welcome!!!!!! this is long overdue. i’ve been promising myself i’d made this forever. so here it is - the ultimate masterpost of wlw (women loving women) books. not all characters are lesbians, some are bi or pan, though all books feature f/f relationships and/or themes. there are 150+ recommendations, so enjoy!
I want to begin this letter by telling you about the magic
of Brett Dier. He took a character – built
from the beginning with secrets and moral lapses – and made him so likable, so
funny, so sincere in all the right ways, that most of our writers’ room became #teammichael
by the end of the first season. And I
honestly don’t think I’ll ever love a moment on our show as much as I loved
Michael’s vows to Jane… Which is to say,
this was a devastating episode for us to write.
It was also a decision made very early on, when I thought
about our story as a whole. And even in
season one, I knew it would be a hard thing to actually do, which is why there
was a line (which many of you noticed) about how Michael would never stop loving
Jane. And the Narrator confirmed, “For
as long as Michael lived, until he drew his very last breath, he never did.” Honestly, I put that line into the script at
the last minute to hold our feet to the fire, to make sure we went through with
it. Because even back then, the writers
could all see the magic of Jane and Michael together. Not to mention Rogelio and Michael!
The other reason I put that line in the script was to
prepare you… a little. If the writers
and actors loved Michael so much, then I knew it would be devastating for the
fans. So then, the only surprise we had
left, was when…
And again – that goes back to the magic of Brett Dier. Originally, I thought Michael would die earlier. But Brett is such an incredible actor – he
gave us such great comedy and drama and first-rate exposition delivery (!),
often all in one scene. And he and Gina…
well, there’s that word again – magic. So, we changed some things in the writers’
room. Jane and Michael got married. They had sex.
They moved into their first home.
And I’m so glad we did that and
I’m so glad all those firsts for Jane were with Michael. But this is a telenovela, as we so frequently
remind you. And we are only at our midpoint.
You’ll recall, back in the pilot, Jane was on a path. Things were mapped out. And then she was accidentally artificially
inseminated and everything changed. Well
now, everything is changing again. How
does our romance-loving hero move on, how does she get back the light and the
Well, it’s certainly not quick. And that’s why we’re now three years later in
our story. We’ll be flashing back to
those three years and filling in gaps, but mining emotions realistically is
something we work hard on and we knew the immediate pain of that loss would
overwhelm our storytelling. After
talking to grief counselors, this felt like the right time to reenter Jane’s
journey. She’ll always feel Michael’s absence
(and trust me, we will too), but it opens up our storytelling in new and
exciting ways, while allowing for the light and bright Jane world that we love
Which brings me to something I feel really badly about.The
timing. I’ve had so many tweets lately about
how Jane is a bright spot these days.
And I know you just watched a gut punch of an episode. So, I just wanted to reassure you that Jane’s
optimism will rise up.
Thank you guys so much for watching the show, for caring so
passionately, and for going on our journey.
And thank you so much to Brett.
For his talent. His passion. His humor on set. Michael will be missed in Jane’s world, just
as Brett is already missed in ours.
i would literally give up my firstborn child for another genderswap au bcos jane potter is so hot im deadt
Jane, flirting, tells him his hair looks like a carrot fucked a fire hydrant.
“Charming.” Liam says.
“This is the part where you say something back and we verbally spar.” She responds, leaning with one muddy soccer boot up against the side of the library. McGonagall would have a fit. He puts his hands in his pockets and pretends to look at the street.
“Not today it isn’t.”
“C’mon,” she grins, ducking her head so her hair falls forward. “You’re making me feel bad. You’ve got to say something back otherwise it’s like bullying.”
“What do you mean ‘like’ bullying.”
“Please. If it was real bullying I would have your lunch money.”
“I don’t bring lunch money.”
“Good thing I’m not bullying you then.” She says, cheerfully, and he laughs. It appears halfway through this conversation he got bored with pretending to look at the road and has started actively staring at her again. He turns back.
“Your hair looks like you shoved a fork into a toaster.” He says, and she laughs now.
“’Knew you’d give in. Now we’re both bullying each other.”
He looks back at her. “I thought you said it wasn’t bullying.”
She smirks, soccer uniform covered in mud from making unnecessary slides across the pitch every time she makes a goal, which is often enough that he can see grass burn bleeding on her knees. He’s going to ask if she needs a bandage, and then she quirks her eyebrow at him, and he cannot for the life of him remember his name.
“Evans, you are aware I can see you ogling my legs.” Liam’s head snaps back to the street.
“I wasn’t ogling.”
“You bloody were.”
“I don’t ogle.”
“Fine. Staring. Gazing. Gawking, if you will.”
“Liam Evans, staring at my legs in front of everybody”
“There is no one else here.“
“You were ogling.” She pushes off the wall, arms folded and still smirking, advancing on him. “Perfectly understandable really, they are, dare I say it, the best legs this side of London.”
He scoffs, looking at the sky and not at her. “You’re so full of it.”
“I can’t help having great legs any more than you can help having hair that looks like a red traffic light threw up on Amy Adams.”
“Whose Amy Adams?” he feigns ignorance.
“I know you know who fucking Amy Adams is.”
He swings back on his heels. “Hmm, can’t say I do, but you had better watch your potty mouth or I’m going to report you to McGonagall.” He’s looking at her again. God goddammit.
“Minnie loves me.” She’s almost right next to him now, a good head shorter, bag over her shoulder, knees still bleeding. Her glasses are cracked in the left corner.
“She won’t once I tell her how you’ve been bullying me.” He says, and she smiles. The wind blows slightly, and God, she’s fucking pretty. His fingers itch to touch her jawline, the base of her throat, her cheekbone. There is always too much space between them.
“You know the library closes at six.” She breathes, looking at him, “and my practice ends at six-thirty.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” He lies, ridiculously.
“I mean,” her breath hitches, “You wait the extra half hour to see me.”
He wants to do something dumb, like kiss her or kiss her again, but she’s far too clever and pretty and he would have no idea where to put his hands. The world is impossibly still. His heart is thudding loud enough she must be able to hear it.
A car screeches into the street and reels up next to them, almost clipping the curb. “Potter!” Sarah Black sticks her head out the window and yells to be heard over the radio, “if you get mud on my seats again I’ll punch you in the tit!” Spotting Liam, she nods and takes a drag on her cigarette, “Evans. You’re here again.”
“Well spotted.” He croaks, trying to act normal and doing a bad job. Potter’s arm brushes against his on the way to the car and he shudders.
“Wanna lift?” Sarah asks, and he shakes his head. Jane stares at him through the passenger window, and he stares back. The only reason he comes to the library is to kill time before her practice ends. He would wait in the rain if he had to.
“Amy Adams was in Enchanted.” He blurts out, and Potter grins. He’s so far gone it’s embarrassing. He would do anything to make her look like that.
Black gives him a weird look. “Don’t take too many drugs on school grounds, Evans, Minnie doesn’t like you nearly as much as she likes me.” She peels away, almost taking out a letterbox in the process, and he starts walking home, thinking about how she has practice tomorrow, and the grass burns on her knees, and the way her breath hitches when she stands to close to him.
The streetlamps go on, and in the harsh light she roars into his head, laughing, covered in mud, a dream girl unbelievably rooted in reality.
“First, of course, I’m so proud of you. But that’s nothing new because I’m always proud of you, Jane. I am. Of the person you are and the choices you make and the way you live your life. It’s inspiring, I swear I don’t know how you do it. And now you’re having a baby and I really hope that you get to have a moment like this with your kid one day. So that you get to feel the way I’m feeling about you right now. I love you.”