#Allied Race?

[monets-slumber-party]

Brennan: I got back with an ex 9 TIMES. Kim Chi: Was it the puss-puss? 😹

[seanflnnerty]

[tiklishgirl]

These five people in the same room is gonna KILL ME

[subbanator]

iT's ThE CuP, GirL

[navysealt4t]

"i couldn't care less. whatever she wants to be is okay with me" omg ally ❤

[transform4u]

Waking up to the GothamEnlighten App

Alan sat stiffly on the hotel bed, his demeanor rigid and disapproving as he scrolled through Grindr with a critical eye. His white button-up shirt and meticulously tailored suit conveyed an aura of primness and control, starkly contrasting with the chaotic energy of New York City that seeped through the windows.

"Ugh… too fat… ugh too femm… ugh… there's no way he's a top," he muttered disdainfully, dismissing profiles with a flick of his thumb. Each rejection was punctuated by a derisive tap of his phone screen: Brrrrup! "Ugh, no Mexicans!" he sent with a cocky smile, followed by muttered complaints about the diversity of men in the city. Brrrrup! "Ew. there's no way I'm hooking up with a dirty Arab!" he hissed. Brrrrup! Brrrrup! Brrrrup! Brrrrup! Brrrrup! Brrrrup! Brrrrup!

Alan was an enigma of sorts in his own right—a gay man who staunchly identified as a Republican, aligning himself with conservative values even as he navigated the complexities of his sexuality. Raised in Texas, he found solace in the familiar landscapes and cultural norms of his upbringing, viewing them as a bastion of what he deemed "real American values."

To him, New York City was an assault on everything he held dear. The cacophony of languages, the litter-strewn streets, and the perceived lack of order grated against his sensibilities. In his mind, this concrete jungle was a far cry from the rugged plains and prairies of home, where, despite its challenges, he felt a sense of belonging among those who shared his background and beliefs.

Alan epitomized a privileged, narrow-minded perspective within the gay community—an individual who adhered strictly to his own standards of acceptability, rejecting anyone who didn't fit his idealized image.

An intrusive ad suddenly popped up on Grindr: "Looking for the perfect New York night? Let GothamEnlighten help." Alan's attempts to dismiss it were futile; the ad persisted, appearing repeatedly until he reluctantly clicked "accept," his confusion palpable.

A sudden static shock coursed through Alan's body from his phone, causing him to flinch involuntarily. His screen flashed with frenetic activity, numbers and images cascading as if his digital life was being laid bare.

His Instagram feed revealed a carefully curated façade: images of Alan at conservative gatherings and high-society events in Texas, always impeccably dressed and surrounded by like-minded individuals. The posts projected an image of success and conformity, carefully cultivated to reinforce his status within his chosen circles.

On Twitter, Alan's posts and tweets echoed his disdain for "woke culture" and his grievances about the changes he perceived in society. His timeline was a testament to his unwavering adherence to traditional values and his resistance to any form of progress that challenged his worldview.

Abruptly, the phone's screen went black, plunging Alan into a momentary void. Then, a luminous green progress bar appeared with the word "Processing."

Alan felt an overwhelming heaviness settle upon him, as if the weight of his own prejudices and insecurities was pressing down upon his shoulders. His expensive suit and tie began to disintegrate piece by piece, unraveling until he was left in nothing but his designer underwear—stripped bare of his armor of privilege.

His head throbbed with a pulsating intensity, each throb a reminder of the internal conflict he had long suppressed. Instinctively, he began to massage his temples, seeking relief from the mounting pressure.

Memories of his upbringing in Texas as a gay man began to surface, intertwined with the ache in his head. The struggles, the fear of rejection, the compromises made to fit into a society that often felt hostile and unwelcoming—they all resurfaced, unbidden.

As Alan sat on the hotel bed, his initial chuckle was low and restrained, but it softened gradually as something stirred within him. Memories that had long been buried beneath layers of disdain and conformity began to resurface, bubbling up from the depths of his subconscious.

He remembered the streets of New York, where he had once walked as a boy, navigating the crowds and absorbing the vibrant, eclectic culture around him. He recalled the public school he attended, where the education was far from stellar but where he had discovered a deep passion for art and music. His hands, resting on his lap, began to move as if strumming an invisible guitar, fingers dancing over imaginary strings.

As these memories flooded back, a series of tattoos seemed to materialize on his skin, intricate designs that told stories of rebellion and creativity. His expression shifted subtly, his face transforming as more memories wove themselves into the fabric of his consciousness.

Gone was the rigid, uptight demeanor. Instead, a smile began to spread across his face—a genuine, inviting smile that revealed perfect teeth and softened his features. A beard and stubble started to grow on his jaw, framing a face that was becoming more handsome by the moment. His plain, average countenance seemed to rewind in time, settling into the visage of a 23-year-old with eyes that sparkled with newfound clarity and depth.

Those eyes, now piercing and intense, seemed to see through pretense and into the soul of anyone who met his gaze. Meanwhile, a pair of tight, skinny jeans began to hug his legs, muscles forming beneath his skin as if sculpted by his newfound sense of self. His feet, seemingly larger and more rugged, gave off a faint odor, a mix of Axe body spray and a distinct aroma of pot, hinting at a carefree lifestyle he had once shunned.

He chuckled again, this time with a sense of liberation and amusement, as he embraced the person he had buried deep inside—the young, spirited soul who had once roamed the streets of New York with a guitar in hand and dreams in his heart.

A chant began to echo in his head—a vivid memory from a time when he marched proudly in a women's march, waving a rainbow flag and chanting for gay rights. But as the memory replayed, something felt amiss. The edges of the memory blurred, and scenes of nervously asking a boy out on Grindr faded away, replaced by images of him standing alongside his LGBTQ+ friends as a staunch straight ally.

He recalled how he had tried to connect with other men on Grindr, attempting to fit into a mold that never quite felt right. Eventually, he had come to terms with his true identity and courageously came out to his friends as straight during his Senior year. The revelation had been met with unwavering support from his liberal and open-minded circle—they understood him, they celebrated him, and they embraced him.

With each passing moment, Alan's heart swelled with empathy, a newfound compassion that extended to every living creature. He vividly remembered adopting a strict vegan lifestyle, guided by his deepening respect for all beings and a growing awareness of environmental issues. His demeanor shifted from uptight to carefree, embracing a goofball nature that had long been suppressed.

In his mind's eye, Alan saw himself as he truly was—a person who respected others, who valued diversity, and who cherished the connections he had forged with people of all backgrounds and orientations. As this realization settled within him, a transformation swept over his physical form. A deep, dark brown tan enveloped his body, symbolizing a shedding of old identities and a rebirth into a new understanding of himself.

Gone was the rigid, buttoned-up exterior. In its place stood a man who radiated warmth and acceptance, embodying the principles of inclusivity and love that he had come to embrace. Alan's journey of self-discovery had led him not only to accept others but also to embrace his own authenticity with a newfound sense of joy and fulfillment.

As the deep, rich tan washed over Alan, memories flooded back with surprising clarity. He remembered being raised by his abuela in a cozy one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, surrounded by the vibrant hustle and bustle of the city. In this upbringing, Alan had embraced a total "straight softboy" persona, guided by his abuela's teachings to always show respect and kindness to women.

Over time, Alan had evolved into a hopeless romantic, yearning to find connection and love. He recalled his earnest attempts at dating women, only to face disappointment when they found him too sensitive or not masculine enough for their tastes. Despite these setbacks, Alan remained steadfast in his belief that treating women with respect and tenderness was paramount.

His heritage as a Mexican-American became a source of pride and identity. Alan cherished the traditions instilled by his abuela—family gatherings filled with delicious homemade food, lively music, and a strong work ethic. He spent his days working hard at his Tio's restaurant, learning the art of cooking and hospitality that defined his community.

Alan's path led him to NYU, where he earned a full scholarship in music production. It was here, amidst the creative energy of New York City, that he truly found his voice. Nights were spent with friends, drinking, smoking pot, and pouring his heart into love ballads and rock songs that reflected his romantic soul.

Alan's transformation began with a dull ache spreading throughout his body, as if every cell was undergoing a profound change. He looked down, startled to see fat dissolving from his frame, reshaping into lean muscle that glistened with a sheen of sweat. His once chubby, soft body morphed before his eyes, revealing a muscular physique that seemed sculpted by determination and resilience.

Standing in the dimly lit room, Alan leaned against the wall, crossing his muscular arms over a chest adorned with a tapestry of tattoos. Each inked design told a story—bold geometric patterns interwoven with intricate images of cultural symbolism. Against his warm olive skin, the tattoos pulsed with life, vibrant against the subdued lighting.

His arms, now taut with sinewy muscles, flexed subtly as he shifted his weight. Veins traced their way along his forearms, a testament to the strength that lay beneath his bronzed complexion. Faded scars crisscrossed his skin, souvenirs of past battles that added to his rugged charm and hinted at a life fully lived.

The tattoos continued their journey across his broad chest, weaving around his collarbones and down towards his abdomen. Each motif seemed to flow seamlessly, enhancing the contours of his muscular physique and highlighting his newfound physical strength.

Alan's face, framed by tousled waves of grungy hair, bore the rugged lines of a man who had weathered storms. His jawline was strong and defined, accentuated by a hint of stubble that added to his masculine allure. Dark eyes, intense and piercing, scanned the room with a mix of confidence and aloofness, commanding attention with their magnetic gaze. As pulled out his phone trying to find the perfect--mate? girlfriend? lover? He wasn't sure.

Alan stumbled upon a profile that immediately caught his eye. Her name was Luna, and her bio read "Afro-Latina feminist artist and activist." Her feed was filled with powerful portraits of women from diverse backgrounds, along with thoughtful captions about intersectional feminism and social justice issues.

Luna's profile picture showed her standing confidently in front of a mural she had painted - it depicted a group of strong, empowered women holding hands across different races and cultures. Alan couldn't help but feel drawn to this incredible woman who shared so many of his values and passions. He liked every one of her posts, hoping she would notice him amidst the thousands of other followers admiring her work.

Alan's direct messages to Luna were carefully crafted, expressing his admiration for her work and aligning himself with her beliefs. He shared his own journey of self-discovery and transformation, mentioning how inspired he was by her art and activism. In response, Luna messaged back warmly but cautiously, appreciating the genuine connection they seemed to share.

As they arranged to meet in the park for a casual get-together, Alan brought along his guitar as a sign of goodwill - he hoped it would help break the ice between them. When he spotted Luna from afar underneath one of the trees, she was engrossed in her phone screen; unphased by anything else around her.

He strummed gently on his guitar strings as he approached closer; composing an impromptu love song specifically dedicated just for this moment…his heart pounding rapidly inside his chest with every word sung out loud: "Your eyes are like stars that guide my way / Through this chaotic world full of fray / And I swear upon everything holy / That you hold all secrets deep inside your soul."

His voice rang through clear as day across grassy fields while captivating every single bird chirping nearby too – making sure not one detail escaped unnoticed during such intimate moments shared together under sunny skies above them both! However much passion could be heard within each syllable uttered by Alan, there came another reaction quite unexpected from our fiercely independent femme fatale before him. Luna just gave a slight eye roll followed closely behind some sarcastic comment about how "this crap is kinda pathetic"

As Luna rolled her eyes at Alan's love song, he looked at her with puppy dog eyes filled with hope and longing. He wiped the sweat from his face using his shirt, revealing a muscular physique that caught Luna off guard. The sudden glimpse of masculinity ignited a spark within her, and she found herself drawn to him in ways she couldn't explain.

With each passing moment spent locked in an intense embrace, their passion grew stronger until they could barely contain themselves anymore. Their lips met once more as their tongues danced together hungrily; exploring every crevice of each other's mouths while their bodies pressed tightly against one another.

As Luna's lips found his ear and whispered "Santiago...Santiago...I want to fuck your brains out you little devil" Alan (now known as Santiago) couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the intensity of this moment. He blinked an suddenly he was in bed with Luna, in his room in a shitty, four-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn he shared with 5 other guys. His mind was clouded with desire, lust taking over any remnants of rational thought left behind after their heated encounter in the park earlier today.

Santiago grabbed onto Luna forcefully yet tenderly; his rough hands contrasting against her soft skin like sandpaper against velvet. The room reeked of marijuana smoke - a hazy veil hanging above them both as if suspended between reality and some sort of twisted fantasy world created solely for their pleasure alone! On the walls were posters featuring iconic Mexican artists like Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera; their bold brushstrokes providing an appropriate backdrop for these two passionate souls engaging in unbridled passion beneath dimly lit lights cast from an old Edison bulb dangling precariously above them…

Luna arched her back while crying out loud - signaling for more intensity which only served to fuel Santiago's fire burning inside him even brighter than before… He slammed into her harder than ever before, driving deep into places where no man had gone before – igniting sparks that illuminated not just darkness surrounding them but also lighting up whatever remained untouchable deep within themselves previously hidden away due fear or uncertainty alone! This raw animalistic fury carried on relentlessly until both were left breathless…and satisfied beyond measure…as if experiencing true love at first sight all over again.

As Luna's breasts bounced rhythmically against Santiago's chest, he couldn't help but feel a surge of masculine pride wash over him. "And you are the most beautiful lover."he whispered into her ear, his voice hoarse from passion.

Luna laughed softly before replying, "And you are---you are a good fuck Santi" Her words sent shivers down his spine - a validation that only served to fuel his desire even further.

Santiago passed out soon afterward, exhausted from their intense lovemaking session earlier in the evening. When he awoke sometime later with an empty bed beside him and a faint trace of marijuana lingering in the air around him…he lit up another joint for himself and sank back into bed with contentment etched across every feature on his face – knowing full well that while keeping hold onto such fiery tempers might prove difficult at times…at least when it came to pleasing women like Luna? Well…that part wasn't so hard after all!

[thebrightgreenscream]

Failing to combat transmasculine erasure is supporting transphobia. People don't seem to understand that transphobes are leveraging the general publics ignorance of transmasculine people to their advantage. An ignorant person is much more likely to support the information they receive first- do you want them to learn about transmasculine history and struggles? or do you want them to "learn" about ROGD and social contagion?

[tododeku-or-bust]

What's interesting about the world's response to white workers dying in Palestine vs the Palestinians dying in Palestine is that therein lies the truth, the reality of whiteness and why white people fight so hard to maintain that "ignorance" of it.

Because the thing is, on the one hand, ofc you'll have white people astounded and horrified that THEY TOO can be exposed to such suffering and loss! That's not what's supposed to happen! It's not supposed to happen to them!!

But the thing is, that's the risk you run when white people work against white supremacy's end goals. 🤷🏾‍♀️ THAT'S the fear that so many white people have and don't want to acknowledge when they refuse to learn of their privilege. They already know it exists, even if they don't name it, and that the loss of that privilege- of that whiteness, of the SAFETY that comes with it- means being exposed to the very same dangers that the REST of us are born into and forced to live in.

It's scary, it's painful, it's reality, and it's "not normal" for them.

Essentially what I'm saying is, the moment those workers- may they rest in peace- chose to help Palestinians, their whiteness was forfeit. White supremacy as a tool has never had an issue disposing of white people that didn't fall in line. So long as white people choose to work against white supremacy, their lives no longer count. Only those who defend that violent status quo (and that include by saying and doing nothing!!) benefit from its rewards.

[goldenmotive]

Undersiders as WoW players:

Rachel // Tauren Hunter

Beast Mastery Hunter. Rolled a male Tauren because she thought they looked tough. Usually sticks with the coyote she tamed at level 10. Has a surprising variety of pets otherwise. Mostly plays solo and grinds professions (you only see her on raid night where she's top DPS). Picks an endgame zone as her territory and bullies out anyone trying to quest or grind. Gets mad when people won't shut up in guild chat. Struggled because she can't read quest text but got really into it after Taylor installed questhelper for her.

Aisha // Undead Rogue

Combat Rogue. Absolute menace. Ignored IRL but makes up for it by being infamous on her her server. Ninja looter, will roll need even if she can't use it. PVPer, will kill you when you're fighting a bunch of mobs then teabag you. Griefs her own team in battlegrounds just fucking around while she's holding the flag. Spends all her downtime ganking lowbies in STV, but she's actually really good at her class. kills you on your main too

Alec // Blood Elf Priest

Shadow Priest - rolled the same class as Lisa to fuck with her. Really only plays to screw around with Aisha. Has Aisha's password. Used to multibox on his siblings accounts but burned out. Doesn't do dailies, doesn't do professions, relies on guildies for free potions and food. Surprisingly into transmog. He's right there ganking with Aisha and mind controls kid win off a cliff. Stands in the fire.

Lisa // Blood Elf Priest*

Disc Priest but she's a huge altoholic. Toxic trade chat queen, starts shit and baits other players into getting banned. She's got a character in every major guild on the server - she's the one to invite a fill when they need another head. Okay at every class but she'll end up filling healing and crowd control - someone's got to keep this guild from self destructing. Recruited Taylor to the guild, helps Brian run shit outside of raid bosses. She's tracking everyone's DKP.

Brian // Orc Warrior

Prot Warrior. Guild Leader. Tanks because it's the manliest role. Kind of basic - he'd be a human warrior if the rest weren't horde. Maxed mining and blacksmithing because someone told him it's just what warriors do. Knows raid boss strats, knows what's BiS for each class, knows that none of it matters if they aren't going to listen to him. Pulling his hair out trying to run raid nights. Always marks himself with the skull raid icon. Pays for everyones consumables, also pays for the vent server. Quits for a bit, but comes back next expansion to reroll death knight.

Taylor // Troll Shaman

Elemental Shaman. Addon queen. Her screen looks like an excel sheet and you can barely see her character. Rerolled horde after her ex-guildie logged onto her account and deleted all her characters. Skips school to play. The biggest minmaxer you'll ever play with. Has to stop herself from telling people how to play their class. Hasn't noticed she's not even having fun anymore.

[lovevalley45]

diversity win! the mutated stoats leading the police state society in an abandoned nuclear energy plant use they/them pronouns

[monets-slumber-party]

But first let's get Brennan in a jockstrap 🤭

[spykethedyke]

I LOVE THEM !!!

-Game Changer, Season 5. 'Battle Royale Pt. 4'

[sea-buns]

Kristen Applebees for President, 2025 (...?)

[gingerswagfreckles]

You know the problem with having talked in depth for so many years about how to spot antisemetic dogwhistles and how people use conspiratorial thinking and bad faith derailing arguments to promote bigotry against Jews. Is that now everyone knows how to do it on purpose. Lol.

[tracing-lines-in-the-infinite]

So the thing that Ally does to break Brennan is going to happen next episode right?

[ratbastardman]

every reactionary leftist needs to be handed a dvd copy of deathnote because like if your first step to saving the world is deciding who needs to be protected and who needs to be eliminated my brother in christ you’ve got the moral compass of a fucked up teenager raised by a cop