Adding To This Idea:

adding to this idea:

Dark Pinky and Snowball get all citrus scale and Dark Pinky insists on doing the horizontal do-si-do to the Hamsterdance.

Brotherly Love: The Musical (Part five of seven)

Behold, teen!me's definition of "zany, happy, wacky."

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

DEAD GOODFEATHERS DO NOT LICK

Content Warning: Consensual romantic relationship between two siblings; mpreg; aged-up characters; questionable knowledge of psychology; usage of mid-noughties slang that aged like milk (which Yakko will not be drinking); very off-color jokes; oh dear gods an author avatar and her avatar’s furry friend; attempts at song parodies; author’s notes to give track listings; attempt at writing Scratchansniff’s accent out phonetically; big emotions, including: *extremely Gonzo voice* GUILT and *extremely Septa Unella voice* SHAME SHAME SHAME (ding ding); animane-y, totally insane-y, Dot is slut-shame-y

-O-o-O-o-O-

Yakko lay in bed after their appointment with Scratchy.

Sleep wouldn’t come easily to him now that he’d gotten washed up and dressed already. However, if Wakko was up to it, he could easily take care of the later….

“Stop it, Yakko,” he told himself. “Your brother is in the bathroom, puking his guts out and all you can think about is sex.”

He would go in the bathroom and comfort Wakko—except Wakko had told him not to come in the bathroom yet. What he could be doing in there was beyond Yakko, but Yakko wasn’t about to disrespect Wakko’s privacy.

Plus, the sight of Wakko throwing up was not exactly something one would want to see less than two hours after breakfast.

So Yakko lay in his bunk, staring at the bottom of Dot’s empty bunk. “I wonder how a picture of Wakko would look taped there.”

In the bathroom, Wakko was staring at a little plastic stick with a pink screen.

“Well this ain’t faboo, is it?” he thought, tossing the box into the trash. “Dot’s not going to like this.”

He looked out the door, down the hall towards the bedroom. “I don’t even know if I should tell Yakko.”

Wakko stuck his head back in the door. “That’s stupid. Of course I should tell him. It’s his. Unless something happened that one night I sleepwalked. I never did remember why I ended up naked in Plotz’s office. Definitely nothing happened, though, since he wasn’t very happy to see me there.”

In the bedroom, Yakko chastised himself once again after he was able to find similarities between the way Wakko moved when climaxing and when vomiting.

“That’s absolutely disgusting! Why can’t I just be a normal pervert and stare at people naked in the shower?”

He sighed when he gazed up at the newly taped picture of Wakko on the bottom of Dot’s bunk.

“There’s no point in fighting it,” he thought, tracing the outline of Wakko’s face with his finger. “If loving you is wrong, then being right is sorely overrated.”

Yakko sat up. “That incredibly clichéd line sounds like a lead-in for a song.”

A dark room slowly came into view as the music from the synthesizer filled the air. A single spotlight shone on a mirrored cross in the middle of the room.

As the music played into the first verse, the cross rotated to reveal Yakko, duct taped to the front, as he began to sing. (Author's Note: to the tune of "Live to Tell" by Madonna)

“I have a tale to tell.”

He suddenly glanced at his arm and saw a hickey from two nights ago.

“Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well.” He smiled sheepishly.

“I was not ready for the fall.”

The duct tape gave out and Yakko fell off the cross and landed on his face. He got up, brushed himself off and continued singing.

“Why couldn’t I just get a blow-up doll?”

A blow-up doll of Bugs Bunny fell at Yakko’s feet. He sighed and popped it. It flew around the room, landing draped over the cross.

“I don’t care if it is unwise Or if I go to hell; Hope I live to tell if things will turn out right, Because….the suspense is killing me!”

Yakko dramatically did a fainting gesture in front of the cross. A few yards away, Wakko sat on a toilet in the middle of the room, illuminated by a second spotlight. He spun the little plastic stick on a gloved finger as he sang:

“The test was positive. Don’t need Maury, I know who the dad is.”

Wakko put another finger on top of the stick to stop its spinning. The stick stopped, pointing to Yakko, who was still in the dramatic “fainted” pose. Wakko continued to sing:

“The light that Dot will never see, It shines in him, in fact, it’s blinding me.”

The spotlight shone directly on the mirrored cross, casting the glare directly into Wakko’s eyes. He continued singing while groping around, blinded.

“We couldn’t hide from Dot’s sharp eyes So I’ll just say ‘Oh well.’ Hope I live to tell if things will turn out right Because….This light is burning me!”

Wakko ran around on fire until he remembered to stop, drop, and roll. Once extinguished, he rolled over on top of Yakko, who woke up from his pose to sing:

“The plot, it seems so far behind. This story’s gone to hell. Could somebody tell me if the plot will bend Because….this song should really end.”

The spotlight turned off as Yakko finished singing.

“Did the studio forget to pay the light bill again?”

-O-o-O-

Yakko and Wakko were sitting on Yakko’s bunk, staring at the oh-so-unfaboo plastic stick.

“So….yeah,” was all Yakko could say.

“Yeah.” Wakko responded.

Yakko scratched his head. “How did this happen, anyway?”

“Well, when two people love each other—”

“Not that way,” Yakko said. “I mean, how did you get pregnant if you’re a boy?”

“You know how there’s cartoon physics?”

“Yeah?”

“It was cartoon biology.”

“Oh.” Yakko wondered where the heck he was when Wakko learned this. More importantly, where did he get the pregnancy test from?

“Where’d you find that thing, anyway?”

“It came out of my gag bag.”

The brothers continued to stare at the stick.

“Shouldn’t we do something other than just staring at this stick?” Yakko said.

“Like what?” Wakko asked.

“Like, telling Dot?”

“She’s not going to like it.”

“Well, she doesn’t like going to the dentist and we make her do that anyway. She’ll find out about it sooner or later, it might as well be sooner.”

“What if she decides to stay away from us? Or run even farther away?” Wakko asked fearfully.

“I doubt she’d do that. We’re her brothers. We’ve never been apart for longer than a week; we practically need each other. And besides,” Yakko continued, “even if she does leave, we’ll still have each other.”

“That’s sweet. Unbelievably clichéd, but sweet.”

“I think it’s time for another song.”

A whimsical tune set to the beat of a waltz played on a synthesizer. Around the brothers, the scene changed from the bedroom to a meadow of bright green grass and day-glo flowers. The sky shone a technicolor blue.

In the middle of the field, there was a brightly-colored structure that looked like a carousel, but was really a funhouse.

Yakko now wore an electric blue tunic with his khaki slacks. A laser necklace sat on his head like a halo, and glow sticks dangled from his shirt and pants. Wakko still wore his red cap, but instead of his blue sweatshirt, he wore a day-glo violet tunic. (Author's Note: to the tune of "Witch in the Ditch" by Erasure)

Yakko began skipping backwards in the direction of the funhouse as he sang:

“No, I could never Give up on the fight Just because Dot is being a hater. We’re looking and searching For a place we can love in Why am I dressed like a raver?”

Yakko shrugged it off, then knelt down in front of Wakko, continuing:

“But it was you, bruder, that turned my world around. Yes, it was you, mein lieb, with whom I have laid down.”

The music reached its crescendo as Yakko jumped up and began to dance wildly around singing:

“Rules were meant to be forgotten, Broken and laid down to die. Man, that line sounded so trite. Oh, to you I will be faithful, Cross my heart and hope to die. What’s up with the neon lights?”

Yakko and Wakko were now standing in the funhouse. Neon signs lit the dark area, along with lava lamps, strobe lights, and glow sticks. They looked around at the display that was sure to blind someone, then shrugged as Wakko began singing:

“We dropped our britches Then Dot had to ditch us For Hello Nurse, what a surprise. But I love you still For your wit and your will And not just for your great ‘shoe’ size.”

Yakko blushed with a humongous cheesy grin on his face as Wakko pressed himself against him and sang:

“Yes, it is you, mein herr, that makes me less unsound.”

Both Yakko and Wakko sang as they danced around a strobe-light maypole:

“Rules were meant to be forgotten. The author has got to be high. Let’s frolic through the strobe lights. Who cares if we aren’t ravers? Let’s not even wonder why What’s up with all the strobe lights?”

Wakko pulled Yakko closer and sang:

“Wanna go at it tonight?”

Yakko nodded vigorously. All the lights shut off.

-O-o-O-

The next morning, Yakko and Wakko lay in each other’s arms, blissful from the events of the previous night. They were getting better at doing their thing—at least it seemed better. They were certainly louder, what with Yakko yelling that he’d entered the “Valley of Light” and Wakko so far into a climax, he started talking backwards.

Of course, there was the nipple-honking as well.

Yakko looked over at the clock. It was about 10:30 AM, which meant their appointment with Scratchy was in about an hour. Originally, it would have been the next day, but Wakko decided that Dot needed to know about her future niece or nephew sooner. Yakko willingly rescheduled the appointment, wanting to quickly get things resolved.

When they arrived at Scratchy’s office, Dot was already there. She sat on the couch, arms crossed. Though she looked a lot less angry than she had a couple days ago, Yakko still thought they should approach with caution.

Yakko and Wakko took their places on the couch next to Dot. Dot shot a dirty look at Wakko, who, still sore from their argument, temporarily turned into a magic mirror and reflected the look right back (but with his face instead of Dot’s).

Dot gave a dirtier look, shattering the mirror and turning Wakko back to normal.

Wakko stuck his tongue out.

Dot made an akanbe face at Wakko.

Wakko stuck his tongue out and turned his eyes into spirals.

Dot flipped Wakko the arm.

Wakko flipped Dot the bird. The Goodfeathers were scandalized.

“Hey, we’re making progress already! They’re communicating through hand gestures!” Yakko exclaimed. “Now if only they’d use their words.”

Currently, Wakko and Dot were flipping each other off, while flipping their own bodies, in a contest to see who could raise their middle finger higher. Dot started doing the Cabbage Patch with both her middle fingers raised. Wakko did the Bogle with his own two middle fingers.

“How are they doing that with only four fingers?” Yakko wondered aloud.

“Zhat is quite enough,” Scratchy commanded gently. “Now, Dot, please tell your brozers vhy you are so angry vith zhem.”

“I’m mad at them because they’re shacking up with each other, duh!” Dot rolled her eyes.

“Dot, does it really make you zhat angry?” Scratchy prompted.

“Of course it does! They’re brothers! That’s totally gross!” Dot made a face (not at Wakko this time).

“But Vakko has done gross things in zhe past und it has not angered you so.”

“Yeah, well….This is different,” Dot tried to explain.

“How so?”

“Well….They were having sex! And….Did either of you really even know what you were doing?”

“Did we ever,” Yakko beamed. Wakko’s heavy-lidded, blissed-out expression was his answer.

“See how they’re acting, Scratchy? They’re just blatantly throwing it around like Wakko’s underwear!”

“Hey, I resent that!” Wakko yelled. “I don’t even wear underwear!”

“And there it is again! Just no shame whatsoever!”

Yakko then realized that he’d barely said anything the entire appointment. He decided he’d better remedy that.

“Oh, we have plenty of shame. And it’s all towards how you’re behaving right now!” Yakko responded. “You’re supposed to talk to us like a normal person, not shout and hurl insults!” Yakko noticed Wakko sitting quietly on the couch next to him. He leaned in close and whispered, “This is your cue to defend yourself against her calling you a whore.”

“I’m not going to,” Wakko stated simply. Both Dot and Yakko stared shocked, as did Scratchy.

“You’re right, Dot. I have no shame. I love my brother and I want to make sweet, hot love to him every day. In fact, I want him in me right now. And if that makes me a dirty whore, then fine.”

Scratchy was utterly speechless. He’d never heard such language from Wakko, especially not directed at Dot.

“And I have no problem with the fact that I’m pregnant with his child,” Wakko continued casually, as Dot’s jaw dropped further. “That’s right—I’m knocked up and it’s Yakko’s.”

Dot continued to star in horror. Scratchy followed suit. Yakko sat back and watched the show.

The office went dark and a single spotlight shone on Wakko, who was now wearing a black shiny leotard, not unlike one Madonna had worn in a certain music video. Scratchy, Dot, and Yakko watched in horror (or in Yakko’s case, amusement) as the music began and Wakko sang:

(Author's Note: to the tune of "Papa Don't Preach" by Madonna)

“Dot, I know that you’re already upset, Because I’m always acting gross. But you should know by now, That’s just how I am. You think that this whole thing is wrong. Well, I don’t care my love is way too strong. I may be young at heart But I know what I’m saying. Our brother knows how to turn me on. We’ve been making love while you were gone. We really can’t help ourselves, And I don’t mean maybe. So please…. Dottie, don’t freak; He makes my heart scream. Dottie, don’t freak; He is my wet dream And I’ve made up my mind, I’m keeping my baby, yeah.”

By the time the music ended, Dot had unhinged her jaw like a snake. Scratchy, who had gotten over the initial shock, asked Yakko, “I zhought she did not like to be called ‘Dottie.’”

“Well, judging from her reaction, I don’t think she cared,” Yakko answered, waving a hand in front of Dot’s face.

-O-o-O-

“This ending sucks, and you’re to blame. You’re giving fic a bad name,” Hrothella critiqued. “Try again.”

Fae balled up the pieces of paper and started over. “I guess that don’t impress her much.”

-O-o-O-o-O-

And the moral of today’s story is: When you can't talk it out, sing about it instead.

I saw goatse when I was around twelve and I think I turned out fine (much to my acquaintances' shock).

Your mileage may vary, though. I would not recommend seeking it out.

https://www.tumblr.com/just-antithings/752278496116670464/now-i-never-want-to-doubt-victims-however-when?source=share I've told people I saw kinky/strange media as a kid and they acted like it was THE WORST THING EVER TO EVER HAPPEN TO SOMEONE when it reality, at that time, I was safe bodily, and either curious or disturbed mentally. If I had someone to calmly explain to me, what the deal was, I think I would have been even better.

Though I wonder how many people in anti spaces are tricked into thinking that things are worse than they really are. Egg on each others sensitivity to ridiculous levels, rather than trying to help each other recognise that while it may not have been pleasant to see such things, it wasn't the end of the world.

If someone was genuinely traumatised by media I feel sorry for them, but I think a lot of it is coercion and over-reaction

.

Animaniacs headcanon

While other people are sent into a gibbering spiral at the sight of eldritch beings, Dot can just calmly carry on a conversation with them. Sometimes, they even decide to go home with her and be her pet.

She would charm the tentacles off of Cthulhu.

Any character can be mpregged if you're not a fucking coward

Any pairing can be aroace if you're not a fucking coward