An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The flamboyant clothing he loves to wear onstage wouldn’t cause anyone to bat an eye on a pretty white boy, as Abbacchio put it - Bowie had been doing it for years, hadn’t he? - but on a masculine guy like Mista, a happy trail running down from the hem of his crop-top to the waistband of his skin-tight leather trousers brought terror to people’s faces rather than delight.
And he doesn’t give a shit - let’s make that abundantly clear. Guido Mista is passion, he’s a sensation, and he’s the king of the goddamn Italian underground music scene, and he won’t give anyone who doesn’t treat him as such his precious time.
the baddest bitch ever (i mean the writer) you wanna kill me just say it
