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miss-m-winks · 2 years ago

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Love is an Art, part 6

masterpost, part 5

Last time, it was more sculpting class, now there's a painting class. Oh boy, how many college classes will I be able to come up with and write scenes for before I get bored of them? lol

The painting studio was always a little chilly. Kouto set up their easel, bringing their half-finished painting out of their cabinet as the studio became busy with the other students arriving. Professor Kali Vos, a drow, nodded at the students on their way in.

“Morning. I expect you all to stay focused today. I’ll be making my rounds to check your work.” They shuffled a few papers on their desk and hummed quietly to themself. The students set their easels up close to their friends in the class, chatting softly as they worked.

“Hi Kouto.” A red haired gnomish student named Leura set up her easel nearby. “Wow, you did a lot more during open studio hours, huh?” She leaned over to look at their work. Kouto grinned, proudly lifting their chin.

“Oh, it’s only half done,” they said, “but it does look pretty good so far.” Leura nodded. Her own painting was in a similar state of completion.

The assignment was to paint something from mythology, researching the myth as thoroughly as possible for research. Leura’s painting was all shades of brown and grey, muted earthy tones depicting the solemn scene of a legendary gnomish hero at her lowest point. The dark cavern scene would be illuminated with glowing moss and mushrooms, small patches of light leading the hero out. Kouto was impressed with Leura’s ability to use such a limited color palette, bringing out the details by keeping the colors blocked instead of letting them blend.

Kouto’s painting used a much larger color palette, vibrant and varied. They were creating a scene from a story they’d heard as a child, which they’d been very happy to find references for in the campus library. It was a trickster story, about a fox that could change its shape and stole a portion of the gods powers by diving deep into their secret well, taking the shape of a fish. The painting depicted this journey into the well, the fox half transfigured into a fish. Vibrant reds and oranges swirled in the deep blues and greens. Kouto was still working on the sunlight in the top of the scene and the magical glow in the bottom. They planned to add pink cherry blossom petals in the water, just for fun.

“Have you seen Prillen’s piece?” Leura nodded towards a blond hauforc student a little ways away. Kouto leaned over to see their canvas, squinted, and hurriedly pulled their glasses out of their bag. “Ah, yeah, they sure have a cool style.” Kouto’s eyes were finally able to focus on the distant painting, all shades of blue and purple with delicate curling textures. They weren’t sure what it was meant to depict yet, but it reminded them of clouds and ocean waves.

“This is honestly the most fun class I’ve taken here,” Leura continued, “I like painting things I can’t see. Still life and figure painting got a little boring for me.” Kouto nodded in agreement, smiling at the variety of styles and color choices on every canvas.

“I still enjoy figure painting more,” they admitted. Leura laughed.

“Well, of course you do. Oh,” she paused and turned to face them more directly. “That reminds me. Unrelated, but, there’s a party tomorrow night.” Her eyes gleamed. “Miriel’s hosting.” Kouto hummed in interest.

“How bad is the substance use going to get? You know I can’t stick around long if people start smoking indoors.”

“It’s probably just going to be drinks.” Leura waved a dismissive hand. “You always leave early anyway.” She winked and gave Kouto a sly smile.

“I suppose I might join in,” Kouto said with a false tone of reluctance. They turned their focus back to their painting. “Miriel does know a lot of fun people. Might be nice to meet a few new friends.” As the class went on, Kouto and Luera worked mostly in silence, commenting on each other’s paintings, stepping back to stretch and take a fresh look at their own progress, and occasionally having to lean aside as the professor walked by and commented on their techniques and color choices.

After and hour and a half of painting, glancing at each other’s work, taking personal comments from the teacher, and trying not to let their hands get too dirty, everyone sighed in relief when class ended. Kouto waited their turn for the sinks, leaving their painting drying on the easel as they went to clean their brushes. The paints were all water based, and could be renewed even if they dried on the palette, which made clean up easier than it would be for some other paints.

Kouto gently passed by someone else who was leaving the sinks, reaching out to turn the cold water back on, running the paintbrushes under the flow and softly spreading their hairs apart to release the excess pigment. Their hands ached, fingers tense from holding a brush for over an hour. They washed their brushes quickly, tapping them against their palm to shake out the water. Someone else stepped forward as they stepped back, taking over the sink before they had a chance to turn the water off.

Packing their brushes carefully away and closing their palette with a lid, Kouto moved their painting to the storage rack, their tools to their bag, and themself out the door. —

Talib hurried out of the pottery studio, only acknowledging his peers with a short nod of recognition as he walked to the central building on campus. He frowned as his left ankle throbbed, already sore. The soft fabric cover inside his prosthetic foot had grown thin with all the walking he had to do around campus, no longer cushioning the stump of his leg the way it was supposed to. He ignored it and walked on, hoping his limp would go unnoticed.

The central building was always busy, full of students coming to eat, socialize, or talk to staff about their schedules and other important things. Talib kept to the outskirts of the crowds with the walls on his left side, head down and hands in pockets. No one paid him any mind, all chatting with friends or hurrying to their own important appointments and classes.

Passing through the door of the cafeteria, Talib raised his head and looked around, spotting Melachi when she stood and waved at him from the middle of the room. He walked over and sat at her table, stretching his left foot out with a sigh as he set his bag down and collapsed into the chair beside her. Across from him, two gnomish students were talking over their lunches, but they looked over him curiously, making him tense and turn his face so they couldn’t stare at his left eye.

“Talib, how’s your day been?” Melachi scooted a plate over to him with a warm smile. “I know you like the glazed salmon.” Talib sat up and grabbed the plate, mouth watering as the tart smell of blackberries and fish wafted to his nose. He ate a few bites before he answered her, eyeing the gnomes warily as they murmured to each other with mischevious smiles. Their faces were similar, both tan with long black hair and square jaws, snouts scrunching and wiggling in their amusement at their hushed conversation. The one on the left had their hair tied into a soft braid, while the other’s hair was cropped short on the right side.

“I’m doing alright, thanks Mel.” He swallowed another bite of salmon, turning his attention away from the chatting pair and back to his friend. “Figure sculpting is going pretty well so far, actually.” Melachi nodded, resting her hand on her chin. Her own plate was half empty, with the remnants of a steak and salad scattered over it.

“You did a private session yesterday, right? With the model?” Talib nodded, mouth full again as he had taken too large a bite. Melachi laughed apologetically.

“Sorry, I’ll wait. Uh, actually, let me introduce my other friends,” she said, turning to gesture at the gnomes. “Eliwe and Tari. Twins. I’m in an architecture class with them.” The twins sat up straight and glanced over silently, smiling and waving. Talib returned the gesture. Eliwe was the twin with the braid, Tari the one with half cropped hair.

“We were just telling Melachi about a party this weekend,” Eliwe said with a gleam in her eye. “Just for fun, you know. Gotta have a party every couple weeks or we’d die of boredom.” Tari giggled at her sister’s comment.

“It’s not going to be a huge party,” she clarified, “but a lot of popular folks are spreading the word.” Talib nodded. “I’m not into parties,” he said, “but I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“Ah, I just hope I can meet new people,” Melachi spoke up, fiddling with the end of her beard. “Party friends don’t always last, but it’s still fun to hang out and talk. Maybe that art model of yours will be there, huh? I know I’ve seen them at a party before.” The twins laughed, whispering something to each other behind their hands. Talib ignored them, keeping his attention on Melachi.

“Kouto? Maybe they will be. They didn’t say. I mean, I didn’t ask, but you know,” he shrugged weakly. “They’re a nice person,” he continued, “I’ve actually seen them outside class a few times, talked with them a bit.” He glanced down, smiling. “Didn’t expect to find a friend that way.” Melachi tilted her head and leaned closer to him.

“Really? I only met them once, very briefly. How’d they manage to crack your shell so fast?” She teased, smirking at Talib’s flustered blush.

“Oh, I wonder,” Tari remarked with rolling eyes. “Kouto, stringing someone along? What a mystery.” She and Eliwe laughed again, leaning back in their chairs. “And in a figure art class no less. Careful, Talib.” Melachi shot them a confused glare.

“They didn’t like the awkward silence, modeling for just one person,” Talib explained, bristling at Tari’s comment but refusing to acknowledge her. “So they just talked. And I wasn’t going to respond, because I was working on my sculpture, but I kinda talked back a little. We have a few things in common.” He shifted in his seat, finishing off the last bites of his salmon. Melachi nodded.

“I’m glad you’re making more friends, Talib,” she told him, “I know it’s been hard, so far from your home.” She patted him on the shoulder, offering a warm smile. “If you change your mind about parties, let me know. I’ll gladly bring you along and help you meet people.”

“Thanks, Mel, but I think I’ll just stick to my usual quiet evenings.” He pushed his empty plate aside and picked up his bag. “We’re still going to the workshop, right? I’m hoping we can get more of the metal frame done today, I really want to start on the glass part.” Melachi laughed.

“Yeah, let’s go while we still have time.” She stood up and turned to the twins. “I’ll see you two at the party, alright?” They replied with eager nods.

“Can’t wait,” Eliwe said, “Ruven’s coming too, you know him? He’s in the archery club. You’ll like him, I know it.” Melachi shook her head.

“Every time you two try to introduce me to a guy, it’s just because you’re trying to hook me up. I told you, if I want a hookup, I'll find one myself. Leave it alone.” She rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. “Come on Talib, let’s go.” She took him by the arm and pulled him out of the cafeteria, leaving the giggling twins far behind. —

“I want to know more,” Melachi said as she and Talib walked to the workshop. “About Kouto. I’ve heard gossip left and right, not all of it nice.” She frowned, glancing back at the central building. “Tari got turned down by them once and she’s still pretty annoyed about it, if you couldn’t tell.” Talib frowned, scrunching his nose in disgust. “So they’re not even her ex? She’s just annoyed that she got rejected?” Melachi nodded.

“I didn’t think she’d still be so bothered about it. Hope that doesn’t create any drama at the party.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Talib opened the workshop door and let Melachi in ahead of him. “I’m not sure I want to know all the gossip you’ve heard about Kouto. They’ve been very nice to me so far. Like you said, they’ve cracked my shell. I don’t know if that’s just their charisma or if I’m getting better at being open with people.” He smiled sheepishly, dropping his bag on the shelf near the door and following Melachi to collect their metal bars from the stone closet. “I didn’t like that comment about their modeling work. Made it sound like they’re only doing it to seduce people. That’s so disrespectful. I wanted to tell her off, but they both made me so uncomfortable.” He cast a worried look at Melachi. “Are all your friends like that?”

“Well. Maybe friends was a poor choice of words.” Melachi grimaced, lifting a few metal bars out on her own. “We're not that close. They’re alright during class, but they're still in that early adult rebellion phase, know what I mean?” Talib carried the rest of the metal bars behind her to a work space.

“Do you suppose Kouto will be there? Hope they don’t have to deal with more rude comments from those two.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll be at the party. Just from what I’ve heard about them,” Melachi explained, “they get around, you know, lots of dates, lots of parties, lots of hookups. Real popular sort. So I expect they’ll show up. And they’ll probably either avoid Tari and Eliwe, or try to be polite and keep things civil. If it gets messy, I’ll leave.”

“Kouto is studying goblin art history,” Talib remarked, turning the conversation aside, “and they’ve got a big family.” He flexed his hands after setting down the metal bars, sitting back on a stool while Melachi opened the forge. “Didn’t say an exact number, but they’ve got, um,” he looked up at the ceiling and chewed his lip for a moment. “One older sibling. At least three younger siblings. All adopted but the youngest.” He dropped his gaze back to Melachi at the forge. “And the youngest likes bugs and spiders.”

“That’s cute,” Melachi laughed. “I think I’d heard about the big family before. Oh, what’s their last name?” She lifted a heated bar with the heavy tongs and brought it over to the anvil. “Loryck! That’s right. Yeah, I don’t live in the same town as them, but they’re a pretty well known family around here.” She pounded the metal into shape with her hammer, turning it one way and another, bending it over the side of the anvil. Talib’s eyes went wide and his ear perked up.

“Loryck? Wait, Kouto is part of the Loryck family?” He stood up from his stool. “As in Ronan Loryck?” Melachi looked startled, pausing in her work.

“Yeah, Ronan’s the grandfather I think. He’s a metalsmith, like me.” “And one of the modern pioneers in advanced prosthetics!” Talib held up his hands, flaring his jointed wood and metal fingers. “These were made with techniques he helped invent.” He grinned. “I knew he lived in this country; that’s half the reason I picked this school. But I didn’t know his own grandkid was going to be one of my classmates. That’s amazing.”

“Your fingers are Ronan’s work? I didn’t know that.” Melachi set down her hammer and walked over to Talib, looking closer at his hands. “He’s more focused on machines and tools than art, but I’ve always admired his ideas and his style.”

“Well, he didn’t personally make my fingers. But he did help invent the methods to make them. I wouldn’t be able to use my hands very well with the older styles of prosthetics.” Talib glanced down at his left foot. It was an older style. Cheaper material, easier to put together, and far less functional. He hadn’t cared enough to get a better one. His hands were more important.

“Maybe you better keep up that friendship then, huh?” Melachi winked. “Maybe Kouto will introduce you to old Ronan.”

“I can’t take advantage of a friendship like that,” Talib protested, “that’s rude.” But he did like the idea, meeting up with the man who had been such a positive force in prosthetics engineering. Maybe asking Ronan to touch up his fingers. “I won’t ask about it,” he told Melachi with a stern look. “But. If Kouto brings it up first. I suppose I wouldn’t turn them down.”

“Good. Now, come on, hold this thing steady for me so I can turn it into a leaf before it gets too cold.” Melachi turned back to the anvil and gestured Talib over. He held the metal bars steady, one by one, as she hammered them into shape. Broad curved leaves and a curling stem. The hammer marks would be smoothed out later, the pieces heated up near to the point of melting so they could be attached to each other. Talib looked longingly towards the glass work side of the studio, thinking ahead to the colors he could use to make the blossoming flower come to life.

His thoughts wandered in the repetition of the work. Colored glass turned to colored cloth, the elegant clothing Kouto always seemed to wear. It suited the image of someone who liked parties. Their carefree mannerisms, happily social even while posing naked in an empty room. Talib couldn’t bring himself to be that confident, especially not while he was still so surrounded by unfamiliar people. He hadn’t been that confident around his childhood friends. If Kouto still felt any insecurity over their myriad scars, they hid it well. Talib looked over his own scars again as he turned another metal bar over for Melachi. He could learn a thing or two from Kouto, he thought.

#writeblr #winks writing #love is an art #romance writing #so much of this story is improvised #so if details get a bit redundant #or make no sense #i am very very sorry #all the side characters are just pulled out of thin air #the only characters that matter are talib kouto and melachi

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endusviolence · 8 months ago

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Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.