Fairy tale tropes for a midwestern gothic are tantalizingly familiar, and when I think of home I see them all, their archetypes and allegories, characters we connect with in a malaise not beyond a garden wall, but right here, with us— in a place of enervated belief and heuristic magic.
Queer sex is not like straight sex. I don't mean the body-mechanics of it, necessarily, I mean the everything else of it. The emotion, the impetus, the follow-through, the mathematics. Queer sex is just different (and better!).
This is the year I'm choosing love, so I guess that goes for myself as well. Hail, Mary, hale and weal, it's time to forgive myself.
It's time we stop victim-blaming the Eight of Swords, y'all.
The Universe has given us a Martian ℞ — taken once per night, preferably with lots of water, and we still have half a bottle left to swallow. Consider another way to fight, friends.