so i had a dream last night about a svsss bingqiu dating sim story set post-epilogue where Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe hadnt gotten together. idk how that would even be set up but like maybe they stopped Maigu ridge but didnt bone but its still revealed Binghe is into Shen Qingqiu, and now its in the peace afterwards where things have more or less gone back together and Shen Qingqiu has finished his sexuality crisis and decided he absolutely needs Binghe to rail him
and so its this situation of Shen Qingqiu in a dating sim, but his only romance route is Binghe and hes just trying to select the correct dialogue route to getting rawed over the nearest desk except he has no romantic experience except reading godawful stuff like PIDW and so he keeps fucking it up by saying the most unhinged shit, and it keeps making Binghe blush and run away or misunderstand him because hes so used to Shen Qingqiu being dense and misunderstanding all flirting that now that Shen Qingqiu is explicitly and deliberately trying to flirt with him he keeps explaining it away
and so Shen Qingqiu is like tearing out his hair and choosing increasingly more unhinged dialogue options and dressing in increasingly raunchy clothes to try and get Binghe to do something and its just like. 10000% pure crack
And its like
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Shen Qingqiu sitting across from Binghe, the two them drinking wine together after dinner. The hour is late, the day stretching long and the two of them enjoying their rest after a day of endless meetings. The breeze is sweet with the scent of golden night jasmine, the candle light is dim and intimate.
Shen Qingqiu bites his tongue, an impatient itch running up his spine. It's a fine evening, but he can't enjoy it - all day it's felt like his nerves have been ground down to a find powder. All week, his nerves have been ground down. He just about tastes his impatience now, so thick its grown, its given a physical taste in his mouth.
He glances at the dialogue boxes hovering before him resentfully.
1. BOLD. "This master is tired of waiting. He has wanted Binghe too long." [Lean over and kiss him.]
2. EXTRA BOLD. [Let your actions speak for you! Start removing clothing and reach for him! Get it started!]
3. SUGGESTIVE. "Binghe has been a good boy. Why not allow this master to show his favor?" [Glance demurely at Binghe's crotch.]
4. SLY. "How have Binghe's energy levels been? Is he he still feeling unbalanced from Xin Mo? Perhaps this master can help..." [Offer dual cultivation.]
5. COP OUT. The weather is fine today, is it not?
And Binghe sits up, eyes softening, touched by Shen Qingqiu's concern. A soft ping rings out, an alert appearing in the corner of Shen Qingqiu's vision [+15 affection points]. Still, he appears a bit abashed, ducking his head.
"Ah, shizun need not worry. Mu-shishu has been taking care of this disciple - this disciple has been meditating each morning in the spiritual caves," Luo Binghe says, hurrying to reassure Shen Qingqiu and completely missing the point. "Shizun shouldn't concern himself - he has his own energies to worry about. Has Without A Cure been acting up again?"
Fuck Without A Cure!! Shen Qingqiu almost screams. This isn't about that! Tens of millions of words of Binghe fighting and fucking his way through the plot of PIDW, suave as anything, and yet here he can't see a flag being waved in front of his face! What next? Will Shen Qingqiu get out a flag and wave it, shouting Please fuck me??!!!
Binghe! Please be more conscientious of your poor master and think with your dick a little more!! Where is that insatiable lady-killer when you need him??? Shen Qingqiu is so frustrated he feels like he might spit blood! Please do something about it Binghe!!
Shen Qingqiu just smiles and inclines his head. "It has been manageable," he says, and tries a little harder, attempting to redirect the conversation. "Though... with our energies in such a state, perhaps we might find a way to help one another..." He looks at Binghe shyly over the top of his fan, lashes lowered. He bites his lip, a small thrill of shy anticipation running through him.
Binghe brightens, eyes clearing. He straightens. "Of course!" he says eagerly. "This disciple would be honored in taking over for Luo Qingge in balancing shizun's meridians each week! This disciple will ask Mu-shishu for a lesson on the proper way to circulate energies through the meridians of the wrist!"
So dense!! Shen Qingqiu's jaw twitches, and he almost throws his fan down onto the table. He smooths out his expression immediately, mask serene and implacable. "Ah," he says delicately, because fuck it, maybe he needs to be more explicit. "This master was perhaps thinking another way..."
And Binghe nods, realization washing over his face. "Of course," he says. "If human solutions are not working, but perhaps a demonic method-"
Yes! Like the divine pillar! Please fuck this master! Binghe is finally catching on!!!
"- the demon realm probably has entirely different healing practices and methods! Why have we never thought to look before? Maybe they will have something. Shizun, I will go immediately-"
"That wasn't quite what I-"
"Shizun is so wise! Wait for me shizun! I'll be back before you know it!"
-
Whoops there's a part 2.
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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.
[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.
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yesterday I went to a little meeting at my local queer community center and I was admiring their bookshelves and mentioned that I work at the public library and someone said "well I bet they don't have any [LGBTQ+ books] at our library" and I was like um. yes we do. we have tons of them. half of our employees are queer leftists so they said "oh well I bet they don't in [nearby rural county]" and I was like uh once again yes they absolutely do. gay people live and work there as well
so here's a quick reminder that if you don't think your local library has enough queer centered materials you should actually check before assuming, and if you're not satisfied with their collection you should submit a request for more such books. I don't know what the political landscape of libraries looks like outside the us rn, but within the us no matter where you are, I promise you there are employees at your library fighting for inclusion and intellectual freedom and they can't win without vocal public support
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
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