The missing ingredient, I see in hindsight, was eroticism, worn on the sleeve and there in the step: Where political dykes would don a baggy flannel shirt and think, ‘No one will sexually objectify me if I wear this,’ the butches were tucking their shirts in, knowing that some little gal would love the softness of the flannel under her hands as she ran them up over the butch’s pecs.
“Why I Love Butch Women,” Carol A. Queen, Dagger: On Butch Women
Over the past few months I’ve created a character known only as the Sassomancer – a modern-day chaotic neutral necromancer who’s always backlit with sleeves of inconsistent lengths.