#what world are people living in where they think butch=skinny

[sorin-sunchild]

The idea that trans men have a 'fantasy of never passing' is just so absurd.

I wish they would just pick a lane with it too. Are trans men only men and transitioning medically so they get the privilege of being men? Or are they just saying they're men whilst still wanting the privilege of looking and being treated like women? Why are we passing ideas of privilege back and forth like this anyway?

Honestly, the only fantasy here is the one these kind of people have where non-passing trans men are somehow treated better for looking like women/gnc women and are able to get away with being (trans)misogynistic if they do but at the same time get all the privilege of cis men for identifying as men.

No trans person wants to 'not pass' i.e be misgendered forever. However, for some trans people it's not desirable to ultra conform to their genders stereotypes, trans men and trans women and nonbinary people alike!

Would these same people accuse a masc trans girl of having a fantasy of not passing? You know what I don't want to know what vile ideas they'd have or the hypocrisy they'd show.

They honestly believe that passing is a choice but only when applied to trans men. That's because they think being masculine is easy and always gets you correctly gendered. So if you're not doing it, you must be 'after something', you must be trying to 'get the best of both worlds' or 'manipulate people' or some ulterior motive which isn't just...you want to but will never pass and have the right to not make medical changes to your body and dress how you want anyway.

Short hair and trousers don't make someone pass as a man if other features they have especially body shape and facial features are deemed feminine. This includes with cis people too. I know a AMAB genderfluid person who is no med and passes as a girl better than I passed as a man post T for years. But I know there's other trans girls and similar who went through hell to pass, are still trying to pass or will never pass. Almost like everyone is different and 'passing' is a vague nebulous concept that changes based on the perspective of the viewer.

Seriously though, I'm so tired of trans men being accused of not actually wanting to pass or not actually being trans. There's still people in this day and age claiming that all trans men just want to live out their fetish of being a skinny yaoi twink and aren't actually trans. Added to that are the accusations of being automatically abusers for being men. Added to that is the 'lost lesbians'/'you're just butches' idea which crops up whenever anything related to being AFAB and misgendered when you look masculine comes up. Added to that is that trans men are all brainwashed Autistic girls who are also brainwashing and grooming others. Added to that is the idea trans men are taking resources from trans women by just existing and wanting better lives.

Added to that is we're not even allowed to call any of this 'specific hatred directed at trans men for being trans and men' no matter the word at use because somehow that means we're transmisogynist even if we're talking about cis people.

We know there's older passing trans men. There's passing people of all genders everywhere. If you make accusations that trans men can seamlessly pass so if you don't it's a choice, of course it's going to be brought up that it's actually difficult for a lot of trans men and why. That's not intentionally ignoring when trans men pass. That's calling you up on your bullshit.

Speaking of Bad Takes Havers and Stupid Arguments, scrolled by one that was effectively "trans guys who talk about transandrophobia should instead practice posting pictures of older passing trans men but they won't because of their fantasies of never passing"

And like. First of all. I do that. I've posted multiple older, passing trans men. I talk about my trans guy friends who pass perfectly all the time? I pass like 80-90% of the time nowadays?

But I also know trans men- binary trans men who are absolutely putting in the effort to pass as binary cis men- who do not pass and have been on T for significantly longer than I have been. I've been on T for a year and a half and I pass fairly well nowadays. I have a friend who has been on T for over 10 years who does not. I had more beard and more growth and more masculine features and frame pre-T than he does 10 years on T, post-op, medically transitioning far younger than me. That's... honestly one of the points? Not everyone is so lucky.

And not everyone desires my outcome, and it's *weird* seeing this argument over and over because honestly it just sounds like transmedicalism. The only valid trans guys are the ones that are binary male and pass perfectly for cis and have been on T for years and have done every single surgery possible. Sorry but that's not a lot of people's realities, and it's just plain not feasible for many people either. We're just going to leave these people behind because their journey doesn't match ours??? Really???

It's so bizarre to see someone constantly going "skill issue" when faced with someone else who does not pass. Some people are never going to pass. It doesn't make them any less trans or any less of whatever gender they say they are. How can you call yourself part of the trans community when you're spitting on people less fortunate or with different priorities than you?

[theygender]

I've said this before but like. As a young butch who had the good fortune of being raised around older butch lesbians I will forever be dumbfounded that the popular perception most people have of butches is apparently "skinny 20-something with short hair and biceps." I mean don't get me wrong, I partially fit that stereotype myself. But I have never considered that to be the norm. All of the butch lesbians I grew up around were in their 40s, 50s, 60s, and built like a fucking freight train. And I don't just mean they had aesthetically sculpted muscles. True muscle strength requires body fat to support it (think bodybuilder vs strongman) and the lesbian community has historically celebrated the things that straight society finds "unattractive" about women's bodies anyways. The pinnacle of butchness has always specifically included fat mascs in my opinion, and it boggles my mind that when a lot of people think of the word "butch" they're thinking of like, Ruby Rose in OITNB and not a 40 year old lesbian with a dad bod who could carry all three of her kids at once if she felt like it

[thewritingstar]

Paper Hearts

Pairing: Buttercup x Butch (butchercup)

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls 

Note: This was a commission for the wonderful @over-under-through1​ This was super fun to do and even though I rewrote it over and over, I think this is the soft and sassy greens we all have been wanting. Thank you to miss grace for commissioning me!!! 

------

“Did you get the answer to problem six?” Blossom asked.

Butch moved his pen towards the problem and relized that he hadn’t even finished the two before it. His lab partner just gave him a disappointed glare before moving on to do it herself.

“You’re spacing out again Butch.” Blossom stated.

“I’m not spacing out.” He said without even giving her a glance.

“For starters you are doodling little hearts in green ink instead of finishing the problem.” Blossom pointed out.

He glanced at his marked up paper. Green ink lined the margins with little hearts that he subconsciously made and he tore it out of the notebook before flipping to a fresh page and jotting down the rest of the questions.

A small giggle came from the other side of the table and he looked to see the pink puff hiding the noise behind her hand.

“What's so funny?” He tried to give her a cold stare that would scare the average person but had no effect on her.

“I just think its funny how you are considered one of the toughest people on the planet and yet you can’t even ask a girl out.” She snickered as she scribbled down more answers flawlessly.

Butch rolled his eyes and grunted. The smirk displayed on the puffs face was making him see red and possibly attack that bow as if he were a bull in a ring. “I’m not a pussy if that's what you’re thinking Pink.” He sneered with little to no reaction from her. “I could easily ask out any chick I wanted. Piece of cake.”

Her pen was set down and she folded her arms. “Alright then, then do it.”

“Easy peasy.” He scoffed and looked around the library. Luckily for him all the libraries held a pleather of selection and he thanked college for the assortment. A few tables ahead of them was a girl. She was busy with her head in a book and he began to get up.

“That's not what I meant Butch.” Blossom said as she trapped his foot under her heel.

His butt plopped back into the chair. “You said ask a girl out, that's what I’m doing.”

The redhead raised her brow before leaning over and grabbing the crumpled paper from his bag, along with several other papers that had various hearts and doodles all made from green ink. A small tint of red dusted his cheeks as more and more papers came undone.

“Ask her out.” She pointed to the paper. “You might think you’re fooling everyone else but I know you have, dare I even say, the hots for my sister.”

His eyes widened at the statement. “Excuse me?” He scoffed before grabbing the papers back into the bag where they belonged. “I do not have a crush on your sister, let alone my best friend.”

Blossom leaned back in her chair and twirled a pen between her fingers. If there was one thing Blossom was good at besides being the leader of the most powerful group of superheroes and organizing homework, it was getting the truth.

His eyes matched against the pink gaze and he could feel the sweat on his forehead as she continued to size him up.

“Really?” She broke their staring match. “Alright then.” She went back to her chemistry lab.

“Okay fine.” He grunted. He looked around the room hoping that no one would hear them but luckily it was pretty empty during this time and no one had the luxury of super hearing like them. “I like her, so what?”

“Then ask her out.” Blossom said as if she had solved the biggest mystery in the world. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um she could say no and then it would ruin literally everything. Thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

She fell silent to that and they spent the next ten minutes on their lab assignment. He managed to get through another sheet of problems but the confession was still in the air.

“So you’re okay then?” Blossom finally spoke.

“Okay with what?”

“Just being her friend and not doing anything?”

He let out a sigh. “What if it messes everything up?” It was a fear he had since he discovered his true feelings about her. He valued her friendship more than anything else and he didn’t need his hormones running a good thing.

“What if it doesn’t?” She gave him an empathetic look. “You know I wouldn’t be saying anything if I didn’t think anything could happen. You’re not the only one who feels this way, that I am sure of.”

The thought of Buttercup possibly liking him back, even for a second made his heart race.

“I would just hate for you to realize that you lost something you could have had sooner. You always rush head first into things and live on the wild side, don’t hesitate with this.”

He would be lying if he didn’t think that they had gotten closer over the years, really close. They would sit with their shoulders touching during movies and even go as far as sharing a drink sometimes. He would lend her his jacket if it was cold and would make sure to walk her home from her night class even though he knew she could handle herself, he just really liked being around her.

There had been long nights spent staring at the ceiling until the sun would peak through the window as he thought about their dynamic changing. It changed for his brothers and both couples seemed to be destined pairs, so why not them? So what if he thought about holding her close or kissing her before classes. Maybe once in a while he wondered what it would be like to be her boyfriend and to love and cherish her without restraint.  

Blossom stood and began to put away the array of notes and books around the table.

“Study time isn’t over yet?” He said.

She laughed lightly before patting his shoulder. “There's other chemistry you can be focusing on right now. So don’t be a pussy.” And she left him alone at the table feeling flustered and red as her bow.

He stared at the clock on the wall. He had about two hours before the evening classes got out. His stomach twisted into small knots as he tried to shake this overwhelming feeling of doubt out of his head. Those thoughts were being pushed away as he grabbed his textbook and stack of notes and put them in his bag.

He took one look at the newest ink doodles before grabbing it and shoving the crumpled wad into his jacket pocket.

“Don’t be a pussy.” He muttered to himself before leaving.

----

The sun was starting to set as he paced in front of his mirror for the past hour. He had gotten into the shower, a warm one to suds up his hair and then immediately back in for a freezing cold one to clear his mind and tame his senses.

He faced the mirror, hair dripping slightly as he ignored the longer black bangs that he usually spiked up. His reflection looked scared and uncertain. He took in everything Blossom had said and she even texted him some more but even with her support, he felt dizzy and unsure.

He took in a deep breath trying to calm himself down and not freak out.

“Alright Butch this is easy. You’ve asked out so many chicks before. Granted you never really liked them as much as her because, well, it's Buttercup and no one is better than her.” he said a little too fast for his own liking. “This will be simple. Just look into her eyes. Those soft green eyes that remind you of green tea and matcha, which happens to be her favorite drinks of course.” He laughed to himself.

He relaxed a little before grabbing his comb and threading it through his hair. “Not to mention the way her eyes sparkle when she's fighting a monster or watching a scary movie. Well maybe not all of that, don’t scare her, dumb ass. Keep it simple and classy.”

The bathroom filled with the scent of pine as he sprayed his chest and threw on a plain black shirt and skinny jeans. “How’s this.” He flashed a grin at the mirror and made finger guns. “Let’s fuck.”

“That's terrible, do not say that!” Boomer called from the other side of the door making Butch slightly jump.

“Shut the fuck up Boomer!” He shouted before grabbing his jacket and flipping off his little brother who was laughing on the couch. Fuck super hearing.

“You got this bro!” The blond called after him and Butch only slammed the door shut and let out a sigh before walking outside.

--

The October air was cool this time of night. The only sound he could hear was the buzzing through his headphones and the thumping of his loud ass heartbeat. His back came to a tree that was just outside her last class of the night. He never truly understood why she wanted to take classes at night, let alone Friday night.

He shoved his hands in his pocket and felt the bunched up paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it. Some of the ink had smeared lightly but the hearts were still intact for the most part.

“Don’t be a pussy.” He whispered to himself. “But also don’t lose everything.”

He stared at the paper before taking the corners and ripping them up and tossing them in the trash can near him. A disgruntled sigh left his lips and he wished that the ground would open up into a vortex and swallow him whole, never to be heard of again.

His mind had been at full speed since the library and he wondered if he should even tell her. How do you be friends with someone for more than ten years and then all of sudden change that?

It should be easy but unlike his brothers and her sisters, they were not the soft and emotional pair. The sappy love songs were always skipped and romance movies turned to comedies with them. He didn’t even know if she would like a bouquet of flowers or just to punch him in the face. Even if he did ask her out, would she even believe him? Would he?

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and the class began to file out. He had made the decision to leave this conversation for another day, maybe try a romantic setting or something else.

“Sup dude.” Buttercup grinned at him as their fists collided for a fist bump.

“Sup.” He responded.

“Eh class was boring, just a lecture but what can ya do?” She laughed and they fell into a rhythm as they walked.

They talked aimlessly and even their causally conversation was making him shutter and wish for more.

“Hey do you wanna stop and get some coffee? Think I’m gonna stay up and finish some chem homework.” He nodded towards the cafe that was open at all hours. She looked towards him and nodded before a small breeze came and she felt the hair on her neck stand up as goose bumps kissed her skin.

The fabric of his jacket overlapped her shoulders. “You never wear a jacket dummy. Wait here and I’ll go get us some.”

“Thanks.” She said just loud enough to hear.

The cool air swirled around him as he opened the doors to the shop but he felt like he was in the pits of hell. He had been secretly sweating and felt gross knowing that he was so incredibly nervous and hoped that she couldn’t notice.

He walked outside, two cups in his hands, the warm liquid slightly burning his palms but in a relaxing way. He found her standing next to a bench, her eyes focused on something in her hand.

“Here you go-” Butch stopped as his gaze traveled to the piece of paper she was holding.

A corner of a paper with a green ink heart and the letter B + B scribble aimlessly inside. He thought he had thrown out all the paper but of course the universe had decided to go against his wishes.

She saw his eyes widened as she took the coffee before focusing on the heart again. “It's cute.” She said before meeting his gaze.

“That's nothing. Chemistry stuff.” He played it off and took a gulp of his coffee ignoring the fact that it was burning his throat.

She hummed and smiled before sitting on the bench. Luckily the place had thinned out and was practically empty except for the few students stopping to get caffeinated.

“Chemistry huh?”

“Yep.” he popped the P.

Buttercup chuckled softly before leaning her arm on the back of the bench and holding up the paper.

“So do you want me to ignore it or did you want to give your sweaty declaration?”

He gulped. “What do you want me to do?”

She sat for a moment looking at the paper.  

“Dealers choice.” Buttercup smiled before placing it in his hand.

Confidence had always been Butch’s strong suit. At the age of seven he had already built up a wall to counteract anything and anyone thrown his way. Being born as a villain to society meant he had to reinvent his title and he had done it so carefully. He was known to be the rowdy bad boy who could have the room's attention on him with a joke or even a wink.

Doubt was hardly in his ball park and he tended to act first, think later in every aspect of his life. The cockyness and the wittyness had always been there but he felt most like himself when those walls became transparent around her.

He could lie and say it's nothing and maybe a week or month would pass and the moment would spark and he would confess, however she looked like she was more than ready to accept whatever was to be said. Almost like she had been waiting for it.

“I would just hate for you to realize that you lost something you could have had sooner. You always rush head first into things and live on the wild side, don’t hesitate with this.”

Blossoms words played in his head like a broken stereo on repeat. He didn’t want to hesitate. He didn’t want to live with regrets. The butterflies in his stomach had died down slightly. Whatever speech he had planned in the bathroom was long gone. It would be best to speak from his heart than sound like some animated doll who only had five things to say.  

Butch curled his palm. “Alright then.” He said with confidence. He turned to match her stone cold gaze and tight smirk. They loved to play the stare game but right now he wanted to win this war. “Enough bullshit then.”

She tilted her head with interest as he begged for an ounce of confidence to come and rescue him so that he didn’t seem like a sweaty hormonal boy. A soft hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Butch.” She said softly. “Breath. It’s just me.” She winked.

And she was right. He gave her a nod and her hands went back to her lap.

“Buttercup, I spent the last hour trying to think of what to say to you. My head was filled with all these emotions of how I think you’re not only the hottest and coolest girl alive, but how you are my best friend. The thing is I was working myself up over nothing because we know that you like me and I like you.”

She hummed at the statement and took another sip of her coffee.

“Which is why a sappy declaration of why I think your eyes are stunning or how you have a nice ass will not do.”

“I do have a nice ass.” She smirked.

“Yeah well I like telling you that. So.” He held up the paper. “What do you say BC?”

She took the paper with a bright smile. “I think, ‘Wanna fuck?’ would have summed it up.” She said in a low tone mocking his voice.  

“Okay ya know what? Boomer yelled at me for that so I blame him.” They shared a laugh before she set her cup down and cupped his cheek with her hand.

“For the record I don’t mind the sappy shit, at least coming from you.”

He bent down until their noses bummed before tilting his head and capturing her lips slowly. He had always imagined that their first kiss would be ignited by passion or lust, maybe a near death situation. But this right here, sitting in a park on a cool autumn night while sipping on cheap and slightly burned coffee seemed to be just as perfect as the rest.

Her lips were soft to the touch and tasted like mint. The tips of her hair tickled his cheeks as another gust came and she leaned in closer to him. They pulled away and he got lost in her eyes momentarily as they held a spark that seemed new and inviting.

A small tinge of red was on her cheeks as she shifted her eyes towards the ground. “But for the record, we are going to fuck right?” She said.

A laugh escaped his lips. “Oh without a doubt.” He winked at her and flashed a smirk that she thought was charming.

She smiled before they grabbed their coffee and walked towards her apartment building. There was a comfortable silence between them and he was thankful for it. His eyes kept glancing towards her, trying not to get caught but he was taken away by her.

In all the years he had known her, she was seen as an ultimate force for battle. A hunger for justice was always present on her face during battle and a stronger punch would follow. He had seen it all. Her desire to save and fight for others. The media knew her for being dark and sassy, which was true but they also never thought she would be as soft and sweet as her sisters.

Moments like these where there was no one else around and the only sound was the leaves shaking in the wind is what he enjoyed. He got to see her in a light that she hid in the shadows.

Slowly he reached his hand towards hers, a slight hesitation on his part but he interlocked their fingers together and for some reason, it felt like the most natural thing he’s ever done.

She glanced at him, squeezing softly to let him know that it was okay to do.

“I just want you to know that I’m really into you, sappy and cute shit too. You’re always gonna be the toughest person in the world but I’m also gonna like seeing the sugar side of you.”

“Thanks Butch. I’m always gonna like seeing the puppy dog tail of you.” She teased and a fake scoff came from him.

“Wow.” He said dramatically. “That was a low blow and here I was trying to be nice but I see you’re still the same ass wipe as before.” They stared at each other before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

Her giggles came down and she nodded towards her room. “Let’s go watch a movie.” She tugged his hand.

He followed her up the apartment stairs to her room, he could barely contain the smile on his face. The doubt and hesitation was long gone as he kissed her some more that night. If there was one thing he loved more than laying next to her or having her snuggled up into his arms while a movie played, it was the fact that nothing between them had changed.

She was still his best friend who liked to place bets and challenge him to a round of video games. The same girl who could take anyone on for soccer or basketball and even the same girl who stood at city hall with a grin as blood dripped from her nose without a care in the world. She was everything from before and everything he had always wanted.

---

Five years later

“Can I ask you a question?” Butch said.

Buttercup looked up from the book she was reading. “Whats up?”

“Well in my class we were talking about belongings and our prized possessions. I said mine was my wedding ring because it reminds me of you.” He smiled as he glanced at the gold band. “So what would yours be?”

BC sat up and looked at her own ring. “I mean I would say my ring too but to be honest it's something you gave me a long time ago.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as she leaned over to her night stand and opened the drawer. She took out a small velvet box that her wedding ring came in.

“Thought you already said your ring.”

She rolled her eyes and no matter how much she did it, he would never get tired of it. “It's what's inside dumb ass.” The box was tossed on her bed and he took it and flipped the latch open.

“Holy shit.” He gasped as he saw the small piece of paper with the faded green inked heart. “I didn’t know you kept this.”

Buttercup shrugged before kissing his cheek. “I don’t know, it means a lot even if it's something simple. Made me realize that I wanted to be with you forever.”

The box was closed and set to the side before he went and kissed her. “I love you.” He said against her lips and she giggled before responding with “I love you too.”

--

I hope you enjoyed this and thank you again for trusting me to deliver the green goods. 

Also BIG thank you to my wonderful betas  @creativecilla @avesthetea @lisathefan

*My commissions are open*

[gandalfsbignaturals]

as a lesbian, i get sick at the thought of penis. a penis inside me freaks me out. seeing a penis during sex would freak me out. i get sick thinking about it. is it transphobic if i don’t want to date someone with a dick, woman or not? i hte feeling like a shitty person just because i don’t like penis, it’s bad enough i get homophobic comments about how i would like dick if i found the right man. i’m not asking to say you aren’t a woman or a lesbian because you are, but i want to hear ur opinion

its not transphobic to not like dicks. genital preference is a thing, and on top of that a lot of lesbians (and a lot of women in general) have trauma relating to penises. both of these things are fine. additionally, someone doesnt have to have a penis to be a trans woman. intersex trans women and post op trans women exist. additionally, theres plenty of trans women with penises who wouldnt ever want to have sex using it--theyd be happy not to have you see it, touch it, or even think about it during sex.

the issue is not "youre transphobic if you dont want to have sex with girls who have penises." the issue is "youre transphobic if you want to exclude trans women from womens spaces and lgbt spaces, or if you want to exclude lesbians who are attracted to trans women from lesbian spaces."

ive been living as a woman for years. i get treated like a woman in every aspect of my life, from looking for a job to walking to the grocery store. i get catcalled, i get called less capable, i get men talking over me, all the fucking time. and whats more, i also get shit for being trans from people who are lucky enough to have that information. saying i dont belong in womens spaces because whats under my skirt is different is just stupid, because every day of my life i experience what its like to be a woman. i dont have the exact same experiences as every single other woman, but neither does a woman of color, or an intersex woman, or a woman with pcos, or a dysphoric butch who presents masculine, or, or, or, the list goes on and on. womanhood is a diverse set of experiences. it doesnt just boil down to having a uterus.

additionally, no lesbian who finds me (or any other trans woman) attractive is less of a lesbian as a result. lesbians are attracted to women, and trans women are women. thus, loving trans women, loving our bodies, loving our personalities, loving us as women with our own set of unique experiences and difficulties navigating the world is all perfectly within the scope of lesbianism.

i kind of went off here, so sorry if you were looking for a short answer. ive got this ask a bunch of times and i feel like its kind of missing the point of the post i made, but i also sympathize and dont want u to feel like ur being a bad person for having trauma or preferences. i do think its important to think about where our preferences come from--plenty of people have "preferences" for skinny people, or white people, or insert other conventionally attractive trait here, and while having those preferences isnt itself bad, its important to examine them and try to understand where they come from.

tl;dr: you arent transphobic as long as you are being kind to trans women and not trying to exclude us from spaces we belong in.

[shakespeareintellectualbadass]

http://andthenshesaid.co.uk/expertsofourownexperience/queer

Feels weird to advertise a blog on a blog, but I'm writing a series called Experts of Our Own Experience around pieces of my personal experience of life - being neurodivergent, dealing with depression and anxiety and an eating disorder, and most recently, being visibly queer for the first time in my life. I've learned more about myself from hearing others talk about their experiences, and I'm a big believer in learning about experiences other than your own, so whether any of these things apply to you or not, maybe you'll find something connective.

If you're interested, check it out, lmk if you have thoughts ✌

I’ve known I’m not straight since I was seventeen.

I went to all-girls school for fourteen years, from age four to eighteen. All my friends were female until I got to college. For most of my youth I was more consumed by the romantic stories my imagination conjured up, and generally those stories starred princes rather than princesses. I never spent any time overanalyzing it because it never felt wrong, to imagine either but focus more on boys.

And yeah, I’m definitely attracted to men. I obsessed over the boys we met at parties in high school like my friends did. I enjoy flirting with and dating men (most of the time…). I have a longstanding, embarrassingly strong celebrity crush on Jensen Ackles (like full blush, swooping in my stomach listening to him sing or when he winks at the camera). I remember one particular boy who my best friend and I fought over for about an hour at a friend’s quinceañera freshman year (that might be the most heated fight we’ve ever had and we’d only met him at that party, which is ridiculous). I also had really intense female friendships I didn’t think anything of. With the benefit of hindsight, I can see how those friendships with girls I liked and admired - the really earnest ones where I’d go out of my way to do things for them and be around them because I just really want her to want to be my friend - were actually crushes. I’m a people pleaser (with people I care about anyway), but I recognize that higher intensity now that I’ve been through more serious relationships. Definitely bisexual.

It clicked in the autumn of senior year, when I fell for one of my friends from school. We spent a few months pining and then dated for about half a year (though we were both dealing with shitty mental health struggles at the time and were overall not very good for each other) and broke up right before I graduated. All our friends knew we were together, as did my family and probably hers and probably quite a few more people than we knew. What can I say, I’ve never been known for my subtlety, especially when romantic interest is involved.

But right now is the first time I’ve been obviously queer. Visibly, aesthetically queer in how I choose to present myself.

I’ve easily passed for straight all my life. I’ve had long hair and lengthened my eyelashes with coats of mascara, worn low cut tops and tall heels and tight jeans. I’ve flirted with men more than women and leaned into my soft, feminine energy more than my assertive, masculine energy.

But I’ve never had to adjust to being bisexual, to accept that about myself. I never worried about what my parents would think. I know I’m enormously lucky because of that. That said, there’s a difference between coming to terms with being bisexual and being comfortable presenting as queer. My parents are both artists; they both went to college for performance (acting for mum, singing for dad) and are wonderfully open minded and raised me with that same open-mindedness. I don’t think I ever actually came out to them. I could tell they knew about my interest in my high school girlfriend, so I just started talking about it, and that was that. My whole extended family is very accepting, and there are other LGBTQ+ members of the family. One of my cousins is trans and bi; we make a lot of jokes about being the gay cousin (“every family has a gay cousin; if yours doesn’t, you’re the gay cousin” “but if I’m the gay cousin, and you’re the gay cousin, who’s flying the plane?”). My dad’s mom and her partner have been affectionately dubbed The Grandmas for my whole life. Grandma Natalie is as much my grandparent as Grandma Gayle, though we’re not related by blood. I don’t know how many members of my family know I’m queer - I’ve never specifically come out to any of them either - but I don’t worry about it. It’ll become obvious at some point, or I’ll drop it in conversation like I do so often now.

It does vary, how out I am - in high school I was comfortable with it in my personal life, but I never considered joining the LGBTQ+ club - and it’s been different when I’m in a relationship. Both my long term boyfriends were queer/on the bisexuality spectrum, but we presented like a heterosexual couple so never had to worry about coming out. While my high school girlfriend and I weren’t subtle, we also weren’t fully out as a couple. Her family was religious and she was worried about their reaction. On top of that, we were both fairly femme, and in Catholic school the general assumption is that everyone is straight. When I got to college, I only dated men. Part of that was residual fear left over from how badly that high school relationship ended. Part of it was I went to a Catholic university (seriously, how did I spend eighteen years in Catholic institutions when I’ve never been Catholic). A lot of it was compulsive heterosexuality - something queer women fall into a lot because our society is set up with men as the be all and end all (“how could anyone not be attracted to men?” “Of course the ultimate happy ending is settling down with a man...”). A lot of it was how much more I was around men. For the first time, there was a lot of choice, which was an exciting prospect. Even when I wasn’t in a serious relationship, I tended to only focus on men as romantic prospects.

Again, with the benefit of hindsight, I can see how much I’ve been and still am guided by that ingrained need for male attention and validation. It’s also easier to pick up men than women - there’s no is she flirting or is she just friendly to deal with – because men and women are socialized so differently that men don’t usually gush and compliment women they’ve just met in the same way that women do. Maybe it’s just easier to assume men are flirting because of the stereotype that men always want to get laid. Maybe it’s scarier to flirt with women. Maybe both. It’s certainly possible that’s my own projection rather than fact. That said, I did once have a two hour conversation with a lady in a shop during which we effusively complimented each other multiple times, and I have no idea if she was flirting with me or if she was just nice. Girls in bar bathrooms consistently hype each other up without ever exchanging names. It’s wonderful, but it does make things a little foggy when one is trying to flirt with a lady.

Anyway - I was talking about being obviously queer for the first time. It’s odd because I’m very comfortable talking about being bisexual. I bring it up in conversation easily. I post about it for pride. I talk about it a lot on my podcast. I’ve been comfortable with it since I recognized it - I have a wonderfully supportive family, and accepting that part of myself came easily. Presenting it to the world aesthetically is different - more personal, more vulnerable. Even writing about it here, thinking of you reading this, I feel more shy than I would were we face to face. While I didn’t spend any time reassessing my personality when I realized I’m bi, I’m just now recognizing that I do have internalized biphobia and compulsive heterosexuality I need to work through. I think the difference right now is about presentation, that I’ve never felt like I looked bisexual. Which is silly, right? As much as we talk about gaydar and queer trends (bisexuals cuff their jeans, etc), both within the LGBTQ+ community and out, you can’t actually tell anyone’s sexual orientation from their appearance. Queer people just tend to be more adventurous with their self-expression, perhaps because they’ve spent time at one point or another repressing who they are. Perhaps there’s just a joy in exploring something different, that makes you stand out. I don’t know - that’s true for me, though I’m only just starting to experiment myself, and I’m sure it’s different for everyone. I certainly don’t know if I would experiment with my style in the same way if I was straight, having never been straight.

My style has slid less feminine during this year of lockdown. Part of it is that I’m rarely going anywhere, and when I am, I’m walking a lot, so sneakers are a must. I exercise a lot more now, so often when I leave the house, it’s for a workout in a park and I’m dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt. I’ve gravitated toward looser trousers for the last year and a half or so; after years of skinny jeans, I’m obsessed with how comfortable they are. Now that it’s winter, I’m more focused on being warm and comfy than being fashionable. Also, I sort of feel like any moment an apocalypse movie is going to start and I need to be dressed to live in the woods. This added up into a vibe more butch than I’m used to, but with my hair longer than it had been in years, I didn’t really notice.

And then I chopped all my hair off. Like actually all off. A full pixie cut, shorter than I’ve ever gone.

Leading up to it, I guessed I was going to want to lean more into feminine fashion again to balance the cropped cut. I like being feminine and I’m in no hurry to give it up. I planned to pull out my comfy knit pencil skirts and my heeled ankle boots. I expected to forget about my new habit of dressing like I live in the woods. That hasn’t really happened. I’ve still been dressing for comfort, and my style choices have gravitated more toward sweater vests and flare trousers. Both Harry Styles and Phoebe Waller-Bridge in the “Golden” music video. The other day I caught sight of myself in a window and needed a moment to recognize myself: the combination of loose jeans, sweatshirt, raincoat, sneakers, and short hair just didn’t feel like the me I remembered. I looked at myself and didn’t see the femme, straight passing person I’ve looked like for most of my adult life. Let me be clear - I am by no means saying that looking obviously queer is a bad thing. It’s new to me, but I’m rediscovering myself.  I still saw me - and that’s key, that this haircut has always felt like me - but a different me than I’m used to seeing in the mirror.

I have a lot of affection for this new aesthetically masculine and feminine mix, and the other day, stuck in the house at the beginning of lockdown no.3, I felt the urge to dress up a little. I put on lipstick for the first time since May, pulled out a plunge bodysuit and a pair of one-of-a-kind flare jeans I found in a vintage shop on Brick Lane the other week (looser jeans are a masculine leaning I’m embracing wholeheartedly). I decked out my fingers in rings and pulled out my wire-rimmed blue light glasses (my eyesight is so bad that my actual glasses look like something from the wardrobe of a nerd from a 1980s movie, so I stick with contacts). I snapped this photo, just to see the full effect as I no longer have a full-length mirror, and - bam.

I love how I look. I’m obsessed with my hair, with the bright red lines of the bodysuit (and isn’t me in a bright color shocking enough!). I love the jeans, love that they’re a little too big in the waist and just keep flowing out from there, a feminine line in a masculine fabric. I love the wire rim glasses (even if I do look like my dad in the 80s). I love the muscle I can see in my arms from months of pushups and calisthenics. I love how much space I take up, both physically and just in my presence. I am feminine and masculine. I am impossible to miss. Once, even a year ago, that would’ve been stressful. Now, I feel like shouting from the rooftops. This is me.

It’s gone up on Instagram. It’s my new profile picture on various apps. The only caption has been a peace sign emoji - a joke within the LGBTQ+ community about how bisexual people never know what to do with our hands (“point a camera at a bisexual and see how long it takes them to flash a peace sign or finger guns”). It’s a very different vibe from my last profile photo - almost two years ago I smiled at my friend behind the camera from a flowering yellow bush as I watched my last relationship coming to an end.

I keep coming back to how much it is different. This is a change - not of who I am, but of how I reflect it to the world. Proud and excited as I am, and as much as I want to care only for what I think, the fear of rejection lingers. The fear that my friends’ love isn’t malleable and won’t fit this new me anymore. The yearning for the people I love and admire to be proud of me. And on top of that, I wonder how I am different, how my change in appearance reflects an inner shift. How it necessitates it. I’ve always felt the inner shone through to the outer - now that I’m changing the outer, does that come from a shift I’ve already made or is there one still to make? Do I have to act more queer because I look it? What do I feel I need to prove?

Maybe I’ve spoken so much and so easily about my sexuality because I knew it wasn’t visible. Now it’s far more clear, and I feel both more confident and shy. Who is this woman who wears red and casually takes up space? I know her, have seen her in flashes, but this is the first time she is stepping out so boldly. That’s it: I am bold in a way I haven’t felt before. I know, logically, that I have been (again, I’ve never been known for subtlety), but not so consciously. Not with so much intention behind my choice. Some boldness comes so easily I never think of it, but this - this was like bursting out of water for that first breath of air. Natural, intuitive, but not easy.

All this comes in the middle of a period of great change in my life. I’m moving back to my home country after living in London for almost three years, back to my parents’ house after living alone for a year during this pandemic. I’m reconsidering everything I want to spend the next few years doing, much less the rest of my life. I’m trying to figure out how to fund seeing the world and how to organize running a podcast with guests from everywhere I go. I’m consciously focusing on myself and what I want rather than delaying or sacrificing my goals for anybody else. I’m putting off putting down roots for a bit and relying on the knowledge my family is there to come back to. My future see-saws between the safety of family and the unquestionable boldness of adventure.

There is an apprehension that comes with change, an acknowledgment that I am growing and becoming something new, something that is always myself though I did not know it was there. It is freeing and exhilarating and terrifying, growing. Like jumping off a cliff, I have to squeeze my hands into fists and tighten my core and rely on the knowledge that the water below will catch me, that I will catch me, so that I can enjoy the fleeting moment of flying into something new.

[docholligay]

A little Love Story, Part Four: Prince Charming

Here it is, the final bit of the story commissioned by @keyofjetwolf!! It is all a subversion of the “love breaks the spell” stuff, making it delightfully friendship-based. this final bit is 2200 words, and the entire story is here, at 8,500 words. Thank you for reading and commenting! 

“No.” It was a simple as it was jarring, seeming to rattle the cave walls with its low rumble. 

Mina looked down at the girl below her, still on her knees, staring down at her sword, turning it in the dim light. 

“What did you say?”

“No.” Haruka tossed her sword to the side and glared up at Mina. “Just kill me then. I’m selfish, I don’t want to live with it. I--I’m gonna be selfish. I don’t always have to be the one who suffers. I was put here for other things, and not, not just to be miserable. You helped teach me that. You thought I was more than just a fucking...human shield.” 

Mina tilted her head a touch. “Then join me, Uranus.” She gave a few paces, never letting her eyes leave the soldier in front of her. “Moon only ever thinks you are good enough to die for her, but,” she smiled, “ you could live for me.” 

“No, not that either.” Haruka shook her head as she stumbled to her feet, brushing off her knees, “And you’re wrong.” 

Mina snorted. “You are stupid.” 

“Yep, I’ve always said so.” She removed her ring and tossed it into the dark, her transformation falling away, the soldier disappearing and leaving behind only a pleading butch woman, a little skinny and a bit too tall. No armor. No uniform. Only a pair of scuffed up jeans and a soft sweater she’d chosen that morning, careworn and much loved, her messy blonde hair free of a tiara. “You said I’m really eager to sacrifice myself. Well, this is a good thing to die for.” 

“So this is where you want to die.” Mina raised her sword, frustrated at her spoiled game. 

“No,” Haruka shook her head sadly, “It isn’t.” She smiled suddenly, and looked over to Mina, “Remember last time we went to karaoke at the old bar? We did Time of My Life, and you wanted me to do the lift? We still aren’t allowed back there. Like we’re the first people to break a table. I wish we were there, instead.” 

Mina closed her eyes for a moment, clearing the light and the smell of beer and the laughter from her mind. 

“Michiru left me, remember? And I was really pathetic, and you took care of me. It was this whole thing. But you fed me noodles and pizza, and,” she laughed “remember when we tried to kiss?”

Mina put the sword at her neck. “The kiss of death.” 

“No,” Haruka shook her head, refusing to notice the sword, “It was really really awkward though. You were smart. That wasn’t what I wanted. You were right about me, I had no wild oats to sow. God, do you--you were so mad at me when I died. She brought us back, and you were so mad--”

“You killed yourself.” She shook her head quickly. “Shut up, Uranus.”

“You were mad because you cared about me. Because we’re friends.” 

“You have always been,” Mina pressed the sword into her neck, and Haruka felt the blade press in, a thin line of blood streaming down the side, “a melodramatic, blustering, worthless, stupid creature.” 

“I guess.” Haruka chuckled, even as she shrank a little, “You’d get mad, if you heard someone else say that.” 

Mina held fast, but her blade did not go any further. “I would know. I was your leader.” 

“You’re my friend.” She nodded. “You’re my friend.” She looked up at the ceiling, just for a moment, and then smiled, nudging slightly against the cool metal, “Remember when you got into that big fight with your folks? Again? You came over to my house first. You knew I’d be there--” 

“BE. QUIET.” MIna’s muscles tensed, ready, and everything in her was telling her to finish through the slice, that it would be over in an instant and she would be down a senshi, continuing on her quest. Becoming the Princess. 

But her hand simply stayed, and Haruka simply spoke. 

“I hugged you. I said I’d be your family.” Haruka ruffled a hand through her hair. “C’mon kiddo, you don’t want to do this, or you’d have done it already. Come home with me. We’ll get beers, some takeout. You don’t have to talk to anyone else, if you don’t want.” 

Mina’s voice cracked, just slightly. “You want me to return to the shadows? To being only an accessory? To not mattering? Here--”

“Who said you didn’t matter? I know the world’s all big on Sailor Moon, I get that, we all do, I think. We all know what it’s like to be...you know, just something to the side. Usagi gets credit for everything, even when we’re the ones that get our asses beat.” 

Usagi winced in the darkness, and Rei held her tight, stopping her from crying out. 

Mina took her sword from Haruka’s throat, laid the point of it over her heart, and moved her mouth to answer, but Haruka continued. 

“But you matter to me.” She nodded, “A lot. You matter to more people than me, you know. But...I don’t really have a family. Don’t have a lot of friends. I have you, and I have Michiru. And if you’re not there, well, that’s fifty percent of the people in the world that care about me. Who really know me, and still like me.” She shrugged, “and you’ve always said I don’t have much in the way of coping skills. It’s true.” 

Michiru waited in the darkness, a sense of profound sadness coming over her. Haruka’s sense of self-regard had never been particularly strong--Mina had been cruel, but not inaccurate, when she said Haruka was looking for something to die for--but sometimes that thought came crashing back to Michiru’s doorstep, and she felt it so keenly that she thought she might die of it. Haruka believed that Mina was one of two people who loved her, and that made everything worth it. She could not see that Usagi loved her, and even Rei, in her way, seemed to struggle with the idea that they were simply going to let Haruka go to her death. 

But Haruka could not see, because Haruka saw mostly a mirror on herself in other people’s eyes, and it only reflected the words her mind spit at her in the night. 

Haruka’s voice turned her from her thoughts. 

“You’re a lot better than me at words and feelings and stuff,” she nodded to Mina, “This is usually where you say, ‘low bar’, you know.” She shuffled. “But, I’m not going to hurt you, Mina. It used to be I thought I had to do that stuff. But I don’t. Not always. We’ve been through a lot together, and if it’s gonna end, it’ll be you,” she nodded again, and looked at Mina, grey eyes glimmering in the dim light,” It’s okay if you kill me. It’s okay, Mina. I won’t hurt you, though.” 

Mina’s eyes narrowed, but her arm shook, ever so slightly. “You--” 

“I love you, Mina.” She said it plainly, but with the full strength of her voice. She did not let her timbre waver, and the same shake seemed to come from the walls, echoing the plain honesty of her own feelings that came more difficult than death to Haruka. 

There was something far off, in Mina’s mind, that seemed to snap, and for just one instead, the gauze curtain cast over her thoughts fell, and the clang seemed to echo for miles as Mina faltered, and dropped her sword. 

Haruka, in an instant, reached out and took her by the wrist, and pulled her in close. Mina struggled against her, howling for a moment as the spell attempted to stay, attempted to fight, but Haruka only held her tighter. 

“I love you.” she whispered into Mina’s ear. “I love you, Mina.” 

And then, the last bit of Metallia’s strength fell away from Mina’s mind, and she wrapped her arms tightly around Haruka, sobbing into her shoulder. Her legs collapsed beneath her, and Haruka went to the ground with her. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sniffling, into her right ear, “I just wanted--”

“It’s okay, Mina,” Haruka patted her back, “it’s okay. You’re special. You’re really special, to a lot of people. But,” Haruka began to cry along with her, no longer caring if anyone saw, “especially to me.” 

“Oh Ruka,” Mina drew her hand away from Haruka’s back and rubbed her fingers together, feeling the blood, “I hurt you.” 

“Naw, not really.” Haruka shook her head, trying to ignore the pain and make it true. Mina had a bad enough day. 

“I ruined your sweater,” Mina pulled away and looked at her, the notch at her neck still streaming a little bit of blood. “And it’s one of the few things you bought yourself that’s not unspeakably horrifying.” 

“There you are,” Haruka laughed, and then hugged her again, “We did it. It’s okay now.” 

There was a collective sigh of relief from the bit of stones and cave drippings that concealed the other senshi, transformed and ready to attack whenever it was deemed necessary, but Rei halted their celebration. 

“Sailor Moon,” Rei held her arm, as Usagi went to dash toward Mina and Haruka, “I think you should let them be alone.” 

It was said without so much as a spark of anger, and so it touched on Usagi’s heart all the more, and she stepped back. 

Michiru watched on, her dagger slipping back into its sheath, a wave crashing on her, telling her that not everything in the future was assured, that there was still magic in this world that Michiru did not understand, that Haruka was a master of her own sort of earthy powers, the same ones that had drawn Michiru toward the light. 

Michiru had been wrong to doubt her. But the anger, the desire to kill someone, still lingered. Judging by Mako’s balled fists, it seemed she wasn’t the only one who had been gearing up for something that had fizzled in the most beautiful way. 

“Mars?” She said, with a gentle lilt in her voice. 

“Neptune?” Rei replied, a hint of playfulness in the response. 

“As you are leader, I would do nothing but follow your orders, but if I may make a suggestion, I do rather think Metallia will not be expecting us.” She smiled her closed mouth smile, and inclined her head to Mako, “I mean to say that we might attack the throne.” 

Mako’s brow furrowed, and she crossed her arms, spear still in hand. ‘I know what you meant.” 

Rei thought for a moment, but there was never really any question. Much as Haruka had known that Mina would see her, Michiru knew all too well that if there was an opportunity to vent frustration and rage on a worthy target in the form of arrows and fire, Rei Hino would be there. 

Rei threw her shoulders back, ready for her final act as temporary commander to be a bold one. “Neptune, you go across the back of the throne room. Stay in the shadows. Jupiter, I’m going to have you thunder through the front--” 

“Just how I like it!” Mako pumped the air, Michiru’s minor slight forgotten in the joy of it. 

“But BE READY. I’ll go in through the top, I think we can catch them by surprise.” She put her hands on her hips, satisfied. “This is a good plan.” 

Michiru breezed by, already listening to the song of her dagger as it unsheathed. “Venus did select you, always, for a reason.” 

Rei puffed her chest out and drew an arrow from the back of her quiver. “Let’s go.” 

Haruka and Mina sat quietly together on the damp floor of the cave as the Senshi’s boots padded away from them. Mina released her transformation, her blonde hair limp across her shoulders, leaning against her knees as Haruka rubbed a hand across her back, trying to adjust her shoulder to get away from the tearing pain of it.

Mina wiped her nose. “Ruka, I said really terri--”

“Forget about it, Mina.” Haruka shook her head. “It wasn’t you. Not really.” She flashed a smile over to Mina. “I know you don’t think I’m worthless.” 

Mina shook her head. “You’re a lot of things buddy, but worthless isn’t one of them.” 

Haruka struggled to her feet. “What do you say we get some pizza or something and go back to the house? I don’t think Michiru’ll be home for awhile, she just, you know, gives me that vibe. Just be you and me.” 

Mina looked up at her. “Thank you. For coming to save me.” 

Haruka shrugged. “I’m just dumb that way.” 

Mina popped up from the ground and stood next to her. “It was! You could have been killed!” She drew her arm around Haruka. “We all know I am a superior warrior, and I swear to GOD if you do that suicidal, self-sacrificing shit again, you won’t need to kill yourself, I’LL DO IT.”

“I mean, that’s basically what was happening here--”

“Don’t get smart with me, Tenoh!” 

There are old magics, in this world. Powers whose names are little known, little recognized, and flitter about the world like fireflies, lighting only in the darkest of moments. These powers are not the ones you hear of in songs or legends, and yet, for all their quietness, there is a strength in them. And, as Haruka and Mina, our own prince and princess of a kind, walked out of the cave, and into the light, one of the oldest magics tied a knot between them, and would not loose.

[emzymakesbelieve]

not to be fake deep but let's talk about all your old walt babies that you haven't mentioned (because i love the hainline's okay and you and all your kids and i miss you

Send me an old muse and I’ll gush about them.

oKAY SIT DOWN AND BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS.

(I love you, too, sweet pea.  *smooch*)

Frank Hainline

So Frank is a prick, to start off, but he’s my prick and you’re not allowed to trash talk him without my say so (which of course you have because he’s A PRICK).  He was the kind of kid who wore an anarchy symbol on his jacket but never actually did anything to represent or invoke anarchy.  He’s also a gigantic slut and can’t keep his pants zipped for longer than ten minutes.  Fidelity is not this man’s middle name (*CoUgH* illegitimate child he never knew about).  He definitely wasn’t ready to become a father when Victoria got pregnant (and more or less trapped him into marriage), but by the time baby Penelope came, he devoted every ounce of energy he could to making sure she had a good life, and the two of them actually grew very close.  He passed away from cancer when Penelope was about ten.

Norma Hainline

Penelope’s eldest.  The two most important things you need to know about Norma are that she’s a dancer and she’s gay as a maypole.  Her main focuses are tap and ballet.  She loves old Hollywood - she got her start watching Singin’ in the Rain and Fred & Ginger films - but definitely prefers to live in the here and now where she can express herself both as an artist and as a lesbian.  The dance world, much as she loves it, is a crusty old institution that needs to break some pointless rules and get over itself.  She is also Grade A Mom Friend Extraordinaire™.  Her love language is definitely acts of service, particularly making sure you’re eating and sleeping well and taking your medicine on time (though turns out she’s a terrible patient herself).  Much to her frustration, her two closet friends - Noah and Nick - are both more or less bent on self destruction and driving her completely bonkers, but she loves them just the same.

Francis Hainline

Francis, the third eldest, has no business being in this family with how shy he is, but nevertheless.  Definitely the black sheep of the family, but his siblings defend and support him with everything they have.  (Well, Kath usually does it with a lot of sarcasm, but you can tell she loves him.)  He’s a total hipster and has a special love for anything that was built before the year 2000.  His prize possession is an old camcorder that uses real VHS tapes, so naturally he becomes a film student.  I envision him growing up and working as a cinematographer and eventual director of poignant indie films and documentaries - stuff with lots of lingering, fly-on-the-wall shots.  Also, special shoutout to Seraphina, the love of his got dang life.  Those two gave me so many freaking cavities with their cuteness.

Kathleen Hainline

So Kath is a mess, but that’s just par for the course in this family, I suppose.  She’s the baby of the family and has always felt like she’s living in her sister Norma’s shadow.  She’s a bit of a wild child, but certainly not to the extent Victoria was.  It’s all just a cry for attention, trust me.  She wants to feel needed, she wants to feel wanted, she wants to feel special.  And anything that takes the attention of the people she loves off of her needs to die, plain and simple.  She’s best friends with Daisy and is technically endgame with Jonas (though we really didn’t get to write them that far), so here goes a prayer candle for my lovely Becca.

Dory Novak

As you can probably guess by the name, Dory is based on that delightful blue tang we know and love.  In the Walt universe, she developed her short term memory loss after an accident that killed her parents, and was adopted by Marlin.  She loves swimming and her family and especially anything combining the two.  She’s a freaking sweetheart who is actually pretty hard on herself, and it was so heartbreaking to play her in any kind of stressful situation because five minutes later she would still be freaked out by have no idea as to why (looking at you, Scream event).  Also, Scooby liked her a lot and I felt so freaking blessed???  She ends up becoming a social worker and helping kids in the foster system like her.

Charlie Harper & Jenny Harper née Parkington

I never got to properly play Dory’s parents, but here’s the fast and skinny on them.  Jenny was a shy bookworm who never thought boys would be interested in her and (for the most part) had made peace with that theory.  Charlie was a jock who was head over heels for Jenny but never knew how to communicate it without being a sleaze.  Eventually, he manages to ask her out, she says yes, and they pretty much become attached at the hip.  She comes to his basketball games and swim meets decked out in the school colors and cheering like a maniac.  My guess is Dory came a little earlier than they were expecting, but not so early that it would be considered scandalous - probably when they were almost finished with college or something.  Dory became their world and they spoiled that little girl beyond belief.  Unfortunately, both of them were killed in a car wreck when Dory was very little.

Marlene Novak

Dory’s first kid, adopted.  To sum it up nicely, Marlene’s a hot mess because she was never able to come to terms with the fact that her birth mother didn’t want her.  I tried to start this whole plot where she ran into her birth mother just out in the wild and that made her get even messier, but I think I was just throwing crap on the fire to see what blew up at that point.  She also has a…flirtatious arrangement, shall we say, with her friend Viv.

Lyle Novak

Dory’s second kid, also adopted.  *sigh*  Lyle, Lyle, Lyle…  He’s a cutie, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like I didn’t give his character enough punch?  He just seems kind of blah now that I look back at him.  I have a history of being super self conscious about my male characters if they don’t have like a Super Archetype personality for some freaking reason, and Lyle is definitely an example of that.  He’s a little shy, but not so shy that it’s endearing, and he’s also a little courageous, but not so courageous that he actually gets crap done.  He’s a little complacent, looking back on him, which is kind of the opposite of how I wanted to play him...?  I dunno.  Maybe I’m being too harsh on myself.  HE’S CUTE.  LIFE GOES ON.

Cinderella Tremaine

To the surprise of absolutely no one, I’ve actually played a Cinderella counterpart in a few different groups, but let’s just talk about how I portrayed her at Walt.  French transfer student in America (I changed her to straight up American after a point) who loves animals arguably more than life itself and tries her best not to cry over things she can’t control.  She’s also daydreamy as FRICK.  Loves to get lost in her own imagination.  If she’s not engaged in conversation or work of some kind, I can guarantee you her conscience isn’t even on this plane.  Also, can I just shriek about the superhero AU version of her where she was a counterpart to Zatanna and literally became her own fairy godmother?  Because I think about that far more than is probably healthy.

Emmett Tremaine & Johanna Tremaine née Cartier

Same thing as Dory’s parents, just gonna give you a quick lowdown.  Johanna came from a fairly well off family in France (distantly related to those guys, but far enough away that it doesn’t really count), but her parents thought she was an absolute embarrassment.  She was never afraid to speak her mind when it came to things like etiquette and politics, and she had a fabulously wild imagination.  She never stopped believing in fairies, ghosts, gremlins, things like that.  Emmett was that quiet nerd dreamer type, very much obsessed with travel and history.  And like I need to spell it out for you, but they were LUDICROUSLY in love with each other.  Like, nauseatingly so.

Robby Tremaine

Robby is Cindy’s son I whipped up real quick one next gen when I was going crazy and wanted to snatch Nick Robinson’s beautiful face.  He’s a hardcore farm boy who doesn’t mind a little mud behind his ears and super environmentally conscious.  Not just recycling and veganism and all that, but he will go off on you about sustainable farming and animal raising, and how the hydrogen fuel cell is the way of the future.

Taige Bailey

Based on Terk from Tarzan, Taige is a super jock, total butch lesbian, and altogether DUMBNUT.  Like, GOD she’s so stupid sometimes because she just barrels into crap with reckless abandon and doesn’t think things through.  Dear God, she will PUNCH you if you so much as look at her funny, just ‘cause she feels bored.  And she walks around like she’s God’s gift to creation, but she’s just a little twerp.  But she’s my twerp.  (Huh.  I’m just now realizing how similar Taige and Pen are.  In a weird way, Taige is like the tomboy version of Pen.)  Here, you can imagine me lighting a prayer candle because I never got to play her against her two best friends and I’m SAD.  Y’ALL NEVER GOT TO EXPERIENCE THE TOUR DE FORCE THAT IS T CUBED.  Also *cough* she and Vitani may have had a *coUGH* flirtationship.

I would also put Taige’s parents on this list, but they’re so hardly even developed that it’s not really worth mentioning them.  I only know their names: Lamarr and April.

Jared Bailey

Taige’s only child, Jared’s still trying to figure out what masculinity means to him, what with being raised by two women and all.  He can get a little “dudebro alpha male” sometimes, but he’s also that kid you definitely want to have your back when things get rough.  He’ll help you with your homework, teach you how to shoot a three-pointer, and walk you home when it’s dark like the gentleman he is.

[sunny-jac-blog]

This Is Where You Wanna Be (Carlwheeler)

it is almost 5 a.m. and i have not slept and instead i wrote this but it was WORTH IT!!! THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!! ft. Anne, Lettie, and Charity bein besties in a modern boarding school, Anne having Relationship Issues, and phillip and phineas loving their gals!!! this was requested from a great person on the TGS amino! hope yall like it!!

Word Count: 2.3k

_______________________________________________

Anne groaned as she stomped into the dorm room, barely casting a look at Lettie and Charity as she fell face first onto the hard, uncomfortable bed. The two other girls stopped their conversation, which was probably about how that Phineas Barnum from the boy's school across town had “eyes like a God” or something dumb like that. Anne didn't bother listening.

There were a few beats of silence, until Lettie slowly sat up from her lying position on Charity's bed. She crossed her arms and smirked, giggling softly as she stared at Anne. “Let me guess: It was that Carlyle boy, wasn't it?” She nudged Charity, who cooed.

Anne only groaned into her purple pillow. Of /course/ it was that Carlyle boy.

Since the two schools had had some dumb co-ed event held at one of the large local theaters, there had been a lot more intermingling with the boys and girls. The event was to push the students to broaden their horizons, some sort of college fair, where students could meet others and talk about their interests.

Anne was lucky enough to run into a cute guy named Phillip Carlyle, who reached for the same brochure that she did. What kind of cliche high school chick flick was she living? Especially since Phillip had been sneaking out to see her, despite her obvious attempts to get him to stop before he got in trouble. He never listened. And this time, he asked her out on a date.

She ran away.

As Anne sat up and hugged her pillow close to her chest, she let out a deep, dramatic sigh. She pulled her hair into a lopsided messy bun, looking at Lettie and Charity. “Why do boys have to be so complicated?” She asked with a frown.

She knew she could trust Lettie and Charity with her secrets. Charity, bless her, was an angel. She had a heart of gold and helped everyone she could, despite growing up in a rather snobbish family. She was trustworthy with relationship problems, as she had been dating her man candy, Phineas, since they were both thirteen years old. Now, at age nineteen, she was more than happy to help her roommate out of some boy trouble.

“Woah, woah- before you dump all of this on us, we need /backstory/, sweetie. What was he wearing? Was he nervous? What did he say?” Charity asked, straightening out her plaid skirt as she moved to sit on her knees. The school didn't have a very strict dress code, yet Charity always looked like she had walked out of any stereotypical movie.

“Uh-- Um, jeans, a maroon shirt, and… converse? Yeah. White converse. He was really fidgety and stuff, and he… He, uh… asked me to go see a movie with him. This weekend. Saturday.” Anne placed her hands on her lap, a soft blush rising to her cheeks.

Charity and Lettie both looked at each other, and let out the same high pitched squeal. “Aww, little miss forever lonely is going on a /date/! With a soccer player? He plays soccer, right? He looks like the kind of guy to play soccer,” Lettie chimed in, smiling wide. Lettie was much less proper than Charity. Though she was sometimes quiet and reserved, around her girls she took over the position of ringleader. She was a total badass in Anne's mind. She took no shit from anyone, and luckily lived in the room right across the hall from Charity and Anne.

“Hey, calm down! I-... I didn't say yes,” Anne admitted, rubbing her arm.

“You what?!” Charity yelled loudly, her eyes wide. “Anne, I-- How could you /not/ say yes?! He likes you so much and he's so sweet and Phineas says he's really kind for a rich kid, and--”

“I didn't say no, either…” Anne mumbled, rubbing her forehead. “He caught me by surprise and I- I ran away. I said, “Oh, what?” And I ran away.”

Lettie groaned, shaking her head. “My God, Anne, you screwed yourself over,” She huffed. “I mean, come on, even /I/ would say yes to that.”

“Are you saying Phillip looks like a girl?” Anne raised a brow.

“I mean, he does look kind of pretty sometimes,” Charity murmured, raising a brow and crossing his arms.

Anne only shook her head, gulping. “Okay- Yeah, okay. What should I do, then? He probably isn't here anymore, and he definitely won't come back after this…”

Charity thought for a moment, before grinning. “He's Phin's roommate! I can just have Phin tell him to come see you again!”

“Or, y'know, you could always sneak out yourself and go find your precious little Juliet,” Lettie shrugged. “Your call, Romeo.”

Anne bit her lip. Both options were tempting, she had to admit, but… She liked Lettie's plan more.

“Okay. Yeah. You two are going to help me sneak out, right after you help me with this freakin’ chemistry paper,” She muttered, grabbing her book bag off of the ground.

_______________________________________

The plan went into action the next night. Anne had worked extremely hard in all of her classes that day to ensure she wouldn't have any homework, and even had time to squeeze in a quick shower after her dance class, so she would be able to put all of her attention onto breaking out and finding Phillip.

After her afternoon classes were finished, she met with Charity and Lettie behind the school building. As she walked up, she couldn't help but see how badly Charity stuck out in their little group. Charity was wearing a blue summer dress with quarter sleeves and a pair of white ballet flats with blue polkadots. She glanced at Lettie, who was wearing something more… Lettie-ish. She was in a pair of blue skinny jeans, with a white t-shirt underneath. Her curly hair was pulled into a bun on top of her head, making sure her entire leather jacket was shown off to the world. To top it off, she completed the look with a pair of red converse.

When the two saw Anne, rather than have a look of giddy happiness, they shared an equal look of disgust. “Anne, sweetie, don't take this the wrong way, but are you really meeting up with your dream guy in… that?” Charity asked softly, glancing at Anne's purple, paint-stained t-shirt and black leggings, not to mention her no-makeup/bedhead.

“For once, I agree with Char. You look like a hobo, babe. Don't you have something sexier to put on?” Lettie raised a brow, but before Anne could say anything, Charity slapped her arm.

“Lettie! She is meeting up with a classy young man, not a hormone-driven twelve year old. She needs to look sophisticated!”

“Guys--”

“Charity, no, she should look hot and badass to impress him--”

“Uh, guys?”

“Oh, my God, not everyone is going to look like a badass butch when they meet the love of their life!”

“Come on, Anne could definitely pull off the badass butch look--”

“Guys!” Anne yelled, crossing her arms. “Can you quit it for a minute and actually /help/ me get ready, instead of arguing over what /my/ decision should be?” Charity and Lettie both sighed, but nodded. The three of them walked to their dorm, laughing away after the whole ordeal.

_______________________________________

It took the girls an hour and a half to finally get Anne ready. They started with hair and makeup. Lettie curled Anne's hair to perfection, leaving it looking both styled and natural, while Charity focused on giving Anne a natural, sweet makeup look. As most of the clothes she owned were sweatpants, hoodies, and t-shirts, Anne ended up borrowing clothes from the other two girls. She wore a pair of Charity's black skinny jeans with one of her white tank tops, and stole an oversized purple flannel from Lettie, who also gave her a few bracelets and a pair of earrings. She insisted on wearing her own black and white Adidas, and soon, she was ready to go out. She took her wallet, her ID, and her student pass, hugging each of the girls before walking out and down the hall.

Sneaking out was much easier than she anticipated, despite being caught. She simply told the principal that she was visiting her brother who had come to town. Which, it wasn't a complete lie- he /was/ in the city, but she had no intentions on seeing him this time.

_______________________________________

“Do you really think she's going to be able to do it?” Charity asked Lettie as they sat on the beds in the small dorm room.

Lettie shrugged, and smiled. “Come on, Char. Annie is a smart girl, she'll be fine.” She assured her, crossing her arms.

“I'm just a little worried, that's all… I've heard some people call Carlyle a bit of a scandal,” She said softly, frowning.

“Charity, do you really believe that?” Lettie raised a brow. “I mean, come on. They called me a bit of a scandal too,” She grinned.

“Speaking of scandal… How are you and that girl from your trig class?” Charity smirked, and Lettie instantly went red, smiling wide. It was nice to see Lettie so happy, and Charity knew that the new girl would take good care of her best friend.

_______________________________________

Anne reached the entrance of the boy's school after a thirty minute walk. She glanced around and quickly climbed the large gate, running toward the nearest building. Charity had said that Phineas and Phillip shared room 203 on the second floor, and from where she was sitting, Anne could see straight through the windows. She gulped as she saw the familiar face.

Phillip was sitting at a desk in their room, writing away. He was right in front of the window, and Anne could feel her heart flutter in her chest, though she would never admit it. She quickly ran to the side of the building, glancing around. She had taken gymnastics her entire life. She did arial yoga for fun. She and her brother would climb things all the time.

She wasn't surprised when she found herself scaling the building, stopping right next to Phillip's window. Really, it was too easy.

When she gently knocked on the glass, she heard a loud scream, and what appeared to be a loud crash. Her eyes went wide and she ducked her head, but slowly looked up when she heard the window open, a shocked phillip greeting her as he rubbed a red spot on his forehead. “Hiya, Carlyle… Mind if I come in?” She asked with a nervous grin.

Once inside, she was grateful that Phineas was nowhere to be seen. She looked around, tilting his head. One side of the room was extremely messy and untidy, while the other was neat, clean, and proper. She could tell from all of the literary quotes hanging on the walls that that side was Phillip's. She hesitated before climbing onto his bed, crossing her legs. “I, uh… I just came to apologize for yesterday,” She said as she glanced over at him.

For once, he was the one that looked bad during one of their meetings, but she still thought he looked gorgeous. He was shirtless and was wearing gray sweatpants, and looked like he hadn't slept at all. She noticed a few scars littering his chest and shoulders, but didn't mention it.

Phillip shook his head and ran his hand through his messy hair, gulping. “No, no- It's completely fine. Really. Don't worry about it.” He said with a rigid smile, crossing his arms as he leaned against the desk.

Anne bit her lip. She hesitated and glanced down, before rubbing her arm. “...I also snuck out of my school to come all the way here to tell you yes. I would love to go see a movie with you.”

At those words, Phillip's eyes widened. He gulped and smiled nervously, but after a moment he let out a soft chuckle, smiling wide as he tilted his head. “Really? You want to?” He asked softly.

“Of course I would. Just tell me when and where to meet ya, and I'll be there.” She smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed with her feet hanging off.

“Actually, let me pick you up. I have somewhere special in mind,” Phillip murmured, taking a few steps closer.

_______________________________________

Once again, Anne enlisted the help of Charity and Lettie to help her get ready for the date. She decided on something a little different, and Lettie did her hair and makeup this time, deciding to borrow a dress from Charity. The girls gushed over her, gave her a stereotypical first date parent speech, and sent her on her way. That night, Anne felt happier than she had in a long time.

That night, she and Phillip danced under the stars after the movie ended, her lavendar dress twirling around her as Phillip spun her around. Their night ended in a kiss, one of many more to come, but once she got back to the dorm, looking dopey and extremely happy, the night of gushing about Phillip had only begun.

Maybe coming to boarding school wasn't such a bad idea after all. After all, she had two amazingly great friends who helped her through all of her oblivious teen girl struggles, a new boy that was there for her whenever she needed him, and a great plan for her future. Anne finally felt like she belonged somewhere, both in a group hug with her two best friends, and in her loving boyfriend's arms.

[justwords]

In 2011 there was a documentary released called Craigslist Joe, where the titular everyman, a skinny White guy with curly brown hair and sad, trusting eyes traveled the country and tried to survive for one whole year entirely on the kindness of strangers that he finds on Craigslist. No money—no car—no friends—no plans—just a free simple-service website that promises an active community of random folks trying to connect. The film is a strange, low-budget social experiment that is often uncomfortable to watch. He shuffles from foot to foot, and flushes desperation-red and blanches embarrassment-pale, as he asks perfect strangers “for a place to crash.” But as is with most reality-based documentaries that follow the singular story of an individual that guides the viewer into an unfamiliar world, it is also deeply interesting, specifically peculiar, and (at some points) as heartbreaking and soul-soaring as any of the world’s greatest operas. As Craigslist says goodbye to its personal ads, and I lament the disappearance of one more sexual gray-space, I wonder where those people will go. With the closing of bathhouses across the country, the proliferation of consent conversations, and the obliteration of random, anonymous connections, I think these beautiful places that historically blended dark and light dichotomies will cease to exist. And as the kids these days say: “I find that problematic.” Because though Craigslist Joe is funny and cute and personable (and I want to kiss him….) the people he meets in these liminal spaces are mostly just lonely.

Some of us are so lonely.

“US Congress just passed HR 1865, “FOSTA”, seeking to subject websites to criminal and civil liability when third parties (users) misuse online personals unlawfully.

“Any tool or service can be misused. We can’t take such risk without jeopardizing all our other services, so we are regretfully taking Craigslist personals offline. Hopefully we can bring them back someday.

“To the millions of spouses, partners, and couples who met through Craigslist, we wish you every happiness!” —printed on the personals page

I once met a man on Craigslist whose eyes were as wide and drowning as the ocean, and whose hair was soft and sun-kissed like corn fields in summer. He was kind and sexy and articulate and butch: half-Black and half-Chinese and studying to be a doctor. He had a propensity for geek culture, and like me, the ability to laugh at the most inappropriate times. And every once in a while I would get a text from him that would ask me if I was available at a certain time and place. And though I do not know his name, or age, or where he lives, or how many children he has, or why he wants to be a doctor, or what nightmares plague his sleepless nights, little pink bubble hearts would appear around my face like a Japanese cartoon when he texted. And I would reply “Yes.” Or “I can be there by five.” Or because I’m a writer, and would eagerly be thinking of how the jigsaws of our bodies would fit, I would send him sixteen more texts that were curious and delightful ways of saying “I think you are swell.” And because he was not gay, and not male, and not female, and not great at lasting long, and not comfortable with discussing intimacies, and unclear about his place in the world, and not sure if he would be here in five years; and because he was unhappy with the curve of his hips, and not a writer, and probably married, he would respond with “Cool.” Because he had no words to fit how he felt in the world. But when we were together holding hands between my sheets, we were perfect. We would talk for hours: laughing and giggling and me kissing the curve of his thigh…until he remembered that he had to return to the real world; and had to go back to being whoever he is there.

And perhaps that is the silver lining…. As I bid farewell to my finely worded sex ad that asked for exactly what I wanted, and posted pictures of me in my best light, and that made disclosing my HIV status as easy as a click of a button, now we all have to learn to be who we are in the real world. And because some of us are so strange and lovely and perfect and broken and beautiful that we think there is no safe place for us but the Internet—and without these invisible hidden web spaces that help us break the laws of physics, form, and social constructs, we are forced to go outside. And God knows we all need more sunlight. And in the sunlight, perhaps we can connect.

Just connect.

Because some of us are so lonely.

But in this Brave New World, I dare you to look up from your phone, smile at a stranger, put words to the things you are feeling, and create something perfect. Personal and perfect.

Love and Light.

[lesbian-ed]

hey.. do you have any advice for dealing with dysphoria as a butch lesbian considering transitioning? thank you

Hey!

As someone who’s dealt with dysphoria, and who did identify as nonbinary for over three years... My advice is to please don’t give in. 

I know it’s really fucking difficult, and it sucks.

But it is so normal for women to hate their bodies, it is common place. And I wish it weren’t so, but we live in a society where women are objectified, and our value is defined by how good at being objectified we are. Butches, gender nonconforming women... We aren’t good at being objectified. 

We go against the flow, and that makes us into strangers to womanhood. 

But a woman is not a woman because of how she performs femininity, she is a woman because she was born female.

The trans movement is one born out of misogyny and homophobia. It was born to trick people like you and I into believing we’re not worthy of being women, that only skinny, feminine people can be women.

But let me tell you, a woman is born female. Your body is not some commodity, your body is not up for sale, your body is not something you own, it is something you are. 

And yeah, sometimes, we hate what we are, but that doesn’t mean we can chop it off and be done with it. If you lost a foot, that phantom limb would stick around until the end of you. Just as you appreciate your feet for the function they have, so should you learn to appreciate the rest of you, the parts of you that make you want to scream and run away from yourself.

I’m not saying any of it is going to be easy. But trust me, you don’t want to go down the road of self denial. I know living as you are has been tough, but living as you are not will only be tougher. You’ll have to deny yourself every single day, you’ll have to deny your biology every single day,  you’ll have to deny everything that has ever been a part of you, a part of how you grew into the person you are now.

I know being gnc is hellish, I know that we feel out of place. 

But please don’t give up on who you are, don’t allow the trans movement to tricking you into conversion therapy. As if it could make a “perfectly proper” straight man out of you.

Nothing about you is male, nothing about you is manly. You were born a woman, and it is hard to understand that when everything we like and everything we do is not seen as feminine, but feminine and womanly are two different things. 

Everything about your life from the moment you were born as a female, everything you’ve ever done and thought and said, everything about you is womanly, because you are a woman.

No amount of plastic surgery and medical intervention will change that. All that transition does to women is bury us under a shit load of bricks, under a bunch of lies. But at the end of the day your reality will always be your reality, and there’s no denying your body because you are your body.

If you think transitioning is the way to happiness, then you’ve been hearing the wrong side of the story. Reach out to detransitioned women, ask them how things were for them. Reach out to radical feminists, ask them about what the trans movement has been doing to lesbians. Please don’t let them take you.

Please surround yourself with people who can love you as you are. Surround yourself with lesbians, with women born women, with women who can teach you that there is extreme value in being who you are. 

I hope you’ll be okay. It saddens me to think we keep losing amazing butch lesbians to the trans movement. You have been such a strong woman so far, why would you want to deny your own story, to deny your whole being? Please think twice, thrice, fifty times before you many any harsh decisions about transitioning. 

For me, transitioning was like falling down an endless pit of self hatred, and it only worsened my dysphoria. Studies have proven that transitioning does not improve the mental health of those transitioning. In fact here’s a conclusion from a long-term follow up study in Sweden (not Sweden is one of the most gender neutral countries in the world, as well as one of the least homophobic countries) “Persons with transsexualism, after sex reassignment, have considerably higher risks for mortality, suicidal behaviour, and psychiatric morbidity than the general population. Our findings suggest that sex reassignment, although alleviating gender dysphoria, may not suffice as treatment for transsexualism, and should inspire improved psychiatric and somatic care after sex reassignment for this patient group.”(x)

Transitioning is like putting a band-aid on a gaping wound. It might hold things together for a while, but it’ll certainly not fix your mental health issues. One can never be happy while denying their whole selves. I learned this the hard way, and I hope you won’t have to as well.

Please take care, sister.

/Mod A

[rogerdvies]

beaters headcanon be like;

by @holy-snitch and @charlieweasey.

what everyone else sees us as: rough and tough, not the most brilliant of the bunch, don’t have two brain cells to rub together (besides the twins),  “fuck off”, brutes who do their fights with their fists and their bats and who like being physical and knocking others around, bullies, always sending people to the hospital wing, get pleasure out of hurting others, least wanted position on the team.

the shit we deal with on top of that: the boys deal with girls thinking they are just dumb tough brutes who aren’t good enough to get any other position on the team. the girls deal with: "are you SURE you can handle those bludgers? but you're so small!" or on the opposite side, "she's so butch i wouldn't want to date a girl who can hit harder than me.”

what we see our selves as: bad-ass kings/queens who are in control of our own lives, strong enough to hold our own in a game and in a fight, don’t need no protection thank you we can protect ourselves, able to take the pain of hard training, don’t whine about being sore, don’t complain or mention our hardships because we are pillars of strength, the protectors of our teams, everyone’s big sister/big brother, will defend our teams with our lives, fiercely loyal to our team members, thick enough skin not to let what others say about us bother us.

what we really are: different than what you think we are. some of us may be brilliant and some of us less so. some of us like hurting others and some of us don’t. but we are still extremely talented. and we have amazing reflexes.  

do you know how hard it is to actually figure out who you have to aim at? like, a good beater will be able to see the opposing chasers' plays before they happen so they have time to aim a bludger at a chaser who may not even have the quaffle yet to ruin a play that hasn’t happened yet like we have a lot of split-second decisions to make.

i mean if you aim at the chaser who is currently holding the quaffle without thinking about other plays that they might make you could end up hitting a bludger at a chaser who is passing -- wasting possession of a bludger and not doing anything useful at all.

we are not just in charge of “hurting” the other team -- hurting ?? we have a job (disrupt their plays, help our team win) and we strive to accomplish it.

we take pride in our title, even though it gets bashed.

we are also in charge of the protection of our team and we take our job seriously.

a good beater is an amazing multitasker with physical smarts: they have to protect their team and knock over the other team’s players so if us beaters are not champion multitaskers i don't know who is.

there’s two types of beaters: the loud feisty bold ones that people tend to pay more attention to with forceful force and elaborate strategies and flying techniques (@charlieweasey), and the strong and silent type (@holy-snitch) who attacks and swings the bludger stealthily and sneakily but has perfect aim and you’ll never see them coming.

we treat our bats like our babies; they are the piece of equipment that our position depends on, the piece of equipment that helps us do our job -- touch our bat without permission and walk away with a stern scolding or a black eye.

and god forbid we accidentally switch bats then it's a bad omen for the entire game -- unless we switch bats on purpose, then it’s good luck and team effort is going to beat the other team’s ass.

we mourn the breaking of our bats the same way a mother mourns the loss of their child.

don’t try to tell us that one bat is the same as another that’s the same as saying that draco malfoy and ginny weasley look identical.

our aesthetic: sharp eyeliner and smokey eyes, blood red lipstick and leather jackets, tight black skinny jeans and ripped t-shirts, pointed shoes, greaser-look, flyaway hair, wild eyes, late nights, black tea that is too hot and black coffee with no sweetner, flipping the world the bird, bats slung over shoulders, arms slung over shoulders, smirking at each other across the room, the loudest cheering voice on the field, early mornings, pull-up and push-up competitions for fun, sunsets and sunrises, passion, whispered promises, winks sent to fluster other people, loud laughter.

our early mornings: someone rolls off the bed, foots stuck out to nudge someone else awake, cold feet pressed into someone else’s warmer skin, the scent of steaming coffee and tea and fresh pastry rousing messy hair and blinking eyes, sleepy smiles and stumbling across cold floor, awake before everyone else, helping get the rest of the team up for early-morning drills, loud voice encouraging people to wake up, contagious energy.

our mid-days: beaters are the mother hens, older brothers, and older sisters of the whole team, but most pointedly the seekers. we will protect these teammates who have to focus on looking for a tiny flying golden ball in the middle of the air in a huge pitch at all costs. this protection extends to off the pitch: “did you eat? where are your robes? drink water please --” because it's our second nature to look after everyone, whether it’s on the pitch or not. 

our late-nights: beaters of all the houses get together to have giant cuddle puddles/late-night snacks in the hufflepuff dorm in front of the fireplace with lots of pillows and blankets and junk food because the hufflepuff house wouldn't mind people from all houses coming in and stealing the common room for a bit and we would complain about how sore our arms get from holding those bats all game and all practice and how sore our shoulders get from having to swing and the impact from the bludger to our bat and our arm and the bruises that we get when we miss or when the other team hits us and how we get a bad rep as brutes for essentially hitting people with things. back, shoulder, and arm massages, playful banter exchanged, playful shoving and pushing, we all support each other.

[aretherelesbians]

Are There Lesbians? Yes

What Happens? A Puerto Rican baby dyke from the Bronx gets to intern with her favourite feminist writer in Portland.

The Verdict: I got about two pages into this and realised I was completely in love. I have been annoyingly evangelical about it since I read the second sentence. The only reason I haven’t exploded about it on the instagram is because I don’t yet own a physical copy! So thanks to NetGalley for making it available to me I guess?

There are simply too many things to love about Juliet Takes a Breath so forgive me if I miss anything.

First of all, this is a very Latina book. If I think about it, I have a feeling that part of why I was reluctant to write this review is because this is not a book for skinny white girls who live half a world away from the Bronx. It is an unashamedly queer, Latina novel and yet… its that and yet… that gets to me, because even though on the outside i don’t have anything in common with the majority of the characters, being neither a hippy or a baby butch, their personalities and emotions resounded with me like nothing else. Particularly the titular Juliet. But then I suppose, this is why we read - to explore the experiences of others and find our common ground.

Intersectionality is a huge topic in Juliet Takes a Breath, particularly when accompanied by the recognition (or lack thereof) of white privilege. There are only two white women in the novel - and only one whom we actually meet in person. This leads to a lot of discussion about the importance of female, POC only spaces, where women can talk about their blackness, their latinness, their asianness, without the intercession of white people, no matter how well meaning. in fact, the notion of White Feminism as a whole is systematically picked apart throughout the novel - with Juliet’s hero Harlowe Brisbane the author of a novel called Raging Flower: Empower Your Pussy by Empowering Your Mind how could it not? The fact that so much of Feminism leaves trans-women behind is routinely brought up for the same reason that black feminism is - in that it is used to discuss how white women, in their position of privilege can choose to either ignore the problems other women face, or can use their platform to bring awareness, and more than that, to bring about effective change.

One thing I did notice about Juliet Takes a Breath was the breakdown of any mix-raced couples. I’m not sure if this is meant to be a statement by the author, but I did find it a little disheartening. On the flip side, the reason for the breakdowns did tend to be because the white party refused to listen to their POC partner when it came to issues of race and culture. Because of the breakdown of one of the romantic couples however, we did get to see a positive move forward where both parties were able to resolve their differences and remain friends, something that is very encouraging, and possibly even necessary in a small community.

Mostly of course, what I love about this novel is… Juliet. I love her so much. I love her enthusiasm and the way she breaks and finds herself again. I love the way she develops intense crushes on cute girls and that she gets a gay haircut because of a crush on one of said cute girls. I love that her faith doesn’t get in the way of her gayness, my favourite part was when she talked about the time she met god. Whether it’s because it highlights the difference in the listeners or because in that moment,  I saw myself in her more strongly than at any other time I don’t know, but it moved something in me and I loved her and this whole novel all the more for it.

This is a book that challenged my ways of thinking, opened my mind to new modes of thought, made me want to be a better person, made me step back and take a look at myself and society and think “how could this be different? How could this be better?” I don’t say that to imply that Juliet Takes a Breath is spinach reading - tastes meh but is good for you, rather it is an enjoyable read which is so suffused with the authors passion for life and improvement that you are drowned in its love and only at the very end, when the last line stabs you in the heart and finally releases you, can you breathe.

I received a copy of this from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review

[letseattodaysass]

All of the astrology asks

-aries: what are you passionate about?

Acting? Being a bitch? Being neutral and dead inside? Not having a passion? Idk man.

-taurus: name 3 of your favorite books.

Eragon, Four Past Midnight, and The Lightning Thief.

-gemini: what was the last text you sent?

“Lol I ran a red light”

-cancer: if you could choose your child's zodiac sign, what would it be?

Cancer? Which happens to be the same as this question lol.

-leo: name something you love about yourself.

The fact that I literally do not give a fuck anymore and it pisses people off lmao.

-virgo: what's your #1 pet peeve?

People talking over each other and then it just turns into yelling and I want to die.

-libra: describe your dream partner.

Tall as fuck, nice eyes, not a skinny hoe so I can be thrown across the goddamn room during sex, also really really nerdy and into Let’s Players.

-scorpio: do you trust easily?

No but I tell people everything so they can’t use it against me as leverage lmao.

-sagittarius: if you could travel to any place in the world, where would it be?

Venice I think.

-capricorn: what's your dream job?

Ideally an actor or a writer (or a YouTuber but everyone is these days so).

-aquarius: do you believe in aliens?

Do you not? Dude, space is so vast there has to be something else out there don’t be fucking dumb.

-pisces: describe someone you love.

She’s tall and skinny as hell and has boney fingers and toes but is really pretty and has great eyebrows and eyes and hair and is cute literally always. Also she lets me bitch about people all the time and has never ever made me second guess myself (after we became friends because we used to mutually think that we hated each other even though we didn’t).

-sun: describe yourself in 3 words.

Short, pudgy, hyperactive

-moon: what's your favorite song?

Whistle for the Choir by the Fratellis

-rising/asc: how would you describe your style?

Hardcore androgynous? Idk man depends on the day (Zee says, “Soft butch but you’re not a lesbian”).

-mars: are you easily angered?

More like easily annoyed because some people can be real fuckin dumb.

-venus: what's your aesthetic?

I have like a bajillion. Like fairy lights, well worn books, black skirts and knee high socks, and Polaroids. But also like abandoned buildings, horror games, the shapes in the shadows, and ghosts. So like gentle spook? Idk man.

-mercury: what color do you talk in?

Navy blue

-jupiter: what moral do you live by?

That as long as you’re honest, you aren’t being a bad person.

-saturn: what's your biggest fear?

Being alone forever because I have lost a fuck ton of people this year lmao.

-uranus: are you rebellious?

Kind of? Not because I hate my mom or anything but because I like adventure (and also girls, tattoos, and piercings but that’s just collateral).

-neptune: share one of your dreams.

Be successful and happy I guess idk I don’t really have anything super specific.

-pluto: what's the biggest thing you've learned by far in your life?

Some people only want to take from you and don’t expect to have to give anything in return.

-lilith: do you have any guilty pleasures?

I make burritos at like 1 in the morning a lot while watching Game Grumps.

-chiron: have you ever broken a bone?

Nope.

-ceres: are you a momfriend?

I’m more of the sister friend, where I’ll fuck someone’s shit up but also help you safely make bad decisions.

-pallas: do you have a good relationship with your parents?

With my mom, yes. With my dad, no.

-juno: do you believe in soul mates?

Yes but I also believe that you have more than one. Maybe you have four friend soulmates and only one significant other soulmate. Maybe you don’t have any significant other soulmates. Who knows. Not me.

-1st house: are you confident?

Yes…? Unless I’m having a really anxious day.

-2nd house: if you could only keep one of your personal items, what would you choose?

My laptop bc I just spent $600 on it lmao.

-3rd house: do you like to read?

Yeah but I don’t very often unfortunately.

-4th house: what does your bedroom look like?

A mess and kind of empty since I’m packing for college. (Three weeks till I leave)

-5th house: name your favorite movie or show.

Baby Driver was a great movie and G.L.O.W. is a fucking awesome show.

-6th house: do you participate in community service?

If acting at the local theater counts, yes. If not, lol no.

-7th house: if you could choose, what zodiac sign would you like your dream partner to be?

Idk a lot of the things say Cancer is the best match for Pisces so that I guess.

-8th house: do you believe in reincarnation?

Sure, why not.

-9th house: what's your favorite quote?

“I banged ladesh” (Like Bangladesh but a sex joke)

-10th house: are you good at public speaking?

It depends on what it’s about. If I’m really invested and well educated in the topic, I’m great but if I’m shitting out of my mouth, absolutely not.

-11th house: what sign(s) is your best friend/squad?

Zee is Gemini, Blake is Taurus, Grace is Cancer, and Dan is Virgo.

-12th house: do you like to be alone?

Sometimes but I do need to see people or else I’ll go crazy.

Sorry for the late response, I just assume no one asks me to answer these lmao