Kara wakes up smiling, the gentle sunlight that breaks through the curtains like a new caress on her face. It’s a moment of stillness before Cat’s ringtone shatters the peace.
“Hnf?” Is how Cat answers, peeling herself away from Kara’s naked body. They never sleep over here, but last night’s date had devolved into wine and candles on the roof of Kara’s building, due to half of the city being rendered temporarily shutdown and without power. They’d made the most of it anyway, and as Kara realized she couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of Cat’s call, so too she realized that her powers were blown.
Well. Cat had been quite enthusiastic, and there are definitely scorch marks on the ceiling again, which suggests they maybe went a little too hard again. It’s just so hard not to. Honestly, after the week she’s had fighting crime, Kara is a little relieved to have even a few hours of peace. It’s hard to explain what it’s like living with the ability to hear everything that goes wrong, in real time.
Cat can hear the joyous whooping where Kara has left the skylight open. There’s water pooling on the floor, so she throws a towel and pulls the glass shut. By the time she strips off her coat and kicks off her heels, Kara’s revelry has descended to the balcony outside the bedroom; apparently she took the closing window as the intended hint.
“Sorry,” Kara yells through the lashing rain as Cat slides the door open, drink in hand. “But it never rained on Krypton. Not like this.”
“It doesn’t rain like this in California,” Cat remarks, sipping at her Scotch. “We should probably do something about this global warming.”
I think we’re kind of starting to get away from this but have y’all noticed how in the vast majority of popular media, sex scenes don’t actually tend to involve a lot of talking/fumbling/awkwardness unless it’s for humor or to indicate that the people having sex are a.) probably Wrong for each other somehow or b.) inexperienced, possibly having sex for the first time?
but “good” sex, between people who are experienced and In Love etc, is almost always effortlessly athletic and steamy and they somehow telepathically know exactly what to do. I’m not talking about knowing what their lover enjoys, that’s entirely feasible, but they never even have to coordinate what they’re doing. there’s no “do you want me on top?” or “do you want to do [x]?” or accidentally getting in each other’s way.
the overwhelming message that I’ve always gotten from pop culture is that Good Sex happens without communication and, more dangerously, that needing to communicate is a sign that you’re somehow bad at sex, when in reality that’s almost definitely a sign that you’re, you know, a considerate partner who actually gives a shit about people being comfortable when they have sex with you.
why doesn’t this have more notes
because I posted it less than 12 hours ago; give it time, friend
(there’s a reason why most of the sex scenes I write involve someone slipping up and everyone laughing over it and having a good time anyway. Sex is the single most ridiculous thing a human body can do. It’s absurd. Of course it’s worth laughter if done right.)
This doodle doesn’t really fit in with anything else I’ve been drawing so have a lil something for supercorp week day 4 🐢 (I also fee like I’ve already done all the other prompts)
George Barbier, Illustrations for Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Pierre Choderlos De Laclos, 1934.
During his life, George Barbier was one of France’s most acclaimed illustrators and designers, a forefather of the art deco movement. But after his death in 1932 he quickly sank into obscurity. It’s only in the modern era that his work has been reappraised.
George Barbier, Illustration for Les Chansons de Bilitis by
Pierre Louÿs, 1929.
Barbier is notable for his bold depictions of female sexuality, and an aesthetic in his design work that a modern critic called ‘a kind of lipstick lesbian chic’. Many of his illustrations have a sapphic subtext, featuring women together in intimate poses, or women embracing people of ambiguous gender. Some show women dancing or being affectionate with figures that appear to be male but on closer inspection are clearly women in drag.
George Barbier, Le Feu (The Fire), 1925.This illustration shows a woman reclining in the arms of a person of indeterminate gender.
In his illustrations for Les Liaisons Dangereuses and Les Chansons de Bilitis, this
subtext became outright text, with women naked together, kissing or making love. For the time, these illustrations were extremely daring and
verged on the pornographic (even if they seem quite tame by today’s
standards).
George Barbier, Illustration for Les Chansons de Bilitis by
Pierre Louÿs, 1929.
Little is known about Barbier’s personal life in his hometown of Nantes, but we do know that in Paris he moved almost exclusively in homosexual circles. He was an intimate friend of the dandy and poet Robert de Montesquiou, and mixed with gay intellectuals like Marcel Proust.
George Barbier, Les dames seules (the single ladies), 1910. This early work is particularly striking for its apparent depiction of a butch/femme subculture among gay women in Paris.
His sexuality gave him access to the underground gay scene in Paris, and his knowledge of it filters through into his work. Although many of his illustrations are fictional, fantastical, or historical, here and there we see glimpses of the hidden lives of queer women in
fin-de-siecle Paris.
It also makes his work particularly notable, IMO, because unlike many of his straight male contemporaries, he did not depict sex and romance between women for the titillation of the straight male gaze. His women are complex, resisting bland stereotypes or didactic stories of innocence and fallen virtue. They are beautiful, sensual, dangerous and daring. Even idealised, they seem like real people. They have a self-possession that resists objectification. Their sexuality belongs to them, not to the viewer.
Question of Smoke 