#albeit most of their mothers are probably misogynistic too but I doubt to this degree as I feel like even the most sexist of women

[womendeservehumanity]

When will women wake up? When will they stop with the incessant coping? That it’s just a few bad apples that hate women. The vast majority of men vehemently hate women. They show it both on and offline. More overtly online though. And the amount of likes for all of these posts (all of which are from gimmick accounts with 10-100k+ followers dedicated to hating women) shows that. Men do not see us as human beings. Straight men’s interest and attraction to women starts and end with sexual gratification. And there’s no reason to even explain this to other women as if it’s some hidden truth. They will literally tell you. They will get online and tell you they aren’t emotionally and romantically interested in women. That the concept of actually caring for and loving a woman is foreign to them. That you’re a sex doll and a set of holes to them.

Like who needs feminist theory to dissect all the ways in which misogyny manifests when it seems men are doing everything in their power to show women how much they fucking collectively hate us. Even blatantly regarding us as holes and sex dolls.

Also find it so interesting that these are tweets with millions of views but so called progressive twitter NEVER sees them or condemns them and instead opt to give attention to some random radfem with 300 followers saying men bad. THATS what’s a pressing issue to them. THATS proof that misandry is as prevalent and troublesome as misogyny meanwhile this is what women are subjected to.

[foxofthedesert]

WickedKansas scene

I mentioned in the notes on AO3 for my story, the Author of Fate, that I might do an appendix of sorts with various scenes I’d planned to include but decided not to in the interest of finishing the damn thing.  This is one of those.  Blame my love of Bex for this.  Also my belief that Zelena and Dorothy would have been infinitely more believable than Ruby and Dorothy.

Anyway, if that is on interest, click below!

“So, this is it,” Zelena said as she carried the last of Dorothy’s things into the farmhouse. 

Francesca was occupying her lover’s arms, so she’d went out to fetch the box from her green station wagon.  For a woman born to this world of wonders, Dorothy did not put much stock in material possessions.  Her earthly belongings added up to two large boxes of trinkets and two medium sized suitcases that were mostly stuffed with clothing.  That austerity could have somewhat to do with the environment in which she was reared, though.  Her recently deceased Auntie Em and Uncle Henry were simple folk of the field who preferred hard work and long days toiling under a merciless sun to the dreary, soulless monotony of working from a cubicle.  Like Zelena, they were more comfortable in a lightly stocked, rustic farmhouse than an ornate monument to wealth and modernity such as Regina’s. 

Her baby sister’s ridiculous privilege was one of the main reasons for Zelena’s irrational, zealous envy.  In retrospect, she can so how ridiculous she was being.  Just because Regina grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth and the world at her fingertips did not mean she was better off.  Quite the opposite, actually, at least up until Zelena’s mother died.  Before then, though, she’d been happy because her mother loved her and lavished every last drop of affection upon her, something Regina has told her more than once she would have traded all of her fancy clothes and lavish feasts and ornate jewelry for.  Without a heart, Cora couldn’t even love herself.

Still, plain origins had a way of sticking to a person long after they wrested themselves from the muck of peasantry.  A pig with lipstick is still a pig.  Storybrooke’s comforts could not change Zelena. She was still a farm girl at heart, and so was Dorothy.  Perhaps that why they worked so well, to everyone’s surprise, including theirs. Except Francesca, who seemed to view their relationship as the most natural development in history.   

“Dory!  Dory!  You promised a bear hug!” the girl had said upon spotting Dorothy waiting for them to pick her up outside the B&B.  She’d squirmed herself free of the seat belt and bolted out of the car straight into Dorothy’s arms before Zelena could even blink an eye. Not that she was cross.  Honestly, if Dorothy hadn’t melted at the sound of that sweet voice calling out for her, Zelena certainly would have.  Even if they weren’t directed at her, she could hardly resist her daughter’s heartfelt pleas. 

It was still a strange feeling sharing her daughter’s affection.  She hadn’t liked it at all in the beginning.  Not one bit.  Once she found out she was pregnant, she’d realized that at long last she would finally have someone to love who wouldn’t betray her or judge her, someone she could invest her heart in without fear of it being destroyed.  It wasn’t easy to let someone else butt in to that special connection.  But Dorothy was just so damn good with Francesca and so damn patient with her mother that Zelena could not cling indefinitely to her petty jealousy.  Before long, she had learned to appreciate the bond developing between her girlfriend and her daughter.  Regina had said it would be that way, that it was how she’d experienced Ruby becoming part of Henry’s world.  Right or not, though, Zelena wasn’t about to give her sister any unsolicited credit as it was her job as the elder sibling to keep Baby Sis’s overly developed ego in check.

So that Frankie could give Dorothy the grand – albeit unnecessary since Dorothy had spent the night rather frequently when visiting from Oz – tour, Zelena busied herself fetching the last box of Dorothy’s things.  As she lugged it up the stairs of the front porch and placed it next to the luggage containers holding Dorothy’s clothes, she prayed under her breath to encounter precisely zero items of the gingham variety as they went about unpacking.  What the woman saw in those hideous dresses baffled Zelena to the nth degree. Besides the way they made her pretty eyes pop.  And how they made Dorothy look when she braided her hair into pigtails cinched with those girly red ribbons she so favored.  Well.  Maybe she could see the appeal after all.  

Not wanting to intrude too soon, she lingered as long as she could before the bitter chill forced her hand.  A cold front was moving through Maine.  Apparently, according to the local Almanacs, it was going to be a long, frigid winter with lots of snow.  Joy. 

Desperate for the warmth of a fire, Zelena opened the front door and grabbed the suitcases.  Upon ambling over the threshold, announcement on her lips, she stopped short.  Dorothy was still holding Frankie in her arms, though the child had passed out cold, her head nestled safely in the crook of Dorothy’s shoulder.  Dorothy was gently swaying back and forth, humming a tune Zelena thought sounded a lot like “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” as she gazed at the sleeping child in her arms, utterly and hopelessly in love.  Zelena knew that last part because it was how felt when she looked at Frankie.

Her breath hitched as she broke the silence.  “I’d say now is the time to speak up if you’re having any doubts, but I think I’d be wasting my oxygen.”

Dorothy hummed, then directed her adoring gaze to Zelena.  “You sure would. But just in case you’re worried, I’m not having any.  I’m more sure of this than I’ve been about anything in a long time.”

“Even though I’m part of the package?”  Zelena bit her lip the second the question passed her lips.  All these years later, she still had trouble accepting she was worth loving.  Her father’s voice still rang loud in her head at a times.  Like right now, when she could hear him telling her how she’d corrupt Dorothy with her filthy magic just like she had her mother.

“Especially since you’re part of the package,” Dorothy said, brows furrowed worriedly.  As if sensing Zelena’s disquiet, she shuffled across the empty space to take a place as close to Zelena as Frankie’s limp form would allow.  “Since Auntie Em and Uncle Henry passed a few years back, I’ve been listless and unhappy.  I had no family left until you and Frankie came into the picture.  Now that I’ve got you guys, I’m not ever letting go.”

Zelena smiled through watery eyes as she reached to brush a hand over her daughter’s hair and then carried it upward to caress her lover’s cheek.  “I’ll hold you to that, Dorothy Gale.”

Dorothy’s answer smile was blinding.  “I’m counting on it, Zelena Mills.”

Careful not to disturb the sleeping angel between them, Zelena leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon upturned lips that eagerly accepted her offering.  They were exactly the same height, down to the centimeter, so it wasn’t awkward when Dorothy shifted slightly, changed up the angle, and the light pressure became a devouring flame. 

Oh, how Zelena loved a good snog with her all-American beauty.  Being herself a self-styled English rose, as that’s exactly what would be if she’d been born in this world, she sometimes felt a special thrill having bagged herself a red-blooded Yank.  The feeling reminded her of the black and white movies she so loved that came out of Hollywood from the period surrounding the Second World War.  She had seen just about all of them, from everyone’s period staple, the classic Casablanca, to Ronnie Reagan’s John Loves Mary to Jimmy Stewart’s Come Live With Me.  There was something terribly romantic about the period, even if the films could be blatantly misogynistic to a degree that almost took her out of the atmosphere.  Almost.  That impossible draw to someone from a place so far away was just something that always fascinated her. 

Other than Emma, and sometimes Walsh, Zelena thought Americans were insufferable.  She felt confident in that assessment from their pop culture alone.  If she’d had the choice, she would have picked someone more exotic and sophisticated for herself, maybe a Persian mathematician, an Egyptian doctor, or an Argentinean poet.  She certainly wouldn’t have chosen a University of Kansas graduate who loved American football and Elvis Presley and apple pie, and was generally speaking a living, breathing example of bloody Americana. And that’s exactly what Dorothy was, what with her manifest destiny gait, shock-n-awe body, and those large-and-in-charge eyes that practically screamed “The Star Spangled Banner.” 

But by God if she wasn’t the most beautiful thing Zelena ever saw and the most delicious morsel she’d ever tasted.  She’d play the Pacific northwest any day for the mounting of a good ole fashioned expedition if it made her overconfident, swaggering, braggadocious imperialist happy.  Such as now.  Making out like a couple of horny teenagers in the living room with a sleeping child tucked between them. 

When the amorous spell broke and they separated, both were grinning like idiots.  Lest she succumb to sap on a disgusting level such as Regina and Ruby often inhabited, Zelena cleared her throat and gestured to the luggage just behind her.

“So...where do you want those?  You can put that little dumpling to bed while I deposit them for you.”

Dorothy’s expression turned sultry so fast Zelena had to clench her legs together.  She pointed to the suitcase on the right. 

“That one will probably go to your room considering it has my underwear and sexy stuff in it,” she said, then gave a saucy wink.

Cheeks flaming, Zelena held up a hand.  “Say no more.  I’ll put it on my bed.”  She paused, eyes flashing with realizing accompanied by a bone-deep satisfaction.  “Strike that.  Our bed.  Mmm. I quite like the sound of that.  Our bed.”

“I like it, too.  A lot,” said Dorothy.  That sultry gaze got positively filthy.  Is it hot in here? Zelena thought, holding back the urge to fan herself.  “Maybe later on,” Dorothy added, “I can slip on something...special out of that box and you can show me some nifty magic tricks.”

The innuendo was clear enough.  Electricity shot through Zelena’s veins.  Nostrils flaring, she sucked in a harsh breath. 

“Now, now, my little blue-eyed tornado,” she said, “didn’t anyone ever tell you that teasing is rude?”

In response, Dorothy gave her a slow leer.  “It’s not rude, my setting sun, if I intend to make it all up to you.  Which I do.  For hours.”

Zelena shivered, already eager for night to fall if only to get her hands on Dorothy’s incredibly toned body.  “I can hardly wait, darling.” Reality, she would soon enough rediscover, more than measured up to the anticipation.