#and lean to one side!

[the-barefoot-hatter]

winter holidays at the mystery shack (party billiam edition)

Stan celebrates what he calls "Cash-mas", which is just slapping a cheap felt santa hat and a 300% Christmas special markup on anything- and several things he can't- get away with in the gift shop

more sincerely, the Pines do a fairly low-key Hanukkah. if the twins are visiting, they do a much showier double christmas/hanukkah celebration

And Bill... well...

No one is entirely sure if it's a Euclidean thing or just a... Bill thing. But he's SO enthusiastic!

HAPPY WINTER FUNTIME BOYS & GIRLS!

[mythicalcoolkid]

You don't wish your disability was worse or more visible, you wish your disability was taken seriously. Please stop confusing the two, I guarantee you would not get the support you need JUST by being more severe or more visible. Please listen to visibly disabled people when we tell you it isn't better on our side

[vaguely-concerned]

lucanis is a 'I could sit in our quiet kitchen on a grey tuesday afternoon drinking coffee and talking with you about nothing much in particular forever and be the happiest man who ever lived' romantic, not a 'classic tropes and grand gestures' romantic. this is a distinction and conceptual gap I personally feel is crucial to understanding what's going on with him when romanced. for all his almost painful sincerity and clear depth of feeling he's not a very effusive guy by nature, but in the history of time no one has ever, with their whole soul, chest and being, been so genuinely and openly happy to just do laundry and taxes with you.

[la-muerta]

📢 Announcing the results of the Skipping Stones Competition: 1st place 🏆: Li Lianhua 2nd place🥈: Fang Xiaobao One contender with the surname Di was disqualified Judge: Hulijing

Artist: 呼葱觅蒜 on weibo; reposted with credit as requested.

[somegrumpynerd]

It's cold around the castle this time of year so Horror set a fire in one of the fireplaces, and some people got especially cosy

Cross by Jakei95 Killer by Rahafwabas

Bonus doodle:

[kallypsos]

nadja's and laszlo's matching highlights 4x04 | 5x04 | 5x08

[pasdetrois]

Аленький цветочек / The Scarlet Flower (1978) dir. Marina Ilyichyova

[five-rivers]

Phandom trope- ghost hunger!!

Everyone's been hungry before.

Not necessarily serious, starvation-type hunger. More like, waiting on breakfast in the morning type stuff. Forgetting your lunch at home. Having a late dinner because you forgot to get groceries and had to go to the store. Hunger like that. Hunger that you can work through, smile through, shrug off, delay, that you can forget about, if you're busy enough.

You're that kind of hungry. You've been that kind of hungry since the accident.

You thought it was a teenager thing, at first. People said stuff like that, that teenagers were always hungry, always snacking on things, always trying to get just a little more food, but that wasn’t meant to be taken literally, apparently. It helps that it is mostly constant. That unless it swells or recedes, you can tune it out. Get on with your day.

Your day, which usually consists of fighting multiple ghosts. Your day, which partially consists of being a ghost.

Your parents think ghosts feed on fear. You know Spectra and Bertrand fed on misery. Looking at someone (Sam, Tucker, Jazz, your parents, Mr. Lancer, your classmates, random people on the street) and thinking about exactly what the logistics of that would be makes you lose your appetite, if not your hunger.

There is ice in your heart, but a fire in your stomach, and it burns without stopping.

Sometimes, your parents leave ectoplasm samples in the fridge. You stare at them when you open the door. You imagine the beakers, the test tubes, the tiny sealed jars, clinking against your teeth.

You've gotten ectoplasm in your mouth before, and not just from splashing. You fight so many ghosts with so many different specialties in so many different ways that you can't exactly fight with Marquess of Queensbury rules or whatever. Not when you're the only thing standing between them and everyone in the city being turned into ducks or something equally insane. You kick. You wrestle. You use weaknesses. You bite.

You remember the taste.

You don't know if ectoplasm's the thing you're hungry for, but sometimes, you think about that taste. Sometimes you crave it. Sometimes, during a fight, you have to stop yourself from just biting, and biting, and biting.

But you aren't stupid. An idiot, sure. No one but a fool would have walked into an electrified portal to an afterlife full of monsters in order to impress their friends. But not stupid. Not even your parents know everything that's in those ectoplasm samples, not with certainty. At least, that was your takeaway from the ectopurifier incident and the emergency 'ham' and the ectoweenies and the-- Well, listing all of the different contamination incidents, even just the ones that took place in the fridge itself, would take all day.

You're hungry, but it's the kind of hunger that you can put off, the kind of hunger you can ignore. For now. Forever, maybe. Even when you clean the ectofiltrator and you watch thick, toxic green ectoplasm dripping off the filtration matrix like honey.

You could ask the ghosts, you think. You do wonder, sometimes, what would have happened if you took the Lunch Lady's first offered cookie. You think about the Dairy King and his cheese. You think about the 'wedding feast' Aragon set up when he kidnapped Sam, and you think--

But you've been surviving without all of that, haven't you? Surviving and thriving. It's not like you're starving, just hungry.

(It's Vlad you think of, who you can't imagine dealing well with constant hunger when he hasn't even managed to let go of his gross crush on your mother, who hates him more than she likes him.)

So, you step away from the fridge, the filtrator, the ghosts, and you eat a little bit more than you probably should whenever there's food that doesn't attack you, just to feel the walls of your stomach stretch.

It doesn't matter. You don't know if ghost food is safe for someone like you, someone halfway alive, to eat, anyway. There are stories about that, you're pretty sure. Something Greek.

Then, Vlad clones you, and there's someone else you can ask.

"Are you hungry?"

She looks at you with eyes that are the same as yours down to the tiny darker dot right under the pupil of your left eye. You're sitting at the Nasty Burger, the wrappers of four combo meals strewn around the table (may they rest in peace), so there's no mistaking the question.

"Always," she says, and you both decide to leave it at that.

Then it's the GIW, Sam's 'boyfriend,' Freakshow, Vlad again - and your life has always been crazy, but is it just you, or are humans starting to be more of a threat to you and yours than the ghosts?

It's not a comfortable thought, so in the lull you go exploring. Your friends humor you (they're great, Sam and Tucker, and you know what they'd say, if you told them about how you're hungry all the time, if you said anything about eating emotions, so you don't), probably because they're still guilty about stuff that wasn't their fault. You take advantage. You might be superhuman, but you're still human. You've got limits. You've got selfishness and greed and hypocrisy. It's all there, all the parts that make a person a person and not the graven image of a saint.

But your life is ridiculous, so you crash.

You meet Frostbite. You meet the Far Frozen. You meet a fan club that's about a thousand times more fanatical than the one one at Casper High - and this one doesn't even have people who bully you in it. It's flattering. And maybe a little creepy, sure, but you have a high tolerance for creepy. It comes with the territory.

So, you feed into it, lean into it, give Sam and Tucker silly nicknames and ride around on the shoulders of people who are only too happy to be your personal transport now and forever and sit down at a feast you have no intention of actually eating. None of the three of you do, to be fair. You've discussed your thoughts about eating the food of the dead with them. Instead, you smile and laugh and talk. It's easy.

You're always hungry. One skipped meal is basically nothing.

But the Far Frozen and Frostbite in particular are sharper-eyed than you gave them credit for.

"It won't hurt you, Great One," says Frostbite. When you look up, cocking an eyebrow in question, he continues. "The food. We may not look it, but our research into the medical field is unparalleled. We've even done extensive research into humans and half ghosts, like you!"

You stare at him, not really understanding.

"Eat, Great One."

"Is it really safe?" asks Sam. She's always been faster than you.

"We would be terrible hosts, to give you something that would harm you. It is safe."

You're hungry.

You've been hungry for a long, long time.

(It feels like it's been forever.)

You pick up a forkful of blue vegetables in an ectoplasm-green sauce and maneuver it, mechanically, into your mouth. You chew. You swallow.

And, you think, you want to cry.

[terrimavr]

Guys dare I say parallels

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo, if he leaned more into his love for magic tricks: for my next trick, I’m gonna make myself ~disappear~ *proceeds to get lost in space for five months*

[pocketgnome]

🎵

[st4rstudent]

Winn + Mac fusion idea. lalala.

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance - The World That Never Was

[lineffability]

thinking how Aziraphale's outfits have gotten progressively less-white in reflection of his own morals/character progression and now find myself wondering if there was an instance, way back, when he first started wearing greys and beiges, and Crowley noticed, maybe even commented,

[sparklingdemon]

i know sorrow's quote was in referral to blue but i feel like it could also be applied to leaf/green herself and abandon lonliness: i am's new ending from a meta standpoint if you think abt it hard enough……….

i mean. did we not see OP try to rewrite history in order to prevent the tragedy of lonliness and leaf rotting in hell? do we dare to forget - to erase what she did to lonliness? can she be forgiven now that it never happened in the first place...?

[wolfjackle-creates]

Got some bad news today and I want to forget it. So I'm gonna share a bit of something here as a distraction.

Earlier today I referenced a smut piece I've started working on. Dead on Main. How would you guys like to read the set up for it? (No actual smut in this snippet.)

Enjoy these 800 words!

-----

Danny’s leg was bouncing and the girl sitting in front of him in the lecture hall turned to glare at him. He forced it to stop and pulled out his water bottle, only to realize he was down to his last few drops of ectoplasm.

It wasn’t enough.

He’d thought Gotham would have enough ambient ectoplasm that there’d be a bunch of other ghosts hanging around, even if they were weaker than the ones Amity got. But apparently not. It was already mid October, almost Halloween, and he hadn’t met a single other ghost. He’d even gone looking.

He needed some ghost-on-ghost interactions. Non-liminal humans were fine, necessary to hang out with from time to time even. But not enough for him anymore. His ectoplasm intake had tripled since he moved here to make up for the lack and it wasn’t working.

The girl in front of him turned around again and hissed, “Cut it out.”

Shit, his leg was bouncing again. He stopped it and looked up at the powerpoint the professor was teaching off of. Then back down at his notes. Well damn, he’d missed a few slides.

He ground his teeth and shoved his things into his bag. Clearly sitting here was a waste of time if he couldn’t focus. As quietly as possible, he slipped out of the lecture hall and made his way outside. He was wound too tight. Needing to do something, anything, he loosened his control on his aura, letting it spill out around him

If he’d still been in Amity, everyone would know Danny Fenton was having a bad day. Here, no one spared him a second look. He stalked off campus and through the streets of Gotham, taking turns when needed to match the street lights or avoid getting run over by a car. He had to keep moving.

He didn’t know how long it had been or how far he had traveled when he felt it: the brush of another ghost’s aura against his. Another ghost who was just as angry and frustrated and lonely as him. Danny was moving in their direction—into a park—before he ever consciously made the choice.

The other ghost was moving closer, too. Danny grinned, showing a bit too much teeth. Maybe he’d finally have a chance to let loose, get rid of the frustration he’d been feeling.

And then a man in a leather jacket came running into view. Danny allowed himself a moment of surprise at seeing another apparently-living human who set off his ghost-sense. Could he be a halfa, too? Whoever they were did not seem to be surprised like Danny was, however, and moved faster as soon as they saw each other.

Danny shook off the shock and laughed as he rushed into the fight. He needed this.

Though his aura, Danny sent out his feelings of frustration and isolation and delight at finally meeting another ghost. Then they were trading blows.

He got the same sense of anger and frustration from his opponent, mixed with some confusion. But Danny didn’t bother trying to parse out the guy’s emotions. That could happen later, after they were both finally sated.

His opponent didn’t use any ghost powers, so Danny followed his lead. He dodged a kick and blocked a punch only to return both. He managed to get a grip on the guy’s jacket, but the other did something that twisted his wrist painfully, forcing him to let go.

Danny dropped to the ground and tried to kick at his opponent’s legs. But he only got a glancing blow that barely tripped the man up. Danny jumped up, and managed to head-butt the other’s chin. His opponent growled and kicked out; Danny was sent sprawling. Then, the maybe-halfa had him pinned to the ground.

They both paused for a minute, just breathing. Around them, indistinct voices cried out in panic, but Danny ignored them. He let his hands be pinned above his chest, his legs held down by the other ghost’s knees. Even his aura was pressing down on Danny, holding him in place. Danny could’ve fought back, but something about this felt right.

So, for the first time, he let himself look at his opponent. His ghostly nature was evident in the streak of white hair that fell over his forehead and the ectoplasm-green eyes that stared down at Danny. But what really struck him was how much physically larger he was than Danny. How they appeared to be about the same age.

He was fucking hot, too. Strong as well, if his aura was anything to go by.

Danny licked his lips and let a little lust leak into his own aura. He quirked an eyebrow in question.

-----

Next

This song is the inspiration for the fic and will help set the tone for how things're gonna go. (NSFW lyrics, make sure you listen in an appropriate location or with headphones.)