#A Morsel Really

[quijotine]

friends i am deep in the dandadan brainrot and it just occurred to me (i have not read the manga yet so idk but ok):

so. Okarun doesn't actually know why Momo calls him Okarun, right?

And I was thinking about this whole thing about the names. How the names they choose to call each other is the reflection of how much they accept the love they have for each other, which is all nice and cute but.

What if Okarun thinks the reason Momo doesn't call him Ken/Ken Takakura is that she thinks it's SO INCREDIBLY EMBARASSING that he is named after an old famous actor?

and it would be so true to form that they hold onto this misconception and that they get confused by it once they get to talk about the love confession (yes THAT love confession)

like imagine Momo grills him for never calling her by her name and Okarun argues back like "well you're no one to talk! MISS AYASE. you're so embarrassed of my name being the same as some dumb actor that you had to give me a nickname!"

"come again??? :D ..."

"You're embarrassed that my name is like that one actor Ken Takakura! >:( why else would you never want me to say my name! >:'((("

and then momo is stuck with the mortifying ordeal of explaining that she has this HUGE crush on beloved 20th century actor ken takakura like "nonono you got it all wrong okar—sorry hnnggg k e n. i. had a crush. on ken takakura :l "

"????? I'm Ken Takakura."

"i know :l so is Ken Takakura."

"so. you. you have a crush. on Ken Takakura. the actor. You couldn’t say my name because you had the hots for Ken Takakura."

"I do. I do have the hots for Ken Takakura."

"the actor."

"no. The real one."

"so the actor? "

"no :l Ken Takakura. the other one"

"ah. I see, the other one."

WAIT. DBDHWSHDBDBDB I'M THE OTHER ONE?!?!!?!?!?!!!@@!!!!!!!

and once okarun's brain restarts and momo asks him why he'd never call her by her name either, he just goes like "i have a crush on momo ayase. 💀 i am an awkward fellow after all 💀"

[sallymew4]

EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOURE DOING RIGHT FUCKING NOW

EVERYBODY SHUT UP IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[snatcher-no-snatching]

i love the bobs that live in the margins of my canvases....

[chronurgy]

Controversial opinion but I don't think regular gale has abs. God gale absolutely does though. God gale has a six pack. God gale is shredded.

[spnintheyearofourlord]

Thinking about Sam and how central autonomy and violation is to his character. How many times and ways he had his choice taken away throughout the series. All the things we don’t know about his time with Lucifer, but are also so heavily implied that we do.

Imagining he eventually gets out of The Life and becomes a victim’s advocate. He ultimately decides not to try and pursue law school at this stage in his life—it’s been so long and so much has changed—but finishes his bachelor’s and pursues a master’s in social work. He never expected to end up here: the boy with the demon blood, no longer living out some doomed and twisted fate, helping people. He’s passionate about representing those made most vulnerable and unsafe in their own skin, supporting others as they come out the other side survivors, lending the compassion he’s always struggled to have for himself. Every time he listens to someone else’s story, helps connect them to resources, advocates for their case, he heals a little bit too.

[mmixcelbleegg]

I forgot about photo limit so part one

Ppaarty 222 :3

[loudfederationscreeching]

much prefer the tng approach of dr crusher designing prosthetics and having mr mott design hairpieces (as of 5x7 anyway) as compared to the snw temporary genetic changes thing, its like homey theater kid vibes vs the weird unsettling obsession snw has with genetics 👀

also like in 4x15 when riker is undercover and gets caught in the hospital and has facial prosthetics but also just has on big mittens to cover that his hands havent been changed, which is silly and endearing but also obviously because you wouldnt want your hands all sculpted in a pinch. practicality over the deep impracticality of that serum that hurt like hell that la'an and spock both had to endure for literally no reason

[sciderman]

deadpool (2008) #36

[recitedemise]

𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬. He can tell you he's become the deity for daring and ambition, but for those that knew him, he's become more a vessel of poor self worth. As a mortal, Gale has wrestled for ages with both the value and the weight of all his qualities. He'd always thought himself singular, loved solely for his magic and his knack at spellcraft; however, in every realm that'd lie beyond all things wizardy, Gale, who he was, proved plainly irrelevant. He was valued for his skills. He was largely desired for his brilliance alone. In youth, he'd not many friends, a smart, rambly boy many treated quite coldly, a boy that leant on humor to deflect their bouts of venom -- a boy, as it were, that wasn't much liked. He'd be asked for help, of course, or 1:1 lessons if he'd the time to spare, but to play after class or to go to the park? Never. In fact, that was why he'd summoned Tara early on.

As an adult, this feeling, unfortunately, had paled in no way to only impossibly grow. Mystra choosing him, naturally, had all but propelled it to maddening heights. Abandoned, he fears his magic not enough, now left tempered, pale, and with a fraction of his strength. It makes him eager to please, to pursue even greater, grander acts to earn some approval, and his desiring godhood is a result of that. As a god, your worries, your battles, will all be his. He will triumph them all. He will take them in his palms and whisk you to safety. He can save you in a way his goddess denied him of, and then, surely then, will you think worthy...of time, your care, or your better opinion.

Yet, there in the astral plane, it'd be just him, his thoughts, and a small, empty boat amidst a sea of stars. He'd have no one to share with it despite his gaggle of followers that would love him blindly. They'd love him for his godliness, his ambition, his magic, and all those things he could offer for faith, but who he was and his now lost-heart... Starved, he'd cling to those prayers at his altars to feel partly loved.

[sauceless-maiden]

the worst feeling in the world is loving a show about found family and then seeing that most of the fan-fiction is about shipping...

[bubacorn]

.

[bitchcrime]

[krillonthegrill]

i think i'll pass out if i don't see more Amanda Thomas fanart on my feed right now

i have so many ideas for art but i jut can't DRAW

[mmixcelbleegg]

Dalpop occurrences draft thing I have in my New Fandom outsiders Google doc!!!! I sped wrote these and so they aren't the most coherent or. Like how things work But they still make me giggle and that's beautiful

First time trying to not give a (profanity here) please don't make fun of me/silly

some are like mildly sexual Very mildly but ykyk Nothing happens As well as maybe some character discrepancies (if that's the word)

Also Dallas is a homophobe ( he says pansy in one of them if that's triggering at all)

,

- Sodapop slowly looping his arms around Dallas like he's leading in a horse and as soon as Dallas realizes and snaps out of the many atrocities he considers committing again, he breathes out another drag and scolds “Can you get any more handsier? Glory..” as Soda’s just quietly giggling to himself over how he can feel the other guy’s heart rate pick up from the touch alone.

- Dallas called Soda ‘pretty boy’ as a joke once and it Immediately shut him up, which was in stark contrast to the liveliness that radiated from him moments prior.

- When I was thinking about that... Soda getting Flushed, even though it's more likely an insult. Maybe he gets hard off of it being an insult, but no one will ever hear about that. Dal noticing right away and teasing him even more, “Oh, faithful Pepsi’, that from me?” and his voice squeaking in rebuttal “Why’re you even lookin’ down there!”

- Sodapop shadowboxing Dallas because he wants to die/silly. Dal yanks one of his wrists down after a while and maybe holds his hand absently or something i don't know maybe.

- (big oneeee!!!!) Soda, kind of off put over Ponyboy sleeping in his own room now, trying to convince Dallas to cuddle with him. Coaxing him in like how he always hushed Mickey, “C'mon, man, I don't mean anythin’ by it,” and Dal snapping back, “No way, I ain't a goddamn pansy. You go ask your ‘big brother' - maybe he can fetch you your binky too.” Man’s grinning at the challenge the ornery ol’ hooligan’s putting up, “Whatisit - Am I so manly, you can't help but be intimidated?” “How ‘bout I show you how ‘intimidated’ I am by socking you in the jaw, man? ‘Bet we can get real close then.” “Well you linger aroun’ for hugs; what’s the difference?” and even the tough, mean greaser can’t deny that first bit. Soda was just so naturally warm that, during what might've been their first hug after Johnny’s funeral (dubious fanon), he couldn't help but cling a bit tighter. Inevitably, Soda has Dal’s head begrudgingly laid on his chest, the couch sinking under them before anyone is back home to judge. Soda rambling on about how he held Pony like this, gently combing through Dal’s hair as the other boy’s nails just barely dig into his shoulders. He feels like he could explode and scream with feeling at that moment - embarrassment or affection unclear - and his head nudges closer, just processing all sorts of nicknames Soda was giving him. A close to mute “Dally, baby,” filtering with all of the world’s tenderness from where Soda presses his mouth onto the crown of Dal’s blonde head. Dal wouldn't care about himself burning bright red like he does, but he does care about the heat that comes with. He hisses out the only response he knows how to make, threats “If you don't shut up, goddamnit-” and goes on with all sorts of profanities before the weight of comfort comes in waves at him. Soda just chuckles, careful with how his muscles flex to make room for the noise. They part after a good while, but ever since, when he's feeling a sort of mood, Dally hangs and leans against a wall, smoking, nearby Soda whenever he's free - like a dog, a sort of silent ask for ‘private attention’.

As it's put in my doc, More Private occurrences vv not explicit but they're huge gay

- Soda tops (.man I'm cooked) but there is the occasional time Dallas does, and he is NOT playing. Brother skips straight to it. And usually, Soda’s matching his energy to a horrific extent those days. At some point of this arrangement, Darry is off work and walking down the hall when he scolds Soda for being intimate on his bed (clothed, but it sounds like that would change soon) - “I'm not cleanin’ you an’ PONY’S sheets tonight so you better find somewhere else, kid!” At the sound, like clockwork, Dallas instinctually clambers over the sill just above the bed and throws the window open for himself to climb out, which raises a very audible, and Just Thrown Off “Dal?!” from Soda. He only hurries out faster at what might've been a plea, completely incoherent with his whisper shouting. And from just outside the room, Darry is petrified. Stunned. Appalled. Gobsmacked. Slams the door open and Soda is immediately jumping into defense, sweating up a storm and trying desperately to get his charms to work, “Ma’ bad, Darrel, I oughta be headin’ ou’ now-” interrupted “Don’t be playin’ with Dal - I swear to God, you'll be gettin’ it!” and a little back and forth (“We were just wrestlin’, Dar, ‘is no big deal!” “On your bed?” “MhhM! ’:,D” ) before Soda, very meekly, asks “‘You mad?” And Darry eases up a bit, even if it's slightly, to say “Not at you, baby.” Then climbs out the window to chase after the hood, calling “DALLAS TUCKER WINSTON!”

- (also a pretty big one!!) Soda being unbelievably gentle with Dallas, the lead up into this golden retriever of a man holding himself up on top of a perpetually pissed ruffian only being little flirts sprinkled into their usual banter. And Dallas is so not used to it. As Soda’s taking his time, engraving the soft memory of his lips into the side of Dal’s neck, Dal swings his head to the side, hoping the mattress under him dips just enough to hide the wrinkles forming in his expression. He grumbles, mostly to himself, only coherent at the end, “-when’re you bitin’,” as he recalls all the times he and Sylvia made out. Soda doesn't notice the hitch of his throat, and quips faintly ���You want me to? Me an’ Pone got a nasty bite!” But he feels the insinuation of Dal’s head tilting down further and looks over, concern making his voice even more private, “What happened?” Dal hisses out curses at how the nerves of his cheeks are now just catching stray tears crawling down them, irritation embedded at the soul of his response and gritting his teeth, “Nothin’, man - I don't get the ‘matter with me.” And he really doesn't. Soda's far too gentle with how his palm shifts his head back upright, his voice just as consoling “We don't gotta do this if you don't wanna, Dal,” kissing down the tracks forming on his face. His voice gets clearer with that anger he always carries, angry at how impossibly nice this guy is “Yeah yeah, I got it - stop messin’ around.” He's very against being close like this (/s) as he leans into the small ministrations now sprinkled onto his forehead, strangled noises from the back of his throat he meant to fizzle out, tried tucking and hiding away into marrow, just audible enough for Soda to coo over. “Aw, hear at you, sunshine!” his laughter seeping out in a way that makes a choked up Dal's heart swell. He tries saying anything, asking for him to shut up and just be rough - stop playing some stupid loverboy - but he's too used to butchering the vulnerable tone that would come out for him to follow through. He can only wince and harshly tug him closer.

- Soda sings him cheesy love songs while he's being touchy - like think of the ‘Put Your Head On My Shoulder’ variety. Him doing that stupid head motion as he delves into a whisper for the “Too~” closer to Dal’s ear and his hand swings up so fast, he almost smacks him. He wish it hit too.

- Soda pinning Dal against the edge of the bed as the latter’s drawing blanks at what he could possibly do that wouldn't involve injuring this pretty boy’s face. Holding his waist and his thumbs maneuvering under the hem of Dal’s shirt, feeling the scrapes and blemishes wounding his skin with fervent attention. (“I think I really dig you, darlin’,” and Dal excessively confused and overwhelmed “Say sike rn.”)

,

I edited the ending to that other post that came from this just a teensy bit... Here is that too smnille

" [...] He wants to strangle Soda when his breath brushes against his hair so softly, despite Dal moving to press his hairline against Soda’s throat, hoping their lungs stiffen so he can stay in still softness forever. So he can hide in that spot under his chin and not deal with the consequences of being stripped bare, even if it was for a moment. Out of breath and more serious than he’ll ever be, “You're not tellin’ anyone about that.” "

And my dalpop playlist - i don't think it's too legible but I like listening tooooooo

[zeroducks-2]

ZERO I’m going to scream I absolutely lost my marbles at the response you gave me for number 13

(Desperately hoping you maybe get inspired and write Slade giving Dick a baby of their own.. ((mpreg or stealing or maybe even rescuing...)) AH. It was so good)

Thank you so much oh my god I truly starting giggling Slade is the perfect amounts of stalker while also being nice. Oh my GOD.

I’m still losing it if you can’t tell. Thank you so so much!!!

(tags by @anawrites3 on this post)

I love you guys so much & you are correct, Dick needs to get preggered or at the very least to be given his own baby. Slade agrees.

[isilwhore]

Oh baby, protect me from the spiders

(That was all? I wanted more)