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shopcat · 2 months

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i've actually made this post before somewhere but i'll make it again because i want to 🫡 i think the phrase "slutty little waist" has caused irreparable damage to a lot of people's minds (being dramatic btw) and pushed harmful thinking relating to skinniness = sexiness, even if it's unintentional... intention isn't really the point when imo and ime the way people talk about this so called trait tends to reflect from a mirror of conventionally attractive typical (cis) bodies where the defining feature is thinness/"fitness" -_-

saying that you're really into the typical broad shouldered v-shaped body and tapered waist is not actually like, subversive at all 😭 and on the inverse it's very indicative of the root of this issue that when i like search the phrase on pinterest or whatever i get borderline bodychecking/thinspo content as well where shrink wrapped skinniness has once again become a desirable trait repackaged in false projections of subversiveness/atypicality ... imo it's not necessarily the phrasing here nor the mindset of it all (i Love grab his waist and twirl him around...) but the idea of what that means to some people is really... warped. everyone on earth HAS a waistline and can therefore Have a slutty waist if they so want.

i also think an anatomy refresher is due to be honest because some people are straight up WRONG and i don't think it'll hurt... i study anatomy amateurly as an artist so i'm no expert lol 😭 but ok.

1st of all what people call the "waist" here isn't particularly accurate in a lot of cases. your natural waist is the smallest part of your torso, on some bodies, where it dips in the most, usually under your ribcage/above the hip. what people are usually talking about here are like, hips? the general hip area? (i can see what's happening here because the waistline does usually mark where the "smallness" begins in the typical examples, but it doesn't have to be all \ /-> | | you know.)

your torso is made up of a lot of muscles and fat that sit in different ways, and other than your spine, your hip bone is the only bone in all that meat and helps give shape to your body. i've marked ROUGHLY whereabouts the waistline (red) and hip line (blue) are on these bodies:

in all that is this screepy thing...

who also helps create my second favourite part of the human body (the hip dip <3). it's not lost on me that what a lot of people mean when they talk about this trait looks something like the bottom right figure above, but it doesn't HAVE TO BE... is what i mean. i'm saying all this anatomically because i think it's helpful to know what actually goes on in people's bodies in order to not glorify the single, typical (cis) men's glamourised body type of: shrink wrapped + water deficient + abs + broad shoulders + a pronounced latissimus dorsi (the "dorito" shape) and a tapered waistline that goes straight down. any of these features can be applied to multiple bodies but to focus on the waistline itself is crazy to me because it can look like anything in those images above.

now obv there is nothing WRONG with any of the body types mentioned and you're allowed to like whatever you want but projecting a specific kind of body as the only desirable thing with specific wording and an invisible barrier keeping pretty much every single other person out is... corny and rude and stupid. and pushing skinniness as the only hot thing is obviously harmful and stupid.

and most of all it is WRONG because and i will repeat this until i die: Every body type on earth has a waist, no matter how pronounced or not, and it can be hot or sexy or whatever. if you want. honestly to me the phrase has always applied to any kind of man or woman or oyster and Only applies to the waistline dip, and the beautiful thing about the waistline dip is it can be on any body and fatness is heavily happily included in that o_<✌️also i forgot to say but love handles are literally half of the entire point of living and love handles and wide hips and fat on your hips and stomach in general rules and not only should be included in this phenomenon but ARE... how are you going to have a slutty little waist if there's no love handles to cushion it. idiot. if nothing i've ever said is important let this be ☝️

#🐾#fun fact the ilium (those big bowl shapes in the hip bone) help create both that v thing people talk about on some people's pelvises #AND is the thing that makes the two dimples on some people's lower backs. which is also called the dimple of venus or something #anyway i'm losing power on my phone so i'm just going to post this and run pretend it's very eloquent and articulate #☆

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pitynostars · 1 year

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sorry but i'm going to have to disagree. rtd's comment SOUNDS innocent and well meaning, but when sacha, an asian villain wore jodie's clothes it was fine and nothing has been said about that, but when its tennant thats unthinkable?? also, jodie specifically went to her designer and asked for an androgynous outfit because she'd seen a gnc person and wanted the doctor to be similar - why wouldn't they be? the doctor's gender is literally fluid. in the most literal sense of the word. i was hoping for some in-universe explanation for the clothes change but if its just that, i'm going to be genuinely disappointed.

i appreciate disliking the choice (i'm not actually a fan of it myself just pointing out some potential thoughts behind it + getting fed up of people spreading lies about what was actually said), but i'll repeat my pov on your points here!

"when sacha, an asian villain wore jodie's clothes it was fine and nothing has been said about that, but when its tennant thats unthinkable??"

thats exactly the point though, right? the subset that WOULD make horrible comments about it, are the type of people who also wouldn't blink twice at a “villain” “crossdressing” lets be real here. a lot of media plays that up. similar to how the reaction to whittaker!doctor and gomez!master was quite different. its different when its the actual lead. RTD would v likely know this (but bear in mind, RTD likely didn't know Dhawan!Doctor was happening in tPotD when he was planning the regeneration scene)

Dhawan almost immediately switched out for a mix of all the Doctor's outfits and eventually gets back to his Rasputin fit, it’s not his ONE look for the episode compared to it would have been 100% of DT’s screentime

with Dhawan Doctor, it was in the middle of an episode which Chibnall wrote apparently thinking the show was being CANCELLED (so like, didnt need to think abt the media reaction as much even if it had OCCURRED to him to do so)

coming out of the episode, what were all the headlines about? the regeneration. Tennant. which is what ALWAYS happens with these eps. RTD probably suspected this was going to be the main chat of the next YEAR before there’s new eps because that’s what ALWAYS gets the attention/publicity.

"also, jodie specifically went to her designer and asked for an androgynous outfit because she'd seen a gnc person and wanted the doctor to be similar - why wouldn't they be? the doctor's gender is literally fluid. in the most literal sense of the word."

Sure and the whole REASON Whittaker herself had to emphasise "these are not women’s clothes they’re the doctor’s clothes" "anyone can wear them" etc. etc. back when she first started is because SHE knew the public/media reaction too and was trying to get ahead of it in the same way as RTD is with this.

RTD hasn't said the Doctor is cis, or can't be played by a woman again, or that cosplayers can't dress as 13 (or whatever people are making up now) it's purely about the REAL WORLD reaction of having Tennant be the last shot of the ep, the ONLY official shot of his Doctor we would have had for a whole YEAR for the vultures to potentially latch on to. The Doctor doesn't exist in a vacuum.

"i was hoping for some in-universe explanation for the clothes change but if its just that, i'm going to be genuinely disappointed."

this still might happen!! the article (that i know of) doesn't say anything about whether it'll play into the plot. i'm hoping it will too, especially as the end of tPotD plays it up as feeling so Wrong/out of place (which... again is probably why RTD didn't want Tennant in Whittaker's outfit here if that was the vibe he was going for!!! the optics there would have been very 😬)

#replies tag #i typed this out once and then tumblr glitched out so i rushed retyping it if u see typos lmk 😔#rtd #doctor who #once again i dont rlly agree w it wholeheartedly but i do get where rtd is coming from #i get why people are upset/angry just offering potentially some logic/reasoning......#obvs i cant read rtds mind so !#also as for innocent and well meaning 1 i never said that #2 like... yeah he wants to protect ppl from seeing vitriol towards trans ppl/gnc ppl/ppl who do drag etc... like...#seems well meaning to me even if i dont agree w the choice and the way he worded his explanation is a bit clumsy #bear in mind he's been working in british media how long now lmao he knows the game he knows the reactions so well by now #he had to fight SO hard to be allowed to get its a sin on air

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romana-after-dark · 8 months

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Romana I am thinking about Him.

Would Lorenzo love me even though I'm afab?

Short answer: Yes!

Long answer:

This brings up an interesting question

What is Lorenzo’s sexuality?

Here’s what we know

1. Lorenzo gets married to Zach, an cis man

2. Lorenzo said little one wasn’t his type, her brother (Zach was)

3. In the Lorenzo Zach bonus chapter, Lorenzo says he was married to a woman but had an amicable divorce when she realized before him that he was gay

Now, in the early 2000’s and late 90’s people knew what bisexuality was but there was (and often still is) this idea that you have to choose one, same with gender. You were male or female. Now we know we can be both or neither. Sexuality and gender is far more complicated

Despite my lil Drabble for Angela I don’t think Lorenzo is the most attracted to fem presenting at least off the bat. He was married but other than stating his wife asked for the divorce bc she knew he was gay before he figured it out, we don't know much about their relationship. We knew they were friends for a long time and dated for a long time and lorenzo proposed bc thats what you did after dating for years. His wife was a cisgender woman.

Lables are complicated.

I call Lorenzo gay, because in the story that's what he is and there was no reason to subvert that as he loves Zach and they are v happy together. There was no reason to dive into the complexitites of what Lorenzo's sexuality is because he is not the center of either story and although I could have went into that, there was no need. Additionally, given the world falling apart in early 2000's, there is not the langauge or understand of gender, sex, relationships, attraction etc that there is now, especially not to the common person.

What we do know about Lorenzo is he is an open, relaxed, loving person, who loves Zach, little one, Ellie and his family from before very, very much.

I think his first go-to when looking for a romantic or sexual partner is someone masc (much like me, I am bi sexual but def a preference towards men. Doesn't mean I'm not attracted to women and non binary people) I don't think any of that means he wouldn't be open to exploring with someone non binary, generfluid, and so on, whether or not they are AFAB. And if he makes a connection, if he falls in love, then dammit he falls in love. I think he probably did love his wife outside of their friendship, it just wasn't right.

We'll never really know, because Lorenzo is happily married and monogamous, and him and Zach are together forever.

When it comes to sexuality I see Lorenzo as that Creed meme from the office. "I’m not offended by homosexuality. In the 60s I made love to many, many women – often outdoors in the mud and the rain – and it’s possible that a man slipped in. There’d be no way of knowing. "

V much a go with the flow kind of person. He has his go-to's but that doesn't mean every else is disqualified.

And know you, knowing your fun energy, goofiness, and good heart i bet he'd fall tf in love so fast he wouldn't know what hit him.

#the wrong way series #lorenzo #lorenzo tag #romana answers asks

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angelsaxis · 2 years

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I'm saying this as a nonbinary lesbian and someone's who's feminism is focused on Black trans women. So don't call me a T3rf.

I don't like how the transphobic feminists have claimed the most tepid basic 101 takes about feminism, to the point where they've become dog whistles for rampant and violent transphobia regardless of the intentions or social classes (ie race, gender, cis or not) of the person saying them.

Saying make up is fundamentally a gender role before its an empowering tool isn't a radical statement at all. Talking about how so much of ~womens empowerment~ still relies on women being beautiful/sexy under the cisheteropatriarchy/white supremacist gaze isn't radical. Someone stating the facts of life for women, and by extension most AFAB people, isn't a radical statement. I remember these things being in feminism 101, especially things like "why does every woman need to be empowered to feel like she's beautiful? Like her body actually does fit society's beauty standards, when the goal should be that she isn't expected to be beautiful in the first place? That she can just be?" And this one is especially insidious because I'm p sure that sentiment was started by fat activists, but now u talk too much about the most basic facets of our society and it's akin to declaring war on trans women (the body pos movement was started by fat activists, and I'm 99% sure it was to be about body neutrality. Now look what it's become). It's so incredibly harmful because I've seen literal trans women get called transphobic feminists for the most basic shit in the world.

(sometimes it makes me wonder: why is a woman who talks about her own oppression automatically viewed as a threat and oppressor herself, even if she's literally the victim of the oppression you accuse her of?)

This also goes hand in hand with how mainstream feminism I feel like has been rendered useless by capitalism and a fear of coming across too strong or aggressive (which is rooted in misogyny anyways). I remember being on here in 2013 right when feminism was becoming more popular/mainstream. Pointing out double standards for men and women for the "shallower" things of fashion and appearance and gender performance was the standard. Now I see people do it and get accused of being T3RFs. Like what's radical about it? Is it necessarily a revolutionary or extreme belief?

There's a lot of things that T3RFs will try to convince you are exclusive and unique to t3rfism, but they're not. That's how I think they recruit people, by seeming like the only ones to point out the obvious or be "reasonable" when they're not. And so many liberal feminists aren't as aware of more relevant dog whistles, like posts that reek of biological essentialism or that paint women as perma-victims. Or just the outright transphobic ideology.

I think a good way to combat this would be to realize that there's more than just two kinds of feminism. Both radfems and libfems seem to have this v black and white thinking that there's only two types of feminism. What's important to remember is that there's actually radical feminists that aren't transphobc--ive seen lots of feminist groups in other countries and anti-racist feminists here describe themselves as radical because their politics truly is radical. And it's only radical because it's anti-capitalist and anti-racist--which necessarily includes supporting trans and gnc people, especially the women, since in the US at least how we even conceive of gender and what makes a woman is based in white supremacy.

#angel posts #and christian fundamentalism but that's for another post #also not making this rebloggble for obvious reasons #last time i tried to say anything about feminism people completely ignored what i said #made assumptions #and then yelled at me for shit aint nobody said #sorry im not over it bc by god that shit was baffling and annoying

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in-christalone · 2 years

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You do understand that roe v wade being over turned doesn't mean no abortions, right? It's state by state, at least legally. There is still going to be many illegal (unsafe for the pregnant person) abortions. The reason we need safe abortions is so ALIVE people don't die. Just wait until next year and google the deaths from unsafe abortions. Please for the love of God stop saying abortion is murder when the mother was doing what was best for her and the future child, all your doing is shaming people.

Roe v wade is just the start, next they come for gay marriage, freedom of religion, birth control and other rights that we need (possibly even your right to vote). We're going back to the 1800 hundreds were the only law was church.

Just because you have these values doesn't mean everyone else does. If you want to be Christian great, that's why we have freedom of religion. The over turning of r v w is just going to make alot of people's live worse.

I know your going to say "no gay marriage, great!" But imagine if that was your right to be a Christian. You would be (rightfully) upset having your rights taken away by old white men. That's the reality for alot of people now.

I know your probably not going to respond to this but please understand what your saying. We have these laws for a reason and the only result that will come of this is death and suffering of many. Most of this does not effect you because you are a (most likely) cis straight white woman and Christian, the only oppression you have faced is from being a woman. I'm honestly surprised as a woman you would be apposed to having safe abortions.

I am literally begging you to please stop spreading hate. People kys over some of the stuff you say and if I was at my lowest point when I came out I probably would have too. In your bio I saw that you were apart of the LGBTQ+ and am very sorry you were forced to be some you aren't.

"Please for the love of God stop saying abortion is murder when the mother was doing what was best for her and the future child"

There is no future for a person who is murdered, these children have no chance at life. Sin should be shamed, however, that shame should lead you to the foot of the cross where Jesus died for your sins so that you may have eternal life in Him.

The Church faced persecution ever since Jesus had died and was resurrected, even to this day Christians around the world are having their rights taken away, they are raped, beheaded, murdered, their families are sometimes even forced to watch in terror tragic things. I cannot say that I personally know what that's like, but with any look into history you will see that Christians ARE persecuted for their faith, rights taken away and stripped of power.

but we stand strong for our Savior. We love the world and desire fo you to come to Christ.

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luckyladylily · 2 years

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Speaking of radical feminism among trans women, if that's okay -- I was talking to a friend of mine the other day (I'm a trans man, she's a trans woman) and she mentioned how she'd seen people in the transfem spaces she's in talking about trans men like "I don't understand why anyone would give up being a woman", and how it was jarring to her because her immediate understanding was "oh yeah, they would want to give it up because of dysphoria, like I had about being a man". And I'm still thinking about it now because it's a really underrecognised way of breaking a basic connection between different trans people! Instead of acknowledging dysphoria as a shared-but-different experience it's a denial of the importance of dysphoria and a reframing of the issue as about someone being the "good" gender or not :/

(I don't think you need dysphoria to be trans, and it isn't the only connection between trans people, but it's a connection and denying its impact on trans men in favour of radfem narratives is bad)

Yeah, this is something that has been happening for a while but its getting more and more common among people who don't think of themselves as radfem or trans exclusionary.

I wrote that post about trans women adopting radfem ideas before the Roe v Wade news, and I've written other posts that are less combative in the past. This is exactly where trans mascs have been saying this is heading.

There has especially been a rapid increase since the Roe v Wade news has come out, including a significant increase in the insistence that we need to abandon reproductive rights and healthcare for trans mascs in an attempt to make it easier to secure reproductive rights and healthcare for cis women. There have also been people saying that trans men are "speaking over" trans and cis women about women's issues if they try to insist that they not be abandoned.

It has by far been more coming from cis people, especially cis women, but there are also trans women who are pushing these ideas. But then again cis women outnumber trans women around three hundred to one, and cis people in the LGB community outnumber trans women by at least twenty to one. Simply by statistics we would expect cis people to far, far outweigh the amount of trans people talking about this, so we don't actually know if trans women are adopting these views at lower rates than cis people.

These ideas are all text book radfem rhetoric. Radfems have been saying this exact thing for 50 years, and its deeply prejudice. There have been people among progressive communities frequently disparaging all men as a group, another radfem classic. Radfems have always targeted trans mascs as well as trans femmes, frankly we just ignore it.

It wont stop there. We are one step away from people like you talk about in your ask declaring trans mascs, both trans men and NBs, being gender/class traitors. Its already happening among cis women that consider themselves trans inclusive, but I have not personally seen it from trans women. I would not be surprised in the least to find a few examples though.

After that we end up with blatant terf behavior that is maybe not directly violent but is systematically violent, like attempts to strip trans mascs of rights similar to how JKR is targeting trans women. After that direct and escalating violence like the worst of terfs.

This is not necessarily strictly linear - some will reach the direct violence stage while others are still in the stage of demanding trans mascs voluntarily give up their rights, for example. It is possible that there are already "trans inclusive" people violent against trans men and trans mascs. I have not seen it myself, but I am not the target.

Its a pattern of radicalization that has repeated itself several times in progressive/queer communities. It isn't even hard to see if you are looking for it at all.

As for why I would call these people, even trans women, who adopt these trans masc exclusionary ideas terfs is because they are. They exclude trans people from their feminsim using radfem ideas as a justification. The only difference is they are selective about how the exclude trans people.

I guess you could add a "selectively" on the front of that to make sterfs, but I find no need to make that distinction. If a person excludes trans people, any trans people, with radfem ideas as justification they are terfs. That includes trans women. If they don't want to be called terfs they should stop being terfs. Simple as that.

#If I messed up on terms for trans mascs I am sorry #I am bad at that sort of thing #and I am still confused by the correct language #but I hope people understand I am without reservation standing by the trans men and trans masc communities on this issue

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

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Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

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gatheringbones · 4 years

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hey bones I'm a femme lesbian but i feel like I'm not entirely a woman idk how to explain like i feel like a funhouse mirror version of a lady but I don't think I'm nonbinary as well bc only certain gendered terms (like queen) make me flinch from them but not others? idk what to do, do you have any recommended reading to figure this out?? i live in a v homophobic country and don't know any other lesbian irl to talk about this

I don’t necessarily want to recommend reading certain materials that would give you the definite, clear-cut, completely unambiguous example of what you’re looking for (even though Joan Nestle’s work in particular jumps out at me as having very much to say about lesbian and femme especially as their own genders) because I find myself questioning the efficacy of simply handing you a citation and saying “See? There you are in your entirety. Somebody figured it all out for you thirty years ago and it’s all in here, problem solved.” I don’t think that’s possible, frankly; I think there are still pieces of you that won’t line up exactly, especially considering the cultural differences and societal pressures you face that directly inform how you interact with gender and history and desire and presentation, and that not lining up is still going to feel lonely and uncomfortable and potentially forbidden for you.

What I would like to offer you instead, if I can scrounge the words together, is that no matter what you read, you’re going to find examples of people who had absolutely no language or theory or analysis surrounding who or what they are, and how those common those accounts are in the historical and literary record. I would point towards people from historical periods who when presented with the current definitions of what a lesbian for sure was and wasn’t, promptly said “ah, no thank you” and trailblazed into territories of gender so forbidden it barred them from taking part in wider lesbian culture as it was defined and defended at the time. People who grew up very rural, or very working class, or both, people from below the poverty line, people with different racial backgrounds; all sorts of people whose class and racial backgrounds do not remotely line up with white, upper-class, academic cis-feminism, whose language has always been inadequate at describing how much diversity of experience there is with people who choose to interact with the lesbian label. I would want to point you towards people who did it wrong, in other words, who were the thing that you feel isn’t permissible within the current language system that’s been approved for lesbianism, and who carried on being that thing despite the vocal and enthusiastic presence of a great many people who saw lesbianism as a crumbling fortress beset on all sides by tainted invaders.

Joan Nestle’s great for this, but so is Leslie Feinberg— wordlessness and ambiguity and the freedom you can find in both runs all throughout hir work, and you can find echoes of that trickster strength in all kinds of authors— Amy Fox, Audre Lorde, Sinclair Sexsmith, Tristen Taormino, Rae Spoon, Ivan Coyote. Ivan’s also who I turn to when I want to read someone who grew up in the backcountry with no theory because that’s me; I didn’t grow up in a city with visible gay people, I grew up with no electricity or running water in a shack with crazy people who were very vocal about performing violence on anyone who so much as resembled a homosexual, and I grew into a gender and sexuality shaped by my trauma and disembodiment and the kind of searing rural loneliness that only people who lived it are going to be able to empathize with. Right now I’m thinking about the story from Bushfire I read that’s set at a secret Black lesbian house party in the south where there’s so much conversation and vernacular happening and the moments of sexuality are so bewilderingly presented that you can’t tell what anybody necessarily is only that it’s wonderfully unlikely that any of this is happening at all. I’m thinking about Larry Mitchell and The Faggots and Their Friends In Between Revolutions and how much of that book has to do with intentionally fucking with categories in order to subvert patriarchal control. (“The faggots and their friends and the women who love women can keep the men off balance for a long time by subtly, but continually, changing their identities. The men who are in charge of controlling it all find it difficult always to know how many of each kind there are, and who they are. Each group can grow and shrink as the men’s changing ferociousness demands.”) I’m also thinking about Jeanne Cordova writing in anguish about having to cut the chains off of her boots because the lesbian feminist scene she was involved with said they were “male-identified” and therefore forbidden. I’m thinking about the white woman at the Womyn’s festival in Minnie Bruce Patt’s S/he who pokes one of her companions in the chest and accuses them of having “boy energy” and that they need to leave immediately, and of Leslie Feinberg turning to them and asking her to decide right then and there what gender ze is and whether or not ze should be kicked out as well. (“You turn to the angry woman and ask quietly, “What about me? Do I have male energy? Am I a woman or a man?” She pauses, taken aback, and finally says, “I don’t want to talk about each person...” You reply, “But you do want someone to decide. You want someone to judge, and us to submit to judgement. So tell me, am I a man or a woman? Tell me how you can decide? The woman falls completely silent, all of us sit silent. She does not answer. She walks away.”) I’m thinking of ambiguousness as a defense mechanism and a weapon all in one, because people do all sorts of things when presented with ambiguousness that tell you exactly who they are, and people who can co-exist with and honor ambiguousness are incredibly rare. I think that feeling like a funhouse mirror of a woman is only dangerous in spaces where ambiguity and exploration aren’t allowed, where it isn’t safe because of the presence of people who find more meaning and comfort and safety in mapped categories than they do in the lived experience of gender outlaws. I think they’re delusional and brittle and authoritarian and that Larry had them pegged exactly right. I want to invite you, if at all possible, to see your status as both incredibly common and a gift.

Will you run across something that seems to describe you word for word and fills you with joy and certainty? It’s more than possible; lesbians are a prolific bunch and the more you keep tracking down and reading the more likely you’ll come across something exactly like that. But if you don’t? if it’s a lifelong search, or more like an ongoing conversation between you and other members of your community, throughout history and person-to-person? that’s even more likely, that seems like what we’re all doing. And if you end up being your own weird thing, to the point where some For Real Lesbian points at you and shouts that you’re undermining and betraying the very concept of lesbianism? you’ve made it baby! You’re in such good company!

#book recs tag #sorry for the tangent being confused and in a state of search is good actually #rule breaking is comforting and life sustaining

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