#link in my bio

[thetomorrowshow]

when you had nothing to say

CHAPTER 3

uhhh if this is the first one you see it's a fic in which the world where the evolutionists all started on descended into war. after fighting in the war for several years, they fled to evo together. this fic is a 5+1 about 5 times that someone found out Jimmy was Deaf and 1 time he was accommodated :)

cw: internalized ableism

~

Jimmy wakes up in bed, gasping for stolen breath.

He’s still shaking from that death, his heart beating too fast. How had that—he’d thought it would be safe to touch, he hadn’t thought—

He checks his communicator.

Ren and Skizz down, too.

How much of an idiot—?

Jimmy messages an apology into chat, tries to shake off the feeling of exploding. It’s one of his least favorite ways to die, getting blown into bits all over the place. Even on worlds like these, where they respawn. He hates tnt.

Jimmy sits on his bed for too long, probably, just trying to catch his breath after such an intense end. He didn’t like that. Holy moly, he didn’t like that at all.

Get up, he tells himself. Come on, get up, go do something.

He doesn’t.

It’s too overwhelming, is all. He’s fine, he’s fine, he just needs a minute to sort himself out before he can bear to leave this room. He needs a minute to gather his thoughts, blown apart by the explosion just like his body—

A minute grows into two, into three, into. . . .

He isn’t sure how long he sits there, but soon enough, his door opens, and Scott, Grian, and Scar file in.

Jimmy straightens, trying to look like he hadn’t just been staring into space, limbs trembling and mind flashing through with memories. They don’t seem to notice, judging by the lack of anything but gleeful pity on their faces. Good.

Grian’s mouth moves, his voice muffled and near-silent. Jimmy frowns—he hadn’t even realized his hearing aids weren’t on. He clicks on the power on the left piece, then the right—but the right one pops painfully and he hisses, turning it back off.

He takes it out, turns it this way and that. It looks okay—he turns it on in his hand and it sparks once, but otherwise seems fine.

Jimmy carefully fits the hearing aid back in his ear, then looks up. All three of his friends are watching him, and Grian raises his eyebrows.

“All good?” he asks, but Jimmy doesn’t hear it.

He clicks off the left one again, panic sprouting in his chest. They can’t be broken. They can’t, they just can’t, he can’t afford another pair—

Turning the left one back on doesn’t do anything, though. Turning off and on the right one doesn’t do anything but make it spark again.

“My hearing aids are broken,” he manages, his throat tightening. “I—I don’t have spares. The explosion—”

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening! He’s been exploded loads of times, why did this one break his hearing aids?

Grian’s shoulders slump; Scott won’t stop staring at his ears. Grian takes his communicator out of his pocket, types out a message. A moment later, Jimmy’s own communicator vibrates on his hip.

Sorry, I don’t remember any sign. Do you need to drop out of the game?

“I can keep playing,” he says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I’ve been deaf for a long time, I—I know how to deal with it. I just . . . being able to hear is helpful.”

Grian fixes him with a sympathetic expression. Scar wheels himself over, squeezes Jimmy’s hand.

“You’ve got this,” he says. “All you . . . okay?”

“I missed most of that.”

Scar just squeezes his hand again.

When Grian and Scar leave, Grian with promises to help pay for a new pair, Scott comes over to Jimmy’s bed and sits beside him, typing out a message on his communicator.

I didn’t know that you’re deaf.

“I don’t really hide it,” says Jimmy. “I don’t go around shouting about it, but it isn’t a secret.”

Why didn’t you tell me?

Absentmindedly, to help gather his thoughts in a quiet world, Jimmy starts to sign as he speaks. “Never came up, I guess. I just assume people already know—but now that I think about it—”

He considers it for a moment.

“Um, now you know,” he counts off his fingers. “Grian, Scar, Martyn, BigB. I think that’s it, though.”

Had he really told so few people?

It isn’t quite the truth, really, that it never came up. There were plenty of opportunities over the past weeks to talk about his hearing loss, to explain why sometimes he asked Scott to repeat himself multiple times, or why he usually didn’t hear calls of his name.

He avoided it, though, even if he didn’t have a real reason to. Did he need a reason to not give others a weakness to exploit? Did he need a reason to let others know this truly vulnerable part of himself?

It explains your lisp.

“I have a lisp?” Jimmy exclaims. Grian had always told him he was perfectly understandable, and Martyn didn’t say anything, and nobody else has ever seemed to realize that he was deaf.

It’s not bad, you just kind of over-do the s sound.

He never even knew. That’s so—that’s so weird! He’s had a lisp, apparently, and no one told him.

“That’s so weird,” he says, fidgeting a bit with the torn hem of his shirt. “But—erm, I’ll probably be a pretty useless ally, now. Sorry, you’re on your own.”

He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to be alone in this, when he can’t hear a thing in a world full of hearing people. It’s lonely, so dreadfully lonely, and it always has been. He doesn’t want to go back to that. He never wanted to.

He refuses to drag Scott down any more than he already has, though.

“You can use my house as storage, or something,” Jimmy says, though he still can’t quite find it within himself to get up. “I’ll be out of here by the end of the day.”

Maybe Scar and Grian will take him in? To use as bait, if nothing else. Grian knows how to be a good friend, anyhow—he’s been in circles where people just have no clue how to treat a Deaf person and just end up ignoring them. Grian’s heard Jimmy rant about far too many times to let it happen. Otherwise, he’d prefer being on his own.

Scott taps him on the arm, and Jimmy pulls himself out of his thoughts of the desert and isolation to look at his communicator, held in front of his face.

What are you talking about?

Jimmy doesn’t have an answer for that. He thought it was pretty clear.

He shrugs. Scott types something else out.

You’re staying. You’re my flower husband, I’m not just going to leave you.

Oh.

Jimmy doesn’t expect help. He doesn’t expect that everyone should be forced to work to make things easier for him, when it’s already fine for everybody else. They shouldn’t have to make exceptions just for him.

But Scott . . . Scott doesn’t care?

Scott’s already sitting beside Jimmy, but now he wraps his arm around him, presses gently on his shoulder until Jimmy lets his head fall onto Scott’s chest. It’s—it’s—

It’s warm, is what it is. Warm, and a little bit gritty with dirt but soft, and Scott smells like sweat and gunpowder and flowers, and his chest is vibrating under Jimmy’s temple as he speaks, and Jimmy. . . .

It’s really nice after the shellshock of the explosion, is all. Jimmy doesn’t think he can be blamed when a tear slips from the corner of his eye.

Scott lets him sit there as long as he likes, and it’s just really nice. He finds stability, he thinks, so that his weakest parts can stitch themselves together again after the disaster of today.

Geez, he can’t believe he died twice. . . .

“Guess we’d better get to work,” Jimmy finally says, after what is definitely way too much time of hugging Scott. “Erm, I can lip read all right? But I need you right in front of me and talking loudly. Otherwise, you can just message me.”

Scott lets Jimmy sit up, then helps him to stand, taking his hands in his own. Looking Jimmy square in the face, he speaks, loud enough that Jimmy can match some of the quiet sounds to the movements of his mouth.

“We’ve got this.”

Jimmy tries (and fails) to suppress his smile. “Yeah, we do,” he agrees. “We’ve got this.”

[screechingfromthevoid]

The reviews are in folks shit hurted

[caught-in-a-landslide]

Here, have some Road 96 Fanart with my Ocs of the game.

[snowlyx]

Amy furry Gijinka thing based on the Gacha design I made.

I gave her fur ears because why not.

Wait this only took 1h 39m?

[chemicaljupiter]

new video about my bucket list

[nudjismo]

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[manitapaleta]

Historians will say they were roommates

[biby-24k]

viktor

[0utlaw-t0rn]

an Ethel Cain inspired sketchbook page I did back in March

@mothercain

[panelshowsource]

# i'm not angry i'm just disappointed

[gleafer]

Oh MER GERD!

THE DRAMAAAAAA!

Aziraphale and Crowley’s attempt at a peaceful date is blowing up in their faces like Jiffy Pop in a microwave!

Mr. Brown is macking and Lucifer’s lips are attackin’!

Join my Patreon (all tiers) and enjoy The Date Night!Final chapter dropping soon

[1spliff]

[esteljune]

Imagine being on the couch with Soap, his body entrusted to you without hesitation.

His crested head resting against your sternum, his broad back pressed against your stomach as the boy's calloused hands cling to your thighs.

Despite being together for a while, Johnny is still nervous to talk to you about his work because there's not much he can tell you, and he's afraid that even that little bit might push you away from him.

He doesn't doubt his own conviction, but he knows it's a choice that doesn't belong to you. He manages to spit out some information about his explosives training, his sniper training, and why they call him Soap.

When he realizes that you don't care whether he's Johnny or Soap, but that he'll always be safe with you, he can't hold back his tongue. He feels a million things, some he's never felt before, others he wouldn't even know how to name.

"Would ye believe me if I told ye I've never been as nervous in front of a bomb as I am now talking about my work tae ye?" he confesses impulsively.

"Yes. Your heart is racing, Johnny." you smile tapping your index finger on his left chest.

"Ah... Away n' bile yer heid." he curses under his breath, because it's true.

He manages to control his breathing and heartbeat long enough to put a bullet in someone's head from dozens of meters away, but he can't control himself in front of a simple conversation with you.

[aurabirds]

☀️ Dawnlord Astarion ☀️

[nothorses]

a transmasc only discord server is kind of fucking weird tbh. you call transfems seperationists for voicing their unique oppressions and then get pissy and make a server where you can just circle jerk and pat each other on the back, never questioning your transmisogyny? i think people can see who the true “seperationists” are.

About a year ago the queer black woman leading the organization we were working to start asked me and the other white people working with her to lead an affinity group that white families joining the org would be required to participate in, and which would read and discuss anti-racist/anti-white supremacist literature together, as a way of protecting space for black & brown staff, families, and program participants.

She stressed that it was important for this to be specific to white people, and explained that she wanted to start a parallel one for people of color involved in the org, because those conversations are really different between those groups. Importantly, the kind of honesty and vulnerability required to effectively unpack white supremacy culture is, well, generally not safe (or often possible) for people of color to embody in a space where white people are unpacking their own white supremacist ways of thinking and acting- even if they're doing it in an explicitly anti-racist context.

This is derived from the idea of "affinity groups", often specifically "identity affinity groups", which are commonly used in activist spaces and workplaces seeking to dismantle oppressive systems and culture from within. The idea is that creating spaces specific to identities allows for conversations about personal experiences with oppression that would be difficult to hold otherwise; both for those who have been harmed, and those who have done harm. It's not an end-all be-all kind of tool, but it can definitely be helpful.

In the context of marginalized identities, these kinds of spaces can also be a really great way of facilitating community-building, especially where there is a capacity for establishing positive cultural norms in the process (like not tolerating certain kinds of bigotry, especially if you also make space to express, challenge, and unpack bigoted ideas).

Transmascs, as a group, historically struggle to connect with community. Invisibility coupled with the isolating nature of queerness (as a marginalized identity that emerges later in life, and generally not through genetics), and in particular the way transness tends to funnel into a desire to "pass" & further isolates folks by preventing them from even identifying one another, contributes to this naturally. There's also a phenomena in which feminist and queer community spaces tend to be hostile towards anyone they perceive as "masculine", and therefore threatening. This includes transmascs (esp. those who are or have transitioned) and transfems (esp. those who are pre-transition/non-transitioning or butch), along with plenty of other groups (black people especially).

Thus, a transmasc-specific server serves a few purposes:

It acts as a space for transmascs to discuss our unique experiences with lessened anxiety around accidentally phrasing something in a way that does harm to others in the space

It acts as a space for transmascs to challenge one another on bigoted or harmful ideas, which may be better received coming from someone who shares some of those personal experiences- and is often easier given from a person who is not personally hurt by what was said/done.

It acts as a space for transmascs to build community with other transmascs

It establishes positive community norms early in that process, which often carry outside of that space and into others.

Among lots of other things!

Identity affinity groups aren't the end-all be-all; it's important for folks to interact, connect, and build community with people from a diversity of backgrounds, experiences, and perspectives. That's how we grow, and it's part of how we make sure the ideas we have about the world include and account for everyone.

Trans experiences have been absent from a huge portion of feminist theory; earlier theory especially. That- and the exclusion of black & brown experiences- is how we got radfeminism. Also known as second wave feminism, which preceded the inclusion of intersectionality that defined the third wave.

Transmasc experiences have been absent from a huge portion of trans theory; this isn't a conspiracy or anything, it's something Julia Serano acknowledges in the opening pages of Whipping Girl (even though she also goes on to make assumptions about experiences not her own anyway).

My opinion is that community-building is an essential step in promoting the inclusion of transmasc perspectives on a larger scale: it gives transmascs a space to identify patterns in their experiences. We can then take our observations into diverse communities, where we can identify similarities and differences in how others are treated, learn from one another, and cultivate a more complete understanding of oppression across all demographics.

Your ask makes me think you're not really interested in all of this- and you were instead just looking to make me feel or look bad (or perhaps just make yourself feel good)- but maybe I'm wrong! I would love to be wrong. Or maybe someone else will learn from this instead.

[0utlaw-t0rn]

scanned version of this collage. there’s a lot of little details in this that show up really well on the scan.

@mothercain