#if you use the small text for anything i automatically do not respect you. its so hard to read and for why.

[shitty-proendo-blackout-posts]

⚠ this post was created by an ant ⚠

[elysianslove]

the little things ; haikyuu boys

synopsis; the little things he does that show just how much he loves you

pairings; karasuno x reader, aoba johsai x reader, fukurodani x reader, nekoma x reader, shiratorizawa x reader

genre; fluff

warnings; will make u hate being single <3

karasuno ━━

sugawara koshi; whenever your hair gets caught in anything, he’s so gentle yet quick at fixing it. if your hair is long, and you pull a bag or a shirt and your hair gets tucked in, he’ll wordlessly pull it out. if your hair is short and a bracelet or zipper gets caught he just continues whatever he was doing (talking to someone else for e.g.) while helping you out. also always makes sure your hair isn’t bothering you; if you’re leaning over writing something, he’ll always tuck it behind your ear so lovingly ahhh

daichi sawamura; massages. he’s descended from heaven for this purpose only. his hands are rough and like hard on your muscles, but it’s so perfect. he’ll approach you when you’re in school sitting anywhere, from behind, and just knead his hands into your muscles for a few seconds. euphoric. or if you live together, he always greets you with back/shoulder/neck massages in the bathtub hvjkwkd.

nishinoya yuu; always makes you try his food. always. whether it’s with a group of people or just you two, he just goes “hey babe open ur mouth” with this face 😏 bc he’s cheeky, and just shoves a mouthful of food. spoiler alert, it’s always way too hot. but it’s just tradition at this point. he takes a bite of his food, decides if it’s worthy enough for your mouth or not, then just. yeah.

kageyama tobio; buys you a snack whenever he gets his milk. if you’re special special, he’ll buy you your own carton of milk. he goes up to the vending machine and automatically thinks of you when he sees your fave snack, and it’s like mindless at this point he just routinely does it. it still surprises you to this day, even when he’s so nonchalant about it.

tsukishima kei; kisses your forehead. tsukki is not too big on pda, and even privately he’s not very touchy feely either tbh. but just a simple peck on your forehead grounds you, and it’s a small reminder of the fact that despite his outward coldness, he really does love you. he rarely does it in front of others, but sometimes, he’ll indulge both you and him, and settle a small kiss on your temple just randomly.

asahi azumane; anime jesus always has a hair tie/clip carried around for you on his wrist/in his pockets. i mean he’s always needing them, he just stocks up when he starts dating you. somehow he’s always there when you’re frustrated with your hair all over the place what a savior. later on it evolves to him carrying around your scrunchie and yes the boys make fun yes he blushes but no he does not take it off.

tanaka ryunosuke; carries you on his back, or your things, when you’re too tired to walk. whether that be if you’re too tired because of your heels or you’re just lazy, he just loves helping you out what a respectful gentleman. honestly it just becomes that every time he sees you he like barricades over to you so quick and flips you onto his shoulder or spins you around. anyways. walking with tanaka means walking empty handed bc he will never let you carry anything. ( shifts pile of bags on one arm just to hold your hand ).

hinata shoyo; learns hairstyles to try on you. whether it be short hair or long hair, expect his youtube search history to look a lot like “how to make a french braid” or “cute hairstyles for short hair for your cute girlfriend”. he’s always so entranced by you and watches so carefully whenever you do anything on your hair, and he gets do excited whenever you let him try and he gets it right. also !!! a lot of the times you’ll sit between his legs and he’ll just softly card his fingers through your hair or lightly braid it.

yamaguchi tadashi; buys you flowers a lot. he doesn’t overdo it, just so it doesn’t lose its value and worth. but for example, mondays suck ass and he knows how much you hate them, so he always makes sure to either leave a single rose on your desk/in your locker or give it to you himself if he can. it’s so endearing and motivating honestly, and the constant reminder every once in a while is so cute. continues to do it even like 3 years in, which is so fkn sweet honestly.

nekoma ━━

kuroo tetsurō; plans the best dates. seriously. like not one moment spent with him is dull. i don’t think being with kuroo entails a high energy relationship, i just mean that even a walk in the park is fun with him. he also always knows when to plan a fancy dinner and when it’s just something casual. like he always puts in so much effort, gives 120%, for every date with you. is your favorite band/singer/artist in town? he’s got tickets. the weather is amazing? you’re going to the beach. you’re sleep deprived? nap dates. 10/10

kozume kenma; he teaches you how to play his games. the fact that he’s letting you touch the console in itself says enough, but whenever he buys a new one, and learns it thoroughly enough, he will always sit by you and teach you its ways. picture you sitting in his lap while he guides your hands <333 if you’re not a gamer, he’s actually v flattered by the fact you’re willing to sit through this w him. but if you are a gamer, expect daily competitions. oh and if you beat him? you’re dead to him :).

haiba lev; instead of reaching for things that you’re too short for to grab it himself, he just lifts you up lmfao. i mean w the way he teases yaku, i can imagine he’d be v teasing with you as well if you’re even an inch shorter than him. but fret not! it’s all in the name of love. he’s very loving though, and if he sees you struggling he’ll just wordlessly hoist you up from your waist or something. at first it’s terrifying, but later on it just makes you giggle cause he’s like so willing to do it and it’s effortless for him hehe.

yaku morisuke; always makes sure you’re taking care of yourself, but kinda aggressively? lmao anyways. like he’s always “babe have u eaten” and if u say no expect him to start yelling like “what do you mean no??? are you insane???” v dramatic but honestly <333 he’s always texting you after parting ways “did you get home safe” or on weekends where he cant meet you, he’s asking how it was, if you indulged yourself a bit, relaxed. it’s very sweet and he makes sure it’s not overbearing. he just wants his baby to be healthy and happy.

yamamoto taketora; walks on the side with the cars. it’s not a very noticeable thing, but you see it, and you recognize it. he makes sure he’s always walking where cars are speeding by, a hand on the small of your back guiding you away and to the other side of him. it’s the little notions of protectiveness like if he’s driving and stops suddenly, he’ll put a hand out to keep you from lurching forward, he pushes you gently out of the way before you bump into someone. things like that.

aoba johsai ━━

oikawa tōru; he doodles in your notebooks, or on your skin. if you have class with him, and sit next to him, he’ll always be doodling on your notebook like little hearts or stupid, cute things like your initials + his in a heart. or if you’re at a study date together, and you’re focused on your laptop screen, he’ll leave little encouraging messages on your notes for you to notice when you’re revising. sometimes you’ll be sitting with him at lunch or even if you’re out w him and a bunch of other people, and he happens to have a pen. expect a little smiley face on your inner wrist, or a heart plus his initials ( o.t. )

iwaizumi hajime; he helps you take off your make up/takes it off for you. if you’re too sleepy, he’ll just take the products he’s used to seeing you use and start following it step by step after he props you up next to the sink. while he stands between your thighs he just so gently starts rubbing at your skin and washing away the make up. if you’re already asleep, he’ll have to like google the steps oh my god im gonna cry hes so cute. if you don’t necessarily wear make up, then he’ll just help you do your nightly routine, or even your shower routine, like using a body scrub or a face mask or, bruh, even shaving lmfao.

hanamaki takahiro; saves everything you buy/send/make him. i mean everything. has literally over two thousand photos of you, all the polaroids or postcards are saved in a little box he has under his bed. anything you make him (unless it’s edible) he has. if you make him a small embroidery thing he will literally attach it to his sports bag or something. any chain you make him is automatically added to his keychain. that flower crown you made with him on one of your first dates? he still has it. the flowers are dead but the memory loves babyyyy

matsukawa issei; carries extra clothes of his for you to borrow. hey have i mentioned that mattsun is big? 😃 because he is 😃. meaning regardless of your size or height or whatever, his clothes will drown you <3 i see him as preferring more oversized or just loose shirts rather than tight ones, so yk. on you???? if y’all are just hanging out and you even think about being slightly cold — here have five options of mattsun’s clothes to choose from. he always makes sure they smell like him too. it’s self indulgent really, because he loves the way they look on you, and he loves that it leaves a trace of his scent on you. territorial? i think yes.

fukurodani ━━

bokuto kōtarō; always hugs you like it’s the last time he’ll see you. sometimes, even if he doesn’t know it, you need his hugs badly. y’all are gonna try and tell me bokuto doesn’t give the best fkn hugs??? yeah get outta here with that bs. he SO does. he either kneels down and wraps his arms around your waist, picks you up, and spins you around, like he hasn’t seen you in 3 years, or he’ll just wrap his arms around your neck and pull your head to his chest, cradling it, and just sighing like he won’t see you for the next 3 years. his hugs always make you feel so much better, even if you weren’t feeling down to begin with.  

akaashi keiji; plays with your hands and caresses them. it’s the delicate feel and gentleness of it all. akaashi’s generally an anxious person, leaving him very fidgety. but once you two get together, and he starts being comfortable with you, expect to find your hand always between the two of his, just fondling with him. he’ll trace random figurines on the back of your hand, or have his fingers ghost over your wrist and up to your fingertips. if his hands are especially shaky, expect him to just grab one of your yours and hold it tightly between the grasp of two of his. it conveys trust, and all you have to do is kiss his knuckles gently and he’s melting.

konoha akinori; he has your reminders app linked with his, and sneaks in small, motivating messages. every once in a while you’ll get a notification from the app that tells you to drink water or have a snack (or text konoha he’s bored and he misses you). also always sends you pictures to distract you from stress. like it could literally just be a picture of him smiling with a thumbs up and you’d just ,,, melt bc you love him so much.

shiratorizawa ━━

ushijima wakatoshi; he has so many plants that are named after you, or your nicknames, and he’s like so gentle with them too. like strokes their petals and speaks to them so softly, the same way he does with you. you’re honestly so curious how he hasn’t run out of names, but he’s just a genius like that. whenever you go over to his place, and he’s bought a new one, he’ll take your hand and guide you to where it’s growing and just be like “look it’s baby y/n” and you just 🥺🥺🥺

semi eita; he has a playlist on his phone, that’s constantly being updated, for you and him to listen to. the first time he showed it to you, you were stargazing and he took out his phone and headphones and was like “i made a playlist for you wanna list” and every part of your body lit up in flames im not joking. now, a lot of the times, you’re coming back home on a train, and your head is on his shoulder and you’re sharing headphones listening to the playlist. when either one of you is driving you’re blasting it (a lot of the playlist is the hsm soundtrack)

satori tendō; tendo reads people so well, and being in a relationship with him means he will read you so well. so a lot of the times, in social situations, he’ll recognize the signs of you wanting to leave, for example, or if someone’s bothering you, he’ll know exactly how to approach it too. this also entails having a lotta inside jokes hehe, and also just like. talking with your eyes. yk that thing. yeah. all you have to do is look at him a certain way, and he just knows exactly what you just said.

goshiki tsutomu; he buys the both of you this small plushie, and whenever you’re missing each other you just. squish it. and he squishes his. he would rather die than let anyone know this, but you’re not too keen on letting anyone know yourself tbh. it’s just this little thing you have, and it means a lot more to you than just this. when he first bought it he was like “look we have matching plushies” and you passed away on the spot ❤️

shirabu kenjirō; loves trying out new recipes with you. he’s not too big on cooking or baking, but there’s just something about doing it with you that really — hits the spot yk. nowadays, whenever he comes across a new recipe on social media that he thinks you’ll like he just automatically sends it to you like with no words no texts just the post and you’re like “OMG CAN WE DO THIS” and he’s like “why else would i send it. yes we can :)” hvskwkeke

end note;  thank you sm for the love on my last two posts!! i’m glad you guys enjoyed them sm. if you have any requests, they’re open and i’m happy to deliver, mwah!

[reigenomic-moving]

Wayne's statement on the racist caracatures in last nights stream and the makeship plushie

Image ID's under the cut

hey everybody. last night's stream was a weird one. the things that went down when we tried to play Bullet Roulette were not great. it made us as a team realize that we need to put our foot down and make a statement. about last night, and a lot of other things. what you're about to read is not only my words, but those of the entire team.

the first thing i should get out of the way is this: the caricatures that appeared in Bullet Roulette suck, and we're all disappointed that one of our favorite old VR games has that bullshit in it. we all made the fact that we thought it was shitty as clear as we could last night while we were playing. we tried to reset the lobby 3 times to fix the bug that forcibly made us all be that model. it did not work. we tried to keep playing it for a little while and then give it one last try. which, of course, did not work. what took place afterwards is what we'll be talking about here.

the reaction a small group of you had to these events was disappointing, and in some cases, unacceptable. we are not upset with native americans who were uncomfortable with the caricatures, we are upset with those of you who instantly demonized us for not 'turning off the game immediately'. the reason we as the streamers and the mods repeatedly asked everyone to 'move on' is because we acknowledged what we had just experienced in the game was wrong, and condemned it. we expressed how we felt about the models out loud multiple times. while unproblematic media exists, there is a lot of media that has problematic elements in it. it's not great, but that's the way things are. things are not always black & white. the expectation that the moment an unsavory concept is encountered in something on stream that we drop what we're doing and shut off the program is absolutely unreasonable.

if we run into problematic content, do not assume we automatically endorse it just because we did not remove it from the screen immediately. we can still experience it as a whole while acknowledging what's wrong with it. take LISA, for instance. I loved what I played of that game, and I know a large majority of you guys loved those streams too. LISA has problematic shit in it. early on in those streams we encountered a character that was a racist caricature of a black man. we acknowledged that it fucking sucked, and we kept playing. and both the crew and chat were able to continue maturely while acknowledging that the content was problematic.

while this is only somewhat related, i might as well also address the makeship situation, and those of you who came after me for deleting their initial statement. I deleted it because it was bad. that e-mail was an apology from the worker to me, not meant as a public apology. it didn't approach the situation properly. I was scrambling to get something up to address the concerns while i was in the middle of a 24 hour multi day road trip (one whose existence I had to hide for the stream gag), I just took whatever makeship would give me. when I actually had a little bit of time to sit down and read it, and read what some of you had to say about it, I realized that it didn't actually mean anything. I deleted it, and spoke to my handlers at makeship, and informed them about the biggest issue with that shitty anti-centrism plush: what was essentially a masked swastika next to a star of david. if you look up the original designs of that stupid ball, you can find that it actually had a swastika on it, and the creator hid that fact from team members at makeship by changing it in the concept art he shared with them. it might be hard to believe, but their team genuinely did not know about this. and they did not consider why that plushie was as shitty as it was. after I informed them and talked it over, they removed the plushie from their website completely and decided to not work with that creator going forward. their team thanked our campaign for bringing them to the realization that they need to more properly vet the creators they work with and the origins of their designs. what disappointed me in this scenario were those of you who assumed the worst about me just because i had not made a statement about it while i was doing my best behind the scenes to work things out.

we also know that being publicly accessible artists & entertainers comes with a fair amount of vulnerability through exposure, however the amount of invasions of privacy and harassment a lot of us have experienced in the past year is worth taking note of. we are people. what if you woke up to dms from people saying they found your name and your phone number? what if you got a text from a stranger saying they found your information? how would you feel? these are questions you need to ask yourself as a viewer even if you've never gone that far. these are things that have actually happened to us.

being a fan comes with as much responsibility as being a creator; just because you are consuming what we make does not make this a one way relationship where you're invisible. what you do and say is being felt by actual humans, and the information you share or try to get not only affects us but the people we know. it has at times been so invasive and ridiculous that some of us have considered stopping completely. as a fan and a viewer, your responsibility is to respect us as much as you would respect any other human being; putting us up on pedestals to the point where some of us get treated like objects or things is the absolute opposite of respect and we've mentioned this a few times. we will be taking much stronger action on these matters from here on out; please observe how you view us and ask yourself if you'd look at a friend or family member the same way. if you wouldn't, reconsider your relationship with what we make.

some of you hold me and the crew on a pedestal in a way that makes us deeply uncomfortable. this isn't the first time we've experienced something like last night. it has happened on other team member's streams. the hostility we are met with when we encounter something unsavory on stream is ridiculous. after shutting down the game, seeing a few of you in the chat screaming at us, attacking our characters, invalidating all of our values and past deeds as a team over encountering unexpected bigotry in a game and condemning it, not perpetuating it ourselves, is infuriating. to all of us. you do not have the right to harass us over something like this. coming into our DM's and repeating yourselves, accusing us of lying about values and calling us awful people is harassment. it is extremely immature. and it is behavior we no longer want in this community. we are human. we aren't meant to be your perfect social/political pillars.

when these things happen, you know it sucks, we know it sucks, we all know why it sucks, and while we will always point it out when we see it, the expectation of us to derail our show and explain to you why its bad and apologize for it being on the screen is not an expectation we will meet. acknowledge, and move on. a statement does not always need to be made. going forwards, we'll be increasing moderation measures in regards to the harassment of crew/staff and the mitigation of events like these in the future. thank you for understanding.

- All of Radio TV Solutions & The WRTV Mod Team

[pokemoncreepypasta]

Forever Mine

[STORY SOURCE]

I live in one of those small towns with a big community. It feels like everyone knows each other, and parents would visit their friends and leave their kids to mess around with each other. Classes in school weren’t very large.

So when there’s news about a kid dying, it travels at god-speed. 

Everyone at school kept talking about the death of this girl who was probably a year behind me.

I didn’t know her personally. I wouldn’t have even been able to tell you her name if everyone wasn’t talking about her.

I didn’t want to pick up gossip about how she died. I decided to attend her funeral myself. Not because we were friends or anything, but I did want to show my respect for this girl and her family.

The local funeral home was within biking range of my house, so I set off.

I sat awkwardly as I noticed her parents. I’m not usually very good at picking up feelings from people, but I could tell that beyond their grief was disappointment and maybe even hostility.

They made me wonder what she was thinking about before she died.

After she was buried, I hung around the cemetery. I’d wished I brought flowers with me, but decided I’d give her some the next time I stopped by.

Around this time, I had been aiming to get a Sky Forme Shaymin, since it was one of my favorite Pokémon back then.

I had caught a wild Shaymin using the "Pokémon Modifier" cheat code. I was terrible at coming up with creative names. But then, I remembered the name of the girl and thought it would suit a Shaymin rather well.

“Skye.”

Little did I know that this would invite strange things to start happening to my game.

I wanted to keep this Shaymin in its Sky Forme whenever possible, so I planned on keeping it in my team 24/7, only playing during daytime, etc. I was a dirty cheater who liked putting illegal moves on my Pokémon, so I taught Skye to use Fly.

At the time, I didn’t know you needed to catch the Shaymin in Flower Paradise to receive the Gracidea Flower, so when I talked to the blonde girl NPC in Floaroma Town, I had no idea why she wouldn’t give it to me.

So I was stuck with a Shaymin that knew Fly. It was weird, and I never really grew all that attached to it. Eventually I boxed it, forgot I had it, and released it without thinking.

The next time I booted up the game, I got this message.

“The save file is corrupted. The previous save file will be loaded.”

My first instinct was panic. I didn’t have any time to think or process the initial message, because all my hours were gone. With nervous anticipation, I started up the save file to see what the damage was.

To my surprise, I found myself on an incomplete Seabreak Path. The south path to Route 224 was cut off, with a featureless Shaymin staring vacantly over the edge.

I checked my party, and found none of my team members.

Only a level 100 Dusknoir with the move Follow Me.

Very useful, I thought. I’d have to boot up my Action Replay to teach this thing Fly in order to get off the island later.

Checking my items, I noticed everything was gone, save for a single PokéBall and an Escape Rope. Neither of which seemed particularly helpful for getting me off this island.

Out of curiosity though, I decided to see if Shaymin would be at Flower Paradise. I started my trek north, lamenting the loss of my bike.

To my surprise, Shaymin was there, despite never having Oak’s Letter or triggering the cutscene with it. Its face was obstructed by flowers, but it seemed like its pink flowers were missing just like the one I saw before.

I spoke to the Shaymin, and a message appeared.

“I remember you.”

“But… You don’t remember me, do you?”

The wild Shaymin attacked, and my heart stopped at its name.

“Skye appeared!”

Featureless, like before.

I felt a knot in my stomach, not even caring about the game. Something was very clearly wrong with it, and I wanted to stop playing. But I decided I was already taking pictures of the weird stuff that was happening, and I wanted to document it in full.

Steeling my resolve, I went about my options.

Dusknoir only knew Follow Me, so it was useless to weaken the Shaymin.

Remembering the PokéBall I had, I tossed it at the Shaymin.

Most people would be ecstatic to catch a Shaymin with full HP in a PokéBall on their first try, but I got the feeling that the game was rigged. There wasn’t any triumphant music playing either, which didn’t help my feelings about it.

I tried checking my newly caught Shaymin, but my game froze upon checking my party.

Upon restarting the system and starting the game up, this message appeared.

“My heart is corrupted. Please save me.”

My save file was gone for real this time. The trainer’s name was “SINNER”.

I live in a pretty religious community, so reading this made me ill at ease.

Starting up the game again, I found myself in the Lost Tower, playing as a featureless Shaymin.

My only Pokémon was the same Shaymin, named SINNER, knowing Fly, Scary Face, Fake Tears, and Spite.

A text box appeared when I tried to leave the tower.

“Today’s the day.”

It pushed me back, preventing my exit. The only option I had was to ascend.

No random encounters happened, and all the trainers wouldn’t interact with me.

It went this way until I went to the top floor. I’m pretty sure there isn’t supposed to be a man and woman NPC standing in this spot.

"There’s nothing left to say.”

Interacting with them just prompted this text.

It was here that I noticed a staircase that wasn’t supposed to be there.

I found myself on the top of the tower. I stepped into a scripted event, and the Shaymin faced the edge without my prompt.

"It's a long way down... Are you ready?"

Hoping for some way out of this, I wanted to say “no”, so I could cheat my way out of the tower and get my game back to normal. However, upon selecting it, this text appeared.

"You've held back for long enough. It's time to go."

“SINNER used the Escape Rope.”

A battle started against the same Dusknoir as before. I was intimidated to go against a level 100 Dusknoir, but then I remembered its only move was Follow Me, so it was harmless.

I realized that if I let SINNER faint, I could go to the last Pokémon Center and escape the tower.

I used Spite, thinking that if I reduced Follow Me’s PP, the Dusknoir would use Struggle and OHKO my Shaymin.

“The wild DUSKNOIR used Follow Me!”

“SINNER used Spite!”

“But there was no target...”

Dang it.

Deciding to experiment, I came to the conclusion that there was no harm in screwing around with SINNER’s attacks until DUSKNOIR ran out of PP. I chose Fly.

“The wild DUSKNOIR used Follow Me!”

“SINNER used Fly!”

“The wild DUSKNOIR used Follow Me!”

“SINNER kept going and crashed!”

Not the KO I was expecting, but I took it nonetheless.

The game, of course, crashed as soon as my Shaymin’s cry played, leaving nothing but pleasantly ear-grating screeching sounds.

I decided to take a break from playing for a moment to process what I just witnessed. I had a lot to digest.

The only conclusion I came to was that ghosts are real and this was the same Skye as the girl who died. Which would sound insane if I didn’t have the pictures to prove it.

I choked back tears. I was afraid. Why did Skye want me to see this?

I wanted to put the game down and be done with it. But if she had a message to give me, then I felt like I had to see it through to the end.

I guess I vainly hoped she’d pass on and find peace if I listened to what she was trying to say.

Another message when I started the game up again.

“I can’t fly. I tried to.”

I found myself at Spear Pillar. The staircase to the Hall of Origin was in front of me.

My exit was gone, so I just went straight to Arceus.

A level 100 Arceus stood before me.  

Instead of sending out my Shaymin, it stayed in the field. It was now bleeding. Its status said it was fainted, but it was still able to battle somehow.

I felt cornered. There was no way a level 14 Shaymin could take on something like this. I tried to use Fly, hoping it would give me the same result as before.

“Can’t use that here.”

It wouldn’t let me use the move. Instead, I just outright try to flee.

“Can’t escape!”

“ARCEUS used Judgment!”

I braced for impact...

“The wild ARCEUS’s attack missed!”

...But was pleasantly surprised to see it miss.

“I’m not ready yet.”

The game made me flee automatically.

The screen faded to black.

“I’m not ready. I’m not ready.”

“I’m scared.”

When the screen faded back to the overworld, I found myself in the Distortion World. The portal that takes you back to the main world was gone, so the only thing I could do was explore.

I found another Escape Rope while looking around.

It was the only thing noteworthy I could find, so I started trying to think of ways to get out of here.

I tried using Fly, since SINNER still knew it.

“There’s nowhere to fly to.”

Figures.

Trying to test my other options, I went to my bag and tried using the Escape Rope.

Of course, the “There’s a time and place for everything” message still appeared.

Deciding to mess around until I got results, I went to give the Escape Rope to SINNER.

“Don’t suppose you know what to do with this?” I muttered.

The game crashed again, and it assaulted my eardrums once more. I sharply inhaled, wondering if I touched a nerve.

I took a deep breath and started the game again.

My character’s name was now Skye.

I started in Floaroma Town. The first thing I did was rush to the Pokémon Center to check on my Pokémon in the PC. Of course, they were all gone.

I’d grieve for them later, though. Maybe Skye would be nice to me and give them back.

While I was in the center, I figured it might’ve been good to heal the faint status off of the Shaymin.

Sure it is. Glad you can tell when something is suffering, nurse.

Heading outside, I talked to the blonde NPC.

“You should always give flowers to someone who has passed away.”

“It’s rude not to.”

“You got the Gracidea!”

I was suddenly feeling very guilty for not leaving flowers before.

Wondering if I could fix the poor Shaymin in my party if I used the flower on her, I went to try it.

“It won’t have any effect.” 

Of course not.

The blonde NPC turned into my Shaymin. I spoke to her.

“That won’t help me.” 

Yeah, I thought not.

At a loss of ideas on what to do next, I absentmindedly made my way to Valley Windworks and walked around in the grass.

A wild Sky Forme Shaymin appeared.

I sent out Skye, of course.

I chose the fight option, and the battle continued without me selecting a move.

“The wild SHAYMIN used Reflect!”

“Skye’s rage is building!”

“Skye used Cut!”

“She hurt herself in her confusion!”

The Sky Form Shaymin was knocked out in one hit, despite the game telling me Skye had hurt herself.

Back on the overworld, I found the mangled parts of the Sky Forme Shaymin lying in the grass. I inspected them.

“Please put me back together.”

It gave me another prompt, and I chose yes.

The screen faded to black.

And then Skye appeared again in a black abyss, with Skymin ears and flower. My trainer was nowhere to be seen.

I checked my party to see that Skye had changed again. Her cry sounded like a distorted mix of Shaymin’s two forms.

I went back to the overworld and was unable to move. Instead, a dialogue box appeared.

“Can you hear me?”

"Thank you for caring about me.”

"I can fly now.”

“Because...”

“I love you.”

My heart skipped a beat. My hands began to shake.

“You must care about me too, right?”

“So... I’m going to stay with you.”

“I won’t leave, not without someone who loves me.”

“Will you fly away with me?”

My shaky hands went to say no. I didn’t want to be like her.

"...”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ll change your mind.”

“You’re mine now.”

“You’re mine forever.”

With that last line, the game froze.

The first thing I did was take the game out of the system. I decided to drop off all my Pokémon games at the nearest GameStop. I didn’t want her talking to me anymore.

So why do I feel like she’s still here?

[curedeity]

Aquario's Rest

Summary: Hikaru and Madoka stay late at work one night, not the first and certainly not the last.

    The last rays of the sunset had already disappeared over the horizon, and the light switch had been mindlessly flicked on as Hikaru had continued to work. Her fellow workers had slowly left the office, one by pair, packing up their things and going home for a good night’s sleep. 

    Hikaru, of course, remained, putting the finishing touches on next month’s tournament schedule. 

    Footsteps echoed through the empty office, harmonizing with the clack of her fingers on her laptop. Ryo stepped out of his room and sighed as he peered over at Hikaru at her desk. She blinked at him, blearily.

    Most workers would be happy to leave as soon as their shift was over. Ryo didn’t reproach any of them this. He himself didn’t like working late, a good work-life balance was necessary. He had a son to spend time with. Hikaru, on the other hand, had deeply thrown herself into her work for the past year.

    Finding her in the office as the clock ticked closer and closer towards the new day had almost become a routine, like when Gingka used to stay up late at night, watching stars with Hyoma, and Ryo would have to collect him. Gingka was easier to get home than Hikaru though, who even sleep-deprived could form good arguments.

    Of course, there were some easy ways of dealing with this, and Ryo, in all his fatherly-instinct, had discovered them.

    He snatched the keys to the office off Hikaru’s desk and quickly stepped away. “Looks like I lost my keys today, mind if I borrow yours? I can offer you a ride home while I lock up the office.”

    “Or you could go home and I could lock up, Director,” Hikaru merely spared him a tired glare. Hikaru was a smart teenager, but she also had no qualms about sleeping at her desk. So in that respect, Hikaru was a very short-sighted teenager.

    “But I really should be going now, and because of a small emergency we had to miss our 5pm meeting. You said you wanted to inform me about stadium management? It would be much more efficient to do that in the car.” Hopefully it would’ve taken long enough that Hikaru wouldn’t try to tell him right now.

    Hikaru sighed and rubbed at her eyes. Glancing out the window, the sky was inordinately clear tonight. She could see the large crab constellation taking up the sky, cancer in all its summer glory. It was a rare occasion to be able to see the stars so beautifully in the city, going home and stargazing would be nice…

    She closed her laptop and stuffed it into her bag. “Alright Director,” she told the man who seemed hellbent on adopting her. “You win.”

    Ryo smirked and tossed the keys into the air, catching them again in a victorious motion. “You mind checking to see if anyone else is hanging around while I start locking up?” It was almost a rhetorical question, with how automatic the roles were. It took about ten minutes to lock up the whole building, and everyone had to be cleared out.

    Hikaru padded through the hallways and started checking the rooms.

    Faint rays of the moon lit the hallways, and Hikaru’s heels clicked as she walked. During the height of the workday, people would stop her as she walked from place to place, firing quick questions at her as they recognized it would probably get them a quicker response than an email. It was a lot of work, but Hikaru had found herself quickly rising to the challenge and excelling. Her memory had always been great, and there was some part of her that adored being able to help plan and manage this complex operation.

    It was slowly becoming her passion, in the way battling had once been.

    Besides, while battling, there were some things she had ignored.

    The engineering department wasn’t quiet when she entered. This was normal, the whir of computers was a constant here during the day. Now, the room was filled with soft snores. 

    The smile that crossed Hikaru’s face was automatic, but she made no effort to remove it as she approached her sleeping friend. Madoka was slumped over her desk, her head laying on her arms. Her laptop was still on, its light flickering across Madoka’s form. A bey lay disassembled in front of her.

    Madoka was just as hard worker as Hikaru, and late days at work, coffee breaks in early mornings, had quickly strengthened the bond between the girls. Hikaru… Hikaru loved working with her, the way Madoka would excitedly wave whenever Hikaru entered the department, the way she’d quickly babble about whatever she was working on.

    The way they’d walk home together sometimes.

    “Madoka,” Hikaru giggled as she crouched beside her friend, shaking her shoulder lightly. “It’s time to close up.”

    Madoka groaned and buried her head deeper into her arms. Her body shivered slightly as it awoke, it was a rather cold night for the summer.

    “Come on Madoka, the Director will give us a ride home,” Hikaru continued to encourage her drowsy friend. 

    Madoka glanced up at Hikaru with half-lidded eyes, her face the picture of misery. “Five more minutes,” she begged.

    Hikaru slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into raucous laughter. “I’ll let you nap on my shoulder in the car,” Hikaru offered between huffs of amusement. Her face burned as her semi-joking suggestion sank in. Were they close enough friends to do this?

    Yet Madoka seemed completely unaware as she unsteadily stood up. She swayed on her feet, eyes unfocused, and Hikaru instinctively threw an arm around her for balance. “Let’s get you home,” she whispered softly, leading her friend out the door.

    “Hey Hikaru,” Ryo whisper-called from down the hall, raising a hand in a lackadaisical wave. “You ready to- Oh, hey Madoka.” He gave the tired mechanic a smile, taking in her complete exhaustion. “Looks like someone else was working for too long too.”

    Hikaru and Madoka fixed him with identical glares, Madoka’s scariness coming out at full-force.

    “Sir, can you just take us home?” Hikaru sighed, scrubbing a hand down her face.

    The key jangled in the lock as Ryo locked the final door behind them, whistling as he shoved it in his pocket. “Come on, we’ll drop Madoka off first,” he announced as he led them to his car.

    Hikaru had ridden home with her father-figure many times before, as he insisted on driving her if it got too late. Normally, she took the passenger seat, ostensibly to make sure Ryo wasn’t in control of the music. Today though, she slipped into the back with Madoka.

    The stars outside were beautiful through Hikaru’s hazy vision. Her cheek was probably smudging the window as she leaned against it, but Ryo wouldn’t mind a bit of dirtiness. They twinkled brightly against the backdrop, like someone had spilled glitter over construction paper. Like a child had designed the world to be their perfect vision.

    A head fell on her shoulder, and Hikaru nearly jumped out of her skin. Thankfully, her body remained calm, like Madoka’s breaths as she slept on Hikaru. Hair drifted out, falling in front of her face. Her goggles sat askew. Peacefully, she dozed on, arm against Hikaru’s arm as warmth passed between them.

    Hikaru blinked down at her friend, breath torn from her lips. 

    Maybe the stars outside were beautiful, in a distant way. A perfection that could not hope to be imitated or reached. Hikaru wasn’t an astronaut, she’d never lay among the constellations.

    But it paled in comparison to the beauty of existing side by side with another. 

    Hikaru hoped she never forgot, and that she never remembered, because realizing every so often how amazing people were, how amazing having friends was…

    They pulled up outside the Beypit, Ryo twisting around in the driver's seat. “You need any help bringing her in?” His voice was so quiet it could not even be called a whisper. The night made them all silent.

    “Nah, I got it sir,” Hikaru replied, unbuckling her seatbelt and Madoka’s. Digging through her bag, she found a spare set of keys that Madoka gave most her friends. 

    “The Beypit is open to all of you,” Madoka stated confidently, pressing the cold metal into Hikaru’s hands, her warm fingers curling around.

    Madoka was small for her age, a shortie, as many of their friends affectionately called her. It was easy to lift her up and carry her to the door, carefully unlocking it while not jostling Madoka too much.

    The lights flickered on as Hikaru hit the switch, and she groaned as harsh illumination filled the shop. The sudden change pounded in her head, a headache for sure. But, she didn’t want to trip over anything while trying to navigate. It would be a disaster for both and Madoka to get hurt.

    The metal stairs creaked with rusted sighs as Hikaru walked down them. Laying Madoka down on the couch, she glanced around for a blanket. 

    Gingka slept on that couch often when he was in town. Hikaru would come visit and find them both hanging out in the basement. She… didn’t even know where Madoka’s bedroom was.

    How many times had Madoka fallen asleep at her desk here? Did she spend the entire night there, head buried in arms as she had been at the WBBA? 

    Hikaru threw a blanket over her shivering friend, watching her curl up under the new warmth. Should she check in on Madoka more often, make sure she was going to bed? Would that get her to be called a hypocrite?

    Maybe. 

    “Good night Madoka,” Hikaru breathed out into the air, silently walking back upstairs and out through the door.

    She slid back into Ryo’s car, ready to be taken home to her apartment. The glow of her phone filled the backseat as she penned a text to Madoka.

    “Night Madoka, hope you sleep okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[themonotonysyndrome]

Our Intertwine Dream

Another oneshot about Papa Lilia and Malleus with their human teenage son, Silver! I think I’m gonna turn this and the previous oneshot into a series while I’m still having fun writing ‘em and yeah, even if it’s a little late, I wanted to do something to celebrate Silver’s birthday. 

-

“Such a fair and gentle child you are. Quiet too.”

“...”

“My, my what a big yawn that was! Is it nap time already?”

“...”

“...How curious.”

“There you are, grandmother. Lilia said that it’s Silver’s feeding time now.” 

“Oh dear. The little one went out like a candle’s flame. Poor thing must be tired from playing.”

“Silver just woke up three hours ago.”

“Is that so? Say, Malleus dear, how about you and that Fae of yours stay in the castle for a couple more days. I would like to... investigate something.” 

“As you wish, grandmother...”

-

Silver wakes up when he heard his phone vibrated. Blinking a couple of time, he then rubs his crusty eyelids blearily before pushing himself up from the soft bed and sigh deeply. Dawn has made way for bright, morning rays to creep into his room despite the thick curtains.

When his phone on the bedside table vibrate again, Silver snatch it to check his text messages. 

Like any other day, Lilia’s attempt to wake him up for classes is by spamming his phone with a series of pictures that he find interesting or funny. Before, the Fae used to called his phone and sometimes even break through the door when he quickly realised that Silver would actively ignore the calls, but the few success that Lilia managed to get him out of the bed, Silver still ended up sleeping with his face planted inside a bowl of cereal. In the end, practically every one in Diasomnia knew that Silver will wake up whenever he can and the teaching staff of the school allows a little leeway because of his conditions. 

Today, Lilia is spamming his phone with pictures of Savanaclaws’ First Years students chasing each other on the field. Behind them, the sun made its slow ascension to the sky. 

Silver threw his phone on the bed and begin to get ready for the day. If he hurries, he can still make it to breakfast. Freshly showered and donning his uniform, he quickly check that he has his phone, magic crystal and wallet before leaving the dorm. The younger students loitering about the hallway and common room greet him good morning as he head towards the cafeteria.  “Who was that?” “That’s Silver-senpai. A Second Year student. He’s the one I told you about last week. You know, the senior that tutored me and the guys for History of Magic?” “The one that took a nap halfway?”

“Oh, Silver-senpai is always like that. I heard that he can sleep anywhere! But he’s really good at History of Magic though. I even got an A for my test!” 

Silver lets out a yawn as the conversation fades behind him. He had tried his best to stay awake during that tutoring session but the table looked as soft as his bed and before he knew it, the words on his text book look like worms and he blacked out. 

It was nice for the First Years to called Lilia when he was knocked out though. 

Today, the halls of Night Raven College are relatively peaceful. Friends huddled at the courtyard, taking pictures and laughing amongst themselves. A couple of Scarabia students are mingling with two Ignihyde seniors with their laptops out; probably a tutoring session. A Pomefiore student is humming to himself as he pick fresh flowers near the water fountain and a pair of Heartslabyul and Octavinelle students are playing cards; most likely UNO because one of the Heartslabyul student suddenly shrieked, “WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY GREEN!? YOU GUYS ARE CHEATING!” 

“Oh! Good morning, Silver-senpai!” Yuu suddenly greeted Silver just as he was about to enter the cafeteria. Behind the younger boy, he could smell fresh baked breads and strong black coffee wafting in the air. The smell is so strong that it’s probably enough to keep him awake for a whole day. “It’s rare to see you up so early!”

“I managed to wake up on time for once.” Silver reply with a shrug. “Might as well catch up on some classes that I’m lagging behind.” Sebek would scold his ears off if he caught Silver slacking in class, ever. Something about bringing shame and disgrace to Malleus and Lilia and honestly, Silver tends to tune out whenever Sebek started to rant about how great his parents are. 

“That sounds like a great idea Silver-senpai! I’m sure you’ll do well.” Yuu said with a cheer. For some reason, the boy is completely alone; no Grim or those two First Year Heartslabyul students that constantly flank his sides. Unaware of Silver’s musing, Yuu continue, “Anyway, I just saw Lilia-senpai and the others at the table near the hot drink section.” 

“Oh. Thanks. Guess I’ll see you around - ” Silver begins but then Yuu’s eyes suddenly blow wide and before Silver could ask what’s wrong, Yuu hurriedly interrupts him. 

“Ok, nice talking to you Silver-senpai, gotta go to class now! If anyone asks, I’m not here, ok? Bye-bye!” Yuu then ran off without even looking at him. Leaving Silver to stand alone awkwardly in front of the cafeteria’s entrance. 

“Well... that was something - ”

“Oh? If it isn’t Silver-san.”

“What a rare sight to see Jellyfish-san floating in the morning!”

The Leech brothers are smiling widely when Silver slowly turn around. It didn’t escape his notice that, Azul is not with them. Floyd tilts his head - rows of sharp teeth pokes out - and ask, “Say... you don’t happen to see our cute Shrimp-kun, have you?” 

“No.” Silver easily fibbed. Whatever is going on with the Leech brothers and Yuu (and probably Azul) is none of his concern. He decided to leave the twins be when they stare at him with an odd expression; as if trying to decide whether he’s lying or not. True to Yuu’s words, Silver easily spotted Lilia and the rest of their group when he zooms in on the drinks table. Sebek is furiously muttering to himself as he reads a textbook; pages constantly flipping. Lilia is checking his phone with a content smile and beside him, Malleus is diligently cutting his veggie omelette into small pieces. Plates of cold cut fruits, bread and pancakes along with juices and a cup of coffee for Lilia are spread on the table. 

The three of them occupy the large dining table despite how crowded the cafeteria is. 

“Good morning.” Silver greeted the group before taking a seat beside Sebek.

“Silver! You’re awake! Did Mr.Trein’s cat pictures woke you up?” Lilia teases. He tucks away the phone to cupped his face and grin lazily at him. 

“Had a weird dream.” Silver reply and made sure to thank Malleus when the Fae handed him the cut up omelette and a tall glass of orange juice before resuming his own breakfast. He waste no time and dig in. 

“Oh? What was it about?” 

“The face is a bit fuzzy but I was sitting on someone’s lap at a... garden, I think. She had a nice voice.” He said after sipping on his OJ. “It ended when I heard Malleus-sama’s voice.” 

Sebek jerk his head away from the textbook at that. Before he could demand what Silver meant, Lilia interjects with a hum. 

“That sounds too... normal to be a dream. More like a - ”

“A memory.”

Malleus put aside his napkin when the three of them turn their attention to him. He stares at Silver with a thoughtful expression. “It was a summer morning. I came to the garden when Lilia told me that you were with grandmother for the day.” 

Sebek is now in sheer awe - like usual when it’s anything related to Malleus - while Silver’s cheeks are dusted red as Lilia laugh, clutching his stomach in delight. “I remember that summer! It was Silver’s first time visiting the Castle of Thorns. You were such an adorable little one that Malleus’ grandmother insisted that we extended our stay.” Lilia then sigh fondly. “That was a nice summer...” 

And... there Lilia goes, off reminiscing Silver’s childhood. Silver quickly put a stop to it with an embarrassed cough. Lilia merely teases him some more in retaliation. Breakfast continues on until Sebek suggest they head to their respective classes now. Lilia and Malleus had P.E, Sebek went to join a crowd of First Year students drifting upstairs to the second floor; leaving Silver with his Alchemy class. 

He allows himself to be pull along by a couple of his classmates when they notice him rounding the corner. Silver finds it easy to join their conversation since it was about homework and soon enough, they chatted their way to the classroom. 

Mid conversation, Silver yawns. When he rub his watery eyes, something bright red accompany by a smile flash pass him. So quick and sudden, almost like a ribbon - 

“Silver-san?” One of his classmates call out when they notice that Silver had suddenly stop walking with them. “Is something wrong?” 

Silver blink; realise that he had automatically whip around to catch that flash of red but after looking at his sides, students in familiar uniform are mingling around him. No one stood out of the ordinary. 

“Just thought I saw something...” Silver slowly admits. There’s something nibbling at the back of his mind but it refuses to surface despite how hard Silver tries to remember. 

Classes passed through the day without a hitch. Silver finds himself staying awake for all of them that a surprised teacher even commented about it. When homeworks are done with enough time to spare before dinner, he wonder what the others are doing right now. Putting away his books and pencil case into his bookbag, Silver left his room for the dorm’s lounge. Usually Sebek is there around this time and they would bicker and wait for Lilia and Malleus to show up so they could have dinner together. 

But when he reaches the ground floor, Silver is surprise that Sebek is nowhere in sight. Perhaps he’s with his other group of friends? 

He looks around the lounge thinking that Sebek might be hiding behind the book shelves or something, yet only some Third Year students are relaxing on the couch; talking quietly amongst themselves. From the foot of the stairs, a few students walk down behind him. 

“ - did you see Vil-senpai’s new MagiCam post?” 

“The one on tips for short hairstyles? Oh! Is that why you tied up your hair differently after P.E?” 

“What do you think? I’m digging this new look!” 

“Well... at least people know that you actually have eyes now.” 

“Wa - did my bangs really covered my face that badly!? Why did no tell me before?!?”

The chatters gradually fade into background noises when Silver caught an unusual scent lingering behind him; a scent that makes him heady and eyes drowsy, almost instantly. It carries a subtle smell of smokey cedarwood, and blooming tuberoses that remind Silver of hot, creamy crème brûlée that melts on your tongue. 

But the magnetic scent immediately vanishes the moment Silver turn around to chase after it, frantically searching which student wore the cologne. 

“There you are, human! Don’t you know that you’re keeping Malleus-sama and Lilia-sama waiting!?” 

“Sebek?” 

Sebek appear at the entrance of their dorm wearing an unamused expression, hands firmly on his hips. When did he arrive? 

He roll his eyes when Silver continue to stare at him in stupor. “Well? Are you coming or not?” 

Silver shut his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. Shaking his head once, it took a while for him orientate himself. “Right. Let’s go.” 

Sebek didn’t question his terse’s reply as they walk towards the cafeteria, thinking that the Second Year student is in one of his moods again. He did throw an odd glance whenever Silver turn around as if he’s looking for someone or something. 

Later when the night grows long and the Diasomnia dorm is silent, Silver lies wide awake; staring listlessly at his bedroom ceiling in the dark. Scrolling through his phone did nothing to tire him out nor did reading boring textbooks help. 

Although, Flyod’s weird MagiCam post of him in a selfie with a happy Jade sitting prim and proper on Azul’s bed and Yuu’s black hair poking from underneath the duvet in the background was... something.

With a huff, Silver twist and turn underneath the duvet before closing his eyes in hopes that he could finally settle in for the night. 

Time seem to creep on before exhaustion claims him and Silver finally falls asleep. 

When he open his eyes, Silver found himself sitting on a picnic blanket. Soft morning rays shine through the tall tree above him. He notices small, bite-size food that are for children are laid out for him on a paper plate. A picnic basket is put aside near the tree’s roots, lacqured boxes of food were placed on the centre of the blanket and an uncapped thermos of hot tea is ready for anyone who wants to drink. 

He also notice that he was sitting on someone’s lap. 

“Oh? Are you finally hungry?” Silver tips his head back to see Lilia smiling down at him. His arms move around his small body to encase Silver in a hug. It was then he realise that he’s in a child’s body. 

“Here. Want some apples? It’s yummy!” Lilia coo as he tries to entice Silver to eat the sliced fruit by wagging it in front of him. 

“Maybe we should try some oranges again?” Malleus suggest, awkwardly holding a whole, round orange in one hand as he inspect it with uncertain, knitted eyebrows. 

“I rather not have him throw them at my hair again, Malleus.” Lilia sighs and put down the sliced apple when he no longer had Silver’s attention. 

As the Faes discuss on how to get him to eat, Silver understand that he’s reliving one of his childhood memories. Sure enough, he could easily spot the castle that belongs to Malleus’ grandmother looming behind the sea of trees.

This is the first time that Silver is consciously aware that he’s dreaming. It feels so surreal being able to coherently think like an adult but posses the speech capability of a seven year old. He grunts and whine to show his displeasure when it’s beginning to feel too warm in Lilia’s embrace. 

“Alright, alright, little man. Stop squirming for a moment...” Lilia neated Silver’s little clothes before finally release him onto the soft grass so he could play. “There! Hopefully you’re tire yourself out until you actually want lunch.” 

“...Is feeding a human child always this difficult?” Malleus couldn’t help but ask when he watch Silver wobble around, looking at everything and anything. 

“You know what? I don’t know.” Lilia admits though he didn’t sound all that concern. He knows that Silver will eat when his little tummy rumble soon enough. “I heard that some kids from a human village can be fussy when it comes to food. Silver might be one of those type.” He hums and tap his chin as he recalls their last meal time. “Then again, I heard that human kids loathe vegetables but Silver enjoyed eating your salad during dinner.” 

The Faes continue to talk while occasionaly keep an eye out on little Silver who is critically inspecting a wild patch of daisies. 

Back to Silver, he internally wonders why he’s reliving this particular memory. He tries to remember what else this memory entail when something pull him away from the flowers. 

That strange scent - cedarwood and crème brûlée - slips around him, thoroughly capture his attention in an instant and deafen him from Lilia and Malleus’s conversation. It envelopes his world that even the sunlight starts to dim when his eyes grows heavy. 

And before he realises it, Silver’s little legs begin to carry him towards the forest. Where the scent seem to be. 

The deeper Silver travese into the forest, the world around him begin to grow dark, as if the tall trees are blocking out the sun. Even the crickets and chirping birds are silenced the longer he walk and yet, he still couldn’t find the scource of that smell! 

“...er?”

Silver pauses. What was that? It sounded like - 

“...ver?”

He wanted to turn around, to move his arms but no matter how hard he tries, Silver stands there, frozen stiff as a statue. 

“...Silver?”

The scent is slightly stronger now. It smells so sweet, so comforting as if beckoning him forward and his legs begin to move again. 

A hand shoot out from the dark to gently grab his shoulder from behind. A familiar voice chimes in, “There you are Silver! I was beginning to worry, little one.” It’s Lilia. It’s Papa. His touch is like an anchor, bringing him back to a sense of safety and familiarity that Silver could sob in relief. “Come on now; it’s time to wake up, love.” 

At that moment, Silver jerks up; eyes wide awake and his heart racing. His room is so bright and warm that he had to squint his eyes a little to adjust his vision when he notice a silhouette that vaguely resemble Lilia sitting on his bed.

“Hang on, let me draw the curtains.” When the room is a little darken, Silver rubs his weary eyes and find that it’s indeed Lilia; his coat uniform and cap drape over the bed. For some reason, he’s studying Silver with a complicated expression; lips pursed and eyebrows knitted in worry. 

“W-What? Silver croak, hating how parched his throat feels. 

“How are you feeling?” Lilia asks immediately. He hovers close to Silver, cupping his clammy face with bare hands as he checks for... something. 

Silver lets the question sinks in for moment. “...Tired.” He admits with a sigh. His heart finally calms down when he leans into Lilia’s touch, eyes heavy but this time, he just wants to bask in Lilia’s warmth. 

Lilia bits his lower lip and slowly withdraw his hands before taking a sit on the bed. “What was the last thing that you did? Did you drunk any funny potion before bed?” 

“What? The last thing I did?” Silver repeated, a little lost but answer him nonetheless, “After dinner, I couldn’t sleep so I tried to bored myself by reading and when that didn’t work, I went to bed. I managed to fell sleep soon enough.” He explains and uneasiness churns in the pit of his stomach when Lilia still look at him strangely. 

He had never seen Lilia wear such expression before. 

“Silver... you’ve been asleep for four days.” 

The ancient Fae’s tentative announcement made Silver’s heart drop like a heavy lead. “...What?” 

“Calm down. Hey, can you look at me, Silver?” Lilia’s voice drops to soothing when he sees the far off look in Silver’s eyes. He holds both of the teenager’s hands when he heard Silver’s breath hitches. He continue to grip on them even when Silver meets his gaze. “It’s alright; you’re awake now and that’s what important. Can you remember if you’ve been dreaming or...”

“We were having a picnic back when I was a child. It’s somewhere behind the Witch’s castle - ”

“I remember that.” Lilia assure him calmly. He only spoke like that to Silver whenever he was spooked but it’s been years since the Fae spoke in such tone now that he’s all grown up. “You were such a curious child. You insist on wanting to pick wild flowers when we’re supposed to have lunch.” 

Wait - 

“...What happened next?”

“You plucked a bunch of daisies and gave them to me and Malleus; dirt and all. You looked so proud despite that you made a mess on the picnic blanket that I scooped you into my arms and we cuddled until you tried to gnaw on my hair.” Lilia laughs softly. “You were so attracted to my hair because of the colours that I had to buy you a black and pink teddy bear for you to obssessed on. Do you remember that?”

No. Silver doesn’t remember any of that... 

And that frightens him.  

“Silver? Talk to me; what are you thinking about?” Lilia pleads when instead of a flustered Silver like he’s hoping, his son in all but blood pales. 

Despite the warm morning, chill runs down Silver’s spine when he said in a detached tone, “I... I think I had a nightmare, but... I can’t remember of what.”

[heck-damn-so-i-draw]

The hotel was cheap, mostly because they wanted to save money, but also because it was the only hotel close enough to where they were going to be situated. Once the daybreak hit, the boys were up and ready. By 7 am they were approaching the old farmhouse and pulling into the driveway like last time.

☠  ̷͔͕̚T̶̢̃̽h̸̨͋͐e̵̛̞͊ ̶̗̈́̓ḓ̶͈̊e̴͆́ͅm̷͇̀͂o̶̧͓͛̕n̷͉̏̿ ̶͍͎͌š̵͕͔ą̷̜̉t̶͎̏ ̶͖͒o̵̩͗͝n̶̩͐ ̵̞͙̽͆t̷̩̊̚h̴͇͕͝͝ë̶̠̳ ̴̬̃͝ͅr̸̹̉͂ͅo̴̥̮̽́o̵̫̭͆́f̴̧̊̏t̷̙̤͐̍o̵̢̓p̵͙͚̓̚ ̵̣̠̈́̇n̴̞̓̏õ̶̩̑t̸̬̫̎ ̷̢̻̄̈t̶͖͔͆ȍ̵̪̮o̶̹̙͌ ̵͈̱̅h̸͓̘͝ả̷̠̝͂p̸̮̂̿p̸̜̆y̷̝͚͛̾ ̴̣́t̸̝͆ȟ̴̖͉a̷̳̰̐͝t̷̥̥̽̏ ̶͚͌͂t̴̼͝ḣ̴͉͓é̸̪͆s̴̓͝ͅͅe̴͛̈͜ ̷̘̳́̂b̴̟̦̈ủ̸̬̟ȓ̵̦͆d̵̢̤́̉ȩ̷̾́n̵̰̎s̴͈̈ ̸̠̈h̵͙͉͒̓a̶̼̾̈́ͅv̵̛̺̺e̸͍̓͛ ̴̻͗̍r̵̮̜͌ḛ̵͖͆̚ẗ̷̤u̴̼̿͘r̴̙͓͆͋n̶͓̒̎ë̴̻̫́̇ḑ̸̆͊ ̷̬̼̋́ţ̴̧̋ò̸͕͜ ̸̨̣͆͋h̴̛̲̫i̵̜͊ŝ̸͙́ ̷͇̠̉ẗ̷̗́h̴̪̓r̷̺̺͘e̶̝̟͌s̴͍̭̀h̵̺̕ő̵̹̾l̷̮͛̇d̵̘̣͗.̸̗̽.̶̞̻͐.̸̴͍̗̤̆̾͂̌ ̷̵̖̹̜͌͊̈☠ ⛧

The weather, and ultimately the atmosphere was considerably darker than yesterday, and though the boys would never admit it to each other, none of them slept very well. That didn’t stop Marcel from quickly getting out as much equipment as he could carry and taking it back to the tent they had set up yesterday. “Aw- jesus Tyler! You didn’t zip the door! There’s probably a shit ton of mosquitos in there now…” He complained, walking into the open tent and setting the heavy things he carried in on the table that they didn’t want to take with them. He then looked around. Yeah.. there were a few mosquitos flying around. Of course they didn’t bring bug spray either, fuck.

Tyler walks into the tent, two CPU boxes tucked in his strong arms, (brian is coming behind him with the monitors), and he throws open the already open zip up door. “What’s up mosquito bitches? Daddy’s home!” He joked nonchalantly, setting the machines on the table as well.

“Shuddup will ye? Jesus christ, a priest is gonna be here soon-” Brian starts, then get interuppted by the american who does not give a fuck. “And i’ll make him call me daddy, too.” Brian set down the monitors and nearly had a stroke fit of laughter. “Oh F’eck off.”

Evan took the last three bags of equipment from the back of the SUV, taking his time getting up the hill and to their tent. He can hear someone- something near. It whispers in his ear and tells him to run. Get out. Leave. Of course it sends a shiver down his spine and a chill deep into his bones, but he continues up the hill and tries to make out the difference between male and female in the voice he heard. It was deeper toned, a bit raspy and sad. Evan concludes male as a dark sad atmosphere starts clinging onto him. Evan sets the bags up where Tyler and Marcel want them. “When did you say he was gonna get here, Brian?”

Brian was swatting a few mosquitos out of the air when Evan asked about David. “Well, he said he’d be here probably by noon or something in his texts-” There was a loud groan from Tyler. “Are you serious? Noon? And the dude expects us not to go in until he gets here? We need to investigate.” 

“I know, I know, Tyler, Ya don’t think i’m just as pissed as you? I just want to be safe about this. You don’t-” 

“Get it?” Tyler responded, salt in his tone that cuts deep into Brian’s words. “Then help us understand. How dangerous is it really? It’s just a buncha dead guys-”

“It is not just a bunch of dead guys- are ye fockin’ stupid? Tyler, there is a demon in that house. A powerful demon who takes control of people. Controls their thoughts, how they act. Makes them do unspeakable things, tyler! You can’t just fuck with something you can’t see.”

This pisses Tyler off more, makes him give Brian the camera angrily. “Then you go in there and record with Evan. We need footage. When the priest starts to show up I’ll call you and tell you to get out of there.”

“Wh- But David said ta-” Evan took Brian by the arm and started to walk out with thi, “Ignore him, Brian. Let’s just see what we can find.”

Brian had a terrible feeling about this, but against Evan’s grip, he just complies and walks with him to the building. When they get to the front of the  building, Evan takes the camera from Brian and starts recording himself. “Alright guys, we’ve got a priest on his way, a good old friend of Brian’s by the name of David Nagles. We’re just going to go inside to see if we can find anything else before this guy shows up. Tyler and Marcel are getting everything ready to watch us from inside out base.. Alright. Let's head in one more time.” He paused the camera feed and looked to Brian, who didn’t seem too happy to be here so soon. “Hey.. It’ll be fine. You still have that holy water right?” 

Silently steaming, Brian pulls the half empty bottle, about the length of his forefinger and thickness of his thumb. He pops the cork and hands it to Evan, who, though pained at the look on his buddy’s face, applies it to the rim of his ears as Brian did before, then gives it back to its owner. The canadian sighs, looks towards the house, and then starts stepping closer. 

“Wait-!” Brian suddenly calls, grabbing Evan by the shoulder and holding him back mid-stride. “There’s someone right here-” He steps in front of the confused Evan, facing a tall shadow of a man, a crying man, multiple stab wounds carved into his chest, still bleeding. As Brian approaches the spirit, it seems to flinch back, then puff out its chest and stand taller over the lad of 6’0, mouthing curses and angry words. From the back, Evan speaks, a feeling of nausea and dizziness hitting him in the chest as he holds the camera out to see  “He-... He’s saying to leave. He wants us out, and he wants us out now.” 

“Yeah he doesn’t look too happy… Ask him his name.” 

Evan takes a deep breath and steps forward, listening carefully as words float to his ears. “Hey.. It’s alright, man. I know some bad shit happened but … What’s your name?” 

The spirit-shadow stopped yelling at them, went quiet and stared at Evan dead in the eyes, even if the living man couldn’t see him. The words he uttered sounded muffled, quieter, it sounded like he was… under water.

“J...Jon.” 

“Jon?” Evan repeated for himself and the camera. “Jon…” He looked up at where brian was looking, taking his eyes from the screen. God.. if only he could just .. see it. Then he caught the whisper of something.. “Assholes…”

ARE YOU SERIOUS-

“Why you little-” Evan started, but before he could finish his thought, Brian interrupted with a sigh. “He’s gone… Alright, let’s head inside-” As he picked up his foot to head back inside the house, putting on his big boy pants and gaining the courage one step at a time, he was jolted by the sound of a car horn. His heart racing a million miles a minute as he turned around to see who the hell is honking, he hears a distinct irish yelling of anger, and a phone call. He inhales slowly through his nose, closing his eyes in frustration and exhaling before answering the call. Before Tyler can speak or even say he’s sorry, Brian snaps. “I know he’s fockin’ here, jackass.” Then he hangs up and walks past Evan, who is staring, to the small black rented caddy. 

“The hell did I tell ye about goin’ in before I got here, ya twit? I told you- I told you specifically, Don’t go in!” He yelled loudly as he parked. Brian was beyond caring. When David pulled in next to their car rather violently, he parked the car and got out, still heated. “You-!” He starts to go off again, but Brian just holds up his hand. “Oh shove it, I’m not a goddamn baby. I was lookin’ round the porch so I wasn’t jus’ wastin’ my damn time waitin’ f’er y’er ass ta show up-”

As much as watching two Irishmen bicker is amusing, Evan stepped towards them and sighed, knowing they’d have to cut that from the video. “We didn’t go in, I swear. Thank you for coming, Father.” He wasn’t really religious, but he was respectful, and hated actual conflict that wasn’t a joke. The tall man sighed through his nose in response and turned from his friend, to the man he didn’t know. Right… be professional, Daithi. “Thank you, It’s nice to meet you, mister..?”

“Evan.” The canadian smiled, automatically reaching out his hand to shake the priest’s.

“David.” The man replied, replicating that contagious smile.

“Well, you might as well come meet the rest of our team, then we should really get started.”

~STAY TUNED FOR PART 6~

->

:D <3

Wanna read the whole story without scrolling through Tumblr? Here!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BtwQY83MEgIH46KdMA3NPKInBf0i3jiBrdgj3EoJiCo/edit?usp=drivesdk

Don't be afraid to leave comments!

[soranihimawari]

Shatter

A story in several parts:

tw: reader chan’s sibling is a toxic force to be reckoned with; officers mentioned in later parts (civil servants for young adults); mentions of accidents and scarring [both emotional and physical]; young adult 18+ for strong and suggestive language 

word count: 6.8 K

tagging @oikawa-obvs​ @m0nstergeneration20xx​ @smolbludandelions

the characters and other tie in works: 

seijoh 4: oikawa, iwazumi, hanamaki, mattsun

spin off of the Running at 6a.m. feat. hanamaki and his s/o [plus s/o family]

Throughout this story, mattsun & q learn how important the actions of others does not define a set path.

Next >>

I.

“If I get one you like, you can have it,” you say with a wide smile. You still remember the third day of the last month of the year. You were nearly on the cusp of being eighteen within a few short weeks. You had heard a few weeks prior that one of your friends from middle school had moved to across town once her relatives agreed to taking her in during the summer leading into your respectful third years. Recently your were surprised your friend was so openly affectionate toward a certain strawberry blonde. You  would tease her saying that she was insane for having him wake her up at six in the morning during one of your late night voice calls.

“Well, Makki-kun is part of our school’s volleyball team,” she says. You sigh because your friend is right. “Besides aren’t you still interested in getting your hands a little dirty? I’m in serious need of my right hand mechanic to give me a hand running a few diagnostics…”

“I’ll clear it with Naka-one,” you say. “You know how much my sister worries.”

“Says the woman with the muscle memory of a saint,” your friend’s voice is singing sweetly into the receiver. “Besides, I think I can’t keep hiding my best friend away from those giants.”

“I suppose you’re right. Meet me at the station on Saturday, ok?”

“You got it. I can finally prove to Makki-kun’s friends that I do have other friends.”

II:

[Saturday//Ice Cream & Journals\\]

Winter was no joke as she briskly shared her wind across the neighborhood you found yourself visiting. You had arrived not too early in the mid-afternoon; you had an overnight Hershel bag with your various journalistic tools stacked in according to importance. You were a designer by instinctual honing skills whereas your friend was a hands on mechanical genius in her spare time. The two of you used to race up and down the hills of your childhood streets. Your drive to inspire others was something your sister had maintained with a skilled hand, but you were defiant against the dainty life she was grooming you to try to emulate. The argument reaches its pinnacle the night before you were supposed to be leaving to visit your friend:

“Your hobby is just that! A hobby! You can’t keep losing more hours of sleep over a career our parents didn’t think suitable for a teenager like you!”

Your markers container was the closest thing to your sister’s hands and instead of strangling you, she knocks over the matte boxes you so ideally spent hours recataloging. You say nothing, that is until those hands of hers reach for the journals you kept your portfolios of car designs is in her hands. 

“Don’t!” was the last word you were able to yell before the sounds of tearing roars into your eardrums. You are left alone collecting the shreds of your dreams on to the kitchen table. Your sister was as mad as a hatter, but you were too. If her madness only saw the way you clung to the last bit of your individuality like it was a godsend. 

So in the morning, you send a message to your friend who meets you at the train terminal. She dons sunglasses and extends a pastel jacket to you; the jacket has your nickname stitched on it with the sigil of a craftsman:

“I got your message. Man, you sister is really fucked up,” she says. 

“I know,” you retort. 

“You even cut your hair into a more asymmetrical cut. It looks good on you Q.”

Q is for Quantum. Your parent who birthed you chose that perhaps having born two daughters roughly seven years apart was not the best idea, but alas, here you were still wandering the corner of the outskirts of a city close to the palisades your host lives in.

The mod scarf you brought with you is wrapped around your neck in a double knot. The rest of your winter attire is kept simple in the various hues of indigo and splashes of cerulean pearls. Your best friend, you notice, is a bit more tan than before, but her ever present pizazz shines through like it always does. Women can be anything they set their minds to so long as they have the right know-how. 

“I have the guys meeting us up at the ice cream parlour not too far from here,” she says stifling an amused laugh when you scrunch your nose in a slight snarl. “What? You did want to meet the person I’m dating after all. And not to worry, this is only a small gathering.”

Your snarl subsides only to remain as neutral as possible. You nod as your friend rounds the corner of a children’s park across from the ice cream parlour bells chime when the door is pulled open by other patrons.

“Thank you,” you and your friend say walking through the open door which automatically closes behind you both. Your eyes are averted for a moment toward the glowing holographic menu cards above the cashier. The ice cream parlor is paired with an adjoining coffee bar as you take a look around. Your friend has a nickname too and the moment you hear a subtly calm voice call out to her, you realize you recognize the voice (from the photos she sends you, you know their names only as ichigo no kori, cinefile, pretty boy, and…) 

“Oh look, they’re all on time for once,” your friend says as she takes the lead with you close behind. When you reach the table, you unwrap your scarf from your neck.

“Makki, your girlfriend brought a friend,” the cinefile says. His winter attire is typically laid back as far as you could see; he donned a hoodie under his jean jacket and matching slacks. The person to his left, is the pretty boy. Apparently he was the aforementioned princely type who was more popular and it clicks in your brain why: Seijoh has a reputation for being a powerhouse. Then your eyes shift to the strawberry ice haired neighbor you were told so much about from several text conversations you had had. 

“The chisana josei has a right to bring whomever she likes, Iwazumi,” the baritone voice is curious as he eyes you quietly. 

“Of course she does,” your friend winks at you. You hear her whisper a play nice to you as she takes her place at the table next to her beau. You roll your eyes after your friend sits down, you shake your head like an etch and sketch. New slate for the weekend. I’m just here for a few days to give my sister a few days of quiet. Your consciousness rumbles.

“She’s awfully quiet,” the prince chuckles when you make a face. “Is it because she thinks I'm handsome?”

“Oh my god, the world doesn't revolve around you Oikawa,” the one named Iwazumi says through gritted teeth.

“Boys, boys, you’re both pretty, but remember Makki is dating me,” your friend reminds them and her boyfriend smirks. “Have a seat Q, before you actually start growing roots. Mattsun, be a dear and make some room for my best friend will ya?”

“I prefer to stand,” you said with a shrug. “If you want to flip for it, go right ahead.”

“You sure? I mean, Mattsun does make a pretty decent chair...” your friend’s voice trails off when she sees your gloved hand open and close. 

“That’s easy for you to say to an old friend,” you say when you take off your backpack when you hand it to her. “You’re not the one who was kicked out of the house again, so please excuse me if I decline the invitation for now.”

The conversation moves on after Makki challenges Iwazumi to another arm wrestling match while Oikawa heads to the counter to order a round of hot cocoa because it had already been sanctioned it was his turn to pay. Your friend converses at the end of the table with you and Mattsun together trying to act as a buffer between the most withdrawn people in the group. 

“Mattsun, did you know that Q is an excellent designer? She helped me forge the gas tank for the bike I use,” your friend sings your praises. How does she know what to say to push your buttons like that? Mattsun is apathetic, yet upon closer inspection of his softened features, he reminds you of an older cat. One who has both a playful and mischievous personality and your imagination wonders how fast you’d fall for him not knowing he was wondering the same thing. The middle blocker keeps a neutral expression as he stands up to help Oikawa with the drink carriers with the mugs. After a rocky start, you realize that the group is not so bad. You were now a group of six third years and you liked the odds of having a small unit composed of your best friend and her reverse harem. They walk with you two all the way back to their respective blocks and when Iwazumi along with Oikawa branch off, you are left with your best friend, Makki, and Mattsun in your company

“Six in the morning again?” your friend sighs. Her breath is caught in the chill air when he kisses her temple. You see how smitten they are for each other and while you had just survived an hour into the prolonged sabbatical, you wonder if you would eventually get a shot.

“We may have lost the game chisana josei, but at this point, I think it’s just Oikawa wanting to make sure we’re still sharp.”

“If you say so, but I’m not going to be joining you. It’s too cold,” she teases. “Q’s here to hang with me.”

“I’m sure I can find something to do for the meantime tomorrow,” you answer. “I don’t want to inconvenie--”

“She can run with me,” Mattsun speaks up, scratching his cheek. He had this quiet charm about him. The offer throws you off course for a little bit in the afternoon sun. 

“What do you think, Q? You up for a little excursion tomorrow?”

“Sure. It couldn’t hurt. You trust these two.Techinically dating one, but that’s besides the point.” The two of you laugh before realizing you set up a first date right under your nose. 

“Careful with this one Mattsun,” your friend teases, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. Your bag is now carried on one of your shoulders after you leave the cafe. “Q is really one of a kind. A gem if you will. See you guys tomorrow morning. If it’s snowing, we’re both staying indoors and you two can run together…”

It didn’t snow the following morning.

--House Hours--

You heard movie nights were a tradition, so you had tagged along with your host for the weekend away from home. The first day you had arrived, you had hot cocoa with her ‘reverse harem’ as she would like to call it followed by having dinner with her aunt and uncle; the following morning and true to their words, both Makki and Mattsun picked you two up for the daily morning run which ended with your friend getting another piggyback ride from her boyfriend (and you wonder why she fakes it from time to time, but it’s worth the way Makki’s ears burn a scarlet hue), yet you keep a steady pace much to the other party’s delight; the rest of the second day was filled with you trying to piece back together the shredded blueprints your sister ripped in front of your face. You look at the scraps tossed on the floor of the spare bedroom you were staying in and when the aunt of your best friend walks in to ask you a question, she doesn’t proceed with it since your sniffling kicked in her maternal mode: you explain to her you allow yourself to feel horribly for about five to ten minutes daily and you move on about your day, however after this particularly rudeness your sister had showcased, you needed more time before you were able to head back to your suburb. Her niece had explained the situation already a few days prior to your train arriving, but to see the damaging effects it had on you, her aunt calmed you down with some sage advice:

“Your faith is shaken, but you still believe. Give ‘em hell kiddo. I got you,” she says pulling you into a side hug. “Now, shall we make some tea? I think you deserve a break.”

Your friend came back from running an errand to the store because she wanted to buy a few more strips of tape as well as another set of trail mix with the granola clusters you like. See, you were invited at the request of the benevolent prince to his home to indulge in a movie night. “Makki said we’re going to start off the movie night at Oiks’ place with whatever you want to watch. It was Mattsun’s idea too apparently,” your friend says, handing you a hair elastic. 

“Can you ask them if Oikawa is ok with playing ‘His Girl Friday’?”

“Sure thing.”

You two had dressed in similar fashions lately due to the steady drop in temperature.A lot of muted royal colors were your in your wheelhouse of clothes you had brought with you, so tonight it was forest green tweed pants layered with a peasant belted sweater dress. Your host had snapped a photo of you getting ready and she nearly choked back a laugh when you scold her for sending it to her boyfriend. 

“You look stellar,” she says when she brushes her hair back into a loose ponytail. 

“Do I though? When was the last time you saw the scars the fiberglass left on my shoulder, chise?”

“Seventh grade,” she answers. “Scars or not, you’re still my best friend. Even if you just made a portmanteau of the harem’s nickname for me.”

You bop your head and laugh. “I suppose you’re right… we should get going, yeah?”

Oikawa house, 19:32

You walk side by side with your friend after she mentions it was her turn to bring the snacks. You divide the work explaining that you know what they need more than you do. Although all dreams must end, your life was not some hallmark film. Sometimes the hardest thing and the right ones are the same, your subconscious reminds you to be more freeing of your worries.

“Let go have some fun,” you mumble. You reach the counter with your friend ahead of you. She had the usual assortment of candy to mix into the popcorn, she noticed you have new pens and a crossword puzzle. 

“Crossword puzzles in ink was always something I wanted to try,” your voice is confident. “Besides, didn’t you say the boys were providing the food?”

When the final tally was tabulated, you leave the store together and head north at the next intersection, you two walk reminiscing your play days together.

“Oh! Your mother was so angry,” you friend says laughing about the time you stole one of her baking sheets to go sledding. “Wasn’t she going to use that pan for the crescents at the holiday party?”

“Yeah, she was. Haha,” your laugh is a foreign sound. However it is a sound you don’t often make anymore. 

“You miss her too,” you friend says as she stops in front of a modern home. 

“What child doesn’t?” You ask looking up at the sky. 

The constellations twinkle a tarnished image of a family who prided themselves in raising functional perfected youths and while your sister doted on your parents every whim, you rebelled. The rebellion sparked many fears for your family; a tomboy with a high marks should not get into scuffles on the school yard. Such a fiery spirit could only be doused for so long. You were allowed to keep your hobby of drawing because it’s what calms you the doctors mentioned. Ever since the first cold snap when you lost your mother (you were a child in the seat behind her solving a crossword in pencil) in a hit and run, the last embers of creativity sparked a carnal desire to be free. Yet here you were seven years later with a sister so emotionally damaged who in her toxic mindset didn’t understand that for you, art and designing (like the paint job you oversaw before your childhood neighbor moved across town) for automotive purposes was your way to find balance. The girl who moved across town to be close to family had a stronger support system, but after hearing what her aunt had to say it suddenly makes sense, so when she calls you out from your trance, you remember you are always evolving: keep moving. One step at a time. 

“Oikawa’s place is this one? Wow he really is a prince with a castle,” you joke in the front walkway. 

“I know right? I know he’s one of the top setters in the prefecture, but with all those interviews he does, it helps, haha. Mind holding this real quick?”

The small convenience store bag is passed to you to hold for a moment while your friend knocks thrice times. 

On the inside the boys were talking amongst themselves. It had been three days since you arrived for your holiday, and each morning after your first night, you woke up at six to run with half of the team (Makki, Mattsun, you, and your host). 

“Q is really good at keeping up with us,” Mattsun says. There is a moment where he notices his friends stop talking. They figure it out and tease the tallest middle blocker like he was discovering a crush for the very first time. 

“Oh~ is our little Mattsukawa finally growing up?” Oikawa cooed. Luckily Iwazumi’s shuts him up saying to get the door. 

Makki sends Mattsun a text and judging by his best friend’s face, Makki confirms his disposition. Iwazumi mentions he’d be heading to the couch in the living room to create more space for the girls and Oikawa. 

“Chisana mentioned you wanted to watch ‘His Girl Friday,’ so it’s already queued up.”

“Yeah, it’s really well written. Thank you,” you carry on the conversation as naturally as Oikawa points out the half bathroom in case you need it out of anything you can have your friend show you where things are since this wasn’t the first time everyone’s been over since the school year has started. 

“No problem. Ah! Here we are,” Oikawa’s arm extends outward to showcase the kitchen area where the rest of group was. Makki greeted your friend first and you wave politely. You say a quick hello to Iwazumi and you know if you could hear a stare, you would when you greet Mattsun last. 

“Greeted him last, huh?” you friend muses. 

“You greeted your strawberry first,” you argue back. 

“I don’t mind,” Mattsun says, his voice is hauntingly rich like the darkened wood finish on the tables outside. He leans in a little toward you before he stands he whispers in your ear, “you look pretty.” Your mood changed slightly as you hear his compliment. Then you remember the company you are in front of.

“We’ll go on ahead,” Makki suggests as he grabs the bowl of popcorn he separated for your friend to dump all the candies in. You nod when your friend silently slides you both kit-kat minis for luck.

“I heard you,” you say softly before you tap the back of the middle blocker’s hand. “C’mon, let’s not keep our friends waiting.”

Mattsun doesn’t give you the opportunity to remove you hand because he turns his palm up and you run your fingers barely ghosting over his future line from palm reading; you both hold a conversation behind curious eyes. 

“Leave them alone, they’ll be alright,” your friend says in a lower tone. 

Makki backs up the sentiment his girlfriend states with a stern glare at both Oikawa and Iwazumi, as one of them clicks the console control and the opening credits start to play. 

And just once, you remember what your scars mean: it’s kind of fun to do the impossible. You eat the KitKat your friend left behind as you walk away from the kitchen and sit next to Iwazumi. Mattsun observes this and decides to take matters into his own hands literally. He walks toward Oikawa’s den area, he chooses to sit on the floor in front of you like a guard dog throughout the rest of the film. The film wraps up while the next film was being chosen. When the conversation goes on much longer than expected, you can excuse yourself for a moment back to the kitchen to pick up your crossword puzzle; you cross back to the other side of the den’s layout to sit down where you were earlier. Your pen is in your hand (youyou had tucked into the bag) as you begin to solve the first puzzle. 

“I’m just saying horror movies are great,” Oikawa said. “Sci fi too.”

“Then it shouldn’t be that hard to choose,” you quip without looking up from your booklet. Your pen moves diligently as you flip over to the next page. To be quite honest, you aren’t really paying that much attention to notice Iwazumi and Mattsun switched places. 

“Twilight Zome collection it is!” Oikawa exclaimed. He pressed play. 

The evening draws to a close once you see that almost everyone had taken short catnaps around each other. You questioned whether or not the boys slept, but at least one or two of your company stayed awake.You close the crossword puzzles when Mattsun turns his head to look at you; you quirk an eyebrow at him You two were the only ones awake during this round of animated featurettes, so when Mattsun reaches for one of your hands he forces you forward a little too much, but you stop yourself from toppling over. You whisper something to him, causing him to make room for you on the floor; when you are sitting next to him, you lean into the side of his arm comfortably. 

“My my, someone is affectionate today,” you tease. 

“You don’t make it any easier,” he whispers in low tones to you. 

“I suppose that is true. Is this ok? I mean, your face is more impressionable now than before,” you call him out on the subtle changes of his features. 

“Is it? I haven’t noticed. My running partner is improving,” he tells this to you when you hold his hand in yours again. Neither of you want to let go.

“I think this is the beginning of something new,” you say calmly. “I’m still healing,you know.”

Instead of an answer, he shows you his understanding through squeezing your hand in a gentle manner: ‘you don’t need to run; you’re fine as you are.’ 

A couple minutes go by before you nod off. Mattsukawa was about to ask you a question, but chuckles lightly to himself that his question would be saved for another time. To him you are much more than a casual acquaintance of his best friend’s girlfriend. You’re shaping up to be someone he likes to know more of; you gravitate towards each other and now perhaps he realizes the appeal of having someone be a constant in life. There are many people who take the time to learn everything about the person they are crushing on, yet you and him are laid back enough to balance out your friends’ personality. You on the other hand are learning to forgive yourself one day at a time, but it’s the first time someone else is willing to wait for you. How long, you don’t know, and yet here was this casual acquaintance from your  best friends new neighborhood willing to wait for you to feel better about yourself. Mattsukawa tells you how he wants to hang out with you tomorrow; just the two of you. You were lucid enough to agree. 

Next >>

[vicunaburger]

Imperfect and inhuman, are we?

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical (AU Verse) Chapters: 1/? Pairing: Dewey Finn x OC (Magdalena Newton) The Players: Dewey Finn, Magdalena Newton, Ned Schneebly, The School of Rock Students Word Count: 1,978 Warnings: M for Future Things

Notes: Y’all remember when I said I was going to play in in the Dewey Finn + vampire universe? WELL...here we go. Trying out a new “free-form” scene by scene chapter format, rather than a standard chronological order. We’ll see how this plays out

Chapter 1 - Night - Routine

The alarm went off at precisely 8:14pm.

From under the massive pile of blankets covering the twin-sized bed, an arm slithered out, feeling along the nightstand in the dark. The vibrations from the cellphone led the fingers toward their goal, tapping the screen - a few misses - before the noise finally ceased. Finished with its task, the arm retreated under the blankets, tucking itself inward like a snake retreating to its den.

At 8:17pm, the alarm went off again.

This time, an entire body followed the arm out of the blankets, turning off the alarm with one hand, and turning on a small desk lamp with the other. With a wide yawn, they stumbled out of bed, shuffling along the carpeted floor until they reached the bathroom. Luckily, this room had an automatic light fixture, the space filling with a soft white glow. Another automatic feature kicked on around the same time; a TV screen built-in to the vanity mirror taking up most of the wall. At once, the familiar voice of the weather channel anchor echoed around the tiled bathroom.

Magdalena Newton looked a mess when she woke up.

Her only saving grace was the fact she had the forethought to plait her long hair into a braid every night, or else she would have to deal with a rat’s nest besides the general unkept-ness of her appearance first thing in the morning. Absently, she untied the ribbon in her oil-black hair, watching the weatherman as she started to untangle the strands.

Sunrise was at 6:28am that morning; a good amount of time to take care of her errands.

Magdalena tapped the center of her vanity mirror and another screen snapped to life, along with some ring lights attached to a small camera. Within a few seconds, she could see herself in the mirror’s surface, as clear as though she were looking in the actual glass.

Technology was a marvel.

Her reflection was always such a strange thing to look at, to be honest. There were moments it didn’t seem like she was the one looking back at herself, only recently getting the ability to see herself within the past few decades. It was centuries before she could recall what she truly looked like, relying only on a painted portrait or a lover’s descriptions.

Both of which were never accurate.

Wincing at her haggard appearance, Magdalena started to work on fixing herself up for the night. No use going out looking like you just rolled out of bed… even if it were true. She was raised to be a proper lady when in view of other people, and that took some care and effort on her part. Besides, one never knows who you might see wandering the streets so late at night, or whom you might be looking for.

—

Was it just him, or did the sliding door of his van sound louder when it was dark outside?

Checking his watch in the circular beam of the streetlamp, it was just around 9:00pm when he parked his van outside of his apartment building, sliding open the door to start moving equipment from the vehicle to the home. It had been another late-night practice session at the concert venue with his students, which meant he had spent the last hour or so of practice getting berated by parents for keeping their kids so late.

The gods of rock care not for simple mortal concepts like time. Or calling parents in advance. Or responding to the last 15 text messages you got.

Eh, he knew they would shut up about it once they saw all the hard work the kids were putting into the show. It was shaping up to be quite the epic mid-summer concert spectacular he had seen in his dreams. The uptight little bastards were really doing him proud.

Dewey Finn stuck the handle of his guitar case between his teeth, trying to balance the bottom half with his knee, and simultaneously grab his satchel from under the front seat. It was a good idea, in theory, had it not been for the fact that the angle of the guitar case was preventing him from reaching into the van. He wasn’t about to set his prized guitar case on the street, nor did he feel like making two trips up and down the building’s stairwell.

He lost count of how many times he had sent angry emails to the supervisor about the busted elevator, only to be told it would “take some time” because it was a “historic building”.

Historic was a polite word for collapsing at any given moment.

Dewey couldn’t complain too much, all things considered; the apartment’s mysterious landlord company gave him a break on the rent due to him using the space for education. Apparently, whoever own the place was a fan of music, which gave them an upgrade in the landlord scale from Hell spawn to Minor Annoyance.

Shifting his weight to keep the guitar case balanced, Dewey tried again to reach the satchel, muttering a slew of curses with a mouthful of leather handle.

—

Magdalena heard the van door before she even rounded the corner, which made her take pause during her speedy trek down the sidewalk. Pulling out her phone, she checked the time: 9:07pm. He was a little earlier than she anticipated, putting a significant kink in her plans for that evening.

For the two and a half weeks, she had clocked him arriving at his apartment no earlier than 9:39pm, which would leave her plenty of time to scale the fire escape until she reached his floor. Nothing scandalous ever happened during her vigils; she was more than content to listen to the sounds of life from his apartment. His weighty footsteps padding around the creaky floors, rummaging around for something to eat, playing video games late into the night. Speaking with other people either in person or on the telephone.

And her favorite hobby of his: singing.

Was it still considered voyeurism if one didn’t actually look at their object of affection? Listening was more than enough. Hearing him plunk out little tunes on his guitar and sing classic rock ballads were something she could have listened to all night if she had the opportunity. She would risk staying out beyond daybreak if he had stayed up all night singing; her own private concert, and he didn’t even know anyone was listening.

For now.

Still, she was debating if it was too early to introduce herself. What is in doing so, she was committing a grave miscalculation of her plans and would therefore have to resort to… unpleasant measures? What if he didn’t want to know her? What if he ended up not liking what he found out?

What if it was something mundane: she wasn’t the right type? The right build or height? The right gender? He hadn’t brought anyone into his apartment save his friend - Nathan? Nolan? - that she could tell. However, his daytime activities were as of yet a mystery, which could have meant this entire plan would end in utter disaster if he were spoken for.

Nope. There was no use thinking the worst of things without even making an attempt.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

—

The more he struggled, the more his jaw began to ache.

Dewey was stubborn more than anything, which his best friend Ned always pointed out just how illogical it was for him to be such a damn slacker 90% of the time when he would get into his hellbent fits of motivation. He was going to make it up the stairs in one go, and he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself doing it.

Such delusions of grandeur can only go so far before one’s hubris decided to take the driver’s seat.

Dewey’s jaw finally gave out, causing his guitar case to tip over across his knee and gain a bit of air before starting to fall to the dirty sidewalk below. The whole thing was like a slow-motion sequence in a movie; Dewey reaching out his hands, fumbling for purchase on the leather case, and ultimately sending it further away from him when he failed to grasp it tight.

Unable to watch the carnage, he screwed his eyes shut tight, waiting for the inevitable crashing of his precious instrument hitting cement-

-which never happened.

Cautiously opening one eye, he peeked out in the darkened space beyond the streetlight, seeing his guitar case being held oh so carefully by a pair of delicate hands. Fully opening his eyes, he followed those hands up their respective arms until he came face to face with his savior. A woman, about his height, stood next to his van with the case secure in her grip. It was hard to see her in the shadows, even more so with her face obscured by the neck of the guitar case.

“Clumsy.” The woman said, her voice clear and crisp in the still air.

Dewey was immediately taken aback by her speech, his overly sensitive musical ear picking up a mix of accents he couldn’t place, and a soft, rounded lisp near the front of her mouth. Within a few seconds, however, he was far more concerned with the welfare of his guitar, reaching out and gently taking the case from her.

“You… you saved Tawny from certain death. My precious axe. My baby.” He cradled the case like a small child, setting it down in the van with great care. “I was such a fool to treat you so carelessly.”

The woman tilted her head, “Tawny?”

“Tawny. Ya know, like the girl from the White Snake video? Only the hottest woman to ever dance on the hood of a car.” Dewey replied, “Not… not that it was her only quality.”

“Never met her, so I couldn’t say.” She replied, a bit of laughter lilting through her voice this time. “She was attractive though, no shame in saying it.”

Whirling around on his heels, Dewey finally turned his full attention to the woman, almost falling over into the passenger door of the van once he got a good view of her. He didn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t… her.

“Snow White” was the immediate image that popped into his head. She looked pale as a ghost in the dim shadows, with dark hair tied intricately with braided bits gathered into a low ponytail, and her bright blue eyes catching the light like some nocturnal creature. The stark difference between her skin and her inky hair, coupled with her all black ensemble gave her the appearance of a living black and white image. The only color visible in the darkness with a bright, robin’s egg blue scarf tied in a bow around her neck.

“Uhhh…. I… you… wow…” Dewey leaned against the van, trying to act casual. “I mean, w-what’s a girl like you doing on a sidewalk like this? It’s late for a casual urban hike.”

“Protecting defenseless musical instruments from certain death.” She mirrored his stance, placing a hand on her hip. “I moonlight as a vigilante.”

He nodded, holding out his hand in a friendly gesture, “Ah, well, consider me a grateful citizen oh Superhero- Lady- Ma’am. Wow- you know what? That was lame. I’m just gonna show myself out before I embarrass myself any further.”

Dewey started to take his hand away, but not before the woman took hold of it, shaking it with a firm grip, “All in a night’s work, fair citizen.”

The woman - reluctantly- let go of his hand, stepping around him and continuing her way down the sidewalk. As though finally discovering that: yes, he had a brain, and yes, he should use it immediately, Dewey jogged a couple paces to try and catch up to her. She stopped when she heard him approaching, which made him bump into her softly, having not anticipated the sudden pause.

After steadying himself, Dewey ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, “Listen. Maybe… maybe we can start over? Because this whole night is gonna keep me up for weeks if I don’t try and regain my dignity. I’m Dewey Finn.”

Laughing softly, though she covered her mouth delicately with the back of her hand, she nodded. “Fair enough, Dewey Finn. I’m Magdalena.”

Writing Tags: @amywright @mrgeuse  @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs

[aelaer]

Compare/contrast Benedict Cumberbatch’s portrayal of Sherlock & Strange?

Ah ha ha anon, you understand my propensity to write essays regarding basically, uh, anything that interests me. And character analysis for my favorite characters is definitely one of those things I can ramble about.

I’m going to assume you specifically want me to compare the two character portrayals with each other as opposed to the source material, so that’s what I’m going to do. This write up assumes all four seasons of Sherlock and all MCU films with Stephen in them as canon.

This topic is something I especially considered when writing the both of them in a crossover as they had to be two distinct souls despite their similarities, beyond their abilities. The two characters are very similar to the point that some folks have difficulty in distinguishing the both of them as separate characters. I saw this a bit when Doctor Strange was first released. Some writers from the Sherlock fandom tried their hand at writing him, and there was a lot of Sherlock bleeding through in a handful of the attempts I read. It wasn’t until I was head-deep in the MCU that I really noticed this myself, which goes to show just how similar they can be.

The similarities are easy: both very intelligent, masters in their chosen fields, arrogant, not always personable, are vain when they’re in a good headspace, and went through large moments of growth that reshaped some of their personality to overall make them better human beings.

It’s the differences that may be harder to figure out, and these differences also vary depending on what point of time in canon you’re looking at the character as they both went through life-changing events. Still, there are some core personality points that remain:

Stephen’s primary drive for knowledge is to achieve a goal. Sherlock’s primary drive for knowledge is for the sake of knowledge. While there is definitely some overlap (such as Stephen’s library of music release albums and dates, and Sherlock’s research into solving a crime), it seems to me that Stephen’s whole learning structure is built upon achieving a goal. Studying for his PhD and MD at the same time was all to enter the field more quickly so he had more time to hone his craft and become the best, and prove it to everyone. Going to Nepal and beginning to learn magic were all for the sake of curing his hands. We haven’t seen much of him after he pivoted his goal into protecting Earth and reality, but all the spellwork we see from him in Ragnarok, IW, and Endgame certainly seem to have been learned with that idea in mind. Sherlock, on the other hand, clearly likes studying things for the sake of knowing things. Unlike Stephen who has an achievement in mind before starting to go for it, Sherlock starts studying things before it necessarily becomes something that he knows for certain he will deal with. Take categorizing the 243 types of tobacco ash. If he came across tobacco ash in a case, I imagine that he’d be more than able to compare ash to the top 20 brands and find a match 99% of the time. While he may claim it is for a future case, you don’t do that unless you genuinely enjoy the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake. There is just no guarantee that it will be of any practical use in the future, while we know for certain Stephen’s research for his primary goals is to find solutions to problems both immediate (his hands) and imminent (bad things coming to bother Earth). (And this is one reason I consider Stephen a Slytherin and Sherlock a Ravenclaw, though both could have Ravenclaw and Slytherin as secondaries, respectively.)

Stephen is more interested in the praise, acceptance, and friendship of those he sees as peers and equals. Sherlock is decidedly less interested. This changes a bit through their character arcs, especially Sherlock’s, but let me see if I can explain this clearly. At the beginning of Doctor Strange, we see Stephen performing a surgery in front of residents (or med students, I don’t know), playing a music game with his assistant, and joking with his fellow surgeon. He asks Christine to join him at a dinner conference which is again, about his accolades. He likes getting the respect and admiration of his peers and those he considers friends, like Christine, straight from when we first meet him. When we first meet Sherlock, he doesn’t bother to explain why the ladder being green matters to Greg in the text. He asks for his name to be left out of the papers and definitely doesn’t do his work to impress the police force. If he was looking to get their admiration, he’d act a bit; we know that he can act. But he just doesn’t care what his peers (the police force) think of him at all. It’s not until John enters the picture that Sherlock starts showing off more by explaining his thought processes. Something about John intrigues him, and that grows exponentially when John saves his life at the end of the first episode. I’ve read fics where John’s described Sherlock as a peacock, but he really wasn’t like that until John came around, if the green ladder text and wanting to be kept out of the papers/public eye is any indication. Stephen, however, was most definitely the peacock. Stephen’s interest in acceptance pivots to the Masters of the Mystic Arts when he comes a student by his joking with Wong and Mordo. He’s interested in proving himself to them and gaining their praise and later on (I imagine) their friendship, though sadly we don’t have enough canon film time to see how his relationship with other sorcerers has grown since his first film. He’s likely conceded to the fact that his work is more secretive now, but for those in the know, he wants their acceptance and potential friendships. Sherlock’s bubble expands to wanting the acceptance and praise of maybe five people at most by the end of Season 4, but again, he’s not greatly interested in what his peers amongst the police force think. Wider praise and larger friendships has never been in the books for him. He’s completely content with the small group about him.

Stephen is on the extrovert side of the Myers-Briggs scale,  and Sherlock is on the introvert side. This slightly differs from his comic book self here; comic book Stephen is much more introverted. MCU Stephen isn’t a huge extrovert, but is obviously fully comfortable surrounded by people and being the star of the show, as seen by the beginning of the film. He’s fully content to do activities that are known as more “introverted” such as reading, but a love of reading doesn’t mean one is automatically an introvert. He doesn’t strike me as a personality that would get exhausted when needing to deal with people for longer amounts of time, as I’ve known the introverts in my life to be. Stephen is simply content both alone and with others, and when with others, he likes to show off from time to time. Sherlock, on the other hand, isn’t interested in the attention from the wider world and making friends. All of his preferred activities don’t involve other people and he definitely finds the idea of having to deal with people and societal norms tedious. If he’s showing off, it’s to impress a specific person as opposed to entertain a crowd. And unlike Stephen, I could see Sherlock being exhausted by parties and generally avoiding talking to most people, while Stephen, so long as he’s with a group with similar interests, could definitely talk about it for some time - whether it’s neuroscience or even the same music tastes.

Stephen is more sympathetic than Sherlock. This is not to say that Sherlock lacks sympathy, but as a detective he really has to have a cold detachment to the victims in order for emotions not to override his ability to do his job. This detachment is vital for surgeons as well when operating, and at the beginning of Doctor Strange Stephen could be considered too far in the cold detachment realm in selecting his patients, thinking about his record rather than if a procedure would be in the best interest of the patient due to health risks. This changes immensely with the loss of his career and his new path in life. I think the sympathetic tendencies of both characters can be best seen in how they deliver bad news to strangers:

The Sherlock screencap is from Season 4 Ep 1 (I wanted to select something after the hiatus and Magnusson so I had him after his growth). He’s telling a couple that their son tried to surprise them but ended up suffocating to death by accident. That look isn’t rude, but it’s very by-the-book, delivering the facts with very little emotion. Stephen is from Infinity War, before going through the Time Stone and whatever mess he dealt with in there. He’s telling Tony, not too long after meeting him, that the Time Stone comes above the lives of all of them, he and Peter included. The emotion that comes out on top is a grim determination, but even delivering this news, I would not say that it lacks sympathy. It’s a “this is how it has to happen; I’m sorry” type of emotion. The sympathy in his expression expands exponentially after the Time Stone, but canon hasn’t confirmed just how well he got to know the others. Was he just browsing through and pressing the “forward” button to view futures, or was he living through possible futures? The films haven’t told us yet. Hopefully we get clarification at some point. But that’s why I chose this screencap as opposed to the more obvious Time Stone scene. I think there’s further examples of their levels of sympathy such as Stephen’s reaction to the zealot he killed. One thing they are equal on in sympathy, though, is when it affects someone they care about. Sherlock is incredibly sympathetic to John after his loss, and the care Stephen shows to the Ancient One as she’s dying is very poignant.

Now there are also differences in their physicalities that Benedict does a fantastic job of portraying, such as the subtle shaking in Stephen’s hands in several scenes and Sherlock’s own hand gestures that vary completely from Stephen. They also move differently, and they move differently depending on their moods. He’s done a phenomenal job of distinguishing the two characters through physical motion alone.

Thanks for the interesting ask, anon.

[clockworkrosea]

911, what’s your emergency? (2)

→ summary: they were dangerous. she knew that, and yet, she continues to hunt them. and this? this is her retribution.

→ pairings: jeon jungkook/fem!reader, kim namjoon/oc

→ tw: blood, kidnapping, needles, mentions of the mafia, continue to check warnings on each chapter pls.

→ a/n: alright this one is significantly longer nice. quick explanation for my oc being in there: i wanted to explore the dynamics with a female leader. if y’all have more questions abt the oc feel free to send asks!! i like responding to people and i know my writing can be confusing lmao. finally, all my respect goes to 911 operators and emergency responders, your work is incredibly hard and the title is not meant to demean that in any way.

→ wc: 1.8k

→ disclaimer: this is not an accurate depiction of bts and anyone else mentioned in this fic. this is also not an accurate depiction of seoul’s police department, government, and any other institutions mentioned in this fic.

series masterlist

Sejin wasn’t totally sure how Y/N had gotten their location, but he trusted Namjoon and Hannah. They were smart, and if Y/N was going to witness something he was sure it wouldn’t be enough to do anything to them. Bang PD also approved it, so hopefully nothing would really go wrong. 

Instead of returning to his desk, he decided to go talk to his friends. Sejin signed out of the police precinct, supposedly heading home for the day.

Their house was a little far off from the main city, so Sejin first stopped at a small convenience store to grab some snacks and a bottle of water. The trip had never been an enjoyable one, as it wasn’t easy to find something so carefully hidden from the public.

Sejin arrived in two and a half hours.

“Sejin! You didn’t text any of us?" Jungkook exclaimed as he opened the door. The youngest was usually the most energetic, eyes bright and happy. Sejin smiled slightly, exhaustion clear in his eyes.

“I was busy, the investigation is picking up some speed.” Sejin says, stepping into the house. It’s loud, as usual, but it seemed that most of the noise was centralized. At least it wouldn’t be hard to ask them, before they supposedly went out. Jungkook nodded solemnly before he directed Sejin towards where they were probably sitting.

They were all gathered together, arguing over a movie they’d watched.

Looking at them, no one would have ever guessed they were deadly killers, the forces behind the most powerful mafia in Seoul. They seemed far too normal for that. He stood awkwardly against the doorframe, unsure what to do.

Namjoon and Hannah, both as observant as ever, noticed him quickly. They motioned him over, pointing to an open space on the couch. He walked over, dropping his bag next to his feet.

“I suppose our darling investigator is attending?” Hannah says, ignoring the commotion in the room. Namjoon stayed quiet, opting to simply smile at him instead. Sejin nods, suspicions confirmed. They’d masterminded Y/N’s discovery of their location, and they’d effectively stopped the whole operation against them.

“All of you are going? It’s not important, is it?” Sejin can’t help worrying about their safety. They’ve come so far from where he first seen them, so much so that it would be devastating for them to be caught now. Yet, they didn’t seem worried, almost as if they thought they were invincible.

In some ways, they really are.

“It’s a little important, I guess. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. She won’t be going back.” Namjoon speaks, and Sejin could have been terrified of the switch in Namjoon’s behaviour. He smiles quietly, settling down.

They have a little time before they all have to leave for the Incheon docks. Sejin relishes the little time he has with his friends. It isn’t often he sees them like this. Jungkook can laugh freely, Jimin finally smiles, and none of them are burdened with the weight of their past.

Then the clock hit 9pm, and they changed.

Namjoon and Hannah, ever the vigilant leaders, stood up and silenced the room. They slowly filed out of the room, still chatting animatedly. Sejin followed them out, waving goodbye as he walked back towards his own car.

They drove out to the Bukseong docks, one of their favourite spots for meetings. It was relatively open, but sheltered enough for them to feel comfortable.

Meanwhile, Y/N had headed home too. She’d been confident earlier, but anxiety was rapidly creeping in. She hadn’t known Sejin for long, so she knew nothing about him. Whether or not he was trustworthy was a large question mark.

Y/N set herself to work, getting her mind off her future task.

Before she realized it, the clock hit nine pm. The two hours had passed quickly, her distractions apparently working. Her anxiety decided to spike, forcing Y/N to sit right back down for a minute while she recovered. As soon as she’d managed to start breathing again, she grabbed her prepped bag and headed out the door.

It didn’t take her long to arrive at Bukseong, and it’d only taken her a couple minutes to find a suitable area for her to keep watch. She’d found her way onto a shack-like building situated right behind a building. Y/N had made sure she couldn’t be seen, but she could still hear the conversation and see most of the site.

The soft colours of the setting sun were a calming backdrop for what she would witness.

Y/N tensed as she heard the tell-tale sounds of cars approaching. Judging by the amount she could hear, she assumed this wasn’t Bangtan. From what she’d gathered, this was the other mafia, but she didn’t recognize them.

She decided not to look out yet. Her investigation was on BTS, not whoever this was, so it wouldn’t be good if her position was discovered so quickly. As far as she knew, cops weren’t taken too kindly, even if they were working for the mafia.

Around 10 minutes later, she could hear the soft rumble of two cars pulling up. Y/N finally decided to look out slightly, careful to keep her balance so she wouldn’t fall off the roof.

Two black SUVs were lined up. First to step out are both from the first car. A man in his mid-20s with silver hair, and a woman, also in her mid-20s and black hair, are the two. These are the leaders, Y/N notes. Even from where she’s hidden, she can feel the air of confidence and sheer power they exude.

Three other members exited from the same car. The first one had brown hair and the other two both had black. Automatically, Y/N tensed when she spotted the leaders whispering to the other two. The brown-haired one had glanced around quickly, surveying the area. As his eyes seemed to pass over her, she took a deep breath to calm herself.

From the other car, the remaining four members exit. In the quartet, two have black hair, while two have blonde hair. Y/N grimaced, realizing that despite the year she’d spent on this case, she couldn’t really identify or name any of them. To be fair, neither could anyone else, but that still got on her nerves.

How could it not? She’d been so invested for so long.

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts as the groups began approaching each other. She had a better view of the Bangtan members now, so she decided to take the time to examine each one.

From where she’s sat, she could hear bits and pieces of the discussion. It isn’t exactly clear what everyone’s names are, but she picked up the name Namjoon and Hannah. The female was obviously Hannah, but it’d be a wild guess as to who Namjoon was.

The leaders, Hannah and the silver-haired man, were standing in the middle. Hannah was the shortest out of all of them, although that wasn’t saying much considering they all were tall. She had long, flowing, black hair, and she was dressed pristinely. She’d only managed to spot semi-formal clothing before Hannah had turned away from her, and she could only tell she was wearing a beige trench coat with black jeans.

The other one, the man she'd dubbed simply dubbed “silver hair,” was similarly dressed. Beige trench coat, and as far ar Y/N could tell, all black clothing. His hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, the silver color heavily accentuated by the full moon. There wasn’t much Y/N would be able to distinguish about him if she ever saw him on the streets. Anyone could have silver hair, and she hadn’t seen anything before they’d turned away.

The three from the first car had ended up standing off to the same side. They were obviously relaxed, although the brown-haired one kept glancing around, giving Y/N a slight view of his face. He had high cheekbones, and his eyes were surprisingly soft. She unconsciously split his face into two halves: the top half, which radiated a kind soul, and the bottom half, signs of a hardened criminal.

From where she was sitting, the last three members were slightly obscured by the building. With the dark clothes and black hair, Y/N wasn’t sure she’d be able to distinguish anything anyways. With that, she refocused on the conversation, not noticing that there was only 7 members standing there, rather than the 8 that had arrived.

It was chaotic in the drive to the docks. Yoongi had lost track of how many times he’d threatened the trio that he would crash their very expensive car. Namjoon and Hannah would kill him, but it was probably worth it. They were fighting over who’d get to sneak off, although it had already been determined it was going to be Jungkook. Sometimes Yoongi would look in the mirror and he’d be surprised he still looked his age.

It wasn’t much better in the other car. The duo had been barely managing to keep everyone calm inside their car. Hannah had long since tuned out whatever they were now fighting over, instead opting to take a nap. Imagine her surprise when she’s woken up by Hoseok, who was complaining a little loudly about how his hair was messed up. Silently, she turned around, roughly brushing his hair back to its original position.

Everyone had spotted the sparkling sea, and they'd subsequently sobered up dramatically. Both cars had quickly fallen silent, despite the sound from before.

Hannah and Namjoon had stepped out first. She'd proceeded to nudge Hoseok, whispering about finding the investigator. Once they’d noticed the slight movement of someone behind a building, Hoseok motioned for Jungkook to move.

Neither Hannah nor Namjoon were paying much attention to the conversation. It wasn’t that important, as the main goal of this meeting was to get the investigator, not do any important deal. Namjoon kept an eye out for Jungkook in the shadows, carefully watching for his movement.

Y/N reaches for her phone as the world darkens around her.

Jungkook later admitted that she was cute. At the present moment however, he’s annoyed that he’s been selected for this honor. As strong as he was, it wasn’t easy to drag dead weight. He managed, though it was with no small amount of cursing.

Yoongi’s car was chosen, since they had one more space, and they technically had the stronger members. So Jungkook dropped her in the middle seat, and Taehyung bound her hands and feet together tightly. Jimin put a cloth to the wound at her head, stopping the blood from flowing onto the seats.

Before they arrived at their house, Jungkook had to anesthetize her, since they weren’t really supposed to cause permanent damage. They placed her in the White Room, waiting for her to wake up.

→ a/n: the white room is basically a holding cell that they call the white room ironically, cause it’s literally never white. also if u wish to be tagged simply ask, but i’m not sure this series is good enough reEe. feel free to ask any questions, this chapter had a lot of pov switches.

[knifeshoeoreofight]

He keeps dreaming of snow. 

It’s July. The weather is warm and sticky, and the sun has been blazing hot for weeks. And he dreams about snow.

It’s the same every time. A lake fringed with dark trees, the ice covered in a flawless expanse of white. Blank and perfect. In the dream, he has a pair of skates slung over his shoulder by the laces. When he swings them down to untie the knots and get them on his feet, they’re always a different pair he recognizes.

The first pair of good skates he’d received as a child, still able to fit him in the boundless logic of dreaming. He’d fallen asleep clutching them to his chest when he’d gotten them that Christmas. Stuffed dog under one arm, skates under the other. 

The beat up pair he hid in Rimouski, so that he could practice even after they took away his regular skates. The same ones he’d take to play shinny in the park, just to feel a little normal. Free.

The pair he wore to win gold in Vancouver, gleaming and perfect. 

In the dream he sits on a snowbank and pulls the skates on, and then he’s on the ice. You can’t skate on snow-covered ice, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Dream logic again.

The dark trees around the lake never grow closer, no matter how hard he skates for the opposite shore. Always, he ends up standing in the middle of that blank, unsettling expanse of white, frustrated. When he looks behind him, there’s never a mark in the featureless snow to show where he’s been. Nothing.

And he wakes up then, usually, disturbed and wondering why the fuck he’s dreaming that dream again. 

***

He’s busy enough.The flurry of early summer weddings has petered out, finally. He loves his friends’ happiness, but the annual glut gets…old. Exhausting.

He has a few media obligations, some pre-planned get togethers with Nate and any of the boys who happen to be in town. He’s ramping up the training. But he still has too much damn time to brood in between it all. You’d think he’d be able to get the bad taste of last season out of his mouth by now, but it lingers, their ignominious playoff exit following him like a shadow.

He fishes, he paddleboards. He golfs. He trains some more. He tries going to the farmer’s market and has to leave after fifteen minutes because of the commotion his appearance causes. He teaches himself how to make gluten free parmesan chicken from the Internet.

He checks social media, liking pictures of babies and dogs and summertime shenanigans on Instagram. He uploads a photo of his dock at sunrise to his private one, to a flurry of likes and chirping about being a boring old man, fishing all day. 

It’s a little funny but it stings a bit too. He doesn’t like to think of himself as old. He’s not, by ordinary standards. But he is in hockey years, and it terrifies him sometimes. 

He should post more often, then maybe he’d get less shit from the guys. He’d only made his account in the first place so that he could follow the people that mattered to him. 

He wakes up early to find that Geno commented a string of parentheses and a couple incomprehensible emojis. 

He’s given up trying to interpret what Geno means by them; he’s 90% sure he just picks the weirdest ones possible just to fuck with people. 

Sid ponders what to respond, and finally settles on turtle, Brazillian flag, paperclip. There, let him have a taste of his own medicine. 

i dont get it, jake posts underneath. Probably sex stuff, replies Flower. better not to ask. 

Asshole, Sid replies, and feels his face flush. It’s all meant as a joke, but thinking of sex and Geno too close together is always a problem, and he buries the well-worn thing he doesn’t acknowledge like he always does. 

***

The next time he has the dream, there’s someone else there. He doesn’t see them, but their presence behind him lies on him like a weight.

He stops in the middle of the lake like he always does. The presence behind him stops too.

“Hey,” Sid says, more as an inquiry than a greeting.

Some small bit of dream-awareness slots into place, and he knows that it’s Geno, behind him.

“Three years Superleague, huh?” Sid says. It’s good, and right, Geno standing behind him.

***

More training. A podcast recording with Biz and Whit that actually ends up being a lot of fun. Just shooting the shit and swapping stories. 

They ask him about Geno, of course, angling for some dirt, some “ha ha he’s so Russian” and “what a bully” kind of shit. Sid doesn’t give them anything.

Geno, Sid has always thought, is more just like an enormous cat. A little moody and opinionated, liking things to be just so. Affectionate and friendly only on his own terms. He’s always wondered if that was mostly due to the language barrier, or if it’s just how Geno is. He used to watch whenever Geno spoke to Gonch, or his friends on other teams. Listen to the faster cadence of his voice, the expansive movements of his hands, the expressiveness of his face. Trying to figure out who Geno really was when he was comfortable and at ease.

He used to watch Geno way too much in those days.

It’s still a problem sometimes.

Geno always treated Sid a little differently. All of his brash pushiness is tempered a little. He always looks into Sid’s eyes when Sid is trying to tell him something, leaning in and listening with his whole body. Sid has never taken that deference and respect for granted, treating Geno’s fierce loyalty as the precious honor it is.Geno gives zero consequence to people he’s decided he doesn’t like or respect. He isn’t like Sid, he doesn’t bother to reign in his colossal emotions or attempt a veneer of politeness or charm. If he’s done with you he’s done with you. 

Geno is Geno, and Sid, god help him, has always loved him for it.

***

He has the dream again, and it’s accompanied by a creeping sense of dread. He and the Geno-presence take to the ice. In the middle of the lake, instead of smooth white, the snow is broken by a series of jagged cracks, dark water sloshing malevolently inches from Sid’s skates. 

“Fuck, look out–” he tells Dream-Geno, but Dream-Geno steps past him, for the first time.

“Geno!” Sid tries to scream, but he doesn’t have the air. In the disjointed way of dreams, Sid just knows that Dream-Geno is in the water now, even if he didn’t see anything happen. 

He drops to his knees, and reaches out. The water looks liquid, but his fingers scrabble along it like it’s ice. He claws at it, horror and desperation cresting over him. He’s trying to scream Geno’s name, but he can’t- he just can’t- 

When he wakes up, he’s gasping, heart trying to pound its way out of his chest. He’s disoriented for a split second, grief crushing, until he wakes up further and realizes he was dreaming. 

He sits up with a groan, shreds of the dream and its dread slowly fading around him. Fuck. He hasn’t had a nightmare like that in years. 

He checks the time on his phone, curses to see that it’s three thirty in the morning. He drags himself up, flinching as he flips the bathroom light on. He takes a piss, and splashes water on his face as if he can wash away the lingering awfulness of the dream.

So weird. He hadn’t really seen anything, but the emotions themselves had felt so real. 

Back in bed, he almost doesn’t want to go back to sleep. He feels wide awake anyway. What he wants to do, is. 

Incredibly stupid.

Good for a lifetime of shit-talking if Geno tells anyone.

He does it anyway. 

You up? He texts Geno. It’s nine-something am in Moscow, so who knows. Geno’s not exactly a morning person.

There’s no answer, for long enough that he starts to feel even more colossally lame than he already did. 

Then his phone rings, making him jump. Fuck.

“Sid?” Geno says when he picks up. “What’s happen? It’s night for you.”

God, his voice. Deep and rumbling right in his ear. Accent thick like it always gets over the summer when he doesn’t use his English for months. Sid feels something in him let go, soothed by a living, breathing Geno at the other end of the line. But, then, he realizes that he now has to come up with an explanation that isn’t just, “hey bud, just had a real bad dream, wish you were here to fucking tuck me in, eh?” 

“Uh. I’m okay it’s just… I was thinking.”

There’s a judgmental silence on the other end of the line. Sid pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“You’re gonna chirp me forever, man. I, uh. I’ve been having this dream.” 

“Whaat?” Geno draws the word out, somehow conveying both amusement and disbelief. 

“I know, I know. But I’ve been having this stupid dream about skating on a lake, yeah? Just over and over. It’s fucking weird. And you were there? I think. The last few times, anyway. And this time there were these cracks in the ice, and you fell in. You know how even if it doesn’t make sense, for a second in a dream your brain doesn’t know the difference? Well. You, you were dead.” 

He pauses, realizing he’s babbling, how stupid this is. Shame washes over him. 

“Okay…” Geno says, clearly trying to take all of that in. “Sorry for dream?”

“Not your fault,” Sid says automatically. “So, yeah. Pretty much I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Geno huffs out a laugh. “Okay. I’m doing good, so.” There’s a pause, like he’s considering something. 

“It’s little bit cute, you know? Call me for scared.” His tone is amused but not as teasing as Sid would expect.

Still. Cute.

“Oh my god,” Sid groans, and flops back into his pillows.

“So stupid,” he says, more to himself then to Geno.

“No, no,” Geno says, and he’s definitely laughing now. “It’s fine, most cute. Can call me, I can give you some story, for sleep. Maybe some song.”

“Fuck off,” Sidney gripes, but he’s kind of smiling at the ceiling now, like a dweeb. 

Geno yawns, then audibly settles back into the bed or couch he’s probably lounging on. “So, keep having dream?”

“Yeah, over and over. No idea why.”

“Stress?”

Sid is quiet for a moment, wondering how to answer. “Maybe. My birthday, the season coming up. You know.”

“You captain,” Geno says. “Lots things for worry.” The matter of fact way he says it is comforting, somehow. “You need come here. Have fun in Russia.”

“Naw. The visa would take too long to get,” Sid says, wondering if Geno means it, if he’d really like to show Sid around Moscow.

“You know how long it’s take?” Geno sounds amused again, like he’s smiling. “You think about?” 

“Oh, off and on,” Sid answers. “Over the years, you know.”

“Should do, Russia best.”

Sid laughs. “Oh, for sure.”

“You do, you come. We go to banya, we eat Russian food. You can go to some museum, so boring.”

It sounds… really good. It makes an old ache start up behind Sid’s ribcage to think about it, but it sounds good. Especially if…

There’s always been an expiration date on Geno’s time in the US. And if this season is as bad as the last–

Sid tamps down the urge to surrender to the loss he can sense hovering on the horizon. 

“That sounds amazing, G. I want to, I really do. What about next summer? I can make sure the paperwork is all set up ahead of time.” Something to look forward to in that summer, no matter what. A way to delay Geno from slipping through his fingers if Geno decides he’s finally had it.

He’s being irrational, he knows. Geno has a contract. And yet.

“Yes, we do,” Geno says, with finality. “You come.”

They’re both quiet for a moment. Then there’s a bit of rustling on Geno’s end, like he’s sitting up. He sounds more awake when he speaks again.

“I can come early, now. Go to Canada first.”

Sid blinks, his lips parting in surprise. “Come here? To Nova Scotia? You’d want to?”

“No more bad dream,” Geno coos mockingly, and Sid has to laugh.

“You gonna tuck me in at night, eh?” Fuck, no, what is he doing. That sounds like he’s trying to flirt, or something. He needs to backpedal. 

“For real though. I’d always love to have you visit, you know that. I just thought, it’s a little quiet, maybe. Boring.” His voice, damn it, is a lot softer than he meant it to sound. Maybe revealing a little too much. He hopes Geno isn’t paying attention.

“Mooost boring,” Geno drawls. Then, firmly: “I come. You can show me fishing. No golf.” 

Something stupid and anticipatory flutters in Sidney’s gut. “Sure, okay. Let’s uh, work out the details.” Fuck.

***

Geno plans to go to Miami for a week, then to Sid’s, then to fly together down to Pittsburgh for training camp. He grouses a little at needing to be early because Sid is the captain and always shows up in town first. 

He grumbles but then he’s there in a week and a half, tanned and insolent with a backwards SnapBack on his head, rolling a lollipop stick between his teeth and disturbing Sid’s whole universe.

He pulls Sid in for a one armed hug and a backslap, right there in the terminal. He smells like airplane and very nice cologne, and Sid wonders why the hell he allowed this to happen.

He’s exhausted but looks around avidly as they take the 102 down to Dartmouth.

“Flat,” he says thoughtfully. “Big sky. Like Russia.”

Sid feels disproportionately pleased about that. 

It’s so strange, looking at home through Geno’s eyes, or trying to. He wants him to like it. 

“Halifax is across the harbor from where we are now,” Sid explains. “We can take a look around tomorrow.”

“I’m look Google Earth,” Geno says. “Little bit. Pretty.”

“It is,” Sid agrees. 

There’s a strange little smile playing around Geno’s lips as he takes in his surroundings. Sid isn’t quite sure what it means.

When they get to Sid’s place, Geno unfolds his long legs from the car and shoves his sunglasses up on his head. He just stands there for a minute, looking at the house, the sliver of lake visible through the trees. 

Then he looks at Sid, like he’s fitting Sid into this place in his mind. That wry little smile is back.

“Looks like you,” he says, and Sid isn’t quite sure what he means. 

***

Sid takes Geno out on the lake to fish. He takes him to the rink for training, where Geno imperiously nods once at Nate and then proceeds to ignore him for the rest of the drills. He stands in the lobby for a long time, looking at the display of Sid’s jerseys and photos. He takes a picture of one of Sid’s Timbits photos with his phone. 

Sid takes him around Halifax, as promised, then to his parent’s house, where Geno is all charm and bashful politeness, helping Sid’s mom in the kitchen and talking hockey with Sid’s dad. 

In every place, it’s a strange collision of worlds. Sid has to stop himself from just, staring all the time. Geno, here in his life. Lying on the floor of his parents’ living room to fuss over Sam. Rifling through Sid’s cabinets to judge his lack of acceptable tea. Strapping on his pads in the locker room of the rink where Sid learned to skate. 

He fits easier than Sid had imagined, and that ache seems to sit in his chest all the time now.

***

Geno’s been there nearly a week when Sid has the dream again. Same thing, with Geno disappearing into the dark water. 

Sid wakes up drenched in sweat, and swears before stumbling as quietly as he can to his kitchen for cold water from the Brita in the fridge. 

“Sid?”

Sid yelps, sloshing water all over the counter. “Fuck!” 

Geno’s lying on the couch in the living room, awash in the blue light of the muted television. 

“What are you doing up? Did I wake you?” 

“Still little bit jet lag. What’s happen? Dream, again?” 

Sid takes his glass of water and stands pointedly by the couch until Geno pulls up his knees and frees a space for Sid to sit. 

“Yeah.” Sid sighs. “So stupid.” He rubs at his eyes. 

“I’m die?” 

Sid stares ahead at the silent TV. It’s showing an ad for Canadian Tire. He’s not sure how he feels about talking about this, least of all talking about it with Geno. “Uh huh.” 

Geno scoots partially upright, and regards Sid with a surprising amount of gravity. 

“What you worry about, Sid?” he says, and it’s quiet, his voice low. 

Sid can’t look at him. He takes a long swallow of water and sets his glass carefully on the coffee table, trying to decide how honest to be. 

He’s too tired, on too many levels, to say anything other than the truth. 

“That if we have another season like we did, you’ll decide you’re done.” 

Geno whole face seems to go soft, his mouth dropping open a little. 

“I know,” Sid says quickly. “I know, this is so stupid, but I just—” 

Geno swings his feet to the floor, and suddenly he’s right there next to him, so close their thighs are almost touching. 

“Sid,” Geno says, and waits to continue until Sid looks over at him. 

“Until I’m hurt or you leave, I’m not leave Penguins.” 

His voice is softer and more reassuring than Sid has ever heard it before. What is happening. 

He can’t speak for a moment. 

“I, uh. Fuck, G.” 

Geno is just. Sitting there so close Sid can feel the heat of his body, looking at Sid with dark, serious eyes. 

Sid wants to kiss him. Wants to push him back onto the couch and mark him up. Something must have shown in his face because Geno tilts his head, brows drawing together in puzzlement. 

“Sid?”

Sid shakes his head. He has to get It together, in so many ways. 

“No, yeah, sorry I just.” He sighs. “Thank you, G. I can’t tell you how much that means.” 

Geno makes a hum of agreement, and stands, extending a hand to Sid. Sid shouldn’t take it but he does, let’s Geno haul him to his feet, and lets Geno…pull him in for a hug apparently. Oh no. 

This time Geno smells like the body wash Sid keeps in the guest bedroom, and his worn t shirt is soft against Sid’s cheek. 

It’s a curiously long embrace, and when Geno’s arms tighten Sid allows himself the indulgence of relaxing, letting himself melt into it. 

Geno raises one hand and lays it heavily on the nape of Sid’s neck. He eases back so he can look into Sid’s face. 

Sid can’t tell what he’s thinking. And he himself can’t think at all, not with Geno’s hand pressing onto his neck and his everything so, so close. 

He realizes, slowly, that Geno’s hands are shaking. 

“G?”

“Sid,” Geno says, husky and so low. 

Sid feels outside of his body, incredulous that this is really, actually happening as Geno, very slowly, leans in, pausing just a hairsbreadth from Sid’s lips. 

“Sid?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, and tilts his head up to cross that final bit of separation. 

Geno’s kiss is soft lips and hot mouth, gasped breaths and possessive sweeps of those huge hands. 

Sid shudders in his arms as Geno moves to his neck, trailing kisses across his jaw and down to the skin bared by the vee of his sleep shirt. 

Sid tugs them backwards, folding when the couch hits the back of his legs and pulling Geno down over him. 

He’s greedy, he’s starving. He can’t touch enough skin, he can’t get Geno close enough. He sets his teeth where Geno’s neck meets his shoulder and nearly keens when Geno moans and responds with a slow, devastating roll of his hips. 

“Geno, is this— are you—“

Geno pushes himself upright enough to look Sid in the eyes. 

“Won’t leave, Sid. Can’t.”

“I’ve wanted this,” Sid confesses. “I’ve wanted this for a really long time.”

“Good,” Geno says, and rolls his hips again. 

“I can’t just do a, a one time fuck or—“ 

“No,” Geno says sharply. “No.” He leans on one elbow so that he can lay a hand on Sid’s cheek. “We’re like this, you know? Mine.” 

Sid feels too bright and expansive for his skin. He fists a hand in Geno’s t-shirt and tugs him closer. 

“Mine,” he echoes, and Geno groans, responding to another tug and taking Sid’s mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. 

Hands and mouths and the greedy rocking of their bodies bring them to completion within moments of each other. 

Sid lies there after, stroking his hand over Geno’s head where he’s laid it on Sid’s chest. He’s sprawled over Sid like a gigantic, clingy octopus, and Sid is feeling the kind of incredulous elation he normally associates with Cups and Olympic gold. 

“Thanks for coming, G,” he says, and although he meant “coming to Canada,” 

Geno snorts. 

“You know what I mean, dickhead,” Sid says, laughing. 

“I mean it,” he says a few minutes later. “I’m just, yeah.” 

Geno smiles at him like that made perfect sense, and doesn’t protest when Sid prods him upright and tugs him along into Sid’s bedroom. 

***

Jet lag or not, Geno falls asleep with Sid spooned up behind him, and is still asleep when Sid wakes up to the mid-morning sun streaming in the windows. Heart impossibly full, the old ache released and gone, Sid presses a kiss to the sun-gilded skin of Geno’s shoulder. 

He had dreamt of the lake again, but this time, as happened for him only rarely, he’d lucid-dreamed. 

“No,” he’d told Dream-Geno, and turned his back on the lake. Which suddenly was a completely frozen Monongahela River. 

He points up the bank, towards the arena. “We’ve got a game to get to.” 

Dream-Geno put his hand in Sid’s, and leaned down to kiss his hair. 

“Let’s go,” he tells Sid, and they walk up the bank together.

[snow-lavender]

The Last Day of Mediocrity

AKA, “Enter Marvin, Stage Left.”

Word count: 2382

Here’s a little ditty I like to call: Whoopsie, completely forgot to put these on Tumblr so now I’m posting three chapters in rapid succession. This is my take on Marvin’s creation, hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link Here

Marvin O’Sullivan paced around his apartment, talking animatedly on the phone. “It was great, you shoulda seen the kid’s face! I think Luke took a video of it. And we made so much cash, I’m gonna make my rent and then some this winter.”

“So what I’m hearing is ‘I had a great time, Emily, thank you for convincing me to go even though I was being a stubborn brat.” replied the phone.

Marvin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry for being a dick about it. But c’mon, cut me some slack! This was my first time leaving the country.”

“Well, that’s the kind of shit that happens when you’re homeschooled.”

“I’m not disagreeing.” Marvin snorted. He sat down on his sofa and started flipping through a book. “Really, Em, thank you for letting me take your spot.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” she said. “Gotta keep the talent fresh, am I right? Seems like it did you some good.”

“Yeah, it did. I got so inspired by the other performers there, I gotta jot some of these ideas down. Talk to you soon?”

“Sure will. Bye Marv.”

“Bye Em.” 

Marvin hung up the phone and slumped back into the couch. He summoned his notebook and started writing.

quick change?

Art on stage for ambience ambiance

More riffing w/ audience

kid orented set?

balancing shit

Amethyst out of juice

Need more rosemary

Flashier teleportation: saltpeter, indigo? got a theme

buy coffee

Small flames

↑LOTS OF PRACTICE↑

Aura residue on cards 

After a few minutes of brainstorming, he put down the notepad. If he was going to get

anything done, he needed to do some shopping. Which then lead to the hardest decision of any day. 

What to do about his face. 

He fiddled with the crude mask in his hands. Deal with disgust, or deal with disapproval? There was, of course, no good option. Either way people were going to stare at him. And normally he loved the attention. Hell, it was why he chose a career as a busker. But then, it was okay to be wearing a marker-covered mask from Poundland. At Tesco, not so much.

His hands automatically went to his cheek. Even after five years, the skin was scarred and rough. He remembered the doctor saying it would be that way for the rest of his life, never fully healing.

The flames around him grew higher as he screamed, Ma, please, help me! 

He stopped that train of thought right in its tracks. He was better off now. He was a fairly successful performer, he was providing for himself. He had coworkers who respected him, and people at the local coven who said he was the most talented wizard they’d seen in years. Hell, he even went to Pride in Dublin last month! Everything in his life was flying in the face of those assholes.

He was strong. He was accomplished. He was magnificent.

“Fuck it.”, he muttered, pulling the mask over his face.

Today, he was going to be who he wanted, general public be damned.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

A few hours later, he returned to his flat, arms full of bags. He hung his mask up and shoved the door closed with his hip, making a beeline for his kitchen. The green light from the orb reflected off some of the cans and into his face, so he put those away first. Then he threw the beef in the fridge, restocked the butter, and shit, he was almost out of jam. Why didn’t he notice that this morning?

Finished with the groceries, he closed the pantry and grabbed the other bags. The more volatile plants would need to be stored carefully to prevent reactions, and he needed to grab some iron shavings for that new potion, and-

Wait.

Green glowing orb?

Marvin turned toward the TV, confused. Sure enough, there was a strange sphere floating above his sofa.

What the hell?!

He backed himself slowly into the wall. Thankfully, it didn’t react, but he still moved very carefully toward the hall. As soon as he figured he was out of its line of sight, he ran into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. 

“Okay, okay, calm down.” he whispered. He couldn’t think of any recent spells that could have caused...that.

Which meant this was something else. An intruder?

He ran for his bookshelf. Panicking, he pulled out the largest book he could find and started flipping through it. “No... no...no, come on!” He dropped that one and grabbed another. Halfway through it, he found the section on wards. “Okay, okay, weak, strong, proactive.. ...reactive!”. Silently cheering, he went over the spell in his head. Nothing too complex, just some clove and mugwort. He dogeared the page, grabbed those herbs, and left his room.

The orb was still there.

Marvin cursed and laid the supplies in front of him. He opened the book and started to cast the spell. 

“Cruinne beannaithe, iarr mé do chumhacht. Moladh dom neart agus rath a thabhairt dom.”

Purple energy began to swirl around him. He relaxed, but then noticed the other light source was growing brighter.

“Bacainn a chur in aghaidh olc. Cosain an teach seo ó dhaoine ar mian leo dochar a dhéanamh orm!”

His voice grew louder with fear. The things should have been weakening by now! He squinted, the light making it harder to read. 

“Iarr mé go héasca-”

Just as he reached the climax of the spell, the light became overpowering. He dropped the book to cover his face, and his magic vanished. He could feel power swirling around him, foreign and uncomfortable. It grew brighter and more stifling, making him cry out, until suddenly there was a flash, and everything disappeared.

Including himself.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Several miles away, he crashed to the floor. “Shit, shit, shit.” he muttered, scrambling for his spellbook. If he was quick, he could whip up a teleport before anyone noticed he was here-

“Uhh…”

Marvin whipped around. Standing in a doorway was a dumbfounded teenager, holding a steaming mug. He froze, still on his knees, grasping the book. “Hi….?” continued the teen.

Marvin was on his feet in a second. “I don’t know who you are, but let me go, now, and no one will get hurt.” he snarled. The other guy took a step back. “What? Let you go? You’re the one who materialized in my cousin’s flat!”

Marvin lowered his hands. “You didn’t summon me here?” he asked. “Then what was that light in my living room?”

“Light?” the kid repeated. He perked up. “Like a green, glowy orb thing?” 

Marvin nodded. “Okay, great!” the other said. “I mean, not super great, cause I bet you’re confused as hell, but that explains a lot!” He fished a phone out of his hoodie pocket. “I’ll text Seán. He’ll need a few minutes to stop recording, but then he can help you figure stuff out. You’re probably Marvin, right?”

Marvin bristled. “How do you know my name?” he hissed.

Kid shrugged. “It’s kinda complicated.” He held out a hand. “I’m Jackie. You want anything to drink? There’s still hot water in the kettle, I think.”

“Sure.” he replied, shaking Jackie’s hand warily. Marvin followed him into the kitchen, not wanting to let this stranger out of his sight. “You cast the spell that pulled me here, then?”

“Pfft, nah.” Jackie snorted. “I can’t do magic. Not traditionally, anyhow. That’s Seán’s scene.” He pulled another mug out of the cupboard. “Earl grey cool?”

“And Seán is your...cousin? The one who owns the flat?” Marvin guessed, leaning against the wall.

“Eehhh…”Jackie replied. “Technically no? He’s got custody of me, but we’re not...exactly...related. At all.”

“Then why..?”

“So we may have fudged the papers a bit. But hey, no harm done, right?”

Marvin stared at him. “And you’re just telling me, a random stranger, this? Not a great way to stay in his custody.”

Jackie shrugged, pouring more tea. “You’re gonna be living with us anyway, so why not?”

“Wait, what the hell?” Marvin stood up suddenly. “How did you get to that conclusion?”

“Shit.” Jackie replied. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, usually people like us stick together. I think. I’m still the first one here, but with the others, it seemed like-” he stopped. “Marvin, you okay?”

Marvin wasn’t listening. What the fuck did he mean by that? He’d said he wasn’t trapping him here! He hadn't felt any wards when he’d got here, but Jackie had acted like he wasn’t leaving. How was he so calm about this? His chest was tightening. Was it darker magic that had brought him here? Was this Seán dude a warlock, had he brainwashed this kid? He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want any exposure to corrupt magic. The last time that had happened…

What the hell are you talking about? Please, just help me!

“Hey, Marvin, dude.”

Marvin’s head snapped up. When had he sat on the floor?

Jackie knelt next to him. “You back with me?” he asked.

“Y-yeah.” Marvin stuttered, accepting Jackie’s help as he stood up.

Jackie nodded. “Great. You really spaced out there for a sec.”

Marvin rubbed at his face. “Sorry, I-” he stiffened. He didn’t have his mask.

Jackie backed up as Marvin started looking around frantically. “You need something or…”

“My mask. Did you see where it fell?” 

Jackie shook his head. “I didn’t see any mask.”

“I need it.” Marvin insisted. He hated how standoffish he sounded, but this was important.

Jackie bit his lip. “I can go look, if that would help.”

“I need it.” Marvin repeated. “People are going to see.” See...see…

But Jackie had already seen his face. He hadn't been wearing it when the orb had shown up.

“Yeah, I got nothing.” Jackie said, returning to the kitchen. When had he left?

“Never mind.” Marvin said shortly.

“Are you sure? It sounded important-”

“Just drop it.” Marvin, pushing Jackie aside.

Jackie looked lost. “Oookay?” Then his phone dinged. “Oh! Seán’s finished recording. He’ll be down in a sec.”

Right. Fuck.

Marvin turned back to the living room. “So what exactly is going on?” he asked as they sat on the couch. His hands twitched, ready to cast at any moment. 

“What did you need Jackie?” a new voice said. 

Marvin turned. Standing in the hall was a man a few years older than him, maybe 25? He looked confused, but that changed to shock when he saw Marvin. “Oh.”

“Tada…” Jackie said, doing jazz hands in Marvin’s direction. He stopped when Marvin glared at him. “Where the hell am I?” he demanded, standing up. “He says you pulled me here. What the fuck do you want?” His hands glowed purple. 

Seán raised his hands. “Calm down man. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Marvin’s eyes narrowed. “Explain. Now.” 

“You know what a tulpa is?” 

“Yeah, so?”

“Okay, so, as far as I can tell, sometimes the universe tries to make tulpas based on characters I do, but it gets lazy and just pulls someone similar here instead.”

Marvin stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Look, I don’t get it either. Jackie can vouch for me though, he got pulled here when I did a superhero character last month.” The teen waved nervously.

“What, and you think I’m like that? I’m human, not preternatural. Don’t pull that ‘magicians are a different race’ shit, that got disproven in the seventies.”

Seán pulled a face. “Hell no. I’m just trying to make an analogy. Nothing really fits with this situation.”

“Just...okay, fine, I’ll go along with this. For now.” Marvin said, rubbing at his face.

Seán stuck out a hand. “I’m Seán McLoughlin. Nice to meet you.”

Marvin shook it. “Marvin O’Sullivan.”

“Wait, wait?” Seán pulled back. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen you since we were kids! How have you been?”

“Huh?” Marvin squinted at him. Then it clicked. “Jack!?”

Seán beamed. “Yeah! Man, of all people...it’s good to see you.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Jackie interrupted. 

“The McLoughlins used to be some of the strongest magic users out there. My parents wanted connections, so we used to hang out.” Marvin explained.

“Yeah, I was the only kid in our family around his age, so we’d play together when the adults were talking.”

Marvin looked Seán up and down. He seemed to be doing pretty well for himself. He was almost as energetic and happy as he had been when they were kids. And if that hadn’t changed, well, he didn't seem like the type to deal with shady magic.

“Alright then. What was it you were saying about tulpas?”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Marvin stared out the window of the bus. Thankfully, Seán had paid for his fare back to Galway, since he’d left his wallet in his flat. He’d be back to his place by midnight.

This was a lot to process. Meeting someone from his childhood like that, well, it had brought a lot back up. Stuff he’d rather keep buried. He’d burned most of those bridges, and the rest had been burned for him. Now, a lot of the wreckage from those fires was coming to light.

Oh yeah, and the whole “figment of the imagination” thing. That was a lot to take in too.

Still, it was nice to see Jack again. 

Marvin looked down at his phone. Seán had given him his number if they needed to get back in touch. 

Of all the people he used to be close to, Jack was probably the least asshole-y. Maybe talking to him more would be nice. Especially since they had similar backgrounds.

The drive to Athlone was short enough that he could travel it for a weekend.

He opened the texting app.

From: M. O’Sullivan

To: S. McLoughlin

M.O.: Hey, could I come back up in a few days? I’d like to hang out more.

A few moments later, the phone dinged with a reply.

S.M.: Sure thing! :) 

[choerrypuffs]

ooh how bout a billionaire! kun scenarios (KINDA LIKE TAKE OFF LOL) ps. i love sicheng's vigilante fic. that- that was beautiful. and the chase? my 3 am sleep deprived heart was THRIVING

pairing: billionaire!kun x reader

genre: angst

word count: 1.4k

author’s note: kun made the take off mv (and me) his bitch and i really respect him for that (ps: you’re so cute uwu i’m glad you enjoyed both fics!!!) also sad hours are open

The room goes silent when he walks in.

Your back is turned to him, but you can feel his aura radiating from behind you. Your fingers tighten around your flute of champagne as your force yourself to stiffly turn around. Because if you didn’t, you’d be the only person in the room not looking at him. 

Qian Kun is standing in the doorway, hands casually tucked in his pockets like he didn’t just single-handedly stop the flow of an entire room of people. He’s wearing a crisp Gucci suit and when he takes a hand out to wave, you see the gold rings on his fingers and the Rolex on his wrist. His face looks exactly the same as it did when you last saw him, but there’s a confidence in his eyes that wasn’t there before. His shoulders are squared and he stands tall.

At the age of 28, Kun is one of the world’s youngest self-made billionaires and most sought after bachelor in Asia. 

(AKA way too qualified and famous to be attending his goddamn high school reunion.)

He’s also your ex, which only makes things even more absurd than it already is. The two of you dated throughout your senior year of high school and broke up during your freshman year of college. Kun attended a highbrow college that was out of the country, while you just went to your local one. It quickly became clear to you that he was apart of a world that did not have a place for you, so you ended it. The breakup was abrupt and he was completely blindsided, but you decided that was for the better. You haven’t been in contact with him since and seeing him now was bringing back feelings that you thought you had buried a long time ago. 

Without thinking, you immediately duck your head and try to hide behind your hair when Kun walks past the table you’re sitting at to hug Lee Taeyong, one of his old friends and most likely the person who invited him. Everyone around you is talking in hushed whispers, obviously all about Kun. Downing the rest of your champagne, you begin thinking of excuses to bail. 

Unfortunately, you don’t get much time to think about it because Kun walks directly towards you and sits in the empty spot right next to yours. You’re hit with a dizzying wave of his familiar scent and wonder how someone can smell exactly the same after ten whole years. Even after all this time, he reminds you of home and your body involuntarily relaxes at its familiarity. Though your racing heart does not. 

“Hi, everyone. Mind if I join your table?” Kun asks, but he’s only looking at you. Avoiding his gaze, you stare at your empty glass. 

“Not at all!” A girl whose name you can’t quite recall answers with a chipper tone. “Want some champagne?” 

He doesn’t drink, you want to say. 

“I don’t drink,” he declines politely, “but thank you.” 

The rest of the table and Kun make small talk while you continue to just stay still and do nothing. You don’t understand why he decided to sit here of all places, having a conversation with people whose names he probably doesn’t even remember, instead of with his friends.

Is he trying to taunt me or something? 

But you suppose you deserve it after what you did to him.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Y/N. Starstruck?” The same girl teases.

You give her a small smile. “Just tired. I should probably go actually. I have an early shift tomorrow.” 

A lie, but you needed to get out of here ASAP. 

“I’ll drive you,” Kun says, standing up. 

“No!” you say a little too quickly, awkwardly clearing your throat. “You just got here after all. I’ll call a cab.” 

“I insist,” he continues, “no need to waste money.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re pretty thrifty for a billionaire.” 

He cocks his head slightly to the side, grinning at you. You’ve always had a weakness for those damn dimples of his. “How do you think I became one?” 

“Some things never change, huh?” you joke and then instantly freeze, not realizing you’re starting to bring up the past. 

Kun doesn’t respond, simply fishing his keys out of his pocket and nodding toward the exit. “After you.” 

You want to say no, you have to say no. Everything about this situation is a terrible idea. Kun just standing here is sending your brain into a tailspin, much less being alone with him in a car and running the risk of saying something you shouldn’t. You know that, yet your resistance is already starting to fade away. 

(Maybe because you secretly want this.)

Clenching your fists, you walk toward the exit and he opens the door for you. The two of you walk in silence to the parking garage. Once you get there, it’s not very difficult to pinpoint his car. You don’t even ask, making a beeline for the bright red Ferrari. When you try to open the door to the passenger seat, Kun presses a button on his key and the doors automatically open. You try not to roll your eyes as you slip inside and put on your seat belt. 

“Where to?” Kun asks as he starts the car, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. You mumble your address and his brows shoot up in surprise. “You still live there?” 

“I’m an elementary school teacher. I don’t exactly have the finances to just pick up and move,” you say, crossing your arms. 

He smiles and leans back against his seat, pulling out of the parking lot. “How have you been?” 

You shrug. “Just living, I guess. Probably not nearly as interesting as how you’ve been.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “My life isn’t as interesting as you think it is. It’s actually kind of boring. A lot of paperwork.” 

“Right. You’re leaving out the part where you’re a billionaire,” you point out. “No elite parties? No wild flings with celebrities?” 

Kun shakes his head again. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m very boring.” 

“Unbelievable. Even with all that money, you’re still―” You cut yourself off, clearing your throat loudly. 

The two of you fall silent, and you look out the window at the city lights. You can see Kun’s side profile in the reflection, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. He’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles are white. The rest of the drive is as awkward as you expect it to be, and you thank every deity you can think of when he finally pulls up in front of your apartment complex. 

“So, are we going to talk about it?” he asks as you reach for the door handle.

You avoid his eyes, continuing to stare out of the window. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Actually, there’s a lot,” Kun says. His tone is soft, but you can tell by the way his voice trembles that he’s extremely upset. “We could start with why you completely cut off all contact after you broke up with me through text.”

You sigh. “Look, that was shitty of me, I know. I should’ve met with you in person, and I’m sorry for that.” 

“You know that’s not what I’m asking, Y/N.” 

“Fine!” you relent, whirling around to face him. “You want to know why I did it? I did it because it was the realistic thing to do. Think about it, Kun. You were on track to become one of the greatest aeronautics software developers in the world, while I was just…nothing. We’re not just in two different leagues, we’re in whole different worlds. And besides, it worked out just fine, didn’t it? You’re happy, I’m happy. It’s been ten years already. Let’s just forget about the past. We were just dumb kids anyways.” 

“You weren’t nothing to me. You were everything, Y/N,” Kun whispers, clearly hurt. “What we had was real for me. It wasn’t us being dumb kids. I was going to marry you.” 

You don’t say anything, feeling a warm teardrop roll down your cheek. He lifts his hand like he’s going to wipe it away but drops it. 

“Then tell me this. Do you regret it?” He looks into your eyes, searching. 

“No,” you say truthfully, “because look at what you’ve achieved.”

“And―and if I said I would give it all up for you?” 

You laugh coldly, harshly. 

“Then I would never forgive you.”

[loptgangandi]

OH BOY GUYS HAVE I GOT A MUN-DAY STORY FOR YOU

( tl;dr I was refused entry into my mom’s home country, spent the night in an airport terminal during a pandemic, made friends with the son of one of my mom’s colleagues who just so happened to be in the exact same situation because the universe has a sense of humor, and was eventually allowed into the country because I had understood the regulations properly and the border guards had not.)

So it all started on Thursday, when my mom -- an epidemiologist working on COVID -- told me to come home ASAP because Switzerland (where she lives) was about to close its borders and had already restricted entry to anyone from neighboring states: first Italy, then Austria, Germany, and France as well.

I had already booked tickets for early April, so I called the airline, and they helped me rebook for the end of March -- the earliest I could come without paying huge fees. 

Cut to Friday. I wake up to 4 missed calls and a zillion texts from my mom informing me that she had booked me on a flight for the following day -- Saturday.

With a layover in Germany.

As I had spent a good 40 minutes the previous day on the phone trying to avoid layovers in France and Germany, I was a little miffed. And worried. But the airline had assured my mother that:  a) the new restrictions on Germany wouldn’t go into effect until Sunday, and  b) since airport terminals are international territory, I technically would not have actually been in Germany.  After some deliberation, I agreed to come home immediately. As in, Saturday. As in, the next day. The 21st. A day before Switzerland’s travel restrictions on Germany were supposed to go into effect (according to the airline, and I’m not sure what their source was).

You might already see where this is going.

I arrived at Frankfurt airport after a frankly very surreal trip -- both the flight and the original airport, which was a ghost town -- and was told by the gate agents that I couldn’t board the plane because Swiss border control would refuse me. After a bit of back and forth -- during which I switched from English to German, which got them to be a bit more helpful -- they realized that yes, indeed, citizens and residents of Schengen countries (excluding Germany, France, Italy, and Austria) were exempted from the border restrictions. This included me, as I’m a resident of Sweden. 

They let me on the plane, but I was seriously worried -- because given the general environment of confusion, I had no faith that Swiss border control would know more than the Frankfurt gate agents. You’d assume they’d be informed on some things, but lets face it -- uniformed and armed people tend not to be very good at subtlety and legal minutiae, so who could know. 

The one thing that can be said for the overwhelming, anxious rage I felt when the Swiss border control told me I couldn’t enter the country was that it absolutely K.O’d the part of my brain that tends to overthink my language skills and inhibit my ability to speak languages I’m not fluent in -- and I made my case in very good French. I have never spoken French so well as when I was talking to the cop I’d been palmed off to and explaining to him why I was right and they were all wrong. My mom also insisted on talking to him, and after some hesitation -- which probably had less to do with touching my potentially virus-infested phone and more to do with being on the receiving end of a middle-aged mom’s wrath -- he took the call. I offered to put it on speaker and hold it so he wouldn’t have to, but he took the phone, and argued with my mom all the way through the airport. 

He seemed basically sympathetic and like he wanted to help, but his mantra was always the same: “I have my orders, I don’t know anything beyond what I’ve been told and I can’t disobey my orders.” He told mom the name of the organization to call to help out with this, but didn’t have a number for them, and couldn’t provide any other support. He was polite enough, but “polite” wasn’t going to get me home.

Where it got me was locked down tight in the airport international terminal with 10 other people who have also been turned away. 

Luckily, the terminal is massive, so there was plenty of room to maintain distance. 

The cops assured me that they would handle my suitcase and took my documents -- passport, Swedish residency card, and boarding passes from my trip (so they could make my flight reservations, they said, but there was probably more to it) -- and left me there.

An international airport at midnight during a pandemic is pretty much the definition of a liminal space. Every other seat in the gate waiting areas had a strip of red and white police tape running over it, back to front, and tied off at the top of the seat back to ensure that people would maintain proper distance and not sit next to each other. The music was on at a volume that, during the day, was probably appropriate to be unobtrusive over the ambient sounds of a living airport, but which in a locked-down terminal was unbelievably annoying. The lights were dim enough that there were still dark corners, and you could look around without your eyeballs melting out of your face. The only sounds (apart from the music) were the hum of the vending machines (our only food and drink options until the cafe opened at 5:30 the next morning) and the soft shuffling of people trying to get comfortable and get some sleep on the rock-hard, probably COVID-contaminated seat rows. 

We were given nothing. No hand sanitizer, no water (apart from what you could buy from the vending machines), no blankets or pillows. Nothing. We had access to bathrooms with hand soap, but you had to touch the dispensers with the heel of your hand. The paper towel dispensers also weren’t automatic, so you had to touch them to get the paper towels out. There was one janitor who came in around 1 AM to clean the whole terminal, which obviously wasn’t sufficient. 

I’m tough. I’ve been in some incredibly crappy situations, and at least we were warm and safe inside, and I wasn’t physically uncomfortable. I had some money to buy water, food, and later in the morning, coffee, and I figured out how to wash my hands without touching anything. But the fact that we were left in an almost certainly contaminated public space with no precautionary measures and no support for an extended amount of time -- 9 hours in my case -- was absolutely infuriating. And dangerous. And I am almost definitely going to get sick, probably because of that. 

Which only made me more determined to get home. If I was going to get sick, I was going to do it in a place where I could be taken care of and nursed back to health, instead of someone else’s apartment where I just rent a room and would have had a much larger radius of contamination (my landlady/flatmate has kids and grandkids and is still going to work). 

The issue, as the immigration cop had told me, came down to the fact that I had flown in from Germany. 

Even though I hadn’t set foot on German soil, I had been in a German airport, and that was apparently enough. If I had flown in from any other Schengen country (apart from France, Austria, or Italy), I could have entered with no problem, since I have Swedish residency. 

There was an obvious loophole there: while Sweden had no flights to that city for the following day (Sunday), Netherlands did. Brussels and Czechia did. 

So while my mom contacted the immigration authority in Bern, I booked a refundable flight for 9 PM Sunday evening from Amsterdam to my mom’s city, and would request that they send me to Amsterdam instead of Stockholm. The plan was basically to make a big loop and enter through a country they deemed acceptable. The irony wasn’t lost on me -- that I would risk further contamination by city-hopping in order to loop around and end up back where I started -- but the police had prevented me from just getting into my mom’s car and self-quarantining at her apartment, which had been the original plan, so I didn’t have much of a choice.

All that was left now was to wait -- in a non-sterile, contaminated airport terminal playing the most mediocre pop album-filler of the ‘70s and ‘80s. 

The only thing that made it bearable was that I made a friend. 

Around 1 AM, a 20-something Japanese dude in dress pants and a polo shirt shows up on our side of the terminal from the opposite end, wanting to know if we were also bothered by the music and if he should call someone about shutting it off. He wouldn’t bother if it was just him, so he wanted to see if it was collective. I agreed, and after a few failed attempts, we miraculously managed to reach someone who said they would do what they could to turn off the music. 

We got talking (and moved away from the people trying to sleep), and it turns out that it’s a small world and we were in an even smaller city, because our mothers work in the same department, were extremely close colleagues about 10 years ago, and still work together occasionally. I immediately recognized her name.

Turns out, this dude and I had both gone to school and done the IB in the same city. We both have moms working on COVID, dads living in our countries of origin (Japan for him, US for me), and younger sisters. He had also been turned away, despite having documentation that should have given him leave to enter. So there we were, stuck in that situation together, waiting to be deported and with our passports held hostage by the authorities.

We talked for six straight hours about every topic we could think of. Travel, food, relationships, siblings and family in general, COVID, electric cars, how our respective countries are reacting to COVID, racism and xenophobia (worsened by COVID -- he had an example from that same day), bosses and managers and how our offices are (and, in my case, had been) run, the pros and cons of wearing medical masks if you’re not showing symptoms of COVID, dry hands from all of the washing to avoid COVID, politics, our respective cultures and business cultures, depression and mental illness, natural disasters we had lived through, etc. “Ah fuck I’ve got COVID in my eye” became a bit of a running joke throughout the morning, as we became increasingly tired and our eyes increasingly dry, prompting runs to the bathroom to clear them out and wash our hands. We had both basically resigned ourselves to catching it -- it was just a matter of trying to pass it on to as few people as possible, preferably 0. 

Around 7 AM, my new friend -- let’s call him Mike -- points out that a guard is making a beeline towards us, and he’s not holding his passport. I look, and it’s mine, and I prepare myself to argue for them to send me to Amsterdam instead of Sweden. He tells me he had just come over to see me and make sure that I was still there (??? he had my passport where was I going to go??), and he would be back in 15 minutes to let me know whether or not I could enter Switzerland. 

I was completely baffled, because that option hadn’t even crossed my mind. I had been operating 100% on the assumption that I was going to be put on a plane. And Mike was happy for me, but also pretty miffed, because they had already booked a flight for him but our circumstances were pretty much identical. He had documentation proving extenuating circumstances, and I have Swedish residency and never set foot on German soil. The only difference between us is that he’s Japanese, and I’m white. I agreed that it was almost definitely a xenophobia thing, and told him that if I got in, I’d vouch for him. 

15 minutes later the cop (this one was very compassionate and borderline sweet compared to the ones we’d dealt with the previous night) comes back and tells me I could go through. I gather my stuff, and explain to him about Mike. The cop looks puzzled, but promises that he’ll make some calls and try to sort it out, and I should come with him. He takes me through to get my suitcase and escorts me to the exit, where he welcomes me to Switzerland with a big smile. 

I called my mom and settled in to wait for her to pick me up. Ten minutes later, Mike tells he’s also been allowed through. My mom (who had literally rolled out of bed in her pajamas, thrown on a coat and shoes, and jumped in the car) and I offered him a ride, but he had called his mom immediately and she was coming to get him. I didn’t see him again -- my mom arrived before he came through -- but we’ve been in touch, and both of us got home safe. 

Now my mom and I are completely self-quarantined with the cats, and honestly, it’s wonderful. We’re not leaving the house except for the occasional walk. I slept 12 hours last night. My mom is plying me with tea to make sure I’m hydrated as we wait for me to get sick, and I spent the 6 hours recording this whole nonsense saga for posterity.

tl;dr I was refused entry into my mom’s home country, spent the night in an airport terminal during a pandemic, and made friends with the son of one of my mom’s colleagues who just so happened to be in the exact same situation

[andtails]

A Prelude to Chaos Control - Chapter 6: Flying Toward Freedom

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

*****

Chapter 6: Flying Toward Freedom

“H…hey! No fair, Sonic!”

“Haha, ya snooze, ya lose, pal!”

Tails shook his videogame controller in frustration as Sonic’s character sped past him, having hit the orange kitsune’s kart with heat-seeking missiles, causing him to spin out of control and off the cliffside racetrack. Seconds later, his car materialized back onto the asphalt, ready to race once more. Holding the trigger button on his controller, Tails accelerated, his tires screeching as he ripped down the raceway, eager to take his revenge on the blue hedgehog.

They were now on the final lap. Sonic, who maintained the lead over his little brother and the other competitors, heard the sound of another kart rapidly approaching. The blue hedgehog chuckled to himself as he dropped spiked tacks from the back of his car.

“You think you’re sooo clever, don’t you?” Tails expertly dodged the tacks and deployed his own weapon; a banana cream pie launched itself from a spring in the back of his kart, landing squarely on the hedgehog’s character as his vision became obscured.

“Ah, shoot!” Sonic spun out of control and crashed into the side of the mountain, the orange kitsune passing him by as the blue hedgehog reversed his vehicle, hoping to catch up before the end of the race. By the time Sonic crossed the finish line, though, Tails was already spinning donuts, confetti raining over him as the crowd cheered his victory.

“You win this time,” Sonic took off his headset and set his controller down, looking at the young fox beside him on the hospital bed, “but I’ll prove victorious next time!”

“Oh yeah?” Tails pulled his own headset off his triangular ears. “Well, I guess you could say you were…too slow.”

Sonic watched as his younger brother broke into a fit of laughter.

“I’ll make you eat those words!” Sonic jumped onto the orange fox, tickling him on his sides, causing him to laugh even more, waving his arms and kicking his legs as the blue blur enacted his revenge.

“Now you’re playin’ dirty!”

“How ‘bout this,” Sonic pulled himself off the young kitsune and sat back on his side of the bed, “best two of three: winner does all the chores for a week.”

“Oh, you’re on! Just don’t come cryin’ to me when you’re eating dirt again!”

As they put their headsets back on, though, they heard a feminine voice at the doorway, clearing her throat to get their attention. The nurse approached the two brothers, disapprovingly staring at the orange and blue laptops that sat in front of their respective owners.

“I thought we urged against screen time, Mr. Prower?”

“Hehehe, well…” Tails placed a hand behind his head in embarrassment. “I figured that I’d reward myself after finishing all my books.” He pointed at the stack of thick texts sitting on the bedside table, the nurse wondering how he had managed to read them all in such a short amount of time. “Besides, I’m feeling a whole lot better, and it has been five days anyway.”

“Ya can’t refute that logic, Miss,” Sonic added, patting Tails on the shoulder.

“In any case,” she continued, ignoring the fox’s arguments, “the doctors are approving your discharge. You’ve healed quite remarkably since entering our care, and we believe you’ve gotten well enough to finish recovering at home.”

“Great!” Tails exclaimed, jumping out of bed. “Now I just gotta grab my stuff, and we can be outta here.”

“Hold on there.” the nurse placed her hand on Tails’ shoulder. “Be sure to sign out with the front desk before you leave.”

“Will do, Miss!” Tails replied, giving her a thumbs up. He continued packing his belongings as the nurse took her leave, closing the door behind her.

“Ever hear back from the shop?” Sonic leaned back on the bed, his hands propping up his head.

“Oh yeah.” Tails turned around to face the blue hedgehog. “They said my plane is ready to go! The manager even moved it by semi-truck to the local airstrip.”

“That’s just a hop, skip, n’ a jump from h—” Sonic was interrupted by a gurgling sound coming from the orange fox.

Tails looked down and placed a hand on his belly. Looking back up at the blue hedgehog, he blushed in embarrassment, laughing nervously to himself.

“I’ve gotcha covered, pal.” Sonic got up and approached the window, pointing out into the distance. “See that park? They have this fantastic chili dog vendor there. We can stop on the way…my treat!”

“You know full well we share finances.” Tails smirked, taking his gloved hand off his gut and playfully punching Sonic in the arm.

“Yeah, I know.” Sonic took in a deep breath of the fresh, early-afternoon air. “I’ll do the heavy lifting and place the order for ya, then. Sound good?”

“Hehe, sure,” Tails replied, the two brothers sharing a laugh.

“Alright, then. Time to finish packing.”

Sonic closed the window and helped Tails fill the two duffel bags. Looking around to ensure they didn’t forget anything, the duo turned off the lights, took the elevator down to the first floor, and checked out with the front desk.

“Fresh chili dogs with the works, here we come!” Sonic exclaimed as the two walked through the automatic doors, eager to satiate their hunger and return home.

*****

Rouge entered a fighting stance as Eggman’s robots stormed the command center. She was quickly surrounded by a group of oval-shaped, orange soldiers with turquoise eyes and wide smiles made of glowing panels. Surrounding the outer perimeter of these Egg Pawns were a small, albeit more fearsome group of Egg Knights, who had a similar shape as the Pawns but were covered in silver armor and sported pointy shields and large javelins.

“Wooahhooohoohooo.” Eggman’s laugh echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and causing the bat’s sensitive ears to ring. “My mechanical minions will ensure you are captured. ATTAAAAACK!” Eggman sat back down in his chair, polishing off his sandwich as the Egg Pawns approached the jewel thief.

“I don’t like getting my hands dirty,” Rouge said, tightening her silk gloves, “but you gave this girl no other choice.”

She rushed forward and punched the nearest Egg Pawn, causing it to fly backward, knocking over a few more robots before colliding with the metal wall on the opposite side of the room. Taking no time to catch her breath, she approached the next Egg Pawn, knocking it over with a roundhouse kick, rotating her leg around as she made a winding jump, her boot cracking its outer shell as it fell to its side, knocking over several more like dominoes.

“I’ve got to say, she is pretty good,” Decoe said, sitting comfortably on the sidelines with his mechanical brother.

“I agree. She is not only a good sneak, she is also adept at fighting,” Bocoe replied.

“Quit your blabbering and call in some reinforcements!” Eggman yelled, pointing at his minions with teeth clenched.

“Yessir!” they said in unison before returning to their posts, using their computers to redirect a few more groups of robots to converge on the command center.

Meanwhile, Rouge took flight, using her wings to effortlessly maneuver in the air. After dodging a javelin attack from an Egg Knight, she grabbed the weapon from the robot, which still held its handle, and dragged it around the circular room, knocking over its mechanical comrades like bowling pins.

“There!” Rouge’s eyes were fixed on the exit, now cleared of the soldiers still recovering from their fall. She swooped into the passageway, landing gracefully on the floor before dropping to one knee to collect her breath. Wiping sweat from her brow, she looked behind to see a group of robots running toward her while the rest were still on the floor. “No time for beauty rest just yet.”

The jewel thief ran down the hallway, stopping at a large stairwell.

“Hmmm…” Rouge placed a finger to her chin as she devised the rest of her escape plan. “There should be some sort of roof access above. If I can get to the top of Eggman’s fortress, I should be able to fly on out of here no problem.”

She climbed several flights of stairs until she reached the top floor, placing her hands on the metal bar on the door leading to the roof as she took a few moments to catch her breath. Rouge had plenty of time before the slower Egg Pawns would catch up with her.

Meanwhile, Robotnik monitored Rouge’s progress through his monitor, toggling through various security camera live feeds as the bat made her way up the building.

“Decoe! Bocoe! Ready the outside lasers! We’ll see to it she doesn’t escape with my Chaos Emerald.”

“Aye aye!” they responded in unison, preparing the weapons scattered all along the perimeter of the fortress, which included hundreds of yards of concreted land surrounding the building, lasers mounted on several patrol towers and along the central building itself. The gate surrounding the fortress was electrified, and the single exit to the encampment was guarded by an army of Egg Pawns and several large mechs, ready to attack on sight.

“She may’ve slipped through my fingers for now, but she’ll soon be back in the palm of my hands.” Eggman formed a fist and raised it in the air, laughing maniacally as his mechanical minions finished preparing the remainder of the fortress’ defenses.

“Has Eggman finally fallen off the deep end?” Bocoe asked his brother with a whispered voice.

“You assume he hasn’t already,” Decoe replied, using a metallic hand to partially cover his mouth.

“Quit your yapping and be on the lookout for Rouge!” Eggman yelled, his eyes studying the jewel thief through his monitor as she recovered from her sprint up the stairs and pushed through the door.

Rouge found herself on the roof of the building, rain dripping down her face as she observed her surroundings. Beyond a few cubicle cooling units and a helicopter on the far side, there appeared to be nothing abnormal waiting for her on the roof. When she peered down to the ground below, though, her heart stopped as she realized just how much danger she’d have to overcome if she wanted to escape alive. She watched as various robots and mechs of all sizes circled the building, covering virtually the entire area surrounding the fortress. She also noticed the towers scattered around the area of the base were buzzing with energy, searchlights roaming the perimeter and laser turrets searching for their target, a far cry from the defenses she deactivated when she first invaded the fortress.

“This is hopeless.” Turning around, she glanced over once more at the unoccupied helicopter. “Wait a minute…maybe this is my ticket out of here?” Rouge walked toward the vehicle, getting a good look at the flying machine before her.

“With my wings, I wouldn’t have enough momentum to gain the height needed to bypass Eggman’s defenses,” She opened the door to the helicopter, surprised to find it unlocked, “but with this bad boy, I could fly up high and be out of range of Eggy’s attacks.”

She sat down in the driver’s seat, staring at the buttons, levers, and knobs along the dashboard. “The only problem is I’ve never flown one of these before.” She shrugged her shoulders and analyzed the controls. While Rouge never operated a helicopter in her life, she had experience flying other forms of aerial transportation, so not all hope was lost.

“Let’s see…” Rouge flipped some switches on the dashboard and turned a key, bringing the helicopter to life. “Ah yeah, now we’re talking!”

Flipping a few more nodes, the propellers began to spin. Pulling the joystick in front of her, the flying machine lifted itself from the ground, hovering in place as the jewel thief plotted her next course of action.

“Let’s see…to be safe, I should probably fly this thing as high as it’ll go before leaving the area.” Rouge maneuvered the helicopter upward, the contraption wobbling as it gained height, her inexperience clearly showing.

Eggman watched the entire take-off through a security camera on the roof.

“Blast that bat! Why’d I leave the keys in there in the first place?” Robotnik’s face turned red as he slammed his fist against the dashboard.

“A more important question,” Decoe whispered to his brother, “is why he even has a helicopter in the first place.”

“I’ll have you know,” Eggman replied, having become adept at comprehending their whispered speech, “that evil geniuses like myself bent on world domination enjoy a little fun every once in a while, and a helicopter is more exciting to pilot than my silky smooth Egg Mobile.”

“But enough about that,” Eggman barked, pointing a gloved hand at his robotic servants. “Shoot her out of the sky before she gets away!”

Decoe and Bocoe returned to their stations, taking control of the nearest laser turrets positioned around the headquarters and the surrounding watchtowers. By this point, their efforts appeared futile, as low visibility and the helicopter’s current height made accurate aiming almost impossible.

“We’re losing visual contact,” Decoe said.

“Rouge is almost out of our range,” Bocoe added.

“Give me that!” Eggman pushed Bocoe off his chair, remotely taking control of one of the large mechs stationed near the outer perimeter near the gates. Using his keyboard and mouse, Robotnik was able to expertly maneuver his large, silver mech through the perspective of the live feed camera built within its digital eyes.

“Now let’s see…” Eggman tilted the mech’s head up and zoomed its vision until he spotted the helicopter off in the distance. With a few more clicks of the keyboard, Robotnik locked on to the target and fired multiple laser blasts at the escaping helicopter. Eggman enhanced the image further, allowing the party to see black smoke billowing from the helicopter’s engine.

“Darn it!” Eggman yelled.

“But it looks like you hit your target, doctor,” Bocoe said, pointing at the monitor from behind the evil genius.

“That may be true,” he replied, “but by the time the helicopter is forced to ground, Rouge will be long gone.”

Robotnik turned around to face the two mechanical brothers once more. “I want you to follow the trajectory of the helicopter and inspect the crash zone. See if you can recover the Chaos Emerald she stole.”

Giving Eggman a salute, Decoe and Bocoe ran out of the command center. Eggman sat back down, watching the monitor as the helicopter flew away, black smoke lingering in the air as Rouge disappeared completely from the mech’s enhanced field of vision.

“One day, she will pay.”

“Mark my words.”

*****

“It looks like I’m home free.” Rouge leaned the joystick forward as she flew the helicopter away from Eggman’s base. “What a sap! Leaving your keys in the helicopter was a rookie mistake.”

Before she could gloat further, though, she heard a loud explosion behind her. Peeking out the window on the right-hand door, she gasped as she saw black smoke coming out of the engine from behind the cockpit, creating a cloudy trail as the flying machine began to slowly lose altitude.

“Dammit!” Rouge sat back down in the pilot’s chair, watching as flashing lights lit her dashboard. “Yeah yeah, I know!” Maneuvering the craft once more, she discovered that she was still able to control the direction of the helicopter, even if she could no longer raise her altitude.

“Uffdah.” Rouge wiped her brow and leaned back in her chair. “That’s a relief. I can just glide down to safety and ditch this hunk of junk when I’m back on solid ground.”

Unfortunately for the jewel thief, though, the helicopter’s engine had other plans.

Rouge heard another explosion from behind. Looking out the window once more, she watched in horror as fire engulfed the back of the helicopter, the vehicle rapidly losing altitude. Looking forward, the bat saw an island in the distance. Rubbing her eyes to ensure her vision wasn’t deceiving her, she found the island floating above the ocean waters below.

“That must be Angel Island!” She surmised that the helicopter should be able to reach the island before descending too low, and it was her only opportunity to avoid the water, so with what little control she had left over the careening aircraft, the bat glided in the direction of the island.

Another few minutes went by. The helicopter was now over the floating island, approaching dangerously close to the trees below. Rouge opened the left-most door and peered down at the ground. Taking a deep breath, she dove out, planning to use her wings to escape unscathed. As she jumped, however, she collided directly with a large oak tree, hitting her head against the thick bark as she fell to the forest floor.

A 60-foot fall would’ve easily killed the jewel thief, but the branches covering the length of the tree broke her descent every 10 feet or so, leaving bruises and scratches instead of life-threatening injuries. Nevertheless, she was nearly unconscious by the time she reached the forest floor, her body sprawled out near the base of the oak tree, leaves slowly falling to the ground, landing on and around the bat, her body soaked with rainwater as the storm continued its downpour.

If Rouge were awake, she’d have been thankful to be outside the vicinity of the helicopter, which brought several trees down with it before exploding, fire spewing from the smoldering mess of twisted metal as the flames engulfed the wreckage and spread to the trees surrounding the crash.

*****

After their fight with Dr. Eggman, there was a mutual, unspoken understanding that Sonic would look over the young kitsune in the hospital while Knuckles, the sole guardian of the Master Emerald, would return to his duties on Angel Island.

And that is exactly what he did.

Whereas the trip from the island to Seaside City took about 15 minutes, thanks to the speed of the Tornado 2, Knuckles’ journey home took half a day; after walking the entire way, climbing up a mountain to allow himself to safely glide down to the floating Island, he chose to celebrate by napping on top of the Master Emerald for the remainder of the evening.

A week went by without issue. He used the time to relax after the battle with Eggman, thankfully not having sustained any injuries. He called Sonic and Tails in the hospital from time to time, otherwise electing to take it easy; from Knuckles’ perspective, the brotherly duo was more than suitable to retrieve the Chaos Emeralds, even if their efforts would be delayed. His true purpose was to guard the most important one of all: the Master Emerald, the source of the Chaos Emeralds’ power, a mystical gem that could grant any evildoer the ability to spread untold chaos and destruction across Mobius.

And so he guarded the Master Emerald, as he had always done, sitting on the stone steps of the shrine deep in thought, allowing the rain to pour over his fur as he pondered recent events.

That Tails is certainly a resilient little fox. He’ll stop at nothing to help his friends. For such a little guy, he always seems to put his life on the line to thwart Eggman’s schemes.

“Definitely commendable,” Knuckles turned around and peered up at the Master Emerald, “but the shock he gave himself up there, and the battle at Seaside City…maybe Sonic should have him sit things out going forward.” He looked at his feet and crossed his arms. “I get the strangest feeling things are only going to get hairier from here.”

“But still…” The red echidna walked up the stone steps and observed the Master Emerald, the sprinkling rain rolling off the perfectly cut gem. “Tails’ dream about the Master Emerald…and surviving that intense shock with mere bruises on his hands…maybe fate is drawing Tails into this ordeal? Maybe it is the will of the Master Emerald beckoning Tails play a role in the events to come?”

Knuckles’ monologue was cut short by the sound of an explosion in the distance, black smoke bellowing into the sky.

“What’s this? Is the island under attack?” Knuckles scanned the dark sky above, not seeing an aerial assault or signs of a fleet preparing to wage a fight on his turf. “No…but whatever it was, I need to investigate.” The red echidna ran down the shrine’s steps and toward the direction of the explosion.

Navigating through the thick forest of the island was effortless for Knuckles. After all, as the sole occupant and caretaker of the floating island, it was his duty to know every square meter of his ancestral land.

Pushing thick foliage away, Knuckles emerged from a patch of tall grass to find what remained of a downed helicopter and scorched trees surrounding the crash site, the fire having since been put out by the intensifying storm. Investigating the charred remains of the aircraft, he found the cockpit empty, as well as the surrounding area of the crash site.

“Hmmm…” Knuckles placed a gloved finger on his chin. “No bodies, no survivors…no sign that someone was actually piloting this thing. They must’ve jumped out before impact.”

Proving his theory, a feminine voice could be heard in the distance. He approached the groaning sounds, the noise becoming more audible with each passing step, until he found Rouge on the ground, scratched, bruised, and seemingly unable to move.

“Hey, I know you. You’re that jewel thief who tried to steal the Master Emerald before.” Rouge didn’t reply, instead moaning in pain, not having enough energy to carry on a conversation.

“Well, it’d only be right to make sure you’re okay.” The red echidna inspected the bat before him, moving her arms and legs gently. “Nothing appears broken, but—” Knuckles was interrupted by the bat herself, who shot up, pushing him to the ground as she intently stared at him, crossing her arms.

“What do you think you’re doing? I hope you weren’t up to any funny business!”

“W…what?” Knuckles blushed as he looked up at the angry bat above him. “I’d never do anything like that, you ungrateful bat!”

“S..sure…” Rouge began to say, her sassy attitude giving way as she fell back to the ground, too exhausted and banged up to continue taunting the red echidna.

Knuckles pulled himself up and observed the injured bat, checking her pulse before picking her up and slinging her across his right shoulder.

I don’t like the thought of bringing that bat anywhere near the Master Emerald, but I can best tend to her wounds at home. She better not try and take the Master Emerald once she is recovered…

The red echidna made careful strides in the direction of his cabin, Rouge unwittingly along for the ride.

*****

Tails looked up at the sky, observing the dark clouds beginning to creep in from the distance. He shivered at the thought of a thunderstorm, especially considering his current location: an open park the length of a few blocks in Seaside City. Trying to suppress his fears, the fox looked over at Sonic, who was about to order food from a small vendor as he sat at a nearby picnic table, keeping the duffel bags by his side.

“I’ll have a dozen chili dogs with the works!” Sonic slapped a palm on the vendor’s counter as he placed his order.

“Ahh, m’best customer Sonic!” exclaimed the chef, a portly pig dressed in a white apron, a large snout covering his pink face. “A dozen fully-loaded chili dogs comin’ up!”

Before Sonic knew it, the chili dogs were complete, piled up like a pyramid on a large plate. The fresh, brown chili was still bubbling as it completely submerged each deluxe-sized hot dog and their accompanying buns, dripping to the chili dogs below like a multi-layered fountain. For added measure, the chef sprinkled a healthy dose of shredded cheddar cheese over the hotdog pyramid, the cheese instantly melting into gooey goodness upon contact with the searing hot chili.

Sonic began to drool as he eyed the mythical creations before him while mindlessly fumbling in his wallet for cash. The blue hedgehog tossed a bill to the chef, his eyes widening in shock as he inspected the payment.

“Hey Sonic, the dogs were only 25 dollars. I think you overpaid.”

“Keep the change, ol’ friend.” Sonic grabbed the plate of chili dogs as he made his way back to the picnic table. As the hedgehog walked away, the chef eyed the 100-dollar bill carefully before placing it in the safety of the cash register.

“My best customer indeed...”

Tails looked on as Sonic walked toward him, careful to balance the plate so the hand-crafted dogs would survive the brief journey to the table. Sure enough, the chili dogs arrived unscathed; Sonic placed the plate at the center of the table and sat down across from the orange kitsune.

The two brothers grabbed their first serving, the blue hedgehog devouring a full hotdog with a few large bites while the young fox ate with more care. Given Sonic’s speed, the hotdog pyramid blocking the two from seeing across the table was quickly reduced to a small pile. Unsurprisingly, the blue blur ate most of the chili dogs, but Tails didn’t mind; he was approaching maximum capacity anyway.

Letting out a loud belch, the hedgehog quickly covered his mouth.

“Excuse me!”

The duo laughed, Tails pinching his nose with one hand and waving the other in front of his face for comedic effect before returning to the half-eaten hotdog on his plate. Sonic laid down on the bench on his side of the picnic table in satisfaction, placing his hands behind his head for support.

“So,” Tails began, as he polished off his hotdog, wiping away excess chili from his muzzle with a napkin. “What’s the plan now? As far as we know, Eggman may’ve collected all the Chaos Emeralds by now.”

“You know me, Tails,” Sonic replied, reaching for a half-eaten chili dog while lying on the long seat, throwing it up in the air, catching it in his mouth, and swallowing it whole. “I’m usually not the plannin’ type o’ guy. I leave that sort of thing to you.”

“I suppose.” Tails placed a hand on his utility belt, feeling the Chaos Emerald detector within, a pang of guilt creeping out of the young kitsune’s subconscious once more.

The two brothers sat in silence, enjoying the fresh air on their faces, as they spent the last few moments of relaxation together before committing themselves to discovering Eggman’s ultimate plan.

Surely that attack on Seaside City must’ve had some purpose. Otherwise, what was the point?

Tails pondered to himself in silence as he rested his arms on the table, using them as a support for his head as he stared blankly in front of him.

“Regardless of our plan,” Sonic interrupted Tails’ train of thought, sitting up and looking at his younger brother across the table, “I’m just happy you’re feeling better and will be by my side the rest of the way.”

Tails smiled brightly in response to the blue hedgehog’s warm comments.

I couldn’t imagine staying in that hospital without Sonic there with me. He’s been such a good friend. I’ll do what I can to stop Eggman’s latest scheme…for both of our sakes.

“Why the serious face all of a sudden?” Sonic stared intently at his younger brother, whose face was tightened up and eyes narrowed, as if filled with a new sense of determination.

“Oh, sorry…” Tails placed a hand behind his head in embarrassment.

“You don’t need to apologize for being yourself, buddy.” Sonic reached over the table to rustle the kitsune’s hair. “Always be yourself…remember that.”

“I will, Sonic.” Tails smiled as the blue hedgehog sat back down, his hand rubbing his bulging belly. “Let’s say we grab a doggy bag and bring the rest of these chili dogs home?”

“You bet!” Tails patted his own belly in satisfaction.

As Sonic got up from his seat, though, a familiar voice could be heard from several yards away, calling him from a distance. She didn’t seem to be very pleased to see the blue hedgehog.

“Ah geez…” Sonic tried to rub the displeasure from his face before the confrontation commenced.

“SONIC! You have some explaining to do!”

“Ohh, hiya Ames! What’s happenin’?”

“Don’t what’s happenin’ me, Sonic!” Amy Rose was dressed in her red skirt, sporting shorter quills than the self-described blue boyfriend before her.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?” Sonic placed his hands forward as if to impede the angry pink hedgehog, fire growing in her eyes as her teeth clenched in anger. As she stepped forward, the angry girlfriend materialized her Piko Piko hammer from her hammerspace.

“What? You don’t remember?” Amy asked sarcastically, setting the hammer down and folding her arms as she looked away from the duo’s picnic table.

“Why don’t you tell us what Sonic forgot, Amy?” Tails assumed Sonic was at fault, which was generally the standard order of things in their relationship.

“Alright,” Amy exhaled deeply, ignoring the blue hedgehog next to her, “but only for Tails’ sake.” Looking at the concerned fox, she continued. “Sonic and I had a date scheduled last week, but he totally bailed on me! I’ve been planning it for weeks, had the outfit picked out, even had food catered in. But…” tears welled-up in the pink hedgehog’s eyes as she finished her story. “Sonic never showed up! I waited for hours but still no sign. I had to throw out all the food, too!”

“And worst of all,” she looked menacingly at the blue hedgehog beside her, “he didn’t even bother to answer his phone!”

“Amy, I…”

“No excuses, Sonic!” Amy waved a gloved finger in his face. “You’ve done this to me so many times, I’ve lost track.”

“I know, but…”

“No buts, Sonic!”

“But…”

“What did I just say?”

Sonic brushed a hand through his blue quills as sweat rolled down his brow.

“This time I had a good reason.”

“So you admit all the other excuses were BAD?” She turned her face away, her arms still folded. Amy was caught off-guard, however, when Sonic grabbed her hands, the pink hedgehog allowing her arms to fall at his unexpected touch.

“Look Amy, I’m sorry for forgetting our date. Honestly, but you see…Tails…” Sonic’s voice began to crack as he turned away from his girlfriend. “Tails was in the hospital.”

“Not good enough, S—” Amy stopped halfway through her rejection, so prepared to remain mad at her boyfriend that it took a while to process Sonic’s words. “Tails…was in the hospital?” Amy’s attention turned toward the orange kitsune, who was watching quietly.

“O…Oh…”

In all her years chasing the blue blur, and listening to his endless barrage of lame excuses, she hadn’t quite heard one like this, a reason that was both truthful and sincere. She looked back at Sonic, whose eyes were closed, arms folded, and head down, his face somber as if in deep thought.

“Yes, well…I’m fine now, though.” Tails scratched the back of his head and chuckled nervously. “I suppose you’d like to hear more?”

“…Yeah.” She couldn’t find anything else to say. Instead, she joined the company as they sat back down at the table, leaning against her blue boyfriend as the orange kitsune recounted the events that transpired, nibbling on one of the leftover, lukewarm chili dogs in front of her.

“I heard Eggman was defeated a week ago, but the media coverage didn’t mention your injuries.”

“No, I guess not…” Tails’ turned away from the hedgehog couple, shifting his gaze to the sky above. “People don’t seem to care about sidekicks, huh?”

Sonic opened his eyes as he noticed Tails’ voice begin to trail off, sadness returning to his younger brother’s face once more.

“People care about ya, Tails.” The blue hedgehog pulled himself away from the pink hedgehog, Amy nearly falling over from the sudden loss of support. “They were just more worried about Eggman’s destruction is all.”

“And besides,” Sonic gave Tails a thumbs up, “you’re not one for publicity, am I right?”

“I suppose.” A smile returned to Tails’ face.  

Sonic always knows what to say. I don’t know what I’d do without him...

Sonic chuckled, itching his nose while grinning at his younger brother. “Well, we should probably mosey on out of here.” As Sonic got up to grab a to-go bag from the vendor, Amy stopped him with her intimidating voice.

“Hold on, Sonic…you may be off the hook this time, but I have my eye on you, so I’m coming with!”

The blue hedgehog turned around, itching the quills on the back of his head.

“Well…the more the merrier!” Sonic chuckled nervously as he walked backward to the vendor, grabbing a bag from a dispenser.

Storing away the delectable leftovers in the doggy bag, the trio made their way to the hangar where the fixed-up Tornado 2 was stored, itching to get home in order to plan their next move.

*****

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