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If you're having a private phone conversation with the phone off your ear, no headphones, and the speaker on in public, that's a public conversation now. That's an open invite, and I'm going to chime in if I have an opinion. This is now OUR disagreement about your boyfriend's spending habits.

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statements like "It's wrong to masturbate about a person without their consent" and "It's wrong to do something that quietly arouses you while you are in public even if no one can see it" show that a person's understanding of morality basically involves magical thinking. like I wrote this post on the toilet. That's not the same thing as me literally shitting on you

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Trans women are women. Pass it on.

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Missouri Moseley is so fucking funny I forgot how much I adore her.

Deadass my face looks like Sam's everytime she scolds Dean it is so funny to watch.

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Eric Bogosian working with Associate Artists at ACA, 2003

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"Live long and prosper, dude." Via thriftstoreart

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The cameras were still rolling on "The Birdcage" when Robin Williams pulled Nathan Lane aside between takes. Nathan had just finished a particularly tense scene. He was anxious, his timing had faltered slightly, and his usual control felt off. Robin leaned in and whispered, “You were perfect. I just added chaos. That’s what I do.” Nathan smiled, a little caught off guard. Robin’s words didn’t come like notes from a co-star, but like an arm around the shoulder, silent, kind, and full of permission to breathe.

Filming began in early 1995 at Miami’s Cardozo Hotel and soundstages in Los Angeles. "The Birdcage", directed by Mike Nichols, was a comedy built on flamboyance and theatrical flair, yet layered with emotional vulnerability. On screen, Robin played Armand Goldman, a gay cabaret owner trying to pass for conservative straight to please his son's fiancée's parents. Nathan Lane, as the exuberant Albert, Armand’s partner and drag performer, brought flamboyant wit mixed with aching sensitivity. Their chemistry lit up the film, but it was their off-screen connection that gave the performance its emotional core.

Robin walked onto set carrying more than just scripts. Behind his trademark improvisation was the quiet grief of personal losses and ongoing mental health struggles. He was navigating emotional pain with humor as his lifeline. Nathan, on the other hand, was living with a deep fear. He hadn’t come out publicly and lived in quiet dread that the spotlight could expose what he wasn’t yet ready to share. He later said in interviews that the fear was constant during production. But when Robin stood next to him, that fear softened.

Crew members often recalled moments between takes when Robin would launch into absurd improv routines, not for the camera but for Nathan. A sound technician once described how Robin stood on a table and did a full Shakespearean monologue in the voice of Elmer Fudd, simply because Nathan had flubbed a line and looked close to tears. That single moment broke the tension, made the whole room laugh, and brought Nathan back into himself. These weren’t just jokes. They were quiet acts of care.

Nathan’s attention to detail and his need for control came from years of hiding his authentic self in plain sight. Robin never asked him about it directly. He didn’t need to. Instead, he listened, showed up, and created a space where Nathan could feel seen without explanation. Their late-night conversations, often taking place over coffee in the makeup trailer or walks around the studio lot, were filled with stories, insecurities, and mutual admiration. Nathan once said, “Robin had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. And then he’d make the whole room laugh, and you’d wonder how one person could hold that much light.”

Filming wrapped with both men knowing they had done something more than act. They had held each other up. And in a Hollywood that could often feel isolating, especially for queer actors, Nathan walked away with more than a role. He had found someone who understood the weight of performance, not just for the screen but for survival.

When Robin passed in 2014, Nathan’s tribute came with no flourish, no long stories. Just a handful of sentences, quietly powerful. “He saved me in ways I didn’t even understand until he was gone. Working with him felt like being wrapped in a blanket, warm, chaotic, and comforting.”

What began as two actors cast in a comedy became something infinitely deeper. In a set filled with lights and laughter, two men found a private place of trust where grief, fear, and joy were shared quietly, wordlessly, and without condition.

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Oh Dean. Dean, who called his autistic husband to open up and ask him for advice on how to deal with his freshly resurrected mother. Darling. He knew Cas would be garbage at that but he asked and he grimaced at the terrible advice because just hearing Cas on the phone makes him feel better

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how it feels to recognise the horror in the mundane

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parallels that make you go “wow this is a show about pleading with/yelling at your disappointing god”

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Every poll on this blog is about fictional characters only. This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

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I’m finally back with some finished art! Everyone say thank you to the discord for helping me out and convincing me to finish this one 💕

I’ll have at least two more versions of this drawing to post later, so look out for those!

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i was here; i have touched these limbs

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Yeah, I’m thinking of you. You scrolling Tumblr to escape your country’s facism and cuddle in fictional characters who helped piece together your identity. You writing a novel that’s secretly a queer metaphor. You in Palestine, Ukraine, Russia, China, Singapore, and my beautiful Vietnam. You in red states and small towns that are swallowing you whole. You stuck in Church basements drowning in positive affirmations meant to change you. You on Grindr and Pornhub trying to be a man. You in a library picking up Flamer, Drama, and Nimona for the first time. You on Queering the Map venting a heartbreak. You kneeling and praying to something you don’t believe. You in the ground because the world was not kind, but you were. You in the chrysalis who deserves to emerge. You who are old and thought things would be better. You who are artists and you who are leaders and you who love and fuck and exude color and life. 

I’m thinking of you.