pray the gay away

soc characters as popular tweets #1

kaz brekker: fun prank: put $10000 in an envelope and mail it to me

inej ghafa: everything is free if you can run fast enough

nina zenik: I hate when I try to order a salad and my mouth says, “I’ll have a double Quarter Pounder with Cheese.”

jesper fahey: Write the name of someone you hate on your body everyday in permanent marker, so no matter how you die they’ll become a suspect.

wylan van eck: yea i do crimes; i’m a real bad kid. they even got me for possession once *eyes roll back into head, everything in the room begins to float*

matthias helvar:  “Wow the club is really dead tonight,” I say as I sheath my sword and admire the enemies I have slain. “Bartender I would like an alcohol”

kuwei yul-bo: If you can “pray the gay away” can you “pray the gay onto someone”?

There’s this whole wonderful “progressive” movement that tells parents “don’t worry, your gender non conforming child isn’t an icky gay! They’re just the opposite sex!”

And isn’t it super neat that this very progressive movement lines up very neatly with conservative thought, that being gay is wrong, and bad, and unnatural? Now you can hate us, condemn gays and lesbians, and still get to claim a sweet and trendy progressive label!

pandasubaru  asked:

AU Ideas: 4 (with Artist Steve?? that'd be amazing) or 13 or 15

  • 15: My friend made me a grindr/tinder profile without me knowing and you liked my profile and then sent me a message which just said ‘Bees?’ and I’m a little confused but intrigued.

— —

Steve’s phone buzzes.

“If this is another Grindr notification, I swear to God—“ Steve starts.

“That you’ll answer it and go get laid?” Sam says. Natasha snickers.

“That I’ll kick your ass,” Steve says.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Will you?” he asks.

“Yes, I will!” Steve says.

“He’s very scrappy,” Natasha says. “He once managed to scratch me.”

“Check your messages,” Sam says.

Steve sighs, rolls his eyes, and pulls out his phone. He reads the notification from wintersoldat3255. It says, Bees? and nothing else.

He holds the phone up to Sam. “See?” he says. “See the weirdos who message me because you made this profile?”

Sam takes the phone from Steve, reads the message, and snorts. “Okay, well, maybe they’re not all winners. Let’s see what he…” he trails off, eyes going wide. “Shit, those are some pectorals.”

“Oh, pass it here,” Natasha says, taking the phone. Even Natasha — who is rarely impressed — raises her eyebrows. “Maybe you should see what this guy has to say,” she says, passing the phone back to Steve after a long moment.

“I’ve seen what he has to say, and what he has to say is ‘bees’, apparently.”

“It was a question,” Sam says. “You should change your intonation.”

Steve exhales. “Bees?” he asks, exaggerating the raised end of the question. “That better?”

“Very,” Sam says. “Now let’s look at your other prospects.”

Steve gets up to get another round of drinks.

— —

He doesn’t know why he goes back to Grindr that night, after he’s back home and has had a few drinks. It’s not that he wants to get laid — honestly, he doesn’t want to get out of bed — but he’s sort of curious about who saw his photos and thought ‘yeah, I’d hit that’.

He scrolls through a few generic messages, then sees the one from wintersoldat3255.

Bees?

What the fuck.

So he types out, what the fuck? and sends it back to the guy.

He doesn’t expect an answer — the guy messaged him hours ago — but it only takes a minute or so before he gets a response:

You say save the bees in your profile, which is noble and everything, but I know for a FACT that you’re allergic to bees.

First of all, Steve is a little heartened knowing that Sam knows him well enough to include the fact that the bees need to be put on the endangered species list and should be protected on his dating profile. But then he realizes that this guy… somehow knows that Steve is allergic to bees, which is creepy as hell.

No I’m not, Steve lies, calling the guy’s bluff.

No, you are. I’m the one who shoved an Epipen in your thigh after you got stung during Gilmore Hodge’s birthday party and his mom was too freaked out to do anything about it.

Steve stares at the message, then shakes his head. It can’t be right! The person who stuck the Epipen in his thigh during Gilmore Hodge’s birthday party was Bucky Barnes, and this guy can’t be Bucky Barnes.

Can he?

Steve quickly clicks over to his profile. He scrolls through the pictures, but there aren’t any of his face, just abs and pecs, which makes Steve roll his eyes a little. When he goes back to his messages he has another from wintersoldat3255:

Yeah Steve, it’s me.

Steve’s eyes go wide.

Bucky? he asks.

Long time no see.

Can’t actually see your face, so I don’t really know it’s you.

A photo appears. It’s of Bucky Barnes, mugging for the camera with a toothy grin.

You wanna catch up? Bucky writes.

Sure. Where are you? Steve asks, heart beating fast.

It’s Grindr. The whole point is that you can see.

Steve rolls his eyes, they make plans to meet-up at a local 24-hour diner in a half hour, and Steve saves the photo that Bucky sent him, just in case.

— —

Bucky is already sitting in a booth when Steve walks in. He perks up, grins, and waves. “Steve!” he calls.

Steve straightens up a little, takes a breath. He shouldn’t be so nervous; it’s not like there’s anything riding on this. He’s just seeing his childhood best friend for the first time in over ten years. No big deal.

Doesn’t help that Bucky was Steve’s first crush, but no big deal, either.

He walks over, and Bucky’s just grinning at him, like he’s the best thing he’s seen in years. “Hey Buck,” Steve says.

“Steve,” Bucky says, kind of breathy. “Wow, you look fantastic.”

Steve shrugs. “I look like me,” he says. “Don’t have abs like you do, apparently.”

Bucky laughs, ducks his head. “I’ll be honest — my friends made that profile for me. I thought Peter was taking pictures for his art class of me at the gym.”

“Why didn’t he include his face?” Steve asks. “It’s not like your face is a bad one.”

Bucky laughs. “Thanks for that, I think.” He pauses, starts playing with the edge of the plastic menu on the table in front of him. “And it’s because I’m out but I’m not out out.”

“Okay?” Steve says, a little confused.

“Anyhow, what have you been up to? How’s life? Do you still like pancakes? Because this place has the best pancakes.”

— —

It’s weird how easy it is, reconnecting with Bucky. Steve never spent much effort trying to find him after they lost touch. He just assumed that Bucky thought he was too cool for him when they got to high school, and it was almost a relief when he moved away during the summer before their junior year, just so Steve wouldn’t have to be reminded of the best friend he lost.

He wants to ask Bucky about it, but he doesn’t have to. Bucky just opens up during their second round of milkshakes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” Steve asks.

“For when I stopped talking to you during high school. I know that it must’ve made you feel like shit.”

Steve fidgets. He doesn’t want to answer that.

“You know my parents were in a bad place.”

“They got divorced, right?” he asks.

Bucky nods. “But the last two years were… really bad.” He pauses, clears his throat. “I wasn’t hanging out with a great crowd. And I think I justified not talking to you because I didn’t want you to get involved with that crowd. But I more just think that I didn’t want you talking me out of the bad shit I was doing.”

Steve remembers the way that Bucky walked down the halls with his friends, rolling his eyes at Steve when he tried to talk to him. Of course, Steve tried to talk to him, tried having a showdown of some kind, but Bucky would just… walk away. He never bothered listening.

It hurt.

“And then my parents got divorced and my mom and I moved in with my Uncle Pierce, and…” He trails off.

“That’s the uncle who I met that one time, right? Who said I should be sent to a pray away the gay camp?”

“We had no money,” Bucky says.

“How was it?”

“I joined the Army as soon as I could,” Bucky says with a weak smile.

“Shit,” Steve says.

He shrugs. “I’m out now, and I’m doing pretty well for myself. Got my issues, but everyone else does.” Steve nods. “And besides, I’m free to do whatever I want now, so.”

“So you’re spending your time on Grindr?” Steve asks.

“You are, too!” Bucky says.

“My friends made me a profile!”

“No, Steve, you can’t take that excuse. I already used it.” He’s laughing, and Steve kicks him underneath the table.

“It’s true!”

“Yeah, yeah, Steve Rogers.” He stops laughing, just smiles. “Steve Rogers,” he repeats, quieter.

“That’s my name,” he says. The ‘don’t wear it out’ is implied.

He glances down at his shake, and stirs it with his straw. “I wanted to find you again for a while,” he admits, still looking down. “I debated about sending you a message for about an hour before I did.”

“I’m glad you did,” Steve says. “I’ve wondered a lot about what happened to you.”

“Do you think…” Bucky starts, looking up. He clears his throat. “Do you think that we could meet again sometime? I just… I feel like this is a second chance, and I don’t wanna mess it up.”

“I’d like to see you again,” Steve says, stomach tingling, and not from the milkshake.

“Cool,” Bucky says, and Steve feels his foot shift against his. He doesn’t move it away.

Steve doesn’t mind, just presses his own foot closer to Bucky’s, and looks forward to their future together.

anonymous asked:

Poetry prompt: Don't pray the gay away, just pray it in.

did you hear the rumor that joshua and thomas made out?
it was over summer break, at the skateboard park, the air beesting-
heavy and churning with heat. they hid together
in the shadows of the tallest ramp. joshua offered his scraped,
bloody palms to thomas, and thomas pressed his mouth
to both wounds carefully. they were not thinking about how
we were circling around them, how we might have discovered them
at any moment, with hands under shirts, with lips everywhere.
i didn’t find out about it till later, but when it happened,
one of them must’ve choked out, “God,” because on that day,
for just one moment, i could’ve sworn i heard
the faintest beginnings of music–

me looking through the comments of Katy’s HRC speech and seeing right-wing fundamentalists, conspiracy theorists and little monsters dragging her after she opened up about her parents sending her to a jesus camp where they forced her to pray the gay away 

For those in the Queer community who are closeted and afraid,

I was 11 when I was forced out of the closet. Mom found out I liked girls, and she basically locked me in a room with her. She beat my ass, told me I would go to Hell, forced me to start “praying the gay away,” and left it at that.

Ten years later, mom was the one to call and ask about hormone replacement therapy (HRT) for me. She was the one who helped schedule my top surgery and set up my insurance. She took me to my appointments. Annnnnd She broke down into tears and apologized about the way that she treated me when I was 11.

Some parents can change, don’t lose hope.

youtube

i asked god to fix my gayness, here’s what he had to say