#not a cane? a back brace a knee brace anything

[goldfades]

Please more controversially young gf for sid🫶🏽🫶🏽

you ask, i deliver!! i hope u enjoy<3

You always joked about Sidney’s age.

Always chirped him about his back, his knees, the way he sometimes got up in the morning with a groan like he was a man twice his age. You teased him relentlessly, with little jabs like "Want me to grab your cane, Grandpa?" when he stretched too long after practice.

But when you saw him go down on the ice, nothing was funny.

Nothing at all.

You didn’t even register what had happened at first. One second, he was in the play, moving like he always did—fast, sharp, instinctual—and then the next, he was hit hard along the boards, his body crumbling in a way that was all wrong.

Your heart stopped. Literally stopped. Your breath caught somewhere in your throat, and suddenly, the crowd noise, the commentators, the sounds of skates slicing ice—it all faded into a dull, meaningless blur.

Because he wasn’t getting up.

Your hands clenched around the edge of your seat so tightly your knuckles ached. Time felt slow, unbearably so, like you were watching the worst moment of your life play out in slow motion. He was on his knees, then on his side, and there was a trainer already rushing out to him. But he wasn’t moving like he should be.

You felt sick. A tangible, horrible nausea that curled in your stomach and made your whole body feel cold.

Sidney was tough. Tougher than most. He had taken hits before, had gotten back up when no one else could. But this—this wasn’t right.

You barely noticed the people around you. Barely heard the fans murmuring, the worried whispers and sharp intakes of breath, the occasional muttered, "Shit, that looked bad."

All you knew was that your chest felt tight, too tight, like you couldn’t get a full breath in.

And then, finally, finally, he moved.

Slow. Careful. The kind of movement that told you it hurt like hell but he was too stubborn to let anyone see just how bad it was. He pressed his hand to the ice for support, his jaw clenched, his eyes set forward in that focused, determined way you knew so well.

It should have made you feel better. It didn’t.

Because you knew him.

You knew his pain tolerance was stupidly high, that if he wasn’t just popping up and skating back into the play, something was really, really wrong.

You didn’t even think before you moved. The second he was helped off the ice and down the tunnel, you were out of your seat, pushing through the rows, ignoring the way people turned to watch you. You didn’t care. Didn’t care that the cameras might catch you, didn’t care what social media would say, didn’t care about anything except getting to him.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you made your way through the winding hallways of the arena, the path to the medical room too familiar by now. You had done this before, more times than you wanted to admit. But it never got easier.

The second you reached the room, you barely hesitated before pushing the door open.

And there he was.

Sidney sat on the exam table, gear still on, one skate unlaced, his posture stiff like he was bracing for bad news. His head snapped up the moment he saw you, and something in his face softened.

"You’re not supposed to be back here," he said, his voice rough but steady.

"Yeah, well," you exhaled, still trying to calm the pounding in your chest, "try and stop me."

And just like that, whatever resolve you had left crumbled.

You crossed the room in seconds, standing between his knees, your hands finding his face, tilting it up, searching. His helmet had been removed, his hair damp with sweat, his brow creased in quiet frustration.

"You scared the shit out of me," you admitted, your voice quiet, your thumbs tracing lightly over his cheekbones.

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but the pain in his eyes dulled it. "Didn’t mean to."

"You weren’t moving," you whispered. "I thought—I thought—"

Your throat closed up, and Sidney—ever steady, ever calm, even when he was the one hurt—reached for your wrist, grounding you with a squeeze.

"I’m okay," he murmured. "Just sore."

You didn’t believe him, not entirely, but he was looking at you like he needed you to, like he needed you to be steady for him.

So you nodded, exhaling shakily. "I’ll be the judge of that."

He let out a breath of amusement, the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "That right?"

"Damn right," you said, shifting so you could press your forehead against his. "Now let me have my dramatic, emotionally charged moment, please."

Sidney huffed a soft laugh, closing his eyes for a second, letting you linger in the quiet. And when he finally spoke again, his voice was low, just for you.

"I’m glad you’re here."

And just like that, the tightness in your chest eased.

Because yeah, the world could speculate all it wanted. People could talk about the age gap, the controversy, the noise. But right now, in this small, fluorescent-lit medical room, none of it mattered.

Because you loved him.

And he loved you.

And at the end of the day, that was the only thing that ever would.

Sidney was not a good patient.

This was something you learned very quickly.

The second the team doctors gave him strict orders to rest, you knew it was only a matter of time before he started pushing it. Because he was Sidney Crosby—one of the most disciplined, regimented, "tough it out and get back on the ice" people to ever exist. He didn’t do rest. Didn’t do sitting still, didn’t do taking it easy.

Which meant you had to be the one to make him.

Lucky for him, you had absolutely no problem being a pain in his ass.

"Sit. Down."

You stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, staring Sidney down as he very slowly tried to get up from the couch. He was still in sweats, fresh from a shower, his damp hair slightly messy in a way that would’ve been distracting if you weren’t so focused on keeping him immobile.

"I was just—"

"—going to sit your ass back down like the doctors told you," you finished for him. "Good call."

Sid exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "I’m fine."

"You have a bruised rib," you reminded him, walking toward him and shoving him back down with one finger on his chest. "Which means no skating, no lifting, no ‘I swear I’m just stretching’—and definitely no trying to prove how tough and manly you are by walking around like a fully functional human when we both know you are not."

He just looked at you, lips twitching, because he was definitely entertained by the way you were talking to him.

"You enjoy this, don’t you?" he asked, voice tinged with amusement.

You scoffed. "Oh, so much." You pointed at him again. "Now stay there while I get your meds."

Sid obeyed, but you could feel his eyes on you as you moved around the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and pulling his painkillers from the cabinet. You turned back to him, shaking two pills into your palm.

"Take these," you ordered, stepping back toward him.

He raised an eyebrow but took the pills from your hand. "I could do this myself, you know."

"Could you, though?" you mused, tilting your head. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re a very injured man who should probably stop arguing with his extremely generous, very beautiful, highly intelligent, and endlessly patient nurse."

Sid let out a slow, amused breath, shaking his head. "Highly patient, huh?"

You handed him the water, watching as he swallowed the meds, and then took the glass back when he was done. "Unbelievably patient," you confirmed. "Practically saintly."

Sid didn’t reply, just watched you with that look—the one where his lips curled slightly, his eyes softened, and you knew, knew, that if he weren’t injured, he’d be pulling you into his lap just to shut you up.

Instead, he settled for reaching out and grabbing your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Thanks for taking care of me."

You shrugged, sitting on the couch next to him, curling up so your legs tucked under you. "Someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid."

He hummed, shifting slightly to get comfortable. "Don’t I have trainers for that?"

"Yeah, but I’m meaner," you pointed out. "And I have better hair."

Sid chuckled, tilting his head toward you, his expression easy and fond. "Can’t argue with that."

You smirked, leaning your head against his shoulder, being careful not to press against the bruised side of his ribs. "Damn right you can’t."

And despite everything—despite his injury, despite the way you knew he hated being sidelined���Sidney relaxed. Because this? This was what made it all okay.

Even if you were bossy. Even if you were slightly unbearable in full nurse mode.

You were his. And that made every moment—every ridiculous, slightly bitchy, very loving moment—worth it.

[baura-bear]

The day we get mobility aid user Donny-Nova-Band-members is the day I rest easy

[ourceliumnetwork]

oh *now* she wants me to see a doctor about my joints doing things joints don't normally do.

bit late ma.

[thebctman]

Rewatching the show has given me a whole new perspective 3 years later. And one fundamental moment that I have an entirely new perception of is Viktor’s run. I truly believe it is the most important moment of Viktor’s story.

Not only because it underscores Viktor’s need for the hexcore but also because it fundamentally contrast Jayce’s inability to understand Viktor’s desires until the end of season 2.

Viktor is able to walk without support, to run. He is able to not just keep up with, but outrun the boat in the background of the bridge scene. The first moment of Viktor’s childhood we see is him try to keep up with the toy boat he made and set across the river. Viktor fails because of his disability and later him being able to do what his past self could not is an incredibly exhilarating feeling.

Jayce is the epitome of strength. He is a builder, a forger and a worker. He is loud, he is strong and unshaken. He is the personification of a hammer, always striking to leave an impact.

Jayce in his privilege, does not know what it’s like to be able to walk without support, to be able to live without the fear of having a countdown in your lungs due toxic fumes in your home.

And it is with this privilege Jayce does not understand how monumental it is for Viktor to want the hexcore destroyed. It is his one chance of freedom and he wanted it gone. Jayce does not understand this until it was too late.

Viktor was born waiting. He has always been waiting. Waiting for a chance to breathe, to live and to have a legacy. Viktor waits and waits to see if the Hexcore will him and it is that longing that binds his soul to the Hexcore.

Jayce does not understand this longing until Viktor is almost taken from him. He waits for him to return back to him but Viktor can wait no longer. Jayce is always a little too late when it comes to Viktor until the finale.

And it is in the finale where Jayce finally understands that makes it all more personal. That the Glorious Evolution comes from Viktor’s fear and his want.

The verbalization of his love for Viktor was incredible. That his imperfections were what he loved about him. That when he hallucinated Victor over that fire, Viktor had his cane with him. That Viktor can no longer wait, but Jayce can go with him. He can be there and choose him.

I now understand on a personal level what that scene means and what it meant to Viktor to not just be able to walk without support but to run.

I’ve been dealing with a knee injury for over half a year that has me unable to walk properly or even climb a single step without a brace. I don’t think it’s getting any better and I hope one day I have a bridge scene as well. I would do anything to be able to run again without pain, to wake up without pain.

I see myself in the way Viktor shifts all his weight onto his good leg without his cane, in the way he angles himself ever so slightly in the hopes that something will alleviate the pain. In the pure cathartic wonder on his face when he runs for the first time.

To see that all verbalized on Viktor’s face was incredibly bittersweet and I don’t if I could give up the Hexcore if I was able to do that. This moment underscores Viktor’s resilience, his personal strength and his want.

[hexb0nes]

welcome to "how to accurately write about disability" ft. viktor from arcane (by a dude with the same conditions/aids as viktor) !

pt 1. viktor’s mobility aids & assistive technologies

in the pre-timeskip of season 1, viktor solely uses a cane without any visible bracing; the way he holds his cane is indicative of whether he’s using it as support (handle facing forward) or to help walk (handle facing backwards)

in season 1 after the timeskip, his condition progresses and he upgrades to an unique, arcane-specific mobility aid; it’s a mesh of two types of crutches (forearm crutch & under-arm crutch)

therefore it’s more accurate to refer to viktor’s mobility aid after the timeskip in season 1 as a crutch

given the angles & mirroring, the leg impacted is the left leg (just like me fr) and actually features two different braces but due to the animation of it, sometimes it looks like their combined

viktor has a knee brace & an ankle-foot orthosis, which provides assistance to his knee/ankle/foot

the ankle-foot brace is likely made of metal to stabilize them for walking while the knee brace has some flexibility to it to allow the joint to bend while walking

now onto something very unique about viktor’s condition, his back; what he has on his back (in my opinion) is a blend of a spinal fusion (a surgery in which rods & other metal is inserted into the spine to stabilize the vertebrae) and a traditional back brace

i say it’s a blend of a visible spinal fusion & traditional back brace because of circular scars we can on viktor’s upper back, the aid’s design featuring an almost steampunk visual of the spine and its vertebrae; in addition, the other components of the aid match with ordinary back braces (supportive shoulder strap, full coverage of the spine, etc.)

when someone has a spinal fusion, their physical abilities become limited; they cannot lift over a certain weight, bend, twist, or do any movements that can compromise the spinal fusion

as for the back brace and its structure, i’m sure that it’s very uncomfortable to wear (picture being trapped in a metal corset) but viktor likely has to wear it 24/7 (unless for bathing, i presume? because it’s metal, but idk it’s a fantasy setting so anything comes)

pt 2. what to do before you write

for accuracy, determine what version of viktor you’re writing about; is it act 1 season 1 viktor with a cane? it is act 2-3 season 1 viktor with braces & a crutch? etc. this is important because viktor uses different assistive technology/devices depending on the act or season of the show. once you have that determined, you’re ready to write.

beyond viktor's mobility aids and braces, it's key to incorporate his chronic pain. as someone with his condition (spine disorder), chronic pain is a given. it's something that many writers fail to include when writing viktor or other physically disabled characters like him.

pt. 3 suggestions of what to write

cane & crutch

sounds (i.e. rubber tip thumping against the floor while viktor walks, sudden bang or crash sound effect if viktor drops his aid, etc.)

textures (i.e. feeling the refined wood of the cane, the smooth metal of the crutch, the plush foam of the handles)

visuals (i.e. describe the aid's design, the colors, the engravings, etc.)

complications (i.e. viktor not being able to reach the cane or crutch sometimes when it falls to the floor, the pain in his hand and underarm from constant use)

knee brace & ankle-foot orthosis

sounds (i.e. metal rods grinding against other metal components when viktor walks, the sound of metal hitting the ground with the AFO, creaking/whining of metal)

texture (i.e. how cold the metal is, how stiff the rods that hold the braces together are)

visuals (i.e. describe the details and design of the braces, include things like the color of the metal and the engravings)

complications (i.e. broken rods in the braces, metal cutting viktor when they takes them off)

spinal fusion brace

sounds (i.e. grinding metal against skin, the clicking of the brace's rods, etc.)

textures (i.e. the cold metal, the rigid notches of the vertebrae, etc.)

visuals (i.e. mention the circular scars above the brace, describe the brace's design with mentions of its color and structure, etc.)

misc. additions

try including viktor's thoughts and feelings towards his disabilities and aids; it's not all oh fuck i'm in hell 24/7 when it comes to be disabled. there's an unique humor in disability

viktor can poke people with his cane/crutch, trip people, use it as a pointer, etc.

viktor can make silly or dark jokes/jabs about his disabilities (i.e. jayce, i may be a cripple, but i'm no idiot. or this meeting is more agonizing than the time i fell down the stairwell by the lab- you fell down the stairs?!- i lived.)

include viktor's chronic pain, some areas likely impacted by his disabilities are: legs, back, hands, and underarms

an easy way to show this is through the mention of chronic pain relief tools (i.e. tiger's balm, pain medication (muscle relaxants, opioids), kinesiology tape)

remember that viktor is more than a disabled character; he's an inventor, a scientist, a good-hearted person. he's expressive and has lots of empathy for those like him and the people of zaun. his disabilities influence the path he's on and his experiences, but they are not the sole defining component of viktor's identity.

pt. 4 conclusion & final notes

thank you for taking the time to read this through! if you're able to, please share this with your fellow writers. i hope this post can help folks better represent disabled characters in their writing. if you have any specific questions, message me on tumblr! thanks <3

[silentsneezes]

in regards to your essential oils post: i am absolutely interested and i think i can safely say others would be too 👀 if you want to write if you definitely should

i hope this is worth the wait anon! here's 1.7k of j/ayce being helplessly allergic to essential oils

cw for talk about chronic illness/disability and mess! it's mostly just spray, but after the line "There’s a few moments of silence, broken only by Jayce’s desperate gasps" there are some more descriptions of mess

On a good day, there’s little to nothing Viktor can’t manage with a cane and the occasional break to sit down. He’s proven most undercity doctors wrong just by living past 25, and yet both he and Jayce understand the importance of the Hex Core. It’s their biggest breakthrough yet, their closest glimpse of magic aside from Jayce’s rune bracelet. 

Still, it’s not enough. Viktor knows it’s not enough to rely on the half baked mystery of natural runes. So he does what he can. He drinks enough water, he attempts to sleep consistently, he’s even taken up stretching for God’s sake. You may be asking “why now?”, to which he would answer “Jayce.”

Jayce has done everything for him, would do anything for him. So even if Viktor gave up years ago, he refuses to sit back and allow Jayce to watch him bide his time. He’s trying, damnit. 

Today, that effort entails using a new combination of essential oils Jayce purchased— a tasteful mix of eucalyptus, rosemary, and chamomile. Viktor has always denied such simple pain relief techniques, finding it to be more bothersome than it is effective. Except Jayce is nothing if not persuasive and he insists on indulging in buying expensive oils and herbs for his partner– it doesn’t help that Viktor is head over heels in love with him. 

Viktor doesn’t even want to know how much this new batch must’ve cost, but he will admit it seems promising as Jayce begins massaging it over his back. Viktor is laid face down on the cot in the lab, his arms pinned by his sides as Jayce straddles him from behind. Jayce is careful not to put any unwanted weight on Viktor’s hips or bad leg, propping himself up on the edges of the cot cautiously. His legs are bent at the knees, forcing him to rest his ass against Viktor’s– the first few times he’d massaged Viktor, Jayce asked for reassurance that he wasn’t too heavy or causing any pain every few minutes, but by now he’s figured out which position works best. 

Jayce’s hands work over Viktor’s upper shoulders, his thumbs rubbing little circles over the especially tense knots. Viktor emits quiet noises of pleasure as Jayce kneads his fingers into the sore sections of his back, taut and misshapen due to his brace. His spine bends awkwardly at the center, having contorted into an abrasive arch over the years. Still, he looks perfect in Jayce’s eyes. Every notch of his spine, pressing against his skin and accentuating his thin frame. Every mole and freckle gone unnoticed by his previous lovers. Every scar left along his back from the metal brackets of the brace chafing or cutting his porcelain skin. It’s all beautiful. 

Occasionally, Jayce will lean forwards and press a kiss to Viktor’s back, intermixing the massage with a gentle affection. As he does so, Jayce feels a buzzing sensation begin to work its way from the back of his sinuses up to the tip of his nose. He raises a hand, rubbing the bothersome appendage against its backside. Unfortunately, he gets a whiff of the strongly scented oils coating his palms. Fuck. 

Jayce’s breath catches in his throat, a vocal hitch forcing its way out, “hhHH-” Jayce places one hand on the small of Viktor’s back, steading himself so he doesn’t jostle Viktor at all. 

“Are you okay?” Viktor murmurs at the touch, half asleep under Jayce�� it isn’t uncommon for him to fall asleep when Jayce massages his back. Jayce nods wordlessly before remembering Viktor can’t see him, “Yeah, f-hhih-fine…”

Jayce’s hands continue working over Viktor’s shoulders, but his mind remains distracted by that tantalizing itch dancing through his nose. It forces his nostrils to flare every so often, his eyes beginning to water with every hitch that catches in his chest. Viktor can feel every minuscule movement Jayce makes, suddenly feeling wide awake as he registers the little hitches. 

Unfortunately for Jayce, the buzzing worsens, and those “little hitches” are quick to turn into full on gasps, “hhHH-uh… hhheh-hhHHngh… hh’uUHH’ hHHHHRSCHHHEw!” 

Jayce barely turns his head to the side in time, the spray of the expulsion narrowly missing Viktor’s exposed back. His body shudders over Viktor’s, his thighs tightening their hold around his partner ever so slightly. 

“Bless you,” Viktor murmurs, feeling his abdomen fill with a swirling heat. Jayce rubs his nose against his shoulder, wrinkling the appendage and sniffling, desperate to subdue the continuous itch, “Shhsorry- did I get you?”

“No,” Viktor answers simply, humming as Jayce’s big hands begin their work again. Viktor waits, listening with rapt attention to every little shift in Jayce’s breathing, hoping the sneeze wasn’t just a single expulsion. 

A minute later, Jayce stupidly leans down to press a light kiss to the mole on Viktor’s upper left shoulder out of habit. As soon as his nose nears Viktor’s oil-covered back, it twitches. He takes in a desperate, “hhHHH-” before snapping forward with no other warning, “hhHGSSXCHHHew!ugh…” Jayce’s head is forced down as he convulses with the expulsion, his nose briefly pressing against Viktor’s shoulder. 

Viktor shivers as he feels the spray cast upon his bare skin, intermixing with the dampness of the oils. He swallows a moan as Jayce’s nose makes contact with his back, only heightening his arousal. He can feel Jayce’s weight shift, a bit more pressure being applied to his ass as Jayce is forced to change positions. 

Jayce’s eyes widen as he realizes the sheen of spray left on Viktor’s skin, blushing crimson and stuttering to apologize as his breath hitches again, “oh god VhhhViktor I’m s-hhH-so hhuHH- so sorrhhhHRRSXCHHh’uh!” 

Never has Jayce been hit by an allergen so intensely, having thought he had no allergies until this very moment. But the itch ravaging his nose is evidence enough to prove him wrong, causing him to hitch and whine. He can’t even raise his hands to cover or attend to the twitching appendage, knowing they’re both coated with the essential oils. 

“hhHhhngh- ehhhhHh- huh’hhHHEH-“ Jayce builds up to yet another sneeze, his hands now holding Viktor’s waist tightly in an attempt to keep some semblance of control, “hhHZZSXCHHuh’hh!”

The sneeze mists Viktor’s skin again, causing arousal to thrum throughout his body. It doesn’t help that he can feel Jayce’s hips buck against his ass with every expulsion. He muffles a moan into the cot’s surface, his body alight with desire. 

Jayce buries his nose against his own shoulder, berating the appendage as best he can without the use of his hands, “hhhuhh-ngh’uh,” Jayce’s breathless hitches are audible despite his efforts to suppress them. 

‘Foolish’ Viktor thinks upon hearing Jayce’s attempts at suppressing the build up. Viktor of all people knows just how loud Jayce’s hitching can get, having toyed with inducing his partner on many occasions. 

“hhHihH- Vik I’mhhh-I’m ghhehHgoing to sn-hhhHPDTSCHhew!” Jayce once again mists Viktor’s skin, his hands holding onto Viktor’s waist in utter desperation as the sneeze tears through him. Jayce stays bent over, not bothering to straighten up as he feels his breath catch haphazardly again. 

There’s a few moments of silence, broken only by Jayce’s desperate gasps before, “hhHHGGDZSCHh’uhh!” Jayce freezes as he feels a string of mess trail down his upper lip. Before he can move to catch it, it falls onto the nape of Viktor’s neck, causing the pinned man to shudder. Viktor doesn’t bother muffling his moan this time, his imagination running wild at the sensation of the mess against his skin. 

Jayce is quick to clean it up, gently swiping his fingers over the wet splotch and cringing at the sensation of the snot against his skin. He wipes it on his pant leg, murmuring a stuttered, broken apology, “sorry, I thinkhhhI’m hhHHallerghhHiHH– HHRRXSCHHeWw’huh! snNDFF- allergic.” 

At this point, Jayce’s thighs are pressing tightly against Viktor’s hips in order to maintain his balance, his big hands cupping Viktor’s bare waist. With every expulsion, Viktor can feel Jayce’s fingers grip his sides as the sneezes rack his body. 

The fact that Viktor can’t even see Jayce just makes him all the more aroused. Of course he enjoys watching Jayce sneeze, finding his expressions utterly enrapturing, but being pinned face down is equally as exciting; it leaves some of the experience up to imagination, allowing Viktor to picture his partner’s appearance while feeling every movement atop him. 

It doesn’t take long for Jayce to recognize that he’s not going to stop sneezing, unable to do anything but blink away allergic tears as sneeze after sneeze tears through his strong frame. After a little, Viktor shifts, signaling for Jayce to move off of him. Obedient as ever, Jayce attempts to do so, nearly stumbling over as he dismounts his partner. 

Once he finds his footing, Jayce looks at Viktor in utter disarray. His eyes and nose are streaming, a sheen of mess trailing down his upper lip, his nostrils flaring, his eyebrows knit together in a constant pre-sneeze expression. He holds his hands out in front of him helplessly, unable to tend to his nose. 

Wordlessly, Viktor stands and pulls Jayce into a kiss, taking his partner by surprise. Jayce melts into the kiss once his initial shock at the affection dissipates, reminding himself that Viktor finds his disheveled mess of a state hot rather than disgusting. Jayce has one arm draped around Viktor’s waist in support, his other hand tangling itself in his partner’s hair. He finds himself momentarily relieved as his and Viktor’s tongues dance along with each other.

Unfortunately for Jayce, the itch’s temporary dormancy is over. He takes in a desperate, quick inhale, his lips still pressed to Viktor’s, “hhHH-” before shuddering with a wet sneeze, “HHGGSXCHHew!” Jayce blushes crimson as he feels the spray of the sneeze intermix with the kiss, but his embarrassment is forgotten as Viktor moans, deepening their embrace. 

By the time Jayce’s allergies finally die down, it’s safe to say Viktor’s pain has been tended to… though not how the couple had initially intended. 

“You know,” Viktor murmurs lazily as he sits beside Jayce on the cot, “I now see the value of those essential oils you insist on purchasing.” He grins coyly at Jayce, watching his cheeks flush in response to the slight taunt.

[jjtheresidentbaby]

regressuary day 4: new caregiver

» for @regressuary & link to bingo card here

» rg!jayce & cg!viktor | on my ao3 | wrd count: 2k+

» summary: it’s snowing out and viktor finds jayce regressed in the lab, thrusting him into the caregiver position

» tags: classification au, hurt/comfort, jayce’s childhood trauma making an appearance, crying, pet names

Jayce glances back up at the window across the room from him, the shade has been pulled as far down as it goes but he still knows what happening behind it. It’s snowing. Hard.

The weather this morning had predicted some light rain but now Piltover is covered in a thick layer of white and has snowflakes falling down so rapidly Jayce is worried it’ll never stop. It’s been three- no five- hours of the storm and of him not daring to step foot outside the lab.

Viktor had gone home before the snow started, which eased Jayce as it meant he had zero chance of getting caught in it, but it also leaves Jayce alone. Alone and slowly slipping into his headspace. He’s fiddling with a prototype of a hextech device that he can’t even remember the purpose of, he just knows it’s something he’s supposed to be doing. He is not supposed to be regressing at work, or even be here anymore with everyone else having gone home or off to their own rooms in the building to sleep.

The gadget drops from Jayce’s hand with a clash as it collides with the floor and a shiver runs down his back, he’s cold. The device is broken in a bunch of pieces across the floor and he’s shivering and- and he’s crying. A small whimper escapes Jayce’s throat as he moves to the floor, collecting the pieces from the prototype in shaking hands, but quickly abandoning the task when he hears someone walking outside the door.

He recognizes the step pattern but knows it isn’t the security guard, it’s not uniform enough. In a moment of panic and his little side coming out more, Jayce backs himself under the work table and clutches the metal parts in his hands up to his chest. He tries to be quiet. It might be a snowy monster, his childlike brain supplies, only making Jayce feel more alone and helpless. He wants his mom, or Mel, or Viktor, or even Heimerdinger, anyone that would be able to protect him from the monster outside.

“Stupid door.” The person mutters as the large door opens then closes, Jayce instantly registers that it’s Viktor. Rather than feeling relieved like he assumed he would at the thought of not getting eaten by a snow monster, he’s suddenly panicking more. Viktor is going to find him regressed. Oh god.

“…uh Jayce?” Viktor asks hesitantly, slowly approaching the table Jayce is halfway hidden under. Jayce flinches back into himself, trying to curl up smaller but his physical size betrays him and he isn’t able to do much.

The tears he had forgotten were there suddenly reappear and he tucks his face into his knees in an attempt to cover them. So sensitive, he remembers being chastised as a kid by the teachers in school. He doesn’t want Viktor to see him as sensitive or anything like that. He’s supposed to be big and smart and help Viktor with hextech, not a baby. The thoughts only make him feel worse and a small sniffle leaves him, he hears Viktor pause in front of him at the sound.

“Jayce what’s going on?” The cane Viktor uses gets propped up against the table before he somehow gets himself on the ground in front of Jayce. He can hear the sound of Viktor muttering to himself about his leg being stiff, the clink the metal brace makes against the hard floor, the worried sigh he lets out once he’s situated.

“S’cold out.” He mumbles as a reply, not caring that he’s leaving out the vital information that he’s slipped into his little space. He isn’t sure how Viktor will react to him being a little, they’ve never talked about classification before aside from Viktor offhandedly mentioning that he’s a caregiver.

“Yes it is snowing pretty hard, I wasn’t going to come out but I forgot my notes and wasn’t feeling tired enough for sleep anyway.” It’s rare Viktor sleeps more than four hours a night and there’s been plenty of times he’s come in afterhours to the lab or even just simply not gone home but Jayce almost always leaves on time. He doesn’t have the best sleep schedule, but he enjoys being home with his mother and helping cook or whatever tasks she needs done around the house. And he’s never here this late.

“I don’t like snow.” Hesitantly Jayce shifts to let Viktor see him above his knees. There’s a furrow of worry in Viktor’s brow when he notices the tears and red rimmed eyes Jayce has.

“I remember you telling me what happened when you were a child.” Jayce’s eyes water at the words, brain instantly replaying the memory of almost losing his mother so young. Viktor looks regretful of his words as soon as he sees Jayce’s reaction.

“But you’re safe now Jayce, everyone’s safe.” A hand is gently placed on Jayce’s shoulder, Viktor scooting forward to be closer but still looking unsure of his actions.

“I don’ wanna go out in the snow.” There’s a naive edge to his tone he knows Viktor hears.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Now Jayce… are you feeling um.. small?” Again, Jayce’s bottom lip wobbles and tears drip down his cheeks as he nods guiltily. He hates that Viktor is seeing him like this.

“That’s okay, no reason to cry. You are allowed to regress, especially when you’re emotional.” It was always preached in school that being emotional was a sure-fire way for little’s to drop and that it was best to encourage this behavior as the side effects could be severe if a little didn’t go small enough- Jayce has just never been convinced these rules apply to himself.

“Bu’ at work.” He clumsily wipes his eyes and untangles his legs a little to show the broken prototype in his other hand.

“M’sorry Vik.” He blubbers when Viktor simply stares at the pieces with an unreadable expression, but Viktor quickly shushes him when he catches onto Jayce’s distraught state.

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean to, yes?” A nod and Viktor offers a small smile.

“Then no harm done. We can fix it up tomorrow, when you’re ready to.” When he’s big again- Jayce hates his brain for feeling so guilty about dragging Viktor into this mess.

“Can’t go home, too cold.” If Viktor came here for notes then he probably came here to work on something but Jayce knows if he even tried to walk out that door he’d send himself into a full panic attack. He can’t leave, as much as he dislikes Viktor seeing him like this.

“I wasn’t saying you had to. Would you like to go somewhere more comfortable?” There’s nothing in the lab that would be considered comfortable but there is the community room on the west wing that has couches and a coffee machine that would probably be better for both of them. It’d at least be warmer. But-

“Other people?” Other sounds more like ‘Ofer’ but Jayce thinks Viktor understands. He doesn’t need the whole council to see him in this state.

“Nobody else is awake, it’s alright darling.” The assurance is oh so soft and Jayce instantly feels calmer hearing it. This may be the first time he’s had Viktor look after him but he trusts him like he would any other day, now that the initial panic has passed that is.

-

Somehow they stumble down the to the east wing and all but collapse onto one of the large couches that is much comfier than the hard ground in the lab. Viktor leans behind them to pull the shades down when he catches Jayce staring outside- the storm isn’t any better, if anything it’s worse and Jayce is nearly ready to go hide under the lab table again. He hates winter.

Why does it have to be winter? Why can’t it be summer forever?

Unintentionally, Jayce curls up against Viktor’s side and clutches a hand to the loose sweater he has on. It’s not his normal vest and dress shirt, instead a warm coffee colored knit sweater that Jayce has only seen a handful of time but has always been entranced in anytime Viktor’s worn it. It looks incredibly soft and feels even better now that he’s got his fingers tangled in it.

“Jayce? Are you alright?” A lanky arm wraps around Jayce’s back to pull him in closer to Viktor’s side, encouraging him to cuddle in for warmth.

It’s not that Jayce runs cold- quite the opposite- but snow storms somehow leave him shivering and shaking no matter what’s going on or where he is. There was even a point where he couldn’t watch videos of the winter weather or he’d start to shiver and slip into his small space.

“Wish it was summer.” He barely even likes fall on bad days and on good days he spends his time day dreaming about summer to the point that he can almost forgets it’s even cold outside. It doesn’t always work.

He tries it now, closing his eyes, laying his head on Viktor’s chest, trying to imagine the summer breeze and birds chirping, but he gets nothing. Just snow swooshing through the air and the picture of his hands so cold they turn red and have to be held in warm water before frostbite sets in. Viktor pets a hand at his back that reminds him he’s safely inside and nobody is freezing, but Jayce is still trembling like he’s about to turn to ice.

“I’m so sorry, little one. Do you have a caregiver I could contact?” No. He doesn’t even let his mother watch him, he always avoids the slightest mention of his classification with her, forever scared she’ll look down on him for it. Which is ridiculous with how proud she is of him and how much gushing she does about him, it’s still there though and Jayce hasn’t been able to convince himself to stop thinking that way.

“Jus’ myself.” It’s mostly fine for Jayce to look after himself, he has a system: lock himself in his bedroom and take out the couple of toys he allows himself and spend a few of hours in there, that’s it. That’s all he’s ever given himself.

“It’s very encouraged for littles to have a caregiver.” He knows that but it’s never mattered too much to him. But- it is nice to have Viktor here. He’d probably still be shaking under that table if Viktor hadn’t showed up.

“No one to look after me.” Jayce rubs his cheek against Viktor’s shirt and can hear the thump of his heartbeat from this angle, it’s calming and he hooks an arm around Viktor’s middle to try and be even closer to him.

“What about your mother? Or possibly Mel?” It’s a soft question, Jayce still scrunches his nose and shakes his head against Viktor in disapproval.

“Don’t wanna bother them.” Or be that vulnerable around them. He can be open about a lot of things but opening up about his little side is something Jayce struggles with more than he’d say the average little in Piltover.

“I don’t think you would bother them. They love you and are both caregivers, I’m sure they’d have no problem watching over you when you needed them to.” That was another conversation he briefly remembers having with Viktor, that both his parents were caregivers, he assumed that would be enough to convince him that Jayce was a caregiver too without him having to explicitly lie- that’s out the window now.

“Can’t you watch over me?” It slips out of Jayce’s mouth before he can even try and think it through. Not that he thinks he’d have much luck, he’s starting to get sleepy and his headspace is making thinking hard.

“Uh- Jayce I- I’m sure there’s a better option-.” Viktor stumbles over his words in shock and Jayce merely huffs.

“Wan’ you.” There’s a response but Jayce is passed out asleep before he can fully catch it. He’ll have to ask Viktor about it in the morning.

[wrathofrats]

For the prompts, “Would you mind if I kissed you?” And maybe Zephrit? Or really any Ifrit pairing you pick 💙

Have 800 of sappy stupid wound cleaning

Ifrit shouldn’t feel bad, but he does anyways.

He wasn’t watching, didn’t have his arm on Zephyr like he usually does, let them go in front of him. A bunch of meaningless gestures to a ghoul who demanded to be mostly independent but before ifrit could turn back around zephyr was on the ground in front of him.

Ifrit kneels next to them, a concerned look on his face as he gives zephyr a once over for any more than obvious injuries.

“Are you ok moth?” He asks, inspecting them.

Zephyr rolls their eyes, moving to push themself off of the concrete to grab their cane again.

“I’m fine ifs, give me a second to get up”

Ifrit could see the clear lip in the sidewalk. Easy to trip over if you’re not paying attention. He tried to resist the urge to simply pick zephyr up and either place them back on their feet or carry them back to their room, but ifrit knew they rather just do it themself.

Zephyr winces once back on their feet, visibly favoring one leg over the other.

“Zeph? Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I just need to walk it off” zephyr says, taking a step and sucking in a deep breath.

“Can I at least look at it? There’s a bench over there, if anything you should sit properly for a couple minutes”

Zephyr nods, hobbling over to the worn bench that sits in the middle of a couple trees and bushes. Even if the ministry didn’t have the budget to update the worn down metal, at least the earth ghouls had a passion for design and kept the place looking pretty.

Ifrit put a steady hand on their back to help them lean into the bench, moving to kneel in front of them. They tenderly rolled up their pant leg, trying not to graze the rough fabric over their skin just in case he was cut up from the concrete.

There was already a small dark patch on the fabric of their knee, a small amount of blood already starting to dry around the wound once ifrit got zephyrs leg exposed.

“Wisp, this looks bad, you really shouldn’t be walking around on this”

Zephyrs knee was skinned. Ifrit was being a tad dramatic but there was some truth in what he was saying, for zephyr of all ghouls, trying to get around on an injury would only make their life much worse.

“Then how will I get back”

“I’ll carry you, you know that”

They did. They assumed that would be the answer even if it made them feel bad everytime for being a burden for ifrit to deal with, but he always seemed happy, taking joy in the act of care so they didn’t protest.

Ifrit tucked his arm under their legs. Lifting them up bridal style. Zephyr held onto their cane and put their head on his shoulder as ifrit carried them like they weighed practically nothing. Even if zephyr usually didn’t like it, ifrit still cherished the moment to be so close, for zephyr to let him take care of them.

Once they reached their door Zeph grabbed the knob to open it, instinctively knowing what to do considering this happens more often than they’d care to admit. It took one time of struggling early after they were summoned for zephyr to realize that it was best if they helped instead of ifrit nearly dropping them.

Ifrit delicately sat them on the side of their bathtub, making sure they were steady before rummaging through their cabinet for the first aid supplies. Sadly, with a clumsy fire ghoul and an ill air ghoul these situations happened decently often, and ifrit was trained in what to do.

“You should take your pants off zeph” ifrit threw out casually

“Any reason for that wildfire? Trying to patch me up or make me easy access?” Zeph giggled, already pushing down their pants. Their boxers were cute, decorated with white clouds like a typical air ghoul. Ifrit can’t help but love them even more with nerdy little details like that.

“Hush and brace yourself, I gotta wipe it off”

Ifrit tried to lightly graze over the wound with a washcloth while zephyr hissed and grabbed the side of the tub. It was just water but his skin was still tender and sore.

“It’s ok, you’re doing great wisp” ifrit whispered, grabbing the gauze and a bandage. He put a light layer of an antiseptic on it before covering his knee, punctuating the procedure with a small kiss to the side of his leg.

“All better?”

“Thank you doctor ifrit” zephyr laughed offering their hand for ifrit to help them stand up. They looked up at him, admiration in their eyes wondering how they got lucky evening to have him.

“Would you mind if I kissed you wildfire?”

“I never mind if you kiss me darling” ifrit leaned down, placing his hand on the side of zephyrs face while they smiled into it.

[lxvi-gloria]

Drabble Prompt: Post-canon Levi, struggling with chronic pain and mourning his dead loved ones, being visited by his still alive loved ones

Anon, you knew how to talk pretty to me <3

hihi requests are still open btw

I feel like I gotta put a disclaimer or something lmao. So, the length of my drabble requests is usually something between 100-400 words. This request is just an incredibly unexpected exception. it just happened to fit into this idea I already had been thinking of, which was how the remaining 104th would ask Levi to be part of important events in their lives because well, they like the dude lmao, so expect that sort of one-shot soon. Additionally, since I kept reminding myself that this was supposed to be a drabble, I might have glossed over the chronic pain and mourning bits so I'm sorry about that ;;

that being said, 2.4k words of Levi and Gabi be upon ye <3

Now on Ao3!

The angry hissing of the kettle makes him flinch. It brings a loud ringing to his right ear. Instinctively, he places his right hand over it, and gives his ear a couple of gentle taps; it's more of a grounding gesture, a distraction from the buzzing. He usually keeps watch over the kettle, so that he can lower the heat just right before it gets a chance to scream at him. 

He realises then that he must have spaced out while waiting. It’s alright, he thinks. It’s been like that a lot, recently. He’s been like that. Lost in thought-- lost in time, if he allowed himself to be precise. The last days, weeks even, as the temperatures started to drop, blended into each other. There’s a little calendar on his bedside table, it had been a birthday gift from Armin – or had that been Mikasa’s? He isn’t sure, he had received an absurd number of presents from the kids last year, it had been hard to keep track of who gave him what and now the fact escaped him. Turning the pages of the little calendar, with its delicate botanical illustrations on each day, quickly became part of his morning routine, and so he was sure that time was passing at all. The stillness of the routine, he guesses, made him like this.

His vision blurs momentarily while he scoops the tea leaves into the teapot. He squints, trying to will his good eye to focus, but all he gets in return is a throb in his right eye. After putting the tea canister away, he presses the inner sides of his wrists to both eyes, placing just enough pressure to relieve the discomfort. When he opens his eyes again, he is pleased to find he can read the small print on the canister an arm’s length away. 

There’s a loud slam coming from the front of the house, followed by footsteps coming further into the house.

He quickly recognizes the heavy stomping as Gabi’s gait. She’s always been so loud.

Gabi crosses the arch into the small kitchen and dining area. 

“Don’t slam my doors,” he says as a greeting, slowly turning his head to his left side, trying to catch a glimpse of her in his periphery.

“Aye, aye,” the kid waves her hand, shoots him a teasing grin, “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Levi hums in response but doesn’t say anything else. He busies himself with placing everything they need for their morning tea and coffee on a metal tray on the counter, which Gabi takes from him as soon as it’s ready and sets it on the table.

He grabs his cane from where he had hooked it on one of the kitchen drawers. He has been leaning against the counter, his right leg supporting most of his weight all this time. He braces himself for the sharp pain that will surely surge from his bad knee, through his left hip and up his spine. Cold mornings like this one and being still in one place for long will do that to him. It’s not so bad. It could be worse.

It takes 4 steps to get from the stove to his chair, which Gabi has already pulled out for him. It sits at an angle that allows him to easily slide down on it and rest his right elbow on top of the table, leaning back and against his good side.

“I have something that will cheer you up,” she holds a couple of envelopes in her hand and waves them at him, “You’ve got mail!”

He nods at her in acknowledgement but does not take his attention away from preparing his first batch of tea of the day. There’s a ritual to it, it almost feels like, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. Not when the ringing in his ear is still there, the building pressure in the upper back part of his eyeballs, and the cold air seeping into his bones through his thick jumper. Oh, how he needs a good cup of tea right now.

While Levi waits for it to steep, he grabs the papers that she had shoved in his face, squints his eyes at the first envelope and finds that he is unable to make out much of the handwriting. He brings it closer to his face, squints harder, steals a quick glance across the table and hopes Gabi isn’t paying him any mind, too preoccupied with choosing from the bag of pastries she brought with her. It is with an impassive expression that he hands the stack of envelopes back. 

“Read it for me.” A beat and then he adds, a little reluctant: “Please.”

He knows Gabi prefers coffee in the mornings, and black tea in the evenings, so he makes sure to have a fresh brew of the former whenever he knows she’s coming over; so, with shaky hands, Levi gets to prepare her cup of coffee. While he enjoys the aroma of it, he remains faithful to tea; at first, he thought he didn’t like it because he had butchered his first attempts at brewing it. But even after Onyankopon had taught him how to do it properly and he had enjoyed his cup, it didn’t bring the same comfort as tea. It just never hit the spot.

She shoots him a mischievous grin, “Oh, you sure? What if I read something personal, hm?” 

Levi just shakes his head, scoffing at the idea of Gabi finding his junk mail fascinating.

“Is this how I find out you have a secret lover you’re exchanging raunchy love letters with?” Gabi teases, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He lets out a tired sigh and rolls his eyes, “just wanna be done with it, ” he stirs the milk into Gabi’s coffee, which now has turned into a cup of milk with coffee. “We have a lot to prepare for tonight.”

She clicks her tongue at him, but still rips the first envelope open, “Mr. Levi, your reading won’t improve if you keep doing that,” she jokingly scolds him.

Although Levi mentally recognises handing her and Falco stuff he couldn’t be bothered reading before, that’s not the case this time. He’ll let her think that for now, though, because he doesn’t want to mention the pressure building in the back of his bad eye, it’s not important and she, a kid, doesn’t need to know his newly found ailment of the week. He can see just fine around him right now. He can see Gabi’s big eyes and playful smile at the other side of the table, and that’s good enough; smaller details, he doesn’t feel he can do them, not without making himself go dizzy with a migraine.

Levi slides the cup of coffee to her and is pleased with himself when she approves of the colour of her drink.

“It’s from Armin,” she announces as she scans the letter. 

From this angle, the soft morning light illuminating her face and thanks to his faulty vision, Gabi’s image stirs his memory. His heart faintly constricts as he is reminded of the many times Hange read their research reports to him during breakfast in the mess hall before presenting them to Erwin. Levi always wondered how they could read so fast, sometimes he even doubted they were actually reading at all, their words barely being able to catch up with her eyes; he never asked about it, maybe reading came easy to them as numbers did to him.

A high-pitched squeal from Gabi startles him, bringing him back to the here and now.

“Oh… ohh, Mr. Levi,” she starts, her smile widening by the second “This is good news!”

Gabi makes a show of clearing her throat and then starts reading “Dear Captain, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health.” 

Levi can’t help but let a sardonic huff at the irony of the greetings but doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. He has written only a handful of personal letters throughout his life, and by now he knows it’s just something you’re supposed to say because jumping straight to the point isn’t acceptable, or so that’s what he had been told. 

Gabi continues reading Armin’s words to him. For the most part, it’s a standard letter coming from him: he asks Levi how he’s dealing with the changing of the seasons, how Gabi and Falco are faring, if business at the tea shop has been good, if there’s anything Levi needs that he can’t get in town so that Armin or the others can get it for him. He tells him a little about the country he’s writing from, he even includes a photograph. Then, after the expected pleasantries, Gabi can barely hold her excitement and starts reading faster, trying so hard not to trip over her words.

“If I’m being sincere, we would prefer to ask you in person,” Gabi stops for a second to look up at him from the paper, gauging for a reaction and finding nothing, she continues. 

Armin apologises for not being able to visit him before the holidays, Annie included, and so it is implied that he won’t be attending tonight’s reunion. 

Sometime during the last five years, the Alliance brats had decided to make showing up at Levi’s doorstep together once a year a sort of custom; the first time it happened was during an early winter, a blizzard had stopped them from leaving Levi’s until the next morning. It had been a really nice evening despite the awful weather, Levi remembers, after everyone pitched in one way or another, they all shared a simple but hearty meal together. It was Connie who jokingly said they should do it every year. The following year, Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco joined them. 

This year would be their fourth, and the first someone wouldn’t make it. That fact sits heavily in Levi’s chest, stealing the spotlight from his throbbing eye.

“...Annie and I have decided to get married. The both of us would like you to officiate our ceremony!” unable to contain her excitement, she tears her eyes away from the paper and looks at Levi. “Huh?! This is good news! What’s with the constipated face?!”

That doesn’t sound right. It figures that Annie and Armin would be the first to marry; in a way, he is happy for them, they clearly care for each other. No, that part is easy to understand. Their union is logical to anyone who knows the couple. What Levi can’t figure out is why they are asking him such a thing.

He clears his throat, assumes it’s been 3 minutes and his tea is ready to be poured and so he distracts himself with that.

When he doesn’t answer Gabi, she picks up where she left off. 

He isn’t… well, he isn’t that close to either of them. He’s sure Annie must have other relatives that could step in his stead. Maybe a brother, a cousin. Even Jean or Reiner would be better options than Levi. He isn’t good with words or people like they are, he couldn’t possibly give them a speech about something foreign to him as it is that kind of love, that’s what people expect, right? His title of Captain is obsolete in this new world, so it can’t be that either. Hell, he has never been to a fucking wedding. 

Just… why him?

As expected, Armin doesn’t really go into the details of their choice but does let Levi know they do not expect a fast answer and that they do not want him to feel pressured to accept it, despite how much it would mean to them if he did. Armin asks if there’s anything in particular that he would like for his birthday, as it is a month away, and closes the letter by saying he looks forward to seeing him and everyone then.

When the letter is closed and put back into its envelope, silence falls around them. For a moment the only sound that can be heard is the clinking of tableware as Levi places the teacup back on its saucer.

It bothers him, that he knows he will be letting Armin down by refusing something that any other well-adapted person would consider an honour. But the thought of embarrassing him and himself, because he gave an awkward, most likely insensitive, speech, mortifies him. No, he can’t put them and their guests through that. He will find a way to make it up to the couple, maybe he can… he doesn’t know yet, but he will come up with something.

As he finishes his first cup, Levi realises that at some point while he was lost in thought, the ringing in his ear has subsided and now it’s back to that muffled, cotton-in-ear sensation he’s used to and he doesn’t feel his eyeball pulsating anymore. Glancing at Gabi, he notices she is trying really hard not to say something, her brow furrowed as she takes a sip of her own drink, followed by a big bite of her pastry. Flakes stick to the corner of her mouth and for once it doesn’t disgust him. Instead, it makes his lips twitch as if going into a smile.

“I can help you... if you want,” she says eventually, sounding uncharacteristically careful and small of her.

Levi quirks an eyebrow “Help? with what?” 

She shrugs, “How to… tell them you don’t want to,” she avoids looking at him for the first time, finding the flakes on her plate more interesting. She shrugs again and tilts her head to the side, a thin line of a smile appearing on her face. “...or prepare for the ceremony.”

Not unlike many times before, Gabi’s words render him speechless, if only for a moment. He spares his tea a glance and he thinks: it’s bold of her to be so upfront about offering her help to him, and had it been any other morning, one where he couldn’t think past the constant ache in his body, he would’ve chewed her head off for simply trying to help him because he himself doesn’t know how to accept that kindness.

This kid is trying her best and he can’t help but feel somewhat proud of that.

“You have shit on your face. Here,” he points to where the flakes would sit on his own face and picks his refilled teacup back up.

Gabi quickly wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting most of the flakes off. Levi gives her a thumbs-up with his free hand.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally concedes and tries to ignore the little happy dance she does in her seat.

This time, when the amber liquid touches his lips, it’s remarkably sweeter than before.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! I just found your blog and I have a lot to ask. (So. Sorry about the upcoming wall of text)

I have a few questions for writing a character with disabilities

I am attempting to write a character in his teens (around 16-17 years old) with joint problems (most likely osteoarthritis, although I haven’t fully decided yet.) I have done some research on my own, but I am physically abled and therefore cannot fully get into the headspace of this character. Are there any small details or common experiences that might be useful for me to add when writing this character so I portray their disability better? (So their experience with disability feels more realistic and less like the checklist of common symptoms from various medical websites? )

As well, the story leans more towards the genre of action and as thus, this character would have been very athletic before developing this disability, and would probably still be after. Do you have any tips for writing an physically active character with (joint problem based) disabilities?

And finally: are there any stereotypes, misunderstandings or other common issues that occur in writing disabilities I should know about (so I can avoid accidentally using them) I do not want to unintentionally promote misconceptions or anything harmful in my work, but I also am aware that I am physically abled and therefore will have unconscious biases + will not be as good at noticing issues in how I write disabled characters as I would like to be. So. Essentially, what common problems with writing disabilities should I know to avoid?

(Additional information: this character would have had this disability for a few years before the story began, it isn’t new; he would be a part time cane user and have knee braces.)

- overexcited anon

Hello, lovely anon! So, a couple of things that I think are important with something like arthritis, whether osteoarthritis or inflammatory arthritis, is that arthritis is a dynamic disability. Some days it may be more severe and disabling than others. It is always around - your character will have a baseline level of pain, but your character will also likely have "flare ups" as well where the pain and symptoms such as swelling or stiffness are more severe. Arthritis also changes how the joint looks so that's something to keep in mind. People can have arthritis in certain joints or in multiple joints, or an inflammatory arthritis that affects significantly more areas.

I will also say that osteoarthritis is rare in someone younger unless it is connected to another disorder, such as a joint misalignment or a connective tissue disorder. I personally have Osteoarthritis at 25 due to a connective tissue disorder in my hands and knees. I would think about what joints are affected primarily and how the person may accommodate that - if it's their hands, that affects a lot of fine motor skills. If it's their back, how do they deal with sitting for long periods? If it's their hip or hips, how do they accommodate themself? You mentioned knee braces, so I assume it mainly affects his knees, so that would affect stairs and walking especially.

As for being physically active, it's mainly remembering that sometimes being active has a cost - light physical activity is recommended for arthritis but more severe activity could cause a flare up in the days after. We have a #combat and disability tag that may help to look through, as well!

The main stereotype for arthritis is that it mainly affects the elderly or is not something that young people get. There are so many types of arthritis as well - osteoarthritis, rheumatoid arthritis, psoriatic arthritis, etc. There's also a stigma or belief that arthritis is not disabling - it absolutely is and can be. It's a disorder that has levels of severity as well, with some minorly affected and some majorly affected. It's important to decide where on this spectrum your character is.

I hope this helps and happy writing!

-Mod Bert

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

"Halloween Theme Park" Pt. 3 Rogues Party

Sorry, I know it's late but better late then never, lads! We're going to do a series of asks based on the same prompt of going to a theme park that does horror mazes in halloween (see: HHN at Universal Studio, Knotts Scary Farm, Fright Fest at Six Flags, etc). LAST ONE. then back to normal asks I swear.

TW: Horror mazes, theme parks

Riddler

You didn't have to convince him much. The moment you said anything about animatronics and the level of theater involved, he was into it. Will get a disability pass for his knee (and other injuries he's gotten fighting batman over the years). Will play it up that he has a brace for his knee AND a cane, too. Why yes, the two of you shouldn't have to wait in the hour to hours-long-throng of people who might get too close and breathe on him.

Is he petty enough to look at the prices of things and hack into the park system so you get a massive discount? Pffft. Yes, yes he is. It's one of those things no one is going to see unless they're looking. And by the time they look, he'll be long gone out of the system without a trace. If they didn't want things like this to happen, they really should up their security. Needless to say, whatever you want sweetheart, it's on his tab.

He does jump when the scare actors get him and it's all in good fun. Will get his feathers ruffled if someone gets him good or in a way he considers a "Cheat." Won't cause a fuss, however, because this is your thing and shockingly he doesn't want to make any of this about himself. The ones he won't be as gracious to are guests of the park making fools of themselves or being obnoxious. At best, he'll trip them with his cane. At worst, he'll sneak photos of their faces for later Riddler trials.

Favorite themes are sci-fi which is such a shock no one could have ever guessed. If it has ARG, interactive or "secret" elements, he's going to be the one to find all of it. He found a button to press and has a child's sized bead bracelet now and he's very proud of it. If he sees larger animatronics or SFX, he will try to pause to get a look at the mechanics. Something fascinating for him to see the gears so to speak. Will even pay extra for an entire behind the scenes tour.

Penguin

You do have to convince him to go, but it's not a hard convince. Mostly, it's just not his fare. He's seen plenty of awful things in Gotham that border on real-life horror. Plus, there's a lot of disfigurement used as the "fear" element in these kinds of things that leaves a poor taste in his mouth. However, if you ask and make it clear you really want to do this with him, he will.

Does not look at prices. Whether it's the ticket or food or souvenirs... He's got the funds. If there's a possibility for VIP tickets with something like hotel or a spooky dinner included, you don't even have to ask, that's what he's getting. You deserve it. If there's food the place is known for that's good, he's getting it.

There's a fair chance some drunk at the park will make a comment on his stature or looks. It's dark, not everyone can tell who he is in these settings. It can almost be forgiven. Almost. At best, he'll pull them close by the collars and remind them just who he is and what he can do to them. At worst, he's going to remember their face for later, colder revenge. Head under the ice at the lounge, for example.

His favorite mazes would be ones with historical themes, gangsters, that kind of thing. It's familiar. Like looking at a twisted fun-house mirror of his own life and interests. Might even tip his metaphorical hat to a scare actor that banters with him in that kind of outfit.

Mad Hatter

You need to convince him. Several of his crimes border on horrific and genuine terror, but he doesn't seek out horror himself. If anything, he sees things of that nature and sort of... doesn't. He sees Wonderland instead. So going out of his way to be in a horror maze is a bit- you mention costuming and he perks up. Costuming?

Oh. The outfittings! The dedication to details in a scare actors look! He's quite fond of getting closer to the actors in a respectful manner and complimenting their aesthetics in hopes they'll pause and give him a better glance. If he has a sketch pad with him, he's already scribbling and drawing haphazardly. Not of the actors per say, but the ideas they give him. Inspirations... How he can twist it to his perfect world.

Low-key is asking you to take photos of souvenirs you like because he very well might be able to just... make it without it costing 50 dollars. He's absolutely anti-paying this kind of money. It's practically highway robbery! ...However he will pay a little extra for something sweet the two of you will share. Funnel cake, that kind of thing.

So much nervous laughter when he's in the mazes. Lots of "oh! hehehe yes you got me! AHAHAH oh very good!" This is so different then when Jonathan scares him! This is... Not nearly as fun. Still somewhat enjoyable just different. Good thing it's with you!

Scarecrow

He got his own post :)

Music Meister

The biggest wuss on this list. Phantom of the Opera and Frankenstein are about his levels of horror and even then, it's mostly the musical/stage-play versions. If you get him to go on the basis of set-building and the fact that each maze is like a contained live play, he'll find it much more interesting. That's the ONLY reason you convince him to go.

Listen. Clarence is a great guy. He would defend you and protect you through fire if need be. That said, in horror mazes, he does threaten to sprain your arm with the way he twists it close to him when an actor jumps. You aren't a body shield or anything, but you'll notice he shirks behind you on a particularly good scare.

Doesn't really plan on buying anything because the tickets were already kind of expensive (says the man who would pay insane prices for a theater seat)- But if there's something in particular that you like, he either buy it orrrrr do a quick song and dance routine for it at the cash register (it's fine). It's not dissimilar to what he'll do to a rude guest. Except the rude guests will be convinced to walk behind a roller coaster fence :)

If he can get over his fears long enough, you'll catch him ogling the props and set pieces. Standing in one spot a little too long to look at something. What does this contribute to the visual storytelling?

Victor Zsasz

If you mentioned it as something you like to do, he's already bought tickets for it. Maybe even earlier than someone should have been able to. You aren't really sure how he did that and maybe it's better you don't ask. He's just pleased that you're pleased. He's flirting with the monsters/slashers and/or asking which ones you'd let pin you and- quietly! Only to you.

He acts rather nonchalant about prices of things. Doesn't seem to pay much mind to them either way. And yet those dark eyes seem to linger on you as you look at things. If you express interest in something, he'll offer to get it for you. That's what boyfriends do, right? Whether it's a new shirt or some obscenely cute plush with fake blood.

If he could fuck you in the mazes without any consequences, he would. Seeing the fake blood and gore gets him going. The more the better! That's his favorite type of maze. This is all giving him some roleplay ideas... At one point he's definitely going to make out with you either just after a maze or sometime during the night when he can sneak you to a dark corner.

Rude guests? Who would be rude to a man physically covered in tally marks from head-to-toe? Maybe if they were stupid, sure. He'd give them a moment to apologize while staring. It's your night, so he'll try to behave. If they're rude to you, however... He leans in close to their ear, whispering. You can't make it all out but he's smiling in that way of his- The guest leaves in a rush. You're not sure if Victor will do whatever he just threatened... but considering it's you there's a fair chance that's a yes.

Killer Croc

He's uncomfortable with the idea, at first. What if someone confuses him for a scare actor because of how he looks? You find that it's something he's always been curious about but didn't go for that reason. It does happen, but not as often as he feared. Occasionally he does startle an actual scare actor and he feels bad.

Funny enough, he's probably not the one handling a rude guest in this scenario. Someone DOES start to harass him based on his looks (entitlement plus liquor) and he's doing his best not to bash on the guy. He doesn't want to fuck this up for you because of his temper- And then you see another guest jumping in. Are you harassing his man because of how he looks? Are you some ableist prick making fun of him because we're at a horror event? Oh it becomes a thing. What many people don't realize is what a draw these events can be for people who are differently abled whether it's physical or neurodivergency- Someone would be on the rude guest before either of you had to really step in.

He will be disappointed in 90% of the theme park food because he knows he could make this better. You both know this. He'd rather make food before or after and snack on things. Souvenirs? All they do is collect dust like an old ladies knick-knacks huh? He guesses if you want it- Holy shit how much do they want for it? Some of these people need to be in Arkham for these prices, he swears. But he'll get it for you if you don't get it yourself.

If there's a voodoo/hoodoo based maze, he's steering clear from it. He's heard enough offensive stereotypes about that sort of thing for a life time. It's just annoying at this point. He actually doesn't mind circus or freak show themes because of his moonlighting back in the day. Yeah, maybe they should kill all the gawkers, actually.

Harley Quinn

You don't have to convince her at all. You mention date night at a horror theme park and she jokes about if Crane is in charge of it. Apparently he did a haunted house last year that sent people running out. But she supposes a whole park dedicated to it would probably be okay ;P . Of course she wants to go, it's going to be fun and thrilling! And if the scaring doesn't get her heart going, she'll run to a roller coaster!

Lowkey loves being chased. She will instigate a scare actor by running and squealing if someone actually gets her. Is she truly scared? Fuck no. Then, Harley gets downright goofy if there's a clown maze or scare zone. Big "you see your cousins at the store" kind of energy. So much banter, especially since she's somewhat plainclothes and they might actually not recognize her.

Doesn't seem to pay much attention to pricing of food or merchandise unless it's particularly egregious. Then she's hands on hips "Whaddya mean you want that much? Highway robbery, that's what that is!" Do you want her to steal it? She can steal it and they probably wouldn't notice (they would).

She'll fight somebody if they're rude to you or employees. Tiny but mighty that's absolutely her. You wanna say somethin'? If you have any strength, there's a chance you can pick her up before she actually hurts someone. Because she WILL hurt them, especially if they physically harmed an actor.

Poison Ivy

This was the kind of thing she never got invited to do when she wasn't "pretty." Group night out or dates... and she never saw the point of going by herself. So it's on when you bring it up for a date night. When she goes she's in full spooky fashion. The woman could be doing a modeling session for insta if she wanted. She's giving beautiful decay and rot, babes.

In the spirit of behaving and not making a scene, any rude guests will find themselves trapped in place by plants as you and Pamela walk away at a moderate pace. A wave of her hand and suddenly they're tangled in the grass of all things. Wow. That sucks. Guess it's a good thing for them she can't feed them to her carnivore plants.

Will absolutely use her powers of charm and plant-based pheromones to get discounts on stuff in the park. Oh, was there some shirt you wanted or a stuffed animal and it's too expensive? She's got this. Either that or she pulls out one of those premium credit cards that she absolutely did not con off of someone.

For the most part she barely regards the scare actors with a glance unless they specifically target her. If a scare actor manages to surprise her particularly well, she'll give a few well-placed curses and plants around her grow in a spurt. She'll give a dry laugh and walk it off, mostly based on your reaction. She's a good sport about it. For themes- Literally any kind of theme set in nature or about nature taking over? That's her bag, no notes, everyone deserves it. Creepy crawlies count, too! Club settings with electronic noise and grinding machinery are less to her taste.

Two-Face

Both of them are very tentative to going. Harvey doesn't want to be confused for a scare actor... and Harv has a similar feeling but in the sense of not wanting to be gawked at. They'll go if you REALLY want, but it's completely for you. Might even try to be low-key and in disguise.

Harv complains about every single price. With what you paid for to get in here, the drinks should be free, at least. Harvey has no problem shelling out just because this whole thing is focused on you, anyways. Harv may eventually join in on the prospect of spoiling you considering that's his bag.

If someone was brave (read: stupid) enough to actually comment on Two-Face being there with their looks? "It'd be a damn shame for me to take out your eyes-" and a lisping growl from Harv as they get far too close to whoever said it. If it's you, they're lifting the person off their feet and there's a need to get them to cool off.

HATES asylum bits. Especially if there's poorly done plot-lines with DID in them. "Been there!" Harv exclaims. "Done that-" Harvey finishes. It's just tasteless and insulting at this point, especially given the large amount of press given to the rotating door residents of Arkham. Similarly to Penguin, he'll like historical themes, especially mobsters and the like.

Black Mask

Honestly? You convince him and I'm not sure it would go well. The park doesn't want to let him in due to the "mask" on his face and he's threatening staff members. You have to remember his medical documentation or else NEITHER of you will be getting into the park. Then someone asks if he wants a disability pass and he's throwing another fit. The semi-ableist toxicity is real if it's towards himself. To be clear, if you needed accommodations he'd fight bare-knuckled for you. The next realistic thing that I could see happening? Someone jumps at you and Roman, on instinct, knocks their lights out and you get kicked from the park.

We'll pretend that didn't happen though. He's cocky and refuses to be scared by anything. Someone jumps at him, he just glares at them in some strange macho way of trying to intimidate them. This results in some fun interactions where there's just. a stand-off. The scare actors might even know who he is and they know he can't do shit about it here. He's forced to play into it until you pull him away. It goes about the same for rude guests, although he might actually have those guys killed off screen later.

He will not comment on prices of anything because he's better than that. Also, I mean, it's one banana, Michael. What could it cost? 10 dollars? He does have that... rich people blindness to what something should cost vs. mark up. So yeah you'll be leaving with plenty of things you absolutely did not need but it caught your eye and he wants you happy.

He's dead-set on none of it scares him when you ask him what he liked. Not the question you were asking but O-K. In truth, he doesn't like incredibly low-light mazes because he doesn't like being unable to see what's in front of him- nor does he like grasping his way around with his hands. He doesn't mind body horror, especially face action. Makes him think of his start...

Mr. Freeze

You have to convince him to go and you pretty much have to promise to be at his side the entire time. It isn't because he's cowardly or anxious, he just doesn't like jump scares. If it's at you or at minimum both of you, that takes some of the edge of it off. It's an activity for the two of you, not... random people trying to scare a man in a full breathing apparatus.

The funny thing about this is that scare actors typically will not go for him. He's tall, broad, and he's recognizable as THE Mr. Freeze from a distance. Some people might even think he's a scare actor until they're right up on him. This does work to his advantage to rude guests, though. He just sort of... looks at them. Doesn't need to do much and they back off.

He doesn't really eat. Not... in public anyways. He has his nutritional lines that pumps directly into his system allowing a perfect ratio of needed calories for the night. He also doesn't see the joy or interest in merchandising. He won't object to you partaking, however.

His feelings on scare actors does transfer to the whole of mazes. It's just... not really his thing. He will like themes related to the arctic or freezing, predictably enough. Sort of a happy place. It's what his perfect world would look like, except for you in protective gear yourself. Perhaps more theming related to science fiction? He did always like those comics as a young boy...

Ra's al-Ghul

Why would you pay to get scared? That's the first thing he asks. Then when you try to explain it, he goes off into a ramble about the state of the world. People used to have problems- things they were really frightened of! Yes, ghost and horror stories always existed but this is taking it to an entirely new level- He's going to sound like such an old man about this. Yes, you have to convince him.

When people jump at him, he just rather... blinks. Unlike Black Mask who is trying to keep an image, Ra's is truly unphased. He will compliment a scare actors makeup and is pleasantly surprised when they pose mid-snarl for him to get a better look. Ah. It's theatrics. The people who do this are proud of the artistry. Interactive play... Hm. It puts it in a different, more enjoyable light for him.

Will not be purchasing any expensive merchandising. The whole thing is gauche and reeks of capitalism. Outside of the people actually working the event, he feels surrounded by entitlement and rude behaviors. He is one drunk guest bumping into him and saying something before he contemplates Actual Crimes. He'll opt to glare into their soul instead but they don't know how close he was.

Gravely insulted by any kind of theming about indigenous cultures (not done correctly/thrashed) or "ancient spooky religions oooo." He feels a deep hostility that turns him into a bit of a Karen, I'm ngl to you. However, will appreciate a well-decorated set that fits a theme. It has to make sense.

Bane

No. Very politely, just no. It's not about how you ask him or how you convince him, this is a hard no for him. He does not like people jumping at him, he does not like the tight spaces. Nothing about scare actors or mazes appeals to him. Plus, he knows his instinct in fight, flight or freeze is to fight. He knows he would lash out at someone on instinct and that would be irresponsible of him to go to an event like this.

Take him trick or treating. Hell, take him trunk-or-treating. He'd love to go to a pumpkin patch with you! He'll gladly try to go to a theme park with you outside of a horror event. He might have a hard time fitting in on rides but... He'll go! Just, please, mi amor, don't ask him to do this one thing.

He would absolutely support you going. Pick you up and drop you off, even just so you're not driving late or having to pay for a hotel. If you need extra money for a ticket or for merchandise to go with your friends, he's more than happy to help out. There's nothing in him that wants to ruin something you genuinely enjoy.

You can tell him all about it once you're home with him. Fun stories or your favorite mazes and why- Let him share this with you in a different way.

[elliewritesgarbage]

not my usual post but, i’m going to an orthopedic on tuesday and i want some advice/ wanna make sure i’m asking the correct questions.

i’ve been having chronic pain in my knee for years but this past weekend it got worse. i literally can’t stand on it for too long or it gives out. it’s almost like an achey pain, idk if that counts

i also don’t know if i can call it chronic pain cuz it’s been 4 years pretty consistently but i dunno, that feels like i’m overstepping. if someone could lmk abt that id be appreciative.

but, at the doctor i’m assuming they’re just gonna tell me to do pt and wear a brace and i do both and i don’t really feel any relief. i’ve been thinking that maybe a cane would help but i’m not really sure. cuz in my head canes are for back pain(?) i could totally be wrong and if someone could enlighten me i’d be really happy abt that cuz if that would bring me some relief i wanna ask the right ppl

that being said i’m tagging this disability, i don’t think i’m disabled, so i promise i’m not trying to overstep or anything like that or take an identity, but, i feel like yall would have the best advice for me… if it bugs anyone just lmk ill take it down.

[earthstellar]

Concept: TFP Ratchet with a cane.

Maybe he gets called out to assist in the field after someone gets injured, but in the process he gets thrown around by a Vehicon and it's one blow too many to a joint, perhaps his right hip or knee, and it cracks and misaligns.

Sure, once he addresses the injuries of the others, he gets up on his examination table (with Optimus' help) and gives himself a good look-over, he can get it back in the socket reasonably well, but it's just not fully repairable with their limited resources on Earth -- and his age and general wear over so many centuries means it's a trickier repair with a longer recovery time.

He can't really fix it, and it's not really going to heal on its own.

The fracture welds need strong nanites to fully integrate, and his nanites are pretty tired. The damage to the socket means the joint could slip out of place again relatively easily.

So, he makes himself a cane, and even though he doesn't say it out loud, he's very glad that the others hold back any comments they might have about it.

Because he is now well and truly unable to go out in the field at all for the foreseeable future.

Even if he utilises his alt-mode, off roading in the rocky desert terrain of rural Nevada is too much physical strain on his injured joint. His shock absorbers just can't manage it.

So he fits himself with a limb brace to hopefully help prevent any repeat misalignments, but he can't put all that much weight on it. He can't fully rotate it, which limits his range of movement a bit.

He's slower, he has to be more careful, he can't stand at his terminal or his work station for so long anymore.

It's a difficult adjustment.

Rafael helps.

He notices how much Ratchet is struggling at first, and does his best to distract him by asking him to sit and teach him more Cybertronian, teach him more alien coding, help him with another school project.

Anything he can do to remind Ratchet that he is still so important and useful and irreplaceable.

And the others linger around a bit (but not too obviously, or so they think) in an effort to help where they can, too.

If his cane slips out of his grip, Bumblebee is there to pick it up. When he can't get himself up on his examination table to monitor his welds, Optimus picks him up and sets him down.

When he gets too anxious or depressed about not being as able to assist in the field anymore, the others take the opportunity to get a break in and wait around a little longer if they can, just to reassure Ratchet that they're OK and they're watching each other's backs and they'll keep him updated and they love him all the same.

Optimus is always through the ground bridge first, always gives a full report to Ratchet; When they are at base together, Optimus is found with Ratchet more often than not. As much time as they can spend together, they do. Ratchet wants all the details, and Optimus wants to be there for his old friend.

After a while, Ratchet starts to teach the others basic field first aid, out of the sheer anxiety of worrying about not being able to go out and assess/retrieve anyone on the field himself.

Everyone tolerates it at first out of a desire to reassure Ratchet that they actually can take care of themselves and each other, but the knowledge very much does come in handy, in more ways than one.

Does it make Ratchet feel a little bit more like he's not needed as much anymore? Inevitably, a little bit, yes.

But everyone does their best to make sure Ratchet is involved in everything he can be, everything he wants to be, as much as possible.

They might know how to identify and solder someone's primary fuel line in an emergency scenario now, but nothing and nobody can replace their medic.

Eventually Bulkhead and Wheeljack surprise him by making him a custom Cybertronian style wheelchair so he can get around the base a little easier when walking with the cane is a little too difficult for him, so he doesn't have to keep getting up and sitting down over and over again.

Agent Fowler makes it clear that if they need to redesign the base to accommodate more space for Ratchet to get around, he can and will make that happen at any time. Whatever is needed,he'll deal with any whining from his higher ups.

Ratchet may or may not have been genuinely touched by this; If you heard him get choked up, no you didn't. :')

Eventually Ratchet does adjust, but the first few weeks/months are hard for him.

But all the support, subtle or otherwise, from his teammates and the humans alike makes it easier and easier to get used to.

(And he is proud of Rafael's progress with Cybertronian language. Time well spent, even if it's not being spent in the field anymore.)

IDK just thinking while I'm on my lunch break lol

[fandomfreakstudios]

Morning Moments

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3

Imagine this.

Bojack is 60, Peanutbutter is 55. It’s the early hours of the morning and the two are waking up together.

Its 6:30. Bojack hates the early mornings, but he loves his partner. He has no reason to be up this early, the adult theatre class he volunteers at starts in the afternoon. But he gets up anyways.

He’s sore. His back is starting to get bad again. I mean, breaking that thing twice in less than a year would obviously have some long lasting effects. He grunts slightly as he sits up, and Peanutbutter, who’s somehow already up and moving around the room hears him.

Peanutbutter doesn’t even need to ask what’s wrong. He knows his partner and knows his body better than anyone. Before Bojack can even really process, he’s being coaxed on his back for a massage.

Bojack is pulled out of his grogginess by this, the sleepy fog lifting as Peanutbutter hits all the right spots. Peanutbutter starts giggling and messing with Bojack, knowing he’s feeling better. Tickling him a bit… letting his hands wander… getting a touch grabbier… “We have plenty of time before work, right?”

Now they’re dressed and showered. Bojack sits perched at the kitchen island nursing a cup of tea, as Peanutbutter made breakfast. His eyes linger on his partner for a moment, affection etched in every feature on his face. His slightly greying fur, the lines by his eyes, the most imperceptible limp caused by his knee brace, made a necessity by a knee injury that just refused to go away. Bojack looked down at his own cane he had to use now, sympathizing with his partner’s frustration.

His partner was old. He was old. That shouldn’t be as mind blowing as it is, but it was just a tad strange considering BOTH of their dating histories. Bojack is growing old with someone he loves. He has to bite down on his finger to not cry.

Bojack always drives Peanutbutter into work. They drive with the roof down, they play music and sing along, Bojack rests his free hand on Peanutbutter’s thigh, they kiss at stop lights.

Once Bojack returns home he immediately goes to fall back asleep on the couch. He could have just stayed asleep but those precious morning moments with his partner were worth more than anything else in the world

[cosmicjoke]

This Life, After

Chapter 1:

Levi wakes in the morning after three hours sleep. Normal, for him. How it will always be.

There’s no one in his life anymore that he needs to worry about dying. About being eaten by titans, or killed by violence or disease.

There are no titans anymore. There is no war. The medicine in this new world is beyond anything Levi ever dreamed of, living in the squalor of the Underground, thoughts of clean living and good food and fresh air, up above, always filling his head.

All the things he has now.

None of that stops the dreams.

They still come to him every night. He still sees their stricken faces, eyes wide with horror, bloody and torn to pieces as they beg for him to save them.

Erwin. Hange. Petra. Olu. Gunter. Mike.

Furlan… Isabel.

All of them.

Well, it’s just the way it is for him. No use hanging on to it in the warm, morning light slanting through the half-pulled curtains over his small bedroom’s single window.

The images smear and wash from his mind as he pushes himself up and slides himself to the edge of his mattress.

As it is every time he stands now, Levi has to brace himself for it.

He reaches out, gripping the corner of his nightstand with his three, remaining fingers, and uses it to help lever himself to his feet.

His bad knee creaks and cries out in protest as he puts his weight on it, threatening to give out, and Levi pulls a deep breath in through his nose to steady himself, waiting until the sharp throbbing dies down into something more manageable before he reaches with his left hand for the cane propped against the wall between the table and bed frame.

It’s a relief as he transfers his weight from his leg to the stick.

He hobbles to the washroom.

He might be embarrassed by how long it takes him to make it across the floor, if anyone were here to witness it.

But the house is quiet.

It won’t stay that way.

Later, Gabi and Falco will arrive. They will have breakfast with him, as they do every morning. And then they will help him to his shop, help him to open, and set up.

The both of them will be off to some fancy university in a couple of years. They won’t have time to see Levi every morning when they do, he supposes.

That’s alright.

He’s glad to know they got accepted. Glad to know they’ve got the brains for it.

Education was important. Erwin used to tell him that. Hange too.

Levi never went to school. Not a single day of it.

That deprivation made itself known to him in strange ways, sometimes. Most times, he got by just fine.

He takes a shower. The water comes out warm just by him turning the handle the right way.

They had plumbing here, in Marley. They hadn’t had that back on Paradis. Not Underground, and not back when he’d first joined the Scouts, and had been a younger man. Then, they’d had to pump the water from a well.

He has to take showers sitting down now. Falco had helped him install a little bench along the stall where he could do that.

He doesn’t let himself indulge in the warm water, even though it feels nice. He’s out in five minutes.

He shaves.

The sparse stubble he’s always had is even patchier around the gnarled scars which mar both sides of his face.

It no longer hurts, the way it did early on. It’s numb now as he drags the straight razor over and around the puckered, white skin.

His right eye is milked over and blind, the scar which runs from his forehead and over it, down across his lips and chin, often frightens the new customers who wander into his shop, their eyes widening with fear, sometimes disgust, when they see him. They’re never rude enough to say anything.

Children openly stare at him. Sometimes they point. Sometimes, he hears people whisper as he passes.

“Look at that man’s face.”

“Don’t you know who that is?”

“No. Who is it?”

“Captain Levi Ackerman. The Eldian who helped save Marely.”

“That’s Captain Levi? He’s so small though.”

It hardly registers.

He’s been treated far worse in his life. Spoken of so much worse.

Anyway, he was always ugly. Everyone told him so. A few scars weren’t going to make much difference.

He combs his hair, then goes back out into his room and dresses.

He’d had a hard time, at first, buttoning his shirts, with the index and middle fingers of his right hand gone. But he’d gotten used to that too, eventually. The same as he’d gotten used to performing menial tasks, like holding utensils, holding his cups the way he preferred. He’d spilled hot tea all over himself more times than he can recall.

Every time that had happened, Gabi and Falco had fussed over him as if he were a small child, frightened that his skin had been burnt.

A few times it had.

It made him think of Hange. How they had died.

They’d had so much courage.

He doesn’t like to think on it. Makes his guts twist all up and his throat tight. He thinks how much pain they must have been in. How scared.

He thinks these things about all of them, at different times. All his comrades.

All his friends…

Those first, several months… after the war had at last ended, Levi had spent in a hospital.

It hadn’t just been his face that the blast from the thunderspear had damaged.

His insides had been a mess.

The doctors told him it was a miracle he hadn’t died. That they didn’t understand how he’d lasted so many days after the initial blast without proper medical treatment, let alone how he’d been able to fight.

He hadn’t bothered explaining to them about his blood. About how being an Ackerman made him stronger, supposedly.

He would never again walk unaided. That one had to do with his leg nearly getting bitten off by a titan.

Some days, Levi thought, if he had to, he could still use ODM.

But there was no need for that, anymore. Because there were no titans.

He moves then from his bedroom and out into the hall. It’s only a short distance to the kitchen.

Levi had wanted a single story house, when he’d moved here. Well, he hadn’t really moved. Just decided to stay.

He hadn’t ever wanted to go back to the island, even if he’d been able. He couldn’t either way, on account of the Jaegerists, and how they still considered all of them who’d stopped Eren enemies. Well, even without that…

Too many bad memories, he guesses.

A single-story house, he’d said, on account of his bad leg. He didn’t want to have to go up and down no stairs.

Onyankopon had helped him find one and buy it. The same for where he’d eventually set up his tea shop. He wouldn’t have known where to start without the other man’s help, since Levi didn’t know anything about that sort of thing. He’d never owned anything. Never owned any kind of property.

His life in the Underground had been nothing but squatting down in one abandoned hovel after another, moving constantly when things got too heated, either from rival gangs, or the MPs, or, when he’d been a kid, just any passing fucker with bad intentions, looking to snatch up or steal from a lone child with no one looking out for them. Before that, even, there’d been the whore house his mother worked in. After it all, he’d lived in military barracks.

So, there he was, almost 40 years old, and he hadn’t known nothing about buying a house. And so Onyankopon had helped, talked to all the people that needed talking to, and taken care of all the paperwork. All Levi’d had to do was give him the money. Easy. He’d had almost everything saved up from his time in the Corps still, all of it. He’d never spent it on anything. Nothing to buy.

He puts a kettle on the stove for tea. He sets to breakfast.

Gabi and Falco will be by in a little less than half an hour.

Levi likes to think he’s become alright at cooking simple foods. Stews and breads and things like that.

He makes egg white omelets now, with diced tomatoes and avocado. Gabi likes the avocado. He slices and toasts some bread, spreads marmalade over Falco’s, jam for Gabi and himself.

The two brats arrive just as he’s plating the food. He hears them come in through the front, Gabi’s excited chatter filtering in, Falco’s quiet responses following after.

They remind him, in so many ways, of Furlan and Isabel. Sometimes, when he looks at the two of them, he swears he sees his family, and his breath catches in his throat, and his eyes burn, and he has to look away.

One time he called Gabi Isabel by mistake, and she’d looked at him in alarm, and Levi had turned his face away, ashamed and embarrassed, muttering an apology.

“Mr. Levi!” Gabi calls loudly, and a moment later, she comes skidding into the kitchen, breathless and happy. Falco is right behind, his entrance quieter, but the smile on his face just as genuine.

“Hey, brats.” Levi says in way of hello, setting their plates down on the table.

Gabi strides towards him in her confidence, throws her arms around him in a hug.

She’s taller than him now, by a good three inches. Falco by almost half a foot. They’ll keep growing, he knows.

Levi hugs her back, awkward and stiff. He should be used to hers and Falco’s affection by now, but he isn’t. He doesn’t think he ever will be.

Falco hugs him too, after Gabi pulls away, his arms gentler around Levi’s shoulders.

“How are you?” The boy asks, looking down at him with the same, pinched concern he always greets Levi with.

“Fine.” Levi tells him, the same as every time he asks. “Sit down and eat, you two, before it goes cold.”

He can feel Falco’s eyes on him as he turns and hobbles over to the ice box. He ignores it. They don’t need to be worrying about him. They have their own lives ahead of them. Their time should be spent on that.

He retrieves the pitcher of juice he’d put in there last night to cool, brings it back to the table and pours them each a glass. He goes to the stove when the kettle whistles, and pours himself a cup of tea.

Gabi’s already sat down, inhaling her food. Falco is still standing, waits for Levi to finish pouring and then pulls his chair out for him.

Levi almost snaps at him that he doesn’t need his help, but he swallows it down. The boy is just being kind to a crippled old man.

So he mutters out a thank you instead and lets himself fall heavily into the hardbacked chair.

He hooks his cane over its back.

He asks the two of them how things are going in school, and Gabi chatters away excitedly about their classes. She tells him in their science class, they’re dissecting frogs, and the food in Levi’s mouth turns sour at the thought. He thinks poor things, and says nothing. Falco says they’re going to start learning about the wars, soon, between Marley and Eldia, and the table goes quiet at that.

Levi thinks its pointless, to explain to those who have lost why they have lost. It doesn’t make the feel of it go away.

“If anyone says anything rotten about us Eldian’s, I’ll knock their fuckin’ teeth in.” Gabi declares.

“Gabi!” Falco gasps, as if her language is going to offend anyone sitting here.

Levi stares at his eggs. His stomach hurts. He forces himself to eat anyway. He could never justify wasting food. You can’t, he thinks, when you know what it feels like to truly starve.

He scraps his knife and fork through the eggs, his grip clumsy and slow. He can’t hold the knife right. Shit, he… He’s gotta’ be able to hold the knife right, he thinks. There’s a tight, flighty feeling in his chest, all of a sudden. How’s he gonna’ show Kenny he knows right, if he can’t… Can’t even grip the damn thing right? Kenny’ll be mad, if he can’t… he’ll… he’ll take him out back again, whip his hide raw with his belt, ‘till Levi starts crying and begging him to stop, and that’ll just make Kenny madder, and he’ll… he’ll…

The sound of metal on ceramic grates in his ears.

“Just take a giant shit on their desk.” He says. “That’ll hurt worse.”

The air goes still and silent. He looks up, sees Gabi and Falco staring at him and Levi realizes a beat too late they don’t know what he’s talking about. Minutes have passed since Gabi’s comment about knocking fuckers teeth out. Levi got stuck in his own head again.

He looks away, and sees he’s cut his eggs to ribbons.

“Anyone talks shit in class,” he mutters, ignoring the heat spreading over his cheeks. “just take a giant shit on their desk. It’ll save your knuckles from getting busted.”

Another, heavy beat passes, and then Gabi bursts out laughing. Falco chuckles nervously beside her.

Gabi’d gotten used to Levi’s crass humor pretty quickly. Falco, not so much. Kid thinks he’s weird, Levi knows. Well, he is weird, he guesses. That was alright.

After breakfast, Levi insists on cleaning the dishes and putting them away, like he always does, and Gabi and Falco wait for him out in the entryway.

By the time he rejoins them, Falco’s already got his wheelchair set up and waiting, unfolded from its spot near the front door, where Levi keeps it leant against the wall. He only uses it when he’s got to go a distance longer than a mile.

He hadn’t wanted to use it at all, at first. He’d been a stubborn ass, insisting he was fine to go on long walks with just the cane.

That stubbornness hadn’t lasted long. Not much after he’d gotten set up here, after the deal for his new house had been finalized, and Gabi, Falco and Onyankopon had helped him move in, he’d agreed to accompany Onyankopon on a walk downtown, and not half an hour into the fucking thing, Levi’s leg had cramped up so bad on him, he’d collapsed in the middle of a busy market and thrown up in front of a startled, gathering crowd, the pain had been so bad.

Levi can’t remember ever feeling what he’d felt then. His skin had turned so hot, it’d felt like someone was holding a flame to it, his stomach tight and nauseas, like how you felt in free fall, sometimes. He remembers thinking he had to get away. Needing desperately to get away where no one could see him. No one could look at him.

And he’d cursed himself for his stupidity.

Because he’d felt his leg going lame on him long before then. Had felt the telltale pings and twinges and throbbing which let him know he was putting too much strain on his fucked-up knee. Had felt the creeping ache which always started just above the joint, and traveled slowly down the whole of his calf, into his ankle, ‘till it felt like the whole fucking limb was being flayed and peeled and crushed with stones.

He'd ignored it because he’d thought, for some stupid fucking reason, Onyankopon would think less of him if he couldn’t keep up. And even when his whole face had started breaking out in a thick sweat, the same pooling in the pits of his arms, and he knew he must stink, and his whole lower half on his left side went numb up through his hip, except for the zap of wretched burning each time he took a step, and he couldn’t feel his foot striking the ground anymore, still, he hadn’t said shit.

Well, and he’d paid for it alright, because as fucking embarrassing as all that had been, it was even worse when he’d realized he couldn’t stand back up on his own, and Onyankopon had had to lift him onto his back like a damned child and carry him back to his house.

So he’d accepted he needed the damned chair.

He settles himself down into it now, laying his cane across his lap.

“You want your hat, Mr. Levi?” Falco asks. “It’s pretty sunny out today.”

“Sunglasses too, Mr. Levi.” Gabi points out.

Levi blinks, and then nods.

This is how they take care of him. These small sorts of details they notice. Which Levi is hardly aware of himself.

He gets headaches, now. From the sun. A cluster of pain which forms behind his ruined, right eye.

Gabi fetches the things for him. A wide brimmed fedora and a pair of round, blacked out spectacles.

Levi likes the way they hide his face. The way that, when he wears them, people notice him less.

The fewer people that notice him, the less people want to speak with him, the less chance he has of saying or doing something to make them uncomfortable.

He’s always a disappointment, he guesses.

The walk to his shop takes only fifteen or so minutes, and is uneventful, as it is most days. Gabi pushes his chair at a leisurely pace, Falco beside her, just behind Levi’s periphery. Levi keeps himself occupied with the paper in his hands, ignoring the passing people.

He’s tried to get better at reading, in his time after the war. Wasn’t much else for him to do, other than run the shop. He was never going to be brilliant, the way Hange or Erwin had been. He still struggles with anything above the reading level of a grade schooler.

Exercise could be difficult too, though he still kept up a routine in the afternoons and before he went to bed. Pushups and sit ups. He had a few weights he moved around. It was pathetic, compared to what he once could do. But he kept in shape as best he could.

Once they arrive, Gabi and Falco help him set up shop. Levi unlocks the front entrance, and the two brats hurry inside, beginning without needing to be told to take the chairs from where they sit waiting along the surfaces of the scattered tables, positioning them neatly into place while Levi heads to the backroom to take inventory and start in on setting up his displays.

Gabi and Falco can’t stay long after that. Gabi pokes her head round the door, looking into Levi’s stockroom.

“We’re heading to school now, Mr. Levi. We got all the chairs set up, and Falco opened the register for you. You okay from here?” She asks.

Levi waves a hand at her, keeping his focus on the tin he’s holding. He’s running low on this particular blend. He’s going to have to order more soon. He hates dealing with the suppliers.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Alright! We’ll see you for dinner later!”

And with that, he hears the two of them scamper out, the little bell Gabi had insisted he put over the door to let him know when customers had entered reaching his ears faintly.

He sighs, pushing himself up with his hands on his knees, the joints aching viciously as he straightens. He’s not even that old, but some days he feels ancient.

He grabs his cane in one hand, holding the tin in the other, and heads for the front counter, where the telephone sits. Levi still can’t quite get over that particular contraption. How much easier would it have made things, back on Paradis, to be able to deliver urgent messages and orders in seconds, rather than the hours it often took to send a rider out?

Well, it was pointless, wondering over things like that.

It was all over, anyway.

He lifts the receiver from its cradle and begins turning the dial to ring his supplier.

The static that fills his ear as he presses the receiver to it makes him think of sound of wind rushing. The deafening wash of a titan’s roar.

[wordy-little-witch]

Have some random headcanon bullshit -

Tsams + Tlaes edition

• Earth is now rolling with the disability squad (welcome queen, we love you, sorry you're here). Given that Moon redirected most of her pain receptors to her legs, she now has issues with mobility in her lower back, hips, knees and ankles.

• Solar also has lasting damage from the separation from his Sun (mostly in code hiccups that impact his balance or weight baring on occassion, from a data-loss in transit on top of a... very specifically callibrated virus that ate at some of his code before it was intercepted. You know what happened there and who took it). He uses a forearm crutch on bad days, and has some braces he made that he wears under his pants.

• Sun has some lasting issues from his separation from Moon, too - when the killcode was left behind, the only way to keep it all sort of balanced out to avoid systemic corruption was for Moon to kinda... scrape pieces away to make up for the exchange. He never told Sun about that, assuming his code would self-repair it if it was harmful. It never did. Sunny doesn't really have an aid yet but he really should use one.

• Solar decides that actually ya know what, fuck all of this shit. And he goes into his files, finds the exact heights and weights for both, and sets to welding. Adjustable braces, canes, forearm crutches, and even some blueprints for walkers or wheelchairs Just In Case. Then he takes the finished projects home, buys all sorts or decorative shit, and summons Earth and Sun.

• they all sit together outside and Solar lays out a tarp. There's no reason to be uncomfortable by needing help, he tells them, so this is gonna make the help fun. He hopes. They all decorate and have a good with it. When earth needs a break, they just curl up together and Sun weaves custom straps for them all, picking threads and just... talking.

• the family gets good at reading when Earth is having a Bad Pain Day - due in part to Solar calling it immediately, no nonsense, or Sun clocking it and immediately going into Big Brother Mode - but it also makes the others recognize how Sunny does similar things. Aggressive love.

• Cleo and Muffin become a source of reference too - it's almost hilarious bc the cats are just "no fuck you all we are GOD" but also the MOMENT Sun, Solar or Earth have a twinge? It's immediately a Miette Moment. "No, we must be held, must purr, must cuddle, must HEAL YOU, protecc, LET US LOVE YOU"

• Dazzle and Jack are very excited to help BTW, idek if I should include this bc it feels obvious. They both just kinda ascend out of the woodwork like "hello I love you, need snackies? Snuggles? How help-?"

• CUDDLE! PUDDLES!!

• color coded heat pads/ice packs.

• it's not uncommon at all for Monty to come home and find Solar and Earth draped partially across the side of the pool, mostly submerged, and Sun either half-in/half out, or straight up laying on the bottom. He installed a fuckin incredible heater to it, making the pool an optional hot tub. He just goes "oh, hey, fellas, hey, baby. Need anything?"

• Earth's cane is pink with teal clouds and yellow, lavender, and white stars w/ sparkles. Her crutches are dark green with hearts all over them in colors she associates with family. ((Both have barbie charms on the straps))

• Solar's crutches were going to be a dark gray with neat techno designs, but Jack accidentally grabbed one with paint on his hands, and Solar decided that it was... kinda cute actually. Family hand prints. He only uses one at a time usually, so he trades them out.

• Sun's are all different. He let the kids design one of his crutches ((the reason Jack had paint-hands with Solar's)) and the one from them is kind of... cream? Ish?? With stickers, googly eyes, lopsided smiley faces, rainbows, and a blob that is supposedly a unicorn. His other crutch is sort of like a sunset, light at the top, dark at the bottom, with his favorite constellations scattered throughout. The cane is sparkly gold with red ribbons along the handle.