Later that day...

@gotwoode​

Ever since he got the penthouse back, with the help of Xanthus, Deucalion had busied himself in actually making the place livable. Who would have thought that interior design would be so exhausting? He had taste, so his new home required to reflect it. However, he also needed to be outside. He needed a break. He needed a drink. A restaurant seemed to be the perfect combination of all of his needs. He had his dark glasses and cane. He knew it was wrong, but extra pampering was a necessity, so enjoy the host taking him to the table and carefully describing some items in the menu.

His ears caught the attention of a young man who seemed to be prey on by someone. He did not want to get involve, but was not in the mood to have creeps in his time of leisure. He excused the server and slowly walked to both young man. He created a story right away as soon as he placed himself between both men. He turned his wrist and pressed the length of the cane on the fan’s abdomen. “Son! There are you are. How rude of you to leave your blind father looking for you in this place. Good thing my ears are still good enough to recognize your voice. The young lady got us a table. .”

Plotted starter for @reliquiicis

It’s a familiar routine. A dance whose steps they both know all too well as Angel is sent up alone to Val’s penthouse. Left to wait as Val attends to business on some lower floor. What that might be, Angel’s not sure he wants to know.

He hates this room. It’s too elegant–too decadent–for what goes on here. He didn't always hate it though. Once upon a time it had been the highlight of his days, back when he was being wooed into this. He missed being that naive–that new. Back when he’d believed the sweet words and excused the lies. When he had thought 'this must be love'.

There is no getting comfortable here, but that doesn’t stop him from shrugging out of the coat that had been wrapped around him. Letting it fall to pool in a heap on the floor as he crossed the room to the windows–magenta eyes searching for meaning in the neon lights beyond.

Fingers finding the glass and letting the cool touch ground him as his eyes flutter closed, and for just a moment he can pretend he’s anywhere but here. That maybe he's back at the hotel and Husk is pouring him a drink. Or maybe it's Husk he's waiting for instead. And there’s a sigh of relief at that thought. At being alone for the first time all day. The first time he has a chance to stitch himself back together before another night of regrets. 

He’s not sure how long he stands there, chill running up his arms as he lets his mind drift home. Separating himself from reality just for a few moments of peace. Somewhere behind him a door opens and closes but the sound is distant and separated--not quite real.

Then a hand skates gently up his back, tracing soft spots through the open back of his dress until a soft, breathy whimper escapes him. Eyes flickering open in a sudden collision with reality as his chin is manually turned up to see that Val has joined him. That Val was the one touching him. And as magenta eyes sharpen and focus under a half-lidded gaze, he manages a flirtatious smile.

One more show.

for the fic writer asks — 7, 9, 14 :)

I did seven but

9. What inspired you to write your first fic?

14. Share a snippet. (WIP? Spain 3 and Conor/Mason if you want to skip to that bit.

My very first fandom was wrestling RPF which is like… it’s already fanfic. Pro wrestling is fandom, I won’t be convinced otherwise.

It had everything, sex, violence, magic, you could ship anyone with anyone… amazing. Although I don’t watch as much I go through stages of watching every week.

So becuase it’s me I think my first ship was probably the Hart family. So yeah, I’ve always skated every line of wrong.

Speaking of skating…The first thing I wrote (like aside from when I was a kid and wrote like thinly veiled barbie fanfic - she was not after men. I think she was with Sindy in one. I totally wrote one where Ken and GI Joe did whatever the ten year olds version of hooking up is. I think they kissed and got married. In a little diary.

And I had a whole saga where barbie got fed up of Ken and went off to be barbie of the jungle and all my stuffed toys were her minions. The jungle had an ocean view because I had a stuffed whale.

If I want something in my fics, I will make it work.

The first thing I posted was, oh god hockey? It doesn’t exist anywhere Mark Messier and Marty Mcsorely, was it the m’s? If you don’t know hockey one was the enforcer who protected the glamour players. If Martinez was a hockey player in that time period (although thinking back they were retired when I wrote them) he would be an enforcer. They met in a gay bar after someone ducked in from the rain.

I’m not joking it is only up since then. I wish I could say it was the second which was two juniors (think like Tino Liverermento and Lewis Hall) their first year in the league finding themselves and their sexuality and where they belonged. I don’t think it exists anywhere.

WIP

Mason / Conor “low winter sun”

There was an uneven distance between Conor and Mason. Deepening that last spring, when it was whisper upon rumour, and the whispers were as common as the daffodils that sprung up.

Slightly uphill, and a little off course. Getting out of breath walking with him. Shaving in the morning, talking to Mason’s reflection in a mirror. A tape delay, speaking across time zones. Throwing water in your face and looking onto him gone and a towel folded, polite as a hotel room.

Spain 3

It slips up on him, like a rush of cold water when he was expecting hot. Rio laughing and tussling over the ball with John, bright grin stretching his face, dark skin lit up like the light is falling just for him.

A slick greasy longing that he’s always pushed down. Held down by the warnings his father gave him, sniffing out Frank’s weakness as easily as he found him hiding from training.

Walking around Xianzhou still brings pricks of discomfort against his nerves. People have gotten used to his presence by now, but there are many who can't help but stare at his horns and his tail. In turn it causes him to be more withdrawn. Despite this, he was here for one thing only. The goal in mind was enough for a distraction and his focus on that one thing.

Where was he posted.. ah. He finally spots Muyang, seemingly speaking to a subordinate. He keeps his distance to observe and ensure that he wouldn't actually be interrupting work, waiting for the conversation to draw to a close before approaching him. "Hey." Comes a simple greeting, without much else as he hands him a small bag of gem biscuits. "I'll be busy, but wanted to drop this off. See you later." And just like that he turns to leave. Simple words from him, always.

unprompted. | always accepting!

✦。— The most turbulent of tides have passed but the effects of Sanctus Medicus still lingered like dirt upon tranquil waters. His duty as a Cloud Knight was to stay vigilant always, after all― to get rid of such filth was to cut it at its root. Weeding it out was merely part of the procedure that all of them had to go through.

Muyang was stationed at the heart of the Alchemy's Commission, delegating orders to his subordinate. Meticulous red eyes focused on the multitude of reports that were brought in as well; the status of the soldiers that had been injured or lost being one of many. War was never kind, he knew that, and yet― the long list of names made his eyebrows furrow.

How many more people did the Luofu have to lose for this to come to an end?

❝ That is all I have for you. The reports are well done and I will look them over. You may go. ❞

Muyang dismissed his subordinate with a nod, gaze never once lifting from the papers that he flipped through. Yet, moments later, the ringing of one's familiar voice made ruby hues shift. The man's eyes widened at his contrasting appearance.

A dragon's tail and a pair of horns, his short hair had been replaced with long flowing hair― many things were different about him this time. But the way his ocean hues gazed upon Muyang was unmistakable.

It was him. Dan Heng.

"I'll be busy, but wanted to drop this off. See you later."

The small bag of gem biscuits was placed in his hand neatly and the Cloud Knight's expression softened at that. Yes, they were his favourite snacks and not many people knew of it. A quiet smile graced upon his lips as he cradled the pouch in his hands, watching as the other left in a hurry. The way he spoke, the way he expressed his love― it was as though he never changed despite that appearance.

Ah. How glad Muyang was, to know he was still the same at his very core. To know that he had not lost another one today, another one whom he held special in his heart.

The Cloud Knight's feet started to move, picking up its pace to catch up to Dan Heng. A gloved hand came up to hold onto his, pulling him backwards until his back bumped against Muyang's chest.

He leaned down to press his lips against Dan Heng's cheek before resting his head on his shoulder.

❝ I will see you later. ❞ A pause, ❝ Dan Heng. ❞

His voice was low and soft, the other's name was spoken with a particular fondness. And with that, Muyang let him go.

After seeing all sides of the Moon, you are still you. | @etherealguard.

closed starter for: @isaacapatow Location: Empty room in the community center Orion had never been one for large gatherings. Admittedly, there had never really been much occasion for it before the outbreak - his parents were isolationists and they lived on a farm far away from most others. But even when he occasionally joined up with groups, the gatherings were one of the parts he always avoided if he could. He wasn't used to crowds - it was loud and overwhelming and something he'd put up with if he had to, but not anything he'd participate in out of his own volition. And yet here he was, out of his own volition. Well, he wasn't really at the party. He had quickly been reminded again why he disliked large gatherings, and slipped away into one of the currently unused rooms. His participation so far had consisted of quietly watching everyone, which was what he usually did anyway, and getting a red solo cup. Or well, two, after he decided to leave the party for a bit. There was this tension there, tugging inside his chest, ever-present since the last raid. Something he couldn't quite get rid off, that made him even more restless and... avoidant? He hadn't really been avoidant before, he just hadn't gone out of his way to talk to people. Now, he really didn't feel like talking to anyone. It felt somewhat good, sitting in the dark room, listening to the dampened sound of people talking and laughing. Admittedly, the alcohol helped. Two red solo cups filled with the hardest they had, which he downed over the course of the evening. Orion didn't get drunk easily, and he wasn't drunk now. More buzzed if it came down to it. It eased the tension inside of him. Orion was pulled out of his quietness when he heard the door open, a figure appearing in the entryway. In the dim light they were hard to recognize. Probably someone looking to get away too, likely a couple looking for a quiet place. It took him for a moment to recognize the person. "Isaac?" Orion was not quite sure what the other raider was doing here. Whatever it was, Orion grabbed his cup, still mostly full, and moved towards the door. "Do you need the room? I was going to leave soon." Which was probably true. And Isaac did seem like the type who'd use a quiet room at a party. "Or can I help you with something?"

hello!! Im hoping to participate in the dream interpretation game :)

Description-

Idrk how to describe this except it takes place at either my childhood hometown or my childhood home. The common factor that I've noticed all these dreams have is that there wont be much light. Its usually very dark. There will be familiar ppl but they looks very unfamiliar. And sometimes i see shadows in the dark. The whole place looks old and decaying and there wont be much stores or anything else (when in reality the town has a lot of stores) and the dream never takes place in the morning like in the dream its always nighttime or dusk.

Its not just a single dream. Its like a series of dreams but it always takes place in the town i grew up in (we dont live there anymore) and i always wake up feeling nervous or scared. Sometimes they're nightmares

Why i decided to ask about this-

I've been having similar dreams for a while and its really messing with me. Im honestly curious to know whether these have a meaning or not. I dont really remember much of my childhood because of some personal reasons but um thinking about our old home just gives me a feeling of uneasiness. I dont think i had such a great time in there either but no matter how hard I've been trying to remember i just couldn't and i don't know if my mind is just trying to tell me something through these dreams.

I understand if you wouldn't like to answer but I'd really appreciate if you did. Thank you so much :D

Hello! It's not a game, it's something like a "support-thing" that I am going to keep open basically always (or as often as I can). And yeah I will answer to everyone (I may just need some time more depending on my free time and how I feel), so no worries. ;)

You know, while I was reading about your dream I had exactly the sensation your unconscious mind is really trying to make you realize/work on something about your childhood. And in the explanation at the end, you basically said it yourself.

I think there's something you need to heal/work on (even not alone, if you feel like it's too much to bear with) to free yourself from this uneasiness and those dreams. You don't have to remember the exact event that happened (maybe it was a bunch of things that simply mixed up in a certain way in your mind, it happens): at time we force ourselves to remember something but we don't really need to know that to start healing; plus, it will probably come to you naturally the moment you will be ready to confront it (your unconscious mind will know it, dw). You can start working on your feelings about it already. What type of feelings are you experiencing (eg. why you feel unease just thinking about your hometown -try to not overstress too much if you cannot get that immediately: let it go if you don't find an answer and try maybe in a month or two- and how does it feel in your body? Is it a sensation in your guts? Or throat? Somewhere else?), how these feelings move in your body, what meaning do you give to them... and: are these dreams related to specific triggers you get during the day or in recent days before the dreams take place? Or are they just random? You can start by slowly noticing these factors (just please again do not stress on them or you will get the opposite result of blocking yourself even more... go slow). And, whenever you can, even if it seems so tough, accept your feelings and welcome them, without trying to push them away too fast: this in general will only make them rot inside. It's hard to do this cause it feels really uncomfortable and scary, but... you can survive that. and again, do it with someone else if you cannot alone. I think it could be good to keep a diary about the dreams and the possible triggers in your waking life, so you can see if they happen under specific times/emotional situations or just when there's a need to confront a specific feeling. and even journaling baout your feelings in general... it could help you put them on paper and give you a different perspective or process them more easily (you don't have to make good sentences, just write whatever you feel like and move from past to present as you like.. it will make sense in a second moment).

Coming to the dreams. Usually dark surroundings/nighttime dreams are the ones that carry the "heaviest" and more stressful messages. They are usually about triggers or situations that are rooted inside of us and may even come from our childhood, not just our more recent "bigger" fears/worries. And nightmares do generally share this same background as well: in the end, darkness is also what hides stuff and makes us uncomfortable, more hypervigilant and easily scared (especially our inner child: many -also adults- need a light to sleep for this reason too). Darkness is also where, inside of us, we hide the feelings/memories that scare us and we find hard to confront (opposite to shading a light on them, to welcome them and heal -which ofc, it's not always easy: everything has its time anyway. Sometimes some things need to stay in the dark for a lot before we're ready to bring them to light, work on them and heal... but at time sI think dreams can help us in this too).

This said, as for your specific dream, I think you're asked to recall about something you lost (maybe related to the love-field, even self love) or something that brought you a deep pain. You may have felt betrayed by someone living in your town or they hurt you somehow, which made you lose trust in them and this made you feel in some specific ways too, like angry or frustrated or sad.. or guilty cause you felt judged by them in a way that was too much to bear with. I think this could indeed be related with a trigger or even just mentioning someone that reminded you of this heavy emotional fact. But it could be something else of this kind ofc... this type of dreams are not very easy to grasp from the outside. I also think your dream wants you to notice that that's the past, and even if you may have not noticed it entirely, you are grown from it and you can let it go. You have already changed (and you can change even more) and you can stop letting it hurt you. Cause this is just blocking you from reaching something in your present life (especially connections/relationships-wise)... I think it's time for you to confront that, even just the words "some personal reasons" you mentioned to me (I mean, you can try to slowly confront those personal reasons and how you feel about them to start with).

But in the end, I feel like this stressful situation from your past (and even that you are trying to remember but not succeeding, which is adding stress and worry) is doing most of the job. Try to find ways to be more in control of your emotions and analyze things with calm and objectivity. And compassion, patience and love for yourself and however you coped with this trauma (you did as you could and did great anyway). Take your time. Again if it's too much, you can ask for help to someone else... even if you feel like you cannot for whatever reason (even from your past... communication issues? Idk I'm just guessing here tbh).

Take care, best of lucks<3

5, 11, 12, 13, I don’t think I asked those last time? Do your worst! 😈

5. worst discord server and why?

okay so i used to have a bnha server a few years back. i put up with too much disrespect from people who weren't even that nice to me lol AND one of them literally made an awful threat about mass murder in a walmart so that was...super.

part of why i left the bnha fandom was that server. i had let literally any one in so that's my bad, now i vet people

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

i've blocked two very VERYYYY popular ship names cause if i see them on my dash it makes me annoyed.

12.the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

So many people hate Elena and most of the time it's never because of real reasons. They'll shit on her for being 'annoying' or 'selfish' when she's literally a depressed teenager who is passively suicidal until later in the show. She's gloomy and not as expressive as say, Caroline, and instead of appreciating her for what she does offer, people put the girls against each other.

She is the main character of the show, because everything actually revolved around her for many seasons. Her blood, her love, her body, etc were desired by those around her and MADE her the center of attention. She didn't ask for it. She didn't want it. She's someone forced to grow up way too fast (she shouldn't have been in charge of Jeremy, Jenna should have, but Jenna sucked at it.) and when she inevitably fails, they crucify her for it.

Or, my least favorite, are people who worship the brothers that love her and hate her for hurting them. Firstly, why are they the center of the relationship? Why is the man babied and the literal teenager demonized? Embarrassing. Oh, it's worse when they love a ship with her in it but hate her by herself.

You are battling with a fictional teenager over a man who is also fictional. Stop centering men in your life lol seek therapy

Secondly, NONE of those characters were free of wrong doing. Each one of them has said something fucked up or selfish or wrong. I'm going to drop it there because if I said my full thoughts this will go on longer and nobody is here for that rn lol

13. worst blorbofication

oh my GOD. I love Klaus and Elijah, but they are uwuified. Once again by people who want to shame the women in their lives for stupid reasons. Klaus gets in his own way and ruins a lot of the good things in his life with his own two hands. I like that about him. We have all been there. DON'T sit there and go 'oh poor him he's never done anything wrong!!!' or 'his feelings were hurt :(' yeah well his feelings are often hurt and he hurts them himself half the time so...

Klaus is a paranoid, possessive, megalomaniac with both an inferiority and superiority complex and he takes it out on everyone around him.

Elijah might be worse actually. Some people act like he's better than Klaus. I think he's worse in some aspects. Klaus is upfront about his violence, Elijah is quieter. He's sneakier and hides behind his words and likes little games. He may be noble in comparison to his siblings, but he is not really that noble.

Elijah is the snake in the grass who bites you when you least expect it. Not all that he does is in the name of family. He's also so hellbent on his brother's redemption that he is willing to let the rest of the world, including their other siblings, suffer for this idea of absolution for the guilt he carries.

They both are vampires. They are over 1000 years old. Their humanity, their morals- both have decayed over time. Vampires are predatory by nature. They are the scorpions to the humans frog, they will kill/hurt because it is in their nature.

Also, I don't think they are the protagonists to The Originals. But that's another post.

@flyatahighergame for Seto

Atem had wallowed long enough. He did his best to stay hidden but the truth of the matter was every time he saw Kaiba, or saw anything branded with KC, it took everything in him not to march straight down to Kaiba Corp and ring his rivals idiotic neck.

How dare he use some magical item he had no idea how to use when he was constantly pretending it didn’t exist? How could you be careful if you barely acknowledged the damn thing powering your gods forsaken ship?

Galavanting around dimensions like there were no repercussions. Stupid.

He used magic he didn’t have to spare to bypass the front desk or well…any desk. In fact it was worth it to hear Malice rejoicing to just stroll into Kaiba’s office.

“You absolute fool.” He growled shutting the door. “What the hell is wrong with you Kaiba Seto?”

billy isn't homophobic; there isn't a single homophobic thing he does. the singular sexist thing he does is when he's fatphobic to the high school girls and implies they're cows. shitty but not unusual for a high school boy. as for the racism, people can acknowledge flaws & issues with characters & still like them. why couldn't they like other things about billy while disliking that the creators chose to make him racist? why couldn't abuse victims who relate to his edginess and anger dislike his racism & wish the creators had treated the character better? tf.

The thing with the racism is that it was done so poorly via one vague line, no one can agree if it was or not. Billy shares one scene with the kid and it's like 2 seconds. I believe the first and only time they interact is at Joyce's house when he tells him to stay away from Max (correct me if I'm wrong bc its been a while since I watched it)

Anyway, what I'm getting at is their excuses for us to dislike this kid are weak and all their arguments against him suck so bad it's easy for us to have our counter-argument ready to go. Not to mention they keep regurgitating the same shit over and over, all of us critical thinkers have already moved on from that.

A lot of these people also seem to sympathize with Henry Creel which I find laughable bc the guy killed his family just because he wanted to. He had parents who loved him and a nice house and all that shit and still, he willingly killed them

I saw another "hot take" about Billy recently from an anti that 'If he didn't already want to murder people he wouldn't have given into the mind flayer so easily' as if to say Billy was already wanting to kill people and the MF helped facilitate that 😐 be for real

Examples of said 'wanting to murder' were:

-Trying to run over kids (you're a joke to me if you think he would've actually done that)

- Max saying he would kill them if he saw them at they Byers house (this is an expression often used in the United States, not to be taken literally)

Long story short before I keep ranting. I'm going to like whatever character I want and I'll see you all in hell babes ❤️

I like how you portray Bull in your fic, especially his POV sections. Do you find Bull to be a difficult character to write? He definitely is for me -_- he’s just too complicated. How do you do it?

Oh wow thanks so much! He is so complicated and I love delving into that, but he is absolutely a tricky character to understand - and on purpose, too, just like he is for the companions in the game. I think I lean more heavily into his disillusionment with war, his PTSD, and his spy training because it's the part I understand and relate to better (moreso than his wilder mercenary life), having known and worked with a lot of old retired soldiers and hearing them talk for years and years.

I definitely have to sit on his chapters for a while and go back and forth wondering what he would think about this or that. He does not like revealing his secrets 😅 

This got long so more under the cut!

His sense of himself as a mindless tool for violence, his identity as Hissrad and as a liar, wars with what I think is an innate desire to help people and a deep love for his friends. It fascinates me. I obsessively read all his banters, watched YouTube playthroughs (the way he responds with bitterness when Gatt calls him Hissrad informed how I think he feels about that identity), and his history from the Wiki and just go from there. I’ve also read fanfics and fan meta about him that make me go “oh wow” and shed light on an aspect of his character I wouldn’t have come to on my own. 

But a lot of his mindset, in the fresh after becoming Tal Vashoth time period like he is in the fic, is figuring out who he is now that he gets to choose, which is also something a lot of young soldiers deal with when they leave the military. A lot of them join up young, either fresh after high school or even in high school with JROTC, before they've really developed a solid, independent sense of self. And then they have this culture of violence and strict obedience molding their minds for a few years, they're dependent on the military for housing and feeding them, can really only rely on each other, and are sent off to kill people - or at least train and mentally prepare to kill people.

But unless they're lifers, they'll leave eventually. Sometimes they're kind of lost and bitter and disillusioned with how they feel they were betrayed by the system. Sometimes they have lifelong injuries. And they might have trouble adjusting - like what do I do now with all this violence in my head, all these horrible memories? What do I do without the rigid structure and hierarchy telling me how to live?

I grew up in that culture and as a teen read a lot of war biographies like Band of Brothers, so that's the lens I see Bull through, and probably informs my take on him the most. I really love writing him and especially the transformation in his head we didn't get in the games, where he has to deal with that loss of structure, struggle mentally with it, and then slowly gets to develop a personal sense of self-determination for the first time.

It definitely depends on the “type” of Bull you want to portray - he has so many layers and I don’t necessarily think it’s wrong to write him in any one of those faces he shows to the world. I write him like this because it’s the aspect of him I best understand. You may notice how I don’t really write the “flirty mercenary chief with the vulgar jokes” version of him in very much detail because for some reason that just is way harder for me to do, lol.

I’m also consciously trying to show the Venn diagram of what he and a mage Lavellan might have in common. They’re SO different, so I like kind of teasing apart their religions and cultures and figure out how these two people might relate to each other. I spend probably too much time thinking about it tbh.

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

FNAF movie Mike meets Jeremy Fitzgerald

scorched earth.

a comic about a princess who died in a fire.

(this is a sequel to bite of winter, a comic about Snow and what became of her after her death.)

--

creative notes:

--

all my other comics

store

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….