#gay time travel

[dreamerandthedarkhalf]

NaNo project?

[deathflare]

the eorzean mind cannot comprehend the vastness of xak tural

[zivazivc]

this came to me in a dream

Floyd's emo ass and a techno troll could make scene kids...! Do you see my vision??? . . . Ravin is Happy Hardcore and Eddy M is Synth-Pop, that's how troll genetics work, right?

anyway...

i don't think floyd leads a proud life

[thresholdbb]

what's the threshold theory

There was a post about how Tom is the only crew member who isn't really affected by the Borg, and there's a theory that he has so much luck because he saw the past and the future when he crossed the transwarp threshold. He saw the past and the future, all of time and space. There's some subconscious part of him that remembers that experience. In fact, Tom refused to play a part in Chakotay indulging Annorax's temporal incursions, probably because a part of him knew nothing good could come of it.

If we extend that same theory to Janeway, some of her wild luck with time travel and other crack plans starts to make sense. She doesn't verbally hate time travel until after the events of Threshold, since it happens in Time and Again without complaint. Janeway has an uncanny knack for time travel, as evidenced every time she deals with it. She hates time travel, but it might be because part of her knows exactly how to manipulate the timeline. She manages to avoid the "inevitable" temporal explosion in Future's End, saving both Voyager and Braxton. She resets the entire timeline in Year of Hell, and no one else followed her reasoning. She pulled it off flawlessly. In Relativity, she senses the incidents are all related, despite it being just one reading that connects them. By the time she's involved, she has a temporal incursion factor of .0036 and a time travel protocol named after her, even if that may just be Braxton's personal grudge. Then there's Endgame, where she intentionally changes the timeline. Up until this point, she has been dragged into time travel, but for the first time, she jumps in on purpose. How does Admiral Janeway know how to get them home sooner in a way that completely avoids the Temporal Integrity Commission? It's because she has seen all of time, and part of her knows exactly what needs to happen so she can get Voyager home and do it in a way that becomes baked into the prime timeline. Maybe she doesn't consciously remember what happened during her transformation, but the experience lives in her mind somewhere, guiding her decisions.

[nethnad]

thinking about time lords and their fucked up little society again and i just realized how devastating the revelation of the drums in the end of time is in relation to the master's character.

because of all the renegade time lords in the universe, i think it's the master who most exemplifies the philosophical outlook that the time lords have towards the rest of the universe. they're stuffy observers, administrators, yes - but this position is one they've decided for themselves because of this concept of supremacy over other life forms. imposed and upheld this idea that other species that lack a time sense are less-than, primitive. and the master buys into this hard.

and i mean... compared to the doctor, the master is good at being a time lord. he buys into these supremacist concepts, this idea that every other species (and especially humans) is practically a meaningless ant in the grand scheme of the universe. takes it to the extreme, yes, but its the same underlying principle. he's a good student (despite whatever chibnall might think) - that one time lord from terror of the autons (identity forever a mystery) (its brax) even says "he did receive a higher degree of cosmic science than you." the master could play their game if he wanted to. he's remarkably comfortable with being on gallifrey/the idea of gallifrey(in eot/tlotl) than the doctor ever is. where the doctor avoids the subject of the lord presidency like the plague, the master is like "well if you kill the president you ARE the president! and then you have all of gallifrey!" and when the doctor destroys gallifrey (nominally), the master tries to rebuild it in the sound of drums/last of the time lords. tries to emulate their society. honor them in his little fucked up way. he brings them back from the time war!

and what does he get for it? how did the time lords treat him in response?

they decide to implant the sound of drums in his head, stretching back until he's a child. puts this insufferable noise, this splitting headache, in his head for his entire life. all so that they may live while he dies. because he is diseased, because of them. he has swallowed the pill, bought their propaganda, he has followed the rules, he tried to rebuild them he tried. and in response he is chewed up and spit out like trash so that rassilon's god complex can survive while the universe crumbles.

how crushing must that be to someone? to have your whole worldview - that you are better, you are chosen, you are special - come crumbling down in a few short moments? to see the revered founder-god of the civilization you have so desperately tried to revive look at you and say "you are diseased," even though he was the one to poison you in the first place?

and as his heart is torn to pieces... when rassilon says "no more," and charges his gauntlet, the master - who has spent countless lives fighting death with his bare hands - does not move.

part of me thinks he does not want to.

[transform4u]

My biological father was a drunk, gassy and musky construction worker who ran away not long after I was born. Do you think I could see what it's like being in his shoes, to better understand his actions?

You sit in your tiny apartment, the cozy space filled with the soft glow of your iPhone 15 Pro Max. Grey's Anatomy plays on Netflix, a rerun that offers comfort in its familiarity. You absentmindedly scroll through Instagram, double-tapping on posts of guys who catch your eye, a small indulgence in the midst of your evening routine.

Your thoughts drift towards your father, a complicated figure in your life. There's a part of you that longs to understand him better, to bridge the gap that seems to have grown between you. You contemplate picking up the phone to call him, wondering if tonight might be the night to break the silence.

Suddenly, the clock on your phone catches your eye. Its numbers begin to rewind, ticking backwards in a surreal reversal. Your sleek iPhone 15 Pro Max begins to morph before your eyes, shrinking and changing into an iPhone X, then an iPhone 6, then further still until it resembles an older, basic model from years past.

The transformation isn't limited to your phone. Your apartment around you starts to shift and change. The modern decor fades away, replaced by the more utilitarian furnishings of a dorm room. The air feels different, charged with a strange energy that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before you can make sense of what's happening, the door bursts open with a force that startles you. A tall, robust figure strides in confidently, exuding a familiar but younger vibe. "Sup, bro? Ready to hit the town?" he booms, his voice echoing in the small room.

Your head throbs painfully as you struggle to understand. He continues, a grin spreading across his face, "Need to get fucking wasted! I can't believe Obama got elected. McCain was my man!" He tosses you a beer from a nearby mini-fridge with a nonchalant gesture.

The mention of Obama and McCain strikes you as bizarrely out of place. Those were events from years ago, not recent history as he seems to think. The man sitting beside you now, burping loudly in your ear, looks uncannily like your father—but younger, much younger.

As his echo reverberates through your body, a chill runs down your spine. This surreal encounter defies logic and reason, pulling you deeper into a past that shouldn't be. You're left grappling with the unsettling feeling that you've stumbled into a moment beyond time, where understanding and reality blur into a disorienting haze.

The chill ran down your less-than-average body, a testament to years of neglect and occasional indulgence. You were weather-faced, with a hint of weariness etched into your features. Your clothes, a mismatch of old favorites, hugged uncomfortably close to the bulges and love handles that had crept up over time. Taking a sip of the beer offered by the coyly smiling guy next to you, you felt a strange sensation wash over you, as if your body was shifting, morphing in ways you couldn't comprehend.

Aches spread like a full-body hangover, making you lurch forward slightly. It was a sensation akin to a sudden surge of energy coursing through you, transforming the weight you carried into something stronger. You felt heavy with the potential of pumped-up muscles, ones honed through sporadic workouts and the occasional pick-up football game under the sun. Your chest swelled with an unexpected pride, pushing against the fabric of a worn-out tank top that seemed to fit better now than it had moments ago. Sinewy biceps and veins pulsed visibly under the dim party lights as you raised your drink in a toast, feeling every bit the reckless young college freshman.

Your face, typically unremarkable, now bore a flush from the night's indulgences. Your jawline, softened by the haze of alcohol, relaxed into a carefree grin that spread from ear to ear. Hazel eyes, dulled by the night's revelry, gleamed mischievously under tousled blond hair that caught the party's chaotic energy.

Dressed in classic college attire—khaki shorts that rode comfortably on your hips, showcasing the toned muscles of your thighs, and a faded tank top adorned with the emblem of your fraternity—you felt surprisingly at ease. Well-worn boat shoes adorned your feet, tapping eagerly to the beat of the music as if anticipating the next spontaneous dance move.

In your dorm room, the air was thick with the scent of cheap beer and the promise of a wild night ahead. The dude next to you, your roommate, was practically vibrating with excitement as he poured you a shot and shouted, "Let's rage, bro!" You couldn't help but get caught up in his enthusiasm, clinking your shot glass against his and downing the fiery liquid with a cheer.

"To being the best roommates and finding a rager tonight!" he declared, his voice filled with the exuberance of youthful optimism. The burn of whiskey warmed your throat as you joined in his toast, the alcohol quickly beginning to blur the edges of reality.

In an instant, you found yourself transported to a raging frat party. The room pulsed with the infectious beat of "Low" by Flo Rida, reverberating off the walls and mingling with the raucous laughter and shouts of rowdy frat bros. They were everywhere, clad in nothing but backwards baseball caps and gym shorts that showcased their chiseled physiques. Beer dribbled down their defined pecs and abs, catching the light in a tantalizing display that drew your gaze involuntarily.

You felt a strange mix of admiration and arousal, intensified by the haze of alcohol and the charged atmosphere of the party. Your buddy nudged you with a grin, pointing towards a girl across the room. "She's so hot, right?" he asked eagerly, oblivious to the pounding headache that was beginning to throb in your temples.

As "Low" continued to pump through the room, you let out an awkward burp, the taste of whiskey lingering on your tongue. The sound seemed to echo in the chaotic din around you, a stark contrast to the once-clear thoughts that now seemed distant and unreachable. Intelligence slipped away like sand through an hourglass, replaced by a growing sense of intoxication and confusion. "You ain't checking out Zeke and Brock are ya? You ain't no fucking faggot now is ya?" He punches your arm playfully but there's an edge of seriousness in his voice that makes it clear he wouldn't tolerate any homosexual behavior from his friends under any circumstances You look at him, of course you're a fucking fag---a homo---gay. But a pain and rage coarse through you "I ain't no fag! That's fucking gross bro. You know I need dat fine pussy over there" pointing to some slutty looking blonde girl.

Your desire to breed and dominate women burns bright within you, pushing away any thoughts of being a sissy or gay. You point to the blonde across the room whose curves have captured your attention entirely. A part of you knows what it means to be gay – a pain and rage course through you at just thinking about it – but all rational thought flees as lust takes over. All that matters now is claiming this woman for yourself; breeding her and proving once again who holds court here tonight. With every step she takes closer towards where both of you stand, primal instincts kick into high gear: blood rushes southward leaving nothing but pure adrenaline coursing through veins primed for action! It's time for dominance –

As the blonde chick approaches, your desire to breed and fuck chicks burns hotter than ever. The thought of being a fag recedes into the background, replaced by primal urges that demand satisfaction.

You sneer at the very idea of being a fag, letting out a low growl as rage builds within you. You couldn't wait to punch some sissy senseless and prove your dominance once more – but for now, this woman has captured all your attention. Her huge tits sway seductively in time with every step she takes towards where both of you stand; it feels like an animal in heat ready to be claimed by its mate!

You flex your muscles as best you can in your tight t-shirt and approach her confidently. "Hey there beautiful," you say smoothly, as slight Jersey accent forming, flashing a pearly white smile that might be charming if it wasn't so obvious that you were already well past drunk. She giggles at your flirtation before introducing herself as Ashley. With a playful wink, she invites you to join her on the dance floor where The Killers' "Mr Brightside" is playing loudly enough for everyone to sing along with gusto.

The night seems endless; filled with more alcohol than food and countless conversations about nothing important at all - just like every other frat party ever thrown by these guys who think they know how to have fun but really don't understand much beyond getting wasted and trying not think too hard about tomorrow morning when reality will inevitably come crashing back down on them again.

"I'm uhhh---ummm" it's not that your drunk, which you are, but you can't even rememebr your name "I'm uhhh---Tanner, hahaha but everyone calls me T-Dawg," you say, your voice thick with confidence your accent deepening. As if on cue, a deep unnatural tan washes over your skin while gel coats every strand of hair on your head. A gawdy gold necklace wraps itself around your neck as if it were always meant to be there. Looking like a Jersey Shore reject.

You take Ashley by the hand and lead her over to a ratty, beer-stained couch in the corner of the room. She hesitates for a moment before following you – perhaps she can sense what's about to happen next or maybe she just wants it as much as you do.

Once seated on the couch, you force her head down towards your crotch without hesitation or remorse. The smell of sweat, beer and musk fills the air; it's intoxicatingly familiar yet new at once – like being wrapped up in an old blanket after coming home from war. The scent makes you feel like an alpha male through and through – unstoppable force ready for anything life throws at him! She takes hold of your hardened shaft with one hand while using her tongue expertly against its sensitive underside; moans escape her breathlessly. With each stroke upwards towards your tip followed by retreat back down again (and sometimes sideways too), you grunt approvingly knowing that soon enough you will find yourselves lost within each other completely oblivious to everything else.

Ashley's eyes widen in surprise as she stares up at you while your cock throbs inside her mouth. With a primal roar, you let go of all control and release your load directly into her face, causing her to gag on the thick cum that spurts out of you like a geyser. She quickly pulls back with a look of shock mixed with arousal before standing up and brushing off her hands like nothing happened.

"Now be a good bitch and get me a beer," you slur drunkenly, using the only word in your vocabulary that seems appropriate for this situation. Ashley giggles vapidly before turning around and walking away without another word - clearly already planning on finding someone else to satisfy her needs since yours were so easily fulfilled just moments ago.

As the night wears on, you and your buddy continue to live up to your reputation as fearless bro-conquistadors. Between shots of tequila and chugging beers straight from the keg, you take turns seeing who can faaaaarrrrrrrrt the loudest without holding back. PFFFFFFFFFFFFT The smell is pungent enough that it makes most of the other bros at the party recoil in disgust but neither one of you seem to care - instead choosing to revel in your newfound gas-passing skills as if they were some sort of art form all their own.

Between fart battles and flirting with every half-dressed girl who crosses your path, memories start blurring together into a hazy montage: flashes of bodies grinding against each other on dance floors filled with strobe lights; faces contorted into drunken smiles underneath twinkling strings lights hanging from trees outside; laughter ringing out through crowded rooms packed full from wall-to-wall people desperate for fun before they have responsibilities tomorrow morning.

After a while, you black out. When you wake up, it's in your dorm room – but something is off. The smell of the loudest, most obnoxious fart assaults your senses as soon as you open your eyes. "Dude," says your roommate and best friend from across the room, "you fucking stink."

You feel yourself through last night's hangover; morning wood still firmly in place despite it being 9 AM. Your buddy tosses you a beer without any hesitation or judgment; he knows exactly what kind of college bro life is all about! And so do you – there's nothing quite like starting the day with a cold one before heading out to class or whatever else life throws at them on any given day… Even if that means letting loose an enormous burp right into his face after taking that first sip from his freshly opened can of beer… Because fuck yeah! College was awesome!

As you get ready for the day, you see yourself in the mirror – and what do you see? A dumbass, loud-mouthed obnoxious college freshman! A total Jersey Shore fratbro.

Your roommate high-fives you as if to say "Let's make 2008 are fucking bitch bro!" It turns out that not only are you living in the past now but with the dude that used to be your dad! Not that you'd remember. You let out a wicked, ranky faaaaaaaarrrrt that fills the room as you nostrils flare taking the smell in.

You both let out a huge laugh at this revelation before deciding it's time to score some hot chicks and get day drunk. Who needs class anyway? With that thought in mind, another gassy burrrrrrrrrp escapes from deep within your gut – a reminder of just how much fun being an unapologetically straight college bro can be… So why not embrace it wholeheartedly?

[deoidesign]

panels from my webcomic. the characters are also from my webcomic. believe it or not it's about gay time traveling vampires

[alphajocklover]

hey there. My name is Derek. Im your average, slightly overweight gay guy from Chicago. I work as a pretty decent graphic designer downtown. And honestly, my life has gotten boring. I’ve been with the same guy for far too long. And I sometimes wish I could be one of those loud, obnoxious straight dudes you see at bars. You know the ones I’m talking about. Total jerks who make rude and crude comments to women. Muscles so big. Obnoxious loud clothing. Yeah. Is it weird that I want to be the most hated straight douchebag in the world? Haha it’d be so different

Hey Derek! I’m glad you reached out. You’re asking a question a lot of gay men have asked throughout history: Is it weird that you want to be a straight, buff, misogynist douchebag? Are you a freak because a part of you wants to be the kind of guy you’ve always hated? You’ve always believed in being proud of your sexuality, in treating everyone, especially women, with respect, in common decency, equality, and respect. Usually you’d find those straight, cocky jerks as obnoxious as anyone else. But just like a lot of men (and sometimes women), both in and outside of the LGBTQ community, there are times where, even though you know you shouldn’t, you wish you were one of those guys. It’s hard to say why people get this strange desire. It could be that you’re jealous of their bodies, how they’re so muscular, beefy, and powerful. It could be that you admire their confidence, the way they cockily smirk like they rule the world. It could be that you long to be like them because, despite their flaws, they’re the manly men that society has always told men we should all be.

Or it could be that you know, deep down, that they’re what you were meant to be. That they’re what you could have been, should have been, and would have been… if you hadn’t been turned gay.

Before we continue I wanna make a few things clear. Being gay isn’t a choice, you can’t cure gayness with dumbass abusive therapy, gay people do not turn other people gay, and homosexuality is a perfectly natural thing that some people just are. But… not all people. There are some people in this world, like you Derek, who have been turned gay. You were supposed to be straight. In fact you were supposed to be a straight, beefy, misogynistic, douchebag. But someone changed you, derailed your fate so that you’d be different. They saw you, didn’t approve, and so they went back in time and changed you. It’s not just you either. There are thousands of supposedly gay men who are really straight douchebags who got turned.

The group of people responsible for these changes are mysterious and covered in shadow. Those who know of them call them the SAD, the Society Against Douchebags. Not much is known about them, just that they come from the far future and use a strange machine to go back in time and change the lives of certain straight douchebags through manipulation and futuristic technology. The reason you were always so unathletic and heavy? You had nano machines working against you, keeping on the weight and taking down your endurance. The reason you could never seem to say the right thing and always embarrassed yourself around cool guys? They’d use those same machines to make you feel awkward and uncomfortable so you’d say the wrong thing. The reason you’re gay? They altered your brain chemistry.

But I know someone who can help you turn back.

A group like the SAD, one that so recklessly changes the timeline, doesn’t go unnoticed forever. Eventually another group formed, one that fought back against them. They call themselves the Douchebag Revolution. They’re exactly what they sound like. Straight, buff douchebags who either didn’t get targeted for one reason or another or were saved from their false lives and wanna take down the people who tried to destroy them. They go around, liberating guys like your from their fake fag lives, fighting the SAD and living that douchebag lifestyle.

Personally I try to keep out of their whole time war thing. I don't think what the SAD does is good, but time travel is so fucking complicated I’d like to avoid anyone who uses it all together. Plus the Douchebag Revolution is pretty homophobic, so they wouldn’t accept an actual gay guy like me in their ranks. But I do have a few contacts in the Douchebag Revolution who tolerate me. I could get you in touch. They have a way to reverse what the SAD did to you. A serum. It’ll make you exactly what you always should have been: a straight, beefy, asshole. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to take it. You can stay this way, always wondering who you would have been. But I don’t think that’s what you want. I can see it in your eyes. You know what you are.

You’re a douchebag. Welcome to the Revolution.

Don’t worry about your boyfriend. Either he’s an agent of the SAD or he’s a fellow turned Douchebag. Either way your new friends will help you take care of it.

**another G2S story. I know they’re controversial but they’re so much fun. Definitely going to revisit the douchebag Revolution idea sometime.**

[rosekillerbf]

regulus “secretly a swiftie” black x james “loudly and obsessively a swiftie” potter

[outromoony]

Time Travel

@wolfstarmicrofic | Word count: 185

"If one day we get to time travel, I think I would come back to this exact moment." Sirius spoke softly against Remus's skin, burying his face deeper into his neck. "I—"

In that moment, he felt Remus tense against him. Sirius looked up to see something on his face he had never seen before—shock, mostly. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open. But behind all of that, he could see the desire to cry almost blooming on the surface of all those expressions.

The moment Sirius turned his face to see what Remus was looking at, he froze in place. A pair of eyes were looking at them from behind a nearby tree. Gray and tired eyes, but Sirius recognized instantly that they used to be blue, a bright and vivid shade of blue.

The silhouette realized he was caught and disappeared instantly in the blink of an eye, but before it did, Sirius caught a glimpse of dark black hair peeking out from between the branches. Seconds later, a distant sound filled the silence that lingered between them.

It was the bark of a dog.

[yourebeingsilly]

I absolutely adore this particular timeline I get to live in ‘cause it basically keeps saying “take your favourite childhood hyperfixation and turn it into a canonically very gay tv show”

[inthebeginning-rebellion]

fuckery+jeff's inn by the sea+blackbeards bar and grill+stede's natural hostess talent+roach's genuine adoration of cuisine+the crew's artistic talents+the revenge being home=

The Revenge! Roaming Dinner Theatre on the High Seas! Captained by dashing Gentlemen Pirates and Dedicated to a Thrilling Theatrical Culinary Experience! Makes stops in Jamaica, Florida, Barbados, and the Republic of Pirates, no shirt, no shoes, no service.

[welcome-leon]

it’s hard being the last one to find out (that ur bi)

[do not repost]

[blood-carnation]

the people who think wonderland is always super accepting of gay people are WRONG sorry. queen of hearts had a SEVERE gay situationship breakup when she was sixteen and you NEVER recover from those. she resents her heartbreak and outlawed homosexuality in wonderland bc she is a tyrant.

this, however, did NOT make red homophobic because she hated her mother and everything she stood for. so she decided she was queer out of spite (she did actually turn out to like women, but it was spite first) and LOVES gay people

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was a gay time traveler who traveled back to Victorian England and met this world traveler. I told him about the future and he took me on his travels around the world while writing love poetry for his fiancé back home. Sometimes he’d read me the poetry while we held hands. I’d collect little souvenirs to take back to future with me. We’d look into each other’s eyes a lot. 

[tantalizingdaydream]

tbh albus potter would be so mad to find out he has a whole play about him and its named AFTER HIS FATHER his whole life has been about getting out of his father’s shadow and yet this whole arc for him is still blaring his father’s name he would be so sad.