#which is probably part of why I go so hard for them

[livingund3ad]

my strange addiction [ ONE. ]

chapter warnings: toxic academic rivalry dynamics(?), drug addiction, drug use, child/institutional neglect, emotional trauma, bullying, criminal/illegal activities

YOU have an addiction. And it comes in the form of academic validation. Now you wonder, how have you arrived at this point? Let’s go back to the time where you were still nothing but an innocent child.

You were a kid with practically zero, none-existent presence. You’ve known that ever since at the universal consciousness gaining phenomena at the age of four. Or were you five then?

Regardless, you were in kindergarten at the time. Your school went on some countryside beach trip, and as a child—you were a bit of an attention seeking brat. Hence why you insisted on being dressed in a pirate costume that your mother got for you for halloween a few months back. A better choice against that mandated obnoxiously bright yellow school uniform.

As for which beach, you couldn’t really remember where you all went. Was it by the East sea? The West? Or maybe it was in the South?

Well, it didn’t really matter now. All you do remember is that, at one moment, you were left alone with everyone else gone. Like a lone pirate stranded on some island.

You wonder sometimes, even now—that if you’d listened to your mother and worn that stupid uniform, would you have not gone missing?

Months passed by after, and you found yourself clumped together in a room full of other parentless kids. Even then, during your time at the orphanage, your lack of presence was pretty much the same. No one really looked out for you, as you’re well aware that your supposed caretakers already have so many kids that they have to look after. Most of which were likely just babies and much younger than you. So you often miss meals. You couldn’t really blame them. You had to learn to understand.

So on the days you went hungry, you’d go outside at night to drink tap water. What you found odd, was that however much you drank, you never felt full. It felt like the water you drank was leaking. It was always like that for years.

Then, during your years in highschool, the school you attended had an unusual commute system. Everyone shared a van and got dropped off one by one. If the van didn’t have the orphanage logo, you’d probably lied and said I was coming from a dorm where you were training to be some kind of pop star. You definitely had the looks

It wouldn’t really matter anyways, people in this shitty school in this small shitty countryside town knew each other and everyone. The rumours to which person, the people involved in some scandal like it was recorded in some chart. The good thing is that you’ve got neither, and the worst thing being rumoured about you, which was rather unfortunately true, was that they called you ‘the orphan boy’.

Just kidding. You experienced much, much worse. With saliva coated bubblegum being slapped on the back of your head, forcing you to shave your fucking hair bald in a buzzcut for months. Before being slapped on the back of the head with the same bubblegum and bullies, again. The cycle never stopped.

You’d been invisible all your life, and then, suddenly, you were reduced to those three words. It was the worst.

There were others who had done you worse, but that’s a story to tell for another day.

People like you can’t get referrals, so it’s hard to get even ordinary part time jobs. It all started almost two years ago. This so-called adult that came from the same orphanage got you and the others a job like he was doing kids like you a favor. But in reality, it was just buying medications. Illegally. With the use of fake ID’s of all things. Distributing everyone copies of falsified IDs with fake names and your faces plastered in the cards like it was food stamps. Maybe in a way, it was. Because if the orphanage ran out of food before you got back from school or this part time, you could buy your own with the cash. It kept you fed.

This went for months, and all you had to do was get a prescription. Not just from one hospital but from multiple different institutions. Use said prescription to buy said prescribed drugs from different pharmacies. Then meet up again in some nondescript location, return the ID and give the drugs to be paid and be driven back to the orphanage. A simple process, yet tiring with all the running you have to do all day.

One night was enough to change the entire course of your life. Shortly after a day of work, on the way home, that ringleader of these operations from earlier asked you a question–one that you found rather absurd at that time.

“What’re your dreams?” He asked. You were the one only awake during that time, with everyone else either snoring and having their eyes closed, so you answered, knowing that he was referring to you and not someone else.

“I don’t know. Never really thought about it.”

It was true. You really didn’t have dreams. No ambition. You lived moment to moment. You didn’t have the luxury to imagine anything else.

“People should have dreams.” He replied. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at that.

“Was your dream to exploit poor orphan kids for drug trafficking?”

The old man scoffed, before he dug through the bag of medications. He didn't seem offended by your words. More like amusement. He then offered you a small bag of the said drugs, and you can only assume it was a dose for one person.

“City kids would do anythin’ to get them, y’know. I like you kiddo, you have some.”

So you did. Not because you needed it. It didn’t change your pay. It felt like a useless gesture. But you took it anyway.

“Study hard, if ‘ya don’t want to end up like me.”

If those words had come from a decent adult who studied hard and had an actual job, you probably wouldn’t have listened. Was it because it came from a good-for-nothing middle aged man? You don't know why, but you found it strangely persuasive. Maybe because he was a failure, you figured what not to become.

That same night, you found yourself digging through the garbage bin of some publishing factory that is a walking distance from the orphanage. And wouldn't you know it. You found a stash of misprinted, but still readable books about biology and one about statistics. You can read the text just fine.

Then by the time the sunrise hit, you were able to understand a quarter of the material you have read in that misprinted biology book.

And just like that, you actually started doing this thing called studying. You used to be 15th in your class out of 30. In the middle. Just average. Ordinary. And in the matter of months after devouring every book you can get your hands on, actually putting an effort to understand—you went into being the 15nth in your year.

15th out of 264.

The number in your report card seemed to have great power. Out of nowhere, you didn't miss out on meals anymore. The orphanage staff started saving plates just for you. You got to study in peace, in the admin office with the AC still running and lamplight on. They even let you pull all-nighters without complaint.

People started treating you differently.

It was a change, and you liked that.

And once in your life, you started feeling full even without eating. Whatever that was, it became your sustenance. And that’s when the hunger changed. It wasn’t just for food anymore. It was for something else. You wanted to be first.

You remembered the pills. Methylphenidate, they were called. You think. What’s the harm of taking it, you thought? It’s not like you were actually going to use it. You weren't going to get hooked.

Right?

Curiosity trumped caution. Just once, you told yourself.

Wrong.

For whatever it did, consuming it made you more sharper, more focused at the task at hand. You were able to do even better, solve many equations and understand multiple complex concepts in a matter of hours. It definitely helped.

Your hard work had finally bore fruit.

You ranked first. Easily surpassing the one sitting on the throne before you. Winning the gold in competitions that those same teachers who wouldn’t even bat at your visible bruises a few months prior suggested you join after they realize potential.

Everything changed, not just the adults, but everything around you for the good. Once your grades shot up, the punks who just couldn't stop tormenting you and making your life hell…finally stopped. As if you wore some invisible armor. And you didn't want to lose it. Losing it would mean death. You couldn't have that. Never again.

Whatever happens, you had to go on, and be number one. The thought of going back? You hated that more than death itself.

So you started stealing pills. Quietly. Regularly. As quickly as you got obsessed with learning, so did your dependence on the drug.

You took them twice everyday, like it was life support. Once before the first class period. Once before your nightly study sessions. Washed down with a drink.

You worked hard and studied harder, regardless if it was night or day, anywhere, every time you saw an opportunity to study, you seized every chance like it was your last.

Then opportunity knocked again.

The orphanage found your father.

They contacted him. Confirmed your identity. And just like that, after all those years, someone saw you again. Really saw you.

In four months, you’d be leaving for Gotham City. To meet him. To finally return to the place you were born. The life you could've lived, if you wore that yellow uniform. Life, at last, was looking up.

TIMOTHY DRAKE has an addiction, and it came at the form of a person. YOU. At the very least, not yet that you knew of.

Timothy was an algorithm in human skin.

He knew this about himself. Always had.

The world, to him, made too much noise, but not in the way people thought. Not loud, exactly, just cluttered. Inefficient. Unnecessary. He had to arrange it in lines and frameworks—somewhere between the straight edges of compulsion and control. He mapped it all: people’s tells, their stutters, the way they blinked too quickly when they lied or blinked not enough when they were about to cry. Timothy had learned to observe people like experiments.

He knew at age six, he was never like the other children. Too smart. Too fast. He was a genius, they said. He could speak seven languages by the time he was thirteen but still found it exhausting to look someone in the eye and remember to smile with his teeth. Social rules felt like cheat codes someone forgot to give him. So he compensated in other ways—by being perfect. Polished. Efficient. Academic excellence, extracurricular consistency, public charm, private distance. His image was so pristine it felt bulletproof.

But then… you happened.

It started in the middle of October. Cold enough for scarves, warm enough for competition. He still remembers the first time you walked past him in the hallway without looking in that plain uniform that’s not even the part of the dress code. On your first day. You stuck out like a sore thumb—plain on purpose, like you were begging for attention.

That week’s Calculus mock quiz had been brutal. People had groaned, cried, even appealed to the teacher. But not him. He had scored a perfect 10. He should have been the talk of the class.

Instead, it was you. But not because they were impressed, no.

You, with your scuffed shoes and that unplaceable accent like you were trying not to exist too loudly. You, the supposed genius transferee who got a score of four.

Some laughed at you. But you didn't care.

He remembered the moment he overheard your name in the hallway, half-whispered by students. It was all baseless rumours, about you being an orphan, a fraud that cheated his way into this place.

And just like that—Timothy Drake, golden boy, heir of Gotham’s most elite academies—was no longer the only talk of the town.

He wasn’t threatened. Not really. Not at first. Competition was natural. Expected in this environment. Even welcome. But what he didn’t expect was how you seemed to slip through the usual systems of interest. You didn’t care about their words. You walked through the halls like someone who had already died once and come back immune to criticism.

That is where he began… noticing.

How you never raised your hand in class, but always had an answer. How you studied alone. Always alone. In the library, under that buzzing light you never bothered to report as broken. The way your hands trembled—not with fear, but with strain. Like you were constantly wound too tight, buzzing on something invisible. Like your mind was racing five laps ahead of your body and your body was struggling to keep up. Like you wanted to prove the world something.

You didn’t just want to win.

You needed to.

And that? That was something Timothy understood, in all these years of watching people.

Yet still—he couldn’t understand you. That was the part that disturbed him. Every time he tried to predict your behavior—when you'd turn the page, when you’d pack up your books, whether you’d look at him after class—he got it wrong.

He didn’t like getting things wrong.

So he observed. Watched. Stalked.

Not in a way that would draw attention. Not overtly. Just enough. Just close enough to start cataloguing you. You drank two cans of cheap black coffee a day. Always by the rundown convenience store just a few blocks away from the campus. Always carried mints, but never chewed gum. Never ate, not even once—during your first week in the cafeteria. During class, you’d leave your textbook open to the same chapter but read from different margins. Like you were trying to create new meaning from something already finished.

He noticed something else too. The way you always checked your wrist—not for a watch, but as if you were timing something that only you knew about. Like you had a schedule in your head that the rest of the world didn’t operate on.

A few days later, one rainy morning before class, he finally decided to approach you. Not closely. Just enough to test a theory.

“Hi. I’m Tim—Timothy Drake. We haven’t spoken before, but… mind if I sit here?"

Silence.

Your silence answered him. People don’t usually do that—at least not to him. At the minimum, he expected a greeting.

It wasn’t just that day. It was every day after. Still—no glance. No acknowledgment.

One night, he realized it.

You didn’t see him. And that—no. That wasn’t acceptable.

He wasn’t used to being invisible. People noticed Timothy Drake. Teachers paused when he entered the room. Adults leaned in when he spoke. Girls and boys both lingered too long when he brushed past them. Even introverts stutter when they’re acknowledged by him. The world saw him. It bent around him. Always had.

But you?

You looked through him like he was part of the furniture. Like he wasn’t real.

He thought maybe it was an act. Some strange tactic. A defense. A performance. But the more he watched, the more he realized—

You genuinely did not care.

You had no time for people. You were addicted to something else. Maybe knowledge. Maybe success. Obsession dressed as ambition. Your hunger mirrored his own, but where his was calculated, yours was raw. Desperate. Messy.

It should have repulsed him. Instead, it enthralled him.

Because there was no one else like YOU.

He knew more than half of the people in this classroom, their scores are paid by daddy’s money. Yours wasn’t, and neither were his.

He saw you in the library one late afternoon when everyone was leaving. You were muttering to yourself in a language he couldn’t quite place, scribbling so fast your pen nearly broke. Your eyes were bloodshot. Your hands were shaking. Your lips were blue from cold or caffeine or something else—he couldn’t tell.

And still—you didn’t stop.

Timothy, watching from behind the bookshelf, felt something like vertigo.

Because you weren’t just trying to be the best.

You were trying not to disappear.

He recognized it. The manic precision. The way your body was breaking down but your mind kept clawing forward. It wasn’t survival, not anymore. It was compulsion.

He found himself thinking about you on the drive home. In the shower. When he read. In the space between REM cycles. He started mapping out your patterns. Estimating your caffeine intake.

And still—you wouldn’t look at him.

Not once.

You made him feel like he didn’t exist.

That was the moment it began to curdle.

His obsession wasn’t born from attraction. Not initially. It was disruption. You were a crack in this predictable system. A riddle he couldn’t solve. A human variable that resisted logic.

You were an unpredictable variable inside a vessel of order.

And Timothy Drake had to know everything.

Why you acted the way you did. Why you pushed yourself so far past breaking. What made you tick. What made you tremble. What made you stop– He had to know everything about you.

He couldn’t rest until he did.

Because maybe this wasn’t just about competition anymore. He didn’t even care if you managed to surpass him somehow. He needed to see if you could.

This was curiosity rotting into something unnameable.

Timothy Drake's mind was a machine built from and for control.

But you—you made him want to lose it.

You made him want to peel back every layer, pick at every scab, test every reaction.

He didn’t just want to study you.

He wanted to unravel YOU.

| … | Next |

A/N:

YOU: Internally crashing out after seeing that hideous 4/10*

TIM: Internally crashing out every time you don’t acknowledge him*

Priorities. lmfao.

[storytimewithtibby]

warnings: gore, mild violence, implied murder *cough cough*, mentally ill!reader, eddie gluskin x fem!reader word count: 1,604 work - Here Comes the Bride side quest

a/n: so i have an ask for more eddie x bride thing and I was like wouldn't it be cute if she made him a shirt. but there's not a lot of eddie x bride going on so I'll be doing a 2nd part to this side quest in the morning.

     You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been married, time had been a difficult concept even before you’d lost the ability to see the sun rise and set. But you were happy, and Eddie was happy. What more could you ask for? Humming as you spun around in the room he’d tucked you away in, to keep you safe, to make sure nothing bad happened to you, an idea began to percolate. 

     He always made you the prettiest dresses, fingers smoothing over the fabric, the little sash he’d made to lay around your waist. It was for him, you’d figured that out relatively quickly, he liked to smooth his hands along it when he pulled you in close. Which meant you liked it too, feeling a smile curl your lips as you toyed with the fabric. 

     You could do that. Well not a sash, men didn’t wear sashes, but they did sometimes grow very charming moustaches. A brief chuckle escaped you as you darted to the corner of the room where he put your clothes. He sometimes left swatches of fabric there as well in case your clothing got torn. Not that you weren’t careful, you made every effort to keep yourself presentable for him. But sometimes he was very… eager to see you, and the cloth tore, or soaked up the less than dried blood on his hands. 

     Shaking your head to clear it, an etch a sketch quick clear that left you a little dizzy. Focus. A gift for Eddie, your perfectly charming husband. Or was he charmingly perfect? Mulling over that you gathered the material left and frowned. It wasn’t enough. Glancing at the door you weighed your options. 

     Breaking rule one would not go well, unless he had a very good day today. Then he might not be as angry as could be, but still upset enough to discipline you. But if you had a gift for him, and could get him to see it before he riled himself up with terrible thoughts, you might get away with a lecture. Another spin, listening to the hushed sound of fabric sliding across fabric. 

     Your dress was right, you should absolutely go find more material to make him a present. A new vest would make a lovely gift, practically dancing in place with the mental image of his smile. You knew where there were spare clothes, though some of them were going to be hard to clean. It would be worth it when he saw his present.

     After an hour of wandering through the only semi familiar hallways, you were beginning to deeply regret your decision. Maybe it would have been better to ask Eddie for some fabric and try to avoid telling him why. No, it was against your vows. … Probably. It was hard to remember what they were exactly, but surely being honest to your loving husband had been amongst the other things he’d asked of you. 

     Still trying to sort through how deeply you’d dug your grave, you didn’t notice that the shadows had done something odd. They’d moved. When you did notice you stopped completely, feeling your breath catch, the stumble of your heart, a soft hiccup of sound escaping you as you forced yourself to take a breath. 

“Who’s there?’ 

     Deep breath in, deep breath out, taking a step back as the figure moved closer.  And then another, Eddie’s name caught in your throat as you didn’t want to let the thing lurching towards you know exactly where you were. Fingers tightening into fists, you felt a flicker of confusion that glowed into understanding. The cloth scissors you’d grabbed from the room were tightly clenched in your fist. You weren’t supposed to be out of the room. 

     Rule one.

     But if you made the shirt he wouldn’t be too angry at you. Who didn’t like getting a present, a surprise, and a useful one at that. He could wear it everyday if he wanted to! You’d seen enough movies to know that stabbing the scissors into his chest would be a terrible idea, you might hit the ribs or the center part that you could never remember. And was it just knives you were supposed to twist before you pulled out or any sharp object.

“I can hear you…’ The voice interrupted your thoughts, closer than it had been. “We can hide from the Groom together. I bet he has a stash around here, the good medicine.’

     Why would you hide from Eddie? That was silly, he adored you to bits, told you so every single day. If there had been that many. How long had you been down here… 

“With two of us we could even kill him and then we can have this whole place to ourselves!’

     The whispered voice was getting louder in its excitement, but that wasn’t what made your blood run cold. Hurt Eddie? Your Eddie? No. No that couldn’t happen. That wouldn’t happen. You couldn’t let that happen. The thing in the dark seemed to confuse the hitch in your breathing as excitement, that it had managed to convince you to take its side against Eddie. 

     Rage coiled through you like a snake, heavy, cold, constricting. You could not let this thing try to hurt Eddie. Unacceptable. Something warm hit your face, and for a moment you didn’t understand what happened. Your left side hurt, and your shoulder ached. You also didn’t remember sitting down, slowly pushing yourself to your feet. Stumbling over something on the floor, you paused feeling your toes catch on something. 

     Oh! The fabric. Of course, that’s what you’d been doing. Pulling at the fabric, you scowled when you realized that it was caught on something. Using the scissors to cut along the seams, you finally managed to pull it loose and headed in the direction of the kitchen. Wash the fabric, maybe throw in some of the charcoal you’d found to darken it if the stains were too stubborn. 

     Time slipped like gossamer between your mind’s fingers as you worked. The fabric came out cleaner than expected, but there were some stains that stubbornly refused to be cleaned. And crushing up the charcoal had been a nightmare in itself. Even the dyeing process had been ludicrous, you’d boiled the fabric in the water and charcoal and it had only darkened it a little bit. 

     All in all though, you didn’t think you’d done a terrible job. Sewing was a lot harder than Eddie made it seem, the needle just seemed to fly through the fabric when Eddie did it. But you’d managed, and it didn’t look that bad. Your head lifted immediately when you heard his footsteps, hurrying the last few finishing touches just as he stormed in. 

“Where were y-’

     You watched the rage melt away, as you’d known it would. A present could fix anything, though he didn’t seem quite as happy as you’d been hoping. Maybe because you were still clutching the fabric to your chest, worried that you hadn’t done nearly as good as you’d hoped. What if it didn’t fit? You’d die, you’d simply die if it didn’t fit.

“You left the room.’ The words were said slowly, as though he were chasing a thought and it kept evading him. “And your dress is dirty.’

     Tears welled up in your eyes, hands falling though your fingers still clutched the vest you’d worked so hard on. He didn’t want the present, because you’d broken the rules. And worst of all, you’d gotten your dress dirty that he’d worked so hard on. What kind of appreciation was that for his hard work? Sniffling, you swallowed back the sounds that tried to crawl out of your throat, broken, piteous things.

     Your head slowly fell as he reached out for you, steeling yourself for the punishment you knew was coming only to feel your hands move. He was tugging at the vest in your hands, a small spark of hope in your chest as you let go. Was he going to like it? You really hoped that he liked it. After a long silence you stepped closer, practically pressing against him as you eagerly waited for his verdict. 

“Do you like it? All of your vests are blue, I thought you’d like a darker one. I couldn’t quite make it black, but I tried.’ 

     The words spilled out of you in a rush, his attention slowly shifting between the vest caught between your chests, your face, then back again. 

“Ah, a vest. How very clever of you, darling girl.’ 

     He liked it! You didn’t bother hiding your delight, arms thrown over his shoulders as you kissed the corner of his mouth, nosing at his cheek as your feet kicked one two. When you landed on your feet again, your fingers eagerly undid the buttons of his vest and tugged it off. Now he could try on yours, and if it needed adjustments he’d be able to do them. Or even better he could teach you. All worries faded away, guiding his arms in through the holes and sliding it up his arms. It even buttoned up the front, though they strained in their loopholes.

“I’m sorry I got my dress dirty, I’ll clean it right away.’ When he didn’t respond right away, you smoothed your hands over the fabric on his chest. “You didn’t say if you liked it or not.’

“I adore it, I can tell you spent a lot of time on it.’ One of the buttons snapped loose. “But perhaps next time you should add a little something special to dinner instead.’

[thecaffeinatedlich]

I do think the writers were probably aware of the Implications.

I need to do a rewatch of s2 the way I did for S1, but I think having a character who is struggling with a lot of complex emotions and political machinations, and the power her positions (wealth + cop + de facto leader) give her when she turns and lashes out at her sometimes-girlfriend (a lower class citizen, ex-con, and subordinate) using a weapon and motion that would be instinctual from the time she's spent as an enforcer, is, like, a meaningful choice on the part of the writers.

It is supposed to feel bad and icky.

You are supposed to think about the dynamics between them and recognize that Caitlyn is fucking up big time if she wants to be a good person.

I also think having our protagonist cop character lash out at her ex-con friend with a police brutality move is a much more impactful way of saying "the system is corrupt and it corrupts everyone and there are no Good Cops" far clearer than having a side character lash out at someone like that.

Which, yeah, makes shipping them complicated! And I get why some people don't want to ship them at all because of stuff like this.

I feel like the thing that makes this so hard to be okay with for a lot of folks is that the story never really has time to resolve this. (I have thoughts about pacing, but I need to do that s2 rewatch, lmao.....)

But I can accept Cait and Vi getting together without them having had a big talk about this and working it out because they aren't the sort of well-adjusted people who are good about talking about their feelings or working out their power dynamics issues. They both suck at that so much! So it feels in character for them to be in a relationship at the end of the show without having had that discussion or worked out their problems in any way. They might never do that. They may just go on arguing and getting back together for years.

So, that's upsetting if you like them and want the best for them and want them to be happy! It would feel a lot better if we could see some stronger indications that they were working this stuff out and trying to Fix The System. Especially if you want stories where your lesbian protagonists are clearly-coded as good guys with healthy relationship dynamics. But I don't think that was ever the story Arcane meant to tell.

It is however a story other people can tell.

Fix-it Fic is made for this sort of stuff. Write that post-show long fic about them breaking up and getting back together and finally hashing this stuff out for real and falling in love again, but better this time! If you don't like the way something went, write it better! Or at least different!

you know, something that bothers me supremely about the scene where caitlyn hits vi and leaves is the imagery, and (i personally) haven't seen it discussed yet

so i'd just like to point out that caitlyn hits her with the butt of her rifle that she uses for police work (and has a similar design to what other enforcers have been seen carrying) while in uniform: the way this scene was written is bound to evoke associations of police brutality and the systemic oppression that has already been shown in arcane.

imo that just makes the whole scene worse by highlighting the power imbalance between vi and caitlyn. it's a big reminder to the viewer that we're seeing a cop that operates within a body that specifically and intentionally oppresses the lower class hitting a lower-class woman with the weapon (not tool, weapon) that we know they used to intimidate and keep them "in line" in the past

i'm not going anywhere specific with this, just wanted to know what other people thought !!

(and yes, i know vi was also in uniform, but that just points out the working imbalance of cait being her commanding officer, aka her boss; similarly i used "that woman" instead of girlfriend as to not bring in the dv undertone— and neither of these erase the socioeconomic divide between them, arguably it just makes it worse)

[miscreantahead]

mad bc I dont care about stuff i know I can get lots of content of and only care about stuff i cant

[galactic-rhea]

Thoughts on Padmé x Anakin x Rex?

Padmé and Anakin are so mutually obssesed they would first have to check into that before trying to bring another person to their carefully-balanced-kind-of-damage or something it's going to explode.

Honestly it's a fun ship! But I don't have too many thoughts about them because when I consider them is usually in very low-stakes-fun-AU-scenarios.

And I'm actually a bit of a fan of Rexwalker myself! Athough I tend to like them more as very good buddies, the covering-for-you-dynamic it's so funny for them, lol It's also angsty and complicated because, y'know, the power-imbalance and unchecked trauma? Is funny that the clone that's actually a slave for the republic is the most normal if you bring him into the anidala romance circus.

Also shout out to @phoenixyfriend , she has a lot of rexanidala fics and recs for anyone interested reading this!

[mosspodge]

HEY MOSSY WHATS UR FAVORITE SONG im looking for new music :]

first of all, thank you for the huge compliment!!! you should also know you are saying this to someone who spent 15 minutes listening to the spider man game pizza theme in the car yesterday so. Yeah!!!

All that sillyness aside, I listen to way too much music (my usual playlist is +1,300 songs) of way too many different genres and i am happy to share them with anyone and everyone!! Gonna try and limit this to 10~ish songs for now, since otherwise I will end up with a list 100 songs long lol. Also I am a rare Apple Music user so I'll try and link all the songs to youtube so that they're easier to listen to!!! also bc Spotify confounds me lol OK there was WAY more text than i thought so MUSIC RECS UNDER THA CUT

MOSSY'S COOL MUSIC RECS

DRIVING MY LOVE - Anri GOSH her entire TIMELY!! album is amazing, but this is the song that's been sticking in my mind the most lately. Citypop is a very fun genre of music that came about in Japan in the 70's, and Anri had (to me) some of the most fun songs in the genre :>

New River and Soap - The Oh Hellos OH BOY OH BOY THE OH HELLOS!!! I LOVE this band!!!!! If you were on art social media a couple years ago you probably have heard Soldier, Poet, King, which is by and large their most popular song. New River is one of my go-to songs when I am going through it. Absolutely love the imagery of the song, allowing new and difficult experiences carve new landscape through yourself. Soap, it is important to note, is the culmination of their four-part EP series Four Winds, and is kind of the resolution to that whole series of songs. It's really interesting and worth looking into! I must note that this is a Christian band in case you find that uncomfortable, but I would still recommend checking them out even if you do- the Four Winds EPS focus specifically on their struggles with God amidst the uh. Bad US Political Climate and all that. Most of their music on the topic is pointed and metaphorical (see: Passerine) and so that knowledge isn't super necessary to enjoy the music, I just think it's neat :] And not every song necessarily touches on the subject- these two specifically don't! Also I GOT TICKETS TO SEE THEM THIS YEAR LETS GOOOOO sorry this section is so long i just really like this band

No More What Ifs - Persona 5 Royal, covered by the 8 Bit Big Band Ok back on track lol. This song is absolutely my favorite from the game, but MAN THIS COVER. The 8BBB is one of the best video game cover bands out there imo, and they COMPLETELY outdid themselves with this one. They actually added a few extra lyrics to the song to better round out the overarching theme of both it and the game and MAN. i will never listen to another version again. The album this will be a part of isn't out yet sadly, but I would 100% recommend checking out their other stuff!

Bones in the Ocean (2023 vers.) - Longest Johns There's a lot to be said about this one but it's best if you just listen to it tbh. I will say that this is a new recording of one of the band's first original shanties, and that it includes all former and current members. Would highly recommend all the other songs on this album too, aside from this song it's a very fun listen! But ourgh this song,,,, if i had time I'd make a dozen animatics for it

エビチャーハン! (You’re Telling Me A SHRIMP Fried This Rice?!) - JamieP best miku song no quastion

'Tis Autumn - Nat "King" Cole Trio There's only one song to kick off the fall season and it's absolutely this one! Also The Autumn Leaves, which Nat King actually sung in Japanese once which is cool. He was an incredible musician and all of his songs are great, but Tis Autumn is probably my favorite :>

Catch You Catch Me (Card Captor Sakura OP) - Gumi Do you want to get ready in the morning feeling like a magical girl? Boy howdy do I have a song for YOU! Seriously the amount of people I've shown this song to under that premise who have come to me the next day saying that it worked is a lot lol. Card Captor Sakura has been a big comfort show for me and MAN the music is *chefs kiss*, especially the OPs!!! Linked the full song, but I would also recommend watching the opening itself :D

#41 - Dave Matthews Band "wow you like dave matthews lol thats such dad music" ok listen. I have been listening to DMB since before I was born. Saying I'm biased is probably an understatement here. But his songs are very good and I like them ok. Anyways #41 is a really stupid name for a song but I love the band in it, the weird lyrics, just the overall jazziness of it. If you wanna listen to more Dave stuff I would highly recommend the stuff from his solo concerts with Tim Reynolds- its just 2 guys jamming out on guitars, it's great. Stuff like One Sweet World, Still Water, Grey Street (This one's a tough listen for me but I love it). For the fun full band stuff I love So Much to Say, Ants Marching, just the older albums in general

Stay I Pray You - Anastasia (The Musical) I am allowing myself ONE (1) musical song. My sister is a huge musical fan and an even bigger Russian History nerd and an even BIGGER Bolshevik Revolution nerd so I watched Anastasia with her a lot growing up. Eventually they made the musical and it's actually tied for my favorite (Phantom is pretty hard to beat)! I got to see it tour and MAN. all the music is amazing, but this to me is the standout song- largely because this song, despite not being in the movie, actually was kinda in the movie- there's this bit in In the Dark of the Night that they took and made into a completely different song which is a fun nod to the movie!!

Music to Soothe The Savage Snake Plant - Mort Garson Got overwhelmed by my options at this point so I'm defaulting to one of my favorites! I believe another song off this album got popular recently, but I will forever know this one from it being used in the final scene in The Adventure Zone, my first and favorite DnD podcast! Honestly I could recommend a dozen songs from the podcast, but this one in particular always sticks out to me. While I'm here you should also go listen to The Adventure Zone, it's a great podcast, especially their first story (Balance, just start at the bottom lol).

wow that. was a lot more than I meant to write lol. Special shoutout to Virtual Insanity, the bane of my existence and my personal hell. It was my #1 most listened to song last year coming to a total of *checks replay* 239 plays, over 50% of which occurred within the span of a week. another shoutout to The Housebuilding Song. i swear i listen to you once a year how are you always in my top 25

[rowenabean]

.

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Junicrane/Starstruck Ramble

I will not be brief, all under the cut

To clear some things right off the bat:

No corpse, no proof with Juniper. Obligatory this is set in a canon where he's alive and adjacent to the agency in some way.

Reggie & Juniper are just gay to me, but I don't mind any interpretation of their sexuality

The games are set in 1967/68 to me (based on a couple bits in game) which is before it was legal to be gay in America at least (1971), which is relevant to how I interpret canon as being somewhat grounded in reality, despite unrealistic elements.

This is just an insane amount of headcanons/elements of and AU all culminated into one post. I will talk about some headcanons like they're just facts because they are established in my head, and it saves me over explaining literally everything, however I will explain some parts a little bit for clarity.

Alright. Actual beginning of the ramble:

Juniper is a character to me who had gotten so lost in his job as an actor and a social presence that in the end his whole life revolved around that 'role'. Because of this, by the time he's put into the situation where he's around the Agency, he basically knows nothing about himself, though he doesn't realise at first. Furthermore, what little identity he had has changed in so many ways. He's no longer a beloved famous actor in the prominence of public light, he's legally dead and he tarnished his career just before he was supposed to die, with the bonus of that making him lose the majority of his estate. From that, he also has horrific facial scarring from the electrical burns from literally having his face fried. I believe a friend of mine made a post about this a while ago (I also think they were the first to think it up also), but, to me, Juniper has a permanent trimmer in his right arm (aka his dominant hand) from the electrical current and it is messing with his nervous system.

All in all, he's not doing great, but he's too proud to admit that he's not doing great, because if anything, what's left of his ego is all he has as a defense since he's deep in unfamiliar water.

Before ending up around the agency (I have multiple interpretations of this, so I'm just going to bring it up generally), he'd never actually seen Reggie, and his only impression of him is a single voicemail, which was his only reference he had to later impersonate him. Juniper probably has very little feelings other than the ones he projects onto him because of Phoenix and that, at the very least, he's physically attracted to Reggie to some degree (that's like the beginning of how everything else would tumble into place in this sort of interpretation at least).

And on Crane's side? His feelings towards Juniper are probably very intense and muddled. On the one hand, he adores musical theatre, and that's his now ex-favourite actor. The thought of just casually being around him blows the bit of fanboy in him away at first because THAT'S the GUY, plus the inklings of a celebrity crush which still poke at him. And then there's the rational side of him, which knows Juniper has committed absolute atrocities on the side of Zoraxis, and hates him for that. Then there's how much Juniper comes off as an asshole at first because he refuses to cooperate with anything the Agency tried to put in place. He finds Juniper endlessly frustrating, and yet he's stuck working with him since, afterall, he's the one who knows the Agency's history with Juniper the best. I imagine him acting a lot like how he does IEYTD 1 around Juniper.

At this point, I'm just describing the pitch for a romcom.

I think the start of their relationship with one another largely started with Juniper trying to wind Crane up. It was a way of getting his attention, and I don't think Juniper knows why he's so dead set on that at first, because I don't think he realises he has a crush on 'this grump' at first. (I think that's actually the fun part about these two, because it's almost like a role reversal of the celebrity crush dynamic. This ex-big name actor has a TERRIBLE crush on an average joe and it is KILLING HIM.) But of course the Agency keeps them together because Juniper is at least conversing with Crane, so it's a start.

Through one way or another, they actually get talking casually, at least mildly at first. It takes Juniper a long time to fully deconstruct the wall he's built, and the thing is, Crane isn't the one trying to deconstruct it, at least at first, because yeah, Juniper realises if he wants Reggie to actually like him in any way, he can't keep winding him up. So they talk. Small talk at first, something rhythmic and almost easy to keep to a script. And over time that turns into actual conversations. Genuine ones in which Reggie rips out the occasional one of his jokes which Juniper is endlessly endeared about. The way he smiles just before he makes them, like he wants to chuckle at what he's about to say before he says it. That's probably when Juniper realised that he does have some vague crush on him, and that it wasn't going away.

This is what kickstarts John I can't-buy-you-things-to-impress-you-so-acts-of-service-it-is Juniper to do little things for him. It mostly starts off as him trying to make Reggie his tea how he likes it. However, the nerve damage in his arm makes that hard, as the weight of the kettle and trying to pour is hard all of a sudden. And he refuses to accept that, so he tries for a very long while. Long enough that Crane would go to investigate what was going on. And when he does see Juniper leaning over a cup with the kettle as he uneasily tries to pour it, and when Crane asks Juniper responds so matter-of-fact that his intention is nothing but genuine. And it catches Reggie off guard because Juniper hadn't done anything like that up to that point, and his very apparent vulnerability is so clearly on show.

It shifts something between them.

From that point on, conversations are longer, more familiar. Both of their attitudes soften, and Reggie makes more jokes. Juniper learns how to better use his left hand while strengthening his right back to a point where it could be used again. Slowly, they're both spending time with one another not because they have to, but just because they can. Little bits at first, not too far outside what they already were doing, but those little bits turned into long bits to a point where the other person's company was genuinely desirable.

As time passes, Juniper probably realises that he doesn't genuinely know much about himself or what hobbies he's into, because he never really had the time when he got big, and his home life in his youth wasn't bad, but it wasn't picturesque. I think Reggie would pick up on it, and absolutely try to introduce him to some things he's into. Some things stick, other things don't (corn husking very much stays Reggie's passion, and John will go with him sometimes because it's him, but it's not something he strongly cares for). Crane introduces him to a lot of music, and it's something that becomes a staple between them, with tracks they listen to more than others (tragically, I know relatively little about 60s music so I couldn't really say what). Occasionally they dance, never anything intense, think slow dancing, but the closeness is nice.

Through all of it, Juniper is battling the worst crush of his life, and he can't stand it, because I think he struggles to read people since he doesn't have anything like a script or a director to refer back to, so he has no idea if Reggie likes him back or if he's just desperate for that to be true. I think because of that any sort of confession between them would be incredibly raw, not only because of the time they live in making it hard for them to be truthful about how they love, but because it's a complete show of Juniper who's worked to be this better person. I don't exactly know how that would go, mainly because I don't have one set version of their dynamic, this post is just a generalisation of main consistent points.

Reggie does like him back, because he's gotten used to Juniper being just this guy, not a figure in the public eye, not a Zoraxis lackey, and not any sort of Agency operative (despite being under their care to some degree). He's someone he genuinely cares for, because they've given one another the time of day to learn one another, and I think because Reggie was a field agent, he was a lot better at reading Juniper than Juniper was at reading him. Eventually Juniper's company becomes something he could see around him for the rest of his life, and I think he accepts that he likes Juniper a lot more gracefully.

I think any affection directed at Juniper would at first be met with him feeling a little muddled. Reggie was a very physically affectionate person when he could be, and sure the initial flirting with one another came with the occasional little touches, but everything now was so deeply intentional. I also don't think Juniper would almost ever get over the novelty of being able to kiss him, or many other gestures, because it made the fact that they were together so very real, and it was great. I do think it comes easier to Reggie, and it's a big way of showing how much he cares, so it's important for Juniper to try and show it back because he knows how much it means to the other.

I like the idea of them eventually living with one another, too. I think Juniper would have always had a quiet little daydream of sorts where he does just live a domestic quiet life, and he can with Reggie (well, as close as they can get between the Agency and Zoraxis always being at odds), and he loves that, and he loves him, and it's immense.

I think they cook for one another a lot, it helps Juniper work on his dexterity in a controlled environment, which means a lot because it's a huge point of insecurity (that and his scars). He does improve, and Crane is proud of that and shows it and it's great. I also think they'd probably cook together too, because they can deal with being in the kitchen together and they work well with one another. It's probably a good way for them to unwind because over time they can do it in relative silence.

As I said before, I also think music is a staple in their household, and that Reggie listens to things on vinyl almost all of the time because he likes the background noise. Sometimes Juniper will catch him chuntering along to the music which he finds endlessly endearing. I wouldn't put it past his dramatic ass to also join in to fluster Reggie, but I also don't think Reggie would mind that terribly because Juniper has listened to the music enough to know the lyrics, and that's huge to him.

I don't think they are without rough patches, no relationship is, but I think the good part about them is that they're willing to talk about it (... eventually). They're used to long conversations, and while they're often less fun conversations, they're needed and they know that, and it works out.

Alright. I think I'm done for now. I haven't mentioned everything, but this definitely got the worst of it out of my system. If you ever want to hear any specific thoughts my ask box is open but other than that, behold my general dynamic for these two which has been festering in my head for years. I think they're great

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[shannonsketches]

lays on the floor do you guys ever think about how in ResF Bulma falls for Vegeta's fake-out with Freeza and both she and Yamcha are worried about Vegeta's villain fake-out strategy in Champa and Beerus' mini tournament and how it's only been a couple of years since the Buu saga and how Vegeta straight up stopped using that strategy after that tournament

[8cfc00]

i love relistening to podcasts to the point where relistening to any episode becomes incredibly boring because i already know what happens

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable asking, Emily," June said gently, as she pushed her dinner around her plate (a part of her could hear her father admonishing her for it, but truthfully, she was much too nervous to think about eating), adding, "I just...well, it's like you said, you don't feel like you're over a hundred years old and, well...you certainly don't come across that way."

That night that she and Wilhelm kicked Emily out of the house (a night she continued to regret), her perception of the young woman had changed, going from a sweet, soft-spoken young lady her son was smitten with, to a manipulative monster looking to sink her teeth into Randall's soft flesh, and that image stayed with her long after that night...

...but now, in the gentle light of the kitchen, looking at her now, that familiar visage of a good-natured, gentle-hearted woman returned, though more tinged with melancholy, for reasons June now understood, and was sympathetic towards. She saw not a monster, but a very lonely soul, in need of love.

"Well, uh," Wilhelm commented, similarly eating little (despite his usually strong appetite, it was, like his wife's, waning this evening) as he took a stab at humor, joking lightly, "You look pretty good for a centenarian, lass!"

[keeps-ache]

ggghhg i hate vehiclessssssss ghghghhghhhhh [dies dies dies forever]

[sorikkung]

people interacting w wgoin in my notes... this would be a rly bad time to say all my writing will probably be on hiatus for the indefinite future huh

[daz4i]

love my social worker he's so sweet and i love my mentor/guide/one day i'll find a fitting english word for what her role is too. last time i met the former he said they talked abt the thing i'm starting this thursday and said "while it feels like these circumstances may be impossible for you, logically speaking you shouldn't succeed there, yet both of us are certain you will" which is very nice but also AAAAAAAAAAAAA

[nunyverse-scribe]

Yk in these last few weeks I’ve come to notice that a lotta people view me as a good listener. Which sounds great until the added context of me being a people pleaser & having a hard time telling people “no” when I don’t have the energy to listen.