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cookinguptales · 1 year

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You know... I had an experience about two months ago that I didn't talk about publicly, but I've been turning it over and over in my mind lately and I guess I'm finally able to put my unease into words.

So there's a podcast I'd been enjoying and right after I got caught up, they announced that they were planning on doing a live show. It's gonna be near me and on the day before my birthday and I thought -- hey, it's fate.

But... as many of you know, I'm disabled. For me, getting to a show like that has a lot of steps. One of those steps involved emailing the podcasters to ask about accessibility for the venue.

The response I got back was very quick and very brief. Essentially, it told me to contact the venue because they had no idea if it was accessible or not.

It was a bucket of cold water, and I had a hard time articulating at the time quite why it was so disheartening, but... I think I get it a little more now.

This is a podcast that has loudly spoken about inclusivity and diversity and all that jazz, but... I mean, it's easy to say that, isn't it? But just talking the talk without walking the walk isn't enough. That's like saying "sure, we will happily welcome you in our house -- if you can figure out how to unlock the door."

And friends, my lock-picking set is pretty good by this point. I've been scouting out locations for decades. I've had to research every goddamn classroom, field trip, and assigned bookstore that I've ever had in an academic setting. I've had to research every movie theater, theme park, and menu for every outing with friends or dates. I spend a long time painstakingly charting out accessible public transportation and potential places to sit down every time I leave the house.

Because when I was in college, my professors never made sure their lesson plans were accessible. (And I often had to argue with them to get the subpar accommodations I got.) Because my friends don't always know to get movie tickets for the accessible rows. Because my dates sometimes leave me on fucking read when I ask if we can go to a restaurant that doesn't keep its restrooms down a flight of stairs.

I had one professor who ever did research to see if I could do all the coursework she had planned, and who came up with alternate plans when she realized that I could not. Only one. It was a medical history and ethics class, and my professor sounded bewildered as she realized how difficult it is to plan your life when you're disabled.

This woman was straight-up one of the most thoughtful, philosophical, and ethical professors I've ever had, one who was incredibly devoted to diversity and inclusion -- and she'd never thought about it before, that the hospital archives she wanted us to visit were up a flight of stairs. That the medical museum full of disabled bodies she wanted us to visit only had a code-locked back entrance and an old freight elevator for their disabled guests who were still breathing.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? It's easy to theoretically accept the existence of people who aren't like you. It's a lot harder to actively create a space in which they can exist by your side.

Because here's what I did before I contacted the podcasters. I googled the venue. I researched the neighborhood and contacted a friend who lives in the area to help me figure out if there were any accessible public transportation routes near there. (There aren't.) I planned for over an hour to figure out how close I could get before I had to shell out for an uber for the last leg of the trip.

Then I read through the venue's website. I looked through their main pages, through their FAQs to see if there was any mention of accessibility. No dice. I download their packet for clients and find out that, while the base building is accessible, the way that chairs/tables are set up for individual functions can make it inaccessible. So it's really up to who's hosting the show there.

So then and only then I contacted the podcasters. I asked if the floor plan was accessible. I asked if all the seats were accessible, or only some, and whether it was open seating or not. Would I need to show up early to get an accessible seat, or maybe make a reservation?

And... well, I got the one-sentence reply back that I described above. And that... god, it was really disheartening. I realized that they never even asked if their venues were accessible when they were booking the shows. I realized that they were unwilling to put in the work to learn the answers to questions that disabled attendees might have. I realized that they didn't care to find out if the building was accessible.

They didn't know and they didn't care. That, I think, is what took the wind out of my sails when they emailed me back. It's what made me decide that... yeah, I didn't really want to go through the trouble of finding an accessible route to the venue. I didn't want to have to pay an arm and a leg to hire a car to take me the last part of the journey. I didn't want to make myself frantic trying to figure out if I could do all that and still make the last train home.

If they didn't care, I guess I didn't either.

If they'd apologized and said that the only venue they could get was inaccessible, I actually would have understood. I know that small shows don't always get their pick of venues. I get it. I even would have understood if they'd been like "oh dang, I actually don't know -- but I'll find out."

But to be told that they didn't know and didn't intend to find out... oof. That one stung.

Because.... this is the thing. This is the thing. I may be good at it by now, but I'm so tired of picking locks. I'm tired of doing all the legwork because no one ever thinks to help me. I'm tired of feeling like an afterthought at best, or at worst utterly unwelcome.

If you truly want to be inclusive, you need to stop telling people that you're happy to have them -- if they can manage to unlock the door. You need to fucking open it yourself and welcome them in.

What brought all this back to me now, you may be asking? Well... I guess it's just what I was thinking to myself as I was tidying up my phone.

Today I'm deleting podcasts.

#I guess it did save me a lot of money #I'll still probably go up to nyc to visit with friends for my bday but I won't go all the way out to brooklyn for the show #and I probably won't need to get the hotel room #and I DEFINITELY won't be supporting their patreon like I was planning lmao #I'll buy myself a new tarot deck for my birthday instead #cw:#disability #ableism

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eileenthecrow · 2 years

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i want to say as much as i understand criticisms of modern web design for being sterile and boring it is important to point out that part of that is because theyre designed with modern accessibility practices in mind. like 90s-early 2000s websites often were very hard to read and lacked color contrast/effective negative spacing and like i get that its boring to look at now but the nostalgia factor isnt more important than like. people having their disabilities accommodated im sure theres a middle ground that could and probably should exist and a lot of that has to do with capitalism etc etc but like old web design practices werent like....good lmao

#this is not about the state of advertising and the fact that companies #blast our eyes with the corporate equivalent of malware symptoms #thats a different conversation #anyway i just wanted to say that because #i think people get really caught up in the reactionary thing of like well this is being made boring to make it easier to market or whatever #because modernity is associated with sterility and monochromatic color palettes #which i get #but ur criticisms of capitalism arent valid if they dont also take into account the disabled #which is a topic thats overlooked (intentionally) in a lot of these conversations because its easier to #vilify tech and the modernization of the internet if u arent thinking about the benefits that some people (the disabled) might get from tha #that* lmfao

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tossawary · 6 months

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At the end of "Fullmetal Alchemist", Ed Elric quits the military, has given up his ability to "play god", and is (as he has been since he burned his fucking house down as a tweenager) homeless, disabled, and crashing at the Rockbell place to help his very sick brother recover.

And it's easy and funny to imagine Edward Elric essentially becoming the house husband of successful and innovative automail mechanic Winry Rockbell (and later a stay-at-home dad). Small family businesses are pretty much always a mess of needing an extra hand just to answer phones and the mail, to schedule appointments, to deliver and pick up parts, to organize stock, to "just hold this for a second for me", and so on. Pinako is not getting any younger and could use someone to cook dinner and fix the roof while she rests her back!!! Winry is busy!!!

There is also always a lot to do in a rural community, so I'm sure that Ed would find another hobby in the absence of alchemy and could turn it into a gig if necessary, if he really doesn't like automail. He has a lot of skills that he could potentially turn towards an income. I've also generally assumed that Ed made a pretty decent amount of money as a State Alchemist and still has some generous savings on that front.

But I was also thinking that it would be kind of funny if being a State Alchemist came with incredible retirement benefits. Like, the military wants to lure people in with wealth and power and resources - and then make alchemists desperate enough to keep these things that they become walking weapons of war, commit horrible crimes against humanity in the name of "research", and/or resort to human transmutation and become viable sacrifices. Ed never had to worry about getting kicked out (and presumably losing his benefits) because he was a perfect human sacrifice from the get-go (although he didn't know this). I'm guessing a lot of State Alchemists were never actually able to retire between dying in wars, failing out of the program (the brass finding excuses to save money! Bosses are always cheap!), getting arrested for speaking out or actually getting caught publicly doing bad shit, and being murdered for their crimes against humanity.

But, in theory, maybe the State Alchemist retirement benefits were absolutely incredible if you could somehow survive long enough or get permission for an early, "honorable" retirement, because King Bradley (who let's say set up this financial bait) somewhat reasonably assumed that Father would completely destroy the country before he'd ever have to pay out a pension. Which means that Ed could be out of the military for years and somehow still costing Roy Mustang a lot of money.

#tossawary fma #edward elric #king bradley #winry rockbell #spoilers #character death #violence

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zahri-melitor · 6 months

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One of the many tragedies of Jack Drake is that not only was he bad at being a parent, but that he had the perfect person to discuss how hard the experience was for him right there and yet the only conversation they ever have about parenting Tim is conducted at gunpoint.

Because look at Jack Drake. As far as he was concerned, he had everything under control until Janet died and his world fell apart.

Tim was a Good Kid™ as a kid. He was well behaved and polite and not a difficult child and that's obvious from the fact that many of his memories of his parents together are of being taken out in public. Jack and Janet had one kid and they clearly wanted that kid to enjoy the same things they did, so they took him with them to restaurants and museums and art galleries and the opera. And he enjoyed it and enjoyed that time with them.

Jack however clearly saw his role as a father and a husband in the very traditional position as the main provider. It was his job to work and bring in the income that supported their lifestyle (his depressive episode after losing the company and their having to move makes it very clear how much of his self-worth was tied up in that role). He had a son, but his time with Tim was pretty clearly about taking Tim out with him on a Saturday afternoon to watch sport, or play tennis with his friends, or go to the monster trucks, or go fishing: being able to spend a few hours with Tim and show him off to his friends and then return home and someone else took over looking after Tim. And in his mind, he clearly thought he was a good parent! He spent time with his son! His son was a credit who was worth showing off! He could take Tim with him when he and Janet went out for the evening, and Tim could be relied upon to behave. He was winning at being a father!

The part Jack never realised, of course, was that like many men in his position, he'd handed the day to day logistics of raising a kid over to his wife (Janet) and to people he paid to do it for him (Tim's boarding school). He wasn't the disciplinarian parent. He was the 'fun' parent, who got to have the good times with his child.

If Jack was ever actually involved in decisions about discipline and consequences of actions, it was probably at the ultimate stage: the 'wait til your father gets home' sort of threat. The nuclear option. He didn't handle the everyday stuff - he probably never SAW the everyday stuff.

So, Jack thinks he's a great parent. He can brag to his friends about how well behaved HIS child is, unlike those little ruffians you see screaming in public or whose parents can't take them anywhere because they're disruptive.

Then his world falls apart. He's injured and disabled and grieving. He's a single dad. And the kid he's got is suddenly not the child he remembers. Tim frequently acts out, lies, runs away and comes home with bruises and notes from school saying they’re worried something is going on. He also starts dating and possibly trying to have sex ‘too young’ (being caught with Ariana sleeping over and the couch situation, Steph being pregnant even if Tim insisted it wasn't his).

Jack Drake has to suddenly step up to be the main parent of a 14 year old who he's probably never had that dynamic with. He doesn't have the years of experience in how Tim reacts to various forms of boundaries and punishments, because he's never been the one who set them or enforced them. He's probably never sat down and talked to Tim about his feelings in his life. And Tim, I repeat, is fourteen years old, possibly one of the most difficult ages for a kid. Everyone's 14 year olds are suddenly more difficult than usual and pushing boundaries.

On top of that, he's got to learn this all on the fly, in circumstances where he basically has no support. "Help, I'm a new single father to a teenager' isn't really a genre of self help book or parenting group that gets a lot of love - most people who are single parents aren't men, and most people looking for advice on dealing with problems with raising their kids are talking about under-5s, because by the time kids are out of the toddler stage most parents have a reasonable idea of what works and what doesn't, have networks set up, and are usually reaching out for a bit of advice or support about a specific situation, not Dealing With It All.

What Jack really needs is a buddy or two who are also single fathers to teenage boys, who have experience navigating this, maybe who also acquired responsibility for their son in his teen years. Wow. I mean that's a big ask, but funnily enough, there's someone who lives right next door who exactly fits that description...

(The tragedy that Bruce and Jack only ever have the one discussion about parenting Tim, the kid they've been effectively co-parenting since Tim was 13 years old, and that that discussion took place with Jack holding a gun on Bruce).

So of course Jack is terrible at being a parent to Tim. He's inexperienced, he doesn't have any support, he doesn't SEEK support outside of marrying Dana (and Dana clearly while lovely is both ineffective and reluctant to interfere in Jack and Tim's relationship). Now, he fails on very specific axes, in ways that are both understandable and also signs that Jack has a bad handle on his temper.

His go-to threat is sending Tim back to boarding school, because: when Tim was at boarding school, Jack didn't have any discipline issues with Tim! It clearly worked!; Tim doesn't want to go back to boarding school, making it a threat to hold over him; again, Jack's seeing a kid who is sneaking around, lying, running away and he's at his wits end - there's a narrative in the circles he lives in that such kids DO need to be taught to behave and sending them to boarding school is a way to do that.

He runs hot and cold on paying attention to Tim because up until Tim was 14 that was...what he did! And it wasn't such an issue then, as he wasn't a single parent. And when he pays attention, he does tend to be focused (laser focused, in fact), in getting Tim out of No Man's Land, of the dramas at school during Cry of the Huntress when Jack's getting outraged over Tim's bruises and getting into fights, when he's arguing with Ariana's uncle over whether Tim and Ariana's relationship was going too far.

It's just that he never developed the day to day, in between level of parenting and boundary setting and discipline. He's got a temper, and he swings between "it'll be fine, Tim's a smart kid, I trust him" laid back permissiveness, and getting mad and going immediately to the nuclear option: "You are going back to boarding school!" and so on.

He doesn't know how to walk away and calm himself down when he's worked up. He's not particularly good at redirecting his aggression. And he gets easily frustrated, because in his mind everything went smoothly for years...until it was all his responsibility.

And the thing is, there are so many ways Jack could have tried harder to be a good parent, that were available to him. But because of his background and the culture he lived in and the demands of storytelling he never reached out for any of them.

(And Bruce was right there! They knew each other socially! Everyone knew Bruce had worked through having two teenage sons on his own! He could have asked for advice, and he even knew Bruce knew Tim, given Bruce had officially fostered Tim while Jack was in a coma and in hospital. If you were putting together a specific support group you'd kick yourself over how perfect this was)

It's just such a part of the tragedy of Jack Drake.

#dc meta #jack drake

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1-ker0sene-1 · 8 months

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Would you consider writing for a reader with face blindness and the other ways they have to identify the boys with?

Like whenever they just freshly walk into a room the reader has to stare at them for a moment until they say something or until they spot the part of them they use to identify them, then they get all happy to see them.

I just think it’d be really cute and face blindness is never a disability I see anything for, it lacks a lot of representation but affects a lot of people. Living with face blindness is a serious struggle, because even if someone is family, they’ll always wear the face of a stranger

{I don't mind at all! I did have to do a little research, as I personally was pretty curious at how somebody with this disability sees faces. If I got anything wrong please let me know! ♥️ As always I hope you're having a lovely day anon♥️}

Price

It took John some getting used to. Not that he doesn't try to accommodate, he just often forgets you don't see the way he does. He's so caught up in loving on you, he doesn't really mind whether you see him. So when he's meeting up with you on dates, coming over to sit at the table where you're already waiting for him.

Seeing that pretty face of yours contort into confusion and even a bit of nervousness makes his brows raise.

"I um.. I'm waiting for someone-"

You mumble out to what you assume may be a stranger.

"Are you now Darlin'?"

John chuckles, reaching to hold your hand from across the table. Lifting it to kiss your knuckles, blue eyes softening at you.

"I'm right here."

Gaz

Kyle would get used to it pretty quickly, trying to find ways for you to recognize him easily. Fuck he'll wear a goddamn cat collar if you ask him to. He won't want you to feel bad for it either.

"You don't need to see me lovie.. you know me. You feel me. And you've done a hell of a job loving me."

He mumbles, if you still feel bad- he'll take your hands and place them on his face. Telling you to just close your eyes and feel.

Anytime he sees the confusion starting in your eyes he tilts his head and cheekily tells you.

"The best boyfriend-"

"Kyle!"

He grins when he gets to watch your reaction to him. It's kind of ethereal.. He gets to see in real time the love bloom across your features. It hits him to, just falls for you everytime he sees it.

Soap

Luckily, Johnny can never really sneak up on you, purely cause he can't keep his mouth shut around you. He didn't even know for the longest time before you outright told him of your disability. He always calls out first, with that Scottish accent and slang, he's pretty recognizable. Between his call outs of-

"Bonnie!"

"Aye there's my lass.."

"Where you ofta' hen?"

Followed by being swiftly scooped up or pulled into his arms. You will have to explain the condition, he's gonna ask questions. Not that he has any doubts, he's just incredibly curious at how you see the world. He'll listen to every word as you describe it, holding your hand to his cheek. Your thumb brushes over the scar on his chin.

Ghost

Personally I believe Simon would be the most effortlessly accommodating. As soon as he finds out you have this disability, he finds a pretty good solution in his eyes. His balaclava. Not many wear a skull balaclava in fucking daylight. So often he wears it until you at least see him, just so you don't panic and can somewhat recognize him better. Then he'll slip it off.

There's maybe a couple times he doesn't wear it. Most likely he just forgot, arriving home. His stealth can sometimes be a curse when you can't recognize him. Poor doll. Nearly jumped out of your skin seeing some big guy in the corner of the room.

"Fuck- it's me love- jus' me."

He does feel bad about it. But the way your eyes light at his voice never fails to make him smile. Tugging you into his arms. Mumbling an apology for scaring you as he kisses across your skin.

#cod x reader #disabled reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon ghost x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kero answers

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bamfaholic · 1 month

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From Eden to Sit at Your Door

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Kurt x Reader | 2.8k words

Summary: Kurt visits home, Munich, and decides to sit across from you. With your limited vision, it takes time for you to catch on to who this man really is. Not that you're given much time at all before your life is in danger.

Summary:

You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”

He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”

You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

Alternate summary: Kurt is on a mission, accidentally causes hijinks, and catches feelings for the reader. Even more hijinks ensue.

A/N: this originally was going to be a bullet hc of a blind!reader x Kurt and now it's a multi-part fic lol. The reader will probably turn into an oc but the cringe cop has me in cuffs

This fic has been posted to my AO3 as well! Support me and find my other works there!

On an Autmn morning, you lounged at your local café, just mere blocks from your flat. The wind nipped at the tips of your ears, rustling stray hairs free. You remained warm, though, with your wool coat and cup of peppermint tea in your palms. The harsh difference of the chilling wind and familiar warmth was a part of this routine you cherished. Slowly raising the cup to your lips, a sip warmed you from the inside out.

The workers knew you, knew your name, your story. Practically blind from birth, you couldn’t recall a time when you didn’t have a thick dark vignette frame your vision. Your eyes were often compared to translucent glass marbles, commonly in distaste. Every now and then you were even accused of being a mutant. You always replied with a scoff, wondering if simple biology had been thrown out the window ever since the Mutant Panic in the 70’s.

Though, it piqued your interest in university. You began to dig to see if mutants were similar, or even no different, than those disabled. Unfortunately, the hoops to jump through to acquire a degree with accommodations surmounted and you had to drop out. Your classmate and friend, however, still often visited to read to you scientific papers, and assisted you in writing a thesis in their free time. For now, you resorted to being an author, as you needed to express your ideas with the world.

Which is why you people watched. Each morning you had your cup of tea and watched the quick blurs and bursts of color, sometimes squinting to really focus on a detail. You listened to their words, their stories. It was all ample ammo for your works. You had fallen so lost in concentration, you failed to notice the man sit down at your table. You took a few more sips, savoring the flavors melting over your tongue. There was a flick of a distinct blue, such an unnatural color, that caught your eye.

“Ah, excuse me.” His German was natural, native, and yet there were inklings of an American influence. “I hope you don’t mind me sitting here.”

You turned your body to face him, setting your cup down on the coaster. “No, not at all.” You softly smiled. “It’s not often I have company.”

While odd in nature to encroach a stranger’s space, it didn’t bother you. You figured all the other seats were taken; it was a busy morning after all. If he was not to disturb your peace, then you would pay it no mind.

You scanned him up and down. From what you could tell, he was wearing a coat with a hood, and something a deep rich blue beneath. Lots of blue. He must really enjoy the color. Gears began to turn in your head, perhaps he could be a fountain of inspiration.

“Your eyes,” He began softly, appearing to nibble on a pastry, “I don’t think I’ve seen a color like that before.” His voice was bursting with excitement and curiosity.

You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek. Here we go... You were prepared to recite the speech you’ve given your entire life but decide to keep it short and sweet. “It’s glaucoma, my eyes shouldn’t look like this.”

“Ah, I see.” Another bite. “I apologize, I have never heard of such a condition before.”

You glance down, tracing the lip of your teacup with your fingertip. “Are you American? I hear it in your voice, but your German is perfect.” You decide to change the subject.

He chuckles, “Have I really been gone that long?” He softly mumbles to himself. “No, no I am not. I’m native to here, Munich, but I have been living in the states for some time. New York.”

“New York?” You raise a brow. “That must be so exciting.” A smile pulls at your lips. “I’ve always wanted to see the city, is it as nice as they say?”

Another chuckle, heartier and from his chest this time. “It is far too glamorized. Very dirty, stinky.” He waves a hand. “But the people there… They are truly one of a kind.”

You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”

He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”

You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

You hear his heart beat a little harder, faster. “Ah, thank you!” His cheeriness returns, and you surmise this is this natural state of being.

Now this man really has your attention. You curse yourself for not bringing your notebook. You just simply must engage him in more conversation. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’d love to hear about your time in America, where you plan to go and do while you’re here, back home. I hope it’s not too invasive.”

His tone tells on himself, making it clear he’s excited for someone to be interested in him. “Ah, well, in America I have found family.”

There’s a quick arch of blue that blurs behind his head. You blink. Did you just hallucinate?

“They truly are a gift from God.” He shakes his head. “You asked about my time in America, no? Not my family. Ahem.” He clears his throat and straightens himself in his seat. “I was rescued, in truth, I did not have the best life here in Munich. I used to be in the circus.” A smile slips across his lips as he reminisces. “They called me ‘The Great Nightcrawler.’” He spreads his hands out and open in front of him for added effect. “I was a trapeze artist, a great one.”

You hang onto every word, but bust out a giggle, “I assumed as much, with ‘Great’ being included in ‘The Great Nightcrawler’ and all.”

Kurt stumbles over himself, “Ah, yes- I suppose you are right.” He laughs in turn. “But I flew through the air with ease, to deafening applause.”

“Did you enjoy it? It sounds like you were beloved.” You muse.

“Aye, I did.” A beat passes, and his tone suddenly shifts somber. “Doing a performance, anyway. Any other time… It was not so great, the living conditions.”

Your lips form a tight frown. You won’t push himself to share what could be hurtful. The man links his hands together in front of him on the table. “A cage,” He begins. “I was kept in a cage, like an animal. Fed scraps, if anything. Force-fed beer after shows.” A broken, awkward laugh escapes his chest, “I would suddenly be a drunkard, not even knowing where in God’s Earth I was, then thrown into that harsh cold steel.”

You knit your eyebrows together, chewing the inside of your cheek more. A nervous, unhealthy habit you developed when the gears began to turn in your head. “How?” You squeak out. “How is that possible? How could they do that, isn’t it illegal?”

There’s a great, long pause. The shuffle of the pedestrians that wade by fill your ears. “I am a man of God, friend. I entrust in Him my life, my future. If He wished for me to… Endure that trial, then who am I to question Him.”

His answer left a sour taste in your mouth. He was dodging the issue at hand, you both knew that. You take a sharp inhale through your teeth, fidgeting with the hem of your one sleeve. It wasn’t uncommon to find someone faithful, and you had no gripes against Kurt for being so devout, but you just couldn't accept it being used as an excuse for flat-out abuse.

You open your mouth to press him without much thought, but luckily something else ensnares your attention. About twenty feet down the sidewalk, across the street, you hear the chatter of two policemen.

“There he is.” The one on the left gruffs.

“I see ‘im.” The other spits, “Bloody mutant.”

A mutant? Your heart leaps. Despite your infatuation with them, hungry to know more, you nearly never got to interact with one. You whip your head around, hoping that maybe despite your impaired vision, you could spot them in the crowd. Alas, the only strange figure is… The very man seated across from you.

Your heart now pounds in your ears, adrenaline searing through your veins. “Kurt,” You lower your voice, reaching out to grab his hand. “Please, just, trust me.”

“What?” He laughs, “Is there a joke coming? What is with the sudden seriousness, friend?” But as he sees your expression, his body tenses.

“Just walk with me. Do not look behind us.”

You rise from your seat, pushing it in beneath the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Still gripping his hand firmly, you begin to drag him down the street, blending in with the foot traffic.

“He’s starting to get away!” Your ears burn, hearing the police notice your failure to slip away.

It is only now your heart drops as you realize you have no idea what you are doing. Your guess about Kurt being the mutant is confirmed by the police’s reaction, but you didn’t think this far ahead. Where were you even going? What was the end goal? Walk to the end of the earth, hoping the police never catch up?

“Friend-“ Kurt begins, “What is the matter? What is going on?” His words slam into each other a tad, his breath hitching and increasing. He whips his head around, trying to see whatever had spooked you.

“The police,” You begin in a hiss, “They seem to be after you. I heard it.”

“Heard it?” He’s stunned. “Heard it where?”

You quickly yank him into a tight alleyway, a mere inch separates your chests as you face him. “Shh, watch. Across the street, they’re coming towards us. I’m sure they saw us dip in here.” You’re out of breath as your heart pounds against your ribcage. “I heard them talk about a mutant.”

It’s only now, being so up close and personal, do you truly see Kurt. It’s not that he likes the color blue, he is blue. His eyes are a dazzling gold. Two tiny points threaten to peek out from his lips, little fangs. Your eyes drift down, seeing a tail that ends in a pointed spade. You surmise that must have been the blur of blue from before.

“Y-You’re the mutant.” Your voice trembles, the adrenaline putting strain on your body. The realization of the pleasant fellow you spent your morning with being so… Different. You kick yourself for thinking that way, but it’s only result of the propaganda lining the streets. Your eyes are burning holes into him. You hear the blood rush to his face and ears, heart pounding.

You clutch your cane tighter, leaning into it. It’s not the best for you, as not only do you have Glaucoma, you happen to be blessed with the co-morbidity of Sickle Cell Anemia. Your joints are weaker than a healthy individual, and intense exercise, like running from the cops, is ill-advised. Your head swims as the tachycardia hits you like a tidal wave.

“Ah-“ Kurt raises his hands, hoping it eases your panic. “Aye, I am, but I am a friend. I won’t hurt you-“

Something whizzes by, grazing the bridge of your nose. Screams ring out in the street, pedestrians scrambling in every which way.

“Halt!” One of the officers bark, pointing some form of gun at the two of you. “You are being detained, mutant!”

The other steadily approaches, reaching for something hooked to his belt. Kurt’s eyes glance from the officers to you, and he closes the gap, wrapping his arms around you. “Take a breath, this may be disorienting.”

“Kurt, what-!“ You don’t get to finish, gasping as you feel yourself being hurled at a racing speed. It takes you by such surprise, you lose grip of your cane.

A plume of smoke clouds your vision as the smell of brimstone burns your nostrils. You cough, wobbling on your feet. You were dizzy before, but this was tilt-a-whirl level of topsy-turvy. You try to use your cane to steady yourself, but find that your weight is being supported by nothing at all.

You begin to head face first to what’s beneath you, but you’re caught by Kurt, his arm wrapping around your torso. “Careful there, friend.” He softly says, lifting you up. He refuses to release you until he’s certain you won’t go tumbling.

You blink. You were just in the alleyway, but now you’re peering down the city of Munich. The cops are just below you, and you see one officer ready his gun, aiming right for Kurt.

“Kurt!” You lunge toward him, the shingles of the roof unkind to being stepped on. It begins to slip away, sending you back down with gravity.

Another shot rings out. Kurt snatches you again, by your scruff, but he didn’t foresee the hit landing on you.

A curdling scream is ripped from your lungs, you feel the pierce of a needle in your side. In an instant, it feels cold, like liquid nitrogen being pumped in your veins. You look down, seeing a vial attached to the needle. Without much thought, you reach to grab it. Whatever it is, you want it out.

“No, don’t do that-“ Kurt firmly grasps your wrist. “I’m sorry, friend, but not until I know what they just dosed you with.”

“Dosed?” Your body not only feels frigid, as if you were tossed into a snow storm naked, it’s quickly increasing in mass. Your legs are growing limp.

“Aye.” His jaw locks, his gaze scanning down at the chaos below the two of you. “We must go.” He tosses you over his shoulder and whispers, “I am sorry.”

Another brief burst of frightening motion, another plume of smoke. It feels like being pitched like a baseball at record speeds. Your tea threatens to come back up from your stomach. You groan, rolling your head to the side. It’s strange seeing such familiar buildings from a birds-eye view, but you recognize you’ve moved a few blocks away in an instant.

You suffer a few more rounds of the sickening movement, before it finally ends. You’re in a cold, quiet bell tower. You’ve lost all sense of direction. You could be halfway across the globe for all you knew.

Kurt rests you against the wall, watching as your body slumps. “I am sorry, friend.” You try to move your head up, to hold his gaze, but you can’t. Your arms lay solid on the harsh stone.

Kurt crouches down, moving your coat away to inspect the projectile lodged in your side. “I am so sorry if this hurts. Please let me know.” His voice is so soft, as if he was speaking to a new born. It comforts you. He gently cups the tube in his hand, reading the inscription on the side. “Tch, American.” He spits.

He sighs, forcing a little smile for you. “Good news and bad news, friend.” He gently frees the needle out from you, ripping a pained gasp out of you. “It is just a tranquilizer, you will not die. It also happened to hit your liver, so it will flush out of your system quicker than usual. Bad news, you will be… Like this, for quite some time.”

You can’t even respond. You’re putting all your willpower into focusing on him, keeping your eyes open.

“But fret not, I will keep you safe!” He grins, slipping the tranquilizer into his pocket. “They do not call me the Great Nightcrawler for nothing.” He chuckles, but the worry lines on his face are crisp, even with your vision.

He glances over his shoulder. The chilly air only burns as wind whips across your features. You begin to shiver. When he looks back to you, he scrambles to slip off his coat, draping it on top of you. Underneath, he wears a tight black, red, and white uniform.

Silly, you think, your rational slipping, his circus outfit, here?

“Ah, I am so sorry.” He gently wipes a tear that you hadn’t registered. “You are safe, shh. Rest.” He pats your head.

You gain your senses for a moment, frustration boiling in you. You don’t, can’t, let yourself go. Not here, not now. You blink, again and again, fighting those heavy eyelids.

In astonishment, you watch as Kurt opens your satchel, rummaging around. He pulls out your wallet. Is he… Robbing you? How could he? You grumble in protest, but it falls on deaf ears. He places your wallet back in your bag, laying it gently in your lap.

“Rest easy, friend. I will return, I promise you.”

Smoke swirls in front of you, that now familiar burning smell hits you. The last thing you can recall is noticing a rosary, of all things, resting in your palm. The face of The Messiah watches you as you helplessly black out.

- - - -

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Find the fic here on AO3

Banners by @/cafekitsune

#my works #⚔️#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #x men evolution #xmen #x-men #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #angst #x reader #xmen x #reader #x-men x reader #xmen fanfic #x-men fanfic

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freckliedan · 2 months

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i know TIT shows don't start until next month, but i want to start posting about this early: what covid safety precautions are you guys planning on taking?

this community prides itself on being a welcoming and safe place for neurodivergent and mentally ill fans, which rules! phannies are one of the kindest groups of fans i've known, and that's a lived type of kindness—people act on it, we aren't just talk.

so that's why i'm mentioning this now! there are a lot of physical disabilities that both frequently co-occur with neurodivergence and that make potentially getting covid more dangerous. and covid cases are at an extreme high right now.

it would suck very bad if going to TIT caused people to get sick or die. it would suck if dan and phil got sick from being around us, both because of the impacts on them and because of any potentially cancelled shows.

so how are we going to take care of each other? i have several points of action i'm planning on, but i hope you guys are thinking about it too.

my longer term steps: i still wear a kn-95 every time i leave the house, and i still have not caught covid. even though i know my level of caution has good success rates i am planning on minimizing risky behaviors for the week/two weeks before my show. + i'm up to date on my boosters.

my personal steps day of: i'm planning on using a preventative nasal spray before TIT too; with the nasal spray, i may be comfortable with removing my mask for a picture during my m&g. i might not; i plan on decorating my mask to match my outfit—possibly decorating a cloth mask to wear OVER my kn-95.

i think it would be very cool if we started decorating masks and posting about that the way we've been doing bracelets!

my community-focused steps: i'll be bringing extra masks with me, too, to hand out in case anyone wants them; might have half of those include cat whiskers as decoration. i'm also making this post, and i'm going to talk about it in the discord servers i'm in.

in conclusion.

wearing a mask is an easy way to make us disabled phannies feel safe and cared for and included in this fandom! please consider it even if it's not something you find important in your day to day life. (though it's never too late to start masking for the protection of disabled people in your day to day life, too).

#PLEASE rb. btw #terrible influence tour #dan and phil #phan #daniel howell #amazingphil #phil lester #danisnotonfire #dan howell #jam posts #TIT tour

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the-rest-is-silenc3 · 5 months

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Being visibly developmentally disabled

I've seen some posts going around about being visibly developmentally disabled and I wanted to add my two cents. I think this story sums up a lot about how we are treated.

When I was about 7 or 8, I was in a toy store with my parents. I found a toy piano on a shelf and started playing with it. I have always been very good with music and soon I was playing a melody I'd heard somewhere. I was rocking back and forth and making noises to cope with the environment and because I was happy, and I was also drooling because at that age I was only sometimes able to control it.

So this lady and her two sons come around the corner. They see me, sitting on the floor, rocking, grunting, and drooling, and they look horrified. I heard her whisper something to her two sons, and all I caught was the word "autism." They all look at me and are disgusted, and the lady quickly ushers her boys away as if I'm contagious. This was years and years ago and I still remember how ashamed I felt, even though I didn't know how they could tell I was different. I didn't even know what autism was, but the way the lady said it I could tell it was a bad thing.

They didn't see me as a kid who was good at music having fun with a toy, they saw me as one of THOSE kids, those kids who need to be kept at home away from the normal kids.

Of course, this is a mild example of how developmentally disabled people can be treated, as we are not only ostracized, but also violated, brutalized by police, and even murdered. Being visibly developmentally disabled is tough and I'm glad there's a community on here who understands.

#disability #disabled #autism #autistic #actually autistic #actuallyautistic #developmentally disabled #developmental disability

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tsukimara · 5 months

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𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝 .ᐟ

➸ "Forever together" Masterlist (Important)

➸ A silent voice / Koe no katachi AU

➸ « Text » = Writing !

➸ Warning: Bullying, violence (?), ooc Scaramouche (?)

➸ Art: Cu09291 (On Twitter)

➸ 𐙚PREVIOUS ||𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒|| NEXT 𖹭

➸ Chapter 2

You could feel someone's stare on your back but you decided to ignore it because after all, you were new so you knew that a lot of people would be staring at you.

Scaramouche had his chin resting on his hand, looking at your back. So you can't hear huh? Whatever, he didn't care anyway. He took his book and rolled it into a tube, moved a little closer to you and shouted into the tube.

"Wah!"

Everyone turned their eyes towards you, Scaramouche of course pretending like it wasn't him. You sat there frozen, you didn't expect this, so you turned towards him. Mr. Ragnvindr looked up from the book he was holding and frowned.

"What do you think you're doing Mr. Raiden? We are in the middle of class." — Scaramouche just looked away, crossing his arms. You were still looking at him, but you noticed that the rest of the students were focusing on the lesson again, so you did the same.

"Miss [ Last Name ], do you know the answer?" — You noticed that the girl in front of you with glasses turned towards you and showed you the question Mr. Ragnvindr asked you. You smiled at her as a thanks and started writing your answer in your notebook to show the teacher.

« Dugout shelters »

"That's correct answer. Let's give her a hand."

After class they had PE, Scaramouche was holding the ball waiting for Kazuha to put on his shoes when suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw someone's ball flying towards him so he quickly caught it with his other hand so it wouldn't hit him. He smirked when he saw that the person who threw it at him was Heizou, who was probably complaining that he didn't hit him.

"Are you stupid?" — Heizou asked him, talking about the situation earlier in class — "I just wanted to see how bad her hearing is."

"I don't think it's nice." — Kazuha stated calmly as he finished putting on his shoes and joined them — "I think I can figure it out... You know?"

"How?" — Kazuha glanced at him with curiosity, but he also knew Scara and knew what he was like, so it started to worry him. He hoped he didn't come up with something he would regret.

And so for several days, Scaramouche checked how loud you could hear something. First he started by whispering and when he saw that you didn't react, he checked off level 1. Level 2 and 3 were already louder but you didn't react either, Mona just stared blankly at him as he made his stupid list.

"What are you looking at? Since you're already here, you can try it too." — Scaramouche said to Mona who thought for a moment but finally tried it.

"Wah!" — She shouted but not loud enough for you to hear, at this moment you were enjoying reading your favorite book not knowing what was happening behind your back. Kazuha noticed what was happening and he and Heizou approached the two.

Noticing them, he approached them and pushed Heizou slightly forward — "Do it too!" — Heizou looked at you uncertainly and shook his head causing Scaramouche to call him a chicken. He stepped a little closer to you and screamed loudly, you gripped the book tightly in your hands.

"Mr. Raiden!!"

Mr. Ragnvindr took Scaramouche to the staff room to talk to him — "I realize you've never met a person who is deaf, but you can't make fun of [ Last Name ]'s because of her disability. You hear me?" — Scaramouche just stared at the floor with a grimace.

"I just wanted to know if she really couldn't hear." — Scara explained, trying to somehow alleviate his situation — "Then go about it differently. Ask [ Last Name ] directly."

Directly? Scaramouche didn't like this idea, he didn't like talking to people he didn't know, so how was he supposed to ask you about it directly?

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"Mona."

Mona stopped talking to Sucrose when she heard Scara calling her name. She frowned and looked at him, not knowing what this idiot wanted from her.

"Go talk to her." — Scaramouche pointed at you, sitting in your seat in the classroom, continuing to read your book, wanting to finish it.

"Hey, do you speak Japanese, [ Name ]?" — Mona asked as she leaned her hands on her desk. Sucrose just smiled slightly awkwardly — "Haha... That's not a nice way to put it."

You didn't know what the girls were talking about but you knew it was directed at you so with a small smile you walked up to them with your notebook.

« Could you please repeat that? »

You noticed Mona making a sour face and Sucrose holding her hands, looking elsewhere. You didn't know why they made such faces, so you wanted to write, asking if something happened, but before you did, Mona took your notebook, writing.

« Do you have nickname? » — A nickname? You suspected that wasn't what the girls were talking about, but you shrugged and wrote your nickname.

" [ Nickname ]? Sounds great!"

"Woah!"

"This nickname really suits her!"

Scaramouche just watched the conversation, still not knowing how to talk to you. Should he just talk to you? So what's next? Ask you if you really can't hear? Sounds stupid.

Scaramouche decided to do it when he had a chance to be alone with you, and it happened while he was going to get water because they were having PE now. He noticed you were still putting your shoes on, so he adjusted his hat and stepped a little closer to you, but not too close.

"Hey, uh... Why'd you come to this school anyway?" — You didn't answer anything, but after a while you turned your attention to him, exchanging glances with each other. He noticed you picking up your notebook from the ground.

« Did you say something? »

At this point, Scaramouche panicked a little and walked away from you as quickly as possible, not wanting to talk to you anymore. He started thinking about what an idiot he was for asking you about it. Never mind, it wasn't like he really cared, he didn't want to deal with some weirdo who couldn't hear anyway.

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"Louder, Megistus! How do you expect to get the feelings across like that?" — Mr. Ragnvindr corrected her when she pouted and sat down in her chair, offended.

"Next line: student number fifteen."

Sucrose tapped on your desk so you realized it was your turn, you grabbed your book and stood up to start reading —"Anh doh I gan't waid... noo see gramba again." — While reading, you noticed that a few people started looking at you strangely, so you stopped reading and sat back down.

"Good next. That's you Mr. Raiden."

Mona clenched her hands tightly when she heard this, why did you get praise and she didn't? She whispered a little "Are you serious?"

"Uwah, uwoh. Argle bargle." — Scaramouche mocked you by repeating your speaking style, which made Mona laugh a little but quickly hid it with her hand so as not to draw attention to herself. Some people in the class also started laughing, to which Diluc sighed and decided to take Scaramouche for another conversation in the staff room.

"I know the way [ Last Name ] speaks is unusual but that's no reason to mock her. You hear me?"

"I don't think it's unusual, She's just speaking her mother tongue-" — "Shut up and listen to what I tell you. We're having conversation about morality." — "I don't want-" — "What kind of parent raises an idiot like you?" — "Well-" — "Anyway... There are some things in this world that you just have to deal with."

Scaramouche had already given up on saying anything as he was constantly being interrupted, so he sighed heavily, showing that he didn't like it. Things you have to deal with? Funny.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

« Do you understand what Sensei just said? It would be a big help if you could tell me » — Mona read this as you handed her the notebook, she nodded and started writing down what Mr. Ragnvindr said.

Things you just have to deal with, huh?

"Write down what I'm about to say, kids. Pages 20 to 25. Page 32, chapter 2 practice section and..." — You started looking around, seeing everyone writing except you, you couldn't hear what the teacher was saying, so you looked at your notebook worriedly.

« What is everyone writing down now? »

"What? Again?" — Mona asked, already a little irritated, but eventually she took the notebook from you again and started writing.

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"...So this time I didn't hear what he said." — Mona complained as she walked with Sucrose — "I'll copy it for you later."

Things you have to deal with.

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"Then... [ Last Name]" — Diluc noticed you raised your hand to respond, so he chose you.

"He called on you." — Even though you didn't know what Sucrose said, you guessed that you had been chosen so you started writing quickly so as not to take up much of the others' time, but it didn't help much — "... Sorry, Miss Megistus. Can you tell Miss [ Last Name ] not to raise her hand until after she's written her answer?"

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"I don't see why she has to raise her hand anyway. Doesn't she know how much time she's wasting?"

"I wish she'd get a clue."

"I know what you mean."

Things you have to deal with...

"You know..." — Scaramouche started when he noticed you changing your shoes as he was about to leave. — "At this rate, everyone's gonna get fed up with you." — But when you turned around and handed him the notebook to write down what he said, he panicked a little again — "Wh-what a pain in the butt!"

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

"Now, let's all do our best to prepare for the choir competition!" — Said the music teacher as the lesson started. Everyone lined up to get ready, Kazuha sat down in front of the piano and started playing but he suddenly stopped when he heard that you were the only one who started singing too fast. Mona covered her ears because she was standing behind you and the others looked at you strangely so you stopped. A teacher who was familiar to you but not to the rest suddenly came inside. She took you to the middle of the room and started talking to explain something.

"Hi, I'm Naganohara Yoimiya from the hearing classroom! [ Name ] is a little tone deaf because of her disability."

Mona rested her face against her hand when she heard this — "What're we gonna do about the choir competition?" — Mona mumbled — "Lose?"

"She'll do her best, just like everyone else, so won't you please let her participate in the choir with you?" — Ms. Naganohara continued — "Everyone who thinks that's a good idea, clap your hands!!" — Some people started clapping and some didn't, Mona wanted to win the choir competition so she just crossed her arms looking away when a few hairs fell on her face.

Scaramouche met you again at the exit as you were changing your shoes and when you looked at each other again, he finally managed to gather the strength and snatched the notebook from you when you wanted to give it to him calmly — "Gimme that!" — You waited patiently until he finally stopped writing.

« You're tone deaf, so just pretend like you're singing! »

As you were about to look at him, you noticed he started to walk away, so you just watched him go.

"Choir friggin' stupid anyway!" — He added but then he remembered that you couldn't hear so he started walking faster. You felt someone put their hands on your shoulders, it was Ms. Naganohara.

"Oh, don't pay any attention to him."

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"Where's [ Last Name ]? She was in your group. Why didn't you tell her, Megistus?" — Mona stood up to explain herself — "I didn't notice..." — "No excuses! Listen, you're all at fault here." — Scaramouche just listened to what was happening and he was confused. Were these just another "Just have to deal with" things? Scaramouche looked at the ceiling to think about it a little deeper. But should we?

The time it takes to tell her things.

The delays in class.

Putting up with your bad singing.

"Let's use the three-minute afternoon homeroom period to help [ Name ] and... Learn sign language!" — Ms. Naganohara exclaimed happily, standing in front of the class with you. An hour ago, Yoimiya explained to you what she wanted to do, so you agreed, but when you noticed the faces of your classmates, you started to regret it. Some people didn't know what sign language was so Yoimiya took some chalk and wrote 'sign language'.

"As the name suggests, it is a way to communicate using 'signs,' which are made with the hands. You could say it's a way to talk with your hands!" — Scaramouche knew what sign language is but had never learned it, he was slightly curious about how to communicate with hands but decided not to volunteer.

"Then why don't we start today? [ Name ] will be our teacher for these lessons!" — Suddenly she was interrupted by Mona raising her hand.

"Ms. Naganohara! How will us learning sign language... Help [ Name ]?" — Yoimiya looked at her slightly confused but smiled and started to explain — "Huh? Just like it helps an English person if you speak English, it helps people who cannot hear if you use sign language. That's obvious, right?"

"Can't we just write in her notebook?"

"Well, did you know... It's easier for [ Name ] to communicate through sign language, and she can get her feelings across much better that way as well?"

"Well it's easier for me to communicate through writing."

"Um... Right now, we're talking about how we can all help [ Name ]... Isn't it just that you think learning sign language will be a bother, Mona? It seems to me you're finding a reason to be unhappy..." — Mona frowned, not wanting to argue with teacher anymore, so she sat back down, glaring at Ms. Naganohara.

"Mr. Ragnvindr and I will even learn with you!" — Diluc looked at her confused when he heard this — "Just a moment Ms. Naganohara. You don't know sign language?" — There was a small silence in the classroom and Yoimiya turned her attention to Diluc —"... No I don't... Which is why I thought I would start learning today..." — She said slightly awkwardly as she started scratching the back of her neck.

"You're not embarrassed making the students learn something you don't know yourself?"

There was another silence, Yoimiya was still smiling with her eyes closed but you could see the sweat dripping down her face. Some students even started laughing quietly to themselves.

"Is that... A problem?"

"I can see why Megistus is complaining. No one will go along with this. Why don't we try this again some other time, Ms. Naganohara?" — Yoimiya began to look around frantically to see if anyone would come forward, but all she saw was that the students were whispering to each other until someone finally spoke up.

"I'll learn sign language." — Said a girl with long pale salmon pink hair in a ponytail and also had beautiful light indigo eyes. Suddenly the entire class was quiet, no one was laughing and everyone was paying attention to the girl.

"I'm sorry, what's your name...?" — Yoimiya felt relieved when this girl came forward, she would be grateful to her for the rest of her life — "I'm Sangonomiya Kokomi. Instead of three minutes a day, I'll study an hour and a half a day so no one else has to." — Scaramouche almost choked on the water he drank. What's wrong with this girl?

"And I'll stay with [ Name ] all day long... During classes and between them... If helping [ Name ] is the goal then I think one person will be plenty..." — Yoimiya felt tears of emotion, she felt as if she had just met an angel.

"Mr. Ragnvindr... Isn't class 6-2 wonderful?" — Diluc was about to deny it when suddenly Yoimiya exclaimed happily and threw her hands up.

"Everyone! How about a round of applause for our brave Kokomi?!" — The entire class started clapping for Kokomi who bowed with a smile, thanking everyone. Mona grimaced, but she already had a little plan prepared.

Kokomi started learning sign language with you. She sat down with you and you started helping her study. Kokomi was the sweetest and you liked her the most out of everyone. Not only did she learn sign language with you, but you also wrote about things friends talk about. She wasn't yet perfect in sign language to be able to use it freely, but it wasn't bad either. You were finally happy that you had made such friends with someone.

"Nice job scoring those brownie points, you little suck-up." — Kokomi heard this behind her back. She tried to ignore it but it was hard when the girls, especially Mona, talked about her behind her back.

"What's she trying to show off for? Everyone knows she's stupid."

"And aren't her clothes ugly?"

"Yeah, totally!"

« What's wrong? » — Kokomi looked at your notebook. You saw that something was wrong, she was shaking slightly and her eyes were glassy as if she was about to start crying. You were about to put your hand on her shoulder when she suddenly stood up and started talking something.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I, um... I'm sorry." — Kokomi quickly left the classroom before you could do anything so you looked at your desk worriedly, worried about her. Scaramouche saw Kokomi walking nervously to the bathroom, her hands clutched at her chest.

Guess he figured out... [ Last Name ] [ Name ]'s true identity...

She isn't just an alien raised in a different culture.

She is an intruder sent to bring harm to their class.

Because of her, the choir competition was a total bust...

... Our normal routine was destroyed...

... And Kokomi stopped coming to school.

Scaramouche looked at the chalk in his hand and then at the board.

But is [ Name ] aware of this fact? ... No matter what the method... He must inform her of the truth. And from that day on, Scaramouche decided that he would bully [ Name ] for everything she caused in the classroom, for all the chaos.

"Man, this is really stupid, Scara." — Heizou stated, watching Scara write offensive things on the board with chalk.

"Looks like fun!"

"When you get in trouble, I had nothing to do with this!" — Sucrose said not wanting to get involved and Mona just rolled her eyes — "Let me help!"

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

When you entered the empty classroom to put the flowers on the windowsill, you noticed what was written on the board.

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

˗ˏˋ [ 𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎 ] ˎˊ˗

𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞♡︎

𝚆𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 .ᐟ ּ ֶָ֢.

𝙱𝚠𝚊𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚑

𝚆𝚑𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙶 ??

𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 ♪

𝙻𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚃𝚘𝚗𝚎-𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚏 .ᐟ

𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎

𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚜 .ᐟ.ᐟ

You stood frozen as you read this. You didn't want your class to suffer because of you. Suddenly, Sucrose entered and stood next to you, saying something — "It's awful, isn't it? I mean really..."

"Whoa! What happened to the blackboard?" — Scaramouche entered the classroom along with Kazuha, Heizou and Mona. Scara pretended like he hadn't done it.

"Boy, that is mean. Right Kazu?" — Kazuha felt a little bad doing this, but he sighed and handed Scaramouche the eraser — "Let's erase it for her." — Scaramouche wiped the board with a sponge and tossed it aside — "There. All gone."

Then everyone noticed that you started writing in your notebook and then showed it to them, smiling.

« Thank you, everyone. »

They looked at you surprised when you thanked them. Kazuha was the first to leave the classroom because he felt bad doing it and then the rest followed him, leaving you alone in the classroom.

What was wrong with you? Is that all you got? He thought you would flip out like that! Or cry... Or get pissed off...

Well now, you got his attention! He wanted to know...What will happen to you if he keeps this up.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You felt something fall on you, out of nowhere you were covered in dust and more. You looked up and saw Scaramouche with a dustpan — "Whoa! Sorry [ Name ]! I didn't know you were standing there!"

Mr. Ragnvindr came in and asked Sucrose what happened and she told him everything, so he grabbed Scaramouche by the back of his clothes, pulled him up and led him out of the classroom.

"Say you're sorry."

"I already did! Didn't I [ Name ]?!" — Diluc watched as you cleaned up downstairs, not knowing what was happening above — "Apologize to her later."

"It's such a pain, huh?" — Mona complained as always — "Mr. Ragnvindr! Why can't [ Name ] hear, anyway?" — Sucrose asked curiously and Diluc realized that he had never asked your mother about this or you — "I'll ask her when I get a chance."

"They for sure forgot to paint the sutras on her ears." — Scaramouche mumbled but his friends heard it and started laughing. Then he smirked.

This is it.

When he see a slug, he pour salt on it. When he see a pigeon, he chase it. He throw off ant trails. And doodle on cats.

So he'll pour water on you. Chase you. Throw you off track. And doodle on your stuff.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You were sitting in your chair as usual when suddenly you felt someone take out your hearing aid — "Hey, lemme see this for a minute."

Hearing aids were expensive and you didn't want anything to happen to them, so you quickly looked at what Mona was doing with them — "This is it, right?"

"That's a hearing aid?"

"Then she can hear after all!"

"I know, right?"

"So she doesn't need a special treatment!"

You tried to take your hearing aid back but Mona handed it to Scaramouche who told her to give it to him — "Ew! There's something on it! Sick!" — You just saw Scaramouche throw your hearing aid out the window so you quickly ran to the window trying to find it. But you couldn't. And even if you found it, it would probably be destroyed by the height from which it fell.

A few days later you had your hearing aids back on and Scaramouche noticed this so he forcibly took them out — "Oh hey, she's got another one!" — You felt a lot of pain in your ears as Scaramouche pulled them out. He pulled away from you when he heard you squeal in pain, he didn't want to go that far.

"Whoa!"

"You're gonna get in trouble."

"S-see? I told you to stop it...!"

"Uh-Oh! You went to far, Scara!" — Kazuha said as he tried to help you with the girls — "Let's go to the nurse's office." — Kazu, along with Mona and Sucrose, took you out of the classroom to go to the nurse.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

"I'm telling you! I didn't do it on purpose! I just wanted to see what she had in her ear!" — Scaramouche shouted in anger, he felt his hands squeeze, causing his fingertips to turn white. It wasn't his fault! He just wanted to see.

"I don't care why you did it. Whatever happened, it was your responsibility. All I'm saying is, don't embarrass me." — Diluc stated as he filled out some paperwork and Scaramouche stood behind him with his arms crossed — "Though well... I understand how you feel."

Scaramouche frowned at this but said nothing and then left the staff room, not wanting to listen to his teacher's remarks any longer.

"I don't have to apologize!" — Scaramouche put his hands in his pockets as he walked with Kazuha and Heizou.

"Aww. I wanted to see you say sorry." — Kazuha teased him — "Never."

When they were about to leave, they suddenly saw you approaching them with your notebook in your hands. What were you doing here? Weren't you mad at him or something?

"What do you want?" — Scaramouche said coldly, he didn't want to talk to you, especially what happened earlier. Were you waiting for him? What are you even writing?

« I'm sorry. »

Scaramouche looked at the words in surprise. You apologized? Again? Scaramouche roughly took your notebook from you, which scared you a little. For a moment you just looked at each other.

"Doesn't this piss you off?! C'mon say something!" — He shouted at you, he was fed up with you constantly apologizing and thanking. He wanted you to finally do something! You looked down, not knowing what to do next, and Scaramouche threw the notebook at your face, causing the notebook to fall to the ground.

"I don't think she gets it, Scara." — Kazuha said when you didn't say anything but suddenly you grabbed Scaramouche's hand and he looked first shocked and then disgusted. He didn't like anyone touching him, especially someone he didn't like. He saw how determined your were.

"Wha?!"

➸ 𐙚PREVIOUS ||𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒|| NEXT 𖹭

➸ I'm sorry that you guys waited so long, but I'm sick so I don't even know if I wrote it correctly

➸ I'm wondering whether to write shorter chapters, but then the number of chapters will be more.

➸ My phone froze when I pasted the text 😭

➸ Anyways, have a nice day/night! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

(⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ TAGLIST — @leafyaa , @luvkvni , @sayakaskokofish , @sketcheeee , @featuredtofu , @fallenisded , @skyvella , @mimiemie

Red = I can't tag you

#⁀➴Tsukimara #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #x reader #scaramouche x you #wanderer x you #genshin impact x you #scaramouche x deaf!reader #wanderer x deaf!reader #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin Impact #genshin #⁀➴A silent voice #⁀➴Genshin Impact

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skeletoninthemelonland · 2 months

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Sorry for sending another ask so soon, but-

Don't be shy, spit the frog (italian way to say spill the tea)

I WANNA KNOWWWNWNFNGNG

okay i'm spilling some of the frogs, the tea, I WILL DESEMBUCHAR (word for spilling the truth in portuguese)

springtrap and bell (ballora) do know each other but from a certain distance (he's with the phantoms, and she belongs in the funtime crew). there's never this 'strange feeling' that they've met before because, literally... they never met!

the reason for them to be arguing a lot is due to remnant usage, whose importance is constantly brought up in the universe of BTC. springtrap uses them for his own selfish purposes, while bell is searching for more to help a friend stay active, amongst other reasons that involve the safety and entertainment of backstage residents.

bell is one of the very few bots that has directly confronted springtrap for his actions and usual mean behavior (sometimes on the same level of aggressiveness, other times a single glare is enough). she refuses to stay silent and reality downs on him that the stuff he's saying and doing is harming people.

they are basically the closest thing to human adults in this digitalized city of ghost children, with bell sacrificing a lot more of her time protecting those around her than springtrap (especially before they met)

bell is a chaotic, stubborn altruistic type paired up with self-destructive tendencies as a defense mechanism, considering she is painfully aware of her purpose as a child killing, remnant harvester robot. springtrap contrasts that part of her personality by being aloof, cautious and egocentric, and by pushing others away, acting as if the world revolves around his success in escaping UCN and becoming one with the entity. these contrasting traits often generate conflict, especially later on, when more secrets are revealed.

i like to think they help each other learn from their mistakes with this dumb, tom and jerry beef they have going on, but saying there's any hint of romantic love between them in the beginning feels objectively wrong (considering the amount of times springtrap has said hurtful and otherwise mean things to her).

both are competitive by nature. expect them to be counting how many remnants they caught in a single night.

the more they get to know each other the more they display their true selves, ofc. springtrap has a quieter, observant, genuinely concerned side where he listens instead of talking over people in that loud, cheeky and arrogant tone. bell seems to be a lot more of an anxious and impatient person, thoughts racing at all times and sometimes causing her to shut everyone out. black cat and orange cat behavior, respectively.

they often debate about human nature and the limits of artificial intelligence, and how they, two self-aware small pieces of a larger puzzle stuck in a digital dimension, fit inside these two labels. both are detached from either concepts, meanings losing importance the further they investigate. still, that doesn't stop them from displaying unwavering support whenever one is lost and afraid (works for both).

hand on shoulder, "are you alright?" glances, lending his cape, handmade gifts and favors. springtrap doesn't know how to be comforting, but he makes an effort.

he's more comfortable being secretive and working behind the curtains. events like claw machines suddenly functioning again, entire stages being repaired in a single night, random input of remnants in the electrical system, abandoned areas appearing tidy and organized... (they still wonder who's behind it all...)

when bell first showed up at the workshop for a simple repairs session, he took off her illusion disks and disabled the part of her programming that submitted to William Afton's orders. with that, the entity lost influence over her actions, and as a consequential effect, her eyes glow a bright yellow color, instead of the usual pink/purple hue.

compliments (lots of them), getting excited over the other's achievements, eagerly asking about their favorite topics. bell is that "saw this meme and thought of you" type of person.

scolding. both scold each other all the time. scolding as in "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING" and "oh wow that's the greatest idea you've ever had. i'm surprised we aren't dead because of your absolute GENIUS of a plan (/loudly sarcastic)"

#inbox #PHEW #behind the codes #starbstalks

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heliza24 · 3 months

Text

So I think we should talk about the Holocaust imagery in the trial

Because it was really powerful, and part of what made the episode so impactful. It’s no accident that the writers set this part of the story in a city still scarred by WWII. The vampire trial is a twisted funhouse mirror of the actual atrocities of the war, and thinking of it that way helps illuminate its cruelty. It also helps name the specific undercurrents of that cruelty– the ableism, the racism, and the way in which the coven vampires view themselves as superior.

The whole idea of the trial as a play, where Claudia, Madeleine, and Louis are merely props, made me think of the plays that were put on at the Buchenwald concentration camp. The prisoners there were forced to produce theatre as a way to convince the outside world that the Nazis were treating people “humanely”. This farce of course gave the Nazis cover to continue committing horrible acts. The coven is forcing Claudia, Madeleine, and Louis to put on their play, and they’re doing it in a way that will allow the human audience to excuse the prisoners’ suffering as fake. And that gives the coven the freedom to enact as much cruelty on their prisoners as they would like. And of course being forced to perform, being embarrassed, is also a part of the punishment.

The way that Louis, Claudia and Madeleine were snatched out of what they believed to be a happy and peaceful life and transported straight into a nightmare also makes me think about Kristallnacht in some ways. I am half Jewish, and the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors. My grandmother was arrested during Kristallnacht. So I have a lot of personal family history that colors the way that I view this part of the show.

I’m also disabled, and I’ve already written a bit about how this show approaches eugenics. I was actually really happy to see the eugenics undertones made explicit during the trial, as it left no room for doubt about the connection between the great vampire laws and Nazi eugenics rhetoric. “The Dark gifts must never be given to the crippled, the maimed, or to children” was displayed prominently as part of the projections. Claudia has always been coded as disabled because her body is “wrong” and “weak” (written about so well in this meta by @once-delight) but her status as a disabled person was stated plainly as part of the text in this episode, both when Lestat says he “told Louis. Fourteen forever. She’ll be a cripple” and when Santiago says that “Claudia’s defect caught up with her” when she started committing her killing spree in New Orleans. It cannot be understated how much Claudia’s status as disabled person influences the coven’s desire to murder her. The fact that she is happy, strong, and loved despite being turned so young is a direct violation of the coven’s world view, and is therefore a challenge that needs to be put down. Around 250,000 disabled people were killed during the Holocaust, and that’s not to mention the forced sterilization done to disabled people and the cruel experiments that were done in concentration camps to prisoners without their consent. Crucially, the idea of eliminating disabled people and perfecting a humanity without “defects” was an essential part of the Nazi philosophy. And I think you can see that echoing through the vampire trial as well.

Obviously another way that the Nazis were trying to create a perfect humanity was through the elimination of anyone who was not the correct race. We don’t have any canon Jewish characters in IwtV, so we don’t have a one to one comparison to history in that way. But race absolutely plays a huge role in the trial. It does not feel accidental that two of the three prisoners are Black, and that the “star witness” (however coerced Lestat may be, the adoration that the coven shows him is real) is blond and blue eyed. The way Santiago describes Lestat, as having “ancient blood in his veins” and a “godlike strength” calls to mind the Nazi belief in perfecting bloodlines and creating an Übermensch- the perfect Aryan man. And although Madeleine is still executed, she is treated more gently by the coven, kept in a fog of hypnosis and given the opportunity to escape death. I can’t help but think that she was given those privileges at least in part because she is white. This also puts Armand in an interesting position, and maybe helps explain at least some of his motivation in collaborating with the coven. He’s not Black, but he is a person of color, and that may add some legitimacy to his fears that the coven may turn on him. (There’s also the interesting fact that earlier on in the show, Nicki calls him a slur used against Romani people. Armand is not Romani, he left India long after the Romani people migrated to Europe. But it’s interesting that in seeking to place his brownness, native Europeans default to describing him as Romani, since the Romani were also one of the main targets of the Nazis). Obviously there is a lot of hidden calculus going into Armand’s decisions here. But I do think it’s interesting to add race to that equation. I do hope fans of color will write more about the racial dynamics of the trial, since I am white and would love to learn more about this aspect of the story from them.

I’m still mulling over what I think about the part of the episode where Lestat embarrasses the homophobic heckler in the crowd, but it did serve to remind us of how marginalized all of the main relationships would have been at the time (queer people: another target of the Nazis) and how fresh the horrors of WWII are on everyone’s minds.

The absolute highlight of the episode for me was Madeleine’s decision to choose dying with Claudia over living without her. This is such an incredible conclusion for a character who began her arc as something of a Nazi collaborator. I know some fans were troubled by this aspect of Madeleine’s character, but it never bothered me, even with my own personal connection to the Holocaust. Madeleine’s will to survive, her outcast status, and her willingness to cling on to love, even if it isn’t morally pure, made her the perfect match for Claudia. And this episode showed us the payoff of that setup. Here she is given the chance to collaborate again, to move towards the acceptance and love of horrible people that will allow her to survive. But now that she’s tasted real love with Claudia, she can’t go back to that way of living. She can’t throw her lot in with the Nazis again. So she puts Claudia first, the first and only person to ever do that. Everytime I think about it I start crying again.

Ultimately it was the last image of the episode that really hammered home the Holocaust parallels for me. Claudia, reduced to ash. Claudia, reduced to her yellow dress. Just like the incinerated victims of the Holocaust. Just like the piles of shoes and other personal effects at the Holocaust museum. We don’t get Claudia’s final words to Madeleine, or the final words of thousands of real life victims. We just get the dress, we just get the shoes. We have Anne Frank’s diaries, just like we have Claudia’s. Two girls that will forever be trapped in teenagerhood. But those diaries end before the camps, just like Claudia’s end before the trial.

I’m not sure if either of the writers of this episode are Jewish, but from the behind the scenes clips I know that Hannah Moskovitch was on set as they were filming this episode in a producer role. She talks a lot about giving Claudia a chance to be defiant and angry, and as @bluedalahorse pointed out to me, that’s a very Jewish way to respond to oppression and tragedy (Hannah is half Jewish just like me). Claudia does not go gently into that good night, and I’m really grateful for that. As we go forward I’m going to try to remember her fight, and not the final image of the ash and the dress, as I think about her.

#iwtv #interview with the vampire #madeleine #claudia #my meta

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