It's EASY to fly from point A to point B. Linear. Just on long, no traffic, straight line. And if you get lost? Go higher! There you are! But "normal" reporter families with Totally Human genetics can't exactly DO that.
Plus? It's part of the whole Americana thing!
Childhood.
Gotta do a road trip, see weird road side attractions, camp and hike a bit. Go somewhere other then the farm for once. Soooo~ everyone into the car! Yes, you too, Kon.
And don't look at Lois, kids. She hates this idea as much as you do. But it's for Dad. So we're doing it. Get in the car. Some times loving people means "suuuure, honey! I TOTALLY want to sit in an uncomfortable car for hours for your nostalgic dream trip!", so get comfy.
Problem is? He either can't navigate for SHIT (unlikely) or this patch of nowhere? Possibly haunted? Cursed? Fuckey. Very, very Reality Fuckey. Far more likely, honestly. They THINK that was the a same barn the passed four times now... but it looks... wrong? Off. Worse each time, in ways that are hard to place.
Where the FUCK are they Clark?
According to the GPS?
Oh, THAT'S not cursed! She fucking KNEW they shouldn't have left the city. FUCK the countryside. She likes ONE(1) small town and it's where her in-laws live, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! If they die, she swear to GOD-!!!
Then Jon points to colorful tents up the road. A mix of the kind you buy at big box stores and Ren fairs. Balloons. What the fuuuuuck? "Fenton Family Reunion"?
Was... was that THERE a second ago?
Clark's very deliberate Not Too Tight Grip Of Panic ™ on the steering wheel? Confirms that No Honey, it was not. Kon points out? That eventually they ARE going to run out of gas. They should stop.
Words can not express how little the Kents want to do that. They have KIDS to protect. This feels "magical fuckery" to them. AKA? One of the few things Kryptonians very much CAN NOT handle.
And luck getting ahold of anybody back there kids? No? Emergency lines too?
Fuck ™.
Okay! Guess we're stopping! Stay behind us.
They park.
There are campers and trucks, modified tanks and trackers. A few horses grazing side by side with an honest to God moose and two mules. A Llama. Someone's anchored a dirigible. A boat with spindly chicken footed legs, like it's the house of baba yaga's sea faring love child. The name Fenton is slapped on everything. Peoples faces.
Grinning.
Everything grinning.
As they get closer, the racket gets louder. Crashes and smashes. Roaring laughter. Explosions. The screech of metal failing and the whine of energy overclocked. Fatty meats cooking. Spices from around the globe. Radios and instruments, at least one of which violently cuts off in a smash.
They pass an almost violently balloon choked arch, into chaos.
Grinning giants, everywhere. Every color, every shade, every race imaginable. The spectrum of humanity laid bare. Made large. Grinning, Grinning, Grinning. Crashing into each other, against, through. Smashing and laughing, as everything breaks around them. Titans.
Darting underfoot, children. Fast with wild eyes. Mad grins and fae laughs. Wives and husband's, partners and friends, dancing in and out of the chaos. Just as destructive. Perhaps MORE so. Grabbing meals from grills, laughing and joking, tossing children into the fray, all as they effortless hold conversations of their own.
Like a Dionysian revelry, all madness and joy.
Then they are noticed.
One of them booms. Locking eyes on Clark. He doesn't even have time to move, doesn't realize until too late, in all the chaos, that the man meant HIM. A running start is followed by a brutal, full body, flying tackle. Clark is taken skidding to the ground and into a headlock.
He watches in helpless confusion as, with high-pitched war cries, a pair of twins jump Jon. They are wearing war paint. Krypto already taken out by a glowing green dog, now confused and wrestling off to the side. Lois has whipped out her tazer. Kon between her and who ever comes next.
By the time he wrestle his "cousin" off of him, he's lost sight of them both.
Dives into the fray.
Magic be damned, that's his FAMILY!
It... It's the most fun he's had in years. That any of them have. He finds Lois in a breathless, screaming, debate/fistfight with her new best friend. Samantha "call me Sam Or ELSE" Manson-Fouley-Fenton. Kon is in the mud pit, wrestling other teenagers in some sort of battle Royale. Jon? Has become king of the ferals. The other parents are impressed.
His years of Damian wrangling finally paying dividends, apparently.
By the time Clark FINALLY tracks down Krypto, there is already crowd and it apparently six heel turns deep into the WWE Grand Saga of the Fenton Pet's League. Krypto, what the hell. No. No you may NOT "form one last alliance against my sworn wrestling enemy, to prove the true meaning of Christmas!" It's the middle of SUMMER!
Clark... Clark is so tired.
He's also a Fenton now. Yes, he KNOWS that's not how anything works. YOU try explaining that! He's on the call list and card list. It's like the Addams family out here! They just... just DECIDED him and his family were related! They've apparently DONE THAT BEFORE!
They leave with directions, fudge, more leftovers then anyone could possibly eat, and a massive new extended family. One that honestly? The Justice League SHOULD have known about. The sheer destructive chaos they get up too? EVERYONE should be aware of them. It seems impossible NOT to be! But? According to THEM, it's a "family thing". Reality tries to ignore them for "it's own sanity"? What???
So yeah.... no more road trips.
How was YOUR weekend?
@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @lolottes @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation
f̣̩̟̣̬ͪ̕ụ͕̖̺ͦ̈̽͢ṅ̘̙̫̯̣͚̰̥͗̍̐́ ͕̝̳̮̳͌̀á͔͙̈̐̚̕n͙̰̫͋̎͋͟d̸̫̝̲͈̂̿ ̾̌̃҉̬̫̲s͆̀͏͍͖m̥̟̞̳̏͠i̗̟̩̪͎̲ͦ͐ͬ͝l͖̞͎̙̇̔͟ë͔ͥ̈́ͮ͢ͅš̰̲̯͖̼̘̲̎͞ .
FACTS. Good to know.
i think the reason cmblr is so active despite the show being being 20 years old is because it appeals to obsessive neurodivergent people who cannot be normal about the things that they like
i've said before that i love the english teacher jason todd headcanon but a similar one i think is very much overlooked is art teacher damian. in fact, i don't think i've ever seen it before. but i think it would be AWESOME hahaha
Damian: *carrying a large box* occasionally, my own sophisticated vernacular does not do justice to a situation . . . so to paraphrase one of my students . . . this sucks ass Jon: *grabs box, then raises brows* i was going to tease you for that . . . but yeah. this thing is freakin' heavy. what is this??? damian: *looking EXTREMELY tired* clay. for my students to make . . . sculputes out of. jon: *weary* why the hesitation? damian: more often than not their sculptures are more bomb than sculpture. jon: . . . ah. how does that work exactly? damian: *staring into the distance* now why would i trust you with the knowledge of how to make a bomb, jonathan.
Damian: welcome to class, students. today we will be participating in one of my personal favorite mediums, painting student: what do we paint? damian: anything but batman. i know you enjoy memorializing vigilantes in your art, but he angered me last night and as such the sight of him would sicken me students: one brave soul: what did he do? daminan: *straight-faced* he ate the last of the peanut butter in the pantry and failed to buy a new jar. now, for the paintings--
jason: *groaning, head resting on the papers strewn over his table* god, my students are so dumb damian: *framing and hanging up art pieces gifted to him by his students* i cannot say i relate, todd jason: *under his breath* fuck you too
damian: *peering over jason's shoudler at grading jason is doing* what is all this? the red marker? jason: *chugging coffee like its a shot* mistakes i have to correct for them damian: *frowns* that is a lot of mistakes. jason: how 'bout you? how'd your students do on their assignment? damian: well, jenn forgot that we'd moved on from abstracts, so her landscape appears as if it has stepped foot out of a picasso rather than the monet it should have been, but i have graded her with the abstract scale rather than the realism given that it was a simple mistake. her usage of tones and textures impressed me, and while the expressionism and irrealism is slightly off-putting in a landscape, i have found it quite pleasing to the eye. jason: i have no fucking clue what you just said but okay
hobie brown studies :)
So how do you tell which parts of your routine are load-bearing? I wish I knew, but some heuristics:
Things that are part of your access to food which you’ll reliably eat are often load-bearing. If you get a lot of your calories from the free food at work, you should expect changing jobs to one without free food will throw you off your game. If you rely on the corner store then you should expect that moving to a new place where you have to get in the car to get groceries will be a problem. Going vegetarian can screw up something load-bearing for a lot of people (and I say that as someone who believes that factory farming is morally horrible). Going on a diet is reasonably likely to fuck up something load bearing, and I suspect this is part of why statistically dieting doesn’t work at improving peoples’ lives or health.
Things that are part of the environments you spend the most time in are reasonably likely to be load-bearing.The length of your commute, the environment you work in, whether your bedroom is clean, well-ventilated, high-ceilinged, has natural light, whether you have any space that you don’t share with another person…. for some people ‘having a car’ is loadbearing because it’s a space that is theirs and will reliably have their stuff and get them places. For other people, living somewhere where they can get places without a car is load bearing.
Cleanliness needs are often load-bearing. This one especially sucks because you can get into a trap where your space gets chaotic/cluttered/awful and this breaks your brain and makes it harder to keep your space clean.
Pets are often load-bearing.
This might be influenced by who I hang out with, but I think personal time when you’re alone and no one has any claims on you is load bearing for a lot of people. Some people have their own room and know they need their own room, but lots of other people make do with a long commute where they can quietly listen to the radio, and don’t even realize that this is filling their need for introvert time until it changes.
I think people often have a particularly bad time if they have something load-bearing that’s considered ‘indulgent’ or a ‘luxury’, like ‘living in an apartment building with a pool’ or ‘having a big yard I can garden in’ or ‘having an ensuite bathroom with a tub’ or ‘having a soundproofed practice room’ or ‘having a grand piano’. But, like, having expensive load-bearing bits of your life does not say anything about you morally; it may mean that it’s harder for you to get your needs met, and it may not be a preferable situation, but it doesn’t make you selfish or greedy or bad. And, you know, trying to just not have things you need because you believe you’re bad for wanting them doesn’t often work out great.
I miss the days when, no matter how slow your internet was, if you paused any video and let it buffer long enough, you could watch it uninterrupted
i love those blinking red lights they put on top of radio towers and windmills and skyscrapers etc, theyre like electronic flowers or something to me
jason making breakfast
(EDIT I FORGOT HIS AUTOPSY SCAR very important)