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I'm not Obsessed... I'm a Fangirl.

@karlee-fay-my-wayward-son / karlee-fay-my-wayward-son.tumblr.com

Karlee | 21 | Supernatural Trash
VanCon 2018
Karmily is canon.
The only real thing about me is my boobs.
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vaspider

Pete Buttigieg is just a faggot.

It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.

On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on.

I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'"

That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.

Never.

These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.

And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.

Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.

You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.

But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag.

That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died.

Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I'm a dyke, which seems to depend on who's yelling what from which window and what day it is.

Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they're the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They're the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word "dyke" in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don't fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.

Most cishets, though... well, they don't actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you're right there in front of them. Maybe they'll be okay with you, personally, especially if you're the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.

They need people to know that they don't have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You're useful.

But they call you by your deadname when you're not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won't put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.

I didn't want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he'd advocated for that tattoo being "over their assholes."

(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.

Fucker.)

But yeah. I didn't want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven't given up.

I need you to know that, too. This isn't a white flag. I'm not surrendering. This isn't over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.

But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept.

The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.

That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.

The brunch gays can come, too, I guess.

This. Especially with the online discourse in regards to a particular tik tok content creator that has been pushed off of the app due to queer creators dog piling and creating an environment that has been facilitating homophobia and transphobia simply because other queer creators thing they are "cringe" and "annoying"

I am absolutely OVER this fucking boot ticker mentality of "if I am palatable to the straights they wont hate me🥺” “if I also am homophobic, they will forget that I am also gay😔🙏🏻”

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

You, as a queer person, are doing more damage than the homophobes are. You, as a queer person, are letting them know, that not only do you condone their homophobia, but you agree. You, as a queer person, are letting every other queer person know that they are not safe with you. You, as a queer person, are letting everyone else in the community know that you will sell them out to the person that is oppressing the both of you.

Fuck you.

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Hi hello lets talk

So for those of you who are still here, still care, or have stumbled upon this lil ol blog of mine and have wondered where I've been, hello. This is for you. 

The last few years of my life have been insane. 

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This random ass guy made his way into the dressing room after Ariel’s performance, and while she is getting out of drag asks for a picture, and she was like “is he with you?” And I was like “you don’t know him?!?” 😂

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Anonymous asked:

Girl where’s part 13 of meet the Ackles?! Is the link not working at the end of part 12 or is it yet to be written, cant play me like this 😂 😘💖😘

I’m honestly written this part I think three times now, but I hated it each and every time. Then I decided to take a break from tumblr because it was getting too toxic for me, and I honestly can’t stand to be on the site for too long, I check up on any messages or anons I’ve received maybe once or twice a month.

I really want to get back into writing because I loved writing, and I definitely have the entire series mapped out in my head of where I want to go and how I want to get there, but this last year has just been so completely insane to me, and I really just don’t have the time anymore.

Like it is absolutely heartbreaking to me when I start seeing that I’m getting a bunch of notifications on the series, and seeing people enjoy it, because I know it’s not complete, and it makes me feel terrible.

But like I said, I’m slowly trying to get back on here, but each time I do, I’m met with a lot of bullshit.

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Anonymous asked:

Ariel is a racist annoying little bitch and you need to get your head out of your ass and stop being a dumb annoying Stan.

🙄🙄🙄

First, stop it.

Second, you need to get the fuck off of reddit. That’s not at all who she is, and all that shit has been taken out of fucking context.

Third, you’ve only seen her on TV, and maybe met her for two seconds at dragcon. I know her and have hung out with her multiple times, you probably have not. So knock it the fuck off.

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Fist of all I just want to say that that’s really great, that’s not an easy feat. How do you do it? How do you stay clean? I don’t think I’ve been clean for more than two months since I started a few years ago. Do you distract yourself? Focus on other things?

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TW: Self harm, cutting

For me, there’s four things that helped the most:

The first, getting my tattoo. I got it when I had been clean for about 6 months and it was like my reward, and I got it on top of where I use to cut. I didn’t want to ruin the tattoo, and it was a reminder of ‘I did this, I made it’ as much as it was a deterrent from keeping myself from self harming.

Second was setting a counter on my phone. Each day at midnight it would remind me how many days I had been clean for. I didn’t want to have to reset the counter, which encouraged me. It would also let me know in my hardest times how far I had come.

Third, and kind of the most embarrassing for me, was letting other people know and having them keep me clean. I told my therapist, never lying to her about when I would cut and letting her know if I did or had urges. Also, I let my roommates know what I was going through. They were all respectful enough to never bring it up to me or talk about it until I talked about it first. I also told my parents about it. Granted, I live 1,000 miles away from them and there wasn’t anything they could do, but having there support meant a lot. One of my friends had found out because he saw my scars, and he kept me accountable. He’d ask me how I was doing, if I became a little distant, he’d check up on me, and he’d point blank ask me if I was being good. He was also the one that helped me get rid of all my razors, we taped them up, attached them to balloons, and let them go.

And lastly, pin pointing exactly why I was cutting. Part of the reason I was cutting was because I was taught to not show my emotions, so forcing myself to shut down made me not feel anything, and cutting helped me feel. So I stopped choking down my emotions. If I felt sad, I’d let myself cry. If I was angry, I’d go outside and smash Christmas ordaments I bought from the dollar store. I let myself feel whatever I was feeling, and reminded myself that I was valid. Another reason was because in my head I felt like I didn’t deserve to be depressed or sad because on the surface, I seemed to have a pretty good life, so having actual physical pain and scars justified how I was feeling. So again, I had to remind myself, my depression is justified, my anxiety is justified. There is a reason I feel the way I do and it’s justified, and I didn’t need a physical manifestation. And the last main reason I self harmed was because I hated myself. I had zero self confidence, and thought terribly about myself. And to this, every night before I went to bed, I wrote down three different things I loved about myself and was proud of myself for doing. At first the lists were hard, but slowly they became easier, and I allowed myself to become cocky. I let myself look in the mirror and go “you know what? You are a bad ass sexy mother fucker, and fuck anyone that thinks otherwise.” I had to remind myself that I was amazing and wonderful everyday until it became second nature to believe.

TL; DR: Anyway, those are just things that worked for me. My tattoo, a counter, telling people my struggle, and identifying why I felt the need to cut and fixing that within myself

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I’m a super dork but I talking to a friend about the best fics that we’ve ever read and Meet The Ackles was one of my all time favourites. But I couldn’t remember who wrote it. So I just spent like ten minutes googling different combinations of words until I found it. You’re awesome, thank you for writing!

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Oh my god this is so funny and totally put a smile on my face 😂 thank you 💕💕💕

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Anonymous asked:

Omg so are you excited about Ariel being on drag race?

I so am!

I fucking love that bitch and I am so proud of her, I’m just fucking over how much shit she’s getting, the flip flop fans, and the blatant lies being spread about her.

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Anonymous asked:

No idea if this blog is even still active (I’m on mobile, on my browser which sucks) but my name is also Karlee & I’m 21 and I just thought that was cool so 😂

Lol I am kind of. I was just over all the assholes on here, so I’m not on here too often.

But werk bitch

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Anonymous asked:

Wait? You know Evah Destruction too?

Yeah! Kind of. I met her Saturday after one of her shows, then Sunday Evah, Ariel, a couple other people and I did an escape room together (which fuck yeah we beat), then we got food after. She was really cool and nice, we bonded over conservative homophobic relatives, Disney movies, and our love for doctor pimple popper, and the satisfaction of watching a clean cut black head emerging from the pore.

Anyway, she’s really fucking cool, and a great performer, so if you can go see her do it.

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Anonymous asked:

Ariel Versace is a fucking bitch and idk why you idolize her so much.

Go the fuck away.

I love her to fucking pieces.

She is so sweet.

She is super fucking dope.

And she’s like one of my favorite people on earth so you can just sashay away.

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