#behold: gay people

[gresit]

I only gamble with my life, never my money. THE MUMMY (1999) dir. Stephen Sommers

[delilah-briarwood]

Rather than trying to prove Gaylor is real and that Taylor Swift is actually just trying to secretly signal that she’s a lesbian, why don’t y’all just go and listen to openly queer artists instead of forming conspiracies to try and make your faves queer instead?

Like it says so much about how people would rather waste their time trying to prove she’s queer instead of y’know looking into queer artists and their music.

It comes across as if y’all don’t actually care about LGBT artists, you just feel like you need some justification as to why you enjoy your faves.

[kitsuragied]

the trent crimm moments this season have been making me insane because last year before i finished watching s1 i read a shitton of fic and became convinced that he was gay like 100% i thought they were going to mention his ex husband in a future episode and i just hadnt gotten there yet. AND THEN when i realized it wasn't canon we just all looked at him and said Homosexuality i was like well ahahaha... what if he was wouldnt that be so funny and crazy.. but like it'll never happen. AND NOW. well. well if they. if he. well i may simply

[todayisafridaynight]

just watched Taboo (Gohatto) that anon here was talkin bout and i get legal rights to talk about it on this blog because takeshi kitano (hirose) plays hijikata in the movie

[amphiptere]

is gay hockey smut a thing? because unless the authors are prepared to make their hockey universe co-ed, there's no way to have players on the same or even opposing teams get together and frankly that's a way more interesting story than "random hot girl meets hockey guy."

[hacemorra-death-gremlin]

Oh See.... 

[ID: Three drawings of op’s original character, Sameeh Olssen. They are labeled “1 minute”, “10 minutes”, and “From Memory”, and each done in a very sketchy style. “1 minute” is a very bare bone face shot, 3/4s angle with a serious expression. “10 minutes” is a more detailed sketch bust, with them moving forward with a small grin, where fangs are visable. In this he is wearing a tweed jacket and a turtleneck. “From Memory” is a fully colored sketch. They are sitting down, leaning forward enough their hands are flat against the ground. He looks upward slightly vulnerably. They are wearing a loose-fitting black shirt with “METAL BAND” written on the front, grey pants, and fuzzy earrings. Behind their head is sketched bugs in red. Over all, Sam is lanky with a scruffy beard. They have an undercut, with shoulder length black hair that is tied back into a pony tail. The pupil of their eye is a W shape. end ID] 

[supermarketcrush]

girls when they finish watching dead poets society

[kakusu-shipping]

I am so sorry I am being so annoying with Self insert fanfiction recently but I don’t really mean that because this is my blog and I do as I please and also @probably-some-goat is encouraging me so you all can blame him.

Mountain’s Peak

In which I am the first of a future 3 total humans to climb the Himalayan Mountains in not nearly enough clothing

It was warm. So warm. Emile’s eye cracked open slowly to stare at a blurry ceiling he’d never seen before, or maybe he had, there was no way to know without his glasses. The bed below him was solid earth, a layer of scratchy hay separated him from the cold stone floor. He started to sit up, and a voice spoke to him from the corner of the room.

“You awake!” She chirped, too far to make out any details, “Good good.” She leaned over, patting the robes piled on top of the human in a makeshift blanket, “Warm? More warm?” She questioned, tilting her head.

Emile sat up slowly, glancing around his makeshift floor bed until he found his glasses folded neatly beside the folded robe that’d become his pillow.

With his sight returned Emile could finally take in the room. It was small, with a single roaring fire and a window currently covered by a long red cloth that spread across the floor. Over the fire place hung the humans clothes, his thick orange sweater, jeans, socks, and fluffy boots, all drying from the cold. Under the blanket he’d been wrapped in yet more robes, thin fabrics not made to keep a human properly covered in the Nepal mountains.

Finally, he turned his attention to the owner of the voice that’d greeted him. She was beautiful. An Omnic with big LED eyes in an almond shape with three sensors placed in a small triangle on her forehead. She was sturdily built, with a near solid armored frame that left no hinges exposed and cylindrical arms ending in ball jointed wrists and legs that grew thick and ended flat after the knee joint, all signs of an Omnic built for the medical field, built for precision and careful work, with the strength to lift up to 300 pounds of human and equipment if need be.

“Ah, our snow bird has awoken.” A voice spoke at the door, low and soft. Emile hadn’t realized he’d been staring at his nurse until he was forced to look away from her to the tall, white clad Omnic at the door.

“ma- MASTER MONDATTA!” Emile threw his make shift blankets off in an attempt to stand to greet his idol, or at the very least sit up properly. Oh he was just as radiant in person, sleek white plating covered the Omnic’s face, his shoulder and neck supports exposed as he appeared to be missing the upper half of his chest plating, along with the protective plating on both arms, exposing the wires that would act as a nerves system that allowed the Omnic to reach out to Emile and put him back to rest.

“Easy now, little one, you must rest.” Mondatta spoke calmly as he sat on his knees beside the humble little human, who couldn’t stop shaking in his presence, “Reya has told me you are suffering a rather sever case of frostbite, it would be best if you remained still for a while.” He calmed, taking Emile’s hands into his own. The young human stared at his finger joints as they wrapped around his fleshy palm, watched his thumb smooth over his knuckles.

“Aoita making hot food. I go check.” The nurse, who Emile assumed to be Reya, patted Mondatta’s shoulder as she stood and began her way to the door, before tuning to motion to a kettle in the fire, “Hot water, rag, gently.” She made a motion of wiping her hands, and then she was gone out the door and around the corner, off to the kitchen to check on Aoita.

Mondatta gently pulled the kettle from the fire, unaffected by the metal’s obvious heat as he poured the boiling water into a bowl near by and dipped a rag into it. Gently, one by one, the Omnic massaged warmth by into Emile’s frosted finger tips, encouraging his blood to flow naturally by running circles on the human’s palm with his thumb as he gently wrapped each finger in the damp part of the cloth before drying them back off.

“Where did you come from, child? You are not from the village outside our monastery, nor the one at the base of the mountain.” Mondatta asked after a moment, Emile barely caught his words, instead mesmerized by the monk’s skills.

“Ah.. K-Kentcuky, sir... America..” Emile answered honestly, still staring at the joints in the Omnic’s fingers.

“That is quiet a long way to travel. What brings you here? Vacation with your family?”

It became apparent then that Mondatta assumed Emile to be a lost child, which was perhaps a fair assumption, as the human was only just barely 15, and looked much smaller than others his age.

“N-No sir! I came here to- to meet you!” Emile took his hand from Mondatta’s, looking the monk in the face. As he took a deep breath to build up his courage, “I- I want- I want you to take me as your student!” Emile declared as much as he could with his shaking voice and pounding heart. He gripped tightly to the collar of his robe to hold himself steady, it felt as though he needed to hold his chest, lest his heart escape. “My- My parents are.. A-Anti-Omnic, sir.. They don’t believe in your cause... But I do! And I want to support you! I want to offer you my aid and- And learn from you!”

“Your aid?” Mondatta tilted his head in curiosity, “What exactly are you attempting to offer me, child?”

“I- I grew up in a machine shop, sir. My father’s life work revolved around Omnics; Making them, repairing them. Even after the crisis we stayed afloat but running a repair shop, gr-granted only for.. Omnics who where... o..owned...” Emile felt the shame of his upbringing sink in, the grip on his robes tightened, “I-I’ve never met an Omnic I couldn’t repair! I’ve memorized every assembly book my father owned, I know I could fix and- And heal any damage that could come your way, sir, so- So please,” Emile bowed his head to the monk before him, holding tightly to his collar, “T-Take me as your student. I want to help you make a peaceful world between our kind.”

Mondatta stared at the top of Emile’s head for a moment, pondering his offer. The correct choice would be to call the authorities and send the child home. He was a minor, most likely here without his parent’s knowledge, possibly on stolen funds directly from them.

Yes, that would, morally, be the correct choice.

Mondatta put his hand to his chin, and tilted his head the other direction, “It gets rather cold here at night, and you packed rather lightly.”

Emile sat up, “I saw advertisements for the mining operation in town! I’ll get a job and buy warmer clothes!”

Mondatta gave a hum, “We do not have food supplies here, and most of the buildings do not have any heating, or a furnace.”

“I’ll be fine! There’s edible weeds growing in the hills, and I know how to start a fire safely!”

“I am not sure we have a proper place for a human to use the bathroom-”

“I can hold it!”

Mondatta’s thoughtful facade cracked, the monk broke out into cackles, bringing the human before him into confusion. A hand, warm from hot water, with smooth joints and golden plating placed gently upon Emile’s head, ruffling his snow white hair gently.

“Of course you may stay, my student.” Mondatta spoke with a smile in his tone, “No job or “holding it” required. We take care of our family here.”

Tears sprung from Emile’s eyes, his entire body shook joyfully and anxiously. In a sudden move he wrapped his bare arms around Master Mondatta, pressing his face to the remaining half of the Omnic’s chest plate, sobbing out thanks and praise, promises to repay the monk, and the entire Monastery, with his skills as a mechanic.

After a long time of crying, some hot soup by a lovely Omnic with a thick southern accent who asked to be addressed “Aoi”, and a little more care taken to Emile’s frostbite, the human realized something rather important.

“How did you get here?” Mondatta repeated his question, placing a thicker, almost quilt like robe on the human’s shoulders.

Emile nodded, “I remember seeing the Monastery, the lights in the windows but.. I don’t remember coming inside.”

“Ah. That is because you lost conciousness outside the monastery walls. Brother Zenyatta was the one to find you collapsed in the snow, he brought you to me.”

“I see... Please introduce me to Brother Zenyatta! I have to thank him for saving my life!”

Mondatta once again hummed, this time truly thinking on it. Though Zenyatta was a member of the Shambali, he wasn’t as keen on humans as some of the others who wandered the monastery halls. In fact, he was rather against interacting with them.

Perhaps then this is what one could call an opportunity. After all, Zenyatta did bring the human in, as Emile said he saved his life when he certainly didn’t have to. Perhaps this is human was a gift from the iris, one to help set Zenyatta on the right path.

“Alright then,” Mondatta nodded to himself, confident this was a good choice, “Tomorrow we shall pay a visit to Zenyatta.”

[weaselishmcdiesel]

RRAR

[loverboybrightsideghost]

🌾

🌾 - How queer do you think you look? Would it be obvious to someone that you were queer if they looked at you?

i think people who know me already don't tend to assume i'm gay (or if they do, they really don't say anything about it), but multiple times when i've gone to events and talked to people who don't know me, i end up getting asked my pronouns a lot. so yeah i would say i'm probably visibly queer. i'm transmasc-y, and i don't generally Do Things with my appearance that are typically considered feminine (and when i do, the rest of how i Look generally cancels it out so that i feel like strangers might get a bit confused upon seeing me).

oh here's a fun little fact about me: before i realized i was trans, when i went to the park little kids would ask me if i was a boy or a girl, and i would actually tell them that they could pick. totally cisgendered thing to do right (NOPE)

[trans-estinien]

the file is too big to post in the discord so im posting it here. youre welcome.

[theinfinitedivides]

why is it when Won says '나 싸우고 싶지 않았어' ('i didn't want to fight') during the convo with Hwa Ran Junho is suddenly possessed by the spirit and mannerisms of Lee Je Hoon. why is that and does anyone have an explanation

[mychlapci]

gay people never just say "youre cute" its always gotta be shit like "MACHINE, TURN BACK NOW" and "YOU MAKE EVEN THE DEVIL CRY" and "BEHOLD THE POWER OF AN ANGEL" and also "AS THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF THE FATHER I SHALL REND YOU APART AND YOU WILL BECOME INANIMATE ONCE MORE" and then they keep teleporting above you and trying to kill you with a sword etc etc like oh my god stooooppp

[blazeismyname]

Statement of Blaze Chronicallyonline regarding his descent into madness while listening to TMA

[asapeveryday]

Breath Me In

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: Smut (Fingering), weed, alcohol

Summary: Uconn’s end of summer party brings you all sorts of highs.

A/n: can you tell I like party settings??? Anyways. We need more fics of Paige receiving instead of always giving pls!! Someone please this girl!

Summer is coming to a close. Long August days turn to colder September nights, and the students of Uconn have mostly moved in for the new semester. A new year of college calls for a party.

Uconns annual end-of-summer party was an absolute staple to attend for seniors, richer students who lived in housing nearby often responsible for hosting. Summery rap and pop blasting, coolers and twisted tea by the gallons, string lights in big green backyards, patio furniture overrun by couples making out or slowly sobering up. It was a sight to behold, and you relished in the feeling of this, the beginning of the end of school.

When you make your way throughout the house, various people stop to talk to you, including the hostess herself.

Stella DeSantos is a trust fund girl who’s in her senior year for sports marketing, and this years lucky party organizer. She has the means, obviously, because the house is massive.

“So… gonna start the year off with some dick or what?” She laughs, already tipsy.

You just smile and shake your head. “I’m chill right now.” Is your reply. Honestly you just didn’t want to pull the ‘id rather have pussy’ card on her.

The girl swings an arm around you. “I could set you up with some really athletic guys if that’s your thing.” She hiccups. “Want a drink?”

She thrusts a mango white claw into your hand and you take it reluctantly. As much as you loved getting wasted the party was a bit too rowdy to feel comfortable. You were desperately searching for someone you knew well enough to hang out with that wasn’t already drunk, with no luck.

You stick by Stella for a while, standing by as she greets people and gets drunker by the minute. You’re still holding the same White-claw, though it’s mostly empty.

You’re scoping out the scene yourself, the house is filled with kids you’ve been in school with for the past years. Your gaze stops in the kitchen, where two girls reside. One tall with dark skin, hair slicked back and clothes baggy. You’d had classes with Aubrey Griffin before, she was intimidating but attractive.

The other girl was paler and slightly shorter, blonde hair tied back into a bun and glasses on her face.

“Paige!” Stella calls out, as if sensing your thoughts. She makes her way over to the two girls and you awkwardly follow behind. Everyone knows Paige Bueckers. She’s one of those students, everyone mostly likes her and she’s friends with all the right people. It puzzled you how someone so gay still attracted so many guys.

Stella talks to Aubrey and Paige, and they politely engage despite obviously being thrown off by how drunk she is. Their shared looks almost make you laugh. You take this as a chance to get a good look at Paige. She mostly stayed out of trouble or tough rumours, and kept to her main group of friends, so aside from her talent on the court you knew almost nothing.

You let yourself stare at her, noting her blue eyes, long lashes and wide smile. She carried herself confidently, but looked uncomfortable.

Finally she turns to meet your eye, and when her tongue flashes out to wet her lips you physically feel something in your stomach drop.

“You her babysitter or something?” She smirks.

“You’d think she knows how much she can handle by now.” You scoff. Stella barely notices, fully talking to Aubrey.

Paige’s eyes dart to the drink in your hand. “Good luck finding a ride home tonight.”

Before you can respond, maybe by telling her your name or sparking better conversation, Stella’s attention is drawn somewhere else and she starts to drag you away.

You turn to get one last look at Paige, and internally celebrate when your eyes meet.

-

As the summer sun finally began to set, it got a little too cold for everyone to be outside. The inside of the house was absolutely packed, the music was louder and the air was thicker. The smell of smoke and sound of people was starting to irritate you, but for whatever reason you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Stella was nowhere to be found and you were sitting on the kitchen counter next to some other girls, quietly sipping some drink while listening in to conversations. The original plan of staying mostly sober was ruined by your boredom, and though you weren’t drunk you felt significantly warmer and a little more confident.

“Oh, it’s you again.” A voice says. You turn to see it’s Paige and your heart skips a beat.

“I have a name.” You reply, not caring if you come off rude. She doesn’t seem to care either, just raising her eyebrows at you. “And it is?”

You tell her your name and she repeats it to herself with a smile. “I’m Paige.”

“I figured.” You laugh. The alcohol was making everything seem like less of a deal, had you talked to her more before you probably wouldn’t have been so casual.

“You drunk?” She asks, leaning against the counter across from you. At this angle you’re pretty much looking down at her, she looks cuter with her eyes wide and head tilted slightly upwards. You almost let your imagination get ahead of you.

“Getting there. You?”

Paige shakes her head no. “You don’t seem like much of a drinker.”

With a shrug, you say “This party is less fun than I thought it would be.”

“I’m gonna head outside if you’re tryna come.” She shrugs back.

You hop off of the counter and are reminded of the fact that Paige isn’t short. She seems happy that she’s not looking up at you anymore.

“Sure, why not.” You smile.

She leads you to the backyard and the sudden quiet is surprising. The music is muffled and the air is fresher, it’s a beautiful night and the yard is empty for the two of you. Paige heads straight for the pool, sitting down by the edge of the deep end and taking off her shoes, letting her legs dangle in the water. You join her and do the same.

“So you came to a party and you’re not drinking or getting high?” You ask her.

“Ah ah,” she smirks. “I’m getting high for sure, jus had to be a little sneaky. You can keep a secret, right?” Paige tilts her head at you, and you almost melt right there and then.

“I’m great at keeping secrets.” You eye her, tilting your head like she does. “But can all those people?” You gesture to the kids inside the house.

“Everyone in there is gonna be too drunk to remember me sneaking out for a blunt with a girl.” She finally breaks eye contact, reaching into her pocket for a tin of pre-rolled blunts.

She said ‘with a girl’ like her being with you could be a topic of conversation. The thought makes your mind race.

When Paige lights up and gets the first hit, her whole composure loosens.

The blue from the pool water reflecting onto her face, the slight glow of the blunt against her lips, the way she blows the smoke afterwards. It’s driving you insane.

You stare at your legs in the water, her pale ones next to yours. The night is beautiful. She’s beautiful. You wonder if she’ll remember anything tomorrow.

“Want sum?” Paige interrupts your thoughts, holding out the blunt. You know you shouldn’t mix weed with alcohol, but your heart is buzzing and her lips had already been on it, so you can’t say no.

Taking it from her nimble fingers (which you cursed yourself for even noticing) you inhale, letting the smoke fill you up before letting out a long breath, trying to ignore her sharp eyes on you.

“I’m surprised I haven’t noticed you around before.” She says, taking back the blunt. You let the statement linger in the air. For every hit you take, she takes three. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are already slightly pink.

“Are you not the noticing type?” You ask.

Paige’s eyes meet yours. “Are you?”

You laugh and take the blunt from her, holding the smoke in before tilting your head back and blowing it into the night sky.

“I notice a lot of things.” you say, glancing at her lips before meeting her eyes again.

“Oh yeah?” She says quietly, analyzing your features. If it weren’t for the drinks and the weed, you would’ve felt like prey under her watch.

“Yeah.” You match her tone.

She’s closer than you remember her being. The air smells like weed and chlorine, but she smells like summer.

Nobody says anything, you just keep passing the blunt.

“What was your first time getting high like?” You ask her.

“Freshman year, me and some other girls on my team decided we were gonna do it together.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Don’t know why we started with edibles, but we were still high the next morning.”

“Oh shit.” You laugh.

“Yeah,” she huffs “and we had practice that afternoon, must’ve gone through like 3 bottles of eye drops each. What about you?”

“Senior year of high school.” You cringe and she smiles at your expression. “My girlfriend- at the time, was kind of addicted. Didn’t seem like a big deal then, but she begged me to smoke and I did. It was whatever.”

“Girlfriend?” She asks.

“You’re surprised?” You chuckle. “Shit, you really don’t notice anything.”

“Shut up.” She flicks your shoulder. “Any girlfriend now?”

“Fuck no.”

“I feel that.” She blows smoke into the crisp air. There’s a moment of comfortable silence, you looking into the water and her looking at you, before she finally says “Can I try something?”

“Like what?” You ask.

You can tell her thinking is slightly hazy, she’s moving slower and her eyes are tired, it’s attractive.

“Lemme jus show you…don’t freak.”

Paige takes a hit, then leans into you. In an instance her lips are on yours, prying you open and exhaling smoke into your mouth, then she pulls away. You resist the urge to choke, but manage to exhale smoothly. Your lips tingle where she made contact with you, and you feel your face get red at her expression. Paige is practically entranced.

“Little warning would’ve been better next time.” You cough.

“We can try again if you want.” She smirks, and you roll your eyes.

Once again Paige takes a hit then leans into you, this time placing her hand on your face. She huffs the smoke inside your mouth and you gladly take it, now knowing what to expect. When she pulls away you don’t turn your head, you just blow out the smoke, letting it cloud both your vision and hers. When it clears she’s staring dead at your lips.

Her lips meet yours again, this time without any weed. She’s taking her time with you, tongue exploring your mouth attentively, one hand still on your face while the other finds your thigh.

Her hands are calloused and controlled against your skin, her glasses bump your face as you kiss her. Her lips are soft.

You let your hands wander too, dancing under her black t-shirt and gripping her waist. You can feel her abs, toned from her athletic lifestyle. You can only imagine the things you could do with her abs alone.

Her hand leaves your thigh and meets yours under her shirt, gripping your wrist she guides you to her sports bra, letting you get under it and feel her breasts.

She sighs into your mouth when you lightly pinch her nipples, her usually confident voice now almost needy.

Paige’s kisses trail down to your neck, licking and biting into your soft skin. You let your fingers ghost against her until they reach the waistband of her sweatshorts.

“Can I?” You whisper, eager to feel her.

“Fuck, yes.” She murmurs against you, sucking beautifully painted hickeys from your neck to your collarbone.

When your fingers rub her through her boxers you can hear her breathing change, and it’s doing things to you. Rubbing slow circles on her clit, you feel yourself getting wet.

“You let every girl down your pants, Paige?” You mumble. She stares up at you, eyes wide and bloodshot.

You relish in the way she bites her lip when your pace quickens, you can feel her slick through the boxer briefs and you can’t help but tease her. “So wet already…”

Finally you let your hand slip into her briefs, finding her entrance and teasing around her hole. Her hips jerk upwards, giving you room to move, offering herself to you. “Stop talking.” She grumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

You connect with her lips again as your fingers finally dip inside of her, causing her to let a soft moan out. You realize suddenly that anyone inside the house could come outside and see you two, but with all the weed and alcohol you couldn’t care less, you couldn’t stop now, not when Paige was grinding against your fingers and letting out sweet whimpers into your mouth, her hands feeling you all over.

Breaking the kiss is the best decision you make, because you can actually see her. Her face is perfect, hair falling out of her bun, glasses sliding down her nose, her expression a sexy, needy pout, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

You pick up the pace, pumping your fingers in and out of her and grinning as her whimpers get a little louder. The noise of her slick, her voice, the crickets outside and the muffled music is almost magical to you. Her blue eyes shining and glossy from the weed and the reflection of the water.

“Fuck.” She murmurs, covering her mouth. “Oh, fuck.”

Her hips are violently bucking now as you curl your fingers inside of her and use your thumb to apply pressure to her clit. Her eyes are screwed shut now, and you can tell she’s close.

“Gonna cum for me Paige? Cmon baby, let it out.”

She calls out your name, legs open and pussy throbbing against your fingers. Finally she loosens around you, reaching her orgasm.

She’s still clinging to your body and catching her breath when you pull your hand out from her shorts, licking your fingers like you’ve just finished a meal. Paige’s eyes are trained on your lips wrapped around the same digits that were just inside of her.

You just smile at her staring. “You good?” You ask her. She just chuckles and takes off her shirt. “I’m good. Might needa cool down though.” Paige eyes you as she slips into the pool.

You laugh and take your shirt off too, slipping into the cold water with her.

It’s a good night, filling your lungs with her, breathing Paige in.

[genderkoolaid]

Part fiction and part documentary, filmmaker Jules Rosskham has created a fascinating hybrid cinema model. It’s a jarring and bizarre mix of mediums that explores real people who deserve to have their stories told and preserved. In the film, an Iranian American trans man named Ahmad (Aden Hakimi) time-travels with the help of a fantastical bathhouse that’s been transformed into an archive of queer experience. He’s on a mission to reveal the daring sexual secrets of his past and to remember the loves and encounters that he’s left behind. It’s an erotic, trans-masc phantasmagoria, a fever dream where he encounters Kieran (Theo Germaine), an archivist of queer memories. Soon, Kieran’s own past and existence become braided into the trans history on display within the more formal documentary segments of the film. [...] [...] The most important facet of the film comes when we are transported back to the late 1980s to witness real footage of trans activist Lou Sullivan, who himself shined a light on the existence of gay trans men when nobody else was. Sullivan was possibly the very first trans man to publically exist as a homosexual, and was responsible for a lot of education and activism surrounding his community. While the entirety of Desire Lines was fascinating to behold, it was the moments I was able to hear and learn directly from Sullivan, who died at 39 from AIDS, that I found to be the most incredible part of this unique journey.