#“I am disabled please communicate with me negative I wish to communicate with you

[blue-survey]

This is how I will tell people I have autism.

[santae-salt]

OG accessibility anon again for a completely different salt salt and then I'll get out of your hair.

People whining about there being events aka things to do is bonkers to me. You don't have to do them. If you're worried about missing out on rewards then buy them from people who don't want them.

Money is so easy to farm and that's coming from me.

The "disabled whiner", as I've so lovingly been called.

As I said prior, I've played almost all the heavy hitters since 2000, and the reason I like Santae is that there are actually things to DO.

In fact I wish there was more to do! My sister badly wants more games to play for instance! Like Black Jack or Snake or Tile Match! Heck you can even reuse assets for the last one just slap items tiles and there you go.

If you hate having a developer provide things to do on a browser game so badly, go back to Flight Rising.

There you can click a button on a static image ten times and you're done for the day and you'll never have to worry about Stormlight ever giving you anything immersive or fun to do ever! Just your speed! :3

Sorry for being so mean, but holy crap... I think some of you are so desperate to find things to be weirdly hostile about just for the sake of it when there are far more legitimate things to be blowing whistles on.

Like the AI art that the staff seems to pretend to not see the salt about...

There's these things called positive and negative reinforcement, and Criticism Oversaturation. It is a scientific fact that if all you do is get shitty and confrontational about every little thing it makes it psychologically impossible for the recipient of the criticism to be able to take valid criticism seriously.

Some of you need to learn the meaning of the phrase, "Pick your battles."

Am I saying kiss CJ and the others asses? Hell no!

But if you keep making mountains out of mole hills, then you are going to get less transparency, less willingness to take valid feedback, and eventually a complete severance of staff - community communication.

That's how this works.

Keep yelling about the ai, artist pay, accessibility, loot boxes, pet release cadence, and staff behavior.

Shut up about staff doing their damn jobs.

Exhale. Love you guys. Please be wise. xoxo

☁️

[thewomanwholaughed]

I am 25+ and have been roleplaying on tumblr since 2013.

I'm Dollgendered Transfeminine and my pronouns are Doll/Dolls. You may refer to me as Fifi or Doll-mun.

Won't interact with Genderbent characters / blogs with Genderbend themes.

I do not own any of the characters, regions, objects and mythos. These are all owned by DC Comics.

Nothing Joker does, feels, or thinks reflects my personal opinions and beliefs in any way.

Blog covers a variety of triggering topics, all of which will be tagged. If something isn't tagged, or you have a request for something to be tagged: please let me know.

Practices hard/soft blocking. I curate my experience, I hope you do too!

Note:

Allow me to preface this by saying that I in no way advocate for any negative stereotypes. I am a disabled trans woman with a fondness for Joker as a fictional character and villain. The lack of LGBTQA+ positive media is a serious problem and even if things get better it’ll take a lot more effort for LGBTQA+ characters to become so normalized that there won’t be a problem making them a villain or explicitly maliciously evil.

I know that Trans people have been portrayed as the butt of the joke or straight-up malicious in a lot of media, and various harmful stereotypes attached to it. The pick-up in the bar, the deranged serial killer, and so on. I am by no means trying to say that I agree with these takes by writing and roleplaying Joker. But just because someone is LGBTQA+ doesn’t make them a good person, nor should you attack them on the fact that they do belong to that community.

I wanted to play with the various Joker origin stories that often have the same narrative to them: ‘All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy.’ I took a spin on this and made the Joker a Transwoman who went through the experience of trying to live in a society that does not accept her, stacking problem after problem against her till she snaps and becomes the Joker. How the various problems Trans people face such as healthcare, familial and romantic relationship problems, not being able to find work/getting fired, losing your home, sexual assault, and murder; can create a monster that doesn’t just lay down and take it.

I am not saying that Joker is in the right for doing what she does, and I am not saying that she’s in the wrong either, as the entire point of Joker’s character regardless of which take we’re talking about is that it’s a person who was driven to the brink and snapped. I simply wished to explore a different narrative that may come off as distasteful to some, but is a reality for a lot of people.

The joker I portrayed is just like the others in comics, video games, cartoons, and movies. A murdering psychopath with a penchant for humor and gags, everything circus or clown-themed. The only thing that changes is her Origin story; she still wants Batman dead, and she still wants to cause mayhem and chaos while giving people a good laugh. Her being Trans is part of the character as she stopped caring about the law and the people around her and takes what she wants, but it does not define her. She remains the Joker with the same twisted humor and mentality.

If this bothers you, please spare yourself and don’t follow/interact. There is plenty of positive LGBTQA+ media and portrayals out there, I simply wanted to indulge in a darker take. I hope that one day, Trans and Queer folk are so normalized in society and in media that we don’t have to feel upset anymore about how we are portrayed. That it’s alright to have an LGBTQA+ villain who is a villain not because they’re queer but because they’re evil; for all those out there who like villains, myself included. 

So please do not consider my Joker to be similar to any other form of media Joker and interact with an open mind if you take that step!

Q: Joker X Harley Quinn how does that work? A: This is dependent on the writers. My Joker is not abusive/manipulative towards Harley, should they be in a relationship. There is an aspect of feminism to my portrayal, and it'd defeat the purpose if Joker started behaving that way towards Harley.

Besides, Harley has come very far as a character that Joker's presence is absolutely not necessary for her as a character. So I am open to various takes their relationship might be. Be that they are just two clown themed individuals, that they did go through the Arkham song and dance, or that Joker is just a different universe's Joker so there is no direct relation.

Q: Your Joker is disabled, what exactly does that entail? A: This kind of ties in with my notice from above in that Joker is not more or less of a villain because she's disabled, and it has nothing to do with the old (and frankly disgusting) trope of Villains having visible disabilities. It's just that I as a disabled individual myself wish to write something I can personally relate to.

That said; Joker can be beaten up in a fight despite her disability. There is no reason to hold back because of them, as she will not hold back either. Joker is an ambulatory wheelchair user. Her wheelchair is heavily modified in both appearance and function to keep up with her antics. And in a dangerous situation will be abandoned if necessary. Her cane functions as several things at once. Part of her attire, a blunt weapon, and a tool to help her walk.

And just because she does lots of antics doesn't mean she doesn't suffer from pain for behaving in this manner. If Joker escapes, then she might just need a few weeks due to a lack of spoons and plenty of pain/discomfort in her legs. That's one way to get her off the streets. But it won't stop her from being a menace.

[genderkoolaid]

As a trans and disabled person, I have no strong opinions on endo systems but I actively hate “transdisabled” people. Most of the community I see treats disability like an aesthetic, like I chose to have my legs not work and that I look cool in my chair. And yeah maybe I do look cool but my disability brings so much fucking pain it feels disrespectful to act like it’s something I should be happy about. If you’re not in pain, you’re not in pain. Gender is a social construct but disability (to an extent, and I’m talking about my disability which severely impacts my nervous system and also causes access tissue to grow leading to severe pain) is not a social construct. It is something I have to suffer through every fucking day and to try and co-opt and draw conclusions between me and someone who doesn’t have to go through that is so disrespectful to me. You do not want this, it is painful and frightening and I have a good chance of dying before 30. If you feel like you have these symptoms and can’t afford a doctor I have no hate against self dxing. But acting like you have a disability with no symptoms is just a plain fuck you to those who suffer from them everyday.

Again, if you feel transdisabled due to an underlying psychological issue, I wish you the best and I hope you’re able to access adequate mental health care. But you do not have what I have. Your body is not twisted, you do not wake up everyday in agony, your body is not destroying yourself and I find it horrific of you to act like it is. For me transableism feels like it is treating the fact that I have had to fight for every step I take, every place I go, every time I’ve collapsed in absolute agony, the nights vomiting my guts out because there is tissue growing where it shouldn’t be, the amount of times I’ve screamed my throat raw into a pillow because my nerves are on fire and simplify it into a flag or an identity is so fucking disrespectful. If you have the same symptoms as I do and it is unsafe to go to a doctor or the doctor won’t believe you, I’m sorry and I support your right to self dx and I hope you find medication that helps. If you have BIID I hope you can find the therapeutic help you need in order to feel at home in your body. But you don’t have the disability I do, not to say BIID isn’t a disability or it’s a lesser disability, but you do not have what I do and it is infuriating to me to say you have what I have without experiencing a fraction of the pain that I have Final message: I don’t want to say I hate transabled people or I wish harm among them because most of them are younger people. But I want you to think about how demeaning it is to tell someone who’s body is twisted and overgrown and painful to say you want to be like that? To say you’ve been through the same thing? Stop. I know you’re not trying to be, but you’re being ableist. Trans people transition through a social construct by my pain is not social. Please seek psychological treatment for your BIID and stop making those flags

Okay, first, I need to clear this up: I do not have BIID and I am not transabled. I am already physically disabled, I use mobility aids, I am in pain constantly, my ability to eat normally is fucked up, and my quality of life has been severely negatively affected by my physical disability, to the point where it has been a major component of why I have been suicidal. Trust me, I understand. I would be pretty upset if someone came up to me and said they were envious of my disabilities, because it's rude to act that way about someone else's suffering.

My problem is, everything you have said is the exact same reasoning cis women have for seeing trans women as offensive. There are many cis women who have lived lives full of horrific misogyny, who have been deeply traumatized by misogyny, who view womanhood as intrinsic suffering and pain. And they feel that trans women are extremely disrespectful, because how could they possibly know what it's like to suffer through horrific misogyny? How could they act like womanhood is some fun game full of pink and flowers when it has been a major source of trauma in your life? These cis women feel that trans women view womanhood as an aesthetic, they only see the patriarchal construct of femininity and think it looks like fun, and they are extremely offended by the idea that a "male" can just co-opt womanhood and try to act like "he" knows anything about the horrible, traumatic experience of being a woman.

Now, disability and gender are not the same thing, nor do they function the exact same. But its the same arguments, and the same gut reaction to seeing someone seek out something that causes you so much pain, and feeling like they are spitting on your pain by doing that. Its an understandable reaction, but not one that is based in connection with those people.

The more I read about people with BIID/transabled people and their experiences, the more I really feel for them. Their experiences of dysphoria are real, and lead many to the strong desire to hurt themselves in order to relieve it, in lieu of available surgery; many trans people can relate to that desire. Their experiences of euphoria are also real- the few people who have achieved their desired disability seem to, fairly consistently (although the data is Scarce), genuinely feel relief and are able to live happier lives. Here is one study on a man who had his leg removed and was very happy with it, and another one on 21 people who were able to get surgery- for that one, every single person said they didn't regret it at all. They felt happy with their bodies, free from depression, and overall felt their quality of life had improved extremely.

Again, I understand the gut reaction to seeing someone say that they are envious of amputees or that they wish they could be disabled. It's not an evil reaction, it's not a bad reaction. But their desire does not negate anyone's suffering, just like a trans woman's euphoria does not negate a cis woman's trauma. Their pain and their joy are real, and it does not negatively affect me, or you, for them to experience and pursue that joy. They can definitely be ableist, and be disrespectful to disabled people, but that is not an inherent part of BIID/being transabled. And there are people who are already physically disabled who are happy with their lives and are fine with being disabled, especially amputees; why should that be fine, but transabled people are warped fetishizing freaks? And, again, their desires are not hurting disabled people. All of the people in the above studies spent years thinking about their desires and what it would mean (which I think is important to point out, because if you are basing your entire view of a group on teens on Tumblr, you probably aren't going to get the most nuanced, coherent perspective). I think it's rude to suggest that other people, who have never met a transabled person, just inherently know that they are fetishizing and thinking being disabled is a fun game. Shouldn't we listen to them on their experiences? Writing all of them off as not understanding what it's like to be disabled is a generalization, and the same can be said for trans people- how do we damn transabled people in a way that doesn't give fodder for transphobes? I feel like solidarity between both groups can be used to fight for greater bodily autonomy, no matter how strange their desired body seems to the culture they are in.

All in all, I completely understand why you feel the way you do. As I said, I would not want someone to tell me, to my face, that I'm lucky to be disabled. But that's not what having BIID or being transabled means- and I do think there is some value in the radical statement that being disabled is not inherently a lesser existence than being abled, and people can and are able to be happy and love their lives and their bodies as disabled people. I don't think transabled people should claim that they are physically disabled (unless they have transitioned and do have that disability), but their desires are not inherently ableist or awful. Their dysphoria is legitimate and they have a right to seek body euphoria, the same as a trans person, or someone who wants tattoos, or someone who wants to get body modifications to look like a lizard.

[neon-moon-beam]

Addressing Ableism In The Submas Fandom And Its Impact Again

The fact that I know multiple neurodivergent people who have bad feelings arise from seeing any content, including official, of Warden Ingo due to an influx people turning the Submas fandom into an ableist playground in the wake of PLA speaks volumes.

Before I continue, I want to stress: I am not calling anyone in particular out.

Unknowingly making ableist content does not make you a bad person. Everyone still has things to learn, everyone has room for change and growth. Self-education and critical thinking are very important here (and everywhere). A desire to correct a mistake, change, and grow from it is better all around than digging your heels in and refusing to budge or listen.

I am not responsible for bad faith interpretations or other potential misinterpretations of me addressing these issues that have personally affected friends, acquaintances, and myself, should people choose to make these interpretations.

I am also not responsible for the reading comprehension or critical thinking skills of others. If you don’t read the entire post and choose to be reactionary towards it, including making assumptions about what was said or putting words in my mouth, I am not at fault.

Bl*nkshippers are not welcome on my content.

I can't begin to forgive the contingency of the fandom that made neurodivergent people feel unwelcome and alienated in their own space, and made them wonder if other Submas fans, or even people in general, even see them as human.

Given that it’s widely accepted that Ingo and Emmet are autistic-coded characters, the fandom could have been a safer and enjoyable space for neurodivergent (but especially autistic) people. It could have even been a refuge for people upset by the uncertainty we were left with due to PLA being incomplete. Instead, a large contingency of fans took one look at Submas and went "how sad/unhinged/angsty can I make the train blorbos?" and decided disability, trauma, and mental illness were acceptable to use as props.

To the people who have been doing things along these lines (but with especially Emmet!);  this tells neurodivergent people that you think they're unhinged, will hurt others if given an opening to do so, and portraying Ingo and/or Emmet as never having been human, turned into something nonhuman (as in Submas is singled out as nonhuman, and NOT in something like a Pokemon Mystery Dungeon AU or other AU where everyone is not human), or otherwise being not in control of their own actions is telling neurodivergent people that you don't even see them as human. And yes, you can be sending this message even if you yourself are neurodivergent!

Because of all this, I now know multiple people who do not want to see any content involving Warden Ingo, or PLA at all due to the negative association from the fandom, and even some who have stopped engaging with Submas in varying degrees.

I've made it very clear in other posts that I don't like how fandom is on tumblr for many reasons and that I do not consider myself part of the Submas fandom. But the Submas fandom has further turned me off to fandom as a whole, and I currently do not wish to engage with PLA content outside of making reassurance posts compiling evidence Ingo will or has gone home.

My roommate barely posts Submas art anymore because the pervasive ableism got to be too much. This is saying something considering she’s the author of the Submas primer many people, probably including many of those making ableist content, reblogged. She’s also the author of a post detailing Submas as autistic-coded characters. She’s been alienated from a community that she had provided a ton of research for! Please think about that for a second.

Other people don’t want to see Submas interacting with certain characters ever again (namely Volo), because of the ableist content created around their interactions, or even ships.

And if you’ve been around since at least PLA, you may have noticed that there are a few people who frequently posted about Submas as well as the ableism, who haven’t engaged with Submas content in a long time.

Fandom shouldn’t become an alienating or even hostile space for people who just want wholesome or comforting content, or simply want to see characters they like or even find representation in NOT being treated as ableist puppets or being so ooc with angst and ableism they’ve essentially become the artist or writer’s OCs. But unfortunately that's the track the Submas fandom seems to frequently head down in the wake of PLA.

If you’d like more info about the ableism that has been going on in Submas fan content, there is a list of posts here, but this is by no means exhaustive.

This is a post I previously referenced in one of my posts about the ableism about the issue of making Emmet violent and traumatized for entertainment purposes and why it’s problematic to use trauma as a prop.

And here is a post I made (with my roommate’s addition) addressing the issue of people thinking ableist portrayals aren’t harmful or don’t have an impact on real people.

And if you’re going to continue to make ableist content of Submas (or any other fandom) without any regard as to how your work impacts others, then there isn’t much anyone can do. But don’t be surprised if people choose not to engage with you or your content.

Thank you for your consideration.

[codename-adler]

Dear Tumblr toxicity,

Hi. Adler here. We need to talk.

- TW: mental health issues, depression, bipolar disorder, self-harm, homophobia, transphobia, coming out, xenophobia, islamophobia, racism, implied sexual content, rape, non-con, addictions, abuse, parental negligence, depictions of violence, swearing (please message me kindly if I forget anything)

- What prompted this message: The release of Skam France S7 teaser (emphasis on teaser, will get into that below)

- Where I’m coming from: I will talk from the pov of a white, cis and queer 22-years-old woman (she/her); this is the pov that affects my experiences and the opinions I will share below; but my message comes from a place of deep hurt, and love

- What this is about: My goal is to share a recurring experience that has hurt me in order to spread a message of awareness, maturity, peace and love

- Central content: Skam France, Skam Wtfock, and Skam/remakes in general

From now on I will assume people have enough information for me to talk about the topics without explaining every plotline/character. There are plenty of wiki pages to help you out and I will gladly answer any (respectful) questions asked if a plothole bothers your comprehension of my message. I’m only making these assumptions in order to alleviate the text.

January 9th, 2021.

The francetv slash YouTube channel releases an unexpected teaser video for an equally unexpected seventh season Skam France. The video features Tiffany, a white, cis female teenager, going into labour from denial pregnancy just after winning what appears to be a gymnastics championship. Overall, the video and its release are very dramatic.

The character of Tiffany, also called Tiff, was previously seen on season 6 of Skam France as a bully who persecuted the main character, Lola, both at school and on social media. Outside of this characterization, nothing is known about her. It is majorly accepted that Tiff is not a liked character; she rather poses as one of the antagonists of Lola’s arc.

Now you know the details of what happened, in the most objectively possible way. 

Now I’ll speak for myself.

Before I went digging around for people’s reaction, here is what I initially thought of this video.

1) Shock: I thought Skam France was over, so... Big, big shock.

2) Excitement: I hold this web series very close to my heart. It has gotten me through depressive episodes, anxiety attacks, coming out to my best friend. To see this new development? It couldn’t bring me more joy.

3) Curiosity: I recognized Tiff immediately. I was intrigued as to what would happen to her to set off a new season in true Skam Fr fashion. As soon as she started gripping her stomach, I knew she was pregnant and wasn’t aware of it. Big, big surprise here again.

4) Numbness/Overthinking: As I stared at my screen, motionless, my mind went off. What did it mean? How did she not know? Who is the father? Do we know him? Will the baby survive? Where are the other characters? Will Lamifex be present? What? How? When? Why? Who?

5) Disappointment: No, I did not like Tiff one bit in S6. Yes, I sincerely wished for a season on either Jo (ambiguous and funny teenage girl, cis + white), Sekou (seemingly neurodivergent teenage boy, cis + black), and my favorite, Max (mysterious and grave teenage boy, trans + white) So why Tiff? It felt to me like a missed opportunity, but I did not lose hope.

So, these were the five stages of my emotional process. And then I made the terrible mistake to go look for the fans’ reaction. I didn’t even look at the YT comments, I didn’t go on Instagram, I went directly here on Tumblr. Why? I’m still asking myself that. From S1 to S6 of Skam Fr, I kept my love for the show to myself and only looked at ig and video edits. I tried once, and only once, to look it up on Tumblr, and was greeted by fervent agressivity, disrespect and hate. Why did I ever forget that after watching the S7 teaser? I still don’t know.

The reactions on this platform were wild. People are furious (I get that). People are disappointed (I get that). People are anxious (I get that). People are also verbally agressive, insensitive, hateful, disrespectful and bullies. I don’t get that.

Comments along the lines of “What she gonna do with a fucking baby?”, “Are we gonna watch the baby do nothing all fucking season?”, “Wowwww, teenage pregnancy, so new and relatable!” (note the sarcasm made in the comment here), “Who gives a shit about Tiff?”, etc. 

And then all the mistakes Skam Fr ever made flooded back onto the feed. The wlw misrepresentation, the whitewashing, the overdramatization, the dubious sex scenes between minors, all of it.

Let’s take a break here. Do I condone these mistakes? Nope. Am I a white-bully apologist? Nope. Did I forget every horrible action Tiff has made in the past? Nope. She manipulated a whole school against Lola, she profited from Lola’s mother’s death, she bullied her, harrassed her, pushed her deeper into mental distress. Tiff was a despicable character that I never once liked. The way she was played by the actress made it clear that Tiff was not intended to be a good guy. If I could replace her as the main of S7, I would, in a heartbeat. I’d choose, as I said, Jo, Sekou or Max.

Skam France deeply lacks diversity and made mistakes when attempting to diverse the issues represented. This is not an opinion, it’s a fact. 

Poc representation is very, very low. Only one season has a woc of Islam beliefs as mc (Imane, S4) with poc entourage/family. Only 2 other characters not related to Imane were poc (Sekou and Sarah, S1-S2). These 2 characters were very in the background and served to further the mc’s plotline, they had no real content. (I am not a poc, and so my opinion does not matter here. If you are not poc, your “opinions” don’t matter here, this point is not for you to debate. These are facts.)

While I do not particularly find the wlw representation bad, I do understand how it hurts/bothers other queer women. From my perspective, the bar was very low regarding my expectations of the Lola/Maya pair (none of them died *yay* they had a happy ending *yay* they were not typically overfeminized or overmasculinized *yay* Lola  and Maya were respectful of each other, understood each other, accepted each other with all their flaws and their beauty *yay* I truly believed in their love and it gave me confidence and hope *yay* I ould really go on but this is not my main point so I’ll stop here) Regardless of my opinion on Mayla, I understand that to some queer women, it was bothering/hurtful. (If you are anything other than a woman / wlw, this point is not for you to debate. Keep your “opinions” to yourself, it does not matter here. These are facts.)

Like every remake of the original Skam where the S4 was given to Sana/Imane, the Muslim community was not represented at its best, at its most beautiful and respectfully. The character of Imane, although she is my favorite girl of the series, was not portrayed in a way that respected the majority of the Muslim community. (If you are anything other than Muslim, this point is not for you to debate. Our opinions do not matter here. These are facts.)

And so the same goes for the portrayal of sexual assault and child pronography in S2, of mental illness and homophobia in S3, of disabilities in S5, of addiction, transphobia, self-harm and neurodivergence in S6. Again, if you are not part of these communities, your opinions do not matter on these issues. These are facts that are not up for debate.

In other words, Skam France, as well as the original Skam, Skam Wtfock, Skam España, and probably all the others I haven’t watched in their entirety, are NOT perfect shows. They (maybe) tried their best to portray issues of the younger generations that are ugly, shameful, taboo, hard-to-swallow-pills. Of course they made mistakes. Of course they have to be held accountable. Of course they can and should do better. Of course it must be spoken about.

Here is my problem.

The so-called “fans” shamelessly SHITTING on the WHOLE show because of ONE TEASER TRAILER. (btw, this is where I get angry)

I am not talking about the fans making fun of the show and this season’s premise like “Better MCs than Tiff for S7: a romance between the car that almost hit Lucas S3 and the car that hit Arthur S5, or the school’s nurse, or Imane’s dad, or Elu’s rabbit” (that shit’s funny and I’d watch all of these).Or the joke about Wtfock and Skam Fr shaking hands while signing the same contract to disappoint the fans with white MCs (it’s funny cuz it’s trueeeee).

I am not talking about the fans criticizing the producers’ choice of Tiff as MC. There is a difference between shitting on issues and adressing/discussing them. I WANT to talk about how this season’s issue would have been so much better if a woc, specifically a black woman, had been the MC, because black women and doctors are a whole different level of issue than white women and doctors. Add on top of that an unplanned teenage pregnancy? It would have been IMMACULATE. I WANT to talk which wlw couple was better represented, Mayla or Croana/Crisana, and why is that. I WANT to talk about disabilities in black and poc communities. I WANT to talk about headcanons, AUs, to rectify the missed marks. I WANT to talk about our takes on seasons about Max, Sekou and Jo, instead of Tiff’s.

I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT YOUR SHITTY, NEGATIVE, UNHELPFUL, HURTFUL COMMENTS.

Just because the protagonist is white, doesn’t give you ANY right to dismiss the issue that is unplanned teenage pregnancy. This is a problem that affects countries WORLDWIDE. Do you know how many deaths are related to minors giving birth? Do you know how many babies die at birth from these pregnancies? Do you have any idea the trauma it puts you through, to go into labor without even knowing you were pregnant in the first place, and then giving birth, and then having to care for a defensless human being? The dilemma of keeping it, or giving it away? The fear that lives in every person able to give birth, that one day they’ll become pregnant, because society turns sych a shameful look to that? No matter your ethnicity, your gender identity, your sexuality, your political stance or whatever shit you bring up to justify your disgraceful and downright degrading comments, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT A MINOR GIVING BIRTH IS NOT AN ISSUE. 

You think the topic has been covered plenty before? Yeah, because shows like “16 and pregnant” and “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant!” are such good examples and show the reality with such an objective point of view! 

Bullshit. Teenage pregnancy is still a taboo, it still kills, and people are still morons about it. 

“Well I guess everybody is secretly pregnant now!” No, Jessica, but you wouldn’t know about it, would you? Because I wouldn’t tell you shit if you were my “friend” and I was going through it. The whole message of all the Skams is not that it presents super relatable issues of teenagers, although it is a big topic of the show. They present some issues that affect the youth in an authentic light, but that’s not it.

Tous les gens que tu rencontres mènent un combat dont tu ignores tout. 

Sois indulgente. Toujours. x x x

//

Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.

Be kind. Always. x x x

THAT’S THE MESSAGE. THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF THE SHOW.

And you all missed it.

All of you making dead baby jokes and death threats, degrading people who give birth, shaming teenagers for their pregnancies... Listen to yourselves.

“Well she deserves it, she was such a bitch!” No, Michael, you shit stick. Let’s rewind a bit for you, yeah? It was a GOD DAMN TEASER. We literally know nothing! Nothing at all! Why are y’all getting mad when we saw 3:25 minutes representing a whole ass season! Listen to yourselves. Y’all judge so fast for people pretending to love Skam and its authenticity and its motto.

You say Tiff is irredeemable?

Emma cheated on her boyfriend.

Manon lied and manipulated her friends.

Lucas was homophobic and prejudiced agaisnt mentally ill people.

Imane was homophobic too and went behind her friends’ back to get what she wanted.

Arthur cheated on his girlfriend too.

Lola dragged Elliot down with her in her addiction, lied, was verbally abusive, etc.

ALL THE MAINS ARE PROBLEMATIC.

Any guess why?

BECAUSE THEY ARE TEENAGERS. THEY ARE STILL GROWING AND LEARNING.

Yet we still loved them all. 

So don’t you dare tell me that Tiff deserves this, that her baby deserves to die, that teenage motherhood is irrelevant. Motherhood is not a curse in the first place, nor is it something to wish to inflict upon anyone. Motherhood is different for every single person and nobody except the person living with it can have an opinion on that. We don’t even know if the baby survived, for God’s sake!

There is no excuse for this kind of behavior..

It makes me so angry. Women are discriminated against in a fandom I thought was safe, again and again and again. 

I have to stop here because, well, this is just too much. There is much wrong with Skam (the original AND all the remakes), but there is even more wrong with the fans. I’m done.

You don’t support the show anymore? Fine, then don’t watch it! If I really am wrong, the number of viewers will go down and the show will die, just like you wished. There is no need to be vicious about it. 

I hope y’all are proud of your misogyny. 

Sincerely,

Adler.

[hell-is-a-teenage-girll]

LDR

There are people who will be happy about this. And I know people and so do I understand why the traveling ban is made.

But I just need some love from our tumblrcommunity.

They just decided to close the travel to and from belgium 

My love was gonna come to Belgium in February. Now probably this isn’t gonna happen, as the information about long distance couples isn’t fully clear (yet) I know alot of people with long distance are having a hard time. And trust me I understand why they decide this. I am not some kinda person who is like FUCK THE RULES, FUCK COVID, No I really understand it all, but from a human point of view.. it’s.. ugh

I’m just upset because.. My life already was alot like quarantine before. it’s been like that for years. I’ve been ill for over 10 years.

And I’m doing worse and worse, and tbh seeing her was a light for me. And to just not be alone while being in pain, makes a world of a difference. 

I’m not just a “healthy” person who was used to going outside and doing what I want. And I can understand how difficult it must be for the people who used to be able.

I used to go outside and do things maybe once a week or once in 2 weeks. We’d go to flea markets or parks. That already fell away.

I am stuck inside, which drives me insane. I am always locked between walls, if it was summer I’d have a less hard time because feeling the sun, the warmth (which works like a natural painkiller even) is my most favorite and cherished thing in life. right now it’s winter. all I can do is sit inside, which hurts, I can lay down, which also hurts.

I try to keep busy and maybe organize or clean, from which I will suffer the next day. I can not work, I am disabled even if it’s not visible.

I’m not saying when my girlfriend is here the pain disappears, I wish.

But it helps, she holds me through it, she lays with me, she helps me, she sometimes even picks me up literally, her presence makes it all a bit more .. I don’t know the word.

And before you tell me that every one suffers from this, I know.

But please keep in mind I am in pain 24/7. I already have NO option of going outside because being high risk, in the cold I can not do anything because my body can’t handle it. My littlest amount of freedom fell through as well. And now so does my one sparkle in life.

I don’t want pity, and I really don’t need negative comments, neither does S.

 I will block you at first glance of a negative ask, because I know some of y’all were just waiting for this, but message me, I won’t even read it further as soon as I see it’s a negative one, as I am not asking for pity, or rage against the rules, I am just here to vent.

I just needed to vent in the place I feel at home, in our little community here.Because sometimes, I’m really tired.

[azuradreaming]

A Silent Voice: Naoka and Shoko’s Scene

Part 3 of my review of A Silent Voice is here! Technically 3.1, because this particularly one I had so much I want to talk about.

There was a scene where Naoka lashed out at Shoko blaming her for everything (for broken friendships between elementary school friends, for Shoya treating her coldly, etc) and being sick of her depressing state. She went as far as saying Shoko didn’t bother to understand her. Didn’t bother to try to talk to her.

When I first watched the movie, my first impression of Naoka and this scene was negative. I remember thinking “What a bitch. She didn’t even bother to acknowledge what she did wrong at the end.”

But now that I am watching the movie again and thinking about it. I realized Naoka was right about one thing. Shoko actually never made the first move to talk to anyone. Yes, we have seen people being friendly and introducing themselves to her on the first day. And yes, we have seen Shoko approach the group, but all she ever said was “When you want to talk to me, please use this notebook.”

What are a bunch of young children supposed to say? If someone said that to you, will you be able to think of anything? You could argue that Well she can’t hear, so they should try to interact with her like ask what’s her favorite color? Favorite hobby? Favorite show?

Then, why can’t Shoko do the same? Why can’t she take that initiative to communicate with them? She could have written What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite hobby? What’s your favorite show? She could have made that same exact effort on her side.

Instead, she sat there and waited. And waited some more. She continued to wait for someone to talk to her as the gap between her and the rest of the class continued to become bigger and bigger to the point where she became disliked and outcast by both the class and herself which led to the bullying. The class outcasted her, but at the same time, she outcasted herself too.

Communication and friendship is a two way street, not one. Yes, the class didn’t bother trying to talk to her, but Shoko didn’t either. And the more difference they see in her and the more leeway they see the teachers give her, the more unjust they felt, thus the negative towards her grows as she continues to not communicate. Shoko is letting her disability hold her down. She let it overtake her, consume her, depress her. She is letting that wall between her and the class grow taller and thicker where one with that kind of mindset can never climb over it nor break through the other side.

Naoka had every right to say what she said to Shoko. I just wish there was a more solid scene where we see the two actually make up, instead of Shoko finally making that attempt to overcome her disability and make up with everyone including Naoka and then time-skipping to where the two are now friends.

Please look forward to the next half of part 3 where I talk about what this scene reminds me of. Coming out tomorrow.

There won’t be Song of the Post this time.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

MomDad I need some advice . When I have a bad brain day ( Don’t know what is going on . Is it trauma due to my past or something else ? Who knows ? Not me ) I am very tired , I don’t speak or only very little ( speaking is very hard and draining during those days ) , and any kind of sound or movement strongly piss me off ( someone breathing loudly or putting a plate on the table ) . How do I deal with it ? I try my hardest to stay calm and polite but it’s obvious I’m angry .

okay so this is just my gut instinct here, but my whatever-the-autistic-version-of-gaydar-is is going off like crazy right now. going nonverbal/semi-verbal under stress and both being very sensitive to sensory input and reacting to sensory overload with the urge to have a meltdown positively screams autism.

as i said, what you’re describing is sensory overload. it’s when everything is Just Too Much and all of the noise and light becomes so overwhelming it fills you with feelings like pain, anger, even panic, and you just can’t cope even though it’s “just” regular sounds. if you had nothing going on but this one thing i might suggest misophonia, which is a condition where you’re extremely sensitive to small but annoying sounds like breathing or tapping or clicking.

but put together with having trouble speaking and having ‘bad brain days’, i really feel like you’re an undiagnosed autistic. 

there is, obviously, a LOT to be said on that topic, and i don’t have to spoons to go over it all, so i’m going to recommend that you please go through my autism tag to read what i’ve previously said and reblogged, which will cover a lot and probably be extremely informative. however, there are a couple things i’d like to say to you directly.

firstly, i really hope that you don’t find this to be devastating or terrible, because despite what many awful people will say, i don’t believe that autism is an inherently bad thing. it’s not a disease, it’s not a mental illness, we simply have brains that run on a different operating system, and that’s okay. yes, it causes us problems, but that doesn’t mean we need to be “cured” and it certainly doesn’t give anyone the right to treat us like shit. we are every bit as human and as valuable as anyone else. it’s a disability, yes, but ‘disability’ isn’t a bad word.

secondly, you are going to run into a lot of stuff and people who will tell you that you “can’t” be autistic, for this or that uninformed reason. there are people who think only little white boys can be autistic, or that people who can speak or hold down a job or have friends “can’t” be autistic. if you don’t have a perfect checklist of stereotypical traits, you may not be able to get an official diagnosis from a allistic (non-autistic) doctor who is working off very outdated information.

however, i and many others don’t believe you need an official diagnosis, not unless it’s important you get one for the sake of getting government accommodations or things like that. you can self-diagnose as autistic and be valid, just go and do your homework first.

please go through my whole autism tag, but this is specifically my autism traits tag, which you can check out to compare yourself to lists of autistic traits that have been put together by real autistic people, not allistic doctors. if i’m right, i think you’ll have the same moment of realization that i did a few years ago when i came across those posts and started putting together the pieces that made my life suddenly make sense.

for me, realizing i’m autistic has been unquestionably a good thing. that doesn’t mean you can’t have some negative feelings about it, that you can’t sometimes just wish you were normal. but we are what we are, and it’s so much better to find pride in that than to feel like something’s wrong with you. nothing is wrong with you, you’re just the way you are, and the way you are makes sense.

going semi-/nonverbal is okay, you don’t need to “fix” that. look into alternative methods of communication, like texting or sign language. look into ways of dealing with sensory overload that help to minimize the negative input, such as earplugs or headphones or sunglasses. stimming can also help you deal with negative feelings.

this is probably a whole lot to throw at you at once, but please think about it, and feel free to ask more questions too. take care, dear. 

[irageneveart]

there are so many things a 16 years old person should be doing beside throwing hate, BUT HERE YOU ARE BEING A BRAT

@bfmyers I really can't take this anymore, are you really that full of hypocrisy to scream TOXIC left and right while you yourself use your free time to only spread hate? I don’t usually do this and I try to stay away from useless discourse but you're just kicking on my nerves way too much

under the cut cause boy I have a lot to say. (really, it’s long. I needed to point out everything)

I'm going to kindly tell you to fuck off artists' backs.

you have 0 fucking knowledge of what you're talking about yet you're making callouts and worse, people agree! the same people who supported the artists before by reblogging and liking their art are now shitting on them and "ihh no more reblogs from them" only because you write a lengthy shit in which not only that you threaten a human being, you don't even know how to argue. a link to a picture and screaming "toxic" ISN'T A GODDAMN ARGUMENT

people of this community, PLEASE use your fucking brains and don't bow your head to what every nameless kid has to say. you don't have to believe me either, just use your fucking brain and heart and do the decision making yourself

Now, you did a callout post on @dbd-omija pointing out how toxic they are!!! omg gasp animal death? abuse?? HOW IS THAT pOsSIbLe

where have you been until now because this is a horror community:

in the TCM universe inbreeding is mentioned multiple times

in the Halloween movies Michael kills two dogs and eats one of them

omija clearly stated they went with the 1978-2018 timeline BUT NO YOU KEPT SCREAMING BECAUSE HOW DARE THEY SAY SOMETHING AGAINST YOU

on that matter: in the halloween movies Michael's cult makes him rape his niece, in another movie Laurie, before jumping to what it seemed her death, kisses Michael's mask lips. GASP, when will you sue the directors?

after he escaped, Max literally slaughtered every living creature in that farm. put the DBD devs on your "I need to sue them cause I have something to say against this horror game!!!" list

If there’s something I can agree with you on, it’s about tags. Yes, these are triggers, yes tagging is important, but let’s not forget that being in this community IS about being surrounded by triggers. out of courtesy sure, we should tag our stuff accordingly, but to go all out to say “omija, if you’re reading this, i’m going to pee in your mouth.” HOW. IS. THIS. ACCEPTED?! HOW

HOW THE FUCK PEOPLE WHO REBLOGGED THAT CALLOUT THOUGHT YES THIS IS GOOD?!!?!

now you said that Omija's making all of these seem cute and that’s the real problem. this is where you are sooo wrong and let me explain:

a round head doesn't instantly make everything cute. there are many many details that the human eye perceives as cute, things that artists go to when they want their art to be seen as cute. from the color chosen to the way their eyes and mouths are drawn, to the very line work they’re using. yes, shapes count too, but this is not the case and we should get out of our tiny box and see the big picture. Their comics are not meant to be cute, actually much respect to them for being brave enough to approach well known subjects that are not explored. But that’s it. If YOU see it as cute then it’s your problem really. Art and fiction is prone to interpretation

If anything, how much cute stuff we have in the community should be the anomaly, not that someone draws anxious Bubba

omija's Amanda and Bubba art is problematic! someone asks why, you: because is toxic!!!

really? I actually think that, given their individual personalities, omija portraits the ship’s dynamic really well. Amanda is not dealing well with her feelings and with humans and Bubba has problems understanding things in general. they are two deranged people finding a way to cope and to accept another human presence nearby. "Amanda is picking on a disabled person how can you say it's well!!!!" let me remind you that his entire family is picking on his disabilities and the fact that he loves but also FEARS his family is a big theme in Leatherface's story and personality

Also, another argument of yours was about “the power play” and how that’s problematic. I’m...honestly surprised you even thought of this argument because the entire slasher fandom, the movies, everything slasher related IS BASED ON POWER PLAY. Have you read what they wrote for Laurie/Michael to say the ship is based on power play and it’s wrong? No, me neither, cause I don’t care, but you seem to care enough to vomit about it. Go read some things and tell me how problematic the writing is, you need to call out writers too after all

Btw, surprise! I don't ship neither of the mentioned ships, but I can use my brain enough to see what omija does is actually well made and well thought, sick, weird in some instances, but well thought. kudos to you artist. I can also see those who ship Laurie and Michael are still nice people

But just like you and many others I have my own morals (do you now? Exposing yourself like that to NSFW content while so many people are scared for their life because of people like you? hmmmm) and I can’t really stand explicit pedophilia. I’ve read so many books or seen so many movies where it was mentioned, it’s a trigger factor, it’s taboo, therefore is normal to be used in darker works. It all depends on the circumstances and the way it is presented, cause it’s a piece of fiction. Nobody attacked George R. R. Martin for the controversial things he had written in his books right? I wonder why

Because, another surprise, fiction is different than reality and only this argument alone should be enough, but some monkey brains out there will come to scream at me how fiction affects reality. Someone who writes a murder mystery isn’t actually killing people when they put pen to paper. People who play shooter games do not wish to shoot people in real life. Someone who writes about rape will not welcome the rapist in their arms nor do they wish to rape someone. So on, it’s simple, again, we just need to use our brains.

If you have bullying-related or a family related or any thing related trauma and you see a Michael/Laurie fic or Quentin/Freddy or whatever other ships or subjects you have seen around, and decide to click on it, and then you have a negative reaction, that fiction is not harming you. Your unresolved trauma is harming you. Your decision to read something when you know it triggers you is harming you. The past actions of yourself and those who inflicted harm upon you are harming you. All of those things – your trauma, your real-life bullies, your actions – are real, and have the ability to harm you. (the italic bits are from @dracfics who said it better than I ever could put in words. Thank you)

next on your "who am I going to shit on today" is @renlvbon

not gonna lie, for the omija callout I read everything searching to see whenever you are right or not. I don’t personally know either of the artists but I could read enough to see you’re just a self entitled person with something to say regarding everything. for ren's callout I simply skipped after I saw your argument.

you're not doing gods' work by opening people's' eyes that they can or should portray the characters the way they are, disabled and gross. no, you're just picking on someone's art style

Can we stop this toxic nonsense???

don't get me wrong, I agree that we shouldn't make them supermodels and we shouldn't erase what they are, fucking ugly and gross killers, but saying people who don't draw them a certain way are cowards or calling them out or whatever else shit is TOXIC and ANNOYING. We all change them more or less, we have to because none of us are the original creators! We’re just thirsty people making them to be what we want and what we imagine because they’re fucking fiction

I’ve seen people agreeing with you saying the artist should consider real people with disabilities or on the heavier side (“like me” they pointed out). I’m so sorry if this comes out as rude but if you search or need validation in a horror community that’s not a good thing at all! Body positivity and a healthy approach to disabilities should. not. be. searched. in. a. horror. community or any community on tumblr for that matter. You want some positivity on that? In a real case scenario with them we all would die, no matter how you look like

Going back to the artists, some people don't have experience/ are insecure/ are uncomfortable drawing body hair or fat bodies or whatever. That doesn’t make them fatphobic or whatever shit I saw you writing in your tags.

Drawing a black character less than the color YOU think is good? Have you ever tried to color skin? There are so many ways to do it, there are so so many colors you combine and you play around with + lighting and shading that alters everything. and yeah maybe some people pick a different color, a lighter one, or a more yellow one than they should for asiatic people, or whatever. but these tones are NOT easy to get well (you can always put a brown color down and to call it a day, but maybe people won’t want that. They don’t want to be disrespectful, exactly cause there are predators like you that don’t know how to help, only how to fucking scream). Or maybe they simply don’t know how. Every artist has their own range of comfort zone, be it about subject - composition - colors - etc. I don’t do well with neon colors for example, it happens. Hell even the screen you’re using alters the colors

How about giving actual tips, support and explanations instead of rude call outs? And don’t come at me with the “color picker” shit cause color picker from a real life photo is hell and if you don’t know some color theory your art is going to look dull and lifeless regardless

The only time I can agree that whitewashing is wrong is when white-supremacy, nazi and other ugly shits like these are coming into the topic. But it’s not the case here

some young artists don't have the skill to draw certain body shapes, or body hair, or even a non-anime face. some others think putting a scar on the character’s face make them 'uglier' and ‘scarier’ and for them that's enough AND THAT'S ALRIGHT

drawing something that's supposed to be ugly but still having anatomy and proportions and a functionable mouth or eyes placement or whatever ISN'T EASY. ofc, you can go all out if that's what you want, but personally I want things to still be working because at the end of the day every single one of them is human. I'm not drawing dark fantasy in this fandom, I'm drawing slashers

NO ONE IS DRAWING FOR YOU. NO ONE IS USING THEIR SKILL TO MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD. art and writing, especially when is made in the free time of the creator, is made FOR THEMSELVES. If there are people enjoying it? Yay, that’s a win, but no one expects everybody on this planet to like what they’re doing. We’re getting back to that golden rule, DON’T LIKE: MOVE THE FUCK ON/ BLOCK AND LIVE YOUR LIFE. EASY. no one uses these unnecessary callouts for anything, if you have something to say do so kindly, if you can’t, just vent to your friends

So now let’s wrap it up cause IDK how many of you even make it through this point

can we fucking stop making young artists and writers cowards for drawing or writing how they can and however they fucking want? Please and thank you

this shit going on with "the best artist/writer for x y z character" or "conventionally drawing ugly Bubba uwu" will just destroy the confidence of whoever wants to keep drawing or writing or joining the fandom. There’s no competition who draws Bubba the ugliest nor who writes Michael the best. if you can do things a certain way, do it, and let the rest draw and write whatever they can WITHOUT FEARING THEY'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

now I'm waiting for your very "well" argumented reply but I hope you'll understand that what you're doing is TOXIC and you should stop or at least change your way to address things. You’re talking to other human beings, not a void when you can throw any random thought you have in the morning. I don't care about you to be honest, but there are so many people out there following your words mindlessly and the creators are suffering and it's not fair.

don't forget to tell me to go kill myself. have a nice day

[politicalprof]

A letter to my former student:

This is going to be a long post, and I realize almost no one will actually bother to read it. But I need to say it. So let’s begin.

------------------

Recently, I had a Twitter exchange with a former student. He’s a really good guy; I like him a lot, and always have. Our interactions are positive and respectful. He’s a veteran of the Persian Gulf War who has gone on to be a teacher, an administrator, and a coach at at a high school. He has been a servant to the nation and the community and deserves nothing but respect for that.

In the course of our exchange, he volunteered the following comment:

“and, please understand that it is possible to be a conservative without being a supporter of our president - in fact, I've been waiting for a while to cast a vote for someone I actually favored as opposed to against someone I do not!”

What follows is my response:

Of course it it possible to be a conservative without being a supporter of our president -- in theory. In theory, there might be a credible conservative alternative to Donald Trump who might advance a conservative political agenda that you might agree with.

But we don’t live in the world of “in theory.” We live in this world, at this time. And the conservative politics you wish to support no longer exists. Rather, conservatism in its American sense -- belief in limited government, support for independent businesses, a confidence in the rights and capacity of the individual to make choices for themselves and to live with the consequences of those choices (at least in matters not related to abortion rights, which American conservatives do not seem to trust women to exercise) -- has been dying for at least 30 years. Modern conservatism is a mere shadow of its former self, and there is no evidence that there is a credible conservative core inside the Republican Party around which a contemporary conservative movement that looks like the older one might form.

My concern with your impulse to vote against candidates you don’t like (Democrats, I presume) is with the unchallengeable fact that Donald Trump and his enablers now constitute an existential threat to the survival of American democracy itself. Voting for Trump OR his Republican enablers makes one complicit in advancing that threat. Indeed, so long as no serious challenger to Trump and his enablers emerges from within the Republican Party, there is no moral or ethical way to support the party’s candidates -- at least for federal office. (Federalism still allows the possibility of credible Republican choices at the state and local level, at least in some regions.)

I can’t possibly describe all the ways Trump and his enablers have made the Republican Party an existential threat to American democracy. I will focus on five: 1) Trump’s demonization of the media; 2) Trump’s demonization of the weak and defenseless in society; 3) Trump’s demand for the prosecution of his political opponents; 4) Trump’s delegitimation of elections; and 5) Trump’s delegitimation of the rule of law.

Please note that none of these topics has anything to do with daily disputes about regular political issues. I am not addressing the wrong-headedness of Trump’s actions that have undermined NATO. I am not focusing on the stupidity of his unconcern about global climate change, or about his failures in healthcare reform, or his appointment of federal judges. I might critique all of those things, but those are the stuff of ordinary politics. Rather, I am focusing on forces that pull democracies apart. Supporting Trump -- and his Republican allies today -- constitutes a threat to the American republic.

--1. The demonization of the media. OK: all presidents dislike the press. Some, like Nixon, hated the press. But they all seemed to understand that the press was part of the system. They (mostly) all seemed to understand that the often antagonistic relationship between the press and the politicians was a key component of a functioning democracy. They seemed to understand that, as Justice Black put it in his concurrence in NY Times v United States (the Pentagon Papers case), “In the First Amendment the Founding Fathers gave the free press the protection it must have to fulfill its essential role in our democracy. The press was to serve the governed, not the governors. The Government's power to censor the press was abolished so that the press would remain forever free to censure the Government. The press was protected so that it could bare the secrets of government and inform the people. Only a free and unrestrained press can effectively expose deception in government.”

Donald Trump does not believe this. In fact, he has openly stated as much, telling 60 Minutes correspondent Lesley Stahl, “You know why I do it? [Attack the press?] I do it to discredit you all and demean you all so that when you write negative stories about me no one will believe you.” In other words, Donald Trump is engaged in an open, unrestrained effort to undermine the press in order to serve his own power and advance his own agenda. 

In undermining the possibility of a free, critical press Trump is damaging the prospects that any future American people will believe that the press can do the job it needs to do. Once all media is framed as partisan, the notion of information, of facts, dies. And no future president will face constraint by a free press either: what is good for the goose is good for the gander. Trump will not be the last president to rely on the “lyin’ media” frame if Trump manages to convince the American people that no one should believe the press, however imperfect it may be.

Notably, no significant part of the Republican party or its leaders are challenging Trump’s attacks on the media in any meaningful way. They are, if anything, promoting it. As a consequence, supporting either Trump or his Republican enablers threatens a linchpin of American democracy. It cannot be justified.

--2. The demonization of the weak and the vulnerable: The savageness with which Donald Trump treats his targets is remarkable. It has been a long time coming, of course: recall the infamous scenes in which Tea Party activists mocked a homeless veteran for seeking help during the 2010 midterms. But Trump seems to delight, indeed to positively revel, in punching downwards. Like most bullies, Trump focuses on people who can’t really fight back as he spews bile, hate, and mockery at them. His targets don’t just include minorities and immigrants, of course, but disabled persons, people -- usually women -- Trump decides aren’t attractive, victims of natural disasters, and, of course, even war heroes/prisoners/soldiers killed in combat serving the United States.

Please note that the research here is clear: when presidents demonize one group or other, many in the president’s audience end up hating the targeted groups more than they were already predisposed to. In other words, when presidents attack, public opinion measurably shifts in ways that reflect and amplify the president’s rhetoric. 

Trump’s disgusting, hate-filled rhetoric harms the vulnerable and marginalized in society in ways that you and I, who are after all middle class white guys, simply cannot understand -- even as we can empathize with them. And so long as no serious Republican challenger emerges to resist Trump’s vile perversion of our politics, so long as Republican doctrine -- not just Trump’s -- is to serve the powerful and afflict the afflicted, then supporting Republicans, at least at the federal level, is immoral. It also erodes the promise of the American civic experiment to discover if people of different races and creeds and ideas and histories can live together in some semblance of freedom.

--3. The demand for the prosecution of political opponents: Politics is a blood sport, and at least in elections it is zero-sum. My win is your loss. Yet most democracies manage to survive because a norm develops that win or lose, we have to respect others’ rights to participate, advocate their policies, and promote their points of view. Opponents are not enemies. They are competitors.

There has been an undeniable trend over the last 30 years to shift the language of political competition from “opponents” to “enemies.” Not all this shift has been concocted by Republicans, or by Trump, by any means. But Trump is the first president in modern US history to respond to political opponents by insisting that they need to be imprisoned for crimes against the nation. He is the first to systematically incite his supporters to openly chant for the jailing of a political opponent. He is the first since Richard Nixon to demand that the law enforcement agencies of the United States serve his partisan political agenda by investigating his opponents for crimes that they have already been cleared of.

This is the stuff that happens in crackpot countries. Newly-installed dictators purge their opponents, using the levers of power to confirm their authority. But in so doing, they make the stakes of any moment of political transition extraordinarily high: the game literally becomes all or nothing, since the consequences of losing can mean imprisonment. And since the stakes are so high, so is the conflict: no one can afford to lose, so they fight it out to the last breath.

“Lock her up” isn’t funny. It isn’t cute. Weaponizing law enforcement for political ends has profound consequences for the stability of democracy.

Trump’s claims that Hillary Clinton and other opponents ought to be imprisoned undermines confidence in the possibility of peaceful transitions of power in the United States. Until I see evidence that anyone on the Republican side is fighting back against Trump’s gross abuse of federal power, supporting him or the party that enables his abuses undermines the possibility of democratic governance as such.

--4. The deligitimation of elections: No one likes to lose. And gerrymandering, and manipulated vote counts, and other forms of voter suppression have been an unfortunate part of our political life since the Republic was formed.

But Trump has exceeded any other president in his all out assault on the norms of electoral politics. He claims he won the popular vote in 2016 ... once you discount the 3,000,000+ votes cast by illegal aliens. Against all evidence he continues to assert that in-person voter fraud is vast -- but only in those elections that he and his party members lose. In 2018 he described legally-prescribed recounts as efforts to “steal” the elections from his team.

All this, meanwhile, is happening when it is clear that the majority of vote shenanigans in the US are perpetrated by Republicans: North Carolina’s Voter ID law was overturned for its explicit racial bias, while both North Carolina’s and Pennsylvania’s Congressional districts were declared unconstitutionally gerrymandered. (Pennsylvania’s redrawn districts produced a balanced outcome; North Carolina’s were not redrawn due to time concerns, and Republicans in North Carolina perpetuated their 10-3 majority in Congressional seats despite the fact that Democrats in North Carolina got 100,000 more votes statewide than Republicans did.) And this doesn’t even begin to touch on the closing of vote stations in minority dominant districts, the purging of voter rolls, and the like -- all of which have been shown to be disproportionately burdensome on people of color.

Given that NO Republican leaders AT ALL have in any way challenged any of this, the entire Republican party is culpable in undermining American democracy as manifested in the need for free and fair elections. There is simply no way to vote for Republicans and also vote for the protection of properly run, properly managed elections. Voting for Republicans today is to support the undermining of free and fair elections in the United States.

--5. The delegitimation of the rule of law: Criticism is one thing. It is unpleasant, but it is fundamentally healthy. But demonization is another thing altogether. Asserting that law enforcement agencies are corrupt -- without evidence -- is corrosive to political legitimacy.

Trump, of course, is engaged in the systematic delegitmation of the rule of law. His understanding of the law is that it should serve his interests and his political purposes. His understanding of any investigation he doesn’t like is that it is a witch hunt.

This, too, is the enterprise of dictators. If the law only works for the powerful, who at the same time insist that they are victims of the law, then democracy cannot function.

And again, the actual Republican party, the one that actually exists right now, has wholly abetted this abuse. They have cravenly cowed to Trump’s rhetoric for fear of facing his tweets, the talking parrots at FOX News, and the hordes of Trumpizoidal maniacs who are likely to show up in primary elections. Lindsay Graham prosecuted the Clinton impeachment for charges ultimately derived from the fact that Bill Clinton lied about getting a blowjob from a woman who was not his wife. Today, he insists that campaign finance payoffs running to hundreds of thousands of dollars illegally spent as part of a scheme to protect a presidential candidate’s election chances are no big deal -- merely lies told to protect the candidate’s family. The hypocrisy would stagger ... at any other time than this one.

Voting for Republicans today inevitably means supporting the subversion of the rule of law. It means supporting the erosion of American democracy.

At this point, Trump apologists usually offer some version of the comment, “both sides do it.” Well, no they don’t. Not to anything close to this scale. Not organized at the very top of the political system, where now the Trump reelection team is being completely integrated with the RNC’s fundraising operation -- for the first time in US history. (The grift is about to get vastly bigger than anyone can even fantasize.) 

America is in trouble. It is time to recalibrate “voting against people you don’t like.” It is time to kill the modern Republican Party. It’s the only way to bring it back to life.

[arthropoda-artistry]

I don’t generally like discourse but I have thoughts I wanna get in writing, but first understand that my opinions are not etched in stone and, while they are based in personal experience, I am genuinely willing to change my mind if someone can compellingly argue against my positions and/or explain how my opinion might hurt them. I am not trying to control anyone’s thoughts, only get my own in order. Disclaimer aside, I have been thinking about truscum. As a transgender man, they’ve been in the community since “otherkin is inherently transphobic” was a discourse, and I acknowledge that dysphoria is painful and being transgender is extremely difficult in a large part due to our bodies. I am firmly agnostic about dysphoria - if you say you’re transgender I will believe you because when I was thirteen all I wanted was for someone, anyone, to believe I was a boy, and that desperation is a dangerous tool for abusers.

But being transgender is not the only experience that is made harder because of the body someone inhabits. I was thinking earlier, as an autistic hard of hearing person, the discourse around how transgenderism is medicalized reminds me eerily of how insistent some Deaf people are about how being Deaf is not the same as being disabled. Deaf and hard of hearing people, at least those I know and have read about, don’t want Deafness to be only medicalized because we don’t view it as inherently negative. Deaf culture exists, and, although I use a hearing aid and function similarly to a hearing person most of the time, in my mind the way I understand those people who argue that being Deaf isn’t a disability is that they believe that to claim hearing loss is a disability is to claim that their culture is invalid, that all disability requires fixing.

But not all disability requires fixing. Not all disabled people want a cure. Not all disabled people even know that they’re disabled (I’m thinking of my brother here). Disability also has a culture, this much I’ve learned from group homes and hospitals to special ed services to the Boston Center For Independent Living. We focus more on limitations and on differences than the general public does. We are forced to accept the bizarre reactions people have when they discover you’re disabled, the pitying and inspiration we create within abled people by merely being.

From what I understand about truscum, they believe that to be transgender someone must have dysphoria. Gender Dysphoria is a medical issue - it’s in my medical history records - and is treated the way medical issues are, by doctors who believe they know what your body needs more than you do. The other side believes that the stigmatized nature of transgenderism in our society is what causes so much of the mental health issues in transgender people, and we should accept that some people are okay with their bodies but still wish to publicly identify as a different gender than the one typically assigned to their sex.

The truth is, whether we like it or not, hearing people view being Deaf as a disability. That is probably not going to change much, because a lot of deafening conditions are also disabling, and because people like the conceptions they already have. Deaf = disabled in many able people’s minds. We have to live with that, and the solution that best helps the most people is to try to have the message out there that a) being disabled is not inherently a tragedy, and b) medical intervention should be allowed only with the consent person whose body the intervention is happening to.

Transgender people with dysphoria need medical intervention, this is true. And, in my experience, in attempting to survive as a hard of hearing person, I needed medical intervention for that also. Getting a hearing aid was a lot easier than getting a prescription for testosterone, and I believe that is entirely the fault of transphobia and the pisspoor insurance system America has. But many hard of hearing people prefer to live within Deaf/signing communities, and don’t want their existence medicalized. Likewise, many nonbinary and transgender people, for many reasons, don’t want irreversible medical intervention done to their bodies in order to be viewed as their gender. Any and all of these experiences are valid and deserve respect and recognition within their communities, especially because the general able cisgender public stigmatizes us all regardless of what we do.

Bodily autonomy is important. The medicalization of bodies, however, should be an opt-in, not inherent to any experience, because medical procedures can be traumatic, and so canbeing refused medical procedures. I don’t know what I’m saying but these are my thoughts on the whole transgender truscum shebang. Sorry if I made no sense or used logical fallacies, please let me know.

[nerdygaymormon]

I wish I could just fade away from existence. Just stop being. Life, I feel, is too hard at the moment. My church community hates me because Im trans and bi. My queer community can often be racist. My cultural/ethnic community often hate me because I’m queer (Im indigenous to my country and Italian). All these communities can be incredibly anti fat and anti disability of which I am both. It feels like no mater where I go people hate me just for being me. (1/2)

And then when I die I go to hell according to my bishop. I came out to my stake president because my dad told me to. He told me that I’ll most likely have to face disciplinary actions because the church doesn’t allow trans people (even though I haven’t done anything medically). I don’t understand why God made me like this if I’m so wrong? I’ve tried to change for years and I can’t, and now I can’t even be a member of my various communities. I just want to disappear into nothingness. (2/2)

————————————————————— 

I hear you. I recognize the pain you’re feeling.

My initial reaction to reading this is “what a strong person.”

Other people have been beating you up. Your own thoughts have been against you to the point you don’t see good in yourself. Youcontacted me to say you don’t have any hope.

This is the opposite of giving up, this is saying that “staying alive is really hard, please give me something to help me fight, some hope I can use to stay alive.”

That’s strength and endurance!

————————————————————— 

As your friend, I’m recommending you find a way to meet with a mental health expert.

Wishing you were dead is a form of suicide ideation. Therapy can help you with this. They can also diagnose if you’re depressed. Counseling can help with internalized transphobia/biphobia, with negative feelings & thoughts associated withyour disability.

————————————————————— 

I want to address each of the statements you made because I want to counter the negative messages in them. 

“My church community hates me because I’m trans and bi.”

There may be some at church who feel that way. I think the truth is your church community doesn’t know what to make of you. You don’t fit in their doctrine. Their doctrine needs to expand.

Another part of their doctrine is love. Their response should be to love you, even if they don’t understand.

————————————————————— 

“My queer community can often be racist.”

This is true. And people like to dismiss that criticism by saying it’s just their preference.

I’m not sure where you live, but many countries have racism embedded in their culture, and then it seeps over into the queer community as well.

As much as queer people know what it’s like to be dismissed and rejected over something they didn’t choose, you’d think we’d be better at identifying with andembracing other groups who face discrimination rather than perpetuate it.

————————————————————— 

“My cultural/ethnic community often hate me because I’m queer.”

Cultures like to tell stories about themselves and see themselvesportrayed in a particular way. People like to see themselves and theirancestors as heroic or noble.

Since straight people are the majority, it’stheir stories that get told. If they’re a minority group embedded in a larger culture, they cling to their myths all the more tightly.

I’ve been to Italy, there are gay clubs, even in little Verona where I stayed for a week. Cultures adapt and change and ex-pat communities often are frozen in how things were.

There is also a history of queer people among indigenous peoples but their stories are not the ones you hear.

If your cultural and ethnic communities hate you because you’re queer, either they don’t know their own history. or it’s time for them to be better and for their community to progress.

————————————————————— 

“All these communities can be incredibly anti fat and anti disability.”

Agreed. That is true of the general society and it permeates down into the sub-cultures.

—————————————————————

“It feels like no matter where I go people hate me just for being me.”

I’m so sorry that this is your experience. One thing I can say is that as you get older and have more control over your decisions and life, you also get more control over who you associate with.

Queer people often have to build their own families and support networks because we don’t find what weneed in the communities that we’re a part of.

————————————————————— 

“when I die I go to hell according to my bishop”

I don’t believe that. You shouldn’t either.

Your bishopis way off base. Even the notorious Elder Oaks says there’s a kingdom of glory waiting for you.

————————————————————— 

“I’ll most likely face disciplinary actions because the church doesn’t allow trans people.”

I disagree.

I have access to the church handbooks for leaders. The only thing punishable about being trans is “elective transsexual surgery.” That’s it! Everything else is within bounds.

Your bishop or stake president may not like if you start wearing clothes that match thegender you identify with or ask people to call you by a new name or use the restroom that corresponds with your gender, but those are not actions that bring discipline.

————————————————————— 

“I don’t understand why God made me like this if I’m so wrong?”

You think God sees you as wrong? I don’t.

You can get an assurance that God loves you quite separate from anything a bishop or anyone else in church may say. We like to say that we’re children of Heavenly Parents. Think of that. Do parents love their children? Even if they’re overweight? Even if they have a disability? Even if this or that? YES!

Why did God make you this way? I don’t know.

But I think of the story in John 9:2 when the disciples ask, “Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?”

In verse 3 “Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.”

Jesus came to be a light to the world and this blind man was there to demonstrate it. We in the church, in the queer community, in society, have a lot to learn from your experience. You help us to see the light.

—————————————————————

I’m going to share something very personal with you. Last October I felt Igot a message from God. I want to share part of it with you. 

“I sent you, and you agreed, to find my children who aretender and hurting. You are who I send to them. You are who affirms them and helps them with their hurting. Experiencing pain, rejection and disappointments prepared you for this. The need is so great and you have so much love to give.”

My pain, my sorrows, my years in the closet struggling to accept myself, that’s what prepared me to help others. My experience helped shape me to be kind, empathetic, gentle, affirming, and able to see when others arehurting. 

I imagine like the blind man in the New Testament, you are going to be a tool to help others. Just by being you, others are forced to recognize their prejudices. They have to make a choice about how to treat you. You help them to be better people.

————————————————————— 

I know it’s hard. I know it’s unfair. I know people want you to fit into a mold that doesn’t work for you. Trying to meet expectations of others in an attempt to fit in is a lot of work.

As you figure out what works for you, you have to draw boundaries. You have to choose to disassociate with certain people or communities. You have to look after yourself, and that includes cutting the toxic out of your life. You may not be able to do all of it now. Bit by bit your life will improve.

Charting your own path is work, but will be so rewarding.

You know why people value 4-leaf clovers? Because they’re rarer and different from the more common 3-leaf clover. You are a rare combination of traits. Just because some people can’t see the treasure you are, don’t give up on yourself.

In the movies, people who are different often aren’t treated well in the beginning of the film, but usually at the end they’re the ones who come and save the day. Maybe you’re a superhero in development!

[michipeachiii]

Hello, please stay safe and I wish you well! I don’t really understand what’s going on but you deserve happiness ❤️

Thank you so much Nonny! ♥

It’s a very long story but I’m gonna try to condense it as much as I can. I was raised in a doomsday cult. I realized I was being brainwashed in my early 20′s and tried to distance myself. Instead, I was outed and ostracized from my community. All the friends I had, my entire support system of over 100 people, was gone overnight because I was having doubts and wasn’t sure that I wanted to continue to be a part of the cult.  

Growing up, I grew up in a toxic environment. My father, an abusive alcoholic who left when I was 4. And my mother, an emotionally/verbally/mentally abusive and ableist person (I’m very positive she’s a narcissist as well). My mother has continued to be abusive over the years. Sometimes she says my disability is my fault, sometimes she stops talking to me for a week because I didn’t complete a chore when she demanded me to. It goes beyond this and I go more into detail on @michipeachiii-sideblog

My mom is still involved in the cult and she listens to the meetings on the phone 4 times a week (twice on Sunday, twice during the week). This is extremely triggering for me and I don’t have any way to avoid being exposed to their propaganda. It’s a negative environment to be in. 

Many of the cult members still live in my area and I have reason to believe certain people are stalking me. After leaving, I had more random/cryptic followers, suddenly elders (the equivalent of a pastor) were making accounts on the same platforms I already had accounts on, in an attempt to keep tabs on me and investigate who I was in contact with, random unknown phone calls etc. Am I in danger? Not necessarily but I hate the idea that people are keeping tabs on me because they want evidence I’m a sinner. 

The cult has a no-blood transfusion policy and my mom is the only “next of kin” I have who can decide medical treatment should I ever be unable to do so myself. I am against this but my mom would rather let me die. When I move, my boyfriend and I will set up legal paperwork so that he can override my mom in case of emergency. I refuse to be a martyr. 

I practice witchcraft and this is a major sin in the cult’s eyes. My mother would not allow me to practice freely. I am at a point where, I cannot keep my craft a secret? It weighs heavy on me to have to hide so much of myself because my mother would deny who I am? I’m also bisexual and demisexual, another big sin to them. I would like to be out IRL as well. I want to be in environment where I can just… be myself. I’m tired of lying and minimizing myself. 

To try to wrap this up… my boyfriend wants to help me get out of this environment. He and his family, brothers included, are on board and want to help me get out of this toxic environment. They all realize how much this is wearing me out. So for the past few months, we’ve been trying to figure everything out and get a plan together. The issue is, they’re halfway across the country. 

A couple of things have unexpectedly fallen into place, and they’re going to be nearby and in a position to get me out. 

This entire situation is really stressful, bringing up a lot of negative emotions and memories for me, causing me a lot of distress. I feel bad for orchestrating all this without telling my mom what is going to happen, but in the past when I’ve tried to have a conversation with her, she tells me I’m a terrible person, that no one would want to live with me, that I’d be a burden and a bother to others, that they’d be desperate to kick me out. Recently, when I brought up the fact that I can’t secure medical treatment here she was very apathetic about the situation and told me that I wasn’t trying hard enough to secure medical care. [more info here]

Basically, I have tried to have a conversation with my mom several times, about the way she treats me, about letting me move out, and about my medical care and nothing really seems to get through to her. In her mind, Armageddon (end of the world) is going to be here any day now, so what’s the point of planning for the future. And I can’t subscribe to those beliefs. She’s asking me to put my life on hold because according to the cult, “everything will be cured and fixed in paradise.” This and other things she says on a regular basis are very triggering to me as well and induces anxiety. My mental health is not… good. And it won’t ever get good if I stay here with her. 

If I let her keep controlling my life and holding me back, I’m gonna be stuck here until the day she dies and I can’t do that. 

[totallyrobophobic]

Sorry I wasn't trying to argue that Derick isn't potentially attributing too much negativity to Israel! I just ran out of room and had to smoosh it into my poorly worded comment about kids knowing how to be manipulative but it's not malicious. Like my cat can manipulate me into giving him treats, but I don't think he's being evil. It was more of a sharing my experience with kids being stinkers ask than a Derick leg humper ask

I’m not sure if you were requesting that I not post anything or if you were fully leaving the decision up to me, but if you aren’t comfortable with me answering it here, just send me another ask and I’ll gladly remove it.

I generally do try to be as non-assuming about my anons as possible. I don’t assume that anons are trying to antagonize me because I myself have sent in asks that came off completely different than I intended them to be and I know how it feels to be rebuked and worry about damage control. If I disagree with an ask, I generally try to keep my response as neutral/informative as possible because I value communication over needless hostility.  I am only harsh about a few things, such as speculating about children (especially disability speculation), wishing ill will on others (most of the time anyway), and comments about potential weight gain.

Also, I loathe the term “leg-humper” because I see it thrown around on Reddit when people say something remotely positive about fundies. I’m not about senseless hate, I’m about snark - I fully accept that fundies can have good traits and do good things and acknowledging that does not in any way mean I excuse them for the terrible things they may say and do. I find people that scream “omg you are such a humper” as distasteful as the people who are actual diehard fans. I’m not trying to diss you for using that term in this manner, I just wanted you to know that I’m not one of those really hateful and dismissive people.

Anon, I really am not trying to criticize you at any point in this post. I want you to have a positive experience interacting on my blog, so I am trying to explain how I feel and how I try to operate. Please let me know if you want me to delete this post. I just wanted to try my best to clear the air (if need be) and make you feel more comfortable.

[ecchima]

The Sound of Silence

Summary:

In a world where everyone hears music whenever their soulmate does, two souls struggle to find their other halves.

As far as he can remember, Hanzo has always been deaf but it's ok, because he can still hear music in his head.

As far as Jesse can tell, he doesn't have a soulmate at all.

Words: 8,1k Rating: T Warning: none Note: thank you to @delanbie, the McHanzo sanctuary server and my beta Soap. This fic wouldn’t have been writen and published without them! Art: http://delanbie.tumblr.com/post/170956941912/all-the-art-i-did-for-soulmate-au-from-the-mchanzo

AO3

Since the day he was born, Hanzo has been living in a world of silence. For years, no one knew why the young heir to the well-known Shimada clan did not speak.

At first, his parents thought he was just a quiet child, and the elders thrilled that even as a baby, their new heir was well behaved. It did not last long. When they noticed that Hanzo was starting to fall behind the other kids his age, his family tried to make him speak at all costs. Finally, after many fruitless attempts, they brought him to the hospital where a poor nurse had to deliver them the fatal news: Hanzo was born deaf.

A deaf leader? What a disgrace. The day following the news, Sojiro was called in front of the elders. Within the next month, Hanzo’s mom was pregnant again and nine months later, Genji was born.

They ran tests on the newborn as soon as they could, and all of them came back negative.

It did not take long for the elders to proclaim Genji their new heir, leaving Hanzo in the shadows.

When he was seven, instead of being sent to school, Hanzo was asked to sit for hours and learn sign language properly. He had known basic words, to ask for food or tell his parents he was cold, but even a disowned member of the Shimada clan must be flawless, and so he learned.

It was hard at first, since Hanzo did not know many words in either sign language or Japanese, but it brought him great joy whenever his father would ask him how his day was and he could answer with his own words. Sometimes, one or both of his parents would take the class with him, making his day even better.

Because of this, Hanzo did not have friends but he had something else, something better: a voice singing in his head. He didn’t know why it was the only thing he could hear, or why he seemed to be the only one able to hear it, but it happened nonetheless. Sometimes during class, or over dinner, he could hear either a clear and soft voice or a loud and boisterous one singing.

As far as he could remember, the singing had always been there and so he never wondered nor asked where it came from, or why it was the only thing he could hear.

One night, after a nightmare, he started humming the tune of one of the songs he had heard, unable to hear his own voice but feeling the vibrations through his mouth. It soothed him to pretend he could hear the voice singing. But he hummed so loudly and out of tune that it woke Genji up, upsetting him.

Hanzo tried to apologize to his little brother but Genji had dashed out of the room, crying that Hanzo was being mean to him and keeping him up on purpose.

Of course no one understood what was happening; Hanzo had never tried to use his voice before. When he told them he was simply trying to replicate the song he could hear in his head, his parents looked at each other oddly. His mother started crying and his father laughed.

They told him to go back to bed, that they would explain tomorrow, but Hanzo lingered. The elders weren’t around and Genji was already falling back asleep in their parent’s bed. He looked up and signed, “Can I stay?”

His parents did not even hesitate, signing back, “Of course.”

The following day, they all sat under the cherry blossoms and Hanzo’s mother started telling a story while her husband signed it.

Long ago, a young fisherman man fell in love with a woman whose singing was so mesmerizing that it was said to bring fortune unto whoever listened to it. He loved her so much that he would come by her house every day with a new gift, even though he was not particularly rich. He would bring her fruits, flowers, and on very rare occasions, pearls he had found in the sea.

She kept every one of his presents, and insisted that he did not have to bring any more, that he could come see her whenever he wanted. But every time, the young man arrived with another present.

One day, there was a violent storm and the young man broke his arm. He was unable to work but kept on bringing gifts to the woman. She begged him to stop, to keep what little he had at least long enough for him to heal, but he stubbornly refused.

She proposed to him then, saying, “If I am your wife, you will have no need to court me anymore.” The young man could not refuse such a proposition.

They got married on a beautiful day, had one child they loved above everything else, and grew old together.

The people in the village said they were so in love, their souls must be bound together. But, as the time passed, their health started to decay. The man’s knees protested when carrying him and the woman’s hearing started to fade.

Saddened to see his wife unable to sing or listen to any kind of music, the now-old man prayed to the gods, begging them to give his own hearing to his wife so that she could be happy again.

Upon seeing such great love, the gods agreed that two souls bound to be lovers would be able to hear the same music as their other halves.

When his mother finished her tale, she looked at Hanzo and signed, “I am so happy to know there is someone out there for you.”

As Hanzo grew older and became fluent in Japanese Sign Language, he was asked to learn the American one as well. After all, Genji had to learn English, so why shouldn’t he? And since he was finally able to understand his tutors, why not teach him other things? He was a Shimada after all, and Shimadas must be flawless.

Between being deeply buried in his education, Genji just starting his own, and with clan matters taking up most of his parents’ time, Hanzo started to feel lonely. He couldn’t ask his non-disabled brother to come home early after school and deny him the joy of having friends outside of the family, nor could he stay behind his mother’s robes, so he did what lonely kids with a lot of free time do: he started to draw.

Drawing was a nice, silent and creative activity that Hanzo could practice on his own, and it gave him a way to express himself without signing. At first, the only things he wanted to draw were cool and impressive dragons, just like the ones in his family’s dojo. Then he tried his hand at sentai warriors because Genji would stay stuck to the TV screen on Saturday mornings, watching those superheroes kick butt.

Practice makes perfect, as the saying goes, and Hanzo was a fast learner with lots of free time. At nine years old, he won an artistic contest after Genji had submitted one of his drawings in secret. The elders were not pleased, but Hanzo had a proud smile stuck to his face for weeks.

One day, as he was experimenting with inks, Hanzo heard a young voice in his head singing a song he had never heard before. It was a happy tune, the sort of thing he could picture Genji humming. The song was accompanied by some sort of instrument, but it seemed like the person singing did not know how to play it because some of the notes sounded as though they did not belong. Like that time Hanzo tried to paint a blue sky but messed up his gradient.

That comparison made him pause and look at his sheets of expensive ink paper. What if he tried drawing the song in his head?

During the following years, Hanzo mastered both American and Chinese sign languages on top of his other studies. Frustrated by his dependence on his hands to communicate, he began to take lessons in lip reading and, encouraged by his tutor, started learning how to speak.

Reading lips was hard, and learning how to talk through only vibrations was even harder, but Hanzo could always count on the music in his head to cheer him up. After all, one day he would meet his soulmate and he wanted to be able to explain just how much their songs meant to him, how they inspired him to paint… And how they kept him going.

He may not have been able to hear what people were saying about him, but he was not blind. He could see their fake smiles and hypocrisy from miles away. They pretended to like him, to be proud of him, but they pitied him. The perfect heir, put aside because he could not hear, working so hard to learn. How sad.

Meanwhile, Genji started to show just how little he cared about the clan, and Hanzo knew an argument was brewing about whether or not he should have stayed the heir.

Soon after Genji’s first attempt at rebellion -he had dyed his hair a horrendous shade of green- his mother grew ill and died. His father, facing an increasing number of duties, was all too happy to bury himself deeper into work to drown out his sorrow.

The only thing that brought warmth to Hanzo’s cold and broken world was the music he could hear from his soulmate. But even that was growing more melancholic and sad. He could still hear the musical instrument -his soulmate getting better at it- but more often than not, the music was just a sad acapella. The notes weighed heavily on Hanzo’s soul.

He wished he could sing back to tell his soulmate he was there, that they would meet someday and live happily. But he knew that even if he could sing perfectly, the person he wanted to sing for wouldn’t hear it.

As Hanzo entered adulthood, the music in his head changed. After years of sorrowful tunes, the joy he had heard as a child began to come back. It started as a rare occurrence, one song here and there in the middle of long stretches of silence, but it was definitely coming back, bringing a palette of warm colors to Hanzo’s paintings that hadn’t been seen in a very long time.

Suddenly, life was bearable again. Not quite happy, but good enough. Hanzo started to exhibit his work, and the elders were too busy with Genji’s rebellion to advise him against it.

Success knocked at his door -the people loved his paintings, both the sad and the happy ones. The elders let it slide, pleased to have good publicity for a change.

A couple years before Hanzo turned thirty, he noticed the singing in his head was becoming muffled. The songs were happier and more frequent, but somewhat muted. At first, he thought it was himself paying less attention to it, but soon he realized he had trouble understanding the lyrics when he had once heard them as though his soulmate was sitting next to him.

He started to worry: what if his soulmate was ill? It could be that their strength was leaving them… What if the gods had decided that Hanzo did not deserve this person? He had never tried to leave the city to seek them out, after all.

The days passed and the music grew fainter each day, almost unnoticeably slowly. Anguish rendered Hanzo’s paintings tormented, tortuous. He started painting foggy forests and muddy water, giving the viewer the impression that they could get swallowed and lost.

People called them masterpieces; Hanzo called them nightmares.

The last song he heard from his soulmate reminded Hanzo of his mother’s funeral. It was muted, sad, and made him feel miserable. After that, there was nothing.

Hanzo had always been deaf, but for the first time in his life, he was truly left in silence.

The first few weeks of complete silence were bad but manageable; when it turned into months, Hanzo started to worry a lot more. What if his soulmate had died? What if that last macabre song had been played at their funeral?

Hanzo found the silence smothering, making it hard for him to get up in the morning, hard to wash up, hard to eat.

One day, Genji entered his room with a bounce in his step. Hanzo wasn’t sure just how long it had been since he last left his room, but seeing his little brother admittedly made him feel better. Until Genji really looked at him and his features scrunched up into a frown, sadness and worry evident in his eyes.

“Hanzo, what’s wrong?” Genji signed.

He opened his mouth to answer but could not muster the strength to use his voice. He felt tears form at the corners of his eyes, so he tried to wipe them with his sleeve only to find that he did not have the strength to do that either. So he simply cried.

He didn’t know when Genji sat on the bed to hug him, but once he had calmed enough to feel the world around him, he found himself holding onto his little brother like a lifeline. He was tired; he wanted to sleep and never wake up again, but when he gently pushed Genji to let him know he wanted to rest, his brother signed again.

“I don’t want to force you, but you seem like you need to talk about it.”

So Hanzo did. They sat there for hours as Hanzo spilled his heart, telling his younger brother everything about the music, how it had started to fade, how it had stopped for months and how hollow it had left him.

Genji stayed by his side, rubbing comforting circles on his shoulder through it all. Once he was done signing, Genji took ahold of his jaw, making him look up.

“You know what? The elders don’t need us and you could use a vacation. How does a trip to America sound?”

It took some time to convince Hanzo to leave Japan, then some more time to convince the elders that the vacation was very much needed while their continued presence in Japan was not. But when they finally landed in San Francisco, Hanzo felt some of the tension leave his body.

Genji did his best to give Hanzo the most amazing holiday he could and, in turn, Hanzo tried to be less of a burden on his younger brother. There were still bad days, but he was doing better overall so they decided to stay. They rented a nice, modern house by the sea and started what they called their “second life.”

The elders called about once a month to discuss their “allowance,” as if they were still children, but never asked them to come back. Eventually, Genji found a job as a martial arts instructor in hopes of cutting the bridge between them and the clan. Hanzo likewise began working as a Sign Language teacher and soon their “allowance” was cut off.

Their only link left with the clan was their aging and retired father, who was all too happy to call them both to pass the time.

Eventually, Hanzo took up his artistic hobbies again, painting various places in the city. He could see the pain in his brother’s eyes whenever he showed him his monochrome ink paintings, depicting the world as he saw it: cold, uninviting, and colorless. He refused to use color; the cheerful hues reminded him too much of a time he believed to be over, of a world where he knew someone was out there for him.

A few months after they made the decision to stay in San Francisco and almost a year after the overbearing silence had started, Hanzo found himself humming. He was in the middle of a class, watching his students -people of all ages and origins- practice conversing when it happened.

It came naturally to him, like getting back on a bicycle after winter had passed. That may be why he did not notice it until a bunch of his students looked at him with weird expressions on their faces. He turned to face them and signed, “Is something wrong?”

They looked at each other until one of his favorite students, a young mother learning the language to communicate with her deaf niece, signed back to him.

“It’s just,” she paused to choose her signs carefully, “we have never heard you hum before.”

Hanzo shot her an incredulous look. There was no way he could have been humming; he hadn’t even heard music since-

That’s when he noticed it, that barely audible and rusty hum in his head. A muted song morphing into whispered lyrics:

Fools, said I, you do not know Silence like a cancer grows Hear my words that I might teach you Take my arms that I might reach you But my words like silent raindrops fell

And echoed In the wells Of silence

The rusty voice faded back into a hum then, and Hanzo found himself unable to move. The voice was definitely deeper and harsher than he remembered, but it was there, his soulmate was there.

Hanzo let out a sob, unable to keep the tears from falling. His entire class was looking at him then, and the mother from earlier started to applaud. Soon, all of his students were clapping their hands, congratulating him. Even though they didn’t know the story, they could tell it had something to do with his soulmate and they knew just how important it was.

As soon as he could stand up and hold his phone, Hanzo excused himself to video call his younger brother. He started to cry again when he tried to deliver the news, making it impossible to talk. After ten minutes of fruitless tears, he received a text from Genji, asking Hanzo to join him at the dojo.

When he got there, Genji cut his class short and lead them both to a secluded booth in a café. He got them hot drinks and let Hanzo talk as long as he needed, not interrupting even once, which was a rather impressive feat for Genji.

When Hanzo was finished, Genji gave him a hug and insisted that Hanzo hum him the song.  He did, with hands on his temple and throat to better feel the vibrations. It was probably horrible, but Genji listened and thanked him nonetheless before telling him the name of the song: “The Sound of Silence.”

During the next few days, Hanzo heard humming and singing a lot, but there was no trace of a musical instrument. He didn’t know why his soulmate had been silent for so long or why the instrument was gone now, but he suspected a pretty bad accident or severe depression. He tried not to think too hard about it and just enjoy the simple knowledge that someone out there was meant for him and, more importantly, that he could hear them sing.

A week later, Hanzo was sitting in their living room, dozing off while Genji was watching a documentary. They had the subtitles off so he wouldn’t be distracted from the scenery, content to watch as colorful birds performed some kind of mating dance on the screen while his soulmate’s humming played in his head. He burrowed deeper into their comfortable sofa, ready to fall asleep, when suddenly the humming got very loud, startling him.

For a few minutes, the volume of the humming varied wildly before settling on a somewhat normal middle setting. That’s when he realized: his soulmate must be trying out hearing aids. Hanzo grabbed Genji’s shoulder then, shaking him in his excitement. His soulmate’s hearing was impaired; they would be able to relate when they finally met!

Hanzo talked too fast and had to repeat the signs more slowly for Genji, who then grinned and told him that he believed his own soulmate had hearing aids, too. Hanzo gasped, unaware that Genji had heard his soulmate at all. With all his personal turmoil during the past year, he hadn’t even thought to ask his younger brother about it. It was time to change that.

“You did not tell me about your soulmate,” he signed.

“Well, I went to your room the day I heard them for the first time so I could tell you about it but,” he paused and looked away. Hanzo shook his shoulder again, prompting him to continue. “But then I saw you in your bed, unwashed and with the biggest circles under your eyes; it just didn’t seem like the right moment.”

“Well, I am better now and I want to know.”

Genji smiled. “Let’s get started then!”

After that night, Hanzo made sure to regularly ask Genji about his soulmate, learning that once a month they would listen to calm instrumentals while checking their hearing aid settings, that they sometimes listened to music closer to Genji’s tastes, and that one time they had spent a day listening to musical pieces from different periods in chronological order.

“They seem to have a very curious nature,” Genji said over dinner. “Although I’ve never heard them sing or hum anything so it’s a bit weird.”

“Maybe they simply cannot speak,” Hanzo answered.

Genji shrugged it off, asking him about his own soulmate instead. “Do they still practice?”

“Yes.” Hanzo smiled. “They practice every day though they are still very far from how good they used to be. I wonder if they broke an arm.”

“You said they’ve been practicing for, what, a month?”

“A month and 28 days, actually.”

Genji laughed. “You have it so bad, brother! And you haven’t even met them!!!”

Hanzo smacked the back of his head, laughing. It felt so good to be close to his brother. They had never spent much time together as kids, mostly because of the language barrier.

Genji waved at him to get his attention before signing, “Did you make up your mind about the art gallery's offer?”

“I think I will accept it, although I will ask them if they can wait until I have a more… joyful piece to offer. If my soulmate lives in the area, I don’t want them to think I am gloomy.”

“I don’t think they live in the area; from what you’ve told me, they sing way too many country songs.” He laughed but put a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother. We’ll find them.”

As time passed, more and more art galleries called Hanzo -they even had to buy a device that could translate the audio into text- to ask if they could exhibit and sell a few of his paintings. Hanzo accepted every offer except when a deal wasn’t good enough, wanting nothing more than to become famous enough that his soulmate would one day see his paintings.

He still taught sign language classes but not as many. Now that he was becoming famous, he no longer needed the money, but he didn’t want to let it go completely as he’d found that he actually liked to teach.

One day, an association called him to ask if he could give art classes to hearing-impaired and mute teenagers and children, to which he immediately agreed because he knew how hard it could be to find a capable instructor. Even his family’s wealth hadn’t lured any deaf-friendly art teachers, and he had to learn to read lips before he was finally able to study with a professional.

Two years after Hanzo had settled in San Francisco -and about one year after he started to hear his soulmate again- the music played by the instrument in his head was almost flawless. But then something weird started to happen.

Every day, for a few hours, Hanzo would hear the instrument play a bunch of notes over and over again, testing new combinations and different rhythms before stopping then starting anew. He didn’t really know what was happening, and he guessed that his soulmate had just decided to practice a complicated song, but after a week, lyrics joined in and Hanzo realized: his soulmate was composing a song.

It was a soft melody, the kind that reminded Hanzo of watching snow fall through the window while snuggling under the kotatsu, but also the kind you wouldn’t mind listening to to drown your sorrow. The lyrics were often half-mumbled as his soulmate was still trying to write them, but after another week had passed, Hanzo heard the complete song for the first time.

It talked about silence, how lonely it felt and how they tried to forget it, how they sang to fill in the gaps. But what touched Hanzo the most was the ending.

When I found out after, That sounds could not reach me, Then I realized that maybe, Your silence wasn’t meant to hurt me.

Hanzo felt tears gather at the corner of his eyes -they understood. When they had partially lost their hearing, they had realized. And they composed a song for him about it.

During the following month, Hanzo heard that song a lot. He briefly wondered if his soulmate had recorded it, because most of the time it had exactly the same intonations and tempo, while it tended to be more relaxed and less controlled in the evenings.

Hanzo very rarely had things made for him when he was younger. Sure, his family learned sign language and bought him presents, but no one had ever crafted something just for him. He never had friends outside of the family and didn’t go to school, so he never even got chocolate for Valentine’s day like Genji did.

Having something as precious as a song gifted to him was so inspiring that he painted an entire polyptych of five canvases based on the song. They were the first and only pieces he refused to exhibit or sell, setting them up in his bedroom so that they would be the first and last things he saw every day.

As months passed, his soulmate composed more songs and Hanzo painted more pieces. He became so famous that a museum contacted him to ask if they could organize an exhibition of his works. It took some convincing from Genji, but eventually Hanzo accepted.

When he contacted them, they decided on a date and asked Hanzo if he could come to their city for the grand opening. It took some more convincing, but he eventually agreed. He had never gone very far from San Francisco and never left Hanamura when he still lived there; maybe a trip to a distant city would do him good.

All things considered, the city was nice. It was noisy and polluted, but lacked the chilly wind of San Francisco and the fake traditional look of Hanamura. It was like most US cities Hanzo had seen in photographs, with huge skyscrapers, geometric streets, and big squares.

He wasn’t particularly awed nor disappointed by the city, but they had some pretty interesting museums he wanted to check out. After meeting up with the organizers of his exhibit, he was given a free pass that was good for public transportation and entry to many museums. They informed him that some of his art pieces hadn’t arrived yet but should be there in time for the opening a week later, and asked him if he wanted to take a look and move any pieces around.

After spending a couple of hours in the aisle hosting his exhibit, Hanzo was invited to check out the rest of the museum. One of the organizers stayed with him, talking animatedly about their impressive collection from all over the world. More than once, Hanzo had to ask them to slow down and repeat themselves, but he didn’t mind the company. It was always nice to meet passionate people.

They explained that this particular museum had a big collaboration going with the local music academy, allowing students and teachers to study and handle the museum's collection of musical instruments from various historical eras and cultures, encouraging them to think outside the box. Once a month, a music teacher came to play in the halls so that museum visitors could hear how various instruments sounded and see how they were played. At the end of their visit, the organizer asked Hanzo if he would mind having a little concert at the end of the opening day. A newly-popular singer was in town, having just finished touring.

Hanzo had no reason to refuse; he had never been to a concert and likely would never go to one if not for this opportunity. He assured the organizer that he would be able to enjoy it as long as he was able to feel the vibrations, and that it would be all good as long as they reserved a private spot for him away from the crowd. They thanked him with a big smile and bid him farewell, telling him to enjoy the city before the opening day.

So he did just that, visiting the city’s zoo and many museums, even bringing Genji to one that was dedicated to superheroes around the world. He also ventured out a couple of times to enjoy the local nightlife.

The day before the event, Hanzo went to the laundromat down the street from their hotel. He liked to do his own laundry with his own detergent. The one used by the servants at Shimada castle had always reminded him of his mother too much. Then he moved to America and there was no one else to do it for him anyway, except maybe Genji, but he wouldn’t trust anyone who used the words “laundry” and “Genji” in the same sentence.

They had only been there for a week, but he was amazed to find just how many outfits his younger brother had stained with sweat, drinks, and sauces as he started to separate the bright colors from the light and dark ones, making three neat piles on a bench. He looked around the place, confirming that it was empty before he started humming his soulmate’s latest song to himself. It was one of Hanzo’s favorites even though it didn’t have lyrics yet. It was an upbeat and innocent tune, like a child talking about their crush.

He was unscrewing his bottle of detergent when someone grabbed his arm, almost making him drop it to the floor. He turned and glared at whoever almost made him spill his perfectly fine and expensive bottle only to be met with an equally angry face. The man who had interrupted him said something, but Hanzo was too surprised to really pay attention -what right had this man to shout at him? If anything, he should be the one shouting!

“I do not understand why you are angry at me,” Hanzo said slowly, a hand on his temple to help him speak. “I wasn’t the one rudely interrupting your laundry time.”

The man answered and this time Hanzo tried to follow what he was saying, but the words were spoken too quickly for him to catch, on top of what seemed to be an accent distorting the motion of his lips. Great.

“Could you articulate? I cannot understand a word you are saying.”

The man puffed up like an angry bird, his brows furrowing further. He started talking again and Hanzo tried really hard to focus on his lips, but despite his best efforts, he still couldn’t make out half the words. Something...play dumb...something? Hanzo frowned, did he sound condescending? He leaned back to look at the man’s face, ready to apologize and explain, only to find that the other’s frown was gone, replaced by huge, surprised eyes.

Hanzo took the time to look at the stranger in an attempt to finally understand what was going on. The man had big brown eyes framed by thick eyebrows, and hair so long it would have fallen into his eyes if he hadn’t worn a hat. A cowboy hat of all things; he must be from the desert, then.

Hanzo watched as the man’s full lips shaped into a big, round “Oh.” He must have finally understood that Hanzo was deaf, good. Then why did his expression turn so hopeful? The man then inhaled through his mouth, pursed his lips, and stood there expectantly.

Hanzo heard humming.

As much as he loved his soulmate’s songs, now wasn’t really the moment; he didn’t know what this man wanted with him and the music distracting him wouldn’t help. But then the man started swaying, and as he opened his mouth to take another breath, Hanzo’s eyes went wide.

The man before him was totally in sync with the humming in his head.

Hanzo watched, mesmerized as the stranger did it again and, without thinking, he laid a hand on the man’s chest to feel the vibrations. His soulmate let out a breathy laugh and sang the lyrics softly. For the first time in his life, Hanzo could hear what he was reading on the lips of another human being.

When I found out after, That sounds could not reach me, Then I realized that maybe, Your silence wasn’t meant to hurt me.

His soulmate smiled warmly at him and pointed at his ear, where Hanzo could see a small transparent device. He could already feel the tears spilling all over his cheeks as he choked out a weak, “I know.”

Hanzo felt his soulmate slowly drawing him in for a hug and rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder blades. He held onto him tightly, trying -and failing- to stop staining the man’s plaid shirt with tears. The humming picked back up and Hanzo found himself so comfortable he never wanted this moment to end.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours until the man gently pushed Hanzo away and cupped his cheek, carefully articulating.

“You ok?”

Hanzo wiped his eyes with his palm and nodded with a smile. He didn’t trust himself to speak through the emotional train wreck this meeting turned out to be.

“May I take you out for coffee?”

Hanzo’s smile grew bigger and he nodded again before taking his phone out, opening a new notes sheet and typing, “I don’t think I can focus enough to speak rn, do you know sign language?” He pointed his phone towards his soulmate so he could read the message.

The man looked up from the phone. “Not enough to have a conversation, but I can give you my number.”

Hanzo nodded and opened up his contact information, turning his phone towards his soulmate again. The man entered the number into his own phone, a big smile splitting his face in two. A few seconds later, Hanzo received a text from an unknown number saying, “Hanzo, huh? That’s a pretty name. Mine’s Jesse :)”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Jesse. I would love to get coffee once I am done cleaning all these shirts,” he typed, hit send and then gestured at the two remaining piles of dirty laundry he came to wash.

Jesse chuckled and nodded, pointing at his own pile of clothes before typing his answer. “Fortunately, I have some cleaning to do myself. How about I keep you company?”

When Hanzo came back to the hotel at the end of the day, Genji immediately jumped on him, asking him what took so long. He grinned, lifted his chin and signed, “I may or may not have met an amazing man whose name is Jesse McCree.”

“Jesse McCree… The singer?” Genji signed and then stopped, his mouth slowly forming a perfect, round O. “HOOOOOOLY SHIT!!! IS YOUR SOULMATE JESSE MCCREE???!” He probably shouted, signing along with his words. “Hanzo, that’s amazing! They were talking about him on TV just yesterday!!”

“They also talked about me on TV,” he pouted.

“Hanzo, please. They only mentioned you once in passing because of the exhibit. This guy just finished a tour on the West Coast!” Genji slid a hand through his hair, the movement of his shoulders indicating a sigh. “I cannot believe your soulmate is a popular singer, I always thought you’d end up with one of those hobos who thinks they're cool because they wear dreadlocks and walk barefoot.”

“Wow, thanks, Genji,” Hanzo signed, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “I never thought your soulmate would be a disappointment, but I am starting to believe they could very well be an old uni teacher.”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

Hanzo crossed his arms and raised a brow, his face the perfect picture of “Oh, really?”

“Alright, I deserved it. Now tell me! How did you meet? How was he? Does he really dress like that unironically?”

“I will tell you everything, but dinner first, if you don’t mind.”

The next day, Genji insisted on being there for the grand opening of Hanzo’s exhibit, bragging to every single person he met that he had been the first one in their family to believe his brother had a real talent for art, making Hanzo’s eyes roll.

A few people recognized him and stopped to chat, with Genji helping translate when they spoke too fast. It was nice to hear which paintings they liked most, or which technique they preferred. A lot of them were art students, and a few others were hearing-impaired or deaf. He was surprised when an old Japanese man stopped by to tell him that he had been following Hanzo’s career ever since he won his first artistic contest in Hanamura.

He told Hanzo that he had been a member of the jury, and that he hadn’t known he was a Shimada until he showed up to claim his prize flanked by four bodyguards. He also told him how relieved he had been when he saw Hanzo’s huge smile and his brother loudly clapping to congratulate him, that he thought they were good kids then.

When the old man excused himself so that he could continue looking at the pieces displayed, Hanzo gave his most respectful bow and thanked him for taking the time to come over and chat. In the corner of his eye, he saw Genji do the same.

Around lunch time, Hanzo felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He fished it out and let a happy sigh escape him when he saw a text from Jesse.

“Hey! Organizers said I need to be there around 3pm, wanna grab lunch in the area? :)”

“Sure, do you have a place in mind? We’ll join you there.”

“We? You are full of secrets, Mister Shimada ✨” Hanzo laughed and had already started replying when a new text arrived. “How does Bacon Bros. Diner sound? It’s on 5th”

“What kind of name is that? :’) I can’t stop laughing, people are looking at me.”

“Just two bros having dinner. 5 feet apart because they’re not gay :^D”

“Except we’re gay”

“We’ll just have to eat only one foot apart then!”

Hanzo snickered and quickly typed his answer. “Perfect, meet you there in 15 minutes?”

“Sounds good to me! Can’t wait to see you again ♥”

Genji was almost more excited about the lunch date than Hanzo. When confronted about it, he pretended it was because he wanted to meet someone famous, but Hanzo knew him too well to believe that. Genji wasn’t exactly what he would call a “fan” of Jesse’s songs, being more into kpop, and Hanzo knew his brother had met his share of famous people back in Hanamura.

Lunch went well. Jesse and Genji got along pretty well despite a few embarrassing questions about each other’s fashion choices, and soon they were walking back towards the museum. A few people stopped them on the street, asking if they could take a picture with Jesse. A couple of them also inquired about Hanzo and Genji, but Jesse just put a finger to his lips and said it was a secret they could find hints about at the museum.

They arrived an hour and a half before Jesse had to be present for the last adjustments, so Hanzo invited him to check out the exhibition. The first pieces were sketches and studies from when he was a child. He explained that back when Genji didn’t know sign language very well, he found it easier to express himself through art, and that it was also an entertaining way to pass the time. In turn, Jesse told him a bit about his own childhood and how his mom always told him that music was important because it was his only link with his soulmate. He joked about not being very good at anything besides singing, and Hanzo assured him that he would be the judge of that.

Then they moved on to the paintings he did when he’d thought it would be nice if, when he met his soulmate, he could have something to give them the same way they gave him their comforting music. Jesse put a hand over his heart then and mimed being struck by Cupid, but Hanzo could tell he was genuinely touched.

As they kept walking through the exhibition, the pieces grew colder. Hanzo explained that he painted them around the time Jesse stopped playing the guitar -he was so happy he could finally give a name to that instrument- and sang his sad acapellas. Jesse explained that he stopped playing after his mother died, and that he got into trouble a lot in those days. He didn’t go into much detail, but it was clear Jesse was ashamed of that time period. It was okay though, they would have a lot of time to talk about it after they knew each other better.

Soon, they reached the warm sunsets and soft ambiance paintings Hanzo did when he started having his work exhibited in Japan. He turned to Jesse expectantly and the man explained that after a lot of trouble, one man saw potential in him and plucked his sorry ass out of the desert dirt. It wasn’t quite the freedom he craved, but things were getting better for him. The man who saw potential in him found out he could play the guitar and encouraged him to pick it back up. Hanzo also learned that around that time Jesse joined the army.

“I just didn’t wanna be no trouble to him, especially after all he did for me. I never finished school so there wasn’t much else I could do anyway,” he said sheepishly.

Hanzo hummed, probably too loudly. “I can relate to that.”

They walked into another room then, and Jesse froze only a few steps in. The room displayed all of Hanzo’s misty and darker paintings. They were a testament to his mastery in his field, but they all held an engulfing sadness that always made him shiver. He looked up at Jesse’s face, the perfect picture of shock and hurt. Hanzo’s eyes were fixed on the man next to him, who touched the tiny transparent device in his ear.

“Are those-”

“From when I noticed the music was becoming weaker? Yes.”

They didn’t linger in that room for long, too many dark memories for the both of them. Again, there would be time for that later.

They exited into a hall displaying the few pieces Hanzo drew when he moved to San Francisco. He told Jesse that Genji was the one to insist they move to America, and that those were hard times for him but the distance between himself and the rest of his family had done him good. He talked about how he started to teach sign language for a living and how he managed to get his life back in order.

He stopped in front of the last painting. “I thought you were dead,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Hanzo, I didn’t want this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.” He smiled before facing Jesse. “The day I finally heard you again, I was in the middle of a class. My students were practicing and I was watching over them like I always do. At some point, I noticed that a few of them had stopped conversing and were looking at me. They said I was humming.”

When Hanzo noticed the tears gathering at the corner of Jesse’s eyes, he gave him a side hug and patted his back. He felt the other lean into him so he kept his arm wrapped around Jesse as they walked all the way to the last room.

It was by far the largest of the entire exhibit, showcasing big polyptychs with bright colors. Hanzo stopped in front of each piece inspired by one of Jesse’s songs and tried to explain which song it belonged to. At one point, he tried to hum the melody instead but since Jesse was right next to him, he could hear himself and it just freaked him out too much.

“One more thing we’ll have time to work on,” Jesse joked, turning towards the next painting. “I was touched when you told me the paintings were based on the music you could hear from me, but these,” he paused, his shoulders moving along with a deep breath, “these are based on things I created. The songs I compose are mighty personal and I have no words to tell you how touched I am.”

“Did you notice? The set of paintings I made for the first song you composed for me are not in this room.”

Jesse paused and looked around, then back at Hanzo. “Where are they, then? Is there some kind of secret room we missed?”

Hanzo smirked. “Come over to my house in San Francisco and I will gladly show them to you. They are way too precious for me to trust anyone touching them.”

Jesse took off his hat and placed it over his heart, looking Hanzo straight in the eyes. “I think my heart just stopped.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon by an improvised stage outside. Jesse explained a few music things to Hanzo and showed him around behind the scenes. At one point, he convinced Hanzo to try playing the guitar. It was awful, his big fingers stumbling over unfamiliar chords. He didn’t know whether he was more frustrated or exhilarated that he was able to hear every single one of his mistakes.

About an hour before the concert, Hanzo was called to his VIP spot where the organizers had left a small bench with a sandwich and a water bottle for him. He was soon joined by Genji who had bought a bag of muffins for the two of them. Of course, his little brother asked to know every single detail of his and Jesse’s “date,” which Hanzo was all too happy to talk about.

A few minutes before the show, Genji joined the crowd, proclaiming that concerts were only good when you could smell everyone’s armpits and feel all those sweaty bodies pressed close to the stage. When Hanzo remarked that it sounded pretty gross, Genji shrugged and signed, “It’s half the charm,” with a toothy grin.

When Jesse arrived on stage and all the people started waving their arms, Hanzo moved his bench to get a little closer. He could see Jesse approach the microphone while clumsily signing, “Tonight is special. The man who paint are in this museum is deaf. I question his brother to sign along the lyrics of my songs.” Hanzo’s eyes widened as Genji jumped on stage and bowed, taking the signing over.

It had always been something to hear Jesse sing inside his head, but it was something entirely different to experience it live. Hanzo had a blast, not only listening to the music but also feeling the vibrations of it, making him feel like he was melting into the music, like he was part of the songs.

After the last song, Jesse leaned in to the microphone again and Hanzo looked to Genji for translation.

“I hope you had a blast tonight because I dedicate this concert to my soulmate, whose paintings are exhibited in this museum starting today!” Both the man on stage and the people in the crowd turned towards him. “Hanzo, darling, I am proud to be your soulmate,” Jesse signed as he spoke.

Hanzo rushed up and jumped onto the stage as fast as he could, throwing himself into Jesse’s arms. Their first kiss was captured by hundreds of cameras as they held each other on stage, but they didn’t care. They were finally united, happy.