#if so judging from the. snort. title i assume there's more stuff involving shadow?? so maybe more stuff from sa2 will be included

[infizero]

if "sonic x shadow generations" is actually real i will laugh my fucking ass off

[theserpentsadvocate]

I'm getting so much writing done right now that I'm actually considering starting to post one of the longfics, but I'm coming up against the problem of: then they'd need a TITLE.

So while I wrestle with that one, here are some lines I'm proud of (excited by, love and want to cradle like a baby, etc.) from what I'm working on right now, because I'm very excited and want to share what I'm working on. Feel free to ask for context/details/more; I love that stuff. (Or, since most of them are on here, feel free to guess the fic.)

“We were just cutting through. We’ll be out of your way in a minute and you can go back to… whatever you were doing.” He doesn’t quite manage to disguise the fact that he’s definitely assuming ‘whatever Weevil was doing’ is either a drug deal or some kind of grand theft construction equipment.

He tastes like himself, like bad coffee and three years apart, like salt from her tears.

Because Gia’s right. They’re all dead. Meg and Cervando and Duncan and every other kid on the bus, Ms Dumas and the driver, and every last drop of hope she had that things would be different, that she could crawl out from the shadow of Lilly’s death and be a person again, all dead.

This means Veronica can go straight from the airport to the hospital, sign all the paperwork while trying no to look at her mother’s slack face. She’s still breathing, but Veronica knows that’s a lie. The doctors explained it very thoroughly. And Veronica’s all about the truth. So.

He pulled back a little, enough she could get a look at his face, which was displaying an emotion somewhere between annoyed and pissed off. It was not, she imagined, how guys were supposed to look when they were having sex with you.

“I understand why she hates me. You’re her brother, she has to be on your side. But why is she mad at you?” Eli snorts with something like bitter amusement. “Because I ran off her cartel hitman boyfriend, and now he won’t call her.”

Well done, Frebec, he thought. Couldn’t stop finding the worst in the situation, could you? Well, now the worst in the situation has found you.

Maybe it’s just that this is what she does – take on losing battles because she feels sorry for someone, dig around for a sordid truth even when there’s an easy, palatable answer.

“So! Spinach ravioli bake! We got the spinach! We got the ravioli! We got the… bake!” He pointed dramatically to the oven.

Sometimes Rita acted as if he could have avoided the whole thing by not being the kind of person people planted guns on, as if the business and the mortgage and the high school reunion counted for nothing, as if a Latino man with tattoos who stopped to help Celeste Kane wouldn’t have been shot if he didn’t have a record.

“Why would you want to date a guy who can’t handle you asking him out?” “Because I care more about getting laid than feminism?” Rhianna offered, half-apologetically.

God, this had been a mistake. What was she doing rifling through people’s personal lives like this was something she had any authority to make judgements on? She wasn’t even a junior in high school, how was she supposed to judge if this made Lilly more or less safe, if it meant that Eli Navarro had a disgust of abusive men or just that he was horrifically violent when provoked, if justice had been served to anyone involved in the Pereira case.

The semi-darkness and the looming equipment and the cool night air had made them feel young and invincible, probably for the last time.

She couldn’t have stopped it. There’s nothing she can do to stop him from doing what he wants, but here she is, tidying up toys in the living room of a known criminal, wiping down the kitchen table of someone under arrest for gang activity, singing a lullaby to the daughter of the man who came home late with bloody hands, who threatened a material witness in his own trial, who served three months for assault because the DA couldn’t prove murder. That’s a choice she made.

Even her hair was a mess, floating every which way like the girl in the mirror was some sixties flower child come to a bad seventies end.

He was too busy trying to figure out if he should intervene and how he should intervene, which was hard enough after a life of trying to stay out of other people’s problems, even without worrying about the ramifications of outing himself to Jade’s gangbanger ex and his… yacht gang? Was that a thing?

Hector shrugs uncomfortably. “You know. I mean, come on, man. You yelled at Molly Fitzpatrick that you loved him in front of the whole school.”

Maybe that’s that. She doesn’t really believe that, but she feels so drained and hollow, an empty casing stripped of meaningful parts, that it pulls her in anyway. Maybe that’s all, and she can stop trying. She lets herself believe that for thirty-five minutes, until the muted roar of the motorcycle dispels it like so much dust.

With all her friends dropping her like a hot potato at best and sleeping with her boyfriend at worst, it was weirdly nice that the scary stranger she was revenge-fucking cared about whether or not she was in pain, even when he was pissed off at her for being a lousy lay. And wasn’t that a hell of a summary of her life at the moment.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, I have to tell him, but I don’t even know… having a kid is crazy, right? I don’t even really want to, and anyway it’ll screw up our friendship, and it was bad enough after we slept together; it got all weird for a bit and I really missed him, even more than I thought I would. Dealing with this would be so much worse, and I don’t know… I felt pretty good about getting an abortion when I thought it was Evan’s kid, but now it feels kind of weird, and I don’t even know if he – what?” Mac’s eyes had been getting wider and wider as Veronica spoke, and now that her mouth was hanging open it wasn’t possible to ignore it any longer. “Veronica,” Mac squeaked. “Did you sleep with Wallace?”

The man in the chair beside the bed doesn’t even look like her friend. All the Weevil-ness has bled out of him, and he’s just… Eli.

"And tell your thug boyfriend to stop stealing my mail!" "I don't know how he's doing that from an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific."

Ophelia is soft and sweet, sniffing slightly in her sleep as if she hasn’t ever really entirely stopped crying since she watched her mother die, but she snuggles up to Veronica as if she’s safety, and Veronica feels like a fraud.

Duncan is dead, just like Lilly, and he’ll never hold her again, or make stupid jokes about curveballs, or remember his sister. He won’t see Aaron Echolls go to prison and he won’t graduate from high school and he won’t become the world’s most reluctant president. He’s dead and she’ll never see him again.

The feelings didn’t even have the decency to take turns, they just swallowed her all at once, contradicting each other, and it made her feel crazy.