So I'm signed up for this online 30's speed dating event for WLW and sapphics right?

Here's the thing: It looks like they aren't even bothering to regulate it at all because I see tons of people who aren't in their 30s and even some men are listed in the people who are signed up for the event.

What's even the point of a specific event for 30 something WLW if just anyone can join it? :/

1k event: interview with ellie williams

☁︎ HAPPY 1K LOVES!!! i got this idea from @collegecraze as she does 'interviews' with characters of her game on her patreon and i thought it'd be funny to do my own with our very own angry lesbian <3 she's canon-typical in this interview! ☁︎ tw: alcohol usage, some sexual discussion but nothing too explicit

ellie: hello...is this thing on?

you: please...ellie...we're live.

ellie: oh we are?? sorry..

you: it's no problem! anyways....intro track plays...welcome to frankie's podcast! where we interview YOUR favorite 2D video game characters! and i'm your host!

ellie: what do you mean by 2D vide-

you: tonight, we have our favorite angry, murdering lesbian, ellie williams!!

cue round of applause

ellie: yea, sup.

you: so, ellie, tell us a little bit about yourself.

ellie: uhh, i'm ellie. i'm 19. i'm a part of the small community in jackson— lover of weed and space.

you: so you don't live with dina and jj anymore?

ellie: nah- wait, how'd you know that?

you: not important. so...you're single?

ellie: yeah but, look, i'm not looking for anything serious.

you: okay, okay, how about something casual?

ellie: yeah, sure, whatever. why are you asking me these questions? you said you needed help finding your dog when you dragged me away.

you: ......look, i needed an excuse to get you to agree to my interview. anyways! ya heard it hear folks, ellie is looking for something casual. *wink*

ellie: ...okay...

you: okay, ellie! next topic. do you think you'd ever get over dina?

ellie: uh...well...— do i have to talk about this?

you: yes. think of this as a therapy session.

ellie: well, i'm not sure. we went through a lot together and..i thought we were gonna be together forever, you know? but she doesn't really understand why i had to leave.

you: i'm sorry. must've been tough, how are you holding up?

ellie: i'm pulling through. traveling by myself is weirdly..therapeutic.

you: right, and you're travelling to california to find...abby, correct?

ellie: *cringes* yeah.. her.

you: and how do you feel about abby anderson?

ellie: i mean, i didn't kill her. that says something, right? but i just— i just can't get over what she— what she— i'm sorry...excuse me.

you: okay, frankie, take us to commercial break please.

"i'm sorry, ellie. i think we started the show off with a sensitive topic," you say, rubbing her back soothingly.

"it's fine, it's fine. she's not something i wanna talk about right now, anyways. we can talk about other things," ellie murmurs. you take the initiative to wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her in for a hug. you feel her tense in your arms, before she relaxes and wraps her arms around your waist.

"ready to continue?" you ask, and she nods, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

"yeah."

you: welcome back to frankie's podcast! we're still here with our favorite sapphic!!

cue intro track

you: so, ellie, how would you feel answering some questions from our lovely viewers?

she shrugs.

ellie: i'm down.

you: perfect! our first question is....'what makes you truly happy? where is your happy place?

ellie: hmmm....i think i'd have to say the museum of science and history in wyoming. uh, i like thinking of the memories i had there, with joel.

ellie has a small smile upon her lips.

you: how sweet. i'm sure joel is up there, thinking of all the memories you guys had together.

ellie nods, but you couldn't help but notice the sad glimmer in her eyes.

you: okay! second question, let me read this one. oh! uh— are you a top or bottom?

ellie chokes on her water, the liquid dribbling down her chin.

ellie: huh? what??

you: it's what the people want to know.

ellie: uh— i prefer being on top.

you let out a nervous cough.

you: good to know.

you were about to ask the next question until you see the producer, frankie, walk over to you both with two shot glasses.

frankie: okay, cuties, here's a shot of tequila, specifically casamigos reposado. think you both should loosen up a little bit.

you: can i get a chaser?

frankie: yea, sure, how 'bout you, ellie?

ellie shakes her head.

ellie: nah, i'm good.

frankie: 'kay, tough guy.

frankie leaves and shortly comes back with a coke, handing it to you and retreating back to her post.

you pop open the can, holding it in one hand, with the shot glass in the other.

you: cheers?

ellie: cheers.

she clinks the glass against yours, then downing the shot in one gulp. you gulp yours in one swallow, chasing it with the soda right after.

you: whew, that was nice.

ellie: yea, sure takes the edge off.

you: okay, next question. what is your ideal partner?

ellie: hmm...let me think. maybe someone who's really funny and smart too— not like book smart, but just smart. someone who i can really get along with, like a best friend.

you: how sweet.

ellie: yeah, i am.

you: ..okay, moving on. ass or ti-

ellie: ass.

you: you sound confident about that answer.

ellie: 'cause i love ass.

ellie narrows her eyes at you, and you look away, clearing your throat.

you: next question. do you love lana del rey?

ellie: ....who's that?

you: according to google, she's this indie rock singer. we could listen to one of her songs from her new album?

ellie: yeah, lets do that.

frankie hits a track, and music begins to play throughout the studio.

the track stops as the song comes to an end.

you: so, what'd you think?

ellie: first of all, she's hot as fuck. second of all, i could get down to her songs, s'not usually what i listen to but 's a pretty song.

you: yup, the bad bitches listen to lana.

frankie: my good friend, kittie, loves lana, ellie! i should give her your number!!

ellie turned, not hearing what the producer was yelling.

ellie: huh?

you: MOVING ON. how do you feel about pillow princesses?

ellie: love 'em. they're cute as fuck.

you: they are indeed. how would you feel knowing about a 1/3 of your fanbase are pillow princesses?

ellie: seriously?

you nod.

ellie: ....shit.

ellie smirks and relaxes against the cushion of the chair, manspreading her legs, the chemicals of the alcohol she consumed before taking affect on her brain.

you swallow thickly, wiping a bead of sweat, and reading the next question on the page.

you: okay, next question. what's your workout regimen?

ellie: uhh. don't really have one. running for you life and fighting infected with the strength of a powerlifter certainly helps.

you: that's it?

ellie: what do you expect me to say? i lift six out of seven days of the week and drink raw egg yolks?

you: okay...don't need to be so sassy. jeez.

she looks at you, and laughs, shaking her head.

ellie: what a brat.

you: .....are you trying to flirt with me?

ellie: and so, what if i am?

you: feeling confident now, are we?

ellie: the alcohol helped a little bit.

frankie: kids! keep it professional!

you: right, right. ahem, ellie. how do you feel so far? being on the show?

ellie: definitely feel more comfortable. the alcohol and the pretty host interviewing me helped a bunch.

you: me? y-you think i'm pretty?

ellie: yea, of course.

you: you're not too bad yourself.

ellie: yeah? wanna get out of here after this? get another drink?

you: we can leave right now, if you want to.

ellie: hell, yeah.

the both of you get up from your chairs, retreating backstage.

frankie: hey! you guys! we have to finish!!

frankie sighs, knowing you both were already on your way to leave the studio.

frankie: i don't even think she can legally drink here!!! oh christ.

frankie picks up the mic.

frankie: well! that's all, folks! and i wanna say thank you for 1k! hopefully next time we'll have ellie again, accompanied by abby anderson!

ellie peeks out from the curtain.

ellie: WHAT?!

frankie: goodnight, everyone!

a/n: let me know how yall like this concept :P and how i can adjust! love u bbs

The year is 2025. RWBY may or may not still be in hiatus, or cancelled, or still ongoing.

At least 50 more useless side characters have been added to the cast.

Maria and Pietro are still missing. Ruby comments by saying "Huh, I wonder where Maria and Pietro are". Yang replies "Maybe they're off on a date", Blake replies "Oddly wholesome" and they all laugh together.

The current villain is a dark-skinned male Faunus who happens to be a working-class family man who is fighting for a social issue that is oddly relevant to some real-life events in 2025. But it's okay guys, bad people corrupting noble causes is still totally a valid way to write villains.

Bumbleby is still not canon. Yes, they are still calling it a slow burn.

Cinder is still fucking alive, oh god why

Rooster Teeth has officially exhausted their entire supply of bright-eyed creators who aspired to work on RWBY. They finally hit their goal of either firing or expiring the contract of every last one. That'll teach them for having dreams.

The merch now consists of $500 shirts with RQBY sewn in microscopic fibre on the inside of the fabric. The show name was misspelled in the first print run, but enough people complained about it that RT just went "alright, fuck you guys" and didn't bother to change it since.

About half of RT's legacy staff have confirmed to be in some sort of really fucked up scandal. The other half made callout docs and tweets, which caused the fandom to be angry for a week before they went back to sharing fanart as usual.

RT is now currently using a new production pipeline, where every single animator's contract only lasts for a single episode, before they leave and they find new people to animate the next one. They're hoping to further optimise this process next year by making it per scene instead.

There is a new RWBY side anime coming out, animated by prestigious animation studio Cocomelon.

An entire team of four unambiguously queer Hunters were killed onscreen. CRWBY has blamed the first death on a team of rogue, disobedient animators accidentally drawing her kissing a girl and confessing her undying sapphic love for her - she wasn't meant to be seen as a lesbian. The second death was blamed on the fans, the crew saying "this was supposed to be a side character, but you all started liking her and demanding more screentime for her, so fuck you" in the Volume commentary. The third was a monkey Faunus with comically yellow skin, squinted eyes and a long moustache named Mu Fanchu whose Semblance involves him making monkey noises and his weapon is a giant banana - surprisingly, he turned out to be secretly evil. The fourth just died offscreen because she was a fan character who won an OC fan design contest, but they had no time to include her in the show - in fact, the time her death was mentioned was the very first and only time the character was introduced.

Jaune says onscreen "Somehow, Ironwood has returned."

Green Dust is now Fire Dust, which Eddy confirms in a Reddit post - not in r/RWBY, but in an obscure reply in r/fantasygeology. No one found that post until 2 months later and when asked, the reply was "Green fire exists, I can see how you can get them confused".

Ozpin has now reincarnated into Oswald Pint, one of eight new boys currently with RWBY's group and for some reason have more screentime and agency than the girls. Oscar died in Volume 11 Episode 3 in a sickeningly distressing torture scene - that's the episode, the whole episode was the torture scene.

The fandom is abuzz over the newest queer rep in the show: a talking glass of water named Clear, who is genderfluid.

RT releases a RWBY mobile game only available in two postcodes, is not written in English and discontinues it after 3 months due to "stupid fucking fans not engaging with our products". Fans continue to insist that somehow, this must still be either WayForward or SHAFT's fault.

Jaune Vs. Aquaboy is slated to release next year. In fact, Volume 11 stopped in the middle of Episode 4 and will be on hiatus for the next 3 years until the crossover is out.

Speaking of Jaune, he just killed Nora. In fact, he did it just as I was posting this. Oh, he's killed Ruby too. And Clear our genderfluid queen, and Aquaboy as well. Oh god, he's looking this way, help me

The year is 2025, and if one thing hasn't changed, it's that hardcore RWBY stans are still around. When asked about the state of RWBY, they had this to say:

"RWBY is still amazing, and CRWBY is still amazing. Shame about those queer and PoC employees... oh well! I'm supporting manufactured fictional minorities so same thing, really."

swan queen has been heavy on my mind and my heart lately. perhaps due to the amount of shows that's been canceled with sapphic characters, or maybe for some other reason, but ultimately its finally allowed me to sit and really process what the ship meant to me.

the sheer potential of swan queen was always something that took my breath away. you had the light and the dark. "born" to be evil, born to be good. parallel experiences, each having a hand in each others lives and fate...

both deciding fuck that and doing what felt best for their life, their happiness and ultimately each other.

i sit here wistfully thinking about what could have been with swan queen. it's not something I get too angry over anymore, but sometimes I sit and realize how far from being able to have a canon show with a plot like that is.

not for lack of trying.

I'm so angry. not because swan queen wasn't canon, not because of whatever has been canceled but because it really feels like TV dangles sapphic ships in front of our faces, with potential... canon and non-canon ships alike... and then dash it.

i don't know, maybe processing a lot of the shit that's happened in the past and seeing cycles repeat but in different ways now has brought this all up but I'm feeling so bitter about media right now.

i don't understand why we can't have two parents who share a kid and ties of fate with a complicated past fall in love. i don't understand why two people who would sacrifice themselves for each others happiness are only ever seen as gal pal's and besties.

yeah, we have the fic and the manips and the fanvids but once I would like to win. once I would like to have a regular ol' network show with a couple who are the perfect opposite of each other who happen to be lesbian/sapphic/queer/ and have a banter-type relationship fall in love.

to my fallen and unsung fanon ships that never had a chance because of the powers that be, I love you and one day I swear I'll make you proud with my own damn network show

I was tagged by @slowtides to talk about what I've been reading lately! Here's a couple things I've read this year so far. I was a little slow with reading the first 4 or 5 months since I was finishing grad school, but I've read all of the above in the last five or so months. I can talk a little about each of them!

The Eye of the World - I finally started on The Wheel of Time series this year. A friend of mine in college about ten years ago told me to read this and with the show, I decided to give it a try. I really thoroughly enjoyed this first book. I found Rand and Mat's storylines a little less exciting than Perrin and Egwyane but otherwise I really loved this and I'm already reading book two! I really want to read the whole series.

Elantris - my very first Sanderson novel. I'm so glad I started with this one as it was his first (written and published) novel so now I can see how his writing has evolved. This was such an interesting concept and really fueled my imagination and made me want to write again. It was surprisingly easy to read (for some reason I was expecting his writing to be denser and harder to get through but now I realize why he's so popular!) and I flew through it. I really want to get my own copy and annotate it while rereading it.

Bloom Into You - A manga series recommended to me by a person irl for reasons. I haven't read manga in a long time and I've never read a non-magical manga before. It was super cute!

Where the Nightmares Go - was throughly enjoyable. The first and last stories in particular were WOW. The second one (I think it was the second, maybe the third) was so terrifying that I literally could not allow myself to picture it in my head as I was reading or I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep for like a week. Highly recommend if you like horror and uncanny fiction.

The Ex-Girlfriend of my Girlfriend.... - It was good! Very lesbian centric (I was feeling a little bi-erasure) but as I'm trying to explore my queerness, I was happy to read through these situations. The latter parts of the book definitely felt a bit more bi-positive and openly queer (umbrella term) so I think it was worthwhile to read. The bright colors and illustrations were also very fun.

Nettle and Bone - After graduating I read a lot of novellas because it was easier than full novels. This was my first T. Kingfisher and will not be my last. The topic was women and breaking cycles and dealing with family and finding independence and also about hot-silver-fox-fighters and demonic chickens. Cannot go wrong.

High Times In the Low Parliament - Another novella. Totally bizarre and amazing. Fae/faeries, government, sapphics, lots of drugs. It was super enjoyable and I think maybe the first novella I read after graduating??? So it's gonna stick with me. I might even purchase a copy.

Off With Her Head - What promised to be a historical breakdown of misogyny unfortunately turned into a repeated argument for 75% of the book, with the only actually engaging chapters being the ones with historical research. It will definitely make you angry if you are a women or are anti-patriarchy, but after a while the anger will get tiring until you get to The One Juicy Historical chapter. I don't usually read nonfiction so this was maybe not the best thing for me to read.

White Cat, Black Dog - I can't say much about this except that Kelly Link is my favorite short story author and I got this practically brand new book for $10 at a used book store. One or two stories were a little meh for me, but nothing downright awful. I love the way this is retellings of other fairytales but feels sooooo different you'd never know it until you read the acknowledgements or notice that the original tales titles are written at the beginning under the titles. I particularly loved the retelling of Tam Lin.

This is for anyone who wants to write a bit about what they've been reading or what's been engaging for them lately! If you want to share, please do! Also tagging a few people: @twoheartsoneclara @antoine-triplett @actuallylorelaigilmore @spellmansabrina @thyla

Aurore headcanons because she deserves love.

She's been interested in meteorology since she was 7yo. She wanted to play outside but kept being interrupted by rain, and it bothered her so much she started learning by herself what kind of clouds and indicators would let her predict rain.

She's totally a cloud nerd. Lots of people know stars and the night sky, she instead knows clouds and the day sky.

She'll start rambling about how supercell storm clouds are the coolest if you let her.

She totally judges people based on their favorite weather. Loves stormy people. Likes snowy people too. Hates sunny people, thinks they're basic.

She's a very impulsive person and has some problems controlling her emotions. She's very intense.

Kinda agressive too, just don't mess with her.

She's easily distracted and has kinda bad grades. She just doesn't understand why she can't go full meteorology studies right now.

Still, she can be very sweet with friends, but she has trouble making them because of how intense she is. A strong quality of hers is loyalty, though: she'll stick with her friends no matter what.

Arrogant but not on Chloé levels. She's just a proud girl.

Weather is something she likes a lot, so that's why she became so angry when Mireille won the contest.

Oh and she's totally a lesbian struggling with comphet. Mireille is questioning (totally sapphic, but still not sure if lesbian, bi or ply) and they eventually start dating. Adrien was her "crush" but she's not even attracted to him, it's mostly heteronormativity. I'm p sure Aurore is a femme.

The Beauréal family has had lots of Aurores.

She sometimes models and acts too. That's why you can see her on comercials. She's worked with Adrien a few times.

She's got neat stage presence.

She was childhood friends with Marinette, they split appart in middle school.

She's fit to be a Miraculous holder, but she'd need to learn how to control her emotions and impulsiveness.

Dragon!Aurore is both best Dragon and best Aurore. She'd be Cumulonimbus. Her fav element would be lightning because she loves thunderstroms.

She knows every single thing about weather, clouds and the Dragon's elements. Longg wouldn't need to explain a lot to her, she already knows.

Deep down she is interested in Alya, either in a platonic or romantic way. She wants to talk to someone interested in something similar (Alya, wanting to be a reporter, has some things in common with her, and they're also good with researching).

She wants to be friends again with Marinette too. They sometimes talk and both of them know they can count on the other if needed (see Marinette defending Aurore from Chloé).

She's deeply scared of being Akumatized, she knows she has strong emotions. She fears of being a villain forever and slightly thinks she can't change.

Oh and apologising to Mireille is what prompts a friendship between them. Mireille, although affected by the Climatika thing, understands Aurore was being manipulated. They start talking and collaborating.

Mireille, a sweet introvert totally balances Aurore.

Marinette would also balance her pretty well.

Alya and Aurore, on the other hand, would totally make a chaotic couple. Still, qhen they get focused they're amazing researchers, along with Max.

Overall, Aurore just wants more friends and more control of her emotions. She likes clouds!

Istg she's really pretty and I wish we had more of her. Just imagine DRAGON AURORE.

i really dont want to come off as mean like im genuinely curious ,, why do people ship jinzula? bc they have no interactions so i dont understand where it comes from? pls i want to be education so maybe also gift me with some jinzula hcs

Hey there, Anon! Yeah I 100% understand the confusion.

Honestly, I’m VERY deep in this fandom and it gets to a point where you’ve built all these different ideas and characteristics for characters—especially ones you don’t see much of. So if I were to have just barely watched the show and then saw someone shipping Jinzula I’d be like ???!?!?!??????!??

There are other fandoms with ships who have never interacted, too. Jinzula is a ship I like because I have a pretty good idea of Jin’s canon personality, as well as her fanon one, and I have a pretty good understanding of Azula, too. And I think they’d make a super cute pairing if their met (after Azula gets a redemption and the help she needs).

I mean, I love these two funky sapphics. The intimidating and protective one paired with the bubbly and sarcastic one is a great dynamic! But it’s not for everyone and some people don’t like to ship characters who haven’t met before while others do. (I’m usually not into it but these two are one of the few exceptions lol)

So yeah, Jinzula is something my brain just thought up (though I’m sure other shipped it before me) and I kinda just... rolled with it. Bc I love the idea :)

Now for those headcanons (these all happen after Azula has gotten that redemption)

Azula used to hate the color green, but since meeting Jin it’s become her favorite.

Azula is strong as heck so she can completely pick Jin up. This results in lots of casual bridal-style carrying sessions and piggyback rides. Azula insists it’s just for convenience, but secretly she just likes hearing Jin laugh when she sweeps her up.

Jin braids Azula’s hair when she’s bored. Azula doesn’t seem to mind, which is insane because she never lets anyone touch her hair.

Azula isn’t one to get flustered (EVER) so when Sokka sees Jin make her blush, he laughs about it for ages and excitedly tells Zuko about it.

Jin is very informal and funny, Azula’s straight-faced and has extremely dry humor (not unlike her brother). This makes for some hysterical interactions.

Azula is very intelligent but becomes Dumb As Fuck when Jin is around because she’s a lesbian mess who can’t think around pretty girls.

It wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t hate at first sight. They just hung out over and over again because people were encouraging Azula to make friends and one day Azula realized she’d fallen in love with her.

When Jin plans the dates, they end up eating nice meals, stargazing, or sitting on a front porch late at night telling stories. When Azula plans the dates, they end up out of breath running from an angry shopkeeper or throwing knives at targets. They both enjoy all of these activities.

The first time Azula laughs super hard (without any maliciousness behind it), it’s because of Jin. (She did something silly and Azula couldn’t control herself).

That’s just a few, but there are tons of possibilities. It’s basically “the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one” with sapphics and I love that for them!!

And again, if shipping characters who don’t interact in canon isn’t for you, then hey, that’s cool. I just think they’re neat :)

Thanks for the ask!<3

let’s talk about lesbophobia in fandom

i don’t like to use the word “lesbophobia” unironically because of all the gross radfem terfy connotations, so i will clarify right off the bat that i am neither a terf nor an aphobe and that if you are i want you off my blog like, right now. unfortunately, the meaning of lesbophobia has been so warped by alt right lesbians that seeing it in an unironic context makes me, a lesbian, uncomfortable, which speaks volumes in itself. so to clarify, lesbophobia is essentially homophobia with a pinch of sexism thrown into the mix, and it’s running rampant in supposed safe spaces and, more relevantly, fandom. 

/i’d also like to clarify that i’m not only speaking on lesbophobia, but also the general disgust and disdain for all wlw in fandom, and am using it as a sort of umbrella term/

lesbophobia and disdain for wlw has been around forever, but whilst gay positivity, mlm and mlm ships have been steadily increasing in popularity within fandom over time, wlw and wlw ships have remained perpetual underdogs. why? because lesbophobia has become a fandom within itself. both in and outside of fandom, we see instances of casual lesbophobia every single day—from aggression towards wlw to something as simple and prevalent as the complete and utter lack of sapphic ships and characters in media. hatred of lesbians and wlw is practically a trend, and it’s seeping in through the cracks of fandoms who are already facing issues with minorities and marginalized groups (i.e. racism, ableism). if you honestly think that lesbophobia isn’t prevalent as hell in fandom right now, you’re either not a wlw, you’re not all that involved in fandom, or you’re dumb as shit. 

just look at ships. in almost every single fandom, the ratio of mlm ships to sapphic ships is ridiculously unbalanced. people are quick to ship male characters who so much as smile at each other (and i don’t condemn that) but would never do the same for two women—even on the rare occasion that the ship is actually canon. i once wrote a wlw fanfic for a [predominantly straight] fandom, and received messages like this gem:

on the flip side of that, if there is a sapphic ship in canon or fanon, it is often fetishized and sexualised to a disturbing degree. there will be double the amount of nsfw art and fics, and ninety percent of it will be derogatory and fetishized as hell. having been actively involved in several fandoms over the past few years (and currently a content creator in one), i’ve seen instances of all this hundreds of times. people go crazy for mlm ships, but the second you say you ship/prefer a wlw ship, there’s always someone at the ready with, “i think all ships are great!” or “it’s not a contest” or “i prefer [insert m/m or m/f ship] actually” or “they’re my brotp!/why can’t you just let them be friends?”. not only do lesbians and wlw not get to have any rep in media, any rep that they try to create for themselves in fandom just gets attacked or ruined. this is so detrimental not only to all wlw, but especially to younger wlw who will end up being indoctrinated into this belief that their sexuality is something dirty, something that can never be tender and sweet but rather something that deserves to be preyed upon. 

building on that, let’s talk about engagement. i run an instagram account (where i have a significantly bigger following) as well as this blog for my fandom, where i post the content i create (mainly text posts). when i first started creating content, i made a lot for a relatively unpopular wlw ship, in which both girls are canonically romantically involved with a dude—though one of them is canonically pan. their canonical m/f ships are both very popular, and i noticed that my engagement was dropping every time i posted them, so i eventually just stopped. it wasn’t even a conscious decision; i merely resigned myself to the fact that the fandom didn’t want to see sapphic ships, and some people would even go as far as to condemn them. for reference, my instagram posts get an average of about 500 likes per post (popular ones usually exceeding 1k), but when i post this ship, my engagement drops to about 250 likes. similarly, my tumblr text posts have an average of about 140 notes per post (popular ones usually reaching up to 750), but my wlw content rarely surpasses 100. this just feeds the cycle of wlw never getting rep: if, like me, content creators become disincentivised by the lack of engagement with their sapphic content, they’re more likely to stop making/posting it, leading to further lack of rep—and when new content creators try to rectify that, they face the same problems. 

and then, of course, there’s the treatment of actual wlw in fandom. my best example of this is when my friend and i made an anti account on instagram (the first instagram anti account in that fandom), our bio saying something like “salty and bitter lesbians being salty and bitter”, and received an onslaught of lesbophobic insults and threats from angry stans within hours. (tw: r*pe) one commenter even went as far as to tell us that they wanted us to get r*ped. as well as this, i’ve seen so many instances of people using slurs against lesbians in arguments/in anons, often for no apparent reason other than they feel that they have the right. when i first mentioned i was a lesbian on instagram, my account only had about 200 followers, and within a day i lost 20. i also lose followers whenever i post f/f ships, not quite to that extent but enough for it to be noticeable, on top of the aforementioned engagement dips. in the face of all this adversity, i think a lot of wlw turn to mlm ships because they’re the closest thing we have to actual rep, but when we do we get accused of fetishizing them by the same people who fetishize us. there’s an endless list of double standards that non-wlw have been upholding for years, and i can firmly say that i’m really fucking sick of it. because of our sexuality, we will never be allowed to enjoy something without someone labelling it or us as dirty or otherwise problematic, when to them, the only problematic thing about us is that we aren’t pleasing men. 

as i mentioned before, the lack of rep for wlw in media is appallingly consistent, and part of that stems from tokenism. in a lot of modern mainstream media, you’ll have one, maybe two lgbt characters, and nine times out of ten those characters are white cis male gays. of course, there are exceptions to this, but generally, that’s it. script writers and authors (especially cishets) seem to have this mentality of, “oh, well, we gave them one, that’s sure to be enough!”, which means that on the off chance you do get your gay rep, the likelihood of also receiving wlw or any other kind of rep becomes practically non-existant. this belief that all marginalized groups are the same and that one represents all is what leads to misrepresentation on top of lack of rep, which is what makes tokenism so dangerous. if you treat your only gay character badly, you are essentially treating every single gay person badly in that universe. so not only is lesbophobia and disdain for wlw harmful to sapphic women via their exclusion in media, it’s also harming those minorities who do get rep. when people try to defend lesbophobic source material, that’s when fandom starts to get toxic. the need for critical thinking has never been more apparent and it has also never been less appeased—and wlw are getting hit hard by it, as always.

finally, a pretty big driving factor of lesbophobia is, ironically, lesbians. my lesbian friends and i often joke that though everyone seems to hate us, no one hates lesbians more than lesbians do. though i’d say it’s most prevalent on tumblr, i see traces of it all over the internet. the growth of alt right lesbian movements is not only reinforcing hatred for lesbians, but also reinforcing hatred for bi and pan women. here you have these terrible lesbians using their platforms to express their disgust for bi/pan women, for aces and aros, for trans women/nb lesbians, and people see them and say, “gosh, lesbians are just awful.” and just like that, all of us are evil. occasionally, lesbian blogs that i follow get put on terf blocklists for no other reason than the fact that they have “lesbian” in their bio. and the lesbians that actually deserve to be on those blocklists? they’re too busy spewing misinformation about trans women and bi women to care, boosted up by their alt right friends in an ever-expanding movement. i’ve found that this heavily influences fandom on tumblr, lesbians often getting branded as “biphobic” when they hc a female character as a lesbian rather than bi or pan. this criticism of both lesbians and wlw by lesbians and non-wlw alike only ever allows lesbophobia to grow, both in and out of fandom. that said, lesbians aren’t to blame for their own discrimination; rather, many of us have been conditioned into subconsciously endorsing it after spending our entire lives hearing heterosexual platitudes about lesbians and sapphic relationships. homophobic cishets are and always have been the nexus of this oppression—the only difference is that now they can hide behind alt right lesbians.

one thing has been made apparent to me throughout my time in fandom, and that thing is that no one likes to see men “underrepresented”. people hate sapphic ships and lesbians so much because there is no room for men, and men Do Not Like That. so, like the worms that they are, they slither their way in, be it through fetishization or condemnation of wlw characters and ships, and they ruin whatever good things we have going for us. the thing about worms, though, is that they’re easy enough to crush if you’re wearing the right shoes.

so to all my bi/pan gals and lesbian pals: put on your doc martens, because we’ve got ourselves some lesbophobes to stomp on. 

Headcanon: Deus Ex Scuba Gear

Note: Spoilers for Bly Manor. 

So, here is my Bly Manor/Supergirl crossover crackfic headcanon where Kara is Dani and her ex Mike gets killed by a truck when he walks into traffic after Kara comes out to him and breaks off their relationship.

“Mike, I think I’m gay,” the blonde whispers, too ashamed to speak any louder. The man next to her tenses slightly before a look of relief washes over him.

“Oh thank God,” he says, and smiles at a confused Kara.

“What? You’re okay with this?” Mike shrugs and shoots the woman his frustratingly disarming grin. 

“I mean, am I glad I’m being dumped? No. Am I relieved that the reason is you aren’t into guys? Kind of.” Kara wrinkles her brows in confusion and he continues. 

“I mean, I know I’m hot.” Mike grins again and winks at the blonde who purses her lips at his peacocking, “I thought maybe you were just frigid or something.”

“Mike!” Kara looks around to make sure no one is listening. Mike laughs and she shoots him a glare. 

“Hey, you’re the one that decided to break my heart at the corner of a major intersection.” 

He winks at her and she advances on the man, trying to shut him up. He skips away from her, ignoring the fact that he is now in the crosswalk of the intersection. 

“Mike! Stop fooling around!” the blonde pleads but the man ignores her. 

“Hey, were you checking out chicks while we were together?” He waggles his eyebrows and Kara balls her fists at her sides. She refuses to take the bait. The man just laughs at her silence. “Dude, you totally did. What’s your type?” 

He goes quiet suddenly and his face lights up. Kara shakes her head. It is seldom a good thing when the man gets a light bulb moment. 

“Hey Kara,” his face gets lecherous and Kara readies herself for some horrifying comment, “Would you let me watch?” 

Kara’s face blooms red with embarrassment and anger. She steps closer to jab her finger against the man’s face and get her point across. However, Mike anticipates this and he takes another step back, grin still in place even as a truck barrels into his body. Kara stares in shock, midstep and with her finger still in the air as Mike is flung at least twenty feet down the street. The smell of burning rubber as the truck attempts to stop and the blaring sound of a horn being pressed much too late fill her senses. 

Kara: “No, Mike, not gay as in happy. Good lord, dude!”

Kara is at the hospital when Mike is pronounced dead. Rhea never really liked her so she leaves for her apartment, still shaken but confused about how she feels about what happened. On the one hand she feels responsible for what happened, but on the other hand, she almost feels relieved. Until, that is, she goes to wash her hands in the bathroom and sees Mike standing behind her. She screams and when she turns around, he is gone. It isn’t until a few days later that she hears someone walking around her apartment that she realizes what happened. She grabs her trusty bat and walks out, expecting some coke addict rifling through her bookshelves but instead sees Mike, pawing at her bookcase. He grunts in frustration when his hand goes through a book but cheers when he manages to knock one onto the floor. Kara drops the bat in shock and Mike turns around, grins wide and puts a hand up in a peace sign, just like when he was alive.

Mike: “I’m still here, bro!”

Turns out Mike is tethered to Kara and it is a horrible, cruel curse. He is both the best and worst wingman and Kara is still not convinced he doesn’t try to peek when she is getting dressed or showering but he also helps her learn to be more confident. All his shameless arrogance makes him a great cheerleader, at least once they talk about some ground rules.

1. No creeping on Kara in the bathroom or when she is changing. Mike scoffs at this and mutters about being able to creep on hotter ladies. 

2. No unsolicited advice or comments about women that Kara is not interested in pursuing a relationship with. This is added after a week of Mike making comments about women that had Kara blushing constantly, even at work.

3. No watching when Kara has a lady over. She wasn’t sure where Mike disappeared off to when she did manage to have a date come back to her place but he would always leave after shooting Kara another peace sign and telling her to “do the circle thing I showed you.”

It all hits the fan when Rhea gets wind of Kara dating women and she packs up and leaves. She does not want to deal with that fallout and she would rather get a fresh start somewhere else. Where is that where else? London, Bly Manor, American au pair, you know the rest.

Kara: “Yeah, I’m gonna take a one way and gtfo of here.”

Who are our players at Bly?

Our cook Owen Sharma is good old Jack Spheer because sometimes these things write themselves. And who is our beloved Hannah Grose? Why, Lucy Lane. Because she was too good and I always want to see more of her. Plus she can be a stern little spitfire with the kids and ghosties (The kids refer to her to as Major). She takes her fine self and daydreams about the moment that charming Jack came over to get the job as a cook, not dead, just as a useless hetero (is that a thing? It is now...) that can’t fathom for some reason that Jack is totally in love with her.

As for Rebecca Jessel and Peter Quint? Kelly Olsen (the only character with any brain cells half the time) and Andrea Rojas, our muy caliente Scotsman. Is that racist? No, but her horrendous accent might be a crime. This version has none of the controlling assholeroy of Peter and no secretly killing Rebecca. Just good old bad luck in a horror series. Andrea gets drunk and tries to dive into the lake to find the chest of loot she is convinced is down there so her and Kelly can run away to America. 

Andrea: “This is a file on all the reasons you should run away from this haunted ass creepy mansion and come with me to America. Also, there is a map I drew of the lake with an X where the loot most definitely is.”

Kelly: “This is just a picture of you in lingerie and a sheet of paper you colored blue with a big red X in the middle.” 

Kelly dies trying to save her when Andrea starts to get hypothermia and they both drown in the freezing lake. Because why bury your gays when you can drown them? Amiright? Who finds their bodies the next day? This leads to the following section: Next slide, please!

Who is standing in for Miles and Flora Wingrave? Why, Ruby and a tiny Nia, of course. Nia is a sweet baby angel and I want to meet her as a little sister, totally doted on by her big sister, Ruby. Nia sees Andrea and Kelly arguing like lesbians (so much hand waving and crying and angry whispering) on the far end of the lake while their blue popsicle bodies float around. Ruby and Lucy drag little Nia away from the scene.

Nia: “My giant scarf is perfectly splendid! Also, I am baby.” 

Things get really spicy when Kara shows up, ghost!Mike and all. He complains about not being able to haunt the “hot chick from apartment 314” any more, but he perks up at the thought of “British broads.” Kara had hoped he was tethered to National City or something, but it appears he is linked to her. Mike is ecstatic when he finds out Bly is full of ghosts. He is always off somewhere exploring the mansion and only pops in to tell Kara snippets of Bly’s history and its many inhabitants. 

Meanwhile, we get to the real star of this indulgent charade. Lena as the wonderfully fit Irish (let her have the accent!) gardener, Jaime. She is convinced Kara is a corn-fed straighty from America until Kara throws herself at her in the greenhouse because flowers turn on lesbians (see Imagine You and Me and Georgia O'Keeffe’s many works. This is sapphic lore, kids.) She opens up about Mike and Lena smooches her so she doesn’t have to listen to the hot blonde’s delusions. 

Lena: “What do you mean it is too bright? What book? This is a watering can for my gardening activities. So is my fashionable, appropriately sized hat.”

Kara: *OMG she is so hot and cool, what do I do?* “Hey, do you guys do the circle thing in the UK?” 

Meanwhile, things are getting interesting with Mike and the ghosts: Kelly and Andrea, newly minted Bly ghosts, explain that they are stuck on the grounds. Mike, who believes in having the freedom of “you do you,” vows to break the curse. He strikes a heroic pose that makes Andrea roll her eyes but Kelly agrees they need to find out more about the origins of the Bly Manor curse. 

Flashback episode in a horrid b/w tone because I want to show this is old, okay. It’s not like we could figure it out by the clothes. Or the set dressing. Or the fact that the one of the characters died of “the lung.”

Anyway, we have our sisters, Viola and the other one. Their names don’t really matter because they are going to be the brunette one and the blonde one, played by the queen of period series: Katie McGrath.   

Anger-y brunette Katie, getting her smacking hand ready. 

And blonde, sad (but also evil? plot twist!) Katie, lusting after her brother in law. 

And they fight over none other than Daddy Cullen, Maxwell Lorde, because look at that hair, look at all those buttons, look at that big hand! Who could resist? 

The child is baby Lena being twirled by Anger-y Katie pre-“the lung” because let’s just have this turn into a black hole that destroys itself. 

Baby Lena: “Swing me, mummy. Swing me with your good lungs!”

Anger-y Smack-You-Every-Time Katie: “I swung too close to the sky and now this is happening to me.”

So while Kara and Lena are christening all sorts of places at Bly (yes, even the master wing because, of course, the master wing), Mike, Andrea, and Kelly are incepting themselves into all sorts of memories and whatnot. Cue that montage!

404 ERROR. MONTAGE NOT FOUND. 

Whoops, looks like we blew our budget on that black and white filter. Sorry about that.

Once the ghost trio realizes the chest in the lake doesn’t in fact hold some dragon’s hoard of gold, but the key to ending this madness, Mike pops in on Lena and Kara to bring them up to speed. Kara screams at him about the third rule while Lena tries to accept the fact that her girlfriend (yes, they are girlfriends by now, keep up) has a ghost for a best friend. 

Kara makes Mike look away while her and Lena get dressed and after quite a bit of exposition, they decide to pull the chest up from the lake. Lucy and Jack have been off playing hide the croissant or whatever the straights do during their leisure time, but they quickly hop on the “break the Bly manor curse” train.  

There is a fun B (C?) plot where Ruby and Nia steal Jack’s car and drive into town. No one in town cares because they are rich and all the adults at Bly are busy romancing each other and assume the girls are being odd rich kids playing somewhere in the manor. 

The adults are planning how to get down to the chest without suffering Andrea and Kelly’s fate, when they find some scuba gear the kids bought on their last trip to town. It is wholly impractical but the adults shrug and accept the plot hole so they can hurry this along. 

They draw straws and Kara has to dive down and tie some chains around the sunken chest. Lena jumps in front of limited edition Scuba Gear Kara to stop her but the American has to America so she dives into the freezing lake after a swoon inducing “I’ll be right back” kiss. Like, gifable on tumblr, twitter, and whatever new platform there is a hundred years from now.  

Scuba Gear Kara: “Guys, I can’t see anything through this helmet. Guys?“

After a few tense moments where Anger-y Olden Time™ Katie tries to stop Kara, Mike, Andrea, and Kelly step in and use their ghost powers to keep her away from Kara. Jack uses his car to pull up the haunted chest and they pry it open with a crowbar and plenty of moxie. The screams of slap happy Katie of the past ring out around the heroes as the curse is broken. The ghosts cheer, everyone laughs nervously (they know the end is never the end in a horror story) and Kara shivers from the cold until she is next to the fire, dry and cuddled up with Lena.

As her final act of revenge, Anger-y Katie gives Kara the Lung(!) but thanks to the power of Science, our spunky American pulls through after properly completing the full course of treatment and antibiotics. This includes Lena taking sexy care of her girlfriend. *wink*

***** westershiresauce is not a medical professional and their thoughts regarding the health benefits/healing powers of a sexy nurse!Lena are not verified. Don’t take srsly. ***** 

Cut to, one more garden and I can retire, Lena, sitting next to an immaculate shrub, waiting for her wife Kara to bring out the tea and biscuits. 

THE END!

Lena: “I swear to all that is holy, if that tea is shite, I am leaving her. It’s been like thirty years!”  

Better with you

This is the way of things:  

Riley falls in love with Harper. Harper breaks her heart. Harper falls in love with Abby. Harper marries Abby. Abby has a friend. Riley falls in love.

In retrospect it both annoys and amazes her how Harper conditions so much of her life. If she imagined her life in the form of roads as complex, as confused and as diverging as the lines on her palm, there are probably multiple signboards that have Harper’s face on them, with some strange quote written beside them along the lines of “Hey! Been a while since you thought of me, the girl who ruined most of your life hasn’t it?”.  

Riley hates it.

Okay, so in all honesty, she hates it until she crashes into Maya.

*****

Here’s the thing about Riley: She’s stupid around the people she loves.

How else does one explain all her major life decisions? She stays quiet when Austin Thomas spray-paints “Dike” all over her locker (even through the shaking, and the trembling and the huddling in a bathroom cubicle in the morning, what has her more concerned is what it’s probably doing to Harper. Well, that, and the fact that dyke is hilariously misspelled). She watches Harper from across the corridor, biting her lip, holding onto her left arm with her right hand, and hates that she still wants her so badly that she can’t breathe. She hates herself for loving Harper, hates her heart for betraying her in this very fundamental way, hates it for not being able to think rationally enough.

(The thought makes her laugh. What brand of love was ever rational?)

Even after she’s adequately moved on, has fallen in love a second time, the third, the fourth, she can never really bring herself to do that. The thought of Harper will evoke all forms of insufferable feelings ranging from sorrow to nostalgia. Not fury, though. Never fury.

She walks out of high school with excellent grades, graduates med school top of her class, gets into the one of the best residency programs in her state, all in a misguided attempt to compensate for this huge cosmic failing she’s somehow been saddled with. If life handed out academic report cards, chits of paper with affirmations engraved on them, then the ones she would give her parents would read Your child is doing great; She’s sorry she’s gay. Your child is trying her very best. A tiny PS at the bottom right corner would say – Love her. Please.

And she comes back, every year, to those stupid White Elephant parties, combats side-glances with polite smiles, off-hand comments about how her peers are heterosexually married to their heterosexual partners with grimaces. Brevity helps, and so does a glass of wine on her at all times.

And then Harper brings Abby, one Christmas.

*****

She’s not going to deny that she has a little bit of a crush on Abby.

Come on. It’s Abby. She’s a lesbian dreamboat with some serious hair-game and the gayest sense of dressing she’s ever seen on anyone. How is a girl supposed to not like that earnest smile and deep, soulful eyes?

(But Abby’s earnest smile unfurls like a ribbon when it falls on Harper, and her eyes tell stories that seem to end at Harper, and Riley knows that in some rudimentary way, Abby has always, and will be always belong to her girlfriend.)

“Dude, we have to stay in touch,” Abby says, the morning after the party, when they run into each other. “I’m gonna need support at the White Christmas party next year. So, I don’t accidentally use the wrong fork and then embarrass myself.”

She laughs, enters her number into Abby’s phone. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to text all the time, because, well — hospital hours. But I will try.”

Harper, standing beside Abby, shoots her a tiny, strained smile. Things will never be great between them; there’s too much spilled blood, and angry tears that lie in this chasm, but this is maybe a tiny start to bring matters back to the way they were when it all started. Polite. Nice.  

Abby texts her — “I can’t believe I survived the Caldwells” five days later, and Riley has no idea at the time, but good things are on their way.

*****

“Please, please, please, please, pleeeeease,” Abby begs her over the phone. Riley is pretty sure she’s actually holding her hand out in supplication.

“Can’t you just give her flowers and chocolate like a normal person?”

A dog barks on the other end, and Riley imagines her walking dogs on the streets. “But I know this is something she really, really wants!”

“An obsolete book that’s only found in a bookstore in New York?”

“Yes!” Abby replies. “Wait, hang on. John, tell her how important it is.”

Some muffled noises, then John’s clear, deadpan voice is audible. “Hey Riley,” he says, sounding disinterested as always, “How are — wait, lemme at least ask her how she’s been, how life in New York has been, if there are any cute guys in her hospital—”

Riley stifles a laugh.

“—yeah, yeah, okay. Fine. Riley, this woman really wants it, God knows why. So I’ll be in New York this weekend. I’ll come with you to that store and then bring that book back.”

“So why do I have to come?”

“Because,” Abby sighs, like it should be obvious, “I don’t trust John.”

Weekend. Sleeping in. Riley closes her eyes, whispers a Rest in peace to a previously perfect weekend.  

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

*****

The woman nearly scares her out of her wits.

She’s split up with a still-woozy-from-his-flight John as he’s set off to find the book, and thumbing through the random paperbacks on the Fiction shelf, when a voice interrupts her musing.

“I wouldn’t recommend that one,” Riley hears, and whirls around, wide-eyed.

A woman steps out of the dark corner, hands held up as if in warning, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, awkwardly, “that I — I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Riley shakes her head, waves a hand to tell her it’s alright. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Pretentious. Definitely sat with a thesaurus. Too many men.”

The tiny detective that sits at the back of head, the one that registers women, and says “It’s elementary, Watson” every time it sees behavior that might be not-heterosexual, goes off with a ding.

“Too many men is a problem,” she admits, wryly, broadcasting her own message in case there was a willing audience. I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay. “What would you suggest?”

The woman steps into the light, slow enough so Riley knows she’s going to enter her personal space. She picks out a book from the top shelf easily, holds it out in front of her.

This close, Riley can’t help but stare. She’s taller, with dark hair that falls just past her shoulders. She’s wearing thick glasses, and behind that, her eyes are tiny and smiling. Riley smiles back, a little awkwardly. Looks at the book, then laughs.

“Sorry,” the woman chuckles, pointing to the copy of Midnight Sun that she’s just handed over, “Little joke.”

They’re still smiling at each other, when John ruins it all by exclaiming “Maya!” from behind her. And that’s when Riley discovers how easy it is to manufacture meet-cutes. And that she really, really hates Abby Holland.

*****

“How dare you?”

Abby sighs on the other end. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

John, who is currently scarfing down a hotdog, mumbles his apologies into the speaker.  

“I tried.”

“You didn’t even try,” Abby retorts. “What was the one thing I told you? Don’t let her on to the fact that you know Maya. And what did you do?”

“My best.”

Riley snatches it from him. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird of you to be setting up your girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend with your friend?”

(Just saying the whole thing aloud makes her head hurt)

“Harper doesn’t mind,” Harper’s reserved yet slightly amused voice comes, a little muffled. “Because Harper thinks it’s hilarious.”

There had been three rules, three rules that she had laid out for Abby at the very beginning, when their friendship was still in its tentative stages. One, no weird conversations about Harper. Two, no weird medical questions about fingers. And three, no setting Riley up on blind dates.

Riley had dodged Abby’s attempts to break rule number three about five times already.

(Who knew one could have so many single, willing and Sapphic friends in New York city? Part of Riley was annoyed; the other part was impressed)

“It’s not going to happen, you hear me?” she enunciates. “Absolutely not.”

*****

Riley doesn’t know why she’s back at the bookstore.

Well, she does. Officially, that is. As she had told John already, she hated the idea of things being so awkward, and that Maya must’ve felt that she was rude for clamming up after the whole story came to light, and that she definitely ought to go clear things up with her, let her know very politely that it wasn’t in the cards. John had uh-huh-ed and mm-hmm-ed and nodded until she got annoyed at herself for overexplaining. It was simply a courtesy call, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing else.

(If part of the reason she wants to go back is because, after a long, long time, she went to sleep with someone’s face in the back of her mind that night, kept replaying that certain someone’s voice over and over, it is none of John’s business. Or Abby’s, for that matter.)

It was crazy. Crazy. They’d had one conversation, and part of it had been after Riley had found out she was supposed to be set up, and thus had been filled with Maya trying to ease things over. There was no reason she needed to be thinking this much about someone.

(Not that she was. Thinking that much. About a woman. Just a regular amount)

“So wait, let me get this straight,” Maya looks right at her, “You came all this way to tell me that you don’t want to go on a date with me?”

Well now Riley just feels stupid. “Yes.”

Maya tilts her head a little. “Okay,” she says, “Just out of curiosity, what’s your problem with being set up with people?”

Oh, this she can answer. “One, the general awkwardness with your friends if it doesn’t work out,” she ticks off on her fingers. “Two, too much pressure to make it work. Three, I’m not—”

“—yes?”

Lovable. Bearable. Worth it.

“—looking to date?”

“What qualifies as a date to you, though?”

“A meal shared with romantic intent. Holding doors open, pulling chairs out. You know, the drill.”

Maya seems to be mulling it over. “Alright,” she says, nodding slowly. “What if.... what if two people were to spend time together with no food, no holding doors open or pulling chairs out? Technically that wouldn’t be a date, would it?”

Riley has to bite at the inside of her cheek to smother the smile that’s threatening to set up home on her lips.

“No,” she replies, “It wouldn’t.”

*****

This is what not-dating Maya is like.

It’s tired half-hour phone conversations at odd hours of the day. Riley doesn’t have a lot of time free, but she doesn’t go to sleep without talking to her at least once. She falls asleep to Maya nerding out about the books she’s read, about how she wants to own a gay café, about how she saw the ugliest shirt on a discount store window, bought it, and couldn’t wait to put it on. Wakes up to texts that read “Okay I know you fell asleep but I can’t, so I’m just gonna rant about random shit you can read about when you’re up, okay?” followed by some inane discussion on whether her pillow would be a salad or a sandwich if it could be eaten. It’s stumbling on the streets, half-carrying a drunk Maya as she navigates the confusing maze of New York avenues, and insists on having pizza wherever she goes. It’s bright smiles shot across coffee shops, tired rants before bed. It’s easy.  

It’s so easy that Riley has no idea what to do.

“Can you keep a secret?” she asks John on the phone, right before she tells him what’s been happening the past month.

To his credit, he listens to the whole thing before he says something monumentally stupid.

“A whole month and you haven’t had sex? I thought you had game.”

“Oh, fuck off. It’s not like that.”

“You don’t want to have sex with her?”

She’s blushing. “I — I do,” she says, feeling hot all over at the very thought. “I just — it’s not — not what’s important.”

“No, I mean, seriously” he says. “What do you guys even do? Stare at each other’s faces all day?”

“I wish I could stare at her face all day,” she says, before she’s even thinking about it. “Her face is all.... nice. Pretty. Oh God.”

“Oh God is right, darling,” he sounds amused. “You got it bad.”

“I do not — got it bad.”

“You do.”

“I do not — ugh fine.”

“Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you do got it,” he proposes. “What are you going to do about it?”

Riley takes a deep breath, lets it out. She has no answer to that.

*****

The next day, Maya says, sheepishly — “I guess you finally told Abby, huh?”

“Wait, what?” she’s confused. “Told her what?”

Maya blinks, awkwardly, waves a hand between them. Realization dawns.

“I told John!” Riley tells her, furiously. “That asshole must have told her.”

Maya shrugs a shrug that seems to convey how stupid it was to trust John with keeping secrets from Abby of all people.

“But also,” Riley frowns, “I thought you must have told her already.”

“Nah, I hadn’t.”

“Why not?”

Maya shrugs again, hands in her pockets. “I didn’t know if you wanted her to know.”

And see, it’s this consideration that leaves her lacking for words. Maya is effortlessly considerate, to the point where she wouldn’t say something even if it was bothering her. She’s constantly putting Riley’s needs in front of her own, constantly worried about how she feels and Riley is just. She’s just—

(The word grateful, smitten pops into her head. Refuses to exit)

“You’re nice,” she says, because other adjectives would be too revealing. You’re amazing. You’re beautiful. You’re probably the light of my life.

“I’m only nice to you, Riley,” Maya admits, very frankly. Riley kind of wants to ask her why that is. She’s kind of scared to ask her why that is.

*****

“Just ask her out, already, jeez.”

“I — I can’t,” she tells Abby, sitting at the park, phone in her hand.  

“You like her,” Abby states. “She likes you. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“She likes me?” Riley asks, knowing that she’s probably giving away all her hope in her voice.  

(Okay, in some weird, convoluted way, she knows Maya likes her already. She’s not completely useless, contrary to popular lesbian stereotype. Just an—

“-Idiot,” she hears, a deadpan chastisement that she rolls her eyes at, “What are you even waiting for?”

“I — I’m not — I don’t know, okay? I’m not—”

The ghosts of her ex-girlfriends in the background, go — Good at being emotionally available. Good at being committed. Good at loving people. Good.

Abby stays quiet.

“I don’t think I can make her happy,” Riley says, finally.

There’s the sound of a sigh on the other end. “What if you already do?”  

*****

“Again,” she says, as she’s walking backwards, “I am so, so sorry.”

Maya, who has been waiting for her to get done with her surgeries since two hours now, and will probably have to wait another couple of them, waves her phone in the air, laughs. “I’ll read a book until you get back, okay? Go do your thing.”

She’s on an ob-gyn rotation, but thankfully, the delivery goes smoothly. And a good thing it is, because her head is all over the place. Two warring factions are on a rampage — one that’s raring to go tell the girl of Riley’s dreams that she is, in fact, that girl of Riley’s dreams, and the other equally strong battalion that is standing there with flags raised, flags that read – But what if it goes wrong?  

Here’s the second thing about Riley: Love barely ever goes right around her.

Oh, she’s dated people before. Loved them, adored them. And yet, things always start falling apart after a while, start shattering into pieces. Honestly, she doesn’t even blame them. Who wants someone who barely has time to talk for an hour because she’s almost always busy, who is ridiculously tired most days, and barely has the time or energy to grow a relationship?  

(So it will happen when it happens, but also, when it happens, Riley has a tendency of scrambling for cover)

She walks into the main hall with the paperwork, and stands at the nurses’ station, lets out a deep breath.

“Your girl tuckered out an hour ago,” Shaqueel tells her, leaning against the table, casually interested. She can see the rest of the nurses leaning in for better quality audio.

“Not my girl,” she tells him, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Really?” Julie asks, face resting on her elbow, an expression Riley can only describe as sappy on her face. “Because she would like to be, that’s for sure.”

Riley turns to Danny. “I told you to make sure none of these,” she waves a hand towards all of them, “busybodies talk to her!”

He shrugs. “What can I say? They were determined.”

“Useless,” she says, already walking away. There’s so much damage control to be done.

Danny texts her a “She’s a keeper”, as she’s walking, and even though she’s mad at all of them, part of her is inclined to agree.

*****

Maya is sleeping.

Riley knows the tone in which she’s thinking this is certainly not the one two strictly platonic buddies would take while referring to each other and yet the tenderness seeps in, anyways. She looks at the hair falling over her askew glasses and wants to brush it off; looks at her dozing with her mouth open and the sight is such a perfect mixture to utterly absurd and adorable that she wants to wake up to it in the morning. Every day.

She takes a deep breath, presses at all of her wants and urges until they’re packed, once again, in the already filled box related to all things Maya in her head. Kneels so she’s almost at her level, and gently taps Maya on the shoulder.

(Waking up comes as beautifully to Maya as do all things, and Riley is most definitely an idiot in love)

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she says, softly, her eyes still squinty from the last remnants of her nap.

“Don’t apologize,” Riley replies, equally as soft. “I fall asleep all the time on the phone.”

“Eh, you save babies. It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long.”

“Riley,” Maya tells her, very seriously. “I would wait a lot longer for you.”

(And because being stupid is a fundamental quality of Riley being in love, there’s absolutely no way she isn’t swooning at that, inside)

She’s sleepy and tired and stupid right now, so it’s probably coloring her judgement, but she’s done caring. Riley Johnson is not letting this one get away.

“Would you,” she starts, slowly, “consider waiting two more days so you can take me out to a fancy restaurant on Saturday?”

There’s a light in Maya’s eyes that she can only classify as hope. “Depends. Would you open the door for me and pull my chair out?”

Riley’s smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. “Absolutely.”

“Well, then,” Maya says, leaning in, “It’s about fucking time.”

fuck it, queer meta.

About a year ago I wrote one of my first and largest meta posts about why I consider Cassandra a prime example of queerbaiting despite her being a character who explicitly says she is heterosexual. This lead to quite the day of inbox hate mail from people throughout the fandom. Most were upset I used the “q slur” and left it untagged as such in the big DA meta tags. I can imagine for those folks, the substance of what I had to say mattered little as a result. 

I deleted most of those messages and my responses soon afterward. They upset me greatly even as I took it all in stride. However, given that it’s been about 365 days since that fiasco, and some interesting events have happened with regards to current and former DA writers, I thought it would be “fun” to write a recap and reflection on why, generally, I still feel the way I did when I wrote that post. With some changes and growth, of course. 

The gist of it is, as we have come to learn in past, recent, and ongoing discourses in fandom, that much to the chagrin of a lot of folks in this fandom: BioWare, and in this instance DA writers, are not your SJW Icons. Furthermore, they never should have been, or should be, considered as such. 

The gist (part two) for me, is: for as much as diverse characters, worlds, and societies are being uplifted by Games these days, the counterbalance of bullshit is still there. And I think it survives most sturdily in the kind of logic the BioWare writing culture throughout the years. This sense of egalitarian, “of course” logic, that appears to make socially deviant identities normalized but really just falsely positions those identities as meant to be in lock-step with the norm. Representation to gaming, and most of media writ large, all-too-easily falls into the trap of “we want what the privileged have,” which it to say, we want our existence to be a no-brainer, even if it means we lost the essence of why our stories are so profound, important, and necessary to do justice. 

I really can’t imagine accepting the way characters like Cassandra were written because I don’t accept the writer(s) who wrote her. Why?

Come with me, and we’ll be, in a world, of pure fuckery...but with citations...because I’m an Academic and that’s my roll.*

*Please see tags for pertinent content warnings before clicking.**

**if you reblog and tag this shit with “q slur,” I will take all the reserves of understanding I have as a DA fic writer for all of the enraged womxn in the series and express it accordingly. And, as a femslash-oriented author, I can promise you: that expression will be consumptive. 

Hm, I wonder, what with the predominant writer for her character inquires on Twitter for “lesbian fanfic porn” recommendations for writing “research,” but seems to be unable to hire appropriate creatives to write, consult, etc. for the project. 

Or that the writers room made, and continues to make, space for a writer who continually does Black and queer characters dirty with his mediocre-at-best work, in both game and novel form (because, plot twist, he’s a shit writer) (1) (2) (3). 

Or that the writer’s room, and specifically Ga*der, attesting that the development of the Qunari was based on Arab cultures around the time of��“Medieval Europe,” which is somehow his way of getting out of the thematic botching of the Qunari language, social structure, etc. from Islamic tradition. 

Or, the writers who intentionally shaped the story so that Vivienne, one of the limited number of Black women characters in the entire series to have a role as an ally, to be a red herring of an distrustful and conceited antagonist, to the point where her treatment by fandom has been incredibly racist, heinous, and lazy for years.

These are a few of MANY reasons, with thorough exposition, why the veneer of “progressive inclusion” studios like BioWare claim to be authentic. Having “diverse” writers in the room -- and I’m using that word incredibly tenuously here -- didn’t change the result of any of these harmful scenarios. In fact, it created them. This, combined with the tale as old as time: toxic fandom culture with white, anglo-centric, cisheterosexual masculinist ideals at the fore, have gotten us here. 

So, do I hold all of the reasons why I am angry about Cassandra’s character writing the same way now, as I did then? No. Certainly not. In fact, there are parts where I would correct myself. On the other hand, the thesis for me remains largely preserved: I revile G*ider, I revile that he gets the accolades he does by fandom for his “diversity” of characters when he exploits, erases, and uses slippery morality to get out of admitting he has shortcomings in his work. I hate that the exaltation for representation still funnels itself onto the heads of white writers and predominantly white-staffed studios. 

And, underneath it all, I am mad that some of ya’ll see no problem with that. Because what does it matter, if you do not come from communities, cultures, and coalitions that get the brunt of this misrepresentation? What does it matter if it angers a lesbian fan that the writers who have a long history of misusing and conveniently copping themselves out when they write women and queer characters, seem to use that “expertise” as permission to do what they are supposedly combating?

G*ider, the hero himself, is on written record saying that it should not be second guessed as to why Cassandra is straight, just as he thinks it should not be second guessed that Dorian is gay. Yet, when he asked on Twitter if there was some moral significance to people modding character’s sexuality (in this specific instance, Dorian, actually), G*ider said that in the end, people’s mods “do not change” what he wrote, and that unless they claim their changes “supercede” canon, there’s no harm done. 

So, really, I’m just over here like -- is this ya’lls hero?

Why in the fuck would someone be modding a gay character to be bisexual or heterosexual, if they didn’t somehow believe that version “supercedes” the canon rendition? Secondly, where is the attention to the fact that, in an ensemble of multiple romanceable characters, Dorian has to be the one that has to be sexually and romantically accessible to those outside of his canonical realm of attraction?

I mean, for fuck’s sake, it’s the whole virtue grounding his companion side quest, the fact that he is estranged from his Father who tried to magically change his orientation! This is a crucial part of Dorian’s entire journey to serving the Inquisition, and serving Tevinter as a dissident.

But, you know, it doesn’t change what G*ider wrote. And he’s correct, it doesn’t change what he wrote, which he got credit, money, and esteem for. It doesn’t change that if you load up the base game, Dorian’s gay. In G*ider’s head, that is the protective force: the parts where he has ties, and not the culture of the fandom, the culture the fans who helped fill his pockets from that game have to dwell within. This isn’t revolutionary, this isn’t good-faith representation. This is getting a piece of the rotten-sweet pie and saying “let bygones be bygones, you toxic, funky heteronormative assholes!”

But, where are my manners. I’m getting heated, aren’t I?

Basically, if you condemn queer fans for calling out queer bating -- or any marginalized fan for throwing up the alarm for bullshit -- and your first reaction is to side with folks like G*ider who got theirs and said screw everything else, fuck off. Literally, fuck off. I call Cassandra’s circumstance queerbaiting because she’s one example of writers getting their cake and eating it, too. If they are so aware of just how much of their fanbase is marginalized folks, they don’t get to say they don’t have fingerprints on things like queerbaiting. You don’t get to be acclaimed and excused for the shit you say you are combating, which is the source of that acclaim. And if your claim is happy ignorance, then you definitely don’t get to blithely equivocate when fans do ask you why the story happened the way it did. 

I also just want to keep in mind here that there’s a deductive conclusion to be had about this, given how La*idlaw explicitly stated they endeavored to make Cassandra extremely hot, “really enticing.” That conclusion is: 

(1) Either they aren’t/weren’t nearly as attuned to their queer audiences as they generally claim to be, or 

(2) They were, and had no intention of developing compassion or empathy passed G*ider talking out of his ass about why Cassandra was developed as straight. Which, ultimately, does coincide with conclusion (1) more than not. 

No matter what, the contour to the conclusion is: wow, a taste of nauseating objectification, in the BioWare writer’s room. Who knew!

It’s no wild accusation to make to a writer like him and his colleagues, that they don’t know how to handle sapphic, wlw, and/or queer-related storylines, especially with women. Especially when the answer seems to be, “well, it was decided before I took the lead, and in any case, why question it! You wouldn’t question a gay character’s orientation!”

But that’s just it, you complete and utter turnip. People did question Dorian’s sexuality. People do question Dorian’s sexuality. That fantasy world of equal bearings is as insincere as it is out-of-touch. And why not, when, as you said, 

it doesn’t change what you got paid for.

The ethos seems to be crudely reflexive: people’s phobic interpretations and alterations of the canon do not matter, but then again, why would you even question why a character is straight? Why would you question my narrative vision, in all of its beautiful shittery?

It’s all a game of dodge, ya’ll. Dodge, dodge, dodge. With a strong and acidic dose of vanity. 

So. In summation, folks: I could care less for your false equivalences. I could care less about my contribution of queer content fucking up your good time in the meta tags. Obviously you aren’t there to actually engage in creative, exploratory thought, so why bother reasoning. There is more to the possibilities of queerbaiting than stringing along a could-be, would-be, should-be queer storyline directly. There’s knowing your audience enough to exploit your good graces with them. There’s benefitting from a charade of liberal progressive clout. There’s the ability to foresee that queer people will cathect to a given character, and not only denying an experience they could have, but denying it so harshly that the character says they can’t love yours because you’re female. 

And I am so, so, so sick of these people continually enriching themselves off of the “nobody’s perfect” grace. To me, that grace is the promise of good faith, and the intention to do right by people. When that isn’t there, the grace isn’t going somewhere where it’ll be appreciated, that it will be nourished by. I mean, fucking hell, people, this is rainbow capitalism: don’t you taste it?

That’s that, then. “Cassandra and Queerbaiting Rant,” one year on. An extra dose of salt, just for the haters. 

tell me abt... erisolkat, pale solrezi, and/or jaderosekan

i will do all of them. starting with erisolkat:

ok im gonna be honest i used to hate eridan and for such a long time i was just like :/ now ive always loved karkat. who doesnt. sollux does NOT get enough attention as a character, and these men? they are in love. eridan doesnt die. sollux and eridan stop being fucking idiots. and THEN they both realize oh fuck i may or may not like this shitty rat man who screams and yells and throws tantrums all day just because hes not exactly the worst in the world to talk to

you know how everyone shipped eridan and sollux weirdly in the fucked up homestuck era? and how it was like not even a good ship because they genuinely dont like each other as people? develop that. theyre too similar and they hate that about each other and themselves. they have Trauma. theyve been cucked by lesbian queen feferi peixes (i love her tho she deserved better) and they dont always like to be douches. cue karkat vantas, this angry toddler sized doof whos surprisingly good at playing therapist, the only person whos really ever been kind to eridan, and sollux's bff. both eridan and sollux catch feels and the shittiest romcom ensues in which anticlimactically, karkat tells them both to get the fuck along, they do, cue erisol trauma bonding and BAM erisolkat formed. they are in love and also very stupid

pale solrezi is golden theyre blind theyre smart and they both love to tease karkat. what more could you want? terezi recruits sollux to help her and her gfs to scam some old men out of a couple thousand in robux. also sollux sometimes comes to terezi with problems regarding his Emotions that he cant tell karkat and terezi does the same with vriska and basically, they have some Complexes.

JADEROSEKAN. ok i love this but it needs more.. women so jadevrisrosekanrezi and thats on SAPPHICS

they live. in a house. it has so many plants and they have 6 cats named after different spices. they all just kinda ended up convening? vrisrezi happened first, then rosemary, then jade and rose saw each other and kanaya saw this brightly colored fashionable lesbian who could snap you in half with a look and instantly fell in love so they said fuck it. jade and vriska? oh boy those two went at it, theyre both pretty reserved and the whole bottling up feelings? isolation? narrative? the parallels are beautiful. jade and vriska were definitely pitch for a few months before they were like shit i respect you a fuck ton. rose and terezi? on the meteor they LOVED to talk about the most recent Red Boy Drama, complaining about dave and karkats most recent Dumbe Boy thing. they love banter so you can imagine the fun they had getting back to earth c, and then seeing their respective gfs already figuring shit out. basically this ship worked out pretty damn easily after a while of the girls being like damn if were so close why dont we just live together. and then they did.

basically it goes like :

jade: hi this is my gf rose and her gf kanaya and her gf vriska and her gf terezi and i love them all and we live together :)

anyways! that was a lot. thank you for the ask but i Hope i could get you to consider.... Ships..

Larries Are a Problem: An Essay by a Former Larrie

I spent about seven years of my life believing in theories with vague proofs, not only referring to Larry Stylinson, but plenty of other ships of real life people. Even though I was only a child and young teenager for the majority of that time, that doesn’t excuse that me and plenty of other people, some older than me, were blindly believing and creating different theories about two men that didn’t know we existed. It’s fair to believe in whatever you believe in with the information that we are given in the public and I honestly do not have any hate for anyone in those years that fully believed in those theories that were created, however, there was a line being crossed that even I was blind to notice.

Before you start furiously typing at your keyboard to call me an “anti” or a “het” or even a “solo harrie” and that I’m the problem, read this in its completion. This is coming from someone that was once like you, but grew out of it and realized that things had gone a bit too far.

I think a line needs to be set into place when it comes to shipping real life people. There is a huge difference in believing that two people would look cute together and fetishizing them, analyzing every move they make, and turning every song lyric into a theory. You have to realize that these people have real lives and are real human beings, not characters from a television show that doesn’t exist in our world. The two of them have lives outside of the ones that they show publicly and it’s pretty obvious that they keep a lot of the information about their private lives, well, private. But when you skew that into hiding information from the public because they are being forced, that’s when things get out of hand. I have watched in the years that I had been a fan of this group: larries publicly harassing online (and even offline) the family members and friends of all those involved. Even now, as the Watermelon Sugar video had been released, larries bombarded livestreams of the models in the video asking if Louis had been on set, if Larry was real, and things of that nature. Not only questions, but telling family members and friends of the two horrible things, threatening some, and even making a few of them make their account private or just deleted all together (ahem, Xander). They even make them say “Larry” in livestreams in order to get a sliver of proof, which is a desperate attempt to be honest.

But worst of all is the girlfriends of both of them. I have watched Eleanor Calder grow from the moment she started dating Louis in the way beginning of One Direction being formed, but I have also sadly seen her every move, every facial feature, every body part being picked apart by larries on every platform she’s ever been on. To this day, she will innocently post a selfie of herself and I will see tweets and comments floating around saying that she doesn’t look like herself, she’s ugly, or she just simply doesn’t look good. Or that she’s trying too hard and everything she does is to cover something up, even if there is no proof of something going on. There was even a whole theory about her having a twin because she apparently looked too different in her pictures. The girl that Louis had a baby with, Brianna, is still shamed and made fun of daily, even if she is just simply posting pictures of the child they had together. They have no shame in telling women that they are ugly, that they are doing things for attention, all because they are linked to a man they think is in a secret gay relationship. 

The trend of larries bombarding the comments and replies of these girls must have a very bad effect on them. Eleanor Calder especially since she’s been with Louis for about ten years now (on and off but the harassment has definitely been consistent). (Some examples: here, here, here) They have picked apart the way that she smiles (or if she doesn’t), the way that she acts, what she wears, how she talks, and who she hangs out with. Not to mention she got literally jumped once. It’s almost borderline misogynistic the way that larries think that it’s okay to shame and make fun of women just to support their theories. Of course, not all larries, but a majority is too many. 

I have been called homophobic by larries online for the past few months whenever I speak up about me disagreeing with what they believe in, but why have they never turned the camera around and looked at themselves? A majority of larries are straight - I didn’t conduct an experiment to figure this out, it’s just that a lot that I see end up being straight - and use them being allies and their gay mutuals that also believe in Larry as their defense of them enjoying a gay ship. They’re just supporting gay people, right? Wrong. Louis has countlessly said that he is straight, no sense of homosexuality in his bones. It’s been argued that he has stereotypical characteristics of a gay man but that is legitimately just stereotyping to think that way. 

The only proof that I’ve ever been given is that he sits “like a gay man” or moves his body “like a gay man”, and that in itself is basically homophobic to think that a man doing anything feminine has to be gay. We live in a time that it’s becoming more acceptable to blur the lines of what is feminine and masculine and who can wear what - it doesn’t matter what a person defines themselves as, they can dress and do whatever they want without it being deemed feminine or masculine. So, when the only reasoning for placing a straight man as gay is the way that he walks, talks, and acts is forcing a sexuality just because of the stereotype that gay men are more feminine in those ways. 

There is no way that me not believing in two people being together is homophobic. Just because I say “Larry isn’t real”, that doesn’t mean I hate gay men? I don’t understand the logic. 

Let’s discuss the Watermelon Sugar video. This is the main thing that got me into making this post (and entire blog). The video is very sex positive - the themes of the 60s and 70s being implemented are very symbolic as that was a time of embracing sexuality. Harry’s video was very colorful, showed women in a non-fetishizing way, and was a huge thing for a lot of sapphics that watched the video. But, it was also a very attractive video, and people are allowed to believe that Harry is an attractive person and want to be with him (even if we know that it won’t happen). And because of that, a large amount of larries got angry that people even dared to thirst over Harry on Twitter. Not enjoying ‘thirst tweets’ is fine in retrospect, but many, and I mean many, larries were wishing death on anyone that did them, even calling them ‘sick in the head’, which can be incredibly offensive to people with any mental problems. They filled people’s replies with angry tweets, throwing TPWK at the end of them (as if that helps), and trying to make them feel disgusting for tweeting what they did.

 A tweet came out after the announcement video released joking about how even his walk is hot, and larries came in heavy accusing the OP of sexualizing everything he does.

These incidents don’t stop at just the video being released, it’s been going on for years. Think pieces saying “Harry has always been deemed as a womanizer his entire time of being in the spotlight, so don’t sexualize him every chance you get” come out whenever someone makes a joke about how sexy he is. They bring out the quote from Harry saying he doesn’t like being called a ‘sex symbol’ and use that against anyone that makes these ‘thirst tweets’ about him, claiming that he wouldn’t want to come back to social media because of people that do that. 

There is an entire series on Buzzfeed where celebrity men read ‘thirst tweets’ and laugh about the ones that are descriptive and strange. Every celebrity gets tweets about them being attractive and/or sexy, it’s a very normal thing for this to happen since no one expects the celebrity to ever see it. It’s basically word vomit that they post in no hopes for the person to see. 

Let’s turn the camera back to you guys now. The smutty fics, fan-art, and tweets about what you wish Larry would do together. Those are okay? It’s a double standard. Save the energy that is put on attacking harries for ‘thirst tweeting’ if you aren’t going to feel the same way when larries do the same thing. It’s even stranger when you go back to how I’ve said a lot of larries are straight. Finding it hot when gay men kiss and have sex when you’re a straight woman is fetishizing the idea of gay men and what they do in their personal and private sex lives. If you believe that men shouldn’t fetishize lesbians’ sex lives, then why do that to two men? 

When larries stop harassing other fans, family members and friends of both of them, and sending death threats to anyone that gives them a differing opinion, I’ll stop believing that they are one of the worst people on social media platforms. Harry and Louis could do anything, and there will be theories, comments, and arguments. Have you ever wondered why none of them even play with any of your ideas anymore? It has been ten years. Something should’ve happened by now, don’t you think? 

Their family members and friends shouldn’t be so sick of all of this that they get upset about it on lives, that they turn off their comments, that they don’t always feel comfortable being online. 

Again, I used to be one of them (I sincerely apologize), but I do not see how any of this behavior is okay. It’s been plaguing Twitter and Instagram for years now and I just want this to be a smack in the face that it isn’t okay to be this way. 

Hello.

I would like to have a metaphorical conversation- AND PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG.

What is this about?

This is about my gender (wow that sounds weird to say ug this is so formal kajskdjshsk)

Oh, okay, I don’t really care about your gender.

Honestly me either really but I’d like to use it to make a few points that are going to piss a whole lot of people off.

Then why are you bringing it up?

Because I like to be honest with my followers and I like to speak my mind and speak up for others and I want you to know if you don’t agree with me you can unfollow me. I would rather you know how I feel and my thoughts than you just following me because you think my blog is cool if that’s a concern of yours, which is completely valid and is also a concern of mine. I also think that maybe someone is in the same shoes as me and could use to hear this.

So what exactly did you want to say?

Basically that sometimes I feel cis and that sometimes I don’t.

That’s valid.

Thank you.

That’s not a thing.

Listen I really wish I wasn’t a thing, sorry to disappoint us both.

So you’re just a cis person who wants to feel special and insert themselves into the trans community?

I wouldn’t consider myself part of the trans community, really. I know that being nonbinary and genderfluid and other identities like that are usually filed under the “trans” community but I don’t identify as trans in any way. Maybe like an overlap sometimes in the nonbinary community? I’m still figuring things out, which I know a lot of people don’t like.

Are you just faking because you’re tired of seeing posts like “down with the cis”?

Idk. Maybe. I’m honestly quite worried about it. I’m worried that I am just a special cis snowflake that wants to be different and that I’m faking. But I do still identify as cis mostly. And yes I am tired of seeing those posts. There’s nothing like being super suicidal and then seeing posts telling you to go kill yourself or that your existence is an abomination.... much like other people have said about trans people and gay people and black people.... almost as if it has nothing to do with how you identify and people are going to treat you like shit because of who they are and how they act, not because of their gender or sexuality or race.

So transphobia isn’t a thing? And enbyphobia isn’t a thing?

Oh no, it is. I’ve just found that most of the time I see anti-trans posts it’s made by other trans individuals (truscum) or lesbians (terfs) almost as if you can still be LGBT+ and be a shitty person. However, I really don’t plan on saying things like “Down with the lesbians” or anything.

As a cis person, you don’t get any discrimination.

And yet here I am opening myself up for discrimination for saying that I identify partly as nonbinary, and partly as cis, because clearly what I want is more discrimination from more assholes so I can hate myself even more (because trust me, I hate myself plenty already). I have, however, gotten all kind of hate and death threats for being cis, so I don’t really see how coming out as something in addition to that is really going to change things.

So how does your identity work then?

My gender works by seeing posts like “if you aren’t [identity] then don’t fucking reblog” and internally going aaaaaah I don’t know what I identify as but I relate to this but they said if I’m not this then don’t reblog so I guess they won’t reblog so they won’t come to my blog and attack me-

Oh, that’s not what you meant.

A simple way to put it would be to say my 3 blogs are all tied to my gender:

On @unorthodoxsavvy I am Savvy, I go by she/her. I am a femmish sapphic who is really into positivity and cottage core and nature core and pastels and Dan and Phil.

On @jim-hawkins-Indiana (yes, it is a Treasure Planet and Stranger Things crossover) I tend to vent and be angry and like horror and blood and gore and scary things and ghosts and demons and cryptids which really ties into me feeling more gender neutral. Patton-pending (Sanders Side joke there for you) I go by “Sav” and they/them if you’re going to refer to me at all but I like to keep that blog more anonymous (and now I have a better understanding of why)

Same with @polyamorouspunk

Are you sure you’re not just a gnc cis person?

Nope. Not at all. I have absolutely no idea what my gender is, just like I have no idea if I’m really “bisexual” because the popular definition of “liking girls and guys” is not how I identify but that’s how people will interoperate it, just like I have no idea if I’m really polyam because sometimes I just like to tell myself I’m faking because I have internalized polyphobia.

Are you a special MOGAI snowflake?

Apparently yes. I haven’t really settled on any labels but some that in theory fit me are terms like demi-gender, demi-cis, demi-girl, demi-nonbinary, bigender, girlflux, situational genderfluid, genderflux, binary nonbinary, nonbinaryflux girl, demigirlby, gender punk/fuck, and probably a whole lot more.

So you think your gender can be sounds and foods and other things?

I think people feel things and that’s their business as long as they aren’t hurting themselves or anyone else. If everyone’s having fun why is it a big deal? The only ones being pissed off are the ones who don’t identify as such. If my or anyone else’s gender upsets you, you’re really the only one who’s loosing here.

Do you expect to loose followers over this?

Oh but of course. It would be foolish to think otherwise. Saying I don’t care about my follow count is a blatant lie, but anyone who chooses to unfollow me because I’m a special MOGAI snowflake who’s also tired of seeing posts about other cis people like me being horrible for something they can’t control who’s also probably a transtrender who’s just faking or whatever even though gender is just a social construct so you can’t really fake something that doesn’t really exist can easily be replaced by someone more to my speed.

There’s something I’d like to say- can I ask you about it/say it on anon?

Of course my ask box is open to anyone, even if it’s to send hate my way. Whatever questions you may have I’d love to answer to the best of my abilities (though I’m not expert, not even on myself) and any shade you have to throw I’ve heard already and clearly hasn’t affected me.

Thank you for sharing Savvy (I’m using Savvy because this is posted to your main blog where you identify as a cis female and not on your other blogs where you identify as somewhat nonbinary)

Why you’re welcome, thank you for reading this far and suffering on my behalf.

Anyway if you want some real LGBT+ positivity go follow @heartfullofrainbowflowers

*-*-*-*-*

Behind the scenes of deciding to post this:

IF YOU INSIST

The one where we pretend that Jason is alive and well and is completely aware of Cheryl's crush on Toni, even if Cheryl herself is not. We're also pretending that the Blossom's and the Cooper's are not related nor do Juniper and Dagwood exist.

As much as Cheryl loved her brother, Jason, he was the embodiment of infuriating.     It started with a smirk. It was the smirk that melted onto his lips whenever he knew something that she did not. Being a twin, many believed that they could read each other's minds and as children the two of them had played along with it. Unfortunately she was clueless as to what was going on in his head.

    Cheryl had been in a foul mood all day. What had once been simply Riverdale High had become Riverdale Hell and it was all because of the serpents and their leather jackets and their stupid snake tattoos and that gorgeous girl with the pink hair and -

    Anyway, the serpents strutted the hallways as though they had every right to be there which, for the record, they do not. Queens like herself do not associate with peasants like them.

    They were everywhere. They roamed every corridor, sat in every classroom and took every seat in the cafeteria. No matter where she went or what direction she turned her head, they were always there. It was as aggravating as Jason's all-knowing smirk. 

    The sight of them alone was enough to make her blood boil.     The sight of that damn girl with her stupid pink hair and her serpents jacket and her cute - no! annoying - smile that was always on display when she was with them ragamuffs. What did a girl like her see in boys like them? The very question made her roll her eyes.

    By the time the final bell rang for the end of the day, she had found Jason, who had been with his girlfriend, Polly, of course, dragged him away from his locker and started her monologue, listing every reason and contribute that lead to her foul mood. 

    Cheryl had many ways of blowing off steam. Usually she just ranted at Jason who would listen, nod and remain silent. She liked that he listened. Most people would interrupt or try to shift Cheryl's feelings as though they had the right to correct her. She knew how she felt. She didn't need some impecile to convince her otherwise.     That's how their afternoon began. An hour had passed since she found him at his locker and she was still angry. They had both decided to sit in her bedroom. He was at the end of her bed while she had her back pressed against the head-boards.     "Terrible, just terrible," he said. His voice was distant as though another thought was clouding his mind. Normally she would snap and tell him to listen but she just wanted to talk regardless of his attention span.     "Do you remember when that sapphic serpent first came to our school, J.J?"     "Sapphic serpent? Who's that again?"     Oh, so he is paying attention, Cheryl thought silently.     "The one with the stupid pink hair and hangs out with the hobo!"     "Oh yeah. Her. I remember."     The smirk widened. For now she would simply ignore it. She was not done with her rant.     It was simple enough. When the southsiders came rolling into the school she had made her grand entrance and firmly put them in place. Warned them that they better not ruin the reputation that Riverdale High had spent decades building. That included the overall 4.0 GPA that she took pride in maintaining.     "Why don't you come over and say that to my face?"     A girl had emerged from the crowd of serpents. She was a petite woman of five foot three with curling pink-streaked hair, dark skin, curved eyebrows and a soft looking face. She was not at all what Cheryl had initially believed a serpent would look like. For starters she believed that the serpents was a boys-only gang. Then there was the softness in both her face and her eyes that her surrounding peers seemed to lack. The boy with the neck tattoo had a bulk figure and eyes that could scorch. He could have passed for one of the Bulldogs if he wore the letterman jacket. But the pink-haired girl was different from him. She bore a fierce yet delicate persona that had Cheryl intrigued.     "Happily, Queen of the Buskers."     Queen? This girl is far from a queen. Attractive, yes - no! - but not a queen in the slightest. Even buskers had some decency.     "Clearly her south-side upbringing caused the lack of basic intelligence to realise that she has made a big mistake talking to me like that," said Cheryl after reciting the scene to him.     "They're not all bad."     Hearing that caused her snap her gaze up at him. He was scrolling through his phone, occassionally tapping his thumb against the screen. Assumingly he was scrolling through Instagram.     "Are you serious?" she asked in a harsh whisper. Most people were accustomed to the loud and snappy way she spoke to those around her. Whenever Jason steered towards her bad side he only receieved the watered down version of it. She took no joy in seeing him flinch.     "Would I lie to you, Cheryl?" he said earnestly.     Shifting, he brought himself a few inches closer. He lay his phone next to his lap. The smirk was till there but his eyes had softened. She both loved and hated how much she trusted him. No one knew her the way that he did. He knew what to say and how to say when it mattered the most.     Cheryl didn't need to be Sherlock to know what most of Riverdale High said about her and Jason. Most thought that her fondness of him was...strange. Those people needed to stop watching Game of Thrones and making assumptions. He just happened to be the one person Cheryl could stand in his Godforsaken town.     "What have those Southside Scum ever done for you?"     "Well," he began. "Sweet Pea - the one with the neck tattoo -"     She couldn't help but laugh. "Sweet Pea? That guy is called Sweet Pea? Is that his real name?"     Jason shrugged. "I dunno. I haven't asked. Anyway, Ms Burkowitz had assigned us to sit next to each other in biology and we started talking. Turns out that we have a lot in common."     "Such as...?"     Not in a million years could Cheryl imagine her brother being friends with someone from the southside, especially someone who called themselves Sweet Pea. What kind of name is Sweet Pea? Surely if he wanted to be a tough gang-member he'd pick a more appropriate name, like, Snake?     "Well, we both like video games. When we learnt that about each other and then we both started talking about our favourite games. He mainly plays all the Batman games - he's a total DC fan - and Arkham Asylum is his favourite. He also happens to be very close with the pink-haired girl..."     "Toni?"     "Ah hah!" said Jason. The smirk was back and bigger than ever. "So you do know her name?"     The need to get defensive suddenly flared within her. "Only because I see her every day and we share classes."     "You see her everyday?"     Cheryl frowned. "Yes. In case you weren't aware, J.J, we're both students at Riverdale High. And that means I'm forced to breath the same air as everyone else, including that sapphic serpent."     "Sapphic serpent, eh? Isn't sapphic a word for, uh, lesbian stuff?"     "Comes from the Greek poet named Sappho, who's poetry all happened to be about her female lovers. God, everyone knows that."     Raising his left eyebrow, he replied, "Do they?"     "Yes."     Reaching for her phone, she typed in her passcode and went onto Instagram. The first thing that came into her feed was a picture of the serpent herself.     Admitting to no one, Cheryl had started following Toni's Instagram three days after their first encounter at Riverdale High. She tried telling herself that she was doing it out of kindess as Toni Topaz (when did Cheryl know her last name?) and that she ought to feel honoured the the Queen Bee wanted to look at her content. But then she started scrolling through her account all the way until she reached Toni's first ever post - which had been a picture of herself, Sweet Pea and a soft-faced boy who seemed to be with them a lot. Her heart had gone into overdrive when she realised that she almost liked it.     The picture on top of her Instagram feed was of Toni, Jughead and Betty. Jughead and Betty were in a sort of sideway embrace, gazing into each other's eyes while Toni was facing the camera with a cheeky smile. The caption below read: "Always third wheeling these lovebirds."     On instinct she double tapped it. When she first followed Toni she had tried avoiding it but at this point she knew that Toni was more than aware that Cheryl followed her on Instagram. She even had the nerve to point it out during class once. They were arguing about something or another - nothing new - when it was brought up.     "Save it, Bombshell - or should I say CherryBombshell. That is your Instagram name, right?"     When people liked Toni tried to smart-mouth her, Cheryl usually had her comebacks piled up like a stack of notes in her mind. However, when her eyes drifted to Toni's lips as each word formed from her mouth, the stack of notes drifted and the only pages she had left were blank. Her mouth gaped open and her cheeks grew hot.     Her immediate thought had been to deny it and then either block her or delete her account entirely. Then she replied with, "I - I don't know what y-you're talking about."     The moment the bell rang she bolted from the classroom. And of course Cheryl had the worst luck and had to return seconds later because she had forgotten her bag. Toni was still there, of course, packing her things away. Though she did not say a word, her eyes and face were very telling. She found Cheryl amusing. She found Toni annoying. Her heart had been stuttering the entire time. For some reason it was as though the notes had been blown away by a fan and suddenly her brain had become scattered. Cheryl prided herself in being put together and having her life in neat tidy boxes. She hated how messy Toni made her.     She didn't realise how long she had been staring at Toni's photo until Jason appeared beside her and nudged her lightly.     "You should ask her out."     Had Cheryl been sipping on a glass of water, she would have spat it out. Instead she gagged and then tried to shift back into her nochalant position.     "Who?"     "How blind do you think I am?" asked Jason.     "It's a debatable answer."     "Regardless of what you think, I have eyes and I see it all. I've seen the way you look at her, and you look at her a lot."     So this is what the smirk is about?     "She's an eye-sore," replied Cheryl a little too quickly.     "If you insist."     She could tell that he didn't believe her. It didn't matter if she did or not. The truth was that Toni Topaz was a sapphic that she wanted nothing to do with....Even if her eyes did linger a second too long or if had fantasised about kissing her and -     Cheryl was ripped from her thoughts when the sound of a ping entered her bedroom. Jason picked up his phone.     "It's Polly," he explained. "She wants to meet at Pop's for shakes. I'll see you later?"     "Sure."     "I'm serious." The geniune softness returned to his eyes. "Ask her out. I know how you look at her, Cheryl, and you should know," he leaned in closer, dropping his voice into a whisper, "her eyes linger on you, too."     And then, as though he had been talking about the weather, got up and left Cheryl's room.

The Art Of Being A Unicorn

“Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t believe for a minute she really wants to fuck women.”

Our first round of drinks arrived five minutes ago and already the conversation is on Candace and her recent induction into the Sapphic Sisterhood. I take a deep gulp of my Riesling. And another. Empty glass in forty-five seconds. Self-preservation in the form of wasted wine.

“It’s just some kind of phase. Maybe she skipped the ‘experimentation’ stage in college and wants a round two. Either way, no way she’s suddenly a dyke.” Kate takes a deep swig from her bottle of Magic Hat, confident she’s made her point. The alcoholic equivalent of dropping the mic.

“It’s just so weird.” Lisa tries to fish the cherry out of her Cosmo with the swizzle stick. She slowly pulls it up the side of the glass, and then loses it, the candy red sphere tumbling back to the little well in the bottom of the martini glass. She purses her lips as she stabs it and then pops it into her mouth. “She’s only dated guys, before. Though, I mean, it’s not like Dana is much of a chick. She’s so...” She trails off, twirling her hand in the air in front of her as she tries to find the word.

“She’s ‘so’ what?” I press, knowing the answer, my tone sounding more frustrated than I planned. The others at the table don’t seem to notice, but out of the corner of my eye I can see Kevin lean his head on his hand, so his face is ‘casually’ pointed my direction.  He raises his eyebrows, his eyes reminding me of my promise to be nice to his friends. I give him my best ‘I know, honey, but I kind of want to stab them in the face right now’ smile in response, my lips almost painfully pressed into a thin, curved line, my eyebrows raised to mock his.

“Oh! Butch! That’s the word I was looking for!” Lisa looks satisfied. She turns toward her husband. “Right?”

Mark shrugs, dipping the complimentary pumpernickel directly into the included ramekin of butter. He scoops the off-white cream onto a corner of the bread, takes a bite, and double dips.

“Maybe she’s bi? Or pan?” I bring out the smile I usually reserve for annoying customers, hoping it will keep my voice even and friendly.

Kate scoffs. “People only say that as an excuse to be sluts.”

“I dunno, Kate. She was cheating on David with Dana before they broke up.” Mark points at Kate with his second piece of bread, his mouth full.

“Bisexual doesn’t mean slutty. And even if it did--“ My voice comes out an octave higher than I’d have liked. The customer service smile is not so much put back in its neat little compartment in my mind, as violently ripped away. Kevin takes in a sharp breath which evolves into a heavy sigh as he leans back in his seat, finding something interesting about the ceiling.

Kate speaks over me. “Yeah but David hadn’t had sex with her in, like, a year. So, that’s kind of his own fault.”

Mark helps himself to another scoop of butter. “You think Dana tricked her, somehow? I mean, like, Candace is lonely, vulnerable, and then this person swoops in and makes her feel desired. Yeah, the parts are different but if you close your eyes, it all feels the same.” He looks up at the rest of us, noticing the sudden silence. “What? It’s only gay if you give.” He pops the last bit of bread into his mouth. “Well, I guess except for butt stuff.”

I eye Kevin’s Captain and ginger ale. The server could come back any time, now. I really should have ordered something stronger than wine.

“Lesbians don’t do ‘butt stuff’, Mark.” Lisa rolls her eyes at her husband. “They use, I dunno, dildos and shit.”

“Cos all ladies really want the D.” Mark’s voice is smooth as he purses his lips in a cocky mockery of seduction, motioning with both hands to his crotch in the universal, ‘suck it’ sign. “Right, Kev?”

Kevin looks away from the lights on the ceiling. “Hmm? I, uh--“

“Oh yeah,” Mark interrupts, giving a slow, knowing nod, “Kevin knows.”

“Look, why--“ I clear my throat and lower my voice as Kevin gives me a light kick under the table. “Why do you care so much about Amanda’s love life? She’s dating a woman, now. So what? I mean I’m--“

“Wow, the salmon looks awesome!” Kevin interjects. He points at an expertly crafted photo of perfectly air brushed pink fish in the menu.

“Dude, you can’t order fish at Outback, that’s just weird.”

“I’m having the chicken.”

“Oh come on, why would you go to a steak place and not get steak?”

“I like chicken.”

“Blasphemers, all of you.”

I leave them to their bickering, reaching across Kevin to snag his drink. I stare at the side of his face as I down it in two chugs. Fuck it.

Later, walking to the car after goodbyes and promising to get together again soons are exchanged, I let out the hot, writhing put of snakes that have been in my stomach most of the evening.

“Dude, what the fuck was that?”

Kevin doesn’t even look at me as he pulls out his keys, pressing the button to unlock the car. His green Camry beeps, the interior lights automatically illuminating the cabin. “What the fuck was what?”

“Cutting me off like that when they were talking about Candace! I know they’re your friends, but they were being fucking assholes.”

He opens the passenger side door, stepping back and waiting patiently for me to sit down and reach for my seatbelt. “Because I knew you were going to play the bi card.”  He pushes my door closed and walks to the driver’s side. His door dings when it opened.

“Excuse me? ‘Bi card’? Are you actually serous right now.”

The overhead light dims into darkness. He shrugs, inserting his key into the ignition. “I just don’t see why my friends need to know that about you.” He turns the key, reaching for the radio volume knob as the CD player come to life. Death Cab for Cutie pours from the speakers. “It’s not like it even counts, right now. You’re with me.” He turns up the volume and puts the car into reverse.

#

“Care to explain this?” Meredith throws the pink and blue notebook onto the black marble coffee table. It slides across the smooth, polished surface, before coming to rest in front of me. Half of it hangs into void between the table and the couch. The 3D yellow flower on the front bounces slightly on its small spring. Meredith glares down at me, the angry lines around her mouth betraying the age her perfect make up tries to hide.

“My journal? You bought it for me for Xmas.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” My dad’s voice holds barely controlled anger. I know that he will end up yelling by the end of this confrontation--he always does. And I will end up matching his volume as my words devolve into rage filled sobs. It’s a very specific script. But for now, he’s holding onto at least a shred of civility.

“I really don’t understand what’s going on right now.”

“What’s going on,” Meredith’s voice drips with patronizing contempt, “Is that you got ‘hot and heavy’ with Hope. What are you, some kind of dyke now?”

Pressure starts to rise in my sinuses. “You read my journal? What right do you have--“

“What right does she have?!” Dad jerks forward in his chair, his face red. “What right do you have?! You don’t own that journal, little girl. It’s under our roof, it is our property.”

“Why is this such a big deal to you?” My throat is tight and my words come out in a strange croak. I am determined not to cry this time. I won’t give her the satisfaction. 

“The big deal,” Meredith’s lips purse in disgust, her coral lipstick fluorescent against her overly tanned skin, “is that it is wrong. And we will not have it under this roof.”

“Technically, I wasn’t under this roof. We were in Derek’s car.” I want to delete the words from existence as soon as they’re out of their mouth.

My dad sighs. I’m impressed with his composure thus far. I expected my inability to keep my mouth under control to spark the shouting portion of tonight’s entertainment.  “You’re not even old enough to have sex with men, how could you possibly know if you want to have sex with women?” It’s the same line he’s given any time I mention my various gay friends.

“I’m sixteen.”

“Exactly.”

“The fact I exist proves that teenagers have sex, Dad.”

“I called her mother.” Meredith interrupts the debate on teenage sexuality to bring us this important breaking news. She crosses her arms over her off-white sweater, smirking.

Panic rises in my throat, followed by the acidic taste of bile. This panic is not for myself. “Are you serious? How could you do that?! Her parents held a freaking laying on of hands at her birthday party! They wouldn’t allow her to attend sex ed! What do you think they’re going to do with her when they find out she likes girls?”

“That is not my problem, but she assured me that this will never be an issue again. And you two are forbidden to see each other.”

There is a low buzzing in my head as my mind fills with a white, blank space. I don’t realize I’ve left the couch until I find myself sitting at my desk in my room. I’m surprised they let me leave without further judgment. I don’t even know if I’m grounded.

 Later that night, long after my dad and stepmom go to bed, I sneak the cordless phone out of the living room, and dial Hope’s cell. It goes directly to voicemail.

The next day an overly polite computer voice informs me that the number has been disconnected.

Hope isn’t in school that Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Then, through the Humphrey High rumor mill, I hear the news.

 “Her parents Baker Acted her!” I shout as I walk through the door leading into the kitchen from the garage. Meredith is at the island putting the finishing touches on a sandwich. She doesn’t bother to look up.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Hope! They lied and said that she’s a danger to herself! She’s in an institution because you told her mother about us! This is your fault!”

Her eyes meet mine, steel wrapped in brown silk. “I will not be spoken to that way by a dyke.”  She takes a bite of her sandwich and places it onto a dark green plate. She carries it out of the kitchen, through the living room, out the sliding glass door, and onto the patio. She sits on the painted white concrete and dips her legs into the clear water of our pool.

#

“So you’re a lesbian?” My mother’s voice is calm and conversational.  I hear her typing through the other end of the phone, multi -tasking between talking to me and participating in an ‘alternate-lifestyle’ chat room. She recently acquired a computer, launching herself into the late 20th century a year past Y2K. Her internet provider is AOL.

“No, mom, I still like guys, too. I guess I’m bi. I actually kind of like this dude in my Chemistry class. He looks like Ethan Embry.”

“I have no idea who that is.”

I sigh, exasperated in that way only teenagers feel when confronted by their parents’ ignorance of the really important things in life. “He’s an actor, mom. He was in Empire Records? Can’t Hardly Wait?”

“You know I’ve never seen these movies.”

“That Thing You Do?”

“Oh! I liked that one! Who was he?”

“The bass player.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, he’s cute.” She pauses. “But you like girls, though.” Back on topic.

I slouch further into the fuzzy blue overstuffed chair in the corner of the den. It’s the ugliest chair that ever uglied but I love every comfy inch of it. It was the only piece of furniture left over from when my parents were married. I have no idea why my dad lugged around for over a decade. I am equally confused as to why Meredith allowed it in the house, as it clashes with everything, even if it is banished to the den, the room company is least likely to see. All I know is that I call dibs when I move out after graduation in a few months. 

“How did your dad and Meredith take it?”

I sigh, my breath causing static into the phone. “Not good.”

“Hmm.” She makes a noncommittal noise and I can tell she is trying to decide to play nice or let me know for the eight thousandth time how she feels about my father and his bride. “You know, I’ve experimented with women.”

My mouth could catch flies. “Wha--really?”

“Mmmhmm.” The keyboard continues to clack in the background. “That one convention I went to, I played with a couple female subs. It was okay. Boobs I could play with all day but anything below that, eh. Not really into vaginas. Dicks are much more fun. Oh, and Allen and I did have a threesome with that Mille girl who used to live next door to us. Remember her? She used to keep an eye on you when you were in middle school?”

I shut my eyes tightly, a sharp pain in my temple. My brain tries to process this outflow of information. The play dates with ladysubs weren’t really a big deal--I’d known about my mom’s kinky lifestyle for a while--but Millie? Beautifully damaged, dramatic, soft haired Millie?

“Y-You had sex with Millie?” I stammer when my mouth decides it can once again form words.

“Yeah. Kind of. Allen was there, too--“

“I had a crush on Millie, mom.” Actually, crush was a loose term. I was infatuated my Millie. I dreamed of Millie. She was the first real life girl I was ever interested in. My confused desires previously focused on beautiful actresses like Lucy Liu and Portia De Rossi, what with Ally McBeal being my queer gateway drug.   

But Millie. There was something special about her. Something wild in the way her life was full of emotional turmoil and passion. She was a walking soap opera and it fascinated me.  She was also the first person I ever smoked weed with, so there was something to be said about my mother’s choice of baby sitters.

My mother laughs. The typing sounds stop. “Really? You liked Millie?” Another laugh cuts off whatever I wasn’t going to say. “Looks like we have the same taste in women.”

“Oh god.”

The typing begins anew.

#

“I’ve seen her play five times.” The woman in front of me has dark hair and is beautiful. The dim lighting of the bar shadows her skin a darker brown and she wears her hair naturally, kinky curls springing from her head in every direction.

“And I thought I was bad!” I give a little self-deprecating snort. “I’ve seen her three times, I think? I try to make sure to get tickets whenever she’s in town. She really must love this venue.”

Arms reach around and above me as women crowd the bar to grab a drink before the end of intermission. Melissa Ferrick is already back on stage on the other side of the club, tuning her guitar and laughing at something her drummer said. The stage lights make her short brown hair look blue.

The woman takes a sip of her martini, her maroon lipstick staining the glass. I didn’t know anyone actually drank martinis. Everyone I know makes due with the cheapest beer they can dig up, and wine either in a magnum or a box. One day my friends will realize that being twenty-one means we are allowed to be choosy. I’m tired of pretending I like the taste of PBR.

“What are you thinking about?” Her lips are a smirk. I didn’t even realize I zoned out, staring at the dark green olive at the bottom of her glass.

“I want to eat your olive.” My answer is honest, but I wish I could take back the words. She raises her eyebrows for a silent second before bursting into laughter. It comes from deep inside of her.

“Is that what you kids are calling it nowadays?”

I’m glad for the bar’s terrible lighting as I feel my face get hot. I take a long swig of my Newcastle.  Oh god, new subject. “I saw Doria Roberts open for her a few years ago. She was just fucking amazing. I just oh man so good.”

She gives me that smirk again and my insides feel squiggly. “I was at that show. Too bad I didn’t see you there, we could have met sooner.”

I can no longer meet her eyes. It’s just too much. “I was with my ex then, anyhow. He was reviewing the show for UCF’s newspaper. Trying to get a music column up and running. “

When I look back up, her eyebrows are furrowed. She pulls her head slightly away from me, looking at me out of almost the corner of her eye. “He?”

I shrug, not sure why she’s asking. “Yeah. Didn’t work out. Still friends, though.”

She shakes her head, sighing as she stands. “Sorry, chica, I learned a loooong time ago not to get involved with straight girls. To0 much drama.”

I spin fully towards her on my bar stool. “But I’m not—dude, I’m bi.”

She scans the crowd closer to the stage, making eye contact with someone and raising her hand in the ‘one minute’ sign. “Oh honey,” she says as she picks up her drink. She continues smiling at the woman in the crowd, not bothering to look back at me. “If you’re still calling yourself bi at your age, you’re straight. Sorry to let you know.”

She walks away, weaving through the crowd of bodies towards the front of the stage. Melissa Ferrick readjusts her mic, her black guitar reflecting the shadows of her fans. There’s a squeal of feedback. Everyone laughs.

#

“I’ve liked you since high school, I just needed to see what it was like.” Jane’s fair cheeks are red as she confesses, looking from me, to her hands, to the TV showing the DVD menu for Moulin Rouge. My lips are still tingling from the kiss she surprised me with a few seconds before.

“I--“ Ugh, I’ve never had to do this, before. “Look, Jane, I’m flattered and you know I love you, but not really like that. I just don’t—“

“It’s ‘cause you’re still in love with Ray, isn’t it?” She rolls her eyes, flinging herself against the back cushions of the couch with more force than I thought her tiny frame could muster. She blows an errant lock of blond hair out of her eyes.

“No, that’s not—“

“I liked you better when you were a lesbian.” She reaches for the remote.

#

“What is with you, today?” Kevin hurries to catch up with me as I hurry to keep myself a few steps ahead of him. I should have known better than to come to Pride. This was a stupid idea.

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” I maneuver around a pretty girl with a pink crew-cut. Her t-shirt informs me that linguists do it with tongues.

I feel a tug on my arm and stop as Kevin uses it to hold me in place while he closes the last few feet between us. “No. I know what okay looks like and this is not okay. This is acting weird. What is going on?”

I gently pull my arm from his grasp and run my hand through my pixie cut. “I just--“ I pause to find the words. “I feel weird. Here.” I look down at the sidewalk. A fried and shriveled earth worm is stuck to the concrete.  “With you.”

“What?” He sounds more hurt than angry. Damn it.

“It’s not really about you, I just feel like--” I shrug, looking up to scan the tops of the surrounding buildings.  I never noticed that there was molding up there. Lion heads. Clichéd.  “I feel like I’m an imposter. That I don’t belong here because I’m with a guy. Okay?”

He scrunches his nose and scoffs. “That’s stupid.”

“What?”

“No one cares that you’re here with a guy. No one is judging you for not being gay enough, okay? Everyone’s been enjoying the parade and the free candy. No one has even noticed. You’re being paranoid.”

I take a deep breath to keep myself from screaming. He doesn’t understand. He didn’t see the raised eyebrow the dreadlocked woman next to us gave when he caught one of the handfuls of condoms that were thrown into the crowd by muscled men in silver shorts. When he gave me a nudge with his elbow, saying “This’ll come in handy tonight!” with a wink. He didn’t see the man in front of us turn to look, pursing his purple stained lips, as Kevin stated with surprise that he didn’t realize the Polar Bear Club supported gay rights. The man rolled his eyes as I explained in a hurried whisper what the term ‘Bear’ referred to, and no, it didn’t mean they liked to jump into freezing cold rivers. He stood out in his black t-shirt amid the sea of rainbows. And it made me stand out beside him.

I slowly let out the breath I’ve been holding and take his hand. There’s no use in arguing. “You may be right. I’m just being insecure.”

We walk a few blocks, taking in the colorful crowd that surrounds us.

“Kev?” A voice from across the street stops our stroll. Candace waves, making her way through the crowd, Dana holding onto her hand protectively.

Kevin waves back and we meet in the middle of the sea of people. Hugs and "oh man how’s it been, haven’t seen you in forever"'s are exchanged.

“Wow, you’re the last people I thought I’d run into here.” Candace states, laughing.

Kevin returns the laughter, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t usually see a lot of straight couples at Pride.”

Jenna Swisher's work has appeared in Chatham University's literary magazine, Minor Bird, as well as Daikaijuzine, The Battered Suitcase, and Beyond Imagination. She lives in Pittsburgh with her boyfriend and their five cats.