#and I don't want to be the judge of that

[do-you-know-this-queer-character]

For reference if you're a non Warcraft fan or haven't been keeping up with WoW, Warcraft has blatantly racially coded fantasy races like the trolls have jamaican accents, wear tiki masks and grass skirts, and practice voodoo in Jungles, whilst the tauren (Minotaurs) have feather headdress, smoke peace pipes, have totem poles and tepees, ETC.

Warcraft's so called new "woke" writers have doubled down on the "PoC coded monsters are evil" stuff with the very few good characters from those races being depicted as the "good ones" because they reject the savage ways of their people and side with white humans.

They've also whitewashed any bad actions from white characters.

Around the same time, Mathias Shaw was confirmed as gay, we got 2021's Shadowlands where:

There was a story with the pure and good white colonizers vs the completely evil savage natives that deserved to be wiped out because they didn't want to share.

Confirmation that the gods that the white races worshipped were real, whilst the gods of the tauren and other PoC coded races were fake.

An afterlife where all spirits are converted to bodies resembling caucasian humans.

A POC coded character (Zul'jin) that fought against the white colonizers that stole his land and treat his people as vermin to be exterminated, being one of the only characters being sent to Hell, whilst white characters whom did far worse weren't.

Real world revered voodoo loa Dambala being depicted as a God of evil that players are sent to kill.

So I think more people should've voted negatively on Mathias Shaw because whilst the character himself isn't racist, he's closely associated with horrible racist writing that thought throwing a white gay character in to their broke ass script script would somehow make it "woke".

I encourage people to interpret the poll options in whatever way they want, whether that's the character's writing, the strength of the representation, or their overall feelings on the media. I've talked about this before, but at the end of the day I am not trying to be an arbiter of what media is good and what's not, because I am simply not qualified to be. I sincerely appreciate when people send in asks like this detailing the issues with a piece of media so that other people can be more aware in the future. All posts like this are tagged with "media critical"!

[framblebee]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE 1x1 In Throes of Increasing Wonder

—However misshapen they may be, your brother has no shame in sharing [his thoughts]. —You sayin' I got shame? —The lie you told about leaving the opera house early.

[raileurta]

I was reading some transformers fanfiction and it's a solely underutilized idea to have humans and Cybertronians be in a symbiotic relationship. In nature all the time big animals will rely on smaller animals' help.

For example humans could give repairs, clean them, and help them reach smaller places. Cybertronians can give transportation and protection of course. They're emotional benefits too; humans are really nice soft things to touch and humans like having big robot friends :3.

So I'm imagining transformers realize how useful it is to have a human partner around so they start going around trying to get one. Anyways this leads to shenanigans of course and a lot of cracky moments.

Suspiciously nice looking car in a driveway with its door opened: ....

The random human who owns the driveway: ...

Human: *turns around* Screw that! I'm not becoming part of the human distribution system today, no sir I am not.

Cybertronian: *sad beeping noises*

[thebearme]

A lil comic based off the scarlet shredder

[623-74x]

fun first date ideas for you and your man

[lazylittledragon]

i'm in one of those phases where i really wish i believed in manifesting and spellcasting and things like that bc you know when you want something so bad you're literally praying for the universe to let it happen

[thatonekimgirl]

Jordan Chiles finding out she won the Bronze medal on Floor || Olympics 2024

[125bluemachine125]

I have the need to read a Rom-com where Reader and Bruce have been raising the kids together but aren’t in a relationship. She is his assistant, a good friend if you stretch it, and the tension has been visible to everyone. Bruce knows that she knows he is Batman, but they’ve never acknowledged it. They are so committed to maintaining a good work dynamic that their feelings have remained unspoken.

The kids want them to be together, but both are so stuck in their dynamic that no plan works. Even the old ladies of society have bets on when himbo Brucie Wayne will realize he has a winner at his side. They absolutely take offense when manwhore Bruce Wayne invites another lady to a gala.

“I don't know how you keep up with him, sweetheart.”

Reader thinks they’re talking about work, but the ladies just keep glaring at Wayne (sometimes even Jason joins them. Bruce has a hate club? He's in).

Here’s where the K-drama plot twist comes in: she sends in her two weeks’ notice. Bruce is devastated, trying to throw money at the problem, and everyone thinks she’s quitting because she’s tired of cleaning up Bruce’s mess and waiting for a man who’s never told her he’s in love with her. But that’s not it; Reader has finally reached her money goal and is retiring 15 years ahead of schedule! She’s going to travel and drink so many daiquiris!

Even after she shares her plan, everyone insists she’s leaving because of heartbreak. But she’s fine! Yes, she loves her boss, but she never deceived herself into thinking they’d start a relationship. She loves him, but her life doesn’t revolve around that. She’s perfectly fine on her own.

So while she’s at her happiest, Bruce is at his lowest. Still, he does nothing, because he believes she’s better off without him.

What makes Bruce get his act together?

“Where are you going, kids? And in tuxedos?”

“God, you never listen!"

" To the wedding. Jason is walking Reader to the altar.”

Bruce? devastated.

The kids? confused by his reaction while Cassandra signs to hurry up.

It’s not a real wedding; it’s a school project, a short film for Damian’s art class. None of the other moms from his classmates wanted to be filmed, so of course he asked Reader. She has acted like their mom at school events for years.

While everyone enjoys the day filming, Bruce is spiraling, gripped by a fierce need to disrupt the wedding... but does Reader even love him? He knows he hasn’t been fair, dating other women and expecting Reader to always be there.

But this is nothing like the two weeks’ notice. He at least had the assurance she’d stay in his life through the kids. But a wedding? That’s it... if she marries is over, it’s really over.

Before he knows it, he’s running, takes his fastest car, and calls Barbara, begging for the kids’ location. (She’s so confused by the urgency; didn’t anyone tell him where the shoot was?)

So Bruce Thomas Wayne storms into the church barefoot, in sweatpants, a white T-shirt, messy hair, and screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I love you! I’ve always loved you! Please don’t leave me...”

A loud noise resounds. Reader’s wedding dress starts to turn red with blood, and Bruce loses it, screaming for someone to call 911. He gathers her in his arms, ugly crying, begging her to forgive him, to stay with him.

“Damn it, Father! You ruined the scene!”

They were filming a horror film.

“Please tell me you filmed everything!” hollers Jason. “The old crones are gonna love this!”

“Does this mean Bruce is a pick me girl?” asks Duke.

“Nah, this means he is an idiot,” answered Stephanie.

Cass just kept giggling quietly with a big smile.

“I waited years for this!” proclaimed Dick in tears.

Tim? He just sips his coffee, satisfied that Damian asked him to be his photography director, because sure as hell he got all the right angles.

So while Bruce is catching that all this is a production, Reader is laughing in his arms with delight.

“I love you too, Bruce.”

The kids know he is gonna forgive the humiliation, because the next thing the camera is filming is both of them kissing.

So while Reader doesn’t get to take her long trip, she ends up drinking daiquiris with Bruce on their honeymoon.

[cassiepoppy45]

Hear me out...

This, but Huntlow.

[op-dumpstertruck]

Can we just get to the reunion art please? Hurts my heart so much

~~I love it but also whyyyyy~~

Sure :)

Zoro has an out-of-body experience, Kuina was the one who got out and is now finally home again and the stawhats 100% made quite the ruckus, so little eggplant was quite scared. This will eventually end well, but I never said the reunion would be fluffy :o)

[siratonin]

this is a mess, written directly into the tumblr app lmao, but it wouldn’t leave my head so here... have it. post 8x15, cw: grief, canon mcd

It was past midnight. Maybe closer to two. That hollow hour where the city curled into itself—too late for night, too early for morning—and even the birds hadn’t begun to stir.

He sat slouched on the couch, shoulders caved in, like he could fold himself small enough to disappear. The beer in his hand—fourth? fifth?—had gone warm, but he held it anyway. The TV played something pointless, volume low, just enough to fill the room with something that wasn’t silence.

Not that it helped. The real noise was in his head.

Bobby’s voice hadn’t left him. “You’ll be okay, Buck. They’re gonna need you.” Said like it was simple. Like Buck’s world didn’t collapse on itself. He’d replayed that moment so many times it burned behind his eyes. all He could think was—how do you stay standing when the person who kept you grounded is the one who’s gone?

Maddie’s voice followed after, soft, pleading, “You don’t have to be okay right now, Buck. You just have to let yourself feel it.”

But he didn’t want to. Couldn’t. Because feeling it meant naming it. And naming it meant breaking apart.

Too much.

Everyone felt like they were slipping, like the world had tilted and no one knew how to catch their balance again. Buck didn’t either. So he didn’t try. He sat. He drank. He told himself he was fine. Numb was easier. Numb was safe.

But even that was starting to splinter at the edges.

So he stayed still. Let it all swirl inside—grief, guilt, confusion, anger—tangled so tightly he couldn’t tell one from the other. He didn’t cry. Didn’t scream—not again, not yet—He just sat there, breathing in static and beer fumes, whispering the same thing over and over in his mind,

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll try again.

Tomorrow he’d be better. He’d hold it together. He’d be who Bobby believed he could be. Tomorrow, he’d show up for everyone again.

But tonight—tonight he just needed to hold it together long enough to survive the quiet.

Too much. Too loud.

Until a knock shattered it.

Not loud—just enough to cut through the fog.

He blinked slowly toward the door. Didn’t move.

Another knock. This one didn’t ask. It forced him to get up.

“…Tommy?”

Tommy stood there, jacket zipped, windblown, eyes soft, worried.

“Hi,” he said, breathless. “Thank god… I tried calling you, Evan. A lot. You weren’t answering.”

Buck stared. Not surprised. Not upset. Just… tired. He looked at Tommy like one might look at a dream they’d almost forgotten.

All he could think was how badly he wanted to crawl inside Tommy’s ribs and stay there—where it was warm and safe and beating.

But he didn’t say that.

He didn’t say anything.

He just stepped back, left the door open, and leaned against the back of the couch.

Tommy lingered a moment before asking, careful, “Can I come in?”

Buck shrugged, eyes flicking away. Voice too thin to use.

Tommy stepped in, shut the door behind him, and slowly made his way to Buck’s side. His gaze fell to the cluster of beer bottles on the table. He didn’t comment.

Instead, he asked, “How are you doing?”

That made Buck laugh—a hollow, breathless thing. “How am I supposed to answer that?” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

Tommy nodded, didn’t press, but stayed near.

Buck gave more shrugs. One for every question.

“Have you eaten anything?”

Shrug.

“Are you sleeping at all?”

Shrug.

“Did you even talk to anyone today?”

Another shrug. He didn’t even bother pretending to think about it.

Buck didn’t look at him. Just let the words hang in the thick air between them, one hand tightening around the neck of his beer like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Tommy exhaled slowly, like he was trying to hold something in—something fragile and fraying.

“I gave you time,” he said softly. “Told myself maybe you needed space. But, Evan…” He stepped closer, just a little. “It’s been days. You weren’t answering anyone. I-I had to come.”

Tommy’s next breath was sharper. Pushed to the edge of fear. “Will you answer me instead of just shrugging everything away?”

Buck’s jaw twitched. He looked up at Tommy like the question was too sharp to forgive.

“Why?” His voice cracked, low and bitter. “What do you want me to say?”

He gestured vaguely—at the room, the bottles, maybe even himself.

“Of course I’m not okay. But I’ll get over it, right? That’s what people do. They move on.” He shook his head. “What do you expect from me, Tommy?”

Tommy’s hand half-lifted, like he was going to reach for him. Then dropped.

“I want you to talk to me. I’m trying, Evan. I’ve been trying to reach you, and you keep running.”

Buck scoffed. Bit down the anger rising under his skin. That sting blooming behind his eyes wasn’t anger—it was something worse.

“…Ironic, huh?”

Tommy didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile.

“Evan... I’m worried.”

That. That broke something.

“No…” Buck said, shaking his head, almost childlike.

Buck slid down the couch, spine curling, breath hitching—like the act of staying upright had finally become too much. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, like he could shove the feeling back in before it escaped.

Tommy followed him, kneeling, close but not touching.

Waiting.

“No…” he whispered, barely audible. “I have to be strong. They need me.”

Tommy moved closer, voice low and warm. “Sweetheart, you are strong. That doesn’t mean you don’t get to feel things.”

Buck shook his head, sharp and frantic. “No, Tommy. No. If I…” His breath hitched again. “If I let myself—i-if I feel this, I won’t be strong. I won’t be anything.”

He looked up at Tommy then, glassy-eyed and terrified. Not of what had happened. Of what was still inside him, waiting to be felt.

Tommy's expression broke. He reached out, just to offer.

“Oh, Evan,” he said, voice catching. “You will be. I swear to you, you will be. But right now? At this moment? I don’t need you to be strong. You don’t have to hold it all alone. You can let go if you need to. I’m here. I’m right here.”

There was a long silence. One that stretched between them, breathless and trembling. Like Buck had seen some kind of opening—like he wanted to step through it.

But instead, he squeezed his eyes shut again. Tighter. As if doing so might stop everything from spilling out.

“No…”

And then, finally, like it cost him everything

“I can’t,” Buck whispered. “If I lean on you… if I let myself break… and you leave—if you leave me—I won’t be able to pull myself back together.”

Tommy’s breath hitched.

Buck’s eyes were shining now, glassy and unfocused. “You show up, and I’m so thankful—so damn grateful… but Tommy—” His voice broke around the name. “I need someone to stay.”

His voice cracked then, thin and trembling, every syllable held together by the last thread of his strength.

Tommy reached out, hand resting gently on Buck’s arm.

“I won’t leave.”

Buck looked at him, disbelief painted in every line of his face.

“Yeah?” he asked, so quietly, like he barely dared to hope.

“I promise you, Evan,” Tommy said, firm, no hesitation. “If you let me, if you allow me to stay, I promise I will never leave.”

Buck wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to. He needed it.

But he shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut like the hope itself was too much.

Tommy’s hand stayed firm.

“Evan… I never made promises before. Not to you” He swallowed. “But I’m making one now.”

And maybe it was that—the honesty. The raw, trembling truth in Tommy’s voice. The fact of it.

Maybe Buck believed him.

Because he didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

His fingers loosened around the bottle without realizing it. The beer slipped from his hand, hit the floor with a soft thud, and tipped—its contents spilling, seeping slowly into the rug.

But Buck didn’t look down.

A tear slipped down his cheek. Just one. Quiet. Unnoticed, maybe even by him.

Tommy saw it.

He moved gently, carefully—like he was stepping into a space sacred and fragile—and slid closer. Then, without a word, he reached out and pulled Buck into him.

Buck didn’t resist.

Didn’t hesitate.

The second Tommy’s arms wrapped around him, Buck collapsed.

Head pressed against Tommy’s chest, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers clutching at his shirt like a lifeline. His breath caught—hitched—and then shuddered out of him in one long, broken exhale.

Tommy could feel Buck’s heartbeat—too fast, too loud—pressed against his chest. Like even Buck’s body wanted it out, didn’t know how to hold this much pain.

And then another breath.

And then he cried.

No sobs. No wails. Just quiet, shaking grief—like something finally cracked open and couldn’t be closed again.

Tommy held him tighter, one hand moving slowly up his back, the other cradling the nape of his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice breaking with him. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s what undid him.

Buck's fingers clenched tighter in Tommy’s shirt as the words tore out of him—small and cracked and soaked in pain.

“He told me I’ll be okay, Tommy…” His voice trembled, catching on each syllable. “I’m not. I’m not okay. I never will be.”

His body shook with the force of it, like admitting it made everything real.

Like the grief had finally found its voice—and it came out sounding like him.

Tommy didn’t speak right away. He just tightened his hold, one hand steady against the back of Buck’s head, the other splayed between his shoulder blades, grounding him.

“You will be,” he murmured, barely above a breath. “Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow… but you will be, Evan. I promise you.”

Buck shook his head, a broken, desperate motion, forehead still pressed against Tommy’s chest.

“I didn’t even say goodbye. I didn’t say anything.”

“He knew, Evan,” he whispered. “I promise you—he knew.”

Tommy closed his eyes for a second, like the weight of it hit him too.

But his arms never loosened.

Tommy tightened his grip slightly, one hand smoothing up Buck’s back in slow, steady strokes.

“And you still can. Whenever you’re ready... he’ll still hear you.”

But Buck was past hearing reason.

He tried again, but nothing came out except noise. Raw, aching noise. Grief in its purest, most helpless form.

His breath hitched hard, a sob catching mid-throat before it forced its way out—ugly and sharp.

“I c-can’t—” he gasped, and then the words stopped working.

And still, Tommy held him.

He pulled Buck tighter, cradling the back of his head, rocking him just slightly—not enough to soothe, just enough to stay.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, over and over now, like a mantra. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Eventually, Buck went quieter. The sobs thinned to uneven breathing, but his lips kept moving—mumbling something, soft and broken, over and over.

Tommy leaned in, trying to hear. Couldn’t. His brows drew together.

“Evan?” he whispered, pulling back just a little, just enough to see his face.

Buck’s face was wet, flushed, crumpled with the kind of pain that didn’t know how to hide itself anymore. His eyes barely opened.

“Stay,” he said, voice hoarse, barely there. “Stay tonight and tomorrow, and just… stay, Tommy. Please.”

Tommy didn’t answer with words.

Buck curled in closer, folding into the space between Tommy’s legs, cheek pressed against his chest, body trembling but held.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the birthmark above Buck’s eye, tender and reverent.

Then he pulled him back into his arms.

The floor beneath them was hard. Unforgiving. And Tommy didn’t move.

He kissed Buck’s hair. Then again. And again.

Soft. Reassuring. Steady.

“I’m not going anywhere, Evan.”

[63cco]

he loses and seeks a hug from Sava for comfort 🥺���️

[spacetimeaccordionfolder]

please please please Dark World Butcher??? Please?? Dennis Collins again please? Snarling wolf like animal who just can't wait to get his teeth wet? But even more so?? Please?????

[vaszametili]

definitely a bear man

[maarigolds]

I was expecting many things going into The Electric State but what I was NOT expecting was gay Chris Pratt falling in love with robot Anthony Mackie and the two of them adopting Eleven from stranger things. It may be a masterpiece.

[lazylittledragon]

i think thats supposed to be about sex things but Not One Of Those, this is the fourth, fifth? couple youve given a lil baby and i think you maybe love lil babys

i too, give the Characters lil babys, because i love them

as well as the myriad of Situations it puts the blorbos in

fourth or fifth publicly/in recent memory, i've been doing it for Years in art i haven't posted akfdhdjhd

i do just really love putting them in Situations you're right