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kassandras-one-braincell · 3 years

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Eivor x Fem!Reader - Ink Me Up

Oh, what to do when the Norwegian woman tattooing your thigh is insanely attractive, clearly gay, with a criminally good bedside manner?

Warning: about tattooing and obviously needles.

Word count: 4363

Can be found on AO3 here.

Heavily inspired by this post here. The tattoo itself is purely self-indulgent. Eivor is stupidly attractive and it's not fair. (Y/N) replacer safe.

After months of saving and deliberation, the time had come. For the longest time you had dreamed of getting something big, bold and beautiful permanently inked into your skin. Something meaningful. And you wanted someone talented to tattoo it.

Thus, you found yourself scouring the web for reputable tattoo shops, hours upon hours poured into searching artists’ portfolios, hoping that someone was skilled enough at black-and-grey realism within a relatively close radius. If you were going to pay a hefty sum for a tattoo, you wanted it to be perfect. Your desktop was flooded with reference images of sword lilies – the subject of your desired ink – and about a dozen different parlours, tabs whittling down one by one during your search.

The final tab was the website for a slightly pricier shop, but one of the artist’s Instagrams utterly captivated you. Their artwork was extraordinary, the details in their pieces stunning and intricate; you decided investing a little extra cash would be worth it. Eivor Varinsdóttir, handle @wolfkissed_ink. Grinning, you emailed the artist, requesting a consultation.

You explained to the artist during that consultation that you wanted a composition of black-and-grey realistic gladioli on your left thigh. Sword lilies represented strength, after all, and you wanted to commemorate overcoming a difficult part of your life with something gorgeous and symbolic. That and, well, flowers were pretty. Within the week they had responded with a sketch that was beyond what you could have possibly thought up yourself: two stunning, bloomed sprigs of the flower with petals floating either side, lifelike as a monochrome photograph. Smiling ear-to-ear, you booked up your first appointment.

Unbridled excitement led to the time before your appointment soaring by, with you opening up the file of the sketch almost every day. Bringing us to the present: you stood anxiously outside the parlour door, 12:50pm, ten minutes before your scheduled appointment. Sucking in a shaky breath, nerves both good and bad, you stepped inside.

The tattoo shop was sleek, modern and decked wall-to-wall with flash sheets, the small designs varying in style, colour and detail. Everything was spotless, as one would expect, with shining awards dotted about. Just seeing the various trophies did well to quell some of your anxieties, knowing you were in good hands, that you’d end up with a lovely piece on your thigh. A stout man covered neck to foot in swirling Japanese designs manned the front desk, smiling warmly at you, obliterating any stigmas you had heard from older relatives about tattoo culture.

Biting your lip, you made your way to the desk, mustering a nervous smile. As thrilled as you were about getting the tattoo, the whole pain aspect was still rather daunting. “Hey, one o’clock appointment for (Y/N) (L/N)?” You fidgeted with the hem of your shorts while the gentleman checked his desktop.

“With Eivor, right?” he verified. You nodded.

“Sorry I’m a little early—”

“No, not at all! Rather you be early than late,” he chuckled, clearly sensing your worries. His eyes flickered across a clipboard. “She’s not with a client at the moment, so I’ll send you through now, if that’s alright.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” you bade, pulse quickening. Come on, you’ve wanted this for so long, you can’t pussy out now.

The guy asked you to wait by the desk as he ventured down a long corridor, the black paint giving off an ominous vibe that did nothing for your nerves. A few seconds later, he returned, cocking his head for you to follow. Your knuckles were white from gripping the strap of your purse so tightly.

He led you to the room at the end of the hall, holding the glossy black door open for you. “Go easy on her, Eivor, it’s clearly her first,” he called out, flashing you a wink, before letting the door close behind you.

Holy shit.

She was hot.

Eivor was nothing short of a modern day viking. Tall, rippling with muscle, late twenties to early thirties, blond hair strewn into an unruly braid with a strip on the right shaved clean to the flesh, revealing a fucking skull tattoo of a bird…a raven? Her face was stupidly handsome, eyes blue and icy but warm with greeting, a long and gnarly scar cutting into the flesh of her left cheek with a smaller nick protruding from her upper lip. Hell, the nape of her neck was marred with an even more vicious looking scar. She wore a tight black t-shirt that strained around her deliciously grizzled arms, which were adorned with Norse-looking runes and text curving into circles, ink that carried on to her hands and neck. The smile she offered you made you weak in the knees.

“(Y/N), right? I’m Eivor, a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted, voice deep and gravelly, decorated with a rasp that to you sounded like butter. Fuck me, she’s a tall, tall glass of water.

You shook her hand when she extended it to you, marvelling at the patterns and blacked-out bands on her long, thick fingers. Her nails were cut extremely short, confirming the strong lesbian vibe she gave off. “Likewise,” you squeaked, cursing yourself for acting like some bloody schoolgirl.

She sauntered over to her setup, weight carried in her shoulders, consolidating her already intimidatingly attractive butch energy, sanitised her hands and pulled on a clean pair of gloves. “Come on over,” she said, grabbing a disposable razor from a box. “I’ll just need to make sure the area is shaven, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” you replied, joining her by the leather chair, covered by a sheet of cellophane. It was a relief to see all the hygiene precautions taken in the shop. Eivor picked up a disinfectant wipe.

“Left thigh, if I remember correctly?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

She dropped to one knee – wasn’t that a fucking sight – and wiped down the expanse of your thigh before gliding the razor over the flesh.

Hesitantly, you asked her what the general procedure was, desperately trying to divert your thoughts from the sapphic spiral they were travelling down.

“Alright, after I’ve finished here I’ll apply the stencil. You’ll get to check if you like the placement, and if you don’t I’ll keep going until you’re happy with it. It’s a big piece, so we’ll have to split this up into two sessions, as we discussed alongside payment.” She brushed away the loose hairs and peach fuzz. “I’ll do the linework this session, and the shading next time.” With one final pass of the razor she pulled back, tossing it into a bin.

Eivor then picked up a sheet of thin paper with the sketch printed on it. She plucked a purple pen from her table. “Give me a few minutes to trace the stencil, then we’ll apply it and see how you like it.” You nodded, trying to focus on your breathing.

While she traced over each line of the sketch, she kindly attempted to soothe your fears with small talk. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of a ‘gladiolus’ before our consultation. Any reason why you chose it?”

You smiled. “They represent strength. I finally got through a rough spell and wanted something to celebrate with,” you explained, heart skipping a beat at the soft expression on the artist’s face.

“All the more reason to get this perfect then,” she said with a grin. The way the scar on her upper lip quirked was positively adorable. A couple minutes passed and she re-capped the pen. “Stand up straight for me, darling.” Oh.

Cheeks burning with bashfulness, you complied. Eivor took a second to angle the stencil before smoothing it over your thigh, leaving a purple outline once she removed the paper. “Just have a look in that mirror over there and tell me if you’re happy, okay?”

You walked over to the mirror and stared at your thigh. The tattoo was large – which you expected, with the amount of detail in it – and perfectly central, the loose petals appearing to float down the length of your thigh. “Perfect,” you breathed out, giving the woman a thumbs-up.

Eivor switched over her gloves and gestured for you to take a seat on the chair. “Get comfy, then. Do you have water?” Nodding, you took out your water bottle from your handbag. “Brilliant. Still want to do this?”

“Hell yeah.” Weirdly, the nerves about the pain (not about the sexy artist) had almost wholly subsided, leaving you brimming with anticipation.

She poured some jet black ink into small caps, no larger than the tip of your thumb. “Remember to breathe through it and hold still, yeah? You picked a smart place for your first tattoo, not too close to the bone.”

“I’ll try.” Eivor opened a sealed packet containing a new, sterilised needle, inserting it into her tattoo machine. She switched it on, the buzz of the machine’s piston filling the room with a gentle hum. Looking up at you, she cocked her brow – if only your gay thoughts could bugger off for two minutes – as if to ask, ready? Affirmatively, you beamed at her.

Dipping the needle into the ink, she pulled the skin of your thigh taut. Immediately, you noted the warmth of her hand on your leg, fighting off a shudder. Then came a mildly painful scratching sensation as she brought the machine to your thigh.

Honestly? It wasn’t bad. Irritating, like an itchy eye, but not drastically unpleasant. You followed Eivor’s advice, keeping your breathing steady, averting your attention to the artwork on the walls, some of which you had seen on her Instagram portfolio. Portraits, flowers, animals, realistic-looking jewellery…the woman had mastered black-and-grey. You knew you picked the right artist. The frown of concentration on her face spoke volumes about her dedication to the art, steeled and intently focused on the lines she was pulling.

When she wiped the area and reached for more ink, she glanced up at your face. “All good?” she asked.

“Yeah, no issues here.”

“Wonderful.” She set back to work, positioning her needle over the flower’s curved stem, dragging it downwards in a slow arc. “Your skin takes ink like butter, by the way.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you breathed out. Her hand suddenly felt a little warmer. Tell me this woman does audiobooks, you thought.

After a few more lines, you tried to pepper in some small talk without breaking her concentration. Fortunately, her bedside manner was immaculate, and she entertained your questions without any grudges.

“Your voice is really soothing. Where abouts are you from?”

“Oh, thank you. I’m from Norway, moved here a few years back.” She grinned at the compliment. “It’s funny, people usually say the opposite about my voice.” You wondered if they were deaf.

“It’s a nice rasp,” you chuckled. Buzzing stopped, more ink.

“I was bitten by a wolf when I was nine,” she explained. Buzzing recommenced, scratching returned. “My larynx never properly healed from it, so I’ve sounded like some chain-smoker since before I hit double-digits, despite never touching a cigarette in my life.”

“You don’t sound like a chain-smoker, though. I mean it.”

Her grin widened. “That actually means a lot.”

An hour passed by, most of it spent in comfortable silence, with Eivor checking in on you occasionally to see how you were coping. Certain patches of nerves stung a little more than others, but none of it was unbearable. That was until her machine passed over a particularly rough area. It fucking killed, the burn of the needle seemingly deeper than anywhere else, the sting infinitely more intense than before. You hissed, gritting your teeth together.

“Ow,” you winced, clutching onto your water bottle in an attempt to relieve the pain, to no avail.

Eivor continued pulling her line, her rasp coming out in a low mantra. “Just breathe through it, nice and slow…” You tried to follow, attempting in vain to relax your shoulders. “Keep holding still for me…” Your breaths came shallow but steadily so, the stinging slowly becoming more endurable. The machine reached the end of the line. “Good girl,” she muttered, blissfully of absent mind.

Good girl.

Oh fuck.

Just when your clearly gay tattoo artist couldn’t get any hotter, she comes out with some hot-girl bullshit like that. And fuck, you didn’t think you had a praise kink before, but now this certainly awakened something. Why, why did it have to sound so good in her husky voice? No, you were absolutely not going to fantasise about your artist, not when her hands were on your skin, on your thigh of all fucking places. God, this stupidly attractive Norwegian butch was making you uncomfortably hot.

When she finally pulled away, sweet bloody reprieve, you took a sip of your water. “That wasn’t fun,” you remarked.

“Took it like a champion, though,” she beamed proudly, clearly unaware of the affect her words had just had on you. “Need a break?”

“Just a minute or two, thank you,” you sighed with relief. Eivor wiped you down and analysed her work.

“We’re just over halfway there,” she commented. Only halfway? Fuck. You allowed your eyes to wander over the black lines, all perfectly smooth from practiced precision. Yeah, this woman was talented.

“I mean, that killed, and that was my thigh…” you trailed off, making her laugh. “What was the most painful tattoo you’ve gotten?”

Eivor answered without hesitation. “My head, without a doubt. Packing solid black into that thing was agony. My fingers killed, too, but all completely worth it.” You couldn’t help but agree with that last part. Her hands looked extremely good, both with and without those gloves.

“I’m guessing places with more nerve endings and by the bone are the worst, then?”

“Definitely. The palm of the hand is the most sensitive, and it’s tough to get right. Ink bleeds, skin bleeds…and if you don’t do it well it’ll just fade. All that pain for nought.”

You gulped down some more water. Ouch. “Duly noted.”

After ninety odd more minutes, Eivor switched off her machine for good, the linework finished and utterly flawless. “All done for this session,” she announced, changing gloves once more to clean and wrap the area. There was minimal irritation around each line, and the wipe felt wonderfully cool against the reddening flesh.

Once she finished placing various equipment in a tub labelled ‘autoclave’, she escorted you to the front desk. You paid half the decided fee of the tattoo and booked your second session for three weeks’ time. Eivor gave you an aftercare kit, explaining in detail how to keep the tattoo clean, how to prevent infection, and to avoid direct exposure to sunlight as much as you could. Eagerly, you listened, trying to drink in as much of her voice as possible before departing.

“I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Take care, (Y/N),” she grinned. From the moment you stepped out of the shop, you knew that grin would be engraved into your mind for the weeks to come.

The second appointment couldn’t have come quickly enough.

You spent an embarrassing quantity of time thinking about your dreamy tattoo artist, right up until the day you walked back into the shop, this time free of any concerns pertaining to the tattoo. The gentleman from before recognised you and asked how the tattoo was holding up, if you’d had any issues keeping it clean, to which you replied all was good. Only this time, Eivor came to greet you by the front desk.

“How’s it going?” she asked, welcoming as before.

“Really good. I just hope I’ve been doing everything right,” you chuckled, anxiously glancing down at your thigh. The redness had completely disappeared a few days after your first appointment, the black ink proudly meandering over your skin.

Eivor smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, you’d know if you haven’t. From here it looks like you’ve done a fantastic job of keeping it clean, anyway.” You followed her to her studio, mentally noting how she was wearing an even tighter black t-shirt than last time, the fabric clinging to the defined contours of her muscled back, biceps, abs… Needless to say, the gay thoughts had returned at full-force.

As before, she shaved and disinfected your thigh, but instead of a stencil she had the full greyscale reference images for the design printed and taped to a metal beam above her table. She took careful time in diluting various caps of black ink into a plethora of greys, experience shining through as she added precise amounts of diluter to each cap. There was something addictive about watching the woman work, with how methodical she was, how delicately she handled the bottles of ink.

When she unpacked a needle, you noted the shape was different to before. “Now, some parts are gonna be only a little rougher than before. Others will suck, I’ll warn you now,” she mentioned as you positioned yourself on the chair.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” you joked. Eivor laughed.

“You handled it like a trooper before. I have zero doubts you’ll do the same today.”

And so she began, making multiple passes with the machine unlike before, packing in the different shades of grey in front of her, scratching into the already broken skin. It wasn’t massively painful, but Eivor was right – last time was a breeze in comparison. You rested your eyes and bore the pain, focusing on the faint music playing from the shop’s reception.

As previously, she was ever considerate, checking up on you as she worked – albeit not as frequently, now that you were accustomed to the needles – and encouraging you through the nastier patches. You tried your hardest to not look at your thigh, wanting the final result to be a surprise, but over time it grew increasingly difficult not to sneak a glance at her hands. Merely the thought of them flustered you (pathetic, you knew) and nothing would be more embarrassing than drifting off into a less than appropriate fantasy about the woman when she was simply being professional.

Time blurred together amongst your inner dilemma – to look or not to look – until Eivor’s signature rasp caught your attention. “Time for your least favourite part,” she said, giving you a knowing look, positioning her needle in one of the petals over the area that hurt like a bitch previously.

“Oh god, I forgot about that area.”

“Just own the pain and keep still, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Eivor smirked: a wicked thing that could have killed every sapphic in a mile radius. “Squirm and I’ll pin you down. I’ve had to do it before, and I’ll do it again.”

That, under different circumstances, would be an appealing notion.

Closing your eyes once more, you tried to decipher the song lyrics resonating through the shop’s hall, grimacing when the needle penetrated the skin. Just focus on Rihanna, focus on Rihanna…

“That’s…not so bad, actually,” you mutter, not entirely self-assured of the words leaving your lips, hoping some placebo affect would take place.

Eivor chuckled, dipping into another shade. “You sound convincing,” she drawled.

“I’m – ow – serious… Okay fuck, that’s way worse.”

“Shh, it’ll be over soon. Find something to focus on.”

So you did, on what happened to be the first thing in your immediate line of sight when you re-opened your eyes: Eivor’s bicep. God, her shirt strained around the muscle, black fabric against tanned skin and the deep green runes littering her arm. Perhaps the ink had something to do with her ancestry, given that the woman said she was Norwegian – that or she was just a mythology nerd. Your eyes trailed over the spirals of script, the perfectly concentric circles. Mind wandering, the idea that she may have tattoos on her back and front piqued your interest. Then came the delightful image of Eivor without a shirt. Pinning you down. Fuck.

Before long the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache where the needle had worked at your skin. “All done, darling,” Eivor murmured, wiping the patch. Darling. You knew it was simply her bedside manner, trying to keep you as relaxed as possible, but damn was it having the polar opposite effect. Cheeks feeling impossibly hot, you unscrewed the cap of your bottle and took a sizeable gulp of water. She gave you a moment to breathe, now that the most difficult part was out of the way. Still flustered, you drained half your bottle.

Concern plastered on her face, Eivor leaned closer, inspecting your face intently. “Are you feeling faint?” she asked, evidently worried. “It’s important you tell me if you are—”

“No, no, I’m fine, really.” You were stuttering, annoyed with yourself that you made her worry. “Just being weird. I promise.”

“You do?” Her eyebrows were still upturned, not entirely believing you.

You nodded frantically. “Yeah, really. Please don’t worry.”

Taking a slow breath, she restarted the machine, relief flashing across her features. She gestured for permission to continue tattooing, which you granted, and set back to work.

Cursing internally, you let your eyes flutter shut, thoughts full of nothing but ‘good girls’ and ‘darlings’ in a husky Norwegian accent. Numbing yourself to the needles, you drifted off into slumber.

“Hey, (Y/N)?”

A gentle pressure squeezed at your hand, slowly stirring you, bringing you back to the world of the living. Yawning, you opened your eyes, gaze brought to a gloved hand atop your own.

“Good evening,” Eivor said, retracting her hand and watching as you gasped and scanned the studio for a clock in a panic. Evening?

“Kidding,” she laughed. “I finished up ten minutes ago.” You shot her a half-hearted glare through sleepy eyelids.

“That was mean,” you pouted. She grinned.

“I do stab people for a living.”

Snorting, you swung your legs over the side of the chair, stretching them to regain a semblance of sensation. Chest pounding with excitement, you looked to the mirror at the side of the room, then at Eivor, silently asking permission to peak at the finished tattoo. She held out her hand in gesticulation.

Giddy with anticipation, you walked over and… Holy shit.

It was beautiful.

Each shade of grey blended into one another in a perfect harmony, so seamlessly that the black outline from before was barely visible. The shadows underneath each leaf, each petal looked real. Every speckle and wrinkle on the petals shone through, love and attention going into every marking. The falling petals were akin to a photograph, with the light grey background wash tying them to the main flowers, each little shadow appearing to give them different depths. It was beyond anything you imagined. All that pain, mental and physical, turned into a lifetime of beauty.

You didn’t realise you were crying until the salt of tears rolled into your awe-parted mouth.

“I’m, well… Wow.” Beaming, you turned to face your artist, who looked at her artwork with pride. “Thank you, Eivor. Thank you so much.”

She shook her head and offered you a box of tissues, from which you took one gladly. “I’m just honoured to have helped you lay that chapter of your life to rest. May the sword-lilies battle any shreds of it that remain.”

Stunned by her poetic inclination, you dried your eyes in silence, lips curved into a joyous smile. Meanwhile, she removed her gloves.

“You have tissues at the ready. I’m guessing people cry a lot here?” you asked, finally prying your eyes away from the masterpiece on your thigh.

“Mostly from the pain,” she remarked.

“You know, you could just lie to me so I don’t feel like such a fucking sap.”

The sound that left Eivor’s mouth in response was nothing if not angelic. She practically howled in hearty laughter, echoing through her studio, her eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t think it possible for your grin to widen further still, but her outburst was contagious in the best way.

“I’m glad you’re happy with it. Truly,” she breathed out, chest stilling from her fit.

“It’s beautiful. Happy is an understatement.”

Eivor made her way over to the desk in the corner of the studio, where a graphics tablet lay alongside a stylus. “Now, before I dress it, I’m legally required to ask you if I have permission to photograph the tattoo for advertisement purposes. I appreciate it’s a personal subject matter and completely understand if—”

“Go for it,” you shrugged.

“Are you certain?” You nodded.

“Of course. It’s a work of art.” The smile she gave you was genuine.

“This’ll only take a minute. Thank you, really.”

She knelt down and snapped a picture with the tablet, checking the quality. “All done.” Eivor then proceeded to sanitise her hands and slip on one last pair of gloves, grabbing the wipes and plastic wrap from her station. “The photo will be uploaded to the shop’s website and my professional Instagram, if that’s alright with you. Completely anonymous, of course.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Although, it’ll be weird seeing my leg on my feed.” She chuckled.

“Feel free to email or DM if you have any concerns with the healing.” Patting your leg, she stood up to her full height, placing her gloves in a biohazard ziplock. “Well, I’m honoured to have given you your first tattoo.”

“Honoured to be your…canvas?”

And just like that, your time with the artist was up. You watched wistfully as she put together an aftercare pack at the front desk, your previously overjoyed expression drifting into a sad one. After paying, you thanked her one final time.

“Take care, søta,” she said with a wink.

The very moment you arrived back home, you whipped out a Norwegian-to-English translator and immediately tried to replicate her pronunciation of the word she called you, blushing profusely when discovering it meant ‘cutie’. And upon opening your cleaning pack, you found an addition that wasn’t present in your previous bundle:

A small slip of paper. On one side, a mobile number. On the other, in beautifully neat cursive,

I’d love to take you to dinner. Text me if you’re interested?

Yours, Eivor

#eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #female eivor #tattoo parlor au #modern au #ac valhalla

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stalksbyakuyatogami · 3 years

Note

Hi Mod Toko, may I request Maki, Mikan, and Miu getting a butch makeover from their girlfriend?

Maki, Mikan, And Miu Getting A Butch Makeover

(｡’▽’｡)♡ FINALLY

Maki Harukawa

"No."

"Come on, Maki. Please? Pretty please? I promise that it'll only be light!"

This is the 30th time this week that you asked her to do it, but she still refuses. She's not a big fan of makeup, that's a first. But more like... she doesn't know how to use it. And that's why you'd like to give her some. She'd look great, you thought. And you just had to bribe her with something.

"No."

"Okay, how about this. You let me do your make up, and then after this, I promise to never ever offer you something like this ever again."

That's a lot of evers. But who knows? Maybe she'd like it and will ask for more? It's like reverse psychology. So you just had to do your best.

"...fine."

It took almost a minute for her to respond, but thankfully she agreed to it.

Later...

"Tilting my head like this is straining."

You were currently applying liquid foundation on her. And she already says that it was sickeningly wet, and her face just a bit sticky. You tell her that it was just her, and the liquid wasn't that sticky. And when she opened her eyes, she noticed that her skin got smoother. Oh wow.

"No, no, no! Don't open your eyes yet—! Aw man, the eyeliner got messed up."

"You can just erase it, I don't mind."

"Yeah, but it's going to— okay, okay."

The final result. She finally got to see the entirety of your work. Wow she's... pretty.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah... I look different. A bit different." She touched her face, wondering how such equipments can do this witchcraft.

"You look beautiful."

She tried to hide her blush by looking away, but the blush you put wasn't helping it at all. So she smiled at you instead and kissed you on the lips. "Thank you."

"You put lipstick on me, but I'm not gonna wash it off for now." Who knows, maybe she'll ask you to do it again sometime.

"Next is this outfit! Ooh, and let's cut your hair shorter too!"

"Wait—! Hold on!"

Mikan Tsumiki

"Mikan babe. How about I give you a makeover?"

A makeover? She doesn't know how to put it in words, and she doesn't know whether she should accept or reject that. But it would be rude if she rejected it, and the nerve of her to let you treat her.

But in your case, it was more than fine for her to agree to your proposition. She's so busy being a nurse, that she almost doesn't have time for herself. And so it begins.

You suggested curling her hair. Her hair was uneven at first, but it was getting long and finally the sane length. Wouldn't it be breathtaking to her with curly/wavy hair? You can cut it too if it's okay with the both of you.

Give her jeans, I'm sure she'll look good in it. You never see her in jeans. Always skirts. Also!! You should make her wear a V-neck shirt. No, not the cotton one, the one with the fancy cloth, you know. But! If it's neither of you two's type, wear matching strawberry dresses! In the end, Mikan would look in the mirror and appreciate how beautiful she is for the first time in a while. She would feel appreciated, loved, and important.

She might burst into tears from thanking you, please don't make her cry! She'd ruin her make-up.

Miu Iruma

Gorgeous girl genius. But can she get any more gorgeous? Yes she can.

"Do I really need this? This is an insult!" She exclaimed. ,"Yes you do, babe. I wanna see you in another style... or something like that. Just bear with me, please?"

Miu wasn't entirely opposed to the idea, but it was new to her, and she doesn't think that she can get any more pretty.

She always wears bright colors, along with her blonde hair. You figured that Miu would be the "goth girlfriend" type and that she wears all black even just sometimes, but no. Miu was Miu. And it was time for her to dress as a goth gf. She says that all black clothing kinda makes her look like an evil villain. Not you though, you think that she looks like a sexy motorcycle, vroom vroom.

Dyeing her hair black with some highlights of her preferred color on it, thiccer eyeliner, ghostly makeup, black lipstick, all of that shit was applied to your girlfriend.

Black clothes (i think she'd look good in pants) and of course, demonias. The effort you gave was immense. Getting all of the trouble to give her a makeover was exhausting.

But it all pays off in the end.

Your girlfriend was gorgeous, breathtaking, every compliment you could think of. You never knew that she would be this stunning in those clothes. She was a bit shy at first. Teasing you about thinking lewd thoughts with a blush on her face. You brushed it away though, too focused on her look.

Once she settled a bit, she finally realized that you were really admiring her look. She blushes, "Do I look okay?" Okay? She was a goddess. Show her off, take her on a date. Wink.

oh? what is this? Mod Toko uploading? Thank you for requesting, anon!

-Mod Toko [Angie shift]

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madam-melon-meow · 3 years

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Bisexual Kyoshi is something that can be so personal, actually

Panel edit by @flagellasturbation

[image I.D. : An edit of a comic panel of avatar Kyoshi. On the left in the image is a close-up of Kyoshi from the torso up, contained within an upside-down trapezoid shape. She wears her full battle uniform of olive and emerald robes, dark gloves and bracers, and a golden headpiece in a fan-like shape. Her eyes are the same emerald shade as her robes, she has black hair billowing to the left edge of the image, and her black eyebrows have been dramatically lengthened by black face paint. Her face and neck are artificially whitened with chalky makeup, she has black winged eyeliner, red eyeshadow that sweeps upwards to her temples and down the sides of her nose, and red lipstick outlined in black. This is the classic Kyoshi makeup. Her arms are crossed, the left arm behind her head pointing a golden fan away from the viewer, the right arm extended in front of her face, another golden fan pointed towards the viewer. She appears to be looking upwards and towards the right of the image. Above Kyoshi’s eye level and in the top right of the image is a comic text box. It reads in all caps: “even avatar Kyoshi- who by all accounts loved men and women- was unable to effect any kind of real progress.” The background art and color has been replaced with the Bisexual Flag, a thick horizontal line of pink on top, stopping at Kyoshi’s cheek level, then a thinner line of purple ending at her shoulders, and a thick line of blue that extends to the bottom of the image. End I.D.]

(If someone does not find my image I.D. sufficient, please let me know. This is my first time trying to make such a thing, as i am a lurker, not a poster)

Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee, page 99 (text copy / pasted from the b&n ebook version)

““Are those . . . fire lilies?” he said, a wide, knowing grin spreading across his face.

Kyoshi flushed beet red. “Stop it,” she said.

“That’s right,” Yun said. “The Ember Island tourism minister brought a bunch when he visited two weeks ago. I can’t believe you simply shred the flowers once they dry out. I guess nothing goes to waste in this house.”

“Knock it off,” Kyoshi snapped. But it was too hard keeping the corners of her lips from curling upward.

“Knock what off?” he said, enjoying her reaction. “I’m just commenting on a fragrance I’ve come to particularly enjoy.”

It was an inside reference that only the two of them shared. Rangi didn’t know. She hadn’t been there in the gifting room eight months ago while Kyoshi arranged a vast quantity of fire lilies sent by an admiral in the Fire Navy, one of Hei-Ran’s friends.

Yun had spent the afternoon watching Kyoshi work. Against every scrap of her better judgment, she’d allowed him to lie down on the floor and rest his head in her lap while she plucked deformed leaves and trimmed stems to the right length. Had anyone caught the two of them like that, there would have been a scandal that not even the Avatar could have recovered from.

That day, entranced by Yun’s upside-down features dappled with the flower petals she’d teasingly sprinkled over his face, she’d almost leaned down and kissed him. And he knew it. Because he’d almost reached up and kissed her.

They never spoke of it afterward, the shared impulse that had nearly crashed both of their carriages. It was too . . . well, they each had their duties was a good way to put it. That moment did not fit anywhere among their responsibilities.

But since then, whenever the two of them were in the presence of fire lilies, Yun’s eyes would dart toward the flowers repeatedly until he was sure Kyoshi noticed. She would try unsuccessfully to keep a straight face, the heat coloring her neck, and he’d sigh as if to mourn what could have been.

Today was no different. With a wistful blush on his own cheeks, Yun stared her down until her defenses broke and she let out a giggle through her nose.

“There’s that beautiful smile,” he said. He pressed his heels into the floor, sliding up against the wall, and straightened his rumpled shirt. “Kyoshi, trust me when I say this: If it turns out not to be me, I’ll be glad it’s you.”

~~~~~~~~~

Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee, page 210 (text copy / pasted from the b&n ebook version)

“You think you don’t deserve peace and happiness and good things, but you do!” Rangi yelled. “You, Kyoshi! Not the Avatar, but you!”

She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around Kyoshi’s waist. The embrace was a clever way to hide her face.

“Do you have any idea how painful it’s been for me to follow you on this journey where you’re so determined to punish yourself?” she said. “Watching you treat yourself like an empty vessel for revenge, when I’ve known you since you were a servant girl who couldn’t bend a pebble? The Avatar can be reborn. But you can’t, Kyoshi. I don’t want to give you up to the next generation. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Kyoshi realized she’d had it all wrong. Rangi was a true believer. But her greatest faith had been for her friends, not her assignment. She pulled Rangi in closer. She thought she heard a slight, contented sigh come from the other girl.

“I wish I could give you your due,” Rangi muttered after some time had passed. “The wisest teachers. Armies to defend you. A palace to live in.”

Kyoshi raised an eyebrow. “The Avatar gets a palace?”

“No, but you deserve one.”

“I don’t need it,” Kyoshi said. She smiled into Rangi’s hair, the soft strands caressing her lips. “And I don’t need an army. I have you.”

Psh,” Rangi scoffed. “A lot of good I’ve been so far. If I were better at my job you would never feel scared. Only loved. Adored by all.”

Kyoshi gently nudged Rangi’s chin upward. She could no more prevent herself from doing this than she could keep from breathing, living, fearing.

“I do feel loved,” she declared.

Rangi’s beautiful face shone in reflection. Kyoshi leaned in and kissed her.

A warm glow mapped Kyoshi’s veins. Eternity distilled in a single brush of skin. She thought she would never be more alive than now.

And then—

The shock of hands pushing her away. Kyoshi snapped out of her trance, aghast.

Rangi had flinched at the contact. Repelled her. Viscerally, reflexively.

Oh no. Oh no.

This couldn’t—not after everything they’d been through—this couldn’t be how it—

Kyoshi shut her eyes until they hurt. She wanted to shrink until she vanished within the cracks of the earth. She wanted to become dust and blow away in the wind.

But the sound of laughter pulled her back. Rangi was coughing, drowning herself with her own tears and mirth. She caught her breath and retook Kyoshi by the hips, turning to the side, offering up the smooth, unblemished skin of her throat.

“That side of my face is busted up, stupid,” she whispered in the darkness. “Kiss me where I’m not hurt.”

~~~~~

I include both these quotes because i've seen a few posts about the “gigantic lesbian” avatar, and although i am glad my sapphic sisters feel connected to Kyoshi (as well they should!), that doesn't mean i wish to simply be quiet on the matter of her textual bisexuality. I understand that not everyone has read her novels, nor has everyone read legend of Korra comics, but Kyoshi is *textually* bisexual.

Kyoshi had a loving romantic relationship with her firebending friend Rangi, but this does not erase her feelings for her earthbending friend Yun, even if neither of them were able to properly express it due to their respective “status”. (For context if you haven’t read, the masters believed that Yun was the avatar, and though he was bodyguarded by Rangi, and though Kyoshi was his servent, the three of them were simiar ages and thus close friends until the discovery of Kyoshi’s true ability destroyed their former lives). Hell, Kyoshi and Rangi do not become intimate until after fleeing their former lives. Who is to say what would have happened, had Yun not been captured by father glowworm ?

I know that there is a chance you will scoff at this, will write this off as comphet, accuse me of disproportionately weighting an almost-kiss with a true relationship, but these above quotes (as well as the comic panel from “the legend of korra: turf wars- part 1”) serve as proof that Kyoshi, “by all accounts loved men and women” (see panel directly below)

[image I.D. : the same comic panel as the edit above, this one without the bisexual flag edited in. Directly behind Kyoshi, within the upside-down trapezoid shape, is an olive to lime gradient, darker around her head and lighter near the bottom. Around and to the right in the image, outside of the trapezoid, is an aerial shot of buildings within an Earth Kingdom city, and what appears to be the lines of troops on the ground far below. the text box in the image is the same, but I have underlined the word “men” in blue, the word “and” in purple, and the word “women” in pink, to reflect the bisexual flag. End I.D.]

I am making such a big deal over this because Kyoshi is a massive figure, her long shadow cast over Aang’s life alongside Roku’s, and even before her novels came out there were often jokes about her “bloodthirsty” nature. I implore you to read the novels and see why Kyoshi believed in deadly justice at times, but also so you can see what a dynamic, loving, and beautiful character she is.

Some members of fandom have taken a “step on me” attitude towards Kyoshi, who has, even if the 7 feet tall thing is more fanon than canon, been explicitly described as “exceptionally tall”, and “towering” over others. This “strong woman who will break me and I thank them” attitude is one that butch &/or physically imposing sapphics, as well as trans women with similar statures to Kyoshi have expressed discomfort when applied to themselves and characters like them. I would love for more people to acknowledge her flaws and multi-faceted nature, that she is more than a “warrior goddess”, just as Aang is more than a living relic. Flattening her out to the easily-fetishable parts erases the depth of her character and the complexity of circumstances that led to the instances of deadly force.

There are very few bisexual characters in media, especially women, and especially in children’s media. Bisexual women have often been caricatured as loose, promiscuous, good for a threesome and not much else. (This is mot to say that i think any lesser of my fellow bisexuals who are proudly promiscious, nor can an actual live bisexual person be considered a stereotype for living their life, but media’s portayal of us as obsessed with desire is incredibly harmful). Knowing that a strong, beautiful, and important character in the avatar universe is a bisexual woman is amazing, even more so to have her first lady-love described in the novels with such care. F. C. Yee, the author of these novels, has my eternal gratitude. I sincerely hope that the new generation of fans, whether they are drawn to the cartoon or even the hypothetical live action show, will pick up these novels and discover the kind of bisexual character that I wish existed in my early days as a reader, and if a small fraction of them resonate with Kyoshi’s reciprocal on Yun and love for Rangi, then the world becomes a little bit brighter for it.

I mentioned her importance for the simple reason that Kyoshi IS important with the text of ATLA. As one of the avatars, she is one of the most historically important figures in that universe, one of the few avatars that Aang knows by name, and one of the only avatars to speak through his body. The fact that she has two whole novels to herself testifies to that effect, making her bisexual representation all the more important than a simple background character might be.

If or when the ATLA live action tv show occurs, we can expect some mention of Kyoshi. After all, there is a whole episode dedicated to exploring one of her missions, and the way that the descendants of her enemy have recolored history. It is my sincere desire that enough discussion is made about her canon bisexuality , that fandom trumphets it from the roof with as much force as crackshipping zukka, that when she does make it to the screen, there is some subtle nod in her bisexuality’s direction, even if it is something as meta as casting a bisexual actress for her. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

edit by @flagellasturbation

[image I.D. : An edit of a comic panel of avatar Kyoshi. This is like the first image, Kyoshi and the text box of the comic panel untouched, the background color and art replaced with the bisexual flag. However, this version has the words “by all accounts” blown up large and placed diagonally in the image, directly under Kyoshi’s face and stretching from one side of the image to the other. The bottom third of the image is similarly obscured, the words “men” , “and” , “women” blown up large enough to fill the panel and cover most of Kyoshi’s torso, as well as the purple and blue areas of the background flag. End I.D.]

#Avatar Kyoshi #Rangi #Yun #The Rise of Kyoshi #The Shadow of Kyoshi #father glowworm #bisexual

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skygemspeaks · 4 years

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okay you know what, i literally have not been able to stop thinking about the au where ua is an all girls school, (as well as my post about fem!izuku and fem!all might) so here are some things:

izuku being raised by her single dad, and just completely latching onto all might as her first positive female role model and accidentally calling her “mom” within a month of meeting her. (all might bursts into tears right there and immediately adopts izuku as her own) izuku’s dad falls head over heels for all might from the moment he meets her.

trans girl bakugou who’s been told all her life that she’s going to be an amazing hero one day and that she’s sure to get into shiketsu high with no problems whatsoever. her teachers are all puzzled when she says that she wants to apply to UA, and they all feel the need to remind her that it’s an all-girls’ school. she just sneers at them like they’re stupid and reminds them that she is a girl. she knows what they’re getting at and she’s not having any of it.

izuku is the only one that doesn’t blink twice when she says that she’s going to get into ua, and it gets on bakugou’s nerves that fucking deku is the only one that believes in her

kirishima’s obsession with manliness is changed for chivalry in here. she’s a fabulous butch that has half the class crushing on her within the first half hour of meeting her.

normally i’m a momojirou shipper BUT please consider: jirou and tokoyami as cute goth gfs

endeavor prides herself on her beauty as much as she does her strength and prowess as a pro hero, and it grates on her that her daughter’s beautiful face was marred by her stupid husband at a young age. looks are an important aspect of furthering one’s career in the hero industry, and she’s still bitter that her masterpiece is permanently damaged.

todoroki is just so angry at how endeavor had treated her dad, and she’s angry that the world doesn’t care enough about male victims of domestic abuse

aizawa and present mic are still guys because even though i love the idea of female characters who are loud and obnoxious and don’t care about being conventionally attractive, what i love even more is the idea of these two disaster gays having to stress over raising their twenty gremlin daughters into the amazing heroes they’re destined to be and this au is just an excuse for me to be self-indulgent so don’t @ me. in fact, all the teachers other than all might remain as their canon genders

shinsou is erasermic’s daughter and she gets into ua on recommendation so she gets to do an entrance test that lets her full potential shine through. she’s in class a from the beginning

iida’s big and buff and still very much intent on inheriting her big brother’s hero name. and given that she comes from a rich family as well, she and yaomomo have known each other since childhood and are very close friends who end up becoming girlfriends before the end of their first year!!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #all girls school au #class 1a

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51kas81 · 3 years

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Twelve Dreams of Dr Sardonicus by Spirit

My parents were desperate for me to like classical music, but I just couldn’t buy into the length of the pieces. Then they played me Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber and it was so beautiful, I cried. My school music teacher, Mr Vassal, asked for our favourite composers; I said Samuel Barber and he laughed at me. But eventually everyone caught up.

There was a Beatles versus Stones vibe at school. I was on the Beatles side. The first single I bought was Wild Thing by the Troggs and the first album was Bookends by Simon and Garfunkel. I loved Father and Son by Cat Stevens, because it made me think of me and my dad. My tastes weren’t shocking; they just needed to open up. Then, when I was 17, I went to hospital to have my tonsils out and my brother bought me some records and this mobile turntable in a suitcase.

Twelve Dreams of Dr Sardonicus by Spirit had the most amazing way of manipulating stereo. I was just blown away. I have to thank my brother; he turned me on to Joni Mitchell, Andy Pratt and Little Feat and opened up my boundaries.

Little Brother, Little Sister

My mother, Helen Shingler, was famous during my teens for playing Madame Maigret in a BBC series based on the Georges Simenon stories. My father, Seafield Head, was a producer and director at Verity Films, the documentary film company. Every year, a family friend’s mum would hire this huge barn and put on a play. I had a bit part in The Jackdaw of Rheims. The next year, I got to be the Emperor in The Emperor’s New Clothes. As I walked through the audience, all heads turned towards me and I remember thinking: “This is what I want to do for a living.”

I applied to the National Youth Theatre and the Central School of Speech and Drama, but I didn’t get in, so my father hired me as a runner and assistant editor. Working in the cutting rooms was fascinating. Then I enrolled at The Young Stagers at the Thorndike theatre in Leatherhead, run by this lovely woman called Joan MacAlpine. She directed me in an extraordinary piece called Little Brother, Little Sister, which got me into the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art. My teacher said: “If anybody can make me cry, I’ll take them to the theatre.” I did my piece again and made her cry.

The Rocky Horror Show

I remember being taken to The Rocky Horror Show on Kings Road when I was at drama school in my late teens. Tim Curry was playing Dr Frank-N-Furter – the role that he repeated in the film. Watching The Rocky Horror Show ignited something in my core. I knew I had acting in my blood because of my mother. Now I couldn’t wait to finish drama school and try to make it in the real world.

I finally got to play Dr Frank-N-Furter when The Rocky Horror Show came to the Piccadilly theatre in 1990. The exciting thing about acting is that you shouldn’t know what’s coming out of the actor’s mouth next – and I didn’t hold back. I just let whatever was going on inside of me come out in the character. That was life-changing for me as an actor. It made me realise that there’s nowhere that you can’t go.

Friends would come to see me perform and later say that they hardly recognised me, I was so out of character. As an actor, that’s a huge compliment.

Judi Dench

Judi Dench and Maurice Denham in 1966’s Talking to a Stranger. Photograph: Everett Collection/Alamy

One of Judi Dench’s early roles was this show on BBC Two called Talking to a Stranger, with Michael Bryant, Maurice Denham and Margery Mason. It’s about this family who are at odds with each other. Each of the four parts focuses on one family member’s view of what is going on around them. I thought it was beautiful, amazing and absolutely genius and I just fell in love with Judi. I thought that she was the most amazing actress – and still do. Judi taught me that acting can be at its best when it is very subtly underplayed. The core of believing an actor is buying into the fact that they’re not acting.

I got to play the rather unpleasant suitor of one of her on-screen daughters in Love in a Cold Climate on the BBC in the early 00s. I’m sure I must have said to Judi: ‘I think you’re so wonderful.’ Actors need appreciation and recognition. I suppose for me that will always be for Buffy, because Buffy was so different and so pivotal for its time. The episode called The Body, where Buffy’s mum dies, is the most extraordinary piece of writing and misdirection. I’m very grateful to have done so many evocative things that so many people have latched on to.

Paul Newman

Robert Redford and Paul Newman in 1969’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Photograph: Photos 12/Alamy

I love Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Each act is so brilliantly put together; it’s a stunning piece of writing. Both Robert Redford and Paul Newman are phenomenal, but Newman especially I’ve always loved, because he’s so believable that he instantly transports you into the story. I also loved Henry Fonda in Once Upon a Time in the West, in which he plays the baddie, which is unusual.

I often get cast as baddies. I don’t know why. I play Rupert Mannion on [the Apple TV+ sitcom] Ted Lasso. He’s a particularly unpleasant character and a complete narcissist, but you know where he’s coming from. To make somebody believable, you have to see their point of view. You don’t need to like them, but you have to be on board with what’s driving them.

I’m also in an episode of the new series of Back with David Mitchell and Robert Webb. I get to play a totally self-absorbed character called Charismatic Mike, who was great fun to play. It’s always been my theory that actors are hugely insecure, which is why we love dressing up and being someone else, because we don’t have to be in our own heads and bodies. Then we can express things that we may feel deep down and blame it on the character.

Lord of the Flies

At drama school, I really liked the people on the stage-managing course who were studying things like costume, lighting and prop-making. People used to say: you have to behave like a star to be thought of as a star. So, traditionally, a lot of actors take stage managers for granted.

I get very cross with actors who just throw their clothes on the floor. I said to one actor recently: “Costume are here before you, setting up your clothes, and they’re here after you’ve gone. Pick up your clothes, put them on a hanger in your cupboard. It’s not a big deal.” Teamwork is important.

At school, one of the books that blew me away was Lord of the Flies. It’s also about teamwork and not necessarily someone standing in front becoming the leader. In your teens, the world is yours to do what you want with. As you grow up, you realise you’re just part of something much bigger. Now more than ever, life should be about teamwork and for the cause of the greater good.

School’s Out Forever is available on digital from 15 February and DVD and Blu-ray from 12 April

#anthony stewart head #anthony head #headnews21 #interview #school’s out forever

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transxfiles · 4 years

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y’all i cannot express in words how excited i am for the new lumberjanes show to come out.

i know a lot of folks on tumblr are hearing abt lumberjanes for the first time through the news tv show, but it’s based on a bunch of comics by lgbt creators, and those comics have helped me work through so much difficult stuff, and i don’t think it’d be a stretch to say that lumberjanes (and the current fandom around it) has actually saved my life.

lumberjanes is a comic about a bunch of girls who go to a summer camp and solve mysteries and fight monsters and just hang out together and are best friends, and i love it so much. right off the bat, two girls are lesbians in a loving, healthy, caring relationship. the camp director is a butch lesbian. another girl is trans and her arc has nothing to do with being trans - she’s just one of the girls, and she’s trans too, and it’s part of her identity but she never experiences suffering around it. later on she helps a young nonbinary character realize that they’re nonbinary, and then the nonbinary character gets to join the girls at camp, and they’re so much happier there. there’s an entire section of panels about pronouns, but it’s juts a casual discussion, where one girl says, “what’re pronouns” and another says, “oh, they’re just words we use to describe ourselves, like ‘he/him’ and ‘they/them’ and ‘she/her’” and then the nonbinary character says “i'd like to use they/them pronouns please” and everyone accepts them. there are so many characters of color. there are so many diverse family groups (something we see in an arc where all of the parents get to visit their kids at camp for a day) including a girl who only has a mom, and a girl who has two dads, and a girl who has a mom and a dad and whose abuela lives with her family, and big families and small families and lots of siblings and only children.

and lumberjanes is so sweet. it’s complex and well-written and absolutely hilarious, but it’s also so sweet and kind and soft and reading it feels like being hugged and handed a plate of homemade cookies. it’s about friendship and the complexities that entails. the entire motto fo the camp the girls go to is ‘friendship to the max’ and the story reflects that. and the girls get to be loud and goofy and wacky and wild, which is something we don’t see a lot in media. and they get to be soft and scared and sad, too, and then they get to grow from these experiences, and they get to learn and explore and be free. and that’s something i'd never really seen before, not represented in such an honest way. reading lumberjanes set me free. i found these comics in early middle school, when i was going through a really hard time both socially and with my own personal identity. i live in the bible belt, and i go to a school that isn’t accepting of lgbt kids at all. i'd recently been outed to my grade as lesbian by one of the girls in half of my classes, and in the meantime i was also dealing with my own personal gender struggles, specifically waves and waves of dysphoria that i was having a hard time understanding and defining, because i knew i didn’t want to be a girl or a boy, but i had no idea what that meant, and i had no idea that there was a third option, or a fourth option, or a fifth option, or thousands of options, because i didn’t really get the fluidity of gender, yet, and i didn’t understand that i could apply it to myself. but then i saw the characters in lumberjanes, i saw girls who loved girls and were proud of it, so incredibly proud of it, i saw kids who were realizing they didn’t identify with the gender binary and that they didn’t have to, and i do truly think that saved me. because there was a time when i was considering just ending it because i didn’t understand. and then i read lumberjanes, and it saved me.

and those are just the comics - the current fandom surrounding them has been so loving and caring and supportive of me ever since i joined it. we’re small - there’s only maybe forty of us, and the number of us who are actually content creators is so much smaller. when i first joined the fandom, we only had maybe twenty fics on ao3. now we have 93. i’m proud to say i’ve written fifteen of those, and i'm so, so happy to have found and talked with the people who’ve written the other 78. last year, when i started engaging with other lumberjanes fans online through tumblr, discord, and even the ao3 comments section, i was going through a really difficult time at school. it was my first year in high school and it was like the homophobia and transphobia were amped up to 200%, and people who i thought loved me left me, and so many of my closest friends had to leave the school to save themselves, and i felt so incredibly alone. so i said “fuck it” and i made a discord account and i started talking to some people i’d spent years admiring from afar. i spent hours goofing around with them, discussing fan theories and fanfiction and working through my personal life with them by my side. now, i consider them my friends. and i’ve picked myself back up again. i've figured myself out, for the most part, and i've got new friends and i’m staying in touch with old ones, and school is still awful now and again, but i have people who have my back. they saved me, and i don’t know if they know it, but they did. this fandom saved me. i love them so much.

now, the lumberjanes show is coming out, and i'm so incredibly excited. the comics are niche. they don’t reach as many people. i know so many kids who are intimidated by comics, but don’t really know where to start, or who want to read them, but are scared their parents could find them. i understand that struggle. hiding a book is hard. you have to look for a space that you know no one can get to, under a bed or in a closet or in plain sight, with the cover of another book slipped over it. and so often, the risk isn’t worth it.

but hiding a bootlegged file of a tv show? that can be so much easier.

i'm so excited to hear that noelle stevenson and possibly even other lumberjanes creators are going to be working on this show. i think that it will change lives, like the comics changed my lives. lumberjanes is a story about girls loving adventure, loving mysteries, loving each other. it’s beautiful and positive and uplifting, and in my case, lifesaving. i urge you all to please check out the comics. you won’t regret it. and please, support the show.

i, for one, cannot wait to see it.

EDIT: you can 100% reblog this if you want to, whether you’ve read the comics or not!

#my post #long post #lumberjanes #lumberjanes fandom #lumberjanes tv show

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houroftheantichristwolf · 3 years

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Lesbian Politicization

This was published 1990 in a book called Dykes-Loving-Dykes: Dyke Separatist Politics for Lesbians Only and illustrates exactly the long-standing issue with women appropriating lesbianism, using their political beliefs to try to define female homosexual existence in relation to opposing men. The agenda, of course, is to say fuck males and to fight the ever elusive and ever changing culture of patriarchy.

That’s 100% relevant and helpful for actual homosexual females....not.

I’ll make this short though, this is just to show how feminists been appropriating lesbians and applying their values to lesbian existence.

In the 1980’s, a decade of reactionary politics, femininity became an accepted value among many Lesbians. Even many politically radical Lesbians, who I would most expect to support Lesbian self-love and self-respect, who usually call male bullshit for what it is, began to openly admire feminine ways of dressing and acting. Femininity! A patriarchal hype if there ever was one.

Lesbians who didn’t look the way you personally think is more useful for your cause probably didn’t care to make a political statement out of their existence. The point of lesbians seeking lesbian communities is to find other lesbians - with the exception of those who WANTED to seek out political radical lesbian communities. That is not an inherent aspect of our existence, and to be honest, it’s not even a large part of it as women appropriating lesbians usually populated those communities. Here is a recap of the origins of radical “lesbian” separatism: *** [ In the late 70s a group of lesbians in Leeds, known as revolutionary feminists (RFs), made a controversial move that resonated loudly for me and many other women. They began calling for all feminists to embrace lesbianism. Appealing to their heterosexual sisters to get rid of men “from your beds and your heads”, they started a debate, which reached its height in 1981 with the publication of an infamous booklet, Love Your Enemy? The Debate Between Heterosexual Feminism and Political Lesbianism (LYE). In this, the RFs wrote that, “all feminists can and should be lesbians. Our definition of a political lesbian is a woman-identified woman who does not fuck men. It does not mean compulsory sexual activity with women. It’s no surprise that the booklet was so controversial. “We think serious feminists have no choice but to abandon heterosexuality,” it reads. “Only in the system of oppression that is male supremacy does the oppressor actually invade and colonise the interior of the body of the oppressed.” https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2009/jan/30/women-gayrights “Political lesbianism originated in the late 1960s among second wave radical feminists as a way to fight sexism and compulsory heterosexuality. Sheila Jeffreys helped to develop the concept when she co-wrote “Love Your Enemy? The Debate Between Heterosexual Feminism and Political Lesbianism”[3] with the Leeds Revolutionary Feminist Group. They argued that women should abandon support of heterosexuality and stop sleeping with men, while encouraging women to rid men “from your beds and your heads.”[4] Heterosexual behavior is seen as the basic unit of the patriarchy’s political structure, lesbians who reject heterosexual behavior therefore disrupt the established political system.[5]Ti-Grace Atkinson, a radical feminist who helped to found the group The Feminists, is attributed with the phrase that embodies the movement: ‘Feminism is the theory; lesbianism is the practice.’[6]” ] ***

Lesbians’ acceptance of anything “feminine” is part of the weakening of Lesbian politics—a Lesbian parallel to the right-wing trend of het politics.

LOL good. Being a lesbian does not mean representing anything political. Also what the fuck? This is where queer activists got their penchant for calling lesbians Nazis lol. Where’s that meme that’s like, anyone I don’t like is a Nazi? lol great homophobia, Queen/dumbass.

Those Lesbians who act out the feminine model and claim it’s a contribution to Lesbian culture, a flowering forth of their “real selves,” are of course Fems

So feminine lesbians’ real selves aren’t acceptable within your framework because they trigger your contempt of gender presentation that you yourself do not have to take part of? But your “real self” - a non-lesbian pretending to be a lesbian - is commendable because you want other lesbians to act and look exactly how you do which supposedly is off-putting to patriarchy AKA you use our sexual orientation to say fuck you to men? I think not.

The het media is full of stories about the het feminist who “realizes that she doesn’t have to give up being a woman to be a success in life,” who “regrets having tried to be like a man,” and is now “rediscovering the excitement of feminine seductiveness, the fun of dressing up in high heels, make-up and skirts, and her deep need for the joys of motherhood.”

“Realizes she doesn’t have to give up being a woman to be a success in life”; “and her deep need for the joys of motherhood.” So you understand femininity = heterosexuality. This is the 80s/90s, I wonder what her opinion is now that ‘femininity’ has changed: heterosexual women wear gym clothes, lift weights, have short hair, wear no make up or minimal make up etc., and men love it. And yet I see feminists also say that heterosexual women who are like this are still trying to please men and so are still feminine even though what they’re doing and how they’re looking is not “feminine” according to the original perception. So what’s the truth about ‘femininity?’ It’s equating it to anything that heterosexual men find appealing, which changes constantly. You really want lesbians to spend time to think about how to be as unappealing to males as possible when they’re not even relevant and so don’t dominate our every thought and action (unlike you maybe because you’re not homosexual and so have to try harder?)? Please, get real.

She’s a threat to the Big Lie of “feminine woman,” and so men and their women collaborators make up all kinds of ridiculous, hateful fictions to explain away her existence. The pressure is meant to humiliate and bully her into accepting femininity, and it must put her through soul-shaking self-doubt, even if she knows other Butches.

While I do know this happens, the reason behind that is homophobia 100%, being “masculine” appearing is a red marker of homosexuality. The threat is the big lie of heterosexuality. “Feminine” lesbians were assaulted when with their partners or if found out that they are indeed homosexual, they were just less of an obvious target than “masculine” women. It’s not Oppression Olympics, this should be used to understand hate crimes against homosexual women.

Meanwhile, girls who accept femininity—the vast majority, unfortunately—are accepted as “real girls” and encouraged to take pride in their feminine ways. There are degrees of femininity, of course. Some Fem girls accept the complete emaciated drag queen sex-object ideal while others take on just enough feminine identity to still be accepted as real girls.

“Real girls.” I was definitely acknowledged as a “real girl” when I was still more “unfeminine” in my appearance and not out than I am right now being out. What degree of ‘femininity’ am I considered to exhibit now according to feminist praxis, who knows. Either way, my relatives disagree that any amount of femininity would make me a ‘normal’ female. My mother was sad toward the end of her life because she felt conflicted that I wasn’t a ‘real’ female. You know what would’ve changed her perception? Being with a man and having kids.

It means spending time, energy and money on nail polish, perfume, hair-do’s, dresses, diets, body-shaping exercises, poses and games; fantasizing yourself as the center of sexual attention, making everything into a sexual game, getting yourself further and further away from female reality, from real female Lesbian power. It means identifying more and more with het values and choosing to see yourself through men’s eyes.

I thought femininity was clothes, makeup and seeking to attract men. Then it’s wanting a family and diet and exercise, which aren’t exclusive to heterosexual men and women. But because heterosexual males find that appealing in their lives it’s considered feminine? So, again, “femininity” is anything heterosexual males find appealing in females. Got it. And that answers my question about what her thoughts probably are on contemporary “femininity.”

Most importantly, choosing to be an obvious Lesbian is about living with integrity. A Butch’s choice to resist femininity is the choice of a female who’s being true to herself, choosing to be as alive to her female self as possible, regardless of the punishments inflicted on her as a result. I find in that resistance a key to Dyke power, Dyke beauty and Dyke love.

A lesbian being an actual lesbian - not pretending to be one or basing her existence on her capability to spite heterosexual males and females - and living her damn life is living in integrity period. Associating a lesbian’s life with political intent and political values has no integrity, is manipulative and is suspect as hell.

#Catch me NOT getting pigeonholed into any fakebian separatist activism #I'll keep doing me...you do you...but when you try that political B.S. I will say something #Do not project onto us and use political ethics to do it stop using lesbians as your coping mechanisms

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thoughtfulfangirling · 3 years

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January 2021 Books

I tend not to come to dislike or hating things very easily. Generally, the things I try, I can find a lot I like in them and go with the flow. I feel like it doesn’t make me very good about recommending things because I’m not too picky once I get invested in things, but here are my takes on the books I’ve read this month. (I can be super picky about what I pick up in the first place, but once I overcome that and get a foothold in something, the above applies.)

Anyway, belatedly, here’s last months reads and blurbs on my thoughts under the cut (long)

1. A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas

I somehow didn’t realize this was YA. It has the plot simplicity I’m used to seeing in YA but it definitely got darker and more sexual than I would have expected for the genre. I actually rather appreciate this series for that reason. It did some things alternatively I didn't expect and was quite delighted by it. Fantasy, romance (f/m), fairies, light political intrigue (setup for book 2), etc.. I have since read book 2 and would have caveats about this depending on who was interested.

2. This is How you Lose a Time War by Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone

This was amazing! A quick read of poetic language and dark love across sci fi warring factions. Primarily told through a series of letters exchanged back and forth between protagonists and focused on the characters.

3. Sparrow Hill Road by Seanan McGuire

What a great ghost story! it's told a lot like a series of short stories that come together into a winding narrative of a ghost's journey through the roads of America. Heavily American mythology vibes. Fascinating world building, intriguing characters, and beautiful message and arc. I'm thinking I might pick up more from this series in October. I got pointed in this book's direction due to how the way the book is structure feeling like a great depiction of trauma and how things get segmented and out of order and intangible, and it was just a really neat book. Would definitely recommend.

4. No Visible Bruises: What We Don’t Know About Domestic Violence Can Kill Us by Rachel Louise Snyder

I’ve now read a fair amount on the topic of domestic abuse, but they have largely focused on the individuals involved, and while this book does pick particular individuals as an example of extreme DV, this book zoomed out and looked at this problem from a broader perspective, talking about stats and looking at environmental and systemic factors. It’s a dark book that gets heavy and dissects sensitive situations but didn’t feel like it failed to humanize the issue, sometimes more so than a reader may expect. I definitely found it an insightful and interesting read. It’s the first book in quite a long time that was a physical book I held in my hands. I expected I might struggle too much between it not being audio and being nonfiction, but I moved through it quite quickly.

5. Her Royal Highness by Rachel Hawkins

This was a re-read. It’s a cute little wlw class romance. I think I read it in 2018, and it was fun to revisit. It’s a quick read with some enjoyable characters, and for those who do audiobooks, some cute accents.

6. The Magician’s Assistant by Ann Patchett

This was a beautiful story about grief and the way our connections open us up to new possibilities and changes in our lives if only we’ll reach out grasp them. It’s a slow paced story, functioning mostly in the internal monologue of our protagonist dealing with the loss of the man she’s loved and the things she comes to find out she didn’t know about him.

7. Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

This was another reread, doing a chapter an evening with Empty. It helped so much to listen to this a second time between being able to see the pieces put down and not listening to it at such stressful times and in such a fragmented way. I love how it is somehow a puzzle, a haunting, and a journey of growth in an old relationship that seemed doomed to fail in so many ways. Plus I love big, sarcastic, sentimental butch disaster Gideon so goddamn much. XD

8. Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova

This was very enjoyable, but I can definitely tell that I’ve outgrown a lot of YA. It’s not that there’s anything wrong these stories-I would have loved to have grown up with this book-it’s just that it lacked a complexity I’m getting used to and that I look for in these stories. I’m so glad though to be seeing more writers of color writing experiences and characters more like them getting attention in the literary world, and I will continue to find reading these stories worth it to get glimpses into that, but I wish I saw more of this sort of hype for these writers around more adult books. It’s out there I’m sure; I just have to find it yet. Working on it! But for a YA reader I think this is a great story. I like the worldbuilding so much and the costs of the magic and the journey. I might still have to check out book two when I need an easier read.

9. Well, That Escalated Quickly: Memoirs and Mistakes of an Accidental Activist by Franchesca Ramsey

I’ve been holding onto a hard copy borrowed from a friend of this for well over a year now. I got this book around the same time I got my hands on So you Want to Talk About Race and thought they were going to have very similar contents. I was incorrect. Well, That Escalated Quickly is much more about what it means to have a popular online presence. It was a really great read in a time when being online is, right now, for many of us, the only consistent way we can interact with others. I really appreciated her sharing her stories of her mess ups both as someone who needed to be called out and as someone who, for a time, was considered a ‘call out queen’ and her thoughts on community responsibility and bearing responsibility on both ends of those spectrums: it’s not just a person who messes up who bears a responsibility to act with community goals in mind to reduce harm, but also the responsibility of those who call out and when and how those might look for most effectiveness for change, personal wellbeing, and community responsibility. (The term community responsibility I’m using probably comes more from Conflict is not Abuse than this book, but I could very well see this book being a great primer for Conflict is not Abuse and might rec this to someone not yet ready for the later.)

10. A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J Maas

This book was a roller coaster. I started off really excited about some ideas and themes it was exploring that I don’t really see done hardly ever and was really intrigued. About a third of the way through, it did something that I felt very much undermined one of the themes I was enjoying a lot, and up until the very end, I was very close to deciding against reading book three. At pretty much that last minute though, it intrigued me enough to want to see how a thing would be played out and a resolution would be found. I don’t even know if I’d say I super liked the book and thus series by the time I was done reading this one, but I was intrigued. Sometimes I get the feeling the author doesn’t trust her audience and spells certain things out way too much, sometimes to the detriment of the plot, and I’m really not a fan of the ‘so totally outclassed, all odds staked against the heroes’ thing that’s pulled in this book that comes out of nowhere and when this time we actually have powerful characters but here we are. I don’t think I’d actually recommend the series to others unless I knew their tastes aligned well, but I think I will be finishing it.

#tf reads #a court of thorns and roses #this is how you lose the time war #sparrow hill road #no visible bruises: what we don't know about domestic violence can kill us #her royal highness #the magician's assistant #Gideon the ninth #labryinth lost #well that escalated quickly: memoirs and mistakes of an accidental activist #a court of mist and fury #books #long post #under the cut #thinky thoughts #tf rambles #2021 Reads

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