#today there's the gay pride in my town

[syntechnoid]

God Bless Queers in the South !

God Bless self expression in the face of bigotry !

God Bless Southern Queer Solidarity!!!

[fatherfigureneeded]

imo the fact that there's a hozier concert during pride month, this month, on my birthday, and i can't go, is kind of fucked up

[dorkicon]

bitching abt homophobia n shit at my job in the tags o7 happy pride

[darkacademiaarchivist]

theres something special about small town pride events that have no corporate sponsorship beyond help from small local businesses, organized by young people because a lot of older queer people moved away but the young queers are fighting for their voice to be heard and for people to finally do something about all the bullying and harassment people are experiencing. I don't blame people for moving away but I'm glad that even those who did come back to say the things they wish people would have said when they were younger. Because no one deserves to feel alone and isolated and everyone deserves a place to belong.

[ghosts-of-love]

🙃

[holographicbutch]

God help me resist the urge to flirt

[blunderpuff]

If you can, also fill out comment cards! It’s one thing to tell a person at a desk “i love ur pride stuff”, but it’s another thing for the manager to be able to HOLD IN THEIR HANDS physical proof of queer support!!!!!!!!!!!!! they can take it to the board and say “here’s proof that people DO want us to support queer viewpoints” so stop withholding funding you rightwing cucks

Hey, this pride month (or literally any time of year), you wanna know something fairly easy and great you can do?

Contact your local library (or comment on their social media) positively for any pride/LGBTQIA+/queer-related displays or events they have going on.

Seriously.

What I’m seeing and hearing from the (mostly US-based) library workers in my groups and social circles is that the anti-queer (anti-gay, anti-trans, anti-drag queen story time, etc.) comments and complaints that have ramped up in the past year aren’t going away. Even library workers with supportive coworkers/bosses/boards are steeling themselves to deal with an avalanche of garbage, or are second-guessing their displays and events because the amount of vitriol can wear a person down so much. And the ones without supportive people or work environments? It’s worse.

Give the library something else: give them both the ammo (by being one of the numbers they can count worth the positive group) if they need to show their community isn’t wholly negative. Give them the compliment of knowing that their work got appreciated.

A comment like “I love this” or “Wow, that looks great!”

An email about how much you’re excited about X event

A call saying you wanted to let them know you appreciate this thing

Tagging them if you share a picture or positive comment on social media

“Cool shirt/pins/etc!” (Because people are also bring harassed about personally being queer, even if it’s not a library display)

Literally anything that would be positive for them to receive

[artificial-transmutations]

Friday Friendship

Hey there! This one is kind of a spiritual successor to Calling the Plumber - and as such, it is one of the rare gay to straight stories of mine. While I do try to keep it friendly and without any homophobia or hate, feel free not read the story if you don't like g2s!

It was hard to overlook Montgomery and Archibald. Of course, that was always the case. But here, on the dirty construction site of their new home, the expensive silk suits of the couple stood out even more than elsewhere. Yes, the two of them were together - and they made sure everybody knew it. Not only were the two gentlemen standing in a tight hug whenever possible, but their flamboyant and colorful clothing left little doubt about their sexuality.

They were those kind of gays that conservatives were afraid of. Both were old enough to have been alive during the stonewall riots, although only Montgomery was actually there as a teenager. Still, the aged couple embodied everything the gay community prided itself on having achieved during the last decades.

Their house, too, would be a statement. The mansion was the largest construction in the area, and the most expensive one. It was going to be built on a large hill, overlooking the town, and its style was... extravagant. The house was to be built in a modern architectural style, but the two men had insisted that the walls would be entirely covered in rainbow colors, although that was still in the future by now. Surrounding the mansion would be a magnificent garden, a park even.

"My dear, are you satisfied with the construction?" Archibald asked his husband in his lime green suit. Montgomery had dyed his hair in an orange-pink tone today and wore a purple tie to his green suit. It was hardly the first building site he visited, since he had made a fortune in real estate.

Archibald, on the other hand, was a bit more conservatively dressed. His suit was a more subdued shade of beige, although his tie was of a bright sky blue color. He usually didn't dye his hair, and today was no exception: He wore the gray with pride, although he spent a fortune on hair and skin care products. He, too, had a respectable job as a top manager in a logistics company.

"Well, darling, I'm not sure yet." Montgomery replied. "I want it to look great, and the work has been good so far. But frankly, it feels that the workers motivation is somewhat underwhelming."

"I think I know what you mean, my dear." Archibald commented as they walked through the empty shell. "It is barely three in the afternoon on a Friday, and there isn't anyone around anymore. The workers must be out partying already. I can't fault them for that, but it is rather annoying, isn't it?"

"Indeed. It would have been nice if they were a little less lazy, though. The garden is behind schedule, and I believe the electrics are going to be delayed by another month."

"That is quite unfortunate."

Montgomery nodded and they walked a bit in silence. It was true. There was still a lot to do, and it looked like the workers left early for the weekend.

Finally, Archibald sighed.

"I guess I could take a look at the progress the electricians are making. I do know a bit or two about this. Maybe then we can talk to the foreman about their work. It's a pity that we cannot supervise every little thing here, but our jobs demand a lot of our time. If only we had a bit more hands-on control."

"My, what a fabulous idea! I will take a stroll through the garden then, to get a better picture there."

The husbands kissed each other on the lips as they split up and Archibald opened the fuse box. He had indeed done a bit of electrical maintenance in his prime, so he knew that what he saw in the box was nothing less than a mess. He sighed and was about to close the box again, but hesitated. No, he couldn't leave the mess like that. He would just tidy things up a bit, to show those inexperienced workers how it was done.

Carefully, he began to work on the wires, but before long, he felt uncomfortable. The fuse box was located in the bright afternoon sun, and it was just positively hot here. Still, not wanting to leave his work, he slipped out of his jacket and hung it over a nearby wall. He didn't notice that the piece of clothing disappeared once he turned away, nor did he notice that his hands became nimbler as he rearranged the wires.

Montgomery on the other hand found the garden construction even less advanced than he had hoped. Even worse, someone had left a few plants out in the heat. They would surely be dead by the time the construction continued on Monday. Montgomery couldn't let that happen. This garden would be beautiful, and no plant would die under his watch.

He carefully carried the plants to the place they were supposed to be. Of course, he knew - he had planned the park all by himself, so he knew where everything was supposed to go. As he arrived at the shady place, he understood why the plants hadn't been placed yet. The ground was wet and muddy, and there weren't any holes yet. He would need to talk to the foreman about that, but the man was surely already in the weekend as well. There was, however, a shovel nearby. Now, aside from ceremonial groundbreaking, Montgomery had never held a shovel. It wasn't that he didn't understand the concept, but he was just not the type for physical labor.

Well. He looked over his shoulder to his husband, who was apparently still busy looking at the fuse box. It seems like he had some time on his hands, so he might as well. Grimacing, he grabbed the shovel and carefully stepped on the soil, trying not to ruin his expensive shoes or pants. That worked well, for about two steps. But as soon as he tried to break the ground with the shovel, a big clump of wet soil splattered on his lime green silk pants.

Montgomery frowned. Well, that suit was ruined anyway. No reason to stop there. Determined, he pulled the shirt out of his pants and opened his vest. He wasn't going to ruin his custom tailored suit for no reason.

Meanwhile, Archie was getting into his work even more. From time to time, he had to wipe his brow, though, as he was sweating like an animal. His dress shirt was stained with multiple sweat stains already and didn't really *look* like a dress shirt anymore, but more casual. The same could be said for the rest of Archie as well. A certain youth had returned to his face, as he was concentrated on his work. This way, he didn't notice when his hairstyle dissolved into an unkempt mess or when a bit of stubble grew in on his chin. His shirt clung to his body now, drenched in sweat. It had long ceased to be a dress shirt though but had become a plain - although rather filthy - beige t-shirt. His tie was nowhere to be seen.

Due to the wetness, the shirt didn't leave much to imagination regarding his body. Not just his face had rejuvenated, no, his entire body had. He was leaner and his muscles firmer now. Out of the V-neck of his sweaty shirt poked a few golden hairs, and before long, his main hair had turned into a Nordic blonde, as well.

Meanwhile, Monty was digging like crazy. He had to get those plants in the ground, or the foreman would... Wait, what was he thinking?

He stopped for a moment, to scratch his head. Thinking was not his strong point, and Monty knew that. But he had other qualities, that made up for that. When he grabbed the shovel again, to keep digging, he heard a ripping sound that made him stop again. The shoulder of his shirt had ripped. His boss was going to kill him! Although, it appeared somewhat strange to him that he was wearing such a colorful and impractical shirt. Perhaps there weren't any other shirts left?

He looked around and saw only one of the electricians still on the site. He knew the guy, he was friendly enough. He surely wouldn't mind if Monty went shirtless for a bit. With an effort not to damage the clothing even more, he peeled out of the garment. He was only half successful with that, and a few more rips sounded before he had finished taking it off.

Monty looked down at his muscular and hairy torso. The cold air was good, and he wasn't afraid to get dirty.

With every movement of the shovel, his arm muscles tightened, and his frame filled out more. A short beard sprouted on his chin, and his now full earthy brown hair shortened to a more practical cut. It wasn't like he had money for an expensive hairdresser, after all.

Finally, he had the holes ready and wiped his hands on his sturdy pair of work pants. Now, he only had to put the plants in. Despite his impressive physique, Manny was always very careful with the flowers, and he made sure that none of the roots got damaged or that he didn't break the stem.

He looked at his work. Good, that would look great, once the plants grew. Someday, he would have a garden of his own, and a house like that. And a beautiful wife and two, no, three children. But that was still a long way to go, with his poor pay.

Someone behind him cursed and Manny looked back to the electrician.

Chad was still sweating like crazy as he worked the wires. His mates had all gone to the clubs by now and he was stuck here and had to fix the mess he had created. That was only fair, but he wished the foreman wouldn't have noticed until Monday. He had to hurry up, though. He didn't want to spend his Friday night on the site, after all. Perhaps he would even get lucky and find a guy... No, what was he thinking? Working on these fruits' house had made him all confused. No, perhaps he would find a busty bombshell to take home tonight. Chad felt his cock growing hard at the thought, creating an obvious bulge in his work pants. Great, more distraction.

Chad tried to readjust himself, just in time as he sensed the big burly gardener approach. He knew the guy loosely but had forgotten his name already - if he even had known it at all.

"Hey, everything alright with them wires?" the low voice of the brute asked in a friendly tone.

"Yeah, I just need to finish up here... Should be done aaaaany minute now..."

Manny watched Chad connect the last wires. Poor guy. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat, and he looked like he was really hot and stressed out.

"Cool. It's no fun working late, and on a Friday. Hey, do you want to hit a bar after that? I could go for a cold one."

Chad looked over his shoulder at the bear of a man. Was that guy hitting on him? Na, his face only showed dumb innocence.

He shrugged. "Sure, why not, eh..."

"Name's Manny." Manny said.

"Great. Manny." Chad said and closed the now somewhat better looking fuse box before wiping away his sweat once more.

"I'm Chad."

Manny and Chad left the building site together this Friday afternoon. Neither of them knew that they were going to become best friends over this and many more beers. Manny turned out to be a great wingman for Chad, and Chad even ended up as Manny's best man during his wedding and godfather for his first child. Sometimes the closest friendships are forged in the Friday afternoon sun of a construction site.

[hard--headed--woman]

Sooo you're used to it by now, here's my 4th special pride post, and today we're going to talk about

Marguerite Radclyffe-Hall !

Marguerite was born in 1880 and died in 1943. She was a British poet and writer, author of "The Well of Loneliness", a revolutionary and very important novel in lesbian literature. She never tried to hide her homosexuality.

Neglected by her parents as a child, she studied at King's College London, then in Germany. She reached adulthood without a vocation, and spent a big part of her twenties in a series of relationships with women who later left her to marry.

In 1907, at the spa town of Bad Homburg in Germany, Marguerite met Mabel Batten, a lieder singer nicknamed Ladye, and the two fell in love. Batten was 51 at the time, with a husband, grown-up daughter and grandchildren. Hall was 27.

The two move in together when Mabel's husband dies. At the time, Marguerite was known for her "masculine" appearance and constant wearing of "masculine" clothes; Mabel Batten nicknamed her "John", a nickname she kept all her life.

In 1915, Radclyffe-Hall fell in love with Una Troubridge, a cousin of Mabel's whom she had known for 10 years. Battel died the following year, and in 1917, the two women moved in together. The two lived together until Hall's death, despite Hall's many affairs (that Troubridge painfully tolerated).

She has written eight novels and several poems.

Her first novel, "The Unit lamp", (1924) tells the story of a young girl who dreams of moving into a London apartment with her friend Elizabeth (a so-called "Boston marriage") and studying to become a doctor, but feels trapped by her emotionally-dependent, manipulative mother.

The novel's length and complexity made it difficult to sell, so Marguerite chose a lighter theme for her next novel, a social comedy : "The Forge". The book was quite successful this time.

Her next two novels were a great success, especially "Adam's Breed" (1926), which won the Prix Femina and the James Tait Black Award, something that had only been achieved once before.

But her best-known novel is "The Well of Loneliness". Published in 1928, it tells the story of a butch lesbian, from her childhood in England to her stay in Paris, where she becomes a famous writer. The novel was the subject of an obscenity trial in the UK (despite not being sexually explicit), resulting in the destruction of all copies. The USA authorized its publication after a long, long legal battle. Considered a classic, an extremely important work of lesbian literature, "The Well of Loneliness" was 7th on Publishing Triangle's 1999 list of the best gay novels.

In 1930, Hall won the gold medal of the Eichelbergher Humane Award. She was a member of the PEN club, the Council of the Society for Psychical and a member of the Zoological Society of London.

She died of colon cancer in 1943, aged 63. Her impact on literature, and lesbian literature in particular, remains significant to this day.

You can find the list of her novels (and more details about her life) here !

And some of her poems here :

Hope you enjoyed, and see you tomorrow for the 5th post!

[wishmaster]

Hey wishy! I’ve been bullied my hole life for being an out and proud gay guy. I’m as femme as they come, singing showtunes and prancing my way through life. I was wondering though. I’ve always thought about how the other, straighter half live. So, like could you turn me into an obnoxious straight dude. Whose whole personality is about be anti woke and straight?

straighter half

Barely out of high school now you ooze douche bag jock. Your ripped body every girl's dream. Though spending the summer at the homestead in the south wasn't your ideal at least you get one last hurrah with all the pussy you missed out on before graduation.

You reek from the chores you did today, you decide to go to the gym keep the stench alive. Hey Billy Ray, one of your ex girls said as you left you ignore her looking to trade her in for a better piece of ass in the big city. She's still pissed you broke it off and decides tp pants you, putting your bare ass on display, reveal a pride flag tattooed on your ass thanks to yours truly. Suddenly you're furious, ain't having no god damn woke faggot shit on me and in your new dumbass way yo look for the stupidest ways to get it off.

You grab your gun hellbent to find out who put that there.

You spit your chewing Tobacco and hop in your truck, heading out to raise hell while your girl shames you on the socials, by the time you make it into town, you're a disgrace for having that filth on your body

You go as far as fucking a girl in front of your buddies just to prove you ain't no fag, but you've been marked. It's too late, the life you lived was over ruined my some dumb ass tattoo. that night you end it all feeling the shame you brought on your family even though that wasn't who you were.

When you awoke, you found you were your old bubbly self, the memories embedded in your mind of the antiwoke straight dick still haunted your mind as you head outside, spitting tobacco from you mouth as your cute hillbilly boyfriends came in from tending to your family farm. You're so happy you grew up in an accepting family that don't care if you're a fag or not.

[livingdeadmlm]

Low honor Arthur Morgan redemption with a Preist 4/31

Pronouns: reader is referred to as a man

Physical Sex: AMAB

How far are things going?: not full sex but some slight head and dirty talk

Warnings: bit of shame, priest reader didn’t think gay people were being fr, a bit of corruption kink, talks of previous parts Arthur has had, lewd acts in an empty church

Outline: Arthur has had a change of heart recently, but once he sits in the confessional booth with you late at night he can’t help old habits as he teases you, and not knowing better you internalize it.

What inspired me to write how I did: the crappy presort romance book I got lol

Other: hopefully I will make this a few parts! 3446 words 😭 this is very different from my usual writing as I wanted it to be more detailed and flow better let me know what you think!

They spoke of constant temptations, even hesitating to take the vow as they could not give up the sins of the flesh. You tried to understand the strain and comfort of your brothers and explain just how easy it was for you, but that was always met with them stating you were much more blessed than them and, therefore, could not understand their struggles.

It pained you to hear, but over the last decade, it made you learn how to comfort other men and women with their desires and maintain themselves for marriage. Giving tips and tricks, you were never truly sure worked but heard from others how much they did. Besides your unsureness of how well those tips worked, many men and women found comfort in you. While confessional booths were all about privacy and anonymity, many of the women you advised claimed to be able to tell it was you due to the ‘energy’ that surrounded you.

Once you stepped into the booth, one person after another stepped into the warm space and opened up about what they felt ashamed of. While you kept privacy, you did remember the voices you were hearing, and today was a completely new one. This voice was gruff; it must belong to an older man much like yourself.

A new voice, as well as being an older man, made your heart swell. You believed it was never too late to turn to God and find comfort in religion. With how stubborn the men in town were, it made you happy to see one come in and swallow their pride.

"Mother Superior sent me here; she said you could 'lend me an ear' on what's happening." A smile graced your face as you fondly thought of Mother Superior. She was a great woman, especially for the work she did and her enjoyment of it.

"Well, good Sir, what has been happening you wish to speak about?" a low sigh came from next to you as the man began to explain a recent change of heart he was experiencing. He opened up more and more as the time ticked by. About harming people at the start it was those who had been awful he noticed the bar for awful things was getting lower and lower causing him to harm people who hadn’t done anything wrong. What he needed most at this moment was not advice but someone to hear him, and that's what you wanted to provide. His explanations of almost everything he's been going through and what he put others through, if they were not scary and authentic, you'd commend him for being a fantastic storyteller.

He reached a point where he would hesitate more and more when telling you things.

"Mister, you don't have to tell me everything in one session, right? You can always return on a new day or even when I'm open later at night! Sometimes, people have things on their minds before bed that stop them from sleeping." Your voice was soft, not to push the man away but to let him know he had space to get comfortable. As you sat in the confessional, the tension hung thick in the air, almost palpable. Your heart raced, grappling with the weight of the man's confession. His voice's unspoken truths and struggle lingered, creating an electric atmosphere that made the booth feel smaller like without the wood separating you too you would be intertwined.

Though you encouraged him to leave and take his time when opening so much you found yourself drawn to the warmth of his presence, a magnetic pull that ignited an unfamiliar spark within you. His hesitant gaze and the helplessness etched on his face were something you couldn't see or know was happening. Still, if you could, it would stir something profound in your chest, an unexpected desire to comfort him beyond the constraints of your roles. It made you crave to reach out, to reassure him that he was seen and understood. The thought of simply offering a hand, of shattering the barriers between you, felt equally exhilarating and terrifying.

"It's not that, Father (Name). I just have a lot of history with women and even men. I'm not sure you're too keen on hearin' it." Had the booth not had a screen, you would have been a bit embarrassed for him to see you so red.

"Uh, I am not sure what you mean by history. Do you mean violent? We've spoken of that so far. I understand that-"

"No, Father (Name), you've never heard of men bedding up with other men?" Your stomach jumped. You had heard of the verse but have yet to consider it something people did. It's a struggle some men could have, and you never put much more thought behind it.

"I am aware of it on a surface level, but I can help you, as I have many other women and men struggling with adultery." A grunt could be heard on the other side of the confessional booth, and the man sighed, "Okay then, How about this, Father (Name)," there was rustling of the man standing up. "I'll be back about 11:30 to discuss this with you; the things I've done shouldn't be spoken about in the daylight." You craved to reach out and reassure him that he was seen and understood, yet the boundaries loomed large. He bid you bye as the door opened and shut, letting in a tiny sliver of sun.

His impending return felt like a double-edged sword. You wanted to be there for him, to help him navigate his shadows. Still, crossing into more profound, more complicated territory made you uneasy. Questions swirled in your mind—were you genuinely able to help him? Would your inexperience be what holds you back for good this time? You sat in the booth, an odd, uncomfortable feeling in your stomach as you realized you had to prepare for tonight's meeting. While innocent as it was to help a man find the light, it felt like something you had to hide. Meeting so late into the night.

As the sun set, you felt a stir in your stomach. You had your bible, attempting to find a proper way to go about the conversation later. As you looked, all you could feel was nervous, many thoughts swarming your head. Men had come in and described their acts with women, and you were more than clear-headed on the steps they needed to take. But this man, having already acted on the thoughts he had about men, made you think of sodomy as an old law you deemed unfair. To punish those for private acts in their homes. And if true love existed in the act, how could god punish that? Were there other ways to share love between men? That could be something to ask.

Nightfall came, and you were having a late dinner when you went to the confessional booth. Candles burned across the church, offering a gentle light. As you glanced up, you saw a large man enter the booth. Fearing you were late, you quickly followed his steps and sat in the booth.

"Good evening, Father (Name). I am glad you are open so late. I am glad to speak of these times."

"Of course, what about these? Relations are keeping you up, mister—" "Morgan." "I'm sorry?" "You can call me Arthur Morgan." There was silence for a second. You smiled, having a name for the mystery man. "Well, Mister Morgan! What about these relations keep you from sleeping?" There was slight shuffling from the man as he cleared his throat.

"I've stopped seeing men and women that way the last few months, but I miss it. At night, I can't help but want the warmth of someone else next to me, to know who's next to me, feeling their best." His voice was low and soft, and you subconsciously leaned close to the screen to hear him.

The gentle flicker of candlelight danced around the booth, casting shadows against the box. Arthur's voice, low and tinged with longing, pulled you in even further, creating an intimate cocoon that felt almost sacred. "You talk of these connections," you replied softly, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. "It's clear how much you crave that closeness." The moment's intimacy sent shivers down your spine as you leaned in further, the barrier between you both seeming to dissolve.

"It's not just the physical interactions I miss. It's the intimacy—how another person can make you feel alive and understood." You could sense the ache in his words, and your heart responded with an unfamiliar flutter. "I never feel more alive than when I have someone pretty exhausted next to me."

The tight feeling was back in your stomach. "Well, Mister Morgan, the only real sins you commit in these cases are ones of the flesh; God does not punish those as harshly as they are the easiest to commit." there was a chuckle from Arthur. "As I speak to you, father, something tells me you have no experience with this whole thing. You've never experienced this before, have you, father (Name)?" You laughed and shifted in your seat. "You got me there, Mister Morgan; I've never so much as had a girlfriend!" There was silence from Arthur. You could hear your name echo; his voice was so captivating.

"Though my personal experience or lack thereof in these cases isn't important when it comes to helping you." The church was hushed there wasn’t another soul in the church as everyone had long since gone home. Crickets chirped as the silence got longer and longer.

“I know you never mentioned that forgiveness from god is a goal of yours; however, I do think he will forgive! Just sodomy is looked down upon by many people as it's a part of an old set of laws-"his gruff voice interrupted your own, "so no sodomy and two men can lay together?" His inquisitive tone sent a pleasant spark in your abdomen. You sat in thought as you attempted to remember the condemnation of other acts when you remembered your curiosities from this afternoon.

"I do wonder, Mister Morgan, other than, um, sodomy, what else do two men partake in?" Your voice felt small and strained. It felt inappropriate to ask as if it was invasive. His laughter filled the space again, warm and inviting, as if he could sense the heat radiating from you through the wall separating you both. At that moment, the line between priest and man blurred, and the night deepened.

“Some men just like kissin' Father. Most brush it off as an in-the-moment type thing. They were ‘too drunk and didn’t realize.’ But they knew the mouth they were swapping spit with was a man. Maybe even some grabbing and rubbing.” You now felt incredibly top-heavy, as if your legs would struggle to support you if you stood.

You could only imagine what grabbing went on and rubbing. You felt flushed at the idea of such closeness with a man. Was this how homosexuals felt? An ache in their groin to be near a man, not for sex but just passionate closeness? Was the main thing that pushed you to this work not some blessing from God but just Homosexual tendencies?

But he continued, “Some men even love another man’s mouth on them. Did ya know that Father (Name)? A man taking another man in his mouth?” His tone was curious, but you missed his intentions in provoking you. Sure, he was here to become a better person. But even a saint would become desperate to see your face tighten at the most minor touches you’ve ever experienced. The slacks you wore under your cassock felt uncomfortable. They never felt so glued to your body. The extra fabric of your cassock gave you more coverage, but you couldn’t feel more exposed.

“No, I, um, uh, wasn’t aware of that, Mister Morgan. I didn’t know the options two men had when bedded together.” You felt like you were gasping for air as you spoke as if the air from your words was being sucked out of you by Arthur.

“Is there anything else that keeps you at night with these memories, Mister Morgan?” Your stomach felt tight. The atmosphere in the booth was intense and hot. While you wanted to help, you also wished things would. Cool down and not feel overwhelmed.

"I’ve just been feeling lonely. I miss sleeping next to someone most nights—someone who doesn’t leave before I open my eyes in the morning." His voice sounded sad, bringing the warm feelings in your head back down to earth.

"God is with you every night, Mister Morgan," you said, clearing your throat as you gazed through the screen that separated you. You could make out his side profile, but there are no specifics. "Of course, you can’t hug or kiss God. But you can feel His presence with you. I’m also here for you, Mister Morgan. The whole church is! If you need company, there’s always someone here during regular business hours." You heard his boots scrape against the floor on the other side of the booth.

"I suppose you're right, Father. I'll come again. You're quite nice. It's sweet how much you try to understand. Do you get rewarded for your work?" Your stomach felt like it was full of butterflies at the question. You did your best to explain that you received physical rewards for helping others. Still, the joy of assisting was reward enough. Even being asked that question was a reward for all your efforts.

Though Arthur believed you loved your work, he offered: "I just think such a hardworking and kind man deserves more than just praise. How about a nice night out for dinner and some sightseeing? Whenever you're ready, Father (name), just let me know, and we can go off on such a trip—just the two of us."

The booth's screen hid his features, but you could tell he was facing you now, taking your breath away.

This was against the booth's code of conduct. You shouldn't know his name; you shouldn't be looking at him. But you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to open the doors or tear off the screen between you. You want to see the man you have been speaking to for so long, even if it was only a few hours.

“That’s a very kind offer, Mister; maybe one day when folks around here don’t need me as much! I’d love to visit a whole new town.” Your hand reached up for the screen before stopping yourself. “However, Mister Morgan, maybe these plans would be better out of confessional and when I can see you. Of course, what happens here stays in here and will not be mentioned in our free time out of it, but I do believe in stranger danger!”

As you spoke, a playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips, hoping to lighten the mood. “It sounds silly, but sometimes when I think of going to a new town, I can't help but imagine wearing some normal clothes like the rest of you cowboys wear.”

“Maybe we could have that arranged someday, Father (Name).”

The night had finally ended as you heard Arthur bid you goodnight, leaving with a soft click of the confessional door. You sighed gently to yourself as you opened your confessional door and noticed a few candles had gone out. Take the small matchbox from your pocket. As you turned slightly, there was the warmth of a hand around your torso, and a soft laugh sounded through the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You glanced up, surprised to see Arthur's playful grin, his eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"I thought Ya could use a little help with the ambiance," he said, adjusting the hat that now perched softly on your head. The playful gesture sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You couldn't help but smile, your heart racing as you felt the closeness between you. The flickering of the last few candles cast gentle shadows on the walls, creating a personal atmosphere.

"Thank you so much, Mister Morgan; I was just about to relight these," you replied, motioning toward the candles. His presence was comforting, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. As you struck a match and brought it to the wick, the flame danced with a life of its own, illuminating Arthur's features. He moved closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "Sometimes all you need is a little light to guide the way." His hand slid down the front of your cassock, and his much rougher hand groped your stiff hard-on.

“Just no sodomy and God will forgive you right?” His other hand mushed your chest around. You slightly cried, ashamed of the subconscious humping into Arthur’s hand. Ashamed that in front of the son of god, you gave in so easily to another man's advances.

While you had almost no exposed skin on your neck that did not stop Arthur from latching onto it. His hands never stopped rubbing and smooshing. You stumbled forward to a pew, your legs couldn’t hold you up for much longer.

Arthur’s hard-on pressed against your back as his grunts and moans filled your ears. “Could you forgive me Father (Name)?” Your eyes squeezed shut feeling overwhelmed at the licking and sucking onto your skin. The sucking stung in a way that it felt like a punishment for enjoying it. His mo and grunts replayed in your mind as his hands went into your slacks grasping at your crotch so desperately.

He flipped you over your ass pressed against the hardwood of the pew you were leaning on and his hand was right back into place toying with you, it was almost pitiful how you whined out his name.

“How many Hail Marys for this Father (Name)?” Arthur had slowly sunk to his knees kissing down your stomach, maintaining eye contact the whole way down. Your face was on fire as the cowboy’s hat tilted down with your head.

His unwavering eye contact was captivating, exuding a powerful hold that was difficult to resist. A small kiss was pressed against the warm skin above the waistband of your underwear. His tongue playfully peeked out from between his lips.

Gently press it against the tip of your penis. You choked on air as his mouth sealed onto the tip lapping at it like a thirsty animal. You gently tugged his hat over your face, savoring the scent of his hair, his movements kept pace and you could feel your stomach tighten.

You've never even kissed someone before but now having a man touch you in ways you had never done to yourself, his mouth attached to you like a lifeline in such a holy place.

The shame you felt was overshadowed by the feeling of coming undone. Like a rubber band snapping tears burn your eyes as you wheeze against the soft pillow on your mattress. Your fingers were tightly gripping the smooth pillow as you attempted to catch your breath.

Stumbling up from your mattress the floor creaked under your weight. In your frantic movements, you dropped to your knees and reached for your crucifix. Holding the cold beads in your hand made you realize how much your skin was burning up. The beads tapped lightly together in your hand as you began to pray, desperate to apologize for such a filthy dream.

While you couldn't control it and you knew that, this hadn't ever happened before. The small wet patch on your underwear was cold when you finished praying, you could only ignore it so long before you eventually had to change them. Upon closer inspection your sheet also needed cleaning as you deduced you were also grinding against your bed when the dream reached its peak.

Hou wasn't sure how this would affect you if you were to ever meet the man face to face, he didn't need to know but what if he found out?

[imrightwereyouleftme]

yk I don't fully understand why people always say "listen to real queer artists instead of acting like Taylor is one" which is all in all just a not so good take bc you are instantly diminishing all the work Taylor has done to queercode her music, to add tiny bits of queer history into her lyrics and visuals to show us that she is queer. completely diminishing the fact that I, and most likely many others, learned about things that have no real place in todays modern world because of its "openness". (I can't be the only one who had no clue what a hairpin drop is before she sang about it)

but that's not the point I'm trying to make right now. the point I'm trying to illustrate is that most queer artists, are still small artists. they are individuals that rarely ever get played on the radio, and when they do it's one song that went viral on tiktok or whatever so it had gained enough streams online or enough sales ig so that the radio stations decided they'll play it.

I'm not saying don't support small queer artists, artists that (looking at our world right now) will never become mainstream because they are queer and they are writing explicitly queer songs.

and this goes past small artists. if we look at artists that came out after they had already been established, you can see a clear dent in their popularity.

Sam Smith was a big deal, even when they identified as a gay man, they were socially accepted. Their songs were played up and down, they were in the charts with every new album they dropped. but then they came out as non-binary and made an even more explicitly queer album and suddenly people acted like it was the devil's work.

Lil'nas'x had a break through with old town road, at that point most people didn't know he was gay. Then he dropped Montero as an explicitly queer man, stating his sexuality with an admirable amount of pride. But the only people that celebrated him, were queer people, and not even all of them.

Then we look at artists that have been in the game for longer. Look at Miley Cyrus, or Demi Lovato or hell, even Jojo Siva. All of them are constantly mislabeled by people or just straight up get their queerness ignored (especially Miley). They are also constantly being ridiculed, no matter if what they did was a bad thing or not. People always find things to hate.

So, my question is, why? Why do I have to want to need Taylor to come out just so you understand that her music is just as queer as her? Because we see very clearly what homophobia and worse so the blatant transphobia does to people in the industry.

There is no mistake that Taylor will have a dent in her popularity when it comes to most of her fanbase if she ever comes out, simply because these people are homophobic as hell. And we all know it, we see it every day in our inboxes, in comment sections, in posts that get mistagged on purpose. And you'd be a fool to think she doesn't see it. Because if she didn't, she'd just fool herself.

In conclusion, do listen to queer artists, elevate their voices, but don't forget about how many people are still residing in the closet because they fear it's gonna be the end of their career. closeted queers are still queer!

[batboyblog]

"My Name is Harvey Milk and I'm Here To Recruit You!"

If you don't know Harvey Milk was the first openly gay man elected to public office, to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1977. To this day Harvey remains the most famous queer person elected to office maybe in the world. His short and tumultuous time in office was dominated by the fight for gay rights. In the late 1970s there was a huge backlash against the rise of gay rights spearheaded by a group called "Save Our Children". Across the country they organized elections to revoke local gay rights ordinances in Miami, Saint Paul, Wichita and Eugene in the summer and fall of 1977. In 1978 a California state Senator John Briggs brought forward a citizens referendum, Proposition 6, which would ban gay people and supporters of gay rights from being teachers any where in the state of California. The last year of Harvey's life was consumed with the struggle against Briggs who he debated across the state. In the end the Briggs Initiative was defeated 58-41% with Harvey's home of San Francisco turning out over 70% against. The national anti-gay fever broke and "Save Our Children" never recovered.

Harvey opened every speech he ever gave with "My name is Harvey Milk, and I'm here to recruit you" In the 1970s rather than accusing gay people of "grooming" children (an idea that didn't exist then) they were accused of "recruiting" them. "Recruiting our children to the homosexual lifestyle". So Harvey used it as a joke but also a battle cry

Today it feels like every day there's more bad news. Across the country state legislatures are trying to ban trans health care for minors and even adults. Local school boards are banning books about LGBT people (and others). States are trying to ban drag. violence and the threat of violence are trying to stop companies from doing Pride and attacking Queer events. The internet is flooded with "groomer" attacks on our humanity. There are days it does feel like the 1970s all over again.

BUT! we won then, and there are many lessons we can take from Harvey and his struggle and use to win the fight against the current wave of hate plunging American in darkness. Harvey's been gone a very long time so... My name is Max and I'm here to recruit you, here are some things I want everyone to do.

VOTE BITCH!

Are you an American citizen 18 years of age or older? Are you registered to vote? if the answer is no, register to fucking vote bitch, here check out what you need. If you want registered, click the link any ways and double check. If you're 16 or 17 years old good news more than half the states in America allow you to "preregister" so you're all signed up and become a registered vote right on your 18th birthday. Whats more ask every vaguely left of center person in your life, everyone who supports LGBT rights, if they're registered to vote and if any one says "no" bug the shit out of them till that changes.

But more than just registering to vote you have to go and vote, yes every election. Right now across America conservative queerphobes are using local elections that get little to no attention and are often very low turn out to take over and push wildly extreme and hateful agendas. Local school boards across America are banning books that have LGBT characters or themes. They pushing policies that refuse students the right to their correct names and pronouns. They want to require schools to out students to their parents against their wishes. Check Vote411 or ballotpedia to find what elections are happening around you.

Candidates on a local level, school board, town/city council, county government, even up to state Rep and state Senate candidates are almost always very responsive to questions. Email everyone running and ask them where they stand, you will get answers I PROMISE you will get answers. Its the easiest thing to do and everyone who has the right to vote in this country should do it, vote in every election.

"But I live in a super blue area my vote doesn't matter" SHUT UP! SHUT UP! even if every local election is Democratic it can be more progressive, ask local candidates what they're gonna do to push LGBT rights forward. Will your local school board push teaching LGBT history? respect trans students pronouns? will your local library board host a drag queen story hour and put together programs for pride? ask! push them! let local candidates know!

"but I live in a super red area my vote doesn't count" BULLSHIT! where ever you are there's a local election that can swing to the non-shitty side if people show up, you can be the difference in a school board election. No matter what stand up and be counted.

Come Out Come Out Wherever You Are.

Since the earliest days of the movement in the 1950s and 1960s before Stonewall, through Harvey Milk's time in the 1970s through to right now, the most powerful tool we have is to come out. It is easy to hate the homosexual, the transgender as an abstraction, as a stereotype as an unrefuted lie. It is so much harder to hate a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter, a friend, a neighbor, your lawyer, your doctor, the mailman, your 8th grade English teacher. In 1978 Harvey said:

"Unless you have dialogue, unless you open the walls of dialogue, you can never reach to change people's opinion. In those two weeks, more good and bad, but more about the word homosexual and gay was written than probably in the history of mankind. Once you have dialogue starting, you know you can break down prejudice. In 1977 we saw a dialogue start."

Thats what they're scared of, thats why they're freaking out in Target, why they're trying to shut down Drag Queen story hours and take away the books. Ignorance and hate lives in darkness and dies in the light. In 1978 gay men and lesbians went door to door in California and introduced themselves to strangers to explain the harm Briggs would do to them. They vote for us 3 to 1 if they know they know one of us.

It shouldn't be like this, it should be when you're ready when you have all the words, but they're coming for us all so come out come out wherever you are. If you know your parents will love you but you've been holding off because it's scary or stressful, nows the moment. If you're a grown ass adult who lives on your own and don't need mom and dad's money to pay your rent, tell them, no matter how much it hurts, call them on the phone, write them a letter if you have to. Does your family know but they asked you not to tell grandma, grandma, great-aunt Marge because they're old or whatever, or your aunt and uncle who are born again Christians. Listen if they still vote they could be hurting you and if they really love you they shouldn't want to do that, tell them! tell them who you really are, and it might be the work of years to bring that person around, but you never know till you try it.

Are there family members you have who know and love you but you know they're conservative and still vote Republican and you've been avoiding talking to them about it because it's awkward? Stop avoiding it, explain it to them, explain that it's not "just politics" explain to your loved ones that they ARE hurting you. If they don't hear it the first time, don't stop, if they love you they shouldn't hurt you.

Come Out at Work, Come out at your bowling league, come out to that friend of a friend you see sometimes, wear a pin, rainbow shoes, a shirt in public, tell your co-workers, your clients, your Church, your Synagogue. Wear that rainbow pin, that pronoun t-shirt, put a sticker on your car, your bag, your phone. If it's safe for you to be out in a space, claim it, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE.

COMING OUT AS TRANS OR NON-BINARY

COMING OUT AS LESBIAN, GAY, OR BISEXUAL

Go To Pride This Year.

Conservatives are trying harder than any time in my lifetime to shut down Pride. Florida and Tennessee have passed laws that will limit pride events. Terrorists are threatening and attacking brands that are doing Pride themed events and products. These events and products go back at least 20 years but the violence of attacks against them is really new. So the only answer is to GO TO PRIDE. I don't care if crowds are not your thing, I don't care if its 97 degrees out the day your city does it, I don't care if your local pride is small and embarrassing, I don't care you might see that one ex, I DON'T CARE. If you physically can go to a pride event this June DO IT. If you're scared to be seen, wear a mask, go in drag, put make or body pant over your tattoos whatever you need to do. If we want to have Pride again next year in many areas this year needs to be a show of force. If you've never been and you never go again this is the year, do it, go, find the Pride event closest to you and do it.

Get Involved Whore!

So far I've offered you pretty easy asks for things you can do, voting, coming out, going to Pride. Now comes the harder ones, get involved. In 1978 gay men and lesbians knocked on doors and told voters across the state of California how an anti-gay measure would affect them personally. If they had the nerve less than 10 years after Stonewall to go to strangers houses and come out to them, I believe you can do it too. Get out there, knock doors, make phone calls, mail postcards, wave signs. Talk to Voters from anywhere, find your local Democratic Party, check out LGBT Democrats in your state, check out groups like the HRC and PFLAG

if you've got money give to HRC, give to GLAD, Give to The National Center for Lesbian Rights all 3 of whom have been the tip of the spear fighting the insane anti-LGBT laws coming out of the states.

If you don't have money, check out The Victory Fund thats supports LGBT candidates and find one close to you and sign up to help. Can't find anyone? try Run for Something that supports young progressives. If you live in a Blue area of a blue state, you can check the Sister District Project which links up volunteers with swingy districts across the country. Swing Left does much the same on a more federal level

crazy right wing extremists can count on organized support from Churches and far right groups. You, yes you, talking to you Glenn! HAVE TO be the support network, the volunteer base for LGBT candidates and their allies and supporters. You have to HAVE to get out there, give if you have money, knock on doors, call, text, write letters go to a protest, sit at a booth, register people to vote, hand out literature, WHATEVER whatever. You can do it, please give at least one weekend over the next two years to a political campaign, be it a local school board candidate, town council, working for the Democrats or volunteering through the HRC or a progressive group, the people who want to destroy you are out working to win elections, you have to be too.

Fucking Run, why not?

This is the last thing, the hardest thing and the thing I don't expect everyone to do. Run, yes really, run for office, yes you, yes I mean it. If the crazed insane conservative who thinks Hillary Clinton drinks child blood out of kids like a juice box is qualified for School Board to ban all the books with queer people or black folks, you are MORE than qualified. I don't care if you're a high school drop out with face tats, you're more qualified than these people, so do it, if you've ever thought of it, do it. Frustratingly dozens of dozens of offices across this country are filled every day but uncontested elections only one person signed up, hell that person can be you why not? Look into it Last year 41% of the seats in the Florida Legislature went uncontested, 37% of the seats in Texas, 53% in Tennessee, 58% in South Carolina. It's not for everyone, but if you've ever wanted to, ever thought about it, take this as your sign, do it. Do you have a friend who's so smart, cool, involved and just better than you in every way and you think they should run the world? Nominate them, give them a push to run

I think Harvey put the importance of electing queer people better than I ever could so

Somewhere in Des Moines or San Antonio, there’s a young gay person who all of a sudden realizes that she or he is gay. Knows that if the parents find out, they’ll be tossed out of the house. The classmates will taunt the child and the Anita Bryants and John Briggs’ are doing their bit on TV, and that child had several options. Staying in a closet, suicide, and then one day that child might open a paper, and it says “Homosexual elected in San Francisco,” and there are two new options. An option is to go to California or stay in San Antonio and fight. Two days after I was elected, I got a phone call, and the voice was quite young. It was from Altoona, Pennsylvania, and the person said, “Thanks.” And you’ve got to elect gay people so that that young child and the thousands upon thousands like that child know that there’s hope for a better world. There’s hope for a better tomorrow. Without hope, not only gays, but those Blacks, and the Asians, and disabled, and seniors. The us’s. The us’s without hope, the us’s give up. I know that you cannot live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you, and you have got to give them hope. Thank you very much.

If you read all this thanks, I can't make anyone do anything of course, but whatever you choose to do, I'll be out there knocking doors. I wish I did not live in such dark times but as Gandalf The Gray said "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” 

Finally to all my Queer brothers, sisters, and siblings, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Ha, some asshole tore down the promo posters for my city's pride (in a neighbouring, quite conservative, town) and the local paper wrote an article about it - aka giving it more promo.

And today someone has put most of the posters back and the same paper as yesterday AND a local news site have written articles about it.

So that's 3 times the promo we would normally have gotten, all because some idiot can't just ignore things they don't like.

The gays keep winning 🏳️‍🌈

[myeyesarebrighter]

Someone drove by my house this morning and screamed “DISGUSTING” out their window while driving prob 50mph. I assume it has to do with the pride flag, all are welcome signs, and my neighbors pride mailbox wrap - it’s pretty brightly rainbowy around here.

My FIL asked me if the rainbows were all my neighbors the other day. I said no, we placed ours and it happens that they did as well. We share a driveways. And FIL was like “why are you gay?” And my explanation was exactly what happened today. If people feel brave enough to scream hateful things out loud from their cars at rainbows, well then gay people should know where they are welcome and won’t be abused. And equally, maybe my diluting the water with my pride stuff also helps lift pressure off gay folks - they can scream it all they want at me, especially if it means someone else doesn’t need to endure it.

Also, maybe just maybe people will shut the fuck up with their awful opinions if they feel there are less supportive faces in the audience. Keep your hate inside, no one here wants it.

Also I live in a very hallmark picturesque town - old New England colonial homes line Main Street. And one of the historical old homes just sold. It has been repainted bright lavender purple and has 3 different pride flags hung out front from the center line of the house. It is so gay, I can’t even handle the joy it gives me.

Lastly, maybe broadcasting my opinions on my house will keep the bigot families away. Hopefully the bigot moms will find their own space away from me, their kiddos can all do whatever they all please, but people won’t be surprised by how I feel. You do not have small town small mind friends here.

Anyway. So many great reasons to just let people live their own lives.

[thedrarrylibrarian]

Several people have been kind enough to let me publish their thoughts on fandom, community, and queerness to celebrate Pride in the Library. Today's piece comes from @wolfpants.

Dear readers, dreamers, and purveyors of the glittering, gilded aisles of the Drarry Library,

Fandom life began for me at age fifteen. We just got our first family computer, taking pride of place in the utility room between the boiler and my dad’s boxes of tools. I had recently come out as bisexual to my friends at school, who, props to them, had all taken it quite well despite the small town we grew up in (I was very lucky, they were great - everyone else though? Not so much). Still, even with supportive friends offline, I never felt like I could talk to them about what I really enjoyed: watching Buffy, reading Harry Potter and looking for queer subtext (I could never have convinced any of them that Harry’s story screams gay allegory–no matter what JKR has to say on the topic back then or now), scouring bookshops and libraries for any sort of queer content I could get my hands on, desperate as I was to read something that spoke to me, to read about love outside of the heteronormative landscape of the popular media. I wasn’t just tired of boy-meets-girl; I had never identified with it in the first place.

The year we got dial-up internet was the year I discovered Livejournal. The absolute joy I felt, stumbling upon an LJ community specifically dedicated to roleplaying Harry Potter characters in queer pairings. Discovering, beyond that, that people wrote stories about Harry and my other favourite queer-coded character of the series: Draco Malfoy. And then it was Wolfstar (specifically Sirius), then Drarry again, and somewhere along the way my lurking fell off and I stopped reading fic for a while when I moved to London and settled into my first job, my first real relationship, and sitting uncomfortably atop my bisexual identity and not really knowing where that shift happened and why. All the while, I was pursuing a writing career on the more journalistic side: writing for music and film outlets, doing a little bit of secret creative writing on the side, dipping in and out of HP RPGs but never really—connecting. In “real life”, my relationship with my ex was falling apart, and I felt very disconnected from the LGBTQIA+ community because, even though I knew I belonged, I never felt like I could be truly me with anyone—perhaps because I was, unknowingly, still discovering who I really was.

When the pandemic happened, it gave me the breathing space I needed to get to that point. It brought me back to fandom.

It started with reading The Popular Wolfstar Fic Everyone Was Reading, and reopening my ao3 account to re-read some old favourites from over the years. It then unrolled to, hey, I have some free time, why don’t I try writing my own Wolfstar fic for my oldest, dearest friend (who I met RPing on LJ at 15!), which then turned into: you should publish this, and see what happens.

So, I did. And I made a tumblr account, and I lurked for a while, shyly reblogging things and scrolling through author accounts I’d admired from a very young age, astonished and really fucking impressed that they were still in the game. I read their new fics, I was drawn back into Drarry, and from there I discovered what a wonderful community this is, not only for its immensely talented creatives, but for its values as a inclusive, equitable, supportive, uplifting, and joyful group of individuals who genuinely welcome everyone with open arms and love. That, in itself, has made it easy to reach out to like-minded folks here, to make life-long friends, to chat to people who have been through similar experiences in questioning their identities (it is truly thanks to this fandom and the many discussions I’ve had with people here that I’ve been able to realise my identity as a NB lesbian). To write! To share! To not be ashamed of my kinks and to discover fun, delicious rare pairs! To look at breathtaking art and read some of the best goddamn writing I’ve ever set eyes on!

I have spent thirty-seven years on this planet. A good chunk of that time has been spent questioning many parts, pieces, and niggly jiggly bits of my identity. Who am I? What am I? Is there anyone out there who is just like me?

After many years of searching in the dark, of asking these questions over and over, I can joyously say that the answer is: yes. And oh, how thankful I am for that, for all of you, because fandom has really been the community I can categorically point to and say: they did that for me, we did that for we, and I will do anything for you.

Happy pride.

Thank you, Wolf, for joining me in the Library. Your love and joy for fandom have left me feeling quite tender-hearted, in the best way. It's so so good to ask the question "Is there anyone out there who is just like me?" and find over and over that the answer chorusing back is "yes." Thank you for adding your yes to our chorus, and joining me for Pride in the Library.

If you want more @wolfpants be sure to check out their work on AO3! I can't help but recommend the fic that made me fall in love with her writing in the first place, Pages of You, which I've featured previously for Happy Hour. It's got Drarry and Wolfstar, and is one of my favorite comfort rereads.

🏳️‍🌈 Lots of Love and Happy Pride! 🏳️‍🌈