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#they literally. all i can think about
azul-marie · 2 years
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little habits of love.
fem. reader feat. arthur, charles, javier, sean, john
arthur —
drawings to amuse.
his artistry is unknown to many but you, and perhaps little jack for all his curiosity. arthur is a private, sentimental man, all his thoughts collecting and manifesting across the pulp of his journal’s pages. but if you ask, even just to tease, you’ll no sooner receive a carefully folded gift of a drawing of something you mentioned to him before — a flower, a wild turkey’s feather, even a sleeping portrait of charles. some are detailed and thoughtful, shadows and light captured alike, while others are messy little scrawls drawn from boredom, of long trips back campward all alone. arthur says nothing of these gifts of his. the only thanks he needs is the way you grin up at him, the way you press those pages between ones of your own.
charles —
blocking sunny rays from a pretty face.
his statue is much discussed, height and build and all, strength seeping through the cloth of his clothing. charles is accustomed to being the tallest, the largest man in the room, save for a mr. arthur morgan. yet it still comes times his body serves for a purpose other than hurt, than suffering — times when the summer sun is high up above the clouds, its rays piercing your eyes, twisting that lovely face of yours into a grimace. he is not aware of when this habit began. charles knew only to spare you from this bother, by standing behind or besides you to give you a slice of shade while you worked. when you notice, the way you fawn so sweetly warms his heart, though he’ll only brush it off as the right thing to do. if it’s for you, it’s always right.
javier —
hands and arms at your beck and call.
he is a gentlemen, posh and proud in his own right. although the two of you live this life of freedom and criminality, javier never forgets to treat you like the loveliest lady you are. on riverbank walks, he’ll cross your elbows together to keep you warm and close. he insists on his hands on your waist whilst helping you dismount your horse. no matter the length of stairs ahead of you, his hand is always outstretched for you to steady yourself on the way down. before you need it, javier’s holding whatever it is out for you to pluck from his grasp, always anticipating your every move. he insists it is the compatibility between you both, how in tune you’ve grown to be. loyalty is his name, and he’s given it to you.
sean —
a quiet vulnerability.
his boisterous, cheeky camaraderie is unmatched by any other in the gang. sean is, at once, the joy and annoyance of every one person’s heart, despite their saying otherwise. but rarely, rarer than double-crossed rainbows or a sober camp party, sean falls silent. it is the type of silence that comes with trust, and a side of love; it is the kind that belongs only to you. where his head rests upon your lap, on your shoulder, your bosom, eyes closed in thoughtful quiet. where he soaks up your whispered words and gentle touches, wanting nothing more than his world enveloped by you. it never lasts long, for sean is too adamant of his feelings to go on without showering you in some sort of affection — but this quiet, his quiet, speaks volumes on his behalf.
john —
senses, touch, only for you.
during the wolf attack, it was all teeth and scapes and blood left behind to mark him. and after, it was pairs of hands after hands, touching his face, his battered body, until the day he finally healed enough to walk. john, plenty touch-starved before, now flinches and flicks off unwanted hands or legs or shoulders when he feels them getting too close. but you are never too close, no, never close enough. perhaps it is the shy of the soul that doesn’t allow him to admit aloud; whereas he snaps and growls at the others, it is by your hand he calms, whether it’s a stroke of his head or a caress of his cheek. it is a trust deeply connecting, said without words. john knows no hurt when it comes from you.
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endusviolence · 2 months
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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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egophiliac · 17 days
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IT WAS ERIC AFTER ALL!!!! I'm so glad we got to meet him (before Vil snaps him away with those Infinity Gauntlets) (can't wait to see what happens when we get the matching Infinity Tiara to go with them, there will be no survivors)
(sorry to be so slow/rough lately, just got a lot of stuff on the ol' brain at the moment! alas, if only I could spend all my time drawing incredibly stupid characters I mean I do but)
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inkskinned · 7 months
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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.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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trans-axolotl · 1 year
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saw a post the other day that said that psych survivors were overexaggerating and fearmongering for saying that people should be aware that having diagnoses on your record can be a danger + impede your life. and the more i think about it the more annoyed i am. because i think people need to know that there are exceptions to health privacy laws that can make having psych diagnoses and psych hospitalization history on your record risky depending on your circumstances. diagnoses follow you through your health interactions-you do not have to consent to have your information shared between providers. judicial proceedings are also an exception to the HIPAA privacy rule, so for things like custody battles, guardianship, getting orders of protection--the court can petition for medical records. there's so many other situations where even if they can't legally access your information without your authorization, people will require you to disclose diagnoses, records, previous hospitalizations and refuse to give you services/hire you/whatever unless you share that information with them. for example in many states anyone (a provider, a cop, friends and family) can disclose that you have certain psych diagnoses like bipolar to the DMV which then might require that you undergo drivers license review as frequently as every 3 months. my university is actively trying to kick me out right now because i had to disclose my medical record, psych diagnoses, and hospitalization history to them as a requirement to stay enrolled.
and i don't want to scare people or make people think that having a diagnosis on their records is automatically going to mean that it is weaponized against us. because i do know plenty of people who have never faced issues with their records. but i do expect that the community supports the people speaking out about the ways that we have been harmed by diagnoses creating barriers to accessing necessary parts of our life. instead of attacking us or saying that we're lying about things we are currently experiencing.
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mr-malumm · 1 month
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Hey tumblr what do we think of this?
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merrigel · 3 months
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I want it back = I drag its dead weight forward
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it’s currently 2am and I’m trying to go to sleep but all I can remember is that jason todd stole the tires on the Batmobile in crime alley where Bruce’s parents died on the anniversary of their death and then proceeded to hit Bruce with his tire iron and called him a big boob while running away and Bruce laughed, jason made him laugh on the anniversary of his parents death. This is consuming my brain every minute of every day oh my fucking god.
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sneez · 4 months
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family portrait :D young sam and sybil are behaving themselves and vimes is throwing a hissy fit because they tried to make him wear the helmet
[id: a digital painting of three people sitting for a portrait in a domestic interior. young sam is standing with his hands behind his back and beaming proudly. vimes is standing behind him with his hand on his shoulder, wearing a shiny military uniform and a surly expression. sybil is sitting on the right with an arm around young sam, smiling at the viewer. a plumed helmet is sitting on a table on the left. end id.]
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 24 days
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Daddy, don't go.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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cozylittleartblog · 2 months
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8th annual nick valentine post! fallout 4 npcs Love sitting. they'll see a chair and ask "is anyone gonna sit here" and not wait for an answer. its like nick is on a personal quest to sit in every chair in the commonwealth. if he sees a chair its on sight
its because his joints are bad, obviously. he's like 140
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chrisrin · 3 days
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HE'S GONNA STEAL--NOT JUST YOUR HEART--BUT EVERYTHING YOU OWN AS WELL!!!
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khawlat · 2 months
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It's been emotional, Captain.
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turtleblogatlast · 1 month
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Imo the most impressive thing Leo’s done is hold this pose for as long as he did while covered head to toe in gold paint:
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#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#rise leo#if you’ve ever had to wear body paint that stuff can be UNCOMFORTABLE#AND to hold that pose for so long - not moving a muscle even when they first started falling?#as humorous as this is it is no joke highly impressive#I also love the implication that they disguised Leo SO FAST that Big Mama JUST finished with item 1#this is why Leo grows to become the worlds greatest ninja#bro’s dedication to subterfuge is godly#also#Leo 🤝 Mario: being painted gold and tricking the villainess into thinking you’re a statue#side note but in this same episode leo makes a comment about being betrayed by his brothers all the time in a happy tone#and I wonder if that’s part of where his love for epic betrayals comes from#or if his bros partially did those betrayals because they know he likes them#also also#nearly all of Leo’s absolute best moments are contained within episodes that feature either Hueso or especially Big Mama#and I find that interesting#ALSO also also#Karai and Big Mama both embody different aspects of Leo’s key character traits and in this essay I will-#side note but as I mentioned in the notes LEO WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD CHEERLEADER AND SPECIFICALLY A FLYER#bc here’s the thing he has literally all the marks of a good one - the main one being what he shows HERE#the ability to LOCK HIS POSITION#plus his affinity for showmanship like#AND his literal JOB AS A MASCOT???#let my guy be a cheerleader plz#he and Mikey both would be so good at it
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steddiealltheway · 2 months
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Something that is canon in my mind that I forget to tell people:
The reason why Steve can’t get bitches in his Scoops Ahoy era is because there’s a rumor going around that he’s gay (probably because someone caught him hooking up with Eddie)
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babydarkstar · 4 months
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i just. i just…FUCK. i just really want harrowhark to go sicko mode when she realizes john has the power to resurrect whoever he wants he just chooses not to and even after learning about his own blood daughter he still doesn’t resurrect her he just makes her a construct. i would be alecto-levels of grief-stricken-enraged if my childhood nemesis/guard dog/whipping girl/codependent lesbian situationship that i lobotomized over/suicide-pact soulmate/only friend was suddenly here but not here haunting her own dead body and the only reason she’s present is because she was made into a fascist killing machine for a man with a power kink, and she’s not even happy about it but she’s going through the motions because all she knows of love is to be useful. (forever your sword.) and if i was harrow and i died and then came back to myself after switching bodies with the human cage holding the earth’s soul and realized all of this, i think i too would be accompanying the earth’s soul on her shoulder to go kill a man with eclipse-eyes and criminal levels of nonchalance. y’know. the one who guarded g1deon but not me, lord. the one who was so sure i had never seen that which lies insensate and with stilled mind, lord, who did not realize i was a lock and there was a key in the shape of a girl, lord. the one who looked me dead in the eye and told me i could never have my cavalier back, lord. the cavalier who came back haunted and empty and incomplete by your hand, lord.
i’m so team ‘harrowhark saves gideon for real this time not because she wants her cav but because she wants her other half’ i might lose my mind about it
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