#I realized how weird it sounded to them. like. this isn’t the standard. but. what is?

[iolesbookshelf]

To all the people that don’t read books/ obsess over shows and movies / make scenarios of fictional characters in their heads / have maladaptive daydreaming: what exactly goes through that head of yours? Is it, like, empty space? Is it quiet? Is there just more room for anxiety?

[ghost-proofbaby]

kissing lessons

summary: you and robin have already shared several firsts as best friends: your first time holding hands, your first time cuddling someone, your first time flirting. so what's a little platonic kissing?

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: lots of sapphic pining, yearning, etc. assumed unrequited love. hopeless crushing. doing romantic things and claiming they're totally platonic when they very much are not. mentions of reading trying to conform to the 80s standards by dating a boy. reader is explicitly female (which should be given since robin is canonically a lesbian)

wc: 3.4k+

a/n: this one was a long time coming. it's based off of my own first kiss, loosely.

part 2

Being best friends with Robin Buckley has always been about growing – together.

Life has a plethora of lessons for young souls to learn in time, and some of those lessons were simply hard. The first time you picked up a musical instrument and attempted to play your very first note, and it sounded atrocious. Nothing like the movies, more difficult than you could have ever imagined. The first time you walked the halls of your high school, and the terrifying first wave of panic at the realization you’d need to learn the map of the lands in order to navigate that maze for the next four years. The first time you walked into a classroom all of two minutes late, and the first shatter of embarrassment in your chest as every eye in the room turned to you. The first time you trip over your own laces on your way to Chemistry, the first time you impulsively cut your hair with the kitchen scissors, the first time a boy asked you out as a joke, and the first time someone asked you out genuinely only to fumble over every single word. Your first school dance, your first time cooking pasta from scratch, your first time attending a concert without a chaperone. 

Firsts, firsts, firsts. Life is simply full of them, and they never get any easier or kinder, but having a best friend at your side certainly makes it all bearable. 

Robin Buckley was that rock for you. And you, for her. 

It’s sort of how you got into this mess to begin with. 

“It’s going to be weird, isn’t it?” 

“It’s not going to be weird unless we make it weird, Robin.”

“How can I not make it weird? Where would my lips even go?”

You’re both lucky that no one is home to hear all the shrieking currently occurring in your small bedroom. Only the posters on your wall and your teddy bear you’ve had since you were five are witnesses to the current predicament occuring. 

Robin had been the one to suggest it, in all fairness. Graduation was next week, and there had been a lot of reminiscing flying about. All the firsts, all the hopeful lasts, and all the fatal moments you needed to drag by the hair to the backyard and bury six feet under. 

The topic of conversation had veered pretty erratically, turning left towards that one stubborn B left on Robin’s postcard as a result of her refusing to attend her assigned tutoring for Geometry last year, and then sliding right as you’d huffed about that one girl who had been an absolute menace towards you sophomore year when you’d botched your improv solo at a band concert. But in the last five minutes, it had finally straightened out – it had finally begun to follow the trail of a line of remembering that no one else would ever be allowed to know outside of you and Robin. 

You’d brought up the first date you’d ever gone on. A ridiculous milkshake outing with some guy in your freshman English class that had left you feeling more confused than starry eyed or lovesick as the books promised. 

The date that had caused Robin Buckley to offer to hold your hand at random, in private moments, the week leading up to it. Just so you’d know how it felt. Just so you could figure out how to best intertwine your fingers with someone else’s without feeling terrible foreign about it all. 

It had been platonic. You both swore it had been, shrugging carelessly as you’d let your palm meet your best friends. 

And you’d felt more every time your skin brushed hers than you had the entire night with that boy. Spent the entire date wishing it was Robin’s knuckles bumping yours when you’d reached for that damn strawberry milkshake. 

“Against mine, I’d hope.” 

The dissection hadn’t ended at the hand-holding. Next, the two of you had wistfully recalled the sleepover in which you’d first decided to learn how to spoon one another. Robin had read about it in a magazine, you’d never had firsthand experience, and it just felt right to suggest. Robin had rambled for a good five minutes before you’d tugged her back into her bed and commanded her to just lay there as you figured out where you arm should go as your body curved along the back of hers. 

It had been nice. Really nice. 

You’d never gone out on another date after the Great Milkshake Catastrophe, as the two of you had called it. Robin claimed none of the boys at school could handle her eccentricism. Both of you, young girls fumbling about the world, starving for touch completely unaware. You told yourselves everyone cuddled with their friends. You told yourselves it was normal. 

But then, you’d switched positions, Robin being the big spoon as the teen magazine had described, and you swore your heart had burst when her arm wrapped around your waist and her fingers slotted between your own against your abdomen. 

You’d fallen asleep in that position. Awoken to Robin’s face pressed right into your chest as you’d spread out on your back. Ignored the flaky drool stain left behind on your skin when she’d finally joined the living once more. Pretended like you both hadn’t had the best rest of your lives as you’d clung to one another through fading dreams and subtle snores. 

It was normal, right? It had to be, because it was nice, and it had become a part of your normal sleepover rituals. 

Friends used each other’s boobs as pillows all the time, as Robin had defended. 

“Yeah, but, well-” Robin cuts off in her current stricken rambling, throwing her hands out around the air between you two, “What about when it’s more than just pecking? You know? All that gross shit, where tongues get involved and spit is exchanged and, oh God, should we be sucking on some mints right now or something? Oh my God, what if you’re allergic to my chapstic-”

Gross shit. 

The not-so-clever code word the two of you used whenever describing any sort of romantic interactions. Kissing, making out, sex. The things all of your peers were regular experiencing, sometimes even displaying in public, that the two of you only turned your noses up to. 

You didn’t want to suck the face off of Connor in your fifth period pottery class. The only person you could imagine on the receiving end of that that didn’t make your stomach turn was sitting right in front of you now, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as she clearly panicked. 

“I’m not allergic to passion fruit Lip Smackers, Robs.”

The switch to a passion fruit flavor was new. Robin had been using the strawberry flavor religiously prior, but had recently offered it to you with the excuse of your obsession with strawberry flavored things. 

And now, you’d been using it daily. Trying not to think about how many times her lips had been on it prior to yours. Trying not to think about how many ways you could twist it into some sick secondary kissing metaphor, to have your lips slick with the same sticky substance as hers had been so many times before.

Tried not to think about what Robin Buckley’s lips tasted like, period. Easier said than done when the thought crosses your mind every time you lick your lips moment after application, getting the faux sweetness all over your tongue. 

“You could be. And how would we even know? I can’t even drive! If you start to have an allergic reaction, I can’t even take you to the hospital! We don’t have a c-” 

You can’t do it anymore – any other day, you relish in the sound of Robin’s voice as she’ll squeal on and on about everything and anything. But not today. 

You cut her off with a kiss.

The very same kiss you’d both timidly agreed upon when you’d both realized graduation was next week, and neither of you had had your first kiss. 

The same deal as the cuddling. The same deal as the hand-holding. The same deal as all the pick-up lines and flirting you’d try out on each other, the same deal as all the sweet ‘love notes’ you’d write for one another and slip into backpacks and binders alike. 

The same deal as that fluttering in your chest every time she looked up at you at the local pool, eager to see if you’d witnessed her flip beneath the water. The same deal as all the nights you’d cried into your pillow after being pestered about if any boys at school caught your eyes, because you knew they hadn’t and they never would. Your eyes were already too busy, completely captured by the sight of the brunette now pressing her lips against yours. 

None of the boys at school could ever compare. 

Passion fruit and strawberry mingles within the short peck, freckled cheeks and nose smashing against yours in the most awkward fashion possible. It could be weird; it should be weird. 

It’s not. 

When you pull away, Robin is completely stunned into silence for quite possibly the first time in her life. And her lips are shining with some of your residual spit, and her cheeks are the perfect shade of rose that no actual flower could capture.

Mother Nature herself could never replicate the girl in front of you. The girl you’d been best friends with for six years now, the girl you’d pined relentlessly for for just as long. 

Only you’d just recently realized it. Somewhere between the lip smackers exchange and the movie night in which you’d intertwined your legs on the couch and felt the weight of her between your hips as she’d passed out. 

Looking at her now sort of feels like realizing it all over again. Sort of like looking out over a precipice, and taking a deep breath, because you know you’re leaping off the cliff. No scared looks over your shoulder, no hesitation as you throw your foot out into mid-air. 

The kind of rush you’ve never felt with a boy, and never will. 

“Was that…” she whispers, voice hoarse before she clears it, batting her gorgeous lashes and taking the shakiest of breaths, “Was that good?”

“I dunno,” you lie, “I think we should try again.” 

It’s like a dance, you soon realize. Following her steps, guiding her with your own. She slides her way up closer, and you press your back against your headboard. Her hands are shaking when they brush your outer thighs, and your blood is racing as you tug on her elbows to guide her to straddle your lap. 

You both had said, after all, you needed to learn to be better kissers. That you couldn’t leave high school without having shoved your tongue down someone’s throat at least once. Your words, not hers. 

Your desperate attempt to make sure that someone was Robin Buckley. Your pitiful attempt to have the one thing you don’t think you’ll ever be allowed to hold. 

The weight of her on your lap is nice. The feeling of her lips returning to yours is nice. The way neither of your hands know where to go as you let your lips linger together a few seconds longer than the first time is nice. 

It’s far nicer than Connor from English could ever make you feel. It’s far nicer than that poor boy at the diner ever was, though he tried his best. 

You’re the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’re the first one to let your palms settle at her hips, squeezing ever so gently to feel the softness beneath slot perfectly into your hold. You’re the first one to timidly include tongue, parting both your lips, trying to ignore the shivers running up your spine as all you can taste now is passion fruit lip smackers. 

Even with your own lip balm, you know your lips are horribly chapped. Dreadfully thirsty and desperate to absorb all the love you know isn’t yours to claim at this moment. Chapped lips, quivering hands, shaking breaths. Unsure movements and the ringing question in the back of your head of am I doing this right? 

Is she feeling what I’m feeling? 

Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. But she’s kissing you back. Her tongue is meeting yours in movements that are nothing like the movies, shy baps that you both will probably laugh about later. Kitten licks to test the waters. 

And then there’s the retreating. The rock of her body as she settles her weight closer to your knees, and her tongue is put away in favor of just letting her lips slot between yours in slow and lazy movements. You can feel every deep breath she takes through her nose between the kisses, you can smell her perfume seeping into your psyche every moment she spends so close to you. 

The only lesson being learned right now is that you were an idiot. You were an absolute fool, and you are absolutely in love with your best friend.

“Better?” she questions when she pulls away entirely, and you try not to whimper. Try not to show her how badly you want this, need this. 

You hate the silence and you nearly wish she’d start babbling again. You wish she’d give you a reason to kiss her and shut her up, if for nothing more than to taste passion fruit and yearning all over again. 

You’re quiet for a few beats, staring at her as your chest heaves and your heart begins to twist up into terrible shapes. “I… Yeah. Yeah. I think we’re getting the hang of it, don’t you?” 

“Oh, absolutely,” her nervous smile breaks, and you wish she wouldn’t continue the thought, but she does, “You’re gonna be a pro in no time, breaking boys hearts left and right when you kiss them like that.” 

You don’t want to break a boy’s heart. You want to break hers – you want to entirely implode her heart the way she has yours, and have the honor to know it was mutual. A mutual destruction you both dove into headfirst. You only want to kiss Robin like this, forever. You only ever want to know how right her hand feels in yours, not some guy who can’t even choke out the right words to invite you to the cinema. 

You want, and you want, and you want. 

And just as you bite your tongue, decide against pouring out all your affections all over your bed sheets and pulling her right back into you again, desperate to share air with her and only her, you can hear your front door slamming over. 

Robin has never moved so quickly in her life. Jumping off your lap, leaping to the edge of the bed as a feverish blush overtakes her entire body. As though she might be embarrassed, as though she might be regretful. 

You still haven’t moved from your position, back sticky with sweat against the headboard, when your parents walk past your open door and say hello. 

They probably don’t even hear your sad and quiet excuse of a returned greeting, too enraptured by Robin’s own excited quip of saying hi. 

Your parents love her. Adore her in a way parents should care for their child’s closest confidant. They treat her like their own daughter, and Robin’s parents do the same for you. Once a month, your mothers meet up for mimosas over brunch and probably giggle about how lucky their girls are to have one another. 

You get it. You love her too. But certainly not in the way you should love your best friend. 

They finally leave, and Robin is quick to turn to you, eyes shining with all the stars and sunshine the Universe could have to offer, “That… um, thank you.”

“For what?” you laugh breathlessly, finally shifting forward, looking down at your thighs that had served as a temporary home to the girl who holds your heart, trying to swallow down any shame and all that rapid longing. 

“For… you know,” she smiles, a secret for the two of you to only ever keep, never sharing with the world. Selfishly, you almost enjoy the sentiment, “I’m sorry I was acting so weird about it before. You were right, it didn’t have to be weird unless we made it weird. I’m lucky to have you as my best friend, you know? And like I said, if you’re…. You know, doing that with boys, you’re going to be a certified heartbreaker. The world isn’t ready for my best friend. Besides! Another thing checked off the list, right?” she pauses, and you swear the smile has gone sad, but you can’t risk the projection, “Now we can both say we’ve done… that… before graduation! And-”

You speak before you can think better of it, interrupting her entirely, “I think I need more practice.” 

She stops in her tracks, eyebrows raising wildly and eyes turning to saucers, “What?”

“I think…” your head reels, desperate to come up with an excuse to kiss her again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. “I think I need more lessons, yeah? Like, I don’t know. More practice,” Oxygen evades you in desperation, giving your best puppy dog eyes, system in overdrive as you stare at her lips and your voice drops to a careful whisper, “My parents are out of town next weekend… Maybe we could try again then? Same time?” 

You swear her smile shifts, and you hadn’t even noticed the ingenuity in it previously until she dazzles you with one that must be real. As if you’ve just made her year, lightened her load, offered over your first born to the darling girl. 

“Well….” she moves her eyes across the room, focusing on a polaroid photo of the two of you pinned to the wall above the desk, “I mean, we did say lessons, plural. I can see if Steve will cover my shift on Saturday night if that works?” 

Am I doing this right? 

“That definitely works.”

Is she feeling what I’m feeling?

“Perfect. It’s a…. date, then.” 

“It’s a date.” 

It’s not. Only to you, never to her. 

But it’ll be enough. It’s enough to know next Saturday, she’ll be back here, in your bed and in your lap, getting that passion fruit chapstick all over your lips and shaking your chest from the inside out until it’s ready to burst. 

One day, you might be the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’ll tell your best friend all the ways she feels so nice, and all the ways you want to capture that niceness in a bottle for the rest of your days. You’ll tell her the way you have no interest in the boys at school and how you’re cursed to forever be the heartbroken, never the heartbreaker, and only ever at her hand. The very same one clasping yours as she stands at your front door, thanking you vaguely once more, grinning ear to ear as she gives you three tight squeezes that are completely lost on you. 

Today’s not the day, though. Today is the day where you spend the night in your self-made cage, face buried in the pillow, noises somewhere between desperately muffled screams of frustration and dry sobs of torture leaving your lips as you picture the way she’d looked after the kiss. Her eyes softly shut, her lips still puckered, her neck entirely exposed as she tilts her chin back to look at your ceiling through her eyelids. Picturing the way that next time, you’ll try to convince her the two of you should learn the art of neck kisses. Picturing the way that next time, maybe you’ll grab her hips a little harder or let your hands wander a bit farther to her thighs. 

Tonight is the night you have no idea amongst your pity party, that Robin Buckley is on the other side of town, experiencing the exact same turmoil as she longs for the girl who tastes like her gifted strawberry lip smackers – the very same one Steve Harrington berated on her to get rid of when she’d vomited out all the ways she hates fake strawberry flavoring, but you love it, and she’d convinced herself if she bathed herself in enough of it, you might just want her the way she wants you. 

Tonight’s not the night, though. 

One day, the kissing lessons will simply be kisses. One day.

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[drarryspecificrecs]

2025.05 ~ Top 9 longest fics posted on AO3

1. What He Holds in His Hand by BluSkyeReign [M, 202k]

Draco doesn't want to identify Harry Potter when he's dragged into his home. He wants nothing to do with this mess. And when Bellatrix needs someone to torture, maybe he gives her a nudge toward Harry Potter instead of Granger, who's certain to break. It's not Draco's fault Aunt Bella leaves Harry with a curse that has him leaking Dark magic. It's certainly not his fault Dobby kidnapped Draco from Malfoy Manor along with the others when Draco whispered a few words into a broken mirror shard. And for Merlin's sake, it's not his fault he's the only one practiced in fighting Dark magic. Why should he be punished? And punished. And punished...

2. All but Death by motleygrrrl [M, 170k]

Trapped in Malfoy Manor—no way out, no guarantees they'll make it out alive. When Harry receives an invitation from Draco Malfoy for an upcoming class reunion being held at Malfoy Manor, he's not sure what to think. Against his better judgment he accepts, only to discover that the party may just cost his classmates more than they realized. Will they manage to find a way out before the dead start to outnumber the living? After all, what's the worst that could happen?

3. The Desired by @hufflepuffromantic [E, 152k]

Harry is all set to go on the first holiday he’s ever planned, his honeymoon, to the beautiful French Caribbean of La Désirade. A stunning tiny island that is literally called The Desired, how perfect is that for newlyweds to enjoy romantic time together after their wedding? The only problem is that the wedding never happened… Harry decides to go anyway. [...] Except that when he gets there he has to try and explain to the receptionist that he knows he still has to pay for the Honeymoon suite but he’d really rather not sleep in it. Surely there is a spare standard room he could stay in instead? She is not very helpful at all so he asks to speak to the hotel manager. The last person he expects to step out from the office and try to recover his holiday in paradise is Draco bloody Malfoy.

4. I Need The Sound Of Crowds, Or I Can't Fall Asleep At Night by @nixcloud [E, 109k]

Draco is barely managing his post-war PTSD, just trying to keep his head down and survive. But when Harry Potter drags him to a Muggle nightclub, where they can drink away their names and dance away their thoughts, Draco starts to break apart when he realizes it’s not just the escape he’s craving.

5. Writing to Reach You by @youhavemyswordandmybow [E, 106k]

Potter and Malfoy have been sending each other letters for twelve years. They kept it a secret. Now, the truth is out, and both of them have to deal with the consequences.

6. The Weight of Past Mistakes by write_bout_idiots [T, 84k]

Harry's fifth year students had started obsessing over some singer. It wasn't that weird. [...] But this time it was different, because the fifth years weren't fawning over some random guy, or an indie rock band, or a magical pop group. It was Draco Malfoy, and nobody but Harry seemed to care or notice.

7. Something in the Orange by @thecouchsofa [E, 75k]

Draco is sentenced to five years in Azkaban. Upon his release, life does not go on as expected.

8. We Keep Meeting Like This by kuchi_sabishii [E, 66k]

Harry is the only one in their friend group who isn’t friends with Draco Malfoy —and he intended to keep it that way. Until he didn’t. [...]

9. Colloquium by Miss_and_the_Rope [E, 63k]

It's the Ministry of Magic's annual conference, to be held in Bristol this year. Everyone has to attend, including the Auror Office's mind healer, Draco Malfoy, who's pining over Head Auror Harry Potter. When the hotel they're all forced to stay in is vandalized and a person murdered, Draco has to shake suspicion off of himself and find the real killer. Will he be an asset to the investigation, led by the man he's secretly in love with, or will he just make things harder for everyone, including himself?

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

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Red is the New Green by gryfferin_7 [M, 16k]

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—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

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Character A Character B: Monthly Bingo 2025 | @character-a-character-b (1)

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Roast Your Bunnies - Quill Quest! (1)

TTPD Presents Botanical Bangin (1)

[vicolette]

A D(eb)ate !

– A/N : picked random flavors idk.

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, mentions of y/n & pet names, arguing

"Bro, are you serious?"

"What the fu-" Alejandro almost choked on his own saliva as he raised an eyebrow at your question, although it was mostly due to the nickname that you insisted was 'a bad habit'. He believed that you were lying to him, since you don't call anyone else these silly names that only he gets. "No, are you serious?"

This was supposed to be a cute, little date, since Alejandro had insisted on going out. Ever since FC Barcelona had officially won the La Liga, Alejandro was full of energy – unlike you, due to your pollen allergy.

However, the weather app had said that it wouldn't be so bad today and it was the truth.

The truth, that it would be a cute, little date, though, was a big lie.

The ice cream truck had passed by a few minutes ago, where you two had bought two of them – a strawberry ice cream for you and a mint chocolate for Alejandro. Well, now, as you both sat at a bench not far from the beach, you two were arguing.

About ice cream flavors.

Apparently, Alejandro firstly wanted to buy a watermelon flavored ice cream, which sounded absolutely weird to you. Now, as you two leaned against the headrest of the bench arguing about which flavors are the best ones, your stomach growled.

He gave you a raised eyebrow, before seeing how you haven’t even taken a single bite of it yet, whereas he was halfway done. "Eat your ice cream, before it melts…"

Just before you could roll your eyes at him and finally take a bite, he finished his sentence. "… bro."

Your immediate reaction, which consisted of kicking his feet after you had let out a loud gasp, made him throw his head back and laugh. Silence came from your side afterwards as you realized the impact of being called 'bro' by your own romantic partner, merely eating the ice cream in disbelief.

"Oh my- you should’ve seen your face!" Alejandro continued to laugh before he felt something on his hand, looking down to see his meal beginning to melt. He scoffed and smiled at the absurdity of the situation, but nonetheless continued to eat. "You look hilarious."

"It’s 'looked', bro."

"Nah, 'look'. You have a beard now, bro."

Once he said that, you were genuinely confused as to what he meant, when your eyes suddenly widened as you wiped the remaining parts of ice cream off of your face with your hand. The strawberry flavor made you enjoy it more than you'd like to admit, especially if he had been the one to buy it.

It seemed like getting together with Alejandro was a big mistake, since he kept laughing at how ridiculous you looked like and stared at you, suddenly going quiet. In response, you looked at him up and down to see why he would stare at you now, making him huff.

"I was trying to get you flustered." His words made you snort in disbelief at how confident he was, shaking your head for the thousandth time as you looked at his ice cream. It took him a moment, before a grin spread over his face as he moved his mint chocolate meal closer to your face. "You wanna take a bite?"

One thing that Alejandro knew about you, was that you definitely liked to try his food out; whatever he had wanted to get, he would always offer you, if you gave him the very same look that you had on your face right now.

With a nod, you both exchanged your ice cream and took a bite, with Alejandro raising his eyebrows at how good it tasted. "I actually hate strawberry flavored things, but this is good!"

"Excuse me, what?" You gasped at how he could even dare to say that, your eyes widening in bewilderment. He could only think about how exasperated you were acting, as if he wouldn't say something as absurd as this every single time you two went out to eat.

"What's next – you like onions?" At your comment, Alejandro let out a wheeze at how low your standards were for him now, shaking his head when he remembered how he would always give his mother the onions.

"Well..." As you left your sentence unfinished, you took a proper look at him, before a mean idea popped up in your head. Meanwhile, your boyfriend could only smirk at what you had thought of him, until his smirk faded away at your next few words.

"... You kinda look like an onion."

"What did you just say?"

– A/N : decided to post every two days now bc I lose my motivation so easily if I have to update daily🥀

[cluescorner]

Tim Drake has a weird fucking function

The thing about Tim that I find unique is that his life became SO MUCH WORSE after joining the heroing thing. Everybody else had a mid-to-shit life before becoming a hero/living with Bruce and mostly everybody (except Jason who LITERALLY DIED) had their life improved by being a hero/being Bruce's kid (or at least it is typically portrayed as such.

Tim had the exact opposite trajectory. His life wasn't perfect before he became Robin, but like...multi-millionaire/billionaire (canon is unclear, but he's within Gotham's upper-strata) kid with both natural intelligence + charisma and a bright future ahead of him and parents who were emotionally neglectful but nothing really beyond that (which is also a form of trauma, but all of the info we have indicates that the Drakes were no Arthur Brown or David Cain) and he still had other people he could rely on outside of them. He went to boarding school, which could be something horrible OR something amazing depending on your own thoughts/experiences. I grew up having a commute where we'd drive past a really pretty and rich af boarding school that literally everybody in our area DREAMED of going to, so to me the idea of going to boarding school sounds incredible but mileage may vary. Tim seems like the type of kid who would thrive in that though. Based on what we know in canon atm, his pre-robin life was fucking amazing.

And then he starts being the sidekick and working towards becoming Robin. His parents immediately get kidnapped and poison themselves through drinking tainted water; his mom dies and his dad is in a coma. This is not the fault of Robin, but Tim himself muses about the idea that Robin and dead parents are linked: to become Robin completely, you must lose your parents. And with how fate/destiny/canon events can operate in comics universes, maybe he isn't that far off. Once his dad wakes up, their relationship becomes strained as the man grieves the loss of his wife and realizes that his son has been doing vigilantism as a hobby. It is unclear exactly how good of a parent Jack was before the incident, but the results of Tim's involvement with the Robin mantle has definitely made things worse between father and son. Jack will also die within quick succession of 2 of Tim's best friends, his girlfriend, and his other father. He will also effectively lose like 1/2 his loved ones in the fallout of all of that mess including: his older brother, his other friends (both civilian and superhero), and the stepmother with whom he shared what I would argue is his best parent-child relationship (Dana also may have died, but it's left unclear). He has stopped pursuing higher education (the moment he even applied for college he 'died', and it seems he hasn't made another attempt since) and if he wasn’t a major focus of the media before he sure is now. He tries to quit briefly (in fact he initially was planning on quitting once someone more suited came along) and cannot bring himself to do so. Even when he does manage to get away for a while, his superhero life impacts the pre-robin life he is trying to go back to. Leaving is an impossibility, this is all there is for him now. He also isn’t allowed to make mistakes anymore, not when lives hang in the balance. The one who enforces that impossible standard the most (besides Bruce depending on who's writing) is himself. He’s got TRAUMA now and people want to hurt him constantly. He is constantly questioning his own sanity and morality and place in the world. He almost dies like every month. Tim grows colder and less grounded, he is becoming both a better and a worse version of himself at the same time. He’s saving lives in the same few issues as he’s setting up a Saw movie plot for the man who killed his father. He is haunted by the ghosts of his past and the looming figure of his future. His life becomes SO MUCH FUCKING WORSE after he becomes Robin. Some of it is the fault of others, some is the fault of circumstance, and some of it is due to his own actions. But basically all of Tim's worst traumas and life-changing moments are either tied to or caused by Robin. Dick's parents would still be dead, Jason would still be living on the streets, Stephanie would still have Arthur Brown for a father and a lot of other things that deserve their own posts/IDK if they've been retconned, and Damian would still have been raised in the eco-cult where death is a constant. Those are life circumstances that occur without the involvement of Robin, the only one who even needs Bruce involved at all in their series of events is Damian. But Tim? All of what is considered his 'worst' moments occur after he assumes the role.

This idea is what I find the coolest and most fascinating about Tim as a character. Being a hero is usually portrayed as either an outright awesome thing or a righteous duty that one must fulfill or (maybe in a grimmer and/or more grounded story) a sacrifice to your interpersonal relationships/mental health that is made for the greater good. For Tim, being a superhero actively ruined his life (both because of the general circumstances surrounding being a kid vigilante and the choices he made as part of that role). It's never portrayed that way in canon because we need to come out of issues going 'wow being a superhero is so cool! I'm gonna buy the next issue!', but when you just look at Tim's life literally everything really bad that we know of occurred after he became Robin.

[raddestrose]

Kk Yall i was GENUINELY gonna watch Windbreaker then Doctor Stone,

But its pike 11:30 pm and im wakin up at six ABD this ones like 54 minutes long

So unfortunately to all Windbreak shall have to wait one more day

seeing how this one is 54 minutes long, let’s see how long this post is going to be and how much I can talk

But also WOW 54 minutes

OOHHG A PLAY

HAAAAAAAA CHROMES SENKU

THE BROTHERS AS TREES

Is he really going to count the ENTIRE TIME

Howd they get the hair so accurate

He even got the tchehe laugh right

not Gen doing recruitment events

Magma and Yo getting along is probably like one of the top 10 dangerous things in this world

But you are right Suika they usually do look like idiots

Yo, you really gotta shut up and stop running your mouth. You’re like the dumbest person here and Mantle is part of the village. 

sorry you caught that straight mantle but magma’s design actually looks pretty good. The elevator actually DOES go to the top floor

again, sorry for insulting both of them. I just really don’t like Yo. Well that’s sort of a lie. He’s a very interesting character. But, I like making fun of him more though.

I like Yo’s stone mark. It looks like he’s got really big eyelashes on.

OH GOD HIS SHIP IS CRAZY

i’m not gonna lie I liked magma’s

Like in comparison to Senku’s, anybody’s and everybody’s design is going to be like child’s play

but in a standard boat building competition as someone who has never been at a boat designing competition, his idea seemed pretty good. It seemed to hold up so like keep at it, kiddo I don’t know

did you guys forget there was a merger you have like upwards maybe 100 new people

 and like they’re jacked

 yeah you guys have a boat, but you don’t have a sailor like you have people who know boats, but you need like a SAILOR sailor

Like someone’s special interest/talent has to he boat

Like a GOD TIER navigatior

and like old school boating, no modern technological systems because well there’s none of that

Who’s the blonde Bob?

Oh, she just remembered something.

Oh, a nautical school that actually sounds pretty cool

 yeah who is this Mystery bro?

 little bro, really loves the boats

He’d be perfect for you guys

Dang little bro I think those girls are a bit too old for you though

We’ll nevermind he decided for you

OH MY GOD

well, hello to you, sir

Oh my God, give me a second you guys oh God

you guys can’t see it, but I’m staring at my screen with my mouth wide open slack jawed

pardon my who is this fine specimen Jesus Christ

no no no, Minami he’s all good. This won’t be a problem.

oh Christ man put on some clothes

Hold on now you just said Senku’s favorite word he’ll hold you to that

Changing the topic like changing it changing it oh my gosh, his fingers that was such a cool choice like that was a really cool decision to make character design wise. That’s really cool

well, found your sailor for you

Oh, they’re on the same freakuency

Sir, PLEASE put on some clothes

You are putting far too much trust in the screen

and plus I see what your outfit is gonna look like and it’s gonna look stellar so please change into what you get a cute little cool hat

IT KEEPS GETTIN LOWER IM SCARED

WAS THAT MAAS SCREAM

OH MY DAYS YOU GUYS

no, in fact, you are quite right, sir

oh, you guys you picked the right person he like oh my God he’s the boat version of Senku

He like he KNOWS what’s up 

Still, I’m not gonna stop talking about this that choice to do the stone with his hands like his fingers that was really cool

 Oh these two are just gonna get along swimmingly

  dude what like I know you’re playing him for a fool right now like I know that and all but what?

It’s so weird hearing those words coming out of his mouth

Dang, he saw right through it too

It’s oil isn’t it?

Oh my God, I was right

Damn, I was gonna make a really funny joke about being American, but I just realized they’re Japanese so never mind

No, what Gen said ERIOUSLY SAY

 yeah I like this guy I like him a lot

Is he…first of all is he wearing two belts at the same time? I just noticed that.

But anyways, back to my main point is he trying to pull a fast one over Senku and Gen?

like sir, these are the last two people that you can trick or like try and change the situation to curry your favor quit while you’re a head man you get the boat, boatings your favorite, just boat

also third and Random thing I’ve known him for give me a second eight minutes eight minutes. He seems like an only child something tells me he’s a younger brother. I don’t know just something about it.

There is no way that he’s actually gonna be able to rip them off

He’s gonna manage to end up in debt isn’t he

Are you tryingt to… bring back… capitalism???

I had a brief conversation with a friend about this a month two months a month and a half ago have a good day exact timeline, but I think that’s what she said he tried to do

oh my God he did

Well, that was very fast

Man, money knows money he’ll find a way

Yeah, Yo? Real slick of you man

something tells me that he also just really likes dragons and he wanted to name money that for a good hot minute

Because how did he just have that at the ready?

Bro, child labor laws are gonna be coming for your ass

Minami, ma’am, trust me on this

No, I like this Nanami guy this Ryusui dude

but this is the type of person that Senku can play like a FIDDLE

he really likes snapping

Do those two just walk around with no shoes on?

The floor has to be incredibly uncomfortable and like everybody else wears shoes, so why don’t they?

 oh my God that was beautiful. I gotta look at that again sorry I just started that scene of the water for like a good 30 seconds. I spaced out without realizing.

oh dang, Mt. Fuji done blew up

OH MY GOD I HAVE AN IDEA

Suika you are a GENIUS

Y’all they could like make a hot air balloon or something

then they could totally make that map

 oh they’re gonna scam him, aren’t they?

 dang talk about a stock market crash yeesh

OH MY GOD I GUESSES IT

i feel so smart you guys

I like that Magma could SENSE Yo was about to be an asshole

Oh poor poor Yuzuriha

AHHHH THEY HIGH FIVED

You guys “Yuzuriha’s Easy Handcrafts” is a BANGER series

Y’all they need a loom they’d be able to get that done in no time

No way she asked oh my God i feel so just smart

i guessed another thing

Oh, he made her an INDUSTRIAL one they besties for real

I like how Gen just makes these evil contests that help them out

Like he’s telling you to spin thread but he looks like he’s threatening the life of your newborn and all of your ancestors for the next ten thousand years

Who gave her Stone Age monster energy?

I like how Taijus just used to that by now

but seriously, that is how people who sew are while they’re making things

like I have people, you can ask on this app that can confirm

Like I’ve talked to while I’ve been showing I was intense

Poor Kinro looks like a robot

AWWWW SUIKA LOOKS SO CUTE

DANG HE BOUGHT LIKE EVERYTHING

every designers dream…

I’m being dramatic anyways

I like how he knows this, but he’s still doing it

Why do they look like little demons?

I mean, that’s not far from how they are but still

 Yo dude, you don’t even know the half of it the amount of times that I have stabbed myself with a sewing needle is probably why I was able to fall asleep getting a tattoo

 I am genuinely curious to see how Gen will do this

 Ryusui, my dear sweet summer child, I can guarantee you you did not see through his tricks

Like if it were anyone else you’d have a pretty decent shot, but not him

Um, Sir, that’s not a joker card

GENS FACE IS KILLING ME

BROS WHYS HIS EYES SPARKLING

he dropped it ALL

He spent EVERYTHING didn’t he

 you guys he looks like he’s gonna jump if you say no just let him have this one

I mean, he literally ran all the way from the village

YESSSSSSS

HE GOT ITTTTTTT

Poor Gen, now he’s gonna have three people spouting random nonsense that he won’t understand

oh my gosh, they draw a sunrise so beautifully

aww,ah kid

they are so in sync it’s scary

 uh-oh, Chrome and Ryusui are about to go toe to toe

 Hey, so I’m no sailor, scientist, or adventure king but that does not look good

OOHHHHH A CLOUD DRAGON

I feel like I’m in one of those immersive 3-D rides

 Imma be unserious for a split second, stress and heavy downpour do WONDERS for you Ryusui

GOOD ON YOU CHROME

NICE GOING

DID HE GET BLOWN OUT OF THE BALOON

NOOOOOOOO YOUR HATTTT

YESSS HE GOT IT BACK

now get Senku back in the cart

THEY HIGHVIVED

How longs he been hanging there????





[entomolog-t]

Hey! I’ve been a fan of G/T content for quite a while, but I’ve mostly stuck to Deviantart&Wattpad. Pretty recently I decided to create a Tumblr account in an attempt to find more content, and I’ve been amazed by how interactive the community is here! However, I noticed something that I find pretty weird, and just wanted to get an opinion from someone who seems to be a pretty active member of the community, at least from what I’ve seen.

In all the posts I’ve seen, I’ve never seen VR mentioned even once. I might just not be looking in the right place, but I just found it weird. I’ve been an avid VRChat player for a while, and having spent a large amount of time there I noticed the potential it holds for genres like G/T. I was expecting to find at least a single mention of it somewhere here, but I never have. I see lots of posts from both sides of G/T that mention something like, “I really wish I could just hold/be held by someone, etc.” and, well, I’ve had experiences like that. I’ve fallen asleep and woken up in a friend’s hands before. I’ve had friends sitting/standing on my shoulder. They don’t even know this community exists, these interactions just happen naturally. 

I just want to share some of the experiences I’ve had, and when I went looking, nobody here seemed to know it was even possible. So yeah, that’s what finally motivated me to interact directly with the community. To at least let someone know that it is possible, and far more accessible than most seem to realize.

I’ll also make a standard post, but considering the fact that I’m a very new account I don’t expect many to see it. Thus why I messaged directly. I know this was a bit of a ramble, I'm still a little nervous about finally interacting with something I've only passively watched for quite a long time. So thanks for taking the time to read through, and I’d love to hear your opinion on why it isn’t mentioned, or anything else you wanna say! Take care out there!

OH! This is quite the interesting ask!! I may not be the best person to answer as I am far from techie.

First off, that sounds incredibly fun! I've only ever tried VR with an escape room - which oddly enough had a silly sizey experience; There was an issue with the calibration or something on one of the headsets and a friend who's just a little over 5ft had their in game avatar show up ballpark around 7ft tall.

I love that g/t seems to happen naturally with your interactions too! I'd love to hear more!

Now for the meat of the question- why isn't this mentioned? Again, keep in mind, I'm no techie or avid gamer so this is really biased towards myself. In no particular order,

Age

Price point

Tech Difficulty

Privacy

Missing sensations

My first guest would be age. I myself am in my mid/late twenties, and just never really grew up with that kind of tech, so theres just a lack of knowledge and not more than a passing interest in it. I think with age there also comes issues with free time, though I'll speak on that more with privacy. I think in general there tends to be a perception that VR chat rooms have a lot of minors (whether this is true or not, I have no clue, but as an adult that is a concern).

My second guess would be price point. Now, again, I am not a tech wiz, so I really don't know too well what would be a good headset (if any ol' cheap one would work, or if the oculus is the way to go), but I know the well known headsets are not at all cheap, and do also require a something to run them on (from my understanding thats just a good enough gaming pc? I have no clue.) Basically, there is a monetary component at play.

Thirdly would be tech difficulty. Some people are just bad at technology, and don't want to learn a new form of it.

Now privacy is what I would think is a big factor- and not online privacy. Roommates, siblings, spouses, family- if someone lives with another person they may not be comfortable being seen interacting on VRchat (especially with how paranoid some of us get with g/t), and then finding alone time is just an absolute pain with work, school, clubs, responsibilities etc.

Lastly, I think some people are hesitant about the missing sensations. Essentially, "who cares if all I can do is see it, I want to feel it." I think for some people it may have the opposite effect, and the degree of realism mixed with the very obviously "not real" cues could be more upsetting- being so close to having something you fantasize about but being reminded its not actually real.

Those are just my thoughts- and I hope others will add some of their own! This is quite the interesting topic and I'd love to hear more about it! As I mentioned earlier, I have very limited experience with VR, but from what little experience I did have it was a ton of fun! I feel like VRchat could be something a lot of people in the community could enjoy if they knew more/had access to it.

[unusual]

I mainly engage with League through Arcane but I knew about Viktor before the show came out and enjoyed his design a lot and honestly your take is 100% correct

I've seen people say that Riot making Arcane the main canon wasn't a good idea and I'm curious about your thoughts on that since you know more about the lore of the game itself than me lol. From what I've seen while the idea of a unified canon sounds nice I think League lore works best because it's prime for "putting my favorite characters in a situation" kind of material

Thank you!! I agree with that, yeah. It’s sort of a weird situation, but more or less this is how I would sum it up:

League of Legends already has one large (more-or-less) unified canon — with the exception of a few champions who are old, uncared for and out of date, most everyone seems to have their own special place and niche within the “standardized” / mainline universe and some connections with (generally) at least one or two other champions. Arcane was originally conceived as an AU, which isn’t weird for League; Star Guardian, Heartsteel/KDA (aka musicverse), Spirit Blossom, etc all exist in canon alternate universes inside League of Legends because the multiverse and time travel canonically exist in League.

The issues mainly begin as a result of Arcane blowing up independently of League, leading to a lot of people who dislike League of Legends (for any number of reasons) functionally getting into League lore and treating it as a separate thing. Riot also has its own issues with being kind of ashamed of the world it’s created, but imo there was already a pretty solid and flexible canon that plenty of people were already happy with and playing around with

This is why people are upset — retconning the world lore and biographies for select champions who were in Arcane has weird, messy implications that make it so that right now everything is very disjointed especially around Piltover and Zaun. There are champions who technically “don’t exist” right now (Blitzcrank, Camille, Seraphine, etc) and champions in weird positions (Renata) and overall there is sort of a feeling that Arcane should have stayed an AU because it was maybe a bad idea to recenter the lore around a miniseries that had to cut and adapt a LOT of the worldbuilding for timing/pacing reasons. I’ve compared it in the past to Marvel’s attempts to make the MCU the “main” universe… it just kind of doesn’t work and messes things up

The changes they’re planning to implement are probably going to take years to fully integrate because now they’re putting everything into this whole cinematic universe of tv shows they’re producing (which takes time) so I don’t know what it’s going to look like fully realized but I’m pretty skeptical of its future at the moment :P this is just how I feel about it right now

I also am mourning old viktor and jayce lol 💔 I’ll get over it and am definitely not as upset as other people because I’m coping by pretending they still exist in another universe but I will definitely miss seeing them around

[misslisamiray]

Time for Chapter 5 of Down With the Rickness!

Quick note, this chapter has a minor emeto warning - there's no actual vomitting, but there is some brief discussion of it. It IS minor, I promise, but I just want to make everyone aware it's there so there's no unpleasant surprises if that's something you'd rather skip.

Now, without further ado, let's pick up where we left off last week! New chapter is below the cut.

“Almost forgot, I still need to take your temperature. Stick it under your tongue and try to not find a way to make this a problem too, please.” Morty sighed, handing Rick the thermometer.

“Well, I could *Cough!* *Cough!* say something about how outdated it is – seriously, do we not own a touch free model? Who doesn’t these days? Or point out that I have built-in sensors that can detect any changes in my body temperature.” Rick said, turning the thermometer over in his hands repeatedly. Noticing the glare that earned him from Morty, he added, “But I mean, even if it’s not exactly cutting edge tech, this thing is adequate for the job it’s designed to do. And I hate to admit this, but my sensors might not be working at the moment, so…” Without further stalling, he finally put the thermometer in his mouth.

“Let me see.” Morty said flatly when it beeped a moment later. Wordlessly, Rick handed the thermometer back to him.

“100° even. That’s not great, but I don’t think it’s too bad, either. Weird question, but your normal temperature is like, the same as anyone else’s, right? With all your implants and modifications, it’s not super high or low to begin with, is it? I just realized this might not be as useful as I thought.” Morty said, studying the thermometer. Rick alternated briefly between looking at Morty and down at his own hands. He hadn’t expected that question, much less for it to strike the nerve it had.

“Great. An existential crisis about my humanity is just what I needed right now. And since when do I give a fuck?... Ugh. Stupid fever, stupid cold. I really can’t think.” he mumbled. Then he realized Morty was staring at him worriedly – what the boy had been able to decipher of Rick’s muttering was both concerning, and not an answer to his question.

“In spite of all my modifications, Morty, yes. At the end of the day, for better or worse, I’m still human.”

“I wasn’t saying you aren’t…”

“’Worse’ including still being susceptible to bullshit like the common cold. *Sniff!* So yes, you can take the number on that thing at face value. Obviously, there’s some variation – some people’s baseline is higher or lower than the ‘standard’ 98.6° Fahrenheit, 37° Celsius. I *COUGH!* normally run low myself, but not to an inhuman degree.”

“Okay. That’s good. It means your fever isn’t that bad. Not like, dangerous or anything. Phew.” Morty said, still a little puzzled by Rick’s reaction to what he’d thought was a harmless question. No answer from Rick, who was both still lost in thought… and starting to feel the effects of having downed the nearly full medicine bottle, then chasing it with an also nearly full flask.

Finally registering the fact Morty had said… something to him, he mumbled, “Y-yeah.What *URP!* ever you say, Morty. Uhh, remind me, what did you just say?”

“I said it’s a good thing your fever doesn’t seem bad, and ummm, you doing okay? You don’t look so hot.” Morty answered, noticing how unfocused Rick’s gaze had become.

Rick struggled to reply. Morty’s voice was echoing all around the two of them, but also sounded far away. It didn’t help that the walls appeared to be spinning. And melting. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were just one or the other, but the combo was brutal.

“Shit. M-Morty, do the walls look normal to you? I know it’s hard to tell since they won’t stay still, but…” he slurred, closing his eyes and trying to fight off a wave of dizziness.

“The walls? *SIGH!* Rick, the walls look fine. You, on the other hand, look terrible.” Morty replied, realizing exactly what was happening.

“Gee, it’d be great if everyone could stop telling me that! *COUGH!* *COUGH!* I’m sick, okay? Let’s see you or Summer win any beauty contests while you feel like you’re being suffocated by your own snot.” Rick whined, punching the bed and opening his eyes just enough to glare at Morty.

“God, you’re a drama queen, Rick. You know what I meant. Or at least, you would if you weren’t seeing what, a dozen of me?” Morty said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t give yourself so much credit, Morty! There’s only 5, maybe 6 of you at most. Ohhhh. I think, I think I might’ve made a slight error in judgment with the, with the medicine there, Morty.” Rick snapped, forcing his eyes open the rest of the way to get an accurate count of just how many Mortys were lecturing him. That led to instant regret. The sight of 5-6 annoyed, eye-rolling grandsons, combined with the melting, spinning walls, made the dizziness multiple times worse. Rick quickly shut his eyes again and sat stooped over, cradling his head in his hands.

“Gee, you think? Easy, pal. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. You uh, think you need to hurl?” Morty sighed, rubbing Rick’s back with one hand and holding a small trash can in front of him with the other.

Rick thought it over once he was able to process the question, finally answering, “N-no. Ugh, maybe. No. I just, just think I need to sit down.”

“Rick, you are sitting down.” Morty informed him, still holding the trash can firmly in place.

“Really?” Rick, cautiously opening his eyes just a little to check, was clearly surprised by that information.

“Uh-huh.”

“In that case, I think *ACHOO!* I need to lie down now. Like, right now. Goodnight, Summer.” Rick groaned. With that, he fell forward on the bed, landing flat on his face, and was instantly out like a light.

“Seriously?! I’ve seen you barely get a buzz from huffing crystals that killed a guy made out of boulders and 10 times your size! Plus, you did twice as much as him, so he might as well have been 20 times bigger than you! I swear, if after everything, you’ve managed to OD or give yourself permanent brain damage with over-the-counter cold medicine…” Morty yelled, tossing the trash can aside and shaking Rick by the shoulders.

“Come on! It’s not even one of the kinds they keep locked up at the pharmacy. It’s shit you’d buy next to like, vitamins and deodorant! Pretending to be asleep so you don’t get a lecture you deserve isn’t funny. And I’m not falling for it, Rick! Rick?” Morty’s voice turned timid and a little scared when he realized Rick was still much too quiet and not moving. He was about to call for help, when the loud snoring started.

“Okay. You’re sleeping. Sleeping is good. You need to rest, and I could use a rest from, well, you.” Morty mumbled, clearly relieved. He let go of Rick’s shoulders, causing him to land face down on his bed again.

Morty stood there for a few minutes, observing Rick. He was not a quiet sleeper to begin with, and his snoring was currently much louder than usual due to his congestion. But he seemed to be breathing normally otherwise, so that was good. With minimal effort, Morty rolled Rick onto his left side so he wouldn’t choke if he did throw up. He also put the small trashcan in front of him, just in case. He tried fixing the tangled mess of blankets, which was easier said than done, eventually managing to get Rick mostly covered. Since his grandfather had passed out at the wrong end of the bed and the nightstand was by his feet, Morty placed the tissue box next to Rick’s head.

Listening to the increasingly loud snoring, Morty took a look around the room to see if there was anything else he could do, anything Rick might need. Nothing jumped out at him, but he saw something Rick definitely would not be needing today -the portal gun. Morty grabbed it tentatively, expecting an alarm to go off, or maybe a robot arm to snatch the gun out of his hand. Nothing happened, and the only sound was still Rick’s snoring. Before that could change, Morty hurried out of the room. 

Summer was standing in a mile-long line at the Space Wal-Mart just past Neptune.

“Seriously? Why is there only one register open?! This store is like, half the size of this whole planet! Seems like pretty terrible planning to me.” she complained. Similar sentiments were being echoed by various alien creatures throughout the line.

“Yep. It’s shitty, alright. This place purposely understaffs and overworks its employees to an insane degree, despite the fact it continually breaks its own profit records. It works – barely – when they’re ‘fully’ staffed. But then you get days where they have callouts, one cashier gets eaten by another, everyone else is busy either breaking up brawls or helping at the broken self-checkouts, and well…” Space Beth observed, tapping Summer’s shoulder and gesturing to the chaos.

“Mom! What are you doing here? Don’t tell me Grandpa had a list of bullshit errands for you to run, too.” Summer exclaimed.

“No. Well, I suppose technically yes… Your other mom filled me in on what’s happening, so I’m here to help.”

“Cool. This list is so long. And boring. And dumb. Clearly Grandpa’s had it for ages and has just kept adding more shit to it that he doesn’t want to do because this sucks.” Summer complained, pulling the notebook from her pocket.

“That sounds like him. So, I hear you won this charming prize by calling him out on his bs and figuring out he has a cold, not the scary sounding alien disease he told you he has.” SB commented. She grabbed the notebook from Summer’s hand and started flipping through the pages.

“I knew it! Did Home Mom figure it out, too, or get him to come clean after I left? Oh em gee, if it was Dad, Grandpa Rick must be furious!” Summer giggled.

“Actually, he sent her off to work right after you had to leave on this little field trip. She called me to ask what I knew about the terrible illness Dad supposedly has, and…” Space Beth explained with a shrug, adding, “As for Jerry and Morty, there is a very good chance they still believe Dad and are waiting for him to stop sneezing and break out in horns or some dumb shit. But it’s fine. The three of them can work all of that out on their own.”

“Totes. So, how do you want to divide this thing? Besides everything else lame about it, it’s not even in any sort of order. If we go from first page to last, we’ll be bouncing back and forth across galaxies for days. I mean, it says ‘Return books to First Library of Saturn’, followed by ‘Hardware store on Gear World for replacement finger screwdrivers’, and then ‘Martian cell phone store to dispute charges for calls to the Planet of the Apes’. Ugh. It makes no sense.” Summer complained.

“Yeah, deciphering this mess could be an all-day project in and of itself. Unless of course, I do this.” Space Beth agreed. She put on a visor and pressed a button on the side of it while flipping through the notebook pages. It scanned the incoherent mess that was Rick’s list, and a few seconds later, two smaller, neater lists printed from the device on her wrist.

“There. Now that everything that was written multiple times has been filtered out, and we don’t have to decipher the scribbles Dad calls handwriting, this is looking much more manageable. So, you wanna handle everything in this solar system, and I’ll take care of everything outside it? Looks like a pretty even split.” Space Beth said, holding the two lists out to her daughter. Summer grabbed one, along with shoving the original back into her pocket.

“Thanks, Cool Mom. Ugh, this line still isn’t moving. Any ideas for making this suck less?”

“Hey, I already cut your lameass chore list in half. I’m not a miracle worker.”

“That’s fair.”

The two of them looked around at the chaos. The line was now out the door and wrapping around the building. Several fights and at least one fire had started.

“Look, I wouldn’t normally encourage this sort of behavior, but if a major corporation like this can’t show enough concern for either its employees or customers to prevent all this from happening, maybe they deserve to, I don’t know, have a shopping cart full of random shit stolen from them?” Space Beth suggested.

Summer looked a little surprised by the idea, so SB continued , “Or maybe… it’s very important you get all of this back to your poor sick grandfather on Earth right away, and there’s no time to be standing around here.”

Seeing that her daughter was intrigued, but still skeptical, she quickly added, “And just think, if you get caught, you’ll be banned for life, so Rick can never make you come here again.” Those were the magic words.

Already charging for the exit, Summer shouted back, “Half of this is alien junk food, and the rest is stupid crap Grandpa saw commercials for and won’t even remember why he wanted. None of it is important at all, but everything else you said is spot on! Now come on, bitch! This was your idea! Run for it!” Space Beth immediately ran after her.

“Yeah! 10 finger discount, assholes! I am outta here!” a large, red alien with 10 digits per hand shouted, picking up his overstuffed cart with one arm while pumping his other fist in the air triumphantly. With that, all the customers who weren’t busy fighting each other or vandalizing things ran for the exits.

“No! Wait! Stop! Security! I need Security, NOW!” the sole cashier, a petite, blue-green alien with 3 eyes and long purple hair yelled. She was brandishing a fire extinguisher in each hand, one to actually put out a fire, and the other to club someone trying to sneak up behind her to steal cigarettes.

Three very muscular security guards, similar to the red alien but more orange in color, appeared and proceeded to be no help whatsoever. One grabbed all the candy they could hold -which was quite a bit, considering the large, 10-fingered hands – and made a run for it. The other two looked at each other for a few seconds, then jumped on the conveyor belt and started making out. Another fire started at the next closed register.

“You know what? Fuck it! I’m better than this job, anyway. I quit!” the tired cashier exclaimed, throwing her two fire extinguishers aside. She tossed her apron on top of the making out security guards, and easily picked up a vending machine several times larger than her small body. Then it was her turn to run.

At the exit, Summer paused to smile directly at the security camera, making sure to hold up her driver’s license for good measure. Space Beth didn’t do all that, but did wave at the camera. And then they were out the door, never to set foot in Space Walmart again.

[pureverwatertanks]

Purever Stainless Steel Water Tanks: Benefits, Uses, and Buying Guide

Let’s be honest, buying a water tank isn’t something most people get excited about. But it should be. Because when you think about it, storing clean water safely is one of the most important things you’ll do for your home, office, or commercial space.

And that’s where Purever Stainless Steel Water Tanks come in.

I stumbled upon them while helping a friend renovate his farmhouse in the outskirts of Pune. His requirement was simple: “I want something that lasts, keeps the water clean, and doesn’t look like a giant plastic blob in the backyard.” Not too much to ask, right? But we soon realized how limited the options were, until someone recommended Purever.

Why Purever, Though?

There’s no shortage of steel water tanks out there. But Purever isn’t just about the material, it’s about how they build it. From the welding technique (they use something called Automatic Purging Pulse TIG, which sounds as cool as it is effective) to the 100% food-grade stainless steel used, every element feels engineered for durability and hygiene.

They’ve been doing this for years. And what I like is that they didn’t just stop at making tanks, they created a full water storage system that’s well thought-out, sleek, and designed to actually serve people’s needs, not just tick a box.

SS Water Tanks Benefits (The Real Ones That Matter)

Now, let's talk about the SS Water Tanks Benefits beyond the usual marketing fluff.

No Plastic Smell: You know that weird rubbery smell you sometimes get from stored water? Stainless steel doesn’t do that.

Zero Algae Growth: Sunlight bounces off steel. That means no green slime creeping in from the inside walls.

Low Maintenance: I’m lazy when it comes to cleaning tanks. The inner surface of these tanks is so smooth, it rarely needs more than a quick wash once a year.

Built to Outlive You (Almost): Unlike plastic tanks that crack or warp over time, a Purever tank stands strong—through harsh sun, rain, even if birds decide to host a party on top.

Where Can You Use These Tanks?

That’s the cool part. They’re not just for homes.

Hotels and restaurants use them to meet hygiene standards.

Factories and pharma setups go for them because they can’t afford contamination.

Even modern apartments are replacing their old tanks with stainless steel ones because they look better and perform better.

Honestly, if you’re dealing with water storage on any scale—residential, commercial, industrial, Purever Stainless Steel Water Tanks are a solid (and smart) choice.

Buying Guide: What to Know Before You Invest

Here’s a simple checklist to help you choose the right steel water tank, without getting lost in the jargon:

Capacity

Don’t overestimate. Don’t underestimate it. Figure out your daily usage (family size or business demand), then add a 20% buffer. Purever has sizes ranging from small 500L to massive industrial capacities.

Material Grade

Make sure it's 304 or 316 food-grade stainless steel. Purever ticks this box—it’s non-reactive, rust-resistant, and safe for drinking water.

Layering & Insulation

In hot regions, get a double-walled or insulated tank. It keeps water cool and reduces microbial growth.

Fittings & Accessories

Check if the tank comes with standard accessories—like SS inlets/outlets, manholes, vents, and overflows. Purever even lets you customize these.

Ease of Cleaning

Some tanks are a nightmare to clean. Look for a design that’s accessible. Purever tanks are smooth on the inside, so buildup is minimal.

Warranty & Certification

 sk for warranty. And more importantly, check for ISO certifications or quality compliance. Purever is known for its strict quality checks.

Aesthetics

It’s a tank, yes. But if it’s going on your terrace or visible area, it helps if it looks clean and modern. Purever tanks actually look sharp and minimal.

Final Word

If you're done dealing with stained plastic tanks, murky water, or maintenance nightmares, switching to Purever Stainless Steel Water Tanks is one of those upgrades that quietly makes your life easier. It may not be flashy, but when you’ve got clean, safe water coming out of the tap year after year, you’ll know you made the right choice.

[knightsofeclipse]

I wasn’t gonna read more but my tone feels too accusatory not to. Despite the second person language, this is a first person ramble

Don’t read this…

Sometimes you catch yourself doing something and wonder why. And when you figure out why, you go “that’s kinda silly, isn’t it?”.

Because what you’re doing boils down to looking at your HOBBY as a JOB. Going “I haven’t put anything out to show I’m making progress lately” and scrolling through your notes to see if there’s anything you can hammer out real quick so your boss (the imaginary audience you definitely have) doesn’t fire you for lack of productivity.

You feel guilty for having a million and one first chapters that never made it past there. Ones you’ve never shared because of that stigma against leaving things incomplete. That it’s a mark against you.

Ones no one got excited for because you were afraid of letting them down. If they never see it, they can’t get their hopes up. And you can’t let them down by not living up to expectations.

Ones you were afraid to let yourself get excited about. Ones that were a little weird or different or outside of fandom norms.

The ones that — if you were 10 years less experienced — you wouldn’t be worrying about. The ones where it was just for fun. And it was cool to like different characters. Made playing easier; no one was fighting for their favourite.

<Insert Line Break Here>

I’ve gotten the poetic waxing out of my system. Real talk tho:

I hate when my depression turns my hobby into a job. Fast paced fandom culture of today is not helping but I can’t do anything about that.

I get ideas faster than I can write them down most of the time. Something has to either be recurring or really special to get noted down anymore. There’s just too many. And I spend more time jotting down ideas than expanding on them.

The oneshots I’ve produced this year have been miracles. There have been a couple long fics I’ve started as well but because I don’t have even a first chapter on them I haven’t posted anything about them. Because I’m afraid of losing interest. Was afraid. They’ve been slotted off to WiP-hell with the rest at this point. I’d love to sit and work on a single project on going for any length of time. But I disappear entirely when I do and feel guilty for not posting. The bad depression years put an unsightly gap in my fic history.

I want to be back in writing. I want to get stuck in on a project long enough to have something to show for it. I want to kill the editing brain and just go from brain to post with no stopping to clean it up along the way. Just throw it all out there. (Actually that would kill me. The urge to rewrite everything I’ve posted before this year is so strong)

I just feel this imaginary pressure that I’m letting someone down. If I’m not posting, I’m a freeloader taking and never giving back, wasting time with nothing to show for it. If I do post, it’s such a shame it’s just fanfiction, if only I wasn’t wasting my talents. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

I understand it’s all in my head. That it’s no one’s problem but my own. That I’m not holding anyone else to these standards.

Briefly, I considered posting this privately. And then wondered what was the point in posting at all. Not that I expect anyone to actually read this. I suppose it just holds me accountable to say it with my chest. Publicly.

I’ve long since lost the plot I think. I just wanted to complain in a way that might sound relatable. Not so I may feel less alone in this feeling — I wouldn’t wish it on anyone I don’t want to know there are others who feel like this — but so that others who are feeling low may. Just to empty myself of words quicker than they can refill.

I just want to go back to being a kid. Writing instead of doing schoolwork. I was a slow reader. I spent most of my time reading and writing. I never understood how all my friends had time to do other things as well. I’m just realizing now that they were all just faster readers than me.

I’ve run out of steam…

[cfkcleaners]

Professional Cleaning Service Brampton That Actually Shows Up and Gets the Job Done

Professional cleaning service Brampton might sound like a general term, but when you’re running a commercial kitchen or managing a food-based business, it becomes essential. We learned that the hard way. Long days, grease build-up, weird smells near the vents — you name it. That’s when someone gave us the name Canadian Kitchen Flue Cleaners, and honestly, we haven’t looked back since.

It wasn’t just about getting the place to “look” clean — it was about safety, health, and peace of mind. If you’ve ever had that last-minute panic before an inspection, you know what I mean.

Why Regular Kitchen Cleaning Isn’t Always Enough

You can mop the floors, wipe the counters, and clean the appliances — but that’s just the surface. What goes unnoticed are the ducts, filters, and hoods packed with grease and gunk. That’s where a professional cleaning service Brampton team really earns its place.

We didn’t even realize how bad things had gotten until their crew showed us the buildup in our exhaust system. It wasn’t just dirty — it was a fire hazard. And that was the wake-up call we didn’t know we needed.

Not Just Any Cleaners — They’re the Pros

There’s a reason why Canadian Kitchen Flue Cleaners is continuously referred to as the most reliable professional cleaners Brampton has. They don’t show up with a broom and bucket — instead, they arrive equipped with serious machinery, a trained crew, and a system that is like clockwork.

Tailored for Real Kitchen Schedules

A lot of cleaning services want to book a time that works for them — but in the real world, that’s not how commercial kitchens operate. We need off-hours, early mornings, or sometimes late-night sessions.

The best part about this professional cleaning service Brampton team? They’re flexible. We’ve had them come in before sunrise or after closing, and they’ve never complained or rushed the job. That kind of dependability is rare.

Deep Cleaning That’s More Than Just Elbow Grease

When we say deep clean, we mean it. Their process includes everything: fan blades, ducts, vents, filters, and even the spots we didn’t know needed cleaning. This isn’t your average wipe-down service.

That’s why we tell anyone who asks that they’re the most reliable professional cleaners Brampton has. They’re thorough, and they take pride in making sure everything is up to standard.

They Know Inspections Inside and Out

We used to get anxious every time the health department did their rounds. Not anymore. Since we started regular service with this professional cleaning service Brampton, we’re always ready.

Their team even helps point out what inspectors usually look for, and they clean to that standard without us needing to say anything. That insight alone makes a huge difference.

They Understand How Kitchens Really Work

Working in food service isn’t just busy — it’s chaotic. The fact that these guys understand that is what makes them different from so many other professional cleaners Brampton businesses.

They don’t disrupt service. They don’t get in the way. They plan ahead, set up safely, and work with your layout — not against it. The entire process feels less like an external service and more like an extension of your own team.

Flexible Plans That Make Sense for Your Budget

Another reason we recommend this professional cleaning service Brampton so often? They don’t throw out some crazy quote and expect you to agree. They listen to what you need, offer options, and explain everything before getting started.

Whether it’s a one-time job or a long-term monthly plan, they help you figure out what works best without upselling or pressure. That honesty is refreshing.

Who Else Do They Work With? Just About Everyone

We’ve seen them work with cafés, hotel kitchens, banquet halls — even food courts. If there’s a space where food is being cooked, chances are they’ve cleaned it.

And it’s not just their gear or experience — it’s how they treat each space. They don’t act like one-size-fits-all cleaners. Every job feels personalized. That’s the mark of true professional cleaners Brampton restaurants and businesses can count on.

It’s Not About One Clean — It’s About Ongoing Peace of Mind

Sure, a one-time clean feels great. But keeping it that way? That’s the real challenge. The good news is, they don’t disappear after one visit. They follow up, check in, and keep records to make sure nothing’s missed down the road.

Since we started working with this professional cleaning service Brampton, there’s a level of calm that wasn’t there before. We don’t scramble to prepare — we stay ready.

Support That Sticks With You

You’d think a cleaning team finishes and walks away — but these guys check in, remind you of your next service, and even give friendly advice about simple things your team can do between deep cleans.

That long-term thinking is why we consider them more than cleaners. They’ve become part of our kitchen routine, and a reason our team feels supported and safe.

Here’s the Bottom Line

If you’re running a kitchen in Brampton and you’re tired of patchy cleaning or inconsistent help, just reach out to Canadian Kitchen Flue Cleaners. They’re the kind of professional cleaning service Brampton kitchens need — ones who show up, clean right, and leave things better than they found them.

You’ll quickly see why people are calling them the top professional cleaners Brampton has around.

📞 Call: +14375577111

📍 Visit: https://g.co/kgs/PC5p9Hi

[desertboogierecordneedle]

Q: It's crazy how almost every other country has done away with the corrupt tipping system (especially in places like Japan) and even made it shameful to tip. Why is America one of the only few to still promote this brain washed system?

A: The persistence of tipping in the U.S. is a weird mix of history, economics, and culture that’s dug its heels in deeper than a stubborn mule. Most countries—like Japan, where tipping can be seen as insulting because it implies the worker isn’t paid enough to do their job well—phased it out as they modernized wages and service standards. Europe largely ditched it too, folding service into prices or adding modest, optional fees. But America? We’ve clung to it like it’s some sacred tradition, even though it’s less about generosity and more about systemic quirks.

It started in the post-Civil War era when restaurants and railroads hired newly freed Black workers and didn’t want to pay them proper wages—tips became their lifeline. Employers loved it because it shifted the burden onto customers. Fast forward to the Great Depression, and the practice got cemented: businesses could keep wages low (like the federal tipped minimum wage, still a measly $2.13 an hour in many states) while pretending it’s fine because “tips make up the difference.” Except they don’t always—studies show tipped workers face higher poverty rates and wage theft than non-tipped ones.

Culturally, it’s been spun into this gaslighting narrative of “rewarding good service,” which sounds noble until you realize it’s just subsidizing bad business models. Americans have been conditioned to feel guilty for not tipping, even when service is mediocre or the system’s rigged—servers often pool tips or get taxed on assumed earnings they don’t even make. Meanwhile, countries like Japan built a norm around fair pay and pride in work, no handouts needed. The U.S. could do that too, but the restaurant lobbies got a chokehold on policy—look at how the National Restaurant Association fights tooth and nail against raising the tipped wage.

Why’s it still here? Inertia, cheap labor, and a weird flex of individualism—“I decide what you’re worth!”—that’s somehow patriotic. Plus, people love the illusion of control, even if it’s just tossing a few bucks to mask a broken system. Other nations saw the scam for what it was and moved on. America’s too busy romanticizing the hustle.

[jordanradicalblog]

Radical Blog 2

Okay it’s been a hot minute since I’ve updated this, but here we go.

First, I got my story a lot more patted down. I’ve continued on the mind theme, though I’ve sort of evolved my story into being one that is more about childhood and the fear of growing up. The fear of growing up is something we’ve all felt before and I really want to capture that with this piece. The idea of your cozy childhood being taken away from you and having to contend with the real world is scary.

I spent about a few hours one night with another person in my class named Jora. Together, him and I plotted both of our Radical ideas out. We got a big white board and started writing down as many ideas as we could think of for each of ours and then attempted to streamline them as much as possible. After that I had some time to ruminate on my idea and start putting a script together, which isn’t done but is getting there. It was a very helpful exercise that helped contain a lot of our thoughts.

I’ve been very intimidated by the project and so I’ve been talking a lot with the people within my major who have more experience than me as upper classmen and have been asking them a LOT of questions. I’m trying to take this project day by day, and while it’s a little stressful, I’m trying to be on top of it. I’d like all of pre-production to be done by the end of September. I’ve also been reaching out to a lot of people to get them onto my shoots. It’s been very busy.

I’ve also had a pitch meeting recently and had to do a write up for it. Here is the write up below (the thumbnails might not appear. I have to figure out how to work through that):

Jordan Buterbaugh jab1066@rit.edu

Radical Cinema Workshop

Proposal Worksheet

Working Title: Kiwi

Software, Material, and Technical Needs: General film equipment, sound stage, art/makeup/wardrobe/props, lighting, adobe premiere,

Medium(s): Film, animation

Installation: If I did do an installation, I think it would be viewed in a little pillow fort on a standard screen.

Aesthetic: It will have multiple aesthetics going for it due to the film having different segments. I’d like one segment to be very colorful, light, and poppy as it is mainly in the imagination of a child. I’d like one of the segments to be very dark with a lot of reds used and weird imagery. One of the segments will have a series of random colors and “trippy” images. Finally, there will be a very calming final segment. I’m not sure what it will entail but it will be very soothing and serve as sort of the center of the mind.

Pick a theme(s): I’d like it to mainly be about growing up, with supporting themes like childhood, adulthood, nostalgia, fear, and time

The Written Proposal:

I want to explore the anxieties of growing up through the lense of the human mind. My film will capture the feeling of what it’s like to be a child and realize “I’m growing up.” The moment where your carefree and safe world is being taken away from you and you're forced to contend with the change of the world and how scary it can be. As adults, it’s easy to fall back into the comfort of childhood memories and it can also be depressing to realize we might not ever be able to go back to those comforting safe memories. The world continues to grow and it continues to get scary.

I would like to show this primarily through one character, but at two different ages. One will be a young child version and the other will be the adult version. The child will exist in the realm of imagination. The images will be very storybook-like and colorful. The audience will witness the child playing in a woods like environment. He will be surrounded by animated elements like spaceships and dinosaurs. He will also use his imagination to imagine his life as a lot more crazy than it actually is, like walking across a log over some mud, but having it look like it’s over a massive chasm. To create the crazy environments I plan on overlaying live action elements with digital images, sort of like matte paintings from older days of film. The child will eventually find a mirror in which he will see himself as an adult. The mirror will be the bridge between the adult and child world, in which the adult and child will be able to reflect on themselves through the same lense. 

The adult’s world will be much scarier, with dark visuals and intense imagery. This will be the stark opposite of the child’s world, with trippy imagery as well as graphic gory imagery. It will encapsulate the fear of being alone in the world and the lack of safety and innocence. It will be the dark side of the mind. I have a friend who loves doing gory makeup and is willing to help with this sequence. I also plan on using lots of shadows and red light. As for the psychedelic aspect, I’m not entirely sure yet, but I was thinking of playing around with kaleidoscopes and lights. Most importantly, the images shown will pertain to certain traumatic experiences that happen when people get older. Things relating to concepts like heartbreak and death. It will also reflect how the world seems to get more ugly the older you get, with cruelty found in many places.

As for the end of the film, I want the two characters to embrace each other both physically and metaphorically. They’ll be in the center of the mind, which I think will be a white void. I want the adult to physically hug his younger self and the younger self to embrace his older self. Their worlds will unite, mixing the scary adult world with the child’s world. The adult reconnecting with his younger self and the child embracing his future self. As an ending, I’d love for the two to hold hands and walk into a white light showing that the person is ready to embrace the future.

Moodboard:

Thumbnails:

[stevensaus]

Neurospicy Movie Triple Feature: Asteroid City, No Hard Feelings, And Corner Office

Spoilers for Asteroid City, No Hard Feelings, and Corner Office. I'd already realized the difference between The Big Bang Theory and Community by the time this scene aired: In the midst of an episode, Dean Pelton turns to Abed, who is a character clearly coded as neurodivergent. "Abed, you're ... special," the Dean says. Can't you just stand at the scene of the crime and see what happened?" Abed replies: "I see a man. Using a social disorder as a procedural device. Wait, wait, wait. Mildly autistic super detectives everywhere. Basic cable. Broadcast networks. Pain. Painful writing. It hurts." That was well before I realized that I was at least partially under that umbrella. And it seems like recent movies sure don't want me to forget it. {1} When I told a friend that I'd recently seen Wes Anderson's Asteroid City, he nearly turned up his nose. "I don't like Anderson. I don't get the whimsy." I replied. "I don't think it's whimsical at all. I think it might be neurodivergent." I've since seen a few other folks -- sadly, I lost the links -- comment on this as well. The plot of Asteroid City -- barring one fantastical incident -- is a bog-standard 20th century American "literary" story. Aside from Anderson's distinctive cinematography, the element that makes these films "whimsical" is that everyone says what they are thinking, directly, out loud, in near-monotones. Instead of a flirting wink and half smile, a character might say: "I suddenly find you attractive and would like to take you home tonight." The target of their affections might respond: "I am feeling the pang of loneliness, and hope to find some distraction from my own mortality in the pleasures of the flesh. I accept." Look at the trailer for Asteroid City or The Grand Budapest Hotel. The stylized behavior is demonstrated in both. If you're thinking something like "that sounds a lot like looking at the world through a kind of neurospicy lens," I'm right there with you. But twisting a familiar shape of story through that lens before it gets to me ... well, it's not whimsical. While there are benevolent violations left and right, they do not feel funny to me... just matter of fact. As a result, while I do appreciate the cinematography and style, I really don't know whether or not I enjoyed Asteroid City, or even if I experienced anything like Anderson intended. I stand by what I said about No Hard Feelings, but I want to expand on the footnote I put at the end. Andrew Barth Feldman’s character in No Hard Feelings — who sure came across coded neurospicy to me — adapts pretty suspiciously quickly to being out of his comfort zone in the final third. But I’ll forgive the film that due to the fact that it also does not demand that his character change and conform to "normal" society either. One of the clever things about this film is how it seems to steer right into some really problematic waters, but then quickly end up going in a direction I wasn't expecting. Feldman's character is one of them, a clearly neurospicy kid (and family) who is coaxed into being more "social" by the local hottie. Except that isn't what happens in the film. Lawrence's character might have been the hottie, but she's feeling age, hard living, and the weight of the past. Feldman's likewise sidesteps most -- not all -- of the easy jokes at the expense of the "weird kid." Instead of the tropes of either being rejected or conforming, the characters of both Feldman and Lawrence (who turns in an amazing performance) strike out to make their own ways, on their own terms. They must interact with the world, yes, but they are not defined by other's expectations of them, nor are they willing to put aside their own needs and desires for another's convenience. While Feldman's depiction of neurodivergence plays strongly into the stereotypical autistic traits that used to be called "Asperger's," and the character becomes more social suspiciously quick, I found his portrayal and the script both strongly empathic toward neurodivergence while still acknowledging how silly things can get sometimes. The trailer is NSFW. Which brings us to Corner Office. The film was adapted from The Room by Jonas Karlsson, which we'll come back to in a second. Rob Hamm's character is our neurospicy protagonist, again leaning fairly heavily into the stereotypical traits that keep getting portrayed as the only traits. The plot is fairly simple: Hamm's character arrives at a new job, and works to integrate himself with the strange new office culture. And then he discovers a room, a nicely appointed but unused office that only he can see or experience. But when he's in that office, suddenly everything seems to just work ... better. He's more efficient. His analyses and reports improve dramatically. Still, to everyone else, there is no door to the office, just a blank wall. When Hamm's character is in the office, all that anyone else can see is that he's standing and staring at the wall, practically unresponsive. At one level, it's pretty bog-standard magical realism. At another level, it's an elaborate metaphor for being neurospicy and working in modern office culture alongside allistics. Hamm's character is constantly trying to figure out what everyone else is thinking or doing -- and not-infrequently, getting it wrong. He is bothered by sensory stimuli. He knows that he has skills, and wants to use them. He is not particularly interested in power for power's sake. Arbitrary rules that make no sense are rationalized away. And when things get to be too much, he enjoys being able to get away to a serene place without the buzzing fluorescents and drop ceilings. There, he can collect his thoughts. He is more productive. He feels better after spending some time in this secret office, even if his actions look incomprehensible to the others in the office. Yeah, it's a metaphor for stimming, meltdowns, and shutdowns. It was very uncomfortable for me to watch. Hamm's character -- or at least his inner monologue -- is entirely too close to my own thoughts in the past. I recently saw a TikTok explaining part of why a lot of autistic folx have problems with employment. This is frighteningly close to my own experiences at a prior employer. While that TikTok explains in words what is going on, Corner Office ends up evoking what it felt like. That made the book review of The Room (the book Corner Office came from) all the more disturbing -- and makes the experience of Corner Office all the more necessary. Utterly convinced of his own superiority, is a know-it-all, entirely lacking in self-knowledge: he is the office weirdo, the outsider. “I worked out a personal strategic framework. I arrived half an hour early each morning and followed my own timetable for the day: fifty-five minutes of concentrated work, then a five-minute break. Including toilet breaks. I avoided any unnecessary socialising along the way.” -- Ian Sansom in The Guardian The disdain and derision is palpable. As Mad In America put it back in 2021 (linking to papers in Nature and The Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders: Allistic peers are less likely to interact with autistic people because of immediate and unconscious negative judgments that are based purely on social communication style, and not substance. Autistic people are also often perceived by neurotypicals as deceptive or lacking credibility. After watching Corner Office, Sansom's critique feels as though it is a critique of a neurodivergent protagonist who simply is getting through a strange and confusing environment as best he can. Perhaps the allistics will find Corner Office "whimsical." I hope not. To me, it is a claustrophobic exploration of what it feels like to be neurodivergent and working in the allistic world. I hope that rather than being held up as another Sheldon to mock and belittle, Hamm's portrayal will help some grok what it's like for us. {1} I'm still on that journey, figuring out what labels and terms are useful and which ones should be discarded. So -- along with the truism that if you've met one neurospicy person, you've met one neurospicy person -- these impressions are wholly mine and shouldn't be mistaken as if I'm speaking for any neurodivergent community. Read the full article

[mandos-mind-trick]

Here's To The Future - Part 4: Rampage

Summary: The war’s over. That should be cause for celebration, except the wrong side won. Things begin to change quickly, and it doesn’t take long for Midnight to realize something’s not right among the clone army. She should be glad the war is over, but the threat of her losing her boys is all too real. She did swear she would do everything she could to keep them from being separated when the war ended.

She’s not going to give up on that promise. Even if it kills her.

Pairing: The Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

Warnings: Some violence, mentions of slavery, a brief mention of blood and injuries.

A/N: Takes place during episode 5. Not much plot wise, mostly just a filler to get to the next part which will be sort of the build up to the climax of the story. Also an excuse to have Midnight and Omega interact a bit more.

Also I am still looking for a beta reader for this one, so if you’re interested…

< Previous | Next > | SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“But she looks so peaceful! I don’t want to wake her up!” 

“She’s been asleep almost sixteen standard hours. While she likely needs the rest to catch up on her missed sleep, oversleeping any more may inhibit her cognitive abilities, awareness, reaction time-” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever that means. I’ll wake her up.” 

She’s already mostly awake by the time large, calloused fingers trail along her cheek. Though the noise in the ship isn’t anything new, it was usually dampened by her door. It’s a lot louder in the bunks with nothing but a privacy curtain to keep the sound out. Sure her room is now uninhabited, but she can’t bring herself to leave Crosshair’s bunk yet. Not while it still smells like him. 

“It’s time to get up, cyare.” Wrecker says softly, a vast contrast to his previous volume. 

She leans into his touch, groaning quietly. “Five more minutes.” 

“Tech says you have to get up.” Wrecker counters, gently stroking her cheek. “Something about cognitive whatever.” 

“He’s not my mom.” She pouts. “Lemme sleep till we land.” 

“We have landed.” Tech says, appearing next to Wrecker. 

“What?” Midnight sits straight up, narrowly avoiding smacking her head on the top of the bunk. “When? Where”

“We landed moments ago on Ord Mantell. We’re investigating the contact Echo knows about.” Tech says, offering a hand. 

Midnight ignores it, sliding out of the bunk with a groan. Wrecker catches her easily, keeping her from falling face first onto the floor. She rubs her eyes, trying to blink life back into her body. “How long was I asleep?” 

“Sixteen standard hours.” Tech answers. “Though you have caught up on some missed sleep, by my calculations you need at least five days of nonstop sleep to recover completely.” 

Midnight blinks at him, her sleep drowsy brain trying to process his words. Had he been keeping track of how much she was sleeping? It’s not that unusual for him, he knew the ins and outs of every member of the squad down to weird little habits they didn’t even notice. The fact that he was paying so much attention to her is touching. 

“Aw, Tech,” She wraps her arms around him, resting her cheek on the hard plastoid of his chestplate. “You’re so sweet. But I need a lot more than that to make up for a lifetime of poor sleep.” 

“Hmm.” Tech adjusts his goggles. “Well, I’ll have to do more calculations...” 

Midnight stands on her toes, kissing his cheek. “You do that, my sweet nerd.” 

She makes to walk away, but a disappointed groan stops her. She turns back around, finding Wrecker standing there with a pout. “Well, what about me?” He asks. 

“I can’t forget you, Wrecker!” She grins, stepping up to him. She stands up on her toes, cupping his face. She traces the scar on his cheek for a moment before she pulls him down, pressing her lips to his in a sweet kiss. 

“Better?” She asks, pulling away. 

He nods, sneaking back in for another kiss. “Better.” 

****

Ord Mantell city reminds her a bit of home. Or, at least this part of it does. It’s brighter than the lower levels of Coruscant, and a lot cleaner, but if she hadn’t known better, she would have assumed they’d returned to Coruscant. 

Despite their missing member, Midnight takes the spot in the middle between Tech and Echo once more. It’s still natural for them, even after all this time. 

Omega walks in front with Hunter, their leader grilling her a bit on the rules he had laid out since their last mishap. 

“Remember the rules?” Hunter asks Omega.

“Don’t wander off, keep my eyes and ears on my surroundings, and trust no one but my squad.” Omega says. 

“And if you get into trouble?” Echo asks. 

“Use my comm and give my location.” Omega says confidently. 

They make their way down an alley, Echo taking the lead. 

“This is the place.” He says, stopping at a flight of stairs leading down to the entrance of a bar. 

“Charming.” Tech snarks.

“I’ve seen worse.” Midnight shrugs, following them down the steps. 

The bar is dimly lit, and mostly empty aside from an Ithorian and a Weequay arguing over a gambling table, and a Trandoshan. 

“Which one of them is Cid?” Hunter asks Echo. 

“I couldn’t tell ya.” Echo answers. “I only heard about Cid. Never actually met him.” 

“That would have been information to share earlier.” Tech says. 

Hunter approaches the Trandoshan. “We’re looking for Cid. You know him?” 

“Cid, huh?” The Trandoshan says. “Nope. Doesn't ring a bell.” 

“What about them?” Hunter nods at the other two who were now getting into a physical fight over whatever they were arguing about. 

“Was I not clear? You’re in the wrong place.” The Trandoshan taps Hunter with the wrench in her hand. “So unless you’re here to spend money, get lost.” 

“Great plan, Echo.” Wrecker says. 

Midnight watches the Trandoshan sit at the bar, narrowing her eyes. She moves closer, leaning up against the bar. Omega plays with the buttons on one of the dejarik tables as the others argue. 

“You know, it’s a bit odd.” Midnight says. “This place is called Cid’s. So unless that name was picked at random...” 

“You’re Cid.” Omega finishes for her, stepping up closer to them. 

The Trandoshan turns, crossing her arms. “You’re both sharper than your friends over there.” 

Omega activates her comm, the sound echoing in the close quarters. “I found Cid.” 

The other four turn to look, Midnight leaning against the bar with a smirk on her face, Omega pointing up at the Trandoshan behind her. 

***

“I had a good thing going with the Jedi.” Cid says as she leads them into her office. “They valued my insights. But now that they’re all dead, the demand for my services has declined. Thanks to this new Empire.” 

Midnight leans against the wall near the door, the others looking around Cid’s office. 

“Times have changed...for all of us.” Hunter says.

“No kidding. I never had clone deserters come to me before.” 

“Yes, well, we separated due to a fundamental difference in ideology.” Tech says. 

“That’s cute, you thinking I care.” Cid cuts him off. “Cut to it and tell me what you want.” 

Echo plugs himself into the scomp, bringing up an image of the bounty hunter. 

“We encountered this woman on Pantora.” Hunter says. “Do you know who she is?” 

“No.” Cid shakes her head, staring at the holo of the woman. “But I know a bounty hunter when I see one.” 

“Can you find out who hired her?” Echo asks.

“That depends on what you boys do for me.” Cid says. 

Hunter and Tech share a look, Midnight rolling her eyes. They were still very new at this.

“Are you fresh outta the tube? You pull a job for me, and I get the information you want. That’s how this mercenary thing works.” 

“Mercenary?” Echo asks. 

“Not too quick, are ya?” Cid asks, moving behind her desk. “Clearly the kid and cover girl back there are the brains of your operation.” 

“What kind of job?” Hunter sighs, asking exasperatedly. 

“A rescue.” Cid says, sinking into her chair as they move closer. “There’s a nice bounty on a kid named Muchi. My sources say she was taken by Zygerrian slavers who are holed up on the other side of the planet. Bring me the kid and I’ll get you your intel.” 

“Well, who collects the bounty?” Wrecker asks. 

“Oh look, it talks. We split the bounty 70-30, my favor. Take it or leave it.” 

“Grab a kid from a few Zygerrians?” Wrecker says, moving towards the door. “We can do that in our sleep.” 

“Looks like we have a deal.” Cid says, tossing the puck to Hunter as the others file out. “Details of the bounty are on that. Don’t screw it up.” 

****

“What do you think?” Hunter asks as she leans up against the side of the pilot’s seat. 

Midnight shrugs. “I don’t trust anyone. But, if she can make good on getting this information, she might be useful to have around.” 

“And if she can provide us a way to make credits...” 

Midnight sighs. “We don’t have to-” 

“Keep your credits.” Hunter cuts her off, already knowing where this is headed. 

“Why?” She presses. “I have more than enough.” 

“I want you to keep them.” Hunter says, his tone telling her he’s done arguing this point. 

Wrecker groans, clutching at his head, really finishing the conversation for them. Midnight moves to the empty seat, plopping herself down. 

“You all right?” Hunter asks Wrecker, watching him. 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing.” Wrecker nods, getting up from the copilot’s seat, leaving the cockpit. 

“According to Cid’s intel, the Zygerrian slave traders are hiding in the ruins of Old Ord Mantell city.” Tech says as Echo and Omega enter the cockpit. 

“What’s a slave trader?” Omega asks, taking Wrecker’s abandoned seat. 

“Someone who buys and sells people for credits.” Tech explains nonchalantly. 

“People can be sold?” Omega asks in surprise. 

“They don’t have a choice.” Echo says. “They’re captives treated like property.” 

“That...doesn’t seem right.” 

“It’s not. And we are going to stop it from happening to that kid.” Echo says. 

“As well as earn a decent amount of credits once the job is complete.” Tech interjects. 

“Yeah, that too.” Echo says before exiting the cockpit. 

“Don’t worry, Muchi. We’ll rescue you.” Omega says, holding her trooper doll. 

They land a distance away from the city, making their way to an overlooking cliff. Sure enough, there’s a ship sitting in the city, and several Zygerrians roaming around. Omega, Tech, and Wrecker scan the city with binocs, looking for the captives. 

“I have a visual.” Tech says. “I only see one child.” 

“Poor Muchi. She looks scared.” Omega says. 

“I’m clocking two dozen hostels.” Tech continues. “Multiple entry points with minor fortification.” 

“Simple smash and grab like that time on Kuat.” Wrecker says. “Easy enough.” 

“I’m in.” Omega says. “What are we waiting for?” She makes to move forward, but Hunter stops her. 

“You get back to the ship.” He orders her.

“But-” 

“That’s an order.” 

They leave Omega behind, sneaking their way down into the city. Tech leads the way, all of them careful not to make too much noise. 

“Echo, you’re the eyes in the sky.” Hunter says as they stop. “Wrecker, Midinght, draw the Zygerrian forces out. Tech and I will grab the kid.” 

“Not a problem.” Wrecker says. 

They move further into the city, waiting for Echo to get into place. 

“Echo, sitrep.” Hunter asks, ducking behind a piece of rubble. 

“Two roving patrols on speeders. First guard checkpoint dead ahead.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Hang on. I think I’ve got company.” 

“Well, take care of it. Quietly.” Hunter says. 

There’s a yell and Echo falls from the building, hitting the ground with a thud. A Brezak flies out of the sky, narrowly hitting them. It lands, hitting Wrecker with its tail, throwing him into a rock. Tech, Hunter and Midnight fire at the Brezak, but it flies off. They find themselves surrounded by Zygerrians, one of them firing an electric net at them, knocking them unconscious. 

***

Midnight leans against the fountain, glaring down one of the Zygerrian guards. He’d been the one to chain her up, being a little too touchy for her liking. Once they get free, she’s going to smash his head in. Her arms are cuffed behind her, the position not exactly comfortable. She supposes it could be worse, though. 

“It’s getting looser.” Wrecker says, tugging at his collar, trying to get it off discreetly. 

His body suddenly jerks, being electrocuted by his collar. 

“Do that one more time and you’ll be-” Echo is cut off in his threat by his own collar electrocuting him. 

“Save your energy.” Tech says from next to her. “We are going to need it.” 

The Brezak that had attacked them flies overhead, landing on one of the tallest buildings. Midnight can just make out a figure standing at the top, looking down at them. That must be their leader. 

The Brezak roars, the three people that had been there before shrinking back in fear, the child whimpering. 

“Relax, Muchi.” Wrecker says. “We’re the cavalry.” 

“What are our odds out of this, Tech?” Hunter asks. 

“I am not certain.” He replies. 

“So much for being smart.” Wrecker snarks. 

Tech sighs. “This is not a standard military operation, and seeing as how we’ve never been tasked with rescuing a child from slave traders before, there’s no data I can compare it to.” 

“We need to signal Omega before their scouts find her.” Hunter says. 

“Except our comms are over there with our weapons.” Echo says, nodding at their pile of gear. 

Tech looks up, eyes widening before he turns back to Hunter. “We won’t need a comm to signal her.” 

Hunter turns, looking up at the roof of a building. Midnight glances over, seeing Omega there. 

The door to the building slides open, the lead Zygerrian coming through. Midnight hates him immediately upon first sight. He walks with his hands behind his back, holding himself upright with an air of arrogance and self importance. He reminds her a bit of Admiral Tarkin. 

“Look at what we have here.” He says, walking closer to them. “Five new slaves to add to my collection. “Strong ones too. You should fetch a nice price.” He steps in front of Midnight, grasping her chin in his hand. His grip is tight, his claws threatening to break her skin. “This one especially.” He smirks at her. 

She’s not sure what possesses her, but she leans her head back, spitting right in his face. He releases her, wiping it off of his fur before rearing back and slapping her. Her head snaps to the side, her cheek burning. The others shift, rattling the chains. Midnight turns back to face him, glaring at him. She can feel the slow ooze of liquid sliding down her face. He’s caught her with his claws. 

“You’re going to regret that.” She says, as threateningly as she can. 

He smirks, chuckling. “Even the most defiant of slaves can be broken.” 

“The Republic outlawed slavery.” Echo says angrily, trying to draw his attention from her. 

“We’re not in the Republic anymore, skug.” He says, turning and walking away. 

“You’re lucky we don’t have our gear, because this would go very differently for you.” Echo says, trying to direct Omega discreetly. 

Midnight shifts slightly, wiping some of the oozing blood onto her armor. It would be easier to clean off that than if it gets into her clothes. 

“Are you alright?” Tech asks her quietly. 

Midnight rolls her eyes. “I’ve been hit by men before, Tech.” She turns to look at him, the look on his face cutting off her breath. 

His brows are furrowed behind his goggles, eyes narrowed. There’s a dark look on his face, his eyes full of anger. She’s never seen him look like this before. At least, not up close. 

Something falls off to their left, drawing everyone’s attention. Omega must have knocked something loose in her attempt to get down to them. A couple guards begin walking in that direction, but Wrecker kicks a rock, knocking the feet out from under a guard. Midnight bites back a laugh, but is quickly sobered as another guard ignites his electro-whip, whipping Wrecker with it. 

“We can make do with one less slave.” The leader says, turning back to them. “Maybe I’ll feed you to my pet.” The Brezak roars in response. “As for the rest of you, you will be part of a new beginning. With the meddling Republic gone, we can return to Kadavo and rebuild what was taken from us. Under this new Empire, our operation will flourish once again. And if you do not comply... the person next to you will pay the price.” 

Midnight resists the urge to roll her eyes. She hates monologues, especially given by assholes who think too highly of themselves. Thankfully the leader is distracted by something, one of the guards carrying over a struggling Omega. 

“I found her sneaking around the cage.” The guard says. 

“I wasn’t sneaking.” Omega says. “I was unlocking.” She holds up a bolt. 

The large cage begins shaking as something snarls inside. The Zygerrians run to try and close it back up, but the doors fly open, a rancor bursting out. The Zygerrians fire at the Rancor, but only succeed in making it angrier. 

“A rampaging adolescent rancor is not the distraction I was anticipating.” Tech says. 

“That’s their problem.” Wrecker says, bracing himself against the fountain. “We’re getting out of here.” He snaps the chain holding all of them in place. 

Echo works on removing their bonds, Omega coming up to the child. 

“It’s okay, Muchi. We’re here to take you home.” She says. 

The older Falleen points at the Rancor, speaking in Falleen, but none of them need to understand to know what he’s saying.

“The rancor is Muchi?” Echo asks. 

The others grab their gear and weapons, Hunter tossing Echo his as the rancor runs through the city, tossing Zygerrians as it goes.

“Gear up. We have to go after Muchi.” He says. “If we don’t capture her, we don’t get our intel from Cid.” 

They follow Hunter who tracks the Rancor, running through the city. The other captives follow, barely managing to keep up as they stop for a moment. 

“What about them?” Omega asks, motioning to the Falleen and the human. 

“Omega and I will get them to safety. You find Muchi.” Echo says. 

“Right. Go for the speeders at the south entrance.” Hunter says. 

Tech translates for them as they head off in their own direction. The others follow the path of bodies, finding Muchi surrounded, but easily taking out the Zygerrians. 

“She’s doing fine on her own.” Wrecker says, impressed. 

Midnight is impressed as well, silently cheering as the rancor takes out Zygerrian after Zygerrian. That excitement quickly ends, though, as Muchi turns on them, having taken care of the rest of the Zygerrians. 

Of course. How exactly were they going to convince a rancor they’re the good guys? 

Wrecker and Tech draw their weapons, but Hunter quickly puts his arms out to stop them. They need Muchi alive, and as unharmed as possible. 

A roar sounds behind them, the brezak swooping out of the sky with the Zygerrian leader on its back. They turn and fire, barely missing getting taken out by it as it lands. The brezak turns on Muchi, the Zygerrian lifting his electro-whip, but Hunter tackles him off the brezak before he can hurt Muchi. 

Muchi turns and runs, the brezak following after her. 

“You’re going to pay for this, skug.” The leader says to Hunter. 

“I’ll handle him.” Hunter says as Wrecker, Tech, and Midnight run up to him. “Go get Muchi.”

They run after the rancor, following the sound of the fight between the brezak and the rancor. Muchi must have won as the brezak flies off, leaving them facing down the angry rancor.

“Any ideas how to stop that thing?” Wrecker asks Tech. 

Tech pulls out his datapad, typing away. “Rancors adhere to a social hierarchy. You have to challenge the alpha for authority.” 

“Oh that I can do.” Wrecker says, tossing his blaster aside before he runs at Muchi. 

Tech and Midnight watch as Wrecker and Muchi fight, beating the piss out of each other. Hunter joins them soon after, watching as they begin to slow down, getting tired. 

Echo rides up on a scooter with Omega, Wrecker and Muchi barely swinging at each other now. 

“How long’s he been at this?” Echo asks as they hop off the scooter. 

“Too long.” Tech answers. “He’s losing his touch.” 

They weakly swing at each other one more time before Muchi flops on her side, falling asleep. Wrecker leans against her, gently patting her head. 

“Aw. She’s kinda cute up close.” Omega says, stepping up closer. 

“Nicely handled, Wrecker.” Hunter says. 

Wrecker grunts indistinctly, giving him a thumb’s up. He’s going to sleep really well tonight. 

***

They eventually get Muchi and Wrecker roused again, transporting them back to the city. Omega rides happily on Muchi’s back as they make their way towards Cid’s. 

“Aw. That’s a good rancor.” Wrecker says, patting Muchi’s head. 

A male Twi’lek comes out of Cid’s, approaching Muchi happily. He speaks to Muchi in Huttese, hugging her face. Cid pushes past the two Gamorrean guards, looking at Hunter in disbelief for a moment. 

“See, Bib? All is well.” She says. “Now, about the matter of payment.” The Twi’lek snaps at one of the Gamorreans and he hands over some credits. 

Omega slides off the rancor, the Twi’lek and Gamorreans leading Muchi away. 

“Bye, Muchi.” Wrecker says. 

Muchi turns, roaring happily at them. 

“Gotta say, fellas.” Cid says. “I wasn’t sure you could pull this job off.” 

“You could have told us we were going after a rancor.” Echo says. 

“Hmm. Must have slipped my mind.” Cid says. She points at Hunter. “You, dark and broody. My office.” 

Tech turns on Midnight as Hunter makes his way into the bar with Cid. He tilts her head back, looking at the scratch marks on her cheek. They’ve stopped bleeding, but the skin is still burning. 

“They’re not very deep.” He says, studying them. “But they need to be cleaned.” 

“I’m fine.” She says, trying to push his hands away. “What’s the worst that could happen? My skin falls off?” 

“Yes.” Tech deadpans. 

Midnight gives him a horrified look. “Okay. When we get back to the ship you can clean them.” 

“Good.” He takes her face again, poking at the cuts. “They shouldn’t scar. It doesn't appear to have broken too deeply into the dermis. Bacta should clear them up rather quickly.” 

Midnight tries to bat his hand away, but he’s insistent on poking her face. 

“Do they hurt?” Hunter asks, appearing out of nowhere as he steps up to her. 

“They do when someone’s touching them.” She tries to push Tech’s hand away, but he’s insistent. 

Something comes over Hunter’s face as he stares at her, his eyes hardening and the look darkening. She looks up at Tech, finding a similar look behind his goggles. She looks past Tech at Echo, his eyes narrowed. 

“Oh.” She says lamely, letting her hands drop to her sides. 

“I hope you gave him what he deserved.” Wrecker says, stepping closer. 

“I did.” Hunter says, his voice dark. “Come on.” He puts a hand on her back. “Let’s get back to the ship.” 

***

Midnight changes clothes, stretching out her limbs now that they’re free of the armor. Her skin itches a bit, the bacta gel having absorbed quickly after Tech applied it. The cuts are already healing, hardly more than raised bumps. By tonight, there’d be no sign of them even being there. 

She had protested the use of bacta on them, seeing as how they weren’t that bad and they’d probably heal well on their own, but after seeing the looks on their faces, she had quickly given up. She hasn’t seen them that protective in a long time. 

It makes sense, though. 

They’re entirely on their own now. They don’t have the GAR to fall back on. If something happens to one of them, they only have each other to fix it.

She slips some credits into her bag before tossing it over her shoulder. She leaves her room, making her way towards the ramp. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hunter asks, stepping in her way. 

“Supply run.” She answers simply. 

“By yourself?” 

She gives him a look. “Uh, yeah. That was the plan.” 

“You’re going to wander around an unknown city by yourself.” Hunter lifts an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “We need to stock up on some things.” 

“She is right.” Tech says, stepping up behind her. “We are running low on medical supplies, as well as hygiene products.”

“Not that any of you use them.” She murmurs. “Plus if we’re going to be spending time here, I’d like to get to know the city a bit better.” 

“Let one of us go.” Hunter says. 

“Uh, no.” Midnight says, Hunter giving her a taken-aback look at her outward defiance. “I’m going. I am the least recognizable of all of us.” 

“She has a point.” Tech says from behind her. 

Hunter stares at her for a moment before his shoulders slump and he sighs. “Don’t wander too long.” 

“Can I go?” Omega asks, all of them turning to look at her.

Midnight looks to Hunter, shrugging. Hunter looks down at Omega before sighing. “Fine. But stick close to Midnight and don’t wander-” 

“Keep a close eye on my surroundings and trust no one but my squad. And I’ll use my comm and give my location if I get into trouble, I know.” She says. 

“Quick learner.” Midnight smirks. 

“Be careful.” Hunter says, wrapping an arm around Midnight’s waist. 

“Usually am.” She murmurs as he leans down, kissing her softly. 

“Keep an eye on her.” He murmurs, kissing her again. 

“Two eyes.” Midnight says. “Don’t worry. Think of this as a learning opportunity.” 

She kisses Hunter one more time before slipping past him and heading for the ramp. She heads down the steps, Omega skipping happily after her. 

“What was that you were doing?” She asks before they even make it out of the landing bay. 

“What was what?” Midnight asks. 

“You and Hunter. I saw you and Wrecker doing it earlier too.” She says. 

“Oh.” Midnight blinks, trying to figure out how to explain it. “We were kissing.” 

“What’s that?” 

Midnight lets out a long breath. “Well, it’s something you do when you love someone. It’s one way to show it.” 

“Oh.” She says, going quiet for a moment. “What’s love?” 

Midnight laughs. “That’s a complex conversation for another time.” Midnight puts a hand on Omega’s shoulder, stopping her at an intersection. “Keep close. Don’t stare at anyone too long, and try not to make eye contact. We’re trying to be discreet.” 

Omega nods. “Right.” 

Midnight pats her shoulder. “Come on. This way.” 

She leads Omega down a street, walking slowly as she looks up at the sky. It’s visible between the buildings, starting to go yellow with the setting sun. Midnight smiles softly, dropping her gaze back to the street in front of her. “Reminds me a bit of home.” She says, skirting around a drunk weequay on the street. 

“Where are you from?” Omega asks, looking up at her. 

“I’m from Coruscant. Born and raised there.” 

“Is it a nice place?” Omega asks. 

Midnight laughs. “Well, depends on how you look at it. The entire planet is one big city.” 

“Wow.” Omega breathes. “There must be a lot of people there.” 

Midnight nods. “Close to three trillion, it’s estimated. Though, most of them are very poor and live in the lower levels. There’s lots of crime down there, since the police can’t and don’t bother to help. I grew up so far down, I didn’t see the sky until I joined the GAR. Spent my whole life in artificial sunlight. I’d never seen dirt or a real tree until I got off Coruscant, either.” 

“You’re like me.” Omega says. “I spent my whole life in a lab on Kamino. I didn’t get to wander often. I didn’t really want to, either.” 

Midnight snorts. “I don’t blame you. Some of those regs had some nasty attitudes.” 

“Yeah they did.” She laughs. 

They walk in silence for a few moments. “How did you know about me? When you approached us on Kamino, you knew my name.” 

“Well, you’re sort of famous.” Omega says sheepishly. 

“I am?” Midnight asks in disbelief. 

“Yeah. You’re a member of Clone Force 99 and you’re not a clone.” Omega shrugs. “They talked about you all the time. Tarkin asked about you too.” 

Midnight grimaces. “I’m sure he did. He really wanted me to join his squad.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Omega says. “They really care about you a lot.” 

Midnight nods. “Well, we’ve been through a lot together.” She nods. “I care a lot about them too.” She nudges Omega gently. “And you.” 

“Me?” She asks in disbelief. 

Midnight nods. “Of course. You’re part of the squad too.” 

Omega smiles. “I’ve never had a sister before.” 

Midnight blinks in surprise. Of course, the boys would technically be her brothers, as they were all clones. Even though Midnight’s not a clone, she had integrated herself into the squad rather successfully it seemed, to the point Omega had known who she was. 

“I haven’t had one either.” She says, slowing as they reach the shop selling medical supplies. 

She leads Omega inside, making quick work of grabbing what they need. They head on to the next store, picking up more personal items and some hygiene products, not that the guys would use them regularly. 

“We should get some food.” Midnight says as they pass by a few food vendors. “I know the guys have to be hungry.” 

Omega stares wide eyed at all the choices. “These look so much better than rations.” 

Midnight smiles. “They are.” She wraps an arm around Omega’s shoulders, leading her towards one of the stalls. “Maybe someday we’ll get to eat food like this all the time.”  

“Really?” Omega asks, blinking up at her. 

Midnight nods. “Someday when we can put this bounty hunter business behind us and find somewhere nice to settle down.” 

“That sounds fantastic.” Omega says dreamily. 

Midnight nods. “It does. It really does.” 

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