#<- i mean he's in it

[blood-mocha-latte]

paper, kneel, garrulous, bashful, impinge - a baberoe drabble

for an ask from @whollyjoly <3 || request an edit/drabble || sometimes, you just think of the church scene in the breaking point episode of band of brothers and think hm, baberoe

The choir stops singing after about two hours.

Gene listens closely the entire time, not so much to listen to the sound of the melody but for the words; for any trace of his Grandmére, his Mére, Renée. For the language of home.

They sing, and they sing, and then they stop; filing out of the church to rest in the ruins of their town, marred by war like a victim of smallpox is scars.

A young girl, the last one to file out of the large, wood-chipped doors of the candlelit church, turns to look over her shoulder at them, one last time. A blonde braid swings over her shoulder as she does. Gene accidentally catches her eye and nods to her. She nods back, face solemn, eyes dark. She can’t be more than twelve.

The echoing singing is replaced by the soft murmurs of exhausted men, and Gene slides down the wooden pew, over to where Lip sits, slouched over, blood still crusted in his hair and brow. 

“Sir.” He greets softly, and Lip jolts, only slightly. It makes Gene almost relax, slightly; the idea that the man who’s been with them for the longest and the bravest finally feels safe enough to let his guard down.

He looks up from a piece of paper, a stubby pencil held in one hand, and Gene nods, tangling his fingers together in front of them, a long-forged habit of warmth that isn’t exactly needed, anymore. Lip nods back.

“Doc.” He says. “How’s…” He somewhat trails off, eyes shifting to take in the men, lounging across pews, sleeping on each other's shoulders. He huffs, looks back down at the paper, and crumples it up before shoving it into his pocket. “Well, how’s everyone? How’re you?”

“Just fine.” Gene says, and doesn’t feel like elaborating. He nods to the pocket. “What’re you workin’ on?”

Lip blinks before humming, dropping the hand holding the pencil into his lap, staring down at it. “Nothin’ much.” He mutters, thoughtful. “Just… just a list. I made one for Captain Speirs, but.” He rolls the pencil across his palm. “I figured I’d make another.”

Gene watches his profile, wonders if he should bother patching up the cut that runs jagged across his temple and decides against it. It won’t need stitches, anyways, and he can always clean and bandage it in the four or five hours they have before they have to move out. 

He can do that, now. Procrastinate. Not much, but enough. Enough to be comforted by it.

“Try an’ get some rest, Sir.” Gene murmurs, and slides as quietly as he can out of the pew and down the polished, wooden steps. Lipton hums, and Gene knows that he didn’t really hear him.

He wanders rather aimlessly, after that, pacing the lengths of the pews only once before coming to a stop at the end opposite Lip. He leans against the short wall that supports the stairs. 

He should be exhausted, he doesn’t know why he isn’t. He’s just… warm, chest soft with a relief that’s tainted by apprehension. Sore and aching, but not caring. He never truly cared about that, anyways. Not when it’s him, that’s sore and aching.

“Heya, Doc.” Says a soft voice, and Gene knows who it is before he turns around to look. 

“Edward.” He says, and feels the side of his traitorous mouth quirk up when Heffron groans, overexaggerated but still exhausted.

“Awe, you’re killin’ me, Gene.” He says, and Gene huffs, quiet enough that Heffron can’t hear, and turns around, resting against the wall. Heffron rests against the pew, slouching backwards, knees spread. His grin is crooked, bright. “Patch me up, and then kill me anyways. That’s just cruel.”

Gene, against his better judgment, doesn’t tamp down the smile Heffron’s words invoke. He trods up the few steps to the pew Heffron rests at quietly. He doesn’t bother sitting at the pews, already crowded by men laying on them like beds, by men who need them more than he.

He kneels next to Heffron, instead, before leaning against the pew and crossing his legs under him. “Yeah, well.” He says softly, and doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t know where to go, from there. What to say. Heffron hums, like he does.

“Ya know, back in Philly, my sister got all these fancy ass books. Ass-tin, or somethin’. Jane. ‘Ya know?” Gene hums. He leans his head back against the wood of the pew, lets the light of the candles comfort him. Heffron shifts, as if leaning closer to him as he continues. “Well, it was only… maybe a week, before I enlisted? And I was ramblin’ about… somethin’ stupid. I don’t remember what. But it was pissin’ my sister right the fuck off, see, ‘cause I kept talkin’ over her.”

Gene huffs, and resists the urge to close his eyes. He can imagine that. Can imagine Heffron with a sister, with a family. Talking a mile a minute, so fast and with accents so thick that Gene wouldn’t be able to tell what in the hell any of them are saying. Heffron shifts again, and Gene can hear his breathing, soft and steady, if a bit rapid.

“Anyways, you know what she called me? This one foot nothin’, eleven year old kid?” Heffron didn’t wait for Gene to respond. “She called me garrulous.” Heffron puts strain on the word, and laughs softly afterwards; that same laugh that Spina has. That Bill had, when he was here. It has to be a Philadelphian thing, Gene thinks. The soft, cackling laugh like your mouth is coming right off your face.

“Garrulous.” Gene says, trying the word out. He doesn’t know what it means, exactly, but it seems nice. Heffron chuckles again, and Gene doesn’t jump when the back of his hand brushes across the shell of his ear, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of Gene’s jacket.

“That’s how you said my name.” He says, softly. More hesitant than anything he’s said before. Almost bashful. “The first time. That’s how you said it. All… all slow.” Gene blinks, and, finally, gives into the urge to close his eyes. He almost leans further into the hand, but stops at the last second.

“Slow?” He asks, and Babe hums, tapping light fingers against his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” He says, then pauses. “Like… like you’re tasting what you say. Really thinkin’ about it.”

I don’t think. Gene thinks. I just run. And move. And find. And—

“‘S one of my favorite things about you.” Babe says, voice so quiet it’s like he’s telling a terrible secret. Gene wants to curl against that voice, never wants to open his eyes again. 

They’re in a church, under the benevolent eyes of Him, and although that never stopped anything from happening before, Gene feels like it would, this time. The soft tapping, five points of near-holy connection between him and Heffron, Edward, Babe, seems to say something. 

Seems to say, it’s gonna be fine, eventually. Seems to say, the scars you dream of won’t haunt you’re waking moments, sometime soon. Seems to say, don’t let the bright stars and dark night be ruined by the sinful impingement of blood.

Gene likes to think that he can feel Babe’s rough fingertips gently against the bare column of his throat, across his temple before he drifts off; lightly but more restful than almost all of his time in France.

He’ll get up, soon. Probably in an hour or two. Keep a careful eye on the men. On Babe.

(Babe, Babe, Babe—)

For now, he lets himself rest on holy ground, with a near-holy man talking softly over the absent echoing of lost screams in his head.

[paintedcrows]

Did anyone tell Ford (bonus doodles: Family Movie Night, 70s Classics)

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[astronomical-bagel]

[fallen-goldfishcracker]

Wyll is so fucking funny and no amount of acknowledgement about this could ever be enough. He's literally walking around being so casually hilarious completely under-the-radar. He calls Halsin a "thick hunk of an elf". He once accidently implied that he was fucking an ogre instead of killing it and then proceeded to absolutely stumble his way through explaining. He gets excited by Lae'zel talking about carnal pleasures. He canonically tells his pessimistic thoughts to shut the hell up. He volunteers to babysit Shadowheart's hypothetical werewolf babies as long as she gets him gloves. He tries to give Gale a hero moniker like his own. He jokes that his father, the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate, can't spell. He calls Astarion "Mister Fangs". He makes up storybook chapter names for his own fucking adventures. As a child he got chased by the Flaming Fist for stealing fruit, nearly drowned trying to find mermaids in the harbor, and almost successfully broke into the Counting House. He reads monster erotica, and is not ashamed to tell you about it. He ranks eating pudding among life's greatest moments. He will, without shame and completely unprompted, meow at you. He is 24 years old.

[mateusbolado]

some more deleted scenes of them. "look who is back! my old partner!"

then bill just... holding ford in order to calm down damn pack it up buddy

also i know people talk a lot about obsession on bills part but ford was also obsessed OBSESSED alright

[collaredkittyboy]

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[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.

[dionysism]

"odysseus should visit diomedes after the events of the odyssey" "odysseus should go see menelaus" personally if i was odysseus im not going fucking no where ever again 😭😭 THEY can come to ithaca. i've been traveling long enough

[charliebugz]

When Izzy first walked out I was worried that he would be made into a joke that the crew would laugh at

but then he started singing and the dancing began and I realized that he wasn’t meant to be a joke at all. This is the most open and happy we’ve ever seen Izzy and the show treated it that way. Not mocking him but instead celebrating this moment.

When we talk about queer representation it’s usually just focused on queer relationships, but what I love about this episode is it shows other sides of being queer. That moment where Izzy saw Wee John doing his makeup and had a realization that he wanted that too? That is what being queer means to me. The crew singing along and cheering for him? That is what being apart of the queer community means to me.

What i love about this show is that it shows queer joy, not in a sanitized way, but in away that is messy, beautiful, and without any mockery or shame.

[noknowshame]

why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?

[astrallar]

This man holds my heart just like he holds these ducks

[tma-thoughts]

What accent coach is working magic behind the scenes of iwtv. A british man plays an american man with a thick new orleans accent that slowly fades to a standard american accent. Another british man plays an indian man with a french accent that morphs into a british accent. An australian man plays a french man with the strongest most unintelligible french accent youve ever heard

[milesofstars]

dick grayson in fanon: sweet silly older brother, pretty but stupid, favourite child, happy robin, basically batman 2.0 but a nice person, his brothers are more skilled and could outpace him but they love him anyways, goody-two-shoes, good relationship with batman, responsible eldest child, mentally stable and supportive

dick grayson in canon:

became robin so he wouldnt commit first degree murder

like all of his appearances young justice season 1 are about how hes a maniac and a genius

leader and strategist of the teen titans

actually Murdered the joker

considered an equal by the worlds most dangerous and deadly mercenary

was literally fired by batman and only really continued working w him because of jason and babs

managed to keep up with angsty new-to-the-job batman

has had so many arguments with bruce its a miracle he hasnt cut him off forever (hes tried though)

can take down the entire teen titans if he wanted despite being the only one of them with no superpowers/abilities

was the definition of angsty teenager

inherits his insane paranoia from bruce

a thread away from breaking the no-kill rule, give him a rest

hes literally feral guys i mean cmon

[heilos]

I don't want you to feel like you're nothing