the woman has a beard

Win Your Heart

So, today was a snow day and I was able to work on Fragile Design, including ironing out some tricky plot points (thanks to @optomisticgirl for her wonderful thoughts and encouragement).  Now, I’m sitting here and thinking as my husband makes dinner (yes, I’m a lucky girl) and I need to write something short and sweet and involving no major plot other than references to potential impending storylines to come.

(also I’ve spent the past week re-immersing myself in @msgenevieve447‘s writing and loving every minute of it…this is an ode to her as well because she’s one of the people in this fandom than inspired me to write and I owe her much for that)

This little drabble is based on one of my all time favorite Captain Swan conversations, a piece of which is below:

Originally posted by the-queen-of-hell-things

Ah, yes…under the cut, for smutty reasons (you know how I do)…

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Gender and the Goddesses

Aphrodite is used to people expecting her to play a part. Women look like this, like that, but Aphrodite is a woman and has a beard. She is a woman and has prominent muscles. She is a woman and her voice is deep. She is too fat or too skinny, a proud transwoman. 

Athena has no mother and is given freedom by their father. Some say they are too pretty to not be a woman, but they know beauty is in the mind. Some say they are too pretty to wield a sword, too. It does not require a gender. 

Hestia likes burning down old and burdensome ideas, especially about gender. Some say she is a modal woman, but she is a gender-fucking-being who refuses labels. She keeps the home, so what? We all have home inside us.

Persephone changes xer label so often xe wonders of people don’t take it seriously. Xer is still finding out who xer is, and growth is nothing and everything. Most of all, it takes time. 

Artemis is more than one thing, so full and focused. Their femininity and masculinity are held up together and she refuses to choose. He is many genders. Nothing is ever as straight as their arrow is. 

Hera is old and tired and young and spirited. She is used and uses and so many call her woman to insult her that she built womanhood to hold anyone who claims it. 

Hecate is fluid and ghostly. Some days she is woman, is man, is both, or neither. Every one is full of magic and intent. She is what she makes. 

actualmermaid replied to your link “My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy -…”

yeahhhh boyyyyyy also, I love that Azaghal is a she

Azaghâl knew, objectively, that the elf was a woman and not a girl but the bare face made that hard to keep in mind. Tall or not, she should be sweeping up the ash in her parents’ forge, not leading war parties of children just as young.

“I’m older than your great grandfather,” said the elf when, after a few drinks, Azaghâl put this to her. “Older than that, even, but you can only say ‘great’ so many times before it becomes tedious.”

“Older in years, maybe,” said Azaghâl, because it sounded very wise. “But what do years mean to you? Ten centuries, a hundred, and you won’t have aged. You’ll still be the same overgrown children.”

“Very philosophical.” There was the proper amount of respect in those words but she spoilt it all by adding, “I can see you staring at my chin.”

“It’s obscene. My daughter has more stubble than you and she’s not yet learnt to walk. How can anyone know your rank? Your clan?”

“You know because I introduced myself as Lord of the House of Fëanor,” said the elf, a little peevishly. She was not long irked, though. “How would a beard tell you those things? Do the braids have meanings? The beads?”

“Yes and yes. Each clan has their own braid, see?” She tugged at the interlocking ladder of plaits that fell from her chin down to her belt. “And beads are given when they’re earnt. By masters when an apprenticeship is completed, by commanders for a battle well fought, by lovers for- well.” Azaghâl was king for a reason and fair jangled when she walked, so heavy was her beard with metal, shining like veins of precious ore against her coal dark hair. “How can anyone respect you or trust you if they can’t see the record of your deeds?”

The elf laughed as though Azaghâl had said something very funny. “Does saving your life not suffice as an introduction?”

“It was a lovely battle, well planned and well fought. I’d weave one of these-”, she tapped the golden marker of a victory, “-into your hair if you had any. Did the Enemy take it along with your hand?”

“That’s a conversation I’m not drunk enough to have,” said the elf and changed the subject. “What of dwarves that can’t grow beards?”

Azaghâl debated between getting the elf drunker and keeping the mead for herself. Curiosity won out and she tossed the flask in a high arc that sent it sailing over their campfire. “I’ve never known it to be a problem - what great deeds can a babe in arms achieve?”

The elf snatched the bottle from the air one- handed, but did not drink. “And do your women have no great deeds to adorn themselves with?”

“Are you mocking me, girl?” Metal chimed angrily as Azaghâl stood. The light of the campfire dripped and ran across gemstones and worked gold so that it seemed that she was garbed in flame. “Just because those orcs caught me off guard, do you think I’m not your match? Take up your sword and I’ll show you what a dwarven woman can do.”

Despite the twitch, swiftly arrested, towards the knife at her belt, the elf made no attempt to rise. Her expression shifted into something conciliatory and her voice went soft. “My apologies, I intended no offence. No woman of my people has ever grown a beard. To the best of my knowledge, anyway - I have cousins that might do so out of spite now that I’ve said it. Certainly no elf, man or woman, has a beard so fine as yours.”

“That’s not much of a compliment,” Azaghâl said, barely mollified.

“Would you believe I’m the diplomat of the family?” The elf tossed the flask back to her, which did a good deal more to settle her mood.

“Easily,” she said, plopping back down onto a cushion. “But only because I’ve met your sister.”

“How do dwarves tell men from women?” the elf said abruptly. She leant forwards, tilting her head so that the dark stones set in her circlet caught the firelight. “It can’t be braids- Is it the jewels you wear?”

“A fair guess,” Azaghâl said, something itching at the back of her mind. “I don’t know how you Children do it - nothing but hurt to be had in making assumptions about these things.”

“That’s logical,” said the elf, her hand twitched again, not for the knife but a scroll sticking from the pack beside her. A quick kick to the fire dislodged a stick of charcoal and she took it up to write. “As long as all know the system. I assume it’s rubies for a girl?”

“Not just rubies. Any red sto- hmph.” Too used to being among civilised folk, she thought, glaring at the blood-dark gems upon the elf’s brow. “You might have said something sooner. Is it ‘boy’ then?”

“Hardly.” There was charcoal smudged across the elf’s cheek when he looked up at her, eyes narrowing in feigned ire. “I’m still older than your great grandmother.”

“And then they fuck, right?” said @imindhowwelayinjune , whose thirst could drink the oceans dry. 

“If they do, it won’t work as a prequel to My crown is called content,” I said. 

Yet I yielded at last to her will and will reblog this with some horrible dwarf/elf smut after the weekend’s LotR marathon. 

El Libro De La Vida [Prologue] - Poe Dameron x Reader (x Kylo Ren)

Request: The book of life au where poe is manolo and kylo is joaquin. Reader of course is maria and bb8 can be chuy. Someone please write this.

A/N: that wasn’t really a request but somebody on anon sent it to @fandom-writes asking for someone to write it so here it is lmao anyway if u haven’t seen The Book Of Life then I 100% recommend it go watch it now it’s on netflix. uhhh endgame relationship here is pretty obvious if u’ve seen the movie. Obvs various character roles and stuff have been altered for the Purpose™ of this fic. ALSO THIS WAS JUST GONNA BE A FUN LITTLE THING BUT AHAH??? WHOOPS???? IT GOT IN DEPTH™

Tags: @fandom-writes @the-new-fanfic-order @disapearing-act @badwolfandtimelords @xxassbuttsophiaxx @ladyaphmeow @memyselfandwifi

A More Important Note: Of course, Día De Los Muertos is a very important holiday, and if I have said anything at all in this story that could in anyway insult or offend anyone or the original story, please tell me so I can make necessary changes.

 “This is the Book of Life.”

 "All the world is made of stories, and all of those stories are right here.“

 "Long ago, in the center of Mexico, was the quaint little town of San Angel.”

 "And naturally, directly below it lay the Land of the Remembered, a festive and magic place for those who lived on in the memories of their loved ones!“

 "And below that lies the Land of the Forgotten. The sad and lonely destination for those poor souls who are no longer remembered.”

 "But, before I can properly begin this story, you must meet the magical rulers of these two realms.“

 "That is La Muerta. She is made out of sweet sugar candy. She loves all mankind, and believes their hearts are pure and true.”

 "And that is Xibalba. That charming rascal thinks mankind is not so pure, just like him. He’s made out of tar and everything icky in the whole world.“

 "And that is the Candlemaker. He keeps everything in balance. He is made out of wax and has a beard full of clouds.”

 "See all these wooden figures here? They represent real people in our story, just like you and me.“

 "And so our story begins, on the day that the people of Mexico call the Day of the Dead, and on this particular Day of the Dead, after centuries of being banished, Xibalba had had enough.”

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This is my guide on how to play a trans character (this includes nb people, considering the fact that most of us ID as trans) in roleplays. I’m sick of people making excuses as to why they refuse to play one so, I am making this guide to put a stop to it once and for all. Under the cut you will find the Do’s and Don’t’s of playing a trans character.

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anonymous asked:

I'm curious about the born woman post. Does she take hormones. Her facial hair is pretty thick, I've only every grown a few whiskers but she almost has a small beard. Just curious.

Nope.  Some females are just naturally hirsute.  There are a lot of women at the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival with beards or full mustaches.  Check out the 30 sec mark.

This includes femmes:

(It is hard to tell, but the woman driving that tractor has a good beard.  And she lives in the South.)  Sometimes these women shave during the year and only grow out their beards on the land, sometimes they sport them all year long.

But they (we) are all clear that those beards and moustaches are part of their female experience, even though they aren’t supposed to be.  We now live in a time where a woman who looks like that must be trans, right?  If you look like that you must be a man, or wanna be a man.   But they aren’t.  They don’t wanna be.  They are clear about who they are.  

It is why I laugh when people who are anti-Fest talk about how we are gender tyrants, or that we all look the same: which is privileged, “old” white women. They have no idea what happens there; they just blindly believe what they are told. Michigan is the most diverse expression of the female body you will ever see.  We show the full expanse of what it means to be female.  We were “genderqueer” before anyone knew what that was.  We aren’t allowed to even comprehend in our day to day lives that women live and look the way we do at Michigan.  It is what women would be if we were just allowed to be; without the male gaze.  If we were just allowed to be in our skin like how we popped out into the world. 

One of the beautiful things about my 20+ years at Festival was truly internalizing how seriously effed the standards of beauty females are supposed to adhere to are.   And it isn’t all about sex, but one of the things that has also been amazing about festival is that all these things that were supposed to make us feel like undesirable freaks meant nothing there.  Nothing.  We were all just another face of female.  Hairy, really tall, fat, old, whatever.  You suddenly realize how little we even see!  When was the last time you saw a sexy as hell grey-haired butch?  When was the last time you saw a gorgeous as hell femme with a beard?  Never?   Probably.  But there she is on the Land.  And those are two tiny samples.

You can’t go back once your small box of beauty and possibility gets smashed open.  When you realize that somewhere there are a lot of women living happily in their skin, as is.  It is why we fight so hard to keep this space.  It is why others fight so hard to destroy it.

If you have no shame about who you are, you cannot be controlled.

This is a photo I took from festival last year; try to read that small print in the bottom left hand corner.  If you can’t, the answer to the question is:

“Our society warps our mirrors.  Do not fret, my love, on our Land you see clearly.”

Get your tax return together.  Borrow from your parents.  Start a go fund me.  Do what you need to do, but come home to the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival this year.  You will be forever changed.

Like I see artists draw male characters and they look like Ben 10. We’re talking original series Ben 10

Then they draw the same character as a trans woman and SUDDENLY the character has A PATCHY BEARD and POORLY APPLIED MAKEUP and SHOULDERS THE WIDTH OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN

like……….. you can just draw Ben 10 looking like Ben 10 and be like yeah cool this is Ben 10 except she’s a trans girl now

Having a five minute long conversation about “yes she’s a woman, yes she has a beard, no I don’t know if she’s had surgery, no she doesn’t have to have had surgery to be a woman, no I don’t know what parts she has, yes I know she’s a she”
I hope Conchita wins just so people get fucking educated