#not even the train station literally just next to the tracks

[ahalliance]

it is 1:30 am on a sunday night/monday morning . you are woken up by a train wagon’s incredibly loud maintenance, so loud that it is literally making your apartment shake . this is the reality of living by the railway tracks

[starqueensthings]

We need to talk about Echo (and by talk I mean screm). S3 E13 + 14 Spoilers!

FRIENDS, I'M GOING TO EXPLODE. I need to talk about Echo for a minute. We need to talk about Echo for a minute,  because he has spent the last two episodes in the absolute thralls of complete and total danger, and I personally don't feel like there's been enough of a celebratory uproar for me to be satisfied with the level of appreciation and love that man deserves. (Remember when Hunter ran face first into a colossal exhaust pipe and we all collectively lost our minds because it was so impressive and so sexy? Remember when Tech drove a speeder really fast through a tunnel and we all fainted? I'M A TECH GIRLY. IT WAS ME! I FAINTED!!) but, Y'ALL, Echo deserves that right now!! And for all eternity!!! Because he is wholly submurged in the harrowing potential of torture and execution, and he didn't even bat an eye to put himself there. My awe of him is all-consuming, so please forgive me if this rant reads as nothing but incoherent screaming. 

Echo haters (first of all, we can't be friends....) come on this journey with me! Let's back pedal to the beginning of the last episode (13). He stole an imperial shuttle. Let me repeat, he stole an imperial shuttle. And not just an attack shuttle. Not just a lil one-pilot transport. Bro somehow stole a Rho-class medical transport, which is very large, obscenely conspicuous, and very easily tracked. And, to use his own words, it was "the best he could do on short notice." The man stole a shuttle on short notice. ON SHORT NOTICE? HELLO, HOW DID HE DO THAT. WHY AIN'T WE LOSING OUR COOL ABOUT IT. 

Next stop on this I-love-Echo journey through my mind: not only did he provide his brothers transportation in the complete void of their own (RIP havoc bb), but he also came equipped with intel and clearance codes, and, as Rampart stated, those things change DAILY. Echo somehow procured top secret imperial clearance codes, and a fkn SHIP, within hours of the Batch requesting his help. Not to mention, the ship had yet to be reported missing (which means it was only-freshly commandeered), and the clearance codes worked. Of course they did. Echo never fails. Never doubt Echo. "Echo's on it."  

Choochoo, next stop! Once they arrived on that station orbiting Coruscant, and made their way to the control room (lookin sexy as heck in his armour-au-noir), he broke imperial encryption, hacked into the Imperial database, almost instantly found them the location of a ship departing for the prison that holds their daughter Tantiss, AND THEN DIDN'T EVEN HESITATE TO CLIMB ABOARD AND STOW AWAY.  

He didn't even remotely have a plan, or have time to make a plan. He didn't know who or what else would be on board that mysterious vessel. He didn't know where it was going other than the name of the fkn mountain (which has proven to be nothing but unhelpful thus far). He just ARC-troopered his way through that crowded hangar, dodging aggressive astromech's and inconsiderate loader droids, shirking from the perspective eyes of highly trained commandos, and snuck his way onto a heavily guarded, extremely unknown science vessel. Then, of course, he wasted no time, hacking into the ships control system (may I gently remind- there were at least three pilots and an officer prepping the ship for jump and closely watching all aspects of its controls), disabling the proximity sensors without being detected, and then seamlessly covered the troopers absence by pretending to be him (which we all know is what should have happened on Serenno but... hindsight is 20/20.)  

So... SO.... now we're at Episode 14. Here we at fkn terrified station because HULLO ECHO IS ALONE ON A SCIENCE DIVISION TRANSPORT; we have literally seen them carry around Zilo beasts in that shit. What the heck else could be on there that they don't know about? Literally anything. Because THEY KNEW NOTHING before attaching themselves to it. Echo knew NOTHING before sneaking onto that thing and creepin' around. Thank heck he didnt come across a fkn fresh wave of slither vines ok?  

NEXT, Echo shoots (not stuns- lol) a sassy fkn droid (they had it coming, not sorry), then another trooper. AND THEN discovered his only option for departing the ship once it enters atmosphere is going completely undercover, because (in true "we improvise everything" CF99 fashion that gives me heart burn just thinking about it), they had zero fkn plan to get off the ship. I will repeat: completely undercover. On Tantiss. COMPLETELY UNDERCOVER ON TANTISS. NO COMMS, NO BACK UP, NO RECON, NO PLAN, BARELY ANY GEAR, and I would just like to stress... no neuro brace. He left his neurobrace on that ship. Left it. LEFT IT AND TOOK A HAND INSTEAD. PLEASE FKN SEDATE ME.  

We can't leave this station yet... This I-love-Echo train needs to linger at this point for a sec because I think it's lost on some people how wild this is. Echo without his neurobrace is huge. It's a bigger deal than Echo without his armour. Armour is, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential (one can find more- see Howzer). Echo's neurobrace is not armour, it's a computer and it's so so so crucial to how his mind processes information and events. Don't forget, the Technounion HIJACKED HIS BRAIN. They took every memory from him and manipulated it for their gain. Pruned it, tweaked it, blanched it, poached it, turned it into scrambled eggs, and then fkn ate it up and used it to defeat their enemies (Echo's family- I'm sobbing). They implanted him with an unfathomable amount of information; they changed the way the neurons in his brain fire in relation to stimuli. That neurobrace is so so critical for him. Now, we know he can operate well enough without it, we saw it in the last episode of the TBB arc in season 7 of Clone Wars, but... please.... to what extent? We don't know what an extended time without that neurobrace looks like for him... especially when all other aspects compliing his surroundings foreign, unknown, and dangerous, and that scares me.

AND NOW HE'S ABOUT TO RUN AMOK IN TANTISS with Emerie who, (I'm sorry) is wishy-washy as heck (who are you loyal to!!!!! What is your history!!! Are you trustworthy and what are you looking to gain!!!), trying to adopt a collection of Jedi children whove spent maker-knows how long playing space tetris, WHILST ALSO ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE AND ESCAPE WITH HIS BROTHERS UNDER THE EYE OF THE GALAXY'S SECOND MOST DANGEROUS MAN. 

So yes, short of d-d-d-di... can't say it... short of THE WORST CASE, Echo has made the ultimate sacrifice to save not only Omega who is literally the only person we've seen able to make him truly laugh, but all the clone brothers that he's been desperately trying to locate and rescue. His bravery and determination are literally unrivalled, and he did it while feasting on nothing but humble pie because that man wouldn't know arrogance if it danced naked under his perfect nose.  

Okay so welcome, we've finally pulled into I-Love-Echo station. Before departing the ride, please stand and do a hip hip hurray for the miracle that is Echo, including but not limited to, everything he's done, is doing, and is willing to do for other people. 

[cecilioque]

The Submas Designs are a lot more clever than you thought.

First lets look at the Submas overall design.  We know that the original design was intended to make the Subway Bosses look like clowns and kind of creepy (that backfired); hence the comically large shoes and exaggerated expressions. Let’s start to break down each part of the design. 

To begin, The Submas extreme expressions are a possible reference to the symbol of theatre; the mask of Tragedy and the Mask of Comedy.  The mask of tragedy is commonly portrayed frowning ( not necessarily cry) on a black base mask while the mask of Comedy is portrayed smiling on a white base masks. Sometimes these masks are gold or split black and white color.  The masks together represent the two extremes of the human psyche. Definitely the contrast we see between Emmet's smile and Ingo’s frown.

Next up, the coats.  These are obviously designed to look like train tracks.  The vertical grey lines representing the rails, the red brown the tie (the wood connecting the rails), and the buttons are the spikes that secure the track.  You can see the pattern best on the back of the Submas coat.  Looking at it you could laugh and say “I guess that makes the Subway boss themselves the train”, and you know what? You’re right.

This brings us to the most interesting part of their design, the color and pose.  Yes, there is an explanation to the silly pose too.  It’s so silly that we can just brush this whole design off as being another funny Pokemon character design; but unfortunately it’s actually thought out.  

The Submas themselves are the New York Subway. Or at least they are the personified version of it.  Let’s look at the colors again.  Black and White.  Very fitting for a game literally called Pokemon Black and White.  That alone brings us to some interesting comparisons with the game themes and pokemon.

Kudari or (Emmet in the English version) wears all white. He values routine and rules and is ultimately pretty point blank.  We can easily make that conclusion that  Emmet represents Reshiram and truth. If we break down his name we see that in Japanese it means something along the lines of “down train” or moving away/going down hill.  The different translations usually mean the same, except the name “Emmet” is a bit out of place.  A lot of people say the Submas names in English are most likely to be puns of “Ingoing and Emitting”.  But my crazy self did more digging and found that Emmet means “truth” specifically universal truth.  This name goes back to old German, Irish, and even Hebrew. All looping back to Reshiram and themes of the game. (On a funny side note, Emmet is also the Cornish word for ant; so Emmet having a Durant is really funny. ) 

Next up is Nobori or Ingo who wears a black coat and appears frowning. Despite that , his is very encouraging and excited about moving forward. This makes sense since the name Nobori in Japanese more or less means to move up/forward ( specifically up a mountain).  That’s why a lot of people believe that the poor man was eebie deebied for the pun because Warden Ingo works on Mt. Coronet. In English, Ingo is thought to be a shortened version of “Ingoing” which also aligns with not only the Japanese name but the character’s reoccurring theme of progress, moving forward, and ideals. In this sense Ingo very much represents Zekrom and ideals. 

Truth and ideals, Reshiram and Zekrom, Tragedy and comedy, white and Black.  All very good interpretations and symbolism for two funny train men. I would be satisfied with just knowing that, but no; the Submas are also a funny gijinka of the New York Subway.  This is the part the has me laughing at how simple it is and yet we just easily accepted that they were just a bit strange.

Take a look at this. This is a Zebra Board.  

Yep, it’s black and white. And do you know what? This MTA sign only appears in the New York subway.  What does it do?  These are used by conductors to indicate safety and that the train has lined up in the station. Every time the subway comes into the station, the conductor has to physically point at this board/bar to indicate that it is safe for the doors to open. The action is called "point and call" or "point and acknowledge".  This practice is used in a few other train/subway stations (such as Japan), but the black and white board is New York specific. The pose of the submas suddenly makes a lot of sense.

Other Important notes observations.

The Submas face represents the front of the train.  So their eyes are the lights (hence Ingos glowing eyes in PLA), their side burns are cow catchers ( see graphic), and the Medalion on the hat is round like a train number plate.  Another interesting thing is that the Submas use airline Captain Pilot hats like Japanese train conductors use.  The only part of their outfit that confuses me is the arm bands.  This is more of a police uniform element and not a train conductor thing.

so to conclude, the Submas are basically a reference to in game themes, Reshiram/Zekrom, Trains, and literally the New York subway

I am not an expert. These are just my observations. I could be completely wrong.  Take and add what you would like to.  If you have more to add about the design, feel free to reblog that info. I would also like to see your interpretation.

[cheriladycl01]

Switching up on me - Esteban Ocon x Lawyer! Reader

Plot: Busy days using an underground train system you aren't familiar too is stressful enough with all the people and noises, but your day couldn't get any worse when you switch bags with the person you bumped into on the platform.

You were currently running around central Milan in a tizz, you were trying to find the underground station so you could make your way over to the building your client had sent through.

Usually your legal firm dealt with everything strictly in the UK, but this high profile client of yours was unable to make the travel from Italy to England. Your boss sent you off saying you'd have to meet him there to run through final things before you went to court. Everything was in a large duffle bag, all the private documents and confidential agreements and you were struggling holding it next to you.

Once you got into the subway system you placed the bag down next to you but close enough no-one would be able to steal from you. A gentleman came and stood next to you waiting for the next train that was supposed to come in about a minute.

What you didn't anticipate was Milan's sudden rush hour, some guy bumped into you making your trip over your bag. The guy who was next to you caught you and held you steady so you didn't fall onto the tunneled track.

"Thank you!" you smile up at him, and you guys continue to stare up at each other until the train comes into the station. People push their way off and the mystery man looks up at the train side and gasps when he notices it's his. He grabs his bag and jumps on while you watch in awe as the love of your life, your literal soulmate leaves the station on the train.

You wait knowing that one was heading out of the city and sit on a bench waiting for yours to come in.

You pick up the bag which feels slightly heavier than before but you don't think much off it. You get on the next tube which is luckily a lot quieter and manage to get a seat and have your bag on your lap. When you feel it, it feels a little odd, not as padded out in some areas as you remembered it being.

You slowly unzip the bag, seeing none of your things. No water bottle with turtle stickers, or university hoodie, no legal documents of your clients and no nice pair of heels you were supposed to put on before you got to the office after your train commute and small walk.

"No no no!" you whispers to yourself rummaging through finding a helmet, a suit and other various manly bits that weren't yours.

You then remembered the man on the platform and that you must have switched bags. You smiled at the thought that you guys had the exact same bags which just fueled your thoughts of the fact that the very attractive man that saved your life on the Milan underground was in fact your soulmate.

You get off at the next stop at a completely random place in Milan, where you see and advertisement for the F1 race in Monza. The guy must be something to do with that, he was heading that way and he had the helmet and race suit.

You pull out your phone and pull up your clients number before calling them.

"Hey Y/N!" they answer after one ring and immediately they sound a little guilty.

"Everything alright?" you ask.

"Well, you see somethings come up and I'm going to need to postpone everything until tomorrow and the day after, I'll pay for the flight for the inconvenience and your extra hotel expenses and you know what even through dinner on me tomorrow night. I'll take you to a nice place in Milan, but I'm so sorry I cant do it today!" she blurts out and a massive smile comes onto your face.

"That's no problem at all, I can er... do a little more research in the mean time and ... maybe explore the city!" you exclaim knowing you'd be heading on a tube straight for Monza.

"Ahhhh! Your a star I'm so glad the company sent you! I swear you are the only one I trust! But defiantly explore the city it's beautiful. I'll see you tomorrow babe but I really have to go! Okay goodbye!" she says before hanging up.

"You clutch the bag, looking around before you find your way to the nearest taxi service.

"Hello, could you take me to Monza? The er race track?" you ask having no idea if there was a specific name.

"130 euro!" he says and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the price.

"Yeah, that's fine!" you grit your teeth.

You are there in no-time jumping out after paying the driver and looking at the map to try and find the most sensible place to go. You assume the paddock where it leads to the garages makes the most sense.

However as you get there and see the security and the pass entrance you start to panic. You walk up to one of the security with a friendly smile on your face which was almost sheepish.

"Hi, this is going to sound so bizarre but I think I've switched bags with a driver and I have their helmet and race suit. Can I get in to hand it back to him please and to get my bag back?" you ask and he laughs.

"Yeah sod off kid!" he laughs the one next to him joining in.

"No I'm being series look!" you say unzipping the bag. They look at it and look between each other.

"Radio it through to alpine" one of the says before walking off through the entrance. You awkwardly stand there waiting for someone to say anything.

"I've been told to bring her through!" the one on the walky talky says letting you go through. He walks with you until you come up to one place that has a big picture of the man you met in the subway.

"Esteban?" you ask pointing to his picture and the security guard nods.

"Apparently he went out to look for you, he's been called by his team to come back as you are here!" he smiles before walking off towards the front. Someone comes running out the front in team gear smiling at you.

"Hey, come with me can we get you anything to drink. You can wait in Esteban's driver room!" he smiles and you politely decline a drink, placing yourself on the sofa and waiting patiently.

"Hey!" a voice interrupts you from scrolling on your phone.

"Hey, I erm think I have something of yours!" you grin, holding up the bag and he sighs seeing his bag the exact colour and model that yours was.

"Thank god! That bag has my life in it!" he cries.

"I think i would have been fired if I actually lost mine!" you admit.

"Yeah, I just want you to know the minute I saw confidential i didn't look through anything. I only found the key card to your hotel room, that's where I was heading to in hopes you'd gone there to try make some calls.

"I worked out you must be a driver and that you'd probably be in dire need so i came straight here!" you smile and he nods.

"Well thank you for delivering the goods!" he smiles handing over your bag. You smile and thank him, before hesitating to exit the room. However you do with a sad sort of smile, knowing you'd probably never see him again.

"Wait!" a voice shouts making your turn round and you see Esteban stood there.

"Can I please have your number, or take you out to dinner as a thank you?" he asks looking over you, trying to get a read.

"Really?" you grin, not expecting him to have asked.

"Well, I think it's sort of fate right?" he asks with a little sly grin on his face.

"Yeah, I guess you're right!" you grin.

Taglist:

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[ashleyleygraves]

If I were to make the next Zelda game, what would I change?

Bring back underwater traversal and real Water Temples.

If you were to think about any iconic Zelda item that isn't a weapon, you'd most likely think about the hook/clawshot. I like that we can climb, but I miss the claw/hookshot. Personally, I'd have the Skyward Sword climbing mechanics where you can climb a little bit but not much, but make it so that the hook/clawshot can go on any surface. Even better is a double claw/hookshot so you can swing around like Spider-Man

Linkle. That's right, from the original Hyrule Warriors spin-off game. It would be cool if we got to choose to play as Link or Linkle at the beginning of the game. Make it so that Link can't get into Gerudo Town without a disguise like in Breath of the Wild, but also make it so Linkle can't get into Goron City without a disguise, that way it's even and there's no major advantage.

If Linkle can't be an option, I'd have Link be a different race than Hylian. Tears of the Kingdom already teased us with this concept with the Ancient Hero. Before TotK, the closest we got was Ocarina of Time/Majora's Mask Link who thought he was a Kokiri but found out that he was in fact Hylian and also had ghost masks to shapeshift into other races. (Or you could also add Linkle as this race too. But I think that's a bit much)

20 hearts OR harder enemies. With BotW, Link had 30 hearts. In literally every other Zelda game he had 20. With 30 hearts, it was a decent change in normal mode, but in Master Mode, it made it essential. Enemies did more damage and evolved from their normal mode counterparts. In TotK, Link has 40 hearts and no Master Mode. The enemies do basically the same damage as in BotW's normal mode and sometimes even far less with the decayed-unfused weapons. So I would make the series go back to 20 hearts or have Master Mode as the default difficulty.

A new fast travel system. Look, shrines were a good idea. Especially for a fast travel system, but if we're getting rid of the 10-20 extra hearts how I would do it, we need something else. For this, let's turn to Skyrim for just a second. The fast travel system there is broken because every cave, tower, dungeon, etc. is a fast travel point, but let's look at the towns/cities and important landmarks: they're fast travel points once we discover them. So let's turn those things into fast travel points in this hypothetical Zelda game. Now, what about the less significant parts of the map? Well, a few train stations around the map with a train. I mean, trains are in the Zelda universe. Spirit Tracks literally is about that, so it wouldn't be a big deal. I had this idea back in 2021, and now even fucking Fortnite has a train around a map with a few train stations in random spots.

This one will make a bit more sense if you read my "If I were to make a Zelda game, what would I keep?" post. Heart Pieces/Stamina pieces. You could go the normal route with 4 pieces makes a full thing or go Twilight Princess style with 5 pieces makes a full thing. These would probably be given as quest rewards in quests that are Side Adventures rather than Main Quests or Side Quests. Side quests would give you rupees or a rare item and Main Quests will give you more story progression.

Bring back the "one-and-done" races like the Kokiri, Twili, Minish, Zonai, Lokomo, etc.

[hmslusitania]

35. “They’re not you.” for Jason/Dick

Which are "I'm dying." "You're not dying." and "I missed the train, can I stay with you?" It ended up being a little more pre-romance than actual romance, but! Have 1.5k of whatever this is (sick fic; it's sick fic)

It would be one thing if Jason hadn’t totalled his bike tracking down the smugglers in Blüdhaven. It would be another if he hadn’t lost his stupid grapple line, and still another whole situation if Dick hadn’t watched literally all of it happen.

“Need a ride back to Gotham?” Dick asks while they crouch on the fire escape to make sure Blüdhaven’s cops actually collar the smugglers they’ve so neatly lined up for them.

The concept of sitting on the back of Dick’s bike with him for the entire drive back up to Gotham makes Jason’s palms start sweating in his gloves.

“We’ve got trains for a reason, Dickhead,” Jason replies, and doesn’t need to see Dick’s face under his domino mask to know Dick’s just rolled his eyes.

Jason slips off the fire escape and in the shadow of the ’haven alleyway, he does his best to strip down his tactical gear into something that passes for civilian attire, stuffing his helmet and the rest of his gear into a bag. Collapsible duffel bags: never leave home without them.

He has to turn his collar up against the rain on his way to the station, and he doesn’t appreciate the way the grimy water drips down the back of his neck or soaks his hair, and he really, really hates it that he gets to the station in time to see the station master flip all the lights off and tell him that the next train to Gotham won’t be until the commuter run at six in the morning.

He does contemplate just crashing at the station entrance. Except his phone buzzes and he pulls it out to see a text from Dick that just reads, “Didn’t the trains stop for the night?”

It’s not an invitation, Jason knows that. It’s never an invitation. Dick had moved to Blüdhaven to get the hell away from all of them and like, sure, he won’t argue about it when Tim or Damian or the girls turn up at his door and invite themselves in, but he doesn’t like—

You know I’ve got a couch, right?

The second text makes Jason’s palms start sweating again. Or maybe that’s just the rain.

Whatever. Whatever. What. Ever. It’s fine. It’s literally so fine. He’s not a fifteen-year-old dipshit tagging along on Teen Titans missions in the blind hope of getting his crushes’ attention anymore. He’s a twenty-five-year-old dipshit chasing smugglers to the next city over to get his crush’s attention, which is totally different. And also not at all what he’d been doing. Whatsoever.

It’s not a long walk from the station to Dick’s apartment, but in the sixteen blocks or whatever it is, he gets even more soaked, in ways he really doesn’t enjoy. He’s at least too physically miserable to second-guess his own choices by the time he gets to Dick’s and tries not to be offended when Dick’s dog sniffs at him once and then ducks behind Dick’s bare calves because Jason’s gross from the Blüdhaven night.

“Can I use your shower?” Jason asks, already dropping his duffel bag and hanging his jacket on the hooks by Dick’s kitchen door.

“I’ll see if I can find anything that’ll fit you,” Dick offers. “Towels are in the cabinet.”

Jason grunts eloquently in response and then hides in the steam of Dick’s shower for longer than strictly necessary. He doesn’t come out until Dick knocks on the door to let him know there are clothes waiting for him. In a mostly neat pile by the bathroom door, Jason finds a pair of threadbare sweats he’d bet money had once been Bruce’s, and a shirt that’s even a little too big for him that advertises for the Metropolis Meteors.

Jason pulls it on and then tracks Dick back to the kitchen. He plucks at the logo pointedly and Dick just shrugs.

“Clark left it behind the last time we were catching a game,” Dick explains.

“Right, yeah, because Superman just hangs out in your apartment to watch baseball games,” Jason mutters, which only gets him a shrug again and then Dick goes back to prepping his coffee pot for the next morning.

Jason helps himself to the couch, dragging the blanket off the back of it and fully intending to pass out without speaking to Dick again that night. He gets as far as snuggling in with his damp hair on the throw pillow when Haley bounds over to him, licks him on the nose, and then retreats to Dick’s room while Dick laughs.

“Night, Jay,” Dick calls from the doorway.

“Night,” Jason mumbles, rubs the dog slobber off his nose and tries to sleep.

He figures out something’s gone terribly awry about the moment he wakes up to Haley frantically licking his face.

“Wh—” he croaks, and then he feels the prickliness in his throat and the chills of a fever, and it explains the little dog’s anxious investigation as well as the concerned frown he finds on Dick’s face when he can finally look away from the dog.

“I think you caught something,” Dick informs him.

“No, I did—” Jason starts and then interrupts himself to cough. “Mother—” cough “—fucker.”

Dick doesn’t quite laugh at him, but his face does contort into a sympathetic and pitying smile. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Don’t laugh at me, I’m dying,” Jason protests.

“You’re not dying,” Dick says, and goes to get him coffee anyway.

“You go out in the rain without a hood or a helmet and you never get sick,” Jason grumbles.

“I built up a tolerance,” Dick replies. “It’s like why you shouldn’t stop kids from eating dirt. It helps them build their immune systems or whatever.”

“Is that why you—” cough, cough, pitiful hacking wheeze “—keep licking evidence at crime scenes?”

Dick doesn’t dignify that with a response, which Jason guesses is fair enough, and his next request is for Jason to lift his head. It makes his head throb, but he makes it most of the way upright. He accepts the coffee and doesn’t know what to do with himself when Dick sits down on the couch beside him, clicking on the tv and scrolling through the offerings. He lands on a nature documentary programme that’s probably something Damian loves, and seems perfectly content to just drink his coffee and watch the show while Jason convalesces on his couch.

Despite the caffeine, as soon as Jason’s done with his mug, he finds himself slipping sideways and losing physical integrity until he fully collapses with his head in Dick’s lap. He expects Dick to push him off or to stand up and leave him there to his misery, but instead, Dick’s hand falls to the side of his head and he starts absently running his fingers through Jason’s unruly hair. It’s so pleasant it very nearly puts Jason right to sleep again, but he doesn’t trust himself not to, like, sleep-drool onto Dick’s thighs and he doesn’t think he’d ever recover from that emotionally, so he doesn’t let his eyes shut, and keeps focusing on the screen while the narrator talks about deep sea octopuses and some pilot programme from a land university for their marine biology department to conference with Atlantean zoologists or whatever.

When the episode finishes, Dick stands and audibly winces when Jason lets his head fall to the couch without catching himself.

“Do you want—” Dick starts, exactly as Jason says, “Should I—”

“Go ahead,” Dick suggests, taking their mugs back to the coffee pot.

“Should I head back to Gotham?” Jason asks, and finishes the question with a cough.

Dick doesn’t respond right away, but when he comes back to the living room, he’s got both their mugs still.

“I was going to ask if you wanted me to order in some soup,” Dick says, and then stands pointedly next to the couch until Jason lifts his head up again to make space for him.

Jason has to use his new cup of coffee to swallow past the lump in his throat. “That, um, that sounds better than going back to Gotham.”

“Yeah,” Dick agrees and once he’s finished placing the order on his phone, he goes right back to running his fingers through Jason’s hair.

“You never invite any of the others back to your apartment to stay,” Jason says, and he’s thoroughly losing the fight to stay awake now.

“The others all invite themselves,” Dick points out. “And also?”

He stops talking when the title of the new episode pops up and tells them that it’ll be taking them on a guided tour of the mutated and weird fauna and flora found exclusively in Gotham! Dick fumbles for the skip button and Jason wheezes out a croaky laugh that’s half cough.

“I figure we both get enough first-hand experience with Gotham’s weird shit,” Dick explains.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees. “You were saying, and also…?”

Dick’s hand stills in his hair for long enough that it seems pointed. It takes some doing for Jason to twist far enough that he can see Dick’s face, but it’s worth it when he does. Dick is looking — gazing, really — down at him, with a small smile on his face. It makes Jason blush against his will, like he’s some kind of damsel, but worst comes, he figures he can blame it on being flushed from his cold.

“And also,” Dick says. “They’re not you.”

[teamconductors]

A Day Off: A PMD Lost Tracks of Time AU

Summary: During a weekend where the Battle Subway has shut down for maintenance, Ingo offers Mono a train trip, and Emmet wants to spend time with her at Nimbasa's amusement park.

Background: This is for the Swap AU (forgive the old art). After the events of LTOT, Sneasler is turned into a human and is sent back in time to Unova before Ingo got taken to Hisui.

In terms of timeline, this is after Sneasler aka Mono has established herself as a trainer, is roommates with Elesa, and got a job at the Battle Subway out of pity (or so she claims).

This is a long one. It could've been split, but I didn't want to.

Also, for clarity: Mono is Sneasler's name as a human. Everyone knows her as Mono, but the narration uses both Mono and Sneasler for her. Is that confusing? Maybe. But I'm too lazy to change it.

"Unbelievable," Sneasler said. She wished she figured out human technology by now. Perhaps if she had, she wouldn't have entered Gear Station at the typical early morning time and saw signs blocking the entrance to her workplace.

"Good morning, Miss Mono!"

"Morning, Ingo." Sneasler turned to see Ingo, who lacked his black Subway Boss coat and hat but still wore his button shirt and pants. "I know I'm here because I messed up, I guess. But why are you here?"

"I need to make sure that maintenance occurs as smoothly as possible!" Ingo said. "That said, I only need to do periodic checks. After I complete this first morning check, would you like to accompany me for a train ride around Unova?"

"Just you? Emmet's not coming?" Sneasler almost asked about Elesa but stopped herself upon remembering that she left Nimbasa for a fashion show.

"Since I accepted the responsibility to watch over the Battle Subway, Emmet decided to try alternate routes for his weekend. We work together and have many common interests, but we don't always need to be a two-car train."

Sneasler turned her head so Ingo wouldn't see her cringe. Before she was kidnapped out of her time, Emmet had gotten better about going on separate missions without Ingo. But the literal and metaphorical scars remained. Once in a while, Emmet would suffer a panic attack if Ingo - or Eelektross or even her - were away for too long. He hated that it was still an issue, and so did she. One day I'm gonna kick Arceus' ass for the pain they caused, she thought.

She shook off the mental damage to continue her questioning. "Are you gonna be okay being gone from the station for a while? How long's the trip?"

"Less than two hours! We will return to Gear Station by the end, and there are no stops in between. This is purely a scenic trip!"

"...Okay. Why me?"

"Does there need to be a reason?" Ingo's eyes widened. "Wait, do you have another activity scheduled?"

Sneasler shrugged. Had she known, she could have at least slept in - though that's easier said than done, considering her recent insomnia. "Not really. Sure, I'll do a train ride."

"Excellent! Allow me to finish what I need to, and we will be off!" Ingo sped-walked past Mono before she could ask where she should wait.

---

Sneasler didn't wait long for Ingo. He led her to the wing of Gear Station she seldom visited beyond the her first day in Unova and ended up on a train. Unlike the Battle Subway's trains, they offered plenty of benches and tables for guests to rest at. She and Ingo took a car with no one else in it. Ingo chose a table, and Mono sat across from him, putting her basket next to her on the bench.

"Did you make that basket? It appears well-made and well-cared for," Ingo asked.

"Uh, thanks. It's... an heirloom," Mono said. This is going be a painful ride, isn't it?

The journey began. They started underground, but soon they popped out of a tunnel near Driftviel City. It was Sneasler's first time outside of Nimbasa. The mining city vaguely reminded her of the dungeons near Cobalt Coastlands.

Ingo interrupted Sneasler's musing. "Is something the matter, Miss Mono?"

Sneasler realized she had been staring at him. "Uh, no! I, uh, haven't been sleeping well. That's all."

"Oh, I'm sorry that you've been having such roadblocks. Is there anything I can can for you? Does your schedule need to be changed?"

"Nope, my work schedule is fine." Much to her chagrin, Ingo and Emmet trained Sneasler well to wake up at dawn. Even before then, she preferred mornings and daylight to night. "Don't worry about it, alright?"

"My job is to transport talented trainers to greater heights, and that includes the trainers helping us as well. On that topic, how are your pokemon doing? If I remember, your current team is a Croagunk, a Riolu, and a Whirlipede."

"Wow, you actually remembered that?" Does he usually remember different trainers' teams like that??

"Well, you only recently became a trainer, am I correct? Our guests who have battled against you certainly couldn't tell! You've been performing fantastically so far!"

Croagunk, Whirlipede, and Riolu fight well on their own. I'm just there pretending to guide them. "Got lucky, I guess."

"I don't think it's luck, Miss Mono."

I found Croagunk after he got abandoned by his trainer. Riolu was a stray on the outskirts of Nimbasa and needed a home. And meeting Whirlipede was an accident.

"Please do not discount yourself."

I'm not a trainer. I'm not supposed to be here.

"I think your journey has only just begun."

One of the doors opened. An Audino with a cart walked to Ingo and Mono's table. On top of the cart sat a kettle and bowls with colored packets, tiny cartons of liquid, and small sticks. On the secondary shelf were stacks of cups. "I have coffee!"

"Miss Mono, the coffee is complimentary. There's also a dining kart if you'd like to fuel yourself." Ingo took the cup Audino offer him. "Thank you very much," he said to the pokemon.

"Uh, thanks." Sneasler accepted her own cup. She stared at the dark liquid inside as Audino placed cups with packets and tiny cartons and a couple sticks on the table. She brought the cup to her nose and sniffed.

"Do you like coffee, Miss Mono?" Ingo asked as he prepared his own cup.

"Coffee, huh?" She sniffed again. It didn't smell bad. "I've seen Elesa drink this stuff, but I haven't yet."

"Really? I'm surprised."

"She's offered, but I just didn't feel like it. But, uh... here I go, I guess." Sneasler brought the cup to her lips and took in a mouthful of the liquid.

She slammed the cup to the table and covered her mouth with her hand lest she spit everything over poor Ingo.

"Are you alright?!" Ingo yelled loud enough that Audino, who left for another car, opened the door and ran to Ingo and Mono.

Sneasler waved at both Ingo and Audino with her free hand as she swallowed. "I'm fine! I'm fine!" She looked at Audino, who had placed her feelers on her chest. "No really, I'm alright."

"Okay... But I hope what's making you sad goes away..." Audino retracted her feelers and returned to the other car.

I heard that. "Sorry, Ingo. It was just really, really bitter, and I didn't expect it. Smelled and tasted really different."

"Hm, you do run into surprises in a journey sometimes. May I try something?" Ingo pointed to Mono's cup.

"If you want it, take it." Sneasler grabbed napkins and began wiping up the coffee that splashed out when she slammed the cup down.

Ingo grabbed a packet and a tiny carton and poured their contents into the cup. "I find black coffee too bitter to fully enjoy as well. That surprises people, but I'm not sure why." He stirred the mixture together with a stirring stick and then offered it to Mono. "I added cream and sugar to your drink, which is how I like it. I hope this is more palatable for you."

Sneasler glanced between Ingo and the cup. She grabbed the cup with a delicate hold and slowly took a sip. She braced for the bitterness, but the sweetness calmed down the bitterness like a Light Screen reducing a Psychic's damage. "That's not... terrible. I don't think I'll be drinking much coffee, though."

"That's alright! You need to know what works best for you, just like how you need to know how to keep a machine well-oiled!"

Sneasler chuckled. "Everything comes back to trains for you, huh?"

"Well, trains are fascinating! The way they're made, how they work, how precisely you can make schedules and get everyone to where they want at the right time! Why else would Emmet and I format a battle facility in a series of them? On that line of thought, why did you decide to work specifically at Gear Station? You said you weren't a pokemon trainer, so was there another reason?"

He's conveniently leaving out the part of our first meeting where I said I knew them, but okay. "I... Listen, I'm not that good with technology. I can get the gist of things, but it'll take me a bit to get used to them. But... I... I have two younger brothers that love trains." Sneasler's eyes widened as soon as she registered what she just said, but she could not take that back. "And... it's really nice to hear them excited. They've shown me books about them because they think it's fun to talk about them to someone who doesn't know squat. ...For a lot of reasons, I haven't been able to see them, and the Battle Subway... reminds me of them." She blinked more frequently as something welled behind her eyes.

Ingo's signature frown softened. "I see... Well, I'm glad to have you ride with us, and I hope you see your brothers soon."

"Me, too."

Ingo and Sneasler decided in silence to watch the view as their train passed by different areas. They breezed through forests, went through mountain tunnels and over bridges, and witnessed the sky turn from orange to blue. Ingo made comments about cities and landmarks but was clearly less energetic than before.

By the time they passed through Undella Town, Sneasler groaned, making Ingo jump. "Holy rift, I made this trip so awkward. I am so sorry."

"Please do not apologize! This has not been awkward for me, but does that mean it was awkward for you?" Ingo asked, frowning deeply.

"C'mon, stop deflecting. I can't believe you've always been like this."

"What do you mean?"

"It's been a bad trip, and you know it. I can see it in your face." Sneasler pointed at Ingo and traces circles in the air.

"Really? I've been told that I'm rather stiff..."

"Compared to Emmet, yeah, but... I can still see it." Sneasler sighed. "Maybe it would've been better if you just did this on your own."

ingo hummed. "If you hadn't been at Gear Station, I most likely would have gone on this train by myself. While that would have made for a fine trip, journeys are made better when shared with others." He looked into Mono's eyes. "Miss Mono, I know that Elesa has been a great help for you, but please also know that Emmet and I are here to help you move forward to your destination!"

Sneasler rested her head on her hands. "And dramatic as ever, too. I'll never understand how you always say stuff like that so sincerely."

"My job is to transport passengers along their journeys to greater heights. Why wouldn't I be happy about what I do?"

"The more you talk, the more you keep using Dig." Sneasler laughed as Ingo got more confused. "It's not a bad thing, Ingo. Don't change that part of you, okay?"

Ingo's eyes widened. "I... Thank you, Miss Mono. I shall do my best."

The rest of the trip was quiet, but with the air cleared, they watched the scenery change in comfort. Though fascinated with the shifting landscapes and cities, Sneasler took glances at Ingo. His human face was slightly harder for her to read than his Sneasel face, but he definitely relaxed into his seat.

Ingo said something about liking train rumbling, right? I guess that's why. ...Have I ever seen him like this? My ancestor definitely didn't. He doesn't really relax on vacations either. Maybe the warden and rescuer stuff takes more out of him than he wants to say? I know he enjoys it, but that responsibility...

I really am going to kick Arceus' ass one of these days.

***

When they returned to Gear Station, Ingo left to check on the status of maintenance, and Sneasler returned to her temporary home and take a nap. She didn't know why her body hurt more than normal. She decided to blame it on her weird human body.

Elesa described her apartment as small, but to Sneasler, it was massive compared to Ingo and Emmet's old tent at the Pearl Guild. She also gave Mono her own guest room, but the train ride tired her out so much that she crashed onto the rectangular but plush couch in the living room. She fell asleep almost as soon as she closed her eyes.

The ringing of a bell woke Sneasler from her dreamless nap. She jumped to a sitting position, accidentally making Riolu and Croagunk fall off her and onto the floor.

"What the?" Sneasler cursed as she looked between the two dazed tiny pokemon and Whirlipede wrapped around her basket. "When did you guys get here?"

"Came outta our balls like an hour ago," Croagunk said.

"You looked comfy..." Riolu said.

The doorbell rang again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Sneasler combed her fingers through her hair to fix it. The ends curled back up to their usual position. She opened the door.

"I am Emmet. Hi there, Mono." Like Ingo, he did not wear his signature coat and hat, but his outfit was even more unfamiliar to Sneasler. His pants looked almost like normal ones, but the shirt had some sort of colorful floral pattern she didn't expect, let alone from him.

"Hi. Uh, if you're looking for Elesa, she's outta town right now," Sneasler said.

"I know. You have the day off, and so do I. Do you want to go somewhere with me?"

"First your brother, now you?! Is this some sort of new employee ritual thing, or...?"

"Not at all. I am just curious about you." Emmet smiled even more.

Sneasler sighed. "Alright, fine, I guess. Might as well. Why not?" She turned to her pokemon behind her. "You guys gonna be okay here?"

"You're not taking them with you?" Emmet stared intensely at Mono.

"Am... I supposed to?" Sneasler paused, then she added, "Are you gonna challenge me to a battle?!"

"Not today. For you safety, it is a good idea for pokemon trainers to have at least one pokemon with them at all times."

Why am I getting deja vu? "Alright. Everyone cool with coming with?" After a set of affirmative answers, she walked back to the couch where her basket rested next to. She kept her pokeballs inside, along with her hat and coat, the Toxic Plate, and other important items. "...Wait. Do you have a pokemon on you?"

"Of course!" Emmet said.

On cue, a Jotik popped his head out of the pocket on Emmet's shirt. "Hello!"

Sneasler stared at Emmet and Jotik in stunned silence. "Why am I surprised anymore?"

---

Emmet led Mono to Nimbasa City's amusement park while marching and swinging his arms straight, which was more impressive to witness compared to when he did it as a Sneasel.

"We have arrived at Ronde-View Ferris Wheel. Ronde-View Ferris Wheel," Emmet said while pointing at Mono.

"Elesa mentioned something about a "Ferris wheel". You just go around in a circle?" Sneasler asked.

"Correct. It is not a thrill ride, but they give us a good view of Nimbasa City. Are you afraid of heights?"

"No! I'm a rock climber, and you can't be a climber if you're afraid of heights!" Unless there's a bottomless Distortion World void beneath me, but that's just common sense.

"Rock climbing? Verrrry interesting." Emmet narrowed his eyes at Mono.

Sneasler narrowed her eyes back at him. "Yeah. Haven't done it in a while, though."

"Would you like to try today? A rock climbing wall was set up here recently."

"Wait, really? A wall that you just... climb? As a human?"

"'As a human'?" Emmet repeated.

"...Well, I'm just used to regular rocks and cliffs. That's all."

The ride operator stopped the wheel and let people exit a gondola. She approached the gate that Emmet and Mono stood at. "Hello! How many people do we have?"

"Two," Emmet said. "All aboard!"

The pokeball-shaped gondolas were large enough to fit at least four humans and maybe a few small pokemon. The pokeball designs were upside down, making the white half see-through for people to look out of. Mono stepped onto the gondola and got surprised when the floor gave under her weight.

"What the hell?!" Sneasler jumped backward, hitting Emmet with her basket. He quickly caught himself instead of falling.

"Oh, don't worry, Miss! Some of these cars can swing," the ride operator said. "If you'd like, you can wait behind the gate and the next car will stay still."

"That car would be preferable for both of us, I think. Please stand by, Mono," Emmet said, pointing to the line gate.

Sneasler reluctantly stood back and took the next gondola. To her relief, it remained still when she stepped onto it. She and Emmet took opposite seats. Once settled, the operator closed the door and started the ride.

"That was embarrassing," Sneasler said. "I just wanna say, I think the moving one would be fine. I just didn't expect it."

"You are fine, Mono. As I said, I like the cars that don't move. The wheel moves us, anyway." Emmet looked to their left. "I enjoy riding trains and running the Battle Subway. But I also like rides like this because I get a change in perspective."

"Change in perspective, huh?" Sneasler watched them slowly rise above the different buildings in the city. Previously, she could only get a view like this from climbing mountains or riding on Eelektross' back (though he couldn't for long). Not to mention that she mostly saw man-made buildings as ruins, as landmarks of times long past. Here, they were new and pristine.

"Now that our trip has begun, I need to ask you something," Emmet said. "Who are you?"

Sneasler blinked at him. "Is your memory alright? My name's Mono."

"You introduced yourself as Sneasler first."

Sneasler frowned. She mentally kicked herself for confusing Ingo and Emmet so much when they first saw each other. How was she supposed to know she ended up in Unova before Ingo went missing? "It's just a nickname. I mistook you two for someone else."

"Your nickname is the name of an extinct pokemon?"

"Extinct?!" No, wait, calm down! The Nobles weren't active when humans were around. Not extinct. Just in hiding. "I mean... yeah, weird name, it's a long story. And what does it matter?"

Emmet readjusted himself and leaned forward. "I'm just curious. You had a verrrry strong entrance. What is your goal? I want to see your track is going."

Sneasler groaned and put her head into her hands. "Why are you two like this? Ingo got done talking to me about basically the same thing!"

"Huh. I didn't know that. We took different lines but accidentally converged." Emmet smiled. "But I think he gets something different out of questions than I do. We see things differently, and that makes us strong together. I want to learn more! Where do you want your journey to go, Mono?"

"I..." Sneasler leaned back and lazily stared out the window to think. Talking with Ingo started this train of thought, and talking with Emmet needed to finish it.

I want to fucking go home. But I have no idea how to do that, so maybe if I get money, I can go to the Sinnoh region, find the Nobles of this era, and get them to help me. ...If I can find them. If they can get me in contact with Dialga or someone. Could they turn me back into a Sneasler? Ingo and Emmet kinda turned back, but they kinda didn't either. And there's no way I could become like what they are now!

"Mono?" Emmet asked. "Do you not have an answer? If so, that's fine. That's a valid feeling."

"No, I... I do, it's just..." There's no dungeons here. There's no Nobles or rescue teams or anything I know. I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know anything about being a trainer or being around humans. And just to top it all off, my body isn't mine anymore! Losing my memories would be a blessing at this point! Because at least I don't have to look at Emmet or Ingo and have them look back at me as a stranger!

The Ferris wheel stopped moving. Their gondola returned to ground level.

"Why are you crying?" Emmet reached into a different shirt pocket and offered Mono a tissue. "You really don't have to answer if you can't."

"Why do you care?! You don't even know me!" Sneasler stood up and grabbed her basket. She slammed open the cart and hopped over the exit gate. She looked down at the ground as she walked so that no one saw her tears.

She found a patch of grass and trees at the edge of the park. A shrill winding sound came from her basket, making her jump. Sneasler then nearly fall over as her basket got a heavy weight added inside that wasn't there before. After placing the basket down, she leaned on the tree and slid down to a sitting position. She covered her eyes with one hand.

"Sneasler?" Her Croagunk asked, having come out of his pokeball to face his trainer. "You wanna talk?"

"I am never gonna get used to that pokeball sound." She unlocked the latch on her basket and slapped the top off. "Why are you here?"

Croagunk popped his head out. "You're crying and stormed off from your friend and you're surprised I wanna ask why?"

Sneasler sighed. "Stop pretending you care. I only caught you so I could pretend I'm a trainer."

"You do realize that you totally are a pokemon trainer by now, between me and Riolu and Whirlipede?"

"I'm not a pokemon trainer!"

"Then what are you?"

"I... I don't know anymore, damn it! Like, I was just a Sneasel with a Noble mom. Then my mom died, I had to evolve to a Sneasler take over her title, which sounds great, but it's not! Because everyone wants you to be the ultimate rescuer with super strength and memories from past Nobles and other weird powers! And then a whole bunch of shit happened and everyone became convinced Ingo and Emmet are my younger brothers which is fine! I guess! Because pokemon and even the other Nobles started to respect me more!

"And then! AND THEN!" Sneasler took a deep breath. "Without an ounce of warning, I wake up! In a different time period! In a totally different world! I've never been around humans, I only have memories of them, and even THOSE are vague at best, and now I have to ACT like one?! I had claws for climbing, and now I have weak, soft fingers and nails that break under the slightest load! My back hurts if I carry my basket for too long which NEVER used to happen! I have to pretend to not know what every pokemon I hear is saying!" Sneasler pinched her cheeks. "And to top it all off, whoever did this to me decided to give me a face that looks like Ingo and Emmet's! But they don't know me! And they're the only people in this world I should know but I don't!"

Croagunk tilted his head to look at someone behind Mono and wave. "Hi there, Emmet."

Sneasler scrambled to standing position. Though absolutely terrified, she needed to see if Croagunk told the truth. Unfortunately for her, there Emmet stood, his face frozen and his smile open, wanting to say something but no sound coming out.

Sneasler recalled Uxie's description of when Arceus took Ingo: the world opened up below Ingo and Emmet. They were sucked down until the portal touched one of them and threw out the other. Since Arceus thought Ingo and Emmet were two of the same person, maybe they would think the same thing of her. If Arceus opened a portal right below her feet, she would fall in first and then touch the portal first and leave Emmet and Ingo alone. They're left behind while thinking they lost a weird employee. Nothing of value was lost. But that would mean she becomes a target of Chained Giratina. She could weather a blow if she was still a Sneasler, but as a weak, squishy human? She could die and be unable to return home. And Dialga would likely become upset at the time paradox this scenario would definitely make.

She would rather face an enraged Dialga than explain to Emmet what he just heard.

"...How much of that did you get?" Mono asked, voice just above a whisper.

"Not all of it, I think," Emmet said. "...Do you want another few days off? There's some new tech in Paldea. There's something about being able to feel what it's like to become a pokemon."

Sneasler's face started to turn red. "If I'm flying somewhere, I'd rather go someplace else." Namely, the Sinnoh region. "And right now? I'd rather go home. Just forget everything, okay? Forget everything I ever said, and I'm not bothering you or Ingo ever again, okay?!"

Emmet placed a hand on Mono's shoulder. "You are not the first human who wants to be a pokemon. I've thought about it when I was younger."

Sneasler facepalmed. Somehow, that's worse than if he found out the truth. But at least that means he's not paying attention to me "knowing" him. "Emmet. I'm asking a lot as someone you don't know well." She grabbed his shoulders. "But please don't tell people about this. It's... embarrassing."

"Sure." He presented the tissue that he tried to offer her before. "Once you are ready, do you want to try that rock climbing wall? Would that help you feel better?" Emmet pointed in the direction of the attraction.

Sneasler sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. She took his tissue and cleaned up the leftover tears. "It might, it might not, but you'll know either way, I guess??" She grabbed her basket, surprised it wasn't as heavy as before. Croagunk returned to the ball, I guess. "Let's go. All aboard, conductor."

A short walk later, Sneasler saw what Emmet talked about. Calling it a wall for climbing would be generous at best. It was maybe 15 meters high, adorned with candy-colored rocks, and surrounded by soft-looking mats.

"You sure it's for adults? Adult humans?" Sneasler asked. She imagined her mom using a wall like that to teach her how to climb.

"Of course it is." Before waiting for a reply, he walked to the line.

Oh. He just wants to try climbing. That's why he's still hanging out with me. May as well join him and make sure he doesn't hurt himself. Sneasler sighed and followed behind Emmet.

Different humans - some kids, some adults - stepped up for the opportunity to climb. They wrapped straps around their waists, which connected to a pulley and then to the operator's pokemon, a Sawk and a Throh. Some people didn't reach the top, but those that did rang a bell hanging there next to some Pidoves. The human running the area had a remote connected to a couple timers. Even small pokemon were allowed to give it a shot, though she noted that none of them were natural climbers.

"We're next. All aboard!" Emmet said as the gate opened to let them in.

"Do you know how to climb, Emmet?" Sneasler asked. The mats squished under her feet, confirming her suspicion of being soft.

"No, but trying could be fun!" Emmet smiled even more.

"Whoa, you already have a harness?" The operator asked, looking at Mono.

"Unbelievably, yes," Sneasler said. When she woke up in this world, she wore the coat and hat the twins gifted her and her basket that still contained the Poison Plate. All the other clothes she arrived in were already on her person: the shirt with a fluffy collar, pants, boots, and fake gemstone decorations. She didn't even know what the harness was until Elesa explained it.

The operator hooked her and Emmet to the safety system and then gave them tips for climbing that Sneasler did not listen to. She stared at her hands. This isn't gonna end well. There's too many humans around looking at us. Is it because of Emmet? I haven't tried climbing with this body yet, but I hate not having my claws. Is this how they felt in their Sneasel bodies?

"Uh, miss? Don't you want to take off your backpack?" the operator asked.

"Nope." Sneasler readjusted her basket for stability. "You ready, Emmet?"

Emmet nodded. "Follow the rules. Safe driving! Follow the schedule. Everybody smile!"

As soon as Emmet began reciting his mantra, Sneasler joined in without even thinking about it. When she realized what she was doing, she turned her head to Emmet, who stared back with wide eyes as he kept going. Sorry Emmet, you've said it so much that it burrowed into me.

"Check safety. Everything's ready! Aim for victory! All aboard!" Emmet and Mono finished together. The operator wisely decided to start the timer right then.

Sneasler jumped and grabbed two rocks. She tapped her nails against the colored rocks protruding from the gray wall, hearing and feeling an unnatural hardness and hollowness. Her fingers couldn't dig into the material. She placed her feet on two rocks, and even though she couldn't feel them through the boots, it was sturdy enough to support her weight.

One foot up. Her leg extended, and she grabbed higher rocks. Another step gave her more height. And another. The colored rocks looked like child's play, but they provided a clear, stable path despite their strange and varied shapes. Her body was weaker, but it possessed enough strength to keep her grip and climb at a steady pace. Even as the steepness increased, she was too focused to let it slip her up.

Before she knew, the bell hanged right above her head. With her feet and hands firmly planted, she grabbed the rope and rang the bell for all to hear.

"YES! I can still climb!" In Sneasler's elation, she lost her grip on the wall. She half-expected a certain ghost's Psychic to catch her, but instead, a tug on her harness indicated that the operator's pokemon held her rope, letting her hang in the air. Below her came claps and cheers, but she looked down to find one person in particular.

"You won! That was fun! You did great, Mono!" Emmet near-shouted. He managed to climb halfway up the wall, which Sneasler did not expect, given his thin frame. He let go of the wall without an ounce of fear.

When they were lowered and touched ground, the operator ran at Sneasler. "You climbed that wall in 15 seconds! That's a new record! What's your name, miss?"

"Uh... Mono." I could've done it in half that time if I was still a Sneasler.

"Thank you for climbing with us! Here's your prize!" The operator reached into a pack connected to his belt and pulled out four tickets.

Sneasler snatched the pieces of paper. "Free... Casteliacone... voucher?" She looked at Emmet. "The hell's a Casteliacone?"

"It's a soft serve ice cream. You can get them in Castelia City, which is south from Nimbasa City," Emmet said.

"Oh. Nice." She turned to the operator. "Uh, thanks, I guess."

After Mono and Emmet left the rock climbing area, they found a bench next to a dedicated space to let their pokemon roam. Besides the Joltik from his pocket, Emmet also let Archeops, Durant, and Crustle. Croagunk and Riolu hanged out in their own area, but Whirlipede ran with Archeops for a race - which Sneasler overheard.

"Do you feel better now, Mono?" Emmet asked.

"Kinda." Her fingertips turned red and tough from the exertion. She turned her palm around to stare at the design of her fingerless gloves. "...Sorry for getting mad at you."

"You're not the first. But that climb was amazing. I was hoping for a competition, but I completely lost. It was so fun!" Emmet said. "Yep. You're definitely someone I want to watch for more than one reason. These are the only three pokemon you have?"

"Yep. I have my hands pretty full right now. Why?" she asked, but she already knew what his answer would be.

"When you find a fourth, you should try working for me on the Doubles Line."

"...When? Not if?" Sneasler turned to Emmet and raised an eyebrow.

"Correct. And when you get stronger, you should face me in a battle - after you face 20 trainers first, that is." Emmet smiled even wider.

Sneasler sighed. "You really were always like this, too, huh?"

"Yes? One day, you should also tell us why you act so casually with me and my brother!"

"I said you needed to forget that!" Sneasler once again promised herself to kick the butt of Arceus and whoever is responsible for her predicament.

[captainpoopweinersoldier]

An Acquired Taste | Jake x FReader

Synopsis: You bring Jake to Long Island's Oyster Fest

Tags: Voyeurism if you squint, with a light dash of angst; Alcohol consumption; Smoking

Words: 9.3K

And thank you to @ursulaismymiddlename who deals with my Jake fixation with nothing but grace.

Link to AO3

There’s not much of a fully formed memory left over from the previous night, except for the little inconsequential detail that it was meant to be an early one. 

It had been a typical Saturday evening shift. Fast-paced, stressful, and with the forever presence of snobby clientele. Though, in the restaurant's defense, most of the work week flowed with a similar rotation. But last night was the first Saturday in years you wouldn’t dare keep track of where the Sunday that followed was a day off, and apparently that translated to being amenable to the notion of getting fucked up.

That wasn’t the plan originally. Originally, you were meant to call it immediately after closing. You didn’t even dare to attempt partaking in shift drinks, simply vanished to the lockers to stuff any dirty laundry in a bag because dammit you’d get an early start to said day off and be able to freely partake in a chore and the event you had taken the day off for in the first place. 

That was until a certain bartender asked if you’d be going to Home Bar, and fuck if he didn’t have a face you could say no to. 

You’re sat next to him now, feeling like a teenager as the pair of you among a crowd of strangers get crammed onto a school bus headed for downtown Oyster Bay. 

“Is someone a little too hungover?” he murmurs into your ear. And maybe it’s not just the bus that makes you feel like an adolescent girl. The seats are too narrow, meant for literal children. And Jake is practically on top of you in the small space.

When you glance up at him, the rim of your sunglasses brush the sharp-edged jut of his cheek and, in your stupor, you try desperately not to stare at his lips. 

You grin reassuringly, even if the chatter surrounding you seems a little too loud at the moment. It’ll get better once you’re let outside and don’t have the odor of pervasive burning rubber and oil combined with the heady scent of him flooding your senses, you’re certain. “I’m fine, came and got you didn’t I?” 

He tilts his head back in appraisal, lips slightly parted as he considers his response. Unlike you, sunglasses don’t cover his eyes, so the striking blue hue of them is a perfect sea struck by sunlight anyone could drown in. 

“Good,” he settles on. Then somewhat reluctantly adds - “Because I uh -” there’s a huffing noise akin to a chuckle that hones your attention more than anything thus far. It’s sheepish, almost. “I’m actually. I’ve been looking. Forward -”

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t fuckin’ say anything.”

You bite your lip to temper the expression growing on your face. “Is - is Jake excited about something?” 

“No,” he says quickly. But his voice is soft, so soft in fact that you can barely hear it over the sliding doors of the bus slamming to a close and the engine revs, beginning its departure from the local train station. Jake shifts in the seat; consequentially pressing you closer to the window and his eyes dart around and he can deny all he wants but it’s weak and you don’t believe him in the slightest. You can’t help but wonder when was the last time he’d gotten out of the city. Away from the restaurant, or had maybe done something he truly enjoyed that goes against the fucking thick facade he dons daily.

But when his gaze seeks out yours once more, it’s almost like he can read your thoughts. Get the gist of your own excitement for him, the hangover actively taking a steady backseat to the fact that you’re treating him to something with such good effect. He visibly relaxes, eyes flitting about your face. 

“Don’t talk.” 

You’ll take that. Perfectly content with spending the ride watching the town pass by through the window with him comfortably pressed against you. A win’s a win.

~

It’s right in the middle of October, and as much as you love living in the city, one of the few things you actually miss about Long Island is witnessing the more flush change in season. Summer weather is a thing of the past, bleeding into the picturesque full bloom of autumn. What was green is now vibrant yellows and luscious reds. When it’s bright and sunny like today, the temperature is just warm enough that one doesn’t need a coat, and then fades into cozy crisp air under the blanket of night. 

IIt’s your favorite time of the year, and just so happens to coincide with Oyster Fest. 

The annual festival practically shuts down the entire town while thousands of people flock in attendance. Traffic is barely more than a halted complete stop, there isn’t a lick of parking for miles, and sidewalks brim with activity as bars, restaurants and shops all remain open for business, and the swarm only thickens once the bus deposits its passengers between a clearing of town parks and baseball fields located directly beside the Bay. 

To the immediate right are typical fair attractions; cheap fried foods and beer, a Ferris Wheel among other classic yet suspiciously rickety rides, including a Funhouse and the Zipper. Scattered snugly among them are grids of carnival game stations and - at this early hour of the afternoon - it is entirely overrun with families and groups of teenagers. 

But straight ahead lies the main attraction. Metal barricades form a path that leads the crowd, and you with Jake in tow, to the cleared out lots ahead. Except it’s not so clear now, quite the opposite. The heads of dozens of booths stick out atop the throngs of people. Each one ran, you know, by various vendors from all over the tri-state area, and each one selling anything from varieties of food, to homemade goods and trinkets. 

The layout is roughly the same as you remember and the medley of aromas make you salivate. Being hungover is a bygone thing and instead, your stomach growls with a not so subtle rumble thanks to opting against breakfast that morning. You pass a knowing look over your shoulder, eyeing Jake with interest, only to find delight in the way he surveys the landscape of food, drink, and the sparkling view of the Long Island Sound posing as a charming backdrop to it all.

“Oysters for days, but I’m assuming you want to hit that first?” 

The hint of a rare, genuine smile is nothing short of chuffed before he’s even looked at you, and when he does, it’s as he draws on a pair of shades.

“Desperately.” 

Maneuvering through the herd of people is no easy feat. It’s all high energy and excitement; even at a distance from across the lot, the voice of a miked up emcee booms from the main stage and an audience roars over an oyster eating or shucking competition. Queues are nearly indistinguishable as you pass through a section dedicated to gumbo and jambalaya, clam chowder and lobster bisque. You almost trip over a leashed dog and instinct makes you reach a hand out behind you, not wanting to get separated, and Jake takes it without question, letting you steer him ahead. 

The soft weight of it feels so natural tucked around yours that it barely becomes a distraction like it might’ve in any other circumstance. Not until you reach the tented area closest to the pier. There’s a swirling assembly line of people waiting to approach it like they would a ride in a theme park and you sidle in once a gap reveals itself. Only then do you fret over having to let his hand go because - well - you don’t particularly want to.

"Uh, hello?"

And just like that, the moment is over. Both of your heads simultaneously turn toward the sound of the annoyed voice and find a group of boys behind you. The one in front gestures vaguely, eyebrows raised as he huffs impatiently.

"There's like, a line going on here? You have to wait in line."

The snappy intrusion was annoying on its own, but now you're fucking hungry and mere moments away from delicious relief; you stiffen at the accusation with a flood of irritation.

"The fuck's it look like we're doing?" you snap back without hesitation. 

Jake snorts at your outburst, but otherwise it appears to be effective as the guy's body language seems to relax.

"Shit, alright. My bad."

You scoff and turn back around to catch up to the pace of the line ahead, and when you stop, Jake presses close enough to your backside that he can lean down to speak subtly along the rim of your ear. 

"You're either very confident, or you just totally cut the line without realizing."

"Hm?" His deep voice makes your skin tingle, a sensation you’ve well practiced to endure over time. "Wait. What?"

"I mean, I don't fuckin' mind. That was kind'a cute. I think you scared him."

"Are you serious-?" 

You chance a glance back, grateful for wearing sunglasses so that you can look around inconspicuously. And sure enough, the line continues much farther back than where you started. Significantly farther.

"Oh my god, I swear I had no idea-"

"Shhh.. Just keep walking," Jake's hands are on your shoulders with a gentle nudge forward, not remotely trying to contain his amusement while you flush with mortification. "We're committing now."

Indeed you are, but quite frankly - and yes, cutting is bad, it's rude, you'd tell anyone off for doing the same - it ultimately works out for the best and with very little regret because a moment later, you're blanketed by the shade of the expansive tent.

Beneath it lie rows of picnic tables, one after the other, and dozens of volunteers flit around in a blur of quick movements as oysters come piling in on trays by the (literal) boatful. They work in practiced motions, cleaning and shucking and plating the morsels, while others working the counters tend to visitors and shuffle around whole wads of cash. 

It's a five for five deal, and the operation is so speedy that before you know it, you've handed over a ten dollar bill and come away with two plates and a lemon slice each. There’s a condiment station just outside the tent’s perimeter, and while Jake walks past it - you know he prefers his oysters straight up - you stop for hot sauce and a dollop of horseradish, some napkins and a fork just in case. 

He meanwhile moseys over to a space out of the way of foot traffic over by the pier, making for quite the sight. And by it, you definitely don’t mean the water. Jake is dressed in his usual attire, a leather jacket and jeans combination. But today he surprised you with a button up-shirt printed with a variety of colors woven into wild patterns that somehow manages to actually work, and it’s up for debate if it’s because of the shirt itself or because it’s him. When you’d arrived at his apartment earlier, you’d done a triple take, unable to recall ever seeing him wear color at all - which of course was received with a smartass remark. 

But the sunlight reflected off the surface of the water casts Jake in a perfect halo as if he’s being showcased. Skin opalescent in its brightness, throat bare to the mild air as he tilts his head back and raises an oyster to his rosy-pink lips. 

You were fucked, but you save face as you approach, content to be happy with how he appears to be enjoying himself while he too balances two plates on one hand.

“They meet your exceptional standards?” you sass.

“Yes,” he states, simple and firm, and you finally take the pleasure of digging into your own. 

With the slice of lemon, you squeeze a healthy trickle of juice over the shells, poke a morsel with a fork to be sure it’s properly shucked, then pick the first one up. Your mouth is already watering by the time it reaches your lips and you knock it back with a gentle slurp. It greets you at once with a flavor both briny and sweet, mingling with the spicy tang of the hot sauce, lemon and horseradish, all wrapped up with a pleasantly refreshing chill that resonates deep within your gullet. 

“Better than the restaurant,” he continues; your mumbled agreement is unintelligible as you rush for seconds. “Better than the Cape, though?” You peer up at him suspiciously, slowly chewing around your next mouthful. He’s starting to reek of mischief and tilts his head in mocking consideration. “I don’t know, can’t make up my mind.” 

“Is someone sounding a little competitive?” 

Jake grins and you’re relieved his eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. “Of course not.”

“This is because of the clam chowder, isn’t it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, bound to have seen the booth.

You mull over a response and suck down another oyster. “I suppose a lobster roll is out of the question?” 

“I didn’t say that.” He suddenly steps closer; you need to crane your neck a little higher to look up at him, and then his hand closes the distance between you. His thumb grazes somewhere below the curve of your lip, swiping at some wayward remnant of lemon juice or briny moisture or who cares what, only to draw it back to his mouth where he flicks at it with the tip of his tongue. “I’m still hungry.”

~

Not a single coherent thought graces your mind with its presence, and if possible he seems further delighted by this. He lights up with a smile before grabbing your hand, and it’s a struggle to find your footing and keep the rest of your oysters upright when he drags you along. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Once some proper food is in your stomachs, it’s decided that splitting up is the best option to cover more ground. Oysters may flow constantly throughout the weekend, but historically it’s not unheard of for other vendors to sell out of supply before the day is over. And as the crowd only peaks as the afternoon goes on, Jake is surprisingly up to task and it is.. Nice.

When it comes to the restaurant, there is no doubt that with the long hours, post-shift late night outings, and occasionally the spaces in between, that those you work with consume the majority of your life. But Jake is.. Different. Admittedly, he’s an asshole, with a wickedly dry sense of humor and a passing dislike for the general public. Things you aren’t necessarily opposed to. Things that, admittedly, you have in common. You like him. He’s an actual friend. It just so happens that sometimes you want him a little bit more than that. 

It is a fact that you are more than content to deal with, even if today makes it more of a challenge. Today is more than the shared cigarette breaks and the moments of hiding out in the walk-in, and it feels a far cry still beyond those late night outings with the rest of the crew. This is proper fucking bonding and perhaps it would be less daunting if Jake didn’t appear to be enjoying it so fucking much.

You take turns holding a place in line while the other will wander off in search of something else, only to reconnect immediately after to split the reward, sharing quite literally, whether it be off the others’ plate or via an outstretched hand. The strategy sees you through to the aforementioned clam chowder (a satisfying win as Jake - who adamantly refused to approve of the creamy soup - wound up stealing the last ounce of it by snatching your wrist to guide the final spoonful toward his greedy mouth), grilled scallops and octopus, steamed mussels, and eventually a lobster roll.

At other times you merely stand aside and watch as Jake schmoozes with vendors. He asks questions with an uncharacteristic interest, oozing enough charm that they inevitably offer up a small sample of something to taste for free. 

The oyster tent remains a frequented spot. The queue has grown; has more than doubled in size since your initial stop, even as it manages to maintain the assembly line pace. Two pints of locally brewed beers are cradled close to your chest as you depart what’s considered the designated alcohol tent. It’s separated from the rest of the festival, an enormous setup that requires a stamp on the wrist to gain entry. Inside is cold beer on tap, a limited selection of Long Island wines, and a projector screen that will air this week’s Sunday night football. The crowd packed inside is far from small.

You bob and weave your way back to where Jake waits, ready to purchase another ten or so oysters (you both lost count after thirty), slipping through a thicket of people so dense that you focus on keeping the drinks upright, and don’t so much as notice the two young women chatting him up - until you’re just a few arms lengths away and come to an abrupt halt.

Well, fuck.

It’s being too used to seeing this type of scene play out that makes you check the time, a part of you wondering if Jake’s about to bail and disappear with the both of them. In your defense, it wouldn’t be the first time; his reputation precedes him and it certainly isn’t unearned. His ability to attract may sometimes seem beyond the point of his own control - you’ve often wondered if it comes with the territory of being a bartender - but he has never been above easily taking what’s thrown his way either.

Their appearances likely mean little to Jake, he’s nondiscriminating that way. But upon second glance, you are all too familiar with their type. One of them is a tall brunette, the other a softball-built-yet-petite blond. Both clad head to toe in yacht club gear: pleated shorts and polo shirts, brown leather boat shoes. Even their headbands practically match in bright elastic shades of pastel. 

They’re North Shore girls. And a guy like Jake tempts in the form of parental rebellion and a potential connect for drugs. Whatever reservations you briefly experience are brushed aside, and now there’s little hesitation as you sidle up beside him, interrupting their conversation with a light nudge against his elbow. 

“Your beer,” you announce, with eyes only for him. 

Jake looks down at you, head cocked with a knowing grin. There’s something soft there too, difficult to see through the sunglasses, but you can sense it nonetheless. 

“Thanks, babe,” he says, voice a gentle rumble. He takes the beer and before you know it, his arm is wound across your shoulders and he leans in, ducking down until those rosy lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. 

There are few times you find yourself grateful for drunken mishaps of the past, and this split second happens to be one of them. For if you hadn’t kissed Jake prior to this, hadn’t felt the silk of his lips caught in a suspended moment of pleasure, perhaps the effect could melt you to your knees. As it stands, your lashes flutter across the tips of his cheeks. Without bidding, your mouth responds, drifting along the seam of his, and it’s lucky he moves with it even if it’s smugness you sense that drives him. 

For a second you almost manage to forget what’s brought this on, but then there’s that prickling sensation of being watched. By a pair of ogling stares, specifically. You force yourself apart from Jake and clear your throat, grateful your voice is stronger than you could’ve guessed as you survey his current company. “Making friends?”

The girls emit enough dismay at your arrival to stroke an ego, but not without a glare and a roll of their eyes. The brunette crosses her arms under her chest with a drawl of - “We were just talking,” while the blonde ignores you completely, focusing on Jake with an accusatory - “You didn’t mention -”

“My girlfriend,” Jake finishes smoothly, and you resist the urge to balk at him. “She’s showing me around her hometown.” 

“Close enough,” you retort dryly. Your actual hometown is out farther east, a little detail that matters to precisely no one at the moment. Apart from your arrival, your presence is barely acknowledged. The twin glares stay trained on Jake, put out and bitter as they half turn to catch up with the rest of the line. “Maybe we’ll see you around.” 

“That was salty,” you snark once they’re out of earshot. Though not quite out of sight, as you both trail slowly behind them. “I’m your girlfriend now?”

He doesn’t outright laugh, but from being nestled against him (his arm has stubbornly stayed in place), you can feel something close to it as he mulls it over.

 “Consider us even.”

You scoff and sputter immediately. “That was one time!” The time in question being at a disco, of all places. A creep had been harping on getting your number and then some. Everyone was too busy dancing to notice except for Jake who - thanks to his antisocial tendencies - was reliably stationed at the bar. He was more than welcoming to your advances, and the strange man left you alone after that. 

“Works pretty fuckin’ well though, huh?”

He’s not wrong, you admit, and relent a little at that. “Fine. I’ll allow it.” And if you feel emboldened by both the title of endearment and the public display of affection, well, you will simply refuse to look at it much more deeply than that… Even if, admittedly, your voice comes out a little flirty when you go on to add - “But if I’m your girlfriend, then that makes this a date and -”

Jake’s pained groan echoes inside his cup as he takes a long pull of beer. 

“And we’re at a festival which means you have to win me a prize at one of those shitty carnival games.” 

He stops short, forcing you to stop with him, and fixes you with a glare. It lasts a breath too long, but you stand your ground, refusing to give under the weight of it, when eventually -

“I fuckin’ rock at shitty carnival games.”

Your face splits with a grin, and a smirk tugs at his. 

“Guess you’re gonna have to prove it.”

~

But before any games, there is one last stop that can’t be missed: a lobster dinner for a measly twenty bucks. No such deal would exist anywhere either on Long Island or back in the city, and anyone who deemed themselves a lobster lover would be foolish to pass up on the offer. One that likely wouldn’t last much longer this late in the day.

So when you manage to anxiously outlast the line, you’re grateful once you both walk away with a plate each in hand, and for the last iota of room in your belly that still has an appetite. 

The both of you assume a spot at a picnic table - few and far between, and shared with a trio of friends who occupy the opposite half - with Jake perched on top of it, and you sat on the bench beside his legs. In near silence now as you chow down as if eating hasn’t been the sole productivity of the day. The lobster is perfectly steamed, not dry, an error all too easy to make, and with a half-ear of corn and quarter-pound cup of melted butter as accompaniments.

There is a nagging thought, though. One you’ve been mulling over since parting ways with the two obvious up-to-no-good snobs. You peer up at Jake while you finish chewing, already moving on to cracking open a claw, having an inner debate on whether it’s worth it or not to bother mentioning. Jake is.. Well, private isn’t exactly the correct term. In the time you’ve known him, he can be almost too open with certain topics once you get him talking. But it’s rarely too personal, the deep down nitty gritty. And depending on what mood he’s in, he’ll either shut down completely, or bite your head off.

But the day so far has turned in a direction you hadn’t predicted. It’s gone better, much better than you could’ve hoped for when you first took the plunge in inviting him to come with. And in any case, his mood is as good as you’ve ever seen it. His fingers work the lobster tail apart, lips pursed in concentration, an oily sheen to them from the butter and eventually he pauses to take a few gulps of beer. 

He looks fucking gorgeous and you can’t stand it and fuck it -

“So,” you start, noncommittally at first. And you can only tell he’s listening by the raise of his brows. “I.. can’t help but notice that. Y’know.. You didn’t run off with those girls.” 

There’s little reaction to that. The upraised brows drop, he lets out a small huff before forking a couple of bites into his mouth. “You thought I was what - that I was gonna leave you here? Have a fuckin’ coke bender with them? Get laid?” 

“Oh, I knew it!” you snap a tad overzealous. “Sorry. I fucking knew they wanted drugs. Anyway.”

Jake snorts, unbothered by the outburst. “Yeah, I’ve seen the type. They fuck you for drugs, and then their frat sized boyfriends just happen to show up. Conveniently in time to kick the shit out’a you. Rob you, obviously. I like my asshole where it is, thanks.”

You hum around a mouthful of lobster. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

“Or maybe I just know a thing or two about a thing or two,” he sasses back. He takes a bite of his corn on the cob, an act that has no business being attractive and yet -

“People like that over there too, huh?” you ask out of curiosity, and he nods slowly.

“Starting to think this place isn’t too different from the Cape.” 

“Aw, I can see why you miss it so much...” Another thing you have in common; you both happen to share a resounding hatred for where you’re from. The sarcastic remark draws his attention, fixing you with a stare so amused you actually wish he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, simply to see the sharpness of his blue eyes. 

“And I, uh.. I wouldn’t leave you like that.” He speaks slower now, enunciating his words as if it might almost pain him to admit, and eventually he looks away. “I’m actually - enjoying myself. With you. Today. And I don’t feel like pretending.” 

His phrasing sprouts about a dozen or so other questions at once, spurring sudden whiplash in your mind. Interest piques to the point you have to forcibly temper the urge to press him for more, likely to ruin the moment altogether. And in any case, more importantly, lies the admitted sentiment. It's, dare you say, heartwarming. Surprising. 

But you also know that if you acknowledge it aloud, he’ll tell you to fuck off. 

You smile at your plate instead. There’s just the one claw left now. It’s your favorite part, one you would normally savor, except you realize you’ve been slowly picking it apart with your fingers into little tiny unrecognizable pieces, distracted. 

“I wasn’t gonna let you wander off with them anyway. So.”

“Is that right,” Jake asks, and you glance up at him again just to find he casts down an unnaturally bright smile. He’s teasing you. “Feeling jealous?”

“Terribly,” you drawl, but the feigned glare hardly sticks once you can hear him chuckling. “No, I just - I guess I fucking hope that’s not your type, but either way I could tell exactly what they wanted from you. And I didn’t. Want that, I mean.”

“You were protecting me.” Jake muses, and a retort is ready at your teeth that he requires no such protection. But then the fleeting image of a certain tall blond floats to mind like an old bad dream, and you have to stomp it down before it can rise to the surface. Focus instead on quelling the angst that worries at your food. At the more pleasant low timbre of Jake’s voice, not quite done talking. You realize he’s in the middle of a thought you’ve missed the first half of only to catch the tail end. “So why haven’t we?”

“Haven’t what?” you ask cluelessly, in the midst of losing said stress to several healthy swigs of some Long Island pale ale. 

“Why haven’t we had sex?” 

It’s asked so casually, so passive and without hesitation that you choke mid-gulp. There’s a split second of panic, a flashing image of splattering beer all over yourself, and somehow you force yourself to swallow. Nothing more than a few dribbles pass the corners of your lips, and you smear them away with the back of a shaky hand. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you wheeze.

Jake doesn’t laugh at you, not out loud anyway. But there is a noticeable bounce to his shoulders. “Cool. If that’s the term you prefer. Why haven’t we fucked?” 

The glare you send him this time is real, even if it’s less impactful over the rim of your cup. You chug the rest of its contents to ease away the scratchy rasp in your throat. It’s not like you’ve never discussed sexual things with him before, being friends for a time and well - him being him, it’s sort of inevitable. It’s just never been directed toward you, or rather, the two of you together. To the point where on more than one occasion, you’ve been referred to as the girl he ‘skipped’. Equally frustrating and weirdly resonating inadequacy when you feel -

Nope. Not doing that. You slam the empty cup on the table and take the first normal, deep breath you’ve had in recent minutes.

“You’re not available,” you finally tell him.

“I’m not,” he says, clearly disagreeing. 

“Not in the way I need.”

He hums in consideration. “The way you need… That’s what - emotions? Romantic shit? How stimulating.” 

Also exactly the opposite of how he maneuvers through his own entanglements, and so begs the question how it could possibly pertain to you - if that really is something he’s contemplated before. You cock your head at him, absolutely mystified while he’s predictably nonplussed. He drops his plate next to your empty cup, bare to the bones, before gathering the collective trash, and climbs off the picnic table to toss it away. And when he returns, it’s with an outstretched hand, beckoning.

“Let’s go. We can’t leave until I win you something.”

The irony of the situation is not lost on you as you take it, and once again let him pull you along.

~

As it happens, Jake was not kidding when it came to being good at carnival games. 

It starts at the bottle toss booth, a simple enough concept that when he wins the first round on a single throw, you assume it’s a fluke. But then there’s the second round, and the third, and a fourth for (showing off) good measure - and each time without fail, Jake knocks out every bottle on the first throw. He moves on to balloon darts after that and to your (and the booth operator’s) astonishment, Jake is an image of poise, sipping his beer while popping any balloon he aims at. 

“What.. the fuck?” is all you can say as you watch in awe. Of course, you’ve done miserably; haven’t landed any darts, and you could barely even keep up with the bottle toss. But Jake simply looks pleased with himself, providing no explanation to this hidden corner of his personality. Instead, he peruses over the strung up stuffed animals that make up his winnings.

“Which one do you want?” he asks. When you have a hard time finding your voice to answer, he picks out an oversized teddy bear and shoves it into your arms. And for a moment, he doesn’t quite let go. He blinks down at you and you curse the removal of his sunglasses, something about concentration. The icy blue practically glitters beneath the multicolored flashing lights of festival attractions, and all you can do is stand there, dumbly transfixed. 

A slow smile overtakes him. “Next loser buys the drinks.” 

Another series of wins follow in quick succession. You take turns at a variety of shooter games which, lucky for you, requires slightly less skill. Jake may still get first place, but it’s you who shouts in triumph when you don’t come dead last in a water gun race. 

The classic ring toss is the only obstacle that gives him a challenge. A few dollars spent gets a large bucket of little discs that have technically been made to fit around the mouth of a liter sized bottle, but they never quite stick the landing. Jake insists the strategy is all in how it’s thrown, and though he has his own handful of misfires, eventually he smoothly tosses the rings like he would skipping rocks and lands several back to back. 

It’s impressive enough to warrant some cheers from onlookers; other players who are about as successful as you in their attempts. All the while, Jake’s gloating is a quiet kind; he tilts his head and bats his eyelashes at you, and frankly you’re too astonished to mind.

“You’re like, amazing,” you tell him. 

He straightens immediately like he’s been pinched, and the rosy blemish that suddenly warms his cheeks is all the smug victory you need.

What started simply with just a teddy bear turns into a giraffe with cartoonishly wide plastic eyes. Then a big blue shark with felt teeth, and finally largest of all, a neon green snake with a frilly pink tongue. It's so long, it curls over Jake’s shoulders and still almost brushes the ground while he waits for you to return from the bathroom. 

It’s a sight you have to pause and photograph to memory; notoriously moody, scowling Jake wrangling cute stuffed animals in a chokehold while he smokes a cigarette. You try to keep from laughing but the alcohol in your system does nothing to help. You’re not completely toasted, no, but the buzz in your veins keeps your face flushed, and you cannot stop smiling as you make your way back to him.

The pair of you had lost complete track of time while the afternoon lost itself to twilight, and the Sound now reflects the glowing blues and purples of the sky. Nearby, the school buses are still on their rotation. Families climb on board with their children to depart for things like dinner. Most of the food vendors have closed out for the day, save for the typical carnival fare - soft pretzels, popcorn, corn dogs and such - but the Bay stays thrumming as the crowd shifts into the rowdiness of nightlife activities. 

Jake rolls his eyes when he catches you staring. “Having fun?” 

“Oh, yes,” you emphasize. “Not as much as you, though, huh?” The next bout of laughter becomes an oof! in a gust of air as he thrusts the stuffed animals at you so fast you have to keep from dropping them. Lastly is the snake, even though it suits him. He thoughtfully pulls your hair aside before tucking it around your neck. “S’that some sort’a Cape boy persona you keep locked up in hiding?” Hands full, you pucker your lips at him expectantly. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he admits. He holds the lit cigarette to your mouth and you gratefully pull a drag or two off of it. The tips of his fingers graze your lips, and his eyes flit toward the light touch. “I was.. Kind of a shithead kid back then. In a pack of other shitheads. We’d steal beer, get drunk off a forty. There was the county fair, or the harbor. Turns out I liked throwing things.” 

It’s a rare detail of his adolescence you’ve never heard before, and you’re cradling a stack of stuffed animals. 

“What about you?”

“I sucked.”

“Wasn’t gonna hold that against you. Makes me look better.”

“I, uh, I would try to find out how much funnel cake I could eat before riding the Zipper without throwing up.”

Jake hums with delight, brows almost disappearing into his hairline. “We could go try that right now.” 

“I did actually. Get thrown up on. By my friend. People could see it from the outside, it was - we don’t have to.” 

For the first time today, Jake laughs. It’s boisterous and at a higher pitch than one could expect, and you love it even if it’s caused by the image of you covered in vomit. It makes a small part of you not want the day to end; this pocket of time where it’s just you, and not the stifled air and bull shit drama of the restaurant. But there’s still the trek back to the city, a bus and a train to catch, and at the thought of it small ounce of dread fills your stomach because fuck -

The LIRR is packed. 

You should’ve predicted as much; it’s not only the Long Island residents that need to get home,  but it’s been a minute since you made such a commute, after an event no less, to have considered its capacity. The train has already left the station, streaks through the county with a steady rock and the occasional flicker of the overhead lights, by the time you manage to find a seat after an off-balance weave through train cars - a lone three seater among a sea of loud passengers.

There’s a large group of rowdy boys, college kids from the looks of it, clearly drunk and a fraction of whom are dressed in matching football jerseys. They shout back and forth at each other across the aisles and over the heads of the girls who sit among them. They make a show of snapping at them to quiet down to no avail; ultimately as uninhibited and shrill as the boys are. And music plays from an unknown source, overpowering the volume of the overhead speakers. There’s only one other quiet pair; two women who share a set of earbuds to watch a cellphone streaming from their laps.

Jake props his boot atop the armrest in front of him the moment you both sit down, a force of habit to prevent anyone else from sitting with you. He receives the odd dirty look from stragglers passing by looking for a seat, only to slouch and nestle into your side in petty retaliation. It’s oddly satisfying, like you can hold onto the illusion of being alone with him just a little longer. 

But they keep shuffling through, and a dirty look evolves into an ahem and an eyeroll, and someone even pauses a second too long, and Jake takes it a step further. You were content to feign ignorance, staring out the window while the exchanges played out, but suddenly he’s dragging your arm over his shoulders. He angles toward you, a warm hand slipping around the curve of your thigh, and then his mouth finds the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches as it tucks itself there, trailing feather light kisses along your skin. 

There’s an audible “Oh, whatever,” and receding footsteps and you can feel him smile into your pulse point.  

“Is that totally necessary?” 

“Mhm.” He withdraws but doesn’t go far. Merely tilts his head back, shifting within the circle of your arm until you’re perfectly level with each other. It’s intoxicatingly close; the tip of his straight nose a hair’s breadth away, his eyelashes a dark blur over his cheeks. You can smell him this close. The smokiness of cologne or body wash, and a hint perhaps of something sweet like shampoo. “I don’t wanna share. And your furry little friends weren’t doing the trick.”

“And kissing me was your call to action, huh?” 

He shrugs noncommittally. “Proved effective. Unless they happened to be into watching random strangers fool around. Not that I mind, but -”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” you ask dryly.

“I could be. Open to that.” He licks his lips and you gaze steadily back, trying (with futile effort) not to fluster as he smirks. Acutely aware of the hand on your thigh, how his thumb strokes absentmindedly along the inseam of your jeans, stoking something inside that’s growing harder to ignore. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

You scoff, momentarily relieved with the urge to laugh. “If this is about the damn disco again -”

“Actually I was thinking of that time in the walk-in.” 

“.. Ah, yeah. That.” As it turns out, mishaps of the past don’t exclusively refer to isolated incidents. You just refuse to dwell on those moments, knowing they’ll never amount to more than just having fun for Jake. Not that there’s anything wrong with that - your heart skips a beat from simply recalling the memory. But feelings.. Complicate things. 

You’re not going to dwell on that now, either, though. Not when there is little subtlety in the way you both inch closer together. Not when you can feel his breath on your lips. Jake’s head tilts, the bridge of his nose brushes along yours. Attraction thuds in your veins to the point that it’s a chore to find your own voice. “So, what you’re saying is, you’ve become one of my bad habits.”

He makes a noise of amusement, closing what minute space is left between you. “It doesn’t have to be bad.” 

“I said - tickets, please.” 

The conductor’s voice jolts you like being snapped out of a trance. It’s a rude awakening - both the intrusion itself, and the jarring transition back into reality. It’s no wonder neither of you heard the first request. Now an actual football is being lobbed around the train car. A chorus of voices sing along to the music blasting, competing with the echoes of multiple conversations occurring at once. Has it been this loud the whole time?

You disentangle from Jake who appears mostly unbothered but for the slightest of sulks as he reorients himself. He pats around his pockets until fishing out two train tickets from his jacket, then hands them over to the conductor. You watch the scene unfold, baffled. It’s quite possibly the most mundane fucking thing that could be happening right now. 

Once the conductor moves on to the next row, you coo sweetly at Jake. “Aw, hon, thanks again for the ticket.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, then reassumes the position as if the moment had been merely paused. He reaches for you, slipping a hand around the back of your neck, his thumb teasing along your earlobe, and even if it weren’t for the way his mouth seals seamlessly over yours, you’d still be melting instantly. 

You release a trembling sigh, eyelids fluttering closed at the feel of him yielding as the kiss deepens. Jake’s lips part over yours and you open for him immediately, groaning helplessly when he licks into your mouth. The remnants of cheap beer and cigarettes evaporate into something entirely, pleasantly him. The headiness of his spit, the furl of his tongue. It’s dizzying, and arousing. Your surroundings fade back into white noise yet adrenaline surges through your limbs, leaving you to clutch at him desperately. Seeking purchase in the fabric of his shirt, a sleeve of his jacket, anything you can reach, and one can only assume he warms to the notion from the way his body gives.

He surges even further into you, pressing you as far back as you can go without meeting resistance, and just as you worry the twist of your spine to accommodate might grow tiresome, a series of long dragged out squeaks wheezes from the nondescript pile at your backside.

“Not quite the response I was looking for,” Jake murmurs between kisses.  “Gonna make me regret winning those for you, huh?”

“Not on your life,” you retort, voice a breathless thing. You gaze up at him, swallowing hard at the sight of him like this; pupils dilated, darkening the shade of his eyes with dramatic effect when the lights flicker again. You graze your fingertips over his lips, spit-slick and swollen, then smile and try to tease with - “Think I might just name one after you-”

The thought is abruptly cut short when his mouth descends upon yours once more. His thumb presses into the hinge of your jaw, tongue slipping greedily along yours the moment you part for him. Hungrier this time, as if each interruption only makes him more impatient. His hands quickly trade places; one cups the back of your head, keeping you stubbornly in place as he steals the air from your lungs. While the other threads down the scope of your torso, breezes over your hip and maneuvers beneath your legs and - the comfort is an instant relief when he pulls them over his lap. 

It gives him freer reign this way. You arch into his touch as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, and he breaks the kiss with gasping breaths. Seeks reprieve in the curve of your jaw. Not remotely dwelling on the wanton display that anyone could simply look over the edge of their seat only to witness him finding the sensitive spot of your throat where his lips pucker and suck, the noises he makes shooting sparks of pleasure deep in your belly. 

“Jake,” you warn through clenched teeth. It’s not so much that you want him to stop - quite the opposite while you try to resist writhing over his lap. It just might make for a small problem while you’re on a fucking train. 

But he makes a disapproving sound, something like a huff in your ear, then sharply nips something fierce around your skin. You lurch despite your efforts, let slip a strangled moan. Then he soothes the mark with the heated drag of his tongue, and you’re melting all over again, whimpering as his breath raises goosebumps along the trail of saliva.

“Just like that.” His voice is breathy, muffled as he kisses his way back up the line of your jaw. “Is that what you like?” 

Fuck, you want him. Little thought is spared on anything but him as his hands never quite stop moving, from grazing your bare rib cage to grabbing your ass. Your needy fingertips card through the black mess of his hair, tearing him back to your mouth, and Jake fulfills. Kissing you hard and slow. Growing bolder as he feels you squirm for any semblance of relief. His touch slips down your belly, curls along the zipper of your jeans. And when his hand sinks between your thighs, the last fleeting, coherent thought you do have is that at least no one will be able to hear a single sound you make. 

~

A transfer at Jamaica and a subway ride later finally sees you back to familiar streets. It's well into the evening now, the cityscape lit up with its typical bright neon glow. It floods the sidewalks while you walk, milling through an altogether different type of crowd as you make way for the restaurant. 

It’s almost inevitable, winding up there every night. Regardless of the complaining, the more-often-than-not haughty guests, Howard managing with his quirks, the restaurant remains a single constant for most of the staff, and even on a rare day off, you still come crawling back to its doorstep. 

The sight of its stoop on the street corner, well lit beneath its overpriced lanterns, makes it almost seem like a typical Sunday. The main difference being that your arrival isn’t usually accompanied by an armful of stuffed animals. Nor do you make a habit of reporting to work while painfully horny. The walk has done you some good in that respect; it feels like you’ve been properly, thoroughly edged. 

The ride on the train took a turn you.. weren’t expecting - though it certainly made for a way to pass the time. It’s as if you can still feel Jake’s lips on yours, still taste a remnant of him. Like the very scent of him has buried itself somewhere deep inside your lungs. The aforementioned makeout sessions do not hold a candle to what has just occurred, as mostly over the clothes as it was. Voyeurism isn’t really your thing, and though you wouldn’t hold it past Jake to be up to task, it was the closest you’ve toed a line in that territory, and you feel - you feel. That cliche spark, that flutter in your chest as powerful as the ache of arousal in your belly.

It wasn’t just the kissing, either. It was the heavy petting, it was the talking in between. Telling Jake about your first broken bone, learning how he split his chin open skateboarding when he was a teenager - still has the scar that’s hidden by the usual scruff of his facial hair. You wonder if he feels it, too. Felt anything at all or if it was just having fun, which, to reaffirm to your current overthinking state of mind, is still okay. 

You chance a glance at him walking beside you, his own expression unreadable as ever as he smokes another cigarette. Just moments ago, his lips were kissed swollen. His pale skin heated with a flush that ran low beneath the collar of his shirt. And now, the only remnant left behind is the muss of his hair.

But the restaurant inches closer. Service is over by now. The both of you could walk inside, join those partaking in shift drinks, wind up at a bar later, then go your separate ways. Or you could.. ask for more. See if there is an ounce of weight to what he brought up earlier. His pace slows short of making it to the entrance, intent to finish his cigarette, and now is as good a time as any. 

“Hey, so -” you suddenly remember the stuffed animals cradled in your arm, and for the second time tonight feel a little foolish. But there’s still some liquid courage left in you yet. Some bolstered confidence from the days’ events. 

“So, I know we’ll probably go for drinks and whatnot, but later…” You’re stood between him and the building and Jake steps closer; whether to shield you both from passerby or impose with his body some more is unclear as his gazes sharpens, pinned on you while a plume of smoke cascades from his nostrils, and he raises a questioning brow. God, you are so fucking fucked but you’re smiling and shaking your head as you finish your thought. “Later, maybe you’d wanna come back to my place?” 

There’s the slightest lift to the corner of his lips. His head tilts back in appraisal.

“Okay.” 

You blink rapidly. “Okay?”

“Yes,” he enunciates with a little more gumption, appearing amused. Definitely imposing now as he moves even closer until you are nose to chest. “I’d like that. But, uh.. You should know.” He dips his head as if to kiss you again, and quite honestly, you’re not sure if you can remain standing if he does. “I’m unavailable.” 

A snort of laughter erupts from your throat, and even as he leans in, you can’t resist a roll of your eyes before they flutter closed and -

The front door of the restaurant bursts open and the moment is quickly lost to a series of recognizable voices: Ari, Sasha, Heather and Will. Scott with a few guys from the kitchen. All talking a mile a minute as they file down the stairs and swarm over the sidewalk. 

It’s Scott that notices you first. “Hey, look who finally decided to show up. Lookin’ like a bunch’a fuckin’ dorks.” He purposely knocks his shoulder into Jake’s as he strides past, tossing a vague gesture behind him. “C’mon, shitheads, I’m fuckin’ hungry!” 

“Ooh, what’s this?” Sasha tugs at the snake and drapes it around himself like a feathered boa before striking a pose. “I’m keeping this one.”

“No fuckin’ way!” you snap, just as Ari plucks the shark from your grasp.

“I thought you were going to an oyster festival,” she drawls, inspecting the toy. “Didn’t think that meant a carnival, too. I’m working my ass off all day..”

“Okay, just don’t drop them please? Jake won them for me.” You immediately regret your choice of words as they come to a complete halt. 

“Jake did what now?” Ari asks, her eyes - along with Sasha’s and Heather’s - flicker up at him in genuine shock. Will merely chuckles as he passes, trailing after Scott and the crew. 

Jake’s face stretches with a dry smile. “Fuck off, Ari.”

“Y’know for someone who doesn’t date, you’re awfully fucking good at it.” 

“Jake? Good at dating? Now that’s one I’ve never heard before.”

So occupied by the current company, you had taken no notice of Simone’s approach. She’s out of her stripes, donned in her well maintained image of class. An expensive knit sweater, pressed pants. Her signature red lipstick is freshly applied, and her long blond locks are left to cascade softly across her shoulders.

She looks you up and down as she draws near, taking in your appearance but not quite meeting your eye before looking coolly at Jake. “You didn’t tell me this was a date.” 

Her tone is coy enough, but not a single one of you is under the false impression that there isn’t more underlying to what she says. Sasha makes a comment under his breath and Heather quickly jabs an elbow into his side to quiet him.

“They’re just teasing, Simone.” You snatch the shark back from Ari, feeling annoyed. Like you’re being scolded by a school teacher when you haven’t done anything wrong. “It wasn’t a date, we just had -”

“I’m glad you two had a good time,” she finishes for you, and when her gaze finally meets yours, it’s like this conversation has somehow escalated into a standoff, and each bystander lights up a cigarette during the tense pause. 

Eventually, Simone flicks her hair. “Impeccable timing, Jake... Walk me home?”

Fuck. You hate the way your stomach plummets at that.

You look up at him, clinging to some notion that he’ll deny her just this once, that he has felt something, that he wants to see the rest of the night through. That he wants - you.

But at the very moment you see his face, you know that’s not happening. For a second, he looks back at you, mouth hanging open around unspoken words. And when Simone calls his name again, you watch him shut down completely. 

“Sure,” he intones.

“Alright, c’mon babygirl.” Sasha grasps you by the arm in effort to tug you away. Follow after Will and Scott who’ve likely made it a couple of blocks down the road by now. 

You falter on the first step as if you’d been glued to the spot, stubbornly staring at Jake, trying desperately to swallow around the sting of disappointment and rejection so it’s not plain for him - or anyone else - to see.

You think you manage to tell Jake ‘goodnight’, but then your back is turned on him and you let Sasha steer you away with the girls.

The three of them link arms with you tucked somewhere in between. It’s apparent you’ve done well steeling yourself; there’s a bounce to their steps as they carry on as before, talking one over the other with no regard to whatever the fuck it was that just occurred. Onward to what you can only hope is a repeat of last night, with little left over to remember come morning.

[legendofzoodles]

LU as Friendship Dynamics

Sky and Wild = “supportive rivals”

I love the idea that these two are frenemies, with their bumby friendship slowly smoothing over with time. Sky comes off as sweet and in many ways perfect, while Wild once had a perfect persona 100 years ago but got a lot rougher around the edges after waking up. I feel like even after sorting through what I explored in the story Recovered Regrets, they’d still clash. 

It’s funny how they mirror each other: one had years to train and prepare, the other had less than months. Both versions of the reincarnating evil they fought were arguably at their most powerful. Sky’s quest went near perfectly and he got to forget about it as time past, Wild got it on his second try and can’t forget. Skyloft was untouched by Demise’s influence, Wild’s Hyrule was devastated by Calamity Ganon. First and last in the timeline, both knights. 

[Wild showing Sky how to play snow bowling]

Wild: [misses 2 pins] Shoot!

Sky: Still impressive.

Wild: Yeah well, I’ll get the rest on my next shot!

Sky: Like how you defeated the Calamity on your second try?

Wild: [throws a snowball at his face]

I just want them to take lighthearted jabs at each other and for Wild to bring out sassy Sky. 

Four and Hyrule = “’overthinking this’ and ‘no thoughts, head empty’”

They bounce off each other in consistently surprising and endearing ways. If the chain were to split up in a temple and these two ran into a difficult dungeon puzzle, Four would be drawing all over the floor and walls in chalk trying to figure it out while Hyrule is sat on a ledge next to him swinging his legs patiently.  

Hyrule: You got it yet?

Four: No...but I think I’m close. 

Hyrule: Ok, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.

Four: Actually, do think you could check this for me?

Hyrule: [squinting at Four’s writing]

Hyrule: Let’s take a break. 

Or if the two would be in a town for something, Four would try to keep them on track, but Hyrule was be forever wondering off and checking things out. But if he ever has to talk to people big brother Four will be there if he gets flustered or awkward. 

Twilight and Legend = “’big soft’ and ‘angry smol’”

So hear me out: monsters are besieging a town and the chain need backup. The town has soldiers, but the town’s Lord has them stationed around his walled fancy home. So Warriors asks Legend and Twilight to threaten persuade him to lend them his forces.  

Legend: [bursting through the doors] I need you to listen to me.

Haughty Lord: [standing up] Why should I even give you the time of day?!

[Twilight emerges behind Legend, sword drawn]

Haughty Lord: [visibly intimidated]

Legend: [crosses arms] Well?

Haughty Lord: [sitting down] Point taken, continue. 

Legend with his sharp tongue would surgically dismantle any argument brought forth by the selfish lord. While Twilight stands next to him, silently discouraging the lord from ordering his goons to ‘escort’ them out with only his ominous presence. Literally all he has to do is stand there. He’s a buff dude in a wolf pellet, no one’s gonna mess with that. 

On the flip side if Legend gets into a petty spat with a villager or street vender then Twilight can diffuse the situation without taking sides. Or just pick up the angry bunny and walk away from the situation. 

~~~

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist

9th place in the LU character design ranking

Character analysis posts:

Hero of the Sky, Hero of Time, Hero of Twilight, Hero of the Wild, Hero of Warriors

Parkour team - LU drabble

How each member of the chain laughs - LU headcanon

[bciphergrl]

A List Of My Sam and Max AUs

It has been a long time, since I posted anything here. I originally was just gonna make only one AU. But, funny enough, I have way more than that now XD

I've made this list, if you're interested in any of the AUs and/or you have any questions about them. I'm more than happy to answer them.

Itty Bitty: During one of Sam and Max fights against a criminal at the toy factory, Max gets hit by a ray and disappears. It was supposed to teleport him somewhere far away. But nope! Max has been shrunken in size and fell into a toy box that was meant to be delivered to the next city over. Now, it's up to him and his new human friend, Jess, to help him reunite with Sam and get him back to his normal size, while also fighting crime together (and learning about Jess' past) along the way.

Error 305: Sam and Max try to escape their universe as it started to collapsed. But they didn't get out without getting physically and mentally damaged. Max really got the short end of the stick, while Sam is still sort of sane. Now, they live in a white void, while Sam tries to find a way to get both of them back to normal.

Trading Minds: It's basically 'what if Sam and Max switch minds?' The results? Max is a more level headed lagomorph, while Sam is a pretty chaotic dog.

The Monster I've Become: After the Events of the Devil's playhouse, Max somehow survived the explosion and became his normal self. But he doesn't look the same though. He looks partly like an eldritch horror monster and a lagomorph. He kept his identity hidden since then and has made an abandoned subway train station as his new home. Sam sadly has no idea that he's still alive.

The Beast Within The Sea: Sam is the captain of the pirate crew who is after a magical jewel on a mysterious island. He manages to get it successfully and was about to leave the island with it. But then, a huge sea creature emerges from the ocean and attacks the ship. It kills everyone except for Sam. Instead, it keeps him on island and refuses to let him leave. Now, he needs to find a way to escape the place without the beast ever finding out.

The Multiverse Traveling Thief: Nobody has seen face or learned the name of the person who steals the artifacts from different universes and destroys those said universes. He keeps his mask on, while out in public to keep his identity hidden. But this lagomorph is known as "The Multiverse Traveling Thief".

Doodle: Sam and Max are simplified doodles who are alive.

The Circus Of Astral Magic: Deep within the forest, there's a magical circus that lures people there. A small lagomorph finds himself there. He thought it was all fun and games. Until he starts to see the dark truth behind it. This isn't an ordinary circus. This one is ment to keep people there, once they enter it.

Shattered Realities: Darla is a fan of a video game franchise, Sam and Max. She really likes playing it's third and final season to the TellTale's game, Sam and Max: The Devil's Playhouse. However, one night, she deeply wished that she can change Max's fate during his 305, even though it was pointless because he's not real, right? Well, the next morning, she woke up in a bedroom that doesn't belong to her. She quickly scanned the room, which she doesn't recognize at all. She slowly gets out of bed and walks to a nearby phone. However, she froze in her tracks when saw her reflection. Max's reflection to be exact. She has no idea if this is some sort of dream or if it's actually real. But, one things for sure, she needs to change Max's fate before she loses her life in a 305.

Heartstrings: Max is a florist who is so madly in love with his 'soul mate' that he'll do literally anything to make them his. Even if it means to kill as many people as it takes and pull some strings behind the scenes to make that happen.

The Pursuit Of Blissfulness: The world was once full of color, before it faded away from the world. Everyone has long grown used to it being Monochrome since then. Now, a lonely lagomorph tries to figure out the mystery behind it. But will it be worth the price of losing the very person that he believes to hate?

System Override: Sam is a child who got dared by his group of friends to sneaking into an abandoned toy company and bringing back a toy. He was pretty scared. But he managed to find a dusty A.I robot which surprisingly looked like a rabbit. He has no idea how to carry it back home. But yet, it turned on by itself and scanned him for a moment, before happily greeting itself. It really did caught him off guard. It was almost as if it woke up. But that didn't stop him from being amazed by it and taking it out of the building. If he only knew the reason behind the toy company's downfall and the danger behind the robot.

An Elder God In Lagomorph's Clothing: The universe where Junior disguised itself as a Lagomorph named Max on Earth who pretends to be a silly and crazy person who is partners with Sam and they still work together as the freelance police. However, it has a much sinister agenda for the universe.

Human: A universe where Sam and Max are humans. Sam (who goes by Sebastian) works as a detective for the police. Max (who goes by Mathew) makes comics for a comic series 'Sam and Max: Freelance Police'. They're bffs in this universe and hang out together, whenever they're not busy with work.

Driven To Insanity: Sam lives in the world where alot of people were infected by a terrible unknown disease that causes the infected people to suddenly attacked non-infected people. They show signs of discoloration with purple patches on their body and make sounds that sounded like gibberish to any non-infected. Sam is one of many few who aren't sick and has been one his own for a decade now. He ran into Max, who has the disease but he claims to be strangely immune to it. Together, they survive in the zombie-like apocalyptic world.

The Hare And His Lapdog: Sam goes to a seemingly ordinary casino and he has a really good luck streak at poker. This catches the attention and interest of the owner of the building. So, they walk up to him and gives him a deal. If he can beat them at poker, he can walk away with a trillion dollars. However, if he loses, he'll lose all of the winnings and will have to work for them. Sam doesn't see it as much of a challenge and played a game against them. He ends up losing though and had to work for them. However, what he didn't realize that he didn't sign up for the casino. He signed up to work for the Mafia and the owner, who is revealed to be Max, is a the Mafia Boss. Now, Sam is on edge of life or death as he tries to find a way to escape from him.

Tiny Detectives: A universe where a tiny version of Sam and Max somehow ended up in the real world and found their way into my house. Now, I'm taking care of them, while trying to figure out how they ended up here.

I'll most likely update it, if I make more Sam and Max AUs.

[rachetmath]

RWBY Villains

 Me: Hello RWBY villains how are you today?

HAWC: Hey.

Me: Great now let’s get down to business. Um, how did all of you fumble the bag so badly?

HAWC: Whoa!!!

Me: Like ya’ll weren’t even Anime or video game villains. Ya’ll were Disney-level villains.

Adam: Disney? Oh no, I should at least be on Vergil's level.

Me: Oh no. Sh-shut your ass up. You were one of my favorite characters. Like you were awesome at the beginning but you were completely terrible.

Adam: Hey my death wasn’t that bad.

Me: You served as a bridge to Bumblebee. Bro you barely had a role in volume six. You were barely a character.

Adam: Fine. I’ll bite. What was wrong with me?

Me: In volume three, you swore to Blake that you would take everything she ever loved. In volume five, you sent minions to take care of Blake's family.

Adam: Okay but I was at Mistral helping Cinder.

Me: Which is fine. Until Blake showed up and one-shot you. And you were willing to kill yourself along with your troops.

Adam: Oh.

Me: Then on the train, volume six, you had team JNPR, one of Blake’s friends and you didn’t try to off any of them.

Adam: I was on a train.

Me: Full of human civilians. One seemingly trained huntsman. And three rookies. Are you serious?

Adam: Um.

Me: Next, and this has been on my mind for the longest. How, on earth, did you manage to find Blake?

Adam: Uh.

Me: Like were you camping at some random station hoping Blake will see you? Did you somehow know where they were going? If so that means Oscar’s to blame because that must be how he broke back into Saph’s house.

Adam: Mm.

Me: Are you telling me that Blake’s ass cheeks are so big that you were able to track her down with just your ears? Seriously cause that’s impossible cause Harriet got better cheeks than her.

Adam: Aw man.

Watts: It ‘s okay young lad. You were just not as smart as I was.

Me: Brother your plan only  worked because everyone was stupid.

Watts: What?

Me: Man a drunk housewife proved you were alive and helped Weiss’s father win.

Watts: Minor.

Me: You had Tyrian kill a bunch of people. Only to frame Penny but guess what she had a whole recording of the events. Literally, your plan wouldn’t have worked if any of the characters have asked, “Why is Tyrian here?”

Watts: Well I hacked into Penny so that way she could self-destruct if she opens the vault.

Me:

Me: Really? Oh, that’s great. Let’s give him a hand everybody He did hack into Penny.  *stops clapping*.Too bad he fumbled on that too.

Watts: What? Impossible.

Me: Oh, so instead of you reprogramming her to simply kill herself when she opens the vault. You could have reprogrammed her to follow your every command or better yet Salem’s making her a soulless killing machine. Not only would you’ve had a powerful android but another maiden, who will actually follow your orders. Basically making Cinder useless.

Watts: Oh my god.

Me: And you died along with Ironwood. Cinder didn’t even bother to remember you. Hell, she may have planned that shit.  In fact, she took credit for all of your hard work. You died like an idiot!

Watts: No. NOOOOOO! I wasted my life.

Me: *sigh* Now for you.

Hazel: Wait a minute. I am supposed to be a redeemed man.

Me: Hazel, you killed people. You served Salem after figuring out she’s immortal. In fact, you had Ironwood scared of you. You had Oscar and Ozpin right in front of you.

Hazel: Your point..

Me: Hazel, I’m not going to lie. I would’ve straight up committed.

Hazel: What? No.

Me: Okay fine, but why did take Oscar, who has no idea how you feel at all because he hasn’t lost a damn thing, to change your mind?

Hazel: He told me the truth.

Me: You mean the same truth you tortured him for.

Hazel: Um.

Me: Then when he told you that you snapped at him afterward for it.

Hazel: Oh.

Me: Then you had to release him because you didn’t believe him. When you could’ve just called Jinn’s name and seen if she appears before you then made a decision.

Hazel: Oh. But I did exactly like my sister would have done. I fought the good fight.

Me: Hazel she wasn’t even a huntress she was still a student. Matter of fact why should I care about what your sister would’ve done if I had never seen her?

Hazel: Um.

Me: *sigh* (This is why I think Jaune should’ve fought Hazel.)

Roman: Okay so what about us?

Me: Roman you good. You had three good volumes. You were decent.

Roman: Alright.

Ironwood: And-

Me: Ironwood you’re not a villain, you’re a broken man. In fact, you were following your heart but not your mind.

Ironwood. O. Thank you.

Cat: Well certainly I don’t need to be lectured then. I’ve have great.

Me: oh hell no. You, dirty, down-bad feline pedophile. 

Cat: Hey.

Me: Dude. What the hell were you thinking?  Were high on cat nip or something?

Cat: What was wrong with me trying to get to Remnant?

Me: Okay let start with the fact that you tried to posses Ruby first. Then fully tooken control of Neo. Yet Jaune who was in Ever After for years, and was already going through a mental breakdown. Which you called out by the way. Never crossed your mind.

Cat: uh.

Me: Cat think about it. Neo is their enemy. Jaune is their friend. Not only that, unlike Neo, Jaune, after many years still wanted to go home. You couldn't have used that against him or used his friends against him to weaken him. So you can take his body and leave.

Cat: Oh. 

Me: Bro, you were going up against team RWBY, the story's main characters. They weren't even holding back and you were still giving them work. But if you had Jaune’s body wouldn't they have held back just a little bit to give you an edge?

Cat: Oh my god.

Me: Plus Jaune’s semblance amplifies the user's abilities. 

Cat: I may would’ve been able to kill them.

Me: So you just proved Jaune is stronger than Ruby. Both physically and mentally. Good job. But you want to know what made all that so pointless. What made you the worst villain of all time than Salem? Bro, you could have actually achieved your goal.

Cat: Yes  If it wasn't for Alyx.

Me: No you mother pussy fucker. You could've just gone back with Lewis.

Cat: *shocked after a realization*

Me: Bro, Lewis was already planning to leave Ever After. You couldn't take the time to ask, "Hey Lewis. Since your sister is staying in Ever After, forever possibly, can I go with you to Remnant instead?" Alyx would have basically kept her promise to you. But no you wanted Alyx to leave. And when she refused you killed her. Great job, you have proven to be a pedophile psychopath.

Cat:

Me: Okay so hope all of you realize how much of a disappointment you all have been. And how replaceable you are. Especially you two. Watts and Hazel.

Watts: Who can possibly replace me?

Me: Pietro for starters. He made Penny. And after getting screwed over by the heroes. I’ll say he’ll want some payback. But if I were to go with someone better than I say…  Dr. Merlot.

Watts:.... 

Me: He had his own island. His own company. He seems to be more interested in the Grimm than human beings. And Salem controls the Grimm. So imagine, him teaming up with Salem to revolutionize the Grimm research and make the Grimm into a more deadly and effective.  I mean he’s done it before. 

Watts: Fair point.

Hazel: And me?

Me: Hazel, Junior can make a better villain than you. Anyone can be better than you. But I might as well say  Miss Malachite needs to make a return. Junior really just needs better help and him and Malachite combine their efforts they can almost run a business and a city. Not only that they have spies everywhere so information ain’t so hard to find.

Hazel: Dang.

[tbnrpotato]

Our Own Choices

Chapter 2

Clone forces rally. As the war escalates in the Outer Rim, the Jedi Knights are spread thinly across the galaxy.  Many new clones are rushed into service to support their Jedi generals. Unfortunately, because of the relentless demands of battle, many young clones must join the struggle before their intensive training has been completed. These clones, manning a vital network of tracking stations, are all that stand between the Republic and invasion.

I gotta admit, training isn't fun. Rex says it's hard at first, but I'll get used to it. Rex and some other troopers from the 501st train me, and physical training is a literal nightmare. When I wake up the next day my limbs feel like they're gonna fall off. To be honest, it would be better if they did.

I haven't seen Kix after that first time we met, and I haven't interacted with any of the other clones either.

"We want as few clones as possible to know that you were a deserter," Rex says.

"What's a deserter?" I ask him.

"Someone who left the army without permission. People like you."

"But I'm back now, right?"

"Still, we should be cautious."

Most of the time Rex isn't around for my training, he's planning battle strategies with the Jedi Generals and out in the field. 

There's one time Rex comes back from the Battle of Christophsis and he tells me General Skywalker has a new padawan.

"She really thought since she was a commander she outranked me." Rex and I sit on a bench at the side while I'm taking a break from my training. 

"I'm guessing she doesn't, because-"

"In my book, experience outranks everything."

"In your book, experience outranks everything."

Rex and I say it at the same time. Rex chuckles and pats my head. "I see you've at least learned something from me."

"How could I forget that one line you say at least once a week?"

"You got a point kid."

"If experience outranks everything, then why won't you let me get out in the field to get experience?" I ask, probably for the 4th time that week.

Rex's expression hardens. "We had this conversation before, kid. It's too dangerous out there for you for now, you gotta focus on your training first, and when I say you're ready to get out there, you can join me and the boys in the 501st. Got it?"

I roll my eyes, sighing. "Fine."

Rex hands me a few credits. "Go get yourself some new clothes when we land on Coruscant tonight, okay? Your old ones are getting a bit tight." And then he pats me on the back and walks off.

I put the credits in my pocket and get back to training.

I'm still better using a knife than a blaster, but I'm pretty decent with a sniper as well, my long-distance aim with a pistol is shitty, but in close range I can get a good headshot in. 

Rex let me keep my knife, and he even got me a larger one which looks a lot more like a sword, the orange highlights on it match the ones on my old knife. 

Recently, Rex and Cody have been checking the Republic outposts for inspection, and I haven't seen Rex in weeks. 

When Rex finally arrives back on Coruscant, I'm already standing at the hangar waiting for him, crossing my arms.

"What took you so long?" I ask.

"I told you that it was gonna be a few weeks," Rex sighs. "Nice hoodie you got there, by the way."

"Thanks. And what did you say about teaching me how to use those deflector pucks for trick shots before you left?"

"I said that was after you mastered shooting a pistol." 

"But I already have! I can get a headshot from like 3 meters away." I protest.

"3 meters isn't far. You'll be shot down by clankers before you could even get that close."

"Aw cmon, captain, at least give me a demonstration," I smirk. I know he hates it when I call him "captain".

"No time for that. Commander Cody and I are going to the Rishi outpost in a few minutes, I was just checking in on you."

"Oh, how kind of you," I reply, before walking away.

Once I see Rex turn his gaze away from me, I run behind a box near the ship, and wait for Rex and Cody to get into their ship. As the door of the ship starts to close behind them, I slip in at the last second quietly and hide in the darkness, hoping that no one heard me.

As the ship lands on Rishi, the lights at the back of the ship, where I am, turn on. I draw a quick breath, there's nowhere to hide, and Rex and Cody are coming. So I stand up and smile awkwardly.

"Hi guys."

"Kid, what are you doing here, I told you to stay on Coruscant and train," Rex sounds annoyed.

"Who's the kid?" Cody asks.

"Hey commander, name's Aris, I'm basically like the captain's secret trainee," I say, casting a quick glance at Rex, who puts a hand to his forehead and groans.

"I never thought Rex would personally train a kid like you," Cody says. "Where'd he find you?"

"We-we can explain that later, let's just get this inspection over with first," Rex says hastily.

"Just don't get in the way, alright kid?" Rex asks, not waiting for a reply and walking out of the ship with Cody. I follow behind them.

They're busy complaining about having no deck officers on duty here at the outpost, and that the clones here are sloppy. I don't think they are. Something feels off. I can see faint lights coming from behind the boxes, and I don't really think that's normal. I quicken my pace and move closer to Rex.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Cody says as the door to the outpost opens and a clone walks out.

"Welcome to Rishi, commander. As you can see, the outpost is operating at peak efficiency. Thank you for visiting, and have a safe trip back," the clone says, with some weird-ass hand movements. Something's definitely off, and both Rex and Cody glance at each other.

"We need to inspect the base just the same," Cody says.

"Uh, there is no need," the clone says. "Everything is fine and fully operational."

I pull at Rex's arm. Rex nods back at me.

"Take us to the sergeant in command," Rex says.

"Roger roger."

Rex and Cody look at each other, and I'm slightly confused. Suddenly, I see a flare rising up behind us.

It's a droid attack flare, I was just taught that a few days ago.

"A droid attack flare," Cody and I say at the same time. Rex shoots that clone in the head, and he falls to the ground.

"Woah, Rex, what the heck are you doing?" Cody sounds alarmed.

I don't say anything as Rex goes to inspect the body.

"Relax," Rex says as he takes the helmet of the clone, revealing a lifeless commando droid under the helmet. "Looks like one of those new commando droids."

"That flare must have come from the survivors," Cody says.

Suddenly, blaster shots come from all directions and Rex and Cody start firing.

"Get behind me kid," Rex says as he dodges a blaster bolt. I don't protest, staying as close to Rex as I can. Just the sound of blaster bolts whizzing over my head is enough to make my blood run cold. It's not the same as in training. If I get shot here, I will most likely die.

Some of the commando droids are using the boxes to shoot from the high ground. Cody manages to get a few shots on one of them, but they just get back up again.

"Those clankers have tough armor," Cody exclaims. 

I run as fast as I can behind a box to take cover, covering my ears and closing my eyes tightly, curling up into a ball. I can almost feel the shot on my shoulder again. My breathing quickens.  Rex and Cody go to take cover where I am.

"We're cut off," Cody says, he and Rex keep firing at the droids. His voice sounds muffled in my head.

"Get me outta here...get me outta here..." I whisper to myself, pressing my knees to my forehead.

And then I hear the sound of grenades landing near our area and Rex grabs my arm, shoots a grappling hook to the platform and lowers us down to the ground. Cody's next to us as I hear an explosion.

When my feet touch the ground, I lean against a rock to stabilize myself, my legs are shaking, my shoulders are tensed, I just stare straight ahead, breathing heavily.

"Kid, are you okay?" Rex puts a hand on my shoulder. "Are you hurt or anything?"

I look down at the ground, avoiding eye contact. 

"Aris? Look at me. Are you okay?"

I look up at Rex. "I shouldn't have come."

"Yea, you shouldn't have. But you're here now, and you're still alive, so I'd count that as a win," Rex smirks.

I nod, trying to slow my breathing down, my shoulders relaxing slightly. 

"This is just like training, okay? Don't worry about it."

Rex turns to Cody. "Well this sure complicates things, Commander. No worse than that time on Tibrin."

"We had jedi with us on Tibrin," Cody says as we stare at the flaming wreckage of the ship. "They helped."

"What...happened on Tibrin?" I speak up in a small voice.

"Not now kid," Cody snaps, and I go quiet again.

3 clones walk towards us through the smoke of the wreckage, and Rex and Cody raise their blasters at them. "Hands above you heads. Take your sun bonnets off."

I think he means helmets. But seriously? Sun bonnets? You couldn't come up with something better?

My hand reaches for the pistol at my belt as I stand behind Rex and Cody, wondering if I should follow them and point my gun at the clones.

"Uh, sir?" One of the clones sounds confused.

"Take them off. Now!"

The clones raise their hands in surrender, take their helmets off, and they're not droids.

Suddenly, an really big eel-like thing crashes through the rocks at our side and roars at us. I stand there frozen while Rex shoots the thing and kills it in one shot.

Rex takes off his helmet and goes to check whether the eel is dead. 

"Nice shot," one of the clones says.

I back away from the eel's body but behind me is darkness and I don't wanna get ambushed by any more droids, so I just stay close.

"The name's Rex," Rex says as he checks the eel's body. "But you'll call me "Captain" or "sir"."

"Sir, yes sir!"

I really don't wanna talk to Rex when he's like this. I have a slight fear or superior authoritative figures.

"I'm commander Cody, your new boss," Cody says as he takes off his helmet.

I smile awkwardly and wave at the 3 clones. "Hi..." 

They ignore me. 

"My designation is trooper 27-5555, sir," one of the clones says. 

"We call him Fives. I'm Hevy. This is Echo." Hevy points to the last dude.

"Where's your sergeant?" Cody asks.

"Dead, sir. We're all that's left," Echo says.

"Looks like we got a batch of shinies, commander," Rex says as he walks up to the clones.

"Shinies, sir?"

"That's right. Your armour, it's shiny and new, just like you," Rex says.

At least they have armour.

"Sir, me and my batchers are trained and ready. We'll take back our post, shiny or not."

"There's hope for you yet, rookie," Rex says.

"Hey kid. You're not supposed to be here. It's dangerous."

I look up, Hevy's talking to me.

"I know, I was following the captain along without his permission, cause I thought I could get some experience here, but..." I look down, my voice is soft.

"It's scarier than you thought it would be?" Echo asks.

I nod. "I wanna go back."

"Well, you can't get everything you want, kid. And if you're looking for some experience, you're sure gonna get a lot of it here," Hevy says. "What's your name?"

"Aris."

"Like the leader of the 504th Legion?" Fives asks.

"Rex named me after her."

"You look like a clone. Are you?" Echo asks.

"Mhm. Female clone. Wasn't meant to exist, but here I am. Made to be physically weaker than the others." I chuckle, looking down. "But I'm definitely not weaker. I'm equal to them."

"Alright boys, keep quiet and follow me," Rex says, before starting to climb up a ledge. 

The others all follow, and I'm at the back. 

Okay. You can do this. Just like training.

I take a deep breath and start climbing.

Don't look down, don't look down, there's no harness, just don't look down and don't fall or you're gonna become a piece of roti prata and die-

I cling onto the rock that I'm climbing on tightly, and I make the mistake of looking down. My whole body tenses up, and I draw a few quick breaths before looking back up again. I can feel the sweat running down my face. My arms are shaking. All I can hear is my heartbeat now.

After what seems like forever, we make it up to the top of the ledge, and Hevy helps me up. My breaths are shaky as I wipe the sweat off my face.

"Look sharp, rookies," Rex says. "As long as those tweezers occupy this post, our home planet of Kamino is at risk."

I look up. Kamino? 99's still there, isn't he?

"But there's so many of them," Hevy says.

"Doesn't matter, kid. We have to retake this base, so we will retake this base."

"How do you propose we get through those blast doors, Rex, old boy?" Cody asks.

"I have a few ideas."

I gently tug at Rex's arm.

"What is it, kid?" Rex asks, turning to face me.

"Can I...sit this one out, sir?"

"Look kid. We need all troopers for this. Including you."

"I don't wanna go. I don't wanna die. I'm scared."

Rex puts both hands on my shoulders. "You're not gonna die kid. You'll be fine. What happened to getting experience, hm?" He playfully punches my shoulder. "You'll be okay. I promise. Just remember your training, okay?"

I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. It's not working, but I don't show it, and I nod. 

We reach the front blast doors of the outpost and Cody and the others hide at the sides, so I follow them, pistol in one hand and my vibrosword in the other.

Rex walks up to the front door.

"Unit 2-6, is that you?" the commando droids in the outpost ask. 

"Roger roger," Rex says.

"You sound strange. Is something wrong with your vocabulator?"

"Roger roger."

"Take off your helmet. Let me see your faceplate."

"Roger roger."

Rex ducks and uses the commando droid's head from just now and shows it to the camera.

"This is never gonna work," Cody puts a hand to his helmet.

The blast doors open and Rex holds up his pistol.

"Clones!"

"Roger, Roger."

Rex takes out the droid in the middle and the others take out the remaining 2.

"Right, let's move."

The others run into the main room and take cover at the sides, shooting at the droids. I stay behind and take cover from the main hallway, not looking behind me. I can see blaster bolts whizzing past me, but they're not going to hit me.

I hear Fives getting shot and Cody telling them to focus. I look back and see Rex in the main room, where a commando droid is trying to melee him.

I draw my vibrosword and run into the main room as Rex dodges the swings of the droid, and I slice the droid in half from behind. The others take out the last 2 remaining droids and the room is clear.

"Thanks kid," Rex gives me a downwards nod of respect.

I sling my sword back onto my back and lean against a wall at the side while the others roast the droids that they just shot down.

"Get to the window. It looks like we have more visitors," Cody says.

We all run to the window and look outside.

"It looks like a separatist fleet."

"That's why the commandeered the outpost," Cody says. "They're mounting a full-scale invasion."

"We have to warn command," Rex says.

"Shouldn't we hide? If they're gonna mount a full-scale invasion we don't stand a chance," I speak up, and everyone stares at me. "What? I'm telling the truth."

One of the clones goes to try and transmit a signal. 

"Those clankers sabotaged our transmitter, and they hard-wired the all-clear signal. It'll take time to-"

"We don't have time. Look."

A ship is descending in front of the outpost.

"Guys we really should go," I'm making my way towards the vent, ready to run.

"Well kid, you're gonna get a lot of experience from here," Echo says.

"We can't protect the outpost long against that army of clankers," Cody says.

"Then we'll destroy the outpost instead," Rex says.

"But sir, our mission is to defend this facility at all costs."

"We have to warn the Republic about the invasion. They'll take notice when the all-clear signal stops."

"That's right. When they stop receiving our beacon, they'll get the message something's wrong," Fives says.

"We'll need every thermal detonator in the inventory," Rex says.

I slowly open up the vent cover, ready to slip inside.

"It'll take more than a few detonators to destroy the outpost."

Then someone suggests an idea to blow up the outpost using liquid tibanna.

"Good. Bring the tanks here and prime the detonators," Rex orders.

Just as I'm about to slip into the vent and run away, Rex notices me.

"Hey kid, don't think about going anywhere."

I freeze, looking up at him.

"I have no interest in dying today," I reply. 

"I thought you weren't weak?"

So I help the boys carry the explosives to the main room as I hear the battle droids marching towards the front gate.

When we manage to get it all to the main room, Rex and the others gather around, and I stand behind Fives, Echo and Hevy.

"Alright listen up. There's only one target of interest in this sector: Kamino. It's the closest thing we clones have to a home. Today we fight for more than the Republic. Today we fight for all our brothers back home. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Rex looks at me.

I take a deep breath and steel myself for the high possibility of dying. "Sir, yes, sir." 

We head into the weapons room where the others take their weapons. My hand rests on my pistol, and the other on my vibrosword. I turn to Rex, who's making his way to the main room. He nods at me.

I can feel my heart in my throat now, and it must have been pretty obvious to Cody, because he puts a hand on my shoulder and says,"We're gonna survive this kid. Trust me.

Hevy goes to the front and takes out a bunch of battle droids with that gatling gun of his, and then Cody, me and the others come in. 

I shoot at the droids with my pistol and blaster bolts narrowly miss me, and everything's going so fast, I can't comprehend what's going on.

One of the clones throws a grenade at the battle droids, knocking most of them off the platform while the rest of us fall back, closing the blast doors.

They get blown up from outside and the battle droids enter, still shooting at us, and I run into the main room, with the others following behind after a few moments.

I hear Rex say that the handset wasn't linking up with the detonator, and Hevy says he'll handle it, telling us to get out of here.

We run to the vents and crawl through them, with Rex leading the way. We reach the outside in a few minutes, hiding behind a ridge.

"Hevy, hit the-" Rex looks behind, and Hevy isn't there.

"Where's Hevy?"

Echo and Fives shake their heads.

Rex talks into his comlink. "Hevy, get out of there."

"The remote isn't working," Hevy reports. "I have to detonate it manually."

I move to run back into the vents and try to make it back to the outpost, the others follow me. I'm running as fast as I can, and crawl into the vents, trying to make it back.

I hear the others trying to contact Hevy, but they're not in the vents yet. I gotta get there.

And then I hear the sound of explosions and debris falling, the vents shake, and I curl up into a ball, covering my head.

When the shaking stops, I open my eyes, and I see Rex pulling me out of the vents.

"You okay kid?" Rex asks.

I nod, staying close to him as we head back to the others.

Hevy's gone.

"We've got those tinnies on the run," either Fives or Echo says, I can't really tell. 

"Thanks to Hevy."

I hear the sound of gunships descending.

"We're getting of this crater boys," Rex says.

We all get on the gunships, and I remain silent for the whole trip back to the cruiser.

Fives and Echo are getting some random award thing from General Skywalker, and Rex says he's considering adding them to the 501st. I head back to the barracks and just chill there for awhile, thinking about everything that's just happened. It all feels so fast.

About an hour later, Rex comes in.

"Hey kid, how're you doing?"

I remain silent.

Rex sits down next to me.

"Yknow if it wasn't for Hevy, we wouldn't be here right now," he says.

I nod, staring up at the ceiling. "I shouldn't have come."

"Yea, it's a lot more different than training, isn't it?"

"It's so...scary, my mind just goes blank, and I forget everything I learned during training. Being a soldier's hard."

"The first few battles are always like that, but...you'll get used to it."

"I'm not gonna be in another battle. I'll just stay on Coruscant and continue training. That's what you want, right?"

"Hm. I could let you come on some of the less dangerous battles, how about that?"

I hesitate. I can almost imagine the sickening feeling in my stomach when the outpost blew up, when I realised that Hevy was gone. I can almost feel my heart pounding in my head every time I see live fire whizzing past my head, when I narrowly miss death by an inch.

I sit up and look at Rex.

"I don't wanna go."

Rex looks at me, confused. "What?"

"I'm done with being in battles. I'm not going to fight out there in the field anymore. I'm done. I'm leaving."

Rex sighs. "Look, ad'ika-"

Fives and Echo come into the barracks. 

"Hey kid, how're you doing?" Echo asks. "You were pretty good out there with your knife and your pistol."

I look up at him.

"I know what you're thinking, kid. You wanna leave after your first skirmish, and to be honest, I can't argue with that. It's a hard life, being a soldier."

I nod.

"But we're fighting for the Republic, for a cause that we believe in. Out there, we gotta be strong, we can't show weakness, and we show those clankers what we're made of, got it?"

I nod again, and Echo and Fives walk away.

Can't show weakness. They always said I was made to be weaker than the others. Gotta prove them wrong.

I turn to Rex.

"Maybe I'll take a few weeks on Coruscant to train and prepare myself, and then maybe I'll consider coming along on those less dangerous battles."

Rex smiles, and nods. "Okay then ad'ika, we've got a ship leaving for Coruscant in a few hours, and I'll see you in a few weeks."

"What does ad'ika mean?" I ask.

"You already know, kid. All clones do."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. Cya, captain."

Rex groans.

"And for the last time, DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

[avatar-of-the-blank]

There is fog around me and back on the train the driver said “Bonus point to those who enter or exit through a door no one else has used today”

Should I be concerned?

ooc //TW sui*de implications, incase blocked tags dont work

They've become hung up on the words now. Is it a literal door, or is it some sort of way out? If it's a way out, then a way out of where? The train station? Their home town? Their own head, where all of this overthinking is happening? They ask some question to the blog that supposedly answers questions about weird shit like this, but, who knows when this guy is gonna see it. So, steady on they go, clicking off their phone and shoving it back into their bag, rolling their bag across the ground, trying to find a map, or directory, or a help station. The directory they found was barely visible through the dense fog, and none of the markers were legible, except the star in the center- 'YOU ARE HERE'.

Trying to keep a steady head, they walk onwards to the next blurry point they might've seen on the map. A long line of people hang their heads low, equally spaced apart. The one at the very front stared down the receptionist, whose head was buried in her palms. There was no point waiting in such a long line.

Their arm jolted out to someone passing by, mouth prepared with an 'Excuse me', which was all too soon shut down as the man flinched away from their touch. The same thing happened with the next person, and the next, and the next.

Where was the exit? The train was long gone, and no one was even getting close to each other, just scrambling frantically around with their eyes locked to the floor, looking for some way out.

As they eventually began booking it through the crowd in a panic, losing their luggage along the way, they found the reality of what the conductor meant.

The body on the tracks had two cuts clean through, segmenting it into three parts. People who came over to the tracks with the same idea turned away with a sigh upon seing the mans corpse. Someone was strung up on a sign, while another was crushed by piled up luggage and bags. Their expressions were the same as the people who were alive; vacant.

Choking back tears - as well as bile from the gory sights - they continued to move through the crowd, which parted around them. This was a nightmare, a room full of people and no one able to help, everyone just looking for a way out, some unique way out.

Passing by corpses dead all in new creative ways, they slowed to a halt. Waiting by the tracks for the next train. Waiting. Waiting. As the cacophony of rolling bags, bodies falling and breathing, they wait.

I.. again, apologize. End-lonely statements are always so hard. Uh, anon, I hope your train comes.

[erischeatsdeath]

bullet train moments i 🫶 adore part 3

[part 1/2]

-the white death saying, "i will look into your eyes as i kill you. and your brother," and shocking tangerine into silence even after his vulgar "your son and your money" speech. tangerine just mournfullly muttering, "my brother.." the childhood flashback?? what if i cried.

-"it's my bad luck-- it's bad luck on acid."

-the white death playing russian roulette. shigeru staring into the barrel of the gun knowing he's lost.

"what's your plan, mate? you gonna fucking waltz up in here and blow my brains out in front of this whole fucking carriage of-- witnesses!" and then turning around to find the whole train empty 💀

-ladybug CONSTANTLY shit-talking carver. "carver? you picked me second to carver? man, what an ego! calling in sick, what is this, high school? 😡 talk about a candidate for self improvement 🙄" "fuck this job! fuck carver!" "if you meet a guy named carver, he's a dick... tell him i said so."

-THE KIMURA NURSE ASSASSIN

-ladybug flushing the boomslang down the toilet with his jacket.

-lemon pointing the gun at prince and complimenting her acting skills 😭

-TANGERINE JUMPING ON THE TRAIN AND BREAKING THE WINDSHIELD. literally iconic.

-maria calming ladybug down after the hornet incident!! >>>

-"tell tangerine that.. tell tangerine.. tangerine.. he's got-- tangerine."

-the dramatic ass howling sound effect when ladybug says, "so the wolf was here to kill the hornet.."

-the little quirk in prince's eyebrows when she tells lemon, "just lucky, i guess"

-tangerine's disheveled, pissed off walk (channing tatum saying "god, he's got a great walk")

-"everyone.. loves lemons--" [fucking passes out]

-shigeru saying some serious shit into his phone thinking yuichi still has it only for ladybug to go "i think yuichi dropped his phone on the bullet train--" and tell him him about tangerine's find my phone app. then hanging up on him.

-"DON'T-- CALL ME-- BRO!!" being the last words of the scariest most dangerous crime boss in the world 😭

-ladybug stealing the wolf's knife and using it to save lemon <33

-"oh, the cat's out the bag now, innit?" [...] "you know, i don't know a thing or two about being a parent, but you know what i would do? being that it's your son, and your money, i'd stop crying about your dead wife, get off your fucking lazy arse, and finish the job yourself. but now that we're having a little heart-to-heart, i've got a couple things to tell ya! your sons a complete bellend and he fucking deserves to be bleeding out of his eye sockets. and as for your case, i have seen it since tokyo, and i hope someone's found it, put it all on red, and is having a fucking wonderful time!" "i will meet you at kyoto station." "oh, how fucking wonderful, i can't wait!

-THE PART WHERE LADYBUG GETS BIT BY THE BOOMSLANG. LADYBUG FLAILING AROUND SCREAMING?? shigeru blankly watching and prince going, "... was that a snake?"

-the shot of shigeru at the station waiting for the train. he's so badass actually.

-everyone saying cool one-liners before/after kills (or attempts) and ladybug just saying dumb shit like "let this be a lesson on the toxicity of anger.." and a defeated, confounded "karma's a bitch--!"

-shigeru stopping when he hears the prince say "be honest" and remembering the voice on the phone. him sitting down next to them and ladybug being so confused and so exhausted.

-THE FUCKING WATER BOTTLE

-"we're on the wrong track!" and everyone-- ladybug, lemon, the white death's men etc.-- bracing as the trains collide. the whole sequence when the train is half-destroyed.

-i love the soundtrack, actually. just though i'd mention it.

-prince frantically running by ladybug going, "i'll fucking kill him myself!" and ladybug's "??"

[imaginidol]

Taemin: Circles and Circles with You

Taemin walked briskly through the night on his way to the subway station. Another long day of work, another day closer to his next album promotion.

I need to get my hair dyed tomorrow, he thought to himself as he walked down the narrow sidewalk shared by multiple shops’ vacant outdoor tables and chairs.

He was so consumed by his thoughts that he almost tripped when he shoved past a seated customer of a late-night coffee shop outdoor table.

“Oh, forgive me, I—” He stops cold in his tracks, mid-bow, at the realization that the coffee drinker he rudely shoved past was you.

His ex, and the one particular person he’d often thought about from time to time.

“Taemin?” You look up and your eyes meet his. The corners of his shocked mouth curl into a smile as he breathes your name.

“I… I was rushing and didn’t see you. I’m sorry…” he looks down at the spilled coffee on the table as you start wiping it with a napkin. “May I ask… why are you drinking coffee so late at night?”

You giggle at the ridiculous question, answering, “We haven’t seen each other in nearly two years, and this is how our new conversation starts?”

He smiles at the sound of your laughter. He wants to say more, but his phone buzzes. He looks down and furrows his brow as his manager’s contact name flashes over his screen.

You notice this, and nod gently. “We don’t have to talk now, Taemin. I see you’re busy. Maybe I’ll catch you some… other time.”

“Maybe,” is all he can say, still in a daze of disbelief that he’s seeing you after so… so long.

Almost as if it were against his own will, he feels his feet shuffling away from you and back on route to the subway station.

Why couldn’t I say more…? Is the only question that he ponders during the rest of the way home.

It is almost three weeks after the past interaction of the coffee incident. Taemin waits for the morning subway at the train station, reading through his emails and texts as the crowd of subway-riders grows around him.

Soon enough, the long train comes to a stop in front of him, and Taemin walks quickly inside.

He doesn’t look up for a couple minutes as people come in and out of the subway car. Suddenly, a warm hand gently grazes his fingers as they wrap around the stanchion he was holding onto.

He looks up, expecting to calmly encounter a fan. His eyes widen at the sight of you being the owner of the hand that is now nearly grasping his.

“Good morning, Tae. We meet again,” you smirk, unaware of the slow excitement growing deep within the corners of his smile.

“I see we have,” he giggles. “Are you… are you stalking me or something?”

“Stalking you?” You let out a small laugh, ignoring the older folk around you annoyedly looking in your direction. “What, I can’t take the subway to my job?”

“I mean,” he breathes, “this is the second time I run into you, and it hasn’t even been, like, a month. What does that say?”

“Actually,” you smile. “You quite literally ran into me last time. Today it seems like I’ve run into you.”

“You’re funny,” he says, looking down at your hand touching his.

Your hands felt softer against his skin. Lighter, even. He felt warm inside at the feel of your gentle touch.

“Are you still working at that bank?” He asks you.

“I am, actually.” You smile. “Are you still a member of SHINee and a renowned soloist of the music industry?”

“Shut up,” he giggles, his heart sinking into his chest at the realization of the nostalgic humor and friendship you both used to share.

It’s been several days since you and Taemin’s last interaction. It’s a bright Saturday morning, and he has the weekend off to himself.

He’s pouring milk into his cereal when his phone buzzes from across the counter, the caller ID flashing the name of his bank.

‘Are you still working at that bank?’ The words he had asked you ring in his mind as he picks up the phone, almost praying that it was you.

“Hello?” His voice is half-shaky, but to his surprise and disappointment, a male voice answers.

Just my bank teller, great.

The conversation follows the normal dialogue between Taemin and Mr. Daniels, his personally appointed bank teller.

“I’ll send you the contact of the appointed financial advisor you’ll be working with from this moment on,” Mr. Daniels says cheerfully into the phone.

Taemin nods, realizes Mr. Daniels couldn’t tell he was nodding over the phone, then mumbles a quick thank-you under his breath.

The call ends and his phone chirps as the contact of a new financial advisor reaches his message inbox.

Taemin stares at the phone, a feeling not quite right settling in his stomach.

He carefully reaches for his phone and places a call to his newly appointed financial advisor.

“Good morning, Mr. Lee,” the cheerful voice of a someone all-too familiar picks up on the other end.

No way. There’s no way, Taemin’s thoughts scramble to sanity.

“You’re… you’re definitely stalking me,” he mutters.

You let out an awkward laugh instead. “You know, if I wanted to stalk you, I wouldn’t be as slick as you’d think.”

“Well, what are the chances you’re appointed as my financial advisor?”

“I got a promotion a couple months ago. Now, it’s a real coincidence that they appointed me to you in particular. Considering you’re my ex, I don’t think I would’ve particularly asked for you as a client.”

“So we’re not cool, then?” He bites his lip.

“Tae, it’s been probably two years since I last heard of you personally. This may be the worst timing to ask, but if if you’d like a fresh start, I’d be up for it, too. What do you think?”

The thoughtful boy contemplated your suggestion for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“They say the third time’s the charm,” he smiles to himself. “You keep popping up, and I can’t really tell if it’s fate trying to tell us something. But if it is fate, I’ll be open to start over.”

“I was hoping it would work out that way,” you sigh with relief.

The call soon ends with a promise to meet up at the first place he’d spilt coffee on you, in hopes of catching up after two years of growth.

I can’t seem to stop wondering, he thought as he slowly picked at his cereal with his spoon. Would we have bumped into each other more until we finally decided to start over again?

If I had brought my car that night to work instead of taking the subway. Would I have bumped into you and your coffee?

If I hadn’t chosen to come in an hour early to work the day at the subway. Would we have held hands somewhere else?

If you hadn’t gotten your promotion. Would you still pop up somewhere else in my life outside the bank?

The questions seemed all too deep and anguishing for him to consider so early in the morning. He shook his head as he took a sip of his cereal milk, turning his attention towards a half-opened window at the end of his living room.

The breeze filled the apartment with cool air and the sounds of birds flying by. A mourning dove sings in the distance, a mating call all too familiar being sung out into the spring air.

The coffee brewer behind Taemin suddenly finishes, coming to a quiet stop.

And soon, so does the call of the mourning dove.

[keaalu]

Pendennis Castle (and friends)

I feel like I've been adopted by the spirit of Pendennis Castle. (Perhaps I lived there, in a former life, firing cannons for King Henry?)

Point being, the very first time I caught the Riviera Sleeper to Cornwall in 2017, the diesel loco that pulled the train was Pendennis Castle - and ever since then, the name keeps. Coming. Up. So I think I have slightly adopted it.

This holiday, I went to Falmouth and explored Pendennis Castle itself (“Castle On The Hill Castle”, haha). But more excitingly, look what I encountered in Didcot!

Pendennis Castle! (And holy moly she is a big beastie. And constantly LOUD, her chimney roaring away like a massive kettle you forgot to take off the boil.)

Granted, standing on the station next to her, she's obviously huge - I was STILL not as tall as her. But it’s only when you’re at ground level right alongside, staring up at at this towering piece of noisy engineering and realising that the top of your head doesn’t even come to the top of its wheel, that you realise what absolutely monumental vehicles these actually were. I had to stand on tiptoe to look into her cab.

She's at the coal stage here (above), about to have her tender refilled. The camera was on my eyeline. Even in these photos you can't really grasp how thunderingly enormous this old lady is. 120 tonnes! And even when she was not doing anything at all (her crew weren't even aboard), she was noisy.

Here's an even bigger one! This is King Edward II, who escaped the scrapyard by about 30 minutes and (I think) was in such a state it took longer to restore than it was in service. (I asked the tour guide and it's slightly shorter than the Flying Scotsman but heavier, at 135 tonnes, and more powerful. Apparently there was a bit of a pissing competition between GWR and LNER over who had the better engine, which resulted in these behemoths being designed. They had to do lots of weird things with it because otherwise it wouldn't have fitted through tunnels/alongside platforms/etc.)

Yeah. These are big beasts. (Even the dinky little tank engine they had outside weighed in at almost 23 tonnes.) If I get anywhere with this thing I'm noodling away at, I really want to try and carry that off.

It's quite sad, in a way, seeing them preserved and just sitting there - getting lots of love and polish, granted, but I wanted to see them escape onto the mainline and really run. Watching Pendennis Castle shuffle up and down her 750m of line was a bit like watching a racehorse pace around in a paddock.

Of course I was busy taking notes. (I didn't quite get brave enough to ask the volunteers "so if you were in the middle of nowhere, just an engine and crew, and you'd stopped for some reason, and the driver then had a heart attack, how would you get help?")

(Something something someone runs down the tracks to a lineside phone to call the signalmen to put a stop on the line, and the engine sits whistling the hell out of an SOS because he's not quite got the steam pressure back up to run, until a policeman comes along to help.)

In a final turn for the weird, this holiday, I was just getting ready to leave my hotel on the final day, and heard the toot of a steam train. That can't be a steam train, I said, it's a mainline railway station next door. But I hurried away anyway, and look what was sat in Bristol Temple Meads station! (I left the people in for scale. Even here, the loco is lighter than Pendennis - 72 tons vs 81 tons.)

She left literally not even a minute after I got to the platform, so that was a huge touch of luck. It's a special one-off service running on the mainline up to Shrewsbury. So this is on my list for next year!

(If there isn't already a character in TTTE called Dennis, WELL THERE SHOULD BE. Who used to work the tin mines and speaks Cornish so no-one fucking understands him.)

(The sleeper is my favourite way to travel on holiday. Go to sleep in London, wake up 250 miles away in Penzance!)