#but the way his belt is shaped now puts more emphasis on the buckle. and to me the buckle lools like two conjoined rings

[golden-stag]

Venoms GGST design has been on my mind lately...

I don't know if I'll be able to explain this properly, but I've said before that I really like how open and relaxed his new outfit looks. But recently I've been looking closer and it looks a lot more... Romantic?

Venoms new outfit looks like something you'd wear to a date or a wedding... much to think about...

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Sever (Ch6)

AO3

“Mind ye’ve got that meeting this afternoon?” Ian reminded him for the thousandth time as they all sat at the breakfast table and Jamie fought the urge not to roll his eyes, already mildly annoyed at the fact that his bowl of porridge wasn’t quite right. He should’ve made it himself without backing down when Jenny had insisted on doing it for him, that way it would’ve been thick enough to plaster a wall with, just how he liked it. But his sister would never surrender the spurtle, working it through the oats and milk until they became creamy and setting a large bowl of sugar on the table, much to Jamie’s distaste. Thick enough to clart a wall and with enough salt to make your eyes water, that was exactly how he’d had it since he was a bairn, their mother taking hers in the same way. Only Jenny and their father had preferred that their breakfast be covered in sugar and the sweetness of the Scottish strawberries that grew wild on Lallybroch estate.

“Aye, I ken fine well enough,” Jamie grunted without turning his eyes towards Ian who was trying to encourage a spoonful into Wee Ian’s mouth. “Whit was the name of the estate again?”

“’Tis the only estate in Tomich but did I no’ tell ye? He’s changed the meeting to the golf club.”

It had been his idea to begin with but now Jamie was uncertain about how their drunken plan was taking shape. After one too many whiskies of a night, he and Ian had been sprawled in front of the fire as they chastised the blend that they were imbibing, arrogantly announcing that the two of them could do much better. Jamie hadn’t thought anything of it as he’d stumbled to his bed and let sleep take him but a few days later he found himself mending a fence post in the back field as Ian continued his musing about Broch Mordha putting its stamp on the world as a new destination for a premier whisky distillery and the two of them, its innovative creators.

Jamie grunted as he rose to his feet and deposited his bowl into the deep sink, letting the tap run to soak the dish and refusing to turn his body to take in the picture perfect family scene that was sat at the kitchen table.

“Mr Dunsany—“

“He’s a Lord, is he no’?”

“Is there a reason yer being a particularly crabbit arse this morning, brother?” Jenny’s voice was dripping with irritation, not wanting her nice family breakfast to be ruined by the interminable grey cloud that had been brewing over Jamie’s head for the past few weeks.

“Jen, leave him be.”

“I will not. He’s been a moanin’ greetin’ face since he came back from that bloody reunion and ’tis hell time he snapped out of it,” she said a little louder to ensure that Jamie heard the emphasis that she placed on the insult as it flew from her mouth.

This caused him to turn on his heel and level his sister with a careful eye.

“I’m sorry, Janet, but sometimes I think ye forget that there is a world outside of Lallybroch. Life can be a damn sight more complicated than poppin’ out weans and tending tae chickens, ye ken.”

If her temper didn’t hit the roof, her eyebrows certainly made a good go of it. Silently, her fingers curled tightly around the spoon, stilling herself against the pull of Wee Ian’s chubby little hand that was fisted in the material of her shirt, demanding attention.

“I ken that fine well, James. But ye canna jus’ come home every time ye see her and sulk like a wee bairn that doesna get what he wants. Grow up a wee bit, aye?”

At the end of her parting shot, Jamie felt the anger licking at the sides of his throat. The rage that he’d been directing towards himself was now begging to be let loose on someone else, someone that would bite back and Christ, Jenny would do just that. It had been this way since he’d come home, the frustration melting into a sullenness that had punctured the idyllic bubble that the family lived in at Lallybroch. In his worst thoughts, he resented both his sister and his best friend and the happiness that they shared. Jamie loved them to their bones, of course he did, but after leaving Oxford with yet another memory of how he’d let Claire slip through his fingers, the last thing he wanted to see was the very evident love between Jenny and Ian and their three children.

And so he found himself, in a suit that was a bit tight across his shoulders but he’d purchased anyway in a department store on the Inverness High Street, shaking hands with Lord William Dunsany in the bar of a golf club that he’d never seen fit to frequent himself. Jamie tried his hardest not to let the glances from the club members get to him as they walked around the lounge with an understated belonging the he’d never feel himself. He made sure that he gave a strong handshake, looking the shorter man straight in the eye and made the informed decision to swap from his usual Scots to his best Received Pronunciation, assuming that Lord Dunsany was one of those people who claimed to be a ’Scotchman’ but was as English as they come with the age old story of inheriting Scottish land as a birthright. Jamie had realised, however, that the man certainly knew his whisky and would make a not-half-bad business partner with himself and Ian if he managed to convince him to part with some cash.

Jamie was fuzzy on the details of how’d they’d come to the agreement but two hours and four whiskies later, he found himself once more shaking hands with Dunsany. The Lord would foot the seed money in exchange for a fairly sizeable but not unfair amount of the business and as a personal favour, Jamie would escort his eldest daughter around Edinburgh the following evening.

“She’s up here with me to get away from some nonsense that’s gone on at home but she’s been cooped up in her hotel for days while her mother tries to organise a townhouse for her. I just want her to get out and see the city. Who better to show her around than a native?”

Late next afternoon, his slight hangover thankfully having subsided after a coffee and a square sausage roll, Jamie stepped off of the train and onto the platform of Waverley Station in the heart of Edinburgh.

The tang of the breweries immediately filled his nostrils and he breathed deeply as the ever present sound of bagpipes floated down from the upper level of the street. While Lallybroch where was his heart lived, and he loved the humour and familiarity of Glasgow, Edinburgh held a special place in his heart. He never got tired of grabbing a coffee and walking the length of George Street in the sun, the castle bursting into view if he turned his eyes to the east.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made his way towards the hotel that Dunsany had insisted on to putting him up in, the same one as his daughter just to make things simple. Although Jamie had spent many a morning diving into the spectacular breakfasts put on at one of his favourite places in Edinburgh, The Huxley, he had never imagined staying at The Caledonian that loomed over the small establishment just metres from its door.

Jamie didn’t quite know what to do as the doorman who was wearing a bloody top hat opened the door to the hotel for him so he settled on giving the man a polite smile, resisting an absurd urge to give him some type of formal bow. He had been in nice hotels before but nothing like this with its polished marble floor and a huge vases of fresh cut flowers on most surfaces that he could see.

“Mr Fraser, we have you in the Robert Louis Stevenson Suite for two nights. Here is your room key and it also includes the number for the Concierge, should you have any need. We have a table booked in the Peacock Alley bar for you and Miss Dunsany at 6pm this evening and I would be happy to make any dinner reservations you would like to make, within or outwith the hotel. Michael can get the rest of your bags from the car,” a neat blonde woman smiled at him from the reception desk as she inclined her head to the bellboy hovering at a polite distance over Jamie’s right shoulder.

“It’s nae bother, lass, I’ve only got the one bag,” Jamie muttered with a hint of embarrassment as he pulled the bag from the floor and swiped the keycards from the desk, smiling back at her. “Thank ye.”

When he stepped through the door that bore the name of one of Scotland’s most beloved authors, his growing Imposter Syndrome ramped up a few notches. Crossing the floor towards the window, Jamie was greeted by a beautiful view of the castle as it loomed over the city. He didn’t quite know how to act, having never been in such a large and clearly expensive hotel room. In fact, it wasn’t even a room, the woman at the desk had called it a suite.

Flicking through the TV channels for a little while, settling on the new show about Billy Connolly’s upbringing in Scotland, his fingers lazily scratched at the bare patch of skin just above his belt buckle. Something about being in a different city and having some time to himself made him feel lighter than he had in weeks and he gave himself permission to laugh at a particularly lewd joke that spilled from The Big Yin’s mouth on the TV.

Jamie’s phone, lying face up on the mattress beside his left shoulder, startled him as it gave a firm buzz. Sitting up, he opened the latest message from Geneva, telling him that she wanted to go out for dinner somewhere nice tonight. He was under no illusion as to the fact that when someone like Geneva Dunsany used the words ‘somewhere nice’, she was actually saying ‘somewhere expensive’. But thankfully, Jamie knew just the place and sent her a reply saying that he had it in hand before phoning down to the reception and having the helpful woman book a table at a restaurant he knew would be impressive enough but not so posh that he would feel out of his depth by eating there.

Although they’d messaged back and forth that afternoon, he hadn’t bothered to enlarge the tiny picture next to her name at the top of the screen. Toying with his phone, Jamie resolved that he had to know what the lass looked like, not wanting to have to shuffle embarrassingly around the bar trying to figure out who he was there to meet.

Her picture brought to its full size, he looked at her for the first time and tried was pleasantly surprised. She was clearly beautiful. Dark hair that flowed in loose waves over bare shoulders, her skin a beautiful olive brown from a summer tanning on a beach somewhere. She was looking at the camera dead on with a surety that came from a privileged upbringing, her face painted perfectly and a twist of the lips that couldn’t really be called a smile, as if she didn’t want to be seen to be having fun. She looked like every posh girl that Jamie had met in his life, every girl at university who would air kiss their friends on both cheeks while their manicured hands clutched at bags that cost more than his first car.

Suppressing a groan at the thought of spending a weekend with a person who no doubt came from an entirely separate world than the one he’d grown up in, Jamie divested himself of his socks as he plodded, bare feet on plush carpet, through to the bathroom to take a shower and clean himself up ahead of his evening.

Later, he sat at the bar, his fingers playing with the patterns on the cut crystal glass that housed his double whisky, he felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder.

“James Fraser?”

His stomach dropped into the floor.

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind at what hearing his name fall from the lips of an Englishwoman would do to him. He felt an absurd wave of revulsion swipe through him in an instant and he took a quick drink before turning on his stool to face her, swallowing the bile that had risen up in his throat.

“Och, lass, nobody really calls me James. Ye can call me Mac. ’Tis another one of my family names,” he tried to sound light and not as if the sounds of his name leaving her lips felt like the flesh on his back had been ripped open to the bone.

There was a reluctance in her eyes and he immediately knew that she was uncomfortable so he did his best to send her his most charming smile, gesturing for her to sit and then signalling to the bartender.

“What would ye like tae drink?”

“Martini, if you would, extra dry, extra dirty,” she ordered confidently as the bartender nodded and turned to begin preparing it for her.

With her chin in the air, she asked, “So, my father said you were a business associate?”

“Aye, I suppose I am now. My brother-in-law and myself wish to start our own whisky company. Your father has kindly offered to help.”

“My father isn’t generally in the habit of helping out of kindness.”

“Aye, well, hopefully he trusts that we ken what we’re doing. Or that we’ll figure it out at the very least,” Jamie tried to joke but she gave him nothing. There was something cold in her demeanour that he hoped he wouldn’t have to fight against for the whole evening.

After watching the martini disappear down Geneva’s throat in record time, he offered her an arm as they left the hotel and were hit by the cool air of Edinburgh in the evening. As soon as Jamie took the first step towards Princes Street, Geneva halted.

“We’re walking?”

“’Tis no’ far, only ten minutes or so. We have time before our reservation,” he replied, gently tugging on the arm that she’d looped through his so that she would begin to walk with him. Her feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete.

“These are £500 shoes, I’m not walking anywhere.”

“Lass, Edinburgh is a city tae get lost in. If we get a taxi we’ll just be looking at the sides of buses and traffic lights. Yer father asked me tae show ye the city,” letting her arm slip from his, Jamie took a step forward and gestured towards the castle, atmospherically lit from beneath now that the sun had gone down. He turned back to her with a kind smile and held out his hand. “Let me, aye?”

Reluctantly, she acquiesced and let him lead her away from the hotel. Jamie’s skin tingled at the contact and he realised that he hadn’t touched a woman apart from Jenny since the university reunion with Claire. He flexed his fingers experimentally and felt something swell in the pit of his stomach when Geneva tightened her grip in response.

The two of them made small talk as they walked through Princes Street gardens and up towards the restaurant, Geneva seeming happy enough with the venue that he’d chosen. He’d heard good things about The Witchery before and as they sat down at a table covered in a pristine white cloth, surrounded by painted dark wood on the walls and ceilings, he noticed how pretty Geneva looked in the candlelight. Only a fool would try to argue that she wasn’t beautiful. But there was a coldness to her that hadn’t warmed yet and so he kept on being as charming as he could, hoping that another glass of wine might bring down the steely demeanour that she seemed to hold on to for dear life.

Oxford had been full of girls like Geneva Dunsany. Wealthy, privileged and confident. After four years of university, Jamie had perfected the art of tuning out their inane conversation about which exotic place they’d spent their summer, who’s guestlist they’d been placed on for the weekend and what they were planning on wearing. So he knew how to respond to her constant stream of speech, nodding and agreeing in the right places and sending dazzling smiles across the table when he felt like rolling his eyes. Though somehow, he found that he didn’t actually dislike Geneva Dunsany. Something in her eyes, or maybe it was the way she chose her words, showed Jamie that the poor little rich girl personality was an act. Underneath the mask, she felt the same way that he did—unfathomably sad.

Something inside of him felt sorry for her, recognising the pain that he knew all too well in another. And while he didn’t particularly care for the woman, Jamie decided to be kind to her. He leaned closer across the table and started to respond to her stories with anecdotes of his own. With the help of another two martinis, she began to blossom in his company and the two shared a relatively pleasant evening together.

When they reached the hotel elevator, Jamie had nothing on his mind other than stripping off his constricting shirt and sleeping off the whisky cloud that was hanging somewhere around his temples.

“What’s on the agenda now, then?” Geneva asked as they stood side by side.

“Shower then bed, I think.”

“Sounds good to me,” she all but whispered, Jamie’s head twisting to see the dark look of seduction that was painted on her face. “Mind if I join you?”

He didn’t say no.

It was shocking how easily he slipped into the worst version of himself. There had been a few nights in the past where he’d spent too much time and money in the pub in Broch Mordha and woken up the morning with some woman curled around him at whatever bed and breakfast they’d invited him back to. He only ever slept with women who were in the area for the moment, never anyone who he’d run into again. It was always when he was half gone with drink, his body acting solely on blind need that he succumbed to his baser instincts.

The doors of the elevator opened and Geneva walked in purposefully, turning to look at him with an alluring smile. Jamie walked in beside her and pressed the number for her floor.

They found pleasure in each other’s bodies but it was skin deep at best. A simple matter of scratching an itch that they both clearly had and had resolved to using the other to sate that particular need. There were no delicate touches or gazes held for any real length of time. Jamie set himself to work, making sure that she got hers before followed suit. It was perfunctory. Pleasant. And when they both uttered their subdued sounds of fulfilment, Geneva immediately rolled away from him, shielding herself once more.

“Do ye want me to go?” Jamie’s voice broke through the dark silence of the room.

Her response was barely a whisper, “Please.”

He dressed quickly, roughly, and scrambled around in the dark for his phone that had fallen from his pocket. Geneva was lying as still as a statue but Jamie could hear the odd sniff from her and realised that she had begun to cry. After dithering between his options, his inherent gentlemanliness won out.

“Is there anything I can do?”

There was no response for a few seconds and he took that as his answer, beginning to move towards the door of the room when a single word stopped his hand from turning the doorknob.

“Stay.”

Keeping his eye on her as though she was a frightened animal that might bolt at any provocation, he slowly began to undress. When she moved over slightly to give him room to get under the covers, he did just that and felt a strange sense of kinship as she wrapped her body around his. Jamie held her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep in his arms. The sound of her gentle breathing was the only thing filling the room until his phone suddenly pinged with a notification.

Facebook Congratulate Claire Beauchamp on their engagement!

Before he could stop himself, he opened the app and looked at the posed photograph of the two of them, her left ring finger showing off an almost comically large diamond ring.

After telling our friends and family, we are so happy to announce that we are engaged! We thank everyone so far for their kind words and well wishes. From the future Mr and Mrs Frank Randall.

Every muscle on his body was thrumming with energy. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the energy was made from. Rage? Fear? Utter desolation? Whatever it was, it was coiling its way around his ribs, holding him in stasis and holding him hostage as he experienced it.

He wasn’t even considered a friend anymore, seeing as he hadn’t been given the privilege of a private message, having to find out through fucking Facebook. She had clearly changed in her time in Boston, the Claire he knew would never have given up her name and become Mrs Frank Randall. Randall-Beauchamp at the very least, for Christs sake.

Tasting the rare metallic nature of blood in his mouth, Jamie realised that he was biting the inside of his cheek. He felt the need to get up and do something, anything to expel the energy that was going to burst out of him if he didn’t channel it into something. But he was stilled by the feel of Geneva’s naked body against his and a rush of guilt tried to swallow him whole.

How dare he question Claire’s life, assume to know her situation all the while he was in bed with another woman. Reminding himself for the hundredth time that Claire had made her choice and it wasn’t him, he swallowed his pride and went to send her a message, even though he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

He shouldn’t have had that final whisky.

Jamie: Just seen the news. Congratulations to you and yours.

A blatant lie but what was he supposed to say?

To his surprise, her reply was almost immediate.

Claire: Thank you!

Short and to the point. Two words that would shut down any further conversation, a feigned attempt at excitement and gratitude that he prided himself on being able to see through.

He knew that he would have been one of many to send the same sentiment that day but he had kidded himself that his text would receive a more personalised response. Maybe all she thought of him was a copy and paste response as she planted her phone down screen first on the sofa before climbing into the arms of her future husband.

In an attempt to hold the tears at bay, Jamie curled an arm around Geneva’s prone body, bringing up his hands to his arm and pressing his palms into his eyes until he saw stars.

[alderaani]

the shape of silence

this little fic is a gift for @hobiiwan as part of the @starwarssecretsanta event - i really hope that you like it! thanks so much to @lilhawkeye3​ for organising the event, it has been a really lovely thing to look forward to 🥰

summary: it has been two weeks since Nevarro, and Din is still trying to wrap his head around the quest he’s been given. he lands the Crest on a remote, wintery planet so that he can regroup and get his bearings | also readable on AO3

warnings: none, this is just a little fluffy winter-themed piece!

It’s too quiet. There’s the rumbling of the engine of course, the ever-present beat of the Crest’s mechanical heart, but apart from that…there is nothing. The deafening quiet of space lingers on the edge of his mind, like a predator hovering just out of sight. It sounds like it always does, after the bounty has been brought on board and sealed in carbonite, when Din is left exactly how he likes things. Alone, with his own thoughts.

Except this time, he isn’t. Silence, it turns out, can be very deceptive.

There is a clank somewhere deep in the hold and Din jumps, tripping over the corner of a storage crate and dropping the tarp he’d been trying to look under.

“Come on, kid…” he mutters, running a flustered hand over the top of his helmet. “Don’t do this to me.”

Something else rattles, ringing sharply through the durasteel. Somewhere in the gloom a little satisfied giggle echoes, a funny trilling sound that makes him smile through the sharp exasperation in his chest. Din sighs, slumping against the crate.

“I know you’re in there,” he tells the selection of equipment around him. There is no answer, but the silence feels bated, interested. Like someone is listening. “You’ve got to come out sooner or later.”

There is another giggle and the sound of many small things tinkling as they fall. Din groans and tips his head back.

“Anything you spill, you clean up on this ship,” he says, trying to be threatening, but even he can hear the defeat in his own voice. When there is more suspiciously long silence, he sighs again and crouches, lifting up the edge of the tarp and turning his heat sensors back on. Cold blue shapes swim muzzily on the HUD, and he’s just about to give up again and move on when a patch of orange flashes by. The little womp rat is back here all right, just as he suspected. A little bloom of relief spreads headily through him, but it’s not enough to dull the panic that has plagued him for the past several hours, from the moment he turned around in the pilot’s chair and realised the kid had vanished. 

The orange blur solidifies into a dense blob of red as the child comes out from behind more of the junk that Din has accumulated on jobs. Odds and ends mostly, things bounties had with them when they were taken and he’d kept because they’d looked useful. Boxes of scrap so that he can put the Crest back together when it is inevitably damaged. Stuff one absolutely would not want a small, overly curious infant to have full unrestrained access to. Din has seen the kid put a live frog into his mouth, so his opinion of the little gremlin’s judgement is not especially high. He keeps meaning to clear up, but he has yet to figure out how to baby proof a ship when the baby in question can move things with his mind.

The Razor Crest is not a big ship, but Din has quickly learned that that is very much a matter of perspective. He’d buckle the kid down if he thought it would work, but those little fingers are fast; he figured out the controls on his sleeping pod almost before Din did. The fact of the matter is that the child does not get put anywhere. He will tolerate being placed, if Din is lucky. Today he wasn’t.

The patch of glowing red shifts as Din watches. The child stoops, one small clawed hand reaching out to paw at the ground.

“I can see you, kid.” The red blob straightens, and then the shape of two large ears rotate in his direction. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re landing soon, get out here.”

There is a questioning chirp, and then the child is moving, emerging from the gloom. Din flicks off the heat sensors and looks down into a pair of large brown eyes as a body shuffles up to his leg and latches on to the fabric of his trousers with one hand. The other is closed tight, but Din catches a glint of silver through his fingers.

“Hey, what have you got there?” He plucks the kid up by the back of his robe and tucks him into the crook of one arm, then holds his free hand in front of his face, palm up. “Come on, hand it over.”

The kid makes no verbal response, but his ears flick down once, a dismissal if Din has ever seen one.

“I’m not negotiating,” Din says sternly, but it’s all a lie. He’s already starting to sweat a little at the look the kid gives him.

The child’s ears flicker again before he looks impassively out across the hold, hand held protectively against his midriff. Din keeps up the stalemate for a few moments, then hears something beep urgently in the cockpit. He sighs.

“Look, you give me whatever that is and I feed you. Sound good?”

This makes the child look up almost instantly, shifting in Din’s arms with a soft eager crowing noise. His hand twitches, and Din holds his breath. Then the cockpit beeps again and Din curses, half turning back towards the ladder. The kid has started making innocent burbling noises and is sitting placidly in Din’s arms, as if he hasn’t just dragged a seasoned bounty hunter on a several hour goose chase through the hull.

“I’ll double the jerky,” he pleads, patting the pouch on his belt for emphasis. “Come on kid, work with me here.”

The child grins. His little hand comes up and releases a collection of knuts and wire ends into Din’s palm, which he stows quickly into a pocket. He knows that he lost this round, but he’ll take whatever he can get at this point, so long keeps the kid alive and relatively out of trouble.

They get back into the cockpit just in time for the Crest to drop out of hyperspace, a shuddering rumble and then a familiar lurch sending him scrambling for the controls. There is a breathless, weightless moment as the sweeping dome of a planet materialises below, blotting out the stars. Din studies it quickly. Swirling grey clouds roiling within atmo, and where they break, mottled landscapes of white and green. He checks the navi-computer again for its name: Ayarth 4, cold, settled by mining colonies, covered in forest. Remote enough that not even Din knows it, because bounties clearly don’t stray here often. Perfect, in other words, for anyone that wants to lay low for a while.

As he sits in the pilot’s seat and sets the controls back to manual, Din feels a slight tugging on his boots and glances down to find the kid scaling his leg. He huffs out a laugh and moves his thigh so the womp rat can get a better grip, then can’t help the smile that spreads across his face when the kid drags himself into his lap and promptly sprawls, huffing as he draws his feet up under his robe out of the cold.

“You actually gonna take a nap, huh?” he asks, by now starting to recognise the sleepy droop to the child’s big brown eyes. It never happens when he hopes it will, but right now suits him just fine. The kid doesn’t say anything, but he curls his hand over the lip of Din’s thigh guard and rests his head on the exposed fabric, which seems answer enough.

As he lowers the ship into atmo and starts scanning the frozen ground for signs of civilization, Din reaches down to gently worry one of the baby’s ears between his fingers, sighing heavily to himself. The child weighs next to nothing, but he feels every ounce of the small body curled into his. 

The silence presses back in, interrupted this time by the roaring wind outside and the whining groan of the engines, but Din feels it all the same. He’s never minded quiet; when they were young Paz had always been the talker when necessary, happy to utilise the attention his size bestowed upon him so naturally. Din has always preferred to watch. He can read a person’s body, know exactly how they will move next in a fight, but words have too many faces.

Now though...now the silence feels too empty. He knows the deep abyss of space intimately - the feeling of great nothingness and infinite possibility stretching out in front of him. Has welcomed it, even. But there has always been something to go back to, in the past. A tether binding him to the rest of the galaxy throughout the solitary weeks and months drifting through stars. Now though, the covert is gone. They might reassemble, in time, but he has no way to find them even if they do, and so many will be gone. He has his mission, and that alone has kept him going through the two lonely weeks since Nevarro, the image of those piles of empty beskar seared into his mind. 

He’s self aware enough to know that he’s running, though. Panicking, almost. When they left, he was just trying to put as much distance between himself and the planet below in case of any straggling imperials that might try to follow their trail. Now they’re just drifting between fuel stations as he tries to fit his head around finding a people he has never heard of, let alone seen. A ‘race of enemy sorcerers’ no less...all he has to work with is a name, Jedi, and the way the kid’s ears perk up when he says it. He’s good at tracking people, good at chasing them to the far reaches of the galaxy and dragging them back to wherever they belong. But this feels like catching smoke. 

The kid snuffles in his sleep and his ears twitch as debris thumps against the hull. Din watches his eyelids flicker as he dreams and sighs, directing the Crest down towards a clearing. It’s maybe a mile away from where he can see lights and dwellings nestled among the trees. Far enough away to be discrete, close enough that they can run if he needs.

Dusk is falling when he lands, casting long blue shadows against the white ground. The sky, fractured and fragmented by trees, is bleeding purple and orange from a blood red sun. As the Crest settles the snow hisses, steam billowing up around the hot engines and drifting across the windshield. The baby stirs, blinking sleepily up at Din as he runs cool down checks and flips the safety switches, locking out his codes and setting everything to standby.

“Sorry, kid,” he murmurs, settling one hand at the back of his head. It’s too much to hope that he will go back to sleep. Already his ears are pricking, his head swivelling to focus on the little of the landscape visible through the transparisteel. Din thinks that his eyes are distant sometimes - not absent, but focusing on things that he cannot see. Going beyond. It wouldn’t surprise him if the baby’s strange powers allowed him to see through walls. He can already lift beasts, strangle people and heal them with his mind - what’s one more impossible thing?

Din lifts the child off his lap and sets him in his pod, leaving him to wake up more fully as he heads back into the hold and opens the weapons cache, gearing up in quick, practised motions. The new weight of the jetpack on his shoulders is still a thrill. His last blessing from Armourer. An affirmation that this is the right path, wherever it leads.

As he slings his rifle over his shoulder there is a little chirp. He looks down in time to see the kid’s pod bump gently into the open cache door; the child has his eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration, his hand raised. Din looks at his gauntlet and sees a little red light blinking on the pod control panel, one that he definitely did not switch on, and sighs, feeling his heart sink. 

���Very clever, kid,” he says, even as he resigns himself to never being able to find the child again. “I take it that means you’re ready to go?” 

The kid chirps again, giving him a toothy grin that falters into open amazement as the ramp hisses and lowers, revealing a world of muffled, glittering white. Snow has started falling again, a breaker of clouds rolling in to chase out the sunset and bringing the weather change with it. Din stops to wedge a spare scrap of fabric into the pod, looking critically at the child’s ears. He usually keeps the scraps on hand to clean his blasters, but they’ll do for this purpose too. 

The kid makes a funny crowing noise, reaching towards all that white, and tilts his head up at Din in silent demand.

“You’ve never seen snow before, huh? It’s cold, so keep that on. And let me know if your ears hurt.” He steps forward and fiddles with the pod controls so that that baby will stay level with him. “Best way to explain it is just to get out there. Come on.”

He finds himself almost excited as he steps out from under the metal plates of the Crest’s belly, keeping half an eye on the kid as he scans their surroundings for any hidden threat. The kid’s mouth opens in toothy delight, his brown eyes going big and dark and intense as he stares up into the darkening sky and the maze of swirling white. His little breaths puff up into the air and he reaches for it, babbling when it slides through his fingers and dissipates into the dusk. 

Then, his ears twitch, a quick reflexive motion. The kid turns to look behind him, then makes a disgruntled noise when there’s nothing there. His head tilts as he turns back to this new, interesting landscape, then his ears twitch again, flapping in a manner reminiscent of a sneeze. Din feels a smile creep onto his face as a large snowflake lands on the curve of the baby’s left ear, waiting with bated breath. He can’t stop the laugh ripping out of his throat when sure enough, the ears twitch again.

The kid whines, reaching up to cover his ears with his claws.

“It’s just the snow. It’s like rain, see?” Din says, still chuckling. He lets several flakes settle onto the back of one glove and holds it in front of the kid’s face, watching those clever little eyes latch onto the melting spots of white. The child reaches out to touch and makes a noise of consternation when the snow vanishes, bringing his hand to his mouth. “Yeah you got it, kid. It’s just water.” 

He turns back to the Crest and makes sure the ramp retracts, listening for the tell-tale triple click that means the lock has engaged. Mining communities tend to be insular, but not unpleasant. Not scavengers. He doubts there will be any trouble, but then, he thought that the kid would be a regular job, if high stakes. He’s quite done with surprises.

His breath bounces around the inside of his helmet, his boots creaking as they break through the frozen shell of the snow. It’s been a long time since he saw a view like this, even longer since he got to enjoy it.

“I say we head into the settlement and see if we can get some food. What do you think?” He says, turning back to the kid. He’s in time to see his closed eyes, to hear a coo of deep concentration - but what really gets his attention is the small wall of snow shooting towards the child’s outstretched hand.

“No, kid - wait!”

It’s too late. The force of the incoming snow sends the pod skittering, the child within flying backwards with a squeal as he is painted head to toe in white. He shakes his head like a dog, ears springing free. It’s the most disgruntled Din has ever seen him. 

“Bet you’re not gonna do that again, huh?” he chuckles, righting the pod and sweeping out the worst of the mess. 

The kid just holds his arms out, ears drooping as a lump of snow slides off the tip of his nose. Din huffs out a laugh and picks him up, tucking him under one arm and fishing out the blanket to drape over his legs. 

“When we come back later I’ll show you how to make snowballs. You had the right idea, but we’ve gotta work on your technique.” The kid huffs. “You’ve got to admit it was a little bit funny. Now, how about that food?”

The kid coos and settles his weight down, ears lifting as they set off through the trees. Din hones in on the distant flashes of strung up lights and squat houses, a warm orange glow fracturing off the ice. The child curls into the crook of his arm, now content to watch this new world unveil itself instead of bringing it to him, his face scrunching with every breath of wind. As they walk, he winds one small hand around Din’s thumb, his fingers worrying at the smooth orange leather.

Silence falls again, amplified by the way snow muffles everything, suspending them in a long unblemished moment. 

But this time, with the kid in his arms and the path stretching out in front of them, Din’s mind settles, crystallizing around the most important truth. 

Wherever it may take him, this is exactly where he’s meant to be.

[erintoknow]

it feels like a lie

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Three lives to juggle means three times as many more lies and conflicting agendas. How is anyone supposed to balance all of this? [Please Just Go]

[Read on AO3]

Alarms blare inside your helmet. Shit. They realized you're here.

Rosie is on the other side of the city; you had her create a distraction coating Memorial Park in smoke to try and lure The Rangers away. After the bridge fiasco last week you could use a break, sick as you are of fighting Argent.

That doesn’t do anything for the local rent-a-cops.

With a practiced haste you fold up the sheaf of papers and tuck them into a black storage bag attached to your suit belt. You’ll have to go over the rest in detail when you’re back at your best.

For now, you better cover your tracks.

The Nanovores make quick work of the rest of the filing cabinet before you turn yourself to the rest of the record room. Pulling out paper sat random, ripping shelves off their hinges and toppling over entire metal units. Damage done, you put a hand to one wall and weaken the joists.

Squaring your shoulder you back up, bracing yourself. When you charge forward, the drywall collapses into splinters and dust. Cries of alarm echo out in the hallway and someone fires a gun.

Ugh.

Idiots.

You turn towards the source and the man in the dark blue uniform takes a step back. You grab his mind, pulling him into a daymare just long enough to close the distance and knee him in the gut. Catch the gun before it hits the ground and it dissolves into dust in your left hand. “Someone could get hurt.”

You let the man drop and he just lays there, staring at you.

As tempting as it is to keep basking in the adrenaline rush, you should get out of here before Argent shows up.

Besides, Ariadne and Jane both have appointments of their own to attend to today.

To the same woman.

–––

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you adjust your sunglasses, press them up your nose and flush against your face. You’re just… going in to check on Ortega. That’s all. Nothing weird about that.

Just your friend.

Ortega.

Who is your friend.

That you’re checking on.

You step up to the door, hesitate – hand on the handle shaking. You let it go. Shit. Shit. Fucking – You turn back to the door and throw it open, storming in. The secretary at the desk looks up at you in alarm, one arm poised under her desk. “Hello! Can I… help you?”

“Ortega.” You state. Wait. Shit. Context. She needs context. “I’m here to see Ortega.”

The woman frowns at that, eyeing you up and down. “Can I ask who’s calling for her?”

You echo her frown back, cross your arms under your shawl. “I… guess?”

The two of you stand there in silence.

Oh.

Wait, shit – “Ariadne.” You offer. “Ariadne Becker.”

Her face perks up, suspicion easing slightly. “Oh! Your Ortega’s friend. I remember you now.”

You frown at that. She does? You’ve only been here, what? Twice? “I’m… sorry?”

She laughs, which only makes you frown more. “Ortega mentioned you were coming by today.” She did? “You can take a seat, I’ll let her know you're here.”

It’s not a long wait. Have to bite your lip to keep from smiling at Ortega walking out of the elevator. Raise a hand to catch her eyes. “Hey.”

She takes sight of you and smiles. “Hey yourself.” God. Just seeing her here is a relief. This building isn’t anything like the HQ your used to. Too clean and too sterile. Professional. Like the Farm.

“I – I made it. Hope you're happy.”

“You bet.” She grins, smug. No one would ever accuse Julia Ortega of being a graceful winner. “Com’on,” she beckons you after her. “Let’s head to my, uh...” She flashes a grin back at you, “special office.”

You tilt your head as you follow her back into the elevator. Tuck your sunglasses into your purse. Are you supposed to laugh at that or…? “Should I be worried?”

“Nah.” She punches a number into the keypad. “I’m too tired to get into trouble today.” She raises her other hand, shakes the coffee thermos she’s holding for emphasis.

Small talk with Ortega is an old routine. As comfortable, as it is dangerous: to forget for a moment this woman is actively working towards your destruction. That her smile is directed at an empty facade.

Well.

At least Jane gets to kiss her.

Oh –

Why did you have to think that just now?

You follow after her out of the elevator, a short walk past offices and meeting rooms and into what looks like an unfinished closet, ceiling joists exposed naked to the air. An obviously outdated computer, weighs down the desk at one end of the room while a white board with empty red circles spans another wall. But what really gets your attention is the set of out of place and utterly garish cheetah-print chairs. “What the…?”

“Donations.” Ortega shrugs, as if that explains anything. She pulls a seat over for you. Comfy enough, you guess.  “Sorry Ari, I can’t chat too long,” Ortega slides into the seat across from you, a coffee in one hand. “I’ve got to meet someone for work later.”

You frown at that. “Oh. Um… sorry?” Isn’t she meeting Jane? Going somewhere else first?

Ortega blinks, taken aback. “It’s… not your fault?”

“That’s my line.” You force a laugh, trying not to look as awkward as you feel. One hand pokes out from under your shawl to fiddle with your sunglasses. “I just… thanks for meeting me on short notice like this. I… know this, um, new villain has you running ragged.”

“It’s fine.” Ortega waves your concern off. “You know… you’re always welcome to stop by when I’m at HQ.” She makes a face, sitting back in her seat. “Which is… all the time now since, well…”

“Chen still won’t let you back on active duty?” How long has it been now? Two months since she got out of the hospital? Time is starting to blur. Getting harder to track.

“He’s afraid I’m going to do something stupid.”

“Hrm. Y–yeah, that definitely doesn’t sound like you.”

“Shut up!” She laughs, punching you in the shoulder. You make a show of almost falling over, as if you’d been hit far harder.

“You poor thing.” You tsk, a faint smile fighting to form. If Ortega’s staying on a desk, she’s safe. Safe from someone that could hurt her again.

Safe from you.

You glance at the doorway. “You must be bored out of your mind, stuck here.”

Her smile gains an edge, “Don’t worry. I’m keeping plenty busy.”

You frown, searching her eyes. “I know that look Ortega. That’s a – a face that means trouble for somebody.”

Her smile only broadens. “Only the ones that deserve it.”

You eye the whiteboard. All the conspicuously empty circles. “And how’s that going?” That’s the real question, isn’t it? How aggressive can you get with your tactics before the Rangers buckle down?

Assuming they don’t collapse like a house of cards first.

Ortega shrugs, noncommittal. “I’m working on it. I’ve got a…” Her eyes flit away from you for a second before returning with a smile. “A multi-pronged approach, let’s call it. Keeping me busy at least.”

“Just… d–don’t get yourself put in a hospital again. Okay?” You try to catch her eye. You don’t have to fake this. This sincerity. The ache in your chest. “Please?”

She smiles back at you, soft, maybe a touch sad. You can never be sure with these kinds of things. “I’m taking this dead serious Ariadne. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Mm.” You frown. If anything her assurance just makes you more concerned she’s going to do something stupid. “Is that why you’re plotting in Harry Potter’s broom closet?”

Ortega gasps in mock shock, a hand to her chest before collapsing into laughter. “Ariadne! I’ll have you know this is the most secure broom closet in Los Diablos!”

You laugh, “Nothing’s secure in this city.” You should know. It’s been hell isolating your workshop off the network.

Ortega clicks her tongue and taps the side of her nose. “Not so hasty now. Maybe that's the Mayor’s line but you shouldn’t believe everything she says.”

“Ortega!” You laugh, “did you just tell me not to trust the government?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds silly.”

“Uh-huh. And since when did you become a technology wizard?”

“That used to be your job.”

You fake a laugh. “Hey, if anything, it’s, uh– well, it’s more my job now than it ever was.”

“Well, I had some help.” She glances away, “Angie has a bit of a way with technology.” There’s a pause followed by a wince, “Don’t tell her I told you that.”

“Why?”

Ortega takes a drink from her coffee, dragging it out. “Because she’ll kill both of us.”

“I’d, um – I’d just as soon steer clear of her.” You answer, waving the concern away. “She s–s–scares the hell out of me. She’s like a… like a… woman-shaped shredding machine.”

“Angie’s really sweet! She just takes some effort to get to know.” A meaningful glance is shot your way. “Not unlike a certain asshole in this room.”

You smile back at her. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that.”

“Ouch! You’re vicious today.”

“S–sorry. I…” You go silent. Not sure how to finish that sentence. What else you can possibly say…? “Hey, um…”

“Yeah?”

“You said I could pick somewhere we volunteer at… that isn’t a hospital, right?” You watch her from the corner of your eye, not quite facing her.

“Uh, hey, yeah! You had somewhere in mind?”

“Y–yeah. There’s uh… there’s this soup kitchen. Up in… Pasadena. They’re… small so we should, uh, call ahead.” Got some memories of that place. Hadn’t expected them to still be around, over seven years later.

“Pasadena?” Ortega purses her lips, thinking. “That’s around one of your old haunts, isn’t it?”

You nod. No point trying to play it off “Y–yeah.”

“Okay. You make the arrangements, let me know a date. I’ll try to make sure my schedule is clear.”

“That’s… thanks.”

Ortega takes a sip of her coffee, “So. Was that all you wanted to ask me about?”

“Not exactly… um.” How do you put this? You shift in your seat. “I’ve been, uh – seeing the news stories lately… What’s this about Argent working with vigilantes? Did you know?”

“I…” Ortega looks away, back down at her coffee. “Yeah. I mean. It’d be kind of hypocritical of me to disapprove, don’t you think?”

“Someone’s going to get hurt.” You sigh, “I mean… I understand what you mean but…”

“We made a good team.”

“...yeah.” You sigh, hold yourself up with a hand to your forehead. “But Lady Argent doesn’t seem to be a – well…”

“A team player. I know.” Ortega glances up at you, a quirk of suspicion on her lips. “But you’re retired now, Ariadne. You told me yourself, this isn’t your world any more.”

You sit back, stare out the window at the passing traffic. “I… I know. But – having…. Having you around again. It’s… hard not to care. I… want to let it go. But when it seems like the Rangers are falling apart and I’m just…”

Responsible.

“Now that sounds like the Ariadne I know.” Ortega’s voice is sad, sad enough to get you to look at her again. “You never could just sit on the sidelines. Even when it was for your own good.”

You make a face. “Well, neither could you.”

“Guilty as Charged.”

“Oh f–fuck you.” You laugh, slapping her hand away. “I can’t believe you never – never made that pun before.”

Ortega’s smug grin doesn’t leave her face. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed your helping Herald now.” She leans over to you, still grinning. “Anything I should know about?”

You lean away from her, eyes wide. “W–what!? I’m just– we’re just–”

Ortega bursts out laughing. “Relax! I’m only teasing you.” She looks up, sees the expression on your face and starts laughing again.

“Asshole.” You hiss at her, face red. “He’s just a dumb kid who doesn’t know the first thing about how to hold himself in a fight.”

“I think that fight with Ghost finally shocked him out of his comfort zone.”

“Or maybe,” You give Ortega a pointed look. “You all just weren’t training him right.”

“You were his childhood hero, you know that right?” Ortega’s smile fades. “He looks up to you.”

God. There’s a terrifying thought.

“Give it time.” You huff. “I’ll fix that too.”

–––

“There she is!” Jane flings her arms into the air, “I missed my practice buddy.”

Ortega laughs, catching Jane in the coffee shop door. “Just your ‘buddy’ huh?”

“Hmph!” Jane pouts, “You know what I mean.”

“Madre de Dios, I’m so glad to finally be out of that hospital.” Ortega smiles with her whole face, pulling Jane in for a hug. For a moment it feels like they might kiss. And then they disentangle.

Jane mirrors the smile back with a touch of puzzlement. “Did they really only just let you out?” Jane and Ortega haven’t had a chance to meet up since Ghost crashed the Gala over a month ago now. Two months? It’s getting hard for you to keep track of time. But you know she’s been out for a while now.

What’s going on?

Ortega’s smile freezes on her face as she rubs the back of her neck. “Well… I’ve been busy too. Work.” She flaps an arm in the general direction of Ranger’s HQ “Sorry. I should have at least called.”

“It’s okay…” Jane’s smile takes a bitter edge. A knot twisting in her gut. “Our date didn’t exactly… go well, did it?” Maybe that’s it. She’s just trying to spare Jane’s feelings.

“Hell, Jane, I am so sorry. And then you got… hurt because of me and…” Oh. That’s why she’s been avoiding Jane. Guilt. That makes sense. You understand guilt.

“Stop it.” Jane presses a finger to Ortega’s lips. “It’s not your fault. It’s…”

Ortega takes her hand, gently lowering. “Ghost’s.”

Jane laughs, disdainful. Weaves her fingers between Ortega’s as they move to walk down the street together. “Is that really the name now?”

“Yeah.”

“How dumb. What is this guy, emo?” Jane glances back towards Ortega. Was that a frown on her face? It’s gone. She’s smiling again. Jane smiles back.

“It is pretty dumb isn’t it?” Ortega laughs along. “I’ve heard worse ones before though.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Emperor President is still my top pick.”

Jane laughs, “That’s not dumb, that’s fucking amazing.”

“Maybe it wraps back around to that.”

“Well, maybe it does.” Still laughing, Jane twists around so she’s standing in front of Ortega. Bringing the both of them to a stop. “So. I think you owe me something.” There’s a glint in her eye. This is – this is forward. Too forward? No, it’s Ortega. Relax.

Ortega’s face is a careful blank. “Do I now?”

“Another date? I…” Jane breaks eye contact, biting her lip. “I mean. If you want to. Of course.”

Ortega squeezes her hand. “Of course.” Her smile turns sheepish as she looks away too. “Honestly, I… was worried I had, well, scared you off after everything.” It’s like a weight is lifted from Jane’s shoulders. The sun is brighter, the sky bluer.

“Hey!” Jane pats her on the face, redirects her to meet Jane’s eyes again. “It’s going to take a lot more than bombs and a mentally disturbed wacko to scare me away.” She tilts her head, laughing with her eyes. “that’s practically my day job already with all the debt BS.”

“Alright…” Ortega’s smile broadens, more confident. “Alright, great!”

Jane steps forward in Ortega’s space, “And I’ve got just the idea of where we can go…”

[that-salamander]

So I heard Superman is going back to the classic costume for Action Comics #1000. I guess It makes sense to go back to an iconic style for such a monumental occasion. When I heard the news I was really excited, it’s like DC was finally embracing their history for once instead being embarrassed and reactionary like they usually were.

Yet, when I looked up people’s reactions I was surprised to find so many mixed responses about the whole thing. Some hated the idea of the trunks coming back believing that it somehow regresses the character instead of moving him forward. Some were happy about the iconic red briefs making a comeback believing that the trunks were as essential to Superman’s look as the cape and S-shield are.

I don’t necessarily mind if Superman wears the trunks or not, but I mostly disagree with both sides trying to prove the other wrong. Most “legit” criticisms against the red trunks don’t really hold any water, (how can the trunks be outdated but the cape still be relevant?) Most of the real criticisms come to the idea that the trunks are “just too goofy” which is somewhat true, but honestly I’ve always felt Superman should be goofy and his outfit should reflect his fun, ridiculous life. The trunks have been around longer than Superman’s iconic S-shield which has gone through numerous revisions before finally looking like the one we know. Yes, they were added to emulate the circus strongmen of the 1930’s which isn’t really a thing anymore, but I feel superheroes have become such a huge pop cultural phenomenon that the trunks have been more synonymous moreso with them and especially Superman.

But the Trunks are “too goofy”. This really bugged me to say the least, that people are too shallow to look beyond a pair of pants. And it ain’t the opposite on the other side of the argument. Some believe that a Superman without the trunks is merely a shadow of the true Man of Steel. I won’t say that the trunks aren’t iconic, but to say that the Superman costume can’t work without them isn’t really true in my opinion. The problem is that the original costume works so well because it’s easy to draw and simple to understand. The trunks break up all the blue and gives it an overall ruggedness or “homemade”, makeshift feel that really fits for the character. The trunks also gives the overall design a core/center allowing the viewer to look exactly where they need to get the full effect of the design. Taking the trunks away makes the costume very top heavy and shifts the color balance in an off-putting way, which is why DC gave Superman’s current costume a red belt, which kinda makes sense. Unfortunately, the belt doesn’t have much going on to give it the amount of balance and “emphasis on the core” effect the trunks had.

But just because the current costume doesn’t have it yet, doesn’t mean it can’t be done. So I spent hours trying to come up with redesigns on both sides to try and challenge the criticisms that either side had for the other. I partly hated the idea of messing with the classic costume in any way, but I wanted to see if I could “modernize” the trunks for this day in-age. After all, if the trunks are as essential as the ’S’ and cape, then why not update and revise them just as the ’S’ was constantly revised.

As for the traditionalists, I wanted to find a way to make a Superman costume without the trunks work. I personally don’t think the current costume does a good job at selling the concept, though it certainly tries. It’s mostly that metallic belt; aesthetically it doesn’t work, and logically it looks uncomfortable. So I tried looking at what made the original so good, which was it’s simplicity, color balance, and importance on the center. It’s important to have the costume draw the viewers eyes all over it. I’m mostly happy with the results of how these turned out, and I’m really curious how people might feel about them.

Trunks Row:

1. Just the old suit but the trunks are slightly stylized. It was my first attempt at changing the classic look, and I hated every second of it. This went through numerous changes before I was finally somewhat satisfied with the look. I played it real safe and didn’t try to go too crazy, like I said before the classic look is great because of it’s simplicity. But yeah, as a first attempt go; it’s my least favorite one.

2. I love old sci-fi fantasy, Buck Rodgers, Flash Gordon type aesthetics, and I somehow wanted to incorporate that into a Superman costume. So I came up with really sleeking up the trunks and belt, I also changed up the boots as well. This is my personal favorite of the trunks bunch mostly because I felt the old sci-fi nature and aesthetics really work for a character like Superman.

3. This was more of my tribute to the bygone eras, this was an attempted fusion of all of Superman’s Golden-age costume elements to create something very familiar yet new. I took inspiration to lengthen the trunks from the late, great Darwyn Cooke (RIP). I also looked to the Fleischer Superman serials to give him a black belt instead. To compensate for the length in trunks, I had to shorten the boots a little. I wanted to bring back that tough, ruggedness that those early designs and the classic costume were known for.

4. Probably the closest to the original costume, I magnified the belt and stylized it to give it some much needed emphasis. It practically takes up half the trunks. I also shaped the belt to that of the S-shield, because why not.

Trunk-less Row

5. Just the Reborn costume, mostly used as a comparison. I personally don’t like this outfit, like I said it’s that belt. It just doesn’t make any sense, how does Superman put it on? It’s metallic and is pointed at the bottom always over his crotch. Thankfully Supes is invincible, otherwise everytime his sits down, that belt will always be stabbing at his crotch. Another reason I really don’t like it is that it’s too top-heavy, it might look alright when it comes to his upper body at first but you’ll start to get bored with the suit as you go down. It’s that color balance; you need to add more either to the belt or boots, through color or design, to keep us viewers interested to continue to look around. (Plus: the shield belt buckle is redundant and unnecessary)

6. I kinda took inspiration from the Smallville season 11 comic costume for this one. I personally found the yellow trim on the belt works really well as it makes the midsection pops out. but like the Reborn costume it wasn’t enough to draw your eye down, luckily I decided to put some yellow on the boots making them pop out as well. Now my eyes were going all over the place. This is probably my favorite out of the trunk-less bunch, because it looks like something DC might be able to reasonably pull off sometime in the future, if they decide to permanently retire the trunks.

7. So obviously, the midsection was kinda a problem when it came to trunk-less Superman costumes. Belts weren’t gonna cut it, so I wanted to try a different way to make the costume core work without resorting to a belt, I tried using a different shade of blue on the sides to distribute the focus of the costume. Usually, I’m against the idea of having more than 3 colors when designing a superhero costume unless it’s minor or for a good reason. Surprisingly, in this scenario it works pretty well.

8. The biggest issue of taking the trunks away was that there was too much blue. So why not make the belt huge? That’s basically the mindset I had when making this costume. I even added a stylized redundant shield on the belt to add appeal. It honestly has a WWE champions title belt feel to it.

So yeah. This happened, I really want to know if anyone thinks it’s possible to find a compromise to this debate. Is there a costume you like the most? Dislike? Which one would you tweak to make it better? Where do you guys fall in the debate? Are the trunks still relevant, and can they be modernized? Or are they too stuck in the past and it’s time to let it go?

[andtails]

A Prelude to Chaos Control - Chapter 11: Dreams Come True

Click here to start from the beginning. You can also read this story on FanFiction.Net or Archive of Our Own.

*****

Anonymous User Review Response (from FanFiction.net):

Guest: I agree the original anime was lacking in the Sonic and Tails brotherly department, and with a reimagining, I would “step it up”, so to speak, and place a substantial emphasis on their brotherly relationship, especially under the backdrop of an entirely new world. No humans will stand in the way of their precious bonding time!  ;D

In speaking of which, updates on the profile poll I created a few weeks ago are at the end of the chapter!

*****

Chapter 11: Dreams Come True

“Sonic…Tails…anyone…please help us.” Cream let go of the rusted bars of her cage and covered her face with her hands, tears dripping through her fingers as her knees collapsed to the cold, metallic floor below.

“Chao, chao…” Cheese was crying as well, his stubby hands covering his eyes as tears soaked his red bowtie.

“That monster…” Tails walked toward the yellow television in the grass, dropping to one knee to get a better view of the imprisoned bunny and her pet chao through the flickering display. His eyes began to moisten.

…Am I to blame? If I hadn’t lost the emeralds, Eggman wouldn’t have kidnapped her.

“No…” The orange kitsune shook his head, trying to get these intrusive thoughts out of his subconscious before tilting his head toward the grass below, closing his eyes.  

Eggman is to blame. Not me or anyone else.

Tails sighed to himself before turning his gaze to his friends. Amy was about to pounce.

“All right, you robot!” The pink hedgehog grabbed Bokkun by his yellow M-shaped belt buckle, raising him so he could meet her angry gaze. “What’s Eggman planning to do with Cream, huh?”

“Wait, wait, wait, I didn’t do anything! Promise!” The small robot began to sweat profusely as he threw his arms and legs around. “Help me! Get this crazy girl away from me!”

“What did you call me?” Flames grew in Amy’s pupils as she grabbed hold of either side of his waist and shook him back and forth.

“Aaaaaaah!” Bokkun’s head bobbled as he screamed for mercy.

“Amy…” Sonic placed an arm on the pink hedgehog’s shoulder. She stopped and looked at his gloved hand, his head gently shaking as if to tell her that no amount of torment she could inflict on the henchman would do any good for Cream and Cheese.

“Hmph…fine.” She dropped Bokkun before dusting her hands off. The messenger robot landed on the grass below, swirls appearing over his beady eyes as his dizzy head spun around.

“Ehem!”

The party’s eyes returned to the television which now displayed the slightly fuzzy image of Dr. Eggman straightening his jacket and inspecting his long orange mustache with a handheld mirror. Throwing the mirror to the side, the doctor cleared his throat once more and turned his face to the camcorder.

“Greetings, my favorite adversaries!” His evil smile grew as he turned to the side, allowing the party to see Cream and Cheese once more. “As I’m sure even you lot have figured out, your little bunny friend is now under my care.”

“Ooooo, that Eggman…” Amy pulled her Piko Piko hammer from her hammerspace, gripping its handle with both hands as she slowly walked to the television.

“Wait!” Tails obstructed her path, stretching his arms in either direction. “Let’s hear what he has to say first.” The young kitsune turned around to listen as the evil doctor continue his speech. The pink hedgehog watched over his shoulder.

“I will give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much trouble this innocent-looking rabbit put me through.” He raised a clenched fist for the audience to see. “She destroyed several of my prized babies, annihilating my Egg Pawns as if they were nothing! Even her mother tagged in for a bit, but alas,” Robotnik swept his arm in the direction of his prisoners, “their efforts were in vain, and not only do I have Cream and her annoying blue pest in my custody, but,” he reached a gloved hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a gray gem from within, “I acquired another Chaos Emerald as well. Wooahhooohoohooo!” The doctor’s laughter bellowed out of the weak speakers of the television, distorted audio echoing into the audience’s ears.

“By my calculations,” Eggman continued, raising his fingers to the camera, “I now have three in my collection, and you have one, so three more are still out there, waiting to be found.” The doctor turned to face his robot henchmen watching from the side. “Decoe! Bocoe! Wheel Cream closer, will ya?”

“Aye aye!” the two said in unison as they entered the shot in order to position the captives directly next to the evil madman.

“Bokkun! Get a good shot of this and be sure to edit this out!”

“Y…yes sir,” the messenger robot said in a weak, half-hearted voice, tilting the camcorder downward to get a better shot of Cream, who shielded her eyes from the studio lights with her hands while the chao cried against her orange dress.

“All right Bokkun, be sure to cut right…here!” The doctor’s demeanor changed as he addressed the audience once more, now completely out of the camera eye. “If you’d like to free your precious little friend here, you must trade me all of the remaining Chaos Emeralds, including those still missing.” He laughed once more as the little bunny removed her hands from her face and pressed them against her ear flaps, rolling into a fetal position in the center of her cage. Cheese rubbed his master’s arm with a stubby hand, but it seemed to have no effect. Nevertheless, he persisted as the evil doctor continued laughing maniacally.

“Okay Bokkun, now turn the camera back to me.” He did as instructed, zooming out from the trapped rabbit and spinning the camcorder in Robotnik’s direction. “Now cut back in riiiiiiight, now.”

Putting on another menacing smile while stroking his orange mustache, he continued his rehearsed ransom speech. “But you know what? I’m feeling a bit generous. I’ll give you five…no…seven days to collect the remaining gems.” He raised seven fingers toward his face for the viewers to see. “If you don’t bring me the Chaos Emeralds by then, I will hold Cream indefinitely. Maybe I’ll even put her to work with the janitorial night crew. Wooahhooohoohooo!”

“Eggman is gonna pay…” Sonic balled his hands as his arms began to shake, gritting his teeth.

“Well, I’m off to bask in my victory. Hope the news wasn’t too...explosive.” Eggman snickered as his image disappeared from the television, replaced with a large red number 5, slowly counting downward, accompanied by high-pitched beeps.

“Everyone, dive for cover!” Tails yelled, waving his arms away from the TV.  The gang scattered, running as far away as possible with what little time they had. As Tails was the closest, he didn’t have time to duck behind something, so he dove forward, covering his head with his hands as he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes.

BOOM!

A small explosion erupted from within the CRTV, bits of components shooting in all directions as the charred remains produced smoke which slowly dissipated into the sky above.

“Everyone okay?” Sonic asked, stepping out from behind a stack of logs. Attached to him was Amy, whose first instinct in this situation was to dive toward her blue boyfriend and continue holding on well after the danger passed.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tails twisted his head, inspecting as much of his back as he could. He couldn’t see or feel any shrapnel, so he rolled over, thoroughly inspecting his arms, legs, and torso. The only thing out of place were the grass stains covering his knees and belly.

Pulling himself up, he watched as Knuckles emerged from behind a makeshift log seat. Rouge, who took to the skies as her flee tactic, returned to the ground below. All of them gathered near the charred grass, none appearing worse for wear.

“Are you kidding me?” Knuckles shook his tightened fists. “It’ll take me hours to clean up this mess!”

“Really?” Amy asked, turning in the red echidna’s direction. “Are you really only concerned about your yard at a time like this?

“I’ll have you know this is sacred ground…” Knuckles looked embarrassed, glancing toward his other friends for support. Receiving only stone-faced stares complete with furrowed brows and disappointed frowns, he turned to Amy as he shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, I guess it is trivial, all things considered.” He grimaced as he turned his attention back to the television wreckage before them, a scowl on his face.

“What do we do now?” Amy asked, turning back to the full party.

Looking up into the sky, Sonic clenched his fists once more.

“We’ve gotta save Cream and Cheese! We know where Eggman’s hiding out, so we could just rush on in and save ‘em.” Sonic’s gaze turned back to Amy and Knuckles as Tails stood to his side. “Pretty simple, huh? We can have Cream back to her mom before dinnertime.”

“I agree,” Knuckles replied, raising a determined fist. “What’s a few Badniks guarding his fortress gonna do to stop us?”

“You said it, Knux.” Sonic raised a clenched hand to the red echidna for a fist bump, which he enthusiastically returned.

“I wish it were that simple,” Tails interjected, watching as the party’s gaze turned to him. “Remember Rouge’s story? She is the expert on infiltration, and not only was she caught, she almost died escaping his fortress.”

“He’s right, as much as I hate to admit it.” Rouge shrugged her shoulders. “Eggman’s base is armed to the teeth with Egg Pawns and large mechs.”

“And that was before Rouge’s narrow escape,” Tails added, rubbing a gloved finger against his chin. “We have to assume Eggman is beefing up his defenses, or even using his new Chaos Emerald to add an extra layer of security.”

“Well? We can’t just do nothing!” Knuckles exclaimed, crushing a component from the destroyed television under his worn shoe.

“What if Eggman has us cornered this time?” The group looked at Amy, who was leaning against her Piko Piko Hammer, her face downcast as her eyes stared at the grass below, drained of their previous fire. “Cream and Cheese are our number one priority, so maybe we could just hand over the emeralds and deal with the fallout later?”

“What!” Knuckles’ face turned red as anger built up inside him. “Are you suggesting we simply give him the Chaos Emeralds? Think of the destruction he’d cause!”

“Knuckles is right.” Tails walked over to the pink hedgehog as a small tear fell from her eye. He placed a gloved hand on her shoulder as a warm, reassuring smile appeared on his face. “But we can think of something…right Sonic?” The orange fox turned to face his older brother, whose arms were folded and eyes closed.

“Well, we always do, so why is this any different?” Sonic cracked a smile as he delivered his signature thumbs up, which Tails returned in kind. Knuckles’ anger ebbed while Amy’s lips formed a small smile of her own, allowing her hammer to fall to the ground as she dried her tears with her index finger.

“Hey, do you guys hear that?” Knuckles turned back to the smoldering bonfire, the pot of water no longer boiling. They watched as Bokkun frantically consumed multiple, half-eaten bowls of oatmeal scattered around the bonfire. Transfixed at his ferocious speed, the party simply watched.

“Boy, he really must be malnourished, huh?” Sonic asked, turning to his young brother.

“I guess,” Tails replied, “but why would Eggman develop a robot dependent on organic matter to sustain itself?”

“Beats me.” Sonic shrugged his shoulders as he closed his eyes.

Amy wasn’t interested in such banter, however; she approached the messenger robot, who had since sat against the base of a log chair, stretching his legs out against the grass while resting his hands against his protruding belly.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” She peered down at Bokkun with a long frown.

“What?” Bokkun gave the pink hedgehog a confused look while tilting his head. “I delivered my message, so I had oatmeal. Wasn’t that the deal?”

Amy sighed.

“Well, at least he took care of the leftovers.” She grimaced as Bokkun let out a long belch, a satisfied grin appearing on his face as he rubbed his belly once more.  

As everyone else laughed at Bokkun’s lack of manners, Tails raced through several different strategies for infiltrating Eggman’s base as his eyes explored the grass below his feet.

Hmmm...well, a direct assault would be too impractical and dangerous. We could try sneaking in, but this poses its own risks, especially as a group, and we don’t know what traps Eggman may be hiding.

A lightbulb went off in his head, and his eyes lit up as he raised a finger upward.

“Hey guys! I think I have an idea.”

“You do? That’s great!” Sonic gave his young brother a warm smile. “So, let’s hear it!”

“Well,” Tails began, “what if we bring all the emeralds to the fortress, get Cream back, and escape with the emeralds before he can get his hands on them?”

“Sounds complicated,” Knuckles replied, folding his arms together as he closed his eyes in thought, “not to mention risky. We’d have all seven emeralds within arms reach of Eggman and his energy doohickey.”

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t be risky,” Tails continued, gesturing with one hand, “but I could probably disable some of Eggman’s traps and mechs from the outside before we even enter the compound. This would at least keep Cream and Cheese safe.”

“I like the way you think, little guy!” Sonic said, ruffling the orange kitsune’s hair.

“Heh, it was nothin’.” Tails waved a hand outward, a small blush appearing over his muzzle.

“There is just one small problem with this plan,” Knuckles said as the brothers turned to face him. “We only have one emerald, and we need three more for Eggman to let us in.”

“True…” Sonic placed a finger against his chin.

“Well, let’s worry about that later.” Tails faced his older brother. “In the meantime, why don’t you fly Amy over to Vanilla’s? I’m sure she could use the emotional support.”

“Right on!” Sonic gave the young fox a thumbs up before turning to the pink hedgehog. “What d’ya say we mosey on out of here?”

“Right.” Amy jumped toward the blue hedgehog, who was ready to catch her in his arms before speeding off toward the Tornado 2.

“Hey Sonic,” Tails yelled, causing his older brother to screech to a halt. “Don’t forget these.” Tails withdrew his keys from his utility belt and threw them toward the blue hedgehog. Amy caught them in her hands before the two took off once more.

“And Rouge,” Tails continued, watching as she inspected her gloved fingers with her legs folded, sitting on a makeshift log chair. “Can we trust you to join us?”

“Me?” she coyly asked, pointing at herself with both hands. “Well, I usually don’t like taking orders, but I’ll make an exception for you, fox boy.” Winking to the lightly-blushing orange kitsune, Rouge stood up from her chair, wiping small bits of bark from her latex pants. “Just keep me posted.” She pointed to the watch she wore on her wrist, different from the ones Tails made for his immediate friends but still communicable with his signature model.

“Of course!” Tails gave the bat a warm smile as she walked toward the edge of the floating island, looking into the azure waters below.

“Be seeing you later. This girl needs a spa treatment.” Giving a two-fingered wave from behind her head, the jewel thief jumped off the edge, allowing herself to fall several yards before gliding upward and steadying her flight, making her way back to the mainland in the distance.  

“What will you be doing, Knuckles?” Tails asked, his attention now set on the red echidna standing nearby.

“For now? Cleaning…lots of cleaning.” He walked back to the bomb remnants several yards from the bonfire, shaking his head. “Eggman will rue the day he decided to sully my island…” The red echidna’s grumbles trailed off as he made his way back to his cabin to fetch a garbage bag.

“And now that just leaves me.” Tails stood at the edge of the island, gazing into the blue skyscape, the afternoon sun reflecting over the ocean waters below.

“What can I do to be useful?” Standing in thought for a few moments, he turned his head back to view the Master Emerald shrine in the distance.

“…Open your heart, huh?” He nodded to himself, a sense of resolve forming in his eyes. “Well, guess it can’t hurt.” He slowly made his way through the well-kept grass as he grew closer to the Master Emerald.

Only the sound of rustling wind and ocean waves could be heard at the abandoned campfire, save for the rhythmic snoring of a certain messenger robot, whose catnap ended abruptly as his snot bubble popped. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around to find the site deserted. Bokkun lifted himself up and flew around the perimeter of the bonfire with his jetpack before setting his feet back down in the grass.

“They left me all alone? Why would they do that? I thought we were friends…” Tears began to form in his beady eyes as he sat back down, his downcast face looking into the smoke coming from the extinguished fire in front of him.

“Cream…I hope you’ll be okay…”

“Cream?” came a voice from behind. Knuckles returned from the cabin, a garbage bag in tow. “Why are you concerned about her? I thought you were on Eggman’s side.” The messenger robot quickly jumped backward.

“No, no, no…this isn’t what it looks like!” He waved his hands forward, making himself look all the more guilty.

“What? Are you defecting or something?” Knuckles eyed the robot suspiciously, wind blowing into the opening of the garbage bag, inflating it as it flew like a flag in the red echidna’s hand.

“No! I would never betray Dr. Eggman!” Bokkun shook his head, sweat starting to form along his brow.

“…You robots don’t make any sense.” Knuckles scoffed as he turned to the charred grass. “If you’re not gonna help clean your mess, I suggest you leave immediately.”

“…Right.” Bokkun took flight, making his way upward before flying across the shrine.

The fox looked up as he saw the dark speck above leave the island before sitting down in front of the Master Emerald, cross-legged with his back up straight. He allowed his namesakes to flutter as he studied the mystical gem glistening in the afternoon sun while racking his brain.

Blinking a few times, the orange kitsune rubbed his temple with his gloved fingers.

“Think Tails, think…” After a few more minutes of deep thought, he came up with an idea. “Well…it’s certainly better than nothing.”

The young fox got on his knees and bent his back, bowing to the Master Emerald with hands pressed against each other.

“Oh Master Emerald…ummm…hear…my prayer?”

While he knew nobody was watching, Tails felt his body shake in embarrassment, his namesakes resting against the stone surface behind him as his muzzle grew warm.

“I worship thee divine gem…and all of its…ummm…wonderous…ness…and the power that it…bestows…upon us.”

Yep. Totally losing my mind here.

The fox winced as he looked up at the green emerald, towering over his small figure as he pondered someway to continue his extemporaneous prayer.

“I pledge my…fealty…to you, almighty Master Emerald!”

Tails unclasped his hands and raised his body upwards, slowing swaying his arms toward the sky before allowing them to sway downward. He repeated this several times, as if slowly fanning the mystical gemstone.

“You know that’s not gonna work, right?” The orange kitsune’s hands were upright when he was startled from behind, toppling over backward with arms outstretched. The fox looked up to see Knuckles peering down from above. Tails’ face turned a bright shade of red before managing a few nervous chuckles, his hand rubbing a triangular ear as he cracked a small smile.

“Here.” The red echidna reached his hand down to the fallen fox, who twisted himself around, grabbed hold of his spiked glove, and allowed himself to be pulled back up to his feet.

“Thanks, Knuckles.” Tails brushed bits of gravel from his legs as he fluttered his namesakes.

“At least you get an ‘A’ for effort.” Knuckles cracked a smile. “Come.” The young kitsune watched as the guardian stepped around him, planting his feet in front of the Master Emerald before setting himself down, crossing his legs and holding his back upright. Knuckles patted the stone surface next to him, beckoning the orange fox to join him.

“Oh…okay.” Unsure of Knuckles’ plan, he shrugged his shoulders before taking a seat next to the red echidna.

“When I said to place your faith in the Master Emerald, I didn’t mean to literally pray to it.” Knuckles looked over at the young kitsune, who placed a hand behind his head.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I probably looked really dumb, huh?”

“Well…just a little.” The red echidna raised a hand forward, forming a small gap between his thumb and the rest of his gloved fingers as if to emphasize his level of dumbness. “Now, I want you to repeat after me.”

“Right.” Tails looked on with determination in his eyes, studying Knuckles as he hoped to emulate him down to a tee.

Knuckles closed his eyes as he drew in a big breath, holding it for several seconds before slowly exhaling. Tails did the same, his face pointing downward as he closed his eyes, filling his lungs with fresh air, keeping his breath held for a few moments before letting a warm flow of air leave his nostrils.

Knuckles repeated this ritual, so Tails did the same. After several rounds of deep breathing, the red echidna looked back at the orange fox.

“How do you feel?”

Tails raised a gloved finger to his chin, looking up at the baby blue sky above.

“Well…I feel fine, actually. No anxiety, no pressure…it’s as if all my worries have been…extinguished.”

“Heh…that’s the idea. Meditative breathing helps ease the soul and calm the mind. You should try it more often.”

“Me specifically, or people in general?”

“…Yes.” The two friends shared a laugh.

“The next step,” Knuckles continued, “is to bare your soul to the Master Emerald.”

“Huh?” Tails looked at him, his head slightly tilted and his brow scrunched.

“Well…” Knuckles rubbed his chin with a gloved hand. “It’s kinda hard to explain. Haven’t really taught anyone before.” The red echidna cleared his throat. “Okay…think of it like this.” His eyes met the young fox’s curious stare. “Imagine you’re in a room with nobody but your closest friend.”

“Right.” Tails closed his eyes once more, placing his hands in his lap as he imaged a blank room with a single couch. He conjured up an image of Sonic sitting alongside him. “Okay, got it. What’s next?”

“Now imagine telling this friend a secret, one so personal you’d only share it with them.”

Well that should be easy. Sonic knows me like an open book. I can’t keep anything from him…well…I guess everyone has their secrets, right?

“A deep fear works, too,” Knuckles added.  

Tails wiped his brow, sighing in relief.

Okay…easier.

In his mind’s eye, he imagined venting to his older brother, lifting the weight of the world from his shoulders and sharing this burden with him. Sonic didn’t mind, however, simply looking back at him as he allowed the young kitsune to unload all his past failures and insecurities, the bullying he experienced prior to meeting Sonic, growing up orphaned, and the complete and utter loneliness he felt for a significant portion of his life. He imagined the blue hedgehog wiping the tears from his puffy eyes before embracing him, providing reassurances which helped him feel better about himself.

“Okay,” Tails said, flicking away a small teardrop with a gloved finger. “What now?” Knuckles looked forward, staring at the glistening gem before them.

“Imagine your friend has been replaced with the Master Emerald.”

“…huh?” It usually took a lot to confuse the prodigious kitsune, but he was dumbfounded beyond all measure.

“I know it sounds silly, but try it. Trust me…and the Master Emerald. Treat it like a friend. Form a bond with it. Only then will it help guide you forward.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a try.” Tails sighed once more as he erased Sonic and the imaginative room from his mind, replacing them with the stone shrine he currently occupied. He stepped toward the mystical gem in his head, placing both of his palms against its shimmering surface as he closed his eyes, allowing himself to repeat what he had mentally spoken to Sonic moments before.

Opening his eyes in the real world, the orange fox discovered that he was no longer sitting cross-legged on the stone floor but, rather, standing before the Master Emerald, his hands pressed against its shiny surface as they were in his imagination.

Tails wasn’t startled, though; for reasons unexplained, it felt destined…natural…as if it were meant to be.

“I’m sorry…” Tails closed his eyes once more, a tear rolling down either side of his face. “I know I don’t deserve this…but I…no…we need your help.” The young fox stepped as close as he could to the oversized gemstone, wrapping his arms around it while tears dripped through his muzzle, landing against and trickling down the Master Emerald’s smooth surface.

“We’ve relied on the Chaos Emeralds countless times in our fight against Dr. Eggman, but now he’s on the precipice of winning. Without your help, we won’t have enough time to find them all again.”

“So please…” Tails dropped to his knees as he rested his forehead against the surface of the gem. “…please help us.”

Knuckles watched from several steps away as Tails broke down against the Master Emerald, his shoulders moving up and down with the rhythm of his crying, his arms dangling from his sides as he kept himself propped up with his forehead pressed against the mystical gemstone.

“Tails…are you gonna b—” The red echidna froze as he watched Tails fall over. The young kitsune gripped his forehead with both hands as he groaned in a sudden bout of pain before rolling into a fetal position.

“Tails!” Knuckles rushed over to the orange fox, who instinctively wrapped himself within his namesakes, not responding to the red echidna’s calls. Gently pulling a tail outward, he witnessed as the fox lay on the ground unconscious, his muzzle damp with tears.

Knuckles placed a gloved hand against the fox’s neck. “Good…he still has a pulse.” Collecting himself, he scooped him up into his arms, cradling the orange kitsune like a baby. “Let’s get you inside.” The red echidna slowly made his way down the stairs, not noticing the green glow emanating from the Master Emerald as he walked back to his cabin.

*****

Tails slowly opened his eyes. He looked down at his body, sprawled along the hard, white surface below him.

“Ah geez, this place again?”

Standing up, the orange kitsune looked around to find nothing. Peering down at his utility belt, he was already one step ahead of his own chaos-induced dream, pulling out the cracked emerald detector and turning it on. When he pressed the button on top of the circular screen, though, nothing happened.

“That’s strange.” He pressed the button again. And again. A few more times. He shook it near his ear to see if a screw was loose before trying once more.

“Nothing.” The young fox sighed to himself as he widened his belt pocket with his free hand. Before he could slip the device back in, however, it crumbled in his hand, components and bits of plastic falling to the floor below.

“Ummm…that was weird.” He scratched the hair on his chin before advancing onward, leaving the debris behind.

“Okay…so with no detector…where am I supposed to go?” As if answering his call, the fox noticed a brown speck in the distance. Walking toward it, he was surprised and a bit amused by what he found.

“Really? I don’t even think they’re trying anymore.” The orange kitsune sat on the reclining chair, pulling the footrest up. A large plastic bowl materialized in his lap as the fragrant smell of mint pierced his nostrils. He reached a gloved hand within and grabbed a small, black Mobian Scout™ mint chocolate chip cookie between his fingers. Shrugging his shoulders, he threw the morsel into his mouth, a satisfying grin forming on his face as his lips were coated in black cookie dust.

“Who’d have thought cookies would taste so good in dreamland?”

Taking a few more bites, the fox looked around as the whiteness gave way to black. Tails was along for the ride, though, and wasn’t particularly afraid, his hand wrist-deep in the seemingly bottomless bowl of morsels at his disposal. Finally, an image appeared before him, like a holographic projection with no apparent source. It displayed flickering black and white dots, as if it were a television void of its analogue signal, before finally showing a discernable video.

A piece of cookie fell from Tails’ mouth as his jaw dropped. He watched as he witnessed himself getting captured by Dr. Eggman’s large mech, its mechanical hand wrapped all around the defenseless kitsune.

“Help me, Sonic!” The orange kitsune on-screen reached his arm upward, grasping at the air with his exposed hand as the rest of his body was held captive by Robotnik’s menacing creation.

“Tails!” Sonic was several yards away, panting with his hands against his knees as he looked up at the machine before him. He clenched his fists as he stepped forward.

“Ah ah ahh!” Eggman bellowed from a speaker on the outside of the mech. He sat comfortably in the mech’s control center located in its head. “One more move and the little fox gets it!”

“Damn you, Eggman…” Sonic said under his breath, his eyes locked on the metallic hand keeping his brother trapped in place.

“Wooahhooohoohooo! It looks like you’re in quite the pickle, Sonic! But I’m willing to make an offer…even with the likes of you.” Sonic glared up at the glass oval housing the mad scientist.

“Me, make a deal with you? Fat chance.” Sonic pulled the skin under his eye down with his middle finger while sticking his tongue out at Eggman, blowing a raspberry in the process.

“So that’s the game you want to play, huh? All right then…don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Robotnik snickered as he pulled a lever on his control panel.

“Ahhhhh! S…Sonic, h…help meeeee!” Tails’ screaming was muffled by the mech’s tightening grip.

“Oh no, Tails, buddy. Hold on!” Sonic gritted his teeth with rage as he watched the horror before him.

“Okay, Egghead. Release Tails, and I’ll do what you want.”

“Nah ah ahhh. Do you really think I’m that foolish? I want you to hand over the Chaos Emeralds first. With all seven in-hand, I could care less what happens to your ‘little brother’.”

Sonic grimaced as the evil doctor continued his laughter. Looking back at the metallic claw above, he noticed its grip slowly getting tighter, Tails’ voice no longer audible to the blue hedgehog below.

Present-day Tails felt as if he was about to vomit, tears rolling down his face as he placed a gloved hand against his belly.

Why would the Master Emerald show me this? What’s it trying to prove?

“Ohhh…” The fox gripped the fur on his belly as his eyes remained glued to the holographic projection, too transfixed to look away from this horrible memory.

“Well, Sonic,” Eggman maneuvered the mech’s free hand downward, resting on the ground next to the blue hedgehog as it bent its knees. “What do you say? All seven gems for Tails’ life? Seems like a fair offer if you ask me.”

Sonic stared at the ground as he considered his options. Finally, he looked up at the evil doctor, a sly smile on his face.

“Okay, Egghead. I’ll give ya want you want.”

“No, Sonic! Don’t do it!” The blue hedgehog could hardly hear the pleas of his young brother. For the first and last time in his life, Sonic chose to ignore him, instead reaching for a backpack sitting in the corner of the makeshift battle arena, an abandoned cityscape decimated by the evil mastermind, with a turquoise metal surface below him and an orange, sunsetting sky above. He unzipped the sack and poured its contents out into the palm of the mech’s free hand.

“Haha, glorious! I didn’t think you’d be so reasonable, but I guess even dimwitted rodents such as yourself can show intelligence every now and again.” He snickered at he slowly retracted the hand closer to the head of the mech, hoping to deposit them directly into the central console of the large robot.

“Not so fast, Eggman!” Sonic jumped forward, landing next to the mystical gems as the mechanical hand continued making its way back to Robotnik.

“What? What are you doing!” Eggman yelled, reaching for a lever to jiggle the blue hedgehog off of his creation.

“What am I doin’? Savin’ my little brother, of course!” Sonic breathed deeply as he closed his eyes, planting his feet firmly against the unstable, metallic hand below him as the Chaos Emeralds began to float and spin around him.

“No! I can’t believe this!” Eggman was yanking at either side of his long mustache as he watched Sonic undergo his signature transformation.

Raising his arms forward, and balling his hands into tight fists, Sonic let out a loud shout as the emeralds rapidly spun around him, eventually disappearing from view as the hedgehog’s azure blue coat was overtaken by a glowing shade of yellow. His eyes were red and his quills stood on-end as he glowered at the evil doctor, who still hadn’t managed to stop the mechanical hand from making its ascent closer to him.

“I think it’s time we put this bad boy outta commission.” Sonic smirked as he hurtled through the mech in several directions, slashing through its thick metal as the machine gradually began falling apart. Cutting the wrist which still gripped the young fox, Sonic teleported the metallic hand away from the fight, landing several yards away as the claw’s grip loosened. Tails’ body rolled from its palm and gently landed into Sonic’s arms, the golden hedgehog holding him like a parent caressing their newborn child.

“…S..Sonic…” This was all the young kitsune could say before he closed his eyes, falling out of consciousness. Super Sonic set him down on the ground, wrapping his namesakes around him for good measure before turning around and teleporting back to the fight, slashing the mech a bit more before the central command pod was all that remained.

Eggman’s wits returned as he pressed several buttons on his dashboard. The disguised Egg Mobile previously locked in place within the giant mech lifted itself out of the dilapidated, fiery mess and hovered above the ground. He soared up, attempting to flee the losing battle.  

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Sonic teleported in front of Eggman’s path. “So long, Egg-breath!” The ascended hedgehog flew in for a forceful kick, shooting the Egg Mobile and its inhabitant across the destroyed city.

“Cuuuuurseee thaaaaaat heeeeeedgehoooooog!” Eggman’s yell could barely be heard in the distance as he drew farther away from the heroic hedgehog, his departure solidified by the sight of a lone sparkle in the sky.

Sonic floated back down to the ground and walked toward the sleeping kitsune. Smiling to himself, he fell to one knee as exhaustion claimed him. His golden fur dissipated as his standard blue color returned. The seven Chaos Emeralds reanimate themselves around Sonic’s figure, spinning around rapidly before making their way upward. Holding still for a few seconds, the mystical gems shot across the sky in seven different directions.

Sonic watched the emeralds scatter before falling to his belly and crawling toward the ruined metal hand. Gripping its mechanical fingers with labored breaths, he pulled himself up and pressed his back against its open palm, gently pulling the unconscious fox toward him. Placing his little brother in his lap, Sonic wrapped his arms around Tails’ torso, his hands resting within the namesakes still wrapped around him as he rested his back against the mechanical paw. The blue hedgehog closed his eyes, allowing his weariness to take hold.

The holographic video faded away as the darkness around the orange kitsune gave way to piercing white light once more.

The young kitsune still felt nauseous as he pushed the footrest back into the recliner and walked into the white plains of nothingness.

“Why’d you show me that, huh? What are you trying to prove?” Staggering along for several yards, Tails gripped his belly once more before dropping to his knees, breathing heavily.

“Open your heart, Tails…calm yourself…face your fears…and be honest with yourself.”

“What?” Tails squinted, unable to see the woman behind the familiar feminine voice.

“Trust your feelings, Tails. Only then will you find what you seek.”

The fox fell backward, landing on his behind as he used his gloved hands to keep his back upright.

“Well,” Tails started, staring into the empty void before him. “I…yes…I was scared…I felt hopeless…defenseless…and…” a fresh round of tears began to form around the fox’s eyes. “...worthless…”

The fox waited for a reply, but he heard none. Wiping away his tears, he forced himself up, planting his feet to the ground.

“…but not anymore.” Tails raised his fits into the air. “Sonic taught me it’s okay to be scared…okay to be frightened…okay to admit I need help.” He sighed as he looked downward, closing his eyes in deep thought. “…doubt, hopelessness, fear, worry, regret…these are all normal feelings, and it’s okay to experience them. The real test is taking action despite these feelings.” Tightening his balled fists once more, he raised his head to the endless, white chasm above.

“Fear will no longer paralyze me!” Tails screamed as loud as his throat and lungs would allow, his entire body vibrating with the force. “Regret will no longer hinder me! And I will always work hard to save my friends and protect those in need!”

The kitsune fell back down, landing on his behind once more as he gasped for breath, clutching his aching belly with a gloved hand.

“Tails…”

The orange fox looked up to see a shadowy silhouette above him, the feminine shape of someone around his height, with dreadlocks behind her head and a blouse covering her waist. She placed her hand on Tails’ head.

“Please protect the emeralds from the evils that lie before you.”

Tails felt a sense of pressure growing against his forehead where the shadowy hand still rested.

“What’s going on?” The orange kitsune winced as the pain above his eyes grew exponentially.

“Ahhhhh!” He remembered this unpleasant sensation, the same he felt before entering dreamland. He pressed a gloved hand against his face as the pain rose.

The feminine figure planted a gentle kiss against his forehead, seemingly making the pain go away. Lightly blushing through his furry muzzle, the young fox fell to his side, his weary eyes closing as he slept against the cold, white surface, the silhouette fading into the void.

*****

I hope you all enjoyed Chapter 11!

A quick update on the poll: thank you to those who participated and reached out to share your thoughts! Consider the sequel to A Prelude to Chaos Control officially happenin’! It will still be some time until I finish with the Sonic X prequel, though! In speaking of which, Chapter 12 will be uploaded within the next two weeks, so stay tuned!

I’ve also been working on a side fanfic, spurred on by members of the r/milesprower Discord server that I help moderate. A hint: it will be quite fluffy. UwU

Click here if you’d like to join the server and hang out with fellow fans and fanfic enthusiasts! :P