#may I suggest that if you’re queer and straight people are comfortable around you and queer people are not……… perhaps! you’re a bigot!!!

[whiskeyswifty]

.

[xiaq]

AO3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2

Pt. 3 I combined the prompts: Outsider POV, Steve Harrington is an Idiot (affectionate), Everyone is Queer Because I Said So, and @c0olness's hyper-specific Wayne's Boyfriend Owns a Gay Bar in Indianapolis and Introduces Steve to a Drag Queen. :)

Angel Reyes has loved Wayne Munson about as long as he’s loved himself. The timing is not coincidental.

Which is why he’s willing to wait for him, even when Angel’s patience is worn thin like the shirt he stole from Wayne three years ago and wears like a prayer to bed.

Some nights, when Wayne calls at the end of his shift and Angel is wiping down his own bar at closing, he’s tempted to say: we might not have much time left—shouldn’t we spend what we do have together?

But he doesn’t.

Because he already knows the answer.

Because the same reason he fell in love with Wayne is the reason Wayne won’t move to Indy. The man is loyal to a fault and when he gives himself to people he gives all of himself and there’s no force in the world that would convince Wayne to leave Hawkins if he thought Eddie still needed him there. Because Wayne loves Angel. But Wayne loved Eddie first. And Angel can hardly begrudge him of that.

So he repeats a well-worn mantra, only slightly comforting: not today, but someday. And he hangs up the phone and he checks the calendar and he looks forward to the time he is allowed. If there’s one thing he learned over the years, it’s that he can’t get greedy when he already has a good thing.

Wayne is worth the quiet agony of patience.

So when he’s locking up for the night and the phone rings, he expects the conversation to take a familiar path. 

“Evening, handsome,” he says, canting his hip against the counter. “You tell him yet?”

It’s been his standard greeting for close to a year. Why the man won’t just tell his gay nephew that he is, conveniently, also gay, is beyond Angel. But then, listening has always been Wayne’s strong suit. Talking, not so much.

“Well,” Wayne says. And that’s new.

“Well?”

“I did, actually. After I walked in on him and Steve kissin’ last night—“

“Finally!” Angel crows. The saga of Eddie and Steve and their will-they-won’t-they relationship had quickly surpassed even his favorite telenovela’s dramatic storylines. The pretty jock with hidden depths and the nerdy metalhead falling in love? Hospital vigils? Protracted pining while sharing a bed? Impeccable. 

“They’re together now,” Wayne finishes.

“Darling,” Angel says, not for the first time, “I’d like to remind you that you are not paying per word for this call.”

Wayne huffs at him, also not for the first time.

“Steve didn’t know liking both boys and girls meant he was bisexual. He thought there was some sort of…threshold he needed to pass to be queer enough to date a man. I suppose Robin set him straight––or, not so straight as the case may be––” he chuckles a little at his own joke, “And he came over to declare his love as soon as his shift ended.”

Angel takes a moment to digest that. “...Maybe they use Eddie as the sperm donor if they want kids,”  he suggests.

“Ease up, it’s not like they teach this shit in school. Bet I’d been a lot more confused too if I had the luxury of liking both.”

“Alright, I won’t pick on your future son-in-law, promise.”

“ Speaking of school,” Wayne says, sidestepping his implication. “Eddie got his diploma in the mail yesterday.”

“You going to do something to celebrate?”

“Actually, we thought we’d take a trip to Indy this weekend.”

Angel twists the phone’s cord around his finger. “…you’re supposed to come next weekend.”

“So you’d have to see me two weeks in a row, if you can bear it.”

“A trial, to be sure. When you say…” he pauses, trying to figure out how to clarify without breaking his own heart. “When you come this weekend. Would you want us—would you want me. To meet them?”

He closes his eyes and bangs a fist against his forehead because that is not the safe way to ask that question. 

“It'd be pretty weird if they didn’t meet the person hosting them.”

“Oh, I see. You’re just using me for my five star accommodations,” he says, because he’s apparently determined to dig his own grave.

“No. Wayne says, “those are nice. But mostly I just want to introduce them to my boyfriend.”

“Ah.”

“And saying shit like that makes me think you’re trying to compete with Steve in the stupid Olympics.”

Angel makes an outraged noise but Wayne talks over him which is unique enough an occurrence that Angel lets him get away with it.

“See,” Wayne says. “The boys have decided they don’t want to stay in Hawkins long-term. They figure they’ll stay another year. Save some money. Make sure the kids are settled. And then Eddie’s set on New York or California and I think Steve’s just set on Eddie, wherever he is. I thought we could at least make a case for Indy, though. ‘Cause if Eddie isn’t staying in Hawkins, I’ve got no reason to.”

“Ah,” Angel says again. “And you don’t have any interest in New York or California?”

“I sure don’t,” Wayne says levelly.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’ll mop the floors and clean the windows. Give them the best showing I can. Should we plan to take them to one of the…heavier… music venues? I can probably have Frank cover for me, I’d just need to ask him now.”

“Nah. I figure I’ll help you out Saturday night and let them explore on their own. Eddie’s already making a list of options. But Friday is drag night at your place, right?”

“It is.”

“We should start them with that, I think.”

Angel grins. “Their debut in queer society shall be heralded by Dolly Parton and glitter.”

“Mm.” 

Angel is familiar enough with Wayne’s thoughtful noises to know that he’s smiling.

“Enough about my boys,” Wayne says. “Tell me about your day.”

Angel does.

When Angel hangs up ten minutes later, for once, he’s grinning. He thinks, as usual, not today but someday. Only ‘someday’ suddenly feels tangible in a way it never has before.

***

Eddie Munson is exactly what Angel expected him to be when he comes tumbling out the driver’s side door of the van parked half on Angel’s driveway and half on his lawn. Angel has been hearing about him through the rosy lens of Wayne’s affection for close to five years and as a result, Angel loves him immediately upon first sight. 

Then again, he’d be difficult not to love. Eddie is a bright, frenetic, presence, all hair and chains and affected airs, who shares Wayne's smile, though he dispenses smiles much more freely than his uncle. He is unashamedly himself as he shakes Angel’s hand, tells his uncle he approves, and then asks for a tour of the house.

Steve Harrington is somehow simultaneously exactly and nothing like Angel expected.

Exactly, because he looks the part: a cropped Hawkins Varsity Basketball sweatshirt, tiny athletic shorts, and the well-built frame of someone who regularly works out. His hair is verging on ridiculous. His face is…well-suited to the body, he’ll say.

But the kid also has a hyper-awareness to him, a quick-eyed, assessing, vigilant posture, that Angel has only ever seen in war vets twice the kid’s age. He puts his back to a room’s farthest corner. He keeps doorways in sight. And he constantly, constantly, orbits Eddie like the world's most unsubtle protective detail. 

There are also the scars. Terrible, still-healing, scars. On one exposed thigh, the side of his neck, and his right forearm. On the slice of skin between his waistband and the frayed cut-off hem of his sweater. He wears them unapologetically, with the composure of someone who is neither proud nor embarrassed by them.  

Angel suspects, only a few minutes into their first meeting, that Eddie may have similar scars beneath his torn jeans and bleach-speckled band shirt. One of his arms has some sort of medical sleeve on it—the pale fabric covered in black bleed-fuzzy Sharpie drawings of bats. Angel considers the mangled half-moon-shaped lines decorating Steve’s thigh. Unless earthquakes have suddenly developed teeth, Wayne has clearly been editing his stories. 

But despite their significant aesthetic differences, the two boys are well-suited, if painfully young and unpracticed in the art of subtlety. They touch each other constantly; unthinkingly. Hands. Hips. Shoulders. Elbows. And the way they look at each other—well. They’ll need to work on that if they don’t want to accumulate more scars. Granted, they hardly have to hide their relationship in the sanctuary of his home, but he gets the feeling they don’t know how to be any other way with each other. 

It’s both sweet and more than a little heartbreaking.

“So,” he says, “ I need to get back to the bar before the opening act at 8. It’s drag night.”

“Robin is going to be furious she didn’t come,” Steve says.

“We’ll bring her next time,” Eddie says. 

They go.

***

Angel’s bar is called Innuendo. 

He can’t take credit for the name, but he can take credit for the atmosphere. It’d been a dark, sticky, hole-in-the-wall when he started working there at 21. When he’d bought it from the former owner a decade later, he’d cleaned it up, regulated the jukebox hours, and started live music, drag, and deejay nights. A few years after that, in 1984, when the mayor issued a proclamation declaring the new city policy to no longer discriminate against queers, he’d taken the boards down from all the windows. 

It’s still dark in the back where the stage and dance floor are tucked away, but the front windows with a clear view of the street are big and unashamed. He keeps the windows clean.

There’s a copy of the proclamation framed above them, along with pictures of Angel and noteworthy patrons of the establishment over the years: Wakefield Poole; Tom Higgins; Bayard Rustin; Freddie Mercury, and Jim Hutton. 

A lot has changed in the last two decades that he’s worked there, but some things, like the old oak-wood bar where all the pictures were taken, stay the same.

He brings Wayne and the boys in through the back to scattered shouts of hello from regulars. He and Wayne slide behind the bar to start helping Frank, and the boys sit on stools with wide eyes.

It’s nice, to see the place from their perspective. The magic of it is never lost on him, but sometimes he does forget exactly how magic it is: a bar that looks like most other bars but where men look and touch and kiss without concern, where there’s art and magazines and conversations that wouldn’t be permitted by common society a scant few feet outside the door.

After fifteen minutes, they get brave enough to explore—admiring the posters on the opposite wall: Bijou and Boys in the Sand; Passing Strangers, Forbidden Letters, and A Night at the Adonis.

They play a round of darts near the front windows, the boards covered in shitty black-and-white copies of Anita Bryant’s face.

They sit at a table near the stage when the show starts. They pull their chairs together. They hold hands on the tabletop. They laugh and shout and sing along and kiss when invited.

After, when they’re back at the bar, flushed with alcohol and the subtle worldview shift that Angel remembers well from his first visit to a gay bar, a few of the queens come over to introduce themselves. Leslie, currently in her Cher era, steps up to the bar, accepts her drink from Wayne with a wink, and gives Steve a clear once-over.

“Aren't you out a little late for a school night, baby?" she says in her customary baritone.

“Uh, no ma’am. I graduated last year. Sorry. Sir?”

"Sugar, do I look like a ‘sir’ to you?"

“Take it easy on him, Les,” Angel calls. “He’s new.”

“No kidding.” She purses her lips at him. “Ma’am is fine unless you meet me on the street. But here I’d prefer ‘honey. Or ‘darling.”

Steve swallows. “I promised I’d reserve pet names for my boyfriend. So. I’ll stick with Ma’am.”

“Well aren’t you a charmer. And where is this boyfriend?”

“Hi,” Eddie says.

She gives him an equally critical once-over.

“Do you know what that color bandana means in that pocket?”

Eddie glances down at his back left pocket; at the black bandana hanging against his thigh.

“Ah...that I’m into S&M but that I like to be the  submission one? Like the one getting tied up?”

“You what?” Steve says.

Angel notices that Wayne has made a hasty exit to the bathroom, which is probably for the best.

“Oh my sweet summer child,” Leslie says, “it means the opposite on that side, so maybe switch pockets.” She considers Steve’s pink face. “And also maybe talk to your boyfriend. The whole point of flagging is to find someone to meet your needs and you've got a pretty one right here who seems like he’s awfully willing.”

Steve pulls the bandana out of Eddie’s pocket and, using his teeth, tidily rips it into two. He tucks one half in Eddie’s right back pocket. He tucks the other in his left. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow like he's expecting Eddie to argue. Eddie does not argue. Eddie doesn't do much of anything except stare at him with wide, hungry eyes.

“Well,” Leslie says, sounding pleased, “My work here is done. Honestly, kids these days.”

She gives Steve a little pat on the shoulder as she pushes back into the crowd. “I’d dance while you have the chance, boys. Life is short and sometimes so is love. Capitalize on that shit!”

“Do you want to dance?” Steve asks.

Eddie is still watching Leslie with a bemused smile. “I don’t know how to dance to this music.”

“Well I won’t know how to dance to yours tomorrow, but I’m planning to let you show me.”

“Fair enough, King Steve." Eddie affects a curtsy, offering Steve his hand. “I suppose I can allow you to take me for a turn about the dance floor, good sir.”

Steve bows low over Eddie’s hand, pressing his lips to his knuckles, looking up at him with a grin. “An honor,” he says solemnly, and then drags Eddie, laughing, into the throng of moving bodies.

***

The next morning, Angel wakes up early for no reason he can determine. He’s not good at sitting idle, and he doesn’t want his fidgeting to wake Wayne, so he elects to take his book to the garden. Only, as he slips into the hall, careful with the door behind him, he can hear the quiet, indistinct lull of voices in the kitchen.

Angel moves down the hall on sock feet, avoiding the creaky bit of flooring where the original foundation meets the master addition he added four years back. 

The boys have opened the double doors to the patio and Steve is leaning against the jam on one side, coffee cup in hand, looking out at the garden. He’s shirtless, wearing only the shorts from the day before. Warm, tree-diluted, sunrise rays cast him in sepia, making the scars that traverse his flank to his thigh look less gruesome and more artistic. Poetic. He knows more than one photographer who would kill for a shot like this. Something about the coexistence of beauty and pain. Something about a commentary on perceptions of strength; the allure of imperfection resulting from battles survived.

Eddie joins Steve, sliding under his open arm like a habit, dragging a hand down Steve’s side to cup the puckered line of recently-stitched skin at Steve’s hip. 

Eddie is also shirtless—wearing jeans and a riot of bed head that Steve presses his face into, murmuring something low and clearly funny by the stifled laughter it produces. 

Angel wasn't wrong with his initial assumption: Eddie’s back is littered with shallow scars as well, but he also has a fair amount of tattoos, which makes the other marks less incongruous. There’s something about Steve’s otherwise flawless skin and sculpted muscles that make his injuries feel more visceral.

Or, at least, that’s what he thinks until Steve suddenly looks behind him, like he has a preternatural awareness that he’s being watched.

“Oh,” he says, “Good morning.”

Both boys turn to face him. 

And Angel realizes that Steve’s injuries pale in comparison to Eddie’s.

Because Eddie’s chest and belly is a brutal mess of scar tissue.

It looks like something tried to gut him.

It looks like whatever it was probably succeeded.

He knows he’s staring but he can’t seem to stop himself until Steve slides a proprietary hand over the worst of it, spread fingers against what has to still be an agony of healing skin.

He meets Angel's eyes and all but dares him to say anything.

“I think,” Angel says, turning abruptly to enter the kitchen, “the occasion calls for french toast. Thoughts?”

“The occasion?” Eddie asks.

His hand covers Steve’s and presses, not a dismissal but an invitation to linger. 

“Your diploma,” Angel says, “Steve’s first time making a fool of himself in front of a drag queen. Whatever excuse is sufficient for the making of said french toast.”

“See, we’re sort of trying out this new thing lately,” Eddie murmurs, looking at Steve, “where we don’t need excuses for things that make us happy.”

“No guilt in our pleasures,” Steve agrees, voice soft, expression reverent. He tucks an errant curl behind Eddie’s ear.

Angel resists the urge to sigh at them. Instead, he toasts them with a carton of eggs. “French toast for the pleasure of french toast, then. You two go sit on the bench in the garden. The sun should be hitting it right about now and that is surely a pleasurable experience. I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”

Steve meets his eyes again, this time less challenging, more thankful. 

His hand slides from Eddie’s belly to the small of his back, pushing him out onto the patio.

“That sounds nice,” he says.

And they go.

When Wayne shuffles out to join Angel at the stove ten minutes later, the bread is sizzling in the skillet. 

They take their time washing the egg bowl and whisk in the sink, elbow to elbow, two men sharing space for a one-man job.

They lean into each other, considering Eddie and Steve, similarly leaned into each other, on the bench under the oak tree outside.

“You think I should talk to them?” Wayne murmurs. “About the way they look at each other. And touch each other. And how they need to cut that shit out if they’re in public?”

“Probably,” Angel sighs. “But not today.”

“No,” Wayne agrees after a moment of silence. He presses a kiss to Angel’s temple. “Not today.”

Pt. 4 (Will's POV)

[arcadequeerz]

.................🌠🌈26 Yrs old🌈🌠 🔆✨Nonhuman - Fictionkin - Otherkin✨🔆 🌈Pronouns here & Find Genderhoard here🌈 🌠🌈Cade / Moss / Rosie / Henry / Happy / Neon🌈🌠 🧁Queer, Femme Bear, Transmasc/Multigender/Hoardfluix🧁

My blogs Icon is drawn by @/thegameartist03​!

Ocs & Characters tag: Cade’s Characterz General Aesthetic Tag: Cadecore My kin tags: 🖤❌🐇, 🐰🎶🎸, 💚🌿🥀 & 🌟🌊🛰️ -----------Sideblogs ----------- Stimblog: @smilestimz Comfort blog: @cozycade Ft Foxy blog: @funtimezfox Fredbear blog: @70steddybear Archive Stimblog: @arcadestimz Werewolfkin blog: @howlinqueerz Photography blog: @lagomorpix Liminal/Horror blog: @liminalqueerz Theme/Pixel Archive blog: @lopbonniez

>Picrew<

*Mogai blogs if you see me Liking a bunch of your posts, It’s to keep track of them so they can later be rbed to my Genderhoard blog!

**Stimblogs if you see me Liking a lot of your gifs, It’s to later possibly use them in a stimboard I’m working on currently! Sorry for the like spam.

⚠️BYF & DNI Listed below⚠️‼️

+ Please note that I call myself ‘Freak’* often and call myself a queer & fag. If that is something you don’t want to see then probably don’t follow my blog. I will not stop calling myself these things if you ask me to, You’ll just be blocked. *look at tags on post.

+ Since I am a Adult myself, I’d rather not have rly young minors following this blog. If you’re younger then 15 Please don’t follow my blog, Thank you! -Note: I won’t be posting outright adult content here, this is just for my own comfortas I am a adult! Suggestive jokes n such may be a thing sometimes but I’ll mark the post as mature.

+ Do not involve me in any sort of community drama or discourse. I do not care about any of it and sending me anything relating to it will just get you blocked. I do not want to know about any of it or put myself around that due to things like that causing me anxiety. Please respect that. If I interact w someone you know is bad, or has done some horrible thing send me a ask explaining things.

If we’re friends/Mutuals I’d appreciate if you could tag: Animal Death/Injury, Any Mention of Child abuse or death, Heavy/Intense Gore/Blood, Rotten/Dirty/Broken teeth, Pictures or videos of cats in dryers, and Furby Hate/Furbies being destroyed. My catchall tag is: Cade No Lookie.

Anywho! Here is my DNI: This is just a list of those I’d rather not follow or interact with my blog. If you’ve read this please send me a 🎊 to let me know you did, thank you!

Please do not follow or Interact with my blog if you are: (or allow interaction from people listed below):

Do not Follow or Interact with my blog if you are a: non-system little blog, cgl, cglre, or ddlg littlespace blog

Age Regression blogs are a okay to interact and follow this blog (So long as you don’t interact/allow interaction from anyone listed here)

Do Not folllow if you are: anti otherkin, anti therian, anti alterhuman or anti fictionkin or if You don’t believe in systems

Do not follow me if you are anti lgbtqia or anti mogai. Or if your anti mspec identities, or anti mspec gays/lesbians We support all good faith lgbtq/mogai identites on this blog.

Do not follow me if you are a Exlusionist, TERF, Radfem, TEHM, Truscum/Transmed, Or Transandrophobe.

Do Not follow me if you’re anti he/him lesbians or she/her gay men. Do not follow or interact w me if you are against lesboys. Do not follow me if your anti neopronouns. Pronouns ≠ Gender

Just don't follow or interact w me if your a exclusionist who thinks they can decide who is or isn't a part of the community. Yes: this includes if you think straight trans people & straight ace or aro people aren't a part of the community.

Do Not follow me if you’re a true crime blog [aka if you romanticize literal murderers fuck off]

Do Not follow me if you’re a pewdiepie stan, Do not follow me if you are a fan of Harry Potter or South Park, Do not follow me if you support/defend Scott Cawthon & Do not follow me if you watch hazbin hotel/helluva boss

Do not Follow me if you're a Zionist or Anti Palestine, Do Not follow me if you’re Anti pro choice & Do not follow me if you are Anti BLM

Do Not follow or Interact with me if you are: Pro harmful para, Transid, Transrace/Trace, Transx, Transabled, a Proshipper, Xenosatanic, Medpunk or Radqueer or support those groups.

[herbeloveve]

hello!! I’ve seen you post a lot about the idea that butch and femme relationships come with roles that both butches and femmes have to fulfill, and thought off the top of my head that you might be a reliable person to ask to elaborate slightly on that concept? Like, what defines these “roles” and how are people meant to interact with them?

I feel I may fit into one of these categories, however I am relatively “newly liberated” in my self expression so I havent really navigated either one. That’s mostly irrelevant, but just for context in case it helps. I’m fully aware you’re most likely not a walking historical database so if you’re not up to answering, (obviously) absolutely no pressure!! It seems to be a very important aspect of femme/butch identity that’s being erased to an extent by modern discourse and expression, and I don’t want to solidify my external identity in a way that participated in that kind of erasure. Though, again, feel free to ignore this completely.

Cheers!

it has been way too long and i am so sorry for not answering this sooner, i really wanted to get this Right, yknow?

First of all, I just want to say thank you for coming to me about this, I feel very honoured that you trust me with your questions — with that being said I feel it is important for me to tell you that I’ve only identified with the femme role for around 3 years. I by no means consider myself a ‘baby femme’ but in terms of longevity, I am still new and learning and coming to terms with what femme means and what it means to identify with that role. Alongside this, I recognise that butch/femme is not necessarily lesbian-exclusive, though I am coming at this through the lens of being a lesbian myself.

Another thing- this might get long, and I may also come back to add anything I think of later, so if you would ever like to DM me, please feel free. 🩷

For ease, I will be referring to butch-femme as BF. 

While there are no criteria in terms of set ‘rules’ for being butch or femme, there are general ideals and roles that are typical within BF relationships and their respective individual identities. Not only that, when experiencing these roles and living them, they’re not supposed to feel restrictive; and they do feel that way, then these labels might not be for you- which is okay, but I’ve recently seen a lot of comments suggesting that BF culture is restrictive and doesn’t feel freeing. This isn’t the case for those who are BF- I found such freedom when I learned and grew into the femme identity- and I know this is the case for the majority of butches and femmes I see online. 

I wish I could find the full quote, but I once saw someone refer to butches as being ‘the helpful one’. Which, in my opinion, is absolutely true– to me it feels adjacent and much alike to the concept of butch chivalry! 

". . . a butch is someone who has taken on the best gendered characteristics of both woman and man, left a lot of the stuff born of misogyny and heterosexism behind, and walked forward into the world without apology." – S. Bear Bergman, "Butch Is a Noun"

I am femme. I find comfort in butch lesbians and protecting them. I love being on my butch’s arm. I love being confusing to cis and straight people because they look at me and don’t understand me. Exploring my femininity through being femme has brought liberation in a way I didn’t know was possible.

I think a big misconception about BF identities is that only butches can fall into ‘gender non-conforming’ and femmes only fall into it because of their relationship with butches, this can be the case for some femmes but, certainly not all. While femmes are typically feminine presenting, we can and are still be gnc, non-binary, trans, etc. Many femmes will present feminine, but it is often a different kind of feminine and one that is rooted in their gender and sexuality– we will choose not to shave our armpits or legs while wearing our skirts and dresses. Femme is exaggerated and rooted in queerness and LGBT identity.  

You are right, in saying important aspects of BF culture have seemed to be erased; I don’t know if this is solely due to modern discourse, but I feel a part of this is a lack of BF-specific spaces. I find this, especially in smaller cities and areas where BF culture - and lesbian subcultures as a whole - are virtually non-existent. For example, my country, and by effect, my city, has very limited BF-specific events, clubs, etc. Whereas if you went to NYC, you might find more of the culture there. 

In my experience, a lot of the BF subculture has been found online, through literature, and through art. If you haven’t already, I really do urge you to read the likes of Stone Butch Blues, The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader, Persistence: All Ways Butch and Femme. I haven’t read Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold: The History of a Lesbian Community by Elizabeth Lapovsky Kennedy, but I hear it’s also a good introduction on the history of BF identities. 

I think what can be daunting about BF identities is there are more identities within them - Stone Butch, Stone Femme, High Femme etc. and exploring these are also quite scary- especially when it comes to trauma and past experiences. I don’t want to get into this too much, but if you have follow-up questions, I will absolutely do my best to answer, though, Stone Femme [tops] and stone butch [bottoms] exist and are loved. 

Final thoughts before I go on separate tangents… There is no one size fits all when it comes to BF identities. You are well-within your right to try different labels and see how they fit, and if they don’t fit then that’s okay! It’s all a learning experience.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Andrew Ford was questioned and fetishized when he came out as bisexual. The gay community insisted he wasn’t being honest with himself; women at clubs started to excitedly fantasize about hooking up with two guys at the same time.

All the while, the soccer standout stayed true to himself. Ford came out his freshman year at Malone University, a small Christian liberal arts college in Canton, Ohio — home of the Pro Football Hall of Fame. His friends and teammates were accepting, which was an incredible relief. But his journey into the LGBTQ community was a little more rocky.

“I got a lot of pressure from the gay community,” Ford told me recently on the phone. “I felt like I was misunderstood, and didn’t know who I was.”

Ford is one of an increasing number of openly bisexual college-aged athletes whom we’ve profiled recently on Outsports. Despite some surveys showing more Americans identify as bisexual than either gay or lesbian, there is a dearth of bi visibility in pop culture and sports.

As bi sportswriter Jeff Rueter challenged me: “name a bisexual man, and don’t say Frank Ocean.”

These kick-ass kids are going to change that.

Biphobia is real

Let’s start here: Biphobia is real. It manifests itself in gestures as seemingly fleeting as dismissive jokes, and actions as harrowing as outright physical violence. Bisexual people typically suffer significantly higher rates of depression and anxiety, domestic violence, sexual assault, and poverty than lesbians, gay men, or straight cisgender people, according to the Human Rights Campaign.

A black-and-white society, most of us grow up with the notion people are either straight or gay. Those attitudes have historically prevailed in the LGBTQ community, too.

Alex Keuroghlian, the Director of the National LGBTQIA+ Health Education Center at the Fenway Institute, says bisexual people can be looked at skeptically.

“Within LGBTQIA+ communities, there has historically been a stigma toward bisexual people, and the false notion that they’re really gay and lesbian people who haven’t accepted that about themselves,” he said.

Megan Duthart, a rower at Washington State University who identifies as both bi and queer, has experienced the stigma first-hand. She says she thinks bisexual people are often excluded in the LGBTQ community.

“I’ve struggled a little bit with being identified as an ‘other’ in the community with the term ‘bisexuality,’” she said.

Why are bi people targeted for erasure?

More people are identifying as bisexual. Over three percent of U.S. adults say they’re bi, according to the 2018 General Social Survey. That’s three times the number as 2008.

And yet, bi people are still targeted for erasure. One of the ways it happens is through language. When people see same-sex couples, for example, they may be inclined to label them as “gay” or “lesbian,” without considering that one or both of the people could identity as bi.

While Americans’ attitudes about sexuality are evolving, many still adhere to more binary definitions of sexual orientation. A recent YouGov poll found 41 percent of American adults don’t think sexuality is a spectrum (conversely, 37 percent think it is).

As Ford puts it, bisexuality is stereotypically viewed as “the stepping stone stage.” That ties into one of the more insidious aspects of bi-erasure: the belief that it’s just a phase. It’s a line Ford recalls hearing many times, from both men and women.

“(Gay men) said, ‘I came out as bisexual first. It’s just a phase, you won’t be there long,’” Ford said. “I was also scared how women would think about it. They wanted to change me. Some of them wanted to use it as a thrill they were seeking.”

When professional hockey player Zach Sullivan came out as bi, his father told him it meant he was still making up his mind.

“I remember what my dad said when I told him,” Sullivan said. “‘Well, you aren’t all the way there. You haven’t really decided.’ I was like, ‘no, I know I’m attracted to both genders. I’m not halfway towards coming out as gay.’”

The bi burden

Every LGBTQ person can relate to the fear and anxiety of coming out. But for most of us, once we do it, it’s over.

That’s not the case for bi people.

“We have to keep coming out to our significant others, whether it’s a man or a woman,” Ford said. “If you’re gay and you start dating a gay, you’re not going to be like, ‘I have to tell you something: I’m gay.’ They’re going to be like, ‘no shit.’”

And once bi people do come out, they could get charged with being greedy — the sexual equivalent of having their cake and eating it, too. The insult angers Sullivan.

“The majority of people in the LGBT+ community have struggled with their sexuality, and when they finally become comfortable enough to come out in the open with their sexuality, I don’t think the first thing to say to someone who’s come out as bisexual is they’re greedy,” Sullivan said. “I took over 10 years to get to where I am.”

Duthart finds the concept of bisexuality can be difficult to explain. She largely identifies as queer.

“I’ve had coaches question whether I’m rebelling or going through a phase,” she said. “Then when I explain the whole queer aspect, they’re like, ‘Oh, OK. That seems more justified.’ I don’t want to have to justify those things, but I sort of have to.”

Changing attitudes

Jack Storrs came out as bisexual last year as a college football captain. His teammates at Pomona-Pitzer rallied around him, and wore Pride decals on their helmets.

But even some who were supportive suggested he was on his way to identifying as gay. Storrs said he couldn’t hide his feelings for men anymore, and came out because he wanted to explore.

Maybe he was gay, maybe he wasn’t. The questions didn't bother him. He was a relieved to have the dialogue.

“It was killing me on the inside,” Storrs said. “It got to the point where I was like, ‘screw it.’ This is who I am, and this was meant to be.”

Nowadays, Storrs says he’s more towards the “gay end of the spectrum,” and expects the fluidity to continue.

He’s cool with that, and numbers show his peers are, too. Generation Z is among the most progressive and diverse in U.S. history. A 2018 study from Ipsos Mori shows only 66 percent of young people today identify exclusively as heterosexual.

Young people have a better understanding of how sexuality can evolve, says Keuroghlian.

“There’s been less of a reflex to box people in, and categorize people in ways that could be static,” he said. “A key part of all of this is not projecting behavior or projecting attraction. People tell us — they self-identify that’s who they are. And we have to honor that.”

Visibility challenges misperceptions

But to get back to Rueter’s question: can you name a famous out bisexual person besides Frank Ocean?

It’s challenging, and the lack of bi visibility may be one of the biggest contributors towards bi-erasure. But that is changing. Each person who comes out as bisexual has the ability to change perceptions within their own communities — and many young athletes are.

Bri Tollie, a bisexual college basketball player at Southern Methodist University, wrote in her coming-out story she refuses to conform.

“It is important to be visible because everyone is unique,” she wrote. “Our uniqueness means no one should not have to give up a part of themselves to conform. It is called self-respect.”

Growing up, Storrs tried to shut off his attraction to guys. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal, but the angst became all-encompassing.

Storrs is done hiding any part of himself. He did that for far too long, and is now out for all to see.

“I am bisexual, and my point is, I don’t really give a shit what anybody else thinks,” Storrs said. “This is who I am, and I don’t have to figure it out, but the reason I’m coming out is to figure it out, or at least get to a point where I’m comfortable.”

With their stories, these young bi athletes are making it more comfortable for bi people every single day.

[ateezaligned]

How OnlyOneOf portrayed queer relationships and dynamics in libidO, w a hint of good ol’ yearning

(disclaimer: this strictly about the mv and in no way I’m implying these dynamics are translated to real life and their friendships if u suggest that ill kick you, don’t ship real ppl romantically pls)

The storyline of Instinct pt. 1 tell us this album is focused on self-discovery and how young people repress their “urges”, but the way all three subplots play with this concept is super fascinating!

The KB/Yoojung situation (which is my favorite subplot!!): From my point of view, Yoojung and KB show a relationship that is just blossoming. The song starts with tying up Yoojung’s hands, he is being contained, and his lyrics are literally “I’m attracted for no reason”, now I looked up other translations besides the original and it also has to do with being ‘pulled’, like Yoojung is being pulled into this relationship for ‘no reason’, he thinks he needs one to fall in love with another man. Rationalizing your feelings is a way to separate yourself from them. Therefore, Yoojung plays the more hesitant part, he overthinks, his super ego policing strongly what he feels.

On the other hand, KB is seen initiating most of the physical contact between them, and he does it in a way that makes it easy for Yoojung to pull back if he doesn’t want it. KB is also always at least an arm away, inside a comfortable space for Yoojung to reach for him if he wants to. In their first scene of close contact, Yoojung is the one laying his head on KB’s shoulder, and he keeps control of their closeness throughout the whole video, despite KB breaking it with the soft touches we see, such as fixing Yoojung’s hair or putting his hand on his shoulder in the beach scene. And all this gentle-ness contrasts so well, bc we also see KB’s character initiating contact with others! He pulls Junji for a hug when both of them are shirtless and he does it so nonchalantly! It’s obvious he is okay with /more/, but he respects Yoojung’s boundaries and never pushes.

The scooter scene is great, bc we can see Yoojung hugging and pressing their thighs and putting his hands in the air, he feels more carefree, he was able to get past his own inhibitions and it’s so great to see.

So Yoojung and KB's is like a first relationship: you are stepping on eggshells, you don’t know what you’re doing or looking for. A lot of queer people start dating into adulthood, and even with previous ‘straight’ dating experience, everything is so incredibly new! And it’s great but also anxiety inducing and frustrating.

Then, there’s Rie and Junji. A thing I found incredibly interesting is that in every scene of them (except two) they’re already in contact. In the car they’re holding hands, and when they’re hugging and eating lollipops, and back to back in the basketball court, we don’t know who started it, but it doesn’t matter because Junji and Rie are equals and stand on the same ground of mutual love, respect and experience, they’re having fun and smiling at one another, even when they’re playing basketball face to face, their eyes are on each other and its playful and great. Rie has one of the best lyrics in the song that is “I trust youand I accept it”. Junji and Rie don’t need to fight their instincts, really, because they know everything is reciprocated and their libido (not as in sexual drive but as in life energy) is matched in the other, they have trust over everything else, and this can also be shown in the only scene where Rie lays his head on Junji’s back, he’s supporting himself on his partner and Junji accepts it because relationships aren’t only fun but also healing and giving someone a place to rest. And Junji does his part and bandages Rie’s wounds, which @henlex pointed out as a Achilles and Patroclus reference, being these basically the top tier of gay love and companionship, when Patroclus died (represented by Rie), Achilles dies avenging him, asking for their ashes to be mixed so they could be forever one. So yeah, let’s yearn for something like this gays.

Finally, the trio. They’re the first ones to have their solo scenes, and you can see Love in the bathtub, he is naked and exposed, playing with some rosemary leaves (yeah I went to someone and asked them if they recognised the plant leave me alone). Rosemary used to be given to Aphrodite bc it was used as an aphrodisiac. It also represents fidelity. Yeah. So Love is playing with fidelity, basically. Many thoughts were thought.

Then, Nine and Mill are a continuous contrast throughout the mv. While Nine is inside and laying on the floor, cozy and reading, Mill stands outside in the garden looking at the window. I’ve said it before but I think it’s really important the way Mill’s character portrays one of the harsher parts of queerness that is that “other-ness”. You’re just an observant, and you want in and to be yourself with your friends and participate in those rituals, but something inside you doesn’t allow you to. In here, though, is not just ‘I want to identify with my straight friends’ but ‘I want to be free like these other gays, why can’t I do it?’.

Nine and Love’s relationship doesn’t really show a lot of romantic moments, in fact, I can’t really think about something between them that was, intimate and sensual? yes, but not romantic. Which is completely okay. Sex is not something bad, and gay sex is constantly demonized. Casual sex is okay and sex with friends and whatever, as long as everyone involved is a consenting adult, sex is okay. So to me, Love and Nine are friends, the arm around the neck seemed casual and natural, they’re comfortable with each other, and they’re also comfortable with mill, as shown in the creek scene. They didn’t mind the audience (yeah this sounds kinky ik), both nine and love are pushing the boundaries, unlike kb. But pushing isn’t always wrong, per se.

Nine starts with the lyrics “leave it, libido, we’re like roots (…) mixing together with no rules”, while Love sings “don’t suppress it just accept it”. Both nine and love are clear with their intentions and instincts, their subconscious is not their enemy in any way, since both of them accept the relationship they have.

Meanwhile, Mill battles with his libido, but it’s not like Yoojung who has a partner that actually loves him, if Mill takes the chance and jumps, he doesn’t know where he is going to land. In the whole video, not even once Mill touches someone else, even if he desperately wants to (Yongsoo did a great acting work I’m still so amazed!!). The yearning and pining over Love, who pulls him in and gazes at him, is such a good concept, because even if Love is giving him all the signals that there is (he is with another boy openly, allows close contact and shows himself in front of mill), Mill will still doubt himself and what he is doing. Hesitation and all, he takes a leap of faith in that one scene where he approaches Nine and Love, and keeps eye contact.

Now here is where the controversial crotch grabbing scene comes, and both Love and Nine sing. They say they’re walking over shallow water, so it’s not risky, they’re not gonna drown, and there’s no one around and they just “keep walking”. They do their thing with no care of what others may think. But also, Nine asks “what you need?” And “why can’t you see the light over there?” now, maybe after the whole no compromises he did catch feelings for Love, but Love, playing with fidelity as previously stated, answers “I’m gonna go where I feel like going”.

And then we have Mill’s rap. He talks about how this ‘experience’ can’t be compared to anything else but it’s an experiment. Now I know a thing or two about downplaying queer experiences, it isn’t unusual for gay ppl to look at things our younger selves did and think ‘how did I even passed as straight?’. Mill, even after saying it was just this experiment, says “you’re already putting a period, that doesn’t end things”. So, my guess, since after that we don’t see them directly interacting unlike the other couples, is that it all fell apart. Love, having the upper hand in the whole dynamic, didn’t have actual romantic feelings for any of the other boys, and he left them hanging.

While a bit heartbreaking, I think it’s important to point out that queer relationships are just like straight ones, and sometimes they end up in ruins, and it’s okay and its part of growing and discovering oneself!

So yeah, that’s my interpretation. This is like 1500 words. A whole essay. Hyperfixation is a bitch. I need a girlfriend.

[irwinkitten]

got lucky | c.h

requested by anon: ok so for the bi!reader concept: last year i ended my relationship w this girl the main reason was because she was really insecure and jealous especially about me being bisexual like anytime i would talk to a guy she would just get so upset about it and she would make such gross biphobic comments and at the time i had so much internalised biphobia that i tried to convince myself i was gay n stayed in the relationship longer than i should have because i rly liked her i guess lol anyways (1/4) we ended and a while afterwards i started seeing this guy who i’d known of for ages (friends of friends type situation) but we just never really talked before or hung out but from the first date we clicked and the sex was crazy good like the type of sex were ur ditching ur vibrators cuz he’s that good lmao so one weekend we went to this party together and of course she is also there, i was so surprised and i could see her eyeing us the whole night, so when she came over i was anxious af (2/4) and this guy knew i was bi! it was no secret, i worked really hard to accept myself! so she comes over and she deadass goes “are you straight now? i knew you would end up with a man!” and she’s all smug but also hurt and im standing there like what the fuck and THEN this dumb man goes “ha guess the sex is so good i made her straight again” and i’m literally about to cry over how gross the whole interaction is and im so shocked i can’t even defend myself, i dumped him that night obviously (3/) last messgae: so basically can you pls do a redo of the gross situation where instead of being with that dumb guy its with calum and he is so protective n sweet n NORMAL n encourages u to stand up for urself about bisexuality / your sexuality, because what happened to me happens too often and its disgusting and gross and no one deserves that!! only if u feel comfortable/inspired tho, no pressure!! love u laura, thank u for creating such a safe space for all the queer babies it means a lot 💘 notes: i kinda enjoyed writing this one esp for my sweet anon baby. i love u and i hope this is everything you wanted ♥  warnings: biphobia, implications of emotional abuse

word count: 3.2k

donate to my ko-fi here

-

“Hey what’cha doing sweets?” Calum’s voice pulled you from your musings, your hand idly tracing patterns against the paper but the pen remaining on the desk. You wrenched your thoughts from the spiral you seemed to have fallen down, a smile crossing your lips as you felt your heart flutter at the sight of him.

“Nothin’. Just thinking.” You finally replied as he pulled up one of the spare chairs next to you, the bustling activity of the coffee shop falling into your background noise as his thigh pressed against yours.

“Really? Normally you doodle when you’re just thinking.” He countered with ease and your eyes dropped to the paper, noticing that the pen remained where you’d placed it when you first sat down. Subconsciously you must’ve realised that the route your thoughts had gone were not suitable to put down on paper, your fingers picking up the pen and mind falling blank immediately.

“Oh.” You breathed before placing the pen back down and packing away the pad and pen.

“What’s running through your head, doll?” Calum’s voice was quiet and concerned, you shrugged.

“Just, a lot on my mind is all. You’re not my keeper just because we’ve slept together.” You admitted quietly and he frowned before picking up his bag and for a sinking second you thought he was going to walk off, but instead, he took your bag from your hands and slung it over his shoulder. 

He looked back at you expectantly and you sighed before standing up, leaving the coffee shop with him, your eyes on the floor as you fell into step next to him.

“Your place or mine?”

“E’s gonna be home and I don’t want to hear them rant about me bringing people back.” You muttered and Calum nodded. 

“I think Ash is out. He’ll probably head out to Luke’s if I show up with you.” At his smirk, you rolled your eyes fondly before shoving him towards the bus stop. His indignant “hey!” was only ignored as you two waited for the bus, his arm slung over your shoulders.

Selfishly, you leaned into his touch, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach was doing flips at his touch alone. 

The bus journey was a quiet ten minutes, but Calum seemed to understand that you weren’t willing to talk with so many people around, so he was content to just keep you close, and you were unwilling to pull away until his stop came up.

When you reached his shared house with Ashton, you noted that the car was gone from the driveway and Calum smirked.

“Looks like he’s out. C’mon.” His hand tucked around yours and pulled you inside. And for a second you wondered if you could distract him with sex, but then the guilt appeared and you could feel the tears of frustration appear as your thoughts swirled and you felt dizzy.

Calum had stepped ahead, turning to see you stood leaning against the closed door, head in your hands and he knew something was wrong. Stepping back to you, he dropped your bags and took your hand in his, pulling you upstairs to his room and your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Cal I-”

“I’m not suggesting that.” He muttered. You fell silent at that and as he pulled you into his room, you felt unsure, but he gave you no chance to really deny him as he crawled into bed before opening his arms out to you.

“Cal.”

“I know you. You don’t do emotional stuff well but I’m here for a cuddle and an ear if you need it.” You fell into the embrace easily, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, his lips finding your temple as you finally felt something in you snap, the surge of emotions overwhelming and frighteningly vivid. 

“I keep telling myself that I never was a lesbian, that I still found men attractive but Poppy made me feel like having that attraction was stupid since I was dating her and that I was a lesbian and it’s so fucking confusing because I like you, but I can hear her voice screeching that I’m not right, that I’m a lesbian or faking it or a freak.” And for the first time since you left Poppy, you cried.

Calum had been waiting for this. When the split had happened, you’d been ready for it, you’d already left her mentally, but this was what he knew you needed. He knew that the relationship with her had been toxic, but you’d never revealed the extent of her behaviour. 

His heart broke.

“Just because you like both men and women does not mean you should feel so guilty over your sexuality. There’s a B in LGBT for a reason, doll. That’s you. You’re bisexual and you should be proud of that, not ashamed because some bitch with a control issue couldn’t handle the fact that you liked more than women.” 

You found yourself gripping his shirt with your fists as you pressed your face into his chest, trying to stem the tears that seemed relentless. But Calum held his silence whilst you got it out of your system, knowing that you needed to get this off your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally got out, but he simply shushed you. 

“She was a shitty person with an attitude to show. You shouldn’t apologise for the bitch.” His words were simple but it gave you a breath of ease, pulling away as hands rubbed your shoulders gently. 

He was definitely too good to you, but he was there for you regardless and you were certain that you loved him for that.

“There’s gonna be a party on the other side of town in a couple of weeks. Ash took over the old Firefly down on Hartley. He’s revamping before opening the bar to the public. You fancy going?” And you smiled at the gentle distraction he was offering. 

“We get at least a free drink if we show up, right?” And Calum laughed as he kissed your temple. 

“He wouldn’t say no to me. Or you. In fact, I’m almost certain he’s expecting me to do full introductions on that night since Luke and Mike will be there with the others and their girls.” You rolled your eyes. 

“It’s not like I went to school with Luke or anything.” Came your sarcastic retort and Calum laughed as the two of you settled for the evening. 

“Pretty sure Luke last saw you when you started dating Poppy. He’s put two and two together but he won’t say anything unless you mention it. Even then he knows it’s not his place.” Your heart seemed to swell another size in affection for Luke. 

“You’re making it difficult for me to not fall in love with you Cal. Good dick, you know how to use those lips and fingers of yours, you make me feel like I belong and you respect boundaries without me having to ask.” You finally muttered and Calum gave you an almost wistful smile. 

“You may have been with Poppy but that didn’t stop me from being friends with you. You’re someone I’ve genuinely cared about from day one. Not gonna chuck that away because of who you are. Plus growing up with my mom and sister almost made certain I’d be in touch with my feminine side.” He teased but the sincerity and understanding in his tone eased your shoulders. 

Your features softened at the admittance and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Then I definitely got lucky to have you in my life at least, falling in love or not.”

—

When the day of the party rolled around, you felt sick with nerves and you couldn’t understand why. 

When Calum rolled up to pick you up—he was driving to Luke’s who lived closest to the bar and you’d both get a ride back to yours before he picked up his car the following morning—he could see the nerves and the grimace on his face spoke volumes. 

“What?” You all but demanded when you were debating outfits. He’d been sitting on the bed watching, but got up and held his hands out to you. 

You took them hesitantly. His thumbs almost immediately started to soothe across the back of your hands to help relax you. 

“Word has gotten around that Poppy is planning to show up. We haven’t exactly been quiet about our relationship, but I didn’t think she’d pull something like this.” And your stomach churned uncomfortably. 

“We’re still going. Ashton promised free drinks and we’ll be in the VIP area right?” You checked and Calum nodded.

“Ashton has already told the bouncers that she’s not allowed near the VIP section. They’re checking and rechecking the lists to make sure she isn’t on one of them.” He explained and you let out a breath of air. 

“Okay. It’ll be fine. It’s being handled and I’ve got you. Now which outfit do you think I should wear?” He studied your face for a second before a smile broke across his lips. 

“The dark purple with the deep plunge. Is it wrong of me to flaunt in her face what she lost?” And you laughed as you kissed him. 

“I mean, yes. But I also know that you want to show me off properly now that we’ve got things really settled.” You murmured and he grinned back unabashedly. 

It was still an uphill battle, but he’d given you a lot to think about. And after gentle convincing, you’d found an LGBT friendly therapist who helped you process your thoughts. It helped you come to terms with accepting the toxic relationship that you’d been in but also it highlighted how beneficial Calum had been as a friend and confidant. 

It also gave you the courage to ask Calum out officially, wanting to be with him entirely and not just in the evenings. 

He took that in his stride and things shifted once more between the two of you. When you opened up to him about some of your sessions, you knew that your trust had been well placed because he never indicated anything to his friends and so you were never subjected to pitying stares or glares. 

You were almost sure that you’d fall in love with him faster than you fell for Poppy. 

The drive to Luke’s was filled with your nerves. You hadn’t seen Luke in years and you were also meeting his two other friends, Ashton and Michael as well as their partners. 

“Ashton’s excited to finally meet you and stop telling me to be careful when I go to yours.” 

Despite Calum living with Ashton, your schedules never seemed to match and more often than not, Calum could be found at your place, a small sanctuary from your hectic lives. 

Ashton never begrudged that time you shared together, but Calum had mentioned a few times about how snappy he was being on the subject. 

“He’ll chill when he realises I’m not out to break your heart or steal something.” You muttered with a chuckle. Calum snorted in return as he pulled into Luke’s driveway. 

Your nerves return full force as he pulls you to the front door and steps in like he lives there. 

“Hey fuckers, anyone about?” He called through and was met with calls of confirmation, another yell following that they were in the dining room. Your fingers squeezed Calum’s tightly and he didn’t hesitate to return it, his thumb soothing across the skin on the back of your hand.

“Look who it is!” A voice crowed loudly as he stepped into the dining room, followed by loud calls of greetings. 

There was a flurry of introductions and you felt like the spotlight was being shone on you, under scrutiny from his best friends gazes once they had greeted their friend and Calum had introduced you. Or re-introduced you in Luke’s case.

“Well c’mon, the last time I saw you we were leaving school. What’s been happening to you?” Luke finally asked, indicating to the seat next to him. A small smile graced your lips as you sat down, Calum falling into the seat next to you as you shrugged. 

“Life I guess? It’s been definitely more interesting with the different jobs and moving about. Building up a social life again.” Luke’s face filled with a frown at that. 

Michael came in next. 

“Building up a social life? Did you not have one?” His words held an innocent curiosity, yet you felt yourself hesitate. 

“My ex was controlling to the point that I couldn’t do anything without their permission. They managed to make me believe that no one really wanted me around and I lost touch with old friends, like Luke.” You glanced to the side and he was frowning. 

The others held varying degrees of stunned shock or disapproval. 

“Well then he was a cunt.” Michael muttered and your eyes refused to meet theirs at the assumptions. Luke stayed quiet but his hand rested on your knee, squeezing it. You shot him a gentle smile in return.

“Well it’ll be good to have you back in our lives. Especially with these two knuckleheads.” He nodded at Ashton and Michael who immediately protested and you laughed. 

It felt like you’d known them for years as you all had a few shots. Ashton, despite being the owner of the bar, wasn’t worried about turning up with his friends. He’d already explained to his staff that he’d be around for the rest of the night once he arrived and he’d told the small groups he’d be here and there. 

After a handful of shots, the group of you made your way to the bar, your arm linked with Calum’s. There were separate conversations happening between you all, their girlfriends including you on their pamper night whilst the boys discussed a possible games night for all of you. 

When you arrived at the club, you saw the queue of people waiting to get in and the subsequent groans from the line as the bouncer let you in, no questions asked. 

Ashton guided the group of you to the VIP section and the music was still loud but you could still hear each other talking. You were chatting away with Luke’s girlfriend, arm still linked with Calum’s as Ashton disappeared to get drinks. 

Calum pulled your attention away briefly, his lips by your ear. 

“I’ve spotted her. She’s not seen us yet so don’t worry.” You barely nodded, acknowledging his words as you listened in, fighting to keep your nerves down. 

The night continued and you were all a few drinks deep. Calum’s arm had barely left your waist all night as you talked and danced and drank. You’d been welcomed into his group of friends with an ease you never realised existed. 

You’d deliberately not tried to seek out Poppy, silently praying that the universe would comply. But as the group of you stood out in the smokers area, huddled together under a heating lamp, your stomach sank as she stepped out, her eyes narrowing on you. 

“Fuckin’ knew it!” You could feel the alarm in your face as you stepped back into Calum, his arm going around you protectively. 

“Poppy, you’re drunk.” You felt curious gazes from your new friends, but you didn’t spare them a glance.

“You break up with me and go running to his arms, I knew you weren’t a fuckin lesbian. Pretending to try it out? Just another straight girl seeking attention. Fucking freak.” She snapped and your stomach sank. 

“Get it through your thick head that she’s bisexual.” Calum snapped in your defence, earning a glare from Poppy. But Calum didn’t shrink from the glare, your glance to his face confirmed he was giving her his own. You were mildly impressed that she didn’t back down instantly. 

“She’s a fuckin liar! Years of my life wasted on this bitch.” She spat at your feet and you took in a deep breath. 

“You don’t get to control me anymore, Poppy. I’ve liked both men and women, but you never liked that because it meant that I had more chances of leaving you. And I wished I’d have left you sooner. Calum certainly thought so.” 

“Of course you fucked the first man to pay you any attention.” Your heart sank once more at her declaration and you felt your mind fall into the old trap that you’d fought with for so long. 

“No she never. In fact she slept with a few girls long before she slept with me. But I was her best friend as she tried to deal with the mess you created in her mind.” Calum snapped back. You felt your heart swell for him. 

Poppy stepped forward, her hand raised but then Ashton stepped in front of you. 

“Get out. You’re no longer welcome in this bar.” He made a gesture and security slowly made their way over. 

“She shouldn’t be fucking welcome!” Poppy yelled back, but Ashton held firm. 

“She is my friend. You are not. Get. Out.” When the bouncer rested a hand on her arm, she shrugged it off and stormed away. Your entire body was trembling.

“So that was the ex, huh?” Michael commented and you could feel your hands trembling as you nodded. “Why didn’t you correct me?” Calum spoke up for you as his hands took yours. 

“It’s been a battle for her. Poppy had convinced her she was a lesbian, that she was wrong for having any attraction to men. In Poppy’s world, either your gay, lesbian or straight. Being bisexual isn’t acceptable in her eyes.” Calum’s arms wrapped around you and you stood there, holding onto him for dear life. 

“Well that makes two of us then.” Michael’s casual comment had your knees go weak and you let out a weak laugh. 

“Thank you Ash.” You finally murmured when you pulled away from Calum. Ashton didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you in a warm hug that was both comforting and reassuring. 

“Hey, you’ve been the best thing for my best mate. And you were friends with Luke once before. I’ve definitely got your back. And I get why you didn’t say anything and don’t hold that against you.” He muttered and you breathed a sigh of relief before returning to Calum’s embrace. 

“More drinks or are we gonna go back to Luke’s?” And you shook your head. 

“Let’s stay. I’m not gonna let her ruin it,” you leaned forwards so your lips were by his ear as the others went inside, “also I want to see if we can christen the bar in one of the toilets.” You breathed. Calum groaned as his grip around you got tighter and he pulled you in for a kiss that promised more. 

“Oh you’re so fucked sweetheart. Especially since I know where the individual lips are and they aren’t attended by anyone.” You held back a moan at that thought before pulling away, your hand in his. 

“Dance first?” And the innocence in your tone made him laugh as he followed behind you willingly. 

“Menace.” The term was laced with affection as he caught up to you, kissing the spot just below your ear. 

You simply grinned in return as you pulled him onto the dance floor, Poppy long forgotten as he danced with you. 

-

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[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and villains

Janus Bullard: Drift away

When you don't let people close, they tend to drift away. Janus seems to struggle to understand that.

Masterlist

When sophomore year started, Janus had few comforts in their lives. One, Virgil and uncle Lo and their parents. Their constant pillars of support and comfort. And two, they were really good at languages. Which boosted their confidence quite a bit. They breezed through the curriculum for Spanish of last year and studied the rest of the material in their free time, because learning it was fun to them. They already knew French, and by the time finals rolled around they got to take a special test that had effectively gotten them a free period where their language elective should be for the rest of high school. The school prided themselves on adjusting the curriculum to the level of the students. And the best performing students even got to go on a weeklong trip after finals were over. The rest of the school had showcase week. Which meant that all the clubs and electives got to show off their stuff. Janus was not particularly interested in the showcase. He didn’t participate in anything and he knew no one who would be showing anything. So he chose to go on the trip. Virgil didn’t come along despite qualifying. He didn’t want to leave his dad by himself for that long. It was very sweet really. Janus would have argued against it, but it occurred to them that maybe if they were away from Virgil for a bit, then the feelings would calm down and they could just come out and get back to normal without Virgil having to learn that they ever were attracted to him in the first place. It didn’t work. They missed Virgil a lot, to start with. Missing makes the heart grow fonder indeed. It really drove home for him how much he couldn’t stand to lose his friend. On top of that the guys that were with them on the trip were… not the best company to keep. It all started out well. Virgil had made him a special shirt to congratulate him with passing his advanced Language exams. It was a black shirt with a yellow print. A minimalistic open snake mouth on their chest with ‘hiss hiss’ above it. Scales scattered along the left side to match their marks. They loved it. It was a reference to Remus’ old nickname for them. ‘Snakeface’. From anyone else it would have been an insult. But Remus meant it as a complement. Their travel companions, from schools all over the city thought it looked bad ass. It was a great ice breaker if nothing else when they wore it on the first day. That didn’t last long though. On the second night they were talking with the other guys in the boys dormitory. One mentioned a cousin of theirs came out not too long ago. “And his folks actually let him stay. My parents cut ties right away. Can’t believe I used to play ball with a twink.” Janus just barely managed to hide how the word hit them. The other guys agreed and, as much as they hated it, so did they. To say that that was the last time they were confronted with the fact that if these guys were to get to know the real them, they’d make their week hell, would be a lie. And as they heard slurs and jokes about the LGBTQ+ community tossed around as if it was nothing, they started to wonder. Would their parents be okay with it? They thought they would. They’d never seemed to be against the community. They recalled hearing their mother gush about the cute pride stuff they’d spotted in the mall a few times. But accepting that other people were queer and accepting that their son was sometimes more like a daughter and also gay and aromantic… That was something entirely different. And Virgil? Saying you don’t care and actually having to live with the knowledge that your best friend was… broken… What kind of freak were they even that they couldn’t pick a gender? Why couldn’t they fall in love like normal teens? Virgil’d had plenty of crushes already. He’d admitted he hadn’t even told them about all of them! So clearly it wasn’t that hard. Except for them. Because they had to be messed up in every way possible. The way they looked, the way they felt, what they were… When they got home Virgil was at their bedroom door almost within ten minutes of them putting their bag down. “You’re back!” he grinned, excited to see them again. “Tell me everything! Was it worth it letting me die of boredom?” he teased, throwing an arm over their shoulder in a sort of sideways hug. Janus flinched away from Virgil’s proximity. Being close to him made them want to be closer. But still not in the way Virgil might understand. If they just kept him on arm’s length, then things would be ok… Right? Virgil let them go. It didn’t look like he found it odd that Janus wanted distance. Janus tried to remember last time he’d initiated a hug or anything of the sort… With anyone… Maybe they had been a little more distant lately as it was. Good, then it wouldn’t be too obvious if they pushed a little more. They had to. To protect Virgil, to keep him in their life. No one could know. They couldn’t risk it. “It was cool. Saw lots of awesome stuff. The guys were dumb though. Guess no one can replace you,” they smiled carefully. “Aw, J. You’re such a sap,” Virgil teased with a playful punch to the arm. Was that bad? Did straight guys say stuff like that to their friends? Were they being obvious? “Shut up,” he retorted with a push. Not mean. Just playful. That was still okay right? “Movie night?” Virgil suggested, holding up his bag with his part of their collection. Janus hesitated. They needed time. “I’m beat. Maybe some other time,” they shrugged. Virgil nodded. “Okay. See you later J!” And just like that Virgil was out the door. They let themselves fall onto their bed. They had to figure themselves out. Again. Summer passed and Janus found a system that worked for them. It wasn’t great, but it would have to do. They had bought a few cute tops they enjoyed on Janice days. So they wore those when they were needed underneath a baggy hoodie or something else that would hide it. If there was a chance of them needing to take off said ‘cover item’ they’d wear a shirt that was too big like the band shirt. In addition they made sure to act plenty masculine on those days. They hated that part the most. But it was needed. When it came to Virgil, since their problem was just physical all they had to do was make sure they weren’t too close. Which was easier said and done. Hugs and pats on the back and the like used to reassure them so much and now they were a risk. Even if they never acted on the thoughts when they appeared, Virgil might notice. So they had a plan. Not the best plan. But to keep Virgil with them. To keep them both safe. They would do it. First day of school came around and Janice found themself alone at the bus stop. Which was odd. Virgil wasn’t usually late… Maybe he accidently took a bus too early again. Was that going to be a first day tradition? Janice couldn’t be too upset by that. It was just so typically Virgil, and they already looked forward to teasing him about it later. What wasn’t typically Virgil however was him not texting Janice to let them know his mix up. Maybe he hadn’t realized he was early yet? Janice wondered if they should ask Virgil where he was… Better not. They’d see Virgil soon enough. And he’d probably feel bad if they made too big a deal out of it. Again, typical for Virgil, making everything his fault or responsibility somehow. When they got to school though, Virgil was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in their homeroom either. Which Janice wouldn’t have found too odd. There was always a chance of homeroom getting switched around. But then the teacher handed them two schedules. One for themself and one for Virgil. Virgil was late? Was he sick? Janice looked at the schedules. They shared their first two classes and then they had language electives. Which meant Janice would have a free period while Virgil should be in Spanish. They promised themself to call if Virgil hadn’t shown up by then. Two hours late was a reasonable time to get worried right? They checked their phone as they walked to science class and took a seat. Virgil hadn’t texted at all. Was he ill? Should they text anyway? “Mr. Johnson. You may take a seat next to Mr. Bullard. Class will commence soon.” Janice, mentally cringing at the male honorific, glanced at the kid that just entered. Ugh, they remembered him. He’d had a locker not too far from his last year. He always got in their way, the amount of times he’d bumped into them was infuriating. And now he was about to take Virgil’s seat. But not if they could help it. “Ma’am, I was actually saving this seat for…” “No one. This is my class and I say Mr. Johnson sits next to you.” Janice was taken aback. Most teachers at least heard them out if he asked something. And in almost every case he got what he needed even if he didn’t always get what he wanted. This one didn’t even want to listen though. They glared at the boy… Carlton, if they remembered correctly, as he took the seat next to them. The boy shrunk away, he was trembling… Janice supposed they had been pretty rude to him last year. Not that they cared. It just would make being desk mates very annoying. Janice didn’t waste time on wanting others to like them.

“It’s your lucky day Mr. Castile,” the teacher said dryly the second the bell rang. No… Janice looked up, there he was. The school’s golden boy. He looked slightly out of breath, and smiled sheepishly. “Apologies miss,” he replied as he looked around, probably looking for an empty seat. For a moment his eyes found Janice and he was clearly about as happy as they were with Janice being here on the seat right behind the only empty bench. Janice had an extra reason to be upset though. Castile would be sitting next to Virgil. He took the seat next to the window, right in front of Janice. Janice’s thoughts were racing. How were they supposed to function with that idiot around? They hadn’t had to interact with him too often last year. And when they did Janice had made sure he knew that they saw right through the knight in shining armor act he put up for the rest of the school. He only acted like that to impress their classmates. He was in theatre. He lived for the praise. “I hope you like where you are sitting… Ah, so glad you could join us Mr. Anker.” Janice tensed up when they saw the way Castile’s head snapped up, a bright smile on their face. It was such a genuine reaction… Why though? He had enough friends. Why was Virgil so important that he seemed genuinely happy to see him? “Take your seat and spare me your excuses,” the teacher snapped when Virgil opened his mouth to speak. “I was just telling the class that these are your seats for the rest of the year. So I hope you like your neighbor, they are your new lab partner.” Virgil’s face fell and he looked around. His make up was gone and he looked a mess, but other than that he seemed fine. Janice would have to ask him what had happened this morning later. To their annoyance, Virgil’s gaze didn’t even make it to their seat. Once he spotted the empty seat next to Castile, he too, lit up. Why? What did Castile have that was so special? Other than a pretty face? They watched Castile wave at Virgil, getting rewarded with a smile from their best friend.

“Man, talk about a lucky break,” Virgil said as he sat down. That hurt. Didn’t he want to sit with them? They tried to calm themselves. Virgil had simply not noticed them. He wouldn’t have said that if he knew they were in this class too. “I agree,” Castile grinned. That smug piece of… He knew they were here. He was taunting them! Class started, and Janice managed to ignore the pair in front of them. They even calmed down. Found themselves a little amused at their neighbor’s not so subtle glances at the desk in front of them. They’d spotted the pride flag stitched in their assigned lab partner’s pencil case. Maybe they should lay off a little. Poor kid had a crush on Roman Castile. He had enough to deal with. But then the experiment started. They divided the work so Johnson wouldn’t have to talk with them too much. they did their best to focus on their part of the assignment. But it proved difficult. Virgil and Roman were doing every step together and they were having fun. They talked and joked with familiarity that told Janice that somehow, Castile had managed to weasel his way into Virgil’s life, despite their efforts to chase him away. Sure they’d overheard from conversations in the hallways that Virgil was still standing up to bullies and that the Hispanic teen had joined him on occasion. But had that really been all it took? Suddenly Virgil got up, bringing a paper to the front. Damn, they had to focus. They managed to block out their surroundings for a good while. Until Virgil’s laugh pulled them out. He was looking very comfortable, sitting there with the enemy.

“Only you can pull of talking like a Shakespeare character,” Virgil grinned. “Well, only you can pull off dressing like a dark knight and still looking like a lost kitten,” Castile shot back. Janice tensed. How dare he ridicule their best friend like that? Virgil gave Roman a shove. “You take that back!” he demanded “I am dark and mysterious and intimidating!” Janice had to interfere, before Virgil got himself in trouble. they took an empty page from their notebook, crushed it in their fist and tossed it against Castile’s head. Both boys turned to look at them. Their attention was on Castile though. “What gives Bullard?” he hissed. No, it wasn’t attractive when he got that serious and intense look in his eyes. He was annoying and a danger. He was going to hurt Virgil. Or take him away and then hurt him. “You take Smellington next time. Virgil is sitting with me.” It was a good solution. Castile would be unable to resist being a knight in shining armor, so Janice acted as if they were the big bad Johnson had to be saved from. Carlton got to sit next to his crush, and Janice and Virgil could sit together. Like they should have been. Everyone happy. “Excuse me? His name is Carlton.” Just as Janice suspected. There was the hero complex. “And you don’t get to say where I sit J. I’m fine sitting with Roman. Besides you heard the teacher. No switching seats.” That… What? Virgil wanted to sit there? And he was offended that Janice tried to help? “We always sit together!” they reminded him. They were a team right? Them against the world? They’d have each other’s back no matter what… Right? Virgil’s jaw set. “Exactly. The world won’t end because I’m Roman’s lab partner J.” Where was all this coming from? What had Castile been poisoning his mind with? “Am I interrupting?” Janice looked up to the teacher. She still didn’t look like she was in the mood to listen to Janice. But they had to try. “Mr. Bullard,” once again, that stung. “I don’t have you and Mr. Jonson’s assignment yet, which means you can’t be talking with anyone else besides each other right now.” Oh, she really wasn’t in the mood to listen. Against better judgement, Janice gave her their most charming smile. If they knew that they were being perfectly reasonable, people usually followed along with their way of thinking. “Ma’am, I can’t work with him. Virgil and I never had a problem in projects, can’t we…” “No.” Janice nearly flinched at the finality of that word. But the teacher wasn’t done yet. “I put Mr. Jonson next to you because you are much too dependent on Mr. Anker’s presence.” She’d done it on purpose? And dependent? What did she mean? They weren’t that… Had it been so obvious to outsiders? Did she know? “You won’t always be able to hide behind him Mr. Bullard. You better learn that now.” They hadn’t! They’d stopped hiding in middle school. They’d been trying to be the shield! “And if I see any more problems here then all that’ll change is that Mr. Castile and Mr. Anker will be moved to the front of the class so you can’t distract them anymore. Is that understood?” She had it all wrong. She didn’t understand. But Janice knew they couldn’t do anything about it. So they nodded and returned their attention to their assignment.

They finished up the last of their notes when Virgil laughed again. “Charming huh? You certainly have a high opinion of yourself.” Janice’s jaw clenched. They agreed, but Virgil’s tone was too playful. Like it was when he was teasing them. “Oh, my knight, why must you hurt me so?” Castile objected dramatically. Janice did their best to block out the rest of the conversation and focus on finishing the assignment with Johnson. Whatever was said between Castile and Virgil after that, it had him pretty excited.

He dragged Janice to the bathroom where he started to apply foundation and a two second version of his usual eyeshadow. “Where were you?” Janice asked on their way there. Virgil bit his lip. “Dad was home late yesterday and forgot to tell me…” he told them. Oh, now Janice understood. Virgil was the kind of guy who saw you fall and worried if you’d broken something while rushing you to the nurse no matter what you said. He worried a lot. He was a lot like uncle Lo in that way. His father not being his punctual self without warning must’ve been very stressful. “And you didn’t go to bed until you were sure he was safe and sound,” Janice nodded in understanding. “Yeah… I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm or something.” At this point they’d arrived in the bathroom and Virgil took out his foundation and started fixing up his appearance. Needlessly in Janice’s opinion, but they had bigger things to worry about.

“Listen, I’m sorry for being so snappy earlier. I know you worry about me and stuff but Roman is really not as bad as you think. He even invited us to sit with him and his friends during lunch!” he announced excitedly as he put away his make-up. “Then you'll see for yourself…” Lunch with Roman Castile and all his friends? All people who could discover their secrets? One slip up on a Janice day, one lingering look towards Virgil or Castile and they were out.

And being around not one, but two guys they found attractive… they couldn't bear it.

“Absolutely not!” they objected in a panic. “Jan, it’s just lunch,” Virgil argued gently. “If it’s not fun then we can bail on them any time. You are the one who’s so obsessed with our spot on the social ladder. What do we have to lose?” He made good points. And part of Janice wanted the protection a group like that offered. But Virgil didn't have the full picture. Janice cast their eyes to the heavens trying to hide the conflict within, to play off how worried and scared they felt. “I don’t expect you to understand this Virgil. But the offer wasn’t for us. Castile wants something from you. And he’ll have his friends be nice to me around you to get it.”

Virgil was clearly not impressed. “I know I’m not exactly mister sunshine, but that’s overly dramatic and pessimistic. Roman is cool. Like, genuinely. And if you gave him a chance…” “Oh please Virgil! You are not this naïve!” Janice exclaimed. Harsh in their desperation to finish the conversation.

“Why do you want his friendship so badly that you blind yourself like this?” Weren't they enough? What did they do wrong? “He can have anything from anyone he wants! Why would he want to be around some awkward outcasts?” Why did he insist on pursuing the only person Janus cared about at school? “Except to make himself look good? What end does that serve? Everything anyone ever does serves some selfish end Virgil. Even the most noble of deeds are ultimately out of desire to be seen as good.” Just because Janus hadn’t figured out what Roman Castile had to gain from talking to them, didn’t mean that there wasn’t some end goal. “Except for you of course, you only have my best interest at heart!?” Virgil’s statement caught them of guard. He had a point. Part of this was their fear of being alone, being found out and rejected. But it was also for Virgil's own good. They needed Virgil to understand that. To believe them. And so they did something they had been avoiding. They got close. Stepped right into Virgil's personal space. If they wanted, and Virgil hadn’t hidden them behind his foundation, they could’ve counted the freckles on Virgil’s cheeks. But now was no time for those observations. They had to get through to him. No matter what. “You are my only friend Virgil. Of course I want to protect you, even from yourself. Don’t let Roman’s flowery words and cute pet names get to you.” Kitten, knight. The nerve of that guy. “I give him a week before he gets bored of you. And I don’t want to see you hurt by that.” That last part was the most sincere he'd been about how he felt towards Virgil in what felt like forever.

All fight left Virgil’s frame and he nodded. Janice relaxed and led the way to their first CPR training. They made sure to wait for Virgil when he left Spanish. Virgil was quiet all day. He got like that sometimes after a disagreement. Janice tried to give him space. They had been a little harsh. And after Virgil had a rough night already. They knew he needed comfort and support on those days. No wonder he’d gravitated towards Castile this morning. All that positive energy probably drew Virgil in like a moth to a flame. Janice should have been more understanding. Maybe they could have a movie night next weekend. With V's favorite snacks and movies.

They’d make it up to him. And then they could get back to something somewhat normal.

It worked. Virgil seemed in better spirits after they suggested the weekend plans. Janus paid closer attention and ensured that Virgil wouldn't fall for Castile's tricks though.

They stuck together like always. Janus had started chatting with native Spanish speakers, learning more regional words and slang. They were also learning ASL. Virgil laughed when they explained the name signs they made up for him, uncle Lo and their parents.

Things were going well. Until Halloween came around. Virgil loved Halloween. He didn’t show it off at school, considering he put the least possible effort in his school costume the past two years, but when at home, he was a master. Janus had enjoyed watching him and uncle Lo dazzle the trick or treaters. They’d considered asking Virgil to give them a spook up as well, but that would mean close proximity for extended periods of time. And they couldn’t handle that. This year Janus had drawn some scales on their face and assembled a dragon costume. They’d even gotten crafty with the wings. Using a pair of children’s fairy wings as a base. Virgil had complemented them, which had made them feel pretty good about themselves. Virgil was texting with his dad that morning. Apparently he had a thing coming up that weekend and was rather nervous. Janus was happy to hear that their honorary uncle had exciting things happen in his life. They didn’t pry for more information though. Surely Virgil would’ve shared more if there was more to know. And then Castile had walked in. Looking ridiculously handsome even if he was trying to look like a crazed dark prince. Redish circles under his eyes, run out make up. As if he’d recently cried a river. His costume was dark and slightly torn and crumpled. And still he looked good. He made a big show of his entrance and made a tour around the classroom before climbing on his desk and continuing his tale of conquest. Janus, not immune to the boy’s massive charisma, made sure to glare at him so that if the prince would happen to glance their direction he wouldn’t give anything away. Glaring at the dark prince wasn’t hard, considering he also had his neighbor’s attention. Virgil was enjoying the show.

And apparently Castile noticed. He made a grand gesture towards Virgil. “And you, my coldhearted friend, may rule at my side!” Janus’ eyes narrowed. Was this the thing? Was Roman looking for a second in command? It was a good picture they supposed. The nickname ‘Knight’ suddenly made a lot of sense. It would fit. They both stood against the bullies, no doubt earning them both a good image in the public eye. If they were considered a team all the time, Roman’s spot on the social ladder would get even more secure. Was that it? “Is that a fact?” Virgil chuckled, pulling Janus out of his thoughts. Was he… Was he seriously going along with it? “Of course!” Janus hated how excited Castile seemed. “You, dear count, are the only other of noble lineage! No one else is worthy of a throne!” “But ruling sounds like a lot of work,” Virgil whined. Janus held their breath… But the laughter that followed… Wasn’t bad. Castile immediately rolled with Virgil’s contribution. “Then you may feast on my enemies!” To Janus’ great relief, the teacher entered in that moment. Their nerves couldn’t take much more than that. On the way to CPR Janus tried to get Virgil back with his feet on the ground. “You were lucky, but that could have gone so wrong!” they exclaimed. Virgil, surprised them however. “Roman and I are lab partners, and we’re going to talk,” Virgil reminded them. They knew that. But they got on fine with minimal communication with their neighbor. And Virgil had been doing fine too… Or… Well, maybe he hadn’t been happy about it… “And sometimes we’re going to have fun doing so. You have zero right to tell me who I can and can’t spend time with. I’m not your pet.” That hit Janus hard… Was that… Had they been acting that badly? Maybe they’d been too clingy. Overcompensating for the physical distance they’d forced themselves to maintain? They let Virgil walk to Spanish alone and spent their free hour thinking things through. Maybe they were a tad controlling… And Virgil talking to Castile a little during science might not be the end of the world… They could try to live with that right? When they saw Castile drag Virgil to his table during lunch they could barely breathe. Virgil looked so happy about it too. Had they been too late to make adjustments? Was this their life now? The very nightmare they’d tried to prevent? But then, Virgil and Roman made a bow and Virgil walked back to Janus. People watched him walk by the way Janus had seen them do with popular kids. They admired him? Was… Had Virgil become a popular kid without either of them realizing? “Talk about putting yourself on blast! What were you thinking?” they snapped, still reeling with emotions. “Yolo,” Virgil shrugged. And ‘cool’ was the only term Janus could come up with to describe the way he held himself right now. “No one says that anymore,” Janus pointed out, as if to convince themself that Virgil wasn’t that kind of cool. “It’s what I was thinking.” Or maybe he was… Janus tried not to bother Virgil about who he chose to hang out with after that day. It wasn’t easy though. Virgil and Castile were almost flirty with each other and Janus found that very distracting. Add that to everything else that frustrated them and you better hope you didn’t cross Janus on a Janice day after a bad night. They picked a lot of fights. Partly to prove themselves as a cis. Partly to vent these frustrations on something other than Castile. Speaking off. It was nearly always him or Virgil or both who stopped the fight. Roman would stare them down until they left. Virgil would tell them off and drag them away if need be. Both were… possibly… another reason why they picked a fight. Negative attention was still attention after all. On a particular bad day, a senior decided to pick on them. And they were not having it.

Castile and Virgil put a stop to that one. But the principal called them to their office anyway. “He started it,” Janice insisted. They were sitting in the office for a couple of minutes now, with the Principal just looking at them expectantly. “Oh? How’s that?” Janice gestured to their face. They’d gotten good at ignoring the jabs the past few years. Knowing that they couldn’t do anything against an upper classman and having bigger things to worry about. But today… Today it had just been too much. “It’s not the first time you got into a fight Janus. We want to help. But you have to let us. What is bothering you? Really. Why are you so angry?”

Oh, where to start? Janice just shrugged, not comfortable opening that can of worms in front of this adult. They wouldn’t understand. Janus heard they’d been vocal about their sexuality and gender since middle school. All they would do was tell them to just come out already. The principal sighed. “We’ll have to inform your parents of this Janus…” “No you don’t,” Janice stated. He wasn’t even scared. Stokes was a reasonable person. “Why’s that?” They wondered. “I didn’t hit him. And he didn’t hit me. No one got hurt. What’s the point of calling my parents? My grades are good, I never skip. So I don’t let people walk over me… Is that so bad?” they explained. Stokes frowned, but then relaxed. “Fine. But at least consider going to the school counselor. At least once. There are systems here to help you. You just have to ask.” Yeah, they’d get right on that. “Tanks Mx. Stokes,” they muttered as they left. A few weeks later Janus was looking over elective courses with Virgil. Janus had been careful about selecting courses for them. They could pick two courses each year. One every semester. First year, Virgil had made a deep dive into some articles about how messed up the education system was and how useless the curriculum was. So Janus suggested Personal Finances and Home economics. Which was basically the: ‘how to adult’ elective packet. This year they’d picked CPR, which Virgil had enjoyed a lot and Philosophy. They’d suggested it out of personal interest. They’d known it might not be Virgil’s cup of tea, but to their pleasant surprise Virgil had agreed. “Sociology would be a good choice,” Janus suggested, testing the waters. They really hoped Virgil would be okay with it. It seemed very interesting. Virgil only made a vague sound of acknowledgement though. Well, there were other interesting subjects… “I was thinking to take an art elective,” he told Janus after a few moments. Janus was surprised. Virgil never cared about electives before. And art? “Why?” “Because I’d like to actually learn some techniques? I dunno. They say to pick something that fits our interests. I’m interested in art.” Janus had no idea where the annoyed tone came from. Sure Virgil drew and he was good. But… To make it your elective? Virgil knew that those choices would affect their chances at getting accepted into college right? Especially for the next two years. “But we can’t do anything with that in college,” they reminded him, just in case. “I suppose it’s a decent extracurricular,” they admitted, wanting to find a compromise. But saying that reminded them. They should probably pick some good ones for the next two years as well. They looked good on application forms.

“But…” Virgil objected interrupting Janus’ musings on the pro and cons of joining a sports team. “I really want to do art. The new teacher is a pretty awesome artist I’ve been kind of following for a while. This might be my only chance to learn from him.” The arts program was heavily volunteer based, which allowed the school to offer many different electives and even more extracurricular. The teachers largely donated their time and switched around semester to semester. If this artist was indeed someone of note, they might be gone after Christmas. So on some level Janus understood. But why would Virgil need to spend a perfectly good elective on something he was already good at? He could probably teach the class himself. “Don’t be dramatic V. It’s not like you can make a career out of drawings,” they pointed out dismissively. Maybe they were a little crass. But Virgil couldn’t afford to live in a fantasy. Art was personal and showing it gave other people a weapon against you. And Janus really felt they should start picking electives based more on what they wanted their career to be. Janus was thinking journalist or lawyer for themselves. They weren’t sure what Virgil would pick. Last time they’d talked about such things was… Back when they still thought they were cis and straight. And they’d been joking about going into hero business. Daydreaming about opening a specialized store or becoming heroes themselves. But maybe Virgil would be a lawyer too. He’d probably like defending the little guy in the courtroom. He was already doing that in the hallways. Or some other function in law enforcement. Janus couldn’t imagine Virgil not trying to make the world a better place. “It makes me happy,” Virgil pointed out, though barely audible. Good, he was realizing there was no point to that class. “A career isn’t about what makes you happy, it’s about what gets you ahead in life.” And with that, Janus returned their attention to the electives. Not aware of the mistake they’d just made.

Mistakes

@cirishere @hestianerd1​ @moonlightshow00​ @naturallyunstablegamer​ @alias290​ @meowthefluffy​ @frida0043​ @angelic-cali​ @selenechris​ @theblackveilinreverse​

[bettsfic]

socknography: the importance of preserving fan creator biographical data

i wrote earlier on utilizing collections and bookmarks to boost the archival power of ao3, and in that post mentioned how i wish authors would fill out their bios so we can preserve fanauthor information as well as we preserve the fics themselves. so, here is my rant about WHY WE ARE SO IMPORTANT.

for my masters thesis i wrote about the layered pseudonymity of fanfiction authors, and after doing a ton of research, i find myself still thinking of the pseudonymous/anonymous divide as it pertains to fic. we have authors we consider “famous” and ones whose followings eclipse that of traditionally published authors, but unlike traditionally published authors, we don’t put a handy bio at the end of our fics. in fact, if you want to find out about the author, you have to hope they’ve linked somewhere to their tumblr or twitter or dreamwidth, or they have consistent pseuds across platforms. and from there, you have to hope they have an ‘about me.’ but most, myself included, don’t.

unlike traditional publication -- where amazon and goodreads and even the back of the book contains biographical info -- and even unlike the rest of fandom archival etiquette -- which, despite having virtually no committed rules still maintains its organizational structure -- there is no standard etiquette on fanauthor biographical data. 

i speculate the reasons fanauthors are hesitant to write their own biographies is very complicated: 

there is no “ask” for it or existing standard. when i publish stories under my real name, i’m required to provide my bio, which contains my accomplishments, where i got my degree, where else i’m published, and my website. all literary author bios follow this formula, so they’re pretty easy to write. other than this post, i have never seen a request for fanauthor bios. so without an editor demanding it, and without a standard formula or platform to draw from, a total lack of information becomes the norm, and almost any info other than the standard “name. age. pronouns. ao3 name. list of fandoms and/or pithy one-liner” of tumblr or occasional ask game is seen as a deviation from the norm. even ask games get a bad rep sometimes, and they’re transitory, a post you see as you’re scrolling through to somewhere else, not static, like a dedicated profile page.

pseudonymity veers too close to anonymity. an anonymous author cannot have a biography. a pseudonymous author can, but biographies may be seen as defeating the purpose of writing under a pseudonym, or multiple pseuds. a sock account is a sock for a reason -- you don’t want it associated with your main. moreover, i believe fandom creates an environment in which to acknowledge your accomplishments and promote your own content is seen as narcissistic. fanfiction can sometimes be seen as a genre of selflessness, donating time and energy into a community centered around a shared canon, not personal gain. to acknowledge the self publicly is to invite attention, and attention is contradictory to anonymity.

shame and humility. the more information you have on the internet, the easier you are to find. very few fanauthors use their real names, or feel comfortable connecting their fan identity to their real one. i hear pretty constantly how often fanauthors hide their fannishness from their coworkers and loved ones, how only the people closest to them know they write/read fanfic. moreover, you might think “my most popular fic only has 10 kudos and 1 comment, nobody wants to know about me” (which is so not true, but i’ll get to that in a minute).

fandom is constantly changing. with a central archive for fanfiction in place, it’s easier now to be in multiple fandoms at once than it ever has been. if you want to read all sugar daddy fics, there’s a tag for that, and if you’re not picky about canon, you have an entire buffet of fandoms to choose from. communities are growing and shifting and changing shape. i move fandoms, and i keep my friends and readers from previous fandoms. i get dragged to new fandoms frequently. my interests and inspirations change, but i don’t erase my history or identity every time i move, i only add to it. i am always betts whether i’m in star wars or the 100 or game of thrones. but if you only read my fic, you don’t know the stories behind it. many people don’t know i entered fandom in the brony convention community in 2012, or that i was sadrobots before i was betty days before i was betts, or how fandom changed my life and led me through a path of personal trauma recovery, or that i co-founded wayward daughters, or ran the fanauthor workshop, or all these other things about fanfic that is not fanfic itself. 

if you are a fan creator, your fannish personal narrative matters. telling your story helps preserve the metatextual history of our genre.

i think constantly about what our genre will look like in 30 or 50 years, if it will be like other genres that began as subversions of the mainstream: comic books, beat literature, science fiction. genres that, at the time involved groups of friends creating stories for each other, bouncing ideas off of one another, experimenting with or distorting other genres, and which became, over time, well-regarded forms with rich histories. 

maybe one day, like the MCU, we’ll have a dedicated production company that churns out adaptations of longform coffee shop aus written between 2009 and 2015. maybe “BNFs” will be read in high school literature curriculums. maybe our work will end up on the real or virtual shelves of our great grandchildren. and if that happens, if fanfic goes entirely mainstream, how will fanfic authorship be perceived? how will fanpeople in 2080, if humanity is still around by then, interact with the lexicon we’ve created and preserved? what would you do if you found out Jane Austen wrote under five different sock accounts across three platforms over the span of twenty years? how would you, a fan of Pride & Prejudice, even begin to find all of her work?

we have so many social constraints pushing against us. there’s purity culture, which encourages further division of identity -- fanauthors may write fluff on their main and have various sock accounts for underage/noncon fics. if you’re a scarecrow, you’re much harder for a mob to attack. there’s misogyny, which dictates women/queer ppl shouldn’t be writing about or indulging in or exploring their sexuality at all. there’s intellectual property and a history of DMCAs, which, although kept at bay by the OTW, may still have influence on the “illegal” mentality of our work. with social armies against us, it’s easier to exist in the shadows, on the fringe. we change URLs based on our moving interests, and split our identities a million different ways, and keep sarcastic “me” tags full of self-deprecating text posts. we are difficult beasts to catch, because we have not been allowed to exist.

i spent a lot of time today googling the word for “pseudonymous biography” and came up empty-handed (if someone knows of an existing word, pls let me know. “pseudography” is apparently a fancy word for a typo; “pseudobiography” is a fake biography), so for lack of anything better, i’ve come up with the term “socknography” because 1) it’s funny and doesn’t sound intimidating, and 2) it encapsulates the sensitive and complicated way fanauthor identifying conventions work. and also i think “fanauthor biography,” “bibliography,” and “profile” just doesn’t cut it for the actual work of these pieces. they don’t necessarily include IRL biographical data, they include more historical/community context than a bibliography, and the words “profile” and “about me” don’t really inspire interaction, or acknowledge the archival importance of this work.

astolat’s fanlore page is my go-to example. astolat writes under multiple pseuds and has major influence in the history of fandom. she’s also a traditionally published author, but you notice, her ofic novels are not mentioned, nor any other real-life identifying information. fanlore has a really good policy on this in place, for those concerned about doxxing. 

(moreover, i am not suggesting you centralize your socks. they’re socks for a reason. but most everyone has a main, and that main identity has a story.)

there are 2 existing spaces to preserve socknographies. 

fanlore, a wiki owned by the OTW, you can make an account and create a user page (which is different than a “person” page) using a user profile template

ao3′s “profile” page, which is a big blank box in which anything goes

(i’m not including tumblr on this list because i don’t think it’s a stable platform.) 

fanlore’s template is straight to the point and minimal, which doesn’t really invite narrative the same way a literary bio would. ao3′s big blank box leaves us with the question -- wtf do i say about myself? how do i say it? how much is too much? and because of that, most profiles are either blank or only include a policy on translations/podfic/fanart, and maybe links to tumblr and twitter. but let me tell you, if i have read your fic and taken the time to move over to your profile, you better believe i am a fan. and as a fan, i want to Know Things.

here are the things i want to know, or

a potential template:

introduction (name/alias, age, location, pronouns, occupation)

accomplishments (degrees, personal history)

fan history (fandoms you’ve been in, timeline as a fan, how you were introduced to fandom/fanfiction, what does fandom mean to you -- this is where your fan narrative goes)

fandom participation (popular fics/posts, involvement in fan events/communities, side blogs, interviews, etc. 3 & 4 might be one and the same for you)

spotlight (which of your fics are most important to you/would you like others to read and why? what are the stories behind your favorite fics you’ve written?)

find me elsewhere* (links to tumblr, twitter, insta, etc.)

policies on fanart, fanfic of fic, podfics, and translations

*you cannot link to ko-fi, paypal, patreon, or amazon on ao3/fanlore per the non-commercial terms of service

i’ll be working on filling this out for my own profile as an example, but you can also see how my @fanauthorworkshop participants filled out their fanauthor spotlights, and the information they provided. obviously, you should only share that which you feel comfortable sharing, and as your fandom life changes, your narrative will change too. it’s not much different than updating a CV or resume.

tl;dr the goal is to provide a self-narrative of your fan life/identity for posterity. who are you and why are you a fanperson? why do you create fan content? what are you proud of and what do you want to highlight to others? who are you in this space?

[sharkfish]

ps i loved this one

(rereading bookmarks edition part 2)

(part 1)

i’ve been rereading stories from my bookmarks as a comfort thing. i’m getting real deep in there to stuff i haven’t (re)read for years, and damn do i have good taste. the ones i’ve read recently that you should, too:

(under the cut so i’m not that asshole that makes you scroll past an endless post)

Best Laid Plans by Persephoneshadow

Things are going well for Dean: he's landed the biggest design job of his architectural career and is about to get final approval on the project despite how difficult the development company, personified by Castiel Novak, has made it. It's not bad for a moody omega...except things are also going terribly for Dean because he has to get in a plane and fly to a meeting, and course ends up in heat a few hours before. Luckily, Castiel is there to help and both men discover the good that can come when nothing goes quite as intended.

i don’t know why i’m such a ho for stories where dean thinks cas hates him, but cas secretly adores him and is just a little “rusty” on his “people skills.” i’m also a ho for stories where dean is a gd skilled genius but his dumb ass still thinks his work sucks and/or anything good is due to other people instead of himself. and also, heat boning. 

Confessions of a Cam Boy by MsCaptainWinchester (rons_pigwidgeon)

Dean runs a cam show to pay his way through marketing school, but he's about to start an internship that he doesn't know will change his life. Watching Dean's show is Castiel's favorite way to wind down after a stressful day at Sandover Bridge & Iron. When Cas comes to work one day and finds his favorite cam boy setting coffee on his desk, he is completely thrown. Will Dean finish his internship without knowing his favorite viewer is his new boss, or will he be able to see through Cas' non-existent poker face and figure it out?

omg poor cas is soooo awkward and dean is weirded out about how much his new boss seems to dislike him and then it’s super sexy >:) 

For Science by shiphitsthefan

“Think of it like an experiment," says Dean. "You’re testing a hypothesis as to whether or not a desirable response can be achieved through the stimulation of the anus via the application of a willing volunteer’s muscular hydrostat.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Are you actually trying to use the scientific method to talk me into letting you lick my asshole?”

everyone is such adorable nerds in this one. it’s a fic about rimming, but it’s also about love and discovering yourself and acceptance. it explores cas’s realization through his connection with dean that he’s not straight up ace but more grey/demi - and that doesn’t mean he was “faking” being ace up until he met dean. 

Friends with Benefits with Tentacles by andimeantittosting (Saylee)

Dean's never been embarrassed about his porn collection before, but that was before he found Cas holding his prized copy of Sweet Princess Asuka and the Tentacles of Pleasure. Dean finds himself sweating bullets—because this is Cas, sweet, nerdy Cas. Cas, his friend. Cas, his roommate. Cas, his—only slightly out-of-control—crush.

Cas, with his big, blue eyes and muscular arms and perpetual sex hair.

Cas, with his tentacles.

The last thing he expects is for Cas to suggest they experiment together.

there are not enough tentacle fics out there and i 100000% approve of this addition to the tag. i love that dean is out there legitimately studying porn, and the tentacles are obviously super fun, and there were parts where my heart hurt so bad, all around a damn fine fic. 

Grown-Ups Making Grown-Up Choices by Carrieosity

Dean is a grown-ass man - he can take perfectly good care of himself, thank you very much. Except that sometimes the easier or more fun choices aren't always the right or best ones, and, all right, maybe thinking ahead and working the long game isn't his strongest suit. It's fine! He's fine.

When he meets Castiel, he realizes that flying by the seat of his pants may not be the best way to attract the super-serious (gorgeous, funny, genius) Alpha. Dean's shrink has been telling him he needs to start making "grown-up choices," and if that's what he has to think about in order to make Cas fall for him, then he'll give it a whirl.

i LOVE this fic (series). i feel so hard for dean feeling like he’s too old for his life to still be a mess, but i also felt sad for him that he thought he had to make all these hardcore changes - basically turn himself into a different person - to be worthy of cas’s attentions. i fucking adore cas in this, and i nearly cried just thinking about all the damn peppers they eat, and i want to read it again right now. 

If I Run by Anonymous

"Dean Winchester is a red-blooded American male. He lifts all the things. He aims for functional strength. He counts his macros and makes fun of curlbros. He is not a member of the Tarahumara tribe and he will not read Born to Run, no matter how many times Sam tells him to, because Starting Strength is the only book Dean will ever fucking need."

***

Wherein a friendly competition with the mysterious ThursdaysAngel turns into a sexy selfie-trading spree that motivates Dean Winchester to train for his first marathon.

i really really love this fic and reread it pretty often tbh. it only became “anonymous” pretty recently and i’m so curious about why!! regardless, this fic is a really great time!!! 

It's Always More Than Once (Before It Takes) by squeemonster

The first time it happens, it's because of boredom. Or, at least that's what Dean tells himself to justify it. Boredom and Dean Winchester are a dangerous combination, especially when you factor in beer, a raging libido, and laziness.

dean: my dudes, is it gay to do sexy stuff with your male bff? cuz i’m totally straight. but also, having sex with my male bff. 

I Wanna Get Outside (Of Me) by emwebb17

Dean is a novice in the dom/sub world asked by his employer as a desperate last resort to be a sub for his recluse of a brother, Castiel. Castiel is a diagnosed OCD suffering from PTSD and agoraphobia, mysophobia, and dystychiphobia. Needless to say—he’s a mess who hasn’t stepped out of his home in literally seven years. The only times Gabriel can see traces of the way his brother used to be is when he feels in control—specifically when he has control over a sub. However, due to his idiosyncrasies and paranoia, keeping a sub around has been impossible. Enter Dean, who’s not a very traditional submissive, to try his hand at subbing for the hermit.

you know how sometimes you read a fic, and it takes ages to get yourself out of that world? even though you’re finished, you’re still right there with him? this is one of those fics. i reread it a couple weeks ago and fell asleep thinking about it last night. i cry a lot reading this one. 

Living in Agony by ChasingRabbits

Dean Winchester's life is... well, it's not great. He's a gym teacher, he's in his thirties, and he can't seem to keep any part of his life straight. When the aftermath of a one-night stand goes awry, Dean is dragged kicking and screaming out of his cozy little closet and into the harsh light of reality.

Enter: Castiel Novak, the new history teacher, who knows full well that life gets crappy when you don't allow yourself to live it in the way it needs to be lived.

there aren’t a lot of stories that deal with themes of mental illness, and a lot of them read like an episode of degrassi where everything wraps up in 30min to never be discussed again. this story is honest in that there’s no easy out. there’s medication and therapy and supportive people, but that’s not always enough. it’s a story about how you don’t have to be mentally ill to be fucked up, and while people can’t fix each other, they can help each other. content note: references to a pre-story suicide attempt. 

Oddly Shaped Empty by jemariel

Dean grew up thinking -- knowing -- he'd be an alpha.

Until he failed to present. As a beta, he has no mating cycle, no noticeable pheromones, none of the physical markers that are so important in a world of alphas and omegas. He's out of place. How is he supposed to navigate his relationships and find love when he doesn't fit into the neatly-defined boxes he's used to?

By the time he meets his new roommate, Castiel, he's more or less given up on finding a mate. He wears his secondary gender like a chip on his shoulder. But you never know what the future holds, who will come into your life, and how they might change it forever.....

Queer themes, finding identity, reconciling the past, and a whole lot of smut.

y’all know @jemariel is a gd genius, but i’m particularly obsessed with their fics that use abo to explore queer identify & experiences. i hold my breath reading most of this fic and also cry. 

Steal my Breath by Sincestiel

“Tighter, Dean, please,” Cas urges throwing his head back to rest on Dean’s shoulder. Dean squeezes. He doesn’t know why Cas wants this or even what the appeal is, but he always comes harder when he’s struggling to breathe.

what’s on the tin. a quick lil breathplay fic that is thoroughly enjoyable. 

Unsolicited by Dangerousnotbroken

In which Dean Winchester gets an unsolicited dick pic from an unknown sender which is both totally not disappointing in that it's a really nice dick pic, and incredibly disappointing in that it's clearly a downloaded picture of his favorite porn star.

There's absolutely no way it's actually this porn star sending it to him, right?

Right?

this is a destiel classic and i feel like anyone who isn’t new here has probably read it. but here’s your reminder that this is a great fic and you should (re)read it. 

Wordplay by Dangerousnotbroken @dangerousnotbroken​

“I don’t understand why talking dirty is such a big deal for you humans,” Cas complains, apropos of nothing.

it’s a “cas learning about sex” and also dirty talk, which are both things i’m really into!! and DNB is a genius so that’s even better. 

if you enjoy these fics (and you should), please give the writer some love via kudos and/or comments. <3

ps - as always, if i didn’t tag the writer and you know their tumblr, please tag in the comments. i don’t think there’s a writer alive who wouldn’t be happy to be on a rec list. :)

[hellomynameisbisexual]

There is no one universal sign of bisexuality in males. All men are different whether they are bisexual, gay, straight, or asexual. There may be a few common traits but these traits may wildly vary from person to person. In this blog post we will briefly summarise sexuality, explore what to do if you, or your partner is bisexual, and then outline a few common signs of bisexuality in males.

What is sexuality?

Sexuality is not about who you have sex with, or how often you have it. Sexuality, or sexual orientation, describes the types of thoughts, and feelings, that an individual has for others.

What is bisexual?

A bisexual person is someone who can be romantically attracted, or sexually attracted to both men and women.

How do I know if I am bisexual?

In 1948, Dr Alfred Kinsey created the world-famous Kinsey Scale. Kinsey believed that sexuality was not binary. Instead, he suggested that sexuality should be viewed as a spectrum with everybody having their own place on the scale. On one end of the scale there is exclusive heterosexuality. On the other end of the scale, there is exclusive homosexuality. People exist somewhere between 0 and 6. The full scale is below.

0 – Exclusively heterosexual

1 – Predominantly heterosexual

2 – Mainly heterosexual but sometimes homosexual

3 – Bisexual

4 – Mainly homosexual but sometimes heterosexual

5 – Predominantly homosexual

6 – Exclusively homosexual

As you can see from Dr Kinsey’s scale, categories 2, 3 and 4 would all be classified as ‘bisexuality’. This means that if you feel as equally attracted to men, as you do women, or mostly attracted to one sex but are occasionally attracted to the other sex, you could still self identity as being bisexual. There is nothing abnormal about not being equally attracted to both sexes. In fact, the massive 2013 Pew Research LGBT Survey found that over 80% of bisexuals in committed relationships were with somebody of the opposite sex. Some bisexual men may have a preference for men whilst other’s might have a stronger preference for women. Both are completely normal!

Should I come out as bisexual?

Coming out as a bisexual man can often be just as challenging as coming out as gay. Insensitive comments about bisexual men being ‘greedy’, ‘indecisive’ or ‘wanting to have their cake, and eat it’ are sometimes made when a bisexual man comes out. Moreover, the depictions of bisexual men in the media are rarely positive. They tend to perpetuate negative stereotypes around promiscuity. Therefore it’s no wonder why Stonewall data shows that just 14% of bisexuals are open to everyone in their family, while 32% say they can’t be open about their sexual orientation with any of their friends.

Despite all of this, coming out can be extremely liberating. For many bisexual men a weight is lifted if their shoulders, and the finally feel able to be themselves after coming out. However, before coming out it’s important to make sure that you are in a safe environment, or can get to one. This is vital if you are young, or in a vulnerable position.

How do I come out as bisexual?

There is no one predefined way to come out. For some men it can be incredibly smooth. For other men, it can be messy. You may feel comfortable being open about your sexual orientation and gender identity with some people, but not with others.

The one common experience all queer men share when coming out is that they have to do it over and over again. LGBT individuals do not come out once. They are constantly ‘coming out’ to new friends, extended family, new co-workers, and sometimes strangers on the internet!

Before actually telling anybody, take a few moments to consider – who you want to tell first, and how. Many bisexual men tell a supportive friend first, and then move onto telling other friends, and family afterwards. However, you may wish to tell a parent first over the phone, or in a letter if you feel that they could be the least receptive upon hearing the news.

Your family might be shocked, worried or find it difficult to accept at first. But remember, their first reaction isn’t necessarily how they will feel forever. In time, most families see beyond their son’s sexuality and continue loving them regardless. They might just need a bit of time to process the revelation.

What are the signs of bisexuality in males?

As mentioned at the start of this blog post, there is no one universal sign of bisexuality in males. All men are different whether they are bisexual, gay, heterosexual , or asexual. However, these are a few of the most common examples as identified by experts and bisexual men who have reflected on their journey to sexual freedom.

Past Behaviour

Past behaviour can be a key indicator of bisexuality. If a man has voluntarily engaged in same-sex sexual experiences at any point in their lifetime it could suggest that they may be bisexual. This could be as small as a passionate kiss at university, or mutual masturbation in the army, or evem anal sex whilst under the influence of alcohol. Despite identifying as ‘straight’ during, and following these acts, this behaviour suggests that there is at least a small degree of same-sex attraction. On the Kinsey Scale, a man like this could be predominantly heterosexual (category 1), or mainly heterosexual but sometimes homosexual (category 2). Remember, the categories on the Kinsey Scale are fluid and can change constantly.

Homophobic Behavior

Modern society is more liberal now that it ever has been. Many men may not understand homosexuality, but they understand that who somebody chooses to sleep with should not matter to them. However, some bisexual men who haven’t come out may be extremely homophobic. This behaviour is directly linked to years of sexual repression. Sometimes closeted bisexual men feel that by being homophobic their friends and family will not realise that they themselves are not completely heterosexual. This homophobia can manifest itself in passive ways through the use of derogatory slang in the presence of others, or become more extreme. Gay bashing, and aggression towards other men who are perceived to be gay are just two examples of this.

Fantasies about other men

Every man wishes that they could be somebody else now and again. Who wouldn’t want to have David Beckham’s right foot, or a body like David Gandy? For bisexual men, these thoughts become sexual fantasies. Not only that, but a bisexual man might even fantasise about men they see on the street, or on the internet. That man with the joggers you just walked past could consume your thoughts for hours!

Tactile with other men

If you’re reading this as a woman, think about whether your partner is tactile with you? Men regularly touch each other when they shake hands, hug, or hi-5. However, a bisexual man may be especially tactile with other men. Some examples are frequent arm touching and leg stroking. Your partner may even offer to massage his male friends’ shoulders. In isolation these actions are fairly innocuous. However, if your partner regularly does this, or seems to find it particularly pleasurable then this could be another sign of bisexuality.

Disinterest in sex

When a man appears increasingly disinterested in heterosexual intimacy, there is a small chance that it could be because they are bisexual. The chance is small because they could also be having an affair, or be in love with another woman.

However, if you are in a relationship with a man that you think could be bisexual, this would be one of the more obvious signs. It’s not uncommon for men who have been in a monogamous relationship with a woman for several years to become dissatisfied over time. Instead, they may yearn to spend time with a man due to their innate sexual desire, or past behaviours.

Spending more time with attractive men at a sports club, at work, or at bars could be a short term fix for them. Pressuring their female spouse into trying pegging, or anal play could also be a short term solution. However, this may not be enough for them moving forwards.

Staring intensely at other men

man doing a workout

Humans can’t help but stare at people. Where do you think the phrase ‘people-watching’ came from? Sometimes people stare out of sheer admiration, or horror. Sometimes people stare out of lust. Either way, if you can’t help but stare at other men and compliment them then it’s a sign that you could be bisexual.

But if you find yourself only staring at men who are more muscular, or taller than you, and you have always had hang-ups about your size, then this staring could purely be linked to insecurities. Only you can tell which scenario applies most accurately to you!

Watching gay porn

gay hot kissing

Conciously choosing to watch gay porn between two consenting men is a sign that you may be bisexual. Porn categories are organised in such a way that you actively have to seek out gay porn videos, as opposed to just coming across them as you woud any other heterosexual category. When watching gay porn if you find yourself getting aroused, or wishing that you could trade places with the actors then it’s quite likely that you could be bisexual.

Sex feels right with men and women

If you have had sex with men and women, and found the experiences to be equally intimate and enjoyable then this could mean that you are bisexual. For most homosexual men (category 5 or 6 on the Kinsey Scale), the thought of sleeping with a woman is inconcievable. The same is true for heterosexual men (category 0 or 1 on the Kinsey Scale) if you asked them to consider sleeping with another man.

These are just 8 of the signs of bisexuality in males. However, as we’ve said previously, there are very few hard and fast signs that make it obvious. Only the man in question can know his true thoughts and feelings – and that’s okay!

[simonjadis]

When it comes to centrist who tried to "Both Sides" the whole political divide blindly, these chuckleheads always lean anti-left. They're not "right wingers" by any real stretch yet always call out leftist "agendas" in media and try to deride any discussions of diversity as a "slipperly slope towards tokenism." They never realize that they're tools for the Right Wingers to exploit with how they rally against the left.

This is true, and it’s exactly what you get from radicalization engines. From YouTube algorithms to 4ch*n and the always worse 8ch*n, there are places out there eager to catch someone and drive them into:

-cynicism (fighting for change and having ideals is foolish) -reactionism (I haven’t heard of this issue before, therefore it is bad or silly) -accidental conservatism (I’m not like those guys, my ideas just conveniently line up with them in every way that doesn’t inconvenience me)

A lot of the time, this happens when someone has a group of “buddies” who tell a toxic joke. They could be in college or they could be 40 or they could be in middle school. One of them repeats it elsewhere, and people respond with hostility but the joke-teller doesn’t understand why.

When you’re told that something that you did is bad but have not been told why, you can:

1) Find out why it’s bad, make a good faith determination of if that’s true, and resolve to either change the behavior or, if it wasn’t bad, amend your behavior for the comfort of others

2) Get defensive and surround yourself with resources and people that will never scold you for anything, which will lead to group polarization -- your own behavior will escalate.

An example would be something as simple as a racist or misogynistic joke, but for this example let’s make it a homophobic one since I’m gay.

So a 13-year-old hears a joke where the punchline is at the expense of a gay person. Maybe he reads it online or maybe someone says it over voicechat while they’re playing . . . do the kids still play forknife? While they’re playing whatever. He repeats it to someone on the bus and is shamed. He’s embarrassed and a little shocked at the reaction, since it went over so well over voicechat when he heard it. Maybe nothing comes of it ... or maybe he finds himself on forums and sites that assure him that he did nothing wrong, that the world is “too PC” or another variant of the usual BS. Others in these groups then exchange more jokes -- and enjoy the 13-year-old’s. Life is uncomplicated in these spaces, which makes the rest of the world seem hostile or even “wrong.”

In some cases, such a kid grows up to be a mass shooter or a darling of the political right. But in other cases, they’re just political moderates who seem like normal people except that they gripe about “woman with blue hair” or “pronouns in bio” or other things that are just . . . normal parts of existence . . . because they spend their time spelunking in internet spaces and social groups where everyone will nod and sagely agree that “blue hair woman bad” and that someone listing their pronouns is some sort of signal that they are “other” or part of the perceived “problem.”

I am reminded a bit of “New Atheists,” not as in brand new atheists but as in the groups of white-dominated atheist spaces who decry, for example, queer rights movements as “ideology” that they compare to churches, and feel similarly about things like feminism and racial equality. These are people who vocally eschew the traditional political right, but who have a lot of anger . . . and, as if by coincidence, a lot of socially conservative views because their distance from the political right is not based upon altruism but selfishness. These dudes don’t want to be part of the political right because they want to smoke pot and say swears and have sex with a lot of women, but if a right-wing ideology doesn’t negatively impact them and might even cater to them, they gobble it up. The Orange Man appeals to many of these people.

Tangent Time

But, for a counterexample, not every time that people get told something is “bad” is, you know, true. Let’s say that someone shared a fandom ship that doesn’t go over well. I’ll pick one that has personally repulsed me since I first saw it -- shipping Harry Potter with Snape. Someone who shares a “sn*rry” fic, say, here on Tumblr gets a hostile response. They look into it and realize that in addition to squicking some people, there are also people who have survived csa and don’t want to see fic/fanart/gifsets depicting a minor and his abuser in a relationship. They COULD completely disavow all further shipping of that, which is their choice, but they could also simply go “okay, I’m not going to post any of this here, but will continue to write it on AO3 where it’s properly tagged and labeled so that no one simply scrolls across it.” That is a reasonable response. For me, that is simply a squick, not a trigger, but I’d still be happy to be able to easily avoid seeing it.

Another sort of counterpoint is when people argue that any group with so much as a single inside joke can be an “echo chamber.” Tumblr may feel like a screaming match of endless nonsense or like a collaborative art experience, depending upon whom you follow, but to outsiders, it can sound like one singular hivemind.

But . . . while I’m not questioning that there are echo chambers on Tumblr, it is so important to note that disenfranchised minorities having friends who are similarly marginalized and friends who are simply allies is NOT the same thing. In this case, the sounds bouncing around in the echo chamber are pleasant music, not a mixtape of slurs.

Tumblr’s probably not the best example because there are, you know, nazis and terfs and similar trash monsters here. But a “safe space” for marginalized people to gather and discuss, and groups of friends online or in the flesh, are not the same as echo chambers because marginalized/disenfranchised people NEED these spaces because the world was not designed to cater to them.

In contrast, the “bad” echo chambers tend to be occupied by straight white men who feel threatened by equality -- or, in their eyes, by the suggestion that the world is not currently “equal” for various marginalized groups. They want to claim to be oppressed yet have no idea what that would look or feel like, so every inconvenience in their minds is a blow against the bedrock of humankind.

[unfolded73]

How Do We Get Back (4/16) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one.

This chapter is explicit. 3.7k words.   (ao3)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

_____________________________________

Chapter 4

Kissing David made Patrick Brewer feel like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff.

After a long day at his tax seminar, Patrick had been tempted to go back to the hotel, crawl under the covers. and turn on the TV. It was shame that had driven him to buy a ferry ticket to Manhattan — the future shame of telling his coworkers that he’d gotten so close to New York but hadn’t actually visited. Of course, he’d lacked any kind of real plan so when he had disembarked, he’d checked his phone and started walking in the general direction of Rockefeller Center. But it was a long walk and he got tired and thirsty, and so Patrick had stopped in for a beer at the first decent-looking bar he saw.

At first, David had just seemed like a flamboyant curiosity, the sort of fashionable person you’d expect to meet in New York City, with his unusual black and white shirt designed to draw attention, four silver rings on the fingers of one hand flashing as he gesticulated. Talking to him had made Patrick feel giddy, like he’d boarded a roller coaster and was hanging onto the metal bar for dear life as David took him around curve after curve. He had mentioned that the person who stood him up for a date was a man in the off-hand way of someone who’d forgotten to be self-conscious about the fact that he was gay, if he ever had been.

Patrick hadn’t examined his reasons for wanting to stay at the bar talking to David, or the reason his heart had been racing for a lot of that time. He hadn’t thought about the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off of David’s expressive face, or when he could it was only to be distracted by David’s hands. It probably hadn’t been until David caught himself with a hand on Patrick’s thigh — a move that sent Patrick’s heart rate ratcheting up so high that he’d certainly have set off an alarm had he been hooked up to one — that Patrick started to ponder exactly what was happening between them.

He’d known the responsible thing to do would be to say no to David’s offer of a place to sleep. All other things aside, sleeping in a strange man’s apartment in New York City was an objectively risky thing to do. He could get robbed. He could get roofied. It was madness. But when David swept on his jacket, the scent of expensive cologne and leather surrounding him, Patrick had followed like a child under the thrall of the Pied Piper. He should have known then where things were leading. Perhaps he had known.

Now they sat next to each other on David’s sofa, mouths meeting over and over, and Patrick honestly couldn’t remember a time when kissing had been this thrilling. As he let his jaw drop, opening his mouth to admit David’s tongue, he felt the scrape of the other man’s stubble against his own. He reached out with his hand to cup David’s face, wanting more of that sensation on his skin. David was taller than him, and he held Patrick in his arms in a way that made him feel enveloped in the best possible way. Patrick balanced on a knife’s edge, a breath away from losing complete control of his ability to make a rational decision. He’d never wanted anyone this way, not ever.

“Listen, David,” he said as soon as they parted to breathe, unable to resist the temptation to keep planting small kisses on David’s lips as he talked. “I need to tell you, I’m…”

David pulled away, putting some space between them. “Tell me.”

Patrick blushed. “I’m not ready for... Not that I don’t want… Suddenly I want a lot of things that I’ve never wanted, or never let myself want, but I…” He huffed, frustrated with his inability to construct a coherent sentence. “I’m not ready for sex. I hope that’s okay.”

David smiled at him, a smile that was maybe sweet but also maybe patronizing. “Anything you want is okay. But I do want to clarify exactly what you mean by sex? Because some people, especially — no offense — people whose experience has been limited to vanilla, straight sex, when they say ‘sex’ about two men they mean anal.”

Just the sound of that word coming out of David’s mouth made Patrick suppress a shudder. It was terrifying, but also a little bit thrilling, and a hundred pornographic images starring David Rose collided in his head all at once.

“So I actually don’t do anal on the first date? And some queer men don’t ever do it. Being into anal isn’t a requirement for liking sex with men,” David said.

Patrick let out a slow breath. “Okay.”

“But sex can mean other things, and I need a little more guidance as to what you’re not ready for.”

Panic set in again, and Patrick clutched the arm of the sofa hard enough to leave marks in the leather. “I don’t know if I can articulate it. Out loud.”

“Okay, well I’m gonna need a little more than that. Unless you want to stop now?” David picked Patrick’s hand up and traced his fingertips along his knuckles. Patrick shivered and shook his head.

David leaned in close then, using his hand to tilt Patrick’s head back so that he could plant a row of kisses along his neck. Patrick stifled a groan.

“Your responsiveness is very sexy,” David murmured against his neck, “and if you’re willing, I’d like to touch you and see if I can make you come. Would that be okay?”

Patrick gasped, his head spinning. “Fuck.”

“Is that a yes?” David kissed his way up to his chin and then to his lips.

“Yes,” Patrick whispered into David’s open mouth. He felt dangerously close to saying yes to anything if David would just keep kissing him like that.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Patrick tensed up at that, pulling back far enough to bring David into focus. “Oh. Umm…”

He felt David’s hand sort of petting his hair. “Just so we’ll be more comfortable. I promise, nothing is going to happen without your enthusiastic consent.”

Snorting, Patrick moved to stand up, keenly aware of the way his erection was pressing against his jeans. “You sound like an instructional video for horny teens.”

“I’m just trying to put you at ease because you seemed nervous about the bedroom.”

Patrick gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he said honestly.

David led the way to a good-sized bedroom of stark contrasts: white walls and black bedding and similarly monochrome modern art adorning the walls. The lighting was warm, though, and not too bright, and Patrick tried to slow his breathing to calm himself down.

“You can take off your own shoes and socks and… anything else you feel like taking off,” David said with an elaborate wave of his hand. “I’m just going to freshen up a little bit.”

Sitting down on the bed, Patrick began unlacing his sensible walking shoes and tried not to think about the fact that he was committing adultery. It was a heavy word, and one he’d never imagined could be ascribed to him. I shouldn’t do this, he thought, even as he was tucking his socks inside his shoes. I should get my coat and apologize to David and leave. But he had to know. If the reason his relationship with Rachel had never seemed right was because he was gay, then he had to know for sure.

A more immediate concern occurred to him as he looked down at his clothes. What exactly should he take off? His jeans was a good start, he supposed. If David was going to do… what he’d said (and just thinking around the edge of it sent a surge of desire through him), then his pants were going to get in the way. With shaking hands, Patrick unbuckled his belt and stood to pull his jeans off by the cuffs. He sat back down, nervously twisting his ring. Then with a guilty cringe, Patrick pulled his wedding ring off and reached over to tuck it into his jeans pocket.

He wasn’t sure why, but Patrick trusted David instinctively. If he was nervous about being half dressed in a strange man’s bedroom in a strange city, it was more at the abstract concept of it than at the actual situation.

David emerged then, wearing a black t-shirt and black sweatpants, and Patrick took a moment to be amused that apparently making out on the bed required a full wardrobe change if you were David Rose. Then David sat at his side, close enough that their legs were touching, and Patrick’s brain sort of shorted out.

There was more kissing — deep, messy kisses that got more frantic as they gradually moved into a horizontal position across the carefully made bed. David hovered over him, holding himself up on his elbow, and Patrick could feel the unmistakable press of the other man’s erection against his thigh. Thoughts of the wrongness of what he was doing disappeared. In that moment, nothing had ever felt less wrong in his life.

David’s hand trailed down from Patrick’s cheek to the collar of his shirt. “May I…” David asked, his fingers hovering over the buttons. His breath coming quick, Patrick nodded.

As he unbuttoned Patrick’s shirt, David made a cringey face. “I’m trying not to think too much about this being, like, a critical moment in the evolution of your sexuality and how very badly I do not want to mess it up. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

David’s fretting weirdly calmed Patrick down, and he tried to suppress a smile. “You know I’m not literally a virgin, right? I’ve had sex with women.”

“And how has that been working out for you?” David parted the two sides of Patrick’s shirt, and Patrick sat up long enough to shuck the thing and toss it aside.

“Not great.”

David’s face contorted into what might have been a suppressed smile of his own. “Okay, well your chest is working out well for me, so I suggest we focus on that.”

Patrick moved to kiss David, trying to show through a little bit of forcefulness that he was fully on board. Based on the moan that came from David when Patrick scraped his teeth across David’s lower lip, it was a good tactic. They collapsed back onto the pillows again, one of David’s legs between Patrick’s now, and fuck, he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up, seeking friction. He didn’t think he’d ever been as turned on as this. And then David scratched his fingernails over Patrick’s chest and he had to revise his assessment. This was as turned on has he’d ever been.

“Can I touch your cock, Patrick?” David asked, hand settling heavy and warm on Patrick’s belly.

“Jesus,” Patrick gasped, then remembering that David would want to hear his consent, added. “Yeah. I’m… I might be embarrassingly quick.”

“As if that would be anything other than flattering,” David said as he was carefully lifting the waistband of Patrick’s boxers clear of his erection. Patrick reached down to help get them off, and then he was naked — in a man’s bed, in bed with a man, and it should have been shocking, it should have been a bucket of cold water over the whole proceeding, but it wasn’t. He just felt warm and right and desperate to be touched.

David lay on his side next to him, watching Patrick’s face as he reached down and ran a single finger up the base of his cock. Patrick’s eyes snapped shut and a loud, guttural moan came out of his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” David said, his fist closing around Patrick’s shaft and beginning a slow rhythm. “Spread out and aching to be touched.” He gathered precome on his fingers, spreading it as his hand moved, and Patrick couldn’t help but thrust into David’s fist. He felt like the entire world had disappeared, that all his other senses had bled away, leaving him with only the sensation of David’s hand on his cock and David’s mouth on his shoulder.

“I’m… God, I’m gonna come,” Patrick gritted out after just a few strokes, wishing he could hold out and last longer, enjoy this feeling forever, but he needed to come so badly, needed it to be David who did that for him.

“That’s it. Just like that,” David coaxed, and those words were what sent him plummeting down, a hoarse shout on his lips as he came all over David’s hand and his own stomach. Only when his last aftershock had shuddered through him did David move away from his side. Patrick was dimly aware of a drawer opening and closing, and then he was being cleaned up, efficient swipes by a practiced hand.

Reality crashed in suddenly, and Patrick felt incredibly exposed, again struck by the fact that he’d just engaged in this intimate act with a near stranger, with a man he’d never met before and after tonight, might never see again. Some might find that freeing, but at the moment it made Patrick feel very empty. He shivered.

“Here, let’s get under the covers,” David suggested.

Once they’d arranged themselves, Patrick returned to kissing David, pressing body to body until he could feel David’s erection through his sweatpants, evidence that David really had enjoyed touching him, that it hadn’t been an act of charity. Or pity.

“Can I return the favor?” Patrick asked. He pictured it, touching another man’s — touching David’s — cock, and miraculously felt another surge of want shoot through him.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to… if you want me to.” Maybe he didn’t, Patrick thought suddenly. And that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Why would a glamorous man like David want him?

“I definitely want you to,” David whispered.

“Thank fuck,” Patrick said, which made David giggle. They fumbled together with David’s sweatpants until they were kicked somewhere near the bottom of the bed.

Patrick started to reach for him but hesitated, worrying that he wouldn’t be good. That he wouldn’t be able to give David the kind of pleasure David had just given him. “Can you lie on your back?” Patrick asked. “So it’ll be more like doing it to myself? I’ve never done this to another person before.”

David rolled his eyes and shifted onto his back. “Yeah, I assumed that, although it’s not impossible for you to have never kissed a boy but to have engaged furtive handjobs under the bleachers with the captain of the football team.”

Patrick chuckled. “Is that a fantasy of yours?”

“It could become one,” David shot back. “Here, hang on.” He reached for the same drawer that had produced the wet wipes and pulled out a bottle of lube. Patrick held out his hand, and David depressed the pump a few times into his open palm. Then he threw off the covers, exposing himself to the room. David still had his t-shirt on but that was it, and Patrick took a second to admire the sight of another man’s cock. A cock he was going to touch.

It was a little awkward at first, spreading the lube and finding the right rhythm, but then things seemed to click as David groaned and clutched at his bicep.

“Harder.” David’s voice was high and breathy, and Patrick followed instructions, squeezing tighter. Patrick felt David’s hand move to the back of his head and then he was pulling him in for a kiss, open-mouthed and dirty. David’s hips pistoned and Patrick held his arm steady and let him fuck his fist. David became less coherent, less able to actively kiss Patrick back, panting into his mouth and it was sexy, it was beautiful, and in that moment Patrick had the wild and errant thought that he belonged here, that he’d belonged here for a long time and had just gotten lost somehow, but now he was found, now he was home.

“Fuck, Patrick, yes,” David gasped, continuing to say ‘yes’ over and over until Patrick felt the pulses of his orgasm. I did this for him, Patrick thought giddily. I made him come.

When David relaxed, Patrick gently let him go, collapsing on the pillows at his side. David was already reaching for the wipes again, grabbing Patrick by the wrist and cleaning him up before he did the same to himself, pulling his dirty t-shirt off and tossing it toward the hamper.

Patrick lay back and looked at David’s chest and how hairy it was compared to his own. He regretted that he was only just seeing it now.

“That was very nice,” David said as he pulled the covers over himself. “Thank you.”

Turning on his side, Patrick met David’s gaze. “I’m the one who should be saying ‘thank you.’”

David yawned, and then reached over and picked up his phone, doing something to turn off the lights. “Oh, are you okay sleeping here? If you’d rather go to the guest room, you can do that.”

“Are you okay with me sleeping here?” Patrick asked into the dark void. Uncertain what he’d do if David said no.

“It’s fine. Unless you snore.”

“I don’t,” Patrick said with a laugh.

“Okay, then.” David turned over, and Patrick could just make out the line of his bare back as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He felt the sudden urge to press himself against David, but even Patrick with his lack of one-night-stand experience knew that probably wouldn’t be welcome. He was just feeling vulnerable because such a momentous thing had happened, cracking him open in the bed of this stranger. Well, not stranger. Near-stranger who he’d seen naked and exchanged handjobs with.

As he drifted off to sleep, Patrick remembered the weird feeling of belonging he’d had a little while ago. Get a grip, Brewer, was his last conscious thought.

~*~

Patrick awoke still in darkness, and it took several seconds to remember where he was. What he’d done struck with renewed shock: meeting David, talking to him for hours at the bar, going home with him, kissing him, going to bed with him. Was this some temporary insanity, the kind of travel-inspired loneliness that made it easy to cry on airplanes? He rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, closing the door quietly and flipping on the light.

He looked at his own naked body, trying to see if it betrayed any sign of what he’d done. If he was a gay man, shouldn’t he look different somehow?

After relieving himself, he crept back out to the bedroom and gathered up his clothes and shoes from the floor, carrying them out to the living room where the windows let in more light. He pulled his clothes on quickly, checking the time on his phone. 6:23. Hopefully the ferries were running and it wouldn’t take too long to cross back over the river to Jersey.

He wanted to leave David a note, even started to look around for some paper and a pen, but what could he say that wouldn’t sound too flippant or too emotional about what had happened? For David, surely this was one of a hundred such hookups. A few months from now, Patrick would barely be a blip on his memory. Whereas for Patrick, it had been everything: a terrible betrayal, a rapturous awakening. A cataclysm in his life. He knew that no matter what happened, he’d never forget David Rose for as long as he lived.

Which is exactly what you don’t want to write in a note, he thought. Instead, he pulled out his wallet, took out one of the business cards, and left it on the kitchen island before he bundled up in his coat and walked out of the apartment.

Down on the sidewalk, Patrick looked up and down the street and then checked the map on his phone. Neither of the nearest ferry terminals were within walking distance so he needed a taxi, but there didn’t seem to be any on David’s street. He smirked, cursing all the movies he’d ever seen that made it seem like a New York taxi would be waiting wherever you needed one. There wasn’t any reason to have a ride-sharing app on his phone in Oak Grove, so he couldn’t summon an Uber.

A noise made him turn around. A woman was pushing a cart down the sidewalk toward him, and he assumed by the blankets and clothes he could see in the cart that she was homeless. He didn’t have any coins, but he thought he might have gotten a couple of American dollars when he’d bought a pretzel at the ferry terminal yesterday, so he reached for his wallet.

“You,” she said, stopping short.

“Hang on, I might have a dollar,” he said, shuffling past the Canadian bills in his wallet. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can catch a cab, would you?”

“You found him,” she said urgently, stepping away from her cart to come close to Patrick. He tried not to recoil. “Does that mean you feel it too? That this world is wrong?”

Oh, she had mental health problems, he thought, feeling a surge of sympathy. “You don’t know the half of it,” he tried to joke.

“So how do we get back?” She grabbed his arm, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

“Whoa, okay,” Patrick said, pulling his arm away and holding out the dollar bill. “I just need to know where to find a taxi.”

She squinted at him, took the dollar, and then jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “There’s usually a taxi near the bodega at the corner.”

“Thanks.” He walked quickly in that direction, but when he looked back a couple of times, she was still standing there and staring at him.

Chapter 5

[artificialqueens]

you and i– we’re defying gravity ch. 4 (scyvie) - amelieee

a/n:

h a h. it’s been a week, i’m so sorry for this late submission! i’ve been busy with school so from now on, the updates will be inconsistent!

special thanks to the scyvie discord for supporting me and my friend althea for betaing!

follow me @and-oddly-enough and reblogs + likes are appreciated!

word count: 8.2k

Last chapter: Brooke and Vanjie finally get together while Yvie realizes something important.

This chapter: Scarlet and Yvie share secrets, they finally become closer friends, and something goes down during Miss West’s class.

By the end of the party, despite their immense exhaustion from dancing endlessly, Yvie and Scarlet walked back to their dorm arm in arm with a jovial expression on their faces. If any student would witness this, they would think they were hallucinating since Yvie and Scarlet would never be seen enjoying each other’s company. But here they were, defying what everyone thinks as their friendship improves tenfold.

In front of Yvie, there Scarlet was: laughing and chatting with her comfortably. Yvie was so used to the cold and the hotheaded Scarlet that refused to touch her; it was quite overwhelming that Scarlet’s demeanor changed all of a sudden. Yvie knew that their acquaintanceship was eventually going to develop into something more—but she didn’t expect for it to happen so quickly. Despite how unfamiliar Yvie was with this certain kind of Scarlet, she thinks that… maybe she preferred this type of Scarlet.

This was the Scarlet Ra’jah, Shuga, and Vanjie talked about. To Yvie, she  thought their stories were merely fictional since Yvie never saw anything from Scarlet that would suggest their stories were true. She would always be some snobby, childish person who would find unique ways to insult Yvie at every chance she had. But her friends would always defend her, even if they agreed Scarlet was delusional to some degree. They say she is very friendly and open, always outgoing and able to make a conversation flow smoothly. They say she is charming and empathetic, always understanding how her friends’ feel so she can help give them the best advice possible. 

And now, she can somewhat see it.

“It’s— it’s a wand, Yvie, it’s not just, like, ‘no big deal’. It’s a fucking wand!” Scarlet says enthusiastically but Yvie shrugs. “How did Madame Visage even get a hand of it in such short notice? Does someone like, ship them out or does she—“

“She makes wands,” Yvie states, “I asked her to make one for you. The gem was an extra touch that turned out to look great,” Yvie said and Scarlet pouts at her. She still seems overly guilty that she received such an extravagant present from Yvie despite Yvie telling her that all was well.

“I have to make it up to you somehow— would you want, uhm, a free ticket to a musical? Or— or maybe we can go on a vacation trip together with the rest of the group—“

“Scar, it’s really fine! Don’t overthink it.”

“Yea but I can’t help it,” Scarlet says in a more serious tone, “I was—“ Scarlet gulps nervously, “I was rude to you. Actually, no, not just rude, I was deadbeat cruel. Like I— uhm,” Scarlet genuinely looked troubled as she tried to come up with what she wants to say. Yvie understands what message she was trying to conceive though. It was nice to finally have the opportunity for the both of them to come clean to one another, since they’ve been avoiding this for so long. 

“I think we should talk about this inside,” Yvie says as she jingles the key to their suite in between her fingers. Scarlet smiles as she lets Yvie run ahead to open the door to their place before Scarlet gets there. It was only a few steps away so it didn’t present much of a hassle. Yvie unlocks their suite easily and waits for Scarlet to arrive before they both proceed inside.

Immediately, Scarlet flops unto her bed. After the dance, Scarlet seemed to let herself be more loose than she was before. Again, Yvie admired this different side to Scarlet and wished to see it more, especially in public.

“I’m beat. But then again, the dance was so fun, so I guess I’m more satisfied about today than beat.” Scarlet says as she unsleeved the top of her catsuit, uncovering beads of sweat under the fabric. Yvie whistled as she realized how hot Scarlet’s outfit was, both in an attractive and heated sense. “Fuck this, you don’t mind if I take the top off for a while, right? I mean, you’ve seen me like this before,” Scarlet says as she slightly shimmies herself out of the top half of the catsuit, leaving her bra exposed to Yvie. Yvie, still not used to how fucking attracted she was to Scarlet, flusters intensely but manages to hide and mask it since Scarlet was too fixated on staring at their ceiling.

“I’m cool with it, don’t worry.” Yvie says as she takes her hat off and places it on one of the shelves she had above her bed. “But yea, the dance was fun. Except for the part where everyone stared at me but—it was fun.” Yvie says as she sits down on her bed while facing the exhausted redhead.

“Oh Oz, I don’t know why people stared at you like that. I mean, you just… walked in?” Scarlet says as she pushes herself up, “It was my fault, isn’t it? I— Yvie, can I confess something?” Scarlet asks and Yvie nods slowly, curious to what she has to say. 

In the process of discovering Scarlet’s new side, Yvie did notice one other thing. Genuinely, Scarlet seemed regretful for what she has done to Yvie for the past month. She appeared more vulnerable to Yvie which was something admirable coming from a person who Yvie thought was childish enough to never change her opinions on certain people.

“Let’s have a talk, okay? I want to have a talk— we need to settle things straight,” Scarlet says as she heaves herself up from the bed, sitting cross-legged on the sheets. Yvie hums as a reply as she adjusts her sitting position as well. “Y’know… I— who am I kidding— I’m sorry. For— for everything that I’ve done for the past month.” Scarlet says but her eyes were distracted, avoiding Yvie’s gaze. “I know I acted… really, really badly to you for a month and I know you probably won’t forgive me—“

“Of course I wou—“

“And—hold on, sorry, I’ll let everything out of my chest first—I promise to make up to you. Whatever you need. I just can’t believe that… that despite my terrible attitude, you still handled me well.”

Yvie purses her lips as she watch Scarlet at her most vulnerable, still unable to look at Yvie directly. Scarlet’s eyebrows were constantly furrowing as she kept looking at different things, the corners of her lips tilted downwards. Yvie reaches out and places her palm directly on top of Scarlet’s knee and in response, Scarlet looks up at Yvie with an expression mixed with sorrow and surprise. Yvie’s heart beats quickly as she and Scarlet exchange a long gaze— why did Scarlet have to be so damn admirable?

“H-hey, it’s fine.” Yvie says, managing to keep her composure, “To be fair, I insulted you a lot as well.”

“Yea but I told my— my followers about you. I don’t think I can ever take that  back without— without—“ Scarlet stops herself abruptly as she began fiddling with her bedsheets. “Nevermind I—“

“You can, uhm, say it. To me.” Yvie says in a means to sound comforting but Scarlet still remains reluctant, “Of course, if you don’t want, that’s fine—“

“I’m scared of what my followers would think of me if I tell them about you!” she exclaims, hands clenching her bedsheets as she does so. Scarlet still maintained her averted gaze as she winced, looking like she regrets what she just confessed. “Oh shit, wait, no, I didn’t mean to—“

“I think I get you,” Yvie interrupts her, making sure that Scarlet knew that she could trust Yvie wholeheartedly. Even if Scarlet was great when the subject at hand were the issues of other people, Scarlet wasn’t exactly eloquent when expressing her own struggles. But Yvie understands it, at least, since she has seen this issue occur in front of her own eyes. 

It was somewhere around two weeks ago when she saw discomfort in Scarlet’s eyes; as the attention she was getting seemed to get to her. There was constant flinching and reluctance that day that Yvie couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pity towards Scarlet, even if they didn’t get along by that time. From that day on, Yvie notices that indeed, Scarlet has built a façade that shielded her queerness from others in the hopes that she may receive more validation. There were some times where Scarlet slips up and accidentally says something that possibly displeased others. Yvie would notice a pulsating panic that Scarlet would try to contain. 

When Yvie started to grow closed to Scarlet’s small group of friends, this is when she really figured out what the issue was. Shuga spilled all of it to her and Yvie didn’t know she had a sympathetic heart up until that point. That’s when her bickering with Scarlet lessened— just because Yvie started to respect Scarlet as an individual rather than keep grinding her gears. Scarlet noticed the change and began growing with it, even if sometimes, a bit of rudeness could come out of her. 

And Yvie understands her entirely— oddballs always understand other oddballs. Scarlet would never admit she was a weirdo, but Yvie could sense it from her. With this, it was easy for Yvie to empathize with Scarlet, even if Scarlet’s hesitance never wavered.

“You don’t have to do that for me. These little chats at midnight is enough for me,” Yvie says with a smile, hoping her sharp teeth won’t translate  as something mischievous. “But does that mean I’m part of your little clique?”

Scarlet chuckles, “I think so, we just couldn’t seem to get rid of you.” Scarlet says and Yvie laughs dorkily, “But thanks gremlin, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Aw, I gave you a wand and now you’re all soft, how cute,” Yvie says and Scarlet blushes while laughing softly. 

“Hey— no! The wand just made me realize how much of a fucked up friend I am to you.”

“I guess the lesson for today is to give wands to people before they begin ruining your reputation.”

Scarlet pouts, “Hey, don’t joke about that,” Scarlet says with an awkward chuckle, “I said I was sorry and I really, hundred percent, swear to the Unnamed God, that I will make it up to you and I promise that I will be your true friend from now on, sounds good?”

“Hm, let’s do something then.” Yvie says and Scarlet quirks an eyebrow at her, “Share me a secret, I’ll tell you one back, and we promise not to tell anybody. And you have to go first since it’ll prove if you’re being honest,”

“What are we, some fucking grade-schoolers having a sleepover?”

“We both bicker like we’re children so yeah, sure, you can think of it like that,” Yvie remarks and Scarlet rolls her eyes jokingly as she huffs. 

“Fine, you’ve a point.” Scarlet says. Then, she begins to purse her lips as she ponders what she could confess to Yvie. It took a bit of humming and finger tapping until Scarlet found something to say, “Uhm, I, well, I’m getting to Ra’jah after we graduate…?” she says with a begrudging smile but Yvie slaps her knee softly, her eyes narrowing.

“That’s not a secret,” Yvie says grumpily, wishing to hear more than that. Scarlet childishly whines at her for that and began pondering about her “secret” even more. To motivate her, Yvie says, “I’ll tell you the secrets of the black vial—“ Yvie gestures to the black bottle next to the picture frame on her bedside table, “—and how I became like this if you tell me something about yourself,”

Scarlet’s eyes widen in curiosity, “I… Yvie, you’ve got some tough balls,” Scarlet says and Yvie shrugs with a half-smile, “What if I say… I were an oddball. Just like you. Is that… something?”

“I kinda sensed that from you.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll expound on that idea.” Scarlet says, her chipper tone decreasing, “Is it too bad for me to say that I’m sca—scared of criticism?” Scarlet says, her voice betraying her for a second. Her eyes wander off again as she began rambling, “I told this to the others but sometimes, I feel like my life depends on the validation from others. Especially from my followers,”

“Followers? More like assholes who think they own you,” Yvie remarks bitterly. Scarlet bites the inside of her cheek a bit as she shrugs, fearful to admit that her fans were awfully toxic.

“I can’t help it, Yves. I mean, I was pretty weird before I did all the theatre stuff and those were… dark times for me. No one really got me besides, y’know, Ra’jah and Shuga, but that’s about it. Gillikins are entitled assholes who just really like to judge whenever something’s different.” Scarlet gives an awkward laugh and Yvie agrees wordlessly, “I hid a lot, back then, and maybe still a bit now. I’m scared to hear that I’m terrible or disgusting just because I’m a little bit different. Kinda jealous of you though, since you kinda made it your brand without giving a fuck of what others think.”

“When you look like this for 18 years, you get used to it,” Yvie says, “What are you gonna do about them?”

“I… don’t know.” Scarlet says, “I’m scared of… what they’ll say. What they’ll spread.” Scarlet begins to shift her legs so she can hug them.

“But you do want to escape them, right?”

“Uhm, yea, something like that. I’m trying my best to let their words not affect me,” Scarlet says nervously, then shakes her head and waves her hand, “Enough about that though, that’s something to deal with for another day,” Scarlet says and brings back her wide smile. Yvie is almost startled by it since obviously, she’d love to help Scarlet tackle the issue at hand, but she was in no position to ask Scarlet to continue talking about something she’s uncomfortable with. Maybe if they got closer, Yvie could possibly, gradually, get her out of that toxic fanbase. “I think we made a promise?” Scarlet asks, really curious on what the black vial really entails.

“I guess… I guess you deserve to know.” Yvie says as she reaches for the black vial, thumbing its intricate design that was carved on the glass. It was sometime since she’s held it and it reminds her of the first time Nanny gave it to her. Nanny was a friend of her father’s who acted more of a parental figure to Brooke and Yvie than an aunt. Inside the black vial was some kind of… liquid that Yvie hasn’t identified yet. She was curious to what it was as a child and almost drank it until Nanny stopped her to. Yvie deduces that this could either be some alcoholic substance or perfume, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that her mom was attached to the vial and was something important to her. 

“Is it perfume?” asks Scarlet, narrowing her eyes as she watches the black liquid slosh inside the bottle, “Looks like oil. Like, the bad kind.”

“Uhm, I don’t know either. It’s from my mom so I decided to just keep it,” Yvie says as she lends the vial to Scarlet for her to observe, “I think it has something to do with how I look but it’s just a theory.”

“When I visited, I don’t recall seeing your mother,” Scarlet says, “I don’t know if it’s impolite but do you…?”

“No, she’s dead.” Yvie says with a hint of guilt. Yvie and her mom had somewhat of a relationship, something better than her relationship with her father, at least. She remembers that her mom was really the one who was comfortable touching Yvie like a normal child, and was the one who convinced her father that Yvie was as normal as any other baby. But Yvie remembers her reluctance at times— her mom would be frantic and disoriented sometimes, always looking like she had something to be stressed about. Yvie couldn’t really understand her mom thoroughly but she was thankful she acted the way she did— at least it was better than her father’s attitude.

“It was kinda my fault she died,” Yvie says and Scarlet looked up from the bottle in surprise.

“I don’t think it would be that bad.”

“Well, even if it wouldn’t be the case, I still made her life a living hell. If you had me as a baby, I think you would give up on me immediately,” 

Scarlet stops to visualize a baby Yvie, “That… were you born like—“ Scarlet gestures to Yvie, “Like this?”

“Yep, sadly. It caused my father to be super paranoid— like, they tried to get another baby so that the town would stop talking about me. My father would literally feed my mom milkflowers so their baby would be quote unquote “pure”.”

“That’s Brooke, right?”

“Mhm, it was Brooke. But y’know what happened. Her legs got all tangled. And when my mom gave birth to her, she died. So yea, it’s really my fault that all these tragedies happened.”

“But it wasn’t your fault you ended up this way—“

“I know but— who else is there to blame? I was literally a baby born with shark teeth who couldn’t be breast-fed because thought I would bite my mom’s nipple off. And— and growing up, I still acted like a terrible fucking person.” Yvie rambles and Scarlet’s face slightly scrunches up in concern. “And sometimes, on my bad days, if I’m outed for looking spooky, I usually feel horrible after it. Worse situation include Brooke looking embarrassed when I do something remotely weird. I just… hate it. I just hate this—“ Yvie says as she points to her face and hair, hoping Scarlet would understand her messy rambling.

“Don’t say that,” Scarlet says as she hops off her bed to approach Yvie. “You’re actually really gorgeous, it’s just that you don’t maintain it well,” Scarlet says as she begins removing the multiple pins and ponytails Yvie was using for her hair. Yvie freezes, flustering as Scarlet ran her hands through Yvie’s hair. “I can help you out—“

“Scarlet, I don’t really need that—“

“Your hair’s already down, let me do something about it,” Scarlet climbs on Yvie’s bed and kneels behind her. Yvie awkwardly purses her lips as Scarlet started to finger-comb Yvie’s dreadful hair, hoping she could smooth it out. “Dreads have a good look on you, ever tried ‘em?”

“Yea, but my father didn’t like them so I tried bringing my hair back to the way it was. Didn’t really work out that well.” Yvie replies as Scarlet painfully untangles multiple knots. “I know my hair’s a fucking mess but please be gentle to it—“ 

“Oh, of course, sorry,” Scarlet says as she grabs the ponytails again, “Have you ever tried using one bun? I think one bun will suit you a lot. I’d also recommend to keep your hair straight but it might take a month for it too entirely smoothen so… bun it is.” Scarlet says as she began tugging Yvie’s hair, curling it so it will form a bun on the center of her scalp. Scarlet also lets some stray strands of hair flow on the sides of her face to give it a fashionable look. After multiple trials of getting Yvie’s uncooperative hair to stick together, Scarlet finally manages to pull off the bun with eight pins and three ponytails.

“Perfect, this is perfect! Holy shit, Yves,” Scarlet says, astounded by her own work. Yvie doesn’t really know what she’s done until she looks at the mirror to her left. Yvie was hoping for the worst until she actually sees what Scarlet’s done— then she gasps. Her hair finally looked… likeable. The bun, even if it was humongous, made Yvie look cleaner and more pleasing. 

“Holy shit indeed,” Yvie replies, still stunned by how she looked, “What in the fuck, you are an actual sorcerer, what kind of magic did you use on my horrid hair?” Yvie asks and Scarlet giggles and shrugs.

“I combed your hair with my fingers. I don’t think you’ve ever heard what “combing” is,” Scarlet remarks and Yvie couldn’t really retort because she rarely ever combs. Additionally, her mouth was still agape as she tried to grasp wonderful her hair looked. 

“Y’know, I perhaps might be in the mood for a full blown transformation,” Scarlet adds and Yvie blinks, “Let me get my makeup— I think I can do something with that face of yours.”

“Wait— no, Scarlet, you already did my makeup before—“

“Shh, I wanna try some things out—“ Scarlet jumps off the bed excitedly as she rummages through her things to find her makeup collection. Most of the makeup she owns isn’t really used because Scarlet, believe it or not, simply does light makeup using the same five products over and over again. Yvie, on the other hand, doesn’t really wear makeup unless it’s a special occasion, like that dance party a while ago. Scarlet used some black lipstick and eyeshadow on her but it was not too heavy since Yvie refused to let Scarlet be late for her own party.

“Scarlet, it’s midnight, I’m gonna wash it off anyways—“

“I’m just practicing so you can be able to pull off a grand look tomorrow morning—“

“When did I agree to that? Scarlet don’t be—“ Yvie was interrupted by Scarlet pulling her and directing her to the chair in front of the vanity. Yvie couldn’t do much but allow Scarlet to have her fun because she sometimes forgets how her infatuation for her just lets Scarlet do whatever she wants. 

“Trust me— you trust me right, Yves?” Scarlet says as she sorts out her brushes and palettes.

Yvie gulps, “S-sure, I guess?”

“Okay then, lemme try something,” Scarlet begins to work soundlessly as Yvie closes her eyes. Scarlet worked softly, making sure she wouldn’t bruise Yvie’s face when she dabs her brush unto her cheeks and eyelids. Yvie doesn’t know what she’s applying but she does take a note off how much time Scarlet’s spending her time on her eyelids. She could also feel some light touches to the rest of her face and her neck.

“Last time I checked, I’m not Trixie Mattel, so don’t put too much makeup,” Yvie comments and Scarlet laughs.

“Yea, okay, but I promise just—“ she feels a brush lightly swipe on her cheeks, “—and done. Open your eyes,” Scarlet says with a hint of giddiness to her tone. Yvie opens her eyes and blinks a little, some of the power accidentally slipping into her lashes. When she gets them all out, though, she is able to see herself in the mirror.

Yvie looks unrecognizable. Besides the pupil-less eyeballs and the jagged streaks under on her eyebags, Yvie can tell that Scarlet did a good job on her makeup. Everything matched Yvie’s brand— the black pigment, the glossy, dark lipstick on her lips, and the little details of white to match her hair. 

Yvie sighs in marvel, “Wow,” she says, looking closer at herself in the mirror to check if she wasn’t hallucinating, “That’s amazing, Scar.”

“Oh, I know.” Scarlet replies pridefully, “But we have to get to the last step.” Scarlet says and Yvie groans, wondering what else could be added. Yvie already looked splendid but Scarlet thought it’d be a great idea to whip out her wand for— for something Yvie is unsure of.

“What else would you want to add?” Yvie asks, trying to keep her patience high. Yvie lays her left elbow on the vanity as she waits for Scarlet to explain what kind of unrealistic plan she had in mind.

“Your outfit. Your outfit could be a bit… better. Not that it isn’t good but I wanna make it have more… pizazz.” Scarlet says and Yvie doesn’t quite understand what she meant or why she’s using the wand to do all the work. Scarlet was too inexperienced to know how a wand functions yet she tries to use it anyways— Yvie thinks that despite how likeable she is, Scarlet was still a huge dumbass.

“You don’t know how wands work.” Yvie states the obvious but Scarlet shushes her as she moves her wand around. “Scarlet, wands are for sorcery, not fashion,”

“Hey, no, I’ve seen people in Emerald City use wands to design. And if they can do it, how hard could it be?” Scarlet says as she waves the wand around, hoping to stir some magic from the wand. 

“And if this goes horribly?”

“I’m sure you can help me out if it does.”

“No, as in, if the uni explodes? Doesn’t that mean Madame Visage is going to, y’know, get the wand back?” Yvie says and Scarlet suddenly lowers her wand in conflict, not wanting to risk messing up her spell. She grumbles as she gives in to not using the wand, going back to return it to its case. “Aw, don’t be all grumpy, I’ll let you design my dress if you at least attend one month’s worth of sorcery classes.”

Scarlet at least smiles at that, “I think I can work with that.” Then, out of nowhere, Scarlet seems to gain an idea. Rushing to open her drawer full of accessories, Scarlet rummages through her collection. Eventually, she grabs something from way deep in the drawer and holds it up triumphantly. Yvie gazes at what Scarlet had to offer— it was a black, rose clip the size of her palm. Despite not using a lot of floral patterns in her aesthetic, the black rose was something that Yvie thought was passable enough for herself to wear.

“Would you want to wear this tomorrow?” Scarlet asks as she approaches Yvie with the clip, holding it up to clip on her hair. Scarlet had to tiptoe a bit to reach Yvie as Yvie flushes when she realizes Scarlet was so close to reaching her face. After a few adjustments, Scarlet manages to keep the rose on Yvie’s hair, then backs away to look if it suits Yvie. Yvie pokes at the accessory for a few until she turns to the mirror to check if the black rose looked good on her. 

“I… sure.” Yvie says, examining her outfit as a whole. Scarlet definitely was an expert on fashion and design, as Yvie revelled in on how breathtaking she looked overall. “Thank you, Scar.” Yvie says and Scarlet beams from the thanks. “But I’m going to take a shower now, if you don’t mind,”

“Of course I don’t but promise me that you’ll let me help you get ready in the morning?”

Yvie huffs, “Fine.”

//

The murmurs around the class were unmissable as Yvie entered. Yvie already has emerging second thoughts as she entered, thinking whether she can run back to her room and lock herself in there for a month.

“You look fine,” Scarlet whispers, walking in with her usual smile and poise. Yvie knows that despite her joyful stature, Scarlet was just as nervous as Yvie as she’s never walked in class with her arms locked with Yvie’s before. This morning, Scarlet promised Yvie that she will start trying her best to stop letting her fans brainwash her into doing things she disliked. It was hard for her to execute all this but Yvie was glad that Scarlet was putting an effort.

“Holy shit,” Yvie hears Ra’jah whisper from her seat, “You’ve been Scarlet-ified,” Ra’jah states and laughs as Yvie and Scarlet went up to her. “What did you do?” Ra’jah asked Scarlet, still eyeing Yvie in disbelief.

“I taught Yvie what a brush was,” Scarlet says jokingly as she leans on Ra’jah’s desk. Yvie snorts at her. 

“Rude,” Yvie comments, “I don’t know why my hair never cooperates when I brush it and when Scarlet does, it just works with her. I don’t get it– it’s like magic.”

“Looks like I was truly destined to be a sorcerer.” Scarlet says poshly as she places a dramatic hand on her chest.

“Or maybe just a hairstyler.” Ra’jah comments and Scarlet makes a face at her as Yvie merely laughs.

With a loud bang, their conversation ends abruptly as Miss West enters the room with a frightened expression. Panickedly, she runs to her desk as everyone returns to their seats swiftly. “Good morning class, uh, oh Oz, but we have very little time this morning–” Miss West speaks and Yvie’s eyebrow creases as she observes how shaky and fearful Miss West was. Miss West almost trips on her way to the desk but makes it there successfully, her hands gripping the desk like her life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, class but this– this is my last day at Shiz.” Miss West starts and everyone stares at her in disbelief. Even Scarlet looked bewildered. Both Yvie and Scarlet exchange concerned glances. “I am… no longer permitted to teach. I just wanna thank all of you for your enthusiasm, your essays, your–”

Miss West’s speech was interrupted by Madame Visage strutting in the classroom, looking highly distressed. Miss West looks at her with such a forlorn look that it pains Yvie to merely watch all of this occur right in front of her. “Oh, my, uhm, I’ve to go, dear students, but never stop speaking out and always know that–”

Some other unknown figures step in the room, all of them in black suits and sunglasses. Whoever they are, Yvie didn’t trust them. Their suits literally screamed danger and Yvie was skeptic about Miss West’s statement. This was not some normal firing of a certain professor; this was something more than that. 

Madame Visage looks apologetic as the group of men began grabbing Miss West from her position, forcefully dragging her out the classroom. Some students couldn’t watch such a horrid act in front of them and some who did watched in terror. Even Madame Visage looked like she had no control of the situation despite most likely being the culprit behind this.

“Remember that they are not telling you the whole story! Remember that, remember it–” Miss West was completely pulled out of the room as she was forced to stop speaking. Every student then began whispering at one another, confused to what they had just witnessed. Yvie was the most livid person in the room, tempted to chase Miss West to check out what was actually going on.

“I didn’t dress up nicely to fucking witness Miss West being fired. What the fuck?” Yvie whispers to Scarlet and Ra’jah who both nod. They both seemed concerned and just as confused as everyone else was, not sure of what to make of this situation. Yvie turns away from her friends to stare at Madame Visage, “Well, aren’t you going to do something rather than stand there?” Yvie demands loudly as Madame Visage simply stood, looking remorseful.

“I’m sorry, Miss Yvie, there’s nothing we could do,” she says, sounding just as mournful as the rest. Then, she turns to gaze at the door, looking like she was expecting someone to come through again. Yvie follows her stare and there, someone else enters. They looked exactly like the other men who grabbed Miss West away but the only difference they had was that he was clutching something in his hand. Whatever was inside couldn’t stop mewling as if there was some kind of creature inside the thing.

“Hello class,” The man says, his voice scruffy. Yvie immediately wants him out of the campus. “I will be your new history teacher but I’ll discuss it in a more… different approach.” The man expresses an evil smirk and Yvie can feel her hand begin to vibrate. She tries repressing her powers but they seep out more and more as she watches the creep take over their class. 

As Madame Visage slowly exits the room unnoticed, the new professor makes his way to the desk. “Anyways, class, now that your… savage professor is gone, let me introduce to you a little something to start of our class.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but Miss West was not a savage,” Yvie says angrily as her new professor impolitely rolls his eyes back at her. 

“You students think you know everything, don’t you?” he retorts then pauses, trying to bring back a welcoming attitude. “Sorry, my bad, but back to our lesson at hand, I’m going to show you something… something interesting.”

“We don’t even know your name yet,” Yvie speaks again, ready to blast him into oblivion if he says anything more.

“I’ll get to it after the introduction, okay? Just be quiet,” he snarls. Yvie and Scarlet then look at each other again, both getting very irritated by the new professor. “Okay, students, but let me show you what I have under this tablecloth because I guarantee that you will be amazed—“ he says, dramatically lifting the black sheet to reveal what he has hidden inside.

Inside of the thing was a cage. Yvie immediately winces as she spots a lone Lion cub inside the cage, trembling immensely as he sees the crowd in front of him. “Come closer, students, he doesn’t bite.” the professor states as he beckons the students to gather around the cage. And of course, because of how stupid most of these students were, they decide to crowd the cage, not realizing how fearful the Lion cub looked. Even Ra’jah’s curiosity got the better of her, causing her to see what was going on as well. “See? This is what animals should all be like— illiterate and unable to speak.” he explains and Yvie has had enough of this creep.

“Scarlet,” Yvie says, “Scarlet, you promised that you’d do anything to make up for what you’ve done, right?”

“Uh, yes? Yvie, where are you going with this?”

“Grab the cage when everyone is pushed away. Got that?” Yvie says through gritted teeth as she begins to collect her powers. The aura around her darkens just like Scarlet’s dreadful expression. 

“Yvie, I know I said I would make up for everything but this—“

“Scarlet, please,” Yvie pleas with furrowed brows. Scarlet pauses, her lips thinning as she looks back and forth from the cage and to Yvie, “I can’t— I can’t hold it in anymore— just fucking run for it!” Yvie tells her through gritted teeth as she unleashes some kind of dark energy from her palms. This directly hits everyone in front of her, causing most of them to yelp as they begin floating. All of them panic as they lose control of their bodies, trying their best to lower even if all it did was make them spin mid-air. Scarlet, thankfully and obediently, ran for the cage with all the might her heels can deliver. She grabs the cage away from their deranged professor forcefully; Yvie has never seen Scarlet this courageous and powerful before.

“Yvie, I got the cub— where do we go?” Scarlet yells at her as she grasps Yvie’s wrist with her free hand. Yvie almost forgets how to speak when Scarlet pulled her out of the class but manages to focus before Scarlet could become more irritated with her.

“There’s a forest next to the campus, right? I heard it leads directly to an animal-centered village. We can, I dunno, let the cub free around that area—“

“I forget that you’re not much of a planner.” Scarlet murmurs, “But I guess that works. Go to the northern exit and we’ll get to it faster.” Scarlet instructs and Yvie follows, both of them running quickly towards the mentioned exit. 

With their running, they were able to make to the entrance to the forest in under ten minutes. There was a lot of professors and students they had to avoid but they managed to sneak past them thanks to Yvie utilizing her powers to create distractions. When they made it there, they weren’t so lucky with the weather. Above, grey clouds hovered, about to pour its rain in a few minutes. Both Yvie and Scarlet stopped to breathe for a moment, their running causing them to pant irregularly. Scarlet also noticed how the Lion cub kept squirming inside the cage either from fear or their need to escape. 

“I think it wants to—“ Scarlet pants again, “—to get out.” Scarlet finishes as she taps on the cage door. Yvie moves closer to Scarlet as she eyes the cage, trying to find out the state of the cub.

“Wanna try opening it a bit to check him out?” Yvie recommends and Scarlet pauses before she nods, holding the cage close to themselves. Scarlet twists the cage’s knob fearlessly, opening the door quite a bit. Immediately, the cub’s arm reaches out and scratches Scarlet’s hand, which makes her shut the door in panic. Fortunately, Scarlet’s intelligence pushed through and she managed to not drop the cage. She safely places the cage on the ground as she checks her newly forming wound.

“Shit,” Yvie murmurs, kneeling in front of Scarlet to see if the scratch looks awful, “Scarlet, you’re— you’re bleeding.” Yvie states as she analyzes the wound. The scratch wasn’t too intense— it only reached from the bottom of her index finger to her thumb. Because the cub was still pretty young, the claws weren’t as developed yet, hence the scratch wasn’t to deep. Unfortunately, it still bled, and it will definitely leave a scar once it heals.

“No shit,” Scarlet says, trying to stop herself from wincing. Yvie reaches for her pockets to find her handkerchief then dabs the cloth on Scarlet’s wound. They were silent as Yvie cleans up the wound. Though they look at peace, Yvie’s breathing intensified as if she didn’t stop running. Scarlet’s hand was in Yvie’s and their faces seemed too close to each other that Yvie couldn’t help but blush. Also, not to mention how they’re literally sitting on a field full of flowers. 

This situation screamed romantic in so many different levels.

“Is that okay?” Yvie eventually says as she wraps the handkerchief around Scarlet’s hand. Scarlet looked at impressed at the improvised bandage and nods. 

“Thanks, Yves,” Scarlet says, and no matter how many times she uses that nickname, Yvie’s heart still soars.

“No, I should thank you for coming with me.” Yvie replies, “You could’ve just walked away back there.” Yvie adds sincerely and it causes Scarlet to smile earnestly.

“Didn’t I tell you that I was going to make it up to you?” Scarlet says as she picks up the cage again, making sure the door was locked. “And just to prove that, I’m going to get this cub to safety–”

“What? On your own?” Yvie asks, giving Scarlet an incredulous look. “Don’t be ridiculous, I can go with you–”

“It’s just a small walk away, Yves, I’ll be fine.” Scarlet stands up and removes the pollen that stuck to her dress. “Just wait for me here just in case someone finds us.” Scarlet instructs her to do and runs off before Yvie could get to protest. Scarlet ascends into the forest as Yvie gazes at her longingly, slowly standing up from the awkward kneeling position she was in. 

Whatever that was, Yvie ws going to treasure forever. Yvie wasn’t used to this kind of fondness for someone. The one where even if their arms accidentally brush against one another, Yvie gains an overwhelming surge of glee and thrill that bursts within her. The kind where even if she merely smiled, Yvie feels completely drawn to her.

Yvie fiddles with her fingers, what has Scarlet Envy done to her?

But Yvie has to remember– Scarlet hasn’t done anything to her– rather, she hasn’t done anything for her. Scarlet being courteous and friendly isn’t in any means to make Yvie become enamored by her. Yvie holds her breath– she was so stupid for being this hopeful. She should’ve known not to wish for miracles especially with the life she lived through.

Nothing ever goes the way Yvie wants it to go. From her appearance alone, Yvie couldn’t achieve most of what she wants. Without her sister and her nanny, she wouldn’t be able to study, and if it weren’t for Vanjie being the rogue person that she is, Yvie wouldn’t even have friends. Everything Yvie gains in life always come from convenient accidents that she probably doesn’t deserve to happen.

Yvie already knew she shouldn’t wish. She shouldn’t even try wishing for anything– wishing will only hurt her more than she already feels.

And even if she did wish, Scarlet already picked someone else. Someone so likeable and enjoyable, very charismatic that every person who has talked to her immediately connects and lights up. Not to mention, that someone was incredibly gorgeous as well with her ravishing, purple locks and contagious grins of joy.

Yvie’s not that someone.

“Miss Oddly—fuck,” in the midst of Yvie’s self-deprecation, there entered Madame Visage, struggling to make her way to Yvie because of the field of flowers. The flowers didn’t seem to tolerate the headmistress’ long skirt, hence why she was having trouble making her way to Yvie. Yvie represses as a smirk as she watches the headmistress curse under her breath every time her feet get tangled into the flowers. “Yvie, my Oz, help a grandma out,” Madame Visage says as Yvie rushes to her before Madame Visage trips and stumbles.

“Are you here to suspend me?” asks Yvie as Madame Visage finally stops walking. Yvie and Madame Visage both have a close relationship ever since Yvie attended her first sorcery class. Even if the headmistress can be obnoxious at times, Madame Visage was very social and friendly with Yvie. The headmistress eventually earned the trust of Yvie, acting more like a familial figure to her than a professor. 

“What? Of course not, that’d be stupid,” Madame Visage replies, “However, seeing that you’re the reason I had to walk through this field of ungodly flowers, I’m highly considering it now,” she jokes as Yvie laughs.

“Sorry about that— Scarlet and I planned to head back anyways after she, uhm, releases the cub.” Yvie says and Madame Visage raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

“You actually stole the cub? That’s bold. Except for the part where you made everyone float and all.” Madame Visage remarks, “But I’m sorry we couldn’t do anything a while ago. It were the orders of… of the school’s… uhm, head.”

“There’s someone in a position higher than you?”

“Yep, they practically own the school. It’s confidential, though, so I can’t specifically say who it is. But they… they wanted us to hire this new teacher. I didn’t know much about them but I had to follow their orders anyways. I didn’t actually think they’d torture a cub— it disgusts me.”

“What did you do about them?”

“I—despite the orders of the main head—fired him. I didn’t like his attitude anyways so I fired him because of that.” Madame Visage says with a proud smirk and Yvie laughs, relieved that she wouldn’t have to see that freak ever again. But that still raises the question of where Miss West was.

“What about Miss West?” Yvie asks and Madame Visage’s smirk drops quickly, her expression becoming more grim and anxious, “Don’t tell me she’s not coming back,” 

“We can’t do anything about that, Yvie. I’ll still try my best to find someone who can replace her, though— and I promise they’d be a hundred percent better.” Madame Visage says and gives her a smile. Yvie purses her lips as she nods. Without a doubt, Yvie would absolutely want Miss West to return, yet she didn’t know how to inquire about it. Maybe she’ll try to visit her in her humble cottage a few minutes away from Shiz if she ever gets the chance.

“Oh, Yvie, I also have good news,” Madame Visage says as she shuffles through the things in her pocket to lift up a green envelope. As soon as Yvie saw the color of the envelope, Yvie immediately knew what the letter entails. “Yes, I know, it took a month but I finally got it—“

“Oh Madame, I… I can’t believe this,” Yvie eagerly snatches away the envelope, examining it further to double check if it was real. The envelope was laced with gold details and was sealed with a stamp with an intricate design on it. She didn’t understand too well on what the seal meant but she undoubtedly knew that this was the Wizard’s official seal. Of course, Yvie felt rejoiceful inside, but at the same time, a jeering voice whispered that she merely got this by pure coincidence. Nothing she gained was through her non-existent hard work— a lot of time, she was basically handed something just because. Yvie just couldn’t earn anything on her own, can she?

“I’m proud of ya, Yvie,” Madame Visage says, interrupting Yvie’s train of thought. Yvie looks up and blinks before leaping at her, giving her headmistress a heartfelt hug. Madame Visage almost stumbles at Yvie’s suddenness but hugs her back proudly. Yvie forgets how uplifting a hug can be— Yvie tends to forget about the euphoria of it because of how much she lacks it.

Then, Yvie feels something drip on her sleeves. Yvie lets go of Madame Visage as she stares at her sleeves. It was wet. Yvie then peers upwards as she watched the same rain clouds from earlier begin releasing its rain. It was a light drizzle at first, but with how grey the clouds were, it was definitely not going to stay as one for long.

“Yves! Yves I got the— oh shit,” Scarlet emerges from the forest, looking a little bit more haggard than usual. The cage was still in her hand but the cub was gone; it most likely ran away the moment Scarlet let her out. “Uhm, good— good morning, Madame, are we in trouble…?” Scarlet says, sounding too polite. She covers her head with her arms to avoid getting her dress wet.

“Yes… and no— wait, hold on,” Madame Visage raises her hand and snaps her fingers. In an instance, the rain clouds disperse magically while they whiten in color. The rain seems to evaporate as well, no longer inhabiting the clouds that were once grey. Both Yvie and Scarlet watch this magical display in awe, their eyes shifting from their headmistress and the clouds repeatedly. 

“How did you…?” Scarlet says, clearly impressed by the headmistress.

“Weather is my specialty,” Madame Visage says and winks, “Sorry I didn’t tell any of you sooner but just keep it a secret from the other students for now.” Madame Visage explains and both Scarlet and Yvie nod, “Now, let’s get going? I still have something tasked for the two of you.”

Madame Visage begins to walk back towards the school, managing to stumble a bit through the field, as Yvie and Scarlet trail behind. Scarlet immediately hooks her arm around Yvie’s like she always does and grins at her. After a short while, they made it back to the school grounds, thankful that they didn’t have to walk through any more greenery. 

“Uh, Madame, aren’t we supposed to have a sorcery class?” asks Scarlet as she kept dragging her heels into the ground to get rid of the dirt that was on her sole. 

“Well, you’re correct, and I’m sad that we have to introduce you to the class this way, but I hope you’re not forgetting that the students in Miss We— pardon, I mean the students in Class A are still, y’know, floating.” Madame Visage explains and Scarlet’s eyes widen immediately. “Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble or anything— there’s no rules in the book that goes against making students levitate,” Madame Visage chuckles, “But there is one for running away in the middle of classes while leaving the students in some kind of sticky situation. I’m afraid I have to give you a small… task to make up for it.”

“What is it?” Scarlet says softly, fearing she might be removed from the sorcery class.

“Firstly, we have to help the students down. That will be our lesson for sorcery. Secondly, I don’t want to punish you for this but I’m afraid I that they might think I have favoritism so I have to give you a task to fulfil. It’s simple, don’t worry— you just have to clean up after the Animals after they do their protests every other day. I need you to do this together for at least a month and everything else will be well,”

Scarlet and Yvie exchange glances. “That’s not… bad, actually. I expected much worse,” Scarlet says, “Thank you, Madame,” Scarlet adds politely.

“You’re welcome, ladies,” the headmistress replies as she turns right. They made their way to the classroom again and Yvie and Scarlet were both anxious to see their classmates again. Yvie knew that there was no turning back to what she did unless she undoes her magic. Scarlet was more unquestionably fearful because of the possible rumors to be spread about her but Yvie was still proud of her. 

Despite her anxiety, Scarlet stayed determined and walked into the classroom first— she definitely was not lying anymore about making it up to Yvie even if she had to ruin her reputation. And for Yvie, she trailed behind Scarlet as they walked in the classroom, ready to revert the magic Yvie released unto the room.

[mykidsgay]

Supporting Your Non-Binary Students with Pronoun Changes

“I'm a queer high school teacher, and one of my amazing students started using a new name and they/them pronouns at the end of last year. I helped them write a letter to all their teachers explaining this change, and they just confided in me that one of their teachers flat-out ignored the letter and is still using their old name and pronouns. I get the sense that the kid doesn't want to start a whole THING about it, but it obviously wears on them. What do I do?”

Question Submitted Anonymously Answered by Aly Massey

Aly Says:

Dear fellow queer high school teacher,

First of all, it sounds like you are a wonderful support for this student to have in school. That they trusted you enough to help them announce this major change to all teachers is a great sign, and it’s great to see you’re still looking out for them!

This is a tough spot to be in. We want to be supportive of our LGBTQ+ students, but balancing that support with maintaining their privacy, sense of safety, and comfort is a fine line to walk. It is incredibly frustrating when our colleagues don’t share that same commitment and may even actively oppose it—I feel for you.

That being said, it sounds like you are looking for a way to address the issue with the least amount of pressure and attention called to the student. With that in mind, I would try to consider some environmental factors before taking your next steps.

Do you know this other teacher well? Is this someone you feel comfortable talking to one-on-one? If so, that may be your best bet to start. This way, you don’t have to put the student under any extra pressure that they’re trying to avoid. While you may be steaming out the ears thinking about a teacher purposefully ignoring a student’s pronouns, it’s best to approach the situation calmly and openly for the sake of the student, and to avoid backlash on you both. Ask the teacher if they’re aware of the issue. Emphasize your concern for the wellbeing of the student as a means to connect with this teacher. Almost all educators care deeply about their students, whatever their personal beliefs are. If you can make this about giving a student the support they need to succeed, you may be able to find common ground. However, this is certainly not the only option. If you are at all uncomfortable with a one-on-one conversation, there are plenty of other ways to communicate.

Do you have other adult allies at the school to support you? Remember that you don’t have to do this alone. The stress of student support around sensitive issues can sometimes be isolating for teachers, but this job can be too much to take on solo. Are there other teachers/staff that you and/or the student trust to work on this issue together? Your guidance counselor(s) and/or social worker(s) can often be helpful in this avenue. Showing unified support amongst teachers to actively use the students’ correct pronouns and name can be a strong way to make this stubborn teacher feel the “peer pressure.”

Do you have support from the administration? Is this a topic you could bring up in a professional development or other meeting (without needing to call out the teacher specifically)? Perhaps you could suggest the idea for a workshop on why it is important to listen and respond positively to the needs of LGBTQ+ students. You could look no further than My Kid Is Gay, or venture out to the Gay, Lesbian & Straight Education Network (GLSEN) for resources on this kind of professional development. Whether or not this teacher becomes a full blue-pink-white flag-toting super ally is questionable, but pressure from administration and school culture can be a powerful tool.

Are there other students who want to participate in supporting this student/general inclusion policies? This could be an opportunity for interested students to take an active role in improving inclusivity in the school. If you have a GSA at your school, that could be a good place to start (and if you don’t, try starting one!). They could, for example, lead sessions in homerooms/advisory classes about the range of gender identities and why non-binary inclusion is important. The regular presence of student AND staff-supported LGBTQ+ learning sessions (including those specifically referencing pronouns) can help shift school culture and create an indirect pressure on this teacher to adjust their behavior. These sessions certainly do not have to mention the student specifically (though if said student would like to share a personal story that is obviously great!).

You can also show students resources for their workshops like those offered at GLSEN, stories of trans histories from the New York City Oral Trans History Project, the Education for Liberation Network, and (of course) Everyone Is Gay. Having a teacher to work as an advisor in this process is key, so be prepared to offer extra assistance if you go this route. This last suggestion is my personal favorite. Honestly I would argue that kids today have a better grasp on LGBTQ+ issues than most of their teachers, and yet their direct voices are one of the most underused resources in schools.

One thing I would note is that this work has to be continuous, it can’t just be a one and done lesson. But the good news is that this repeated involvement of students and staff can reshape norms in your school, pressuring people like this teacher to actually listen to students who make these requests (and hopefully to even create classrooms that don’t assume gender at all).

With that in mind, keep checking in with your student regularly. However this plays out, these insecurities at school can weigh heavily on LGBTQ+ students. Ensure that they have easy access to a supportive guidance counselor, and see if there are any resources outside the school in your area for LGBTQ+ youth (if there are any for non-binary students in particular, that’s even better!). Throughout this, they are the person that needs your support and care most. And remember to take care of yourself. Schools need more teachers like you willing to step into a sometimes awkward or uncomfortable zone to advocate for students.

***

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[jenniferrpovey]

Me again So I think I'm genderfluid, or agender, or genderqueer, or something else other than female but I'm bad at labels and really uncertain. Also I'm afraid of being wrong. My body type is really feminine sometimes I'm fine with it and other times I hate every curve. I don't really mind she/her pronouns but sometimes I feel like being called they/them would be better. I just don't know what to do. I have terrible anxiety. I don't want to inconvenience anyone. Any help you can offer? 2/2

That sounds suspiciously like genderfluid. One thing is: Don’t worry too much about labels. Some people are cats and like to jump in a box to be comfortable. Others don’t need that or feel the exact opposite, that having a label is limiting. (Which is one of the reasons I’m so adamant about letting people use queer).

My first suggestion is to find some genderfluid and genderqueer blogs to follow. I can’t immediately name some good ones, but there are people out there who are willing to admit it and may have some good ideas and help you define things better. And don’t be afraid of being wrong. Gender can change. I know people who transition later in life. I know people who go from male to gender fluid to female back to gender fluid to agender to who knows what. You are never wrong. If you appear to be “wrong” it’s because your gender is in flux. Some people’s gender is stable. Some people’s isn’t. Gender fluidity can be on a short cycle (”Boy” days and “girl” days) or it can be on one of years. Or both.

Now, it sounds like you’re flowing between female and “somewhere in the middle.” It might help the dysphoria you’re feeling to work out ways to present yourself as more or less feminine at times. If you decide to bind, please, please do so safely. Buy a real binder and avoid wearing it for more than 5-6 hours at a time, tops. (I’m assuming from the description of your feelings that you’re AFAB). Alternatively, you may find a flattening sports bra useful for those “I’m not a girl” days.

My final practical recommendation: It’s very hard for the people around you to keep track of a genderfluid person’s pronouns. Pronoun badges are your friend. It’s easier for you than having to explain your pronouns every day. I used to have a genderfluid friend who would chat with people on the internet and expect them to know whether they were having a boy day or a girl day and get mad about being misgendered. Don’t be that person. Somebody on Etsy is selling a pin with a little pointer on it that you can just change (it covers she, he, and they). I haven’t seen one in the flesh, but it has a lot of good reviews and while it’s a bit more expensive than some of the straight up pronoun pins, it means you’re less likely to go somewhere wearing the wrong one.

Good luck. I’m here to chat with...not today as I have a kindred meeting and am likely to be out pretty late...but while I don’t understand directly what you’re going through, I do know the entire “I’m this...no I’m that...grah...what am I...oh, right, that” process...us bi/pan types get that too. Some days I still want to go “Screw it, I’m queer.” Which is a perfectly fine answer too, if you can handle the idiots who think that it’s a slur nobody should be allowed to use.