#(is it??? i have no slightest idea)

[uncanny-tranny]

Amatonormativity has destroyed so many people's understanding and acceptance of themselves, and it's heartbreaking.

Yes, it is normal to be in your 20s, 30s, or older and not have lost your virginity, had a first kiss, or a partner. It is normal to say that you aren't ready for those things, too! It is normal if your life doesn't follow the "college graduate -> engagement -> buying a home -> 2.5 kids and a dog" trajectory that so many people have idealized.

So many people associate maturity with losing your virginity, or having a first kiss, or a serious relationship, and I think that's a dangerous association. Maturity isn't gained through those things, and you don't have to have those experiences to be considered "mature" or "grown." It is not a bad thing to go at your pace. Nobody else can live your life but you. If you end up having those experiences, that's great! But it should be done because you want to experience them, not because you feel "broken" and "immature" without them.

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[whotfelsewantedtobelynnyx]

Of all the theories as to how Carmilla and her daughters found eachother in Hell (adoption, reuniting after they died, one or all three being Hellborn, ect;), I think my personal favorite is the one where Carmilla was either pregnant when she died or later gave birth to a child she miscarried when she was alive.

But whether or not that’s true, one of my favorite crack theories/headcanons about Carmilla being pregnant in Hell is how absolutely weird the other Overlords would be about it- because let’s be real, they would absolutely be weird about it. Maybe supportive and weird, but weird.

Zestial, nervously following Carmilla around: My darling. My own heart. I beg of thou, please, for just a moment.

Carmilla, still stubbornly walking around in her ridiculously sharp shoes: I’M FINE.

Zestial, who’s been trying to get her to sit down or at least change her shoes for over an hour: 0,_0

Rosie, crouched at her side with a glass of something red and questionable: I’m telling you, honey, just try this. It’ll cure that morning sickness in a jiffy.

Carmilla, curled up on her bathroom floor: …it disturbs me that I’m nauseous enough to actually be considering this.

Zestial comes to her rescue and shoos Rosie out to go make her some (GINGER) tea before Carmilla can do something she’ll regret.

Alastor, gazing suspiciously: Why on earth is your abdomen moving like that? Is something trying to break out?

Carmilla, too exhausted to deal with this: That movement is my baby kicking, Alastor.

Alastor: Pardon? You mean to tell me that one can see that on the outside? Eugh.

Carmilla, glaring at him: You are so lucky you’re not worth getting up for.

- Rosie insists on throwing her a baby shower. Vox and Alastor get kicked out for fighting and are forced to put together the IKEA furniture for the nursery as punishment.

- I seriously doubt this lot can build and work an ultrasound machine, so something like this is likely.

Carmilla, slowly coming to after giving birth: Mmmh…?

Rosie, happily bouncing one baby in her arms: Oh good, she’s up! Congratulations, sweetie. You have two beautiful daughters 🥰

Carmilla: ….

Zestial, who’s gently cradling the other: Carmilla…? Is something the matter?

Carmilla: …there’s really two of them. I thought I was hallucinating.

BONUS:

Fun fact- some scientists say cats have sensitive enough hearing that they can hear babies’ heartbeats within their mother’s bodies.

Husk, staring at Carmilla:

Carmilla, who’s still processing that she’s pregnant and hasn’t begun telling anyone else: …is something wrong?

Husk, ears bristling slightly: h o w m a n y h e a r t s d o y o u h a v e ?

[carpetbug]

been having a wee bit of brain rot over bunny!chloe aka Duvet. she is hopping around my head uncontrollably so expect a lot more of her

[yea-baiyi]

i keep thinking about the odyssey i am THINKING about wei wuxian as odysseus. you were dead. its been years since you’ve seen your family. the child you left behind is almost a man. you wear a face they don’t recognise, you sneak in through the back door. the dog gives your identity away. the world knows it’s you when you draw your weapon. the person you love recognises you by the original symbol of your love—a secret that no one else in the world knows about, still, because they kept it safe for all these years. you get the chance to go back and despite everything, you found home waiting for you; he kept your place and raised your son and he was still there waiting for you when you got back. tell me o muse, about a complicated man i am extremely not okay

[nulllray]

rid15 star practice ft. a glimpse into my twisted mind

[the-heart-of-a-monster]

THOAM ISSUE 7 PAGE 29

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ISSUE 1 - ISSUE 2 - ISSUE 3 - ISSUE 4 - ISSUE 5 - ISSUE 6

[marlynnofmany]

You know how in stories where the heroes save the world from some magical apocalypse, a lot of the time the general public has no idea? They just go about their lives afterward, not even realizing how close they came to disaster, much less that there's someone to thank for that?

Picture how those heroes feel.

That's how the programmers who stopped the Y2K bug most likely feel.

Thanks for saving us, folks. I just heard the song "Party Like It's 1999", and thought of you.

[many-gay-magpies]

oh a very sad idea i had a few days ago. in a world where edwin doesn't die at 16—whether the sacrifice doesn't happen, or it doesn't work, or whatever—he'd very likely get drafted into WWI. in a world where he survives THAT, then all the years that follow, he could... very possibly still be alive by the time charles comes around. the year charles is set to die, this edwin-that-survived would be 89. maybe he married a woman to make his parents and society at large happy, or maybe he managed to find some modicum of queer joy for himself even with the constraints of his time period (or maybe some combo of both—hey, lavender marriage!).

i'm just... imaging a scenario where somewhere, somehow, edwin and charles meet, both of them alive. charles, a 16 year old kid hiding his trauma with sun-bright smiles, and edwin, 73 years past where in another life, his life ended. maybe charles is out with his mum and meets edwin shopping, or maybe he runs away from home—in a world where HE doesn't die when he would have, either—and somehow winds up on edwin's doorstep. and i keep thinking, who would edwin be then? without hell, without charles? with 73 more years of life under his belt? and i'm imagining this small, fleeting moment of charles getting advice and solace from a queer elder edwin, and yet underneath it there's just this sense of... missed time. in this life, the threads of their destinies are barely intertwined, fated to only just graze each other this once before passing on apart from each other, but maybe—in that touch, there's the barest glimpse of another life. a life where their threads are so completely intertwined that it can't help but bleed through the slightest bit, even here—but it was tragedy upon tragedy upon tragedy that even made the connection in that other life possible.

charles meets edwin, but he is alive and young with his whole life ahead of him, endless possibilities once he manages to escape his father. charles meets edwin, but edwin is old, most of his life already behind him; he'll likely pass on peacefully within a few years if he is not already on his way. they meet, and they're practically strangers, and they won't be anything other than that, because in this life their paths cross only briefly—but in that brief meeting, the slightest sense of loss prickles somewhere in each of them.

haha. anyways

[skimmeh]

Mmmmight be making a team to help run the Stareater au! As we've come to a realisation how slow the story would be told without help (we both artists...so writing definitely ain't our strong suit) but I'm Determined!!! to tell the story in its entirety

we already have some very talented artist friends willing to draw episodes covers occasionally! And also help with stuff like proof reading!

And I do still want to do most of the heavy lifting with the au as it don't wanna put any stress on others ..buttt I do need help with writing and sorta have to bite the bullet and ask for help haha

But writers are where we need the most help currently

Thing is I wouldn't know the first thing about how to find ppl willing to help with writing. I also wanna make sure I'm organised and know at least some skill when it comes to running a collaborative project like this, to avoid any stress, because that's honestly my biggest fear to stress people out like I have been :') cos we're also we're doing all this for free and purely as a self indulgent project

HM so ..if you got any advice on how to find writers or run a team! Tell meee

For now I'll focus on ...uni work considering I'm also doing that on the side HAH

But yeah! ..also ep 5 as soon as I have the time to finalise it!

[legolasghosty]

Lockwood has never been overly fond of lavender. Sure, it's nicer looking and smelling than most of the other tools used to separate the living and the dead, but he's always felt a bit annoyed at it. He rarely brings it up though, because there's not really a reason for his dislike.

Maybe it's that the purple stalks are everywhere, all the time. Along every London street, in every garden, in every room where mortals fear those who have passed beyond. Even in the winter, everyone has dried flowers in their homes and sprinkles the oils over their doorsteps. There's no way to get away from the stuff.

Maybe it's because lavender water is one of the weakest tools in an agent's toolkit. Lockwood barely ever uses it for anything other than reassuring clients that their home is safe after a job. For all the discussion of it, it's nothing in comparison to some sturdy iron chains and a rapier when it comes to battling ghosts. It's just a waste of space in his coat during a job.

Maybe it has to do with the way the scent sets people at ease. Somewhere in George's research, Lockwood remembers him mentioning how lavender water used to be used to treat insomnia before the Problem. Even now, with it being used to protect mortals from everything that goes bump in the night, he doesn't miss how the smell of lavender tends to cause people to loosen up, laugh a bit more, and let their guards down. Any kind of weakness can mean death for an agent, even when it comes from one of their own weapons.

Or, if he's being honest, maybe it goes deeper than that. Maybe it's because Jessica's room is always covered in the stuff, and has been since the day he failed to save her. Maybe it's because the flowery scent is all he can remember from his parents' funeral. Maybe it's because the stupid plants kept tripping him when he ran away from his old agency. Maybe it's just too many bad memories.

Regardless of the reason, Lockwood has never really liked lavender.

However, it's hard to hold onto those thoughts with Lucy sitting on the grass nearby, surrounded by night watch children, with a sloppy crown of purple flowers on her head.

She's had a soft spot for them for as long as Lockwood has known her. She claims it's because of how close she became to being one of them when she first got to London. Lockwood suspects that's not the whole story. But today, her kind heart has led them to a park down the street from Portland Row, at the beckoning of a group of children who had pooled their meager earnings to have a picnic.

Lockwood has stayed on the outskirts of the little gathering, unsure as to what would be expected of him if he joined in. But Lucy is right in the middle, regaling the kids with stories of the ghosts she's defeated. They're hanging on her every word. Lockwood can't blame them for it, Lucy is a good storyteller when she wants to be. Even if she glazes over his parts in some of her tales.

But one of the older ones had gotten restless and begun plucking sprigs of lavender from a nearby bush. Lockwood had been about to reprimand them for the needless destruction of public property, but they'd begun weaving the stems together into a chain before he could speak. It was barely five minutes before they looped the chain into a circle and plopped it onto Lucy's head without a word.

And now, staring at Lucy, her eyes bright in the sunshine, her hands waving around as she described the Greenhouse Ghoul, and those flowers shining like gemstones in her hair, Lockwood can't quite remember why he doesn't like lavender.

In fact, he thinks he very much enjoys how it looks right now. Maybe it's not so bad after all.

(For the most recent Lockwood and Co Flash Fiction Challenge by @lockwoodandcoff!)

[glitterrosesnzz]

I saw you might accept tiny drabble reqs for Wanderer?

What about Sethos, Traveler, or even Childe (if you wanna go Scaramouche) finding a "malfunction" in his body that when triggered immediately causes a sneeze/sneeze fit, no matter what. Could be tweaking a certain mechanism, could be a surge of elemental energy (specific element or not), could be dragging a touch in a specific line or rythym along his face/nose?

Might suck idk

this went through so many rewrites that i felt like i was bordering on losing it entirely. i cut off a huge chunk of words cause i just couldn't figure out how to conclude it through that route. maybe i'll reuse it for a different fic later....

anyways. i took creative liberties when it came to what the "malfunction" was hope u don't mind-

"Hh'InKkyYSHhii!"

A particularly strong breeze ruffled Sethos' hair as he startled, almost dropping the cat in his arms as he spun around to stare at the Wanderer, who had been standing behind him. Of all the responses Sethos' could've gotten to off-handedly comparing the other to the cute little kitten in his arms, he hadn't been expecting that.

It was obvious the Wanderer hadn't been expecting it either, if the startled and slightly hazy look on his face was any indication. Sethos opened his mouth to ask- and was interrupted before he could even begin as the Wanderer snapped forwards with two more drawn out sneezes, the resulting pulses of anemo making the loose edges of his clothes flutter.

"HihH'KksShHnii! Hh-heEH-hH'iikKSHyhn-tii!" The Wanderer pressed the back of his hand against his nose, rubbing it for a moment before stopping and just letting his hand rest there, pressed against his nose.

"Woah, are you okay? Those sound way worse than normal." Sethos finally managed to ask- and, as he sort of predicted, the Wanderer responded to that by glaring at him.

"Tch, I'm fine." The Wanderer's voice also sounded different than usual, though Sethos couldn't really place his finger on what, exactly, was different. "Just ihH- ...ignore it-hH'IinNkSHhiiu!!"

"Kinda hard to ignore it when you keep doing it." Sethos said, trying to fix the strands of his hair that'd been blown out of place- and oh, now he knows why the Wanderer's voice sounded off- "You sound a bit congested- are you sick?"

"Wh- no. I-I'm not."

"Then what's up with you?"

"It's just- hH-hiH-.... a-a cat allergy."

"...A cat allergy." Sethos deadpanned, glancing down at the cat in his arms to see if it was believing this complete bullshit before looking back up at the Wanderer, who avoided his eyes.

"What, do you need me to... to repeat it?" The Wanderer rubbed slightly more intensely at his nose, clearly trying to hold back another sneeze.

"No no no, it's just- well, I've seen you hanging out with cats before, and there's never been any-"

"HhiH'KkyYSHhii! Fuck!" The Wanderer swore, before rapidly turning and starting to hurriedly walk away from Sethos.

"Wait, hey! Where are you going?!"

"None of your business!"

~

Over the past three days, Sethos had come to collect a mental list of the Wanderer's supposed 'allergies'. Cats, dust, Sumeru roses, a passerby's perfume, and... sand.

Sethos took issue with that last one specifically, he was absolutely certain that one was not possible, and besides, they're in the city. Sethos has been staying in a rented room and hasn't been back to the desert in over a week- there's not even any sand here to be allergic to!

So, overall, Sethos is 99.8% sure the Wanderer is just outright lying, and should really really be resting in a bed, because he did not seem to be getting better- and the redness of his face, whenever Sethos managed to catch a good glimpse of it from under the Wanderer's hat, was just red enough to indicate a fever.

And, of course, this conclusion is what led Sethos to, at the first opportunity, grab hold of the Wanderer's arm and start practically dragging him back to the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

From the moment he grabbed hold of him, Sethos couldn't help but note that it felt like the Wanderer was shaking.

Shockingly enough, the Wanderer had stopped protesting after the first few minutes, obediently letting himself be pulled along in silence. Or, well, near silence- the Wanderer sneezing intermittently as they walked upward.

(There was also a faint sort of... whirring noise that Sethos couldn't place. He chose to ignore it for now, focusing on the Wanderer's obvious illness first).

Nahida standing at the entryway to the Sanctuary with her arms crossed wasn't much of a surprise.

Aether standing next to her in the exact same pose kinda-sorta was though.

"Hey," Aether said, sliding up between Sethos and the Wanderer, "Hand Mr. Hat Guy over to me while you explain... whatever is going on to Nahida."

After a moment, Sethos obediently handed the Wanderer over (the Wanderer himself too busy focusing on holding his breath in an attempt to keep himself from sneezing to protest), and then turned to begin to explain the situation to Nahida, not even noticing Aether leading the Wanderer off to the side.

"You have to tell him." Aether whispered, "You can't keep this up forever."

The Wanderer, still holding his breath, shook his head no.

"No as in you don't wanna tell him, or no as in you agree that you can't keep this up?"

Aether smirked as the Wanderer glared at him, before turning to pay more attention to Sethos' explanation.

"-and he keeps insisting that he's just allergic-"

"Ha, allergic to blushing maybe." Aether mumbled. The Wanderer harshly elbowed him in the chest, before snapping to the side with a sneeze.

"Hh-hIH'KksSHhyii!! HehH-" The Wanderer's wavering breath was quick to hitch again, and he hurriedly pinched his nose shut, attempting to hold his breath again. Aether noticed with some amusement that the whirring noise that had arrived with the Wanderer had just gotten considerably louder.

"Y'see!" Sethos said loudly, snapping both Aether and the Wanderer's attention back to him. "He clearly needs to be in bed!"

"I-I'm finehH-hH'iikKSHyhn-tii!! Hh'InKkyYSHhii!!"

"His room is on the right, five doors down the left hallway." Nahida said, ignoring the Wanderer's sputtered attempts at protest through hitching breaths. Sethos promptly thanked her, and wasted no time in snatching the Wanderer's wrist and dragging him into the Sanctuary. Aether walked back up to stand beside Nahida as they both watched the Wanderer willingly get led to the left and then vanish down the hallway.

"Y'know." Aether started, "I don't think he hates this treatment, as much as he's trying to make it seem otherwise. ...How long do you think until he tells him-"

"-that his systems are overreacting to being flustered, and the whirring vibration is affecting him in very unsubtle ways?" Nahida finished for him, "Hm... I'd say about a week."

"You wanna bet on it?"

"Sure!"

[3leafstem]

someone convince me not to spend dozens of hours designing DC/Batfamily card deck or tarot deck.

[alterrune]

Splatoon 3's Grand Festival is coming up, so, to celebrate, the entire blog has been given a green hue to match Team Future's color.

Here's my new icon (courtesy of @fuzzyoctoplushie) and my new banner for the event!

Also included is an icon that didn't quite make the cut. It honestly looked TERRIBLE to me, lol.

[chiropteracupola]

and when the streetlights sputter out / they make this awful sizzling sound...

[my half of an art trade with the fabulous @subsequentibis - his oc sal cereza!]

[gothsuguru]

i’m having so much trouble w just the Start of this fic because i don’t know where/how to start 😭 i’m posting this when the dash is dead but if you see this plz lmk if i could get your opinion on a few things 😪

^ me this morning w my fic on my mind </3 here’s a loserboy suguru for your troubles…………… <333