#butch writer

[dontforgetaboutgeorgie]

a small excerpt from my most recent love story. a tender take on butch4femme love

[butchboarwrites]

31.1.24 prompt response

says it all on the tin! sci-fi | 1333 words | tw: swearing, casual discussion of mental illnesses.

“This is, uh, Mission Control to ByoRax Carrier 405LR. Please confirm you are receiving us.”

Even though she was hearing it through the grainy crackle of space radio-comms, the sound of another human’s voice made Halide close her eyes in contentment. She savoured the way it rose and fell, the deep tenor of the man’s voice, the hesitant, almost fearful emotion –

Her eyes opened again. 

“This is ByoRax Carrier 405LR, receiving you loud and clear. Confirming the craft is ready for reentry, permission granted?”

Fuzz greeted her through the speakers. Halide let one moment go by, then another, before –

“Permission denied.”

Halide froze, hand hovering over the space-comm button. Denied? Denied? Was this some sort of…twisted joke? Lone astronaut comes back from 32-month long mission, see how long it takes for her to break down crying, begging for reentry to Earth?

“Is…is there a reason why?” No answer. Hesitantly, she added, “sir?”

Before her, the beautiful, blue horizon of Earth spanned the length of the reinforced glass window. The nose of the carrier pointed gently downwards, ready to begin its molton-fast descent towards home, towards humans and trees and cats that weren’t just mechanical replacements meant to appease her strained mind. Before the mission, Halide had been scanned extensively, put through years of rigorous testing to ensure she wasn’t susceptible to harmful mental illness, or muscle decay; prepping her with binders and binders of therapists wet-dreams - meditation regimes, yoga classes, journaling strategies. She had been prepared for the months of loneliness. More than prepared, really - if anything, she was overqualified to be lonely. But there was a difference between being lonely, and being alone. Once can be lonely on Earth. 

In space however, it was  literally just - her . It’s not just feeling empty, or like it’s only her fending for herself - it’s that physically, for incomprehensible miles, it’s simply…Halide, breathing recycled air. Looking out at the blackness of space, and the occasional asteroid or exo-planet, or star. 

Halide, her mechanical cat, and her imaginary friend.

“Can we confirm this is Commander Astronaut Halide Christopherson speaking?”

Halide licked her lips, and pressed the button. A slick, shimmery shadow glided across the interior reflection on the window ahead. 

“Yes, this is Commander Halide speaking. There is only Commander Halide, or have you forgotten this was a solo mission, Control?” Although she tried to inject lightness in her voice, it fell flat, vowels and consonants cracking on her tongue. She’d never forgotten how to speak - too afraid to lose the musical lilt of her accent, she had spoken every day into the recorder provided to her. But faced with a real human being, someone who was speaking back - she fell on the back foot.

“Commander, we’re detecting another life form onboard Carrier 405LR; repeat, we are detecting another life form onboard Carrier 405LR. This is a CODE UMBER. Initiating protocol –”

White fuzz crowded out the frantic voice of the man in Mission Control. It felt like liquid ice was creeping through her veins. Another lifeform. Another lifeform. Another life form, another lifeform, anotherlifeform– 

Halide turned around. Jami stood in the open hatchway to controls, filling up the space like it always did - hazily, almost flickering around the edges. Blues and purples spread around its skin, dizzying her. She’d been delusional. That was all it was meant to be. An imaginary friend come to life, driven by psychosis and the pressing cold indifference of space pouring in through every window and crack of the carrier. Jami’s appearance had frightened her, and it had almost seemed frightened by her, too. But the more Halide talked to it, pouring out her fears and feelings, all the data she’d retrieved that day and the intangible things she missed about a living home, the more it had gotten…clearer. Eventually, it had come to curl around her, like a weird pet. All soft, plasma-like skin, and fluctuating colours. She had started to sing it songs, for fucks sake, and taken comfort in the fact that at least when she got home there would be drugs that could help her - even if it meant no more space missions. She’d grown to almost hate the sucking darkness of space, anyway. 32 months was enough.

It was all enough. 

Another life form.

“No,” she said. The cold metal of the control desk pressed harder into Halide’s legs. “No, I – you aren’t meant to exist. They said the planet was dead, I never – I never saw fucking nothing, all those months I tracked that planet.” 

Jami stepped towards her, its head cocking to the side in confusion. The hard radio-comms button gave way under Halide’s finger.

“Jesus, stop. Don’t - you aren’t meant to be real.” Desperation tasted like metal on Halide’s tongue, and still Jami stepped closer. Like it had learned to do, like Halide had taught it, it bowed down, shrinking, until it fit under her chin. The cool flesh gave way slightly, like rotten fruit. Halide had always wondered just how bad she had gotten that she was imagining the feel of flesh against her. She was fucking deluded, to have so easily accepted its companionship. So wretchedly desolate. A mechanical cat can only do so much. 

“Mission Control, please, please. It’s just…it’s just my imaginary friend. Please. I didn’t know, how could I know?”

The silence on the other end made Halide frantic, but she couldn’t move. The heavier she breathed the more the alien pressed against her, contented, like it had been for so many months. Her heartbeat thrummed in the hollow of her throat, clawing its way up to her mouth like a hard brick. Eventually, she let go of the space-comms button. Whatever CODE UMBER was, it was non-communicative. The slide down to the ground was slow, tortuous. Every inch of the way, the alien - her friend, her pet - followed her, pushing and pulling its mass like the play dough she had as a child. 32 months ago, she would have found this fascinating. An alien - proof, at last, that the human race are not alone. But as it was, it just felt like she was dreaming. As if she was living in unreality; her world - this little carrier, her cat and her friend - crashing around Halide. 

The distant alarm of the airlock unlatching was dim in her ears. Against her, the alien suddenly went rigid, in a way Halide had never witnessed. No longer rotten fruit, its skin was hard - like treated wood. The pounding thump of military boots didn’t reassure her either - Halide felt removed from the world, like everything was witnessed through a dreamy film. This wasn’t how this was meant to go, none of it fucking was. She was meant to be welcomed home, lauded for her efforts, handed platters of fresh fruit and given seeds to sow –

Dark navy forms crowded in the hatch to controls. Halide closed her eyes. 

* VOICE LOG #419.

Commander Halide Christopherson, ByoRax Carrier 405LR. 

I think I’ve gone insane. All that training, for nothing Jami. I mean, I knew things were going a little rough when I made you up but – I never thought I’d go so far as to see you. You look weird too. I thought you’d be human not…a weird alien, I guess? Looking at you makes my eyes hurt, and you’re so…skittish. I can’t believe my mind can’t even give me a delusion who wants to see me. I didn;t even collect any data on that fucking planet, I’m too focused on trying to catch a glimpse of you for more than 3 seconds. Like, if my mind is going off the rails I’d rather get to actually witness you Jami, instead of just go fucking ghost-chasing. That’s what it feels like anyway. God, I’m never seeing the inside of a spaceship again after this, am I? The higher ups' worst nightmare. Gonna have to pay for my medication for years when I get back. Better enjoy my uniform while – hey! Get back here! Jesus - – 

[dyke-husband]

Letterpress print on black linen cloth. 24point clearface heavy. This took 4 hours to set the type btw.

Text reads: “I fantasize about a dildo with nerve endings. I type "how to fuck a partner with my clitoris" into the search bar. The results are articles & reddit posts with tips for helping your boyfriend find your clit. I realy think str8 folks should have to search through dozens of search results about Dyke sex before finding whatever they were actually looking for. Anyway. I imagine pulling my leather harness over my hips, the black silicone connecting just above my clit. They kiss me and trace the scars on my chest. They let me touch them & they touch my silicone, they guide me inside of them. I'm not sure what this would feel like, A dildo with nerve endings does not yet exist. But I know it would be as close to heaven as i'll get.”

[peppermintflowers]

hrrm what if i start posting my flash fiction and documenting my writing again as i did back in the day ? is this the platform to do it on since i have very few followers and it will be like speaking into the void for the purpose of catharsis?

[forthelostones]

as someone who receives pleasure mostly from pleasuring my partner i really need a woman to make me wait. make me exercise great restraint and patience. grind on me and hold my hands away from your body. kiss me with my hands tied up and tease me with your mouth. bring your breasts to my lips and let them hover, pulling away at the last minute, leaving me flustered. give me the space to crave you more and more. because the reward will be glorious and delicious. the negative part of this whole situation isn’t the waiting it’ll be my inability to stop.

[maetheacolyte]

Hi local chronically ill bisexual butch here! My parents are divorcing and my father is probably going to disown me and my sister who is too disabled to work. I truly don't know what to do anymore. I'm chronically ill+exhausted and still unemployed there is no way for me to help her financially without any mutual 4id pls boost this if u can. The survival fund is going mostly towards bills, medication, doctor visits etc. I'm so so tired its indescribable I've been crowdfunding on and on for years and I never my make my bigger goals.

If I did even once me and my sister would have been set for a while and I would be able to live stress free. I can't take this anymore from long covid fucking me up to her becoming disabled because of medical negligence to my abusive parents to struggling to move away to having to drop out after one semester because I got permanent cardiological issues after covid to always being rejected from jobs I can't take it I can't I'm losing my mind. these were truly horrible four years. I'm sorry for being annoying I don't see any other way anymore so I'm going to keep posting about this. Please share or dnate I'm begging you.

Also I know it says on my k0fi I'm at 17% but Im not most of that money was used a while ago this is where I'm at rn

250/6000€

[sluttynfemme]

butch who picks me up, buys me coffee, and takes me on a shopping trip. i spend as much as i want on whatever i want and in return all my butch wants is a show. i pose for him in each dressing room and pretend i don’t notice he’s hard packing. just make a show of wiggling my ass into tight jeans and brushing my hair over my shoulder so he gets a rush of my perfume in the small space.

when he takes me home, he follows me up to my apartment and that’s when i decide to make my appreciation known. i show him each of my outfits and accessories, sample my perfumes, model my lingerie. when i’m done, i tell him to pick his favorite one. that’s the one i wear when i drop to my knees and pull his strap out of his pants.

a butch who buys me whatever i want just so i can blow him in it 😇

𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[darthteeth]

HOW TO(KILL YOURSELF) PERFORM DIVINE FEMININITY-nina andrej

transcript:

HOW CAN I BE A GOOD TRAD WIFE?BECOME THAT GIRL A WOMAN WHO PRIORITIZE WELLNESS, PRODUCTIVITY, BEAUTY AND MINDFULNESS 20 WAYS TO LOSE TEN POUNDS!FACIAL HAIR REMOVAL GUIDE BEGINNER FRIENDLY 

WAYS TO TAP INTO YOUR DIVINE FEMININE AND YOUR TRUE GODDESS SELF WAYS TO KILL YOURSELF!HOW TO KILL YOURSELF HAVE YOU CONSIDER THAT THE ANSWER LIES IN THE AFTERLIFE?HOW TO KILL YOURSELF KILL HOW TO PERFORM DIVINE FEMININTY HOW TO PERFORM  FEMININTY FEMININTY?HOW TO PERFOM

how to perform blasphemous masculinity:

step 1)get a knife

step 2)realize you have your mother's teeth but your father's bite

step 3)patricide 

step 4)get a bigger knife

step 5)try to use it 

step 6)fail

step 7)try again

step 8)become friends with addicts they are your brothers in arms(not optional)

step 9)become an addict yourself(optional)

step 10)wear the stupidest thing you can find

step 11)don't shave

step 12)shave your head

step 13)find god

step 14)lose god

step 15)get heavy boots.you will never outrun them,you will never outfight but you can always break their fucking noses

step 16)fuck everything that moves

step 17)wear a mask 

step 18)wear a fucking condom

step 19)matricide(optional)

step 20)become lightweight

step 21)find salivation in her body 

step 22)give away your last dinar 

step 23)ask for someone's last cigarette 

step 24)always have a lighter on you

step 25)curse your grandfather's existence 

step 26)find a new god

step 27)build yourself new saints 

step 28)realize your father is all bark and no bite

step 29)kill yourself to build yourself

step 30)get an ax and with your shaky hands kill your father,kill your grandfather,kill your great grandfather,kill your bloodline,for we are not mere men we are writers we are faggots we are great whores we are cunts and bitches we are vultures we do not deal with fiction of fathers we deal with the naked truth we do not deal with honorable masculinity,we are all bite and no bark,

now take the hand that fed you nothing but scraps all your life and bite it off 

[lunarian-hare]

Butch!Logan is perfectly aware of the fact that you can protect yourself. She’s seen you fight countless times, knows you manage to stand your ground pretty well and doesn’t intervene unless you really do need help — it’s an unspoken rule in your relationship (no matter which stage it’s at), she will never treat you as a kid and the last thing she wants is to make you feel like she does not have faith in what you can do.

However, Logan still does get protective, perhaps even unconsciously. If you’re in a car or in the jet, her arm will be shielding your chest as soon as you come across a bump or the vehicle makes a sudden turn (and keep in mind, seatbelts exist. Is the gesture still appreciated? Of course).

During a fight she quickly glances at you to see how you’re doing, and she will pierce anyone who tries to surprise you from behind or from a hidden place like a skewer. You’re left wondering who trained those people if they can’t even manage to make a sneak attack.

Logan will scare off anyone who dares get too close to you if they do not seem to have good intentions, and even if you know how to respond to creeps — and throw a punch straight to their jaw if they do not back off after a couple warnings — her icy glare seems to have the same effect as Cyclops’ optic blasts.

In conclusion, Logan trusts and respects you and lets you do your thing, but you can still benefit from a scary dog privilege once in a while. And you kind of like that.

[that-butch-archivist]

source: The Little Butch Book by Lesléa Newman

[hard--headed--woman]

Sooo you're used to it by now, here's my 4th special pride post, and today we're going to talk about

Marguerite Radclyffe-Hall !

Marguerite was born in 1880 and died in 1943. She was a British poet and writer, author of "The Well of Loneliness", a revolutionary and very important novel in lesbian literature. She never tried to hide her homosexuality.

Neglected by her parents as a child, she studied at King's College London, then in Germany. She reached adulthood without a vocation, and spent a big part of her twenties in a series of relationships with women who later left her to marry.

In 1907, at the spa town of Bad Homburg in Germany, Marguerite met Mabel Batten, a lieder singer nicknamed Ladye, and the two fell in love. Batten was 51 at the time, with a husband, grown-up daughter and grandchildren. Hall was 27.

The two move in together when Mabel's husband dies. At the time, Marguerite was known for her "masculine" appearance and constant wearing of "masculine" clothes; Mabel Batten nicknamed her "John", a nickname she kept all her life.

In 1915, Radclyffe-Hall fell in love with Una Troubridge, a cousin of Mabel's whom she had known for 10 years. Battel died the following year, and in 1917, the two women moved in together. The two lived together until Hall's death, despite Hall's many affairs (that Troubridge painfully tolerated).

She has written eight novels and several poems.

Her first novel, "The Unit lamp", (1924) tells the story of a young girl who dreams of moving into a London apartment with her friend Elizabeth (a so-called "Boston marriage") and studying to become a doctor, but feels trapped by her emotionally-dependent, manipulative mother.

The novel's length and complexity made it difficult to sell, so Marguerite chose a lighter theme for her next novel, a social comedy : "The Forge". The book was quite successful this time.

Her next two novels were a great success, especially "Adam's Breed" (1926), which won the Prix Femina and the James Tait Black Award, something that had only been achieved once before.

But her best-known novel is "The Well of Loneliness". Published in 1928, it tells the story of a butch lesbian, from her childhood in England to her stay in Paris, where she becomes a famous writer. The novel was the subject of an obscenity trial in the UK (despite not being sexually explicit), resulting in the destruction of all copies. The USA authorized its publication after a long, long legal battle. Considered a classic, an extremely important work of lesbian literature, "The Well of Loneliness" was 7th on Publishing Triangle's 1999 list of the best gay novels.

In 1930, Hall won the gold medal of the Eichelbergher Humane Award. She was a member of the PEN club, the Council of the Society for Psychical and a member of the Zoological Society of London.

She died of colon cancer in 1943, aged 63. Her impact on literature, and lesbian literature in particular, remains significant to this day.

You can find the list of her novels (and more details about her life) here !

And some of her poems here :

Hope you enjoyed, and see you tomorrow for the 5th post!

[nat-20s]

Tenth Doctor's gender with Rose: Alison bechdel gender

Tenth Doctor's gender with Martha: wretched little man

Tenth Doctor's gender with Donna: pronouns are the/bit

[butchboarwrites]

30.1.24 Prompt - 'vampire hobbies'

Two vampires clash over resources for incredibly niche & rather silly hobbies! | 990~ words | tw: mild swearing

When Rallan started delving into niche hobbies, it never crossed her mind how frustratingly difficult resources would be to get a hold of. Wicken Webs was a godsend of a bookshop, seemingly stocking the most random of books, but even Sinead couldn’t find multiples of every book. Which made instances like this all the more unfortunate.

“Hello.” Rallan didn’t take her eyes off the book - or the other hand holding the bottom of its spine. It was pale, with knobbled knuckles and dark stains in the creases. “I…think you’ll find that I was here first. Sorry. You know how it is.”

The sound of the bookshop pressed against her ears in the aftermath of her statement. Rallan shifted her weight from foot to foot. A small, irritating ache was forming in the middle of her shoulders from the protective hunch she’d taken over the bookcase. A bit like a child, Rallan thought ruefully. As the silence dragged on, Rallan slowly straightened up and glanced to her left as discreetly as she could manage.

The woman beside her was tall, more so than her, and slender; her hand an accurate appetiser to the rest of her as the woman was entirely composed of sharp, angular joints. Her sallow skin contrasted sharply against the deep carob hair that came to an abrupt end at her chin. Random - ink?- splotches dotted her face, concentrated around the woman’s temples and chin.

Importantly, the woman did not look pleased. Her eyes were flinty as she stared Rallan down, mouth drawn in a tight purse.

“And I’ll think you’ll find that I was first.”

“Well,” Rallan started. “That’s - unfortunate.”

“Highly.” The woman tightened her grip on the spine of the book. “What need do you even have for this book? You don’t look like a woman who knows even the slightest thing about wood pulping.”

“Rude!” Rallan clamped her mouth shut. Had that been her? It had been her. There was no going back now - a queasy flush went through her body before she straightened up her shoulders properly. With proper posture the height difference - perhaps only a few inches.

“I create artisan parchment - not that you know the slightest thing about me, actually? You don’t even know my name, why are – why do you want this book?”

The woman tilted her chin up, eyes to the ceiling. Her posture relaxed as Rallan spluttered in indignation, shoulders slumping slightly and hip cocking out to the side until she resembled a fat cat who got the cream - indulgent, withdrawn but lazily alert for more.

“I restore stamps. I trust you know what those are? It’s a rather delicate artform and requires…” The woman’s chin drooped back down, dark hazel eyes meeting Rallans. Rallan couldn’t tell if the inky blue smudges under her eyes were ink, or tiredness. “...patience. Composure. A steady, and talented hand that requires years to cultivate and the highest quality of resources.”

The book slipped out of the shelf, Rallan’s hand knocked carelessly aside.

“Resources such as this lovely little text.”

Rallan blinked in incomprehension at the now empty shelf. She scrambled forward a step, ignoring the dull ache in her head as it knocked against the bookcase, and started shuffling books in and out, side to side on the shelf. Nothing. Not a single other book on wood pulping, not even something more inferior in academic quality, or a second copy of the one the other woman was now lazily flicking through. She honestly couldn’t believe the audacity. To be so dismissive, and then to just take it from her hand, flicking her away like some little..fly? Rallan wasn’t so young, to be dismissed so easily.

“God,” Rallan hissed. “What the fuck is your problem? Why are you so fucking – condescening?”

She reached out to grab the book, hand curling around the top, but found that she couldn’t budge it from the other woman’s grasp. It was as if the book had been welded to the woman’s palm. No matter how desperately she tugged - and Rallan was growing desperate, the initial surge of anger and frustration rapidly simmering into mortification - the other woman had a grip of steel.

Hot tears threatened Rallan before she blinked once, hard, and let go of the book. It had only been 80 years since her turning. Her strength still waned. It felt silly in hindsight, but Rallan should have noticed the signs on the other woman too - the sallow skin, steel-like confidence, speed, strength - but more tellingly, the utterly niche interest.

“Look,” the woman said. False sympathy dripped off her words like icy drops down Rallan’s back. “There was no need to cause such an unruly show. I’m restoring a stamp from Wales. 1800’s. It’s incredibly delicate work and I require this book in order to determine what wood pulp I need to replicate the original paper. But, I won’t need it forever.”

She smiled at Rallan, and it curled up her mouth slowly, like her muscles needed to remember how to make the movement look right. It still didn’t. Vampires this clearly old were rare, and it was just Rallan’s fucking luck she’d ran into one whose hobby crossed over with hers.

“Take my address,” a worn hand disappeared into a coat pocket, before reappearing with a glossy card. Rallan took it reluctantly, absently thumbing the embossed lettering. If she could glare any more sullenly, she would. “I’ll call you up when I’m finished - don’t try and rush me, darling, it’ll only make me take longer. Our interests may even cross over in the future - you mentioned parchment? What a quaint one to pick.”

“Sure,” said Rallan. “Fine. Whatever. Have fun..stamp restoring. I hope you fuck up.”

“Charming.” The woman turned around, ready to check out the book with an exasperated looking Sinead. Rallan had forgotten how close this particular shelf was to the cashier desk. “I’ll be sure to make it perfect just for you, darling.”

[slow-reader-reads-books]

Lesbingyuan au where it’s the normal set up of post extras Bingge dimension traveling into another universe to find his own Shen Yuan. Except the world he arrives in (and is stuck in, can’t opt out of this gender journey) is a slightly genderbent one.

(hidden under a read more bc this turned basically into a wonkily grammatically tensed mini-fic)

Our darling Peerless Cucumber is a 20 something self-proclaimed straight girl with untapped soft butch potential, and is currently recovering from the harrowing trauma of the sunk cost fallacy. She’s spent a lot of time spending money on, reading, and participating in the online fandom of Proud Immortal Demon Way, and she’s currently also dealing with the fact that all her hard work in making herself heard to Great Master Airplane was seemingly for nothing. You see, Shen Yuan had the brilliant idea to create an account that appeared to be a perfectly demographically targeted straight male fan of YY novels who could critique Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky as his fellow but also his better and be listened to and receive great accolades from all frequenters of Zhongdian Literature and be validated for her hate of his writing.

“Airplane’s stupid pen name is a dick joke, I guess I gotta make mine one too… Just to, you know, seem legit and like we have common ground.”

What this charade accomplished was very little, but Peerless Cucumber did become very infamous for three things. One, his nitpicking (“It’s hardly nitpicking if it harms the integrity of the whole story1!!”). Two: his Luo Binghe fanboying (“As a protagonist he’s clearly just a cut above the rest when it comes to soul and wit, the story just rarely ever shows it off”). And three: his skipping of the steamy scenes (“I highly doubt this near identical scenario that also happened twenty chapters back but with a different wife of the week with this exact same cliffside flower giving off the same aphrodisiac mist to Bingge and new wife below will now suddenly be of any plot consequence for the next arc. It didn’t last time either, SKIP!”).

His fervent online activity garnered him the reputation of being an Airplane anti-fan, but also the assumed personality of a submissive simp who hates the easily dominated women that populate Luo Bingge’s harem. 

“lol thats why he must like mingyan so much. she never let bingge push her down. cucumber-bro must want a girlfriend who’ll chain him up and whip him! hes a pervert just like the rest of us, just a worse type kek.” 

Shen Yuan, when looking at such reply comments, gets shiver-inducing flashbacks to when her meimei left her BL comics out for everyone and the Buddha to see. She accidentally witnessed frightening scenes of thin, long-limbed men pushing each other down, tying each other to beds and cracking whips on skin until they shed blood, tears and semen, the shou begging for the gong to stop and the gong never listening. 

Shen Yuan tries to put such things out of her mind if only to preserve in amber the precious, innocent image of her meimei she knows to be true, but also secondarily to focus on the insulted male pride she’s supposed to be feeling after being accused of being a wussy submissive deviant in bed. That sort of accusation requires an in-depth 10,000 character response in order to remain in character as a straight male YY novel connoisseur.

Shen Yuan, as Peerless Cucumber but also as her true self, was undoubtedly straight. Staying in character, Peerless Cucumber made sure to extol the beauty of characters like Liu Mingyan— ��She’s an intelligent and cold beauty and is written with a clear and vivid personality! A true equal for our Bingge on the battlefield and in matters of the heart!” As well as occasionally Ning Yingying— “She’s not the boring choice, you all just don’t know the special value a loyal shijie character brings, even if she does lose 99% of her personality to that one singular trait…”

But don’t get it twisted! This is a part of her performance! In real life, logged off and touching grass and breathing fresh outdoor air, she’s your run-of-the-mill average girl who is just a part of the pack. 

Her goals in life are simply not ambitious, is all. If there was a competition with ten available spots to win, she’d have no qualms placing tenth and simply feel honored to have participated. If there are ten girls and nine of them bag a good boyfriend, Shen Yuan doesn’t mind being the tenth who gets unlucky. She’s just kind to her meimeis and jiejies like that! As if she’d take that away from them! They'd probably been wanted those boyfriends for a long time! 

Shen Yuan is hardly a sore loser, and she knows the great importance of girl code and female friendship.

So, Shen Yuan being the normal average and totally straight and cisgender girl that she is decides to wallow in her Airplane-induced misery by going to a con, donning her homemade Mobei-jun cosplay. She worked hours of her life learning how to sew just for this project to the point her family thought she was finally thinking about settling down and learning wifely skills. 

Unfortunately for her ignorant family she’s actually just investing in a really elaborate excuse to cross dress. Well, it’s not really crossdressing, it’s just cosplay! Cosplay is totally different and not about taking on the gender of a character, but their larger identity! She didn’t want to explain this to them, and internally felt afraid and hesitant about it, as if they’d view her as weird for wanting to do this, so she didn’t bother to try at all.

So, Shen Yuan in her 160 centimeter/5 foot 3 inch glory decked out in dark blues and blacks, fur lining the shoulders of her outfit for style points, and wearing a long white wig styled mostly loose but with a few thin braids, chances upon a particularly striking Luo Binghe cosplayer. Not just any Luo Binghe cosplayer, but the best one! He’s tall, must be over 180cm/6 foot but also svelte and willowy in surprising ways. His hair is long and flows down his back from a ponytail ornamented at the base with a thin metal guan. Parts of his cosplay seem very benign, but others seem meticulously crafted and exquisite in quality, especially that sword at his hip! Just looking at it intimidated her, yikes! Job well done, cosplayer!

This Luo Binghe also had the most beautiful and delicately boned face she’d ever seen, eyes dark and deep and highly reflective like that of a lake on a dark and starry night. The cosplayer’s voice was also deeply melodic and enchanting.

This cosplayer… is also a woman! Shen Yuan nodded to herself internally, yes that must be it! No man looks like this in reality, this is a fellow female sufferer of Proud Immortal Demon Way impersonating a fictional man for similar psychological reasons as her. A surge of female loyalty spawns in Shen Yuan’s chest, and she doesn't even bother resisting the urge to walk over and strike up a conversation with this Luo Binghe.

She spat out her name in quick order and immediately started on the topic of female character writing in the novel. The Luo Binghe cosplayer was looking at her quietly and with a heavy amount of gravity, ink-brush eyebrows sitting elegantly low above her eyes in attentive focus. What a good listener this lady is, Shen Yuan thought. She can’t remember when someone last listened to her this closely. She hypocritically chooses to not pay attention to that train of thought any further. “In a world like Proud Immortal Demon Way,” Shen Yuan began with slight smarm, “who would choose to be a woman? I certainly wouldn’t if I wanted to see the interesting parts of the world that drew me into the story in the first place. A male protagonist can explore it freely, but the female characters are all locked away in either the marriage bedroom or the highly isolated harem palaces. Great Master Airplane clearly didn’t eat enough walnuts as a child, he must have some sort of brain deficiency when it comes to writing proper characters— ” 

The tall Luo Binghe cosplayer suddenly spoke up. “Choose?” “Hm? Yeah, I mean, in a world like that, there’s basically no choice, yeah? Gotta serve the narrative and readers and all. But the real world doesn’t have a narrative, we only have ourselves and each other to guide us. So we just do what we want, figure it out as we go. Like us two! We wanted to dress up as these male characters from this asinine story and attend this con and we figured out how to do it! We’re kindred spirits, you and I, we’re zhiyin!” “So when you leave this con, you will also choose to take this manner of dress off and wear something else?” “Obviously. Though, my go-to outfit is just a big t-shirt and sweatpants, or athletic shorts. This kind of thing is the extent of me dressing up.” Shen Yuan didn’t notice, but the Luo Binghe cosplayer’s eyes mildly glazed over in irritated confusion at the unfamiliar terms. Nor did she notice the slight expression of planning that developed in that gaze, as if they were imagining a future shopping expedition to find an outfit Shen Yuan would want to dress up in that wasn’t a facsimile of Luo Binghe’s right hand man.

“I… also want to leave this con and wear something else.” “The busyness getting to you, huh jiejie? You must have gotten here a lot earlier than I did, you poor thing. I guess this is it, it was nice talking to you—” “I don’t have any other clothes with me, and am unable to go back home. Can you help this poor one, jiejie?” “Jiejie—” Shen Yuan coughed. “Am I… wait you can’t go back home? Did your ride ditch you or something, aiyah what a scummy thing to do! I do have extra clothes on me, though I don’t think they’ll fit you. But let’s go find out. I guess if I have to take care of you like this, it does make me feel like a jiejie. Your height made me assume you were older than me, haha.”

Shen Yuan laughed, and the Luo Binghe cosplayer rapidly relaxed and took on an easy smile. “An innocent mistake. Jiejie must often be assumed to be younger than her actual age.” Shen Yuan hummed absent-mindedly. “Eh, not really. I’m only 22, and I think I look it. It’s you who looks like a jade immortal, uh, meimei.” She stuttered when she realized she hadn’t yet caught the other cosplayer’s name, and for some reason it felt weird to just call her Luo Binghe without her also LARPing along as Mobei-jun. Shen Yuan by this point had taken the tall meimei’s hand, it pale and slender much like the rest of her, and had been pulling her along towards the public bathroom to make use of her backpack’s change of clothes, walking along the wall to avoid foot traffic. However, the moment she had finished her sentence and called the other one meimei, the Luo Binghe cosplayer suddenly slammed her free hand on the wall and yanked hard on the one Shen Yuan was holding, pulling her in close to herself, caging her in from behind. Shen Yuan squeaked and found herself crowded against the wall. Her back was encased in a warm and dark heat and she could see above her that jade-white hand curled tightly in on itself, heel practically grinding against the wall. It looked like it was trembling slightly. An earth-shatteringly tight grip squeezed the fingers of her still held hand to the point of hurting slightly. Shen Yuan winced at the sensation.

Shen Yuan heard sharp, heavy breathing above her. Not knowing what to do nor quite what was going on, she squeezed back the hand that was keeping hers hostage and leaned back slightly. Comfort is what she’s doing this for, right? Feels like the reason she’s doing it. 

Shen Yuan felt the other cosplayer jolt behind her. After a tense beat, a forehead slowly dropped onto her shoulder. Shen Yuan was wearing fur along the top half of her outfit as a part of her Mobei-jun cosplay, but nonetheless she could feel the vague contour of the other’s nose through it, burrowing deeper into its warmth. Shen Yuan now felt awkward for only bothering with faux-fur for her cosplay. But with that face resting upon her shoulder and an odd sense of vulnerability wafting off of her, a sharp sense of broad awareness filled Shen Yuan's mind mysteriously. Her mind filled up with sensory information on the one behind her, naturally taking note of every detail with ease.

“Meimei…” the Luo Binghe cosplayer trailed off, muffled slightly by Shen Yuan’s cosplay, but also seemingly by her own emotions being stuck in her throat. “Can I really be jiejie’s meimei?” Shen Yuan didn’t really know what to do or how to respond, so she simply continued to lean her weight back onto the other. She then pulled on the elbow that led to the hand positioned above her until it was brought down far enough for her to grab properly. Shen Yuan took both hands in hers and placed them in front of her in a comfortable position. They were slightly cold, so she rubbed at them with her thumbs.

The Luo Binghe cosplayer picked her head up and looked down at the sight with watery eyes and a warbling lip. Both of her hands were cradled in that grip, gently held in front of the shorter’s stomach in a tender and intimate fashion. Their arms were bent parallel and their front and back slotted together in a way that, to the taller one, felt predestined.

“Can you, what kind of question is that, of course you can. But, I’d like to have your name too, if you don’t mind? Only calling you meimei sounds like I’m calling out to my real little sister.” Shen Yuan laughed and looked up over her shoulder nonchalantly. 

Somewhere in the distance, she can hear people giggling and snapping pictures of the two. She felt a twinge of embarrassment. Of course this moment looks compromising from the outside, they’re cosplaying Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun!

Shen Yuan was suddenly working very hard to maintain a cool poker face in front of her very tall and newly minted meimei.

Bringing up her real little sister and then suddenly being thrust into this type of self-aware of cringe violently and nonconsensually summoned forth invented images of a dog blooded BL scenario that wouldn’t be out of place in her real meimei’s leisure literature.

Fellow con goers, please have mercy on us two women and don't be thinking of what I'm thinking! We’re merely having a pure hearted, early friendship bonding moment! Skinship is very much common and normal between people like us, disregard the kabedon! Totally normal female friendship is blossoming here, get your homoerotic dog blood tropes out of our personal lives!

“This one is called… Qiu Bingbing.” Her voice hitched and quavered with some sort of ineffable, delicate emotion. “Bingbing, ah? Written with the same character as Binghe, meaning ice? And Qiu, is that with the character meaning the autumn season or the character meaning a grave mound?”

Qiu Bingbing hummed and nodded lethargically to the first question and spoke up for the second, hesitating slightly. “Qiu as in autumn.” “What a pretty name, “autumn ice”. You fit the bill of Luo Binghe perfectly, but with a name like that it’s nearly a pity to go by something else. You’re a miraculous find in a place like this, Bing-mei.” Shen Yuan complimented with abandon, eager to make her new friend feel good, and turned around. Still holding one hand, she impulsively took the chance Qiu Bingbing’s still bowed head offered and patted it softly.

She did that for a while, not paying attention to anything else. A euphoric smile opened on Qiu Bingbing’s lips. She was lost in the moment too. 

The rest of the world fell away. As long as Luo Binghe, no, as long as Qiu Bingbing can worm her way into every crevice of Shen Yuan, she’ll be fine. He before was always grasping at any semblance of peace and security only for it to slip through his grasp like sand, but she’s found it. She’ll nestle in and hibernate inside Shen Yuan’s veins and she’ll never let go. She will never.

“Let’s go get you those clothes. Good thing I like them oversized, they should be mildly presentable on you, even if they aren’t anything girly.”

“I can live without anything girly, anything of yours will do.”

“That’s good to hear, let’s go then.”

[two-bees-poetry]

my main character is a teenage lesbian

[byebyebbyblu]

Representation is so fucking important. I’ll never forget the joy I got from seeing Vi on screen for the first time. A sweet goofy badass Butch who loved so hard it hurt. I’ve had so few, she’s so me! Moments with fictional characters but Vi is one of them. Vi allowed me to realize I could be masculine but that I didn’t have to be a man, that the things I hated about myself where things I could love in someone else, that a lot of people loved in someone else.