#snipes at 70 be like

[sewerdraws]

Texts you get at 11:12 PM as a french spy

original under cut

[angstandhappiness]

Neat

Winter Break in Kansas [80s AU] 1/2

Bruce bade goodbye to Tommy and Harvey without telling them anything of his own plans for the holiday break.

(....both of them looked gaunt. Holidays hadn’t even begun. They didn’t muster much enthusiasm for the goodbye, and Bruce didn’t make them.)

He didn’t put on the hat or scarf until they were a good distance out of the building, where the other two wouldn’t see, and bundled himself up unrecognizably as best he could.

Nodded.

“Let’s go.”

--

Clark slung his backpack over his shoulder and started down the stairs where they could get a cab to the bus stop.

“Have you ever been to Kansas before?”

--

Bruce shook his head.

“No,” he said, tugging out a few dollars from his pocket and shoving them towards Clark.

He’d pay.

--

Clark took them without argument after seeing how that worked during Halloween.

Into the cab they went.

“Don’t blame you. Nothin’ there.” He joked, and away they went.

A cab to the bus station.

Then the bus to Kansas.

It would be a day’s ride.

--

Bruce had packed books.

...they had agreed, even if silently and grudgingly, that they would just have to give up on their research for the duration of the break.

...on the up side, they would finally have a little time to read what they wanted to, at least.

He tugged out two crime thrillers, passing one to Clark, along with one of the lunches-to-go he’d bought at the cafeteria for the trip.

For the first hour or so, he sat up primly, despite his disguise.

And then, as the bus ride kept going…

He tugged his legs up under himself and curled up in the seat with his book, letting himself lean a little into Clark’s shoulder when the seat was cramped, finally looking content.

--

Clark let him lean into him as much as he wanted, especially considering the crampedness of the seats.

He read a little and ate some of their packed lunch, and then for a lot of the ride he dozed. Riding in a bus or car had that constant hum that drowned a lot out that was easy to focus on and sleep to. It was better than the erratic noise of the city, that was for sure.

As they went on, the bus taking occasional breaks at rest stops, the hills died down and things became increasingly flat.

And then, early the next morning, they pulled in to their stop.

“Here we are.” Clark mumbled, grabbing their bags from overhead and passing Bruce his as they climbed off.

--

...it was surreal.

Absolutely surreal.

For someone like Bruce who had grown up with always something blocking the horizon, the sheer flatness of the world around him left him feeling a little… disoriented.

Vulnerable, even.

But he kept the hat and scarf on, holding his bags and exhausted from the bumpy ride, and followed Clark closely as he climbed off the bus.

--

Clark barely had to even look around before he motioned for Bruce to follow, ducking around the other people climbing off the bus. He went right to an old station wagon with a man stood leaning on the hood, arms crossed to keep in the warmth and an old truckers cap on his head. When he saw them he stood and waved.

“Hey Pa.” Clark smiled, and hugged him as a woman with dirty blonde hair opened the door and stepped out of the passenger side.

“There’s my baby boy.” She cooed, already grabbing Clark and kissing his cheeks while he groaned and protested.

“You must be Bruce?” Jon said, extending a rough hand towards him. “You can call me Jon. Clark’s father.”

His face was sun scorned and wrinkled less from age and more from working outside every day of his life, his hair cut short and dark brown.

--

He had that feeling again. Like he was floating, somewhere else entirely, only partly aware of what was happening in front of him. Only sort-of involved.

It was a familiar one, even if school sometimes lessened it. Sometimes.

He was hoping it would leave if he left Gotham. But here it was. Right away. Watching Clark run to his mother or her run to him, and his dad, and hugging--

He took the father’s hand, shook it, and said, “Bruce Wayne,” in the voice that was bigger than he felt in his head.

--

“So Clark tells me. Quite the name back out East.” He said, giving Bruce a firm handshake.

When Martha was finished embarrassing her son she walked over to Bruce. “I'm Martha, now let's get you boys where it's warm.” She put an arm around Bruce and gestured for him to get into the back where Clark was already piling in.

--

Oh.

He felt dizzy. And tight. His jaw tightened the smile onto his face to keep it there, even as his heartbeat rocketed up, until it was pounding in his ears.

(Waking nightmare)

He stumbled forward over his own feet, but followed where the arm took him, same as he did when Alfred started trying to guide him away from paparazzi anytime they glimpsed him. Anytime they got an excuse.

He held his bag tight and piled in beside Clark, regretting every step that took him to this conclusion.

--

While his parents got back in Clark looked over at Bruce with concern. His heart was like a drum suddenly.

“You okay?” he whispered.

--

Bruce’s face had fallen into a brutal neutrality once the eyes weren’t on him anymore. Blank and stiff.

But he nodded faintly, lying.

--

“... Okay.” Clark said, not believing it at all, but not prying further.

“So is it just as cold out there as it is here?” His dad asked.

Typical banter.

--

Him. It was him. He was being talked to.

Talk.

“Haven’t been here long enough to say,” Bruce said, lost somewhere over the horizon with no buildings to stop him.

--

“It’s colder in Gotham.” Clark added as they started to move once everyone was buckled up.

“We’re pretty tired from the trip though. Is the guest room ready?”

“Oh yeah it’s all waiting for you. Will you two want breakfast or you gonna collapse into bed?” Martha asked.

--

“Bed,” Bruce managed, even though he knew he should’ve said more than that.

But in his head he was already at a family breakfast. Staring at them over a meal. Having to talk more before he could think or control his heart or breathe and actually feel it filling his lungs, not just faintly keeping him conscious by a thread.

--

“Yeah we’re beat.” Clark said, although he wasn’t very tired. This was mostly for Bruce’s sake.

“We’ll just get some rest and then we can have lunch and stuff, okay?”

“Okay, that sounds good. I still need to run out and grab a few things anyway.” Martha said, and with that the conversation would taper off and away from the boys.

Clark did pass a look over to Bruce though, just to check on him.

--

...gradually, Bruce’s heartbeat started to slow again as the conversation moved away, and he didn’t have to drag himself to pay attention to it. Didn’t live scared of the response he missed. He could just stare blankly forwards and hover for a while.

But that was it, too.

He just… hovered.

The usual awareness wasn’t in his eyes. And he knew it wasn’t there.

And the part of him that wasn’t in front, that wasn’t keeping them in society, breathing, not being kicked out of the car of the only people he knew for miles and miles--

That part of him was screaming. A sound not even Clark could hear.

Wake up. Pay attention. It’ll happen while you’re not paying attention. It’s going to go wrong. If you don’t pay attention everything will go wrong.

But he couldn’t drag himself to the front yet.

He couldn’t do it that fast.

--

They drive for awhile before turning into a tiny little town that was just starting to wake up, and then they even drove away from that and down long barren roads onto a long dirt driveway, the farmhouse soon coming into view.

“Home sweet home.” Jon said as he pulled up to a stop.

“We’re here, Bruce.” Clark said quietly, trying to get his attention so they could climb out of the car.

--

It helped. His name. Instruction.

He shuffled out of the car, pulling his backpack back on, and at the very least managed to glance at the small farmhouse and and and

(he counted exits)

Before following Clark inside, looking dazed.

Like he did definitely need the bed.

--

“I’ll show Bruce to his room, he’s pretty wiped.” Clark said, leading his friend up the steps and… maybe putting an arm around his shoulders to guide him a little better.

“It’s up the steps. C’mon.”

--

He made a small confirming sound at his name, and

Arm.

Followed the arm. Pressed into it.

(Tommy guided him like this, sometimes. Alfred did. Away from the worst of things. Back to the manor, or their room, or--)

He was lost in three places at once. The farmhouse here, and the manor, and the academy and coming out of the alleyway under a policeman’s coat.

But he could make it up the stairs, and be guided to the guest room, at the very least.

--

Clark got him up the steps, paused only for a moment to point at the bathroom. “Bathroom is here. And this is the guest room.”

He opened it up to reveal a very old, dated looking bed with an empty dresser and bedside table with a lamp. Floral comforter and frilled pillow cover.

“Sorry it’s… very grandma.” He huffed. “But, uh, you get comfortable. You want something to drink?”

--

Looked fine. Normal, even.

He shook his head.

“...how long?” he asked.

--

“... How long what?”

--

...fuck. The word. Didn’t she say lunch?

“Til lunch,” he said.

How long to recover.

--

“Oh, like, uh… you still got awhile. It’s only eight right now so four hours? Ish? And if you need to chill in here longer you can.” Clark said, looking at an old clock over the door.

--

Four hours sounded like both an eternity and no time at all.

Bruce set down his bag and nodded, not sure what to say.

Not sure how to ask to start.

Alone.

Rest.

Privacy.

Please.

--

“I'm gonna bring you something to drink and then you can sleep or whatever.” Clark said, turning away and heading downstairs.

He came back a moment later with a cup of warm tea.

“Here. Just yell if you need anything.”

And then he would leave Bruce to recover.

--

“Okay. Thanks,” he said, letting the hot tea sit.

...he held it in his hands.

….the heat helped.

He could smell it.

...once he was alone, he closed his eyes and sat on the floor, holding the cup between his hands and just… breathing it in deeply.

He took a drink. Followed the heat as it traveled down his throat.

….

It was sort of like Alfred’s tea.

Two places, now. Only lost in two. That was manageable.

A little more color came back to him. He finished the tea. The cup cooled and it didn’t help anymore. But he was a little better.

...he didn’t have the energy to do much, though.

So he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the unfamiliar bed, biting down on his hand as hard as he could, and once all he could think about was his hand, he closed his eyes on the pillow and let go.

And he would go to sleep.

And in four hours, he would be fine again.

--

In four hours or so, Clark would knock on his door.

“Bruce? You awake? We're gonna have some lunch now.”

--

There was a jump in heartrate as Bruce jerked awake, but he still understood well enough what had been said to him.

“Y-yeah-- just let me get to the bathroom.”

--

“Okay, just come down to the kitchen when you're ready.” Clark said, leaving him be. His footsteps could be heard going down the stairs.

--

...Bruce waited until the footsteps were down the stairs and a little fainter before crawling out of bed.

His clothing was wrinkled from sleeping in it.

He grabbed a new shirt and set of pants, and folded the two he’d been wearing on the bus. Grabbed his comb.

Bathroom.

He washed his face and combed his hair back, the way he always wore it, unless he ended up shoved under a John Deere hat. Made sure his shirt was flat and his clothing straight. Tied his shoes back on.

He hurried down the stairs.

This time, he was Braced for It.

--

Now that he was more aware of his surroundings he could take in the details.

Worn furniture. Warm. Lived in. Family pictures on the mantle over the TV that was playing The Price Is Right. Noises from the kitchen.

Clark and Martha were there, Clark over a bowl of soup and Martha watching the TV from her position in front of the stove.

“Well don't you look nice.” she grinned. “You hungry?”

--

Maybe ironically, Bruce wasn’t used to being complimented on his appearance.

Maybe because he grew up with Alfred, and he was wearing the bare minimum to please Alfred.

“Thanks,” he said, voice a little steadier than it had been that morning. “Yes, ma’am.”

--

“You like chicken corn soup?” She asked.

Clark was eating the same thing that was on the stove in a large pot; a homemade soup with bits of chicken, corn, and other things to make a hearty, white soup.

Without being asked Clark got up and started to get Bruce something to drink.

--

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it before,” he said honestly, watching Clark out of the corner of his eye.

--

“Well if you don't like it you don't have to eat it, okay?” Martha said, getting out a bowl and filling it with soup. She set it down in front of him with a spoon.

“We got tea, milk, or OJ.” Clark said, looking over at Bruce.

--

“Thank you,” he said again, sitting where she set it, and glanced back at Clark. “Tea?”

“...oh. I forgot the cup upstairs--”

--

“That's okay, just bring it down later.” Martha said.

“This is iced tea, but if you want more hot tea I can make that too.” Clark said, pulling out the jug to show Bruce.

--

Bruce blinked blankly at him, as if just confronted with something he had no idea about.

“Iced tea?”

--

The two looked at each other like Bruce was the alien.

Clark poured him a glass of iced tea and set it in front of him.

“Wondered why I didn't see it anywhere at school.”

--

Bruce looked down at the cup like it was a challenge.

“...”

He kept eye contact with Clark as he sipped it.

--

It didn't taste anything like hot tea. It was sweet with a tiny hint of lemon.

Clark stared him right back.

“... Well?”

--

…

Bruce stared down at it.

“...I think I felt one of Alfred’s ancestors disown me just now,” he said, and took another sip.

--

Clark laughed, “But do you like it?”

--

Bruce nodded.

“It’s good.”

It was a little like a flat soda, almost?

--

“Good.” Clark grinned and sat back down to finish eating. Martha looked to be scooping the soup that was left over into freezing containers and labeling them.

“You gonna give Bruce a tour of the farm when you're done?”

Clark looked over at him, “You want one?”

--

“Sure?” Bruce said, “Whatever the plan is.”

He had no idea if there even was a plan. He’d focused so hard on getting here he wasn’t really sure what to do otherwise.

Even Clark had admitted there wasn’t much to do besides bowling.

So his only plan right now was to run with manners and hope it got him somewhere.

He ate the soup and drank the tea, not finding it quite his taste, but eating and finishing it all the same.

--

Clark didn't really have a plan either. He had just heard his friend had what sounded like a really lonely holiday and invited him along.

So they finished their soup and set the dishes in the sink before bundling up to take the tour.

“You ever been on a farm?” He asked while walking down the front steps. The third one creaked.

--

He followed Clark’s lead. Ran upstairs to bring down the cup and wrap his own scarf (thick and dark) around his neck as they headed out.

“Gardens don’t count?” he asked rhetorically. “Then no.”

--

Clark chuckled, “No. Gardens don’t count.”

A man was pulled up in their driveway in a tractor with a plow hooked to the front talking to his dad, and Clark waved but didn’t go over. Instead he lead Bruce towards the barn.

“All the corn is down now since it’s winter, but we still got the cows I can show ya.”

--

Bruce nodded, following along behind him.

“Okay?”

He’d never seen a cow before.

...the sight and smell of them stopped him dead.

“...that’s huge.”

--

“How big did you think cows were, Bruce?” Clark laughed, closing the barn door behind them.

The cows were in their stalls for the winter, some laying down to sleep while others had their heads stuck through the bars to feed from their trough.

It did smell pretty bad, but Clark didn’t seem to mind. He walked over to one and pet between its eyes.

--

Bruce honestly didn’t know how the cows stood the smell.

...he followed up behind Clark, watching him pet the cow, though his curiosity was focused a bit more on the petter than the pet-ee.

--

“They’re nice once you know how to act around them.” Clark said, looking at Bruce. “Just, y’know, gotta be aware they can break your foot. Here-” He reached out to take the other boy’s hand and place it gently on the cow’s head where he had been petting it.

The fur was course almost. Rough. Not really soft but not really wiry either.

--

Bruce was honestly not even really thinking about petting the cows--

...but Clark’s hand was warm, and it startled him into complacency, hand being pulled out of his pocket like that and held, even just for a moment.

…

The fur was coarse. But she was warm. The cow. And even though the fur was coarse, the skin under it was soft as Clark’s hand on top of his.

… “Wow,” he said, knowing he had to say something.

--

“See? They’re nice.” Clark said, oblivious to what was going on in Bruce’s head right now.

“C’mon.” He said, leading him out of the barn and towards the backyard.

“That’s our own little garden even though it’s just a patch of frozen mud right now. We grow tomatoes, zucchini, strawberries, tons of stuff. Mom makes jam. I’ll have her give you a jar to take back if you want. It’s really good.”

He lead him into a smaller barn after that. It had a four-wheeler and a few tractors inside.

“This is where we keep some of the equipment.”

--

Bruce followed Clark around the farm, feeling a little dumb and dumbfounded, and not sure what to feel the rest of the time. The farm life was… very different from the world he knew. And he respected it, he was pretty sure--but he didn’t really know much about it.

So he followed politely, looking around.

He pretty readily agreed to the jam.

“Alfred will like it,” he said.

--

“Cool. Y’know you gotta show me around your mansion or whatever sometime.”

A dog barked and soon a dog with black and white splotches was running up to them.

“Oh, and that’s Daisy.”

She tried to jump up at Bruce in excitement, tag wagging.

--

“Woah--” Bruce took a step back as Daisy jumped up at him, but--

...it was a dog.

Bruce bent down a moment later and was scratching her behind the ears.

--

Daisy put on that ‘thats the spot’ face and leaned into it, grumbling happily.

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked, do you have any pets?”

--

Bruce… made a bit of a face. And shook his head.

“No. Not anymore.”

...he was content to keep scratching the dog behind the ear as long as she’d lean in.

--

Clark stood and just sort’ve… watched him for a moment.

It was nice to see him content like this. Away from pressure.

“You feeling better than you were earlier?” He asked, as though he somehow knew.

--

…

“Yeah. ...sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”

He’d bite it back as often as he had to.

--

“It’s okay, dude.” Clark shrugged. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re around me. It happens.”

--

Bruce just… focused on the dog.

Clicked his fingers at her.

“I am fine, though,” he said, not even fooling himself. “...you didn’t tell me that’s what your mom’s name was.”

--

… It took him a moment. He looked confused, then his eyes went big.

“Oh. Oh, damn. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it.” He looked ashamed and ran a hand through the curls in his hair.

--

Bruce shook his head, not… looking at him, for that. “It’s fine. You shouldn’t have to.”

He should’ve been able to handle this on his own. It had been years. (six years.) He should be fine.

But his throat was dry, even after draining the whole glass of ice tea, and his fingers were getting cold, even in the warmth of Daisy’s fur.

Why was he still talking?

“Dad didn’t die first,” he said. “He kept calling her name.”

--

Daisy tried to lick his face, tail wagging.

“... I’m sorry, Bruce.” Clark said quietly. “Must be hard.”

He had never lost someone before.

He didn’t know how it felt.

--

He’d said it wouldn’t happen again, but he felt that creeping chill on the edge of his consciousness, threatening to drag him out of Smallville again. It wasn’t there yet. It hadn’t yanked him in violently like back at the bus station. But he could feel the prickle of it; the threat.

He sat down crosslegged in the field, and let the dog lick him.

When she stopped he just… shook his head.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” ‘it must be hard’ wasn’t… something he was used to hearing. “I’ve got money and Alfred to take care of me. I’m fine.”

--

Clark sat down with him on the cold, frozen dirt.

“Yeah but that’s just money and Alfred ain’t your dad. You might have what you need but not what you want. ‘N money can’t buy that.”

“So, like… are you fine?”

He looked over at him and tried to meet his eyes with his own bright blue gaze that somehow stood out even more than Bruce’s. The sun was high in the sky and there weren’t as many clouds to hide him like their were in Gotham, and you could see how much his skin almost glowed in the sunlight.

--

That wasn’t what people were supposed to say, and the urge to argue Kent down made a thousand things meant to be kept secret bubble up on his tongue.

But he swallowed them down.

...he seemed much smaller out here, under the big, clear sky. In Gotham, in its narrow streets and foggy skies, he stretched up and could fill a room. Here he was just a small, lost shadow: dark clothes, pale skin.

And when Clark tried to meet his eyes, they were glazed wet, and in the process of being blinked away, even as Bruce’s voice said, steadily, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

…

…

“When I’m eighteen,” he said, guiding Daisy down to lie in his lap for a belly rub, “I inherit everything they left behind. And I’m going to take it and run away, until not even you’d be able to find me.”

--

Daisy rolled into him and was very happy for the belly rub.

“... Why?” Clark asked, sounding sad. “Just to get away?”

--

...at least someone understood.

Bruce nodded.

--

Clark nodded too.

…

“Where you gonna go?”

--

Bruce shrugged.

He didn't know. He didn't care much.

--

“Okay.”

…

“Well-” Clark nudged him a little. “-I’d like it if ya kept in touch at least a little.”

He gave him an award-winning smile.

--

...Bruce found himself looking at that smile, and… it was hard not to feel some guilt.

“We’ll see,” he compromised.

--

Clark went quiet and just sat with him then.

…

After a few minutes though he blinked and stood up, looking down at his driveway.

--

Bruce looked up.

Glanced down the driveway. Saw nothing.

But he looked back up at Clark without any doubt. “What do you see?”

--

“It’s Pete ‘n Kenny.” Clark said just as you could start to hear the car. He offered a hand down to help Bruce to his feet.

“Friends of mine. Guess mom told ‘em I was coming home.”

--

Bruce didn't need the help, but he took the hand anyway, pushing Daisy off his lap carefully as he went.

“Yeah…?”

He was a little anxious about meeting Clark’s friends.

He was bad with people. And caring about Clark made things suddenly infinitely more complicated if he failed to make a good impression.

--

“Yeah. Don’t worry about ‘em, they’re good people.”

Clark lead him over to the car as it slid to a stop, two boys sat in the front.

“You’re back!” The passenger shouted.

“Yeah, for winter break.” Clark said, then gestured to them. “Kenny, Pete. Pete, Kenny, this is Bruce. Friend of mine from school.”

“Yo.” Kenny waved from the driver’s seat, Pete from the passenger’s side.

--

Bruce waved back with a “nice to meet you,” and hung back, not willing to overstep. He was already looking at Pete and Kenny’s haircuts and their clothes, and starting to get an idea how Clark must've felt, standing out in school.

--

They dressed a lot like Clark did. Layers. Worn clothes. Mud around the ankles and hand-me-down jackets.

“Get in, both of ya, we’re heading down to the tracks.” Kenny said, pointing to the back seat.

“Uh.” Clark looked at Bruce. “You cool with tagging along?”

He looked hopeful.

--

Bruce shrugged and--well. He had no reason not to?

“Sure.”

He climbed into the back with Clark.

--

“Nice.” Pete grinned, and once they were in, Kenny started to back up and turn around to head out.

…

At first they didn’t really talk to Bruce. They just filled Clark in on all the town gossip. Who was boning who, who was getting knocked up, who had fallen out or gotten in trouble.

But soon that did come around as they pulled into a gravel spot by some train tracks. Pete leaned back and looked at Bruce. “He tell ya why he ran off to Gotham?”

Clark might’ve gone a little pale. “Pete.”

--

“Said he was layin’ low,” Bruce said, picking up Pete’s accent a little bit from being surrounded by it for a little. He crossed his arms on the seat in front of him and leaned forward, asking for more without saying anything.

--

“I’ll kill you, Pete.” Clark warned.

“Yeah. Layin’ low after blastin’ a guys arms off with his eyes.” Pete grinned.

Clark threatened to climb over the seat and smack him, and Pete just kept laughing.

“Pete you fuckin’ dumbass, you know he can actually kill you, right?” Kenny huffed.

--

Bruce just… looked sort of confused for a bit at that.

What did that mean? If it was an in-joke would Clark be that upset, but if it was leaning closer to real, what did that even mean?

He knew Clark… was different.

But he didn't realize he hadn't seen half of it yet.

“...what?”

--

“You didn’t tell him?” Kenny said, a little surprised.

Clark stopped smacking Pete, who was laughing his ass off. “Kenny! What do you think laying low means?!”

“Well I mean, c’mon man, you brought him here. Damn near everyone knows you’re an alien.” Kenny said, unintimidated.

Clark just… slumped back into the seat, as far away from everyone as possible, and shoved his face in his hands.

--

…

…

You know what?

Bruce was going to unpack all of this later.

Right now, all he could do was turn, look Clark dead in the eye, and say, “suddenly I understand why you had such a hard time with ‘snitches get stitches’ with friends like these.”

--

Clark was rubbing his eyes. “God.”

“Ah c’mon Clark. We gotta embarrass our buddy in front of his new friend.” Pete grinned.

Clark glared at him. “You’re honestly lucky I trust Bruce not to say anything. You know how much shit I could get in if everyone in Gotham knew? Area 51??” He gestured wildly to himself.

“If it makes you feel better people are starting to say those three were just tripping on something and imagined the whole thing.” Kenny said.

--

Bruce was still just… running with this. As it happened.

Unpack later. Survive right now.

(From his position, he could get an arm around Kenny’s neck and choke him as payback for Clark’s trust being violated)

(There was a red mark against Kenny from this, against Pete. Snitches get stitches. Silence was golden. Loose lips sank ships.

Trust no one.)

(‘You’re honestly lucky I trust Bruce not to say anything.’ When-- when had that-- when had he earned that?)

“What did happen?” Bruce asked instead.

He was ten places in his head, and lost in none of them.

--

They all looked at Clark.

…

Clark sighed and rubbed his head.

“Some assholes shot up the gas station last year. Killed like five people. I knew where he’d gone, I could hear the yelling, so I tracked them down. One guy shot me in the face with a revolver. I tossed him through the front of the house. Next guy shot me in the chest with a shotgun. I ended up burning his arms off. Then Pete came around and ended up clocking the last one with a shovel.”

He said it all so… numbly. Like he had unpacked in awhile ago and could now just… recite it.

--

“They lived?” he said, deciding not to question the… burning. The being followed. The shotgun.

--

“... Yeah.” Clark said quietly.

--

Bruce had gone back to his Gotham accent. His voice had been falling into his harder, more serious tone.

Pete and Kenny called this story embarrassing to Clark.

“But you did it?”

--

Kenny and Pete were looking at one another, watching this unfold after they had set it into motion.

“... Yeah?” Clark said again. “I can do… a lot of weird shit.”

--

Maybe the new fragile city kid going hard and cold wasn't what they'd expected when they started talking about small town maiming.

“Yeah, no shit, you beat my mile,” Bruce said. “...but you burnt their arms off.”

…he waited for one more confirmation, looking Clark in the eye just as Clark had done with him half an hour earlier.

But once he got it--even just a flash of a ‘yes’ in a look between them, Bruce said, “Good.”

--

And Clark did say ‘yes’.

But then he looked confused.

“Good?”

That was the first time anyone had said that.

--

And Bruce said it again.

Firmer.

“Good.”

--

Clark blinked and stared at him, like a whole other option had opened up to him.

…

“Damn,” Kenny said. “Hardass Gotham.”

--

Kenny still had a mark against him, and he wasn't helping himself, so Bruce didn't feel bad when he turned the full weight of a glare on him.

Maybe his eyes couldn't ‘burn off’ anyone’s arms, but that just meant that his blue eyes were cold and hard as ice.

“They shot five people? They deserve what's coming to them.”

--

… Kenny backed up and put his hands up. “Not sayin’ they didn’t.”

“Yeah, no one is saying that.” Pete added. “I mean, if he hadn’t showed up then they were gonna kill like their whole family.”

Clark still didn’t say anything. He was looking down, like he had never been told that what he had done was good. Not really. Whenever they had mentioned how he had done well it was also interlaced with ‘but what could have happened to you’.

--

They were going to kill their whole family.

They were going to kill their whole family?

That part hadn't been said. Just: Clark tracked them down. Clark fought them. Clark got shot.

Clark lived.

(They were going to kill a family, and Bruce, already mentally exhausted from the morning, from bracing himself against names, from coping, found himself seeing it happen in an alleyway unlike anything he'd seen in Smallville, and he was so tired of spending the day in that place.)

“Cool. Cool, so… fuck this,” he said, and turned to Clark, seeing him spaced out. “Hey. Kent. Snap out of it. You said you guys got out more than us, right? Time to prove it.”

Find somewhere else to go.

Somewhere to lose this conversation entirely, before they got lost in it.

--

“Uhhhh fine.” Clark groaned and sat up. “Let’s go.”

Pete put the car in reverse. “Where to?”

“... Bowling?” Clark shrugged and looked at Bruce.

--

“I'll pay,” Bruce said, fine with that.

“See you throw every single ball down the gutter again.”

--

“You were last!” Clark pointed out.

--

“Yeah. I have nothing to prove,” he said, straight faced.

“But I might try harder out of revenge now that I know I wasn't wrong about my mile.”

--

“I was gonna apologize but I thought that would be saying too much!” Clark pleaded with him.

“They makin’ you take gym, Clark?” Kenny asked as they drove.

“Yes.”

“Oof.”

--

Bruce-- Bruce wasn't angry at Clark for it, not really. He'd been the one playing mediator at the time. Half of him just… needed something to keep going. To be huffy about--something that didn't matter--so he wouldn't be huffy about things that did.

“Tommy and Harv aren't gonna say anything even if they’ve figured something out,” he said, finally leaning back some and trying to uncoil the tight knot in his shoulders. “I told them not to that day.”

And no matter how loud Tommy was, no matter how much the teachers liked Harvey-- at the end of the day, Bruce was the one in charge. He didn't say much, but when he told them to not pry or talk, neither of the other boys would.

That weight didn't transfer to Kansas well, but after that conversation-- it lingered on him, some, in the back of the car, in his nice dark clothes, and the cold exhaustion in his eyes.

“They've been letting him skip for asthma, but running a four minute mile blew that out of the water some.”

--

“... Thanks.” Clark said, looking over at him.

“Guess since no one is in on it over there things are kinda hard.” Pete said.

“You have no idea.” Clark mumbled.

…

“This is kinda a relief. You knowing now.”

--

...he relaxed a little more.

“...I'm gonna be processing this for a while still,” he said. “...but I guess it at least makes sense now why you didn't think I was insane about the Talons being real.”

….somehow, the thought that Clark hadn't just been humoring him the last few months took precedence.

--

Clark huffed a laugh.

“Talons?” One in the front asked.

“Nah we’re not talking about that shit with you two.” Clark said firmly.

No way.

--

…

Bruce found himself smiling a little.

Mentioning it had been a kind-of permission, but… he was glad it wasn't taken.

Clark kept their secrets.

“So,” he leaned forward onto the front chair again. “Clark said something about corn demons?”

--

“What?” Kenny said.

“What?” Clark said too, then paused. “Oh, there's uh, that hell gateway over in Stull I think I mentioned.” Clark said.

“Eh, people just like to bullshit about angry ghosts that come out around Halloween.” Pete said.

--

“Our murder rate just spikes on Halloween,” Bruce said. “Why’s it a hell gateway?”

Said the Jewish boy.

--

“I have no idea.” Clark admitted.

“Isn't Gotham like one of the biggest crime places in the US?” Pete asked.

--

“Recently, yeah,” Bruce said, keeping it steady.

--

“What's it like there?” Pete asked.

“Ever been stabbed?” Kenny followed.

“Jesus, guys.” Clark sighed.

--

“I would probably not be walking around so great if I'd been stabbed,” Bruce said flatly, thinking of the caning in school, and the dread Tommy and Harv had of going home, and grisly pictures on the front page.

“You two sound like you watch way too much tv.”

--

“They do.” Clark said flatly.

They pulled into the bowling alley.

It was… very empty. The inside only had two people in staff with the radio playing and an arcade tucked in the corner.

--

“Same show that told you we were supposed to be out partying when we just snuck out for ice cream?”

Bruce pulled out a handful of bills and handed them to Clark mostly out of habit.

He could probably actually… buy things here without being recognized, maybe. But habit still won this round.

--

Clark didn't mind, walking up and paying. “Absolutely.”

“Snuck out for ice cream?”

“Didn't think you could get any lamer, Clark.” Kenny chuckled.

--

...it did make him think, though. A connection he hadn't been able to make, but that he'd made sure to hold onto the pieces, just in case.

“...what they said earlier doesn't happen to have anything to with how easy scaling the wall was for you, right?”

--

Clark waited until they were away from other prying ears to answer.

“Um, yeah. I might've been kinda… flying. For that.”

--

Bruce turned and stared at him again.

“What?” He whispered back.

--

Clark cleared his throat as if embarrassed. “I can fly.”

--

Bruce is going to need a long time to work through all this.

But right now, he's compartmentalizing like a pro.

“...what else can you do?”

--

“Uh,” Clark mumbled as he tied his bowling shoes. “I can see through things. Like x-ray vision? And can hear really far. Like--”

He looked up and his eyes glowed blue. “I can see one of the employees back behind the counter picking his nose. And he's humming that really annoying country song that won't stop playing on the radio.”

--

There was something in that which nagged Bruce. Being watched without being able to tell. Being heard. But--

But he had something to soothe it, a little bit. And confirm.

“I can hear the humming, too,” he said.

Not as a challenge.

But.

He believed Clark.

This was something most people couldn't hear.

And if he could hear that, Bruce would also believe the sight.

--

Clark looked a little surprised, happy even.

“Really?” He smiled a little, like he suddenly felt less alone.

“And, uh, I try hard to not listen in on private conversations and stuff if it makes you feel better. I don't want to hear everything. It just happens. I have to focus to pay attention to what close.”

--

...the apology was fine, but the second part still kept him a little on guard.

“Like the teachers meeting with students after class,” he said, and trying to not think of how close some private discussions had been to Clark. “...how far away?”

--

Clark made a face as though the answer pained him.

“Miles. Like… three miles? More if I focus.”

--

...not even Bruce’s razor hearing did that.

He felt the knot in his chest tighten almost imperceptibly.

“...but you don't.”

--

“No. I try to ground myself and focus on what's next to me.” He got up to get a bowling ball. Picked out the heaviest one and twirled it in his hands idly like it didn't weigh a thing.

“I try to keep it to like… a few rooms away sort of hearing. That's the smallest I can get without having to strain myself.”

--

A few rooms away.

A few rooms away.

(Kisses don't make sounds, Bruce told himself, but all the same, felt his heart speed up a bit at the memory.)

“A few rooms clearly?” he said, watching how Clark spun the bowling ball as if it were just a basket ball, meant to be tossed around in the air.

He picked up his own ball to wait his turn. It was lighter. But it was still heavy in his lap.

--

Clark made a face again. Guilty.

“I… I can hear your heartbeat through walls, so. Yeah. Clearly.”

He looked at Bruce, apologetic.

“I'm-- I'm sorry.”

--

...that.

That was… too much.

He could only hear his own heartbeat in his ears and thundering in his chest, and it was too much for him.

But he couldn't have this conversation here.

He couldn't have it anywhere, maybe.

He couldn't think too hard on that, on his very heartbeat always being listened to, on the illusion of privacy, and the thought of--

He picked up his bowling ball, numb and dead to the world, and with no distractions and a mechanicalness to his movements, he rolled a strike.

They weren't talking about this anymore.

--

… Clark looked down, not saying a word as Kenny and Pete 'oooed’ over the strike and wrote it down.

They wouldn't bring it up again, talking about random things and trying to nudge Clark back into the conversation. But he didn't say much. He just… rolled his ball a little too fast a little too hard until he got the hang of it again.

And when it was over, no matter who won, they would drive the two back out to the farm.

--

Bruce kept up what amounted to polite conversation if he was pulled in.

He didn't remember who won.

He didn't remember what they said, or if he shook anyone’s hands as they dropped them off back at the Kent farm.

He wasn't as cold and detached as he'd been that morning, but he knew he was wading further from shore, and that he should pull himself back.

But he didn't want to do that around Clark right now.

Hot tea wouldn't pull back this.

--

When they pulled back into the farm Clark hung back at the car, if only for a minute.

…

“Thanks assholes, now he hates me.” He hissed and slammed the door a little too hard. It rocked the car and they yelled, but he didn't care.

He walked in behind Bruce and tried to tell his parents yes, they had fun, went bowling, tired now.

Up to his room.

--

….

Bruce followed.

Up to his room. Guest room. It wasn’t lavish or high quality, but it smelled a little dusty, like the manor, and he could choke on that a little and feel a bit better in the familiar prison of old and carefully preserved items.

‘Granny’ Clark had called it.

(Bruce’s grandparents had died by the time he was born. Parents married late by parents who married late by parents who married late.)

…

He managed to sit on the bed for a full five minutes, hands held carefully in each other and breathing slowly, heart steadying, before he locked it in place.

And he left the room, footsteps quiet as he could make them on the carpet, and went back downstairs.

[didgeriduwu]

Tf2 Headcanons 2 bc I have a million of these

[Please if you haven't already go and sign the petition to save this goofy ass game!]

Pyro isn't covered in burn marks. What do you think the fireproof suit is for?

Pyro has actually worn their suit since they were a literal baby, and their parents noticed them trying to crawl into the fireplace. They still have all of their past suits ranging from itty bitty baby pyro size all the way up to their current size.

Sniper's slouch hat belonged to his (adopted) dad, who wore it as part of his uniform in WW2. Even though he doesn't approve of his son's job, Snipes' dad still wanted him to have his lucky hat to keep him safe.

Scout is pro-womens rights. He's still sexist (its the 60s/70s) but his Ma was an early Second Wave feminist so he just grew up believing in women's lib by default.

Heavy's dad was one of those high-ranking soviet officers who pissed Stalin off so bad he had them old-timey photoshopped out of existence.

Miss Pauling is tatted the fuck up, but only where it's not visible while she's wearing her work attire. She's a professional, god damn it.

Christopher Lee was a spy during WW2 (Its 100% true look it up) and so was Spy, and they were friends.

Spy's (real?) name is Jean Dupont because that's the French equivalent of "John Doe" and I like the idea of there being two does on the team (no relation).

Other Headcanons!

Misc.: Part 1,

Themed: Sex, Woodstock

[mariamakeslemons]

Canon CoD movie killer types (with Bonuses!)

Like I did with the 70's horror stereotypes, I need to make a Canon character version of the 141 movie killers.

Non-Canon Killers are here now!

Alex is a stalking killer. Like mentioned in the stereotypes, he's the kind of guy who can blend into the background. Here, he uses it to hunt and harass his victims, for his amusement before he kills them. There's no better prey than a scared prey.

Final Girl isn't actually his prey, but they put themselves between him and his prey, even managing to keep his prey safe from him. He becomes obsessed and wants to be their obsession in return.

Farah is a "victim" killer, a true wounded gazelle gambit. She'll go out to bars and clubs, fake getting drunk or drugged, and allows someone to get her out of the building. Whether the person is helping her or "helping" themselves, she doesn't care. She kills them while believing that she's ridding the world of more scum.

Final Girl gets on her radar because they "save" her from an asshole who wanted to help himself to a seemingly drunk woman. Instead of trying to drag Farah anywhere, they get her an Uber and wait with her for the car to show up. She soon tries to find a way to get close to them again, to be "saved" again.

Kate is a manipulator. It's pretty close to how she is in canon, but her moral code is a little looser. She finds killing to be therapeutic, to the point that she'll go out into the field herself. Preferring to either snipe her victim or poison them, she doesn't shy away from killing for her perceived greater good.

Final girl is pretty much her sweet little neighbor, and a huge part of her morals. Someone mean to them? That person is dead and tied to some big conspiracy, even if they weren't while alive. Every life that Kate ruins or destroys is connected to their comfort and life.

Alejandro is a snapped soldier, dishonorably discharged after having a mental breakdown in the field and killing friend and foe alike. Honestly, he's more tragic than horrific, but he still kills. This is more due to the loss of all the people he cared about, to the point that he can't see people as civilian or ally. Something in his mind has placed everyone as an enemy.

Final Girl ends up being the sole exception, as they actively help him. To his mind, they appear angelic, and he needs to keep them safe from all the enemies surrounding them.

Rudy is the Brother's Best friend killer. Similar to Gaz, he's a killer that is the Final Girl's brother's best friend. He only really tolerates the brother (unless it's Alejandro, in which case he tries to hide his darker side from him as well), because it gives him easy access to his obsession. If a non-Alejandro brother gets in the way, he'll kill the brother while comforting their sibling at the funeral.

Again, similar to Gaz, he views Final Girl as his. He'll manipulate brother to either be his fall guy, or his hypeman and Final Girl's body guard.

Valeria is pretty much Canon, with a little set up similar to the 'Hostel' franchise. When people are brought into her set up, she gets first pick at the "meat". Her shows are horrifying and often used as a way to tell her men that they could easily become "meat" for her to use in her shows.

Final Girl was picked as someone else's "meat", only to escape. Valeria watches the video of their escape and is intrigued, wanting them for a "pet".

Graves is, like Valeria, pretty much Canon, but perhaps with an inflation to his ego, to the point of Narcissism. The highest bidder can buy his "loyalty", until either someone richer comes around or he grows bored with their orders. He doesn't shy away from working on the field, he actually prefers it.

The Final Girl was an objective that he'd been hired to kill, only for him to find them fascinating. He even kills his "employer" to keep playing cat-and-mouse with them. When he catches them, he plans to make them into a "proper spouse".

Makarov becomes a mafia don, one that gleefully gets his hands filthy with blood. Human trafficking, drug trafficking, weapon trafficking, prostitution, threats, his gang does it all. He controls the Russian underground and shadow controls Russian in it's whole.

The Final Girl would be an innocent at the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd initially find them amusing, only to become obsessed with figuring out how they're able to keep being so kind after they help him without knowing who he is. He hunts them down in hopes to keep them.

Nikolai is a pick-up killer, driving a cab to kill the passengers who don't fit his rules. His rules are ever changing to match his mood and whimsy. There is no rule list to decide who Nik does and doesn't kill.

Originally, Final Girl broke his "too pretty" rule, but they kept their life by being on the phone, on speaker, and obviously paying attention to the world moving past the window. It becomes a game to him, how they keep managing to get him as a cabbie and surviving. Eventually, he decides that once they slip up, he's keeping them.

Bonus!!

Alex and Farah form a bait and monster killer pair. Alex leads possible victims to his love while Farah eats them to remain as humane as possible for her love. A sick version of Beauty and the Beast.

Final Girl was originally planned as a victim, only for the couple to become smitten with them. The pair decides that they need to become like Alex, nearly immortal to stay with Farah.

Alejandro and Rudy are tag team killers. Depending on who their target for the night is, they get rugged, mean-acting Ale forcing them outside, or soft, shy-acting Rudy asking them out of the building. Once their victim is outside, the other man attacks and the bait watches on, usually aroused at his lover covered in blood.

The Final Girl actually got away, as they wanted nothing to do with either man or their persona. This, of course, intrigues the men, to the point that they hunt Final Girl down. After all, they've always wanted a "pet".

[sanjisboyfie]

one piece smau: dating usopp edition

— get the amtching usernames bc usopp is a sniper - so he is cupid because he sniped readers heart just like that and theyre both madly in love w each other... everything does add uo i swear

— male reader as alllwayyyysss + i love giving usopp love bc hes so underrated not to mention easily fine as fuck (both in live action and in the anime)

liked by cupidusopp, roro.zoro, and 9k others

snipedbycupid: i was gonna gatekeep this photo of usopp, but decided that his beauty had to be shared w the world

tagged: cupidusopp

cupidusopp: uhmmmm sorry but i got a boyfriend, you can't jus b posting photos of me like this :///

-> snipedbycupid: fym "sorry" ??? is that what you tell other people on the street when they hit on you? "sorry but i have a boyfriend"

-> imcupid: please [name] that is NOT what i meant at all

-> snipedbycupid: so you're calling me stupid now ???

[liked by dni_nami, robinkills and 70 others]

dni_nami: okay but his hair ?? is giving

-> snipedbycupid: all he needs to do is grow his hair out longer so it can be put in a low pony UGHHH im salivating

-> cupidusopp: im taking notes rn so you never leave me

liked by freeluffy, skullnsoul, and 11k others

cupidusopp: me and my boyfriend are so hot and everyone wishes they were us

tagged: snipedbycupid

snipedbycupid: im barking like a DOG rn

-> cupidusopp: wow you really know the way to a man's heart im blushin rn

robinkills: you two look quite intimidating, how cute

-> snipedbycupid: we are the baddest duo in the world everyone needs to fear us

-> dni_nami: yeah, fear the public disturbances you two cause

[liked by roro.zoro, cupidusopp, and 90 others]

princesanji: someone needs to investigate how usopp possibly pulled himself a cute boyfriend

-> snipedbycupid: you're sure you're not gay sanji? you jus called another man cute, that's pretty gay of you

-> cupidusopp: sanji's gay ass in my comment section rn tryna steal my mannn 🤦🏽‍♂️🤦🏽‍♂️🤦🏽‍♂️

-> princesanji: with this attitude i really have no idea how anyone could fall for u

liked by princesaji, SUPERCOLA, robinkills and 12k others

dni_nami: i hate how these two dress better than the entire friend group without even trying

tagged: snipedbycupid and cupidusopp

cupidusopp: me n my baby gotta showout if the rest of u guys are gonna dress bummy af

[liked by snipedbycupid, freeluffy, and 100 others]

snipedbycupid: HE LOOKS EXTRA FINE IN THESE PHOTOS YALL THAT'S LITERALLY MINNEEE THATS MY BABBYY

-> cupidusopp: no way u got me kickin my feet n blushing like a school girl rn 🤭🤭

-> cupidusopp: also you look so FINE here stfu

ttchopper: i want to dress like usopp and [name]! they're so cool

-> roro.zoro: as long as you dont develope their level of stupidity, chopper, i say go for it

-> snipedbycupid: always gotta b the most unhinged shit coming from u zoro

liked by cupidusopp, princesanji, and 10k others

snipedbycupid: the little details of dating usopp <3

tagged: cupidusopp

cupidusopp: please i think i would die for you this is so serious

-> snipedbycupid: LMFAOOA USOPP STOP

roro.zoro: so you guys skipped gym to go on a date? im never inviting you guys again

-> snipedbycupid: did not mean to break ur heart today zoro pls forgive us

freeluffy: BEST FRIENDS ARE IN LOVE BEST FRIENDS ARE IN LOOOOOVVVEEEEE USOPP AND [NAME] SITTING IN A TREE, K I S S I NG !!!

[liked by snipedbycupid, cupidusopp, and 70 others]

-> princesanji: how old are you????

liked by dni_nami, princesanji, and 11k others

cupidusopp: boyfriends that pee together stay together !!!

tagged: snipedbycupid

dni_nami: the internet did not need to see this

-> cupidusopp: someone jelly that they're still single yawnnn

dr.law: this is so unsanitary, i need u both to delete yourselves

-> snipedbycupid: a doctor encouraging something as extreme as this, a shame what our generation has become

-> dr.law: you're the one posting yourself urinating for all to see.

freeluffy: hey where's my photo creds!! i had to stand on the toiler and take a picture over the stall for this angle!!!

SUPERCOLA: usopp had a vision and i can appreciate this - it's borderline art, guys

-> snipedbycupid: we knew you'd get it franky

liked by dni_nami, freeluffy, and 10k others

cupidusopp: i don't get mushy about me and [name]'s relationship often, but this man genuinely is my entire world and i love him so much and not a day goes by that where im not grateful that we have each other <333 i wanna share every single laugh w u, happy 2 years [name]

tagged: snipedbycupid

cupidusopp: I HATE HOW CHEESY THIS IS BUT HES MY POOKIE FR

robinkills: you two are so cute when you're not posting yourselves urinating on social media

-> cupidusopp: PLEASE ROBIN UNDERSTAND THE VISION !!!

skullnsoul: your guys' relationship is so cute because it's a perfect balance of everything you need in a healthy relationshp and im glad you two found each other

[liked by roro.zoro, princesanji, dni_nami, and 100 others]

-> sniperbycupid: awww brook you sound like such a wise old man, me and usopp love u v much thank u

dni_nami: my best friends are so cute UGH i hate u two

SUPERCOLA: i cant believe its been only 2 years it feels like you two have been tgt since forevverrr

-> cupidusopp: thatd b my bad bc ive had a crush on him since we met and i dont think i hid it very well at all.

snipedbycupid's story

WE ARE THE SEXIEST COUPLE KNOWN TO MAN

cupidusopp replied to your story: sorry im coming over rn bc !!!! u look too good in this photo to ignore i cant do this see u in 10

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #52 — The DJD Once Again Prove to Be an HR Nightmare

Ratchet and Drift, looking fresh as hell in their matching paint jobs, stand on the cliff they made their cool entrance on last issue, as they snipe at each other over whether or not Drift personally knows the DJD. Considering how Tarn and Friends had a space-cocaine induced freakout over seeing Drift on the quantum duplicate Lost Light, they may want to talk a little quieter, especially with the face Helex is making.

You better watch out, Ratchet— this man's going to do Sakamoto-got-all-the-way-to-pencils shit to you!

The Pet takes the opportunity presented by our recently returned newlyweds being too busy flirting to pay attention to the fight at hand, leaping to chew on Ratchet's head. Luckily, Ten is an ally, even when he’s been beat to shit, and punches the shitty little Pomeranian into the air. Kaon, card-carrying freak and dog dad, takes this abject display of animal abuse about as well as he can.

Ratchet, having his gun eaten by the mouth pervert, is beginning to worry that he, his rich boytoy, and a mostly out of commission Ten might be sliiiiiiiiightly outnumbered against a dozen Decepticons, two of whom belong to the Super Murder Death Squad. Drift, after a bit of needling, heelies a dude’s face off, jumps into the air, does a bunch of sick flips, blocks a laser with a sword in such a way that it looks like he got shot in the dick, and then lands, like, 70 feet away to scoop up the Pet and threaten to chop its head off if Helex doesn’t stop trying to vore his boyfriend.

Kaon, #1 dog dad, orders everyone to fall back. Helex, who has Ratchet like 70% inside his smelting chamber by this point, can’t believe that Kaon’s ruining the fun. Helex releases Ratchet, letting him crowd onto Drama Point with Drift and most of Ten, as the Decepticons circle them. Drift, unfortunately, didn’t think past doing sweet flips to show off after his sabbatical from the comic run, and they’re back in the same situation they arrived to, but now one of them is holding a crusty little dog.

Then a platform descends from the sky, and we see what Ravage has been up to.

Grand theft auto!

Yes, it turns out that this cat can drive, and well enough to get the boys up and out of danger, though Ten’s size means that the lovebirds have to dangle off of his remaining arm. Drift still hasn’t put down the Pet. Sure hope that thing’s been socialized to cats.

Oh, who am I kidding? Kaon wouldn’t have bothered.

Speaking of Kaon, he looks like he’s about to cry, because someone’s kidnapped his princess baby angel, and Helex doesn’t even CARE, the heartless bastard, as he orders the other Decepticons to fire on the shuttle. They, of course, hit it, as there’s at least ten of these guys firing, and they’re all decently tall. The shuttle begins to lose altitude, and Ravage, who does not have traditional hands and is currently using his tail to man the control stick, attempts to crash as close to the “fortress” as possible.

Meanwhile, over at Megatron’s plinth, we get back to that whole thing where he surrendered himself to Tarn. Tarn, feeling an excuse to monologue coming on, says that he’s well aware of Megatron’s new schtick, and he’s not a huge fan of it. Megatron clarifies that he wishes to give himself up so that the rest of the Lost Light crew stranded on this planet might live, because this is his fault to begin with. Tarn agrees, reminding him that he paid for Tarn’s plastic surgery. Megatron states that he only brought Tarn to his side to hurt “someone”.

Three guesses who Megatron could have possibly hurting by bringing Tarn over to the Decepticons, and the first two don’t count.

Megatron thinks that by bumming around space on a borderline vacation, he’s returned to who he used to be (maybe he got his teaching license, who knows) and that the war was a waste of time. Tarn gets kind of intense here, because if Megatron wasted his life, what does that make Tarn? Tarn, who has decorated his home with nothing but Decepticon symbols? Tarn, who has had corpses nailed to his wall for the last couple million years? Tarn, who wears a fuckoff stupid mask every single day of his life, even while eating and trying to kill himself with space meth cut with time travel and gas station dick pills? Also, what about all the other guys who died trying to realize Megatron's ideals? What about the little guys, the cogs that made the machine run? What about Steve from accounting, whose husband left him, because he was too busy trying to balance the budget on Megatron's body remodels and Optimus Prime punching bags that also doubled as body pillows to come home? What about Steve, huh?

Megatron basically regrets everything he’s ever done, not that Tarn cares. Megatron then reveals that whole thing where Rewind tried to retroactively kill him as an infant, and how he sort of wished it had worked.

Tarn starts beating the shit out of Megatron before the guy can start going on about how his parents are Brainstorm and Whirl, though Tarn promises that this is just a healthy dose of tough love, as surely the wimp before him isn’t actually who Megatron is. Megatron doesn’t fight back, instead just staring sadly at the Autobot badge Tarn slapped off of him. This is really starting to piss Tarn off, as he was really hoping to beat some of the fire back into his former mentor and idol. This is when he starts trying to choke Megatron, even though their species doesn’t breathe. Still, I’m sure Tarn’s stiletto nails hurt something fierce.

Megatron then recalls his conversation with Velocity, and states that if the fool’s energon DID alter his personality, it was probably for the best, and he wouldn’t want to go back. Tarn, who has based his entire selfhood on the thing that Megatron threw away to live out his probation on a cruise ship, takes this statement with all the tact and level-headedness we’ve come to know him for.

Tarn is just one more double fusion cannon blast to the chest away from smiting Megatron utterly, and he’s fully committed to doing so. However, he gets distracted by the sound of Elton John’s “The Bitch is Back” coming from across the field.

WHO LET THIS MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF HELL

Anyway, it looks like Ravage can, in fact, drive pretty well, as the shuttle did crash pretty close to the “fortress”. Swerve, who still really wants to make up for his shitty boss behaviors and also accidentally dragging Ten into a microcosm of hell, lets Ten know that they saw his floor graffiti, and that it might actually work. Magnus, who still has his arm off, does his best to not kick Swerve across the room as he scurries underfoot, as he drags Ten inside the building.

Skids intercepts Ratchet to welcome him back, and also ask how the hell he knew to come to Necroworld. Apparently he and Drift had received a call from the handy dandy phone that he had given First Aid, who First Aid had then regifted to Velocity, just in case some bullshit happened. Velocity’s introduction to Ratchet is rough, as she manages to call him grumpy, old, and stubborn as a mule in the span of about fifteen seconds. Ratchet is mostly concerned with the fact that the Lost Light replaced him so soon after his return. Nobody tell him about Velocity’s track record with the medical exams, he might just shoot off into space to beat First Aid to a pulp for leaving her by herself.

Over in what might be a closet, Rodimus runs across Drift sitting in the dark and sharpening one of his swords. Drift seems to have used his exile to remember that he does, in fact, have some semblance of self-respect, as he doesn’t immediately forgive Rodimus for throwing him off the ship that he paid for, only to have given himself up as the real culprit behind the Overlordening, like, a week later, thus negating Drift’s sacrifice, and then never coming to find him, despite the fact that they’re supposedly friends, and, again, the ship is in Drift’s name, as was the crew’s allowance money. How the Lost Light has survived financially without Drift is unknown.

Rodimus knows that he sucks and is the worst, but he was really worried that Drift wouldn’t like him anymore, so he’d sort of been kicking the issue of “finding my ex-TIC to tell him he got publicly humiliated for nothing” down the road, to the point where Ratchet had gotten sick of it and went to solve the problem himself.

Of course, the meta reason for Drift not being found was so that Shane McCarthy could have his OC back, as well as Ratchet, for the miniseries Transformers: Drift— Empire of Stone, well known for being sort of silly and introducing the phrase “be shoosh” to Drift’s lexicon. In it, Ratchet found Drift traipsing around the edge of the galaxy being a neutral (in terms of war) hero to organic species affected by Decepticon aggressions, before crashing on a planet where Drift, back when he was “Deadlock”, had found a mystical stone army, one that Gigatron (a dude who totally isn’t anime Megatron) wanted to harness the power of, so that the Decepticons might claim victory over their enemies. Hellbat, Gigatron’s second in command, had gone mad doing nothing but killing over millions of years, and had been modifying the stone army in secret to do his bidding so he could "kill everything". Then the stone army woke up, Hellbat died, Gigatron died, and Ratchet went to take Drift to get detailed, because he looked like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet.

Also, if you think about it, having two former high-ranking Decepticons turning to the Autobot side being on the Lost Light’s high command might have been too many redundancies to make Megatron’s arc stand out. Perhaps, had Megatron not been added to MTMTE’s roster so late in the game, Rodimus WOULD have gone looking for Drift, finding him just in time for the DJD to catch wind that they hadn’t actually super nightmare death murdered Deadlock after all.

Drift, who can’t say no to Rodimus's puppydog face, lets Rodimus sit with him on the floor, as he apologizes for the fact that by coming here, Drift and Ratchet have unwittingly signed up for Tarn’s Political Theory and Dismemberment Slam Poetry Night, but he mega-promises that they’ll come up with something together to get through this. Drift appreciates the sentiment, but knows that Rodimus is just saying this to make him feel better.

Back at the worst fan club meetup in the galaxy, Tarn elbows Overlord in the throat and tells him to fuck off. Overlord tells him that he knows Tarn never finished his degree and only acts like an academic for the aesthetic. Tarn transforms to shoot him while reminding Overlord that at least Megatron’s spoken to him in the last few thousand years. The two duke it out with their tank modes, Overlord KRUMPing all over Tarn, before the theatre kid kicks him off and questions why exactly Overlord is even alive, given that he chainsawed his head off last year. No word on if he’s bothered to ask this same question about 75% of the people he’s here to super murder.

Overlord simply states that someone found him floating out in space and fixed him up, because it turns out that they both wanted to go after Megatron and kill his ass dead, because Overlord is sort of sick of not getting the attention he so obviously deserves. When Tarn, ever the opportunist, attempts to make a team up deal, Overlord tells him to shut up.

And then they realize they lost the old man they were fighting over.

Great work, fellas.

Over with the Autobots (and Cyclonus), Rewind’s outside, looking at that memorial to the disappeared and trying to figure out why the Necrobot laid out the names in the way that he did. He’s currently near the top, where you can see most of Roller’s name, someone whose name ends in “gator”, and Dreamwave Production’s smoldering corpse, which makes me wonder if Alex Milne ever did get all the money he was owed from his work with them. Rewind, who last dealt with the DJD not even a year ago, is trying really, really hard to not think about how many needles they’re going to jam into Chromedome’s eyes this go around.

Of course, Nautica, who has come out to find Rewind, doesn’t give a shit about Rewind’s PTSD. She wants relationship advice! She’d ask Chromedome, but apparently he’s taking a nap, still worn out from stabbing Tailgate in the brain after he rainbow-exploded all over the ship. Which happened months ago.

You know, at the rate he’s been going, Chromedome probably wouldn’t have lived too far past sunset anyhow.

Anyway, Nautica wants to know if, on Cybertron, you have to be besties before you can get hitched, because that’s how it works on some of the other colonies. She specifies that this ISN'T how it works on Caminus, which is good, given how problematic that would be, considering you need to be best friends with someone by the time you're five weeks old, and there's no telling if they're cool with platonic polyamory. Rewind informs her that it’s either one or the other on Cybertron, no double-dipping, and god help you if it’s a situationship. Nautica is asking this because she’s realized that she can’t waffle about on committing anymore, seeing as she’s probably going to die in the next hour or so, and she’d rather use that time to enter a queer-platonic partnership than get her face fixed.

Back at the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn has, in fact, managed to bring Overlord to reason, much to Deathsaurus’s confusion and derision, if his squiggle face is anything to go by. Overlord, smug as fuck, informs Deathsaurus that in exchange for his compliance, Tarn has agreed to let him personally murder Megatron while everyone watches, because surely Tarn couldn’t actually kill his idealogical idol, because he’s a pussy. Tarn is being very brave about this, only letting the spot blacking on his linework show on his face, as his fists shake with rage.

Then Kaon shows up, begging they pull back their forces until the Pet has been returned, and the spot blacking gets a little heavier.

Tarn, who has had a very long day of tactical meetings, phone calls, facing his fallen idol, having a very unsatisfying beatdown with said idol, and dealing with known freak Overlord, handles Kaon’s inability to be a big boy about misplacing his shitty little dog with all of the tact and decorum we’ve come to know him for— he gives Kaon a big, beefy hug, acknowledges just how much Kaon loves that shitty little dog, and then makes sure that Kaon never has to worry about a thing ever again.

That’s a series wrap on Kaon! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

Tarn, who has had just about enough of Overlord in the last half hour, smashes Kaon’s head onto Overlord’s tits, covering him in viscera, as he demands he be treated with respect, because this is HIS house, where HE’S paying the bills and calling the shots, so help him god. Nickel is very displeased that Tarn’s killed one of the Twinksome Twosome. No word on how Deathsaurus feels about this, considering that a big reason he’s working with Tarn is because he refused to kill the rest of the DJD when demanded to do so, thus showing his dedication to his men. Also no word on how the rest of the DJD are going to handle Tarn decapitating their weed man.

Tarn tells everyone to pony up, as they’re about to go over and handle all the silly little bastards hiding out in the Necrobot’s “fortress”.

Speaking of which, it looks like Megatron made it home, despite Tarn blowing his tits clean off with that cannon blast. Rodimus and Ratchet carry him inside, as Magnus is probably too busy not getting his arm put back on to help, and Megatron is using the last of his energy to hold the Autobot badge Tarn slapped off his chest earlier.

Sure hope Ratchet didn’t forget to tell Drift about his old boss being co-captain of the ship, or else this is going to be a very nasty surprise for both of them— we've already seen that Drift loves to freak out and kill sick people.

[tea-time-with-frogs]

i made some tf2 ocs or i guess more of an au- not sure what to call that

basicly it's the mercs but they live in an old tenement house in Łódź, Poland in the 70's. here's engie and sniper:

Engineer works as a mechanic ( official version, he actually has like 10 jobs with varying degree of illegal) and may or may not be trying to build weapons and a robot army with car parts. His family used to own glassworks and that's going to be important. His flat is like an imrprov meeting place for the team (also pyro lives with him).

Sniper was the start of this au yay!! His polonez truck doesn't work with the timeline but i wanted him to have one sorry. Her name is Basia and that's where he often sleeps since he doesn't like to stay in one place for too long. Besides sniping he also does landscape painting and wildlife reaserch :)) Also Włodek is from Białowieża and you can hear it in his accent. He's embarrassed about it.

They met when snipers car broke down in the middle of nowhere and engie is a pretty charming guy and they shared passion for cars and impressionism art and they became good friends. Sniper stays at engies place when he's around and helps out at the workshop sometimes

[raniamuhanna]

Tent Diaries (4)

Daily Death Meal in Gaza.

The occupation cuts a daily meal of victims in Gaza. It is approximately equivalent to 70 victims. On average. And on days that are semi-stable. Without major and huge events or explosions. And without negotiations in Doha or Cairo. Not a day goes by without cutting this meal. Who is this meal for? And why does it cut it?

The occupation possesses advanced and sophisticated killing tools. They are the most modern in the world. So that the Gaza Strip appears as an open carpet in front of it. Every citizen in the Gaza Strip is exposed to being part of this daily meal that the occupation destroys by firing surprise tank shells at the tents. Blowing up a car of passersby with a missile. Random bombing by Quadcopter aircraft on the displaced in the so-called humanitarian zone. Sniping citizens from long distances. Executions of the elderly, sick and disabled in their homes who were unable to implement the evacuation instructions in the blocks it announces.

The methods by which the occupation surprises citizens and takes them away from them are many and varied. All killings are unnecessary and not urgent from a security and military perspective. The evidence is that the occupation carries out killings in areas that are supposed to be safe. Or that were warned to evacuate. And it regained control over them once, twice, and more.

The only sin of the citizens that the occupation kills in a daily meal is that they were at the wrong time and place in the occupation's estimation. Even though they may be sleeping in their tents. Or children queuing to get a gallon of water.

What benefit does the occupation gain from providing a daily meal of Gazan victims?

This is the literal application of Netanyahu's repeated declarations that the war will not stop. These are the fuel of the war that he presents through the media to his audience and to the world that the war is ongoing. The war cannot continue without daily blood to feed and revive it. And these are the bloods that drive the war every day to deliver it to the next day. And so on.

They are like the fuel of a car whose engine must keep running without stopping until it reaches its final set goals. Can you imagine a day without Palestinian casualties under the pretext that the occupation army is waging a war in Gaza?

This is impossible. It is an Israeli political goal before it is a military goal. It is true that it is possible to imagine that no Israeli soldiers will fall in Gaza. In light of the imbalance of power. But for the occupation, it must continue to kill every day. With or without a pretext. With or without a reason. The important thing is that the number of victims of the daily meal in the media reaches a large number equivalent to seventy victims. So that the war appears to be fierce, fierce and brutal. Less than thirty, for example, is a small number that may raise suspicion that the occupation is waging a fierce war in Gaza. It is a number that does not fit the losses of war.

The killings within the meal are random and irregular: children. Women. The elderly. Suspected militants. But the process of serving the meal itself must be regular, daily, fixed and unchanging. No one has the authority to review, inspect or verify the victims within the meal: the reasons for their extermination, for example. Israel has been able to marginalize everyone who has legal or military authority in the world to do so. But the important thing is that the army presents this meal every day with a lot of theorizing, claims, pictures and justifications to continue the war that will not stop.

Nasser Hospital morgue. Every morning it has become like a box of luck. Or a box of the world. A large number of mutilated and dismembered bodies. These are part of the components of the meal that was cut for one day. Their identities and names can barely be recognized. Families rush to it to identify their sons who were missing throughout the previous night. And those who were led by bad luck. And without an appointment. To exist, sleep or walk in the wrong place where the occupation launches its bombs. To prepare the daily meal and present it to its audience and the world. The happiest mothers then are those who do not find their missing son among the bodies. And she returns hoping that he will return to her from his absence. Or her cell phone rings and his voice comes to her from afar that he is still fine and alive.

Only the bad luck of the victims made them part of this day's meal. But even those who think they are safe in their tents and displacement. And far from the occupation's random choices of death. Bad luck awaits them. It must be repeated at least seventy times a day. In different places. Until the next daily meal is ready for them. No matter how much they think they have taken all the precautions and safety measures to avoid being part of the next meal.

The issue of deducting the daily meal from the lives of the Gazans is one of the most important military decisions of the occupation army in the ongoing war of extermination. As for whether any citizen is included in it. Or not. It is a matter of luck and fate in the first degree.

gofund.me/0a023c9c

[vaxxman]

Do you actually use the vacc all the time? Stock is better for taking out sentries, or no? (genuinely asking)

Please don't learn from my wannabe strategies, they are really not good and very beginner-ish. Actually good medic mains would probably cry at some things that I do. In short, no. It's the same for any other medic weapon, really.

(Really) long answer, which is based on an unreliable "2 months of playing medic nearly every day" is below.

All mediguns are situational, but I follow some personal rule of thumb that goes:

If on attacking team: Stock Medigun If on defending team: Kritzkrieg

(Depicted is the ideal situation shortly before your Kritzkrieg reaches 100%)

I'm not an asshole who denies a good team potential killstreaks with a Kritzkrieg. A good team deserves a good uber. But if that medigun set up doesn't seem to work out with my team (eg. my team is only Demoknights and Market Gardeners / the enemy team has a god-like sniper and is killing everyone at the same spawn door) and the flanking classes are more fit to actually do the objective, I will switch to a different set up.

If on attacking team: Vaccinator If on defending team: Quickfix

(Depicted is what Vaxx encounters 70% of matches on payload maps)

My reason for this is that both of these mediguns focus more on survival, rather than making sudden pushes for ground; ground that the entire team might not be able to keep. I strongly follow the credo of "Don't pocket", so these two fast charging mediguns are perfect for switching around patients during building and uber pop to make sure many people as possible profit from them. They are also much more hectic to play, so most of the time I will switch from Crossbow to Overdose, and from ubersaw to solemn vow, because I am much more vulnerable to spies and flanks from hyper focusing on everyone's healthbars and jumping across the map, trying to keep the team together. Vaccing scouts is incredibly fun, you couldn't imagine until you tried ("Hello Doc, this is Jeremy, your Uber driver to pick you up").

On payload, when my team is pushing, I generally use Vacc and am part of the cart pushing team, unless I see that the team work and positioning is good enough. Upon death I'll respawn with stock to help the power classes who are pushing at the frontline instead, because the cart heals, too, and I trust my team to not die. Sometimes, all it takes for your team to successfully move out and gain ground is some popped bullet resistances on the first person who is leaving spawn to make sure the snipers don't delete them before you even get to the cart.

When I say "play more aggressive as medic" I really just mean being able to stand in the crossfire more often and actively encouraging your patients to go into situations, because they can trust that your 75% resistance will let them survive it (also you just pop the bubble and stress them into GOING IN BEFORE THE EFFECT WEARS OFF). If you run into a sniper sightline and manage to get him to snipe at you while a bullet resistance bubble is popped, the rest of your team can follow you until the sniper has reloaded, and that alone may already have caused enough pressure for the sniper to leave his position. I like to think of Vacc and Stock as the fight-or-flight-reflex triggering mediguns, with Vacc being the medigun that seemingly locks people into battle with you, as people attempt to take you down with focus fire, while Stock causes everyone to flee. Dying with Vacc isn't too bad for your uber charge, and no healing for some seconds is a risk I am willing to take sometimes, if it means I'm drawing the enemies' attention away from my other team mates and wasting their ammo for the last push.

So tldr: Since I'm playing casual mostly, eventually I will use Vaccinator a lot because my alternative is to gamble that one or two players are competent enough to perform extremely well during an 8 second long uber. Yes Stock uber is the best for taking out sentries, but sometimes your team might not be the best for the job.

Whatever people say about medic gameplay being boring, I don't see it, it's super engaging, and extremely strategy heavy to me.

(Depicted are reasons why normal and sane medic mains use Stock vs why Vaxx uses Vaccinator)

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: November 24, 2024

Reworked Character #12: General Morden

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, alcoholism, and torture.

Real name: Donald Humphrei Morden IV

Aliases: Devil Rebirth and Your Excellency

Occupation: General of the Rebel Army, Vice Admiral of the Marine Corps (formerly), Tactical Commander for the Intelligence Agency (formerly), Commander of the Middle Eastern Garrison (formerly), and Field Marshal of the European Garrison (formerly)

Retirement plans: Buy a secluded tropical island, build a cottage in the northern forests of New Brunswick, and raise more exotic pets

Special skills: Political science, wilderness survival, strategic negotiation, planning for ambushes and tactical assaults, and sniping with heavyweight firearms

Hobbies: Reading classical poetry and Shakespearean plays, playing complex piano compositions, studying geopolitical events, building wooden cabins, and hunting

Likes: Forested landscapes, his remaining family, the fearless devotion of his army, finishing things straight to the end, and smoking Cuban cigars before leading off to a battle

Dislikes: Ignorance, objectivity, people with no ambitions, governmental and military corruption, and a lack of proper etiquette and table manners

Favourite food: Creamed salmon spaghetti and maple walnut ice cream

Favourite drink: Scotch whisky

Sexuality: Heteroromantic sapiosexual

Gender: Male

Age: 49 (in 2022), 55 (in 2028), 57 (in 2030), 59 (in 2032), 61 (in 2034), 68 (in 2041), 70 (in 2043), 71 (in 2044), and 74 (in 2047)

Blood type: AB+

Weight: 249 lbs. (113 kg)

Design: He’s a 6’ 5” (195.58 cm) Canadian mesomorph with a chiselled musculature, an upside-down trapezoidal chest, and broad shoulders. He has limestone skin (it was once a rose beige), a cleft chin, a brownish mole on the left side of his nose bridge, sparkling sapphire blue eyes with flecks of blood red, and bushy eyebrows. He has wrinkles on his face, characterised by forehead lines, frown lines, crow’s feet, and nasolabial folds. He has neatly trimmed, chin-length caramel blonde hair with sideburns, a similar moustache that the impostor Morden Robot has in Metal Slug 4, and an encircling band of silver-grey in the centre. When Morden becomes a cyborg, he possesses a revolutionary self-resurrection mechanism. A rhombic dodecahedron microchip embedded in his spine springs into action whenever his vital systems fail. The chip emits a low humming frequency and flashes a cyclical pattern of blue, white, and red for precisely 50 seconds. After this brief interval, he awakens in a newly prepared cyborg body, fully restored and operational with all of his memories intact.

His right eye has been brutally gouged out, which is indicated by the heavy scarring from six stab wounds. This would be replaced by a cutting-edge, cybernetic implant, expertly crafted by the Amadeus Syndicate. The cybernetic orb's sclera has a dark, polished chrome finish, adorned with crimson micro-circuits that mimicked the appearance of veins. At its centre, a pupilless blue-grey iris radiates a soft, luminescent glow. When it transitions to a fiery amber, its intensified brilliance signals heightened alertness and strategic recalibration. Equipped with cutting-edge scanning and data-processing capabilities, this cybernetic implant enables visual recall of critical information, threat detection, and instant recognition of key objects and individuals for future reference.

General Morden wears a pair of rusty orange boxer briefs, a glossy black eyepatch over his cybernetic right eye, and a Persian indigo armband on his left arm, adorned with the insignia of the Rebel Army. He wears a feldgrau military beret, distinguished by a scarlet band with white piping and an embroidered emblem featuring a black dragon's head swallowing a winged gold sword. He wears a white dress shirt and gloves, a flame-coloured tie, a metal dog tag necklace with his name, and a brownish-black leather belt secured with a gilded snap-on buckle.

His shoulders are draped with a long brownish-black coat featuring cuffs edged with scarlet piping, golden maple leaf clasps linked by a chain, a Persian indigo, and a prominent fur collar dyed a pinkish-orange. He wears feldgrau army cargo pants, tucked into black combat boots with spike soles and lined with coyote fur. He wears a feldgrau military coat featuring a left-side white aiguillette, two breast pockets, and a scalloped rear vent with flap pockets. It also features scarlet cuffs and a turned collar with Persian indigo piping, gilt-brass buttons, and golden shoulder boards adorned with two vertical white stripes.

He wears five badges: a black bar with two vertical golden stripes and a horizontal white stripe above his left breast pocket; a gilded skull with draconic wings on the pocket flap; a silver circle with a scarlet X on a white-edged red-orange ribbon and a gilt-brass roaring dragon's head on an ultramarine ribbon, both on his left breast pocket; and a gilded six-pointed star with a scarlet-edged white circle hung on a jade ribbon, secured with a gold clip on his right breast pocket. Morden's belt supports a sheath for his combat knife and a secure strap for his military baton, featuring a white elephant ivory shaft, a scarlet velvet-wrapped grip, and flat-topped gilt-brass end caps, each set with 12 circular rubies.

He wears a drop leg holster for his Chiappa Rhino 40DS revolver and a black bandolier, slung over his left shoulder, holding .357 Magnum cartridges for the firearm. His military coat pockets contain a rose gold lighter, keys to his personal Space Tank, and a treasured photograph of his late family. The pockets of his army cargo pants carry around a pack of Cuban cigars, the Ajirabian Teardrop, a copper-hued flask of Scotch whisky, and a walkie-talkie. He wields an M20 rocket launcher, designed with a leather shoulder strap and featuring an olive green, tan, and dark grey camouflage pattern, which fires anti-tank missiles.

Morden owns the greyish-green Space Tank, a floating tank saucer emblazoned with the Rebel Army insignia on its front. Constructed as a birthday gift and token of allegiance by loyal Rebel Army members and the Pipovulaj Army, this vehicle incorporates advanced Martian and Tuatha Dé Danann technology. The Space Tank's upper body bears a striking resemblance to the Dai-Manji, while its dark grey chassis is reminiscent of the Nop-03 Sarubia's. The tank boasts extremely thick armour, a silver antenna protruding from its left side, and a gold-painted rim accented with a scarlet edge. Primarily serving as his personal transportation, the Space Tank can also be deployed on the battlefield when necessary.

It features a built-in metallic blue cannon that can only be activated by inserting the Ajirabian Teardrop into a designated slot within the tank. This action opens the front compartment, exposing a large cannon similar to the Denturion's. When deployed, the cannon extends, allowing Morden to tap into the laser power of the Ajirabian Teardrop

Character summary: Previously, General Morden was a compassionate, dependable, and reliable leader who deeply valued the lives of every soldier under his command. However, the tragic loss of his family, exacerbated by the government's and military's corruption and culpable inaction, ignited a desire for vengeance. He seeks to topple an unjust system, even if it requires dismantling all governmental powers. His vision for the New World involves unifying warring nations under a rigid, authoritarian regime, achieved by overthrowing the Earth Federation and eliminating its allies through forced assimilation and strategic neutralisation. Despite being a charismatic and adaptable leader with a strong sense of justice, he ultimately descended into ruthlessness and megalomania, becoming a bumbling madman. Upon encountering his enemies, he frequently erupts into mocking laughter, regarding them as feeble-minded and ignorant foes. Nonetheless, even in the face of humiliation and defeat, Morden’s dignity, charisma, and commanding skill always remains the same.

Despite being an atrocious person who comes across as mean and cold, he’s surprisingly sweet and kind, especially towards those who support his ambition, work alongside him or are part of his family lineage. He's a tough, efficient, and introspective individual who can be demanding of his soldiers, yet he feels genuine empathy and understanding for his troops. Although he's prone to frustration when missions don't go as planned, he never gives up. Despite the challenges, he consistently demonstrates resilience and determination, always pushing forward to achieve his objectives. General Morden is a man full of pride, often boasting about his greatest feats on the battlefield. Depending on the situation, he'll abandon his position behind the battle lines and fearlessly charge into combat. He lives by a personal code of honour that prioritises restraint, avoiding unnecessary violence whenever possible. He isn't afraid to make sacrifices when necessary and occasionally spares or even helps civilians, showing a glimmer of empathy beyond his military duties.

He's an exceptionally intelligent and cunning strategist, always thinking several steps ahead of his adversaries. A skilled manipulator, he expertly entices others to do his bidding through false promises and strategic persuasion. However, he's highly resistant to manipulation himself, and his sharp wit and worldly wisdom makes him immune to naivety. If he discovers someone attempting to deceive him, he'll confront them directly and give them a nasty glare that conveys a clear message: he sees through their ruse, and denial will only worsen their situation. When he's drunk, he becomes sorrowful, careless, and overly attached around Sagan and Logan, grows increasingly agitated, and frequently mumbles incoherently and gazes blankly upwards.

Whenever he encounters a pair of glowing red eyes, he's tantalised by their whispered promises of safety and growth. Yet, he hesitates to follow, unsure if the allure is genuine or just a product of his own fevered imagination. He's a melancholic, cautious, and headstrong individual who shows mercy to his subordinates, excels at evading capture, and indulges in life's luxuries. Loyalty and camaraderie are paramount to him, but betrayal from within the Rebel Army is an unforgivable offence. Morden’s intolerance for failure is absolute; those who deliberately falter face severe punishment or elimination. His ego is easily bruised by ridicule or underestimation from his enemies, threatening his self-image as a fearless warrior and exceptional leader. He has no qualms about torturing and executing enemies and traitors, whether publicly or privately, and considers advancements in military technology to be essential to achieving his objectives.

He struggles with mild alcoholism as a coping mechanism for the loss of his family, borderline personality disorder, practognostic dyscalculia, trypophobia triggered by honeycombs and decaying flesh, and the fear of dying a dishonourable and gruesome death. He views domestic cats as a far cry from their majestic ancestors and larger wild relatives, often going so far as to forcefully shoo them away. Although capable of aggression and violence, he usually maintains a calculating, serious, and calm demeanour. However, beneath his surface lies a volatile temper that periodically ignites into explosive outbursts when overwhelmed by intense feelings of rage, shame, and self-loathing. Despite his resolute ambition, he secretly grapples with the moral implications of his actions. His doubts are ever-present, but he consistently prioritises his goals over his conscience. His courage falters only when faced with extremely bleak circumstances or painful reminders of his family's tragic loss.

He generally tolerates his troops' actions against external parties, but draws a firm line when it comes to harming their own comrades. He's a strict disciplinarian, swiftly addressing conflicts and misconduct amongst his ranks. When issues arise, he demands accountability, forcing the offending soldier or group to apologise, backing this demand with the threat of demotion or public embarrassment. He views the Rebel Army as a surrogate family and enjoys celebrating victories and spending downtime with them. He cherishes Allen's friendship, appreciating him as a trusted companion for casual nights out and lively conversations, but Allen's impulsivity and relentless drive for action often test his patience. He feels a pang of jealousy towards Allen, which he keeps secret, because Allen's family is still alive, whereas his own family is either deceased or estranged.

He gets along well with Doctor Amadeus, who demonstrates genuine interest in his cause and the technological advancement of the Rebel Army. Although he admires her genius-level intellect, finding it captivating and beautiful, he’s sometimes intimidated by her calculating and enigmatic nature. He secretly harbours a deep-seated fear of Rootmars, knowing she has the power to effortlessly crush him and his army if he incurs her wrath. Despite this, he holds Rootmars in high esteem, admiring her leadership skills and formidable reputation, even if their visions for the New World greatly differ. He regards Ptolemaios with skepticism, stemming from his disdain for cults and religious extremism, compounded by their past confrontation during the Arms Deal Barrage. Additionally, Ptolemaios' reluctance to engage directly on the battlefield raises concerns. Nevertheless, he acknowledges his exceptional wisdom and deeply respects his unwavering commitment to leading the Ptolemaic Army.

He’s fiercely devoted to his younger cousins, Sagan and Logan, the only family members he remains in contact with, and will stop at nothing to ensure their safety and happiness. He’s extremely protective of Sagan and Logan, treating them like his own children. He goes out of his way to safeguard them, swiftly and aggressively defending them against anyone who poses a threat, causes harm or violates their personal boundaries. However, when Sagan and Logan disagree or get physical with each other, General Morden calmly intervenes, resolving their conflicts with a gentle yet firm, understanding, and patient approach. He has zero tolerance for Sagan's habits of casually issuing death threats and making crude remarks about her comrades, whether jokingly or seriously. He also dislikes how Logan occasionally disregards Sagan's wishes, intentionally doing things she's explicitly forbidden, which often escalates into heated arguments or fights. Furthermore, Logan's tendency to engage in physical altercations with comrades and getting disoriented when exploring the wilderness consistently gets under his skin.

Morden and Tequila were once inseparable friends, sharing stories of their lives over drinks and exploring exotic destinations that Tequila had always wanted to visit. He deeply admired Tequila's worldly wisdom, courage, and profound insight into the human condition. However, their bond was severed when Morden's lust for global domination took hold, driving Tequila away and forcing him to turn against his former friend. The betrayal left a bitter taste in Morden's mouth, a painful reminder of the friendship he had lost. He has a deep-seated hatred for Marco and Tarma, as they foiled his nearly successful plan to achieve his vision of a New World during the Great Morden War. He especially despises Marco, who gouged out his eye at the end of the Great Morden War and played a role in getting the original Sagan killed during the Extraterrestrial Alliance Clash.

Backstory: Donald Oghma Morden IV was born on January 24, 1973 in New Brunswick, Canada. He hails from a long lineage of hunters, courageous soldiers, militant commanders, esteemed politicians, and wealthy businessmen. However, whispers abound that he's the direct descendant of a legendary Tuatha Dé Danann sovereign, fabled to have played a pivotal role in the downfall of Atlantis. The Morden name originates from a British family that served as royal advisors, food merchants, and nobles in the 19th century. Although they were of British origin, they resided in Germany, specifically within the Fortress of Königsdrache. From this strategic location, they exerted significant influence on the country's politics and military affairs. During the Napoleonic Wars, the Mordens distinguished themselves as exceptional leaders and skilled soldiers, renowned for their strategic intellect rather than brute force.

He was born into a large, middle-class Canadian family, being the sixth of eight children with three older brothers, an older sister, and a younger brother and sister. His siblings, from oldest to youngest, are Edmund, a successful woodcutting industry businessman; Quentin; Timothy, a Private in the Eurasian Garrison; Kourtney; Reynold; and Vanessa, a supervisor in food packaging manufacturing. His grandfather, Donald Humphrei Morden III, was a seasoned, worldly-wise veteran who retired after the birth of his fifth grandchild and subsequently pursued a career in hunting and sustainable meat production. His father, a Corporal in the North American Garrison, was known for his adventurous and carefree spirit. His mother, a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps, balanced stern discipline with tender affection. Due to their demanding military careers, his parents had limited time with him and his six siblings, relying on his grandfather to provide regular care and support.

Although Morden keeps his childhood private, a few details have emerged. Remarkably, all of his siblings demonstrated exceptional intelligence, but Morden's rapid development surpassed them all. This stirred jealousy among his older siblings, who admired his swift intellectual growth, while his younger siblings looked up to him in awe. Despite this, he was incredibly close to his siblings, sharing countless hours exploring the nearby woods and enjoying board games together. Donald III taught Morden entrepreneurship basics, war history, and practical skills like hunting, wood-chopping, and shelter-building. Whenever his mother was home on leave, she would delight him with piano music, fostering a deep love for the instrument. At just 7 months, he spoke his first word: "papa”. Between ages 2 and 5, he demonstrated remarkable autodidactic abilities, exploring diverse subjects that he grasped with ease, including sociology and legal theory. By age 6, he had become a budding piano prodigy and began reading Shakespearean plays and sonnets.

At the age of 7, Quentin was diagnosed with sickle cell disease, a condition prevalent in the Morden family. Tragedy struck again a year later when Reynold went missing during a nature walk, and his father was fatally shot in combat. Six months later, he stumbled upon Reynold's mutilated, rotting corpse, infested with maggots and covered in fungal growth. The gruesome sight triggered his trypophobia, and ever since, the image of honeycombs infested with bees and decaying matter would evoke unsettling memories of that incident. Before Morden turned 10, Quentin died from health complications. Just a month later, his mother was tragically killed in an unexpected airstrike ambush. At age 12, Donald III mercy-killed Kourtney, who suffered from multiple sclerosis and debilitating complications following numerous surgeries that severely impacted her health and mobility.

As Donald III struggled with a terminal brain tumour, he made the difficult decision to place Morden and Vanessa into the Regular Army's orphan program to ensure their care. Meanwhile, Edmund relocated to Saskatchewan with Timothy, seeking a fresh start and a brighter future for the two. The series of tragic losses had left the family fractured, and Donald's remaining siblings lacked the emotional resilience to keep the family together. Morden felt deeply abandoned and betrayed as Edmund and Timothy departed, leaving their dying grandfather and younger siblings behind. Vanessa, overwhelmed by grief, deliberately distanced herself from Morden. In contrast, the Regular Army provided Morden and his younger sister with stability and support, covering their essential needs. He wondered if he had more relatives and set out to find additional family members while balancing his education, but eventually abandoned his search when he couldn't locate any direct blood relatives.

He met his future wife, Penelope, in grade 11 and began dating her, forming a strong romantic connection. After graduating at the top of his high school class with highest grades, Honour Roll distinction, and six prestigious awards (five scholarships and one bursary), he went on to study geopolitics, jurisprudence, and Marxist sociology at university. At 22, he married his high school sweetheart in a shotgun wedding after learning she was pregnant with their daughter, Dorothy. Three years later, they welcomed their son, Lawrence.

After graduating at the top of his class from university, he relocated to Riyadh and enlisted in the Regular Army Marine Corps. His exceptional leadership skills and tactical expertise propelled him to attain the rank of Vice Admiral. He then assumed roles as Tactical Commander for the Intelligence Agency and Commander of the Middle Eastern Garrison. Following his transfer to Cumbria in North West England, he was reassigned to the European Garrison, where he achieved the esteemed rank of Field Marshal. During his time in the military, he earned a reputation as being a tough, efficient, and caring officer of the Regular Army, and is held in high regard by his troops as he treated them with equal amounts of respect. He was also known for being a devoted and compassionate father to Dorothy and Lawrence, and a loving and supportive husband.

After Morden joined the Regular Army, Sagan and Logan became aware of his existence due to his impressive reputation and some family photographs their father had received from Edmund. Intrigued, they were surprised to learn they had an older cousin. Eager to connect, they decided to arrange a meeting with him. They sent Morden a letter inviting him to meet with them in Bavaria, where the Fortress of Königsdrache is located. When Morden travelled to the location, he met Sagan and Logan, and they had a warm and engaging conversation, getting to know each other and finally uniting as family.

Alongside Sagan, Logan, and other key figures in the Arms Deal Barrage, he would learn about the Regular Army's deep-seated corruption, but he kept it a secret. He was primarily responsible for conducting investigations, planning attacks, and launching ambushes on the Serapion Fellowship. However, he did join the fight once his team reached the fortress. There, he and a platoon of his loyal soldiers faced off against Colonel Hilde Garn in his Metal Strider. Despite their efforts, they were unable to capture him in time, as a group of Serapion Fellowship guerrilla fighters caught them off guard.

In 2023, during a trip to Ottawa, the Central Park bombing shook the city, claiming the lives of many innocent victims, including Penelope, Dorothy, and Lawrence. Having survived the devastating attack, Morden discovered that it was allegedly linked to an intelligence failure within the Regular Army and widespread corruption within the government and military at the time. After relying on alcohol to cope with his sadness and anger, he resigned from the Regular Army, retreated from public view, and began secretly planning a rebellion. Many loyal followers from his Regular Army days chose to stand by him, and with the support of Sagan, Logan, and his most trusted soldier, Allen O'Neil, he initiated plans for a coup aimed at rooting out corruption within the government and military.

He assumed the rank of General and formed the Rebel Army, drawing support from disillusioned Regular Army personnel and multiple radical organisations sympathetic to his ideology. During his time building up the Rebel Army, Sagan and Logan transferred ownership rights of the Fortress of Königsdrache to General Morden. As the last remaining Armitage family members, Sagan and Logan originally inherited the Fortress of Königsdrache, but chose to bestow it upon General Morden as a token of gratitude and respect. Morden was also gifted six exotic pets by his most loyal men: a serval named Othello, a Burmese python named Sycorax, a blotched blue-tongued skink named Troilus, an African grey parrot named Cymbeline, a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog named Banquo, and a capybara named Desdemona.

His mental state deteriorating, he amassed power and resources for a large-scale offensive. In 2026, Morden initiated his coup d'état, seeking to dismantle the Earth Federation and its alliances and establish global dominance. The Rebel Army, led by General Morden, swiftly defeated the Regular Army and seized control of all major cities worldwide within 170 hours. Upon receiving intel from Madoka that the Regular Army had begun mass-producing the SV-001, codenamed "Metal Slug”, following successful testing, Morden launched a strategic attack. His objective was to destroy the factories manufacturing the SV-001 and capture the units already built.

Upon learning of Morden's betrayal, his ruthlessness, and his remarkably swift coup d'état, as well as the destruction of the SV-001 factories, the US President declared him as the reincarnation of the devil. As Marco and his resistance approached the Rebel Army's base, he and his forces launched a surprise ambush, intent on halting their progress and clearing the way for Morden's plan for global dominance. By eliminating the resistance, Morden aimed to unlock the Metal Slug's full potential without further interference. He would be responsible for brutally executing Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye in front of Marco and Tarma, shooting them in the head with his Chiappa Rhino 40DS revolver. Before the execution, he gruesomely gouged out Marco's left eye and then ordered Allen O'Neil to sever his left arm.

In the final showdown of the Great Morden War, Marco gruesomely gouged out General Morden's eye, avenging the torture he and Tarma endured and the execution of his comrades and friends. The Great Morden War served as a stark wake-up call for the Regular Army, prompting a significant shift in their approach to counterterrorism. In the aftermath of the war, the Regular Army began to take terrorist threats with utmost seriousness, reevaluating their strategies and protocols to prevent future attacks. He felt a sense of pride knowing that his efforts had contributed to the Regular Army taking terrorism more seriously, marking a small but positive change.

After escaping imprisonment with support from the Rebel Army and Pipovulaj Army, he secretly allied with Doctor Amadeus to exploit her knowledge of Tuatha Dé Danann technology and bioweapon development. This alliance would pave the way for the mass production of specialised cyborgs and lethal mechanical constructs for Rebel Army use, the enhancement of Königsdrache Fortress through the integration of mechanical and defensive upgrades, the creation of Wysteria, the revival of Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye, and the development of terrifying creations such as the Flying Killers and Mutated Soldiers. He planned to utilise Wysteria as the ultimate bioweapon to achieve global dominance, and deploy Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye as super soldiers to serve the interests of the Rebel Army and Amadeus Syndicate.

When he formed an alliance with Doctor Amadeus, she gifted him a canine experiment named Enobarbus, who could breathe fire, as a sign of respect. This is made possible by the dog's salivary glands, which produce enzymes that generate heat and flames when they react to oxygen. This canine experiment is a 8’ 1” (246.38 cm) burly wolf with razor-sharp silver-grey teeth, prominent fangs, glowing amber eyes, and a thick Prussian blue coat that gradually transitions to a watery blue and pure white at the ears, paws, and tail tip.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

Lemme do a small gameplay take cuz the takes ain't flowing much:

I think the Hoshido sisters are some of the best units out of the siblings.

Hear me out! And maybe this is just my luck with the rng gods but listen!

We know Ryoma is like the most OP with a rather good Def and Res and with Astra very early on (as in like a few levels after you get him), he is pretty great without using extra seals, anything else is a surplus.

However the rest of the siblings both in Nohr and Hoshido don't share this trait, you could make the case with Leo since he gets lifetaker not long after getting him but it takes SO.LONG. to grow his sword usage so he could use his ice blade that has a better attack than the Brynhyldr (yes i had to google the name).

So let me give you a run down, this is with heart and partner seals mostly btw (i didn't want to use friendship yet cuz omg i need to do a lot of math and give it a lot more time) not just growing to the one that makes more sense for the character.

I feel like after Ryoma in a 1 to 9 list of sibling units in Fates it's Hinoka. She can get without external help Rend Heaven and Quixontic (the latter helping any other active abilities) and can get Amaterasu which just really fits with the character because she is the nicest (besides Elise) to all of the army remembering their names and being considerate with em.

In my first run I married her to Hinata which gave her Astra and vantage and, because of the Quixontic, she was a fucking killing machine. You also can really make use of her magic stat with the bolt nagonata, she just snipes almost anyone that gets in front of her.

Camilla has a very similar situation, with Savage Blow very easy to get and Lifetaker as well, she is pretty great. However with her axe she doesn't snipe as often as Hinoka, maybe that's just my luck, i have them both on the same level. Bolt axe also works super well with Camilla. I think Camilla's biggest problem is her rather low Res compared to Hinoka, since both have very similar defense and both could easily crumble with a small arrow.

Then Sakura and Elise are super close in ranking but Sakura wins because she has pretty solid defense and resistence, which some might say it's not that big of a deal, bit with Mirage and Miracle and Renewall she is a great tank, just give her a shining bow and she is sniping bitches left and right, i also gave her Lethality with Saizo and can easily get Astra with Hana, so she is a BEAST.

She was the only one that could resist really an attack from Anankos, unlike the rest of the sibs (from what i was able to see, again my luck and opportunity didn't allow me to test all) that would end with like a third or an eight if their life after attacking Anankos, she was left with 5/12's like almost a half and with dragon ward it was better, she was chilling.

Elise is also fantastic, especially of you get her Savage blow and lifetaker, with the moonlight tome, she can take maybe 2 rounds at most, but she is still a glass canon all things considered, she does base like 70 HP a lot of the time but they can easily kill her.

Leo, again pretty great overall with Savage blow, Lifetaker and I was able to give him Sol with Charlotte which really helped him because he is also a bit of a glass canon just that he doesn't pack as much punch as Elise can, magic wise.

Xander, though a great tank, he really needs someone else active in battle to help him dispatch cuz both Siegfried and his Lance don't pack as much punch as like Raijinto for example. I was able to give him Luna besides Aegis and Savage blow because i married him to Beruka but it still had quite a but to be desired.

Takumi, maybe i didn't grew him right, bit he is more of a glass canon than Elise frfr, he can barely, maybe endure a turn tbh. The Fujin Yumi being only 2 range really makes him super vulnerable and, even with rend heaven and quixonic, maybe astra and vantage or lifetaker he could be better but idk he was just very brittle overall, which is interesting cuz he actually has a more than decent defense.

Azura for me was the hardest to grow, maybe because i married her with Jakob un my Rev playthrough, maybe with Arthur or Kaden (her husbands in my conquest and Birthright plays) she could be a bit better with Sol and 5+ HP or Rend Heaven and Quixotic, cuz i only was able to get her some falcon knight and kinshi knight stuff that isn't súper active or helpful. Maybe with miracle and renewal too but idk. She really needs some armor jeez.

Anywho my ranking from strongest sib to weakest:

Ryoma (good base, can get great surpluses)

Hinoka (super flexible in the best ways, could both be a super or an amazing healer)

Sakura (great tank with healing abilities, give her magic bow and bang bang)

Elise (Glass canon that could endure more if you train her more)

Camilla (Great unit but doesn't snipe as much and cannot heal so she is more of a one trick wonder, sadly. Maybe if she were a War cleric, she would rock)

Leo (also very flexible but not enough to be great, gotta kneed him and work him to be great)

Xander (Good tank, needs a lot of help killing tho and a lot of kneeding too)

Takumi (also need a ton of kneeding to be good but fujin yumi really leaves him vulnerable multiple times)

Azura (cousin, put on some armor you are gonna die for the 35th time PLEASE-) (maybe in a level with a ton of sourcerers, since she has actually a pretty good res, with a hexlock spear, a javalin and a good protect buddy and healing buddy, it would be a massacre)

.

[noblebs]

rating OC headcanons

Rules: use this headcanon generator to generate some headcanons for your OCs! How accurate are they?

tagged by @fortunatetragedy, thank you! I'll use the EWT trio

-Orion can play the guitar. (she can't play anything, but if she were to learn she'd go for piano first) -It would not take much for Orion to turn evil. (LMAOOOO extremely true) -Orion listens to 80s music. (I mean. the 80s wasn't that long ago for him. but he still listens to 30s-70s music too, so...)

-Devilant reads wattpad. (bro he doesn't have internet. or a computer.) -Devilant gets road rage (BRO HE CAN'T DRIVE) -If Devilant likes someone, they will give them a pretty rock. ("giving a pretty rock" is what Orion calls--I am sniped from a tall building)

-Madrigal makes your mom jokes. (no, she thinks they're dumb) -Madrigal can't handle criticism. (an understatement.....) -Madrigal is not good with social cues. (I'd say it's not that she isn't good with them, she simply chooses to ignore them lmao)

tagging @writernopal @jezifster @rhikasa @ryns-ramblings @revenantlore & open tag :)

[faeriekit]

If you'd like a weird medical experience: So, when I was still in pharmacy school I ended up getting an infection in my leg. Thought it was blemish and went after it - it was probably a bug bite. Anyways, since pharmacy students are nuts, I dealt with it myself for 4 days before going to get it checked. It was starting to heal, so I can say I did well taking care of it. Got put on 2 antibiotics when I finally got it looked at. During the week I was on it, I developed severe insomnia, upset stomach and a high fever. Thought I was just getting the flu. Nope, it was an allergic reaction, but it was presenting so strangely it didn't register until the 2nd to last dose at 11:00pm where I noticed a rash on my hands. Fast forward to the next morning, the rash worsened. Mum had gone to work. And dad decided that going to church was more important than taking me to the hospital. Then Dad forgot he needed to take me to the hospital and went grocery shopping. And I decided to get a shower in the meantime - this is a weird family tradition before hospital visits.

Finally get to the hospital. Blood pressure was 70/30 and temp was 102.7. And I was going into multi-organ failure. Anaphylaxis sucks.

But, the kicker was once medical team got me stabilized, my immune system temporarily shut down so it could reboot itself. Didn't know it could do that, but it did. And I was in an isolation room for 3 days.

But the lesson for me was that, sometimes, modern medicine is just as dangerous as the infection. The fever was a unique allergy symptom to the antibiotic I was allergic to.

*dabs badly* you never know when your own bod will snipe you from behind. Yeah, medical students of any field are always the last to get looked at for anything. I'm glad you didn't collapse on the shower on your way in! I'm very sorry for the rest of it! 💀

[variousqueerthings]

@brilliantfantasticgeronimo (whenever I type out your name, tumblr refuses to acknowledge your blog's existence RIP)

SO the thing about the Doctor as power fantasy. that thing that is at the centre of a lot of M*ffat writing, and is first absolutely encapsulated in The Pandorica Opens and continues getting worse throughout his tenure

so the Doctor as apparent power fantasy to me is several things

1.when RTD rebooted the show, he was very explicit about wanting to centre the companion characters and have them be the POV, allowing their lives to be important to the stories. And so you got Rose choosing to become The Bad Wolf (amongst other things), Martha wandering the earth for a year (amongst other things), Donna in Turn Left (amongst other things), and all those recurring characters who each have important plot and emotional Stuff that is at the core of the narrative

the Doctor almost dies numerous times, but for these characters saving them, including single episode characters, so this idea that the Doctor lands someplace and ruins everyone's day by being so Badass and Awestriking isn't really a Thing in Nu!Who outside of some of the Doctor's worst fears of hurting everyone they touch and is specifically brought up in order to be shut down... until M*ffat

2. but what about Classic!Who? I've only seen episodes across various random seasons, and then mooost of the way up until Tom Baker so far, but Classic!Who also did not do this from what I've seen. While the companions (the women) were often more assistant-based and in miniskirts (like Amy P- *gets sniped*), I've actually found they do a heck of a lot more than I think someone (M*ffat) gave them credit for when he first started his showrunner tenure. reminds me of when he did his version of the First Doctor and made him way more sexist than the show did in 1963...

and also the Doctor in the classics, crucially, is still just some guy. kind of like Mad Max, drops into places and is dragged into events (but overall with less Action Man than someone like Max). a lot of the time the Doctor is doing the sciencey stuff, and the Companion is doing some other part of the story (Jo Grant in The Mutants my beloved)

3. So the Doctor doesn't really exist like this usually -- tellingly the Doctor in fact fails to be this in Waters of Mars, because of one human woman, so... anyway. It's incorrect characterisation of the Doctor's role in the story

4. and it removes the power fantasy from the Companions, who are after all the ones who are experiencing a story that we can step into. the near-immortal alien that's apparently now The Most Important Powerful Dangerous Awe-Inspiring being in the Universe is not someone who's able to really inhabit that role, but that girl from the estate who never completed her A-levels? the medical student who's always fixing her family's drama? the woman in her 30s whose life hasn't come together like she hoped? for them to be powerful, to have the ability to change the Universe? Yeah, that's cool, that's a great power fantasy

5. it makes me think of that clip from that one guy who was in some way in charge of some part of the show in like. late 70s I think. who was talking about how he definitely wasn't sexist for saying that the Companion was really a bit of something for the Dads, rather than, idk... an interesting character

to people like that it's all about the Doctor, and I can theorise why. I can theorise that they want to be this dude who can fix everything, solve everything, and for M*ffat, who's so badass that people run from his very word... but Amy is right there, and where is she during this sequence, where the Doctor is telling every alien species to fucking try it, because he's so cool?

she's unconscious somewhere in the catacombs beneath. not like. dream badassery in the writing of the near-finale there, and although on the surface it's not too dissimilar from second-last episodes in previous seasons (Rose is captured by the Daleks, Martha is alone and friendless, Donna is hanging around in the Tardis for the Doctor to know what to do next), it's all in what happens next-

and now I've seen the following episode, Amy basically runs around after the Doctor and then gets married, and then remembers the Doctor, and it's... it's fine... it's like. it's fine, I don't hate it, but it's really just her doing exactly what the Doctor told her to do. Amy has things done to her, and does what she's told most of the time (not all the time, but most of the time), and certainly that's her role in s5

the Doctor, by contrast, is now this massive presence that shifts the whole Universe. it's this massive shift from everything that's come before, and make me wonder whose narrative are we watching? we're not the Doctor, we are the companions, and in this era, as companions we... wait around for the Doctor... to do.... something.....

6. also one you've watched a couple of M*ffat things, which sadly I have, you notice he does this all the damn time. the most obvious comparison is Sherlock is also the most important interesting specialist guy ever, (who therefore has licence to be a dick). everyone orbits around him, especially the hot sexually confident women who wish they could be with him

we're there to be In Awe Of The Special People

also Steven M*ffat thinks he is the Special People

[saytrrose]

What if Kinger and Queenie played video games together and Kinger was cracked on complete accident-

Like 70% of the time he dies instantly but the other 30% he accidentally cooks people

Like they're playing DBD and Queenie is down in front of a locker and Kinger panics and hits a Locker CJ and begins screaming

(I expect you to have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm just yapping fr)

THAYS SO FUNNY fr-

Kinger somehow sniping people from a mile away…

I think Queenie often has to carry Kinger in most games tbh- she’s also the type to be arguing and screaming at people over the mic while Kinger is more so tries to be super friendly and insults fly over his head

[coffee-at-annies]

Oh! For the mash-up trope ask- 53 and 70 for The Core?

53+70: Mutual Pining+Locked in a Room 

Yes yes yes! Good. Excellent. Love it.

Gonna do a quick scaffold then see how excited the muse gets for actual writing.

So the boys are locked in a room. It’s big enough for the three of them but it’s definitely like a walk in closet or a trainers office. This is during training camp. One of the rookies/new guys thought it would be funny. None of the core are laughing.

Sid keeps banging on the door hoping someone will hear him. Kris has already tried texting for help but he’s got no cell service and something is wrong with his phone’s WiFi. Geno, is glaring at the wall in a corner. Eventually someone is gonna have to walk by and realize they’re in there. Or it’ll hit skate time, video review, or some other meeting, and people will notice they’re missing. The person will have to tell someone and he’ll have to let them out. They won’t be locked in here forever.

In the meantime, they’re locked in a room. Kris is annoyed because they should have locked Sid and Geno in a room together years ago (trust him, he and Flower discussed it) so they’d get over their pining, but why’d it have to include him? Kris is under the impression Sid and Geno got together after the 16-17 cups. They did. It didn’t work out.

Sid and Geno dated briefly during the 17-18 season, broke up sometime fall of 18, and have been on-again-off-again sometimes partners sometimes fuckbuddies ever since. They can’t stay away from each other but every time they give the relationship a shot it fizzles after a couple months. They’ve never lasted over a summer and it’s hard. They were in an off period during Geno’s contract negotiations which added a lot of stress. They do love each other and miss each other when they’re not together, hence the mutual pining on their end, but they haven’t figured out how to make it work in a way that sticks.

It’s been a longer than usual off season and they both missed each other terribly. Neither of them wants to suggest getting back together just yet because I do think it ended badly in the spring but the summer apart soothed their hurts and stirred up the pining so they’re back to missing each other. Both of them are trying very hard not to think about how that conversation is on the horizon, especially since they’re locked in a room with their close friend who they’ve never officially told they’re dating.

Fun fact about these two, they’re also both interested in Kris, which Kris doesn’t know. Idk if Sid and Geno have talked to each about their mutual attraction to Kris but it’s there, and it makes the feelings conversation harder.

Kris now, he kinda fell in love with both of them at different points in the last couple years. Between Flower and Duper leaving, stepping up into the alternate captain role, everything about the pandemic and the stuff after, he just ended up spending a lot of time with them organically and feelings started blossoming on his end. He’s not gonna act on it with his two friends that are together.

The time they spent is why he thinks they’re together. They never explained the breakups or makeups or any of the complicated relationship drama. They’ve never even told him they were together, Tanger just knows them well enough to pick up on it and what they stopped hiding.

Having said all of that I have no idea how this fic actually resolves. It’s been a hot minute since my brain wanted to juggle dialogue and I really should stretch myself to write it but it’s midnight and it’s a school night. I have to be up at 8am to go into work.

Sid bangs on the door. Geno snipes at him about it. Sid turns around to yell at him cause calling for help isn’t working. I think they go back and forth for a while and then Tanger makes a joke about getting a room or seven minutes in heaven in an attempt to diffuse the tension and accidentally gets both of them staring at him. They admit they’re not together. Tanger doesn’t know how to react to that. I’m not sure how the convo gets to the feelings admission. Maybe Tanger asks what happened and they have to explain?

I think during the convo Sid admits that even when they’re off he’s not seeing or sleeping with anyone. The one time he tried to hookup he just ended up missing Geno. Geno probably echos the same. It’s cute. Maybe the couple is back together. Maybe they even kiss. Idk.

I’m unclear how we get to Tanger confessing. Does he mumble something about wishing he could have been that rebound hookup that didn’t go anywhere? Does he say something about how he thought they were together so he never said anything? Does Sid try and echo his joke about getting a room and Tanger admits that he doesn’t hate it since it’s them. Idk. Somewhere in there Tanger admits his feelings, maybe before getting Sid and Geno back together, maybe after.

Either way both Sid and Geno are like wait you like me/us? Tanger wants them to forget it but when has Sid ever forgotten a thing once he’s set his eyes on it? When has Geno taken his eyes off the puck? Anyway I think they lock eyes and decide they’re seducing him, which they do. There’s maybe love/feelings confessions in there but there’s also a bunch of kissing and maybe some blow jobs so Kris can see how much they care for him as well. It’s a good moment. Geno suggests that maybe the reason him and Sid never worked out is because they didn’t have Kris. It’s the three of them on the ice, maybe they need the three of them off the ice to work too. Sid likes that very much and Kris just had an orgasm so he’s feeling pretty agreeable.

It’s still not until an hour after that that they get let out of the room. They have time to negotiate and plan their relationship. Also cuddles (geno gets cuddly after orgasms, not that he’d admit it).