Hopping Against Homo/Trans*phobia with Daniel Radcliffe

Hopping against Homo/Trans*phobia with Daniel Radcliffe.

Friday Flash: Rue & Woe-Part Two

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I almost let Bobby Matthews take my virginity today.

Rue looked at the words on his LiveJournal blog. He kinda couldn't believe he'd actually written them, but then again, he kinda couldn't believe he'd let Bobby get him naked and pin him to the guestroom bed in Bobby's mother's boyfriend's condo. Bobby wasn’t scary like the other guy who’d tried to get in Rue’s pants. He had nice strong hands but he used them gently and he’d kissed the side of Rue’s neck until all Rue could do was shiver and moan and writhe against the plum colored duvet on the plush, king-sized bed and wish Bobby would reach around his waist and just touch him one time.

Just once, cause that’s all it would take and then Rue woulda been screaming and shooting his spunk all over the covers. Probably best they hadn’t done that, cause Rue was pretty sure that woulda left a stain on the duvet, and then Bobby woulda had to explain and then Rue’s mom woulda got a “concerned” phone call and shit… it woulda been shit, because even though Bobby’s hands stroked Rue’s skin just right, and even though his kisses were hot slick perfection he wasn’t Woe.

Rue was holding out for Woe.

I’m glad he forgot to warm the lube up, cause the cold stuff hitting my ass snapped me outta the crazy sex-spell he’d put me under and shut my little head up long enough for my big head to get a word in edgewise… and trust me, that fucker was screaming for me to get the fuck up off the bed and not piss Bobby off and wondering how the fuck I got myself into that position in the first place—

“Rue, hon, it’s time for dinner.” His mom’s voice echoed cheerily up the stairs. Rue minimized his screen in a panic before he remembered that he’d locked his door before he started trying to put his thoughts into words.

“Uh, yeah, ma, I’ll be right there.” Rue walked over to the door, unlocked it and cracked it open before shouting.  Pushing it shut behind him he moved back to his desk, maximized the LiveJournal screen and then went about the process of saving his entry as a draft before he signed out of his account. He’d finish up later on tonight. Like maybe after his mom was asleep. Writing about what he’d done today with Bobby… well, he just didn’t really want to deal with his mom tapping on his door while he was using his fist to stroke himself and pretending he’d been with Woe instead and everything had been perfect.

Um, eww.

“Rue, get off that computer and get down here right now.” Rue could hear the exasperation in his mom’s voice. He winced, because she really hated hollering from the foot of the stairs, and this was gonna cost him at least an hour of playing some stupid board game or several hands of Uno before his mom felt like they’d “connected” enough. He gave an exaggerated all over body shiver, and powered down his laptop.

Holy crap, parents could be so demanding.

Rue pounded down the stairs, swung around the corner, fell through the kitchen doorway and collapsed into his chair. His mother turned from the stove, one sleek black eyebrow rising toward her hairline and transforming her expression into a classic look of loving disapproval. “Could you maybe walk down the stairs next time there, sir?”

A sheepish grin crept across Rue’s face as he straightened in his seat. “Sure, ma. Sorry.”

His mom’s smile softened her face back into being simply loving. “Okay. I just would like to have a few more years to get the current mortgage paid down before I have to take out a new one to repair all the things you’ve broken by rampaging around like a bull in a china shop.”

Rue blinked at his mom. “Really ma? A bull in a china shop?”

His mom laughed, little smile lines creasing the corners of her eyes. She pulled open the dish cabinet door and took down two plates. “I made Chicken Alfredo.”

Rue’s stomach growled. “Is that what smells so good?” He moaned in happiness. God, he loved his mom’s Chicken Alfredo. She made it with fresh basil and garlic and when she plated it up sprinkled shredded mozzarella and parmesan cheese over the top. She sometimes put slices of ripe plum tomatoes along the edges. Rue moaned again. His mom snorted. “Hang tough over there, son. Sustenance is nearly yours.”

Then she was setting the plates down, and she’d put the tomatoes on and—God, sometimes Rue remembered just how good he had it. He wanted to talk to her because he’d always told her everything, but this was really private stuff. And he didn’t want to get Bobby in trouble. And he paid attention in health class and he knew all about STD’s and even if Bobby had remembered to warm the lube and he’d given it up this afternoon he was pretty sure he’d have remembered to make Bobby put a condom on.

Maybe.

But who could he talk to about—

Thirteen more days. Really just twelve and a wake-up, and then Woe would be home and he could ask him. Rue knew Woe would give it to him straight—

He snickered, then looked up from his plate, fork hanging from his hand in mid-air, and shook his head at his mom. “Nothing. Sorry.”

She quirked that eyebrow at him again, but didn’t say anything, seeming content to just eat in silence. Rue thanked every star in the heavens for that, cause he really didn’t think he was capable of holding a decent conversation right now. He’d been unable to stop the snicker when he realized how dirty Woe giving it to him straight sounded… and oh, god he was getting a boner at the table with his mom sitting right there.

Rue’s face turned bright red.

“Hon, are you okay? I didn’t put anything really spicy in the Alfredo this time, I promise.” His mom’s mouth was turning down at the corners. He couldn’t stand to see that look on her face. She was so tired most of the time, and even though she told him all the time how much she loved both her jobs Rue didn’t want to add even a little bit to that burden. Not if he could help it. “Ah. No. Just thought of something real embarrassing—and no, before you ask, I don’t wanna talk about it. Not ever. Not. Ever.”

Thankfully his mom took him at his word, letting the topic drop. By the time she served sliced pears for dessert, his other issue had ceased rearing its ugly head too. Not that Rue really thought LBR (little big Rue) had an ugly head, but he was very happy he could get up from the table without the grossness of his mom seeing him with a hard-on.

Geez.

He was pretty sure they’d both be scarred for life.

Welcoming C.Z. Collins to Tales of Rue and Woe

Cherie: CZ why do you think your reviews will appeal to pre-teen and teenage YA readers?


CZ: I tell them upfront what I like and dislike about the book, and why.

Cherie: What do you think makes you specially qualified to review books for this age group?

CZ: I myself am in this age group, and am very well read.

Cherie: Do you have any fun facts about yourself you want to share with the readers? 

CZ: Well, I read about a thousand books a year, and  I like sing show-tunes utilizing only the word: Eggplant.

Cherie: Well. That's ... very interesting. *waggles eyebrows*

Thanks for joining us today. We look forward to your reviews in the future.

A Point of Interest: The Raven's Crossing

A couple of friends have started up something interesting. Get on over to The Raven's Crossing and check it out.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Ravens-Crossing/376822459000007?sk=wall
or http://www.theravenscrossing.org/
Good stuff and they are amazing writers.

Transgender Remembrance Day

http://www.transgenderdor.org/

Hey there.
Did anyone ever tell you that sometimes people are born into the wrong body? It happens. It happens and for the ones it happens to there can seem to be no safe harbor. I imagine what being in a world so very wrong that simply taking a pee felt like cutting my heart out--because I had to do it with the wrong parts and in the wrong bathroom--screaming soundlessly as people around me constantly called me by the wrong pronoun and the weight of the whole flipping world crushed down on me...

I don't live there.

But someone I love does, and his journey has been impossibly hard and dangerous. In fact, I can scarcely believe he has made it so far in his journey. He tried to stop the world and get off not so very long ago.
my heart aches to write those words
He barely made it here to my home. I have so little to give to my brother, but what I do have? Is his. We're family, and families, one's worthy of the name whether they be families born or families chosen love and protect and support. Full stop.

So today?
If you know somewhere in your heart that you are in the wrong body?
Or even if you're just questioning your truth?
I've got a few things to say to you, baby.

Stay safe.
I mean when you play (and you older teens know exactly what I mean) use protection.
If the place you're in feels unsafe, get the hell out.
Find someone --and baby, they're out there--who will love and support you just as you are.
Get informed.
There are resources.
There are doctors and friends and support groups.
You don't have to tell anybody your truth until YOU are ready to.
And baby, please don't until you know you have a safe harbor.
I'm gonna leave a list of places that should be able to help you.
Just remember that people *yes, every damn one of us* are foolish sometimes. Scared by what we don't understand and needlessly hurtful toward what we fear.

So if you reach out for help and the straight person you ask rejects you--shame on them, baby, not you.
If you reach out for help, and the LGBTQQ person you ask rejects you--shame on them, never ever on you.
The second should damn well know better.
Keep reaching.
There are folk who will help.
There is information out here for you.
Who you are is who you are and it's more than okay, it's beautiful.
I'll get off my preaching platform now, and put up the list of resources...and tell you that if you can't find something to help you, if you'll just drop me a line I will try to find someone who can help you. A resource you can use, and if I can, a number you can dial.
And if you know a good resource, please leave a link to it in your reply. Cause someone else may need that info to save their life.

That's all.
Except to tell you that one day?
Transgender Remembrance Day will be a day to celebrate, not one to mourn.

Information:
A blog post by someone who has walked in the same brand of shoes as you.
http://supermattachine.wordpress.com/

A list of resources by my TwitterPal, Brandon Shire:
http://brandonshire.com/lgbt-youth-organizations/

And of course, The Trevor Project. 
http://www.thetrevorproject.org/

I will look for more resources. And remember, if you find them, I'd love to hear about them here so I can share them with whoever stumbles into this little corner of acceptance.

Be brave.
Reach out for acceptance and understanding.
I promise it's out there.
I know it's here on this blog.
And I know you can carve a place out for yourself in this crazy world.
My brother did.

Something to Think About When Words Fly From Your Fingers to the Page

Write, for the night is coming, babies.

Write, for the life you uplift may be your own.

Write, for the joy you give may never be known to you,  yet may be the world to another lost soul.

Write, write, write.

The words may never mean a thing.

They may touch the hearts of a thousand generations.

Write because you must, and write because you can.

Write about what you know and write about what you long to learn.

And babies?

Take a kiss from me, and know you have shelter here in my Writing Cave.
If you stop in and I'm not home?
Relax.
Light the fire.
Make yourself a drink *I have all your favorite brands of pop and such, lol* or brew up a little gourmet java.

I only ever ask that you play nicely.
If you don't?
I'll be disappointed.
I'll wonder why you waste your time being mean.
I'll reach out to those you seek to harm and drawn them into my fold of friends, and baby, we are legion.

So write a rainbow for yourself today.
Write a bird on the wing.
Write a happy ending to your own sad story.

And laugh, babies, laugh for joy.

It's what I'm going to do.

This Needed Saying Twice.

Raging at Specters and Hobgoblins

Raging at Specters and Hobgoblins

When will the world spin at a better angle?

I'm so hellishly tired of hearing stories of wonderful young people taking their lives.

And I fucking loathe trying to write through a veil of tears.

Don't you do it.

Not a single fucking one of you.

Don't you dare take your life.

You get on a damn phone and call somebody.

Get on a computer and throw out a line, baby.

Someone will pick it up.

It does fucking get better.

I know.
I know.
I used to be right where you are.
I cut.
I did all kinds of shit.
And somehow I hung on and it fucking got better.
Please, please don't give up.
Don't leave us all here, with giant YOU shaped holes in our chests, bleeding all over the fucking world because you didn't just say to us look at me. I'm being sliced to ribbons inside.
Say those things.
There's not a chance you'll go unanswered.
Somebody cares.
I care.
Dammit, don't you dare.
Cause if you do?
You'll break so many hearts.
You'll break them in ways that will never heal cleanly, baby.

We will miss you.
And I'll be mopping my heart's blood up off my fucking floor for years dammit.
You're another friend I didn't get to have, and another bright place in the world gone dark.

And my heart fucking hurts.