#there are more on my friends phone

[kryptods]

some photos i got of The Front Bottoms and eliza & the delusionals when i saw then!!

[skellydun]

Actual Phone Conversation I Had With A Girl Absolutely Going Through It This Morning:

me very quickly: hi this is dylan from x. how are you today? is now a good time to talk?

girl on the phone: what? oh you know! it's just work, work, work.

me: haha yeah! Just another busy Monday :)

girl on the phone i have known for exactly 11 seconds: sometimes i wish it would just stop. it's relentless. and it's every week! how many mondays can someone go through?

me trying to do my job: ha ha i know right? so I'm calling--

girl on the phone i have known for exactly 16 seconds: i'm so tired. i'm soooooo tired. shelby kept me up all night again. she will not get over keegan. they keep calling each other just to yell i swear to god.

me: only 4 days till the weekend and some sleep! :D

girl: yeah. but she's sleeping with me. at my house. didn't he tell you? who is going to get the dog? or the fucking 300 dollar blender I got them?

me: unfortunately no! so i would love to know more but the reason i'm calling is to get you scheduled for x job interview are you still interested?

girl whispering: what?

me awkwardly: it's...i'm dylan. from x. the x job you applied for. we would like to interview you for it.

girl: oh my god. no. oh my - I am so sorry. I thought you were my friend--I cannot believe--I told you work was relentless. I don't really mean that! I talked about blenders!

me: no, no I totally get it. It can be. But that's why you're interviewing for somewhere better! Tell Shelby to apply too! Do you have any availability on Thursday?

[ive-been-timebombed]

PART TWO

Jason’s tired. Dicks drugged. Danny talking bout hotdogs. Everyone’s confused

What in the floppy flippy fish sticks. Or was it Flippy Floppy fish sticks? I don’t know been to long since me and Wally got together and cursed at each other. Curse is a strong word.. it was more like tell each other the stupidest things that come to mind instead of cussing.

Back on track Jason was staring at the sparkly king dude. And sparkly king dude is staring back. Oh Batman I’m getting a cramp. Really hope Little Wing thinks of something. Im all out of ideas that aren’t dislocate my bones. And blue boy already thought of that and tied me up a bit more special.

Man. I hate bondage. My Dick hurts! And I’m Dick! So everything hurts!

_________________

Holy ancients, that’s my child. That’s baby JayJay. And he has a core. A dying core. I did that. I left him to stave..

“My king? Is something wrong?” Okay I’m grateful to you for bringing me here but shut up space man. Danny looked down to the summoner and with a flick of his wrist the man tumbled to the ground like a bag of bricks.

Danny floated up and flew to the edge of the summoning circle looking down to see what shields the summoner had put.. only there weren’t any and Danny concludes that they were a complete baboon.

Danny walked out the circle and to his child. His ectoplasm was rancid, old and stale. From his core trying to absorb ectoplasm without the ability to clean it.

Danny bent down in front of Jay, “Hello, Ghostling” Danny said in fake confidence.

________________

Jason was not panicking he would like to point that out. He was merely trying not to yell. Or scramble back away from the being. Who was just crouching down in front of him. The being put its hand on his shoulder. It was cold yet warm at the same time. Like how one would feel after getting out a cold refreshing pool into the warm air.

“Hello, Ghostling” The being spoke to him, it was comforting and softer then how he spoke to Wickham.

..

Ghostling? The fuck was a Ghostling? Why did he have to be a ling? He’d much rather be just a ghost. Not ghostLING. That makes him sound like a child. Which he was a few years older than that.

Then Jason’s body felt cold and lightless then the ropes on his arms were off and his arms are free. Jason immediately scrambled back bragging his older brother in the process not taking his eyes of the floating man as he untied the vigilante.

“Ow- cramp,” Dickhead groaned as rolled to the floor holding onto his foot. With his now free hands. “I hate being tied up, Little Wing- holy smokes you’re not human.” Dick had fixed his mask as it was slipped down from sweat earlier blinding him. His eyes focused on the being that had floated back looking between the two vigilantes.

“No I am not, mostly at least.” The being shrugged looking at the two with a sly smile like he knew something the other two did not.

“Mostly.?” Dick repeated in a mumble sitting up

“What the fuck are you? Why do you quiet the pits?” Jason spoke as he stood up dragging Nightwing up with him.

“The pits? What are the pits.?” The being spoke with a tilt of its head.

____________

What are the pits? Should Danny comfort him? Oh it was so much easier when the kid barely had the ability to think. He missed the baby Jay. Now it’s big Jay. He certainly took after his grandpa. Guess it skips a generation..

“The pits? What are the pits.?” Danny asked his kid tilting his head in confusion. The pits.. pits? Armpits? No doubt it’s that. Mud pits? Danny gave up on trying to guess whatever a pit was. He was more concerned at the stale ectoplasm in his son. Could he even call him that anymore.?

“The Lazarus Pits! The bright green liquid that was used to summon you!” Jay grew angry? He doesn’t feel that angry.. his core is panicking? Does this Lazarus Pits force emotions? Or amplify it?

“You mean ectoplasm?” Danny asked glancing over at the other vigilante other than his son. He didn’t have a core, so he was still alive and mortal. He did however look atrociously high. Or drugged.

“What- you mean that shit from ghostbusters?” Jay seemed to relax? Maybe Danny’s clean ectoplasm is filtering into his system.

“If I had a hotdog for every time I heard that sentence. I’d have enough to start a war with the vegetables.” Danny floated up into a sitting position crossing his ankles.

__________________

Man, I miss Wally. He’d pay attention to me.. but no. I’m here listening to sparkly king dude and my Little Wing talk about something I could barely make out. Hotdogs? I’m hungry.

“Hotdogs..? Ain’t the saying dollar? War- what are you talking about-“ Little Wing said from beside me. King sparkles was looking at me. King sparkles kinda reminds him of little Jay.

“I think your friend is drugged.. looks like a second away from passing out.” King sparkles gestured to me, then Jason looked at me.

I’m gonna throw up.. Is that bad?

[xoxoemynn]

There's room in my blanket fort for anybody who wants to curl up in a ball and die. The door's the blue cushion. 💔

[decarbry]

[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

[plateboundary]

[axel-tiredstudent]

Sneak peak! 1 of the 10 characters I've done (so far)

[3dogbones]

HEY @freshlyepic remember that one time you “ur mom” joked me before bed? Welllllll….

I’M GETTING REVENGE!!!

I don’t even ship this but I’m making it since I’m ON MY VILLAIN ARC RAAAHHHHHHH

HOW DOES IT FEEL TO GET ABSOLUTELY TROLLED, SHLYEP??? MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! 😈😈😈🔥🔥🔥

[turtleblogatlast]

Don’t think I ever quite said what my LGBTQ+ headcanons are for the boys, so these are my current thoughts! Always changing of course but this is what I feel most strongly right now.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

May I offer you a hastily drawn picture to wish you a good get-through-the-week? :3

HELLO ??????? HELLO hot gluing this to my eyes IMMEDIATELY thank you so much i feel myself becoming stronger already

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (a dreamling drabble)

(a 1989 comics AU where Dream does not go meet Hob despite being free)

Dream stares at the sleeping form of Hob Gadling and feels guilty.

He hadn’t gone to their centennial meeting. Despite having escaped Burgess’ cage and having recovered his tools, Dream has not met Hob at their appointed date at the White Horse.

He knows Hob waited for him. Waited until the day had gone and turned to night, after the clock had struck midnight and announced their date over. Dream knows this because he had stood, watching, for as long as the man waited inside the White Horse Inn.

He is not proud of this.

If he examines his reasons for not entering the Inn, keeping watch from the other side of the street instead, he draws a blank. 

Dream does not know why he did not go inside, he knows he froze at the sight of the closed door, the cramped space indoors he could see through the glass (glass, why so much glass everywhere). He had stepped back and waited for his unease to lift, and when that did not happen he had waited for Hob to leave so Dream might meet him outside, but the man did not leave the Inn until the owner practically threw him out on the street, long after midnight. Dream had stepped forward then, only to watch his old acquaintance break down against the building wall and sob. 

Why did Dream not go to him then? Why did he step back into the shadows and watch Hob drag himself up to his feet with a whimper and stumble down the street, hand trailing the wall for support. The only answer Dream can come up with is a supremely uncomfortable one.

He is a coward.

When it comes to relationships, Dream’s track record is disastrous, a fact that he is very aware of. He left Hob in 1889 with cutting words and no promise to return. Hob should by rights be angry at Dream, should be less trusting that he would show. But still the man waited for him at their next appointment, as if he had known Dream’s words to be products of his rage and not vows he would keep. Even if he doesn’t know it, Hob was right to expect Dream to not simply terminate their arrangement. Because here Dream stands, at the foot of Hob’s bed, watching the man sleep, too scared of a smug ‘I-knew-you’d-see-sense’ to dare approach him while awake.

Hob had slowly made his way home, unaware of Dream following him, drawn to him like there was a string tying them to each other. By then Dream felt like the point where he could make himself known had passed, but he hadn’t been able to leave. He kept trailing after Hob, into his small two-room apartment; had watched him shed only his shoes and then stood in the shadows of his curtains while Hob took out a small leather-bound book and pen and started to write. Dream had felt like a ghost, a nightmare watcher haunting his victim. He had carefully reigned in any stray trickles of his power to not make himself known or Hob uncomfortable in his invisible presence. After a few minutes Hob had stopped writing and sighed. Then he wiped his hands over his face tiredly and went to bed, not bothering to get out of his clothes.

Dream stands beside the table with the book now. The pages are still open. His eyes seek out the words unbidden, unable to resist the pull of the written word. He knows he is breaking a lot of taboos this evening. He is invading his friend’s privacy most thoroughly. The knowledge does not stop him from reading what Hob has written.

June 7th 8th, 1989

He didn’t come. The bastard really didn’t come. I can’t believe it. I was so sure he would show. That he was just angry, prideful and stubborn as he is, but surely a hundred years would be long enough to calm down?

Apparently they weren’t. I sat there, at our table at the White Horse, drinking one whiskey after the other, waiting like an idiot until they threw me out, and he didn’t show.

Do you even remember me? Or did you cut me from your memory, like you promised to cut all our ties, the night you left me standing in the rain? Have I left any impact at all on your immortal life that is probably much longer than my own? Surely it must be obvious to you that you have impacted my life more than anyone else. You are the only one who knows me, who knows Hob Gadling, the rough, foolish mercenary who bragged about never dying. Who raised himself from the dirt of the poor just to fall back down again, deeper than ever before. Rise and fall, and rise again only to be put in my place by you again - and rightfully so. 

In 1889 I had finally managed to find some middle ground, feeling safe enough to finally be honest with you - at least partially. And it all blew up in my face.

I should have known, really. Your relaxed smiles for the last centuries were too good to be true. I shouldn’t have trusted my gut and spilled some of the beans. But it had been lonely the last few decades and I thought we had reached an understanding. I thought I knew you, if not as well as you have to know me by now, but enough to take that leap of faith.

I leapt. And you let me fall I fell again. I should be used to it by now, one might think. But when it’s you nothing is simple and the stakes are so much higher.Do you know what you mean to me? Your name is written on a wall inside my heart and I don’t think that any amount of alcohol can wash it away. And I don’t even know it. I don’t know your name but it’s in there, and it’s not coming off. I know. I tried. Although it hurts that you stood me up, I believe that you’ll come back to meet me one day. I will believe in you, no matter what. I have to, for there is no other constant in my life but you. I have to hope.

‘You’re the only one who really knew me at all, and you coming back to me is against all odds, but it’s a chance I’ve got to take’, like Phil says.

Dream does not know who Phil is, but a quick glance at the general human subconscious reveals the quoted words as part of a song by an artist Hob seems to be referring to. Dream perceives the song’s lyrics and its general feeling and swallows heavily. It appears to be an apt choice for Hob’s current emotional state. He reads the last few words while the notes of the song linger in his mind.

So I’ll be here when you’re ready. I hope you know how to find me when they inevitably tear the old place down, but I guess you do. I hope so. I really hope so. I just want to know that you’re okay. I need to know that I’m not alone. There are others like me, I’ve met some. But it’s not the same. No one is like you. No one is as

Please come back

The words cut off abruptly, Hob having clearly been too tired to write more. Dream’s newly reclaimed powers put everything in much sharper relief. Shutting off the flow of emotions from the subconscious comes both easier and harder somehow. Pulling himself back into this singular humanoid shape at Hob’s bedside takes a particular effort he had forgotten since he furnished his ruby. It is not hard, but a task he has to accustom himself to again. Dream pauses for several minutes, quite literally collecting himself, unsure of his next actions.

He looks at Hob again. His face is slack in his sleep, relaxed and calm. Dream only glances at Hob’s dreams to ascertain if they are calm or troubled but finds nothing too upsetting. He does not want to intrude further than he already has so he keeps himself from viewing his friend’s dreams. 

His friend. Friend. The word that had sent Dream running in affront a century ago. Despite himself, struck by a sudden urge to talk to Hob, Dream inhales sharply and silently sits down on the chair in front of the open notebook. He carefully picks up the pen and sets it to the empty paper below Hob’s own words.

My friend.

I apologise for missing our meeting 

I owe you more than one apology. You were correct in your assessment the last time we met. I was am lonely. With one word you dismantled my defences and left me too vulnerable to bear at the time. I was rude to you, and I regretted my words as soon as I had left you. However, as you well know, I am a prideful, stubborn being. Strange, to be able to admit it so easily now. I’ve always known it, and you’re not the first to call me out on it, but of course I would never have allowed anyone who talked to me like that to speak to me again. So I told you I’d leave you, not able to accept that you were, ARE, my friend.

And that I need you, like you need me

I have not forgotten you, Hob Gadling. I do not forget anyone. You are cradled in the vastness of my being like every other mind, your story preserved for all time. This, of course, you cannot know, as I have never introduced myself to you. Again, something I’d like to apologise for. I will, however, endeavour to give you my name in person, and soon.

I would have done so today yesterday, but. For some reason I cannot name I felt unable to approach you or enter our usual meeting place. I know you waited and I am deeply sorry for troubling you.

You have indeed made an impact on my life. Maybe not in the same way I did on yours, but nonetheless our meetings have become something I look forward to. You surely wonder why I never told you who I am. I was not able to admit it a hundred years ago, but to meet you, who knows nothing of my role and my duties, is freeing in a way nothing else is in my existence. You look upon me as your friend, and nothing else. You cannot imagine how much I enjoy the time spent in your presence, listening to your accounts of the last century.

I could not

I was unable to experience much of human history over the last century. This has left me with a certain uneasiness in regards to humanity. I would humbly ask for your patience, once again. As I am trying to gather the courage find the time to gather the courage to meet you in person. Perhaps this book can provide a form of communication, for the time being.

Sincerely, your old friend

Dream drops the pen like it’s burning his fingers and rises swiftly, stepping back from the table and notebook before he can rip out the page he has written in a fit of panic. He has revealed far more than he intended to but it is only fair to leave Hob these words, after what he has put him through.

Dream allows himself one last look at Hob, still sleeping peacefully, before returning back to the Dreaming. There is much to think about. His reluctance to interact with humanity cannot stand if he is to perform his function. Walking with Death has helped him put things in perspective again but he still fears. What? What does he have to fear? He has no need for humans liking him. As he examines his feelings and his earlier short interactions with humans on his way to the White Horse, Dream realises that he does not care about all humans. He only cares about how Hob perceives him. 

Perhaps knowing that he had to introduce himself this time, clearly owing it to his friend, Dream had been afraid of losing Hob’s easy camaraderie. Surely exposing himself as Endless will have a pruning effect on Hob’s relaxed and friendly demeanour. Dream does not want that. But perhaps… No. He will wait for Hob’s reply in his notebook, if it comes. Should he choose to answer Dream, he will then decide how to proceed further. Surely any speculation right now is fruitless.

Trying to put the matter out of his mind for now, Dream goes to resume his work. He is aware enough to know that fear of Hob’s reaction was not the only reason he didn’t enter the White Horse. He needs to work through some things. Perhaps some new nightmares made of planes of suffocating glass will help him put some things behind him.

[Spoiler: of course they won’t, oh honey 🥺]

Part 2

[crunchchute]

Sam and Max if they were cool /j

[microtyalm13]

everything about Gavriil feels suffocating.

how his presence alone can be almost overwhelming, how his massive body cages you everytime without a chance to escape. you wouldn't dare to try anyway, knowing that you don't even have a say against a creature of his caliber. he will find you. in your dreams, in your nightmares. in your room.

how he will be intense and vague about everything just for the sake of it; to confuse you further, to see the conflict of emotions in your eyes merge with arousal. eventually your hesitance turns into acceptance, a desperate need to feel his hands all over you. and he will be oh so grateful to fulfill that desire.

how his thick tongue pushes past your lips and into your mouth, reaching almost the back of your throat, relishing in the muffled little sounds you make. your drool mixed with his saliva drips down your chin, and your hazy eyes look up at him when he finally pulls away, giving you a second to breathe.

how his hips are slamming into you relentlessly, your wetness and lack of resistance allowing him to move almost effortlessly. forced to hold onto him for dear life instead of pushing away. all of your morals and principles are being tossed out of the window every single time he comes to you. he has you where he wants you, and will not stop until he feels like you can't take it anymore.

and how in the morning he vanishes away, leaving you guessing: was it just another wet dream? but the cold stickiness between your legs tells you more than you need to know.

[ridstler]

BWAM!