As a gay Christian, specifically a gay Catholic, I’ve been plagued with the same question for as long as I’ve even considered that I may be a lesbian. And ever since I came out, I’ve gotten this question more frequently than anything else:
Isn’t homosexuality a sin?
Aren’t you going to go to hell?
I spent years debating this. I never had an answer until recently, and I’m writing this post for the gay Christians that are scared, and for the straight Christians that give our church it’s bad reputation of blatant homophobia.
The most common argument I hear for homophobia is that in the book of Leviticus, “a man must not lie with a man as with a woman” and that in Genesis, God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. But does Christ not call us to love one another? Are we not called to “love one another as [Jesus] has loved [us]” regardless of gender? If your argument is that it’s wrong to be gay, so God hates you, you’re unfortunately very mistaken. God loves me and you and all the other people regardless of gender or sexuality; if God doesn’t make mistakes, then we are to love however we are made to by God.
Recall that familiar story in the Bible, where the centurion goes to Jesus and asks that Jesus heal his servant. You probably think of it as a touching story of a kind-hearted Roman soldier, but in reality, it’s a story of God healing a gay man’s boyfriend. In the original Greek version of that particular gospel, the Centurion refers to his servant as the Greek word that means a servant who’s duty is to be his/her master’s companion and lover. The man was, in essence, his master’s lover, and Jesus didn’t turn the centurion away because of this. He instead said “your faith has saved you”. Jesus didn’t reprimand the centurion or tell him he’d go to hell for having gay sex, he blessed that lovely gay biblical couple.
I had a conversation a few years ago, with one of my dad’s best friends. He is also Gay and Catholic, and when we spoke, he told me how important it is to love other, in all forms of love, whether filial or agape or eros love, regardless of gender, and that is why he doesn’t consider his sexuality a sin, and neither do I.
At the end of the day, faith, and its expression in the form of religion, is about our personal relationship with God. Or gender doesn’t determine our faith, nor does our sexuality, race, or age.
In the words of Pope Francis, “if a person is gay, and follows the Lord, who am I to judge?”
hello it is i bringing the Gay and plaguing your tags
@sleepingoutcast suggested teachers AU with Robbie as a drama teacher… and here is a drawing of it. you know robbo would be the teacher that comes in wearing a dramatic classy suit everyday, and here he is, determined to rid the school of the beefy new PE teacher who is distracting the kids from being in his carefully planned, scripted, costumed and directed plays.
if anyone has a sfw sportarobbie idea/request… i’d like to hear it :)
“The question is what does a decent society do with people who hurt themselves because they’re human; who smoke too much, who eat too much, who drive carelessly, who don’t have safe sex? I think the answer is that a decent society does not put people out to pasture and let them die because they’ve done a human thing.”
5k of SMUT AND ACTUAL PLOT… but mostly smut. I upload from my phone so I can’t italicize anything. If you want to see the version with italics, I’ll send you a link to where I posted the story. ANYWAAAAAYYYYY … I also apologize, but I don’t know how to enable the ‘read more’ feature on my phone. I know it’s annoying but unfortunately I can’t do anything about it.
This is a Drarry fic based on a video on YouTube of the same title. Kind of post apocolyose/ homophobe universe. Hardcore smut so… yeah
“Men. The only animals in the world to fear” - D.H. Lawrence
“Findings from the National Center of Disease control released the results of a study which shows that the lifestyle of some homosexuals has triggered an epidemic…” The garbled voice of a newscaster comes out of the radio, along with small blasts of static. I walk down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, my shoes covered in red dust and the sun beating down on my shoulders, heating my brown leather jacket. I keep my hands in the pockets to keep them from shaking as the small radio I keep in the lining spits out more information.
“The ‘Gay Plague’ is the center of a political storm- the Moral Majority claiming that AIDS is God’s punishment for the gay lifestyle.” I close my eyes hard and use my shoulder to wipe the sweat out of them, and my messy black hair sticks to my forehead. In a hidden part of the thick jacket I can just hear the minute clinking of small pink pills that I live on in a small prescription jar. The pills in that jar, though, are anything but legal. The announcer continues.
“This isn’t just a disease we’re talking about here! These people are capable of murdering other humans when they-” The voice becomes inaudible from all of the static emitting from the cheap radio, so I take it out and hit it against my jean-clad leg until the voice is understandable again.
“C'mon…” I huff to myself, hitting the small box once again when it continues to cut out, until it finally continues.
“-and 50% of U.K citizens are favoring quarantine. We’re putting them in a nice, comfortable place-” The voice of the announcer is cut off suddenly by another person shouting into the microphone.
“Just isolate them!” The newcomer says, and I continue to listen, though it hurts. Looking up, I see the outline of a tall brick enclosure in the distance as my radio spouts more slurs. I would switch to another station, but these news reports are all that are broadcasted anymore. The second voice continues, though in a calmer tone than the one previously used. “We have received proof that the free world is, once again, in danger.
The radical group of homosexuals, known otherwise as the Death Eaters, have rallied together, more determined than ever to destroy the means put in place by our scientific and medical communities that keep us all safe, and healthy. Although we have created a protective quarantine, no one is truly safe.” I turn off the radio, no longer able to listen.
I can hear my mother’s voice in my head, pressing the bottle of pink pills into my hand. ‘Hide, Harry. Hide in plain sight, be a nurse, do whatever you can. Just don’t let anyone know who you really are.’ So here I am, in the middle of a field on a dirt road in August.
Eventually reaching the gate of an eight foot tall barbed wire fence, I look up and sigh, pushing it open and walking inside the quarantine zone.
The road is deserted, with various posters blowing about in the street, and the rusted shells of forgotten cars lining the outsides of empty buildings. My green eyes scan the chain link, looking at the various posters tacked up.
Seeing some of them closer, they look to all have some extent of coverage from green or black paint. I can even see a poster of the Queen with a large green skull with a serpent tongue covering her face. I reach out to touch the poster, but in pulling my hand back, the tips of my fingers come away glistening with green liquid. I then take a step back, look around, and continue on my way, eyes trained on the ground in front of me, and hands stuffed in my pockets, with the muffled sound of men’s screams permeating my ears.
I continue walking through the desolate streets until I reach a heavy metal door with the words “Caution: Quarantine inside. Enter at your own risk.” I don’t think twice before pressing my shoulder against the door to open it.
Inside, the sounds of suffering are clearer, but I continue on my way. Close by, I can hear someone with a hacking cough, a side effect of the numbing agent.
“Hey-” A hoarse voice calls out, and I look up in surprise. “you’ll help me…” An unkempt man sitting in a pile of trash lunges at me, trying to grab my ankle, though I manage to jump out of the way. “Help me!” He screams at my back as I walk away. “You selfish pig! You’re just like the rest of us!”
“L-leave me alone.” I say quietly, continuing, albeit at a quicker pace, towards my destination while the man screams behind me.
“You’ll get yours one day kid! You just… you fucking wait…” Is what I hear before he breaks down crying, and I keep going out of fear.
I turn a corner a small ways from the man to the front of an unassuming building, manned by two armed guards wearing respirators over their mouths and noses. The man on the left looks me up and down, before stiffly asking-
“Identification?” I take out my security pass and he runs it under a machine, which beeps to signal my clearance. “Put out your arms.” He says, taking out a metal detector and waving it over my whole body.
As it runs over my side, I pray with every ounce of my sinning soul that the pills won’t be detected, even though they never have been before.
“He’s clean.” The guard says once the detector has run over me multiple times. He gives me a look of sadness, and motions to his partner to open the door. “Good luck in there, Potter.” I nod in response and walk through the door into the cool, dark building.
My whole body shakes as I walk to the bathroom, the intercom of the building playing more messages like the one I heard on my way to work. “Several members of the Death Eaters have been arrested for vandalizing property, writing messages that spread their hate and lies…” I listen intently at the door to the restroom to make sure that it’s deserted, before entering and locking the door behind me. “The authorities have transferred the detainees to a nearby clinic for immediate neutralization.”
I walk to the sink, not bothering to look in the mirror because I know what I would see; the tired eyes of a liar, and the messy hair and smile-less lips of a sinner. I take the plastic container out of my pocket and crack it open, depositing the pills into my hands, looking at them with distain and distaste, before I hear a creak behind me. I look up and turn to the side, the sudden appearance of a heavily freckled red-haired man taking me by surprise, causing me to drop the container of pills and drop to my knees, scrambling to pick them all up.
“I-it’s not what it looks like-” I stutter, fear taking over my whole being, because if he knows what these pills do-
I look back at him after all the pills are put away, and I see a sad smile on his face.
“I should have known you were on Celibron-” he says, his accent thick. I narrow my eyes at him before looking away, my heart beating a million miles and hour. “I know exactly what you’re going through. You’re doing a really good thing-” I look back up at the man, who looks hardly older than I. How could he possibly know what I'n going through?
I narrow my eyes again, and stand up straight, slipping the bottle into my pocket. “I can’t eat… I can’t sleep… these- these things are fucking poisoning me-”
“These things saved my life.” The other man says calmly, resting his hand on my arm, which I immediately pull away. I turn my back, and put my hand on the doorknob, figuring I can just take the pills somewhere else. “Do you want to get better?” He asks, and my grip falters, before steadying again.
“There’s nothing wrong with me.” I say. “It’s just a precaution.” And I walk out of the room, leaving the red haired man alone, once again.
About an hour later, I’ve nearly forgotten the experience. My mind is numbed by the Celibron coursing through my system, and my shoes loudly hit the ground in the quiet hallway leading up to my patient’s room.
I’ve traded my leather jacket and jeans for dark red scrubs, and my hands are unable to stop fidgeting as I walk up to the one-way glass that shows me my patient.
I look in and see him sitting on a table, wearing nothing but white shorts, and I swallow thickly, before mentally berating myself for it. He has neat bleach blonde hair and wears a look that would seem horrible on anyone except for him. His lean arms are pale and his stomach is toned and blemishless. When he looks up I can see stormy grey eyes and a strong chin. I open the door and walk into the room, trying to avoid eye contact with the beautiful man.
I go to the cart positioned directly next to the man, whose feet are bound to his padded medical chair. I pick up his file and graze my eyes over it, before having them rest on his name. 'Draco Malfoy’ I glance at him and look back at the chart blankly when I find that he’s looking back at me.
I walk around the back of him, glancing at his forearm and seeing a tattoo of a green skull and serpent right beneath the hinge of his elbow. His voice takes me out of my stupor.
“So… what’s it like?” I return to his side and look him in the eyes, before glancing away again. “When they cut it off?” Draco asks me morbidly.
“You’ll be anesthetized-” I reply quickly.
“Mm-mm. No, I want to feel everything-” my neck heats as I feel him look me up and down. “even pain.” He says everything with a confidence that I don’t understand. I don’t understand how he could be confident and level headed in the situation that he is in.
“We can’t do that. That’s… inhumane.” I tell him, still keeping my eyes on the tools that I’m fiddling with for no reason other than to distract myself from the strength of his gaze. He thinks for a moment before replying.
“Since when did that stop anyone?” I pause for a moment before continuing my distraction.
“I-I’m sorry. The government requires that every patient be numb from the waist down for this procedure…” His eyes burn into the back of my neck and I can feel the pills working against the feelings rising up inside of me. He smirks.
“What do you feel down there, nurse boy? I could smell you a mile away. Your body’s strong… it’s resisting those pills-” I turn to face him, an easygoing smile decorating his features, and anger boils up inside of me.
“How did you know that?” I ask with a mixture of anger, fear, and curiosity. His blonde hair flops into his eyes and he brushes the strands away with gentle fingers.
“Did you ever break sodomy law?” I stop again, the heat from my neck spreading to my cheeks.
“T-the what?” I stutter, trying to play innocent as I lean back against the wall. He just smiles and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe my ineducation on the subject.
“Sodomy, sweetie. Mmm, sodomy.” The blonde nearly hums the words, before turning back to me with an amused expression. “C'mon, everyone knows that the clinic staff are all a bunch of gays…” He looks me up and down hungrily, and says more quietly, “my nose never fails.” And my anger boils over.
I slam the supplies on the cart, push off the wall, and walk right up to Malfoy. “Look, I don’t know what shit you heard, but it’s wrong. I’m straight.” I tell him matter-of-factly, walking to the other side of the room to pick up the sphygmomanometer. He clicks his tongue.
“Yeah, so is spaghetti 'till you get it wet…” He pauses before continuing at a whisper. “and hot…” His eyes are filled with lust, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep my composure under his grey gaze.
“I-I need to t-take your blood pressure-” I keep my eyes trained on the ground as I walk the few steps over to him, my fingers brushing his warm skin while I strap the contraption to his right bicep. He breathes in deeply,the muscles in his chest rising and falling as he chuckles and softly says
“You’re strapping it to the wrong limb-” I cut him off.
“You’re about to be castrated. Doesn’t that bother you?” I ask him irritably, giving in to my want for just a moment to rake my eyes up his body. He still acts indifferent, and I can’t tell if he’s really courageous or really stupid.
“Hell no.” He says, and I begin pumping up the pressure in the arm band of the sphygmomanometer. He throws his head back and then looks at me with a grin. “Turns me on, what can I say?” I rip the Velcro and take the band off of him, throwing it to the side in anger.
“This isn’t a game! People are dying because of this!” I exclaim, running my hand through my already disastrous black locks, and he suddenly turns serious.
“I live out there…” He looks down at his bound feet for a moment, before bringing his eyes up to mine once again. “I know what it’s like.”
“You’re a freak.” I say, going around to the other side of the chair back to the cart, my anger boiling over. I look at him again and his sarcastic smile is back.
“Might be hard- er, difficult- to do the procedure, if I’m… y'know.” He says, and I look up. He flicks his eyes downward, and I notice the bulge in the thin cotton pants.
“Oh… yeah…” I say.
Suddenly, Draco’s lunged out and grabbed my hand, pulling me to the side of his chair on my knees, putting my hand over his growing hard on, pressing it down, and moving it so that I’m cupping him. He’s strong; even as I’m struggling against him, I can’t get my hand away from it’s place against his cock.
“How does that feel?” I can hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, just squeeze right there-” he exclaims to me when I inadvertently clench my fist around him. I can’t say that I’m not enjoying feeling what must be a rather large cock through those thin pants, though I know it’s so fucking wrong.
I stop struggling, and look away guiltily as I squeeze down his cock, though not bare I can feel its’ heat, and I have Draco writhing in his chair. I can tell that his moans are hardly contained and I have to thank god for these scrubs hiding the bit of hardness that I’ve acquired despite the pills.
“Fuck-” he moans quietly, more like a gasp when I flick my wrist hard. His hand is gripping my wrist as I go faster and faster; my panting becoming audible. It’s so…
It’s also… so
“Fuckfuckfuck…” Curses spill from his lips as I take my hand off of him just to put it down the waistband of his pants and actually touch him. He’s heavy and throbbing and I have the sudden urge to put my mouth on him, but banish it from my head immediately.
'This is plenty wrong enough…’ The thought crosses my brain when I swipe my thumb over the head of his dripping cock, lubricating my hand in his precum as I continue to jack him off.
His other hand is pulling on my hair as moans continue to fall from his mouth.
“Tell me your name. Tell me your name so I can shout it when I come.” He gasps to words, and his cock twitches in my hand.
“Potter.” I say, and he’s already started his orgasm.
His hand grips my hair roughly and he arches his back. I bring my eyes to his face; grey eyes closed, and biting his lip in ecstasy.
“Fuck Potter!” He gasps and I can feel his come on my hand as he pants and moans and curses, finally collapsing in the chair, his chest rising and falling quickly. “You… you’re good at that-” he says as I stand up not a moment before the door opens behind me, causing me to run into the cart in surprise.
The surgeon walks in, completely indifferent to my reaction, and walks over to the cart, turning to me. My white covered hand is hidden behind my back.
“Where’s the scalpel?” He asks me, and I look over at Draco with wide eyes, who smirks, winks, and lunges at the surgeon, putting the blade in his neck and pulling it back out when the man has fallen to the floor.
He then takes my wrist in an iron grip and pulls me out the door and through several hallways.
“C'mon c'mon!” He says back at me, before throwing me against the wall near a guarded door. He attacks the guard, taking him down by brute force, punching him several times, then coming over to me, hauling me up, and dragging me over to the door.
“Open the door.” He says into my ear, raising hairs over my entire body, but I still struggle against him, until I feel cool metal against my throat. “Open. the door.” He repeats, pressing the scalpel in more, until I relent and put the code into the door.
Once unlocked, people come rushing out of the armored room in hysterics. All homosexuals. All people like Harry. I turn to run, but he’s come up behind me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks me, picking me up.
A sudden hit on the the back of the head has me out cold, and I can vaguely feel myself being thrown over a shoulder and carried…
“Ow…” I say when I awaken with a pounding headache, rubbing my forehead. I look around, and my heart rate rises when I see that I am no longer in the clinic.
I’m in a cloth tent, alone.
I scramble to the door, ignoring my headache and climb out into the light of a setting sun. Music, laughter and yelling reach my ears from somewhere nearby, and I decide to investigate. I know that I’m getting close, as I can hear Draco’s voice:
“Yes! My fellow Death Eaters! I promise you that we will stab at the opposition! We will be treated as people in this cruel world! We. Will. Be. Victorious!” He screams, the voice of the man permeating my ears. An excited scream rises from the other people in the group. “Stripped of our dignity, under the guise of a disease, an epidemic, that has nearly wiped us out. And now we appear! Without out meds! Because we won’t hide anymore. This is OUR freedom!” His speech hits a crescendo when I round the corner of the rocky path, and crouch behind some bushes.
In the clearing I can see Draco, standing on a rock next to a blazing fire, and a rather large group of cheering followers who are dancing and talking. Among them I swear I can see the red haired man from the bathroom.
I crouch lower behind the bush when I see Draco looking around the edges of the clearing, praying that he won’t see me. But he does. His eyes lock onto mine and I swear I see him lick his lips, before I back up, trip a bit, and then run as fast as I can in the other direction, thoughts racing through my mind.
'I’m not one of them. I’m straight, I’m normal. I won’t be killed and there’s nothing wrong with me.’ Desperate thoughts fill my head as I run, and I can hear him perusing me.
“You can’t go back! You have nowhere to go-” he yells after me, but I just keep going, my chest heaving and my legs burning, yet I still run with tears in my eyes.
I run until I trip, falling to the ground on my back, and within thirty seconds Draco’s reached me.
He kneels behind me and pulls me up onto my knees, one hand on my throat and holding my ear to his mouth, and his other arm around my stomach holding me in place as I struggle against him.
“You can’t go back. The government’s declared you a renegade-” He says into my ear, his fingers and thumb digging into my cheeks and squishing my mouth.
“I-I can’t be a part of this-” I say, and he stretches my head back so that my neck is completely exposed, and puts his lips next to my ear.
“You’re here, just do it.” He says, and pushes me down so that I’m flat on my back, his knees on either side of my hips and his hands on either side of my head. I stare into his eyes, which have a softness that I didn’t see in the clinic.
“You felt something didn’t you?” He asks with a smile, stony eyes gleaming. I swallow thickly and try to ignore the pangs of want throbbing in my chest. “That’s the pills wearing off.”
Our breathing heavy and deep, it’s my turn to talk. “Was that your plan? To hold me hostage until the pills wore off?” I challenge him, and he smirks at me, his lips now mere inches above mine.
“A man’s not a man until his pills wear off…” He looks at me thoughtfully. “I’m doing you a favor.” He licks his lips, and takes the hem of my shirt in his fist, ripping it over my head, leaving my tanned chest gleaming in the darkening sky. His eyes look at me hungrily.
“What are you doing?” I ask, though all logical thought is being clouded with lust.
“Freeing the dragon.” He smirks, and all thought goes out the window. With a surge of strength, I push Draco off of me onto his back, and reassume his old position on top. The man beneath me looks vaguely surprised, but he doesn’t have long to retain the face because I’ve started attacking his lips.
I kiss him with a passion I’ve never felt before. His lips are soft and supple, and when his tongue snakes into my mouth it feels like it was made to be there. I bite his bottom lip hard in ecstasy, and when I grind my hips down into his for a split second, he groans into my mouth.
I rip his shirt off of him, running my hands over ever inch of uncovered pale skin all the way up his arms to his wrists, which I pin over his head while I start attacking his neck with hard bites and kisses, all the way to his collar bone. We’re both panting like animals at this point, but I couldn’t possibly care less.
“Shit-” he gasps, pressing his hips into mine, presenting me his already throbbing cock through yet another pair of thin pants. I take my hands off his wrists and he immediately puts one in my hair, and the other is running down my back, pushing me onto him.
He grabs me by the sides, hauling me into a sitting position without ever taking his lips off of mine.
Draco licks all the way down my neck and onto my collar bone, his cock pressing into me and mine prodding him in the stomach. I grind into him and he throws his head back in a loud moan, thrusting his hips up against me.
“Fuck…” I sigh, because it seems to be the only word in my vocabulary right now.
Within seconds of my moan he has his fingers in the waistband of my pants and is almost ripping them off, leaving me bare in his lap. I immediately climb off of him and pull his pants off of him, but the second they’re off he’s got me back on top of him, assaulting my lips and squeezing my ass.
My thighs are wrapped around his waist and every time I move my cock rubs against his stomach until I can’t take it anymore.
“I-I need you-” I gasp in his ear, and his mouth is immediately off of mine.
“If you want me, you’re going to need some preparation.” He whispers in my ear, not taking any more time and putting me down on my stomach, spreading me, and putting his tongue in my hole.
“Goddamn, Draco!” I gasp as he puts it as deep as it can go, working me loose. My hands pull at his once neat blonde hair, and he works his tongue in me until he has me writhing. But he doesn’t stop there. He puts two fingers in his mouth, covering them with saliva, and puts them in in place of his tongue. I moan, and he starts to talk.
“You’re going to look so fucking gorgeous with my cock inside you.” He pumps his fingers faster, earning himself a strangled gasp. He takes my head and turns it so that my eyes are on him while he finger fucks me. “You’ll be taking all eight inches whether you like it or not, baby.” I throw my head back in reply because he’s started curling his fingers and I can’t comprehend anything but the feeling. He smirks, grey eyes crinkling. “Good.” He says, taking his fingers out and leaving me with an empty feeling. “I need you to lube me.” I quirk an eyebrow, and he chuckles. “Suck me a bit. Just a little. I don’t know how long I would last in that mouth.” I blush but bring my mouth down to meet his glistening head all the same.
His cock is warm and full in my mouth and I try to take it as deep as it can go, getting it as wet as possible. All too soon he’s pulling it out.
“I-I can’t…” He pulls me on top of him again, but doesn’t have me sit. He looks me dead in the eye. “After I’m done with you, you’re not going to be able to sit comfortably for a week.” He growls the words into my ear and I moan. He takes that as the signal to start lowering me onto him.
Inch by inch he fills me, and it burns and hurts but it hurts so good that I don’t know whether to scream or moan. His girth is stretching me and I wrap my legs around his waist. After a bit of adjusting, Draco is in me all the way to the hilt, his tip brushing lightly against my prostate every time he moves. He puts his forehead against mine and kisses me when he starts thrusting; slowly at first. In the beginning it hurts, and he swallows my cries. But then it starts feeling good… suddenly, he isn’t going fast enough.
“Faster.” I gasp into his ear, and he has no problem fulfilling my request. My cock rubs against Draco’s stomach with every thrust, giving me more pleasure than I know what to do with. My nails scratch at his back roughy, surely leaving dozens of marks.
“Faster.” I say again, because I want more. So much more. “Harder.” And he goes harder, but still not hard enough. I pull his face down to meet mine, and look into his darkened stormy eyes. “Fuck me ask hard and fast as you can.” I say to him, and he grins.
“As you wish, Mr. Potter.” He says, before pulling out, putting me on my hands and knees, going back in, and fucking me so hard that he hits my prostate with every thrust.
“Draco!” I scream, his hips slapping my ass where they meet, and his hands pulling me by the hips to meet his frantic thrusts. I take myself in hand and jack myself off harder and faster than ever before because I’m so painfully hard that I don’t know what to do with myself. Soon, I can feel the coil tightening inside of me. “I-I’m going to-” is all I get out before I come the hardest I ever have, and he’s still fucking me as hard as ever.
Draco pulls me up so my back is against his chest and he takes my now soft cock in hand, moving his hand in time with his thrusts until I’m amazingly hard again, and he himself is grunting. But his orgasm comes with dirty talk.
“I’m so glad I got to fuck you open. I want to split you down the middle with my cock, and never stop fucking you. I got you hard again so I could suck you, feel all 7 inches of you, Harry. Fuck… Fuck!” He screams, riding out his orgasm inside me. The second he stops coming, he pulls out, moves down and gives me the most aggressive blowjob ever, which ends with my come all over his face.
“Scared, Potter?” He asks me, panting.
I give him a wry grin.
“And so, in response to this new aggression, we are launching a new effort…”
[The Gays/addicts/insert demonized social group] are infecting god-fearin Real Americans with the Gay Plague by sticking them with HIV-contaminated needles is a really, really old rumor, too, and one that gets dredged up whenever there’s a new boogeyman. Until I see more evidence, I’m labelling “Antifa are going to stick Trump supporters with HIV needles” as 1488% fake
What she means:
why don't people appreciate Dekka Talent? She's brilliant like she's a poc and lgbt character and she doesn't live up to stereotypes at all? She's so original and well written??? Also how is the girl so brave like can you imagine like she thought she was going to die and she still tried to be strong and fight? Also she has a rough background but she's still cool as hell? She's just brilliant? Plus her power is sick af like??? More people need to love Dekka...
Is there actual proof Louis went to a gay club after? Because people thought the restaurant Louis was at was a gay bar when it turns they were wrong, so any proof?
Those people are me. I said (more or less) that it’s a gay bar, mostly because it’s in the Reguliersdwarsstraat and the whole damn street is gay. Read the post, it’s not incorrect. The waiter has not disproven anything I said. The fact that restaurants don’t have denominations as such doesn’t mean Louis didn’t go and have dinner in the gayest place he could find. The customers in the restaurant will mostly be gay. The waiter is clearly gay. The restaurant will probably take part in the gay pride activities in August. On a Saturday night, you have to push through a crowd of gay men to get to the freaking place. THIS is what I meant when I wrote: “this restaurant is pretty gay”.
In some people’s need to debunk this, they forget the point: Louis was having dinner in the Reguliersdwars. This is what we are all freaking out about. If he were not gay himself, he would never have been there. He would have gone to one of the many, many other mediocre Mexican restaurants in the city, one that wouldn’t give the larries material. Instead, he went to the *one* restaurant that’s in the middle of gay heaven. Such bad luck for our hero, who is already plagued by gay rumours! Unless of course we have all been seeing blind and Oli is the gay one, and Louis and E were being supportive friends, on her birthday, on a romantic weekend to Amsterdam? I’m going to put that possibility on the backburner, if it’s OK with you. The only people who don’t see this, are the ones who prefer picking this situation apart, desperate to find doubt where they can, rather than looking at what actually happened last night.
Now. About the club. There is no proof that I can show you that Louis also went to NYX afterwards. You should do with that whatever you like. But even if I could give you proof, people who refuse to see what this means, would say “straight people go to gay clubs too!” anyway, so it doesn’t even matter.
GOD LOVES UGANDA: The acclaimed “God Loves Uganda” examines the impact that American evangelicals have had in Uganda, where missionaries have created schools and hospitals while also fostering a virulent anti-gay atmosphere.
THE GRADUATES: A documentary explores pressing issues in education today – including the bullying of gay students – through the eyes of six Latino and Latina adolescents from across the United States.
HOW TO SURVIVE A PLAGUE: A film tells the story of ACT UP and TAG (Treatment Action Group), two groups whose activism and innovation turned AIDS from a death sentence into a manageable condition.
LIMITED PARTNERSHIP: The story of Richard Adams and Tony Sullivan, one of the first same-sex couples to be legally wed. The year: 1975. The place: Boulder, where, for a brief time, the county clerk issued marriage licenses to gays. They later sued the U.S. government.
LOVE FREE OR DIE: The story of V. Gene Robinson, who became the first openly gay bishop in the Episcopal Church when he was elected bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire in 2003. The documentary accompanies him to President Barack Obama’s 2009 inauguration.
THE NEW BLACK: The struggle over gay rights within the African-American community is examined via the fight for and against a 2012 referendum on same-sex marriage in Maryland, where blacks make up almost a third of the electorate.
FROM PAGE TO STAGE: In this film,
two outstanding young playwrights – a
gay African-American from Miami’s
inner city and an Indian-American
from Cleveland – struggle to bring
their work to the stage.
WE WERE HERE: “We Were Here” recalls the AIDS crisis in San Francisco during the early 1980s, when what was then known as the “gay plague” first swept through the city’s thriving gay community. The documentary focuses on the experiences of five individuals.
Today has almost been a year since the largest mass shooting and LGBT hate crime in the United States, where they lost 49 mostly Latin people to hate, showing us that acceptance is still hard to find in today’s world. Since then, we saw Chechnya open gay concentration camps, and rounding up people in their homes and on the streets. This as well as many other things, is a reminder that Pride isn’t “just a party”, that it’s not “unnecessary” and how absurd it is that it makes some wonder why “there isn’t a Straight Pride?”
Pride is and has always been necessary from the day it got created. Many years ago, but not as long as we’d like to think, trans women of color led the riots at Stonewall, the uprising that led to an organized global LGBT movement and origin of the pride parade, 1969. Stonewall proves to us that police doesn’t deserve automatic respect, that we should question authority and demand equality. We still have a very long way to go in this, as police brutality is still way too frequent and justice nowhere to find in it.
LGBT history, as well as non-white history, has always been full of deliberate, planned violence. We don’t have to go back far at all, as we know that the aids virus could have been fought early on, but that Ronald Reagen deliberately decided to ignore it because he and many believed it only targeted queer people, labeling it the “gay plague, epidemic sweeping” and “God’s punishment”, even though the majority of cases in the 80s for France and Belgium among other countries when the outbreak was drastically spreading, were heterosexuals, and it had long been a problem in Africa, spread through predominantly heterosexual sex. Scientists exposed the media over and over of their discriminatory bias, yet they still continued villainizing queer people. (“Maybe the Lord brought down the plague because illicit sex is against the Ten Commandments.” US President Ronald Reagan, 1989.) It’s important to recognize how bigotry isn’t just something you’ll “live through” until it’s over/someone else gets elected. Many didn’t live through it at all. He’s responsible for aids to grow from 41 cases in 1981 to over 70 million today while the CDC was constantly denied funding. He kept trying to deny them more his entire presidency, and refused to even talk about aids out loud for the first seven years of his presidency. When he did, 59,572 AIDS cases had already been reported and 27,909 of those women and men had died.
If we go back further in time, we can look at all the people that were saved from the concentration camps after the Second World War. Yet the queer prisoners weren’t freed at all, but simply moved from the camps to prisons, spending the last of their short lives there.
If we look at today, violence done to queer people is still high, as well as suicide rates. There is youth that still gets kicked out of their own homes by their guardians. There are still places in the world where you will receive systematic violence or execution for being openly LGBT. Many LGBT traces are written out of our history books, and even though media representation is rising, it is mostly through villains, the laughing stock, or death.
As a wlw myself, I am paying my respect and gratitude to all those who have fought for my rights and those we lost to hate. Oppression and hate has been on the rise once again in many forms.
My cause isn’t just my cause and your cause isn’t just yours, we are facing the same evil in different wrapping and I will always fight against oppression. Withdrawing yourself from the cause, or dividing within your community, plays right into their cards. Racists have no place in the LGBT community, ableists, misogynists, TERFs, biphobics, acephobics, alt-right, islamophobia, antisemitism has no place here. You either fight for everyone, or for no one but yourself. That’s what this is about. I usually never write anything even half this long on here, and thanks if you read all of it.
So this tattoo as a special mention goes out to Willem Arondéus, who was openly gay in a time when you shouldn’t be, who together with his group of resistance during WW2 hid Jewish people and forged their documents, bombed the Amsterdam public records office causing them to not be able to track or find any Jewish people. Who was caught and whose lasts words were “let it be known that homosexuals are not cowards”.
“It’s known as the ‘gay plague,’” Kinsolving says. A number of the reporters in the room laugh.
“I don’t have it. Do you?” Speakes retorts. More laughter.
Using never-before-heard audio tapes from three separate press conferences, in 1982, 1983, and 1984, “When AIDS Was Funny” illustrates how reporter Lester Kinsolving, a conservative fixture in the White House press corps, was consistently scoffed at when he posed urgent questions about the AIDS epidemic.