#otherwise this is going to be awkward

[mapletine]

happy april fools day

yes that is the winged lion

[zuppizup]

My angsty brain: So… Callum’s Dad died of some kind lung condition, eh? Sure would be a shame if that was hereditary

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [19]

A couple days ago, or maybe it’s been a week now, there had been a horrid storm.

It had been bad enough on the surface but underwater it had caused extremely powerful currents that have dragged a very young Garth away and into the unknown.

He really should have listened to Atlan and stayed put…

Lost and alone, a Little Garth has found himself a lot closer to the surface than usual, the sea currents are still churning pretty bad and he simply can’t navigate his way back to anything remotely familiar.

At this point he’s quite hungry and tired, and he’s found that catching something is somewhat easier nearer to the surface.

However, now something entirely different has caught his attention.

still safely tucked away under the waves. Garth is watching two surface dwellers. judging by size they should be even younger than Garth is, which probably means their caretaker(s) are nearby.

Garth is about to leave them to it and go his own way when he catches on to the erratic kicking movements of the smallest one.

oh, he’s pretty sure surface dwellers aren’t supposed to stay underwater that long, that is if Atlan’s stories are correct.

And even though he’s somewhat terrified, he finds he can’t just… though he probably should…

Well, he ends up saving Danny from drowning.

Jazz and Danny’s parents are busy with a supposed haunted shipwreck and not paying attention.

But by saving Danny Garth found by Maddie and Jack. Who are worried that Garth is there all alone which is like... kinda hypocritical but whatever.

No ghost, but they got a sea boy!

and that quickly has them reassessing their disappointing conclusion that the wreck isn’t haunted, clearly the ghosts are somewhere underwater! After all, the ship was lost at sea and simply washed ashore.

Garth can’t really communicate that great with the Fenton’s. He doesn’t know english, and they do not have telepathy, the only thing he can catch from them is impressions of their emotions, which does make figuring out “yes” and “no” a bit easier.

At first he decides to accept their offer of shelter and food simply because he’s tired and hungry, and they seem like good people even if they are from the surface.

Then Garth makes the mistake of getting attached. All of a sudden he’s put in a eldest brother role. Jazz is determined to teach him english with her kid books and Danny has been attached to him like a barnacle ever since Garth got him out of the water.

And Garth’s needs aren’t even remotely treated as some sort of annoyance, they make note of his need for lots of water and adapt easily.

Everything is extremely overwhelming but thankfully for Garth they don't make the offer to take him with them to Amity Park right away.

They are on a family trip so they stick to the sea for another week and a half or so. After that they ask if he wants to just come with, Danny basically begs him, having an older brother seems like the best thing ever to him.

And Garth ends up taking the offer cause the last week was better than most of his lonely life so far, even if everything is weird and difficult and he can't communicate right.

[frootbyethefoot]

hm. the fact that ford dreams about being famous and becoming this household name in the scientific community while also uh. not being very good at social interaction is soo fascinating to me. which further backs up my belief that it's not rlly about being famous, it's about the praise, it's about feeling like he's proven himself as "more than a freak" its about going "see! i am a productive member of society! i'm more than a freak and i'm more than my circumstances! i'm worth something!"

because let's be real here, i don't think ford "local recluse who was so isolated from the town he lived in that nobody noticed when his brother came in and took over his identity" pines would've even liked being famous very much! do you really think this guy would like being under a magnifying glass? i think he would just be really overwhelmed 24/7.

it makes me wonder how better world ford deals with it. he's still in contact with fiddleford in that dimension, does he leave a lot of the social stuff up to him? i mean, fiddleford managed to start a cult, so he could probably do it if he wanted too, but even then i don't think he'd be fully comfortable with it. is he a very private and isolated famous person? or does ford do it himself? how does he feel about it? i have a million questions about the better world dimension, it's so endlessly interesting to me. god what i would give to see what better world ford is up too.

[skullmakesmelaugh]

I saw a thing about being interactive with followers, and so because this is a blog dedicated to Lockwood and Co, write in with any haunted occurrences you have had! :D Tbh they don’t even have to be true, if you enjoy writing short horror stories send them in to my asks

[fortune-maiden]

Feveruary Day 7: 'I'm still not used to being taken care of'

Live action verse! :D

And also a double drabble because Huang Shaotian Cheng Xiaoshi cannot be contained!

“ – and you can forget the top bunk, when it comes to concussions, let me tell you – ” Cheng Xiaoshi’s mouth didn’t stop moving as he went in and out of the living room, bringing more of their bedroom back with him each time. From the couch, Lu Guang watched helplessly, icepack to his brow, unable to follow the dizzying whirlwind of conversation. That wasn’t because of his actual dizziness. That was Cheng Xiaoshi’s usual effect. “There. We. Go!” The two-hour countdown was set, and Cheng Xiaoshi nodded at the filled up room satisfied. With everything he needed for the night, and then some, he settled in his chair cross-legged with a bag of chips and a smug grin. “It’s funny, isn’t it. I’ve taken so many blows to the head tonight yet I’m still perfectly fine. You, meanwhile, took one and landed in the hospital. Aiyah, lie back down. Didn’t you hear me say I’ll look after you? Is that so hard to accept?” “No, it’s just,” the corners of Lu Guang’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards. “I guess I’m still not used to being taken care of.” Cheng Xiaoshi gave him a long look. Then piled on another blanket.

[eyes1nthewoods]

wait actually. how did that meeting lann's mom go for maercy sjsbshnsj

she completely misunderstood what ria was asking

[theskyexists]

Damn that murderbot trailer kinda sucks

[tearlessrain]

can I ask when you started on hrt? cause I'm just starting now (25) and although I logically know that's definitely not too late, I can't help but feel sucker-punched by grief every once in a while that I don't get to spend my early twenties in a body that feels like mine.

many internet hugs for you, anon. I didn't start hrt until I was around 26 and didn't come out at all until about a year before that, and I absolutely spent some time early on grieving the time I lost, especially since the pandemic struck just as I was finally starting to feel comfortable in my own body.

however, I'm now 32, and that sense of grief and regret has only grown more distant the more time I've spent living how I was meant to be. and I promise you have much, much more time than it feels like. at age 25 I was literally a bridesmaid in my brother's wedding (we joke about it now), and within like two years I'd completely socially transitioned and was working in a salon in cosmetology school where none of my clients knew me as anything other than the Obligatory Resident Gay Guy. I've made friends, I've gotten involved with the local kink community, I got comfortable enough to grow my hair back out and go full tolkien elf, and it feels fantastic. There's a lot of cultural emphasis on your early 20s in media and online culture, but it's really a tiny sliver of your entire life and pretty much nobody, trans or cis, has fully become themselves by that point.

That's not to say the grief doesn't have a place, I still have my moments where I think about what could have been and mourn the person I wasn't able to be, but the experiences you'll have going forward will more than make up for it.

[ancient-wanderer]

September 3, 1995 – the Executive Residence

She pads barefoot down the hall after tucking Scotty in, leaving him to drift off to the soft cadence of an old audiobook, something about the moon. He still likes the NASA stories, even if he never quite believes she used to live up there.

In the kitchen, she fills a glass from the filtered tap. Takes a sip. Then another. The coolness centers her, but her thoughts are still unspooling, drifting back toward the day. She doesn’t go to bed. Not yet. Instead, she finds herself moving on instinct, veering toward the sitting room like her body already knew what her mind hadn’t admitted: that sleep won’t come easy tonight.

It’s quiet here. Dim. Just the low hum of security lighting and the distant blur of D.C. traffic. She crosses to the window, drawn to the faint spill of city glow beyond the glass, and stands there, letting the dark settle around her. She presses her forehead against the glass, her breath fogging a small circle on the pane.

The press briefing was nine hours ago, but it hasn’t really ended. Her staff is still scattered across war rooms and call loops. Phones are ringing. Damage control unfolding in real time. Half the party has the knives out already. The other half is waiting to see if she’s still useful.

Larry was ready to take the fall alone. A clean confession. A quiet exit. Ready to spin it clean—oblivious wife, wayward husband, a discreet scandal they could move past. But she didn’t want that version printed. Not for Scotty.

Because their son would’ve grown up thinking it was Larry’s lie that broke the family, and Ellen’s silence that let it happen. She’d spent a lifetime shaping a story that made sense to the world. Tonight, for the first time, she’d told the one that was true.

Not because she was brave. But because she couldn’t stomach asking anyone else, especially him, to carry it.

And she was tired. So tired—of hiding, of spinning, of choking on things that should’ve been said. This truth had waited long enough.

Headlights flare on E Street below, catching in the glass like a spark. The moment snags her attention. Beyond the fences, the city keeps breathing. Out there, the world is reacting. Applauding. Condemning. Dissecting. Wondering what she’ll do next.

So is she.

She lowers herself onto the edge of the couch, the glass nestled between her palms. She takes another sip. Her thoughts don’t land. They just loop.

The truth is out and that should feel like something. But, it doesn’t feel like triumph. It feels like standing naked in a storm. Her chest tight. Her pulse a drumbeat in her throat. Exposed in a way that no EVA suit ever prepared her for. But underneath that, the quietest whisper of something else.

Relief. With a tinge of… it’s not regret. She just doesn’t know what comes next. For so long, the closet was the price of entry. To NASA. To politics. To safety. To control. And now, now she’s stepped out into the light, and there’s no going back. No unringing the bell.

She watches the light from the Washington Monument cut across the dark lawn in pale slices. She used to find comfort in its geometry, in the perfect symmetry. But tonight, it feels like standing in the middle of a solved equation and realizing it still doesn’t add up.

There was a time she imagined this moment. Coming clean, stepping forward, and someone else was always here.

Someone who would’ve understood what it cost her to hold her breath for this long.

She leans back slowly, the couch cushion barely yielding. Her eyes trace the lines of the window again. Clean. Ordered. Just like everything she built.

Except the thing she wanted most never fit in those lines.

She tips her head back, eyes stinging. She used to imagine Pam would be here. Not in the crowd, not watching from a distance, but just... here. Beside her. A hand on her knee, maybe. A look that said, Finally.

But the last time she saw her, there was no joy in her eyes. No anger, either. No fight left.

Just that quiet, steady sadness. Not from being left behind, but from watching someone she loved choose silence over and over. For herself, for them, for all the others who never had Ellen’s power and her platform. Pam had stopped believing she’d ever use it.

And maybe that’s fair. Maybe Ellen’s words today don’t undo the years she spent biting them back. Maybe what she did today was too little, too late.

Or... maybe not. Maybe it was still something. Maybe it was finally brave.

And maybe that bravery doesn’t have to end here. Tomorrow, when the headlines scream and the questions pile up…

Maybe she can do the next brave thing. Maybe she can go get her girl.

[tea-and-secrets]

my secret is that i don't think i have a future. i'm turning 18 in a month, maybe by the time you post this ask i will already be 18 for a while, but well, im not there yet. i just finished high school kicking and screaming, literally thought i wouldn't survive it to the point i was considering ending it all several times, but i finished it. now what? now i know i have to go to uni but i also know i won't be able to make it through. i barely scraped by with high school and now my mental health is at an all time low (thought 2021 was my worst year but life is full of surprises) and if college is harder than high school like people say it is, then i'm just royally fucked. it does not help that i don't know who i want to be in life. i'm bilingual and have language skills, but if i study for a translator job then it's just like-- who even needs it? i live in russia. my country is in shambles and so is its economy and relationship with other countries. russia does not need a fucking translator because everybody hates it and for good reason. i can't imagine any future for myself here. when i was a kid it all seemed so clear to me, i would grow up and live with my best friend and be happy and have a job i love. now whenever i think of being grown up my mind just comes up blank. my best friend has probably forgotten that we ever wanted to live together, or they just left the idea behind because it was so childish and unrealistic. i feel like i've been drifting away from them as well as my entire friend group for the past 2 years. i'm autistic, so i just don't see the world the same way they do. i used to love being aroace before i realized it's distancing me from my friends, because now they all have partners or they're yearning for partners or talking about all the sex they've had and i just have nothing to add to the conversation. i don't smoke or drink, so i guess now i'm just not as interesting to hang out with as when we were all 15 and sober. so yeah. i guess i just dont know what im going to do or what's going to happen to me. i've spent the last few years feeling more and more isolated and sinking into depression. if i get into college, i don't know what it's going to do to me, but it makes me fear for my life. if i don't get into it, then i dont know what im going to do at all. maybe my real secret is that i was put on this earth to draw gay people and not like, have a life and relationships. oh well.

.

[shartfinz]

I don't think Luigi would have ever had any of his own friends for like most of his life because he is a yapper

[inimitablereel]

I bookmark pretty much every fic I finish as a way of keeping track of what fic I've read, and I almost always do private bookmarks, so yeah, I feel totally comfortable leaving the occasional negative (or like neutral but in a way I wouldn't send to the author) note for my future self. Except I have now at least twice (over several years) typed that into the comment box instead of the bookmark box by accident and that is Absolutely Mortifying

[mistressemmedi]

Mr. We Want Answers is saying Dutch boy to 🏹 by end of year because T shaped boy is out of contract at the end of year.

Calling George T shaped boy is FOUL lmaooo

[sukibenders]

Aegon may have despised Viserys, and rightfully so, but it's so fascinating that, even if for such a short time, his parenting mirrored his father's. Like it just goes to show that, no matter how much he tries, he'll never truly be far from him in some way.

[wanderinghedgehog]

writing a fic but not adding the characters’ actual names til the last minute because I don’t wanna make them do something until I’m absolutely sure that’s what they’re doing.