#But only for a moment

[fishbrain-glubglub]

Seven months, fifteen days, four hours, and thirty-seven minutes.

It had been that long since Bruce's heart had been violently ripped out of his chest as he watched Superman- his best friend, his partner in-and-out of crime, his sunshine, his husband- crumple lifelessly to the ground, bloodied almost beyond recognition in his tattered uniform worn from his final battle against his home planet's ultimate weapon. It had been that long since the life left the Kryptonian's otherworldly cornflower blue eyes, taking Bruce’s soul along with it. It had been that long since Batman stopped pulling back his punches, beating even common crooks inches within their lives just to feel the pound of flesh against the void that filled his senses. If it was a bad night, the Dark Knight would even allow those same criminals to get the drop on him, allowing these low-level nobodies to beat him senseless just to remember what it was like to feel something, anything other than the bare nothingness where his heart used to reside.

Sometimes, the Batman even allowed the higher level rogues get the drop on him, falling into trap after trap just to feel the thrill of adrenaline at the thought that maybe it was his time, and he would finally be reunited with his zrhomin again in blissful eternity amongst the stars.

This was one of those moments.

"Truly, Batman, I must admit I am perplexed." Edward Nigma circled the captured Caped Crusader twirling his question mark cane lazily in the air. "I have created quite a list of complex contraptions in the past, only for you to masterfully evade and vanquish my plans without so much as a batarang out of place." Nigma stopped right in front of Batman, a menacing sneer warping his pale face. "Yet here you are, battered, bloodied, and barely a threat. I can only conclude that all those seemingly ludicrous rumors are true."

Batman bared his bloodied teeth with a sneer of his own, itching for Riddler to finish his monolog so the fight could commence. The overwhelming inner numbness had already begun to creep within the vigilante's chest, stealing his every breath in its greed to consume.

Nigma only sighed and shook his head slowly, pulling at the question mark end of his cane to reveal a blade. "I had always imagined our final battle to be both a test of brain and brawn, but I guess I must settle for what I am given." He placed the blade against Batman's jaw and leaned in close. "Give my regards to the Man of Steel, will you? At least he still appreciated my riddles in the end."

Behind the white lenses of his cracked cowl, Bruce closed his eyes imagining the golden radiance of his beloved's ethereal form, accepting the final blow and awaited his eternal damnation.

The blow never came.

There was a brief gust of wind, knocking Batman to the ground before his bindings vanished, freeing his aching limbs from their containment. The man's eyes snapped open as he regained his equilibrium, rolling to his feet before he could collapse. He looked around for the Riddler, expecting another ploy to spring any moment.

Instead, a figure clad in a simple black Kryptonian suit hovered just outside the Dark Knight's reach, radiating light like the sun itself despite the sliver of moonlight peaking through Gotham’s cloudy skyline. The man's curly black hair gently brushed against his shoulders, pairing strikingly well with the face of slightly disheveled facial hair that framed the man's face perfectly. His eyes, vibrant and full of warmth, bore right through Bruce’s chest, warming the external chill he had been damned to carry. The sight before him was too good to be true.

It had to be.

"B." The black-clad figure flashed a strikingly familiar smile, sending the Dark Knight's nonexistent heart racing.

Batman took a large step back, crouching into a defensive stance. "I don't know who you are, or who made you, but I will not hesitate to send you back in pieces."

A confused look warped the mysterious figure's face. "B? What are you talking about? It's me."

"You may have his face, automaton," Batman snarled. "But you will never truly capture the essence of the Man of Steel."

Hurt merged with the figure's confusion. "Bruce, please-"

A batarang bounced harmlessly off the black-clad chest, the figure's hand catching the weapon in the blink of an eye. It looked down at the object in both disappointment and slight anguish before raising its gaze back at Batman, its well-crafted eyes pleading.

"Bruce-"

"Stop!" Batman threatened the figure with another batarang. "I don't know how your creator gained that name, but if you say it one more time, I will destroy every trace of your and your creator's existence before the night's end."

The figure held up its hands in a placating gesture, still holding the batarand between its pointer finger and thumb. "It’s okay, B. I promise it's really me." When Batman said nothing, it continued. "Will you let me prove it to you?"

Batman growled. "Nothing you do can prove you are nothing more than a fake."

The figure's chuckle sent a tingling warmth through Batman's body. It was so familiar, so realistic, he could almost imagine this automaton was the real Man of Steel. The figure's mouth curled up into an accurate teasing grin. "Try me."

Batman quickly internally rattled off a list of questions, only to just as quickly dismiss them from thought. Many of them contained information accessible to the public. Questions related to Justice League information unknown to the public could still be obtained (though if that were true, Bruce would've been alerted before it could ever be transplanted into a fake). Still, there were so few options for the figure to truly confirm its identity.

Unless...

Batman straightened from his battle stance, storing his batarangs back in his belt and looked the figure directly in its eyes. The automaton slowly lowered its arms to its side, dropping the batarang to the dusty warehouse floor. A hopeful smile danced on its perfectly sculpted features, eyes gleaming similar to Bruce's memory.

The Dark Knight took a moment to brace himself, taking a deep breath before speaking as calmly as the numbness would allow.

"There lies the heat of summer

On your cheek's lovely art;

There lies the cold of winter

Within zhao,tes lonely heart."

Recognition and joy lit up the figure's face as it made an aborted motion forward before forcing itself to stay.

"That will change, Vikhzhao,

The end not as the start!

Winter on your cheek then,

Summer in your heart."

Before Bruce could even register the movement, he was lunging forward into the figure's- into Kal's- strong yet gentle arms, burying his bruised face into the crook of his husband's neck. The comforting warmth of the Kryptonian filled the crushing void that hard tried to consume Bruce for months, restarting his heart and sending a rapid rhythm under his skin. Seven months, fifteen days, four hours, and fifty-two minutes worth of anguish and sorrow bubbled violently to the surface of the Dark Knight's psyche, threatening to escape through his now trembling lips.

A gentle hand began rubbing soothing patterns against Bruce's tattered back while the other held him close, not daring to let go anytime soon.

"Hey now, B. It's okay." Kal's soothing tenor sent another wave of relief amongst Bruce's other overwhelming emotions threatening to consume the man. "I'm here, darling, I promise."

"You idiot!" Anger swelled above everything else, causing Bruce to pull away from Kal's embrace enough to look his husband in his beautiful otherworldly eyes, pounding half-heartedly on his perfect chest. "You fucking moron! You weren't supposed to die! Not until I was long gone, our life full of happy memories and zero regrets!"

"And that can still happen." The Kryptonian's smile didn't waver as he cupped his partner's jaw, lighting up every inch of Bruce's being. "I'm here, aren't I? There's still plenty of time."

"No."

Confusion shrouded Kal's smile. "No?"

Bruce tightened his grip on his love's waist, scowling without any heat behind it. "No. We have seven months, fifteen days, four hours, and fifty-six minutes of catching up to do." He glanced at the distant Gotham skyline before returning his now heated gaze to his partner. "And Bruce Wayne has a mandatory quarterly review meeting in six hours and twenty-seven minutes."

A darker, more mischievous grin spread on Kal's face. "I can get us home before you can list all of the things we have missed."

"That's not fair." Bruce huffed. "That's a very long list."

Kal scooped Bruce into a long familiar (yet still embarrassing) bridal carry before leaning down for the most heart-felt kiss Bruce had ever experienced in a long time. His body was instantly filled to the brim with warmth and love and happiness and Kal, melting away any physical or mental pain from Bruce's mind. Everything was realigned once more, life becoming worth living once more.

After what felt like a millenia and yet only the briefest of a millisecond, Kal pulled away, his brilliant sapphire eyes gleaming with light Bruce never thought he'd see again.

"You better get started then."

He never did finish that list.

[lost-but-with-coffee]

Terrible arknights idea #223

When you fluster Ptilopsis, you can hear her internal cooling fans ramp up in terms speed

[springypaws]

A whole arrangement of school sketches I did while settling on Eiffel’s design (ranging from ehhhhh 😬 to ehhh? 👀 on the eh scale, if I’m gonna be honest)

I am so in love with drawing him as a simple square man

[rottmntquotes]

But what if...

OMO Casey: Uh... are you sure this is safe?

FTaaH Casey: Oh, sure! My dad plays Slingshot with me all the time and I always pop right back up!

MNMC Casey: And how do we play this again?

FTaaH Casey: Okay, I pull this Casey back in our homemade slingshot reeeeeaaaaaallllllly far, and when he says he's ready, I let go!

OMO Casey: Wait! You're ACTUALLY gonna do that?!

FTaaH Casey: Yep! Now, 3... 2... 1...!

MNMC and OMO Casey: DAD!

[kakusu-shipping]

The year is 2022 and I am a little guy legally married to Makarov Dreyar of the Fairy Tail Guild, as 13 year old me would have wanted.

Self Insert and just straight up Making Things Up about Fairy Tail Lore beneath the cut

So, in the world of Fairy Tail I am a Vampire, pushing 600 years old. I’m lifting a lot of this from young mes original self insert which pushed the Immortal Loli/Shota trope, so I am Makarov’s 3′nothing size.

The rest of this is more origonal

In his 600 years, Emile became the (to his knowledge) last living pure blooded vampire, as much like Dragons, Vampires were eventually hunted to near extinction by humans after catting and feeding of them for so long.

Emile survived due to his small stature and young appearance, keeping humans from believing him to be the immortal creature of the night that had been feeding from their village for years.

Now alone, Emile travels the continent, avoiding staying in one place for too long, inventing Magic Items such as The Magicmobile to assist humans, and gather a growing wealth deposited in banks across the land.

To gain access to these springs of wealth, however, he has to be a legal citizen of the country he is currently staying it. As he can’t exactly claim to be the 100+ year old original opener of the account, he instead has to play the decedent. Starting first with forged documents, he puts himself in schools, moving every other grade to avoid suspicion as he doesn’t age or grow, and ending with a big of Marriage Fraud to solidify his residency, and gain access to his accounts.

This is how he ended up with Makarov Dreyar, after all the Fairy Tail guild seems to rack up a lot of repair bills, would be rather nice to have someone with plenty of spare wealth to pay it all off.

Emile, as an ancient being, has a lot of deeper understanding of magic than most in the guild. In his time he’s had the space and practice to master most types of magics, only Celestial Magic still eludes him.

He’s more than happy to spread this magic onto others, teaching Cana card magic, Erza her requip spells, helping Mira and Elfman perfect Take Overs, he even implanted the Lighting Dragon Lacrima in Laxus when he was a mere toddler.

Early in Emile’s life in the guild he saw no problem teaching such young children dangerous magics. So long as he’d lived, he knew of human’s short life spans. Keeping the Guild strong mattered more than keeping the kids safe. Sending them on jobs alone, charging them jewel for food or rent around the guild seemed fair. They’re old enough to be part of a guild they’re old enough to work and pay for their rights to stay.

Until Lisanna died.

He hadn’t really thought himself attached to this kids, Makarov’s kids, until he stood beside him at Lisanna’s funeral, staring at a tombstone with such a young age on it.

He did that.

He let a child go on an S class quest. He taught a child dangerous magics. He told Makarov they’d be fine on their own.

Rules changed soon after. Minors were no longer allowed on S Class Quests at all. Minors also were not allowed to take monster hunting jobs without an adult in the party. S Class Quests were moved upstairs and fewer of them were accepted.

Emile started making magic items for everyone in the guild on top of making Erza’s armor and weapons. Just something to help them on quests, a little something to lean on, to keep them safe, to hold on to.

He tries not to be too protective over the kids, he knows they’re goo wizards and can handle themselves. But they’re also just so squishy, humans with such short life spans always running head first into trouble.

He understands why Makarov went bald so quickly now.

[meowww-ffxiv]

feels self-conscious whenever I load into a duty with super serious names all around and there's me

Meowdred Surana

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Knowledge Revenge.

[rivetgoth]

It's honestly crazy that discussion around testosterone HRT skews so much towards the beginning stages of it (to the point that you have dozens of guys thinking their transition is "failed" if they don't pass by like a year in lol) and what the initial changes of the first couple of months to years look like, like the classic laundry list of those early basic changes like bottom growth, voice drop, etc, when IMO literally none of that compares remotely to the depth and intensity of the long term total masculinization you start to experience like 3-5+ years in.

[dogiechik]

So who is ready to crash a streaming site through sheer numbers this october 18 watching The Edge of Sleep? WE ARE.

[alcoholttm]

@shipwrght continued from x

the silence was deafening, fingers began to fidget against the fabric of his shirt. had paulie began to have second thoughts? kaku had thought that they were growing enough that this was an obvious step they both would take together--had he gotten that wrong? had he become too hopeful in this situation? was he even marriage material? after all, he was raised to be nothing but a killer, doing a job and getting it done without no remorse. but he had remorse, it was why he came back to make amends, to try to undo all the wrong he had done, was it just not the time to be asking for clarification about getting married? shit.

kaku was about to speak up as he saw the way that paulie gripped the counter of their kitchen, but then he heard something that made every turmoil inside his heart calm.

paulie wanted to marry him, eyes looking down at the hands that gently gripped his own. there was a sigh of relief that left kaku--had he been holding his breath this whole time? possibly. he wanted to spend his life with him--words that he never thought he'd ever be able to hear.

tears. they were streaming down kaku's face as he nodded his head when paulie asked the question. he didn't care that there wasn't a ring at the moment, hell, he wouldn't care if the ring was nothing but a piece of scrap metal used at the docks, he just wanted to be paulie's and paulie's only. that's all that mattered to kaku.

"yes, i want nothing more than to marry you," his voice might be a little cracked from the emotions he was feeling, but the second his sentence got out, kaku wrapped his arms around the other's shoulder, holding onto him as if it would be his last time, forehead burying itself into the crook of paulie's neck. "i love you more than anything, paulie."

[watch-out-it-bites]

very sad because I heard a song and it was so overbearing and it woke me up when I realized it wasn't from my headphones and I went searching for it around the house and I heard a sound of something breaking outside and that's when it became loud for just a moment and then it was very quiet and I lied back down hoping I coukd hear it again trying to make my thoughts quiet so I could hear it clearly but the sing was so quiet now and It felt like I was trying to pull as it as it escaped my memory and then I fell back asleep and forgot about the song and I wish I could remember the tune because it was so simple and yet beautiful and I know what to compare it to but I don't know how !!

[endusviolence]

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.

[teamkrissy]

Clocked George Michael's whimper in traffic today and spun my head so fast to find 2 guys in a silver Camero quietly listening to Wham!'s Everything She Wants

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

Macaque spent the whole season Big-Damn-Hero-ing and was NOT happy about it xD

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[hellenhighwater]

Here's to all the burnouts.

I'm not sure what to name this one but it is working well! Another oil lamp. It's a figure about twice the size of the mythology series figures.