sm_monthly May 23 theme
Feb. 3rd, 2011 01:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
purplekitteTitle: Butch Cut
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
purplekitte
Medium: Fanfic
Theme: Slash/Femmeslash--"I love the idea that I am the voice of woman. Look at me... I look like a dude." - Rachel Maddow
Genre: Romance
Version: Manga
Rating: PG
Their first date was fraught with a silent tension Haruka couldn’t mention. There was ‘Does she like me? Will this work? What do I say that’s funny and clever?’ yes, but the memory of a childhood of teasing and hazing made her hawkeyed on Michiru’s behalf.
Just two middle school girls out on the town together. Except not together-together like it actually was. Just friends, everyone would assume, right, and not bother them? If a boy flirted with Michiru it would be because he thought she was single, not because she had an immature school girl crush on another girl that she’d get over as soon as she had a real relationship with a boy.
So what if Michiru kept trying to hold her hand? There were plenty of reasons they might be holding hands and she glared daggers at anyone who she thought was even looking at them funny.
The waiter who brought her the bill while Michiru was in the bathroom almost lost a fare by her bolting when he mentioned her “girlfriend” casually, but it had been casual and maybe people in Tokyo talked differently, like how her grandmother called all her female friends “girlfriends,” and he didn’t sound like he was threat.
Michiru, who she had thought oblivious to her paranoia, finally told her at the door, “Haruka, no one thinks we’re lesbians. They think you’re a guy.”
On their second date, Haruka wore a dress.
Author:
purplekitteMedium: Fanfic
Theme: Slash/Femmeslash--"I love the idea that I am the voice of woman. Look at me... I look like a dude." - Rachel Maddow
Genre: Romance
Version: Manga
Rating: PG
Their first date was fraught with a silent tension Haruka couldn’t mention. There was ‘Does she like me? Will this work? What do I say that’s funny and clever?’ yes, but the memory of a childhood of teasing and hazing made her hawkeyed on Michiru’s behalf.
Just two middle school girls out on the town together. Except not together-together like it actually was. Just friends, everyone would assume, right, and not bother them? If a boy flirted with Michiru it would be because he thought she was single, not because she had an immature school girl crush on another girl that she’d get over as soon as she had a real relationship with a boy.
So what if Michiru kept trying to hold her hand? There were plenty of reasons they might be holding hands and she glared daggers at anyone who she thought was even looking at them funny.
The waiter who brought her the bill while Michiru was in the bathroom almost lost a fare by her bolting when he mentioned her “girlfriend” casually, but it had been casual and maybe people in Tokyo talked differently, like how her grandmother called all her female friends “girlfriends,” and he didn’t sound like he was threat.
Michiru, who she had thought oblivious to her paranoia, finally told her at the door, “Haruka, no one thinks we’re lesbians. They think you’re a guy.”
On their second date, Haruka wore a dress.
