#comphet does exist

[dukeoftears]

Everytime someone calls a bi sapphic a "lesbian with comphet" an angel loses its wings

[dejasenti99]

her,

[rarilee33]

if you liked Synnøve Macody Lund in Saw X as Cecilia, you might want to watch Black Widows, the 2016 Scandinavian tv show where she plays Johanne who is, for all intents and purposes, very much obviously in love with her best friend Rebecka (they do not actually kiss... but they should've)

their friend Kira is also There

[omegawolverine]

spent the last 3 days watching all the scream movies i haven't seen and im watching scream 2022 rn and i already know like the twist is that one of these girls (sam im pretty sure) is billy's kid but i can't help but find it super funny bc nobody in the world could convince me that that man isn't as gay as they come like of course it could still happen regardless but the idea of him going out and just fucking girls with no alterior motive is like. crazy to me. personally <3

[sapphic-luthor]

i am really on the verge of identifying as a lesbian because i feel like that label really does fit me but what’s confusing me is that there is one fictional tv show character who’s a man who is probably the only man i’ll ever Like but it does really confuse me as to why i feel like i may find him attractive but never any man irl

would just like to generally casually direct you to the lesbian masterdoc just in case you were looking for a bit of a read this lovely friday eve

[mylordshesacactus]

okay listen it's very simple. Galinda Upland is a closeted lesbian experiencing comphet who imprinted on Fiyero because he's like a Kinsey 4 demisexual and thus sexually unthreatening. (Fiyero does not know this about himself) (Fiyero has imprinted on Glinda because his self-professed coping mechanism for dealing with his sexuality is that he will keep all of his personal earth-shattering revelations locked in a box that he never looks at and then someday he will die) (also because he's experiencing comphet and she's a lesbian and thus sexually unthreatening) (Fiyero would die twice before realizing that he's not straight except that about seven months into camping in the Fairy Himalayas or whatever the fuck his wife makes a bluntly casual reference to it and his poor nonexistent brain bursts into very existent flames which is concerning to all involved).

Elphaba is just a normal bisexual who thought she had better taste. Unfortunately the [gestures] unusual and exceeding peculiarity has also left her with a wildly insecure self-concept and associated paranoia about any perceived advances crossed with predatory-attraction complex unmatched by anyone who is not the average Earth trans woman.

They would be God's perfect polycule if God wasn't a snake-oil salesman from 1930s Omaha.

Anyway that's why Wicked is good.

[ourladyofemos]

shoutout to jerma for being one of the sole men that consistently reaffirms my bisexuality

[mr-payjay]

Salt's Sexual Harassment of OJ in Inanimate Insanity

this essay aims to prove salt is sexually harassing oj and that the show and the fandom take it much too lightly. it shows proof of her harassment and arguments as to why it is that, and why we should take it seriously.

table of contents

• proof of harassment

• “it's just unrequited flirting”

• “oj never says no”

• “salt is just a lesbian with comphet”

• “inanimate insanity doesn't have anything sexual in it/the harassment isn't sexual”

• “it's just a cartoon/it's just a joke”

proof of harassment

how is this sexual harassment? isn't it just unrequited flirting? there's nothing actually sexual about it, is there? well, I'm here to clear that up.

flirting is okay when it is welcome and wanted. if consent is removed or never given, and the person continues to repeatedly flirt with the other, it becomes sexual harassment. trying to force someone to date you over and over is sexual harassment. insisting someone is dating you and telling everyone that they are, when they are not, is sexual harassment. it is one-sided, forced, repetitive, and uncomfortable, which is what makes it sexual harassment. so let's see some examples of this behavior with salt.

semi descriptive video transcript:

the snowdown: salt implies that walking across the ice with oj is romantic, and he reacts with visible shock and discomfort. salt tells oj he's smart, then starts leaning towards him with mistletoe in her hand as he leans away with an uncomfortable expression. salt holds onto oj on the sled ride and he looks visibly uncomfortable, leaning away. once they reach the end, he looks upset but quiet. salt grabs him for a hug and he reacts with shock.

double digit desert: salt is unable to participate in the challenge, and oj is relieved, saying that her flirting makes him sick.

the great escape: salt sneaks up on oj while he's doing the challenge and grabs him in a hug, where he begins to panic and flail to try and get away.

breaking the ice: salt tells oj they can fix up the hotel together and drags him off as he literally yells “no”.

through no choice of your own: salt claims oj (who is dead and cannot say anything about this) is her boyfriend, gets upset when paper says he's not, then insists he's her ex at least.

objects in mirror: salt walks up to paper and oj and yells at them as they reunite. both of them react with anger and exasperation, oj explicitly telling her to please leave them alone. she is angry while being dragged away.

i also want to acknowledge some extra content here.

in the inanimate comic “complaints”, we see more evidence of her harassing oj, a LOT. all of these advances have been rejected, as she says herself, yet she persists.

and in the inanimate comic “everything's about-oj”, you can see oj's (and paper's) exasperation with salt as she shows up. she's wearing an oj shirt she apparently made herself, assumedly without permission (creepy). and there's an addition from brian to this comic.

this also has some proof of fan stalking oj, but this essay is about salt. knowing oj's “favourite hour to sleep” implies salt is quite literally stalking oj as he sleeps. the rest of the things she (and fan) know about oj are strange and unnecessary.

and here's a photo that exists in-canon where oj is physically pushing her away as she runs towards him and tries to forcibly touch him.

so let's look at some arguments.

“it's just unrequited flirting”

as explained earlier, flirting becomes sexual harassment when it is one-sided, non-consensual, and repetitive. oj is uncomfortable with salt's flirting and salt continues to flirt with him anyway for years on end, no matter how many times he rejects her advances. therefore, it is harassment.

“oj never says no”

oj does say no in breaking the ice. he also rejects her advances multiple times as salt mentions in the inanimate comic “complaints”. however, even if oj DIDN'T say no, that still doesn't mean this behavior is okay. he is showing signs of visible discomfort, he is not consenting, and he is frustrated. silence isn't consent. a lack of a no isn't consent. people can be scared to decline flirting, especially if they might be put in danger! and male victims can be afraid just like female victims are.

“salt is just a lesbian with comphet”

first of all, this is a headcanon, not canon. second, this doesn't excuse her behavior. no matter if it's comphet, psychosis, a program—she's still hurting oj. she is still sexually harassing him, no matter her intentions. whether salt is a lesbian or not, that does not excuse her harmful actions and how they cause pain and fear to oj.

“inanimate insanity doesn't have anything sexual in it/the harassment isn't sexual”

in the proof of harassment i gave earlier, you can see that salt forcibly touches oj without his consent (including when he pushes her away, leans away, or even outright says “no”), tries to force him to date her, and nearly initiates a kiss with him even as he's visibly uncomfortable and pulling away. this type of harassment IS sexually themed. non sexual harassment would be something like calling oj names, gossiping about him, typical bullying, etc. but this is specifically about dating, kissing, and touching him, and that is why it's sexual harassment.

“it's just a cartoon/it's just a joke”

why does this matter? because this is a show for children. no matter your age, this show is a cartoon aimed at kids (many, many people at the osc meetups are children or teenagers, in fact!). i, personally, have seen so many people say what salt does isn't sexual harassment, that it's funny to them, that it's just comphet, that it's just flirting, that it's okay. these are the lessons the show is teaching. it's hard to accept that something IS such a big deal, but what salt does is consistent, harmful sexual harassment, played as a joke. it's disrespectful towards real victims of sa and sexual harassment, and it makes it much harder for fans of the show to recognize when it may be happening in real life, either to them, a friend, or anybody else.

[distort1xn]

took 4 benzos w caffeine and sugar, blacked out and found this. what does it mean? who was i when i typed that? will i ever know peace on this bitch of an earth?

know the muffin man? bitch, i am the muffin man, and i got your mom’s fresh and buttered.

[taliabhattwrites]

I’m sorry if you’ve answered this, or if it should be obvious, but you does your substack say trans/rad/fem? What is trans radical feminism? How does it differ from just radical feminism?

Yep! It says Trans/Rad/Fem, as does the title of my book.

The short version is that your average online hate speech aficionado who calls themselves a TE"RF" is no more well-versed in actual radical feminist literature than the billionaire writer. The most feminist literature they've read is likely wizard kidlit, and maybe the most hateful bits of 'Transsexual Empire' or a bit of Sheila Jeffreys if you're lucky.

Meanwhile, the radical feminist tradition was one that itself emerged as a materialist, inclusive, and more working-class counterpoint to the First Wave's doddering Friedanism. People don't recall much of the first wave, but it engendered such ironclad feminist arguments as "lesbians are not oppressed by patriarchy because they do not marry and are not confined to the domestic sphere", or "mothers and fathers are equally responsible for women doing to the bulk of childcare, because mothers are so reluctant to let go."

Truly, it's a miracle there were any subsequent waves at all.

Adrienne Rich's essay on Compulsory Heterosexuality can be viewed as something of a turning point, a collation of a more materialist framework (since I don't believe Rich necessarily originated all the points she raised). She, rather gently and with more patience than I have ever demonstrated, addressed the arguments of the heterosexual feminists and highlighted the coercive nature of patriarchy and of heterosexuality itself, which could be considered a social regime, a model that attempts to subsume all women into domestic servitude and sexual labor for men.

(A quick aside--if you've ever encountered any arguments on this site along the lines of "CompHet is only for lesbians", do note that the original text involves Rich, a lesbian, laying out the argument to hetfeminists that all women, even straight women, are subjected to a mandatory heterosexual existence, and are punished for trying to live outside of it, as by pursuing economic independence or choosing to be childless.)

For me personally, given the rather dismal state of Indian feminism, which is dominated by affluent liberals and ignores the more radical prolefem and dalit feminist elements attempting to come to the fore, it was refreshing to finally behold a piece of feminist literature that identifies and names forced marriage as an aspect of patriarchy, one that a significant chunk of women all over the world, both within Western territories and without, live with. So much mainstream feminism in the 2000s and beyond was located in the interpersonal, the foregrounding of choices women "should" make, ignoring that for the vast majority of us, patriarchy either denies us any choice at all, or presents us with false ones, harshly punishing us for some choices while presenting them as "free".

(Liberal ideologies and systems, bound up as they are in a veneration of contracts between equal parties, account very poorly for contracts between parties on unequal footing, where one is at a significant material disadvantage and cannot truly make a "free" choice.)

Besides, it is neither true that modern feminism entirely discarded the second wave--look at "gender is a social construct" and "heteronormativity" for now-banal feminist concepts steeped in radfem origins--nor is it true that the "third wave", such as it was, was entirely aa step forward in inclusivity, trans-acceptance, class consciousness, or even racial justice. One need only look at the state of modern feminist discourses to see how well the latest "waves" have managed to argue the case for trans liberation, and my current most well-known essay is a deep dive into the Orientalist, transmisogynistic origins of "third genders", an idea the queer academy has uncritically absorbed and even championed.

I am under no misapprehensions that second-wave feminists would be my pals. A lot of them were white, for one thing. It is, however, a tradition that is both more diverse than the prevailing image of white, middle-class lesbian academics would have you believe, and one that has more than a few useful things to say, especially to a transfeminist.

I don't think we are best served by erecting a cordon sanitaire around the second wave and refusing to engage with it critically. I've read Transsexual Empire, for fuck's sake, and doing so revealed to me just how paper-thin this reactionary movement has always been. That book is as farcical and easily disproved as Hilary Cass' recent bilious screed, but both were elevated to legislative and political relevancy not due to their veracity, but because institutions simply need any literature to provide a veneer of legitimacy to their transphobia. That the texts exist at all is enough.

I have, in short, made my life's work engaging with scholarship that has historically ignored us, vilified us, or instrumentalized us, and that is as true for second-wave feminists as it is for cultural anthropologists. I just believe that Monique Wittig and Adrienne Rich made valuable contributions to feminist thought, and even as we remember all that their missteps, we should not erase what they did right.

On a personal note, I can think of no better revenge than taking the abandoned threads of the radical feminist tradition and finally fulfilling its aborted potential, as a transfeminist. The trans question tore the movement apart because of a subset of zealots who couldn't and wouldn't see us as sisters in the feminist struggle.

I am going to finish what they started, and make the conclusions that they couldn't. We're good at cleaning up other people's messes, after all.

[stanlunter]

Bi erasure in the fandoms

There are many types of biphobia among people, but I wanna talk about the least noticable type of it, which is super common and barely gets called out. "Headcanoning" canon/implied bisexual characters (mostly female, for some reason) as lesbians.

Usually they don't even portay it as a "headcanon", but just state that they are and make everyone believe this. And when they done, people even start call you lesbophobic for calling bi erasure our, bc It's suddenly you're the one who "erase" lesbians. And the funny thing is that a lot of those who state so, haven't even watched these shows and just have "heard" that these characters are "lesbians" and the continue misinformate everyone else. And that's awful and very harmful for bi community

Let's take some examples

1. Asami and Korra

Both are bisexual women who were in love with the same man and then broke up with him and started dating each other. Prolly the most heavily implied bisexuals ever. But what do people have problems with? Oh, they think that if a bi girl has broken up with a man, it means only that she realized she's lesbian. Not that her ex was a cheater, not that their relationship was toxic. No, they can break up only bc she had a comphet. There are no other options. And if a girl dates another girl, she's also 100% lesbian, bc bi girls are just "straights who wanna invade lgbt", right? Oh, yeah, also Korra is strong and muscle "lesbian stereotype" and Asami is "cold and lady-like" "lesbian stereotype" so yeah, It's absolutely makes them lesbians! — another example of why the stereotypes are actually harmful.

2. Poison Ivy (both in the show and in the comics)

Absolutely the same thing as with Korra and Asami, but is also a "mean lesbian stereotype" which is basically the strongest stereotype, so yeah. Ivy dated Kite man and was actually attracted to him. She liked kissing me and enjoyed his company. The only thing that made her break up with Kite man is that he wasn't someone she saw her future with. He didn't fit her and she knew who did - Harley, her girlfriend. Even when Ivy knew she was attracted to Harley (bc she litterally cheated with her), she still knew she is attracted to Kite man and even so planned their wedding, but being attracted ≠ being soulmates, unfortunately. People also for some reason think that just bc Ivy hates men, it means she has to be lesbian. Ig they don't know there are bi or even straight girls who hate men. Like febfems (bi girls who refuse to date men for political reasons and their safety) don't exist. Like you can't be attracted to someone you hate.

And after all, Ivy dating Kite Man (and Dan Back) isn't even the main reason she's bisexual. Besides it, she was confirmed to be bisexual multipe times by many different authors. She's canon bi in almost every universe. And the way some new authors are trying to change her sexuality is a clearest bi erasure. And It's also funny, cuz if someone ever dared to turn a canon lesbian character into bisexual, everyone would immidiatly lose it. But when they do the same with bisexuals, It's suddenly being ignored. Wow.

3. Sasha Waybright

Thankfully the last time I don't see this so often (mb bc the fandom is dying tho), but just when everyone's favourite "mean lesbian" was confirmed to be bisexual, everyone went wild... Yeah, their favourite stereotype was broken. Does it mean they started to understand that stereotypes don't define sexuality and that even mean girls can like men? Ofc not! They obviously started to say that she was confirmed as bi bc: 1. Disney didn't want to let her be lesbian 2. Mate did it only to make the fandom mad

Lmao. They really gonna believe anything but that a character can just be...bisexual. And even so, they keep "headcanoning" her as lesbian. I've even heard people who were saying she had a "comphet" and will realize she's lesbian in the future. That's not even funny, but it does make me laugh

4. Princess Bubblegum

Oh, I love the way the whole tik tok fandom suddenly started to call Bubblegum "canon lesbian" just bc someone has said so and others have spread it up. Ig I should be thankful, that they at least recognize Marcelin being bisexual, huh?

Anyways, the thing is that Bubblegum, just as much as Marcelin was heavily implied to be bisexual. She litterally had an ex bf and for those who love calling every bi character with ex bfs lesbians with comphet, besides that Bubblegum was also in love with Finn in the episode when she turned 13. She litterally kissed him there and has said she wishes she could stay this way with him. It was directly shown throught the whole show that's the only reason why Finn's feelings are one sided is that Bubblegum is way older than him. And in the episode "Too young" it was directly confirmed. But people are still gonna call her lesbian just...bc? I don't even know why, she doesn't even fit stereotypes that much. Mb they decided to "ruin stereotypes" by it? Or mb they just decided that since6she rejected Finn (a litteral child) it means she can't be attracted to men at all? This logic is even worse. But God only knows what is in their heads

5. Yang Xiao long

Oh, yeah, this one is usually super objectionable bc she was showing interest in men basically only in v1 and then started dating Blake. And if Blake being bi was so clear that there are basically no people denying it or bc she fits bi stereotypes, who knows, however we should remember that bisexuals don't have to have equal attraction to everyone (like Blake, who had 2 male and 2 female love interests) and they don't have to date all genders to prove their attraction.

But there are many evidences of Yang being attracted to men too.

In the whole Yellow Trailer Yang actively flirts with a man

In ep3v1 she happily gazas on shirtless men and then, when Ruby says "father wouldn't approve it" she answers (I know, I fo) – which already would be enought to confirm her attraction to men

But in the same volume, when the team decorates their room, when Yang hangs a poster with a male band of the artists she's attracted too, it was shown that she liked men as well.

Yeah, I got that both the fandom and Roosters really love to forget everything that was in v1-2, but It's a fact that Yang is bisexual as well as Blake. But wait, she's a "strong lesbian stereotype", right!!! So let's ignore a bi representation, sure!

6. Sunset shimmer

Here's a girl, who canonically has dated a man and was officially confirmed to be bisexual by the author in Twitter. So why do people keep "headcanoning" her as lesbian? Oh, bc she's SUNSET and has flags of lesbian colors. Like "Sunset" was invented by lesbian flag, yeah. And what's the funniest thing in this perfect argument is that Sunset Shimmer was created even before the sunset lesbian flag designed!

And, yeah, I could take the "she has said that she didn't like Flash so it was a comphet/pretending" thing, but the problem is that it still litterally was confirmed by the author himself that Sunset is bisexual. And in the further show and even movie we can see clear signs of them still having a thing for each other. Like Sunset winks to him and many of their other interactions, but they can be read in a friends way as well ofc, which doesn't make her any less of canon bi!

7. Clawdeen Wolf

Her situation is exactly like Yang's. Since not so long time ago Clawdeen was confirmed to be lgbt and there was announced a comic about her and Toralei's romantic relationship, everyone started yelling that she's "canon lesbian" now. However it was only confirmed that she's wlw, not lesbian. And wlw includes these little unknown people called bisexuals.

But why do I say she's bi, but not lesbian? Well, bc it was clearly shown in the show and the movies that she's attracted to men. Yeah, she's a bit less obsessed with them than others and doesn't have a bf, however her feelings for many of them were obvious. And it was no where near a comphet. No, she was exactly attracted to them, that's a fact. So for now, she's a heavily implied bi character who had feelings for boys and who is dating a girl, just like Yang. And calling her lesbian is kinda biphobic

8. Kagami Tsurugi

A canon bisexual character, who's love to both Marinette and Adrian was confirmed in official synopsis for s5 and official show bible. She was shown to have a clearest attraction to Adrian and Felix, 2 men. Even if after she has broken up with Adrian (and no, not bc she realized she was lesbian, but bc he has fucking lied to her face and has broken up her heart) some people got an idea of her being a "lesbian with a comphet", this idea was destroyed again by her new attraction to Felix, another man.

However people are still gonna ignore her canon sexuality and call her a lesbian, by using "comphet" as a justification, or even by turning Felix and Adrian into transwomen, which isn't a justification to erase bi representation either anyways!

It's especially hurting since she's my favourite character I strongly relate to tho

9. Sayaka

Omg, Madoka Magica is an anime that includes girls who like girls. Almost all of the main characters are implied to be lesbians. But you know who's being headcanoned as a lesbian the most?? That's right! The only girl that likes boys too! What an irony, yeah? Sayaka has a huge romantic tension with Kyoka and has a canon crush on her male childhood friend – Kyosuke. So we can have the only bi rep out of 5 wlw girls. Ofc this rep was taken from us, bc some people wanna headcanon (or even impose it as canon) that the only bisexual girl is a lesbian with a comphet! Sure, yeah. Again, my favourite excuse for bi erasure, nothing's new, lol

10. Utena and Anthy

Another bisexual couple, who's coded sexuality is always getting erased. Uthena and Anthy love each other and even shared a kiss in one of the endings. The status of their relationship wasn't directly stated in anime, however everyone who has eyes can see their clear romantic and not only tension. Utena's another love interest is Touga, who was her childhood love who she was shown to have super clearest attraction throught the anime, and this attraction has no platonic explanation, so yeah, Utena ia attracted to both men and women and It's canon. The same goes for Anthy: she had strong feelings for Dios. Both characters are bi-coded and comphet was never there. People are just trying to use it as an excuse to bi erasure bc they want all wlw characters to be lesbians, that's all.

So, if someone is gonna say that I'm "denying comphet" or any other shit like that, no, I know it exists and I know a lot of lesbians go throught it and it deserves a representation too, but in such cases the difference between comphet and an actual attraction to men is so clear and you know that.

There are also examples of the characters who had or could have comphet:

Like Apple White, who thought she supposed to like Daring just bc he's "her destiny", but she never liked him (and even in her bio she says that just bc they have to marry, it doesn't mean they're dating) and her actual "true love", who's kiss made Apple wake up was Darling, his sister. And It's an actually good example of comphet bc of the society pressure. Or Yuzu (even tho for some reason some people still think she's bi) who was said to never be in love with anyone untill her step-sister, she even lied to her friends about having boyfriends bc she thought there was smth wrong with her since she isn't attracted to men. Also Velma and etc. Unfortunately there aren't that many examples, but even with these ones the difference between a lesbian with a comphet and a bisexual girl is obvious, so yeah, you just want an excuse to erase bisexuals and turn them into lesbians and it will never be okay

[fadingdaggerr]

HIIII! I LOVE THE FIC YOU WROTE, THE AND NOW? SINCE UHM YOU'VE DONE CASUAL AND RED WINE SUPERNOVA, DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DO ONE WITH GOOD LUCK, BABE? OF COURSE WITH A HAPPY ENDING BUT WITH LOTS OF ANGST? OH AND IF YOU CAN'T OR TOTALLY DON'T WANT TO, IT'S ALSO FINE!

truth be told

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa loves you, in what way, she doesn’t want to know. based on good luck, babe! by chappell roan | 7.8k

includes: they/them used for reader (legit once), r is mean direct during the fights (within reason? up to interpretation), angst, HURT/comfort, happy ending

warnings: internalized homophobia and comphet, unhealthy relationship dynamic, swearing, verbal fighting, light kissing/making out

note: i do think melissa is bisexual, but the song is about a lesbian dealing with comphet, so for the sake of the fic, melissa is meant to be read as a lesbian. let’s go lesbians, let’s go! buncha lesbians coming thru! also u can’t tell me mel isn’t a taurus. be so fr. i know lisa’s a leo but look me in the eyes and say that a primary trait of ‘stubborn’ isn’t melissa. u can’t. ruled by venus? like come on.

I, Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti

You’re quite comfortable in this spot on the floor, curled against the couch with your head resting against Melissa’s thigh, rounded nails grazing over the stretch of your neck and exposed shoulder. Eyes numbly glued to the corner of the coffee table, the chattering of the Schemmenti family around you feels far away, not even Vinny and Annette’s arguing over God-knows-what can reach you. It’s peaceful here, even with the yelling and seemingly genetic snort-laugh they all possess. It feels like home in every way.

Something that sounds far away, underwater, that resembles your name passes your ear, but does not breach the wall of comfort around you. The light rocking of your head and grazing nails turning to gentle scratching pulls you back to shore, head shifting to look up at Melissa, eyes scanning her face. All you manage is a questioning hum as you regain your social bearings.

Melissa’s hand slides up your neck to softly hold your chin, “was asking if you’re alright. You’re awful quiet down there by yourself.”

“‘M good, Mel. Just existing, I guess,” you answer, leaning into her more.

Her thumb brushes over your cheek, just barely passing the corner of your lips, foregoing an actual response. The twitch of a smile against her skin has her heart racing, her own light smile fading. Melissa’s mind pushes the casualness to the forefront of her mind, how you are so at ease in this undoubtedly chaotic environment. A sip of her wine replaces the instinct to rip her hand away from you, cross her legs and leave you suddenly without a place to rest.

Take you, Joseph Vincent Peterson

“Why does this credentialing shit have to be so intense? I mean, seriously, didn’t I just fucking do six years of schooling and another two, two, of assisting,” Melissa loudly complains as she goes through all her notes over the counter, “that should be proof enough, but no.”

You grab her tensing hand from across the table, ceasing your organizing of notes by topic, “honey, see how confident you are though? Means you’ll kill it, won’t even be a sweat.”

“You don’t know that,” she says dejectedly, peering back down to her elementary mathematics notes.

“I do,” you say, standing from your seat to round the table and stand behind her. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her, reaching for her balled hands, and leaning to rest your chin on her shoulder, “I know these things. You got this in the bag, pretty.”

Taking a deep breath with closed eyes, Melissa relaxes against you as a lingering kiss is pressed to her cheek. Turning slightly to face you, she presses her own lips to the corner of yours in silent thanks. You suck in a tight breath, she rarely ever allows herself to be so affectionate, even a kiss on the cheek is a rare occurrence. Sure, Melissa is a hugger, with only a select few, but this is so different. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you are grateful her eyes are back on the notebook and she can’t see the dumbfounded look on your face.

You give her another half hour to obsess over words on a page before convincing her to call it a night, not even you can bear another moment looking at any of this. Admitting defeat, she lets you guide her to the couch, melting into the plastic lining. Melissa watches as you take your place against the arm of the couch, legs crossed in front of you while you flip through channels.

It takes less than ten minutes for the redhead to slowly start scooting closer, creaking plastic making her movements unstealthy. Taking the hint, you uncross your legs to make room for her and open your arms in quiet invitation. Unlike her previous shifting, Melissa nearly pounces into your arms, taking residence against your chest. One hand goes to her hair, scratching her scalp, the other rests on her arm, massaging the muscle.

It’s hard to tell when, or even if, Melissa is asleep on you. Her lack of talking or the slightest movement leads you to believe she’s dead to the world. Only a small whisper of caution passes your mind as your lips press to her crown, lingering there longer than you should. Snuggling into you, the redhead suppresses the smile of utter peace that begs to cross her wine-stained lips.

To have and to hold

Movie nights are always some of your favorite times with Melissa, struggling on a puzzle that you swore you could do. When you were sober. Now, the border still remains incomplete as your attentions divert to the TV when dramatic music begins playing. Admittedly, you aren’t really watching the movie to begin with, but Melissa seems to be so engrossed she hasn’t realized she’s still fidgeting with the same piece.

Aiming for her hand, you flick a puzzle piece into her lap to get her attention. Peeking up over the frames of her glasses, Melissa looks at you quizzically. Gesturing to the puzzle, you look back to her in silent question. She answers in a shrug, moving in tandem with you as you sit up to sit on the couch. A little grin grows as she realizes that she’d get to take her typical spot, but she has something else in mind.

Rushing ahead, she takes your usual spot against the arm of the couch, legs open to make space for your body and arms stretched out in invitation. Without question, you take your place, tucking your face into her neck as her arms wrap around you. Melissa is so warm, so warm that you feel like a cat on a sunspot, settling into her as her breathing calms your heartbeat.

Something switches in your mind, a sense of bravery fills you, and you press your lips to Melissa’s neck gently, lingering against soft skin. You try to pull away, but a hand on the back of your head keeps you in place, and you’re quick to oblige. Lazy, wet kisses glide across blushing skin, never harsh, not one mark left, just simple adoration.

Frayed whimpers leave her as you find a particularly sensitive spot, just below a freckle on the underside of her soft jaw. You can’t help but smile against her at the sound, instantly becoming your mission in life to hear it again and again. Trailing downwards, you stop at her clavicle, allowing your teeth to graze the bone, relishing in her breath hitching. She is chrysanthemum and mirth personified.

Wanting hands pull you up to her lips, and you stay hovering, barely a space between you. Noses brush, nails dig into your neck, hearts rapid. You feel you should tell her before you go any further.

“I love you,” it’s merely a whisper into the miniscule space, but it makes her hands pull you down to her lips. All teeth, all tongue, all need, but she doesn’t match your words.

For better, or for worse

Arm-in-arm, you and Melissa brave the harsh wind of the Philly night weather. She hadn’t believed you, and now she’s proven wrong, of course she passed her credentialing exam with nearly perfect scores. You’ve always told her how you have enough faith in her for the two of you.

Whiskey sours brought you together, at this very bar, having seen each other drinking one after finals junior year, and whiskey sours were how you celebrate every occasion. Ever since then, she has stolen the maraschino cherries from your glass with a grin, always pretending she didn’t.

Three drinks in, Melissa sweet talks you on to the dancefloor. With little room from the sea of people, she stays pressed against you, hands gripping at your sides. As the music slows, she slides her hands up to your neck, looking into you with something you can’t place, but you don’t complain. She’s a heavenly being, especially under the color-shifting lights and strobes. Green irises flick from your lips to your eyes, and there’s something in them that makes you desperately need to kiss her. Fluttering lashes quicken as she catches herself, stepping back before you can think of acting.

Just as much as she seems to not notice the pattern, you pretend not to.

“I’m gonna get a beer,” she shouts over the music, refusing to make eye contact. You manage a nod, watching her disappear into the crowd of drunk dancers. Carefully, you weave through the crowd to the bathrooms, needing a moment to breathe air without sweat mixed in.

After an embarrassing amount of recovery time, and a hit off a pipe offered by a kind stranger, you make your way back out to the bar, scanning for familiar red hair. Spotting her, no longer near the bar, but off to the side with a man. Melissa’s wearing her go on, get me a free drink smile, teeth just barely digging into her bottom lip, and he seems to be perfectly happy to do so. And you let him, cozying up to the bar to order a double to nurse.

Against your better judgment, you periodically check on Melissa and this mystery man. At first, her hands are to herself, and impressively, so are his. A few sips later, and her weight rests on the hand on his leg, leaning into his space with hooded eyes. Bile rises in your throat. You want to leave, but you came together, leaving her isn’t an option, not that it ever has been. When you check again, the man’s hand is cradling her face, and Melissa’s eyes flick to yours briefly.

She wishes she didn’t see the way your lips pursed, forcibly hiding a frown. In an effort to displace this feeling she can’t describe bubbling in her chest, she lets Joe kiss her, rough and wanting. Melissa kisses him back, lets his hands roam, nods when he mumbles to ask to take her home. With an arm around her waist, she walks with him as he walks her out.

Passing by you, she asks him to wait and sidles up next to you, “I’m- uh- I’m going home with Joe. You good to get home?”

“Yeah, love walking” you reply shortly, “just text me the address, so I know the secondary location.”

Melissa gives you an unimpressed look, “not funny. If I need a ride out of there, can I count on you?”

Looking her directly in the eye, you respond, “you can always count on me.”

Joe drives her home the next morning, with a hand on her thigh that makes her skin crawl, but she lets him. When he asks if he can see her again, she tells him she’ll let him know, and he seems to take it in stride. Stepping inside, taking her shoes off, making coffee, she’s fine. But the moment Melissa sits on the couch, a dark, twisted feeling crawls up her back and into her chest at the thought of seeing you later. The inevitable conversation you’ll have makes her feel sick, almost feeling as if she has to hide it despite you knowing. 

For richer, or for poorer

It almost feels too good to be real. Here in Melissa’s room, fan blowing, radio playing some classic rock station, on top of her comforter, pressed against her. Her lips dominate yours, tongue stroking yours for another taste of the cherry cola you’d been drinking when you got here, currently going flat on her nightstand. Greedy hands hold your shirt, refusing to let you move, needing you right where she has you.

Some days, she reveled in your attention so much that she would let herself turn her head when you went to kiss the corner of her lips. It always leads here, with her lips on yours, though she particularly loves it when it travels to her room. Your hands on her hips, fingers just barely dipping under her shirt, only the softest of touches. Always so gentle with her, your touch was never anything more than featherlike, especially so in moments like this.

Needing air, Melissa cups one side of your jaw and travels down your chin, to your jaw, to your neck, open mouth kisses littering your skin on the other. Shaky pants pass your lips, spurring her on further, mumbling baby as her teeth nip at the unmarked expanse of your neck. The hand in her hair only scratches her scalp, as it had before, but the slower ministrations match your deep breaths at every pass of her tongue. A thought passes her mind, one that freezes her from head to toe. Melissa needs you like this forever.

Feeling the lack of lips on you, your eyes peek down to Melissa’s paling face. Warmth leaves you as she pulls away, rolling from her side to lay on her back, face fear stricken. Taking the hint, you don’t touch her, just propping yourself up on your elbow against her pillow, “you okay, baby?”

You watch her take a few deep breaths, keeping your eyes on her saints, “I’m fine.”

“I can-” You take a breath yourself, “I can go, if that’s what you need.” Her short tone was making you squirrely, and her eyes forcibly ignoring you wasn’t helping the case.

“You don’t have to go. I said I’m fine,” she realizes her own tone, “I just… I just need a minute.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, rolling off the bed, “I’ll go put something on for dinner… you can take over when you’re done with your minute.” Melissa only looks at the door once you leave, face crumpling as she tries to push tears back. 

She doesn’t need you, doesn’t want you, she doesn’t. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, she can’t. Not when you hold her hand to not lose her in crowds, not when you fix her hair before getting out of the car, not even when she caves the moment your lips brush hers. It’s hard to deny the way her heart clenches when you forgo her name, always baby or pretty. It’s easier to say she loves you when she reminds herself you’re her friend.

In sickness and in health

Joseph ‘but call me Joe’ is a major pain in your ass. After three months of having his number, of not mentioning him, she texted him to invite him to the bar with you and your friends. Not once did she mention him coming, yet here he stands in a navy auto-body shop t-shirt. Their previous, singular night together clearly gives him this gnarly confidence, arm around Melissa’s waist and a hand just above her ass.

Your fingers burn from your biting, wishing you could throw the glass in your hand at him. He dares touch her in front of you, and she dares to let him. Each forceful placement of your glass back on the table makes green eyes flick to you, but they dart away before you can look back. Melissa wishes that the permanent frown on your face didn’t make her so upset.

Instead all she feels is acid in her throat, guilt and self-disgust making her squirm under Joe’s touch. Joe. She entirely forgot his presence until his hand slid into her back pocket. Peeking up, she notices that his eyes are not on her or the people talking, but on you, a hard look in his eyes. Acid bubbles, angered that he dares to look at you with such contempt.

Melissa nudges him with her hip to get his attention, cocking her head towards you in silent question. Joe leans into her, “your friend looks at me like I’m breaking a rule touching you.”

“Doesn’t mean you need to give the ugly eye. They’re just looking out for me,” she mutters, taking a sip of the amaretto sour he ordered her. It’s God awful, but she deserves as much in her mind.

Joe just gruffs a laugh, “looking out for you or jealous?” He takes her silence as not understanding, “when you’re not getting goo-goo eyes, I’m getting death rays.”

She won’t dignify an answer, hoping he’ll just take it as processing. Melissa knows, oh, she knows how you care for her, how you do more than just that. How you love her. It makes her feel ill, when it’s so clearly swirling in your eyes. The fact that others know, both her family and not, how they push her towards you, it’s terrifying.

Her mother adores you, always asking if you’re coming to dinner, begging for your presence at every dinner after the second one you attended. Kristin Marie jokes with you, not just insults, even asks your advice on things. Annette calls you Melissa’s other half, and when she gets a stony jade glare, it’s only because you two go everywhere together.

As if she knows it’s on her, she meets your gaze from across the table. Her mouth opens to speak to you, but a hand tugs her chin to the left, and Joe presses a rough kiss to her petallike lips. It’s a dare, a dare to cross him, a dare to even look at Melissa, a dare to take what he claims as his.

Forty horrible minutes pass, and on her way back from the restroom, Melissa scans the room. Everyone was right where she left them, chatting through mouthfuls of chips, except for you. Your spot had been filled in by the others, empty glass still sitting on the coaster. Over his shoulder, Joe gives her a grin, sated, waving his hand to get her closer.

Her hands scramble through her purse the second she’s seated, digging for her phone in hopes of a text from you. A single notification sits on her screen.

To anyone else, to Joe rudely peering over her shoulder to read the message, it would seem normal. However, Melissa knows better. There’s no heart at the end, no little ‘love you,’ probably written after you’d already started your journey. Just simply got tired, walking home.

In irritation, definitely not to shovel away guilt, she lets Joe kiss her again at the end of the night, after she downed another amaretto. Even lets him take her home, though he tried taking it back to hers, but to have him in a bed you have lied in? Unthinkable.

Joe’s kisses are as rough as his hands on her, just short of hurting when he grabs at her breasts. His voice is gruff as he offers to drive her home, despite her not feeling anything close to pleasure, close to some sort of good. It’s divine punishment, it seems.

To love and cherish

Melissa misses you. You are right next to her on the couch, yet she misses you. She’s grown too used to the comfort of laying against your chest, having your arms wrapped around her as you watch whatever movie she decides on. It’s ridiculous, truly. She’s with Joe, she shouldn’t be seeking comfort from anyone else, but her ear longs to be above your beating heart.

You’re still pressed against the arm of the couch, though you stay balled up and keep unblinking attention on the screen. The thought passes her mind to simply scoot up next to you, but it’s unwise with the mood you’re in. Since she called you and said Joe officially asked her to be his girlfriend, you’ve entirely pulled back. Not so much as a kiss on her cheek in six months. Melissa feels like she’s in the thick of withdrawal. 

Green eyes feel like crosshairs as you feel them scope your body, attempting to read your displeasure without asking. Truthfully, you want to be here with her, but the clock on your time goes down with each second that gets closer to Joe arriving for their date night. In effort to not cause a fight, you’ve kept away, always leaving before he gets there so as to not be forced to talk. Joseph gets a lot of joy in reminding you he’s there to see his girlfriend.

“What?” You speak into the open air, not bothering to peek at a staring Melissa.

“You’re quiet,” the redhead offers cautiously. She’s seen your bad side, but she’s never been on it. Silence from you is a sort of weapon.

You sigh, “I don’t have anything to say.” More like you don’t have anything good to say.

“You’ve got plenty, or else you wouldn’t be quiet. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Her hand comes to stroke your hair, an attempt to smother the fire, but you duck away from her touch, finally looking at her.

“Just drop it, Melissa. You don’t wanna hear it,” you look back at the TV. It’s the most honest you want to be with her.

The calm demeanor drops, “and how do you know that?”

“Because I know you.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell! Me!”

“You! You are what’s wrong!” You shout as you turn to face her, brows furrowed and nostrils flaring. “You kiss me! You touch me! You tell me you care about me! You hate every woman that gets within ten yards of me, who dares show interest in me. For what?” Melissa is in shocked silence, not answering. “Because you can’t stand that they want me, that I could want them too? Because I could maybe, just maybe, have feelings for someone that isn’t you?”

“That’s not-”

A bitter laugh leaves you, “have you ever stopped to think about what you’re doing to me when you kiss me, let me kiss you, and then just start sleeping with some guy? How do you tell me you care about me more than anything and then kiss him in front of me? I have never hidden how much I love you Melissa, not once, and you rub it in my face?”

Standing from the couch, you try to create distance as you pace with your hands on your hips. You can’t even look at her, knowing the hurt look on her face will break you. You’ll say it’s all fine when it isn’t. This dam cannot be patched. She tries to hide it, but you hear her sniffle as she stands to be level with you.

Her arms cross to create a proactive barrier, “you are the one that just assumes it’s all about you. Joe is a good guy, he cares about me, loves me. He tells me, he tells his friends.”

“And do you care about him? Love him too?”

Melissa’s eyes widen, “I… I could.”

“You could?” It’s almost a laugh. “You sound real confident in that ability. Let me know how that goes.”

The red she sees matches her hair, “and what have you done? Sit and wallow.”

“Oh, sorry, were the many times I said ‘I love you, Melissa’ not clear enough? Or were you just purposefully pretending to hear ‘you’re my bestest platonic pal’?”

“How was I supposed to know what that meant?!”

Your stills, a sudden calm coming over you as you realize the lost cause, “be so fucking rea- you know what? I’m done.” Stepping around her, you go to the door to put on your shoes, feeling like there’s glass coating the soles.

“You’re-”

“Going home,” you say standing, “I can’t do this anymore. At this point, I’m just torturing myself.” There’s no pause before opening the door.

“Please, don’t leave,” Melissa’s voice cracks.

You can’t face her, “I love you. But I can’t say I feel the same about the idea of you only loving me when others aren’t around.”

“I love you, I do. Just, please don’t go.” The door slams in Melissa’s face.

Eyes stay on the driveway as you leave, immediately pulling into your spot, Joe.

Until we death to us part

A surprise dinner for their one year anniversary might just be the most romantic thing Joe has done for Melissa the entirety of their relationship. He called her to tell her to dress to the nines, well maybe the sevens, which made her laugh, quick to hang up to start curling her hair. As she sections her hair, she wonders what kind of restaurant, which cuisine, silently praying that it’s not Italian.

Leaning against his truck, Joe lays on the horn to alert her of his presence, climbing into the cabin as Melissa steps outside. When she gets in herself, Melissa does a once over of his clothing for the evening, hoping to not find an oil stain that seems to be on every single shirt the man owned. None. Not even a mark of too-much-bleach to get rid of an old stain. Collar pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. Joseph bought a new shirt, just for tonight.

“You look handsome,” she says, leaning against the middle console to press her lip to his cheek.

Wiping her gloss from his face, through a cocky grin he says, “thought I should clean up.”

Metallica plays on the radio, no other conversation is even attempted before he pulls into the parking lot of Yamitsuki. Joe’s already a quarter of the way to the door by the time Melissa gets out of the truck, carefully dropping to the pavement in her heels. At least it’s not Italian, at least it’s not Italian.

In hopes to get and keep his attention, her arm wraps around his when he reaches him at the host stand. When the host seats them, Joe yanks his arm from Melissa’s to get in the booth across from her. The redhead sits silently, letting the man order her drink and the appetizer he wants. When he reorders his beer, wanting an American brew, she mentally steps back. Nodding and humming seems to get her through most of these conversations.

A loud laugh from the hibachi station captures both hers and Joe’s attention, though he seems more interested in the puffs of fire coming from the grill. The woman laughing grips the counter as she tries to catch her breath, her date, facing away from Melissa, is shaking with laughter as they rub the woman’s arm. Silver catches the light, and green eyes are drawn to the rings on the date’s hand. A wide silver band, only one constellation engraved into the metal. She doesn’t have to look closer. She knows it’s Taurus, she knows it’s hers.

Tempura, onigiri, even her beloved donburi, they all taste like straw as her mind rotates her constellation brushing against someone new. Melissa doesn’t even have in her to frown when Joe slams his glass on the table to get the attention of the server as they rush past with trays. Peeking away from the adult tantrum over a Budweiser, her eyes go back to the grill.

God, she wishes she hadn’t. Talking kindly to the cook, she gets a view of your profile. Warm lighting makes you glow, the easy smile on your lips makes her heart clench. You’re here, with this woman, and you’re happy. You’re without her and you’re happy. Her grip in the table cloth tightens, pulling everything her way.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asks with a mouthful of noodles. Her eyes snap to him, brows furrowed in confusion, “your face, you look upset. Is it the food?”

She finds it in herself to smile a little, “I’m fine. Just spaced out for a second.”

He doesn’t believe her, so in true Joe-fashion, he talks about everything and nothing to move her attention away from whatever’s bothering her. It would be annoying if it wasn’t a tad endearing.

A silent prayer goes to all deities above when she walks into the empty restroom, Melissa also locks the door to ensure the privacy stays. The ringed fingers gripping her lungs let go, and for the first time since she walked in the restaurant, she can finally take a deep breath. Leaning on her hands against the counter, Melissa looks at herself in the mirror. Time to put your big girl pants on, Schemmenti.

Turning on the sink, Melissa runs her hands under the cold water to cool down, the splotchy red on her chest finally dissipating. Shaking the water from her hands, she nods to herself. Turning on her heel, she forces her shoulders back, spine straight, totally fine. Stepping back into the hall, she immediately collides with another person.

“Shit, I am so sorry,” a familiar voice says as hands hold onto Melissa’s elbows to stop her sway. Long lashes flutter around wide eyes as she only stares, watching your eyes fly from where your hand rests on her arm to her face. Your eyes quickly widen as your hands pull away, though they harden swiftly, concern becoming stone. “Sorry,” is all you mumble before turning away from her, giving up on your journey to the restrooms.

What possesses her, she doesn’t know, but she follows you. Grabbing your arm, she tugs you in the restroom she had just left, locking the door behind her, she leans against it as you just stare at her. The unblinking glare you give is something she hadn’t ever been on the receiving end of, but it feels as awful as she assumed.

“Nothing?”

Your jaw drops a little, and you let out a sharp, breathy laugh, “nothing? Nothing what? Was I supposed to faint?”

“Was maybe thinking you wouldn’t just walk past me when I haven’t seen you in six months.”

“And why’s that?” At her lack of answer, your head tilts, “did you want me to stay behind glass to break in case of sudden realization?”

“Sudden realization?” It could be better to play dumb.

Biting your cheek, you look at the ceiling before you speak, “yes. Sudden realization. Maybe realize that kissing me, wanting me to kiss you, it’s pretty gay. Very gay, actually, in my professional opinion.”

“I’m not gay,” Melissa mumbles, twiddling with her fingers. Maybe playing dumb wasn’t the move.

You nod slowly, “right.”

“I’m not. I love Joe, we’re here for our anniversary. I’m not gay.”

Closing your eyes, you exhale deeply, “glad that’s settled. Can you stop holding me hostage?”

Melissa can feel the weight of your words. You’re not just a hostage of this room. You’ve been perpetually held hostage by your feelings for her, imprisoned for years and years, with never getting the love you bore in return. She tries to step closer to you, but you move at the same time, pivoting around her and unlocking the door. Your name leaving her lips in a cracked voice makes you halt, but the simmering fire in your chest refuses to let you soften.

“Let me go, Melissa. Should be easy, since, you know, you don’t love me, not really.”

“B-” The door shuts in her face again.

This is my solemn vow.

—☽—

Melissa wakes with a jolt, beads of sweat gliding down her spine. Heaving breaths constrict her chest and she drops her head into her hands in an attempt to focus and calm herself. The tight feeling in her chest dissipates as a final deep breath leaves her lungs, face cooling and heart slowing. Lifting her head from her hands, she peers to the right to make sure she hadn’t woken Joe.

Perhaps she would have, had he been there.

Joe was only ever home maybe two nights a week, always ‘working late’ and coming home well rested the next morning. Nina was getting most of his time these days, all his attention, love, and acknowledgement. It was getting hard to keep track of the times he’d almost called her Ni instead of Mel, after it hit double digits, she didn’t care anymore. It was clear now, more than ever, that she was his wife in nothing but name.

Only in her dreams does she get a level of peace, the smell of patchouli and spearmint comforting her in the haze of sleep. Oversized knit sweaters and denim brush her skin in this personal Eden, but the morning sun brings her to gasoline and another woman’s perfume. 

A part of her, deep in the back of her mind, screams, and it has only gotten louder over the last ten years. The voice screams, bordering on blood-curdling, telling her how much she hates him, how much she doesn’t love him, how much she regrets him. Every morning she wakes with him gone, the more she listens to that little voice. Every time she smells Chanel on the Eagles jacket she bought for their five year anniversary, the voice gets a little louder.

The voice warps and becomes familiar as Melissa stares blankly at the empty space beside her. You could? Let me know how that goes. If you were able to see her now, you’d be giving her that raised brow, biting your inner lip to keep from saying something she probably didn’t want to hear. In this moment, she would do anything to hear what you’d say, even if she may cry, even if she doesn’t know where you are.

With her mind running a mile a minute, she was unable to will herself back into sleep, giving up to make coffee instead. As if the universe wanted to mock her, the door quietly opens and closes, careful footsteps walking through the living room before the pause in the doorway to the kitchen. Joe and Melissa just stare at each other blankly, silence permeating their existence in these four walls. Without another word, she just pours him a cup of coffee, spooning in a little sugar before sliding it towards him.

Joseph, to his credit, reads that something is wrong, terribly wrong. There’s no anger on Melissa’s face, not even a twinge of sadness. The few times she was awake when he got home, she wouldn’t even look at him, just frown, but now, nothing. Sipping his coffee, he accepts the fate that comes at him like a fastball.

Before he even fully sits down across from her, she speaks without breaking eye contact, “I want a divorce.”

Joe did not argue, he’d seen this long coming. He saw it when they told her parents they were engaged, how Annette had to purse her lips, Kristin Marie taking her sister aside to talk privately. He loved Melissa, for a time, but he knew she loved the non-existent obligation to him, and he drifted. Regrets of his behavior disappeared the less Melissa seemed to care. Their positions were identical; he is only her husband in name.

By the end of March, he was fully moved out and placing his key in the palm of her hand. Pausing his steps, he turns back to Melissa, pressing a short kiss to her cheek, “I hope you find what you need.”

July is Melissa’s favorite month. No school starting or ending, no prep days just yet, not even a single manilla folder on the coffee table. Just Melissa, Cabernet, and the sunlight. She felt content under the sun, warming her skin and making the freckles across her chest and shoulders bloom. When Barbara invited her to the beach, she almost said no, until the mention of a private beach hut and bottomless margaritas.

By the second marg, the cackles coming from the hut could be heard from the waterfront, not that the two women cared. The third, and beginning of the fourth, the conversation went from silly to serious, both women speaking in not-so-hushed voices.

“He just didn’t care. I said I wanted a divorce, and all I got was okay. Was expecting some sort of fight,” Melissa says as she plays with the pink umbrella in her drink.

Barbara’s head drops to the side, “to be fair, dear, you weren’t really in it anymore either. You can’t seriously think he couldn’t pick up on that.”

“Wasn’t expecting a screaming match or anything, just a talk. I tried making it work, he’s the one who was out and about with Nina.”

“Melissa Ann,” Barbara starts, “you have been mentally checked out of that marriage before you even walked down the aisle. I’ve known you seven years, and I’m sorry, but it’s been clear you didn’t love him anymore. If you ever did.���

The redhead stares at Barbara with a heavy look, “what do you mean by that?”

“I’d like to think I know you well. And knowing you means I see you, see you as you are. That man, any man, is not what you long for.” Putting her drink on the table, Barbara reaches over to grab Melissa’s hand, squeezing it lovingly, “you look more in love in those university photos that you do in your wedding ones.”

Melissa fiddles with her fingers, “I’ll never have that back, I’m too late. It’s too late.”

“It’s not. Not too late to give yourself the space to see yourself, to find who makes you happy,” she reassures her friend. The tears threatening to spill from Melissa’s eyes make her tug her in for a hug, “you will be okay. And you won’t be alone.”

—☽—

Elaine stands from the table slowly, avoiding Melissa’s eyes as she mumbles a bye and leaves the bar. Six months down the drain, all because Melissa wasn’t ready to move in, just barely having given the woman the code to the door so she could let herself in. She’d called Melissa scared and a child, but what hurt the most, a coward. The redhead didn’t even dignify her with a real response, just saying if you’re done, then go. I won’t stop you.

Sipping the last of her drink, Melissa pays the tab for her vodka soda and the cosmopolitan Elaine had, telling the bartender to keep the change as she leaves to walk home. Walking the three miles home wasn’t going to be fun, but she could maybe clear her head, definitely get tired enough to fall asleep on the couch.

Ten minutes into her journey, a voice from nearby was calling out, catching Melissa’s attention immediately.

“Bosco! C’mon, inside time!” The laugh that follows stops Melissa in her tracks, another call of Bosco has her walking quickly to find the source. Under a streetlight, she pauses.

Across the street, in a little fenced yard, was a Brittany spaniel doing laps around the yard, darting and dashing away from the owner. Giggles filled the yard as the dog and owner seemingly played tag, the collar jingling in tandem with the laughter. Green eyes trail away from Bosco. You.

You look the same you had the last she saw you, apart from your hair being longer, smile lines a little deeper. Melissa can’t help it, eyes going to your hands, scanning for rings she doesn’t find. No wedding band, but especially, no constellation. Had you gotten married and divorced like her? Were you just the kind to not wear your ring? She doesn’t think so. Are you happy? You look happy, she hopes you’re happy. How long have you been here? Only two miles from her? Last she knew, you left Philly to no-one-would-tell-her-where.

She watches you stop running, hands on your knees as you speak breathily, “alright, for real. Inside time, Bosco baby!” Tears spring to her eyes as your grin grows, watching your dog gallop towards you and almost knock you over. “Oh, you’re excited to watch Living Single, huh? Let’s go.” Melissa watches Bosco trot next to you as you disappear behind the door, from her.

A watery smile crosses her lips, you were still watching the show you watched together nearly every night. Melissa still remembers the nights where you would play with her hair, twirling it around your fingers as she sunk into your chest, pressing soft kisses to her head as you giggled at something Khadijah said to Max. Those nights were her only sense of comfort, and for years, the mere memory would make her heart quake.

Pressing on, she keeps on her way home. Instead of falling asleep when she finally gets to her couch, Melissa turns on Living Single and curls against the arm of the couch, nudging her nose into plastic-wrapped fabric. She can almost smell the incense and mint gum.

For the next couple of weeks, Melisa takes it upon herself to go on more walks. Walks to the deli, to the bar, to the coffee shop, even to the park. Occasionally, there are days where she takes the longer path, one that passes the fenced yard of a brick building. To her dismay, she has yet to see you. Part of her panics, thinking that you may have seen her and were avoiding being seen. The rational part reminds her that you have a life. Luck just seems to be running low.

On a chilly Thursday, however, she stares at her feet to keep the wind from making tears and smudging her eyeliner. The clacking of steps on the pavement and jingling of a collar brings her eyes up, a familiar spaniel practically tugging against the blue leash. Bosco looks at Melissa’s still form, and starts pulling harder, trying desperately to meet a new friend.

“BoBo,” you almost whine, looking up from the grocery list on your phone, “hell you doing bud-”

Stopping in your tracks, your arm jerks as your dog pulls, but you stay in place. Wide eyes meet, and all either of you can do is stare. With a huff, Bosco pulls again, forcing you closer to Melissa. Nudging her hand, he begs to be pet, forcing her hand on top of his head.

You swallow the lump in your throat, speaking quietly, “you can pet him.”

Wordlessly, without taking her eyes off of you, her nails scratch gently at the dog’s head. Your own eyes flick around her face, only quickly dipping to where her hand pets Bosco. No ring. Shaking your head, you look back up.

“Melissa,” you say with a little nod. The corner of her lips turns up at hearing her name from you. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good…” She clears her throat, “how are you?”

“Yeah, good. You still teaching?”

A little smile stretches across her face, “second grade, over at Abbott in West. Eleven years, almost, now.”

“That’s nice, Abbott’s nice. Micah’s daughter’s starting there next year,” you say, fidgeting with the leash in your hands.

A surprised laugh leaves her, “Micah’s got a kid? Jesus…”

“I know,” you chuckle, “the man who still ties his shoes with bunny ears.”

Bosco takes the second of silence to hop up on Melissa, front paws going to her chest as he tries to sniff and lick her face. The motion shocks Melissa, who only manages a little oof! You’re quick to move, stepping close to hold under his arms and gently pull him back towards you, still hopping and trying to get to Melissa.

“Dude, what the hell?” You say, looking down at your dog, before quickly going back to Melissa, “I’m sorry about him. New people are apparently chew toys to him.”

“It’s okay,” she replies with a smile, she’s more than okay right now. Entirely stunned by the newfound closeness, the time passing around only really hits her as a car honks at a bicycle in the street, insecurity crawling in. Clearing her throat, she adds, “I- uh- it was nice seeing you.”

The little smile falls from your lips, “oh… Okay, yeah. Nice seeing you, Mel. Sure I’ll see you around.” With a little frown, you gently tug Bosco’s leash, him immediately walking with you.

Melissa turns quickly and starts to follow you, almost running to catch up. “Wait, wait. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean go, I just- it is nice to see you,” she speaks through little pants. “Would you wanna get coffee or a drink sometime? Catch up? Only if you want to,” she rushes the last part, trying not to seem as desperate as she is.

And there it is. The little grin she loved so much, had missed so much. You try to suppress it, but it’s entirely impossible. “Whiskey sours?”

—☽—

Whiskey sours. Coffee. Meeting at Wawa for lunch. Diner pancakes for supper. It was small, and then it was damn near every day for weeks on end. Time had taken the anger she had last seen in you, replaced with sheer nerves, and now comfort once again. Melissa slowly gives in and shares little things, trying to gain your trust. The lack of any Joe-mention was telling enough, as if no ring wasn’t practically shouting. To be subtle or to not be subtle, that is the question. But this is Melissa Ann Caterna Schemmenti.

“Random question.”

“Potential random answer,” you reply through a bite of your burrito.

Melissa mulls over her words, “is six months together not stupid soon to move in with someone? My ex called me a child for saying no fucking way.”

“Personally, yeah. Knowing you, even bigger yeah. Clearly didn’t know you well enough to be moving in with you.”

Melissa nods as she wipes her lips with a napkin, “no, she clearly did not.”

The pause of your chewing only lasts a brief moment before you look up, “her loss.” There’s no hiding the blush that covers Melissa’s face.

Through lunch, and the subsequent walk to finish the never ending conversation, neither of you really want to leave the other. Every topic carries to another, nearly twelve years apart coming undone the closer you sit. You fumble through inviting her over, with the mention of thinking you have the ingredients for sours, as if you hadn’t bought everything the night before.

Late into the night, with the TV low and Bosco curled in his bed, you rest against the arm of the couch. Melissa keeps her legs tucked to her chest, chin resting on her knees as her eyes struggle to focus on the screen. Sitting here with you, it’s so hard to not want to be held by you, it feels almost second nature. The churning in her mind makes her entirely unaware of the attention on her.

Shifting, you rest your back against the arm, putting one foot down on the floor. A socked foot pokes Melissa, making her jump slightly. Prehnite eyes flick towards you, quickly scanning over your position. She bites her inner cheek, eyes meeting yours in silent question. The answer she receives is a weak attempt to reach for her, too lazy to say anything.

Lightning quick, Melissa lays on top of you, taking her place in the warmth of your neck. Your arms wrap around her snuggly, holding her as if she would disappear. She feels your nose nudge her hair, a little movement against her forehead feels like a smile, one that matches her own. Gently, with a butterfly's touch, Melissa pressing a short kiss to the column of your throat before resting again.

She loves you. She does, she does, she can.

i’ve got a doctorate in projecting

if you’re looking for a longer form of a similar concept then please, if u haven’t, read the entwined series by @lot-of-nothing it is INCREDIBLE i’m speechless

feedback appreciated as always <3

[justanisabelakinnie]

YES TYSM!!!

Does Percy Jackson like women

Percy Jackson (Novel Series, 2010)

Explain your reasoning in the tags!

[spotsandsocks]

Fuck it Friday!

@tizniz @diazsdimples

As they say I did not mean for this to exist and yet here we are 1.3k later. Will put on ao3 later and tag everyone later- in my lunch and running out of time. And I need to set this free so I can know peace.

I got in my Eddie feels - aren’t we all right now, had thought and now… have some pain with a hopeful ending. I’m still sold in eddie being so deep in comphet he has no idea what to do. This is the push he needs. Demi Eddie for the win. No Eddie bashing here! Chris loves his dad and wants to help.

When you walk into your living room and find you parents, your son and your best friend sitting there waiting for you, you know things are bad.

To be honest he should of expected something like this.

Eddie stands frozen, awaiting his fate as his dad speaks first.

“We need to talk son.”

At least that’s true Christopher has barely said a word to him since it happened. Not that he blames him.

“We’re worried about you.”

Buck goes next but those words aren’t new he’s already said that and again Eddie doesn’t blame his friend for his feelings. Like he said last time he’s worried about himself too. It’s hard to get his head around the recent choices he’s made harder to think about the consequences.

It almost like it wasn’t him making the decisions. It’s almost like he doesn’t know who he is anymore but then has he ever?

“I’m going to go to Texas”

The third sentence comes from Christopher and is possibly the worst thing he’s ever had to listen to and Eddie has had to hear heartbreaking words so many times.

“What?”

That’s his voice. the first thing he’s said but it’s a barely a whisper. Surely even with everything that’s happened Chris can’t mean that.

His son looks at him, calm and steady and repeats himself.

“I’m going to Texas with grandma and abuelo.”

Eddie turns to his parents all his hurt and betrayal rushing to the surface, he’d thought… he’d let them back in, trusted them

His voice is louder now, “How could you? Why? Why would you try and take him away from me again. I thought..”

Chris stops him in his tracks

“They didn’t ask me. I asked them.”

There’s no words available to respond to that.

“Dad?”

His heart hurts. His head too, everything hurts. He’s fucked up again. Again, again, again. The worst things he knows he deserved this, he caused this nightmare it’s his fault, his fault every time.

Chris’ voice sounds far away.

“It’s not ‘cos I’m mad.”

Eddie doesn’t even hear him. He’s found words and they sound desperate.

“I’ll come with you.”

If Chris wants to leave he’ll do it. No matter the cost. No matter what he leaves behind.

Then that sacrifice is taken from him too.

“No. I don’t want you to.”

He can’t breathe. He’s dizzy, he can’t think. What has he done?

He can’t hear them when they call him.

“Dad?”

“Eddie?”

“Son? Mijo?”

“Eddie?”

“Dad?!”

He turns from them all and he runs.

An unheard voice chases after him.

“I’ll go.”

*

Standing by his sink trying to breathe like he’s been taught when this happens to him he doesn’t need to know who followed him when the footsteps stop.

Buck. Always Buck.

“He’s not trying to punish you”

He can’t turn around. Can’t look, not yet.

“Feels like it”

Soft and concerned, that’s how he sounds. Buck sounds like that a lot recently.

“He’s not. He wouldn’t. He loves you.”

There’s nothing but bitterness in his own words.

“Does he? Maybe he shouldn’t.”

“Eddie!” There’s censure in that word, Buck obviously disagrees and disapproves of that sentiment.

“He loves you. He’s angry and he’s hurt but he still loves you. You can be upset with someone and still love them. I think you know that better than anyone.”

He does.

“Then why is he going.”

He wishes he didn’t sound as heartbroken as he feels. Wishes he could still manage to hide some of his heart from this man.

“Because you need him to.”

Spinning around he turns on his best friend to challenge the stupidity of those words.

“What? I need him here with me. He has to stay with me.”

“Eddie.” Buck’s face and voice hold nothing but aching sympathy. It’s like a knife cutting him open which isn’t fair he’s already got so many wounds.

Then it gets worse because a new voice enters the kitchen.

“Dad… you always tell me I need to be myself, that that’s good enough.”

Eddie stares at his son standing there, just behind Buck, so tall now, so much older than he is in Eddie’s heart.

“But I don’t think you do that. You should do that if you want me to.”

It’s all to much and even rubbing his face doesn’t stop him feeling tired and defeated.

“Chris what are you talking about?

Buck looks down at Chris who nods. There’s unspoken words flowing between them and it’s obvious they’ve been talking about him.

Chris says “Buck can tell you. He worked it out. And he’s right. I do love you.”

Then he walks away, leaving Eddie staring at his friend and waiting for answers.

“Eddie, its it’s like… well, you were a dad and a solider and a medic and a husband. All before you were 20. Man! That’s a lot!!”

Buck takes a step closer.

“Hell Eddie I was a kid at nineteen, a baby, I had no idea who I was what I wanted, and you had to be all that. And your dad told me you had to “be the man of the house” when you were even younger than that.

So who are you? How can you know?

You’ve been so many things for everyone else. You try so hard to be “normal” I see that and I I know you think you’re broken, but you’re not.

You just haven’t really met you yet. How could you, when did you have the time?

That’s why Chris is going away. Just for the summer. He wants you to have time to be you. Find out who Edmundo Diaz really is.”

Eddie listens stunned and horrified. Are they right? Is that all true. He’s terribly afraid it might be.

Buck smiles soft, eyes still worried.

“It’s ok to go look for him.”

His words get stuck for a moment but this is Buck. He can say this to him.

“What if I don’t like him when I find him? What if he’s … not normal?”

“What’s normal huh? And seems unlikely- I think I know the real Eddie Diaz a little bit at least and he’s pretty great. Always will be.”

Buck’s close enough to touch now. He really wishes he would. He’d like a hug.

“Eddie, your life gave you no room to look for what you truly want for yourself. You have to do that now or I’m scared what might happen to you. You need time and space..”

“I don't want to be alone.”

The words leave his lips scared and true and then he gets something he wants for himself for the first time in a long time as Buck folds him into a hug.

He gets to be held while Buck speaks quietly.

“You won’t be. You got me. You’ll always have me. You told me I could have you back any day, well it’s any day and here I am - I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a lot to deal with, think about but maybe he can do it with help.

“Promise?”

Buck’s body shakes with a laugh

“Pinky promise and Maddie would kill me if I broke one of those.

“He’ll come back?”

Eddie lets himself be held and given comfort by the only person who could. Which is probably something else he needs to think about.

“Of course he will, this is his home, you’re his Dad.”

He can share his fears with this man, he knows that he has before and he does again now.

“I don’t know if I know how to be anything else.”

Buck’s arms tighten around him.

“I know, but you’ll work it out cos even if you’re not sure who Eddie Diaz is, I am and I know he can do anything.”

Buck sounds so sure, maybe he’s right, maybe with help and time he can work out who he really is and what he really wants and then once he knows that, maybe he can find it.

Buck keeps holding him, keeps believing in him and that he can do anything even find happiness.

Maybe he can and maybe he won’t have to look very far.

[sugarcubetikki]

If you didn’t know, Christian Linke recently said that they weren’t intending to make Jayce and Viktor romantic but just to show a really close relationship between men which they believe is underrepresented in media.

Of course, as expected, antis have taken this as a way to shut down gay interpretations and bring up how “romanticising a relationship that is meant to be brotherly demeans it”. It is definitely important to have relationships that depict multiple forms of love and yes at its core we can all agree that Jayce and Viktor are two men who love each other.

I believe that despite what Christian Linke says, the way one chooses to interpret that love ultimately falls on the viewer, as their relationship/love can resonate with people in many different ways.

I personally view Jayvik to be partners, friends and lovers because it resonates with me as a queer fan. I personally see a lot of queercoding in the way they were written and that makes it hard for me to perceive them as not having a romantic love.

For example:

Viktor being shown to take Mel’s place in many scenes like Jayce hallucinating him with after Mel and he’s wearing her black eyeshadow.

Mel x Jayce sex scene overlaps with the scene of Viktor becoming entwined with the Hexcore in a way that it makes it difficult for you to even focus on Mel and Jayce.

Amanda mentioning that Viktor was projecting his relationship with Jayce onto Sky this season - the whole science-y bond.

Viktor making the “this is not the bedroom” joke when Mel catches him and Jayce trying to sneak into the lab.

This all resonates with me as queer comphet and their love for each other being superior to that of their romantic interests also feels very queer for me.

And I have the right to interpret them in that way. I respect the way Christian Link interprets them and has shown to depict them but I personally do not see their relationship in the same way and I believe characters are just as much as the audience’s as they are the creators so my interpretation is also valid.

(Also, creators genuinely don’t always agree with each other and they differ in opinions when it comes to interpretations of characters/relations whilst Christian Linke may not see their love as romantic. I believe there might be other creators who do which could explain some of the ambiguity in their scenes).

Also, to the antis, queer love is also a valid form of love, it can exist with/without physical intimacy and still be queer.

Perceiving Jayvik as queer does not demean their love for each other at all. Perceiving them as having a platonic or brotherly bond isn’t wrong either. All forms of love are pure. Queer or not. Jayce and Viktor’s love for each other is pure and can be seen no matter how you interpret it.

The beauty of a story or a piece of art is enabling the perceived to interpret it in a way it resonates with them and it may not be what the creator intended and it may not be what resonates with you but it is still a valid interpretation.

That is to say I also respect platonic readings of their relationship despite not personally seeing it because you have the right to interpret them in the way you want to. And I am asking you to do the same for me and give me the right to interpret them in the way I want to.

[tippenfunkaport]

"She-Ra is bad bisexual rep because all the bi/pan characters end up in m/f relationships!"

Not true! Perfuma is bi/pan and she ends up with Scorpia!

"Oh, well I like to headcanon Perfuma as a lesbian."

...so then you understand that's not the show's fault, right? That that's just a problem you made up in your head?

-

Excuse me a second, I need to scream about this...

Because this has come up over and over (esp on Twitter and TikTok) with people who want to claim that every bi/pan SPOP character ends up in a m/f relationship... by conveniently pretending Perfuma is not canonically bi/pan herself. And every time they are asked to elaborate why they are ignoring her canon status, they give the same answer: that they consider Perfuma a lesbian because now that she's with a woman, she's "not bi anymore"

And... yeah... you know that's not how it works, right? That being bi/pan is not just a phase you get over? That a bi/pan woman dating another woman doesn't suddenly make her a lesbian any more than it makes a bi/pan person dating someone of the opposite gender magically straight?

The person you are currently dating does not change your bi/pan status. Ever. And insisting it does, especially just so you can score some points by making up an issue about a show to be mad about, is super GD harm harmful to the real bi/pan people in your life.

(This is the exact same thing The Owl House fandom does with Lumity and why Dana had to make Luz present a whole slideshow in the cartoon reminding everyone she is still very much bi even though Amity is a lesbian. TOH fans kept insisting because Luz is dating Amity now, she's a lesbian. Nope. Her and Amity can be married for a billion years and that wouldn't change Luz's orientation.)

"But I heard that someone's roommate's cousin who worked with someone on the show once liked a fanart that showed Scorfuma with the lesbian flag so it's basically canon!"

First of all, the legend of this grows daily and I think it's really telling that this archival obsessed fandom only talks about this mythical like and yet has never been able to produce a single screenshot of it.

But for the sake of argument, let's say that this really happened and actually exists, that someone related to the show, however distantly, liked fanart once that implied Perfuma was a lesbian somehow. That still doesn't make it canon. People related to the show and even ND himself have liked and reblogged all sorts of stuff that isn't canon, including g/a, and have been very clear that the only canon is what happens within the show itself.

And, in the show, Perfuma is canonically bi/pan. We see her crushing on Bow, She-Ra, Huntara and Scorpia. The fact that people want to pretend the Bow thing never happened when he's the only character we see her actually date over the run of the show AND it's a major Season 1 plot point is wild to me and just shows the lengths people will go for bi/pan erasure.

And I get that some people enjoy using Perfuma to tell a story about comphet or coming out as a lesbian later in life and I am fully in favor of doing your thing with your headcanons in fanworks. But when it reaches the point it has now where fans are attacking other fans for saying Perfuma is bi/pan or attacking the show for not having any bi/pan character in same sex relationships when Perfuma is CANONICALLY bi/pan is ridiculous. 

Keep in mind that your headcanon is literally just something you made up in your head. It's pretend. Fun, yes, but NOT something you can use as justification to attack people over!

Especially when it's something like this that causes real world harm by perpetuating harmful stereotypes about bi/pan people being "just a phase" or a temporary state that changes based on who you date.