#(you know how it is)

[vaguely-humanoid-form]

maybe I haven't been looking at the sky

post-sonic 3 fic about stone. stobotnik too. oh yeah baby it's time for some pain.

word count is a bit under 3.6k

featuring: grief like so much grief, lots of hurt, a smidgen of comfort, second-person narration, so many goddamn timestamps, did I mention hurt, acknowledgement of shadow the hedgehog being like an actual teenager, shadow the hedgehog being kind of like a weird cat, the smallest hint of sonadow, and, of course, hurt.

have fun! >:3

p.s.: the title is from Maud Gone by Car Seat Headrest because I like that song and it fits too well

June 24, 2024, 3:26 AM

You wake up.

You don't immediately open your eyes, though, because if you stay in the darkness, you can pretend that everything is alright. You can pretend that nothing's changed.

You can pretend he's still here.

You open your eyes.

It's still dark, and you can only just barely make out the hotel room ceiling above you.

You can hear the soft pitter-patter of the London rain against the window.

You spare a glance at the clock on the bedside table.

You know you won't be able to fall asleep.

Four hours of rest is enough, anyway.

You get up.

You take a shower.

Your reflection in the mirror seems to bore holes through your skull.

You brush your teeth, and you get dressed.

You work, because you have nothing else to do.

You go to get shitty hotel coffee and breakfast.

On instinct, you grab two cups.

You decide you don't want coffee anymore.

June 24, 2024, 12:58 PM

Your lunch is tasteless, and not just because it's British.

You think you would've laughed at that only 24 hours ago.

You don't think about if he would've.

You don't have much to work on.

Your hands itch. Everything feels so still. So static.

You try not to think about it. You try to think about anything else.

You think about how cold it is for a summer day.

You think about the smell of rain on the sidewalk.

You don't look at the sky.

You count your steps to fill your mind with something, anything.

It takes you precisely 673 steps to get back to your hotel from the lunch spot.

You don't think about how odd it feels to walk so slowly.

You don't think about how lonely you are.

You don't think about the Crab sunk in the Thames.

You don't think about him.

June 24, 2024, 7:31 PM

It's been 24 hours since it happened.

You feel empty.

You feel empty and sweaty and gross despite the wind chill and you shower again.

Your reflection stares at you again. It accuses you, blames you. It says it's your fault.

In its eyes, you can almost see something like him.

You cover the mirror.

You get yourself ready for bed, and you lay there under the hotel duvet, air conditioner blasting, and you shiver, but you don't get up to change it.

The Doctor prefers it cold, so–

You stare at the ceiling. It looks blurrier than usual.

You don't fall asleep for another few hours.

June 30, 2024, 1:08 PM

Montana is certainly better than London. At least, you'd say so.

It was a good idea to keep paying the lease on the Mean Bean. It's something you know.

You can't decide whether the familiarity makes you feel better or worse.

At least G.U.N. doesn't want anything to do with you, which you are more than welcome to.

Your “house,” if it can even be called that, what with its studio apartment style, in the back of the Mean Bean feels foreign to you, but the warmth feels nice.

The café stays cold.

You say it's to save money on the heating bill.

You were always good at pretending.

July 23, 2024, 4:23 PM

It's been exactly one month.

The hedgehog visits you today.

You know you should be plotting against him. You should be planning your revenge. You should be scheming to get rid of him once and for all–

But you're just so tired.

And in the end, he didn't want what happened, either.

He smiles at you as he orders a hot chocolate, but you can see the tightness in his face.

You bring up the other hedgehog, Shadow, and he falters for a moment.

You don't smile, not really, but your face softens as you come to an understanding.

You can't talk about him, but listening to Sonic talk about Shadow helps to dull the pain for a moment.

Before he leaves, Sonic gives you a sad smile, and tells you he's sorry about the Doctor.

Your throat closes up.

You stand still as the door opens and closes.

Your hands are shaking as you close.

August 16, 2024, 1:15 PM

Ever since he visited you the first time, Sonic has come back every other day for a hot chocolate and a chat.

The kid seems to always have something to say. You suppose he's hyperactive in many ways.

He's nice to you, and a part of you hates it, but you can't get yourself to get rid of the kid. Even if he says he stops by to check on how you're doing, you know it's helpful for him, too.

Deep down, you feel guilty for commiserating with the enemy. The guilt is something you opt to push down, though, because it makes you think of him.

You're interrupted when Sonic walks through the door with his human quasi-father in tow. Tom, you think his name is.

If you're honest, he looks like shit. His arm is in a cast and he's walking with a slight limp. The bags under his eyes are nothing to scoff at, either, but he gives you a soft smile.

He only orders a water, and drinks it slowly as Sonic chatters at his side about the shop.

You know he's been worried about Tom, and you're glad to see he's alright, but a twinge of resentment bites at you.

Why couldn't have you gotten a happy ending, too?

August 27, 2024, 1:00 PM

He's back again, and he brought his friends: the fox and the echidna.

You freeze for a moment when you see the fox. The conversation you had with him plays in the back of your mind and you relentlessly shoo it away.

The echidna is still annoying, but it's funny to see him order a shot of espresso and then immediately choke when he takes one sip.

When you're not trying to fight each other, they're good kids. You appreciate the effort they're making, at the very least.

It's nice to have noise to fill up the air. Helps quiet the thoughts a little bit, especially when the shop doesn't get much traffic these days.

Chatting with the alien children gives you something to do, too, since you can't do latte art anymore.

Your hands start shaking the moment you try.

So, you listen to them talk: teasing each other, making bad jokes, ranting about this or that.

When they leave, they all say goodbye, and while the silence is still suffocating, you're finding it slightly easier to breathe.

September 10, 2024, 8:01 AM

It's his birthday today, and you can't get yourself out of bed.

You can't even properly cry. Quiet tears roll down your face and stain your pillow.

You can't get back to sleep, either. You don't know if you would even want to. You don't know if you could bear to see his face in your dreams.

You stare at the brick wall, bare of photos or posters or plans, and you can't get yourself to look away.

September 10, 2024, 1:30 PM

The door to your “house” opens and you jump from your bed.

Team Sonic broke into your house.

You would be angry. You should be angry. But you can't muster up the energy.

Sonic says something that you don't register, and Knuckles proudly holds out a messily-made cupcake in front of him.

When you get a closer look…

Oh.

It's for the Doctor.

When you look up, Sonic is giving you that same sad smile he did the first time he came to the cafe. He says he knows how you've been going through a hard time, and that since today is the Doctor’s birthday, he wanted to do something special.

It takes everything in your being to not burst out sobbing in front of the kids.

You all sit around the cupcake and sing to it.

You falter on the name. They don't seem to mind.

You can't bear to eat any of the cupcake, so you stick it in the fridge.

The second those kids are out the door, you cry so hard you can barely stand.

September 12, 2024, 1:12 PM

Tails bursts through the shop door, startling you and the single customer sitting at a table in the corner.

He starts talking, so fast you can only make out a few words.

Before you can tell him to slow down, Sonic runs in after him, smiling brighter than the sun and presenting to you…

…Shadow?

You nearly short-circuit.

How is he alive?

You ask as much, and they all shrug their shoulders, minus Shadow who stands there staring at you without expression.

Apparently, Shadow has some sort of minor amnesia. He can't remember much immediately before…

Well.

But, still, he's alive.

And that sparks something deep in your chest.

You wouldn't dare to believe anything. You know he's… gone.

But a tiny, near molecular voice in the back of your head says what if?

And you can't give into it, but the voice, small as it is, nestles itself in between your cerebrum and cerebellum.

Back to reality, the alien children have decided that Shadow will stay with you.

Their home doesn't have the room for yet another anthropomorphic hedgehog in it, apparently.

You don't seem to have a say in the matter.

You can't say you mind too much.

September 12, 2024, 4:25 PM

You take him in and set up a futon in a clear area of your house.

You give him a tour, which really isn't much considering there are only two actual rooms.

He follows you around, nodding or shaking his head slightly whenever you ask him a question. He's quiet. Shy, even.

You make a simple dinner in silence, and he mumbles a thank you when you hand him his plate.

He falls asleep while you're working, and when you get a closer look at him…

…Did he always look that young?

Minus the 50 years he spent in stasis, he couldn't have been more than 15. Maybe 16, if you're being generous.

His brows furrow in his slumber, painfully familiar, and you're suddenly reminded of the fact that he is, in a way, a Robotnik.

You draw in a sharp breath and blink away the stinging in your eyes.

Maybe you'll sleep early.

September 23, 2024, 1:08 PM

Three months.

It's been three months since it happened, and the pain has only barely dulled.

You're starting to wonder if the coping mechanism of bottling everything up as much as you possibly can isn't working as well as you thought it would.

Shadow has opened up more, at least. He's still quiet and sometimes stares at you, wide-eyed and expressionless, but you've had a good few conversations with him.

You've shown him how to operate some of the coffee machines, even if he isn't quite tall enough to reach them very well on his own.

Every day you spend with him, the more it sets in just how young he is.

For the first week or two after… what happened, you resented him for being a part of it all. But now?

You just see a scared kid.

Team Sonic has been back to the Mean Bean a few times since Shadow arrived. He's incredibly socially awkward and is not one for idle chit-chat, but you've seen a hint of a smile on his face a couple times, and that's enough for you.

His memories have been returning slowly. Despite the voice screaming at you at every waking moment, you don't want to hold out hope. You don't want to be crushed again when the inevitable reality hits you that he is really gone.

You remember when it happened, when three months ago, you watched the Doctor dedicate his last words to you.

You remember going through every stage of grief and then some all at once.

You remember thinking you were done with that process, then, after it hit you like a freight train in all of 20 seconds.

You checked into a hotel, perfectly calm. You went up the elevator, fine. You unlocked the door to your room, ok.

Then you shut the door behind you and realized you'd accidentally gotten a room with two beds.

You remember the taste of bile at the back of your throat.

You blink and you're back where you were, alien children conversing at the counter in your coffee shop. You realize you've been holding the same empty mug and towel for a while.

When you set them down, your palm is indented from the fabric.

October 12, 2024, 2:00 PM

Shadow has warmed up to everything a lot more since he arrived last month.

You've seen him shoot back straight espresso like it was water, which drove Knuckles insane, and, for whatever reason, made you glow with pride.

He's slowly started asking for things directly: meals, things to do, what have you. You finally got to make that revenge guac for you both. It was great.

You had to try to not choke on it.

He's insanely excited for Halloween. It's refreshing to see him like this. He's usually a pretty doom-and-gloom type of guy, and there's a pain within him that you resonate with. But right now, he looks so happy, asking if you can decorate the cafe for the holiday. Of course, you do.

His memory is almost fully restored, too. You're happy about it, but it also instills an intense anxiety in you.

You aren't sure which situation it is that's making you feel like this.

Maybe both.

It'll be 4 months in a little under a week.

You don't think it's stopped hurting.

When you get a moment to be alone, it all comes rushing back at you, and suddenly you feel like you did when it first happened.

But the hurting isn't that bad all the time. Not anymore.

It settles in your chest when you're distracted by something, knocking on your ribs when you're reminded of it.

It's constant, like a bruise that just won't go away.

But it's manageable.

What is less manageable, however, is the voice.

Every day that passes, the voice gets louder, crawling further into your brain and making itself known.

Hell, it's even shown up in your dreams.

As annoying as it is, though, it makes you think about your grief beyond what you had been.

Whenever you have one of the dreams, you wake up and shower, and sit in the water and think.

Mostly, your brain has focused on his absence. The fact that he's… gone.

But, then you start to wonder.

Would this have happened if you'd told him? Would he be gone if he knew how you felt?

Would that have even changed anything?

You have to stop before you spiral too far. Asking questions is dangerous.

You convince yourself that it's just the shower water running down your cheeks, even if your eyes burn.

October 23, 2024, 1:02 AM

You wake up.

You don't immediately open your eyes, though, because if you stay in the darkness, you can pretend that everything is alright. You can pretend that nothing's changed.

You can pretend he's still here.

You open your eyes.

The room is not silent. Faraway thunder rumbles in the sky and Shadow lightly snores from where he sleeps.

It's four months now, and you've suddenly forgotten how to feel numb.

Your hypothesis about emotional suppression seems to be correct.

You sit up.

You stare at your hands.

You can't breathe.

At first, you think someone is trying to kill you. That's the obvious answer.

But then you feel the tear drop down to the tip of your nose.

And then you break.

You lose all sense of time as your vision is flooded. You hiccup between sobs and you know you've always been an ugly crier.

What makes it worse is when you feel a hesitant hand on your shoulder, and look over to see Shadow looking at you with so much concern and understanding.

You don't want to cry in front of him. You're meant to be strong for him, for this kid that you've grown closer to, for this kid that you want to take care of.

But when he reaches up to hug you, all you can do is fall apart on his shoulder. And you feel so bad, because no kid should ever have to be the one to comfort an adult, but the tears keep coming and you can't make them stop.

You don't know how long you sat there, weeping on him, when it seems the well has run dry.

You try to mutter an apology to him, but he gets up and walks away. You stare at nothing in front of you and curse yourself for making this child have to support you, but he comes back with a glass of water, averting his eyes nervously.

You think back to the first week he was here.

He'd had a nightmare and woke up screaming and crying. When you'd gone to comfort him, you brought him a glass of water.

You had awkwardly stuttered about how crying can be dehydrating in a sad attempt to make him feel better, social skills be damned, and it had worked.

That was the first time he'd really smiled at you.

And now he's doing the same for you.

He says something similar about water and dehydration and you can't entirely understand what he's saying, but you smile as best you can through the tears in your eyes and take the glass with a choked thank you.

He lights up at the affirmation, and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest as you realize that you are to Shadow as Tom is to Sonic.

You gently ruffle the top of Shadow's head, the corner of your mouth quirking up. He flusters at the action and tilts his head, almost like a cat, you think, sporting a ghost of a smirk.

You tell him you're alright now and to go back to bed, and you yourself fall asleep with the knowledge that you are this weird alien hedgehog’s weird quasi-father, and you don't mind it one bit.

October 31, 2024, 5:30 PM

Turns out Tom and Maddie made a costume for Shadow. Sonic had apparently told them about something Shadow said about it after one of his trips to the Mean Bean, and they'd decided to surprise him. Needless to say, he was ecstatic. Others may not have registered the level of happiness he was at, but you know Shadow.

You know your boy.

Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails somehow convinced Shadow to go trick-or-treating with them. You encouraged him, too. He seemed a bit nervous, and even sort of embarrassed, but he ultimately agreed, smiling as he waved goodbye to you.

This was the first time in a while that you've been really alone. The pain starts to catch up to you and for a moment, you feel incredibly empty. Your throat begins to tighten.

You take a deep breath as the grief curls up once more, resting for the moment. It makes you cold.

You make yourself a simple latte and draw a little jack-o'-lantern on the top. Your hands still shake, but it's not too much to deal with.

You doubt anyone else will come into the shop. You already planned to close early for Halloween, and the sign at the front tells as much to any prospective customers.

You turn to begin dealing with the back counter, cleaning the machines and putting things back to where they belong. You've grown fond of the routine.

Then you hear the door open, and turn around to see Shadow running into the shop. His eyes are bright, brighter than you've ever seen them.

He tells you that he remembers everything now. He says, excited—God, it makes you happy to see him excited—that his memory is back and he can tell you what happened to–

The door opens again.

You look up.

He's there.

He's alive.

You stand there for a moment, completely still, completely silent.

You almost scream.

You leap over the counter, running and tackling him in the tightest hug you've ever given anyone.

He smells horrible. Like smoke and sulfur and dirt and grime and he's alive and he's holding onto you just as strong as you are and the voice is cheering and exploding into fireworks in your brain and the pain squeezes your heart in its hands and he's alive.

You don't even notice when the tears begin to fall. You only notice his pulse, alive, his breath, alive, his arms around you, alive, alive, alive.

When you finally pull back after what feels like both an eternity and a millisecond, you get a look at his face, and you put it in your hands and holy shit he is alive.

He looks absolutely disheveled and it's possibly the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and then he smiles, wide, genuine, warm, so rare, so real, and then he leans forward and kisses you and you can't think anymore.

He tastes awful and you've never loved him more than you do now.

[ofdarklands]

[starbuck]

“…to me” is one of the most powerful disclaimers we have on here… is this character analysis accurate? debatable. but it’s real… to me.

[boomposhpow]

i think i’m funny

[iamthemaestro]

if there’s one thing about me it’s that while I do not really resonate with being a “man” I absolutely love like… boyishness. collective masculine terms. “boys” “lads” “gentlemen” that’s where it’s at. gender me like you’re an irritable 18th century sergeant addressing his men

[podcastwizard]

everyone thinks they're a poet these days and thank god for that

[spader7]

another ghoul to fall hopelessly in love with...

[inknose]

happy valentines day!! they're really like this.

[thoodleoo]

a 23rd knife has stabbed caesar

[undeaddrabble]

The Jax Show

[theeroticlover]

This, right now.... Need you, do you get it ?

[becca-e-barnes]

Humour me while I scratch a personal itch: Your dad's best friend showing you how your body should be appreciated 😵‍💫

"Come on sweetheart, I know he's just not doing it for you." It had never been a secret that neither Bucky nor your dad liked your new boyfriend but you never imagined this would be the angle that Bucky would be taking to convince you to end things.

"That's none of your business! I'm not talking about this with you!" You're so stunned, you can hardly even get the words out. It's nothing short of mortifying to be talking about your sex life with your dad's friend, never mind the fact you've silently been interested in him since your dad introduced you a couple of years ago.

"You haven't tried to convince me I'm wrong though! You need to stop dating these boys, they're no good for you. They're not what you need." He almost sounds like he pities you and that doesn't sit right with you at all.

"You have no idea what I need." You roll your eyes in derision, unable to believe he'd be this bold.

"Don't I? I bet I could guess. He doesn't kiss you right. He never even dreams of letting the tip of his tongue press against yours and then take it from there. While he's kissing you, he's probably pawing mindlessly at your breasts. He doesn't know how to take it slow and work you up the way you need. He has no idea that rubbing you over your panties won't do enough for you. I bet he's never taken the time to appreciate every inch of you. When's the last time he kissed from your ankle to your knee? How often does he stop to kiss your forehead? Has he ever enjoyed every soft slope and curve of your body? Not just the obvious ones, I mean all of them. The curve of your shoulder or the softness of your hips or the firmness of your calf muscle. He doesn't even try. He's doesn't put the effort in for you." He sounds more upset about this than you thought he would and for a couple of seconds, there's nothing at all in your head.

"Show me how you think he should treat me." There's no point taking the time to think about the implications. You want to know how it feels to have your body safely in the hands of someone who knows what to do with it and this is a better time than any.

His lips barely graze yours at first and it makes you crave more of him. Everything in you knows this has to be a bad idea but his lips are so inviting and his hands are gently holding your waist in a way that makes you want him worse than ever.

The tip of his tongue begins to inch forwards and tentatively, you allow yourself to do the same. Your tongue meets his and rather than feeling overwhelmingly off-putting, the gentle, wet pressure is tender and romantic and intimate. Thrill bubbles in your chest because if this is what kissing is supposed to feel like, you have no idea what else he can teach you that you've never experienced before.

You find you're the one increasing the pressure, looking for more. God, you want this. Excitement buzzes low in your tummy and before you know it, you hear a moan that you can hardly believe came from you.

His hands are roaming the expanse of your back over your clothes, never once straying towards your ass or your breasts. It's too early for that and he knows it's not what you need.

He's enjoying this just as much as you are. He's taking you apart, piece by piece. He knows he's only got as much control here as you hand over to him but he's not taking this at the faster pace you're used to, no matter how you try to dictate the pace.

"You're such. An angel." He kisses down the side of your neck, cradling the other side in his hand. His lips are plump and slick and the sensation leaves you quietly gasping. "You don't know how you deserve to be worshipped. You're stunning."

He presses you back, letting you hop up onto the kitchen counter, massaging your calf muscles with his fingertips. You never thought that would do anything for you but seeing him appreciate each inch of you; seeing how he finds ways to extract a pleasurable sensation you've never been treated to before is breath taking.

"We're not jumping ahead of ourselves, but just to prove my point..." His fingertips trail up your leg, under the skirt of your dress and he checks you're okay with it before pressing the pads of his fingers to your underwear.

The thin cotton is soaked through under his fingertips, arousal making you almost dizzy.

"Good girl, look at you enjoying yourself! Bet you haven't been this wet in a while, have you honey?" He presses his fingertips to your lips, letting you taste your own arousal and your mind races at the thought of sucking it off his length later, something you've never wanted to do for anyone before.

[shesnake]

Cillian Murphy in Oppenheimer (2023) dir. Christopher Nolan

[planet-wyh]

Rsl swan song thingy!

Ignore the hand. and the clothes I got tired

[the-adventures-of-dave]

funniest two posts to see back to back