#sorry i dont remember what tags i typically use for this stuff guys i am feeling. INSANE right now. i should smoke

[olliecoded]

summer is going to be so hard for me because like if i wear long sleeves and long pants all summer my mom is going to get suspicious but it's not even going to be because i'm self harming it's going to be because i'm not at a point where i can allow my body to be seen in summer clothes

[dykeomania]

i remember one of my first experiences reading tlou fics were with your writing as far back as late 2021/early 2022 (and if im misremembering when you first started writing, then you definitely fit in the early 2022 bracket hahaha). yours and others fics were things i looked forward to when i had some downtime. im white and always appreciated seeing fics specifically catered to black/POC fans and fics that never specified race, weight, gender expression, etc. it felt extremely inclusive to everyone involved and there was something for everyone to enjoy. i wont knock what others may be interested in because thats scummy and probably not what you want said on your behalf either, but these tags feel significantly less inclusive now and only fit the same exact mold of a hypothetical person involved with abby and/or ellie. its genuinely hard to come online and find anything worth reading because of how little diversity there is in whats being written. its far from what it used to be, hence why i still go back and read fics of yours and others from that time period. i am so sorry you and other black writers had to witness whats gone on recently. this is meant to be a safe space for queer people who enjoy tlou and fun little fantasies that should mean no harm to anybody. you guys do not deserve to have that tarnished and more needs to be done to change what this community has turned into.

i’ve like been thinking ab this and other asks that i’ve gotten expressing something like this because tbh, like,

i just,

idk i thought about it and like i don’t know really what to say. but, i do understand.

niche reader inserts are in fact, niche, yeah. (cont)

it’s really awkward when like the tag is filled with like, one specific perspective, and your personal experience or your desires just doesn’t click with that — like it relies a lot less on the sexual or romance aspect of things and more into bending into a particular role, a particular lens of desire and/or being desired, etc — and when it’s like one strain of that all of the time, people are bound to feel left out. right? (cont)

and it’s common sense, like that’s just how it is. like, back innnn idk early?????? mid???? ‘22, the tag was only filled with like dom!ellie fics. a big thing at that time was like, oh i wish there was more sub ellie fics, dadada, i’m a top, there’s nothing for me, and like, that was really real, and now we have more sub ellie stuff. cool. i think all of the shit that happened just speaks to the fact that not everyone can really like, vibe with certain things on here like that, and they would like to be able to. i dont think it’s appropriate to like shit on that vibe or anything like that, but it is a valid complaint to have. so, yeah, i’m really hoping that in light of all of this, more diversified content is added to the tag — not even pertaining to a particular race or ethnicity but things that just deviate from a particular aesthetic, trope, and other common things that are typically seen nowadays on the tag. that’s not to say that erasure is necessary because now you’re just dtm but like ideas get circumvented pretty quickly and tbh that’s not exactly harmful, but it’s nice that there is some change that is happening that’s allowing people to settle into something that’s comfortable for them. i’m not even saying this just cause you like my stuff, but i think what you + some other people are grated by is pretty valid and, yeah, i hope that when you do sift through the tag in the future that it’s easier for you to find a story that you can feel more comfortable in and it incentivizes you to come back.

and like, on the fuckin.. being black and being here thing as of rn thing…. hey. like, i mean….. the way i saw people telling black women how they should feel about like some black girl receiving racially motivated hate was absolutely nuts and the fact that people were either motivating others to either look past it or were trying to tell other people how they should feel about things / what they should do was. Sick. LMFAO. but i mean! hey. just… hey. juuustt….. yikes. and the way it’s (like random people policing black people on this app) still going is just so… ghetto i just….. yyyikes. little bit too comfortable, in that chair. i think that’s a bit of an understatement.

i just, yeah. i don’t have much to say. justtttt… justt.. just… yeah LMFAO

[foryouthegays]

hey, guys! this is my expanded Thoughts On Stuff (bio)! please read if you’re new to my blog :) if you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to DM me. 

hello! my name is ris tessane, I am a minor who uses it/its and he/him pronouns, and i run this blog! I’m demiqueerplatonic (WOW), aro,,ish, and ace! I reblog mostly hermitcraft and technoblade stuff, but sometimes cool art will catch my eye and I just have to reblog it, even if its out of fandom. 

As a general, get the hell off of my blog if you’re a homophobe, transphobe, TERF, enbyphobe, pan/biphobe, aphobe, racist, ableist, xenophobic, pedophile/ pedophile apologist (gross, i’m a minor, thats nasty), if ur gross to people w/ DID/ OSDD, personality disorders, mental disorders, physical disorders, ya know. all the things people are gross too that they literally just. can’t help. or! you just don’t like me! I promise my feelings wont be hurt if you block me. your online experience is yours to shape to your desire. if I don’t fit in your comfort zone, whatever! i literally do not care! block me!

i typically use /j to indicate a joke, /s for sarcasm, and /rq for a rhetorical question. this is because some people have trouble reading tone over the internet, and using these helps them enjoy their experience on my blog. 

now, onto the fun stuff. 

I can and will block “like spammers.” this is for a variety of reasons, mostly coming down to the fact that liking does nothing to help expand the reach of creators, it fogs up their notifications, and is only useful in certain situation (vent posts, good day asks, basically personal stuff.) Just to be clear, I won’t block people who like a post and move on, but someone coming to my blog and liking everything with no reblogs, will get blocked. I don’t have time to clear my notifications if I, or artists I reblog from, don’t get any exposure in return. sorry not sorry. 

[hermitcraft fandom specific] I am a pro-shipper, meaning i ship the little minecraft characters together for my own self enjoyment. terrifying, right? /s /rq. If you’re uncomfortable with this, feel free to block! again, it doesnt affect me in any way, and if I interact with something of yours and you arent comfortable with me (a shipper) doing so, please DM me so i can remove it! No hard feelings, i promise.  as for the dream team aspect of shipping, I am not against it, however I do not personally ship any of them. my aroace butt just projects way too much to think about them in any sort of non-platonic relationship  for people who say “DNI if you ship real people uwu,”,,,,,,i literally have no idea what u are trying to say. I DONT ship real people. but, i cant tell if thats a condescending, “don’t ship real people, and shipping the character is shipping the person,” or a normal, “don’t ship real people, but the character is fine!” so, with that in mind, dont ship the person behind the screen! ship the lil character, please! & dont force content creators to see shippy stuff!

tags! when on my ipad, i typically don’t use tags. when on my computer, its much easier to tag things, and things are tagged as #ris reblogs (reblogs), #ris talks (general talking stuff, such as this), and #ris answers (for asks), and a few other tw stuff for things people asked me to tw tag for. if you need/want me to tag something for you, please just ask! i’ll do my best to remember. 

i reserve the right to block anyone I dont feel comfortable with! this could be for looking like a bot, having things im not comfortable with as a pfp/ in their name, being a queerphobe, and many other reasons! or maybe, i just dont vibe! it’s my internet experience.  DMs are open to anyone! feel free to come on in and chat. 

[flowersfrombefore]

Flowers and Pianos:Part 2  (Greta Stirling X Roger Taylor) (OC)

AN: today on ‘I am the worst’ I’m so sorry you guys ended up waiting so long for such a short chapter but my writers block has been killing me. I think it’s gone now so I should be getting stuff out faster. Anyway, this chapter is kinda a middle ground thing. Not really story line until the end, more relationship building (they’re cute and I’d die for them) 

Editing isn’t real in this chapter because I got pissed off don’t @ me about spelling mistakes or I’ll fight. 

Part one

Word count: 1430 (I’m sorry I know it’s short ) 

Enjoy babes.

Warmth hung in the air of the bedroom though outside the wind would send a chill through bone. Light from the sun still soaked the ground and the trees but it was a cold light, an empty promise of warmth.

Rays of light began to seep through the sheer curtains, casting ridges of shadow and white light across the floor and across the two bodies intertwined together in the sheets. Sleep had hardly settled over them when the sun had found its way through the curtains and onto their bare skin. Words had passed effortlessly between them until the darkness gave way to the soft gray that morning tended to bring.

Greta stirred only a short time after she’d drifted off in the comfortable heat and exhaustion, mixed with intoxication that her body was swimming in. Her eyes fluttered open lazily, only partially sure of where she was. The muffled pounding in her head was enough to tell her that no matter how long she’d been awake the night before her hangover had still caught her. She attempted to ignore it the best she could, looking out through the small break in the curtains on the window to the trees and the patch of flowers only just visible.

One thing she was aware of completely was the body pressed against her in the sheets, the lips still brushing against the back of her neck and the feeling that his arms were safe and warm and a place she never wanted to part from. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of his touch wash over her as she tried to recall exactly what had happened. She knew generally what she’d done, what they’d done, though a little blurry on why it had happened in the first place. She searched her mind for a sense of regret and came up empty, and came to the conclusion that this was something she was okay with.

A whisper of his name crossed her lips, only to see if he was awake as well. It was met with no response.

She needed to look at him.

She didn’t know why.

She supposed there was a need to know it had happened, even though a glance at her chest and the blossoming bruises was enough to tell anyone it definitely had. Less a need to know it happened than, more a need to know they were who she thought. When nothing feels real it’s all you can do to make sure your bad decisions were worth something and that they were real.

They were almost too close together for Greta to move without waking him, but it didn’t matter. She just wanted to look at him. They could fall back asleep just as easily if her head lay on his chest.

Shifting her position was easier than she expected even with his arm lazily draped over the outline of her ribs. With a slow movement she was able to turn herself without much disturbing of the sheets and was met with a mess of blond hair obscuring the face she wanted to see so dearly.

For only a moment her heart stopped in her chest.

Sarah.

Now without the dimness and the blurry vision of last night it hit her how similar the two could be. With a shaky hand she brushed the hair away and exposed Rogers face. Strips of light illuminated lines across his face leaving the rest in a shadow. Where it fell on his hair it gave off a glow that was almost unnatural. Greta remembered the thought that had crossed her mind the night before about him giving off the appearance of an angel.

“I was right.” She whispered to herself at the thought, not being able to stop herself from dragging her fingers lightly over his cheek. At her touch Roger stirred, his breathing changing from its previously steady sound.

As Roger slowly started to wake Greta closed the gap between them and brushed her lips against his. His eyes shot open in surprise and he pulled away, but only for a moment. The shock on his face softened in an instant.

“You’re still here.” It was a statement that could have been mistaken as a question.

“So are you.”

The words that passed between them would have meant nothing to anyone outside of the events but it was almost a realization on both sides. It’s all that was said for a time. Nothing else needed to be said after Roger had enveloped her in his arms and kissed her like his life depended on it. His hands found their way into the the sea of red that was Greta’s hair as he pulled her on top of him.

Twenty minutes later they broke apart, breathless and a little overwhelmed. Roger’s back was pressed against the headboard with Greta in his lap. The sheets had fallen from them leaving them colder than before. Roger trailed his hands up and down the sides of Greta’s body, tracing over the outline of her hips and her a-little-too-prominent ribs. The touch sent a shiver through her spine, it was like ice had been injected into her and froze her where she was, except to tighten her fingers in Rogers thick hair.

It was almost innocent.

“Stay with me.” Roger spoke up finally. The words fell from his lips like a plea.

“What do you mean?”

“I-I know that it’s not typical of me, and I know it would be hard with both of us touring and-” He was babbling, Greta thought it was sweet. She brought one finger to rest of on his lips to quiet him. She didn’t need to say it for him to understand. It was an unspoken request for the blunt truth. She lifted her finger away when she was sure he understood.

“I don’t want you to just leave after this. I want to be with you.” He looked away from her, resting his gaze on the window. “I’m sorry, ignore what I said I’m sure it’s just me.”

Greta tore her eyes from him and shifted her eyes to the window as well, she could see the flowers outside clearer now, and she smiled to herself remembering part of a conversation her and Roger had had the night before.

“I have two conditions.” As she said it she turned him to face her with a hand on his neck. She held up two fingers and dragged them down gently over his eyelids making them close. She lifted them away but Roger kept his eyes closed until she leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“One.” She poked a small bruise on his collar bone with one finger. “I get to call you Flower.” She giggled in spite of herself, as she was trying to sound even a little serious. Roger grinned, he’d found that her laugh was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard.

“Why is that going to be my nickname? We can’t compromise the tiny amount of masculinity I have with that.”

“Yeah we can, seeing that we spent an hour last night ranting about flowers. Just cause you were drunk doesn’t mean I’ll let that go.”

“Okay, okay it’s acceptable. I’ll just pretend I don’t like it to keep up some kind of image.” He let his head fall into Greta’s shoulder as the giggles he had been trying to hide died down. “What’s the second?”

Greta moved herself off of Roger before she spoke. She interlaced their finger and brought herself to sit beside him. She tapped two fingers this time on his knuckles.

“No one else. That’s my condition.” She turned to look at him, finding his eyes had been lingering on her since she had moved. “If I stay you’re mine.” She pressed a small kiss to his shoulder and nuzzled into his neck. “And I’m yours.”

“No one else.” He didn’t need to say anything else, Greta knew it was an agreement.

It didn’t cross either of their minds until later, when they had parted to find their bands, that staying together was going to be almost impossible. The promise had in no way been empty on either side, but the quiet oblivion of that bedroom had erased the serious obstacles.

There was no way.

They’d live knowing they’d made that promise, knowing they wanted the other, and they’d never be able to live up to it.

Or it seemed to them for weeks, until what seemed like an empty promise was filled by luck and coincidence.

Tag List: @blushy-monkey @crazyweirdocalledfriday @dreamer7black @greywind2 @clara-who @secretsweetscollectionblog @rogers-wristbands @bitemerog @thebohemianpenguin  @anuknowha @goodoldfashionlovergirl

(sorry if i forgot to tag, there’s a few people I forgot to write down.)

As always my rule to be on the tag list is that you leave some kind of feedback, i dont care what it is just something.

[pendragonfics]

Fanfic Is Just Wobbly Canon

Paring: Wade Wilson/Reader

Tags: male reader, canon complaint, canon divergence, time-travel fix-it, canon-typical violence, canon gay character, character death ((but dont worry its ok)), romance, fluff, angst. 

Summary: Reader loved Wade since that drunk kiss in 2010. Reader loves Wade in that burning orphanage in 2018. Cable realises stuff.

Word Count: 2,064

Current Date: 2018-09-05

Being a part of the X-Men wasn’t half bad, most of the time. You got regular dental checks and healthcare cover thanks to the Professor, an account on the team’s Netflix you didn’t have to pay for, and training to allow you to regulate your mutation to be allowed around other people. While Ellie Phimester could literally explode, and Colossus was metal most of the time, you were able to shift your density. Which had been a rude awakening at fourteen when you fell from your bed at the top of the orphanage through all the floors and landed in a heap in the basement.

But that was years ago, and since, you’ve been learning not to fall so much as ‘fly’, or, really, just be half-useful in hand-to-hand combat with the people the X-Men encountered. In 2010, you met Wade Wilson back when he was just a mercenary for cash – by accident! You were on your way to your apartment in the shady part of town and he’d seen you in the shadows as a threat. Leading to his knife in your chest…well, his knife going through your chest. To make up for it, he’d taken you out for an apologetic round of drinks and given you a sloppily drunk kiss. But it was nice. It was Wade.

You’re sure he was too drunk to remember that, because it hadn’t been mentioned since. But that was perchance because he’d found a girlfriend. Because when you met again a couple of years later – when you were called in from a mission in the Basque country of France – he looked like a scaly piece of radioactive cheese, but, even without the eyebrows and a skincare routine, you knew it was Wade. For one, that sailor mouth.

Now, you’re not so sure.

“She’s ducking dead,” he says, over and over, except ducking is what everyone intends to write when Autocorrect steps in. “And Russel’s – duck!” His eyes are wild. He looks like a raggedy, wild, ravaging animal. Or a child. He’s acting like it too. His legs are still small, and standing in the corner, you watch as he works out his problems mentally until he growls in frustration.

Weasel looks to you, and you look to Neena, and in turn, look to Wade.

“X-Force didn’t work out,” you say, and Wade gives you a sharp look. You clear your throat, and start again, “X-Force isn’t done yet, but it hasn’t done what its goal was. Get Russel and stop him. Especially since he’s with Juggernaut.”

Neena nods, agreeing. “We need to stop them, I mean, that guy is ugly.”

Weasel raises a hand. “How are we going to do it? I mean, me – I’m just me, and Wade has baby legs, Neena – you’re just a fluke of nature –,”

She grins at that, “Thank you.”

“– and __________, you’re just really good at falling through things.” He concludes.

“We can’t just do nothing.” You say, desperate. “We know that Russel turns into a really, really bad guy if we let him go down this path – we have to try! It’s better to try at failing than to fail at trying.”

“Isn’t that from a motivational cat poster?” Neena wonders.

You throw your hands up, exasperated, and leave the room to find Wade’s kitchen. When you were but a young boy, a blind boy a little older than you roomed with you at the orphanage. He might have been blind, and at night, covered his head with pillows because everything was too loud, but you learned something from him, even when you discovered your mutation.

---

Tea makes everything better. Of course, two teenaged boys didn’t learn this by themselves – you’d sneak down to the kitchens after sunset for a mug of warm milk that Sister Constantine would permit, but, when your friend came with you this time, she declared that it wouldn’t be tea this time for the both of you.

“How old are you boys, again?” she asked in her matronly tone.

“Fifteen,” you replied.

“I’m sixteen.” Said his friend.

“Well, you’re much too old to have warm milk at night. Yes,” she repeated, busing herself with boiling a pot of water upon the cast iron stove. “Milk is for children or calves suckling at their mothers’ teat in the farmyard. You boys are nearly men, and men drink milk, yes, but with other things.”

“Do you mean biscuits?” you questioned.

You had no clue as to what men drank. You had been found as a baby upon the orphanage doorstep, swaddled in a raggedy scarf in a box that had allegedly smelt of cat pee and cigarettes. The nuns raised you, and so, apart from the occasional school teacher who was male, you had few as role models.

“No,” Sister Constantine replied. “Tea.”

---

Returning to the living room with several cups looped over your fingers, it isn’t until you look up and realise that almost everyone there has a gun cocked to where you were just standing. Because standing there is the man who had just been trying to kill Russel. It’s then your mutation kicks in with the adrenaline that’s racing through your mind, and the cups drop, hitting the floor. Kersch-plash.

“Sorry,” you apologise, “I just – he’s – what?”

“Cable. The mother-trucker who was – hey, who’s censoring my words?” Wade frowns, looking at you. No, not you, the you who’s reading. “Did the writer put you up to this?” he asks, growling. “I am the Merc with a Mouth, not one of those lame-o’s from The Good Place.” He bring his hand down upon his baby leg in frustration, and winces. “Fork! Bench.” He turns his gaze from you back to you, standing in the doorway with several broken mugs of tea at your feet, and continues, “He’s the guy who wanted to let Russel get blown up like a piñata on the Day of the Dead.”

“Oh,” you say, “hi.”

The other man says nothing. But it’s what happens next that says more words.

---

You see it happening, perhaps, before he did.

There was the shot of the gun from that asshole, and the bang! of the shot itself, and well, you did what you did. Your feet move themselves, your brain makes you move faster than before. Sure, earlier today you couldn’t function enough to hold your own with your density vs. the tea cups, but now, your body is in fight mode. And before you can register what you’re doing, you’ve moved.

You feel the bullet, and feel somewhat hollow, and but its then you shift. Your skin grows dense, like concrete trying to drip dry out of a waterless tap.

Time seems to go back to normal after that.

And you collapse to the ground, heavy. From the hole in your chest, you know you’re bleeding onto the X-Force unitard. From what’s hurting the most, you know the bullet has hit your heart, right where you didn’t need a bullet to go through. But you took it.

“Bruv,” Russel says, shocked.

“__________!” Wade’s at your side. “No – what!”

You look to him, unable to articulate anything. From shifting your mutation as you took the bullet, you can only assume it’s taking up all your energy, all your will, and you can feel weaker. “H-hi.” You whisper.

“__________, you can’t die,” Ellie blinks, looking between you and Colossus. At the mansion, you never thought yourself as close, but here she is, breaking. “Call someone!”

But you’re focusing on Wade, with every second you have left.

“__________, no,” he says, pulling the mask up, so you can see his lips. “You can’t die too.”

You muster all your strength, and reaching toward Wade with your hand, you place your fingers on his chin, and your hand falls to land on his chest. “I…I l –,” You splutter, your heart rate fading quick, your lungs unable to fill. “you.”

It all goes dark.

---

Time is strange when you don’t care about it. He care deeply for it, especially since it’s what he works on. Lives off. Needs. But he says he doesn’t care, and that’s what other people know of him. They don’t know much of him. Like how he had a son, once. A perfect child, unaffected like him. It drove him mad, seeing the boy showing no mutant genes. It was when he and his wife, quite young, and quite sure of it at that time, decided to return this child to where he came from. Originally. So that it could have the best life for someone like that.

So, he had his wife write a note, and they wrapped the child in a scarf, and marked him in a way so if he wanted to, he could find the boy. And together, he and his child, went to the late 20th century, to a small orphanage in New York city. He chose a warm night, to leave him, in a box that smelt faintly of cigarette smoke.

After that, time went on for him. Forwards, backwards, his device worked well. Until that night, and then, he, in revenge for what happened to his family, armed himself with it, and saw it had only two more rides left. One to the 21st century. To take out Russell Collins. And one to return home.

But plans change.

Cable watches the young man fall, having taken the bullet. But it isn’t until he takes his hand, and places it against Wade’s chest that he notices a small mark on the inside of his wrist. Three dots, faded, yes, but, there, as if tattooed.

He knows those dots. While the X-Force are busy churning out tears, he turns his device, and in time – a fluid thing, really – goes backwards, for once, in a small way. Ten minutes, back when they were un-squashing out of the taxi together.

He does what he does, and shrugs when asked why he touched the younger man’s chest. He feigns indifference, and, well. The rest is history. Future.

Now.

---

You see it happening, perhaps, before he did.

There was the shot of the gun from that asshole, and the bang! of the shot itself, and well, you did what you did. Your feet move themselves, your brain makes you move faster than before. Sure, earlier today you couldn’t function enough to hold your own with your density vs. the tea cups, but now, your body is in fight mode. And before you can register what you’re doing, you’ve moved.

You feel the bullet, but, not as you expect it. Your body is tensed, your mutation had kicked in, but there was no feeling. It’s then you realise.

The bullet is nestled into the ground near your feet, dented by something. You’re intact. Russel’s intact. You frown, and look to Wade, and your eyes land on Cable. He nods, as cryptic as ever, and it is then when he goes to inspect his gun.

“I nearly died,” you whisper, looking once more to your friends, your eyes settling on Wade. Your adrenaline is still coursing your body, and it’s in a split second when you stride toward him, looking at him through the mask. “Wade, there’s something I gotta tell you.”

Russel gives you two a look, and moves toward Colossus, away from you too.

“You left the stove on at my place?” he asks.

“No, no, not that,” you shake your head. “Do you remember back in 2010 when we first met? In the alleyway? You stabbed me, but I –,”

He nods.

But you persist. “Do you remember all of it? Because sometimes it’s like you try to erase that bit, because you’ve never brought it up. You were with V –,”

Wade interrupts you, ripping the mask from his face that looks like an undercooked and under-sauced pepperoni pizza, and at once, he cradles your face with his gloved hands, and your heart stops. Not in the literal way. Because finally, it’s happening sober. It’s happening out of your guilty pleasure daydreams and wishes.

“I wasn’t sure if you remembered,” he says to you, as you break for air.

“Gross,” says Russel.

“Every sock has a pair,” says Yukio, no doubt holding Ellie’s hand.

“Of course I remembered,” you say, and kiss Wade forkin’ Wilson, the guy you’ve been in love with since that night in 2010.

[normalcryptid]

I don't actually know how to write this or even where to start but I wanted to write something for National Coming Out day, write a very rambling mess of a something but a something. I guess I will just start where all good stories should, at the beginning(except my memory is bad so half of this is probably out of order, opps)

I actually had my first gay moment in kindergarten believe it or not. I don't remember a lot of it though which is typical. All I really remember is my best friend at the time told me to kiss her during nap time. I don't remember if I did but in second grade she started crying one day because I did. Yeah, that's a long time to be upset over a small kiss. I know. Children man. They are insane. But hey, go me. Starting young. I wonder what happened to her? After second grade I moved away because my parents divorced and at that age there isn't much you can do.

Except that's not the beginning so fuck that gay moment. Hell, I don't remember it and I was five so does it even count? The beginning is really April 8, 2014. Threeish years ago. That's the day I met the person who would later become my best friend, the person I tell everything to, probably the most important one of this story besides me(definitely the most important person besides me). There was also two others. We were a small group obessesed with supernatural and just generally being nerdy. I fell out of touch with most of them. I honesty don't know where it all began. Sometime in late May maybe? I kinda sorta mayne grew on crush on a girl I knew named Kelsey and was shocked because uh? Excuse me, I am not gay?( pro tip, you are hella gay) So anyways I asked said nerdy supernatural obessesed good friends of mine about it because of fucking course I did and found out lots of stuff I didn't know. Like shit dudes, half of what I know about gayness is because of these dudes. So I figured hetroflexible. Right. That's that's a thing. Maybe I should sure why the hell not? I'm hetroflexible and hopefully this fades during summer when I don't see her. Yeah, that would definitely work. (it didn't) And well that was that. I just let that be for a while. Later I changed my label to pan because damn everyone is cute. Romantically. Not sexually, you know. More on the pan part later, probably.

So while that was going on I was also wondering hey I don't really feel sexual attraction so uh friends is there a word for someone that doesn't feel sexual attraction unless they like know each other? Amd my friends(bless them) sent me all sorts of fucking refrences to demisexuality and I st there thinking alright this, this is good. So I am demi? Definitely demi. Pretty sure this happened when I was 'straight' so the only lgbt+ part of me I had was that. I could work with that. Maybe this happened in my junior year? Shit, I don't actually remember exactly. This is a mess.

So hey back to the pan part. So fucking as stated, the crush didn't go away and I didn't feel like bi fit exactly. So what do I do? Of fucking course I go to my friends. Of fucking course I do. And what do they do? Help me with the questioning and send me references to pan and poli and all fucking sorts of queer shit. And the good little person I am who wanted to figure this the fuck out necause this was stressful read the shit out of those refrences, found out pan fit and boom. I was now a little demi pancake. Except I was still mostly attracted to guys so that was my life. It was a lie. I'm gay. I don't like guys.

So uh....shit I don't know. I lost touch with all except for James, my best friend. We had a long distance relationship for like a week because fuck I hate distance and anxiety. I hated having to break it off. I still like James. Except there are a lot of reasons why I won't date him besides distance. He already knows. (Sorry James. I love you though) I also had my first girlfriend from September 22, 2015 to January 11, 2016. We didn't do shit and I mostly said yes to her asking me out because I was secretly questioning if pan still fit. I am horrible, I know. I had a big crush on this girl named Casey the whole time though which is honestly digusting. Casey is horrible. Fuck her. She hasn't been on her tumblr in about a year but I fucking hope she reads that one part. Just fuck her. She isn't important. Anyways, Mariana(my girlfriend) broke up with me after a month of her avoiding me and me being the clingy anxiety filled person that I am being full of anxiety and clingy. She did it in front of a bunch of my other friends between classes using the "it's not you, it's me" line. I went to class in shock wantimg to cry with my hands shaking. It was hard to breathe. I am pretty sure I would have had a panic attack if I wasn't so surprised. There was an odd bit of me thinking hey maybe pan doesn't actually fit amyways, maybe I am really straight and this was all a lie. I pined after a lot of boys that I think I mostly liked because my friend Kamryn did since we always seemed to have the same taste in gays. And then I graduated high school. That was that.

Then I met a girl named Hailey. She replaced Casey once I found out how childish and bitchy Casey was as my best friend in person. I just kind of adopted pan again? but never told anyone. It was just kinda there? I had a crush on Hailey too but hey she is also a bitch so fuck her too. She is only important for one thing. So basically when I adopted pan again I started looking at girls. A lot. But me neing the oblivious fucker I am didn't fucking notice until April of this year when I created a thing called the Am I gay theory or AIGT for short where I would write notes and question myself. Needless to say, I wrote one note about how guys are still cute so obviously I am not gay but girls. I came out to Hailey on May 8th, 2017. It was hard. She was the first person I came out as gay to besides James but James knew this whole time. He was always there. He is hella important. I should mention him more because he was there for all of my questioning. Bless him. So Haiely. I came out to her in my work breakroom. I couldn't say it. The words wouldn't form on my mouth. She spent most of the break complaining about her shitty boyfriend. I threw in refrences. Small ones here and there. Jokes mostly. And then one that caught her attention( I said it mostly to myself) amd she went "Wait are you a lesbain or some shit?" and I replied with "Well not how I wanted to tell you but". That would be that except she decided to tell me I should at least kiss a boy before I decide this. No. Fuck that. Fuck you. Just fuck it. The next month a came out to a lot of my coworkers and friends mostly through small jokes. No one cared. Most of them already knew. I moved jobs. Come out to my new work friends really casually. (God this is a ramblimg paragrap.) No one cared or even blinked an eye. We made jokes. We still do. All was merry. I love my new work friends. Kayla keeps asking me if I talked to any hot babes and wanting to find me a girlfriend. People there ask about my nonexistent boyfriend and I talk to kayla about it and she assures me that she never thought I was straight from the moment she walked up to me to now(of fucking course). Why does everyone there assume I have a boyfriend? I own a shirt that says I kiss girls? Just why?

So then pride cameup. Here in Virginia it is later then most prides. It is always the end of September and I asked my paretns to go because I was supportive and I had lots of friends going. I was not out to them at the time. Then ironically Kayla and I had an entire conversation where she said my paretns definitely know I am gay and I said nah they suspect but don't know. The very next day was the Friday before pride and my mom calls me into the living room to basically say hey, I know you are gay. I had to text Kayla and tell her she was right. Amd then I had to comfirm to my dad that hey, I am gay. Surprise except not really because you already knew. Apparently longer then I knew myself. (on a side note, pride was amazing and it is where I got my I kiss girls shirt. I also got a pride flag that now hangs in my window) So now I am happily out as gay.

I also don't identify as demi anymore. I am a lot more ace then I originally thought as I realized in the middle of a conversation with you guessed it James. Also I have been questioning my gender for quite a while now? Hence the Elliot thing. Everyone who knows me in person calls me Zoe so they probably question why I always put Elliot down as a name with questions and why my personal tag is el. Well, I guess you know now. I still go by Zoe so dont feel bad. Call me whatever. I am comfortable with both. I let it rest for a bit because questioning is stressful and I didn't need a label. Well guess who is back on their shit? Me. So yeah, that is my rambling mess of a coming out story so I am just goimg to wrap it up.

Have a great National Coming Out day from your local gay ace gender questioning pal, kids.