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#i actually wanna see this fight
endusviolence · 1 month
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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.
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[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.
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[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.
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ruubesz-draws · 1 year
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So Shadow was just... seething and floating in the void the whole time???
Man...
*DO NOT REPOST MY ART*
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newttxt · 6 months
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i cannot believe i made it to gear 5 without being spoiled,,
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120percents · 8 months
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i just think it’s so funny that zoro does not even wanna comment on the usokaya situation when usopp explicitly asks and he very pointedly looks away when they kiss and yet he proceeds to butt in every single time sanji flirts with a woman or implies he knows about romance to redirect attention back on himself like god i wonder where your interests lie…
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monpalace · 1 year
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"i'm gonna talk about dilf twilight," "i'm gonna talk about yandere twilight," "oh, i rarely see anything on time, let me talk about him—" NO‼️‼️
i'm gonna talk about how in skyloftian culture, people who are proposing to their lover give a molted feather from their loftwing for them to permanently add to their accessories (like a braid in their hair, or pin in their shirt).
i'm gonna talk about how when sky would try to propose to his significant other (or friend that he's interested as more than a friend) not from skyloft, he's met with complete and utter confusion, but not unappreciation.
i'm gonna talk about how sky recognizes that you may not know the full extent of his gift, so he's bolder when it comes to his acts of affection. he tries to get the point across in a way that he feels they'll understand, also trying to incorporate skyloftian culture into it.
i'm gonna talk about how when they mention marriage, he prays you're talking about him— or when you bring up proposing between yourselves— he offhandedly mentions having already proposed however long ago, and how he thinks you accepted.
i'm gonna talk about how i'm gonna go feral if i don't consume any sky/reader content soon, i'm gonna commit several warcrimes 🥰
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i have learned what shadowpeach is! and i think its hilarious
sun+moon coded, friends-to-enemies-to-?????? duo is so interesting i wanna put them under a microscope
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rttenboy · 2 months
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im baffled about how so many people are suddenly shitting on transmascs for having the audacity to label our discrimination and making fun of terms like transandophobia and mocking us for talking about transmasc-specific issues and discrimination (which is a documented thing! and we have different factors intersect with our oppression than tma folks have intersecting with transmisogyny! and NOONE is saying that transandrophobia existing makes it worse than transmisogyny either!)
like what do you want us to do? are we just supposed to shut up and take it because us being afab means our problems are "lesser"? are we supposed to say that every other trans person has it worse so we can't talk about it anymore? what is the proposed solution here? mocking transmascs and harassing them and sending horrific anons to them isn't exactly a solid answer.
i genuinely truly don't understand why people are so upset about this and why it's such a big deal for us to label our experiences and talk about it when everyone was falling all over themselves to adopt new phrases when the terms transmisogyny and tma/tme started gaining traction. it's gross and weird. we're all siblings in the same fight here, infighting is pointless and a waste of energy. why are we trying to to beat each other down when this energy would be, y'know, actually progressive punching up and fighting the oppressive structures CAUSING these issues instead?
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Someone jokingly throwing Phantom’s hat into the ring during the next election and now he’s seriously competing against Vlad Masters to be Amity’s mayor
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the-kipsabian · 1 year
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cookinary · 1 year
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AU where, after being defeated by Chai, instead of exploding or whatever, the bosses get so impressed by Chai that they just
Join his side
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sukugo · 29 days
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this sukuna would be such a delight for satoru. he would push him down and make his way atop him, take his mutilated arm in his hand and bring it to his mouth, would lick along the forearm, rough salty scrapes under his tongue, trailing towards the exposed end to leave small kisses along the bleeding flesh.
he nibbles along the edges of damaged skin, runs a tongue along the protruding bone, gives small sucks on the heated flesh, blood smearing all across his lips and tinting his tongue, until he pulls away for a beat and swallows the whole end of the arm into his heated mouth. he sucks on it, bobbing his mouth up and down, like he would a cock, swirling his tongue, hollowing out his cheeks, swallowing the blood down his throat.
once he's satisfied, satoru pulls away and moves to a tear that cries blood along sukuna's chest and licks a stripe along it, lapping up all the blood in his mouth and leaving an equal trail of crimson spit. he moves up to sukuna's neck and his face, sucks on the thinned out skin of his cheek, wet and dry under his lips, sucks the blood pooled at the edge of sukuna's eyelids, kisses over sukuna's crushed eye and slithers a tongue inside the socket, all the while sukuna lies under him without permission to heal or push him off
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maukiki1 · 4 days
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This is dyguma to me lmao
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merethessc · 23 days
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can i spam post? Please???
first part ig
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keeps-ache · 1 month
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blood of the covenant
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acroagoraphobe · 1 month
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My pathetic ass Sole Survivor Having to bring around 2 armed men and wear a suit of power armor to be able to take 2 shots from an institute rifle.
(This is why he was a medic, not a soldier.)
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finnpeach · 2 months
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Hunt
(T/HRONE OF GLAS$ SPOILERS AHEAD! IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PAST Q/UEEN OF SHADOW$ BE WARNED!)
My love for R/owan is boundless, and the series would be infinitely better if he was sick.
This is a multi-part fic of A/elin and R/owan training on a mountain and YEAH! HE HAS A COLD!
not much sneezing yet but it will come I promise
likes comments reblogs always loved and giggled over <3
****
Aelin stalks through the underbrush with lethal silence. Leaves covered with dew from the early morning mist streak across her face, dotting her cheeks. Her prey, a mountain hare the size of her head, nibbles on the sparse grass a few yards away.
She knocks her arrow, slipping in a breath. She can’t wait to see the look on Rowan’s face when she brings back a hare this size. Slowly, she pulls the bowstring back, kissing against her face. The hare turns, startled, breaths coming fast. Now or never–
“hh’rZzSHHh’uh!” 
Aelin gasps at the sound that echoes around the mountain. It cracks like a whip, scaring even the crows nesting in trees. The hare takes off and she desperately releases the arrow after her prey. The point finds its home in the thick trunk of a tree rather than the soft neck of the hare.
There goes breakfast. Her stomach growls pitifully. Seething, she rises from the brush and goes to retrieve her arrow. 
Five minutes later, Aelin stalks back to the makeshift camp she and Rowan had assembled the night before. The Fae prince had forced her to run from the castle to these distant mountains, shifting in and out of her Fae form to master control, where he then informed her they would be camping for a week out in the elements. And she was to hunt their every meal in between training.
It was a pathetic time, especially with the rain that has settled across the mountain. Damp and cold to her bones, Aelin approaches their campsite. Rowan, appearing much drier than she, sits by the fire she had sparked earlier that morning. He looks oddly run down, like he hadn’t slept much the night before.
Aelin is sure he hadn’t. The mountains were too misty to sleep outside without waking up damp, so they had packed just one tent to keep their baggage light. Lying beside Rowan, last night she had been the private audience to his tossing and turning, grumbling, and finally his snoring. 
“You fucking bastard. You scared off breakfast,” she hisses as she approaches, throwing her bow and bundle of arrows down by the tent. Rowan does not look up from the dagger he cleans in his hands.
“And how – snf! – pray tell, did I scare breakfast from here?” He grumbles. Aelin catches the way he sniffles thickly, his nostrils twitching up with the force of it.
She drops her satchel, full of only a bundle of pathetic berries.  “You sneezed.” She tries not to give in the warmth that pools in her lower stomach at the memory of the sound. It’s the first time she had ever heard him sneeze, and she was not disappointed. “For someone so keen on silence, I expected you’d know how to sneeze more quietly.”
Rowan doesn’t even grace her taunting with a reply, or a snarl. He just continues rubbing a cloth down the length of his dagger. Strange. He must be feeling really tired if he didn’t bother to punish her for such a remark. 
She sits down across from the fire, on a log they’d rolled over so they didn’t sit on wet grass. Feigning interest in destemming the berries she’d picked, she studies him through the crackling flames. 
His white hair is loose around his shoulders, creating a curtain that shields the dark tattoo running along his tan face. The tips of his Fae ears poke out just behind the white strands. After weeks of training with him, sleeping out in the elements beside him, she’s learned that he prefers to tie his hair up. It’s so rare to see him with it down.
“More hand to hand combat training today, or magic training?” She asks, breaking the silence that is only marred by the crackling flames.
Rowan sets the dagger aside. “Your job was to hunt. And since you still haven’t caught anything, your job is still to hunt.” He settles his sharp green eyes on her, brows set. If he didn’t piss her off so much, she might actually tremble under his gaze.
She raises her palms in defeat. “Fine, fine. But if you sneeze and scare off my prey again, I won’t be sharing the catch with you.” Even if she’d very much like for him to sneeze again, she’d rather eat first.
In one swoop, she picks up her bow and arrows and satchel again before setting off. With her Fae senses, she could scent a herd of deer in the southwest. Now that would show Rowan. Perhaps she’d bring back a buck, and spear him with its antlers.
As soon as she leaves the camp, nearly out of earshot, she hears the same thunderstrike from before. Perhaps Rowan had been waiting for her to leave.
“hhzjHSHHhieWw!”
A shiver runs down her spine as more startled crows caw in the trees.
****
Two hours later, Aelin returns with a small doe slung across her shoulders.
It’s mid afternoon. She had been lucky a herd was still grazing so late in the morning down by the clearing. She’d been even luckier that Rowan had either gotten his sneezing under control, or learned how to be quiet, because nothing had startled her catch this time.
“Lunch,” she declares to Rowan, dropping the deer to the grass. He hasn’t moved from his spot by the fire. “Is served.”
“It was supposed to be– snf! Breakfast,” he mutters, reaching the dagger at his side from earlier. His voice sounds dulled, like he’s congested.
Aelin rolls her eyes. “Well, it’s not like you helped. And I got us a catch to last us days.” She pats the stomach of the doe proudly. It isn’t very old – there’s still a sprinkling of fawn spots across her back. Aelin feels a twang of guilt for not singling out an older one.
Rowan pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing through his mouth. Aelin hardly has time to prepare before he jerks down towards his crotch, a light mist spraying across his trousers.
“hiHh–... yHhZzSHhhyuu!” A familiar, rushing heat spreads through Aelin’s gut. She swallows, watching as he rubs his nose on his wrist and glares up at her. Is he going to get mad at her for his sneezing?
Rowan chooses not to comment on it, something Aelin is secretly grateful for. “You were– snf! instructed to catch something small. We’re moving camp this afternoon.” He angles the pommel of the dagger towards her.
“What?!”
“Rain is coming tonight and will flood this area. I told you this morning. And now you’ve wasted a young doe’s life.”
A flame of rage flickers to life inside her chest. This is all his fault. “Well, I wouldn’t have wasted jack-shit if you hadn’t ruined my catch earl–”
“Aelin,” he growls, a no-nonsense sound. The tips of his canines poke past his lips. Aelin shuts up immediately. 
He stands, crossing the camp in two strides, and shoves the pommel of the knife against her stomach. She glares beneath his gaze. “You missed the catch because you did not act fast enough. Now you can either carry the doe across the mountain, or… hhH—!” His breath snags, eyes looking off into the distance for a split second. Aelin’s heart hammers in her chest.
He quickly recovers and sniffs again, much to her disappointment, and focuses his gaze on her. “Or you can leave it and realise you wasted a young animal’s life for your pride.” 
Before she can retort, he turns on his heel and she offers a middle finger to his large, muscular back. 
As if sensing her, he says over his shoulder, “And– sNf!– pack up the tent.”
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