#gay friendly Oregon

[gaytravelinfo]

The Hotel Zags - Portland, OR

The Hotel Zags | 515 SW Clay St, Portland, OR 97201 | 1-855-523-6914 WELCOME TO THE HOTEL ZAGS — YOUR PORTAL TO PORTLAND  The Hotel Zags is situated in downtown Portland’s Business district, one of the city’s most vibrant neighborhoods. We’re truly close to everywhere you want to be — from delicious dining to hip shopping hot spots to cultural attractions. Most are within walking distance, but…

[lenbryant]

Thank you, Oregon, for not censoring and segregating the books about gay people. That sh*t has gone on long enough. Also, can the schools please get their own libraries? Sheesh! The war on education has really taken its toll.

[avocadosandanxiety]

Tryna chill

[hawks-gender]

here's the original 2009 article where DOS comes out as gay! source link and full article under the cut, interview with DOS is the second half of the article

GOSSIP BOY EXCLUSIVE! TELEVISION ICON DAVID OGDEN STIERS OFFICIALLY COMES OUT

By Wayne Fuller March 11, 2009

BACKSTORY: DAVID OGDEN STIERS

Few would believe that the stodgy appearing actor David Ogden Stiers (DOS to many friends) is a flower child at heart. From his work and general appearance most would describe him as uptight, humorless, conservative, religious, cold, and judgmental. 

Now replace those adjectives with their opposite and you have the real DOS – fun loving, witty, liberal, atheistic, warm and accepting.

Abandoning a harsh Illinois farm boy life, Stiers migrated to Oregon where he flunked out of the University of Oregon and then headed to San Francisco. There he entered the world 1960’s world of Bay Area hippies and began acting with local improv group The Committee with Rob Reiner and Howard Hesseman.

Eventually he became intimate with an Academy-award winning director, who saw Stiers’ budding talent and after a few strings were pulled the Midwesterner found himself on another coast; this time in New York City as a student at Juilliard where he began to be mentored by the prestigious actor John Houseman. Soon after, he started making appearances on shows like Mary Tyler Moore, Rhoda, and the pilot for Charlie’s Angels. Yet in 1977 it was the fortuitous departure of leading character Major Frank Burns in the top program M*A*S*H that would make DOS a star and television legend, as he was brought in to play antagonist to the show’s stars.  

For his role as Major Charles Emerson Winchester THE III, a pompous Bostonian aristocratic surgeon, Stiers obtained two best supporting actor Emmy nominations in one of television’s most critically acclaimed and honored shows. He continued with M*A*S*H for seven seasons and brought new dimensions to his character, who had been written strictly as a foil for Alan Alda’s Hawkeye, but grew into a beloved television icon himself. 

In addition to his acting DOS is a professional conductor and magician. He has been a guest conductor for over 75 orchestras nationwide; often donating his services for a charitable event. If you see him on stage with longtime friend Patty Duke doing the play Love Letters or Together Again for the First Time it will be for the benefit of a local theater needing operational funds or just because they can’t wait to work together again.

Gal pal Patty is most famous for her TV stint playing identical cousins in The Patty Duke Show of the 1960s and her Oscar-winning role as Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker.  Duke, the mother of actor Sean Astin, now does a lot of stage work after a prolonged battle with bipolar disorder. In 2002 she did the part of Aunt Eller in a Broadway revival of Oklahoma!. Starting this month she will be seen as Madame Morrible in the San Francisco production of Wicked.

The esteemed actor, who is known as much for his voice as his face, has never been married, which has led many in Hollywood to assume he is gay. Stiers is now ready to lay those rumors to rest.

Due to professional fears, mostly relating to a substantial body of voice work for a less-gay-friendly-environment-than-you-thought Walt Disney and various children’s programs, DOS has spent his entire life residing in the closet. He’s never been to a gay bar, participated in a Pride event, or any thing that would raise questions about his sexuality. That’s about to change.

INTERVIEW

GB: First thing David we need to let the readers know why you chose Gossip Boy to come out.

DOS: Gossip Boy? I thought you were with the Advocate!

GB: Now.

DOS: Well, you certainly are aware of my lengthy friendship with your associate James. We’ve had a long time conversation over my sexuality and how I’ve kept it close to my chest. There have been questions over the years and I now feel a tad more comfortable in discussing my personal life.

GB: You are gay. Right, David?

DOS: Yes, I am. Very proud to be so.

GB: You are over 66 years old, so why have you waited so long to confirm what many in Hollywood always knew about you?

DOS: There are two reasons really. One is that I enjoy working and even though many have this idealistic belief that the entertainment industry and studios like Walt Disney are gay friendly. For the most part they are, but that doesn’t mean for them that business does not come first. It’s a matter of economics. Most of my more notable work in the last two decades has been as a voice actor. Certainly, I’ve done television appearances, be they recurring or guest roles, and numerous motion picture and documentary stints, but a lot of my income has been derived from voicing Disney and family programming. What they might allow in a more known actor, they prefer not having to deal with in minor players.

GB: Could you name some of the studios and execs who made you fear coming out?

DOS: I won’t. There is no animosity between us and I don’t wish to create any. Simply, they were protecting their business interests. I should say in regards to this that many of my fears were in modern times self-invented. I’ve been working internally on whether they were the problem or if I just continued using them as an excuse long after the call for conservative private lives passed. In that, I mean from the late 1980’s until about seven or eight years ago, you would find certain individuals coming up to you, me, and advocating the position that since we were doing family fare that it would be best were the actors to maintain a certain palatability to parents. These parties likely had heard rumors or harbored suspicions about me and wanted to make sure no embarrassing incidents were forthcoming. Cogsworth, the character I did on Beauty and the Beast could be a bit flamboyant on screen, because basically he is a cartoon, but they didn’t want Cogsworth to become Disney’s gay character, because it got around a gay man was playing him. I haven’t witnessed such things occurring in a long, long time.

GB: Is this why you’re now willing to come out?

DOS: In part. Likely, the biggest part. Yet I wish to spend my life’s twilight being just who I am. I could claim noble reasons as coming out in order to move gay rights forward, but I must admit it is for far more selfish reasons. Now is the time I wish to find someone and I do not desire to force any potential partner to live a life of extreme discretion with me.

GB: Do you feel that even with things better for gays that you could lose work for coming out? There’s been a recent controversy about Australian Olympian Matthew Mitcham not getting product endorsement spots, because of the gay perception. Might this happen to you?

DOS: Admittedly, I do have those nagging worries, but when I set back with a glass of rich cuvée and reason with my fears, I conclude that the work I do now no longer comes attached to once popular discriminations. Too, I don’t do commercials as a habit, so that concern is never prominent in my decision making.

GB: So you’re looking for a potential partner. Any one in mind or do you have a general description?

DOS: Someone both mature and youthful. Who has a good sense of who they are and where they are heading. They need to appreciate the finer things in life, as over the years I’ve developed certain tastes. The more lusty side of me seeks a man with developed arms, as that has always appealed to me. 

GB: While you were in the closet, you avoided most things associated with a wilder gay lifestyle. Any plans to change that?

DOS: I have a very fulfilling and established life and rarely do I find time to add something new to the mix. This doesn’t mean that I am against gay-related activities, but that I am of an age where everything fits comfortably, be it intimate conversations, wine tasting with my many dear friends, driving adventures into the beautiful Oregon countryside, composing, or working on a narrative. I would not be against some of the more serene gatherings of course, but doing a club circuit at my age and with these feet is a tad beyond my means. Most certainly, clubs aren’t always the only indicator of one’s being gay and I don’t wish to convey that idea, I just have the life I live and the cherished friends, both gay and not, and that’s enough.

[pwlanier]

Martin Wong

(American, 1946-1999)

Persuit (El Que Gane Pierde - He Who Wins Looses), 1984,

Hindman Auction

Martin Wong was born in Portland, Oregon in 1946 and came of age artistically in the heady California dreamscape of late 1960s San Francisco. Living in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood of Merry Pranksters and Grateful Dead infamy, Wong an openly gay man of Chinese ancestry, found acceptance in the free spirited, open-minded and mind expansive ideologies of the hippie lifestyle, while experimenting creatively in ceramic and performance art. Above all a painter, it was Wong’s works in the second dimension that earned him the most recognition in the Bay Area and the fabled handle Human Instamatic for his facility for cranking out $7.50 portraits at street art fairs and communal happenings.

In 1978 Wong switched coasts, moving to New York’s Lower East Side, mythically on a friendly “if you can make it there…” type dare, to forge his path as an artist in the postpunk, postmodern epicenter of culture and cool. In New York Wong focused his creative energy on painting using his representation talents to compose edgy, enigmatic and existential character studies of the city, its denizens, buildings, bricks, concrete, steel and pavement, primarily limiting this raw documentation to the sourced sights and sites of his immediate neighborhood. For the most part a self-taught painter, Wong’s canvases identifiably have a naïve visionary quality, sensitively balancing fantastic wonder with observed reality, paint handling imbued with an overall haunting sense of longing, that seems to explore what it means to belong to a group. An artists’ artist, Wong established himself as fixture on the Low East Side art scene, supporting his passion for paint with a day job at the MOMA giftshop, also picking and flipping undervalued antiquities at auction to make ends meet. Just as he enjoyed fellowship with the dropped-out freaks in Frisco, Wong connected deeply with the emerging east coast underground culture of hip hop, specifically the graffiti element, importantly co-founding the Museum of American Graffiti in 1989 and generously donating his own impressive collection of artworks by graffiti pioneers to the Museum of the City of New York in 1994. Wong joined forces romantically and creatively with Nuyorican underground poet and playwright Miguel Piñero after the two met at an exhibition opening at alternative project space ABC No Rio in 1982. The pair’s time together was inspired and productive, with Wong creating many of his most innovative and accomplished painting during their partnership, culminating in Wong’s ambitious 1984 solo show Urban Landscapes at the taste making Semaphore Gallery.

Painted in these salad days and acquired at Semaphore the year it was painted, Persuit (El Que Gane Pierde - He Who Wins Looses), 1984, is a self-consciously ominous New York nocturne, a surprisingly illusionistic wooden frame peppered with poetic phrasing, presumably words burrowed from his often collaborator Piñero, borders a clue that sleight-of-hand could be at play, a view finder, capturing and celebrating this authentically gritty New York minute. In his signature uncommon social meets magical realist fashion, Wong gracefully champions the underdog, the underrepresented, the unseen, revealing the unique and flawed glory of these ignored individuals, also the components that comprises the greater structural whole of an equally marred and magnificent metropolis. A comfortable insider to outsider or even outlaw company, Wong plays with this captivating contradiction visually and conceptually, arranging the composition with gorgeously detailed barriers and boundaries of crumbling brick facades, confining fences, locked gates and closed doors, challenging the audience to uneasily decide which side of the conflict or tracks they reside on, are you a part of, or apart from. In the lower left corner of Persuit…, a shadowy figure ambiguously give chase as loser or be chased as winner, either on the Ignatz Mouse or the Krazy Kat end of the brick toss, depending on the viewer’s chosen vantage, voyeur of the locked in or witness to the locked out. The phrase El Que Gane Pierde, which translates to the antagonistic Whoever Wins Loses also emphatically appears in the charged closing scene of Piñero’s 1984 play Short Eyes, loosely about his incarceration experience, lending credence to a potential jailbreak read of the subject’s trajectory. The lone actor blends with his staged surroundings, partially obscured by the stylized grid of a chain link fence, dwarfed by a desolate righthand crowded backdrop of apartment building geometry, obsessively rendered with Wong’s hallmark exposed brick motifs, enduring monuments of urban progress, a somber stoic chorus more than scenery. Overhead a cryptic surreal constellation map, a visual language of pattern parallel to the fingerspelling iconography the artist frequently employed, stands in as night sky accentuating the intoxicating mystery of the foreboding narrative unfolding. This carefully articulated and decisively stylized star chart dually provides shelter of darkness and celestial navigation guiding our hero hopefully to an escape of transcendent negating outcome, the sublime symbolism of the draw.

Wong sadly lost his battle with AIDS in 1999, dying from complications of the illness years prior to his work receiving the universal acclaim it earns today. Always painstaking in the organization of his vision, following being diagnosed in 1994 Wong was able to realize his full body of work to a level of completion he felt resolved, satisfyingly defining his own destiny as that of a lasting legacy of artistic wins.

[arsonsamruby]

sam winchester pride

i have a new fic <3 hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

it’s s1 sam coming out to dean. was THIS close to making the ending sam ugly crying alone but even though dean Is like. microaggressions boy he’s not going to be a bitch about it all that’s out of character. i think he does try very hard to support sam. like he’s not an ally but probably because he doesn’t really know what an ally is. 

anyway wtf am i even saying.

___ Sam has a headache. Dean comes by, ruffles his hair, slouches into the couch. Sam licks his lips, looking away from the screen. It has loud, bright cartoons on it and in the prickling sense of dread he’s carrying with him, the stimulation is too much. 

Half of the headache is from a hard hit he took to the head, lingering pain. The other half is stress and dehydration. Unless beer counts as hydration, then in which- well, he’s covered. The screen of the television is cracked through; it’s playing Friends reruns. 

He stands abruptly. 

“Sammy, I swear to God, if you start pacing again-” Dean warns, throwing a pillow at him. Sam ducks it, somehow. His body takes up half the room. It’s hard to find space. 

He can’t help it. His feet get itchy, his legs pull tight, and it’s nice. Nice, to put in his earphones and walk around for a little while. “I’ll go out to the parking lot, promise. I won’t bother you.” 

He smiles slightly at Dean, but his brother isn’t much looking. 

The parking lot of the motel has the sticky feeling underfoot of summer heat on asphalt, and sweat. The crumbling pollen and flowers from the trees have made his half-present allergies flare up. As a kid, Sam would have allergy seasons that ran out of sync with everyone else’s. 

Go three years without a single cold, until one awful summer would come and he’d sneeze and sneeze and sneeze. He recalls: Oregon, in a rainy patch. It had been a relief to wash all the yellow pollen away with the weekly downpour. Another thing about Oregon, he’d had a best friend there. A girl. 

Huh. He tries to tuck his smile away, but it comes through like the sun through clouds. Sam looks dumb, doesn’t he? Some goofball pacing around a parking lot and smiling to himself. 

After about ten minutes, maybe more, his pace slows. The scenery is getting too humid. He wants to roll back into bed, into those cool sheets. 

“Sammy? Is that you?” 

Sam kicks his shoes off into the dirty corner. Dean’s left a bootprint on the floor there. If Sam was looking for a fight, he’d say something. “It’s me.” 

“You got a call. Someone left a voicemail. For you.” 

His voice is sharp, pounding hail on cement. “A call?” Sam replies dumbly.

Dean nods his head over to the answering machine. “I’ll put it on for you.” 

Sam’s heart begins to slow to a rolling stretch of highway. The cars moving across it are few and far between and his breath is short and dangerous. 

“Sammy?” The effusive warmth dies down after the nickname, realizing Dean’s heard it through. The voicemail, the nickname. “You gave me this number the other day. Outside the Jewel Osco?” 

He laughs. It crackles over the phone in a friendly way. Friendly the way he kissed tiny little butterflies onto Sam’s collarbones, the way his house was cool in the summer night. 

“I guess you’re a big-time developer and all so I’m not sure if you even care. But I have the jacket you left with me? The other night?” 

He clears his throat. “If you want it back, you can drop by.” The voicemail ends. 

“You leave your jacket at your friend’s house, Sammy? Come on, it’s just like you’re little again. You want me to pick it up for you?” 

Sam realizes two things: Dean hasn’t caught what the message means, and Sam wishes he would have. 

“Dean?” 

“Mmm?” 

Sam has never been able to cry with dry eyes. He can’t hide the shaky undercurrent to his voice. His eyelids feel like cement but he keeps staring at Dean. A flush of fear is blooming high on his cheeks. 

“Me and that guy, we’re not just friends. Or whatever.” 

Sam went calling for information, at his house. Said he was a real estate developer, even though the back of his neck went red with the obvious lie. The suit was cheap and he was young. He’d gotten the information and then this guy, his name is Jude, had kissed him. Sam left the suit jacket there. He’s glad he’s getting it back, all things considered. 

He still doesn’t know what possessed him to hand over his number after buying peanut butter and sandwich bread two days later. A crack in his self control, maybe. 

“What do you mean…” Dean isn’t making jokes, at least. Sam squints hard at the floor. His head feels like a matchbox. Being struck over and over again. His headache is back, erupting with a vengeance. 

“Sam, is it something- Dad did? Is it something I did? To make you, uh.” 

Sam shakes his head, sighing deeply. He wants to be a bitch about it and spit out something sarcastic. “What do you think you could have done?” 

Dean shakes his head. Murmurs, “I don’t know,” almost that Sam can’t hear him. “I guess you’re the type, though, Sammy.” Sam knows what he means by that. “As long as you don’t go around falling in love with some starry eyed dude. We still have to find Dad.” 

“About that. Don’t tell him.” Sam pointedly raises his eyebrows. Dean doesn’t have a great record of choosing- choosing him, his secrets that he keeps tight in his fists. He doesn’t have a record of letting any opportunity to be a good son slip by. 

“Sure, sure.” Dean frowns. “Hey, what about Jess? Did you lead some poor chick on up until-” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Sam’s hands are suddenly shaking. Dean leans back. He’s not the shrinking type, his shoulders stay up and guarded. “I’m not gay, I’m- I’m something else. Both, you know?” The inside of his cheek is bitten raw, he can taste the fleshier bits coming alive. 

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Sammy.” 

The telling was easy; now it’s muddier. Sam wades in anyway. “Who here is the expert, you or me?” The sick dread has risen in his stomach and is now lapping at his sodden brain, pulling him under. It’s hot as hell out but he pulls the blankets over his legs. 

“Sorry. Bad take.” 

“I loved her-” Dean doesn’t like hearing about Jess and Sam cuts himself off. 

“Never mind. I’m going to go get more beer.” Dean leaves. 

Sam looks between the ugly green blankets, the TV still on, the white, unearthly light seeping in through every crack. When he told Jess, she lit up with it, went on to ask him questions, run her fingers through his shower-damp hair and let him talk. 

Dean bursts through the door. “Sammy, I really do want to say- thank you for telling me. You wanna talk about it more, we can go get your girly coffee drink and we can talk about whatever.” 

The aimless tears in Sam’s eyes finally come to the surface. “Oh, come on,” Sam groans. “You don’t have to act like I’m that-” 

Dean interrupts him. “Here, Sammy. Here. The way I see it, you’re like Chandler Bing now.” 

Sam blinks at him. “Dean, he’s not-” 

“Well, maybe not in the show, but everyone knows he’s gay anyway. You’re like Chandler Bing. If you want to go with me and get a coffee, uh, tell me about the guy action you got at Stanford, I’ll be your Joey.” 

Sam swipes the back of his hand across his eyes. If tears were blood he would look like a murder victim. Dean approaches him nervously. “Seriously.” He wrestles Sam into a tight hug, holding him for a long few minutes. 

“Do we still have painkillers around? I have a headache.” The walls (brown wood and decades out of date) are no longer closing in on him under oppressive heat and thoughts of Jess. Dean isn’t mad. Just- just Dean. 

Life returns to normal.

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 2

part one

Summary: Shit hits the fan, and the rest of the BAU is done with it.

Word Count: 3523

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Warnings: case involving targeting gay people, brief mention of a child abduction case, coming out/anxiety of experiencing transphobia (no actual transphobia though), alcohol, swearing

@aleccolocco (sorry it took so long to finish lol)

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

"No, that doesn't make any sense at all, doctor!" you spat his title. "He's not jealous of these couples, killing what he can't have, or a homophobe, punishing gay people for being happy. He's putting an end to their unhappy relationships. He sees it as mercy." Over the months, your cold war with Reid turned into outright conflict, and tonight, alone in the police station in Oregon, was no exception. Hotchner had tasked the two of you with presenting the preliminary profile the next morning, and it was going as well as conversations ever went.

"We have no evidence that he knows they're unhappy, though. All of his victims are clearly happy in their relationships," Reid challenged.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Please. One look at their social media and it's obvious that the relationships are on the rocks."

"Where do you get that? All I see are typical happy relationships. Selfies, checking into special events together, posts about kind things one does for the other. Nothing indicating a troubled relationship to me."

"The gentlemen doth protest too much. They're painting an overly happy painting on social media, hoping that some of that happiness will actually become real. They're desperate for the relationship to work."

"Let's say you're right. I don't think you are, but let's pretend for the sake of trying to see your logic through. Why? Why would they be so desperate to save a failing relationship?"

"God, straight men just don't fucking get it!" You went to grab a file, missing his small flinch. "You don't understand how limited the dating pool for men who are into men is. Look at the most recent couple in particular. The most lovey-dovey on social media, and got the most brutal deaths."

"Yes, because they were the happiest. My theory holds," Reid interrupted.

"No. Look, this guy put way more out there on social media than his partner, and look at the pictures he posted. Look how forced his smile is, look at the body language. He needs this relationship to work, because dating as a gay man is one thing, dating as a gay trans man is almost impossible. Having to start over and deal with transphobia over and over again is worse than being in a bad relationship. In his eyes, I mean." Shit, the first person I come out to on this team cannot be Spencer fucking Reid. He doesn't deserve the honor.

"That was yesterday. We haven't gotten the autopsy report yet. How could you possibly know that he's trans?"

"Testosterone vials and needles in the bathroom. Neither of them are old enough for a cis man to reasonably have issues that require testosterone injections. It's HRT, hormone replacement therapy."

"Even if you're right, your conclusion still seems like a much bigger jump than mine, that the killer sees the relationships as happy and is lashing out at that, be it from jealousy or homophobia."

"Whatever. You'll see tomorrow, when we talk to the M.E., that he was trans, and that fact backs me up. I am absolutely right about this, and you will eat your words. Then I will present my theory, and you can choke on yours."

"We? You anticipate us spending more time together?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I meant 'we' as in the team, asshat. The world doesn't revolve around you. Mine sure as hell doesn't. I'm gonna go back to the hotel, write my own damn preliminary profile, and try to get some fucking sleep. Clearly we won't agree on this."

"We don't ever agree on anything," he pointed out.

"Not true. We agree that we dislike each other and can't get along. Good night, doctor." You turned and walked away, not giving him a chance to respond.

This man is going to be the death of me, he thought as he watched you walk away.

~

The autopsy report came in the next day, and you were right. The tech team also found a locked notes app on his phone that catalogued his unhappiness and fear of leaving. You presented your preliminary profile to the team. Reid didn't even argue; he just sat in silence, leaving the room as soon as you were finished. Never one to pass up a chance to gloat for beating him, you offered to get coffee for the team, got everyone's order, and left shortly behind him.

You were expecting to catch up to him, his impossibly long legs be damned. You weren't expecting him to be waiting for you. He pulled you into an empty interrogation room and pushed you up against a wall, his face just inches from yours. It was only a moment before being flustered by the closeness and those goddamn eyes were replaced by anger.

"What the FUCK, Reid?"

"What game are you playing, Y/N? What game are we playing? What's your endgame?" He spoke quickly and softly, but there was an intensity in his voice that had you captivated.

"I'm the one playing games?" You pushed him back, away from you. "You're the one who decided to hate me before we even met. When I transferred, all I wanted was to do a good job and fit in with the team. But quite literally from the minute I walked through the door, you'd decided you hate me. Turnabout is just fair play, gorgeous." Oh, fuck.

"Gorgeous?" You walked past him to the other side of the room, running a hand through your hair and turning your back on him. "Fine. Yeah, okay? I wanted approval from the brilliant and handsome Doctor Spencer Reid. In a way that's respectful of your heterosexuality, of course." You turned around and faced him again. "But that doesn't matter, because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me right off the bat."

"What makes you think I'm straight?" He's fucking with me, now that that cat is out of the bag. Great. Fucking cishet men. Even he's no different. Thank god he still thinks I'm cis.

"Garcia mentioned in her newbie-run-down that you're 'awkward, but in a cute way, especially around women'. Plus, she mentioned that Emily is bi, leaving everyone else implied straight as even the best cishet allies are wont to do. And as we both know, Penelope knows everything.

And before you make the hearsay argument I can see forming in that brilliant head of yours, I've heard and seen too much about your impeccable memory to assume you don't remember when we all went to the bar after my first case. I was unabashedly Queer, friendly flirting with Derek and calling out cishet bullshit. When I did the latter, you literally rolled your eyes and walked away. Which is, funnily enough, some cishet bullshit. 

JJ said you were just going through a thing and things would get better, but they just got worse. I'm not going to ask you to spill whatever was going on, because it's not my business, but god damn, dude. Why did you hate me so much so quickly?"

"You asked JJ about me?" He took a few steps towards you, a small smile on his face.

"That's the part you focused on? Jesus fucking Christ. Yes, I asked her about why you decided to hate me before we even met. Whatever. I hope you got whatever you were looking for by pulling me in here. I'm done. Done with this conversation, done with whatever has been going on with you and us since the day I transferred." You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm. It was barely more than a light touch, but you let it stop you.

"Y/N. I can't-" he sighed. "God, you make my head spin. I can't organize my thoughts enough to say what I want to. JJ was right, there was something I had to work through, and I guess you'd made up your mind about me before I figured it out. It isn't an excuse for how I treated you, just an explanation. As for the more recent development of arguments… I guess I read a subtext that wasn't there. I could never dislike you, let alone hate you. I am truly sorry for- for all of it." With three long strides, he was out the door.

Make his head spin? What subtext? Since when is he unable to say what's on his mind? And what was that about not disliking me? All we've done since we met is argue or ignore each other. Why else would he act like that? Why do I even care? Why am I so knotted up about what he's thinking and feeling? Whatever. Fuck him, and not in the fun way. I've gotta go get coffee for the team. As you were getting the coffee, you couldn't get the memory of his face, so close to yours, to stop playing in your head.

The rest of the case was mostly as normal, but there was an energy between you and Spencer that was distant like when you joined the team, but there was something else to it that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It made you a little bit sad, though, for reasons you didn't understand.

~

"I love you, Y/N. I love you so much. I pulled away from you because it terrified me how much I loved you from the moment you walked through the door that first day. Being around you, even when we were arguing, made me feel alive in a way I never had before. You're all I think about, you're all I could ever want. I love you."

"I… I love you too." You didn't know which one of you moved, maybe you both did, but in an instant, you were kissing Spencer Reid, and you couldn't have been happier.

-

You woke up with a start, breathing heavily. You looked around; you were in your room, home alone, and it was 3:37 am. What the hell was that?

Four hours later, you trudged through the door of the BAU office, venti red-eye in hand. You made it about ten steps before Derek had his arm around your shoulders.

"Whoa there, hot stuff. Rough night?" You tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't budge, so you just kept walking, making him go with you towards your desk.

"So not your business, Derek. You being open with your personal life doesn't mean we all have to be open like that with ours."

"Personal life, huh? So who is he? More importantly, how was he, and should we expect more mornings like this in the future?" You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him away. You'd reached your desk, so you sat on top of it, facing him. As you did, you made eye contact with Spencer, who was well within earshot. His face was unreadable, and you weren't sure why him hearing Morgan tease you like that upset you. It never had before.

"No, Derek. There's no one. Just some nightmares. Nothing major; I'll be fine by tomorrow." You got off your desk, sat in your chair, and logged into your laptop. Derek whistled and walked away without another word, shaking his head.

You tried to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done, but you couldn't stop thinking about that dream. The feeling of his lips on yours… it felt so real.

This is ridiculous. Love? We don't even like each other. Well… there was the stuff he was saying yesterday- 'I could never dislike you, let alone hate you', and some sort of subtext? But not disliking someone is a far cry from love. Plus, he's straight, so this is all absurd. And even if he DID have feelings for me, I sure as hell don't return them. I mean, maybe he's not as awful as I've thought, especially if he wasn't coming from a place of dislike. And he really is very pretty. Those eyes… Wait, what the fuck? This is all fucking ridiculous. I just need to get a full night's sleep tomorrow, and all this weirdness will be gone.

You took a giant gulp of your coffee, shook your head, and ran your fingers through your hair. Fortunately, Hotchner called a team meeting, forcing your attention to other things.

While no case could ever be described as 'normal', this case was pretty cut and dry, once you figured out what you were looking for. No dramatic twist, no tense showdown at his arrest. There weren't many cases like that, but you were very glad that this one was. You never sleep well when on a case, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake that dream, the butterflies it left in your stomach every time you looked at him, and the strange disappointment when, unlike before that moment in Oregon, he wasn't looking at you.

Two more weeks passed. The energy between you and Spencer, whatever force it was that had drawn you together to argue again and again, was gone. You were polite to each other, and cooperated as necessary, but didn't do more than the bare minimum when it came to interacting with each other. Your interactions were cold and low-spirited. So you were so glad for a fun night out with Penelope, Emily, and JJ.

"So, Y/N, things seem… different… between you and Spencer these days. Did something happen?" Emily's tone made it clear that the three of them had intended to bring this up long before the plan to get drinks was even made. "I appreciate y'all waiting until I had a couple of drinks in me at least before going here. I guess we just got tired of fighting? I don't know. I can't figure out what's going on in that brilliant head of his. I thought I at least knew where I stood with him, even though it was purely adversarial, but I think I was wrong. But then that leaves me with no idea what he thinks of me or why I care so damn much."

"Really? No idea at all?" JJ asked. "I remember walking by a closed door in the police station in Oregon and hearing the word 'gorgeous' being thrown around." "Oh my god. You heard that?" You buried your face in your hands, and they all laughed.

"Yeah, I did, but only that one word. I'd figured you were on the phone with someone, but then you and Spence both started acting sad. I wasn't sure, of course, that you were talking to him until just now."

"Fuck. Okay, yeah. I think he's pretty. But I'm absolutely not alone in that. Derek calls him Pretty Boy, for goodness' sake. Appreciating someone's beauty doesn't have to mean anything more."

"Y/N, really? After everything we've been through together, you're gonna lie to us like this? Whatever happened, you've both been miserable since, and it's throwing the whole team off balance."

"What do you want me to say, Penelope? That I'm in love with him? He's pretentious and a know-it-all and a nerd and funny and kind and gorgeous and oh my God. I think I'm in love with him." The three women clapped and cheered.

"Finally, you get there! Took you long enough." Emily winked. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Keep this shit between us until my feelings go away. Even if he wasn't straight, I wouldn't risk fucking things up by telling him how I felt. As it is, I stand no chance in hell, so I'm just gonna write this one off as another straight guy I've fallen for and try to move on."

"Y/N, if you tell him-" Penelope started.

"No. You, more than anyone, know why I can't even entertain the idea of trying to be with him. I can't set myself up for that kind of pain. Not here, not where things are so good." You looked at all three of them. "I know that your intentions were good, but I just can't do this. I'm sorry." You grabbed your coat and left.

Your interactions with Spencer changed yet again. Now that you knew you loved him, you couldn't help yourself from being warmer towards him. As the weeks passed, you got closer. After three weeks, you considered him to be a good friend, not that that made things any less painful. You were just hoping that Penelope, Emily, and JJ were going to respect your wishes and drop the subject of your feelings for him.

[From: Penelope]: round table room ASAP

Shit. The last time you'd gotten that text from Penelope, the team left on a serial child abduction case 30 minutes later. So, despite it being your day off, you ran out the door and were there with your go bag in 15 minutes.

But no one else was there. No files on the table, nothing to indicate that there was a new case. You pulled out your phone to call Penelope, but then you heard a commotion outside the door- you'd closed it behind you.

"No, Derek, wait, I don't-"

"Can it, Pretty Boy, and thank me later." Derek opened the door, pushed Spencer into the room, winked at you, and shut the door, all in about 3 seconds.

"Spencer. Um, hi. Is the rest of the team not going to join us? Garcia's text seemed pretty urgent." You tucked your phone into your pocket.

"I don't think so, since I just heard Morgan barricade the door." He tried to open the door and failed.

"Oh my god they're Parent Trapping us. I'm gonna kill them."

Spencer tilted his head, confused. "Parent Trapping?"

"Oh my god have you not seen any of the Parent Trap movies? Were you living under a rock in 1998?" "I was seventeen and working on my first doctorate, so pretty much, yeah," he laughed. You couldn't help but laugh, too, as you firmly ignored how his smile made you absolutely melt.

"Fair enough. The '61 one is good too, but the '98 Lindsay Lohan one is Iconic for good reason. Anyway. The point is, they've locked us in here and won't let us out until we have a conversation."

"Just a conversation? Or do they want us to talk about something in particular?" He took a seat at the table.

"I- yeah, they have a particular topic in mind. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I was tipsy and said things I should have just kept to myself. I thought they'd respected my wishes and left well enough alone, but clearly they didn't. And they won't let us out of here until I tell you-" you hesitated.

"Tell me what?" He leaned forward, and part of you swore you saw hope in his beautiful brown eyes. You looked at the floor, avoiding them.

"Tell you that I… have feelings for you. Romantic, cheesy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feelings. I don't know why they want me to tell you this. We've just gotten to a good place as friends, and you're straight, and-"

Somehow you missed the sound of him getting up and taking the few steps over to you, because you practically jumped out of your skin when his hands were suddenly on your shoulders.

"Y/N. Please, darling, look at me?" Bewildered by the endearment, you did, and his smile was blinding. "I'm not straight. I'm bi, and I think part of me has been in love with you since your first day at the BAU. The thing JJ said I was working through? The potential problems of having feelings for a coworker. For you. As soon as you walked through that door", he pointed and then took both your hands in his, "I loved you. The night at the bar? I was rolling my eyes at myself for how much I wanted to kiss you, and I walked away to stop myself from doing something reckless. I love you, Y/N. Can I do something reckless?"

"I'm trans," you blurted. "I hope that doesn't change anything, but it's something you should know. If knowing that I'm trans changes things, now is the time for you to say something. If it's a problem and it blows up later, it might actually kill me. Because I love you, too. So much. If it doesn't change anything, then please, Spencer, kiss me."

The words were barely out of your mouth before his lips were on yours. You weren't sure how long you were kissing before you were interrupted by cheers from the other side of the door. "Shit, Spencer, they're going to be the worst about this, aren't they?" You were a bit embarrassed by how breathy your voice was, but you were too happy to really care.

"Oh yeah. We're not going to get a moment that's just us in this building ever again. Do you want to get it over with and face them, or would you prefer we stay in this moment a bit longer?"

"What do you think, doctor?" you asked, pulling him in for another kiss.

[gaytravelinfo]

The Hotel Zags - Portland, OR

The Hotel Zags | 515 SW Clay St, Portland, OR 97201 | 1-855-523-6914 WELCOME TO THE HOTEL ZAGS — YOUR PORTAL TO PORTLAND  The Hotel Zags is situated in downtown Portland’s Business district, one of the city’s most vibrant neighborhoods. We’re truly close to everywhere you want to be — from delicious dining to hip shopping hot spots to cultural attractions. Most are within walking distance, but…

[netflixaddictedd]

10 lesbian books you should read

Leah on the offbeat: When it comes to drumming, Leah Burke is usually on beat—but real life isn’t always so rhythmic. She’s an anomaly in her friend group: the only child of a young, single mom, and her life is decidedly less privileged. She loves to draw but is too self-conscious to show it. And even though her mom knows she’s bisexual, she hasn’t mustered the courage to tell her friends—not even her openly gay BFF, Simon. So Leah really doesn’t know what to do when her rock-solid friend group starts to fracture in unexpected ways. With prom and college on the horizon, tensions are running high. It’s hard for Leah to strike the right note while the people she loves are fighting—especially when she realizes she might love one of them more than she ever intended. (Make sure to read Simon vs the homosapiens agenda before Reading this)

Her royal highness: Millie Quint is devastated when she discovers that her sort-of-best friend/sort-of-girlfriend has been kissing someone else. Heartbroken and ready for a change of pace, Millie decides to apply for scholarships to boarding schools . . . the farther from Houston the better. Soon, Millie is accepted into one of the world's most exclusive schools, located in the rolling highlands of Scotland. Here, the country is dreamy and green; the school is covered in ivy, and the students think her American-ness is adorable. The only problem: Mille's roommate Flora is a total princess. She's also an actual princess. Of Scotland. At first, the girls can't stand each other, but before Millie knows it, she has another sort-of-best-friend/sort-of-girlfriend. Princess Flora could be a new chapter in her love life, but Millie knows the chances of happily-ever-afters are slim . . . after all, real life isn't a fairy tale . . . or is it?

The price of salt: Therese, a struggling young sales clerk, and Carol, a homemaker in the midst of a bitter divorce, abandon their oppressive daily routines for the freedom of the open road, where their love can blossom. But their newly discovered bliss is shattered when Carol is forced to choose between her child and her lover.

The miseducation of Cameron Post: When Cameron Post's parents die suddenly in a car crash, her shocking first thought is relief. Relief they'll never know that, hours earlier, she had been kissing a girl. But that relief doesn't last, and Cam is forced to move in with her conservative aunt Ruth and her well-intentioned but hopelessly old-fashioned grandmother. She knows that from this point on, her life will forever be different. Survival in Miles City, Montana, means blending in and leaving well enough alone, and Cam becomes an expert at both. Then Coley Talor moves to town. Beautiful, pickup-driving Coley is a perfect cowgirl with the perfect boyfriend to match. She and Cam forge an unexpected and intense friendship, one that seems to leave room for something more to emerge. But just as that starts to seem like a real possibility, Aunt Ruth takes drastic action to "fix" her niece, bringing Cam face-to-face with the cost of denying her true self even if she's not quite sure who that is.

Late to the party: Seventeen is nothing like Codi Teller imagined. She’s never crashed a party, never stayed out too late. She’s never even been kissed. And it’s not just because she’s gay. It’s because she and her two best friends, Maritza and JaKory, spend more time in her basement watching Netflix than engaging with the outside world. So when Maritza and JaKory suggest crashing a party, Codi is highly skeptical. Those parties aren’t for kids like them. They’re for cool kids. Straight kids. But then Codi stumbles upon one of those cool kids, Ricky, kissing another boy in the dark, and an unexpected friendship is formed. In return for never talking about that kiss, Ricky takes Codi under his wing and draws her into a wild summer filled with late nights, new experiences, and one really cute girl named Lydia. The only problem? Codi never tells Maritza or JaKory about any of it.

Annie on my mind: Liza begins to doubt her feelings for Annie after someone finds out about their relationship, and realizes, after starting college, that her denial of love for Annie was a mistake.

Tell me again how a crush should feel: Leila has made it most of the way through Armstead Academy without having a crush on anyone, which is a relief. As an Iranian American, she’s different enough; if word got out that Leila liked girls, life would be twice as hard. But when beautiful new girl Saskia shows up, Leila starts to take risks she never thought she would. As she carefully confides in trusted friends about Saskia’s confusing signals, Leila begins to figure out that all her classmates are more complicated than they first appear to be, and some are keeping surprising secrets of their own.

It's not like it's a secret: Sixteen-year-old Sana Kiyohara has too many secrets. Some are small, like how it bothers her when her friends don’t invite her to parties. Some are big, like the fact that her father may be having an affair. And then there’s the one that she can barely even admit to herself—the one about how she might have a crush on her best friend. When Sana and her family move to California, she begins to wonder if it’s finally time for some honesty, especially after she meets Jamie Ramirez. Jamie is beautiful and smart and unlike anyone Sana’s ever known. There are just a few problems: Sana's new friends don't trust Jamie's crowd; Jamie's friends clearly don't want her around anyway; and a sweet guy named Caleb seems to have more-than-friendly feelings for her. Meanwhile, her dad’s affair is becoming too obvious to ignore. Sana always figured that the hardest thing would be to tell people that she wants to date a girl, but as she quickly learns, telling the truth is easy…what comes after it, though, is a whole lot more complicated.

Juliet takes a breath: Juliet Milagros Palante is a self-proclaimed closeted Puerto Rican baby dyke from the Bronx. Only, she's not so closeted anymore. Not after coming out to her family the night before flying to Portland, Oregon, to intern with her favorite feminist writer--what's sure to be a life-changing experience. And when Juliet's coming out crashes and burns, she's not sure her mom will ever speak to her again. But Juliet has a plan--sort of. Her internship with legendary author Harlowe Brisbane, the ultimate authority on feminism, women's bodies, and other gay-sounding stuff, is sure to help her figure out this whole "Puerto Rican lesbian" thing. Except Harlowe's white. And not from the Bronx. And she definitely doesn't have all the answers . . .In a summer bursting with queer brown dance parties, a sexy fling with a motorcycling librarian, and intense explorations of race and identity, Juliet learns what it means to come out--to the world, to her family, to herself.

Style: Kyle Blake likes plans. So far, they’re pretty simple: Finish her senior year of high school, head off to a good college, find a cute boyfriend, graduate, get a good job, get married, the whole heterosexual shebang. Nothing is going to stand in the way of that plan. Not even Stella Lewis. Stella Lewis also has a plan: Finish her senior year as cheer captain, go to college, finally let herself flirt with (and maybe even date) a girl for the first time and go from there. Fate has other plans for Kyle and Stella when they’re paired up in their AP English class and something between them ignites. It’s confusing and overwhelming and neither of them know what to do about it. One thing they do know is that their connection can’t be ignored. The timing just isn’t right. But is there ever a good time for falling in love?

[exhxustxd]

ash cruz is here.

basic information:

full name: ashley “ash” cruz

nickname(s): goes by ash

age: 32

date of birth: may 10th

hometown: portland, oregon

current location: taos, new mexico

ethnicity: ashkenazi jewish, dominican

nationality: american

gender: cis woman

pronouns: she/her

orientation: the gayest of them all

occupation: delivery driver by day, bartender by night

living arrangements: renting a small cabin with clyde

language(s) spoken: english, dominican spanish

physical appearance:

face claim: monica raymund

hair color: brown

eye color: dark brown

height: 5′4

build: athletic?

tattoos: a bunch of doodles on on one thigh, a couple small ones on the arms

piercings: none 

clothing style: super casual, sweatpants or ripped jeans and a t-shirt, with the sleeves cut off if warm enough outside 

usual expression: either slightly annoyed, or smirking, there’s no in between

distinguishing characteristics: good lord she’s hot as hell

health:

physical ailments: tore her acl playing soccer in high school, and has had it reconstructed. while it is mostly fine, some days it’s more sore and annoying than others

neurological conditions: anxiety, ptsd

allergies: none that she’s aware of

sleeping habits: has had a lot of trouble with falling asleep lately, but once she’s out, she can be out for a solid twelve

eating habits: whatever is in the fridge, if anything, if not, takeout

exercise habits: loves to bike. mostly terrain and mountain. other than that – a lot of sex.

emotional stability: appears to be around a 7/10, but probably really is at like a 3/10 these days

sociability: very social, which contributes a lot to her work, especially social with the women, you know. also butts into things she has nothing to do with

body temperature: rather warm 

addictions: cigarettes, alcohol, cocaine, pills

drug use: cigarettes when stressed or anxious, which has been a lot lately, but manages to keep it to that normally. some trouble with cocaine and pills, depending on what she feels the need for, but not as bad as the alcohol

alcohol use: excessive, definitely an alcohol abuse disorder at this point

personality:

positive traits: loyal, friendly, persistent, dependable

negative traits: impulsive, stubborn, narrow-minded, reckless

fears: disappointing the people closest to her, being on her own

hobbies: biking, partying and fucking

favorites:

weather: warm and super sunny

color: grey

music: emo rap and sad trap

movies: mostly watches tv-shows, an action drama hits the spot

sport: soccer, duh

beverage: jack and diet

food: pica pollo

animal: quokka

song: bad place – the hunna

family:

father: dominic cruz

mother: alicia cruz

sibling(s): two older sisters, a younger brother

children: –

pet(s): a golden retriever named clyde

family’s financial status: upper class, very well off

extra:

zodiac: taurus

tw: homophobia, conversion therapy, domestic abuse, alcohol abuse, drug abuse

bio:

born and raised in portland, oregon, ash never really fit in with her family very well. 

her parents were very strict and religious, something ash very early on realized she wanted nothing to do with. however, this would prove to make life very difficult for her at home. especially when ash realized she was gay.

not wanting to pull her punches with her parents and being the rebel that she had become in the household, ash came out to them fairly early on. this resulted in her parents doing everything in their power to get rid of her “lesbian urges”, including abusing her at home and sending her to conversion therapy camp.

ash did really well on the soccer team in high school, and it was looking like she would be offered a college scholarship, but during her senior year, she ruptured her acl and had to undergo surgery, which pretty much took the chance away from her.

while her family easily could have paid for a college education, ash didn’t want to be tied to them more than necessary, so she packed her things and moved to seattle.

she got a job as a bartender, and has been working there since. it works well with her personality, and oftentimes leads to her finding a girl to pickup by the end of her shift – always a nice treat.

trying to cope with the trauma of her teenage years and in an effort to avoid dealing with most things in life, ash got into a bad habit of drinking too much, both at work and on days off, which eventually escalated to abusing drugs sometimes.

six years ago, ash started working for audrey as a delivery driver as well, and there’s nothing ash wouldn’t do for her.

her girlfriend of four years somewhat recently left her due to it, and after her having held ash down for the time they had been together, ash is back to sleeping with anything femme with a pulse, and is spiraling more than ever before, while still trying to get her head back above water on her own.

ash isn’t very selective about who she makes friends with. if you’re nice to her, she’ll be nice to you. while she’s very good at quickly figuring out whether or not you’re worth her time, she will be very slow to judge you and give everyone a fair chance. once you are close with her, she will be very loyal – but she will also expect that back.

ash thrives in chaos. she feels comfortable when everything is falling apart around them and often manages to keep it together in those kinds of environment.

criticism usually bounces right off ash – unless it is coming from an unfair and close place. she really doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her.

ash is not a big fan of change, and would rather have things stay the same for as long as possible.

she’s not particularly good at expressing her emotions, and will put up a front and do what she can to deflect in order to avoid having to deal with it. however, if she does care a lot about you, you will know. she will show it in every other way she can.

ash doesn’t really have much self-control. she goes big or goes home. what the hell is moderation?

[tshot]

little get to know me meme! tagged by kat @blackcrayon hehe

rules: answer 20 questions and tag 20 people (LOL as if)

nickname: charles if ur nasty

zodiac: cancer sun aries moon scorpio rising

height: 5’2”

last movie i saw: kikis delivery service with my bf :’)

last thing i googled: australian tree frog lifespan

favorite musician: oooohh uhh. theres sooo many. i think my ultimate fav is kurt cobain though

other blogs: none besides my old url im hanging on to

blogs following: 631 lol i need to clear some out

amount of sleep: i usually aim for 6-7 hours but i can function ok on 5

what i am wearing: just pink pajama pants with cats on them :-)

dream job: god idk. librarian or something. i dont want to work i want to eat fruit and have gay sex

dream trip: tahiti with my bf! though in the meantime i’ve also been itching to go to the oregon coast again someday when it’s safe

favorite food: tonkotsu ramen

play an instrument: i play guitar and a bit of ukulele too, and i really wanna learn bass n drums someday

languages: english, a bit of conversational croatian & french, and i can read some hiragana & katakana but my understanding of japanese is very rudimentary

favorite song: oh god. um um um. first love late spring by mitski

random fact: im moving in 3 days!

describe yourself as aesthetic things: sun coming through a kitchen window, a friendly stray cat, a quiet rocky beach, coffee with milk and honey, light wash denim

im tagging @ambienthousewife @bugshroom @acorncharm @unico2 @zowboy @strawberryjehan @endure :-) if u feel like it!!

[mourntheantagonist]

I love the ol’ moving to California fic just as much as the next person, but I strongly hc that harringrove actually moves elsewhere.

Maybe Billy doesn’t want to go back to california because it brings back bad memories. Maybe Steve just doesn’t like the idea of moving to Cali. Maybe it’s too expensive. Idk.

I LOVE the idea of them moving to Portland, Oregon. Am I biased because I was born there? Yeah. But just hear me out.

I feel like Portland is the perfect place that just caters to both of their interests so well. West coast means Billy still has access to beaches. It’s a big city, but not too big. A perfect middle ground for the city boy and the small town boy. It was gay friendly (all things considered) in the 80s. It has a really good climate to satisfy both of them (not too hot not too cold). It just feels right to me.

I love all the potential vibes. The concert scene is amazing. Really good music was coming out of the pnw during the 80s so. Enjoying all the cute little shops downtown. Going to Trail Blazers games. Hiking up multnomah falls. Ugh the vibes are immaculate. I will never not write my future fics set in Portland and I’m not sorry.

[fixaidea]

There’s a challenge going on at Twitter where you gotta list off what you know about each state of the US.

Sooo here’s your local friendly Hungarian hick’s understanding of all the states of the USA:

Alabama: ...Country music? 

Alaska: Very cold, lots of fir and mountains, cool sledge-dogs, unreasonable food prices.

Arizona: Desert.

Arkansas: Not pronounced how you think it’s pronounced. This is in the Bible Belt, right?

California: Do not trust the sunshine, it’s COLD, cool sequoia trees, San Francisco has a whole Gay District, which is cool, no Walmart here, familiar baked goods supposedly exist but are hard to find.

Colorado: This is one of those hopelessly square ones in the middle, right?

Connecticut: ...And this is another one of those.

Delaware: It’s small and it... exists?

Florida: Local Man gets up to weird shit every other day, humid climate, bogs and beaches, alligators seen more as a nuisance than a threat, cajun food.

Georgia: Devil lost his fiddle here. Deeply suspicious state flag. (Unless I’m mixing it up with Alabama.)

Hawaii: WAY more out in the Pacific than I first assumed, basically volcanoes, spam is popular.

Idaho: That one guy from Dune.

Illinois: Isn’t this also one of the flat states in the middle? Grass, corn, the place where buffallos should be?

Indiana: ...Okay I can’t even place this one on a map.

Iowa: ...This is still more to the East and more to the North than not, right...?

Kansas: Dorothy is from here so... tornadoes? This is also Bible Belt, right? Not pronounced like Arkansas.

Kentucky: ...Fried chicken? This is still somewhere around the Appallache, right?

Louisiana: Also humid. Jazz?

Maine: Maine Coon cats! This is one of those small triangular ones in the North-East, next to New Hampshire.

Maryland: Real weird state flag.

Massachusetts: ...The Bee Gees sings about this? Also small.

Michigan: Very cold, very North, presumeably has one of the Great Lakes in it.

Minnesota: Flat, grassland, probably corn?

Mississippi: I’m assuming it has at least one huge river. Southern. Gospel music?

Missouri: Ditto.

Montana: At least one interesting paleonthological site, lotta mountains.

Nebraska: Also kinda square and somewhere near the middle?

Nevada: Desert. This is what you picture when you think ‘Wild West’.

New Hampshire: Another small triangle.

New Jersey: I’m assuming this is not the Jersey in Jersey Shore, but I did for a long while. Somewhere on the East coast.

New Mexico: Cool flag, desert, cacti.

New York: Going by the name you’d assume New York city would be here, but I’ve been BURNT by Washington DC, so now I’m not sure, and Googling would defeat the purpose of this post. Skyscrapers and bagels.

North Carolina: ...It sure exisits?

North Dakota: Oil and unethical and unsafe, non-environment-friendly business practices re: said oil. 

Ohio: Gospel music? At least one big river.

Oklahoma: It’s also South and Cowboy Country. Country music?

Oregon:  HQ of that one dental equipment manufacturer, mountains... Is the Yellow Stone here?

Pennsylvania: Also small, also in the East, also like... exists.

Rhode Island: The smallest state.

South Carolina: ...South from North Carolina? I’ve got nothing.

South Dakota: I assume the Dakota live here, but other than that, I’ve got nothing. Probably still pretty cold.

Tennessee: Nashville is here, so... country music? State flag also sus.

Texas: Big. Guns. Big guns. Very Religion. Lotta cattle. Barbecue. I know it’s not as uniformly white and republican as its PR suggests, but that PR is Strong. Walmart?

Utah: Mormons, desert, mountains. A species of velociraptor got named after this.

Vermont: Its also small?

Virginia: Also Appallachia?

Washington: Definitely not where you’d expect it to be. Does not contain Washington DC. Sparkly vampires, probably cold and wet.

West Virginia: Appalachia. Counts as poor, mining industry, riots re: mining industry, country roads take you home here.

Wisconsin: Also very North, cold, lotta forest.

Wyoming: Ditto.

[brightbeautifulthings]

The Dead and the Dark by Courtney Gould

"'We know that spirits are made of unresolved pain that lingers somewhere between life and ... beyond. Theoretically, I'd say pain that leaves a deep enough impact--pain that kills a piece of a person--could leave ghosts, too. Ghosts are death, but maybe death can mean different things.'"

Year Read: 2021

Rating: 5/5

About: Teenagers are going missing in the small town of Snakebite, Oregon. Logan Ortiz-Woodley and her dads, hosts of the famous ghost-hunting show ParaSpectors, have arrived to investigate, but their welcome is hardly warm, and their history in Snakebite is fraught. Most everyone believes they had something to do with the disappearances, and Logan has to deal with their suspicions on top of the usual small town bigotry. Ashley Barton's boyfriend was the first to go missing, just days after Brandon Woodley arrived in Snakebite. Now his ghost is haunting her, and working with Logan might be the only chance she has to find him--alive or dead. The girls launch their own paranormal investigation, and what they find is a darkness that lurks at the heart of Snakebite, a darkness that may only just be getting started. I received a free e-ARC through NetGalley from the publishers at St. Martin’s Press. Trigger warnings: death/child death, drowning, severe injury, homophobia, hate crimes, slurs, threats, bullying, grief.

Thoughts: This is so much my kind of book, it's ridiculous. I love it so much; I'm not even sure where to start without descending into fangirl shrieking and incoherent rambling. I guess I'll start by making a list of my favorite things: strong family themes, good representation (mlm, wlw, poc), a delightful mystery, scorching social commentary, and a Gay Dads ghost hunting show that I fervently wish was a real thing. (Every Supernatural Destiel fan and I would watch the shit out of that.) There isn't a lot about the book that's overtly frightening, and I think Gould could have played up the haunting aspects a bit more instead of relying on a general sense of "wrongness" in the town, but it's still effective. In the tried and true tradition of horror, the humans are often a greater threat than the supernatural. More than the horror aspects, it was the mystery that kept me turning pages. Who or what is the Dark, and where will it strike next?

There's an excellent cast of characters, beginning with Logan, who's complex enough to take over whenever the action lags. She's a combination of sophisticated city girl and a kid who desperately wants her fathers to love her. Alejo is an absolute gem of friendliness, jokes, and solid advice. Brandon is distant and hard to read, and the strangeness between him and Logan characterizes much of their family relationship. Ashley is a little more run-of-the-mill, a big deal in her small town, who occasionally makes painful statements about how "people just aren't gay" in Snakebite. Fortunately, we have Logan there to call her on it, and Ashley probably sees the most personal growth of any of the characters. There are themes of family, grief, and self-discovery that all see excellent arcs.

The book is also a critique of homophobia and generalized bigotry found everywhere, but that seems to be especially concentrated in certain kinds of rural small towns. I'm way more afraid of an entitled white dude than I am of ghosts, frankly, and The Dead and the Dark has plenty to fear on both sides. The horror is expertly woven in with the social commentary, and while I don't want to get into spoiler territory, I love the direction Gould takes it. I love the way everything in the book is connected, and she pulls it all together for a tense and satisfying ending. Easily my favorite book of the year so far. If you liked Sawkill Girls, this is for you.

[sapphic-schizo]

still thinking about that girl who whined about brokeback mountain not having enough gay romance or whatever and said something about "homophobic southern states" like???? did u even watch the movie? it takes place in wyoming????? it's famously a western movie???? like i'm not even a big fan of the movie or anything but it kind of pisses me off when people talk about homophobia like it's something that only exists in ~the south~ or talk about the south like it's some scary foreign place where we store all the racists and homophobes without ever actually having been to the south. like conservative rural areas aren't exclusive to the south and places that people think of as super woke and friendly like Oregon and Washington are really only like that in the city if it weren't for the Willamette Valley Oregon would definitely be a red state sorry to burst your sheltered liberal bubbles.

[wakairyuu]

//OMG! my state (Oregon) has become the first state to add the 3rd gender to ID cards! People can mark X as their gender starting July 1st for people non-binary genders!