angel bar

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“Angel Shots” aim to help women protect themselves from potentially dangerous dates

  • One Florida restaurant is taking bad dates into its own hands. 
  • St. Petersburg The Iberian Rooster has developed the “Angel Shot,” an off-menu special created for women to order when they’re in need of an escape or safe escort from a potentially dangerous situation.
  • The Angel Shot isn’t actually a drink that will be shaken up, but rather a code to alert the bartender that the woman ordering it needs some help.
  • A sign posted in the women’s restrooms, which has since been seen on multiple Instagram and social media accounts, gives instructions to women who may feel unsafe or uncomfortable in the company of a strange date. Read more
An Angel Opened The Gates Of Hell

She entered the bar in a tight black dress
Fishnet tights and blood red lips
Eyeing her victim, his mouth to the bottle
Watching her sway her hypnotic hips

She leaned over the table adjacent to him
And he blew at her thick smokey rings
“Hey, can you take off your clothes for me?
I want to see how an angel hides her wings”

She flashed a devil’s grin and whispered
“Not here,” and turned to leave to lounge
He followed with a stumbling gait
Behind the building grounds

She lead him into the nearby woods
“Where we going, angel?” He bumbled
“Not too far now, take my hand”
She gripped it as the earth ahead crumbled

He didn’t process the stairs descending
From the newly existing hole
The woman pulled him down toothy stairs
Smelling the burning of coal

She sighed, “I’m ready to undress now”
And watched his eyes lose focus
Around her neck hung a rose red key
“Tonight,” she teased, “You’ve been chosen”

Emerged in flames a huge metal gate
“You’re no angel,” the man slurred at the woman
The gates screeched as they opened slowly
She answered, “No, and this isn’t heaven”

This poem was inspired by going through the blog of @gorgorygmus, who used my prompt, effete. Check out the poem, and the power given to that word! And I loved that alliteration ❤

If you’d like me to write a poem based on what I see on your blog, use the prompt: effete, in a poem and either tag me or message me to let me know!

While the police frequently harassed butch-looking women on the streets, the worst police harassment took place inside the gay bars. In many cities, as long as a bar owner was willing to pay for police protection, the bars seemed relatively safe—unless it was close to an election period in which the incumbent felt compelled to “clean up” the gay bars for the sake of his record. During those times raids were frequent. The bars sometimes took precautions against raids. At the Canyon Club in Los Angeles, a membership bar patronized by both gay men and gay women, dancing would be permitted only in the upstairs room. If the police appeared at the door, a red light would be flashed upstairs and the same-sex partners on the dance floor would know to grab someone of the opposite sex quickly and continue dancing…

A bar raid during the 1950s or ’60s could be violent. Marlene says that in San Francisco during the early 1950s the raiding police were accompanied by police dogs. In a 1956 raid at the San Francisco bar Kelly’s Alamo Club, thirty-six women were hauled into the city jail and booked on the charge of “frequenting a house of ill repute.” D.F. remembers a Los Angeles raid in which all the patrons’ names were collected and everyone was made to strip and was searched. At raids in the Sea Colony, a Greenwich Village bar, women would be pushed up against the wall and the policemen might put their hands in the women’s pants and say, “Oh, you think you’re a man. Well, let’s see what you’ve got here.”
—  Lillian Faderman, Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth-Century America
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a reemergence of angel au featuring CT this time. wings of an american kestrel (I really should do turnarounds so you can see the outer wing feathers…so much nicer looking..) 

anyway her armor resembles church’s, carolina’s, and tex’s with the roman-ish theme (basically just the tassels in CT’s case) b/c they are her favs, along w/ the more heavy armor feel that pairs with Wash since they’re friends. birds of a feather and all that

i.
fallen angels treading softly down main streets, eyes wide at the neon glow that surrounds the creatures of this earth. fallen angels buying drinks with the ease of a foreigner, hands aflutter with unfamiliar currency. fallen angels getting drunk in alleyways just trying to numb the pain of losing their wings. fallen angels getting into bar fights to protect those weaker than them, because isn’t this what god wanted us to do?

ii.
fallen angels in small towns, wandering country lanes at night in some attempt to get closer to where they once were. fallen angels quietly disguising themselves as repairmen and fixing things that no human could fix, because these small helpless beings don’t have much.

iii.
fallen angels finding lost children on streets and in shopping centers, and using what little power they have left to bring them back home. fallen angels taking care of stray cats because they are similar of soul and mind and cannot bear to see the small, kind creatures suffer. fallen angels blessing the homeless so they may find shelter and warmth and something to eat.

iv.
fallen angels who are angry and fight for money, snarling at the humans who come to watch the brawls, because they know the weak points of this fragile species. fallen angels who curse at the sky, livid because they were cast down and abandoned. fallen angels sharpening their fingernails and going after criminals in the dark, because they have conscience enough not to kill the innocent.

fallen angels, who cannot, no matter their anger, become wholly cold hearted. // r.h.