New York City Detective Lily Sparr is stunned when she is inexplicably moved to the very same precinct that once upon a time handled her own father’s murder. There, she is assigned to the case of a women’s motorcycle club which has been committing acts of violence all over the city. Despite missing her former partner, Miri, and fighting the ghosts of her past, Lily dedicates herself to the case, unaware that her own sister is mixed up in the swirl of violence and chaos.
After secretly reopening the file on her father’s death, Lily slowly unravels threads of history, discovering that both cases lead to corruption and betrayal at the highest levels.
Featuring an ensemble of characters as diverse as its New York City setting, Loud Pipes Save Lives is a thriller-mystery with a twist of queer representation.
This is author Jennifer Giacalone’s (@jen_giacalone on twitter) debut novel. Jennifer recently took 3rd Place in the Bucks County Short Fiction Contest with her short story, “Les Masques.”
I’d recommend watching Jaiden Animations newest video! It’s all about aromanticism and asexuality (mostly aromanticism) and I found myself relating to it an awful lot. It’s honestly so validating to see a person I’ve been watching content of for years come out as aroace and I feel seen for once. I think she explains the basics of it very well and tackles amatonormativity and some misconceptions. And I’m also really glad to see an aroace person clearly separate the aro from ace while validating both sides ngl. I hope all the allos watching her content will be educated lol
It’s been a long day, and looking back, David wants to blame what he says on the fact that he left one of the critical products in his nighttime skin care routine back at the motel and is therefore already out of sorts, because when Patrick climbs into bed with a sultry expression on his face the words slip out.
“Can we not do this tonight?”
Patrick freezes.
David feels a hot rush of shame, rushing to retract his words. “No, I didn’t mean, come here-”
“David, what’s wrong?” Patrick turns on the bedside lamp and studies David. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, I’m sorry,” David says, his heart racing. He pushes himself up and loops his arms around Patrick, leaning in for a kiss.
“David, wait, it’s okay.” Patrick disentangles them and gives David an appraising look. “Is it your head? Did you leave your contacts in too long? I’ll get you some ibuprofen.” He jumps out of bed before David can stop him, heading for the medicine cabinet.
David could take the out, swallow the pills and let Patrick pet his hair and hold him close. He could so easily have a headache, or a stomachache, or want to get to sleep early. But that’s not the real reason he doesn’t want to fool around.
Before you say it, Mom, I know. Dating can be difficult for everyone. It can be hard, opening yourself to someone like that. To be seen completely. To be heard. I do want that for myself. I want almost all of it. I want to hold hands and watch movies with someone. I want them to come home and tell me about their awesome day. I want them to wait for me while I jump off rooftops chasing down Lady Shiva. I want someone to share ice cream with after I get press-ganged onto a bananas immortality island murder tournament where I’m forced to fight a literal demon. I want to share myself. It’s just so hard, when sharing yourself is so often assumed to mean your body as well as your soul. Primarily your body. I understand why most people see sex and love as interchangeable. Society is composed of celebrations of the sexual aspect of love, it’s cacophonous. Which is what made this so hard to realize. Because when that… noise… is everywhere, it can be hard to hear the silence within yourself. Especially when everyone in the orchestra thinks your silence is… an aberration. Ruining their chorus. But this silence is me, and it has a beauty of its own.I’m asexual, Mom. And I’m proud of who I am, now that I can hear it.
CONNOR HAWKE in DC PRIDE (2022) story by Ro Stein and Ted Brandt
A couple weeks ago, Jaiden Animations on YouTube released a video titled “Being Not Straight,” in which she came out as asexual and aromantic. Instantly, my social media feeds were flooded with people saying that thanks to this video, they had realized that they too were ace, aro, or both.
Now, examples of aro/ace people in media – both real people and fictional characters – are still few and far between. Our representation appears infrequently enough that I’ve noticed how this flood of realization always, without fail, follows. When Todd on Bojack Horseman realized he was ace, so did many Bojack Horseman viewers. Same with Florence on Sex Education. When we see someone on screen learn what asexuality or aromanticism is, and the response is an overwhelming, “I just realized – me, too!”
I love this response, but it also makes me a bit wistful. Because it means we’re not there yet. Most people still don’t know that aromanticism and asexuality exist. They only get the opportunity to learn when it shows up, rarely, on TV or the internet. If we didn’t have these examples of aro/ace media representation, they might never learn.
I think the fearmongers will look at this trend of “character talks about their identity, and then people come out as that identity” and say something like, “This means that if we talk about queer stuff, then it will make my kids decide to be queer!” It’s the supposed logic behind all that legislation that bans discussions of gender and sexuality from classrooms – if we don’t talk about it, then it won’t exist.
But that’s not true. Knowing that queer people exist doesn’t “make” you do anything. It reveals that there are options. Media representation of queer people doesn’t make straight people “decide” to be queer. It gives queer people the opportunity to realize that they are queer, and it gives straight people the opportunity to learn that queer people exist. That’s all. And that “all” can make a world of difference.
There’s a joke that goes, “Before Mount Everest was discovered, what was the tallest mountain in the world?” The answer is, “Mount Everest – we just didn’t know it yet.” It’s better when we know.
I am rewatching Legend of the Sea Devils in celebration of Ncuti Gatwa being named 14th Doctor, and I came across this Asexual-confirming bit of monologue (Because the Doctor doesn’t do anything but monologue, even when in conversation) from Jodie Whittaker’s 13th:
Remember what I said earlier about not being a bad date? Well, it’s not really something I…do…you know? I mean, I used to, could do it, and if I was going to, believe me…it would be with you.
This is the most stab-me-in-the-heart moment I’ve ever had from Doctor Who, since the Angels ate Rory and Amy.
As much as Tom Baker will ALWAYS be my Doctor, I can fully IDENTIFY with Jodie Whittaker’s Doctor, with just that single quote…it’s painful.
