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bigfan-fanfic · 3 years

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High School Musical feels to me like a very gay narrative, and doing a close reading reveals this fact. Long post ahead, with analysis of lyrics and story beats that contribute to a queer reading of the story

Basically, Troy is the repressed gay who hides in the closet, and Gabriella is the outcast nerd who is just discovering the gay, never knowing before then how she doesn't fit in. She talks about how she has been outcast before, because she was different. While in and of itself this is not particularly specific to the queer experience, Gabriella’s journey of becoming comfortable in her skin is prevalent to the story and a queer reading of HSM. Likewise, Troy’s growth in his confidence to do what he wants even though it’s easier and more comfortable to bow to societal pressure is also queer in its telling.

In "Start of Something New,” they both have that realization that this thing they're feeling is so right for them, they feel a belonging. :It feels so right/to be here with you” and “I feel in my heart/the start of something new” seems less to me an anthem for love at first sight and more simply the recognition of this feeling of attraction to someone - and despite Troy and Gabriella being ostensibly cishet, the combination of this song and the use of drama/the arts as a stand in for homosexuality in this reading make it feel as though both are nervous but excited in discovering their queerness - another interesting thing is that each of the love songs in HSM are gender neutral, and thus play the same if sung by two people of the same gender as by a hetero couple.

This moment is a growth for Gabriella’s queer journey - prior to the song, she is nervous and afraid to socialize, but afterwards she is open and excited to discuss with Troy their experience and be friendly. Troy is a little more closed-off, foreshadowing his journey of trying to stay in the closet - he makes a point of saying how this was something he’s never done before and is not a typical part of his character.

They meet later, and Gabriella's a little more confident, although not technically "out" yet - she doesn’t hide her interest in the “singing thing” and though she doesn’t want to be seen as the Freaky Math Girl, she does have no qualms about showing off her intelligence in class. Basically, despite this being a new territory for her, she is more comfortable in her skin. Troy, meanwhile, basically thinks about his gay experience but hides back in the comfortable closet, returning to being a jock’s jock and ridiculing Ryan and Sharpay, the story’s flamboyant representations of the “out” gays.

Ryan and Sharpay are interesting villains, and they read to me as what might be termed the LGBT+ gatekeepers, since we have drama/the arts as our allegorical stand-in for the queer community. Ryan and Sharpay are unapologetically gay, but they are also used to the ostracism they recieve and thus as a reaction, they have become fiercely protective of their safe space - Sharpay’s fear of the musical being taken over here reads as the worry of LGBT spaces being co-opted and appropriated by cishet people and thus returning them to marginalization.

The song "What I've Been Looking For" is a big jazzy pop number for out gays Ryan and Sharpay, further referencing their absolute comfort in who they are. However, when Troy and Gabriella sing it, it's a soft romantic ballad because they're still on the journey to discovery of their queerness. The lyrics are really gay in "thought I was alone/with no one to hold/but you were always there beside me" - the song is about finding a love when you thought you never could, and if that doesn't scream gay I don't know what does. Despite Kelsi’s insistence that Troy and Gabriella’s way is how it is “supposed” to be sung, the song works just as well as a hopeful romantic tune about the future as it does a celebration of finding acceptance of any kind, even platonic. Again there’s a reference to “this feeling like no other” - this song follows up “Start of Something New” as a continuation of the journey to self-acceptance, and speaks of finding comfort in the experience of meeting those like oneself - “I never had someone/that knows me like you do/they way you do.”

“Get’cha Head in the Game” is here to show the environment Troy lives in - he’s being constantly pressured, and the song is fast paced and imperative. It also provides a contrast in lyric theme, referring to the “head” instead of feelings and heart. Troy’s tonal shift in the middle of the song where he sings about his heart feels like now that he’s had this gay experience and knows this truth about himself, he can’t go back fully into the closet.

The posting of the callback list feels very much to me like Troy and Gabriella being publically outed as queer. When Troy and Gabriella are "outed," there is a reaction of support and others "coming out" in solidarity, but those voices are shouted down by those seeking not to upset the status quo. The song is chaotic and loud, with walls being broken down and students from different groups merging - Chad mentions later in dialogue that the social hierarchy is breaking down. Interestingly enough, despite the general tone of the song being disapproving and admonishing, everybody joins in the dance and shows support, until Sharpay literally shouts everybody down. This kinda feels to me like saying that the majority of people would be accepting and tolerant, except for a minority of vocal voices who dominate the conversation and push their agenda of hatred.

Homophobic Chad manipulates Troy back into the closet to protect the status quo, and a heartbroken Gabriella sings about how she "thought [he was her] fairy tale," and that really says to me like a gay thinking they've found a relationship only to be heartbroken by realizing the person was straight or too closeted to continue on. She “confused [her] feelings with the truth” and thought “[he] felt it too,” but luckily the ensuing fallout of Gabriella and Troy forced apart and into their respective closets makes their straight friends realize their horrible mistake and do their best to repent, becoming “allies” to them.

“Bop To the Top” is just a fun number, again showcasing Ryan and Sharpay as confident in who they are. However, the interesting part is that Ryan and Sharpay’s world is breaking down around them as well, just as it is for the straight people. Sharpay snaps at Zeke because she can’t quite comprehend this guy from the straight side reaching out to befriend someone of the queer set, and her walls go up. In her own way, she’s trying to restore order as well - however instead of forcing Troy and Gabriella apart, she instead tries to make it so they must prove their commitment to one side or the other - making it so that their activities with their friends take place at the same time as the callback - basically a choice between their closets or the queer community, but with the help of their allies, Troy and Gabriella bring everything crashing together - though the straight majority floods the theater, they do so in support of the community she has protected. At this moment, Gabriella and Troy have overcome the external queer-phobia.

And then the big emotional number at the audition, "Breaking Free," really feels gay to me, in that the song is about the world trying to tear this couple apart but with their faith in each other and themselves, they can rise to new heights. The verses each feel like an anthem to a queer experience in fighting against societal pressure and having confidence in who you are. “The world can see us/in a way that’s different than who we are” is about the pressure to conform to gender and sexuality norms, “but your faith, it gives me strength/strength to believe” they can break free and be themselves. In particular the bridge where they sing "more than you/more than me/not a want/but a need" gives me "born this way" vibes and describes the need to be who you are even when others might not understand. And yet, even in all of this, they are supported and tolerated - the audience dances in the seats and claps to the beat and supports them.

And then "We're All In This Together" is of course the fantasy of tolerance and overcoming bigotry within and without the LGBT community, where everyone is singing together in harmony, where there is nothing but acceptance of the differences that make us all special and unique, with the recognition that we are all human.

#just my thoughts #my two cents #my thoughts #high school musical #super long post

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teacupfulofstarshine · 4 years

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but i make these high heels work

summary: roman has something new that he wants to try out, but he’s nervous about his family’s reactions. he needn’t be; they’ve always got his back.

(OR: a birthday fic for roman sanders, set in my moxiety dad au)

a/n: i’m jumping on @notveryglittery‘s “giving the gay everything he wants” agenda. happy birthday roman sanders!!!

cw: anxiety, mild angst, fear of homophobia

wordcount: ~1.8k

read it on ao3!!

Roman carefully smooths his hands over the fabric spread out across his bed. He knows that no one else is awake yet. Not even Logan, who routinely wakes up early because apparently he can run on crumbs of sleep and nothing else. Not even Dad, the earliest riser out of all of them, since he doesn’t have any pressing appointments. No one is awake but Roman.

He’d tossed and turned all night, barely snatching a few hours. He knows he’s going to regret that later, but he also knows that there’s nothing particularly important happening today, so Papa and Dad will be more lenient if he decides to nap. So, rather than waiting until later to roll out of bed, Roman gets up a good hour before anyone else. He makes his bed - properly, this time, pulling off the excess of blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and tucking his thick quilt in. He never has the time or the willpower to make it in the mornings, but today.

Well.

Today, he has anticipation thrumming in his chest like caught lightning, and he needs something to do with his hands.

Roman showers, quietly. The bathroom is between his room and Logan’s, and there’s always the off chance that the water running will wake up his lightweight-sleeper brother. He holds his breath, keeping in all the melodies that usually bubble from his mouth in the shower, and is rewarded with no signs of wakefulness from his brother.

He doesn’t bother to wash his hair, so he doesn’t have to worry about blow-drying his fluffy curls. Instead, he spritzes them with dry shampoo he stole from his Papa and combs through them with his fingers. It takes him about fifteen minutes to get them to just the right state of artfully tousled, but it still doesn’t waste nearly enough time.

Which brings him to here, sitting cross-legged on his perfectly-made bed, staring at the fabric spread across his quilt. It’s plain, compared to what he usually wears, but he supposes that’s the trouble with borrowed clothing. Adding to all that, it’s not real clothing; it’s an old prop he’d salvaged from a box of costumes destined to be torn apart and repurposed. He kind of wishes he had the courage to ask Dad or Papa to take him to the mall to buy a proper one, but he’s never been that kind of brave.

Roman fiddles with the hem of the skirt between his fingers.

It’s red, at the very least, but not the proper shade of red. It’s garish and bright, like a firetruck, like a cartoon bloodstain. It comes down to about Roman’s knees, hanging in loose folds, and it’s not the most comfortable thing he’s ever worn, but he loves it. He loves the way the fabric feels when it swishes around his knees, he loves the way it flares out when he spins in circles, he loves the way it feels to smooth the fabric beneath him in a single fluid motion when he sits down.

He’s terrified to wear it out of the comfort of his bedroom, but he figures that today, June first, the first day of pride month, is as good a day as any to come out of the closet. Roman sighs, curling his hands into loose fists on his thighs.

His phone pings with a notification, and Roman almost falls off his bed as he scrambles forward to snatch his cell phone off his desk. He takes a moment to smile at his home screen photo before answering the message: it’s a picture of himself and Janus from last year’s pride festival. They’re wrapped in a rainbow flag like a cape, leaning their heads together and laughing. Janus has a genderqueer flag painted across his cheek, and Roman has rainbow star stickers across his nose and a rainbow bandanna tying back his hair.

Roman thumbprints his phone open and checks his messages. It’s from Janus himself.

[7:41 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): you’re going to do wonderfully, dearest. your family loves you, and they’ll support you no matter what. and even if they don’t, i support you no matter what. i love you <3

Roman wiggles his feet back and forth eagerly in a gleeful stim as he taps out a response.

[7:43 am] me: thank you, snove (snake love). ily2 <3

[7:44 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): are you ever going to stop calling me snake-themed nicknames, beloved?

[7:44 am] me: sno (snake no)

[7:46 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): i hate you <3

[7:47 am] me: i snove (snake love) you too <3 <3

*~*~*~*~*

Someone knocks on his door around 8:45. “Ro? Are you coming down to breakfast? I’m making pridecakes!” Dad calls. Roman’s stomach growls at the thought; every year, Dad makes multiple colors of homemade pancake batter and draws pride-flag pancakes on the griddle.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” Roman says.

“Okay, kiddo!”

Roman takes a deep breath. He slides off his bed and shimmies out of his pajama pants. Rummaging around in his drawers, he pulls out a white t-shirt with a swooping golden outline of the Disney castle on the front. Carefully, he steps into the puddle of skirt and tugs the red fabric up over his hips. It’s not a perfect fit, but it comes down to his knees. Roman studies himself in the full-length mirror on the inside of his closet.

“It’s going to be okay,” he sighs, reaching for the rainbow bandana on his desk. He folds it and ties it to form a headband which he uses to push his bangs off his forehead. “It’s going to be okay. Dad and Papa aren’t going to hate you. Thomas and Logan aren’t going to hate you. It’s going to be okay.”

Roman waits until he hears Logan and Thomas go downstairs before he leaves. He picks up his phone, glances at the photo of himself and Janus one more time, and then steps into the hallway.

He lurks on the stairs for a moment, glancing into the kitchen. Logan is sleepily gnawing on a bagel slathered with jam. Papa is pouring coffee into a row of mugs while Thomas helps Dad with the pridecakes. Roman grips his skirt tightly in his hands, watching his family, and then he steps into the kitchen.

“Morning.”

“Good morn - oh!” Dad whirls around, holding a spatula which he quickly foists off onto Thomas. He hurries forward, taking Roman’s shoulders, eyes scanning up and down his outfit. “That’s new! Where’d you get it?”

“It’s an old costume skirt,” Roman says. “Is that - am I - do you -”

Dad smiles, eyes crinkling up as he leans in to kiss Roman’s forehead. “I think you look wonderful, Roman. No matter what you choose to wear.” Roman smiles, hugging his dad tightly. He feels Dad reach up and press a hand into the back of his hair, rocking them back and forth a little as they hug.

When Dad pulls away, Roman’s eyes jump up to Thomas. He grins, flashing a thumbs up, and Roman shakily offers one back. “Nice skirt,” Papa says, wrapping an arm around Roman’s shoulders and pulling him in. Roman feels Papa press a kiss to the top of his head, and he fights to keep himself from crying.

Roman turns, looking at the only family member who hasn’t said anything yet. Logan is still placidly chewing his bagel, watching Roman with his typical calmness. “Logan?” Roman hates the way his voice shakes a little. “Do you like it?”

Logan swallows and sets his bagel down. He scans over Roman’s outfit with a strange critical expression and says, “No. It looks completely wrong on you.”

Roman’s heart sinks to the bottom of his chest. Logan stands up, scanning over Roman repeatedly, frowning as he stares at the skirt. “Logan,” Dad says warningly.

Logan keeps talking. “That is the wrong color for your skin tone. It does not compliment the tan you always achieve in the summer months. The shape is unflattering on your body type, and the material is -” Logan reaches out and rubs the material between two fingers, shuddering. “- is entirely unpleasant. This skirt is completely wrong for you.”

Roman recognizes the glint in his brother’s eye as he examines the skirt with a critical eye. It’s the way he looks at pieces of clothing that the theater department asks him to help tailor. “You would look much nicer in a circle or handkerchief style skirt. That red is hideous, you need a darker shade. I think that dark green would also look nice on you.”

“You . . . aren’t mad about me wearing a skirt?”

Logan blinks at him. “To quote that Avatar show you like so much, ‘Pants are an illusion and so is death.’ Gender is a social construct and clothing should not be dependent on the genitalia you were born with. I do not care if you wish to wear a skirt or not, Roman. Why would I care?”

“I was nervous about wearing a skirt because I thought you would judge me.” Logan takes a few steps closer, offering a small smile, and Roman feels his heart start to swell and rise like a balloon.

“I was not judging you for wearing a skirt, Roman. If you would prefer to wear a skirt, I will support you, always. I did not mean to imply otherwise. I merely meant to offer my assistance because that skirt looks uncomfortable.”

“It really is,” Roman sighs. “I stole it from a box of outgoing props.”

“Go put comfortable clothes on,” Logan tells him. “I am going to the fabric store with Dad later today. I will take your measurements and you can come with us to find a fabric you like. I will make you a skirt that actually fits you.”

“You’d do that for me?!”

“Skirts are relatively simple garments to sew, provided you get the measurements correct. I cannot promise that it will be perfect, but I will work to make sure that it is comfortable and flattering on your form.” Roman bounces eagerly. “Can I hug you?”

Logan tilts his head, considering. “Ten seconds,” he decides, which is more than enough time. Roman pulls his brother into a hug, feeling Logan’s hand flap back and forth against his bag as he happily stims.

“I love you, Logan,” Roman says, squeezing him tightly. Logan hums at the pressure, pushing closer to his brother before leaning backwards to signal that he’s done being hugged. Roman lets him go, settling down at the table. He can change after breakfast.

(Two weeks later, Roman comes downstairs in a dark red circle skirt embroidered with golden stars and detailing. Logan hums, flapping and rocking happily when he sees Roman twirl around and show off the way the skirt flares around his thighs.

“It’s perfect, it’s perfect, I love it so much!” Roman squeals. “Thank you, Logan!”

Logan flaps even more in response.)

#starshinewrites #little and broken but still good #happy birthday roman sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #platonic tlamp #brotherly logince #romantic roceit

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olivieblake · 4 years

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I know we are concerned about trump rolling back many rights such as Roe v Wade and gay marriage etc, and if there was ever a time it would be done it would be now with the court the way it is but I wonder sometimes if those two issues are kinda like carrots dangling in front of a horse. A major issue we have is the left has nothing to unite them there are so many ideas about what needs to be done and it's impossible to have everyone be represented by one person. (1) 

the right seems to push most everything to the side for the issues of abortion and gay marriage, and I guess guns and money. To me it feels like there would be benefits to stringing them along in order to get their votes year after year. Fighting to keep a law doesn’t give the same fire as fighting to change something as seen by how many on the left are willing to not vote cause Biden is exactly like trump despite the very real threat of the loss of these rights. I don’t mean like there is no reason to worry/vote cause it won’t happen, I think the threat the most serious its ever been but I wondered your thoughts on how much these issues are used to keep the GOP votes rolling in or if you think they’d struggle once those issues were gone or am I totally wrong, ha. It’s frustrating as a christian (or was idk anymore its turned so ugly) to watch others give up their morals for something they might not get just cause they are so simple to manipulate imo

I won’t lie to you, anon, this was... hard to make sense of, so let me open by restating what I think you’re trying to say? it seems like maybe you’re arguing that abortion and gay marriage are hot button issues that generate a controversial polarity where everyone is driven to vote based on their position on those issues, so if those issues were no longer on the table there would be nothing to keep people actively participating. it also seems like maybe you resent this because you’d like to vote your morals, but based on these controversial social issues you’re being forced to take a political position you don’t align with fully.

here’s what I think you’re right about: the american two-party system forces a polarity that favors centrism, or has up to this point. yes, the left is a collection of extremely variant positions that are forced further and further center-right as a party as a result of the right becoming increasingly fundamentalist. this is arguably the greatest flaw in american policy construction: the founders did not believe that anyone after george washington would ever garner 51% of the popular vote, meaning that there would always be a tie and then the senate, representing the states, would choose the next president. basically, they set up a system much more like the british bicameral legislature than what we have now, where the states would select the next president from among themselves. but because the federalists and democratic republicans mobilized the way they did, we have the system we have now, where every issue is essentially black and white; either yes or no.

dichotomies are inherently problematic, and while I do not agree that the left lacks unity in their policies, you’re correct that a “true” left does not exist in the united states; aka bernie and even warren should not be democrats if biden is also a democrat. that’s fair, or would be, if we did not have only two ideologies to choose from.

I do think there are some flaws with your premise (? as I interpret it) that these specific social issues are “hot” and/or controversial enough to drive people to the polls vs. being the actual, true defining issues for each party. I disagree. the politics of abortion are not about the value of human life, but the autonomy of women. the politics of marriage are not about whether homosexuality is morally reprehensible, but about whether the state should allow faith-based policy to control how two consenting individuals choose to live. in my mind, these positions are consistent with the concept that government should interfere against systemic prejudices, especially where it’s necessary to maintain our foundational separation of church and state.

the fact is also that the right is a mess. a true conservative party in this country would oppose ALL government regulation; they should be anti-gun regulation AND pro-choice, and essentially pro-everything that isn’t government interference. the fact that the republican party doesn’t fall within these theoretical lines is a flaw as a result of who holds power in that party: white christian men. in order to maintain their social power, they bend their political agenda wherever necessary to ensure that women and minorities do not gain autonomy where they have always maintained control. this is what unites the right, which means that the “left,” which is really more center AND everything left of center, supports politics that do dignify minorities.

would this be the case if we had multiple political parties? probably not, so your frustration is shared by many. you’ve probably heard this many times, but essentially the argument for biden, even by those who know he will not provide them the policies their consciences dictate, is that he has already shown he—and the party—can be pushed further left. he did not sign on with concepts of the green new deal until bernie and liz warren’s campaigns dictated that politically he needed to, at which point AOC signed on to help him build his own. so is he perfect? no. but if biden wins, there is room to keep fighting for what we want from democratic policy; he is responsive to public pressure. if 45 wins, we lose, end of story. fascism cannot be pushed.

morals are difficult to argue when it comes to politics. for example, the very popular but nonsensical “socially liberal but fiscally conservative” dichotomy is an untenable paradox that a person can only hold as a beneficiary of the existing system. when only one group of people has maintained generational/inherited wealth that allows them to benefit from a lack of social programs and government intervention, of course there is no such thing as having only one foot in the water. the overlap between the christian agenda and white supremacy is also difficult to separate, because while theologically christianity should promote certain values, christianity as an institution was born from imperialism, forced conversion, and a doctrine of constant proselytization. I say this as a catholic; I don’t dislike religious beliefs. but the way religion motivates political decisions is fundamentally flawed.

if your argument (or the argument of those around you) is that the problem with this election is that the left is a collection of ideologies lumped together in order to oppose some very narrow policy decisions, yes, you’re right. but if we pushed even remotely left from where we are now, we might be closer to the center, and then we can continue to push left. I would argue not that this is a time to abandon your principles just to win the presidency, but to at least be unselfish enough to realize that institutional change must be affected incrementally; to recognize that even if your life is not severely affected by 45 and the republican party winning over biden and the centrist-dems, far-right or alt-right policies do undoubtedly cause damage to countless others. you may not get everything you want from biden, but the opportunity to continue to achieve policy decisions you support is there.

try not to allow others around you to create a false dichotomy where this is somehow a choice between two evils; it isn’t. it’s a choice between a closed door and an open one, and even a baby step is a step.

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unfolded73 · 4 years

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Husbands: Two Years In (1/5) - schitt’s creek ff

Hi, remember me? I finally wrote something new. This fic is complete, and will be posted over the course of the next two weeks. While I'm including it as part of the "Labels" series, the preceding fics are not required reading. Previous fics in this series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”, Partners, Fiancés

Warning: This fic deals with depression as one of its major topics.

Rated Explicit, this chapter 5059 words. (ao3)

Thanks to @high-seas-swan for cheerleading and B13_MaybeThisTime for many valuable comments (and also cheerleading).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Winter

Patrick stuck his head behind the beige curtain of the storeroom at Rose Apothecary. “Bethany, can you cover the register? I’ve got to get to my council meeting.”

“Sure,” she said, leaving off from the merchandise she’d been unpacking and joining him behind the counter.

“I should be back in an hour and a half,” he said, slipping his laptop into his messenger bag.

“No problem. Is David planning to come back to the store today?” she asked.

“I doubt it. He’s gone more than halfway to Thornbridge to meet with potential vendors, so I expect he’ll be late getting back.” Patrick’s thumb strayed to the smooth gold of his wedding ring and he gave it a turn, an ingrained habit now after a year and a half of marriage.

“Okay,” Bethany said to him before turning to the customer who had just approached the register. “Find everything you were looking for today?” she asked in a cheerful, retail clerk voice.

Patrick ducked into the back again to get his coat and gloves and hat, pulling them on and zipping his parka up to his neck before braving the icy temperatures outside. Not for the first time, he wished the store had a vestibule and another set of doors to keep the cold from rushing in every time people came and went during the winter months. He made a mental note to add that to their wish list for a second Rose Apothecary location, when and if that ever became a reality.

David was certainly invested in the idea, spending more time out on the road these days, wooing new vendors or shoring up renewal contracts with existing ones. Hiring Bethany meant they didn’t need to be in the store at the same time, and while the flexibility was more than worth it in terms of the time it gave them to work on growing the business, Patrick had to admit he missed the old days sometimes. When it was only him and David at the store together, sneaking into the back to make out when things were slow.

On the other hand, there was probably something to be said for not spending every hour of every day together, he told himself. Marriages thrived on a little bit of separation. But looking up at the grey sky while he walked through town, it was hard not to feel lonely, the oppressive winter weighing him down.

Patrick ducked into the town hall, always drafty in winter, and pulled his hat and gloves off as he made his way to the desk he used during council meetings and during the one afternoon a week that it was his turn to be on duty, handing out permits and answering questions. It was a good system in a town too small to pay for municipal employees, and helping his fellow townspeople was probably his favorite part of serving on town council.

“Patrick,” Ronnie muttered as he passed by her desk. “Kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

Patrick glanced at his phone. “I’m literally one minute late, Ronnie.”

“One minute late is late.”

“Also, Roland’s not here yet,” Patrick said as he dropped into his desk chair and set up his laptop to take the minutes of their meeting. Ronnie had been quick to inform him that taking minutes always fell to the newest member on town council, although when he expressed his surprise at the idea of Moira Rose doing that job, she’d had to admit that Moira had never actually taken any minutes. Patrick easily agreed to take over from Bob, whom everyone agreed had been terrible at it.

Ronnie just rolled her eyes and waved a hand dismissively at him. She had sort of supported Patrick when he ran unopposed for Moira’s vacated seat (although he also suspected she was behind the whisper campaign to write in Ted the Turtle, Alexis’s former pet who now belonged to Roland Junior — Ted got thirteen percent of the vote), but that didn’t stop her from continuing to needle him at every opportunity.

Roland finally arrived ten minutes later, and they began working their way through the agenda as Roland wolfed down a sizable sandwich at his desk with table manners that his three-year-old son would have looked askance at. They voted on whether to have a stop light installed outside the café (2-2; tabled for further discussion after the next public forum), whether to confer historic landmark status on the old Hockley barn (1-3 nay), and on whether to finalize the calendar for the “Clean up the Creek” days in the summer (4-0 yea).

“What’s next on the agenda, Ronnie?” Roland asked, his mouth full of his lunch, as if he didn’t have a copy of the agenda on his desk. Patrick looked over, and noticed that Roland had emptied a bag of potato chips onto his agenda.

“The annual blood drive,” she replied, consulting the paper in front of her. “Canadian Blood Services is requesting six volunteers, as we’ve provided in the past, to log people in and to hand out juice and cookies after. We need to have the promotional posters printed and get the word out, and then a volunteer meeting will need to be organized by the end of the month. Patrick, you wanna take the lead on this?”

He looked up from his laptop. “On the blood drive?” His stomach twisted, and he considered saying no. “Uh… sure. Sure.” He typed that into the minutes, his fingers tapping sharply on the keys.

The rest of the meeting passed uneventfully, and they disbanded after another twenty minutes. Ronnie made her way over to Patrick as he was emailing the completed minutes out to the other members of council, a task he liked to do right away before he forgot about it.

“You didn’t seem thrilled to be put in charge of the blood drive. If you’re squeamish around needles—”

“I’m not squeamish about giving blood.” He snapped his laptop closed and shoved it into his bag. “I earned a lapel pin in college for donating blood,” he muttered.

“Oh. Then what’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem. I said I’d do it.” He stood up and shouldered his bag. “Be in charge of it, I mean. I won’t be donating blood because I’m not allowed.”

Ronnie’s eyes turned sympathetic. “Right.” She sighed. “The blood donation rules about gay men are outdated and discriminatory; you don’t have to tell me.”

Patrick shrugged. “It is what it is. I really don’t mind being in charge of the blood drive.” He did, a little, but not enough to make a fuss about it. If this was the only way he could contribute now that he fell into the ‘men who have sex with men’ category, then so be it.

When he was halfway to the door, she called out, making him stop in his tracks. “If our community always just said ‘it is what it is,’ then we wouldn’t have made the progress we’ve made. You wouldn’t have been able to stand in this room and marry the person you love. If it’s wrong, then we fight.”

Patrick turned and looked at her. “I kind of missed the activism part of the queer experience,” he admitted. “Although, I used to buy cupcakes from the GSA bake sale in high school.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes, heading out the door and leaving Patrick to follow her. “You are truly a pillar of the queer community,” she drawled, but there wasn’t any heat in it. She even patted his shoulder and said “see you around” as they parted ways.

Still, he felt unsettled as he walked back to the store. The extent of the time that he’d been aware of his sexuality, he’d mostly spent in a homophobia-free bubble. The people of Schitt’s Creek accepted him, his family (with a couple of notable exceptions whom he no longer spoke to) accepted him. He wasn’t used to being confronted with discrimination, and so even this relatively minor thing in his life, that he couldn’t donate blood — as anonymous and bureaucratic as it was, it was still painful.

The rest of the afternoon did little to lift his mood, and he dragged through the motions of closing up the store with Bethany, then drove home alone. He didn’t want to text David in case he was driving, so when he got home he checked the location of David’s phone and saw that he was still at least two hours away, assuming he was even on his way yet. With a heavy sigh, Patrick let himself into their quiet house.

It was almost nine o’clock when David finally arrived, the familiar sound of him knocking snow off his boots rousing Patrick’s attention from his phone. He flipped off the television, the hockey game he wasn’t really paying attention to disappearing into blackness, and turned toward the door as it opened and David came in with a swirl of snowflakes.

“It’s starting to really come down out there,” David said breathlessly, unlooping his scarf from around his neck and hanging it on the coat rack by the front door. “I’m glad I wasn’t running any later.”

“Me too. It’s supposed to be ten centimeters by morning.” Patrick leaned up and kissed David’s cheek, cold against his lips.

David grimaced. “Just enough to be annoying, but not enough to close the store for the day.” He braced himself on the wall and lifted first one foot and then the other to pull off his boots.

“Yeah.” Their front door tended to stick, not quite latching, so Patrick leaned over and gave it a little push, listening for the click of the latch before he locked it. “Did you eat?”

“I grabbed a burger on the road.” His winter coat off, David pulled Patrick into a hug, his long arms moving into their usual place over Patrick’s shoulders and wrapping around him. “Aren’t you going to ask me how it went?”

“How did it go?”

“I got the clover honey contract.”

Patrick grinned. “I knew you would. And the others?”

“The woman who crochets those little animals is still mulling it over. She might be a no. Belinda Jensen signed on to provide the larger supply of soap we asked for. A couple of others — I left all the paperwork in the car.” He kissed Patrick quickly on the lips. “How was your day?”

Patrick struggled to remember through the fog in his brain what he’d done all day — work and his council meeting and the leftovers he’d reheated for dinner and the hockey game he hadn’t been watching. “Uneventful,” he finally replied.

He felt a surge of irrational anger that David had such a wildly productive day, a day that materially benefited their business, while Patrick had… treaded water. He pushed the anger away — he had no reason to be angry with David. He should be proud of David, of the way he continued to work to make their business thrive, of how good he was with the vendors.

The remainder of the evening was quiet, David on the sofa intermittently reading and texting with Alexis while Patrick made a grocery list, and then another list of tasks he wanted to accomplish over the weekend. It only served to remind him of all things he’d meant to do this winter that he hadn’t gotten around to yet. He just kept getting paralyzed lately; going over and over all the things he needed to do in his mind, but not actually starting any of them.

“I’m ready for spring,” he muttered to himself.

David looked up from his phone. “What are you talking about, you love winter! Winter has hockey, which you love.”

“Yeah.” Patrick sighed. “I’m not really feeling it this year. I’m exhausted.”

Reaching over to rub his shoulder, David gave him a look full of sympathy. “Anything I can do?”

Patrick shook his head and stood up. There wasn’t really anything wrong, so what could David do? “I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you up there in a minute,” David said, distracted by another text from Alexis that made him smile down at his phone.

Patrick had dozed off into a light sleep by the time David crawled into bed next to him, but the dip of the mattress woke him. He rolled over toward his husband, lips against the stubble of David’s jaw, inhaling the scent of his moisturizer. “Missed you today,” he murmured sleepily.

“Missed you too.” David turned his head, brushing his lips against Patrick’s. “Mm, you’re warm.” He wriggled his body, snuggling closer.

Patrick pressed another kiss against David’s mouth, and then another, with softer lips — a little bit longer, a little bit slower.

“Thought you were sleeping,” David said, his voice syrupy and mellow.

“I’m kissing you goodnight,” Patrick said. Another kiss — longer still, slower still.

“That’s how it starts,” David said with a smile, his hand burrowing down and finding the jut of Patrick’s hipbone.

He had a point. There were times when they went to bed with no particular intention to have sex, but the simple press of their mouths together would ignite a fire between them. Patrick wondered if that tendency would ever fade. He hoped not. Especially lately, the physical intimacy he shared with David was one of the only things that made him feel good. It was the only time that he didn’t feel like everything was sort of disappointing and foggy, when he could ignore all of life’s recent shortcomings and annoyances. He could turn off those thoughts and feel the pleasure that David was an expert in drawing out of him.

“Do you wanna have sex?” Patrick asked.

David gave him a crooked smile. “I thought I was too tired, but I might be coming around to the idea.”

Patrick scratched his blunt nails across the back of David’s neck, humming into his mouth as their kisses got deeper and messier. His heartbeat accelerating, that good, fizzy feeling suffusing his body, Patrick shifted closer, enjoying the sensation of their bodies together through their pajamas.

Long before they were married, they established a pattern where Patrick was more often than not the one to take charge in bed, but tonight he wanted it to be David. He felt like he needed to be taken, and used, and useful.

“Can you…” he started to ask, then paused as he tried to figure out how to put what he needed into words. He still struggled with the vulnerability of that, sometimes. Of asking for what he needed. He found it much easier to let David ask for things.

“Tell me what you need, honey,” David whispered as they pulled off their clothes.

Make me forget that I’ve been feeling so shitty, Patrick thought. Show me you still need me.

“Can you hold me down and… fuck my thighs?” Patrick asked instead. The sex act was easier to talk about than the feelings that were underneath it.

“Mm hmm, I can do that,” David said. In the dark, Patrick couldn’t make out David’s facial expression, didn’t know if David was reading any of his churning thoughts. Couldn’t tell if David thought it was odd that Patrick was asking for him to be the dominant one. Not that he’d never been submissive in bed, he had, but he’d done it because it was something David was in the mood for. He’d almost never asked for it.

“Turn over,” David said, the liquid tone of his voice making Patrick shiver as he followed the direction.

Patrick reached over for the lube from the bedside table, handing it back to David before he positioned his back against David’s chest. David didn’t do anything with it right away, though, his mouth wet and sure against Patrick’s shoulder, hand running up and down his hip and thigh over and over, then coming around to gently scrape his fingernails across Patrick’s balls before taking his dick in a loose fist, stroking with a teasing lack of pressure. Patrick moaned, pushing back against David’s erection. He almost changed his mind and asked David to fuck his ass instead — having David inside him really would get him out of his head; it always did. But both of them were tired and the preparation would take awhile, and his original instinct was fine. He didn’t say anything, tipping his head to give David more access to his neck.

After a few more minutes of foreplay, David finally grabbed the lube, getting the inside of Patrick’s thighs and his own cock slick before positioning himself. Patrick clenched his thighs together and David groaned at the friction, fingers clenching on Patick’s hip briefly before his hand moved around and took hold of Patrick’s cock again, matching the rhythm of his hips to the rhythm of his stroking. He wasn’t trying to draw things out now; he was working Patrick’s cock to get him off quickly, and the sensation of it, the way it demonstrated how perfectly David knew him, knew his body, allowed Patrick to stop thinking and sink into the pleasure. He had just enough presence of mind to cup his own palm over himself before spilling over David’s fist, coming with a gasp and a bitten off moan.

David let him pause long enough to grab one of the little towels they kept a stack of on the bedside table to clean himself up, to keep the sheets unscathed, before pushing Patrick down onto his stomach and fucking more vigorously, his cock sliding between Patrick’s thighs and against his balls. Patrick closed his eyes tight and gripped his pillow and let David take him, let him fuck against him, his weight bearing down on Patrick’s back, his pelvis slapping against Patrick’s ass.

“Fuck,” David whispered, and then he lifted up, pulling away from Patrick’s body. “I need to…” he said, and then Patrick heard the slick noise of David jacking himself, and then very quickly the warmth and wetness of David coming on his lower back.

“Sorry for the unnegotiated cumshot,” David said as soon as he caught his breath enough to speak.

Patrick held the towel he was still clutching up for David to take, laughing. “You’re good,” he said as David cleaned him up. “I only need warning if it’s gonna be on my face,” he continued as he flipped over, taking the towel from David and tossing it toward the laundry hamper. While David went to the bathroom to wash his hands and then pulled his pajamas back on, Patrick considered doing the same, but then David was curling around him under their heavy duvet and Patrick couldn’t bring himself to move. He closed his eyes and let the drowsiness from his orgasm pull him under.

~*~

His alarm went off early, and it took Patrick a few seconds to remember why he’d set it so early: the snow.

Mournfully extracting himself from the warmth of bed, Patrick pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a hoodie, then made his way downstairs to don all of his winter gear. Opening the front door, he took a second to admire the pure, untouched snow that blanketed the world before he perturbed it with his boot prints.

Everything seemed preternaturally quiet, the snow dampening what little noise there was. Patrick thought there would have been a time when he would have loved this quiet, would have loved being alone with his thoughts while he did some meditative manual labor. This morning, he shied away from the contents of his own brain, electing to put his earbuds in and to listen to a podcast instead. Patrick fell into a rhythm of snow shoveling in the winter pre-dawn light — push, lift, throw, repeat — so he didn’t notice David until he was almost down to the end of the driveway where Patrick was working.

“David!” Patrick pulled one of his earbuds out, letting it hang. The cold had made the wire stiff, the angle of it unnatural. “I didn’t think you’d be awake yet.”

David had jammed his feet into snow boots, the joggers he’d worn to bed bunching up around his calves. A hat was jammed down on his head, covering his ears, and he shivered as he struggled to zip his coat with gloved fingers. “You not being in bed wakes me up sometimes. And I felt bad that you were out here by yourself.”

“You don’t need to feel bad — you’re covering the store today.” They each had a day each week when they worked the store with Bethany while the other had the day off, and today was David’s day to work. “The least I can do is dig your car out for you.”

David huffed. “Let me help.”

Patrick tilted his head to the side, regarding his husband thoughtfully. “Okay, David. There’s another shovel in the shed.”

David tromped away as directed, and a minute later he was shoveling in a parallel track to where Patrick had been working. It wasn’t something that Patrick could have pictured David Rose doing a few years ago, but David had seemed determined to meet the challenge of homeownership in a lot of ways that Patrick couldn’t have pictured before they were married.

When they finished and went back inside, David groaned as he bent over to pull his boots off. “Ugh, my back,” he whined.

Patrick tried to put a hand on David’s lower back, but his puffy winter coat prevented any contact. “Go take a shower and I’ll make your coffee,” he said.

Patrick put on water to heat up, rubbing his hands together to warm himself, and began getting things set up for breakfast: he ground coffee beans for David’s French press and got out tea for himself and eggs for both of them. He moved automatically through the morning routine, ingrained habits from their year and a half of marriage and from all the mornings before that, when David spent the night at Patrick’s apartment.

After making David breakfast and seeing him out the door with a reminder to drive carefully, Patrick curled up on the sofa with his phone. He had a list of chores he wanted to tackle, and he had a book he wanted to read, but he spent over an hour switching between social media apps, dipping into the first few paragraphs of news articles before dipping back out, not focusing on any one thing for more than a few minutes. He opened a couple of game apps, but closed them again just as quickly without doing anything. These days he’d been mostly avoiding Facebook — he knew the ethical thing to do these days was to delete your Facebook account, but he was afraid of losing touch with all the people he didn’t communicate with any other way. He opened the app now, scrolling through the posts on his feed, most of them family members and friends from high school and college.

He paused briefly on a candid picture on his cousin Sara’s page of her son Justin. “Justin’s last performance in Newsies was last night!!! Great job to all!!!!” Wrinkling his nose at all the exclamation points, he took a good look at his cousin’s kid. They weren’t at the wedding, but he had seen Justin very briefly at the engagement barbecue his parents had thrown for him and David. He’d been a gawky fifteen-year-old at the time, quiet, ghosting along beside his parents with the disdain for attending a family function that only a teenager was capable of. The boy in the picture was older, and something about the way he looked in the picture, his arms slung over the shoulders of a couple of his castmates, made Patrick smile. Congrats to Justin!, he typed into the comments.

Finally, he dragged himself upstairs to shower and get dressed in some clean clothes, regretting that he’d already squandered part of his day off. He could have gone into the store with David if the alternative was this, a day at home feeling adrift and empty.

A hot shower helped, and afterward Patrick started a load of laundry, settling onto the sofa with a basket of towels from the dryer to fold. He unlocked his phone and started one of his history podcasts playing. Most of the rest of the day passed by as Patrick did the bare minimum of household chores, interrupted by long stretches of lost time when he was doing nothing in particular.

Stevie stopped by at a little past five o’clock, flopping down at the kitchen table while Patrick looked in the fridge and tried to decide what he was going to make for dinner.

“Do you want to hear something hilarious?” Stevie asked as Patrick took a packet of chicken breasts out and checked the date. They were still good, and he figured they would do for dinner. A serviceable, boring dinner — the Patrick Brewer of dinners, he thought uncharitably. He also took out some mushrooms, and grabbed an onion from the bowl on the counter.

“Sure,” he answered.

“I saw Gwen yesterday.”

“Bob’s Gwen?” He pulled a chef’s knife from the block and sliced the onion in half.

“Okay, she hasn’t been Bob’s Gwen for a few years.”

Patrick huffed. “No, I know, I was just asking if that’s who you meant. Because she moved to Elm… somewhere. Elm Valley?”

“She moved to Elm Ridge, actually, but she was in town for some reason, and I saw her.”

He squinted at Stevie. “And?”

“And she asked how it was working out among the three of us, and it was clear she meant… like, she thought we’re a throuple.”

Patrick laughed. “We do spend a lot of time together, you, me, and David.”

“I know, but you’re gay.”

“Sure, but I can’t say I’ve ever explained the particulars of my sexual orientation to Gwen. Maybe she assumes I’m pansexual like David.” He blinked up at her. “Are you worried that people will think you’re off the market?”

Stevie shrugged. “The kinds of people I tend to hook up with wouldn’t care.”

“Fair enough.” Patrick felt the old impulse to reassure Stevie that she’d find the right person eventually, and he had to remind himself that he needed to take her at her word, that romance and love weren’t necessarily what she was looking for.

“Are you okay?” she asked with narrowed eyes, watching him carefully as he put dinner together.

“I’m just tired. Had kind of a shitty day.” He couldn’t articulate what made it shitty, though. It was the vague ennui that had been plaguing him lately, the pregnant rain clouds in his brain that were casting a shadow over everything, washing the colour out. “ You staying for dinner?”

“Yeah, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s always fine, Stevie. You know that.”

“Thanks.” She walked over and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, opening it with the magnetic bottle opener that Patrick kept on the door.

“Maybe I just haven’t been getting enough sunshine lately,” Patrick said.

“Do we need to get you one of those light therapy things?” Stevie asked, taking a swig of her beer.

Patrick chuckled. “I don’t know, maybe.” He bit his lip, unsure if he should share more. “It kind of reminds me of the way I used to feel before I ran away and moved here. But back then, I had a good reason to be sad. I’ve got no reason to be sad now.”

“Depression doesn’t have to have a reason. I mean, it doesn’t have to be because you’re… engaged to the wrong person, for example.”

He knew that, intellectually. But he wasn’t sure he really believed it, deep down. “I guess.” He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “When’s your next trip?” he asked to divert the conversation onto another track.

Patrick cooked and the two of them gossiped for a bit longer until David got home from the store, planting a kiss on Patrick’s lips when he joined them in the kitchen. The easy banter among the three of them over dinner quelled some of Patrick’s unhappiness, and he found himself laughing through the familiar see-saw of their interactions, as they cycled through every combination of two-against-one. They finally settled on the sofa, David putting on the episode of Derry Girls that they had left off with the last time Stevie was over. Stevie sat between them, leaning against Patrick’s shoulder with her socked feet up on David’s lap.

“Can’t imagine why people think we’re a throuple,” Patrick said, lifting his shoulder and adjusting to a more comfortable position before gesturing for her to lean on him again.

Stevie snorted. “In your dreams, Brewer.”

“Nope.” Then he thought about it. “Well, there was that one time during Cabaret, but I’m not responsible for who turns up in my sex dreams.”

David turned and eyed him. “Who turned up in your sex dreams?”

“Me, apparently,” Stevie said as she poked David in the leg with her toe.

“Ew,” David said.

“Ted, a few times,” Patrick said, which got him an eye roll from his husband.

“I assume you mean the turtle,” David said, looking back at the television.

“Yeah, I’m so hot for turtles.”

Stevie started flipping through a dating app on her phone, her attention only half on the show they were watching.

“What do you think of this one?” she said, holding up the phone so that Patrick could see the blandly handsome shirtless guy on the screen.

“Meh.”

“He’s got nice arms,” Stevie said.

“He looks like an asshole.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t be a good fuck.”

He supposed not, and it didn’t seem like Stevie really wanted his opinion anyway, even though she’d asked for it. He watched as she swiped right on Mr. Shirtless.

Patrick dozed off after a little while, existing in that place between wakefulness and sleep where he was still convinced he was following the story of the show they were watching even though his eyes were closed. He was distantly aware of the warmth of Stevie pressed up against his side and the smell of her hair, and of the safety of being with the two people who knew him best in the world.

(Chapter 2)

#schitt's creek fic #david x patrick #david x patrick fic #david x patrick ff #schitt's creek #my fic #schitt's creek ff

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quiltwork · 4 years

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How my traumatic childhood affected my sexuality

So I’m not entirely sure how to go about this, but I used to be gay and trans, and probably a so-called “gay Christian” if u can call it that. To be honest, my abusers were more of that title than I ever was.

My history leading up to it was rough. When I was 11, I was sexually abused by 2 of my friends who were girls. They were 12 and 13, in middle school, while I was still in the 5th Grade. They wanted me to be quiet and hurry up, don’t tell anyone. No reason why. We slept together watching a sex toy infomercial. I never told my family out of fear I’d be rejected for being bad and disgusting, and be thrown out on the streets. These girls were popular at their school and I went to church with them whenever I spent the night with them in their town. Their friends hated me and would bully and exclude me when they came over for parties. I didn’t want to feel the grief of the sexual abuse that night so I told myself I would forget about it, and it actually happened. Amnesia set in, like it did for every other trauma.

By 12, I was emotionally neglected by my mom. She was busy with work, the house, my unstable abusive older sister, my grandpa, everything but me. I had no real friends so I stayed inside with my technology addiction. Tried grabbing mom’s attention with my interests, never worked. I would daydream that I was a lonely orphaned crying fairy under a waterfall, who was going to make friends the next day. I drew myself and tried to feel good about my developing body, that when I showed mom and my sister the picture, my sister, jealous of my body and any time I could talk to mom, shamed me for the way I drew my body. That it wasn’t good enough like hers, but she was an adult and I was a child. It culminated into another fight between her and mom, with mom almost losing a finger and running off to the hospital, leaving me with my suicidal sister attempting to take her life again.

By 13, I was confused about my sexuality. Started liking girls and women and not knowing why. Tried telling mom about it, and she’d avoid the topic and tell me not to talk about it with anyone. An old friend who went to my birthday party developed a “crush” on me then. This friend was a Sophomore in high school, while I was a 7th Grader. She grew up in church and saw herself as a gay Christian. She knew my relationship with mom sucked, and told me, “I think I know you better than your mom does, sweetie..”. That was the beginning of her grooming. Of her dressing me up, doing my hair and makeup and taking me out. Teaching me ballroom dancing. Showing me gay pedophilic manga, how to ship same sex friendships in cartoons and anime. Pushing me to continue obsessing over an abusive gay pedophilic cartoon couple. Walking me over to the high school’s Gay-Straight Alliance Club. A Club run by a lesbian Christian woman completely cool with teaching her kids that it was alright to be sexually attracted to inanimate objects like tourist attractions, cars and probably animals. My grooming abuser basically taught me that God loved me and made me gay, so I should ignore those who are “hateful”.

I came out by 14. There was a girl who was obviously bi curious who kept flirting with me, so I developed a love addiction for her. Did everything in my power to get her to date me, and when she eventually gave in, she started cheating on me with multiple guys. Didn’t know it was her doing it, so I fought them off, or tried to. I had to make sure she wouldn’t leave me, that no one would take her away, that her mom wouldn’t separate us or the school, or else I’d be all alone. She was hypersexual, so I did everything she wanted, even BDSM just to keep her. Even though I didn’t want to and it made me at times very uncomfortable and anxious and dissociative, I kind of liked it anyway. It was a trauma bond. It was what I was used to.

At 15, I didn’t want to be a girl anymore and came out as a boy. I didn’t want to be doing anything sexual anymore either, so I was asexual. I very obviously was running away from my sexual abuse/grooming and the objectivity it placed on my female identity, but I thought starting my Freshman year anew was the best idea. My girlfriend began to back off after I finally told her I don’t think I can kiss and touch like this anymore, but I didn’t fully realize it. She wasn’t allowed at Homecoming, so my grooming abuser jumped at the chance to take me as her date without my consent. Only found out it was a date through the corsage via my cousin. My grooming abuser was now a Senior. I kicked off my high heels and ran away from the creepy dance floor of grinding bodies where she wanted me to be, and found my school friends and hung out with them until she found me, acting depressed and saying she was going home. My girlfriend avoided me to cheat in the bathrooms, even on my 16th birthday, so I broke up with her.

2 other things: Our GSA Club went downtown for a vigil for dead gay kids, and my grooming abuser used it as an opportunity to dance with me at the square in front of everyone. She also got me to tell my “transgender testimony” to her class to try to brainwash them too, and it actually worked and I deeply regret it. I was her trophy she worked hard to win and would show me off and use me to further her agenda.

At first I spend my 16th year depressed and subconsciously searching for a rebound. That rebound left me when I told her I was asexual, too. Then, I went crazy. Was I not good enough because I couldn’t make out and have sex? I tried a one night stand to prove my worth with a curious friend who decided at the last minute she couldn’t go through with it and left me there on the bed. I went home hating myself for being broken and not knowing why (amnesia), that I should give up on girls because I can’t make them happy. I became bitter at a world that only loved you for what you could give to it. I went into Fight mode, angry yelling and protesting at whoever and wherever I was. I dated a sweet boy who didn’t last long due to life’s circumstances so he had to move for his dying brother, dated an older guy who would avoid me or sleep on our couch. At this point, I saw myself as genderqueer and panromantic.

On my 17th birthday, my grooming abuser came over unannounced. I wasn’t planning anything and frankly, didn’t want to be bothered. She would not stop pulling and tugging at me to go out with her, I kept saying no, and we went on this way for hours. Until at last she tried to guilt trip me, saying, “I just wanted to make you happy...” and left. I ran away from my abusive school to a career high school for my last 2 years, with a lab full of girls and one boy. I thought it was the best new experience I could try having the best friends I always wanted. They sort of liked me, until I let one of them know about my past. Then they immediately began to exclude and bully me in the halls. I stood up for myself, and they hated me and started glaring at me. After graduation when I turned 19, they started cyberbullying me for a year afterward. I became agoraphobic and lived in psychosis delusions that they were watching my every move and knew where I lived and would find me eventually.

Within that first year out of school, God was calling me to Him. I’d always loved Him since before I could remember, so I went with the feeling. He called me to check into His Word about if being gay was actually alright, and I found out it wasn’t, and it shocked me. I couldn’t reconcile what I read with what I was taught, so I wrestled with it. Why was it bad, why why why? He didn’t give me the answers at first, he let me wrestle for a time.

On my 20th birthday, I drew gay shipping fanart, and that was the day the Holy Spirit held heavy on my heart that what I was doing was wrong. I felt oddly bad for what I did, so I went to Him with an idea: If He truly felt like it was a sin, then I asked Him to change me and I’d avoid all appearance of it for a while until then. If it wasn’t bad, I figured it wouldn’t go away. He would let it be because it wasn’t a problem, and I’d be okay with it. So I repented for 3 months, came back to check, and the feelings were gone. I saw beautiful women as creations of God, as my sisters. I saw those same sex friendships in cartoons and anime as just that, friendships. I was amazed, and eventually told God to reveal anything else I had been blind to, completely grateful for what He had done.

And He started to lift off all of my amnesia, leading me towards trauma and addiction recovery with Him 💕 So, if you haven’t heard it yet, that’s my story 😊

#detransition #detransitioned #ex gay #ex-gay #former lgbt

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smokeybrand · 4 years

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Venomous Visibility

As a creator, I always find the subject of representation kind of dubious. With the f*cked up Last of Us II leaks, the continuous misandrist poison leaking into the Star Wars canon from that Kennedy-led Lucasfilm, and the incredibly amazing portrayal of Jill Valentine in the Remake, this sh*t has been on my mind lately. Like, how do you write strong, female, protagonist without falling into that Mary Sue trap? How do you code black without being offensive? How do you write gay without resorting to stereotypes? I don't know how to distinguish a trans or deaf or autistic or native person through text without outright stating these things. Where's the nuance in portraying someone queer without it coming across as pandering? I don’t know if it’s because of my limited experience as a straight black dude who kind of thinks the current trend of eighty-eight genders and personal identifications is kind of ridiculous but i find the attempts studios make to cater to these groups to be adequate as f*ck. Like, Sarah Connor and Ellen Ripley kind of defined feminine bad-ass and they both did it way back in the 80s. Why is there this irreverent need to portray this misandrist energy in modern cinema? Birds of Prey was a fun time but it was way heavy-handed on that “Girl boss” energy and it didn’t have to e. Harley Quinn is already a boss and the Birds kick ass in their own right. Why does that have to be the focus of your narrative instead of actual character development and plot? Especially when you have that Ellen Ripley template? It’s weird to say but it feels like certain groups want those aspects to define the entirety of a character instead of it just being a part of them. I think that mindset is both toxic and does a disservice to the given narrative, unless the narrative, itself, is defined by those aspects.

I'm of the mind that, if you wrote dope characters, that should he enough. Take, for examples, Disney’s newest attempt to represent a queer character in Onward. I’ve never seen the movie, i have severe daddy issues so this hilariously outside of my wheelhouse, but i hear that one of the characters makes a passing reference to their same sex spouse. How is that not good enough? Isn’t that how it is in real life? I don’t see gays running around, shouting about their homo love from the balconies and rooftops. Unless it’s Pride. To add that little tidbit in the middle of a Pixar film, aimed at the notoriously conservative middle America, and not have them trying to burn down city hall is kind of amazing and, in my opinion, very tastefully done. At least it’s better executed than the way Beauty and the Beast did with the LeFou reveal. Like, holy sh*t. Talk about blue-balls. This fervent obsession with representation for representation sake or to push an agenda is absolutely repugnant. You think the character of Rey Skywalker would be enough of a lesson on that poisonous nonsense for everyone, not just Disney. Be it female lead, bisexual heroine, gay protagonist, whatever; If you're character is strong enough to be more than whatever social label cats want to code them with, then the representation is inconsequential. Don’t force something that doesn’t need to be forced.

I’ve seen representation executed beautifully. Euphoria is one of the best shows i’ve seen on television and it deals with a ton of sh*t that most SJWs want to fight about. Zendaya is excellent in this show and so is her trans partner, Hunter Schafer. The way that show is written, you can tell that there is an understanding about that culture, a personal connection to their world. That level of representation is outstanding and i commend the creators for giving us such a rich vision for those characters. That said, the strength of Euphoria is in the characters. Rue makes that show. It’s about her journey and everything after that, is a part of who she is as a character, not the defining aspect of it. That subtlety is how you represent an uniquely ignored demographic. That’s how you handle representation in media for adults. For kids, i think this is a little much. Not many nine-year-olds out there are recovering drug addicts.

I think the best piece of media i’ve ever seen in terms of representation actually came out of Disney years ago and gets criminally slept on to this day. Atlantis: The Lost Empire i easily the most diverse, accessible, and palatable piece of “woke” media, Disney has ever made, and it was never created to be so. Atlantis is a story with a female co-lead of color, who has her own agency, doesn’t really fall into the trap of being “damseled” and ends up being a Queen by the rend of this story. The male co-lead is an anxious, neurotic, nerd with a distinct lack of brawn, who beguiles the antagonists with his intellect. The supporting cast is a mixture of people of color, both of which are dope as sh*t, and various nationalities. I’ve spoken at length about my love for Kidagakash Nedakh, she’d be my favorite Disney Princess if she wasn’t a motherf*cking Queen, but i’d be lying if i didn’t admit Audrey had a near equal place in my heart for her sheer dopenesss. Doc is cool, too. Seriously, how is there no Atlantis world in Kingdom Hearts yet? F*cking Disney, man... For the record, my actual favorite Princess is Rapunzel with Jasmine coming in a close second.

Personally, when I create a character, I describe the way I imagine how they physically appear and let the reader assign whatever else afterwords. If I say a character is female with caramel color skin and lavender hair, it's up to the reader to define the minute details in their mind's eye. Is the Lavender a natural hair color? Is she black? Maybe Hispanic? Could she be native or Indian or something completely different? A lot of people have caramel color skin. Hell, she might just have a tan, I don't know because the way I see the character, is different than whoever reads it. I think that's one of the joys unique to literature, that ability to essentially "customize" a narrative to taste, which only amplifies my inability to reconcile this trend of "representation." A lot of people in the fandom attribute Ahsoka Tano as an LGBTQ character and i think that’s fine. It’s never implicitly stated but i don’t think it really has to be. Ahsoka is a bad ass and she displays all of that effortlessly. If you ant to ascribe a queer connotation to her, fine, but that’s not the part of the character that matters to the overall narrative. It shouldn’t be the one aspect which is harped upon officially. I actually really, really, love Ahsoka so i have a dog in this fight. Not so much about the gay coding, that’s a thing that doesn’t really matter to me, more the fact that she needs deserves more shine in the franchise. Thank you Mando II. Also, Dr. Aphra. I hope they actually give her a show. She’s f*cking awesome and, i think, a legit LGBTQ character. I could be wrong about that though.

If a character can be whatever you want them to be, why does it have to be implicitly stated? How is all of this forced representation and social agenda pushing not disingenuous at that point? How is it not more a hindrance than a strength? Why is it acceptable to have your token marginalized appearance, if it’s forced and detracts from the overall story trying to be told? Is it really okay to just accept such pedestrian pandering for the sake of pandering? Like, i’m not gay. How am i supposed to write a gay character without being an ass about it? The only way i know how is to be direct with it. Direct but subtle about everything. “Strong Female Character” should not be the one aspect of your character driving their development. You don’t need to create a Mary Sue in order to have a compelling female lead. Tifa Lockhart and Norah Price prove that. Your protagonist doesn’t need to be “the big gay” in order to be a bad ass. Ian Ghallagher and Willow Rosenberg prove that. Also, they’re both gingers so, you know, double the suffrage points i guess? You don’t have to write a potato who can do physics in their head, to represent an autistic person. Sherlock Holmes and Amelie Poulain prove that. I would definitely do what Disney did with Onward in order to represent a character of that type of minority because, to me, as a minority, i don’t believe any singular aspect determine the whole of a character. Race, gender, orientation, religion, and other social identifiers; All of those are just qualifiers to the core of the character you’re creating. They are parts, never a whole. These things are just additions to embellish and enrich, not the definition of who they are, as much as everyone wants it to be. I mean, at the end of the day, how lame is your character if all they are is gay or stronk female? How much of a boner is our story going to be with a protagonist as deep as a puddle because you feel some kind of way about visibility?

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ae0nx · 5 years

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FRUITS BASKET EPISODE 12

...I’m still processing. I can’t. I come every week and just suck this anime’s proverbial dick and I don’t have much to say besides... perfectly heart wrenching? Anyways...

Let’s start off easy. Cherry blossoms! So pretty. Although all of the scenery in this anime is just gorgeous

I really adore how similar Kyo and Uo are and yet they can’t seem to stand each other. I headcanon them ending up being those kinda people who are good friends but competition is the core of their friendship and they constantly fight for Tohru’s attention and affection. (is this canon? I dunno...)

...

Ahaaaa... I wasn’t ready. ANYWAYS.

“You ain’t shit, Shigure” looks

I just love that Kyo was so adamant not to go that he even rejected Hana’s threatening waves (like ‘I’ve been through enough shit already, I can handle this’) but he gives in to Tohru’s wants because... Tohru 💓Just slowburn me to death. Please. Talking about slow burn...

I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT! And it was still great and still everything I hoped for. Although, in comparison to the 2001 moment, I’d probably still favour that version as it played a bit more comedic especially with Kyo’s reaction to the skeevy guys. But it’s still such a great moment! Including Kyo’s ‘like you’d take it the wrong way’, it’s great and squeeable.

‘Wannabe playboy’ 🤣

Another moment I’ve been waiting for... MAKOTO FUCKIN TAKEI.

I think outfit appreciation goes to Momiji this week, obviously. #letboysweargirlsuniforms haha Grade C+ cos it’s a classic Momiji look and pretty much what we expect from him. As Haru said: ‘It’s a rule of fashion, to always wear what looks good on you’

DARK HARU. Always a fave.

It’s hilarious that Kyo knows that Dark Haru has taken a turn but because Kyo himself has such a fiery personality, any attempt he has to try and calm him down just ends up with him in a fight with Haru. Goddamn it, Kyo 😂

Yuki is the gay agenda.

- Also the English VA for Makoto is on fire this episode. That scream in the bathroom was everything! But yeah I think you get my point for this whole moment, very very funny and still stays as one of my top 5 moments of Fruits Basket.

- Plus, I just noticed! Tohru’s wearing Yuki’s ribbon! Super cute.

Ok... let’s get into it.

Everything about this felt perfect to me. The build up. The editing of the scenes between present and Yuki’s flashback to the room. The contrast of Akito to the spring scenery. The fact they met underneath a shadow. It’s probably the most this anime has felt like reading an actual manga, so far. I really wish I was seeing Akito from fresh eyes as it’s easy to see him as a threat when you know of the things that he’ll later do... Although, the buildup so far has been super intense so I think fresh eyed viewers totally get it.

- Also kudos x100 to the English VA for Akito, Colleen Clinkenbeard. The balance of feminine and masculine vocal tones and the sinister emphasis on certain phrases while managing to make it sound innocent is alll sooo good.

- In a weird way... If I were to just listen to this anime and not watch it, I think I could ship Akito and Shigure just solely through their voices. They go together really well!

*TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABUSE*

Ignoring the subtitles... the shift in Yuki’s expression from when he first sees Akito to when Akito physically touches him got me wondering...

I know that in the manga, Akito’s abuse has always been described as emotional but reading this scene... I’m getting more so of a physically (maybe even sexually) abusive relationship.

I’m not trying to glamourise it or project that emotional abuse can’t be as harrowing, but as someone who’s been close with people who have suffered from physical abuse all the visual details seem very clear to me. And the way Yuki freezes up from just Akito’s touch just gives me all the wrong impressions. (Although, you could argue that this is the effect that would happen with all the zodiac members when in contact with god, again, I don’t remember the manga that well). I’m open to discussion about this, if you guys are willing.

*TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABUSE FINISHED*

- The push that Tohru gave Akito is so in character. Even though that push looked like it wasn’t much, I love that she found herself shocked that she reacted in a ‘violent’ manner just cos she wanted to get Yuki physically away from Akito as soon as possible. I love.

Jeez, even that look back looks slightly inhuman.

AND THIS SCENE?!

That... is intense... and a little bit scary... Makes me question... whether later scenes... will be scarier... than portrayed before... I kinda hope so... *rubs hands together menacingly*

Also, I’ve forgotten a lot of what the dynamic is between Kyo and Akito. I do know it’s mostly negative (as with all the members of the zodiac) but... is Kyo not as afraid of Akito as the other members? I mean, he’s giving him this look, but he is also behind glass and a whole level above Akito so...

- Akito calling Tohru ugly and stupid is basic bitch behaviour and in a funny way makes me feel less threatened by him

I almost wanted to get a ‘proof Shigure has a heart’ placard when I saw this scene but then I got thinking... why did Shigure decide to let Yuki stay at his place? Was it all part of his plan? Did he maybe do it because Ayame asked him too? DAMN IT, SHIGURE.

But anyways sad scenes are over, let’s get some happy scenes to round it off!

Tohru pushing away her questions of Akito’s behaviour to comfort Yuki is A+ friend behaviour! We don’t deserve Tohru.

I’m using this as an emotional palate cleanser, can you tell? Also, THIS IS THE CUTEST TOHRU HAS LOOKED.

- Kudos to Justin Cook (Hatsuharu’s English VA) as well! Such a well needed, gentle moment.

Phew, I’m kinda exhausted. Sorry, if this got a bit trigger-y but it’s just something that’s been on my mind for a while now. But this was an excellent introduction to Akito. NEXT EPISODE: AYAME! (Kind of sweet we get a wild Ayame appearance straight after this happens to Yuki, huh?)

#fruits basket #fruits basket 2019 #furuba

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whindsor · 4 years

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So at the start of 2019, I made the resolution to read more books! I used to be a voracious reader as a kid, but between college and grad school I kind of...forgot how to do that? So I got myself a library card (clutch, tbh) and spent the year enjoying free books and audiobooks!

Below the cut are the books that I read with short reviews about them. They aren’t the only books I started, but the cool thing about a library card is that since the books are free, you don’t feel bad about not finishing them if you don’t like them!

Take a gander, maybe you’ll find your next favorite read!

Brief summary, meaning my favorite books of the year: An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir, Outlander by Diana Gabaldon, and An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green!

As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of the Princess Bride by Cary Elwes 7/10 IDK if I enjoyed this because of nostalgia or because it was the first book I borrowed with my fancy dancy library card but either way it was nice to read a first hand account of one of my favorite movies, written by an actor that obviously feels a lot of affection towards it. Snaps to you, Cary Elwes.

Wonder Woman: Warbringer by Leigh Bardugo 7/10 I read it because it was Wonder Woman! She saves a girl who washes up on the shores of Themyscira and goes on an adventure to save her from ancient magic forces. TBH it wasn’t anything earth shattering but it was a fun, adventurous read and an entertaining story. Minus two points because Leigh Bardugo got paid to write fanfiction and I haven’t achieved that yet.

The Selection by Keira Cass 6/10 It was interesting enough to finish the audiobook, and I continued it because I was curious as to what would happen. It’s almost like a medieval AU of The Bachelor. But then the dreaded love triangle came up and I didn’t like where it was going so I didn’t finish the sequel. Entertaining enough, but not one I would go back to.

Wicked Appetite / Wicked Business / Wicked Charms by Janet Evanovich 6/10 Again, juuuuuuuust interesting enough for me to finish the audiobooks. It was the first audiobooks I got with ye olde librarie carde so that’s probably why I was so attached to finishing them. Also it’s about a girl that has magic baking powers, which is also probably why I wanted to finish it. She has to track down dragon balls or something I can’t really remember but it wasn’t bad.

Outlander / Dragonfly in Amber / Voyager by Diana Gabaldon 8/10 I LOVED Outlander, loved Dragonfly in Amber slightly less, and could barely finish Voyager. The series is about a British WWII nurse who gets sent back in time to 1793 Scotland and has to navigate all that mess. Jamie Fraser and eventually Fergus are the crown jewels of this story. Outlander was fantastic to me, it was interesting and funny and saucy and all in all a good story about time travel and the repercussions. There’s like, five more books in the series but again, I lost interest. I’ll probably go back and see what happens though cause I think Gabaldon brings in new characters.

The Lost Girls of Paris by Pam Jenoff 8/10 A book about women spies in WWII France?? Fighting the Nazis and falling in love and being heroes?? Loved it. The characters were real and the fear palpable. Minus two points cause the love subplot was a touch underdeveloped but who knows man war changes things.

A Conjuring of Light by VE Schwab 9/10 The third in the series starting with A Darker Shade of Magic. I loooooooved the characters in this story, the plot twists were exciting instead of annoying, and the way that she uses magic and secrets and reveals were perfection. And I actually really enjoyed the ending, which is surprising. Would read again.

An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green 9/10 A super interesting story about a mysterious sculpture that appears in New York and the subsequent fallout of crazy things that happen. I listened to the audiobook and the narrators were perfect, the story is fast paced and has good twists and the characters are super real and relatable and fallible. TBH I read it cause it’s John Green’s brother (I assume, I didn’t fact check) and he did NOT disappoint. Minus one point just cause I can’t bring myself to give out 10′s a lot.

Cinder by Marissa Meyer 8/10 Honestly? People shit on this book but I really enjoyed it. It’s fun and heart wrenching and an interesting take on the Cinderella story. One of these days I’ll finish Scarlet which is the sequel.

The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger 6/10 Holy shit this was way more intense than I anticipated it being. It was a really good take on time travel and the way it affects people. Truth be told I never saw the movie, but this book was crazy and saucy and super interesting. I didn’t give it a higher rating just cause the time traveler knew his wife since she was six and that doesn’t sit well with me.

Simon Vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli 7/10 Both the movie and the book were good, with all the drama and heartache of 1) being a teenager and 2) coming out to the people around him. Very poignant and emotional. Didn’t give it a higher rating just cause it wasn’t super memorable to me? But then again, that’s cause I’m a twenty-something woman and not a teenage gay boy so while it was beautifully written and definitely a very important book, it just wasn’t one of my faves.

Lilac Girls by Martha Hall Kelly 7/10 More women in WWII! Now with all this boss historical fiction coming out I can definitely see why guys are so obsessed with WWII. Then again, I think I would be obsessed with any stories detailing how badass women are during the war. It covers stories from all sides of the war - including the Nazis - and makes it seem so much more real. I started reading the sequel but it wasn’t quite as interesting.

The Diviners by Libba Bray 8/10 A fun fantasy mystery set in 1920′s New York! With ghosts and demons and magic powers and flappers! I really enjoyed it and am currently working on the sequel. The jargon is what really gets me like it’s so Great Gatsby but better. Would recommend.

Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi 7/10 A patient recommended this to me. It’s about a girl imprisoned because she has powers and that is Dangerous. It’s of course a post-apocalyptic military state situation, and she’s trying to escape and low key start an uprising. A really good story with a really interesting voice to the main character. Like, this writing style was SO DIFFERENT and amazing, I’ve never read anything like it. I didn’t continue the series just because the voice was SO good and in tune that it kinda stressed me out.

Time After Time by Lisa Grunwald 6/10 An A+ concept about a ghost in the New York subway and the man who loves her. It’s an interesting take on a lil paranormal romance. I loved the lore and the historical setting (it takes place in like, the 40′s) and really paints a fantastic scene!

Berserker by Emmy Laybourne 8/10 Listen, this book was not something historians will be talking about for years to come. But it’s about a family of siblings who have magic Nordic powers and have to escape Norway and come to the US (which is in prime Old West time) to find their uncle. And they meet a COWBOY. It’s a story about family and love and also occasionally killing people because you have the blood of Odin or some shit and honestly? Catered directly to me.

Truly Devious by Maureen Johnson 8/10 A fun and cool murder mystery set in a special fancy boarding school. Maureen Johnson has been one of my faves for a long time and she did not disappoint with this! It’s about a girl obsessed with a murder at the school, and she transfers in so she can solve it. And the TWIST at the END? Great!

An Ember in the Ashes / A Torch Against the Night / A Reaper at the Gates by Sabaa Tahir 9/10 Another 9 because I can’t bring myself to give a 10, though if anything this series would get it. The voices that Tahir writes with are INCREDIBLE and the story is nuanced and compelling and so good. It’s about a teenager trying to save her brother from prison, as well as a guy graduating from assassin school. I don’t wanna say too much cause I don’t want to spoil if anyone reads it but tbh if you only pick one series PICK THIS ONE. If you like fantasy and stuff of course.

The Huntress by Kate Quinn 8/10 Listen. Mystery solving New York girl, post war. Men hunting former Nazis. Bicon Russian girl who was in the Russian Air force. Do I really need to say more? A phenomenal story that takes place before, during, and after WWII, and the wide variety of stories happening during that time. Great if you love historical fiction!

Sourdough by Robin Sloan 8/10 Just like Berserker this book probably isn’t something they’re gonna teach in English classes. But it’s about a girl who works in robotics on proprioception (!!!) and then?? Starts baking bread??? AKA everything I love in life so, you know, once again a book catering specifically to me.

Magnus Chase and the Sword of Summer by Rick Riorden 7/10 As always, Riorden delivers a phenomenal story with phenomenal characters. And it includes populations that aren’t often the main characters in literature - a homeless teen and a Muslim teen, to name two. I haven’t continued the series just cause I got distracted with other things, but I totally want to.

I’m Not Dying with You Tonight by Kimberly Jones 7/10 A grand adventure that takes place over the course of one night in Atlanta. When a riot breaks out, two girls who haven’t spoken or really know each other are pushed together and spend the rest of the night trying to survive and make it home. It demonstrates two sides of life, and how they’re the same and how they’re different. I listened to the audiobook, which had phenomenal readers.

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee 8/10 A story about a spoiled rich bi boy who’s going on one final tour of Europe before he has to settle down and run his family’s estate. His best friend and his sister are with him, and of course everything goes to hell in a handbasket. But it’s a crazy journey and an excellent coming of age story.

In The Woods / The Likeness by Tana French 8/10 AMAZING murder mysteries! The first is about the murder of a kid in Ireland, and the toll it takes on the investigators and people around them. It has an amazing twist at the end, and even though it takes a while for them to solve the murder, it never gets boring. Same with the second one! It’s a crazy situation that would never happen in real life, but she writes it SO WELL that i don’t even care! I will probably skip the third one cause it’s about a character I don’t really like and also takes place in the past before all of this, but I do want to continue reading these!

Stay Sexy and Don’t Get Murdered by Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark 8/10 A great book of essays written by the voices behind “My Favorite Murder,” which is a hilarious and semi-informative true crime podcast. But they talk about more than just true crime in the book - in fact, it’s more about things that they’ve learned throughout their crazy lives. Super eye opening and also really entertaining, and I actually listened to it before I even listened to the podcast, so I feel like that’s saying something!

#whindsors reviews #book reviews #2k19 books #reading recs #book recs #let me know if you read any of these!!!!#(also does anyone wanna be in a book club)

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thecocksockshop · 4 years

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Happy PRIDE Month, Everyone!

It’s that time once again for rainbows and psychedelic colors to flood the streets, for mega corporations to give a pathetic attempt at seeming like allies, for homophobes to worry about the next step in the Gay Agenda, and for the LGBTQA+ crowd to not take any shit from anyone telling them that they’re being ‘excessive’ or ‘overly dramatic’ or ‘going overboard in their quest for world domination.’ You know, the usual PRIDE shenanigans.

And that means it’s time for me to contribute my talents to this historic celebration: new CockSock designs!. For those that remember my End of The Year Survey from long ago, I asked what kind of designs you guys wanted to see more of. A lot of you really wanted some more animal patterns; particularly scales. Ask and you shall receive!

Here we have the main event at 50% off is the Rainbow Serpent Scales! and their two friends, Taniwha Scales and Salamander Scales at 25% off. The names for all three of these Socks were inspired by mythological legends that I thought were quite fitting for such beautiful designs!

(I had planned a wide variety of animal fur/scale patterns, but tasteful designs that aren’t boring as hell are surprisingly hard to come by. MaybeI'll have better luck for the 12 Days Sale…)

I’m sorry that there’s not a whole lot at the Shop at the moment, I still plan to have a Mega Drop near the end of July to help boost the Stockpile back up (and yes I will have a few X-Larges for you Size Queens out there!). I also got a small batch of Face Masks for those who may still need them. Unless I get a lot of PMs on my social pages asking for more, this will be the last batch I will do for a while. I’m glad I was able to help out in this crisis with my skills, but I’m running low on supplies for these and there are many more shops at this point who can provide masks in greater numbers than I can. Plus, I know several others out there have taken up a new hobby and have created their own! I know things are pretty crazy in the world right now, especially in the USA with everything that has been going on. My heart goes out to everyone that has been affected by all the chaos that has occurred in the last couple of months, hell this whole YEAR! Protests are spreading throughout the nation, including in a couple of cities near me. (Not too surprising really, my current residence is nearby a highly POC populated area and the police haven't been highly regarded in the last few years.) I hope that everyone who wishes to assist those in need, any way they they are able to, stays safe and informed as event progress forward. As cliche as it sounds, this too shall pass. Not quickly I’m sure, but I believe that the human race as a whole has proven over the years that when push comes to shove, we will support each other and fight for what is right regardless of what obstacles are in our way. We always find a way to adapt to and overcome challenges and at our core, we want to help our fellow humans to do the same. Okay, I’m off my soapbox. TL, DR: New CockSocks, Mega Drop in July, be careful, haters gonna hate and we don't care. (Do people even use these phrases anymore? I’m really showing my age here…)

Until next time, be safe guys!

#cocksock news #sales #photo op #PRIDE

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zamancollective · 5 years

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The Constructive Agony of Talking Politics at Shabbat (Or How to Survive a Debate with Your Relatives)

By Gabriella Kamran

Illustration by Sophie Levy

I wasn’t yet 20 years old and I had already forgotten what it felt like to join my relatives for Shabbat dinner and eat brisket without a side of political commentary. Was that a new phenomenon? Was I too busy spitting tomatoes into napkins as a child that I didn’t notice the moral axioms being thrown above my head? Regardless, charged conversation after charged conversation gradually emerged from background noise while I chewed to a dynamic that captured my interest and charted the course of my intellectual development.

It seems accurate to say that I entered the fray around the same time I started buying my own clothes. These were the early teenage years: I was testing the waters of feminism, experimenting with political Facebook posts, and learning that not everything I believe to be true is, in fact, the truth. Every young person has a moment of realization that adults can sometimes be profoundly wrong. Mine took place gradually over a series of weekly dinners, as my male relatives argued and I felt an arsenal of my own opinions weighing in my chest.

I will say with no qualifiers that it is difficult for a fourteen-year-old girl to wedge herself into a conversation with several adult men. First, there is the issue of a quiet voice, not yet amplified by the support of social affirmation. Then there is the matter of being taken seriously — that is, the unspoken surprise that I was not in the living room talking to my girl cousins about nail polish.

(The aunts, for their part, either ladled soup in the kitchen or listened at the table, inserting a comment when appropriate. For a long time, I interpreted their disinterest as ignorance or resignation to gender norms, but with maturity one gets better at recognizing weariness. I remember once my jaw dropped when a cousin’s grandmother expressed a political opinion out loud- something about Hillary’s foreign policy. I hated myself for being so shocked that she’d have something to say.)

I learned quickly that family debate is rocky terrain. The post-meal discussion usually unfolded as follows:

Man 1: This ObamaCare is going to put doctors out of business, I’m telling you.

Man 2: Just awful. The liberals are pushing us towards socialism. Aunt: We’re just giving more and more money to the lazy bums. Me: What about the majority of poor people who aren’t lazy and were born into poverty? I don’t think anyone genuinely wants to be on welfare.

Man 2: Oh, no. We send our kids to the conservative schools and they still get brainwashed by liberals.

Man 1: Question everything your teachers tell you, Gabs. They have an agenda. An agenda.

Alternatively, the “elders” card was pulled and the conversation stopped short:

Me: I don’t think you should call people _____

Relative: You can’t speak to me like that. How can you disrespect your family?

The more politically conscious I became, the more these dinners began to wear on my nerves. At school, I was learning so much I could almost feel my mind growing into itself. The classic teenage practice of finding oneself was in full force for me as I wrote school newspaper op-eds in my successive editor positions and defined myself in the lines of my rhetoric. Dinner with relatives sucked this pride out of my chest and pulled the plug on my budding confidence. I oscillated between righteous indignation that prompted me to sit firmly in place when the political debate started during our meal and outright fear that anyone would ask me at any point in the night about something of more import than my week’s activities. Family dinners became a matter of fight or flight.

I took refuge in journalism and books. They seemed to possess more certainty than my relatives’ armchair sociological analyses. I read Betty Friedan, Ta Nehisi Coates, Ari Shavit… and the fact that I considered these all to be radical texts is indicative of how intimidated I felt in political terms. My progressive ideals were no longer inclinations; I could use words like “neoliberal” and “reactionary” to match my relatives’ rhetorical skill. Vocabulary aside, however, a gulf persisted between me and some of the men in my family.

What was this gulf, exactly? Was it a generational gap? Surely an ideological divide existed between every new crop of cousins, fathers and daughters, uncles and nieces. Common wisdom dictates that naïve youth will always be more progressive and open-minded than their older counterparts. It seemed to me, though, that something more was at play here. These Shabbat dinners meant more than a blasé tidal shift in opinions, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

The time came for me to go to college, and I was surrounded for the first time by a collection of politically conscious people who had enough intellectual acuity to rigorously critique the elder generation’s values.

I met friends who told me their grandparents were “hella liberal” and still smoked weed on the weekends, and I beheld these friends in awe. This must have been the diversity they extolled in admissions brochures, the expansion of horizons — but which one of us was living in a bubble? Then there were the students who seemed to have swallowed their relatives’ platitudes like pills, rolling their eyes when they passed a student protest or snickering at T.A.’s requests to state our preferred gender pronouns. These students made me the most uneasy.

Mostly, though, college brought me a network of friends who shared my experience. By this time we had all developed standby strategies to deal with opinionated table talk: some blocked out the rhetoric and ate their khoresht in peace, and some, like me, often ventured back into the weekly scuffles like moths to a partisan flame.

But, of course, it was more than righteous indignation that pulled me back into the tides of argument. The supposed radical leftist hegemony on college campuses gave my relatives plenty of dinner table fodder on the nights when I made the ten-minute journey from my dorm to their dining rooms. They particularly liked to raise an issue with my chosen minor, Gender Studies, which they denounced as man-hating. As they prodded me about my professors in order to attack their liberal agendas, I felt the familiar nagging anxiety: Was the leftist haven I found in college making me tone-deaf, insular under the pretense of high-minded morality? I felt obligated to listen to every dismissal of Hillary Clinton, every racial slur, and every condemnation of Islam. This was my internal protest at their accusations of narrow-mindedness.

I still wondered what was really new in our political conversations. Topics had changed — Obama and McCain became Hillary and Trump, Al Qaeda became ISIS, gay became LGBTQIA+ — but the emotions I had as a young progressive facing several elder conservatives were constant. What were we all feeling during those semi-heated exchanges? We one-upped each other and attacked arguments at weak points, but what was the seed of all this debate? Perhaps it was a sense of familial betrayal.

We swear to keep family and business separate but there is no such promise when it comes to politics, although we know they are equally divisive. “The personal is political” is also true in reverse — to disparage someone’s worldview is an affront to their world. Political standpoints are currents that run deeper than the surface waters of opinion. Debate is healthy and insult is not, and the line between them is fine.

One August night before my freshman year of college, one family member reminded me once again to question everything my professors would tell me.

“These are a different kind of people. Really liberal. They don’t think like us.”

I wondered briefly what he meant by “us,” considering our often radically divergent opinions. He had been at the dinner table all these years — could it be that he never truly listened to me?

My cousin leaned toward me, interrupting my thoughts.

“Or you could come back from college a flaming liberal, and we’ll still love you.”

I was struck by the resonance of my cousin’s joke, and I still think about it often. By the very merit of calling one another family, we make an implicit promise to stand by one another and love unconditionally – that is, regardless of ideology. When we sit across the dining room table, embroidered white tablecloth stretching between us, and launch attacks intended not to teach, not to strengthen, but to change, there is a sense of combat that doesn’t belong in a family. These mealtime political debates are not a leisurely pastime but a battle driven by an attempt to win, and to win means to vanquish. Hovering over the platters of chicken and tadig is an intention to change one another, and the promise of loyalty feels contingent upon your next comeback.

Isn’t that what families do, though? We change each other. Any amateur psychologist will tell you that our personalities begin at home. Parents, and to an extent other relatives, are charged with the responsibility of edifying their children. It takes a village, and a large part of this is the admonitions and proverbs of the villagers. Perhaps my relatives feel this weight of social obligation propelling them forward as they critique my beliefs. They crave my confirmation that they are succeeding in their efforts. Maybe when I push back and hold my own, they feel some kind of failure.

There’s a Jewish parable in which a sage, faced with a crowd of scholars who disagree with his judgment, asks God to determine who is correct. God declines to comment. The wise men debate and eventually move forward with a decision. From heaven, God laughs with joy: “My sons have defeated me!”

The goal of true mentorship has never been indoctrination. Young people look to their beloved elders to create some kind of safe space to learn to walk, to stumble, to mess up. The goal is that eventually, the pupil becomes the teacher. A student who recites their teachers’ talking points is a student lost.

Through the ages, a 7 p.m. roundtable over plates of freshly-cooked dinner has been the family’s classroom. The curriculum is set by the routine inquiries of “What did you learn at school today?” and, “How was work?” Some families study in groups of three, and some are lucky enough to learn alongside dozens. I should hope that men in my family take enough interest in my growth to stretch my mind and challenge my thinking. So, too, should they hope I prove them wrong sometimes.

#nonfiction & opinion #gabriella kamran #sophie levy

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tyler-games-hard · 6 years

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Buckle up for a life story!

I’m not sure how much I’ve talked about this, but here’s how I figured out I was gay and what christian school taught me and how its okay to be gay!

Trigger warnings: Suicide, self harm, derogatory terms

This school was hard core Christian. It was run out of a church, small town based, very much so had that bible thumping redneck agenda going on. Most of the kids going to this school also went to church there and their parents worked for the school, church, or both, and EVERYONE knew each other and who they were and where they stood on the totem pole. If your parents worked for the school or church and you went to church there, you were automatically higher on the pole, and sad for me, being an outsider, parents didn’t work for the school or go to church there, I was smack bottom. Between the totem pole and the typical private school cliques, it was social hell for poor me. I was a California avocado swimming in a pool of southern sweet tea sat atop a mountain of bibles, with no end in sight.

So as a 10 year old 4th grader, moving from a Californian private school that was relatively laid back to a southern private school with strict uniforms and even taught Latin, it was a huge culture shock. At this same time I was also beginning puberty, and that’s about the time you start discovering which gender you prefer, if any at all and let me tell you that first year of being questioned which boy I liked when I really was starting to take a liking to the girls, was weird. I felt ashamed of it, but at the same time not. The stuff I was taught growing up that I should get married to a man and give him kids and be a home maker was telling me it was wrong, but something deep inside was telling me no, this is right, you don’t need to marry a man, you don’t like men (to be found out later I’m actually a bit more flexible lol), and it was deeply confusing. I saw my fellow classmates and saw them all expressing interest in the opposite sex, and I really was just hiding the fact that I took a preference to the girls by saying I really didn’t care. To be noted, though, I had been struggling with my gender identity since I was very young, before I even started kindergarten, so whether at the time I was straight or gay, it was changing most definitely.

Around this same year, 4th grade, I was introduced to an instant messaging app called Palringo after I got an iPod touch for Christmas. A quick overview of this app, at the time I got in to it, all you needed was an email, and you could have an account, and you could join whatever group you wanted. The age restrictions at the time were technically 13+, but hey look at me, rebellious 10 year old. I ended up joining a group for teens and lied, saying I was 16, using a fake picture and everything. I posed as this very girly girl in my online persona, I was somewhat flirtatious, “dated” a mod from the group (dating being we had each others usernames in our profiles with hearts) and learned way too much, way too soon. I was 10 years old and the people in this group thought I was 16 because I lied and were telling me about sex, anatomy of both sexes, and teaching me slang and phrases one would find in urban dictionary.

I became obsessed with this app. It took over my life. I didn’t really talk to people at school anymore, I didn’t talk to my one friend on my block, and basically my last couple years of elementary school disappeared on this app where I learned about sex, sexuality, gender, and drama. By the time I was 11, I had become pretty solid in the fact that I didn’t like boys, but pretended I did at school. Instead I was open about liking girls on Palringo, since people didn’t judge me there. I eventually found a group of people who I consider to be my high school friends. When I met them, I came clean about my lie with another lie, just not as far fetched. I told them I was 13 instead of 16, yet in reality I was still just 11 or 12. And I got along well with these people. I even met my current girlfriend during this time in these groups. But my real life in person social life was dead. I connected with no one, I became severely depressed, and by the time I was 13 or 14, I was self harming.

My depression came on about the time I was 12 or 13. I was t this Christian school that I didn’t belong in, I couldn’t be myself there, and my social life was dead between that and palringo taking over my life. I was also dealing with gender identity issues and being scared to talk about it with anyone. I certainly couldn’t talk to my parents about it, I had attempted to tell them about liking girls and being gay and they told me I was going to hell and took all my electronics and went through my private possessions. I couldn’t talk to anyone at school about it because that place was the same way, Christian and frowned on it. It’s not like I can change who I’m attracted to. So again I turned to palringo, which was fine communication wise, it just lacked that physical aspect. I couldn’t hear them say the words, or I couldn’t feel them hug me, and I really thrive off human touch in all forms, romantic, platonic, etc.

I quickly spiraled into being suicidal at the age of 14, already been self harming for about 8 months, at that point. I still have horrible scars from it that I’ll probably have forever. I had been seriously dating my girlfriend (who I’m still with!!) for a year by the time I was 15. It was long distance and text based, sometimes we could talk on the phone but had to make sure our parents didn’t find out, so that was very limited. She has talked me out of suicide a few times now, but the most notable time was the very first time. After living in Alabama and going to this Christian school, my dad’s job moved back to California, so we picked up and moved again. I was about 15 I believe, or 14 about to be 15, and we moved in the last third of my 8th grade year. My parents, for financial reasons, decided to put me in public school for the last third of 8th grade. I had never attended public school at this point. I’d only ever attended private Christian schools. Oh man did this public school almost kill me. I experienced outright bullying like never before. I’d experienced it before but it was always subtle and underhanded. At this public school, it was very direct. I was called fag, fatty, fat lesbian, and more of those in other variations, along with bullying in the form of the popular girls wouldn’t let me change in the bathroom because they didn’t like the fact I wouldn’t change in front of them. They would harass me and physically push me around. And of course I didn’t fight back, I was taught my whole life to turn the other cheek.

That small span of 3 months, I almost put a bullet in my head. I couldn’t talk to my parents, they disapproved of the fact that I was gay, they didn’t like the people I hung out with because they were also gay, I wouldn’t have gotten sympathy or help from them. I knew where my dad kept the guns. We were in a small apartment that my dad’s company was providing us and my dad stored his guns in the closet in his room. I planned it for a week. Grocery day, I would come home from school while my mom and sister were still out, I’d grab the hand gun, load it with one bullet, and stash it under my bed, which I did. It sat under my bed for 3 days. Every night, I sat in bed thinking about pulling it out and finally ending it. For all I knew, high school would just be another 4 years of this bullying. One night, I was sitting in bed after a particularly bad day. They bullying had been extra bad and I was beyond reasoning. I finally pulled that gun out. I was talking to my girlfriend, Jali, and telling her my goodbyes. I told her goodbye and was talking to her, trying to calm my storm and get the balls to just end it. She had nothing but soothing words for me. Somehow she knew I was serious, despite me not actually telling her what I was doing or about to do. I remember putting the gun in my mouth, loaded and cocked, all I had to do was flex that index finger, and I would be gone. Jali had sent me a message saying “I will miss you. You have been nothing but a light in my life and I don’t know what I’ll do without you. Please don’t do this.” I remember it vividly. I can see the screen in my head to this day as if I’m reading it all over again. I put the gun away. Unloaded it and stashed it back under my bed. And I cried. I cried so hard my eyes hurt for days. I bottled so much up and hid so much from everyone in an attempt to be the person my parents want me to be and to be strong for all my friends and for Jali that I was being broken from the inside out. I forever thank her for keeping me alive that night and the other couple times I was close to ending it. She kept me around to finally meet her beautiful self and finally find peace and acceptance.

This was a tough post to write, and it didn’t even really scratch to surface of the things I experienced in middle school and high school. Christian school showed me that even in extreme peer pressure to be like everyone else and in strict guidelines of who to be, you can still pull through and be your own light and be yourself. The internet and Palringo have shown me things my parents haven’t even talked to me about yet. I’m 20 years old and my parents still have not had a sex talk with me. I learned it from the internet and my internet friends. They taught me it’s okay to be me and who I am and that I am my own person, not something to please my parents.

Don’t fall down the same hole I did. Talk about your feelings. Be happy, be yourself, and don’t let anyone tell you who to be, from your parents to your friends to your partner, you’re the only person to tell yourself who you are

#gay #trans #ftm #lgbt #christianity #christian school #internet #palringo

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searchingff-blog · 6 years

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Chapter 6: Slipping

“You’re going to stop trying to get me pregnant too.” Cassi giggled as soft kisses were being placed on her plump behind.

It was early in the morning and the couple just finished making love. Well for her it was more like sex, but for Saint he was connecting with her physically and mentally. She had a way with her body that no other female he came in contact with had. To make matters worse Cassi knew what she was doing. When it was just the two of them she made him feel godly, and like what he had between his legs was magic, black magic that sent secret messages to her brain. It was all apart of the game she played, and he had no idea about it.

“I can’t help it. The pussy be soooo gewd a nigga be forgetting I’m hitting it raw.” He chuckled, taking an open palm to her ass.

“When I put that ass on child support you better be singing the same tune.” She laughed, letting him roll her over on her back and sliding between her legs.

“You trying to get me pregnant now and I don’t have a ring on this finger.” She raised her hand, and moved her ring finger back and forth. “How I know it’s real?”

“I don’t take care of you? I don’t treat you like a queen?” His face was more serious than his voice.

Cassi laid there quiet.

“Aight then. Better stop playing with me girl.” Her silence was the only answer he needed. They both knew what he did for her, and the pedestal she sat comfortably on. Saint leaned down, and pecked her lips. “I’m hungry.”

“You want your favorite?” She caressed his face.

“You already know I do.”

They connected lips once more, and then he rolled on his side of the bed.

Cassi slid off the bed, and grabbed her robe out of the closet. She walked out the room, and headed down the hall to the kitchen to whip up loaded french toast, eggs, and hot sausage.

TEN MINUTES LATER

The aroma from the kitchen was traveling into the room, and only made Saint hungrier. He knew that the food had to be nearly finished by now, but was going to stay in bed until she called him. It was still early, and nothing entertaining was on TV besides reruns that he didn’t feel like watching, so the TV ended up on some random movie. His undivided attention was on the movie until the bed started vibrating. At first he thought it was his phone, but when he found the rose gold IPhone he saw that it wasn’t his.

Zeus 😄: Good morning beautiful

Zeus 😄: You miss me?

“What the fuck?” He whispered to himself.

Saint could feel his blood boiling. He knew the two of them were friends, but to text her that early in the morning as if Cassi was his girl infuriated him. The angel on his shoulder was telling him to calm down, but he couldn’t. He jumped out of bed, and glided down the hall.

“Good morning beautiful, you miss me?” His face emotionless.

“It hasn’t been that long.” She chuckled, facing the opposite direction.

“Nah, I ain’t the one missing you. It’s this nigga Zeus texting sweet shit in the fucking morning.”

The moment his name collided with her eardrum she was cursing herself out in her head. How could she be stupid enough to leave her phone in the bed? She needed to gain her composure quick.

“First calm down, and second I’m sure he meant to send that to someone else.” She turned the stove off and faced him.

“Fuck all that shit he know who he texting. Open your phone, and let me see the thread.” He offered the phone towards her.

“I’m not doing that. You don’t trust me? Really Saint?” Playing the victim was her go to plan, because what was inside that thread he wasn’t going to be able to handle.

“Open the damn phone and i’ll tell you.” He stared her down.

Most of the time it was hard for him to put his foot down with her, but he knew how Zeus operated from what Azure went through.

“You can tell me now because i’m not doing that shit.”

Cassi not opening her phone was making him more suspicious.

“What the fuck you got to hide? Something obviously with this gay ass smiley emoji next to his name. You got me fucked up Cassi.” He placed the phone down on the counter.

Saint wanted to trust her, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. If it was nothing he had no problem apologizing once she proved to him that it wasn’t nothing. Instead she let his suspicions heighten.

“The food is done asshole.” She rolled her eyes, turning back around to make plates.

“I lost my appetite. Go feed it to the nigga that misses your ass.” He made his way back to the to the room.

“Are you serious right now?”

Her response was the bedroom door being slammed. Cassie dropped the spoonful of eggs and picked up her phone.

Cass 👅: Why the fuck would you text me that. Saint seen that shit, and now he’s pissed. Thanks a lot asshole.

After she sent that text she erased the thread, and blocked his number. There was too much evidence in those messages. The bedroom door opened back up, and Saint came around the corner fully dressed.

“Where you going?” She questioned, looking him over.

“To go get something to eat. I need some fresh air.” He grabbed his keys off the coffee table.

“Bye.” She said carefree. Arguing with him this early in the morning wasn’t on her agenda

As much as he wanted what she cooked he needed to teach her a lesson. Hopefully she was going to get it.

——————————–

It was around two in the afternoon when Hazel pulled up to Razor Cutz, the barbershop Zeus worked at, with food and a couple things she needed to get off her chest. Zeus was like her brother, so when she needed somebody to talk to about Roman she went to him for advice. He was an unbiased and neutral ear that would tell her if she was wrong in the situation. However, Azure was her blood sister and what happened to her the other night at the club was unacceptable. Things, women, baby mommas, hoes needed to be put in place and he was the one who needed to do it.

“Hey yall.” She waved and smiled at the other barbers in the shop. “Not you tho. We got some shit that needs to be handled and addressed.” She pointed at Zeus.

“What this clown do now?” One of the barbers joked.

“Mane, shut ya ass up.” Zeus laughed, motioning for her to come to the back with him.

The two walked to the back of the barbershop, and he closed the door behind them. He knew what she was coming to chew him out about, and even though he handled it already he was going to take it like a man.

“Curry goat, rice and peas?” He took the bag of food.

“Yeah, my momma still be looking out for you.” She rolled her eyes.

“She a saint forreal.” He opened the container, and let the aroma fill his nostrils up.

After everything that had happened between Zeus and Azure, her mom still made sure he was taken care of. They’d been together so long he had become apart of the family.

“You know who’s not a saint, Azure. You need to get your baby mother in check because shit like that can’t happen again. It won’t happen again.” Her voice was stern, and the emotion her face portrayed was severe.

“You’re right, and that’s why I took care of it already. AZ won’t have to worry about her anymore.” He said reassuringly.

“Good, because come time for my dinner I don’t need any drama to pour out onto the table.”

“What’s this big dinner for again?” He asked before stuffing his face.

“It’s a surprise.”

In reality the dinner was put in place to be the night they revealed that they were pregnant. Hazel wanted to cancel it after the miscarriage, but Roman suggested they still did it to have a good time. It took a minute for her to agree, but she finally did. Now they were using the dinner as the time to reveal the new house. She prayed and hoped that they were on good terms that day. Things had been chaotic in their household, and she wasn’t sure how they were going to recover after this. Marriages weren’t easy and they took some fighting to stay afloat, but this seemed like it was either going to make or break them.

“Also, Azure will be there and she already said she doesn’t want no parts of you, so don’t go thinking you’re going to weasel your way back in, because it ain’t happening. Your baby mom’s fucked that up for you.” That was one of the reasons why she invited the both of them, and her plan had already failed.

“I wasn’t going to mess with her regardless. I’m just going to apologize, and keep it pushing.” He lied, knowing he planned on seeing if she’d do dinner or a movie with him.

“Nope, I’ll let her know because you stay doing other shit.” She chuckled, reaching in her black leather MK bag for her phone.

A couple weeks back Hazel started to get these weird text messages regarding her husband. The first time she didn’t pay it any mind, because she just thought somebody was playing on her phone. It didn’t become a pressing matter for her until they started sending pictures of him. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the riddle, or figure out the encoded message behind it.

“Look at this.” She pulled up a message, and handed him the phone.

Unknown Number: Is your husband as ride or die as you think? You might want to question him about some of the company he keeps.

Zeus furrowed his brows at the message. He had no idea what the person could have been talking about.

“What you think they talkin about?”

“That he’s cheating. What else could it be?”

Zeus laughed, and shook his head. “Women always go straight for cheating. Trust me, that man loves you and he aint fucking no other bitch.”

“I don’t know, we been at odds for a minute now.”

“About what?” He looked at her with confusion. They seemed to have the perfect relationship.

“Family stuff.” She thought about bringing him in on the miscarriage information, but didn’t want to deal with those emotions again. Everything about the situation she was still healing from, and each time she brought it up she broke down.

“Ohhh, mane you talkin like it’s deep shit that y'all can’t get passed. You two will work it out.”

Zeus always congratulated Roman on being able to stick with one woman, and be faithful to her. He wanted that for himself, but the one he wanted didn’t want anything to do with him. When he was with Azure he had it good. She was everything that he ever wanted in a women, but he let temptation shatter it, and didn’t realize it until after jail. Jail turned him into a new man, and he wasn’t going to give up on her just yet. He had a couple things up his sleeve.

“I hope you’re right, but you good?” She asked, standing up. Hazel had some work errands to run.

“Yeah, go handle your business sis.” He assured her she was good to go.

“Alright, stay outta trouble.” She walked by him, and patted his shoulder.

“Ya know I’m a feign for it.” He laughed, finishing off the rest of the food.

———————————

Cassi’s day had been horrible, and it was all because a man got comfortable. Zeus was a good lay, but it seemed like he let that cloud his judgement this morning. She hadn’t been able to reach Saint all day, and that was something she wasn’t used to. Usually he would throw a fit, and come home, or call her within thirty minutes. This wasn’t like him, and it made her feel uneasy. All she wanted to do was tear a hole into the side of Zeus’ face with her words of fury.

She drove into the city just for him. Knowing him he was the last person in the shop, so interrupting his business wasn’t going to be a factor. When she pulled up she sat out front to make sure nobody else was inside. Everything looked good, so she exited the car with anger plastered on her face.

“Nigga are you dumb, or just fucking stupid?” She walked into the shop with no positive introduction.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He looked at her, taken back by her approach.

“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. Why text me some shit like that knowing damn well I have a man? You’re a pro at cheating and being a fucking side nigga so you should know the damn rules.” She wasn’t aware of how furious she actually was.

“Hold the fuck up. Don’t bring your thot ass up in here talking crazy at me, because your dumb ass was sloppy with your shit.” He was irritated.

“Thot? Who the fu-”

“You bitch, fuck else I’m talking to and go ahead and say some more reckless shit so I can hurt your feelings some more.” He stared down at her with the intent of doing so already. “You can play this shit with that scrub, but dont bring your ass in here talking to me out the side of ya neck like I won’t violate.”

“Fuck you Zeus.” She was surprised by what he was saying.

“Your hoe ass already did that. How you fix your lips to talk about anybody being a pro cheater? Your whole relationship is a fucking cheat. That nigga was the first to wife you up instead of passing you along to the next, and you too dumb to realize it, so niggas like me come and catch a nut because the pussy is decent, and the head is good. You fucked around, and let him see the message that’s on your ass. You forget the shit I did for your ass?” He paused to stare her down to let the question sink in.

“Yeah…” He voice was as tiny as a mouse.

“Yeah! I killed for your ass, and fucked up my life and didn’t snitch on you. So if I want to text you, call you, hell even pull up and tell you to bring ya ass outside I can do that. Because wasn’t nobody else gonna handle that nigga after he put you in the hospital, and almost killed ya ass.”

Cassi was the reason Juan was dead. She was dating him, and sleeping with Zeus at the same time. When she ended up in the hospital, face rearranged, in a coma, somebody had to do something and he stepped up to the plate. When she finally woke up she set him up, and instead of meeting her he met the end of Zeus’ barrel. That wasn’t his main chick, but he had a soft spot for her. There were multiple times he regretted doing what he did, but right now was the icing on the cake and it showed him that she didn’t appreciate what he did for her.

“Take ya ass the fuck home.” He waved her off, and went back to cleaning up the shop.

Cassi was shocked at the verbal abuse she received. Her body was numb and she couldnt move until he told her so. On her way out the door tears streamed down her face. She hadn’t felt this low in a long time, and didn’t think she could ever feel this way again. Her hand was shaking as she tried to place the key in the ignition. Finally, she started the car and sped off almost hitting a car coming from behind her.

The car wasn’t the only thing she missed. The man in all black who heard their entire conversation was missed as well. He’d been following her for some days now.

“Yeah, Lena I think you might have to pick up his old girl.”

#dave east #dave east ff #dave east fanfic #chris brown #chris brown ff #chris brown fanfic #blac chyna #aaliyahjay #ff #fanfic #urban ff #urban fanfic #chapter6

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smokeybrandreviews · 4 years

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Venomous Visibility

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proudliberal11 · 7 years

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LGBTQ Bigotry Wrapped in Religion

In yet another discussion with intolerant and hateful Trump supporters on social media I was once again reminded of what was at stake in this last presidential election. The hope was that if Hillary Clinton won then we would continue to be the compassionate and tolerant nation we were under Obama but when she didn’t the bigotry once again came to the forefront. Yes, we know that it is always there but now with a person who has a history of such bigotry in the highest office, they feel they are free reign to behave this way and one of the ways they behave is to show their intolerance towards the LGBT community in this country.

I had a discussion about LGBT people and once again these people showed who they really are while pretending that they are trying to “help” and pray for the “sinner”, nobody including me is buying that. Those who oppose Muslims, immigrants, LGBT people, and so many more have one thing in common and that is that they have hate in their hearts while claiming they do not. They always start off by saying, “I don’t hate gay people” and then go on to as you can guess, hate gay people and the remarks they make are harmful yet they cannot see it. They like to hide behind the Bible and claim that God said it not them but this is untrue.

Jesus never said one thing about the issue of homosexuality and was someone who loved and accepted everyone yet they use the six outdated verses in Bible about the issue to show that God is against homosexuality and thus as justification for them to discriminate and hate the LGBT community and also the GOP lawmakers whether they admit it or not also do this. They are always doing what they can to remove LGBT rights and hurt the community and this is obvious by them doing what they can to oppose things like the Equality Act, LGBT work and housing rights, and even go after marriage equality. They do everything to keep the people in this community unequal and fight against the progress we have made over the years and the non-politicians are worse.

They claim that it is the left who hates but it is the opposite, they are the ones that hate and it isn’t just the LGBT community they are against, they are very hateful towards Muslims, immigrants, the poor, and so many more. They like to use straw arguments and try to put it back on the left claiming that we are the intolerant ones but it is obvious they are. These people try to excuse their hateful behavior by pointing out that Muslims “throw gays off buildings” and call us hypocrites for supporting Islam when this also is a false argument and is just an excuse for their own hate.

Yes, we know that there countries that treat LGBT people poorly and kill us but that doesn’t mean we have to hate the tens of millions of decent and good Muslims like they do. It is possible to be gay and support Muslims while also opposing hate where it comes up whether that be Muslim nations who kill LGBT people or conservatives who try to hurt this community or the hate crimes done against them by the right. These folks like to excuse their behavior and what they do by demonizing others including Muslims. It will not work, we know that the Christian right isn’t very Christian at all as calling LGBT people things like “abnormal”, “mentally ill”, and “sick” are not only false but also very disrespectful and hateful.

The facts are that LGBT people are not any of those things and the American Psychiatric Association even stated so when they did the right thing and removed homosexuality from the DSM, which is the manual used for all psych disorders. There are many professionals and academic researchers who also say that homosexuality is completely normal and not a mental disorder but yet they continue to spread the lies that it is abnormal, it is a lie. Being LGBT is normal and should be accepted and the future for the movement depends on us standing up to these hurtful falsehoods and myths, we must do what we can to move forward and fight for the future of the community and LGBT rights despite what Trump, Pence, and the Christian right are trying to do to the progress we have made in recent years.

So, what is in store for the future for LGBT rights?

I believe that in order to know where we are going we first have to know where we have been to know where we are going and I hope people can see where we have been on this issue based on the previous posts on the issue I have written as well as in my book Defending Equality and by seeing this I hope that it helps to know where we are going and how we get there as that is the goal here. We have come so far my friends but we cannot stop here as the fight for equality never ends and is always raging on, especially when there are so many who want to see us fail, we cannot! We also cannot be silent about injustice around the world including how our LGBT brothers and sisters are treated in places like Chechnya even if Donald Trump will not call it out and stand up for oppressed LGBT people both here and abroad.

The reason we cannot give up is because those who have gone before us did not fight so hard for equality just so we would stop fighting, the time is now to keep going and to keep up the fight as there are those who will come after us who need to know there is hope will count on us like we counted on those who fought years ago for LGBT rights. The future for the movement is always happening in the present and it is up to each one of us to keep that fight going so people will know that change is possible but more than that, hope is possible, they need to know that and we must keep fighting so they do.

The future as we stand now is unknown as the LGBT rights victories of the past are at risk as there are many who want to get rid of LGBT rights and they may have the power to do just that, we cannot let them and that is why for the future of our movement to carry on each one of us has to commit to the fight. How do we do that? We do that by speaking out and by refusing to back down and we do that by believing in each other and believing in what we are fighting for. What happens in the coming weeks, months, and years for this movement depends upon what we do now and how we move forward and how we advance the rights of LGBT Americans as well as LGBT people across the globe.

Speaking of the Equality Act, it must be part of this future as LGBT rights deserve to be protected and the right has done nothing but try to take away these rights here in America for decades and continues to do so, this piece of legislation is essential to protecting the rights of every LGBT citizen in this country and is a must for us to have full equality. However, this will be difficult with the Republicans in control of the major parts of our government and seek to take away the rights that we have talked about in this book and the rights that would be protected by the Equality Act.

The Equality Act was more possible when Obama was president and when we had thought Hillary would be our next president but with Trump in office and a GOP controlled government it becomes much more difficult. Just to review, the piece of legislation known as the Equality Act that has been pushed to be passed for some time now but has been stalled and obstructed by the Republicans as they claim to value “freedom of religion” over LGBT rights but religious freedom doesn’t mean you can discriminate, guess they didn’t get the memo. The GOP fights against the Equality Act as they fight against all things that will help and protect LGBT people and have done so for some time now.

Even though we know that with Trump and the GOP in power they may not let us win over the next several years in regards to equality or the Equality Act we still must do what we can to fight and keep this movement moving forward like those before us have done and trusted us to do after their time passed. For us to continue the progress of the last decade or so in the future we have to do the things we have done in the past to win and sometimes this isn’t easy because when we have people oppose us it can be difficult to keep going but it is for sure something that we must do.

Keep fighting, that is what we must all do no matter where we live and no matter who we are. Many people think that you have to be a political figure or even a well-known TV personality in order to have an impact but the truth is that you for sure do not and anybody who has a passion and a drive to change things can do this. I am just your average American and I became an activist after I saw the issues that I care about not being changed like I believed they should be. I decided I needed to take a stand and fight for the issues dear to my heart and this particular issue is very important to me so I joined the ranks of millions of Americans who also care about it and began my journey advocating for LGBT rights.

The future is now and it is a future worth fighting for and I hope you and others like you will join this fight and do what you can to make a difference not only in America but across the earth fighting for the rights of LGBT people. You do not even have to be part of the LGBT community to fight for the rights of the people in this community, you just have to be a person who cares about people and wants to have an impact and if this is you then you for sure can make a difference and join the movement that has already come so far and cannot go back to how things were, we cannot allow those who are anti-LGBT to win and accomplish their goal of removing the rights of the LGBT community and hurting these people, we just cannot allow it.

I firmly believe the hate of the so-called Christian right as well as this current administration do not care about LGBT Americans and it shows in their words and actions and I know that what we are doing with fighting against the hate of homophobic agenda of those who oppose equality is the right thing to do, it for sure is and we will continue to do so. I also know that even though we have an administration that doesn’t value our rights we will continue to fight for these rights. The resistance will carry on and fight four our values with LGBT rights and so many more issues because we are the freedom fighters and humanitarians.

I will say as a bisexual man that the rights of the LGBT community matter and these rights must be protected against both the many anti-LGBT politicians who try to restrict and remove those rights as well as the anti-LGBT “Christian” citizens and organizations who fight against the LGBT community. The cost of giving up is far too great and the reward of continuing to fight for our rights and the rights of those who come after us is worth what we have to put into the battle. The many successes we have had over the years will motivate us to keep going and stand up to hate and oppression, we know it will not be easy with this administration and the current hate being thrown our way like what we experience in these debates , but it is possible as long as we believe and as long as we RESIST!

#lgbtq #lgbtq rights #bigotry #anti lgbt #love is love #equality #donald trump #politics #progressive

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