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sitepathos · 3 days ago

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From Gold to Mold

Chapter 12: The Fight (Warning: this chapter will feature blood and violence. Proceed at your own risk)

“Look at all this,” you whisper as you take in the sights of the Strip, all the various casinos and hotels lighting up the night sky. “I returned to Nevada four years ago and I’ve never been here before. What the hell was I thinking?”

(You were trying to set up your new life, which was the responsible thing to do back then. But, we agree, coming here sooner would not have been unwelcome. This city seems to be a source of endless entertainment.)

You had finished the DLC for Salvage Rights earlier today and to celebrate both its release and its positive reception, you decided to treat yourself by going to Sin City and indulging in its various casinos and restaurants; you have the knowledge and experience of countless gamblers from Gotham, so you should be able to play blackjack and poker with the best of them.

You thought you were prepared to handle and glitz and glamor Vegas has to offer, but seeing it with your own eyes has left you speechless. The lights have you mesmerized and you’re loving it! Everywhere you look, there’s something beckoning you, like a moth to a flame and right now, you don’t care if you get burned.

“Hey, look over there,” you say, stopping to look at something above you in the distance.

The sight is a towering building proudly bearing the name “Caesar’s Palace” in lights. During your brief research for your trip to the Strip, you read Caesar’s Palace is one of the most popular casinos in the city and is also a popular destination for dining.

(You did say you wanted the “full Vegas experience.” Going to one of the largest establishments in the city would be a step in the right direction.)

When you first thought of this little excursion, you wanted to have fun, but didn’t want to get trapped in the larger ones and lose all the money you brought in with you, instead opting to stay in the smaller casinos. “Keep it simple, keep it safe,” you said a few hours ago.

Now, the lights of the massive casino before you has ensnared you and is luring you towards it like an angler fish does with its prey.

“Ave, true to Caesar,” you say as you begin the trek towards the towering monolith.

If the outside was mesmerizing, then the inside is absolutely enthralling! As expected of a place named after a Greek emperor, the interior looks like a palace plucked from the Greek Empire, complete with marble and gold, making you feel like royalty.

(We take it we are going to play here?)

“Damn right,” you say as you enter the casino part of the resort, taking in the seemingly endless rows to slot machines, card tables, and other various gambling set ups.

As you look at each slot machine and table, you’re flooded with information from the Megamycete’s archives on what you want to see when playing slot machines and when is the best time to stand when playing blackjack. While Gotham doesn’t have shit on Vegas, it did have a passable gambling scene, which attracted many expert gamblers to that City of the Damned.

With your newfound knowledge in hand, you exchange the thousand bucks you brought with you for chips and make your way to a roulette table with only one other person.

“Good evening, sir,” the dealer greets you as you situate yourself of the other side of the table, away from the other player. “Will you be joining us?”

“Deal me in,” you respond, pushing a few chips on the table to test the waters. You may know the basics from playing Fallout New Vegas, but this is real life with real money being risked and this time you don’t have a maxed out Luck stat to cheat the system with.

A few hands in and you can say for sure you love gambling. Sure, you’ve lost a few rounds, ruining a couple hot streaks, but right now, you have more money than you came in with.

“Fifteen, odd, black,” the dealer says when the ball finally stops spinning before giving you the pot, much to your delight.

“Goddamn it,” the other man exclaims, shoving himself away from the table and storming off, hopefully towards the exit as tonight has not been his night.

“I apologize for that display,” the deal says as he readies the spinner for the next round. “Will you be playing another round?”

“Definitely,” you respond, sliding three-hundred dollars worth of chips onto red.

“Have room for one more,” a masculine voice rings out next to you.

You tense up when the voice registers in your head and you look to your right to see Bruce fucking Wayne, looking down at you with that fake ass smile he gives the idiots of Gotham. Your anger only intensifies when he places a thousand dollars worth of chips into the pot.

What the hell is he doing here?

(How dare he,) the Megamycete practically growls. (This is a night meant for you to enjoy yourself and he intrudes upon it, and in your city no less.)

“Welcome, Mr. Wayne,” the dealer says as he spins the spinner after the bastard places his bet.

“Hello, Y/N,” he says to you, his focus on you and not the spinner. “I have to say, I don’t peg you as the gambling type.”

You say nothing, not wanting to give him any sort of satisfaction, and focus on the game.

“It’s a very dangerous habit if you’re not careful,” he chides you as the baller begins to slow down. “And coming to a place like Vegas? It’s not safe for someone like you. You should be back home, where you belong.”

You know the “home” he’s referring to isn’t your house in Goodsprings, but Wayne Manor in Gotham and it’s taking all your willpower not to pimp smack the shit out of him right now. This was meant to be a night for you to have fun in Vegas and you’re not gonna let him ruin that like he did the night you won your award.

“Gotham has plenty of high-end casinos where you can play all the games you want. I could take you to each of them and make sure you get the VIP treatment.”

“Vegas is far safer than Gotham,” you retort. “Here, the biggest threat you face is losing your money when you don’t know when to quit. In Gotham, you have nut jobs running around killing people on a nightly basis and the biggest nut job of them all beating the crap out of them.” You give him a mocking look, knowing something that would get under his skin. “No one in their right mind would live in that cesspit of a city. If you ask me, that place should be nuked to hell.”

While he manages to hide it well, you can see just the faintest of winces and you let your smirk show. For whatever reason, he thinks Gotham is the best place on the planet and is worth protecting. You learned about Gotham’s seedy history from its early days as a colony established in 1635 and you can say for certain that area is cursed. If you had your way, a giant wall would be built around Gotham and everyone inside would be left to kill each other and rot in that cursed city, especially the Waynes.

“Gotham has its flaws, sure,” he responds. “But I’m able to look past its dark side and see a bright future for both the city and everyone that calls it home. As you know, Wayne Enterprises has been the vanguard of breathing new life into the city.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I heard WE’s stock has practically become worthless in the last few days. Rumor has it all major stockholders are demanding for you to step down as CEO.”

“I’ve been in tight spots before and I’ve always come out on top. This will be no different. I’m sure things will turn back around in no time.”

“Six, even, black,” the dealer announces, bringing you back to the game. “Congratulations, Mister Wayne.”

You roll your eyes as the pot goes to the son of a bitch. You mentally shake your head and place your chips on the table for the next round.

“Maybe you should step down,” you say as the dealer begins the round. “I was stuck in that manor of yours for over a decade and I know it’s a mess. You should really get your house in order before you go around ‘fixing’ Gotham.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my family,” he growls. “It’s perfect the way it is.”

“No one’s buying that story anymore, Mister Wayne. I take it you haven’t read Lois Lane’s latest article?”

“Of course I have,” he says, glaring at you and it makes you want to laugh knowing how you’re testing his limits. “How could you say those things about your family?”

“You’re not my family,” you snap. “You all made it quite clear I wasn’t a part of it over and over. The only family I’ve ever had was Momma and she was taken from me.”

The anger in his eyes fade and he was silent for a moment. “I know we made mistakes during your time with us and we’re sorry about that.”

“It’s too little, too late, Mister Wayne.”

“Twenty-four, even, black,” the dealer states, clearly more interested in your conversation than the game.

You can’t help but smile as the chips make their way back to you and you place a bet of five-hundred for the next round. Of course, Bruce doesn’t go way and instead places another bet.

“Please, Y/N, come home,” he pleads as the spinner is spun. “We all miss you. Especially Alfred.”

“He’s welcome to visit me whenever he wants. The rest of you can go to hell.”

“Like it or not, they’re your siblings, Y/N,” he growls, getting closer to you. “And I’m your father. You will show them, and me, the respect that entails.”

“Respect is earned, not given,” you retort, getting close and looking up at him. He may terrify Gotham’s criminally insane, but you know you’re better than him in every way, so you’re not scared. “And don’t get it mixed up, you’re a sperm donor, not my father. God knows you never acted like it.” You lean close so that your face is mere inches away from his. “If you want, we can take this outside, Mister Wayne. Just remember what happened last time things got physical between us.”

“Now, now, gentlemen,” the dealer says. “Let’s keep this friendly. We’re all here to have fun, right?”

(Listen to him, Y/N. Do not let him ruin your first trip to Vegas. There will be plenty of time to put him in his place after we have had our fun.)

You continue to stare at him and direct all your anger and hatred towards him until he finally concedes and backs off and you do the same, just in time for the ball to finally stop.

“Nineteen, odd, red,” the dealer says as he slides the chips to you.

“I just want to make things right,” he says as he places his bet. “I know I treated you wrong and I want to fix that. So we can be father and son.”

You roll your eyes at the pathetic words and even more pathetic look as you place your bet and the deal begins the round. “You’re not sorry, Mister Wayne, you just feel guilty. Whatever conscious you have in your twisted little soul is making you feel bad and you can’t stand it, so that’s why you’re humiliating yourself trying to earn something I can never and will never give you: my forgiveness.”

He winces enough for both you and the dealer to see, but you find yourself taking no joy in fracturing his mask. This was supposed to be a night of fun and games, but he had to come all the way from Gotham and ruin it. It’s actually made you despise him even more, a task you thought impossible until now.

“Twelve, even, red,” the dealer states as he slides the chips towards Bruce.

It’s then you notice that you and him have almost the same amount of chips and the sight of it ignites an inferno of competition, which fuels your desire to assert your superiority over this pathetic creature before you.

(We are with you,) the Megamycete states firmly. (Show this interloper his place!)

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he says as you place all your chips on red, your mother’s favorite color, glaring at him as you do. It’s then he does the same thing, but places his chips on black, the color of the Bat.

How predictable.

With both your bets placed, the dealer spins the roulette, signaling the final round between you two. When that little ball stops spinning, one of you will take all and the other will lose all.

“Please, there must be something I can give you to show you I’m sincere. And you of all people should price is no object for me. Just name it and it’s yours.”

(How pathetic! He thinks all those years of abuse and neglect can be erased by buying you some insignificant trinket? Does he think you some whore that can be bought? Show him how wrong he is, Y/N!)

“You want to know what I want, Mister Wayne,” you ask, malice dripping with your every word, as the ball begins to slow down and clatter around. “I want you to know that I hate you more than anything else on this world; I want it to rattle around in your head for the rest of your life, from when you’re around your collection of misfits to when you lay your head down at night, that there’s no word or phrase in any language that has ever existed or ever will exist on this planet that can fully express how much animosity and hatred I have for you.”

It’s then that you get in his personal space has he had done with you earlier and use the mold so you can stretch your body ever so slightly so your face is almost touching him and stare into those eyes you’ve come to despise so much and they stare back at you, full of hurt and shock.

In the background, you can hear the ball beginning to slow down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the game. Right now, all that matters is conveying just how much you hate Bruce Wayne.

“I want you to grow old and die knowing that, in the end, I was the one that rejected you.”

His response? Nothing but the widening of his eyes and stepping back, as if you had struck him.

“Seven, odd, red,” the dealer says, obviously shocked at what you just said.

You say nothing as you gather your chips and walk away, leaving Bruce Wayne behind to reflect on your words.

As you walk, you notice your heart is beating enough to burst out for your chest and your face is molten hot, even without touching it. In the moment, you had no idea how your words affected you as much as they apparently did that bastard.

(Perhaps we should return home,) the Megamycete suggests. (The night has been ruined and you need to rest after that interaction. We can always return another night for entertainment.)

As much as you hate to admit it, it’s right; after that display, you’re not in the mood to see what else you can get up to in your first night in Vegas. Being around him has brought back much of the anger you thought you had finally buried after moving back to Goodsprings and getting your life together and it’s killed any desire for gambling, dining, and everything in between.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice sounding weak even to you. “Let’s go home.”

You quickly cash in your chips and pocket the check the cashier gives you before making your way towards the exit. From there, you walk around until you find an alleyway tucked into an isolated and desolate part of the city to sprout mold armor and wings before taking off into the night sky.

“You know, the city looks even more breathtaking from up here,” you remark as you enter the vast expanse of the Mojave.

(Indeed. Maybe when we return, we will earn enough money from playing games that we can stay in the highest level of the tallest hotel of the city and see it again.)

“Yeah,” you respond with a throaty chuckle. “That’d be nice.”

You look down at the desert beneath you when you feel something hit your wings, slicing through and severing them, leaving you to fall to the ground. You shout as you harden your armor just in time as you impact with the sand, creating a deep crater.

(Are you alright,) it asks as you climb your way out.

“Yeah,” you respond with a groan. “What the hell happened?”

You get your answer once you make your way to the top and see Bruce, donned in his Batman gear, looking down at you.

“Are you alright,” he asks, as if he wasn’t the cause of the incident.

You dismiss your mold helm and look at him square in his eye slits, taking a deep breath and exhaling before saying, ever so calmly, “I’m going to kill you now.”

And with your intentions declared, you summon a new pair of wings and launch yourself towards the bastard and before he can react, you grab him by the face with one hand and propel the both of you backwards, using to wings to fly as you forcibly shove his head into the sand and push him forward, creating a trail in your wake.

His hands fly to yours and attempt to free himself from your grasp, but you don’t give him the chance and throw him towards a nearby rock formation as hard as you can.

He can only flail around like a rag doll as he flies through the air and lands on the rock formation with a satisfying crash, sending debris and sand flying in all directions.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough to keep him down as he’s quickly back on his feet. He reaches into his utility belt and throws a batarang at you and you respond by creating a similar object out of mold and send it flying towards it, the two of them hitting each other and falling to the ground.

Of course, he’s quick to act and before you can see it, he’s thrown something at you and you’re trapped in some kind of cable.

“What the hell,” you exclaim as you try to break free of the wire, but find yourself unable to.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says as he closes the gap between the two of you. “But you’re coming home and I’m gonna find a way to get rid of this thing inside you.”

You’re already pissed, but the way he says something so batshit crazy with a tone similar to one that you’d use to calm a startled animal enrages you even more.

How he can still be so determined to drag you back to Gotham when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate him and his family after everything they’ve done to you is nothing short of astounding.

(He seeks to separate us,) the Megamycete practically hisses. (Do not let him! Kill him, Y/N! Kill him!)

Your rage towards the man before you explodes like a blast furnace and you reduce your body to a murder of crows and fly towards Bruce at top speed.

He raises his arms to protect his face and you use your mold hardened beaks and talons to slice into his suit, leaving at least two dozen bloody cuts all over his body.

(Good! Hurt him even more! Bleed him dry!)

Your murder of crows fly around him, forcing him into a defensive posture, and you gather them all so you can reform into your armored form right behind him. He realizes what’s happened, but he can only turn around to face you when you grab his wrist as hard as you can, and wave him around in the air and slam him into the rock below you over and over, taking pleasure in the sounds of rock breaking with every hit.

It’s then you slam him into the rock and summon a mold sword. When he looks up at you and realizes what’s about to happen, he raises his hand just in time for your sword to go through his hand and the tip of your sword pierce the hardened Bat symbol on his chest; you know the symbol is the strongest part of his suit so it can protect whatever he has beating in his chest, but you’re determined, so it begins to crack and crumble as you drive the sword deeper in.

He tries to say something, but the damage you’ve done to him takes its toll as he can only gurgle something as blood begins to seep from the corner of his mouth.

You dismiss your helm as you lean down towards him, a vicious, bloodthirsty grin etched across your face, and the sword goes down just a little more.

“Let’s get rid of this, shall we,” you mock, grabbing his cowl, ignoring the shock the suit gives you in response. “I want to see the life fade from your eyes!”

And with that declaration, you rip the cowl off him, exposing his face, marred with bloody cuts and bruises, before you.

When you look into his eyes, you can see past the look of struggle is fear and terror.

(He knows this is the end! Finish him! Put an end to the Bat!)

“Goodbye, Mister Wayne!”

Just then, you see something fly past you and it’s then you realize the arm holding your sword has been sliced through. Bruce takes advantage of the situation and kicks you a few feet away from him and he backflips so he can put even more distance between the two of you.

You quickly collect yourself to see the source of the disruption: Dick and Cass, donned in their vigilante gear.

“You ok, B,” Dick asks as Bruce joins them.

“I’m fine,” he grunts out. “What are you doing here?”

“Alfred told us you were coming here and we knew something like this was going to happen. We all wanted to come, but we knew we couldn’t all leave Gotham, so we drew straws.”

The way he sounds so joyful pisses you off even more. How dare he! You were so close to putting an end to him and Dick had to come and ruin it!

(You should rip his limbs off! Strip him of his wings and cast him into the dam!)

Cass looks at you and you instantly know she’s analyzing you, determining possible strengths and weaknesses. When she sees that you’re missing a limb, her eyes widen.

“Oh,” Dick exclaims when he follows her gaze. “I’m so sorry, baby bird! I didn’t mean to do that! I just wanted to get you off of Bruce!”

You look down to find the severed appendage lying near your foot and go to pick it pick it up. While Dick is spouting endless apologies and pleas for you to stay calm, you merely place the limb where it once was and it begins to stitch itself back together. Once your arm is reattached, you fix your gaze back to them to find that they’re starring at you in shock at what just happened.

“Oh,” Dick manages to spit out after a few seconds of silence.

“This is between me and him,” you say as you take a few steps towards them. “Fuck off.”

“You need to stop this, baby bird,” Dick retorts. “We’re family, you shouldn’t be doing this!”

“You’re kidding, right,” you say with a mocking chuckle. “You people are constantly fighting with one another! If you’re not giving each other black eyes, you’re either breaking bones or slitting throats! You’re all a bunch of emotionally constipated psychopaths who belong in padded cells with the rest of Arkham’s lunatics! And I want nothing to do with any of you! So, for the last time, leave me the fuck alone!”

The only answer you get is the three of them getting into combat postures, indicating they’re ready to go on the attack.

“I give you the chance to walk away, and this is the thanks I get,” you sigh.

From the bottom of your feet, you command two mold tendrils to burrow into the sand below and snake their way over to them and once in place, you order them to burst out from beneath them; such a tactic would spell the end for normal people, but the Waynes are anything but normal, so they somehow knew you were up to something and scatter just as the tendrils emerge.

Still, you put them on the defense by ordering the tendrils to lash out at them, separating them from one another and forcing them to put all their focus on the tendrils while Bruce and Dick are dodging the lashing tendrils, you make your way to the nearest vigilante: Cass.

Just as you near her, she turns around and counters the slash of your mold sword with a blade of her own. You quickly realize that the few dozen people that possess any type of sword fighting prowess pale in comparison to Cass’ and decide to swap to hand-to-hand combat by punching her in gut when your blades were clashed together, sending her flying several feet.

She quickly recovers by the time you close the gap and she not only evades most of your punches, but she manages to give you a few.

What the hell, she shouldn’t be winning.

(Her fighting style is more advanced than anything we possess in our archives,) the Megamycete responds, sounding shameful. (We are unable to find a successful counter to her assault.)

Of course, it makes sense now! While Gotham may have attracted a few dozen experts in fighting over the centuries, Bruce has been trained by masters in every form of combat, including Ra’s Al Ghul, whose lifespan makes the Megamycete seem infantile in comparison. And he’s no doubt taught all of them his fighting style.

Just then, you feel something hit your back and explode, sending you flying. When you recover, you see Bruce and Dick have cut your tendrils and are now heading towards Cass to reinforce her.

(Their armories also seem to be more than we can handle,) it says as it repairs the damage done to your armor. (We have hardened your armor as much as we can, but it seems their tools will be able to penetrate our defenses.)

Shit, so that leaves you vulnerable to their fighting styles and their gadgets.

“Alright,” you mutter to yourself as you ready yourself. “We’ll just have to rely on the one thing none of them have ever had: powers.”

You repeat what you had done before and disperse your body into a murder of crows and send them flying around the Bats, causing them to huddle together and raise their arms in an attempt to protect themselves. You have enough crows continue to fly around them to keep them distracted while the rest of them form together to form your body, but with the addition of four, oversized spider-like legs extruding from your back.

You allow yourself to fall to the ground, the legs pointed down to form four very sharp stabbing implements. They look up just in time to see what’s about to happen, so they force their way through the swarm just as you land where they once stood. The remaining crows reintegrate into your body as you make your way towards them, jabbing your spider limbs in an attempt to stab any of them.

Dick and Cass have narrow frames, so they’re harder to hit, but Bruce’s more bulkier body makes him a more feasible target, so you shift your focus to him. After a few failed slashes, you manage to land a decent hit that causes him to fail onto his back. He tries to reach for his utility belt, but you use two of your limbs to pierce his shoulders and he lets out a pained yell s he struggles in vain to free himself from beneath you.

He looks up at you, a painful expression etched on his face, while you summon two small tendrils from your back, ready to deal the final blow.

“If I can’t rip out your non-existent heart, I’ll just have to settle for your head!”

But, just as you’re about to make good on your declaration, you feel something attach itself onto your back, throwing you off balance.

“Y/N, don’t,” a voice says from behind and it’s then you realize it’s not something on your back, but someone.

Specifically, Dick.

“Get off me, circus freak,” you snarl as you begin to struggle with him.

Deeming Dick the bigger threat, you shift your focus from Bruce to shaking off the acrobat any way you can, flailing around and reaching out to grab him so you can finally finish him off; while you want to kill Bruce more than anything right now, you want him to suffer before you shed his blood.

Making him watch as you rip his golden child’s head off while he’s powerless to stop it? Yes, that’ll do the trick.

It’s then you feel something at your spider feet and when you manage to look down while holding Dick at bay to see Cass, batarang in hand, cutting the feet pinning Bruce to the desert floor in an attempt to free him.

(She attempts to free the bastard,) the Megamycete hisses. (Kill her! Kill her now!)

But in typical fashion, Dick butts in where he’s not wanted and hurls himself towards you, latching onto your upper body, forcing you to brace your back spider legs to prevent you from tumbling down.

You watch in pure frustration as Cass slices off the parts of your legs pinning Bruce down and before you can react, the two of them hurl themselves onto you, joining Dick in trying to wrestle you to the ground.

You grab Dick with one hand and Cass with the other and just as you ready to summon a tendril to deal with Bruce and stabs you with some type of syringe, making you howl in pain at the sensation; instead of injecting you with something, you feel your blood being drained from you.

“Enough,” you hiss, hurling the two smaller vigilantes as far as you can before grabbing Bruce by both his shoulders and pulling him up so that the two of you are eye-to-eye.

It’s at this point your rage reaches its apex; this was suppose to be a night of fun out on the Strip, but the man before you not only had to ruin it by showing up, but now he’s come full circle on his batshit craziness by blasting you out of the sky and try to apprehend you like you’re one of the crazies from Arkham.

And to make matters worse, he had to bring two of his children, Dick being one of them! While you will always hate Bruce with every fiber of your being and Damian being an extremely close second, you’ve always had a strong resentment towards the eldest Wayne son. While the bastard will always say he loves all his children equally (minus you, of course), you know Dick will always be number one in Bruce’s heart due to him being the first child and being a capable Gotham socialite and vigilante.

And to add insult to injury, everyone always says Dick is everything an eldest brother should be: reliable, responsible, and doting. For years, you could nothing but cry as you saw him going out of his way to help and hang out with the other Wayne children, no matter how loudly they tried to reject it. Watching such the love and affection you craved be handed out so willingly and carefree to anyone but you made you think you would never be loved by anyone other than your deceased Momma.

You let out an inhuman howl in Bruce’s face as you shove your head into his right shoulder and latch onto it with your teeth with enough force to rival a hydraulic press. He lets out a pained yell and attempts to pull you off by your hair, but you apply more force until you eventually pierce through the armor, followed by the skin, then the muscle, and finally bone.

You pull your head back, bits of bone and flesh dangling from your teeth. You look to see his right arm practically dangling from just the barest of flesh and blood oozing from it like a waterfall. You shift your gaze from your handiwork to Bruce’s face to see the most delicious expression of pain etched on it and his complexion is pale and clammy.

At this point, you’re a crazed animal, chomping at the bit to go in for the kill on the wounded prey before you and rip it apart until it’s unrecognizable.

(Yes,) the Megamycete roars, its voice a symphony of bloodthirsty cheers. (Do it! Exact your vengeance upon him!)

Before you do anything, you feel something hit your back and explode, but unlike the first one, this one sends some sort of freezing gases scattering across your body, sending feelings of burning as your armor and spider legs rapidly freeze.

You howl in pain as you drop Bruce so you can slap at the affected areas, trying to find some way to relieve yourself of the freezing feeling.

(Hurts,) the Megamycete hisses. (Hurts!)

You rid yourself of your armor and spider legs by ripping it off your body, the frozen mold constructs shattering upon impact with the ground.

It’s then you realize you’re exposed and quickly turn around, ready to defend yourself when you see the three of them flying away on the Batwing at top speed. You could go after them, but after the fight with the Bats and their freezing grenade, you can only fall to your knees, trying to catch your breath.

(We had no idea we possessed such a vulnerability to the cold,) the Megamycete says, its voice sounding weak. (The winters of Gotham drove us to a state of near hibernation, but this is the first time we have ever had a reaction like that.)

“And now you know,” you manage to gasp out. “And so do they.”

You can only watch as the vehicle flies away as fast as it can, carrying three of the Bats away where they will no doubt share what’s happened here with the others, which will no doubt lead to even more encounters like this in the future.

“Shit.”

In the Batwing, Bruce knows Dick is talking to hi, his words quick and high pitched as he tries to dress his wound, but right now, he can’t bring himself to take his focus off the syringe filled with your blood.

When he set out for Vegas, he was determined to find a way to provoke you into showing him your powers and obtain a blood sample so he could perform more tests, but he didn’t think he’d discover a major weakness in your defenses.

While he hated to see the cryo grenade caused you so much pain, he can’t help but rejoice at the knowledge that there’s a crack in your armor and if he approaches it at the right angle, he can have you home far sooner than he anticipated.

And when you’re back home, he can find a way to get that damn thing out of you and return you to normal. And when that’s done, he can begin to make things right with you.

He grips the syringe harder, seeing the key to making his daily whole once again within your blood.

Tag List: @lunaluz432 @type-ink @bat1212 @eyeless-kun @deathbynarcisstick @orbitingtraveler @1s3v3n1 @nosyrobin @roseytheteacup @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @bellethesleepypotato @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @exactlynumberonekryptonite @paolexsstuff @fantasyhopperhea @c0l1fl0r @ellaprime7 @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @ratchetprime211 @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @bunbunbread @starsdotalk @luna57765 @solelifauna @jsprien213 @diejager @lizz-lrm @v0idl1nq @chericia @wizzerreblogs @tinybrie @lilyalone @thickasthievingtoads @creativechaosx @randomlyappearingartist @ferchu0406 @kik1010 @butterflycardigann @1-800-crazy

#from gold to mold #yandere batfamily #male reader #batfamily #batfamily x male reader #batman #dc x male reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere dc #yandere barbara gordon #yandere cassandra cain #yandere damian wayne #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere stephanie brown

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lananiscorner · 17 hours ago

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Can't speak for anybody else, but depending on where you went to school and who your teachers were, I'm afraid paying attention and giving a damn is only half the battle.

Personally (went to school in the 90s and 00s before AI was a thing), I had so. very. many. teachers. who just utterly FAILED at making us understand WHY and HOW the things they were teaching us were going to be important later. It was really more of a "this is on the curriculum, and it's my subject which is always awesome, how can you not see this is awesome and enjoy it just for its own sake?" vibes. And yeah, unless the student you are teaching is into the thing you are teaching, you are not going to get them to pay attention like that.

My most abysmal subject in school was history, primarily because most of my history teachers thought learning about history was inherently FUN and "why can't you guys see this is FUN? How are you not seeing the FUN in this? What's wrong with y'all? How do you not ENJOY learning all those dates and watching timeline grow long?" Meanwhile, me and most of the class were sitting there like "I will never be able to memorize all these dates and everyone involved has been dead for hundreds of years, society has marched on, why should I care?" All I can say is BLESS the two or three GOOD history teachers I had who actually made the jump to go "okay, so forget the dates for a moment, focus on the how and why and let's see how this is still relevant TODAY". If it hadn't been for those two/three teachers, I would have remembered fuck all and I would be entirely unprepared for the historical fuckery that is happening RIGHT NOW.

The same applied to German and English class (I am German, had English as a second language since grade 3). Our English classes were almost entirely about learning the rules of the language and basic geography/history of major English-speaking countries. Our German classes were almost entirely learning the rules of our own language and our Cultural Heritage™ and also, here are the most famous writers (almost all of whom were white, middle-aged upper class men who died hundreds of years ago and whose lived experience was so far removed from that of a teenager in the 90s/00s, it might as well have happened in a different dimension) and we gotta analyze why THEY were brilliant why THEIR WRITING was brilliant.

Like, I WISH we had actually taken apart some newspaper articles/podcasts and analyzed them for how to identify the proper information and spot misinformation/propaganda. I WISH our teachers had succeeded in demonstrating to us why we should care about media analysis, other than wanking about guys who wrote something decent 300 years ago, but most of them really didn't.

Then there is the cascading failure of teachers in later years assuming that you already learned to do something years ago, so clearly they don't need to teach you. They don't even need to ask if you know. Of course not.

I still remember vividly the one history teacher we had who gave us an assignment to make presentations on some very specific local Jewish businesses and institutions that were sacked during the 1930s. Most of us had utterly abysmal grades on that one, not because we didn't care about the subject, but because it was highly local history, so good luck finding anything about it in the local library or on the internet, both of which tended to take a "top to bottom" approach of there being lots of information on global or national events, but very little on local events.

Our teacher gave all of us mediocre grades (deserved, because our presentations were mediocre at best) and then went on to complain how disappointed she was that none of us seemed to have done any research in the city archives, to which almost every single one of us responded with: "wait, there are publicly accessible city archives that we can access for this kind of information? Even as underaged students?"

She had the GALL to be surprised by our reaction, and to complain about how we should know about this already... and then she didn't even bother to teach us how we would go about accessing this kind of information! She saw a leak, and instead of teaching us how to plug it, she just complained about the leak and moved on.

You know, this would have been a nice chance for a field trip? Take the class down to city hall? Let the archiving clerks explain to us how information is stored and sorted and what we can access and what not? I don't know what this woman was expecting from us, honestly, because if "archive research" had been on any of our history curricula before, our teachers clearly hadn't bothered with it, and we were students living in former soviet territories--our parents grew up in a communist dictatorship where asking the wrong questions landed you in prison getting interrogated and tortured. Just how nosy/curious exactly did this HISTORY teacher who clearly should have known about the HISTORICAL background of our area think we were going to be, and how did she not even THINK to ask us "so this next task is about highly local stuff--do all of y'all know what the city archives are and how to access them?"

Like, I'm not saying that none of this failure to do research and accurately interpret and formulate texts is down to student laziness, especially in the face of AI. All I'm saying is, the cards are already pretty stacked against a lot of kids to begin with.

I cannot stress the importance of paying attention in language classes in high school. Maybe the reason why your English teacher taught you about unreliable narrators is because a lot of the media around you is written by unreliable narrators posing as reliable. Maybe they gave you assignments on interpreting texts so you could draw your own conclusions about news articles. Some of you clearly thought English classes were useless in high school and now are unable to engage critically with media.

#school #media analysis #English class #German class #history class #I'm sure many students have trouble with media literacy because AI has made us all way too lazy #but having teachers who failed to teach us properly did not help

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djarins-cyare · 19 hours ago

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I thought it would be harder to pick and then I saw "Be-All And Endor pegging bonus scene" and anyway here I am. 😍

Ahaha, I hoped someone would ask about this one from my WIP folder! 🧡💚

This is set several months after the main story ends. My plan was – and still is (eventually) – to write some random scenes from Din and Reader’s future in lieu of a sequel.

Several readers commented they would’ve liked to have read the scene in the final chapter where Reader tells Din to go shower and meet her in their cabin to cross off another item on their “things that’ll happen eventually” list, which suggests some type of ass play for Din, based on an earlier comment in chapter 37 where he indicates he’d be interested in trying it.

As usual, the smut slowed me down when I started drafting it. Honestly, I don’t think I know enough about pegging to adequately describe it, so I put it on the back burner until I could do sufficient research.

That said, when I got your ask, I went back and checked how much I had already written, and I realised I actually have a decent-length scene leading up to the smut… it just fades to black (again) when they’re about to start.

So, Kate, since it’s you and you definitely deserve a reward for all your cheerleading of Be-All (for which I’m forever grateful), I’ve decided to give you not just a snippet but the whole of the 1k+ word scene that I’ve got so far. I’m not posting it on AO3 yet – I’ll do that later once I’ve written the second half of it and converted the AO3 version into a series – so for now, please enjoy this Tumblr exclusive bonus content!

��️ Please note the following contains heavy spoilers for anyone who hasn’t read the original story!

Be-All And Endor Bonus Chapter (excerpt): The Solace

Rating: Mature (18+) Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Word count: 1,150 Tags/warnings: References to sex, anal play, pegging (nothing explicit); brief reference to a past attempted SA; the dildo is referred to as a cock; some swearing and explicit language; one (1) Mando’a insult

You find the toy tucked away in the back of your drawer, hidden from prying eyes for weeks. Even though Din knows you acquired it before leaving Glavis, you’d insisted on keeping it a surprise until you could finally try it out.

But things had got in the way.

His painful Darksaber injury, worse than Nantoogen’s concussive blaster bolt on Endor. His discovery of that mythosaur marker in Kolzoc Alley, faded and ominous. His bitter disappointment at reaching the lowest level of the substrata and finding it empty. The thrill of uncovering hastily painted coordinates that revealed his tribe’s new location.

Just like that, your fun and games were on hold.

In the weeks since, everything that’s happened has overwhelmed you both – physically and emotionally – for better and for worse. The covert, the recognition of your union, your shiny new helmet… Din’s exile.

The Armorer’s final words and your defiant retort still ring tragically in your ears almost a day later, as if your helmet has trapped them there:

“You have not yet sworn the Creed; therefore, you are not an apostate. You may stay.”

“But I have sworn riduurok to Din Djarin and the gai bal manda to Grogu; therefore, I am a wife and mother. I am loyal to my clan and could never abandon them for a tribe that exiles one of its own despite his wish to atone. You taught me that loyalty and solidarity are the Way, and I will honour that. So, I thank you for your offer, but nariti lo’shebs’ul.”

You can still feel the sting of tears on your cheeks, still see Din’s dejected body stiffen as you told his alor to shove her offer up her ass. Amid the grief, you sensed a spike of shock – even pride – flicker within him for a fleeting moment.

Now back in hyperspace’s safe and superluminal embrace, you both need the relief of the release you’re about to partake in. But he needs it more.

He still hasn’t really talked. Not properly – not like you know he can. He’s been barely responsive, stiff, twitchy, and every subtle quiver speaks of his deep turmoil. Apostate. It’s an awful label. His inner storm has been yours to share through your connection, but you’ve resisted. You saw his need for solitude on Anantapar, so you’d granted him several hours alone in the cockpit – helmet on.

After several failed check-ins for food and comfort, it was to this suggestion alone that Din had responded. Once you’d assured him that Grogu was asleep in his cubicle, he’d immediately risen from his chair, awaiting instructions. You’d told him to shower and to meet you in the cabin without his helmet, where you’d unveil your purchase from Glavis.

Now, with a determined breath, you face the final hurdle: figuring out how to attach the damn thing.

You’d liked the look of the ‘strapless’ versions, but the vendor had advised that a strap would be best. More stability and a better experience for your husband, she’d insisted. Fewer distractions for you while it’s his turn, she’d winked. Fair point. You’re not sure you could concentrate solely on his pleasure with something nestled inside your pussy, rubbing your G-spot to distraction.

It takes a few minutes of fiddling, but you successfully secure the harness. It’s actually more comfortable than it looks.

You turn back to the drawer and run your fingers along the dildo’s length, marvelling at the silky texture. It cost a kriffing fortune, so it’d better be worth the credits. A snort escapes you at the thought that Nantoogen’s bounty reward paid for this. It’s almost poetic that the man who tried to sexually assault you has now purchased you your very own cock.

Once it’s nestled securely within the harness, you spend several minutes pacing around the cabin, watching it bob along in front of you. Kriff, you’re oscillating between nervous, curious, and aroused. It makes you feel… powerful.

You and Din have an established sexual dynamic, though, and he’s always in control, even when he’s seemingly not. He has also previously rejected the idea of using toys in the bedroom, fully confident that (for you, at least) he can do better with his own dick. But as much as he’s enjoyed taking your fingers in his ass on occasion, he’d eventually agreed that something more substantial would guarantee him a more gratifying time.

Given his general dislike of sex aids, you’d asked the vendor for a realistic dildo to match your skin tone, especially since you know he’s been attracted to men in the past. Hopefully, this will help him feel less like he’s having something plastic shoved up him and more like he’s enjoying someone’s body.

With the trusty Tatooine lube at the ready on the nightstand, you strip off everything but your bra and your new appendage, then perch on the edge of the bed and wait.

You’re so accustomed to every rattle on the Crest by now that even his bare feet can’t hide his ascent up the ladder, and your pulse quickens in readiness. You stand, wanting to present him with the full spectacle upon entry to the cabin.

Din steps through the door as it slides open, but he stops dead the second he catches sight of you. His uncovered gaze plummets straight down to your cock, eyes widening in surprise, brows rising in tandem with a sharp inhale.

He swallows, staring… staring…

You gulp, hoping… hoping…

And then you see it – the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. It’s nothing compared to the wide grin you’re used to seeing on your husband’s face, but you reach out with your mind, trying to decipher that almost-smile. There’s still a heavy soup of grief, but there’s more now, too. Intrigue, anticipation… a hint of excitement. Sexual excitement.

“Do you like it?” you venture, gently steering him toward those positive feelings.

He swallows again and nods, still staring. “It looks… real.” Taking a careful step forward, he comes within touching distance yet still only uses his eyes. “I like how real it looks.”

A rush of relief pulses through you. Those credits were well spent.

With a grin, you comment, “Well, it doesn’t have balls, but I don’t need those to fuck you. My metaphorical ones are big enough.”

Din’s eyes finally rise to meet yours as he steps even closer, the smirk on his lips now more obvious, and you catch another spike of his pride over how you handled your exit from the covert. “I fucking love you,” he declares, pressing a hard, grateful kiss to your lips before pulling back abruptly. “Where do you want me?”

“On your knees, on the bed,” you command, knowing full well that this is an illusion of power he’s giving you. “I wanna see that tight little ass in the air.”

His smirk grows. “Yes, Sir.”

Mando’a translations, in case they aren’t obvious:

riduurok [REE-doo-rok] – marriage agreement

gai bal manda [guy bal MAN-dah] – adoption ceremony (lit. “name and soul”)

nariti lo’shebs’ul [nah-REE-tee loh-SHEBS-ool] – shove it up your ass

Notes:

“Trusty Tatooine lube” is a reference to the scene in the final chapter that I mentioned above – Reader picked some up before they left, which is why she suggested that particular activity as soon as they’d left the planet.

In case anyone’s forgotten, Din tells Reader in chapter 30 (after their shower sex) that whatever sex aids she used before he came along have no place in their relationship, indicating his general dislike of sex toys. I don’t think he’s a prude, but this version of Din has a preconceived notion that he needs to be the best lover he can be without any ‘cheating’. Reader could easily talk him into using toys on her, of course, simply by educating him a little better – just as she’s done regarding other things he’s been somewhat naive about. But here, she decides to respect his prior avoidance and give him an experience that feels as ‘real’ as possible. Perhaps this will help him realise that toys might be fun for her, too!

Reader also refers to having “seen his need for solitude on Anantapar”, which, as a reminder, refers to when he had a teensy bit of an emotional breakdown at the tail end of their honeymoon in chapter 38.

I adapted the lovely insulting Mando’a phrase from a previously existing phrase in Karen Travis’s novel ‘Order 66’ – Kovid lo’shebs’ul narit – which is supposed to mean ‘shove your head up your ass’, but the grammar is a little off. So I put the verb in the correct place and properly conjugated it, then removed the word for ‘head’ (it doesn’t need an object as she’s just said the word “offer”, so it’s clear what she’s talking about).

Holy crap, I’m scared now I’ve put this up. This is the first new Be-All content since July 2023! 😭 Fun timing, though, because I have another two Be-All bonus posts coming out in the next few days as the fic is about to hit a milestone, so stay tuned!

Permanent tag list lovelies:

@bergamote-catsandbooks @chiyo13 @cw80831 @finalgirl-96 @harriedandharassed

@howhighwepose @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @lilac-boo @lucienofthelakes

@pigeonmama @punkygreeny @roughdaysandart @sadisticheskiy @samarys

@syd-djarin @wrathkitty

Please feel free to JOIN MY TAG LIST

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animationvsfan · 6 months ago

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THE ONE... (Animators Vs Games)

WHO is this guy?!?!?

The AvM/AvA community was wondering about a month ago. Yeah... I'm pretty late to this as you can see, I had some stuff to do but I have been wanting to post about this for a bit, so here we go!

This guy has been nicknamed "The one" by the animation vs animator fandom. (Yes.. the spacing is on purpose xD) This is because he looks like a knockoff of TCO, which is pretty funny to be honest. He has generated lots of fan art, and even ships? (We'll talk about this later)

I see this guy of a placeholder, kind of. Basically sometimes he appears in the AvG thumbnails as a representation of the game. BUT there is this one instance when he is FLYING IN THE AIR WITH FLAMES which might actually be him cosplaying as TCO. We don't know. This guy is very mysterious

For example, here's a stick figure from a thumbnail where they played omori, it's probably just Sunny in a stick figure form, but we don't know, it might be THE ONE (still probably not but maybe they hired him or something for this thumbnail, we don't know)

And here's something of him getting shocked from a stream thumbnail.. oof

AND HERE'S SOMETHING STATING THAT HE IS MYSTEERRIOUSS

Who's that stick figure? It's THE ONE

But wait.. We have another mysterious stick figure, a white stick figure called The [Selected]. This stick figure is from the undertale series!

And for some reason, the two mystery stick figures get SHIPPED!??!!? Huh- I understand your craving for new material, but seriously, can't they just be buddies? XD. I actually don't mind though, don't worry to those who do. I have nothing against you all.

Let me know your thoughts about these guys!

All credits for images go to Animators Vs Games!!!

I AM JUST A FAN!!!!! Go follow them on YouTube not me XD

-Tumblr user animationvsfan, signing off

#ava the one #Ava the one #the one #avg #animators vs games #animation vs animator #animation vs minecraft #ava the selected #ava tco #too ava #Mysterious #I spent too much time on these things.. Buh #I wish I could start writing my stories #but I like researching for things like this its fun

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foxprints · 1 year ago

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Self indulgent drawing of Murderbot <3 It and ART are cruising through space, just the two of them, and Murderbot is relaxed and comfortable. ART has more than a few feelings about this and saves an image to its archive -- unfortunately Murderbot is aware of ART watching it and it flips off one of the drones.

(it doesn't dislike the attention ART is giving it... it just makes it a bit flustered!)

See some bonus images (including ones without text) below the cut, along with an explanation of some of the design choices!

I am 100% in the camp of Murderbot having a much more expressive face than it realizes, especially when it's alone and/or comfortable.

All text in the images with a color block behind it is essentially metadata that ART has attached to any tag it makes for Murderbot.

The blue inorganics are purely because @hazelek found a post with early 2000s vibrant, semi-transparent tech and we were joking around about MB getting aesthetic upgrades lmao.

About half the tags in the last image are courtesy of @scificrows alkdjfl;kj thank you dearly for those additions!

#⨀#fanart #murderbot diaries #the murderbot diaries #murderbot #tmd #secunit #mb+a #art (asshole research transport)#i've never been more proud of an expression in my life aldkfj;l #this entire thing started because of the fic i wrote where ART makes a note of MB's long legs #cause then i felt the need to draw MB with leggy legs... all comfortable and sprawling because MB deserves to be relaxed and comfortable #and then i got frustrated with drawing clothing and folds and said fuck it why does it need to be wearing clothes? its just it and ART!#plus i like its design and its fun to draw #anyway this was great fun to draw and i really like the end results

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urautismdiagnosis · 1 day ago

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Jdjsbdbd thank you alao I wanna clarify that I dont mean that catscan ONLY eat meat, but rather that if they don't have meat in their diet they WILL die because not only is their required protein intake MUCH higher than other animals but they alao need certain minerals that u can't get from plant based sources

Also this isn't me being smart, its just me being hyperfixated while having access to Google for research i don't even know my times tables bro💀🙏 I've made so much octonauts lore,yall I made octonauts oppression, colonialization and racism (specism) 🥲 idk how much of it is projection and how much of it is hyperfixation but likes its been living rent free and then some in my brain

Like the specism and then like hate based on countries are totally seperate societal issues and can impact eachother based on the location too

I'm planning on drawing some like charts and visuals for a larger post about it, cuz while its not a thing that comes up often in my au its definitely sprinkled thru and a part of their lives just like irl racism is

🧍‍♀️ I'm sorry guys I dont know why my first instinct was to make this but honestly this just happens for like every hyperfication I've ever had

Like I've got historical movements, stereotypes, micro aggression, and how there's different types of specism and how they came to be.... :| or even how they can differ by areas

So uh, if u or anyone wants to ask me about them or ask about specific species and etc uhhhhh go ahead ig? I just really really like analogies of real world issues through analogies in fantastical/unrealistic settings and how those fantastical factors would actually affect the realistic factors 🥲🥺

Also most animals are carnivorous cuz its be so much harder to survive otherwise

This includes hoived animals too btw,yall ever see a deer eating a living bird? Cuz I have,also they commonly chew on bones and etc for the minerals but thats just a fun fact

Pokes u

Do you have Barnacles Headcanons to share with his wife (aka me)

YES also sorry for the late response lol uhhh this is mostly just stuff from my au lol and its got different world building than the show does

Ok first off some context, in my au the reasons for PEOPLE species to have different traits is more based on environmental factors and conflicts between other groups of people. 👌

There are definitely some wild species that aren't even intelligent enough to have nearly any sapience (in simple terms its self awareness) that would probably end up being food or wtv, but like going based off of irl stuff polar bears mostly need high fat diets and unless there are a TON extra of high fat food fish thatd make the arctic pretty hard to survive

Unless ofc 👀 well they are PEOPLE people so u can convince me they'd have somehow domesticated either musk or (hoofed arctic animal) or bred some other kind of milk producing animal as a source of food

All I'm saying is that he could and would and has eaten an entire wheel of cheese before

And he absolutely has a secret stash of high fat snacks because I think he might be a liiiiittttle bit self conscious about it

Because he realized that arctic animals and non arctic animals have HUGE differences in social norms and apparently most animals don't have at least 3 inches of fat minimum on their entire body???

And its not cuz hes embarrassed of the fat, its normal and healthy, he just doesn't want to go from Trustworthy and Reliable Captain of thr Octonauts to "oh my god i need like an entire cheesecake rn to feel normal" in front of everyone cuz like 😭 he is a bit of a comfort eater. Like ah yes our strong and level headed captain is eating an entire box of oreos at 2 am because he misses his sister again 😭

Ofc the others do find out but there isn't any judgement if anything kwazii would probably join him, bro has a history of having weird food habits (hm wonder why... surely nothing related to being shipwrecked on an island and having to survive) and its nice

He does like, have THE best snacks tho and he might be hoarding them just a tiny bit-

he also can feel a bit worried about coming off as too large or intimidating so thats why he's always got his hands on his hips- and his head lowered down a bit

its not that he seems like physically scary but a larger presence can be intimidating for a lot of people

Teeth and claws aren't usually seen as intimidating in most scenarios in this world because its so common and is just like a feature of the species the same way hearing or smell can be btw

so yeah someone threatening to scratch ya can be scary but so can someone being able to find you because they can hear ur heartbeat 💀🙏

Back to the main point, like all the other octonauts aren't even like medium sized animals (like wolves and whatever), there ALL very small species. So hes like way in the upper range, the highest and tallest possible species while everyone else are all smaller ones specifically

So if barnacles is Actually Mad (💀 the scenario to make him genuinely mad has to be BAD) then he will go to his FULL HEIGHT

Cuz irl polar bears got very tall strong necks and etc so I think him standing at Full Serious Height would be very startling

Also about polar bears sense of smell!

Circling back to the adaptations being related to survival pressures and social ones

Polar bears in this world, use their sense of smell for something very important in the arctic: navigation, above and below water

It prevents things like getting lost in the wintery white world, which is so so easy for others. It can help find others than might be lost, and it can tell u if they r injured or not and I think thats precious

there is one problem tho, while their sense of smell is VERY strong, stronger than bloodhounds and etc, its made for being able to detect things very far away in freezing temperatures... so they're extremely sensitive

Which wouldn't be that much of an issue if barnacles wasn't in all sorts of more tropical environments...

In thr artic all u can smell is other people, animals, and which was is home

But if he's not in the octopod or under the water,but somewhere where there's THOUSANDS of insects,hundreds of pollinating plants, and tons and tons of different creatures all at once-

I think thats be overwhelming and he's probably be allergic to sooooooo many plants poor guy 🥺

Also even tho he like trims and thins out his thick coat, and even has a little cooling pack vest sort of thing under his uniform he can still overheat pretty easily

Cuz yk, the several inches of brown fat or blubber? Someone might say "hey just adjust ur diet and whatever to lose it" but that would be VERY UNHEALTHY for him... mess with the balance of his bodys systems yk? so its really not an option;^;

So yeah he still tends to overheat and thats why having his room canoncially set to actual arctic temperatures every night helps him sleep better and feel better

Usually alot of octonauts missions happen under water or in gups or maybe they'll spend some time on an island and it'll be hot

But with extended time spent in warmer climates he has to take alot more breaks and it can be alot harder for him

Also I think that he had a period in his early 20s college years where he was like kinda lowkey depressed because he was learning more about global warming and capitalism

, it didn't last too long fortunately because yk he met professor inkling who was already developing his idea for the octonauts

and they actuslly became really good friends and it really came together as a realistic thing when tweak got wind of em

On a more depressing note global warming for polar bears in a world where they're actual people with a unique culture and heritage means some totally different stuff

Like its not even the fact they can't even engage in their own cultural traditions (cough traveling in that one arctic global warming special where they were all exhausted cuz all the melted sea ice cough)

Its also the loss of genuine homes (in my au they're kinda like ice hobbit houses 🥰since polar bears irl will dig out shallow resting spots or mama bears will have dens with a toasty 30 degrees farenheit), architectural collapses, traditional jobs that can only be done in the arctic being lost, and being forced into more southern grounds because more and more just can't rely living there anymore

And I think that'd be super depressing to see in real time, its a cultural death

Heck even irl there's so many grizzlies going north and polar going south that they've actually started to mix and start having hybrids (grolar bears). And the thing is they're so genetically compatible that their species can actually develope into their own separate identity that might totally replace most if not all polar bears sense they're just more adapt to the changing climate and have more range,with benefits from both species

And while that sounds great on paper and makes sense and is obviously fine for them to have easier lives, I think in thr context of this world it would leave barnacles with some conflicted feelings

Because the thing is there used to be concerns about polar bears having to leave their homes to live is societies and communities that just... that their jobs wouldn't fit to. That would be physically harder for them to be healthy in. That they'd have to give up so many thousands of years of traditions thatd be impossible to carry over in.

Idk its late and I've got one braincell and idk if this makes sense and im sorry if it got depressing 😭

But yeah, so there's more and more of these younger people grolar bears, that just... will never have that full connection to their heritage. And idk I think its sad and maybe I'm projecting

Also I think that if barnacles was ever sad he'd just cope by playing the accordian lol,like the one meme of the girl playing "its a mental breakdown ✨" on a kazoo 😭

Let's end this on a happier note tho, circling back to barnacles being several feet taller than his entire crew, like-

We all already know this guy emotionally adopts every living being in sight

And well, his ENTIRE CREW literally, and I mean very literally and physically, looks up to him-

Like they all gotta turn their heads up and loon at him with big hopeful eyes ready for whatever he has to say

And im gonna be honest his composure is alot stronger than mine cux I would CRY because of how adorable that is

Like he knows its probably so unprofessional and might be seen as condescending BUT DAMN IT HE CANT HELP THR CUTENESS AGRESSION!!! HE WANTS TO SQUISH THEIR TINY FACES!!!

so sometimes hell have a very Serious and Leadership-like Captain Conversation, and then thr SECOND hes out of their sight (and hopefully hearing) HE JUST HAS TO STOP HIMSELF FROM JUST CRYING-

Cuz the second hes out of sight he will LOSE ALL COMPOSURE and need a minute because he loves them so much AND THEYRE SO FCKING SMALL-

Its kinda funny tho cuz ur captain barnacles is a pretty tiny guy, wonder howd that work for u XD

Anyways gn or whatever time it is for u 🐻‍❄️✨✨✨

Also he and Bianca call at least every week for an hour and frequently send eachother updates about what they're up to

He could talk to her about anything and she's good at talking sense into him

He makes sure that natquick gets plenty of social interaction too, that man is like his father figure

(Kinda sad but I headcanon barnacles dad died when he was really young cuz of an accident where ice collapsed, probably did not help how he felt when he got stuck in an icy hole as a kid 💀🙏)

ALSO

Barnacles looking up at u vvv

Barnaclea being his lil theater kid self^

Wait~ they don't love you ✨like I love you ✨🥰

Barnacles half awake at a late night mission when everything is done and they're just driving the gup a back home

Barnacles and Bianca on a video call

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vaguely-humanoid-form · 12 days ago

Text

maybe I haven't been looking at the sky

post-sonic 3 fic about stone. stobotnik too. oh yeah baby it's time for some pain.

word count is a bit under 3.6k

featuring: grief like so much grief, lots of hurt, a smidgen of comfort, second-person narration, so many goddamn timestamps, did I mention hurt, acknowledgement of shadow the hedgehog being like an actual teenager, shadow the hedgehog being kind of like a weird cat, the smallest hint of sonadow, and, of course, hurt.

have fun! >:3

p.s.: the title is from Maud Gone by Car Seat Headrest because I like that song and it fits too well

June 24, 2024, 3:26 AM

You wake up.

You don't immediately open your eyes, though, because if you stay in the darkness, you can pretend that everything is alright. You can pretend that nothing's changed.

You can pretend he's still here.

You open your eyes.

It's still dark, and you can only just barely make out the hotel room ceiling above you.

You can hear the soft pitter-patter of the London rain against the window.

You spare a glance at the clock on the bedside table.

You know you won't be able to fall asleep.

Four hours of rest is enough, anyway.

You get up.

You take a shower.

Your reflection in the mirror seems to bore holes through your skull.

You brush your teeth, and you get dressed.

You work, because you have nothing else to do.

You go to get shitty hotel coffee and breakfast.

On instinct, you grab two cups.

You decide you don't want coffee anymore.

June 24, 2024, 12:58 PM

Your lunch is tasteless, and not just because it's British.

You think you would've laughed at that only 24 hours ago.

You don't think about if he would've.

You don't have much to work on.

Your hands itch. Everything feels so still. So static.

You try not to think about it. You try to think about anything else.

You think about how cold it is for a summer day.

You think about the smell of rain on the sidewalk.

You don't look at the sky.

You count your steps to fill your mind with something, anything.

It takes you precisely 673 steps to get back to your hotel from the lunch spot.

You don't think about how odd it feels to walk so slowly.

You don't think about how lonely you are.

You don't think about the Crab sunk in the Thames.

You don't think about him.

June 24, 2024, 7:31 PM

It's been 24 hours since it happened.

You feel empty.

You feel empty and sweaty and gross despite the wind chill and you shower again.

Your reflection stares at you again. It accuses you, blames you. It says it's your fault.

In its eyes, you can almost see something like him.

You cover the mirror.

You get yourself ready for bed, and you lay there under the hotel duvet, air conditioner blasting, and you shiver, but you don't get up to change it.

The Doctor prefers it cold, so–

You stare at the ceiling. It looks blurrier than usual.

You don't fall asleep for another few hours.

June 30, 2024, 1:08 PM

Montana is certainly better than London. At least, you'd say so.

It was a good idea to keep paying the lease on the Mean Bean. It's something you know.

You can't decide whether the familiarity makes you feel better or worse.

At least G.U.N. doesn't want anything to do with you, which you are more than welcome to.

Your “house,” if it can even be called that, what with its studio apartment style, in the back of the Mean Bean feels foreign to you, but the warmth feels nice.

The café stays cold.

You say it's to save money on the heating bill.

You were always good at pretending.

July 23, 2024, 4:23 PM

It's been exactly one month.

The hedgehog visits you today.

You know you should be plotting against him. You should be planning your revenge. You should be scheming to get rid of him once and for all–

But you're just so tired.

And in the end, he didn't want what happened, either.

He smiles at you as he orders a hot chocolate, but you can see the tightness in his face.

You bring up the other hedgehog, Shadow, and he falters for a moment.

You don't smile, not really, but your face softens as you come to an understanding.

You can't talk about him, but listening to Sonic talk about Shadow helps to dull the pain for a moment.

Before he leaves, Sonic gives you a sad smile, and tells you he's sorry about the Doctor.

Your throat closes up.

You stand still as the door opens and closes.

Your hands are shaking as you close.

August 16, 2024, 1:15 PM

Ever since he visited you the first time, Sonic has come back every other day for a hot chocolate and a chat.

The kid seems to always have something to say. You suppose he's hyperactive in many ways.

He's nice to you, and a part of you hates it, but you can't get yourself to get rid of the kid. Even if he says he stops by to check on how you're doing, you know it's helpful for him, too.

Deep down, you feel guilty for commiserating with the enemy. The guilt is something you opt to push down, though, because it makes you think of him.

You're interrupted when Sonic walks through the door with his human quasi-father in tow. Tom, you think his name is.

If you're honest, he looks like shit. His arm is in a cast and he's walking with a slight limp. The bags under his eyes are nothing to scoff at, either, but he gives you a soft smile.

He only orders a water, and drinks it slowly as Sonic chatters at his side about the shop.

You know he's been worried about Tom, and you're glad to see he's alright, but a twinge of resentment bites at you.

Why couldn't have you gotten a happy ending, too?

August 27, 2024, 1:00 PM

He's back again, and he brought his friends: the fox and the echidna.

You freeze for a moment when you see the fox. The conversation you had with him plays in the back of your mind and you relentlessly shoo it away.

The echidna is still annoying, but it's funny to see him order a shot of espresso and then immediately choke when he takes one sip.

When you're not trying to fight each other, they're good kids. You appreciate the effort they're making, at the very least.

It's nice to have noise to fill up the air. Helps quiet the thoughts a little bit, especially when the shop doesn't get much traffic these days.

Chatting with the alien children gives you something to do, too, since you can't do latte art anymore.

Your hands start shaking the moment you try.

So, you listen to them talk: teasing each other, making bad jokes, ranting about this or that.

When they leave, they all say goodbye, and while the silence is still suffocating, you're finding it slightly easier to breathe.

September 10, 2024, 8:01 AM

It's his birthday today, and you can't get yourself out of bed.

You can't even properly cry. Quiet tears roll down your face and stain your pillow.

You can't get back to sleep, either. You don't know if you would even want to. You don't know if you could bear to see his face in your dreams.

You stare at the brick wall, bare of photos or posters or plans, and you can't get yourself to look away.

September 10, 2024, 1:30 PM

The door to your “house” opens and you jump from your bed.

Team Sonic broke into your house.

You would be angry. You should be angry. But you can't muster up the energy.

Sonic says something that you don't register, and Knuckles proudly holds out a messily-made cupcake in front of him.

When you get a closer look…

Oh.

It's for the Doctor.

When you look up, Sonic is giving you that same sad smile he did the first time he came to the cafe. He says he knows how you've been going through a hard time, and that since today is the Doctor’s birthday, he wanted to do something special.

It takes everything in your being to not burst out sobbing in front of the kids.

You all sit around the cupcake and sing to it.

You falter on the name. They don't seem to mind.

You can't bear to eat any of the cupcake, so you stick it in the fridge.

The second those kids are out the door, you cry so hard you can barely stand.

September 12, 2024, 1:12 PM

Tails bursts through the shop door, startling you and the single customer sitting at a table in the corner.

He starts talking, so fast you can only make out a few words.

Before you can tell him to slow down, Sonic runs in after him, smiling brighter than the sun and presenting to you…

…Shadow?

You nearly short-circuit.

How is he alive?

You ask as much, and they all shrug their shoulders, minus Shadow who stands there staring at you without expression.

Apparently, Shadow has some sort of minor amnesia. He can't remember much immediately before…

Well.

But, still, he's alive.

And that sparks something deep in your chest.

You wouldn't dare to believe anything. You know he's… gone.

But a tiny, near molecular voice in the back of your head says what if?

And you can't give into it, but the voice, small as it is, nestles itself in between your cerebrum and cerebellum.

Back to reality, the alien children have decided that Shadow will stay with you.

Their home doesn't have the room for yet another anthropomorphic hedgehog in it, apparently.

You don't seem to have a say in the matter.

You can't say you mind too much.

September 12, 2024, 4:25 PM

You take him in and set up a futon in a clear area of your house.

You give him a tour, which really isn't much considering there are only two actual rooms.

He follows you around, nodding or shaking his head slightly whenever you ask him a question. He's quiet. Shy, even.

You make a simple dinner in silence, and he mumbles a thank you when you hand him his plate.

He falls asleep while you're working, and when you get a closer look at him…

…Did he always look that young?

Minus the 50 years he spent in stasis, he couldn't have been more than 15. Maybe 16, if you're being generous.

His brows furrow in his slumber, painfully familiar, and you're suddenly reminded of the fact that he is, in a way, a Robotnik.

You draw in a sharp breath and blink away the stinging in your eyes.

Maybe you'll sleep early.

September 23, 2024, 1:08 PM

Three months.

It's been three months since it happened, and the pain has only barely dulled.

You're starting to wonder if the coping mechanism of bottling everything up as much as you possibly can isn't working as well as you thought it would.

Shadow has opened up more, at least. He's still quiet and sometimes stares at you, wide-eyed and expressionless, but you've had a good few conversations with him.

You've shown him how to operate some of the coffee machines, even if he isn't quite tall enough to reach them very well on his own.

Every day you spend with him, the more it sets in just how young he is.

For the first week or two after… what happened, you resented him for being a part of it all. But now?

You just see a scared kid.

Team Sonic has been back to the Mean Bean a few times since Shadow arrived. He's incredibly socially awkward and is not one for idle chit-chat, but you've seen a hint of a smile on his face a couple times, and that's enough for you.

His memories have been returning slowly. Despite the voice screaming at you at every waking moment, you don't want to hold out hope. You don't want to be crushed again when the inevitable reality hits you that he is really gone.

You remember when it happened, when three months ago, you watched the Doctor dedicate his last words to you.

You remember going through every stage of grief and then some all at once.

You remember thinking you were done with that process, then, after it hit you like a freight train in all of 20 seconds.

You checked into a hotel, perfectly calm. You went up the elevator, fine. You unlocked the door to your room, ok.

Then you shut the door behind you and realized you'd accidentally gotten a room with two beds.

You remember the taste of bile at the back of your throat.

You blink and you're back where you were, alien children conversing at the counter in your coffee shop. You realize you've been holding the same empty mug and towel for a while.

When you set them down, your palm is indented from the fabric.

October 12, 2024, 2:00 PM

Shadow has warmed up to everything a lot more since he arrived last month.

You've seen him shoot back straight espresso like it was water, which drove Knuckles insane, and, for whatever reason, made you glow with pride.

He's slowly started asking for things directly: meals, things to do, what have you. You finally got to make that revenge guac for you both. It was great.

You had to try to not choke on it.

He's insanely excited for Halloween. It's refreshing to see him like this. He's usually a pretty doom-and-gloom type of guy, and there's a pain within him that you resonate with. But right now, he looks so happy, asking if you can decorate the cafe for the holiday. Of course, you do.

His memory is almost fully restored, too. You're happy about it, but it also instills an intense anxiety in you.

You aren't sure which situation it is that's making you feel like this.

Maybe both.

It'll be 4 months in a little under a week.

You don't think it's stopped hurting.

When you get a moment to be alone, it all comes rushing back at you, and suddenly you feel like you did when it first happened.

But the hurting isn't that bad all the time. Not anymore.

It settles in your chest when you're distracted by something, knocking on your ribs when you're reminded of it.

It's constant, like a bruise that just won't go away.

But it's manageable.

What is less manageable, however, is the voice.

Every day that passes, the voice gets louder, crawling further into your brain and making itself known.

Hell, it's even shown up in your dreams.

As annoying as it is, though, it makes you think about your grief beyond what you had been.

Whenever you have one of the dreams, you wake up and shower, and sit in the water and think.

Mostly, your brain has focused on his absence. The fact that he's… gone.

But, then you start to wonder.

Would this have happened if you'd told him? Would he be gone if he knew how you felt?

Would that have even changed anything?

You have to stop before you spiral too far. Asking questions is dangerous.

You convince yourself that it's just the shower water running down your cheeks, even if your eyes burn.

October 23, 2024, 1:02 AM

You wake up.

You don't immediately open your eyes, though, because if you stay in the darkness, you can pretend that everything is alright. You can pretend that nothing's changed.

You can pretend he's still here.

You open your eyes.

The room is not silent. Faraway thunder rumbles in the sky and Shadow lightly snores from where he sleeps.

It's four months now, and you've suddenly forgotten how to feel numb.

Your hypothesis about emotional suppression seems to be correct.

You sit up.

You stare at your hands.

You can't breathe.

At first, you think someone is trying to kill you. That's the obvious answer.

But then you feel the tear drop down to the tip of your nose.

And then you break.

You lose all sense of time as your vision is flooded. You hiccup between sobs and you know you've always been an ugly crier.

What makes it worse is when you feel a hesitant hand on your shoulder, and look over to see Shadow looking at you with so much concern and understanding.

You don't want to cry in front of him. You're meant to be strong for him, for this kid that you've grown closer to, for this kid that you want to take care of.

But when he reaches up to hug you, all you can do is fall apart on his shoulder. And you feel so bad, because no kid should ever have to be the one to comfort an adult, but the tears keep coming and you can't make them stop.

You don't know how long you sat there, weeping on him, when it seems the well has run dry.

You try to mutter an apology to him, but he gets up and walks away. You stare at nothing in front of you and curse yourself for making this child have to support you, but he comes back with a glass of water, averting his eyes nervously.

You think back to the first week he was here.

He'd had a nightmare and woke up screaming and crying. When you'd gone to comfort him, you brought him a glass of water.

You had awkwardly stuttered about how crying can be dehydrating in a sad attempt to make him feel better, social skills be damned, and it had worked.

That was the first time he'd really smiled at you.

And now he's doing the same for you.

He says something similar about water and dehydration and you can't entirely understand what he's saying, but you smile as best you can through the tears in your eyes and take the glass with a choked thank you.

He lights up at the affirmation, and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest as you realize that you are to Shadow as Tom is to Sonic.

You gently ruffle the top of Shadow's head, the corner of your mouth quirking up. He flusters at the action and tilts his head, almost like a cat, you think, sporting a ghost of a smirk.

You tell him you're alright now and to go back to bed, and you yourself fall asleep with the knowledge that you are this weird alien hedgehog’s weird quasi-father, and you don't mind it one bit.

October 31, 2024, 5:30 PM

Turns out Tom and Maddie made a costume for Shadow. Sonic had apparently told them about something Shadow said about it after one of his trips to the Mean Bean, and they'd decided to surprise him. Needless to say, he was ecstatic. Others may not have registered the level of happiness he was at, but you know Shadow.

You know your boy.

Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails somehow convinced Shadow to go trick-or-treating with them. You encouraged him, too. He seemed a bit nervous, and even sort of embarrassed, but he ultimately agreed, smiling as he waved goodbye to you.

This was the first time in a while that you've been really alone. The pain starts to catch up to you and for a moment, you feel incredibly empty. Your throat begins to tighten.

You take a deep breath as the grief curls up once more, resting for the moment. It makes you cold.

You make yourself a simple latte and draw a little jack-o'-lantern on the top. Your hands still shake, but it's not too much to deal with.

You doubt anyone else will come into the shop. You already planned to close early for Halloween, and the sign at the front tells as much to any prospective customers.

You turn to begin dealing with the back counter, cleaning the machines and putting things back to where they belong. You've grown fond of the routine.

Then you hear the door open, and turn around to see Shadow running into the shop. His eyes are bright, brighter than you've ever seen them.

He tells you that he remembers everything now. He says, excited—God, it makes you happy to see him excited—that his memory is back and he can tell you what happened to–

The door opens again.

You look up.

He's there.

He's alive.

You stand there for a moment, completely still, completely silent.

You almost scream.

You leap over the counter, running and tackling him in the tightest hug you've ever given anyone.

He smells horrible. Like smoke and sulfur and dirt and grime and he's alive and he's holding onto you just as strong as you are and the voice is cheering and exploding into fireworks in your brain and the pain squeezes your heart in its hands and he's alive.

You don't even notice when the tears begin to fall. You only notice his pulse, alive, his breath, alive, his arms around you, alive, alive, alive.

When you finally pull back after what feels like both an eternity and a millisecond, you get a look at his face, and you put it in your hands and holy shit he is alive.

He looks absolutely disheveled and it's possibly the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and then he smiles, wide, genuine, warm, so rare, so real, and then he leans forward and kisses you and you can't think anymore.

He tastes awful and you've never loved him more than you do now.

#ripley doesn't say stuff #ripley doesn't know how to write #stobotnik #sonic 3 #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie 3 #agent stone #shadow the hedgehog #ivo robotnik #fanfic #im really proud of this one #made my sibling want me dead (this is a good thing to me)#im having a little bit of brainrot #you know how it is #genuinely though this might be one of the best things ive ever written???#which is crazy considering its sonic the fucking hedgehog fanfiction #but what can i say im good at writing pain #also i did so much like. way too in depth research for this #i was looking up the weather in places on specific dates i was looking up sunrise times.#im normal. i swear. (lying)#fun fact if youve made it this far for some reason:#shadows costume is a clockwork orange!#ive never seen the movie myself but i feel like maria would've gotten her hands on it and watched it with shadow #ouuhh the siblings.....#anyways.#youve got better things to do than listen to me ramble in the tags #SCRAM!#angst #angst with a happy ending #teehee

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skitskatdacat63 · 1 year ago

Text

Fernando Alonso & His Relationship With Cards

I'm sure we're all familar with the cards on the back of Fernando's Vegas GP helmet by now, but did you know his relationship with cards goes a lot deeper?

I. Magic Tricks

You've probably seen or heard someone at least mention Fernando's propensity for card tricks. As far as I can tell he was doing them(publically) as far back as 2003 all the way to as recently as 2018. Even once performing a card trick, with a condom and a teddy bear(!??!?!??!!), in front of Valentino Rossi who said "How was that possible?"(x)

But how did this start? According to James Allen, "Fernando admits to having been heavily influenced by his grandfather, a mercurial figure, who taught him magic and card tricks, still one of his passions away from the race track."(x) And I'm not sure the validity of this one, because I couldn't find an actual source, but apparently he once said: "My parents are responsible for the two things I like doing most - driving and magic tricks. They bought me my first go-kart and a magician's kit."

In several interviews he described it as his hobby off track, and that he loved learning new tricks and surprising others in the garage with them! So clearly cards are pretty important to him both as a hobby but also to who he is as a person since they've been with him just as long as racing has.

II. Card Symbolism in His Helmets

This is the reason I originally made this post, but I thought I should also explain the origins of his card fascination first. As I said, we probably all remember the cards on the back of his helmet in Vegas, but did you know that wasn't the first time he had cards on the back of his helmet?

From 2008-2013, he used to have a pair of cards on the back of his helmets. The symbolisms of the cards themselves as well as the evolution of their design is really fascinating to me! Even more so with the recent development of the card choice in 2023.

Fernando said he wanted to reference his two titles in some way on the back of his helmet and after his friend sent him several ideas, he decided on having two cards(an ace of clubs and an ace of hearts, sometimes pictured with 05 and 06 on them as well), saying: "I picked the cloverleaf [the ace of clubs - Ed] to give me luck, but the only pity is that it doesn't have four leaves!"(X)

2008.

Here's the very first appearance of the cards! They're displayed flat, with the 05 and 06 clearly visible

2009.

Very similar to 2008, but with a slightly different design, and they're maybe a bit more straight with less shadow?

2010.

This is the first major change! I was sad they didn't have the years on them anymore, but then I realized they're sparkly to match with his signature lightning bolts on the top of the helmet!!

2011.

Honestly I'm still somewhat unsure if this is the actual 2011 helmet? It's pretty difficult to find clear photos of the back of helmets from older seasons. It's easiest to find them on replica sites or auction sites so I'm not 100%? But anyways, I like that this has the championship years on the underside of the cards

2012.

This is when I started getting weirdly emotional about the helmets. Do you see how they've progressed from being a centerpoint to being curled up and sad at the bottom of the helmet? Not listing the year anymore??

2013.

Same thoughts as 2012. And after this season, they cease to exist (just like his ferrari chair in the garage, WOAH CALLBACK), until cards make a reeappearance in his Vegas helmet, albeit in a different form

2013 Monaco(Honorable Mention):

For some reason 2013 helmets were easier to find proper pictures of, so I happened to witness this absolute beauty. The creativity of this helmet genuinely blows me away??? Wanting to keep the card motif, but making sure to incorporate it into the rest of the puzzle piece design?? Mwah! There was another special 2013 helmet but they didn't change the cards at all so I really applaud this one

2023 Las Vegas(The Return of The King):

The magnificent return! But look! The cards are different cards! Instead of being two aces, it's now an ace of hearts, a four of hearts(his driver number of course!) and, the, now iconic, representation of himself as a Joker. I literally could not believe my eyes when this helmet was released and I saw the Joker card, what a fucking silly old man....I really wonder if he felt nostalgic having cards on his helmet again or if he didn't think about it all and was just like, "ah cards because Vegas!!!"

III. Why Does This Matter?

*The rest of the post was factual, this is moreso my personal thoughts on the symbolism of the cards/designs

This post spawned from me recently watching the 2010 Bahrain gp and noticing "hey wait a minute...are those CARDS ON THE BACK OF HIS HELMET!?" It's a really tiny detail that's unfortunately covered up by the HANS device pretty much whenever he's wearing the helmet, so it's really difficult to spot! But I became fascinated with the fact that he had cards on his helmet before that recent helmet, and now here we are!

There's something to me about how the design of the cards evolves over the course of six seasons from the cards being front and center to being smaller, more folded up and closer to the bottom of the helmet. As I said, the 2012-2013 ones genuinely made me depressed because it feels, symbolically, like his hopes for getting another Ace are becoming more and more unlikely and falling away until they eventually fall falt and fade away entirely after 2013 and disappear for basically a decade.

But when they return? They're not the same cards! Instead of representing Fernando's championships, they now represent him as a person, displaying his driver number and his persona of being a Joker!! Though I do think it's interesting he happened to keep the Ace of Hearts, even though he talked more about the Ace of Clubs before. I'm not sure it's actually this deep in reality, but I like to think that it's him not letting his championships(and the lack thereof) define him, but rather letting who he is as a person shine and be the centerpoint instead! But on a sadder note, as @suzuki-ecstar said to me, maybe the Aces aren't there anymore because he's lost all hope for a chance at a third Ace entirely :(

#yes its finals week and im up to my eyes in coursework but instead decided to spend like 5 hours researching and writing this post #nah bcs i actually genuinely put more work into this then I think I have all semester dsfjdskjg #that thing about him using a condom and teddy bear in a magic trick genuinely had me crying with laugher. actual tears rolling down my face #<- HOW!?!? WHAT WAS THE TRICK?? its literally inconceivable to me what he did. oh if only there were pics UGH #anyways!! this post was a lot of fun to make!! i really really love the symbolism and design of helmets so this was a rly fun project #and i also went down a lot of rabbitholes while make this and saw many very weird articles from yore #i feel like i make an equal amnt of deranged posts abt seb and nando but i dont know why nando is gifted w all my well researched projects #<- i.e. chair post. that was the same level of research as this one but at least this one i could find actual sources about....#idk theres smth about the extremely long history of nando's history that evokes research posts like this KLAJSLSKDJ #theres just so much that i dont think I ever really see people discussing! so i must create.#haha what was that joke tag i wanted to make abt my researched posts? I think:#normal posts that catie normally makes in a normal fashion #<- one day ill go back and actually tag posts w that. bcs the amtn of research compared to my actual schoolwork is so unwell #fernando alonso #fa14 #f1 #formula 1 #catie.rambling.txt #we do a little bit of f1

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