#she's deaf also

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2024

July 6th Prompt: Dizzy

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 7

@steddie-week

Steve stands up, and that’s where it all goes wrong.

His intent was to grab more drinks from the fridge, but when he stood, he blinked a few times. “Whoa,” he murmurs.

“Steve?” Robin asks. She sounds like she’s at the end of a long tunnel.

“Steve?” Eddie asks. He sounds closer, but not as close as he should.

“‘M fine,” he says, “jus’ dizzy.”

Then he’s waking up in the hospital. “What,” he asks, then doesn’t complete the thought because Robin and Eddie are both standing over him, one on each side, holding each of his hands, and he’d feel so much love if he could feel anything besides general panic because- “I can’t hear you,” he says, breathing picking up. “I can’t- please, I- I need-”

Eddie shuts up, staring at him with wide eyes, and after a second of hesitation, places Steve’s hand, palm down, on his chest. He takes deep, purposeful breaths, and Steve can feel his hand moving, feel the breaths, feel his heartbeat-

He takes a breath. Another. Another. By that time, Nancy had gotten a doctor.

Later, he’ll learn this is something they’d been watching for, but couldn’t be sure of until he woke up. Later, he’ll learn that Eddie lays awake at night, sometimes, hearing the sound Robin makes.

All he knows right now is how to keep breathing, how to keep holding Robin’s hand, how to believe he’ll be okay, because he has to.

He has to.

He stays with Eddie upon his release, because they’re together most days anyways, and it’s a certain kind of torture on Steve’s heart because Eddie’s started carrying around a notebook and a pen just to write to Steve whatever he was gonna say, and Steve doesn’t think he could love another person more than he did, but here’s the proof, apparently.

They’re sharing a bed, because Wayne had previously called their couch “older than Jesus,” and Steve lasted for all of an hour on it before slipping into Eddie’s room.

The good thing about sharing a room is it helps curb the nightmares for a time.

Eventually, though, they come back with a vengeance.

Steve’s laying in bed, like he does every night, when he rolls over to face Eddie. “Eddie?” He asks. Eddie’s always last to sleep, so Steve’s not hesitant about asking, except Eddie doesn’t answer.

“Eddie?” He asks again, jostling Eddie’s shoulder a bit.

Suddenly he shoots up in the air, and Steve bites back a yell.

Suddenly there’s a voice that sounds like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating off the corners of the room, echoing louder and louder. You took everything from me. Eddie’s arms snap, and Steve yells, scrambles up, music, except what’s his favorite song—that puppet one, metal, come on brain, think—but there’s nothing here but country, bluegrass, stuff Wayne likes, and Steve turns to watch the blood drain from Eddie’s face as another gristly crunch echoes, louder than anything so far. So I’ll take everything from you!

Something reaches out for him, grabs his shoulder, and he yells, twists around, pushes away, hard enough he falls on the ground. He opens his eyes to see Eddie on his bed, Steve sitting just off it, eyes wide and hand reaching to help, stalled halfway. Illuminated by the lamp, too, which wasn’t on half a second ago.

Steve blinks at him, looks at the room. No floating Eddie in the middle of it.

“Dream?” He asks. Eddie nods. He stifles the sob and practically launches himself onto the bed, into Eddie’s arms, lets himself shake apart because he can.

Eventually he feels reverberating in Eddie’s chest that he knows means words, means speaking, so he looks up at Eddie, who’s looking at the door.

He turns to look, too, and sees Wayne. “S-sorry,” he tries, still sniffling.

Wayne shakes his head at him, walks into the room, sits on the edge of the bed. Offers his arms out in a hug.

Steve thought he was done crying. Trust Wayne to prove him wrong, because he’s tearing up all over again as he leans into Wayne.

His new position means he can see Eddie, who points at him, makes a talking motion with his hand, then points at himself and Wayne. Steve frowns. “You… want me to tell you?”

Eddie points at Steve again, insistently, and Steve understands: your choice.

“I can,” he agrees. “We were in bed and I was tryin’a talk to you, but you didn’t answer, and I kept trying to get your attention, but suddenly you- you were up in the air, and your arms and legs broke, and a voice—it was Vecna, I didn’t recognize it in the dream—said I’d taken everything from him so he was gonna take everything from me. And I was trying to find music, but I couldn’t remember the name of your favorite song, and the only stuff in here was Wayne’s stuff, country and bluegrass and stuff like that, and…” he sighs out a broken sob. “I couldn’t save you.”

Eddie reaches for his hand, but suddenly that’s not enough, he needs to be able to feel his heartbeat, have his breathing move Steve’s hand, so he tips over into Eddie again, gets his hand on his chest and his face in the side of his neck.

Eddie says something, but before Steve can move Wayne’s got a comforting hand on his back. He removes it after a minute, and Steve can feel the shift in the bed of him getting up, but before he can mourn the loss, Eddie’s got his arms wrapped around Steve as he carefully lowers them back down. He rubs a hand up and down Steve’s spine, slips the other into Steve’s hair.

Steve falls asleep like that.

He wakes up in almost the same position. He tries to apologize, but Eddie waves him off, hands him some clothes and points to the bathroom before pointing to himself and miming cooking.

Steve’s heart clenches at the thought. “Okay,” he whispers.

Robin comes over later, and they sit on the front steps as he recounts what had happened. “He’s just so sweet,” he sighs. “And I’m an idiot who’s letting my heart get involved.”

Robin wraps an arm around his shoulders and kisses his temple. It doesn’t help as much as he’d hoped it would, but he appreciates the gesture anyways.

Later she leaves, and Eddie pulls out his dedicated Steve Notebook.

I’ve got a friend in Indy who knows sign language. I could give her a call, if you want? He writes, and again Steve’s all but overcome with love for this man.

Instead of anything he wants to do, he just nods. Eddie grins and hops up to use the phone.

He’s back in a couple of minutes, collapses onto the couch with the notebook before furiously scribbling and handing it to Steve.

I spoke to my friend. She says sorry and it sucks, first of all. Steve snorts and nods. She’s willing to talk to you, get you started, maybe even get you some books. Does tomorrow work?

Steve gapes up at Eddie. “Tomorrow?”

Eddie nods and grins, then points at Steve in a gesture Steve knows has come to mean you decide.

“That would be great,” he says. “Seriously, I- thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie waves him off, but Steve can see the happy little blush on his cheeks.

They head out the next day. It’s probably twenty minutes into the drive, and even with Eddie sitting next to him in the driver’s seat, it feels lonely. He never realized how much he’d miss the sound of tires on asphalt. He wasn’t ever truly into music, like Eddie is, but he misses the radio. He misses the wind rushing past, the silence that’s possible to share when both people can hear-

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Eddie’s pulled over, a hand on his cheek and a concerned expression on his face. “Sorry,” he tries. Eddie shakes his head, presses his palm more firmly to Steve’s cheek. “Fuck,” he mutters. “‘S stupid. Just… felt alone. I dunno. There’s, like, a million little things you hear every day that you don’t think about, like the way your hands tap the steering wheel when you turn, or the way your clothes shift and rub against each other, and it’s all silent now, and there’s not even music, and-” he takes a deep, shaky breath. Lets it out as evenly as he can. “I just… felt really alone all of a sudden.”

Eddie brushes his thumb along Steve’s cheekbone as he thinks. Suddenly, he grins and moves his hand, shoving a tape into the deck and cranking the sound. He demonstratively puts his hand on the door. Steve laughs and does the same, gasping when he feels the vibrations of the song move through him. He can’t tell notes, but it’s something, and then Eddie carefully reaches for his hand, keeps his grip relaxed until Steve smiles at him and tightens his own fingers around Eddie’s. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Eddie smiles, nods, and gets back on the road.

They arrive at his friend’s apartment in no time, and Steve would be jealous at the length of the hug if Eddie didn’t immediately step back to grab Steve’s hand again. Based on his hand motions, he’s introducing Steve.

She asks Eddie something, and he turns bright red, pulling a strand of hair across his face as he glances at Steve before looking back at her and answering.

She invites them in, scribbles on a little chalkboard, and hands it to Steve with a smile. Hi, Steve! My name is Nicole. It’s nice to meet you.

He grins up at her. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

She takes the chalkboard back, scribbles something else. Eddie tells me you recently lost your hearing. Do you mind me asking about that?

“Not at all,” Steve says, then frowns, somehow just now realizing he doesn’t know the full extent of what happened. “Honestly, all I know is I stood up and got really dizzy, and then I was waking up in the hospital.” He shrugs. “I’ve had a couple of pretty bad concussions, and I guess whatever made me pass out also just… took my hearing.” He shrugs.

Eddie shakes his head, grabs for the chalkboard. Almost. He bites his lip. You passed out, and I wasn’t fast enough. You hit your head on the floor. He looks away, takes a deep breath. I’m sorry.

“That is not your fault, Eds,” Steve tells him firmly. Eddie won’t look him in the eyes, so Steve grabs his chin. “Hey, look at me. Not your fault. I don’t blame you. Okay?”

Eddie shrugs, pointing to himself with a self-deprecating smile, and Steve knows what he’s trying to say. I do.

“Well I don’t,” Steve says. “But if- if you need to hear it. I forgive you, okay?”

Eddie nods, eyes big and wet, and Steve pulls him into a hug.

Eddie suddenly laughs, pulling away to wipe his eyes before saying something to Nicole.

Right. They’re not alone. “Sorry,” he tells her, but she waves him off, handing over the chalkboard again. I think we’ll start on the alphabet today. That way you can at least finger spell what you need, even if it’s slow.

“Sounds good,” he says, and she nods, talking the chalkboard to write the alphabet.

Slowly but surely, she teaches Steve and Eddie the alphabet. They get a little tripped up on some of the letters, most noticeably p and q, until Nicole takes pity on them and makes a p. She uses her other hand to draw a line down both her extended fingers, then tracing her own legs. She taps her thumb, peeking out between the two, and with a mischievous grin, points between Steve and Eddie’s legs.

They share a look and burst out laughing, but they don’t forget those letters again.

By the end of the day, they’ve gotten through the alphabet with enough regularity that Nicole feels they can practice on each other.

Steve pauses before they leave. T-h-a-n-k, then a pause, then y-o-u.

Nicole smiles, presses her fingertips to her lips, then brings her hand down to chest height, palm up. She does the motion again, and Steve copies her, grinning when she nods excitedly.

“Thank you,” he signs and says, grinning even wider when she pulls him into a quick hug before waving at him and Eddie.

They wave back and pile into the van, Steve’s hand in Eddie’s before Steve can practically blink. He smiles, unbearably fond, and squeezes to get his attention before signing, “Thank you.”

Eddie just smiles back, throws the van into reverse, and starts home. 

They practice more while they make dinner, throwing words like spatula and stir and chop around, and Steve didn’t realize learning could be this fun.

He’s watching Eddie stir the broth, hips moving in a little dance to a song only Eddie knows, and his heart is so full, he has to say something before his heart bursts. “I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound incredibly sappy,” he says. “But just… please just listen until the end? And try not to tease me too much.”

Eddie just smiles, grabs his hand and squeezes, and Steve takes a breath before starting.

“I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad you were there that day, I’m glad you were there when I woke up at the hospital, I’m glad you were there when I realized going home meant being completely alone. I’m glad you made a complete fool of yourself in the hospital lobby, doing charades to let me know I could stay here.” He takes a breath. “I’m glad you have Nicole, because it lets me talk with you easier. I’m glad you never once let me feel like I’m alone, or like I’m going through this alone. I’m glad you’re learning with me. I’m glad you’re making this fun. I didn’t know learning could be fun, but it is with you, and I-” he takes a breath, swallows the three words that want to come out. “I’m glad it’s you,” Steve whispers, “here, at the end of all things.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Eddie’s hands are cradling his cheeks, wiping away tears. Eddie’s just as teary-eyed, though, and he pulls away, looking for the notebook. Please don’t punch me.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed, to watch Eddie spell something. I l-o-v-

That’s as far as he gets before Steve gasps, understanding, or hoping he understands, and pulls Eddie into a kiss.

He pulls back almost immediately to check that’s correct, that that is what Eddie was trying to say, when Eddie pulls him back in, dinner be damned, crowding him in against the counter and doing his best to lick into Steve’s mouth.

Steve lets him, pulling away for a sharp inhale before diving right back in, fingers tight in Eddie’s hair and the back of his shirt, and there’s a sudden vibration that he just knows means Eddie moans, and suddenly he’s dizzy again, but this time he welcomes it, because this time he’s not passing out; this time, he’s dizzy because he’s drunk on love.

[judesstfrancis]

makes me crazy when queer people specifically think the shape of water was too weird of a film. like that's you, actually. both historically and explicitly. that is supposed to be you. historically, queer people have only been able to be portrayed in film as villains or monsters. the dracula the swamp monster the fish man that is YOU. explicitly in the movie the fish man is a stand in for people who are Other. that's why the first woman to care for him is a mute woman who has been ostracized by everyone EXCEPT FOR other people who have been othered in society mainly octavia spencer and her gay roommate whose names I forget currently. and that's why the minority characters in that film are trying to help elisa and the fishman escape the government and live happily ever after. bc they are the same. he is them. tell me u get that

[saturnvs]

tried out my new watercolors! i had to paint the 30 year old horse i saw at the stable where i have my therapy, she was so sweet (and ancient looking)

[myokk]

1930s AU continued💓💓

[read-write-thrive]

there are all of 6 fics on ao3 that come up when you search the word “disabled” in the dead boy detectives fandom. I’m dealing with a fibromyalgia flare up rn so I’ve decided to come up with some (potential!) disability/condition/syndrome/etc. headcanons. enjoy!

(oh and just to note: I stayed away from conditions with obvious facial / appearance difference as no actors with facial / appearance difference were cast in the show and I was unsure if it would be appropriate. while I have experience with a lot of the following diagnoses, I do not claim to be an expert on any of them and do not intend for this to be used as a diagnostic tool. if you feel any of these are offensive/inappropriate, please message me and I’m happy to talk about it :) this is more just to encourage broader disability representation within the fandom!)

Edwin: autistic, PTSD (from hell), chronic pain/fibromyalgia (from his death/hell), minor visual impairment (not enough to need the hard-to-come-by testing needed for glasses when he was alive and so assumed the various limits/effects were normal. was told otherwise by Niko), would’ve had shingles if lived long enough

Charles: ADHD, PTSD (from his father/growing up in an abusive household), dyslexia, Reynaud’s syndrome (either already born with it or as a result of his death—both angsty), was in the beginning stages of an ED prior to his death, post-concussion syndrome, near-sightedness (never given glasses bc he wasn’t about to tell his dad the board looked a little blurry sometimes)

Crystal: cPTSD (reminder that neglect is also abuse :), bipolar 1, IBS, endometriosis

Niko: autism, depression, POTS, hEDS, anxiety, sprite-induced agoraphobia, epilepsy, lactose intolerance

Monty: Depersonalization-derealization disorder, selective amnesia (this is not the first times Esther has messed with his form/killed and revived him, but the experience is traumatic and so his brain decides not to remember it), recurrent arrhythmia, synesthesia

Jenny: OCD, BPD, ED recovered, Celiac’s disease, diabetes type 1, anemia

TCK: autism, NPD, lactose intolerance, colourblind

Esther: chronic pain (I’m choosing to believe that the cane isn’t just for show!!), NPD, endometriosis

Tragic Mick: cPTSD, depression, HoH, arthritis, diabetes

(The Night Nurse , the Dandelion Sprites, and various other characters felt either too supernatural and/or not developed enough to assign anything to lmao)

[blood-starved-beast]

how would you interpret Maria hugging hunter in her visceral? i always thought of it as some sort of mockery from her

Sort of, but in the way that her whole fight is sort of a "mockery" of the concept of a dashing Heroic romance (In the Shakespearean sense of the term). Let me explain.

First, we have to understand Maria's character design in that she is of the bifauxnen archetype. The bifauxnen is a handsome, gentleman-ly type woman portraying all the traits we associate with a dashing hero: courageous, refined and sometimes aristocratic, and androgynous. She is the counterpart to the bishonen, the contrast to the more coarse Lad-ette. The most famous of this archetype of course is Lady Oscar from Rose of Versailles. She is essentially a Female Prince.

The Lady Maria reflects this design. Out of all the Hunters and Byrgenwerth crew, she is the one dressed to the Nines, wearing dashing Cainhurst fashion to something that is essentially nasty and wet and all the other things (the Hunt). She's wearing jewelry (the Lumenflower brooch) the cravat, the fact she curls her hair, the aristocratic looks and backstory (the fact that she's the Lady Maria, a Knight of Cainhurst Vileblood royalty), the fact that she was the one taking care of the Research patients and they worship her, etc. Her outfit fits along the lines of the Lady Oscars, Alucards, and so forth. The fact that she is the only one to realize the atrocity of her actions, to regret her actions and reject her calling as a Hunter, is so fucking introspective at the cost of noticing Gehrman's mania for example reads very much in line of a Romantic hero. She is presenting a Look and this Look says she is meant to come off as rich, handsome, and heroic as she's slaying monsters. At least, those are the visual cues the player is meant to read in that sense. And that is carried over into her actions.

Lady Maria fights the Hunter to "liberate [them] from [their] wild curiosity" - she is taking the role again, of the hero. The villain here, being that need for Insight and she is saving the Hunter from the call of blood. She then engages you a fight, a dance really, set to waltz - again, playing with those romantic hero tropes (assuming you don't parry her to death). The visceral attack therefore, plays into that fantasy. She treats you so gently cause of course you are the Victim enslaved by your thirst for knowledge, she is the romantic hero, mercy killing you with the sweet kiss of death. She steadies you as your now heartless body bleeds out onto the floorboards of the clocktower.

But like everything in Bloodborne, there is a catch you see. Cause the Lady Maria is not a hero in fact; she is a bloody coward.

Yes, Maria is the only member of the Byrgenwerth crew (and amongst the few Hunter in general) to make a dry stop + u-turn from the Hunt and the atrocities associated with that. But unlike someone like Djura, who at least is trying to be productive in his redemption, Maria runs from her mistakes. She casts Rakuyo into the Well and leaves. She joins the Research Hall and contributes to more atrocities there, but hey at least all the patients there love her right?? (😬) And when her brooding (or maybe insanity? who says she was immune to the Beast plague? Or Kos infecting her brain??) was too much for her, she takes her own life instead of you know, working to dismantle the systems - both the Research Hall and the Hunt itself. Her issues and her guilt - that is more important to her than actually helping or saving people. She the Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower, Lord over nothing else but the reminder of her greatest failure. Both in life and in death.

Cause you see, her stopping the Hunter isn't really about saving them from their wild curiosity. The Fishing Hamlet is dead and gone. The effects are echoing throughout all of Yharnam in this day and age. Heck, the Hunter just came in from the Research Hall itself. It is well and truly Known, to prevent future atrocities of that scale, one has to know the events that led to those atrocities in the First Place. Lady Maria isn't helping you, isn't saving you from anything you already knew to begin with. She is, once again, trying to alleviate her own guilt and shame and trying to prevent others of knowing of that shame. So she tries to kill you. But you know, in a Heroic way. Hence why the whole fight is a sham and mockery.

She also hates your guts. I consider this to be tertiary canon at best, but the deleted lines has it so that she calls you insufferable, and baits you to kill her. She Does Not Actually Give a Shit About You. It cannot be more blatant than that. And how couldn't she? You make her recall her greatest shame, force her to break the last of her principles (no Vilebloodbending) so that your ass does not learn of what she's done. You also keep coming back, so you're a constant reminder that no matter what she does, her actions really do mean nothing, not before, and definitely not now.

Also she stares at you like this the whole fight if looks could kill well, you would be dead and not coming back (The way you ought to. Bastard. Stay dead already!! - Lady Maria, probably):

So yeah, she is mocking you with a oh so sweet kiss from the Handsome Hero type as she rips your heart out (breaking it) and kills you very dead. Cause fuck the Hunter specifically.

[demadogs]

ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE

(2023) Dir. Shawn Levy

[gingermintpepper]

Day 5: Orpheus

Interpretation notes and trivia under the cut!

Orfeu meu amor <333 Honestly this could be my longest ever set of notes or the shortest because unlike literally any of the other Apollonian figures in this, I have never once had to waver from what I wanted with Orpheus and that's an Orpheus without Eurydice. I know that sounds kind of strange, Orpheus and Eurydice have always been completely synonymous with each other but like, Orpheus is kind of completely batshit as a concept and I'm tired of pretending the most interesting thing about him is his love life?? His love life is cool, don't get me wrong, but we, collectively, as a group of people don't pay nearly enough attention to the fact that Orpheus was singer and musician so gifted that he made trees and rocks bow to him and he could stir even the gods to grieve from his songs. This is the guy who's song was so beautiful that not only did he outsing the Sirens, they also killed themselves upon hearing his song?? This is the man that was pulled apart but his head just?? Kept on singing??? So the Muses just???? Added his perpetually singing decapitated head to their choir??? There are depictions of Apollo using said decapitated head to help him teach people???? And we're gonna focus on him trying to get his dead wife back?????? Really?? Miss me with that nonsense, Orpheus is the witchest witch to ever witch and if no one else is gonna make him the disgustingly powerful bard he was in myth then I guess I'll have to do it myself. His femme appearance is mostly inspired by the highly ornamental raiment of kithara players and he consistently has some of the fanciest clothes of the cast apocalyptic hellscape be damned.

Some assorted trivia:

Son of Apollo and Calliope - was accidentally conceived during the period when Artemis had forbid Apollo from fraternising with mortal creatures in penance for him orchestrating Orion's death and so Calliope and the other Muses hid him away in the court of King Oeagrus. Didn't know Apollo was actually his father until quite a bit later.

Not a demigod as that would imply he's half human. Orpheus isn't exactly mortal either but he certainly cannot be harmed by most normal methods. There's no formal name for something half god, half muse and not deathless so Orpheus prefers to identify as the Son of a Muse rather identifying strongly as something strictly divine.

Older than Heracles! One of Apollo's oldest children still kicking about, actually, but he's treated like the youngest due to how fragile he'd been after Eurydice's death. Is generally better now than he used to be, but still tends to have depressive episodes every now and again.

Horrifyingly powerful. Orpheus' words are so potent that he does his best to not speak at all for fear of influencing the people around him accidentally. Has the uncanny ability to transmit his own feelings through his songs which can be both fantastic and awful. The Twelve had Apollo put a seal on his tongue when he was grieving so his song would stop completely disrupting the world. The seal's since been removed as Orpheus has had a lot of help working through his feelings. Now he paints whenever he thinks about Eurydice which is much more productive for everyone involved.

Argonaut, storied traveller, speaker of many languages, healer, teacher and storyteller. Teaches occasionally at the Parnassus Institute for Gifted Children and tends to be a favoured teacher whenever he drops by. Is responsible for a lot of very important people knowing some form signed or gestured language.

Has no set 'home' and wanders from temple to temple, sanctuary to sanctuary. His worldly belongings like his clothes and old paintings are currently with Asclepius and his family. Apollo has some of his stuff as well, but they're mostly special instruments like the holy lyre he used on his journey on the Argo.

Never keeps any money on him and is usually fed and clothed by the townspeople wherever he goes. Hasn't had to actually pay for something in decades. Has absolutely no concept of money because he'd forgotten it's a thing people need day to day.

Had a brief fling with Heracles while he was still mortal and the two remain on good terms even now. Heracles tends to visit him every now and again for a stint in some springs and good music.

Favourite colour is maple orange, favourite food is roasted pheasant with rosemary and thyme. Allergic to specifically pale yellow mead but is fine with raw honey and honeycomb. Aristaeus has been trying to figure out what causes his reactions for years now.

[thesinglesock]

wait the kid is using signs?? Is she Deaf? Like actually?? I that didn't even cross my mind so I didn't pay attention to it but I don't think anything contradicts it? In the scene she's in now she sure is using her eyes like she's Deaf. Only nodding ot shaking her head at things Jinx say when she's Actively Looking at her close up (reading lips?). She seems kinda unsure about her answers too like you would if you only pick up a few words here and there??

post-episode edit: prooobably not?? but then again could be! Kids are smart, she could probably figure out what's going on without hearing the dialogue. also her one act of vandalism so far is destroying the audio-message on a speaker. which is very Deaf Activism of her

[artharakka]

"I didn't think anyone would come for me."

"I was always coming for you. Only for you."

[gmanmedias]

day 4: make a board based off of a headcanon that brings you joy!

🧡 🧡 🧡

🤍 🤍 🤍

💙 💙 💙

[necrotic-nephilim]

after seeing the poll about who in the batfam could be Deaf, I am now obsessed with how the masks could affect their sign. If they use their signing space differently when in the vigilante persona or not. Signing is so distinctive to each person that the code switching they do would be interesting to see play out in their ASL. Also thinking about what family signs the family would use to refer to batshit things in their lives. q

YEAH YOU GET IT.

(the poll in question) i am deeply fascinated by the mechanics in which Deaf culture could play into the Batfam. bc most of them are wearing masks that would heavily inhibit ASL (given ASL is an expressive language) so i think it's more likely they'd use something akin to Makaton or Military Hand Signals that are not a fully developed language, but a communication aid, with a given set of signs for the typical things that need to be communicated in the field. meanwhile they'd be more likely to use ASL casually. (i'm unsure who all in the Batfam is confirmed to know ASL, but i know at the very least Bruce and Tim are)

i'm also very drawn in by the idea of other firms of assistive communication/tech used aside from just ASL. i personally find it believable that the masks of any of the Batfam could include automatic captioning tech that only they see through the inside of the mask, similar to captioning glasses at movie theatres, if they were Deaf/HoH. also how you would modify the concept of comm links to be more accessible, potentially projecting the message visually through the person's mask or maybe a wrist communicator sort of situation, depending on their personal preference. how the Batfam in general would interact with each other if one or multiple of them were Deaf would be heavily shaped and i think it's so fun. and i *love* the thought of personal signs they'd have to come up with bc well, ASL is hardly equipped for their lifestyle. also fun to consider sign names and if sign names are unique to the person or unique to the mantle. (eg, would the sign name for Robin be specific to which Robin, or just the mantle at large) there's so many little things that would change and i just think it's Neat. most people are approaching the poll from the perspective of their character of choice having hearing loss from vigilante work (which is a super valid way to approach it and i love those headcanons) but personally i find it fun if the deafness is a pre-existing condition and already something the Bat has been dealing with for years and thus approaches vigilantism needing to modify their gear slightly from the standard norm. how they could influence how Bruce trains them, emphasizing other senses. how they'd likely be far more tactical on the field, pressing their hands against something to feel for noise, ergo their gloves may be designed to more easily pick up vibration. (cannot tell you how much i do that irl) whether or not they'd hide it from the larger hero world is also an interesting question. it's all a fun internal struggle as well, internalized ableism and all. so much you could do with it!!

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 Day 7: Deaf Mary-Alice

Good evening, tonight I bring you another popular request: Deaf Mary-Alice. Because one of the upcoming posts is quite dark at this point, I chose a wholesome section just for a little bit of fluff.

Deaf Mary-Alice kind of just exists without a fixed timeline, so at some point (probably once STL is complete), I'll go through and polish a lot of these AUs for supplemental material.

Anyway, I've spent all day on holiday tasks (baking, mostly) so I will love and leave you, and hope you enjoy!

Jasper’s oddly surprised that none of the Cullens are immediately clued in that Mary-Alice isn’t an ‘old friend’. As if the way she greets him isn’t a beacon that there was more to the story.

But then, they aren’t normal vampires. They are too human, too domesticated, and there’s so much lost in translation because of all the instincts they suppress. Sometimes he wonders if any of Carlisle’s creations know half the things they should; if any of them could actually survive as nomads.

But it’s a cruel thought that he dismisses. It’s just frustrating that there is so much disconnect between them and him; like a language that they never bothered to learn.

For the first weeks of her arrival, he and Mary-Alice cloister themselves in his study to… well, he would use the euphemism ‘catch up’, but a very large percentage of that time is spent naked, sprawled out on his couch.

(She might make the first move, simply planting a brain-altering kiss on him that first night. It feels like catching smoke in his hands - no one is truly lucky enough to get a second chance like this, and he doesn’t know how long it will last so he’ll treasure every second of her affections - and he’s not letting go. He doesn’t have the words to explain to her that it’s been so long and he missed her like someone had carved it out of him. He’s spent sixty years walking around forgetting what it was like to have her close, and now every single thing about his life, about himself, has been shaken to the core by how much she has always meant to him.)

The Cullens are interested in Mary-Alice, and he’s happy to translate for her. Esme expresses her happiness that Jasper had someone like Mary-Alice in the south, and he honestly assumes that Esme is diplomatically alluding to their relationship because it couldn’t have passed anybody’s notice that they’ve spent the best part of three weeks having sex on every piece of furniture in his study.

No one says anything when Mary-Alice greets him with a kiss to the cheek, to the hand; the way she wraps and coils herself around him, orbits him the moment he returns from school. He’s the same - kisses on the forehead and cheek; long, silent conversations where neither of them notice the time passing, holding her tightly against him when they are watching a movie or hanging out in the living room. Maybe it seems normal to them, that vampires from the wars seek out touch from trusted companions to undercut the violence of their survival. A way to shelter from all the horrors, for him to protect the vulnerable.

(They hunt alone and afterwards, she draws him close, her eyes bright and happy. He loves her giggles when he sweeps her up into his arms to kiss her. Or when he pulls her down into the grass and moss and soft dirt to lick blood off her mouth and cheeks and fingers. She swipes bloody fingers across his cheek and neck and tears off his shirt to trail them over his chest and down his stomach. Her tongue and teeth follow the trail, and she intentionally looks away so she can’t see his protests - it’s the only way that animal blood tastes good to her, she tells him later. And when they walk back to the house with torn clothes and a lightness that he doesn’t understand, he truly wonders how they managed to get to this place from where they started.)

It’s a daisy-chain of realisations for the Cullens; maybe he and Mary-Alice get careless. Maybe to them, it’s so obvious that it doesn’t seem like something they need to police or even think about. It just is.

Esme is the first, and walks in on them kissing in the living room. Actually, kissing is probably a polite euphemism, because he’s got her pinned against the arm of the sofa, with her skirt bunched up over her hips and his fingers teasing at her hipbone and his old scar there (not even a proper bite, just a playful back from one of the first times he took her to bed. Gangly and enthusiastic but lost was the only way to describe her that night; one of their best nights, honestly. No sorrow or worry or pain. Just him relearning that sex could be healing and fun, and not a power struggle.) She’s cradling his face as they kiss, and in the back of his head, he’s already preparing to scoop her up and take her upstairs but it feels so easy and normal just to lie on the couch and make-out like teenagers for a while.

“Oh!” Esme stumbles in surprise when she enters the room, her eyes round with surprise. The emotion practically slaps him in the face - pure shock, laced with embarrassment and affection.

Mary-Alice is giggling and signing her apologies as she pushes him off her.

“I didn’t know you two were…” Esme’s bursting with happiness now, the idea of Jasper having found his lost love occurring to her.

Mary-Alice’s response is blunt and graphic, so he doesn’t translate; he’s also distracted.

“Edward didn’t mention it?” But Edward shouldn’t have needed to; he doesn’t think they’ve been subtle.

(Fuck, it’s easy to think that when Mary-Alice is sitting on the unused kitchen table, signing exactly what she wants him to do to her whilst Carlisle is going over some legal documents he needs to get Jenks to take care of, but none of them speak their language. None of them have any reason to think that his strange, half-wild girl is propositioning him in very intense detail because they still see her as the poor, disabled waif in from the cold.)

“I don’t think Edward knows, he’s been spending so much time with Bella,” Esme says and then immediately reaches out and takes Mary-Alice’s hands; something that makes her tense up because that’s how she communicates. It’s the social equivalent of taking someone who can speak by the throat, especially down south. “Darling girl, we are so happy you’re here and you found Jasper again.”

Now she’s also confused and oddly touched by Esme’s earnest statement, and she awkwardly withdraws her hands to sign her gratitude.

Emmett and Rosalie are next, a few hours later. They’re both wearing clothing, and he’s sitting on the floor with a book and one of her legs thrown over his shoulder, his finger teasing at her ankle. She’s on the couch, with the other leg tucked underneath her, as she very carefully stitches together a new dress. It’s the kind of casual togetherness that he’s seen Rosalie and Emmett, Carlisle and Esme engage in over the years that always puzzled him. Now it’s here and it just happens? There’s not guiding words, just falling together in the moment. Occasionally one of her hands runs through his hair, or she’ll lean forward to say something, or he’ll absently rest his head against her leg, even press a kiss against her knee.

That’s when Rosalie barges in without knocking; his lips pressed against her knee, the sand and sugar scent of her around him. The little rumble of pleasure that she makes as his thumb rubs circles over her ankle.

“So it’s true?” Rosalie says, thunderclouds brewing.

“What’s true?” He’s irritated that they didn’t knock; just because he and Mary-Alice are clothed doesn’t mean that this moment isn’t private.

“That you and Mary-Alice were desecrating the couch when she got home?” Emmett sticks his head around the door and clumsily signs. “Hi short-stack.”

She flips him the finger and then asks him the meaning of ‘desecrate’ because that’s certainly not in their vocabulary.

“To ruin,” Rosalie enunciates rudely.

Mary-Alice leans forward so he can see her sign.

“I didn’t think we were that quiet? I can be louder,” she offers and he smirks before looking at his siblings.

“Mazel tov,” is all Emmett says. Rosalie looks like she cannot decide whether to storm off (is Mary-Alice better or worse for having been in love with Jasper? It means she’ll definitely stay, but she also has a better reason. It’s all tangled up in Rosalie’s overprotectiveness of her family, of staying safe in every way that matters. She hates change, but there are reasons that are more acceptable than others) or start lecturing.

“Esme did not catch us doing anything you two haven’t done to a dozen couches,” Jasper replies lazily, signing over his head for Mary-Alice, who immediately starts laughing. “Mary-Alice has offered to be louder next time so that you get adequate warning to our activities.”

“If Jasper really puts his back into it, I can be a screamer.” Mary-Alice says casually and that’s enough for him to choke a little and for Emmett to burst out laughing and Rosalie to look a little more pinched.

“Are my efforts inadequate?” He asks and Mary-Alice wriggles around to be able to lean over and kiss his cheek.

“You are perfect.” The sign for that is an old one, one that replaces humour with the memory of a long ago battle, of a tantrum born of frustration that she nearly got him hurt because she was different.

He’d told her that, fumbling to combine all their signs into something that meant what he needed her to know - that however she had been put together, however she had woken up, it was exactly and precisely as she was meant to be and nothing could improve on that. And when things got back for him, it was that same sign she would use. You are perfect.

(Maybe that was how they told each other, that first time, that they loved each other. Before he could verbalise it, could let himself consider that she was a fundamental part of himself and the world he inhabited, he was reassuring her with words that convinced her that if he could remake her a million times over, he wouldn’t change a single thing.)

[alchemania]

Finally got enough energy to talk about Furina's SQ and while I loved her and the troupe, MC and Paimon were .... Not Great. I talked about this with friends but in Paimon's case especially, the way they interact with Furina feels like people who just don't understand trauma and depression and then engage with someone suffering from both in all the wrong ways.

Talking about how much of a downgrade her house is from the opera house, making fun of how she can't cook, pushing her to act when she's set a very clear boundary and then guilt tripping her after she's stuck to her guns, shaming her for not being able to fight well (Paimon literally talks about how second hand embarrassment is overwhelming and I'm just like ?????), telling her she's "not acting like herself" when she attempts to open up and be vulnerable....it's just really rough. That and the MC asking "is something wrong" when Furina gets sad over Poission ..like bro people died and she couldn't save them and she's tearing herself apart over it. Those people are never coming back and you know it and you have the gall to ask her is something wrong??? Of COURSE there is!!

It just feels especially odd because we literally get to see all of Furina's suffering and Paimon in particular is. SO mean? Like she was more understanding with Wanderer and Ei and THEY'VE tried to kill us multiple times!! I don't get it, and honestly I'm very proud of Furina for refusing to waver. Let her rest!! She's tired and depressed and she needs time to heal; and honestly fuck Paimon for trying to make her feel bad. Furina's worked harder than she EVER will.

[ianthesmells]

mouthwashing is a special experience because not only do you get to watch characters not take responsibility and not expect men in power to do anything to help women in the game, but you also get to watch the same reaction play out in real time in the fandom

[girlbob-boypants]

Me when I cosplay as a straight cop for a pride event, openly say on my blog putting him in pride colors didn't look right, shout for fictional cop pride publicly at the event, people respond with "acab", and then get a bunch of defense posts and free art while the cop pride part conveniently gets left out of all the info defending me: