#there is lost more queer art to come!! it’s pride month and now my gay lil brain is working and I’m gonna make a lot of gay fanart

[dilf-illustrator]

Please consider: Desmond but his infamous unbuttoned blue shirt shows off his top scars!!!

#desmond hume #lost abc #lost show #lost series #artists on tumblr #sorry this took me so long to actually sketch out after I got the idea lmaoo im bad at drawing des #this is the best des I’ve drawn #listen we’ve all heard of lesbian desmond and she literally takes my breath away #but!! trans!! Desmond!! #fanart #art #digital art #there is lost more queer art to come!! it’s pride month and now my gay lil brain is working and I’m gonna make a lot of gay fanart #I already have two more queer fanart WIPs going and more ideas hehehheh #hopefully my motivation keeps up

[kaimactrash]

Okay first and foremost: if this flag is wrong lemme know! I have been googling but obviously, it can only go so far in trustablity since pages can be boosted.Anyway, heres my crew of lesbian OCs,

realise I have very few gay men ocs bc I've been in a real drawing fems mood lately, but theres a few there

info below on the ocs

other than Lith none of these women were born on earth, or even lived on it, so they don't have the exact same gender and physical sex rules we do, so this is more the closest term that fits all of my ladies who love ladies&enbees.up in the top left we have Lottie, she's not really into sex that much, but shes all about the romance, shes a very loving person, but deeply scared from several events leaving her with intense PTSD. She's a Frenrar native would was recruited as a demon, she was much more anthro as a human, but lost some of it on the transition to demon. She starts her story being rescued, while greatful, within a few months of world trecking she realised that this isn't what she wants to do anymore, she decides to hang out at Valentino, Skye, and Pipers traveling bar, called The Turkeys Tail. There she studies endlessly to solve a few magic issues on Franrar with the help of Valentino, it takes time but she ends up being the demon to be able to break the Elders curse, in the form of cuffs binding all lower (Hokey) demons, which prevents them running of flying away. She's a pacifist & would really like if there were no wars going on, but since she can't stop them herself, she tries to do so with her experiments. She's growing a lot as i write her and get to know her which is cool, I love when you can just almost hear a character coming together in your mind. all the inspo! Sorry for the ramble! it's good to get this stuff down when I'm in brain storming mind! Across from Lottie, top right, is lith! If you've followed me for years you know lith a bit, she was once a middle aged woman from earth, she made the transition over to demon at the end of a long fight with respiritory illness. Shes very busy lady being one of the two first primary protagonists, while she has some time to adjust to demon life, it didn't come with its own issues, and she ws soon through into a resistance for a place she arrived in not that long ago, she works it out over time. She also works out her sexuality, as a human, she pretty much burried her sexuality but the freedom of a while new world, one filled with many more queer people like her, haha.below her the giant elder Galo stands, due to her bullish attitude and hard headed focus, she struggles with this and the power battles in the Demon realm, often failing to see the wider issue as rilo refocuses her everytime she get close to figuring them out. Shes a bit new so a little under developed but shes going to be apearing quite a lot at the start of the story, then return later, so I'll have some time to get to know her. that tiny lil green triclops like thing, is Shihosu, my most precious and special baby, I wanna protect her even thou i'm the one writting the conflict in her world. She actually dies before she even apears, but shes brough back by octo ( the gold and purple octomaid lady.) and this essentially makes her speicies see her as some blessed chosen one, she has a big repuatation and after seeing and hearing other members of her speices die, she goes on the hunt for octo to find out why she was chosen...she has plenty of fun nights out during  this, so she has a good life work balance.   Shihosu is checking out Elviras butt. Elvira is basically an effigy brought to life by her father Emesh, She's a romantic at heart and can't help but coo and awe at any acts of love. Her father is very over protective and it takes a long time for her to be given true free reign of her life, shes thousands of years old by that point, so she gets out and finds the area outside her home is a semi-apocolyptic waste land filled with strange speicies and creatures, she quick decides she has left because she's to help. Her father is actually aware that he was to let her go off on her own as soon as she'd ask. He was inspired to create her while tripping hard, and the voice told him how to make her, and why he should....*mystery music.*Lastly we have the aforementioned Octo, and her wife, Beefy. By the time we meet them, they've been married a few years and they are obnoxiously in love. Beefy was earth child some how snatched onto Frenrar, she doesn'y know who did it, why, or even how, even though she meets others like her over time, none of them seem to know who did this, and no one on frenrar seems to know who could even do that. She was found in a box in the woods, no older than a year, and the Fleetfoots, a rabbit like spieces with multiple varients across frenrar, the spieces are known for strength, mentally and phsyically, hardiness, and determination, which ended up feeling perfect for Beefy, until Octovar arrived, Not immediately though. Octo was there over a summer at her father request, as she had gained a reputation for making scenes at big public royal family events, so as it is so oftem the rebelious princess is sent off out of daddys way, while he does his old boring bussiness. Beefy spent a lot of her time building and training physically, and Octovar would often be around. She's very curious as someone who lives mostly in the sea, being so far from the ocean, the lifestyles felt completely alien to one another. Over time awkward stares and little comments evolved in to longing looks and full on flirting. Always very opinionated, Octovar opened up to beefy about why she was here, why she was fighting them, and why she needed to leave before her father came back to collect her, Beefy agreed and talked about a Fleetfoot called Piper who had been here, but left after a visit from a powerful mage, beefy had kept contact via letters, so was now aware, Piper was an active member of the resistance. Beefy said her goodbyes, their culture never saw one set of parents, everyone raised everyone basically, so it was scary, but the elders reccomended beefy go try it out, reminding her, her burrow will always be there for her when or if she ever comes back.While we meet them at wives I'm 100% planning a prequel comic on them from meeting each other, to when they meet lith landon and the crew.OOf woops sorry these are meant to be silly cute lil pieces but I get all focused on lore! I'm still planningon doing more even though pride is over, I'm planning on doing one with gay men, then aro/ace. I may also do one with other mspec idnetities, but I do not have many ocs in those categories, YET! I will defo have more as more characters are created, I gotta make a whole planet of people. so theres gonna be variety.I may try and put all my trans characters together for a trans flag, but i may use the art I already made of them! Happy pride Lesbains*! (*and all the groups simailir or under that lable)        

#kai art #oc art

[faithfully-limping]

hello world

So, I figured I should make an intro post, and talk about why I’m here :)

I’m Ian or Casey, a Christian who also happens to be a pansexual trans man. I am a student earning my Associates in CIT, specifically Programming. I love hiking and nature, reading, art, and food. Like many, I was raised in a conservative fundamentalist evangelical Christian household and environment. My family is non-denominational and went to many, many different churches with different beliefs through the years.

As a result, despite having what I see as loving parents, I received a lot of unhealthy and confusing theology growing up that is hard to shake. The most notable of which, of course, is that queer people will all suffer in Hell for all of eternity.

I was a fundamentalist and a homophobe doing evangelicalism for the majority of my young life. I told people in McDonalds and other various public places that Jesus would save them at age ten. I was sheltered; I figured queer people were only a thing in dark corners and hidden, shady places full of depraved people and criminals. If they existed at all.

Then, more and more friends I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing as “evil” began to come out to me. I lost a loved one, and experienced the near-suicide of another loved one, right around the time I began to have feelings for my same-sex best friend. For two years I prayed for God to take those feelings away, and received what I thought was silence.

My conclusion?

There must be no loving, intelligent higher power. Surely they must have heard my desperate cries if they were there.

For years, then, all throughout high school and early college, I was in limbo and struggling. I had absolutely no direction in my life and very little love for myself or others. Sure, I discovered I was queer, and took on what I’m sure is a familiar attitude of pride- I was born this way and fuck anyone who says otherwise, you know? If I burn in some god’s underworld, fine, because it’s not like I can change who I am. I tried that. Later on, when I began to deal with the pain of rejection and queerphobia in more mature ways, I tried other beliefs, other religions, other practices. I love them all, and I believe they all have their parts to play in others’ lives, just as they did in mine, but I could not escape a different call.

I constantly worried about Hell, about life after death, and most compellingly, a higher purpose. I’d had a messy coming out to my family, a horrible relationship and breakup, pain was coming in at all sides. I had dropped out of college twice, lost a job, and ended up doing what I thought at the time was nothing. I now see it was recovery.

I felt pretty awful about myself, still living with my parents, bringing in very little money selling products online, finding very little joy in my day to day life. I’d once loved art, nature, animals, reading. I couldn’t muster up the energy to do those things anymore. I tried escaping through food, through Netflix, through gaming. I then tried self improvement, business, and art. I tried going back to school.

There was always something missing.

In fall of 2019, a family member lost a job, and decided to pursue some much-needed disability. Our household income, which was six figures, was halved. In an attempt to lower our rent and bills, we started looking for a house to buy and own. It sounded crazy, but for a month we searched and got no results. Nothing was in our price range and safe and big enough for a family of four.

One day, I witnessed my dad praying in his truck.

The very same day, we got our dream home (a fenced in yard, a fireplace, a quiet neighborhood), the house we are currently living in, for a price lower than what we expected to pay.

This event came off the back of several points of pain and stress in my life- facing the reality of death and worrying about that. Returning to school. Family health issues. Then, a miracle providing for us.

I couldn’t ignore God calling me any longer.

But, I was still queer. I’d already tried suppressing and ignoring that, I’d tried praying it away. I’d tried ignoring faith. I’d even tried integrating the two before, but got so hung up and distressed about the Side A vs Side B debate at the time, that I just couldn’t bear to face faith and sexuality together. I went back into limbo.

Why was this time different?

Maybe it was because that was when I discovered Queer Theology. It certainly was a big part of it. Maybe it was because a friend had bought me The Screwtape Letters just months before. Maybe it was because my brush with self improvement as the center of my life had taught me to weigh things more maturely, to stay emotionally centered, and to seek to be virtuous and contribute something to the world. Or maybe it was because I discovered Ask A Mortician that one day, or saw I Can Only Imagine in theaters with my family on the best vacation of my life a few years prior. Maybe it was the journaling Bible my mother gifted me as a surprise (a genuine surprise- I was a Pagan at the time) on my 21st Easter. Or, or, or...

Do you see what I’m getting at with that paragraph? Maybe it wasn’t just one thing. Maybe everything, everything in my life has connected in an intensely miraculous and complex way to lead me to that decision to ask God to come back into my life.

Everything. Every movie, book, video, game, person, bite of food, sight of nature... All of it shaped me into this person who is able to say today that I am queer, I am loved by God, and I love him back. I don’t have all the answers yet of what my life should look like, how I should live this love, but I want to build my relationship with my Lord. I have returned to prayer, I am learning to appreciate and embrace the depth and beauty of the Bible in new ways. I have been journaling, but I guess in typing all this out and posting it, I’m finally strong enough to seek out one of the pieces I am missing; community. Putting myself out there is terrifying, and I still have a lot of spiritual baggage to work through, but I’m here.

And I see now that God’s silence in response to my attempts to “pray the gay away” was an answer.

It was a “No.”

It was a “My grace, my mercy, my love is enough.”

It was a “Have faith in me.”

#queer christian #first post #intro #hell #religion #homophobia #long post

[faranae]

If you don’t mind me asking but how can the word queer be used as a positive thing to say about the LGBT community, As every time I hear it it has been used in the negative way.

First thing’s first: I’m very sorry that’s been your experience Nonny. I don’t mind you asking at all, but it’s just not an easy question to answer. 

Here’s the thing: I’m not an educator. I’m just one queer dude trying to fight for the right to identify myself as I see fit without being tackled to the floor and accused of being a “cis white neurotypical homophobe” for it. (I do wish I were exaggerating, but my inbox has been hella wild this week and I can assure you I am maybe one of those things, possibly two but I am honestly just not ready to dive into the technicalities of what qualifies as cis right now.) 

As for your question: I can give my own take on things, but I’m the first to admit it will be biased. 

Story time! Long post incoming:

I hail from a tiny village in Ontario, Canada, where I was raised by my grandparents. 

Where I grew up in the early-mid 90′s and beyond, queer was used as a slur just as much if not less frequently than gay, lesbian, dyke, butch, twink, and any number of currently acceptable(?) LGBTQ+ terminology. Consider this my point of argument, I suppose: A good portion of the stigma is absolutely based in locale/environment. In my personal history, they were all bad. Especially since baby Fara was raised in the Roman Catholic school system. 

Then came the opportunity to leave: I was accepted into a specialized arts program at a high school in the city. I moved away, and nosy neighbours and an unshakeable reputation were traded in for public transportation and being lost in the crowd. It was the best thing to happen to my baby gay life. 

Ninth grade was a wild awakening. I’d already known for years that I wasn’t exactly “normal”, but the sudden exposure to all of these divergent teenagers was really something. I was quickly adopted into this massive group of queer peers, and there was a lot of education in that short year as I learned about myself and others through them. 

We were the group of kids that took up a good third of the cafeteria every free period, playing Magic: the Gathering and euchre and singing songs and laughing amongst each other. We were the theater kids, the artsies, the techs, and the nerds. We outnumbered the jocks and other social stereotypes by a decent margin. A quick social media check on my part shows most of those kids identify as LGBT, queer, or otherwise allies in their adult lives. 

Those kids taught me that queer was a weapon for us as much as it was for “them”. Someone on the bus calls you gay? Turn on your heel and plant an innocent kiss on your best friend’s cheek. Don’t be vulgar, but absolutely fight for what you believe in. Some were… Considerably more aggressive in their acts of expression. Queer was ours. It was what we made it. What that old lady on the bus said with disgust, we held over our heads with pride. 

A lot went wrong after 9th grade. My mother pulled me from the arts program and as such I was sent to a brand new school elsewhere in the city. What happened there made it very clear that experiences are not universal. Where I’d previously had a massive group of support and strength, I found myself forced back into the closet for my own safety. 

Not only was “queer” a negative expression once again, it was violent. 

Within a week of reluctantly admitting to a counselor at this new school that I wasn’t straight, I was very publicly pulled from PhysEd and assigned an isolated changing room for the rest of the semester. Only a few days later and my new peers suspected I was “one of the gays”, all without me saying a single thing in public about it. 

Make no mistake: I was a shy, quiet kid for the most part. I tried to be brave and embrace the change as I’d learned from my peer group at the first school. I made the mistake of wearing a pride pin to school after that; my quiet little rebellion against what they’d started to say about me. I held my chin up through the glares where I could, and shot coy smiles at those who used those words against me like they were supposed to mean something unforgivable. I even called a few girls pretty out of spite. (They were actually quite pretty, but also very ugly on the inside.) 

My “cocky” and “unapologetic” refusal to be insulted was met with a group of girls beating the everloving shit out of me while I waited for the bus after school that day. All because I was “queer”. I didn’t go back. 

A lot’s happened since then: I dropped out of high school and got my GED as soon as I was legally able. I found my tribe again after that, and reconnected with a good chunk of the original crowd. I discovered there was a word and culture based around my take on how relationships should be (polyamorous). I got married. Had a kid. Bought a binder. Did a lot of living and made a lot of mistakes. Still am. 

I hunted for literal years trying to find one word, one flag, one identity that fit me. What I wanted. Where I belonged. I was especially sore about it whenever Pride Month rolled around:

(From the end of pride month in 2018)

Most terms that seemed to fit always had some exceptions or exclusions that turned me off or disqualified me from using them by saying I straight-up wasn’t welcome. It was only in the past couple years that I finally said “fuck it” and settled on “Queer”, an identity I’d had since ninth grade but always wrote off as “too vague”. I hadn’t realized that it wasn’t vague, it was intentionally inclusive of anyone who wanted to use it. 

And that, that’s the important distinction there I suppose. Are there those who don’t want to use queer or find it makes them uncomfortable? Absolutely, and that should be respected. We all have different experiences; different origins that paint our perspective of what is and is not acceptable. To some queer is power or comfort, it’s rebellion, it’s a fist in the air screaming that we exist and aren’t going anywhere. To others, it just digs at old wounds. To another group, they read that it was a bad word online and dug their heels in. 

The problem lies in that only one side of this argument seems to be respecting those distinctions. If one does or doesn’t want the Q in LGBTQ to apply to them, that’s their choice. You don’t see gay dudes up in arms saying “There shouldn’t be an L in LGBTQ since I’m not a Lesbian and I don’t appreciate people implying I am.” Or you shouldn’t see that, anyway. And yet we see that very thing happening with the Q. 

Members of our community are being pitted against each other by people who have no business instigating such fights. The same rhetoric and strategies are being used to shove queer out of the spectrum as are being used to exclude aro/ace and bi folk, and trans to a point as well. 

The culture itself is being twisted. People aren’t looking into why and how queer has come back into the spotlight as a “slur”, when we’ve been peacefully using it ourselves and reclaiming it since the late 80′s. Hell, we were “queer” before we were ever “gay,” with that use of the word originating in the 1800′s (gay popped up as an alternative to homosexual in the early to mid 1900s). 

In 2005, when same-sex marriage was legalized nationwide here, we threw parties and held each other and cried at how far our queer butts had come. 

In 2020, I look at the next generation on social media and see them screaming that my identity is now an unforgivable and homophobic slur. 

I hope you can understand where I’m a little skeptical and even bitter here. 

We’re going backwards, and it hurts. 

So yeah. Queer is seen differently by many people based on our experiences and exposures. Unfortunately that paints it in very different lights in different corners of the community. 

I am queer. At no point will I ever apply that label to another person who doesn’t want it to be. In my experience anyone who implies that “the queers are trying to force you to be queer too” is either very ignorant, very misinformed, or malicious in their intent. 

It’s no different than the “foreigners are going to take our jobs”, “gays will corrupt our children”, or “foreign religions will take away our freedoms” arguments. They are started and spread with malicious intent, and latched on to by those who don’t yet know any better. It’s why civil discussion is so, so very important. 

Thank you for asking so politely, Nonny. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do much more than give some personal anecdotes, but the use of the word queer is something that isn’t entirely black and white for anyone nowadays. I can’t just pull a bunch of citations out of my butt and say “this is why it’s a good thing”, because it really is subjective you know? 

Besides, this is my blog, not my old Comms class in college. Nobody’s convincing me to write a full APA-compliant essay on the subject unless they’re paying or professionally grading me on it. 

#Queer #Trigger warning #long post #story time #AskFara #Anonymous #fara rants

[alexsfictionaddiction]

Alex Recommends: May and June Books

I must apologise for the late arrival of this post. It should have been up days ago but I’ve been struggling to read much for the last month or so. My head has been very foggy and dark with all of the confusion, anxiety and hate that has been filling my news feeds and I’ve been filled with a desire to combat it. Before this month, I’d have run in the opposite direction from any kind of confrontation but recent events have given me the kick up the butt to actively do better. I’ve been calling out bigotry when I come across it and I’ve noticed that some people, notably my older relatives, haven’t necessarily reacted favorably to the changed, more outspoken Alex. It has been pretty daunting and I’ve worked myself up into fits of rage and tears several times over the last couple of months.

A lot of things have changed for me since my last Alex Recommends post. I’m currently temporarily living in Staffordshire with my boyfriend because my depression got too bad for me to stay at home for much longer. I missed him unbelievably much and I knew that spending some prolonged time with him would help -and it has. Both him and I have spent 12 weeks religiously following all of the rules, so we’re both extremely low-risk for catching and spreading COVID-19 and being together was something that we simply really needed to do. Please don’t hate me for it! In other news, I have also started writing again, which feels amazing. I’m now a few thousand words into a queer Rapunzel retelling that I have lots of ideas for. Maybe I’ll even post an extract or two, when I feel it’s ready to show you.

In the centre of the renewed energy of Black Lives Matter and the undeniable exposure of the horrors that is police brutality, the book blogging and BookTube worlds vowed to uplift Black voices. I wrote a very long, in-depth blog post full of Black-written books and Black book influencers. Please check it out to diversify your TBR and educate yourself on Black issues, which is what every white person should be doing now and always.

June was Pride Month and I tried my best to compile a series of recommendation posts in honour of it. These included gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, non-binary, ace, pansexual and intersex lists. I’ve had some great feedback on this, so I hope you find some fantastic new reads. It felt especially poignant to put them together the same year that one of my childhood heroes came out as an ignorant trans-exclusive feminist. As a lifelong Harry Potter superfan and someone who has repeatedly publicly supported Rowling in the past, I feel the need to clarify where I now stand. I do not support or agree with a single thing that she has said in recent times with regard to transgender people. I’ve never felt my own status as a cisgender female threatened by trans people wanting more rights or believed that children or women were at risk due to their existence. 

I read her words more than once and struggled to find any semblance of the woman who wrote the books that have most defined my life. I’m hesitant to say that we can always successfully separate the art from the artist but I will say that it makes sense to me that the Rowling of 2020 is not the same Rowling that wrote Harry Potter. She was a destitute single mother when Philosopher’s Stone was published in 1997 and of course, she is now a million worlds away from that lifestyle. It breaks my heart but it makes sense to me that she has changed beyond belief because her life has changed beyond belief. I’m not and never would make any excuses for her recent behaviour and I have stopped supporting her personally but I will not be getting rid of my Harry Potter books and I will undoubtedly re-read them several more times. However, I am now hugely reluctant to buy any more merchandise or special editions of the books, which saddens me but at the moment, it feels right. There is no coming back for her from this and I will make a conscious effort to keep Harry Potter and Rowling away from my future content. It can be really tough to admit that the people you once really admired aren’t great humans but it’s something that we all have to acknowledge in this case, in order to move forward with our own quests to become our best selves.

It didn’t feel right to post my May recommendations last month as I didn’t feel comfortable promoting my own content in the midst of boosting Black voices. So today I’m bringing you a bumper edition of Alex Recommends. Here are 10 books that I’ve enjoyed since the start of May that I’d love to share with you. Enjoy! -Love, Alex x

FICTION: Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Set in the affluent neighbourhood of Shaker Heights, Ohio in the 1990s, two families are brought together and pulled apart by the most intense, devastating circumstances. Dealing with issues of race, class, coming-of-age, motherhood and the dangers of perfection, Little Fires Everywhere is highly addictive and effecting. With characters who are so heartbreakingly real and a story that weaves its way to your very core, I couldn’t put it down and I’m still thinking about it over a month after finishing it. 

FICTION: Get A Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert

When coding nerd Chloe Brown almost dies, she makes a list of goals and vows to finally Get A Life. So she enlists tattooed redhead handyman and biker Red to teach her how. Cute, funny and ultimately life-affirming, this enemies-to-lovers rom-com was exactly the brand of light relief that I needed this month. The follow-up Take A Hint, Dani Brown focuses on a fake-dating situation with Chloe’s over-achieving academic sister and I can’t wait to get my hands on that.

FICTION: The Rearranged Life of Oona Lockhart by Margarita Montimore

Just before her 19th birthday at midnight on New Year’s Eve 1983, Oona Lockhart finds herself inexplicably in 2015 inside her 51-year-old body. She soon learns that every year on New Year’s Day, she will now find herself inside a random year of her life and she has no control over it. Seeing her through relationships, friendships and extreme wealth, this strange novel has echoes of Back To The Future and 13 Going On 30 with a final revelation that I certainly never saw coming.

NON-FICTION: The Five by Hallie Rubenhold

Atmospheric and engaging, The Five details the previously untold stories of Polly, Annie, Elisabeth, Kate and Mary-Jane -the women who lost their lives at the hands of Jack the Ripper. Full of fascinating research and heartbreaking accounts of what these women’s lives may have been like, Rubenhold paints a dark immersive portrait of Victorian London and gives voice to these tragic silenced lives. Although we can’t know for certain if these accounts are entirely accurate, they feel very plausible and in some ways, The Five exposes how little time has moved on, when it comes to the public portrayal of single, troubled women.

NON-FICTION: Unicorn by Amrou Al-Kadhi

From a childhood crush on Macaulay Culkin to how a teenage obsession with marine biology helped them realise their non-binary identity, Unicorn tells the story of how the obsessive perfectionist son of a strict Muslim Iraqi family became the gorgeous drag queen Glamrou. Packed full of humour, honesty and heart, this book will give you the strength and inspiration to harness what you were born with and be who you were always meant to be.

MIDDLE-GRADE: The Super Miraculous Journey of Freddie Yates by Jenny Pearson

When fact-obsessed Freddie’s grandmother dies, he discovers that the father he has never met may actually be alive and living in Wales. So he has no choice but to grab his best friends Ben and Charlie, leave his home in Andover and go to find his dad! I laughed so many times during this madcap adventure and I know the slapstick crazy humour will hit the middle-grade target audience just right. It’s also a wonderful depiction of small town Britain with a focus on the true meaning of family.

MIDDLE-GRADE: A Kind Of Spark by Elle McNicoll

When Addie learns about her hometown’s history of witch trials, she campaigns tirelessly to get a memorial for the women who lost their lives through it. This wonderfully beautiful novel gives a unique insight into the mind of an 11-year-old autistic girl with a huge heart. Busting myths about neurodiversity while tackling typical pre-teen drama, you’ll laugh, you’ll cry but most of all, you’ll close the book with a huge smile on your face. 

HISTORICAL FICTION: Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell

In 16th century Warwickshire, Agnes is a woman with a unique gift whose relationship with a young Latin tutor produces three children and a legacy that lasts for centuries. This enchanting, all-consuming account of the tragic story of Shakespeare’s lost son, the effects that rippled through the family and the play that was born from their pain will send a bullet straight through your heart. Wonderfully researched and beautifully written, Hamnet is worth all of the hype.

HISTORICAL FICTION: The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

When a vicious storm kills most of the men of Vardø, Norway, it’s up to the women to keep things going but a man with a murderous past is about to come down with an iron fist. At the heart of this dark tale of witch trials, grief and feminism, two women find something they’ve each been searching for within each other. Gorgeously written with a fantastically slow-burning queer romance, Kiran Millwood Hargrave’s first adult novel is an addictive, atmospheric read with a poignant, tearjerker of an ending.

SCI-FI: Q by Christina Dalcher

When one of Elena’s daughters manages to drop below the country’s desired Q number, she is sent away to one of the new state schools and Elena is about to find out something she’d really rather not know about the new system. Packed full of real social commentary and critique of life as we know it while painting a picture of how things could be even worse (yes, really!), this pulse-racing, horrifying sci-fi dystopian gripped me from the first page and refused to let me go. 

#book recommendations #recommended #recommendations #may #june #books #bookworm

[esqreverblog]

A cut above: António Variações, Portugal's queer pop superstar

In 1984, national grief at Variações’s gruelling death was overpowered by scrutiny of Aids, which was still relatively mysterious. According to Couto Pinto: “It was hard to keep him alive when listeners buried him in stigma and only talked about him regarding the disease, as though the reason for his death was more important than the artist and the work he left behind.”His reappraisal began in 2004, when the supergroup Humanos was assembled to record his remaining demo tapes. The result was a multi-platinum album. Rarefied support followed through homages on TV talent shows and tributes from other artists, and in 2019, Variações dominated the public consciousness once again. His biopic, an art house Rocketman, garnered mixed reviews but became one of the highest-grossing Portuguese films of all time. Its lead actor went on a national tour with a Variações cover band.According to Cascais, this “appropriation as a cultural icon” comes at a cost of downplaying Variações’s sexuality and smoothing over the polarised response to him in his heyday and after his death. “In life, he was loved by some and disregarded by others”, says Couto Pinto. “Most important of all is he never generated indifference.”A hedonist loved by the people, a humble man behind a commanding posture, Variações injected colour into 1980s Portugal. “I feel like I was born before my time”, he said in 1983; one year later, he lamented “having to die”, dreading “the depressive ending”.It’s a good thing, then, that his verses continue to echo throughout his native country. From bathrooms in Lisbon to the greenery of Minho, the existential nomadism of Estou Além prevails as an anthem: “Because I only want whom I have never seen … Because I only want to go where I do not go.” António Variações is still going, still finding people he has never seen.n the midst of wild olive trees, a muscular man sporting pink hair and a woman’s swimming costume stares into a mirror. There, at the meeting point of pastoral and queer, is António Variações: Portugal’s first gay icon, who shook the country from its post-revolution torpor after fascism’s 41-year reign. A country boy, hairdresser and pop star, Variações silenced homophobia with free expression – and has been reborn as an icon 35 years after his death

‘I adore the sound of scissors, but nothing comes close to a guitar or a violin’ ... António Variações. Photograph: Teresa Couto Pinto

In the midst of wild olive trees, a muscular man sporting pink hair and a woman’s swimming costume stares into a mirror. There, at the meeting point of pastoral and queer, is António Variações: Portugal’s first gay icon, who shook the country from its post-revolution torpor after fascism’s 41-year reign.

These radical photographs provided the artwork for Variações’s final album, Dar & Receber (To Give & to Receive), released in May 1984. He would die the next month, on the feast day of Lisbon’s most beloved saint, António, marking what was widely believed to be the country’s first public Aids-related death. A gay man who had defined the zeitgeist, Variações was now the poster child for a taboo that threatened to consume his legacy. At his funeral the coffin was sealed because of safety concerns, and his remaining clothes were burnt.

Yet Variações’s spirit has survived, and become synonymous with Pride month celebrations each June in Portugal. Last year’s culminated with an António Variações sing-along; then in August, a long-awaited biopic, Variações, became the country’s highest-grossing film of the year. Thirty-five years after his death, he has regained his place in Portuguese culture. Variações had always sworn he would go down in history – “even if only the history of a bathroom wall”.

The quote dates back to 1983, when Variações was on the brink of his watershed moment. That moment was was 27 years in the making, starting when he left the province of Minho, aged 11, for Lisbon. Variações never lost connection with his rural home but even as a child, he knew it couldn’t nurture his ambition: to hone the melodies that flowed through his head into life-affirming music.

Born in 1944, he lived through the repressive Estado Novo regime for three decades. He worked in menial jobs, served in the Portuguese military and at one point moved to London. But it was his time in Amsterdam, in the mid-70s, that created Variações the icon, as the historian Manuela Gonzaga writes in her biography António Variações: Entre Braga e Nova Iorque. Life in the Dutch city afforded Variações a political and sexual freedom that was still embryonic in Portugal after the peaceful coup of 1974. The gay clubs and darkrooms in which he revelled were anathema in a nation where would take until 1982 for homosexual activity to be legalised.

When Variações returned to Portugal in 1976, he became a face of the progressive Príncipe Real neighbourhood, and later of Bairro Alto, where a dormant culture began to erupt. A new generation of musicians, journalists, architects and others met up in drag venues and alternative bars. “The arts were emerging after a ruthless censorship that had kept creatives clandestine,” his ex-manager and close friend Teresa Couto Pinto explains. “It sparked inside us a need to confront established values.”

Although Variações set up camp as a barber, music remained his ambition: “I adore the sound of scissors but nothing comes close to a guitar or a violin,” he said. At home, he eschewed strings for handclaps and a portable drum machine, recording demo tapes that earned him a record deal with Portugal’s top rock label, Valentim de Carvalho.

He introduced a fashion sense that was alien to Lisbon. Gonzaga describes it as a “gratuitous, fascinating display”: below his two-toned beard, he could wed tight trousers to bedroom slippers as easily as he mixed leather straps with knitted sweaters. Couto Pinto says she helped him wrap poultry netting around his torso, and sewed door locks and hinges to his arms and legs. “I have never dressed to provoke anyone”, he said, describing his camp style as “an act of freedom towards myself, out of pleasure”.

Variações was “at the dawn of a [gay] collective consciousness in Portugal,” says the queer studies academic António Fernando Cascais, “because he pioneered a counter-image of his own”. Any homophobic remarks – even though Variações never came out publicly – were forgotten as soon as he took the stage.

He made his TV debut in 1981, during the Sunday variety show on Portugal’s sole broadcaster. He sang a punk metaphor about pills while a dancer dressed as a giant aspirin threw Smarties at the dumbfounded audience. Nothing so transgressive had ever graced Portugal’s airwaves. Opposing the country’s deep-seated conservatism, “the audience adhered immediately, with no reservations”, to the surprise of the illustrious host Júlio Isidro, as he told a journalist. His “meteoric stardom”, Gonzaga says, pushed his label to take him off the backburner.

Variações overcame his lack of musicianship amid members of the rock elite, who helped him translate his inner world of sounds, fusing the pop vanguard and the traditional melodies of his childhood. His 1983 bestselling debut LP, Anjo da Guarda (Guardian Angel), set his fado inflections – a homage to the singer Amália Rodrigues, his idol and later his friend – to a new-wave backdrop, while the follow-up album Dar & Receber balanced disco-rock with melancholy synthpop.

His pen reconciled popular wisdom and queer identity. His songs O Corpo É Que Paga (The Body Pays the Price) and É P’ra Amanhã (Leave It ’Til Tomorrow), both pages in the great Portuguese songbook, reinvented proverbs to tell life lessons. Variações also made queer alienation feel universal: today you might hear supermarket shoppers humming along to the proto-Robyn desperation of Canção de Engate (Hookup Song), despite its bleak depiction of gay cruising (“You are alone and I am even more so”).

In 1984, national grief at Variações’s gruelling death was overpowered by scrutiny of Aids, which was still relatively mysterious. According to Couto Pinto: “It was hard to keep him alive when listeners buried him in stigma and only talked about him regarding the disease, as though the reason for his death was more important than the artist and the work he left behind.”

His reappraisal began in 2004, when the supergroup Humanos was assembled to record his remaining demo tapes. The result was a multi-platinum album. Rarefied support followed through homages on TV talent shows and tributes from other artists, and in 2019, Variações dominated the public consciousness once again. His biopic, an art house Rocketman, garnered mixed reviews but became one of the highest-grossing Portuguese films of all time. Its lead actor went on a national tour with a Variações cover band.

According to Cascais, this “appropriation as a cultural icon” comes at a cost of downplaying Variações’s sexuality and smoothing over the polarised response to him in his heyday and after his death. “In life, he was loved by some and disregarded by others”, says Couto Pinto. “Most important of all is he never generated indifference.”

A hedonist loved by the people, a humble man behind a commanding posture, Variações injected colour into 1980s Portugal. “I feel like I was born before my time”, he said in 1983; one year later, he lamented “having to die”, dreading “the depressive ending”.

It’s a good thing, then, that his verses continue to echo throughout his native country. From bathrooms in Lisbon to the greenery of Minho, the existential nomadism of Estou Além prevails as an anthem: “Because I only want whom I have never seen … Because I only want to go where I do not go.” António Variações is still going, still finding people he has never seen.

Source: [X]

#antonio variações #lgbtq #portugal #music #aids

[thewolfprince]

An Animorphs Pride

Animorphs AU: An Animorphs Pride

Modern, Pride month, no powers, LGBT, school

[Written for @theandxlitebandits for the @the--abomination ‘s Animorphs Fic Exchange.

Characters: Animorphs (Jake, Cassie, Rachel, Tobias, Marco, Aximili)]

/////////////////////////////////////

My name is Jake. Jake Berenson. I’m bisexual.

Today was the day of our town’s Pride event. A parade, booths and games.

This is the first year my little ragtag group of LGBT+ people went. There’s me, a bisexual and cis male. There’s Marco, who’s bisexual and a demiboy. There’s Marco’s boyfriend Aximili, who we all call Ax. Ax just calls himself queer.

There’s my girlfriend, Cassie. She’s non-binary and pansexual. Then there’s Tobias, who’s a transgender male and polysexual. Lastly, my cousin Rachel, who’s cis female and asexual. Rachel and Tobias are dating—although if you asked either of them, they’ll deny it.

“So,” Marco swung his arm over Ax’s shoulders. “What’s the plan, cap?”

“Yes. Plan. Pl. laaaaan. Nn. Plaaaaan.” Ax grinned.

The three of us had just picked Ax up and were heading towards Tobias’s house. Tobias was still in the closet—literally. As I pulled up, I could see through the broken window in Tobias’s room that he was putting on his binder.

Marco wolf-whistled, giving me a grin as Tobias looked out the window. His hair was messy and he had one arm at his side. The other one was in the air like it was gonna give the closet a high-five.

“Put on a shirt!” Ax yelled helpfully. I facepalmed. I heard Tobias squeak above us before vanishing. Footsteps ran down the stairs. The door opened and Tobias slid in the back, a MCR shirt over his binder, now properly hidden.

Then we would go to Pride and meet Cassie and Rachel there. They had gotten a ride from Cassie’s mom, who thought we were going to an art museum then getting lunch.

I turned down the road, smiling as I saw people decked out in rainbow attire. Some held balloons, some wore crazy socks.

“Hey Tob,” I pointed at a teen wearing a trans flag as a cape.

“Awesome.” He whispered.

I parked the car and turned off the engine. We all hopped out. Marco wore a backpack that held sunscreen, water, food, and the very few Pride items we owned.

Cassie and Rachel jogged towards us. Rachel—unsurprisingly—held a camera in her hands. “Come on,” she urged. “Let’s go take some pictures by that statue!”

We took a few pictures by this statue of an old war general. Someone had given it rainbow shades and a gay flag draped over it’s horse.

I took out my bisexual pin, pinning it to my shirt. I handed Tobias his ‘he/him/his’ pronoun button. Cassie grabbed her ‘she/her’ and ‘they/them’ buttons. Marco grabbed his hat with the bisexual flag sewen onto it. Rachel took her flannel shirt off, revealing a “While you were busy experiencing sexual attraction, I studied the blade” tank top, which Marco had given her. Ax wore a small pride armband.

“Look!” Ax pointed to a float that was shaped like a giant Cinnamon bun. Marco grabbed his hand and dragged him over to a spot where they could see it better.

We all walked around, enjoying this chance to be out and proud.

Even though we lived in a “progressive” state, there were still things that happened here. A nasty look. Deliberate misgendering. A sharp remark.

I pulled Cassie closer as we all started walking across the street to get pizza. Once we passed through the gates, the air felt hostile. I opened the door to the pizza place as Marco cracked a joke, grinning as I stuck my foot out to try and trip him.

He hopped over my foot and I let the door close behind me. A woman walked over to us, holding a clipboard. “Welcome to Tony’s Pizzeria, may I take your order please?”

We told her our drink orders and Tobias pulled out his souvenir water bottle from The Gardens that Cassie had given to him for his birthday.

“May I have water, please?” He asked the waitress, who nodded but didn’t move to take it. He stared at her for a few seconds before she said, “Sir, I can’t take it until you take the cap off.”

“Oh.” Tobias said, ducking his head down in embarrassment. “Okay. Sorry.” He unscrewed the kid and handed the bottle to her.

“Be right back.” She walked off.

We chatted for a few moments. Cassie was telling a story of how she saved a baby goose when suddenly I heard a man behind me.

“Queer kids.”

My chest constricted and a cold wave washed down my body. Rachel snapped her gaze up, opening her mouth. Marco and Cassie both grabbed her arms. Tobias sunk into his seat a bit.

Ax looked at us. “What’s wr-wr-rrrrrrrrrrrong?” He asked. “Ong. On on on.”

“That guy just called us ‘queer’.” I muttered, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He looked like one of the cooks.

“Yeah. He said, ‘who’s gonna take the queer kids’.” Rachel growled. “Let go of me, Marco.”

Marco let go, but whispered. “We need a plan. Just Incase.”

“We run. We split then meet back up at that statue.” I said.

The others nodded. Tobias pulled his trans flag off and stuffed it into his backpack.

We ate silently once the pizza came, then stood up and left right when a group of adults came in adorning make up and pride flags and a lot of glitter.

Tobias turned back. “Shit!”

“What?” We looked at him.

“I left my water bottle in there.” His left hand started flapping. “The one Cassie got me!” I took his other hand. “Hey. I’ll go in with you, yeah? We’ll see if it’s still there.” Tobias looked distressed, but nodded, hand still flapping.

We entered and walked back to the booth we had sat in. There was no sign of the water bottle. “Excuse me,” I tapped on the waitress’s shoulder. She looked at me. “My friend left his water bottle in here—do you guys have a place where you keep things, like a lost-and-found?”

“I can check. Give me a minute.” She walked to the back. I rubbed circles on Tobias’s hand as he continued moving his other one, albeit more subtly.

“Sorry guys. It’s not there.” The lady frowned a gave a tiny shrug.

“Thank you.” Tobias gripped my hand and led me outside.

“Did you get it?” Rachel asked. Tobias shook his head. “We can go back and ask to look ourselves.” Marco suggested.

Tobias shook his head. “It’s fine.” He mumbled. He let go of my hand as Ax reached into his backpack and grabbed a fidget cube, handing it to Tobias without a word.

“The next time I go back, I’ll get you another one. Promise.” Cassie smiled at Tobias, who shrugged. “You don’t have to.” He said.

Rachel just shook her head and wrapped an arm around Tobias. “Let’s go and beat the crowds.”

Ax grinned. “Truck! Ruck. Tr. Tr. Ruck. Uck uck uck.”

I led the way back to my truck, turned on the engine, and everyone piled into the cab.

I drove as Cassie finished her story in the passenger side. Marco launched into more rounds of jokes. Tobias stimmed, mouthing words as he looked down into his lap. Rachel sat next to him, occasionally saying something. Ax was in the bed of the truck, just lying down.

My name is Jake. I have wonderful friends, who are all pretty cool. I’m just an average teenager. And I’m bisexual.

//////////////

I’m so sorry if this is late! I’ve been busy helping my friend and just got the motivation to finish this!

#Animorphs #Tobias stimms #Trans Tobias #LGBTphobia #tw q slur

[khadij-al-kubra]

Thomas In Wonderland (Full Fanfic) Chapter 1

Characters: Thomas (fictional), Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Remy, Emile, Joan, Talyn Deceit, Nate, the Dragon Witch (i mean jabberwalkie), Possibly fan adopted shorts characters

Pairings: None (although knowing me and my love of ships, this may change)

Words: 1368

Summary: Thomas seems to have lost his inspiration, his creative drive, and in short has a seriously BAD case of writers block. Perhaps an accidental trip down the rabbit hole into a land of nonsense and madness will help him find that flighty spark he’s been looking for.

Author’s Note: Greetings guys, gals, & non-binary pals! Looks like this is going to be my first multi-chapter fanfic of the new year. This chapter is more of a prologue than anything so it won’t be as long. If you know my writing though, than future chapters are pretty much guaranteed to be MUCH longer. And as always feel free to leave a comment in the messages or reply if you have any notes or constructive critiques. I’m always open to writing advice. Also, if you would like to be in the tag list for this fanfic, feel free to message or inbox me and I shall happily and gratefully add you to the list. I’m super excited about this, and I hope you all enjoy.

Prologue

Writers block. The bane of his existence and possible the only thing that Thomas hated even more than he hated bigoted jerk faces. ...Okay he hated the latter way more, but writers block was definitely up there on the list, right behind mucky Florida heat and cold pizza. His current bout of creative block however was making its way up that list.

“Come on brain...think of things. Come on brain, be so smart,” Thomas mumbled to himself, disappointed he couldn’t even come up with something more original than a borrowed line from that Lin-Manuel Miranda vine.

He certainly felt like the embodiment of it though.

He had been sitting at the table in his living room for the past two hours. His laptop was opened to a mockingly blank page, a lined yellow notepad next to it covered in scratched out bad ideas, crumpled papers were scattered around him, and his Steven Universe mug half emptied of coffee that was cold by now. To add insult to injury, it was an actually nice crisp yet sunshiny autumn day and Thomas could only sit inside as the beauty of it mocked him from the other side of his living room window. The jerk!

He would’ve loved nothing more than to go for a walk outside or visit his friends, but sadly Thomas had a new script to write. Normally he and Joan were pretty good about keeping on top of schedules and they’d even gotten the last two scripted videos out in pretty good amounts of time. Which hopefully made up for that six month dry spell they both swore never to speak of again. However, Joan reminded him that a new scripted video was due soon and Thomas for the life of him just COULD NOT seem to come up with any new or exciting story ideas! It was like his creativity was wandering around a blank page desert and the oasis of is imagination had dried up.

“Say, that could make for a neat Sanders Sides video,” Thomas mused to himself perking up...only to deflate back down after realizing they didn’t have the budget for that kind of a green screen effect. “Besides, the sides never debate outside of my living room and moving them to a location outside of my house wouldn’t make any sense.”

Thomas groaned and plonked his forehead onto the wooden coffee table. Making videos and writing scripts used to be so much fun. Until it started being his job more than a passion. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was signing up for. He wanted this, and he knew he was luckier than most that he got to get paid for creating art and doing what he loved. Not that he and his team did it for the money. Except lately creating felt more like a chore. Not something eh wanted to do but like something he had to do. Like dusting, which was his least favorite chore. Creating felt like a chore! But he couldn’t let Joan or Camden or his wonderful famders down. So he needed to come up with something good...Thomas just wish he could feel that rush of wondrous joy and colorful excitement about his work again. He missed coming up with ideas that were so out there yet he felt a surge of pride every time they worked. Lately all his ideas felt, well, like looking at a faded rainbow. Which was sad as both and artist and a gay man...But deadlines were deadlines and he had to create something to post for the next video.

“That is if i could come up with something period!” Thomas sighed. “Maybe i need a break. Just five to ten minutes of something fun to get the ol’ juices flowing again. Something exciting...”

He looked at the very cold coffee with a pouted lip. Or maybe I just need a boost from my favorite caffeinated drug, he thought. With that decided Thomas picked up the mug and got up to go to the kitchen. Before he even reached the entryway however, a flash of purple in the corner of his eye stopped him. It was from outside. Curious, Thomas went over to the window to peer outside, hoping to see what that thing was. Maybe it was a pretty hummingbird or something, he mused, on its way flying south for the winter. He squinted as he saw the bushes across his yard tremble and this time he caught the flash of purple as it popped our from the foliage.

Only it wasn’t a hummingbird. It was a rabbit: A black rabbit wearing a velvet purple waistcoat. Thomas did a double take. he rubbed at his tired eyes to be sure he wasn’t just seeing things after staring at a blank screen for so long. Nope. It was really there. And if that weren’t jaw drop worth enough, now the black rabbit was taking out a silver pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket.

“Well that’s not something you see every day.”

Too curious to pass seeing this delightful oddity up close, Thomas quickly set down his mug, pulled his jacket over his favorite faded circle shirt and slipped his sneakers on. He was out the door and across faster than you could say Jeemanetty. When he was a few feet away from the rabbit, who was paying more attention to his pocket watch, Thomas slowed down to a tip toe so as not to scare the rabbit off. As he got closer Thomas saw that there was an elegant storm cloud design engraved on the back of the watch. What a cute little fella, Thomas thought to himself. But where did he come from? How did he get a fancy watch and threads like that? Should I call animal control though? As he was debating this, something even weirder happened.

“Ah geeze,” said the Black Rabbit. “I am so late! He’s gonna have my ears and whiskers for this, along with the rest of my head.”

Thomas literally felt his jaw drop and his eyes bug out near cartoon level.

“You can TALK!?” Thomas shouted.

The Black Rabbit jumped at this voice. The silver watch shook in his trembling hands, the poor thing. He hadn’t meant to frighten the little guy. It’s just a talking black rabbit wasn’t something you saw every day, not even in the Bermuda Triangle of America that is Florida.

“It’s okay little guy,” Thomas said, hands held out carefully. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I just wanna talk.”

The Black Rabbit anxiously looked from Thomas to his watch and then back again.

“No time to talk,” he said. “I’mlateI’mLATEI’MLATE!!!”

And then quick as a lightning strike the Black Rabbit dashed into the thicket of shrubbery and trees. Without thinking about it Thomas ran after him.

“Wait, I’m sorry! Come back! Maybe I can help you,” Thomas called out to the purple clad creature ahead of him.

He chased the Rabbit through brambles and bushes, across lawns and through low hanging leaves. If Thomas had taken a moment to think he would’ve realized that there was no way he could possibly catch up to a wild animal, least of all one with a waistcoat and pocket watch, which was surely proof that he was smarter than the average bunny even without the talking. He also would’ve noticed that the hole that the Black Rabbit had ducked into was much larger than a normal rabbit hole and was probably dangerous if someone were to get too close. Most of all, had Thomas slowed down for a moment to think, he would’ve realized that when he left the house in a hurry, he had forgotten to tie the laces of his sneakers that he’d slipped on.

But Thomas did none of those things. As a result, what he did do was trip on his laces just after seeing the Black Rabbit go down the whole. And because he was so close when he tripped on his laces, even if he wanted to, Thomas could not stop to think now.

All he could do was scream loudly as he fell headlong down the rabbit hole into the unknown.

Next =>

Tag List:   @altruistic-skittles @thekeytohappiness-is-you @canadian-crofters @icecoldparadise @the-pastel-peach @justisaisfine @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper @patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @jynxlovesluck @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6@hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstone-fox @smokeyrutilequartz @phlying-squirrel @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton @notveryglittery @eequalsmcscared @safesandersides @lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @ab-artist @unikornavenger  @queer-human-being  @grey-lysander @asofterfan  @fangirltothefullest @tinkslittlebelle @allsortsofgeekery @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @ironwoman359 @a-valorous-choice @broadwaytheanimatedseries @sugarglider9603 @xx-fandom-potato-xx @mycatshuman @punsterterry @journalanxiety @stuck-in-a-surrealist-painting @elementalshadowwitch @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @the-psycho-pie @satanblessi @thesassiersilv101 @bat-fangirl77-fan @icantbeme71097 @chituri @dangerfishie @grade-a-trash-blog @justsomerandomhooman @romano-cheesy @llamaavocado @pinkbea09 @aliceofscarletflames @backatthebein @em-be-lievable @mephonic @impatentpending @paperghastly @ravenclawangst @iamtrashcans @loganberrysanders @icequeenoriginal @book-of-charlie @ierindoodles @thatsthat24

#KDsWriting #Thomas in Wonderland AU #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #Logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #remy sanders #joan and talyn #emile picani #nate sanders #dragon witch #i'm super excited for this fic guys #ya girl is back at it #first fanfic of 2019

[elenajohansenreads]

Books I Read in 2019

#71 - Blue is the Warmest Color, by Julie Maroh

Virtual Mount TBR (22/48)

Rating: 1/5 stars

[guys, I’m about to go on a rant in this review. content warnings for biphobia, queer tragedy, with a very light dose of “is this paedophilia? it’s not clear.” i am ANGRY at nearly everything about this work, too, and i know anger on the internet can be infectious. please read with caution.]

What a horrible way to start Pride Month for me, reading what I'd heard was considered a new queer classic, and finding out it was a biphobic piece of trash. Let's start with the trash part first. In this story, we have: *Cheating is Okay *Presumably College-Age Girl Sleeping with Definitely Underage Girl *InstaLust substituted for Actual Emotional Development and "Love" *Affair Exposed in Stupidest Way Possible *Standard Homophobic Parents *Standard Kicked Out of the House for Being Queer *Bury Your Gays/Dead Gay Tragedy *Sex Will Kill You, Literally Why does any of this make a good story? On top of all the overused, and in some cases outright toxic, tropes this tale relies on, the huge time skips with no warning or explanation make this a difficult read to get into, because I kept having to read a new (unmarked) time period long enough to figure out when it was in relation to the one before it, then reread it in order to actually contextualize what was happening. I know the novel is short, but that's no reason to make me read parts of it twice to simply understand what the hell is going on. Other, more personal gripes: Don't like the art style. That wouldn't be a huge issue if I'd liked the story anyway, but honestly, everyone just looks ugly and the color palette is muddy and boring. Now, why it's biphobic. So, Emma clearly identifies as lesbian. Cool. Clementine, our tragic dead diarist, is never given a label, and judging by other reviews, her sexuality can be defined either as lesbian or bisexual. It depends on how much weight certain aspects of her character are given by the interpreter. Clem has a boyfriend before she meets Emma, but is clearly shown to not be comfortable with him sexually, while having sexual thoughts about women. That, to me, reads as lesbian, and plenty of self-identified lesbians have relationships with men before/while they figure themselves out. Or while they're deliberately closeted. Having ever been with a dude doesn't disqualify you. However, in the end, Clem cheats on Emma (years down the road) with a man. (gasp!) So, yeah, maybe she is bisexual, if she's sexually attracted to more than one gender. While the narrative doesn't come down firmly one way or the other, reading her as bi isn't a stretch at all, and given all the information, that's certainly how I see her. (Not to mention that years pass in this novel, identity is a journey, maybe she initially identified as lesbian and later realized she was bisexual. No, that's not lesbian erasure, that's an actual thing that happens.) But that's not really the biphobic part, I'm getting there. In the early stages of their relationship, Emma is Clem's teenage side piece. They enter a sexual relationship both knowing that what they're doing is cheating, because Emma knows Clem has a girlfriend. But that's okay, and it's okay enough that it goes on for quite a while, apparently. However, as adults, when Emma cheats on their committed relationship, it's the worst thing that she could have possibly done, and the thing that completely breaks Clem's heart. She says so, out loud, to Emma. But it can't just be that she cheated, because as we established, Clem was a cheater herself. She states outright that it's because Emma was cheating with a man. So that means she's not a real lesbian, and that means she couldn't possibly really love Clem, not if she wanted a man. And that's consistent with her character, sadly--Clem's biggest issue, when they were sleeping together but not "together" together, was that someday Emma would move on and find herself a man and be happy with him. Because she only saw Emma as curious about women, not genuinely attracted to them. Now, I'm not saying this never happened. Biphobia in the lesbian community is a real problem (as it is elsewhere, but that's a different discussion.) And especially at young ages, that sort of fear is a real thing, even if it's not a good thing. But why is this work so glorified as queer literature when it throws bisexuality under the bus? When it shows a probably-bisexual character in the worst light, as greedy, as dishonest, as needing "both" a man and a woman to be satisfied, oh, yeah, and also she's dead now? Sex killed her? Clem's no peach, in my lights--she's a cheater and a biphobe and the reason she and Emma are caught in the first place is because she decided to walk around Emma's family home naked, who does that?-- but she's the one left alive. She's the sympathetic one, the one we're supposed to feel sad for, because look at this great love she lost. Thank you, I hate it. I feel no sympathy for her. She's a terrible person and this is a terrible story. I want lesbians to have representation. I want media out there, made for them. But can it not spit on bisexuality and bi women in the process? Is that really too much to ask?

#booklr #book review #bisexuality #blue is the warmest color #my reading challenges #vmtbr 2019

[snarkybluechristian]

Hazbin Hotel: Angel’s Reason

It was a dark evening in hell.  It usually was, but it was unusually so for the demon heading to the Happy Hotel.  

Everyone had laughed when they heard about this “experiment” on TV, even Cherri, but Angel Dust, he felt the spark of something he thought he had lost: hope.  But it wasn’t just normal hope, it was hope that connected him to memories, more specifically memories of the child he had lost forever.

Her name was Cassandra Maria di Lucchese.  She was the result of an experimental phase he was in with a good high school friend when he wanted to know whether he was bi or purely gay.  He realized he was gay, and she accepted it.  They left the relationship on good terms.  

Unknown to either of them, Cassie was conceived.  Her mother Maggie Walters was only 17.  He was 19. She wrote him a letter as soon as she found out four months later.  He wasn’t in love with her and she wasn’t in love with him.  Nevertheless, they decided to enter a common law marriage, so that Maggie wouldn’t bear the shame of being an unwed mother and the child would be supported at least from a distance with money from his family. They didn’t plan on even living together.  Angel had too much living to do.  

It was so scandalous.  His father was so angry.  Angel couldn’t suppress a smile at that memory.

That smile grew wider when he remembered the day Cassie was born.  

He was at the birth per Maggie’s request.  She didn’t want to be alone and it was his fault, so he thought he could at least support her even if he intended to only pay child support and visit every so often. She was his friend after all.  

Angel only planned on staying until the birth was over.  He would sign the birth certificate, pay the bills, and leave to drink himself to oblivion. That was the plan, but everything changed the moment he met his daughter.

Tears formed at the corner of his eyes in remembrance.  When he entered that room and looked into his baby’s eyes, his heart melted.  When Maggie let him hold her, he knew from that moment on that he would be wrapped around her finger.  He fell madly in love and knew that nothing would ever be the same for him.  

They named her Cassandra and called her Cassie for short.  When her mother left the hospital, Angel went home with her and helped her around the clock.  He forgot all his plans for most of the next several months.  He hardly left Cassie’s side and forgot about his substance addictions and other commitments for a while.  His family would have to come pick him up for work because they knew he wouldn’t leave his daughter without some persuasion.  

Most of the family couldn’t understand his level of devotion, not even the ones who were legitimately married.  Whenever he was away, Cassie was all he thought about.  

It was ironic.  He was a queer man whose heart had been stolen by a baby girl.  When he would finally let himself leave her side for a night on the town, his romantic flings and drinking buddies pointed out his hypocrisy and laughed in his face, but he didn’t care.

As she grew up, Angel remained very involved in her life despite his work and his flings and his addictions.  He came by so often that Maggie made him his own guest room.  He prided himself on being the Daddy that his father never was. As a result, he and Cassie were very close.

They bonded over their shared love of clothes and the arts, especially dancing and singing.  He took her to more than a few dance clubs where no child had any business being, but she didn’t mind and somehow managed to survive more than a few of his drunken nights out on the town.

He made sure she had the best of everything as only a father of the mob could do.  He set his “wife” and his baby up in a nice house in a nice neighborhood and had her sent to the best schools.  He tried not to spoil Cassie, but sometimes, he couldn’t help himself.  He just couldn’t resist seeing her smile.

Nevertheless, Cassie was a good kid, sometimes too good, and it only got worse as she got older.  Her mother grew more involved with the local Catholic Church and so did Cassie.  They both grew into very devout and very good people.  So good that they decided they weren’t comfortable living off the mob’s money anymore.  

Of course, Angel had problems with that and more problems when Maggie and Cassie decided to live honestly in a crappy apartment off their own hard-earned money.  

He and his daughter remained on good terms, mostly, but she started resenting him and what his family did. Cassie had strong moral convictions and a mind of her own.  Two things that got her and Angel into many arguments throughout her teenage years. As a result, Angel started spending more time away from her.

All those arguments were Angel’s biggest regrets.  He cursed his mind’s renewed ability to remember as he reflected on his last evening with her.

It was Halloween 1946. Angel parked his black 1946 dodge in front of one Little Italy’s biggest theaters to see Cassie.  He had been out of town for a month while he and his family took care of some business in Italy and was dying to see her.  

Cassie was 17 and had graduated high school the spring before.  Her dream was to be a Broadway star, so she joined this theater to work herself up to that goal.  

Unbeknownst to her, her Daddy had pulled some strings and made some threats to make that happen. There were many advantages to being a member of a crime family.

Angel remembered checking himself in the rearview mirror before heading inside.  His human appearance was jarring in comparison to how he looked now.  He had dark brown hair and light green eyes.  His skin was olive, and he wore a suit like what he wore in death, except for the darker colors of course.  

After making sure he looked fine, he strutted out of the car and into the theater.  It was empty out front in the lobby except for a lone janitor sweeping the floor.  He looked around for a second before the janitor yelled at him.

Without looking up at him, the janitor said curtly, “Hey, buddy!  If you ain’t here for an audition, could ya move it?  Some of us have work to do.”

Annoyed at his tone, Angel said, “Shut it, pal.  I’m the father of one of the dancers, and I wanna see my little girl.  Is that alright wit’ ya?”

“I suppose,” the janitor said still without even looking for him.  “What’s her name?”

Angel’s lips curled into a smug smile and said, “Cassandra di Lucchese.  I’m her Daddy, Angelo di Lucchese.”

The janitor finally stopped his work to look up at him and stared at him in pure unadulterated terror. His attitude was gone, and he began to shake.

Angel adored this terror that came whenever he spoke his family name.  He adored the prestige and the notoriety that gave him and his family his power.  He also adored the look on his face.  It was priceless.

“Not so sassy now, are we, pal?” Angel gloated as he walked over to the now cowering janitor.

“I-I’m sorry,” the janitor said.  “I-I didn’t know…P-Please…I’ll give you anything…”

“Good, well, lucky for you, I just want to know one thing,” Angel said standing over him and intimidating him with his presence.  “Do you know where my daughter is?”

“Uh, no…S-Sorry.  I-I know every gal in the chorus line…Th-there’s no Cassandra di Lucchese here…You must h-have the wrong place,” the janitor said backing up against the wall.  

Angel looked to the side and sighed deeply before he asked, “Do ya know a Cassie Walters?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s in rehearsal right now, but it’s almost over,” the janitor said.  “She’s right in there.”

Angel walked past him in preoccupation and said, “Thank you.  Next time watch the attitude, buster.”

He followed the jazz music and walked through the theater doors.  The girls were in the middle of a tap-dancing number, so rather than interrupt, he stood against the wall and sulked.

When she started high school, Cassie started using her mother’s last name instead of his whenever she introduced herself and whenever she signed her name.  When they argued about it, she explained to him that she wanted to be known as herself rather than the daughter of a mafioso.  Cassie didn’t want to be associated with any of them.

That irritated Angel to no end.  That was probably why he kept choosing to forget about it rather than keep fighting pointlessly.

He watched Cassie dance to get his mind on something better.  She had the tap-dancing solo, and boy, was she knocking it out.  Her feet moved with such dexterity, finesse, and speed.  He never knew where God got that talent to put in her.  It certainly didn’t come from him or her mother.  She was unbelievable.  

On top of that, she could sing, she could act, and she could play several instruments.  Cassie was a Broadway star in the making.

Angel smiled.  He couldn’t help but be proud.  

The rehearsal soon ended, and as soon as all the ladies returned to their dressing room, Angel talked to the director about her progress and wrote him another check. Then when he thought the ladies had enough time to make themselves decent, he got the director to show him where the dressing room was.

The director knocked on the door and yelled, “Are you all decent?  One of your Dad’s wants to come in!”

When he received the confirmations, the director opened the door and said, “Go on in, Mr. Lucchese.”

“Much obliged,” Angel said as he strutted in.

He walked past about a dozen other girls before he saw his still sitting in front of a mirror.  

Cassie had her mother’s face, but she had his hair, eyes, svelte body, and olive skin.  Of course, Angel was biased, but she was absolutely beautiful.

She was wearing a white blouse with black pants, her tap-dancing shoes, and an old-fashioned looking broch.  For some reason, her long hair was up in a bun.  Cassie always had a weird sense of style.  Just like him.  It made him so happy.

Cassie was too busy adjusting her hair to notice he was present, so Angel crept up, hugged her from behind, and said, “Guess who?”

Cassie turned around, hugged him, and squealed in surprise, “Dad!  You’re back!”

Angel picked her up, spun her around, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and said, “What’s the buzz, bambina? I swear to God you’re getting lighter. All that dancing is making you too thin.”

“I missed you too, Dad,” Cassie said when her Dad finally put her down.  “But in your letter, you said you weren’t coming back for another week.”

“We got done early so I thought I’d surprise you,” Angel said leaning against the table.  

“So, you lied to me? That’s just swell.”

“I’m here for one minute, and you decide to give me sass.  Is that any way to treat your old man?”

“You’re not that old.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite.”

Cassie rolled her eyes playfully, sat back in her chair, and went back to messing with her hair.  

“By the way, what’s with the new duds?” Angel asked.  “Not that I don’t like ‘em.  Mind you. Just curious.”

“It’s a costume,” Cassie replied twirling around and showing him her cape.  “I’m goin’ to a Halloween party with the cast tonight after we go out for dinner.  I’m goin’ as Dracula.”

“So, you’re goin’ for more of a Bela Lugosi look then?”

“You got it.  I’ve been lookin’ forward to this all month. I spent days getting the cape just right and getting all the clothes perfect.  There’s gonna be a costume contest, and whoever wins gets treated by all the losers.”

“No kiddin’?  Well, in that case, your costume could use some work.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Cassie asked indignantly.  

“First of all, you need to wear your hair down,” Angel said turning her back around and pulling bobby pins out of her hair.  “For God’s sake, Cass, ya look like a fuddy-duddy school teacher.”

“Dad!” Cassie complained putting her hands on top of his.  “Stop it.  You know it takes forever to do anything with this hair.  Besides, I’m supposed to look like Bela Lugosi.  Suave and sophisticated and all that jazz…”

Angel gently pushed her hands off, continued pulling out bobby pins until her hair was again at its full long length, and said, “Cassie, babe, there’s nothin’ suave and sophisticated about looking like my high school English teacher.  You look fuddy-duddy.”

“But I’m supposed to look old, Dad,” she retorted.  “I’m Dracula…”

“He lets his hair flow freely in the book,” he retorted while brushing out her hair.  “Remember?  Think of it this way.  You’re now more authentic than all the other posers.  Besides, you look better with your hair down, Cass.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Cassie relented as her father finished brushing her hair and put the brush down.  

“Of course, I do,” Angel said quietly as he leaned in closer to her ear.  “I’m a queer.  You can trust me when it comes to this stuff.”

Cassie smiled and said, “That is true.”

“And take off this cheesy broch,” Angel said taking the opportunity to snatch the broch from the collar Cassie’s shirt and toss it in the trash.  “Good God, babe, are you tryin’ to look like a geezer?  Where’d you get this garbage anyway?”

“Dad!” Cassie said reaching down into the waste basket and pulling her broch out.  “I bought this at a trinket shop with Caterina when we were shoppin’ for costume supplies.  Excuse me if this theater gig doesn’t pay much.”

“I understand, so why don’t ya wear this instead?” Angel replied pulling a ruby diamond platinum pendant out of his pocket.  “I bought it for ya as a little souvenir from Italy.  Let me put on for you.”

“Dad,” Cassie said in surprise while Angel clasped it around her neck for her.  “It’s beautiful.”

Angel kissed her cheek and said, “There, doesn’t that look better?”

“Dad, I don’t know what to say,” Cassie managed to get out while looking over the pendant in awe.

“No need to thank me, bambina,” Angel replied with a smile while readjusting her hair.  “You know how I love to get my girl pretty things.”

Cassie then paused, turned to him, and asked with a look of suspicion, “Dad, where did you get this?”

“I told you, Italy,” Angel said purposely dodging the question.

“Where specifically?”

“At a store.”

Cassie continued studying his face in a way she knew annoyed him.  

“Bambina, what’s that face supposed to mean?” he whined.

“Cassie, are ya ready to go or what?” Cassie’s friend, Caterina, said walking up in her witch costume and saving him from another unwanted explanation which would lead to an unwanted argument.  “Wow, honey, your outfit is killer, especially that pendant you’re wearing.”

“Told ya,” Angel said hugging his daughter on the side and kissing her on the cheek again before walking away.  “I won’t hold you up since you got plans.  I love you, and I’ll call ya later.  Okay?”

Cassie sighed and said, “Ok, see ya.”

“Bye, Mr. Lu—Ow!” Caterina started to say before Cassie swiftly elbowed her in the side.  “I mean, bye, Mr. Walters.”

“Bye,” Angel said heading walking away with mixed feelings.

Apparently, her school buddy Caterina was the only one who knew who Cassie really was.  If that was what she wanted, then who was he to say no?

His thoughts were interrupted by an obnoxious, grandstanding masculine voice saying, “Hey, Cass!”

Angel turned around. He knew this fat-head’s voice.  He was the doll-dizzy creep who took his baby out on the town, got wasted, and left her out in Harlem by herself in the wee hours of the morning.  

Thankfully, Cassie had the sense to find a payphone and call Angel to come get her.  Naturally, he did not like that boy.

Angel hid behind a rack of clothes and watched from a distance.  Tony was dressed in the same outfit Cassie was much to her chagrin.

“You ain’t supposed to be in here, Tony,” Cassie said in annoyance walking past him with Caterina.

“Yeah, creep, get a move on,” Caterina said strutting past him as well.

“Cassie, look at this,” Tony said.  “You and I are dressed the same.  How about that?”

“Mine looks better,” Cassie said playfully paying him little attention.  “Yours looks like you bought it from a cheesy department store.”

“Well, maybe, but I was thinking we could, you know, go as a couple since we are dressed the same and all,” Tony said standing in front of her.

“As swell a time as I’m sure that would be,” Cassie replied sarcastically.  “I’m gonna say no.”

“Why not, babe?  I know the first date didn’t go so well, but…”

“‘Didn’t go so well?’ I had to call my Dad to get me out of Harlem at 2 in the mornin’.  Then, you don’t even have the decency to call and apologize?”

“That was over a month ago, babe, you’re the faithful one.  Don’t ya believe in forgiveness?”

“I do, but the Bible doesn’t tell ya to act a fool.  Scram, Tony.”

Cassie walked past him exiting the dressing room without another word with Caterina silently following behind her.  Her hands were tightly gripped around the strap of her bag.  

Angel knew from that that she was pissed.  This knucklehead was not taking no for an answer.  He had to do something, and now was the time to do it.

Angel crept up from behind, pushed Tony into a chair, pulled a knife out of his pocket, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and said, “Listen, you active duty fat-head.  That girl you’re so clobbered on is my daughter and she doesn’t like you, so you better lay off, or next time, Daddy Angelo di Lucchese is gonna do a little more than just bust your chops.  You hear me?”

When Tony meekly nodded, Angel let him go.

Tony fell backwards, trembled in his chair in absolute horror, and said, “C-Cassie’s a Lucchese? Oh, my God…”

“That’s right, buddy,” Angel said leaning close to his face.  “If you bother her again, you’re gonna have the whole Lucchese family on your tail…”

“DADDY!” Angel heard a familiar voice yell behind him.

He turned around and saw his daughter standing pale-faced in embarrassment in the doorway next to Caterina.

“Bambina…” Angel said as Tony took the opportunity to run out of the dressing room.

“Uh, I forgot my purse,” Caterina said awkwardly walking past them.  

“Dad, what in God’s name were you doing?!” Cassie yelled.

“I was getting that creep off your back, Cass,” Angel replied.  

“He would have left me alone anyways!  You didn’t have to do that!  God have mercy!  Now, the whole damn theatre is going to know that I’m a member of the Lucchese family!”

“Good, now, he’ll leave you alone!”

“Uh…” Caterina said having walked back when no one was looking.  “Cassie, why don’t we go?”

“I can’t go,” Cassie replied.  

“Why not?”

“He’s going to blab to everyone that I’m the daughter of Angelo di Lucchese.  You know how awkward that party’s going to be.  They’re going to keep me at arm’s length and treat me like a China doll.  That’s what always happens.”

“But Cass…”

“Get going, Caterina,” Cassie said.  “You don’t wanna keep Johnny waiting.”

Caterina sighed, gave her a hug, and said, “Okay, I’ll call you later.”

Cassie hugged her back and said, “Have fun.”

Caterina walked out. Cassie glared at Angel and then walked out behind her.  

Angel facepalmed, sighed deeply, and ran out after her yelling, “Cassie!  Bambina, where’d you go?!  I’m sorry!”

When he didn’t hear a reply, Angel sulked back to his car.  He had ruined his daughter’s evening.  The only thing left for him to do was to look for some drugs.

But right as he entered the car, he saw Cassie go out the front door of the theater.  She had changed into her normal clothes: a black sweater with a green plaid skirt, normal shoes, and a headband that matched her skirt.  The only thing she was still wearing was the ruby pendant.

Cassie saw Angel through the windows, but she clutched her bag and her coat and walked down the stairs as if she didn’t see him.

Angel hopped back out of the car and walked over to the other side.  

“Cassie, you can’t keep ignoring me,” he said.  “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Where do you think I’m going?” Cassie asked.  “I’m walking home.”

“No, you’re not,” Angel said throwing the car door open.  “Get in.”

Cassie turned around, rolled her eyes, and climbed into her Dad’s car.  

When Angel climbed in, he started the car and started heading for his favorite Italian restaurant. The drive would give them time to talk.

Angel looked over and saw that Cassie was staring out the window.  

He sighed and asked, “Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” she replied.

“Well, then, I’m sorry.”

“But you keep doing it.”

“I do not.”

Cassie turned around and said, “Oh, really?  Remember Jacob?”

“He was a Jew,” Angel said. “You’re Catholic.  You weren’t interested.  He wouldn’t take the hint.”

“Paul?”

“He had it coming.”

“Emilio?”

“He gave off bad vibes.  I didn’t like him.”

“Well, how about Steve?”

“Uh…okay, I went too far that time.”

“That time?  You go too far every single time a guy shows interest in me.”

“I was just trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?  By doing what?  By making every boy I turn down think the Lucchese mob is after them?”

“It makes them leave you alone.  Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah and ruins any chance of having a normal relationship.  Do you know how hard it is to be friends with a boy who can’t look at you without shuddering in fear?”

“That’s what gives us power, bambina,” Angel said proudly with a twisted smile.  “You should take advantage of it.”

“I don’t want to,” Cassie said passionately after a brief pause.  “I don’t want people to look at me and be afraid of me.  I want them to know I can be their friend, not their enemy. And I want them to be good to me because they know I’m a good person and respect me for who I am, not because I’m forcibly connected by genetics to a bunch of murderers and thieves.”

Angel looked at her. His features softened when he saw the passionate tears at the corners of her eyes.  

He looked back at the road, sighed deeply, and said, “Cass, I’m really sorry for threatening your suitors. Okay?  If it makes you happy, I’ll leave ‘em alone from now on.  Unless they threaten to hurt you or if they actually hurt you.  Or, if they get you pregnant.  Hell, if that happens, I’ll fire a shot gun right into their genitals and up their asses. Either way, they’ll never enjoying making love ever again.”

“Dear God, Dad,” Cassie said looking at him with an amused smile.  “Do you always have to talk like you’re reading a porn novel?”

“Yes,” Angel said as she playfully rolled her eyes.  “I hope you’re in the mood for Italian food.  We’re going to Fragole.”

“I figured that out when you passed my apartment.”

“I love it when you’re a wise guy.”

“Your apology is accepted by the way.”

“Thank God!” Angel said switching the radio on and having his eyes light up when he heard his favorite Halloween song come on.  “Oooh, yes! My favorite!”

“Oh, no,” Cassie said. “You know how much this song annoys me.”

“You know you like it,” Angel teased wrapping his arm around her shoulder while he drove.  “Now, come here, you.”

“Dad, you do this every year,” Cassie complained playfully as the opening instrumental part of the song finally finished.

“Just like the magic potion,” Angel sang much to his daughter’s “chagrin.” “You fill me with emotion.  You control my very soul.  You got me voodoo’d.  Who knew the goddess Venus would start this love between us?”

“How appropriate,” Cassie added sarcastically.  

“You fill me with desire,” Angel sang.  “You got me voodoo’d.”

Finally, Cassie relented, and they sang together, “You knew you had power.  Pick the hour when the full moon was above.  I was hypnotized when I looked in your eyes and my heart was filled with love.  Just like the power of Circe, you’ve got me at your mercy.  Always yours to have and hold, you’ve got me voodoo’d.”

“There, was that so bad?” Angel asked as the song continued with its big band instrumentals.  

“It gets more tolerable every year,” Cassie admitted as she leaned on his shoulder.

“Then, I’ll just have to keep singing it.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Eventually, Angel got them to the restaurant where they had their meal.  Fragole was a friend of “the family” so Angel managed to get him and his girl a section to themselves.  They had a good time.  They got to talk and catch up while enjoying some great food.  Everything was fine…until Angel once again opened his big mouth.

Angel had mentioned seeing the end of Cassie’s rehearsal, so she had been talking about how her dancing was going.

“I still can’t believe I got the solo,” Cassie said between bites of spaghetti.  “I’m the youngest girl there.  I mean, I thought I’d get in the chorus line for sure, but not the solo. Those usually go to the older girls.”

“Believe it, Cass,” Angel said between sips of wine.  “You’re goin’ places.  I always knew you were.  I talked to the director while you were changing in the dressing room.  He says you cook with helium every time you’re on that stage.  He knew you were amazing from your first audition.  He would have taken you even without my check…”

The words escaped his mouth before he even thought about what he was saying.  His only thought then was, “fuck.”

Cassie dropped her fork on her plate and yelled, “WHAT?!”

“Oh, shit,” Angel said facepalming himself.

“DAD!” Cassie yelled angrily as the color vanished from her face.  “How could you?!  You knew I wanted to earn my place, but you bribed my director anyway?!  What’s wrong with you?!”

“Cass, I was only trying to help,” Angel said trying to calm her and himself down.

“That’s always your goddamn excuse!” Cassie replied standing up from her chair.  “Why can’t you ever let me earn anything on my own?!”

“Because I don’t want to see you fail,” Angel said starting to get annoyed himself.

“Failure’s a part of life, Dad!  You have to work hard to get what you want, and you don’t always succeed, but I want to earn what I want because it’s the right thing to do!  Because that’s what’s fair!” Cassie yelled back.

Angel finally snapped standing up himself, “I got news for you, Cass!  Life isn’t fair, and it sure as hell isn’t gonna respect your noble intentions!”

She might be mad, but he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Cassie demanded.

“That means I stepped in cuz I knew that unless I did you’d be discarded like all the other nobodies of this world,” Angel began.  “Do you know how the big wigs of this world see girls like you?  To all them at the top, you’re a nobody!  To them, you’re just a Walters, a name they don’t know and don’t care about.  You’re a dime a dozen, and if you go, there are a million others waiting to take your place!  To get to the top, you have to slave away for them and do whatever disgraceful, dirty thing they ask!  You can’t trust them to do the right thing!  They won’t do the right thing unless you force them to care!  That’s what our family did and look at where we are now!  You have to stop being naïve and take advantage of the connections you have in this world, Cass.  Unless you do, you are gonna be eaten alive out there!  And I love you too much to watch that happen!  You also need to stop pretending you aren’t as much a Lucchese as I am for the sake of some naïve, self-righteous, and idealistic crusade!”

“I don’t care what you say! I’m a redeemed woman now!  I’m not goin’ back to livin’ as a pampered pet livin’ off your blood money.  And self-righteous?  At least, I’m honest!  Unlike you!”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“I know all your sins. You’re a murdering, lying thief in a family of other murdering, lying thieves!  You’re a junkie and a drinker who loves sodomy and adultery!  But that’s not the worst thing about you!”

“What is the worst thing about me then?!”

Cassie’s face suddenly fell as if she was hesitating, but Angel was still angry.

“Come on, Cassie!” Angel yelled.  “You brought it up!  What do I do that you think is so awful?!  What could I possibly do that is worse than all those other sins combined! Huh?!”

Angel felt a hard object get thrown at his eye.  Thankfully, he blinked before it could do any damage, but he still felt a bruise forming. Angel looked down to see what it was and saw the ruby pendant on the ground.

He looked up to see Cassie crying angry tears.

“You’re a hypocrite and a fucking coward,” Cassie said before she took her purse and her coat and powerwalked away from the table and out of the restaurant.

Angel picked up the pendant and stared at it silently for a few minutes.  When the owner came by to check on them, Angel gave him enough cash to cover the bill and told him to keep the change before he walked outside to find his daughter.

He found her smoking on the sidewalk.  He could tell from her face that she had been crying.  When she saw him, she turned away until he asked her for a match.  She handed him a book of matches from her purse, and he lit his own cigarette.  They stood there in silence for a while taking in the scene and watching dusk turn into night.  Each of them was trying to cool down in their own way.  

Angel knew where Cassie had got her temper from.  He wasn’t angry at her.  He was more confused than anything.  There was so much on his mind, but he couldn’t will himself to speak until the street lamp finally came on.

“Cassie, I ain’t mad at ya,” Angel said before taking another puff from his cigarette.  “I’m just confused.  We used to be so close.  You know.  Then after ya moved out with your mother, we started fighting more.  I understand you hating my family.  I do, too.  I hate almost every single one of those bastards.  But I don’t understand why you’re upset at me.  Why do you think I’m a hypocritical coward?”

Cassie looked at him and visibly hesitated.  

“Bambina, you’ve never been afraid of talking to me,” Angel reassured her.  “You don’t have to start now.  You know I would never lay a finger on you for being honest.  If I did, you have my permission to fire a shotgun up my ass. Okay?  Now, tell me.  Why am I a hypocritical coward?”

Cassie sighed and said, “You act like you’re a hard-boiled mafia gangster who only really cares about a handful of people, but I know for a fact that that’s not who you really want to be.  You hate being a part of it as much as I do, but instead of cutting yourself off from it like I am, you indulge your flesh to numb your pain.  That’s why you indulge in your liquor, your drugs, and your sodomy.  You do it to make living with yourself easier because you’re miserable.  That’s why I called you a hypocritical coward.  I’m not wrong.  Am I?”

Angel paused for a second and asked, “What makes you think I don’t like being a part of the mob?”

“When you’re drunk, you talk…a lot.  I’ve been around you during your binges often enough to hear it.  ‘Oh, bambina, I hate killing people for my Dad.  I always see their faces in my dreams.’  ‘Oh, bambina, I wish I was an orphan, so I could do what I wanted with my life.’  ‘Oh, bambina, I don’t like carrying out Dad’s stupid campaigns.  I’d rather be at the clubs snortin’ coke or f****** another queer…’”    

“Christ, I really said that to ya?”

“Yes.”

“Well, uh, Cassie, I was drunk,” Angel said defensively.  “I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Jesus said out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks,” Cassie pushed.

“Don’t quote the Bible at me.”

“That means that something in you wants to leave it even if it’s just a little bit.”

“Cassie…” Angel said defensively.

“You want to leave, but you won’t let yourself admit it!” Cassie said with more passionate tears rolling down her cheeks.  “If you were really all bad like the others, I would learn to live with it, but you’re not! You’re just too scared to change, and one day, it’s gonna destroy ya!  I love you too much to watch that happen, but there’s nothin’ I can do, and I hate it!”

Cassie stared at him with her eyes that pierced his soul.  In the present and in the past, Angel reflected on her words and knew she was right.

Angel sighed deeply before he said, “Okay, stop it.  You’re right about me.  Why did God make you so damn perceptive?”

“Then, why don’t you leave it?” Cassie asked.

“Cass, it’s a lot easier for you than it is for me.  First of all, you’re a woman…”

Cassie shot him a questioning glance and he said, “Okay, there’s a lot about being a woman that’s unfair, but you still have an advantage over me.  Unless you do somethin’ really crazy, no one in the mob cares what you do.  It’s not like that for me.  I’m a son of the Don.  I have no choice but to be involved in this, Cass.  My Dad already hates me.  If I were to leave, he’d hunt me down and make me pay.  Even if he left me alone, I’d be watched for the rest of my life. Hell, you wanna know where I really got the pendant?  I took it as a bribe from a guy I was supposed to kill for desertin’.”

“Then Dad, why don’t you leave New York and go somewhere else?”

“I’d have to go somewhere far away, Cass, and I could never come back.  I mean, where would I go?  What would I do?”

“You could go to San Francisco.  I’ve heard that there’s a large community of queers over there.  You’d fit right in.”

“I’d have to change my name.”

“How about ‘Angel Dust?’ It’s fittin’ for all the drugs you do.”

Angel looked at Cassie and smiled.  He loved her sense of humor.

“You’d be alone,” Angel said.  “If they found out you knew anything, you’d be in trouble and I couldn’t protect you.”

“I’d go to San Francisco with you if it would make you feel better,” Cassie said with a smile.  “I’d miss Mom and my friends, but I could write them letters and call them when I wanted.”  

Angel’s cigarette was done so he flicked it on the ground and said, “I don’t know, babe.  That’d be a big change for me.”

Cassie’s face fell. Angel could never stand seeing her sad.

He walked over to her, gave her a hug, and said, “I’ll think about it.  Alright?”

Cassie hugged Angel back and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

When she finally let go of him, she said, “Maybe you can go to Alcoholics Anonymous, too.  Get help for all your addictions…”

“Let’s focus on one problem at a time, babe.  Slow down a bit.  Will ya? Next thing I know, you’ll tell me to go to an asylum for my queerness,” he replied.  

“Hell, no.  Have you ever read the accounts of Nellie Bly?  That was a long time ago, but not much has changed since then from what I’ve been reading.  I wouldn’t send a rat to one of those places.”

“Speaking of queers, wanna go to Greenwich Village for a Halloween party?  I told some buddies I’d be there, and I’d hate for that costume you worked so hard on to go to waste.”

Cassie smiled playfully and said, “You can’t fool me.  You just wanna go fishing under the guise of spendin’ some time with me.”

“Can’t I do both?” Angel asked while posing dramatically.  “You like the cabarets anyhow, and if I find a date, you can drive yourself home.”

“Only you would choose a place where no boy’s gonna flirt with me.”

“So, you wanna go?”

“Yeah.  Just let me change in the car.”

As they walked to the car, Angel remarked, “You know.  You’re remarkably tolerant of hedonism for a good Catholic girl.”

“On the list of eight cardinal sins and in Dante’s circles of hell, lust and gluttony are at the bottom in terms of seriousness,” Cassie replied.  “Besides, Jesus ate with the prostitutes and tax collectors, so I do, too.”

“Aren’t you an enlightened little saint?”

“You’re insufferable.”

When they reached the car, Cassie changed into her Dracula costume while Angel drove down to his favorite night club in Greenwich Village.  

He had brought her to these places since she was small enough to sit on the pool tables and push the white ball around whenever he’d play pool with her.  Looking back, it was not a responsible thing to do with a little girl, but he was 23 and stupid.  Thankfully, the others liked her enough and Angel never got drunk enough to black out.  

The worst thing that ever happened was that Angel got too drunk to drive or even find the car, and Cassie was tired and scared to the point of tears.  He ended up sleeping on bench with her on his chest covered by his coat.  God was truly merciful to the stupid.

They arrived at the cabaret where everyone was dressed up in their best costumes, mostly in drag but others in Halloween costumes.  The place was crowded with queers from all over New York.  It had Halloween decorations all over to dazzle the eyes and loud big band music with a large dance floor to dance on.  Angel was home.

Angel talked to Isabella, the club’s bisexual bartender, to open a tab for him and his daughter.  She and Isabella were good friends, so he knew it was safe to leave them together.  

“Alright, bambina,” Angel said handing her the keys to his car while clasping the pendant around her neck again to complete her costume.  “I’ll come by to tell you when I get a date but take the keys in case I forget. You’re still too young to drink, but if you do, don’t leave the drink out of sight of yourself or Isabella.  I know we’re at a gay bar, but believe me, some of the lesbians in here are thirsty.  And for God’s sake, call your mother if you get too drunk to drive or she will murder me slowly.  You did tell her you were with me, right?”

“Yes, Dad, you have given me the same spiel every time since I was 13,” Cassie said sassily.  “Do you think I haven’t memorized all this by now?”

“Bambina, I’m your Daddy,” Angel said.  “I’m always gonna be paranoid when it comes to you.  You know that.”

“Then why are you leaving me alone in a bar?” Cassie said sarcastically before Angel gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.  

“I love you, bambina,” Angel said rubbing the top of her head.  “Wish me luck.  Daddy’s going fishing.”

“Don’t drown,” Cassie replied as he walked away much to Isabella’s laughter.

“Shut up,” Angel said while Cassie and Isabella continued laughing.

“You’re such a gas, Cass,” Isabella replied.

“Don’t encourage her!” Angel yelled over his shoulder.  

He could hear the girls laugh out loud while he got ready to mingle.  Angel spent most of the night after that drinking and striking out with every man he tried to flirt with while Isabella and Cassie watched and cracked up at his expense in between conversations of their own.  

Eventually, Angel sat down in an empty seat next to Cassie, leaned backwards from both disappointment and drunkenness, and moaned quietly.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Cassie asked mockingly.  “Is the sugar all rationed?”

Angel sat up, turned around, and said, “I just can’t figure out what I’m doin’ wrong, Cass.  I’m doin’ everything right.  I swear to God.  These men aren’t really queer.  They’re all posers just comin’ in to laugh at us on Halloween.”

“Maybe it just isn’t meant to be, Dad,” Cassie replied with her unique blend of optimism and sass between sipping her soda.  “It could be a sign.  Maybe God’s killin’ your sex appeal to make you start actin’ like a marred man.”

“Nah, that can’t be it. First off, your mother and I aren’t technically married, so I’m not technically ‘adulterous.’  Second, if this is a sign of anything, it’s that I’m becoming a geezer.  I just don’t got it in me anymore.”

“Dad, you’re being overdramatic cuz you’re drunk.  You’re 36.”

“I know.  I’m ancient.  No one wants me.  I can’t even get anyone to dance with me.”

Cassie looked at him thoughtfully and said, “I’ll dance with ya, Dad.”

“Really?  You’ll let yourself be seen in public with a cheesy old geezer?” Angel said staring at her pleadingly.  

“It’s never stopped me before.  Has it? Besides,” Cassie said before she stood up, took off her cape, and tap-danced in place.  “Do you think I brought these shoes just for the aesthetic? Come on.”

“Bambina, you make your Daddy so happy,” Angel said leaping up joyfully.  “You’re so good to me in my old age.”

“Hey, Isabella,” Cassie said leading her Dad to the dance floor.  “Could you close the tab?  He doesn’t need any liquor in his system.”

“Hey!” Angel said staggering behind her.  “I’m not drunk.”

“Do you wanna know how much you’ve spent already?”

“Alright, fine.”

Angel sobered up a little once he started dancing with Cassie.  He usually did.  Looking back, those were the best times he had with her.  It was him who taught her how to swing dance and do every other dance he knew, but she had long since surpassed him.  It was all Angel could do to keep up with her now.  Of course, he might say it was because he was buzzed but he knew the truth.  She was much better than him and he was okay with that.  Angel ran out of energy long before Cassie did, but he kept going.  He didn’t want it to stop, so they kept going until she was finally tired out.

In the present, Angel wondered if he kept going because he somehow had a premonition of what was going to happen next.  

At around 2am when Angel and Cassie were too tired to keep going anymore, Cassie helped her father walk to the car with the intention of driving herself and her father back to the apartment.  

Unfortunately for both of them, the car had a flat tire, so Cassie helped her Dad get to a bench and said, “Alright, Dad, I’m gonna call a cab.  You have a preference for who I call?”

“Nah, babe, as long as they get us home,” Angel said sinking into the bench he was sitting on while she walked over to the pay phone not ten feet away.  

Looking back, Angel thought of a million ways this scenario could have gone differently, a million things he could have done instead, but his memories forced him to face the truth.

While Angel was sitting there in his drunken stupor, he heard Cassie call for him once.  Then twice.  Then finally in a blood curdling scream that sobered him immediately.  

Angel leaped to his feet and heard a loud pop.  He saw someone clad in black run away leaving a trail of blood behind him.  He saw Cassie lying on the ground of the phone booth struggling to breathe and coughing up blood with a bullet wound in her chest.

“Oh, my God,” Angel said as he ran over to her throwing off his coat and suspenders and pulling off his shirt to use as a tourniquet.  “CASSIE! Cassie!  Cassie!  Stay with me, bambina!  Please!”

“What the hell is…?!” Isabella yelled running out and seeing Cassie bleeding on the ground.  “OH, MY GOD!”

“AMECHE AN AMBULANCE NOW!” Angel yelled at her as he wrapped the shirt around his hand and held it over the wound.  

Isabella quickly nodded and ran inside to do what he asked.

“Cassie, can you hear me?” Angel pleaded as climbed in and propped her up on his lap to help her breathe more easily.  “If ya do, please say something.”

“Dad…” Cassie replied weakly.  “I’m sorry…”

“What?  What on earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“He wanted the pendant. But I didn’t want to give it to him, so I stabbed him with my pocket knife, but he shot me and took it anyway. I hope he’s not hurt too bad…”

Angel only noticed then that the necklace was gone.  The thief only wanted the necklace he gave her…

“I’m sorry…” Cassie said. “I was stupid…”

“Cass, don’t say that,” Angel replied unsuccessfully trying to hold back his tears and using one of his hands to stroke her face.  “You’re not stupid.  You’re brave. You’re so brave.  You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known in my life. You had the guts to leave a comfortable, protected life as a gangster’s child to live a hard but honorable life as a godly woman.  You’re so much braver than I’ll ever be.”

“You can be brave, too…You can do the same thing…”

“No, I can’t.  I need you, bambina.  I can’t do it without you.  I’m too much of a fucking coward.”

“I think you have it in ya…”

Cassie started coughing up blood uncontrollably.  Angel sat her up holding her against his chest to help her breathe and begged God to take him instead of her.  He wept and rocked back and forth as his white undershirt was covered in blood until the coughing subsided.  He felt so completely helpless.

“Dad, it’s okay…” Cassie finally said as Angel lowered back down against his chest.  “I know where I’m goin’ and I pray one day I’ll see you there, too…”

“Cassandra Maria di Lucchese, don’t say that,” Angel pleaded.  “You have so much to live for.  You have me, your mama, your friends, the church, your career.  For God’s sake, you want to be a star.  You can’t leave yet!  Please, I’m beggin’ you!  Don’t go! You’re the best thing to ever come out of my goddamn life!  I love you so much!”

“I love you too, Dad…” Cassie replied with her voice getting weaker.  “I love everybody…Please tell them that…But it’s okay…I’ll see them all again, and the way I see it, I still get to dance among the stars with the best audience of all…I’ll be okay…”

Cassie looked up and weakly reached up to her Dad’s face with her right hand.  He held it against his face as he felt her life slipping away.

“Dad…could you sing me out?” Cassie asked more quietly than before.  “I’m about to die, so please make it a good one…”

“No,” Angel replied.  “I’ll make it the one you hate the most.  That way, you have to wait until I sing something better.”

“You’re insufferable…” Cassie said with her sassy smile.

Then Angel began singing slowly to her as the tears kept flowing and he looked into her eyes to be sure she got the message, “Just like the magic potion, you fill me with emotion. You control my very soul.  You got me voodoo’d.  Who knew the goddess Venus would start this love between us?  You fill me with desire.  You got me voodoo’d.  You knew you had power.  Pick the hour when the full moon was above.  I was hypnotized when I looked in your eyes and my heart was filled with love. Just like the power of Circe, you’ve got me at your mercy.  Always yours to have and hold, you’ve got me voodoo’d.”

Cassie was too weak to hold her hand up anymore, so it slipped down but Angel held it in his hand and squeezed it tightly.  There was almost nothing left in her.  It was all Angel could do to not lose it completely.

“How was that, bambina?” Angel asked gently.

“That was the best you’ve ever done…” Cassie replied as she finally slipped away.  “Joke’s on you, though…I always loved that song…”

Cassie’s eyes slid shut and she stopped breathing.

“Cassie?” Angel asked shaking her shoulders.  “Cassie?!”

Angel heard Isabella crying outside the phone booth.  As the sirens approached, his mind grew quieter.  All emotions were silenced except for his grief that overpowered them. Tears flooded out of his eyes as he opened his mouth and wailed out his pain.

The ambulance came and told him what he already knew.  She was gone, but reluctantly, he let go of her hand and watched them take her body anyway.

It was then that he noticed the trail of blood left behind by his daughter’s killer.  Temporarily, another emotion possessed him: pure, unadulterated rage.

Angel stood up, put on the coat he had thrown on the ground, and pulled his hand gun out of his pocket.

Isabella saw him and only said, “Put a good shot in for me.”

Angel turned around, nodded, and followed the blood trail.  It led to a small warehouse down the road.  He didn’t think.  He didn’t need to.  He was guided by his own criminal instincts and the rage that sharpened them.  

When Angel arrived, he opened the door and looked around until he saw the bastard with his shoulder being bandaged in the corner.  He was holding the ruby pendant in his hand, but he had the audacity to ask Angel what his problem was.

Angel pointed the gun at his head and said with unbridled fury behind his voice, “THIS IS A MESSAGE FROM THE LUCCHESE FAMILY, YOU SON OF A BITCH!  SPECIFICALLY, MY LATE DAUGHTER WHO YOU JUST KILLED, CASSANDRA MARIA DI LUCCHESE!!!!!!”

Angel didn’t just shoot him in the head.  He emptied his magazine on him.  Then when he saw Cassie’s knife sitting on the table, Angel used it to stab him repeatedly until he was soaked in his blood and the corpse was almost unrecognizable.

When his rage was satisfied, he grabbed the pendant out of his hand, stuffed it in his pocket, and walked away.  No one dared to approach him.  Angel then ran to his car to go to the hospital where his daughter was.

Angel wished he could say he changed for Cassie after that, but he didn’t have the strength.  He lost his mind.  After the funeral, he locked himself in his apartment with his drugs and liquor and refused to open the door for anyone, not even his sister Molly.  

He only opened the door when Maggie came by one night.  When she entered with luggage, food, and more liquor, she said nothing, but she opened her alcohol and gave him some as well.

Her only words were, “I know you’re the one who killed our baby’s murderer.  Thank you.”

She then sat down next to him and started chugging her liquor next to him.  Very quickly, she was binging and crying along with him, and they talked more than they had in years.  He appreciated his friend’s presence.  She was the only one who understood how he felt.  And she didn’t leave until the day he died.

Together, they went on a path of mutual self-destruction.  They left their respective jobs and became full-time junkies.  They lived together and even slept in the same bed, which ironically made them more of a husband and wife than when Cassie was alive. Together, they drank.  Together, they used.  Together, they became prostitutes when their families cut them off, so they could buy more drugs.  Together, they tried any new thing they could to numb the pain just a little bit more and make their lives more bearable, whether that was substance abuse, sex, or anything else that caused trouble.

They grew very close over the next year.  It made sense, because very soon, all they had was each other.  Angel and Maggie pushed everyone else away.  They lived in an isolated wonderland of hedonism all their own.  They had so much fun that it drowned out the misery their hearts were feeling.  Despite it brought on them, they were happy together, and the way Angel saw it, he was in some way doing what Cassie had wanted.

Then came the day Angel died.  It was Halloween.  He woke up early in the morning from another nightmare, but his partner-in-crime wasn’t there.  He got up to look for her, and all he found was a note she left.

Maggie said that she was tired of the empty life she was living and the pain her addictions could never cure.  She had left to check herself into the rehab facility her church sponsored and begged Angel to come with her to receive the help he needed.

Angel crumpled the note in his hand and tossed it aside in anger.  His only friend had abandoned him, and he was by himself again.  Angel sat down and wept quietly for a while until he remembered the stash of PCP they had bought the night before.

Angel dumped out her share and his share for himself.  He inhaled all of it until it was gone.  

Not too long after, he fell on the floor convulsing uncontrollably.  He tried to call for help, but his voice was gone.  His vision began fading, and his mind began to create more hallucinations.  He could have sworn that he saw his little girl looking as she was on that fateful day a year before begging him to change.  She was beautiful.  He tried to reach for her, but his body wouldn’t cooperate, and she disappeared.

The last thought Angel remembered thinking before he died was, “I’m sorry, bambina…”

When the Grim Reaper took Angel’s soul to Judgement, he accepted it without complaint.  When God gave his judgement, he listened quietly and unapologetically, but somehow, he could feel from the love and sadness emanating from him that he understood how he felt.

The only thing Angel said before he was sent to hell was, “Thank you for looking after Cassie.  I know you’re a trillion times the father to her that I ever was.”

When he was taken away, Angel could somehow still feel Cassie’s tears falling.

From then on in hell, Angel lived as he wanted.  He took the name “Angel Dust” from Cassie’s joke, made a name for himself in the adult porn industry, and stayed away from the mob when his relatives finally did descend. He was no saint, but he figured that his actions would make Cassie a little bit happier.

As time wore on, he didn’t forget, but the pain became easier to bear as he lived his new life and made new friends.  He was slightly disappointed when Maggie didn’t come to join him when she died but only slightly.  After all, he couldn’t blame her for wanting to avoid hell.  

Life was still miserable, but the drugs, sex, and bad friends made it tolerable.  

Back in the present, Angel was finally standing in front of the Happy Hotel.  He didn’t know what redemption would take or how hard it would be. He didn’t even know if he could do it, but for the first time in forever, his heart felt hopeful.  That hope reminded him of Cassie, and even if that was the only result from it, it was still worth investing his time in, especially if it meant he could finally see his daughter as the man she always believed he could be.

#hazbin hotel #vivziepop #angel dust

[that-curly-haired-lesbian]

Hey! Could you possibly do a queer reading into Dear John and how it could possibly be about coming out?

Dear John…I-I mean @ryanprettyboyrossI just wanted to start out by telling you that I’ve been excited about writingthis forever,but then depression sucker-punched me in the soul and put a stop to all mywriting (academic or otherwise) for literal weeks and when I finally got out ofthat there was a ton of essay to write… fuuuuun! 🙃🙃🙃

Anywayyyy, I’m out ofmy funk and just wanted to let you know that ever since you sent me this askages ago I’ve been intrigued by it.

I thank you all foryour patience during my absence and hope that this analysis was worth the wait! 😊

Dear John is one of my absolute favorite Taylor songs and in myopinion one of her most underrated, but solid works lyrics-wise.

In it I think hertalents as a poet and writer really shines through (friendlyreminder that Tay wrote the whole Speak Nowalbum by herself at 19 *cries in pride*) and for that I adore the freaking sparkleout of the song in question.

However, as I’vepreviously mentioned in asks and the like, for me it’s also always been one ofthe most interesting and complex ones to analyze. I’ve always kind of assumed Dear John is one of those songs that isnot what it seems.

My theory for a longtime has been that it’s some kind of metaphor describing queer identity andexperience and then you came along and placed this coming-out-narrative in mylap. Thank you very much, by asking me to stick to that thesis you’ve made myjob a lot easier, otherwise this analysis would’ve been all over the place withpossible theories! ��

So let’s talk aboutthis for a sec, the majority of the fandom seem to assume it’s a song writtenabout the conveniently named John Meyer with whom Taylor was allegedly in arelationship from December 2009-February 2010. Meyer even went along with thatnarrative claiming the song “humiliated” him (x) to which Taylor responded thathe was being presumptuous in blatantly assuming the song to be about him. (x)

While therelationship did last for Taylor’s bearding-standard of 3 months a lot ofGaylors do seem convinced that Meyer was Taylor’s one (at least post-fame) non-PRboyfriend, for my personal thoughts on that please read this ask. (x)

Meyer may be namedJohn and the timeline during which the song was written may fit with thetimeline of whatever was going on between him and Taylor (PR or otherwise) but “DearJohn” as a phrase or title has a history longer than that.

Perhaps what most contemporary people think of(besides the Taylor song, provided they have any musical taste at all 😊)when hearing the phrase is the 2010 movie by the same name (it possibly cameout right around the time Tay was writing the song and we do know she likesromantic movies, so she may very well have found her inspiration there) whichin turn is based on the 2006 novel by Nicholas Sparks.

Another perhaps lessknown use of the phrase is the so called “Dear John letter.”

It refers to a wifeor girlfriend writing her husband/boyfriend a letter while he’s in themilitary, the letter is written to inform him that his partner has foundsomeone else and wants to break up/divorce, the phrase dates back to at leastWorld War II.

Wikipedia defines a “DearJohn letter” simply as “a break-up letter to an absent boyfriend or husband.”(x)

That does indeed seemto fit the bill for the song, Taylor sings to a “John” that is no longer a partof her life and informs him why the relationship had to end. (This song is to let you know why.”)

So, if the song isn’tabout John Meyer at all and we were just encouraged to think so, who or what isit really about?

Well, John is apretty common all-American name, in fact it was so common during the WWII erathat it was picked specifically to be a placeholder name when referring tobreakup letters addressed to solders (“Dear John letters.”) I think it’spossible that Taylor is using this pretty generic name as a placeholder too.

In the context of hersong “John” is the set of rules, ideas and practices (such as bearding) put inplace within the music/entertainment industry (specifically the country scene)to systematically closet performers to “save” or benefit their careers. 🤮

Long story short, Ibelieve “John” to be the heteronormativity and societal pressures to conform tosaid normativity which is keeping our singer in the closet. If you will, “John”is her own internalized homophobia which is stopping her from publicly comingout.

That being said thisis just an idea (cred to the asker, @ryanprettyboyross of course) on what thesong may be about, I personally have thought up many a theory regarding thisone in my time and everyone else is free to do so as well.

Credit for the lyricsbeing used goes to AZLyrics as usual; you all know the drill by now.

Without further ado,let’s get analyzin’

–

Long were the nights when

My days once revolved around you

Counting my footsteps

Praying the floor won’t fall through, again

–

Let’s have a look at these opening lines, Taylorclaims to have difficulty sleeping, this is because her life (or “her days” akaher every waking moment) revolves around pleasing someone who isn’t herself. 

Her days revolve around living up to the perfect image of America’s LittleHeterosexual Sweetheart™ that her team as well as her masses of adoringconservative fans built for her.

She can’t truly be herself and has to be careful whatshe does, what she says and how she acts. A feeling I’m sure many closetedpeople are more familiar with than they’d like.

She watches her every steps, every movement, everyword very carefully as to not accidentally out herself. She prays that peoplewon’t catch on and she’ll fall from her country princess throne (or through thedelicate floor of heteronormativity she has to constantly step on) and ruin herown career.

That constant fear is stressful for anyone who iscloseted, but must be so on an evendeeper level for someone who’s so public and simultaneously so deep in thecloset. A sad fate for such a young, talented artist and quite frankly it devastatesme to think about it in any greater detail. 💔

–

And my mother accused me of losing my mind

But I swore I was fine

–

Taylor must feel lonely to say the least, essentiallybeing required to refrain from being herself and hiding her truth, but one can atleast hope she has the unwavering support of her family and close friends towhom I think it’s safe to assume she’s out and has been for quite a long time. (Probably at least since high school, maybeeven earlier? My point is that she was most likely out to at least the family,if not to most of her friends long pre-fame.)

Her mother is mentioned here and my interpretation ofthe line is that Andrea is starting to see what the constant bearding andheteronormativity is doing to her daughter.

Perhaps she worries that Taylor is truly losing hersense of self and inquires whether the oldest of her children feels the PRgames have gone too far and if she wants to stop it and publicly come out? Afterall, Taylor’s parents raised her in a family free from homophobia if we’re tobelieve Taylor herself.

Taylor however reassures her mother that it’s fine;it’s all just a necessary part of the job and a small price to pay to get tolive her professional dream.

Chely Wright, a lesbian country singer who was closetedin the industry for a long time wrote the following in her book, Like Me: Confessions of a Heartland CountrySinger:

“I’d made a dealwith God early on that I’d go without love in my life, just give me music” (x)and I think that’s a pretty universal mindset among closeted musicians.

The chance to have music and performance andcreativity in one’s life is worth giving up on a happy and truthful personallife for. As long as you get to practice your art any personal sacrifices don’tmatter, or at least they’re not supposed to. Taylor promised her mother thiswas the case for her as much as anyone else.

–

You paint me a blue sky

And go back and turn it to rain

–

Here I think Taylor’s describing what this idea islike in theory, the idea of a fruitful career with hordes of adoring fans andcommercial success is all she ever dreamed of ever since she was a little girlwho repeatedly begged her parents to relocate the family to Nashville.

In practice though, it turns out Nashville is a prettyscary place for a young, gay singer, in fact the community there is viciouslyhomophobic. (x) Something that probably became apparent to Taylor pretty soon.

The perfect dream of country music stardom wasTaylor’s blue sky, but pretty soon it had been turned to rain by the systematichomophobia in the community she now found herself a part of.

–

And I lived in your chess game

But you changed the rules everyday

–

PR is a lot like chess, it’s one thoroughly thoughtout move after another, but instead of getting your opponent’s queen you moveand strategize in the hopes to please the general public with its conservativecountry fans. Not only them, but also producers, record labels and PR teams allcommitted to keeping the public image of heterosexuality, the one that sells andkeeps their artists afloat in the mainstream.

Taylor does her best to keep up with these moves andcountermoves, but it confuses her and she feels like what is expected of herchanges from day to day thus causing her to struggle with keeping up. Whatshe’s allowed to do, say and sing all changes constantly to adapt to the latestPR strategy and Taylor feels lost and helpless in the machinery that is theeconomy of homophobia, like a pawn lost on a giant chessboard.

–

Wonderin’ which version of you I might get on the phone,tonight

Well I stopped pickin’ up and this song is to let youknow why

–

Who is she talking about here then?

Well, I think this line is describing her relationshipto Team Taylor. I am assuming a kid like Taylor has had extensive mediatraining on how “not to appear gay” or whatever *puke* so if she messes up shelikely knows she’s going to get a call from her publicist.

Sometimes I’m sure that phone call wasn’t all toonice, as we’ve discussed before it seems Taylor’s publicist from her youngerdays was a very big fan of having Taylor stay in the closet, so if Taylor daredto publicly venture out of it in even the smallest of ways I’m sure she’d knowwhy that wasn’t advisable by the end of the night.

I’m not saying Taylor’s publicist was homophobic ornasty or mean, because obviously I don’t know that. I’m saying however, that I’msure she did what she thought was necessary to protect Taylor’s career andimage (aka to keep her safely closeted.)

I’m also not saying Taylor literally stopped pickingup or started ignoring her publicist, I think what the “stopped pickin’up-line” means is that perhaps she stopped listening, or at least she stoppedletting what was said get to her.

The song as she mentions was written to let “you” knowwhy it is that she stopped listening.

I don’t think“you” is the publicist, I actually think that “you” here is a more general you,as in all of the people who tried to get Taylor to understand that homophobiais just a given part of the music industry.

This is the song where Taylor says she’ll keep goingalong with their games, at least for the time being, but she’s had enough ofthe self-hatred.

As young gay people I think we’re all familiar withhow being constantly surrounded by homophobia, be it from our parents,classmates, or just society in general (or you know, a conservative musicindustry) keeps us from truly accepting ourselves.

We may very well be aware that we’re gay, but we don’thave to like it, we can wish it away and hate ourselves for feeling what we’refeeling. (Chely Wright’s Wish Me Away,anyone?)

Dear John isthe turning point for Taylor, she decides that no matter what anyone else saysand the fact that she has to stay in the closet, she can still love herself andbe okay with who she is, at least within herself. Just because she’s goingalong with the bearding and the heteronormativity doesn’t mean she has toapprove of it, she doesn’t need to hate herself just because it seems everyoneelse does. Somehow there’s strength in that heartbreak, I think.

–

Dear John, I see it all now that you’re gone.

Don’t you think I was too young

To be messed with?

–

As the chorus comes around Taylor addresses her owninternalized homophobia (who she’s apparently named John, perhaps becausesociety expects her to conform to their heteronormativity and end up with aJohn, a generic cishet boy) for the first time.

Now that her internalized homophobia/“John” is goneand she’s realized she doesn’t have hate herself she’s starting to see howfucked up it was that she ever did in the first place.

Many on thissite have discussed the fact that a pre-fame Taylor didn’t seem scared ofappearing gay, but it seems sometime after her mainstream recognition there wasa shift and she started fearing her gay side.

The heteronormative, homophobic values within theindustry truly messed with her, as she chose to word it. She went from out andproud to closeted and terrified.

She brings her age into the conversation, asking ifshe wasn’t too young to be messed with?

It seems that Taylor is as livid as me when it comesto the prospect of society teaching kids to internalize homophobia andself-hatred.

She wasn’t brought up that way (x) but she came tolearn that she was supposed to be ashamed of who she was as soon as she wastold by the people in the industry, the very people who were supposed to lookout for her that she had to sing about boys and “not act gay” if she everwanted to get on the radio or reach mainstream success.

–

The girl in the dress

Cried the whole way home, I should’ve known.–

The “girl-in-the-dress-line” is interesting to me andperhaps it is the line that resonates most with me in this entire song.

As someone who’s all too familiar with being forced toact feminine and wear dresses and being guilty of constantly policing their ownbody language as to not “act too gay” or “too un-feminine” I can say that I seemuch of myself in that person who wants to rip their pretty dress to shreds,but just ends up crying about it when no one can see instead.

Why? Well, making a public statement and refusing towear the dress would mean taking a step out from the shadow of thatinternalized self-hatred.

Admittedly though, I struggle with dysphoria which I’massuming (or rather hoping since I wouldn’t wish it on anyone) Taylor hasn’t. Despitethis I would say that being uncomfortable in dresses and “not being yourtypical princess” (to borrow a phrase from Taylor) isn’t limited to those of uswho aren’t actually girls, there are girls and women who aren’t comfortablewith being feminine or with wearing stereotypically feminine clothes (“she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts”)and I’ve previously spoken of how I suspect Taylor to be one of them. (x)

Obviously I can’t know that for sure, but I feel thatperhaps Taylor is a lot less feminine than she publicly lets on and that’swhere this dress-line comes in.

With its beer and its cowboy hats and manly men Iwould assume that in addition to being at least implicitly homophobic thecountry music scene is also fairly dependent on gender roles, meaning that forsomeone like Taylor that means dresses and boys and makeup galore.

In my analysis of NewRomantics I mentioned that attending some event with a boy she barely knewand a pretty dress must’ve felt incredibly alienating at times to a young starwho’s just started understanding the perceived necessity of bearding andheteronormativity in this industry. So alienating in fact that I wouldn’t blameher for shedding a few tears from time to time, “mascara tears in the bathroom”as well as tears on the way home in a pretty dress she didn’t want to wear.

The dress couldalso be a metaphor of course, one to describe the heteronormative role she’dbeen forced into with all the bearding and femininity. A metaphor that’s saying“the girl you made look so pretty on the outside felt so ugly and ashamed onthe inside” the girl in the pretty dress that appeared to have it all couldn’t bringherself to be truly happy. (Lucky One, anyone?)

Lastly she’s saying she should’ve known this would bethe outcome of entering the industry, she should’ve known it had been naive tothink she could continue to be her authentic self while also being mainstreamfamous.

–

Well maybe it’s me

And my blind optimism to blame

Or maybe it’s you and your sick need

To give love then take it away

–

Whose fault is it, then, that poor Taylor is somiserable?

Well, she suggests, maybe it’s her own for being sonaively optimistic and thinking that staying closeted wouldn’t feel like a bigdeal as long as she got to work with music. Or maybe it’s the industry’s faultfor adoring and praising her as long as she followed their set of rules, buttaking that love away the moment she started to break the rules, not to mentionthreatening to take the fame away entirely should she ever dare come out. It’ssick says Taylor, how two-faced these so-called “fans” and “supporters” are andI wholeheartedly agree!

–

And you’ll add my name to your long list of traitorswho don’t understand

And I’ll look back in regret how I ignored when theysaid,

“Run as fast as you can.”

–

We’ve talked about “gender traitors” before, a termthat shows up in Margaret Atwood’s TheHandmaid’s Tale from 1985 (as well as the excellent 2017 HBO series) aswell as in a bunch of feminist course lit I’m familiar with, to describe homosexualsand primarily homosexual women.

I know Taylor likes classical literature, but I can’tbe sure if she’s read that one, although I hope so since it’s brilliant!

Anyway, regardless of her reading habits I don’t thinkthe term is what Taylor’s referring to here. I think she’s simply saying theindustry will blacklist her. Put her on a list of traitors to the industry whoaren’t committed to upholding the order and the rules and doesn’t understandwhy it’s necessary to keep the environment so conservative and unaccepting.

In other words,were she to ever come out the country music community would freeze her out.This seems to be a real fear among those in the closet in Nashville and Chely Wright spoke about it at length. (x)

Someone seems to have warned Taylor not to getinvolved with the bearding and the systematic closeting. Maybe it was hermother or someone else who saw the potential dangers of internalized hatredsuch a process would create within such a young girl and thus advised Taylor torefuse to conform and run far away from that homophobic nonsense before shelost her sense of self.

Taylor of course, didn’t listen she was too busyreaching for the dream of music she’d always wanted and now that she’s olderand wiser she of course regrets letting the closeting process be the price shepaid for it all, but she was young and thought the adults who told her to goback in the closet knew what was best. Now of course, she wished she would’verun and taken steps to be an out artist from the start, instead of going usualroute of forced closeting and aggressive hetero marketing.

–

 (Chorus)

–

Dear John, I see it all now it was wrong

Don’t you think nineteen’s too young

To be played by your dark, twisted games?

When I loved you so, I should’ve known.

–

At one point in time Taylor obviously had a real andvery strong love for country music (and given the fact that she still occasionallyghost-writes a country hit or two I’d say she still does) but here she addresses“John” who now seems to be the country music industry itself and says shethinks she was too young to be dragged into the systematic homophobia thatlives rampant within that industry. She loved the music so much, she loved thepeople and the aesthetic, but the dark side of the industry in Nashville was anunfair price to pay for that love Taylor reasons. Don’t forget that Dear John was on Speak Now the album that came before Red which in turn was the first album where Taylor definitelystarted leaning more towards pop music. 

She’s said that Red wasn’t “sonically cohesive” and there seems to be a reasonfor that, Red wanted to be pop, butTaylor didn’t yet dare to fully take the leap that’d later come with 1989 and leave country behind, so Red became a mixture of Taylor’s desireto break free from country music and her very strong love for it, a toxicrelationship indeed, with the country music industry.

Nonetheless I think Dear John was Tay’s breakup song for country music, Red was the first step towards leavingthat industry behind and Dear John waswhen she first decided it was time to do so and shake off (sorry I couldn’t resist) that homophobic environment.

–

You are an expert at “Sorry”

And keeping lines blurry

Never impressed by me acing your tests

–

She laments some more about the rules and the peoplewithin the country music “machine” (as Wright refers to it) she says they’revery good at not personally being homophobic, it’s like when someone says “Ihave nothing against you gays, BUT”  the industry at large and perhaps mostlythe people within it who work close to Taylor claim that they wish things couldbe different, but that the homophobic structure in the music industry is necessaryto uphold it or whatever. They’re basically experts at making excuses for whyhomophobia is so deeply ingrained in Nashville and country communities ingeneral. They keep the lines blurry between claiming they’re keeping Taylorcloseted to protect her from the homophobia exuded by fans and parts of themusic industry and by doing it because they themselves are blatantly homophobicand scared Taylor will stop making them money if she comes out.

It’s the sortof situation where you think “Are they doing this to protect me or to protectthemselves?”    

Taylor plays her role perfectly, she has everyoneconvinced she’s as straight as they come and yet Team Taylor don’t seem happy,they have more hoops for her to jump through and more strategies with which tokeep her locked in the closet and they never seem 100% happy with Taylor’s “StraightPerformance (aka her “Acing their tests”)

–

All the girls that you’ve run dry have tired lifelesseyes

Cause you’ve burned them out

–

Then she goes on to mention other people who are inthe closet and work in country music, or in Hollywood, people (and here,specifically other women) whose closeting processes are so far along that theyhave just accepted they’ll never be able to come out and live as their trueselves. Girls who have accepted this is just their lives now.

The girls who go into lavender marriages and just dealwith it, no one being able to spot just how dead they are behind the eyes,except for a young, fellow gay who’s terrified she’ll end up like them. End uplike the women the entertainment industry  has already ran dry and ensnared in their PR gamesto the point where they see no way out, girls who are so closeted they’ll taketheir truths to their graves.

–

But I took your matches

Before fire could catch me

So don’t look now

I’m shining like fireworks

Over your sad empty town

–

It might be too late for those girls, Taylor pointsout, but not for me, not yet. By writing this song she’s taking the firsttentative step towards stopping her own closeting process. She won’t let theindustry dampen her passion for music or her will to be herself, she’s stoppedthem now, or at least she’s going to, they’re going to witness her succeed evenwhile breaking out of that tightly locked closet. She’ll shine like (colorful… 🌈🌈) fireworks over the sad reality that is homophobia and bearding.

–

(Chorus)

–

 I see it all now that you’re gone

Don’t you think I was too young

To be messed with?

The girl in the dress

Wrote you a song, you should’ve known.

–

Now that she’s decided to slowly but surely leave itbehind she can see how messed up systematic closeting is, especially when doneto someone so young and hopeful as herself.

 The girl they dressed up andfeminized, hetero-proofed™ against her will when she was still too young toknow any better wrote them all a song about how messed up they are.

They should’ve known she wasn’t like the others and wouldn’tlet herself be trapped and limited, go Taylor!! 🌈🌈🌈

–

So perhaps the way I wrotethat didn’t frame the song in so much a coming-out-narrative as an it’s-okay-to-want-to-come-out-narrativeand it’s okay to take tiny steps towards that goal while simultaneouslyflipping off everyone who want to stop you. 🌈

Hope you alllike that idea of this song. 😊

I can’t promiseanything, but I’m hopefully back now as my essay is due next Friday, whereupon Ishall have more time to hang out here and talk to you guys and do analysis regularlyagain! (Hopefully every Sunday)

I’ve really missed itas well as all of you, so if you guys have requests for songs to be analyzed inthe future or just questions for me about Kaylor, Gaylor or anything else, myaskbox is open! 😊

Next song to be analyzedaccording to my list is Fearless! 💃🌈

#gaylor swift #kaylor #songs #queer analysis #asks

[thotyssey]

On Point With: Mocha Lite

As most people who have followed NYC drag in the past decade can attest, here is one of the city’s most talented and provocative queens. Whether she’s giving you a crushing ballad or a smashing series of high energy dance moves, she is always--fascinatingly--equal parts drama and kiki. Brooklyn Pride is happy to have her this year, and Thotyssey is happy to get her for this (long overdue) minute!

Thotyssey: Miss Mocha, hello! Thanks for chatting today, how are you doing?

Mocha Lite: Hello! Doing better... very well, actually.

Glad to hear it! It’s a beautiful day, but we’re almost to the point of Unbearable Drag Weather! Will that be a bad situation for you, or is it easy to handle at this point?

Haha! It's definitely not easy--I lost an eyebrow just last night. Every summer I do my share of complaining, but I remember somehow that I survived last summer... so I power through.

[Photo: Katelyn Baron]

How long have you been a working queen in New York City?

Just under ten years, I believe.

Here is a wonderfully vague and broad question: what is the key to longevity in this business, when most queens kind of disappear after two or three years?

I can't say I know, exactly. But I'd say, first you have to want it... and want it even when it hurts. I've been through many phases, but nothing is more successful for me than focusing on my strengths. That, and I just having an inborn love for the stage. It's kind of all I know!

And few can do it better. So you are an exquisite, multiracial native Long Islander. Were dancing, performing, fashion etc. also always part of your identity?

I’ve been performing as long as I can remember: community theater and the arts are always where all my passion has gone. Drag is really a great way to do it all.

A lot of times when I see you on the stage, it really does look like you are acting out the lyrics and / or playing characters. Does your headspace go into another realm when you're performing?

Well, I guess! It's the most fun part of drag for me-- besides making people smile. Allowing myself permission to commit one hundred percent to a feeling onstage in front of a group of strangers is [intoxicating] and thrilling. So sometimes I do need to really disappear, as it were. It really does depend on the nature of the the number, really.

You and Misty Meaner have been partners on and off stage for quite some time. Was it a situation where one of you discovered drag first and the other was like, "I wanna do this too?”

Haha, absolutely not! We both had an interest in the art form--getting to see amazing queens on Fire Island is where we started to see that there is, in fact, a world that took it seriously. And we really wanted to be a part of it. We definitely began together, and grew together.

Where were some of the venues you two started performing in?

Around that time, I did a lot of going out just to be notified--as is the beginning of most drag adventures. But I had some great opportunities at The Ice Palace, with Logan Hardcore and Ariel Sinclair. Also, some great places around Long Island that aren't around anymore, before I moved to Brooklyn.

You and Misty were basically there in Brooklyn from the beginning. What was going on in that scene when you two first started doing shows there?

Not a whole lot, to be honest. I was working mostly in Hell’s Kitchen when I first came out here. Sugarland and Metropolitan were the the most popular watering holes at the time... but Sugarland is where I really got to watch the beginnings of the crazy scene we know today.

The drag landscape that came out of ther was a little less polished then what was happening in Manhattan, a lot more “anything goes” and art-driven. Did you find yourself more comfortable in Brooklyn than in the more Broadway-influenced HK scene?

Nope, I'm comfortable anywhere there's a stage. I mean, there are some obvious differences between the drag of Brooklyn and Manhattan, but there are even bigger differences between me and some of my fellow BK girls. We are all different! That's only one of the coolest things about drag.

“Misty and Mocha” were basically the only drag couple in the city for a while, and that was considered really odd and novel to a lot of people at the time. But since then, drag couples have become much more common. Wouldn't it seem obvious that the best person to understand what it’s like to live a drag queen life is another drag queen?

To me, that does seem obvious. And I would say it's definitely a plus, having someone who gets how hard it can be. We've been together for a long time, and like any relationship issues exist. Drag has never been one of them.

Misty has a drag child now, Sassy Frass Meaner! And Princess Bitch can be considered your own drag daughter. What's the best way to be a drag parent? Princess is of my coven, a sister witch--also Lilith LeFae, and Catrina Lovelace. The idea of drag parenting is daunting to me; that kind of pressure makes me nervous. I would say guidance is definitely golden with drag, though. I've had a lot of very incredible queens teach me some really incredible things. The best way to be a drag parent, I'd say, is just to be friends, really--share information, and do your best to help each other.

Besides Lovegun, TNT was another major hub of BK nighltife where you had shows that has since closed. Do you miss those two spots, or is it more like "that's the past, time to move on?"

Any queer space shutting down will always make me sad, and I'll miss them both. TNT was definitely a very special place for me, and many others, I loved that place, and kicked ass on that stage for a few years.

And then there was Boots & Saddle. You and Misty had a long-running show there, then parted with the venue on bad terms, but ultimately mended fences with the owner. You even resumed doing a show there for those last few months before Boots abruptly closed. Would you go back there to do a gig when the place reopens under a new name and management, if that opportunity presents itself?

Sure, why not--if they'd want us! Although a lot of people lost jobs when they closed. I'd have no problem getting in the back of the line, so to speak.

Y'all are very busy now with gigs as it is. On Tuesdays and Fridays you give shows at Macri Park in Brooklyn. Do you usually have the same crowds on both nights, or are they two very different cultures?

The shows differ in style, and structure. Like you said earlier, Sassy Frass Meaner is Misty's daughter, so she is very often with us [on Tuesdays, along with] the incredible Devo Monique. But I love meeting new queens, and having them at either show.

Queerpong at Phoenix on Thursdays is your longest running gig now.

Yes Queerpong has been with us for five drunken years--it's amazing, I can barely believe it! We started the party because where we are from on Long Island, beer pong is a standard--but often hetero-dominated--[game]. So we just wanted a very gay twist on the whole vibe, and it's been so great. 

 And have you and Misty ever played against each other?

Many times. She often wins, she's really good!

This season, you're also hosting a RuPaul’s Drag Race viewing party right before Queerpong. So... I guess Eureka's gonna win this thing, right?

Maybe! She's pretty hardcore. I'm definitely a fan of hers.

Regarding this whole “Azealia Banks versus RuPaul, versus Monet, versus all Drag Race, versus all gays” business: should we be purging Azealia from our music libraries even though ”Anna Wintour” is such a bop?

I mean, who knows? If you want to go that far, that's fine I guess. Think of it this way: I'm not sure we'd love a lot of artists the way we do today if social media were even a decade older than it is. We have, in ways, lost track of how to pick battles. 

That being said, I perform a lot of Banks. I expect to hear things from people, but I don't really care. I perform Biggie Smalls too, but they throw dollars at his sexist and violent lyrics, and at me, for years (to clarify, I'm not comparing their work).  I'm just saying, beloved artists sometimes say and do wild things. It's up to you to discern what's really worth your time.

On a Lite-r note (gag), you and Misty recently started hosting a Saturday night party at the Boiler Room in the East Village. You're probably the first queens to do a show in that neighborhood bar in, well, maybe ever? How's that going?

It's fun! The staff is so nice. But it's still the beginning, and we're just getting to know the crowd... but so far I love it!

And this is cool: you will be performing as a solo act for the Brooklyn Ball  at Littlefield on Brooklyn Pride Saturday, June 9th! It has a cute theme: the “strawberry social” from To Wong Foo. How do you think that's gonna go?

I had a rehearsal today, and I'm getting things here and there together. I'm feeling confident it's going to be really fun!

Congratulations on you and Misty being nominated again for Nightlife Legend Hall of Fame at the Brooklyn Nightlife Awards! This has gotta be your year, right?

Yes! Fingers crossed! Thank you very, very much. It's exciting to be nominated, and I'm even more excited to pick out what to wear!  It's going to be a crazy weekend.

What else is on the horizon for you?

Well our Pride party at The Boiler Room is coming up! All my events this month are gonna be great--I mean, it's PRIDE!

Happy Pride! Okay, last question: since you and Misty have basically done them all (well, probably not Christina and Demi's “Fall In Line” yet, but will anyone?)... what is the best drag duet lip sync number to do?

I’d have to say in the spirit of Pride, “Happy Days / Get Happy” by Barbra Streisand and Judy Garland. It's a perfect syncopation of positively-motivated, pleasant sounds, arranged in a way that is fun to learn and perform and guaranteed to please!

My troubles are forgotten! Thanks, Mocha!

Mocha Lite co-hosts shows with Misty Meaner at Macri Park (Tuesdays and Fridays, 11pm), Phoenix Bar (Thursdays, 10pm) and the Boiler Room (Saturdays, midnight). Check Thotyssey’s calendar for Mocha’s full schedule of upcoming gigs, and follow her on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

On Point Archives

#onpointwith #mochalite

[fireflythecinnamonjollyrancher]

hello it is once again time for my end of the year wrap up. this should be... interesting

january

finally finally got to have a happy apartment experience!!!!! tried out tea drops which are dope. there was a fair amount of stress revolving around APO induction and the musical rehearsal, but we made it!!! partied hardy (the infamous tess in the washing machine incident) kelli was watching always sunny more often than not. i wore some arguably bad clothing but ya know. gays. we tried to take off my closet door (it did NOT work). the beginning of the goose saga! there was a sleet storm so kelli and i made some popcorn and watched mike birbiglia’s new special. darci, kelli and i went out to eat and then ended up in babcock playing air hockey before watching videos with kai who was on duty. PEP BAND???? some good memories formed there. dogs in the library! got bullied by my library boss to put gas in my car and i sent her a video of proof that i did it “daddy long legs” “stop. what?” “the musical” (i do love timothy) i actually practiced my instrument lol wild. WE (becky, celeste, timothy and i) WATCHED SPIRIT and got wildly drunk -- the origin of “[redacted] [redacted] who???” which is my favorite joke.

february

MORE PEP BAND im actually really glad i spent my last few college months dicking around with the band. one man drumline!!! kai made some good tiktoks in our apartment! miss hanging with them it was really fun. oh i hung out with sam and celeste watching movies “he was a boy, she was a dolphin, can i make it anymore [strangled dolphin noises]” OUR MICROWAVE HANDLE BROKE OFF while kelli was gone man that entire apartment was falling apart (hey dumbass grab from top) -- a list of things that were broken in our apartment: fridge light, front entry light, showerhead, phone. the birth of the beans insta!!!! got hit on when i was at taco bell with timothy by being accused of being trans (taco bell guy was not far off to be fair). oh the improv posters as compared to the posters i built for an organization fair. went out and got daRUNK at what appears to be wandas. really struggled with my period. cut hair with kelli n darci. MOZZ STICKS. “you still a lil bitch???” oh we did kpy pal-entines!!! where we ate good food and watched the princess bride!!! i received the plush goose. there was a possible bombing at the bank next door to where we rehearsed for band. aw i went on a tommy’s date with becky that was cute. they tried to STEAL the QUESO. disagreed with a curb and still have those scars. worked a horrible gig at the theatre. closing shifts at the library baby! middle school tours EW more library dogs! fish hooks song oh my god. drunk mash nights!!! i rewatched HAVEN and had lots of feelings. actually got drunk alone a lot which was Bad. however michael malloys birthday! watched choir concert at work lol. stats final whilst drunk!!!! becky got a piercing

march

here things go downhill rapidly. hit up the trains at least once. oh late library nights with timothy!!!! the best nights i miss hanging with him while at work. struggled with my car. went on a college sponsored adventure to a back alley farm. SCURVY FEARS. opening shifts that were lonely. oh celeste played plague and named it covid and won lol yikes. the infamous apartment cone. we stayed up long enough to see the sunrise on literally the last day in college I would ever have. that was good. I FOUND OUT KELLI HAD GLASSES im still pissed. came home indefinitely. went to st patty’s day at brookes with karrigan and that was SO much fun (this was before things seemed real) the best part of that was the irish pub owner who happened to have a son that went to my college. got my mom onto tik tok. took a gay lit class. can’t believe i took daily fckn walks around the pasture who was i. hosted virtual meetings for apo and played around with the closed captioning. that was fun. shaved my moms head lmaooo. worked on my capstone which im like super proud of? i wish i could have directed it but say law vee. 

april

BAGPIPE CORPS INTERNATIONAL. virtual band wreaked havoc on my animals mental health. my grandmother would always bug me while i was working which i understand now was misplaced love but it was so irritating at the time. we had library meetings once a week or so that was vital to mental health. hosted a really fun “panel” about queer identity for my queer lit class that was able to educate a lot of people. having a capstone class with am*lia was a nightmare. watched a cirque du soleil show for free and lost my mind. wrote a comedic monologue that i suffered through. suffered through papers and projects. worked on a project with celeste and kelli and we had SUCH a good time. i hosted several jackbox nights for both apo and kpy. that was SUCH an exhausting experience. also uno and drawful with the uno group (kelli would win 100% of the time). ranted about group projects lol i struggled. OH THE MOVE OUT DEBACLE i really went off the deep end. kelli’s virtual birthday!!!!

may

we had so many good jackbox nights. academic showcase and honors convocation happened wherein i was name bronco award winner and that really wrecked me too lol. we had a sunday crew hang out for library workers. clarinet game night too! i tried so hard to build community during covid and im not altogether sure i accomplished it but ya know whatever. watsky broke the record! made my “aced it” grad cap which was so FUNNY and still is tbh. becky taught me how to do makeup. took grad pictures at an abandoned farmhouse lol OH MY GOSH BEAUX ARTS AND APO SKIT i was so proud of that night and annette said it was the best one we’d ever had. wish i had done more but we did it boys. also got VERY drunk for it lol completely redid my room. bc it was NASTY. the way i write papers is so SO funny to me. had our last capstones class and then dressed in grad outfits for our last lit meeting . graduated and got all my stuff from college finally. went shopping with timothy, had el puerto with becky (i think?). oh the infamous miller moths UGH shit is nasty. THE FORMING OF BANJO SHRIMPS occurred on may 24 2020 and that was the absolute best thing to come out of this year. started working at my dads agency which was the absolute worst thing to come out of this year. attended my first protest in cos which was good and healthy. started protesting regularly after that. my most poignant memory was laying down in front of city hall and chanting “i cant breathe” for 8 minutes. 

june

it snowed???? i was angry. part of my job was reading my dad’s email and there was some WACKO shit in there. went to brookes for pride as a surprise which was cute n fun. had a horrible interaction with a client. the appearance of the bigfoot statue!!!! we had a vanilla beans hang out. there was a WILD storm that literally made my hide out in the office. 

july

went on a bonkers rant about america bc fuck this place. helped mom out with homework. we had several clients get divorces which was messy. went to a Bad party where i was angry the whole time. went to the top of pikes peak with my grandma and saw many much bigfoot things. we got a GOOSE he hated us so much. oh there was a night where darci and kai came over and we hijacked kelli’s spotify and communicated that way it was SO funny. took a video of the dichotomy of man bc of my long ass leg hair and short ass head hair. shaved my head to the BONE and tried dragon fruit. GOT NIKO ON JULY 24 my sweet sweet boy lil bat looking motherfucker. got denied for life insurance for mental health reasons. 

august

went back to hc for a birthday “party” and to see the band. did a lot in that weekend (stayed with timothy’s family, helped becky move, met kelli’s look-alike, saw timothy and karlie’s new house!!! had lunch with kellis family which is closest to “meet my parents” i think i’ll ever get lmao). got my prof headshots and hate every single one of them but more for self esteem reasons lol. neighbors got goats and my mom lost her marbles. got trapped in traffic on the way back from hc. niko had crackhead energy. oooooooh documented gender crisis. ma got more chickens. went to a birthday party for a high school friend and was just... so out of my element. its weird. took off my grandma’s bathroom door bc she had knee surgery. started a full time job as my grandmother’s caretaker (love working for the family business lol).

september

went to breckenridge with a friend!!!!!! spicy times lol. cleaned the cupboard. had a birf. turned 22. cas finished her drugs!!!! and felt much better. we did a charcuterie board for my birthday which was very fun. Got a mixer set!!! went to hc for homecoming and graduated!!!!! surprised celeste and hannah with a celebration party for them (it was a lot of fun). came up with my BEST joke (summa cum laude). got called tf out for my gender crisis via tarot. got the goose game!!!! played the goose game!!!!

october

applied to chicago center!!!! will now be working there for a year!!!! this was the first documentation of banjo shrimp nights. surprised my dad for boss day by working with the team to fill his office with balloons. house sat for dad’s friends. started taking showers in the dark. went to celestes and made PASTA wow got very drunk and while she slept i just explored a strangers house. voted!!!!! wow. finally (finally) started to accept that i was maybe agender. had a snow day but i couldn’t work so that was fun. had halloween with banjo shrimps where i dressed up as david rose. that was SUCH a good night. participated in ace week!!! then, dressed as radar for actual halloween and had monumental. worked a volunteer haunted house and like... actually did pretty good?? felt like a real adult!!!!

november

so many things happened in november. i finished miraculous ladybug on netflix. had another bad interaction with a client bc the customer is always wrong. shaved my head. PRESENTATION NIGHT to distract from the election lmao what a good time. had so many emotions about the election. then biden won and we lost our damn minds -- video called with celeste and becky to celebrate (with the reminder that we know that this doesn’t solve everything but it was such a huge sigh of relief). started watching the last kids on earth. made more PASTA and soup! got my GHOSTY TATTOO. kahoot night with the banjo shrimps lol. watched the supernatural finale with kelli (what good memories) rewatched 3below good shit. got the chicago job so i quit being an insurance person!!!! brooke came for thanksgiving!!!

december

i dont wanna talk about it but i finally started watching unus annus (theres an archive its not the same but it provided me wild amounts of serotonin). “call that invisible split dye”. crimmus. had a video call with people from high school i rarely if ever see. this entire month has been a fuckin blur my guys but i’m so excited for what’s next. in two days i will be in an apartment in chicago. i will be reunited with my best friend in a little under two weeks. i cannot emphasize enough how excited i am for this next chapter. so yeah. that was my year. im sure there was more memories but that’s what the sideblog is for lol

#firefly talks #yearly wrap up

[thelemoncollection]

Today is the 28th of April, but it's nearly 30 minutes past midnight. So the day was Monday the 27th, and I'm realizing I last wrote about a week ago? Feels like a month.

211,663 people have died from the virus. We're still quarantined but there's talk of opening up the economy in the next few weeks. Lots of businesses will be opened by May. So many more deaths to come. And sooner at that, given the politics of it all. This blood is on Trump's and the GOP's hands. Emma described it today as global trauma.

I find myself struggling to articulate well lately. I notice it best when I'm on video chat with Syd, or trying to explain something I learned about vet med to Mik. I find myself grasping for vocabulary and getting lost mid sentence. Like I'm drunk but there's no buzz. Like I'm tired, but all I do is sleep. I spent the night yesterday with Mik and I woke up spooning her tightly. The feeling of her soft hips at my fingers, or when she rolls over, the stiff fringe of her bangs brushing against my lips, her breath on my neck. I could die there. It's been hot outside lately, she voiced that she remembers how shitty it is when the summer gets warm. Dewy sunshine is priceless, but the heat of the night... I understand why people "cuff" in the wintertime. Last summer I slept with a lot of women, and honestly the heat was a lovely excuse to get naked. So maybe it wont be that bad. But nothing beats snuggling up to Mik on a cold night, to lap at the warmth of her, or to share my heat against her pale porcelain skin like a bird nesting against the cool surface of her egg. Here I am rambling on again. I'm quite tired tonight. I started my period this morning, an hour after waking up with cramps. I put on my jeans to leave Mik's place and felt myself get wet with blood again the seamline. She leant me a pair of sweatpants and brought me my backpack. She gave me coffee and kissed me with a caffeinated tongue. She tastes so good even in the morning. The night before, Sunday night, we made love. I'd been thirsting hard for her the past few days, feeling like a goddamn cat in heat. I told her a few days prior to Sunday how much I wanted sex, but I was tired that day. She was tired that day. She attributed it to work being stressful. Which I have no doubt it is. But frequent headaches... work stress.... school stress. For some reason, even though I now know we had sex on th 15th, which was a little over a week from when we had sex again... it felt like forever? All I do is talk about sex on here. But how can a girl who has the privilege to date a girl that sexy not think about sex all the time.... shit, I find myself staring at her lips and wishing I could suffocate on them. She's so fucking beautiful I can't stand it sometimes. I just collapse into myself. Here i am yowling again like an intact alleycat. I can't help myself. She makes me so wet just looking at her. Last night she let me go down on her and she rode my face hard. To feel her deep on my finger while her lips rock against mine, is ecstasy. Hearing her moan as she get close to climax nearly makes me cum from just listening. She likes using the big blue cock, she suggested to fuck me from behind. I ask her if it turns her on, but she gave me an answer like "it's really fun" and that wasn't convincing enough for me. I'd rather do her sitting up and watch her make faces while she watches me ride her. Gives me better assurance that she's having a good time. I was nervous about having sex since my foul remark I made last time, in the shower. Nervous she'd be scared of me. Or hesitate. I made sure to love on her long enough before asking to go down on her last night. I hope it helped. When I asked if she was ok with me making my way south she gave an enthusiastic yes so that's a good thing. The day or so before hand when we were talking about sex, we shared a long discussion about initiation and consent. I shared my concerns about getting confident consent from her while still being the pursuer. She always hears me so well. Such an excellent listener. I love when she tells me she loves me first. I love making her laugh. I just want to give her endless pleasure. I drink it in like I'd been deprived of her laugh my whole life. So thirsty for her joy and satisfaction.

Syd says she's gonna beak up with Susan. She's been saying it for nearly 2 weeks now, though, and I don't believe her. I want her to see that she deserves so much better. It's a goddamn gift to be gay. A fucking privilege to know the love for women. I want her to feel the pride, the bliss, the power, the strength to love yourself enough to ask for more as a gay woman. To ask for outness, to demand respect. The "big dyke energy" hah. But sincerely.

I wish we weren't on quarantine and that life could go back to normal soon. I miss parading Mikayla around on the crook of my elbow, downtown. I'm gonna take her to buy Mary's mountain cookies when this is over. We'll eat them in the square. People will be drinking and walking around without masks. I'll take her hand and kiss the back of it hard. I'll wear a nice outfit and we'll be each other's arm candy.

I'm mourning the loss of this June's pride. You bet your ass I'm gonna craft so much rainbow shit this summer. Read all the queer literature, watch all the gay films. Maybe I'll put something together for the vet gays.

I stayed at my place tonight, Emma and I ordered Chinese and watched a cute little documentary about an old gay couple that run a dog rescue in South Carolina. We always have such a great time hanging out together, I need to remember to do it more often. I'm really glad I asked the day prior. We talk about art and sex and rechargeable vibrators, and Greek mythology. I lent her new batteries for her poor little lavender vibe she calls... Bumpy Betty? Something like that. She let me her copy of the Blue is the Warmest Color comic. I read half of it tonight after she went to bed. I grew nostalgic for baby gay love. The giddiness of fresh queerdom! So scary but SO extraordinary. And exciting. Now I'm thinking of Rangely again. I sometimes forget that I've taken 5 (is it 5?) lovers since her. She changed my life. I hope she's well. Im always fighting the urge to contact her.

5 isn't even that many. I try to count again. Evan, Jes, Lee, Alyssa (I often forget Alyssa's name and feel guilty for it. She really liked me. It was hard to break things off with her.) Mikayla makes five. I'm grateful for my escapades honestly. I got a better understanding for what I wanted in a lover. Clearly had to subtract men from the picture first haha. But holy shit. I feel really lucky to have found Mik when she was also looking. We might have never met if her friend didn't buy her Tinder Premium. She wouldn't have seen that I swiped right on her. I wouldn't have been able to message her. We would have never known the other lived here. So close, but in totally different worlds. It feels amazing that we seem to fit so well into each other's lives. I think she feels it too. I want to bring her home to my family. I want her to spend more time with my brother. I want her to meet my mom in person. I have so much to look forward to even though it's fucking terrifying. But I want Mik close to me, and I want to make a life with her. The prospect of that is electric in my blood.

[weekegg2-blog]

A ‘freaking fag revolutionary’ remembers the early years of gay liberation in Chicago

When the annual Pride Parade steps off from the intersection of Broadway and Montrose at noon on Sunday, June 30—with Lori Lightfoot, Chicago's first openly gay mayor, serving as honorary grand marshal—it will represent a very different mind-set from the event that launched the pride parade tradition. This year's parade is expected to draw more than a million participants and onlookers to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Rebellion of June 28 and 29, 1969. Thus the theme Stonewall 50: Millions of Moments of Pride.

I was a teenaged member of Chicago Gay Liberation, the loose-knit, short-lived group that organized the first pride parade on Saturday, June 27, 1970. Most of our group thought of ourselves, proudly if irreverently, as members of the "freaking fag revolution"—to borrow the phrase used by Thomas Aquinas Foran, the U.S. attorney who had prosecuted the so-called "Chicago Seven" anti-war activists charged with conspiracy and incitement to riot as a result of their protests at the 1968 Democratic National Convention.

The first parade wasn't even a parade. It was a march, which meant we were allowed to walk on the sidewalks but not in the streets. There were no floats, no cars, no politicians, no crowds, no corporate sponsors pitching their brands to onlookers. The last thing on our minds was the possibility of any mayor, let alone an openly gay one, leading the way; we were happy the city's then-mayor, "Boss" Richard J. Daley, didn't set his cops on us.

The day began at noon with a rally in Washington Square Park across the street from the Newberry Library—known as "Bughouse Square" because of its storied history as a free-speech forum. From there we walked to the historic Water Tower at the intersection of Michigan and Chicago Avenues. Then, instead of dispersing as we had originally planned, we impulsively headed south on Michigan into the Loop, chanting "Out of the closets and into the streets!" as we wended our way through throngs of Mag Mile shoppers. The march ended with another rally in Civic Center Plaza (now Daley Plaza), where the event culminated in a joyous circle dance around the Picasso statue.

Between 150 and 300 people (depending on which account you read) showed up to celebrate what our flyer promoting the event declared (in all capital letters) was: "THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF GAY PEOPLE TELLING THE WARPED, SICK, MALADJUSTED, PURITAN AMERIKAN SOCIETY THAT THEY HAVE HAD ENOUGH SHIT."

That flyer is on display as part of "Out of the Closets & Into the Streets: Power, Pride & Resistance in Chicago's Gay Liberation Movement," a new exhibit at Gerber/Hart Library and Archives, the midwest's largest LGBTQ library and research center. Conceived by the library's director, Wil Brant, and curated by a team of young volunteers including professional librarians Chase Ollis and James Conley and designer Kurt Conley, the display is drawn from Gerber/Hart's extensive archival collection.

The march marked the first anniversary of a riot in New York City on June 28, 1969, when patrons of the Stonewall Inn, a gay nightclub in Greenwich Village owned by the Genovese crime family, reacted violently to what had begun as a routine police raid. That event, and the events leading up to and following it, are well covered in a new book, The Stonewall Riots: A Documentary History by Marc Stein (NYU Press).

But that first Stonewall anniversary march wasn't the first activity of Chicago Gay Liberation, which started up in fall 1970 after University of Chicago grad student Henry Wiemhoff placed an ad in the Chicago Maroon student newspaper seeking a gay roommate. Not only did he get a roommate—a female taxicab driver named Michal Brody—he got a discussion group. We met in Wiemhoff and Brody's Hyde Park apartment and then, as our numbers grew, began to gather at the Blue Gargoyle, a community center and coffeehouse in the multicultural, nondenominational University Church on the University of Chicago campus.

Talking soon led to action. The first public Gay Lib event I participated in was a protest four months before the Stonewall march, on the snowy afternoon of Wednesday, February 25, 1970, outside the Loop headquarters of the Women's Bar Association of Illinois. The group was hosting a program on "Youthful Offenders" with a Chicago police officer, Sergeant John Manley, as guest speaker. But for us, the offender was Manley himself. The blond, muscular cop was notorious for entrapping gay men in Lincoln Park restrooms; wearing street clothes, he would pretend to solicit guys for sex and then arrest them if they responded to his invitation. Mattachine Midwest, an established "homophile" organization in town, published Manley's picture in its mimeographed monthly newsletter and mockingly suggested Manley himself was a closet case: "If I were gay and I didn't want anybody to know, and I felt very, very guilty, I think I might get a job where I could cruise in the public interest," wrote David Stienecker, the newsletter's editor. On February 7, 1970, Manley made an early morning appearance at Stienecker's third-floor apartment to arrest him for criminal defamation.

"After I unsuccessfully attempted to make a phone call, Manley called for a police van and I was escorted from my apartment in handcuffs," Stienecker now recalls. "Upon arriving at the precinct house, Manley suggested that if I just pleaded guilty the judge would only give me a slap on the wrist." But Stienecker, represented by the diligent and fierce lesbian attorney Renee Hanover, fought the charges. After several court appearances, most of which Manley missed, the case was thrown out of court, but Stienecker lost his job as an editor at World Book Encyclopedia due to the ensuing publicity—there then being no legal protection against employment discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation.

Manley later rose to the rank of captain in the police force, but his career crashed and burned in the mid-1990s when he was fired for sexually harassing female officers under his supervision. Some 20 years later, his name popped up in the news again when he was ticketed for, of all things, impersonating a government official after he posed as a U.S. Maritime Service "special agent" to avoid a parking ticket. Stienecker, who went on to a successful career writing educational books for children, is credited as a program supporter of Gerber/Hart's "Out of the Closets" exhibit.

In March 1970, we responded to the release of The Boys in the Band, the film version of the 1968 off-Broadway stage hit. Our aim was not to boycott the movie—which used waspish humor to illustrate the pathological, self-hating behavior of a group of gay New York men—but to use it as a teaching opportunity. We handed out flyers on the street outside the Carnegie Theatre on Rush Street (where Gibsons Bar & Steakhouse is now), which read in part: "The pain and cruelty typified by The Boys in the Band should be understood as the expression of human lives damaged by an environment of condemnation, suspicion, job discrimination, and legal harrassment [sic]."

Gay Liberation also organized dances, which drew large crowds from around the city. Though same-sex dancing wasn't illegal, it was forbidden in the mob-owned gay bars in Boss Daley's Chicago, where periodic police raids were a given. The first two Gay Lib dances were held in the protected environs of the University of Chicago campus. (It inspired other LGBTQ student groups to hold their own dances at the University of Illinois at Chicago Circle—now UIC—and Northwestern University. At the latter, music was provided by the Siegel-Schwall Band, then one of Chicago's hottest blues-rock bands. )

When the U. of C. demanded that CGL move its dances off campus because the crowds were getting too big, we booked the Coliseum, located on South Wabash between 14th and 16th Streets, a huge venue that had hosted several Republican presidential conventions, sports events, rock concerts, and, a few weeks previously, a congress of Black Muslims. As historian Timothy Stewart-Winter, author of Queer Clout: Chicago and the Rise of Gay Politics (University of Pennsylvania Press), recounts in a Slate article titled "Beyond Stonewall: How Gay History Looks Different From Chicago":

"[T]here was a problem: The venue required an insurance policy, and every insurance agent the organizers approached said the risk was too great that the police would raid the dance, cart the attendees off to jail, and levy fines. Only on the day before the dance did the activists find a broker who'd sell them a policy—a black man whose company had insured the Nation of Islam's annual convention at the same venue."

About 2,000 people showed up at the Coliseum to dance for liberation on April 18, 1970. So did the police. But when the cops entered the hall and came face to face with a phalanx of attorneys—including the formidable Renee Hanover—primed to document any civil liberties violations, they shrugged and went away.

The Gerber/Hart exhibit includes copies of the mimeographed newsletters that Gay Lib used to spread its message in those long-ago pre-Internet days. Also on display is a copy of the Chicago Seed, the city's hippie/radical underground paper, which published an eight-page Gay Liberation supplement in one issue. There's also a well-deserved tribute to the late Frank Robinson, who gave Chicago's LGBTQ community the first professional- quality publications we could call our own. Robinson was a closeted middle-aged editor for Playboy magazine; unable to come out for our demonstrations, he devoted himself to behind-the-scenes messaging. After publishing a one time "Gay Pride" paper to promote the 1971 Pride Parade (which by then had been relocated to the Lincoln Park/Lakeview area on the north side), Robinson put out two editions of The Paper, a 1972 tabloid that covered local LGBTQ arts and politics. The Paper ran interviews with local counterculture celebrities such as painter Ed Paschke, lesbian singer-songwriter Linda Shear, female impersonators Roby Landers and Wanda Lust, and stage director Gary Tucker, aka "Eleven," whose gender-bending Godzilla Rainbow Troupe was then running its hit production of Charles Ludlam and Bill Vehr's outrageous Turds in Hell. A copy of The Paper on display at Gerber/Hart shows a photo from another landmark of Chicago's fledgling off-Loop theater movement, the Organic Theater's sci-fi epic Warp!, featuring André De Shields (who just won a Tony for his performance in the Broadway hit Hadestown) as Xander the Unconquerable. In 1973, Robinson had relocated to San Francisco, where he became the speechwriter for a camera store owner and activist with aspirations to a political career—Harvey Milk. But by then the city had its first (more or less) regularly published newspaper, the Chicago Gay Crusader, edited by activist Michael Bergeron with copy editing supervision by his lover Bill Kelley.

The success of the June 1970 Stonewall anniversary march (no one got arrested!) encouraged members of Gay Liberation to start developing a larger agenda. Inevitably, there were conflicts. Some wanted to merge Gay Lib into a broader leftist coalition; others preferred to keep the focus on LGBTQ issues. GL's women's and Black caucuses went off in their own directions; the Black caucus turned into Third World Gay Revolutionaries, led by Ortez Alderson, who went to prison for destroying draft records in downstate Pontiac. And in September 1970, as reported in a CGL newsletter displayed in the Gerber/Hart exhibit, "Tensions that had been brewing for some weeks finally came to a head . . . with the result that the group suffered a schism and a large number of members announced they were forming a new group—not a new caucus—to be called 'The Chicago Gay Alliance.' . . . Though there . . . were moments of acrimony, the parting was amicable. . . . All present expressed a desire to avoid the infighting of competitive groups in other cities"—a reference to the internecine turf wars that tore at the fabric of New York's gay community around the same time.

The debut issue of the CGA newsletter in November 1970 explained: "The Chicago Gay Alliance is actively interested in alleviating the ghetto (whether spiritual or physical) conditions of homosexuals, in dispelling the psychological and sociological mythology that has grown up about the subject of homosexuality, in providing referral services to homosexuals, in helping homosexuals 'coming out' develop a sense of pride in who they are and courage in facing the generally hostile outside world, to provide additional social outlets so that homosexuals can meet each other as human beings, to change repressive laws and end police and political harassment, and to improve communications between the homosexual and the heterosexual communities."

In 1971 CGA gave Chicago its first LGBTQ community center, a ramshackle red-brick two-story rented house on an Old Town side street at 171 W. Elm. By 1973 the center had closed for lack of financial support, and CGA ceased operations. But the activism continued. A July 1973 issue of the Chicago Gay Crusader reported that 20th Ward alderman Cliff Kelley, working with a group called Illinois Gays for Legislative Action, had introduced legislation in the Chicago City Council to prohibit discrimination in jobs, housing, and public accommodations based on sexual orientation. It took 15 years for the City Council to finally vote an LGBTQ-inclusive Chicago Human Rights Ordinance into law on December 21, 1988.

The Old Town community center paved the way for today's gleaming Center on Halsted. The Gay Crusader was succeeded by the weekly newspaper GayLife, founded in 1975 by the late Grant Ford, and then by Windy City Times, cofounded in 1985 by Tracy Baim, now publisher of the Reader, and still publishing in print and online 34 years later. (I served as editor of both GayLife and WCT in the '80s.)

The Gerber/Hart exhibit's narrative arc climaxes with a major event from 1977, chronicled in an issue of GayLife on display. On June 14 of that year, singer, orange-juice industry spokeswoman, and former Miss America Anita Bryant arrived in Chicago for a concert at the historic Medinah Temple at Wabash and Ohio (it's now a Bloomingdale's home furniture store). The concert had been booked before Bryant achieved national notoriety as leader of an anti-LGBTQ initiative in Dade County, Florida. LGBTQ activists, including me, picketed the Bryant concert in Chicago, despite being cautioned by gay establishment leaders that our action would be an embarrassing failure. By then, it was thought, the activist energy of the early 1970s had waned, and the only time queers turned out en masse was for the Pride Parade. But a spontaneous, unexpected turnout of 3,000 to 5,000 (depending on whom you ask) proved the naysayers wrong.

Chicago Gay Liberation, the Chicago Gay Alliance, and the other groups that sprang up in the wake of Stonewall ran out of steam by the end of the decade, but the sense of empowerment they gave the community—and the lessons we learned from their successes and setbacks—guided us into the 1980s, when the AIDS epidemic and the struggle for civil rights at the city, county, and state level drove a new activist spirit. "The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long," notes Gerber/Hart's James Conley. "As transformative as those groups were, they were temporary. But the impact they had in their short span of existence was monumental and lasting."   v

Special thanks to Amber Lewis at Columbia College Chicago

Correction: This article has been revised to reflect that the Siegel-Schwall Band played at a dance held on the campus of Northwestern University, not that of the University of Chicago.

Source: https://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/gerber-hart-gay-pride-history/Content?oid=70924510

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

[i-like-your-genitalia]

I want to know as much as I can about you, could you please answer all of the questions from the pride month questionnaire?

1. what is your sexuality?

I identity as bisexual at the moment ♥️

2. what do you identify as?

I identify as female (my designated/biological gender)

3. how long have you been aware of your sexuality/identity?

I realised, or identified myself as bisexual when I was 15, so that 3-4 years ago!

4. do you have any preferences?

I would say generally I go for guys, but it changes all the time sometimes I feel more attracted to women and other times to men. I would say on average 60% to men 40% to women.

5. share a positive memory about coming out!

I think all my friends were just chill, one of my good friends came out as bisexual and then transgender. And I’m not sure if they still identify as bi or if they identify as gay. But that was kinda the first of my friends to come out, and it wasn’t a big deal. So when others in the group came out. It was kinda just “oh cool, join the club!”

6. how do you feel about pride month?

It’s awesome, I think having a month where sexuality’s and identities can celebrated in the open and appreciated in awesome! For so long those in the LGBT++ community have been taught to ashamed of who they are. And having a month were it’s celebrated is fantastic!

7. do you participate in pride related events? any other events?

Unfortunately no, I’m not out with a lot of family, my sister and a few cousins know. But it’s not something I want to risk at the moment! So I as much I want to involve myself in pride. I can’t at the moment

8. how do you feel about lgbtqa roles in media?

We need more, it’s amazing how far we have come, but it would be awesome to see more and a bigger variety. And I think accurately depicted by the media as well!

9. do you feel pride in who you are?

Yes, it’s amazing to feel comfortable and have a support group who can help you through some of the crisis of coming out, or changing your identity or sexuality!

10. who has been your supportive idols in your self discovery?

Not gonna lie, when I first came out I had no idols. Just my friends in real life and on tumblr. There have been a couple of people who’ve helped by reblogging or posting informative writing and learning now to help with coming out and such. But I don’t have anyone specific

11. tell us about your first crush?

Girl Crush or Boy crush???

My first guy crush that I remember was in year 10, and he was the one where you stare from afar. I had an art class with him and I sat facing him and his friends. And it was awkward because everyone knew I liked him but I didn’t like speaking to him or interacting with him.

My first girl crush was on a friend I had, she was one of the first girls I was aware I was attracted too! But she was straight so there was no desire to take things further than a crush and it faded after a while! So I went from being friends….crush……back to being friends! And they wasn’t any romantic feelings lingering!

12. what sort of advice to have you lgbtqa teens?

Don’t be afraid to change your mind, labels aren’t everything! Yes they’ve helped with explaining who you are, but don’t feel obligated to stick to it. Just because at 16 you feel as tho you identify as bisexual or lesbian or gay, doesn’t mean that at 27 you’ll identify the same.

Also with coming out, especially during pride month! There is a huge pressure to come out, don’t ever feel like you “need” to come out. Especially if you are in a household that could potentially become unsafe if you did!

13. have you come out to friends and family?

I came out to my sister, and a few cousins. And the majority or my friends know I’m bisexual! So I’m not necessarily closeted, but I don’t put it out for every single person to know!

14. how do you feel about the term “coming out” ?

I have no feelings about it really, it’s a convenient saying for finding the ideal sexuality, or identity for yourself. I know some feel negatively towards the saying. But for me it’s a simple, well know phrase that is easy to use when talking about my bisexuality and discovery.

15. do you believe there is a “closet” to come out of?any tips on coming out?

For so long, the LGBTQIA community has been forced to hide who they are, because of the prejudice and hate of others towards them and their “lifestyle” and the closet is that place. I feel like there are better terms with less negative connotations than “closet” and “coming out” to do with the identifying of your sexuality and gender. However it’s part of our history as a community and maybe we should take control and take away the negativity that comes with the word closet and closeted. But I mean our whole community is based on unashamed of who you are. And I don’t think it’s shameful to be in the “closet” as long as you aren’t being homophobic or transphobic or all the other sexuality and identity phobias while your aren’t able to come out yourself..

I think first of all no pressure, for some being in the closet can do more harm than good, whereas it’s the opposite for some being out would cause more trouble than they are equipped to deal with. So I think do it when you are ready, don’t feel pushed or pressured to either remain in he closet or to come out! And I think start with the safest person, maybe a close friend or sibling or a parent. Don’t feel like you have to leap out and let every person know! It’s an anxiety inducing process! So start off with those who are low risk and then build up to those who are high risk. Because then you’ll have that group of being who love and support you. And it’s what you need when you get rejected for being who you are!

16. what’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to lgbtqa characterization in media?

1. They die2. Portrayed as stereotypes, that don’t show that the lgbtqa as a diverse group of people3. There aren’t enough healthy and accurate portrayals of the community

17. what’s your favorite parts of lgbtqa characterization in media?

I think that they are proud of who they are, even when they aren’t particularly proud of themselves as individuals but as a community.

18. what did your teachers say about the lgbtqa community in school?

Well my health and P.E teacher was lesbian so we probably got a bit more of a lesson on sexuality then most. But it wasn’t a big throng yet when I took it as a compulsory class, it was very briefly covered but not in depth.

19. do you practice safe sex with the same sex?

I haven’t had sex, but yes, safe sex is key to any sort of relationship, straight or gay.

20. what’s an absolute turn off for you in people?

Racism, misogyny, all the phobias related the sexuality, identity and genders. And I think the lack of a desire to change ones opinion, and stay stuck in a imbedded and wrong way of thinking!

21. what’s an absolute turn on for you in people?

People who are inclusive, happy, always keen to learn and change and grow! Definitely those who are confident but not arrogant!

22. how do you feel about lgbtqa clubs/apps/websites?

I think they can be awesome places to get support, information and get to know people like you! In a “safe environment”

23. how do you feel about the term “queer” ?

I personally don’t mind it, it’s a good blanket term for those in the community or don’t come under strictly one label! Or who aren’t quite sure where they fit in the community just yet!

24. how does you country view the lgbtqa community?

Well New Zealand was definitely open and okay with it and it’s similar in Spain! I think you still find people who are against it whether or not you live in a LGBTQIA friendly country

25. favorite lgbtqa actor/actress?

Kristen Stewart ♥️

26. any tips for heterosexual people on how to handle lgbtqa events/news?

Don’t make it about you, if it’s something bad (like the pulse shooting) things like “my heart goes out to the families and friends who lost someone” “what a tragic loss of life” “this is such a horrible crime/incident” and if it’s a positive thing (gay marriage becoming possible) “congratulations” “it’s exciting to see progress” “I’m glad they achieved what they wanted” and most of all if you have the desire to make it about yourself or say something homophobic then keep your mouth shut!

27. what’s the most annoying question you have ever gotten?

“If you are with a girl, doesn’t that make you lesbian?” Or “if you had to pick one would you chose girls or guys?”

28. how do you feel about receiving questions about your sexuality/idenity?I don’t mind, I’m happy to talk about it!

29. what is your romantic affiliation?

I’m romantically attracted to both females and males!

#sorry guys I wasn't 100% sure of what the last question meant so hopefully I answered correctly #my asks #answered asks #ask me anything