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wexhappyxfew · 2 months

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And then “Look at you! You're spilling coffee.” For Brady and Annie >:)

HI POET!!!!!!! thank you so much for sending in a prompt + incredibly sorry it is so SO late for a response!! my summer has been so incredibly busy and i've only just gotten to this now, so i truly hope you enjoy!!! <3 annie and brady are an absolute joy to write and i always love getting to play around in the areas of time we get to see them in - so this is in the early days of getting to know each other and - you guessed it - it involves coffee haha! THANK YOU AGAIN!!! (also hi and hello i am back after an absolutely chaotic af week)!!!!!! <3333

porcelain, silk and starch

(a/n): ANNIE X BRADY GIRLIES THIS IS FOR YOUUUU!!!! getting back into some 'early days' sorta stuff for these two that i felt were needed for their connection. just those early moments of first meetings and interactions that i wanted to work with a bit! and ofc a cameo from co-pilot francis who is my fav of favs fr! a queen in true form!!! i hope you all (and poet most of all - this was a great prompt THANK YOU) enjoy!!! :D

“Silver Bullets should’ve been put into mass production the day she made the run over Caen,” Francis said, pulling her cigarette from her lip and patting the edge of the wing, the early dawn rays of the sun tickling the edges of the metal, “flies like a fucking angel, I tell ya, Bradshaw.”

Annie looked up at the large berth of wingspan for the B-17 and smiled a bit; it was evident how much Francis cared about the plane, like it was this thing they were caring for day by day, somehow watching it grow. It seemed Francis was coming around - they were actually on a name-to-name basis rather than incredibly formal 'Lieutenant Bradshaw' and 'Lieutenant Montez' callings. It was actually kind of nice. Annie knew Francis still held her bearings about everything, but she was more receptive and open-minded than she had been a few days back.

“So, how’d you get wrapped up in all this?” Francis said turning to Annie, a slightly darkened look in her eyes, “Some stupid bet, couldn’t handle a joke from a sick fucko back home? I’ll do you one better, an old boyfriend who thinks he’s God’s greatest gift-“

"Joined the WAC," Annie said, rather unceremoniously - not like her mother had been pleased, so Annie was just used to the lackluster of it all because of that fact (no one had been excited for such a thing, for someone like her, from where she was from), "started ferrying planes - fuel reloads, supply drops. Seems they liked me in the higher ups. Now I'm here." Francis watched her for a moment, smoke lingering up from the butt of her cigarette. With their uniforms on, they both actually looked half-decent - no pilot gear and uniform looking mangled from a mission, no sweat, burnt pieces of hair, frozen eyebrows and bloodied cheeks. Just like normal people for once.

“You know, I like that for you,” Francis said, “I had some guy tell me I could never pilot a plane. Showed him up.” Annie smirked from behind her aviators at Francis - quite the character, she could hold her own and had no problem telling it how it was. Yeah, Annie was already sold, even if Francis wasn't sold on her.

“So. The WAC. Do tell.” Francis said, pointing at her.

“Well, I did translating for a good period of time before I was wrapped up in flying. Gotta say if the opportunity had been presented, I would've stuck with it.”

“Whatcha translating?”

“German, French…tried to get a handle on Russian. Still trying my best with that.”

“Damn, Bradshaw,” Francis said before pointing a finger at her, “what the hell did that have to do with flying?”

“They said we couldn’t do it.” Annie offered back, crossing her arms and shrugging, "That sorta stuff you listen to, even if you don't want to. And then you do, even if they think you can't."

"Birdie really would've loved you." Francis said, the first real genuine smile growing on her face as she crossed her arms, "Wanna see inside?"

Climbing up into the belly of the plane, the lingering silence hit her like bricks, the feeling inside the fort. What had happened here. What they all knew had happened her; what the women of Silver Bullets had experienced. What had Montez said to let them know their pilot was dead? That she had to take control of the plane and the body was in the front seat? What mind-fuck had they gone through to wrap their minds around that fact?

"Pretty isn't it?" Francis said from behind her, briefly patting the edge of one of the seats as they both moved towards the cockpit.

"She's beautiful." Annie said, adjusting herself in the left side of the cockpit, running her hands along the buttons and the wheel and the edges of the window, "Really, it's a beautiful plane."

Glancing back at Francis, she noticed the woman far-off it seemed, eyes glazed, staring somewhere out to the hazy horizon. Annie slowly brought her focus forward again - Birdie had died here. Right where Annie was sat. It was a wonder Francis could even walk up here again - Annie gave her a lot of credit.

"Well," Francis started, blowing breath from her lips, a quick smile darting onto her lips, "we'll have plenty of time to admire this bucket of bolts in the coming days, for now…we oughta get ourselves to the dining hall. Breakfast. Ain't they say it's the most important meal of the day?"

Francis' voiced trailed off somewhere between her talking about breakfast and saying how she thought the most important meal of the day was actually dessert. Annie stood there for a moment, in the middle of the plane, lingering in the stillness, the plane that had launched that crew up into the sky and came back down without a pilot. Who still stood tall and strong, right here, right now.

Annie tried to clear her mind. She hopped out of the plane, landing beside Francis, rather gracefully, and looked up at the co-pilot in the morning sun, who was grinning like a goose at her.

"How many missions you been on?" Annie asked Francis, genuinely curious. She was trying to connect the dots from the incident to now. Had they been up in the plane after what had happened? With a new replacement that hadn't made the cut? How many had Birdie been on?

"Only two." Francis said with a slightly constrained look, before seeming to shrug it off as they made way towards the dining hall, "They wouldn't allow us to go with any of the replacements until we did a practice run or two. As you can see, those didn't go too well." Annie glanced at Francis and evidently saw the stress running rampage through her. It was evident in her face, in the way she spoke - she wanted something to work, she wanted to get in the sky again, she needed something to go right for the first time.

"If I get the position. Officially, that is," Annie started, looking up at Francis, "I intend to keep Silver Bullets as one of the best B-17s in the air. With the crew we've got, the co-pilot," Francis smiled, "I don't doubt that. Birdie had the crew for a reason." Francis watched her, a bit of sentimental air wafting through them as Francis reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

"You're a good one, Bradshaw," Francis said and Annie quirked out a smile, "c'mon."

Entering the dining hall - Annie realized quickly it was only for officers and high-ranking officials when she saw the likes of Major Cleven and Major Egan at a table together, huddled over some coffee alongside Kidd, Crank and DeMarco.

"Here we go." Francis said, leading Annie towards the center strip of table, covered in a white tablecloth, filled with all sorts of baskets of goods, utensils, coffee and mugs, "Usually, you can just get it served to you. But. Figured you'd want to see the spread, huh?" Annie's eyes widened at the assortment of things as Francis gently gave her shoulder a tap.

"I'll get us a table, get your fill, I'll get the food." Francis said before walking off, giving a wave to a few, fellow officers down a few rows of tables, bee-lining towards the food line.

Annie stood quietly for a moment, her eyes running over the length of the table in slight amusement and wonder. Growing up, she never had the sort of luxury as much as simple things like sugar or cream - even in coffee. Coffee was usually black, and a little watered down (it saved them from having to buy so many coffee grounds, you know?), and usually it was bitter. But you washed it down because it was what you had.

Now - there was sugar, cream, honey, biscuits for dipping, actual cloth napkins, a little spoon just for stirring! Gently, she touched the white tablecloth, the soft texture something so delicate and foreign to her in ways someone shouldn't have to think of.

Tablecloths were rough, scratchy and torn where she came from.

Here - they were soft, cream and stitched.

Annie retracted her hand and instead focused on the coffee.

Coffee.

Sometimes all she wanted day in and day out was coffee.

Reaching forward, she picked up a mug and cradled it in her hands - it was still warm, like it had just been freshly cleaned, straight from the hot water.

Annie had remembered feeling out of place before - plenty of times had she done things in her life where being the odd one out was normal for her. But now - even with just beautiful tablecloths and hot coffee mugs - she felt like being the odd one out was something she had to address. Right now.

Glancing around, officers and officials at the tables weren't looking at her (of course, they wouldn't be, why would they, this is normal for them), but for her, being in a place like this? With things like this? Annie set the mug down and then looked at the pot of steaming coffee. She debated. Did she need the cup of coffee?

"Hey," a voice said from somewhere to her left, causing her to turn away from the coffee pot and towards the voice, finding Lieutenant John Brady there, a smile on his face, as he slowly removed his crusher cap, "Bradshaw, right? New pilot for Silver Bullets?" A smile popped onto Annie's face as she suddenly took in that it was that pilot - from a day or two back - John Brady.

A part of her had been wondering when she'd see him again or even just around. He'd been nice, hospitable, and had a funny sense of humor she could get behind. People like that you wanted in your back pocket. Even if all she knew was his name and that he had a nice face.

"Yes. Annie Bradshaw." she said, unable to help her ever-present mannerisms and held out her hand (as if they hadn't met a few days ago and they'd all but tag-teamed Major Egan), "….uh, Brady?" He grinned - she knew it was him too, she couldn't forget a face like that, but she wanted to test the waters. Give a bit of it back.

"Brady. John Brady." he said, reaching forward to shake her hand, smile growing on his own face, "How's it been going? Hopefully Egan wasn't bearing too hard after your introduction a few days ago." Annie laughed - almost a bit nervously and awkwardly - trying to make impressions was something she was never great with, but things usually weighed in her favor at the end of the day.

"No, no, it was fine, really," Annie said, as she slowly dropped his hand, a slight tinge of warmth pooled in her stomach at the thought of his hand again - and the fact that was the second time she had even touched his hand, "Major Egan is definitely quite the character."

"That he is." Brady said with a laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets, nodding to her aviators in her front pocket, "Busy day?"

"Francis' showed me Silver Bullets," Annie said with a nod and a smile, "she's a beautiful plane." Brady smiled at her and then glanced over Annie's shoulder at Francis, before readjusting his eyes on her.

"That crew's really glad you're here," Brady said, face falling slightly, "after what happened…." Annie nodded to fill in the gapping hole of words.

"I'm giving them my all. After everything." Annie said quietly and Brady nodded, watching her, something in his lingering gaze a comfort in a way she would never make out, "Well, don't let me be in your way-"

"No, no not at all," Brady said quickly with a nod, "coffee drinker?"

"Yeah," she said, reaching up to run her hand along her hot collar a bit - almost like she couldn't get her mind in gear properly, "never did have much of any of these sorts of fixings back home, so….to say the least, I'm pretty stoked to try it out." She looked back to Brady who was watching her with a quiet look on his face, a soft grin riding his cheeks as he reached forward and took his own mug.

"You said you were from Mankato? Minnesota?" he asked her as she reached forward and picked up the pot of coffee and began pouring.

"Yeah," she said, turning to look at him as she poured, "didn't have a whole lot, but…it was home." There was a twinge of pain to that word. Home. Her mind blanked for a moment, before she was hearing a voice in her ear and her hand was burning.

"Look at you! You're spilling coffee. Here, here-" Annie blinked and turned her eyes and found Brady slowly removing the coffee pot from her grasp, the mug overflowing with hot coffee there on the starch table clothes, stained with dark puddles of drying liquid, her heart pounding. She watched frozen as Brady grabbed some napkins to dab at it, before looking to her gaze again.

"You okay there?" he asked her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Didn't mean to batter you with questions, I swear my folks just raised me like that, questions and all-

""No." Annie said quickly, shaking her head and looking at her hand stained with hot coffee and gave a nervous smile, cheeks turning a bit pink, "I got….distracted. About home and this place. It's…it's all good. Sorry. About the coffee. And now the damn table cloths." Brady chuckled and took his hand off her shoulder and grabbed the empty mug and poured the coffee to a reasonable amount before handing it to her.

"Don't you worry, Little Birdie," he said with a smile, "it's a big place here. Lots to look at, get distracted by. Being so far from home anyway, that is. I'll let the cooks know-"

"Little Birdie?" she said, interrupting his train of thought. Brady grinned.

"You're a lot like Birdie. Captain Faulkner. You remind me of her, ya know? So - Little Birdie." he said with a smile, "Much better than Egan calling you No Name, too." Annie let out a laugh and nodded.

"Yeah, way better." she said and Brady smiled. For a moment, they stared at each other before Annie cleared her throat and looked at the coffee cup and back up at him.

"I'll be-"

"Your hand okay-" The two looked at each other before letting out a few nervous laughs.

"You first." Annie said, "Rank does its duties."

"We're both Lieutenants, Bradshaw."

"You're 1st. I'm 2nd." she said with a smile, "So?" Brady smirked, before the corner of his eyes and lips softened.

"Your hand okay? The coffee was pretty hot." he said softly and she nodded.

"Fine." she said, "Had cuts and bruises worse than this. Climbed trees as a kid." Brady watched her, brow peaked in interest. She smirked. "Also fell out of a lot of trees, too, so….all good." Brady let out a chuckle at her words, watching expectantly as she cleared her throat.

"And yes…..I was just going to be going. Don't want to hold you up." she said and then looked up at him. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, of course," Brady said, "probably flying club, right?" Annie raised a brow.

"Flying club?" She really was quite clueless on more than she thought.

"Drinks, dancing, music - get the tension out of your shoulders sorta thing." he said, another grin growing, "So, I'll probably see ya tonight?"

"Right." Annie said with a smile, holding the mug close to her, forgetting about cream or sugar, "Sounds good to me. I'll see you around. Thanks. Sorry again." And with that, she was turning away, slightly mortified at her clear inability to pour coffee efficiently. She hurried towards Francis at a table with their food, slamming her body and the mug of coffee down, meeting Francis' slightly annoyed gaze at the rough presence announced.

"You okay?" Francis asked her, eyeing the coffee and Annie's face again, "You look a little flustered. Hey, you drink black coffee?" Annie looked between the coffee and Francis and then sighed again.

"I meant to grab…." Annie looked over her shoulder and watched as Brady poured some cream into his own coffee cup - the one she had previously overflowed, to her own mortifying realization - and was now wandering away with, sipping it ever so gently, settling into a spot beside DeMarco. A pair of fingers snapped in front of her face and she turned quickly to look at Francis.

"Grab what? The LT's attention or a donut?" Francis said, before chuckling at Annie's slightly flustered expression and chuckled, "I'm just kidding you, c'mon, let's eat up. I think we're doing a practice run, just us girls - maybe with Just-A-Snappin', too." Francis bit into a piece of toast, "Harding wants to see us in the air. 'Longside another crew."

"Alright." Annie said with a nod, "We can make that happen." Francis smiled.

"Good," Francis said, "now, eat up. Don't need my pilot going hungry in the cockpit. Might have to feed you some of Margie's crushed up peanuts she's always carrying around-"

"Oh God." Annie murmured, "Bessie warned me….briefly…"

"Yeah, they're a goddamn curse on that thing, but she swears on it. Superstitious that one is." Annie chuckled at Francis' words and they continued to eat and discuss their day. Annie couldn't help but think of it all though - porcelain, silk and starch.

Everything and all things.

When you came from nothing, things like that were practically gold.

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shadamyheadcanons · 2 years

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I love silver as the son of shadamy (he reminds me of trunks) let's be honest, if silver was 20 years old and not 200, we would all know that he is the son of shadamy, silver is a sweetheart like amy, they make you want to take care of them

Yeah. It’s been straight-up stated by the developers that he’s modeled after Trunks.

To be honest, though, I’m glad we have the 200-year gap. I think it’d be harder to make the case for him being an immediate descendant of the two of them. Silver just doesn’t have any of Amy’s physical attributes. Shadow lines up, but Silver doesn’t have Amy’s pink fur, green eyes, etc. I did make a case for them potentially having the same “hairline” because of how their quills fall in this headcanon, but that alone is a stretch. Rouge has literally nothing in common with Silver imo, but people would probably push her as being Silver’s mother far more often if he were Shadow’s direct son just based on her fur color alone.

With a few generations of breathing room, though? It’s much easier to make an argument for Shadamy. Things like Silver’s fur and eye color are much easier to explain if genes from other sources were added along the way. It’s believable that Amy’s visible traits would disappear; she’s the only character I know of with pink fur, so I’m willing to bet it’s a recessive trait. It also makes more sense that he wouldn’t immediately know Shadow and Amy are his ancestors if they’re farther up the line. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from focusing so much on two characters who barely interact, it’s that there’s actually more to work with when there’s an absence of information. A story like Shellshock is far more convincing when we know nothing about Silver and Amy’s parentage. There’s a ton of wiggle room to work with.

In terms of personality, I think you’re exactly right. It’s especially fun because despite their cute, sweet demeanors, they’re always the first to charge into battle. They can’t help it. He has her strong sense of justice AND steadfast idealism. It’s easy to imagine Shadow stepping in to protect Amy when she gets out of her depth, and it’s just as easy to picture Blaze doing the same for Silver.

^ Like this. [Source]

The more I think about it, the more I see parallels between Shadamy and Silvaze. Of course Amy’s great-great-grandson would go for a serious, intense introvert with a soft spot. It runs in the family, lol.

Also...I recently found out Shadow can do this:

[Source]

Look familiar? It should.

[Source]

Before anyone gets too excited, Shadow has only done this ONCE in canon as far as I know, and it was in Sonic Riders, no less. Silver was created early in Sonic 06’s development, which began in 2005. Riders came out after that point in early 2006, meaning they likely gave Shadow psychokinesis after it was already established as Silver’s signature move.

Does this mean anything...? :O

Lol, no. Definitely not. I’ll shamelessly cherry-pick all day in the name of shadamy, but even I can’t really justify doing anything with this. It’s too blatantly obvious yet specific to make a headcanon about it. I just like to imagine one Dadow-believer made this one singular animation just to be a troll. Just thought I’d share, lol.

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