#but my brain hasn't let me eat much of anything all day because it's not 'the right food'

[underwhelmingalchemist]

Starting pride month with the pharmacy denying me my testosterone prescription until mid-June and my doctor saying she can't do anything about it because it's a controlled substance 🙃✌️

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Humanity

[CW: Passive suicidal ideation.]

Being a person feels... heavy. Like I'm always full of something. It didn't have to be gross, but it usually was. Sometimes it was something with an easy word to it, like disdain or cowardice, but usually it was more vague. Some sort of congealed, disgusting mass that's been slowly accumulating for as long as I've been alive, weighing my guts down until I'm too stressed to eat and too tired to sleep.

I don't want to die. Death sounds too painful, and I'm scared of commitment. But, as I looked out into the bay, waiting for the traffic on the toll bridge to advance, I can't help but daydream. If I drove into the river, just by some freak accident out of my control, I... wouldn't do much to fight it. I would just let whatever happens happen as I sit still. Let this heaviness in my chest weigh me down and drown me.

My whole life was like that, really. Just moment after moment of letting things out of my control happen to me. My parents never really let me do much, either because we didn't have money, or they decided it wasn't right. I had to move out young after they died, and that didn't give me much of a choice in where to work and where to rent. I didn't even have a chance to think about what my major would've been.

Being a waitress meant doing what you're told when you're told, which table to go to and what to bring them, and what to clean. The work itself was fine, it's just... everything around it. The same awful people just as trapped here as I am, the same inconsiderate boss that barely pays me enough to buy vegetables, the same disgusting smell of fish and chips, all building up and coagulating little by little.

The only way I could get through an average work day was by shutting my brain off and just letting my body move on its own. The years I've worked there have just been the same fog of meaningless obedience. It's a sort of torture, suppressing your ego all just to become your work, for the sake of people you hate. Just feeling full and heavy and gross.

That's how I survived most of my life. Ever since I started school, I learned quick that you keep your head down and go with the flow. Don't be too loud, too big, too anything. Just look pretty and do what you're told without thinking too hard about what you're doing. Try not to feel too much.

Of course dying isn't that big of a deal. I don't feel like I was ever truly alive, ever something that could really be called a person.

Oh, I'm home.

God it's so cold out. It's like the wind is trying to bite me through my coat. I really wish our heating worked, but I've given up trying to fight for it a long time ago.

I can hear the music from here. I swear to fucking god if she's throwing another party I'm going to scream. She can't keep doing this, she really can't.

I fumble with my keys because it's too cold in the hallway, and I struggle with the lock because it hasn't been replaced in over a decade. This is the right key, and I keep trying to turn it, but it won't unlock and my fingers are starting to hurt.

Today needs to end. Please. I just need to stop, after everything, I just need things to stop and let me be still for a single fucking-

Finally.

I leave the door open for as little time as I can. I don't even take my coat off before I march into the living room. She's there, on the couch with more friends than I've ever met. They're all smiling, talking with each other, and having fun. They're smoking weed inside.

I need to stop looking at the one sitting on the arm of the couch, she's not important right now.

"Hey, what the fuck?!" I raise my voice to be heard over the music and drunken ramblings. "I told you that you can't keep doing this, I'M the one who gets in shit for this with the landlord!"

She looked around her, gauging her guests' reactions. She forces a timid smile. "Hey, you don't have to make a big deal out of this, alright? Nothing's gonna happen if nobody tells on us, so just relax." She turns away from me, back to the others. To the woman on the arm of the couch. My roommate falls into this sort of drunken fawning, trying to excuse my behaviour, but that woman on the arm of the couch doesn't join in with them exaggeratedly rolling their eyes or shooing me away.

"I'm not the bad guy here! You're the one who keeps...!" I wince, bringing a hand over my eyes as I recoil into the door frame. It's so loud. "Fuck it, I can't do this with you, I'm going to bed." I turn and leave and slam my door and lock it. She turns the music back up. I'm ordering food and going to sleep.

After I stop crying.

. . . . .

"Do you like your life, darling?"

I'm floating. I'm naked. I can't tell where I am. I don't think I'm anywhere.

"...No."

The woman from earlier. I couldn't stop thinking about her all night. The way she looked, how she carried herself, it was just stuck in my brain.

She's so... big. She's towering over me. I'm like a toy, barely up to her shins.

This isn't a dream. She's there. I can feel her in front of me, almost more real than being awake. I've never been more lucid before.

"Such a poor thing..." She looks so sad. For me?

She's kneeling. "Let me take all that hurt away. I've always wanted nothing more than to help someone like you live the life they deserve." I should be scared. I shouldn't trust her. "I already know you'd make such a good doll~"

I look down at my body. It's fluctuating, moving in and out as I look at myself. My torso is flat and wooden like a marionette, but with each breath in it expands with cloth instead of skin. I can feel the seems of my stitches, the plastic of my joints, the clattering of my porcelain, all at once. It feels... welcome.

She's reaching for me. I know I should flinch, I should be scared of her crushing me as she wraps her hands around me like a doll, but I can't even remember what such a distrust would feel like. She's pulling me to eye level.

Why does her touch feel so... nice?

I feel a breach, like I've just come up for air. I can feel my soul hack and sputter, and finally begin to breathe. I've never felt so light, so emptied. Everything disgusting inside of myself was drained away. Have I been drowning all this time?

"Meet me whenever you're ready, darling." I know where she means. I see her manor, grand and sprawling, but tucked away just out of sight. I can see it so perfectly. "I'll be waiting for you there."

Her hands start to loosen, and I start to fall, further and further away from Miss.

I inhale sharply, way too deeply, as I wake up. It feels like I'm gasping for air. My whole body... hurts is the wrong word, there's a heavy rawness pulsating through me. It's not the heaviness normally in my chest. I'm in a puddle of sweat. I can feel my heartbeat behind my eyes.

My phone says it's 4:37 am. I don't care. I need to see her.

. . . . .

It's a blur. I'm on autopilot, too wired to think. This doesn't feel like before, this isn't the fog. This is pure intention.

I find myself in my car, driving to her. I know where to go, I know. I need to get there. I can't afford to waste any time.

I leave my car parked on a dirt road and wander into the forest just as the sun starts to rise. I didn't bother grabbing anything I didn't need to get here, and I left what i did grab in the car anyway. I didn't even take the keys out of the ignition. Whatever happens, I'm not coming back.

It's a few minutes of walking from the road to her manor. I have plenty of time to reconsider. It's not too late to go back. I'm afraid, of course. My self-preservation is trying to restrain me by my neck. But every time I think about giving into that fear, that complacency stopping me from stepping into the unknown, the idea of returning to what was... I keep walking. I couldn't explain why. Too much momentum, too heavy to bother stopping.

I'm here. Oh god, this is really happening. I lean against the house on an outstretched arm as I stare at the front door. It's thick and wooden, like something from a fairy tale. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and raise a fist. She opens the door before I can knock.

This is really happening.

"Oh, I'm so happy you came, darling!" She quickly reaches an arm around me and ushers me through the door. "And so quick, too! I knew I made the right choice."

She sits me down on the couch and disappears just a room away. Before I can even admire the decor, she returns with two glasses, and a jug of iced tea. She sits down beside me, pours herself a glass, and sets the jug out of my reach.

She takes a swig of her drink, leaning back and swirling it in her cup. She stretches her arm across the back of the couch. I could cuddle up to her so easily, and I've never before felt this tempted to do that with someone. "Tell me what you know about dolls."

I feel something I've never felt before. Just a little, just enough.

"U-uh..." I try to gather everything I can. I don't know why I'm so caught off guard by the question, I came here for a reason. But saying it out loud, actually articulating these feelings, is something totally foreign.

"A doll is like a person, but... not." I take a deep breath. I feel like I'm standing in front of a stadium of thousands. "Witches use their magic to turn people into dolls so they can have servants. And... there are rules to being a doll, like how you have to call yourself an object, and do everything you're told."

I look at her for approval. She's waiting for me to continue. "Am I gonna be a doll?"

The witch almost... melts. She has such a kind, compassionate smile. She sets her drink down and turns her body to face me as much as she can. "Do you want to be a doll, darling?"

"I... I mean, I, uh..." I have never felt more like prey. Why is my face so warm? I'd do anything for her.

She reaches out and takes my hands, that I was holding up to my chest defensively. I leave them limp, just letting her grab them. I feel my shoulders start to lower just a little bit. She's so warm.

"Dolls are empty spaces shaped like people." She teaches me. "Dolls are objects that are obedient and docile. There's a special feeling they have called stillness, where your thoughts go away and you just feel happy." She starts to smile, a tender eagerness. "Can you feel it now?"

I feel it. I feel it. I feel it, I feel it. The stillness. She's making me still. It's gone. I don't feel heavy. I'm empty in such a wonderful way. I feel like I could float through the breeze for the rest of my life and be perfectly happy. Like I could do anything, and I would be happy. Is this what life was supposed to feel like? All this time?

"It's a big decision, darling." Her voice is so... magical. It's calming, it's exciting, it's everything to me. "This can only happen if you want it to. Think about your old life, everything you'll leave behind. This is your last chance."

I think about being a human. I think about everything that comes with being a human, the things I'll lose. My autonomy, my identity, things I was never granted in the first place. The privilege of destroying my self just a little every day, all to save myself the trouble of feeling. More than anything, that disgusting heavy feeling, the filth so deeply compacted inside me I thought it was inherent to being.

"Y... y-yes... yes, I want to be a doll!" I'm smiling so wide. Crying hasn't felt this good in a long, long time.

The witch smiles back at me. She pulls me into her, hugging me so tenderly. She's soft, and warm, and so many things.

"You're going to become such a good doll."

Good doll. I can finally feel good.

[soonyoungs]

OH MY GOD HI!!! PLEASE THINK ABOUT THIS WITH ME BECAUSE I'M GOING CRAZY: https://x.com/kinulta/status/1758079004891119867?t=gqoiVpFsS-sWDhu2m910jw&s=19

this is SO woozi... he hasn't touched you properly for exactly 2 weeks and you are so so needy... so on a normal day at the studio you go to check it out if he is eating, he simply decides to take a break. he sits with you on the couch, talks a little, until kisses automatically appear. at first, small kisses with smiles on both sides, but everything goes wrong when he puts you on his lap. the pink mouth attacking yours and you can't hold back, letting out a soft moan between the contact. you want him SO MUCH, but you don't force him to do anything or demand anything from him, because you know how busy he is. HOWEVER, he surprises you when he takes out his own cell phone and starts recording a video. you find it strange, but then you understand the real function. he asks you to sit on the floor, so that the camera captures his pretty face well ☝🏻 and his only demand is that you stay quiet. nothing else. like a good girl you obey. you're still so turned on and you only realize how much when he has his fingers in you and his hand over your mouth, working to really keep you still. the little body that hasn't felt this for so many days is overloaded and that's why you cum faster than normal, letting a squeaky, sly noise leave your lips when the orgasm comes... and you think he'll probably finish and go back to work, but once again he surprises you by continuing to play with your sensitive clit and your intimacy, It's SO MUCH, your legs are shaking nonstop and you you can hear the wet noises throughout the studio. you know it’s too much but you still leave him there because you know he probably needed it more than you did and only after the fourth orgasm does he stop, you're exhausted and he hasn't used anything other than his fingers. your mind is blank and you desperately need a hug... he kisses your forehead and fixes your hair, saying that you are a good girl and obeyed him just as he asked. so he stops the recording and whether he'll fuck you afterwards or not... it's up to you, love

please please please please PLEASE

ఇ woozi and gn!reader (mentions of a clit and vagninal insertion!)

ఇ warnings: smut! not proofread! implied squirting maybe? as usual i do not know how to end things so abrupt ending :(

ఇ wc: 2,052

ఇ notes: baby you basically wrote this yourself!! i hope this is okay and im so sorry it’s taken me forever to get it out! ♡︎

weeks. it had been weeks since you last properly saw him, let alone touched him. it was becoming a problem, a very difficult and needy problem. however you had come to the conclusion that you can’t be too upset with him, as your job has kept you away from home just as much as his.

it wasn’t until you had a day off that you had reached your breaking point. you had to see him, today. sitting on your couch all day just waiting for the hours to tick by so you could catch a glimpse of your lover. it was around 7:00 pm when you had given in to your curiosities and decided to go see him yourself. 

throwing on a hoodie you grab your essentials and order a taxi. anxiety and anticipation rumble in your tummy, almost bubbling over, along the way. questions bouncing all over your brain. has he been eating? does he rest properly? as you continue thinking the worst your taxi pulls up beside an all too familiar building. you jump out, tip the driver and make your way upstairs, muscle memory taking over.

once you get to where you need to be you hesitantly knock on the door before opening it, briefly exposing his studio to the outside world. “hello,” you call out, softly, only to make your presence known “is anyone here?”

you can hear the sound of keys clacking as you move farther into the room. once you’ve made it far enough in you shyly clear your throat, trying to get his attention, again. this time he reacts to you, jumping slightly before turning his neck to see how has interrupted his brainstorming. “oh,” he exclaims “babe, what are you doing here?” he’s not able to hide his excitement as his smile grows wide on his face.

he moves over to you and embraces you tightly. “is this mine,” he asks tugging at the hem of the hoodie you’re wearing. you laugh and nod, mumbling something about how it smells like him and whatnot. the sound of your laugh gets his heart racing and has the tips of his ears burning red at record speed. he’s missed you, that much you can clearly tell.

you lean in to his touch, nuzzling your head into his neck, leaving small pecks. “missed you. missed you a lot, ji” you sigh, finally letting your body relax against his. he hums as he rubs your back. after standing in the middle of his studio for a solid five minutes, muttering “missed you”’s and “i love you”’s to one another, woozi takes your hand and leads you to the couch he has, off to the side, for late nights. 

once he’s sat on the cushions he pulls you down, onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you in place. he’s rocking you back and forth as you both catch up on the activities and work that’s kept you from each other. “it sucks,” you pout “hate that you’re so good at what you do. it keeps you away from home too much”. he knows you only mildly mean it, knows you’re just being needy and pouty so he lets it go.

you sigh and lean back in to him as he begins to rub soothing circles on your hips, before tapping his fingers to create a beat in his mind. you turn your head into his neck and leave small kisses there, trying to divert his attention away from work and back to you. “ji,” you voice comes out breathy, needy “missed you,” you say it again, batting your eyelashes at him, hoping he catches on this time. he laughs at your failed attempt at nonchalance before adjusting the both of you, so he can plant kisses on your face, your nose, your eyes, your ears, your neck, anywhere he’s able to reach.

woozi lifts your chin and leans in to give you a soft kiss on your lips. you sigh into the kiss, reaching up to run your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, gently massaging his scalp. after a few minutes of soft kisses and taking small breathers, woozi leans in to give you a deep, longing, kiss. catching you off guard, you let out a small moan and let your hips lift off of his lap a little, signaling that your neediness is almost to the point of uncontrollable. woozi smiles into the kiss and deepens it even further. “be good for me,” he nips at your bottom lip “okay, baby?”

you nod frantically, waiting for instruction. woozi moves you to his side, placing you on the couch directly. you begin to pout before realizing woozi has gotten up and placed his phone on the counter in front of you, making sure it’s able to capture the couch and anything that might happen there. he looks at you, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. you nod before opening your mouth “yes, it’s okay, want it”. you weren’t quite sure what it was, but you’re hoping to find out soon.

woozi makes his way back to the couch, and you. sitting himself back in the spot he had vacated earlier, he motions for you to place yourself back on his lap. you quickly do as instructed. as you take your seat, you can feel the beginning of his excitement starting to grow. once nestled back in his lap you begin to move your hips slowly, looking back to see his reaction. woozi has his head tilted back, neck pressed against the head rest of the couch. he slowly lifts his head, bringing his hands to your hips to halt your movements. “said you’d be good, remember,” he questions, cocking an eyebrow. you let out a small “yes” before facing forward. “good baby,” he mutters, leaning forward to kiss your neck “now, i need you to be so quiet, okay”.  he’s bringing his hands down to the hem of the hoodie you’re wearing and dragging his fingers up the length of your thigh, all the way to your panties. your breath catches in your throat, it’s been weeks without his touch and the gentle way he’s handling you now is driving you insane. the slow pace that he’s going causes your frustrated hips to push up, wanting to force him into applying pressure, but he’s not ready for that yet.

removing his hand from your panties, woozi moves to remove your hoodie, leaving you only in your undies. the cool air in the studio creates chills all over your skin and you arch your back at the feeling. woozi puts his hand back where it had originally been, against your core. he can feel the heat through the thin fabric of you panties. “needy, huh” he asks, knowing damn well he was just as needy as you. “yes, ji” you confirm “i’m so needy for you. i’ve missed you so much, it’s been hell without you there to take care of me.”

woozi nods in agreement, it’s been hell for him without you too, but now’s not the time to discuss that. he pushes the center of your panties to the side, sliding his fingers through your warm slick. you sigh and throw your head back against his shoulder, reaching down to steady yourself against his wrist. “feel good,” he questions, lips pressed against the side of your head in a small kiss. you nod, letting out a whiny “uh-huh”. he continues to softly get his finger wet, teasing you along the way.

once he’s deemed his fingers wet enough he inserts two at once, scissoring them in order to give you a good stretch. you bite your lip, remembering your vow of silence. your breaths come out in heavy puffs as you try not to moan. he continues to stretch you for just a bit longer before he’s inserting another finger and moving at a slightly faster pace. his fingers hit deep inside you and do wonders to fill you to the brim. your chest is heaving at your nearing climax. woozi knows you’re close by the small squeaking noises you’re making. he moves his fingers faster, adjusting his wrist so his fingers hit the deepest part inside of you, knowing it drives you mad. your back is arching off of his chest as he catapults you into your orgasm. “so good baby,” he’s whispering “so hot, want you to cum just like this. cum all over my fingers baby,” and at his command you do such. your eyes roll back and your mouth is open in a silent scream as woozi continues to move his fingers inside of you, helping you to ride out your high. 

your body is so exhausted the it slumps against woozi, sliding down on to the ground in front of the couch. realizing he isn’t finished with you, woozi leans forward spreading your knees baring them to his phone, who’s camera is still recording. you bend your neck to look up at him. he leans down, giving you a kiss before reaching down to slide your panties off of you completely. once he’s removed the garment he places a finger against your core, teasing your clit. you groan and toss your head back, resting against his knee. “quiet baby,” he warns, placing his free hand over your mouth. the fingers on his other hand begin rubbing harsher circles against you. he continues alternating between gentle and harsh touches before he inserts them again. it doesn’t take much for you to be launched into your second and third consecutive orgasms. 

he removes his hand from your core and places his fingers in his mouth, tasting you. his other hand has moved from you mouth to your head, petting you softly as you pant. woozi removes his fingers from his mouth and holds your chin so he can make eye contact with you. “one more baby, okay,” he asks gently, knowing it’s been a while since you’ve been intimate with one another. you lazily nod your head and lean your cheek against his thigh, turning every once and a while to leave a kiss or love bite.

woozi reaches down again, this time without restraint. he knows that if it’s going to be the last time you cum tonight he will make it the best. he’s moving his fingers at lightning speed, eliciting loud groans and whines from you. as he previously did before, he reaches his other hand up to your mouth, only this time pushing his two middle fingers in your mouth and down your throat. the fingers on your clit continue moving faster and harder throwing you to the brink of orgasm in seconds. your back is arched to a point that worries woozi, but he doesn’t dare stop. the wet, squelching sounds that are coming from you would normally embarrass you, but you feel like you’re experiencing everything out of body at the moment. tears and drool are running down your face as your pleasure reaches an almost fever pitch. woozi finally feels he needs to show you some mercy and pinches your clit in between his rubs.

your eyes cross one last time, as you are thrashing against woozi’s body. your thighs are shaking so violently you are certain you won’t be able to use them for days. a heat forms in your gut as you approach your climax and when it hits you see white, tossing your head back, the fingers in your mouth do little to muffle your screams and cries. woozi’s fingers continue to work at your core, gently swiping your clit every so often, making sure to rub the clear slick, pouring out of you, everywhere he can. 

once you’ve gotten through your high, woozi kisses your head, pets your sides and rocks you back and forth “you did so good,” he whispers in your ear. “i’m so proud of you, what a good baby,” he kisses your eyes and your nose before giving you a sweet kiss on the lips. you moan into the kiss and look up at him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “ji,” you whimper, letting him know you’re not finished. “i know baby,” he smiles “i’m not done either,”

[sweetstars-posts]

SKINNY,

M. STURNIOLO x FEM!SINGER!READER

(if you don't want to be a singer, it could be anything in the public eye, it’s only mentioned a little!!)

WARNINGS — mentions of eating disorders, depression, anxiety, ALSO pet names (bc apparently that triggers ppl or smth).

a/n — this is a deep story based on billie eilish’s new song, skinny. as someone who faces troubles with eating, i wanted to make this for me and for those who need it <3

word count — 1.5k

(not proofread)

The rain is hitting the glass of my bay window as you stare helplessly out of it. The window opened a crack; the smell of fresh rain wafting into your room.

Your eyes are dull and lifeless — like you’re waiting for something that won't ever arrive. There's an aching feeling in your stomach, one that isn’t just nerves.

Your body ached as you haven’t moved from the soft plush cushions of the bay window for a couple hours.

Nothing in life felt appealing right now. The constant bodyshamming from the public eye got you back into a seemingly never-ending spiral.

People only seem to like you if you’re skinny. Eating was always a struggle, but now it almost feels like a game. Competing with yourself over and over again for trying to reach a certain weight goal that you won’t realistically achieve.

Everyone keeps saying you’re happier now. But are you? No. Complete sadness overtook you, but it was okay, because now you’re skinny.

But you also felt guilty.

You haven’t spoken to your boyfriend Matt in a couple days. You’ve been dating for 3 years and he knows every single thing about you. You still don’t have the energy to get up and try to find your phone which is nowhere to be found at the moment.

But knowing Matt, he probably knows what’s happening again. This seems to always happen. It’s like a record player that keeps repeating and repeating until the vinyl slowly starts to scratch and warp.

Your eyes falter slightly but they never seem to fully close. It’s like they can’t.

Your mind is racing 20 miles per hour but you can’t seem to comprehend a single word going through your brain.

The phone rings, the sound coming from somewhere in the mess of sheets on your bed.

A little while has passed and your phone still hasn't stopped. The obnoxious ringing made you even more aggravated. Yet somehow you felt stuck, like you couldn’t move to get your phone.

The sound absorbed into a dull hum from all the thoughts racing through your head.

You felt numb and lifeless. Like you were viewing yourself in a VR headset.

Time shaped into nothingness as your bedroom door creaked open. Your boyfriend, Matt’s, head peeks through the door.

His eyes soften as he sees your fragile figure on the soft cushions.

He closes the door behind him as he walks into the room. He makes a mental note to clean your room for you later. As he nears you, he sits on the floor, in front of the bay window.

His soft hands, grab your hands lightly, “I got you, it’s okay,” he finally breaks the silence.

Short jagged breath’s release your mouth, as you finally move your eyes away from outside, to him. He slowly moves to hold your head between his hands.

Tears slowly start to prick your eyes, yet you still don’t look away from him. Tears flow and flow, you have no control. Strangled breaths release, as you struggle to catch air.

“Hey, hey, I got you,” Matt’s fingers brush your tears away, his cold rings sending a series of chills down your spine.

Matt brought you into a warm embrace, lowering you down from on top of the seat, to his lap. He cradled you as if you were a broken fragile doll.

He pressed kisses towards your head, letting you release all those pent up emotions.

Neither of you knew how much time had passed, nor did either of you care.

Your breath’s evened out, and your tears died down. And Matt was still there by your side.

“Do you wanna talk?…” Matt questioned after a while.

“I’m just….tired” Your small tired voice let out.

Matt kissed your nose lightly before slowly standing up, pulling you up with him. He made his way to the bathroom connected to your room.

Upon setting you on the counter, he turns on the bath, letting it run for a little. He got everything ready — your clothes, a brush, and got all the small essentials, as you got in the tub.

He washed your hair, lathering the shampoo lightly. He then grabbed your brush and slowly brushed through the large matted knots.

“How about…after this we go back to mine? We can watch Inside Out because I know how much you love that movie,” His offer makes you smile, “And then we can work our way from there, how does that sound?”

You nod in response, too exhausted to speak.

After finishing up, Matt slowly helped you into one of his large sweaters and some pajama pants. Matt started to grab your phone and small things you would need to stay over (although most of your things are already at the triplets house).

“You ready, baby?” Matt extends his hand out towards you.

You grab his hand with a little small smile. Whatever joy you had in you was put towards Matt right now.

Matt led you to his car, opening the passenger seat. You could tell Chris sat there last. The seat was reclined and the seat was altogether far. You smiled at the way Chris left it.

“This kid doesn’t know how to fix his seat, I swear” Matt complained, as he helped you fix the seat.

Matt soon got into the driver side soon after closing your door.

“Where too?” Matt asked gently.

You looked at him in confusion. Weren’t you going to his house?

“C’mon, baby, we’re going somewhere to eat. Even if it’s something small, just… get something in your system.” Matt rubbed his hand against your knee.

The thought of food makes you want to throw up on the spot. You hated that he knew, but you loved that he cared.

“Nowhere..” You mumble quietly, head against the window.

You didn’t want to make this harder on Matt. But the genuine guilt fills you by just thinking about laying a finger on food.

“Sweetie, you need something.” Matt started the car, but ended up driving towards his house, “When we get home, you can have some toast. Even one slice, okay?”

You silently nod.

Matt pulled into the garage. As you and Matt make it inside, you can already hear Chris and Nick yapping about some movie they are watching in the living room.

As much of a bad mood you could be in, those triplets will always put a smile on your face.

Matt’s hand rests on the lower section of your back, gently guiding you through the basement. The two of you slowly walk up the stairs.

Chris and Nicks heads snapped towards the stairs as they heard footsteps, obviously Matt had told them.

Nick came running up to you guys first. He pulled you into a light hug, holding the back of your head with his hand, rocking you ever so slightly.

He pulled away, his hands resting on your face, “I’m so glad you’re okay, kid.”

Chris pushed Nick out of the way, “HEY! My turn”

Chris pulled you into a bone crushing hug, way more strong than Nicks. You smiled slightly into his shoulder.

“We were all so scared,” Chris whispered quietly.

As you guys pulled away, Matt grabbed your hand again, walking you towards his room, but not before bidding a small bye to Nick and Chris.

Matt closed the door behind him, as you went to sit on your designated side of his bed.

“I’ll be right back okay?” Matt kissed your head gently, before walking out of the door.

Matt had started to make a small piece of toast. Knowing you won't want to eat the other half, he put it on a plate for Chris to eat later.

Matt walked the short trip to his room, pulling the door open.

“Here, love” Matt put the plate on your lap.

You slowly grabbed at the piece of toast. Guilt swarmed you like a bunch of bees. Instead of taking a bite, you just stayed there.

Matt was now seated on his side, “It’s okay, Baby, it’s fine,” He rubbed your arm encouragingly.

Slowly but surely, you ate the piece of toast. Matt put on “Modern Family” while you ate. He never pushed you to eat faster, he was comforting and only wanted you to be comfortable.

“Good job!!” Matt’s large smile was contagious, it made you smile too.

As some time passed, you guys just stayed in each other’s presence. Not many words were said, but it was a comforting silence that everyone needs in their lives.

You and Matt were all cuddled up, your head resting on his chest. His hand rubbing your back gently.

His soft touch and actions, that lured you into a soft slumber.

“Goodnight, my love” Matt kissed the top of your head, himself feeling awfully tired.

At the end of the day, all you needed was a loving soul to guide you through your troubles. And Matt was that person. He was the light in your dark cave.

[themareverine]

Closer to Hell | shortking!DP&WLogan x fem!OC

SYNOPSIS: He may be five inches closer to hell than she is, but he takes up more space than God, sets fire to anything he’d dare to touch. 

warnings: flirtation, short king!Logan (don't come for me), ogling, eye candy, absolutely nothing else but filthy thoughts, maybe some eye fucking.

a/n: it's my 100 celebration fic, yay me! i recently rolled over to 110 i think during the holiday, and i wanted to do something super fun for my 100 celly. i decided to play with comics-accurate, short king Logan, because i feel like we really don't appreciate him all that much. a small part of my brain hasn't stopped thinking about him. thanks to all my followers, you guys make me possible on this website, and without your interaction and all your fun stuff, life really would be so much more boring.

“Monkey Shoulder, neat—if you got it.” 

Fingers pause, hovered over a tablet that looks as if it’s been to hell and back, only to survive the purgatory that is staring into the bartender’s face. Maybe forties, gray has overtaken the once-striking ruddiness of his beard, crows feet all but eating the templepieces of too-thick glasses perched on the end of his nose. 

Once gawking at her has clocked enough time, he bats aside the tablet, the screen swiveling away, maybe in relief. 

Curious if he’ll actually serve the scotch—it’s about the fourth bottle from the left of the very back row of liquors lined against the mirrored wall, not a cheap bottle by any means. Hardly top-shelf, either. An unusual request, sure, but, she’s always made a habit of trying out the screwy names when she’s traveling—and in this dress, in this bar, well. Exceptions certainly can’t be made. Cool vinyl of the barstool’s plush nips at the back of her legs as she plunks down, docking her heels on the bottom rung of the stool. 

“Whatever you say, swee’heart,” gaps in his teeth make pronunciation difficult, but he nods at her respectfully. Lithe, practiced grace turns him aboutface on his heel, short fingers plucking the bottle from that very back shelf. Mirrored reflection reveals a popped brow of we’ll see how this goes. Giving the bottle a little swirl, the copper liquid spins a tornado, wild and dangerous in its glass prison. Unstops the bottle with a jerk of his wrist, the little pop tipping up the corner of her lips. 

Seconds, maybe, and the short glass plunks down in front of her, untouched scotch all but begging to be acknowledged. Her finger lazily traces the rim, even from here she can taste the bark of the liquor, how it hums. Warm and biting, her chest flutters with anticipation—of all the drinks she’s sampled over the years, scotch is a favorite. Next to whiskey, but, whiskey she’s had plenty of the last few days. Scotch will be a nice tamer, something to shake up the night—shake up the thoughts burrowing trenches through the arteries and cavities in her chest. 

Sliding him her credit card, it’s plastic bites against the bartop. Watching him log the number, he hands it back. She buries it against the band of her bra, against her sternum. Eyes rolling, the bartender trudges away as if he’s witnessed some great atrocity, down the other end of the bar—takes an order with hushed whispers, leaving her to eyeball her scotch in solidarity. Silence. 

Friday and however much this dress would all but stand up and demand attention, she’s alone. But that’s no great sorrow—to be alone and actually let it eat away at the marrow in her bones would mean it is unwelcome, unfamiliar. Solo is all too familiar, rent free on her person–the devil and angel parked on either shoulder, guiding her through moments. It’s been this way her entire life, sparkling personality and sunshine attitude aside. Loudest wallflower to ever exist, perfectly forgettable—she’s great company when she’s seen, otherwise all too invisible. It’s learned behavior, expected of society’s less fortunate. 

A quick flick of her foot has the barstool swiveling, her elbow parked on the bar behind her. Eyeballing the room quickly reveals that, wallflower that she is—she’s an overdressed one, at that. And she could, probably, forgive herself. Hadn’t exactly expected Mulligan’s to be an axe-throwing venue, complete with Toby Keith on repeat and flannel-clad lumberjack wannabees and their buckle bunnies—axe bunnies? 

A sip of the scotch has her nose scrunching a little, the splash in the back of her throat almost hot,  even at room temp. Two lines to her right, a cute blonde does one hell of a job playing dumb as her date comes up behind her, helping her take stance. All but popping her ass back into his pelvis, there is not a stitch of air between them that could be breathed—he’s a little unbalanced. Probably that last Coors, she’s giggly and her face is red as a beet. Probably one too many Mich Ultra’s. Together they crack up into laughter, before she actually makes an attempt to throw an axe, dressed in cutoffs and a flannel shirt a size too large, knotted off at the midriff. 

Maybe should’ve Googled that one pre-game, but, as her grandmother had always chided, Better to be overdressed than under, baby. Besides, a little black sundress was acceptable just about anywhere—the heels could be overdoing it, though. Down goes another bite of scotch, and she’s perfectly content to watch blondie and her backwards-ballcap date tiptoe around the goings-on of pre-sex, until movement to her left catches her attention. 

Pool tables racked with activity, there couldn’t be one more girlie in tight jeans or shorts leaning over green felt if the men had decided to make room. Each man at the table sports arm candy, some even two, full peacock with open chests and lifted chins. Stetsons, ballcaps, even a few beanies make a fine cocktail of male specimens, all bullshitting around ripped up pool tables and scuffed wooden floors. Beer bottles, pint glasses, liquor mottles here and there, hanging out on tables and pool table edges like trophies. Evidence of presence, of time spent. Side-eying the exchange of money isn’t difficult—they make a show of it, as if this is theatre. Shifts on her barstool as their jibes and shoulder-claps get a little more elevated, a little more colorful. 

Too absorbed in watching the flock of men around the pool table, she misses the slight creak of a barstool accepting weight to her right. Jumps a little when the air bristles beside her, signaling a new body—someone else at the bar, too close for comfort. Too close to be ignorant. Especially when there’s nobody at the bar, taking up air. Just her and her simple Monkey Shoulder, just her and the defeat that sinks her shoulders a little as realization hits. 

She doesn’t have to check if it’s a man—his presence is overwhelming, almost dizzying. Masculine and purposeful, but not in a way that sends shivers down her spine. A quiet kind of energy, like the air before a storm. Unmoving but oh so deliberate, ripe with power. As if any moment something may collapse in on itself, rip open the air—but chooses, instead, to prowl. Like a tower, overlooking, but not imposing. Temperature, too, has spiked—whoever has just parked beside her ripples with heat like an inferno, it’s nearly tangible against her skin. Thick cologne swirls, a delicious idea beneath her nose that smells like musk, pine. Sweat and smoke–exhaust. Bike, maybe. 

Unsure whether the flush lifting from her breastbone to her cheeks is the scotch or the newcomer, she uses her foot to swivel back around, leaning forward to rest her arms over the bar. Thin glass between her fingers rings a little as her nail tick, tick, ticks against it, and staring into the coppery swirl of booze allows her a little bit of a casual side-eye to the man who has parked himself at her now eleven o’clock. 

Hair the color of midnight is full and thick, almost tinges a bit of sapphire under the fluorescents that dare to flicker a little above them. Even beneath full mutton chops, she can see the sharp line of a jaw—strong nose, purposeful brow. A striking profile, as he stares at his hands—thick hands, strong. Massive, more paw than actual hands, if she were poetic about it. Calloused, even from here. A troop of ebony hair forests his arms, thick and wiry—does little to hide the absolutely godlike muscle that all but stands up and demands recognition.

Arms no less than small trees, her eyes zero in on his veins, veins that may as well have their own ZIP—if careful, she could watch his blood actually current. Count the flutter of his pulse—intrusive thoughts win. She would give limb, soul to just hook up him to an IV and drink of whatever raw sexuality God had poured into his form.  

It’s easy to take in the rest of him—thick chest, well muscled would be an insulting adjective. She wouldn’t believe, for a moment, there was a percentage of fat on his person, not the way his jeans clung to his thighs. Unaware they made belts so small for adults, she’d never seen a narrower waistline. And abdominals—God Himself had only crafted those, broke the mold. Even from beneath whatever sad excuse of a threadbare black v-neck he’d thrown on this morning, they were washboard. She’d bet her life. 

Oh my god, of all the men— 

And just as quickly as she’d ventured off into whatever pornography such a man conjures up into brainspace, he shifts a little. Situates himself on his barstool—sits back, hand on his thigh, other draped along the bar easily in that only-a-guy way. And her gut all but plummets into hell between her feet—the floor could be stained with her own blood and she wouldn’t have flinched. What’s-his-name commands every molecule between them, could split atoms with his raw sexuality, probably. Every movement is like living color, and she swears to God she can feel her ovaries kicking into overdrive. 

Eyes snapping back to her own feet, she rocks her heels back on the barstool’s rung, bottom lip rolling inward to consider just how flushed she felt. Heart hammering the marrow in her bones, she can all but taste the sweat that’s racing down the river of spine, dampening the delicate lace of her panties. Blinking, she manages a steady breath between her lips, trying not to think about the bite of scotch lingering on her breath. Aware that her hands are shaking, she knocks back the rest of the scotch. Cracks the glass back to the bar’s wood all too aggressively. 

Somehow the bartender materializes in front of her, like Houdini. Or maybe Satan—she hasn’t decided. 

“What’re you having again?” 

If it's even possible to forget, she isn't sure, but her eyes connect with his. Thankful for the distraction. Movement to her eleven o’clock signal fires in her brain—her partner at the bar has, without saying anything, entered this conversation. Or, at the very least, made himself aware. 

“Monkey Shoulder,” she brushes some curl behind her ear, “neat. Double it, please.” 

It’s too fast, too nervous to be genuine. But it is, and of its own volition, her spine straightens a little. As if such a thing is a sin—shoulders fall back, her gaze drops to her hands. Bartender all but plucking the glass from between her hands, he travels back down the bar—retrieves the bottle, which he has somehow managed to forget. She watches him go like a desperate child, all too aware that the man beside her’s eyes have raked down her form, considering. Up and down—her heart flies, almost out of her chest. 

A barstool creaks, and it isn’t hers. Oh god.  

There’s always that little something that strikes the air—he’s going to say something. Her eyes flutter closed, imaging his lips parting and closing off syllables and consonants, forming words. It’s a delicious little thought that quickly ventures into ratings not suitable for children, and she has to bite the inside pocket of her cheek to anchor her back into the reality of the bar—because she’s, very suddenly, not here. Not as present and accounted for as an unescorted woman drinking should be, God help her. 

Scotch appears before her almost fantastically. Reaching for it, the glass suddenly is heavier than the earth between her fingers as she knocks it back, entirely. In one sharp, flaming go. It spins her senses in a tilt, and the world all but flips—managing the glass back to the wood somehow, she anchors herself. Two hands on the edge of the bar, white knuckling for purchase. Eyes pinched so tight she can feel her mascara brushing against the sensitive skin beneath her eyes, she releases a low growl that’s more of a moan than anything. 

“Now there’s someth’n you don’t see everyday,” a dark, wolfish chuckle. “Don’t think I’ve seen a lady down two scotch’s back to back without breathin’ before.” 

Mother of God, it’s low. And dangerous. She wouldn’t have heard a nuclear explosion if it had detonated directly to her left, the immaculate conception had only ever been so beautiful. And if he’s tagged anything on to his statement she’s missed it, blood galloping through her ears at such a rate it should alert the Kentucky Derby to put her at the starting gate. 

A steel beam would’ve been preferable to the heat dropping into her spinal column, his chuckle rattling low in a way that, obviously, is deliberate. And she’s more bolt upright than she has ever recalled in her lifetime, soldiers would patent whatever form this was for their ranks—he shifts on his barstool to face her, and she’s suddenly Icy Hot all over. Simultaneously hot and cold, shivering and flaming—Antarctic air and Vesuvius smoke. Words lap her brain like a pace car, but none form in the back of her Sahara-cracked throat. 

Blanking, first she stares at the empty glass between her fingers. Then to the stranger, who’s arm rests along the bar like it was designed for him. Spider to the fly, the little smirk tugging up the corner of his lips gets lost in the dark hairs of his beard and chops, the swirl of shadow that chases light in his eyes like nightmares. All kinds of predator, she doesn’t miss his eyes flicking over her—it’s quick, practiced. You’d miss it if one wasn't looking, but nothing about this man could be ignored. He demanded to be seen, though she suspected by the cool smile and the dark clothes, he would’ve preferred to be anything but noticed. But such beauty demanded attention, otherwise heaven lied. 

Realizing the conversation is open, he’s waiting, she tracks his words. Again.

And again, and again. 

Swallowing the slight shake to her confidence, her eyes track back to the glass. Hone in on tracing her finger along the rim. And she ignores the souring, burning liquor in the chasm of her gut where the scotch has hit nothing but open air, maybe stones in the base of her that maybe only God could see. 

“Oh.” Oh? OH? Coma patients showed more promising signs of life. “Guess you’ve seen it all?”

Oh my god, ohmygod, OHMYGODDD—

She couldn’t have been any more pathetic if she’d melted into the floor at his feet. Channeling the tremble of thinking into her hands, she nudges the glass away. Pulls it back. Plays with it like an amused cat with a toy, trying to decide if it’s friend or foe—if it's worth the distraction. A flick of her eyes back to the stranger and she suddenly realizes this glass is the only tether she has to the present world beyond this conversation—her only confidence. The only thing giving her an edge. 

And should it be ripped from her, she’d be nothing but a fish out of water—a fat trout gasping for air. 

“Not quite,” whatever he’s drinking, he tosses it back without hesitation. Line of his jaw twitches as the liquor registers, but not in an unwelcome way. “Haven’t seen you before.” Vanishing down the long line of his throat without so much of a flinch, he savors it—his tongue chases whatever lingers in his facial hair. The sight of his tongue, flat and wide, sends her gut twisting into thick knots she can’t even fully describe—his hand moves to smooth over his mouth, as if he’s combing his goatee back into place. 

Without thinking, “Well, here I am,” slips past her lips, matching her arms that open at either of her sides, as if putting herself on display. It’s bolder and far more brash than she could ever credit herself with—Monkey Shoulder. It's booze.

He chuckles, pleasantly she thinks. “Here you are—lucky sonuva bitch, aren’ I?” 

And without warning, he gets up. 

Uncertain what surprises her first, she blinks at him a few times, fluttery lashes drinking in his presence on two feet—he’s short. Like, short short. Not-your-typical-guy-levels of short. Built like a god, maybe closer to a brick house, but he’s at least five inches closer to hell than she is—and she’s five foot eight. Makes up for it in presence, though—if he’d been any taller, people would jump under tables.

Alarmed by the sheer weight of him taking up space, the corner of her mouth lifts a little in a smile. If it’s a confidence killer she wouldn't know, he shifts his shoulders like any man does. Chin leveled with the floor, his eyes catch with the same fierce confidence of any man she’s ever witnessed. Unable to tear her eyes away, the muscle in his forearms twitch alive as he smoothly goes for his jacket, drapes it over an arm. 

Christ alive, he is—wow. 

God’s perfect design, she thinks—he knuckles his glass a little closer. Glass rakes across the bar in a little song, he swings a thick leg over the barstool directly next to hers. Nothing but air between them, now, he sinks low, and she enjoys watching him do so—how his jeans pull just so along thick thighs. How how chest flexes as he angles to drape his jacket along the bar, how thick fingers card through hair she could covet the rest of her living daylights. Closer, she can feel his heat, his masculinity ebbing like an alive river, trailblazing new paths. Looking for her, reading the moment. 

More like a predator than she realized first blush. Biting the corner of her lip, his gaze flicks over her a third time. She matches his effort. Much goes unsaid for a lot of moments, until he introduces himself—Logan. No other name would suit such a man, she thinks—within heartbeats her own name slips between them, between the lines of his popped brow and the question he asks next. 

“You drinkin’ alone, darlin’?” 

Nudging her empty away, Logan offers her a quicksilver look, hooded eyes and a cocked back expression that’s easy, collective. Nonplussed, like this is easy—like it isn’t rattling every bone in her body, taking inventory of every organ and cell raging like wildfire in her veins. Expectation brims, and she lifts a flirtatious shoulder, looking from his hand that lingers on the bar back to his eyes—and they are dark eyes, eyes that belong to only one kind of man. The type of man her daddy had warned her about, that daddy’s all over God’s creation sat up with shotguns over. 

Lovely, focused eyes. Logan knew exactly what he was doing. Few others were such masters. 

“Should I be?” 

Wrinkles that form along his eyes when he smiles are criminal. They belong, she thinks—he wouldn’t be right without them. “Would be worried if you were,” flashing two fingers at the bartender, his eyes move back to her, taking in the full scope of her features, “‘n my experience, pretty girls need someone t’stave off the wolves.” Chin lifted in the direction of the pool table trips her gaze to follow. 

He thinks I’m pretty—and that’s newsworthy, stop the presses. 

Nodding slowly, she fights back a smile. “Ah. I see,” angling to tuck a foot behind the other, her elbow props on the bar, chin in the heel of her palm, “and who’s to say you aren’t a wolf, Logan?”

A tease, of course, but the way his gaze snaps back to her so quickly, one would’ve assumed she’d reached out and slapped him. Darkness through his eyes briefly rustles alarm down her spine, and her hand gently moves to retrace the rim of a refreshed glass as silence crescendos between them. Her anchor, again. A tether to reality, to anywhere beyond the depth of the window's to his soul.  

Knocking back another sharp drink, he rolls a shoulder. “Not really a wolf,” his nose wrinkles a little as he shakes off the idea, eyes moving back to hold hers, “pack animals. Too much competition,” shrugging a shoulder, he chuckles, “besides—too short t’be a wolf, too close to hell. More like a—well, more like’a wolverine, I s’pose.” 

And that makes her giggle, like a child.

“Wait—a wolverine? Aren’t they weasels?” Her head cocks to the side, genuine curiosity wrinkling her nose—he smiles, quicksilver that’s cool, cuts down to parts of her she wouldn’t share elsewhere. Heat rises to her cheeks, deepening the makeup she’d been so deliberate to place earlier in the evening. “How is that better?”

Dissolving into giggles isn’t her style, not usually—but it’s too comedic a mental image to set aside. 

“Brought out that smile, didn’t it?”

Oh. 

She hums, nodding. Tries to hide the fluster of color sneaking up her breastbone to her cheeks. Fails.

“Charming, aren’t you?”

“It’s the scotch.” 

She laughs again, shaking her head. Turns back to the bar, too flushed and girlish to take him seriously—or the weight of his eyes. They bore into her side profile like drills, lapping up the heat on her face. Any second now he’ll come to his senses, she thinks. Conversation would fall flat, too embarrassed to speak and too innocent to flirt—he’d tire of the doe eyes.

They always did. 

Thunk thunk thunking axes hit home on targets far behind them, almost a world away.

She tracks, too sharply, like a desperate animal Logan getting up from his barstool—here it comes. Fishes his wallet from his back pocket. Withdraws more than enough money, actually more money than would be necessary for the entire night. Tosses it on the bar like it’s easy, like it means nothing.

Watching him, chin still in hand, he works into his jacket like guys always manage—in a sexier way than necessary. Pops the collar. He may be five inches closer to hell, but he takes up more space than God, sets fire to anything he’d dare to touch. 

Tossing back the rest of her scotch, she inhales a deep breath through her nose. Enough to swell her chest, pull her guts in tighter than she thought possible. Disappointment bleeds like a gunshot wound into her chest, mingling with her ribs, and she wills up cold courage. Hands on the bar spin her around on the barstool, lips parted for goodbyes—-

—only to be met with his hand, extended to her. 

“Wanna get outta here?” 

His brow lifts, investigative. Hers are nearly in her hairline, surprise shellshocked her face like broken plaster. Blinking at his hand, her stomach all but explodes when his finger crooks for her to come, to follow.

It’s a wanton gesture, the way his brow bobs teasingly. Corner of his mouth lifting in a way that’s devilish, almost sinful. Asking where to go is hardly necessary—she’d probably follow him into hell, if so persuaded.

Asks anyway. 

“Not sure yet, pretty—but, tell me. How d’ya feel about ridin' double?”

[expresso-bean]

(EXTRA) The Man Out of Time [A ShadAmy and Silver Story]: Answers

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Amy Rose

Description: It has been seven years of peace following the grueling war with Eggman and his army. Though it took time to rebuild what they have lost, life for the Freedom Fighters could not be better. Whether it's finding love or trying to run from their past, celebrating post-war times has been different for each of them.

All is well until a silver hedgehog comes knocking on Amy Rose's door to deliver the tragic news about an incredible force that seems to be the cause of the future's destruction.

Will anyone believe the mysterious hedgehog's cry for help? Or will he be left to fight for his future alone? Read to find out!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 13.3k

POV: Third Person

Context: Future!Silver's Timeline

!! I do not own any of the art/gifs/borders used in my chapters. All credits to the rightful owners !!

Masterlist ✦ Memories

'Mental M.S. Log Entry 4703: It's been SEVERAL days since the failure of Trail #13, and I'm starting to lose a bit of hope. Although I don't want to give up, I'm beginning to wonder...'

Silver set his empty glass of chocolate milk aside. The glass was still sticky with syrup since he didn't mix it all correctly. He stared it for a moment before continuing with his log entry.

'Aside from that, the side-effects from this trail are somehow worse than the other previous jumps. Could this be because of what happened?'

Silver held his stomach uncomfortably. He felt as if something inside of him would burst. It was normal after a time jump. Despite all the trials he has endured, he never gets used to the after-effects.

Brain fog, jitteriness, nausea, static-like body, fatigue.

The symptoms mostly meant he couldn't eat anything for the next 12 hours unless he wanted to get extremely ill. Liquids, mostly chocolate milk, would sustain him until tomorrow morning. He would be in the bathroom until the next day if he ate any solids.

'This isn't working. What if it never works? What if something worse happens? If I try again, and I can't find a way out, what will happen to me? More importantly, what will happen to this timeline?'

To say he was feeling defeated was an understatement. Silver was a complete mess. Trial #13 was supposed to be the breakthrough trial. However, a last-minute malfunction almost cost Silver his life.

What he saw left him slightly shaken, but he couldn't admit that. Not even to himself.

'What even was that place?'

'KNOCK. KNOCK'

"Son!? Have you returned already?"

'Oh! End Log Entry!'

Silver rushed to open the door, not even realizing he had locked it upon his return. Standing behind the door, ready to embrace Silver, was his father, Shadow.

"Father! I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had closed the doo-," Before Silver could finish his sentence, his father hugged him tightly. Silver melted slightly into his father's arms and whisper a quiet "hey."

"You're home," His father sighed with relief. He shakily pet Silver's quills and sighed before tugging him closer to him. It was difficult to rest his head anywhere since Silver was an inch or so taller than him. "I'm glad you made it back safe, my son."

He could hear the relief in his voice and the nervous shake in his touch. It was familiar to him. He did this each time Silver returned home safely from a trial.

"Wait," Silver pushed his father away to look at him for a second. His father smiled as big as he could and nodded for Silver to continue speaking. "how did you know I was here?"

"You left the chocolate syrup out."

"Oh."

Silver let go of his father to scratch the back of his neck. Then, he was able to get a good look at him.

His father hasn't changed much since he was little. The most was a couple of new scars on his body now and again. But he's always had the same two thick scars on his left shoulder and a thin, almost faded scar on his right eye that nearly left him blind if it weren't for Tail's astounding technology.

There were no new marks on his father. The only thing that stood out was his empty, tired eyes that forever had sadness embedded within them.

'Another hard battle no doubt,' Silver contemplated for a second, unsure of what to say next. 'If I don't say it now, I won't ever.'

"Father," Silver bit his lip, and Shadow looked at him, waiting for him to continue speaking. Silver was nervous, but if he didn't ask now, he would never get another chance to. "Do you still think this could work?"

"It has to. There's no other way."

Silver was taken aback by his father's bluntness. His words were so fast and cold, almost like they were rehearsed. Silver felt that his father was preparing for this question, and the fact he already had an answer ready to tell him bothered him slightly.

'Is this going to be like all those other questions? Where he gives me vague answers and refuses to tell me the whole truth? He expects me to risk my life for this cause, and still, he wants to keep secrets.'

"But-," Silver stopped himself. He knew what he wanted to say, but fear prevented him from uttering another word. Frustrated, he sighed and muttered a quiet "never mind" under his breath.

"No, don't say never mind," His father interjected. "What's troubling you? You can speak to me about anything, you know this."

"I know," Silver tried not to groan or seem ticked as he knew his father would see that as a sign of disrespect. He knew his father would pay extreme mind to him if he acted rudely. His father was always respectful to him, and even when he wasn't, he apologized and communicated what was bothering him. It was something that Silver had a hard time replicating. "but I'll be alright. I don't need to talk about it."

"It pains me that you don't trust me enough to tell me what's wrong." Shadow tried to look into Silver's amber eyes, but his son refused to look at him. "I will always be here for you. As your father, you ne-"

"I'm scared, okay!? I'm scared! You want me to risk my life and the fact you're still hiding things bothers me! You tell me to trust you, but you why won't you trust me, your own son!" Silver paused to take a breath. He didn't bother to look at his father's face as he attempted to collect himself again. "I didn't get to meet them, and I know that isn't my fault, but you have no right to keep so much from me."

"So-, Silver. You should have told me."

Silver couldn't respond. He only stared at his father silently. There was a deep sense of shame in what Silver had to say. He wanted to take the words back, to frame them differently. But he was sick of keeping it all in. There was no other option but to allow the emotions to burst out.

'How could I? You go through enough already. I don't need you to have to take on my emotional burdens when you still hold your fair share.'

"I'm going to go clear my head for a bit," Silver looked away from his father and darted towards his bedroom door. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

His father stood before him for a second, eying him into submission as his arms crossed over his pumped-out chest. Silver quickly got the message, lowered his body, and stepped back as a sign of respect. He could tell his father wasn't angry with him, but he didn't like that Silver was being emotional and not communicating why.

"We don't part ways while angry, son."

"I'm not angry, I'm overwhelmed!" Silver gritted his teeth, not wanting to cry or embarrass himself further. "I promise I'll tell you later, but I need some time to think, please."

His father looked reluctant at first but gave in and let Silver pass. He was timid as he brushed passed his father and entered the kitchen.

'I'll apologize later, but I need to know how to make this time watch work. If he really wants me to go and fix everything, I need to know how. And even more about this whole time thing.'

His father uttered nothing as Silver rushed out of the room and darted towards the door. Before leaving, he took the pair of black and red keys off the table.

A part of Silver wanted to leave without saying anything to his father. But that would again come off as disrespectful to him. He wanted to avoid as much conflict with his father as he could.

'Hm. I don't want to tell him where I'm going.'

Silver jiggled the keys in his hands as a signal that he would be leaving. His father stared at him blankly, waiting for Silver to say something to him. He sighed, nodded, and waved him off, permitting him to go wherever pleased.

"You may go, just be careful, and come back when you can. And please-"

"I know, father. I just need some time to myself."

Silver quickly gathered himself and left. Silver could feel his father's eyes on him and even caught the quiet "goodbye," his father sent his way when he walked out the door and shut it quietly to mask his emotional state.

Silver eyed his father's signature red and black motorcycle. He has only used it a handful of times, mostly because his father constantly uses it to get around. Not that he can't run, but his Uncle Tails modified it to be a stealth tool. It's completely silent while riding it and has a feature that allows you to blend the rider and the bike into the surrounding area.

'I need to make this quick. Knowing my father, he is probably waiting for me to get home.'

Silver hopped on the bike, adjusting his body and hands to fit the bike. The ignition softly roared at him, and after shifting the hand bar twice, he took off towards his uncle's old lab.

'I need to look for notes, blueprints, or a manual maybe. There must be something I'm not getting right. Why else is this not working?'

Luckily, the roads were empty, which was expected since there weren't many people around this area. People avoid this place like the plague. It was where the first attack was, after all. Silver couldn't blame anyone. He would want to get out of this area too. But his father refuses to leave. Everyone has their reasons; he only wishes to know why his father continues to live in a place where most of his friends are buried.

'I wonder what they were like... If it all goes well, I get to meet them, right?' Silver eyes widened a bit at the thought. His father had told him the plan thousands of times, but he still gets anxious about meeting her. 'I wonder what Mom will say. When she sees me. If anything, I'm more worried about what I will say. I have so much to ask her... and so little time to do all of it.'

Silver let out a shaky breath. He only knew his mother through the questions he would ask his father. But now he will get the chance to meet her. Really MEET her. He gets a bit overwhelmed whenever he thinks about it.

'I'm going to crash if I don't start paying attention to the road...'

There wasn't a single thought in Silver's mind when he pulled up to the old laboratory. A broken, decaying red plane was still parked in the driveway. The lab itself was still in good enough condition other than the door being slashed open.

'It looks like someone broke in. But then why would the plane still be there? There are plenty of valuable parts still on it even if it is a bit run down.'

Silver carefully hopped off the bike. He looked around the landscape of where he was at. There wasn't a soul in sight. Just miles of dirt and the ever-so-often tree.

'I should get inside. I don't want to call attention to myself.'

Upon opening the heavy and slashed door, a flood of memories came rushing back to him.

'So much happened here. I spend some of my best days here with Uncle Tails and Aunt Cream,' Silver pushed the bike inside and took the keys out and  shoved it into his pocket. Silver took a moment to look around for a second. 'I've only come back here a handful of times with my father, but I've never dared to come here alone. Not since that day. Still, it hasn't changed much.'

Silver didn't bother to look for a light switch. Tail's workshop had been abandoned for years. The natural light inside the lab was barely enough for Silver to see properly, but he was willing to work with what he was given.

'Where do I even begin?'

Silver squatted down near a metal desk and began rummaging through the drawers. There were folders upon folders of notes, but none related to the time device.

He continued to search on the desk and found nothing but tools he didn't know how to use and blueprints for devices that never got the chance to be made.

'This is interesting... but still not what I'm looking for.'

Silver got up and placed his left hand softly over his mouth.

"Uncle Tails, where'd you hide everything?"

Silver slowly got up and leaned against the cold, metal table. He let his right arm hang loose as he ruffled his brows to try and think of where more he could search.

'I don't know what I'm looking for,' Silver softly groaned in frustration. 'Uncle Tails... you were the only one who knew... why did you have to leave everyone so soon?'

'SNATCH!'

Silver shivered as the cool metal was ripped away from his wrist. Panicked, Silver swished his arms around into the open air around him but couldn't feel anything or anyone.

"Hey! What was that?" Silver looked around. There wasn't a single dim corner in the shed. He would have known if there was someone in there with him. "Give that back!"

"The time device."

A sultry, deep voice echoed through the workshop. Silver jumped a bit, freaked out by the mysterious voice. He looked around the room, and still, he couldn't see anyone in there with them.

"That means the stone was real," Silver couldn't recognize the voice. It ticked him off since his sense of control over the situation was at a minimum. "Where did you obtain this?"

"I'm not going to give out information like that to just anyone.  I don't even know who you are!"

Something  moved from the wall opposite him. It was faint, but he could barely make out the unstructured outline of a figure in the dim room. When the outline moved again, Silver stepped to try and get away from it. 

'What the? What is that?'

The outline glowed  purple and  covered the being's body and revealed... someone. Their skin was fuchsia with a peach body. Where a nose would be, there was a broken yellow horn, the same yellow as his barren eyes framed with black. He wasn't wearing much gear. Just some tattered purple and black shoes and white gloves with beige bandages wrapped at the end to keep them from slipping off.

'He's too small to be a rhino... and too big to be a beetle... what is he?'

Silver kept staring at the person in front of him, who had a hard time maintaining eye contact with him. Silver sensed a bit of fear from him, but he couldn't have any sympathy for someone who stole that precious device of his.

"Who are you?"

He stepped away from Silver for a second, carefully clutching the device in his hands. Silver put his hand out gently, and he noticed the man untensed his body, and although his nerves were calm, it wasn't enough to return the watch.

"My name is not important," The man spoke. "I would have remembered it if it was."

"Oh," Silver blurted out. He shook his head and then continued. "I'm sorry you can't remember."

'This is awkward. I want to help him, but I have to get the time to watch back.'

"You said 'he' earlier. Did you know my uncle Tails?"

The man tried to think, his forehead wrinkled while trying to recognize if the name rang any bells. He shook his head and looked at the watch closely before flipping it over. He took a second to read the lettering on the back. Still, even long after reading it, he stood still.

'What is he doing?'

He walked up to Silver and grabbed him by the wrist. He clipped the device back on.

"I know that name. That person is deceased. I do not remember him as you do, but I cannot take this. This is yours now."

'Mine? If uncle Tails isn't the 'he' this guy was talking about, then who is?'

"You never answered my question," The man looked at him, confused. Silver thought about each out touching his shoulder, but doing that might staler him, so he decided to smile at him softly. "Did you know my uncle Tails?"

"He was murdered. I feel like I should know who he is," The man gripped his head with a shaky hand. "But I do not."

"It's okay, um, let me see if this helps. His name was Tails. Tails the Fox? This was his lab and he liked to make gadgets and planes. Uh, he made a lot of devices, like this watch. He was friends with Sonic the Hedgehog and married Cream the Rabbit. Does that help at all?"

"Tails. Sonic. Cream," Silver looked at him, anticipating what he had to say. "There were several of you. But, no, they are not the ones I search for. He wasn't the one who proposed the idea of the Time Stone."

'He remembers several of them. That's progress! Who does he remember though?'

"You are different. You were not there when it happened." The man walked over to him and looked him up and down. Silver tensed when he gripped his waist and patted him down along his frame. His face turned hot and he tried to look away to hide his embarrassment. "No, you're too young. You could not have even been alive then."

"Y-yeah, I-I don't remember you either," Silver stepped away from him and cleared his throat. He took a breath to try and relax. He didn't want to embarrass himself further. "I-I wouldn't worry about it. I don't remember a lot of them either. But I know what group you are talking about, at least, I think I do."

"You do?"

"I think so? There were several groups, at least, according to my father,"

'I know their names. Rouge the Bat, Knuckles the Echidna, Sally Acorn, and Vector the Crocodile, but nothing about who they were or what they did in their life. Everyone kept me in the dark. And he doesn't remember either. We'll need to help each other if we want to reveal the truth.'

"You said you didn't remember Sonic, Cream, or Tails. Does Amy or Shadow ring a bell?"

The man's eyes practically lit up. Silver could tell he had recalled something.

"Shadow! I need to speak with Shadow!" He gripped Silver's shoulders,  scaring him a bit. "Do you know where I could find him?"

"You remember! That's great!" Silver smiled, happy he was able to make a bit more progress with the man. "Yeah, I know him. He's my father after all."

The man looked confused, at tilted his head.

"Father?" The man seemed surprised. Silver couldn't blame him. According to his aunt, Shadow wasn't known to be the 'lovers' type. "You're his son?"

"The one and only," Silver stepped away from the man and looked himself over, trying to find a feature that would relate to his father, but realized there was really nothing they physically had in common. "I don't look like either of my parents, so, I understand the confusion."

'I also wonder how black, red, and pink made silver...eh, maybe a relative on my mother's side.'

"But, you remember my father, correct?" Some hope fluttered in Silver's chest seeing the man nod his head. "My mother was also a great fighter, just like him. Her name was Amy, Amy rose. Do you remember her at all?"

Silver looked a bit hopeful. He longed to hear about his mother, to learn as much as he can about her. She lives through the stories of his family. He wants more of her memory; that's all he could ever ask for.

"Amy Rose," The man thought about it again. Silver felt that the name sounded familiar, but it seemed that the man couldn't come up with anything. "I'm sorry, I do not."

"It's okay, I don't either. I never really go to meet her."

"That must... be difficult."

"Sometimes."

Silver stretched out the word awkwardly, trying to mask the sadness. 'Difficult' was an understatement. Even if he wanted to get into how he felt, he wouldn't know where to begin. There are so many emotions, too many questions, and way too many thoughts that he could write a book about it. But even that wouldn't be enough. He'd run out of pages and ink.

"I can empathize with how you feel. Though I should know these names, it's as if I have never met them. It's a lonely feeling. I fault myself for not being able to understand."

The man tensed his fists until his arms were bulging from emotion. He looked panicked. Silver knew he had to do something before he had a panic attack. That or something worse.

"Hey, no, don't do that," Silver grabbed his hand in his and laid his other hand atop his. "None of this is your fault. You didn't ask to be this way."

The man didn't say anything. Silver could feel his blood warm through the gloves. It was the heat of humiliation.

'Should I ask him? Does he blame himself because he knows, or because he doesn't?'

"You don't happen to remember how you lost them, do you?"

The man looked down in shame. Silver's intuition was correct; he didn't know how he lost his memories.

"My mind is a puzzle I cannot fix. A piece appears every now and again, but I have no idea how to arrange it, or where it should even go, or if it is even real or not," The man scoffed at himself, probably frustrated with his own scattered mind. "I wonder if the memories are worth uncovering. Perhaps it is trying to protect me. But I supposed I'll never know."

'He looks sad...' Silver looked around the room for a bit. He understood the man more than ever. The man longs to remember, while Silver wishes to attain unspoken memories. There is something admirable about that. 'My father knows about him, he must know what happened.'

"If you want to remember," Silver nodded toward the man. "Then I'm going to help you get your memories back. You said you knew my father, right?"

"I believe so."

"If there is anyone who could help you, it's him. He knows... he knows a lot of things. He probably knows what happened to you," The man's mouth pursed. It was difficult to explain what the man may be thinking, but Silver could tell he was in pain. The mention of how he lost his memories makes him tense. His mind doesn't remember, but his body certainly does. "I would take you back to the house, but you don't fit on my bike. Just say here, I'll be back for you."

"He'll be here?"

"Yes, he'll be here. I promise."

"Okay," The man took a breath, almost as if he were worried about something and trying to reassure himself. "Just, come back. Even if it isn't with him."

"Hey," Silver placed an arm on his shoulder, ensuring eye contact. "I promise, I'll come back for you. No matter what."

"Mhm."

Silver nodded at him and let go of his hands. The man clutched his fists and backed away slightly.

"Just hang out here. And hide if you see them pass by,"

Silver could feel the fear in that man's soul. He didn't even have to say their names. He knew who they were. Everyone knew who they were.

'He knows about Ace and Anti. I wonder if that's how he lost his memories. He doesn't remember them, but he has to have fought alongside them if he remembers my father and time device.'

"I'm off. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The man didn't look back at him. He had the same expression as he did when he wanted to remember something but couldn't.

'"Please be careful. I need your help more than you know.'"

"I will, don't worry about me."

The man looked at Silver, confused.

"I-I did not speak?"

Silver simply blinked at him.

"Huh?"

The man looked away and waved him off. Silver blushed as he quickly left the garage with his bike in tow. He could tell the man didn't want him lingering around him anymore, and truthfully, he needed to get back to his father before he worried him more than he already has.

'He spoke to me. I swear I heard him,' Silver fished the keys out of his jacket pocket and hopped on the bike. The road in front of him was vast. Just as he expected it to be. 'I must be hearing things. Maybe I'm stressed, or crazy, or something... Ugh, what's crazy is that I'm hearing voices in my head.'

It wasn't the first time Silver had heard voices. When he was little, he could swear he heard his father talking. But whenever he asked about it, he would deny ever speaking. As he grows older, it is harder to ignore. He hears the voice clearly, like they are within his mind. But he never hears an echo or vibration in the area around him.

'Maybe I am crazy. Psychological stress maybe? I did grow up in a war zone. It wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.'

Silver began his journey back to his house. He picked up the pace a bit, going fast enough to not draw too much attention to himself. 

'Why would you come by the lab if you don't remember the person who lives there?' He tried to focus on the road, but a thought kept nagging him. 'He remembers my father, that's a given. But why the lab? Unless he was after the device and just hoped my father would be there.'

Silver bit his lip. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation. He sympathized with the man as he knows the struggle of wanting to connect with people he doesn't know. The man could have easily hurt him, or worse. Yet, he didn't. He seemed to have no mal intentions. He could have killed him from the beginning. He could have taken the time device and ran. He could have turned him in and sold him for profit.

'But he didn't. He's looking for my father for a reason, and I'm going to help him figure out why.'

Silver was quick to park the bike in front of his house. Still being careful enough so that it wouldn't fall or tip over. He ran up to the door and opened it, hoping to see his father waiting for him. Luckily, he was. He was resting at the table with his eyes closed, his arms crossed around his chest, and his head tilted backward.

"Father!"

His father jolted up and looked at Silver, who most likely looked like a sweaty maniac by now.

"Son, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, I'm okay, I'm fine, but needed to ask you something!"

Silver was so out of breath that he took a pause. He wanted to spill out his sentences as fast as he could, but his body didn't let him say everything he wanted to.

"Calm down, you're worrying me."

"No! I'm honestly okay!" Silver took one more breath before speaking again. "I need your help. I met someone, someone really cool, I think! He knows about Anti, Ace, the time device, EVERYTHING! I have a picture of him, do you think you can identify him?"

"I suppose? What did he look like?" Silver pressed a couple of buttons on his wristband, and an image of a mysterious fuchsia man appeared in a small projection above his wrist. He was glad he snuck in a scan of the man when he did. "Espio,"

'Espio. At least I can give him a name now. What does he have to do with me traveling through time?'

"I haven't seen Espio since I found the stone."

"You do know him! I knew it! You are the only person he seems to remember!" Silver laughed in relief and shut off the projection. "He's looking for you."

"He is?"

"Yes, and I want to know why."

His father looked somber while staring at the projection. The same look of guilt on his face when he talked about his deceased friends.

'Something happened. He knows why Espio can't remember things. Are you going to hide things from me, or are you going to tell me what happened?'

Silver took a seat down in front of his father. He followed suit and sat back down in the chair he was dozing off in minutes before.

"Espio the Chameleon. I've known him long before the war even started. He was an old friend of Sonic. He was truly a good man of his time. He was among the first to help us back when this war began. He was as smart as he was skilled," Shadow paused for a second. Which meant he was measuring the words he wanted to say. Meaning that he was looking to hide more information from Silver. "However, that made him a threat to Ace and Anti. You know what they like to do with people they deem threats."

'A chameleon, huh? That explains the horn.'

"A threat," Silver paused for a second. He's only known Espio for less than an hour, yet, he could tell he had a fighter's spirit in him. Silver couldn't even sense him back in the lab. And when he expressed distress over the Time Device, he gave it back with zero hesitation. He came back for a reason, a noble one, no doubt. But that doesn't explain why they would go after Espio specifically when there were other fighters like Sonic and his father. "What would Ace and Anti want with Espio? Is that why he can't remember anything?"

"You already know about Ace's abilities, and when they figured out how could manipulate hordes of people to fight her battles for her, Espio was her first target," Shadow took another pause. Silver wanted to roll his eyes. Was he trying to hide information again, or was it because it hurt to remember? Silver liked to think I was both, but unfortunately, his father would never tell him. "Extreme intelligence and strength were exactly what she needed to help her manage her army. She got into his mind and searched for his weakness. When it got down between letting the love of his life live or giving himself to Ace, he choose to sacrifice himself."

'Why did I expect anything less from Ace. Espio doesn't seems like the type of person to give himself up. What did she do to him?'

"Did those monsters kill them anyways?"

"No, Mighty is still alive. I lost track of him years ago."

'That's a first. Maybe she needed alive in case Espio got out of line.'

"Wait, so if Espio chose to give into them, how is he still alive? And how does he know about the time device?"

"Espio promised Mighty he would find him again. The one thing you should know about Espio is he puts honor above all else. He told Mighty he would find him again, but he needed to escape Ace and Anti if he wanted to do that."

"Hm," Silver was impressed. Not only did he endure Ace and Anti for years, he escaped, and then went on to keep living. Be it with no memories but alive, no doubt. "He's the luckiest, most unlucky, guy around."

"That poor soul," Shadow uncrossed his arms from his chest and relaxingly crossed them on the tabletop. He leaned his body forward, maintaining his posture as he did so. "Espio fought hard to gain his control back. Fighting against an old friend like him is complex. But even forcing my hand against him, it felt like fighting a cheap imitation."

"Do you think he still remembered you?"

"I would like to believe so. but no one can be sure. What I am certain of is how, through all of the battles and agony, he was determined to gain control over his mind. It could be why he was not fighting to his full potential."

'I knew it. That explains his reactions and how he remembers to fight and remain stealthy. His mind might have forgotten, but his body still remembers.'

"How long did he stay like that?"

"Years, too many years," Shadow sighed, looking down at the table. "It broke his mind. Completely shattered his psyche. When he regained some sense of control, he came looking for me, but by then, it was far too late. Tails was gone. He didn't know who he had lost, but he still grieved upon hearing the news,"

'He didn't remember who he was. If it eats at him now, I can't believe how he must have felt then.'

"Espio, most likely, doesn't remember it, but I certainly do. He knew he had a mission, but he will never know what it was."

'...He knew about the time stone. He only remembers my father. Could it be that it actually... Espio's idea?'

"Father," Silver paused. Did he really want to know the answer? Not that it would change anything; he was worried that his father wouldn't bother to tell him the answer. He never specifically said it was Tails' idea; it was mostly just assumed. But could it be that Espio figured out how to travel back in time, and Ace found out about it? Was that the real reason he was targeted? "Whose idea was it to travel back in time?"

Shadow seemed a bit taken aback by the question. Like physically taken aback. Silver didn't realize it was that serious of a question.

'Is he actually going to tell me something important?'

"Dr. Robotnik would talk about the time stone as many times as he talked about the chaos emeralds. He believed if he got his hand on that stone, he could bring back Maria,"

'It was his idea?! Why would he hide something like this from me?'

"I thought it was nothing but a myth of an insane man gripping at straws to escape his own grief. I called him a loon for searching for a stone that might not even be real," Shadow laughed bitterly at his words. Silver could sense the sadness in his father. He was undoubtedly going to talk about his mother next. "I understand him now more than ever. I too followed him and did whatever possible to bring back someone I loved dearly. The difference is I found the stone. I was prepared to bring back your mother, to fix this war. Even if it killed me,"

'But, what does Espio have to do with this?'

"Eventually, I confided in Tails to set the device up for me. He believed me to be too reckless to send me back. So, I had to make the choice to send someone else."

Then, it hit Silver. Clear as day, he knew why Espio was at the lab. There was no other reason.

"It was supposed to be him, wasn't it?" Silver asked slight annoyance in his voice. "You wanted him to do this, not me."

"I never wanted you to be a part of this, any of this," Shadow shook his head and leaned forward in his chair. "You were still an infant when I mentioned the time stone, and still a toddler when I found it. How was I supposed to send you off to fight for a future when you barely understood the world you were living in?"

"So that's it? I was nothing but a replacement to you?" Shadow looked offended and gave him a look to calm down. But Silver was feeling hurt, and he refused to keep his mouth shut any longer. "I thought YOU choose me. I thought I was special to you. But no, it turns out I was just the second choice. You expect me to risk never seeing you again for a job you NEVER wanted me to do?"

"That is not what I said, you know-"

"No! I don't know, DAD. You never want to tell me anything! It's always something. 'I can't tell you that Silver', 'You'll find out later Silver', 'You understand, right Silver?'. Well, no! I don't understand. Because you never want to explain ANYTHING to me."

"I tell you plenty! I say what I must to maintain order," Shadow sighed, hating the way his voice raised at Silver. But Silver kept staring at him in silence, waiting for him. "I did not want you to fight in this war. I never wanted this life for you. I chose Espio to protect you from all this. But now you are a part of it, I have to hide some things to preserve both the past and future. You need to respect that."

"The more you hide from me, the less I trust you! I would have known this if you had just told me! Now I look like an idiot because we don't communicate!" Silver felt a rush of heat form on his face. He didn't know how to phrase it, his words. They wanted to rush out and get the conversation over with. But he still had so much to say. He needed to preserve his dignity and stand up for his feelings without an apology. "What was the plan for me? To stand around in an empty wasteland forever without knowing about mom? Or what happened to her friends? To wait around and die? No, I'm not doing that! I'm going to help this future, and I don't care that you never wanted me to!"

"You listen to me. All of that is far from the truth and you know it. Tails wanted you to do this job. He designed the watch for you. He wanted to train you. He sacrificed EVERYTHING for you. I never want to hear you say that you were second fiddle. You were never that to him."

"I know what I was to him, I never doubt that Uncle Tails loved me dearly, almost like a son. But not to you. I was second choice to you," Silver eyes filled with hot tears. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Not in front of his father. And not at a moment like this. "I bet you never even wanted me."

"Silver, do not EVER say that I did not want you. I love you, I loved you even before I saw you. Your mother and you were my world, my pride, my love. That never changed when she passed away. You are my son. Mine alone. You are what I live for; the same goes for your mother."

"Why should I listen to you? I'm starting to think all of this lying is to protect yourself rather than me," Silver squinted his eyes, and he saw Shadow hesitate for a second, and it suddenly clicked for him. "This was to save her, right?"

"Silver, that isn-"

"That's why uncle Tails couldn't trust to send you back. You were too reckless to go back on your own."

"If all you are going to do is assume I will not participate in whatever conversation you think you are having with me."

"This wasn't about stopping them at all. You wanted to save her," Silver felt his eyes water. He looked over at his father. He hadn't noticed he had been crying. "What did Mom die from again?"

"I am done talking about this," Shadow stood up from his chair, making it squeak loudly. "Go to your room Silver. That is an order."

"Well, that's you. I for one am not done talking. I-"

Shadow slammed his hands on the table, demanding Silver's attention. Silver didn't flinch as his father's eyes glowed with anger. Rather, Silver squinted, letting his father know he wasn't scared of him.

"Go. To. Your. Room." Shadow's voice seethed with frustration. Silver didn't care. He wasn't scared of his father. He respected him, but Silver knew he wouldn't lay a hand on him. "Before I make you."

"I was just leaving."

Silver shoved his fists in his pocket, feeling around the empty space for the keys to the bike outside.

'I made a promise to Espio. I will go back to him. Although, my father is choosing not to join us. At least I can tell him what my father knows about him. I hope Espio will understand.'

"Silver, do not go outside this house!"

"Too bad!"

Silver slammed the door behind him. He heard nothing as he rushed to the bike. He quickly turned it on and took off without looking back. He just wanted to forget everything he said to his father. He doubted his father even cared about what he had to say.

'I am not going to let him play me for a fool like this! He wants to do all of this to get her back, not because of me,' Silver blinked away some of his tears. He didn't want to ride the bike with tears in his eyes. He's done that before and it didn't solve his problems. It left his eyes puffy, sore, and dry. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. 'What does that do to me? Does he love me for being me? Or because I am the last thing she left behind?'

"WOAH!"

'What the hell was that!' Silver squinted his eyes and focused on the figure in the mirror. His breath hitched. He knew that black and red frame anywhere. 'Is that-?'

"SILVER IF YOU DON'T PULL OVER RIGHT THIS INSTANCE I WILL-"

'He'll what? He wouldn't hurt me... right?'

"NO! I'M GOING TO TALK TO ESPIO!"

Silver yelled at the image of his father from the mirror, which was becoming a bit closer with each word he spoke. Silver could feel the heat of fear grow on his face. He knew what he was doing was wrong.

'I made a promise. I'm not going to hold off on it because of him!'

Silver turned the handle and placed the bike to maximum speed. He didn't have time to conceal the vehicle, not that it would do him any good anyway. His father was already hot on his trail.

"AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME."

Silver did a hard turn. In his mirror, he could still see his father trailing behind him. His eyes squinted from the harsh winds and he began to regret not putting on some glasses before his plan.

'I got to lose him. And fast,'

The longer stared at his father's figure, he almost gasped at what he noticed. His father was sporting his house slippers rather than his rocket shoes.

'Wait,' Silver looked toward the road ahead and rolled his shoulders back to relax. 'Although I'm impressed, I still might be able to lose him.'

"SILVER I-"

What Shadow was about to say was out of earshot. Silver slammed his foot on the gas. The way the tired ripped beneath the dirt road made him cringe. It was too loud for his liking, and a sense of dread warmed his body. He understood the risk he took, but the last he heard of Ace and Anti, they were far away from this part of the city.

'I'll add that to the list of things I'll be getting an earful for tonight.'

Silver slammed on the brakes next. He held onto the handles for dear life as the bike stopped. His bottom lifted off the seat briefly before he regained his balance.

"Eek!"

'I hope no one saw that. That was embarrassing.' Silver felt a sense of relief when he turned around and saw a vast field of nothing and no one. It wasn't to say his father was not on his way to get him, but that he still had a chance to make sure Espio knew he stuck to his promise. 'I'm done hiding how upset this makes me. I know what will happen once I fix everything. Before it ends, I want to know as much as I can.'

"Shadow?"

"No," Silver quickly closed the garage door behind him. Thought the lights didn't work, the afternoon sunlight lit up the room through the slashes in the door. "it's Silver again, remember?"

"Yes," He nodded. Silver noticed he was in sitting right in the same place he had left him, as if he hadn't  moved a muscle in the entire time he was gone. "you were just here, weren't you?"

"Sure was," Silver felt a sense of relief go to his face as he smiled. "So, I told my father about you!"

"Really?" 

"Yes, really!"

Silver nearly took a step back when Espio stood up. The chameleon breathed out an airy chuckle of relief. What surprised him the most was his smile. It was bright and soft as the sun hitting his face. He was so deep in his emotion he his hand to his cheek and clawed at the corner of his mouth. 

'I guess he couldn't believe it either. I don't blame him.' 

Silver's guilt didn't even let him crack a smirk. He was so nervous about his father bursting through the door at any moment he could only stand there in fear. 

'What will I even say to him? It isn't like he isn't coming.'

"What did he say about me?"

"So what I found out wa-"

'BANG! BANG! BANG!'

"I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE SILVER! OPEN THIS DOOR OR SO HELP ME I WILL BUST IT OPEN!"

"Is that Shadow?" Silver quietly nodded. "Is he... okay?"

"Nope," Silver turned around timidly. He could make out his father in between the slashed metal. Luck would have it that his father didn't notice Silver looking right at him. "but I don't want you to know what will happen if I don't open that door myself. You don't mind, do you?"

"I am not equipped for this."

Silver sighed, not knowing why he even asked. Espio hadn't seen Shadow in years. The last thing he would want to see from his long-time friend is his angry face because of a mistake his son did.

"Right," Silver exhaled sharply. He was so nervous he couldn't open the door himself. "I'll just get the door."

He reached out his hand and a blue mist illuminated around the door. He moved his hand up slightly, and the door followed suit, making a loud screech echo through the room. Shadow stood there with his arm crossed watching Silver with an unamused look on his face. Silver let go of the door and stepped aside as his father walked in to stand in front of him. He noticed as his father's chest rose and fell and wondered if it was from how angry he was or from being out of breath getting there. 

'Just say something. He isn't going to hurt you or anything.'

"F-father. Hi."

For how Shadow was yelling at him earlier, Silver expected him to scream at him from the moment he opened the door. Yet, he didn't. In actuality, Silver noticed his father was unusually calm.

'He's... quiet.'

Shadow was standing at the doorway in silence. His arms were crossed, and his eyes were shut forcibly, undoubtedly from all the pent-up emotion within him.

'Too quiet,' Silver started at his father, waiting for him to say something to him, anything at least. 'he's scaring me a bit.'

Silver noticed his father wasn't acting as he usually was when upset. His foot wasn't tapping, nor was he looking at Silver. Silver's shoulders tensed up slightly when he realized the position he had put himself in.

'Oh shit. He's livid.'

"Silver. I am very, very, VERY upset with you. And I will not yell at you in front of company. But I am sure you know what we will discuss later at home."

'There it is,' Silver held in a sigh. One part of him knew it was his own doing that his father was so upset. The other part, however, still blamed his father. 'If he had just talked to me more, none of this would have happened!'

"Yes, father, but before we do," Shadow looked unimpressed as he opened his eyes just to glare at Silver. "I stand by everything I said."

"Not now Silver," Shadow groaned as he turned around toward Espio. For a moment, he forgot the chameleon was witnessing the entire interaction between him and his father. He would have been embarrassed, but he was too busy looking at the reunion between the two. His heart melted at Espio's reaction when Shadow walked toward him. The way his eyes were widened Silver would have thought the other was looking at one of the world's wonders. "Espio. It's been some time."

"Shadow. I-I remember you," Espio looked Shadow in the eye before bowing to him like royalty. His father wasn't bluffing when he said Espio was a man of honor and respect. "I remember what I had to do."

"My old friend, you have nothing left to do," Shadow lifted Espio up and pulled him into a hug. Espio's body tensed up, but he soon sank in. Silver could tell Espio had forgotten what a hug felt like. And his father just reminded him how it felt like to be cared for. "You could rest easy now."

"Wait, that isn't right," Espio released himself from Shadow. "I...I had to complete the mission. It is what... I was meant to do. Was it not?"

"Not anymore," Shadow shook his head. He then looked toward Silver. He sighed. "Whatever mission you were to complete will be fulfilled by my son, Silver."

Espio looked at Silver long and hard. It was clear that he was analyzing the sixteen, almost seventeen-year-old. Silver paid no mind to it; he could always rely on his senses to tell him what Espio was feeling.

'You know, I'd rather not know what he thinks of me right now.'

"Shadow, are you positive? I understand that I know nothing of your son, yet, I wonder if he is capable of completing something like this?"

"Why'd you say it like it's a bad thing?" Silver mumbled, kicking a stray pebble to the other side of the room. 'I am more than capable of defending myself against him. I didn't know I was supposed to fight him with everything I had earlier.'

Shadow sighed and looked toward his son. Silver still refused to make eye contact with either of them. Shadow could tell his son was still fuming from the comments earlier.

"He has his faults and irrationalities, I admit that he had some maturing to do," Shadow tried to reach out for him, but Silver was too distracted to notice and accidentally stepped away. It made Shadow frown slightly, but he hoped everything could be cleared up after dinner. "But Silver is my son. He is capable of doing what he pleases with that mind of his."

"Both literally and figuratively."

Shadow gave Silver the side-eye, which wiped off the little smile on his face. Silver just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, again beginning to mumble angsty jargon under his breath.

"R-right, I believe in your judgment Shadow. I meant no disrespect to your son,"

'Sure,' Silver mocked in his head. 'I hope we get to train together so I can show you how I really fight.'

"I would never disrespect the person who promised me so much."

"Oh," Silver uncrossed his arms, and both men turned to look at him, wondering what else the silver-quilled hedgehog had to say. "Espio...."

"Yes?"

'I think it would be best for everyone, right? Just say it, I should just say it.'

"Come home with us."

Silver looked at his father, surprised at what he had said. It was exactly what he had been thinking and contemplating since he met the chameleon.

'Yes, this way I won't get yelled at by my father!'

"Home? With you?" Espio glanced at Shadow, who nodded at him. "Shadow, am I honored, but I am in no need of your assistance. I still have one mission left to complete before I could think of resting."

'Mission? Is that why he needed the time device?' Silver looked at his father's face. His eyes looked sad. 'No, it's something else. It seems personal. If he really needed the time device for it, he would have taken it and ran.'

"Espio," Shadow shook his head. "I have lost track of Mighty five years ago. If you are so instant on finding him, I will help you," Shadow looked behind him, signaling over to Silver, looking through some files on his wristlet. "Believe me, if you continue searching, you will only lose more of yourself."

Espio's pupils seem to shake at that statement. Silver could sense a deep anguish within him. Within them both.

'They're alike, aren't they? My dad and him. The only difference is...'

"You lost track of him..." Espio chest battered out an empty chuckle. His eyes pooled over with tears. A memory resurfaced. No one could tell what it was, but Silver felt content knowing that Espio had found a piece of himself again. "I-I remember now..."

"You remember?" Shadow visibly restrained himself from jumping on the man. He cleared his throat and mumbled a soft apology. "What is it that you remember?"

"It-It's not important to what we are trying to accomplish. Mighty was one of the most impatient people I knew. I should have known he would not wait around for me forever."

'He was supposed to stay. He said he would wait, that it could have been forever. How long has forever been?'

"Ow." Silver's whisper went unnoticed by Espio and his father. Though he was looking right at Espio, Silver didn't see his lips move at all. Yet, it was his voice clearly playing in his head. "What was that?"

'Mighty,' Silver never heard the name before. He most likely didn't fight in the war. His father would have mentioned him by now if he was. 'Whoever he was, he was important enough to Espio to look for my father. Time device aside. My father knows who he is.'

"He said he would wait for you forever, right?" Espio nodded and mumbled something under his breath. "Someone who loves you would wait forever."

Espio moved his hand toward his heart. Silver's words had greatly touched him, yet, Silver could still see his face scrunched up with hurt.

"I suppose so."

"We should get home," Shadow interrupted. "You must be starving if you came here all the way from the ruins in Mobotroplis."

"I came from the Temple."

The room went silent for a moment. Silver looked over to his father who had a frown on his face.

The Temple was something Silver knew so little about despite it being the reason he could time travel in the first place. His father rarely mentions the place, only bringing it up when talking about acquiring the stone. It wasn't surprising to Silver that he never elaborated on where the Temple was or what else could be inside.

'Whatever it is, that look he's giving Espio means that whatever was near that Temple is bad news.'

"The Temple? As in the one I found the stone from?"

"Is there...another one?"

"No, it's just, that's so far from here. What were you doing all the way out there for?"

"I was retracing my steps, trying to remember why I only remembered you so vividly,"

His father's face strained, and Espio kept his eyes fixed on that look. Silver could not bring himself to say anything. Not the look, not the temples, or how his father keeps his secrets even to his friends.

'It's strange.'

"It's strange."

'That's what I'm saying.'

"We...We'll discuss this later. Son, take him home. I'll meet you there."

"Yes, father."

"And Silver," Silver straightened his posture as his father approached him. Shadow pointed to the bike parked outside the lab. "If you know what's good for you, go straight home. Don't pull something like that with me again."

"Yes, I know."

"I forgot how off putting he makes others feel."

"Yep, that sounds like a memory I would have kept repressed," Silver looked to him to see if he'd even react. But there wasn't even anger in his stone-set face. Silver smiled awkwardly and began walking to his bike. Espio followed suit. "Sorry, bad time to be making jokes," Silver mounted the bike and adjusted the mirrors before turning it on. Silver looked at Espio and patted the back seat. "Just hold on tight. don't need you falling out."

Silver had to stop himself from shivering from how cold Espio was. His hands rested lightly on his shoulders. But before Silver could ask him to tighten his grip, he saw his father approaching them. He didn't even look at Silver; he grabbed Espio by the hands and adjusted his grip on Silver's shoulders.

"You have to grab on the right way, or you'll fall. Now, let's get going."

"Right," Espio answered meekly. Silver kept his gaze on the open road ahead of him, waiting for his father to take the lead before he even thought about moving.

Neither of the three spoke to the other, which was fine with Silver as he was so focused on not going. Silver was careful to try to match his father's speed. He was scared of what he might do to him if he did not follow him to a t.

"We're here," Silver whispered. He hated being the one to always break the silence. He turned around to look at Espio. The chameleon's eyes were doing circles with the way he was taking everything in.

'I wonder what that feeling is like. To take in everything as if you were seeing it for the very first time.'

"Do you remember this place?" Silver said a bit louder than before. Espio vision finally settled on him. He shook his head.

"For me, it is like looking at it for the very first time."

"I don't blame you for not recognizing it," a voice from behind bellowed. Silver sunk into himself a little bit as Shadow approached. He, too, was now standing in front of the house. His eyes made the same circles as Espio's did moments ago. "I don't. Not anymore. This is not the same home I created with her."

"With who?"

"With his mother," His father looked at the house a little longer. "Amy Rose."

Silver nearly gasped when he heard the name from his mouth. Shadow rarely addresses his mother by her full name. Not that he never mentioned her before this. Silver always heard 'your mother,' 'the love of my life,' 'Silver's mother.' She was always intertwined with one of them.

'When was the last time I heard him say her name? Has it really been that long?'

"Amy. Rose?" Espio looked at Silver. He stared at him like he was trying to complete a puzzle on his face, which was visible only to him. "Amy Rose." He repeated. "The pink hedgehog?"

"Yes, her, that name," Shadow tears his eyes away from the house to look at Espio. It was a dead-eyed stare. Silver almost felt a bit scared for Espio. The last time he saw that look on his father's face it didn't end well for the other party.

'It was the first time I saw him fight. That day in the anti-zone.'

"What do you know about that name?"

Espio didn't answer. His head dropped toward the ground and his eyes closed. Shadow kept staring at him with that look, his chest heaving more than before.

'He's trying to remember something. He feels like he should know, but he doesn't. I know what that's like.'

"Nothing," His eyes opened. He looked at Shadow and shook his head. "I don't know her from the past. But he mentioned that name to me. Even showed me a picture."

"I-I never showed him a picture?"

Shadow looked at  Espio, who was still looking confused as he stared between the two of them.

"Y-you didn't?" He whispered. "Did I..."

"Espio, you remembered!" Silver laughed out. "You do know her!"

"You both fought in the last battle in the war for the Quartz Emerald in the Seventh galaxy together. You both have so many memories together. I'm glad that she still lives through your memories," Shadow's voice was so low he almost didn't hear what he said. That was until he turned over to Silver. "What prompt you to ask him about your mother?"

Silver felt his face grow hot the longer his father stared at him. It might have been out of embarrassment. Truthfully, Silver was desperate to know anything he could about her. His aunt and uncles were gone. The only uncle he has around is Sonic. And the last time he mentioned her, he threw a glass of water at his face.

"I-I," Silver stumbled over all the thoughts in his head. They all screamed so loud. All longed to learn about her. "I wanted to see if he remembered her. I don't hear a lot about Mom from you."

"You never ask."

"You never seem in the mood to talk about her!"

"Silver," Shadow sighed out. He didn't sound angry. Not like before. Silver could tell his father was exhausted. A part of him felt guilty. The other part, however, felt like he wanted to push more.

"I'm just saying. You got to know her. We both lost her, but I only know of her through pictures on the wall. How is that fair?"

"Silver," He repeated, almost like a warning.

"What?"

"Get inside now."

Espio remained quiet as he followed Shadow up inside the house. Silver stayed outside, looking up at the house. He tsked, kicking the dirt underneath his foot so forcefully he thought it would get in his eyes.

There were so many emotions brewing up inside of his stomach. It wasn't like any post-mission nausea he had ever felt before.

'What did I even do? Why do I have to sit through another one of his lectures?'

"Silver! Get inside here, now!" Silver tensed up. He sighed, clenching his fists. He stomped up the two steps leading up to the front door. And closed it shut without even touching the knob. Shadow was standing at the kitchen table with his arms crossed and a fire in his eyes. "I'm going to get Espio situated. Do not move from this chair, do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I do," Silver mumbled out.

"I mean it, Silver. Do not get up." 

'Well, this is going to be a long night.'

Silver was so angry he wanted to kick the chair before him to pieces, but he knew that would only worsen his case. The emotions in his stomach kept getting stronger and stronger. He rested his arms over the area. It didn't feel like any stomachache he'd ever had.

'I swear, I'm going crazy,' Silver tapped his foot slowly against the floor, trying his best not to make too much noise or sound too annoyed. The last thing he wanted was to make the whole situation worse for himself. 

"Silver?"

Silver was so lost in his own thoughts he didn't even notice his father walk in.

"Yes?" He responded, trying to bite back his sour attitude as much as he could. Silver could see all over his father's face that he was doing a poor job at it.

"Son," Silver stared at his father as he sat in front of him. "Do you want to know why I am so upset?"

"Because I ran after Espio and parted ways upset with you?"

"That is one of the reasons," Shadow sighed out.

'What else could there be?'

"Moreso, I am upset you do not trust me."

"I do trust you." Silver retorted.

"Silver, I taught you better than to be dishonest with me. You do not trust me. If you trusted me, you would not have kept this from me."

"But-"

Shadow raised up his hand before Silver could give a reply. Silver jaw clenched.

"Truly, did you really think I am such a terrible father that I would risk the life of my only son to fix what happened?"

"I never said-!"

Shadow stood up from with such force the wooden chair he was sitting on flew back. The screeching and tumbling rattled the entire house and made Silver's breath hitch.

"I would do anything to trade places with you! I have risked everything and everyone to keep you safe! Yet still, I see the anger on your face whenever I have to hold my tongue so that the trials run their perfect course and we can give a chance at the future everyone deserves. Why, Silver?! Tell me why you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you, father." That's all Silver could muster to say while his throat grew warm and scratchy. If he said another word, his words would break, and his eyes would pool over with tears. He didn't deserve to cry. Not there in front of his father who was pouring his heart out with dry eyes and his voice stable and clear. He could even muster a couple of words without becoming a pathetic mess.

"Do you think I get gratification from lying to my son? Believe me, I don't! It breaks my heart to have to keep things from you. It tears my soul in two to know that one day, I will stop waking up to your face. But..." Shadow sighed, shaking his head. "What must be done will be done. We'll be happy in our other life. But for now, please, my son. Don't waste these moments we have together being angry at me."

"I'm..." Silver couldn't hold it any longer. A tear strayed down his cheek. "I'm sorry."

Shadow looked behind him and dragged his chair back to be right in front of his son. He wiped the tears off of his son's warm face. Silver's lip quivered as Shadow looked at him with his tired eyes. Those same old, ruby eyes that have been him like this since he was a little boy.

"I accept your apology," Shadow said softly. He caressed Silver's cheek as he continued to wipe the tears from his face just like he used to when he was a boy. "You should have told me, Silver. I assumed my son would trust me enough to tell me his fears."

"I'm starting to realize I should have done a lot of things differently," Silver laughed softly, his face still warm and wet from crying. His father took his hand and instead rested his arm on the table. "I really am sorry, dad."

"Silver," Silver looked towards his father from across the table. "Do you remember what I told you when you were young?"

"I think so?" Silver crossed his arms and began to think. His father had told him a lot of stories, mostly about the past he had before meeting his mother and before the first time he met his uncle Sonic. "Is this about your time with the doctor and his granddaughter?"

"Yes," Shadow's voice grew dark, and his eyes began to glow red. Silver could tell his father was deathly angry. "I detested that man with every fiber of my body. I could never understand how heartache and the fear of losing someone could destroy a person," Shadow shook his head. "Even when I lost Maria, I was able to come back to my senses."

'He never really talks about her. From the databases, she died from a government-initiated raid.'

"That was not the case when I lost your mother,"

'Mom...'

"Only then did I understand the man I hated. I never thought it was possible to lose her. And when I did, I went mad with grief. Sick with rage. The time stone was something Dr. Robotnik would speak of, all to reverse what happened."

"It never was the stop of the war, was it?" Silver began to remember when his father would cry alone in his room. Although he would see his father be strong around him and even stronger on the battlefield, he could not imagine all the pain he was going through because of his mother's death. "It was to get her back."

"I knew it." Silver whispered. His father looked rather ashamed of himself at that moment. Silver held back a gulp, too afraid to make any noise.

"It was selfish, yes, but I could not forgive myself for what happened to her. The simple thought of you growing up without her broke me apart like nothing ever has," Shadow's eyes began to tear up. He clenched his fist, not wanting to cry. Silver stared at his father, riddled with shame. He tried to comfort him, but his guilt prevented him from offering him a comforting touch. "I went mad trying to find the stone. To prevent the death of your mother and those of my dear friends. I proposed the idea to Tails. He was the one who explained to me my plan could not come to fruition."

"Well, yeah. What would be the point of stopping Mom from getting killed if the war is what killed her."

Shadow nodded in agreement.

"As I told you before, we were unprepared. We were at peace. No one had even bothered to pick up a weapon after the first war ended. That was our downfall."

"No one could have known," Silver reassured. "No one could have blamed you guys for wanting to retire after fight 'the war of all wars'."

"What is funny is your mother was the one person who never stopped fighting."

"She didn't?"

"No, not ever. She would say her strength was a gift, and because of that, it was her calling to use that strength to help those who could not help themselves."

Silver adored the way his father talked about his mother. Though melancholy, a light sparked in his eyes and a permanent smile appeared on his face at the mere mention of her. In these moments, Silver can glimpse into the past and see what his father used to be before the scourge.

'She sounds awesome.'

"Your mother could solve anything she puts her mind to. She'll be able to fix this mess we're in. Whatever threat comes, she'll stop it. You have to let her know that."

"I know," Silver muttered. He has heard the same speech hundreds of times. It tears him up inside that he will only see what his mother is capable of in another life that isn't even his.

"Son?" Shadow sighed and placed his hand atop his son's. "I have been too hard on you. For that, I owe you an apology."

"It's okay, dad. You do what you have to do, right?" Silver whispered.

"I am changing your mission."

"Huh? To what?"

"You are to stay in the past and help them win. You can spend time with them, meet them, and get to know all the things words will not be able to justify."

"Wait, really?" Silver stood up in surprise. Shadow nodded as his eyes shut, lost in thought.

"I write a list of everything there is to know about them. I hope that will make you happy."

'Stay with Mom and her friends?'

"Really? You're not joking?"

"You should know that jokes aren't my strong point."

"Thank you!" Silver  grabbed his fathers hand and brough him into a hug. His father's surprise chuckle rang through both of their bodies. "You have no idea how much this means to me, Dad."

"Anything for you, son."

Shadow patted Silver's head before letting him go. Shadow stares into Silver's eyes for a moment.

"You look just like her," Shadow whispered. A small smile on his face. "I can't wait for you to meet her, son. She will love you."

"I hope so."

"She will. I know it." Shadow reaffirmed with confidence.

Silver smiled sheepishly, not knowing what else to say. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. The talk he had wanted with his father had finally been had, and now he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Let's hope we didn't disturb Espio too much. He is still getting used to his room."

"Oh, I almost forgot about him. How is he doing?"

"Adjusting would be the best word," Shadow sighed out. "We should let him rest; he traveled miles to get here."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"His body was dumped out in a landfill about three years ago. It was then I learned that he had lost most of his memories. His mind was gone, but the body doesn't easily forget. He knew how to claw his way out of a dangerous situation."

"But he remembers you now. What happened in between those three years?"

Shadow shook his head. "I wish I could answer that. I don't know why I am the only one he can recall. I wasn't even the one closest to him."

"Hm," Silver hummed. "Memories work in weird ways."

"You both have met before this."

"Huh?" Silver blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You were still small, barely able to make out a babble. He held you in his arms and nearly cried when he saw you open your eyes. He said you reminded him of your mother. Mighty was there two. He made you those wooden toys you loved so much as a child."

"What? He did?!"

"He did," Shadow nodded. "I wish you both could have remembered all that."

"So do I," Silver got up from his chair. His legs were wobbly from all the nerves, so he steadied himself on the top rail of the chair. "Do you know if Uncle Sonic knows about Espio?"

"Of course he does. They were close before the war."

'I wonder what he'll say about him?'

"Before you go on saying anything, I wouldn't bother bringing it up to him. You know how he can be."

'Of course, I know how he is. I have to bring him his food. Not that Dad doesn't talk to him. I can hear them fighting through the walls.'

"But while you're there," Shadow stands up from his place at the table and makes his way to the food safe. It's a basket of assorted foods from the rations station. "Take this to him."

"How did-?"

"You think I wouldn't know my own son?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Silver grabbed the basket, taking in the scent of semi-stale bread and metal cans that stunk of dirty copper. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry. Again."

"You're okay, son. Remember how much I love you."

"Me too, Dad." 'I love you too.'

Silver took the basket off the table and walked to the door. He silently creaked it open and walked outside. The sight of a disheveled shed made him sigh.

Silver is usually the one to deliver him his dinner, but whenever he comes back from trial runs, it becomes harder to ignore his Uncle's annoyance with him as it becomes a fight of 'the trials are pointless' or 'how dare you leave your father in charge of my meals.'

'As if I have any control over what he and my father fight about when I'm not here.'

Silver knocked on the door first before pushing the heavy wooden door open. There was an audible groan coming from the shadowy lump curled on the bed. To Silver's surprise, the room smelled as if it had been freshly cleaned.

"You two will never let me starve to death, will you?"

Sonic was turned away from the door. All Silver could make out were faded, blue quills. Silver couldn't remember the last time he saw his uncle's face. It could have been months or even years. From all the years of Sonic yelling at him or giving him silent treatment, he has learned it is best not to visit his room often.

"Hey, Uncle Sonic. I'm sorry I haven't been around too much."

"Yes, I could tell. Look what your father came and did!"

'Cleaned?'

Silver heard him grunt from his bed. His body shook with the vibrations of his voice.

"I came to ask you something."

"Whatever it is, I don't know."

"It's about Espio."

There was a pause. Silver could not even hear his Uncle's breath. It was so deathly quiet.

"Espio?" He finally spoke. "What about Espio?"

"We found him. He's alive and staying with us."

"Oh? What, he wants to see me or something?" Sonic let out a low chuckle. Silver had never heard a laugh so devoid of emotion. "Tell him no thank you."

"No, he came looking for my father?"

"Shadow? Why would he want to look for Shadow? He despised the guy."

'Really? They seemed pretty friendly before. I wonder what changed.'

"He doesn't remember much, but he knows who my father is," "It got me thinking that, if he sees you, it might trigger some memories. It happened when he saw my father; maybe it can happen with you, too?"

"I don't think he'll want to see me like this," Sonic rolled over to look at Silver, who nearly gasped at looking at his face. The former hero's eyes were sunken deep in his skull, far deeper than his father's. He could see the thick outlines of battle scars that had begun to lose their pigment and texture. As Sonic frowned, Silver could see the wrinkles in the corner of his lips. Anyone could see that grief has aged him. "I wouldn't.''

"Please," Silver pleaded. "He needs to remember."

"Don't pull that with me, kid. It won't get you anywhere," His words were laced with a sadness the anger was trying to cover. Silver was sure his uncle had to know that he could look past it. Yet he still tries to keep up the facade. "Espio should be grateful he doesn't have to remember. Leave him like that, you'll do him a big favor."

"That's the thing. He wants his memories back," Sonic raised his brows, seemingly remembering the name. "I can't force you to see him, but at least tell me what you know about someone he's looking for?"

"Let me guess. This is about Mighty, isn't it?"

"How did you-?"

He's been trying to protect that guy for years, Of course he'd be looking for him," "Sonic tsked. "Just leave it be, kid, trust me."

"Please, I need to know everything you know about him."

"Ugh! Fine," Sonic hosted himself up and was now sitting upright. Silver stopped himself from gasping. It's been years since they had a conversation that warranted his Uncle to sit down like that. "but I'll only tell you this once so pay attention!"

'Woah, I didn't think it would be that easy!'

Silver looked to his wristlet and began to type something onto it. He looked up and waited for him to speak. His uncle looked back and rolled his eyes.

"He's an armadillo with black fur, a red shell-hair thing that goes down to his back, and black eyes. I met him way back before the four-year war. He used to be a part of a team with Charmy Bee, Vector the Crocodile, and Espio, which is probably why he's looking for him,"

'That's a bit of an over-explanation, at least I know what he looks like.'

"All I know about him is that he's a bit of a treehugger. He used to live up in the forest before this war, and the last time I knew anything about where he was, he was living up in Emerald Groves. When Espio was captured, he left everyone to look for someone named Ray. Probably a friend that Mighty hoped would help him get Espio back, but that isn't any of my business,"

'Ray? I've never heard of that name, not even from father. So who could that even be?'

"Look at a forest of something. Maybe he'll fall out of a tree."

"Thank you, Uncle Sonic. I'll bring it up with my father later."

"Whatever," Sonic grabbed a piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth while waving Silver to get out of his room. "Thanks for the food, kid."

"Anytime."

Silver rushed out of Sonic's room and made his way back into the house through the back door. His father was still sitting alone in the kitchen. A glass of fig wine sat in front of him. His attention drew towards Silver, who had a wide smile on his face.

"Dad! I know how to find Mighty."

"Shhh!" Shadow nearly lunged at him. "Someone is sleeping in here."

Silver tensed up and tried to keep his footsteps quiet as he approached his father. "Sorry!"

"What do you mean 'you know how to find him'?"

"Uncle Sonic told me."

"What did he tell you?" Shadow asked, confused.

"That he'll fall out of a tree!" The look of confusion only deepened. Silver smiled awkwardly, knowing how weird all of this must sound to him. "I know this all must sound weird, but I'm going to make this right. Dad, I'm going to get Mighty back."

"I lost track of him years back, but I know if anyone can find him, it's you," Silver stifled a chuckle as his father petted his head like he would always do when he was a child."Did you make him a promise or something?"

"No, but how else will I get the person who was able to one-up me so quickly to train me?"

"Always the clever one. You're her boy, alright."

'Mom...I can't wait to see you.'

[heartssatoru]

ignoring jjk men? I hardly see any of this request. Any characters just please have megumi in it🙏

Ignoring jjk men

Characters: Yuji, Megumi, Gojo, and Sukuna.

Warnings: nsfw for sukuna and gojo!! Afab

(My friend requested this <3)

yuji

Ignoring him is pure evil. This man will get so sad. Poor baby 🙁

He'll try to put on the act that he doesn't care and stuff but is crying the moment you keep ignoring him

No but actually, if you ignore him at class then he'll spam your phone with messages.

If you don't respond thats when he makes megumi text you for him.

Will get offended if you only respond to megumi, but he'll also get sad if you don't respond

He'll literally beg for you to respond just once.

Honestly even if its just for a little he'll just start whining and begging for your attention.

He would go through ALL your guys messages just to see if he did anything wrong

'Hey! Heyyy..! Stop ignoring me!! Hellooo? Last time I remembered I wasn't a ghost! Stop ignoring me..! What did I doo?'

Megumi

Will be confused for the most part. But he probably wouldn't even realize your ignoring him

And when he does realize he's still confused. Like why are you ignoring him?

okay yeah he didnt let you pet his divine dogs but so what?

He thinks your being dramatic. So he will put up with it.

Unless he can't stand it then yes he will let you pet them.

One touch.He doesn't see why you want to be cuddling with them. I mean he's right there is he not?

'Are you seriously ignoring me just because I didn't let you pet- okay. Fine. One small pet. Thats all your getting. Don't complain im being generous.'

Gojo

Oh ignoring him? Yeah right? He doesn't care! He'll still bug you!

Not to mention he will tease you. Especially if the cause is because he upset you.

Yeah he'll act hurt. But he takes it as a challage too. If thats how you want to play so be it.

If him surprising you with kisses and hugs then alright. He'll move onto something more extreme

But how far should he take it? If you do really ignore him for a whole day or more than do be prepared.

And don't be surprised if your laying on your back on his bed with your thighs being held apart by his tight grip.

He will eat you out no hesitation. Oh you wanted ignore him? He will overstimulate you.

Oh you came? Cute, but he's not stopping. Not until he's satisfied.

By the time he's done with you, you will be a mess. Legs shaky n everything

'Hmm? Is this too much? Oh but we just started!~ I'm not done with you. Stop trying to close your legs. We both know thats not happening.'

Sukuna

Oh ignoring this man? Goodluck too you! And I mean this quite seriously.

Haha your brave if you have the guts to do that

Ignoring him for fun to see what he does too? Yeah alright we'll see..

He'll clearly be offended. Because who are you to ignore the king of curses?

If he really wanted too, he could easily destroy you. So you should be thankful he hasn't! His mindset

Your just being childish. Thats what he's telling himself.

Keep going if you want this man to fuck you and not let you cum.

Seriously. He will fuck your brains out. And he will not let you cum, not until your there's tears in your pretty eyes, and your begging him to let you cum.

If you don't apologize to him then alright. I guess your not cumming, not until you apologize of course.

'Why don't you be a good girl and apologize for ignoring me hm? Maybe then ill let you cum. No? Thats too bad.'

[veritable-trash]

maybe it's never truly over

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader(nickname used but no descriptors!)

Summary: It's been a long time since you've seen each other. For you it hasn't been long enough but for Miguel things are a bit more complicated.

Word Count: 1K

Rating: E - for eventual smut, friends to enemies to friends to lovers i think??? this chapter is tame just seeing if people are interested in what i might decide to cook up <3 :)

A/N: alright alright alright like literally everyone i watched spiderverse and have now descended into the black hole of being obsessed with every character from that movie but this one right here????? yes yes i like him very much. anyways wrote this for fun think i might try another series and see what comes of it. this is not sticking to any canon(lol miguel would be PISSED but this is my multiverse bitch!) because there's such a depth to his character that i want to just play with in this story potentially.

anyways if you like this little intro and want to read more and see where these two little weirdos spin their way off to reblog, send me thirsty thoughts about this man, comment to your heart's content about how his body is shaped like a dorito and i want to eat HIM!

also @dameronscopilot wrote an absolute SPICED piece for Miguel so go read that now if anyone sees this!!!!!

enjoy :)))))))))

masterlist weeeeeeeee

~~~~~

There was something different about today. 

Air shimmering like it was about to crystallize and crack at any given moment. 

Like the world was gonna stop all of a sudden and dissolve into some weird cosmic puddle. 

But not for you. Never for you because even when things felt like they were about to snap, crackle, pop, your life tended to stay a bit boring. It had been a long, long time since you’d felt any kind of twinkle in your life, and you didn’t mind it. The last time things had fizzled like that you’d been left a bit shattered yourself. 

Even still, the niggle at the nape of your neck wouldn’t let up. even the sidewalk seemed to wobble under your feet as you traversed the packed streets of Nueva York. Your palms can’t help but start sweating, heart kicking up its pace as the people around you seem to crowd and crowd and crowd. 

Alley. You need to find an alley and fucking breath. 

You turn in fast on the tight corridor, the smell of garbage helping to clear the dizziness in your head but it still isn’t gone. The feelings still there. Why won’t it just fucking leave you-

“Lyla I got it. Just check the other dimensions and report back to me I haven’t seen any signs of them here.”

And now you know why this an entire day has been like walking through jelly.

Because the second Miguel O’Hara turns around and sees you, everything absolutely shatters.

It’s been years, maybe over a decade since he’s seen you, but you’ve seen plenty of him. The magazines, the news, online, every god damn street corner of this godforsaken city conveniently reminds you of this Dorito-shaped dip shit man. 

Nothing changes in his demeanor, to an unseasoned eye, but you remember Miguel from before. Gabe’s older brother Miguel, mama’s boy Miguel, your best friend Miguel, and his eyes can’t hide the things you know deep in his heart. 

You don’t even know what to say. There’s nothing left in your brain, just him, still staring, but now from new heights, with new scars, and it scares the shit out of you.

And pisses you the fuck off.

“So what? You go radio silent for over ten years and now you’re gonna stalk me in some alley like creep? Very on brand Miguel but I thought you would have fucking grown up by now.”

His shoulders tense and you can’t stop the way your lips curve as you sense you’ve gotten to him, even if only a little. But then he’s turning away, slowly walking down the alley towards the brick wall and you realize he’s not going to say anything to you. That he’s going to just leave again without a single fucking word.

“Miguel if you don’t turn the fuck around right now and say something to me I will beat the shit out of you I swear to god. I know your weak spots don’t make me fucking use it!”

(it’s just under his ribs, but only on the right side)

“Bichito, pleas-“

“Don’t you dare fucking call me that. Don’t you fucking dare. You lost the right to call me that when you disappeared on me. Fuck you Miguel, honestly I don’t even have anything left to say to you just fuck off.”

This time his face face does crumple just a little bit and you preen at his pain. Suck it into your lungs as the boy who trampled your heart finally gets a taste of how you bled. 

You turn back to the chaos of the street and throw yourself into the people, away from Miguel and all the bullshit, earth shattering happening behind you. It’s been a long time since you’ve needed Miguel O’Hara and it’ll be an even longer time before you come back around to his antics.

Probably never.

~~~~~

He fucked up. 

Miguel didn’t know how he’d dropped the ball this hard, but he’d fucked up big time and for once it didn’t involve some stupid fucking multiverse drama. 

It involved you. 

You, the girl from down the block who used to wrestle Gabriel and make flower crowns out of the flowers growing between the cracks in the concrete. 

You, the girl who stayed up till the sky started to turn pink again listening to him rant on and on about his shitty dad and his shitty life.

You, his Bichito, his little bug, his best friend, the center of what he thought was his tiny little universe so many years ago. 

But he’d left that behind. Thought that he could find something else, find something better, finally be happy in ways he’d never even dreamed of.

And look at where it had gotten him. 

He wasn’t ever supposed to run into you again. He was supposed to be vigilant, cautious, knew that running into you would derail him a thousand times over and he had bigger things to be focusing on. Multiverse-altering, dimension-destroying things to focus on.

Yet the universe had dropped you both in that alley and something deep in his chest rippled with feelings he couldn’t seem to find a word for. It was fucking terrifying and he wasn’t going to let it fester. 

He had things to do. Universes to fix. An ever growing mantle of responsibility hanging of his shoulders.

A constant reminder of his fuck ups and the reality that he wasn’t going to let himself slip up again. 

And yet as his claws carry him up and onto the rooftops of Nueva York, Miguel O’Hara has a terrifying suspicion that he may no longer be able to stay away. 

~~~~~

hehehehAHAHHAHA god i love this twisted little sad sack man who just wants to be all rough and tough. anyways haven't written in ages and this character has gotten me at least sorta interested in writing so i just wanted to throw this out there, get something moving, even if i go back into dormancy for another millenia.

well heart eyes for you guys and forehead kisses for anyone who reads i hope your day is a dream <33333333333

[batneko]

Here's an idea that's been rotating in my brain for a few days: Bowser on a leash.

Somebody's threatening the world again, and to get Bowser out of the way they capture him and chain him up, making him walk on a leash whenever they have to change locations. Bowser's furious of course, but he doesn't get a chance to break free before Mario and Co. show up and beat the boss that was left in charge of him.

Mario and Luigi are just barely too nice to make fun of him to his face (though it's a struggle), and set him free. Oddly, the leash doesn't want to come off. It must be magic. Bowser says he'll accompany them because he wants to utterly destroy the people responsible for humiliating him like this, but when the Mario party starts to leave Bowser doesn't follow.

After a minute they realize he can't. The leash is enchanted so that Bowser cannot move his legs unless someone is holding it.

Bowser refuses to let Mario be the one to hold it (if Peach is in the party she'd refuse because it's just too weird, and if there are any Toads they'd be too scared) so that leaves Luigi. He tries to make the best of it but Bowser isn't helping. He makes demands, he acts out, he won't cooperate. If Luigi asks him to do something he'll either ignore it or do it in the least efficient way possible.

It goes on like this for days, and it's also not helping that Bowser refuses to be seen in this situation so he won't go in to any towns. He and Luigi have to take the long way around while the others get to shop and rest and get information from locals.

It's on one of these side trips that Luigi finally snaps and says something about Bowser's behavior, and Bowser immediately turns on him and yells that Luigi has NO idea how it feels being stuck like this. How demeaning it is, how Bowser can't forget it even for a moment.

"I have to ask you permission to do anything!"

"You don't have to ASK, you can just tell me! I won't say no."

"But you could!"

"But I won't!"

"But you COULD!"

And Luigi notices that Bowser seems... not so much upset as... disappointed? Almost like he wanted Luigi to refuse him?

Like maybe all his uncooperative behavior the last few days was intentional and he's been waiting to be punished.

Oh. Oooooh. Okay Luigi didn't see this coming. And since Bowser actually doesn't seem like he understands why he's feeling this way, it would be wrong to take advantage of it.

So instead of punishing him for acting out, Luigi will praise him when he helps! A perfect plan!

Bowser's ego is huge but it's also fragile, and it doesn't take long before he's eager to get any sort of kind word from Luigi. By the time the rest of the party join them, only a day later, Luigi has Bowser (metaphorically but Bowser would definitely do it literally if properly incentivized) eating out of the palm his hand.

Too bad Luigi hasn't thought through what to do once they do find someone who can get the leash off. Making a guy with infamous attachment issues emotionally dependent on you miiiiiight backfire a little bit.

[calisources]

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄.

All sentences are taken from different books from Phillipa Gregory, specially her series about the historical fiction setting of the war of roses and the tudors era. Change names, locations, pronouns and nouns as you see fit for your own liking. Some of these have slight foul language or involve insuation of sexual situations. Please beware. This is part one.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

If it means something, take it to heart. If it means nothing, it's nothing. Let it go.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

At night I dream of him, all day I wait to see him, and when I do see him my heart turns over and I think I will faint with desire.

A man will always promise to do more than he can do to a woman he cannot understand.

I would know you anywhere for my true love. 

Whoever I was and whoever you were, I would know you at once for my true love.

When a woman thinks her husband is a fool, her marriage is over. 

The world hasn't changed that much; men still rule.

If you go on flirting with the king with those sickly little smiles, one of us Boleyns is going to scratch your eyes out

What a pair we shall be! What man can resist us?

You have to choose the best, every day, without compromise...guided by your own virtue and highest ambition.

I never thought it would end like this. I never thought he would leave me without saying goodbye.

But I don't forget and I don't forgive.

A woman has to change her nature if she is to be a wife.

To be a good wife is to be a woman with a will of iron that you yourself have forged into a bridle to curb your own abilities. 

But I am above these judgments, I am a Queen.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

I was born to be your rival.

Know your rights.

When they see us dance. When they see how you look at me. When they see how I smile at you.

I have learned the power of surviving.

I was a woman who was capable of passion and who had a great need and a great desire for love.

Good god what men can do to their brains when their cocks are hard.

They are a house which has to have blood, and they will shed their own if they have no other enemy.

I want to take you for pleasure, and hold you in my arms for desire.

 I want you to know that it is your kiss that I want, not another heir to the throne.

You can know that I love you, quite for yourself, when I come to your bed, and not as the York’s broodmare.

You think to bed me for love and not for children? Isn’t that sin?

I shall make sure that it feels richly sinful.

Some women attract desire. Others do not.

Every woman has to have something which singles her out, which catches the eyes, which makes her the center of attention.

If it has to be done at all, it must be done with grace.

She  was speaking out for the women of the country, for the good wives who should not be put aside just because their husbands had taken a fancy to another.

Because all books are forbidden when a country turns to terror.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you are a woman, and a courtier.

War does not answer war, war does not finish war. The only ending is peace.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Yes, but either way, shamed or not, I shall be Queen of England, and this is the last time you will sit in my presence.

I am not a yard of ribbon. I am not a leg of ham. I am not for sale to anyone.

We have to be more royal than royalty itself or nobody will believe us.

I betrayed as a daughter will betray her mother and yet, never stop loving her.

I am an object of beauty. He has never loved me as a woman.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust. 

And I wanted to give myself to him: not for advantage, but for desire.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for his touch.

It is luck to love someone who is free to love you in return.

Just decide that you are not going to be a fearful woman and when you come to something that makes you apprehensive, you face it and walk towards it

This was my destiny: to put my son on the throne of England.

This is a woman whose belly is filled with pride.

 She has been eating nothing but her own ambition for nearly thirty years.

Plainly, she is quite besotted by him,... a girl, a young girl, and she is falling in love for the first time in her life.

And – I think you know, don’t you? – that I love you, Anne.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

You don't need to struggle, your baby is coming.

You give birth, you don't force birth or besiege it. It's not a battle, it's an act of love. You give birth to your child and you can do it gently.

But young hearts mend easily.

Either you have me or not at all. Either you love me or not at all. Either I am all yours or I am nobody’s. I will have no half-measures with you.

Men die in battle; women die in childbirth.

 shall put a curse on their house that they will have no first born son to inherit. 

Have you ever wondered, Anne, in your untiring dance of seduction, whether you might not be dancing to Henry's tune instead of your own?

I am a Queen. It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

My honour and my pride are in my heart, and not in what the world says.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

But I warn you that a woman who seeks great power and wealth has to pay a great price.

Every woman is a mad ugly bad old witch somewhere in her heart.

My own mother told my lady governess that if the baby and I were in danger then they should save the baby.

She has a smile that grows slowly and then shines, like an angel’s smile.

Jane would be the next queen and her children, when she had them, would be the next princes or princesses.

I am mad for you.

You're not cursed daughter, you are the finest and rarest of all my children, the most beautiful, the most beloved.

One’s lover is one’s partner in observing and understanding the world.

Marriage is a place where joint narratives are composed. If the lover is a liar then all your joint observations are unreliable. 

If it was not in your interests to betray me then you would have been loyal.

I am marrying the finest man I have ever known.

You can have my glove, my favour.

Nobody gets to be Queen of England by being loveable. You will have to play your cards right.

Thomas More once told me: lion or king, never show fear or you are a dead man.

When I marry you, everything I have becomes yours.

[galactica7071]

the space jigen ramblings part 1

okay. you all know this guy, right

☝️that guy

his name's daisuke jigen. he's cool

but THIS guy👇

is ALSO named daisuke jigen. and he's the other jigen's great-great-grandson from this silly little (cancelled) spinoff series called lupin the 8th

I'm not anywhere near normal about him. tread carefully.

the family tree✨ (sort of)

present day daisuke jigen -> his daughter kyoko -> daisuke numba 2 -> his daughter akane -> daisuke numba 3

yeah yeah space jigen is the 5th (or maybe 6th? idk my various first and second-hand sources all switch between the two a bit) of his name in canon but canon doesn't exist so he's jigen the 3rd. haha get it. like lu-

daisuke was a well-liked name in this family I guess. the very wonderful and talented author203's work with jigen over on ao3 made me physically unable to imagine him with a son so bam!!💥 he had a daughter. and then jigen #2 had one too. and #3 will too but shhhh that's for later

I don't have any big ideas for what the intermediate generations look(ed) like yet (except kyoko being a redhead) but it'd be funny if jigen #2 looked nothing like og jigen and then #3 ended up being. literally exactly like him. genetics are weird as fuck so it could happen

thighs ❌ ass ❌ personality ✅

theres not much to space jigen in canon from what I can tell. if I had to make a comparison tho he's like cagliostro jigen (- me, who hasn't seen it yet), relatively chill with a heart of gold but kind of a gremlin too. but here's what I think makes him tick :)

he's japanese-italian and an earth-born

dad is a lunar soldier and mom is a biologist (this man got NONE of mama's brains though lmao)

space jigen is such a softie on the inside. so sentimental, so empathetic, and always looking out for those he cares about

really wishes he were a family man <3

5'10" king with the miyazaki-patented snatched waist

mom taught him how to shoot, surprisingly (or unsurprisingly. she is related to the daisuke jigen so)

knew lupin since they were kids. not because their parents introduced them or anything, but because they just so happened to be in the same class and immediately hit it off. these two losers only grew closer as they grew up together and then lupin was like "hey you wanna solve crimes together" and jigen was like "fuck it sure" yadda yadda time is a flat circle

definitely autistic and probably has adhd and is very undiagnosed (the adhd is me projecting)

possibly even more of a romantic than og jigen. he's bi + demisexual. yes, he has had many failed romances of his own except one but shhhh that doesn't matter yet, and no, he hasn't learned from any of his mistakes

kind of a selfish brat at times. if you go out to eat with him and order an appetizer, he WILL eat all the onion rings if no one stops him

he has a huuuuge sweet tooth. you thought the lollipops were an oral fixation? well they are but this guy is a sugar fiend. asks if he can have a bite of your dessert when he's already devoured his and licked the plate clean 20 seconds after getting his grubby hands on it, sugar fiend. do not tell him you have chocolate ice cream in the fridge when you have him over because it will be gone by tomorrow morning. yes, it has bitten him in the ass once or twice

complainmaxxing is his favorite pastime. and puzzles! theres always at least one 1000 piece jigsaw out somewhere in the arsene and co headquarters that he swears he's working on and that no one can put away because he "already spent so friggin' long on it" and he's "just been too busy to work on it" (jigen we haven't had a new case in weeks)

likes space westerns. romcoms are a guilty pleasure (don't let the guys find out)

has a soft spot for working group dogs. why? they're strong, loyal, and love unconditionally

ghosts freak him out. bro can't even play luigi's mansion with the lights off

firearms special interest got genetically transferred to him. but this is the future so he's into laser rifles and portal guns and shit. armed spacecraft too

taught lupin how to fight for realsies

where'd he learn to fight? dad made him do karate as a kid. he preferred practicing at the shooting range

banned from the local laser tag arena for being too good. shooting at each other out in the vacuum of space is funner anyway

stubborn just like his peepaw. he complains a lot but if it directly affects him he is eerily silent. toxic masculinity ftw‼️

I try to imagine him as being like og jigen but not as depressed/traumatized to try and fit in line with the ✨family friendliness✨ of viii, so he's a little more emotionally available and whatnot. look at those kind eyes. such a sweetie pie

[adascreativeroom]

BSDecember day 6

Sickness ; @bsdecember

[Cw: bad written, mentions of panic attacks. Not really sickness but honestly i see Dazai as being sick almost all the time during Dark Era. Not beta read]

Look, it’s not that Chuuya didn’t care enough to bother checking on Dazai earlier and see how he was feeling. It’s Dazai who has a stupid emotional barrier and can’t seem to catch the hint that Chuuya cares for his well being. The stupid mackerel has an immune system of an ant, he gets sick very often, but hell, how Chuuya hates his habit of hiding his sickness, and Chuuya hates even more the fact that Dazai does a good job pursuing said habit.

So don’t blame Chuuya for not noticing it earlier, ok?

He had seen some hints during their work day that Chuuya had taken as a blessing, though he’s not sure if he should call it that anymore. Dazai weren’t as annoying and most of the time he kept quiet. Of course this stupid bastard was hiding something.

- - - -

 The ginger woke up in the middle of the night in his and Dazais' shared hotel room. They had just finished an out of town mission earlier the day, and were now just resting and taking a break until a new mission showed up. initially Chuuya had gotten up to drink a cup of water, but he soon noticed the absence of certain suicidal freak on the other bed and the bathroom door closed with its lights on.

‘Better safe than sorry’. There was a high probability that Dazai was fine and just needed to go to the bathroom, but Chuuya already had some not great experiences with mackerel and his crises.

The mafioso knocked on the mathroom door. “Hey. Mackerel, you good?”

No response.

“Dazai? If you don’t respond I'm going to open the door.”

“chh.. chibi” could be heard from across the door, the voice so faint and weak that Chuuya with no doubt knew something was wrong. Opening the door, He was greeted with Dazai lying on the floor, eyes hazy and barely open.

“Shit. Dazai, what the hell happened?!” Chuuya quickly made his way and checked his partner's temperature with the back of his hand. He didn’t seem to have a fever.

“Threw up. Lost my balance. Don’t feel good.” Dazai answered, voice trembling.

Chuuya helped Dazai lean against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall. “You know, I lost count of how many times I've asked you to tell me when you feel sick,” He huffed. “Did you eat something you weren’t supposed to, again?” 

Dazai shook his head no. “Woke up feeling bad, I was fine earlier.”

Now, the ginger was aware of Dazai’s nightmares, so he understood what his partner meant. He’d probably woken up in the middle of a panic attack, and, Dazai being Dazai, probably hasn't been eating anything aside from canned crab. Chuuya didn’t notice the signs before because he was exhausted and sleeping heavily. “Alright… Do you feel better now, ‘zai?”

“I’d be feeling better if there wasn’t a snail trying to piss me off”

“You fucker. I’m trying to fucking help you!” Chuuya had to stop himself from punching stupid Dazai on his face. “Okay then. I’ll leave you alone if you want it so much.” He announced while getting up.

He didn’t really plan to leave, Dazai just can be really annoying when he wants to.

“No- wait. I… I didn’t mean-” The brunnet tried to backpedal. “Chibiii…”

Chuuya looked back, “What? I’m listening”

Dazai just pouted and looked at the ground, too embarrassed to actually admit what he wanted. “nothing, you can go”, he mumbled.

“Uh huh. Yes, you sound really believable right now.” The shorter reached out to help Dazai stand up, and the other collaborated. Dazai was still not feeling great. He had to hold on Chuuya’s arm for support while walking to the bed. “You still feeling nauseous?”

“kinda”

Chuuya let go of Dazai when they reached the bed. “I’m gonna make some tea for us”. Chamomile always put mackerel to sleep when he couldn’t naturally. This time wouldn't be different.

- - - -

Normally, Dazai was the brains and Chuuya did the punches. This time Chuuya could proudly admit he occupied the “brains” category. His partner made a face to try to avoid drinking the tea, but gave in and, as Chuuya predicted, was out as soon as his cup was put at the bedside table. 

Dazai laid down on his side next to Chuuya, who sat at the bed while still drinking in his own cup. Ever so gently, as if dealing with a stray cat, the ginger started carding through his partner’s messy brown hair. 

Chuuya hated this stupid mackerel, but god dammit, he couldn’t stop caring about him. Dazai carries a lot on his shoulders. If that dumbass needs a little comfort sometimes, Chuuya would not deprive him of it.

And he knows Dazai thinks the same way about him.

After some minutes both of them were dead asleep while holding eachother. Not that they would admit this, of couse.

[mermaidsirennikita]

I watched Pretty Woman when I was around 12. Which, first of all, my mom let me watch and read anything.

It pretty much encoded in my brain. It also played an important role in my fascination with older men with silver hair. And I love everything about it. I know it's problematic and stuff. But it's so good. Everything is perfect, casting, music, story, acting, cinematography. Romantic movies don't commit like this. I miss the beautiful, curly hair and the romantic ballads. It feels as if Hollywood is allergic to romance now.

I'm suffering from lack of good romantic movies. Please recommend some good movies.

If it makes you feel any better, I was probably younger than 12 when my mom like MADE me watch it with her lmao

And I agree so much with everything you have to say about it. Pretty Woman is, to me, the Iconique romance movie. It feels more like a romance novel, to me, than most movies. And it's sooooo sexy.

For other romantic movies, I'd recommend:

Brown Sugar (2002). This one is really fun because both of the protagonists make really bad choices sometimes! He marries the wrong person, she gets with the wrong person, it's friends to lovers the way it should be done (ie with a lot of angst). But you still root for them to get together! Also, Taye Diggs gives an absolutely perfect line delivery (like several) in this clip.

(We gonna celebrate--what? *clink clink* MY DIVOOOOOORCE!)

Always Be My Maybe (2019). Another example of friends to lovers done right, though it's really one of the things I love in books too, which is "childhood friends to strangers to lovers". So good. Also, the single best usage of a celebrating playing themselves ever with Keanu Reeves.

Imagine Me and You (2005). A sweet sapphic romcom with a bit of a moral quandary in the premise... A woman is walking down the aisle to her husband, looks over, sees florist Lena Headey, and understandably falls in love with florist Lena Headey. But like, she didn't even know she was bi, let alone that florist Lena Headey existed, so--what now? Cheesy in a very sweet way. Actually plays with infidelity in a manner that movies kinda don't as much at the moment (Brown Sugar does as well). Yet it remains heartwarming.

Faraway (2023). Nobody ever talks about this movie, even though it has so many things we always say we want—like a woman over 40 who isn't stick thin falling in love with a man over 40 who also doesn't have this insanely ripped body (and he remains hot, to be clear). In this one, a woman finds out her husband is PROBABLY cheating on her on the day of her mother's funeral. She also finds out that her mom had a secret house in Croatia! And when she goes to that house to get away from her family, there's Some Guy squatting there! And now she's kind of in a love triangle with Some Guy and a younger real estate developer who wants to buy the property...? It's delightful. I need to rewatch it.

Hit Man (2023 though let's be real it's a 2024 movie). Anyone who hasn't seen this yet--it's a romcom. It's a whole romcom. With sex in it. It's very funny, it made me attracted to Glen Powell against my will, he eats this girl out a kitchen island (and she thinks he's a hit man she almost hired to kill her husband). It's definitely got a touch of darkness, but everyone who suffers deserves to because they're like, abusive husbands and racist predatory cops. Hell yeah.

Amelie (2001). I'm sure everyone has seen Amelie by now, but if you haven't, watch Amelie. It's everything it's cracked up to be.

Argylle (2024). YEAH. YEAH. I'M PUTTING THIS ON HERE. Everyone shat all over Argylle, and I was like oh shit, what even is Argylle??? I don't wanna spoil too much, but did you know that Argylle pretty much ends on two people making out as they speed away from whimsical chaos??? Did you know that Argylle has like.. AN AMNESIA ROMANCE PLOT??? It's goofy as fuck and it is delightful.

Lisa Frankenstein (2024). Another recent one that is actually so romantic. And the monster uses a giant Hitachi magic wand on Lisa Frankenstein. Good for her.

The Through My Window trilogy I will always cite as Euroteen romance movie excellence. Like, the second movie is kinda rough, but the third makes up for it completely. It is soapy, it is ridiculous, it is EVERYTHING a good Wattpad movie should be except there's also like, an actual earnest heart to it. Ares is a king among men. Raquel is batshit insane but gets away with it because she is That Girl. I love it.

Anyway, this is far from a complete list, but try these for like, the heart feelings.

[witchhatproductions]

Witch Hat News #5 - In Sickness and in Health

by Tata Calthrop

This is an archived version of our microfiction newsletter! You can read along on our tumblr, or subscribe here.

Hey there! It's been a few months since you last heard from us, hasn't it? How have you been? I'll go first: I've been bad! Let's talk about creativity and mental health.

I don't speak much about my mental health publicly, but let me summarise it for you; I was a very happy teenager who plummeted into clinical depression at about age nineteen and never fully recovered, and it sucks.

That said, the consequence of this is that I've been in therapy for years and read dozens of books about psychology for both patients and professionals, so even if I'm depressed, I'm also wise as all hell.

(I suspect if I weren't depressed, I would probably be completely zen.)

I have an excellent relationship with my creative craft, and my evidence for this is that I am both alive and still actively creating things. A lot of people never learn to manage the balance.

Many of the artists and writers I meet are weighed down heavily by the burden of not being good enough. "I'm an artist, but I get so anxious that I only draw once every few months, and then usually throw it away," my friends will tell me, ashamed. "I'm not good at it."

"I'm not really a writer," say the people I meet on discord. "I have this idea for a story that I've had for years, and I've written down some small things, but not anything I can show anyone – I'm not good enough yet."

On the other end of the scale are the creatives who push themselves through constant burnout, who neglect eating and sleeping in order to create as fast and voraciously as possible. A "successful career" may be built on five hours of sleep a day and constant, haunting guilt about keeping up engagement and output.

I think it's very easy to hide in hard work. You can have terrible self-care and self-awareness and be falling apart in every area, but if you work hard, and succeed, you never need to feel guilty about the other stuff. 

You know who can create constantly, yet never get tired? Artists and writers who can spend hours every day effortlessly making things, while also being entirely present in their own lives? Children.

Human beings are born with the constant urge to be creative. It's pretty well-studied that imaginative play and brain development are directly linked in small children. It's in their nature to engage in make-believe.

Very few four-year-olds freeze in front of a blank piece of paper, because they know how terrible it feels to be bad at drawing and don't know where to begin with the idea they had without failing utterly. That's a particular madness we learn as we grow up.

I'm biased, but I firmly believe that playfulness is what makes us human. What we describe as "intelligence" in other animals is often correlated with their adaptability – their ability to conceptualise and understand things they've never experienced before, and maybe didn't even know were possible.

This, too, correlates with playfulness. Dolphins, crows, octopuses, and great apes – all very different animals – play games. Despite all having taken wildly different evolutionary paths to get there, they have all separately developed play.

To be human is to create. To imagine is to be human. So that's my way of not worrying about my creative output – whether I'm making enough, whether I'm good enough. I do not create art in order to sell it, or to gain praise for making it, although I would welcome it if either of those things started happening to me regularly.

My art does not need to be good, or valuable. It has the same value and function as the paintings I made at preschool when I was four; it is the byproduct of my humanity.

Let go of the idea of being a "good artist". Nobody is a good artist. The only thing any of us is really good at is being human, which tends to get in the way of the other stuff.

"How do I create more, without letting anxiety or laziness get in the way?"

I'm here again, writing my newsletter. How long until another mental health break knocks me flat again, I don't know. But right now, I feel motivated to put words to paper (or words to mailing list, as it were), and I'm going to follow that feeling until it's gone.

My advice to you is to do the same. Joy is a very precious gift; to enjoy creating something is divine. You are human, and that is enough. Put aside your doubts. Create ambitiously, stupidly, passionately, in any way you can, as long as you're having fun; and once you learn to have fun, the trick of learning how to create more and better is a very simple one. 

So, here: Three things that spoke to me about the subject of mental illness, death, and the arts. Let's drink to our good health, eh?

Recommendations

So Sad Today: Personal Essays by Melissa Broder. A series of devastating essays about illness, addiction, dysfunction, and brutal, intimate, visceral emotion. I have few words for this one. I found it indescribably powerful.

Sawbones have an excellent episode about personal mental health stories. This one's much easier to listen to, but it's still quite personal, as these things tend to be. It spoke to me as someone who, at the time, kept a lot of my issues completely secret.  

To The Moon by Freedbird Games: At the dying wish of a old man, two scientists must navigate and rewrite his memories of life. A short, funny video game, with very charming characters and hilarious jokes and – genuinely – one of the most sad and beautiful character dramas I've ever experienced in video game form. 

Your project here. Do you make art of any kind - visual, written, performed? Are you starting a project or recruiting co-creators? We want to hear from you! Email us at contact@witchhatproductions.com.

That's it from me. I'll see you on the flip side, however far away that is. I'm not giving up! And neither should you!

[jmdbjk]

Good morning! Pt. 2

I forgot to mention that it started to pour down rain (hence Rainy Day Fight) whenever JK was out there lost in the streets and I’m sure that added to his stress because he didn’t know how to get back to the dorm. Thundering, lightning, who knows... wind maybe... some outside force got upset at JK in that moment. The Universe seemed to step in and pour a bucket of water on a young JK's head to get his attention... it worked.

Continuing...

So he's scrolling through a million cooking videos and then all of a sudden "Lee Mujin Service April Fools Day Special" comes up?

I can't be the only one who is giving that the big ol' side eye... amongst all the food/cooking videos THAT one shows up? Riiiight...

He says he hasn't seen it... riiiiight.... whatever you say Kookie.

Curiously... the translation subtitle says he said "Jimin!" but that's not what he said. I don't know what he said but it wasn't Jimin.

He fast forwards a little and then this:

Hahahahaha! Yep, I bet you've heard enough about Face album to last you a while. That project tied up your Jiminie for most of the past year and had you sitting in your living room-cave drinking beer and eating gobs of fried chicken in front of Netflix all winter long singing to your giant tv and keeping the neighbors awake.

But that doesn't stop Kook from obviously loving Like Crazy...

[we're sorry we're experiencing technical difficulties with the video, please standby]

He couldn't think of Bosa Nova for the genre.

The mimicking was 💀 ... I died. I can see Jimin practicing some mock interviews with him. That seems very much like something Jimin would do. JK loves his Jimin. That's all there is to it.

Then he sang along with Lee Mujin on "Butterfly" and "Traffic Light" where he unleashed some killer ad libs. He proceeded to play air drums.

When he was done with that he scrolled some more and commented there are only cooking shows... I swear ... how did the Lee Mujin show just appear amongst all the cooking shows Kookie?? hmmmmm????

He has watched it before, that's how, it was in his history.

I have to tell you... I will admit, my mind lives in the gutter... please get that stick out from between your legs and ESPECIALLY STOP rubbing the knob at the end of it!!!

You can't tell me he doesn't know what we say on here about him. He lurks in the rabbit hole...I just know it.

Finds this specific thing and then proceeds to sing along with himself... if the neighbors managed to keep sleeping through the drumming on the furniture jam session, they surely woke up when he started to belt out Airplane Pt. 2.

But he couldn't remember the lyrics to Save Me...

When the Best of Me verse came up where he and Jimin do the switchy-switchy back and forth choreo he couldn't help himself... he had to couch dance... and it turned out to be a loop hahahahaha!

Then he belted out Wasurenai by Tanaka. The neighbors probably have given up on sleeping in by now. It's a workday anyway. Get your ass out of bed.

[the toes...] I'm not a foot person but I would give him a foot rub.

That's because you are interrupting your body's involuntary intake and exhalation of oxygen. It is theorized that the brain triggers yawns to keep you alert. I know everyone needed to know that. Don't look at my brain, its scary in there. Moving on...

And then he swapped hats and launched into a 5 minute impression of G-Dragon... I don't know anything about G-Dragon except he was in BigBang with Taeyang. I did see him arriving at Incheon one time and he was wearing the shortest shorts I've ever seen a man wear in public these days. They were like booty shorts... He did not make eye contact with anyone, as if he wished he was somewhere else. Came across as a typical western rapper... full of attitude and not gratitude. That's my impression of who G-Dragon is. Anyway. This:

Paint me clueless because I have no idea what just happened.

Ok, let me take a step away for a second and speak about something: Jungkook just parodied G-Dragon. He was mimicking Jimin earlier... ALL IN FUN. The theory is, when you mimic others, you subconsciously create a bond with those individuals. If you dislike someone, your subconscious will dampen any desire to do that. Psychology is fascinating isn't it?

I've seen some trying to weaponize these instances during this live. Jungkook mimics and copies because these are people he enjoys, not people he hates. There is not a malicious bone in JK's body. Just a lot of bones and cartilages that sound like bubble wrap being stepped on when he cracks them. Again moving on...

He stopped on Kurzgesagt, a Youtube channel that creates animated videos on a variety of topics that are informational and enlightening. Kookie loves the aesthetics of the channel.

He spends the next 10 minutes searching for something to watch while his brain tries to wind down and tell him its time to sleep. He subconsciously starts humming Like Crazy again and then finds a Jay Park song. I am thinking a collab is coming even though most of us could do without Jay Park. Obviously, Jungkook has a thing for him so I will remain open minded about any song should one be released. JK's vocals will elevate it to the stratosphere regardless.

I remember the pushback when we learned about Jimin's collab with Taeyang. And it turned out to be a great song and speaking for myself, I found Taeyang to be a decent and likable human. Why I ever doubted the kind of person Jimin would admire, I have no idea.

Displaying his prowess of composing songs on the spot:

The entire live was classic Jungkook. He will talk about almost anything and share a wide-ranging amount of TMI. Even now, he shows us how open he is about so much. He covered so many random things but mostly talked about his three favorite things: working out/body care, cooking and Jimin.

And Jimin and Jungkook...they are still the same as they've always been, always and forever since the rainy day fight up until now.

He finally decided to "rest a bit" before heading out and bid us farewell.

Apobangpo Kookie! I hope we get to see you soon again!

More thoughts as I sit here thinking about Jungkook and Jimin through the years... it shouldn't be taken lightly how much influence Jimin has had on Jungkook. And to think of their dynamic over the years, watching the way they look at each other and speak to each other has evolved. It is rare to be able to observe such a thing happen between two people in real life. The way they both light up when they see the other's presence... lately we've seen it during these lives... they both beam with joy at each other... it's an amazing thing.

(FYI: My gifs and video prevented this post from showing up on the tumblr feed so there are screenshots for now.)

[ask--eggman]

Rumor has it that tails is talking smack about you online. Saying your machines look stupid , your networks are easy to hack and that you should lay off the eggdogs and Eggcorn 👀

Hoho, how cute and pathetic. You know what? He can run his mouth about my machines and networks as much as he wants, my machines speak for themselves. I've created many that are far more notable, iconic and powerful than anything he's ever made! I mean, can you even name anything of his compared to my superior machines? Exactly. Same goes for the rest of my tech, he hasn't created any network as impressive as the vast expansive Eggnet, which only improves in security the more the little twerp hacks into it.

But taking a shot at me for my diet too, how dare he insinuate that I shouldn't get my necessary nutrition and calorie intake! Everyone knows it's important for me to eat well to maintain my perfect iconic figure and fuel my genius brain. The plentiful platefuls of Egg Dogs and big bowls of Poppin' Eggcorn contribute to both and are very important! In fact, I'm going to ask my robots for an extra plate of Egg Dogs just because he said that. I haven't put on that much weight recently, I mean I haven't at all. I've just been maintaining my current shape.

Some nerve he has criticizing my size when he's looking a little chubby himself. I mean I get it, like I said, our brains require a lot of good fuel. And maybe it's puppy fat and he'll grow out of it but there's always a chance that he could be just like me one day. But two can play at that game if he's going to shame me for it. I have a name to live up to! But in Tails' case, if he gets too heavy he might struggle to lift his body off the ground when he tries to fly with his namesakes, so he won't live up so well to his own anymore if he isn't careful, hoho.

ORBOT! Tell the chef bots to whip up another batch of Egg Dogs on the double! And don't let Cubot serve them to me when they're done because I don't want the klutz dropping them again.