#ldow

[garlictoast]

It Takes Two

i hate this title but cannot think of anything better for the life of me.

day 6 of @lastdaysofwar! baby boy finally makes an appearance. it's actually criminal how little i write chuck.

The day of the PPDC’s annual ceremonial dinner, Chuck sulks for the better part of the day, taking the annoyance with him from his room, to the mess hall, to Kwoon. Raleigh must notice Chuck’s less than grand mood as he stops mid sparring session, arms folded over his chest.

“What?” He asks simply.

“‘What’ yourself, Becket,” Chuck retorts, dropping out of his ready position. “Why’d you stop?”

“You’re in a bad mood.”

Chuck snorts. “So? I fight better.”

“No, you don’t. You easily could’ve blocked my last three hits. You’re distracted.”

“You stopped in the middle of the fight.”

Raleigh raises one eyebrow. Chuck sighs but doesn’t yield. The two stand in silence for a long minute, unmoving, both determined to wait out the other’s patience. Or stubbornness, depending on who you ask. Finally, Chuck sighs, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not looking forward to wearing dress blues tonight, okay?” he snaps.

Raleigh stares at him, his stupid face breaking out into a mocking grin. “Are you serious, Chuck? Dressing up is what has you so put off? It’s just a dinner party.” He’s right, of course, but Chuck isn’t going to give him the pleasure. Every year, the PPDC hosts the same event, where a bunch of stuffy, uptight officials lurk around the rangers and pretend they know what it’s like to fight Kaiju.

Chuck waves him off, moving back into a ready stance. “Don’t patronize me, Ray. Pick up the stick and fight me already.” Raleigh’s still grinning as he matches Chuck’s stance. Chuck scowls at the other ranger’s stupid face, pushing his ire into their sparring session instead.

That evening, Chuck tugs on his ties with deft hands. He refuses to perceive himself in the mirror, dutifully keeping his eyes only on the thin fabric between his fingers. He doesn’t necessarily hate the uniform; they’re boring, if anything. No different from regular military dress. The problem is the event.

Chuck doesn’t see himself as a dress-up type. He’s not a hero, and not some desk jockey who has this one thing to look forward to every year. He hates being shown off like some show pony, dragged around by directors and board members, judged by the way he acts, the way he looks, the way he talks. (Though, the way he looks, isn’t as much a problem.) There is, inevitably, some group of old vets who compare getting body slammed by 3,000 tons of alien to sleeping in the mud for three days. Not to mention, the suits are damn stuffy, and the room is always too hot. Chuck yanks the end of the tie through the knot, giving it a sharp tug before finally stepping back.

Yeah, the looks are definitely not the problem. He drags a comb through his hair—the most he’s willing to do with it—before tossing the comb aside and leaving his room, his jacket slung over one shoulder. He steps into the hall at the same time as Raleigh, the two rangers pausing to take each other in. Raleigh’s not fully dressed yet, with his tie looped limply around his neck and jacket missing, but Chuck thinks the Gipsy pilot has never looked better.

“Have you seen Mako?” Raleigh asks before Chuck can come up with anything clever to say.

“Well, she’s not in my room, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Raleigh frowns at him. “Never mind.” He starts to walk away, and something possesses Chuck to go after him.

“C’mon, Ray, you can’t give me shit for being annoyed about playing dress-up when you don’t even bother to finish the look. Go tie your tie and get your jacket, then we can find Mako together.”

Raleigh glances sideways at him, the frown still pinching at the corners of his mouth. The guy’s gonna have some serious frown lines someday, Chuck thinks. “I need to find Mako first.”

“What, you need her to tie your tie?” Chuck jokes, punching Raleigh playfully in the shoulder.

Raleigh doesn’t laugh, though. He actually stops walking, gaze flicking to one side, then downwards, as he tries to avoid eye contact. Finally, he sighs, staring Chuck down with those seriously blue baby-blues.

Chuck’s playful grin slowly morphs into one of disbelief. “You can’t be serious, mate.”

Raleigh only sighs, shifting his weight.

“Raleigh. You can’t tie a tie?” Chuck doesn’t fail to recognize the irony of the situation. Raleigh gives him shit for not wanting to dress up, and the man can’t even do it himself.

It’s Raleigh’s turn to be annoyed as he turns on his heel, back towards his room. “I just never learned, okay?”

“You never—hey, hold on—” Chuck has to jog to catch up to him, blocking Raleigh’s door with one arm. Raleigh gives him the most withering look he’s ever received from anyone who wasn’t Herc. “I need to know how the great Raleigh Becket does, what, five years? In the PPDC, and never learned how to tie a damn tie.”

“Get out of my way, Chuck.” Raleigh shoves him aside, pushing the door open. To his credit, he doesn’t slam it in Chuck’s face. Chuck trails into the room after him, blocking the exit as Raleigh grabs his jacket from it’s hanger. The two rangers face off for the second time that day, though this time, Chuck is the one with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s not letting up this time, either. He holds Raleigh’s stare, one eyebrow raised in a mock of the other ranger, until Raleigh finally caves. “It’s just—Yancy always tied it for me.”

Chuck, for once in his life, doesn’t have anything to say. Instead, he steps forward, hardly registering he’s moving until he has Raleigh backed up against to wall. The older ranger doesn’t protest, only watching carefully as Chuck tosses his own jacket onto Raleigh’s bed before reaching out to the other man’s chest.

“I had to teach myself how to tie a tie,” Chuck says quietly as he takes to two ends of Raleigh’s tie, looping the thicker end over the other. “Growing up, just me and Dad, I was home alone more often than not.” He loops it over again. “There were a lot of times I had to get dressed up on my own. Proms, weddings, funerals, PPDC bullshit. I’m sure Dad would’ve done it for me, if he could’ve been there.” He doesn’t mention how much he hated it then, putting on a suit. Always has. Always will. Always a reminder of how much he was alone as a kid. “Maybe I can teach you sometime.” He tucks the end through the knot, pulling it snug. He pats Raleigh’s chest before stepping back, admiring his handiwork.

Raleigh stares down at his tie, then at Chuck, as if he’s just witnessed some weird, convoluted magic trick. Chuck turns away quickly to hide the blush he can feel crawling up his neck, grabbing his jacket off Raleigh’s bed.

“Put your jacket on, Ray. Pentecost will kill us if we’re late.”

Raleigh obeys—something Chuck vaguely thinks he could get used to—slipping his jacket over his shoulders, buttoning it snuggly across his front. Chuck grins, pulling on his own jacket before taking Raleigh by the shoulders, twirling him to face the mirror. The two blonds stare back at each other, looking almost identical in their dress blues.

“Well, don’t we make a pretty picture,” Chuck says, only half joking.

For once, Raleigh smiles.

[mistyfur5]

Dogtags

This is my FIRST entry for the @lastdaysofwar event featuring a very cute scene I somehow created in the span of 2-3 hours while stuck at work. I hope you enjoy!!!

Summary: Raleigh has been thinking about giving Chuck one of his dogtags for awhile now. However, when he finally gets around to actually doing it, he gets more than what he bargained for. He can't say he's complaining, though.

DOGTAGS

APRIL 4TH, 2026

SYDNEY SHATTERDOME

“What’s this?” Chuck asks, staring down at the small rectangle of metal encased in a rubber silencer sitting in his palm.

They’re standing just outside the mess hall after lunch, and their friends have long since gone on ahead to get started on Jaeger reconstruction projects in the Main Bay. Raleigh had only stopped Chuck from joining them because he had something he needed to say first.

“It’s one of my tags. I wanted you to have it,” Raleigh responds, sounding as if the reason is obvious. He’s thought about this for a long while, and he knows it’s unconventional (even partially frowned upon as these tags are meant for identification purposes), but that doesn’t stop him from wanting Chuck to have a piece of his person on him at all times. 

“But why?” Chuck asks, a puzzled look in his eye as he raises them to meet Raleigh’s. 

Why, indeed? Raleigh doesn’t quite know the answer himself. Maybe it was because he wanted there to be confusion over which half of the partnership he belonged to when he was no longer around to voice it himself. Maybe he wanted their identities to be so intertwined with one another that one could not be mentioned without the other following closely behind. Maybe he wanted to share a piece of his soul, their unbreakable bond together, in tangible proof.

No matter the reason, he knew he wanted Chuck to have his tag, and he wanted to wear one of Chuck’s too, should the man be willing to offer it. 

“Because it’s a promise. I know it’s not like offering a ring, but I want to show you that I’m committed to this. That I want this to last; not just now, but for the rest of our lives. I want to be with you through the best and worst years of our lives and still stick around for more. I love you Chuck, and I want to spend my life with you,” Raleigh says, his voice thick with an emotion he can’t quite recognize in the moment, but will later realize is devotion. 

Before him, Chuck remains silent, eyes widened in surprise and his mouth slightly parted as if he wants to speak, but can’t find the words. Eventually, he does manage to gather himself but his words are not something Raleigh expects. 

“Are you asking me to marry you?” Chuck asks, each word carefully articulated as if one wrong syllable will skew the whole meaning of the question. 

It’s Raleigh’s turn to freeze up, but he’s able to shrug it off quickly, moving a hand up to rub at the back of his neck as an awkward feeling takes over. “Well, that wasn’t the plan going into this, but yeah. I guess I am,” he states, the weight of his request and the anxiousness of awaiting an answer finally starting to weigh on his chest. 

Before he’s able to even consider a rejection, Chuck surges forwards, collecting Raleigh in his arms and smashing his lips against his. Though it catches Raleigh off guard, he recovers swiftly and melts into the kiss without a second thought, his arms slipping under Chuck’s arms to rest steadfast against the man’s back. It’s not a heated thing, but there’s a passion there that seems to give Chuck’s answer for him. 

The kiss doesn’t last long, but Raleigh is still left breathless when Chuck pulls back, a huge grin on his face that always leaves Raleigh speeches as he replies, “The answer is yes, you dumb bastard.”

Suddenly, Raleigh’s smiling too and he’s leaning forward to pepper soft kisses all over Chuck’s face before finishing off the display of affection by pressing their foreheads together. Chuck steps back when Raleigh releases him and latches Raleigh’s dogtag onto his chain. Then, he snaps off his own lower tag and holds it out for Raleigh to take. 

The blond grabs it without question, pulling his own chain out from where it rests under his sweater and hooking Chuck’s tag beneath his own. It’s official then. They’re going to get married!

Raleigh can’t stop smiling as he looks down at where Chuck’s tag sits next to his in his palm. Somehow, the smile only beams brighter when he sees his tag resting resting proudly on Chuck’s chest. Perhaps, for the first time in a LONG time, he’ll be proud to show his tags off as well. He certainly isn’t going to be hiding them under his sweater anytime soon, because now he has a reason to show them off with confidence. 

He lets the tags drop down against his chest in a bold display of beaming pride while his hand seeks out one of Chuck’s. He finds him easily, and within moments their fingers are slotted together in a way that speaks to how they were meant to be. Neither of them are particularly fond of PDA, but today, Raleigh is willing to throw caution out the window so long as Chuck is right there with him. 

“Let's go. The others will be wondering about us by now. Would be a shame to make them wait any longer for the news,” Raleigh says, a grin on his face as he begins to lead Chuck down the hallway. His steps feel lighter than they have in days and he owes all of that to the love of his life and the moment they’d shared. 

“Okay. Yeah. But Raleigh?” Chuck starts.

“Yeah?” he responds as he turns back to look at Chuck.

“You still owe me a proper ring, yeah?” the ginger states cheekily, the mirth in his eyes visible even from where he trails behind Raleigh. 

Raleigh snorts. “Only if you buy me one first,” he teases back.

“Deal,” Chuck says.

[poppyknitt]

***i have not played any of these games since at least 4 years ago. I may be misremembering their inclusivity, but from all the screenshots I've found, only vf3 has any.

Oh, i thought of this with my last post, so for any of my classic style game pals, Last Day of Work has a few interesting games. Virtual Villagers franchise is hard to learn, and lowkey has colonizer vibes (vv5 is the most overt colonization one of them. Literally calls the people you convert to your religion "savages," iirc). Virtual families are easier, but it and vv has no *real* pause and even continues passing time when you're not using it, which can be a mess. Fish tycoon is none of that and is lowkey the least problematic. I have no notes for that one.

None of these games have very much racial diversity from what i recall, and vv gives actually obvious racism at times to me, but i can't fully tell as i am not a person who can talk on that. They're originally games from the early 2000s, so i kinda dont know if the first ones are that at fault, but the continued trend of models being primarily white people is concerning.

Nevertheless, if you can ignore these issues and like simulator games that make you personally the god of their world, then you'll probably enjoy them. Im personally never gonna play them again, and i dont recommend them for more than like the demos because otherwise, you gotta pay money, but like. I can't tell you not to do something if you want to do it so like be free or whatever

[midnightskraptor]

I'm sorry what?? I thought there were only three games, that's crazy actually

Also you talking about this is giving me so much nostalgia. Man. The hours I spent on LDoW games. Their lil chime that played when you opened any of their games is forever ingrained into my memory

as I'm continuing to scroll through the video game soundtrack blog I'm giggling to myself imagining the music I would submit if it were me . I'd be submitting shit from games nobody's ever heard of save for me and 3 people and I'd be having an amazing time about it . because I'd introduce so many people to game from my childhood and it would be glorious

[theotakuinthecloset]

Happy lesbian day of visibility from your local punk butch!!

[gamerhub01]

#firework #field #ldow #trick #survival #game #rewards #season #hiddenforrest #adobe #greentea #fish #seed #rice #gamerHub #sub4sub #follow4follow #subscribeforsubscribe #likeforlike https://www.instagram.com/p/CLguKu0lxUh/?igshid=1l37jk4tcrpvq

[diavorchid]

So... I suddenly want to go back into drawing from scratch, on phone, with my finger... . . oh my god I. can't. draw. // . Also, I know I'm like 4 years late to the fandom but-- there's nothing I can do about it. . (ps. will try to develop this into a #jamilton comic, probably.) . #hamilton #alexanderhamilton #thomasjefferson #tjeff #jefferson #fanart https://www.instagram.com/p/B405eJ-ldoW/?igshid=1gcorykivmq9g

[brutteabitudini]

Castiglione di Garfagnana, novembre 2020 #instagood #photooftheday #beautiful #brutteabitudini #travelgram #leaves #amazingplace #nofilterneeded #nofilter #landscape #landscape_lovers #instatravel #landscapephotography #igtravel #ig_captures #ig_worldclub #wanderlust #ontheroad #fujifollowme #fujifilm #fujinon35mmf2 #fujifilmxe3 #xe3 #castiglionedigarfagnana #garfagnana #blackandwhite #blackandwhitephoto #blackandwhitephotography (presso Castiglione di Garfagnana) https://www.instagram.com/p/CIYN2H-LDOW/?igshid=1std88nl7cgrw

[garlictoast]

To Love is to Let Go

happy pacific rim year!!

here's Day 1 for @lastdaysofwar aka what Mako does with Stacker's dog tags.

of course i gotta make it sad.

Raleigh doesn’t keep Yancy’s dog tags.

At first, he tells himself it’s too painful. He doesn’t need the reminder, doesn’t want to hear Knifehead’s roar, doesn’t want to feel the Kaiju ripping through his arm, every time he looks at them. Normal people don’t really understand it. Don’t you want to memorialize him? They ask, as if Yancy wasn’t living in Raleigh’s head. Don’t you want to honor his service? Like Raleigh didn’t gain possession of everything else his brother left behind at the PPDC. His dress blues, his medals, his Gipsy Danger bomber jacket. The memory of every Kaiju they ever dropped. After a while, Raleigh gives up trying to explain to civilians. They just can’t get it, and he doesn’t have the energy to run circles getting them to try.

It shouldn’t surprise him that Mako is the first person to understand. After the Kaiju War, after Stacker and Chuck sacrifice themselves to save the world, Raleigh waits for Mako on the cliff’s edge as she holds the Marshall’s dog tags over the raging sea. It’s all that’s left of him, of course, his body incinerated in the blast.

“You don’t wanna keep them?” Raleigh asks, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.

Mako’s brow furrows, the corners of her mouth turning down. “No,” she says after a moment, but she doesn’t let go. The tags stay gripped in her fist, clicking together on their chain.

“Mako.” She closes her eyes, shaking her head. “You don’t have to keep them.”

“I should.” Her voice cracks, and Raleigh can tell she’s fighting back tears. “It’s all I have left of him.”

Raleigh doesn’t say anything. He’s familiar with this conflict, the constant tug-of-war between wanting to do what everyone else thinks is right and wanting to just be rid of the reminders. In the back of his mind, a younger version of himself stands on a cliff in Alaska, a colder wind lashing at his face, ice stinging his eyes. That Raleigh was alone, the only other person he imagined capable of understanding reduced to nothing but memories and two slips of battered metal. Mako mirrors that version of Raleigh now, a few tears escaping down her cheeks as she considers the memento in front of her. Raleigh steps up beside her, toeing the edge of the cliff as he pushes his hands further into his pockets.

“You know,” he starts, shifting his weight, “I didn’t keep Yancy’s.” Mako turns to him, eyes wide. “I couldn’t make myself hold onto any more of him.”

Mako’s hand lowers as she bring the tags to her chest. “I have to. I feel like I have to.” Her thumb rubs the raised lettering. “I won’t have anything left of him if I don’t.”

“You have this.” Raleigh rests one hand on Mako’s head. “Everything you’ve ever done with him, everything he’s ever done, is right here.” He lets his hand fall to her cheek. “Yancy’s been gone for a long time now, but I still see him. Every day. Every time I close my eyes, he’s there, whether I want him to be or not. That’s the beauty of the Drift, Mako. No matter what happens, no matter how much time passes, he’ll always be with you. You don’t need to hold onto anything more than you already have.” Tears are reforming in Mako’s eyes, spilling over as Raleigh talks. He doesn’t have to be in her head to know that she agrees.

“Let the sea have them,” he says, covering the dog tags in her palm with his own. “You can always find him in the Drift.” He’ll realize later that he was echoing Stacker’s last words but to her, but in the moment, all he can think of are the tears on Mako’s skin, her fingers trembling under his, the cold metal warming between their palms. All he wants is for her to feel okay with her decision, like she has something, someone. Like she isn’t alone in this, because she isn’t.

They drop the last remains of Stacker Pentecost into the sea together, watching the tags fall into the ocean until they’re swallowed by gray waves. He doesn’t move until Mako does, slowly turning her back on the sea, on her father.

“It’s not a goodbye,” she says quietly, almost to herself. “I still have him here.” She rests one hand over her heart as she smiles sadly at Raleigh.

He smiles back. “Let’s get somewhere warm.” He puts one arm around her shoulders as they walk back down the cliff, letting the warmth of her against his side chase off the chill of the wind.

In the back of his mind, he hears Yancy’s voice, faint but never fading. You did good, kid.

[coachcameronsoccer]

Day 67 @plantbased and Day 19 no caffeine #nooil #nodairy https://www.instagram.com/p/CGBsbn-lDOW/?igshid=lza0a7qcg4ep

[urban-tech-reviews]

BROWNE WORKS ROCK ISLAND 1911 CUSTOM GRIPS (at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFz0jq-lDoW/?igshid=1cmb0kb56x0o2

[iqvts]

37524 JEFFERSON Avenue, Harrison Twp, MI 48045 from iQ Visual Tours on Vimeo.

For more information: cbwm.com/listing/209-389589/37524-jefferson-avenue-harrison-twp-mi-48045

A Great find in this Lakefront community! Here is your updated first floor 2 bedroom 2 full bath lakefront oasis condominium. The living room, guest bedroom and master bedroom all have huge door walls leading to the expansive covered 500 sq ft. deck for all your entertainment needs and Lake views. Living room has gas fireplace. All appliances included. In suite Private Laundry Room. Private 1 Car Detached Garage, and 2 additional Parking Spaces. Monthly Maintenance Fee include Water, Exterior and Common Area Maintenance and Insurance, Trash Pick-Up, Snow Removal, use of Clubhouse & Pool. Clubhouse features Exercise Room, Banquet Facilities/kitchen area, sauna and Heated Pool.

Contact: Lynn Dowe (248) 433-4664 ldowe@cbwm.com

[corentincuvelier]

It's raining (Saint Vincent, April 2018) #landscapephotography #landscapelover #landscape_captures #landscapes #landscape_photography #pixel_ig #landscape_hunter #landscape_lovers #landscapecaptures #landscapestyles_gf #landscape_specialist #landscapeporn #getlost #landscapephotomag #ig_landscape #trapping_tones #ig_masterpiece #ig_podium #splendid_earth #gramslayers #agameoftones #optoutside #discoverearth #exploretheglobe #nakedplanet #places_wow #earthfocus #ourplanetdaily #earthofficial #natgeo (à Saint Vincent and the Grenadines) https://www.instagram.com/p/BoMSXU-lDOw/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=s11y29qk5shc

[desarmonia-blog]

E tanta coisa para a vida me tirar, precisa ser justamente uma das poucas pessoas que tanto fez-me bem?

Akemi Sofia.

[ratcandy]

I remember playing up til the fifth game (New Believers) with my mom, and looking at the release date difference I am Reeling. VV5 came out in 2011, VV6 came out in 2024. Guys it's been over 10 years. What are you DOING

But YEAH man I played so many of LDoW's games... I am Almost tempted to try redownloading Plant or Fish Tycoon to really relive the old days

as I'm continuing to scroll through the video game soundtrack blog I'm giggling to myself imagining the music I would submit if it were me . I'd be submitting shit from games nobody's ever heard of save for me and 3 people and I'd be having an amazing time about it . because I'd introduce so many people to game from my childhood and it would be glorious

[garlictoast]

Tragedy in Togetherness

combined days 3 and 4 for @lastdaysofwar because the prompts fit oh so well

return of my ocs, because i can. hopefully the formatting doesn't get destroyed. i'm not holding out hope

Tully Matherson’s first time in Cardinal Atlantic’s conn-pod is a bitter sweet thing.

On the one hand, he’s there. He’s finally there. After all those years, Tully finally gets to live his childhood dream, the thing he’s been working towards for as long as he can remember. He wonders, every now and then, if his dreams are a byproduct of his upbringing. Would he still be a Ranger if his father weren’t Marshall? Would he be dying to see the inside of a Jaeger if he hadn’t been raised in the PPDC? Would he be stepping into his drive suit if he hadn’t spent his formative years watching his parents do the same? The questions keep coming as he enters the conn-pod, trailing one hand over the metal walls.

On the other hand, this is Cardinal Atlantic, of all Jaegers. It’s a sick twist of irony, Tully thinks, that the last Jaeger his father ever stepped foot in would be his first.

Footsteps sound behind him, but Tully doesn’t have to turn to know who it is. Anthoine Sevre, one of Cardinal Atlantic’s original pilots, Marshall Matherson’s last co-pilot. He shouldn’t—he won’t—hold it against them. He pushes any thought of his father from his mind, letting a smile warm his face as he turns to face his new partner.

“Hey—”

“I’ll take the left,” Anthoine says without preamble. Tully hasn’t seen them since their compatibility test, much less talked to them, and their bluntness doesn’t fail to strike him as…unpleasant.

“Oookay,” Tully draws out, stepping to the right side of the conn-pod. “You excited?” he asks as the rigging clasps over his boots. Anthoine mirrors his steps but doesn’t respond. “Well, you’re probably used to this,” Tully continues. “Drifting and all. How long have you been piloting?”

“Five years.” Anthoine doesn’t seem even the slightest bit interested in Tully. They still haven’t looked at him, despite the mere few feet between them. Instead, they keep their eyes forward, the reflection of the display in their visor highlighting a slight Roman nose and sharp jawline, the light doubled in dark eyes.

“Oh, that’s longer than—”

“—Tully.” Anthoine glances at him from the corner of their eye. “You’re about to be in my head.”

Heat crawls up Tully’s neck. “Right.” He can only let the silence sit for so long as LOCCENT ramps up the neural bridge. “Any final advice?”

Anthoine sighs, but after a moment, says, “You’ll see a lot, from my side. You’re not just getting my memories, but the memories I retained from my previous partners. Including your father. Don’t get caught up in them, just let them flow.” Tully swallows, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He knows about RABITs, of course. He’s tried not to think about the fact that he’ll most likely relive the moment his father died, from both the Marshall’s perspective and Anthoine’s, but with the possibility about to become a reality, he can’t help but fear it.

“I know,” he says, though he doesn’t even sound convincing to himself.

Anthoine looks like they’re about to say something else, but are interrupted by their J-Tech.

“Morning, Rangers,” Naomi chimes over the comms. “Ready to get really, really personal?”

“Good morning, Naomi,” Anthoine says.

At the same time, Tully says, “No.”

Naomi cackles. “This will be good.” There’s a pause as she types in the commands and the neural link indicators begin to appear on screen. “Cardinal Atlantic, ready to drop.”

“Ready to drop,” Anthoine and Tully say in unison.

“Here we go.” Steam hisses as the Jaeger’s head disconnects from the coupling.

“Don’t lock your knees,” Anthoine advises a second before they make the drop. Tully copies Anthoine’s position, the loose line of their shoulders, a solid but casual stance, and forces himself to relax. The rig absorbs most of the shock, slowing considerably before they reach the body, but the force is still enough that Tully’s thankful for the hint.

“Engaging pilot-to-pilot protocol.” Naomi’s voice fills the conn-pod. Tully flips the necessary switches as he dutifully ignores the tingle of excitement shivering down his arms.

“Connection sequence engaged,” Cardinal Atlantic’s AI sounds off. The display flickers to life in front of them, opening on the bay. The massive doors remain closed, but Tully’s dying to know what it’ll be like to see them open from inside a Jaeger. Beside him, Anthoine rolls their neck, momentarily pausing with their head tilted back, eyes closed. Tully can’t help but think that he’s about to be inside their brain, and the thought momentarily scares him.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though, as Marshall Jameson taps into the comms. “Good morning, rangers. Marshall Jameson, checking in. Prepare for neural handshake.”

 Naomi starts the countdown, and suddenly, Tully can’t ignore the buzzing in his head. He shakes his hands in an attempt to distract himself, urging his brain to think of literally anything that won’t ruin this for him. For both of them. He knows Anthoine will see just about anything that crosses Tully’s mind. Unfortunately for Tully, he’s been spending too much time thinking about Anthoine, about what this moment would be like, would mean, for the both of them. Before Tully’s father, Anthoine had two other co-pilots. Three in just over five years. Not a lot, but more than the average ranger. What’s it even like, Tully wonders, to be in the heads of so many people? What’s it going to be like to be in his father’s head? He doesn’t know the extent of his father’s death, just that he was killed in combat after a Kaiju damaged Cardinal Atlantic’s conn-pod, due to blunt force trauma. He could’ve asked—probably should’ve—but he didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to know what it was like, what his father might’ve felt. The adrenaline in his veins turns icy.

Seconds before the handshake, Tully looks over at Anthoine. He’s surprised to find their dark eyes on him, corners of their mouth pinched downward, as if they’re already regretting this. Tully doesn’t have time to ask. The countdown reaches ‘one’ as Anthoine faces forward again, and the neural bridge opens.

Tully is sucked in immediately. He doesn’t fight it—he knows better. It’s an odd sensation, like all of his thoughts, his memories, are tied together, and someone is pulling the string, yanking them through his consciousness faster and faster. A few memories he doesn’t recognize—Anthoine’s, he’s sure—flicker in the back of his mind. He forces himself to push forward, not letting the RABITs distract him. There are faces he doesn’t recognize, words in a language he doesn’t know. Images of a bright, warm kitchen, a woman’s voice singing a French lullaby. A small black and white dog dashes into a copse of trees, which then turns into a field, dotted with grazing horses. One of the horses whinnies, then screams, as the field turns dark, the shapes of the horses folding into rubble, the clouds in the sky darkening with ash. The heat around him is unbearable, but Tully doesn’t dwell, doesn’t take the bait. The memory courses past, ruins turning darker, smooth, the halls of their station in northern California. Something more familiar, which Tully is glad for. The red of warning lights pulse on the walls.

“Ready, kid?” A voice sounds behind him, and Tully balks. There’s his father, just as he remembers him. He looks slightly shorter, and Tully duly notes it’s because he’s seeing him through Anthoine’s eyes, who is a couple inches taller than Tully himself.

“Always,” Anthoine says, the end of the word fading as the memory begins to move on.

Except, it doesn’t. Tully stumbles forward, into Cardinal Atlantic’s conn-pod, the Jaeger’s AI blaring around him

“Warning, neural bridge unstable. Right hemisphere disconnected.”

“Sorry,” Tully stammers, his mouth dry. He didn’t realize the connection was so sensitive. “I didn’t—”

“It’s not you,” Naomi interrupts. She sounds frantic, as if Tully is the last thing on her mind. “Goddammit. Tully, Anthoine’s too deep. They’re chasing the RABIT. Try to get them out, but don’t disengage.”

Fuck me, Tully thinks. Beside him, Anthoine is standing perfectly still, save for a slight twitch in their right hand. They’re too far away for Tully to try touching them, and he doesn’t think throwing anything would help, even if he did have anything to throw. “Naomi, how…”

“Uh.” Naomi mutters something, too quiet for Tully to understand. “If you can reengage, you can try to pull them out from inside the memory.”

“Is that…safe?”

“The worse that’s gonna happen is you both disengage and the bridge collapses. In that case, we just try again. I can reconnect you, if you’re ready.”

Tully swallows, shifting his weight and shaking out his shoulders. “Do it,” he says, before he can chicken out.

The conn-pod shifts around him. Sirens blare, a million warnings demanding his attention on the display. Panic spikes in Tully chest until he realizes—he’s on the other side of Cardinal Atlantic. This is Anthoine’s memory. Beyond the Jaeger’s visor, a massive Kaiju roars, the sound vibrating through Tully’s bones. Tully recognizes this Kaiju, a Cat 4 known as Riptide. In front of him, Anthoine braces as Riptide bows its head before charging. It collides with Cardinal Atlantic so hard, they’re thrown back. Pain shoots up Tully’s spine as the Jaeger collides with a cliff face behind them.

“The nerve system’s damaged,” Anthoine’s co-pilot says, and Tully’s heart stops. His father again, a few years older, looking exactly as he had the last time Tully saw him.

Of course.

Of course, the RABIT Anthoine chases would be the day Marshall Matherson died.

“We need to reboot the system,” Anthoine states, reaching to flip a switch on their control panel.

“We don’t have time.” The Marshall punches a command into the system as Riptide charges again.

Reroute the system, the thought passes in Tully’s mind, and he recognizes it as his father’s. Anthoine is already moving to type in the same command, their body lurching backwards before the last button is pushed as the Kaiju throws itself against them.

“Hull breach,” Cardinal Atlantic declares. Tully doesn’t have to look to know a rip has opened across the back of the Jaeger’s head, jagged cliff face digging through the metal.

Fucking Kaiju, the pilots think together. Then, sword on the left flank, he’s open. And Anthoine is moving before the thought is complete, bringing Cardinal Atlantic’s left sword arm up, slicing into the Kaiju’s body. The monster screams, open mouth a mere feet from the Jaeger’s head. Again. The Kaiju relinquishes its hold as the sword cuts through its side, burying itself in bone. Anthoine tries to pull back, but the blade is stuck.

Riptide yanks backward, taking Cardinal Atlantic with it as it retreats several steps. There’s a moment of quiet, odd stillness, as the Kaiju stares them down.

It’s thinking. The Marshall.

That’s not good. Anthoine.

The pilots bring Cardinal Atlantic’s right arm up, crossing the Jaeger’s two swords as the Kaiju leaps, throwing itself bodily across the space between them.

Tully vaguely thinks that he knows what happens next, that he doesn’t want to see it, but he can’t stop it from playing out in front of him.

The tip of Riptide’s claw catches Cardinal Atlantic, ripping into the conn-pod and taking out the edge of Marshall Matherson’s rigging. The pilots both scream, pain ripping through their right side as Matherson is thrown out of the rigging and into the far wall. Something like electricity sparks at the back of their heads, tingling outwards, down their spines, fading into a persistent pressure. Tully can’t move as the two pilots’ thoughts run laps in his head. Anthoine’s flooding his cerebral cortex with a deep-down panic, fear pushing through the mirrored pain coming from the Marshall. And the Marshall…

Steven Matherson’s mind is fading, gripping wildly onto anything he can find substance in. Memories of earlier battles, memories of Anthoine’s, memories of Tully. The young, curly-haired, wild child Tully used to be, wreaking havoc on LOCCENT because he was one of very few children living on a massive military base. Tully as he grew up, his years at the academy, the relief his father felt when Tully announced he was going to be a J-Tech. Steven would always love his son, but he never wanted him to be a Jaeger pilot. Tully swallows, chest contracting as he watches his father die. All he can think is that he’s here, where he’s always wanted to be, as his father’s last wish crosses his mind.

God, please, never let Tully step foot in a Jaeger.

When the Marshall dies, Tully feels nothing, just as if he’s there, then gone. The three paths of thought in his mind reduce to two, just him and Anthoine.

Anthoine struggles to push Riptide off, slashing upwards with one arm. The Kaiju catches the arm in its mouth, biting down hard. Pain lances up Anthoine’s arm as it tears into mechanic muscle strands, but the ranger doesn’t back down. They cast a look over their shoulder, searching for the Marshall, only pausing for a split second when they find his body.

“LOCCENT,” they say through gritted teeth, “reroute the Marshall’s control to me.”

“Anthoine, what happened?” Naomi’s voice cracks through the comms. “We lost connection to the Marshall, is he—”

“—He’s dead,” Anthoine almost shouts. Pain surges as Riptide shreds Cardinal Atlantic’s arm further, mixing with the panic and grief building in the back of Anthoine’s mind. “Give me control, now.”

Naomi doesn’t argue. A split second later, an orange light haloes Anthoine’s right hand, signaling control of the right hemisphere. Pressure blooms at Anthoine’s temple as they lift their right arm, calling on the Jaeger’s second sword. They bring it down, hard, across Riptide’s cheek, severing the Kaiju’s head in two. The beast stumbles, struggling to keep its hold as blood and brain matter splash into the ocean around them. It’s a losing battle. Moments later, the Kaiju shutters, its jaw going lax as its body fails, collapsing against Cardinal Atlantic. Dead.

Anthoine falls to their knees in the rigging. Cardinal Atlantic does the same, help up only by the cliffs behind it and the Kaiju pinning its front.

“Fuck,” Anthoine gasps, tilting their head back, breathing hard. After a moment, they finally look back, staring at Steven’s body for several seconds. A single, agitated sob escapes them, and something clicks in Tully’s head.

The Jaeger. The drift test.

He chased the fucking RABIT.

“Anthoine,” he starts, remembering his body and moving to kneel at his co-pilot’s side. He touches their shoulder, to no response. “Anthoine, it’s done. It’s over.” But Anthoine can’t hear them, their breathing too sharp, too focused on his former co-pilot’s body.

Naomi’s voice sounds again, this time too close to Tully to be part of the memory. “Tully, can you hear me?”

“Yes, shit. Sorry. I can’t—they’re too—”

“I know,” Naomi’s voice is soft, like she’s talking to a scared child. “We’re going to terminate the neural link, okay?”

Tully swallows the lump in his throat, actively keeping himself from following Anthoine’s line of sight. “Yeah, I just…” He fails miserably. Thankfully, from his place at Anthoine’s side, all he can see is his father’s hand where it lays limp on the ground.

“I’m sorry, Tully.”

He takes a deep breath, making himself close his eyes and turn away. “It’s okay. I knew this could happen.”

“It doesn’t make it any easier. I’m disconnecting you guys now.”

The conn-pod, the real conn-pod, comes back to Tully in a rush. He falls to his knees at the same time Anthoine does, both of them kneeling on the floor in silence punctuated only by their ragged breathing. Having his mind to himself again provides a small relief, but Tully can’t shake the sense of having someone else in his head. He reaches up numbly, flipping a switch on the right side of his control panel before pressing two buttons along the jawline of his helmet.

“Right hemisphere, disengaged,” Cardinal Atlantic states. Tully pulls his helmet off, pushing his hair back as he sits to the best of his ability. “Left hemisphere, disengaged.”

Anthoine takes the same steps as Tully, setting their helmet aside gently. They rub absently at their left arm as they make eye contact from across the conn-pod. “Sorry.”

Tully waves them off, too out of breath to talk.

“Everything okay in there?” Naomi asks.

“Peachy.” Anthoine tries to sound okay, but it comes out exasperated. “Didn’t mean to ruin it, LOCCENT.”

“Man, shut up,” Naomi says. “We should’ve kept a better eye on you. We were too worried about our rookie here.”

“I thought I did okay,” Tully defends himself.

“You did just fine,” Anthoine says. They’re quiet for a moment, looking over Tully, before continuing. “I’m sorry about your father. I should’ve tried to save him.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, Anthoine. He died before the Kaiju did. You wouldn’t have been able to do both.” Anthoine only shrugs. Tully takes a deep breath, then rises to his feet, taking up his helmet.

Anthoine watches him, brows furrowed, as Tully puts his helmet back on. “What are you doing?”

“Trying again,” Tully states simply. “Unless you want our first drift to end on us reliving the death of my father?”

Anthoine laughs, and Tully knows he’s caught them by surprise. “Absolutely not.” They stand slowly, obviously not fully recovered from the memory, but pushing through.

Once their helmet is back on, Naomi says, “Are you guys sure you wanna try again right now? We can come back after lunch…”

“No,” Tully and Anthoine chorus. They look at each other, slightly shocked.

“We’re ready now,” Tully says. Anthoine smiles, igniting a warmth in Tully’s chest.

“Here goes nothing, then.”

The connection sequence restarts. The two pilots punch in the necessary commands, both of them taking a deep breath before the neural bridge reengages. This time, Tully doesn’t wander. He let’s Anthoine’s memories flow by, keeping his eyes ahead, locked on Cardinal Atlantic’s display. Glimpses of faces, snippets of voices, flood around him, but they don’t catch. It’s easier this time, now that he knows what to expect. A shadow flickers at the edge of his mind—Riptide’s claw tearing into the hull—but Tully refuses to let the memory stick. After several seconds, the flow slows, and Tully’s mind clears.

That was…           

…better.

Tully catches Anthoine’s gaze across the conn-pod. The other pilot winks.

It’s not all that bad.

He didn’t realize at first, but the thought comes from Anthoine, who still watches him carefully.

Dude, this is like, real telepathy.

Anthoine laughs again, and Tully thinks he can get used to the sound.

Don’t get your hopes up, Matherson.

Anthoine teases, but their tone is light, warm.

“How are we feeling?” Naomi cuts into their thoughts.

“Scientifically advanced,” Tully jokes. It is weird, having someone else in his head. He realizes that, with enough focus, he can kind of see from Anthoine’s perspective, too. This freaks him out though, and he almost immediately pushes the idea to the back of his mind.

Keep your hands to yourself.

Sorry.

“Well, if we’re ready, let’s see if baby can take his first steps. Starting up calibration. You first, Matherson.”

Tully exhales, pushing the three buttons to begin the calibration on his side. “Right hemisphere, calibrating.” Something tingles at the base of his neck as the Jaeger leans into his neurons. His lifts his arms, the orange glow of the halo circling his right wrist. Cardinal Atlantic moves with him, lifting its right arm.

Beside him, Anthoine copies his steps. “Left hemisphere, calibrating.” They lift their arms, and Tully feels it as much as he sees it. The Jaeger’s left arm lefts, and both pilots bring their hands together in front of them. Cardinal Atlantic’s hands come together in front of the display.

The buzz at the base of Tully’s skull settles, his nerves calming as the Jaeger settles around them, as the pilots settle with each other. He isn’t surprised when he sees his grin reflected on Anthoine’s face.

“Calibration complete.”