#Also also... might not be the last time you'll see them as lesbians this month... along with another sasi ship... WHO KNOWS!

[just-a-lesbian-human]

Hello @analogical-month !!! I'm back :3

If I have the chance to make any ship lesbians I will IMMEDIATELY do so (*^▽^)/★*☆♪

(Whoever sees this gets to decide 1 what Virgil is listening to and 2 decide who Logan is "talking" to (she's obviously very distracted for very good and valid reasons!) because idk I just make the gay people)

[naumin]

november updates

ok so i know november ended yesterday, i did think about titling this post december updates but i know december will be a whole different beast for me... just let me have this... it's been a really long time since i sat down and talked about all my recent projects and goings on!!!! so in case you missed what i've been up to, read on... :)

the free Laios/Marcille fanthology I organised is OUT!!! no tall towers to climb (https://naumin.itch.io/laimar) came out November 10th, and erm only 5 days later than scheduled... it's a big boy at 112 pages with contributions from 14 fans !! I had so much fun organising this and was really touched by the love and care ppl put into their works... fans are so powerful... it's free to download and read digitally or even print and bind your own copy (I am really excited to see your printed and bound copies if you have made them please dont hesitate to @ me...) I love books.. i love making books...

I don't have plans to organise a Volume II however I did start writing a post of my process to maybe help and encourage anyone else who'd like to start a project like this one. It got really lengthy though and I wasn't sure if it was helpful to anyone lol so when I have a minute I really gotta go and edit that thing down

also nobody asked me but the title is based on a poem by 12thc warrior poet Xin Qiji. i guess the tower reminded me of their dungeon misadventures hehe.

also did i mention it's FREE! !!!!!!!

7 months of subscribestar I've officially been making new posts on substar every single week since May ! It's been really fun tbh and I don't have plans of slowing down yet :) I really appreciate everyone who's visited and it makes a huge difference even just subscribing for 1 month or 2, just having that little extra to help out on months where I can't take as many commissions or I'm sick or away from home etc! You may have noticed I've added a tip jar tier ($2.5) for those who can't manage the $6 sketchbook tier... on principle I wanna make it lower but after fees it'd be zilch and I am kind of like if you have $2... maybe hold onto that. lol. maybe use that somewhere else. you can always make 1-time donations through substar or ko-fi (yeah, I have one...) my next projects...

Ballet Yuri Year One, the compilation book of one year of works on Ilze & Evangeline, whos 1st birthday was in September and I haven't had time to look at the files since October but I will look at them again soon-- last spot I left it, it was at least 30 pages... I think it will definitely be double that and could possibly be triple that (omg).

NERD SEX VOLUME III my annual NSFW sketchbook which traditionally comes out around January/February! I'm delusional that this one will be the simplest to put together and so it might be the next thing you see from me. It will be available for all subscribers as soon as it's ready. I also gotta remember to upload Nerd Sex I & II at the same time. for those who dont wanna subscribe, you can get 50% off Nerd Sex I & II in the meantime now :) also i forsee about 300% more lesbians in Nerd Sex III. It's the year of the dyke.

A collaborative NSFW anthology coming next year. This one has a longer production period to give everyone time to work and give me time to get organised lol. Hopefully you'll hear more about this one in the new year! It's for the boys and the ppl who love boys <3

the issues oh my god I've been having technical issues with my ipad the last month. I keep getting random lines and marks while drawing in procreate ! A lot of people said it could be my sweater or hand or case touching the screen while I draw but I don't think that is it, plus it's only started recently. It's not my pen and it's not my settings. it apparently COULD be a technical issue with my ipad model which would suck cuz I got this refurbished (from Apple still) so do i have like..... warranty? will they repair it for me :S? idk. I'll have to look into it though sooner or later cuz it's driving me bananas and slowing my output! AGH! I pray she heals on her own overnight. amen.

commissions I am NOT taking any new commissions in December (unless you are a $10 subscriber) but I am still doing the KISS YCH which also has a very cute wintery version up for this month only lol. same price! check it out if you wanna see your pookies under the mistletoe <3 would make a great present to you or someone u know...

alright that's all. thanks for reading my updates post. did anyone read this whole post besides me? thanks for being there for a while whilst i talked to myself before you presumably left and did something more fun and enriching. i love you.

[1ore]

Hi, I've been following you since Ye Olde Esk Days and you've always been a huge inspiration for me as a fellow gender-questioning neurodivergent lesbian both in art and science.

I've been wanting to reach out because I'm considering enrolling in Enviroinmental Sciences (or something in that ballpark) in 1 or 2 years and wanted to ask how your experience studying it has been to you as a person with an artistic bakground? I am afraid my ADHD might get in the way of maths, and that I might not be "smart" enough to pursue a degree in STEM, despite the fact I've always been interested in scientific subjects and in the conservation efforts around the area (and the river) I grew up in. so, yeah, I don't really know what else to say xmx I hope this message wasn't too much, and thank you for taking the time to read it. Your art and its message has always meant a lot to me! (also, happy Pride month!)

ONE OF US! ONE OF US!

So, funny enough, math anxiety is part of what what led me to Environmental Science in the first place. My degree is a Bachelor of Arts in Environmental Science, not a Bachelor of Science, because IIIIIII didn’t want to take more semesters of calculus and organic chemistry than I had to 🤪 I struggled with math in highschool, and by the time I went back to school, it had been more than 5 years since I last took a math class. I was also more interested in the interdisciplinary parts of Environmental Science, so a BA let me put more credit hours towards classes in policy, law, social science, humanities, etc.

As far as I know, having a BA hasn’t held me back. I’ve been accepted into internships and other programs doing “real science” just fine. Maybe this won’t always be true, but I’ve figured out that I like teaching and engaging people in science more than I like being in academia, so that works out fine for me.

As for my experience with ADHD and math/science courses, I have euuuauuuehhh a lot of thoughts. This gets dense, sorry.

First, my ADHD came with a side of anxiety, which manifested as a compulsion to do well academically regardless of how much my mental health suffered. Doing busy work felt like hell on earth for reasons that were then mysterious to me, but disappointing my teachers felt Worse. So I became really good at, like, academic minmaxing, not so much learning or taking care of myself. It’s hard to articulate. I want to say I was muddling through these classes as a professional test-taker and not a student, and also not applying myself fully. But at the same time, I felt like I was well beyond my breaking point? This made more sense to me later when I got the diagnosis LOL. my capacity for doing the things I’m supposed to do, the way I’m supposed to do them, is lower than other peoples’. So either I do what I’m not supposed to do, or I do it “the wrong way.” <- meaningless.

I say all that because coursework is a poor metric of how “good” you are at science or math, or whether you'll enjoy doing them outside of the classroom. We know this LOL but I want to reiterate it. I learned how to get really good grades without learning how to reason my way through why xyz methodology is justified, or how to ask questions and be curious about what’s happening around me. It’s corny but it’s true. on one hand I still struggle with these, because I’m still working under the assumption that whatever’s going on in my head is the “wrong” way to do it. But ADHD does a lot of heavy lifting for us with lateral thinking and being able to make connections that other people can’t always see. If you want to do Science ™ (as in academic research,) this is an awesome tool to have in your toolkit.

There’s also a whole world of environmental work outside of academia that demands its own skillset, which coursework may or may not teach. Like, if you want to do hands-on restoration work or interpretive work or field technician stuff, this is less “can you spit out the balanced equation for photosynthesis on command” and more “can you operate a woodchipper” or “are you comfortable with public speaking and customer service.“ This is another part of what attracted me to envirosci--how wide-ranging the job market is. The backdrop of science is the same, but your day-to-day responsibilities can look wildly different.

Also, if it’s any encouragement, being an arts person has been a huge plus in my experience. My most recent employer told me outright that the artsy scicomm stuff in my resume is what made them think “oh, we need her.” Art and science are wives LOL a lot of the skills you hone as an artist are invaluable in science, especially if you’re doing any kind of communication work. (<- has seen some poorly-written papers and incomprehensible figures in her time)

Going along with that, back when I was yea high and wanted to do art professionally, I remember people telling me that you only go to art school for the professional connections. A lot of STEM careers are locked behind having a specialized degree, but I think this advice is still applicable here. Being a “good student” hasn’t helped me as much as abandoning my anxiety and sending cold emails, showing up at peoples’ guest lectures and office hours, participating fully and sincerely, etc. The stuff I did outside the classroom was more meaningful to me, in the end. (That said, I was lucky to have several classes that were more skills/training-oriented for things like GIS, field botany, conducting environmental assessments for NEPA, etc. You can swing projects for classes like these as opportunities to build skills or create portfolio pieces.)

OK. I thiiiink that’s everything I have for you? I hope that answers your question. If not, I can give it another shot. I'll also leave you with this answer from beloved mutual Heedra re: what Environmental Science as a major is like. I can't believe it's 6 years old because it's part of what put Environmental Science on my radar in the first place LOL

[pvdbaby]

i have grown years in the last 12 months

this is my first post. i'm in my early 20s, i live in providence, i'm trans. i might be a lesbian but maybe not. hints of transness has been following me for many years but it wasn't til may '24 that things started getting real. the last 12 months have included a whole lot of growing pains.

i'm here because trans people need to write, and i need an outlet. it's been a while since i've really tried to write and i can't remember that last time i was vulnerable online. maybe it was because i was raised in the stranger danger era that i keep somewhat private, but it feels more important than ever to just be visible. i still need to find the words to describe what i'm experiencing, but maybe one day i'll become practiced enough and have undergone enough self-discovery that my words will help someone else.

nov 4 2024

it's election night eve in the usa, and things have been feeling so bleak. on this day last year (nov 4 2023), i was in freedom plaza marching for palestine. the anger was so fresh, like nothing i had ever felt before. i had faith that changing the tide of public opinion could change the outcome of our actions abroad. it's been a full year since that march and i find myself sick and desensitized. i still think about palestine every hour of every day.

learning how to question every rule and truly learning yourself is such a process. i'm not sure i even do really know myself. i'm not sure that most people ever come this far in deconstructing gendered expectations placed on them, but maybe that's just early 20s arrogance. i understood the references people made to the matrix before i started transitioning, but it wasn't until august that i REALLY got it. there's a whole other paradigm out there and once you see it, how can you not live queer?

it's strange to feel some kind of euphoria from deep-diving into yourself, your trauma, and almost feel selfish for the unique pleasure you can take from it while your taxes go towards unspeakable horror. it feels so insignificant -- gender exploration almost feels like another distraction. but, i think part of learning to question what you've been taught about gender also necessitates questioning what you've been taught geopolitically. trans liberation and palestinian liberation are hard to separate for me. once you see the silliness of gender binary propaganda (boys are hard-wired this way, girls are hard-wired that way), you start to see the reliances on bullshit essentialist ways our government demonizes people in countries that have oil and resources (they're hard-wired to be violent, our enemies). i don't see how we'll have one group's liberation without the other, and i sure am scared for all of us regardless of the outcome of this election.

looking back on my college years, it's almost as if i was stunted. i cannot believe the experiences i've had over the last year and how much i've changed. i'm frequently told that i'm mature beyond my years, but what are you supposed to do with that?

if you see this, or follow me, you'll have to forgive me for the number of times i'll have to repeat myself before i finally start trusting and believing myself. i also have a tendency to get off-track when i write. i guess this is a diary for now but maybe one day i'll have essays.

i've made some really lovely trans friends within the last year but sometimes it's still lonely -- you can reach out. love you

pvd baby

[cavewretch]

captains log #755680 i don't remember how many numbers i used to put

been a while since i wrote one of these so it's Long

day 355 of the genocide in gaza. 500+ people killed in one day in lebanon. my neighbors put an israel flag in their window. hinds hall 2. i started watching this guy on youtube who does "gaza war sit reps," essentially summarizing events and the resistance's actions. he also does "tankie therapy sessions" with other ml journalists which are helping me keep it together. my mom said i looked down today and i said it's been a rough news week. she asked why. i'm trying not to let the rage and despair and biting indignation seep into my every interaction, but it'll be day 365 soon, and majority of people around me callously keep their heads firmly in the sand. how are you not also fundamentally different? how do you ignore this? aren't you at least ashamed?

no doctors will listen to me about mast cell activation syndrome. i don't almost die when i get a reaction so it doesn't count for them. i fear im getting more sensitive to triggers. i didn't get to go outside much at all this summer because of dust and pollen counts, and we didn't even have many wildfires this year. my pt said i should still do design for theater, and that i fit the vibe. "cool, chill, sure of yourself." that felt nice to hear :3 i tried to explain that i would love to, i desperately want to, but like. i get a migraine from other people's detergents. scented air fresheners force me to leave an area. i can't be in that environment anymore. not to mention my physical limitations.

i miss stimulants. pharmacies love to make you do a little dance before u can get meds. i hate being Dependent.

i can feel myself spinning out a bit on photosynth. i feel like i need to have something new every week to show to my professor, when i used to sometimes not even have a new note or idea for two months at a time. i think i need to turn the creative soil but i don't know that i have the energy for it.

i told my dad im a communist, and his first reaction was to tell me to talk to my grandfather about "living under communism" (former yugoslavia) (he left in the early 60s tho. and he lived on an island. his village has 6 houses to this day. he did not see socialism. i digress). this was a fascinating response considering my grandfather disowned my father in a fit of rage in april. do you still not think your father might be wrong about some things?

anyway. we bickered for a half hour, and the next day he informed me he downloaded the communist manifesto. probably the last thing i expected to happen but i'll report back if he actually reads it lmfao.

i've been watching a lot of documentaries on natural disasters and storm chaser videos on youtube recently. i've always had a fascination with extreme weather but i'm watching a lot lately. if you'll allow me to psychoanalyze myself. it's awe with weather and how the earth works. it's also a reminder that the world is bigger than humanity, we're part of an ecosystem. it's also a reminder that not all damage comes from us to each other . and that we can't possibly control everything. and it's nice to see people help each other. idk. it feels a bit twisted. but isn't it incredible that wind and temperature and water can mix up and spin and do all that?

writing about lesbians is very difficult. writing about lesbians under the (albeit lax) supervision of an older man in a position of authority over me is even more difficult. every time i feel the horror in the pit of my stomach i remind myself of that tweet that was like u have to write for u & ur dick (something like that) . and it actually Isn't perverse and evil . it's actually fine. (gritting my teeth)

ok thats all i got for now . disjointed wretched brain sample . good night 🤙

[benoitblanc]

for the sleepover, tell me what you're writing about and your favorite line so far if you have one! ✨

okay this kind of has three answers so i'll answer all of them! i always love talking about my writing projects (derogatory and affectionate) :)

original project: i am still dragging my feet with my crime show, which i have made little to no progress on in the past like two years, rip. you might have seen me talking about it before but tldr the very basic premise is that it's about a group of petty grifters who accidentally pull a con on the mob and get roped into this massive imbroglio of crime lords and long-seated feuds in the parisian criminal underworld. i unfortunately am STILL outlining, and the two scenes i do have written are in script format anyway, so i'm not going to post a favorite line

x-files university au: this has sort of replaced my peggysous time loop fic as my big fic project right now, which is really a shame because i am literally a loop and a half away from being done with the time loop fic so i should really get back to it so i can PUBLISH THE GODDAMN THING. sigh. i hate plot bunnies. this one is especially annoying because it's pretty much a rehashing of the mytharc episodes from season 1 (with a little futzing around with the timeline + m&s are uni students + doggett and reyes are also there), which means i kind of need to rewatch them... but i am only 2.5 seasons into watching this show for the first time. (sort of. as you'll see with the next project i've sort of been skipping around a little. don't worry about it.) however, i am kind of obsessed with my weird little college agents and their weird little project for investigative journalism 401, so we keep chugging away at it. i'm putting my favorite scene from it thus far under the cut below, plus a bonus line specifically for you :)

x-files uhhhhhhhh: i literally do not know what to say about this one without giving things away, but i will try: it's a season 5 au that deals with grief, devotion, and codependency with a hint of psychological thriller mixed in just for shits and giggles. i also read the recipe wrong and added a full cup of angst instead of a teaspoon, whoops. i know this means nothing to you because you don't even watch this show but for those of my followers who do i don't even think i can say what characters are in this without spoiling things. as such i am not going to post a line from this one either

sleepover asks!!!

(and read on for some snippets from my txf wip!)

my favorite section from the txf university fic (bonus points if you catch the non-txf reference):

“Or how ’bout this: happy family of seven moves into this huge big house in Massachusetts last year hoping to flip and resell it, and within a month, there’s a kid dead of cyanide poisoning and the mom took a one-way trip off the top of the staircase.”

“That’s a horrible tragedy,” Scully starts, “but-”

He slaps the newspaper on the table. (“Do you just carry that around?” John asks.) “The dad went to every publication that would listen claiming the house was haunted.”

John is rubbing his temples, and Scully mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ay yi yi. Monica, however, is nodding thoughtfully along. Mulder might kiss her, if a. he weren’t dead certain she’s a lesbian and b. he hadn’t recently come to the realization, completely unprompted by any real-life events, that he’s more partial to redheads.

and a bonus completely out of context line for mitali!

“Because Han Solo is a slut, that’s why. Open the button.”

[fearlyssa]

Something to consider

In honor of Karlie’s birthday today here’s something for those who don't believe Taylor could be with Karlie because they chose to only believe Taylor’s own words: a list of the lyrics on Reputation (Taylor’s own words) that reference Karlie vs those that reference Joe. I tried my best to be impartial and include everything on both sides but just a warning it’s SUPER long! So if you don’t feel like reading it or don’t have the time then keep scrolling. But for anyone who’s interested here’s what I came up with (including explanations of the references and links if I have them; feel free to disagree or add any I missed, I tried to think of everything so I realize some may be a bit of a stretch)

Lyrics that point to Karlie:

Ready for it:

1. Younger than my exes (she’s 26 today, younger than most people Taylor has supposedly dated, male or female)

2. No one has to know (they’re closeted)

End Game:

3. We got big reputations (they’re both famous; Joe was relatively unknown until recently)

4. You and me would be a big conversation (they’re both famous and both women who are supposedly dating men so if they were found out - at least right now - it would cause a scandal)

Don't blame me:

5. I would cross the line, I would waste my time, I'd lose my mind

6. For you I would fall from grace, just to touch your face (This applies to the line above as well; her reputation would be ruined if people found out she was lying about her dating life causing her to “fall from grace” but she loves her enough to risk it by continuing to date her secretly)

7. I once was poison ivy but now I’m your Daisy (at first listen this line might sound like nothing more than a Mavel and/or Great Gatsby reference but according to this person they both like Marvel comics and check out how the daisy she drew in the handwritten lyrics in one of the Reputation magazines looks just like the one Karlie posted from their Big Sur trip in 2014. 👀

Delicate:

8. Dark jeans and your Nikes (she models for Adidas now but was doing Nike ads when they met)

9. Never seen that color blue (maybe a stretch but Karlie's eyes are a shade of green that can sometimes look blue so that may be a shade of blue she's never seen before. And I won’t add this to the list because it’s not Karlie-specific but the girls back home line is also not necessarily straight as lesbians and bisexuals, just like guys, date women and ‘back home’ can reference anyone who’s not from exactly where you’re from. They’re from different parts of the country for instance)

So it goes:

10. All eyes on us (they're both famous, have been on stage together three times and used to often be seen together by paps in public - which I do believe was on purpose; this line reminds me of the chorus of This is what you came for too)

11. Lipstick on your face (there's candids of Karlie with lipstick smudged on her face in pictures with Taylor from July 14th 2014 - as well as pictures of Taylor from her 25th birthday - and I believe another day too -, where she’s with Karlie and has on one shade of lipstick but a while has Karlie’s shade of lipstick smudged over hers and vice versa. Note how their lipstick looks in the top two photos from her birthday party compared vs the bottom two)

Gorgous:

12. I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk (the weird way Karlie says important)

13. Your magnetic field being a little too strong (they’re very physically affectionate with each other and often bump shoulders when sitting next to each other as if they literally have magnets in them)

14. I got a boyfriend, he's older than us (she often dates guys older than her and Karlie is younger than them and her. Imo it refers to her bearding with Calvin specifically)

15. You’re so Gorgeous I can’t say anything to your face (At VSFS 2013 where they first met Taylor looks in awe of her like she doesn’t know what to say. She definitely looks like she thinks she’s gorgeous and while the term could refer to anyone, it's usually a female descriptor and she's literally a model for a living who is known for her beauty and has, seemingly on purpose, used the word on IG right around when the song came out. And on an unrelated note I also want to point out that the ‘If you got a girlfriend’ line is not strictly male-oriented so although it’s not specifically Karlie-related it could still apply to a bisexual or lesbian woman)

King of my heart:

16. like trying on clothes (another somewhat female reference and she's a model so she does that for a living so therefore even more often than most people)

17. Move to me like a Motown beat (As mentioned in the caption of their IG post about it she & Karlie listened to Motown while getting ready for the Met Gala in 2014 so it's safe to say they’re both fans of the genre and enjoy listening to it together)

18. American queen (I know they're both American but Karlie has referred to her as an American dream before which you'll notice was the original lyrics when Taylor was writing & recording the song)

19. Your love is a secret I'm hoping, praying, dying to keep (this is pretty obvious but if she’s closeted then her love life is obviously a secret she’d want to keep)

20. Drinking beer out of plastic cups (I know this line is pretty general and she seems to be referring to a different time when she was up on a roof but it should be noted that the only time she’s been seen drinking beer in a plastic cup prior to the album coming out she was with Karlie)

Dress:

21. Our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you (you can see them having private moments at events in candid photos and videos such at award shows, the VSFS and at the 1975 concert. All times when tons of people were around but didn’t seem to notice or care if they were affectionate with each other because everyone knows they’re close and just thinks they’re friends)

22. Golden tattoo (they wore them together at Drake's birthday party last October. And maybe this is reaching but some of them were stars and “gold star” lesbians are those who have never “been with” a man, Idk about Taylor, but Karlie is rumored to be one.)

23. I don't want you like a best friend (they’re known as best friends so that one’s obvious)

24. I’m spilling wine in the bathtub (in the photo of her and Karlie getting ready for the Met Gala in 2014 you can see that Taylor has drunk wine in the bathroom with Karlie before)

25. Everyone thinks that they know us but they know nothing (A common problem when you’re famous because a lot of people know OF you but don’t really KNOW you or your relationships like they might think they do. She also references this in the album prologue but when it comes to Joe, not many people knew of him before he dated her so he doesn’t have a big reputation or people who think they know him) Dancing with our hands tied:

26. I loved you in secret (again sounds like it references being closeted)

27. 25 years old (Karlie’s age up until today and *almost* Taylor’s age when Kissgate happened)

28. People started talking putting us through our paces (again sounds like it refers to Kissate; people didn't talk about her and Joe, only the media did months later when the album was already finished and she says never to believe them anyway. Plus you have to wonder how they already knew of her secret relationship with him even before pictures had come out of them together)

29. I had a bad feeling...but we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied (they were dancing closely/kind of kissing at a 1975 concert in 2014 and someone got a video and pictures that made it into many articles starting Kissgate. You can see in pictures how upset Karlie and their friends looked walking back from the concert that night carrying a very drunk Taylor. Maybe she knew there'd be a shit storm about it the next day but didn't care and did it anyway because she was so drunk. Their hands would then have been tied metaphorically speaking and they would’ve had to do what they had to do which was to keep dating guys publicly and to stop being seen alone together)

30. I loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would decide us (as the world sometimes tries to do with gay relationships, not so much straight ones)

31. So baby can we dance, oh through an avalanche (same points as above ^)

Call it what you want:

32. My baby's fit like a daydream (I know "fit" is English slang but still, Karlie is quite physically fit - she literally ran a marathon like the day after the song came out and in the Vouge Best friends video Taylor mentions her shiny abs)

33. Walking with his head down (I realize she's not a man but being as tall as she is she does do that a lot)

34. So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to (some people say they're friends, others say they're in a romantic relationship, a lot of people think they broke up or are no longer friends and don’t even talk anymore etc.)

New Year's Day:

35. This is maybe a slight stretch but the references to a girl's party and polaroids that she often takes with her friends make me think of women and not really men, and as someone whose been to her house I can vouch that she has a lot of polaroids of her female friends; many of Karlie specifically displayed in her sitting room as well as a photo of them at Big Sur that she keeps in one of her bathrooms but not as many photos of guys who it’s hard to imagine would fit in all that well at a party like that but maybe that’s just me)

lyrics that refer to Joe:

In general:

1. The words he, him & his (and anything else masculine-sounding like the word handsome and king in reference to a current relationship. I guess this is a bunch of references but I didn’t actually count how many times she said he on the album because that would be a lot. lol):

Ready for it:

2. Younger than my exes (some of them anyway; her two most recent ones)

Don't blame me:

3. Toying with them older guys (he's younger than Calvin and Tom as is she however note that she's admitting to using them which seems like more of a reference to a bearding contract unless we're to believe she's admitting to being horrible to her exes)

Delicate:

4. never seen that color blue (his eyes are blue)

5. girls back home (they live in different counties)

So it goes:

6. wear you like a necklace (she has one with his initial on it. I’ve been told it’s a lesbian term as well but I didn’t add it to Karlie’s list as it’s not specific to her)

Gorgeous:

7. I got a boyfriend he's older than us -Sunset & vine (where his movie premiere was last October although we now know the song was written in September and interestingly enough the area is also well-known for it's gay bars)

King of my heart:

8. king of my heart (king is a male term and they have royalty in England)

9. Say you fancy me not fancy stuff (fancy is British slang for liking someone)

10. salute to me I'm your American queen (she’s American and he’s from the UK where they still have royalty)

Dress:

11. flashback when you met me your buzz cut, my hair bleached (if it's in fact true that they met at the Met Gala in 2016 that they both attended then that's a reference to the hairstyles they both had at the time though tbh the timeline doesn't really make sense for that to be true)

Call it what you want:

12. My baby's fit like a daydream (Fit is British slang for attractive and he's also physically fit)

13. Call it what you want (in reference to weather or not the relationship is real)

14. I want to wear his initial on a chain around my neck (because she wears a necklace with a J on it)

So there you go. I'm not saying you have to believe the album is about Karlie or not about Joe but there do appear to be a LOT more references to her so I'll just leave it up to you to decide what you want to believe, I just thought I'd post this to prove that there is in fact evidence to support Kaylor, it's not just a baseless conspiracy theory.

[mileycfan4eva33]

Fandom: SVU

Title: Covenant From The Heart

Chapter 1: Violent Moment

P O V: Amanda Rollins

(A/N: Noah, Jessie, Billie do not exist in this fic. I own nothing except my ideas and original characters. All others belong to Wolf Entertainment and NBC.)

Saturday, June 2020

Christopher Street, New York, NY

"I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in words

how wonderful life is while you're in this world."

The radio plays as I sit inside the back of the Covenant House Van across from my Captain Olivia Benson, along with two trained Crisis Counselors from Covenant House, New York. Andrea O'Sullivan and Robert "Bobby J" Rodriquez. "Thanks for coming again with me, Amanda."

My smile is tight as I look back at Olivia there is a sadness in her eyes as we turn towards each other. "You're welcome, Liv, did Kat give any reason as to why she couldn't make it tonight?" "her mom has to work a double, and they couldn't find a babysitter last minute on a Saturday."

"Yeah, I hear that could be hard." Olivia sips her coffee, trying to keep warm. "I never mind helping Captain. Covenant House is such an amazing place Olivia, I'm always happy to volunteer for whatever they need."

"Thank you, detective Rollins we try. It isn't easy when we have 20,494 youth who are homeless." Andy's statement sends tremors down my spine. I try to hide the fact that I am shivering, as a cop, I knew those statistics. The number of homeless children in the United States is at its highest in more than a decade.

I can even break down the statistics that roughly 800,000 children are reported missing each year in the United States that's 2,000 kids who go missing every day in the USA. There are 115 child stranger abduction cases, LGBTQ youth represent as much as 40% of the homeless youth population. Between 1.6-2.8 million youth runaway each year in the United States. Children can begin running as young as ages 10-14. The youngest are the most at-risk for the dangers of street life.

Too many people take the attitude of Children who runaway make their own decisions to go. Let them be, they've made their personal choice and must deal with the consequences. If they want to come home, they will. That is so wrong because once these kids hit the streets, they have hours of reaching an inner-city before they become targets for these pimps. Once the pimps get their hands on these kids, they no longer have a choice. They are property of those pimps, and these monsters would take a bullet before they lose their 'product.' It is estimated that many young people, especially girls, begin engaging in survival sex within 48 hours of leaving home. Sex for food and a place to stay can quickly escalate into formalized prostitution.

I've seen what happens to those kids after becoming branded; they learn quickly to harden themselves and trust no one. The treacherous environment in which they must learn to survive is heartbreaking. They do not always outwardly present as sympathetic victims. They also frequently suffer from short–term and long–term psychological effects such as depression, self-hatred, and feelings of hopelessness. These child victims also need specialized services that are not widely available given they often have illnesses, drug addictions, physical and sexual trauma, lack of viable family and community ties, and total dependence—physical and psychological—on their abusers.

"Amanda, do you want some coffee?" "no, thanks, Liv, I'm good." "Sure you are; that's why I can see those goosebumps on your arms, Rollins." Olivia's left-hand grazes across my left arm, which she has now caused to go stiff in fear. Olivia's touch, smile Liv has no idea how she effects me.

Every hair is standing at attention, my heart racing, face flushed. My brain stutters to find words to respond to Olivia. It should be simple to say those words to tell Olivia how I feel; this is 2020, not 1990. I shouldn't be afraid of rejection to tell someone I have a deep crush on that I have a crush. I've told more than a half of a dozen women in my past that I liked them. I am not ashamed to identify as a lesbian.

Which brings me to question why I haven't confided in anyone I have worked with over the past nine years. Swallow Amanda, just swallow and relax. Olivia has no idea how you feel; she isn't asking you to spill how you feel. She's asking you for a drink stop freaking out you'll look like a fool.

"No, I'm good save the coffee for the kids, they need it more than I do. I'm okay."

"Detective Rollins we have more than enough." that's a lie I know before it even escapes Andy's lips she's just being nice to us since it's rare for cops to volunteer to do ride a long's, the department does not sanction them. 1PP truthfully goes out of their way to discourage us from doing them because they are so dangerous because these pimps could recognize one of us and blow our covers in the future. Sometimes I think they fear we will become too sympathetic with a homeless kid because God forbid NYPD cops be human and understand what life on the streets is actually like; we might let these kids go when indeed we are forced to pick them up for simply trying to stay alive.

Saturday nights are one of the busiest nights in New York City, especially for the homeless population in our impact zones. Turning down Bleeker Street, which is alive with nightclubs blaring music. Flashing neon signs obnoxiously calling out $2 dance bars—other signs signaling their bars, clubs, stores. Panhandlers line every corner, many with bloodshot eyes, sniffling noses, and scanning the crowd from our blackened windows. I can see swindlers working in pairs trying to rob the tourists who unsuspectingly stroll among them the glittering, neon buildings. Many are walking with cell phones out, looking for directions.

Olivia and I both exchange a look knowing half of them will be robbed. There's so much we both want to say but don't. Drug deals go down in plain sight to the untrained eye. It would be easily missed, in between the blaring lights and smells of Colombian bakeries, beauty salons, Mexican restaurants, and bars like the Gentlemen's Club advertising beautiful female dancers. People along this stretch of road hand out business cards emblazoned with half-naked women or fruits and flowers all that advertise "Free Delivery" and typically list the hours of operation between 10:30 a.m. and 2:30 a.m. It's a cover, of course, the cards are marketing tools of brothels that have set up shop inside private homes and apartments.

As the hour is growing later, the tourists are fading away; the clubs are starting to shut down, and the other Christopher Street, the one never mentioned in magazines, or featured on the nightly news and morning talk shows comes alive. This is our Christopher Street teens strutted past in the dark, often stopping to air kiss, catcall, or sometimes brawl.

Young LGBTQ youth in platform thigh-high boots, buttocks-revealing denim shorts, red-pleather boleros with matching caps and tops of the backless, sleeveless, or even frontless variety, those on the nightly parade here do anything but hide. They compete for best outfit, /best moves in nightly dance battles that rage beside the Hudson River to the sound of a boombox on the pier at the end of the street.

The teens are beautiful, but the night-life here is ugly, violent, and scary; the teens themselves often fight turning violent. Customers drunk throw glasses, bottles, or try to take the girls, ripping hair out, beating them. Not every person working is trying to cause problems; of course, there are many just trying to get by to pay rent that now topples over $3,000. I can barely afford my apartment in Brooklyn with my salary.

Cops are lining every street, but we are not here as cops Olivia and I are riding with the covenant house team to help them reach the kids whoa re too afraid to find Covenant House or don't know that help exists. We are reaching to find kids who need food, warmth, and shelter. We provide sandwiches, beverages, ears to the kids if they are ready to tell their stories.

In the van we provide education about sex, pregnancies, STD prevention, we give them condoms. We let them cry, scream, ask questions, or sit in silence; we let the kids choose what they need when they need it. Many have never been given a choice of anything in their lives. We gain the kids' trust and, when ready, we will get them to our crisis shelters, where they're given love and support to permanently stay off the streets. Some stay only a few days and decide they aren't ready to give up the life they know. They have to be willing to be drug-free and make other commitments to stay at Covenant House. Some, however, remain with Covenant House and complete the whole program.

Frequently it takes multiple interactions before the kids will trust those of us on the outreach team enough to accept our offers of help they've simply been burned by adults too many times in their lives.

"So Captain Benson, my boss tells me you've been coming on these rides along's since you joined SVU in 1999. Any specific reasons?"

Andy's question perks my interests in the nine years I have known Olivia; I have never known the answer to this question myself. For the first six years, when I went on these outreach trips, I never knew she went along. I only found out three years ago when we were paired together by accident on a night when they had more volunteers than vans. I never asked myself for fear of having to answer the same question back; it's a part of my past. I have kept hidden for many years. I have no intention of starting to share that story now.

"I was on the job about two months with Special Vics when we came across the case of a fourteen-year-old girl who we had to arrest for selling drugs to her classmates, sometimes in exchange for sexual favors. The whole Squad called her Spoiled Sally because she came from the upper west side, went to a private school. She had all the advantages of a rich kid, yet she chose to squander her life by selling drugs."

"You thought there was more to her story though, Olivia, didn't you?"

"You know me well, Amanda." Olivia has no idea how well I know her how I have spent my whole adult life, and most of my teens years studying her career trying to be half the cop she is. Olivia has no idea that I listen to every conversation hoping to gather a new detail I didn't know already. I know her favorite, color, movie, TV show, her worst fears, her dreams. I know which ice cream flavor she likes best, her favorite spot for ice cream, who her favorite baseball team is, and which sport she hates the most. I know Olivia uses vanilla body lotion but hates vanilla ice cream.

My body shivers despite being June. The temperature is dropping fast the later it gets. "I did think there was more, so I started investigating further. Interviewing her friends, teachers, classmates. Came to learn Sally transferred schools six times over the last year, she had moved from city to city since she was six years old."

Olivia bites her lower lip as she laughs slightly "Amanda you'll love this part, my boss told me to drop it, or he would transfer me, I couldn't drop it, I defied his orders and kept digging. I matched her picture into enhanced facial recognizing came to discover our Spoiled little Sally was Marcella Marginals, a kidnapped girl from Mexico who vanished at age six when her family was on vacation over there. They let go of her hands for two minutes, and she was snatched. Marcella was smuggled into different cities by different men. Who caged her up like an animal beat her raped her, sold her from family to family."

"This last family was an elderly couple who never had kids of their own; the man who sold her to them kept weekly checks on her forced her to sell drugs for him. Raped her weekly to keep her in-line raped the wife weekly to keep the parents quite. When we went to collect Marcella, the bastard was there raping the wife, the husband an 82-year-old man who could barely move was tied to the chair. A battle broke out between the police and the pimp, Marcella was shot in the battle, by my gun. I was devastated. I felt as if it was my fault if I had left it alone, as my boss told me. Marcella would be alive no matter how hard her life was, at least she drew breath. Because of me, that sweet girl was dead."

"All my co-workers kept telling me it wasn't my fault; it was just part of the job. I had to accept it as God's plan. I couldn't though, I mean, how did God see that to be fair? How could any God justify a fourteen-year-old girl being raped, beaten suffering every day as okay?"

"So I headed to my favorite bar to get there I had to pass the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, I wasn't raised in any dominant religion growing up, but I felt drawn to it. I felt like I needed to talk to God, to let him know how angry I was at him."

"At first, all I could do was sit there, staring at the candles, the altar, tears running down my face. I have no idea how long I sat there for; till I felt the gentle touch of Sister Mary Rose McGeady, she sat by me and listened to me. Then she said something to me that has stayed with me my whole life; she replied ours is not to ask God why; ours is simply to close our eyes and listen to our hearts, and believe God always has a reason why. It's hard at times, but I made a promise to God to listen; he has to lead me to my calling to help kids on the street, his kids."

"As you know at the time, Sister McGeady was the president of Covenant House from 1990-2003. She took me to the house and showed me the center; I spoke to counselors, volunteers, and the kids themselves. I fell in love with the mission, with the kids the staff. I knew I had to try to make a difference."

"I started doing the outreach van around 12 years ago, at first, it was just because it was always so short-staffed, not many people volunteer to do something so dangerous. Then it became another passion for me."

I reach over and take Olivia's hand "you know Marcella's death wasn't your fault, Liv. No more than Easter's was mine."

"I know Amanda, up here, I know that." She points to her head, "But in here." Olivia's hand moves to her heart. "that takes reminding I am sorry I couldn't comfort you after telling you about Easter, I should have held you talked to you instead of getting up and walking away. The memories of that day hit me so hard; I think I am moving on, and then I am hit with a wave of guilt so intense it takes my breath away."

"Liv, it's okay. I needed my Captain than you did what I needed. You gave me time to cry, scream you stayed in the room, so I knew you were there, but you gave me privacy. No one can take someone else to pain away. But having you in that room brought me comfort."

Olivia smiles at me as Bobby J speaks "You two should come Tuesday for our annual Sleep-out for Covenant House, we have a line-up of stars who are performing and over 1,000 people who have signed up to raise money for our kids by sleeping out."

"Yeah, sounds good, Amanda?" "I'm in for sure."

"So Miss southern sweet tea, what is your story? I know you got one." My body tenses at his suggestion I feel all eyes on me my heart races as my stomach twists. How am I suppose to get out of this one? "Don't be bashful to spill your game." Bobby J nudges me as I fight to keep my nausea from spilling out onto the van's floor. If Olivia knew the truth, she would never look at me the same ever again.

"Help me!" Loud, intense screams ricochet off the buildings in the side-street where we are parked; a young girl comes racing out of the cover of darkness shadow. So fast her legs stumble, but she doesn't allow herself to fall; she can't she's running for her life. Those skinny legs barely hold her body up, yet she hurls herself forward, never glancing back. I can hear her heavy breathing as she approaches "not here." she points to two streets over. Eyes glance at us. I see the pain and fear "My man he's watching he'll see me get in, I'm dead then, he'll know where to find me."

She's gone in a flash, hurling her skinny body down the side streets in a race for her life, dodging into different avenues. The van squeals to life as our driver Michelle steps on the gas, the girl's arms pump flying as she dodges cars, people she isn't quitting or playing. It's pitch black out here now except the glow of a few broken street lights.

Michelle flips off our headlights as we reach the street the girl wanted us to, we sit in silence the radio shut off now. Our heartbeats are the only sounds slowly. I get out my legs a little shaky from being crouched in a van for hours. Olivia follows me closely behind as seconds tick into minutes both of us praying her man as she called him didn't find her, which we know damn well means her pimp. Rustling has us both turning around I spot her first she comes running full speed towards us, fooling her pimp she had run around the block twice; New York blocks ain't no joke either, they are long.

This girl is in eight-inch heels her feet must hurt so bad I feel tears well up I can barely walk in those types of heels nerve mind run. The girl is only twenty- yards away from us. I can see the depth of fear in her cyan blue eyes. An ocean deep of pain she is so close to safety just within feet of being saved Olivia and I are both tense ready to grab her up. The squeals of tires alert us to a sense of danger; I don't think twice I take off "Rollins!" Olivia yells as I pump my legs harder than they have ever been pumped before. Hoping that this girl can see it in my eyes that she can trust me, she can reach better days if she reaches out, allows me to take her hands. Gets in this van with me, I can help her find the sunshine behind these rainy days. Sometimes one person can make a difference. I close my eyes every day I pray I can be that person.

My hands reach the girl at the very last second my lungs are screaming in pain, I can barely breathe my muscles are straining with every-step. "Grab my hands, don't let go no matter what I got you." My arms wrap around the girl's frail body as my feet make a sudden turn burning my heels. I pull her body racing to the van as doors fly open. "Rollins, get down!" Olivia screams as a hail of bullets rain down on us I push the girl into the van slam the door and bang on it. Michelle takes off my legs give out as I crash to the ground Olivia is returning fire. I can't breathe or think my legs are twitching in pain I can feel my blood filling my mouth as I start to cough.

I can't seem to focus on anything. Every breath is harder to inhale and exhale. "Amanda, it's Olivia we've got to move, they took off, but they'll be back we just cost them a major investment. Can you move at all?"

Olivia's arms lift me pain stabs me at every angle it's mild though so after a few breaths I can put pressure on my legs she doesn't let go of my arm though pulling me along with her as we race to meet the van a few blocks over. Sweat pours down my body as my stomach cramps I feel flushed. I'm losing blood I can feel how weak I am, but I have no idea where or how serious it is. "Amanda that was stupid as hell, we are off-duty you know the department does not cover any injury you get, any action you take as a citizen which means you face the same charges they face. No union rep to cover for you."

"Yeah, I know Liv, and it also means I don't have to play by the rules."

"Amanda, it doesn't mean you get to risk your life."

"It's mine to risk Olivia, and if you ain't willing to risk your life, why are you out here?"

"Uh! Why are all the bad-asses so damn stubborn!"

"That's what makes us hot."

"Yeah, I know that's why the bad-asses like you are always the one who looks the most fuckable."

My ears ring did Olivia Benson just say she wanted to what with me? I stop moving physically, yet my Vertigo didn't get the message. I can't speak all I can do is stare at Olivia, watch her long legs so muscular her statuesque frame so lean and beautiful, long dark hair loosely held back with a decorative clip. Her appearance takes my breath away. She smiles as she slowly moves us towards the van.

All I can do is picture her lying on top of me on her bed as she places her mouth over my clit. A direct hit, her gorgeous lips closing around it and lapping at it with her tongue. Her hands hold my hips as I try to buck against her face; she is a master at getting me off like this. I can feel an orgasm building in my walls, I can feel the heat rising as I writhe under her face, and just as she is about to push me over the edge, she inserts a single slender finger inside as she does I feel the first wave of fire rising and spreading through me. I come hard onto her hand as she rapidly pumps two fingers in and out while she sucks on my clit.

"Amanda, move!" My head peaks up from the daydream of Olivia, and I making love seconds too late as the car comes speeding towards us headlights as bright as the Georgia summer sun. Michelle rushes towards us, Andy and Bobby J throw open the doors. "Get in!" Olivia's hands push my body into the van's. I feel Andy and Bobby grab me pulling my limp body up as Olivia screams at Michelle. to"Go."

Wait, where is Olivia going? Why didn't she get in with me? Gunfire fills the air as I try to stand but am thrown back against the wall hard as Michelle takes off, tires squealing. "Calvin!" I hear Olivia's scream as my head slams into the floor, sending me crashing into a world of blackness. All I can do is pray; God keep Olivia safe.

A/N: For More information on how you can help Covenant House and Homeless Youth visit their website

Our Youth deserve a kinder, better world than the one we have today. Let us commit to building this world together. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13643440/1/Covenant-From-The-Heart

[the-revisionist]

Hi! Just to say, I LOVE your fics! Could you possibly write Things you said on New Year's Eve for Caroline and Gillian? If that's not a good one, then literally any of them will do I'm sure you'll write it perfectly! Thank you

Anon, hope you’re still reading…thank you for kind words and the prompt! Sorry this took longer than anticipated! 

This is a companion piece to “Completely Undressed and Mostly Sober in the South of France.”  @farminglesbian had suggested a continuation of that in some way and since she controls the Lesbian Empire on the European Continent in an Unspecified Rural Location Where They Are Inclined to Wear Lederhosen I must obey or I may never be allowed in Europe ever again.  

This story is a bit of an exercise in style. For dialogue I did not use traditional quote marks. So, you know, it might work, it might not, it’s OK and you can say so, I’m a big girl and I have a lot of wine at the ready, but please don’t be a twat about it. 

This one is post-series 4. 

faithful misrepresentations

i. it’s time to get the brioches

At 5 a.m. on New Year’s Eve, she apologizes for not shaving her legs.

The morning, blue and black with jagged frost etched across a darkened windowpane, rests at the edge of Caroline’s mind. It’s so terrifyingly early that she doesn’t really want to know the time but cracks open a reluctant eye anyway; the bedroom’s digital clock coolly burns a 5:05 on the inside of her eyelids, the blunt serifs morph into an SOS and she thinks, good God, I am awake at 5 in the morning, this is what I get for sleeping with a farmer. Because Gillian stirs warm and restless against her, driven by the undeniable rhythm of blood that always has her racing against the sunrise and who, because she is apparently the master of not only the unwanted spontaneous confession but also the truly baffling nonsequitur, opts not to say good morning but rather randomly and needlessly apologizes for not shaving her legs before this, their trip to France.

Blind as a kitten, Caroline reaches for her and, half-asleep through a tangle of warm limbs, hones in on her calf; the soft hair tickles, the solid muscle undulates, the raspy glory of skin warms Caroline’s palm. There is a scar on this calf, invisible in the dark but vivid in her mind as a distinct but delicate comet tracing a pale horizon. It was, Gillian told her, caused by a jutting, broken spoke on a wheelbarrow.

That’s when I learned not to do farm work while wearing shorts, she had said.  

Caroline replies to the apology by mumbling don’t mind into a pillow; sleepiness translates it into dun mime. She’s cresting the wave back into sleep when she realizes that Gillian is not moving, not rising out of bed with a stretch and a groan and a curse word. Which is odd, because Gillian likes routine. Every morning they’ve been here she’s up before the sun, making herself tea, reading for a bit, and then walking a mile to the village to fetch brioches from a baker amusedly tolerant of an Englishwoman who flirts with her grown son and insists on conversing in rusty French. By the time she returns the brioches are stone cold but she revives them in the oven, makes coffee, and wakes up Caroline by cannonballing onto the bed like a kid on holiday. Winter clings to her skin and clothes but her morning kiss is persistent and sweet and like waking into a warm, summery daydream and not a chilly old French farmhouse lacking proper heat.

She forces herself into a higher level of coherence, clears her throat, firms up a question: You’re not getting up?

Not yet, comes the reply.  

In the dark she aims badly for Gillian’s forehead and gently smashes her palm against a nose.

Are you sick?

No. It’s just—we don’t have much time left. Here, I mean. Want to enjoy it.

They return home the day after tomorrow.

By staying in bed as long as possible, Gillian adds as needless clarification.

Under two blankets and a comforter movement is heavy and surreal, a sluggishly sensual underwater ballet. The blankets move as Gillian slides on top of her, exposing Caroline’s shoulder to a rousing chill, which is briefly warmed by Gillian’s mouth before moving along the inlet of the collarbone toward her breast. She spreads her legs, Gillian settles in between them and presses into her, and even though it’s all so new between them—so wonderfully new, she thinks, as Gillian traces the inside of her thigh—she identifies the variance in tempos and moods better now and knows this time will be slow and sweet and hopefully she won’t bang her skull against the quasi-antique headboard again.

You’re giving up brioches for me?

Nah. I’ll get ’em later. Just delaying gratification, as it were.

So—how delayed is gratification when all you’re doing is merely sublimating it with another pleasure?

Even though they can barely see one another in the porous dark, a bluish outline of morning light traces the contours of Gillian’s face and hair and Caroline can see a hitch of expression, a shift of lines as she smiles.

Shut up, you, she says.

ii. continental beauty

For one horrible aching moment—while wiping down a quartz countertop aged to such an extent that it looks as if it’s survived a hundred years of everyday bacchanals, and this is why housework is dangerous and housewives go mad, she thinks, it sets the mind loose to dwell on so much of life’s chaotic cruelty—Caroline realizes that she never had this opportunity with Kate, that is, a long romantic getaway and not just a mucky weekend at a nearby hotel. Even on that modest level she fucked it up nearly beyond repair. Even on vacation with her husband of eighteen years always she felt—she knew—she was a fraud, nothing but a character in one of his novels. Maybe it’s a sign; maybe it means something. Here in this farmhouse in the Rhone Valley hundreds of miles away from home, she waits for the shoe to fall into a dreaded Grand Canyon of unspecified anxiety.

They spent months not talking about what they needed to talk about. It was easy enough to blame a host of things for this: demanding work schedules involving obstreperous students and sheep, parenting thickheaded boys, coparenting a toddler with a knobhead whose taste in women was obviously on the decline, a bountiful supply of excellent wine from a beautiful young woman who simply would not go away, and complete, sheer cowardice. Acceptance of the status quo has always come easily to Caroline, particularly in this instance because she was getting good wine and properly laid on a regular basis—thus her mother’s interrogations and condemnations, her secretary’s prurient questions (“You have it off with Brokeback Shepherd yet?”), and generally everyone’s bewilderment and clumsy emotional tap-dancing around the subject were all easily ignored.

Then last month, during one of those boisterous family dinners where, as was not uncommon, Gillian looked at her in an indescribably aching way—followed by a self-chastising frown, slight shake of the head, and a protective hunch of her shoulders that seemingly closed off any possibility of rapprochement—Gary announced to all present that renovations to his vacation home in France were finally complete. During this interminable period he had gone from referring to the house as a chateau to deeming it a money pit. It was actually an eighteenth-century stone farmhouse, its interior now as rustically authentic as one envisioned by a nouveau riche entrepreneur from Yorkshire, and Caroline twitchingly recalled Gillian’s proposal earlier in the spring—that they would go there for a few days during the summer and work shit out. But summer ripened and withered away and the promise, representing everything that was seemingly lost between them, lingered bitterly.

After dinner Caroline stood in the doorway of Gillian’s kitchen observing their motley, contented family—Raff playing Legos with Calamity and Flora, Lawrence attempting to show his grandfather and Gary how to play Halo Wars 2 on an Xbox, and Celia, post-two glasses of wine, going on about the life of the theater to the clearly bored yet admirably patient Ellie. She felt Gillian’s presence at her side—churning and restless as a spoon stirring a pot, staring at her feet, then a lamp, then her son, and finally fixing that burning gaze of hers on the woman next to her while the back of her hand glided over Caroline’s knuckles, thus causing the latter to force out a surprising hybrid of a squeak and a gasp.

Let’s—let’s do it, she said. Come with me to France.

Five minutes later they were purchasing plane tickets on the mobile.

Five days into this trip she has learned many things about Gillian: she slavishly embraces routine whenever possible, she likes brioches, she’s reading Middlemarch for the third time now but Caroline cannot imagine why because she herself has never made it past page 50, she’s capable of lingering over a cup of tea and not gulping it down because she’s not running late or has a hundred things to do in a day, she thinks MI6 was involved in Princess Diana’s death, she’s takes no firm side in the great over vs. under toilet roll debate—don’t people have anything better to do than argue about toilet paper? she had said—

—and she is an admirer of great beauty because now she barrels through the door after tromping around the countryside for an hour and breathlessly announces, I’m in love.

Caroline imagines herself unseeded by either the baker’s handsome son or the buxom young woman who works the vineyard nearby, the latter spotted the other day during a wine-tasting tour and whose sumptuous cleavage was the focus of surreptitious glances from Gillian. After half a lifetime of stealthily admiring the physical beauty of women, Caroline knows these covert maneuvers when she sees them. Alas, all she has to counter these continental beauties are certain oral skills and her talent for making a certain orange-ginger biscuit that Gillian loves and who knows, perhaps that will save the day, perhaps even as sun perpetually sets on the English empire all that truly matters is cunnilingus, tea, and biscuits.

I’m confident of your ability to attract, she wants to tell Gillian. But not my ability to hold you.

But while hanging up her coat Gillian starts rambling about a ram, a sheep with a fancy French name. She saw him posing on a hillside, broodingly apart from the herd, a Heathcliff among sheep. His markings and coloring exquisite, his horns symmetrical, his poise exceptional—

Before Gillian can declare herself high priestess of this mythic creature’s cult, Caroline—dimly aware of the unseemliness of jealousy over a sheep—interrupts rudely: What’s it called again? A rum-ball merino?

Gillian rolls her eyes. Rambouillet, she says. She grabs a cup for tea. A Rambouillet merino.

Ripe for plucking, the word hangs in the air and Caroline ravenously seeks its source in a kiss. She holds Gillian’s lower lip gently between her teeth, tongue running the plush length of it, tasting salt and mystery because, frankly, women have always been unfathomable to her.  Sweetly, wonderfully unfathomable. She starts to unbutton Gillian’s thick, lined plaid shirt—only to discover, underneath, a second plaid shirt thin and soft with age. At which she breaks off the kiss and bursts into laughter.

Jesus Christ, you’re like a flannel onion. Layers and layers.

It’s cold, in case you haven’t noticed, Gillian says—also laughing—as she sits the empty cup on the counter.

I’m trying to warm you up, Caroline replies as she sets in on the second flannel layer. In case you haven’t noticed.

Tossing her arms around Caroline’s neck and pulling her into another kiss, another embrace, Gillian says, I’ve noticed.

She doesn’t feel too distressed about fucking Gary’s sister on Gary’s distressed leather couch—burnished leather, she thinks he called it and the color was Churchill cigar—because there is an old blanket on it and as they fall onto it she doesn’t care about much at the moment except the wonderments and sensations of skin and taste, wondering if Gillian has ever called anyone else baby, Caroline can’t quite imagine that she has and would like to reserve that titular honor as her very own, wondering when the last time someone went down on her properly because her reaction and sheer enjoyment of it make Caroline feel like Aphrodite incarnate coming down from on high and she has to cling to Gillian as if she’s riding a rollercoaster by the skin of her teeth.

Afterward she’s sprawled on the couch wrapped in the comforter Gillian dragged out the bedroom, staring at the crisscross of the ceiling’s dark wood roof beams and with her head pillowed on Gillian’s bare thigh. With one flannel shirt back on, Gillian sits cross-legged while drinking one of Gary’s very pricey local Syrahs and pretending to read Middlemarch, pretending because she’s humming, which she usually does while absorbed in the comforting repetition of a task like washing dishes or mending a shirt or soothing a baby and in this instance the task at hand seems to be slowly, rhythmically running her fingers through Caroline’s hair. I like your—your hair, she had said the other day, shy and stammering and nervous after they made love, as if the gentle offering of a compliment would somehow be virulently rejected, and while Caroline loved the sweet awkwardness of it she hated the man who made Gillian terrified of revealing the slightest vulnerability.

She stares at the shadowed, foreboding ceiling beams, thinks that Gary should have picked a wood of a lighter color because the dark beams make her think of crucifixions.

Say it again, she says to Gillian.

What?

The name of the sheep.

Rambouillet.

Oh, she sighs, that’s lovely.

Unexpectedly Gillian drags her finger, damp and dribbling Syrah, across Caroline’s lips, as if soothing an infant with a taste of milk. You’re really weird, she says.

I’m not the one in love with a sheep, Caroline replies.

iii. the search for intelligent ovine life in the Rhone Valley

The afternoon winter sun, useless and pale, emanates as much heat as the moon. They are out in search of the great Rambouillet merino. Gillian insists she needs to get a better photo of the sheep so she can submit it to something called “Google sheep view” and Caroline, who is perfectly fine with not knowing what the hell that is, is nonetheless curious to know what the fuss is about and accompanies her. Leading the mission, Gillian stalks the dirt backroad that runs behind Gary’s farmhouse with her usual dogged, determined pace. She’s been in a bit of a mood since lunchtime and Caroline knows enough to let her be until she’s ready to talk; it’s likely, though, that she dreads the thought of returning home to the questions, the judgments, the expectations that will be laid at their feet.

She trails behind. Outside of the Yorkshire countryside she has navigated most of her life, her sense of direction is rubbish and she hasn’t a clue where they really are. She sighs and burrows deeper into her scarf. It’s the coldest day of the trip thus far. The stiff, expensive boots she purchased for the trip are pinching her toes and the too-high arches dig into her soles. In the distance she sees the vineyard that they visited days ago, the spherical red caps of the buildings distinct against the pale sky, and has a wince-inducing guilty thought about Olga.

Shortly after committing to this journey, she officially ended it with Olga. It was not so much a breakup as an act of disengagement; some days she actually convinces herself of this. Regardless it required some semblance of fortitude to finally override the guilt-ridden, passive-aggressive lust that propelled the relationship on her part. Olga took it well. She also took a case of an amazing Chenin Blanc from the Loire Valley that she had initially gifted to Caroline and now presumably would bestow upon another boozy, middle-aged lesbian—or, more likely, her ex—both nonetheless worthy of her considerable charm and refined palate, while leaving Caroline to the tender mercies of a sheep farmer overfond of cheap Lambrusco.

She stops for a moment to look at red roofs jutting into milk-white clouds and dwell in the newness of everything—place and memory, time and love—while accepting the sense of loss that perpetually nips at her heels. Snow flurries waltz to the ground.

Then she notices that up ahead on the road Gillian has stopped and turned around. Head tilted, she critically eyes Caroline as she would a lagging, miscreant ewe—as if to say, come along now.

Grimacing, Caroline takes long strides to catch up. She apologizes on arrival, insincerity muffled through the cashmere scarf.

Gillian carries a long, sturdy branch found earlier on the road. Alternately she’s been using it as a walking stick and brandishing it as a weapon, whacking at husked, brittle weeds lining the road, sadistically poking at stones. Idly she whips it around her body while frowning at Caroline.

What were ya doing back there? she asks.

Contemplating life’s mysteries. Appreciating the sublimity of nature. Oh, and staring at your ass. Not necessarily in that order.

Bashful at the compliment, Gillian lowers her head and grins. Then, wryly: So you weren’t stopping ’cause those boots are hurting you?

Not a bit, Caroline lies.

You’re limping, she says, and then nods in the direction of the winery. D’ya think they send out Saint Bernards with little wine flasks to rescue snotty English bitches who don’t wear proper footwear whilst they wander about the countryside?

That would be marvelous.

Gillian points up ahead at a copse of trees. The gesture is so startling and beautiful and confident that Caroline wants to seize her hand—ungloved, snowflake caught and melting on her thumbnail—and kiss it.

Right up there, she says, past those trees, is a shortcut through the wood to the vineyard. If you can make it, we could walk there. Couple glasses might revive you for the walk home.

And if it doesn’t?

Reckon I’ll have to drag you back somehow.

Cavewoman.

Nah. I’m not that strong, Gillian says with a roll of her shoulders, but I’ll give it a go.

Au contraire.

That’s the first bit of French out of your mouth since we got here.

You’ve been doing well enough for both of us, Caroline says, so why bother? She leans into Gillian, quietly pleased at the arm that automatically wraps around her waist. Then she presses her face into the crown of Gillian’s hair, kisses it, and says, I’ve always believed—she begins shakily, pauses clumsily—always known—you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.

Gillian pulls back and stares at her, unsure if what she’s saying is an obvious revelation or a faithful misrepresentation of the brutal facts that comprise her life. She thinks that Gillian usually skews toward the latter as a default viewpoint, and realizes it may take a lifetime for her to sort it, to undo it. If ever. What surprises Caroline is not this but the belief, settling into her bones and countering her own misguided self-assessments, that she is finally brave enough to be fully present in Gillian’s life.  

On the walk home, both of them tipsy and tired, they see the Rambouillet merino ambling across an open field into the setting sun. And he is beautiful.

[citycfangels]

text: casey ⇄ adriana⇄ raquel

Casey: on a scale of no big deal to trump and kim jong il almost starting a nuclear war how big of a fuck up would you say sleeping with your ex is?

Adriana: that depends on the ex, which one of them are you talking about?

Raquel: if you say Eric, I think we have the right to disown you.

Raquel: I’d also say it’s less of a mess up and more of like a mental break down a la Britney Spears.

Casey: okay first off not everyone can have an abnormally perfect relationship like you Raquel and second Aide you aren’t even with someone right now.

Casey: so it was Eric. It’s not that bad right?

Adriana: ouch, thank you for reminding me i'm single

Adriana: yes Casey, it's bad. i get that he's hot and the bad boy attitude can be attractive, but he's an asshole. and i barely use that word

Raquel: You can’t use the word abnormal and perfect in the same sentence, they cancel each other out. And yes, I’m in a relationship but that didn’t come without hard work.

Raquel: I’m with Aide on this one. I don’t know what you see in him.

Casey: it’s not like you have to be single. You can always just go and hook up with a guy.

Casey: you guys act like he was the worst. He wasn’t that bad was he? I’m not texting for a lecture guys.

Casey: he’s just really good in bed.

Adriana: i haven't found the person yet, but that's not the point

Adriana: visually he's a 9, but come on, you're too good for him

Adriana: you're not having feeling for him again, right? because i'd be worried

Raquel: eventually you’ll find the right guy. He’s out there.

Raquel: giving him a nine is still giving him too much credit. He’s like a 7 even in just the looks department.

Adriana: let's not talk about me and my love life, thank you so much

Adriana: oh honey, don't do that. just no. not him

Adriana: not even if the sex is amazing

Adriana: if you ever go back with that idiot i will be seriously rethinking my choice on friends

Casey: Just know that if you don't get a date in a month we're singing you up for online dating.

Casey: No one said getting back together. I still hate him.

Casey: maybe I should just start dating women. Quit men cold turkey. That could also solve your dating problem Aide. What do you say? be in lesbians with me?

Raquel: yeah, we'll sign you up for online dating.

Raquel: and leave me as the third wheel? Get your own gay Casey. No incestuous relationships within our circle.

Raquel: yeah, we'll sign you up for online dating.

Raquel: and leave me as the third wheel? Get your own gay Casey. No incestuous relationships within our circle.

Adriana: i hate you, girls 😑😑😑😑

Adriana: good, or else i hit you. and maybe him too

Adriana: woah there baby, i want dinner and flowers first 😘

Adriana: Quel, you have Charlie, what are you talking about?

Raquel: you love us.

Raquel: I don't believe in violence but you both can expect a mean cold shoulder.

Raquel: Charlie isn't you guys. Yes I'm dating someone but that doesn't mean I suddenly neglect you two. At least I don't think i do.

Raquel: Do I neglect you guys?

Casey: you don't hate us at all.

Casey: Oh, was I not making it obvious? I totally am flirting. Me actually dating a model, how can I not try to get at that.

Casey: Oh you totally neglect us for Charlie, and you can tell him I said that.

Raquel: CUT IT OUT.

Raquel: already did tell him and sleeping with Eric has made you bitchy.

Adriana: tell him hi!

Adriana: and i hate to say this, but i agree. tell me that was the last time, please

Raquel: guys are you sure you don't want to just talk to him?

Raquel: yeah, last time because if he's just going to make you bitchy then he's not doing something right.

Casey: okay, I get it. Not Eric fans.

Casey: Last time.

Adriana: nope, not really

Adriana: if he was that good in bed, you should be happier at least, unless he didn't give you an orgasm

Raquel: okay just making sure.

Raquel: well it wouldn't be the first time...

Casey: okay does everyone know that that's a kink of mine or....

Casey: well I could always help with that 😉

Adriana: we do.

Adriana: dirty girl 😏😏😏

Raquel: CUT. IT. OUT.

Raquel: and yeah everyone knows. That shouldn't be a kink btw that's just torture. If Charlie ever did I don't think I'd talk to him much afterwards.

Adriana: i've never tried that and i'm not sure how would i react. that could be either hot or incredibly infuriating

Casey: Oh, it's hot. Just as you feel his abs tighten and when he's like grabbing onto you real tight you just change the pace a bit. You keep going letting him know you're in control and then you just tell him he can't come. It's all about power and control and it makes him want to fuck you harder next time. You can't do it every time because then you're torturing yourself too but you can always say that if he's good and if he makes you come that you'll return the favor. Make him get creative.

Raquel: like I said. If Charlie did that to me, I wouldn't talk to him for a while. You can always just have great sex the first time around instead of prolonging something both people want.

Adriana: i feel like i've read porn right now

Adriana: and weren't you trying to not think about sex with him?

Casey: That wasn't even smut. If you want porn I can suggest a few authors who are experts in the genre.

Casey: I need to just have sex with someone else. Someone good who's not Eric.

Raquel: well my boyfriend is taken so I don't know who you can sleep with who is a guaranteed A+ but good luck with that.

Adriana: can i just say how much i love that you're defensive of your man? damn

Adriana: i don't know anyone either, so i can't help

Raquel: of course I stick up for my man. He's the love of my life and I mean he really is the best I've ever had. I don't need to go into near smut writing but there's a reason why I came back and why I'm so happy. You know even if it's not just sex.

Raquel: that's what it's all about. Once it stops being just about sex it's when you really get to fall for someone.

Casey: well that leaves me out. The chances of things being more than sex for me again are down into the negatives. Thanks for getting y mind off the sex and back to the real reason why eric and I didn't work which was how jealous he got and how I had to be like only his. Monogamy is over rated. Again, I should do girls only and then make it a polyamorous relationship and I'll be set.

Casey: you do not want a man like Charlie. Quel had to train him like a puppy, and I'm pretty sure he probably still has his accidents on the carpet.

Adriana: that's a good point, but monogamy isn't that bad?

Adriana: so you're hoping to have two or more girls in a polyamorous relationship or would it be for the sex?

Adriana: omg

Raquel: have you ever even been with one girl? You might be over selling yourself Case.

Raquel: also Charlie's not a dog. He might have been rough around the edges at first but he's fine. And there are no accidents anywhere.

Casey: Okay, semantics Raquel, who cares if I haven't been with a woman before and it would only be for sex and not for a relationship.

Casey: I'd be sticking with what I know and what I'm good at.

Adriana: you may want to start with one and then go for the orgy, babe

Adriana: so you'd say he's perfect now or...? because if that's the case, i hope he has a sibling

Raquel: an orgy? And have her try to pull the denial game on multiple people. She wouldn't stand a chance. She can't handle two people.

Raquel: Nope, he's an only child and from Canada so any relatives are there. I got the only one. Looks like you're going to have to keep kissing frogs.

Casey: an orgy is more than three people and more than I would be willing to have. Two people I can deal with.

Casey: because they'd be related to Charlie. Like sure he's nice and all but there's no way anyone should want to see more of them. Besides, you hit the genetic lottery it's why you make the big bucks.

Adriana: i know i'm pretty, thanks for the reminder. still, it doesn't have to be that bad???

Adriana: plus, i'd be a something-in-law to quel

Raquel: You'd be the girl dating my boyfriend's relative. Not something-in-law. Charlie and I aren't getting married.

driana: not yet, and knowing how in love you guys are with each other, i can see a wedding happening in a couple of years. mark my words.

Casey: yeah, see no one believes the whole we aren’t getting married thing. I’m already calling maid of honor.

Raquel: WE. ARE. NOT. GOING. TO. GET. MARRIED.

Raquel: like yes we love each other. I will love him forever but without marriage.

Adriana: he looks like a guy who would get to his knees and not only to talk french between your legs.

Adriana: let me fantasize about your wedding, geez. i want to be a maid of honor too

Casey: you aure that’s the only thing you’re fantasizing about? You’re picturing Charlie boy on his knees a lot there.

Raquel: not funny

Raquel: no. No wedding fantasies. No thinking of me getting married or fighting about who wants to be maid of honor because it isn’t happening. I’m not getting married.

Adriana: ew no. and not because charlie is ew because i'm sure he's 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼 but he's our girl's man, so no fantasizing about that

Adriana: don't you want to get married or is it because you think he doesn't want that?

Raquel: please don’t 👌🏽 about my boyfriend.

Raquel: are you kidding? I know he wouldn’t want that. He’s fine with being with me and he knows there is no chance of me ever leaving him but adding the whole wife title, and a ceremony and just the whole thing it would be too much. It’d freak him out and probably ruin my entire relationship which is so good.

Adriana: ew no. and not because charlie is ew because i'm sure he's 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼 but he's our girl's man, so no fantasizing about that

Adriana: don't you want to get married or is it because you think he doesn't want that?

Raquel: please don’t 👌🏽 about my boyfriend.

Raquel: are you kidding? I know he wouldn’t want that. He’s fine with being with me and he knows there is no chance of me ever leaving him but adding the whole wife title, and a ceremony and just the whole thing it would be too much. It’d freak him out and probably ruin my entire relationship which is so good.

Casey: or you’re really trying to blame it on him freaking out when really it’d be you going crazy.

Adriana: how do you know? has he told you he doesn't want to get married to you?

Raquel: Guys, I know my man. I don’t need him to tell me we aren’t getting married, I already know that and I’m okay with it. It’s not like I have it all planned or anything. I am fine. You two are the ones who brought up the whole marriage thing in the first place.

Adriana: okay, then don't. sorry i ever mentioned marriage.

Adriana: i guess the only one who wants to get married someday of us is me... in the very distant future

Raquel: which is fine. That just means I get to be maid of honor at /your/ wedding. You never know. You could find a guy pretty soon and he can be as much of a hopeless romantic as you are.

Adriana: yeah, because the romantic guys aren't hiding under the rocks.

Adriana: and who said it couldn't be a girl? 😏

Adriana: but those are hard to find, so it's not happening any time soon

Raquel: I know it's not going to be a girl because you're way too into heteronormative culture.

Raquel: we can always sign you up for online dating. Casey and I can probably find some guy for you.

Casey: Quel is just doubting your lady love

Casey: the chances of you finding a guy to give you the orgasm you have been wanting is pretty high on those too. I say risk it.

Adriana: and having a creep in my bed? no thank you. you girls either find me someone in the traditional way or i pass

Raquel: I’m not doubting her lady love. I am all for lady love. I’ve been with a girl before but that is beside the point.

Raquel: traditional doesn’t always work but if that’s what you want maybe we can go out soon just the three of us.

Adriana: isn't jdate for jewish people, Cas?

Adriana: when you guys have it ready, i want to see what you put on my profile, is that possible?

Casey: You don't have to be Jewish to be on the site.

Casey: You can date a jewish person.

Casey: nope, I'll just give you a time and place where you're meeting this person and be hiding somewhere so that I know he won't kidnap you and sell your organs on the black market and you'll have a good date.

Raquel: this is going to be a disaster. Let me do it. I have better luck with guys. Casey's going to end up setting you up with some body builder with a bdsm fetish.

Raquel: this is going to be a disaster. Let me do it. I have better luck with guys. Casey's going to end up setting you up with some body builder with a bdsm fetish.

Adriana: that's the way to leave this world. i wouldn't have any other way.

Adriana: can i take a look before it's up????

Casey: no you can't look at it.

Raquel: I'll send you screenshots.

Casey: I hate you both.

Adriana: you love us 😘

Casey: I'm tolerating you two now.

Raquel: You love us and you've already admitted that you have at one point wanted to kiss ussss so suck it.

Adriana: hey! i don't attract them, and i don't think i've ever done that

Adriana: keep them away from me, pleeeeeease?

Raquel: don't worry, I'll keep the crazy ones away. I know how to pick them.