#hysterical stuff

[isaacathom]

i havent posted about fridays session yet but i need you to understand that a handful of us have been like this for three straight days

[weatherlysexual]

#true love

[letitbehurt]

Interrogation/torture scenes where Whumper is just as gentle as they are cruel.

Their voice is soft even as they slide a serrated knife beneath Whumpee’s skin, methodically drawing out screams. Between rounds, they crouch on their heels as if calming a scared child, tilting their head to peer underneath a sweaty curtain of hair.

They ask guilessly, as blood drips steadily from the knife in their hand, “Should we try this again?”

[neolxzr]

OK so heres some of my favorite things that were talked about during the enter the florpus commentary thing yesterday:

one of jhonen's favorite things in the whole movie is the writing in zim's kitchen that says "do anything is real?"

they clarified specifically that gir was not lying and he did in fact eat a baby at the crazy taco

gir smells REALLY bad. theres like rotting organic matter in his body at all times. he stinks

zim's human suit is made out of actual human skin

zim is acting drunk on nacho cheese during that scene in his house because richard horvitz recorded it while drunk

they planned to have this whole thing with tak's ship only agreeing to go to moo-ping 10 because it knows tak is there. they wouldve shown her in silhouette during that brief explosion and she wouldve stowed away on the ship without anyone knowing and then wouldve shown up towards the end of the movie, but they decided to cut it out

zim did not need to frame membrane for a crime in order to get him into space prison and likely just tossed the guards like 5 bucks for it. its a shady place. they did specify though that if he did frame him for something, it would have been jaywalking

they pointed out during that scene where zim is celebrating peace day on dib's lawn that zim's reaction to seeing dib was very much genuine and that's just how his brain works. he is genuinely surprised to see him pop out of his own house. (they also described his reaction as like "being surprised to see your best friend")

the ham joke was ABSOLUTELY CRITICAL to the film and at some point jhonen remembered it and was like GUYS. WE ALMOST FORGOT THE HAM

there was supposed to be this joke where it cuts to and from gaz and dib in tak's ship and they would've had to stop at like a warp station or something and theyd be waiting in a long queue of spaceships and the radio is broken in the ship so theyre stuck listening to that one song. then itd cut to them like totally braindead drooling from listening to it for so long. and then a little later itd cut back a FINAL time and theyd know all of the words and both be singing along to it. but this was also cut out so only the last bit remained

when asked "who would win: minimoose or mrs. bitters?" the answer was along the lines of "neither, i think all of us lose in that scenario"

the tallest are just two dudes who happen to be the same height and therefore have to share the same job. they are not brothers and they are also not gay lovers ("as much as you want them to be, they are not. there is no love in this universe")

skooge is in fact alive and lives in zim's basement. they wanted to keep the number of "hey remember this thing from the tv show!" moments to a minimum so he was not mentioned in the movie. but he is there

[possibly-not-a-ghost]

Fake Cryptids, Real Ghosts

Ok, so dp x dc/batfam because this AU has me by the throat but what if it's the fake cryptid batfamily AU who never joined the JL.

Just...imagine it. The Batfamily has been protecting Gotham quietly but fiercely by scaring the daylights out of criminals as creatures that go bump in the night. A bit of stage magic, frightening method acting, contortion, a whole language comprised of chirps, growls, and body language, and the best tech possible and you've got a recipe for striking fear into the hearts of everyone.

They've got shrines on the rooftops, vaguely on the JL radar (Cause really, who's gonna believe that Gotham, one of the worst cities has a demon problem? Constantine? Homeboy took one look at Gotham and went Nope.) and they're protected cause any self respecting Gothamite wouldn't go spilling the beans to Outsiders. The Bats keep them safe. Who would believe them anyways?

Enter half dead, half alive Danny Fenton.

Danny Fenton who has a best friend's named Tucker and Sam who find out about the Gotham Cryptids, and go absolutely ham on research because here lies something,a bunch of someone's who are Other. Maybe they're creepy but they're cool and they're Heroes and they help people.

Sure, at first it was an attempt from Sam and Tucker to help their best friend feel less alone in the face of other, more 'normal' heroes and people out there in the world. Maybe they try to further bury the Bats online cause if anyone understands keeping on the down low, it would be Amity Parker's. For awhile, Danny Fenton, sometimes Phantom is simply happy to know he's not alone.

Then he's outed and his sister who's long since been ecto-contaiminated is put at risk there's nowhere that seems safer. Gotham is a chaotic city, even without the Bats factoring in. After all Gotham has (Demons-Spirits-Creatures?) The Bats already. Who would care if a halfa and his sister hide out there? As long as they're respectful of their territory, it'll be fine right? Besides, they've got to warn the Bats anyways about the GIW and government. They're coming after ghosts, who knows if they'll be next? Spooky things have to look out for each other after all.

Cue shenanigans as Phantom who stops hiding all of his creepier traits as a ghost walks up to the Totally Human but Faking it Batman with really thoughtful gifts for all of their shrines (And one fruitcake), no heartbeat and an earnest plea for a safe haven in their Haunt because the Ancients taught him manners and the importance of respecting another entities territory.

[williamvapespeare]

oops i wrote a Payneland first kiss ft. the aftermath of a probably horrible case, Charles being a little bit hysterical, and Edwin being a gentle little bitch Charles is happy to see him. He really, really is. He’s so chuffed it feels like his whole body is fizzing with energy and his head is pounding with something that might be pain or might be relief. And his grip on Edwin’s shoulders is only half meant to keep himself upright. It’s also because Edwin is properly, actually here in front of him, as solid as anything gets beneath Charles’ fingers these days. 

He doesn’t think he’s stopped grinning since Edwin hauled him upright. 

“Edwin,” he says, and can’t quite piece together anything better than, “you bloody genius!” 

And then Charles surges forward and kisses him. He’s aiming for Edwin’s cheek but he’s a little giddy and his eyesight is still a bit blurry and he ends up with his lips pressed to the corner of Edwin’s mouth. 

He feels more than he sees when Edwin startles at the contact, but doesn’t think he has it in him right now to pull back for a talk or a scolding or, god forbid, a lecture on impetuous behaviour. So, he tightens his hands around Edwin’s shoulders and tugs him in a little ways, until their foreheads are pressed together. Edwin blinks a few times and Charles feels his eyelashes flutter against his own cheek. 

“You did it!”. He can hardly believe the words as he speaks them and he keeps kind of laughing in little bursts of uncontrollable giggles. “I thought I was going to - that you were - I can’t even really -” 

Edwin, who has been relaxing against him by careful degrees, finally jolts into action and brings an arm up around Charles’ shoulders. 

“It’s alright,” he says, which Charles thinks is pretty thick for someone as smart as Edwin because of course he’s alright! Edwin just single-handedly swooped in and saved the day and dredged Charles up from the bottom of a literal and metaphorical hole and now he’s got his arm around Charles, close enough that each of his unnecessary breaths stirs the curls around Charles’ ear. He’s a lot fucking more than alright. 

Edwin’s hand starts to rub little circles between his shoulder blades. It feels nice.

“Mate,” he tries again. “You are…” but he doesn’t quite know what Edwin is other than the most important person in the world and, anyway, he can’t finish the sentence because Edwin cuts him off in a tone that Charles still thinks is far too serious for the situation. 

“Charles, you seem a touch, well.” A slight pause. “For lack of a better word, hysterical.” 

Is he hysterical? Charles doesn’t think so, but then again he’s never been great at thinking things through properly at the best of times. 

“Also, I must ask.” Charles’s eyes are only centimeters away from Edwin’s, and he watches Edwin squeeze his close. Eyelashes flutter together. “Did you mean to kiss me?”  

Charles blinks once.

“Uh,” he says. “Yeah, mate.” 

The hand on his back tightens, fingers gripping the fabric of his polo and that feels pretty good too, like Edwin is clinging to him with all the same desperation swirling up inside Charles. Like maybe he’s something solid even when he feels as insubstantial as ghosts can get. 

“Well,” Edwin says, finally, with a posh little sniff like he’s right fucking pleased with himself. “That is good to know.” 

Charles collapses against him, eventually, when he finally starts breathing steadier and the heavy weight of exhaustion settles over his shoulders. When the giddy adrenaline leaves him feeling a little more cracked open than he’d like. Edwin just gathers him close with the same possessive gesture as his hand. 

There’s a soft brush of lips against his temple. He smiles into the collar of Edwin’s coat and lets himself drift, warm and soft and held together

[urproblematicfav-arsonk]

Consider Husk finally spending the night and in the morning when Angel tries to wake him, Husk is doing that limp, floppy body, double eyelid thing cats do when they're sleeping really good and Angel reacts the way those tiktok cat owners do, which is to assume Husk just fucking died

[lemonisntreal]

BLINKY BLINKY BLINKY BLINKY BLINKY BLINKY BLINKY BLI

[boypussydilf]

a second sam & max favorite moments and quotes compilation of all the stuff i forgot to include the first time

[july-19th-club]

back to becoming ii the level of incredulousness in that “what, your mum doesn’t know?’ is because like the second thing he did after getting turned into a vampire was drag his sire/new girlfriend along back to his house and barge in going MUM HOLY FUCK. if he was a vampire slayer he would’ve been exactly the same he wouldve dusted some guy and then immediately MOTHER!!! i can Kill 

[dreagine]

Aroace ink sans I love you…………….

[officialbabayaga]

before a single new panicked post is made that makes it obvious the op is under the impression that the us presidential election is a popularity contest i would like everyone to sit down and contend with the fact that someone in wisconsin has five times the voting power of someone in california.

genuinely it’s pointless to get mad at someone who lives in a state that’s been blue by a landslide for decades because they won’t vote for biden. at the presidential level not everyone’s votes count. i’m begging you guys to read up on how the electoral college works before you start attacking individuals because you assume every american has the same level of influence during elections. go harass someone in one of the dakotas.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

---------

for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

-------

Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[marcygoo]

RA RA REBECCA 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 umm i got bored. idk

[arsbones-kw]

I CAN'T-

[namjinier]

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⠀ ⠀hysteric angels ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁𓂃