#cw religious homophobia

[theoneandonlythorn]

quick TW before we begin for religious trauma, homophobia from church leaders and swearing.

Ugh......

So, I was raised Mormon; my family's been in the "religion" for generations. (Tracing back to the main man, Joseph Smith, himself) I'm also demifluid and most certainly not straight.

When I came out to my church leader, he...wasn't very happy. TL;DR, I'm banned from the religion's holy place, my job in the church ward and basically banned from church altogether. My mom was there during the whole shitshow and she agreed that I didn't have to go to church if I didn't want to.

Of course I didn't wanna go back!! Who would??? My family and I moved last week, meaning hooray, a ~new church congregation~ The people are...nice. I guess. They could always be worse, after all. But I've been hurt an ungodsly amount of times. I've begged my mom to not make me go to church, but she said "I should give it a try."

I've been trying for YEARS. Fucking years. When you're a kid, you're told you'll feel a "warm fuzzy feeling" when the "spirit" is near. I never felt that. I've never had a moment of "spiritual revelation", but believe me, I've fucking tried.

I have autism, so I've always been literal. If I can see something, I'll believe it. Baby Thorne always thought that one day when the world is ending, I'd feel it and have a huge "Oh my gods, heaven is real!" (Side note, the idea of the "Second Coming" always gave me so much anxiety as a kid. Like, from an early age you're told that the world is ending at some point in your life because it's "the eNd TiMeS!")

Anyway, I have an awesome therapist who's helping me with gender dysphoria and also good old ~religious trauma~ When you're growing up, you're told that church is the most wonderful place ever and you'll never be hurt. Ha ha ha.

no.

I was bullied at church by all the other kids from the ages of eleven to thirteen-fourteen. As you can imagine, that kind of fucks you up.

My therapist gave me a pass from church on the basis that "If I had a spiritual experience, I'd probably have a complete breakdown due to cognitive dissonance."

...but according to my mom, she knows better. I've begged my mom to stop forcing me to church, but no luck. I need to ask him (my therapist) if he'll tell my mom that I really truly shouldn't go to church.

So, long story short, does anyone know how to get excommunicated from the Mormon church? (Personally, I don't want to murder someone in order to get out of this shitty cult, but most other ideas are free game)

The rest of my family is in this church (cult, more like), so telling my siblings that I've lost my faith (never had it in the first place) is kind of out of the question.

[libingan]

— temptations.

warnings: non-penetrative say gex, internalized homophobia, religious guilt and stuff, angst

a/n: im suck ASS at writing angst, but ive had this thought in my head for DAYS now so i decided to finally write it!!! thinking of adding a part two, but that depends on how many of yall will eat this shit up LMAO

pls forgive me if its bad im dogshit and writing but like non of my irls are interested in this shit HAHSWHSA i mean, we play call of duty mobile, but thats it, they dont care much abr the lore

commander phillip graves was a man of iron discipline and unyielding principles. he thrived on control, finding solace in the regimented life of the military. his stern demeanor and sharp gaze commanded respect and fear in equal measure. he was a man who believed in strength, in the rigidity of rules, in the necessity of keeping emotions tightly leashed. vulnerability was a weakness he could not afford, and he had built his entire life on that foundation. his devout upbringing and the stern teachings of his father had instilled in him a strict moral code, one that left no room for deviation or indulgence in forbidden desires.

yet, beneath the steel exterior, a single, forbidden desire gnawed at the edges of his sanity: his feelings for one of his soldiers.

you.

every time he saw you, his pulse quickened, his breath caught. self-loathing twisted in his gut. how could he, a man of iron principles, be so weak? love was a dangerous distraction, and love between men was an unspoken abomination. the teachings of his faith haunted him, whispers of sin and eternal damnation echoing in his mind. his father's voice, a specter of disdain and disappointment, reverberated alongside: "men like that are disgraceful." graves had built his life on those beliefs, constructing walls around his heart to keep out anything that might expose his vulnerabilities.

but you shattered those walls effortlessly. your strength, your determination, your unwavering loyalty—it was everything he admired in a soldier, everything he could never accept in himself. graves clenched his fists until his knuckles were white, willing himself to get a grip. he could not afford to lose control.

yet when you came to him that night, seeking guidance, seeking solace, something inside him snapped. the iron walls he had built around his heart crumbled, and in a moment of devastating weakness, he let himself feel.

you stood there, looking up at him with those eyes that had haunted his dreams. he couldn't resist any longer. with a trembling hand, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. the warmth of your skin sent a shiver down his spine. before he could stop himself, he pulled you close, his lips crashing into yours with a desperation that bordered on madness.

he poured all his suppressed emotions into that kiss, every ounce of his forbidden longing, his guilt, his shame. his hands roamed over your back, pulling you tighter against him, needing to feel your warmth, to drown out the voices of condemnation in his head. the room seemed to spin around him, the world narrowing down to the intoxicating sensation of your lips against his.

“sir,” you gasped against his lips, “can’t… not with... the door... open.”

a feral growl rumbled in phillip’s chest. he broke the kiss momentarily, his breath hot and ragged against your face. with a fierce, almost primal urgency, he grabbed your arm and pulled you inside his quarters. the door slammed shut behind you, the finality of the action echoing in the quiet room.

he guided you swiftly to his bed, his grip insistent and firm. as he pushed you down onto the mattress, his eyes burned with a conflicted mixture of desire and frustration. the room was charged with a palpable tension, every movement driven by a need to assert control and escape his inner turmoil.

after slamming the door shut and pushing you onto the bed, phillip’s voice was rough, almost breaking with the intensity of his struggle. “i need you so damn bad,” he growled, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and torment. “but if anyone knew… if they found out, i’d be sent straight to hell.”

as he looked down at you, his breath catching at the sight of you beneath him—eyes wide and lips slightly parted—the thoughts of damnation and guilt evaporated. the sight of you in such a vulnerable state ignited an overwhelming, burning need within him. he couldn’t think of anything else but the urgent, consuming desire to be with you.

“fucking damnit,” he curses, hands sliding down your body until they reach your hips. phillip’s gaze darkened with desire, wrapping your legs around his waist, crotch pressed up against your own. a low hiss escapes him at the contact and he shoves his head into the crook of your neck to hide his pleasured expression, inhaling your masculine scent.

he tried desperately to imagine that he was touching a woman, hoping it might help him regain control. but as the thought lingered, he found it completely unarousing. the fantasy fell flat, failing to spark any desire. the only thing that stirred his pulse was the undeniable reality of you beneath him, your warmth and vulnerability making every shred of restraint and control dissolve into nothingness.

slowly, phillip began to rock his hips against yours, his movements deliberate and measured. he could feel the tension in your body, the way you responded to each shift. he savored the needy, high-pitched whine that escaped your lips, a sound that drove him wild with desire. the rhythmic motion between you became a shared, intoxicating dance, and with every whimper you gave, his own need only deepened. “f-feels so damn good,” he mutters through gritted teeth, soft grunts filling your ears.

phillip pulls away momentarily to make quick work of unbuttoning his and your jeans, pulling out both of your cocks from its confines. he swallows the lump that forms in his throat at the sight of your body, still fully clothed aside from your…

phillip’s gut churned with a volatile mix of disgust and arousal at the thought. his blue eyes locked with yours, a stark reminder of the gravity of your situation. he was about to call it off and throw you out, but when you wrapped your legs around him, pulling his hips down and pressing the most intimate parts of yourselves together, his mind went hazy and lost all clarity.

“oh, god…” you moan, and phillip feels a surge of conflicted anger and desire. he has half a mind to reprimand you for invoking His name in this chaotic moment. but as he feels the heat of your body pressed against his, the anger fades into a raw, uncontrollable need. his grip tightens, and he’s consumed by the relentless desire to be closer, to lose himself completely in the moment.

instead, he begins thrusting, maintaining his slow and steady pace from before.

and, fuck… it feels so much better. phillip struggled to contain the noises threatening to escape him, rubbing your cocks together as if his life depended on it.

you were lost in the moment, every sensation magnified and overwhelming. the way phillip moved against you sent waves of pleasure through your body, each thrust and press igniting a deep, euphoric ache. you moaned softly, your senses completely absorbed by the intense heat and friction between you. each touch, each shift brought you closer to the edge, your body arching and shifting in response to the overwhelming pleasure. you couldn’t help but surrender completely to the feeling, your mind blanking out as you rode the exhilarating tide of desire.

“i-i’m—i’m close…” you whisper, hands clawing at phillip’s back, clutching tightly at the fabric of his shirt. he only grunts in response, hips stuttering as he feels his own orgasm bubbling within.

phillip keeps his head buried against your shoulder, unable to bring himself to look at you. the shame of indulging in such debauchery is overwhelming enough, and the thought of seeing you reveling in the pleasure only deepens his guilt. he’s desperate to avoid the sight of your enjoyment, fearing that it will amplify his already unbearable self-loathing. his focus remains fixed on the intense sensations, trying to block out the reality of what’s happening and the torment of his own conscience.

despite his inner conflict, he could not help overwhelming tide of pleasure surging through him. he could sense the moment building, an intense and uncontrollable wave of sensation. as the pleasure reached its peak, his grip tightened, and he released a ragged breath against your shoulder, the crescendo of his desire manifesting in a shuddering release. the experience was both consuming and disorienting, leaving him breathless and momentarily lost in the overwhelming intensity. your body responded instinctively, arching and trembling as you reached the peak of your desire. the intensity of the moment left you breathless, your cries mingling with the rhythm of phillip’s movements.

afterward, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, a storm raging in his mind. what had he done? what kind of man had he become? he had betrayed his principles, his honor, everything he stood for. he turned to look at you, your face peaceful in the dim light, and fury surged through him—not at you, but at himself. how could he have allowed this to happen?

“get out,” he said, his voice trembling with barely restrained anger.

you stirred, confusion clouding your features. “sir?”

“i said get out,” he repeated, his tone as cold as a winter’s morning. “this was a mistake, and it won’t happen again. and if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, you’ll be wishin’ you hadn’t.”

you stood, pain flashing in your eyes, but you didn't argue. you knew better than to challenge him when he was like this. you gathered your things and left, the door closing softly behind you.

you quickly fixed yourself up, the weight of his words heavy in the air. with one last, pained glance at him, you turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind you.

phillip sank onto the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands. the room felt oppressively quiet, every corner echoing with the aftermath of what had just happened. the intensity of his emotions left him numb, and he struggled to reconcile the fierce desire he’d felt with the crushing guilt that now consumed him. he stared at the floor, haunted by the memory of your face, his faith, and his father’s voice insulting him for the man he grew up to be.

after a long, agonizing moment, he shakily reached for the small wooden table beside his bed. with trembling hands, he picked up an old, worn Bible and a rosary that lay beside it. clutching them tightly, he buried his face in the pages of the Bible, his lips moving silently in desperate, fervent prayer. the rosary dangled from his fingers as he sought solace, trying to find some measure of peace and forgiveness amidst the chaos of his own making.

[turtleteched]

"angel" - ds. 2024.

alternative title: what dadt does to a motherfucker fr

thing i made a while ago about masculinity and queerness and religion and the military. writing by me, images from top gun 1986/various navy ads. click for better quality :3

rbs okay and appreciated!!

full poem right here ⬇️

[0-angelfang-0]

Thinking about queer trans Catholic kurt and how he would look in the mirror, wishing he would stop thinking all these "horrible throughs" about being born a man because God made you the way he wanted why would you go against that ? Just thinking about how he would look at someone of the same gender and long to hold them to feel what true love feels like but again that goes against everything he has ever been taught and kurt loves God just as much as the people he considers family so going against God is like stabing his best friend in the back . Thinking about how long it probably took for him to un learn all that self hatred he has to learn not only how to love himself but to learn how to love life

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Y'ALL you know how Gay Dads AU (prior to them becoming Gay Dads) is just basically. Comic boys in the Regular Real Human World Modern AU? I have a lot of ideas about this some of which I expressed before but like

Ballister as the nerdy jock and Ambrosius as the theater jock (the other jocks try to bully them but soon realize that this science nerd and theatre kid are Better Jocks Than Them and can beat them up)

Ambrosius as an orphan??? In foster care??? With the repressive religions DIRECTOR as a foster mother??? Dealing w internalized homophobia from existing in the predominantly evangelical foster system as many foster kids often do??? Not allowing her to adopt him when she tries thereby rejecting the thing he wanted most (parents) and escaping that system to find genuine happiness with Ballister!? Yense please

The boys going to college together??? Biochem Engineering major Blackheart and Musical Theater major Ambrosius???

Blitzmeyer is Ballister's best friend he met in college!?!?!?

Ambrosius coming to help Ballister with his lab projects and Ballister going to all of his shows????

Getting in a car accident because Ambrosius wasn't paying attention because they were having an argument and Ballister LOSING HIS ARM!?!?!?

I'm losing my mind at all the possibilities

[whumpbug]

you know what i need more gene and cassidy physical contact rn actually…..don’t care they can be at each other’s throats i just need it (shaking them in a little jar that is my mind)

HI MELLO i wanted to make this into a fic so. here you go. it was originally going to be a silly fluff fic but then the Voices (lem) gave me an idea and i ran with it.

i was literally Sad writing this. gene is in the trenches, the TRENCHES i say. its so bad. you get small, but meaningful physical touches and Angst.

DISCLAIMER: this is set like. a little earlier in their relationship. this is meant to be The moment that gene started realizing he perhaps Wanted this man. i'll make a timeline at some point bc the stuff i've written is not in order IM SORRY GUYS

cw: drunkenness, period-typical homphobia, internalized homphobia

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“No. No. Y’get away from me, Deputy Dipshit. Not today.” Cassidy slurred. “You ain't takin’ me away.”

He nearly fell off of the barstool when he turned to shoved an indignant finger in Gene’s direction, catching himself on the side of the counter with a small “woah!”

Gene narrowed his eyes. “Did you just call me Deputy Dipshit?”

Cassidy suddenly let out a loud snort and, this time, really did fall off the barstool with a solid thump. He only kept cackling and clutching his sides.

“Deputy Dipshit!” He cried, breaking out into another round of laughter.

“I really am sorry to bother you Delaney,” Mr. Stetson, the bartender, began. “But he was causin’ some problems and pickin’ fights. Can’t have that in my saloon.”

“Of course, sir. I understand. I’ll take care of it.”

Gene sighed.

“No! Don’t you take one step closer Delaney, I ain’t going with’ya!”

Gene took a step closer. “I ain’t gonna arrest you, Silver. Just gonna sober you up.”

“Hmm.” Cassidy squinted up at Gene, and now Gene could really see how drunk the idiot was. 

His cheeks were flushed. His hair was mussed and his eyes were half lidded and glazed over, but he had this dopey, infuriating smile plastered across his face. He was slowly getting himself to his feet, but his foot caught on a crooked plank in the floor and it sent him listing forward, and Gene rushed to meet him, catching him by the arm.

“Woah.. s’all spinny..”

“Yeah, well, moonshine’ll do that to you. Can you walk?”

“Yep.”

Only Cassidy made no move to take even a single step. Even with Gene’s large hand around his bicep, he was swaying in place, like he was rocking on a ship. 

“Jesus, Silver,” Gene breathed, pressing himself flush against Cassidy’s side and wrapping his arm around his waist. “Come on.”

Cassidy simply hummed softly and put practically all his weight on Gene. The pair staggered their way out of the saloon and into the empty street.

“Where’re we goin’?” He slurred, letting his head loll towards Gene’s shoulder.

“We’re gonna book you a room at the inn so you can sleep this off. Ain’t no point in trying to get you on your horse.”

“Mmh.. yeah.. Scotch don’t like me ridin’ drunk..”

“I’ll bet.”

The two arrived at the small inn down the street with relatively no issue, until they reached the steps. Cassidy's boots must have been made of lead, because the man simply refused to lift his feet.

Eventually Gene sighed, and lifted the man by the armpits and set him on the porch.

Gene adjusted his grip around the man’s middle and stepped up to the front desk. The woman looked up at him, unamused.

“How can I help you, Delaney?”

“Just bookin’ a room for my friend here. He had too much to drink. Anything available?”

The woman flipped through the log book before turning her deadpan gaze back to Gene.

“Third room to the right. Don’t leave a mess.”

“Yes ma’am,” Gene replied, pulling out a few bills from his wallet and depositing them on the counter. The outlaw was going to owe him.

Cassidy let out a soft groan as Gene led him down the hall. He thanked the stars that they didn’t have to climb any stairs, or else he might have had to throw the man over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes. 

Cassidy mumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“I said,” He lifted his head from where it was lazily slouched over. “M’glad you’re here.”

“Weren’t you just telling me not to come near you--”

“Shaddup. I just.. Montana’s not gonna let me back in’ta camp tonight. I pissed him off.” Cassidy hiccuped lightly, letting his head fall toward Gene once again. “Would’ve slept in the woods tonight.”

Gene didn’t know what to say. Part of him felt like he wasn’t supposed to hear that in the first place.

Gene had his fair share of run-ins with Montana. The man was mean and cold. In all honesty, he sort of scared Gene. He certainly couldn't imagine being raised by the man. He was ruthless.

With Cassidy, at least Gene had a certain sense of security that he wouldn’t be shot dead at the drop of a hat. Their relationship had progressed as of late. Gene saw him less as a criminal that needed to be locked away, and more as the complicated man he was. He couldn’t quite explain it.

Maybe it was more akin to companionship that Gene would have liked to admit.

So he said nothing. He simply half-dragged Cassidy into the small room and deposited him on the bed. 

Cassidy groaned and let himself fall onto his back, blinking blearily at the ceiling.

“Why’re you helpin’ me.. in the first place,” He slurred. He didn't look away from the ceiling.

Gene began to work on removing Cassidy’s boots for him. “‘Cause we can’t have a crook out on the streets, now can we?” 

“Mmmh.. then why didn’t’ya put me away.” Cassidy hiccuped quietly.

“In jail? Guess I didn’t feel like walkin’ that far, is all,” Gene huffed. “Sit up.”

Cassidy obliged, squeezing his eyes shut at the wave of vertigo that overtook him. He swayed where he sat. Gene stepped closer, leaned closer, and began to methodically unbutton his coat for him. He could smell the liquor on his breath.

For a brief, fleeting moment, he thought that perhaps this was not something that two men should be doing together. It was intimate. Too intimate, especially for a deputy and an outlaw. 

Suddenly, Cassidy reached a clumsy hand up and found Gene’s large, calloused one. He gripped it firmly and lifted his flushed face.

“D’laney.. You.. you’re a real good guy..” He hiccuped. “Wan’ you t’know that.”

Gene felt the blush creep up his ears.

He averted his eyes. “Stop talking. You’re drunk.”

“Hah. Yeah.”

Gene worked Cassidy’s arms out of his coat and with that, the latter flopped unceremoniously onto the bed. He let out a slow, sleepy groan.

Gene huffed a small laugh and hooked the coat on the bed post. He watched Cassidy blink dazedly for a few moments.

“Turn on your side, Silver.”

Cassidy simply grunted, but didn't move.

“Christ.” Gene leaned over the bed and pulled Cassidy to lay on his right. Some hair fell over his eyes, and Gene reached up to brush it away, but--

He did not expect such a visceral pit to form in his stomach when Cassidy leaned into his hand.

The man relaxed, burying his nose into Gene’s fingers and sighing contentedly. His eyelashes fluttered against Gene's palm.

Gene's heart stopped.

Before he thought better of it, Gene gently, tenderly cupped Cassidy's cheek and ran a thumb along his cheekbone. In the dim candlelight of the room, Cassidy looked something out of a grecian myth.

Never had he seen something so beautiful. Gene thought he was going to be sick.

He snatched his hand away as if it had been burned.  

“I’ll get goin’ now,” He said hurriedly, crossing the room to the doorway in a few strides. He needed distance. He couldn’t be near that damn outlaw, not when it felt like his heart was going to beat out of goddamn chest.

Cassidy was already snoring, curled in on himself and pulling the pillows tight to his chest. He looked peaceful.

Gene felt anything but.

He shut the door behind him and bid the woman at the front desk goodnight before all but racing out of the inn. His head was spinning so much, he started to wonder if he was the drunk one.

A drink didn't sound too bad, either way.

He found a small space between buildings and sank down the wall, lowering his head. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to quell the fire that burned in his chest.

Why did he feel like this? What was wrong with him? Cassidy was a man. Cassidy was a criminal.

And yet all Gene wanted to do was march back into that room and pull Cassidy into his arms and let the world fall away. He wanted to be near him, to be with him, and that thought terrified him.

Gene’s hands flitted to the ring on his necklace. He shut his eyes.

Christ, help him.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[theshoesofatiredman]

I'm revisiting a part of The High School Survival Guide: Making the Most of the Best Time of Your Life (so far) by Adam Palmer. It's a Christian book despite the fact that the title makes it seem totally areligious, and I read parts of it when I was in high school. It was the first time I ever read about being gay in a book. I found a free version online and while I didn't think the Bible could shock me anymore my mouth dropped open at this:

Apparently the MSG version of this passage really says the quiet part out loud. Gay people aren't even human / lose the knowledge of how to be human. Not sure how that works. There's such a dissonance between the tone of this verse and the tone of the text in the book too.

GEE I WONDER WHY??? How strange that Christians, who believe their sacred text claims that homosexual acts strip people of God, love, and their humanity, view homosexuality as 'icky' and 'gross.' In fact, I would think they'd think much worse in that scenario and treat gay people far worse. In fact, it kinda seems like you're downplaying the absolutely brutal treatment and systemic discrimination of gay people that was carried out in the name of Jesus.

And all of this is being aimed at (presumably Christian) teenagers who think they might be gay. There's no real advice here other than to surrender to god and to seek accountability.

I was keenly aware as a gay Christian that I was at the center of a culture war I did not want to be a part of. People out beyond my religious community were fighting for an acceptance and celebration of homosexuality that I thought was harmful and sinful. People inside my religious community had all kinds of incorrect ideas about gay people and I didn't think there was much space for me to be "out of the closet" even if I stayed single, celibate, and god-fearing. And I had no idea what to do about any of it.

I didn't come out to anyone until after high school. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed, and the weight was still heavy. God did not make it easier, did not lift the burden of homosexuality from me. I had plenty of accountability in my life, constantly watched by helicopter parents with Internet filters, confessing sin regularly in men's groups (both before and after I started to tell people I 'struggled with same-sex attraction). 'Accountability' only served to intensify my shame.

The only time things got easier was when I started to take God out of the equation, when I started to see my sexuality as a part of myself to embrace rather than excise. Christians will drone on and on about how Christ sets people free from their sins. In my experience, to be free of my sin I had to first be free of Christ.

[nepenthean-sleep]

i was cleaning out my room today, preparing for the move, when i came across an old folder. it was filled with bible study materials from six or seven years ago, back when i was struggling immensely with reconciling my sexuality and gender identity with my faith and evangelical community. (for context, i am no longer a christian, i haven't been in many years, and i don't think i will ever return to the church.) i didn't even know i still had these papers. i started tearing them up with my hands, but then i remembered i had a sharpie, and i did this. it's not meant to be deep or even particularly revolutionary, but it was incredibly cathartic.

[will-to-live-reborn]

1-6

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[lavenderviolin]

When I was 13, I overheard my uncle call a woman a dyke. I didn’t know what it meant, I just knew my father thought it was amusing, and that my mother told me to never repeat it because that was a dirty word.

When I was 14, I stumbled across a music video. It showed the story of two girls falling in love. Watching it made my stomach hurt, and made my face feel hot, but I couldn’t understand why. I watched it 9 times before I started to feel like I was being creepy.

When I was 15, I had my first crush. I had been denying my feelings, and then she walked in and I felt that sick feeling in my stomach. For the first time, I had to reckon with the fact that straight girls don’t feel flushed and scared when they look too hard at another girl’s neck. That night I locked myself in the bathroom and hurt myself until I felt like I’d made up for my sin.

When I was 17, I sat through the most intense sermon of my life. The preacher was red in the face, spitting and pacing and condemning people like me. I listened to my friends saying amen, saw them nodding their heads in agreement. Terrified, I begged prayed for God to fix me, because I knew I couldn’t do it on my own. Nothing changed.

When I was 18 I told a mentor that I was gay. It took a gut wrenching 27 minutes just to get that word out of my mouth, and when I finally managed to say it, I felt filthy and exposed. We spent the next 2 hours praying and reading the Bible while he explained it was an attack from Satan. After I got home, I was sick. It was the first time I had seriously considered suicide.

When I was 19 a close friend admitted that she was a lesbian, and so I confided in her as well. She told me it was evil and immoral, but we could still make it right with God if we just had faith. I watched her struggle and fight and mold herself into an image, up until the day a young army man proposed and she said yes. I really, truly hope that she’s happy.

When I turned 20 I told my therapist that I liked girls. She was a Christian counselor, and I envisioned some form of therapy where she could help me fix my sexuality. Instead, she told me that I’d been punishing myself for too long over something that needed love and acceptance, not shame and hatred. It was the first time I felt like someone actually saw me.

I turned 24 this year, and I realized something. For the first time since I was 13, I had a crush on a girl and didn’t immediately fill with disgust. For the first time ever, I said the word “gay” out loud without flinching. And for the first time in my life, I came out to someone without immediately feeling like I needed to destroy myself to make amends for it.

I still think about that little girl who was so, so scared, and so unprepared for life, and I wish I could hold her hand. I can’t help her, and it’s too late to protect her, but maybe from here she can finally begin to heal.

[womenaremypriority]

I don’t even know what to say to this. This is insane.

[iamnathannah]

A Girl, Letting Go

Barbie – "I didn't get put here to lay down and leave you and Sasha flailing. I'm all in on this, and like they say at corporate; I can do anything."

Gloria – "You were, and are, my dream, and my dreams are never wrong; we'll cry when we watch our daughter graduate. I only love you, Millicent Barbara Handler."

AU Glorbie; Gloria is a young intern at Mattel in 2005 just out of USC when she has a breakdown, finds out she's pregnant from a one-night stand, and when her parents find out, Gloria's Catholic father shames her and slaps her upside the cheek for her being the deshonró a la familia, and tells her the only way she'll be supported is full compliance with his wishes for her future.

Unconsciously while taking down a commercial shoot Gloria holds a Barbie. She recalls memories in the past in that moment, about being repressed from loving her student council's president because of her mother's racist and homophobic views, recalls how in that girl's worst moment before she was shipped out to Nebraska and stricter relatives, the two women exchanged a kiss of comfort and support and acts it out with the doll, imprinting upon it. Barbie feels it in Barbieland out of the blue while on the beach, and runs back to her house with other Kens and Barbies trailing her, whom she does not acknowledge.

Barbie feels the hurt, the abuse from Gloria parents for pursuing design and shooting for USC rather than Azusa, and the pressure to find 'the right guy', leaving her with Richie, a good man, but only that. Fears of her future and how she raises her child without her the support of her family if she lives her authentic self. Her mood plunges and she knows that she can't stay in Barbieland one moment longer.

Barbie breaches into the San Fernando Mission Cemetery to find Gloria at the grave her abuelo, the only person to ever know Gloria carried sapphic feelings and who treasured her the most, even more than his own daughter, seeking prayer and guidance, and breaks down, her head upon his gravestone. She approaches slowly and carefully, touches her shoulder, and when Gloria looks up...

That feeling she had for her Millicent...her Millie. The bluest eyes and softest mouth, her height protective over her and the school. There is no doubt; they shine together, and Barbie cries with her and breaks down with her. They just know; Gloria remembers when she imprinted upon her at the shoot.

Barbie feeling such deep love immediately pushes her fully into the real world and Weird Barbie had explained the consequences; she can't go back, but Mattel will properly support her, and she has a job as a trade show model. Despite all those who look at her in different ways and so many offers of affection, Barbie's heart stays only true to Gloria, and they begin to fall in love as Gloria sets up displays and find little moments to be intimate, in trade show hotel rooms, Barbie's little extended stay apartment, Gloria's own building, and anywhere they can. Their lovemaking is soft, but still intense, and each morning after is filled with promises, tears and care as Barbie catalogs each day of Gloria's pregnancy when she can.

Eventually her parents confront her without knowing about the relationship; she has to stop her internship, be a proper Catholic wife and marry her child's father. Richie didn't expect this and is scared; he knows Gloria loved him only that night but if he doesn't marry her, Mr. Esperada suggested certain 'connections' to ruin his life.

Gloria moves back in with her parents and Richie; they try to avoid the topic of the wedding, claiming they want to make sure it's later in the pregnancy. Gloria continues to intern to run out her term, secretly hoping that Mattel switches it to full-time work.

When Gloria thinks she's attending a baby shower offered by her friends, she finds out that her parents planned it instead as a wedding and her closest friends sold her out with Richie acquising to his future father-in-law's wishes. It's betrayal, and in her last desperate act, she calls Barbie at the biggest event she has, LA Comic Con and leaves a voicemail to let her know . Barbie risks it all by sneaking out without telling anyone because she wants to actually get her hands dirty with toys; she's much more than a pretty face for the company.

She tries to sneak into the house while everyone is in the background; Richie catches her; they've seen each other and know Gloria has a unique connection to the mother of his child, and helps her crawl into the window of Gloria's childhood bedroom. Richie heads back out to find a distraction to get Gloria in and finds it when he realizes there's no wedding cake and raises hell with her parents fighting about it. Overwhelmed, Gloria flees into the room because whatever the cake is, sugar has pretty much made her vomit since she got morning sickness.

Gloria finds Barbie on the bed and is thrown off. They keep their voices down as her first worry is Barbie's future employment.

"Do I look like I give a fuck, G? Your health, safety and care is my most important priority right now. "It can't be! I'm a fuck-up about to have a kid and...look at you. Who wants a chubby failure, especially someone who...come on, Barbie, you're a knockout! I'm just...Gloria." "You're not a failure, good God, would you look at yourself? You're gorgeous, kind, funny, and full of heart. You connected with me and I feel what you feel, my heart was racing all day at the convention center because all I feel now is panic! I can't let you do make this mistake–" "She needs a father!" "She'll have one and Richie is all in on support, that's not in question, but you're going to let these backwards zealots get their way? Why, because you're human? I wasn't human a few months ago and I wouldn't trade going back to Barbieland for anything in any world." She pushes up Gloria's shirt to place her hand on her stomach. "I'm here for you, I'm here for Sasha, and I don't give a damn if Mattel dumps me, you're my whole heart. I will not let you say 'I do' and just dispose of your life because of some religious shit to maintain the 'proper family'. You're my family and–" Barbie startles as she feels a sharp kick against her palm and Gloria lets out a sharp gasp. "Barbie?" "Is something wrong?" "I...I think you imprinted onto...us." Gloria is emotional. "My doc told me that I should be concerned if–oh my God, another. If she didn't kick by now." She shudders and begins to cry. "She...she kicked for you. She...she knows. My body knows." Another couple of sharp kicks; Barbie feels emotional herself.

"Wow, she's a regular Abby Wambach." Barbie and Gloria lay on the bed, and Barbie lays against the woman's stomach. "She didn't until now?" "I didn't want to freak anyone out with all this going on, and–" Gloria brushes Barbie's hair aside as she feels soft pecks on her belly...and little boots with each kiss. "Baby." "I love you, and I love you," Barbie whispers against her belly. "My daughter will never know the hate and persecution her parents have forced upon her." Gloria is struck by the seriousness of her girlfriend's tone.

"Barbie," she murmurs. "You think of her as...that?" "As much as this horrid society can let me claw out," she hisses bitterly. "I'm here, and I am never leaving you." She holds Gloria's hand. "I didn't get put here to lay down and leave you and Sasha flailing. I'm all in on this, and like they say at corporate; I can do anything." Gloria looks directly in Barbie's eyes; she sees nothing but fire in them that will never be extinguished, and a determination she never knew from anyone who ever loved her. She hears the argument in the living room between Richie and her parents; that chaos could be her life.

But in Barbie, she sees the comfort she felt around Millie, and the support that the girl gave her before she was shipped off, her spirit effectively vanquished. Without Gloria, Millie lost her fight. She still remembers collapsing in her dorm when she heard the news that she had passed in her garage, her self-worth crushed and her body bruised from further abuse.

Barbie reminds her of Millie in so many ways; the sharing of her name as Barbie's middle name especially. It's like she floated around, waiting for Gloria to come back, and her life force was within this warm and tangible woman, who would support her all the way.

"You're free of that pain," Gloria says, blue eyes upon brown, brushing aside some stray hairs from her face. She's tearful and joyful. "You're here." Barbie's eye catches on a photograph taped to Gloria's mirror in that moment, of her and Millie candid in a student project. The two women look so young...and then the memories course through, of their small moments, their conversations about homework and projects, and of how the most innocent thing...a mere dream she voiced, wishing to kiss Gloria, was how Millie's parents found out.

The clarity of her resemblance, and of knowing the feeling of those last moments in that garage; Barbie had just suddenly...existed in that Dreamhouse. There was no childhood, no teenage years, nor any love to find with Ken.

The memories of her high school years return. Of her childhood, and that her parents snuffed her flame at every opportunity. Even as she had all A's, that didn't matter.

Only the Lord did. Only that awful boy who she somehow by some miracle kept from doing anything more than forceful kissing. Of how that girl, who was described in racially crude terms, was the only one to understand her at all. "My first body...by the end, I looked forward to the darkness," Barbie admits, tearful. "I think that...form...it was done." She bawls into Gloria's shoulder. "Never...leaving...you...again." Barbie always wondered why a certain scent that Gloria wore was so damned persistent in her mind, but she couldn't place it because the years in the limbo of Barbieland were a fog. She kisses Gloria softly, and where she saw fear only a few minutes before, now she saw full determination, and strength.

"You were, and are, my dream, and my dreams are never wrong; we'll cry when we watch our daughter graduate. I only love you, Millicent Barbara Handler." She held the woman's hand firmly in hers. "You've faced and survived death once. We're growing so damned old we get on the news when we're 110 and say like, ginger beer keeps us alive, some bullshit. It's our spirit." "And our connection." Barbie nods. "If we leave–" "No looking back. Things can be replaced. Souls, cannot." Gloria gets off the bed, Barbie getting up with her, and embraces her into a deep hug. "You, Sasha and I, against the world." She kisses Barbie on the lips.

"The worlds," Barbie corrects. "And so many lifetimes and guises, our love will be eternal. It already was." She looks down at the stomach of the smaller woman, filled with joy and wonder. "You ready, honeybee?" Gloria nods. "They don't accept, they don't know her. Ever. And I'm content with that." They come out of the bedroom, and indeed, the trio stands firm; Richie will not marry Gloria, and he doesn't give a damn if he's a marked man, he knows Barbie is her true love. LAPD does have to get involved, but Barbie protects Gloria with all she has, and the three are able to escape any charge, refusing to yield to one of Gloria's more aggresive uncles and his orders to marry her. Richie is able to defend himself and though hurt, he will live with nothing more than a minor stab wound.

The Esperadas indeed disown Gloria, but it means nothing; a work friend of Barbie's caught her fleeing and vouches to Mattel that she'd never leave work unsaid outside a true emergency, and Barbie is thankful to get a slap on the wrist and a relieving downgrade to voiceover-only roles and some consulting. Gloria gets full-time with Mattel after maternity leave with her portfolio and display work impressing her superiors. Richie shares a new apartment with them to bond with Sasha, and finds his own love, staying nearby to remain a strong force in her life.

The second chance and motherhood invigorate both women, and before long, whatever hurdles the Esperada-Handlers, their friends and the Church put in their way are easily overcome, and they and Gloria's former friends are shunned when the community at large finds out about the shower-turned-wedding; the other Esperada siblings outside two loyal to their parents turn away from them too, content to let them wither away and their bigoted calls for Gloria to repent go unheeded.

Several years later, Gloria and Barbie marry when they're able to, with Richie giving Gloria away, and Sasha as a flower girl, and they love each other more every day. And on the tenth anniversary of Millie's death, the two women visit a certain residence in Nebraska, both to understand why she took her life, and to confront her parents and an uncle for their abuse.

The three take sight of a woman who looks like Millie, but all grown up, and the father drops dead of a heart attack, the mother of a stroke, and that cruel uncle? Nobody believes him when he says he saw Millie in the flesh, and he spends the rest of his life institutionalized, hearing Barbie's words to him.

"I lived and loved Gloria after all. You'll go to your grave knowing that my spirit lived through the pain you forced me through."

And when they visit Millie's grave in that churchyard, they come upon it, thinking nothing of the lilies, before a woman there at the same time makes note of it.

"They just began to grow one day, nobody knows why." It's then that they notice the subtle rainbow of pink, orange, and violet lilies, full of life.

"Your pain in that life, is now full-throated and colorful love in this one," Barbie whispers to the grave, her thumb caressing Gloria's chin before drawing her into a soft kiss. They both imagine the spirit of Millie above them, freed and comforted that Gloria found her soul on Earth anew.

Millie looks down at them, grateful that she can now be fully at peace, and that her soul will be united with barbie's decades from now, in bliss and contentment.

[bigbroadvice]

Hi, I want to preface this with the fact I was raised in a conservative home, homeschooled, and very .. insulated from people I guess. My first public schooling experience was college and I only made a few friends I kept at arms length for a while. So I don’t know a ton of people.

I have recently been questioning a lot about politics and religion and science (I was never taught about evolution either and am just now learning about it) and I am .. questioning LGBT stuff and I was wondering if you know of studies proving LGBT identities? Or evidence for them? I was raised being told they just didn’t exist and the idea that they could be real is .. I guess amazing to me. I’m so sorry if this sounds cruel at all. I support and love my LGBT friends, I just don’t understand if there’s any science or proof behind it and .. I’m kind of questioning if I’m LGBT too but I really need evidence or I know I’ll never be accepted by my family. Are there studies proving people can be born gay or trans? Or anything else? Something like that? I’ve found studies looking at trans brains that look promising and the hemispheres and hypothalamus of gay and lesbian people but idk if there’s anything else.. thank you in advance.

Sorry this took so long to respond. I felt like I needed to do some research for it but I’ve been struggling to keep my head above water with college work.

Don’t worry, this is a perfectly valid question given where you’re coming from and that’s exactly what I’m here for, all the questions you’re not sure who else to ask.

Honestly, it sounds like you’re already doing a really thourough job researching, in fact I’d love to see what you’ve found. I’m not sure what kind of scientific proof I could find for you that LGBT people are real. It’s like finding research that proves the sun is real. Of course it is, it’s right there. Queer people are everywhere and always have been.

But I understand that you were raised in an environment that went to great lengths to deny that reality. I was also homeschooled in a very conservative home and while they couldn’t outright deny the existence of queer people because I had some access to the outside world and knew I myself was queer, they did try their very hardest to explain it away as something you get infected with, confusion, a choice, and/or sin.

I don’t know all the science behind why people are queer, I just know that they are and there’s no changing it. Some people are naturally attracted to another sex, and some people are naturally attracted to the same one. Some people have always felt comfortable in the gender they were assigned at birth, and some people never have and never will. People will try to tell you that can be changed, but it can’t. They used to try to medicate it like a disees but all that did was make people depressed or feel nothing at all, not start feeling attraction for the opposite sex.

Growing up, they told me that if I prayed enough and did all the right things I could stop being queer if I wanted it enough. Well, I’m here to tell you that’s a lie. I went though years of conversion therapy and am still just as queer as I’ve always been. No amount of bible verses and earnest pleading prayers and counseling sessions and exorcisms was able to make that go away, it just made life miserable.

The only choice involved in being LGBT is weather you choose to love or hate yourself for it. It’s not going away, so you can either choose to live in shame and keep yourself from things that would make you happy, or you can embrace it and live freely.

If you’re looking for more avenues to research, I’d recommend queer history. It’s really eye opening seeing how queer people have always existed in every time period and every culture, through persecution and celebration. We have been and always will be here for as long as humanity is, because we’re an inextricable part of it.

[marsconer]

ethel cain being cannibalized by her shitty bf 🤝 me looking at mom remembering i’m a lesbian and she’s lesbophobic

[fonkeloog]

Devotion

CW: religion, internalised homophobia

@wolfstarmicrofic

"My devotion is with God." Remus whispered into the cold night air.

"I know." Came the response. A soft squeeze came from where their hands were linked together.

"I'm... I'm not...."

"Love, I know." a kiss to his temple followed.

"Sirius,"

"Shhhh. It's okay. You'll figure it out. And I'll be right there with you. Just because you can't tell me, doesn't mean I won't stop loving you. I always will."