#ramon you are useless

[philtatosbuck]

chris deserves time to process and whatnot yeah yeah yeah but you have to be legitimately insane to think it is not deeply fucking cruel and harrowing that helena thinks it's honest to god best she takes her grandson away indefinitely to texas from his good father and support system instead of encouraging him to just take some space for a couple days like any good grandmother would

[cornerdreams-txt]

hiiii so i was talking with a friend about the consequences of q!fit being in. a fucking pit. with dead bodies. for weeks. and we've agreed that, you know, being a 2b2t veteran and a major historian, fit has gone through a lot, that honestly? the worst part just might be the isolation aspect.

on 2b2t, even if it was a fight, or even if he had to duck into cover and hide, there was people. there was other people. fit would see others, he wasn't ever truly, fully alone. but here? in this pit? the only soul is himself. everyone else is beyond his reach. so when he finally, finally gets back, gets to go home, he's... at a loss. everything he'd grown used to is no longer normal to him. it's as foreign and strange as it once was when he first arrived on the island. sleeping on a bed. seeing people. being touched.

pac is unbearably kind to him, when the pieces finally fall into place, and fit's sudden, severe aversion to touch turns out to be touch starvation, and isolation trauma, no matter how hard fit tries to pretend its fine.

after some serious consideration, pac decides a good way to help fit readjust will be not to tell him that he's safe, but to show him.

also this got really long so there's more under the cut! i'm just putting the cut there to shorten the visible length of this post for the sake of scrollers lol

at first, he listens. watches. fit never turns his back on him, no matter what. he's always within fit's line of sight. so, he takes initiative. he turns his back to fit, on purpose. including when they sleep in the same bed - pac will stretch wide and long, then curl up on his side, back to fit, and let himself doze off there, all too aware of fit's eyes burning into the backs of his shoulder.

...fit always keeps at least one hand empty, or filled with a weapon when he's around other people. so, pac happily busies his hands with trinkets and useless items - blocks and books and signs and food and tools and never potions fit wouldn't be able to immediately identify - until fit stops watching pac's hands so warily.

fit doesn't touch him. so pac touches him, slowly, cautiously. absently reaches out to dust off his clothes for him, grabs his hand to give it a little squeeze, blows him a playful kiss if he's feeling extra sappy or teasing, shows him with gentle hands that it's okay. pac isn't going to hurt him.

and he keeps doing it, over and over, making himself vulnerable, allowing himself to appear defenseless and weak in fit's eyes, even when it makes his own anxiety tick and claw at him, because he knows fit won't hurt him. fit might be scared and withdrawn and back, in some ways, to how he used to be, but it's still his fit. he's still safe with him around.

and fit, well. if it weren't for it being pac, he'd call it stupiditiy. he'd call it suicidality to be so open, so vulnerable around someone else like that. especially someone who you know is dangerous and volatile and bloodthirsty and not afraid to hurt others. but it is pac. it's his boyfriend. it's ramon's other dad. so he checks himself, reevaluates, questions over and over why pac would be doing this.

it isn't until pac pulls fit to hover over him while he enthusiastically explains a new creative idea he's been mulling over in his brain, hands gesturing happily within the confines of fit's arms and their chests, rambling and infodumping, occasionally stumbling and struggling to find the words in english while he explains, that fit's brain clicks together that all that vulnerability. all that intentional self-disarming. it's been intentional. it's all. been intentional.

the reason pac has been putting himself in danger (making himself vulnerable) around fit is because he trusts fit. these intentional acts that fit would call suicidality in anybody else aren't pac being stupid or careless, it's a willful, intentional reminder, over and over and over, "i trust you," in every breath he breathes while doing things he knows fit's survival habits and instincts would never let him even try to do, showing him that it's safe, here, because if it wasn't, he wouldn't be doing all this.

if it wasn't pac doing all that shit, fit would call it stupiditiy.

but it is pac. so instead, he's pretty sure it's just… pac.

it's just his boyfriend.

so, he's okay.

[qtubbo]

Awww Pac’s offering to walk Sunny back to Tubbo but she wants to be independent so he’s just watching them from afar and asking if they’re sure. 

I read this as Sunny being angry and sad after one too many bad things today more than wanting to be independent. Pac was sweet but it definitely seems like she’s taking after her Pa with how she’s handling possible conflict 🙁

Ramon told them to ‘i feel like u should go to ur dad’, which he probably didn’t mean anything by but she definitely took it as her brother wanting her to leave. Before that there was suspicion thrown around about their bodyguard, driver, accountant, and friend as possible thieves. They overheard Fit questioning why Foolish would want to team up with their Pa. They watched their Pa moping around and feeling useless all day. She had a lot of lowercase signs and angry reactions. She didn’t wait for her Pa before going to bed.

A lot of small things but today was definitely not a good day for Sunny. At least It seemed like she was getting along with Tallulah, and Ramon did give her an invite to the birthday party.

twas a liveblog so I wasn’t thinking hard on it, but I think her rejecting Pac who is their driver, that in her own play pretend world his job would be to walk them back to Pa, from taking her back had more to do with Ramon’s sign. Ramon intended, I saw you waiting earlier and I know you want to go to him you don’t have to stay here and it was most likely read as leave me to my family time and go to yours.

As a callback to Ramon’s letter, he talked a lot about how Pac being his Pai is really important to him, how he needs Pac to fell like a full family. You can tell they really took that letter to heart since it queued Sunny’s later obsession with the idea of having two parents, a happy family like Ramon’s with her Ma and Pa. Sunny has been recognizing the difference between Ramon’s inner family Fit and Pac, versus his outer family Sunny, Empanada, Tubbo, Dapper, and Leo.

If Sunny were to go with Pac or Fit back to Tubbo that would ruin the point, because Ramon wanted to be with his family and they can’t ruin that so Sunny couldn’t go with Pac.

I don’t think Sunny doubts Ramon loves her, but I do think their drawing a greater line between her family and Ramon’s family, which before as could been seen by their reaction to Fit saying they aren’t family Sunny thought were the same. Sunny’s very young and developing pretty much everyday is going to effect her, so good things like Tallulah might like me and Ramon invited me to Fit’s birthday party is going to get balanced by things that may seem small but are big to her with Pa keeps leaving me behind and Ramon doesn’t want me intruding with his family.

[tallulah-spins-in-brain-24-7]

“Confidential experiments” written interviews, results, egg statuses, and finally thoughts and theories   

First, the interviews.

Q: Questions 

N: Cucurucho’s notes 

R: egg responses

Q: who are your parents? 

R: Philza and Missa. 

N: Correct. 

Q: which parent do you spend the most time with?

R: Philza 

N: correct 

Q: what have you learned from your parents? (Asked x2) 

R: to trust yourself and the closest people around 

N: trust 

Q: do you feel weak? x2

R: not much different. I’m okay. I don’t feel weak 

N: said not much 

Q: who are your parents? 

R: Badboyhalo and baghera 

N: correct 

Q: how are you currently feeling? 

R: like killing certain bear in front me but also than that nothing 

N: threatening behaviour 

Q: have the cookies made you happy 

R: cookies is cookies so I guess yes 

N: yes. 

Q: who are your parents? 

R: Foolish y vegetta 

N: correct 

Q: do you hate anybody? 

R: hay que ser sinceros? (Do we have to be honest?) la sunny (the sunny) 

N: sunny

Q: do you feel weak? 

R: debil??? no, yo soy fuerte y mamadisima (weak??? no, I am strong and very [slang for] ripped/strong) 

N: no 

Q: Who are your parents? 

R: mamae Bagi Mami mouse mama Niki and eomma tina

N: correct 

Q: have the cookies made you happy? 

R: I trusted you it would be safe and that trust killed me. Change the baker of the cookies. 

N: no 

(Em says “also passa tudo bubble blower) 

Q: what do you know about the federation? 

R: you could give me my life back, but I’m not perfect enough am I

(Cucurucho says “good”) 

N: odd behaviour. Needs observation? 

Q: who are your parents? 

R: PA TUBBO POP SLIME MA LENAY :D 

N: correct 

Q: what have you learned from your parents? 

R: THAT IM THE CUTEST :D 

N: useless. 

Q: what do you know about the federation? 

R: MY STEP PA WORKS HERE :D ILL TAKE OVER SOON >:D 

N: threatening behaviour

Q: who are your parents? 

R: apa Quackity apa Marianna y apa roier :-D 

N: correct 

Q: what do you value the most? 

R: que mis apas sean felices asi muy muy felices :] (May my parents be happy, very very happy.) 

N: very parent-oriented 

Q: who do you get along with best on this island? 

R: con mi bestie Leo, mi awelo foolish y soulmate empi! :D (with my bestie Leo, my awelo foolish and soulmate empi!) 

N: trusting behaviour 

Q: who are your parents? 

R: Fit and Pac. U should know. 

N: correct? (Pac?) 

Q: do you hate somebody? 

R: maybe. But that’s personal right? 

C: maybe. 

N: hides 

Q: what do you know about the federation? 

R: only what the federation wants me to know. That’s what u do right? 

(Cucurucho says: “yes”) 

N: needs observation. 

(Ramon says: “can I ask you to make the island less homophobic? Would be great”) 

(Cucurucho says: “good”) 

(Tallulah is defended by Ramon and chayanne, who are pushed back by workers. Cucurucho says “no” and watches Dapper steal paint. Adds note that says “steals” on dappers profile.) 

Q: who are your parents? 

R: papa Phil, papi Wilbur, pa missa 

N: correct 

Q: do you hate somebody?

R: no mames Cucurucho. Maybe. 

N: maybe 

Q: what do you value the most? 

R: I value quality time, something papa Phil and chay gives me :D 

N: family-oriented behaviour 

(Cucurucho says “good”) 

Second activity: Egg fights/Combat analysis 

Eggs are then given a totem of undying and a stick, put in a room and told to fight. 

Chayanne vs Empanada. Chayanne won 

Dapper vs pepito. Dapper won. 

Tallulah vs Ramon. Tallulah won. 

Sunny vs Leonarda. Leonarda won. Ramon rushed in to stand protectively in front of Sunny, placing himself between them when sunny was killed. Tallulah* called sunny/Ramon a cheater.  (*edited because I originally wrote pepito on accident)

Cucurucho then leaves, and talks to three workers. 

Cucurucho: I need the wearabouts of the two missing eggs. No excuses. 

(Worker nods) 

Cucurucho: they have improved well. The federation will be happy. But they are not perfect. 

Cucurucho is then handed this book by a fourth worker: 

Then, we have the egg statuses:

Conclusions, thoughts, and theories

New info: 

- Two unnamed eggs (Definitely A1 and Hope)

- Richas is in group four. Why? He’s meant to be in tallulahs group, but this implies he’s from another batch. Would explain why he’s smaller. Also, maybe why he knows so much about egg island? 

- earlier in the stream, there were files for the eggs. Basically barrels containing their assessments and reports on development. There were two barrels labelled ▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️(presumably “memories” which is another name for hope) and ▪️▪️▪️  ▪️▪️(egg a1).

My Thoughts/theories

One of either hope or a1 is dead. My bet is on a1 being dead, considering we saw her fall into lava on screen in one of Quackities streams. Hope, or memories, however, has no proof on her status. Aside from that image. My bet is hope is alive. If so, where is she? Are the batches labeled in order, or are they judged by success in development? Which would explain why Richas is group four: he’s considered the worst egg to the federation. He doesn’t back down, he’s reckless, he’s impulsive, he’s against the feds.He threatened Cucurucho. He doesn’t listen to orders. Hes untrustworthy. This is how the federation views him. A1 couldn’t do basic parkour, and struggled to write. Hope? The federation deemed her unworthy.Tallulah was likely meant to be batch 4, considering she was abandoned in the adoption centre just like hope was. But then with Phil’s care, she “leveled up” so to speak. 

(it has been pointed out to me that Memories/Hope is actually listed as group 2, which is listed as deceased. Meaning Egg A1 is likely the one who is alive, which will certainly be… interesting, when they meet Quackity again. Poor kid. I’m still holding out, well, hope, that hope is alive somewhere.)

I believe sunny is on thin ice, because of the notes that Cucurucho made in her developmental report. 

And where did pomme and Richas go? They were seen in the library where Cucurucho found the eggs, but must have snuck away at some point. I think the fact that they were left behind will have something to do with the rescue mission they’ve been planning for Cellbit and Baghera. 

thank you for reading! If you’re interested, I finally got around to making my hope design based on the egg models:

https://www.tumblr.com/soot-spins-in-brain-24-7/741070126497038336/my-design-for-hopememory-egg?source=share

(Also the lovely egg divider is by @thegoldendaystrikesback)

[hausofmamadas]

PRIMOGENITAL | the Wisdom of Fredward Horniman

From The Gentlemen, Episode 1 - Refined Agression

∴

Look, you guys. He’s really suffered, okay?

He’s been STABBED in the heart, he’s been London-BRIDGED(?), he’s been FUCKED in the face, DOGGED on the floor.

And it’s true. He has, despite being the firstborn son, been relegated to the truly harrowing fate of being the most embarrassingly, painfully, mediocre progeny in the family line, that his dad had no choice but to break with 600yrs of tradition and cut him out of the will, passing everything to younger, much cooler more responsible brother, Edwina “Eddie” Horniman. And isn’t not having a bullshit title, nor the crushing debt of his father’s failed above-board business, nor having to deal with the surprise! extensive, underground potfarm on the estate grounds and all the accompanying stress and criminal hijinx with it— well, isn’t it just the most traumatic thing you can imagine???????

Now all Freddy gets to do is:

live in historic mansion with way-too-cool-to-be-caught-dead-with-him, Inexplicable-Stunt-Driver-Wife Tamasina (known by abs legendary nickname of Wham Tam) who also, when asked by Freddy in a moment of desperation if she thinks he’s a cock, rightly points out, “all men are cocks, Freddy”

pal around in chicken costume and steal cars with chill asf brother that he only occasionally wants dead, Steady Eddie who’s legit so good at everything that Freddy doesn’t have to be good at anything

go “fishing” aka chuck live grenades into lake full of salmon, a method worthy of Park-Tuna-Assassin Ramon Arellano Félix and invent Crack!Weed another Ramon-coded pasttime with bestie-botanist and lover of all things hydroponic, hallucinogenic, and Special Sauce, Jimmy Chang …. AND

Skeet shoot out in picturesque estate garden with creature-whisperer, actual live angel, and all around Dilf-of-the-manor, Geoff

Oh, the horror.

No, but honestly, I cannot summon from memory a single character I have so biblically despised on first watch, only to full 180, violently swing in the opposite direction to straight glee/appreciation for the comedic marvel that is Mr. (not!)Duke-SirFancyPants-RoyalDumpsterFire-LordSomethingErOther, the one, the only, Frederick “Fredward” Horniman aka thisprince👇

Yeah, talk about refined aggression? I had some refined ass aggression toward ole Fred, here. Like when I tell you I hated this “man,” I h a t e d this man.

All I could think the whole time, on first watch was, wowowow, y’know what’s worse than a useless, entitled, infantile, drug-addled, narcissistic man-fetus …?

A loud useless, entitled, infantile, drug-addled, narcissistic man-fetus.

My mans, Eddie is wayyy too generous here☝️and every other time he bails Freddy out of whatever pigshit he manages to shove his full face into bc I’d be throwing more than paper. That antique furniture would regrettably be sailing thru the air, straight at that fat melon of this nepo-baby dressed in DivineRightofKings drag, if only to get a precious few fucking seconds of silence.

Like the only one reacting appropriately here is Charly☝️who Freddy snarkily calls Lady Macbeth with a mix of love and contempt only a sibling can display which like, not the best? insult? To be called one of the most groundbreaking female characters of all time? But our boy is nothing if not scholarly, right. So im sure he super paid attention when the class was reading Macbeth

So, yeah. He’s basically the worst. There’s a metric fuck ton of evidence to support that. AND YET, this mf isn’t completely useless bc after my 2nd and 3rd rewatch specifically witnessing the genius that is his alter ego, plastic Russian gangster, Anatoly Givenchy Romanov who laavs orange cars and Siberian tigers let me do tell you, against my better judgment, I found myself growing to love and adore the (2nd) funniest character in an already hilarious show (crown goes to beautiful tropical fish Jimmy bc mans always proper vibin’)

And now, when I watch this scene, instead of berserker levels of enraged, I’m struck with a disorienting combo of secondhand cringe + juvenile glee??? Like instead of wanting to aggravated manslaughter my own tv, I’m just “awww, Fredward. What a little nothing you are. Look how silly you look in your lil boarding school jumper.” And it feels good(?) but mostly bad. And then I do this

like the true American scum that I am.

═

taglist: @drabbles-mc @when-did-this-become-difficult @narcolini, @ladygoatee ⇝ tagged bc even tho you have zero intention of watching, you were diligently taking notes

[th3-p-a1-nt3r]

Okay im literally so bored soooo

@pastelclovds ' isekai AU for Wren again bc i LOVE WRITING!!!

Wrens Isekai life!! Pt. 2!

When they get to the apartment luckily it seemed furnitured but bland enough to still decorate

Wren began to sign to CAM

"Which room would you like, oldest gets to pick first"

RAM a bit offended sighs and takes the L on this one

CAM picked the middle room, not too big, not too small

"RAM would you like the bigger room, I don't wanna be selfish and take it if you want it instead!"

RAM would take it normally, but with the size of the big room it would be better for Wren to take it, since they need the wheelchair in there...

Or maybe they can share this room?

"We can share, the smallest room will be CAM and I office"

"Fair, and sorry if Im being annoying but can you place me on the couch? I'll fidgure out something i can do, don't want to be a mooch ahah!"

Wren felt bad that their useless this time around

Normally they'd be dancing, helping move anything, preparing dinner or even going to their job

But in this world they really can't move with any support

For now they'll just be doing laundry and unpacking boxes for RAM and CAM

Speaking of the two

"Hey RAM, get CAM I need to talk to the two of you!"

They both sit next to Wren as they look at the two

"Okay now that were in a world were I'm familiar with we need to get you better names, I think CAM will be Cameron or Cam for short, its obvious, but RAM...Why don't I call you...Ramon? Just for now! I'll still call the you Ram and Cam but more as nicknames...luckily my name is a normal name so unless the two of you want to share a last name then we need some type of household name"

RAM was barely following along while CAM took notes\

After Wren's rambles they finally got RAM's attention

"Now Ram, Cam if anyone ask you two are born from the same mom different dads, also we should find out if AM is here as well..II know you all don't get along but it'll be nice to see if he has a new identity here as well"

"He won't live here right?"

"Of course not, if he has a house or whatever we'll visit him"

Ram nodded and Cam seemed a bit off with that idea but Wren knows how to lie better than the two of them

"If we can...I kinda wanna see if we can live here as long as we can.."

Wren spoke with a bit of sadness, Ram and Cam knew somewhat why they would wanna stay here but not for what they think

"So, lets fine jobs and I'll lie my candy ass off to make sure no one knows of who we we're before"

They both nod

Night falls and Wren is sitting on the couch knitting a blanket for winter, Cam usually gets cold often so this would be a nice surpise for Christmas

"Wren..."

"Whats up Ram..."

Ram sighs as he sits next to Wren trying to keep them as close as possible

"What is bothering you..I know something is wrong...I may be apathetic to others but for you it's different..I've been in you're mind but I know you kept secrets from me..You're in despair...i know it..."

"I..its..its a long story....And I know I've known you for a while I just...I don't know if you'd hate me for it"

Wren confested as they pinned the chain they were on and packed it into a bag for safe keeping

"When I think you're ready I'll tell you the truth"

Ram seemed a bit upset but he knows its for the best

"I'll put faith you'll tell me"

Ram spoke so softly

Even with his accent he still manages to sound so soft

"heh...I love your scars by the way...they look really cool, can...can I touch them? If you want you can touch mine as well!"

Wren smiled as Ram shook his head

"You may...but you don't have to if you don't want to"

Wren smiled wider as they removed their jacket for him to see the tank top they wore

Their scars ran up their spine and into their hair, they had some on their shoulders and knees but most where on their head

"Oh but I do Ram~"

Adding spicy moments soon~

[vern-a]

Qsmp is very important!!!

Looked at purely from the way qsmp's world works!!!

You know why i love qsmp so much?

Its very communal and collabotative. The parents take care of tasks for those who cant make it. Everyone has linked up their waypoints solely to make sure they have a faster way of getting to each other, lest trouble arises.

Food, tools, items and anything else in need is shared. There is almost a communal pool of resources. Knowledge is shared freely, and everyone makes an effort to update each other on important matters (wether just about mod quirks (our genious Ramon) or helping with setting up the translator, anything). If someone has an abundance of something (Phils dirt) theyll ask anyone they meet if they need any.

Distribution of labour!! Some people are mostly self-sufficient, but there are some who farm and distribute food to those who focus more on building or looking after the eggs. I love the habit of streamers asking each other if they have enough food. Some are being useless sluts (/pos /affectionate) and still are taken care of by the community (if the lore allows it).

The accommodation of (potential!!) disability and acceptance of people. Dappers uber autism is not seen as something in need of changing. Bad is more than happy to see the boy do his thing and every streamer exposed to Dappers collections is impressed and prideful. Tallulahs shyness and reckless love for the harsh world isnt seen as something that she needs to get rid of, lest she get hurt, but rather as something that she needs to cherish, because it is valuable and special. (I can again mention the sharing of resources here!!).

The absolute queerness of it. The whole island is essentially a policule. Suggestive and sexual activities are always consensual and not looked down upon. Not participating in sexual activity is not looked down upon!! Platonic assigned co-parenting, and being a single parent is regarded as equal to the (out of game) standard of mother/ father/ child. Eggs not really having a gender, or having multiple genders or being Very Cis (lobe you Chayanne). Pronouns optional (and always respected). Bitch wife (he is a man and also enjoys this). Men in dresses (and not making it a mockery/ caricature of women). Jaiden (we love you girlboss <3).

Qsmp is a perfect world that is community-oriented, child-centered, library economy based, queer and poc without judgement or stigma. There is so much love admist the chaos and confusion, and everyone is willing and ready to fight, live and go to therapy for the protection and prosperity of the children, for each other, and for family.

Qsmp is my perfect future.

I love it. I feel loved BY it. Thank you, Quackity. Thank you, admins. Thank you, streamers. I love you.

[rainbowonice]

writing down all my problems with this episode to heal my soul and release my inner hater self:

Athena pestering Amir and abusing her power as a cop once again without repercussions

the narrative using Amir, a man that lost his wife in a terrible fire and got literally scarred for life, as a red herring MULTIPLE times literally leave him alone he did nothing to deserve this

Eddie's parents character regression, Helena SMILING the whole time and Ramon saying that Shannon is "even in death that woman is making his life a chaos” like? neither he or Chris ever got over her and Kim made it 100 times worse and they didn't fix it or address how Shannon death affected them, Eddie is still romanticising her, his family is still vilanizing her and we have no idea what Chris thinks even if that should have been where the story was taking us, them finally having a real talk about Shannon, instead they made Chris run away.

daddy kink joke i already made a post about this but id like to add that daddy issues ≠ daddy kink and that making them equal is gross and is harmful having parental issues shouldn't be a sexual thing.

cartel not cartel thing taking up 40% of the episode for literally no reason and i already made a post on how racist that whole plot is

Bobby dying for 14 minutes and then being ok by THE END OF THE DAY and then 2 WEEKS LATER coming in at work without telling it to anyone else and without even taking away his retirement request??????

the zero stakes regarding Bobby's life the team looking unfazed, no one was crying, no one was really worried and at the end of the day we even got Buck having a dinner date wearing the same shirt he has been wearing THE WHOLE DAY (I'm not letting this slide I'm sorry that's my new roman empire) like ok i thought that we were a family lmao?

Bobby suicidal thought are healed ig now sure

Madney taking temporary custody of Mara first of all a quick google search told me it takes "after you complete your training, it usually takes about three to four months" and they did it in like a week help and the whole narrative is just lesbianphobia. Henren can't get a single family story without it ending with the kid taken away or the kid thinking that two mothers aren't enough there is a need of a dad... while is a cute scene or whatever it reeks of cishet couple does it better and without struggle while the black lesbians have to struggle and beg.

that old fart coming back he's 200 years old at best what the fuck a cold will take him out prince Philip looked better 2 days before perishing be real how is he supposed to be a threat? Just sneeze near him GOD

the episode overall was predictable af and honestly boring it fell flat and the screentime Amir got was CRAZY they cut so many scenes they cut a whole Eddie and Chris scene of them crying in Chris room (what was the context we will never know rip) just to get 100 scenes of the cartel, the ugliest date scene you've ever experienced in your life and Athena neighbour from 4 doors down.

this season was The Worst season they ever made even worse than season 1 and 6 and you guys have no idea how much i hate them. It was a whole mess rushed, dumb, badly written, badly executed, wasted time on useless scenes and cut away too much, they didn't had a single normal call, they didn't had a single fire engine scene, they all looked disconnected and it legit made no sense not even the actors liked it.

[brooklynstar]

Cisco: **loses Harry in a crowd** Hey Jesse, I can’t find Harry anywhere. I’m getting worried.

Jesse: Hm. Alright. **cups mouth** HARRISON WELLS SUCKS

Harry: **nothing**

Jesse: Oh. I know! **cups mouth** CISCO RAMON IS SMALL, DUMB AND USELESS

Harry: **cocks gun, pushing his way through the crowd** WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY-

Jesse: Found ‘im.

[art-of-manliness]

Saddle Up! A Dictionary of Old-Time Cowboy Slang

The cowboy is one of the great archetypes of American manliness.  He embodies many of the virtues Americans prize, such as grit, freedom, and independence. The cowboy followed a code of honor that, rather than being set by an aristocracy, came from the ground up and worked itself out within a posse.  While many of our ideas of cowboy life are a myth, the romantic ideal of it has had an outsized influence on American culture, including in language.  Because the cowpuncher was typically uneducated, he often used slang to communicate with his horse-riding, steer-roping peers. In 1936, American folklorist Ramon Adams published an ethnography called Cowboy Lingo that focused on the unique language of American cowboys. In it, he cataloged the colorful slang words used by cowboys in the American West from the 19th century to the early 20th. According to Adams, cowboy slang is characterized by the use of picturesque metaphors. The cowboy drew from his everyday life to create phrases and words that could be used more broadly. For example, a cowboy might have noticed that when a bull gets angry, it starts aggressively pointing its horns at would-be targets. To tell a fellow cowpoke to quit looking for trouble, a cowboy might say to his compadre: “Pull in your horns!” Below, we give you a sampling of common cowboy slang words. You might notice some of them sprinkled in a Western movie or novel, and you’ll even notice some that are still in use today. Ace in the hole. A hideout or a hidden gun. According to Hoyle. Correct, by the book. “Hoyle” is a dictionary of rules for card games. Acknowledge the corn. To admit the truth, to confess a lie, or acknowledge an obvious personal shortcoming. Addle-headed. Empty-headed, not smart. A hog-killin’ time. A real good time. “We went to the Rodeo Dance and had us a hog-killin’ time.” A lick and a promise. To do a haphazard job. “She just gave it a lick and a promise.” All-fired. Very, great, immensely; used for emphasis. “He is just too all-fired lazy to get any work done around here.” Amputate your timber. Go away, run off. Apple peeler. Pocket knife. Apple pie order. In top shape, perfect order. Attitudinize. To assume an affected attitude. Bach (pronounced “batch”). For a man to keep house without a woman’s help. Backdoor Trots. Diarrhea. Ballyhoo. Sales talk, advertising, exaggeration. Barber’s cat. Half-starved, sickly-looking person. Barber’s clerk. A conceited, over-dressed fellow who tries to act like a “gentleman.” Barkin’ at a knot. Doing something useless; wasting your time, trying something impossible. Barrel boarder. A bum. Between hay and grass. Neither man nor boy, half-grown. Biggest toad in the puddle. The most important person in a group. Biggity. Large, extravagant, grand, haughty. Black-eyed susan. A six-gun. Blue devils. Dispirited. “I have the blue devils today.” Bone orchard. Cemetery. Bosh. Nonsense. “It was absolute bosh what he said.” Boss. The best, top. “The Alhambra Saloon sells the boss whiskey in town.” Buckaroo. A cowboy, usually from the desert country of Oregon, Nevada, California, or Idaho. Buckle to. Set about any task with energy and determination. Calico queen. Prostitute. California widow. A woman separated from her husband, but not divorced. (From when pioneer men went West, leaving their wives to follow later.) Cash in. To die. Catch a weasel asleep. Referring to something impossible or unlikely, usually used in regard to someone who is always alert and seldom or never caught off guard.  Clodhopper. A rustic, a clown. Cotton to. To take a liking to. Cowboy up. Toughen up, get back on yer horse, don’t back down, don’t give up. Dash. Euphemism for damn. Dead-alive. Dull, inactive, moping. Didn’t have a tail feather left. Broke. Docity. Quick comprehension, usually used in a negative way. “He has no docity.” Don’t care a continental. Don’t give a damn. Dry gulch. To ambush someone, especially when the ambusher hides in a gully or gulch… http://dlvr.it/T613jw

[skylarmoon71]

Harry Wells (Flash) - Earth 2 - Chapter 14

Letting go is painful.

Harry hoped that those memories would hold for longer.

He was never certain when it would kick in.

It was quicker than he expected.

The both of you were having coffee. All you’d done was take a seat, and that was it.

“Oh, hello?”

Your head tilted to the side, as you stared at him.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes, have we met before?”

It was a literal gut punch. You were smiling, but there was not an ounce of recognition in your eyes. Harry did his best to collect himself to lay out a response that would be believable.

“I spilled my coffee on you yesterday, I wanted to apologize.” He placed the drink that he bought just for you on the table. When you read the label, your smile got brighter.

“Thank you, that’s so nice of you. I’m sure the coffee spilling was my fault though. I tend to get a bit clumsy. Especially around handsome men.”

From the color that littered your cheeks, it was clear you hadn’t planned to say that.

He couldn’t help it, he laughed. Because it was so uncharacteristic of you. It was all he could truly do to keep himself from crying at the moment.

His laughter seemed to urge your own.

The both of you sat there in fits of laughter. When it slowly began to die down, he wanted to reach out. Touch you, hold you, one last time. But it was useless. After a moment of internal battle, He stood.

“I should get going.”

You rise with him.

“W-Wait I-”

From the look on your face, it’s clear that you didn’t want him to leave. But he couldn’t stay there.

“Is there any way we could meet again?”

His expression slowly fell, and he reached for his cap out of instinct.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s all he said as he marched out of the shop, leaving you standing there.

It was cowardly, he knew that.

But there was nothing else he could do.

He told himself it was wrong.

It was wrong for him to be this angry.

He wanted to see that smile, and you were finally wearing it. One that had no pain from Eobard’s wounds. Regret from decisions you made to save the ones you love. It was all gone.

You were free.

To live your life.

Now he needed to go and find a way to live his.

“You’re going back to earth 2?”

Harry nodded at Cisco’s observation. He’d caught him packing up a few of his gadgets from the lab. Barry’s steps slowed when he caught the conversation.

“When do you plan to come back?” Barry asked.

Now Caitlin was fully listening.

“I don’t know.”

He wasn’t sure he could, at least not at the moment.

“I just need time to get things in order.”

“You mean forget about (Y/N).”

Cisco’s words were filled with bitterness.

“You’re just going to walk away. You promised you would see her one last time didn’t you? Now you’re just going to leave. Run away like you always do when you don’t want to face a problem.”

“What exactly would you have me do Ramon? Walk up to her and play pretend?”

“We know it’s hard but-”

“IT’S IMPOSSIBLE!” Harry exploded.

He dropped his bag to the ground, fist clenched.

“I can’t..I can’t..”

He couldn’t even get the words out, and they understood. Harry looked off to the side, choking on his words. Cisco nodded, taking a step closer as he placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Pretty soon Barry and Caitlin were at his side doing the same. It’s rare for someone as proud as Harry to be vulnerable.

All they could do at the moment was provide comfort.

Because no amount of words would fix what had been done.

[joezy27]

HAWKEYE - "The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same"

A Kate Bishop story by Kelly Thompson

My neighbor across the street is trying to kill us all.

Okay, wait. We gotta go back further. Let’s see…where to start?

I broke my leg.

Actually, that’s inaccurate, Ladder Man broke my leg while I was doing super hero stuff during the pandemic. Oh yeah, the pandemic. Context. Stories have to have context. So let’s go further back. This is the last time, I promise.

Nobody ever expected this to happen. I mean, we were all waiting for the apocalypse of course... a zombie one, a nuclear winter one, even a sharknado one…but the one where you have to stay home for months on end by yourself and watch your life and loved ones slip away either metaphorically or literally or both? Yeah, nobody wrote stories about that. You know why? Because it sucks. And it’s boring. And nobody would sign up for it! I would fight a thousand zombie hordes before I’d be trapped in this uncertainty again. But we do what we have to do for the safety of ourselves and others. Even when the ask is huge. Even when the ask is weird.

And I am who I am, so I wanted to do more, I wanted to help. Heck, I needed to help, it might be compulsive, but let’s put a pin in that for now.

Annnnnnyway, while I’m someone with some very particular and impressive skills, I’m not skilled at everything. In fact, I’m bad at a lot.

The masks I tried to sew? They were bad. Very very bad.

The website I tried to build for Ramone to help her surf shop get through the shutdown? She fired me. Do you know how bad a website has to be to get your best friend—who is not paying you—to fire you? Yeah. It was that bad.

I did successfully donate blood, but there’s only so much blood you can donate, and only so many cookies you can eat. Well, okay, you can probably eat infinite cookies, and have a great time doing it, but not if you ever want to fit into your costume again. Like, a form-fitting costume with hip holes is not forgiving, people.

But it turns out—surprise surprise!—that Super Villains are not exactly great at following the rules. In fact, they see nothing but opportunity in times of crisis. So, yeah, Super Villain activity spiked real fast. Just in Venice Beach alone we were lousy with villains making trouble. I put up some personal bests as far as taking down jerks.

But…and here we get to the relevant leg bit. I was fighting Ladder Man and his ridiculous “stepstool minions” three days ago with Johnny and Ramone Watts, who most people know as Fuse and Alloy, brother and sister Super Heroes, who also happen to be two of my absolute favorite people on the planet. But I digress, Ladder Man, in a deeply Super Villain—deeply jerk move—broke my futzing leg. Small sidebar: he didn’t actually set my leg but I saw Doctor Mole at the hospital and that guy is just terrific, anyone that tells you he isn’t the best part of ‘The Mole Men of Los Angeles Reality Show’ is…well, they’re just plain wrong.

So. The Leg. Compound fracture. Healing time: 3 to 6 months. Total disaster.

And there we have it, after a solid little run of feeling like I was actually doing some good, I’m back to being stuck inside…can’t sew masks, can’t build websites, can’t donate blood, can’t donate money (did I mention I’m broke?), and can’t fight Super Villains. In fact, I’m more dependent than ever on the kindness of friends…and sometimes strangers…aka some guy that works in Ramone’s surf shop brought me a burrito today. Best burrito I’ve ever eaten. That man is a hero.

So I’m back to feeling useless. Or So. I. Thought.

Because the neighbor across the street from me is 100% a Super Villain and now I just have to convince Johnny that I’m right. This should go well. It starts when he finds that the floor by the window (and also his favorite jacket) are soaking wet.

“Kate, why is the floor all wet over here…and wait, what happened to my jacket?”

I wheel my seen-better-days wheelchair toward him, slightly sheepish, “Well. It’s a long story.”

“Ten words or less, please.”

“Ice arrow,” I say.

“All right. You can have more than ten words, explain.”

“I discovered that our neighbor across the street is a Super Villain, and in an attempt to expose him and thwart his evil plans I carved an arrow out of ice and shot it into his apartment.”

Johnny stares at me for a long moment, his mouth slightly open. “I have so many questions. Let’s start with why did you need an ice arrow? You have hundreds of arrows laying around, I am literally constantly getting stabbed by them.”

“Well, he’s got that huge window you see—with all those individual panes of glass. And I needed to break one of those panes…but I didn’t want there to be any evidence left behind that I had done that…so the ice arrow melts. Leaves nothing behind. Cool, right?”

“You learned this from a movie.” He says it. It’s not a question. I want to deny it but he knows me too well. Of course I learned it from a movie. He sighs, “I still don’t understand why it’s wet in here.”

“Well, carving an ice arrow is harder than you might think. A lot of trial and error.”

“Is that why you have eleventy billion Band-Aids on your hands?”

I forgot about the Band-Aids. I raise my hand, “Well, if you must know, some of them are from when I burned myself while making a grilled cheese sandwich earlier.”

“Okay, so you broke into this man’s house?”

I scrunch up my nose, “I feel like it’s more of a grey area than a clear break-in, but sure,” I shrug and shove a pair of binoculars at him, “Do me a favor though and take a good look.” Johnny raises the binoculars to his face and scans the villain’s apartment. A moment later he gasps and in excitement I do as well. “Did you see it!?”

He looks down at me, the binoculars still in his hands, “He has a whole huge closet full of …GASP!...toilet paper! DUN DUN DUN!” My smile fades. Johnny teases me, “Hoarding valuable supplies might make him a terrible member of his community, but I’m not sure it qualifies him as a Super Villain.”

I roll my eyes, “That’s not what you’re looking for dum-dum. Look again. To the left of the closet.”

Johnny scans again with the binoculars; I bump him, pushing the view left, “Left, I said!” After a long pause I can tell he’s found it, so I start babbling, “He’s got one of those creepy ‘Super Villain bulletin boards’ full of his plans—look there’s news articles, schematics, and notes all over…he’s even got little red strings connecting things!”

Johnny lowers the binoculars again, slowly this time. He looks over at me, expressionless and gesturing to the wall beside us, “You mean one of those crazy bulletin boards like this one of yours?”

I follow his gaze to my bulletin board and roll my eyes again, “Uh. That is clearly a crazy super hero bulletin board, not Super Villain. The differences are subtle but important.” His phone pings violently a few times and I try hard to talk over it, “For example my board has a bunch of low level thugs that I’m trying to tie to a bigger fish…whereas his board has the schematics of a local hospital, an insane number of articles on the pandemic, and--”

“Uh-huh,” he says unconvincingly while handing me back the binoculars, “Tell me this, Kate, if it’s really an evil bulletin board, why would he have it out in plain view…and with his shades wide open?”

I sit back in the chair, pleased with myself, “Well, you see, the bulletin board wasn’t visible. I saw just a peek of it last night when he was home looking at it…but then he covered it up with that drape when he left,” I gesture vaguely at the window and Fuse squints his eyes in that direction again. “And then this afternoon, after breaking the window pane with my first ice arrow, I used the second ice arrow to cut the cord to the drape. See how it’s fallen to the ground?”

Johnny squints at the apartment again, still not convinced. “So, you broke this man’s window and then wrecked some of his property because you saw the faintest hint of a Super Villain plan and--”

I interrupt him, waving my hands, “It doesn’t matter why I did it, I was right!”

Johnny glances down at his phone a finger raised that I should wait a moment. I huff out an impatient breath. When he’s done he looks at me. It’s a look full of kindness and compassion, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Maybe he’s just a doctor, Kate.”

I frown deeply. “What doctor has a villain board, let alone schematics of his hospital?”

Johnny smiles at me as his phone keeps pinging, “We can talk more about this later but don’t do anything, okay?” He kisses me on the forehead and walks away from me.

“Wait! You’re leaving?” I roll after him, sliiiightly desperate.

Johnny turns back to me, “Kate. I know you’re going stir crazy in here, but you need to channel yourself in another direction, you already wrecked this guy’s window, don’t push it. It’s too easy for your imagination to run wild with this, but you gotta reign it in before you do something you can’t take back,” Johnny glances at his phone again, “I have to go deal with this horrible thing in Malibu, but I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

I sigh, defeated. And jealous that he gets to leave and deal with something horrible. I wish I could go deal with something horrible.

After the door closes I turn back to the apartment across the street, staring at his crazy villain board through my binoculars. “Guess I’ll just deal with something horrible from here,” I say to myself dramatically.

Four hours and six pop-tarts later I’m struggling to stay awake at my post by the window when my phone pings, jolting me back to full consciousness. A text from Johnny, sent…45 minutes ago!

JOHNNY: Maybe you’re right. It IS weird that a doctor would have schematics of his hospital. I’ll swing by his place on my way home and feel him out a bit. *heart emoji*

“Ahhhhh!” I scream and reach clumsily for the binoculars, which promptly fall off my lap, with my phone. As I reach for them, the light clicks on across the street. My villain is home. I click off my only light and stare. Johnny might need the binoculars, but my eyesight is as good as it gets, I’m a futzing Hawkeye after all. But my eyes are best when I’m holding a bow, so I raise it and nock an arrow for good measure.

Tracking my villain across his apartment feels so right…and also a little bit wrong. What if I am wrong?

My villain looks with a wrinkled brow at his bulletin board, now naked and exposed in his apartment. He moves to the fallen drape and picks it up, confused. He crouches down and touches his carpet—probably still a bit wet from my second melted ice arrow. The crease in his brow deepens and his eyes narrow. He finally clocks the broken windowpane. He comes to the window and examines it. And then he just looks out the window. Directly at my apartment. But it’s dark here and I don’t move. It’s not my first day.

He squints his eyes and it feels like he’s looking right through me. I don’t even breathe. He eventually turns his head and I exhale lightly. But I can’t help but gasp when I see him open his front door to reveal Johnny. Handsome and kind and just trying to do the right thing. A smile in his eyes since his mask covers the one surely on his mouth. Due to the mask I can’t read Johnny’s lips, a skill the other Hawkeye, Clint Barton, has taught me, but I imagine it’s something adorable and heroic, as is Johnny’s way.

The villain gestures him inside and it’s all I can do not to scream. Johnny, being the polite, and very strong guy that he is, goes inside, unafraid and trusting. Before he can even get all the way inside the villain slams a comically huge vase over his head. Johnny is down. I curse his kindness. He could have walked in there made of futzing vibranium…but he probably didn’t want to scare the guy, so he went in made of stupid, highly vulnerable, bones and blood.

Well, my villain has picked the wrong guy to hit from behind with a heavy object. As the villain rifles around in a cabinet (probably looking for something evil), I don’t even hesitate to fire my already nocked arrow. It slams into the fabric of his dress shirt and pins his shirt to the cabinet with a satisfying THWACK. He yells and I can hear it from here thanks to the broken window. He spins wildly trying to see who’s attacking him while also trying to wrench himself free of the cabinet.

As I nock another arrow he manages to spin out of his shirt. Now free, he moves as fast as he can to get away from the windows. I fire my second arrow. It’s not for him.

This arrow crashes violently through not just glass but some of the wood that holds the panes together. It’s a catastrophic structure failure and leaves a gaping open hole to his apartment. My villain looks up from under the arms he was using to protect himself, which is when I release my third arrow. It sails into his apartment almost happily and when it hits some of his cabinetry with a sharp ping it explodes into a hail of lights, temporarily blinding him.

My villain scrambles to his feet and I fire the fourth arrow. It hits him right in the chest. As intended. Safety Foam arrow has a harmless tip and then explodes into a sticky ..well…”safety foam” that—without help—he’ll still be struggling to get out of in three days. I watch for long seconds as my villain struggles and cusses and Johnny remains passed out on his floor. But Johnny is bleeding pretty badly. I pull another arrow and fire it across the street into the wall of the building. I anchor the other end in my apartment.

I grab my phone, re-secure my mask and with a considerable amount of effort heft myself, broken leg and all, out of my apartment window and onto the secured cabling line. Fortunately the villain’s apartment is slightly lower than mine, so with some painful but efficient scooching, I’m able to use my bow and slide down the line straight into my villain’s apartment. I bump up against his building with an impressive but painful thud and sort of half-toss myself off the line and into the apartment. I clear most of the glass. Ouch.

I crawl across the floor as my villain cusses at me and squirms. “Oh, just shut up!” I finally say as I inch past him in his slightly crunchy and slightly sticky safety foam prison. I get to Johnny and yank a towel down off the counter and press it to his bleeding head. He groans, I think, appreciatively.

I lay down next to Johnny, exhausted but pleased. I keep the towel pressed to his head and pull out my mobile phone and dial my very good friend that doesn’t think I’m annoying at all, Detective Rivera.

“Bishop. The world is in extreme crisis, make it fast.”

“I need you to come here…and bring an ambulance, I airdropped you my location.”

There’s a long pause, “This is across the street from your apartment. What have you done?”

“Saved the day, as per usual. I’m making a citizen’s arrest…or an off-duty Super Hero arrest—whatever, you can decide what the paperwork situation is—annnnyway, I am arresting this villain across the street from me that not only hit Johnny with a very heavy vase but also has detailed plans in his apartment about blowing up the hospital…apparently as a way of…” I roll my eyes and raise my voice, “…stopping the virus…is that right, sir?” My villain bangs his head lightly on the floor. He hates me.

Rivera sighs deeply on the other end, “Ambulance is on its way, Bishop. Walk me through the whole thing.”

“Well, you see, Rivera, it all began with this idea I had about ice arrows…”

                                                     FIN

[halfwayt0sanity]

I met Andi in 1977 at the Hockey Club THC Mettmann in the Zweite-Herren — men's second division. Andi was also allowed to play in the first division, he was a good striker. I, on the other hand, was a goalkeeper in the second division. I didn't think it was so bad to play in the second division because they drank more alcohol than those in the first division, who took the sport very seriously. After training, the older guys used to buy rounds of beer, the two of us never had to pay for anything. I regularly rode home from the club on a small motorcycle that leaned sideways, which I inherited from my brother Mike. My father was worried that the sport would cause blood circulation problems to his boy.

The motorcycle thing was less dangerous than it sounds. My small Fantic motorcycle only reached 23 km/h since Mini Frielinghaus tried to increase the previous top speed of a dishonorable 45 km/h by improving it. Mini only said: "It's an Italian model. Nothing can be done."

The second problem with the motorcycle was that it wasn't a normal size, but rather it seemed to be made for children. It had very small wheels and was painted in candy color, snail's pace no longer made a big difference. When Andi and I came back from training, he used to ride his bike faster. He lived in Schillerstraße street, less than 500 metres from my house. We visited each other almost every afternoon and I showed him my new vinyls. As I went to school in Düsseldorf, I had an advantage over my friends from Mettmann when it came to music. My trusted salesman, from the Rock On vinyl store on Schadow Street, received new merchandise direct from London every Friday. The tall Wolla would then reach over his counter bar and whisper confidentially: "Hey Andreas, the new Devo stuff arrives in yellow vinyl next Friday, there's only 1000 copies. Shall I reserve one for you?"

The new Devo stuff in yellow? Not bad; on the other hand, I still needed Fulham Fallout by The Lurkers and I only had 20 DM left until next month. I helped my mother at home by picking blackcurrants, increased my budget to 30 DM and bought both vinyls. The very limited yellow copies of Devo remained in the shop for three more years and were soon available at half price.

On the other hand, Andi and I — two kids with acne and spiky hairstyles. We dyed each other's hair with cheap dyes, which we found in the supermarket and always made us look sick. We were never accompanied by girls, but always by our Ramones vinyls in plastic bags. Maybe we were boys to look twice, but Mettmann's girls never looked at you a second time.

For the summer vacations of 1979, we got BritRail tickets, which we used to travel free of charge on every train in Britain. As much as we had been planning the trip for weeks, it wasn't until two hours before departure that I started packing my backpack. Obviously, half of the clothes, which I put in at the last minute, turned out to be useless in the end. Can opener, corkscrew, cutlery, toothpaste — all that I had to borrow from Andi. Anyway, I packed my father's very old four-person tent, which he probably still had from the Second World War. Unfortunately, at the train station in Düsseldorf, the tent turned out to be too heavy, so we left it lying on the platform.

We wanted to travel throughout England at all costs. Our stated goal was to see as many Punk bands in as short a time as possible. After getting off the ferry at Dover and passing through security checkpoint, we went to the nearest newsagent to buy the New Musical Express, which was the best weekly music magazine in England. Unlike German music magazines like BRAVO or Musikexpress, the NME, as it was called, had a serious newspaper format. It was our reliable compass in the sea of new Punk bands constantly emerging from England. You could also get the NME in Düsseldorf at the train station, but the newest issue was always the previous week's edition.

On the train from Dover to London, we opened the most important page for us: Nationwide Gig Guide, to find out which band was playing when and where. The Piranhas in Brighton on Monday, UK Subs in Leeds on Tuesday, The Extras in London on Wednesday, Adam & The Ants in York on Thursday, Sham 69 in London again on Saturday, etc. In the capital, the Punk movement was leaving its peak behind and the first bands, such as the Sex Pistols, had already broken up again. In other cities, things were just getting started.

Punks with their radical attitude to class struggle contrasted staunchly and with vociferous resistance to "Maggie" Thatcher's Britain. Punk was perceived worldwide, but in the late '70s it was a very English and thoroughly political issue. They shouted No future against the Hippie slogan Love & Peace. The concerts weren't meant to be just nice evenings with music, they served as a meeting place for those who were disgruntled. Not only with their lives, but with everything: the lousy job, the shitty flat, the incomprehension of their parents shaking their heads. They wanted to fight against all that, no matter how they sang: No more heroes and Do something. They started occupying buildings and founding organisations such as Rock against Racism and the Anti Nazi League. In 1977, that stance hit me like a bombshell. I felt like a blind man who could suddenly see. I went to the hairdresser, paid 5 DM, got my hair cut and took part.

Our clothes were our uniform and sympathisers recognised each other immediately, even if they had never seen each other before.

Sitting on the London Underground with Andi, we were approached by a group of Punks: "Alright, lads? You got some fags?"

"Sorry, we're not smoking...", Andi replied. We struck up a conversation with the group and one of them asked where we were going. His hair was shaved and dyed leopard print and he wore an angry red leather jacket.

"To the Rainbow to see Sham 69.", I replied.

"To see Sham? Are you crazy? A bunch of Skinheads from the National Front announced their presence tonight and there's going to be a lot of fuss. Come with us. We're going out to Ashford to see the UK Subs. We'll all be there tonight." As intimidated as we were, Andi and I didn't hesitate for too long.

"No, thanks. We have to go there today.", I replied. Another guy shook his head and said: "Don't do it... but it's your decision. We warned you. If you change your mind, just go later. The Subs take the stage at nine p.m."

They got off the train at the next station and Andi and I continued alone to Finsbury Park, where the Rainbow Theatre was. Sham 69 was one of my favourite bands. Unfortunately, they decided to split up. It became impossible for them to do a show without massive violent fights because also the Skinhead scene demanded Sham and their singer Jimmy Pursey for themselves. That's why during the shows there were real battles for the band. Pursey and his musicians tried to pacify the groups and came up with a song called If the Kids are United, but the attempt failed brutally. Before long, Sham 69 had the same problem as English football clubs at the stadiums. This didn't detract from their legend.

"Andi, if they end up killing us over there... We have to see that band once in our lives. I'd never forgive myself if we don't go now because we're cowards."

"I'm going with you.", Andi replied and with that he anticipated the future credo of the Hosen Alle oder keiner (Everyone or no one), and so we hesitantly walked along Seven Sisters Road to the Rainbow Theatre. Originally, this theatre had been a gigantic cinema with a capacity of almost three thousand spectators. There were already a lot of people outside: Skins, Rockers, also ordinary people, but, as the guy in the underground had predicted, unfortunately very few Punks. We picked up our tickets at the pre-sale and passed through the entrance control without any problems. All quiet so far. I thought nothing could happen to us once we were inside. The security at the Rainbow was going to keep an eye on things.

How wrong I was! As much as they had a bunch of tough guys and boxers among them, security guards didn't even stand a chance. The night got off to a quiet start. A band called The Low Numbers put in a lot of effort, but the disinterested people stayed at the beer stands and preferred to sing football chants. Andi and I stood downstairs in the centre of the room, above us was a huge balcony packed with fans and sometimes a glass of beer would fly down. Good mood.

Until Sham 69 took the stage and all hell broke loose. Right in front of the stage everyone was moshing, but only a few metres further back, in the dark part of the hall, wild fights broke out, in which different groups were involved. Sometimes, the ones who were downstairs tried to storm the balcony and the ones who were upstairs jumped to the ground floor and made their way to the stage, punches were flying everywhere.

Escaping to the exit now seemed impossible, all the ways were blocked. The only ones who seemed to remain untouchable in this mess were a group of biker-rockers, who apparently nobody wanted to mess with. Fifteen to twenty people, long hair, leather caps, thick rings on their fingers and easily ten years older than anyone here. They were standing relaxed with their girlfriends in the background against a wall and watching what was going on calmly and in anticipation.

Andi and I stood next to them and struck up a conversation with one of them. He had tattooed neck and arms and was 6'2" tall. We tried to look like we belonged to their group. Surely they must have found it amusing.

"It's a bit of a rough evening, isn't it? We're from Germany, we don't know what's going on." The rocker smiled at us. Big crooked teeth, also some golden ones among them. He inmediately understood what was going on. "You stay with us, mate.", he said and put us behind him and among his friends.

All around us, panic was spreading. After five songs, in the middle of Hersham Boys, the band had to stop their show. Jimmy Pursey shouted into the microphone for them to stop fighting and left the stage with his band. The situation calmed down for a moment, the thugs seemed hesitant: punching or live music? After that pause and a few more messages, Sham 69 tried to continue with their show. Hardly had they reached the second chorus and it was all one big massive battle again.

Jimmy Pursey angrily shouted: "We tried to give you everything. You fucking cunts will never understand! You fucking ruined it all!"

He turned around, ripped the drum off the bottom of the drum kit and threw it into the crowd. Chaos! They pulled down an iron curtain in front of the stage, security guards took cover at the back, the fights in the hall continued and slowly moved outside.

At an opportune moment, Andi and I said goodbye to the rockers and ran through the emergency exits, into the street and to the underground station, but the police had already closed it as a precaution. We kept running down the street until we could get on a bus, which stopped at a traffic light. Behind us, there were still chase scenes, but we had made it. A skinhead, who was also at the concert, got on the bus with us. Apparently, he wanted nothing to do with the trouble.

He gasped: "What a waste. It was Arsenal against Chelsea fans. The gooners won." Apparently, the Arsenal Skins wouldn't tolerate Chelsea fans on their turf. Andi and I looked at each other shaking our heads. Maybe we should have gone with the London Punks to see the UK Subs, but then we had to laugh at ourselves. Sham 69 — we saw them!

However, from now on only Punk shows, no Skinheads, please, because it was always like that, no matter where we went, we always felt part of a group. Among us Punks there was an implicit solidarity, also in this context was Us and them, us against all the others, as I got to know later at away games in football. As soon as a patrol car turned the corner to check on us, the whole group gathered closer together, closing ranks. We knew that if they tried to take just one of us, we would all be in the same bag.

As we wanted to invest all our money in concert tickets and vinyls, unfortunately there was no money planned for accommodation in the budget. We planned to have my father's tent. We had to get a new one in London, an early blow to our travel savings. Over the next few weeks, the new and much lighter tent went into action in various places: on a golf course in Scotland, in the front garden of a house in Brighton or in York City Park — even though the Yorkshire Ripper, the serial killer, supposedly was around at the time.

A good alternative to the tent was to sleep on trains. We once went on the Flying Scotsman to Edinburgh, only to return to London the same night. That way we also went to Liverpool, where we stayed at the station for a few hours. Lime Street Station was the first, and for the moment the only, thing I knew of Liverpool. To explore the city, we lacked the money, and neither talk about having to watch a football match, plus it was summer and football was in recess.

So we took a train back to the south and slept for a few hours. We brushed our teeth and the most important things of personal hygiene in public toilets, that's why we preferred cities on the coast, where the conditions usually were better. Sometimes, we also went to the sea and had breakfast on the beach. Our breakfast was white bread and jam for 14 days, but Andi dropped the jar of jam on the sand on the second day and, as we didn't want to invest two precious pounds to buy another one, from now on it crunched between our teeth when we chewed it. Two pounds could have been two vinyl "Singles" in a Record-&-Tape-Exchange shop. After the trip, I didn't eat any more jam for many years.

There were also days when no band we were interested in was playing in the whole of Britain. On those days, we spent our time with a very special game: In the morning, we would bet on where we would end the night and whoever's bet got closest to the destination train station, which we had chosen by rolling a dice, would win. There were tough negotiations.

Andi: I'll bet my new Single Tommy Gun by The Clash on Exeter. If I win, I get your Buzzcocks."

Me: "Are you crazy? Buzzcocks? It's limited. If you win, I'll give you la Cortinas — that's enough! Anyway, we're going to end up in Ipswich."

So we sat on the platform. Two teenagers from Germany wearing torn t-shirts and carrying heavy backpacks and big bags with vinyls inside. We took two dice, first to sort out the platform we were going to get on and then the number of stops we were going to travel. So, sometimes, we ended up taking the slow, regional train to a suburb of London, nothing more, but it also took us to the north of Scotland, to Inverness. The lightness of simple being.

From Campino's book 'Hope Street: Wie ich einmal englischer Meister wurde' (2020)

[ao3feed-supercorp]

The Juniors

by ciancitto123

They were overwhelmed, tired, and beaten. They had fought so hard, yet more of them came. They were indestructible unless you hit the weak spot under its chin, a narrow opening. It wreaked of death, shot lasers from its eyes, and had kryptonite knives for hands. All the teams had been called in to help, but it didn’t do any good. They were still losing. Almost everyone who was still alive was there fighting to their last breath.

The Juniors, as Sara had dubbed them, were all suited up to help their parents fight the best way they knew how. They had a half-baked plan and an inter-dimensional portal that would take them back before this happened. A time and place when they would have time to figure out how to beat these monsters and their leaders. The only problem was simultaneously talking to their parents and avoiding blasting themselves out of the time stream. They'd heard plenty of Barry's stories about messing up the timeline throughout their lives. They had to be better.

Words: 5946, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Supergirl (TV 2015), The Flash (TV 2014), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Arrow (TV 2012)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other

Characters: Kara Danvers, Alex Danvers, Lena Luthor, Winn Schott Jr., Lucy Lane (DCU), J'onn J'onzz | Hank Henshaw, Maggie Sawyer, Agent Vasquez (Supergirl TV 2015), Barry Allen, Iris West, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow, Cindy Reynolds (The Flash TV 2014), Joe West, Nora West-Allen, Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, John Diggle (DCU), Lyla Michaels, Sara Lance, Ray Palmer, Nora Darhk, Mick Rory, Wally West, John Constantine, Amaya Jiwe, Zari Tomaz | Zari 1.0, Ava Sharpe, Gary Green, Eliza Danvers, Lillian Luthor, Ra's al Ghul, Joker (DCU), Reverse Flash, Darkseid (DCU)

Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers/Sara Lance, Barry Allen/Iris West, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Lucy Lane/Agent Vasquez, John Diggle/Lyla Michaels, Winn Schott Jr./Lyra Strayd, Cisco Ramon/Cindy Reynolds, Nora Darhk/Ray Palmer, Amaya Jiwe/Zari Tomaz | Zari 1.0, Eliza Danvers/J'onn J'onzz | Hank Henshaw

Additional Tags: Past Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer, Past Ronnie Raymond/Caitlin Snow, Crossover, Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Useless Lesbians, Oblivious, Denial of Feelings, Tags Are Fun, Secret Children

from AO3 works tagged 'Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor' https://ift.tt/FJWsOrn via IFTTT https://ift.tt/FJWsOrn

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Sick Day

Note: Remember when Alonsonaomi was a thing. I made a thing. Enjoy!

“I want to die,” Alonso sniffed 

Naomi patted his shoulder with an indulgent smile, and pulled the blanket over the curled body of her boyfriend. “Somehow I think you’ll find the strength within you to keep fighting. It’s just a cold.” 

“Jusb a cold? This night be a flu, it’s worsede. Like a million colds at once!” Alonso groaned, swiveling his head dramatically, causing the bangs to flop over his eye. A clear sign that he was sick that he didn’t bother to sweep it off. Suddenly he sat up. 

“Whab about you! Your job!” He cried

Naomi brushed a stray hair out of his face for him a smile creeping on her face as she looked. Even though his skin was ashen, his usually bouncy brunette hair limp and stringy, his eyes were bloodshot and his nose was as stuffed as a toy, she thought he was still cute. Maybe not physically but his concern for her time and her work was endearing. 

But the matter was that even though she maintained her independence, her ambassadorships and travels, since dating Alonso, Elena allowed her more flexibility to allow her time to make this long distance relationship work. Including times like these, caring for Alonso.

Now Alonso was almost a grown man but he was practically useless when he was sick. Physically unable to get out of bed, utterly useless. He couldn’t even get lunch without his servants, take his medicine or get tissues. King Ramon said he was always like that when he was sick and it clearly hadn’t changed over the years. 

Naomi didn’t indulge such childish antics except for an extreme case. Alonso was correct he had the flu, two nights ago, but it had broke by now. She was doing this because he still wasn’t up to his normal strength, and-she’d never admit this outloud- but she thought he was sweet when he was sick. Not when he was refusing to swallow his medicine and such, but the grateful smiles he gave her that he truly appreciated her time. Sometimes falling asleep together when she sang. It was an oddly peaceful time. 

“I’m gonna make you some food that will help clear your sinuses. You stay here and try to go to sleep,” Naomi told him. Alonso did so, burying his head under the pillow with a loud moan. 

When she came back from chopping sage and thyme, Alonso had fallen off the bed and was staring dazedly at the wall. 

“Nadomi, fuddy ting. I can’d ged up,” Alonso said. She could swear the stuffiness was getting worse. 

She placed the bowl of piping chicken soup that the cook had made on the dresser and swept him up in an army lift Gabe taught her in self-defense. She gently placced him into the bed, rearranged the pillows and pulled the blanket over again, and made sure the tissue box was close by. 

“Here, some soup.” She handed the bowl and he managed a wry grin. 

“Danks!” He took a slurp and spewed it across the bed, violently coughing. 

“Sorry! I did’d mean do!” Esteban cried, getting off the bed to start wiping the blanket when he dizzily fell again. 

“Alonso rest. I got this,” Naomi insisted, gently shoving him back to the pillows so she could strip the sheets and wrangle up new blankets from the back of the closet. Where Alonso only mildly shivered when left without his comforter for a minute. He learned two sick days ago that she wouldn’t put up with complaining when they both knew she was helping him. 

Well, maybe one or two complaints slipped. 

“Jou devil woman! Jour are drill tryin’ do kill me,” Alonso mock-glared when he was seized by another harsh sneeze. 

Naomi simply shook her head when she shook the cough medicine bottle, “This will help ease the burning feeling and some of the stuffiness.” “Tank you!” He croaked

Naomi put a finger to his lips despite the germs, “Rest your voice.” “Bud I like talkging wid jou. Jour inderesing. More than the wall,” He smiled. 

Naomi turned away but knew Alonso could see her bite her lips as the ends curled up into a half-smile. Another reason that she became his semi-reluctant caretaker. 

They got to talk together. Brief conversations that Alonso sometimes fell asleep in the middle of, but it was nice nonetheless. It was usually mundane reminisces or stories of olden sick days but it was a pleasing pastime. 

Naomi put a hand to his forehead and smiled at him once more, seeing how his eyes were drooping closed despite Alonso’s efforts to remain upright and awake. To continue to try talking to her, “You’re less hot. So you’ll probably be better soon. And you’re not going to die.” 

“Good,” Alonso said, “Bud I’m glad jou were here wid me if I did.” “Me too,” Naomi softly whispered, “I better go now. Hopefully, you’ll feel better when you’re awake.” “I will be. I alwayd wand to be wid jou,” Alonso smiled, drifting off at last. 

[mondoradiowmse]

12/25/24 Mondo Radio Playlist

Here's the playlist for this week's special edition of Mondo Radio, which you can download or stream here. This episode: "Everything's Gonna Be Cool This Christmas" - A Very Mondo Xmas 2024 (Part 2)! If you dig these crazy carols be sure to also follow the show on Facebook and Twitter!

Artist - Song - Album

Ramma Lamma - Gimme Gimme Gimme Gimme - Gimme Gimme Gimme Gimme (Single)

Tyler Chicorel Feat. Ashley Smith - Give It All Away - Give It All Away (Single)

Space Raft - Another Holiday Is Here - Another Holiday Is Here (Single)

The Midwest Beat - That's What Christmas Means To Me - That's What Christmas Means To Me (Single)

The Fireflies - Pretty Christmas - The Fireflies Tackle Your Christmas Tree

Eels - Everything's Gonna Be Cool This Christmas - Useless Trinkets: B-Sides, Soundtracks, Rarities And Unreleased 1996-2006

Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers - Christmas All Over Again - A Very Special Christmas 2

Gordon Gano Feat. Cynthia Gayneau - Merry Christmas Brother - Hitting The Ground

Daniel Johnston - Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer - You Sleigh Me!

R. Stevie Moore - Danse Des Mirlitons - The Tarquin Records All Star Holiday Extravaganza!

Heidecker & Wood - Christmas Suite - Starting From Nowhere

Jack Black - Oh Hanukkah - Hanukkah +

Amil Byleckie - Whats In The Bag (Old Man)? - Good Angels Guard Thee

SpongeBob SquarePants - Don't Be A Jerk (It's Christmas) - Merry Nickmas

The Bill Shepherd Singers - Christmas In Killarney - Irish Sing-Along

Bob & Doug McKenzie - Twelve Days Of Christmas - Great White North

Heather Noel - Santa Came On A Nuclear Missile - The American Song-Poem Christmas: Daddy, Is Santa Really Six Foot Four?

Monty Python - Christmas In Heaven - Monty Python Sings

Spın̈al Tap - Christmas With The Devil (Scratch Mix) - Spın̈al Tap

James White And The Blacks - Christmas With Satan - Off White

Henry Rollins - 'Twas The Night Before Christmas - O Come All Ye Faithful: Rock For Choice

William Shatner Feat. Henry Rollins - Jingle Bells (Punk Rock Version) - Shatner Claus: The Christmas Album

The Misfits - Island Of Misfit Toys - Horror Xmas

Ramones - Merry Christmas (I Don't Want To Fight Tonight) - Brain Drain

Root Boy Slim & The Sex Change Band With The Rootettes - Xmas At K-Mart - Just Can't Get Enough: New Wave Xmas

Dungeon Broads Feat. Jacob Berendes - O Christmas Tree - A Very Messy Holiday

The Flaming Lips - Little Drummer Boy (Live) - Heady Nuggs: 20 Years After Clouds Taste Metallic 1994-1997

Wooden Shjips - O Tannenbaum - Holiday Cassingle (Single)

Imagene Peise - White Christmas (Binson Echorec Sleigh Ride) - Atlas Eets Christmas

Kate Bush - December Will Be Magic Again - The Other Sides

Prince - Another Lonely Christmas - The Hits/The B-Sides

Pet Shop Boys - It Doesn't Often Snow At Christmas (Fan Club Mix) - Nightlife: Further Listening 1996-2000

Erasure - The Christmas Song - Snow Globe

Kylie With Iggy Pop - Christmas Wrapping - Kylie Christmas

Run-DMC - Christmas In Hollis - Greatest Hits

The 69 Boyz, Quad City DJ's And K-Nock - What You Want For Christmas - Quad City All Star Christmas