One of my favourite things when reading fanfiction is when you click with an author's style so much that you adore the fanfiction you're reading, and once it's over you need more. So you go to their page and hope that there's more for any fandom you might know- only there isn't any. They've written for other fandoms you aren't familiar with and never would've thought about before.
But you're down so bad for their style and talent that they got you wading in like:
Cinderella rewrite where Cinderella’s father is an unusually successful fisherman due to his secret friendships with the shy and mysterious mermaids, successful enough to attract a moderately wealthy and ambitious bride with two daughters. Once he dies, her stepmother, determined to make sure her daughters inherit the fishing business as dowries by marrying before Cinderella, forbids her from going out on the fishing boats or into town and makes sure she spends as much of her time as possible doing drudgework, hauling offal and cleaning fish. When the Prince’s ball comes around, an important occasion for young women to make good connections, the stepmother forbids her from going, telling her that she needs to get the latest salmon catch gutted and ready for sale instead.
Cinderella’s mermaid godmother calls upon her people to clean the fish and gifts her a dress and shoes of shimmering fish scales that wreathe her in rainbows under the moonlight. She makes an impression on the Prince at the ball so strong that he immediately falls in love with her, and when she’s forced to flee before her stepmother notices her (no masquerade mask or dancing rainbows will disguise her from her own family at close range), the Prince is left with only a delicate fish leather slipper left on the front steps to try to find her again.
He goes around the houses, seeking the owner of the slipper, but Cinderella is once again working in the fish sheds. He stepmother, desperate and determined and having found Cinderella’s other shoe that very morning, realises what has happened and takes a knife to the feet of her prettiest daughter, telling the prince that she suffered an injury that very morning but those are definitely her shoes, see, here’s the other one, and they still fit.
The daughter is pretty and witty and charming, and while the Prince doesn’t feel the same spark and instant sense of connection that he did at the party, he reasons that she’s overwhelmed and in pain and once she’s healed, all will be well. There are no birds to whisper of blood in the shoe – the Prince has seen the bandaged feet already – and the daughter slips on the shoes (the only shoes she has that will fit her, now,) and accompanies him to the palace.
But the stepmother is no doctor, and by the time the Prince gets her to the palace doctors, it’s too late – his beloved has contracted an infection in her feet from the shoe leather, made unclean in its travels. She will survive – it is an infection of a common filth of fish and birds, one that the doctors have potions for for the occasions where dangerously cooked food causes outbreaks – but in her raving, she confesses the whole scheme to the Prince who, furious, returns to the village to find the girl he truly fell in love with, the girl hidden from him.
“Oh, yeah, the fish cleaner,” the villagers shrug. “We don’t see her around very much, she’s probably in the sheds. Her family calls her Salmonella.”
Contains: suicidal ideation, attempted suicide
The infection brought on a high fever, and the damage was permanent. Her mother’s knife took her ability to walk without pain. The fever took her voice.
It hadn’t been her plan. She hadn’t wanted to do it. But her mother, with her sharp eyes and her sharp knife, had explained to her once again that behind her stepsister’s kindly smile was a ruthless heiress who wanted to take everything the family had and leave the rest of them destitute. “You have a duty to protect this family,” her mother explained. “Your father gave his life to protect us from invaders. I gave my heart and my future to protect us from poverty. Will you not do the same?”
You overestimate how much control I have over the writing process. Go here for more “absolute bangers” I guess.
when you say you love fucked up freak characters that had better extend to female characters too and not just the men you want to write horny self insert fanfiction about
before you say that female character is annoying or boring or badly written i need you to imagine a universe where the character was played by some nubile little lordling fresh out of british drama school. how do you feel about her now
I know I spent two days without posting any lesbian pride post lol but I swear I'm gonna post two posts per day for the following days to make up for it. I am again going to talk about an artist, but from a different period this time.
(I love her name by the way... Bohneur means happiness in french and that's such a pretty name to have)
Marie-Rosalie Bonheur, known as Rosa Bonheur, was born in 1822 in Bordeaux and died in 1899 in Thomery. She was a French painter and sculptor specialising in representations of animals.
She has kind of an interesting family story (mother adopted by a rich guy who found out later who was her real father, siblings all artists, father who met a lot of interesting people, links with many famous people...) but it would be too long to talk about it and I want to focus on Rosa herself. Do check it up if you're interested!
During her youth, Rosa Bonheur had a reputation for being a tomboy, a reputation that followed her throughout her life and which she made no attempt to deny, wearing her hair short and later smoking cigarettes and cigars. Her emancipated lifestyle never caused a scandal, even though she lived in an era that was very concerned with convention. Like all women of her time, Rosa Bonheur had to apply to the Prefecture of Paris for a cross-dressing permit, renewable every six months, in order to wear trousers, in particular to attend livestock fairs, travel or ride horses.
Here's one of her permits, from 1857 :
And though many historians tried to deny the fact that she was a lesbian, she always refused to marry a man, has only ever had relationships with women and literally wrote that she never felt any sort of love, attraction or tenderness for men, "besides a frank and good friendship for those who had all my esteem". After the death of the woman she loved, she also wrote "If I'd been a man, I'd have married her, and they wouldn't have made up all those silly stories..." You got it : even if she didn't shout it from the rooftops, Rosa was very probaby a homosexual woman.
Rosa Bohneur grew up in a fairly wealthy family, thanks to the financial support of her mother's adoptive father. But when her mother's father died, the family was left without any such support, and fell into dire poverty. When Rosa was 11, her mother died, which deeply traumatised her. She kept a lifelong admiration for her mother.
In 1836, at the age of 14, she met Nathalie Micas, who became her lover. Only Nathalie's death 53 years later separated them.
Her father remarried in 1842 to Marguerite Peyrol, with whom he had a last son, Germain, who would also become a painter. Rosa Bonheur did not get on well with her stepmother and when her father died in 1849, she left the family home to live with the Micas.
After her mother's death, Rosa Bonheur went to primary schools, was apprenticed as a dressmaker and then went to boarding school. Eventually her father took her into his workshop, where her artistic talents were revealed. He was her one and only teacher. Gradually, she developed a passion for animal art, which became her speciality.
She exhibited for the first time, at the age of 19, at the Salon of 1841. She won a 3rd class medal at the Salon of 1845, and a 1st class medal (gold) at the Salon of 1848. This award enabled her, at the age of 26, to obtain a commission from the State to produce an agrarian painting (paid 3,000 francs). The painting resulting from this state commission, "Labourage nivernais" was supposed to go to the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Lyon. But it was so successful at the 1849 Salon that the Beaux-Arts department decided to keep it in Paris, at the Musée du Luxembourg. After Rosa Bonheur's death, the work went to the Louvre, before being transferred to the Musée d'Orsay in 1986.
When her father died in March 1849, Rosa Bonheur replaced him as director of the École impériale gratuite de dessin pour demoiselles (or École gratuite de dessin pour jeunes filles). She remained in this position until 1860: ‘Follow my advice and I'll turn you into Leonardo da Vinci in skirts’, she often told her pupils.
In 1860, she moved to a huge house in By, where she had a huge workshop built, and ample space for her animals. One of her relatives wrote: “She had a complete menagerie in her house: a lion and a lioness, a deer, a wild sheep, a gazelle, horses, etc. One of her pets was a young lion she let run around. My mind was freer when this leonine animal died".
In June 1864, Rosa was visited by Empress Eugenie, who invited her to lunch at the Château de Fontainebleau with her husband. The following year, Eugenie returned to see her, to present her with the Legion d'honneur herself. Rosa is the ninth woman and the first artist to receive this distinction. About this, The Empress said :
“At last, you've been knighted. I am delighted to be the godmother of the first woman artist to receive this high distinction. I wanted the last act of my regency to be devoted to showing that, in my eyes, genius has no sex."
She was also the first woman to be made an officer in this order, in April 1894 (first female officer of the Legion d'honneur).
Rosa traveled extensively with her lover Nathalie, herself a painter and mechanical enthusiast (she invented and patented a railway braking system), and painted many pictures inspired by her travels.
In 1889, Nathalie died after some 50 years together. It was then that Rosa expressed her regret at not having been able to marry her.
After Nathalie's death, Rosa met Anna Klumpe, a talented American painter. The two women moved in together some time later.
Rosa Bohneur died of pulmonary congestion in 1899, without having completed her last painting, “La foulaison du blé en Camargue”, a monumental canvas she had planned to exhibit at the 1900 Universal Exhibition.
She is buried in Père Lachaise cemetery, alongside Nathalie, her parents and Anna (who died years after her). She left her entire fortune to Anna, who, in 1908, published a biography of Rosa Bonheur and created a Rosa-Bonheur prize at the Société des artistes français. The Société des Artistes français posthumously awarded her the Medal of Honor shortly after her death.
Rosa could have had military honors at her funeral, but she specified in her will that she did not wish this.
There's a lot of interesting things to say about Rosa, her art and her history, so I suggest you do some research on her! She was a very talented and strong-willed woman who had a huge impact on French art and left a considerable cultural legacy.
Here are some of her paintings :
I personally love them ! I am not a painting expert, I just find them sooo pretty.
See you tomorrow :)
Anastasia Trusova (Russian, born 1989)
“Cat in the Garden”
Jia Li (Chinese, b.1964), Summer Light, 2015, Watercolor on paper
Well would you look at that
A tale as old as time.
Saw this frame on a different reblog by @thatssroughbuddy but why does it look like Iroh is using his phone to take a photo of his nephew at a landmark
"Uncle, make sure you get that glowy light in the picture and send it to my dad to let him know I'm about to capture the Avatar!"
This was so cute I had to draw it
and of course Iroh is doing what-
!!!!!!
Iroh posts it on social media with some caption like "look at my beautiful nephew" and Zhao comments like "is that the Avatar in the background?"
And Iroh responds, "no, it's the northern lights."
This is insanely funny to me and now:
god forbid 5000 year old girls do anything
holy shit bronze age pro sheep bone gamer girl
oh fuck off
when i was in middle school Rude by bruno mars came on the radio in the car with my mom and at the chorus it goes “why you gotta be so rude, don’t you know i’m human too, i’m gonna marry ya anyway” and my mom now had her Disapproving Aura on and sighed and said. see this is why [my divorced uncle] married [his mean ex-wife]. what a sad way of loving. and 13yo me was like Oh Damn That Deep. and mentally filed away the lesson Popular Music Promotes Toxic Behavior Therefore Don’t Marry Someone Who’s Mean To You. and ever since then rude by bruno mars has made me just a little bit sad. cut to 5+ years later the song is no longer popular. i happen to hear it over the tinny speakers in a random fast food place. all at once i realize the lyrics are not, in fact, about marrying a girl despite her hating you (gonna marry ya anyway), but marrying a girl despite her parents hating you (gonna marry her anyway). 13yo me and my mom misheard the same lyric and never paid attention to the rest of the song. i am flabbergasted. one of the pillars of my childhood development has just crumbled in a Subway. i am frantically realigning my entire internal ethics system. the cashier still wants to know if i’m getting a cookie. nothing is real
my world is crumbling around me
little used fantasy trope i love: when two people are playing cards in a shady bar and it's the tense moment where they show their hand but it's a fantasy so they can't say things like "full house" or "royal flush" so they same some nonsense like "three crowns and a dead crow" and the crowd is like "oooOOHH" so we know that's good
Other character smirks: "Well, I've got a castle on four omens."
The crowd "oohs" louder, so we know that it's Much Better™️
thats how i feel watching scenes with regular cards
