#REPRESENTATION BABY!!!

[localfanbaselurker]

FUCK YEAH HE SAID IT

VIVA CUBA LIBRE BABEY PATRIA Y VIDA FUCK LA DICTADURA!!!!! 🇨🇺🇨🇺🇨🇺🇨🇺🇨🇺🇨🇺🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[glitched-starlight]

As Gravity Falls reenters the void, and the inevitably of fanfiction begins to recirculate, there is a comment I fear I must send out to the general public.

As a trans man who gets, like, -1 representation in shows that aren’t explicitly about queer people, I often will latch onto characters that inexplicably have The Trans (TM) written into their bones, which includes Dipper Pines. And, as one might expect, I turn to my silly little A03 account to get my fix of representation and enjoyment of many a trans dilemma. Unfortunately, this is where my qualms get given the spotlight.

This is a generalization, but it seems as though every single godforsaken fic about trans!Dipper (I see this in the Spider-Man fandom a lot too, but that’s a conversation for a different day) he loses all his unhingedness, all his insanity, and is boiled down to a weak and sad little uwu trans boy who can’t handle his own dysphoria and falls apart at every slight inconvenience?

You’re telling me DIPPER, the same man who got called weak one (1) time and then disappeared into the woods for a solid 12 hours and came back half naked and rambling about positive vs toxic masculinity and manotaurs, is going to get misgendered and fall completely and utterly apart? You seriously think he’s going to have a run in with somebody who tries to bully him for being trans and he isn’t going to read them to filth? Are we forgetting that this is the same man who spent a whole episode learning about how to live and let live and then STILL told Pacifica her family was a sham with the mic-drop line of “deal with it”?????

Like good lord, please give this man some credit. I’m not saying he can’t have panic attacks, or trauma, or be treated differently by certain people, but it is the year of our lord and savior 2024 and we are STILL infantilizing trans men in fanon versions of media???

All I’m saying is if Mabel gets to keep her unhinged characteristics, you gotta let Dipper keep his too. Let Dipper punch a transphobe, as a treat.

[nosexnoromance]

i am not a cartoon hater or anything, but oughhh it hurts my feelings still when I am seriously looking for aro and/or ace rep and someone is like "watch SpongeBob :)"

[gaypeople]

SHIVA BABY dir. Emma Seligman

[sprytesukii]

hazy dreams

sero hanta x shinsou hitoshi x reader

rating : 18+, explicit, MDNI

wc : 4.7k

tags : trans!masc!!reader (he/him pronouns, good boy used to refer to reader), afab anatomy (clit, cock, pussy, cunt, hole, all used to refer to genitalia), mmm!threesome, hanta & hitoshi are also into each other (they kiss among other things), drugs! (only weed), oral (reader!receiving), squirting, reader makes suicidal jokes, piercings mentioned, other horny stuff >.<

an : i wrote the first half of this like . a year ago and i don’t remember even doing that but it was fun & sexy so i decided to finish it . it’s deeply self indulgent , i literally wrote this For Me so i will be so geeked if you enjoy it <3

Your living room, however cozy it usually is, currently reeks of weed. 

Usually, you’d grimace at the scent, worried about the pungent yet familiar smell seeping into your thrifted furniture and deceptively inexpensive throw pillows, but it is indicative of the presence of your two favorite people on the planet (excluding your cat Doorknob, of course). 

Hanta and Hitoshi don’t come over to your place that often anymore — something about your neuroticism ruining the vibe or some other, equally pretentious shit — so when they do choose to grace you with their presence, it’s a real treat. 

The last time you’d hung out with them had been over a fortnight ago. The last time you smoked with one another was even longer than that, and you find yourself brimming with childlike anticipation. 

You’d already cleaned the modest apartment top to bottom (not that it’s hard - a studio in the heart of the city only really guarantees a place to sleep and not much else) when the two come knocking, a lazy smirk playing on Hanta’s lips while Hitoshi offers you a small nod, his tongue toying with the piercings adorning his bottom lip. 

The fact that you don’t immediately heat up and squirm in aroused embarrassment is really a testament to how much you and your composure have steeled over the years. 

When you’d first met them in college, you couldn’t look in their direction without feeling that swoop of something tugging at your gut, making you stutter, gape, or, once, spill the contents of an entire tray of food all down your front. 

It still shocks you they even befriended you after that, the awkward boy who only wore oversized hoodies and couldn’t make eye contact, but you’ve learned not to question your good fortune. 

Of course, they aren’t just pretty faces — but, oh, pretty faces they are, with Hanta’s smooth, tan skin, mischievous, straight toothed smile, and shiny black hair, and Hitoshi’s perpetually tired, kind gaze, various tattoos and piercings creeping over his pale skin, and ringed, long fingers. No, they also have the gall, the audacity, to be good people and even better friends. 

It makes you a little sick to think about, how sweet they are to you and how attracted to them you are, but you put it out of your mind as often as you can. 

Even if they were interested, which they most certainly are not, you’re terrified of being another one of their groupies that follow them around, begging, vying for their attention and a chance to bed one of them. 

These people are rarely, if ever, successful, instead kindly rebuffed by the always smiling Sero or the soft spoken Shinsou, a fact you would feel good about if not for the reality that you’d be met with the same fate if you tried anything near what you’ve secretly fantasized about. 

So, instead, you get pleasantly high with the two of them every once in a while, soaking up their friendship like a sponge, knowing it’s all you’re likely to get. Despite your gratefulness that you get anything at all, you can’t help the hunger. 

The want.

“Yo, you good? Where’d you go?” Hanta calls out to you playfully, nudging your pajama pants-clad leg with his where he sits beside you on your mattress. 

You blink rapidly, bullying your want back into a more feasible, ignorable shape in your chest, shooting him a half smile that feels fake, even to you. 

“Nowhere, sorry! I was just thinking about work,” you lie, shrugging. You don’t miss the way Hanta glances at Hitoshi where he sits on a beanbag, your face heating in embarrassment in response to their blatant attention. 

Are you really this transparent? Mortifying.

You wave off their concern while trying to smooth your grin out into something more real, reaching for your cart where it lies lost in your sheets. 

“Who cares! Weed! Let’s get high, yes?” Your overly exaggerated enthusiasm works, at least a little, Hanta whooping in excitement and Hitoshi’s expression smoothing out into something less troubled. 

“That’s what I’m fuckin’ talking about,” Hanta laughs while pulling out his pipe, slender fingers plucking two small baggies from his bag, before tossing the other to Hitoshi. “You finally gonna smoke with us, babe?”

The term of endearment makes your stomach roll, but you manage to shake your head, pouting. “Hell no, not unless you want to bury me when I inevitably choke on the smoke and die in this shithole. Lowkey, would rather kill myself.”

Hitoshi makes a face — he’s never liked your fatalistic way of speech, but it’s a habit you just can’t kick (kind of like the two of them).

“Don’t say shit like that.” He says your name, low but firm, even as he rolls himself a frankly beautiful looking joint, tattooed digits handling the weed gracefully. “You know we wouldn’t let that happen.”

Hanta nods emphatically and you have to look away, lest your face give away everything, choosing to take a hit from your pen instead, shrugging. 

“Yeah, you guys are my knights in shining fuckin’ armor,” you say on the exhale, a puff of flavored smoke filling the air by your face. You can already feel it, the high settling in your bones (you’ve always been a bit of a lightweight), and you sigh, tilting your head back. “Ah, there we fucking go.”

This time, you do miss them looking, but not at each other — at you. At your bared neck, your pursed lips. The barely there peek at your pink tongue. 

You take another hit and then another, your brain filling with the fog, making it a lot harder to think about why you’re so on guard around the two, about why you don’t do this shit every day. 

“Slow down, baby,” Hanta chides, but you know it’s mostly for show. You crack open an eye to watch him light his pipe, taking a steady, deep inhale before exhaling with a low sound that sends a bolt of heat to your gut. 

You ignore it to switch your focus to Hitoshi who catches the lighter Hanta tosses him and lights his joint before taking a drag. The only sign it affects him at all is the way he slumps further into your beanbag, his eyes falling even further to half mast where they rest on you. 

A part of you preens under the way they both seem to give you their undivided attention every time you do this, but the rest of you cringes and fights to run and hide — this time, like most times, the latter wins out. 

You pat around your sheets, searching for the remote to your tiny television at the end of your bed to toss it at Hitoshi’s chest, successfully ridding yourself of the weight of his purple gaze. 

“Pick something easy to watch. Nothing scary, I'll shit my pants.”

Hanta huffs out a laugh while blowing smoke through his nostrils, something that shouldn’t be hot, but absolutely is. 

“Try that again. Nicely, this time.” Hitoshi raises a pierced eyebrow at you, the action and the order making you throb. 

You can hear a soft ‘oh shit, okay’ off to the side of you, but you ignore it, that heavy focus you thought you’d deflected hitting you at full force. You don’t shudder, but it’s a near thing, his tone seeping through your defenses and warming you down to your marrow. 

“Can you put on something easy to watch, please?” You want to sound more careless, more jokey, but your voice comes out breathy. A little thready. Hanta exhales harder out your periphery and self consciousness creeps back in like a well worn coat. 

You shrink back into yourself, curling up against your pillows, further away from Hanta at your side and Hitoshi on the other side of the room, your eyes trained on the television. 

Thankfully, Hitoshi doesn’t push, instead turning on the TV like you’d asked. 

Later, you’ll blame the weed for fucking with your senses because you remember just a beat too late what exactly the last thing you were watching was. 

“Wait, fuck, wait-" you scramble, but you’re too slow, too syrupy from the substances coursing through your body, and all you really manage to do is get even more tangled up in your sheets. 

A soft whine emanates from the tinny speakers, followed by a series of moans, gasps, groans, and slick sounds. You clench your eyes shut, hoping that, somehow, if you don’t open your eyes, there won’t be graphic porn playing in front of the two men you’ve been attracted to for years. 

Unfortunately, the childish notion does not work and when you gather the strength to crack an eye open, both Hanta and Hitoshi’s eyes are trained on the images of a woman being tongue fucked within an inch of her life. 

“Oh my god,” Hanta breathes, his fingers clenching the sheets beside him, “I had no idea you even knew what porn was. This is the best day of my life.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna kill myself. I’m gonna step into the next room and you will find me swinging from the rafters, fuck.”

The embarrassment is practically pouring off of you, even as the noises coming from the screen make your hole clench in arousal. 

Hitoshi says your name in slight reprimand which does the opposite of help, an anguished whine escaping your throat. 

“Please turn it off, please,” you beg quietly, pressing your palms to your eyes. Not even the floaty feeling the weed is giving you is enough to spare you the full brunt of shame you feel in this moment.

Hanta doesn’t seem to get the memo, making a noise of protest. “Hell no! As a fellow munch, I love watching someone eat box, especially if you can tell they’re an aficionado, much like myself. Game recognizes game.”

Another wounded animal sound slips through your lips and you collapse, burying your burning face in your pillow while your libido attempts to conjure up images of the two of them eating you out and getting off on it.

“Stop it, Hanta,” you can hear the smile in Hitoshi’s voice even as he turns the volume down a little. “You’re embarrassing him.”

“Aw fuck, sorry dude. Was I pushing it too far?” The genuine apology has you sitting up, despite the molten lava in your veins, shooting him a half smile. 

“N-nah, it’s chill—“

“No, he’s horny.” Hitoshi’s blunt words stop you in your tracks, your eyes widening and mouth dropping open to protest - to say anything, really - but the weed slows your thoughts and you just end up gaping. 

Hanta’s worry morphs quickly into something predatory, something wolfish as he stares you down, eyes flitting over your form as if to find whatever clue Hitoshi picked up on so quickly. 

You press your thighs together, head spinning. “What, I — no! I mean, what?” Not your best work, but what could be done? You tried!

Your sputtering only seems to confirm it to the pair, Hitoshi’s already heavy gaze growing more heated. 

“You imagining the best head you’ve ever gotten? ‘s that what’s got you so hot and bothered?” He almost sounds casual, like he’s asking about the goddamn weather and damn, if that doesn’t get you, a choked sound creeping up your throat, unbidden. 

You barely manage to shake your head, shaking it again soon after in attempts to clear it, but between the high and your arousal, it’s impossible. 

“Uh, I — no. I’ve never — no one has ever done that to me. I just — I like to think about it.” Fuck, your tongue is loose, and you watch as your words hit the pair. 

Hanta’s eyes widen, his pupils blooming in real time while Hitoshi’s tongue slips out to nudge his piercings, his gaze darkening. 

“You hear that ‘Toshi?” Hanta’s usually bright voice is gravelly, and even though he’s talking to Hitoshi, his eyes are on you. “He just likes to think about it.”

Fuck, you feel like you’re going to die. A soft gasp falls free without your consent, much to Hitoshi’s delight. 

“I wonder who he thinks about. A celebrity, maybe? Or maybe it’s someone we know?”

“Ooh!” Hanta eats it up, cocking his head at you in mock thoughtfulness. “Who could it be? Shoto is pretty hot, but he’s probably too soft for our baby.”

Our baby. The words nearly stop you from breathing, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before you get a hold of yourself, but it’s too late. Hitoshi and Hanta are looking at you like they want to consume you, like keeping up your walls for all these years were for naught. 

They could always see through you. They know you. 

“Please,” The word slips out, soft and thin. “Please, don’t fuckin’ tease me.”

Both of them soften at that, Hanta moving across the bed to be closer to you, one of his hands pulling your head to rest in the crook of his neck, rubbing soothing circles on your nape. 

Against your better judgement, you melt against him, the weed in your system urging you closer, melding you to his side. 

“Aw, don’t worry,” Hanta hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We won’t let Shoto have you. You’re already ours.”

You blink at that, eyes wide as you attempt to extricate yourself from his grasp, to get a look at his face and judge what he’s saying, but he doesn’t let you get far, instead grasping your jaw and kissing you. 

His lips are softer than you thought they'd be and you melt into it, the chaste pecks, just a pressing of lips.

It deepens quickly though and you feel heady, having never been kissed with such intention, with such skill, with such desire.

His tongue probes your mouth, the kiss getting messy as he maps out the wet cavern, before sucking your tongue in past his lips, the action drawing a wanton moan from you. 

The sound permeates the space between you and Hanta groans in response, his other head cupping your face and holding you still so he can continue to ravage your mouth. 

“Slow down, Hanta, we don’t wanna kill him,” Hitoshi’s voice sounds from behind you and you jolt, pulling away from Hanta with a string of spit connecting your lips. 

Hanta makes a petulant noise, but doesn’t argue. Instead, his big hands come up to rest at your waist and pull you into his lap, giving Hitoshi room to slide onto the bed behind you.

Anticipation thrums beneath your skin and you feel yourself soaking the seat of your boxers as you hold painfully still, thighs quivering with the strain of keeping your crotch away from Hanta's.

You're expecting Hitoshi to start grabbing and groping at you with the same hunger Hanta displayed, but you should know better. Quick and dirty isn't really his style.

This is made quickly evident by the way he presses himself against your back, effectively sandwiching you between their two broad bodies, pushing his face into crook of your neck, and inhaling.

You feel embarrassed for some reason — you didn't shower before they came over, having spent most of your day agonizing and cleaning in equal parts, so the idea that all he's doing right now is smelling you is unnerving.

"'Toshi," your voice comes out quieter than you'd like as you try and pull away from him, only to be stopped by one of Hanta's hands back on your jaw, holding you still.

"Be good," Hitoshi whispers, his breath heating the skin of your nape while his hands creep towards the waistband of your pajama pants, your hips twitching instinctively, both towards and away from his questing hands.

It's not even that you don't want this — no one in the room is under that impression, least of all you — but you're so overwhelmed. You're more turned on than you've ever been in your life, slick almost certainly seeping through all your layers, and the idea that these two men who you've been pining after for ages are about to see you at your most stripped bare is staggering.

Hanta seems to notice your internal struggle, the hand on your jaw tilting your head down so he can look you in the eye.

"You okay, baby? Need us to slow down?" He's earnest, red-rimmed, dark eyes flitting across your expression for any indication of true discomfort. It makes your heart kick in your chest and you shake your head slowly.

"It's just -" you pause, voice catching as Hitoshi noses up to your earlobe, cold piercings meeting heated skin, "- it's embarrassing. I want you guys so much."

The latter part of your sentence comes out akin to a whisper. Admittance, no matter how obvious the statement is, is a leap. One you'd have to be hard-pressed to make, if it ever happened at all.

Both men pause completely at the quiet confession and urge to flee comes back at full force. You almost launch yourself out of Hanta's lap, a half-formed excuse blaming the weed for your comment already at the tip of your tongue, but before you can do anything at all, the world spins and you're on your back.

The movement rumples your clothes, your hoodie now exposing your navel and the wet spot at the crotch of your bottoms to the cool air coming from your open window.

Hanta and Hitoshi's glassy eyes trail over your newly dishevled appearance and you try to bury your face into the pillow beneath your head, your face heating up quickly. You can't look at them, not when they look at you like that.

Like you're more than a fuck or a fling or a friend. Like you're something.

Like you're everything.

"Is our baby stupid, Hanta?" Hitoshi speaks first, tone like gravel, and though he's addressing the man at his side, he can't look away from you.

Shame rockets through your body and you shake your head vehemently before Hanta can respond. You know you're a lot of things — awkward, pathetic, soggy — but you aren't stupid.

The corners of Hitoshi's lips tick up at your reaction. He looks amused by you, almost like one looks at a pet who's just completed a simple trick. It makes you want to hide again, but when Hanta chuckles, soft and dark, reaching down to toy with the drawstring on your pants, you freeze, caught.

"He's not stupid," he replies, tugging the knot loose. The bottoms slacken around your waist.

Hitoshi hums in what you assume (hope) is agreement, one of his hands carefully pushing your hoodie further up, exposing you more. "If he's not stupid, why doesn't he know how much we want him? How much we care?"

Your mouth opens, shocked, then snaps shut. Hanta hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your boxers and pants, tugging them down until they get caught between your ass and the bed. They can't be removed unless you help, but you're stunned into inaction.

"You didn't know? We're not very subtle, sweetheart."

Of course you didn't know. You never would've assumed two of the sweetest and sexiest people you've ever had the pleasure of meeting would be into you, but now that you're faced with the brunt of their attention and attraction, you feel a little foolish.

"You can't blame me." You glance up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the swimming of your head and the heat pooling in your gut. "I mean, it's - it's you guys. People proposition you all the time and you always turn them down. Kinda thought you were dating each other at one point."

Hanta snorts at that, bumping shoulders with Hitoshi who rolls his eyes, before curling his fingers in the hair at the base of Hanta's mullet and kissing him, hard. Your eyes widen, cunt clenching at the display.

They aren't shy or unfamiliar with one another — no, Hitoshi is easily pushing his tongue past Hanta's lips and dragging it across every surface inside, drool collecting at the corners of his mouth. They've done this before, it's obvious, and you can't help but imagine what it looks like when they're alone. How far they've gone together.

Your fantasies are cut short, Hitoshi pulling away from Hanta with a soft groan, thumbing Hanta's plump, pink lower lip, before turning his attention back to you. "We like each other just fine, but we also like you. Let us take care of you."

There's nothing you can do but nod at this point, tired of fighting the force that's pulling the three of you together. If they end up tossing you away after they sober up, you'll deal with it. It might take anywhere between a few years and the rest of your life, but you'll recover. For now, you want to be greedy.

You want to take.

Hanta watches your expression change and he smiles, wide and horny. "There he is. C'mon, 'Toshi, help me take his pants off. Wanna get a good look at his cock. Bet he's hard, huh?"

You shiver at his words, but lift your hips obediently when Hitoshi tugs them down. He exhales hard at the string of slick connecting your puffy folds to the soaked fabric, his hand clenching in the clothing before he tosses it aside.

"Fuck." Hanta leans down, eye-level with your pussy, his warm breath wafting over you, making you spasm. "He's so goddamn wet."

He sounds reverent, worshipful almost. Two long digits run up your seam, fingertips coming away drenched and you whimper at the contact. He lifts them to Hitoshi's lips, surpassing the pierced flesh to press your essence directly against his tongue.

His eyes flutter shut on a breathless hum, sucking Hanta's fingers like he's sucking dick. You watch his jaw work and cheeks hollow as Hanta pinkens, before pulling them free with a wet 'pop'.

"You're gonna make me cum in my sweats, dude." His words, while jokey, come out breathy and strained. Hitoshi looks delighted.

"Not before our baby does." He nods down at you, biting his lip. "Go on. I want to watch."

Hanta lets out a disbeliving laugh, but follows Hitoshi's instructions, laying on his stomach so that he's inches away from your core. Your cock is swollen and throbbing, twitching at Hanta's proximity. He takes the same two fingers, now wet with Hitoshi's spit, and spreads you open, watching you with an eagerness akin to that of a wild animal faced with its prime choice of prey.

Embarrassment creeps back in and you reach up to cover your face, only to have your hands taken into Hitoshi's own as he moves to sit behind you, pulling your upper body against his.

"None of that." He chastizes. It's not mean, but it is forceful, and so is the grip he has on your wrists.

The tightness of his grasp is distracting enough, but everything flies out of your mind at the first lick Hanta gives to your cunt.

The weed enhances everything, makes you feel like you can discern the texture of every tastebud as they drag against your sensitive nub. It's electric, so much so that your eyes immediately clench shut and you moan. Loudly.

Hitoshi kisses your temple, the cool piercings resting against your warm skin, before he tilts your head up so he can kiss you on the lips instead.

He doesn't kiss you like he kissed Hanta. This is so much more possessive — wet, sloppy, and controlling. Wrenches your mouth open and sucks on your tongue like it's his to do so with. All you can do is grip his arm, trying to stay grounded. It's nearly impossible, though, between the sex and the high that's still lingering.

Hanta sucks your cock into his mouth, his tongue rubbing circles into the underside, pleasure zinging up and down your spine in a way you've never experienced before. You gasp into Hitoshi's mouth, tears leaking out the corners of your closed eyes, while Hitoshi threads his fingers into Hanta's hair, pulling him further against you.

The action makes Hanta moan, the sounds vibrating around your clit. Your hips jerk, grinding against his tongue, and you pull away from Hitoshi to apologize. "S-shit, 'm sorry, 'm sorry -" you stutter out, whines underscoring every word.

Instead of stopping you, Hanta looks up at you through his thick lashes and opens his mouth wide, his tongue flat against the nub. The bed shakes as he thrusts against it, hazy, leisurely. You feel Hitoshi shudder at his display, at the way your cum coats his tongue, at the way he waits to be used.

"Go on, baby." Hitoshi whispers against the shell of your ear, grinding his hard cock against your lower back which effectively pushes your own further against Hanta. You don't know why you're surprised to feel evidence of Hitoshi's arousal, but you are, your head falling back against his shoulder.

Hanta hums in encouragement and you whine, rolling your hips towards his face, dragging your sex along his tongue again and again and again. You don't know how to keep a rhythm, but you chase your high, the weed making it feel like it's coming quicker than it usually does when you're alone.

As your pleasure mounts, your noises increase. You're whimpering and cursing every other word, torn between pushing back against Hitoshi's dick and Hanta's mouth.

"So fucking good, baby, you're being such a good fucking boy," Hitoshi growls against the shell of your ear, his rutting losing rhythm as his cock leaves trails of precum against the small of your back where he's soaked through his sweats. His tattooed fingers tighten in Hanta's hair. Hanta's eyes roll back at the feeling and you can relate.

You feel like you can't breathe. Your cunt is spasming beneath Hanta's ministrations, the coil in your stomach tightening and tightening until its a hairsbreadth away from snapping.

"'Toshi, Hanta, 'm gonna - fuck - somethin's gonna come out -"

You can literally feel Hitoshi pulse, dick kicking, at your slurred words. He holds Hanta down, hot mouth enveloping your cock completely while two of those long fingers press inside you and curl up.

They hit your spot with expert precision, massaging it until that razor thin wire snaps.

You cum harder than you ever have at your own hands, your stomach dropping into a freefall. You absolutely soak the sheets and Hanta's face, bucking and jerking as clear liquid sprays with an intensity that forces his fingers free from your cunt. He continues to suck your cock, moaning all the while, prolonging your orgasm until you're openly crying against Hitoshi's shoulder.

Through the haze of pleasure-bordering-on-overstimulation, you just barely register a choked groan leaving Hitoshi as his hips stutter and warmth blooms against your back. He slumps back into your pillows, loosening his grip in Hanta's hair to tug him gently away from your pulsing core.

Hanta goes easily, detaching himself from you with such a graphic, wet, suction sound, you visibly wince. He's absolutely covered in you, but he doesn't seem to mind, sucking his fingers clean with a self-satisfied smirk.

"I'm good, huh?" He's smug as fuck, but you can't blame him. That was the best thing that's ever happened to you, you think, and you say that, filter utterly demolished.

To your surprise, the tips of Hanta's ears pinken. He's embarrassed. Flattered. You would tease him for this if it wasn't for the fact you're about to fall asleep, wrung dry (literally and figuratively), nestled into Hitoshi's side.

"Yeah, you are." Hitoshi answers for you, reaching for Hanta's hand to pull him to your other side, the two of them lifting the sheets to cover your bare lower half. "So are you."

He presses a kiss to your temple before leaning over you to kiss Hanta, gentle and chaste. You want to say something, anything, but the world is slipping away from you like handfuls of sand, and all you can manage is tiny grunt of dissatisfaction.

Hanta laughs softly, pecking your slack lips. "Sleep, baby. We'll be here when you wake up."

As you give into the sweet release of sleep, eyes falling shut, Hanta's words reverberate in your mind.

We'll be here.

You choose to believe them.

[imanisays]

Mo’Nique as Jazmin Biltmore in Phat Girlz (2006)

.

.

Aunties outfits was cute as hell in this movie.

[vaguely-concerned]

there's this borderline hysterical laugh garak breaks into a couple of times during the early seasons that is so special to me. like. this man. this man is so high (constantly) and probably drunk (frequently) and he's at all times teetering on the very brink of despair that only pure spite, immense stubbornness, and getting to gaze at julian bashir's smiling face across the lunch table once a week is holding him back from tipping over. and then he has to deal with people like skrain dukat and gul toran on top of that and you can practically hear the cracks forming as he's barely holding on to whatever remains of his sanity by the skin of his teeth

[bumblebeebats]

Must scifi be "good"? Is it not enough to watch David Tennant and Catherine Tate run about, yelling? and also a nonbinary transwoman is there?

[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 💀"

[goddessofbees]

Alright, ask #3: Joker. I 100% believe he would try to steal the kids for some evil shit like "choose one twin to live and one to die" nonsense. How would that scenario go down?

How protective is Auntie Gotham(Lady gotham) over the babies. Oh, what about Nona Death(is Madam Death married or friends with Clockwork in this au?)

Mhahahahahhaha! I've been thinking how I would get rid of the Joker in this, thanks!

I'd imagine he wouldn't get very far after threatening Dan and Jason's kids, but one wrong person saw Red Hood with the twins while he was going to his meeting with his goons and informed the Joker, then of course the elaborate plan of stealing the kiddos, which would be a very hard thing to do but let's say it was one of the times Bruce was babysitting (sorry to anyone who likes Bruce/batman he not my favorite). he's not babysitting ever after that.

Then of course the joker then broadcasts all over asking Red Hood to pick one of his twins, well let's just say Dan watching that would in fact make him go as Murderous as when Jazz died and with being the ghost king.... Well the joker certainly isn't making it out of that one alive....

(WARNING BLOOD AND SLIGHT GORE) not much but just in case you know

[generatedblacklove]

Generated Black Love

[ttroubledwaters]

I WANT A FIC WITH A GOOD REPRESENTATION OF JAMES AND REMUS' FRIENDSHIP. I feel they would 100% have a "you came?" "you called." type of friendship and I rarely see it. Where are my fluffy prongs and moony moments!?!?! when reading wolfstar fics, remus would let the girls shit on james LIKE NOOOOO James became animagus for him and remus would defend that man till he was in his grave because of it. AND JAMES WOULD DO THE SAME. needless to say I yearn for their friendship idc.

[hilacopter]

hey remember that time social justice activists boycotted a film company into erasing jewish representation from their movie

[imanisays]

Jill Scott - (The Way) music video.

[mikeslawyer]

[daniel-is-me]

Dave. Small karkat. Two different reactions because I ended up drawing two