#I know people don't think moms are cool + are terrified of women older than their male partners but Seph's mommy issues are RIGHT THERE

[tossawary]

I'm fascinated by little overlaps of character experiences in a timeline. In "Final Fantasy 7" as I vaguely remember it, Sephiroth is born in Shinra Manor in Nibelheim. The house has a secret basement laboratory, but people can't really spend months locked inside a house without losing it, so there must have been SOME interaction between the scientists in the manor and the people of the local village.

Like, they would have needed to get food somehow? And Shinra could be delivering all of their food by helicopter or something once a week, among other supplies, sure, but it's also possible that they might have had their food delivered through the village. Over the months or years that they were there, someone must have gone out drinking at the local pub or gone out to buy cigarettes at least once. There are different levels of lockdown that all seem feasible. It's possible that the situation was chill enough that Shinra employees might have semi-regularly gone out to eat dinner in town and simply not talked about what they were working on while out and about (Project S / the Jenova Project).

According to the wiki, Cloud is 21 during FF7, which means he was 17ish during the Nibelheim mission, I think? Some additional materials somewhere suggest that Cloud's Mom was only THIRTY-THREE (33) when she died, so I'm putting him at 17 because that means she would have been 16 when he was born. Which, depending on how old Sephiroth is exactly (wiki puts him at 25-30ish during FF7, which means he's probably 21-26ish during the Nibelheim mission), means that Claudia Strife would have been 7-12 years old in Nibelheim when Sephiroth was born.

It's perfectly possible that Claudia Strife at some point met Vincent Valentine, Hojo, or even a heavily pregnant Lucretia. She was supposedly a precocious girl with big dreams (before apparently becoming a teen mom), so she might have tried to hang around Shinra Manor at some point, and, idk, Vincent on his smoke break might have casually told her to fuck off for her own good. If the Project S people stayed in Shinra Manor for several years, it's very possible that one of the security guards or someone else there might be Cloud's father, who slept with a 15yo local and eventually left when he got sick of rural life. In which case, Claudia Strife might even have had the motivation to belatedly try to record who was at Shinra Manor and when, as part of an effort to find and contact her baby's deadbeat dad again.

(It's also possible that Cloud's Mom paid zero attention to any of the Shinra people back then and knows nothing about them, of course. Small towns are small, but also, sometimes you do the smart thing and just don't go poking around the mysterious corporate compound on the edge of town. That's just none of her business.)

Anyway, I think it's funny that Sephiroth is trying to figure out the secrets of his past, and they (Sephiroth, Zack, Cloud) could have potentially easily learned both Lucretia Crescent and Vincent Valentine's names if Zack had had one (1) conversation with Cloud's Mom. Claudia Strife was around back then as an adventurous young girl! She might honestly know a little something! Cloud, go home and talk to your mother!

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

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[lovecharlottedupont]

Growing Up in the South & Selling Lemonade

What I loved about being a child in the South was that we played outdoors all the time. Playing Atari games was a real treat, but most of our days were spent running around the neighborhood, riding our bikes, and exploring the woods. I had one of those idyllic childhoods where I would get home at three o’clock, throw down my backpack, and run outside with my brother to join the neighborhood kids for games of jump rope and imagination.

Kids ran to one another’s houses, shared one another’s homes. There weren’t a lot of rules, boundaries, or playdates. No one scheduled us. I learned about social dynamics by having to get along with whatever bunch of random children happened to be outside on any given day. I also learned how to turn down boys' affections.

In the evening, whenever our folks left the house, my brother and I would go on a mission to eat all the sweets we could find. Eli was the family spy. He always managed to see where my mom hid the best treats, and the minute the adults departed, we would find the stash. He would drag the big kitchen stool next to the fridge and climb up to get to Mom’s “hidden” stash of M&M’s or MoonPies. Joy was staying up past our bedtime, watching cartoons, hiding the empty candy bags behind the sofa cushions.

At the same time, we were expected to clean up nicely and to have impeccable manners in polite society.

We were taught to look people in the eye and to say hello and smile. Smiling at people is a big part of life in the South. If a child does not wave back at someone walking down the street, don’t be surprised if the adult says, “Excuse me, little one. Where are your manners?”

Good manners take very little effort. It’s not that hard to smile. My mother likes to say, “Smiles are contagious.” Try smiling at people you don’t even know for a day. Even if you’re not in Tara, most of them will smile back at you. It really does make a difference. Those little daily kindnesses, they can really change the mood of a block, a neighborhood, a city. My mother made sure we knew it was a necessity to be extra-nice to people doing the hard jobs that make other people more comfortable, like waiters, salespeople, and hotel workers. I love the way Big Papa is with people at a restaurant—in fact, I always observe how people act with waiters. It says a lot.

I sometimes meet hundreds of new people a week, because of the travel I do for work. I think there’s something really great about learning to look people in the eye, to introduce yourself, to be respectful, to take care of other people’s property. We always say in the South that good manners are a kind of passport. If you have good manners, you can go everywhere and people are glad to have you around.

We were taught manners by example. The older women in our families were unflappably polite. Southern women are strong and outspoken but also beautifully composed and always present their best selves to the world. They believe in character and the presentation of that character. They aren’t afraid to tell you how they really feel.

Someone once told me they thought people in the South were passive-aggressive in their politeness. Certainly not! In my experience, a southern woman will tell you right to your face if she doesn’t like something. If my mother or grandmother wasn’t pleased with my behavior, she’d say, “I don’t like that. The way you’re behaving is ugly. I don’t like when children behave ugly.” I feared their disapproval, and one pointed look from either of them could terrify me. Getting a “Stop acting ugly” was just the worst! I hated disappointing my grandma or my mother.

But they also taught me to strive for behavior that was beautiful. And in my mother’s and grandmother’s eyes, what was beautiful was treating others with respect and putting your best foot forward. Taking care of your community was beautiful, as was doing nice things for others. My grandma always said, “Pretty is as pretty does.” People aren’t pretty if they act ugly.

One time my grandma caught me chewing gum. She said, “The only appropriate place to chew gum is behind a door.” One time I really wanted to chew gum, so I went behind the door to do it, just to prove a point. But it made me realize that some people think it’s rude to chew gum around them. I like gum. But I was able to see my grandmother’s perspective: there is a time and a place for chewing gum, because, let’s just face it, it can be a little gross watching other people chew.

One other thing the South gave me as a child was a good work ethic. I had two business ventures as a young person, and both taught me lessons that I still put into practice today.

The first was a lemonade stand. I think a lemonade stand is a really good way for kids to learn about business. My brother and I took it very seriously. We would fill one of my mom’s huge tea pitchers with ice-cold lemonade and set up our table with paper cups, napkins, and a Mason jar to hold our money.

Eli and I always fought about pricing. He is four years older and thought we should be charging more than I thought we should. We would compromise on a quarter a cup, because we could take those quarters straight to the arcade afterward.

Creating the sign for the lemonade stand was my favorite part. Give me markers and some poster board, and I’m in my element. I also liked innovating: I’d find ways for our stand to be special, such as putting mint leaves in each cup, or having both iced tea and lemonade so people could create their own Arnold Palmer.

Being the loudmouth of the family, I was also the designated barker. I would flag down cars and harangue people into extra cups (“Doesn’t your husband want a cup, too?”). My brother and I developed quite a reputation on our block for running a tidy business.

Our second venture was our more innovative by far. It all began in third grade with some hair clips. I spotted them at the mall. They were very cool and just fifty cents apiece, and they were glimmering with potential. I had my brother front me some money as an investment, so I could get a lot of them and some paint pens.

I wrote my name with paint pen on the barrettes, wore them to school, and waited for other girls to notice. It didn’t take long. Soon they started asking me if I’d make them barrettes. Sure, I would: for $2. They would meet me at my desk before or after school, and in bubble letters I’d write their name or a chosen slogan in paint pen for a markup of $1.50. The orders poured in. It became like a status symbol: everybody had to have a hair clip. And so began my first real triumph in the entrepreneurial space.

I learned a lot of principles of business that way. I learned about pricing, and that margins are important. I learned that the customer is always right. If she didn’t like the writing, I had to redo it and absorb the cost of the one that she didn’t like. I learned that marketing is everything.

But I flew too close to the sun. I spent more time on my barrette business than on schoolwork, became a distraction to the girls around me, and got paint pen all over my desk. As a result, I got into a lot of trouble and my business was shut down by my third-grade teacher. Ah, the hazards of an elementary school start-up . . .

In both the lemonade-stand and barrette businesses, I loved learning about how business works. I was fascinated with the idea of turning a profit. I wasn’t afraid of hard work, and I liked engaging the market. It made me understand supply and demand. Also, I did like making enough cash to maintain my very expensive sticker collection.

The main thing I learned from all my entrepreneurial success was that working with my brother on the funding for the hair clip venture or on selling lemonade made those things more fun. To this day, it’s important to me to really enjoy the people I work with. That’s another thing that I learned way back in elementary school: Don’t go into business with people you don’t like, because you never know whether or not you’ll be successful in the end, so it’s important to enjoy the journey.

These days I don't start a venture with people I’m not ready to spend a lot of time with, because, let’s face it, if work is fun, it doesn’t feel like work. I feel like I’m putting on an old pair of slippers that fit just right.”

Lemonade-Stand Lemonade

12 lemons

1 cup sugar

6 cups cold water

1. Finely grate the zest of two of the lemons. Place the zest and sugar into a small saucepan with one cup of the water. Bring to a boil over high heat and reduce to a simmer. Stir until the sugar dissolves. Remove from heat and let stand for 10 minutes.

2. While the sugar syrup cools, juice the lemons (you should have about 1 cup fresh lemon juice). Place the juice in a gallon-sized jar. Pour the cooled syrup into the jar through a mesh strainer. Discard the solids. Pour the cold water into the jar and top with a tight-fitting lid. Shake well to combine. Chill until ready to use. Serve over ice. Adjust the sugar to sweeten to your liking.

[partialbirthabortion]

I really like the way you answers questions + I don't know many lesbians in my life (currently having 0 lesbian friends lolsadlife) so when it comes to turning to older lesbians for help I end up on tumblr. but thank you that did help tbh!!! so a lot of what you talked about in that post was physical appearance (hands/face shape/appearance etc) but you also said you can recognize pre-butch girls, what do you mean by that? it's funny that u said ur gf is into the family protector role bc 1/?

I am too and I've always felt that way and I know when my mum talks to me about stuff like how ur husband should treat you I have always absorbed those lessons as how I should treat my future wife and I thought that kind of stuff indicated that I'm trans? but I was never really happy with that despite my friends noticing I have "masculine" behaviour (+ my gf telling me thats one of the reasons she was first attracted to me, just in the way I walked and stood and talked to her and stuff) || and then recently I picked up Stone Butch Blues and I read it and it killed me, I could relate to Jess so much and it just made me realize that I dont have to "give up" being a woman (which I am, which I love fiercely, and which I will always be) just bc I'm "masculine". but now I just wanna tlk to other lesbians (especially such sweet people like you, omg Id love to take you out for coffee and just listen to you talk)  and learn more except. like. theres nowhere to go || and anyway sorry for this long spam but yea if you could elaborate more on that prebutch thing and maybe talk about your personal feelings and experiences wrt to lesbian history and butch/femme history in particular I would really appreciate it!!

Well hon first of all: come off anon! I promise I’m maybe 20% as cool as you think I am and I love getting new buddies so seriously! DM me!

Second, I’m sure if you asked your gf she could also tell you a lil about what's immediately recognizable as butch too! At least a small part butch pinging is just "am I attracted to her?” and like, no I’m not attracted to all butches but I am pretty much attracted to just butches (and I am to most butch tops, ahem, tbqh) so it’s not a bad place to start for sure. That’s also a big part of distinguishing andro butches from androgynous women for me personally.

Third, that’s so sweet and good to hear about SBB! Every single one of us is so indebted to Leslie Feinberg for that book alone. I was a terrified little kid just coming out to herself when I tried to read it for the first time (I did not make it all the way through, it was incredibly frightening) but Jess was the reason my desires were knowable to me a few years later. She was the reason my first butch girlfriend expressed surprise when I didn’t push or question her on her boundaries, and why I understood what was happening the first time I had sex. Nothing ever felt unnatural or nonobvious about the butch experience it described, and thinking about it now actually, I think that my non-femme (and obvi non-butch) lbpq friends had a much harder time wrapping their heads around it. I wonder if that’s a thing. Also  I totally recognized myself as Theresa!

To your actual question: in brief, the girls that straight adults actually recognize as definitely gay are almost always the butch ones. I was a pretty gnc little girl (I was loud and muddy and active, played all boys baseball, begged to have my hair cut off, cried when my hips got too big to fit in boys aisle shorts) but I wasn’t gnc the way, say, my bunkmate in girl scout camp was. I didn’t like girls stuff but I understood how to do it. I could be squeezed into a dress and understand how I was expected to sit and move. I could cultivate girly interests when I was pushed out of my tomboy ones. I got why girls don’t pee standing up outside. My bunkmate didn’t. She could never, ever perform in a way that seemed authentic and natural. She looked wrong stuffed into ballet flats, she picked and pulled at jewelry until it broke, she looked like a collared feral cat when you put bows in her hair. It never fit. And people respond to that. Usually when some shitty mom at Target slaps her daughter’s hand away from a For Boys Blue Flaming Monster Truck Explosion branded version of a toy with particular vileness, I assume she’s picking up on something, a way of being that her daughter has expressed, that’s enduring. That she won’t be trained out of. It’s evident.

I think this is even more vague than my first answer but it’s about the best I can do! Maybe think about your girlhood and see if you can recognize it on other kids? I recognize butch friends in little girls passing on the street every once and a while. They’re out there.