#tw conversion

[thediktatortot]

"target audience Byler"

"Tags Billy Hargrove"

Hmm I think Byler is NOT your intended audience. You people really do love fantasizing about hate crimes in a haha fun way don't you. The internalized homophobia is still running strong in you people.

Also block list

[wildestdreamcatcher]

i would love to see a fic where Kurt kind of confronts jude out of jealousy for Summer and also some of the shit he did to her in the past

Dead Girl

Summary: Kurt confronts Jude while also reflecting on her relationship with Summer

TW: Mentions of sex, drug use, going to jail, mentions of abusive relationships and being forced to convert, being comphet, mentions of cheating

I looked at Summer in the crowd as I performed the song about our relationship: I knew she knew it was about us by the way she grimaced before kissing Jude, possibly trying to distract him from the lyrics. I was shocked when I saw her hooking up in the van with Jude and even more shocked when she told me they had been dating for 6 months. A little over a year ago, Summer and I started whatever it was we had going on. She had been the one to initiate the hook-up after she kissed me in my bedroom and almost begged me to touch her. Summer didn’t even have to beg, I would’ve done anything she wanted. It had been going on for almost 4 months: I wanted to be with her so badly but maybe it was my own fear and her compulsory heterosexuality that ruined us. We both knew she was bisexual but she’d rather be dead than admit that.

It was past 12 and the club was about to close after I performed. I stood there packing up when Jude came backstage, he looked furious. I don’t know why I was friends with him after all the shit he did: I still can’t believe that the same person who had been arrested 3 times, lied like his life depended on it and tried to snort coke off his fucking skateboard is the same person dating the “good little Catholic girl” and trying so hard to impress her parents and all her friends. I still don’t buy his act.

“What the fuck, Kurt!!” He yelled across the room. 

“What’s your problem?”

“That petty ass song you performed in front of everyone!! I’m not fucking stupid! I know it’s about Summer! Whatever crush or obsession you have with her needs to stop. I can’t help she didn’t like you back, I can’t help it you never said anything to her, you have to live with that decision now!!” 

I wondered if Jude knew we had way more in common than anyone thought: we both knew the way Summer always smelled like vanilla, the way she only wore Victoria’s Secret for special occasions, her lipgloss or liquid lipstick always stained your face after being kissed, we both knew the side of Summer no one else did. I got my chance with Summer, long before he did.

“It’s just a fucking song, Jude!! No one bitches at you for the songs you or Kai write: Kai writes secretly blasts Aria in all of his songs and you don’t say shit to him!”

“Aria isn’t my girlfriend! You don’t care that this could be fucking embarrassing if anyone else finds out it’s about Summmer!!”

“You didn’t care that you were embarrassing your parents, your sister, me, Kai, or Mindy!! I’ll never understand why Summer trusts you but you’re just an insecure, piece of shit little boy. That’s all you’ve ever been and that’s all you ever will be!!” I screamed. I almost hurt my throat yelling at him so hard. 

“Whatever Kurt!! Fuck off!! If you wanna be a petty little bitch for the rest of your life, be my fucking guest!!”

Jude stormed off. If I was as petty as he claimed: I would’ve told him all the times Summer snuck into my room, barely able to get her words out because she wanted me so badly. How she’d get drunk and tell me she wished I was a boy and that she thought we were soulmates. I wasn’t a saint either while I was hooking up with Summer but I never claimed to be: I was on and off with Caleb at the time but she knew that and I don’t think I nor Summer cared. Caleb treated me like shit, he abused me, made me convert when I didn’t want to, I knew he cheated on me too so it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. She wasn’t perfect either but she knew that. 

Maybe neither I nor Jude deserved to be with Summer but I didn’t care. If I was bad, he was worse.

@sadlonelyyogurt @vommitgirl @blowflygrls

[writingwithcolor]

OwnStories: Two Indian friends joke about converting each other to their respective religions (Islam, Christianity)

Anon said:

i'm a Tamil Roman Catholic writing two Indian best friends. one is Bengali + Muslim, and the other is Malayali + St. Thomas Christian. both are actively religious, and have a running joke where they kid about converting each other. they are both content with their own religions and love each other, but still joke about converting the other. i have similar jokes with my own friends, but i am unsure of whether this would be offensive in writing?

Should be ok, but with caveats

Just a disclaimer: I’m including some points for anyone thinking of doing this.

As a member of a minority religion that’s undergone forcible conversion attempts throughout most of our history and currently faces religious based systemic oppression in all the South Asian countries we live in, I would not be comfortable with these jokes, especially if there was a systemic power imbalance between the people making the jokes.

I don’t think all jokes about religion are bad - before writing jokes about conversion, look into historical and current systems of oppression. Or are there currently missionaries using predatory tactics in their areas to convert others? While you’ve already specified that the characters are best friends, the relationship between the characters should also be taken into consideration.

I personally only make jokes like this with my other Sikh friends about converting each other to other sects and I would not stay friends with someone who joked about converting me to their religion, especially if there was ever force implied. In India, there’s no systematic power imbalance between Muslims & Christians - you’re probably fine, but hearing a diverse set of opinions won’t hurt.

- SK

The Importance of Boundaries

The important thing is your protagonists need to have boundaries. They don't have to establish them in-story, but you have to know what they are when writing that dialogue.

Story time: when I was a freshman in college, a fellow Indian girl in choir befriended me. We ate lunch and talked about life, as well as classes. Then she tried to convert me to Christianity, while recommending A Voice in the Wind. I think I was polite and explained my cynicism, namely my dad dying despite all the prayers my Hindu family gave. Her response was to use a parable from the Bible, which again, I didn't believe in, to try and prove her point. In hindsight, that was super uncomfortable.

This is why boundaries are important. Real friends can establish what is okay and what's not when making these jokes.

- Jaya

Probably OK

From my perspective, I don’t see much wrong with this, if only because my desi Muslim friends and I do this a lot in the US. This obviously wouldn’t work back home. Islamic conversion of Hindus historically has a lot of baggage and certainly, the current tactics of Hindutva against Sikhs, Christians and Muslims would add another nasty layer. Not to mention little things like how the relationship between India and Pakistan is often used as fodder for religious conflict. However, I think the relationship between Islam and Christianity in India is akin to the relationship Islam and Hinduism have in the US (That is to say, in both contexts, the religions involved are minority religions with members that experience oppression from the members of the majority religion). 

Like you, I honestly like that my friends and I can joke about our religions. It beats fighting over them like people do back home and takes a lot of the sting out of history. It’s also a great coping strategy for us as a way to deal with the persistent, aggressive and sometimes violent confrontations we experience with members of various forms of Christianity in the US. That said, you might want to give some consideration as to where you set this story or the context within which your characters make these jokes. As you no doubt are already aware, a Muslim and a Christian joking about conversion in India will feel very different to members of other religions who overhear their banter. If you have any Sikh or Hindu friends, it might be worth your time to hear their opinions.

 I wish you luck with this story. Any work of fiction that can get desis to calm the heck down when it comes to religion is probably good for us.

- Marika.

[anonymous-gay]

I think about how conversion, especially within C*tholicism and Chr*stianity, has always poked at the one thing that a lot of people hold dear, life, whether it is your own or people you love, a lot. They dangle basic necessity like food and water in front of you and say you can have them for you and those you love if you convert. They look you in the eye and say they love you but that you will eternally suffer if you don't convert. They will tear your city walls down and threaten death all out of the kindness in their hearts. That your soul's worth is dictated by your belief in a god rather then by your actions in life because you could be the kindest person but still be dammed because you don't believe. That you are a lesser person for not converting and society should be rid of you.

How many places converted "peacefully" when in reality it was out of fear?

How many people converted because they wanted to live?

And how many of these are retold as triumphant tales of love and kindness instead of ones of fearmongering hate and twisted words?

And what's so cruel is that they know this all. That people will go to extremes to live. That people will move mountains for their children. They know all of this and claim you are the dammed one for not praying to their blood soaked cross.

[yikesharringrove]

I both really want to read a conversion camp fic and really fucking DONT lol but I trust you to do it well and not absolutely destroy us so... I am asking for you to write the conversion camp fic please.

Oh, my plan is to absolutely destroy you all with this one.

This is modern bc it wasn’t gonna be but then I wrote a part and it kinda had to be lol

TW: religion, homophobia, transphobia (nd Steve), conversion camp, anxiety, depression, physical abuse, the word r*pe is thrown around, suicidal ideations, basically, it’s a DOOZY

Seriously, this shit gets DARK. I have A LOT of untapped emotions.

But it has a happy ending, don’t worry

-

Steve’s hands were shaking as they dug through his bag.

They had already pulled out the eyeshadow palette he had tried to sneak in, needed something to make himself feel okay in this inevitable Hell.

“Did you receive our guidelines?” They had found the lipstick he had shoved in one of his shoes. “We specifically outlined prohibited items.” He took a shaky breath. “Your perversion is much deeper than anticipated, Mr. Harrington.” He just nodded.

He was shuffled about, led to a cold blank room.

His first meeting with a conversion specialist.

“What is your infatuation with women’s things?” The man’s voice made Steve feel like there was cold water dripping down his back.

“I just like pretty things.”

“Why do you deny your manhood?”

“I don’t.”

“You say that, but you do. Every time you pretend you’re a woman-”

“I don’t pretend I’m a woman. I just like makeup and stuff.” He gave Steve a disgusted look.

“By denying your true self, you have turned your back on God. You have allowed the devil to infiltrate your soul, to convince you that these perversions are okay.” He looked down at the paper in his lap, the forms Steve had been forced to sit and fill out with his parents. “You were not close with your father, were you?”

“Um, no. Not really.”

“So you pushed away your male role model?”

“He pushed me away, more like.” The man pursed his lips.

“A father does not push away his son unless there is something evil within him. A father can always tell when there is something wrong, something disgusting in his offspring.” He stood up, towering over Steve.

“You are disgusting, Steven Harrington. You are perverse and foul. You turn your back on your Creator. But you are not without a savior. You can be saved. Denounce the devil that tempts you to this life. Follow your savior, and He will lead you to safety.” He held out his hand. Steve took a breath, and shook it.

-

Steve’s first day was a fucking nightmare.

He was led to his room, a small room with two bunked beds and no doors. He was told he’d have three roommates, and if they were caught touching one another, the punishment would be painful.

And then it was group therapy.

He sat in a circle with ten of the other boys from the program. They were forced to discuss every attraction they had ever felt to anyone besides women. They were forced to discuss sexual encounters they had had with men, and call themselves disgusting.

And as it was Steve’s turn, and he talked about wearing panties, and fingering himself, and sucking Tommy’s dick, and he felt disgusting.

At dinner he met one of his roommates, and his heart sank.

“Where’d they scrape you up?” The guy was fucking gorgeous.

“Indiana.”

“And you just a homo? Or...?” The guy’s voice trailed off as he looked Steve up and down. “You one a’ them crossdressers, too?” Steve flushed deeply.

“How, how did you know?”

“Because you look like they got to you already. Means they got something on you. Make you feel real bad about yourself.”

“How, how long have you been here?”

“Long enough. Seen plenty a’ boys come and go. Some cured, some just a lost cause.” He was so nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Why, why so long?” He grinned at Steve, sharp and beautiful.

“Because I’m immune, Pretty Boy.” Steve’s breath hitched. The guy licked over his teeth. “Can’t beat the gay outta me if they tried. And they fuckin’ have.”

“But why, why don’t you want to change? I mean, they’re, they’re right.” His blue eyes went cold.

“They got you deep. Damn, you might be the quickest turn around I’ve ever seen.”

“I just, I don’t want to be wrong anymore.” He leaned closer to Steve.

“You have never been wrong.” Steve felt like he was gonna cry.

A firm hand clapped down on Steve’s shoulder.

“William, I hope you’re treating our new guest nicely.” William’s face fell immediately.

“Yes, Father.” Steve looked up to see a priest holding onto him. His hair was greying and neat. His eyes were cold and dead.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take Steven with me.” Steve followed him, eyes downcast, all the way to his office. “Steven, my name is Father Andrew. I’m here to help you.” Steve didn’t like his smile. “We’re going to meet everyday at 8:30 pm for your therapy.”

He pulled out a folder from the bottom drawer of his desk. He placed a photograph in front of Steve with a flourish.

It was porn.

It was fucking gay porn.

He stood in front of Steve, leaning against the desk, off to the side of the image.

“Tell me what you see here.” One of the men had dark hair. He was being taken from behind by the other man, his blond hair and bright eyes stirred something in Steve.

“Two men. Having sex.”

He didn’t see Father Andrew’s hand, just heard the crack of it against his cheek.

His eyes watered, his cheek burned.

“What do you see?”

“Two perverts.”

“What are they doing?”

“Defiling one another.”

“Good, Steven. You’re learning.”

He placed another photograph down. This time, the man being fucked had a full face of makeup, tears making the dark eyeliner run as he was on his back, hands cuffed to the bed. The man fucking him was smirking at the camera, tongue between his teeth.

“How does this make you feel?”

“Disgusted.”

“Why?”

“That they, they would touch each other like that.”

“Do you have fantasies like this? Of being tied up by another man? Raped by another man?”

And the answer, the answer was technically yes. He had plenty of fantasies of being tied up, taken rough, taken dirty.

But rape. That’s a strong fucking word.

“No, Father.” Another crack. Another slap.

“Lying is a sin, Steven.”

“I, I don’t want to be, to be raped.” Another slap.

“Lying is a sin, Steven.”

“Yes, yes Father. I have had fantasies.”

“These are not fantasies, these are perversions planted in your mind by demons, by the devil trying to pull you away from Christ our Lord. Do not let these demons lead you astray.”

He pulled out another picture.

Steve’s heart fucking stopped.

It was a picture of himself. A nude he had taken for Tommy.

He was wearing pretty lingerie, pouting to the camera. He remembers taking it, remembers putting on his makeup, posing over and over until he took one he liked. They must’ve gone through his phone, through his texts.

“Why do you dress like a woman?”

“Be-because I’m disgusting.” And the thing is, Steve had been told plenty of times that day that he’s disgusting, and he had begun to believe it.

“Good, Steven. You are disgusting. Do you believe you’re a woman?”

“No, Father.”

“Then why have you been experimenting with women’s things?”

“I believed I wasn’t a man.”

“And are you a man?”

“Yes, Father.”

“God made you a man.”

“Yes, Father.” Steve still didn’t like his smile.

He switched the image.

And it was another one of his nudes. This time he was in a skirt, kneeling with his back to the mirror, one hand spreading his cheeks, showing off the silver plug in his ass.

He even remembers the text he had sent with it.

Tommy had been studying for a test, so Steve sent that picture and said but im lonely :( and Tommy had replied I’ll be there in twenty.

“Why do you have an obsession with your anus?” Steve could feel the blood drain from his face.

“I, uh, it feels good.” Another slap.

“How does spitting in the face of your Heavenly Father feel good, Steven? Sodomy does not feel good.” Another slap. Steve’s face felt like it was on fire.

“I’m sorry, Father. I am vile, and disgusting.” Steve was sobbing, felt so fucking pathetic, trying to look anywhere but the printed image of himself.

“I think that’s enough for tonight. I expect you here tomorrow after dinner.”

Steve fucking ran back to his room.

The other boys were asleep. He climbed into the top bunk, curling into himself.

He felt disgusting, he felt foul and wrong and bad.

He tried to stifle his sobs into his pillow, the scratchy case muffling his panic attack.

“Hey, Stevie.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be quiet.” There was a sigh, breath fanning over his face.

And then the boy from earlier was swinging himself into bed with him, curling against him.

“They said-”

“I know exactly what times they patrol. I’ll leave your bed before then.” He sighed. “First night’s always the hardest. You just gotta get through. Tell them what they wanna hear, but remember that they’re fucking wrong. You are valid, and real. Being gay is not disgusting.”

Steve curled into him, letting himself be comforted.

“Thank you. Thank you, William.”

“Oh, Christ. Call me Billy.”

“Thank you, Billy.”

-

As time passed, it was easy to retreat into himself.

He met with Father Andrew every night, got slapped and hit when his answers weren’t condemning enough.

But each night, Billy would crawl into bed with him, would hold him when he broke down.

The kiss was inevitable.

It happened after Steve had an extreme day, the beating he received when he had admitted to being nonbinary, that he had asked his friends at home to use other pronouns.

And Billy had said you’re perfect the way you are, Sweet Thing.

And Steve kissed him.

And Steve wanted to die.

-

“Forgive me, Father. For I have sinned.” Steve took a shaking breath.

He was kneeling in the small confessional.

They had Mass every three days, and confession each Friday.

“It has been one week since my last confession.” He took a deep breath. He needed to get this of his chest, needed to get the punishment he deserved. “Father, I, the feelings have not gone away. There is, there’s a boy, and I, I love him. And I try not to. I try not to look at him, to remember the devil is leading me astray. But Father, I think about him. I think about him often.”

“This is an extremely grievous sin, my son.”

“I know, Father. Please help me. I want to, I want to be pure. To be free of this sin, this temptation.”

“I offer, as penance for your sins, to pray a rosary for each time you have had an evil thought about your fellow man this week. As you ponder the Mysteries of the rosary, consider how God created you, how Jesus died for you, and you wipe your feet on their love.”

“Yes, Father.”

“And our meeting will be arduous tonight, Steven.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Now please, recite the Act of Contrition.”

Steve’s hands shook as he recited the prayer, finishing his confession with Father Andrew.

-

“Now, Steven. You discussed having impure thoughts today.”

Steve’s knees ached from praying the rosary so many times earlier today. He hadn’t eaten, had gone straight to the Chapel after his confession.

He wanted to pray, to cleanse himself.

And he didn’t want to risk seeing Billy.

“Yes, Father.”

“And you mentioned that you love another boy.”

“The devil is trying to make me think it’s love.” Father Andrew smiled his empty smile down at Steve.

“That’s right Steven. Because love cannot exist between two men. Love is a beautiful thing created and given to us by The Lord God.” Father Andrew leaned over Steve, made him shrink back in his seat. “Which is why you are unlovable as you are. You are foul and vile. You may be loved if you change.”

He grabbed Steve’s hair, holding his head still as he slapped his face.

And Steve let him.

He was foul, he was vile.

He deserved the pain.

-

Two months.

That’s how long it took Steve to “graduate”.

He left the facility in clean khakis, a nice sweater his mother had sent him to wear home.

Billy had left a week and a half prior.

He was deemed a lost cause.

Steve’s mother was there to pick him up, hugged him tight and told him how happy she was that he was fixed.

He was quiet as they drove, watching the shadows the summer sun cast on the side of the plain flat road.

“Your father will be pleased. You’ve made such wonderful progress. Free of all those delusions.”

They passed Tommy’s house.

He felt sick.

-

The first thing Steve did when he got home was destroy all his make up.

He took everything feminine from it’s hiding spot in the back of his closet.

He scraped out the eye shadow, smeared the lipstick all over his dresses.

He cut up his lingerie, shoved everything into a black garbage back, driving into town to toss it in the dumpster behind the gas station.

He wanted it away, he wanted it gone. He wanted to be pure.

-

His hands shook as he zipped up the suitcase.

He didn’t have much in there, was planning on taking enough to get him through a little while, then maybe buying some things, some pretty things.

His parents were asleep downstairs, he was planning on being long gone by the time they woke up.

He put on his backpack, taking his wallet and tiptoeing down the stairs, his shoes in his hand.

He had a plan, would drive to the bus station, leave his car there.

Someone will find it, and at that point, he’ll be long gone.

He bought a bus ticket to Chicago, paid in cash and gave a fake name.

He was fucking out of here.

They were fucking out of here.

-

“As I live, and fucking breathe.”

Steve startled as a hand came down on their shoulder.

They startled again when they turned around, came face to face with a ghost from the past.

“B-Billy?” Billy’s hair was longer than it had been at the camp. His smile was lazier, his eyes brighter. Steve’s gut gave an excited little flutter as he looked them up and down.

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous, Pretty Boy.” Steve flushed, adjusting their dress. It was new.

It had been three years since the camp. One year of Steve living in pain, until they packed their shit, and moved to the Golden Coast. They left in the middle of the fucking night, ran away like a scared child, never looking back.

And here was the love of their goddamn life, in some hole in the wall coffee shop in San Fransisco.

“It’s uh, it’s not Pretty Boy, anymore.” Billy’s grin got even wider.

“Thank fuck.” He swung himself into the seat across from Steve’s, upsetting some of the papers they were working on.

“What happened to you, Billy?” Billy’s smiled slipped, just a little.

“My dad was tired a’ paying for that joint if I wasn’t getting better. So he said if I wasn’t fixed in like, a month, he would stop paying, and I would be kicked out. Stayed true to his word. Haven’t seen the bastard since.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Getting kicked outta that place is the best fuckin’ thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I graduated. Went through the whole thing. Took me a year to realize how fucked up it was.”

“Jesus. They got you deep.” Steve shrugged.

“I’m okay now.”

“Yeah? What’re you doin’?”

“Goin’ to school. Gonna be a counselor. Hopefully work in an elementary school, or something.” Billy’s eyes were bright.

“That’s amazing. Gonna tell all the little queer kids that they’re valid and all that?”

“That’s the goal.” Billy grinned. “What are you doing now? You with anyone?”

“I own a bar, actually. Kind of a dive, but it’s a good time.” He looked at Steve through his lashes. “You should come by, sometime. Be good to see you.”

“I’d like to see you too.”

“And to answer your question, I’m not with anyone. Not right now.” He smirked. “But I could be.” He leaned over the table, drawing one finger down Steve’s hand. “I like seeing you happy. Feel like I only ever saw you cryin’ in that joint.”

“Well, spent a lot of time crying there.”

“For good reason.” Billy took their hand. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Y’know I told Father Andrew I was in love with you. Got beat black and fuckin’ blue for it.” Billy’s face was grave.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Wanted to be fixed. Took me a year to realize I didn’t need that.”

“You stop lovin’ me in that year?”

“Not even in the two after that.” Billy took a shaking breath.

“You know, I uh, I love you too. Always did. It broke my fucking heart to leave you in that place. Was gonna wake you up that night, get you to run away with me. But they took me out, uh, forcibly.”

“Bet you put up a real good fight.”

“Broke Father Ryan’s nose.” Steve let out a burst of laughter, clapping one hand over their mouth.

“I was wondering about that. He had a splint for like, a month.”

“Yeah, well, bastard kept tryin’ to exorcise me. Headbutted him right in the face.”

“Good for you, Bill. Sometimes I wish I could light the whole place on fire.”

“Me too.” Billy took their hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I gotta head, but I wanna see you. Soon. Later today, if you can.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m just doing some homework, but I could stop by the bar tonight? I don’t have shit to do tomorrow.”

“Lemme pick you up. We can go to dinner before I take you to the bar.” They smiled softly at him.

“I’d like that.”

[silverstardust666]

Hey, y’all! There’s an account called @i-met-god-hes-catholic (Yes, I’m tagging them. They need to see this)

This account has been writing “Hello please become Roman Catholic” in peoples ask boxes and making posts that read “Hello please become Roman Catholic” and tagging them with various ships and irrelevant tags (lgbt and blm are two that stood out to me).

The purpose of this post was to let y’all know so you can block them if need be or at least be on the look out for them.

And to @i-met-god-hes-catholic please stop. Religion, especially Christianity (and especially Catholicism), can be a very triggering subject for some people. And asking people to convert is only going to make them not want to convert. And especially tagging your posts as lgbt is a terrible idea. Many of us have been discriminated against on the basis of religion. So, please, stop harassing people and accept the fact that not everybody believes in your god or any god for that matter.

Stay safe, kiddos!

[ubyr-babaj]

some twink: *writes what’s pretty much a gory child porn conversion therapy AU between Caligari and Cesare*

my POCD: see, your caligari-inspired passion project is just as bad, you’re just as much of a horrible person! even if you’d never include any rape scenes!! writing about csa as a survivor is exactly the same as some dumbass trying to be edgy!!!

[thebiggestnaturaldisaster]

Yall I know it’s illegal but anyone know where I can find a conversion therapist

For myself btw