#maybe like three and half years but still

[wriokitty]

like a lotus in spring, you are mine to bloom — ft. alhaitham

synopsis: at twenty one, you’re just a girl he meets as he trains for the role of scribe. at twenty four, you’ve become everything he loves in this world. after three years of knowing you and nearly two and a half decades of life, alhaitham finally realizes why his father left letters for his mother instead of just saying the words outloud

❤︎ word count: 7.7k words — we find ourselves here in the same old situation again, i see LOL pls give it a chance though!! plssss

❤︎ before you read: female reader ; 18+ content — not suitable for minors ; not proof read ; strangers to friends to lovers ; mutual pining but not at the same time for a bit (he falls first <3) ; jealous alhaitham ; hinted drunk sex ; getting together + love confessions ; alhaitham character story spoilers + references to his grandmother and parents ; semi-clothed unprotected sex ; no prep ; some nipple play ; creampie ; the cringiest love letter at the end LOL

❤︎ comments: guys every time i write alhaitham it’s so corny and cheesy but . he is my fav genshin guy of all time i deserve to be allowed this okay

TWENTY ONE. 

You’re still a student when you first meet Alhaitham. (Not a student for much longer, but a student all the same. With a little luck on your side and good graces from your darshan’s sage on your thesis, you’re expected to graduate in just a few short months.)

You don’t have the best first meet. In fact, your impression of Alhaitham starts off entirely on the wrong foot. 

He’s newly graduated, just freshly rewarded a degree for his (impressive) efforts, and is now well on his way to training for the role of scribe—you heard he was offered far more prestigious roles, but for some reason, a genius like him settled for a role like that. You try not to judge. People have their passions, after all, and if that’s what he wants to do, well…who are you to make comments? (But amongst a school that only houses the brilliant, Alhaitham is, very undoubtedly, a standout. It’s hard to stand out in a school filled with only the best minds, but he manages to do so with ease. Sometimes, you’re almost jealous. You can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t aim a little higher than he does.)

He trains in the house of Daena. His first order of training is to fact-check ordinance drafts using books so he can better get the hang of drafting them himself in the future. You’re also in the House of Daena to find the last book for your thesis—after weeks of begging, you’re finally granted access to the restricted section to find it. 

And you do. Except your palm meets warm skin instead of the cold leather cover of a book. You pause, glancing up as sharp, teal eyes meet your gaze, staring at you expectantly as if you should be the one letting go. But you need this book. It’s the final research element to finish your thesis, and you’d like to be done with it. End of story. No matter how devastatingly handsome the man (because he is handsome, you’ll admit at least that much), you will not be handing over the last, final key to your academic freedom.

“Um, excuse me,” you say politely, “I was kind of reaching for that.”

“As was I,” he says, staring at you with a bored, almost uncaring expression. Your eyes narrow. “Now, if you’d please kindly take your hand off of mine.”

“I believe it should be you taking your hand off of mine,” you correct, huffing as you add stubbornly, “I reached for it first.”

He blinks at you, bland and a little irritated, as he points out, “Your hand is on top of mine, which means I reached the book first.”

Well.

Maybe if you were feeling particularly patient, you’d be inclined to admit that, yes, he does have a point. But stubbornness, combined with pure exhaustion, has you at your wit's end, and if you have to play the role of a difficult student, then so be it. You’re pretty sure you need it more, and you’re probably a much speedier reader anyway. You’ll have it done and returned in no time.

This guy, on the other hand…he doesn’t look too bright. You’re not willing to take your chances and let him walk off with a book that you might never see again.

“I started reaching for it first,” you scowl, “you just sped up your hand once you saw me. I should get it.”

“Unlikely,” he scoffs, “I didn’t even see you. Although,” he gives you a once over with his eyes, making you feel uncomfortably seen under his judging gaze, “I suppose you were a bit easy to miss.”

You gape at him. “Just what does that mean?”

“It means,” he smirks, taking the opportunity to grab the book as you stand in shock, “that I got here first.”

“Hey!” You glare at him, seeing red for a moment. What a perfectly good waste of a perfectly handsome face—and such an awful attitude coupled with his ridiculously smug grin couldn’t make for a worse combination. But, before you can even say anything, the book is being pressed back into your hands.

“You seem like you want it more than I do, though,” he hums, “I suppose I can let you have it. It’s a bit outdated for this ordinance, anyway.” With that, he saunters off. You push down the soft flutter in your heart for a moment and force yourself to hope you’ll never see him again. (Faintly, you hope your wishes don’t come true—but you refuse to admit it to yourself.)

Unfortunately (and fortunately at the same time) for you, you do see him again. Many, many times, in fact. When he works in the House of Daena as often as he does, and you like to spend all your free time there to study if you can, you’re both bound to run into each other often. Very often. 

And sometimes, it’s quite literally running into him. 

“Oof,” you hiss, staggering backward and hitting your head against the bookshelf behind you as you bump into a sturdy figure. You drop the books in your hand, blinking before reaching to rub your read as you start to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t see you—oh. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” he says, looking mildly entertained. Alhaitham is everywhere. Everywhere. You can’t escape him if you try, and now, you can’t even avoid him in your own personal space. “Although, I think I should be the one apologizing this time. I was too busy reading to pay attention. This section is usually empty at this time.”

“How often are you in here to know what section is empty at what time?” You raise a brow. 

“Too often to be considered good for my well-being,” he says dryly, sighing in misery. You crack a smile at that. Oddly enough, so does he—you don’t think you’ve ever heard someone say they’ve seen Alhaitham smile. It must be a rare sight that only you, and perhaps a very few others, can say they’ve witnessed. “I was just about to take a break to buy a coffee—I’ll bring one back for you, too, to make up for the cranial damage I’ve supplied.”

“A most wonderful idea,” you perk up instantly, “I love when I get to drain the wallet of a man.”

He gives you an amused look at that. And somehow, bringing you a coffee along with his own during his breaks is a habit that seems to stick for a long, long while after that. 

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TWENTY TWO.

Alhaitham’s feelings are hurt. Not a lot of words tend to do that—he’s been blessed with thick skin and an unbothered attitude to a fault, sometimes. But something about today, for some odd reason, hurts his feelings. 

Your words to the waiter who took your order keep ringing in his head. 

Oh goodness, no, we are definitely not dating!

Most people mistake you and Alhaitham for a pair of lovers rather than a pair of friends. It’s just the way things go when a man and a woman are seen together for extended periods of time over and over. It doesn’t help that Alhaitham doesn’t really have any friends. He had one before you, but…well, things are complicated now. Far too complicated to think about it more than necessary. He has you, and that’s enough. But the matter still stands that most people tend to assume that something blossoms between the two of you that isn’t just friendly. 

He was starting to think it was true himself, too. He knows it’s true from his end, at least. But you say those words with such a sure, definitive tone that it almost sounds like you’re offended by the notion of being seen as his girlfriend. And sure, he would be disappointed—he’s no liar—if you didn’t feel romantically for him, but he’d understand. It’s not something you can help. But you brush off the idea like it’s an anomaly of sorts in the universe for someone like you and someone like Alhaitham to be a couple. It hurts his feelings. More than it should. 

(He knows deep down, in the depths of his heart, that you don’t mean it that way. You never would. But irrationality is but one of many feelings that bloom when it comes to romance.)

Alhaitham knows from a young age he’s different than most kids his age. This fact doesn’t change as he gets older. He’s brighter than most of his peers—which is certainly saying something because Sumeru is a nation filled with enough sharp minds, it’s as though brilliance were the average trait. People don’t typically like Alhaitham (which is fine by him, he doesn’t like most of them, either. They mostly don’t meet his standards). The kids don’t play with him in the parks that Grandmother would leave him at while she shopped around at the market, and they don’t sit with him on his one and only day at the Akademiya when he is but an elementary scholar. It never bothered him. He preferred reading under the trees and self-learning at home, anyway. When he’s older and enrolled in the Akademiya full-time, they don’t prefer to partner with him for projects for any other reason than simply being guaranteed a good grade, and they don’t spare him a glance when they all converse in groups outside of class. He never cared for freeloaders, anyway—he only trusts himself for projects, and he is at the Akademiya to learn, not make friends. 

It’s not until he meets Kaveh does he consider the idea that friendships are meaningful enough to spare some effort into. But the end result of that only solidifies that he is best when in solitude. 

But then he meets you. Some part of Alhaitham knows very early on that you would never be just a friend to him. If it was friendship that he craved, he would have looked for it elsewhere before running into you. Something about you from the very beginning makes him yearn for things much deeper than that. Things that remind him of his parents. 

Friendship is fleeting. People at the Akademiya go their separate ways and meet new people. They fall out and have arguments. They grow up and grow apart and become different. But love blooms like the Kalpalata lotuses on a vine, timeless as time itself. It starts and never ends, one root stemming into more and more vines until they never stop growing.

Alhaitham has fallen in love with you. Logic tells him it’s only a recent development, but his heart has known this outcome would be brought about for a long, long time. And, in all truthfulness, your words have hurt his feelings. 

And yet, he still loves you through it. He thinks that even if you crushed his feelings with a cold, indifferent smile, he would still love you through it. 

A hand waves in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts as you take a sip from your coffee. Puspa Cafe is not as busy at this hour, most people are in the middle of a work day, but Alhaitham is allowed to pick his lunch hour, and yours happens to be earlier than most.

“Sorry, I just have to ask—are…are you upset?” you ask gently, making him pause. 

Yes.

“No,” he says simply, “why would I be?”

“You seem upset.”

“I’m not.”

“You were fine up until…I don’t know, a few minutes ago. Is something on your mind?”

You know him so well, he thinks. How could you not see how perfect the two of you are together?

“I’m simply concerned about your sugar intake is all,” he eyes the cold, iced drink in your hands with more syrups than he deems necessary. You always have a penchant for choosing the sweetest drink off the menu, and Alhaitham will never understand how your teeth don’t rot.

“Well, that’s very funny,” you roll your eyes, “because I was just thinking about how low on vitamin D you must be—do you ever leave your study to see the sun?”

He spares you a soft chuckle at that, shaking his head before taking a sip of his own coffee—hot and black and with two spoons of sugar. Simple, like how he prefers. You make a face at his drink as he sets it down. 

“Have you ever thought about what you look for in a partner?” he asks suddenly, making you blink in shock for a moment. He flinches at his own forwardness just a tad. 

“Umm, I suppose a little here and there…why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, “just curious what your type was, that’s all. You’re painfully single, so I figured your taste was rather distinct.”

“Rude,” you scoff, rolling your eyes enough that he thinks it’s safe to assume you’re not suspicious. “Are you here just to poke fun at my choices today?”

Alhaitham should not be asking you this. Not when the answer so clearly is going to hurt his already very bruised feelings. Of course, your type won’t be him. And, of course, he is going to mourn your answer the second you give it, which is his own fault considering he’s the one who asked. (He has to wonder, for a moment, if this constitutes as an undiscovered hidden kink of his and whether or not he really just gets off on some unnecessary pain. Why else would he willingly subject himself to this?)

But, he’s caught off guard when you shrug and simply say, “I suppose someone who’s intelligent. I’d appreciate some good discussions. And…and maybe someone who’s kind, y’know? I would be rather sad if they were mean,” you pretend to sniffle dramatically.

“That’s…that’s it?” He tilts his head in equal parts shock and equal parts confusion. 

“What did you expect me to look for in a partner?” You snort, “A three-story mansion? A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on?” 

“Well, no,” he rolls his eyes, “Maybe something a bit less generic to narrow down your pool, I suppose, but if that’s your bar, so be it. There are far too many men who are intelligent and kind, you know.”

“Yes, but none of them show me any signs of interest,” you pout, “I must be undesirable or something.”

I desire you, he wants to say. He can’t quite find the courage to get the words out, though—and as if the universe has it completely out for him, the same waiter from earlier who is responsible for asking you the question that kills Alhaitham’s mood for the day comes back with the bill. And something else, too. 

Something that kills his mood for the week. 

His jaw clenches a tad when you flush at the note scribbled on a napkin for you, eyeing your flustered reaction while you read over the words: I get off at eight if you’d like to find me. You stare for a moment before you murmur, “Well, look at that. A sign of interest—it must be the Dendro Archon’s divine power.”

“The Divine have no say over who you fall for,” he insists.

“You don’t know that,” you hum thoughtfully, “The God of Wisdom knows her people better than anyone else, you know. I’d like to think she knows when love is bound for two people.”

You fold the napkin carefully and keep it in your pocket, and Alhaitham fishes out his mora pouch with stiff fingers. He leaves a very shoddy tip on the table before he exits after you. 

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TWENTY THREE.

You wake up in his bed. 

It’s a foggy memory, but you know you fucked Alhaitham after more sips of wine than you can count and one flirty comment too many. It happened in a blur last night, and you can’t say you’re surprised that it finally happened at all. Alhaitham is a man just like any other, and mingling pleasure with friendship is a normal thing to do. Falling under him on his mattress is not something you never had daydreams of—but the truth of the matter is that your daydreams don’t just stop with the bed.

They end with a toothbrush beside his in the bathroom. A mug next to his in the kitchen. Your shoes kicked off along with his at the entrance of a home. Your laughter and his bouncing off of the walls. A ring, maybe. One on your hand and one on his. 

In your imagination, it starts with pleasure, but it ends with love.

Falling in love with Alhaitham is a peaceful ordeal. He’s dependable and inherently kind. Strong and impressively capable. Intelligent and objectively handsome. You’d bring him home to your mother and father, and they’d thank Lord Kusanali for smiling down upon their humble little family and their darling little daughter by sending such a divine man your way. 

You don’t think you can pinpoint when exactly it is you started to love this boy, but you know loving him became as simple as breathing. You never thought about it. Never learned to do it. Never questioned it, even. You inhale the scent of his spicy, woody cologne and exhale the warm breath of your affections stored in your lungs. He lives somewhere nestled so deep in your ribcage that you think you’d have to crack each of them one after the other before you could pry him out.

You love Alhaitham. You think you know everything there is to know about loving him. You think you’d do it right—better than anyone else. 

He only drinks his coffee when it’s piping hot, and his wine can never be one degree less than iced. He has dry hands, but he hates the feeling of lotion. He doesn’t like raw onions but he doesn’t mind them cooked. When the sun is in his eyes, he’s in a foul mood, but he enjoys napping under the warm rays, much like a cat. He laughs surprisingly boyishly from his belly if you manage to deliver a dry yet clever enough joke, and he clears his throat and gets a bit shy once he’s realized he’s let it out. He twirls his pen in his hand when he’s bored, and he only uses the kind with gel ink because they write smoother. 

You love Alhaitham. For you, it’s always been him. 

When you wake up to his bare, warm body next to yours, breathing peacefully with an arm thrown over your waist, you can’t help but selfishly wish he’d stay asleep all day. Just for a day. Just for the amount of time you get in between the sun’s departure and the moon’s arrival. Just so you can watch him exist in this moment where it’s you, him, and the liminal space between friends and lovers. Just so you can admire how beautiful he is without worrying about his eyes opening and the inevitable conversation of what you’re both doing is brought up. 

People (like Kaveh, or Dehya, or Tighnari, or…anyone) tend to insist that Alhaitham loves you. It’s obvious, they say, just as obvious as your love for him. You never believe it. It’s not because he’s bad at love or because you’re bad for him. You think he’d make a good lover—contrary to popular belief, you don’t think Alhaitham is uninterested in intimacy or affection. And you think you’d make a good girlfriend—unlike other people, you understand him and like what you see. 

But he doesn’t love you. That much is a fact you’ve long accepted. It’s not because you’re bad for him or because he’s incapable of feeling—but rather, it’s just that bitter, soul-crushing reality that you can’t help who you love and who you don’t. Alhaitham doesn’t love you—it’s not something either of you can really change. Because if he did, he’d waste no time. He’d get to the heart of the matter and quit dancing around the issue. 

It’s just the kind of guy that he is. 

So, because this is your first and likely last time seeing him this way, you slowly reach over and brush a few strands of messy, unruly bedhead from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and warm under your palm, much more delicate to the touch than you anticipated from how chiseled his features are. Your thumb gently brushes along the slant of his cheekbone, eyes softening at how he lets out a puff of air as he sleeps. 

“Morning,” he says hoarsely, eyes still closed and making you jolt in surprise. He lets out a quiet, sleepy chuckle that would make you melt if not for the way your heart still pounds from the shock. 

“You’re awake?”

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding before finally cracking an eye open. “For a while now.”

“Why pretend to sleep then, you creep?” You scoff, glaring at him as he sits up slightly and glances at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. No part of him seems to be shocked about you being nude in his bed. Or the fact that you’re even in his bed at all, nude or not. 

“You’re the creep if we’re being technical here. It’s undoubtedly a little on the creepy side to study someone with such careful touches while they sleep.”

“That’s your main concern…?” You stare at him—and for lack of better words, you’re dumbfounded. You and Alhaitham have been friends for two years and counting. You’ve never once crossed the line or even toed at it to step beyond the border of anything more. And, yet, here you are. In his bed. Completely nude. He was lying there and felt your delicate touch along his skin, felt you act like a lover and not a friend on a quiet, intimate morning when in fact, you both should be shamefully avoiding each other’s eyes in a moment that’s anything but intimate as you leave. 

He makes no move to ask you to leave or even question why you’re still here. You make no move to really leave—it’s not like you want to. 

“What should my main concern be, then?” he looks at you expectantly, like he really doesn’t know.

“Oh, I don’t know, Alhaitham—shouldn’t you be a little more panicked by the idea that I’ve trespassed into your bed and seen you…bare?”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t trespass. I let you in—and also, to be fair, I saw the same for you, too, so we’re even.”

“You’re oddly calm about this,” you hiss. “This doesn’t bother you even a little? That things might change?”

He looks at you funny—like you’ve just told him a joke that hardly makes sense but makes him want to laugh anyway. “You’re too brilliant to be this dense,” he murmurs. “Maybe I’m quite open to the idea of change.”

You take offense to the first part enough to completely miss the second part of his statement. 

“I am not dense,” you huff, “I’m incredibly bright. I’ll have to send you my thesis sometime.”

“No need,” he responds through a low hum. He pulls you closer, flush against his chest. Bare skin on skin. Intimate skin, at that. You shiver for a moment as his warm, large hand wanders lower and lower before stopping just at the small of your back, rubbing slow circles at the dimple where your spine ends. “I’ve read it plenty of times. It was very insightful.”

“Well, in that case, you should know not to insult my intelligence—”

“If you don’t notice my affection for you, I’m afraid you might not be as observant as I initially thought.”

You pause. Your heart flutters. Then it feels like it decays. Your eyes widen a fraction. Then they feel like they need to be squeezed shut for fear of tears. You feel your fingers twitch to reach for him. And yet they stiffen in distrust. 

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you whisper. Because you don’t.

You really fucking don’t. You thought you knew. His feelings and how to read them. His thoughts and how his mind works. Every little quirk of his and how he approaches every damn thing in this world. You thought you knew.

Now you feel like you don’t know much of anything, especially not what he means right in this moment. 

“You don’t?” He whispers, hand moving to grab your wrist and bring it to his cheek so his lips can brush along the delicate lines of your palm prints. (If he was brave, he’d tell you that his destiny and yours are written in those very lines. Maybe someday he’ll build the courage.)

“No,” you say through a shaky whisper. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you. Just like you love me.” He says it so plainly, that you almost feel like it's a dry, cruel joke. (You know him a little better than that, though, to know he’d never.)

“How do you know I love you?” you challenge just because it’s all you have left to cling to—easy, instant denial. 

He laughs. Soft. Quiet. Melodic. So fucking sweet. “I’m too smart to act dense,” Alhaitham teases. And then, for a moment, his eyes soften enough that they almost look vulnerable. “And only someone who loves me could deal with my… peculiarities. Though, I will admit, it took me quite a while to reach this conclusion. You made me work for it.”

“If you’ve known all along—” 

“Not all along,” he corrects, “like I said, it took me a while to come to this conclusion. But once I did, it was rather obvious.”

You scowl with a finger prodding into his chest, eyes misty with relief and the faintest traces of agitation, “Well, regardless, why haven’t you said something all this time? Obviously, I wasn’t as aware as you seem to be, so the least you could have done is spared me the pining and heartbreak of wondering if you’d ever look at me—”

“I wanted to make sure I could offer you a peaceful life first,” he says gently. You blink. He smiles, eyeing something in the distance—you don’t quite catch it, but you think it might be the old, worn-out stack of envelopes sitting on his desk. 

“What?”

“When you’re with me,” he whispers, leaning in so that his lips brush over yours, “I can lead a peaceful life. I wanted to make sure I could give you the same.”

“And what does that consist of?” you raise a brow. 

“Well,” he murmurs, pecking the corner of your mouth, “A stable job with a generous income, which I now have. A fixed schedule, which I have also negotiated. A proper home to house the both of us, which you are comfortably laying in. And…” he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest where his heart is beating erratically, “A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on, which I have dedicatedly worked to add to my physique for you.”

“Haitham!” you squeal, shoving him away with a horrified shriek as he laughs with a wide grin. You don’t even know why he still remembers that comment to poke fun at it, but you suppose that is the tragedy of falling for a prodigious scholar. His mind is sharp. And so is his memory. “Enough!”

“Okay, okay,” he grins smugly. “I want us to lead a peaceful life.”

“There’s not a lot of peace I am counting on with you.”

“I will elect to ignore that statement,” he says dryly, “But that’s why I waited this long,” he buries his face into your neck, nose pressing into the skin as he inhales, “I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer, though. Won’t you accept my frugal attempt at a serene life with you?”

“Perhaps I can make do,” you fight back a stupid grin.

He smiles into your neck. You can feel it. You can practically see it. You hope you’ll grow old with it, too. 

“Then I suppose I’m forever indebted to your graciousness, my love.”

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TWENTY FOUR.

When Alhaitham was eight, Grandmother told him the story of how his parents had fallen in love. It was a typical love story, he thought at the time—nothing overly special or unique. A simple, sweet bond between two people who became friends and something more along the way.

What stood out were the letters. Not very much at first, but with time, he’d realized how special they were. 

Grandmother handed him the letters with a soft, melancholy look in her eyes that made him realize he hadn’t just lost his father and mother. She had lost her son and daughter-in-law. Alhaitham felt the absence of his parents often. It was hard not to at that age—he didn’t have a father to throw a ball to or tag along with to the market. He didn’t have a mother to hum him a melody or make his favorite dish for dinner. But Grandmother filled the gaps in those places well enough that even if his heart bled, not too much blood spilled between the cracks.

But he was no son. Not a proper one for her at her age, anyway. She raised him like he was her own, but she grew older every day, and he didn’t grow fast enough to keep up. He couldn’t take care of her in her old age the way his father would have. He couldn’t do much besides bring the vegetables for her to cut or set the table while she cooked. He couldn’t offer her the mora when she went to the market or carry too many of the heavy bags while they walked home. He couldn’t let her rest in her old age too much because, regardless of how mature and bright he was for his age, Alhaitham was just a child. Her child, nonetheless—Grandmother didn’t let him forget that fact. But a child.

When she died, he arranged the funeral alone. He didn’t cry throughout the whole ordeal. Her old colleagues from way back in her Akademiya days came, as did some of his parents’ old acquaintances. No one he knew too familiarly, though—no one who really mattered when they clasped his shoulder and told him to hang in there.

She was a good woman. He knew that already.

She was very intelligent. A very obvious fact.

She was exceptionally kind. A rather unsurprising observation.

She loved very deeply. Well. That one stung—as true as it might have been.

He remembers it so vividly still. How he had walked home alone after it all. How he had taken off his tie (a very poorly tied tie, at that—Grandmother had always helped him before) and silently entered his room.

It wasn’t until he had eyed his desk that finally, it all sank in. The notes—the ones his father had so carefully written his mother while they were still just starting to fall in love, sat there as if waiting for him. He read them one by one, just like he had so many times before. He didn’t realize he’d started crying until a rivulet of his sorrow landed from his cheek to the page, staining the paper a darker shade of heartache. 

Alone. 

That’s all Alhaitham had ever been since the tender age of four. At least, that’s what people had always thought—but he’d never felt the sorrow people tended to feel for him. Not having a father and mother was okay. Hard at times, but okay. Grandmother had been everything he needed. More than what he needed, in fact. 

Grandmother was everything. And she had left him just the same way his parents had. He’d cried that night—alone in a house that was nothing more than just a house. Not a home, not a place where he could return to and look forward to it. Not a place where love was waiting for him to shelter him as soon as he came back from the cruel, outside world.

Grandmother was gone. Mother and father had left so long ago. But they all had each other—in whatever world they’d crossed to, they’d had each other. 

He remembers it all so vividly still. How he’d read his father’s words, and for the first time in all his life, he’d craved it. What his parents had. 

To my love, my soul, my heart. I am yours, always. 

He wondered that night, through teary and blurry eyes, if love like that would ever find him. If he’d one day be able to call someone his love, soul, and heart.

He thinks now, as you laugh with your head tilted forward and a tweezer in hand while sitting on his lap, that he can. 

“Hold still, you,” comes your teasing remark, “you said this would be nothing. Now look at you.”

“You’re being too harsh,” he grumbles, pouting slightly. With a smile, you bend your neck down and press a soft kiss to his jutted lips, humming before pressing an extra one to the corner of his mouth for good measure. (And yes, the grand sage—acting, you can almost hear him correct in your own head—can pout. He is rather frequent at curling those lips of his in your presence when he wants something, in fact. Or when he is teased too much. Something about you brings about a side of him that is much less stoic and far more dramatized.)

“You can just admit it hurts, you know,” you say through an amused snort.

“It won’t hurt if you just do it right.”

“I’m an expert at tweezing eyebrows,” you huff, “I do mine all the time. And I would know that it hurts.”

“It can’t be that painful,” he clicks his teeth, “just be gentle.”

“I cannot gently pull out a hair from your follicle, Haitham—I don’t know what you want me to—hey!”

He grabs the tweezers from your hand and pulls you close, hugging you tight enough that his nose digs into your skin a bit as he buries it into your neck. It’s Saturday. His first out of two days off for the week—standard scribe work weeks are nine to five on weekdays, and he very much appreciates his weekends away from the bustling, lively Akademiya nonsense. 

Saturday happens to be your day off, too. 

“Where is Kaveh?” you ask quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt. He raises a brow, eyeing the suspicious movement of your fingers.

“Working with a client in Aaru Village. He won’t be back until tomorrow evening. Why am I not enough company for you?”

“Oh, be quiet,” you roll your eyes, and this time, your hands wander under his shirt, palms slowly dragging along his chiseled, planed abdomen while he shivers slightly under your touch. “I was just asking if…”

“If…?” he urges you to continue.

You know he knows. But, for the sake of indulging his smug, teasing little game, you huff and push his shirt up to expose his chest before murmuring, “If we would be interrupted or not. I don’t fancy such awkward run-ins with your roommate.”

“Our roommate,” he corrects, “this is your home, too.”

“Yes,” you smile, brushing your palms over his pectorals, watching as he stiffens when you graze along his nipples, “I suppose it is.”

“Well, he’s not here. And he won’t be, so kiss me,” he demands through a breathy whisper. You do. You kiss him instantly—because kissing Alhaitham is what you do best. When he’s happy, sad, angry, distressed, or just plain tired, kissing him is how you know him the most. When your breaths exchange and your life force and his mingle to become one, singular unit. 

You sigh into his mouth, letting his hands cradle your jaw and tilt your head to better meet his mouth, all while your hands still explore his upper half. He moans under your touch, cock springing to life slowly below you through his pants. You angle your hips forward, inching higher up his lap to drag your crotch along his and help the erection grow against the friction. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, hard and heavy between his legs in no time. 

“Haitham,” you breathe, feeling that familiar ache build between your own thighs. 

You kiss him like that for a bit. Messy, deep, sloppy, and so, so slow. With all the time in the world. Languid strokes of your tongue against his as he rolls his hips up from underneath you, dragging his clothed, bulging cock against your dripping cunt. The fabric separates you, rudely so, and it’s not long until you both grow tired of it. 

“Off,” you whine, tugging at his pants, “off, off, off!”

“So demanding,” he chuckles, pecking your nose sweetly before he lifts his hips, letting you slide off his sweatpants. “Satisfied?” 

“Yes,” you beam, “You always give me what I want. It’s my favorite thing about you.”

His gaze darkens at that—not for any other reason than it makes him so incredibly filled with lust when you speak to him like that. So spoiled and happy about it because it’s him. Him. You’re happy that it’s him. And he’s happy that it’s you. 

You don’t even bother undressing yourselves fully—he pulls down your own pants just enough to expose your pretty, leaking folds, and his hands wander under your shirt, where he almost short-circuits for a moment. Braless. Because you just love to drive him mad, he thinks. This much easy access to your soft, delicate breasts and the pert nipples that decorate them is enough to make him curse under his breath as his thumbs tease over them. 

“You’re a tease.”

“For simply existing?” you gasp, making him crack a small grin. 

“Yes,” he hums, “Your existence on its own teases me at all times. I’m afraid it drives me mad.”

You hum, reaching forward to gently take his hard, leaking cock into your hand and give a light, teasing squeeze. “Maybe my goal is to turn you completely into a lost cause.”

“Then,” he groans, throwing his head back against the couch cushions while he breathes harshly, “then you’re definitely succeeding. Is that what you wished to hear?”

“Yes,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, “It is, actually.”

It doesn’t take long at all before Alhaitham has tossed you back against the couch, laughing as you shriek at the sudden change of position. You glare at him, fighting back your own chorus of giggles as he moves to hover over you, kissing and biting playfully along your cheeks. 

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“Aw, so sweet,” you coo, “say that again.”

He rolls his eyes. His lips curl into the brightest grin at the same time. My love, my soul, my heart—the words are ingrained in his memory always. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” you whisper.

He leans in for a soft, slow kiss as the tip of his leaking cock slides against your folds, tapping against your clit before rubbing along your entrance. You gasp, shuddering against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

“You know,” he murmurs, “I could get used to this.”

“Sex on the couch? We can do that any time—”

“A weekend with just the two of us,” he groans, dropping his head to your neck as you laugh loudly. Bright. Airy. A sound the wind carries to him in his subconscious. He hears you even when you’re not there—even when you aren’t around, he searches for you. 

“Oh,” you say playfully, “Yeah, I guess that’s nice too, isn’t it?”

“I’ll show you just how nice it’s about to be,” he hums. The tip of his thick, blunt head is pressed against your folds—you’re leaking just as much as he is. You slick, and his pre cum mix for a messy collision of arousal as he presses into you slowly, so carefully, you feel like you could break at any second with how he handles you. 

He’s patient. When Alhaitham fucks you, he’s patient enough that you feel like his other half and not his means of pleasure. Like he fucks you for you and not for himself. 

“More,” you insist, impatient as you add, “I can take it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he clicks his teeth, “I want to take my time feeling you.”

And he does. He rolls his hips slowly. So slowly, you feel delirious. It’s a painful, gradual build-up of pleasure that has you trying to roll your hips into him to meet him halfway, a pathetic attempt when he’s on top of you to press his weight down on you to keep you in place. 

“Please, Haitham,” you whine, sweat shining across your sweet, pleasure-hazed face as he stares down at you, “Please more. I need it—need you. Need all of you.”

“You have all of me,” he groans, feeling the tight walls of your cunt squeeze around him, the squelching noise of his thick girth bullying into your folds in and out, in and out, in and out, driving him to the brink of insanity. “You’ve always had every piece of me.”

“I want more,” you hiss. 

He lets out a breathy laugh that turns into a soft moan. “If that’s what you want.”

The next thing you know, two strong, muscled arms are grabbing your thighs and bringing them around his torso to wrap around him, and his large hands grab your hips and pull, practically manhandling you deeper onto his cock. You shudder, letting out a shrill, high-pitched gasp as he intrudes further into your cunt, nudging the head of his cock against your sweetest of spots and making your body tremble. 

“Haitham,” you gasp, “Haitham, fuck—fuck, you feel so good. So deep—love when you fuck me like this.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, kissing in between your pretty little scrunched-up eyebrows, “I love fucking you like this, too. When you take me so well, squeeze so tight, and let me feel you like the good girl you are.”

His words make your folds squeeze around him, and fuck—he’s close. So fucking close, the pad of his rough, callused thumb meets your clit as he rubs circles, trying to bring you to the edge before he goes plummeting himself. 

“‘M close—almost…almost there,” you pant.

“Me too, baby,” he groans. He slams into you, skin slapping against skin and the glistening sheen of it mixing your sweat together. His mouth parts with pretty, low sounds of his pleasure, and your face twists with the devastating rush of yours. 

Once. Twice. A third time, and you fall apart as he thrusts into you and presses the tip of his thick length against the spongey spot in the back of your walls. 

“Haitham,” you gasp, legs tightening around him as your nails press crescent shapes into his back. “Fuck, I’m c-cumming…oh, Gods.”

“Good,” he gasps, and with one last roll of his desperate hips, he spills into you, too. A thick, sticky, familiar rush of heat fills your cunt, ropes of cum painting you white within with every twitch of his aching cock. “Fuck—you feel so good. So perfect—you were made for me. Me.”

“You,” you whisper, breathless. 

You let him shudder over you, fingers running through his hair as he finishes releasing his load into you before he slumps his weight over your body. It’s a small couch—decorative more than functional. (All thanks to Kaveh, of course.) But you don’t particularly care when you’re under him. It feels right all the same. 

“We have the house to ourselves this weekend,” he reminds you after some time of catching your breaths. “So…so we can do this all you want.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes as you poke his forehead. “You’re obscene.”

“I’m romantic,” he corrects, “I just want to be with you and nothing else. Can’t blame a man when he’s been gifted such a beautiful sight before him.”

“And cheesy, too,” you huff. 

He smiles. My love, my soul, my heart. 

——————————

You wake up Monday morning to Alhaitham already gone—it’s rare that he’s ever up before you. He leaves the house just in time to make it to work exactly on the dot and not a moment sooner or a moment later. But, as is with any Akademiya position, there are quarterly meetings that even the scribe can’t avoid. You giggle at the image in your head of a grumpy Alhaitham carefully tiptoeing around the room as he miserably gets ready for an early morning of extra work, all while making sure he doesn’t wake you. 

You yawn, sitting up to start your morning for your own day of work ahead—but it catches your eye before you can fully rise from bed, making you pause. 

A note? No, you realize almost instantly. Not just a note—a letter:

To my love, my soul, my heart: Kalpalata lotuses will bloom soon. I forget how beautiful the world is sometimes, and I suppose it’s because I am always distracted by your beauty alone. Will you laugh as you read this? I suppose you might because even I must admit, it is a rather cliche thing to say. I can just picture your smile now, and I am certain I will have it memorized until my last breath. It’s easy to remember it so well when it’s all I see in my dreams. Have I told you how often I see you in them? It’s difficult to think that there was once a time in Sumeru when we did not dream. It seems like sleeping beside your body is no longer enough—your presence is required even in my slumber for me to truly be at peace.  Perhaps when the lotuses bloom, we can take a trip to the deeper parts of the rainforest to catch a glimpse of a few. They say the vines are blessed by The Lord herself. I was never one to seek out the divine, but perhaps with a gift as sacred as you, I should take the time to thank Lady Kusanali for granting such brilliance to take bloom in my presence. Only, the difference is that here with you, there are no cliffs to climb or seasons to await. You are mine to bloom, always—my precious, beautiful lotus.  Forever yours,  Haitham ♡

ITS DONE. HAPPY LATE BDAY TO MY FIRST AND LONGEST LOVE. YOU MEAN EVERYTHING AND MORE TO MEEEEE

[rostekhorn]

If anyone is under the impression that, if given Ukrainian territories, Russia is gonna stop and won't go for Poland, Baltics and Germany in the very near future, I would kindly ask you to maybe learn a thing or two from the recent history.

One of the things that infuriated me about the policy of "arm Ukraine, but be very very careful about what you give them, and be sure you impose all kinds of limits on how they can use it, and generally give them enough weapons to not lose but not enough to actually win, because we're really afraid of escalation" is that shoveling every weapon in the U.S. arsenal short of nuclear bombs into Ukrainian hands, and giving them complete discretion in how they were used, until they actually won, was by far the least dangerous policy we could've adopted. It keeps the fighting "safely" between Russians and Ukrainians. Same as when the Russians were arming the Vietnamese or the Americans were arming the Afghans.

But now? If Putin manages to finally take over Ukraine and doesn't stop at that, which he won't, then his next steps are going to be into the Baltics or Poland. Those are NATO countries. Which means the potential for escalation into nuclear war just went massively up. Yes, even if Trump manages to pull the U.S. out of NATO altogether, this will still be true: France and Britain have nuclear weapons too. (And the way things are going, Germany might decide to go that way too in the not-too-distant future). All the dithering, half-a-loaf bullshit of the last three years has left us in a place where nuclear escalation is now more likely than ever.

Not that reducing the chances of nuclear war was the only reason, or even the best reason, why we should've helped Ukraine a lot more, but it's a pretty good reason nonetheless.

Trump and Putin having talks about Ukraine behind Zelenskyys back is just 🤢

This also happened in 2008 when Russia attacked Georgia and annexed parts of our land btw. The US and Russian governments urged Saakashvili back then to agree to Russia's terms and give Samachablo to Russia in exchange to Russia stopping there and not occupying the rest of Georgia too.

So yes, the US has already negotiated with Russia on behalf of others and we can clearly see how successful their negotiations went when just 6 years later Russia annexed Crimea and then started full scale war in 2022. Negotiating with Russia does NOT work. Russia will NEVER honor any agreement, even if the agreement gives them right to what they shouldn't even have rights to! If anything this makes them even more greedy, like a petulant child.

If anyone is under the impression that, if given Ukrainian territories, Russia is gonna stop and won't go for Poland, Baltics and Germany in the very near future, I would kindly ask you to maybe learn a thing or two from the recent history.

This is an absolutely horrendous situation. All world power concentrated on hands of a handful mean men, which is not new but the amount of wealth they have have never been this great before & frankly I am terrified of the future of the world.

[soov]

HOW TO KiSS。 lee heeseung

fem reader & frat heeseung ᗢ 1O8O words ━━ fluff ꕀ college!au, estabilished relationship ⌗ WARNiNGS pet names, kissing, skinship. HOW TO SERiES

Jake Sim was going to kill you and Heeseung.

Another year had just went by and Jake decided to throw a party at his pool house, inviting half of the frat to spend the new year’s eve there. His parents were away, and he had to tame everyone so no fancy teacups and pretty plates would be broken by the end of the party.

With that, he gave everyone a simple rule: to not use anything without his permission.

Heeseung didn’t even budge with the rule, instead, he insisted on swimming with you as the sun began to rise on the first of January. He tugged on your fingers softly, pulling you along and reassuring you that the Sim’s would not mind since he was basically a part of the family now.

The sky was partially dark, but some pink hues were starting to show up. Heeseung dipped his feet in the warm water pool — wearing jorts and a white tee — and turned to you, helping you get in.

Despite the predicament you found yourself in, you giggled. “Are you sure Jake won’t be mad?” You asked your boyfriend. The title was still strange — boyfriend. You were only together for three weeks, and you didn’t even kiss when the clock struck midnight from being too nervous to do so.

Heeseung grinned, nodding his head to the sides. “Nah, Jake loves me. He’ll get over it.” His palm found yours again, and he gave it a light peck before slipping further into the pool. His white tee clung to his body as he swam backwards. “Come on, it’s just us now.”

You hesitated, sinking your toes into the water. That was exactly what made you nervous. Not any stupid rule, but Heeseung waiting for you like he had all the time in the world got your heart beating a little too fast.

He noticed your quietness. He always did. “You’re thinking too hard again,” Heeseung muttered, eyes zeroed on you in case you were uncomfortable. “What’s on your mind?”

Clearing your throat, you glanced at his hands that had left yours and now were nearing your body. “I just...” A sigh escaped you. “We didn’t even kiss at midnight.”

Heeseung planted his feet to the bottom of the pool, blinking quickly. Then, a wolfish smirk formed on his face. He stepped closer, just enough so that your knees touched underwater. “Oh,” he hummed. “Is that what this is about?”

You kicked his foot lightly, rolling your eyes. “No... Maybe. I don’t know, it just feels like we missed something. I kept thinking about it throughout the party.”

“Really?” His lips jutted out in a playful pout, though he couldn’t avoid how hot his face was getting from knowing you wanted to kiss him. “But I kissed your cheek. Was that not enough?”

Lee gazed at you like you had just made the worst accusation to ever exist, looking ridiculously adorable with his sad doe-like eyes.

With a brief scoff, you looked away. “I’m just saying, Seung. Shut up...”

Shrugging, he pulled you into him by the hips, allowing himself to be a bit bolder than usual. “Do you want a kiss now?”

You stared up at him nervously, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you looked for the right words, “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

His eyes widened comically wide, and his cheeks went redder. “Y– You haven’t?” The affirmation was absurd to him. You were gorgeous, a goddess, an angel to grace the lives of mere mortals — your mind and personality got him baffled every time. How the hell didn’t you have your first kiss yet?

“Not really,” you confessed, taking note of how his fingers squeezed the fat of your waist through your dress.

A sweet smile made its way to his face, and still bashfully, he sat you on one of the built-in pool stools and stood between your legs. “Can I teach you?”

“Yes.” You said it a little too fast, but that only made Heeseung’s grin widen.

Tenderly, he rested one of his hands on your face, the other still on your waist. He leaned closer, just enough so you’d have enough room to avoid it, if you wanted. “Tell me if you wanna stop.” Heeseung whispered.

Following your nod, he pressed his lips to yours, unmoving, just to test waters. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you allowed him to have your first kiss. As he caught a glimpse of your smile, he pecked you again, this time for a bit longer.

Heeseung let you take the lead, following your pace as you did your best to kiss him. You liked his bottom lip better, he noticed, and the realization got his stomach flipping.

Tentatively tilting your head, you ended up knocking your nose and teeth with his, and pulling back with your face burning.

Your boyfriend laughed softly, letting his hand slide to your shoulder, “S’okay. It happens.” He assured you, toying with your matching necklace

that had a big ‘H’ pendant on it. “No need to be embarrassed about it, doll.”

However his words didn’t help you, and you ended up hiding your face into his neck, making his laughs intensify.

“Stop giggling.” You muttered against his skin.

“Kay. M’sorry.” Heeseung said back, mustering a straight face, but ending up with the softest look on his face. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes, please, Seung.” Your reply made his heart stop for a second, hopelessly lost in your voice. His irises must’ve been pink-tinted from how perfect you seemed from his point of view. It was embarrassing, to him, to even acknowledge how in love he was with you.

He pulled you into another kiss, and you hesitated when he deepened it further. Nevertheless, Heeseung never rushed you. The black-haired student only pulled back to murmur soft reassurances before diving into you again, lost in the contrast between your soft lips and his chapped ones.

The moment you finally parted, both of you were breathless, and Heeseung pressed his forehead against yours, a proud grin etched to his pearly whites.

“Not bad for your first lesson,” he praised, rivulets of chlorine water dripping down his neck to his clothed chest. “Think you’ll need more practice?”

You tried to act annoyed, but your giddy reaction gave you away, “Maybe.”

Heeseung beamed, dipping his head once more, but now to briefly kiss your cheek.

“Good. I’m a patient teacher.”

𔓕　LETTERS FROM REi ━━ this is mad life inaccurate first kisses suck (projecting)

2025 © SOOV

[raisedbythetv89]

God I am getting UNBELIEVABLY sick of the people who when the discussion of “who is the best partner for buffy” comes up and they’re like “obviously it’s faith” or “no actually WILLOW is the best partner” with the air that their take is superior because they’re saying a woman instead of a man and using a citing of “seeing red” as an “OF COURSE taking spike out of the running” type thing when faith and willow are literally the only people who are actual rapist from the entire scoobie gang. Soul having, memory erasing, body stealing, repeat offenses and ZERO real accountability or amends made besides their own “recovery”. They’re horrible people, horrible friends, and they betray buffy over and over and OVER again and make her feel SO BAD about herself. In no universe are they THE BEST partner for Buffy - cuz that’s the debate not who you personally would enjoy or like to have seen but THE BEST

CORDELIA is the actual best female partner for Buffy with kendra being a VERY close second (I just love the idea of Cordy’s family not losing their money and Buffy having a rich wife who takes care of her and spoils her but even if she didn’t have family money she would 100% get her paid by the council as well as understanding her and forcing her to confront hard things bc buffy is so avoidant but cordy is really blunt and honest and she would absolutely eviscerate anyone who dares speak badly about Buffy the way she stands up for xander who DOES NOT deserve it) and also personally I would have LOVED if Dru had become Buffy’s insane vampire watch dog type girlfriend for a more twisted dynamic that I think would still serve Buffy best if she was more morally grey because NO ONE could mistreat her if any of these three women were her partners they would all either literally kill you or emotionally destroy you in the case of cordelia lol and Dru - I just wanted the connection of angel’s two main victims to be explored more and I like the idea of the more corrupted one using that to protect the one that still has light in her

BE BETTER AND MORE CREATIVE WITH YOUR CHOICES OF FEMALE PARTNERS FOR BUFFY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Faith is absolute shit at practically everything and causes nothing but more problems for Buffy and willow has shown she is completely unable to show up for buffy emotionally or actually understand the burden of being the slayer - SHE GETS JEALOUS OF TARA BC SHE CAN EMPATHIZE WITH BUFFY ABOUT LOSING HER MOM AND GETS MAD

Like I’m still team spuffy til I die bc that’s literally her other half and I ignore the extremely out of character moments in seeing red and in many ways spike is also a victim of angel so I still get some of that one victim helping another dynamic I enjoy but I also like buffy with kendra or cordy for the high school years rather than endgame but just like idk???? Maybe put some actual fucking thought into it instead of “with the nearest gay woman” without actually noting how those women are treating Buffy because ask any woman kisser out there - just because she’s a woman DOES NOT automatically mean she’s gonna treat you better than a man and that is CERTAINLY the case with faith and willow.

[cerealmonster15]

The Perfect Birthday Treat [Jamil/Azul]

Summary: Azul's birthday is coming up, and Jamil enlists Riddle and Ruggie to help him find a suitable gift. It has to be good enough to repay Azul for the spices he bought for Jamil's last birthday, after all. That, and perhaps another, not-so-secret reason…

Word count: 3361

[Ao3 Link] [See Ao3 for more tags and notes]

Jamil stood in front of the shelf, arms crossed, scowl cemented onto his face. His eyes scanned the array of trinkets before him, but no matter how long he glared at the items, his look of displeasure did not soften. 

“You look like you’re trying to vaporize that plush octopus,” Ruggie said, coming up from behind to stand next to Jamil. “Is that what you’re gonna get him?”

Jamil shook his head. “There’s no way Azul would accept that as an equal exchange for what he gave me last year.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you asked him for those.” Ruggie shrugged, folding his hands behind his head as he spoke. “That’s kinda on Azul if he went to all the trouble to find fancy spices himself."

“You know how Azul is, Ruggie,” Riddle said as he approached from Jamil’s other side. “It doesn’t matter if Jamil asked for it; the fact of  the matter is that he’s already given Jamil the nice gift, and he will be incredibly insufferable about it if Jamil’s next gift to him isn’t up to his standards.”

As Riddle spoke, a scowl akin to the one Jamil wore on his face formed on Riddle’s, as well. Such was the effect that thoughts of Azul Ashengrotto tended to have on people around him. 

Ruggie, however, only smirked. “Yeah, well, I bet Jamil wouldn’t be giving half as much thought to this if he didn’t have a big old CRUSH on the guy, shishisi…”

Jamil directed his scowl at the snickering Ruggie, his cheeks growing warm. “Shut the hell up. You agreed to come help me, so help me.”

“I really don’t understand your taste, Jamil…” Riddle shook his head. “But, Azul’s ulterior motives and your own feelings aside, a gift must be repaid nonetheless. Have you considered buying him something practical? Such as a new tie pin, or a desk organizer?”

Ruggie scrunched his nose at Riddle’s suggestions. “Yeah, because we really want Azul thinking about office supplies when he looks at Jamil.”

“Wh- Practical gifts are perfectly suitable to give to your peers!” Riddle sputtered. “What better way to show that you care for someone than to get them something that they can and will use on a day to day basis, and has meaningful functionality, so that you know it won’t burden them by just taking up space and collecting dust?!”

Ruggie shrugged. “I dunno, something fun? Or something expensive. Jamil, what’s your budget for winning over Azul’s affections?”

Jamil shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m leaving you at school next time.”

“It’s a valid question!” Ruggie protested, trailing after Jamil and Riddle as they moved further down the shopping stalls. “I bet if you handed him a fancy schmancy ring, his heart would stop.”

“Octopus have three hearts,” Riddle corrected. 

“Who’s to say he still has three when he’s on land? If those tentacles of his disappear, maybe he’s down two hearts.” Ruggie scratched the back of his head, looking to seriously consider this train of thought. “You think he’s still got blue blood when he’s on land?”

“None of that matters right now, and I’m not buying Azul a ring,” Jamil snapped. “We need to focus. Practical suggestions only.”

“I gave you two practical suggestions already,” Riddle huffed, “but, fine. Why not follow Azul’s own example and purchase him something consumable? There is a tea shop nearby that I visited with Trey and Cater recently. You can purchase from their selection of tea to take home, and I would say it is rather excellent quality. 

Jamil paused to consider this option.

As did Ruggie, who turned to Riddle with a grin. “Tea shops usually have good desserts, right?”

Riddle turned away, his cheeks dusting a light read. “...Y-yes, this one is no exception… But Azul holds a strict diet with himself, from what I recall, so I’m not sure how relevant those options would be.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Ruggie put a hand on both his companions’ shoulders. “Everyone likes a sweet treat, deep down. Let’s go check it out!”

“Th-that’s hardly the case with everyone, Ruggie!” Riddle protested, thoughts of Cater flashing in his mind. He turned to Jamil with a questioning look. “However, I do think it would be worth visiting, at the very least to check out the tea they have to offer. Are you interested, Jamil?”

For someone who outwardly and openly claimed to follow a perfectly curated meal plan, Azul’s lingering glances on the dessert displays in the cafeteria did not go unnoticed by Jamil. Really, that was something he felt that Azul and Riddle had in common. If the flustered look on Riddle’s face at the mere mention of this tea shop’s forbidden delicacies was any indication of the quality of said desserts, then perhaps even Azul wouldn’t be able to feign indifference when presented with a hand-selected snack. At the very least, he could pick out a few tea bags to go with it, so if Azul really insisted on denying his sweet tooth, he wouldn’t end up empty handed.

“Alright,” Jamil decided, “lead the way, Riddle.”

-

“So, we definitely have to sample everything before we can make the perfect decision on what to pick out for Azul, right?” Ruggie said, his eyes growing wide at the vast array of desserts and teas on display for purchase. “I mean, it would just be irresponsible if we didn’t take our time to really make sure we’re finding the absolute best possible choice, right?”

“Ruggie,” Riddle chided, “while there are no rules posted about a limit on how many samples you can try, there is still an unspoken expectation of etiquette to not overindulge yourself or waste the store’s supply!”

“Aw, c’mon,” Ruggie nudged Jamil beside him with his elbow, “how else is Jamil supposed to show Azul how dedicated he really is, huh? We’re talking about the fate of our friend’s love life, here!”

Jamil pointedly turned away from Ruggie and faced Riddle instead. “You’ve been here before, and your dorm serves a lot of tea and desserts for parties, right? Can I count on you for some recommendations?”

Riddle smiled. “Yes, absolutely. Come with me,” he said, leading Jamil over to the side of the shop where various tea bags and jars of loose leaf tea were displayed. “Perhaps we should start with selecting a tea first, and then I can help you pick out a dessert that pairs well with it. You drink quite a bit of tea as well, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jamil nodded, “that part won’t be too difficult, but I’ll just have to decide on a flavor profile, and if I want to give him something more herbal and relaxing, or a more energizing, caffeinated tea…”

“I suppose I can see the benefits of either in terms of Azul. A black or green tea may be more suited for his busy days, but then an herbal blend would be a nice respite when winding down after a long week…”

The two pondered silently over the selection before them, carefully picking up each choice to examine the ingredients, description, and packaging. One could never be too careful, especially when dealing with as fickle a recipient as Azul Ashengrotto.

“Some cake oughta help you think clearer, shishishi…”

Jamil and Riddle turned around, and Ruggie handed them each a toothpick with a cube of glazed lemon cake samples stuck on the tips. 

Riddle narrowed his eyes, but he and Jamil accepted the treats regardless. “Ruggie… You had better be pacing yourself.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it!” Ruggie grinned. “I told the nice granny at the counter the total truth, and she said she’d be happy to help us out with as many samples as we wanted!”

Jamil, chewing on the lemon cake cube he was offered, narrowed his eyes at Ruggie. “...What exactly did you-?”

“Oh, so these are your little friends!”

The little old lady that Ruggie mentioned walked up beside the group, holding out a platter of miniature samples of various desserts that were on display at the counter, alongside small sample-sized cups of teas they had in stock, as well. “You all can call me Granny Marigold. Your friend here told me all about your situation, so please don’t hesitate to try anything here that you’d like.”

“Thank you, Granny Marigold,” Riddle said, eyeing the plate with a barely concealed look of intense desire. “I hope Ruggie didn’t pester you too much for free samples.”

Granny only laughed. “No, not at all! …Oh, I recognize your face, sweetheart,” she said, smiling down at Riddle. “You were here just last week with a few other friends, weren’t you? Riddle, was it?”

Riddle blinked up at her in surprise, eyes wide. “Yes, I-I was… I thought the service and quality was excellent, and recommended we try looking here for the gift. I, er, did not expect to be recognized from my last visit.”

“I always remember my customers,” Granny smiled, then turned to Jamil. “Your friend Ruggie here says you’re looking for a gift for a special someone, hm?”

Jamil averted his gaze away from the knowing look that both Granny and Ruggie were giving him,and instead focused on the plate of samples in front of him. “...Yes,” he mumbled. “A classmate. His birthday’s soon, and he got me a really nice gift for mine a few months ago.”

“Oh, well, isn’t that sweet,” Granny cooed, much to the embarrassment of Jamil and the delight of Ruggie. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. They say the way to a man’s heart - or anyone’s, for that matter- is through the stomach. Do take your time with choosing, and let me know if you need any help. But, if you want my advice,” she said, leaning over with a whisper. “You can’t go wrong with a slice of dark chocolate cake.”

Jamil, picking up a sample cup with a piece of strawberry shortcake and handing it to Riddle, nodded. “Thank you, I’ll try that out.”

Riddle, flustered yet again that his silent desires had been so easily clocked, quietly accepted the snack. He offered Jamil a trade, selecting one of the sample cups of tea and handing it over. “...The black tea selections often go well with dark chocolate. ”

And he was right, Jamil thought. The tea’s strong flavor complimented the strong, bittersweet taste of the dark chocolate alongside it, and made for a flavorful combination. Still, the cake itself tasted rather rich. Perhaps Azul would be more willing to accept the cake if he got some fresh fruit to go with it…

“Mmm, hey, Riddle, what’s this one?” Ruggie asked, shoving his sample cup into Riddle’s hand next.

Riddle frowned at how nonchalant Ruggie was being, and chose to give it a sniff instead of tasting from someone else’s cup. “...It’s hibiscus,” he said, handing it back to Ruggie and turning to Jamil. “If you wanted something more herbal to go with the cake, that would be a good choice, as well.”

“Hey, why not get him a mix?” Ruggie suggested. “No rules say you can only get one option. Get him one of those tester boxes of tea and call it a day!”

“That’s not as thoughtful as something hand picked,” Jamil mumbled. 

“Aw, right, I keep forgetting you’re doing this for LOVE.”

“If we weren’t in the middle of a tea shop, I’d kick you.”

Ruggie only snickered again.

“...Ruggie may have a point,” Riddle said. “Perhaps you could pick out a small handful of choices? That was you would have the benefit of a selection with thought put behind in terms of flavor combination and recipient preferences, but also a bit of variety, so that Azul cannot complain that you got him something unsuitable.” 

Jamil couldn’t help but smile at that comment. Azul was fussy, but the three of them had dealt with him long enough that his mannerisms were becoming all too predictable. “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.”

-

Azul snapped out of his dozing state when he heard a knock at the door to his office. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his watch, wondering who on earth would be coming to see him at nearly 10pm on a school night. He thought for a moment about sending whoever it was away, but if they were coming here at such a time, then they surely must be desperate for his assistance…

“Come in,” he said after debating for a few more seconds in his head. He was surprised, however, when he looked up and found not a generic and desperate looking student entering the room, but instead, Jamil Viper. 

“Oh, good, so you haven’t already gone to sleep.” Jamil said, walking over to Azul’s desk and placing a nicely wrapped box in front of him.

“Well, well, what a surprise…” Azul eyed the box, and then glanced back up at Jamil. “And here I thought you’d forgotten to get me anything for my birthday, what with how many times we’d seen each other today.”

Jamil rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, well, I had to keep most of it in the refrigerator. It would’ve been no good to give it to you at the start of classes, and then I had basketball right after. I wasn’t about to let you chide me for being a day late, so I made sure I got over here once Vargas let us go.”

He chose to glance around Azul’s office, focusing on looking at anything that WASN’T AZUL as Azul began unpeeling the wrapping paper,

“Oh, in the refrigerator? Something homemade, I presume?” Azul mused, sliding his nail carefully under the tape.

“Not this time,” Jamil responded, and then immediately, mentally kicked himself for such word choice as he noticed Azul glance back up at him out of the corner of his eye. “...I was out shopping with Riddle and Ruggie yesterday, that’s all.”

“I see…” Azul finished removing the wrapping paper - An agonizingly slow process, in Jamil’s opinion - And his eyebrows rose with recognition at the tea shop’s logo on the box. “Oh, I’ve heard of this shop. It just opened recently, no? Some of my staff mentioned it the other day, and I had been meaning to go see it for myself - For market research, of course. It’s always good to stay up to date on what the competition is offering, you know.”

Jamil was on one hand, relieved to hear that he seemed to be on the right track with his gift, but on the other hand, really wished that Azul would shut the hell up and just open the damn box. Perhaps he should’ve made a run for it after handing over the box, but it was too late for that now.

Finally, Azul did in fact open the box, and his eyes widened with surprise when he saw what was inside.

“Is this…  A slice of chocolate cake?”

“And some tea,” Jamil said, pointing to the tin containers in the box alongside it. “We picked a few kinds. Black tea, green tea, and an herbal blend… Riddle said the place is really good, and we sampled all of these before picking them.”

A wry smile spread across Azul’s face. “Oh? You went to all that trouble, just for me? Why, I’m honored, truly.”

Jamil only grit his teeth and crossed his arms in response.

“Well,” Azul continued, glancing down at the cake. “I suppose it would be a waste not to try something you spent so much time picking out for me, and I did say I wanted to do a  little market research…”

“Can you not talk about this like I just handed you some sort of inconvenience?” Jamil huffed, turning to leave. “Eat it, or don’t. It’s not my problem anymore.”

“Now, hold on, a moment!” Azul called out, stopping Jamil in his tracks. “I haven’t even tried it yet. We have to see if it’s really as good as you and Riddle claim, yes?”

Jamil slowly turned back around. “...Hurry up, then. I should be getting back to my dorm.”

“Mmhm, always in such a rush, aren’t you?” Azul said, his smile unfaltering. He picked up the fork that conveniently lay in the box beside the cake, and gave it a few pokes. “The raspberries are a nice touch.”

“Do you always talk so much before you eat?”

Azul only laughed, and then FINALLY took a bite of the cake… And then immediately covered his mouth and turned his face away from Jamil, going quiet.

Jamil felt his body tense. Was it that bad? Did Azul secretly hate chocolate, or something? Maybe Granny Marigold had accidentally given him a slice of an old, stale cake that she’d meant to throw in the trash? Or maybe-

“It’s delicious…” Azul mumbled. “I, ahem, imagine it would taste even better alongside the tea you selected to go with it.”

Jamil exhaled a sigh of relief. Really, why did Azul have to make everything so complicated?

“...Yeah,” he answered, “that’s the idea. I guess you could save the rest for tomorrow, or whatever. Uh…” Jamil tugged at the hood of his sweatshirt, resisting the urge to tug it completely over his face. “...Glad you like it. See ya.”

“Ah, yes... Well, thank you,” Azul said, reaching for the top of the box to close it up. “Good night, then-”

“Actually,” Jamil suddenly stepped forward, putting a hand on top of Azul’s before he could fully close the box. “...Are you busy right now?”

Azul looked startled at the sudden contact, glancing at where Jamil’s hand clutched his. “I… Um…” His gaze shifted to the papers he was looking over before Jamil arrived - and before he started nodding off - and then back up at Jamil. “…Well, I was just going to finish looking over today’s sales, so I planned to be awake for a bit longer…”

Jamil removed his hand from Azul’s, and instead reached into the box to pick up the tin of herbal tea. “Would you… Like some company? This one is good for helping you relax and wind down for the day. I, uh, can go boil some water for you.”

Azul’s look of bewilderment slowly melted into a warm smile. “And it looks like there are enough leaves for at least two cups worth, no?”

He stood, reaching for the tin. “You’re my guest. Allow me-“

“It’s your birthday,” Jamil took a step back, holding the tin to his chest. “Sit down and just tell me where to go. I’ll do it.”

“Must you be so stubborn?” Azul sighed, but neither of them could hide the smiles on their faces. 

“Well, if you’re going to insist on it,” Azul continued, “then at least allow me to show you the way. Perhaps if you start getting used to Octavinelle’s layout, you might reconsider that dorm transfer offer?”

Jamil sighed, about to throw another eye- roll Azul’s way, but couldn’t quite muster it when he instead felt the sensation of a gloved hand reaching for his, their fingers slowly, gently intertwining. He glanced down, making sure he wasn’t imagining such a  feeling. When he glanced back up, Azul was smiling back at him with what might have been the softest, warmest expression anyone had ever looked at him with before.

“...Yeah,” Jamil found himself saying, voice barely a whisper, caught in the moment, “maybe I would.”

Maybe it was a joke, or maybe there was some truthful longing to the statement. Either way, they both knew the unlikelihood of such a drastic change happening… But, sometimes, it was nice to pretend, if only for a moment.

Jamil tucked the tin into his hoodie pocket and then reached over to Azul,  plucking the hat from atop his head and placing it upon his own. 

“Well?” He asked, grinning at Azul’s once again startled expression. “How do I look? Does it suit me?”

“...Yes,” Azul breathed out. “You look right at home.”

“Come on, then,” Jamil gently tugged on Azul’s hand, leading them out of the room. “Let’s go make that tea.”

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

A Cluster of Burning Stars - Chapter Five

in which Rouge fistfights an Eight-Year-Old

{ao3} {tumblr}

Tails was good at sneaking around. He’d had to do it a lot growing up, when he wanted to swipe food without a hassle or get from Point A to Point B without running into any of the other kids. Then, once Robotnik destroyed his island, he’d had plenty of practice with breaking in-and-out of all kinds of places, as well as staying hidden under intense pressure. He was always a fast learner, and just one or two mistakes that ended in close calls or charred tails were enough for him. He was working on holographic projection technology to work as a disguise, or perhaps a temporary invisibility, but they weren’t ready yet. It didn’t matter; GUN was not hard to sneak around in. The problem with the military was that they desperately needed everything to be in order all the time. All their soldiers uniform, all their movements predictable. Maybe it made organization easier, but it also made them easy as hell to exploit. Just a quick hack into their systems taught him all their camera movements, for instance. And he could always tell which of the cameras was perched highest, so he could carefully, very carefully, edge his way over to that one, moving his tails as slowly and silently as possible, keeping to the shadows and narrowing his eyes to bare slits so the whites didn’t shine against whatever lit his way. 

He didn’t have to stay slow during this mission, at least. Robotnik wasn’t subtle in his attacks, and so he could hide inside clouds of smoke and bounce from hall-to-hall without worrying about making sounds over the blaring alarms. Chaos, he wished he’d brought earplugs. Probably not a good thing to wear during an attack, but for temporary relief… 

No. He didn’t get to have “temporary” relief. Not when half the world was on fire at any given time. Not when he could do something about it. 

He came to a forked hallway, and perched atop the highest camera. Not that he needed to bother; Robotnik had probably shot them all out anyway, if the shattered glass on the floor meant anything. Tails glanced down the three routes, considering. With his luck, they probably each chose one path to go down. He just hoped that when Knuckles showed up, he’d figure out which one to follow Robotnik through… who was he kidding, Knuckles absolutely wouldn’t. He’d take a random option and go for it. Which only gave him a one-in-three chance of following through with the plan. 

Okay, Tails, think. That’s what you do best.

After a moment, Tails went over the layout of the base in his mind. The left hall would lead to the cargo bay, where he needed to go. But which direction would Robotnik… 

Whichever direction has the most damage going down. He didn’t know much about Shadow, but he didn’t seem like a messy guy. There was quite a bit of wall damage down the right hall… so that was where the Doctor had gone. 

Tails leapt for that hall, grabbing a pipe from the ceiling and yanking it down. He wasn’t quite as strong as Knuckles, but it was already quite weak from whatever the Robo-Walker had done, and it bent with a loud creak. A decent signal that Knuckles would understand. Probably understand. He was a bit of a doofus sometimes. 

Still, Tails had his own job to do. He flew down the left hall, this time having to actually pay attention to his camera-hopping and shadow-chasing, as the area was significantly less damaged. When he heard a pounding of footsteps, he spun himself flat up against the ceiling, pushing into the shadows as deep as possible as several GUN robots tore down the hall. They completely missed the fox above them; while it gave Tails a nice boost of confidence, he was realistic enough to know that meant they could’ve missed quite a bit while heading this direction. Which would mean more trouble for him down the line. 

He also noted to himself, as he started off again, that with the lack of humans in the area, they must have evacuated last night. Good. Now he could crash whatever he wanted without anyone yelling at him about “casualties.” 

But after a few hall turns, he managed to make it to the cargo hold. He waited beside the doorway for a while, listening carefully, until he heard a whooshing pass through the air. Some kind of hovercraft? Or maybe a flying mobian. Whatever it was, it just passed, so Tails took the opportunity to poke his head in. 

Giant boxes, most of them bigger than he was, lined the walls, and several metal squares and large cages held a pillar towards the back of the room, above multiple podiums and the occasional churning floor-fan. Multiple tracks pushed through the center pillar, rolling boxes back and forth; right near a top track was a white-and-purple shape. Definitely a winged mobian, the purple shapes were flapping in turn with an expected hovering pattern. After a moment, it flew over to a hangar claw, grabbing onto it as it pulled the figure upwards through the ceiling. 

Tails narrowed his eyes, before immediately leaping outwards and circling his tails, getting ready to follow. When he heard a huff, though, he dropped beneath a track, pushing up against the metal until he saw the figure fly down past him, something shiny and red in her hands. 

Bingo.

He only saw the figure for a moment, but he marked all observations in his head, jostled them for a second, then put them in order: White fur. Large ears. Bat. Female. Teenager, maybe young adult. Her eyes were too focused on the emerald to notice him. That was her mistake. 

After a moment of glancing around, she flew up into another doorway, and Tails wasted no time in following. He peered up into a second hangar, where she was already dropping onto a wooden box, throwing herself down with a forceful enough kick to shatter the wood. With nothing inside, she moved onto the next box, and the next, until the lavender emerald spilled out. 

“Finally,” she said, eyes glimmering. 

But as she reached for it, Tails catapulted himself forwards, gripping tight onto the shining gem, before spinning and using his free hand to steady himself against the floor as he skidded several feet away from the shocked bat. 

“Thanks for the find!” Tails said. 

“Give that back, kid!” she jumped for him, and he ducked and spun, landing against a large barred wall, which he quickly scampered up. He reached back into his tails, depositing the emerald in his fluff and pulling out one of his blasters. He shot towards her, but she swiftly dodged and flew into the air, letting out a growl. 

“You snooze, you lose.” Tails shrugged, before launching himself off the wall. “Now hand over the other one.” 

“Sorry,” she rolled her head back, and then cracked her knuckles. “I don’t deal with toddlers.” In response, Tails shot at her again. She swiftly dodged, and then shouted, “Okay, what is wrong with you?”

“I don’t have time for games.” Tails shrugged. “Emerald. Now.”

“Okay, technically,” the bat sighed, dramatically gesturing and flicking her ears, “It’s red, so it’s a bixbite. Nobody ever gets that right.”

“Nobody cares. Now hand it over. The good Doctor’s lost his gemstone privileges.” 

She put her hands on her hips. “What makes you think I’m working for the Doctor?”

“You walked in with him.”

“...okay, fair. But I have my reasons.”

“Wanna explain, or should I shoot you again?” 

“Right.” her eyes narrowed. “Guess we’re doing this.” 

She turned, spun, and kicked him in the back of the head.

---

Tails’s direction to Knuckles worked wonders; soon as he saw the heavily-damaged hallway, he presumed that was where Robotnik had gone, and took off running at top speed. He sure wasn’t as fast as Sonic– he laughed at the idea as he turned a bend– but dodging badniks for the last couple years had really kept his leg strength up. After just a minute or two, he heard the loud crashing and zapping of GUN bots, and he dropped low, listening closely to the sounds of the fight. It sounded like it was heading this way… but wouldn’t Robotnik be heading farther inward? To get the emeralds? Why would the fight be coming closer to him?

No, that was definitely Robotnik. He heard his voice, shouting something at the robots. He shook his head to clear it, then listened again.

“Go ahead and set them off. Fifteen minutes should be quite enough time.” 

Fifteen minutes for what? Didn’t matter. Knuckles could take Robotnik down in five. 

Probably. 

He slid out past the bend, cracked his hands, and said, “Hey, Doc! Causing problems without me?” 

Robotnik, standing among several GUN-walkers, glanced back at the echidna. He groaned, and spoke into his communicator, “Hold on, delay that action.” 

“Too late.” 

“Fine. I’ll have to deal with this quickly.” 

Knuckles didn’t wait for another quip before leaping into the fray. He jumped atop a GUN robot, punched down into its head, and used it to push himself farther towards the Robo-Walker. Robotnik managed to dodge him, annoyingly, but he just spun and kicked off the wall before going for him again. 

With most badniks, Knuckles could punch through them easy. He knew the robo-walkers would be harder; Robotnik liked to make sure anything he himself would be inside of was as sturdy as humanly possible. But that just made attacking it all the more fun. 

---

Tails did a spin mid-air before turning and firing again. He and the bat had spent most of their fight darting around the top of the hangar, but eventually had started darting down halls, as the bat seemed interested in getting out of the building. Tails would prefer to stay inside, actually; he could fly long-distance, yes, but not as well as a winged mobian. He liked having his opponents in a closed space, where it was easier to see and hit them. 

The first time he’d fought back against a bully, it’d been the Armada. They were looking for the chaos emeralds, and ripping up the land around them as they did. Tails had preferred the forest to the villages, so he took personal offense to that and started using those bombs he’d been figuring out how to build. The birds were easier to hit when they were enclosed, he’d found. And then when Robotnik appeared, he found that the badniks weren’t very good in small spaces. They needed a lot of room to move, but Tails was small, and all he needed was enough room to shoot or stab or claw. Knuckles liked fighting in the open, so Tails would take most of the “indoor missions.” Which meant he was in his element here, and he would like if the bat didn’t manage to get outside the building. 

He must’ve been too lost in his thoughts, because the bat managed to get a solid kick in, sending him several feet back. She flew at him again, and he ducked, spun, and grabbed onto her back, crashing them both onto the floor. The bat kicked up, slamming against his tail with her heel, and he flinched back, giving her the opportunity to roll over, knock the gun out of his hands, and pin him down. 

“The hell is wrong with you, kid?” she hissed. 

“Right now? My main problem is I don’t have enough bombs.” he smirked.

“Tracks with what I know about you. Battle Bird Kid?”

“Aw, is that what people are callin’ me?” 

“They’re calling you a lot of things.” 

“People always have.” Tails kept eye contact with her, smirking and trying to draw her attention away from his left tail, which was reaching upwards towards her wings. “But I’m afraid I don’t know any of your names.”

“Just one. Rouge.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Tails said. “Now get off.” 

His tail hooked around the base of her wing, yanking it back hard enough to make her shout. Tails let go, kicked her in the chest, and reached into his tails to grab a second gun. The bat recovered extremely quickly, and was in front of him just as he raised it, grabbing the barrel and pulling it down. For a moment, they tried to wrestle over it, but Tails could quickly surmise that the older bat would probably overpower him here. So instead, he let go, stomped on her foot, and tackled her. They landed hard on the ground again, and she kicked him up into the air, slamming his back hard against the ceiling. As he started to fall, he spun his tails and whooshed up to position himself atop a camera. She flared her wings, and he immediately began flying farther back into the building.

She followed him for a minute or so, attempting to pull him down or knock the emerald out of his tails, but after a second, she hissed. “I don’t have time for this,” and started to turn around. 

Now, Tails wasn’t about to deal with that. He side-checked her, knocking the two of them through an open doorway and into another hangar. She grabbed his bangs and yanked him back, before throwing him forwards. Tails spun to look at her, which was a mistake; he didn’t realize what she was throwing him at until he landed hard against a barred wall. He hissed as a jolt of cold pain shot into his back, one of his tails instinctively curling around the bar to try and steady him. Rouge did a spin and a kick towards him, and he barely got out of the way before landing with a thud on the ground. 

As soon as he landed, both fox and bat heard a piercing addition to the alarm join in the cacophony. Rouge threw her hands up to her ears, screeching, but while Tails flinched, his immediate instinct was to run. The second alarm seemed to be coming from inside the room, considering the excruciating volume, so he catapulted himself off the ground and out the doorway they’d just come through. 

And just in time, too.

With a slam, a thick metal door jolted from the ceiling, blocking the path between the opponents less than a second after Tails had leapt. 

The sudden muffling of the second alarm combined with the loud crash of the door disoriented Tails for a second. He shook his head, slamming against its side with his hand, until he was able to process what had just happened. As soon as he did, he stared at the door for a solid few seconds, and then let out a piercing laugh. 

He scrambled to the door, pressing his ear against it. It just made him smile wider when he heard a furious pounding from the other side; it seemed like the bat was repeatedly kicking it. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Tails called, a bit smugly. “That’ll be solid steel.” 

“I know what GUN makes their doors out of!”

“Then you probably should’ve guessed the second alarm would be a lockdown due to unauthorized presence.” True, he hadn’t guessed that, he’d just wanted to get away from the sound, but she didn’t need to know that. He pulled his emerald from his tail and flipped it in his hands. “Wish I could’ve gotten that gem from you, but I should probably get out of here before GUN shows up to deal with you.”

“Wha– wait! Wait, kid, you don’t understand–”

“I understand I’m gonna have to break in again. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“No! This place is going to blow!” 

Tails blinked. Had he heard her right through the alarm? “It’s what?” 

“This place is rigged with explosives. We’ve got ten minutes tops to get out of here.” 

Tails jumped, his hand instantly reaching for the door. As if he could push it open. He stopped himself short of grabbing onto it, and reprimanded himself. Come on. Get it together. 

“Well,” he said, very slowly, “Good thing the emeralds are indestructible.” 

“Kid, wait–”

“I’ll just track it once the island blows. Nice knowing you.” 

He took off running before he could hear her response. Honestly, he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t be able to pretend he didn’t care if he heard her scream or beg. But he really shouldn’t care. She was working for Robotnik. She’d been trying to beat him up only a minute ago. What was important was the emerald wouldn’t get to the Doctor.

And what was important was that he get to Knuckles and get them the hell out of there.

When he finally slid down a hall, ducking under Robotnik’s fleeing Walker and tackling the pursuing Knuckles, he shouted, “Let him go! This place is about to explode!”

“What did you do?”

“Not me this time!”

---

Shadow was halfway across the forest. Once he’d finished planting the bombs, he’d immediately teleported a safe distance before heading for where the Doctor had planted their escape shuttle. He probably could have teleported directly there, but long-distance jumps were tiring. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. The Ultimate Lifeform shouldn’t get tired. 

He had to admit, though, he’d considered just running out of the building without teleporting. Just to wreck some extra GUN robots on his way out. Sure, they were all going to be destroyed soon enough, so it would’ve been pointless, but maybe breaking some of the stupid agency’s tech would’ve been cathartic. But, well, the uncomfortably familiar interior was something he’d wanted to get away from as soon as possible.

He heard a buzz coming from his quills. He reached back, pulling out the radio the Doctor had insisted they all take for communication. “This is Rouge!” came the static-garbled voice. “I’ve got a small problem?” 

Shadow rolled his eyes to the skies, as he continued to stalk his way over the roots and leaves. The leaves made a weird crunch under his feet that he wasn’t sure if he liked. 

“I may be… trapped inside a locked hangar with a chaos emerald.” 

Shadow almost hit the button to tell her to chaos control out, before remembering how long it took Sonic to figure out how to work that himself. And he was a chaos creature, like him. He wondered if it was possible for any normal mobians to even do such a thing. 

“I guess I won’t be able to call myself a treasure hunter anymore…” 

Against his will, his mind flashed towards the thought of her locked in the room of a GUN facility. It was probably her stupid voice, the tone she had of wondering if she was about to die. He’d heard that fear before, in confused whispers of his name, and then the quiet, “We need to get to the pods.” 

He should’ve recognized the determination in her voice then as something dangerous. He wasn’t thinking, then. He should’ve been thinking. But the second he saw the blood pooling on her dress, any and all rationality had vanished. If he’d paid attention to the look on her face, he would’ve known she didn’t want to use the escape pods for herself. Even though that would’ve been the right thing to do. She was injured, and she was a civilian. The projects were what the soldiers were after. They wouldn’t have cared if a child had slipped through the cracks, right? At the very most, they would’ve just imprisoned her once finding her on Earth, but kept her alive. She would’ve had a chance. 

“It’s going to be okay.” she’d said that to him, instead of the other way around. He should’ve known then.

But she’d pushed the others into pods, slamming the doors before Shadow could even react. Her hand slammed on the button to activate, and he’d run to try and stop her. She’d hugged him, so tight, her hands clinging to his quills like a lifeline, before throwing him hard and fast at a third pod, just as the other two froze and fell…

It took him a moment to realize he’d stopped walking. He looked down at the radio, swore, and turned around. 

---

It had taken Sonic several minutes to recover from what the initial explosion had done to his psyche. And then he’d had to crawl his way out of a bush. He’d squirmed his way through vents, obstacle courses, and wire-filled backrooms before, but somehow the bush was particularly annoying. Maybe it was the fact that the leaves were supposed to feel nice. He’d always liked the leaves in the greenhouse, and the ones on the trees earlier had been just as neat. But here they were attached to little branches that kept trying to poke his eyes out. So that was fun.

Still, he eventually gave up and rolled out of the bush with a spin-attack. He didn’t like to do those. Well, okay, he did, but it was an uncivilized move. Too animalistic for the sophisticated attacks that were expected of them. He’d heard that so many times that he felt he could recite the entire lecture from memory. And that meant something, because Sonic forgot most of the lectures he’d been given. His mind tended to wander, and now he really wished it hadn’t. He’d love to have to sit through a history lesson again.

Man, never thought he’d say that.

He tried to make his way to the GUN base, but even seeing the thing made him shake so bad that he just turned around and started farther into the forest. He eventually collapsed against a tree, holding his sides and trying to ground himself.

This was stupid. His new friends were in there, all alone. Were they friends? He hoped they were. But the important thing was that they were alone in a GUN base. They said they knew what they were doing, but did they? Did they at all? Did they know what could happen to them? And there was another party in there trying to kill them! Another party that looked just like…

Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t going in. He didn’t want to look at that man directly. Didn’t want to have to look at the image of the Professor and think about him doing the kinds of things Tails and Knuckles had talked about. The Professor would never. He was even reluctant to do tests that might cause discomfort on the subjects. Even if it would help. He’d been there when things were bad. He’d been there to stop… 

Sonic hugged himself so tight it started to hurt. Well, he’d been there. 

With all the noise around him, and all the thoughts rushing through his mind, a simple rustle of leaves shouldn’t have attracted his attention. Especially not one so far away. 

But he heard it, and he recognized the pattern of footsteps. Another second, as his ear flicked in the direction it was coming from, and he recognized the pattern, too. 

For a second, his chest nearly caved in on itself. He for sure couldn’t breathe for a moment, though nothing had hit him. 

Come on. You’ve been apart for one day. 

…okay, fifty years and a day, but it’s not like either of us were conscious for that.

He had to force himself to breathe in and out. Then he slapped the sides of his head, in a get it together, idiot sort-of way. 

That’s my mission. Find him. Get him to understand what’s really happening. Then we can find Amy, and then… 

He didn’t know what they’d do after that. But they’d figure it out together. 

He shut his eyes tight, listening closely to the footsteps as they drew nearer. Still quite a long while away, farther than the average person would be able to hear. Maybe it was mobian instinct, maybe it was the chaos flowing through his veins, or maybe it was just the fact he could recognize his Shadow’s movements anywhere. 

He got a direction, and took off running. 

He’d thought that maybe the forest would be hard to run in. After all, getting there the first time, he’d had to maneuver all these new obstacles while dragging two other people along after him. But he was surprised how good it felt. For the ground to be uneven, for all these new sounds to rush past his ears, for the wind to be real. For him to be racing alongside it. Despite the urgency already building within him, he gave himself a second to enjoy the feeling of his quills being pushed forwards, of the unexpected leaps he’d have to take whenever a rock or bush came out of nowhere, the ducks and slides when a branch was too low. 

This. This is what he’d wanted for so long. It wasn’t worth it, to trade everyone he knew, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t his now. 

While it was hard to keep track of the skating steps while he himself was running, he eventually caught them again as he got closer. He could tell now that his Shadow was sliding down a hollow loop, scratching his shoes against the bark. He was heading in the direction Sonic had run from, back to the facility. But the closer Sonic got to his destination, the less he was thinking about the giant metal prison, and everything it stood for. And the more his eyes were darting around, desperately searching for that flash of black-and-red that would mean everything was okay. 

He finally saw a figure slide to a stop atop a fallen tree. And all of the sudden, his feet planted firmly in the field, and the world around him completely stopped.

The other hedgehog was facing away from him, trying to get his bearings back after what must have been a quick turn. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to what was behind him, which was strange for him, but he had a small radio in his hands that he was fiddling with, clearly being the cause of his distraction. The trees around them were huge, towering, but even still, light filtered its way through the curtains of leaves, and the dapples of sunlight made his red stripes look like they were glowing. 

The dark figure seemed to figure out where he was going, as he turned slightly right and braced his body. He was preparing to run, to take off, to leave. 

For a moment, Sonic was scared he wouldn’t be able to speak. But seeing him move, the threat of him disappearing from his sight coursed adrenaline through his veins, and he let out a loud, desperate shout. 

“Shadow!”

Now it was Shadow’s turn to freeze.

Then his head snapped back, eyes wider than Sonic had ever seen them, locked on the blue hedgehog on the field beneath him. 

They were still several feet from each other, too far for Sonic to clearly see his face. But he could already see his ears laying back in shock, his unsteady back foot scrambling to get himself back to a steady position. The radio fell from his hands and clattered, forgotten, onto the mossy floor. Neither of them looked at it, or even noticed it land. 

It could’ve been a minute, it could’ve been an hour, where they just stared at each other in stunned silence. 

Shadow finally let out a whisper, barely audible under the wind and the distant, muffled alarms. 

“Sonic?” 

Just hearing his voice, hearing him say his name, some kind of life rushed back into Sonic that he hadn’t realized he was missing. His ears flicked, and he straightened himself, a grin breaking across his face. 

“I found you, faker.” 

{ao3} {tumblr}

[kataraavatara]

nesta only three years older than feyre…three kids in three years was kind of diabolical of papa archeron idk

[a-sketchy]

potatoes of indeterminate size

[bibewilderedandbuck]

Imagine Buck saying “i love you” first and for the first time Tommy feels behind. He feels like maybe they are moving too fast.

Then he has a talk with some of his team. They’re not AS close as the 118 but they put their life in each others hand’s on the regular and that counts for something.

Andy asks Tommy about last week, when Buck was complaining about his apartment being so far so they started talking about moving in together? Aubree mentions how much he jokes about buying a ring for his beau, and Tommy sits back because he does joke a lot about (he hasn't spoken to Evan directly about it but anytime the kid does something sweet he asks him his ring size). Lucy mentions the time they spend talking and texting, she calls it nauseating with a wink, but Tommy doesn't remember the last time he wanted another person in contact with him at all times and who returned the feeling tenfold.

And after all, with their job they could die any day. He sits in his kitchen and replays the moment Evan said it again and again: "I know I'm dragging you through milestones like a cat with a mouse, and I want to let you know that you don't have to say it back. But I love you, Tommy. You mean a lot to me and I'm so happy we met."

Nine months is the longest relationship Tommy has ever had. And he still wishes he could spend every waking second with Evan.

By the end of the night he's barging into Buck's apartment and sticking his tongue in the younger man's mouth. He stands back and pushes his chest up and smiles and says "I love you too, Evan."

Buck is laughing, he's smiling and kissing his boyfriend back and hugging him tight. He can feel Tommy's heart racing when he puts his hand to Tommy's chest. He expected it to take longer. He'd heard about all the ways Tommy had been hurt before. But in the end it only took a day

then they hear a flush and Eddie walks out of the bathroom. He's smiling because Buck's loft is Not Big and he might have heard every word. For just a moment, they all stand in silence not uncomfortable per say but definitely charged.

Then Eddie says "I love you too, bro." Buck lovingly rolls his eyes and Tommy is cracking up. If it were anyone else he'd probably feel embarrassed but Eddie has shared friendly declarations of love before and its not uncommon for the L word to be passed around a 118 dinner party like hors d'oeuvres.

[thestalwartheart]

Okay so this quote from Black Doves is so good I wish I’d written it:

“You have a warm heart and blood on your hands, and that’s not a good combination.”

But the brainrot is so real. A second after I heard it I went: “Fuck, that’s Q.”

Thinking about that time Ben Whishaw said Q was warmer than anyone would expect him to be. Thinking about him saying care and concern is at the core of Q and Bond’s relationship, despite all the aggravation. Thinking about him saying Q was just trying to find some sort of balance between home and work life.

This man has a real knack for playing morally grey characters who have a strong, beating heart.

[skyward-floored]

Oot really said “oh this kid isn’t old enough to defeat the Big Evil yet, lets put him to sleep until he’s 16/17! surely that’s old enough!”

[kaythefloppa]

"Go to hell" is basic. "I hope your favorite show that ended or was supposed to end naturally regardless of quality suddenly gets renewed for countless new seasons that soullessly milk it dry and sink the show's quality to unsalvageable levels whilst showing zero signs of ever putting the show to rest or letting it die like it should've " is smart. It's possible. It's terrifying. It has actually happened.

[poebrey]

I think what threw me off with the epilogue now that I’ve had time to digest it is that it felt so final for Michael. I’m so used to seeing everything through her eyes in real time as she lives her life as the protagonist that when we fast forwarded to the middle I guess it felt like skipping a few chapters of a book. I get why they did it, there may not be any opportunities to see her in the future so they wanted to take what they could get, but until then a part of me was in denial that the show was ending. It just felt like maybe they would pick up again next week and we would start all this over again

[taweretsdagger]

so. rewatching all juliet's episodes the other day affirmed for me how bad LOST is at pacing a 3 year long time period lol. there's a bunch of scenes establishing her and goodwin as a thing within..? weeks? maybe a few months? of her arrival on the island, as well as harper's knowledge of their affair and her warning about ben.

a big-ish turning point seems to come when she's been there for around six months, going by rachel being a few months away from giving birth. after that, it legit seems like nothing noteworthy happens until right before the plane crash, which is over two years later?? two years of her and goodwin fucking and everyone knows? and everyone knows about ben's crush on her too? are the others really just too wrapped up in jacob's love to care??

[weirfq1]

with all these gaston crackships/rarepairs that are coming out lately it would be so fucking funny if he had a flig with all the main characters (ambar, nina, simon... hell luna too if you want) and they all know it except matteo

[cuteniarose]

The consequences of my poor financial decisions are here!!