This and this and this.

I don’t really think that God even has the time to care about if people are gay like if he’s got a whole world to run there are more important things anyway

And if God is love, he’s not just loving me if I am what he wants; he’s loving me as the person he made me to be, which is a queer person

You can’t say “I love you, and I made you gay but I’m sending you to hell you awful sinner” my dude that doesn’t make sense it’s not like hell has a low population is it

Hell, in Kenneth Davis’s Don’t Know Much About The Bible, there’s a passage that absolutely blows my mind and proves just how much we can misinterpret with simple translation mistakes: 

“In researching the world’s oldest city, for instance, I learned that Joshua’s Jericho is one of the oldest human settlements. It also lies on a major earthquake zone. Could that simple fact of geology have had anything to do with those famous walls tumbling down? Then I discovered that Moses and the tribes of Israel never crossed the Red Sea but escaped from Pharaoh and his chariots across the Sea of Reeds, an uncertain designation which might be one of several Egyptian lakes or a marshy section of the Nile Delta. This mistranslation crept into the Greek Septuagint version and was uncovered by modern scholars with access to old Hebrew manuscripts.”

The bible is one long-ass game of telephone, whispered around the world in dozens if not hundreds of languages, for thousands of years. I have a hard time knowing what my grandpa is talking about, when he starts going on about the technology or practices of his youth, and that was only about 80 years ago, in the same country and in the same language as me. So why every Joe on the streets thinks they can take one or two verses, completely out of context and probably mis-translated several times to boot, and use it to spout propaganda and hatred for an entire group of people will forever be beyond me. 

You guys know that verse in Leviticus that homophobes like to trot out? Well, I’m here to tell you:

They don’t read Hebrew and they don’t know shit.

And now here’s something you probably won’t hear from any of those Fine Christian Folks ™ anytime soon, either:

We do read Hebrew and we still don’t know shit.

Here’s the thing. The most “accurate” word-for-word translation of that verse would say “a man shall not lie with another man; it is forbidden.”

Here’s the issue.

The grammar surrounding “men” in that sentence isn’t correct, and the word I’ve translated as “forbidden” is “toevah,” a word so fucking old we literally don’t know what it meant anymore.

The strange sentence construction suggests that “lie with another man” uses a feminine construction you wouldn’t normally find in a sentence that’s entirely about men, and while “toevah” means “forbidden,” it’s not actually clear what is forbidden. Here’s an incomplete list of possibilities:

Pederasty (adult male/adolescent male sex) is full-stop forbidden, a man sleeping with a male prostitute is full-stop forbidden, a man sleeping with a man as part of any kind of sex magic or fertility ritual is forbidden.

And my rabbi’s personal interpretation, based on the sentence construction: a man shouldn’t sleep with another man in a woman’s bed. (So basically: don’t cheat on your wife with a dude, which is probably treated separately from “don’t commit adultery” because adultery would come with the risk of an illegitimate child.)

You’ll notice none of these involve “ew, you disgusting gays.”

Unless you accept a word-for-word literal translation with zero consideration for the social mores and other tribes surrounding Israel contemporary with the writing of Torah, nothing about this commandment has anything to do with our modern understanding of queer people having committed relationships. Once you start taking the rituals and practices of Israel’s contemporaries into account, it suddenly becomes clear why these prohibitions would have been put into place (sex magic was common in the cult of Ba’al, for example, while pederasty was practically a requirement in Greece).

If you’re just a person out there loving other people of the same gender as you? The Torah says nothing against you. But do you know what our literary tradition does say?

It puts you in the company of Naomi and Ruth.

Ruth is considered the first convert, and her vow to her mother-in-law Naomi (after Ruth’s husband’s death) forms the basis of our modern marriage vows. “Where you go, I shall go, and where you lodge, I shall lodge; your people shall be my people, and your G-d my G-d; and where you die I shall die, and there shall I be buried.” Ruth remarries as prescribed by law at the time, but even when a child is born of that new union, nobody calls it “Ruth’s and Boaz’s child”–they all say a child has been born to Ruth and Naomi.

I’m functioning on little sleep but I wanted to write something for the 1 year anniversary, so I kind of rushed this. 8th year AU where everything in the book is the same, but Simon and Baz were already together in 7th year. I basically just got really distracted and spent half the time reading the book when I was supposed to be looking things up, funny how that always happens.

Simon’s POV.

I don’t let myself think about Watford over the summer.

I have a list that I made, years ago, of things that I tuck away in the back of my mind and don’t let myself miss. The first summer I learned the hard way that thinking about magic and Watford would do nothing but drive me crazy with missing it. So I made myself stop thinking about the good things, like Penny and Agatha and the Wavering Wood and sour cherry scones, so I could get through the summer.

Baz was never on my list.

It’s probably a good thing, because if he’d been on my list I would have broken every rule I set for myself a thousand times over. Keeping Baz out of my head this summer would have been like standing in the middle of a fire and trying to ignore the flames. Actually, keeping Baz out of my head this summer would have been about equally as impossible as it has been all the previous summers.

By the time the summer is over, I’ve driven myself to the brink of insanity. I can’t stop playing back that day in the Wood, when I kissed him on impulse and all of his walls came crashing down. I can’t stop thinking about our room, being blanketed in the smell of him, sitting on one of our beds with our backs to the wall, shoulders leaning into each other. I can’t stop thinking about how cool his skin is, and beautiful, like marble, and his voice, murmuring for me to come closer.

By the time the summer is over, I’ve almost convinced myself that it was all just a dream. Even before this summer, most of my thoughts would be filled up with images of him, albeit quite different ones, so what’s to say that this year is any different? How do I know that when I come back to Watford, he’ll still want me? I have no proof that he ever wanted me at all, except for this ache in my chest that tells me I don’t hate him anymore.

When the Mage sends word to summon me back to school, I feel the usual relief that the World of Mages hasn’t disappeared on me, but it’s not enough. I’m still nervous. (I really, really want last year to have been real.)

I almost fall over three times on the stairs up to Mummers House in my eagerness (I’m terrified). I take a deep breath and shove open the door.

He’s not here yet. I relax, just slightly, and walk over to sit on my bed. I inhale deeply, but I don’t smell any trace of him (Crowley, I miss him).

I pace back and forth from my bed to the window, peering out at the grounds every few minutes. It’s been like this at the beginning of every year, me desperately searching for him, always wanting him in my sight, but it used to be because I didn’t trust him. I still don’t know if I can trust him – it’s too soon, and I still don’t know what this is – but I know that I would trust him with my life, if it came down to it. The second I felt his lips on mine, that first time, I knew I was gone. In too deep, and this would either be love, or it would be the death of me.

It gets late, and Baz still doesn’t show up. I lie down on his bed, careful not to disturb anything. Is he usually this late? What if he comes in and sees me on his bed and curses at me? What if it was all too good to be true?

Night falls, and I’m still alone. I spend the whole night curled up halfway down my bed, so I can turn my head to watch the door. It doesn’t open, and I don’t close my eyes the whole night.

*

The Veil thins, the Visitings start, and so do classes, and Baz still hasn’t returned.

He wouldn’t miss class, surely.

Maybe he’s sick?

What if he’s hurt?

What if he’s dead?

I shudder. No. The school would have been informed if that was the case.

Then what if his family has pulled him out of school to prepare for war, like some of the other Old Families have done? What if he’s not here because he’s plotting against me?

He said he never wanted to see me hurt. He held me and brushed his fingers through my hair, looking down into my eyes sleepily, and said he would cross every line for me. Was it all just wishful thinking, to believe that he meant it?

*

After a week, the teachers stop calling Baz’s name when they take attendance. Someone else replaces him on the football team. I question Dev and Niall, but they don’t tell me anything. I can’t even tell whether they’re being less hostile than usual. I never asked Baz if they knew about us, and they don’t seem to think I’m on their side.

The only proof I have that anything ever happened between us is Penny.

‘Penny, tell me I didn’t invent the whole thing.’

‘You didn’t. He loves you, Si, I saw it. The only thing I’m worried about is that I think he’d come back to you if he could.’

Which means he might be hurt.

I also have Agatha to prove it wasn’t just my imagination. She snaps her fingers in front of my face and I realise I’ve zoned out again, staring vacantly around the hall, as if he’s suddenly going to walk out of the crowd.

‘Crowley, I was never this bad, surely?’ she says to Penny.

‘Never,’ Pen agrees.

*

I spot the Mage walking past the classroom, and follow him in the direction of the Weeping Tower. When I climb up to his office, it’s empty.

I’ll just leave a note.

Sir, I’d like to talk to you when you have a moment. About everything. About my boyfriend.

I’m about to leave when I realise what I said. Hurriedly, I crumple up the note and glance around the office, as if anyone could have seen what I wrote. I find another sheet of paper, and write it out again, with roommate instead of boyfriend.

Baz never said we were boyfriends, and I was too scared to ask. We were too fragile. And now he’s gone, and I don’t know if he’s coming back.

*

I search the catacombs, and the woods. I run into a nymph.

‘I’m looking for my roommate.’

‘Your enemy,’ she counters.

I swallow. ‘N-no. He’s not my enemy.’

She doesn’t know where he is.

Neither does Miss Possibelf. She says she talked to Baz’s father, and he seemed unsettled.

I alternate between worry and anger.

I’m angry at him, because I think he might have betrayed me. I think he might have tricked me and lied to me and made me fall for him only to run off and plot against me. And even if he didn’t, even if he still doesn’t want to hurt me, I’m angry at him for leaving me. I’m angry that he hasn’t tried harder to see me, or to let me know that he’s okay.

But mostly I worry. I spent the last seven years hating him and trying to either foil his plans or get as far away from him as I could, and then things changed and I didn’t want to waste a second of it. I thought we finally had something good. And suddenly I can’t bear the thought of never seeing him again. I need those eyes staring into mine, and I need his fingers tracing patterns on my skin, and I need that soft smile when he thinks I’m not watching him and I can see that he’s content, and safe in my arms. I just want him to come back to me.

I never would have left you. I realise it when I’m finally half asleep. I would have stayed with him.

And then,

Simon, Simon… my rosebud boy, a voice whispers.

It’s not him. It’s just a dream.

*

I dream that I meet his mother. A Visiting. Maybe not a dream, then, I’m too tired to tell. She kisses my temple and tells me it’s for Baz.

‘I’ll tell him,’ I say.

*

Heads barely turn when the doors to the dining hall fly open at breakfast. Everyone’s used to the Visitings, and to be frank, I’m sick of them. I just want…

‘Simon,’ Penny hisses, and my head snaps up.

Baz.

I know immediately that it’s him, just by the shape of him. He’s just a dark silhouette with the sunlight pouring in behind him, but it’s him.

I stand up so quickly that my chair goes clattering to the floor behind me. The entire hall is filled to the rooftops with the sound of students chattering, but it’s as if I’ve broken a tense silence, because his gaze immediately snaps over to me.

He looks awful. He looks pale and grey, more so than usual, and his face is gaunt, and he looks so skinny.

But he’s alive. And he’s here. And he’s looking at me.

I’m too shocked to know what to do, so I just stand there, staring. He holds my gaze the whole time as he walks into the room, but he moves past me and sits at his usual table with Dev and Niall. They barely react, giving him a bored nod and moving a teapot off his seat.

Baz…

I want to march over there and shake him. I want to know where he’s been. I want to brush my hands over his body and check that nothing’s broken. I want to throw my arms around him and breathe in the smell of him and never let him go.

I don’t know if he would let me do any of that, so I force myself to sit down.

*

As soon as I see him stand up, I follow him to our room. I watch him intently, trying to figure him out. He’s walking with his back straight and his head high, chin jutting out arrogantly, as usual, like he owns the place. Untouchable. But he always looked like that, even when we were together. I had almost gotten used to it – to realising that I’m allowed to touch him and he wouldn’t push me away, even if he still looked like the boy who would happily sacrifice me to a chimera.

Now, I don’t know.

He leaves the door to the room open after he walks in. He knows I’m here, then. Of course. He stops in the middle of the room and slowly turns to face me. I nudge the door shut behind me and lean against it, suddenly unable to keep myself upright on my own.

His eyes are the same. Piercing straight into my soul. They have the power to turn me to ashes.

He breaks the silence first.

‘Snow.’

Not Simon. That’s okay. That’s still normal.

‘You’re back,’ I respond, and it’s barely more than a hoarse whisper.

‘Yes. Happy to see me?’ I see the muscle in his jaw twitch, and I recognise the look in his eyes. He’s protecting himself, like that time I said I wanted to talk and he completely withdrew from me, turning cold and aloof again. (I had just wanted to confess that I’d stolen and accidentally ruined his shirt while practicing spells.)

‘Yes.’ I nod, and bite my lip. ‘Yes. Are you okay? What happened? Where were you?’ I take a cautious step towards him.

He mutters something unintelligible, finally breaking eye contact.

‘What?’ Another step.

‘Kidnapped. By fucking numpties.’

I bark out a surprised laugh. I take another step, and reach out to touch his shoulder. He stiffens.

‘How…?’ My fingers trail down to his chest. He still doesn’t move, and his head is hanging low, his eyes fixed on some unseen point on the floor.

‘They kept me in a coffin,’ he mutters.

I can feel his heartbeat.

I reach for him with my other hand. I brush my hands over his arms, his elbows. My hands ghost over his waist, his stomach, and back up to his shoulders.

He’s here. He’s really here.

‘This whole time…?’

I cup his face in my hands, and brush his hair behind his ears. He sighs.

‘Mostly.’

‘Did they feed you?’

‘They gave me blood.’

I frown, and my hands go still. ‘Are you okay? How did you survive?’

‘You… I had to come back…’

He seems to fall forwards, and his mouth lands perfectly on mine and there, finally. My arms reach around his neck and he hugs me around the waist and I don’t know how long we stand there, kissing at first, and then just holding each other.

*

It wasn’t all a dream.

And… there was something else… another dream…

‘Baz,’ I murmur, pulling my head back to look at him. His eyes are half-closed.

‘Hm?’

I reach up on my tiptoes and plant a kiss on his temple, as softly as I can.

I was war: Aries, Gemini, Virgo, Scorpio, Capricorn, Aquarius She was peace: Taurus, Cancer, Leo, Libra, Sagittarius, Pisces

I was disaster: Aries, Gemini, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius She was beauty: Taurus, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Pisces

I was sorrow: Taurus, Cancer, Virgo, Scorpio, Capricorn, Aquarius She was happiness: Aries, Gemini, Leo, Libra, Sagittarius, Pisces

I was death: Aries, Virgo, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius She was life: Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Libra, Pisces

me:

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller