#i just think things are better when it’s about dykes

[acheronist]

🫡🖤

[capaldiera]

it's soooooo embarrassing that my mum knows i like twelveclara. and she was in the room for last christmas which is embarrassingly close to being explicitly romantic. keep that shit more unsaid please

[rkiveinmarvel]

upon a different life - james bucky barnes des. barnes never trusted you, not once. but upon a different life, he would. notes. angst/comfort, establishing relationship, slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, i miss bucky, avengers being siblings (and weak for plot),mentions of violence,

hello! it's my bucky fic! i had a bucky fic back then but I deleted it anyway, this was supposed to be a one part but i got carried away, enjoy barnes knowing you! *i wrote this around 3am so, if i have some mistakes, i'm sorry!!*

(part i) (part ii) | w.c: 3.5k

James Buchanan Barnes is slowly getting used to in living with Avengers and the era he is in, in general, he enjoys the slowly yet steady step to forgive himself and earn forgiveness to those people around him as well familiarizing the more advanced world, but nightmares and remarks of his past action come and go; everyone notices it, especially his friend Steve Rogers, but despite this minor setback, he still move forward because it’s not every day, that you die in the 80s and woke up 75 years later. 

In terms of forgiving, the sergeant doesn’t know if the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist have forgiven him—it’s not a secret Stark gives the money and sponsor on the compound they live in but despite his hesitation to live with them, Stark still offered him—it might be a silent agreement with Rogers but somehow, Barnes hopes Stark acknowledges how sorry he was. 

But among other things, he wishes he can finally get used to. He finds himself not getting used to you. Even the entire team knows how much James hates you; to you, it’s no secret: you’re his last handler afterall and if the tables are different, you would hate Barnes too. Before Zemo took control of Barnes as Winter Soldier, you were his last boss, a menace actually, you would let him be used. He gets used by someone, you get rich, a simple deal between HYDRA and you. But that changed, when the Winter Soldier regained his memory; with no leverage in making a deal with HYDRA, the Black Widow offered you a place to stay.

It was a nice place, really, a lot nicer than the one you lived in, except, maybe for the fact that you’re still under someone jurisdiction: while the sergeant is able to roam around the city, you keep staring at the wonderful electronic tag in your ankle: in your deduction, you believe that the Avengers are only keeping you alive because of what you know—it’s not even sympathy why the Black Widow offered you stay with them, it’s more of a business. 

From the moment you receive glares from everyone in the room, you know damn well that this is just another business. So, it is indeed a surprise, when the A.I enters your room.

“Ha, did Stark send you to check on me again, Vision?” You asked as the artificial intelligence gave you a look. Despite the team’s lack of enthusiasm with you, Vision, Clint, and Thor are the only ones who seem to talk to you. You have talks with Natasha, Tony, and Bruce as well, but it is more of a business than a talk. 

“No, I was wondering if you wish to join me, Clint, and Wanda to watch Dick Van Dyke, she seems very excited about it.”

“What makes you think she wants me to join you guys?” You asked hypothetically.

Vision nodded as he glanced at your electronic tag. “If it makes you feel better, they don’t really hate you that much. In my defense, I think you only did the things you have done because you want to survive.” You scoffed as you said that. 

“Well, tell that to Sergeant Bar–” but Vision cut you off. “People won’t always use you. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you realize you’re more than just a HYDRA pawn.” You stared at him, as he continued. “At least, that’s what I observed with Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thanks, Vision.” You gave a bland smile, as he left your room. A part of you wants forgiveness, but for someone who learnt life in a hard way, you’re hesitating to give this one a try. Yet for once, a robot was more human than you.

A year after an endless discussion between the Avengers, they decided to remove the electronic tagging and let you roam freely, but still under their jurisdiction. Somehow, Stark and Banner acknowledge your knowledge while the rest give respect to your fighting ways and quick judgment; well, all of them are getting used to you. Well, maybe except for Bucky. Steve told you it takes time, but to your knowledge, it won’t take time because it won’t happen. You accepted the terms that Barnes will not and never forgive you, you don’t blame him though, mostly you blame yourself.

In this scene, you finally learn to adjust, not going out of your room if he was outside, not training–the same time as him, and definitely not talking to him; even a spare glance, felt like a struggling pain of unforgiven lingering. The team respected Barnes more than they respected you, but somehow, it felt like you finally belonged to something. Well, atleast, that’s what you thought.

Their mission to infiltrate HYDRA failed terribly, despite the information you gave them, they weren’t prepared and outnumbered. Despite their failure, they were able to take a hit on HYDRA’s camp, it’s not much but still affected HYDRA. As the quinjet landed on the hangar, the medical team supported those who were injured. A lot of them were, including those who sometimes get out without a scratch.

In the med bay: you saw Clint and Sam—they somehow, took a toll, as you walked further, you saw the entire team taking care of their small cuts, with them helping another, they were able to close the wounds, well, maybe except for the Winter Soldier—or as they call him the White Wolf. On the back of his right shoulder, he was bleeding badly, despite having all the needed things to tend his wounds around him, he sat on the bed feeling out of place, besides it’s only a shoulder wound. 

Due to the lack of people in the med bay, you offered help in the team. As you finished to tend some of the team’s wounds including Rogers’ and Romanoff’s. Your eyes met a struggling Bucky Barnes, grasping his right shoulder with his metal arm. Your footsteps were slow as you walk towards him.

“...Do you need help?” He wanted to say no, everything part of him says no, but as he glanced that there’s no person who can help him in his injury, he nodded. Afterall, you’re also the one who patches him up whenever he gets injured in his missions back then.

You carefully clean his wound as you tend him, you wipe the dirt and the things visible that might infect the wound, as you try to start a talk. “Was it bad out there? In the mission, I mean..” He just let out a grunt, which you expected, but he replied with. “They have three more Super Soldiers and one enhanced, just like Wanda.”

You didn’t respond, just continued stitching his wound. As you finish, you put on some bandages as he asked. “Did you know?” Barnes asked.

“Did you know about the Super Soldiers?” He asked again, for a quick moment, you realized that he is still an assassin, you felt his anger and bloodlust. At that moment, you wish you didn’t work with HYDRA. In truth, you didn’t know where they were but you knew HYDRA didn’t stop making them. But your stuttering left the Sergeant furious even more.

“I–I..” That was the only thing you could say when you suddenly felt his metal hand around your neck, at other times this can be hot and daring, but at this time, you were damn sure that the Sergeant would be able to crack your neck: he could kill you. The team in the med bay immediately sat up. 

“Buck, put her down.” You assumed it was Rogers who was talking to the Sergeant. As it was getting hard to breath, James starts to explain that you knew there were Super Soldiers, in that Rogers asked you. 

“Did you actually know?” Barnes shook you, as you met the Captain’s eyes. “I did.” Before James finally kills, you continue. “I didn’t know they were stationed there.”

If this was a HYDRA facility, they would’ve shot you despite you telling the truth, Wanda nodded, a confirmation that you were telling the truth. Steve asked Bucky to let go of you, with an angered stare, he let go. As you try to catch your breath, you notice some of the bandage of Rogers came off. You reached your hand to help him but a metal hand covered your wrist. 

“Stop pretending to be a good guy, we know you’re глупая игрушка of HYDRA.” He grabs your wrist tighter. “You’re not even part of the team.” That was the last straw, you pulled your wrist away, as you searched for someone to stand with you but all you saw was them looking away from you, even Vision. You nodded as you felt some tears sting. You never actually belonged in the team. Just like Barnes said, a глупая игрушка. 

A stupid toy.

Stark spotted you, making tea in the middle of the night. “So, you’re the one that’s drinking tea.” His voice echoed in the empty kitchen. You nodded as you asked him if he wanted some, as he nodded. “Heard what happened.”

“Of course, you do.” Stark eyed you as you finally sat down and Stark rolled his eyes. “I forgave Terminator a while ago.” You looked at him.

“I know he took everything from me, but, I guess it’s just the way it is…Pepper is really good at convincing , I give her that, well, maybe because we–”

“Are pregnant…?” You asked, in which Stark immediately shook his head and chuckled. “Well, no, but, I just want peace, you know.” 

“That’s a bit out of character.” You commented. “Ah, the secret service have their humor.” The billionaire chuckled. As he glanced at the stair towards the rooms. “You did not know about the soldiers but, the information you gave was really helpful. We can start with that.” As Stark stood up. He added.

“Oh, and next time, make sure you suit up. You can tag along in the mission if you want, secret service.” Stark walked away with a smug smirk. “You sure, they’ll allow me in the field, Mr. Stark?”

“Maybe not. But, we have a higher chance of winning if they don't know what they’re up against.” He said as he left. But, when the morning comes, there’s no trace of you—only the cup of tea you shared with Tony and a room filled with your stuff, as well as, a folder with all of HYDRA’s information and coordinates in sticky notes. As the team assembled, they wondered if you were stolen from them or you were actually planning to betray them a long time ago.

And there’s only one way to find out.

As the Avengers rode the quinjet, Stark drove peacefully as Romanoff shared her side. “Steve, if we do this and see her there, we can’t save them like we did back then.”

“We didn’t save her, Romanoff. We used her…” Steve added. “But, you guys cared for them too.” His eyes fall on Bucky. “Buck, I know this is—”

“It’s a mission. As long as we’re done. I don’t care what happens to them.” James added.

As they reach the base of HYDRA, with the coordinates in the folder, they immediately search for you, but to their mistake, they fall right into a trap. Not even their strongest and the witch was able to see the trap, as they sat and chained in chairs, Natasha cracked a joke.

“This is probably their revenge.” In which none of them find them funny. Especially the guy with a metal arm. As the time passes with the endless blabbering of the man on the computer, lights and warning signs alarmed the area: as the Avengers look for an escape. It was an unfamiliar site, even for Bucky, all of the soldiers on HYDRA are getting deployed, what could possibly be the reason? As the chain, holding the Avengers finally loose, they stood up immediately, they ran in the door meeting you.

“ROGERS?!” You asked breathlessly. They were all confused but much more concerned about the blood painting your entire body. “Oh, it’s not mine.” You said in a smile. “We have to run, quinjet is outside the building.” As the team sprinted outside, surprise to see the number of bodies you took down. 

“You took them all down?” Natasha asked as the quinjet was finally visible. “Ah, yeah. I was raised by them so, nevermind, we have to go.”

It was going so well, but in the escape, a lot of missiles were aimed at the quinjet, as you, Sam, Tony, Wanda, and Sergeant Barnes fought the trailing jet in the back of quinjet, James rode a jet that is about to crash with another, he dodged the explosion but fell unconscious. Without thinking, you jumped out of the quinjet to save his unconscious body, hoping it’s water underneath all the chaos. 

As the cold temperature of water hit you, you swam to get the sergeant’s body. People in quinjet knew what happened, but in the height of the situation, they had no choice but to continue to flee; hope to save the sergeant and you, tomorrow.

The sergeant woke up in a bed made of leaves and an open night-sky. As he familiarize with his surroundings, he saw the heat radiating from a bonfire and you sitting by the shore. It was as if you sensed him.

“You’re finally awake.” You said as you walked towards him; he immediately tensed up. “Oh, right.” you placed the sugarcane on the sand as you sat down. “Tony would probably search for us tomorrow, once the sky is cleared.” You added but he is still weary of your presence. 

“What’re you playing at?” He asked, as you looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You being a goody-two-shoes, you know, none of us trust you.” He added finally, grabbing the sugar cane munching it. “And now, you leaving and suddenly appearing at the HYDRA facility, makes you more of a traitor than a help to us, so, what’s really your play?”

“...I want to help—”

“You have a funny way of showing it…” He grumbled as you replied. When you hear him grumble, you grab a swiss knife in your pocket, as you did when he was on guard but then, you place it on the sand and look at him. “I wasn’t there because I wish to betray anyone, I was there because…..” 

You sighed and looked at him. “I wanted to apologize to you. What I did in those years is unforgivable, hell, even I would be angry if I was in your position. I wanted to apologize to you and your family, the one you grew up with. I want to see if HYDRA knows about them, in that way, I can apologize for manipulating Winnifred’s only son and Rebecca’s only brother.” 

Bucky stared at you. “But who am I kidding, it is full of shit..I just really hoped because—I finally felt like I was part of a team. It’s a bit much, right? I was ahead of myself.” You chuckled. As you stare at the sea, you continue. “The swiss knife will be there, do whatever you want with it. Whether you used it for survival or against me, it’s up to you.” You smiled at Bucky.

“This probably will make you hate me even more but it truly means everything, I am really sorry, Bucky.” 

That was the first time he heard you mutter his name. His first time seeing you smile. His first time hearing you say sorry; his first time seeing you.  As the night grew deeper, you fell asleep, except for the guy with a metal arm, he fidgeted with the swiss knife and kept glancing at you. He has you, he can kill you, revenge. With a lot of contemplation; balancing his morals, he stood up, gripping the swiss knife tightly and went to your sleeping body.

He was really thankful that you were asleep.

You watch from upstairs as you see the God of Thunder, the White Wolf, and Captain America struggle with their new phone given by Stark.

“10 Bucks says Barnes will break it.” Sam told you as he stood watching the three as well. “20 Bucks says Odinson will be the one who will break it.” You added; to anyone’s surprise, it was Steve who made the screen crack. 

“Dammit.” Sam muttered as you noticed his suit. “Got a date or something?” Sam just nodded and said something about meeting his sister in the bank, as he left, you called Barnes out. “Sergeant, we’re losing daylight, let’s go.” You said as he ran upstairs, leaving the compound as well, with you next to him. 

He grips the swiss knife tightly, as he walks to your unconscious body as he shakes you awake.  “Hey.” he muttered slowly: “Did you find them? Rebecca, I mean…” In your state, you would have said something random but as you met his eyes, he was just pleading as you nodded, he retracted the knife and handed it to you. 

“Go say your apologies to them then. Bring me to them.” In that he awkwardly smiled but was sincere. “Okay.” As he went to his side on the sand, he then sighed, “It means everything, Thanks for saying that.” With a soft heart, you slept soundly and Barnes did too as the sand felt more like the best bed in town.

As you drive, Barnes asks how you find his family. “It was more of how HYDRA hid it, what surprised me is that—they don’t pick dead bodies up in the 40s?” In that, Bucky eyed you. “What do you mean? I fell of the—”

“If I was like one of the bosses, I would’ve.” Bucky sighed. “It was war back then, it was better to leave them, I guess.” You sighed and acknowledged his explanation. As you two reach Brooklyn, his eyes wander. “First time back in Brooklyn?” he nodded as he explained how different times were. He wasn’t talkative much, but you saw how his eyes lit up when the corners of Brooklyn hit him home. As we reach the cemetery, you glance at the grave.

“This is Rebecca’s and your Mom’s. I couldn’t find anything on your father, I’m sorry.” As Barnes walked out the car with flowers in his hand, you watched him but then he opened your door, “Aren’t you going to apologize to them too?” You smiled and got out of the car, “I did say that.”

We stayed there for a few minutes, as Bucky walked to get something in the car, he heard your voice talking to them as if they were still alive, it felt new to him, this side of you, it’s more warmer than before. He walks cautiously as he slowly hears a bit of your words. “Rebecca and Mrs. Barnes you have an amazing brother and a son.” 

Despite everything and hate lurking in his chest towards you, his painful experience, he was willing to give this forgiveness a shot, because he was a human and not a machine. 

As the two of you drove back to the compound, the silence was now replaced with a calmer one, which Bucky glanced at you. “Something wrong?” He asked you. 

“No, it’s just, I don’t know what we should talk about, I’m still getting used to this too. Food that is warm, going to places that don't require guards, a bit warmer home, and bright home, and a house full of people, still getting used to it, I guess.” You explained.

“Well, me and you are on the same boat.” He added assuring you. The ride back was more of a relaxed one, as you heard Bucky’s stomach growl. “We should eat something.” Before he could protest, you parked the car and you two went inside a diner. 

As you two sat, you kept glancing at the machine on the edge of the table, as you saw Bucky eyeing it as well. “What is it?” You asked him, as he cleared his throat. “A Jukebox.” but your lack of response made him look at you. “You don’t know what—”

You shook your head. “Well, with HYDRA raising me I only know the static radio.” You explained, looking away awkwardly. “Oh, it’s a music box, like a vinyl but you need a quarter to play a song.” He explained as you nodded. “I have a quarter.” As you give him the quarter, he signals you to press a button to play music.  As you two eat a meal in the diner: the low volume of Chet Baker’s I Never Been In Love Before plays, it is safe to say that two people felt more human than before and a lingering warm feeling in their chest. Safe to say, they’ve never been in love before.

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3

[yameoto]

stoner!ali x cheerleader!reader. everybody says to stay away from the miller dyke in the muddy jeans and flannel over her hoodie, walking around with a perpetual cig in her mouth, lighter in her pocket. some of them are scared of her. as if they don’t give her shit for just existing. it’s been happening for so long she couldn’t give a fuck, anymore. she ditches half the time, anyways. as far as most people go, she’s invisible.

you, though. you’re curious. you’re supposed to be watching your boyfriend’s football practice, like a good, supportive girlfriend. but really, you’re watching the local burn out toke it up under the bleachers. entranced by the smoke pouring from her lips, the sheen over her eyes, the upwards angle of her jaw as she takes a lazy drag.

when you first approach her, alison’s wary. because what does a pretty little cheerleader like you want to do with a social outcast like her?

“you know what? to hell with it.” ali snorts, and then you’re crammed in the shotgun of her pickup truck and hightailing it out of the school parking lot. pulls over, some halfway deep in the forest, and for a second you think oh, fuck. the rumours are true. this bitch is crazy. except, then she just pulls out a tightly-packed joint and offers it up, grin lopsided. at your expression, her eyebrows shoot upwards.

“don’t tell me i’m takin’ your pot virginity, sweetheart.” then, at your ensuing, flushed silence “oh, shit. i am, aren’t i?”

“well, you don’t have to sound so smug about it.” you snap, snatching the thing out of her hand as she whistles lowly.

“your daddy gonna get me trouble for this?” ugh. she’s so snarky. you almost regret getting in the car with her, cuffing shoulder with a scoff, as she just throws her head back and laughs, deep and throaty and it sparks something burning in your gut. her eyes are on you, posture opening up as she settles into this new, new dynamic. you struggle to flick the lighter thrice before you finally succeed. your warning glare is enough for her no to comment, hands raised in mock submission.

it takes approximately seven minutes of hotboxing, before you’re throwing yourself in her lap. her hazy eyes widen when you straddle her. fist her collar and seize her in the sloppiest kiss of your life. her lips part, speechless, and it’s when your tongue slips it’s way into her pliant mouth that she pushes you back.

“don’t you got a boyfriend?” she croaks, like it matters. her voice is all hoarse, fingers twitching like she’s itching to yank you back, despite being the one to push you away.

you do have a boyfriend. he’s the quarterback. how cliché could you get? nobody’s going anywhere in this town, anyways.

“yeah,” you gasp, hands tugging on her collar again, impatient, lungs burning, eyes glassy. “got a problem with that?”

there’s a war in her eyes, for a split second, before she grunts, and then her hands seize your ass under that tight little skirt of yours and pulls you even flusher against her lap. your boyfriend’s a dickhead to her, anyways. what better vengeance than fucking his girl in the middle of his precious football game?

so, she does. fingers sliding up and dragging away panties with deft precision, for how stoned she is. mutters, “jesus, you’re the hottest piece of ass til’ the next county.“ in your ear as she stretches you wide open with her fingers, free hand groping your ass as she nuzzles between your tits like she’s starved. the windows are already fogged up, which means—when your legs kick high on either side of her body, and she jerks her fingers the same time her teeth tug at your nips—she could give less of a shit when you splatter all over her car window. moaning so fucking loudly, because you’re in the middle of the woods in alison miller’s pickup truck and your pretty pussy has never been treated quite so good before.

(when the clarity sets in, and the high starts to fade. you’re collapsed against her sweaty, shirtless form, and you peel a stray hockey jersey off the back of the seat, elbow knocking against discarded cigarette packs and empty beer bottles. a poorly concealed bong.

“do you clean, ever?” you grumble, into ali’s collar. a low rumble comes in her chest, amused, as she plucks your soaked panties and dangles them up in the light.

“hey, i didn’t expect to be gettin’ cheerleader pussy, today.”

you swat her hand down with a hiss. and she ducks away, laughing that stupid, raspy, butterfly-inducing laugh. maybe the millers aren’t so bad.)

[doberbutts]

(Different anon here.) I'm intersex and I DESPISE the TMA/TME terms. Transmisogyny and transandrophobia are both useful terms, but neither is "worse," and neither is somehow exclusive. I know trans women who get mistaken for trans men, I know trans men who get mistaken for trans women, I know nonbinary people who get mistaken for both, I know other intersex people who get mistaken for whatever pisses people off the most in that moment.

I get called both a dyke and a faggot from car windows, despite being neither WLW or MLM. I get called a tranny every couple of days, despite the fact that I identify as intersex, NOT transgender!

Nobody CARES what my actual identity is, they just know I've got a body that doesn't "look right," so I'm fair game to harass and abuse. Do I get to call myself TMA despite not being a trans woman? Am I somehow TME despite the fact that I experience what is objectively transmisogyny? I'm not a trans man, I'm not a trans woman, I'm not transmasc, I'm not transfemme--I'm intersex!

Watching perisex trans people play these weird pissing contest games where they try to decide who's most oppressed, while all of them are throwing intersex people under the bus...ugh. Perisex people, do better. Why are trans spaces so fixated on preserving the fucking sex binary?

Out of all of the asks I got, that's pretty close to my frustration with the whole thing honestly. Perhaps because I also am intersex and thus my experience is a bit different than others as well, but I've always been really aware of what lines I have to toe in order to not get hatecrimed in broad daylight. The lines were recently redrawn due to my transition but the learning process has been... rough... as things that I used to have to do are now things that actively create danger for me, and visa versa.

I have another ask in my inbox about the binary thing and I mentioned it when I first joined this discussion about how not every trans person easily fits into "trans fem" and trans masc" and I'm wondering not only what this arguing thinks of trans neutrals and multigender people but also how left out they must feel in this entire thing. Forcibly assigned one way or the other despite fighting to not have to deal with that, or altogether erased and silenced from the discussion.

In my refusal to allow trans men to be erased from conversations that affect them, I need to be careful not to erase mascs, neutrals, and more. I'm not always the best at it, but I think it is important that the effort is there.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Graphic sex, oral, fingering, language, homophobia, homophobic slurs. Word count: 2,443 "Onions and relish!?" you observed, watching Casey scoop condiments onto a ballpark hot dog. Your face screwed up. "Gross."

"I've got highbrow taste," Casey retorted, glancing at yours. "And you shouldn't talk. Ketchup and mustard? Are you five?"

"It's a classic," you argued, both pushing your way through the crowded line of Yankees fans waiting for their own ballpark snacks.

You returned to your seats, up in the nosebleeds along with a scattering of other die-hard baseball fans, the humming of a summertime crowd and the buzzing of the lights wrapping around you like a blanket. You heard the crack of a bat, and both you and Casey froze, watching the field.

"Yes!" you yelled, pumping your fist in the air as your team–the Cardinals–drove in another run. "Fuckin' Redbirds!"

Normally, you'd be a lot more self-conscious about drawing attention to yourself in a crowd like this–almost exclusively Yankees fans, including your girlfriend. When the Yankees weren't playing the Cardinals, you wore some of Casey's Yankees gear and cheered them on with her. But the Cardinals? They'd been your family's team for generations. You'd grown up on Pujols and Molina and Wainwright, and you were nothing if not loyal. But in this crowd, you stood out amongst the black-and-white like a red thumb. Casey had looked embarrassed, and you'd worried for a moment that she really was bothered by your vocal support of the away team.

"Am I embarrassing you?" you'd asked.

"Yes."

"In a bad way?"

Casey looked at you and smiled at your serious expression. "No, honey. Like, embarrassing but it's endearing. Does that make sense?"

You thought about it for a moment. "I think so. You would tell me if I was bad embarrassing?"

"I would," she confirmed, patting your hand.

It was one of your favorite things about Casey that she was so patient when you misread or didn't understand social cues. She never made fun of you. She always explained, and she always reassured you when you were afraid you'd done something wrong.

But this time it was definitely Casey who had done something wrong. You watched her shove a bite of hot dog into her mouth, beautifully messy, as always when she wasn't at work.

"Your whole mouth is gonna taste like pickles for the rest of the night," you muttered, taking a bite of your own hot dog.

She looked at you, smirking. "And why are you so concerned about my mouth, huh?"

You blushed. "No reason..."

"Mmhm." She took another bite, smug, then grasped your chin, pulling you to her for a kiss. Her lips were salty with sweat, and she smelled like the ballpark dust and the leather of her glove. She was intoxicating, but then you always felt lightheaded when Casey kissed you. Something about the stadium lights and the summer heat just made you that much more dazed.

"That's fuckin' hot," you heard someone say behind you. You shrank and glanced back, Casey's hand squeezing yours protectively. Two men, unshaven, with beers to go with their beer bellies, leered at you from the row behind.

"Nobody asked you, asshole," Casey shot back, flipping him off. You avoided eye contact with them, trying to make yourself smaller. Having grown up in the south, you'd been in enough unsafe situations because of your sexuality that your go-to defense was to ignore and hide. Casey's was not. She was tall and strong, and she'd grown up with absolute confidence in who and what she was.

Your nostrils flared in disgust as one of the men licked his lips, raking his eyes up and down Casey's body.

"What's a hot piece like you doing with a dyke? You oughta let a real man take you for a spin."

Casey stood and pushed him–hard. The man reeled, sloshing his beer all over his front. "You better shut your fucking mouth or I'll shut it for you," she growled.

The man's arm shot out, grabbing Casey by the back of her head. He dug his fingers into her hair to pull her closer. "That's okay, honey," he said. "I like 'em feisty."

Any fear you had dissipated into white hot anger as you watched, as if in slow motion. You, however, were not stuck in slow motion. Without thinking, you lunged forward, grabbed the man's wrist, and wrenched it back until he squealed. You shoved Casey behind you.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" you spat, puffing yourself up as you stood between him and your girlfriend. Which, considering your diminutive height, probably didn't do a whole lot to deter him.

Your teeth clenched and your whole body buzzed with rage. It took a lot to make you angry, but you were spitting angry now. All you knew was that no one–no one–was going touch Casey on your watch.

The man laughed, knocking your cap off your head with a swipe of his finger. "And what are you gonna do about it, Tiny Tim? Or should I say Tiny Tina?"

Without warning and, for once, without considering the consequences, you slammed your first into his groin as hard as you could which, considering you played softball, was pretty damn hard. It was a perk of your height that you were at the optimal angle to punch someone in the dick.

The man doubled over, coughing, and spilled the rest of his beer. "Fuckin' dykes," he muttered. He motioned to his friend, cupping his balls, and they sidled off. Probably looking for another section to harass women in.

You let out a shaky breath and turned to face Casey, your heart beating rapidly as the adrenaline faded and the nerves returned.

"Are you okay?" you asked, frantically looking her over, placing a gentle hand at the back of her head where the man had grabbed her.

You hardly noticed Casey watching you, biting her lip. You were too concerned with making sure she was safe and unharmed. As you rambled, checking her hands and neck and hair and face for any signs of hurt, Casey stared.

Finally, she interrupted you. "Y/N."

You stopped and made yourself meet her eyes.

"I think we should go." She looked at you pointedly.

You face fell. "Oh, love. I'm so sorry. We can go home if it'll make you feel better."

"No, that's not why."

A look of confusion crossed your face.

"We should go home because we have things to do."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't understand what you're saying, Casey."

She stepped closer, placing your hat back on your head and her arms on your shoulders. Her expression was self-satisfied as she leaned in, so close you could feel her breath, and whispered into your ear.

"Y/N," she breathed. "I need to do things. To you. Now."

"Oh," you said, the realization hitting you. "Oh my god. Okay."

You started gathering your things, then stopped and glanced at her. "From this? Really?"

"Y/N," she said, cheeks already flushed. "Don't make me wait. I'm gonna have a hard enough time making it home."

You tried to hide the mixture of shock and excitement on your face as you left the stadium, walking by the now abandoned concession stands and into the quiet parking lot.

"What's the alternative?" you asked her as you climbed into the driver's seat.

"What?"

"To making it home. You said you were gonna have a hard time making it home. But, like, where else would we–"

You were cut off by Casey's lips on yours, her breath hot and desperate as she grabbed your collar. She slid her tongue into your mouth, her teeth clacking against yours as she surged toward you, pushing for more.

When you separated, you both breathed heavily. Casey's face was flushed with lust. "If it were up to me," she said, leaning back in the seat. "I would've fucked you in the ballpark bathroom. I'd take you right here in the car. But I know that's not your style, so for the love of god..." Her eyes bored into you. "Drive."

Usually a slow driver, you made it back to Casey's apartment in record time. And, true to her word, Casey did have a hard time making it to the apartment, stopping at every chance she got–stoplights, outside the car door, in the elevator, the hallway–to kiss your neck, your mouth, undoing buttons of your Cardinals jersey as you went. Her hands slipped inside your shirt whenever you stopped for so much as a second.

When she finally got you into her bedroom, she was ravenous, tugging your clothes off and tossing them to the side with a singular focus. Her eyes were glazed and her face red as she struggled with your bra clasps.

"Fucking hell," she muttered, her fingers fumbling.

"Jesus, Casey," you said, reaching back to do them for her. "Calm down."

She groaned, letting her eyes rove over your now nude body, pushing you gently but forcefully on your back. She pecked you on the lips, then took your bottom lip between her teeth. You gasped, filled with both pain and pleasure. When she let you go, she was grinning.

"I'm gonna make you feel so..." She kissed your neck. "Fucking." Your collarbone. "Good." She lowered herself over you and pressed her mouth into yours, breathing you in, letting her tongue roam freely.

You moaned, arching your back. "Don't hold back on me now," she growled, leaving bite marks down your neck and across your chest. Usually quiet, you gave yourself permission to make some noise. After all, it drove Casey crazy.

"Fuck, Casey," you whined as she swirled her tongue across your nipples, first one and then the other, her hands pressing just above your hips. You writhed into her, squirming for more, your center already sopping wet.

"Tell me what you want," Casey said, trailing her tongue from your chest down to your stomach.

You struggled against her hands, pressing you into the bed. "Come on," you complained, nearly begging.

"Tell me," Casey said again, more forcefully, her fingers grazing over your clit.

You saw stars. "Fuck me."

Casey chuckled, her low voice vibrating against your already swollen clit. "That's my girl."

You gasped as she sucked your clit between her lips, swishing her tongue back and forth, back and forth. Her arms pinned your thighs in place, holding your writhing body tight. You heaved and moaned as you pushed Casey's head into your center. Her hair was soft and damp with sweat under your fingers, and you felt desperate for her as you chased your high.

She waited until you were nearly bursting, your breath hitching and your back arched against her, then pulled quickly away, wiping her mouth.

You gasped frantically. "What the fuck, Casey!?"

"Shh," she commanded, crawling back up your body and grabbing your chin. She straddled your hips, her own soaked center resting over yours.

"Casey, please," you begged, your eyes fluttering shut, the need of her flooding you.

"Don't close your eyes, honey. Look at me."

You huffed but opened your eyes, staring defiantly into hers, green and hungry and lustful.

She held your face still with one hand, then crept back down your body with the other. You let out a moan, squirming.

"Now arch your back for me," she said, the heel of her palm pressing hard into your clit.

Your body nearly exploded with the sensation, and you thrust into her with everything you had. You grabbed at Casey, pulling her into you, elated to know that she was using you, too, unable to put off her own pleasure any longer.

Your breath came faster and faster, your body jerking into Casey as Casey thrust toward you. You watched each other, both on the brink of losing control. Casey moaned, shutting her eyes briefly before squeezing your chin and staring at you.

"Now," she said.

And that one word was all it took. Your body shook against Casey's, your hips riding into her again and again, desperate for the friction as you moaned. She did the same, her nails digging into the skin at the top of your throat as she rode out her own orgasm. It felt like the two of you were hurtling across space, starbursts and supernovas and whole galaxies flashing inside you as you held onto one another. You quivered against her as the fireworks dissipated, spent and sweaty and heaving.

Casey grinned and planted kisses across your collarbone, counting. "One. Two. Three..."

You laughed and groaned. "Casey," you protested.

She'd discovered early on that, if she timed it right, she could make you come indefinitely. The only thing that stopped her was you getting overstimulated.

"Twenty-two," she finished and, once again, pressed the heel of her hand into your clit, harder and harder until she had you ready again, your hands grasping the bedsheets.

Your orgasm washed over you again, like a wave this time, pouring over you from head to toe.

Casey started in again, this time with her lips at the back of your knees. "One. Two..."

By the fifth round, you were nearly delirious, and Casey was salivating.

"Casey," you groaned, your body still pressing into her hand, almost against your will. "It's too much."

"Come on, sweetheart," she said, kissing you roughly. "Give me one more."

She continued grinding her hand into you, meshing her lips with yours, her tongue roving. Your breath caught and you moaned into her mouth, your orgasm taking you over one final, quaking time.

Casey cradled your head in the crook of her arm as you continued to shake, finally letting you relax.

"Thank you," she whispered, peppering your face with kisses.

You scrunched your nose. "For what? Letting you beat your record?"

"Well, that, too." She chuckled, deep and throaty, then brushed your sweaty bangs out of your face. "For protecting me. From that asshole."

You turned to her and tucked her hair behind her ear, running your thumb across her eyebrow.

"I would die before I let someone hurt you." Your voice was so quiet that, had anyone else been in the room, even they wouldn't have been able to hear. But you did. And Casey did.

She looked at you for a moment, then leaned down and kissed your forehead, hard and purposeful.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too."

You lost yourself in her arms for a bit as she ran a hand absentmindedly through your hair.

"We should go to more baseball games," Casey mused after a while.

You laughed. "Only if there's no relish involved."

"Deal."

[duskier]

If you ever wrote the 141 getting bullied by Fem!ghost, the lesbianism in me would go wild I fear (so like…you should totally do it ist saying)

(I'm unsure if this was just for fem Ghost or full fem 141 forgive me fkdjsnd if it isn't good lmk and I'll do better for u <3)

cw cucking (??) cw exhibitionism!! this is just Ghost fucking reader to show the guys how its done

I won't lie I feel like I did good here

I'm so sorry but fem Ghost in a regular 141 sounds like dyke HELL imagine all of these bumbling idiots talking about women like they can take girls home and play them like a instrument when they can't spell clit let alone find it!!

And the second they catch wind that Ghost is a lesbian? They aren't homophobic by a long shot, but suddenly Ghost gets deeper into 'the boys club'. They wanna talk women with Ghost. It's weird, crude, and Ghost can't help but pity the women they all go home to. Soap always asks really invasive questions about how lesbian sex even works, a ton of porn-centric ideas that make Ghost roll her eyes. Gaz mainly wants to guess at Ghost's type in women, keeps showing her girls in his dating apps to see which one catches her eye. Price is obviously curious himself about Ghost's love life, but keeps the most quiet about it.

...Soap gets a ton of bravado when he's drunk. He likes to let loose when they go to bars close to base, usually it isn't too intolerable. But then he brags about how he's the best lay in his town, 'just ask any girl'. Gaz makes a joke about being internationally ranked, to which Price punches his shoulder. They all look when Ghost snorts incredulously.

"Aye? Think you'd do better with that plastic, Lt?" Soap points at her using his whiskey glass, a small drop spilling onto the table with his carelessness.

Ghost narrows her eyes at him. Part of her just wants to deck him, as much of a little brother as he was to her. "I know I would, Sergeant."

...It's your lucky night. Gaz spotted you first, lips missing his straw repeatedly as his eyes fixes on you leaning over the bar. Price sees you next, jostles Soap to get his attention.

But when you look over to their booth, the only person you're looking at is the woman in the balaclava. Black compression shirt not hiding an inch of her bulk, wide shoulders and stomach hanging just over her belt line. Carabiner on a belt loop, and you know you've got to at least try. You'd misread flags before thanks to the stupid military base being so close by, but the sight of Ghost... too tempting.

You can't see Ghost’s entire face, but you see her eyes crinkle when you shyly bring her a drink. Her friends across from her in the booth offer you a seat on their side, but before you can reply, Ghost is patting her thigh. It shouldn't make you so weak in the knees, but it does, so you quickly sit yourself on her thigh.

The men's eyes are wide, fixed on Ghost- how'd she get you under her spell so fast? You don't really notice their looks, too busy drinking in the smell of her cologne, a thrill shooting up your spine at the feel of her hand on your back.

...Ghost gets the idea first. None of the team protests, if anything their eyes grow hungrier. It doesn't take much convincing for you, either. It's a strange request, sure, for three men and one woman to want to take you back to a hotel for the night. But Ghost reassured you-

"None o'em will lay a hand on you, love, you'll just be mine. They just need t'see, learn how to do things right. You mind helping me show them?"

When you nod, mind already imagining what was to come, she cups your cheek with a gloved hand, thumb stroking your soft skin. "There's a good girl. You'll be perfect."

...Within an hour, Ghost's got you naked and compliant in a hotel room down the way. You'd forgotten about the men watching you entirely within only a few minutes of Ghost's bare hands pulling you onto your lap. With one hand she's spreading your ass apart while her other hand slips a finger or two in you. You're bracing yourself with your hands on her chest, gasping with your forehead pressed to hers as she finds every which way to make you feel good in that position.

You don't even have to tell her when you're close. Stars shining behind closed eyelids you can hear her whispering just for you, "Go on, let them see you, pretty thing. You deserve it, cum for me."

After your shocks have worn off, she's kissing you through her mask as she lays you down. Hands caressing and exploring, never in a rush. The only clothes she removes are her gloves and rolling up her balaclava. You're only passingly upset Ghost won't take her actual clothes off- you're sure it had something to do with the dynamic between her and her team- she looks damn good with her strap hooked over her jeans anyway.

You're salivating when she gets her knees on each side of your head. Thumb pressing down on her silicon cock, guiding it between your pretty lips. "Just gotta get it ready f'me pet, then I'll give you what you need."

Her quiet little words of encouragement are all you need, emboldening you to suck it like you're getting paid to, thighs clenching together at the sound of her grumbling praise.

The men aren't touching themselves, despite them straining in their pants and shifting every so often. Their eyes glued to you, your own eyes glued to Ghost as she pulls back, thumb wiping your spit-slick lips clean.

When she lines herself up with you, she doesn't immediately bully herself in. She grinds herself against you, focusing her mental energy on everywhere else. Licking your neck, biting your ear, whispering praises just for you while her fingers tug at your tits.

"Look like a fuckin' dream, love. So good for me, they don't even deserve to see you like this..."

It's when your chest is heaving, your face is flushed, and your nails are clawing her back that she rears her hips back, the plastic expertly catching and slipping into your needy cunt. "Just like that pet, just fuckin'- like that-"

She was so affected, sounded so hoarse, it sent butterflies through you as she started fucking into you. Ghost was like a damned machine, fucking you through orgasm after orgasm, your mewls and desperate cries filling the room. Her arms are so strong around you, she's tearing you apart and holding you together all the same. Like nothing you'd ever had before, and she knows it.

"Think of me, next time you're in bed- with any man like them, yeah? Remember what you could be having instead, call me when he's pumped and gone. I'll take care of you pet, like no man could."

The front of her jeans are soaked from you by the time you finally tap her arm, entire form shaking from exhaustion. Ghost immediately accepts it, pulling out and unhooking her strap as you giggle light-headed at the wet spot you left on her pants. She cleans you up, wet washcloth and all. You try to tell her you don't need it, but the lukewarm cloth soothes your tender parts like she said it would. Dresses you herself because frankly, you're still boneless.

Wraps you in her big warm coat that smells like her cigarettes, tells you kindly she's gonna get you home safe. To the men behind her, the men you couldn't care less about, the men all politely sitting with their hands folded in their laps, she barks, "Do what you will here, clean up when you're done. I'll see you back on base."

[kuethemoon]

iwtv fanfic friday: lesbianism onto the guys

@oldbutchdaniel I'm joining the fun. it's yuri time

two-headed mother by tisiphones // e, 8.6k

"Poor darling," Armand says, and the condescension in his voice is so awful and so offensive and Lestat wants to curl up in it and never, ever leave. "It's okay to let yourself be taken care of for just one night. You can't help what you need." It's Lestat's last night in Paris. Armand makes it a memorable one.

actually world changing. mommy issues galore it's sooo fun and this fic is part of several that got me into armandstat

super graphic ultra modern girl by armanddelioncourt // e, 0.9k

“I want to watch how you insert your tampon.” “Wha—No, you weirdo,” she glanced around the mercifully-deserted aisle. “You can’t just ask me that in the store!”

yummmmmy period blood fic!!! i love period blood fics sooo much and they're so cute

More than Neither by apoptoses // e, 6.2k

Annoying, how hot it is to see Armand kneeling on the dirty bathroom floor like this. Without her heels to compensate for their height difference she looks small, delicate. Her face is on the level with Daniel’s hips and Daniel knows what’s about to happen. Armand has probably been planning for this since they stepped into the store, she realizes. There’s no way she’d catch Daniel bleeding for the first time and let that go. (Daniel gets her period. Armand helps. Written for the Queens of the Damned prompt butch/femme.)

another period blood fic pls bartender! if I tip you can add them being freaky in a public toilet? thank you very much I'll take the lot pls!! the way daniel and armand handle being women and lesbians is so well written. dyke stamp of approval. if you're starting to notice a trend don't tell me

she loves me, she loves me not by IguessIllchangeitlater // e, 2.3k

“Sure,” she panted and raised her head, tried to find Armand’s eyes, but kept focusing on her fanged smile instead. “I will wear that fucking skirt.” Push out, push in, push out, push in, Daniela was going to come just from that, she was going to die. “I can’t-ah, I can’t wear my underwear with that, I would look silly.” Push in, push out. “Yes,” Armand agreed. She rested her head on the mattress, next to Daniela’s knee and busied herself with mouthing the blood that was still there. The blood that she drew earlier. “So, what’s the plan, boss?” Daniela managed to raise herself on her elbows. Armand’s beguiled eyes looked like that of a cat in the light of the night. “For the underwear situation?” “You will wear none, of course.”

butch daniel wearing a skirt because armand said so was an idea that bounced around in my head for a whole week so you know how excited I was to read this. hell yeah they're so bad to each other

sweet things for the sea by ulatraviolet_glow // e, 2.6k

Danielle Molloy, a runaway posing as a young man on a trading ship dreams of a better life, but when her dreams find her falling overboard and into the arms of the woman of her dreams, how disturbed will Dani be when she realises that the woman is not human at all, but a creature of the sea?

siren armand do you know how much you mean to meeeeee I lay awake at night thinking of you sinfully. siren armand...

one of your girls by sleepdeprivedsurgeon // m, 4.7k

“I was thinking maybe I’d go with my girlfriend,” Daniel says. Armand sucks in a breath, a familiar blend of excitement and fever rearing its head inside him. This isn’t new— nothing is, after nearly five centuries— but it’s certainly been a while. Louis doesn’t care what he looks like, what he is, just as long as he stays below him. On his knees in the endless confessional. Marius would dress him up sometimes: Helen of Troy, Cassandra, Mary Magdalene. When the painting was finished he’d push his skirts up and take him there in the studio.

technically not yuri but beautiful feminization + crossdressing armand and I had to put it here. special treat!

[groovebunker]

@wild-fleurs

oh boy. do i have nanny related hills to die on. please, get a drink, sit down, settle in.

cc is a lesbian. that's it. she's a dyke. a homosexual. not just because i like lesbians. i just think her behaviour is easy to read as comp het bc why else would you be that interested in maxwell sheffield?

maxwell sheffield is history's greatest monster. i hate max. max is at best an absent father, a lackluster business partner and an awful boss. he's also a terrible husband who never, ever deserved fran fine. ever. he doesn't love fran, he loves the idea of her and the way he treats her after they get married makes me want to commit a murder.

fran should have dumped max after paris. that's it, that's the hill.

cc babcock, neuro divergent angel. my girl is autistic. that is an autistic babe. fran gives me big adhd vibes also.

you can fuck off if you think fran fine can't cook. nice jewish girl™ fran fine, daughter of sylvia fine, can't cook? are you fucking kidding me? this is one of the things about the show that pisses me off so fucking much, food is so much a part of fran's character - she's a caretaker, she's jewish - i refuse to believe that she cannot cook.

the fact that a show set in the 90s with two main characters who are broadway producers doesn't mention aids makes me want to scream. i know it's a comedy! i know they didn't do any very special episodes but still. a nod! please!

cc got done so dirty - lauren is so fucking funny and she could have done so much more with that role if fran drescher didn't need to be the funniest, prettiest woman in the room at all times (sorry fran, ily, but i know i'm right)

fran also did herself dirty. the voice jokes? the jokes about her weight? like girl, you're funnier and better than that. this is not a show which treats women well.

fran/cc is a better enemies to lovers than niles/cc. there was the possibility for development there!!! i will one day give a ted talk on it. fundamentally tho, i think it comes down to how enemies to lovers is based on obsession and cc is obsessed with fran (even if she says it's about getting rid of her) (she's lying). fran's less obsessed but i don't think fran sees cc as an enemy (bc fran has a functioning gaydar), fran kind of pities cc. but i think there is something there, something which could have at least developed into a friendship (if the show didn't hate women!!) and in my head, will always develop into romance.

i'm sure when i post this, one of my friends will remind me of another one of my hills but this is good to start with.

[fandomnerd9602]

Fake, Right?

Wanda Maximoff x Nerd!Reader (High School AU)

For @aloneodi

“I do not!” Wanda Maximoff finds herself stating to the rest of the group she called her clique.

“It is so obvious, Maximoff” Yelena states before chowing down on her mac and cheese.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Wanda” Natasha chimes in, “(Y/N) is cute. Your best friend for so long. It’s almost like a romance story”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “What about you and Bruce?” Natasha blushes at that remark.

“Fine!” Wanda huffs, “if it pleases you all, I’ll go out with (Y/N) and I’ll prove there’s nothing there!”

“The only one you need to prove it to is yourself” Natasha snickers.

Wanda leaves her gal pals and heads over to you.

“I need you to date me” Wanda takes you by the shoulders.

“hello you too” you smile.

“Natasha and Yelena think that I’m in love with you and I need to prove that I’m not.”

“So a fake date?” You look confused.

“Yeah. Fake. Can you help?”

“Uh sure?” You find yourself at a loss for words.

“Great. Pick you up at seven” she gives you a sisterly hug before rejoining her popular friends.

You’d do anything for Wanda. She was a good friend of yours for as long as you could remember. But a fake date just seemed a little off.

Wanda rejoins her friends. Natasha giggles as Yelena rolls her eyes.

“Enjoy your evening, lovebird” Natasha giggles.

“Shut up” Wanda rolls her eyes at the redhead.

You got ready for your fake date. A simple attire set up. You wrapped your lucky Hufflepuff scarf around your neck.

A familiar honk outside your door got your attention. You walk out just as Wanda strolls up to you in her favorite red hoodie and yoga pants.

“You look better than I do” Wanda giggles

“Come on” you smirk, “you could make a 50s sitcom outfit look amazing”

Wanda actually blushes. “So where to?”

“Wanna grab a burger and shake?”

“Sure thing, Hufflepuff”

“I’m surprised you’re not wearing your Slytherin scarf” you shoot back.

“Hufflepuffs and Slytherin only cause mayhem together” Wanda socks your arm playfully.

“Then let’s cause some tonight” you laugh.

You and Wanda make your way to the local diner. Wanda just about devours her whole chocolate shake.

“It’s been forever since I had one of these” Wanda practically moans as the shake runs down her throat.

“I missed these times” you admit. “I know you got the popular crowd now-“

“I could never sideline you” Wanda interrupts. “Nat and Yelena are fun but I can’t talk with them about the things we talk about”

“I don’t mind” you shrug. “I still see you every now and then. It’s not like you’re on Mars.”

“I missed our hangouts too.” Wanda shrugs “I feel like I changed so much”

“Oh really? Favorite vinyl?”

“Florence and the Machine. Lungs. Dog Days are Over”

“Okay. Favorite show?”

“Dick Van Dyke Show”

“Favorite movie?”

“Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone”

You smile, “sounds like the same old Wanda to me”

“Wanna hit the record shop?” Wanda bats her eyes at you.

“I was hoping you’d ask”

You and Wanda make your way to the records shop. You spend the next hour rocking out to old vinyls and just enjoying one another’s company. Wanda felt so free. No cliques. No standards. Just her and you, allowed to be yourselves.

Your last stop was the movies. You just bought the closest showing you could. The movie was terrible but laughing along with Wanda made it worth watching.

It was close to midnight when Wanda pulled up to your house. Wanda didn’t want the night to end. Something about being with you just felt right.

“I had fun tonight” you smile at your best friend. Wanda giggles in response.

“Glad I could get you out of your shell, Hufflepuff” she laughs.

“I wouldn’t mind doing it again, Slytherin. Maybe next time we could have a Harry Potter marathon”

“I’ll bring the popcorn and soda” Wanda giggles.

“Well I’ll see tomorrow Wanda.” You walk up the steps of your house. Part of you doesn’t want this night to end either. You turn and look back at the young witch.

You look at her, she looks at you. And for the second time in a long time, Wanda feels a certain longing in her heart. A longing for you to come back down those steps and kiss her.

Sadly you walk up and into your house. What Wanda didn’t know was the strong urge you felt to go back down and kiss her goodnight.

As she walks away from your house that night, all Wanda could think was of how good she and you fit together. She could spend a whole lifetime with you and never grow tired. Well Tony did have that party coming up next week. An idea was brewing in that young witch’s mind.

Tags: @aloneodi @lifespectator @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @supercorpdanbeau @scarletwitch-n7 @deafeningsharkslimeempath @kingofthelizardpeople @jacelion @family-house-of-m

[gatheringbones]

[“The fact that my body has become a source of at least as much misery as pleasure has paradoxically made it easier for me to stop calling myself a lesbian and use the term bisexual instead. I just don’t have the energy any more to hold up facades. Back in 1971, I initially told people I was bisexual, but discovered this meant that straight people saw me as a heterosexual who occasionally dabbled in not-very-serious sex with “other girls,” while gay people saw me as a dyke who hadn’t come all the way out of the closet yet. Nobody trusted me, and nobody would dance with me. In 1980, when Sapphistry was about to be published and my first article about lesbian S/M appeared in The Advocate, I said in that article that if I had a choice between being marooned on a desert island with a vanilla dyke or a leather boy, I would take the boy. I got an extremely irate phone call from Barbara Grier, owner of Naiad, the company that was going to publish Sapphistry, informing me that they did not publish books by bisexual women, and if that was what I was, she would yank the book. Already in the midst of a firestorm about being public as a sadomasochist, I acquiesced, and delayed this coming out by another twenty years. I became “a lesbian who sometimes has sex with men.”

I still think this is a valid category, and remain unconvinced that the most important thing you can know about someone’s sexuality is the preferred gender of their partner. But today I’d rather not argue about it. I need to keep things as simple as possible. Bisexual people are still being excluded from the gay community’s cultural and political life. And I find myself being personally affected by that exclusion. It hurts me and makes me angry in a way that it would not, I think, if I were not on some level affiliated with bisexuals. I would rather stand with a group of people who don’t expect me to turn myself into a pretzel to explain what makes my dick get hard. This doesn’t mean I think it’s wrong or passé to be a Kinsey 6. But I do think a quest for purity of any sort is almost always morally dangerous.

Being more open about having sex with men has brought my own gender dysphoria to the fore. When I put my body up against a male body, what I notice is how hard it is for me to feel connected to my own flesh. Even more important has been the experience of loving someone who is a female-to-male transsexual (FTM), my domestic partner, Matt Rice. I knew Matt before he transitioned, and it has been such a positive change for him. By taking testosterone and getting chest surgery, he not only allowed himself to become and live as a man, he became a much better person—kinder, more patient, happier, sexier, sweeter. (Although he still won’t suffer fools gladly.) The fact that Matt has managed his transition with this degree of success gives me hope that I might be able to find a less distressing place for myself. I expect, like any other coming out, this will have its shitty aspects. But I think it will also create a greater sense of freedom and comfort.”]

pat califa, from layers of the onion, spokes of the wheel, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[luciferfemme]

LESBIAN ASKS: the SHE-QUEL (messy edition?)

What are some real thoughts about the community that you don’t always feel like you can say?

Are you a messy dyke (relationship-wise or friendship-wise?)

Are you a UHaul Lesbian? If so is this something you like or dislike about yourself?

Do you fall in love easily?

Do you enjoy casual sex?

Have you ever fallen for a best friend?

Have you ever fallen for a straight girl?

Whose aesthetic would you like to steal?

At one Tumblr user and tell them something nice

Do you think you could be happy alone?

Do you like tacky things?

How has your style and taste changed since you came out?

Have you ever dated a man and what was that experience like?

Tell me about your significant other. Now’s your time to gush.

Have you ever had a best friend that you HATED their partner? Did you tell them?

Do you think you have good taste in partners? (Be Honest)

Do you feel comfortable around straight people?

What’s your favorite part about pride?

What’s the gayest thing you’ve ever done (that isn’t like actually “gay”?)

Who is your role model?

What is your relationship like with your parent(s)?

Did you lose friends coming out?

Tell me a gay secret.

What advice would you give to those just coming out (baby gays?)

If you could excommunicate one LGBTQIA+ person from the community who would it be and why?

What is your favorite part about being a lesbian (and you can’t just say, women)

What is your favorite line of Sapphic poetry (not necessarily written by Sappho herself just in general)

What was your Aha moment regarding your sexuality?

What was a sign you should have recognized sooner that you were gay?

Did you have any celebrity crushes growing up? 

Tell me your idea of the most romantic date you could imagine? Have you ever been on it?

What’s your favorite lesbian joke (you cannot say yourself)

What is your favorite lesbian love story (real or fiction)

Who do you most admire?

Write a love letter without using the words love, beautiful, or handsome

What is a piece of media you wish existed but doesn’t?

We all have terrible opinions sometimes, what’s something you had a bad opinion about but you’ve grown on?

Have you told yourself you are fabulous, beautiful, handsome, lovable, worthy today?

Tell me about your bestie

At someone on Tumblr and tell me your favorite thing about them.

At someone on Tumblr and describe their style without using the word -core.

How do you feel about the word dyke?

Could you fall in love with someone from the internet who didn’t leave near you? Have you?

Tell me about an embarrassing story regarding love or relationships

What’s one thing you wish people understood about lesbians?

How would you describe your own style (without using the word -core)

How do you really feel about Valentine’s Day?

Favorite ally?

If you could only pick one item of clothing/makeup/footwear/jewelry to wear forever from the items you already own what would it be and why? (Bonus points if you include a photo)

What gives you absolute joy as a lesbian?

Say something nice about yourself.

If not on anon say something nice about the person who sent you this ask.

Do you enjoy Pride?

What is your type?

What are you looking for in a partner?

If you could manifest one thing for yourself this year what would it be?

Who makes you feel joy?

How do you feel about the lesbian flag?

What is your favorite color combination?

What creature do you align yourself with? (Vampires, werewolves, witches, etc)

What would bring you joy at this moment?

What would "fix you"?

Who did you want to be when you grew up?

Do you ever want to get married if you're not already?

Are you a plant gay? Show off your plants or tell me about your favs.

What is your favorite fantasy (sexual or not)

Who comes to mind immediately when I say lesbian icon?

Who comes to mind immediately when I say lesbian trash?

Besides teleportation what's one superpower you think would make your life better and why?

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

For those of you who don’t know, I decided to run the gauntlet of @bengiyo’s queer cinema syllabus, which is comprised of 9 units. I have completed four of the units (here is my queer cinema syllabus round up post with all the films I’ve watched and written about so far). It is time for me to make my way through Unit 5- Lesbians, which includes the following films: The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love (1995), Bound (1996), Water Lilies (2007), Saving Face (2004), D.E.B.S. (2004), Set It Off (1996), The Handmaiden (2016), Carol (2015), Imagine Me and You (2005), Two of Us (2019), Rafiki (2018), and The Color Purple (1985). 

Today I will be talking about 

Bound (1996) dir. Wachowski Sisters

[Run Time: 1:48 , Language: English]

Summary: Tough ex-con Corky and her lover Violet concoct a scheme to steal millions of stashed mob money and pin the blame on Violet's crooked boyfriend Caesar. Cast: - Jennifer Tilly as Violet - Gina Gorshon as Corky __

OKAY! THIS MOVIE KICKS ASS! What a gift to dykes everywhere, let me tell you. I cannot believe this was the Wachowski Sister’s directorial debut. It makes so much sense to me how they would have gotten such success off of The Matrix and Sense8 if this was their first foray in to directing because it is evident how strong of an idea they have for the story they are telling and what they want their audience to see. Maybe it helps that they wrote it as well, but still they know exactly what they want to do in every scene. 

It’s really fun watching Bound knowing that it was made before Lana and Lily Wachowski came out because it is so clear to me that queer women made this film. Corky and Violet are so horny for each other, we get multiple on camera lesbian sex scenes, they are both hot as fuck and the camera lets us know it in a way that somehow (for me at least) manages to convey both a carnal desire to Tap That without feeling like it is objectifying the women on screen.

I think it is really interesting that this entire heist took place across two rooms in an apartment complex, and that all of this could still go down. I loved how run down the apartment Corky was fixing up looks and how grandiose Violet’s apartment is. The class disparity is there, but we know where Violet stands because she always places herself in Corky’s spaces. 

I saw a little interview from the Wachowski’s talking about what is one of my favorite shots in the film, when the camera transitions birdseye between Violet on the phone in her bedroom and Corky on the phone on the other side of the wall. They were talking about how these two women are trapped and how caged in they wanted the set to feel, so not only did they keep them in those rooms but they covered the apartment in squares to just keep them caged and caged and caged at every level. And you can see it, even though it is sometimes subtle. It’s in the wallpaper, it’s on the floor, the concrete slabs, etc. (You can see an example in the gif above)

I liked that Corky set the plot up so well by telling Violet that if they were going to steal the money that she needed to know her mark as well if not better than she knows herself, and how the rush job to take the money backfires so spectacularly at the very last part of the plan because Corky doesn’t know Ceaser well enough to realize he is going to stay and fight rather than turn tail and run when he realizes the money is gone. 

I talked a few times about the color red and the symbolism associated with it in Heartbreak Alley, how every time I saw blood on screen in the back half of Unit 4 the only thing I could think about was AIDS. So it is really interesting moving in to Unit 5 to spaces where we see a lot of blood and where suddenly that symbolism is gone. Now the blood is prison and freedom all in one. I love the way Ceaser’s blood mixes with the white paint at the end. The blood dripping on the white tile of the bathroom, on the toilet. All the ways in which sins and crime can be wiped clean, and how white makes everything else stand out, until it doesn’t. I was struck by the transition between Ceaser bleeding out in that pool of white paint, and the Landlord Special room we transitioned to with all those impossibly white walls. 

Favorite Moment: 

Oh god, there are so many little things I loved, the shot of Corky and Violet’s lips an inch apart and then crashing together to make out. Their fingers intertwining in the car at the end of the film. The fact that Corky wears her lockpicks as earrings, #innovation. But I think my absolute favorite little moment in the film is when Ceaser has Corky bound at his feet and he’s interrogating her about the money, and he points the gun at her face and he says: “Fucking queers you make me sick” which sounds like a weird choice to have as my favorite moment, but it is entirely because of the second after that line when Violet’s eyes flick upwards to look at him. Because she, too, is a queer woman and we are not allowed to forget that just because she spends so much of the film bound to this man because of his money and his power over her. 

Favorite Quote: 

“I had this image of you inside of me. Like a part of me.” 

It’s repeated a few times in the film though it always feels kind of randomly placed. But I like it for the simple fact that it is like calling to like. Queer woman trapped in her own life calling out to a queer woman trapped in her own life. I like that we get the counterpart to this quote at the end when Corky asks Violet “do you know what the difference is between you and me, Violet?” // “No.” // “Me neither.”  It’s just such a lovely parallel that comes at the end of all of their suffering, their abuse, and the freedom they have gained. 

Score

10/10

Gina Gershon hot.

What else is there to say?

[angel-in-shibari]

older stronger abusive sadistic cellmate gf:

"if you scream, they're just gonna send you to Ad Seg for your 'protection'. so don't even bother, dumbass"

"hey dumbass, you still didn't pay me back for the coffee I gave you yesterday. you better pay up now. I don't care if your commissary account is empty. I guess you'll just hafta pay me back... another way~"

"oh yeah? what're the guards gonna do? I ain't scared of them. I can pin you against the wall and they won't give a shit"

"showering by yourself? how do you know someone won't try to shank you in the bathroom? no, you need my protection. of course I'm getting naked. we're taking a shower together, baby girl."

"nope. you don't get the top bunk. or the bottom bunk either. you sleep on the floor. I don't care if it's freezing cold concrete. bitches like you don't deserve to sleep on a bed"

"shhhhh don't yell, dumbass. I stole a guard's handcuffs. don't worry, you're fine. I just cuffed you to my bunk. awww, poor baby. don't cry. just go back to sleep. lemme play with you a bit longer"

"so you get out in a few weeks? damn. I still have 40 months left. that sucks. I bet you're gonna miss me. or... here's a thought. what if you stayed here longer? you'd want that, wouldn't you baby girl? of course you would. you'd do anything I say. right? yeah, that's what I thought. so go ahead and punch that guard over there right in her dumb face. because I told you to, that's why! don't you wanna stay with me? then do what I fucking told you to! I don't care if you think you're throwing away your life by staying here. I've seen the way you worship me. I know how obsessed you are with me. trust me, I'm way better than any one else on the outside. who would even want you anyway? an ex-con, a criminal, a dyke, a complete fucking pushover. are you seriously gonna let everyone walk all over you for the rest of your life? or are you going to do what I tell you to?"

"wow, I can't believe you actually did that! and you got 5 years added to your sentence? that's hilarious! yeah, so funny thing... I actually lied about my own sentence. I didn't have 40 months left. I actually only have four. hey, but it's okay. after I'm gone, I'm sure you'll get another cool cellmate. hopefully someone who won't try and kill you the first chance they get. what.... you love me? jeez, when did you get all sentimental all of a sudden? hey, it's not my fault! I didn't think you'd actually do it. I was just playing around. it's your own fault for believing me. haven't you learned by now, baby girl? you can't let people push you around and tell you what to do. it doesn't matter if it's cops, your boss, or even people you think you love. you're such a dumbass. and to think you were originally in here for just 14 months because of a stupid drug possession charge. you really threw away your life because you wanted to be with me? that's so fucking pathetic."

"oh stop fucking crying, dumbass. it's not the end of the world. hey, maybe when you get out in five years, we can meet up and get coffee or something? okay, that's enough. now you're just making me feel bad. I told you already, it's your own fault. okay, you know what? I know Officer Smith. I can probably bribe her to drop the charge and get your original release date back. but only if you do something for me. strip. I said 'strip', dumbass. yes, get naked, right here right now. I don't care if anyone sees us. now on your knees. aww that's just adorable. look at you. no, shut up. puppies don't talk. they bark. so bark for me puppy. I said bark! awww that's perfect. you're nothing but a dog. you're just my prison bitch, are you? awww, so pathetic. you'd do anything I tell you to. take my pants off. that's right. good girl. underwear too. nope, stop. don't use your hands. use your teeth. awww, good puppy. so good at obeying me. eat me out. you heard me. what, did you seriously think you were just gonna stare at me? you're such a fucking dumbass. if you're asking me for a favor, you need to give me something first. you've been in prison for almost 14 months. how do you not know this already? fucking dumbass. eat me out, now. oh, god.... that's so good. you've got a killer tongue, puppy. you feel so fucking good. isn't this embarrassing? just the thought that anyone could look into our cell, and see you naked and on your knees, eating me out like the pathetic little bitch you are? isn't that just so fucking hot? oh, fuck! don't stop! keep going, bitch! stop fucking struggling! I don't care if you can't breathe! you'll breathe once I cum! keep going! don't stop! don't stop! don't... fuck! holy fuck! wow... okay.... just....... wow......... good girl. good puppy. you did such a good job. get up on the bunk. come snuggle with me, puppy. you did so good. you're such a good little puppy for me. thank you. you were amazing. okay, fine... I'll talk to Officer Smith, and get her to reduce your sentence. on one condition. once you get out, you better wait for me. you hear me? I got four months left, and I don't want any other dykes tryna take you from me, ya hear? you're mine. no one else's.

wow okay this started out as a dumb meme thing but ended up becoming a whole fucking story. okay then... lmao. I might fix this up and post it as a script to GWA or something. anyway, hope you liked this lmao!

[lycandrophile]

I’ve been struggling for a long time (almost 5 years now) over whether or not I’m trans. At this point I’m think I might be, but I’m terrified of loosing all the stuff I love about womanhood. The friendships, the clothes, but mainly being able to call myself a lesbian.

I think I really need to confront my gender, but I don’t know if it’s worth loosing all of these things that mean the world to me, advice?

fun fact: you don’t have to lose any of those things to be trans!

your friendships don’t have to change. sure, if you get to a point where you pass as a guy / are seen as not-a-girl in some way, new people might treat you differently and approach friendship with you differently, but the friendships you already have won’t have to change at all. absolutely nothing about my friendships changed when i came out; there’s no way of being friends that’s exclusive to women. and if a friend does treat you differently just because you’re trans? that’s on them, and it honestly might be a sign that you’re better off without them anyway.

you can wear all the same clothes you do now. my wardrobe hasn’t changed at all since i came out. i’ve always chosen my clothes just based on what is most comfortable for me, so i’ve been perfectly happy keeping all of my old clothes. my body and the way other people see me were the things i felt the need to change, not my clothes. i might not have the most masculine wardrobe ever, but it’s what i’m comfortable in and that’s the important part. if anything, being trans just expanded my wardrobe instead of changing it — i kept wearing all the things i always liked, but i also started to look in the men’s section and found even more things that i like wearing.

and you don’t have to stop calling yourself a lesbian just because you’re trans. it’s one thing if being trans also means the label doesn’t feel like it fits anymore, but if it still feels right? you can keep using it as long as you like. nonbinary lesbians and transmasc lesbians and lesboys and trans men whose love for women still feels gay and people whose only remaining connection to womanhood is the fact that they’re lesbians and multigender people who are lesbians because of their womanhood while also being other genders and people whose genders are just butch or femme or dyke and nothing else all absolutely exist, as do trans guys who don’t personally call themselves lesbians anymore but remain part of the community because it still just feels like their home; you’d be far from the first person to transition while holding onto an identity that’s still meaningful to you, even if it sounds contradictory to other people.

i’ve gone through similar processes of trying to reconcile newly discovered parts of my identity with the parts i’d already accepted, and you’d be surprised how often the answer to the dilemma is just “i guess i’m both, unless/until i decide one of them doesn’t feel right anymore.” i don’t talk a lot about my specific identities on here but they’re full of so-called contradictions. the thing about queerness is that it’s never been about making our identities “make sense” or “sound right” to other people. queerness is automatically looked down on by most people as wrong or unnatural or confusing or just completely unintelligible, and the job of queer people is not to make them more intelligible but to embrace them despite the fact that most people think we’re ridiculous for doing so. the only person your identity has to feel right to is you; no one else matters.

any shift in identity is going to feel like a massive change when your old identity is one you lived in for a long time and grew attached to, but being a big change doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a loss. of course, if it feels right to let go of some of the old to make room for the new, do that, but never feel obligated to do so. if you aren’t ready to let go of something associated with your old identity yet, let those things stick around while you welcome the new stuff in and see how they get along. you aren’t on any kind of timeline; you can take the transition slow and only let go of things once you feel absolutely sure that they aren’t serving you anymore, even if that means never letting go of some of the things other people say you should want nothing to do with. some of us are happiest when we embrace identities and ways of moving through the world that make absolutely no sense to anyone but us.

so my advice is this: don’t run away from this. it’s not fair to yourself to live your entire life in a limbo space of perpetually agonizing over your identity but never doing anything about it. the best thing you can do is give yourself permission to explore these feelings in their entirety, rather than only focusing on the things they might take away from you. i know it’s scary, but i guarantee you’ll come out happier on the other side no matter what you end up identifying as. knowing more about how you want to be seen and how you want to live life is only going to help you be more satisfied with the life you’re living — you can’t be happy if you never give yourself the space to learn what being happy means for you.

if, at the end of it all, you do end up letting go of some of the things you feel attached to now, it’ll only be because you found something that makes you even happier and feels even more right. and if you don’t? you can live the rest of your life holding onto all of the things you love about womanhood without actually/entirely/only being a woman! there are no rules; gender and queerness have no limits except for the limits of how far you’re willing to go to truly know yourself.

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

Transfem Stevie who figures it out when she goes to a gay bar with Robin (post s3?) and meets another transwoman and has a Huh, you can do that? moment.

i sort of Went Off on this one lmaoo. bc im incapable of not steddifying everything this is now T4T Steddie 2: This Time They're Lesbians- with trans girl eddie cracking stevie's egg

PLEASE NOTE: this is set in the 80s, so they use kind of outdated terminology for trans people. also there's a d slur used in a positive, self-ID way. overall the vibes are good but the language is questionable. do with that what you will lol

When Robin asks Steve to be her ‘emotional support heterosexual’ (her words) for her first visit to an Indianapolis gay club, Steve prepares himself for a night of ‘hey, have you met my friend Robin’, pointedly not hitting on any girls, and politely declining offers of drinks and dances from guys until he’s buzzed enough to admit he’s curious. And so far, that’s exactly what he’s been doing. Robin’s off dancing with a girl after Steve assured her about ten times that he’d be fine on his own. He’s just debating whether or not his inhibitions are lowered enough to go dancing when his thoughts are interrupted by a voice to his right.

“Steeeeeeeve Harrington.”

Steve turns, already cringing. Anyone who says his name with a tone like that is someone who is not going to be thrilled with seeing him in a gay club. The thing is, Steve has no idea who this person is. Can’t even really tell if they’re a guy or a girl. Their features are fairly masculine, all lean muscles and square chin, but they’ve got long, wild hair and heavy eye makeup. The cropped muscle tank with ‘Massive Dyke’ printed in lurid red muddies the waters even further.

“Oh, hey… uh…” Yeah, Steve’s pulling a complete blank. They look kind of familiar? He’s definitely seen them around. Somewhere. 

They roll their eyes. “Not surprised King Steve doesn’t recognise me. Especially looking like this. What are you doing here?”

Steve sighs a little. “I’m here with a friend. She was nervous to come alone so I’m here for moral support and wingmanning.”

“Yeah, sure,” they scoff, and Steve frowns even more.

“Look, I know I was a dick in high school. And I’m genuinely sorry if I was a dick to you. But that was four years ago. I’ve grown up, and I’m here to be a good friend. Can you let me do that?”

The person blinks, and then looks a little sheepish. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” they say, before extending a hand. “And it’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

Steve smiles and shakes the offered hand. “Oh, yeah! You ran that club my kids went to- dungeons and dragons, right? Cool to see you again, dude!”

Eddie’s face does a complicated little wiggle before- “Uh, not a dude, man.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m a girl, now. Still Eddie, though, it’s just short for Edith now. Have you heard of transsexuals?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m pretty new to this. I know, like. Five words.”

“Well, easiest way to put it is that I was born a guy, but I feel more like a girl, so now I’m, like, switching.”

“Switching…” Steve says, trying his best to look genuinely interested and confused. He generally doesn’t struggle too hard to look confused, but he’s a little worried Eddie will think he’s being a dick about it. “You can do that?”

Eddie snorts, gesturing down to herself. “Clearly.”

“Huh,” Steve says. Frankly, this is blowing his mind. “Why doesn’t everyone do that, then? Like, no one likes being a guy.”

“Ye- wait, what?”

“Like, the sexism of being a girl would suck, obviously. But everything else sounds great! Like, you get prettier clothes and you can wear makeup- and girls are so nice to other girls, I've always been kind of jealous of that.”

Eddie looks shocked, but Steve's on a roll now, almost forgetting she's there as he continues thinking aloud. “And like. Girls’ bodies are just. Better, y'know? Like what do guys have, muscles? Girls can have muscles too, but girls are just so… like, everyone wants boobs, right?”

Eddie has a strange look on her face. “I mean, I do. Because I’m transsexual.”

“When you’re transsexual, do you get boobs? Like, do you- wait, is that rude? I feel like I wouldn’t ask another girl about her boobs.”

Eddie’s silent for a moment, looking at Steve in bewilderment, before she seems to collect herself. She takes a swig of her beer and then smiles at him. It looks both welcoming and like she’s in on a secret, and puts Steve at ease. He can see why the kids were so obsessed with her in high school.

“You know what, ordinarily it would be kind of rude, but I have a feeling this conversation is… not what I thought it was gonna be,” she says, and Steve tilts his head a bit in confusion. “So yeah, I do have boobs. You can take estrogen as a little pill, and it basically does puberty for you again. You get boobs, a little extra fat on your hips and thighs, and your skin gets softer. Here, feel.”

And then Eddie takes Steve’s hand and slides it up her shirt. His brain immediately turns off. And yeah, there’s definitely a gentle swell there. They’re small, but Steve can feel the squish of them. Her nipples are pierced. Steve thinks he might die.

“Wow,” he squeaks, about five embarrassing octaves higher than his normal tone. “Cool!”

Eddie grins as she removes his hand from her tit. “Yeah, cool. I’d let you fondle them a little more, sweetheart, but they’re still growing. Kind of sore.”

Steve blushes, rubbing his hand on his thigh and desperately trying to will his boner down. “Man, I wish I could grow boobs,” he sighs, a little wistfully.

“You can, y’know,” Eddie says, with a little chuckle and a soft smile. “What’s stopping you?”

That. Steve hasn’t considered that. A hundred things come to his lips- he’s not like that, he’s not one of those- a hundred things that he knows are absolutely terrible reasons. If Robin were here she’d either be whacking him upside the head or giving him that really sad look she does whenever he’s mean to himself.

“Hey,” Eddie says, speaking softly and laying a gentle hand on Steve’s knee. It shocks him out of his spiral as he looks up into her big brown eyes. “Y’know, I’ve got some makeup in my van. If you wanted to try some things out. No one here will judge you.”

“I- yeah,” Steve is breathless. “I’d like that. Uh- my friend-”

“Oh, is she real? I’ll be honest, I kinda thought you were doing the ‘oh I’m not gay I’m just here for a friend’ thing.”

Laughing, Steve looks out over the crowd. “No, she’s real. Let me just let her know I’ll be gone for a moment- honestly she’s probably halfway to third base with some girl anyway-”

And sure enough, Robin is more than ready to let Steve wander off once he peels her off a pretty girl on the opposite side of the club. He rejoins Eddie, who leads him down the street towards her van and helps him into the back. She takes out her makeup bag, cracking jokes about their wildly different styles while she delicately brushes powder over his face. She generously refrains from threatening to take his eye out with the eyeliner pencil (more than once at least), and apologises for not having anything more ‘babygirl’ than her bright red lipstick. Steve can definitely say this is the most fun he’s ever had in the back of a van.

Finally, masterpiece done, Eddie rummages in her bag for a little compact, presenting it to Steve with a dumb little bow. Steve takes it with a roll of his eyes, and prepares himself with a deep breath.

The person in the mirror is beautiful. Glowing skin, huge doe eyes lined with smokey eyeliner and lashes a mile long, practically sinful lips. Steve almost doesn’t recognise himself, except that he does. He really, really does, in a way he now realises he never really has before. It’s the first time he’s ever looked at his face in the mirror and not wanted to change anything.

“You’re a really pretty girl, Stevie,” Eddie says with a gentle smile.

Steve can’t look away from the mirror. “Yeah,” she says, a red-lipped grin stretching across her face. “I really am.”