i knew i was gay when

revolutionarywarlock  asked:

Would you want to write about a Evan/Connor friendship from when they were younger, like middle school? We need more cuteness and less angst in the fandom I mean

Yes fluff is needed, enjoy some fluff.

~

Eight grade sucked. That’s what Connor decided about half way through the year. He didn’t have any friends and he definitely wasn’t normal. He would hear boys talk about girls while he thought about other boys. He was gay, he knew it. He didn’t mind but he would never dare tell anyone. 

“Um-m-may I jo-join you?”

Connor glanced up from his bangs, he was currently growing out his hair, which only added to the teasing. Connor squinted and in the sunlight made out the silhouette of Evan Hansen. Connor didn’t really know Evan, aside from the fact the boy sat in the corner away from everyone. “I mean if you’re prepared to be teased for being in my presence go ahead,” Connor gestured to the spot beside him.

Evan joined him in the shade underneath the oak tree. “I-I don’t m-mind i-if peo-people tease me,” Evan smiled lightly at the boy beside him. Connor simply shrugged, he didn’t have friends so he didn’t really know how to interact with people. 

The two sat in awkward silence before Connor finally spoke up. “Why are you here? Sitting with the freak who threw a printer at Mrs. G?” Connor questioned as he shot Evan a look. Evan shrugged as he pointed up at the oak tree. “Oak tr-trees liv-live a lo-long ti-time you kno-know,” Evan managed to stutter out.

“You’re avoiding the question,” Connor pointed out as he turned towards the other boy. Evan turned towards Connor and gave him a small, shy smile. “You looked kind of lonely,” Evan admitted, not stuttering for once.

Connor got an angry blush on his face. “I-I’m not!” Connor said harshly, why was he still blushing, why did Evan Hansen make his heart race faster when he sat down. Connor’s eyes almost widened, he had a crush on Evan Hansen. No this was not happening. “Are you-you okay?” Evan questioned, reaching out for Connor.

Connor pushed Evan’s hand away. “I-I’m fine,” Connor lied. Evan shook his head and moved closer to Connor. “A-Are you sick or something?” Evan questioned as he inspected Connor’s face. He usually wouldn’t get too close to people but Connor seemed ill. 

On impulse Connor leaned in and touched their lips together in a soft kiss, he couldn’t believe he was actually kissing a boy. When he pulled away he saw Evan’s eyes wide and shocked. Connor couldn’t believe he done this, he had his first kiss and probably stole Evan’s.

“I-I should go,” Connor blurted. He stood up as quick as possible and took off running. He wouldn’t turn around and he ignored Evan’s cries of ‘Wait’ he just kept running. By the time he got home he was sweating, and embarrassed at what he had done.

That was a moment neither spoke of. As they aged through high school, they didn’t speak about what happened under the tree but they both remembered the feeling of each other’s lips and the sun beating down on them. The kiss meant a lot to both Connor and Evan, it had been their first kisses, even if it was just two eight grade boys. 

Sometimes Connor found himself still sitting under the oak tree, it held a happy memory. “Um…hey,” Connor glanced up and it was like he was transported back in time. There stood Evan Hansen in his blue striped shirt and khaki pants, his arm adorned with a cast. “Can I sit?” Evan asked.

“I mean if you’re prepared to be ridiculed by some assholes,” Connor shrugged. Evan gave the long haired teen a soft smile as he sat down beside him, the suns rays warming both of them.

“I don’t mind,”

Kindly reminding u of the fact that he was actually going on a suicide mission in order to save john and he said he didn’t wanna die when smith was going to kill him not bc he was afraid of death but bc he knew his death would hurt john the most and he couldn’t do that to john he couldn’t die not after mary’s death so basically the only reason sherlock is alive according to his own words is people that love him and will miss him aka john watson and now i have made myself cry

anonymous asked:

Tell us a confession and secret of yours.

When I first went through puberty, everyone knew more stuff about sex than I did because I’m pretty sheltered. So I looked up gay porn and watched it whenever I was home. Not sexually but just to see what it was all about. And I kinda just watched it like tv because I didn’t even understand that people masturbated to it. 😂 I got caught though and was grounded from my laptop.

“Mario and I had been friends since the age of six. We were from the same small town in the countryside. We always kept in touch. We’d occasionally get coffee together. I knew he was gay but we never talked about it. It just didn’t come up. He never volunteered the information and I never asked. I felt that I was being respectful. At one point, I began to notice that his face was changing. He started to get very thin. But I never asked about it. Maybe I thought that he’d feel I was invading his privacy. Mario could get offended very easily. He was like a volcano. Maybe, subconsciously, I just didn’t want to get involved. When I finally knew for sure, it was too late. I visited him at the hospital the day before he died. I could only look at him through a glass window. He was covered in blankets. I felt like such an idiot. I could have asked him at any time. I could have said: ‘What are you hiding from me? Are you sick? Are you afraid I will reject you?’ Then we could have hugged each other and cried together. We could have maybe even laughed at the situation. But we never got to do that. Because I never had the balls to ask.”

(Buenos Aires, Argentina)

To Two Undiscerning Writers

Three years ago I started the Sherlock series
without any notion of any queer love theories,
I barely knew the leads would be a pair
and thus I believe my point of view was fair.

When the army doctor met the young detective,
immediately it gained an interesting perspective.
The charming gifted stranger donning a black suit
gave John Watson a wink that screamed ‘meet cute’.

So went the introduction to his new flatmate,
with Stamford as a symbolical ‘Red String of Fate’.
I hardly could believe this show was really gay,
for all we ever answer to are cold 'won’t they?’

They went on 'Not A Date’, a candle set the mood,
John said 'Do you have a boyfriend? No? Good.’
From then has been used every single love trope:
'held gaze’, 'hand holding’, 'sleep cute’, 'knee grope’.

A 'Declaration of Protection’ was Sherlock’s last stance
right before a mention of the 'Dance of Romance’.
The follow-through was an 'Aborted Declaration of Love’,
to touch John one last time, the man removed his glove.

Yet to what end my sentiments were lured
to believe in this age queer love would not be obscured
and to what aim touch them in two thousand seventeen
if still these characters aren’t allowed to kiss on-screen? 

My dear lgbt+ children, 

“When i was young, there were girls and there were boys, and the girls loved the boys, and everything was so much easier.” 

I had a conversation about this blog a few weeks ago with a women considerably older than me. She was interested and wanted to understand “all those weird words” i use in my letters. She knew what gay means and had heard bi before but wasn’t sure what it means, so you can imagine that words like pan, asexual, nonbinary, demigirl… were entirely alien to her.  

She listened and nodded to my explanations, and she didn’t say a hostile word about any label. However, when i had explained all the words she pointed out, she shook her head and said the sentence above. “…and everything was so much easier.” 

I’ve been thinking about this remark a lot. To me, it encapsulates the big thinking mistake many people fall for. 

I have said before that i grew up in a rural, small town, the same this elderly women grew up in. I’m fairly sure that there were indeed only girls and boys here in her childhood and that the girls loved the boys. In the same way, i believe there were no kids with dyscalculia living here - not because kids with learning disorders did not exist but because there was no awareness that they exist and so people just called them stupid or lazy instead. 

In fact, there have always been lgbt+ kids. They, and the people in their lives, just didn’t knew the term “lgbt+” yet. They couldn’t be their true self because society didn’t allow that yet. And so girls married boys - not because all girls loved boys but because there was no other option. 

Was that easier? Sure, for the elderly woman i talked to, it was. That’s because she was a girl who loved a boy. In her little world, all was well and she didn’t need words for anything else. It was easier - for cis heteroromantic heterosexual people. 

But all “those weird words”, all the labels we nowadays use and talk about, didn’t randomly fall down from a tree some day. We invented them because for us, for the ones who didn’t fit in that little world, it was not easy. 

The big thinking mistake, as so often, is “I don’t need this, so nobody needs this. I’m not that, so nobody is that.” or in the words of a wise little bird “I feel uncomfortable when we are not about me?” 

So, my dear, if you feel bad because you use all those fancy new words, think about the generations of lgbt+ people before you who might smile down at you from heaven now and think “Oh, finally, there’s a word for people like me!”. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Mom 

i can’t believe space dad j'onn j'onzz has known this entire time that alex danvers is a huge lesbian since he can read minds and it makes me wonder did he ever read her mind when she was trying to figure out if she’s gay?? like throughout the day she would subconsciously just think about how amazing girls are and j'onn is just like “alex are you kidding me there is no way you are straight” but being the respectful, supportive father he is he just let her figure it out and then wait for her to tell him on her own terms

there are some ultimatums i wish i had made earlier. cut myself out of pictures long beforehand. my mother told me if someone ever gave me an ultimatum to just get out of there but i think she forgot there are good ones. 

like it’s me or it’s your hate of women. like i should have stopped talking to him long before then. but he was nice when he wasn’t making those jokes and i tried to tell him. he said they weren’t hurting anyone. but why did he think i was bringing it up, then? it didn’t matter. i was young. and.

like it’s me or you keep doing those little impressions of a gay man. like i knew she thought they were funny. and she said she was totally fine with gay people. i should have known then. when she found out about me she couldn’t stop laughing. of course, she cackled, while i held hands with my girlfriend, god i knew you were weird but this is “and then some.”

it’s me or your petty racism. it’s me or how you treat waitresses. it’s me or you keep being a terrible human. i believe in you and i think you can change but the question is will you. because when i told him it’s me or your anger, he chose his anger. there are people like that. who won’t change. who don’t care enough about you. there are times you have to realize - we are two incompatible humans and flawed and maybe one of us is right or we’re both wrong but it doesn’t matter because we just don’t belong. there’s no reconciling what we’ve lost. 

she said fine. it’s me or your goddamn feminist poetry. and i smiled. because that one was easy. i just wish she hadn’t waited to ask me.

I’ve been falling in love with girls since before I even knew falling in love with girls was something I was allowed to do. Sometimes, these girls’ lives would intertwine with mine for just a fractional part of our lives - the girl I met in the park once when I was eight, with her long blonde hair, for example, or the girl with the stunning blue eyes at the week long gymnastics camp I’d gone to that summer. Other times, they’d be in my life for the long haul, like the girl who was in my class the whole way through primary school who made my heart beat faster every time I asked for one of her felt pens. Or the girl in Mrs C’s class with the smile I couldn’t help but stare at every time I looked at yearbook photos. Now and again, they’d be sort of inbetween - my violin teacher, who I saw once a week who sort of smelled like jasmine, or the girl in the year above me who always wore Converse to school even though we weren’t allowed. When she graduated a year before me, I missed seeing her brown curls bounce as she walked into assembly every Wednesday morning.

But yet, this love never seemed like love. “What was love?” I asked myself when I was ten or eleven. Love was what I felt for the boy in the pantomime I’d gone to see who was decently attractive and around my age. Love was what I felt for the boy in my form class in first year. “I could love him,” I told myself as the sunlight hit his face one Tuesday morning in Home Ec. Love was what I felt for boys, what I’d have felt for my boyfriend had I been pretty enough to get one, what I’d feel for my husband when I got older. But I never really did feel it.

What if love to me was what I felt for the girl who sat across from me in Biology who was so beautiful I became “jealous” of her? What if love was why I couldn’t help staring at that third year girl every Thursday afternoon as we passed in the corridor before Maths? What if love to me meant girls?

I mean, I had pondered why girls had to love smelly old boys in the canteen line aged six. Eventually, I acknowledged that my brief infatuation with other girls was, in fact, infatuation.

From my violin teacher, the girl in the park, the girl in my class when I was seven, eight, nine, to the waitress at that restaurant in town who said my shirt was cute last week. To the girl who’d said my eyes were pretty on Instagram on Wednesday. To the girl in the changing rooms before netball practice yesterday who said my long hair was beautiful.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving girls. And yeah, sometimes it shocks me how the strength of my love didn’t break through the secrets and the lies and gravitate me towards that realisation sooner, but I guess the only thing that can bury love that strong is hate even stronger.

—  random thoughts I had at 3am some night last week
It’s crazy. You’re raised to believe that when you meet “the one” you’re supposed to feel nervous, uncomfortable, anxious. But I met you, and everything felt right. I wasn’t scared because for whatever reason I knew I could trust you. I knew I could be myself with you. Since day one. I knew I could laugh like a fucking seal, that I could sing like no one was listening even though you were right next to me. I could say the weirdest shit with my delirious 3 am thoughts and you would giggle and agree. Or you’d make fun of me. But even then when you’re laughing at me I don’t feel vulnerable, because you do dumb shit too and I love it. I love that we can just be us.
That’s how it should feel. That’s how it should always feel.
—  Morning thoughts when you’re in my bed.
Reaction to Yuri on Ice EP9

Episode 8 wasn’t as gay as episode 7 but I think episode 9 made up for that. 

The ending scene where Yuri was already in the airport made a lot of people hold their breath. I for one didn’t expect anyone to go to him in the airport because in episode 1 no one picked him up so I thought it would happen again. BUT NO! When I saw Maccachin I knew Victor was there!

When the Camera showed Victor he did not have the usually smile or happy aura around him. It was like he was in deep thought until Maccachin became excited by seeing Yuri. Vitor seemed like a totally different person when he was waiting, besides his happy aura he sort of looked like a mess. Not the drunken mess but the mess that involves a lot of thinking or even over analyzing. Was the separation for him that hard? 

Victor’s expression here looks so real, it was like you haven’t seen the one you loved in a long time and you don’t know what will happen with the two of you now that they are back. Compared to couples who could be having a long distant relationship and have been separated for years or months, Yuri and Victor have just been separated for 2 days and he is already so worried. I never thought I would see Victor with this much emotion, it felt so real.  

When they were running they didn’t break eye contact with each other. It can be seen that Yuri didn’t expect Victor to be there to pick him up but when he saw Victor it was like a dream come true, he really didn’t expect him to be there at all. The fact that they didn’t break eye contact was like they were so relieved that they can finally see each other again after being apart for so long (Which was only 2 days) . This scene alone really made it seem like it was happening in real life by just the emotion the viewer can feel. 

When Victor was waiting for him with his arms stretched out it was just like a scene from real life where you are waiting for your love ones. It really looked like Yuri was about to cry when he saw Victor waiting for him with his arms spread out. Victor looked like he was still dreaming and couldn’t believe that Yuri was finally back home.

The look in Yuri’s eyes were the look as if he couldn’t believe Victor was there. It really showed all the worry he had while being away from Victor. It was like all the emotions or feeling he has been keeping in since Victor left where now coming back up and making their way out of him. He had so much pent up feelings that it was about to burst but being in Victor’s arms seemed to make it all go away little by little. 

The look Vitor had here was like he was relieved with what Yuri requested. It was as if all the things he was worrying about and thinking about were all put at eased when Yuri asked him to be his coach until he retires. It was a huge weight of Victor’s chest because he was so confused on how to become a better coach to Yuri. 

Over all this episode had the most emotion in it. It may look like a regular episode but when this scene hits you it can’t help but make you really feel what they are feeling. It was like the scene was pulled out of a movie or a real life situation.

Okay but think about this: blizzard already knew that tracer was gay.

(Well yeah duh) hold on I’m getting to the good part

making comics takes a while to make, you can’t just churn one out in a night. So they knew, they freaking knew, that when they decided to make tracer the face of overwatch they knew they were making a lesbian the face of their game.

Well done blizzard, I’m proud of you.

My asexuality/”why awareness is important” story

When I was a teen, growing up in a small town in 1980s Mississippi, there were only 2 options as far as I knew:  Either you were gay or your were straight.  Because I was exceedingly liberal for the time and place (though probably less liberal than I am now) and because I wanted desperately to leave Mississippi, I spent a lot of time learning as much as I could about the outside world.  I spent hours at the library my high school shared with the local university reading the Village Voice and dreaming of going in New York City.    Because of this, and because I was a huge fan of Erasure, I figured out that there was nothing wrong with being gay.  Which was good, because I knew I wasn’t straight.  I couldn’t be:  I liked looking at pretty guys too much, and I got crushes on my male friends.

On the other hand, I also knew that I liked looking at pretty girls too, and I regularly developed crushes on my female friends.  So I lay awake at night, my thoughts spinning in my head  “I like boys, so I can’t be straight.  But I like girls, so I can’t be gay.  But I like boys…”  Repeat ad nauseum.

Fast forward to the early 90s.  I was going to college in New Orleans.  This exposed me to much more of the world than I would have seen had I remained in Mississippi.  But it didn’t bring me any closer to figuring things out until my second semester, when there was a rash of people in the dorm coming out as bisexual.  Aha!  A lightbulb went on in my head.  THIS must be what I was.  I could like both boys and girls!  But something still didn’t feel right.  Though I made out with people and liked it, I passed up chances to have sex with people of both genders.  Finally one of my female friends basically harassed me into sleeping with her (at the time I didn’t recognize date rape for what it was - the early 90s were a much less aware time, at least for me).  And when I met the woman who later became my wife, she was the one who made the first move sexually, as well as the second and third moves and most of the others.  

Fast forward again, last 2015.  My wife and I are still together and have had 2 kids.  But no one looking at our sex life would ever mistake it for a “normal” sex life (to the extent that there is such a thing).  But I still feel that something’s not right.  I’m not unhappy, but at the same time, my main feeling about sex is a resounding “meh.”  I research various fetishes and relationship styles on the internet, but nothing really feels right - some seem like they might be a lot of fun, but the whole idea just collapses for me once genitals get involved.  When I watch a TV show about pickup artists, and besides being repulsed at all the dishonesty involved, my thought is “That seems like an awful lot of work for sex.”  

Then one day I stumbled on a page about the difference between romantic orientation and sexual orientation.  And then I learn about asexuality.  And finally, after all this time, I figured it out.  I’m panromantic and asexual.  All of a sudden so many things from my past made sense.  SO MANY THINGS!  And while I’m very glad that I understand it now, I’m also rather frustrated at the time lost because I didn’t have this knowledge years and years before.  I could have been spared so much mental anguish and so many sleepless nights if I had known.

Which brings us to why I think awareness is important:  Because kids aren’t going to be straight just because they don’t know about the alternatives.  They’ll still be whatever they are; they’ll just feel confused and agitated and WRONG because they don’t fit in to the alternatives that they’ve been told about.

things that make you a good ally;
• attending protests
• signing petitions
• raising/donating money to lgbt charities
• listening to lgbt people about their experiences
things that don’t automatically make you a good ally;
• having a gay otp