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whore-4-drewstarkey · 1 year ago

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The Night We Met Pt. 2 - Dad!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Summary: when rafe finds out that his and Y/N son is slowly going down the same path he did, he decides to open up to their son about his past.

Warning: lots of angst (sorry), heavy drug use, drug overdose talk, alcohol consumption, physical violence, dark themes basically. (so sorry). lmk if i forgot any!! PLEASE DONT READ IF ANY OF THESE WARNINGS TRIGGER YOU!!!

A/N: i did a poll to see which fic you all wanted and this was the winner. i can’t remember how this idea popped in my head but it did. i really hope you all enjoy this one!! FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOMED! PLEASE BE KIND<33 ps remember to share and like!

W/C: 3.6k+ (holy fuck)

it had been seventeen years since Y/N and rafe had gotten married. the two of them had a son together, archie, who had just turned sixteen years-old. archie had definitely taken after his father looks. he was tall, with dirty blonde hair, and striking blue eyes that would catch anyone’s attention. he had also taken after his fathers athletic abilities, as he was the star quarterback for the kook academy on kildare island. but, unfortunately the worst way he took after his father, was the intense drug use that was slowly starting to make him an addict; just like his father, rafe cameron, was a mere twenty-one years-ago.

as archie had left for school one friday morning on figure eight, Y/N had entered his room to grab his dirty clothes to wash. as she’d grabbed some of his clothes, a small plastic bag had fallen from one of his khaki pants pockets, and onto the wooden floor of his bedroom next to Y/N feet. bending down, Y/N picked the small packet up to investigate it a little more, until realization hit, as tears began to brim her eyes. it was a packet of cocaine. the only thing she felt like she needed to do in that moment was call her husband who’d been in his office downtown at the cameron development. so she did. she immediately pulled out her phone and pressed rafes contact name, waiting for him to pick up as it rang through her ear.

“baby, what’s up? everything okay? you never call while i’m at work” rafe asked Y/N warily as he sat his falcon pen back down on his oak desk, ignoring the documents that needed his signature.

“i-i think y-you n-need t-t-to come home now” Y/N managed to stutter out, laundry basket long forgotten as she’d made her way to rafes home office, where there was the most privacy.

“what? why? baby, tell me what’s wrong” he insisted.

Y/N swallowed sharply before she began to stutter, and beat around the bush, not wanting to trigger him, “i-i found something i-in archie’s bed-bedroom, but i-i want to wa-warn you, i do-don’t want you tr-triggered hunny”

and in that instant, as soon as she said the world ‘trigger’, he knew she’d found not only drugs, but his old drug of choice; cocaine, in their sons bedroom. he let out a shaky breath of air, as he brought his left hand up to run through his shaggy curtain bangs he’d been growing out from his old buzzcut. “i’ll be home in ten, please don’t worry about me and my trigger, i’ll be fine hunny” he reassured his wife of seventeen-years. and with that he hung up immediately, leaving his office and telling his assistant it was family matters.

as soon as rafe put his porsche in park in the driveway, he ran into his and Y/N house which was located on figure eight, calling out Y/N name, “Y/N WHERE ARE YOU BABY? Y/N???!”

“keep it down rafael, i’m in your office you dumbass” she hushed her husband as she walked out of the french doors that lead to the said room. she grabbed his wrist and yanked him into his office, before she started to cry all over again.

rafe quickly wrapped Y/N into his arms, sending her hushed murmurs of comfort and love, easing her to calm down. she was so heartbroken her little boy was going down the same awful path his father once did. it was hard enough for her to have found rafe almost dead after his overdose twenty-one years ago. she had to go to a couple of years of therapy to recover from that incident. she couldn’t even bare the thought about losing her only child to the same demons that almost took rafe out years before. she clutched onto rafe’s forearm as he held her tight into his arms, trying to steady her shaky frame. he swiftly moved the two of them to his office chair located behind his desk, sitting down and bringing her into his lap where he continued to cradle her fragile head. he pecked her head repeatedly before speaking softly, “hey. hey, Y/N look at me hunny” as he held her cheeks to make her look at him. and in that moment his heart shattered. seeing the love of his life hurt tremendously broke him to his core. swiping some of her tears away with the pads of his thumbs he began to speak again, “we will figure this out love. we will get him the help he needs. i’ll do right by him since my father never could for me. he will be okay. i promise. even if i have to tell him about my addiction. got it sweetheart?” and with that, Y/N bit her bottom lip, and nodded her head to rafe’s reassurance.

“good, now, where is it? i promise i will be fine, you don’t have to worry about me. okay?” rafe asked Y/N as he lightly brushed her curtain bangs back behind her ear with the back of his hand, bringing his lips to hers for a delicate but loving kiss. she placed one of her shaky hands to his scruff covered cheeks, stroking his cheekbone softly, “promise you’ll be fine?”

“promise” he cooed as he grabbed her hand that had been stroking his cheekbone and placed a chaste kiss to the palm of it. she then used her other hand to grab the bag of white powder from her sweatshirt pocket, dropping it in rafe’s large, veiny hand.

“how are we going to approach him about it? you are the expert on this kinda stuff aren’t you?” Y/N attempted to tease rafe to lighten the mood. she’d always had a dark sense of humor, just like rafe.

smirking rafe responded,” hahaha very funny. i mean i am i guess? i know how not to approach him if that helps.”

“how so?”

“as long as we don’t do what ward would do, i think we will be fine baby” rafe sighed out at the mention of his fathers name. a cold-hearted man is what he was. was no father to rafe…. ever. hell, he didn’t even acknowledge him as his father these days, only called the man by his name.

“i guess you’re right” Y/N sighed as she stood back up, preparing herself for what was to come in the next few hours.

“we got this baby, we got this. yeah?” rafe once again tried to reassure the woman of his dreams as she nodded her head in response.

——————-

rafe and Y/N had taken a seat on the living room couch as they waited for their beloved son archie to arrive home from school. he’d football practice, but had received a text from rafe demanding him to come home and skip the practice, adding in that he had already talked to archie’s coach, excusing his absence. archie, being just like his father was, obligated to make his father happy, came home in a hurry.

when the front door opened frantically, followed by hurried steps and commotion, Y/N scooted closer to rafe for comfort. she didn’t know what was going to happen or how it would go down. rafe placed his large, veiny hand on her thigh, giving it a light squeeze for reassurance that everything would be okay in the end.

“we’re in here archie!” rafe had hollered from the living room couch as he and Y/N both waited anxiously for archie to arrive.

“h-hey, what’s up? what was so important that i had to miss practice?” archie questioned as rafe motioned for him to take a seat on the couch opposite of the one Y/N and him were seated on.

“umm archie, your mom went to your room this morning to do your laundry and found something a little concerning. i wanna state that we aren’t blaming you and we aren’t criticizing you whatsoever bud, we love you and want the best for you” rafe spoke warily to his and Y/N young son who sat opposite of them, with worried eyes. archie knew immediately what Y/N found when his father said laundry. he had forgotten to put his drug of choice in his secret spot in his dresser.

rafe continued before archie could even speak a word, “ archie, bud, i get it. i know the high is great and all. i know what you’re going through a-“ rafe had been cut off mid sentence by a triggered archie who had begun to yell at his father.

“really? how in the hell would you, of all people understand how good it makes me feel when i get a little bit of a kick?”

and with that outburst and those words coming from his precious archie, came rafe’s sadness and anxiousness. he had to tell him about his addiction and more specifically; he had to tell him about his overdose that dreadful night Y/N had found him in his bedroom. frustratedly, he pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly as he tried to find the words to tell archie about his horrible past. he tried to sniffle back some tears, but gave up as he had remembered the only reason why he used to hold back his emotions; his father. so, he let a few tears fall down his stubbled cheeks as Y/N had an arm around his shoulders rubbing his back while the other rubbed his inner thigh to comfort him, all while whispering sweet nothings only rafe and her could hear.

“you got this” she whispered as he raised his head again to make eye contact with archie.

“archie…” he started as he composed himself for what he was about to say. “when i was your age, i used to go out and party a lot. when i first started doing cocaine i was only fifteen years-old. nobody knew in my family. hell, it’s not like anyone would have even cared if they had known anyways” rafe shook his head as he took a deep breath to continue.

“and by the time i was seventeen, all i did was party, drink, snort cocaine and get into a lot of physical altercations. i was heavily addicted to the drug. and some of those altercations i had were so bad that some people were even hospitalized. i was not a good person and i sure as hell was a danger to myself and those who were around me.” he swallowed the lump in the back of his throat as he was about to tell archie about a time when he had hurt topper so bad he had to go to the hospital for many reasons. he still couldn’t recall what had happened that night. and yet for some odd reason, topper was still his best friend to this day minus Y/N, she would be his bestest friend til death do them part.

“once, i got so high that when your uncle topper tried to get me to ease up on the lines and shots and get me to go home, i literally blacked out and beat the living shit out of him. he was hospitalized for two days. i broke two of his ribs, his nose, many lacerations from a beer bottle and a concussion. cocaine, let alone any drug for that matter, is not the answer to anyone’s problems. i would know” he pleaded with archie as rafe’s face scrunched up in hurt as he remembered the aftermath of that fight like it was yesterday.

“b-but, buddy, what’s worse is the night i overdosed on cocaine when i was seventeen years-old, twenty-one years ago. if it weren’t for your mom coming over to find your aunt sarah to do some project for school, i wouldn’t be here right now. it was your fucking mother who found me being delirious and aggressive. i almost hit her because i was so out of my mind. but then before i could do anything, i passed out and went out cold, all while my heart almost stopped beating” rafe croaked out as Y/N continued to rub rafe’s back as this had always been a tough subject to talk about after she had told him she was the one who’d found him that night. he continued again once he cleared his throat, “that night i had done a few extra lines and what i didn’t know at the time was that they were laced with small amounts of fentanyl and that’s why my heart rate was so low. i had to have THREE doses of NAR-CAN archie. and then i went into a 2-day coma” rafe started to cry again, not from the remembrance of that night but to the idea that that could be his boy one day.

“i-i didn’t know that dad” archie stuttered out as he looked down to his lap.

rafe continued, “my dad was so adamant about keeping the fentanyl part private that he paid people off so it wouldn’t ruin his deals. and he scrutinized me for doing drugs. he never asked me why. and sure as hell never really cared about me. i promised myself i would do right by you since my father never could do right by me. so that’s why we’re talking and not judging you for your choices.”

“why did you do it?” archie asked his father the question very few people had ever asked him throughout these 23 years since he’d first been introduced to that drug.

rafe, who’d been taken aback responded with a shake of the head confused, “wait what?”

“why did you start using?”

“um, my mom had died when i was ten and from that point on i wasn’t okay mentally. i didn’t have the love a child needs from their mother, instead i had a greedy, self centered, physically and emotionally abusive, selfish man for a father. he only ever seemed to care more about both of your aunts, money and my step mom, than he did me. he would hardly even look my way. he never truly loved me. so when i got to the kook academy and went to my first party, i was offered a line and took it. it made me feel what i thought was happy but looking back at it i just felt numb. but it was just a way for me to forget about my own shit and past and my emotions. using cocaine allowed me to forget everything that had happened. but with it came hurting others i loved and cared about. which is more important to me than myself. i’d do anything to go back and not get addicted. i hated hurting the ones i loved most. and it took years to build my relationships back up all because of my addiction. addiction is a demon. i’m lucky i got clean. you’re lucky you have us, supportive parents who will be there for you every step of the way” rafe spoke with passion as he looked deep into his boys blue eyes that had resembled his own.

“dad, i’m scared. how do i even get clean? how’d you get clean?”

“baby, archie, i don’t wanna find you like i found your father. that night was the scariest night of my life. i had ptsd from that night and had to go to therapy for a few years due to it. i don’t know if i can do that again, especially if it’s you hunny” Y/N cooed as she leaned forward to caress her boy’s face, pushing back his curtain bangs that resembled his fathers when he was his age.

“arch, it’s okay to be scared. hell, i was so scared when i woke up in the hospital and the doctor told my dad and i that i had overdosed on cocaine and fentanyl. when i heard that i wanted to get clean, but i was so scared. and my father had always told me anytime i showed emotion of any kind, to man up. to not show emotion. that’s what lead me to the drugs in the first place. embrace your emotions bud. even if it means you’re scared. it’s healthier that way.” rafe attempted to explain how he felt about expressing one’s emotions.

prepared to answer the second half of archie’s question rafe took an even breath in and out before he spoke, “i got clean probably the worst and most painful way you can do it. i went cold turkey. which takes a lot of determination. after seeing your aunts so scared, i wanted oh-so badly to get clean. but i was hard on the drug. i had gone to another party one night my senior year of high school, and had just quit two days before, when i met your mom. well i thought that was the first time i’d met her because in reality i had no recollection of the night of my overdose. had no idea your mom was the one who’d saved my life. anywho, i basically felt drawn to her and just being around her and talking to her kept me grounded and in line with what i needed to do. and that was get clean. i couldn’t go to a rehab because then my fathers business partners would’ve heard and his deals would’ve fallen through. so i did it on my own. but archie buddy, if your addiction is as bad as mine was by the time i was sixteen, then i want you to know your mom and i want to put you in rehab. it’s the healthiest and best way to get clean”

“i-i never knew that dad. i-i’m sorry. and mom used to go to parties?” archie frowned, as he tried to lighten the mood just slightly, earning a small chuckle from both of his parents.

“and that’s why i’m telling you bud. and yeah your mom was one hell of a beer pong partner” rafe smirked as he side-eyed his wife Y/N. “but arch, bud, i need to know, how often do you use? i promise i won’t judge you. okay? i’ve been through this same boat years ago. i’m here for you. we’re here for you” rafe cocked an eyebrow up as he questioned his only son.

“every other day sometimes every day. it just depends. i only started doing it after my injury last football season. yah know, when i broke my wrist? i was just so upset and frustrated that i couldn’t play for the rest of the season and then before i knew it, i was addicted i guess” archie huffed out in anger, just like his father used to do all those years ago. just thinking about how easily he got addicted to the drug pissed him off beyond means. the boy just wanted to get clean.

“fuck” rafe sighed as he bent his head down in his large hands. how had he not even noticed the change in archie? why hadn’t he even thought about how that injury could’ve affected him mentally? was it because he’d been working so much? was he just a horrible father like his own dad was? tears began to brim his eyes once again.

“dad, don’t feel bad about this please. it’s not your fault. i already know that you’re thinking you’ve being working too much and that’s why you haven’t noticed. that’s not true. i’ve just been hiding it really well” archie, spoke to his father as tears brimmed his own eyes now.

“i’m trying not to archie. it’s just hard. are you open to going to rehab or not?” rafe questioned as he lifted his head, swallowed his pride, and pushed back his tears to stay strong for archie and Y/N during these hard times. “i just want to express to you buddy, how lucky you are. this is a great opportunity. you’re lucky to have parents who truly care and love you because i never had that after my mom passed. and we both want the best for you” he continued on.

“of course i’ll go” archie quivered out as he looked at both of his parents. he felt so guilty to have put them through such a mess. especially his mother, Y/N, as she’d been through almost losing rafe all those years ago. he couldn’t even imagine the damage that must’ve done to her mentally when she found him. and to think that that could be him next that she found broke his heart to a thousand pieces.

“i-im sorry” the sixteen year-old boy croaked out to his two loving parents as he lunged forward to hug them both.

“we love you too baby, and we’re gonna get you the help you need” Y/N cooed to her little boy as she pecked his head.

“we’ll get you the help i never got, bud, okay? you’re gonna get through this, okay? got it?” rafe asked his son as he held archie’s face in his hands, making eye contact.

“yeah. im a cameron, of course i got this” he chuckled. “us cameron’s are stubborn and can make it through anything. right?” he questioned his father as he looked up at him.

“damn right. i love you archie, and i’m proud of you for taking such a big step. you’re gonna get clean and you’re gonna stay clean” he patted his son’s cheek as the three soaked in the last of their presence’s before archie left for rehab.

rafe sighed with a smile. he knew archie would get better…. after all he is a cameron for christ sake. ‘it’s hard to get rid of them’ he thought to himself as archie left that night for rehab. he smiled to himself because he knew in the end it would all work out. it always did for a cameron.

@slut4drudy @runningfrom2am @maybankslover

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warping-realities · 3 months ago

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Rich People Problems

This was my tribute to the works of the incredible @callmecallmecrazy (seriously, what are you doing that you haven't read the legend yet?) and the no less amazing dumb-and-jocked, if you're reading this bro know that we all miss you immensely!

Repost with new images and minimal changes to the story.

.....

Cris sighed for what felt like an eternity before stepping into the luxurious and refined ballroom of the Country Club. This was going to be a painful experience. An engagement party, out of the blue. His mother, Carol, had been widowed a few years back and since then had thrown herself into her work as a lawyer. She was a staunch defender of human rights, fighting hard in court for the less fortunate. Cris greatly admired his mom's work and never judged her for her absences; what she did changed lives, and from an early age, he understood the importance of her work. Even so, because of that, he had always been a lonely kid—absent father, distant mother, and a social awkwardness that kept him from making lasting friendships. Books were his greatest companions, ranging from children's classics to true masterpieces, and it was through reading complex political works that he decided to become a journalist to fight against the ills and injustices of the world, just like his mom.

So, you can imagine Cris's enormous surprise when he found out that his mother had decided to marry the notorious multimillionaire Archibald Sutterland III, a guy with a rep for being a hard-ass boss and totally averse to workers' rights. “The Third,” muttered Cris with disdain. Rich people and their pretentious names, he thought, rolling his eyes as he stepped into the room.

He walked through the place, crawling with pretentious people, all dressed to the nines, casting judgmental looks his way. But he didn’t let it get to him; this was, after all, his mom’s engagement, and he’d wear whatever the hell he wanted. Not that he had time to find “appropriate” clothes for the occasion. Having been snatched by a couple of giant security guards from his college dorm earlier that day, bundled into a private jet, and taken to a stately mansion, where a pompous outfit awaited him on the bed of a room bigger than his former home, he decided to ignore the getup despite the protests of his “guardians,” who, finally defeated, dumped him in a freaking limousine and dropped him off in a place that felt totally alien and hostile to him.

“How does crap like this even happen?” he muttered to himself as he searched for his mother, determined to confront her about this madness. Speaking of madness… he finally spotted her, standing by the bar, wearing a dress he could never have imagined, a goofy smile plastered on her face. Just one more piece of info for the list of absurdities of the day.

“Mom? What the hell is going on?” he asked irritably.

“Cristhian, my dear, I'm glad you made it in time! But what are you wearing? Archibald made it clear to the staff that you should be handled properly!”

“Handled? What the hell, Mom! I'm not some puppy to be 'led' around. And what the fuck is going on anyway? What ridiculous idea of marriage is this?”

“Just be quiet, please, Cristhian. Don't embarrass me in front of the society.”

“And since when do you care about ‘society?’” he said, emphasizing the word with obvious disdain. Forcing a smile in hopes no one noticed the altercation, his mother pulled him aside as she spoke.

“Calm down, let’s talk…”

….

Watching the scene from afar was Archibald Sutterland III, accompanied by his longtime partner and friend, Forrest Gordon-Lenox IV.

“You have to admit, the boy’s got some flair, Archie.” Forrest was one of the few allowed to use that nickname since they’d known each other since childhood, but only when they were alone.

“I should’ve seen it coming that the boy inherited some of his mother’s fire, but if I’ve molded her into an impeccable example of a woman, believe me, I’ll get the brat out of the way. In fact, I think this might be the perfect opportunity to test my own heir,” he said as he saw a handsome young man approaching.

“Good evening, Father. Good evening, Mr. Gordon-Lenox. Looks like Carol is having some issues with her son,” said the handsome muscular blond young man with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Good evening, Chadwick. Your father and I were just talking about your future brother’s peculiar ways.”

“Chadwick, the time has come. I could do it myself, but soon you’ll graduate, and you'll need to step up. I don’t care much for society gossip, but something like this could have negative repercussions on business. So I need you to take care of the kid.”

“Yes, Father, with the greatest pleasure,” replied the young man with a sneaky smile.

….

“Mom, it feels like I’ve walked into a bad adaptation of Stepford Wives! This makes no sense. How can you drop everything, years of career, to marry an old man and become a housewife?”

“If I were you, I’d be very careful with words spoken in such an environment, my friend,” said a sassy voice. Turning around, startled, Cris came face to face with a handsome young man in a light blue suit, matching his eyes, which were currently assessing him with a predatory look.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Chadwick Sutterland.”

“So what…?”

“So what, friend, if we’re going to be brothers, we might as well agree on some things.”

“Brothers???”

“Chadwick is Archibald’s son, Cristhian, so after the wedding, he’ll be your brother.”

“How wonderful,” replied Cris, exasperated.

“Indeed, I think we’re going to get along just fine, Cristhian.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it!”

“Cristhian! Enough of that!” Carol whispered, anguished.

“Let me handle this, Carol. Your son and I just got off on the wrong foot, but let’s fix this together. Cristhian, can’t you at least try this for your mom?” Chadwick concluded in an accusatory tone. Seeing the anguish on the face of the most important woman in his life, Cris relented.

“Okay, since it looks like this craziness is going to happen anyway… but I’m not wearing that pompous crap.” He responded, disdainfully eyeing his future “brother’s” attire, not caring if it offended him.

“Apparently, someone always has to be on top. I think I’ll call you Topper, brother, and since we’re among bros, you can call me Chad.”

“You can call me whatever you want; this ‘brotherly’ relationship won’t last long. So come on, I need a drink.”

“Excellent, follow me, please. Carol, if you’ll excuse us!” Chadwick finished, dragging Cris with him across the hall.

….

“Drink this, bro,” said Chad, handing Cris a glass of bourbon. He had pulled him into a locker room near the Club’s gym. The pompous and polite demeanor faded, replaced by a relaxed attitude and carefree vocabulary, which made Cris’s initial dislike for the guy diminish considerably.

“What you need to understand, now that you’re joining our circle, is that appearances are everything—the way you talk, the way you carry yourself, the way you dress… so this behavior won't help you Topper!” He continued, using that stupid nickname, apparently a bond between brothers or something, and no matter how much Cris protested, Chadwick was Chad, and Cristhian was Topper. After some failed attempts, Cris finally stopped objecting; after all, he intended to have as little contact as possible with Chad after that night.

“I don’t give a crap about that, Chad. My mom can commit this madness if that’s what she wants, which I still have a hard time believing. But once tonight’s circus is over, I’m going back to college without looking back.”

“I understand your indignation; I was also blindsided by my dad’s decision. My mom passed away less than a year ago. So understand, you’re not the only one upset here, bro. But my father is used to getting what he wants, and he wants your mother. He met her a few months back in court, oddly enough. She argued her case against one of our companies with such ferocity that it warmed something in the old man’s icy heart. Since then, he’s been courting her relentlessly until she accepted the proposal last week. It might’ve seemed sudden, but as I told you, my dad gets what he wants, when he wants,” concluded the boy, bitterness creeping into his voice. This earned him a few more points with Cristhian. Maybe not everyone there was that awful. But still full of indignation he continued to complain.

“I don’t understand why my mom didn’t tell me anything; it’s not like her.”

“Bro, you know how women are; no one can predict their crap.”

To avoid an unwanted discussion with someone he was trying to create some kind of sympathy with, Cris let the sexist comment slide.

“Still, I don’t understand why I need to wear this!” he said, looking at a suit identical to his future “brother’s.”

“Appearances, brother. Coming here poorly dressed not only tarnishes you, but also your mom, my dad, and our family name. Come on, try it; I bet you’ll feel a lot better.”

With one last sigh, Cris began to undress. As he prepared to put on the pompous outfit he suddenly found himself very close to a grinning Chad, holding a bright red gem in his hand.

“Not yet, Topper; first, we need to make some changes.”

The stone began to emit an intense glow. Afraid of what he was seeing, Cristhian tried to escape. But suddenly, his legs went rigid and immobile, as if glued to the ground.

“What the hell is going on? What are you doing?”

“Silence, now is your time to listen. You will only speak when I say so.” Cris felt his lips tighten, not painfully, but still totally unable to form a sentence; his vocal cords incapacitated from producing any sound.

“I like you, Topper, really, you’ve got some guts. I think we could still be real brothers. But the way things are, it won't work. Do you know why? Because of what you are. Or what the people who matter think you are. And do you know what they think, Topper? I’m sure many in that hall looked at you and thought: a nobody. But what they haven’t thought of is what you really are—an opportunity.” Chad continued, grinning with a disturbing glint in his eyes, reflecting the gem strange glow.

“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a bench. And Cris felt compelled to sit down, the movement returning to his legs. But when he tried to turn and run, he ended up sitting right where Chad instructed him.

“Such a good boy,” sneered Chad, the red gem held in his hand.

“You know what that is, Topper? That’s why your fierce mother became a trophy wife-to-be. And that’s also the key to the future—mine and yours, bro. So I guess I owe this version of you an explanation.

“This stone has been in my family for generations, passed down from father to son, ensuring our lineage, our money, and our name continue to live on. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the reason old Dorrance Sutterland, the founder of our line, got his passage on the Mayflower. But I confess, for some generations, the Sutterland men have used it for more… mundane purposes. When you have everything money can buy, it’s hard to find something that really needs the use of this little beauty.”

“I didn’t lie to you when I said my dad met your mom in court a few months ago; that’s the absolute truth. And I wasn’t lying when I said he tried to woo her either; he did… but was rebuffed, which only ignited the fury inside him even more. And the more the fire inside my father grew, the more the desire to dominate and extinguish his mother’s flame consumed him.”

“You see, this stone has power over reality itself; there’s nothing it can’t do, with few limitations. The curious thing is that my dad doesn’t know this; my grandfather never told him all its potential. To him, it’s only capable of influencing people’s minds, shaping their wills, and even redefining their personalities. But he never suspected it could do so much more.”

“It’s all because my dad has always been a huge jerk. With his stupid rules, his obsession with control, his insufferable rigidity—and the biggest problem of all, his boredom. My grandfather would’ve loved to use the stone on him, but that wasn’t possible; that’s one of the limitations of the stone’s power—it doesn’t work on men of our lineage. We’re the only ones who can use it, but never on ourselves, although there are some interesting ways to at least partially circumvent these rules. Furthermore, each Sutterland man can use it only once in his lifetime.”

“So, my grandfather was forced to live with his boring son, who, despite having a great knack for finances, always showed a total inability to enjoy the pleasures of our way of life. So, as a small form of revenge, he withheld essential info from my father but told me everything, as I was a much better heir to our legacy.”

“My father used his chance with the stone to turn your mother into his trophy wife, Topper. After all the speeches, all the scolding, all the talk of responsibility, he used the stone to win over a woman, just a few months after my mother died! How undignified is that? And when he refused to hand me the stone, he even had the audacity to repeat the usual litany.”

“The same litany that isolated me my whole life, that prevented me from having a true friendship, from living the life I’m entitled to. For my dad, everything I wanted was frivolous; everything was a waste. And everyone looked at me with pity, pity for the poor rich boy. Of course, my peers accepted me and never had the heart to do anything to me; I’m a Sutherland, and that name means a lot. But not even that name can create a real bond. Maybe if my dad had put me in a boarding school, things would’ve been different; maybe some real friendship could’ve been established. But no, I needed to be under his constant surveillance.”

“While my buddies are enjoying their holidays in Ibiza or the Alps, I’m stuck sitting next to him in a dusty office! Even my frat brothers, as much as they talk about the unbreakable bond that unites us, don’t really see me as one of the guys; they respect my name and my position, but it’s clear I’m among them because I’m a legacy. Can you imagine how it feels to see all your ‘brothers’ getting ready for Spring Break, knowing you won’t be able to make it? My dad denied me not only my grandfather’s name but also the opportunity to live my life the way it should be lived by our people—with respect for traditions, sure, but above all, with fun. Yes, with fun! What’s the point of having mountains of money if you can’t enjoy yourself? That’s all I want, Topper—fun!

“You don’t have the slightest idea how much I wanted to get my hands on the stone, but the old man took precautions to keep it away from me, as if I didn’t have my own means. And today, thanks to this outrageous engagement dinner, I finally managed to get my hands on it. And thanks to you, Topper, I’m finally going to find a way to enjoy my life the way I deserve!”

So, put a metaphorical smile on that face because you’ll be enjoying everything with me, bro!” he sighed, concluding his long villainous monologue with a maniacal grin.

Christian, motionless, lips sealed, listened to all that madness, unable to believe it. That was impossible. But so was his current situation. And the story, as absurd as it was, provided an explanation for his mother’s altered behavior. Still, that was all impossible, wasn’t it?

“My grandfather informed my father of specific rules and ways of speaking and ordering the stone, instilling a fear of what might happen if those safeguards were not used, in addition to the obvious omission of its full power. My grandfather was diligent in his revenge, Topper. Thanks to him, my dad lost his chance to achieve something truly extraordinary, but I won’t lose mine. The stone doesn’t need specific and detailed orders; those things only limit its functioning. It’s intimately connected to the deepest desires of its bearer, so just ask, and it will provide. Goodbye, Cristhian; welcome, Topper, bro!” he concluded.

The stone began to emit an intense red glow in great waves, which, in Cristhian’s vision, seemed to distort everything around him, with Chad’s hand becoming a blur.

“That shit was real,” was his last coherent thought before being enveloped by the red light.

…..

Memories came in waves—totally alien to his identity but intrusive, forcing their way in. Two blonde toddlers, so alike you’d think they were twins, in an elegant living room, arguing animatedly about whose father owned the bigger yacht, eliciting giggles from two pretty blonde women, their mothers.

“Yes, he and Chad knew each other from the cradle. No, no, what the hell was that?”

“Their mothers were best friends, college roommates, and in the same sorority, and their fathers had common business interests, so it was natural that the friendship extended to their kids.”

“No, his father had been a college professor, not a businessman, and his mother had never been in a sorority. And for God’s sake, what kind of spoiled brat talks like that?”

Seemingly the same kind of kid who spends their afternoons on the tennis courts at the Country Club while their parents excitedly discuss business. Occasionally pausing to flash an approving smile in his direction, in Cris’s… Topper’s case. Or a stern look in Chad’s.

“Uncle Archibald was always a pain in the ass, but spending time with Chad and Dad was awesome.” It was the thought that popped into Cris’s head while that memory solidified.

Thinking about his father brought up an old and painful memory of Cris, which was quickly overridden by the overwhelming power of the stone. The memory of a thin, brown-haired boy, on a cold winter afternoon, feeling lost and alone was replaced by that of a blonde boy, physically active but with the same feelings of sadness marking his face. But that gradually faded when he felt his best friend’s hand on his shoulder, a warm feeling spreading through his body, knowing he had someone with him.

Although that feeling was interrupted by a flash of irritation when he saw his “Uncle” Archibald whisper something in his mother’s ear. His father had just died, and there was ambitious old Archie harassing his widow, no doubt imagining a way to cash in.

Cris struggled with the conflicting and confused feelings inside him; he knew that none of that was real—not the anger at a man he didn’t know, not that great friendship, not that warmth. But at the same time, it would’ve been nice to have a friend by his side when his father passed away… it had been so nice…

After his father’s death, Cris became responsible, at least in name, for the family’s legacy. His mother, contrary to what one might think, was a true lioness; she took over her late husband’s business with great interest, expanding the family fortune and ensuring every wish of the heir was granted. But at the expense of the son’s loneliness. Christopher Lauder Hawthorne IV, Prince Topper, fourth of his name, heir to a fortune, surrounded by everything he could want... and alone. The exception was his friend Chadwick Sutherland, but even if the two wanted to spend all their time together, that wouldn’t be possible. But his mom made it happen! He didn’t know what kind of deal she made with Archibald, but sometime after his dad died, Christopher, along with Chadwick, was sent to a boarding school.

What would have been torment for other boys was liberating for both of them. Away from his father’s stern gaze, Chadwick enjoyed life for the first time, while Christopher found in his friend a true brother. There was nothing Topper wouldn’t do for him. The two formed a beautiful pair—handsome and charming—soon surrounded by a growing group of friends. Topper, with his outgoing ways and the certainties in life that only the very rich or the very foolish possess, and Chad, with a more cunning way of thinking, but still eager to have as much fun as possible. Leaders among their own.

But anyone who thought those boys were stupid was dead wrong; Chadwick could never let his grades slip, under penalty of losing the ironic freedom the school had granted him. As for Topper, well… he had Chad to help him with the complex stuff and a mom willing to overlook her precious son’s academic incompetence. Even more so when it became clear that the boy had a natural talent for sports when they joined the school’s lacrosse team, which soon morphed into a passion for all sports they could participate in. Topper’s tactical ability on the field and court demonstrated something his poor academic record failed to do: he was incredibly intelligent and capable when he wanted to be. The truth is, most of the time he just didn’t care. The exception was sports, which became a true obsession, which Chad shared to a slightly lesser extent.

As a result, the two muscular men who finished school barely resembled the two boys they once were. Topper cherished the photograph taken with his friend after their team winned the intramurals.

No, no, no! I’ve always been a good student; I have no idea what the rules of lacrosse are. I’ve never been to boarding school, and I’m certainly not some pretentious mountain of muscle who thinks he has the world at his feet," Cris thought.

"But I am," Topper replied, making Cris freak out, not knowing where the strange voice inside his head came from, while new memories flowed.

With the end of school and before college, which both boys would attend together, Archibald decided he wanted Chad by his side to instruct him in the truths of life or some such nonsense. As if Topper would let his brother be stuck in an office all summer. Negative. The two of them would have fun, even if he had to kidnap Chad to do so. Which wasn’t necessary, because once again, Carol Lauder Hawthorne used her magnificent powers of persuasion to ensure her beloved son had his best friend with him during those vacations, where they explored the Old Continent together, taking yacht trips through exclusive islands across the Mediterranean, a brief pause to ski in the Swiss Alps, and the cherry on top: the craziest sexual experiences in Eastern Europe.

“Ah man, the flexibility of that girl in Prague,” Topper reminisced fondly about that particular night.

“I’ve never been to Prague, or on a yacht, or in the Mediterranean, and I’d certainly break my legs if I tried skiing,” Cris argued.

“Nonsense, I’m a natural athlete,” Topper replied.

“But I’m not you,” Cris shot back, finally losing the ability to perceive the strangeness of the situation.

“Of course you are, you idiot. Who else would you be if not me? I’m such a dumbass!” Topper laughed inside Cris’s head, echoing:

“A dumbass, he he he.”

And suddenly, he also burst out laughing, their laughter mingling as if they were one.

After an unforgettable summer, college time finally arrived. Continuing the established partnership, the boys rented a luxurious apartment near the campus. Archibald had the nerve to try to send Chad to a shared dorm, as if Topper would allow it. He’d never agree to live in a dorm; he deserved the best, and the best was having Chad by his side. This time, Carol’s intervention wasn’t necessary; Archibald simply wasn’t informed of the arrangement, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t bother him. Of course, such an arrangement would be temporary. Both boys were legacies and would soon be inducted into their parents’ old fraternity.

Chad had no option but to choose business-oriented subjects to study, knowing ahead of time that his major would be in business. Topper briefly considered studying sports sciences due to his love of sports, but it wasn’t like he needed it, so why bother? He then decided to enroll in the same subjects as his friend without worrying much about it. After all, college was much more than listening to half a dozen stilted old-timers; it was about making contacts, having new experiences, and above all, having fun!

“But I’m a great student, and business? I’m going to be a writer, aren’t I?”

“Ha, I couldn’t even write the grocery list if I didn’t have someone to do the list and the shopping for me… and great student? I’m always great, even if the grades say otherwise. If I tried a little harder, I know they’d be a lot better, but it doesn’t make any difference in my life.”

“No, education is important!”

“Of course it is; that’s why I studied at the best schools and went to college. But those things only get you so far. When you want to go further, your name and your contacts do more for you than any major.”

Speaking of contacts, Chad and Topper were perfect fraternity material. The two made it through Hell Week unscathed, quickly rising within the organization.

Now, nearing the end of their junior year, the two held positions on the chapter’s board, strong competitors to assume the presidency.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Topper knew that one day he’d have to take responsibility for the family business, but he had no interest in taking on any real responsibility before it was necessary, and he wouldn’t let his best bro do it. Archibald would certainly put pressure on his son, having been president in his day, even if the sour old man never understood anything about what fraternal life really was. No, it was Topper’s duty to make sure his friend had some kind of fun. Helping organize the parties, managing the house, and guiding the newcomers, showing them the path to follow, was more than enough. Man, how he loved to see the terrified looks on the pledges when the blindfolds were taken off, and it was his face they saw first, not knowing they were looking at the guy who would make them men—the right kind of men. They were a family, after all, and he took great pride in being the cool big brother role model.

“It would’ve been nice to have so many friends, to feel part of something.”

“Yeah, man, I love this.”

However, not everything had been perfect; unexpectedly, the angel of death struck the pair of friends again. Sybil, Chad’s mother, died of a sudden illness. And suddenly, Topper found himself in the opposite position from so many years ago. Chad was a grown man and not a boy, yet Topper saw his long-ago image reflected in his friend’s sad eyes on the day of the funeral.

The funeral forced Chad to present himself in a way that his father found appropriate, making him say goodbye to the long hair and stubble he had developed in his time away from him. Topper, as a good friend, supported him, even though he didn't care in the slightest about the grumpy Archie's opinion. Knowing the power of a helping hand, he stayed by Chad’s side the entire time. This was a pain that could only be eased with time, so Topper decided to numb it the best way he knew how. That night, he took Chad to a bar with the intention of drinking him into a stupor.

“Thanks, bro. I don’t know what I’d do without you by my side… Oh god, I’m sounding like a crybaby.”

“Chad, your mom just passed away; today you have the right to look like a crybaby, dude. Which doesn’t justify you being one for all the years we’ve known each other, bro,” Topper replied with a smile.

“Asshole…” replied Chad with a sad smile.

“Speaking of assholes, how’s Uncle Archie doing?”

“Being himself, if you know what I mean? You’d think his wife’s death would soften the old man, but no, he didn’t even give me a hug…”

“I’d hug you, brother, if it put a real smile on your face. But I think I have a better solution.” Topper pointed to a pair of beautiful girls standing on the other side of the bar.

“Oh man, I don’t know…”

“They’re hot, bro. Look, your mom would want you to get on with your life, and right now you need a distraction, soooo… blond or brunette?”

“Both!” Chad replied with his first real smile in a while.

That was a wild night. To avoid unwanted attention from the parents, they took the two women to one of Topper’s apartments in the city, and there, washed down with a lot of alcohol and weed, the four of them ended up in bed in a foursome.

“That was freaking awesome.” Said Topper.

“Yeah, dude, freaking awesome.” Agreed Cris.

Chad spent the next few months in a mood that ranged from depressed to euphoric, usually with a little help from Topper, but gradually improving. Until a new blow hit the duo. On a sunny afternoon less than a week ago, during a college break, as the boys rode through the huge Hawthorne property, they were called by Carol for a chat.

“Boys, an announcement is coming soon, but both Archibald and I would like you to know in advance. This summer, he and I are getting married.”

“What the hell is this, Mom? Are you kidding?”

“Language, Christopher. And no, I’m not kidding. I’d like you to think of it as a… business arrangement—a very beneficial arrangement for both parties.”

“A beneficial arrangement? Mom, we have more than enough money.”

“Christopher, my dear, I raised you better than that; there’s no such thing as enough money.”

“And Aunt Sybil? Your best friend’s body has barely cooled down, and you’re ready to swoop in on her husband. Sorry, bro!” Topper concluded when he remembered who he was sitting next to. But the friend didn’t respond, preferring to direct his attention toward Carol.

“How long? How long have you two been planning this… arrangement, Carol?” The “aunt” was unceremoniously dismissed.

“Archibald and I have been discussing this for some time, and it’s going to be very profitable.”

“Profitable and convenient, isn’t it? You’re still a young woman—not even forty yet. And I must say you hid it wonderfully well, but now looking closely, I can’t help but notice the signs. When can Topper and I expect our brother or sister to be born?”

“Chadwick! How can you say…”

“Drop the act; only something like this would make sense!”

“Okay, I really am pregnant; I never imagined this could happen. Boys, you must understand, nothing happened between me and Archibald while Sybil was alive. Chad, his parents were my biggest source of support after Topper’s dad passed away. Sybil was truly my best friend, and when she left, I felt… empty. Imagine how you would feel without each other? Archibald may seem cold, but he also felt her loss, and in our grief, we ended up supporting each other. One thing led to another, and one night after a few glasses of wine, we ended up…”

“Fucking,” interrupted Topper!

“Christopher, that’s enough; I’m your mother, and I deserve respect.”

“Respect? How can you talk about respect after telling us this?”

“Topper, it’s okay; she’s right; there’s nothing more to be done. Getting rid of the baby isn’t an option; the scandal if this story leaks… I imagine the wedding will be soon, to allay suspicions, although it’ll probably still raise some eyebrows…”

“Yes, it’s the best arrangement we could come up with. Christopher, my dear, I’m really sorry, but it’s for the best. Besides, you always wanted a brother.”

“I already have a brother,” he replied, looking towards his friend.

“Yes, Christopher, and now you will indeed be brothers for real. Think about it. And you, Chad, Topper told me all about how you feel about Archibald, and I’m no idiot despite what anyone might think; I see the way he treats you. I can be a very powerful ally; never underestimate my powers of persuasion, especially when I’m carrying Archibald’s son. You may not believe it, but all his behavior comes from the hopes and expectations he has. It will be very good for you to have someone to share that weight with.”

“Just think about it, brother. We will be real brothers, on paper and in life, and with one more of us on the way. Doesn’t look so bad. Even more so if that way you can get your dad off your back,” Topper said, letting himself be carried away by his mother’s notorious power of persuasion without realizing it.

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad, not really, brother,” Chad concluded, smiling back at his friend.

And so the two ended up at that event at the Country Club, where they had spent most of their lives, commemorating the future union of their parents, which would formalize their status as brothers. Topper arrived late, and accompanied by his friend, went to the locker room to put on appropriate clothes before heading to the ballroom. And now the two of them were there, face to face. Topper looking down at his friend’s distorted hand, the glowing red stone emanating constant waves.

“Quite a… quite a story… but… it’s not real… none of it is… real.” Cris reappeared, gathering what was left of his energy.

“Dude, of course, it’s real. If you want it, it’s real; I want it, and I’m you, so it’s real!”

“No… I’m not you… you’re an… invention, you’re nothing but… a rich asshole… who thinks he owns the world… who thinks… has… the world at his feet… your life is all about money… and… parties and…”

“And fun, and not worrying about tomorrow, and friends, real friends, and a mother who does whatever I want, and a brother—a real brother who was always there for me… how could that be something bad?”

“No… no… no… it wasn’t real… no… it couldn’t… be real…” Still, new memories rushed toward him, like a giant wave of red, flooding every inch of his consciousness until there was no empty space left.

Chad studied the face of the young man with glazed eyes and an empty expression sitting in front of him.

His hand burned with heat as he gripped the stone, and he couldn't help but think that maybe it was too much, that maybe he had messed up beautifully.

“It has to work, it has to work…” he muttered. Then the stone emitted its most wave, momentarily blinding him. Upon regaining his sight, he found himself in front of a completely different man. Sitting naked before him was an example of male perfection. A face that looked like it was carved from marble, golden hair in beautiful curls, with the broad, defined musculature of someone who could easily be a fitness model. For a moment terror dominated him, as it seemed that Christopher tried to resist the process with greater intensity, however it did not last more than an instant as another waves come and soon the gargantuan figure that replaced Cristian began to feel and test his gigantic muscles almost automatically with a distant and unfocused look, gradually being replaced by one of extreme confidence and arrogance. If Marvel ever decided to reboot Captain America, the man in front of him wouldn’t be a bad choice—except for the fact that he’d never put himself in that position… unless he thought he’d have fun with it.

And how did Chad know that? He knew this because he suddenly remembered a whole new life, which made his previous life look pale and gray—all thanks to the man in front of him, Topper, his best friend, his brother! And with a smile on his face, he woke him up to reality:

“Hey bro, you okay?”

“What? Chad, bro, sorry I kind of zoned out; damn jet lag. But it was worth it; you should’ve gone with me; Brazil is everything we were told.”

“Not everyone can afford to fly all the way to Rio and hook up with a supermodel whenever they want, bro.”

“True, but we can.”

“Speak, for you, brother.”

“I speak for both of us. If there's one good thing to come out of this whole situation, it's that my mom will get Archie off your back, and we'll finally be able to enjoy life the right way,” Topper concluded while opening a closet and pulling out some clothes. Putting on pristine white boxer briefs, more immaculate than a virgin's soul, but which ironically would make many virgins fall into sin just by looking at the man wearing them. Before putting the other garments he flexed both arms and admired himself in the mirror. “I’m so swole, man.”

“Something had to make up for the lack of brains, brother!”

“You only say that because you're jealous of me, tiny boy.”

"I wouldn't call anything about me tiny.”

“True, but nothing compares to my size, little brother!”

“Some of us prefer classic beauty, Topper.”

“And some of us decided to be real men, Chad.”

That was Topper's mocking response as he walked past his “brother" and gave him a playful pat in the groin.

“Dude, leave the gems alone!”

"Stop being a whiner, I wouldn't do anything to hurt my future nephews," Topper said as he admired himself... again. “Dude, I’m fucking hot!”

“I didn't know jt lag caused brain damage, bro. I thought we'd already been through this whole discussion about your ridiculous handsomeness. Be careful; you don’t have much brain in that head of yours to waste.”

"Asshole, your envy doesn't faze me, try as you might," he replied, finally putting on his suit, the same shade of blue as Chad's.

“So how are the lovebirds doing? I imagine the news about him having another boy to torment has given Archie a break from his usual boredom.”

“Incredibly, yes. Your mother really has a hold on my father; he pestered me a lot less than usual. Although I don't think he's very happy about your delay."

“I couldn't miss the chance to see Archie's eyes pop, especially since he knows he has no power over me. Soon, he won't have any power over you, and I promise you, he won't have any power over that baby either. When he’s born, you and I together are going to show the little one how to live. Now come here, brother; you may not be as handsome as I am, but we still make a great pair.”

….

The two returned to the hall together, always attracting attention from everyone around, but they were used to being the center of attention, and frankly, they deserved it!

They found their parents sitting together at a table, and to both their surprise, Archibald looked more relaxed than they had ever seen him, while Carol turned to both of them with a Cheshire smile.

“Hey boys, we have news. But since Christopher took up so much time, maybe we should save it for another moment…”

“Carol, boys will be boys, so let them be.” Archibald intervened, making the two boys look at each other in disbelief. His expression seemed softer and less predatory than usual.

“Anyway, what Carol was trying to say is we've decided to have the wedding in early summer in Malta, and the good news is you're going a few weeks in advance to get everything ready. We count on you—don’t hold back on effort or money,” Archibald concluded, not seeing the sly smile that Carol gave behind his back, which made the boys' jaws drop—metaphorically, of course, since neither of them would commit such an indignity in public.

….

And so it was that in early July, Chadwick Sutterland found himself enjoying the best that life had to offer on an exclusive Mediterranean island alongside his lifelong best friend, Christopher Hawthorne IV. Thinking about a red gem and gray fading memories of a reality that, for the world, had never existed. He had done really well, in his own opinion. His father was dominated, so much so that he didn't even bother with his son's behaviour in the last months. He had a fierce ally ahead of his family business, even more so now that she was expecting a Sutherland boy, who, when the moment came, he would deliver that stone to be used in a time of need. An unforeseen but very favorable outcome, the stone indeed acted in the best interest of the wielder if its power was allowed to act freely. And the greatest proof of that was his best friend, the brother he had gained, who was at his side talking to him at that very moment.

“Hey bro, what’s with the serious face? You should be enjoying your first real vacation paid for with your dad's money, dumbass,” Topper said with a smile.

“Fine, you asshole,” Chad replied, assuring himself the stone was safe and looking at his brother. “Let’s have some fun!

#male tf #reality change #mind change #corruption #jockification #musclegrowth #mental transformation

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flightyalrighty · 5 months ago

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I think you saying that you mainly ship sonadow just made my day along with the fact you go "hell yeah" about it 😭😭

I have some questions

1) Why do you like the ship? I like it because of the whole opposites attract thing

2) I like to think of Sonic and Shadow having that sort of "rivals to lovers" trope and opposite attract as said before, which idk if it applies to you because everyone ships things differently so

If you were to do any comic media about them, how would you do it?

3) Do you think about doing more art about them in the future?

(◍•ᴗ•◍)

I'm sorry for the questions about the ship I just like that fact that my one of my favorite sonic comic artists ships my personal favorite ship, along with surgamy lmao

Since I can't do images anonymously, here's a bug playing saxophone

��🎷🐛

I'd say it's less that they're opposites for me and more like they're two sides of the same coin. Also I guess because I grew up with Archie Sonic and there's a lot there. Like, it's a WHOLE different dynamic than game!Sonadow (like for instance they were way more like allies than rivals in that comic) and that's what stuck with me -- But I like that they can rely on each other in a way that feels different than friendship. And they can travel together and stuff. Sonic has been all over the world and Shadow might still be trying to discover this planet Maria loved so much. He can be shown the beauty and joy of life on Earth Mobius Unnamed Planet. Does that make any sense at all? I'm sleepy. Also! I like the idea of Shadow just like. Trying to integrate himself within Sonic's friends and family (Tails). He's the only one who'd have this problem btw. Everyone else is chill (except Knuckles maybe).

I was privately writing a fanfic that i shared with my friends that was like, "Aaahhh it's (I think it was 6 total?) years into the future, but ONE year into the future Sonic and Shadow had a jewish wedding bc i hc Shadow as jewish (bc i hc the robotnik family as jewish) and Eggman has been straight up sent to prison by G.U.N. and things are great for a while and there's peace but THEN with Eggman out of the way, G.U.N. does a full-scale invasion on the whole world to "bring order" to a world they find irredeemably chaotic USING Eggman who is now forced to work under them to make weapons of war. Shadow immediately leaves G.U.N. out of disgust and as a cruel "punishment" for this, Sonic gets captured by G.U.N. and turned into their own living weapon. For five years Shadow and Tails, who now consider each other their only family (I won't get into what happened with Amy, Knuckles, Rouge and Omega rn) are trying to survive under this horrible regime and rebelling where they can BUT Shadow is completely heartbroken and sabotages bigger and more dangerous G.U.N. operations in order to lure Sonic out and accepting less help from allies as the years continue on and he's still unable to find and save blue hedgehog husband. He returns to Tails with more and more injuries that Tails has to fix up and there's a lot of yelling. So I guess I like angsty sonadow? But I don't know if I'd turn that fanfic into a comic. But if I made a sonadow comic, that would be the one.

Someone would need to chop off my hands to stop me from making more sonadow art (eventually)

#Anonymous #asks #sonadow

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mewkwota · 21 days ago

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For the character ask meme:

Marvel vs Capom Megaman!

Technically that would just be Classic Mega Man, so we'll go with him!

Send Me a Character

And I will tell you my:

First impression I know who Mega Man was and that there were different ones (I just wasn't sure how or if they were necessarily connected at first, so I drew him and Hub interchangeably but confusedly). I think Rock is cute, but his design was too simple for my tastes.

Something about Smash's additional details clicked so well to me. (MM11 is still not quite there for some reason, so I don't use it.)

Impression now I've always had an interest in robot characters, and after learning more about him, I was somehow able to explore so much with that concept and just Mega Man's character in general. Unsurprisingly, working with him reminded me a lot of Astro Boy and the situations he faces with the innocent mindset of a child and the body of a robot, just not as heavy (I won't talk about the Archie Comics, I stopped following after a while for reasons).

The thing about working with child characters is that they aren't always going to act like older characters, in their words and their emotional responses. On top of that, drawing them is particular too-- their faces, the things they do with their hands, etc.

It leaves a lot to think about, but the thoughts are very welcomed. Kinda like a "put yourself in their shoes" sorta exercise.

So besides the fact that I grew to really love the Mega Man series, with its fun characters and robot designs, I really appreciate the "pureness" of Rock's character. I know he's also a hero with a strong sense of justice, but in the end he's also just a child. A robot child.

Even when compared to the other Mega Mans, Rock is the simplest, purest form of the non-human. His "humanness", while present, differs from X and his complexities despite them both being totally mechanical. Hence why I chose that word "pure".

Though Rock may appear simple, it turns out it's with much meaning. At least to me it does. I have no idea if these words make sense.

Favorite moment This is a Smash thing, but watching the lights of Mega Man's eyes during his fighter reveal is always gonna be so cool.

Idea for a story I made two (ancient) comics that touch on the uncomfortable dynamic between Rock and Dark Pit. I never really clarified it, because I'm still not sure, but Dark Pit's harsh attitude toward Rock were meant to cover for something else.

It's been so long, I don't know if I'll ever return to it. But there's definitely a lot of loose ends I've still left flying around. (Y'know... Like the one with Beck.)

Unpopular opinion I don't really like Rock's MM7/MM8-type proportions. He looks way too tall and way too lanky.

Favorite relationship *Coughs loudly in Captain N*

Favorite headcanon The little depictions that remind you Rock is originally (and still is) a helper robot are very sweet to see.

#wow looking back at my comics from that time makes me feel nostalgic #but also darn I used to write so much (I feel so bad that I haven't done things that nice of a size since)#like I want to but ahhh my energy is stolen by my work...#for real though I really did put all my energy into those megaman comics #well at least I have a lot of them on paper than none at all :)#Asks #Ask Mew #rubyrosevalentine #megaman #rockman #I don't really think there's any way for me to interestingly talk about rock solely in the topic of mvc #so yeah we'll talk about him in general (it's for the character after all)

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edwardallenpoe · 1 month ago

Text

My first ever Sherlock & Co. Fic, it's ofc about Sherlock's DID. One of Sherlock's headmates fronts after being dormant for a number of years and meets John. Very fluffy, kind of angsty but more comfort less hurt. Mentions ofc of dormancy and allusions to past trauma, plus mentions of panic attacks.

I wrote this mostly inspired by some of my own dormant headmates coming out of dormancy, it's a weird and wonderful and relieving experience for us.

This fic is now on ao3 (link)

Fic under the cut (no editing, I wrote this in a flash, do not judge lol):

When he opened my eyes, he knew immediately some time has passed since the last time he did.

He looked around the room, trying to discern and deduce where he was- definitely an apartment, so not a dorm or his parents place, somewhere he resides, mainly. He stood on wobbly feet, noticing the tightness of his trousers on his waist- they've gained weight, how odd- and made his way outside the bedroom, finding the bathroom to be right next to his bedroom, seeing in the mirror his- no, Sherlock's- reflection.

He touches his cheek, sees new scars, and old, familiar ones faded. He runs his hands through his hair, clean and scented and soft. It's been a considerable amount of time.

“Sherlock? It's around that time, Mariana wanted to talk about some potential clients, remember?” He heard a voice, and he felt a small sort of panic rise in him.

“Er, j-just a minute!” He lets out, and wonders at how full his voice sounds.

“uh… alright, then… you alright, mate?” The voice just inside the doorframe now, the reflection of a man with shaggy blond hair and a scruffy beard leaning on the frame, his blue eyes piercing through him. The silence in his head, a void only a minute ago, helpfully supplies him with some help as he hears John play over.

“Yes, I'm fine, John.” He says, and the man's eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, his eyes wide.

“You called me John, and it wasn't even a tense emotionally charged moment of stress and trauma, now I definitely know somethings wrong. What is it, Sherlock?” He asked, and he damned his parts.

“I…” then, fear rises. He had no idea if this John person knew, knew of the secret that they had held since Trevor, new of the myriad of thoughts and voices this body shares.

John's eyes softened. “Hey, it's okay, whatever it is. You can trust me.”

He wishes desperately for someone, anyone to confirm or deny this, and he gets the overwhelming trust his host feels for this man.

“I… I'm Scotty.” He says. “I haven't… not since…”

Understanding blooms on John's face, and he smiles. “It's really nice to meet you, Scotty. I'm John Watson. Sherlock has told me about you.”

Scotty crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at John's shoes. “What has he told you?”

“He told me you left, a long time ago. Dormancy, he said?”

Scotty nodded. “It's been a very long time. I don't know what…” he intended to add time, year, anything, but it was a given. He didn't really know anything.

“The year's 2024, it's July. We're in London, 221b Baker Street. I'm your roommate, and Sherlock's best friend. We have Mariana, and Archie downstairs.” John explains softly. “D'you want something to eat?”

Scotty nods.

John smiles. “I've only just started getting Sherlock to eat, it's nice to have some cooperation, c'mon.”

John leads him out of the bathroom and to a small kitchen area, in complete disarray but generally nicer than most kitchens Scotty has seen. It looks like the people that use it care, not only for the stationary and cutlery but for their living space, their home. It makes something warm inside of Scotty bubble.

“This is… nice.” He says to John, and the man snorts.

“Glad you think so, I think I about given up on keeping it tidy, keeping track of Sherlock is a near impossible task.” John motions for the and, and Scotty sits, placing his hands on the surface. “How does, um… eggs? Eggs sound?” John asked as he rummaged through their fridge. Scotty smiled at John, tried not to laugh at the effort the man was putting into this.

“That sounds good, John.” he looked around more, peering into the living room a bit. It was also messy, papers and books and mugs and wires everywhere, hoodies and dog toys and dvd's as well, and Scotty furrowed his brow in fascination. “How long have we been living together, John?” He asked.

“Oh, uh,” he blew out some air as he thought, clicking his tongue. “Around, I want to say, nine months now? Moved in around the end of october, I think?”

“Wow…” He mutters. All the trinkets, all. The pieces, the papers, the studies Sherlock loves and cares for so much, integrated so deeply into John's own life. To be honest with himself, he wasn't sure where Sherlock's things started and John's ended. “You're… really important to us.”

He hears John sputter a little. “What? I mean, not that I didn't know, just- y'know. Odd to hear it.”

Scotty shook his head. “Even with Trevor, or all of Sherlock's other friends, things weren't like… this. We really care for you, and you care for us.”

John clears throat. “I'mean, 'course I do, Scotty. Your system has helped me in a lot of ways, ways I'm not sure even I understand.”

Scotty looked to John, fascinated. “You've met the others?”

“Fleetingly,” John clarified. “I believe his name was… Arthur? He helps Sherlock go to bed, sometimes, when he stays up for longer than four days. And Shelley, she's fronted a couple times to help with my panic attacks.”

Scotty's heart warms. To know that his parts were still around, doing good when he was away, it was reassuring to know.

“I'm glad, then.” Scotty says. “It's good to know we've met you, John Watson. Things weren't always… like this. This nice. Things were…” he closes his eyes as he tries to not think of that night, that man, once so high, now brought down by his own hubris, and the rushing torrent of your fault, your fault, your fault- he felt that night. “Hard. It's good.”

John comes to sit across from Scotty, smiling. “I know. It was the same for me. I'm glad I met you, Scotty.”

John makes the eggs, and Scotty eats about two before he's finished, and John goes downstairs to explain that Sherlock was having a bad day, and Scotty stayed upstairs, petting Archie, who slobbered all over his lap, though he found he couldn't mind.

We made it, he thought, over and over. We made it.

By the time John had come back upstairs, The body of Sherlock's system was curled up on the couch, nuzzling Archie to find comfort. “Scotty?” He asked, and got a negative hum in response.

“Sherlock?” He tried, and he got a nod. “Hey, how are you doing?”

Sherlock lifted his head, his face red and tear streaked. “I'm… I'm okay. I'm good. Thank you, John.”

John's heart melts, and he comes to sit next to Sherlock, rubbing a hand between his shoulder blades. “Of course, Sherlock, of course. It was really the least I could do.”

Sherlock sniffled. “Frédéric had said that there was a chance Scotty wasn't ever coming back. That he wouldn't until he felt complete and utter safety.”

Realization slowly crept onto John. “I… you feel safe. Here, with us?”

Sherlock nodded. “After what happened… I couldn't blame him. But I'm just-” he turned away from the dog and instead found comfort in John's embrace, and John immediately wrapped his arms around him. “Thank you.”

John squeezed, rubbing his back. “Of course, Sherlock, of course.”

Scotty popped up a couple times over the next few days, but his fronting activity dwindled. John had almost worried he had gone dormant again, but Sherlock seemed happy, whole, and good, and he found that wherever Scotty lay in that great big brain of theirs, he would do what it took to make him feel safe.

#sherlock and co #sherlock & co #john watson #sherlock holmes #did system #did osdd #plural #plurality #plural things #system #plural fiction #endo safe #anti endo dni #fanfiction

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duhragonball · 9 months ago

Text

Akira Toriyama (1955-2024)

I wouldn't say I'm feeling better today, but I'm feeling less bad than yesterday. So let's see if I can put some words together.

In case anyone still hasn't heard, Dragon Ball creator Akira Toriyama passed away on March 1, 2024. This news was made public on March 7 or 8. I woke up early on Friday morning and found out while I was checking Twitter. I had a long, busy day at work, and I kept getting on my phone to scroll through fan reactions and tributes.

I think that, more than anything, is what's gotten me so worked up about his death. My Twitter timeline and my tumblr dashboard were just chock full of touching message and images about how Akira Toriyama's work has changed their lives. I wanted to write my own tribute, but I'm not sure what else I can say that hasn't already been expressed by Archie Comics, professional wrestling trio The New Day, and the Republic of El Salvador.

There's this immense, global community of fans, and it's easy to lose sight of just how big it is. It's easy to get bogged down in the infighting and petty squabbles. I saw one tweet responding to the criticism of Dragon Ball not being like this "entry level" franchise compared to other, more high brow anime and manga. It's popular with so many people, that critics will assume it's designed to appeal to the lowest-common-denominator. But the opposite is true! Dragon Ball is accessible, which is how so many people from so many different places and walks of life can get into it. The guy telling the story was such a master storyteller that he could grab an audience's attention and make it look easy. So easy that the haters would start to think that it was a trick, and he must be overrated.

Let me talk about this panel for a minute.

Last night I started going through the original manga, looking for panels to screencap. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but I thought maybe a selection of panels that really stood out for me might be worth posting. I'll probably still do that one of these days, but I got to this one, where Gohan tells Chi-Chi about Goku's death, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

This was a powerful scene in the anime, of course, but in the comic it's even more profound. It's just one panel, no dialogue, because the reader already knows what's happening here. We know Gohan is telling his mother that Goku died in the Cell Games, and that he refuses to be wished back, because he thinks his presence on Earth will attract new enemies. It was hard enough to hear when Goku said it to Gohan and the others, and now Gohan has to relay that message to Goku's wife. All she can do is lie prostate on the floor and weep.

And look at the composition. She's surrounded by all that negative space. Gohan's there for her, but she still feels so alone, surrounded by her husband's absence. Pots of flour for food he'll never eat. An empty chair he might have sat in. Their son, who will have to grow up without him.

I saw this, as though for the first time, and it was so gut-wrenching that I had to post it by itself. I felt like it summed up my feelings better than any words could. We're all Chi-Chi in this panel, reacting to Akira Toriyama's death. And we're all Gohan too, each of us consoling one another with our own thoughts and tributes.

So what did Akira Toriyama mean to us all? Lots of people have answered this in a lot of different ways. Obviously his art, storytelling and cultural impact speak for themselves. I've seen people compare him to other luminaries like Jack Kirby and Osamu Tezuka. I'll try to add my own two cents with this:

I wrote a post about "Dragon Ball Daima" back when it was first announced, and I led off with this image of a note from Akira Toriyama. I guess this was from some big fancy presentation about Daima at a convention. I forget which one. In particular, I was skeptical that the Daima rumors were even true, and if they were, the whole idea seemed half-baked to me. Turning Goku into a kid had been done before, and it wasn't exactly successful the first time.

But this note from Toriyama was very reassuring to me. More than the trailer clips and character designs, this was what got me interested in the show. That's because he took the time to not only hype up the show, but also to explain what's going on behind the premise. He took the time to tell everyone that he's working on this show, and what "Daima" means, and why all the characters get turned into kids. It's "due to a conspiracy", and the good guys will have to "fix things". In short, he established a plot, conflict, and resolution to the story. He didn't just slap this together to sell new merch. I'm sure that was part of the motivation to make Daima, but there's more to it than that.

I think that's the loss I feel with Toriyama's passing. It's not that there won't be new Dragon Ball stories in the future. I'm sure others will continue telling their own versions long after I'm gone. I'm not that worried about the fate of Daima. I'm sure they'll figure something out, whether it's delayed, rewritten, or canceled. But we'll never see another message from Toriyama to promote a new project, and that's what I'll miss. From here on, his credit will just be an acknowledgement of his past contributions.

There's this great credibility with Akira Toriyama's name. Fans will argue about how involved he was in a project as a way of establishing how good or bad it was. Dragon Ball GT has his name on the credits, and he provided some designs and artwork early on, and for some fans that proves the series has his endorsement. For others, the sole problem with the show is that he wasn't directly writing the script. There's similar debates over Dragon Ball Super, where he was involved, but only writing those mysterious "notes". So if a fan doesn't like something in DBS, who do they blame? Did Toriyama lose his touch, or did his co-creators fumble the ball? Dragon Ball Evolution basically ignored all of Toriyama's advice and bombed, while Battle of Gods, Resurrection F, Broly, and Super Hero all put Toriyama's writing credits up at the very beginning, and each film made plenty of money. I read his comments on the Daima confirmation, and immediately thought "Okay, this should be pretty good. Akira Toriyama knows what's up."

That's gone now. I mean, there's still a lot of talent out there, but we'll never again have the little gas mask-wearing robot telling us that this story will be good because he worked on making it good. I don't think I really appreciated how much I trusted that guy until now. I still can't believe he's really gone.

I'll probably have more to say about this in the coming days, but I'll stop here for now. Thanks for letting me ramble a bit on this.

#dragon ball #akira toriyama

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riality-check · 1 year ago

Text

more daisy jones-adjacent things. this time, they're finally starting to hate each other a little less.

parts 1, 2, and 3, for your reading pleasure. less drugs this time around, but way more talk about steve's ptsd. part 5. part 6. part 7.

ao3

Steve has never co-written anything before. All of his songs are his, from start to finish. Every note, every chord, every syllable is his invention, and he takes them all very seriously.

That's not to say that he doesn't accept help. He wouldn't be himself if he wasn't constantly bouncing ideas off of Robin and Dustin and Lucas, and he always has other people look it over and offer suggestions.

But the initial creation? That's all him. Steve likes that kind of control.

Writing with a band is very different. Eddie declares it, the song Steve pissed him off enough into writing, done after they've got lyrics and a lead guitar part.

"They'll write the rest," he says, like it's that simple.

Steve can't imagine letting go that much. In all honesty, he's scared shitless. He's never been good at being nice. Charming, yes. Nice, no. And he doesn't know how he'll be nice if the drum, bass, and rhythm guitar parts suck.

It's his song. Well, his and Eddie's, which is weird to think about, but still.

Steve has never co-written anything before.

And, to make matters worse, he fell asleep last night.

He knew it was coming. He's never made it past seventy-two hours, no matter how hard he tries or how high he gets. He knew it was coming, and he prepped as best as he could.

That didn't stop him from sleeping in three hour bursts, at max. Torn between the nightmares and the exhaustion and the crash, he freaked out, passed out, and repeated the cycle until he had to get up and go to the studio.

At least this time, last night, he was back in the Byers house. Scary as shit, with the initial confusion never fading, but it's the best of the nightmares he gets. Between the dogs and the torture, Steve's brain has plenty of worse things to torment him with.

Maybe he should be grateful, but he's never been good at dealing with what he's given.

This morning, he doesn't need to take anything. He's tired, but not that tired, and he's trying to give himself breaks when he can.

He doesn't want to die. He just wants to stay awake.

He has a coffee, though. That's mostly for the taste. His tolerance is shot to hell, so it's not like caffeine makes a real difference.

Steve walks into the studio, coffee in hand, and sees the band setting up and tuning their instruments. Jeff gives him a little wave, Gareth nods absently as he tightens his snare, and Archie positively beams.

"Steve, you're a saint," he says, a little mischief in his eyes. "Different chords, finally. I could kiss you."

Steve laughs and promptly cuts himself off when he sees Eddie staring at him.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asks once the silence has stretched on for too long.

"Why are you here?" Eddie asks bluntly.

Steve, notably, doesn't flinch back. He doesn't snap. He doesn't do anything that he would regret later.

He just says, steadily, "I can go if you don't want me."

He stands there, and he swallows back his hurt. He thought Eddie was finally warming up to him. He took Eddie's fighting words as an improvement from being ignored. And, as usual, Steve thought wrong.

"Hang on a sec," Jeff says. He sets his guitar down and stands between Steve and Eddie. "I said I wanted Steve on backing vocals for this."

"Is Steve not on backing vocals?" Gareth asks from the other side of the room.

"Far as I know, he is," Archie says with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie turns to look at Jeff instead. Steve watches their intense staring match and thinks about just walking out.

Before he can take the first step, Eddie says, "Fine."

"Fine what?" Steve can't help but ask.

"Stay."

Steve nods, but he turns to Jeff. "Are you sure? It's fine if-"

"I'm sure," Jeff says. "I think you wrote this song more for your register than mine."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Jeff says. "I changed everything I can't hit, but I just want a little more support, you know?"

Steve looks around the little studio space, around at all the cables and amps and mics and instruments, and he counts. Then counts again.

"There's only four mics," he says.

Jeff picks his guitar back up and gives it a little strum. "Share with Eddie."

"What?" Eddie says, looking like he would rather walk out than do that.

"Nothing against you, Steve," Jeff explains, ignoring Eddie. "I'm just a big personal space guy. Can't focus otherwise."

Steve looks over at Eddie, still sitting, still scowling.

"Fine," he says, because he'll be professional, even if Eddie won't.

"You guys are fucking killing me," Chrissy says, and Argyle, the audio engineer next to her, nods in agreement. "Can we get this show on the road?"

Gareth gives them a little salute, one that Chrissy rolls her eyes at. "We all ready?"

"As we'll ever be," the rest of the band choruses.

Steve shrugs. "Yeah."

"You warm up?" Eddie asks, walking toward his mic.

Steve follows. "Never do."

Eddie rolls his eyes, but then Chrissy gives them the all-clear, Gareth counts them off, and they start.

And something switches.

Steve knew this would be higher energy. Different genre, different sound, whatever. But there's something fucking electric about playing with a band instead of being by himself in an iso booth, drilling vocals until he has a take he's happy with.

Recording with a band brings a different sort of energy. It creates a feedback loop, getting them higher, playing faster, sounding better.

Steve tells himself to back off. He's not the star of this show. He's been invited, and a quarter of the people in this room don't want him here.

But filling in the gaps has always come easy to him, and he gives the backing vocals his all.

And somewhere between the guitar solo and the end of the song, Eddie smiles at him for the first time.

It's quick, but it's blinding. Steve didn't think Eddie could smile until he does. It's quick as a flash and wide and feral and a little mean, but it's there, and it's directed at him.

But just like that, the first take is over. It was messy and imperfect, and as soon as it ends, Eddie is back to scowling at him.

But it's not as harsh. And that's how Steve knows that he wasn't imagining that little bit of something.

"Holy shit," Archie says, as soon as they're done. "This is gonna be a good song."

"It's gonna be a great song," Jeff says.

"I want more from Steve," Gareth adds, and the rest of the guys agree.

Even Eddie, however begrudgingly.

"Alright, boys," Chrissy says. "You've got the fun out of your systems. Let's focus and make some music."

Steve looks over at Eddie, who nods, however slightly. And he thinks, because he has never been able to kill hope a day in his life, that they could make a good team if Eddie could stop hating his guts.

#ria writes #dja au #eddie munson #steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #corroded coffin #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #st #st ficlet #rockstar eddie munson #tw drugs #tw substance abuse #tw ptsd

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thankskenpenders · 2 months ago

Text

Sonic x ...DC Comics?!

youtube

We have our reveal of what our new Sonic comic crossover will be, and it's... not what I expected! We're getting a five-issue comic series mashing up Sonic with the DC Comics universe written by Ian Flynn, plus a slew of merch to go with it.

To be honest, I don't know how to feel about this? I don't feel the hype.

Okay, for one, cards on the table: I have more attachment to Marvel's cast of characters than DC's. Sue me. But it's not like I don't also like DC's heroes! I grew up watching the Batman movies and the Justice League cartoons and Adam West's Batman and whatnot. I loved Teen Titans so much as a kid that I was Robin one year for Halloween. DC's cool! People have been comparing Sonic to the Flash for years! So... why does this collab make me feel nothing?

Well, for one, it might be that I would prefer a series like this to be about Sonic and friends meeting the Justice League, as opposed to them being the Justice League. To me, personally, that just seems a little more interesting. Seeing how those characters play off of each other. People have been asking "who would win in a race, Sonic or the Flash?" for years, so that was kinda the thing I was latching onto as the impetus for this crossover. And yes, in the interview they tease the possibility of the actual characters meeting, but they're marketing it primarily via these mashup characters with Sonic and co. cosplaying as the Justice League, so I have to assume that's the main focus of the story.

But I'm also just sitting here like... why DC? Why is this the highest priority crossover to do with Sonic? It seems so arbitrary. Just mashing two random popular franchises together. It doesn't feel like something that resonates so heavily with Sonic that we just NEED this crossover to exist. The DC universe isn't something that has much of a thematic connection with Sonic. Like, you look at the TMNT x Naruto crossover, and THAT feels inspired. That's something you never would've thought would happen, but the second it's announced it seems so obvious, and the sick cover art sells the idea that it's gonna be something fun. (Hell, speaking of TMNT, that feels like a crossover that would've made way more sense to me. No, the single panel of the Archie comics they appeared in doesn't count.)

When the Sonic X DC thing is announced with a series of stock vectors of the Sonic cast cosplaying as the Justice League and the news that there will be a ton of merch for this, well. It just makes it seem like this is first and foremost a collab designed to generate new Funko Pops.

I don't know. I'm sure that whatever the actual story looks like, Ian will do his damnedest to make the comic fun. It'll probably be pretty decent. He's the perfect writer for this assignment. It's just not the crossover I would've requested. Maybe I'm just being a hater here. I know a lot of people are excited, with speculation about what other Sonic characters could take the roles of DC characters. Maybe showing something from the actual comic would've been a better sell. But, well, that's how I feel about it based on the announcement!

#tkp post

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collinrobinsonsglasses · 10 months ago

Note

I have two words for you: jealous Izzy

Maybe reader is simply very close to someone on the ship and Izzy thinks they are dating, or reader's ex shows up and Izzy (since his only other time he was in love, that we know of, it was the unrequired disaster with Ed) figures reader will leave him and the crew for this twat and he keeps being a grumpy ass

These are just vague ideas, honestly there is so little Izzy/reader that I am happy with whatever I can get

⁽ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᶦᶠ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᶦˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵉˡˡ ʷʳᶦᵗᵗᵉⁿ, ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃ ⁿᵃᵗᶦᵛᵉ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏᵉʳ⁾

This request was written super well, and I loved the idea. <3

Izzy Hands X Reader (GN)

Jealousy, Jealousy.

Masterlist

Your gaze lingered on the shoreline, soaking in the familiar sights, as The Revenge sailed closer to the place you once called home. It had been years since you last set foot on the shore where you grew up. Though you no longer had family there, the nostalgia stirred excitement within you. As you mentally compiled a list of your favorite places to share with the crew during shore leave, a flicker of movement caught your eye. Across the deck, Izzy’s gaze found yours, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. With a nervous smile, you returned his gaze. There was an unexplainable anticipation to reveal the place you once called home to Izzy, a desire for him to truly understand you, even though nothing romantic had ever happened between you.

The longing to be closer to Izzy was a secret you had only shared one drunken night with Olu, Jim, and Archie. After a few too many swigs of rum, you let your desire slip, expecting ridicule or disbelief. Jim’s immediate reaction was to dismiss the idea as pure idiocy, while Archie, always one to revel in chaos, egged you on, perhaps sensing the potential for drama. Yet, it was Olu who offered the most genuine support, his caring nature shining through in that moment, as it always did. All three of your friends showed their support in distinct ways, each with your best interests at heart.

You made your way towards Izzy, who stood at the edge of the ship, his gaze fixed on the tiny town ahead. His grip on the boat’s railing was steady, his expression unreadable as always. As you approached him and settled beside him, you couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts occupied his mind. With an awkward smile, you greeted him, resting your arms against the rail, trying to summon the courage to start a conversation.

“Hey, Izzy,” you began, lightly tapping the wood beneath your fingers. “The crew’s planning to hit a bar tonight. You should come with us.”

“The whole crew?” You observed as Izzy’s expression tightened, you assumed he was envisioning the lively chaos that usually came with spending an evening with Stede Bonnet’s crew.

“I think even Stede and Ed are coming,” you added, unsure whether this news would be received positively or negatively by Izzy.

“Someone has to stay with the ship.” he remarked, you observed as Izzy turned abruptly, leaving you behind, though not without a moment of hesitation. He pivoted back to face you, his expression hinting at an unspoken urgency. “Thank you for inviting me.” he grumbled, before taking off once more. You stared off into his direction, feeling defeated, you could feel your shoulders slink down.

“Eso fue embarazoso” Jim whispered, wrapping their arm around you teasingly.

“Vete a la mierde” you retorted playfully, but as you rested your forehead on the side of the ship, a sense of embarrassment washed over you.

“It’s him that’s embarrassing, not you,” Jim reassured with an eye roll, yanking your arm gently to lead you towards the main deck where more members of the crew were waiting to go ashore.

The night took a turn for the better once the familiar sights of home surrounded you, leaving your interaction with Izzy a distant memory back on the boat. Your favorite bar looked exactly as you remembered, with its simple decor and the same cheap rum. Halfway through the night, your gaze caught a familiar face across the crowded bar - your childhood sweetheart, Samuel. He seemed almost surreal as memories from the past flooded your mind, but the love you once felt for him now felt like a distant echo of someone you used to be. It was still a comforting sight to see his face, and the remainder of the night, he stayed by your side, engaging with the crew.

He bought everyone drinks, eagerly listened to Stede’s tales of piracy, and repeatedly expressed his joy at seeing you again throughout the night. His presence brought a sense of relief, making home truly feel like home. Seeing him transported you back to your younger days when everything seemed simpler. You and Sam had been so young when you were together, and although relationships like that often don’t last, your parting had been amicable. You were both heading in different directions - the sea calling you while Sam seemed content to stay rooted at home.

In the end, it had been a successful night. Despite Izzy’s rejection weighing heavily on your mind, Sam’s presence provided a temporary distraction. The lively atmosphere of the bar, coupled with the antics of the rest of the crew, kept you on your toes. Sam left with a promise to find you the next night, and the crew set off back to the ship, the night’s events lingering in the air as they made their way home. As you walked back to the ship, Jim’s arm slipped around you, while they gave you a knowing gaze.

“No,” you interjected, feeling the weight of their unspoken question.

“I didn’t say anything.” Jim’s arm still draped comfortingly over your shoulder.

Archie caught up on your other side. “I like him,” she stated simply, lightly punching your arm.

“Leave it, you two,” Olu laughed from behind.

“It was good to see him,” you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “But we’re only here for a couple days.”

You and the crew returned to the ship, your arm linked with Olu’s as you strolled along, pointing out different buildings and sharing stories from your childhood. Though a part of you wondered what Izzy had been up to tonight, being with the crew always lifted your spirits.

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Izzy had spent the entire night pacing the ship, consumed by curiosity about what the crew was up to ashore, yet lacking the courage to join them. He cursed himself for being such a fucking coward, especially when it came to you. After everything that had happened with Edward, he had vowed to guard his heart against developing feelings for anyone, if he could help it. But slowly, without him realizing, you had managed to sneak your way into his heart, leaving him uncertain of what to do next. He had never been good at this kind of thing.

You had extended the invitation to spend time together, even if the entire crew would be there. Izzy regretted his hesitation and that he declined your offer. Izzy couldn’t shake the feeling that you were only including him out of kindness. He didn’t particularly enjoy big group gatherings, rowdy drinking, or any of the activities that typically accompanied shore leave. For him, it was much simpler to focus on getting a job done. Even still, he felt like he had made a mistake.

The next morning, Izzy found himself in the captain’s quarters, attempting to gather information about the day’s plans while absentmindedly running his finger through the flame of one of Stede’s candles. Stede calmly sipped on a cup of tea, nibbling on his breakfast, while Edward sat beside him, his fingers lightly tracing over Stede’s.

“You missed a fun night out, Iz,” Edward remarked with a smile, his fingers now intertwined with Stede’s. “You should come tonight.”

“Samuel was lovely. Wasn’t he, Ed?” Stede replied, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

“Yeah. He was,” Edward answered plainly, a small smile directed at Stede, though Izzy noticed the nervous glance Edward shot in his direction.

“Who the fuck is Samuel?” Izzy huffed, curious about Edward’s strange reaction.

As Stede explained that Samuel was your childhood sweetheart, Izzy’s lips tightened into a thin line, feeling a surge of heat rising from his chest. He sensed Edward’s eyes fixed on him and watched as Edward squeezed Stede’s hand, attempting to swiftly change the subject. Part of Izzy was thankful he wasn’t there, because the mere thought of you with someone else made his blood boil, yet having to imagine it was equally unpleasant.

“Like I said,” Edward whispered after Stede had finished, giving Izzy an encouraging glance, “you should come tonight, Iz.”

“Fine,” Izzy grumbled.

As the crew walked through the city, Izzy found himself reluctantly trailing towards the back of the group, keeping a watchful eye on you as you walked alongside Olu. Your gaze met his when you glanced back, offering a warm smile and a pat on Olu’s arm before halting in your tracks. You waited until Izzy caught up, falling into step beside him.

“I’m glad you’re coming tonight, Iz.”

Izzy felt your fingers lightly squeeze his arm. Despite trying to maintain a stoic position, Izzy felt his heart swell at your touch.

Izzy felt a small smile spread across his face. “Me too,” he replied nervously. Walking beside you, and feeling your small touch, had already made coming out tonight worth it.

At the table in the bar, you stayed by his side, engaging in conversation with him, Ed, and Stede. As the night progressed, Izzy found himself pleasantly surprised by how at ease he felt in your company. Your laughter was infectious, and the warmth in your eyes made him forget about his earlier hesitations. With each passing moment, Izzy found himself opening up, letting down the walls he had built around himself. His expression shifted abruptly as the crew began calling out Samuel’s name. A tightness crept into his features, his jaw clenching involuntarily at the sight of the unwelcome presence.

Izzy’s glare intensified as Samuel glided over and smoothly positioned himself next to you, his arm casually draping around your shoulders and drawing you closer. Izzy scrutinized your expression, noting the awkward smile that appeared on your lips.

“Samuel, this is Israel Hands, the first mate,” you gently introduced, directing your gaze towards Izzy.

Samuel extended his hand for a handshake, but Izzy only grunted in response, his body tensing with a mixture of annoyance and rage. Izzy quickly stood up, retreating to the bar and leaving the crew behind.

After a few minutes, Izzy felt someone join him and looked over to see you peering curiously at him.

“You okay, Iz?” you whispered.

“Fuck off.”

Izzy turned, leaning on the bar, to face the table and his crew. After glaring at Samuel for a moment, he noticed you were still standing there next to him.

“He seems like a twat,” Izzy hissed towards you.

He saw a small frown beginning to form on your face, but he felt his anger fueling him.

“You could give him a chance at least,” you said quietly.

Izzy only replied with a snort.

“He’s a good man. He cares about me” Izzy heard the anger beginning to rise in your voice. “He asked me to stay here with him.”

“Maybe you should,” Izzy shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant, but inside, he was consumed by panic. The mere thought of losing you from the ship fueled his hatred towards Samuel even more.

“You think I should stay here?” you asked, your tone tinged with uncertainty.

“Do whatever the fuck you want,” Izzy hissed back.

Izzy watched with a sinking feeling as tears seemed to form in your eyes, and you quickly turned away from him, heading back to the table. Instant regret flooded through him as he watched you from afar. He had pushed you away again, right into the arms of some twat named Samuel.

Izzy noticed Jim glaring at him from across the room, a clear indication of disapproval on their face. Before long, Ed joined Izzy by his side, patting his shoulder in a gesture of support.

“Hey, Iz,” Ed whispered, his expression clouded with concern. When Izzy made no move to speak, Edward persisted. “You’ve got to tell them how you feel. Talk it through. Stop being a dick.”

Izzy left the bar as quickly as he could, but Edward’s words echoed relentlessly in his mind. The mere thought of you leaving, staying here with another man, and no longer being on The Revenge made him feel sick to his stomach. When he finally reached the ship, he paced back and forth on the deck, his mind consumed by imaginary conversations with you. He desperately searched for something he could say to make you stay.

⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓

Tonight, as you walked back to the ship with the group, you remained silent, keeping to yourself instead of engaging in conversation with the group. You had made a decision earlier, telling Samuel that you were leaving with The Revenge. He had been understanding, as always, making goodbye feel harder. You had never entertained the idea of staying behind, not when you had finally found a new family on your ship. The truth was, you had only mentioned it to Izzy to gauge his reaction, to see if he cared enough to ask you to stay. But it was painfully obvious that he didn’t.

As you and the crew boarded the ship, you felt a soft grasp around your arm, gently leading you to the back of the ship. Turning, you saw that the grasp belonged to Izzy. Curiosity piqued, you followed him silently as he led you away from the group. Once you reached your destination, you and Izzy stared at each other for a moment, a palpable tension hanging in the air. Izzy appeared lost, unsure of what to say next. As the moment stretched into a long silence, you opened your mouth, intending to break the tension, but before you could speak, Izzy quickly began to talk.

“Don’t leave,” Izzy’s words pierced the silence, catching you off guard.

“What?”

“Don’t leave. I know I don’t have any right to ask you to stay, but don’t stay with that fucking twat.” Izzy’s gaze bore into yours, his eyes filled with intensity, almost pleading with you to reconsider.

“Why?” you whispered.

“Samuel might care about you, but there are people here who care about you more.” Izzy whispered back, his voice vulnerable as he nervously tugged at the ring around his neck.

“Like who?” The anticipation built within you, as you silently hoped he would say himself.

“Olu, Jim, Archie… the whole crew,” Izzy grumbled, his eyes shifting nervously towards the floor.

“Do you care about me more?” you asked sweetly, hoping to coax Izzy into meeting your eyes. “Because I care about you.”

At your words, Izzy’s gaze quickly met yours, a flicker of emotion dancing in his eyes. Then, slowly but steadily, Izzy’s features softened, his guard melting away as he reached out to gently cup your cheek. “I care about you more than that twat,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

“I’m not leaving, Iz,” you smiled warmly towards him, relief flooding through you. “I don’t know what I would do without the crew, without you.”

You and Izzy gazed at each other for a moment, the warmth of his touch lingering on your cheeks. Suddenly, a smirk flashed across your face as you finally understood what had been weighing on Izzy’s mind.

“You were jealous,” you teased, a knowing smile dancing on your lips.

“Fuck off,” Izzy replied, but you could see a smile stretching across his face, his attempt to maintain a stern facade failing.

“You like me,” you whispered, your eyes tracing his lips with a playful glint.

Izzy interrupted your playful banter with his lips, silencing your teasing words with a kiss filled with longing and desire. His lips were soft yet demanding against yours. You responded eagerly, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

“Wooo,” you heard Archie’s voice echo across the deck. “About time.”

The sound of her voice broke the spell, and you and Izzy turned to see the rest of the crew watching with amused grins. It was clear that your moment had not gone unnoticed, and a chorus of cheers and whistles erupted from the gathered crew members. You noticed Edward give a small wink to Izzy, a knowing look passing between them.

“I should make you jealous more often,” you giggled, the playful tone in your voice carrying a hint of mischief.

Izzy only rolled his eyes at this comment, unable to suppress a fond smile as he pulled you in again for another tender kiss.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd x reader #izzy hands #izzy hands x reader #ofmd fanfic

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leggerefiore · 1 year ago

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How would the Pokémon villains ask their partner to marry them?

cw: proposals, fluff

characters: Lysandre, Maxie, Archie, Volo, Cyrus

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ Truthfully, he is not sure why he has not proposed to you at some point. Lysandre does not expect to find another person he views as beautiful as nor does he think he would have you slip away from him, yet somehow, in the midst of his plans, it just never comes up. His work consumes him, and he barely has the time to contemplate marriage in his schedule. Yet, it crosses his mind after listening to a grunt talk about his plans to pay for his spouse's entrance fee. It suddenly occurs to him that many men his age and position are married. For a moment, he feels foolish for not acting sooner. There was no need to wait for his beautiful world to get married, after all.

☕️ He spends time bouncing ideas about how to do it with those he feels most comfortable with. Sycamore ends up encouraging him to do just do it naturally. Feeling that if he tries to make a show of it, that would become uncomfortable or distressed by what is supposed to be a happy moment. Malva asks if he cannot just delay it a bit longer, which he ignores. Suddenly, his perfect world cannot be achieved unless he is married. Lysandre begins to make plans for a trip in order to get away from work and make a memorable thing for you both. (Perhaps a proper farewell and remembrance of this world to him partially.)

☕️ A ring was bought to be something discreet yet meaningful. He had been extremely picky to the point that having it commissioned to be custom-made had been the only way to fulfil whatever he felt was necessary for his ring. A Hessonite Garnet had caught his attention, and a golden band felt like the only pairing he would allow. When he finally had it, his heart felt at ease. The orange shade of the gem was a colour that he had long since been fascinated with.

☕️ A trip to Snowbelle for a quiet getaway in the colder locale proved something much needed for both of you. Spending time cuddled up in a cabin was a pleasant escape from the endless stresses related to both of his organisations. Though, there were also a few trips out into the nearby forest for a relaxing hike and a trip to a nearby mountain range to try skiing and other winter proclivities. Of course, it was after a long day spent out in the freezing weather that he found himself with you snuggled into his side in front of a fire. The crackling of flames made his mind wander. The ring box was pulled out of his slacks' pocket.

“For many years now, I have been blessed to have you at my side,” Lysandre spoke with his voice down to a soft rumble, “I am eternally thankful that you and I met, and would never wish to lose you.” He grasped your left hand within his own as he knelt before you. His height made it feel a bit ineffective, but his eyes met yours with a strange gentleness that was solely reserved for those he deeply cared about. He brought out the ring and watched as it glimmered in the fire's light.

“Will you marry me, my love?” he asked with an exposed heart. Your denial could well and truly destroy him. “There is no other I find as perfect as you… Please, let us spend the rest of our lives entwined.”

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 He thinks about it unfortunately pretty often. Most men his age are married. Though, granted, most men his age also did not nearly destroy the world in pursuit of their own ideals. But, he did have a partner. One he was quite committed to. One that, if provided the opportunity, he would marry. Yet, he just had not found it in himself for so many reasons. His plans had required his full attention previously. Though, now, nothing like that stood in his way. A slight insecurity burned the Great Maxie's chest. He was not someone worthy of such things after what he did. An off-handed comment from Archie about you being his spouse is what finally set him over.

🪨 He quietly debates how to get everything together. There were many things that would need to be done in the case you said yes. Like meeting each other's families properly for a wedding discussion. Maxie truly did not want to do that part, but it was what was proper. He has a headache thinking about how to do it, too. Rings were the most common choice for proposing to a partner, so he knew he would need to look into that as well. Detailed lists are made and spied upon by Tabitha, who makes the rare decision to interfere. A suggestion to take you on a trip to Lavaridge seemed to make Maxie become a bit more grounded towards you.

🪨 Maxie about drives every possible jeweller in Hoenn insane. He is far too picky about the origins and details related to the gems in their rings, which makes him an annoying customer. There is little debate about what ring exactly he plans to give to you. He had already designed it on his computer and was searching for a shop either willing to make it or with something close enough that he could feel contented with it. A ruby ring with a golden band. He would settle for no more or less. The shimmering red of the gem may have reminded him of the shade of the Red Orb, but it also forced to mind his team's colour. Not to mention it just being his favourite gem. Somehow, he eventually found someone through Steven, who only sent aid when seeing a fellow rock enthusiastic in him.

🪨 The trip that Tabitha suggested ended up being a wonderful idea. A traditional inn and the shifting of the season into autumn made for a relaxing visit to the area and hot springs. While he may not enjoy the cold, he could recognise a good pairing. You seemed to enjoy the trip, too. Happy to get away from all the stresses of helping him run Team Magma and Courtney's new persistent glaring regiment. It was after a trip to the hot spring, that you found yourselves alone in your room, watching as the sun set behind the mountainous surroundings of the town. The swirling of leaves in the air and a quiet moment made him recall the ring box in his pocket.

“For what reason that has continued to see you at my side after my incalculable lapse in judgement, I do not know,” he began quietly, feeling that insecurity rise once again. You could do much better than him; you deserved much better than him. But, when you looked at him with eyes full of love, those thoughts were forced back. “I am ever thankful that I still have you in my life and that I was stopped before I destroyed this world,” Maxie felt his hand come to grasp yours. You felt so warm in his grip, your pulse beating in tandem with his own.

The ring was revealed by him as he swallowed. His glasses felt much too heavy on his face as he became aware of just how surreal everything was. “My dear, will you marry me?” The question felt like a solid weight in the air. “I don't think there's another person that I could see myself living out the end of my days with.”

🌧Archie🌊

💧 It crosses his mind a few times. He has been with for so long, and you have stuck at his side through his worst moments. Honestly, he just felt like it did not need to be done. You both clearly were basically married without all the official documents and what have you. The whole of Team Aqua already thought you to be his spouse, anyway. Something official felt redundant. Though, the second he heard Maxie intended to get married, suddenly his opinion shifted hard. Of course, the nerd would feel the need to go through all the legal channels and whatever else. He refused to let the redhead get ahead of him, however.

💧 He debates how to go about it. Between asking Matt and him just telling Archie to go ahead and do it with little thought, to Shelly forcing him to actually be realistic and doing something romantic first, he felt a bit confused. He sighed as the admin made him remember that he probably should speak to his and your families, but he felt that was all tiring. Who cared about tradition? All that mattered was love, and he certainly had that. He did find the talk about a gift of jewellery while doing it more interesting. Could he get you something to better match his anchor? His interest was not in the expected avenues. Archie highly doubted you were going to say no.

💧 He pretty quickly settles on a sapphire ring. It's blue, he likes blue, and it makes him think of the Blue Orb. It works pretty much to fulfil everything he would possibly need it to. Though, despite the insistence of the store clerk to go for a silver band, he demands a golden one. He needed it to match his necklace, after all. His original plan had been to get you a necklace like his, but Shelly shut that down the second it left his mouth. (Matt told him to still go for it, but he could tell the ring was probably a better choice in the end.)

💧 He takes you out for a quiet stroll on the beach of Lilycove as the sun was setting. The sound of the waves lapping against the shore almost felt in tune with his heartbeat. His eyes darted to you a few times, taking in how the light made you almost seem to be glowing. The ocean was nothing but a complimentary scenery as he felt whatever small nervousness melt away. You stuck with him even after the Kyogre madness and supported him wholeheartedly when he changed the direction of his team. He reached into the unzipped part of his wetsuit to go for the ring box.

“Luvdisc, I know tha' I have made some pretty unforgivable mistakes,” Archie felt a rare, sheepish grin fall across his face, “And I'm thankful that you have stuck by me through all that.” His eyes met yours as you cocked a brow up at where he could possibly be going with this. The two of you had long since discussed everything that happened, but he felt the urge to preface it all with that. He grasped your hand tightly as his usual grin split his face. There was nothing to worry about, the Aqua Leader reassured himself.

“Let's get married,” he proudly announced while pulling out the ring, “I already see ya as my spouse, so why not just make it official? I want to spend every day to come at your side.”

💫Volo📜

⭐️ Marriage never crosses his mind. Honestly, he doesn't even consider a long term in his life about most things. Marriage is not something overly common in Hisui. Sure, his people had traditions like it and the clans did, too. In his case, marriages were usually decided by the parents of the person, which resembled what most of the Galaxy Team seemed to favour. But, he could tell you viewed it differently. It was obvious you wanted whatever it was you saw it as with him. And then, after what happened at the Temple of Sinnoh between you both, he just saw it as impossible.

⭐️ Volo listened intensely to what you had to say about your time period as you went on about it. From what he deciphered, it was clear marriage is mostly viewed as a romantic thing to do in your time, not as a way of combing powers or funds. It interests him, as you continued onto proposals and modern married life. All of it interested him, but everything was impossible in the period you both resided in. Marriage between you two would be essentially nothing more than a quiet declaration between you both. There would be no rings or jewellery, only a common understanding of a dedicated relationship. While, he would have been fine with that, something told him that you would crave the image you had in your head of a wedding ceremony.

⭐️ Before he had time to even discuss such things with you, you were gone. The sky which spit you out in Hisui had consumed you once more and taken you back from whence you came. His frustration boiled in his chest. Arceus was mocking him at this point. He gripped a precious agate bracelet in his hand as he glared harshly at the sky. The accessory was difficult to obtain, having to sway previous merchant connections to have it. His plan had been to offer it as a gift before promising to spend his life at your side. It was far too late for that now. He fell to his knees in exhaustive feelings.

⭐️ It was his immortal life that granted him a second chance, he realised. What was meant to be a punishment – a curse, benefitted him greatly. You were in the future, after all. He had nothing but time. Which is how he ended up intercepting you as you stepped out into a more isolated place within Sinnoh. You had just held some sort of meeting with a descendant of his, something he cared little for. The bracelet was still with him all these years later. Volo caught your hand as he gave one of his more friendly smiles. Whatever stunned state you fell into passed quickly. The yellow agate caught the light dully as he slid it onto your wrist.

“... My, don't you look surprised?” he chuckled at your reaction to seeing him again, “I told you, didn't I? I'd meet Arceus even if it took me centuries.” His eyes met yours, feelings twisting in them plainly. It had been so long for him, yet no time for you. Unfair, he wanted to call, completely unfair. Your mind raced with so many things. It was certainly a bold move to propose so soon after re-meeting for the first time in who knew exactly how long, but he did not care. There had been more than enough time for him to reflect on his feelings.

“No matter, that's irrelevant,” he shook his head and pulled you close to him, smiling even brighter at you, “My love, let us finally be together. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of time with you.”

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ It crosses his mind at some point when he realises his age. Sure, many people hold off on marriage well into their thirties, and many people even then still opt against marriage due to how stressful it could be. Memories of attempts of arranged marriages by his parents scorn his mind. Business partners still offer their sisters and daughters to him in order to better strengthen deals and raise his status. It was after one of those particular meetings that he felt the urge to finally marry you. His plans had failed, already. There was no point in delaying things further here.

☄️ Cyrus plans a nice dinner at one of the more expensive restaurants in Jubilife, trying to set the mood more than his original plans. Mars had seen his notes about telling you plainly that he planned to merge your family registers and have you legally listed as his spouse. It seemed easier than all the elaborate bells and whistles of inviting you to marriage. A ceremony was deeply unwanted by him. He knew you would not say no, but she insisted on him being romantic and being polite to at least consider your feelings. Besides, it was not like he had parents for you to discuss this with, and yours likely would not be opposed to a marriage with him. At least, as long as they did not know of his previous plans, he supposed.

☄️ He struggled with what to do. Mars insisted he get you a gift. A ring screamed romance to her, but she suggested that he focus on something that you would like. A ring was a common choice, so he presumed it was the safest option. A bright heliodor gem with a silver band seemed pleasant enough to suffice. The clerk had ecstatically explained to him the meanings of them gem, but he cared little to recall much more than some odd association with leadership. Though, the name itself was admittedly what attracted him. Perhaps your waxing poetic about his name's meaning had unconsciously wore off on him.

☄️ It was after the dinner that he brought you out to an isolated place within the city that he took your hand within his as he turned to face you. His eyes gazed at your ring finger as thoughts rushed through his mind. He hated how breathless he felt. The thought of you both unified together made him feel strange. Feeling in general was hard for him, but the idea of finally tying himself to this world was exhausting. Your voice calling his name with a lightly concerned tone snapped him out of it. His hand fished the ring box out from his suit coat pocket.

“... I know I am not the easiest person to live with,” Cyrus began while meeting your eyes, “Every day I am eternally grateful that I have you in my life still. Your presence calms me down from the strange emotional turmoil that foolishly claims me.” He stops himself from going further. Memories of all the time you two had spent together dances behind his eyes. You were the only reason he left the Distortion World. The ring is presented by him with a desperate need to hide his shaking hands.

“Allow us to marry,” he forced down any unwanted hesitation, “I believe you are the only person I could ever wish to spend my days with.”

#pokemon x reader #volo x reader #cyrus x reader #lysandre x reader #maxie x reader #archie x reader #pokemon archie x reader #pokemon lysandre x reader #pokemon maxie x reader #pokemon volo x reader #pokemon cyrus x reader #pokemon/reader #archie/reader #maxie/reader #lysandre/reader #volo/reader #cyrus/reader

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