#or ex bros???

[1bibypersecond]

Someone asked so I'll say it here: I don't ship Viktor and Jayce.

So I won't draw them together romantically, not sorry

[captainadwen]

Damian Wayne vs the World

Sixteen year old Damian Wayne is on the hunt for a younger sibling. Being more discerning than Bruce 'child collector' Wayne, Damian's firm criteria for Batman's latest adoption problem includes but is not limited to: black haired, blue-eyed, tolerable humor, not evil, and most importantly - younger than Damian.

Lucky for him, fourteen year old newbie vigilante Danny Fenton is the perfect fit. Now, to fulfill his end of their deal, Damian must defeat the evil government organization hunting Danny in order to gain a baby brother.

Or, @livinghalfway your post made my brain go !! but in such a different way I figured it was better to make a separate post, hope you don't mind/enjoy still

~~

Damian Wayne re-entered Tim Drake's life like a gnat revealing itself in a closed bedroom space. Tim was in t-shirt and a boxers, maneuvering ramen into his mouth with one hand and scribbling out an epiphany on a murder case with another, when Damian's demonic dulcet voice echoed down from the ceiling. "Drake," said Damian, judgemental, "You live like this?"

Tim nearly choked on his ramen, because the day Damian doesn't attempt to murder him - however doubtfully accidental this incident might be - is the day Darkseid decides to be friends with the Justice League. "Fucking knock," Tim coughed out. "And get out. No one invited you in."

"Put better traps if you don't want me here," said Damian, dropping from the ceiling where he'd crawled in on wall-clamps.

"This is my apartment," said Tim. "It's called courtesy."

Damian sniffed. He padded around to Tim's desk and frowns at his cases, then said, with no further lead up, "I need your assistance."

"No," said Tim.

"You did not even listen to my request."

"Don't need to," said Tim. "Answer's still no. Door is that way. Bye."

"Father says mutually assisting each other is beneficial," said Damian.

"Father," said Tim sarcastically, "blamed me for you exploding a glitter bomb in the batcave two weeks ago."

"That is your fault for not being able to provide evidence to the contrary in an appropriately efficient manner," said Damian. He squinted down at Tim. "And he apologized. Eventually."

"I would not have glittered the batcomputer," said Tim. "Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to backup those servers? No, because you don't like tech work, you just profit off it."

"Blaming me for Father's mistake," said Damian, "Most mature of you. But we must put our differences aside. I have selected a new family member and I need you to dismantle a government organization."

That drew Tim up short. He blinked down at his ramen as though it might explain Damian's words to him, but the ramen remained disappointingly uninformative. "Repeat that," said Tim, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Slower, and with more detail."

Damian pulled out his phone and sent him an email. Silence surrounded them in the brief moment it took Tim to set aside his chopsticks and open the email. The subject line was titled 'New Baby Brother', which birthed all sorts of horrifying nightmares of Damian Part 2: Demon Child Boogaloo. The teen in the inserted picture, however, was reassuringly not in possession of Damian's bone structure.

He did have black hair and blue eyes. "Who am I looking at?" asked Tim.

"Daniel Fenton," said Damian. "He is fourteen years old, enjoys puns, and has recently awakened 'ghost powers' that allow him to transform into the vigilante Phantom to fight other ghosts."

"Is he also an orphan with a tragic backstory?"

"No," said Damian, and Tim relaxed. "But that will not be an issue. We can share custody if they cannot be removed from the picture."

"Jesus H, kid."

"I am joking, of course," said Damian blandly. "Murder is wrong."

"Ha ha," said Tim. "If he has parents already he's not joining our menagerie."

"He will," said Damian, with a smug upwards tilt of his lips. "He and I have a deal."

"So you're coercing him in addition to stalking him. Anything else you want to share with the class?"

Damian considered this query with a serious frown, which was how Tim knew this was not a flight of fancy or a very early midlife crisis (although with their lifestyle and Damian already having died before...).

"He has," said Damian after a moment, "a rogue that calls himself 'The Master of all Technology' and is a technopath." This was clearly meant to be of interest to Tim, and not to be a stereotype, but it kind of was.

"Great." Tim turned his attention back to the email the demon child sent him. He scanned through it quickly. There was apparently a secret and evil government organization dedicated to the investigation and extermination of 'ghosts' and other paranormal creatures in the world. Their latest efforts were focused on the town of Amity Park, Illinois, which was 'infested with ectoplasmic pests'. Their words, not Damian's. (It was specified in the email.)

"Okay," Tim drummed his fingers against his desk. "Before I help you defeat this secret evil government organization so that," he opened the email attachment with a contract on it and squinted at the legalese, "this poor newbie teen you've harassed into signing this joins the family in exchange."

"I did not harass him," Damian huffed. "It was a gentleman's agreement."

"Does he know that?"

"I am not a politician, Drake. I thoroughly explained the terms and legalities before presenting any contract. Now ask your question."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because," said Damian, tone implying 'you are stupid and haven't noticed something obvious, idiot'. "Father has begun saying he misses the noise around the manor and looking wistfully at old pictures."

"We still live there though?" said Tim. Damian looked flatly at him. "Sometimes."

"If you lived there frequently enough," said Damian, "you would already know Father is having...empty nest syndrome." Damian sounded disgusted. "I refuse to tolerate whatever inadequate and incompetent child he will find."

"So instead you found an incompetent and inadequate child for him?"

"Don't be stupid, Drake," said Damian. "I would not have chosen someone inadequate. Daniel is merely lacking formal training. Father can rectify this. It will keep him occupied for at least the next two to four years, which gives me enough time to find another black-haired, blue-eyed, tolerable child I approve of to be his successor and my second younger sibling." Damian paused. "Or until one of you procreates and gives him a grandchild."

"You're really serious about this," Tim whispered in horrified awe.

"I am serious about everything I do," said Damian. "Now, you will help me defeat this evil government organization so that our new sibling joins us."

"Okay," said Tim, but his mind snagged on a minor, throwaway detail, so utterly in odds with Damian 'Demonic Jealous Child' Al Ghul it surely came from another person - "Did you just call this kid your successor?"

[iloveacronix]

Jay vs Cole fight scene better go like this. MAKE ME CRY, NINJAGO!!

[triumviiirate]

Star Trek: Ex Machina by Christopher L. Bennett

[cranberrydietcoke]

euphoria - r.c

ex bf ! rafe cameron x kook princess ! reader

content: 18+, drinking & drug use, drunk/high sex, degrading names (slut, whore, bitch), on camera type shit, kinda public party sex, my y/ns are always cream team soz, kinda dubcon ig, he makes her say ily, creampie. def giving s1 fratboy rafe. non-descriptive except for tanned skin n u curl ur hair!

a/n: first rafe fic eeeep! many more to come tho i deadass have feelings for him it’s a problem. & thx u for the luv on my last two fics !! preesh u bad bitches

wc: 3k

your fingers intertwined with sutton’s as she pulled you along, splitting the tight crowd of snapbacks and miniskirts. smoke hung over the purple atmosphere as some future song boomed from the speakers. you greeted each spinning face you slid by with a slurred sorry baby! or scuse’ me!

“bitch nooo, come the fuck onnnnn,” she pleaded, jerking you away from the random man you were offering your vape to.

“later okay! come smoke w’me!” you yelled back at him, trying to communicate with charades as sutton pulled you deeper into the heart of the party. he was cute, but you knew you wouldn’t see him later, considering rafe was about twenty feet away slicing lines on the kitchen counter. the baby pink polo hugged his bicep as he bent over, rolled dollar bill tight between his fingers.

fuck. i miss that platinum card.

a few months ago, you and rafe  were the it couple of kildare, without question. luxury vacations, designer swimwear, a mercedes for christmas, days in the yacht. it was like kim and fucking kanye. even more so now. a breakup had never lasted more than a few hours, usually ending with you both getting high and rafe fucking an ‘im sorry’ out of you. but this time, you were actually done with his shit, done having a screaming match every day, done apologizing all the time just so he wouldn’t blow up. sure, it was sad at first. but when it was posted on figure8insider, you had finally reached the last stage of grief: acceptance.

“like why do they even fucking care?” you barked, scrunching a warm, fresh curl in your hand. “how do they even know? shit’s like tmz.” spinning in your satin vanity chair, you turned to face your friend before sashaying to your closet.

“they act like we’re soooo a-list. i’m with your ass every day, you are NOT that interesting,” sutton chuckled, adjusting the strap of her top and checking herself out in the mirror. with topper’s parents away in the virgin islands, his annual end-of-summer banger was everybody’s move for the night, and you were certain rafe was gonna be there.  

“right?” you blew clouds of strawberry pound cake as you rummaged through hangers, “like, i’m not an influencer.”

it came out like a lie, and in a way, it was. you were the sweetheart of the island’s restless and entitled youth, their very own people’s princess. your strapless black dress could only be worn after sundown, barely covering the lower curve of your ass, delicate pink ribbons holding together the cutout of your cleavage. a stack of expensive gold bangles chimed together as you stuffed all your shit into your purse, slammed another shooter, and dialed reagan for a ride.

“you know rafe’s gonna be there, right?” she asked, turning the music down and casting a glance at you from the driver’s seat. you suck your teeth behind your glittery lips.

“duh, bitch! why do you think she got that on?” sutton screamed from the back, making all three of you die in laughter as you hid your face. just like, one more time wouldn’t hurt.

even under the kaleidoscope of neon lights, you could tell the whole room’s attention turned toward you as you danced your way in. sneaking a seltzer from the cooler, you settled at the beer pong table where a group of wannabe finance bros crushed solo cups of natty light, shooting each other starstruck glances and sharing whispers as you glided through, greeting everyone with an indifferent wave and an insincere heyyyyyyy.

“yo, rafe, your girl’s over there,” kelce leaned in, motioning over to the enveloping swarm of people growing around you.

“bro, top,” rafe fell back, slapping topper in the chest, “why the fuck did you even invite her?” he spat out, eyes pulsing.

“dude…why wouldn’t i invite her…” topper stated plainly, as if rafe had asked if the sky was fucking blue. if you weren’t there, that shit was a flop.

“that bitch,” he started, shaky hands sliding in to search his pockets, “that bitch is fucking crazy, okay?” he pulled out a dime bag and his wallet, eyeing his friends who knew better than to speak. he tapped some out on the granite countertop, lining it up nice and clean with his american express, hinging at the waist to align a rolled 20 with the powder, making it disappear in one snort.

before it could register, sutton was dragging you through the sea of people and closer and closer to rafe, forcing you to abandon the crowd of drooling fans. gripping your shoulders, she planted you right in front of him. you looked up, caught between a flash of fear and drunken amusement, an absent smile playing on your face.

“be good okay?” she chided, lightly slapping your back with beaming pride, “text me if you need anything!”

he wiped the excess powder off his nostril with a laugh of disbelief as he stood over you, studying your face. all you can manage is a squeaky and breathless hi as your tipsy blush deepens.

“hey, kid. miss me or somethin’?” he mocked, bringing the tips of his fingers to brush against your arm. 

“oh my god rafe, be serious,” you scoff, batting away his large, lingering hands.

“aw, what? don’t wanna share a blunt with me like we used to?” he drew out, words dripping in honeyed hatred. almost made you forget all the shit he’d put you through. the familiar teal of his eyes roamed over every square inch of your freckled and exposed skin.

“fuck no,” you laughed, watching as his tongue swiped against his bottom lip, “no tellin’ where your mouth has been.”

“right, “ his eyes narrowed as he crouched down, inches from your face, “like you’re some fuckin’ angel.”

breath hot on your lips, encapsulating you with the smell of stout liquor and le labo santal. “won’t smoke with me, but you’ll smoke with ole boy?” he spoke, low and calm through heaving breaths as he motioned with a sharp hand towards the brunette you’d ran into.

fuck. he heard you.

 “i see how it is…bein’ an attention whore since you left, huh?” he backed up, wiping the wetness off his lower lip with the same hand.

“don’t piss me off,” you rolled your eyes, “come on.”  taking his wrist into your hand and leading him towards the balcony door. he had an uncanny talent for manipulating the situation, planting the illusion you had the upper hand, although you never did. you were unknowingly right where he wanted you. digging into your purse, you pull out an m&m mini’s tube, popping it open and flipping it vertically. a blunt slid out and into your fingers, perfectly rolled.

the coastal air was thick with humidity, only lit by the light poles on the beach. rafe’s chest hovered over your back as you stepped out into the salty breeze, brushing strands of hair out of your eyes and positioning the blunt between your lips. just as you fished for your lighter, he moved faster, sparking a flame under his calloused thumb and bringing it closer. he watched you as the fire cast a glow on your half-lidded gaze, crackling lightly as you inhaled. as mean and vile and ungrateful as he was, he truthfully couldn’t imagine himself with another girl. you were bitchy, high maintenance, never satisfied, spoiled, whiny, just so unknowingly powerful. but god, you were fucking perfect. who else on this island would be able to handle you?

“you know,” you hissed, drawing the smoke sharply between your teeth before releasing it in a hazy stream that slipped through the perfect, glossy ‘o’ formed by the soft contour of your lips. “it wasn’t as devastating as i thought it was gonna be.” you sputter, nudging it towards his towering frame which stood outlined by the glow of the orange lanterns. he hit it, tiny little consecutive pecks that made the tip flash on and off.

“really?” he choked between inhales. “cause you look pretty devastated to me.” he smirked, stepping closer, blowing the potent smoke into your parted lips as you instinctively breathe it in. “you miss me?”

“maybe just a little,” you tease, watching the satisfied smirk grow on his face. his free hand traced the curve of your collarbone, fingers lightly brushing the tousled strands of your hair off your shoulder. he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tanned skin.

“i miss your carrdddd, that nice big boattt, the presents.” you sing with a smug smile, hands snaking around his neck, his fingers finding the cushion of your hips, moving and swaying together.

“oh, shut the fuck up,” he looked down at you, dilated pupils scanning your face, “nobody’s fucking you like me, bet that,” a dry laugh left his throat.

“ugh,” you crash into his chest, pressing your cheek into the dry cleaned ralph lauren. whining  ihateyouihateyouihateyou’s.

steady and smooth, he discarded the blunt, wrapping his hands around your back, groping and pawing at your half-revealed ass. without thinking, you lift onto your tippy toes, breath coming in shallow gasps, lips lingering over his open mouth. without warning, his tongue fought its way in, swirling with yours in a hot, desperate hail mary. your lips met in sloppy smacks, stumbling over each other until he eventually had your hips pressed against the side railing.

pulling away, he spoke, low and from his chest. “you hate me? yeah? or do you just miss my dick in you,” his face lingered over yours, “n’ it’s got you all fuckin’ bothered.” you felt the puff of breath with each word. “say it,” he coaxed, hiking up the front of your dress to thumb at the hem of your panties, “say you want me to take that pussy.” his long fingers ran over your clothed clit, making your hips roll against the opulent stone that hung over the thornton estate. he chuckled, shaking his head as his gaze fixed between your legs. “it’s fuckin’ mine anyways.”  

your lips chased after his as he stepped back, tsking at you, still holding you steady by the waist. “nah, baby. gotta say it,”

you closed the distance, pressing your soft, heavy tits into the muscle of his abdomen and the pads of your fingertips into his bicep. face so close to yours, a smirk practically tangible in the air.

“pleaseeeee rafe, i need it,” you panted out, desperate and erratic. “just one more time.” your eyes traced him up and down, sinking into cross-faded euphoria. a single, needy tear fell from the corner of your glittery and bloodshot eye, streaking down your flushed cheek. brushing his lips against you, he flicked his tongue, tracing the path of the teardrop. you moan at the warmth against your cool skin, reaching down to guide his hand between your legs.

“fuck, such a slut.” he breathes out, cupping your dripping cunt and meeting your lips in a deep, perverse kiss. the kind that you just can't help but pull back a little bit. “missed you, missed this pussy.” he spoke in a low guttural rasp, almost inaudible. his wide build shielded you from the large glass doors that led into the party, hooking his fingers in the fabric of your panties and yanking them down, dipping his middle finger into the wetness pooling at your entrance.

“god, need this shit,” he groaned, swiping his finger gently up and down, circling your bundle of nerves. “turn around.”

he gave the command yet didn’t wait for a response, his firm grip on your waist flipping you the other way, leaving no room for a fight. bent over the balcony balustrade, your head hung in the air, looking down at the pool that sat twenty feet below. one of rafe’s hands pinned you over the railing by the back of the neck while the other played and prodded at your hole, getting you ready for him. discreetly, he worked his cock loose, rubbing the tip through your slick folds.

“rafeeee,” you muffle out, face smushed against the stone and immobile from the strength of his grasp. “not here, please, ca-can we just go inside?”

“nahh, i don’t think so, baby. this is what you wanted, right?” his hand slid down, wrapping a fist into the bunched fabric of your dress, pressing into you. your walls fluttered against him, a feeling so familiar yet so distant. lasers from the party strobed through the window, flashing by you. knees buckling, you couldn’t help but wiggle your ass back against him.

“god – fuck!” you squeal out, feeling him balls deep in you, guiding you down his length and filling you to the hilt. reaching into the pocket of his khakis, which still hung low on his hips, he fishes his phone out. with a quick flick, snapchat is open and the flash is washing over you. even with your head hung over the railing, you could still see the spotlight focused on your tight, twitching hole. he slides in and out, using your dress to manipulate the rhythm of your body. capturing everyyyy moment.

“this s’my shit, huh?” he panted out, your ass recoiling against each harsh thrust. “you’re my bitch, y’know that? been my bitch.” voice low and slow, almost cocky, like he wanted everyone to know -  like they didn’t already. the sound of damp, saturated clapping mixed with the crash of waves onto the shore.

“p-please, they’re gonna see,” you whimper, body jerking as he slams into you over and over. imagine the uproar if everyone saw you, little miss untouchable, taking your ex-boyfriend’s cock on the terrace outside topper’s party. grabbing a handful of hair, he yanks your head back, glare of the light fixed on your face. 

“they’re gonna see anyway, baby, don’t be shy. jus’ cum f’me,” your face screwed with his words, brows furrowing as you looked up at the camera with hopeless, empty eyes. just so fucked out. the curve of his dick poked and kissed that sweet spot deep inside you, bringing you closer and closer.

“you love me, huh?” he grunted, still forcing a deep arch in your back. “tell the camera you love me, princess.” you could feel yourself coming loose, guilt and lust boiling over in your tummy. you explode in a squealing moan, gripping on his cock and covering it with cream.

 “i love you rafe, fuck! - love you so so much!” crying through hiccups and flickering eyes, still trained on the flash. such a smart girl getting fucked dumb on camera. such a powerful person yet completely powerless in his hands.

“gonna let me nut in you?” his filming hand went flimsy as he quickened his pace, groaning and letting out short little bursts of air. “y’gonna take it all, be good for me like you used to?” he rasped, met with limp nods and a braindead mhmmm. that’s all it took for him to pound every inch into you, sending you deeper into your daze. fuckin’ dickmatized.

the video on his screen shook violently with each stroke, hot spurts of cum filling you up. “fuuuuckk,” he groaned, hips stuttering to a stop and loosening the grip on your hair, leaving you to catch your breath hung over the railing. he pointed the camera down, pulling himself out and spreading one cheek open with his hand to expose the stickiness dripping out of you. the flash finally goes off, and he saves it to his memories. bringing his fingers up to your leaky hole, he fucks his seed in deeper, eliciting a choked sob from your lips. pulling you upright and flipping you to face him, he squats down to pull your panties up from around your ankles, shimmying your hips into them and pulling your dress down. it was just like y'all used to.

the party was still in full swing as you both slipped back in, parting ways as you went to check in with sutton and reagan, completely disregarding the knotted mess of hair on your head and the streaked makeup down your face. was that fucking real? your legs were tight as you stagger and shuffle through groups of drunk teenagers all bouncing with the music, trying to regain your composure. as soon as reagan spots you from the couch, her jaw is on the floor, ushering you closer with her hand.

“y/n, no fucking way! you slut!” she shrieks with wide eyes and a light slap to your arm. “does sutton know?”

“girl, she set the shit up!” you try to explain, motioning with your hands. “i was like, if you insistttttt.” you lie, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, hitting her with a debby ryan radio rebel type smirk.

“you’re lying,” she goes on, picking her jaw up and taking a swig of her drink. “speak of the devil!” she exclaims, motioning behind you with her drink. a sharp smack landed on your ass, making you jump. sutton’s hand gripped yours, turning you around.

“did you fuck him?” she smiled, obviously drunk as shit and wayyy too loud.

“yeahh, what do you mean…” you roll your eyes, snapping your head to the side with a wide smile. it was evident how excited sutton was, prideful about it. lifting her solo cup in the air and grabbing to lift yours with the other, she let out a deafening woo!

“personally…” she went on, clutching her imaginary pearls, “i think that’s worth drinking to,” she proposed, side-eyeing and nudging you not so subtly. “come on bitch! shots for ken and barbie!”

to be honest, that was the last thing you remember.

the next morning, you woke up nuzzled in plaid grey sheets, your phone buzzing incessantly with notifications. the sound of the groundskeepers filtered through the windows. tannyhill.

fumbling with your phone, the words flashed across the screen.

figure8insider – ‘kildare’s power couple reunited? rafe cameron and y/n y/ln spotted together at party!’

oh.my.god.

[doctorwhommm]

tfw you shoot your boss but he comes back to life so you organise an impromptu mutiny against your him which leads to you accidentally bringing about the literal biblical apocalypse which is only stopped by your immortal boss dying for good this time but psych he actually comes back to life AGAIN and then immediately runs away whilst you’re on a coffee run and you don’t hear from him until a few months later when he’s suddenly a wanted terrorist on the news with his toxic ex and some random junior doctor

[sakasakiii]

when i first designed erestor 3 years back i wasnt totally aware of his potential half-elf status, and since then ive come across some more fanon interpretations of him being haleth and caranthir's kid which i really liked!!!! so ive decided to rework him a little by combining my original lore for him into this concept 👉👈 i ended up getting carried away on whole different tangent with his backstory which ive summarised down below HAHA

tldr to expand on some key points under the cut:

born in F.A. 371 to haleth and caranthir; his parents' romance is short but passionate, and while many of the haladin are initially unsure about the nature of this union, they dont oppose it. for 4 years they live an unconventional but happy life together

haleth leaves thargelion in F.A. 375 and raises erestor with her people once they resettle. he's too young to remember much about caranthir. throughout his childhood she never tells him who his father is, but he also never really feels the need to ask.

he's captured in F.A. 460 (40 years after his mother's death) and escapes in F.A. 510. two years later, he finally finds refuge in Amon Ereb-- six years after the deaths of caranthir, celegorm and curufin in the 2nd kinslaying.

is tasked by maedhros to assist maglor with elrond and elros' education after they're taken in following the 3rd kinslaying in F.A. 538. he becomes a weird mix of a nanny/older brother/teacher figure to them, and a strange but sweet bond forms between them.

entrusted to protect elrond and elros following the break out of the war of wrath. he leads them to the Host of the Valar, where the twins are given the choice of the half-elven; to his surprise, he's afforded this choice as well, and decides to remain elven out of compassion for elrond after elros chooses mortality.

remains by elrond's side to watch over him for most of the 2nd age. during this time he resides in lindon as a healer, translator and archivist; later joins elrond in imladris, and partakes in the war of the last alliance as a combat medic.

in the 3rd age, is beset with sea-longing after what he regards to be a long and tiresome existence; he's also filled with guilt for being unable to help elrond heal celebrian’s psychological wounds, and contemplates following her back to Valinor. ultimately decides to stay back a bit longer, however, and lingers until after sauron’s defeat when the rest of the elves finally depart for the West. 

that's just a very condensed version but one day i hope to explore in some 4th age stuff where he finds out who his dad is...?! or will he?!?! who knows lol

[zivazivc]

matching ugly sweater gang!

on sunday was hed's 1st birthday. 🥹 he's the only one of the bandmates for whom i know the exact date when i drew him for the first time (the rest are a few days/weeks older). i can't believe these guys have been on my brain for over a year now. 😭😭😭

bonus:

[v-line2gut]

How fat boys be trying to catfish

[muzsmocsing]

Congratulations to Wei Wuxian for beating the world champion of Compulsory Heterosexuality: Shen Yuan's record in the 100m Denial dash. He wins nothing, he is in fact a massive loser, but it's impressive nonetheless.

[starscream-is-my-wife]

[missholloween]

I love how casually queer Tin Can Bros productions are.

Spies are Forever might be the obvious example, as queerness is at the core of the show's conflict with Curt and Owen's relationship. But then you have productions like Solve It Squad or This Could Be on Broadway that have queer characters and they're not a big deal!

Esther is non binary, but that' doesn't eclipse the rest of their character's just one of their character traits: they're also a drug-addict outstanding investigator. On a similar note, Cole is also a trans character, this time played by a trans actress, but her queerness is not on the focus of the character! She's also one of the romantic leads, having a sweet, heartfelt highschool romance with Bethanne. It's very rare to see trans characters as leads in mainstream media, TCB not only has one in their main cast, but she's in a sapphic relationship with another one of the leads!

And it's not something recent, either: one of their first productions, Ex-vloggers, was explicitely queer in 2015! They've always given voice to queer creatives (as one of them is), and I'm glad to see their productions keep growing and evolving, always learning and getting better. I'm excited to see what the future stores for them (oh Intelligent Life I'm so ready for you)

[luneariann]

I’ll stop making this joke when it stops being true

[mioakem]

HO WHAT IS WRONG WITCHU?????

[wishchip106]

i’m still just thinking about how in apocalypse the thing that stops magneto from destroying the world is an edit of charles just seeing the good in him.

🤨

not even his DEAD wife and daughter?

or maybe mutants from the brotherhood?

nope. charles

[sandflakedraws]

so i'm readin various stuff on the xray cause this silly film is my current source of joy and

wait

hold up.

what...

WAHT ??? WHAT

XRAY CAST DESCRIPTION????

YEARS???

xrAY dESCRIPTION eXPLaIN!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN FLOYD WAS HELD CAPTIVE FOR YEARS, WHAT SECRET INFO DO U HAVE ACCESS TO???