#// tw death mention

[theocddiaries]

Sonic: What are you still doing awake? Tails: Changing the oil in my car. What the hell do you think I'm doing?! …Sorry, I stole that from the Italian family next door. They've been going at it all night. [From neighboring house] Luigi: Mario, can I have five dollars for lunch tomorrow? Mario: Yeah, sure, just let me just go check my room full of gold and jewels! Tails: You see, every first thing he says is not the real thing. Sonic: You're still worried about the death thing, buddy? Mario [from his house]: No! He's worried about his taxes! What does it look like to you?! Luigi: Mario! Stop meddling in the neighbors' lives!

[nanaboo-pumpkaboo]

It's ok if you kill people as long as you are funny on the internet

[incorrectbatfam]

The only acceptable trans Tim headcanon would be Tim introducing himself to the batfam as a boy from the get-go with such confidence that no one questions him. Then, his first solo case as Robin is investigating the disappearance of Jack and Janet Drake's "daughter," so he pretends to have a twin sister by forging a bunch of documents and photoshopping family pictures. He then fabricates evidence of her death, committing multiple crimes in the process, and holds a fake funeral at the end. Because if his previous name is dead to him, he's gonna kill it the Tim Drake way

[hamsterdads]

having a lot of toh thoughts tonight, so here's a few :] I think that king and the collector would be life partners ( probably platonically, but mostly just whatever keeps them together forever hehe)

i also think the collector would take luz's passing the hardest (given their history with it and all...) and i think she'd know this and do her best to prepare them for it. so here's me trying to deal with all that.

[landrylovesmatcha]

she’s everything 💕

tw: death mention

[stars-bean]

ꕥ The Addams Family ꕥ ➛ 2.14 - "Morticia's Dilemma"

[thebibliosphere]

I was thinking about this a lot yesterday, but one of the things I really struggle with post almost dying in 2019, was how almost every medical provider focused on the effects of the trauma and not the actual physical fallout.

Like, yes. It was immensely traumatic and trauma profoundly affects the brain, but with hindsight (and by hindsight I mean I’ve been grinding my gears over this for the last four years) I can’t help but feel the ball got lobbed over the “mental health” fence a little too quickly.

I had fucking hypoxia, for God’s sake.

Why was no one more concerned that I can’t remember things or that my skill level as a writer and editor dropped substantially in the aftermath. (I’ve gradually regained most of it, but there are still things I have to pause and look up that were once second nature to me. I hate it. It’s traumatic every time it happens because there’s just a blank hole where Knowledge used to be and God dammit I worked hard for that and now it’s tumbleweed.)

And I know the answer is Covid. I know the world shut down just as I started getting answers and I’m one of the lucky ones because I’m still here. But fuck me. I don’t know how they expected me to CBT and mindfulness my way out of that one.

[freshmoviequotes]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024)

[reunitedinterlude]

dnp + ghosts (1, 2, 3)

[agenderfrenchfry]

I’m not going to do one of those “REBLOG OR YOU’RE A HORRIBLE PERSON!!!!!!1!” posts, but please, if you have the time, read about Robert Roberson.

Neurodivergent people, we especially need to pay attention to this. This is a man who was sent to death row because he appeared too “stoic”. He was formally diagnosed with autism after. I’m sure you already know that this is only one part of a larger pattern of flaws. Fellow victims of the US’ crap legal system, we need to say something. I don’t care if you think it won’t work, we still have to give them hell. They may have power, but they need to know damn well we won’t sit by and let people die.

Greg Abbott’s number (yes, of course it’s Texas) is 361-264-9653. Give him a call if you have the time. If calls freak you out, text. If you don’t want to do that, sign the petition. You have the chance to change history right now.

Most importantly, take care of yourself. All this tragedy drains the soul, especially when it hits close to home. After you’re done with this post, drink some water and watch something nice or, better yet, step away from the screen for a bit. You deserve it and more.

[frownyalfred]

actually I think a lot of people whisper their confessions to Superman because they know there’s a — greater than average — chance he might be listening after all. wishes, secrets they take to their death bed, things they don’t want to be judged for but need to say.

and Clark takes it all on his shoulders with the grace he exhibits in the rest of his life. until one day that voice in his ear is familiar. there’s a heart, racing but beginning to slow. and it’s Bruce’s words that come to him, choked out between the sound of his lungs filling with blood.

and it doesn’t matter that Clark shatters the sound barrier traveling across the globe to a random alley in Gotham. by the time he arrives, it’s already too late. Bruce had chosen the last few seconds, knowing Clark would hear him. knowing he’d pass those words along to his children. knowing he would burden his closest friend with his last words, and still trusting (cursing?) him with them anyway.

[jaybirbie]

The first time she remembers seeing him, is when she is guiding the soul of Dr. Jazzmine Fenton. The world renowned author and psychologist.

Jazz had lived a long life, it only been a few days after her 87th birthday. She had passed gently in her sleep.

Death of the Endless was used to the people she guided having some questions or confusion.

Jazz was a rare one. She was quiet. Just giving Death an understanding nod and her arm.

At the end of their journey, before Jazz entered the Sunless lands. She stopped.

Turning to lock eyes with Death, the woman spoke.

"HELP HIM".

There was weight behind her words, this wasn't a request.

Before Death could answer, Jazz had turned and entered the sunless lands.

It was the heavy weight of the womans words that had Death returning to where she had collected the soul of Jazzmine Fenton.

There she met him.

Sitting next to the cooling body, holding her hand as tears silently ran down his cheeks.

He couldn't be more than 14. His sickly pale skin and fluffy black hair reminded her fondly of her brother.

To her surprise, the boy turned to look at her. Could see her.

The heavy sharp look behind his eyes reminded her of Dream as well.

"She's gone". He spoke quietly.

It wasn't a question, she nodded anyway.

He looked back at the body, gently placing the hand he held back on the bed. Standing up, he kissed her forehead and stepped away.

"Can you take me too?" Barely a whisper.

Her confusion continued. She shook her head. " it's not your time." She replied gently, laying a hand on his shoulder only to startle back as she felt his soul. He was dead.

The surprise must have shown on her face as the boy let out a defeated sigh. As more tears filled his eyes.

"Then when, it's been decades."

Gathering herself, she put both her hands back on his shoulders, looking down at the dead child. She didn't understand herself. The boy was one of hers, yet she hadn't given him her gift, and she couldn't guide him. There was no path for him to be guided down.

Softly she rubbed the boys shoulders and gently smiled before replying.

" I don't know," she paused, "but we'll figure it out".

She took the boys hand as she led him away from the room.

Time to cash in on the favour Dream owed her. She had a feeling her brother and his immortal lover will have a positive affect on the sad young boy, while she figures out why the boy is stuck.

Part 1??

[incorrectbatfam]

Alfred gets sick of Bruce breaking and losing stuff on patrol so he gets a label maker and starts naming items after the kids

Alfred: I got you a new phone, just like you asked. Its name is Jason. Try not to let it die.

Bruce, tearing up: Why would you say that—

[lgbtqtext]

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

If you allow yandere, then Can I request a yandere! Catnap x Creator! reader?

Time are in the middle of hour of joy, and Reader are in playcare, catnap are chasing reader and reader are desperately running away from him. and reader is creator or the person who came up with the design of Catnap.

'God..why did this happen? Why did this have to happen?? God, please make this stop...tell me I'm dreaming..'

Sadly, this was no dream.

The screams, the bloodshed, the senseless slaughter..

All of it was very much real, and you were right in the middle of it all, currently hiding within Playcare. You didn't even know what was going on exactly or why.

Everywhere you looked, there was another dead body on the ground, in the grass, and splayed across the stairs...all of whom were either your coworkers, scientists you've never seen before, security personnel, or innocent visitors.

Many of them had similar wounds--claw marks from none other than Catnap himself, who you saw stalking around the premises, looking for survivors.

But why would he do something like this?

How was he even capable of such violence?

It was supposed to be a normal and simple day:

You clocked in, checked up on Catnap's well-being after he put the children to sleep, and then left to attend to other matters. It was a mundane routine, but you were always excited to get up and go to work because of him.

However, you were running a tad bit late today and feared you'd get an earful from your supervisor considering the company's strict tardiness rules.

But on your way to Playcare, the emergency sirens resounded all throughout the facility. You had no idea what was going on, although the distant screams made you utterly terrified and had you running straight to that area, praying you'll find shelter from whatever danger lurked nearby...

Instead you ran straight into the scene of a massacre.

All orchestrated by Catnap and several mini-Smiling Critters who got loose, attacking and devouring whatever poor human got caught in their sights.

You had to throw on your gas mask quickly to avoid inhaling the red smoke. There was very little lingering in the air still, but judging from the corpses who still wore them or had them torn from their heads, they must have been prepared for this massive containment breach.

Even so, none were spared.

Catnap was probably smart enough to know the purpose of those masks. And he put them all to sleep. Permanently.

Yet somehow he hasn't spotted you yet, and you hoped to every god above that he didn't.

This pained you especially as you were on the designer team for the Smiling Critters. You actually made the first drawing of Catnap and presented it to your boss, who approved it right away...but only after making a few minor major adjustments.

Who knew something so sweet and innocent would turn into something so deadly?

He was supposed to be nothing more than a cartoon character brought to life and a plush toy (that unfortunately got recalled). How the higher-ups managed to achieve that with him and the other critters without your team ever knowing...you had no idea, but you were thrilled by the results.

You adored Catnap, and he was well aware that you created the idea of him--almost worshipping you, in a sense, and being the only human he'd properly communicate with.

In turn, you've communicated with him healthily, treating him like a person instead of an experiment. He did mutter strange things sometimes and talked about freedom, but you never probed him on that nor reminded him that he was a prisoner here.

No matter how true it may be, no toy deserves to be told that.

Now that you were here, hiding from the very thing you had loved and created, you weren't sure if you were even looking at Catnap anymore.

It may look like him, but it's not him.

Catnap is not a killing machine.

Whatever those scientists did turned him into a monster. A creature they failed to keep in check.

And he snapped, slaughtering many of your acquaintances and innocent families interested in the adoption program.

He kept muttering about an "Hour of Joy", which you've heard him speak of in the past. But you've always assumed he was talking about an upcoming birthday party or event within the Playhouse the other Smiling Critters were planning..

Not a giant bloodbath that painted the floors and walls of Playcare red.

You ducked behind a trash canister as you watched Catnap creep towards a survivor, who was also wearing a gas mask and breathing hard. Seeing that their leg was torn off at the knee, you knew there was no hope of helping them.

The moment they were spotted, their fate was sealed.

They were his prey now.

You couldn't look away as he paused for a moment, before reaching forward with a quick swipe, tearing off their mask. His claws left big gash marks across their face as they wailed in pain, but it didn't last long as he quickly pounced and slashed their throat next--leaving them to choke on their own blood.

Seconds later, their body stilled, becoming just like the rest of those surrounding them.

You made the horrible mistake of exhaling a shaky breath, the mask amplifying the noise.

That's when Catnap whipped his head towards you, those white dots growing larger.

"YOU. COME HERE."

Realizing your cover's blown, you jumped up and knocked the trash canister over, hoping it'd distract him long enough for you to race inside Home Sweet Home. But the diversion barely did anything, as you heard the loud stomps of the purple beast practically on your heels.

He lunged at the door just as you turned and slammed it shut, locking it and trying to shove a chair beneath the knobs. There was loud knocking on the other side, but eventually it stopped.

As soon as it did, you rushed into one of the many bunkbed rooms, finding it strangely devoid of children, scientists, and caretakers.

What happened to them all?

Did they evacuate safely?

Did they know about this ahead of time?

You had no idea, and quite frankly..now wasn't the time to find out. Rather, it was time for you to think of a way out of this wretched place, but you feared it won't be easy.

You knew the orphanage's interior like the back of your hand--the problem were the little Smiling Critters that you could currently hear pitter-pattering down the halls.

He put them here on patrol.

If any of them saw you..surely they'd alert him.

On the brightside, there were no traces of red smoke to be found, so you briefly took the mask off to give yourself a breather. Sweat poured down your face, and your throat ran dry; you could practically feel your own heartbeat pounding within it as you tried to figure out your next move.

Maybe if you wait here long enough, he'll get bored and leave...

Or maybe he'll-

All of the sudden, a critter leapt out from underneath one of the covers and tried latching onto your head. You yelled out as it screeched right beside your ear, attempting to bite into it and get a taste of your flesh, but you managed to throw it down to the ground and keep it crushed under your shoe.

You grabbed a nearby metal rod from a destroyed bedframe, pointing the sharp end at its throat..

Only to realize it was a Catnap, who looked perfectly intact aside from a little dirt caking its plush body.

Both of you had a bit of a staring contest.

And in the end....you couldn't find it in you to kill it.

All you could do was stare down at the creature, tears in your eyes as you watched it wriggle and snarl, pawing at your foot. It was barely putting up a fight now, which made you realize it probably didn't want to attack you.

Rather..it seemed hungry.

But why would it be hungry for human flesh?

Was Catnap the same way? Was he hungry or just killing for sport?

More importantly...why was he killing at all and tormenting you like this?

Maybe he was angry about his toyline being recalled, or the unfair treatment he's gotten here by the scientists. Or perhaps he felt outcasted by the other Smiling Critters.

You didn't know if any of them were still around, but for all you knew they could be just like him.

Hungry, rampaging monsters.

The ringing phone snapped you back to reality, and you cautiously took your foot off the tiny Catnap. It got up and skittered away into a nearby hole in the rotting wall, apparently having lost its appetite.

You quickly answered the machine, praying it was somebody upstairs trying to get in contact with you. Maybe a survivor who knew how to get you out. Before you gave them a chance to speak, you went first, being so scared, frustrated, and overwhelmed by everything that's happened thus far.

You just wanted this nightmare to be over already.

"Thank god. What the hell is going on?! It's like a fucking slaughterhouse down here-"

"It's a celebration. The Hour of Joy, little mouse."

Your blood ran cold, realizing who that voice belonged to. 'The Toys...they know how to use these phones..?'

"C-Catnap?"

"[Y/n]..why did you run away?" He whispered hoarsely. "I didn't know it was you."

"Wha...b-because you were killing people!" Your voice grew shaky, confused as to why he sounded so calm. "And you would've killed me, too!!"

"No."

"...what?"

"You are special to me, little mouse. You breathed life into me. You must be kept safe, for you are pure..unlike these wretched souls." He murmured. "They would have taken you away from me. Forever. I do not want that."

"Y-You're..not making any sense, Catnap." You struggled to wrap your head around his words. "If someone told you I'm quitting or getting fired or transferring..they lied. Nobody's taking me away from you..is that what you're afraid of? Is that why you did all of this?"

"I did it..for the Prototype...and for you. He told me I could spare one soul when our Hour of Joy is up."

Your stomach sank, but before you could ask him more about this "prototype", he cut you off.

"Shhhhhhhh. No more talking. No more running. Sleep, little mouse."

By the time you realized red smoke was starting to fill up the room, it was already far too late as you began coughing. You dropped the phone and frantically searched for your gas mask.

No way in hell were you going to fall asleep now.

Especially not after what he told you.

You'd rather die with the rest of them.

Suddenly you heard a small crunching noise and looked down, seeing that you stepped on one of the lenses. 'Shit..it must've broke off during my scuffle with Mini-Catnap...'

You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, and you instead tried grabbing something to stuff beneath the door to stop more smoke from seeping in. No matter what, you HAD to stay awake, you told yourself.

And yet..

That stained worn mattress with the blanket you half-dragged off suddenly looked quite comfortable.

You collapsed onto it, feeling exhaustion overwhelm you immediately despite the rest of your body's attempts to fight it--knowing your fate was ultimately left in his hands should you fail.

But you were so, so tired..

You couldn't help closing your eyes. Just for a little while.

Right before losing consciousness, however, you noticed that the door was now open, and through the red fog appeared Catnap himself.

Except he didn't look like a monster made of skin and bones, instead being a little bipedal purple cat who seemingly jumped straight out of the cartoon show.

His fur wasn't tainted with a single spec of blood or dirt.

He was perfect.

Your perfect creation.

All he did was smile, and you fell asleep smiling back.