Diana!!! Goddess of chastity and the hunt! You’re never going to find a boyfriend if you keep taking long, luxurious baths with all your female friends like this! Get it together!

Diana, how are you going to get a boyfriend if you keep turning all the men who see you into stags and then murder them with arrows?? That is NOT an approved method for keeping your man, Diana!!

Diana, you are missing a prime opportunity to invite some eligible bachelors to your naked all-girl meadow party! SM dang H here, lady! You’re supposed to be a GODDESS, this is Boyfriend 101 stuff!

So maybe my favorite part about all of Greek history is that Sappho was just such a BIG GAY BUMMER that it pretty much killed her. (This may or may not be true. 100% of what we know about Sappho is “this may or may not be true,” except for the rumor that she threw herself off of a cliff for the love of some male boatman, which is a vile calumny invented by, I don’t know, Athenians probably, who were terrified of women’s sexuality in general.)

(Follow-up parenthetical: we are NOT going to have an argument about Sappho’s historic gayness. If I hear the words “finishing school,” “Phaon,” “it’s impossible to know her sexuality because…” or anything about Erinna being a male poet using a pseudonym, I will shut down this entire website and send all of you packing.)

Anyhow, here are a bunch of paintings of Sappho in order of how super bummed-out she looked. (She was bummed out all the time because of ladies.)

It seems to me that not nearly enough of our collective time is spent dedicated to imagining which goddesses of war and death ought to have made out with one another. Imagine the luxurious plaited tresses, the simple linen tunics, the highly-developed back muscles from wielding all those broadswords. Who couldn’t want this?

If I could draw, I would spend up to and including 92% of my time drawing war goddesses from various mythologies making out with each other. I, however, cannot draw – but Nico Deyo can.

Here is what it would look like if Athena, Greek goddess of wisdom and just warfare, made out with a Valkyrie, one of the shieldmaidens of the valiantly slain in Norse mythology.

Previously on Femslash Friday: Mean Girls’ Lesbian Layers.

A League Of Their Own is part of a cadre of movies that made up the definitely-feminist, almost-lesbian boom of the early ’90s, alongside Thelma & Louise, Tank Girl, and Fried Green Tomatoes. A League Of Their Own is to a particular type of women what The Shawshank Redemption is to a particular type of man — if it’s on TV, we’re going to drop whatever in order to watch it to the end, and it’s almost always on TV.

Rather like Thelma & Louise, Tank Girl, and Fried Green Tomatoes, A League Of Their Own looks like a movie that was filmed in a separatist lesbian paradise, then four days before wide release, someone told the producers to try to make every female character plausibly straight. The compulsory heterosexuality is a sloppy afterthought — Rosie O’Donnell gets a boyfriend back home, Geena Davis pines after a distant husband, Madonna gets to dance with a few drunk soldiers, and everyone prayed that would be enough. No one bothered to do anything about Lori Petty’s character; it was too late to try.

There are certain phrases — “confirmed bachelor,” “keeps to herself,” “career woman,” “eccentric gentleman,” “as single as they come” — that connote queer plausible deniability; to a straight person they might just refer to someone a bit odd, but to the right listener it’s the same as screaming “GAY GAY GAY.”

Lori Petty’s Kit is all ears and elbows and mud-streaked determination and she’s GAY GAY GAY, and that’s marvelous. Remember how she gets announced on the field?

“Then there’s pretty Dottie Henson, who plays like Gehrig, and looks like Garbo. Uh-uh, fellas, keep your mitts to yourself; she’s married. And there’s her kid sister Kit, who’s as single as they come.”