#with varying levels of polish

[hools]

57!! kris deltarune

[57] PUP - MY LIFE IS OVER AND I COULDN'T BE HAPPIER

[rostam-z]

In the background the mighty Mt. #Nuolja in the #moonlight, #NorthernSami #Njullá, is a mountain at #Torneträsk in #Kiruna municipality, west of #Abisko in northwestern Lapland. Nuolja is partly within #AbiskoNationalPark. The highest point is 1169 meters above sea level, while the nearby mountain peak #Slåttatjåkka measures 1191 meters. Photo taken from the #AbiskoDelta, after a windy storm and that´s why the ice bubbles are visible. Polished by the wind. Nuolja, is also a #fieldresearch site that stretches across Mt.Njulla. With the mountain to the east, the village of Abisko to the south, and bordering Lake Torneträsk, this is a varied-habitat field site. Mountain birch forests are one of the main appeals of this research site. #ClimateChange: From 1920 to 2020, the tree line was raised by 230 meters due to the warmer climate. @swedishlapland #SwedishLapland @bjorkliden_fjallby @abisko.adventure @abiskomountainlodge @abiskonet @outbackabisko @stfabisko @lightsoverlapland #VisitSweden #VisitLapland #Lappland #Laponia #SwedishLandscape #Landscape #SlowPhotography #landscapephotography #raw_sweden #raw_nordic #naturephotography #mountainscape #mountains #SlowPhotography #Sami #AbovePolarCircle #subarctic @natgeoyourshot #natgeoyourshot

[soukeyed]

idk. shadow 05 redraws w varying polish and levels of artistic interpretation

[thelingodingo]

BTS' Speech Styles

Like anybody, the members of BTS have their own speech patterns and language quirks that make their speaking unique to themselves. So I thought it would be interesting to make a post that goes deeper into the details of how each member speaks in Korean!

Jin: He talks in an old-fashioned manner (very exaggerated ahjusshi) and doesn’t use much slang. He also uses a lot of puns consistently, its quite impressive and cringy honestly. His vocabulary isn't as varied and wide as RM but his grammar is pretty spot on. Also very speedy at talking and hard to understand sometimes. On top that, he's great at getting his point across in serious situations without adding unnecessary emotion.

Suga: I think I once heard a fandom myth that he has a lisp (which he very much does not). But he does mumble a lot and stretches his ㅔ's, making it very difficult for even native Korean speakers to understand him properly. On top of that, Suga also speaks incredibly quickly, making it another thing that makes it very hard to understand him (no wonder he's a rapper). Sometimes, he speaks very swaggy. Sometimes, he speaks like an old uncle. Sometimes, he's like RM and gets very eloquent with his wording.

J-Hope: Because of his dialect, he sounds very warm and friendly. He also seems to enjoy using words such as 되게 (really) and 뭔가 (somewhat) veryveryvery often. His tone fluctuates alot and something about the way he pronounces words is very crisp and staccato-like. He can also be very serious and deadass as well.

RM: He speaks very intellectually and educated. Both his vocabulary and sentence structure is very high-level, sometimes choosing difficult and unconventional words. Every now and then he jokes around in the many different dialects he picked up from the rest of the members (he doesn't come from a place that speaks a different dialect like the others). His normal speaking is also very unique sometimes due to the influence he has from the different dialects of the members, over the years he basically created his very own dialect that's a mix of all the different dialects together. This makes his speech so nuanced and special and difficult to fully translate/convey.

Jimin: Has a very friendly and down to earth tone when talking to fans since he speaks informally. His speech pattern is very playful, sweet, and cheeky. During other occasions, he speaks formally to fans and has the most "feminine" sounding speech style. You can tell he selects words very carefully and delicately to be as nice as possible. In Korea, he has a nickname of Park DaJeong, meaning "Tender Park" due to his speech style. Sometimes, he slips into dialect which is when he sounds a bit "rougher".

Taehyung: Is a big fan of using and repeating adverbs such as 약간, 조금, 진짜, etc. In Korea, people call the way he speaks 태태어 (Tae's language) because of how interestingly different and lowkey peculiarly he speaks Korean. It doesn't have much to do with his dialect, he literally just speaks that way. (he can speak amazingly when needed, it's just that he has his own quirks when speaking in casual situations)

Jungkook: He speaks with hints of dialect quite often, making him sound very rough and most "masculine" sounding in Korean out of all the members. I think he has a very clear and smooth tone which makes it easy to listen to him, so if you're learning Korean he might be a good person to do listening practice. He's not as polished in vocabulary/grammar compared to RM and Jimin but he's still great at speaking.

Something I want to mention is that the younger members very commonly use honorifics/polite social conventions/formal speech towards the older members even with their closeness and family-like relationship. This is actually something about BTS that is highly praised among Korean society due to how professional and respectful it makes them seem.

There's probably more to analyze and delve into when it comes to the members' speaking styles and patterns but this post is just a general overview.

Please let me know if theres any inaccuracies or if you want more posts like this!

[starlit-typewriter]

Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 9

Here it is part 9!

Takes a peek at my writing doc. Yep uh, plot is beginning.

Also I've done the most recent Archon quest and uh, Wow.

I uh, didn't expect to cry that hard.

But very glad that my fic is still technically canon compliant. Literally counting down the versions till a lore drop breaks what I have built.

Warning for Spoilers up to Genshin Impact 4.6

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

~~~

Silver clouds float around lazily on a beautiful sparkling blue sky. 

From beyond the billow of misted water, a spark shines.

It glows brighter.

And faster.

It shoots down towards the sky, breaking the sea of clouds, leaving a gaping hole from where it burst through.

The spark becomes a star, flickering from blue to a brilliant gold, leaving trails of light as it descends towards Teyvat.

As it approaches, it shrinks, becoming smaller, but no less powerful.

A targeted stream of light, of energy.

It approaches a city, a harbor. 

You can feel the energy in the air, the hustle and bustle as humans galavant and frolic.

The sounds and smell of a festival, filled with raucous cheers and lively conversation.

The light ignores it all, heading straight towards a solitary figure.

A figure cloaked in brown and gold, strolling along the roads of this place.

A non human hiding in their midst.

They’re concealing their presence, but the light knows better. 

It can feel their raw power and strength.

This is the one they were looking for. 

It heads straight towards it, hitting their body with force, causing them to stumble in their tracks.

The light, no. The blessing burrows it’s way into this figure.

Mine

It purrs, settling inside their body, warming him from the inside, filling their body with power and energy. 

All Mine

~~~

Your eyes snap open as you jerk out of your trance.

Morax was still sitting there, quietly.

Observing you with those eyes.

Those calm arrogant eyes.

You hate them, you hate them so much.

“Do you remember now,” he asks.

You clench your fist, fingernails digging into your skin. 

You don’t want to believe him. On some level you still don’t.

However, you can’t deny that he has your power. 

That he was gifted with your power.

Blessed

But you don’t know why.

The unfortunate truth, something that Morax no doubt knows, is that you don’t have all your memories.

Azhdaha’s sacrifice gave you some of your powers back, but it’s far from what you used to have.

You remember a time when you were powerful.

When you created mountains and oceans.

When you could create living beings with a single touch.

Well, not a single touch, but you could still do it.

You remember an era of peace, of dragons.

But it’s all gone.

Destroyed.

All because of them.

But you don’t know how.

You don’t know why.

The anger and grief wells up in your chest. 

Your power responds accordingly, strumming under your skin, begging to be set free.

No,

You can’t.

Not now,

Not yet.

Later, you promise yourself.

Later, you will find out the truth and get your revenge.

~~~

“To the tales of the lyre, to the sweet dream of tonight!” A sweet melodious voice sang to the cheerful applause of the Angel’s Share patrons.

The teal figure bowed jauntily, waving his hat with a flourish.

Another successful night completed! 

The bard in question skipped over to the bar, offering its red headed owner his most charming smile. 

Alas his efforts were in vain as the Pyro wielder barely offered him a glance before going back to polishing glasses.

“Oh come on Master Diluc,” he weedled, offering his best puppy eyes. “Did my music not please your patrons ears, surely that deserves some complimentary beers”

“That’s exactly why I’m deducting some drinks from your tab,” He grumbled, “your unpaid tab, might I add.”

“In Angel’s Share I spend my time, in hopes of getting some dandelion wine,” he strummed, “Of varied notes, I sing so high, yet my sweet drink you so deny.”

“Let the bard drink,” Quinn cheered drunkenly, as did the rest of the tavern to Diluc’s chagrin.

The man tried to explain, only for the cheers and chants of the tavern to rise in volume, drowning his voice out. 

Mondstatians and their alcohol.

The tavern owner turned around with the most unimpressed face known to mankind.

Venit would be intimidated, but unfortunately for Diluc, he is not a man and has seen much much more unimpressed faces over the years.

The two stared each other down, one smug and the other exasperated, all the while the tavern’s chanting rose.

With a defeated sigh, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt pours the bard a glass of dandelion wine. 

The bard in question whoops in triumph. As does the rest of Angel’s Share as they celebrate his “Victory” with more drunken cheers and songs.

He knew the tavern owner wasn’t truly angry, exasperated and annoyed perhaps, but the man could never muster any real anger towards Venti.

A small bonus from him revealing his true identity of the Anemo Archon to him. 

For all his tough words against the Knights of Favonious, he was still a Mondstatder through and through. 

Whilst he did not have nearly as much presence in Mondstadt as the other nations did, and was proudly the weakest of them. The people of Mondstadt did not forget what he’s done for them and still recognize and worship him accordingly.

The wind spirit kicked his legs back and forth and he watched the redhead over the lip of his glass.

In terms of personality he really is nothing like his ancestor. Which makes sense of course, it’d be foolish to expect them to end up the same even though they have the same bloodline.

If anyone in Mondstadt were to have that title it would be the Acting Grandmaster.

Guiltily, he is glad that they differ.

To humans, gaining a vision is a great honor. Proof that their worth has been acknowledged by the gods.

He’s happy for them as well, whenever a Mondstater gains a vision.

But he won’t deny the seed of anxiety that sprouts in his heart as well.

Visions can make humans, gods among men.

But the world is made of more than just men. 

Humans may be many but are comparatively weak in the grand scheme of things.

Although, having numbers is its own form of strength.

Perhaps he isn’t giving humans enough credit. 

A lone human is weak, but a group of humans have a level of strength and fortitude that amazes even the gods.

He supposes that must be why the heavens protect them so.

Well, protect is a strong word.

They will do whatever it takes to ensure the continuation of humanity.

But they really won’t waste their time on individual humans.

Unless,

Well,

Visions are gifts for a reason.

Allogenes are rare, and are appropriately rewarded.

Not that visions are not a great boon.

He’s single handedly watched how visions save and change the lives of their wielders.

It’s simply what can come after.

It is extremely rare for an allogene to ascend to Celestia. That position is only reserved for the strongest of wills in all the lands.

Vanessa was one such will.

He knew it the moment he laid eyes on her. 

Her burning passion and desire to protect her people.

How could she not gain a vision, how could she not ascend.

It was why he stuck around, stayed by her side. 

Partially to ensure the safety of Mondstadt. 

Partially to see if there’s anything he could do to save her.

Not that there’s anything he could do, or dare do.

Her will was extraordinary during her life.

It's just beyonf that, that is the issue.

The gaze of Celestia is particularly strict when it comes to cases such as these. Any attempts to defy destiny will be met with swift retribution.

Celestia does love its retribution.

Any hint of disloyalty, or protest will be swiftly squashed.

There was always a bitter irony in his position as Archon.

He was strong enough to protect his people from gods and monsters and other humans.

But not Celestia.

Not one was strong enough to fight against Celestia, even the creator of this land fell to their lies and trickery.

He has no idea what the Tsaritsa could possibly be planning to think they stand a chance.

Perhaps that’s why she’s moving so quickly.

In hopes of finishing her plans before the Heavenly Principles awaken.

He wished her luck on that front.

Even though he may not have the courage to do the same.

He just wished she was less aggressive about it.

Honestly, she didn’t even bother asking him before sending Rosalyn to attack him.

In front of his own church no less.

Honestly the audacity

Although, to be fair, without that audacity she probably wouldn’t have dared to try going against Celesta. 

Her lack of contact with Celestia may have also played a role.

She is not a part of the original Seven after all.

Both he and Morax had visited Celestia firsthand upon their ascension to Archonhood.

It’s where they received their gnosis, their Archon robes and well.  

Where they’ve seen the true capabilities of Celestia.

Witnessed the lengths they’re willing to go to to squash any resistance.

On that front he understood Baal’s reasoning behind the Vision Hunt Decree.

While she may not have gone to Celestia herself and witnessed what the original seven did. He had no doubt that her sister passed on some warning to her before her death. 

It was smart.

If not ultimately misguided.

Sacrificing the few for the sake of the many.

Stifling a couple vision holders in exchange for the safety of her nation.

He understood the urge.

Disagreed with it, but understood it all the same.

The role of allogenes is essential to the survival of Teyvat.

Like it or not.

Without them, Teyvat would collapse.

Sacrificing the few for the many.

He despises it.

What Teyvat is built upon.

What it requires to function as it does now.

But he’s not strong enough to change any of it.

All he can do is wallow in the knowledge that Teyvat is-

The bard shakes his head vigorously to get rid of the path his thoughts are heading towards.

No,

Bad thoughts,

Not tonight,

Tonight is for fun.

Not, 

Well.

Anyways, he’s getting maudlin, that’s no good for such a festive night. 

He tips his glass back, emptying it of its contents.

The Dawn’s Winery quality is unparalleled.

As usual of course.

One of his pettier achievements to say the least.

When Morax announced his desire for Liyue to become the trading hub of Teyvat, and one of the most prosperous nations. Going on to monologue about how he will pave the way for business and prosperity using his contracts and all that blah blah blah.

Well, he couldn’t help but make fun of him about that, now could he.

Leading to Rex Lapis snapping back about how he can’t contribute anything to his nation beyond drunken songs.

Well jokes on him.

Mondstadt is now the nation of drunken songs. 

The best in fact.

Sure it could be considered a waste of time to change the water in Mondstadt specifically so that it would be the best for wine brewing.

But the wine industry is now one of Mondstadt's main sources of revenue.

It was a calculated business decision and completely not related to the grumbling of some winemakers about having to purify the water multiple times to get a good yield.

A familiar presence approaches, the wind whispers.

Venti perks up as he hears a familiar set of footsteps approach.

“Tone deaf Bard,” an excitable voice exclaimed. “I knew he’d be here.”

The bard in question swiveled around in his seat to face the Traveler and Paimon, pasting a cheerful smile on his face.

“Traveler, we meet again, why don’t you sit down, we can share a drink or ten.”

The golden haired teen rolled their eyes at his, admittedly cheesy rhyme.

“I need your help with something,”

Their voice is serious.

In all honesty he hasn’t seen them this serious since what happened with Dvalin.

Venti took a quick peek over at Master Diluc, still serving other customers, great!.

He quickly slipped out of his seat and followed the Traveler out of the Angel’s Share.

Once they’ve reached an appropriately secluded spot, they turned to him.

Paimon and the Traveler exchange glances.

This must be pretty serious for even Paimon to sober up like that.

“Venti,” they ask, “We need to ask you and Dvalin a favor.”

Me, and Dvalin?

What could-

“The creator of Teyvat is back.”

~~~

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

I was thinking of doing something special for part 10, haven't really decided but I'll keep you guys posted.

Thanks so much for your kind words of encouragement.

You guys are the only reason I've gotten this far in the story so far.

As always my askbox is open, for any questions, theories, etc etc

Taglist:@bunniotomia,@lucid-stories, @ymechi, @chocogi,  @ra404, @ash1, @esthelily, @tottybear, @mmeatt, @quacking-simp, @reemthetheme, @universallyenthusiastsage, @resident-cryptid, @fantasyhopperhea, @thedevioussmirk, @etherisy, @naynayaa ,@mel-star636, @chericia, @aithane, @mmeatt, @xrosegorex, @amidst-the-tempest, @8-sinner-8, @reapersan, @elementalia ,@strangeygirl, @chaoticfivesworld, @scalyalpaca, @avalordream,@ranshin03, @vvyeislazzy, @wishicouldart, @raykayrei

[theinsidiousdice]

Things to know before starting dragon HRT

When your scales come in, they will itch. Have scale polish and hydrocortisone handy. Remember, proper care now will lead to shinier, tougher scales in the future.

Remember what it felt like to have braces? Your mouth is going to change shape even more, and all of your teeth will be replaced. During this part of the process, you'll need to stick to liquids and soft foods.

Your horns, wings, and tail will hurt coming in, and they'll affect your balance until you get used to them. It's recommended to keep a cane handy in case there are some days where you can't keep yourself upright.

Likewise, when your legs shift to digitigrade, you'll need to plan for time to stay off your feet, as well as dedicated time for physical therapy to relearn how to walk. When this happens varies from person to person, so when you notice your legs hurting, make sure to call your xenoendocrinologist as soon as possible to schedule your PT.

Some people's tongues will split, and some don't. We don't know why. Regardless, it's good to keep in mind that it may not happen to you, so you can keep your expectations at an appropriate level.

Your changes will most likely be less pronounced than the people held up as golden examples of "what transition can do". Regardless, nearly all people report significant satisfaction with their results.

Breathing fire (or other elements) requires surgery to implant a special sac that does not grow in through the use of hormones alone. The exception to this is breathing carbon dioxide, since most people do this by default.

The mental changes are more subtle than the physical. You'll likely notice an increase in hoarding behavior, a preference for dim light, and heightened emotional sensitivity.

Your entire wardrobe will need to be replaced, or at least modified heavily. Make sure to look for pants that can accommodate a tail and shirts that can accommodate wings.

Expect an increase in both muscle and fatty tissue.

If you live somewhere with pronounced winters, be prepared to bundle up to counteract the effects of cold weather on the cold-blooded.

Once your wings come in, resist the urge to fly until you've had the proper training. Flying before your wings are ready can result in permanent damage.

The effects of hormones will be able to be hidden for roughly the first three months or so. Past that, if you're not out of the closet, you will be soon.

No matter how frustrating and slow the process may seem, have patience and enjoy the feeling of growing into your body!

[dinodaweeb]

Lets Dine With The Fine Batman x gn!Detective!reader

summary: you’ve been invited over for dinner as a thank you from the Wayne family. Things get a little heated between you and Bruce and not in the sexy way.

You couldn’t believe you were here again.

Wayne Manor, for dinner this time. After the chaos at the gala, you’d hoped to avoid another encounter with Gotham’s elite for a good while. But when Bruce Wayne himself extended an invitation, insisting it was to thank you for your “bravery” during the robbery, it was hard to refuse without raising suspicion.

Not like you could refuse either way. It’s Bruce Wayne.

So here you were, standing awkwardly in the grand foyer once more, waiting to be led to the dining room. The suit you wore this time was slightly more comfortable, thanks to a last-minute alteration. Still, the formality of it all made your skin itch. You were a detective, not a socialite.

“Detective [Y/n],” Alfred greeted you warmly as he appeared from one of the side halls. “Mr. Wayne is expecting you. If you’d follow me, please.”

You nodded, mumbling a quick “Thank you,” before following the butler. Your eyes scanned the lavish surroundings—once again, you felt out of place among the wealth and opulence. The smell of polished wood and expensive cologne filled the air, mixing with the faint aroma of a gourmet dinner being prepared in the kitchen.

The place was large but you felt comfortable around Alfred.

As you entered the dining room, you were greeted by the sight of Bruce Wayne and his adopted sons already seated around the large, ornate table.

…

Of course dinner was with the kids.

(But it felt intimate)

Was this appropriate? To interrupt their dinner because Bruce invited you. You hoped he didn’t do this often. The atmosphere seemed warm, relaxed even, but there was an undercurrent of something more… alert. The way they watched you, as if assessing, made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Detective,” Bruce said with a smile, rising from his seat to greet you. His handshake was firm, his demeanor as charming as ever. His fingers felt rough.

Not what you expected for a billionaire playboy.

“I’m glad you could join us.”

“Thanks for the invitation, Mr. Wayne,” you replied, doing your best to sound polite.

“Please, call me Bruce.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease as you took the seat offered to you. The boys greeted you with varying levels of enthusiasm—Dick with his usual friendliness, Tim with a polite nod and the smallest of all smiles, Damian with what was perhaps poorly hidden disgust or neutral (you couldn’t tell.) And Jason… with a mischievous grin and a slight wink. It was clear Jason was the most relaxed of the group, a stark contrast to the tense environment you had expected.

Or maybe Dick was.

Either way the boys seemed to be up to something.

Dinner began without much fanfare. The conversation was light, touching on safe topics—Gotham’s latest charitable events, the rebuilding of the areas affected by the gala attack, the state of the city in general.

But you couldn’t keep your mind off the events of that night. The way Nightwing and Red Hood had shown up out of nowhere, the strange behavior of Bruce, and the constant presence of Batman near the Waynes.

Halfway through the meal, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You decided to voice what had been on your mind.

“So,” you started, trying to sound casual as you sliced into your steak, “I noticed something the other night… at the gala.”

Four pairs of eyes, plus Bruce’s, snapped to you.

“Really? What did you notice, Detective?” Bruce asked smoothly, though you didn’t miss the slight tension in his voice.

You leaned forward slightly, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. “It’s just… does Batman often show up around you guys? I mean, Nightwing was there too, and Red Hood. It seemed like they were… protecting you. Or watching you.”

The boys exchanged glances—ones that were almost imperceptible to anyone not trained to see them. A flash of surprise in Damian’s eyes, a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like panic in Tim’s, Jason avoided eye contact, and Dick’s usually easygoing expression tightening just a bit.

Bruce was the first to recover, letting out a low chuckle. “Batman and his allies? Protecting us? That’s an interesting observation.”

“Interesting, but not far from the truth, Bruce,” you pressed, feeling a sense of urgency to convey what you’d been mulling over since that night. “Think about it—Gotham’s most notorious vigilante, plus his sidekicks, showing up at events you’re attending, then escorting you out like it’s nothing. It’s like they’re keeping tabs on you.”

“It’s creepy, no?”

“You think Batman is keeping tabs on us?” Jason asked, his tone half-amused, half-curious.

“Exactly,” you replied, nodding. “And maybe you all too. I mean, you’ve got to admit it’s strange how he always seems to be around.”

The room fell silent, the boys exchanging more significant glances this time. It was clear they were trying to hold back their reactions. Finally, Bruce broke the silence.

“Detective, Batman’s presence is part of the job,” Bruce said smoothly. “We’ve learned to live with it.”

“You’ve learned to live with it?” you repeated, your frustration rising. “He’s constantly around you. It seems like he’s all over you.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” Bruce said, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Gotham needs its protectors.”

Your frustration boiled over. “Look, I care about your health and safety. I’m just trying to make sure you’re aware of the risks. I mean, what if something happens and—”

Bruce cut you off with a raised hand. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got it covered.”

“He could be a stalker.” You snapped harshly before breathing slowly.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it from where I’m standing,” you shot back, unable to keep the edge out of your voice. “You’re acting like it’s all just business as usual.”

“Because it is,” Bruce said, his tone firm. “I handle it. I’m used to it.”

“Jerk,” you muttered under your breath, crossing your arms.

The boys exchanged knowing looks. Dick’s lips twitched into a smile, Tim tried to stifle a chuckle, Damian’s eyes held a hint of amusement, and Jason seemed to be barely containing his laughter.

Alfred, who had been standing quietly by the side, cleared his throat. “Perhaps it’s best if we focus on enjoying the evening. Detective [Y/n], I assure you, Mr. Wayne is more than capable of handling his affairs.”

You shot Bruce a final frustrated glance. “Fine. But if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Bruce’s smile widened slightly. “Understood. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

As Alfred began to clear the plates, you remembered something you’d brought with you. You reached into your jacket and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package.

“Actually, Alfred,” you began, your tone shifting as you slid the box across the table toward him, “I brought something for you.”

Alfred looked at the package with mild surprise. “For me?”

You nodded. “It’s not much, just a little something to say thank you. For everything.”

Alfred’s eyes softened as he unwrapped the box, revealing a set of finely crafted cufflinks. “This is quite exquisite” he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to,” you insisted, feeling slightly self-conscious under everyone’s gaze. “After all, it’s you who has served me my food, cooked it, and hosted this.”

You gave a side eye. “I assume Mr. Wayne did his part too.”

“I said, call me Bruce.”

“Hmph.”

Alfred’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile as he nodded. “I’m deeply touched. Thank you.”

The mood in the room shifted, with the boys exchanging amused glances. Even Damian seemed to crack a slight smile.

God, you weren’t aware that child could make a face like that around you.

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Bruce said, his tone warming as he regarded you. “Alfred doesn’t often receive gifts.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, Alfred’s last gift was Damian’s disastrous attempt at breakfast last Christmas.”

“That was one time,” Damian grumbled, glaring at Jason. “And I was eight.”

The playful banter eased the earlier tension, and the conversation turned to lighter topics. The feeling in your belly bloomed quickly, like a fire.

As the evening drew to a close, you found yourself unexpectedly enjoying the company. The Waynes were more than just a wealthy family—they were a quirky, tight-knit group, and it was oddly comforting to be included in their dynamic.

When it was time to leave, Bruce walked you to the door. You decided to speak with him.

“Mr.Way— Bruce. Apologies for uh getting a little heated back there. I’m not the most..” you rubbed your nape shyly. “Social.”

“Detective [Y/n],” he began, his voice sincere, “You are always welcomed. I understand your concern but I ask that you trust in me. but I appreciate you coming. You’ll be back sometime right? Maybe for movie or a game of pool?”

You blinked, taken aback by the admission. “It’s alright, Bruce. I get that you have your own way of doing things. Pool sounds nice.”

Bruce offered you a small, almost apologetic smile before turning to Alfred, who was still holding the box you’d given him.

The bid you farewell as you went into your taxi.

As you stepped out into the cool Gotham night, your thoughts were a calm. The evening had been an unexpected experience but you were satisfied.

Now, you planned on scheduling a meeting with the vigilante himself, Batman.

a/n: if u rlly want I’ll do a part 3. Also it’s late af so sorry if it’s not like KAPOOM or smth. G’noght :3

[leroibobo]

some notes on specifically "middle eastern" (mashriqi + iran, caucuses, and turkey) jewish communities/history:

something to keep in mind: judaism isn't "universalist" like christianity or islam - it's easier to marry into it than to convert on your own. conversions historically happened, but not in the same way they did for european and caucasian christians/non-arab muslims.

that being said, a majority of middle eastern jews descend from jewish population who remained in palestine or immigrated/were forced (as is the case with "kurdish" jews) from palestine to other areas and mixed with locals/others who came later (which at some point stopped). pretty much everywhere in the middle east and north africa (me/na) has/had a jewish population like this.

with european jews (as in all of them), the "mixing" was almost entirely during roman times with romans/greeks, and much less later if they left modern-day greece/italy.

(none of this means jewish people are or aren't "indigenous" to palestine, because that's not what that word means.)

like with every other jewish diaspora, middle eastern jewish cultures were heavily influenced by wherever they ended up. on a surface level you can see this in things like food and music.

after the expulsion of jews from spain and portugal, sephardim moved to several places around the world; many across me/na, mostly to the latter. most of the ones who ended up in the former went to present-day egypt, palestine, lebanon, syria, and turkey. a minority ended up in iraq (such as the sassoons' ancestors). like with all formerly-ottoman territories, there was some degree of back and forth between countries and continents.

some sephardim intermarried with local communities, some didn't. some still spoke ladino, some didn't. there was sometimes a wealth gap between musta'arabim and sephardim, and/or they mostly didn't even live in the same places, like in palestine and tunisia. it really depends on the area you're looking at.

regardless, almost all the jewish populations in the area went through "sephardic blending" - a blending of local and sephardic customs - to varying degrees. it's sort of like the cultural blending that came with spanish/portugese colonization in central and south america (except without the colonization).

how they were treated also really depends where/when you're looking. some were consistently dealt a raw hand (like "kurdish" and yemenite jews) while some managed to do fairly well, all things considered (like baghdadi and georgian jews). most where somewhere in between. the big difference between me/na + some balkan and non-byzantine european treatment of jews is due to geography - attitudes in law regarding jews in those areas tended to fall into different patterns.

long story short: most european governments didn't consider anyone who wasn't "christian" a citizen (sometimes even if they'd converted, like roma; it was a cultural/ethnic thing as well), and persecuted them accordingly; justifying this using "race science" when religion became less important there after the enlightenment.

most me/na and the byzantine governments considered jews (and later, christians) citizens, but allowed them certain legal/social opportunities while limiting/banning/imposing others. the extent of both depend on where/when you're looking but it was never universally "equal".

in specifically turkey, egypt, palestine, and the caucuses, there were also ashkenazi communities, who came mainly because living as a jew in non-ottoman europe at the time sucked more than in those places. ottoman territories in the balkans were also a common destination for this sort of migration.

in the case of palestine, there were often religious motivations to go as well, as there were for some other jews who immigrated. several hasidic dynasites more or less came in their entirety, such as the lithuanian/polish/hungarian ones which precede today's neutrei karta.

ashkenazi migration didn't really happen until jewish emancipation in europe for obvious reasons. it also predates zionism - an initially secular movement based on contemporaneous european nationalist ideologies - by some centuries.

most ashkenazi jews today reside in the us, while most sephardic or "mizrahi" jews are in occupied palestine. there, the latter outnumber the former. you're more likely to find certain groups (like "kurds" and yemenites) in occupied palestine than others (like persians and algerians) - usually ones without a western power that backed them from reactionary antisemitic persecution and/or who came from poorer communities. (and no, this doesn't "justify" the occupation).

(not to say there were none who immigrated willingly/"wanted" to go, or that none/all are zionist/anti-zionist. (ben-gvir is of "kuridsh" descent, for example.) i'm not here to parse motivations.)

this, along with a history of racism/chauvinism from the largely-ashkenazi "left", are why many mizrahim vote farther "right".

(in some places, significant numbers of the jewish community stayed, like turkey, tunisia, and iran. in some others, there's evidence of double/single-digit and sometimes crypto-jewish communities.)

worldwide, the former outnumber the latter. this is thought to be because of either a medieval ashkenazi population boom due to decreased population density (not talking about the "khazar theory", which has been proven to be bullshit, btw) or a later, general european one in the 18th/19th centuries due to increased quality of life.

the term "mizrahi" ("oriental", though it doesn't have the same connotation as in english) in its current form comes from the zionist movement in the 1940s/50s to describe me/na jewish settlers/refugees.

(i personally don't find it useful outside of israeli jewish socio-politics and use it on my blog only because it's a term everyone's familiar with.)

about specifically palestinian jews:

the israeli term for palestinian jews is "old yishuv". yishuv means settlement. this is in contrast to the "new yishuv", or settlers from the initial zionist settlement period in 1881-1948. these terms are usually used in the sense of describing historical groups of people (similar to how you would describe "south yemenis" or "czechoslovaks").

palestinian jews were absorbed into the israeli jewish population and have "settler privilege" on account of their being jewish. descendants make up something like 8% of the israeli jewish population and a handful (including, bafflingly, netanyahu and smoltrich) are in the current government.

they usually got to keep their property unless it was in an "arab area". there's none living in gaza/the west bank right now unless they're settlers.

their individual views on zionism vary as much as any general population's views vary on anything.

(my "palestinian jews" series isn't intended to posit that they all think the same way i do, but to show a side of history not many people know about. any "bias" only comes from the fact that i have a "bias" too. this is a tumblr blog, not an encyclopedia.)

during the initial zionist settlement period, there were palestinian/"old yishuv" jews who were both for zionism and against it. the former have been a part of the occupation and its government for pretty much its entire history.

some immigrated abroad before 1948 and may refer to themselves as "syrian jews". ("syria" was the name given to syria/lebanon/palestine/some parts of iraq during ottoman times. many lebanese and palestinian christians emigrated at around the same time and may refer to themselves as "syrian" for this reason too.)

ones who stayed or immigrated after for whatever reason mostly refer to themselves as "israeli".

in israeli jewish society, "palestinian" usually implies muslims and christians who are considered "arab" under israeli law. you may get differing degrees of revulsion/understanding of what exactly "palestine"/"palestinians" means but the apartheid means that palestinian =/= jewish.

because of this, usage of "palestinian" as a self-descriptor varies. your likelihood of finding someone descendent from/with ancestry from the "old yishuv" calling themselves a "palestinian jew" in the same way an israeli jew with ancestry in morocco would call themselves a "moroccan jew" is low.

(i use it on here because i'm assuming everyone knows what i mean.)

samaritans aren't 'jewish', they're their own thing, though they count as jewish under israeli law.

[gojira-ekkusu]

A Different Beast

Beast Wrestler (ビースト・ウォリアーズ "Beast Warriors") was one of the first monster fighting games. Released in 1991 for Sega Genesis/Mega Drive, it is notable for its unique style and concept.

Yasushi Nirasawa was the man responsible designing the game's monsters, dubbed Dragon Warriors. Nirawasa's designs have appeared in various Tokusatsu productions such as Kamen Rider, but perhaps his most famous would be the 2004 redesign of Gigan for Godzilla Final Wars (He was also responsible for the Xilien designs in the film as well).

Back in 1991, Nirasawa was primarily known for his sculptures and models featured in, and on the covers of Hobby Japan. The box art for Beast Wrestler showcases his work. The image was prominently used in the print advertising.

The Dragon Warriors all quite varied, ranging from humanoid animals to an ooze. Some with various levels of cybernetics and some had truly chimeric designs.

Instead of randomized fights each match of the Tournament is fixed. The player is the "ruler" of a ENTSLL 2019 Dragon Warrior and starts at the bottom of the Domestic Rank to work up to the top of the World Rank.

Yasushi Nirasawa did a six-page comic that was in the instruction manual for the Japanese version of the game. It gives a look at the world where genetically engineered 10 meter tall monsters battle in the arena.

Aside from the designs and the setting, the other defining feature of the game is the concept of combining your Dragon Warrior with a vanquished opponent.

The first time, the player gets two options for combining. This sets up two different paths for completing the World Rank. Based on this decision, a different Dragon Warrior is used in each path to combine for a second form.

While there is much to appreciate about the concept and designs, the gameplay is a shortcoming. The hit boxes don't correspond well and fights are slow. There are some loops and exploits that help with the difficulty, but that doesn't lead to a satisfying victory.

The game also has a Match mode for a fight against the computer or another player, using some of the Domestic and World Rank fighters. Unfortunately, this mode is also is subject to the same issues and the Dragon Warriors are very unbalanced.

It would be fun to see this game made today with modern game technology and design. Yasushi Nirasawa's detailed creations could really come to life. Also, it would be great to see more and varied combinations of beasts.

With a little more time and polish, Beast Wrestler could have been a cult game. Instead, it's an interesting obscurity.

[rickktish]

A list of mutable batfam headcanons that live inside my brain:

Steph deserves to be 6’ minimum, preferably 6’1” or 2”

Bruce is constantly trying to balance his need to be at the same eye level or above the people he’s intimidating vs his need to do his funky little gargoyle crouch. His favorite thing about the GCPD roof is that it has lots of surfaces he can crouch on and still meet or look down at Gordon’s eye level

Tim and Damian suffer from “too similar to get along” disease and must either become best friends or despise each other until the end of time

Babs prefers light, natural toned makeup. Steph prefers pops of color and decent amounts of jewelry when she can get away with it. Cass prefers jewelry and no makeup at all

Jason’s comfort meals are all variations on soup served with bread for dipping

Jason is of the opinion that Fitzwilliam Darcy is an ass at the beginning of the book and it’s a good thing he decided to change himself so he could take his place as Best Fictional Man Ever. Dick, who read the book in order to be able to connect with Jason better, is of the opinion that Fitzwilliam Darcy has done nothing wrong ever and only needed to work on his social skills, meaning that it’s his improved ability to communicate that makes him worthy of Elizabeth Bennet at the end. Neither of them wants to listen to Tim’s analysis of what this says about their relationships with Bruce

Duke has never engaged in non-Alfred approved chaos. This is not because Duke seeks Alfred’s approval, but rather because their senses of humor are in perfect alignment and Alfred is always pleased to discover that he approves of Duke’s particular instances of chaos even after the fact

Damian never had stuffed animals growing up, but after being corrupted by Dick’s influence he can no longer sleep without a minimum of one in his bed

Damian collects posters and articulable action figures. His favorite ones are the ones that can stand on their own, which he uses for posing practice in his drawings. His favorite figure is of one of the characters in Cheese Vikings who has a zuko-esque backstory and a secret propensity for gardening

Dick always buys the most beat up box of cereal at the grocery store because he feels bad for them

Cass loves not only ballet, but other works by classical composers as well. She will unironically listen to the local classical station, and can identify the Borodin String Quartet by the sound of their instruments alone

Tim and Bruce watch and read Gray Ghost media in all its various forms and discuss it together as a bonding activity

Alfred and Jason’s shared birthday is usually celebrated with them making each other cakes, meaning that everyone gets to enjoy not one but two cakes for the day

Jason specializes in cheesecake above all other cakes, though he did make Damian a black forest cake for his birthday once right after he’d finished playing Portal

Literally everyone is surprised when they learn that Damian plays video games. No one has ever once looked at him and thought “yeah, i bet that kid plays console games” and he’s actually really insecure about it, but he also refuses to wear any kind of merch outside the house. He owns dozens of gaming and anime T-shirts but refuses to be seen as anything but completely neutral outside his own territory

Most of the bats wear drug-detecting nail polish at all times, though the base and reactive colors vary by the bat in question

Bruce and Dick have both had therapists straightup quit on them and are therefore reluctant to go back to therapy ever again

Duke’s favorite book is Walden Pond

Alfred read Lord of the Rings aloud to Bruce when he was a kid

[ot3]

went through my procreate files tonight since i already got as much bad drawing in as i can handle for the evening. now that im not doing patreon at all anymore id like to unpaywall all the sketches and lineart i had up there for people to color. pulled some newer sketches. looks like i should have around ~70 ish drawings of varying level of complexity and polish that people are free to fuck around with. ill see if i can get them stuck up on ko-fi later this week maybe

[klaunee]

Adam Drawing Requests: OPEN!

Yes ✅ - New Forms for Adam - Suggestive Artwork - Adam x Neutral Self-Insert - Platonic Interactions with Other Characters - Mild Gore/Violence

Meh... (Deprioritized) - Romantic Interactions with Other Characters (not Self-Insert)

No🚫 - Full on NSFW - Extreme Gore

Inbox is open babes, go wild!

No guarantee when or if I'll draw them. Level of polish may vary.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

What would the bg3 companions do if Tav fixed a home-made meal and cleaned up their stuff for them, studio ghibli style?

I had to take quite a bit of time to think on this one because it would vary wildly depending on /when/ this happened. So, I am re-using my favorite scenario that was widely popularized over 20 years ago by the Gundam Wing fandom for fanfiction purposes, and we are going to say:

"The companions find a safe house where they must hole-up for several weeks before a major confrontation/continuing their journey. It provides a needed opportunity for respite and recovery, a moment to breathe in the eye of the storm." timeline: late Act 3

Tav prepares a home-made meal that takes them the entire day to make. Grilled fish fresh from the river, bread from scratch with herbs from the garden folded into it and butter spread across the top. Potatoes from the garden sliced, seasoned, roasted. Chicken caught and killed that very morning and boiled into a stew with pounds of fresh vegetables - and more. Yams, parsnips, salad greens, All they could find in the cellar, in the surrounding abandoned garden and small farmstead they had settled in. The type of meal that filled a table so thoroughly there was almost no place left to sit if one tried to have their meal at the table.

It had been so long since they had a home to care for, and this journey had given precious little time for such things as careful cleaning and cooking. The little cottage was full of delicious smells, a warm fire burned in the hearth and heated the entire space. The companions, who had all been out for the day on various missions, arrived back to find not only this, but more.

All of the clothes laundered, scented with lavender from the garden. All of their armor polished and scrubbed, weapons cleaned, packs tidied. Rooms swept of cobwebs, bedding replaced. Perhaps a little bit of magic had been used, for everything was dry as well as clean. How would they respond?

Gale: Warmth and joy. He breaks out into a huge smile and fills the room with compliments on everything youve done. A stickler for detail and known for his verbosity, he leaves out no single comment nor does he miss the chance to reflect on what each detail reminds him of - his mothers cooking, his home, the soul-brightening joy of fresh bedding pulled tightly over a clean mattress. He would do all of the clean up after dinner, showing his appreciation not only in words but affirming them with his actions as well.

Karlach: She gets choked up. Honestly. "you didnt have to" isnt on her mind at all, shes just incredibly grateful. You get the biggest bear hug and a shuddering voice of gratitude in your ear. It hasnt been just 'so long' since shes had this level of care- she never has. Nothing like this. She will remember this for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that life may be. You gave her something that healed a part of her permanently.

Wyll: Flushed and flustered. HE would be heavy on the "you shouldnt have- I would have helped! had you only asked-" Embarassed almost, in the way that he responds, as if he feels bad that he hadnt been able to pre-empt this scenario and find a way of doing it for you first. He feels... guilty. Tries to hide it with gratitude. Is a little quieter than usual.

Lae'zel: Asks what you expect in exchange for services rendered. Makes a quip about you being suited for running an inn as much as you are for battle. Clears her plate, then another. Goes a little quiet for a moment. Then: "You didnt need to. A waste of your time to cater to us thusly. (long pause) .... thank you."

Shadowheart: Questions why, wonders if youve done it to soften the blow of some oncoming bad news. Spends most of her time teasing the other companions for their reactions but in a way where its clear that shes guiding them towards more grateful responses. She smiles at you warmly and softly across the table, eyes twinkling. Her gentle teasing of you is filled with subtle offers of repaying the kindness in ways that you will not be able to expect or predict later on so that she may surprise you in kind. Also, to ensure you cannot reject her because you dont know whats coming or when.

Halsin: Very clearly thanks you with direct eye contact. If your relationship is good, he holds both your hands in his and gives them a firm but caring squeeze. All of his feelings are in his eyes and his words are exceptionally heartfelt and to the point. He has no issues with being appreciative or straightforward, and this meant a lot to him. Offers to run your bath for you later, since Gale is doing the dishes. Probably offers to wash your hair. Comes on to you a bit, he cant help it. Heart eyes 1000%

Astarion: Awkward. Uncomfortable. Initially tries to play it off with pomp and flourish, goes to hint that you just wanted to rifle through everyones things while no one was home. Does, actually, double check all of his belongings. You cant fault him for being who he is. Questions you with a deep frown, but waits to do so until he has you cornered in the back of the hallway where he waited for you to come out of the privy. You reassure him, and hes huffy about it. It takes a lot for him to go from accusational to deflated. Laments he cant enjoy the meal you prepared, only to be presented with a live hog in the store room and a bottle of red wine. You didnt forget. He stares, stutters out his gratitude. Does not apologize for grilling you. Body language towards you for the next few days has a distinct affectionate companionability to it. Small genuine smiles half hidden behind wine glasses.

[airborneice]

as we know I’ve been rotating the lack of timtum content in my brain lately soo out of curiosity, would anyone be interested if I opened up some art trades for the lil guy? I’d love to see more art of timtum that isn’t mine and I would be very happy to draw a hilda oc/character of someone’s choosing as a thank you :)

what I’m thinking is if you draw the guy in any way shape or form, in return you get a drawing from me that’s something like one of these? (so the level of polish might vary depending on the trade and the complexity of the character but it’d be at least a coloured or toned sketch):

i’d like this to be a very relaxed thing, open to anyone who wants to do it, any art medium you like, any level of polish, it can be even a doodle on a post-it if u want, I’d just really like to see more art of this guy!! I feel like he’s a nice chill character to draw so it could be fun!!

if anyone’s interested feel free to shoot me a DM with your character of choice and we can discuss :)

[nikeatyquis]

The culture of kissing in the 18th century varies regionally, although in the culture of Eastern Europe, including the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, kissing another man was not associated with romance and was common among people of both sexes. Representatives of the upper classes kissed as a sign of friendship, humility and respect, and the places of kissing were differentiated depending on status, age, level of relationship and the ceremony of the meeting. Friends often kissed each other on the face, neck or shoulders. It was common to kiss hands, and the greatest sign of respect was kissing knees or shoes. There were often kiss fights in which nobles tried to show humility trough a kiss, so often one tried to kiss the other "more and lower". Something unbelievable for 18th century French man.

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #3

Prompt #3: Battle

It's a bit peculiar that Subway Master Emmet wears white all the time. The commuters just think it's a 'twins' thing- the depot agents know better. In other words, Emmet's tailor hates him.

*Inspired directly by @kobandan. Their comic for day two absolutely activated the few neurons in my noggin.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Wrappers crunched. Small talk and loud chatter alike filtered in and out of the office as footsteps echoed on the polished linoleum.

“C’mon Ingo! Relax a little!” From within her chair right beside Ingo, Elesa reached across the table into the takeout bag, pulling out a handful of loose fries. “You know, there’s a concert that’s gonna be happening in Virbank this weekend,” she hummed, taking a sip of her drink. “The one with that singer that you liked back when we were teenagers. What’s his name again? Piers, I think? And then you got Emmet into it too!” Elesa then brightened.  “I know! You should come with me! Both of you guys! I have extra tickets and I think it would be nice- to reintroduce you to that kind of stuff.” Elesa playfully nudged Ingo in the ribs with her elbow. “A fun little bonding activity~ Well? Come on. What do you think, Go-Go?

“A…band? Ah, but aren’t musical concerts quite… loud?” Ingo replied hesitantly. It had been some time since he had returned from Hisui and he had found that the modern world was… well, to put it mildly, ‘loud’ would be an understatement. The Battle Subway was loud enough- Ingo often found himself making a beeline to his and Emmet’s office to recover from the mental strain of working in such a vivacious environment. But he found himself warming up to the idea more and more as his friend enthusiastically elaborated, taking small bites out of the ‘loaded burger’ that Elesa had so quickly jumped to buy for him.

               At that moment, the door to the main office clattered open. Boots clicked on linoleum. Fabric shuffled. Keys jangled.

               In strode Emmet, a massive grin on his face as he closed the office door with one foot, hanging his hat on the stand and ripping off his gloves. Upon seeing both Ingo and Elesa leaning up against one another, the man practically beamed. He opened his mouth to speak. Elesa beat him to the punch.

“Em... Honey... Sweetheart. What in dragons’ name happened to you?” Elesa immediately set down her food but made no attempt to rise, leaning back in her chair with a disgusted expression as she gave the man a slow once-over. “Your clothes!” The woman then stiffened, crossing her arms. “Tell me you didn’t go and service another engine with your battling gear. You have a bad habit of forgetting to change.”

“I. Did not!” Emmet pulled off his subway coat and half-fell into an empty spinning chair, picking his feet up as his chair rocketed into the wall. He then pushed himself over to his desk and eagerly pulled over his stack of maintenance documents. “This isn’t oil. It’s dust. Soot. Ash.”

               Emmet’s entire outfit- his usual sparkling white slacks, jacket, hat, and dress shoes- each were stained and smudged with varying levels of grime, each atrocious and each downright offensive. His hat and slacks were splashed in sickly purples and greens, speckled black patches like soot decorating his shoes and slack edges. His jacket had numerous holes in the tail end as though a dragon-type had gnawed on it and a few buttons had either been torn close to falling off or were gone entirely. A massive chunk of Emmet’s hat- including the Gear Station insignia pin- were just completely gone, exposing the stuffing and the nylon inside.

Even Emmet’s standard black dress shirt and gloves were completely ruined. The starched collar and sleeves of Emmet’s shirts had what looked to be bleach spots on them, one of his shirt tails completely untucked and shredded to bits. His black gloves were almost completely white to the fingertips, the leather around the knuckles- concertedly- missing as if cleanly taken out with a hole punch.

Emmet didn’t look the least concerned that half of the skin along his arms and a section of his leg were completely visible, instead seeming to enjoy the attention as he tapped his foot against the tile. His own hair- messy and half-alive with static, was blown backward as if Emmet had decided to go skydiving for the first portion of his shift.

               Ingo raised an eyebrow. An inkling of his mind raised the question that he wasn’t nearly as concerned for his brother as he should’ve been. As if it was something to be expected and just as easily tolerated.  “You are unusually chipper for a man that’s filthy and practically indecent,” Ingo murmured, locking eyes with Emmet who leaned his head against his hand lazily. “You look as though you’ve crawled through the insides of an unmaintained tender.” Ingo took a long swig from his drink, narrowing his eyes. “Slept in one, too.”

               Emmet smirked. “You’re one to talk. The water ran black when you were reintroduced to modern plumbing,” he drawled, still staring unflinchingly into Ingo’s eyes. “You thought being dirty was normal. And you were covered in actual, literal dirt.”

               Ingo immediately felt his face heat up. “That is not the point here!” he claimed, not quite meeting Emmet’s eyes as he crossed his arms. “Why do you look as though you’ve strapped yourself to the tracks and let numerous trains run over you?”

               Elesa snorted, almost choking on her drink. Her entire face went flush as she began laughing. “That’s one way to put it, Iggs!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Elesa” Emmet chided, his own face beginning to redden as he scooted his chair purposefully away from the two of them. “That is not what happened.”

“Would you care to explain then, Emmet?”

               Emmet grinned before unclipping his pokémon belt and setting it on the desk for both Elesa and Ingo to see. Almost every single pokéball was in the same state of disrepair: burn marks, scrapes, dents, and dings in each one. “A verrry powerful trainer visited my line today!” Emmet beamed. “They arrived with a looot of super strong pokémon! It was very cool! They brought friends! A lot of strong friends! It was fantastic!” Emmet then hunkered down into himself, bringing his shaking hand to his chin as he snatched up a loose piece of paper, frantically scribbling down barely legible words. “I should remember that. ‘Follow Me’ on a bulky pokémon- preferably attached with a defense-boosting item or maybe leftovers. Skill Link Ability pokémon with a Rocky Helmet maybe? Or perhaps Loaded Dice would be better?”

“Okay, so your battle was crazy,” Elesa interjected, carefully but concertedly scanning the massive amounts of damage in Emmet’s outfit. “But how did your clothes get so bad? What’d you do? Stand in front of your pokémon while they were fighting?”

               Ingo involuntarily snorted, struggling to conceal his laughter after remembering that his good friend Dawn used to perform that exact same scenario when they were still in Hisui- to psych out the few wielders that existed. That or just mess about. Ingo could perfectly imagine Emmet doing the same right in front of his Eelektross.

“Overheat,” Emmet started, pointing to the massive burn streaks staining his shoes. “Acid Spray.” Another gesture to his heavily bleached shirt. “Bug Buzz.” The torn threads in his shirt. “Discharge.” Another pointed finger at the torn fabric on his jacket sleeves. “The battle was verrry serious! So much fun! They used all kinds of new strategies that I haven’t seen before! They brought a bunch of new pokémon! Them and their friends! There were six of them!” Emmet exclaimed, his grin growing wider and wider as he rocked back-and-forth in his chair, causing the frame to squeak. “Each one stronger and smarter than the last!”

“Did you at least win, Em?” Elesa asked tiredly. “You better have. Getting all that fixed is gonna cost a pretty penny.”

               Emmet’s grin almost stretched across his face as he fully leaned back in his chair. “All six of them won against me! Just barely! It was the most fun I’ve had in months! I hope they return to the Super Doubles Line soon so that I can battle them again!”

“Wait. The Super Doubles Line?” Elesa clarified. “As in, the ‘challenging trainer usually gets obliterated by the seventh car’ Doubles Line? The ‘nothing but depot agents’ Doubles Line? The- ”

“You can just say that you haven’t prevailed on those particular tracks,” Ingo teased, stealing the rest of the spare fries at the bottom of the bag. “I would never presumably figure out that a record exists of how many times you have been ejected from the Super Singles, Doubles, and Multi Lines. And I would certainly- never- look at those records.” Ingo then blinked innocently at Elesa as he scooted his chair just the tiniest inch away from the woman who looked as though she were about to strangle him.

“You do not have a record!”

“We do!” Emmet replied snappily. “All trainers have their battle facility records locked onto their IDs. It is not hard to find.”

“Nevermind. You’re being overly ominous again and we’re not going down that road. But the Super Doubles Line? Wow. Must’ve been some kind of monsters to get all the way through- the six of them in one day- just to destroy you… You had fun?”

“Yyyup!”

“What on earth are you guys feeding the Depot Agents on your supers lines anyway?” Elesa groaned, pointedly asking Ingo instead of Emmet who had begun to whizz through his papers. “I tried getting through once- way too strong for me.”

“We feed them coal slag and commuter debris,” Ingo answered with a stoic face, crumbling up the wrapper of his burger and tossing it in the nearby trash can. “Food wrappers. Plastic. Newspapers. Chewing gum. Some rust scraps off of repaired engines prevent any potential iron deficiencies.”

“Ah, but you are forgetting grease, Ingo,” Emmet chimed in. “Grease- Curve rail grease is essential for a depot agent’s balanced diet. That and stripped screws. And maybe a healthy serving of handrail and seat sweat.”

“Eugh. You guys are absolute loons,” Elesa responded without missing a beat, fully leaning against Ingo as the woman took a joking picture of Emmet in his atrocious work attire looking completely unbothered. She then sent the picture to Skyla unprompted. “You know, I’ve never seen someone so happy to have lost six times in a row at their place of work,” Elesa commented snidely under her breath. “Did you at least steal some pointers from them like you usually do, Em?”

               At that, Emmet whipped out a small, battered notepad from his coat pocket, eagerly showing off the multitudes upon multitudes of detailed battling graphs, paragraphs of messy handwriting, and heavily highlighted sections. “I did! And now! I want to recruit more pokémon to the team!” He said it more to himself than to Elesa or Ingo, pulling open his desk drawer in order to pull out a thick, heavily-banded book that looked close to bursting.

“Oh sweet dragons above- you’re pulling out Ol’ Reliable, Em? What’s the occasion? Gonna make some more abridgements? Honestly, you should just have the library make a copy- that’s a whole concrete brick right there.”

“Says the woman with five hand-banded design template books twice the size in her house,” Emmet snarked back, struggling to open the cover of his tome. “Let’s see. Eenie, meenie, miney… huh. That’s odd.”

“What’s the matter?” Ingo asked, taking a massive bite out of his second burger. He was quick to wipe the sauce off of his cheek. “What are you looking for?”

“Foreign pokémon.” Emmet then paused, scowling before stowing the book away back under his desk, crossing his arms. “Foreign pokémon,” he grunted. “Abilities. I don’t know the abilities of the pokémon I battled against today. I don’t even remember what the names of the species are.”

“Emmet. You do realize that the Battle Subway collects and archives trainer data during registration, don’t you?” Ingo piped up. “The free connectivity to the C-Gear? To Entralink? To the recommended vs recorder? You were the one to tell me that all trainers must register their preferred pokémon with an attendant before they even so much as board a subway car. Unless perhaps… you did forget about that particular clause…?”

               Emmet was out of his seat in a moment’s notice, the seams in his shirt beginning to splinter and pop apart as the man shoved his hat back onto his head and grabbed his jacket off of the hook, marching squarely over toward the office door. “Be back soon. Next destination: the attendant’s desk.” The door slammed shut after him.

               A moment passed by before Elesa once again reached across the table and pulled out a carton of onion rings alongside Emmet’s burger that he hadn’t even touched. “I call dibs.”

“Absolutely not. I paid for those.”