#my son is indeed gay

[justmwahstruly]

wlep

you know what time it is

whiteboard doodles time

these is from mine (with some really cool peoplies)

and from @thegenderconfusedpuffball’s whiteboard

so uh new oc yay ty to the peoples on both whiteboards they very cool people

[spookycreepycookie]

Sorry Alex but the Prince gets what the Prince wants. 👀🔥❤️🤍💙

“You’re gonna come to my room on the second floor of the residence where I’m going to do some very bad things to you.”

[piratefishmama]

Eddie Munson making bank on being a 'Rent a weirdo to piss off your parents' guy. He shows up, behaves exactly like himself sometimes, and other times if himself isnt working he'll up the ante and get creative, but he earns his money.

and Steve Harrington who's sick of his parents trying to throw people at him, both women and men, he's in desperate need of a break from it all/

His parents were horrifically supportive when he in a fit of desperation to stop them from throwing more awful women at him, came out as bi, okay, he said he was gay but when they were supportive he adjusted to Bisexual because he actually was bisexual and there was no point lying if his parents were just going to switch it up and throw men at him instead.

John the tennis club owners son was lovely but no.

So he hires Eddie for a 'week long chalet get away', it's Dustin's idea. Eddie's his friend and Dustin vouches for him.

"Just. Pretend to be my boyfriend for the week. You get a free rich people vacation out of it."

"Usually i'm more of a one and done kinda guy, Harrington, you think i'm not up to freakin them out in one go?"

"Freaking them-- no, i need a week of them not trying to set me up with someone, they wont if they think i'm dating, is that okay?"

"... Not my usual schtik but what's the worst that could happen?"

Whats the worst indeed.

[gassydumbjocks]

Virilite 1:

Boys will be boys

Ever since I spiked my nephew Liam's beer with a strange pill I found online when he and my brother came to watch a football match, that boy has been acting like a man, as he should.

You see, my brother Noah had a son who, don't get me wrong, I love this boy with all my soul, but god damn he had to grow up and start acting like what he was, a dude, always wearing those girly crop tops and tight-fitting jeans with bright colors because "that's who he was", I admit that I was clearly upset when he revealed to the family that he was gay, but even so I couldn't do anything and neither could Noah, so we decided to accept him as he was, until I found a way to... make him act as he should.

While looking at online articles I found this article online that was supposed to be some pills that could have an effect on the behavior and actions of the person that took them, yes, I know, very science fiction-like, still, what caught my attention was the name and objective of the pill, "Virilite" was its name, and it promised to also have an effect on the levels of testosterone produced in men, which ended up convincing me to buy it.

The instructions were simple, put them in the drink or food that said man was going to consume, once ingested the guy would enter an immediate state of trance, able to only follow the orders that another person suggested in his mind, there were even images of test subjects boys who I assume took the pill, they all had a relaxed yet funny expression, eyes crossed and some even with tongues sticking out like dogs, I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Liam looking like that.

Just as i was now, immediatly after i got Liam to drink it after offering him a beer, he letted out an involuntary loud and guttural deep belch, which from what i knew and readed online was a sign that the pill already took effect, i had Liam in front of me with a dumb smile and an eye-crossed, glazed over look, like that huge burp just took away all his thoughts and personality.

After the first 5 minutes of calling his name and getting no response, i actually started to worry, he couldn't stay as a brainless zombie-like dumbass all his life, and Noah would find out and kill me for it, i tried to remember, i took the pill's container and readed again the instructions.

"Ohh, so i have to, uh, kinda program him?" i said and then i thought of things i could make him do, i certainly bought those pills to make the kid more like a man... So, hell, what a man i would mold out of him.

I heard him let out a dumb chuckle still with that goofy smile from before, i smirked and approached "Liam, buddy, you hear me champ, you hear uncle Dave?" i asked to make sure he could indeed hear me, he slowly nodded and let out some hiccups "great, cuz we got a lot of work to do on you, and im sure you'll love it" i say.

I think of the first command to give him, they suggest to use short and simple commands, there are plenty of manly things he needs to learn, but i think i can cover up basic stuff, i remember Noah and me asking him to join us in our protein farting contests when we relaxed in our man cave watching our team, while Liam just grimaced and waved his hand, saying it was immature and gross, i would make him change his opinion, so it was obvious what would be the command "Liam...fart, loudly and proudly, c'mon" i literally order him to fart, i just wanted to test the effectiveness of the command obeying.

Without hesitation, he lifts his right leg as high as he can, leaving his butt in the air, before a barrage of gas goes out his butt.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Its so strong, big and beefy, even for me, i have to wave the smell and open a window nearby "good lord boy! Where in the hell did you got all that gas from!?" i ask impressed, and try to recover before continuing "ok ok lets keep up!, umm, belch, a nice deep man belch" i say, waiting for it.

I didn't even have to wait when he was already patting his chest and squinting an eye to help the gas release.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPP!!!

And holy fuck, if Liam was concious, he'd know that beast burp would have easily beat his old man and me in our oftens belch offs, the pill was clearly making a miracle on him.

I was admitidly having fun on my nephew making all the stuff he found "gross" and "immature" under a pill's control, i gave him another command, just to get a good laugh "Liam, do some armpit farts, but in the last one, you'll ask me to pull your finger, you'll let out a monster fart, got it?" i asked and he nodded again, he then started with the manly symphony, he took a hand down one of his pits and started to produce the nasty sounds.

PPPPPRRRRTTT

PPPPPPRRRRRRTTT

PPPPPPRRRRRTT

PPPPPPPRRRRRTT

I saw him stop and put hand on his gut, then he talked goofily "uncle, pull my finger" he asked dumbly before laughing and extend his hand at me, i gladly accepted "oh of course kiddo, let me help you with that" i smirked and pulled it hard, unleashing the beast gas he had stuck in his rump.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!

An ABSOLUTELY disgusting deep-ass and loud, nasty fart erupted from him, Liam never losing the crossed look on his face, as he hiked exaggerately his leg to force the fart out, i was shocked, but in the end, finally proud of him, i couldn't wait for Noah to see what he could do! We would think on more funny stuff to do at our just guys nights! After all, boys will be boys, right?

[star-suh]

Blackmail

Kim Mingyu x Male Reader

cw: top mingyu, rough sex, blackmailing, mingyu is a father as if he has a kid and a wife and an asshole too, toxic masculinity(?) is just a comment mingyu says),cheating, y/n is a closeted gay, car sex, feminization, unprotected sex, tummy bulge.

an: so i finally could finish this but my perfectionism is telling that could've been better lol.

—

y/n is a teacher at the local high school and one of his students is a pain in the ass, not paying attention, throwing paper balls, bothering his classmates. one day fed up with this, y/n scolds him "hey you brat, what are you doing?. you think just because your parents have money you can do whatever you want?", "hell yeah" the bastard replied cockily. y/n just laughed and rolled his eyes "you're a typical daddy and mommy's boy hiding insecurities behind all that money… so i ask you to leave the classroom and go to the principal. oh and you can't come back to class until your parents come do you hear me?" yelling that last one part. the boy told that to his parents overexaggerating things so they can 'punish' the teacher. mingyu, the dad, decided to investigate about him and use that information as a way to blackmail him, he found out that y/n frequents a gay bar and after that he always leaves with a man to a motel.

"hello mr. kim" welcomed the teacher "i told you to come here to talk about your son's behavior. he's very disrespectful towards me and his classmates and that's not ok" mingyu was just listening to everything with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed "that's all?" he laughs "here mr. y/n" mingyu handles an envelope to y/n he opens it and it's full of pics of him with men and there's even a flash drive "your blowing skills are good mr. y/n how much do you think this would cost?" he asks tapping the object.

"please don't spread these pics anywhere.. i beg" said the teacher scared "i won't say something to your son ever again.. or… or if you want i can leave the school ye-yeah that's it i'm quitting the job here just… just destroy this pics please" y/n grabbed the man by the hands "why you're so worried about this? you could be a good star in the porn world". "no one knows about it" y/n lowered his head "please… no one needs to know this…" his hands were shaking trying to convince mingyu. "so you'll do everything i want right?" mingyu tapped his chin with his fingers "listen i will talk to my son and tell him to behave a little more but in exchange you have to met me tomorrow night, give me your number i'll send you the address later" mingyu winks and leaves…

y/n was now sitting besides mingyu in his car, "so what do you want me to do?" asked a sad y/n, mingyu passed his phone to y/n in where his video was playing "watching that video got me so fucking hard" he palmed the growing bulge on his pants he then unzipped it and pull his cock out "i want to feel that pretty mouth of yours around my cock too. suck it" he whispered guiding y/n towards his cock, "fuck so wet and warm" grunted mingyu, y/n started to feel dizzy smelling mingyu's musky cock. "such a perfect cock" muttered y/n worshiping every vein, the thick shaft, the size of it, "look at you, I thought you would put on a fight but you already gave in to me. pathetic bitch" laughed the rich man who started to mouthfuck y/n at a harsh pace.

some minutes have passed and mingyu's cock was dripping with y/n's thick saliva, mingyu stopped y/n from sucking his balls "c'mon let's go to the back seats" there mingyu discarded his pants and leaned on his back "let me taste that used pussy" y/n obeyed an accommodate himself in a 69 position so he can keep sucking mingyu while he eat his ass out. mingyu started with doing circles with his fingers on y/n's rim, then spat on it and introduced the first finger "mmh is indeed warm" then he introduces a second finger.. the third and lasty a fourth one all of them knuckles deep going in and out "i'm started to get why everyone on that bar wants this pussy is so fucking tight. more than my wife's" mentioned mingyu, "hngh" moaned y/n with his mouth full of cock. grabbing him by the waist mingyu lifted y/n and started to eat his ass enjoying how it clenchez every time he introduces his tongue "such a tasty manpussy"...

mingyu groped y/n's chest and started playing with his nipples, tweaking and pinching them to get those pretty moans out of y/n's mouth then used his mouth to lick and bite them 'he's moaning a lot… i guess this is a sensitive part for him… kinda like it' thought mingyu.

now tapping his cock's head on y/n's clenching hole mingyu was getting ready to pound him "please wait… use a condom i've never done it without one" pleaded y/n, "fuck off you're not the one in charge here i'm gonna breed your manpussy you like it or not" mingyu grunted putting the cock's tip already inside "that also means that i'm gonna mark this pussy as mine" an in one thrust he put it all at once forming a bulge on y/n's lower tummy "woah look at that" he laughed "you're took it balls deep not like my wife she can barely take half of it" he whispered that last part licking a stripe from y/n's nipple to his ear. both stayed like that for a moment until mingyu started to move every thrust being harsher than the last one "please be more gentle" squirmed y/n pressing his hand against mingyu's stomach trying to stop him but he quit it "don't be boring dude, you're a man just endure it and let me enjoy your pussy" he then pulls out and spat on his shaft and sucked y/n's hole introducing his cock right after repeating the action during some minutes.

"tell me how it feels" demanded mingyu putting his hand around y/n's neck, applying some pressure and moving his hips quite gently to make y/n feel good "it's sooo big… it feels so good how it stretches me… i like.. i like how it is throbbing inside me… can't wait to feel your cum" that's when mingyu realized y/n was already his. "so you want my cum inside you that bad huh?. what a whore. then be my side pussy and i'm gonna pump you up every day with my warm sperm" a dizzy y/n just kissed mingyu as a way to said yes, he was desperate, mingyu is making him feel things no one ever has. y/n knew what he was doing was wrong but the pleasure was immense… he just wanted more and more.

mingyu was now fucking y/n in a quite uncomfortable doggy style position pressing the bottom's head against the window with his hand, traces of saliva and sweat being smeared in the glass everytime mingyu thrusted harshly. with a loud grunt and a last hard thrust mingyu came inside y/n “don't you dare to waste any drop you whore. keep it all inside your pussy” the top rode his high with a couple of last thrusts.

he pulls out and start using his fingers to scoop the cum and put it back inside the gaping hole, savouring the delicious wet sounds “you have a taste pussy professor. glad it's all mine now… right?” mingyu licked his ear waiting for his response, “yeah” it's the only thing that comes out of y/n's mouth, his tired self just enjoying mingyu's breath ghosting over his neck. “good boy” mi gyu added kissing his forehead and then driving towards a hotel.

the next day y/n woke up in a hotel room, his lower back in so much pain with a note on his side that reads a number that y/n calls “hello?”, “good morning slut” mingyu's sexy voice answers “i have some news for you… i won't spread these pictures of you but in exchange i want to keep fucking your pussy, my wife's it's not as thight as yours and also i can breed you as much as i want. so… deal?” y/n hesitates but eventually responds “...deal” hanging up the call while gathering his things to go home. on the other side of the call mingyu just laughs and lick his lips while driving towards his job.

[dansformations]

"Man of the future"

Alan was 20 years old gay guy that turned his passion for video games into a career as a streamer. Every night, he sat in front of his computer, illuminated by the lights of his setup, and connected to play with his thousands of followers enchanted by the fact of having a popular gay and handsome streamer. That night, however, something different happened.

While chatting with his audience and viewing the comments in the chat, he noticed a message that stood out among the others.

@ yourbroski: "Try this game, 'Man of the Future'," said a donation message with a link.

@ yourbroski: "Its my game, i create It"

- You Did!? No way - Alan replied

He clicked the link, opening the Game just for being nice, the title didnt sounded like something that the girly Alan would enjoy.

Within seconds after the click, Alan found himself downloading a game he had never heard of. The title, "Man of the Future," glowed on the screen.

The game was a complicated obstacle course and shooter that quickly engrossed Alan into the digital word.

- Hey, this is indeed fun

But the fun ended quickly. When he died in the game for the first time - Which was pretty fast -, a screen appeared with the saying, "C'mon Bro, you can do better" along with an strange music, almost hipnotazing music.

- Whoa, did you guys see that? - Alan said, leaning back in his chair. - This game is savage! 'C'mon Bro, you can do better'? Challenge accepted! - he answered.

However, the second attempt didn’t go any better. When Alan died again, the message changed to, "Don’t be a noob, Bro."

Alan face reddened with frustration. "Okay, Bro," he muttered under his breath.

- No way am I letting this game call me a noob. Let's do this! - He turned to the chat, determination blazing in his eyes. -You guys with me? This game’s going down, Bros!

Took a sip of His... beer? He didnt remenber being drinking beer, he didnt even remenber enjoying beer but he was so centred on beating that game that kinda ignored It.

- OOOOOUUURRRP - he belched - dang, sorry bros - he said a bit ashamed... Just a bit. He was too centred to being ashamed.

Meanwhile the coments were going crazy.

"Whats happening With all those 'Bro'? Thats off character"

"@ yourbroski: Nothing to be ashamed! Better out than inside my Bro!"

"Are we sure this Is Alan? Lol"

He keep playing moving his fingers as fast as he could, he was doing Better and when he almost reached the wining flag - a flag decorated only With White and black lines - he got killed by another player.

- Son of a bitch! - he yelled - that motherfucker killed me at the very last BRARRRRP - belched - moment!

"Dont be a pussy" The screen said this time, as knowing he was whining.

- No way this game just called me a "pussy"! - he said ofended - Im not, and in gonna show them all - he said while opening his legs in the chair in a more relaxed position, tooking a moment to scracht his balls in front everybody before starting the new round.

In that position everybody could apreciate some strong arms and legs that people didnt knew Alan had abd Alan didnt remenber to have worked on.

"Sexy" a guy comented.

He was gay, but for some reason reading that from a guy, maked him feel angry.

- Dont be a weirdo, dude - he said

He was gay, right..?

Then started playing again, not releasing every time his character died, a part of His persona did too.

Yelling, coursing, chugging beer and burping, acting with a cocky attitude more and more, every round, less nice, less gay, less him, until...

- BROS, I-OARRRRRP -He couldnt contain a burp - I DID IT!

His character was holding that black and White flag.

"Now youre a real alpha" the tv screen said With that strange music still.

"Now youre the Man of the future"

And with that, the remains of Alan were erased, he didnt remenber being a girly gay guy anymore, he always had been an alpha, a straight, gassy, jock that loved playing videogames and humillating the noobs and "queerdos" on the games.

Alan started doing a "celebration dance" that basically was doing hip moviments to show his bulge. Like he were fucking someone.

- This Is for you, @broski - Alan put His microphone close to his ass and ripped a big, loud, smelly fart on It - i beated you - he said proud. Between laughs he added - Nah, GG bro, youre talented, definetly gonna share It with the bros.

"Whats happening with Him?!' someone comented

"@ yourbroski: That flag send the fag away"

Alan didnt even read those coments, he was busy trying to fan away the fart with his hands.

That Night the strange transformartion of the gay gamer Alan was trending everywhere, but before His friend Group had read something, they receive link to a Game from Alan.

"Alan: Best game of the month broskis"

The group of friends made up of gay guys and nice straight guys thought Alan's writing was odd, but without knowing the situation they gave more atention to the link, opening it, ready to play a life-changing game, "The man of the future."

(This is just fetish writing)

[mariacallous]

Salman Rushdie has just published Knife: Meditations After an Attempted Murder. In August 2022, he was giving a talk at the Chautauqua Institution in New York. Hadi Matar, a 24-year-old from New Jersey, rushed the stage and stabbed him 15 times. It was astonishing that Salman survived. He lost the sight in one eye and sustained terrible injuries, but he’s still with us and he’s still writing, and unlike Hadi Matar, he’s still worth hearing.

We think of fanatics as stalkers with an obsessive knowledge of their targets.  Like the antisemites who compile lists of Jews in the media or the homophobes who so focus on the details of gay sex they might almost be closet cases

Most terrorists and bigots are not like that. They are like soldiers in an army who kill and hate for no other reason than tradition or men in authority have told them to kill and hate. If we were less fascinated by the pseudo-glamour of violence, we would see them for what they are: dullards and jerks.

In Knife Salman is almost as angered by the sheer lazy stupidity of his wannabee assassin as his violence.

“I do not want to use his name in this account. My Assailant, my would-be Assassin, the Asinine man who made Assumptions about me, and with whom I had a near-lethal Assignation … I have found myself thinking of him, perhaps forgivably, as an Ass.”

The ass “didn’t bother to inform himself about the man he decided to kill. By his own admission he read barely two pages of my writing and watched a couple of YouTube videos”.

That was enough, apparently, along with a little light indoctrination in the Levant.

We know from Matar’s mother that her son changed from a popular young man to a moody religious zealot after visiting her ex-husband in the Hezbollah-controlled town of Yaroun in Lebanon, a mile or so from the Israeli border.

“I was expecting him to come back motivated, to complete school, to get his degree and a job. But instead, he locked himself in the basement. He had changed a lot. He didn't say anything to me or his sisters for months.”

Salman quotes a wonderfully perceptive line from Jodi Picoult

“If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.”

Rushdie is openly contemptuous, as he has every right to be.

“I see you now at twenty-four,” he writes, “already disappointed by life, disappointed in your mother, your sisters, your father, your lack of boxing talent, your lack of any talent at all; disappointed in the bleak future you saw stretching ahead of you, for which you refused to blame yourself.”

This has always been the way. Readers old enough to remember 1989 when the Ayatollah Khomeini ordered Salman’s execution for writing a blasphemous satire of Islam’s origin story in the Satanic Verses,will know that Khomeini had not read it. Nor had the furious demonstrators in the streets or the regressive leftists and Tory ministers who upbraided him for the non-crime of causing offence.

Those of us who had read the book pointed out that it was a magical realist fiction which contained sympathetic accounts of the racism Muslim immigrants in the UK suffered. Indeed, the Tories of the day loathed Salman, we continued, because of his confrontations with official racism.

But after a while we fell silent. Pleading with his enemies felt demeaning. It gave them undeserved credit, as if they were reasonable people, who could be swayed by evidence rather than just, well, pillocks.

In Knife Salman attempts an imaginary conversation with his persecutor.

OK, he says, Islam, unlike Judaism and Christianity, holds that man is not made in God’s image. God has no human qualities, it says.

But isn’t language a human quality? To have language, God would have to have a mouth, a tongue, vocal cords and a voice, just like a man. The terrorist’s understanding is that God cannot be like a man, however. So, God could not have spoken to Gabriel in Arabic. Gabriel must have translated his message when he came to the prophet.

The angel made it comprehensible to Muhammed by delivering it in human speech which is not the speech of God.

Thus, the version of Islamic instruction Matar received in his basement when he switched from playing video games to listening to Imams was an interpretation of a translation.

“I’m trying to suggest to you that, even according to your own tradition, there is uncertainty. Some of your own early philosophers have suggested this. They say everything can be interpreted, even the Book. It can be interpreted according to the times in which the interpreter lives. Literalism is a mistake.”

For a while, Rushdie says he wants to meet Matar again at the trial, as if he wants to have the argument in the flesh.

He tells a story about Samuel Beckett, which could only have happened to Samuel Beckett.

Beckett was walking through Paris in 1938 when he was confronted by a pimp named Prudent, who wanted money from him. Beckett pushed Prudent away, whereupon the pimp pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the chest, narrowly missing the left lung and the heart.

Beckett was taken to the nearest hospital, bleeding heavily. He only just survived.

You will never guess who paid for his treatment. James Joyce, of course, he did.

Anyway, Beckett went to the pimp’s trial. He met Prudent in the courtroom, and asked him why he had done it. This was the pimp’s reply: “Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Je m’excuse.” (I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.)

But the more he thought about it, the less Rushdie had to say to his enemy. The idea that you can have theological arguments with a man who wants to kill you for writing a book he hasn’t even read felt ridiculous.

Although popular culture is full of stories about murderers, and true crime podcasts top the charts, killers and fanatics are nearly always less interesting than their victims. More often than not they are just thick. Nasty and vicious, but thick first of all.

We are about to see the stupidity of fanatics deployed on a mass scale. Two thirds of Republican voters (and nearly 3 in 10 Americans) continue to believe that the 2020 election was stolen from Donald Trump, and that Joe Biden was not lawfully elected. They think it because that is what Trump told them to think.

Islamists told Matar that Salman was an apostate, and that was all he needed to know. Trump told Republicans the election was stolen and ditto.

If Republicans were consistent people, they would not vote for Trump in 2024. What would be the point? They would have every reason to fear that the deep state would rig the 2024 presidential election as it rigged the 2020 presidential election.

But they will vote for him because, once again, that is what he tells them to do.

In the end there is a limit to how much attention you can pay the vicious and the stupid.

They are not interesting enough, as Rushdie concluded with marvellous disdain as he contemplated the life sentence Matar will face.

"Here we stand: the man who failed to kill an unarmed seventy-five-year-old writer, and the now 76-year-old writer. Somewhat to my surprise, I find I have very little to say to you. Our lives touched each other for an instant and then separated. Mine has improved since that day, while yours has deteriorated. You made a bad gamble and lost. I was the one with the luck… Perhaps, in the incarcerated decades that stretch out before you, you will learn introspection, and come to understand that you did something wrong. But you know what? I don’t care. This, I think, is what I have come to this courtroom to say to you. I don’t care about you, or the ideology that you claim to represent, and which you represent so poorly. I have my life, and my work, and there are people who love me. I care about those things.”

[yowyowyaoi]

*At the newly rebuilt Uchiha compound*

Sasuke: So today’s the day, eh, old man? Are you nervous?

Obito, standing in front of a mirror: N-no! Why would I be nervous??

Madara, from his easy chair: You’ve only re-adjusted that tie about fifteen times now, boy. Tsk; all of this preparation for that eye-stealing son of a —

Itachi: Okay, “gramps”, we talked about this. You know it’s only by virtue of Kakashi Hatake’s compassion and mercy that you and Obito were allowed to remain free after the war. Be grateful.

Madara, grumbling: “Mercy”, indeed. He only pardoned us so that the Hokage wouldn’t be getting engaged to a war criminal.

Sasuke: All things considered, Kakashi has been great to all of us, Obito or no Obito. Look, he’s even going to go through this silly clan tradition of “performing” for your intended fiance’s Clan Elder in order to get permission to marry Obito.

Madara: The “clan elder” who SHOULD be me.

Obito, turning from the mirror: C’mon, gramps, we all voted on the wisest and fairest one here being Itachi. He beat you out fair and square; get over it already.

Itachi: I can’t wait to see what kind of act he’s going to put on for us. Does he even have any creative talents?

Obito: I’m not really sure, but I think he mentioned something about singing.

Sasuke: … Singing? I’ve never heard him —

*in the distance there’s a loud commotion coming up the road towards the house*

Madara: *sighs* Sounds like it’s starting; perhaps we should take our places outside.

*all of them go out into the courtyard, where there are prearranged chairs. Obito is the only one not in a chair; he takes a veil and uses it to cover his face, sitting on Itachi’s right side on the ground by his feet*

*A small parade marches up the road towards the house. Kakashi is in the center, dressed all in white. Naruto is on his right, playing a small drum ((slightly off-beat)), Gai is to Kakashi’s left, crying and playing a french horn, and Sakura is to Naruto’s right, skillfully playing a small keyboard strapped to her shoulders*

*they come to a stop directly in front of Itachi, and Kakashi kneels in the grass at Itachi’s feet*

Kakashi: Itachi Uchiha, head of the Uchiha clan. I come before you this morning to receive your blessing to marry Obito Uchiha. As per the traditions of your clan, I have prepared a song that expresses my feelings for him.

Itachi, trying to keep the smile from his face: Proceed.

Kakashi: *stands and beckons to the group, who start to play a gentle-sounding melody*

Kakashi, opening his mouth and letting out a startling horrible singing voice: Obitooooo! I love you sooooo! Since we were little boys, and you would steal all of my toys —

*the Uchiha’s immediately go into telepathically communicating with each other*

Sasuke: Oh my God …

Madara: *laughing hysterically inside of all their minds* I KNEW it!! I knew this union wasn’t meant to be!

Obito: Shut up, Madara! Can’t you tell how heartfelt this is??

Madara: Heartfelt, or meant to make me feel like clawing my heart out of my chest so that I’m not here to suffer this anymore?

Itachi: He’s trying … it’s not so bad …

Kakashi: … and even though I’m not worthy of your claaaaan, I still want you, Obito, to be my maaaaaaan, so come on please, Itachi, give me his haaaaaand —

Sasuke: For God’s sake, even that tone-deaf dumbass Naruto is cringing! Big brother, please, just give him permission and end this! My ears can’t take much more!

Kakashi: And now for the second part of my song, I want to —

Itachi, out-loud: NO! N-no need for any more. You’ve convinced me; there is nobody more worthy of Obito Uchiha’s hand than you. *stands and takes Obito by the arm, lifting him to his feet, before placing his hand in Kakashi’s* Emgagement granted. Come back tomorrow and we shall dine together and discuss plans for a wedding.

*cheers erupt as Kakashi moves Obito’s veil back from his face, and the two kiss*

Sasuke, to Sakura: I’m glad that’s over. I can’t imagine having had to sit through a second verse.

Sakura, grinning: Oh if you thought THAT was bad, wait until you hear the act that Naruto’s got planned for when he comes to ask Itachi for your hand. Lets just say I’ve got my medical team working on hearing aids and prosthetic ears for everyone as we speak.

Sasuke:

[mr2swap]

wedding gift for "dad"

I feel terrible about how things turned out for me and my son David, but there is nothing I can do now. All I can do is live the life David always wanted for himself and his husband, Andrew.

I met Andrew when he was just a little boy who used to come every afternoon to play with my son David, the two of them were inseparable so much that I came to consider Andrew as the second son I never had, the years passed, and I saw how Andrew and David became men, until that moment I never believed that there was more than friendship between them, they were always so fanatical of spending their afternoons training in the gym until long hours of the night, studying in long sleepovers that lasted all weekend week and rehearsing their choreographies for the dance club they were both enrolled in. I guess I should have seen the signs.

10 years ago while the whole family was together and David was next to him, he decided to tell us the truth, they had been secretly dating for so long that I almost choked on a mouthful of my wife's delicious meatloaf, they all seemed quite happy at that moment everyone except me.

I was so stupid back then that at that moment, I decided that the man in front of me was not my son anymore, I started treating him differently, I cut myself off from him and Andrew completely, damn it! I even felt sorry that everyone on our street knew about it before I did. I'm 59 years old, in my day all that shit was kept secret, of course there were gay people, but I never thought David would be one of them.

For the good of the family I decided to just ignore David, but when he and Andrew came to my house with an invitation to their wedding I just couldn't help myself anymore, I told David that I didn't agree with his lifestyle and if he wanted to be gay had to be done outside this house and forever, I wouldn't attend the wedding of two fagots, let alone let someone from my family know about it.

From that moment I did not see David or Andrew again, until their wedding day, I was alone at home watching the football game on television, my wife had betrayed me and left me alone to go to the wedding from David and Andrew, I drank a six pack of beers just to forget today's wedding, but while you were watching the game something strange happened, I don't know if it was the effect of the beers or maybe the strange wish that my son made, I swear that In a simple blink that I lived in slow motion I was transported from the comfortable sofa in my house to a hotel room.

I looked around surprised because my living room had become an elegant room on the twelfth floor of a hotel, believing that I was in an extremely realistic dream, I looked at my hands, they were no longer old and wrinkled, now they were firm and young, my clothes I had also changed instead of a dirty tank top that highlighted my huge belly and yellowed boxer shorts I was now dressed in a fancy tuxedo, I looked down in surprise that my belly didn't obstruct my vision to see my feet which were now in a pair in elegant black shoes.

-This must be a dream…-

I said out loud and startled by the sudden change in the tone of my voice, something seemed familiar in that voice, but I didn't know what it was, I decided to believe that I was in a lucid dream thanks to all the pain that I normally suffered in my back and on my knees they disappeared, with my long and firm fingers I held my hard and firm pectorals, even the sensations on my skin were different and for some reason my nipples were also much more sensitive.

I kept using my fingers to highlight each of my muscles, I continued down towards my chiseled abs, surprised to find myself with the hardness of my muscles instead of a grotesque round belly, I looked to the sides trying to find a mirror, so I could see myself better, and luckily I found one that was on the other side of the huge hotel room.

When I first looked at my reflection, I immediately recognized the face that was now mine.

-AHHH!!!-

Indeed, that was not my face, it was the face of my son David, I fell backwards terrified by the impact of seeing my son again and at the same time knowing that I was him, I remained silent for a whole minute making movements slowly while crawling to the mirror my eyes did not take off for a single second from the reflection in the mirror that imitated each of my movements.

As I knelt in front of the mirror, I examined my son's mature handsome face, his perfectly trimmed beard, his whitened teeth, and his hair which I had recently painted black.

-What the fuck is… This?-

I caressed my new face while making strange expressions with my son's face in the mirror, to verify that it was me who was there. Suddenly, from the other side of the room, the ringing of a telephone made me wake up from hypnosis in who was submerged while looking at my face.

I stood up and awkwardly walked to the phone now that I was aware of the vast difference between my obese body and the young body of my gay son.

Before I had the phone in my hands I looked at the number, immediately recognizing it was the number we had had in the house for years, less and less convinced that this was a dream, I picked up the phone and simply answered it.

-He-hello?-

For five long seconds that seemed like an eternity the phone remained silent, a hoarse and thick voice broke the silence in which we were.

-Dad are you?-

-Who speaks? David? for the love of god what's happening?-

-Oh shit! If you are the one in my body, I… I'm sorry, I think this is my fault.-

-David, where the hell are you? and where am i? why is this your fault?

I had to sit down for the long conversation we had that day, he doesn't know exactly what happened, he was just getting ready to go down to the reception and be on his wedding day, but it seems an unexpected gift arrived, from out of nowhere a mysterious gift appeared on the floor, it was in front of the door so I guess it was a gift from her future husband or maybe the reception had sent them something in gratitude for renting the ballroom, the gift box was simple and it only had a name on it.

From: Mr2 Swap

He thought the gift was a mistake, that it simply wasn't for him and one of the hotel workers had got the wrong room, but for some reason he couldn't leave the gift unopened, it was almost as if he was calling him .

When he finished dressing, the gift was still there and David could not resist the supernatural curiosity that invaded him, he took the gift in his hands and opened it, he was not expecting anything specific, but what the box contained surprised him, it was a simple golden ticket

"Valid for one wish"

David looked everywhere, but there were no more letters or signs of who had sent the ticket.

-A wish huh?… I just wish dad was here to see how I get married-

And after that we both woke up in each other's place, while there Disney was counting all this madness I looked everywhere even under the bed, but there was no ticket not even a gift box it was like after his wish was fulfilled would have vanished.

While I was still looking for some clues as to where that strange gift had gone, my wife also dressed in an elegant dress entered the room, as soon as I saw her I knew that she had to find out what had happened to me and David But the words wouldn't come out of my mouth no matter how hard I tried I couldn't say a single word about the exchange or about the real David now being drunk in my body thousands of miles from here.

-the wedding planner is waiting for you son, if you take longer on the phone, we will have to postpone dinner-

Caught by the magic of the ticket, I act exactly as David did, I took one last look in the mirror and with a smile I fixed my hair, I definitely wouldn't act like this in a situation like this, but David's personality was so dominant in to my mind that now that so much time has passed since then I can't believe that I actually married another man.

I drank a couple of drinks to ease the tension but as soon as I saw Andrew for the first time through my son's eyes it was like seeing him for the first time, he was a bit taller than me he had a lovely smile and had a body so fucking hot in that body hugging black suit that a boner formed when I kissed him in front of my family and David and Andrew's friends

I will never forget my first kiss with Andrew, his lips were firm but soft, his tongue was so wild that I was carried away by the intoxicating taste of his saliva and that slight taste of champagne, with his long and strong arms he caressed my round butt giving me a prelude to what would be my wedding night, the grip on his fingers dug into the meat of my ass like teeth, in my old life I never allowed myself to be weak, but now I enjoyed my newly husband's manipulations.

By the time the wedding ended I was drunk enough to let myself go, the real Andrew noticed my nervousness a bit, but he thought it was just the nerves before the wedding, I hadn't seen my son or Andrew in years, I knew what enough for the time we were together and for what his mother said to convince him that I was the real David.

Hours went by and it got darker and darker, when all the guests had left and me and Andrew went up to the room, the real performance began, the second we walked through the door immediately Andrew took my hands and he tossed me onto the bed like I was a wild animal I stripped naked revealing my son's years worked muscles, my heart was pounding like crazy as I watched Andrew take off his shirt in front of me, I had seen Andrew shirtless a lot of times when I was in my old body, but now it was very different.

As if they had a life of their own my hands began to adore Andrew's massive hairy pecs, I pinched those nipples that were in front of me and buried my face in the middle of his pecs, the smell was delicious, sweat, and a slight scent of champagne spilled on his shirt, Andrew seemed to be enjoying it even more than I was, his moans that must have seemed repulsive to me before now only turned me on more and more as he released one.

Andrew I can't contain myself for another second he took me by the waist and turned my body so that I was lying face down towards the bed, my legs settled as if they knew exactly what was happening, I arched my back and lifted my ass to display it in front of Andrew, this time the moans that filled the room were my own.

Andrew had plunged his face into my ass and with the same ferocity that he had desecrated my mouth he did with my anus, even though he had magically acquired the personality of my son David, all the sensations will be new to me, and my God. , what fucking incredible sensations!

As he used his tongue to please me with his strong, calloused, firm hands, he took my penis and began to masturbate it, for a straight man and I have done the old-fashioned like me all these pleasurable sensations were incredible.

But neither me nor Andrew were satisfied, Andrew stuck his tongue out of my hairy ass and slowly inserted his cock inside me, it was a painful sensation, but somehow familiar and pleasant, he fucked me so hard that day that surely we didn't let sleep to the people in the next room.

He was so drunk and so tired that day that I didn't realize when he had put me to sleep, and when I woke up to the rest of Andrew, I almost fell out of bed. Immediately, all the memories of the day before came to mind. I got out of bed as quietly as possible, took the phone and unlocked it with Andrew's face, it had 58 calls from the real David.

I changed into a pair of my son's tight revealing underwear and went into the bathroom, called David and told him everything that had happened that night, completely avoiding that Andrew and I had fornicated.

It was strange hearing my son cry in my old voice, but there was nothing I could do to comfort him, I just promised him that he would try to figure this out and not ruin his life or his new marriage.

Since that day I have been pretending to be David, every day is something new and to be honest it is exciting, thanks to my new personality I was able to fully adapt to David's gay life the new ideas did not seem disastrous to me as they would have seemed to me in my Old body, I always thought my son was a model or something, I soon found out that he and Andrew were the best strippers in the city where we now live, we had loads of money, I never thought fagots would pay so much just to see me dance, having fun, kissing and stroking my husband's cock in public.

It's been three years since then, Andrew and I have a nice house that we remodeled, a lot of savings in the bank, and we recently started an OnlyFans account as a couple, and he never suspected that she married her boyfriend's father.

Actually no one ever found out about the body swap, that's still our secret between me and David, and speaking of David we talked again after the swap, he has a hard time adjusting to his new life as a bigoted middle-aged man, all those stupid ideas that used to be in my head are now in hers but I think she's adjusting to her new gay son.

It's a bit hard to admit, but I prefer my new life, so I'll try not to open a mystery gift from Mr2 swap again.

Hello, if you liked this story and you want more, you can take a look at my Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[qqueenofhades]

Good Omens Season 2: Some Thoughts (and also Screaming)

First, /screams

Second, obligatory disclaimer that this meta contains MAJOR SPOILERS for all six episodes. If you somehow have managed to remain virginally unspoiled, look away now, scroll past, or add "good omens s2" and "good omens spoilers" to your block list, as those are the tags I have been using for all posts and reblogs.

Third, /screams more

Okay okay okay. Deep breaths.

Anyway, so, uh, how about all that, huh? First, the good thing about the tone of the season overall was that it felt considerably darker and more adult, in a good way. We didn't have the precocious kiddies, the kitsch and literally-comphet Anathema and Newt, the so-clever narration, etc. All that was gone, which makes sense when you consider that a) the end of last season saw them reboot into an entirely new universe, and b) the fact that God has gone silent is, in fact, a major plot point for the season. We don't have Her slyly telling us the story, or indeed anything, and everyone is left to make their own judgments and take their own actions. Which, obviously, gets them into a lot of trouble, especially when Metatron (the Voice of God, aka someone acting in the belief that they're speaking for God and therefore doing terrible harm) swoops in with the ultimate buzzkill at the end of episode 6. But we'll get to that.

The downside was that the main, present-day plot (hiding Gabriel in the bookshop and trying to get Nina and Maggie to fall in love) was fairly thin, felt stretched out and at times weirdly paced, and otherwise existed mostly to get us to That Ending and the setup for season 3. But the ending was so damn good (if obviously, very painful) that I can't be TOO mad, not least because we spent six episodes with them just making absolutely no pretense about the whole thing being as incredibly homosexual as possible. I'll be honest: I did not think they were going to actually, explicitly go there. Neil Gaiman has been so consistent about "your interpretations are valid and you're welcome to read it however you want, but the only canon is what's on screen," which I think is frankly a good thing (not least since the Neil GAYman Cinematic Universe is consistently very, very good to us queers), that I just... didn't quite think they'd pull the trigger. Sir Terry is dead and can't have active input, this is based on a book published 30 years ago, maybe they didn't want to make it LIKE THAT... etc. I certainly hoped, but I didn't really think they would.

Uh. Well.

As I said in my various semi-coherent liveblog posts, I honestly don't think there was a single straight person in the entire season, among both major and background characters. Aziraphale/Crowley and Maggie/Nina are the obvious paralleling couples, but Beelzebub (using "they" pronouns and addressed as "Lord" despite presenting as femme/femme-adjacent) is clearly nonbinary and therefore also queer, and the countless gay/queer side characters were just /chefs kiss. From Job's son making a sassy pass at Aziraphale, to the random Scottish goon with Grindr on his phone (which he then gives to Aziraphale, because what is subtlety), to the interracial couple with the trans spouse at the Pride and Prejudice ball, there was just a lot of casual, unremarked, non-story-critical queer representation visible at every turn. It's like the NGCU saw the bigots wailing about Sandman season 1 being extremely gay and went CHALLENGE ACCEPTED, LET'S MAKE GOOD OMENS 2 EVEN MORE GAY.

God bless.

Obviously, Jon Hamm as Amnesia!Gabriel stole the show (he was SO fucking funny) and it was also incredibly fun to watch Miranda Richardson repurposed as a scheming demon. Nina Sosanya also reappeared as Nina the coffee shop owner, which leads us into the Maggie-and-Nina subplot. They're obviously, wildly, incredibly clearly an analogue for Aziraphale and Crowley themselves, but they're also each, crucially, a mix of both. On the surface, Maggie is Aziraphale: the plump, blonde, earnest, sweet-natured one owning a slightly dated book music shop and somewhat clueless about emotional nuances, while Nina is (also on the surface) Crowley, the hard-edged dark loner who doesn't want to open herself up to people or be spotted caring. But emotionally, Maggie is Crowley: the one openly pining, clearly besotted, only wanting to hang around their crush and do whatever they can to make themselves useful, while Nina is Aziraphale. Interested but reticent, attracted but conflicted, trapped in an abusive relationship with a demanding offscreen "lover" (Lindsay/Heaven) who tries to constantly control and shame them without ever offering much, if anything in return. By the end, they bring themselves around to what Maggie/Crowley are offering, but by then, well. We've got a lot more problems on our hands.

As I also said in my earlier posts, this entire thing has always been a metaphor for religion, queerness, and what religion -- especially abusive, fundamentalist, organized religion -- does to queer people, but they really cranked the FUCK out of that metaphor this season. Aziraphale is guilt-tripped, controlled, and shamed for his attraction to Crowley at every turn. He is torn between his imagined duty to Heaven, in all its ignorant, uncaring, bureaucratic, gratuitously cruel system that he still insists on seeing the best in because he can't bear the alternative, and the chaotic and sometimes grey but genuinely more good morality that Crowley offers him. (Can I just say, we were explicitly shown that the two of them together doing "just a little miracle" are more powerful than Heaven AND Hell combined.) And at the end, he's told that the only way he can be with Crowley -- what Metatron explicitly blackmails him with -- is if they both go back to heaven, submit themselves to the cruel system again and give up everything that has made them who they are: their home in London, their human friends, their reliance on each other, their independence, their own ways of doing things. You can be queer in this (religious) framework, but only the limited, watered-down, controlled, controllable, constantly-under-supervision kind of queer, which relies on both you and your lover "converting" back to the true faith. And if you don't cooperate, they will literally kidnap you, lie to you, manipulate you, take you from your soulmate, and force you right back into doing the one thing (destroying the world) that you never, ever wanted to do in the first place, because in their minds, that is still better than this. It's for your own good.

Ouch.

And the thing is: that's why the ending a) hits so hard and b) is so fucking painful, because of course Aziraphale agrees. He has no conception of being able to defy Heaven on his own; he has always, always needed Crowley for that. In the flashbacks, when Aziraphale is faced with an order from Heaven that he desperately does not want to carry out (such as letting all Job's children get killed), he still relies completely on Crowley to "outsmart the rules" and find a better way. Crowley is A Crafty Demon; that's what he does, and so Aziraphale rationalizes it to himself that therefore that must be fine. Even in season 1, when he really didn't want the Apocalypse to happen but initially thought it was his duty as a good Heaven footsoldier, he relied on Crowley to talk him out of it and allow him to do what he really wants instead. That's their whole dynamic in a nutshell, as exemplified in that scene in episode 2, where Crowley tempts Aziraphale with the "pleasures of the flesh" while sprawled on his back in Ravish Me mode like the giant walking gay disaster that he is. (Sorry, buddy. That beard. Can't do it.) Everything that Aziraphale's existence is, that makes him who he is, that he loves and cherishes the most (in this case, food and wine) comes from Crowley. Everything else is just background noise.

Throughout the season, what we see is Aziraphale increasingly coming around to the fantasy of being with Crowley. He's coy and flirty; he talks about "our car" and expects Crowley will let him (which he does); he wants to have a Jane Austen ball and for them to dance together (oh my heart); he even thinks, at the crucial moment, that the best way for them to be together is to go back to heaven just like they were in the beginning, once more perfect angels, as if those entire six thousand years of struggle and grief and pining and separation and falling didn't happen. And Crowley -- poor, poor, brave, devoted, heartbroken Crowley -- has just heard for the first time in said six thousand years that actually telling the person you love how you feel is an option. Maggie and Nina tell them point-blank that their whole stupid plan failed because people aren't chess pieces who can be moved and automatically achieve the desired result. And of course this gobsmacks the dearest and dumbest Ineffable Husbands, because they can't conceive of anything else. People are chess pieces in the Great War of Heaven and Hell; Aziraphale and Crowley themselves are chess pieces who have been desperately trying to get out of being moved by external forces, but that doesn't change the fact that that's what they are. They don't have volition or agency aside from that which they can sneak for themselves in brief and stolen moments. That's it.

Until, well. It's not it. They discover that this whole would-be war is actually an elaborate ruse to cover up another angel-demon romance, that of Gabriel and Beelzebub. (I'll be honest, I'm 99% sure they did this storyline because they saw the fans crackshipping them, but I appreciate a fictional narrative that values and incorporates its fans' input, rather than trying to constantly "trick" or "outsmart" them or "do what they don't expect.") And Gabriel and Beelzebub get to be together, but only by leaving their world forever. They have to desert their homes, their structures, even their own identities, and never return. And Crowley and Aziraphale are so rooted in their "precious, perfect, fragile" life in their little corner of Soho, with their bookshop and their Bentley and their dining at the Ritz (which they didn't get to do in the end because METATRON /shakes fist), that that just doesn't work. Neither of them can conceive of doing that. So Aziraphale thinks "go back to heaven and try to make the terrible system do some good and take what we can in terms of being together" and Crowley just... pours out his heart. He's ready to fucking propose. He barely stops himself from saying something to the effect of "I want to spend eternity with you." He begs, he pleads with Aziraphale to go away not in the literal sense, but the emotional/metaphysical: to finally break this toxic dependence on Heaven and tell them once and for all where to stick it. And because he is desperate to make Aziraphale understand, he finally throws all caution to the winds and recklessly, desperately, adoringly kisses him, the one thing he's wanted to do for ages and...

Gets. Shot. Down.

Ugghhhhh. I'm suffering all over again. Aziraphale wants him, hungers for it, for them, and yet he's been so abused and so conditioned by Heaven (he's still blithely repeating to Crowley's face that "Hell are the bad guys!") that he just cannot accept that kind of desperate, blind, limitless, lawless affection. He even forgives Crowley for this "transgression," just to really twist the knife, and Crowley just can't take it, can't face up to how terribly this has all gone up in flames, after he went to heaven trying to find the answer for Gabriel's situation. Gabriel, who he fucking hates. Gabriel, who tried to kill the angelic being he loves (and for which Crowley has transparently never forgiven him). And yet at one pouty puppy-eyed look from Aziraphale and a warning that whoever is harboring Gabriel might be in danger, Crowley leaps headlong into the Bentley again and rushes to the rescue while "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" is blaring. He stoutly protects Gabriel; he does a miracle to disguise him; he lets him have hot chocolate and stay in the bookshop; he guards him from the literal demonic horde outside. All because of Aziraphale. That's it. And then, it still doesn't work. Not only that, Gabriel's absence and decision to forego Armageddon gives Heaven the one tool they finally need to take Aziraphale away from him.

I repeat: Ugghhhhhhhh.

(In a good way. Ngl, I love this angst. This is the kind of angst my brain Thrives on, the Thematic Parallel Romantic Character Arc kind. Nom nom nom. But also: AGONY.)

I also need to talk about Aziraphale driving the Bentley, aside from the obvious metaphor of him being in Crowley's home while Crowley is in his. Last season, we had the "you go too fast for me, Crowley" scene with them sitting in said Bentley, which was Aziraphale saying he's not ready for a relationship. In this season, as noted above, we see Aziraphale increasingly embracing the potential fantasy of being with Crowley. But here's the catch: when he's in the Bentley this time, driving it, setting the pace, acclimating to the idea, he's driving his own idea of what the Bentley/his relationship with Crowley is. It's not the real thing. He plays classical music; he supplies himself sweets; he turns it yellow; he drives too slow. Crowley calls him in another old-married-couple snitfit to complain that Aziraphale's messed it up, but what Aziraphale has actually messed up (or will, by the end of the season) is far more consequential than just a car. He's changed the entire shape of their relationship to the one he thinks can make it work, and it just doesn't. It has to be them -- "we could have been... Us" -- or it's not even close to the truth. It's not worth their time.

I repeat: Ouch.

Speaking of the writers validating fan theories, I know we all picked up and screamed about on Crowley's idea of Peak Romance Guaranteed To Fall In Love being sheltering from rain and gazing into each other's eyes, which confirms that that poor bastard was indeed ass-over-teakettle gone as soon as he met Aziraphale (again) in Eden. I also need to talk about the 1941 redux, because wow. This time, the danger comes from Hell, which we see being its usual self: gleefully, pointlessly cruel, pettily backbiting, dirty, sniping, tedious, endless, determined to mindlessly destroy because They're The Bad Guys and they like it. So they blackmail, spy on, miracle-block, illicitly photograph, and try to prove that Aziraphale and Crowley are secretly a couple, right after Aziraphale himself has just had the Light From Heaven realization that he's in love (which we all also picked up on in s1). They're forcibly outing them (to speak of more Religious Queer Trauma) in order to break them up/get them into trouble with their authorities/families. Aziraphale and Crowley manage to escape it mostly by dumb luck, but Crowley having an altogether freakout, hands shaking, barely able to actually point the gun at Aziraphale even in the knowledge that it's supposed to be fake, is just... wow. He can't even fathom the idea of ever trying to destroy him in earnest, especially when he knows on some level that Aziraphale also finally just realized his own feelings. So I just need to --

/screams

Anyway, Aziraphale's entire arc this season is doing what he thinks is the right thing and then inadvertently causing harm and damage as a result. In the Edinburgh flashbacks (live slug reaction of me: SEAN BIGGERSTAFF???!!) he tries to stop Elspeth from stealing bodies and gets Morag killed and Crowley drinking the laudanum to save him (though that part with David Tennant just riffing left and right, using his natural Scottish accent, and being Tiny Crowley/Huge Crowley was hilarious). He invites his neighbors to a Pride and Prejudice ball and makes them all the target for demonic attack. And of course the Job episode: Aziraphale, horrified at Heaven's callous cruelty, desperate not to get Job's children killed, willing to go along with Crowley's tricks to save them somehow, tempted by Crowley to do the fucknasty with their angel bits eat some food and decide that he likes it. As mentioned, the whole thing about God being silent this season is a major thematic choice. The only time we see/hear God is Her communing with Job from afar. Aziraphale enviously imagines the answers he must be getting (he's not, he's baffled and perplexed), while Crowley longs beyond words to even have the opportunity to ask the question: why? Why do this? Why is this your plan?

And of course, this absence culminates in the Metatron, the Voice of God, the person arrogantly claiming that they're speaking for God and know exactly what Heaven wants, being able to seize Aziraphale by the short hairs and absolutely fuck him over. Gabriel is gone/decommissioned/eloping with Beelzebub, so Heaven needs a Supreme Leader (God apparently is no longer a factor in the equation). And what this Supreme Leader needs to do is finally unleash the Apocalypse that Gabriel decided to pass on (the Second Coming). Aziraphale needs to be punished, taken away from Crowley's influence/love, and put back under Heaven's explicit control, so Metatron spots a great opportunity to do all three at once. It's not an accident that the exact tool he uses to get Aziraphale to agree is "now you can actually be with Crowley!" Aziraphale and Crowley have been trying so hard to hide out from their respective Head Offices, but now all at once, there's this seemingly miraculous opportunity for them not to have to do that anymore! They can be together! They can be sanctioned by Heaven! They can give up all this hiding and sneaking around and lying! Isn't that better?

... As long as, of course, they give up absolutely everything that makes them who they are. No big deal. Minor catch. Probably nothing.

Metatron doesn't let Aziraphale have time to escape, or think it over, or reflect, or anything. He pressures Aziraphale to come with him immediately, or be once more subject to Heaven's implicit wrath/destruction/judgment. Believe me, Aziraphale already KNOWS he's made a huge mistake, as soon as he hears what Metatron really wants: bringing him back to unleash the Apocalypse that Aziraphale and Crowley have given up literally everything to prevent. He doesn't need time to reflect. By the time my man is in that elevator, he's well aware of what a catastrophic misjudgment he's made, and yet --

Aziraphale needs this. He has, as noted, literally always relied on Crowley outsmarting Heaven's cruel orders in order to prevent himself from having to do them. He's relied on Crowley rescuing him ("rescuing me makes him so happy," WELL BUB, IT'S BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS NEED IT). He admits to Crowley's face that "I need you!" He hates Heaven's sadistic meanness, but he has absolutely no framework, in and of himself, to defy it. When the rubber hits the road, he will crumple and try to go along with it, and now he's been put in a position where he's going to have to stand up, defy Heaven, and make the break once and for all BY HIMSELF. He doesn't have Crowley around to do it for him, he has no support, he is going to arrive in Heaven and be shuttled straight off to the Apocalypse 2.0 War Room. The only way he gets out of this is if he actively stands up, if he chooses himself and Crowley and their life, and he has to.

The thing is:

Aziraphale has lived his entire eternal existence Looking Up. Up is the direction of Goodness and Heaven. Up is where Angels go. Up is where Aziraphale comes from and where Demons and Hell are not. But now he's going Up, in a position to take over the whole shebang, and it's the last thing he wants.

So he's going to have to come back Down.

He's going to have to Fall. He's going to have to get back Below at all costs. He's going to have to finally, once and for all, understand what led Crowley to make the choice to leave Heaven and never come back. It's only then that they can possibly be together on any kind of conscious, equal, deliberate footing, claim their own agency, reject Heaven AND Hell, and try to really earn that South Downs cottage and that happy-ever-after, and it's gonna hurt so good.

Now if you will excuse me, /screams

[sinfulsalutations]

the bad batch irl headcanons: brainrot edition.

hunter

watches the boys, breaking bad, and basically anything with jk simmons in it

his top artist on his spotify wrapped was lana del rey and has been lana for 3 years straight

listens to self help audiobooks and true crime podcasts

stopped posting on tiktok because 30 year old moms kept commenting weird freaky shit

makes capcut template edits of himself

snap score is in the millions; his parents were confused on the questionnaire and instead ordered a thot son

tech

listens to playboi carti, earl sweatshirt, and ken carson. below them is classical music

never beats the “erm, actually” allegations. his friends turned him into a nerd sticker to use in conversations

reddit WARRIOR. his karma score is in the millions. he posts, no matter what, every two hours (schedules the posts if needed to). most active in the subreddits r/techtips and r/javascript

obeys the traffic laws in gta but if a pedestrian says some shit like “hey watch where you’re going asshole” he is CLOCKING that mfer

plays swipe games on tiktok religiously and will change his answers to fit better with the “lore”

watches jujutsu kaisen, has a tiktok collection dedicated entirely to gojo edits. despite that, maki is his favorite character

wrecker

his entire tiktok for you page consists of workout videos and cute animals

did the trend of tying a bow on the bicep and breaking it while he flexes

doesn’t know how to take photos of himself; watches tutorials on every social media he can find but still can’t figure it out

listens to bad bitch music. beyoncé, megan thee stallion, tinashe, doja cat, glorilla, nicki minaj, all that stuff.

comments “looked at my girl and smiled because she’s perfect” on a hot girls post

says “what the dog doin” all the time. all. the. time.

crosshair

serves cunt; serves all of the cunt

a back arching straight man; ur gay tote-bag carrying boyfriend

almost all his friends are lesbians. they take him to the queer/sapphic clubs and the chappel roan concerts

comments “why no one hating” on the most INNOCENT and PURE videos just to start arguments

is a biker boy but hates the whole “biker tok” stereotype and so he doesn’t go out on the bike anymore out of fear of being recorded without his consent

instagram notes is his main form of communication; he is an olympic ghoster

echo

his vocabulary contains “skibidi” “what the sigma” and “gyatt”

his most used “social medias,” in order, are pinterest, whatsapp, and tiktok

worked at a waffle house before he got fired for starting a fight

kpop fan. stans newjeans, tomorrow x together, and le sserrafim

the definition of “female rage”; also, indeed, serves cunt. not as much as crosshair, but serves cunt nonetheless.

has 13 daily hours of screen time. what is he doing for those hours? fuck if i know. fuck if he knows. fuck if his PHONE knows. (in reality, he leaves youtube videos playing all night and doesn’t even realize it)

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 44

Chapter 44 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Eddie doesn’t believe in signs, he is just working on saving people hit by the tsunami. However, a natural disaster forcing you back towards your family is as close to a sign as you can get.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: injury, minor character death mention

~~~

Chapter 44: Looking for a Sign

A tsunami. Eddie honestly isn’t sure why he didn’t expect that when he came into work today with the craziness that is LA, but then again, no one expects a natural disaster a year after the last one. If he has to guess, the only person that expected this is his mom, who expects LA to be the most dangerous place on earth every day of the week.

Eddie is so glad they managed to mollify her with a promise of a few weeks stay in El Paso by Chris over the break, because he doesn’t think he would have survived this last period if she’d been berating him every second.

He’s only just finding his footing again, becoming more confident. He’s not out, far from it, but he’s gotten comfortable thinking of himself as gay.

Work has helped – as has Bosko of course, but work is different – because it’s the same. Neither he nor Buck mentioned their troubles at home, well, Eddie’s troubles, so the others don’t ask questions or send him worried looks. They just treat him like Eddie, like he’s still the same. He needs that.

Right now, though, work is not like usual. A natural disaster is always an all hands on deck situation and this is no different.

It’s unreal to look over the carnage and Eddie is starting to be real glad they live on the other side of town. Chris was a little bummed out in the car on Friday when he brought him home, because they were going to stay in this weekend. Then Eddie felt slightly bad, almost traded his shift to be free today too, but now he’s only relieved that the two of them are far away from here.

They’re in the boats and all they’re passing are dead bodies to tag, which is always unpleasant work. However, the living ones they’re going to encounter are bound to be worse. Disasters like these always leave gruesome wounds.

Indeed, the first call they answer is pretty bad with soon to be official step-father and son stuck together by a pole through the both of them. They get the son out, but the husband to be is a harder call.

Tensions are high as Bobby dives into the water while the rest of them work to keep Chuck alive as a second surge hits the boat and water starts to come in. Underwater CPR is not an experience Eddie would like to relive.

However, they get him alive into transport, which is more than Eddie thought they’d get when they first came upon the scene. Hen and Chim go with him, so it’s out of his hands, because he follows Bobby to the pier to serve as back up.

The back up in question, is necessary at a Ferris wheel with a bunch of people stuck on it without enough transport and hands to get them away, before it comes down.

“Hey, we could use a hand up here,” a very familiar voice suddenly calls down.

Eddie’s head snaps up and he exclaims: “Bosko?”

Indeed, it is Bosko, who looks surprised for a second. She’s completely soaked and not in natural disaster gear, but she grins down at Eddie. “Diaz, hey! You’re late.”

“Oh fuck off,” he calls back, scanning for injuries. She looks okay and she’s not completely devastated or whatever. However, she is definitely putting on a professional front and Eddie can’t spot any more firefighter blue anywhere.

“You know her?” Bobby asks.

“Yeah, that’s Bosko. She works at the 136, she was my partner while I was there,” Eddie says, already getting ready to climb out of the boat and onto the Ferris wheel. “We work well together, should I go help her?” he asks, though he’s not really asking for permission.

“Alright,” Bobby gives it anyway, “grab an extra harness, rope, pulleys, figure eight plates. I’ll coordinate evac and transport some down here.”

“Sounds like a plan, Cap,” Eddie grins, before doing what he was already going to do and climbing up to where Bosko is.

When he gets there, the man in the cart with Bosko seems to be okay, albeit terrified out of his mind, and the Ferris wheel is shaking. Trying to lighten the air a little, he comments: “That’s not part of the ride,” asking for more information at the same time.

“No, the spokes are coming off the hub. This thing’s been trashed,” Bosko says, focusing on the patient and not looking at Eddie. Her face is scratched up.

“What about you?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she answers curtly, before nodding at the man. “And neither is he.”

“I’m not going anywhere, not until the water is gone,” the man insists.

“Sir, if you don’t come with us, this whole thing will be gone,” Bosko says rather harshly.

Eddie has never seen her mad like that and the weird reality that he’s going to have to be the calm one between them settles in. He also turns to the man and says: “Don’t worry, buddy. I’m gonna get you down safely. I’m just gonna put this harness around you, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” the man nods, still terrified.

“Alright,” Eddie nods, going to help the man while questioning Bosko. “You guys were on the pier when it hit? Where is everyone?”

“Robin’s out sick today and Daisy was man behind. The others… we got separated to all spin cycle. I haven’t seen any of them. Station’s probably hit too,” she replies, mouth pursed as if angry, though Eddie can see it’s just her brave face.

“We’ll run into them at some point,” Eddie assures her. “Cap will let you join our rescue team, we can search for them while we help others.”

The line on her face turns into a small smile and she thanks him, before the two of them lower the terrified man down. With him safely down, they turn to the next cart. Bosko now manages to joke more, saying: “You didn’t want to go climbing with me tomorrow, let’s see how you do now, huh.”

“I didn’t turn you down because I can’t climb. I was half thinking to surprise Chris then, since he was kind of down yesterday, but that clearly isn’t going to happen,” he says, nodding at the carnage around them. “Besides, you’re friends with way too many of your exes, it’s weird.”

“It’s lesbian culture,” she corrects.

“Still weird,” Eddie complains, before showing her that he can climb just fine.

Their next patient is more what you expect when you hear natural disaster. The man’s a possible spinal and if they don’t get a hail Mary, he has a small chance or recovery, if not survival. It isn’t looking great for Max.

However, just because it’s not looking great, doesn’t mean they’re going to give up on him. So, they all work together to get a headboard and neck brace up there, so they can stabilize his neck, while they keep the two occupants distracted by asking what they’d been doing at the pier. Your divorce papers getting interrupted by a tsunami is certainly a story to tell.

It seems the guy was looking for a sign, a sign to try and save their marriage. Buck believes in signs like this. Eddie wonders if he’d see being on this call as a sign, then wonders if he should see it as a sign too.

He shakes off the thought, he doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t believe in signs and he’s not going to start now. It can work out between him and Buck, they can still be friends, maybe even stay married. This doesn’t need to be the end, Eddie just has to figure out how to make it right between them. With slight amusement he makes a mental note not to take Buck to the pier when he finally figures it out.

Still, despite not believing in signs, he is relieved when the chopper comes and Max moves his fingers.

It’s just because he’s glad the guy has a better chance to live, he tells himself, trying to ignore the bit of devastation he feels in his chest when Max signs the divorce papers anyway. He called them a beautiful disaster.

Eddie can’t help but apply it to himself. His years with Buck have been the best of his life by far, but, as they said when explaining why they didn’t divorce, things just kept happening. Maybe they are a disaster too?

He likes to think he’s wrong about that, but the thought haunts him as they watch the chopper take Max away.

They lower the woman down, then he and Bosko start to get ready for their climb down. Before they start, they hear Bobby call out: “Incoming! Debris!”

Both their heads snap out towards the water, indeed seeing a slew of debris coming their way, carried by the receding tide. Eddie looks at Bosko and quirks a brow: “Okay, so maybe you climb better, but how’s your diving?”

“What? You suddenly an artistic diver?” Bosko retorts with amusement, as she also stops getting ready to climb down.

“Nah,” he laughs, before jumping.

Bosko is right behind him, the two of them getting pulled onto the ship by Bobby before the debris hits. Behind them, the Ferris wheel that they were just on collapses and Eddie tries to take that as a sign that whatever happened on there doesn’t matter.

When they get back, the receded water means that they can now wade through the water on foot, which is good news, since the trucks are still stuck on the other side of town, unable to get through to them, and boats are in short supply.

“Hen and Chimney are readying some turnout backpacks until we’re mobile again,” Bobby explains to the both of them, seamlessly incorporating Bosko into their team like Eddie predicted. Then he stops and turns to her. “Bosko, your crew from your house are all alive and accounted for, except for Captain Cooper. He’s still MIA. I’m sorry.”

Eddie knows how much Ronnie means to her and he can see it in her eyes that the relief immediately gets overshadowed by grief. MIA in a situation like this is never good. Still, Bosko tries to swallow down the pain, masking with professionalism. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, Captain, I’m gonna stick around and look for him.”

However, Bobby is annoyingly perceptive sometimes, so he doesn’t agree to that immediately, instead asking: “Why are you holding yourself like that?”

“It’s nothing, bruised rib,” Bosko says, playing it off, but Eddie knows her better than that. He’s seen her get punched in the face and react the exact same way.

“Let me take a look at that,” he says, stepping closer.

“I said it’s nothing,” Bosko insists with a foul look send his way.

He sticks his chin out challengingly. She called him out on his bullshit, he’s allowed, if not required, to return the favor. “Then there’s no harm in letting me take a look at it. The sooner you let me, the sooner you can go look for Ronnie. Unless it’s more than a bruised rib?”

“You’re an asshole,” she hisses.

“So, I’m right and it is more than a bruised rib.”

“I liked you better when your head was still so stuck in your own ass that didn’t even know you were a dick, you know that, Diaz?”

“Hey, no need to get aggressive,” Bobby steps between the perceived start of their fight.

“It’s alright, Cap,” Eddie assures him, as Bobby sends him a weird look. It’s not necessarily the kind of friendship the 118 has with each other and he knows it. He just sends a smile back, before turning to Bosko and says: “I had to be honest with you, now it’s your turn.”

She looks away for a second with her jaw squared stubbornly. For a moment, Eddie thinks she isn’t going to answer, then she grits out: “Fine, it’s broken. But I’m fine. I can go on.”

“You sure?” Eddie pulls a disbelieving face. “Must be hurting like a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, breathing isn't super fun,” Bosko says annoyed. “But I’m fine. You know I can take a punch.” “Well, it’s not up to him,” Bobby interrupts them again. “It’s up to me and I’m calling it. You’re out the field. USAR Command is setting up the VA hospital on Sawtelle.” He turns to Eddie. “I want you to stick with her just in case her desire to track down her Captain causes her to lose her way. I’m going to-”

“This is bullshit,” Bosko cuts him off. “You’re not my Captain. My Captain is out there somewhere and I’m not abandoning him to this disaster.”

Eddie winces at that. He knows Bobby isn’t too strict when it comes to decorum, but if she goes on like that, he’s going to have to discipline her. He’s been through that once, would not recommend it in the slightest.

However, before he can say something to soften her words for Bobby, they hear screaming coming from down the street. It’s people calling out for help.

Their little crew is the only ones in the vicinity, so Bobby lets out the big breath he’d just taken and holds up a finger to Bosko. “You’re coming with us on this, only because I don’t trust you enough to let you go by yourself and I might need Eddie’s extra set of hands. You’re going to stand there, help with the light stuff maybe, then you’re going directly to the VA hospital. Am I clear?”

He is most definitely not clear and Bosko would totally argue if there weren’t people screaming for help, but for now she just grits: “Crystal, sir.”

“Good,” Bobby nods after one intense look in her eyes, then he turns on his heel and marches to the people calling out, Bosko and Eddie right behind him.

While they walk behind him, Eddie hisses: “What the hell was that? Do you want to get suspended for insubordination?”

“Of course not, but he can’t stop me,” Bosko frowns back. “You know Ronnie is my friend, you wouldn’t let your friends be alone out here, would you?”

Eddie makes a complicated face, because he knows she’s right, but he also knows Bobby is right. It isn’t that easy. “You’re hurt,” he ends up saying. “Ronnie wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself to look for him.”

“Good thing he’s not here to say that then, so I guess we won’t know for sure, and I say he’d want me to look for him,” Bosko retorts. “What if it were Buck out there?”

“That’s a low blow,” Eddie says, not able to deny it, but still not liking it, sending a glance over to Bobby to make sure he hasn’t heard.

“But it’s true,” Bosko says. “Where is he today? He okay?”

“He’s home with Chris. Lazy day in probably and far away from all this,” Eddie says.

“Did you call them to tell them you’re okay?” Bosko asks and that’s a good point. He hasn’t spoken to Buck yet, not really, but a natural disaster is a good reason to break the habit. It could even be a first step towards coming home. Maybe this is his sign.

“I’ll call when I’m bringing you to the VA hospital.”

“Yeah, like I’m going to let you take me there,” Bosko mutters darkly.

Before Eddie can reply to that, they’ve made their way to a group of people. They’re all standing next to a fire engine or helping people down from it. Upon closer inspection, Eddie realizes it’s the fire engine of the 136. These people must have sheltered on it while the water raged around them.

Once they’re close enough, Bobby calls out: “LAFD, we’re here to help. What’s the problem? Is anyone hurt or stuck?”

“Plenty of people are hurt, but no one serious,” a woman says. “We need you to help us find this man. He saved us all. Pulled us up onto this truck when we drifted by, but he got swept away. He could be hurt.”

“Eddie here can check all of you over,” Bobby tells her gently. “What’s your name?”

“Marissa,” she answers.

“Well, Marissa, we can’t make any promises about finding your rescuer, but if you give us a description, we’ll make sure to keep an eye out for him,” Bobby says

“He’s tall, very tall, and white,” Marissa says. “Some of the debris must have hit him in the face, because he has a bruise on his eye. He’s blond.”

“No, you’re saying it all wrong,” another woman says. “He’s a redhead.”

“No, he’s not,” Marissa insists. “He pulled me out early, I had a good look at him.”

“Well, then you’re blind,” a man is now interjecting himself into the conversation as well. “He is definitely Hispanic.”

Marissa pulls a face. “He’s so not Hispanic.”

“Yes, he is,” the man insists.

The other woman is now picking his side as well, saying: “Yeah, you don’t have to be dark skinned to be Hispanic. You should check your stereotypes.” She turns to Bobby and says: “He’s Hispanic, his kid called him papi. He’s a tall, light skinned, redhead.”

“His hair is more a dirty blond, brownish color,” someone else says.

“No, his hair clashed with his shirt, which was red, so he’s a redhead,” the other woman says as if it is fact.

The three firefighters watch them squabbling about the rescuer’s appearance for a few seconds with confused blinks. It’s truly fascinating how normal people can act even in the face of horrifying events. They see it every day, people who are stabbed and bleeding out, but talking about the weather or complaining that the neck brace is itchy while they might be paralyzed.

Bobby, however, doesn’t have time for it, silencing the crowd as he raises his voice: “Can anyone here give us one description? Or a name? You mentioned a kid, do you still have the kid?”

“I don’t know,” the woman who first mentioned the kid says. “He fell off the truck. It’s why he dove off it again. Didn’t hesitate for a second. It was when the tide receded.” She calls out. “Did anyone see his kid?”

“Yeah, we got him here,” a voice from the back of the crowd calls back. “He managed to grab onto a windowsill a street down.”

“Bring him here,” Bobby calls back.

Eddie is focusing on wrapping the man’s hand, since he still has a job to do. They can’t look for every person, but it’s good to have descriptions of people who are out here so they can get an overview of the total victim count. Maybe give some family out there some closure.

However, he looks up when he hears a sharp intake from Bobby. That’s never a good sound and it seems even worse when he sees Bobby. He’s become white and looks sickened at what is coming towards them through the parting crowd.

He looks to what Bobby might be seeing that is horrifying him this much. It’s a short woman carrying a kid, looking to be between seven or nine. Probably eight. The kid is wearing a yellow striped shirt and brown pants, on his head is a mop full of curls and a strap to hold his glasses in place…

Horror overtakes him too as the kid starts to look more and more familiar. Thoughtlessly he abandons the man’s wound as he gets up from his squat, ignoring the “Hey!” the man lets out.

He feels like he can’t breathe as the woman softly says: “He’s looking for his papi,” before she turns the kid towards them, indeed revealing a face Eddie would usually love to see, but not in these circumstances. Never in these circumstances.

“Christopher?”

Indeed it’s Chris, who blinks more water out of his eyes, before his eyes focus on Eddie. The moment he recognizes him, his face crumbles and he cries out: “Daddy!”

People all but jump out of his way as he rushes towards the woman, realization dawning on their faces of what that must mean for the relationship between him and their rescuer. Eddie’s mind isn’t even there yet, too focused on Chris.

Eddie snatches Chris out of the woman’s arms, hugging him close to his chest as he chokes: “Oh my god, Chris.”

“Daddy,” Chris cries, clutching Eddie as tightly as he can, sobbing into his shoulder much like he’d done in the hospital, now already about four months ago.

He runs his fingers all over Chris’s body, feeling for injuries, relieved when he doesn’t find any broken ribs or other broken bones. He forces Chris’s face away from his shoulder, cupping his cheek as he feels his skull and checks his pupils. “What were you doing out here, mijo?”

“We were going to the pier to celebrate my good grade. I was sad because you weren’t going to be here and papi wanted to cheer me up,” Chris sniffles. “Then the water was gone.”

Suddenly his brain comes back online from where it had dropped off this plane of existence in the face of worrying about Chris. About his son. The description Marissa gave them of their rescuer comes back to him…

‘He’s tall, very tall, and white. Some of the debris must have hit him in the face, because he has a bruise on his eye. He’s blond.’

Buck.

Oh god, Buck.

Eddie maneuvers Chris onto his hip with practiced ease, numb hands fumbling for his phone as he unlocks it and goes to his gallery. Without Buck there, he takes even less photos than he normally would, so his recent pictures all still have Buck in them.

He clicks one blindly and turns the screen back to the other woman – he still hasn’t heard her name and he doesn’t care much either – as he desperately asks: “Is this- Is this him? Is this the man that pulled you out?”

“Y- Yeah, yeah, that’s him,” she stammers, slightly overwhelmed by his intensity.

No.

Just no.

A minute ago, Buck was far from this and at home. He was safe. Now he’s somewhere out here in this hellhole, probably alone, maybe even injured and definitely not back to full strength yet, no matter how far he’s come with his PT.

Buck was out here to cheer Chris up, because Eddie hasn’t been home. If he’d only gone home, then they would be there now. Safe. Now, he has a scared Chris in his arms and Buck is missing. He is missing. And Eddie might never get to see him again.

It’s suddenly a lot harder to breathe and his whole world falls apart around him. He is supposed to find a way to come home. He’s supposed to come home to Buck, he can’t be out here. He can’t be injured or worse. He hoped this disaster was a sign to come home, not a sign that he’s losing it all before he can even try to fix it.

Eddie has to find him. He has to find him right now. Bosko’s hypothetical from earlier is reality and Eddie knows now better than before that she was right. He will do anything to make sure Buck is okay. That he is found.

A hand on his shoulder startles him and he spins around to the source. It’s Bobby, giving him a concerned and sympathetic look, his own heartbreak and fear mirrored on the Captain’s face.

“It’s Buck,” he finally manages. “Buck is out there.”

“And we’ll find him,” Bobby assures him. “But you’re too close to this now, Eddie. We both know that. You’re compromised. Take Bosko to the VA hospital and help out there. You can’t be out on the field anymore either.”

~~

A/N:

TSUNAMI ARC! TSUNAMI ARC! I am so fucking thrilled to be here, I’ve been wanting to write an AU of that arc for so long now, so I’m gonna go hog wild! (Also place your bets now people, is Eddie gonna listen to Bobby)

[alexthebordercollie]

Going to bounce off of what you talked about with your thoughts regarding Stan's relationships and just say I totally know what you mean about shipping two characters together because it's funny!

Heck I ship Lazy Susan with both Stan and Ford because I just think the idea of her being with either of them to be extremely funny and cute lmaoo.

So sorry for the late reply (not been posting much for a while been sick and busy) but I actually have been playing around with Emma-Stan as a possible PapaFord ship ^3^

My Emma-may is mixed race and from a Ciphertologist family. She was too little when Billville was disbanded to remember it, but her family still practices behind closed doors. It was an incredibly toxic environment with very mentally unwell caretakers, and rumors that the Dixons were devil worshipers made her a social pariah. She befriended Fidds, who was the dweeby awkward baby of a family of five sons. Emma was his cool, scary friend who drove away the bullies and the two weirdos stuck together in a small town where neither of them were very popular.

She was Fiddleford's best friend, and as they got older, everyone just expected them to end up together. When Fiddleford went off to college, he promised to come back and marry her after getting his degree, which he did indeed do. Emma didn't know any other way at the time to get away from her family but to leave with Fidds. Their marriage grew increasingly rocky over the years due to Fidds being a closeted gay man (unbeknownst to Emma) and Emma being increasingly bored and frustrated by life as a housewife and mother. Emma-May is naturally hot-headed and brash and always has been. She's a loud strong strong-willed woman who doesn't fit well into other people's boxes. She's actually very clever in her own right and learned programming from Fiddleford. She got into making video games as a hobby. She simply never had access to the kind of educational opportunities Fiddleford got. I was going to make this a comic but I was having a hard time drawing this one for whatever reason so I decided to write a short fic instead I hope it still satisfies even though there are fewer pictures. -3-

That's your Ex-Wife?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Thanks for comin' to help out."

Stan picked up the twang from around the corner. Heading out the kitchen side door and back to the truck. Ford's neurotic string bean of a boyfriend had speed walked ahead of them on the way over a caught Emma-May before they did. She'd gone off to run an errand with their boy and Fidds had let the Pines brothers in to start bringing in boxes without her. It sounded like she was back. Certainly sounded like Stan expected Fiddleford's wife to sound.

"Oh no it's nothin' it's the least we could do." Fidds insisted as he pulled another box from the back of the truck.

Stan watched as the box jerked Fidds arms down. He struggled for a second to catch it and tried to support the weight with his back. Flashing a pained smile around the truck.

"Yo Fidds, ya need help with that?" Stan offered as he approached.

He registered the woman's voice before he saw her face.

"Oh look, if it ain't the home wrecker," she snarked in that southern drawl.

Stan stopped shy of taking the box from Fiddleford and looked past him.

Holy shit, that was Emma-May?

Stanley didn't know much about Fiddleford's ex-wife. He'd seen the two argue on the phone a few times. Caught her voice in passing once or twice. Their son Tate had come to stay with them a few times while his folks were working out the divorce.

Stan knew Emma-May was hot headed woman but nothing could have prepared him for just how hot she was.

A light-skinned black lady greeted him curtly with her hands on her hips. Caramel skin and a mess of chocolate freckles. Dame looked like dessert. She had on a low-neckline paisley blouse with free titties underneath like the best kind of feminist hippie. Not that Stan was a fan of either of those things but he could certainly be convinced of both if it meant he got a peak of nips through the thin orange fabric. Fuck man… He'd been expecting a traditional southern housewife but those daisy dukes were giving anything but.

Stan coughed and cleared his throat as he registered what she called him. Homewrecker.

"Oh hey," Stan cooed, brushing back his mullet before offering her five fingers. "You must have me confused for my brother toots," He corrected. Stan held out his hand and flashed his best smile. "Stanley Pines, the hot twin," he introduced playfully.

"Hey!" Ford interjected as he rounded the corner just in time to hear Stan's introduction.

Eh fuck em, he could take a joke. Not like he had anyone to impress. He was already raising to kids with his live in partner. His bachelor life was dead, he could stop trying now. As if he ever had.

Emma-May popped the gum in her mouth and looked down at Stan's hand for a moment before she took it with a playful smile. "I see that," She snarked playfully back. She had a firm grip and gave Stan's hand a good shake. "Dunno how I ever got ya'll two confused, my bad sug."

Stan couldn't help but beam. Straightening up his coat as he pulled back to rock leisurely on his heels. "No hard feelings doll, it's an honest mistake."

Fiddleford groaned and rolled his eyes. "Yes Stanley here moved in to help out with the twins," he explained.

"I recall," Emma-may assured him. Arms crossed as she looked Stan up and down. "Tate's mentioned ya, says yer fun."

"Glad someone around here appreciates me," Stan laughed and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "He's a good kid."

Ford leaned in around Stan's shoulder and pointed back towards the house. "The twins are in the kitchen by the way," he warns. "I assure you the dog kennel I have them in is both entirely necessary and completely safe."

Emma-May jerked back a moment. Stan couldn't see her eyes but he could make an educated guess. "Ya'll keep yer babies in a kennel?!" She snapped at Fidds.

Fiddleford shrunk back holding the box to his chest. "I promise it ain't what it sounds like-"

"Newt can climb walls and Nick will chew through anything weaker than aluminum," Ford clarified, emphasizing his point with a hand gesture.

Emma-may winced and looked between the two Pines brothers before looking back at Fiddleford slightly horrified.

Fiddleford chuckled awkwardly and shrugged. "Welcome to Gravity Falls."

Emma-may snatched up the box Fiddleford was struggling with and hoisted it over her shoulder without breaking a sweat. "I swear ya better not make me regret comin' here," she snapped.

"I sure hope not," Stan stressed. "Man already blew it once, can't let him scare you off before someone else gets a shot."

Emma-may looked back a little surprised. She cracked and laughed into her knuckles. A cute little pig snort of a laugh. "Are you volunteering over there sharp shooter?" she teased.

Stan shot finger guns back at her with a click of his tongue and a wink. Grinning ear to ear.

Emma-may laughed harder and threw her head back. She slapped a juicy thigh and took a second to collect herself. Fuck, that laugh, Stan could get used to that laugh.

"Ain't ya bold mother fucker-"

"I mean," Stan shrugged, leaning in playfully. "Go big or go home, might as well aim for the hottest mama in town."

Emma-may smirked back at him. "Well, good luck with that slick. Let me know how it works out fer ya."

Emma turned to head back inside and Stan certainly couldn't complain. He'd never be disappointed watching that fine ass leave. Holy Moses, those shorts! That denim was working overtime to contain that much ass.

A harsh throat clearing pulled Stan's attention away. He turned to see Fiddleford glaring at him red faced. The twiggy blonde scarecrow looked so puffed up he pop a blood vessel. "What the fuck was that!?" he hissed, waving franticly in the direction Emma-May had left.

Stan looked back towards the open front door then turned his attention back to Fiddleford. "What?"

"Did you seriously just hit on my ex-wife?!" Fiddleford bocked in exasperation.

"Did you seriously leave a dime like that for my dweeby brother?" Stan huffed indignantly. Crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm right here." Ford whined from behind Fiddleford.

"Can it Sixer, this ain't about you," Stan dismissed.

"Could ya go check on the kiddos Sugarbear?" Fiddleford cooed sweetly.

Ford rolled his eyes and turned back to the truck bed. Scooping up a couple boxes and heading back inside. Fiddleford watched him leave before turning on Stan again. Jabbing his chest with a boney finger. "You listen up and you listen good," he warned. "You keep yer greasy paws off Emma-May, we clear?"

Stan furrowed his brow and frown. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Stan shoved Fiddleford back. Man was ninety pounds soaking wet, Stan wasn't about to let this little weasel push him around. He didn't care if he was his brother's boyfriend.

"Where do you get off getting all possessive now?" Stan snapped back. "You're the one who cheated, you didn't want her then but as soon as someone else is interested you wanna act you own her?"

Fiddleford growled back at him before collecting himself. Pulling back to rub the faint scar on his temple. "Look, we go way back ya understand? She's my best friend."

"I thought Stanford was your best friend," Stan snarked back with giant air quotes.

Fiddleford glowered at him. "I know how ya treat women Stanley," he leaned in again. Practically nose to nose with Stan. "If you hurt her, god have mercy on my soul cause I'm goin' to hell," he threatened.

Stan laughed and pulled back. Slapping Fiddleford's shoulder. "Ah fuck! HA! For what? Crying at me? You gonna tickle me with those noodle arms?" Stan hugged his gut to contain his laughter and wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh man, go right ahead and do your worst Fiddlesticks I ain't scared," he grinned back at Fiddleford.

"I mean it Stanley," Fiddleford insisted.

Stan gave his shoulder a light jab and watched the other man wobble and rub his arm. Still twisting up that squishy baby face of his with the meanest look he could muster. Stan offered him a sincere smile and a hand extended. "Look you wanna play better man be my guest. If I fuck up you better put your money where your mouth is."

Fiddleford frown down at Stan's hand before hesitantly reaching for it with a raised eyebrow.

Stan took Fidds hand and pulled it in. "And if I make that southern bell ring you back off like a real gentleman, ya got that?"

Fiddleford's frown wobbled irritably before he spat out a reluctant, "Fine."

[bestedoesmeow]

☆ THIS MAN ☆

@jensonbutton & @yourusername

tw : age gap!

instagram au

-series of instagram posts from his and your account

yourusername

liked by jensonbutton, fernandoalo_oficial and 3,786 other people

tagged : jensonbutton

I told him he was the most handsome boy in the wedding 🙄

View comments

⤵ user45 : As you should look at that golden retriever face

⤵ user67 : Imagine showing up to a wedding with '' jenson button '' oh boy

⤵ user78 : Girl like you are living the dream life. HE IS THE MOMENT. LIKE THE DILFEST OF THE DILFS. I JUST CAN'T

⤵ user99 : Jenson is living the dream life lmao imagine dating y/n? I am gay for her🤤🤤

⤵ aussiegrit : Looking good button @jensonbutton ⤵ jensonbutton : Appreciate it brother👋 ⤵ user23 : THE WAVE LMAO Y/N YOU SHOULD TEACH HIM MORE ⤵ yourusername : We are getting there dw ;).

❤️ by 456 people

yourusername has added to their story

liked by

❤️danielricciardo

❤️user33

❤️user79

and 1.234 other people

jensonbutton replied

⤵

: What exactly is the daddy part of this sweetheart

: I was a teenager

: Maybe now I am but then no

yourusername:

⤵

:I don't know I'd have a crush on you if we were in the same hs

: You look okaaay maybe ?

: I am joking you definetly look fuckable

😪

jensonbutton:

: I am worried that you used to date with Shrek sweetheart

yourusername:

: No but I was dating boys so

jensonbutton :

: I am glad you like me sweetheart, I am getting old and its getting kinda worrisome

yourusername :

: There are millions of people calling you '' dilf '' out there, and they are right

jensonbutton

liked by aussiegrit and 123.556 other people

tagged : yourusername

Thanks for bringing the most joy to my life sweetheart, couldn't be happier to be by your side on your birthday. Happy birthday ❤️

View comments

⤵ user66 : WHEN GOD WHEN? WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN FOR REAL?

⤵ user45 : The most beautiful smile 😩

⤵ user57 : Happy birthday y/n!!!!

⤵ user90 : It used to bother me that they have almost 12 years apart, but now I feel happy for them, they are really made for each other 🙃🙃

⤵ user33 : If she is of age it is nobody's business :) And she is an adult with a will to make her own decisions so...

⤵ user02: I saw them yesterday celebrating her and they looked absolutely stunning...

⤵ user77 : She is beyond beautiful

⤵ user55 :

yourusername has added to their story

yourusername

liked by jensonbutton, y/f/u/n and 4.565 other people

Jenson Alexander Lyons Button and his uneasy ass couldn't just like somewhere to have breakfast in the whole Southern France. I was starving to death when he took these.

View comments

⤵ user66 : Lmao the power this girl holds, love you for that😮‍💨

⤵ user78 : UNEASY ASSS

⤵ user56 : Well he is a fucking Capricorn everything has to be just perfect

⤵ jensonbutton : Say it to my face the next time huh sweetie?

⤵ user67 : Enemies to lovers trophy 🤫🤫

jensonbutton has added to their story

jensonbutton

liked by yourusername and 345.567 other people

It was a nice weekend indeed!!

View comments

⤵ yourusername : Why aren't you looking at the camera and why are you so cute?

⤵ jensonbutton: The sun was above me I couldn't see sweetheart:)

⤵ user76: He is the real life '' I can't use instagram '' person lmao ⤵ user21 : '' Son, can you bring me my glasses? '' ⤵ user83 : '' Y/N what should I add as a caption? '' ⤵ user44 : '' Y/N how can I add this to my story as well?

[meirimerens]

Because you mentioned Daniil‘s mama, does she ever meet artemy? What does she think of him? Does she ever find out about him and daniil being together or does daniil even come out to her? <3

she's at the wedding❤️ not said in jest btw she is.

I've mentioned it a few times in my #dankovsky lore and/or #yeva nazarovna dankovskaya tags (latter one including images of yeva interacting with burakh. Need to remake them but they're here and real still) dankovsky has been out to his mother since he was 15 after he realized age 11. for a while he didn't say anything because at age 12 like who cares but later it became that he kinda needed to say something lest he gets asked over and over about a fiancée so he preferred to readjust his mother's priorities before it became annoying. she's taken it better than his father, for this stuff I'll send you to the tags mentioned above because rewriting that in full kinda tires me a bit so you can read it [here] or [here].

she loves her grandkids because she was all on his ass with "you can still adopt right 🥺" even as he hadn't gotten a companion in his entire life. she's particularly fond of murky because murky looks Just Like Him For Real and is sad that she dislikes bangles and jewelry because yeva had kept all her jewelry for a future wife of her son's, then when that became obvious that That'd Be A No Ma'am for a future adopted daughter of his.

But Before That she has to kinda Meet Burakh indeed. after coming back to the city after his Hell on Earth countryside trip, dankovsky starts visiting more often from a feeling of "damn [scratches head] like is kinda precious and I should hang out with my mom before she's gone" and it becomes more and more obvious to her he has someone because he's like. Brighter psychologically. Less like the annoying stuck-up he's been. Mentions needing to travel back to the steppe often with a fondness that's not Colleagues-Only Related. so she starts "so is there someone👀 there is someone riiiight👀" and eventually he admits it. she's so excited to meet the guy (his dad a bit less because while he had made peace with him being gay [cf lore tag] he didn't really make it with dankovsky Having A Companion). Eventually yeva manages to convince her son to convince burakh to visit. and he does. a bit awkward. she thinks her son has good taste. both parents are quite in awe at the guy their son managed to bag because they're quite a bit smaller than him. yeva thinks it's so fun because she can ask him to fetch things on the shelves but dankovsky senior A Bit Less until burakh asks about the beetles collection and they get to bond by senior Proudly Discussing his and his son's collection. she reads his palms and is like I See👀 A Long And Prosperous Marriage 👀 [they hadn't even discussed that before]. Eventually burakh invites the dankovskies to ToG where yeva, who's a rather modest orthodox christian woman, is Vaguely Struck by the herb brides [cf this thing 2021 art jumpscare] but she respects the tapestry of the cultures of the world so she eventually just goes "what strong and athletic women🙏 I used to dance when I was younger um NOT LIKE THIS PERSONALLY but I did. But my knee… you know" And indeed eventually they are at the wedding. Love wins.

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … February 3

Francis Douglas (R) with his brother Alfred

1867 – Francis Douglas, Viscount Drumlanrig (d.1894) was a Scottish nobleman and politician, the eldest son of the 9th Marquess of Queensberry.

He was educated at Harrow School and later served as a private secretary to the Liberal politician and Prime Minister Archibald Primrose, Lord Rosebery. Thanks to Rosebery's patronage, on 22 June 1893 he was raised to the Peerage of the United Kingdom as Baron Kelhead, of Kelhead in the County of Dumfries. This provided him with a seat in the House of Lords.

Drumlanrig's father served in Parliament from 1872 to 1880 as a representative peer, but in 1880 he refused, as an atheist, to take the religious oath of allegiance to the Queen. He was not allowed to take his seat and was never again chosen as representative peer by the Scottish nobles. His son's accession to Parliament as the 1st Baron Kelhead precipitated a bitter dispute between them and also between Queensberry and Lord Rosebery, who became Prime Minister in 1894.

In October 1894, eighteen months after his ennoblement, Drumlanrig died in what may have been a hunting accident or suicide. He was unmarried and his younger brother Lord Percy Douglas became heir to his father's titles.

It was speculated at the time, and evidence suggests that Drumlanrig may have had a homosexual relationship with Rosebery, and further, that Queensberry had threatened to expose the Prime Minister's supposed proclivities if his government did not vigorously prosecute Oscar Wilde in the affair stemming from Wilde's relationship with Francis Douglas's younger brother Lord Alfred Douglas. Rosebery was, by most accounts, happily married until the death of his wife in 1890, though gossip that Rosebery was homosexual or bisexual was indeed widespread. Queensberry believed that, as he phrased it to Lord Alfred in a letter, 'Snob Queers like Rosebery' had corrupted his sons, and held the Prime Minister indirectly responsible for Drumlanrig's death.

 Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas

1874 – Gertrude Stein was an American writer, poet and art collector who spent most of her life in France. (d.1946); Like the cubist paintings she knew so well, Gertrude Stein was multi-faceted, complicated and occasionally impenetrable. So much as been written about her it is difficult to know exactly what to make of this extraordinary woman, whose long and happy life with Alice B. Toklas she once summed up by writing,

"I love my love with a p because she is peculiar."

In her youth in Baltimore, Stein met Claribel Cone and Etta Cone, who held Saturday evening salons which she would later emulate in Paris. The Cones shared an appreciation for art and conversation about it, and modeled a domestic division of labor that Stein would replicate in her relationship with Alice B. Toklas.

In 1903, Stein moved to Paris, where she spent the rest of her life. From 1903 to 1914 she lived there with her brother Leo Stein, an art critic. It was during this period that she became well-known. Much of Gertrude Stein's fame derives from a private modern art gallery she assembled, from 1904 to 1913, with her brother. While living in Paris, Gertrude began writing for publication. Her earliest writings were mainly retellings of her college experiences. Her first critically acclaimed publication was Three Lives.

Stein met her life partner Alice B. Toklas on September 8, 1907, on Toklas' first day in Paris, at Sarah and Michael Stein's apartment. Soon they were traveling Europe together, and eventually living together. During the 1920s, the salon at 27 Rue de Fleurus, with walls covered by avant-garde paintings, attracted many of the great writers of the time, including Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, Thornton Wilder, and Sherwood Anderson. While she has been credited with inventing the term "Lost Generation" for some of these expatriate American writers, at least three versions of the story that led to the phrase are on record, two by Ernest Hemingway and one by Gertrude Stein.

Was she a genius, a fraud, a bitch, a saint, over-rated, under-rated or a little of each? What she was more than anything else was honest, scrupulously so, perhaps the most honest writer of her time. Her early fiction, Q.E.D. and Three Lives, offers us the first realistic portrait of Lesbianism in the English language that is not veiled in misty metaphor or drowned in sickly sentiment. The very act of creating these books required an heroic courage that is inconceivable today. What she risked in breaking new ground, in writing about a subject scarcely known, no less understood, was the creation of works destined to cause shock and be called "ugly." As she later wrote in her inimitable style, "...When you make a thing, it is so complicated making it that it is bound to be ugly, but those that do it after you they don't have to worry about making it and they can make it pretty, and so everyone can like it when the others make it."

Other books include Tender Buttons and The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas. Her essay "Miss Furr and Miss Skeene" is one of the first homosexual revelation stories to be published. The work evinces Stein's growing involvement with a homosexual community, though it is based on lesbian partners Maud Hunt Squire and Ethel Mars. The work contains the word "gay" over one hundred times, perhaps the first published use of the word "gay" in reference to same-sex relationships and those who have them, and, thus, uninformed readers missed the lesbian content.

Gertrude Stein was a first. We keep her memory with a g. Because she was so gay.

1927 – Kenneth Anger, American Underground Filmmaker, born (d.2023); One of America's first openly Gay filmmakers, and certainly the first whose work addressed homosexuality in an undisguised, self-implicating manner, Kenneth Anger occupies an important place in the history of experimental filmmaking. His role in rendering Gay culture visible within American cinema, commercial or otherwise, is impossible to overestimate.

In 1947, Anger gained instant notoriety with Fireworks, a homoerotic nightmare/reverie in which a muscle-bound sailor enjoys posing for the protagonist's (Anger's) delectation, but then, with four others, bashes the youth in a public restroom. Despite the horrific scenario, the ending suggests redemption with milky fluid spattering Anger's body, a sympathetic sailor's crotch spewing white sparks from a Roman candle, and Anger resurrected, wearing a flaming Christmas tree headdress.

Some early Anger works never made it to the controversial screening stage because negatives were confiscated and destroyed by self-policing labs to which he had sent film for processing. Conversely, other viewers were overly appreciative of Anger's eroticism, pirating and showing his films in nightclubs during an era when Gay porn was largely unavailable.

Similarly, the pervasiveness of iconic Gay imagery in Anger's work, such as the leather-clad bikers of Scorpio Rising (1963), often caused his films to be grossly oversimplified as depictions of homosexual "pathology," rather than understood as critiques of American mass culture, particularly as it was propagated by Hollywood movies and the rock-and-roll music that Anger used for his soundtracks in pioneering ways, critically anticipating the music-video genre.

In unfinished film projects such as Puce Moment (1949), with its close-up sequence of women's gowns, and Kustom Kar Kommandos (1965), in which a youth caresses a hot-rod with a powder puff, Anger inventories American culture's most fetishized objects, evoking a profoundly camp sensibility. Elsewhere, in Eaux d'artifice (1953), whatever Gay content does exist—Anger cites Ronald Firbank's novel Valmouth as inspiration and has likened the fountain imagery to sexual water-sports—is subordinate to the film's elegant visual abstractions.

Although Fireworks and Scorpio Rising had earned him a reputation as an underground Gay filmmaker, through the late 1960s and 1970s, Anger's films expressed less specifically Gay content. His longtime fascination with the writings of occultist Aleister Crowley, which had imparted a dark, ritualistic atmosphere to even his earliest films, propelled works such as Invocation of My Demon Brother (1969) and Lucifer Rising (1973). Collaborative projects with Mick Jagger and Led Zeppelin's Jimmy Page recalled Anger's earlier professional engagements with Jean Cocteau, Anaïs Nin, and other iconoclasts, but the results fell short of Anger's expectations and, indeed, abilities.

Through the 1980s, Anger became known to a broader public through the film adaptation of his lurid book Hollywood Babylon (1958), which chronicled scandals of the film industry. Hollywood Babylon is, in essence, a counter-accusation of indecency and intemperance against America's self-righteous film establishment, an institution that at mid-century was so fearful of scandal that only underground filmmakers risked depicting overtly sexual content and exploring radical cinematic forms.

1938 – Emile Griffith (d.2013) was a former boxer who was the first fighter from the U.S. Virgin Islands ever to become a world champion. He is perhaps best known for his controversial third fight with Benny Paret in 1962 for the welterweight world championship. Griffith later won the world middleweight title and claimed an early version of the junior middleweight world championship, a claim that has not been universally recognized although some consider Griffith a three-division champion fighter.

Griffith as a youth never dreamed of becoming a boxer and was discovered by accident. As a teen he was working at a hat factory on a steamy day when his boss the factory owner agreed to Griffith's request to work shirtless. When the owner, a former amateur boxer, noticed his frame he took Griffith to trainer Gil Clancy's gym. Griffith won the 1958 New York Golden Gloves 147 lb Open Championship. He turned professional in 1958.

The infamous Emile Griffith/Benny Paret fight, which was nationally televised by ABC, took place on March 24, 1962 at Madison Square Garden. In the sixth round Paret nearly knocked out Griffith with a multi punch combination but Griffith was saved by the bell. After the round his trainer Gil Clancy got into his face and told him "when you go inside I want you to keep punching until Paret holds you or the referee breaks you! But you keep punching until he does that!". In round 12 Griffith knocked Paret unconscious yet Paret stood, still propped up against the ropes while Griffith struck Paret repeatedly over the next several seconds before referee Ruby Goldstein stopped the fight. Paret never regained consciousness, and he died ten days later.

Sports Illustrated reported in its April 18, 2005, edition that Griffith's rage may have been fueled by an anti-gay slur directed at him by Paret during the weigh-in. Paret called his opponent a maricón, the Spanish equivalent of "faggot"; Griffith nearly went after him on the spot and had to be restrained. The media at the time either ignored the slur or used euphemisms such as "anti-man". The 2005 article pointed out that it would have been career suicide for an athlete or any other celebrity during the 1960s to admit that he was gay.

Griffith reportedly felt great guilt over Paret's death, and suffered nightmares about Paret for 40 years.

After retiring from boxing, Griffith worked as a corrections officer at the Secaucus, New Jersey Juvenile Detention Facility.

In 1992, Griffith was viciously beaten and almost killed on a New York City street, after leaving a gay bar near the Port Authority Bus Terminal. He was in the hospital for four months after the assault. It was not clear whether the violence was motivated by hatred of gays.

Griffith was quoted in Sports Illustrated as saying "I like men and women both. But I don't like that word: homosexual, gay or faggot. I don't know what I am. I love men and women the same, but if you ask me which is better... I like women."

Griffith died July 23, 2013, at a care facility in Hempstead, New York. In his final years, he required full-time care and suffered from dementia pugilistica. His adopted son, Luis Rodrigo Griffith, was his primary caregiver

1950 – Ron Woodroof (d.1992) was an American who created what would become known as the Dallas Buyers Club in March 1988. Contracting the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) in the 1980s, he created the group as part of his efforts to find and distribute drugs to treat HIV at a time when the disease was poorly understood.

He sued the United States Food and Drug Administration (FDA) over a ban on a drug he was using.

Woodroof was born in Dallas, Texas. His first marriage was to Mary Etta Pybus on June 28, 1969, in Dallas; and they had a daughter born in 1970. They divorced in 1972. On May 6, 1972, he married Rory S. Flynn in Dallas. They divorced in 1973. He then married Brenda Shari Robin on October, 1982, in Lubbock. They divorced on March 4, 1986, after he was diagnosed with HIV.

He had a mercurial personality. One reporter writes that "Woodroof took guns to his doctor’s office, prompting Dr. Steven Pounders to 'fire him as a patient.'" Woodroof later sent the doctor roses, and the doctor took him back.

Some of his friends told reporters he was gay or bisexual. Accounts differ on whether he made homophobic comments. Reporter and screenwriter Craig Borten has said Woodroof was "as racist and homophobic as they come" while friends reportedly claim the opposite.

Seven years following his diagnosis of HIV, Ron Woodroof died on September 12, 1992 from pneumonia brought on by AIDS. Woodroof's final years became the basis of the 2013 film Dallas Buyers Club. He was portrayed in the film by Matthew McConaughey, who was critically acclaimed for his performance and won many awards, including the Academy Award for Best Actor.

1956 – Nathan Lane, (né Joseph Lane) is an American actor of stage and screen. He is best known for his roles as Mendy in The Lisbon Traviata, Albert in The Birdcage, Max Bialystock in the musical The Producers, Ernie Smuntz in MouseHunt, Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls, Pseudolus in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, and his voice work in The Lion King and Stuart Little. In 2006, he received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and in 2008, he was inducted into the American Theatre Hall of Fame.

When he was 21 and told his mother he was Gay, her reply was: "I'd rather you were dead." Lane shot back: "I knew you'd understand".

His professional association with his close friend the playwright Terrence McNally includes roles in Lips Together, Teeth Apart, The Lisbon Traviata, Bad Habits, Love! Valor! Compassion!, and Dedication.

Lane, who came out publicly after the death of Matthew Shepard, jokingly describes himself as "one of those old-fashioned homosexuals, not one of the newfangled ones who are born joining parades." When he was asked once by a reporter whether he was Gay, rather than providing a blunt yes-or-no answer, he famously declared, "I'm 40, single and work a lot in the musical theater. You do the math."

He has been a long-time board member of and fundraiser for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids, and he has been honored by The Human Rights Campaign, GLAAD, and The Trevor Project for his work in the Gay community. Lane resides in New York City with his long-time partner, producer Devlin Elliott. Nathan and Devlin married in November 2015.

1969 – Paul Babeu is the elected sheriff of Pinal County in the U.S. state of Arizona. First voted into office in 2008 by defeating the Democratic incumbent, Babeu became the first Republican Sheriff elected in the history of Pinal County. He has received national media attention for speaking out against illegal immigration, the unsecured U.S. border with Mexico, and Operation Fast and Furious gun smuggling facilitated by the United States Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.

In October 2011, Babeu announced the formation of an exploratory committee to run for U.S. Congress, but later decided against running. Babeu won reelection to a second term as sheriff on November 6, 2012.

In February 2012, Babeu was accused of threats of deportation by a Mexican man who described himself as a former boyfriend of Babeu. A spokesman for Babeu denied the allegation and described them as "sensationalist". The spokesman confirmed that Babeu would continue to run for U.S. Congress.

The day after the story broke, Babeu, then a surrogate for Mitt Romney's campaign, officially acknowledged his sexuality but denied the charges. Babeu claimed his sexual orientation was the only factual statement from the allegations. Later, in May, he told openly gay journalist Don Lemon he wants to provide a bridge between the GOP and LGBT communities. He later won reelection as Sheriff of Maricopa County Pinal County by a large margin.

1976 – Daniel Allen Cox is a Canadian author and screenwriter. Shuck, his debut novel about a New York City hustler, was a Lambda Literary Award and a ReLit Award finalist

Cox is a former Jehovah's Witness and model/actor in gay pornography. From 2008 to 2011, he wrote the column "Fingerprinted" for Capital Xtra! in Ottawa, Ontario. He is openly gay.

Krakow Melt, the second novel by Cox, about Polish pyromaniacs who fight homophobia, was released in 2010 and was excerpted in the US-based national gay and lesbian newsmagazine The Advocate. In 2011, Istanbul-based publisher Altikirkbes acquired Turkish-language rights to the novel for an underground literature imprint featuring Lydia Lunch. The novel was nominated for the ReLit Award, the Lambda Literary Award and the Ferro-Grumley Award for LGBT Fiction. Cox's third novel, Basement of Wolves, was released in 2012.

In a cover interview for Xtra!, the author revealed a collaboration with Bruce LaBruce on the screenplay for the director's film, Gerontophilia. Cox's script One Shut Night was named one of five finalists in the 2013 NYC PictureStart Film Festival short screenplay contest, with the announcement of a stage reading directed by Peter Kelley.

Tattoo This Madness In, his novella about LGBT Jehovah’s Witnesses who use Smurf tattoos to rebel against their faith, was nominated for a 2007 Expozine Alternative Press Award.

2014 – Don Franco (b.1923), a lifelong gay activist, died on this date. He was 90.

At approximately 1:30am on Saturday, Dec 9, 1978, Toronto police stormed the Barracks, a small bathhouse focusing on BDSM. They tore the place apart and arrested 26 men, including Franco. In response, Franco joined the newly formed Right to Privacy Committee and helped organize a series of public demonstrations, which resulted in the police getting fewer guilty pleas than they would have liked.  But that wasn’t the end of it. A police sergeant then took it upon himself to call various Toronto schools and give them the names of the six school teachers arrested in relation to the Barracks raid, including Franco’s. Franco enlisted the help of minister Brent Hawkes, who called for the sergeant to be disciplined. The teachers’ union also stood by Franco and the Toronto Board of Education chairperson, Fiona Nelson, issued a statement in support of Franco.

Still that wasn’t the end of it. Franco had a makeshift dungeon off the bedroom of his home and regularly advertised for partners in The Body Politic. A policeman, posing as a potential partner, responded to his ad, came over and arrested Franco during an initial conversation. Six more officers then burst in and confiscated several garbage bags full of Franco’s belongings. In a possible attempt to target Franco, they were trying to stretch the law concerning “common bawdyhouses” to include his apartment.

Franco was close to retirement and worried that a conviction might lead to losing his pension. He didn’t back down, and dozens of hearings later he was acquitted of the charge. He retired with full pension. His was an important early victory in the struggle for gay rights.

In a time when the fight for rights was savage, Franco was involved with just about every protest, group or movement. He was connected to varying degrees with AIDS Action Now, the Ontario Coalition for Gay Rights, the Campaign for Equal Families and the NDP, just to name a few. He got little credit for the work that he did and didn’t profit from his good deeds, but he is one of a select group of people who were involved in almost the entire history of the fight for gay rights in Canada.

His strength and passion seem to have pervaded other aspects of his life as well. He taught in high schools for approximately 40 years and was one of those rare teachers whose students, even years later, would come back to visit and thank for his contribution to their lives.