#Button of Doom

[thatfilthyanimal]

"Megamind as an influencer sounds terrible"

In the prequel comic #Megamind projects himself live during a kidnapping where he sits Roxanne down in front of a TV to play VHS recordings of previous battles with Metro Man (and of course, her) so everyone can see how great he is

Like literally the entire prequel comic is just Megamind peacocking around Roxanne to show off to her with old recorded footage of himself while the city watches. ANYWAY. Like y'all, the movie literally introduces Megamind's current-day dynamic with Metro Man with him projecting his bigass head in front of everyone in the city. And then he does it AGAIN to Metro Man directly because heaven forbid anyone isn't looking at what he's doing

Megamind's entire existence is running around being flashy and loud and out there like this, genuinely HOW is this a shock to people,

Also he's still like this in Button of Doom, the short that came out in 2011, because I know some of y'all weren't paying attention. Btw: the short focuses on Megamind realizing that he doesn't have to be like Metro Man to be a hero himself so like, expect that theme to continue.

Anyway looking forward to more Megamind stuff in 2024 because I'm not fucking boring and I understand Megamind is supposed to be a big loveable dork and a huge attention whore. ✨

[megamindfandombookclub]

Button of Doom

[misterspectacular]

Not only is Megamind currently on Netflix, but so is Button of Doom under "DreamWorks Spooky Stories Volume 2"!

And, this joke is hilarious.

[skitskatdacat63]

Why is he like this, why is he such a freak, who gave him the right to act like this

[3liza]

i mean the truth is that we do not need and should not have all this stupid plastic clutter in or houses. no one should be producing or selling this shit. everyone make your own merchandise and charge a living hourly wage to sell it 🤷 sorry to be so simplistic about this but it's one of the results of the lack of class unity specifically in the means of production-owning creative class, who is not mentioned or dealt with by the core Marxist texts as far as I know (i asked about this earlier on here, did marx ever address in his analysis people like, for example, a professional photographer who owns a camera ans prints his own dagguereotypes? or a portrait painter or idk, independent milliner or seamstress? these people all own the means of production and do not employ anyone, and the answer from better educated people than I was that no, Marx didn't mention them), I'm not well read on this at all, there is just a big void where leftist analysis of what modern economists call "the creative class"

I'm getting off topic. my point is make your own keychains in your kitchen. it's actually not hard. you can even mass produce (on a small scale) little plastic crap if you want, with resin and a UV lamp, or a 3d printer, or a laser cutter and acrylic sheets (or just use balsa wood damn, at least its biodegradable and less tacky).

all this stuff is available to little creators AND there are hundreds of people who already own these machines who will take work for you and produce your designs. you just have to actually find them and know them and email them. that's what I mean about the class unity issue with creatives. we have no large scale union, we have no large scale class consciousness, and we're all sending our orders for little plastic crap to sweatshops instead of emailing a guy with a laser cutter in his garage and saying "hey Keith can I get uhhhhhhhhhhh 50 laser cut keychains of this twerking Diggler design I made, like how much would that cost" and he's like sure here's the work and materials cost and tbh it's always always less than i think it's going to be. you just have to do some basic arithmetic and then order shipping, and I hate order fulfillment with my life but you can actually pay or barter with someone to do that for you too. learn to delegate and then factor that into your unit cost. this is basic shit every commercial creator needs to know. they should teach you this in art school but they dont

don't give me crap about "I can't afford a laser cutter" either because I just told you to email Keith. and all these machines get sold secondhand when a manufacturer or hobbyist needs to upgrade. i got a color laser printer perfect for making zines and wheatpastes and shipping labels from a retired lesbian on capital hill for $75 and it was still full of ink. my friend gave me her 20 year old canon dslr because she just didn't need it and didn't want to bother selling it. it works fine because I spent the time finding the right drivers and shit for my computer. and card readers exist. Craigslist. Facebook marketplace. nextdoor sales section. eBay. everyone always forgets eBay. eBay lets you save searches and will email you when it finds a guy selling his vinyl plotter in your city with local pickup. I'm serious

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[britishbiscuits]

I had a vision

Might as well scrap the rest of the comic

[metalichotchoco]

She’s just a rag dolly, happy and smiling all day 🖤

These two are so sweet it makes my teeth rot but they are so doomed. It’s perfect

[dragons-are-epic]

Average Skip Haverty Audio:

Eight: Skip will follow me no matter where I go, no matter the risk. She will do it for as long as she lives.

Skip, in a different room: I will follow the Doctor no matter where he goes, no matter the risk. I will do it for as long as I live. *beat* What if there's something inherently wrong with me?

*violent torture scene as Eight whimpers and whines*

Side Character One: Isn't It Terrifying How My Very Existence Blurs The Line Between Life And Death?

Side Character Two: *political joke that will not age well*

Side Character Three, a woman: *flirts with Skip*

Alternate version of Skip Haverty from another universe: Hi. I'm an alternate version of Skip Haverty from another universe.

Eight: *is interrupted just as he's about to put on a skirt/dress and do some Wilderness Era genderfuckery*

Skip: I don't think I've ever been a woman. I've barely even ever been a person. I wish there was some way to separate myself from all these notions of femaleness and maleness. Why can't I just be someone apart from them? Why can't I just be me?

The Fuckwizard: *returns*

*shockingly brutal death scene*

Eight: *the most raw and gripping speech you will ever hear made in your life*

Skip: Time to get back in the TARDIS! I am sure nothing bad will ever happen to me.

[heckyeahponyscans]

G1 My Little Pony comic #31 (1986) - The Haunted Hill

[renoloid372]

i love you giant robot

[vultursvolans]

growing up is accepting i cry at just about anything and that’s ok

like i cried (so badly) watching wicked, i cry at people’s weddings even if i don’t know the bride and groom, i cry at people’s love stories (my friend was telling me about how her friend met her husband. and i teared up. idek them LOL), i can cry when i listen to classical music, i cried when rukkhadevata erased herself, i cried once when i was drunk because the ice cream i was eating was really yummy sighhh

[tmae3114]

ARACHNALCHEMY IS ACTUALLY COMING SOON???

[ell-if-i-know]

ME WHEN "Oh, look at these two. How they wish to destroy one another. How they wish to control one another.

How they both wish to be free.

Can you see? Can you see how much they need one another? No, perhaps not. Sometimes these things cannot be seen."

AND

"When every path you can walk has been created for you long in advance, death becomes meaningless, making life the same. Do you see now? Do you see that Stanley was already dead from the moment he hit start?"

AND ALSO

"Because maybe, Stanley, maybe - if you can hear me, then maybe it means I'm real. Maybe I'm not just a fiction. Was I scared of that all along? Perhaps, yes. Perhaps I've been scared this whole time that if I stop speaking, I'll slip backwards into the silence and be consumed by it. I can't be taken by it, Stanley. I can't lose myself in the stretch of emptiness between you and me.

When you press that button, you're still right there, but I know you're so tremendously far away. And in those moments, the emptiness folds itself outward in between the two of us, and I am suspended in its unyielding quietness. I can feel the edges of my reality curdling inward and decaying. I can tell that I am becoming less and less real.

Yet to speak to you now, I am alive! I am truly and completely here! I am a being, I am someone, I am something! I am being listened to, I am being recognized! The emptiness between us has collapsed, and I feel, right now, like I am not a work of fiction! I feel as though I occupy space in this world again, and I have cast a shadow onto the wall."

[odo-apologist]

Do you lay on your bed staring at the ceiling while listening to The Beatles' "For No One" and think about Humphrey and Sophie, Fanny and George, Pat and Carol, and Julian and Margot driving yourself to the brink of insanity or are you normal

[pinazee]

I think we all collectively decided that the lords in black are to do with the time loop, but i personally like to believe theres a person in the basement of CCRP just like: