#but not really?? just in case

[starbornsoulrider]

how the ending to that quest went in my head-

spoilers for new story quest

It all happens in a blink. One minute, Halo was staring at the face of the man who took their beloved mentor from them. The face they'd hoped to never see again. They weren't even able to do anything- the shock had overcome their body long before they were able to shout, scream, attack, do anything. That can't be him. This has to be a dream. A nightmare. Please let it be a nightmare.

The next, there's a flash, and the ground beneath Buddy disappears. The Dark Riders, Mr. Sands, Darko, Devil's Gap, are all swallowed by white. Halo can't even realize where they've been transported to before the visions start. They don't feel themself fall sideways off Buddy's back and hit the rocky ground with a thump as shadows begin to consume their vision in place of the blinding light from before.

Everything plays out again, like a movie running in their mind. Their friends, the Dark Riders, Mr. Sands- Elissa wreaking complete havoc as Garnok's thousands of arms burst forth from the earth, shredding Jorvik apart like paper. Maniacal laughing ringing in their ear as everything they'd fought tooth and nail to protect crumbles like dust.

Darko has a hand around their throat, dangling them over the edge of a cliff, over the roaring ocean below. There's crystal shards scattered at his feet, and among them, Halo can make out the petrified faces of their friends and soul horse. Their horror-struck faces, captured in pink stone.

He lets go, and Halo plummets through the screeching air and plunges into the unforgiving cold. A tentacle wraps around their torso, dragging them back into the forsaken, empty darkness and trapping them for eternity.

"Halo! HALO!"

The sound of their horse's voice crying out to them slowly draws them out of the terror flashing before their eyes, and back to reality.

"Halo! Halo, you need to breathe!"

They can make out their horse's blue eyes through the haze. Following his instructions, they squeeze their eyes shut, and slowly but surely the horrific visions begin to dwindle. Buddy's voice talking them through it acts as a lifeline, keeping them from being dragged back down.

After what feels like hours, everything finally clears, and falls quiet. Their bleary eyes blink back open, greeted by the sight of the clouded night sky and the red particles left as residue from that teleportation spell. They suddenly register the weight on their chest, where Timber lay to try and calm them down. As they come back to their senses, their hand reaches up to rest on the Mistfox's soft fur.

A few more breaths later, and they make an attempt to sit up. Timber shifts into their lap, inky eyes never leaving his owner as he lets out a worried whimper.

Buddy's ears droop back in concern, but he gives his rider space, head hovering a safe distance away. Thick silence holds in the air as Halo gazes out blankly to the lapping shores of Cape Sorrow.

"...Halo?" he speaks up cautiously.

The young Soul Rider's mouth hangs open for a moment more. Halo's stare never leaves the towering cliffs of South Hoof in the distance as faint, raspy words finally part from their lips.

"My visions of Garnok..." they breathe out shakily, trembling hands squeezing Timber closer. "...they're coming true."

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Gravity Falls was strange, and the townsfolk even stranger, it seemed.

The twins had been unceremoniously dropped off on the side of the dusty road, the roar of the bus engine fading away as the driver wordlessly drove off without fanfare. The poor man had almost seemed close to tears ever since they had entered the thresholds of this seemingly innocuous town, all too eager to speed off and away while leaving the two children coughing and wheezing in its dust.

It had not even been a full minute since their lackluster drop-off before they became well acquainted with the oddly sociable and irritatingly chatty inhabitants of Gravity Falls. A single conversation with a pair of boisterous policemen already told them all they needed to know about the history of the town, as well as the whereabouts of their Great Uncle Ford.

"The Mystery Shack," the townsfolk had called it. It seemed as though their distant uncle had earned himself somewhat of a reputation amongst the locals. He was the town cryptid; the ever elusive mad scientist that lived in the outskirts of town in this so called "Mystery Shack". No one really knew who he really was; but everyone knew exactly who he was.

So, when the twins found themselves stood hand in hand in front of the rickety old shack, they hadn't really known what to expect when door had swung open with a deafening slam.

He was a strange man, their Great Uncle Ford. He seemed nothing like the cackling looney lab-coated madman they had imagined from what meager hushed information the townsfolk had offered them. It seemed as though the tales of a scientist gone mad that experimented on stray children that wandered into his spooky "Mystery Shack" was but a cruel rumor.

He mostly just seemed unhealthy, to be honest. His sickly, pale frame utterly drowned in the thick red woolen sweater that practically seemed to hang off of his lanky body like a second flap of skin. It made him look almost child-like, like a kid trying on their parents clothes; which somewhat diluted the intimidating effects of his looming height.

Although, the townsfolk's apparent fear of their Great Uncle Ford seemed to have some merit.

For one, Grunkle Ford really didn't seem all too human. He wasn't inhumane, per se; just, not entirely himself, if that made any sense. Looking at him was like looking at an incomplete puzzle; or looking at someone who you remember all your life wearing a hat, suddenly coming to work one day without one, and it takes a little too long for you to remember what is missing.

It was like Grunkle Ford had lost pieces of himself. Somewhere, to someone. His eyes seemed... almost empty. They were a little too dull and a little too opaque, lacking the lively shine of life everyone else seemed to have.

Another thing was that Grunkle Ford wasn't entirely alone. There was... someone else. The twins couldn't exactly pinpoint where, but they could feel its stare, whatever or whoever it was. They could almost feel its stare, a non-existent eye trailing a weird prickling sensation across their skin. The twins recalled the words of one of the townsfolk, a tall bestacled man with haunted blind eyes; although unseeing they could have sworn his gaze never seemed to leave them, as all he said was:

"Don't catch IT staring at you"

The twins had an odd feeling that IT was looking at them right now.

They didn't even notice when the pale bony hand of Grunkle Ford suddenly reached into their personal space, barely registering his words at all, much less the extra fingers that adorned each of his rough, worn palms.

They didn't take the hand.

If the twins had thought the outside of the shack looked decrepit, the inside seemed somehow even worse.

Every inch of exposed wall, ceiling or floor were utterly covered by sprawling symbols, summoning circles, and indecipherable words that seemed to be in an entirely different language than any the twins knew. They overlapped and tangled into one another into big, messy, red splotches of clustered nothings.

There were notes, diagrams on ripped pieces of aged looking paper scattered everywhere, with hardly any room for post-it notes squeezed wherever there was room. Lit and unlit candles were placed absolutely everywhere; either hidden in the dark corners or openly stood in the middle of the floor; sometimes in a circle, sometimes not. The melted fallen wax had coagulated into a hard white mess onto the floor; the smell of cheap vanilla scented candles intermingling with the smell of halloween fake blood (and Dipper was convince there had to be some real blood there, too) to create a sour concoction that stung their noses unpleasantly.

The shack was sparsely furnished with rarely any furniture at all. Not even a couch, the tables and chairs simply pushed to the walls to make more space for the endlessly swirling symbols and pentagrams. The twins were hesitant of stepping on any of the summoning circles, carefully sidestepping the candles and walking over the line of the pentagrams.

The attic, where they would be residing, was not much better.

Maybe they did end up in a mad scientist's house, after all.

[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.

[sapphic-storm69]

Spiderverse thots

[o0kawaii0o]

ROMANCE DAWN TRIO

[bi-hop]

breaking my silence... unironically my favorite panel in all of dungeon meshi

[polarsirens]

the emo kids

[bacchuschucklefuck]

typical tavern scene

[pangur-and-grim]

I updated the breeder on what's been happening, and she called Belphie out for being bald

[dustgeonmeshi]

i respect people who like to see izutsumi as chilchuck's straight up adopted daughter post-canon but personally i like to see it a bit differently. like the fatherdaughterism is THERE but it remains unspoken forever. she does her own things and probably wouldn't confine herself to one spot. im sure she bounces around between all the main party members, whenever she's not on her own adventures. i find it more interesting to see their relationship as like...coming and going. she shows up at chilchuck's house or his shop at random, and stays for days at a time, and after a while they're able to fall into a routine as if it's second nature. they don't even talk all that much. their silences are comfortable. when she takes off again, he doesn't say anything sappy. he says something like "don't go eating a bunch of junk." or "don't go out of your depth and get yourself killed. this isn't the dungeon, you won't be resurrected." she hardly responds and leaves. she'll return again, maybe weeks or months later, and she'll stay for either a few hours or for a few days. and he'll appreciate the company without ever really saying it. and so it goes on

[kanonwithak]

may also be swapped

literally how do you draw these goobers

[loserwithanartacc]

Screenie redraw/dumbest thing I’ve ever drawn

Enjoy <3

[dewinabsentia]

rain’s big screen moment

[awetfrog]

wow they solved it

[wizardpotions]

one of my favourite examples of preserving atmosphere in a remake or HD version of a game will always be deciding not to remaster any of the music for twilight princess HD, and actually not changing much of the visuals either, something about that games atmosphere comes from the hazy and and dream like quality of digital media from the time. the muffled audio has this incredible ethereal quality to it that you just do not find in games anymore. there was something truely magical about 2000s dark fantasy media that i hope we will see again someday

[eurodynamic]

Dragon Age: Origins (2009) Dragon Age II (2011) Dragon Age: Inquisition (2014) Dragon Age: The Veilguard (2024)