#like i love flannel i do but every time i see a post about lesbians in flannel i think of my highschool and the girls who wore flannel

[imnoteventechnicallyinthisfandom]

See flannel is not a gay thing to me

Do you know where I got all my flannel??

I will say I have never in my life bought a flannel

All of it was either my father's or my grandfather's

I have a cutest blue flannel that was my father's in highschool

I had to be told that it was a queer thing

My school had a flannel spirit day

I don't understand why everyone isn't wearing flannels they're so comfy

Seriously though like I have had people make comments about it being seen as a queer thing and I'm just like.... this flannel was bought for a very straight man before I was born and it is the softest most comfortable thing ever I would wear it even if I was straight this is not what signals me as being queer

The dating a girl who is dating a guy is what makes me queer

[adorethedistance]

City Slicker, Cowboyfriend - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, nerves, mentions of covid.

Words: 2163

Summary: You’re starting to have doubts about moving all the way to Norman until a shopping trip to Ikea turns into the meet-cute you’ve been waiting for.

A/n: This isn’t a request or one of my Valentines day fics, this is just something that I have had stuck in my head ever since Owen posted this on IG and bc I’m facing total writers block with my other pieces I cranked this one out in a few hours to get the ball rolling again. Hopefully. Enjoy this totally unproofed, fluffy madness!! (Because who doesn’t need more Owen content in their life?)

There are perks to moving and one of them is undoubtedly: shopping. For furniture, home decor, kitchen utensils, whatever! Granted, shopping alone can be tedious and, for some, like pulling teeth, thus, I’ve enlisted the help of my best friends Leila and Chelsea. I didn’t even have to bribe them to come because everyone loves getting lost in Ikea. It’s one of the best things about the human experience.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been in an Ikea,” Leila says to no one in particular as we walk through the onslaught of staged bedrooms.

“What?! Are you telling me you don’t get meatballs and lawn chairs on a weekly basis?” My exaggeration makes Leila laugh as she steps into one of the display kitchens. Looking between me and Chelsea she asks,

“What would you do if I turned the handle then a jet of water sprayed out?”

“Die, I guess.”

The three of us continue through the faux house displays and past the mattresses despite Leila’s urge to jump on every single one. As we walk through the section of different lighting features, I sigh with a frown as I think about college. I changed my bachelor’s to an associate’s so I could graduate in two years. Chelsea’s parents moved out here at the end of our senior year in high school, and she moved with them to study in Norman. Leila in turn went to Arizona for an athletic physical therapy gig, leaving me to face college alone in L.A.. In the two years the three of us were apart, we missed each other more and more, and after determining which of the three states we lived in was cheapest, we packed up and headed East. Covid kind of delayed our plans. But after a few months, I picked Leila up from Arizona and together we chased open job opportunities into Norman, Oklahoma. The three of us found an apartment space to live in together and thus, we ended up in Ikea on this fine Sunday afternoon.

Snapping back into reality I see Leila standing directly under a light that’s hanging very low from the ceiling. Once standing directly underneath it, she pulls down her mask and opens her mouth, rising to her toes to eat the fixture.

“Leila, don’t you dare fellate that light bulb! You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

I swear I’m practically their mom when it comes to behaving in public. Figuring they can’t hurt themselves in the college dorm section, I lead them quickly through it and into the giant furniture warehouse section. On the far wall, I see a large poster of a couple smiling brightly behind Chelsea, but I don’t bother to read the text. Leila and I spot the poster at the same time, and the imagery jogs her memory.

“Chelsea, how’s Hunter? Haven’t heard from him slash about him in like a week,” she asks about Chelsea’s boyfriend of a year.

“Oh, yeah, he tore a ligament in his wrist.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I guess he moved it wrong or something and put too much stress on the area that it just tore. He was moving hay bales into the horse stables.”

“As opposed to the chicken stables,” Leila judges under her breath, which makes me snicker as a result.

“I still can’t believe you’re dating a literal cowboy,” I interject, “Like, I know we’re in Oklahoma, and he’s from Tennessee, but we saw Texas on the way out here and that’s cowboy country. Norman seems more...” I trail off in search of delicate phrasing.

“Just barely marry your cousin territory, but still downing chewing tobacco whilst driving a lifted truck?” Leila hits the nail squarely on the head.

“Yeah, that sounds about right-” Before I can continue giving my thoughts on Norman, I cut myself off at the sound of laughter behind me.

“Sorry. We weren’t trying to eavesdrop, that was just really funny.” When I turn around, I see a guy roughly our age dressed in all black with bleach-blonde hair, speaking through light, broken laughter.

“No worries,” I dismiss the apology as we pass by one another, and out from the dressers section. The three of us continue into the different sections, and come to a stop once I see we’re exactly where we need to be: dining room shit!

“Cowboy boyfriends aside- oh my gosh: cowboy boyfriends. Cowboyfriends,” I say getting lost in my new terminology. Both of my friends share a mix of laughter and gasps and my ingeniousness. “Anyway. Cowboyfriends aside, how is Avery?” I ask Leila who begins blushing madly.

“She’s really good. We were just making plans for our three year anniversary, which reminds me to tell y’all I’m flying back to Phoenix to surprise her.”

“Awwww,” I nearly tear up and the sweet image of Leila and her girlfriend reuniting, “Y’all are so cute. Both of you and your partners. You know, being the only single friend in this group has made life suck a lot. Y’all are so happy and in love and not dead inside. Honestly? Get fucked both of you.” Despite my harsh words, the three of us break into a lighthearted conglomerate of laughter.

“We’ll find you someone… eventually.” Leila pretends she also can’t hear the last part of her sentence despite being the one saying it.

“I know, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for me to find love in Norman. I don’t need a cowboyfriend, and we’re not gonna find a true city slicker here either.”

When I finish my statement, I see our blonde friend seems to have followed us. I observe he comes to a stop in front of another guy in a flannel with a shopping cart. The way they jump into conversation with one another parallels the animated body language Leila, Chelsey, and I share. I continue to watch their exchange as Chelsea speaks up.

“Maybe you need someone right down the middle.”

“Yeah, like a guy who drives a truck but uses it to transport Ikea furniture instead of a whole ass tree that he’ll carve into a chair.” A small laugh escapes my lips, at both Leila’s statement, and the scene ahead of Blondie pretending to strangle his friend over something. I’m snapped out of my nosy yet endeared stare as a third guy appears. He’s a sandy blonde with billowing locks tucked under a trucker hat. And he came from behind me and my two friends to place something in their cart which keeps his back toward me. When he turns back around, my mind goes blank. Any thoughts of shopping for dining room chairs has left my mind. He is wearing a face mask, but he has such nice eyes that he could have a giraffe snout under the mask for all I care. I see him look up from the shelves, directly into my eyes. We stay locked for a moment before he breaks away and turns to his friends. I slowly turn to my friends too who are both giving me the exact same look of excitement and conspiracy.

“He’s really cute,” I sigh out with a laugh, swooning much louder than I’d have preferred.

“He has a face mask on,” Leila points out, her expression dropping from excited to cynical.

“Still! I can just tell.”

“Girl, what are you doing? Talk to him!” Chelsea whisper-shrieks.

“Shhh, I cannot take you anywhere!”

Glancing back at the handsome stranger, we connect eyes once more and I feel my face heat furiously as I realize he was already looking at me. I’m the first to break; I consult my friends for the best course of action and as I’m turned 180 to face them, Chelsea starts pretending to hyperventilate excitedly. Leila looks over my shoulder for me, discreetly surveying the other trio in the dining chairs aisle.

“Don’t look now, but he’s talking to his friends and looking between them and you.” I can hear in her voice she’s trying her best not to smile despite wearing a face mask.

“Should I give him my number?”

“Yes!”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m nervous! What if he’s gay?”

“Will you just get over there? I promise you a gay man would not be wearing what he’s wearing right now. Maybe a lesbian,” Leila adds for good measure.

“You guys are freaking me out, I need you to leave so I know you’re not judging my flirting.” I shoo my best friends out of the aisle as inconspicuous as possible. Kinda wish blondie would’ve done the same because when I turn back around, the other trio hasn’t moved and the only one looking at me is the one in all black. He quickly averts his eyes though and I take one last deep breath before walking over to the stranger. I tilt my chin up ever so slightly to fake a sense of confidence that I unmistakably don’t have right now.

“Hey.” Really, Y/n? Hey??

“Hey,” he greets back breathily. Why is he nervous? I’m the one who gets to be nervous! Man, he’s really cute. I can’t fuck this one up. I’m not doing so stellar right now. Perhaps you should say something else, dipshit?

“Uhm,” I should’ve scripted this. “I just wanted to say that-” You’ve got this. Don’t be a bummer. “I-uh, I think you’re really cute and I was wondering if I could give you my number?” My speech is slow, each word deliberate in spite of the fact that I feel like I’m having an out of body experience right now. I’m not the one in control of the words that are coming out of my mouth.

Upon realizing why I walked over, blondie’s friends take the question as a sign to leave and less than inconspicuously back away from the two of us. Trucker hat spares them one last glance over his left shoulder and judging by the look flannel gives him, they were definitely talking about me in their team huddle.

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna ask for your instagram- if you have one, that is.”

“I’m cool with both.” The two of us reach for our phones and unlock them with anxious hands. I move to hand him my phone with instagram open, and he trades me for his which has a new contact open. I type my name and put my favorite heart emoji next to it after triple checking the number is correct. Wow, you’re just so ballsy today, Y/n!!!!! I give him back the phone, scanning the instagram account he’s just opened and followed for me. I hear him exhale a little harder as a small laugh and can only imagine it’s from the stupid heart emoji.

“Owen,” I say in a hushed, endeared voice, fully not intending to say it out loud. “You have a million followers?! Oh, you’re an actor. OH… You’re an actor.” I really don’t need to be speaking my entire thought process right now in the middle of this Ikea. Exhaling a small laugh of my own, I see we already have a small bunch of mutuals, one of which is… Chelsea??? Looking up from my phone I turn around to see Chelsea and Leila watching the interaction from around the corner of one of the industrial shelves.

In the flurry of scattered likes, I see him find my account and follow me back. I accept the request, nervous of what he thinks of me without a face mask on. What do I think of him without a face mask on? Going back to his account, seeing his entire face is even better than just his eyes. I was right, Leila: he is cute.

“You’re really pretty,” I hear him almost sigh as he combs through the grid of my account. The comment makes my heart beat all the much faster and I finally look upward to get a glimpse of Owen in the flesh. Still as beautiful as the last time I checked!

Sparing a quick glance over my shoulder, he looks back down at me and laughs,

“I think your friends got tired of waiting.”

“I think yours did, too.” The other members of our trios come back into the aisle we had kicked them from more or less two minutes ago. We connect eyes once more and stare longingly, wordlessly at one another, so lost in each other’s beauty our friends have to break up the staring contest of infatuation.

“Y/n?” I hear Leila behind me.

“Uh, well, I have to get back to chair shopping, but- text me later?”

“For sure.”

“For sure,” I mimic his voice.

“Guess I’ll see you later. Y/n.”

“Yeah.” And with that, we’re pulled apart by our respective best friends, through the vast expanse of the Norman Ikea.

“What was that?” Chelsea asks, excitedly linking arms with me.

“I don’t know I- Wait, you have some explaining to do!”

*** 

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @lilyjoyner 

[youngerdrgrey]

the only way to get over someone... // a Batwoman fic

About: SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON TWO FINALE / post-2x18 / season two finale — After the s2 finale, Ryan tries to be a good 'friend' to Sophie, but it does not go the way she planned (feat. an extended cut of the similar tastes in conversation).

Notes: Don’t read if you haven’t seen the finale. This picks up at the end of the Kate and Ryan scene, then continues on from there because my WildMoore heart wanted to. Under the cut because spoilers + read on ao3

Kate Kane is leaving, and Ryan might need some time to fully process that. Kate’s opposite her, comfortably seated on the corner of their desk. The beer bottle clinks against the edge of it as Kate covers her bases. The suit’s staying with Ryan.

Kate starts, “As for Mary and Luke….”

Ryan jumps in with a smile. “They are my family, and I am going to take care of them.” No questions asked. Though, with Luke and his new super suit, she will definitely have help in keeping their family safe.

“Thank you.” Kate smiles back at Ryan. “And Sophie?”

Not family. Not in the traditional sense, at least. She’s family-adjacent at best. She’s… she’s Sophie, the same person who ruined Ryan’s life and relationship multiple times, and the same person who helped Ryan build them both back up.

Ryan quirks her head from side to side. “Can I get back to you on that?” The repetition gets another grin out of Kate. Worry still shines in Kate’s eyes though. Ryan admits, “She’s saved me a lot more than she’s hurt me, so, I guess I can look out for her too.”

Kate sighs in relief. “Good. She’ll need it. She’s not invincible, Ryan. Mary told me all about the two of you going back and forth over Cluemaster. She’s tough, but Sophie’s a lot more fragile than she seems.”

Ryan has seen a bit of that. Sophie does her best to hide the cracks in her armor, but Coryana in particular stripped down a layer. Her fear for Jordan took another, even her concern for Ryan in these last few days wore at it. “And you’re about to break her heart.”

Kate nods. She seems so sure that looking for Bruce is the right move. Maybe that’s what a good trip of Snake Bite can offer: clarity. Not that Ryan’s interested in joining Kate on that other side.

“Help her through it?”

Ryan jokes, “I’ll make sure she finds a suitable rebound. There’s a pretty great lesbian bar here.”

Kate’s eyes twinkle. “Keeping it close to home?”

Ryan does not like the implication in that question. She redirects the conversation. “Call us every once in a while. And make sure to tell Mary how much you miss her. She won’t admit it, but she loves to hear it. And maybe text Parker too. That girl is so hungry for gay mentorship. And —”

“I get it. I will keep in contact.”

Ryan aims her beer bottle at Kate like a threat. “You better. Don’t make me come find you. I almost died the last time.”

But Sophie saved her then. Ryan can always do the same.

.

.

Sophie does not know what to do with herself now. There’s no guidebook on what to do when the love of your life comes back from the dead, then promptly leaves to search for her cousin. No FAQ with tips on how to handle making out with said love of your life either.

There’s a knock on her door. A hopeful part of her immediately thinks it’s Kate. Sophie will open the door, and Kate will drop down her duffel bag and helmet and say, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sophie rushes to the door. Throws it open and — oh, of course. Ryan gives her an apologetic smile from the other side of it.

“I know I’m probably not who you want to see right now….” Ryan starts. Her arms shift around two resusable grocery bags with overflowing snacks and wine bottles. A backpack bumps them from her shoulder. She offers another smile. “I brought supplies. And I’m here to keep you company through the heartache and to take you up on your offer.”

That explains the backpack. Sophie checks, “Kate’s leaving tomorrow?”

Ryan nods. “Tonight’s her last night in the loft, and my only night crashing on your couch. If the offer still stands?”

She seems hopeful too, and nervous, like she’s bracing herself for Sophie to close the door in her face.

Sophie hasn’t exactly had any company at her place. Not since Julia. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone here tonight. Make her laugh, make her smile.

Sophie steps back to let Ryan in. Ryan glides forward. Sophie closes the door and leans back against it so she can watch Ryan take in the space.

Ryan does a full turn in the entrance. “Damn, you got it like this?” She whistles low in appreciation. Her platform converse pad along the hardwood flooring between the front door and the living room. It’s spacious with the most comfortable couch Sophie’s ever owned, her favorite coffee table, and a large TV, courtesy of a Black Friday sale two years ago. This place isn’t as nice as her old apartment with Tyler, but it’s still one of the nicer places that Gotham has to offer.

Ryan glances back at Sophie, and she realizes she should probably answer the playful question.

“I barely got it like this. Say what you want about my comphet marriage,” Sophie pushes off the door to approach Ryan in the living room, “the dual incomes made life a lot easier.” She winces. Any income. “I may have to downsize again now that I’m unemployed.”

Ryan sets her bags down on the coffee table. “Just work with Luke.”

Sophie’s eyebrows raise in confusion. “In real estate?”

Ryan gives Sophie an equally confused look. “He still daylights as Head of Wayne Security. If you work there too, it’ll make Bat stuff that much easier.”

Oh. “I… hadn’t thought about that.”

“Bat stuff or what comes next?” Ryan asks.

“Honestly? Any of it.” Sure, Ryan has called Sophie now that Sophie knows the truth. They’ve teamed up, and they really did a great job last night during the blackout. All signs point to Sophie officially being a part of the team. She simply doesn’t want to assume and get hurt in the process.

Ryan reads her silence and rolls her eyes. “Consider this your Bat Team orientation. We mostly work nights, though there are the occasional work trips. We went to a beautiful island this year for a company retreat.”

Sophie can play along. “I think I’ve been there. Shame about the fire.”

Ryan nods with a faux somber expression. “Beautiful sight, even if it did almost kill me. Oh, and we have full medical benefits, so long as you go to Mary and Mary alone. No overtime. No days off. But you get to make Gotham a better place.”

Sophie pretends to think it over. “Is there a uniform?”

“Only for me. The rest of the staff comes as they are.”

“Lucky them.”

Ryan pops the collar on her flannel shirt. “You should see me in my suit.” It fits Ryan in all the right places for being protective wear. Sophie will never say that though. Ryan’s cocky enough without being complimented.

Sophie eyes the bags. “So what’s the plan?”

Ryan perks up, their earlier bit forgotten. “Anything we want. I’ve got face masks —” She tugs them out to show Sophie. “Candy and snacks. Most of it’s vegan, so I can enjoy it too. I brought wine that I took from the bar. We can blast angry, pop music, or do sad girl karaoke. Ooh, you can call Kate a bitch again.”

“I called Circe a bitch,” Sophie clarifies.

Ryan waves that off. “She deserved it.”

“Well, she’s gone so….” Sophie shrugs because that is the point, isn’t it? She glances around her one bedroom apartment — the effects of her last break-up — and logs the empty spots on the walls where old art would’ve gone. There’s space on the bookshelves from the books Tyler took with him. After the divorce, Sophie had to physically sort through her life. What does she do now when there’s nothing to pack up, or send away?

Sophie admits, “I’ve never had another person for this. Though, Kate and I did have a better goodbye than we usually do.” Even saying that puts a little smile in the corner of Sophie’s lips.

Of course Ryan clocks it. “Oh, y’all had a good-bye then.”

Sophie’s smile gets bigger as she licks her lips. A very good bye. As the rest of the conversation filters back in, Sophie’s smile shrinks. “She wants me to go for something easier.”

Ryan hums in understanding. “Long distance isn’t great, especially when you have no idea where she’ll be.”

“Are we still talking about Kate?” Sophie asks. Angelique’s out there somewhere. Ryan spent the majority of their working relationship hating Sophie because of Angelique. If Ryan’s still hung up on her….

Ryan shrugs. “We’re all getting over someone. I am just much further along than you.”

Honestly, direct communication is not something Sophie is interested in right now. She doesn’t want to think about whether Ryan misses Angelique, or how much Sophie will miss Kate when the reality sets in. She doesn’t want to think about Imani, or the fact that Ryan has had a whole mini-relationship in these last few months while Sophie’s been frozen in grief and time.

“You know what they say, the best way to get over someone…” Sophie lets the sentence hang a moment as Ryan’s eyebrows inch higher and higher up her hairline. Sophie laughs before finishing, “is to watch a movie with a friend. You pick.”

The way Ryan’s face lights up with the power is absolutely worth whatever disaster will take up the next two hours of Sophie’s life. “Let me see what you got.”

.

.

As Sophie brings two glasses of wine over to the living room, Ryan puts a throw pillow on the ground and tells Sophie to sit on it.

“But the couch—”

“Is for me!” Ryan plops down with her feet on either side of the pillow. She looks like they’ve got church in the morning and the hot comb’s smoking on the tray beside her. “You know the set up,” Ryan says.

“True. Care to tell me why?” Sophie’s hair is fine.

Ryan’s nose quirks up the way it does when she needs to keep her emotions in check. She shrinks into her chest. “When I was sad, my mama used to play with my hair. She’d claim that she was oiling my scalp, but mostly, she ran her fingers through it. Gave me a little massage until I felt better, or went to sleep. I am willing to do that for you, if you want to actually relax.”

Relaxing does sound better than drinking a lot of wine and crying. Besides, Ryan studies Sophie’s face like she wants to find every crack and smooth it over. How could Sophie say no?

She sets the wine down and sits onto the pillow. Instinct takes over as she scoots back until her back’s to the couch and rests her neck against the side of the cushion. Ryan does a little happy dance that shakes the couch. She presses play on the movie, and Sophie watches the credits. She does. She sees that much for sure. But once Ryan slips her fingers into Sophie’s hair, Sophie tunes all the way out.

A light lavender scent hits her nose each time Ryan’s hands shift towards the crown of her head. Did Ryan put on a perfume, or is that an essential oil? Lavender’s meant to be calming. Soothing. Sophie wants to drown in it.

As Ryan massages her way along Sophie’s scalp, the world melts away. No pain, no drama, just a weightlessness that eases down her body and makes her want to cry. Her body sinks into the softness. The peace and stability of knowing hands and the right amount of pressure to send tingles through her skin. Then Ryan’s short nails get involved, lightly scratching, and Sophie barely bites down on a moan.

Ryan must still hear it. A little chuckle shakes the couch. She doesn’t comment thankfully. Sophie doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed right now. Too lost in the feel of Ryan’s hands on her. If this is what Ryan can do with just Sophie’s head —

Sophie’s eyes fly open. She needs to get a grip.

Ryan’s fingers snake down to Sophie’s shoulders. Again, the only grip Sophie can focus on is Ryan’s. Sophie lasts another few minutes of this high before sighing out, “Marry me.”

She figures Ryan will laugh at that too. They’ve joked enough about dates, both in and out of the cowl. Ryan doesn’t even stop touching her. Ryan leans down rather than keeping the distance. The shift in position tightens her thighs on either side of where Sophie sits. She waits until her breath is a warm whisper against Sophie’s ear to let out the sexiest little laugh. Sophie genuinely stops breathing.

“If you think this is good, you’re not ready.”

In an instant, Sophie would really like to be. Ready, willing, anything and everything if it feels this good and Ryan stays this close to her. Her face is on fire as she turns her head to see Ryan. Fuck, Ryan’s lips are right there. Teasing and parted, and Ryan’s tongue dips out to wet them. Sophie drags her gaze up from Ryan’s lips to meet Ryan’s hooded, sparkling eyes. Oh she knows exactly what she’s doing to Sophie. She’s enjoying this.

Ryan’s voice still sounds teasing. “Watch the movie, Sophie.”

“I’ll watch what I want to watch,” Sophie shoots back.

Ryan takes that as the challenge it is. She holds the stare and kneads her thumbs into the backs of Sophie’s shoulders. Sophie’s eyelids flutter, and she struggles again to keep from audibly moaning. At least this time, she catches the little gulp Ryan does.

Ryan scoots back onto the couch, up to her full — albeit little — seated height. Sophie turns further, and she tries not to think too hard about looking up at Ryan from between Ryan’s legs. It must be on her face though since Ryan actually averts her eyes.

“Soph....” Ryan’s voice strains. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Ryan started it with that ‘if you think this is good’ comment. She is not putting this back on Sophie.

Ryan groans, flustered in a way that should not look as cute as it does. “You know what! You — we — just look over there.” She takes a hand off Sophie to point back at the TV. “I am trying to be a good friend right now. To both of you.”

And there goes the fun. Sophie turns back to the TV. She really has no idea what’s happening in this movie. She doesn’t want to ask either. They’re damn near fifteen minutes in. She’s not going back in the movie, or with life. She’s not going to break down over losing Kate again. She has no reason to. She’s spent more time with Ryan this week than she did with Kate. She’s fine.

Ryan clears her throat. “Talking with her today was, like, everything I’d imagined it would be. She’s funny and witty, and she has great taste in everything. Present company included. I can see why you’d love her. And why it would be easier to not try to deal with those feelings of loss all over again.”

Sophie drops her head back against the couch. Her ceiling’s not nearly as interesting to look at as Ryan. Or Kate. “Do we have to do this?”

“We’re not doing anything else so….” Her narrowed eyes say exactly what she means by ‘anything else.’

“There are other things, Ryan.” Besides giving in to the tension that flares between them, besides shifting an already unstable dynamic past its breaking point. Probably many, many times.

Ryan holds her hands together in her lap. “Well, you’re clearly not interested in the movie, so: your call. What does the great Sophie Moore want to do with her break up night?”

Sophie’s eyes dance as she gets up to kneel in front of Ryan. (Yes, Ryan glances at her through what looks like a haze of lust and concern. Yes, she blinks, and all that emotion slips back under the base gleam in Ryan’s eyes. No, Sophie does not want to think about how many times Ryan might’ve looked at her like this without ever noticing.)

“Well, Ryan Wilder, there is one thing that I have been dying to do.”

.

.

“You have to— Sophie, please listen before we end up falling.” Ryan glares up at Sophie. They’re standing on a building that Ryan says is the best jumping point to the Bat-roof. It’s lower down, which is probably why Sophie has never seen either of the Batwomen coming.

Ryan’s face is torn between excitement and dread at sharing her red and black baton with Sophie. She repeats for the third time which button to press to shoot the grappling hook, how to angle the body, and how to land so they don’t fall off the roof.

“I’m listening,” Sophie swears. She adjusts her stance so her feet are wide like Ryan instructed. She angles her body towards the other roof — their roof. She takes a steadying breath and gently plucks Ryan’s hand off the other end of the baton.

Ryan steps in to wrap her arms around Sophie’s waist. “You have to brace yourself for landing. And please do not let go of me. I’m holding on, but—”

“I won’t let go,” Sophie assures her. She wraps her left arm around Ryan and holds tight to the baton with her right. Okay, another steadying breath, and she jams her thumb into the button. The wire flies out, and in a breath, they soar up through the air. Wind whips around them, and Ryan squeezes so tight that her face is nearly in Sophie’s chest.

For her assurances, Sophie does not stick the landing. She stumbles the moment the wire ends, and Ryan stumbles with her. Both of them clatter onto the Bat-roof with a groan and a laugh and a tangle of limbs that ends with them side by side on the roof’s floor.

The air around them is quiet and warm and still has a hint of the smoke from all the fires in Gotham yesterday. Sophie has the fleeting thought that it might be easier with Ryan than she ever expected. What ‘it’ is, well, Sophie blinks that away.

She props herself up on her elbows. “Can we go again?”

Ryan laughs. “No recovery period with you.”

Sophie gets up and offers her hand to Ryan, who takes it without hesitation. She tugs harder than she needs to. Ryan pops up with little more than a breath between them. She uses her free hand to tuck Ryan’s hair behind her ear. Lets her finger trail down Ryan’s neck.

Sophie whispers, “Oh, Wilder, you have no idea.” Ryan’s dramatic groan of reply makes Sophie laugh harder than she has all day. "Come on, round two."

Ryan pouts as Sophie heads for the stairs. Ryan points out, "I normally just jump off."

"What's the rush?" Sophie holds the door open for Ryan to come with her. "We've got all the time in the world."

/

/

a/n: We made it through season two, and I love these two so much. What about you?

[nancylou444]

I tried to be nice

Replies to this post:

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Became this:

THEM:  hi! thanks for the answers I really appreciate the discussion. normally if someone ships something I don’t like or something like that, I’ll just leave them alone but.. just to be clear I completely respect all of your opinions, even agree with some of them, even if we might disagree on the incest and Castiel haha. So I don’t mean any disrespect with this at all, please let me know if I’m out of line though!  

 But... I saw some things you said, and they come across to me in a way that I don’t think you intended? I feel really awkward sending this haha, you’re very nice and I don’t think you said anything on purpose, but I just.. wanted to let you know that some of the things regarding your opinion on certain characters come across not very well? I don’t think it’s intentional or anything, and I don’t mean to call you out at all which is why I didn’t want to point it out in the replies y’know?  

 Don’t get me wrong though, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with not liking castiel or destiel. I’ve been watching the show for a while with my dad, and he isn’t a huge fan either, I don’t think that’s a problem :) 

I’d continue without waiting for a response but I don’t want to say something you’ve already been told, or continue without knowing if I’ve said something out of line already 😅

ME:  I'm kind of distracted dealing with my Mom's rehab center. But you can keep going.

THEM: Alright! I’ve tried rephrasing this a million times but I don’t know how to make it seem not antagonistic. I promise I don’t mean that you’re doing it intentionally, it’s just, uh a lot of your criticism of spn feels like it could be read as homophobic? Again I don’t think YOU are I just wanted you to know it kind of reads that way!

That sounded so confrontational. I really don’t mean it that way 😭

ME: HOMOPHOBIC? Really? A lot of the 'proof' your fellow shippers use border on stereotypes but you think I'M homophobic? Considering my top two ships are Wincest and Malec. Yeah, sounds confrontational.

THEM:  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I guess there’s no other way to say it, but I understand why you feel accused. What do you mean by proof..?

Also I don’t really think having gay ships means you can’t be homophobic. *I* used to be homophobic years ago, and I’m a gay person!

ME:  How old are you? https://nancylou444.tumblr.com/post/154098904136/a-guide-to-dean-winchesters-imaginary-bisexuality

THEM:  yeah this is starting to get frustrating. I’m gonna be real with you, why does it matter if people think dean is bisexual? like, bottom line, that is my question for you

and your answer will determine if your veracity is homophobic. why does it matter that some people think dean is bisexual. not the fans or actors or writers or anything. why does it matter that some viewers will watch, and they will think dean is bisexual?

ME:  My problem isn't that some people think he is bi IN FANON, my problem is that they want CONFIRMATION OF A FANON SHIP. And that some people DENY how the show ended. These same people think that fake weddings are more canon than the FINAL EPISODE.

THEM:  I get what you mean, but how is it a fanon ship when it’s confirmed romantic from one side, and interpretable as mutually reciprocated in Latin America? (I’m going to disregard the bit about the wedding, because I’m a firm believer in Neil Gaiman variety death of the author. Also that’s just people having fun with fanon, who cares?)

ME:  Confirmed romantic?By whom MISHA, who wanted to sell necklaces? Have you never said 'i love you' to a FRIEND or FAMILY member? The dub is not canon, so don't even try using that as proof. Death of the author is just another way of saying MY VIEW OF THE SHOW IS SUPERIOR TO HOW THE CREATOR WANTS TO SEE IT. Jensen has said many times that the ship isn't canon and that Dean is straight. But it's better to believe what Misha says because he agrees with you. You think somebody is bi because of how they sit or the color clothes they wear? That would make YOU homophobe.

THEM:  LOL You know what? I change my answer. I looked through your blog and you ACTIVELY and viscously hate Cas, Charlie, Claire, Kaia and the implication that Jack may not be straight. You’ve said Cas coming out as gay and in love with dean makes the rest of his actions predatory, compared him to a teenage girl, called him creepy, and openly rejoiced in your idea that dean looked ‘disgusted with him’. You said that Claire is awful, that Kaia is a wooden plank, that they ‘shoved them together’ for ‘woke points’ and said that Jody saying Claire was IN LOVE WITH Kaia ‘doesnt count’ and called it ‘lip service’. And it doesn’t end there! After all this, you said that you preferred the old better s4 Claire. Is it because she was ostensibly straight? Are you uncomfortable with queer women? And then you have the audacity to use these characters (Claire and Kaia and Charlie) as reasons to epicly own the Hellers and claim they already have represention. You are a completely disingenuous bitch and I don’t care to be nice to you anymore! I don’t feel AT ALL charitable toward you anymore, and I don’t care if you have gay ships. Gay people aren’t here for you to fetishize! You CONSTANTLY mock and ridicule jokes made by queer people regarding deans bisexuality or Cas being gay or any number of things. You constantly reaffirm that Dean is straight and call people who think otherwise delusional and disgusting, while you think dean is in romantic sexual love with his male sibling. You are openly hostile to the idea of non-binary jack and were pissed that Alcal endorsed that. You devalue Jack’s value and relationship to Cas who is, textually, his father figure. I have NO reason not to think that you are homophobic. I don’t care anymore! You’re a huge bitch and, judging by your prior responses and posts, a genuine dialogue regarding queerness in spn is impossible. You regard any instance of canonically queer moments ‘lip service’ and so regard it. You actively hate every canonically gay character and degrade them using traditionally homophobic tropes and stereotypes.

Feel free to explain how you aren’t homophobic. I’m so sorry if I got the wrong impression.

ME: Wow I see your true colors have come out HELLER.

THEM:  Idc if you think I’m mean. Go ahead and make a post about me lol, have fun with it. Give me a moment to respond to your paragraph it’s... a lot to dissect.

I’ll touch on your comments about the dub and the Spanish language in a moment. First though

I ’m gonna be real with you, I don’t think you know what death of the author is. Neil Gaiman’s variety of the dead author principal is that once canon ends, the story belongs to those that consume and engage with it. That’s... also literally the theme of supernaturals final season. Anyway I really recommend you read up on death of the author and Neil Gaiman’s takes on fanon. It’s a fun way to consume your media, and in the end that’s what I’m here for.

I don’t care what Misha says, and I don’t care what Jensen says! I think they are both queer because I have eyes and watched the show. I think it’s a lovely narrative that is supported by canon, and it’s fine if you disagree with that

On your last sentence there... lol. It’s a common joke in queer circles that gays can’t sit properly, specifically bisexuals. Same thing with the clothing, it’s a SUPER common joke for example that lesbians wear flannel. Maybe you need to go outside and talk to some normal, non-incest shipping queer people. But what do I know!

And finally... ‘the Spanish dub isnt canon’

I am literally cuban. My first language is SPANISH. my entire household speaks Spanish, and my family past 1st cousins don’t speak any English. My Boricua cousins have watched supernatural in full for years, and they watch it in Spanish. Do you think America is the center of the universe? Do you think our media is somehow less than yours, that our interpretations of English language media isn’t valid? What, do you think we are idiots who don’t know how to analyze literature and media? Do you think the people who work at Telemundo, people employed as dubbers and translators, you think they do a worse job than the American crew?

Why, because they aren’t American or don’t speak English? ‘Te amo’ said to a non family member is, in 99% of any instance, ROMANTIC. it’s something you say to your spouse in serious situations like weddings!! Even MARRIED people don’t normally say te amo, everyone uses te quiero unless it is very serious or romantic in context.

All of my family who are Spanish language, they heard dean say ‘y a yo ti, cas’ and think that they were in romantic love. Sorry dude! The United States might be the center of your universe, but Latin America is HUGE. Spanish is one of the most spoken languages in the WORLD. In fact, more people speak Spanish than English. Sorry that you seem to hate gay characters SO MUCH you have to say an entire language somehow isn’t valid to consume media in!

ME: 

Obviously this heller is batshit crazy. 

Some of those things she thinks I said just show she has no idea how to follow a tumblr thread. 

You are a completely disingenuous bitch and I don’t care to be nice to you anymore! I don’t feel AT ALL charitable toward you anymore, and I don’t care if you have gay ships. Gay people aren’t here for you to fetishize! You CONSTANTLY mock and ridicule jokes made by queer people regarding deans bisexuality or Cas being gay or any number of things. You constantly reaffirm that Dean is straight and call people who think otherwise delusional and disgusting, while you think dean is in romantic sexual love with his male sibling.

Wow. 

I have NO reason not to think that you are homophobic. I don’t care anymore! You’re a huge bitch and, judging by your prior responses and posts, a genuine dialogue regarding queerness in spn is impossible. You regard any instance of canonically queer moments ‘lip service’ and so regard it. You actively hate every canonically gay character and degrade them using traditionally homophobic tropes and stereotypes.

Where have I hated canon gay characters and degraded them using tropes and stereotypes? The bitch has me confused with HER FELLOW SHIPPERS. 

Gotta love how she is defending the Spanish dub. Hit a nerve did I? 

It’s a common joke in queer circles that gays can’t sit properly, specifically bisexuals. Same thing with the clothing, it’s a SUPER common joke for example that lesbians wear flannel. Maybe you need to go outside and talk to some normal, non-incest shipping queer people.

Now who is using stereotypes? 

[violetwolfraven]

Ray Molina: Best Dad Ever

For the March 11th explosion of content thing. Just Violet being a fantom and doing my part for this!

Tw: mentioned death, mentioned abusive parents, mentioned panic attack.

So the boys can be seen and heard when directly touching Julie after the whole post-Orpheum glowy hug thing but Ray doesn’t know that just yet.

What he does know is that Julie’s mental health took a rapid turn for the better for seemingly no reason and then a couple weeks later he found out she joined a band without telling him.

He’s not stupid. He knows that’s probably because of the band, though he is a bit confused as to how she even met them.

He kinda figures it’s a kids and your internet tricks thing but there’s some flaws to this theory.

1) He asks Flynn what she knows about the boys only... it seems like she doesn’t know much of anything. That’s weird because he knows Julie tells her practically everything.

2) The boys have American accents despite Julie claiming they’re from Sweden.

3) Carlos is a terrible liar and on the rare occasion Julie actually talks about the boys he gets this weirdly conspiratorial look.

So anyway Ray doesn’t really believe it’s as simple as ‘I met these 3 Swedish boys on the internet’ but he trusts his daughter’s judgement and he leaves it alone.

Anyway he has other things to focus on.

Such as how Ray has literally never been able to keep track of his keys/phone/hats/camera parts/stuff and now it seems to just pop up whenever he’s looking for it.

Also he keeps feeling like there’s someone with him around the house more and more.

Like not a malicious presence like Victoria fears, and definitely not like Rose is around watching him, but like someone is there.

Sometimes it feels like there’s more than one presence around. None of them familiar but all of them friendly.

Oddly enough, whatever or whoever it is feels almost like Julie or Carlos. Young and excitable and like a verse of a happy song. He’s not sure why they’re around, but they definitely don’t feel dangerous, so Ray doesn’t feel threatened.

But some days a better comparison might be to Trevor back when Rose first introduced him. Raw and fragile and very, very sad.

Ray tries to put on happy music or a Disney cartoon or something on those days and he doesn’t quite know why or how but the energy usually gets more positive when he does that.

Anyway after a while of this (after the Orpheum performance) he starts noticing weird things that Carlos and Julie do now.

Carlos will just carry around a small whiteboard and a couple pens and he erases it whenever Ray comes into the room but before he does it almost looks like there’s two, three, or even four sets of handwriting on there.

And he walks in on Julie talking to herself like. All the time.

Carlos doesn’t ask for help on his math homework anymore. Julie makes this insanely good chicken recipe for dinner once and then clearly panics and lies when asked where she got it. Flynn makes a set of rainbow friendship bracelets one day while she’s hanging out at the Molina house but he doesn’t see Julie wearing the match to the one she keeps.

Plus Carrie starts hanging out at their house again?? Out of the blue?? And none of the girls have a good explanation for how they made up??

Then later Nick Danforth-Evans (who Julie used to talk about having a crush on but hasn’t in a while) starts hanging around too and the kid seems... well, Ray doesn’t want to throw the word ‘traumatized’ around, but he’s jumpy and guarded in a way that can only be described as a little bit traumatized.

So all 5 kids are clearly keeping some secret and Ray’s getting suspicious and worried.

He sits them down and asks what’s going on. Like is one of them having problems at home, or..?

The kids, simultaneously:

Julie: no, we’re just all in a play together!

Carlos: we’re fine we’re just ghost hunting!

Flynn: we’re exhibiting bisexual-pansexual-lesbian solidarity!

Carrie: Julie and the Phantoms and Dirty Candi are doing a collaboration album!

Nick: we all joined jazz band??

Ray’s calling bullshit at this point.

Then Julie and Nick both look up directly at the same spot, somewhere a couple feet above the arm of the couch, which is seemingly just empty air.

Whatever it is, it doesn’t seem like the other kids can see it but they all seem to be waiting for something and Ray is wondering if they’re sharing a hallucination??? Are they all on drugs??? Should he be worried???

Then Julie says to meet them in the studio in 30 minutes. Flynn, Carrie, and Nick go home to give the Molina family some alone time.

*cue music performance where Ray is introduced to the boys*

So anyway Julie and Carlos (with the help of the ghosts whenever one of them has something to say and grabs Julie’s hand) give him a clearly-sugarcoated version of the last few months.

Ghosts of Trevor’s dead bandmates help Julie reconnect with music, they form a band, they meet another ghost, other ghost accidentally gets them involved with evil magician ghost, Nick got possessed, Carrie figured it out and helped plot to get him un-possessed, evil magician ghost is still out there and they’re sticking together so he can’t get any of them in the future.

Despite how they say it like it’s no big deal, Ray now understands why the kids have been acting so weird because all these things sound scary and painful.

Also the more he thinks about it, the more he worries about the fact that he has three 17-year-old boys sleeping in his garage who died terribly of food poisoning.

They are children and they died incredibly painfully and then almost got enslaved and/or erased from existence.

Then one day Ray’s feeling one of those presences around the house again and he realizes it’s probably one of Julie’s ghost boys.

Ray: who’s there?

Whoever it is freaks out and leaves, and Ray takes notes for next time.

The next time he feels someone in the room, he has a notepad ready and he writes down “Luke, Alex, or Reggie?” from what he remembers from Julie’s introductions.

Immediately, there’s a spike of anxiety in the room.

Ray: it’s okay. You can stay and we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’d like to know who it is I’m not talking to though.

There’s a few seconds of hesitation, and then the pen picks itself up and the name “Reggie” gets circled.

Ray: the bassist with the flannels, right?

Yeah, written in a teenage boy’s messy scrawl.

Ray: okay, do you want to watch a movie?

More hesitation, and Ray’s not sure what that’s about but he’s starting to suspect with the amount of fear still in the room, and there’s a good 20 seconds where Reggie doesn’t respond before I don’t know.

Ray: Moana or Tangled? Moana.

After that, he takes a page out of Carlos’s book and gets a small whiteboard with 3 pens that stick to it magnetically. Red for Reggie, blue for Luke, and pink for Alex.

Reggie has written conversations with him most, but Luke does sometimes too and Alex does least often but he’ll still request a movie occasionally.

All of them are wary around him and Ray doesn’t quite know what to do to earn their trust. But he asks questions about their preferences on things. He says they did good on their latest show. He remembers which movies are their favorites and introduces them to music he thinks are their styles.

Luke is a big fan of Fall Out Boy and Reggie fucking loves Taylor Swift.

Alex is less consistent but occasionally Ray will play a song and he’ll write something like This is a cool song.

He starts to be able to tell which energy is which even before they write who it is right around the time the boys start to be visible for longer and longer after playing.

They play a really good show and stay visible for like 2 full days and that’s the first (but not the last) time Ray really gets to get to know them.

He starts noticing after really good shows like that one how even more now that they can be seen, they’re all a little... off from how Nick and Carrie and Flynn act around him.

With Luke it’s mostly because he’s trying so hard to impress because *gasp* he and Julie are a thing but there’s still a little bit of tension that seems like it comes from something deeper than just being nervous around his girlfriend’s dad.

With Reggie it’s subtle caution. Like he’s happy to be hanging out with Ray but he’s constantly ready for something to go wrong. There’s a catch in his smile, a hesitation before he states an opinion, a practiced carefulness where he changes the subject at any sign of even mild frustration.

But with Alex... it’s mostly just avoidance. Like if he poofs in while visible and it just so happens that no one else is there, he’ll find an excuse to leave.

And Ray lets him, of course. He doesn’t want the kid to feel trapped. But all of the boys’ behavior bothers him.

On the rare occasion they spend more than 2 seconds together Alex is really quiet. He won’t admit if Ray guessed wrong about a song and he doesn’t like it even though his body language makes it clear he’s not vibing with it. Actually, his body language pretty much just spells I am very uncomfortable in every situation where Julie or Carlos went to the bathroom or someone went to grab a snack and they’re alone even for 5 minutes while he’s visible.

Ray’s not stupid. He knows three 17-year-olds don’t end up getting their instruments left to their only living bandmate’s new best friend’s family by having good relationships with their own families.

He doesn’t exactly want to bring it up, but he kind of knows.

Then one day he’s sitting with all 3 boys watching a movie while he fixes something on his camera and Julie and Carlos are at school and he messes up a little part that means he has to start over (don’t @ me I know nothing about cameras) and swears out of frustration louder than he meant to.

He reaches for the screwdriver on the coffee table and

And Reggie and Alex both flinch.

Ray hadn’t even noticed they were tracking his movements, but while Luke seems to just have moved his focus from the TV to his friends in concern, Alex and Reggie both look too tense to play it off.

He figures its as good a time as any to have a chat cause these boys aren’t his sons but they don’t have anyone else acting as a parent figure to them and he feels the need to take care of them. He pauses the movie.

Ray: Can we have a talk? About you boy’s families?

Naturally Luke jumps in to try to distract him immediately, telling a story about his dad taking him fishing once, but he stops when Ray asks him to stop.

Ray: That’s not what I’m talking about and I think you all know it.

The boys are all still silent. Luke looks 500% ready to deflect again. Reggie and Alex look more like they’re expecting to get yelled at or worse.

Ray: I just want to help. I’ll drop it if you want me to but I want you to know that I would never do something to hurt any of you intentionally. You can talk to me about anything if you need to.

He means to make it an option of ‘you can talk but you don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ but the boys clearly don’t take it as such with how Luke starts talking immediately.

Luke: I ran away when I was 17. My mom and dad didn’t want me to stay in Sunset Curve, I think they thought it was going to get me into drugs or something.

They have a short talk about parents having good intentions not equalling them being right to push Luke so hard they pushed him away and it’s okay to feel hurt by that and then press play on the movie again and Ray thinks he sees all 3 boys relax somewhat during that.

A couple weeks later Reggie comes in visible and hesitantly asks about watching this series he saw when Carlos was scrolling through Netflix once.

Mid-episode he blurts out

Reggie: I don’t want to look for my parents and I feel weird about that.

He rambles for a while about knowing he was lucky that his family had money and his mom and dad told him they loved him and stuff but also he remembers so many fights between them where he felt caught in the middle and it never ended well if he chose a side but there was no way to win because they’d both turn on him if he didn’t so it was just this constant balancing act to try to prevent fights in the first place.

Reggie: I felt like I was walking on a tightrope. Like, all the time. I tried so hard to keep them from getting mad at each other or at me. Only it never worked and it was always a question of when they were going to snap next and it was confusing cause one day we’d go to the zoo and everything would be fine and the next they’d yell at me and send me to bed without food.

He feels guilty for not wanting to put in the effort to find them because he’s pretty sure on some level they did love him but he doesn’t want to see them again.

And he doesn’t want to know if they even miss him at all because when he got older and the fighting got too intense he would sneak off to Luke’s or Bobby’s and no matter if he stayed away for an hour or a couple days they never seemed to notice he was gone.

Ray listens and a lot of things about Reggie start to make sense. How he’s so careful not to catch him in a bad mood. How he shuts down whenever anyone raises their voice. How he helps out so much in an effort to stay on Ray’s good side.

It’s a day and a half after the latest show so they can’t really hug but Ray does what he can to provide comfort and validate his feelings anyway because damn Reggie is a good kid and he didn’t deserve that.

Reggie and Luke get more comfortable with coming to him for meaningful chats, or even just to vent about whatever’s going on lately.

Eventually they seem to feel almost as comfortable with him as Julie and Carlos do so it kinda becomes a routine.

Like Julie will ask for cuddles when she’s sad about missing Rose or she’ll walk in and vent about Carrie and Flynn being so obvious about liking each other but somehow not realizing it’s mutual and she and Nick are 3rd wheeling and going insane.

Carlos will excitedly ramble about his latest baseball practice shenanigans for an hour but also sometimes ask for someone to watch old home movies or listen to old CDs from Rose and the Petal Pushers with him.

And that’s normal. That’s been Ray’s life since his kids started talking. But the thing is that it’s just as normal when

When Luke tells how he’s still angry about his music getting stolen because it feels like a part of him was taken away and he worked hard on those songs. Also one day he very shyly admits

Luke: I like Julie a lot.

Ray: I know, kiddo.

Luke: You’re not mad?

Ray: As long as you two make each other happy, no. I’m happy for you.

And it’s just as normal when Reggie talks about missing his little cousin Kelsi and wondering where she ended up only for them to look her up and find out she’s a major Broadway writer/director now oh my god— and also

Reggie: I think I like boys. Like boys are cute. But I know I’m not gay because girls are cute too and ugh it’s confusing it’s probably nothing I guess everybody goes through this.

Ray: Have you ever thought you might be bisexual?

Reggie: Bi-what-now?

Ray, already digging out his old flannels that he would have passed down to Julie except they’re too big for her: It’s okay to like both, kiddo.

All this is great of course. It’s great how Reggie and Luke aren’t afraid anymore and they feel validated and seen and listened to.

But months have passed and Ray notices how Alex remains separate. He still avoids Ray when he can and stays quiet and cautious when he can’t.

Like Ray still senses Alex around him sometimes but never right after a show when he’s visible. He doesn’t come to him with problems. He’ll stay and listen when Ray plays a song he thinks he’d like, but he still seems so cautious and Ray doesn’t know how to help.

He asks Luke one day while he’s introducing him to a Wicked bootleg if he’s done something specific to scare Alex away.

Luke gets this really dark look on his face and he just

Luke: Let’s just say that my parents didn’t do everything perfectly, but they’re saints compared to Alex’s.

Ray decides to drop it, but Luke wants to reassure him.

Luke: You haven’t done anything wrong. He’s just not very comfortable around most adults in general. It’s one thing when we’re invisible, but...

Ray: I just wish I could help.

Luke: You do help. But it took a while for Alex to trust me.

The conversation ends there because Luke starts getting really into Defying Gravity.

But then that night Julie comes in with a kind of out of character movie request so Ray thinks Luke talked to her.

Because Julie does not like most romcoms that aren’t musicals. She gets bored. But she requests Love, Simon anyway.

Ray kind of sees what she’s trying to do there because now that he’s thinking about it the boys haven’t really seen many things with queer rep. Especially not queer main characters.

And nobody’s really told him that Alex is gay but cmon he’s an elder bi. He has accurate gaydar so he can support his queer ducklings.

Despite how the boys all know being gay is more socially acceptable now (they found out about Nick’s dads and the girls gave them the ‘gay marriage is legal now’ talk) they still seem kind of baffled by how there’s an entire romcom centered around a gay boy and it did well.

From there Ray tries to find more movies and tv shows with canon queer representation.

And he keeps giving Alex space but also trying his best to show him that he’s not like his parents.

For a long time nothing changes beyond Luke and Reggie getting increasingly comfortable with him.

Well that’s not completely true actually cause Reggie starts tagging along to photo shoots and becomes Ray’s unofficial mostly invisible assistant.

Then the band plays an amazing show and the boys stay visible for a full week.

Around the middle of that week, Ray goes out to the garage to find Reggie and see if he wants to come on a photo shoot.

Reggie isn’t out there but Alex is.

And he’s crying. Hard.

He looks like he’s going to poof out when he sees Ray there but Ray’s already 100% ready to do exactly what he always does when he walks in on Julie or Carlos crying.

Ray: Alex. Hey, buddy, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s going to be okay.

Alex freezes and it breaks Ray’s heart how that kind of concern is clearly not what he’s expecting.

Ray: Are you okay with being touched?

Alex looks kind of like he’s in shock but he nods.

He clearly doesn’t really know what to do with it but he kind of melts into it when Ray hugs him and he just sobs on his shoulder.

When he’s stopped crying enough he starts rambling about how he’s been looking everywhere but he can’t find Willie.

At that point he’s basically having a panic attack so finding out what’s wrong takes a backseat compared to calming him down and Ray knows how to do that because he and Rose used to do that for Trevor all the time.

Ray: Alex, breathe. In for 4 counts, hold for 7, out for 8. Breathe with me.

It takes a couple minutes until Alex has calmed down enough, but once he does, Ray asks what’s wrong and what’s happening with Willie.

He only vaguely knows who Willie is from what he’s been told by the other kids but he knows he’s important to Alex.

So Alex takes a deep breath and explains that Caleb confronted him and basically said the boys had to join his house band or he would make sure he’d never see Willie again. And he doesn’t want to ask his family to sacrifice themselves for him but he doesn’t want to lose the boy he loves either.

Ray wants to throw hands but from what the kids have told him about Caleb, he has a better idea.

Ray: Here’s what we’re gonna do, buddy. Reggie said Caleb has this super catchy number, The Other Side of Hollywood?

Alex: Yeah?

Ray: How quickly do you think Luke and Julie could come up with an arrangement for you four to cover that and how desperate do you think Covington would be to make sure a video of that never gets published without crediting him?

Alex: :o

Spoiler alert: Julie and Luke, in collaboration with Carrie, can come up with an arrangement very quickly.

They do a private performance of it and film it and basically blackmail Caleb into letting Willie go.

Willie has an empty house that used to be his parents’ that he still considers his so he mostly crashes there if he needs to. Also he loves skating around so much that he never stays in one place for very long.

Julie can see him but she can’t make him visible so it’s a little odd but Ray gets an orange pen for him for the whiteboard and he finds skateboarding videos and stuff for when he visits.

They eventually figure out that he can be part of the magic by adding him to the band so they give him a tambourine and yay now Willie can be seen but that’s later.

The biggest immediate change to come out of all this is Alex.

He’s not afraid of Ray anymore for the most part (healing isn’t linear and he can’t help a few bad days) and he starts actually talking to him. Not about serious stuff but he’s talking. Mostly just rambling about how Willie makes him feel or how Luke and Reggie have been being annoying lately.

Then one day he comes in really nervous and says something about Reggie saying he talked to Ray about his parents.

And Ray confirms it and asks if there’s anything Alex needs to tell him.

Alex sits down and clearly he’s been holding this in for a long time and he just unloads how he came out to his parents because his youngest sister found his diary and he was scared she’d tell them. They didn’t react well and when he cried out of fear and frustration his father... gave him something to cry about.

His father did that a few more times, trying to ‘make him man up,’ and Alex never told his bandmates but he always knew they could see the bruises and that was why Bobby made it so clear his garage was open and his house was a safe place to run.

But Alex didn’t no matter how bad things got because he guessed some small part of him thought he deserved it but mostly it was about how his oldest sister dropped out of college and ghosted the family and Alex was the next-oldest so he felt responsible for protecting his younger sisters even if they both had learned behaviors from their parents and hated him.

Then that summer he found out his parents were planning on sending him away to some Christian camp where they’d ‘fix’ him.

Alex made it clear that he wouldn’t go and if they tried to make him he’d run away, but their ultimatum was that he couldn’t live under their roof if he was gay.

So he didn’t. And it was a situation somewhere between getting kicked out and running away, but he packed a bag and never went back.

He ran to Bobby’s house, he wrote a whole bunch of angry songs, and he tried not to think too much about how he understood why his older sister left and how he was doing the exact same thing to his younger sisters.

By the time he’s done explaining everything Ray’s trying not to cry but Alex is definitely already crying mostly out of anger.

Alex: I hated them all. I hated Molly for leaving me and I hated my mom for turning my little sisters against me and I hated my dad for hurting me and I even hated Anna and Josie for not standing by me and I just hated them all so much. I still do. And it is so stupid that I feel guilty for that because they were terrible to me and I was 16 and I didn’t deserve that but I do feel guilty for it because they’re my family and I hate them.

Ray doesn’t have much to say because damn this is heavy stuff but he assures him that after what he went through he has a right to hate his blood family.

Alex tells him awkwardly when he’s calmed down a bit that Luke is the only other person he’s ever told about all this, because after he ran away they dated for a few months before figuring out that they were better as friends.

Reggie and Bobby guessed parts of it and Julie probably has too but none of them have asked and Alex thinks he might tell Reggie and Julie someday if it ever comes up but he never did end up telling Bobby.

Ray assures him that he won’t tell anyone and also that he would never do that. He would never do anything to hurt Alex or the others on purpose.

He makes a silent promise that no one will ever hurt one of his kids like that again and if Caleb or anyone else ever tries, they will regret it.

But anyway on to happier matters.

Willie visits a lot and he’s a little skittish around Ray but he loosens up after he jokingly mentions one time that Willie and Alex are like the beginning of the Sk8ter Boy song.

Alex and Ray might be Denim Jacket Buddies but once Ray digs his old leather jacket out of the closet he becomes Leather Jacket Buddies with Reggie.

You’d think he has to tell Carlos and Reggie off the most for breaking things but he doesn’t. It’s Carlos and Luke.

Also Ray doesn’t consider himself an overprotective dad but Julie and Luke are not allowed to be alone in a room with the door closed.

Neither are Alex and Willie technically but it’s harder to enforce it when they’re both ghosts.

Lmao all the kids follow the rules anyway because they love Ray and he’s not being unreasonable.

He helps Julie in her plot to get Carrie and Flynn together and also he helps Nick plan how to make a move on that cute boy on his lacrosse team.

Because Nick loves his dads but they’re disaster gays. Neither of those men can properly flirt. They fell in love because of a baseball rivalry and Nick doesn’t trust their advice.

Pride month rolls around and Julie makes sure to book a big gig the day before the parade so the boys will be visible and tangible.

Trevor’s on tour and can’t get away and Flynn’s parents are working and Nick’s are busy too so Ray finds himself escorting this whole little gaggle of various queer ducklings to pride.

Carlos isn’t quite sure what he is yet so he’s just got a rainbow flag painted on his cheek and a shirt that says I love my bi sister on it.

Julie’s all decked out in the bi colors, complete with ribbons braided into her hair and a flag to use as a cape. She made the tutu herself and it took her hours but it turned out really good.

Luke’s got a tank top with the pan colors and a trans flag as a cape and also yknow face paint of course.

Reggie browsed thrift shops everywhere until he found a flannel in the bi colors and he’s got that along with pink purple and blue laces in his combat boots and what Ray is really hoping is temporary dye and not spray paint in his hair.

Alex has a rainbow shirt that matches Willie’s and matching bracelets with Flynn. Also he painted rainbow hearts on his cheeks and put a lot of effort into them and they look really symmetrical.

Willie’s of course matching shirts with Alex and also he has sparkly rainbow socks and a flag to use as a cape.

Carrie’s got a whole ensemble in the lesbian colors complete with a pride wig and also matching necklaces with Flynn.

Flynn’s matching colors with Carrie but more in her style with of course matching jewelry with the people closest to her. She’s got friendship bracelets corresponding to Alex and Julie.

Nick’s got a pan tshirt and a fedora with a ribbon in pink yellow and blue plus face paint cause all of them have face paint. Nothing too crazy.

Meanwhile Ray’s got a bi bandanna and one of those shirts that’s like Free Dad Hugs.

Plus everyone did each other’s nails with varying degrees of success the night before and Julie did Ray’s so they turned out good.

Nick’s lacrosse buddies and the rest of Dirty Candi are around somewhere but they didn’t ride in the same car so they’re not that relevant.

They party. Celebrate being alive. Idk I’ve never gotten to go to pride.

And afterwards they all go back to the Molina house and the couch isn’t really big enough for all of them but it’s okay it’s not like they know how to sit correctly anyway.

They all kind of pile together and cuddle and watch movies until Flynn and Nick’s parents can come pick them up.

And Ray just looks around and realizes that

Sure only 2 of them are his biologically

And 3 of the others have good parent(s) who are actively a part of their lives

The remaining 4 are technically dead

But he has 9 children and he’s totally fine with that.

Cause he’s Ray Molina: best dad ever.

Victoria’s head is going to explode when she finds out that not only is the Molina house really haunted, but he’s adopted the ghosts.

[alexthedrummerboy]

Okay, my brain is currently being both Ryan and Shane in the “I’ve connected the dots meme” but every time Luke and Emily are on screen together, Luke is wearing long sleeves. Both when he visits her and in the flashback scene of them fighting. Any significance there, do you reckon? Or am I just spouting nonsense?

FJDKSLJ “i’ve connected the dots” “you have connected shit--” “-i’ve connected them”

there’s a post or two floating around in the jatp ether about this!! about how luke only wears sleeves when he’s with emily but i would like to suggest a theory.

so the scenes where we see luke wearing long sleeve shirts (not counting his lesbian flannel) are in the scenes with emily and that one scene with julie in the hallway; the rest i believe he’s either wearing a tank top or a short sleeved shirt. i feel like maybe the long sleeves are a way to show luke’s emotional vulnerability??

in the scene with emily, they’re fighting obviously which shows a lot of emotion and passion and vulnerability to some respect because you’re getting so emotional that you’re yelling and fighting to be heard

and in the scene with julie in the hallway, he’s essentially telling her that she makes his song writing better which, for luke who’s entire life is music, is pretty much a love confession which also takes a lot of vulnerability!!

so tldr; i don’t think you’re spouting nonsense, i think there’s something super feasible here!

[agathaharknes]

yennaia + gamer au

This was supposed to be three sentences and definitely not crack but I just had to... sksjsjssksjjs.

Yennaia prompt: Gamer AU.

LINK TO ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN IN THE REPLIES.

Word count: 1.8k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

Tissaia really had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps to appease Rita. Perhaps because her addiction to nicotine had worsened over the course of one year of a bloody Continent-wide pandemic and she was loath to use her credit card every time she needed a new pack of cigarettes. Perhaps she was going through a midlife crisis to cope with the fact that being the Chancellor of Aretuza College was already stressful enough without half the generations there trying to fool her subordinates into thinking cardboard replicas or even mannequins counted as attendance or simply because the rest of the Board of Governors (Stregobor) couldn't differentiate between what could be said through an email and what required her to clean her entire house so the background of her call was pristine.

Her controller vibrated in her hands, (Why, for the love of the Gods, couldn't that setting be turned off?) her knuckles turning white from gripping it so strongly. "Oh, for fu- heaven's sake." There, she had been ambushed. Again. A funny and wholly unexpected thing happened, though, one of the users turned on her companions, offing the lot of them with clean headshots the brunette definitely couldn't pull off in the span of twenty seconds.

"Uhh..." What does one say when your virtual saviour just betrayed her entire party on a whim and was being cursed at obnoxiously loudly and vulgarly for it?

Yennefer ignored Sabrina calling her names that absolutely applied to her and her hormonal reaction to a lovely blue-eyed MILF the likes of which she had only seen in her dreams. "No thanks needed, love. I was getting tired of seeing you frown like someone had keyed your car every time you got killed. A pretty thing like you should only have cause to smile." Oh, Gods, now she sounded like a creepy old man that lived in his mum's basement. Great. Good job. Her Social Studies major was an absolute hit. Fuck her life. Fuck Oxenfurt College. And fuck Sabrina's witch-like cackling while she was at it. "Name’s Yennefer." She choked out miserably.

Tissaia scowled at her laptop. Hackers. Amazing. This was the best day of her new normal life. "Mind telling me how you broke through the most expensive antivirus in the Continent, dear? Because now I really need a refund." Now she also needed to contact Aretuza’s IT team on a Saturday night, because she was not about to mess any further with these blasphemous machines, thank you very much.

Wait, what? "That wasn't me... You left your camera on." The woman legitimately squealed at that, her oversized jumper sliding down her left shoulder and exposing just a glimpse of her collarbone as she pinned up her hair into a bun with... were those pens fashioned as swords? Oh, bugger, this was so not the time to get turned on! "Are you alright?" Mercifully Sabrina, Renfri and Phillipa were already accosting someone else, else she was sure the brunette would've completely lost it, more than she already was doing, anyways. "Hello?" No answer.

Tissaia was fishing for her boots when she started ranting, “Oh, don’t you worry! I’m fine! Just dandy! This is exactly how I wanted my life to go.” She motioned with her hand to the space around her. “I wished for nothing more than dealing with complete morons from nine to six, five days a week, whilst trying to make sure my sanity doesn't desert me.” Biting her lower lip for a moment she began checking that the ends of the laces were the same length when she pulled them up. “Running right after to my local grocery store to buy more instant meals that are probably going to give me cancer in five years if the bullshit articles my mother keeps sending me-”

Yennefer had told herself she wasn’t going to allow this wasn’t going to get any creepier than her misguided comment but she still had a gift code for that nice liquor store which conveniently had retailers popping up every six blocks everywhere for the last few months, especially in Thanned isle, only Gods knew why. “This bloody succubus of a twat that is my best friend has been forcing me to constantly use this cursed game by changing the password for my email and then Aretuza’s server and then-” Bingo. One text to Philippa and they had her IP address, with a mortified Triss already calling Jaskier since she was the only one that had managed to get a decent scholarship at that posh college.

This was her future wife who was about to jump from a bridge from the looks of her and they just had to do humanity a great service by saving her from herself and from sobriety.

“Can you believe that tosser? I am a lesbian! I spent my teenage years clad in flannel until my girlfriends staged an intervention kind of lesbian! Yes, Vilgefortz, I will sue you for harassment in the workplace and I will blacklist you. No, Vilgefortz, I don’t want to break quarantine to go on a date with you and I definitely do not want your disgusting cologne anywhere near my-” Tissaia’s head shot up, her doorbell was ringing and she pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching for a new, disposable, mask.

“You stay right there.” She threatened the girl, who had the most beautiful violet… Perhaps she really ought to let Coral get her a therapist. It rang again. “Gods-damn-it.” She thought.

Her plan was going marvellously. She would only have to sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few weeks for blackmailing Sabrina (Who honestly hadn’t the slightest talent to pass off plagiarism as a sudden stroke of genius in her final project without her aid.) into going along with this. The blonde was lighting the candles around the monitor without trying to burn her hair off and had given away her best bottle of cheap but still good wine for the cause. Thanks to Renfri and her frankly psychotic, owl obsessed, girlfriend she already knew what she would be replacing her trauma-ridden last name with! Splendid!

The brunette shut the door on Jaskier’s face after taking the brown paper bag from his hands, spraying the bottle of vodka inside it with so much disinfectant that it dripped down onto her carpet. Taking off her gloves and disposing of them, she grabbed a knife from the counter and ignoring the annoying blue light that came from the kitchen table, “Oh, shit. You’re soulmates. I’ll tell the rest of the girls we’re all fucked.” Tissaia cut off the upper part of the glass in one smooth hit, like Calanthe had taught her when the then teacher could still be considered fun by her groups of friends.

“Shut up, tiddybug!” She heard Yennefer sing-song.

Feeling like being crass the blue-eyed woman took a rather large swing directly from the bottle. Sitting back down, she sighed. Yennefer took a dignified sip from her wine; she could do balanced when her significant other to-be needed to let loose. “Did you like the bottle? It has good reviews from… wait a minute… apparently several alcoholics who don’t know what a budget is.”

Tissaia’s face paled. “I thought you weren’t a hacker.” The woman muttered. She didn’t fancy getting kidnapped and… No, no, no. Fucking Rita. What was the cost of moving, again? If she slept four hours less a day and split her cleaning time in two she could probably trade this house for Stregobor's in-

“I am not!” Yennefer cried. Bloody hell. “You just mentioned that you worked at Aretuza and-” Sabrina had probably started a group call and Phillipa was indeed hacking into her computer to save her arse. The Redanian was currently writing a script for her to follow. “Your username in the game is your surname. My friends and I tried to get into that school a few years back and I do remember that the Chancellor is a woman and that her last name is de Vries.” Her username wasn’t her last name, it was actually something that suggested she was an Ice Queen of the highest order. Queen Elsa from the movie Frozen would be intimidated kind of Ice Queen.

“Everyone is aware the highest-ranking members of the faculty live in chalets near the castle, pardon, the building.” True. According to Triss, that was a part of their contract that if unfulfilled prohibited them from working there ever again. To Yennefer that seemed borderline cruel, forcing them to be available at all hours like circus animals for juniors that didn’t deserve their spots.

“My best friend is a student there and she knows which one is your home because she wants to eventually be a teacher.” Partially true. Until that day came, Triss, like any rational individual, avoided the Chapter’s Village like the plague lingered inside, and wouldn’t be caught dead there unless she had to stop Sabrina from doing something stupid because of the anarchist phase she was going through. Jaskier was an acquaintance of hers of sorts because Triss had tutored his boyfriend Geralt in Biology and being daddy’s boy, he knew which one was Tissaia’s house because he had almost gotten expelled like fifteen times.

“I honestly just wanted to do something nice for you, you sounded like you needed it and… I know quarantine hasn’t been lifted once in Temeria since it all started.” Philippa wrote then that she would probably make for a decent actor without flashing her breasts to the audience every five minutes. She pursed her lips and replied in the mock post-it note to fuck off.

“I… I… Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I’m sorry, darling.” Her pale cheeks flushed at the term of endearment that slipped her tongue and Tissaia bowed down her head, red-painted nails caressing the glass bottle almost reverently. “Say, why don’t you tell me what your email address is and I send you my mobile via chat? The explosions in the background aren’t that, uhm, comforting to listen to when I’d much rather be hearing your voice.” Should she have looked up she would have seen the smile that threatened to split Yennefer’s face. “Only if you want to, of course! I- what am I even saying? Never mi-”

“No! Wait!” She placated. Sabrina squeezed her shoulder as she went to retrieve her phone charger, offering her a genuine smile. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Said Tissaia, an awed sound leaving her throat when blue finally meet with lilac. Gods, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rita could have whichever bottle, all the liquor she wanted from the school’s cellar for indirectly enabling this.

Was one week a proper enough courting period to then buy the engagement ring? Or should she just have Philippa get her the best, costliest one from that jewellery eshop they all liked through some minor fraud that would take her like half an hour at most, today? “Good.” Yennefer de Vries had such a nice ring to it.

[vashti-lives]

i decided to rate the flannel in this year’s joann pride collection

First up we have the category I like to call, so bland I only know its supposed to be gay because of the label.

Its rainbow stripes, which is cute? Who doesn’t love a rainbow stripe? I’m not that into that sky blue stripe but eh. 7/10.

This heart fabric is aggressively fine. I mean Joann has cuter rainbow heart fabric than this, right now, but whatever. I can imagine a nice grandma making her 16 year old lesbian niece christmas PJ pants out of them as a show of support. 5/10

Next up we have-- the obvious. 

Love is love was a perfectly good slogan for people campaigning for gay marriage but it has outlived its usefulness and AGAIN I am not into that light blue in the rainbow,  like commit to the original pink and turquoise colors or just use the actual rainbow. I honestly can’t imagine what you make out of this. 4/10

Its rainbows. They’re fine. This is what that grandma makes into sleep pants for her granddaughter NEXT Christmas. 6/10

Now we have, the obvious, but worse:

I know common wisdom says that Rainbows Are Gay but these rainbows are not gay. This pattern looks like it should be on a rug in a low rent daycare where the bright colors and busy pattern distract from the fact that its been puked on 8 times in the last 6 months. 3/10

This next section is what I like to call: If Rainbows Are Gay, Are Colors Gay?

Yes. Yes they are. I personally don’t like this because I think the colors are muddy but I gotta admit: this is pretty gay. 9/10

My gut reaction is that tie-dye is not gay but upon reflection fake tie dye flannel fabric IS actually probably very gay. Its ugly, but I’m sure there are tick tock teens who would be into it. 7/10

And now we have... but who is this for???

This ALSO looks like it belongs in a daycare, but a much bougie-er one that really leans into neutral colors and wooden toys. 7/10

Points GIVEN because its very inclusive and that’s cool but points deducted because they got the colors of some of the flags wrong. Points further deducted because frankly this is a boring and lazy design. 6/10

I mean, its very cute and I like how inclusive it is but... WHAT IS IT FOR? What are you supposed to make out of this? I could see the print being good in other contexts, on canvas it might make a cute tote? But this is brushed cotton flannel? I... don’t understand. 5/10

OK WHO WANTS THIS? Like... if they had a whole series of pronoun fabrics that would be adorable! My pronouns are they/them or she/her or he/him is totally cute. You could make an adorable “congrats on your transition gift” out of it! This is just... lists of pronouns but with rainbows. 4/10

CONCLUSION!

So ok this is their example of what you could do with this fabric and I think it really hits why I don’t like this collection. Because like. This doesn’t look gay. This looks like it should be hanging in a community center during an anti-bullying week. Like... I cannot imagine a queer person making this and putting it in their home because its just so deeply impersonal. Which really is the heart of the problem.

This collection is *about* the gay community but its not *for* the gay community. Every pattern attempts to encompass the entire community but like, if I’m making a quilt for myself or a friend I want it to be *about* that person.

I mean ok... giant corporation doesn’t get Pride Month, more at 11. I know I know. But like... last year they quietly released two rainbow plaid prints and they were the best rainbow plaid prints I’ve ever seen??? Why not just do it again this year but with more purpose! Release plaids for every flag! Or stripes or... something. Joann is pretty good at prints that come in multiple colorways? I just... generally people don’t want merch with *all* the pride flags they want merch with *their* pride flag. They released 11 pride prints this year? It was so many this post is formatted weirdly because it was over the picture post limit! WHY ARE THEY ALL GARBAGE??? They didn’t even reprint any of last year’s good rainbow plaid!!! That shit sold out in like, a month. I *know* they know it was popular. I deeply suspect if they rereleased it people would snap it up again. I would literally buy at least 10 more yards. But no, we get rainbow elementary school grammar exercises.

[moonlit-melodies]

A Day At The Fair (Original Story)

Written: June 23, 2020 / Posted: December 9, 2020

Warnings: None / Word Count: 2,515 words

Tia hadn’t been to the state fair in years. Not because her parents didn’t let her, but because she just wasn’t interested in going. It’s always seemed too loud, too noisy, too filled with children and germs. But the week before, her friends were begging her to join them for just one day.

Her mom smiled at her as she dropped her off on the side of the road, just outside of the fair. She could see her friends sitting and chatting next to the greenery hanging from the walls of the fair.

“Have fun, Fatia,” her mom said, kissing her forehead before she hopped out of the car. After waving goodbye to her mother, Tia walked over to where her friends sat, talking about their previous DnD campaign. Olivia looked up at her, smiled and waved.

“Tia!”

The others looked up and ran to hug Tia, as if they hadn’t just seen each other at school the day before.

“Do we all have money for tickets?” Valerie, the eldest of the group, asked, standing from where she was sitting. Lydia, Valerie’s nearly identical twin sister, had cash for the both of them. Tia tapped her purse, and Liv nodded.

Tia had first met Lydia and Valerie in fifth grade, when they and a few other kids were part of their school’s first all-girls Robotics team. Two years later, Olivia came to their school. The four of them bonded over their shared love of musicals, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter. Now, they’re a nerdy group of friends who sing Newsies during lunch or recess, and Les Miserables during field trips.

The four of them all walked to the entrance, chattering about their homework assignments and games. They passed through security, Tia opening her purse to the guard anxiously before he waved her past to join her friends.

She grabbed a map from the booth as they walked past, and opened it. She always adored staring at maps, from game treasure maps to museum maps. It seemed that fair maps were no different. She was the one in her household with the best sense of direction. “One of the good things I got from Dad,” she used to say.

“Where do we want to go first?” Tia asked. Lydia peered at the map over her shoulder.

“We should go to the game alley,” Liv suggested.

“We should go to the rides,” Lydia said, much louder, her finger jabbing at a spot on the map. “The Tornado is five tickets per ride, and I have enough for ten tickets for myself.”

They all agreed to ride The Tornado first. Tia led the group through the fair, marching through crowds of children waving balloon swords and college-aged people wielding corn dogs and cotton candy. The smell of fried fair food, combined with the bright colors of food stands and bright lights was almost disorienting, making her feel slightly nauseated.

They each purchased five tickets each from a ticket booth, so that they each had just enough for cookies from Sweet Martha’s Cookie Jar, and headed for The Tornado.

The ride took them soaring through the sky like birds. Tia couldn’t remember the last time she felt so much joy from a fair ride. That morning, she had been running through all of the bad things that could happen at the fair, but she has not yet experienced anything negative here. If anything, she felt like there was nowhere more fun than this place, this ride, with her friends.

After the ride finished, Tia dusted off her skirt and took out the map, still somewhat dizzy from the ride. The four friends decided to walk through the game alley, which was less than a minute away, despite the fact that they knew all of the games were rigged.

“Woah, look at that Enderman doll.” Tia pointed at the game stall that had dozens of Minecraft Endermen hanging from the ceiling. The sign stated that five wins on the game were required for the doll, and Tia frowned. How disappointing. It would take a miracle to win those rigged games. She knew that. Her eyes moved onto the next stall, and her eyes bugged out even wider. “And that stuffed cat!”

Tia hadn’t thought that coming to the fair would renew her love for stuffed animals. When she’d lived at her dad’s house, she’d collected at least two dozen stuffed animals, from hand-sized cats to a head-sized Totoro. After she’d left to live with her mom at age twelve, she’d left almost all of them there, and her collection was reduced to a single stuffed cheetah. Back then, she’d come to terms with the fact that she’d never get to rebuild that collection. But now that she was here, she felt a strong need to hold a stuffed animal.

Valerie giggled at Tia’s oohs and aahs as they passed through the game alley. "You know those things are scams, right?"

"I do know! We talked about them in math class two weeks ago," Tia said, pouting, but she felt just the tiniest bit blushy as Valerie poked at her.

Tia was the youngest--and shortest--of the group, and was considered the baby of the group. In all honesty, she didn't mind being babied. She was usually the one in charge, what with being the captain of the Robotics team, so being babies by her friends gave her a break from being the oldest and in charge.

The group stopped to talk about what they wanted to do with the rest of their time at the fair. They discussed spending some time at the animal farms (Tia insisted on visiting the horses, despite being allergic to them), and later on getting cookies from Sweet Martha’s.

Tia could see a bit farther down the game alley that there was a booth decorated with hundreds of variously-sized stuffed dogs hanging by their tails, far enough that Tia could barely see the balloon dart board. A sign against the wall read in all capital letters, 'POP FIVE BALLOONS TO WIN! ONE WIN FOR A SMALL DOG! THREE FOR A MEDIUM DOG! FIVE FOR A LARGE DOG!' Tia felt as if the sign was yelling at her, taunting her, telling her that she won’t get a dog.

“Look at how  big that dog is,” Tia murmured.

“What if two of us pretended they were dating and tried to trick the employee into giving us one?” Lov said, poking Tia’s shoulder. 

Lydia laughed. “You could try the ‘Oh babe, I don’t have enough to do the game’ thing, and if that doesn’t work, bribe him with this twenty,” Lydia said, taking out a twenty from her wallet.

“We should try,” Liv said. “Even if it doesn’t work. It’d be fun. Who wants to be the girlfriends?” Liv asked. “Not me.”

“I think I can,” Tia suggested nervously, shifting her weight between her feet. “After all, I’m the one who wanted the dog in the first place.”

“Alright, makes sense. Lydia? Valerie? Who’s the other girlfriend?” Liv asked.

“I vote Val,” Lydia said, raising her hand. “She’s the better theater kid, anyway.”

“Why not? You’re a theater kid, too,” Olivia said with a frown.

“Yeah, but I’m tech. Lights and sound and set, not acting.”

“Alright. I could probably play a better lesbian, what with actually being a lesbian,” Valerie said, looping her arm through Tia’s, making her cheeks heat up just a bit.

“So how do we do this?” Tia asked, trying to imagine the scenario. “Do I ask Val to win me a stuffed dog, and then she tells me she doesn't have enough to win me the dog? And then we ask the employee to give us one, and if  needed, we bribe him with the twenty?”

“Exactly.” Valerie said. As she straightened her shirt, she laughed. “We do make a cute couple, though, don’t we?” she asked, looking down at their outfits. Valerie was dressed in dark, torn jeans and a black shirt beneath a red flannel--despite the hot weather--paired with black lace-up boots, while Tia wore a flowy, pastel-pink skirt, a frilly white blouse, and her fluffy hair was held back with a soft pink headband. They looked a bit like every stereotypical goth-girl/soft-pastel-princess instagram or tumblr lesbian couple. You know the ones. One half of the couple looks like they never completely got out of their My Chemical Romance based emo phase, while the other dresses in the colors of cotton candy and looks about as intimidating as a marshmallow. That was Valerie and Tia.

"Alright," Liv said. "We probably shouldn't meet up back here after. We’re too close, and it'll be too suspicious if you go back the way you came."

"Let's meet back at The Tornado, then," Tia suggested. The rest of the group agreed.

“C’mon, honey,” Valerie said, her hand sliding down to clasp Tia’s, taking her by surprise. She usually didn’t mind holding hands with her friends, including Lydia and Liv, but for some reason, this made her feel like butterflies were fluttering around in her stomach.

Valerie led her closer to the booth, and Tia followed behind, recollecting her thoughts. As they neared the stall, Tia grew nervous. She clung to Valerie’s arm tighter, and she didn’t know if it was for the act, or if it was out of fear. Tia was known in the friend group for the worst poker face--which is why she chose to be an IB Visual Arts student instead of an IB Theater student like Lydia and Valerie--but hopefully Valerie, best poker face and theater gay, would make up for everything Tia lacked.

The employee, a thirty-five or forty-five year old man blowing up balloons for the dart board, didn’t look like he would fall for their act. He turned in their direction, and Tia turned to Valerie, putting on her best puppy dog eyes.

“Babe, can you pretty please win me that doggy?” Tia asked, pointing at one of the bigger dogs hanging from the roof of the game stall. She almost laughed at herself, wondering if she was overdoing it. She could see Liv and Lydia snickering out of the corner of her eye, just out of sight from the vendor.

“Sweetness, you know I would, but I suck at these fair games and I only have twenty dollars on me, and we want fair snacks later," Valerie said, squeezing Tia's hand and putting the other on her shoulder, speaking loudly enough for the vendor to hear but not so loud that it was obvious.

"But ba-abe," Tia whined, shaking her head so that her fluffy hair flew up. "It's so cute! Look at his little face. His nose is so cute!" She gestured to the giant stuffed dog again.

Valerie smiled, and Tia could tell she was trying to contain her laughter. What happened to Poker Faced Val? "I'll see what I can do, sweetheart," Val said, and Tia couldn't help but blush. Hopefully that had helped with their performance.

Valerie let go of Tia's hand and stepped closer to the booth. Tia observed, twirling her hips innocently and clutching her purse as Valerie addressed the vendor, who had been watching them fondly.

"Sir, do you suppose I'd be able to have that dog for my girlfriend?" Tia heard Valerie say, and she couldn't help but smile at that last word. The vendor smiled, but shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but you'd have to win this dart game five times," the vendor said. "You could win three times for a medium, and once for a small one."

Valerie sighed, and Tia leaned forward to listen more. "Sir, I don't have enough money or skill to win the dart game five times. I haven't been able to get my girlfriend anything yet at the fair, and I really really want this for her."

Tia tried hard not to laugh. Valerie was doing so very well. She smiled softly to disguise her amusement with adoration for her 'girlfriend' Valerie.

"Tia, baby."

She focused her attention back to the situation. Valerie was beckoning her to come over, and she skipped over quickly. Immediately, she slid her hand into Valerie's, and smiled up innocently at the booth's vendor.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," the vendor said, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Sir," Valerie continued. "I do have twenty dollars on me. I'll buy the dog from you." She took the twenty dollars out of her pocket.

"Please sir?" Tia asked. The vender sighed and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, ladies, but I can't."

"How about for the medium-sized ones, sir?" Tia asked. The vendor shook his head again. "Small ones? Please?" Tia asked, staring into the eyes of one of the smaller dogs' eyes. It could fit in her hand.

"I'm sorry, ladies," he said.

"How much do you make, sir, as a vendor?" Valerie asked politely.

"I make eleven dollars per hour."

"You could have these twenty dollars, twice your hourly pay, in exchange for one tiny dog they won't even notice," Valerie said.

"I'm okay, thank you." His tone of voice had remained the same the whole time since they'd arrived. He was polite and calm, despite Valerie’s pushing.

"Sir, what is your name?" Valerie asked.

"Jared."

"Jared," Valerie said. "I have a proposal. I could give you this twenty dollar bill, and I could put in a good word for you, in exchange for a small dog."

"I can't do that, ladies," Jared the booth vendor said.

Tia sighed. This guy seemed awfully dedicated to his eleven-dollars-per-hour fair job, which was just over two dollars over minimum wage, and there seemed no point in trying more.

Valerie took a deep breath, and it seemed that, unlike Tia, she wasn't ready to give up just yet. "Sir, you, among many others, are underpaid in this capitalistic society." Jared chuckled. "These dogs are worth maybe--"

"Babe!" Tia said, tugging at Valerie's arm. "It's okay, I don't need the doggy." In addition to feeling as though nothing would break him, Tia was worried that maybe Jared had caught on, and she hated confrontation. She turned to the vendor. "Thank you for your time, sir."

She dragged Valerie away, bowing her head to appear sad and clinging onto her arm until they were definitely out of sight. The fake couple met up with Liv and Lydia by The Tornado, and they all started laughing.

"You two were quite a convincing couple," Liv remarked. "Shame he didn't give you a dog, though."

"Yeah. They were cute."

"You don’t have to hold hands anymore," Lydia pointed out.

Tia looked down and quickly removed her hand from Valerie’s. To be honest, she didn't even remember that she was holding her hand. She couldn't help but smile.

"Let's try again next year, yeah?" Valerie suggested, elbowing Tia gently. "Maybe then you'll have a better poker face. And we might be able to be a lot cuter."

“Alright, nerds, let’s go to Sweet Martha’s. I’m really craving some cookies,” Liv said. “Tia, lead the way!”

[star-anise]

why would your social environment affect if you identify as a woman or nb?

I don’t know if you meant it to be, but this is a delightful question. I am going to be a complete nerd for 2k+ words at you.

“Gender” is distinct from “sex” because it’s not a body’s physical characteristics, it’s how society classifies and interprets that body. Sex is “That person has a vagina.” Gender is “This is a blend of society’s expectations about what bodies with vaginas are like, social expectations of how people with vaginas do or might or should act, behave, and feel, the actual lived experiences of people with vaginas, and a twist of lemon for zest.” Concepts of gender and what is “manly” and “womanly” can vary a lot. They’re social values, like “normal” or “legal” or “beautiful”, and they vary all the time. How well you fit your gender role depends a lot on how “gender” is defined.

800 years ago in Europe the general perception was that women were sinful, sensual, lustful people who required frequent sex and liked watching bloodsport. 200 years ago, the British aristocracy thought women were pure, innocent beings of moral purity with no sexual desire who fainted at the sight of blood. These days, we think differently in entirely new directions.

But this gets even more complicated, in part because human experience is really diverse and society’s narratives have to account for that. So 200 years ago, those beliefs about femininity being delicate and dainty and frail only really applied to women with aristocratic lineages, and “the lower classes” of women were believed to be vulgar, coarse, sexual, and earthy, which “explained” why they performed hard physical labor or worked as prostitutes.

Being trans or nonbinary isn’t just or even primarily about what characteristics you want your body to have. It’s about how you want to define yourself and be interpreted and interacted with by other people.

The writer Sylvia Plath lived 1932-1963, and she said:

“Being born a woman is my awful tragedy. From the moment I was conceived I was doomed to sprout breasts and ovaries rather than penis and scrotum; to have my whole circle of action, thought and feeling rigidly circumscribed by my inescapable feminity. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars–to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording–all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery.”

She was from upper-middle-class Massachusetts, the child of a university professor. A lot of those things she was “prohibited” from doing weren’t things each and every woman was prohibited from doing; they were things women of her class weren’t allowed to do. The daughters and sisters and wives of sailors and soldiers, women who worked in hotels and ran rooming houses, barmaids and sex workers, got to anonymously and invisibly observe those men, after all. They just couldn’t do it at the same time they tried to meet the standards educated Bostonians of the 1950s had for nice young women.

Failure to understand how diverse womanhood is has always been one of feminism’s biggest weaknesses. The Second Wave of feminism was started mostly by prosperous university-educated white women, since they were the people with the time and money and resources to write and read books and attend conferences about “women’s issues”. And they assumed that their issues were female issues. That they were the default of femaleness, and could assume every woman had roughly the same experience as them.

So, for example, middle-class white women in post-WWII USA were expected to stay home all the time and look after their children. Feminists concluded that this was isolating and oppressive, and they’d like the freedom to pursue lives, careers, and interests outside of the home. They vigorously pursued the right to be freed from their domestic and maternal duties.

But in their society, these experiences were not generally shared by Black and/or poor women, who, like their mothers, did not have the luxury of spending copious amounts of leisure time with their children; they had to work to earn enough money to survive on, which meant working on farms, in factories, or as cooks, maids, or nannies for rich white women who wanted the freedom to pursue lives outside the home. They tended to feel that they would like to have the option of staying home and playing with their babies all day. 

This is not to say none of the first group enjoyed domestic lives, or that none of the second group wanted non-domestic careers; it’s just that the first group formed the face and the basic assumptions of feminism, and the second group struggled to get a seat at the table.

There’s this phenomenon called “cultural feminism” that’s an attitude that crops up among feminists from time to time (or grows on them, like fungus) that holds that women have a “feminine essence”, a quasi-spiritual “nature” that is deeply distinct from the “masculine essence” of men. This is one of the concepts powering lesbian separatism: the idea that because women are so fundamentally different from men, a society of all women will be fundamentally different in nature from a society that includes men.

But, well, the problem cultural feminism generally has is with how it achieves its definition of “female nature”. The view tends to be that women are kinder, more moral, more collectivist, more community-minded, and less prone to violence. 

And cultural feminists tend to HATE people who believe in the social construction of gender, because we tend to cross our arms and go, “Nah, sis, that’s a frappe of misused statistics and The Angel In the House with some wishful thinking as a garnish. That’s how you feel about what womanhood is. It’s fair enough for you, but you’re trying to apply it to the entire human species. That’s got less intellectual rigor and sociological validity than my morning oatmeal.” Hence the radfem insistence that gender theorists like me SHUT UP and gender quite flatly DOESN’T EXIST. It’s a MADE-UP TERM, and people should STOP TALKING ABOUT IT. (And go back to taking about immutable, naturally-occuring phenomena, one supposes, like the banking system and Western literary canon.)

Because seriously, when you look at real actual women, you will see that some of us can be very selfish, while others are altruistic; some think being a woman means abhorring all violence forever, and others think being a woman means being willing to fight and die to protect the people you love. As groups men and women have different average levels of certain qualities, but it’s not like we don’t share a lot in common. The distribution of “male” and “female” traits doesn’t tend to mean two completely separate sets of characteristics; they tend to be more like two overlapping bell curves.

So, like I said, I grew up largely in rural, working-class Western Canadian society. My relatives tend to be tradesmen like carpenters, welders, or plumbers, or else ranchers and farmers. I was raised by a mother who came of age during the big push for Women’s Lib. So in the culture in which I was raised, it was very normal and in some ways rewarded (though in other ways punished) for women to have short hair, wear flannel and jeans, drive a big truck, play rough contact sports, use power tools, pitch in with farmwork, use guns, and drink beer. “Traditional femininity” was a fascinating foreign culture my grandmother aspired to, and I loved nonsense like polishing the silver (it’s a very satisfying pastime) but that was just another one of my weird hobbies, like sewing fairy clothes out of flower petals and collecting toy horses.

Within the standards of the society I was raised in, I am a decently feminine woman. I’m obviously not a “girly girl”, someone who wears makeup and dresses in ways that privilege beauty over practicality, but I have a long ponytail of hair and when I go to Mark’s Work Wearhouse, I shop in the women’s section. We know what “butch” is and I ain’t it.

But through my friendships and my career, I’ve gotten experiences among cultures you wouldn’t think would be too different–we’re all still white North Americans!–but which felt bizarre and alien, and ate away at the sense of self I’d grown up in. In the USA’s northeast, the people I met had the kind of access to communities with social clout, intellectual resources, and political power I hadn’t quite believed existed before I saw them. There really were people who knew politicians and potential employers socially before they ever had to apply to a job or ask for political assistance; there were people who really did propose projects to influential businessmen or academics at cocktail parties; they really did things like fundraise tens of thousands of dollars for a charity by asking fifty of their friends to donate, or start a business with a $2mil personal loan from a relative.

And in those societies, femininity was so different and so foreign. I’d grown up seeing femininity as a way of assigning tasks to get the work done; in these new circles, it was performative in a way that was entirely unique and astounding to me. A boss really would offer you a starting salary $10k higher than they might have if you wore high heels instead of flats. You really would be more likely to get a job if you wore makeup. And your ability to curate social connections in the halls of power really was influenced by how nice of a Christmas party you could throw. These women I met were being held, daily, to a standard of femininity higher than that performed by anyone in my 100 most immediate relatives.

So when girls from Seven Sisters schools talked about how for them, dressing how I dressed every day (jeans, boots, tee, button-up shirt, no makeup, no hair product) was “bucking gendered expectations” and “being unfeminine”, I began to feel totally unmoored. When I realized that I, who absolutely know only 5% as much about power tools and construction as my relatives in the trades, was more suited to take a hammer and wade in there than not just the “empowered” women but the self-professed “handy” men there, I didn’t know how to understand it. I felt like I was… a woman who knew how to do carpentry projects, not “totally butch” the way some people (approvingly) called me.

And, well, at home in Alberta I was generally seen as a sweet and gentle girl with an occasional stubborn streak or precocious moment, but apparently by the standards of Southern states like Georgia and Alabama I am like, 100x more blunt, assertive, and inconsiderate of men’s feelings than women typically feel they have to be.

And this is still all just US/Canadian white women.

And like I said, after years of this, I came home (from BC, where I encountered MORE OTHER weird and alien social constructs, though generally more around class and politics than gender) to Alberta, and I went to what is, for Alberta, a super hippy liberal church, and I helped prepare the after-service tea among women with unstyled hair and no makeup  who wore jeans and sensible shoes, and listened to them talk about their work in municipal water management and ICU nursing, and it felt like something inside my chest slid back into place, because I understood myself as a woman again, and not some alien thing floating outside the expectations of the society I was in with a chestful of opinions no one around me would understand, suddenly all made sense again.

I mean, that’s by no means an endorsement for aspirational middle class rural Alberta as the ideal gender utopia. (Alberta is the Texas of Canada.) I just felt comfortable inside because it’s the culture where I found a definition of myself and my gender I could live with, because its boundaries of what’s considered “female” were broad enough to hold all the parts of me I felt like I needed to express. I have a lot of friends who grew up here, or in families like mine, and don’t feel at all happy with its gender boundaries. And even as I’m comfortable being a woman here, I still want to push and transform it, to make it even more feminist and politically left and decolonized.

TERFs try to claim that trans and nonbinary people reinforce the gender identity, but in my experience, it’s feminists who claim male and female are immutable and incompatible do that. It’s trans, nonbinary, and genderqueer people who, simply by performing their genders in public, make people realize just how bullshit innate theories of gender are.. Society is going to want to gender them in certain ways and involve them in certain dynamics (”Hey ladies, those fellas, amirite?”) and they’re going, “Nope. Not me. Cut it out.” I’ve seen a lot of cis people who will quietly admit they do think men and women are different because that’s just reality, watch someone they know transition, and suddenly go, “Oh my god, I get it now.”

Like yes, this is me being coldly political and thinking about people as examples to make a political point. Everyone’s valid and can do what they want, but some things are just easier for potential converts to wrap their minds around.. “I’m sorting through toys to give to Shelly’s baby. He probably won’t want a princess crown, huh?” “I actually know several people who were considered boys when they were babies and never got one, and are making up for all their lost princess crown time now as adults. You never know what he’ll be into when he grows up.” “…Okay, point. I’ll throw it in there.” Trans and enby people disrupt gender in a really powerful back-of-the-brain way where people suddenly see how much leeway there is between gender and sex.

I honestly believe supporting trans and enby people and queering gender until it’s a macrame project instead of a spectrum are how we’ll get to a gender-free utopia. I think cultural feminism is just the same old shit, inverted. (Confession: in my head, I pronounce “cultural” with emphasis on the “cult” part.) 

I think feminism is like a lot of emergency response groups: Our job is to put ourselves out of a job. It’s not a good thing if gender discrimination is still prevalent and harmful 200 years from now! Obviously we’re not there yet and calls to pack it in and go home are overrated, but as the problem disappears into its solution, we have to accept that our old ways of looking at the world have to shift.

[venomdoves]

Ok Real Post™️ coming up so feel free to skip

I am young. I struggle with my relationship to traditional femininity. My first move is a strong rejection of anything feminine, including anything pink or sparkly, just because I am not interested. Why should I be? Then my sister comes along, and she is the epitome of “girly girl.” And I do a complete 180, just because my sister loves pink and has long hair and bows and sparkles and I think that I should like that too.

Fast forward to middle school. I don’t do much with girls, mostly because I am afraid of them - closeted lesbian, anyone? - so I spend all my time with a red-headed boy named Will who is about two years older than me. He likes Harry Potter as much as I do and has clean fingernails and I figure I’ll probably marry him someday, since I like him well enough. Then we both move (Air Force kid here) and I never see him again.

But I spend middle school in “boy’s clothes” and blue and no glitter, talking about Harry Potter and dinosaurs and Star Wars. I play with tanks and army soldiers and action figures of dragons and knights and I read only books for boys. Being like a boy is cool. I want to be a boy, just because I act like them, and acting like them feels wrong in an exciting kind of way.

Then I go to high school, and a pretty Scottish girl with pale blue eyes like the crashing ocean pushes me up against the wall in a horse stable and kisses me in the hay as the horses we’d just returned nicker quietly in their stalls, and I love being a girl. I love this strange new way of existing, of the quiet rebellion in every moment, in the little rush every time someone asks about my “best friend.” And I don’t want to be a boy anymore. I want to be something else entirely, and I cut off my hair and buy all black clothes and spend my time scribbling every thought and feeling and idea down into notebooks, and I feel like nothing and no one other than myself - or who I think I am.

Junior year. The Scottish girl is long gone now, although I still think about her in the quiet darkness. The hair is growing back. I wear Hot Topic t-shirts and bootcut jeans and black Converse high-tops and too much black eyeshadow and I am plain and quiet and older and wiser as I write. I don’t write so much about me now; I write about who I could be. I write stories of women overcoming their struggles, of women becoming who they were always meant to be. It’s the first year men I don’t know look after me with lust in the streets, and I write about that too. I write about feeling trapped in expectations, and I spend each day looking for myself, because now I am a girl, but I do not perform it well. Each day is a pointed rebellion against femininity now, and I am so, so tired.

Senior year. My hair reaches my shoulders. I wear a T-shirt with something I like on it and dark jeans that flatter the long legs I’ve finally grown into and a flannel every day. I own many flannels. I like them. I thrift them and collect them and wear them every day. I do well in school. I wear makeup, but only to the theatre. And the reason I don’t wear makeup is because it is too much work in the morning, not a rebellion anymore. I sleep in too late and shove a toaster waffle in my mouth as I zip up the combat boots I wear every day. I go to my writing class and I write what I’m told to, only never in the way that I should. Some of my writing is due to be published in a literary magazine, and I beam with pride as I send in my headshot. I turn in my first comedy sketch to my class and blush bright red as they laugh and laugh the way I always dreamed they would. I discover a passion for baking and making candy, and I ask my grandmother for her recipes when we come to visit. I make peanut butter fudge under her guidance and the warm fudge tastes like peace. I ride horses still, too, ride every chance I get. And I write. Oh, how I write. I write at least a thousand words a day, often more. I write stories about other stories and stories that come from my head and stories that aren’t stories at all, but thoughts and reflections and essays.

I am a rider and a writer and a baker and a comedian and a lesbian and a cashier. I am in love with a girl who doesn’t love me back and I am dreaming of a future as a famous actress and sketch writer and comedian and I am dreaming of a future where all I do is bake and hold dogs. I am filled with ideas of a house of my own and a wife and a home full of animals and the scent of my fresh warm fudge filling the kitchen. I am a woman, and everything I am is part of that. Because I exist for me, and only for me, and I am happy with myself, and I’m not tired anymore.

Finished 10:13 p.m., 11/30/19.

[whats-the-story-tc]

17th of December, 2019

"The One with the Last English of the Year"

-------------------------------------------------------

Before I begin this post, I'd like to clarify a couple things.

1, My native tongue isn't English, neither am I, nor anyone mentioned in these posts, from an English-speaking country, unless specifically stated. Things I quote might get a bit lost in translation, or not mean the same thing as in English, so if something isn't quite clear, feel free to drop a message my way.

2, I learn the actual English language as a separate subject 5 lessons a week. We have them (and German) joint with the other class in our year, in mixed groups according to skill. Those are not what the posts are about.

3, I call V an English teacher, and her subject English so you understand me better. In reality, she doesn't teach this one subject to my class, but two. There's Literature, which Monday and Tuesday posts are about, and then there's Grammar separately, mentioned in Friday posts. These two are the same category, but separate subjects.

+1, Class system over here is way different from that of the US. Here, you get put in a class with random idiots when you're a freshman, and you see these very same idiots in every single class for the rest of high school. That's why I keep mentioning the same people. Every class has a designated homeroom teacher, who is responsible for that class. Ours is a bit of a messy person and not always here. V helps her (and us) out quite often, which is something she chose to do herself sometime around the end of last year.

And now that we're all settled, let's get down to business.

-------------------------------------------------------

Another day, another flannel. I've been waiting to say this a while.

The folks from the other class mentioned in the morning that V wasn't in today, which someone defended with "she wasn't here yesterday either", and I think my heart sunk into my stomach. The feeling scared me. It's only been a few days. Why do I already miss her so much? That can't be right. Yet as soon as I got out of my first class, I scanned the corridors with my eyes every half a minute to find her. And I did, a bit after the bell rang. If my heart could sigh, it would've.

After the second lesson was over, me and a friend of mine met V on the stairs as I was explaining the friend something. When we greeted her, she looked at us with this really gentle and peaceful little smile, like she actually liked seeing us around. That one look killed my weekend doubts of "Do I really want to do this? Shouldn't I just give up?" and I was sure yet again that even if I wanted to, I couldn't let her go just yet. As we reached our other friends, I hid my face away into my scarf. I wanted to keep that happiness for myself. Even in Physics, during Cynical Twat's presentation on something I didn't even understand, I kept thinking of that one smile. I don't understand how I write A-s from Physics most of the time, as I either fall asleep (the teacher's voice is very soft) or I daydream about V as the lab is next door to the teachers' lounge, and I usually see her before class.

When V swung into class the next period, I could already see that she was doing much better. She came in smiling, even though she had to start the lesson off with refuting some rumours circling around about her recent mood, that got back to her. She assured us, that no, she wouldn't be handing the class over to someone else, no, she wasn't quitting or leaving, no, she wasn't fatally sick and no, we wouldn't be free from her that easily. She also added that her moodiness and the crying before class (see: 6th December) doesn't have to do with us, "it just that when thing aren't on you, and the stakes are high, and there's a lot of money in question, it can get really frustrating." So those were frustration tears. I knew they were. I wish I didn't know the feeling so well. But I'm really proud of her for speaking out about this and addressing everything with her head raised high.

Although the friend from earlier (who I'll name Flower Friend) tried to convince her to talk about William Blake's "The Tyger", also included in our textbook, as she found it interesting, V quickly refused. "Not because I'm too stupid for it", she said, but explained that the poem contains a lot of period-specific symbolism which would be quite hard to understand, plus we've already passed the "abroad" part of the Age of Enlightenment's literature, so we went on with our curriculum.

During the lesson, V was all smiles and laughs, which inspired all of us to speak more, and sat in the strangest positions on top of her desk while speaking. I could barely contain my laughter when she spent a good couple minutes talking with her knee pulled up to her chest. This woman...

Towards the end of the lesson, she asked if anyone wanted to share the short essays we wrote yesterday. As time was running out, I was trying to explain mine quickly, but as I'm nearly not as eloquent in speech, and my approach was heavily psychological (and involved a bit of acting, which earned a few laughs from the class), I got a bit awkward. I'm proud I could hold eye contact with her pretty well for most of it, and only looked away at the acted out bits, but I'm not surprised that when I looked back, she was grinning, and told me "I got a bit lost by the end of it."

I finally managed to recite the poem I told you about (the love confession one) after class, and it went pretty well. I wasn't so nervous that I couldn't look at her, so... I guess I'm getting a bit more comfortable with her attention on me. Afterwards, I went up to Lesbian Friend and her (bi) friend, and she told me "That woman (V) will be the death of me.", to which I said "That makes the two of us. Or three?" I glanced at the other girl. She nodded sheepishly. Officially confirmed: V is irresistible. And at the end of that break, as I stood by the doorway talking to someone and looked outside, V was passing by at the very same time and looked at me. What's with all the looking today?

The last time I saw her, as she was leaving the other class after her lesson with them, she said goodbye with "Send my love to everyone." She's done an awful lot of quiet slipping-outside lately, so it felt pretty good to see her fully "back".

Today's what we call the "Christmas concert", and all faculty are expected to attend. If I didn't fuck up my throat last year, which I'm still trying to fix, I'd be singing in the choir with Debate Friend and Flower Friend now. Hope they have fun. I remember V attending last year and watching us sing. I think she was smiling. I hope she has fun, too.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[firstginger]

🚫, 💋, 🙈, ❓

🚫 - an awful comphet moment/how did you get over your comphet/have you ever experienced comphet?HHH MY ENTIRE FIRST BOYFRIEND EXPERIENCE it was just awful... so like all during middle/high school my self-esteem was really wrapped around the idea of getting a boyfriend and then that would magically make me worthy and attractive lol. I knew this guy liked me and I flirted with him and at the time I assumed that’s what crushes were?? Like deciding to just... talk to someone and lead them on, I never understood the whole “getting butterflies” saying. SO he asked me out and I was super excited and we were bf/gf! But then after that rush and we started dating I was anxious ALL the time, I would find excuses to not hang out with him, I didn’t want him to touch me, during dates I would be mentally calculating how much longer it would last... I actually posted on Yahoo Answers that my boyfriend wanted to hang out with me before school started and I was having a panic attack over it and the responses were mostly just “??? relax??”. But uh yeah wow after that it was a lot of like “I’m sure I could like SOME guy” before realizing that I pretty much just got crushes on girls and never felt strongly about men and started IDing as a lesbian!! ❤️

💋 - do you have a type of girl you like?STOPPP.... already answered and I was true to myself...... In general tho I always get heart eyes when I see butches like!! They’re so handsome!! They make me feel so safe and happy to be a lesbian!! God just seeing butches makes my entire day I want every single butch to feel happy and loved

🙈 - most embarrassing thing you’ve done in front of a girlHo boy I was Real embarrassing in front of my high school crush because I had no idea I had a crush on her, I wasn’t used to just being sucker punched by romantic feelings and it didn’t even register. Honestly being a tongue-tied sweaty weirdo was probably the peak embarrassing experience but I don’t have any specific examples... I’m also sure I did a million embarrassing things in front of Gwen that I blocked from my memory.... I fell once while wearing high heels in the grass in front of her and she laughed at me LMAO also before we dated I called her beautiful and thought I weirded her out and spent the rest of the day contemplating leaving civilization and never looking back

❓- flannel, denim or leather lesbian?I have flannel, denim, AND leather jackets... I think flannel? I love flannel and I feel the most comfy in it, reminds me of Oregon too!! I have a flannel poncho I LOVE to wear it’s literally my favorite thing to toss on over a shirt.

[theythemsam]

spn 8x01, liveblog, collected posts (all 23 of them) or as i like to call it: the trauma boys are back, Dean lashes out because of course he does, Sam has Big Dyke Energy, a woman dies for Kevin-pain, Amelia is a hallucination and Dean and Benny have a sad break up 

Dean coming back from Purgatory is a really nice scene and I like it a lot

#like its filmed so well and the music is also nice

HELLO BENNY!!!

#i love my vampire boy!!! #hes a cute cuddly bear #with very, very scary fangs

Like the reveal that Dean resurrected a vampire and trusts him enough to let him get away after he killed Amy is such a big plot twist and its so interesting

#and then he calls him brother #like if I would put more than two brain cells into this show id be min blown #unfortunately I only care about Sam Winchester so this only matters to me tangentially

A yes, another great lesbian hair!sam season!!!

#its always big sexy #like season 1 sam has it and this season sam also has it

The hug is so cute

Sam very clearly believed Dean to be dead and he gave up and this is immediately juxtaposed with Dean believing Cas to be dead and giving up on him and yet SOMEHOW, only one of those is treated as a crime in this show

#thinking face emoji #the double standard is gonna kill me yall!!!

UGH, I fucking hate Dean!!!

#time to polish my “Fuck You Dean Im Coming For Your Kneecaps” baseball bat cause im gonna need it this season

Dean already starts with the passive aggressive bullshit immediately and I hate it so much!

God, Sam in the brown tan jacket and the flannel is such a lesbian outfit asdfghk

#big dyke energy!!!

Also the scene where he brushes his hair out of his face is so model TM

#best hair season!!!

I mean I kinda like how they portray PTSD and flashbacks and how tiny innocuous seeming things can trigger it

The fake out of Benny’s hit is so good!

#i love one vampirate

GOD, fucking every scene that Sam is in, my brain just goes: LESBIAN! Bc seriously that outfit he’s wearing, is a lesbian mood

#on the lesbian evenings in the gugg theres a lesbian that wears exactly this outfit pretty often when im there and has a similar haircut asdfghj its amazing

Sam had a complete mental break down and the show seriously just treats it as “Sam fell in love and stopped because hes a stupid, stupid lazy bitch” instead of “Sam ran himself ragged trying to find a way to save his brother, had no support system, and finally instead of letting himself drown or be roped into making another disastrous mistake like he did when he last tried to save Dean (which is start the apocalypse… something Dean still blames him for even though its not solely his fault) he decided to go a more healthy road”

Like I also get that this feels bad for Dean. Dean has been fighting for a year non-stop. Dean is also in a really bad head space. But I wish the show would give Sam the same opportunity to see how fucked up he was as they do with Dean

Like the way Sam completely freaks out on the nurse should clue people in to his mental state. He’s completely messed up. He couldn’t save anybody, doesn’t know where his brother is, has no hunters he can turn to, Cas is gone, Meg is captured, Kevin is captured and I betcha Crowley has them well hidden and then he hits this dog. And he sees one life he can save, only small way in which he can atone (because aren’t the leviathans kinda his fault? If he hadn’t died causing Dean to sell his soul, if he hadn’t drunken demon blood and started the apocalypse, if he had never let Lucifer free, if he hadn’t messed up heaven, if that hadn’t forced Cas to take in the souls from purgatory, then the Leviathans would have never been here. And Dean wouldn’t be gone. It’s his fault.) He hit this dog, nearly killed it and he blames himself. And all he can do is hope that the dog will be okay.

The “I did this” is so heartbreaking.

#listen I am absolutely interpreting here and I know this is going into fanfic territory but… #theres more than the dog #the I did this speaks so much of sams mental state #hes definitely not just talking about the dog here #god I wish they made this kind of shit more obvious to the casual watcher!

Why are the portraying Dean as such an idiot? He would understand that Sam did some tracking thing and probably found Kevin instead of… “Can I get this in English? This computer nerd speech, I do not speak your language?!”

#Dean… the dude who learned real quick to hack into live feeds of cameras from Frank #and that dean isn’t supposed to understand it? #when my “I know just enough HTML to like slap my tumblr until it looks pretty” ass understands it? #yiketh #i hate it when they dumb down dean to have a funny one liner #he deserves better #its time for my rare dean defending moments

Kevin!!!

Kevin in the pink shirt with the pink stained glass window in the background PLUS the intercuts with the Kevin in the blue shirt with the blue lighting is So Big Sexy

#im love colors!!!

Sam calling out Dean for his hypocrisy when it comes to free will asdfh

#fuck him up my boy! #and dean just did the old dad gasp “I cant believe what im hearing. YOUNG MAN WATCH YOUR TONE AROUND ME” asfghkl

The fucking it gets better slogan

#my dudes when I watched this first at 14 I didn’t get it #now I do #asdfgj

Like!!! Fuck me yall, but at least to me it is So Incredibly Clear that Amelia isn’t real. Like the way she talks isn’t how most normal people would talk to a dude they just met. It is however (as shown in many, many of Sam’s hallucinations) the way SAM thinks about himself. The immediate blame at Sam for not wanting to take the dog (seriously, any normal vet would be like: ok, thanks for bringing that dog in, we’ll make sure he gets to an adoption center), the mocking him about being a hero/failing at it (something all other of Sam’s hallucinations did (young!sam, hallucifer, the barmaid!) and then obviously the weird colors in the flashbacks. It’s oversaturated, like Bobby’s dream house in the dreamroot episode. They aren’t at all what the world looks like, not in supernatural.

Like this is intentional! Amelia is coded so hard as not real! She was a hallucination that Sam’s messed up brain came up with to cope. Bite me, that’s canon.

Ugh, another woman killed for man pain, fuck you supernatural!

The Dean-Benny “maybe we shouldn’t see each other for a while” scene is so much coded like a breakup.

#they fucked!

[haughtbreaker]

Special thanks to @jaybear1701​ who messaged me early this morning basically asking me what the hell I was doing with commas. Thanks to everyone who keeps reading.

** Companion song for this chapter is Lay Me Down - Sam Smith ... cause yeah I'm basic like that. I actually do have an in-progress Spotify playlist that I've been adding songs to as I post chapters**

Nicole looked around the party, feeling her body already moving slightly to the music that boomed from the speakers. She was exhausted from her shift at the shop but she was happy to be around friends.

"Nicky!"

Nicole smirked as she found Shae leaning against the couch, drink already in hand. She was waving her free hand to get Nicole's attention, even as their friend continued to talk to her. She detoured for a red cup from the keg station before moving to her girlfriend, capturing a hello kiss. "Hey." She turned to her friend. "Rosita, you're looking extra thirsty today."

"Fuck off, Red." Rosita gave her a rough shove. "You're late, as always."

"Some of us have jobs." Nicole took a long sip of the god awful beer before coughing. "Jesus, they could have at least sprung for the mediocre shit."

Rosita pulled a flask from her back pocket, waving it in front of Nicole. "It's a good thing vodka makes everything tolerable… if only I had a friend to share it with."

Nicole smirked, holding her cup out.

Holding out for just a few seconds, Rosita unscrewed the cap and poured a good helping into Nicole's cup. "You're lucky you're cute."

Shae laughed, reaching up to brush the back of her knuckles against Nicole's cheek. "She's okay." She tangled her fingers in auburn hair before pulling her forward for a kiss. It was needy and possessive, as if she had something to prove in front of even their friend. Nicole just went with it until Shae pulled away. She was used to her girlfriend's drunken shenanigans.

Some people might have been put off by it, frustrated by what seemed like a lack of trust Nicole just didn't care. She was used to it.

"I'm gonna get something else to drink." Shae commented before stepping away.

Don't let her go.

Nicole blinked against the sudden urge, reaching out, her hand closing around Shae's wrist. She felt like she was fighting against something… against instinct and fate.

Shae turned to look at her, confused.

"Here, take mine. I'm not enjoying it anyway." Nicole pulled Shae back to her. "Just… don't leave me."

Shae smiled. "Why would I ever do that?"

Nicole looked up as Rosita grabbed her arm.

"Let her go, Nicole." Her voice was stern, her grip firm.

"What the hell, Rosie, let go."

"Nicole!"

Nicole jolted up in surprise, her eyes bleary as she took in the still unfamiliar surroundings.

"Girl, you are one deep sleeper." Gus huffed as she picked up the extra blanket Nicole must have kicked off. "Isn't this Waverly's?"

Rubbing at her eyes, Nicole nodded, still slightly dazed. "She let me borrow it for now."

"Well, you best get a move on. Waverly won't tolerate being late. She cannot risk her perfect attendance." Gus's voice was thick with mockery, as if she'd heard it a million times which, having met Waverly, Nicole had no doubt about.

"I'm up." Nicole reached for her backpack, digging out her pills. Looking at the photo sitting on the nightstand, she sighed softly. "I'm up."

Nicole adjusted the bag on her back before taking a deep breath, looking down the hallway of the school. It was one building, much smaller than her old school. She looked over the schedule in her hand and the map in the other, trying to make sense of it.

The weekend had been… strange didn't seem like an adequate enough word. She'd stuck to what was now her room mostly, unpacking, avoiding the others. Wynonna had disappeared through most of the day hours, being dropped off by a red land-yacht of a car as the sun was disappearing below the horizon. Waverly stayed home most of the weekend but she had a friend stop by, a strange nerdy kid that looked like he'd been picked on most of his life. He'd stared at her with big, bright eyes the first time they met.

Jeremy.

Nicole blew out a large breath of air before returning her attention to the schedule. She had to somehow find her English class that looked like it would be her homeroom on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Canadian Geography would be Tuesdays and Thursdays.

"What's the damage?"

Nicole looked up to see Waverly standing in front of her, a big grin on her face. "Just your standard new kid in her senior year sort of damage." She'd thought, when Waverly disappeared after dropping her off at the front office, that she was going to fend for herself.

"Sounds like fun. Let me see." Waverly held her hand out, raising her eyebrows when Nicole hesitated.

With a soft sigh, Nicole handed the schedule over. If anything, at least Waverly would be able to point her to her first period.

"Oooo, we have first period together, Calculus, and Physics…" The smile turned into a disgruntled look. "And gym."

Nicole raised an eyebrow at that. "Not a fan of gym?" She wasn't a fan herself. It was usually just a place for stronger kids to pick on the weaker ones.

"I'm fine with gym, I just think it's a waste of time. I mean, I think if you're actually on a team sport, you should get credit for it." Waverly wrinkled her nose. "I'm significantly more active during cheer practice than I ever have been tossing balls back and forth in gym."

Nicole nodded. "Completely understandable." She watched as Waverly's eyes darted over the schedule. "So… we're in a lot of the same classes?"

Waverly nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah. And Jeremy too, but he has clearance from gym so not that." With a shrug, she handed the schedule back over. "It's Purgatory. Pretty much everyone in the same grade are in the same classes… with exception of math and science. We just lucked out, I guess." She smiled brightly.

Luck. Nicole wasn't sure of that yet. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she wouldn't have much of a break from the youngest Earp, but she would probably find out.

"Come on." Waverly nodded down the hall. "It's not that far down the hall."

"So… where's this American?"

Waverly rolled her eyes as she sat down between her friends Stephanie and Chrissy. Jeremy sat across from Chrissy who he considered safer. "Calm down, Stephanie. I'm sure she'll be here soon." She peeled the top off her salad and shook the small container of dressing.

"Is it true?" Stephanie asked with a smirk. "That she's a lesbian?"

"Gotta love living in a small town," Waverly commented as she tossed her salad with the small bit of vinaigrette. She'd been friends with the two girls since they were toddlers and Stephanie could be a bit much sometimes.

"Holy shit." Stephanie uttered, her eyes on the doors of the dining hall.

Waverly looked up to see Nicole entering, her auburn waves covered by a red and black toque that matched her flannel shirt, her hands tucked into her jeans pockets.

"Yeah, she just radiates gay."

"I'm pretty sure that's not very PC, Steph," Chrissy spoke up.

Waverly's brows furrowed and she stabbed at her salad as she watched Nicole follow the crowd, getting in line to collect her lunch. "She's actually really nice when you talk to her."

"Sure, in the stoic and solitary kind of way," Jeremy remarked, peeling his orange. "But I guess when you're tall and gorgeous, you can get away with it."

Waverly rolled her eyes. She didn't think Nicole was all that bad. Or maybe it was because she knew the reason behind the withdrawn temperament. She hadn't told Jeremy. She'd learned her lesson that first night and didn't intend on spilling those particular beans. When Nicole looked her way, Waverly waved her over with a smile. It looked like Nicole was going to refuse for a moment before she started heading that way.

"Hey." Nicole smiled in an obligatory way as she sat down in the empty space across from Waverly.

"Nicole, you know Jeremy but this is Stephanie and Chrissy," Waverly pointed her friends out.

Chrissy smiled and waved. "Hi, hi. Wish we could chat, but I have a yearbook meeting."

"Nice meeting you," Nicole commented as she began to pick through the hamburger and fries she'd picked up.

"Nicole, huh?" Stephanie smiled a smile that could best be described as nefarious. "The American lesbian the school is all abuzz about."

Nicole froze, looking from Stephanie to Waverly and back to Stephanie again.

"God, Steph, can you not be an asshole today?" Waverly huffed. "Sorry, Nicole. It's kind of a small town and Steph has a weird habit of perpetuating every bit of garbage she picks up."

"Rude much?" Stephanie snorted.

Nicole returned her attention to her meal, tearing open one of the small packets of ketchup. "That's me. Technically I'm only half American but I'm all gay," she responded with half a smile. Picking up one of the ketchup covered fries, she popped it in her mouth before freezing, her face twisted in disgust. "What the hell is wrong with this ketchup?"

Waverly tilted her head in question.

"It's way too sweet." Nicole wrinkled her nose, offering the small boat of fries to Waverly.

With a shrug, Waverly picked one up and tasted it. It tasted like it always did. "It's fine."

"Yeah something's not right with it." Nicole sighed softly before pulling the soggy leaf of lettuce out of the hamburger, applying a very small bit of ketchup to the bun. "Maybe it's just a Canada thing." She gave Waverly a look with just the corner of her lip curling up. "Probably all the maple syrup."

"Wow, way to perpetuate stereotypes," Waverly commented with a chuckle before jumping as a hand landed on her shoulder.

"Who's the new girl?"A boy plopped down onto the seat beside Waverly that had been emptied by Chrissy, his arm slinging over her neck.

"Ugh, get off me." Waverly shrugged his arm off, pushing away from him slightly. "This is Nicole. Nicole, this is my ex Hardy."

Nicole rose an eyebrow as she ate one of the fries. "Charmed." Her voice was flat and unimpressed, bringing a slight smile to Waverly's lips.

"Sup! Everybody calls me Champ." He nodded his head at her. "Number one steer roper in the town."

"Nicole is from California, Champ. Not a lot of rodeo," Waverly commented, trying not to push him off the bench. She wasn't sure why he was there except to bother the shit out of her.

"Cali huh? You surf, dude?" He used a horrible accent you only saw in ridiculous beach movies.

Nicole gave him a tight smile. "Yes actually, but not many waves around here." She looked at Waverly and her smile softened. "Except the Earp variety, that is."

Waverly felt her cheeks growing hot and cleared her throat. "Ha ha." She looked at her ex who was looking at Nicole suspiciously. "Champ, what the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"I just wanted to see you." He leaned closer to Waverly, his attention on her now. "I was just wondering if you wanted to come over after practice…"

Waverly grimaced. "I'm sorry, did you forget that I broke up with you?"

He gave her a confused look. "Wait… You were serious? I thought it was like, that time of the month…"

"Yeah, no. Get the hell out of here." Waverly shook her head.

"What?" Champ blinked in disbelief. "But I thought we could get back to normal.. It's Monday and you know we would always…"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Waverly cut him off. She couldn't believe him. She needed him to just leave before he embarrassed her further. "Just get the hell out of here."

"God, you don't have to be such a bitch about it." Champ growled as he stood up.

It took everything in Waverly not to just punch him in the nuts as he moved away. She felt the sting of embarrassment in her cheeks as she let her eyes drift over to Nicole who was watching Champ leave with a look that was pure poison.

"I don't know why you dumped him, Waves." Stephanie shook her head. "He's so hot."

Waverly cringed. "I just… outgrew him I guess." Scrunching her nose, she looked up to find Nicole watching her. "I guess he's just not my type anymore."

Nicole tilted her head to the side before dropping her gaze back to her lunch.

"Oh Honey… he's everybody's type." Stephanie commented in disbelief.

Nicole sighed as she sat on the bleachers, watching as Waverly and the other cheerleaders practiced on the other side of the gym. There was a time she would have enjoyed the sight, cheerleaders moving to music, flipping through the air… but instead she sighed softly, taking out her cell phone.

I dreamt of you last night. She sent the text off with a smile. Being in a new school really made her miss her friends back home. As if on queue, her phone began to vibrate with a call. She quickly hit the talk button. "That was super creepy."

"Says the person texting me saying they were dreaming about me." There was a soft laugh before she turned serious. "Was it the same dream?"

Nicole took a shuddered breath. "Yeah." She didn't need to say anything else. That was something she missed about being home. She didn't have to answer questions. No one stepped on eggshells around her because they knew where not to step. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I fucking miss your dumb face, Rosie."

There was a soft sigh that came over the phone. "That's pretty gay, Red." There was a brief pause and what sounded like a sniffle. "But… I miss you too. It's so quiet around here and I keep bringing too much booze to parties."

Nicole snorted. "No such thing."

"Yeah for alcoholics." There was another brief pause before Rosita cleared her throat. "So, you gonna tell me about your new roomies."

"Well," Nicole watched as Waverly was tossed into the air easily. "Right now I'm watching one at cheerleading practice."

"Ooo. A cheerleader? I love cheerleaders. Is she hot? Can you describe the uniform to me? Well fuck actually send me a picture."

"You're a fucking pervert." Nicole could feel the day's worth of stress beginning to bleed away. "I mean… I guess she's cute, in the way too chipper kind of way." She shrugged as if Rosita could see her. "Maybe more your type - cute, straight, and ready to break your heart. " She didn't want to go into her own type really, because that meant thinking about Shae, and thinking about how right now they'd probably be hanging out in her room back home.

"Well then definitely send me a pic later. What about the other one?"

Nicole chuckled. "Wynonna? Definitely rough around the edges. Maybe a complete opposite of Waverly. Definitely some damage there." Blowing out a long breath, Nicole stretched her back a little. "It's so fucking cold here."

Now Rosita laughed. "It's a nice 87 degrees here. A nice swell came in Sunday morning."

"Fuck off." Nicole laughed.

"I think I might have gotten a sunburn," Rosita continued.

"You don't fucking burn," Nicole snorted.

"Whoa… language Haught."

Nicole jumped as Wynonna plopped down beside her. "God Dammit, Wynonna!"

"Oooh is that her. She sounds hot. Let me talk to her. "

"Shut up, Rosie," Nicole huffed. "I'll talk to you later." She didn't wait for a response, just hung up. She knew Rosita wouldn't mind. She was the closest thing to a sister Nicole had.

"You don't have to hang up for me,." Wynonna commented as she leaned back on the bleacher behind them, her eyes on the cheerleaders. "You spying on my sister?"

Nicole rolled her eyes. "She's the one driving us home," she answered matter-of-factly.

"And how was your first day of school?"

Nicole snorted. "New place, same shit." She toyed with the edge of her phone before slipping it into her pocket. "What are you doing here, anyway? You don't even go here anymore."

"Maybe I just came to watch my baby sister?" Wynonna's gaze wasn't on Waverly tho. Instead she was eyeing up the girl that looked like she was consulting with the cheerleading coach.

Nicole had watched the older girl as she began to help with the choreography. "Who's the girl?"

"What girl?" Wynonna pulled a flask out of her pocket and took a quick pull from it, not even caring that they were in a school gym.

"Tall, dark, and smokin'...if you're into the goth scene of course." Nicole leaned back against the bleacher as well. She was glad for the interruption and distraction. As much as she loved hearing from and talking to her best friend, it was the bridge that took her back to Shae and to the place she was before. "Ex girlfriend?"

"What?" Wynonna scoffed. "God no. Her and her perfect skin and amazing dancing skills…" She cleared her throat. "She's the ex of someone I…" She waggered her hand in the air, "am friends with?"

"Friends?" Nicole gave her a wry look.

"Look… some friends you go shoplifting with, and some friends you…," she took another sip from her flask, "get naked and bump pelvises with."

Nicole cringed. "Ew. Straight people," she said under her breath as she shook her head.

"Hey now…" Wynonna glared at her. "Watch who you're calling straight," she scoffed, standing up to stretch her back out. "Waverly's probably the straightest one in the house."

Looking over at the youngest Earp, Nicole pursed her lips.

"I need a ride back to the homestead, but I can't take this high school shit anymore. I'm gonna go pass out in Waverly's jeep," Wynonna huffed.

Watching her slip away, Nicole just shook her head before looking out towards the cheerleaders. She'd thought she felt something not-so-straight coming from Waverly over the weekend, and definitely during lunch, but maybe she'd been wrong. After all, her spidey senses weren't really in top shape these days.

Wynonna hummed softly to herself as she looked through the carton of records. All through dinner she kept thinking too much about the argument she'd had earlier that day with Henry. Their on again off again thing was starting to piss her off and while she knew it was mostly her fault, she really wanted to punch him in the face.

"She was really pretty." Waverly was sitting on the floor of the basement, staring at her cell phone.

Wynonna looked up from the stack. "Who?"

Waverly pursed her lips, her face illuminated by the light of her phone screen. "Nicole's girlfriend. The one that…" She let her voice trail off. "I guess her name was Shae."

Wynonna lost all interest in the records, scooting next to Waverly on the basement floor. "Are we stalking Nicole? I'm not against it but normally you are."

"I'm not stalking her!"

Wynonna looked at Waverly through the corner of her eye, trying not to laugh. "Ok, Baby Girl." She focused on the phone instead, seeing the girl with darker skin in a variety of photos wrapped around... "Damn. That's Nicole? She looks completely different."

Waverly nodded. "Totally. I mean… she looks the same, just… happy."

"Well I guess she's got a type."

Waverly sighed, scrolling down the photo feed. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" Wynonna shrugged. "Just something she said earlier today, about Kate."

"Henry's ex?" Waverly's brow furrowed. "Like you think she likes her?"

"She said she was hot, in that angsty goth way."

"Oh I bet that went over well." Waverly laughed, but it sounded a little empty. "I mean, she is kind of gorgeous…"

Wynonna rolled her eyes. "Whatever…" She looked at the screen as Waverly seemed to have stopped on one photo.

This wasn't the Nicole that lived with them. Gone were the sunken cheeks and dark circles. In it, Nicole was in a bikini top and shorts, her wet auburn hair that was much longer was half draping in her face as she had a smile on her face that reflected... genuine happiness.

"Nicole looks… really happy here."

"They probably just had sex," Wynonna joked crudely. The look Waverly gave her could no doubt kill someone at 20 paces and Wynonna physically leaned away. "Or they're just happy..."

Waverly looked back at the phone, a troubled look on her face.

Wynonna had to raise an eyebrow as she tilted her head, a suspicious look taking over. "Why are you so interested in Nicole's girlfriend, anyway?" The conversation she'd had with Nicole was still fresh in her mind.

"What?" Waverly looked up quickly, her eyes filled with guilt. But what was the look for, Wynonna had to wonder. Guilt for prying. Guilt for something secret? Something she wasn't able to admit? "I'm not," Waverly responded with indignance as she huffed, moving to close the app and freezing suddenly. "Oh my god." Waverly looked down at her phone in horror.

"What?" Wynonna looked over to see a bright red heart under the photo. She barked out an obnoxious laugh. She wanted to say she'd never done the same, but she'd stalked enough social media in her life. "Nothing like getting notifications for photos that are a year old."

Guilt turned to horror on Waverly's face. "She's going to know I was going through her photos." Out of panic, Waverly quickly unliked the photo, as if she could take back the last 30 seconds.

"What? No! She'll still get the notification. She's going to know you were trying to stalk her secretly now…"

"Shit!" Waverly quickly liked it again.

Wynonna rolled her eyes, snatching the phone away from Waverly. Her sister was such a flustered mess at the moment. "You… are the worst at cyber stalking." With an upwards flick, she closed out the app. "Well, maybe she doesn't have notifications turned on, you never know," she commented as she tossed Waverly the phone.

Waverly looked nervously at the stairs as if expecting Nicole to come running down the stairs to yell at her.

"Waverly's probably the straightest one in the house." Wynonna's own voice echoed through her mind as she watched her sister fidgeting nervously, eyes darting from her phone to the stairs and back to her phone. Wynonna hummed to herself as she returned her attention to the records, filing the information away for later.

[sofreakinmanyfandoms]

November 14 - We’re Gonna Go Flirt with Superheroes

Some important notes:

1. Thank you to my amazing friend Dean for letting me use their delightful self as a character in this fic. You may all be jealous that I actually know this person.

2. Because Dean does not have the cleanest of language, this fic has significantly more swearing than anything else I've posted here. I still only put half as much language as normally spews from their mouth. Love you, babe.

3. I've never actually been to a hipster bar and it's been years since I've been to Portland. Please forgive me for any obvious errors.

4. I normally shy away from describing the reader too much, but honestly? I needed this. I needed to explore a bit what it's like being straight but looking gay, because while it's nothing compared to what the LGBT+ community goes through, it's something I get a lot of grief for from my conservative Christian extended family. I needed a fic where the main girl has short hair, okay? Okay.

Thanks for letting me vent myself in this fic.

Word count: 2416

Warnings: Language, mentions of cheating, if you’re homophobic you’ll hate this one so go suck an egg

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X short haired!hipster!Reader

“Ah, Portland,” Sam said with a sigh, looking around at the bar that was definitely owned by someone very hipster. “Remind me again why we’re here?”

“It was the closest city with the material Stark needs to fix the jet,” Steve reminded him. “He’ll have it ready by morning and we’ll be on our way back to the compound.”

“Friends,” Thor declared cheerily, throwing his arms around their shoulders, “despite our transport’s destruction, we have won a great victory this day! Let us celebrate, even if your Midgardian drinks are weaker than mother’s milk.”

Bucky followed behind them, feeling out of place as he took in the décor. The floor and ceiling were concrete, but the walls had been coated in what looked like disassembled pallets with wooden booths build out of the walls. The free-standing tables were giant spools and he was pretty sure no two chairs in the whole building matched. Whoever had been in charge of decorating had even taken the chalkboard menu trope to the extreme, making the whole wall behind the bar a blackboard instead of just hanging one up. Everything was decked out in old – sorry, “recycled” – netting and buoys, presumably ones that had seen actual use based on their condition. Also, Bucky had never seen so much flannel in his life.

He settled into a booth with Sam as Steve and Thor went to get their drinks. The other man was looking around, a determined expression on his face.

“Here’s where we get to the hard part,” Sam whispered to him. “Now we’ve gotta figure out which women are gay and which are just fashionable.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. “I don’t understand.”

Sam leaned back and nodded to the bar. “Well, normally you see a woman in skinny jeans, a plaid flannel, and a beanie? She’s a lesbian. But we’re in Portland, where that’s everyone’s style, so it gets harder. Like the chick on the end of the bar? Pixie cut, slouchy beanie, band tee that’s probably for some local group her friend is in under her open flannel, black jeans that look painted on, and totally ignoring the prime male specimens currently ordering our drinks in favor of her cell phone? Definitely gay. But that chick over there,” he subtly pointed to a nearly identically-dressed girl, shorter and with longer hair, who had definitely noticed Steve and Thor’s presence, “is either straight or bi. I can work with either of those.”

Snorting at his friend’s explanation, Bucky flashed a quick look back at the woman at the end of the bar. Sam was probably right. Too bad; she was beautiful, and he wouldn’t have minded getting to know her better.

----------

You sighed at your phone and shifted on your seat at the end of the bar. Your friend was late again; they were always late. According to the text chain you were receiving nearly non-stop, they were also probably already drunk, not that that was surprising anymore.

“Come on, Dean,” you muttered under your breath. “I need you here before he shows up.”

Five minutes later, your friend stumbled through the door, giggling madly at, well, you didn’t want to know what. They stumbled their way over to you and collapsed onto a stool.

“Why are we here?” Dean immediately began complaining. “I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m more goth than hipster, you know that.”

“We’re here because I nanny for the owner part-time so the drinks are free,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “You know fully well that any place becomes your scene when you don’t have to pay for alcohol.”

“True,” Dean replied with another giggle. “I didn’t have to pay at the last place either, because I’m fucking hot. Three guys and two girls bought me drinks.”

“Aaand, that’s it, you’re cut off for the night,” you sighed, asking the bartender for a coffee for your definitely drunk friend. “You did kill your makeup tonight, though. It looks great.”

“Damn right it does,” they slurred. “Hey, how come you didn’t tell me? I’d have gotten here a hell of a lot sooner if you’d told me there were Avengers in the building.”

You followed your friend’s line of sight to where there were in fact four members of the Avengers seated in a booth.

“Oh… I didn’t notice them.”

Dean scoffed and gave you that knowing look that you really hated. “You got lost in your phone again, didn’t you? Just in case he showed up.” The blush on your face was enough of an answer. “Damn it, woman, he’s a fucking asshole who never deserved you and I’d have killed him already if you weren’t so fucking concerned with whether or not things are legal.” They downed the rest of their coffee with a grimace and pushed themselves off the bar, grabbing for your hand. “Come on. We’re gonna go flirt with superheroes.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. I am not going to talk to the Avengers with you while you’re drunk.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as they looked at you. “Then you have to promise me you’ll sing karaoke tonight. You haven’t done it since that bastard criticized your voice, and I miss hearing it. You’re fucking good, and you let that fucking moron rob us all of your beautiful songbird-ness.”

“I hope you realize how drunk you sound.”

“Do we have a deal or not? Because if I’m going to give up a shot at fucking Thor, it had better be for a good reason.”

You sighed. Your friend was always stubborn like this. “Fine, we have a deal.”

“Awesome! I get to pick your song.”

“Aw, hell, no…”

----------

Your ex showed up right before karaoke started as he always did.

“Look at the smug asshole,” Dean muttered into the drink they’d somehow managed to get despite your best efforts. They put on a comically feminine voice and mimicked, “I must sing every chance I get, for my voice is God’s gift to mankind and to deprive people of the joy of listening to it would be blasphemy of the highest fucking order!”

“Dean,” you sighed, “please behave. You’ve already gotten me to agree to singing again. You don’t need to start a scene with him, too.”

“I should cut off his fucking dick for cheating on you.”

Because you knew Dean, you were concerned they meant it. “Don’t. He did me a favor, helping me realize he wasn’t worth it. Now, did you sign me up for karaoke already, or do I need to do it?”

The grin they flashed you was even more concerning when paired with how much they’d had to drink. “I signed us both up. After you sing your mystery song – yes, you’ll have enough of an intro to figure out what it is and come in on time, they put the lyrics up anyway, you’ll be fine – I’ll blow your performance out of the water with a spectacular rendition of ‘Bang, Bang.’ Your ex won’t know what hit him.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” you said dryly, only to be horrified when your name was called first as karaoke started.

Dean laughed at the glare you threw them. “Go blow them all away with your magical voice, darling!”

“Y/N,” the bar’s owner said into his mic when you stepped up on stage. “It’s been far too long, m’lady! Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in a few months, it’s the lovely Y/N singing ‘Shake It Off’!”

“Really, Dean?” you asked, picking up your mic. “All the songs in the world to choose from and that’s the one you picked for me?” The regulars laughed at your teasing as Dean raised their beer in salute. Almost before you had a moment to collect yourself, the music was off and you could feel your ex studying you from his seat near the back with his new woman draped across him. You shut him out of your mind and focus and launched yourself into the song, determined to have fun even if you weren’t really drunk enough to do a Taylor Swift song for karaoke.

----------

Bucky hadn’t been paying attention to much other than his beer until the karaoke started. Their booth was set up at the perfect spot for watching the stage, and he chided himself for the way his heart jumped when you stepped on stage.

“Really, Dean?” you joked, shooting a look at your friend who did not look like – he? She? Bucky couldn’t tell which – would be interested in hanging out in a bar like this. Then you took a deep breath and wow, your whole demeanor changed as you started singing. It was like the song took over you and you had an entirely different energy about you.

“I go on too many dates, but I can’t make ‘em stay,” you sang, and Bucky watched you work the stage, using the mic stand to your theatrical advantage even as you held the mic in your hand. He’d say you were hamming it up for the crowd, but there was something about your performance that said maybe some of the words were hitting a little too close to home for you to be too flippant with them.

“My ex man brought his new girlfriend,” and he didn’t miss the way your eyes flickered to a couple in the back. “And to the fella over there with the hella good hair, why don’t you come on over baby? We can shake, shake, shake.”

He almost choked on his beer, because he could swear that during that last line you had looked over and winked at him in a very “I’m not a lesbian and I want to climb you like a tree” type way. Bucky’s eyes quickly flickered to Sam to see if the other man caught it, but if he had, he wasn’t giving any indication of it.

It had to have been the performance, right? You were just working the audience. When the song ended, he made sure to applaud, and soon your friend (Dean, the announcer called them) was on stage singing like they were, well, as hammered as they looked.

----------

“Come ooooonnnn,” Dean whined, tugging on your sleeve. “Y/N, they’re in town and they’re in this bar and Thor’s so hot I’m surprised I don’t have a sunburn yet. I can’t talk to them alone. Come flirt with me.”

Your friend wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, so you slammed back the rest of your drink and stood.

“Fine,” you said, “but if you look like you’re going to puke on an Avenger at any point I’m dragging you home.”

“Yay!” they cheered, immediately pulling you over to their table and sliding into the booth next to Thor. “Hello, gentlemen of the Avengers. My name is Dean, I’m genderfluid and pansexual and would gladly climb any of you. This is Y/N and she’s a straight prude but if you give her enough alcohol you might be able to get a nice make-out session with her.”

You groaned and rubbed your face with your hand. “Sorry for my friend here. They passed merely being drunk an hour before karaoke started.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Captain America (YOU WERE TALKING TO CAPTAIN AMERICA?!?) said. “I’m Steve, and this is Bucky, Sam, and Thor.”

“Hi, Thor.” Dean batted their eyelashes and you choked back a snerk.

Bucky pushed at Sam and the two slid a little further back in the booth, making space for you to sit next to the soldier. He motioned to the seat and you slid next to him hesitantly.

“Sorry for interrupting your evening,” you apologized quietly, although Dean had long since tuned you out in favor of attempting to seduce the god of thunder. “Dean gets an idea their head and I’m basically stuck along for the ride.”

“It’s no problem,” Sam said smoothly. “I do have one question, though. Are you really straight?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Bucky thought that might be the nicest sound he’d ever heard. “Yes, I’m really straight. Most people are surprised, but my sense of style wasn’t enough to keep jerks from hitting on me so I got a haircut and fell in love with the style. It’s let me fly under the radar a lot more frequently, which is nice.”

“I can’t imagine how,” Bucky said, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “You’re beautiful.”

Before you could thank him, a voice to your left made you freeze.

“Y/N.”

Dean’s attention was snapped away from Thor and they stared down your ex. “Listen, asshole –”

“Dean.” You held up a finger to stop your friend before they made too much of a scene before entirely turning to your ex. “What do you want, Daniel?”

“It’s free karaoke time,” he crooned, ignoring how unwanted he obviously was. “I thought maybe we could do a duet together, for old time’s sake?”

You affixed him with a glare that would whither a plant. “Why on earth would I want to be reminded of our time together?”

That seemed to shake his confidence a bit. “I’m just being friendly,” he snapped.

“You don’t know how to just be friendly. We’re over, Daniel, so get over it already. If you really wanted me, you wouldn’t have cheated.”

“I believe you heard the lady,” Thor cut in before Daniel could reply. “She wishes for you to leave her alone, and I suggest you abide by her wishes.

For the first time he seemed to notice who you were sitting with, and he sulked off back to his date.

“Well,” Sam broke the silence that had fallen over the table, “I’m guessing that relationship being over is a good thing?”

You nodded. “Thank you,” you told Thor. “I appreciate the support.”

“Anytime, m’lady.”

----------

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asked you softly a few minutes later when you had yet to join the table’s renewed conversation.

You shook your head. “He was a jerk who cheated on me so I got out. It was a long time ago.”

“How could anyone throw away someone like you?”

The earnest way he said it made you blush.

“His loss,” you whispered shyly.

Bucky only paused a moment before asking, “Could I make his loss my gain?”

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that very much.”