#before major character death

[un-pearable]

i think ninjago fans need to rewatch s3e7 every once in a while. to keep them humble and remind them of the wonders of an early 2010s lego that didn’t give a shit

[try-set-me-on-fire]

brick BRICK please I AM ON MY KNEES i just saw the bucktommy MCD fic aldhslhdkalkabsk i know i KNOW you said you don’t have the time or purview to write it, but if you would find it within your heart to further read us into shreds in any way, shape, or form, i’d be eternally grateful

(only if you would like to, of course, and quite honestly, i’m not sure i’d be able to survive another drabble, let alone a fully fledged fic)

Alright okay I’m thinking about it too here’s a tiny thing mwah mwah

“It’s his birthday,” Buck says eventually, when the mug has stopped steaming entirely. It almost startles Eddie, the sudden sound in a quiet that felt so final. He turns off the sink, sets down the last of the dishes, joins Buck at the table. Buck’s thumb caresses up and down the side of the mug. When Eddie picks up his own, it's skin-warm. “I liked to… plan things, I like to be… organized.” A rueful smile that stops miles short of his eyes. “You’ve probably noticed at work. I’ve been told I can be a monster with a clipboard in hand.” His voice is steady enough that Eddie is pretty sure Tommy isn’t the one who ever did the telling. “And he was going to be 45 and feeling some kind of way about that so… So I, uh, had it planned already. Before- uh- b-before.”

Tommy Kinard has been dead for seven months. Eddie’s not sure he’s ever put that much forethought into anything. He enlisted after an afternoon chatting at a recruitment booth. He applied to the fire academy on impulse after he saw an ad online. “What were you…”

Buck sighs. “Camping. Up north. Rented one of those, you know, cute vintage RVs. We were going to stop a few places. Had the vacation time cleared and ready to go.” He grimaces, shrugs, his eyes wet again. “I never… canceled any of it. I probably could have got some refunds, but I just… it was too- I- I just couldn’t.” He coughs something adjacent to a laugh. “The… I picked mint green, like the toaster he- got it from his aunt, I think. Uh. For the RV. It’s probably sitting in a lot somewhere right now waiting for us.”

“Buck, I…” Eddie wants to reach out so bad his hand moves on its own accord, clumsy, catching on his mug and clattering the ceramic against the wood of the table. “If you wanted company you could have told me why, but also you- you didn’t have to come here. I-I’m sorry. I know how hard it can be to… to be around people, to talk to anybody when you’re feeling like… and special occasions just make it worse.”

Buck- laughs. A few soft snorts, through his nose, smile hitting a little closer to clear blue. “That’s the thing, Eddie. That’s the… I miss him like this every day. I wake up and- and there’s a moment before I roll over where I think- hope- what if when I turn he’ll be there smiling at me? I-I-I miss his smile so bad, I- I have pictures, t-there’s even video- our wedding- b-but- but it’s not the same-” He gasps, and his shoulders turn in again, all of him crumpling towards a center line as he covers his face with one hand, the other white knuckled around his mug. “Sorry. S-sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s okay, Buck.” Eddie’s hand is still hovering over the table, he’d never done anything with it after his failed reach. Close the gap. Just close the gap. He doesn’t.

Buck wipes his eyes, clears his throat, straightens up again. “Sorry. It’s… it’s just a day. They’re all- they’re all going to be like this. He’s not going to be in any of them. So I just have to- I’m just going to keep going.” Another smile, still wet and wretched but genuine anyways. “Besides, I told Chris I’d be here to help. Not a promise I’m interested in breaking.”

Eddie nods, biting his tongue against the sting in his own eyes that he’s not even entirely sure the cause of. “Well, thank god. I flunked freshman bio.”

Tea sloshes over Buck’s hand with how hard his laugh rattles through him. Eddie jumps up to get a towel, and when he goes to hand it over he gets caught frozen for a moment by Buck’s amused eye contact. “Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“I had a C+ average.”

Eddie’s not sure how they manage not to spill the rest of the mug in the outburst that follows, but it stays stubbornly upright as their laughter bounces around the kitchen cabinets, mixing together, filling the room. When Buck smiles up at him again it looks just a little easier, and Eddie thinks- he thinks he’d do a lot to make Buck’s life easy. He shakes out the towel and cleans up the tea.

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

Warning: Depictions of character death

[Image Description: A 4 panel colored Legend of Zelda AU comic  “Linked Spirit”. Panel 1: The Darknut's head is turned to the viewer, one eye and a splash of the dark purple ooze pouring out of the visor space. "HA ha ha I see you now" it says. Panel 2: Hero's Spirit, appearing as breath of the wild Link, looks disturbed and wide eyed. "Malice." Panel 3: The background turns black, and Hero, back in their green tunic, looks up at the Malice's giant yellow eye looming over them. "Killing the Hero again and again clearly doesn't work." It says "You must be destroyed" ('destroyed' is italic and bold). Panel 4: A glowing teal wheel with clipped scenes in each of in the 6 segments, each Link in the segments are colored in the same tunic colors as when Hero is shapeshifted as them. Hero's Spirit is in the center, curled up and clutching their hair. Their face looks fractured and generally featureless. The 1st segment features a hand reaching toward a blue ocarina, with Beast Ganon's hoof in front of it. 2nd segment Rinku is seen from behind a hand hovering over a headstone with the name "Link" in Hylian on it. 3rd Rinku sinking in water, indicated by small bubbles. 4th: Engineer sprawled on the ground, the pan flute in one hand, the Spirit of Healing hovering over him. Maladus's clawed paw beyond him. 5th: Hope hovering over his own body as a spirit 6th: Breath of the Wild Zelda (Bloom) holding onto Glider like within the Final Memory in botw. Under this segment, a ribbon like line turns into a glowing droplet. End ID]

masterpost

smh time travel makes the order of events so confusing sometimes huh?

First- Previous (30) - 31^ - Next (32)

[quality-on-a-patch-of-awesome]

So I might have an idea

Price is immortal. The other guys reincarnate. So Price has been alive for thousands of years and lived countless lifetimes (he started counting at first, but gave up after a hundred times of moving countries when people started noticing that he wasn't aging). And then the rest of the boys (I literally only know Ghost and Soap and Gaz so im sticking with them), he's met them so many times before. Sometimes, it's all three of them at once. Sometimes, just one or two of them, the other(s) having already died by the time they manage to find their way to each other. There's probably even been times when he lives an entire lifetime without meeting any of them. He probably gets the biggest headache when it's just Soap and Gaz.

And Soap and Ghost?

Price has watched them fall in love in so many lifetimes, in so many countries, in so many ways, but every time they first meet and they jump straight to antagonistic, he refuses to tell them what's coming. Because it happens every time. They fall in love every time. And then they die. They always die. He watches them lose each other and how it breaks them, even if he learns after a while that they're always going to come back. Maybe he'd give them more time together if they knew or maybe it'd make things worse. It won't matter either way because they'll love and they'll hurt and they'll die and do the whole damn thing over again in another 30 years or however long it is this time.

Maybe Price told them all what was happening one time. And they still died anyway. And the next time they all found their way to each other, no one else remembered and he didn't want to do that again.

And then Gaz.

Gaz, who Price has been in love with for centuries, maybe even millennia. Gaz, who he's seen die a thousand deaths. Who he's held as he died more times than he cares for. Who he's seen not recognise him in too many lifetimes. Who he's lost and gotten back and lost again. He knew, seeing Gaz die for the first time, that he couldn't love him and lose him and be able to stand having Gaz not recognise him the next time they see each other. So he keeps as much distance as he can.

Until their last lifetime.

Price couldn't stand not being with Gaz for a second longer. They had a few good years together. They were happy. Until it ended the same way it always does. Gaz died all over again. Bloodier than it had been in a long time- war will do that to you- and wrapped in Price's arms and trying desperately to hold on, for all the good it did.

And then Gaz was gone.

Again.

Until now.

Gaz wanders into the 141 and Price has no idea how he's supposed to cope.

[secretnameu9]

Illusion

“Hi, Tails! It’s just me Amy again! If you get this could give me a call back!”

“Tails, hi It’s me Amy again…uhm could you give me a call back when you can? I’m starting to get a bit worried. Thanks!”

…

“I haven’t heard from either of them in quite a while, I’m worried. Have you heard from either one?”

“No I have not.”

“Sometimes…Sonic can be a bit harder to get a hold of, but Tails? I…I…”

=========

“Smile!”

Click

A photo revealing two individuals standing close to each-other, trying their best to pose appears on an electronic screen. Miles “Tails” Prower and Sonic the Hedgehog were the ones who inhabited that photo. The background easily revealing that this photo was taken in Tails’ workshop.

After being sure the device had captured the photo the two broke away from each-other giving each a bit of distance between the other.

Tails stared at the screen for a moment, his face neutral and observant before that said face started to rapidly turn into a very pleased smile. Seemingly very happy with his handywork.

“Sooo? How’d it turn out?” Sonic questions, allowing his face to break out into a grin upon seeing his little bro’s face break out into a smile.

“Awesome! I just upgraded the Miles Electric’s camera the other day and this…is great!” Tails starts, his iconic two tails wagging behind him as he observes the photograph his device just captured. “I’m going get this one printed out and framed later. I like how it turned out” the fox continues seemingly very pleased with the outcome of it all. Tails turns the screen off for the device before laying it off to the side in order to focus on Sonic for the time being.

Sonic had been out and about, adventuring for the past several days, so the two haven’t seen each other in a decent amount of time. So when Sonic so happened to show up and not too long after Tails upgraded several aspects of the Miles Electric, he figured why not get a photo? It’s been a long time since he got a picture of himself and Sonic anyways.

“Well, I’m glad you like it so much, little buddy” Sonic starts shooting the kit a little thumbs up in approval. Just simply glad that his little bro is glad. “So now, that we went through the photoshoot and all, we still doing chilidogs? I’m starvvving” Sonic whines, as if he had not ate all day.

A chuckle emanates from Tails as he can’t help but roll his eyes a bit from Sonic’s slightly overdramatic show of how hungry he was. The fox kit knowing full well Sonic ate earlier that day in particular. So he wasn’t THAT hungry. Yet, it was around lunch-time and honestly chili-dogs didn’t so too bad at all. Actually chilidogs sounded great, they’re always better when Sonic’s around.

“Yep, we’re having ourselves some chilidogs! I specifically stocked up…had a feeling you’d be coming by soon.” Tails comments as he begins to walk through the house, making his way to the kitchen.

Upon reaching the said kitchen Tails goes ahead begins to get everything ready, pot, pan, cooking oil, turn on the stove, can of chili, and a package of Sonic Approved franks. A process the young fox is at this point in his incredibly short life very used to. The sheer number of repeats of this procedure likely being in the hundreds.

“So, whatcha been up to while I’ve been going around?” Sonic asks. Already knowing the answer of the general question. He knows full well Tails had been tinkering about in his workshop. Working on one of his 2bajillion projects he has going on at any given moment. But the hedgehog hoped to maybe here about some of the things the Fox had been working on.

“Lately I’ve been tinkering around with the Miles Electric and the Tornado recently. I upgraded the specs of the Miles Electric, so now it has significantly more memory space and processing power. I also enhanced the camera. I got the tornado’s booster enhanced as well! According to my calculations it should give at least a 20% speed boost!” tails comments. Seemingly very happy to talk about his projects with his best friend. Tails didn’t always get to talk about all the things he works on, so when he gets the chance it’s always a pleasure to speak about them.

“I almost forgot how compact everything in the Miles electric was! It was a fun little challenge to get everything to fit just right” Tails adds. The small fox comments on a couple of other things he worked on as well, like optimizing the houses refrigerator, it now only needing 75% of the power it originally needed to run. Briefly mentioning how he managed to hack into Eggman’s network, but not getting super into the details of what he was snooping around there for. Just lots of things the fox found fun to do.

“Well- sounds like you’ve been busy! I’m happy to hear my little buddy is able to keep doing the things he enjoys” Sonic chirps in. Very content and happy his little bro is able to keep doing his passion. “You’ve been getting the proper amount of sleep though, right?” Sonic questions. Hoping that his little bro might have had a change of heart and started to prioritize his sleep a bit more. That kid…he got so into his projects sometimes he’d just forget to sleep entirely.

Sonic didn’t get all that much of a response out of the kit. Tails simply humming to himself seemingly ignoring the question. Sonic knew full well Tails heard him. He was just dodging the question.

“Tails…” Sonic shakes his head at the youngers response or lack their of. When they were younger, Sonic would always try and help get Tails to sleep. He was rather successful in that endeavor, but as Tails grew older and started to pick up new things and the two of them branched out to do their own things, Tails sleeping issues have grown worse over the years. That’ll have to be a topic he talks to his best friend about at a later time.

Not too long after the cooking was completed, Tails bringing a plate of chilidogs to the dinner table. One plate for himself to boot. At this point Tails had figured out on average how many chilidogs each of the brother’s ate. His success rate at getting the perfect amount for each at this point was around 95%, but he always made one extra for himself…just in-case. It was usually too much for himself, but if Sonic wanted an extra he could have it and if he couldn’t eat it, Sonic would happily take it. It all worked out in the end.

The two indulged in the delicious meal. They both are quiet while they ate, focusing more on eating than talking. They didn’t want their food to go cold after all! Plus, honestly they were both a bit hungrier than they both actually thought they were. It was nice to have company to eat with, however. Always made for a good mood.

The seconds on the clock kept moving forward until the two finished their meal together, Sonic picking up and doing the dishes, lighting quick of course! Figuring it was the least he could do since Tails was kind enough to cook him up something warm to eat.

The two took some time to hang out, they played some video games together, watched one of the their movies, and just in general took the time to enjoy each others presence. Being sure to make the most of the time they spent together. At the end of the day, both Sonic and Tails truly cared for each other. So it was quite obvious that the two just liked to do things together.

In due time the ever present star that gave light and life to Mobius began to make it’s descent to the other side of the world. Things were starting to die down. The two had their dinner and more than likely were going to call it a night, but something had been on Tails’ mind for a while. It was not something he couldn’t just simply let fly, it was important.

Tails made his way downstairs, from his workshop a bit relieved seeing that Sonic was still awake, sprawled out on the couch. Seeming to be reading a book of some form. The hedgehog’s ear flicking upon hearing the fox making his way down the stairs. Sonic’s attention mainly remained on the book, until he was certain Tails’ was wanting his attention specifically. Which that became evident rather quickly when the fox came over to the couch, Sonic quick to pick a spot in his book that he could remember to pick up on later on down the line.

“What’s up, little bro?” Sonic questions. Now giving his full attention to the little fox that now stood in-front of him. The small foxes luxurious tails swaying behind him from side to side as he awaited to get his older brother’s attention.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Tails asks. His face remaining rather neutral his voice a bit unsure, he didn’t want to bother Sonic, but this was something that needed to be talked about. “I’ll make it quick, so you can get back to reading.” He adds quickly.  

Sonic removes his legs from the couch, patting right next to himself. A signal to his best friend that he’s more than welcome to take a seat. “Sure thing. What’s on that cunning fox brain of yours?”

Tails takes a seat right next to Sonic, looking forward staring at the television straight ahead not making eye contact with Sonic just yet, trying to figure out the best way to go about communicating this. It wasn’t that it was hard, but it was Tails trying to make sure Sonic takes this 100% seriously.

“Do you remember earlier, when I said I hacked into Eggman’s network?” Tails references back to a small passing statement he made earlier when both Sonic and himself were catching up. At the time Tails didn’t bring it up as it just wasn’t the right moment, but now, now was the right time.

“I think I do remember you mentioning it earlier. Why? What’s up?” Sonic questions, cocking an eye brow. Wondering what Tails managed to dig up.

“Uhm…well…” Tails starts, trying to figure out the best way to talk about this, before sighing and figuring it was time to just drop it and let spill it. “Looks like Eggman has the Phantom Ruby again. Somehow.”

There was a light pause between the two, before Tails continued “I checked the dates of the documentation, to make sure I wasn’t getting into old details. All of it is new, he’s doing testing in a new base…I think it’s something we’re going to have to look into. Quickly.”

“Quickly? Do you know who you’re talking to? We’ll have that whole situation sorted out before Eggman even knows what hit him!” Sonic says, his voice oozing with confidence. No matter what scheme Eggface comes up with, Sonic always stops him. This time it won’t be any different.

A smile was quick to break on Tails’ face. At the end of the day, he knew things were going to be fine. He knows he and Sonic take care of Eggman on a regular basis, this isn’t going to be any different. But the phantom ruby…”Yeah…you’re right. I just-you know how much trouble it caused last time around, it’s dangerous you know that. We need to be careful.” Tails mentions as he turns to Sonic, crossing his legs so he can fully sit on the couch.

“It’s okay, we got this. How about this, we go tomorrow, we’ll go to Eggman’s base wreck his little scheme before it gets going, and we’ll be back by evening and we’ll have ourselves a second serving of chilidogs? Deal?” Sonic says. Not seeming too worried all things considered. This won’t be the first time he’s had a tough battle with egghead after all.

“I’m serious Sonic, we got to be careful. We don’t-“ Tails cuts himself off as a absolutely massive, yet incredibly adorable yawn escapes. His lack of sleep finally seeming to catch-up to his body.

“Somebodies tired, now aren’t they?” Sonic grins. “Looks like somebody has to finally get to bed at a reasonable hour.” Sonic looks at his wrist at his fake watch that he’s not wearing. “Go ahead, get yourself some rest kiddo, wanna make sure that brain is well rested for the butt kicking we’re gonna give eggface tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. All right. Fine.” Tails gets up, wiping away a tear, his very aggressive yawn causing his eyes to water a bit. “I already have the coordinates to the base. So we’ll get that figured out tomorrow. Goodnight, Sonic.” Tails leaves off as he begins to make his way to his bed room. Another yawn escaping  on his way back. “Goodnight, Tails!” Sonic wishes to his little brother. Now having the whole room himself.

“The phantom ruby…?” Sonic murmurs to himself. “But how?”

=========

This was a bad idea, this was a really bad idea. Tails internally thinks to himself, trying to get through corridor after corridor. He knew they needed prep time, he knew they should have called for back-up. This was just all bad. Nearly every worst case scenario has arrived.

As promised both Tails and Sonic did make their way to Eggman’s new base. Tails had brought some extra fire power, bringing his newly upgraded arm blaster. In the back of his mind he hoped that maybe this wouldn’t be so hard, since they were striking so early, but hope…is not a very scientific word. Hope doesn’t account for things going wrong and hope doesn’t rewrite history.

The operation itself didn’t go too bad at first. If anything, by all accounts it seemed this would just be a quick, enter base, wreck the plans, go home, and not have to worry about it after a while. But, this was the Phantom Ruby being talked about here.

Practically upon a false sense of security setting in, Sonic and Tails were both separated. It began to become more difficult to determine what was real and what was fake. So it wasn’t much surprise that, that were to have happened. Luckily Tails accounted for this and had himself and Sonic bring their communication devices. Unluckily there seemed to be a rather large amount of interference when attempting to communicate. So long distance communication was not much of an option.

“We’ll have to wait to regroup.” Tails murmurs to himself as he keeps going forward. He knew the layout of this base, it wasn’t very convoluted compared to some of Eggman’s previous designs, but something was off. He couldn’t figure out where point a was or point b. Which was strange because he did specifically take the time to remember the layout.

Tails made sure to put his arm blaster to good use. There was badniks loitered through the building as he went on. They didn’t really stand much of a chance against the upgraded weapon, he thanked his past self for doing those upgrades. There numbers weren’t impressive at first, but over time they seemed to begin growing. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was getting closer to important details of the base or…was this all in his mind?

Then suddenly there were only occasional amounts of the robots. Just one. Or maybe two at most. Just scattered about. Strange. None of this was making any logical sense. The young fox turned around to see the path behind him. It seemed like the way he just came, nothing out of the ordinary.

Forward. Keep going forward and don’t look back. You’ll run into Sonic that way, right?

So Tails kept going forward, he took care of whatever robots that remained in his path.

Tails was getting into a rhythm, see robot shoot. See robot shoot. See robot shoot. See robo-

Wait…wait why did that robot just scream out in pain? Why is that robot screaming out in agony? Why does that voice sound so familiar…oh no…

“No…no, no” Tails closed his eyes and shook his head violently. Trying to make these illusions stop for just a moment. He should have known better he was just seeing things this whole time. But when he opened his eyes, his heart dropped. The fox dropped his weapon to the floor as he stepped forward.

“Sonic…SONIC!” Tails ran forward kneeling down before his brother, the hedgehog clutching the wound know inhabiting his chest. “Sonic, oh my- chaos…I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-“ Tails was panicking. He just shot his own brother, he just blasted his own family.

“Gotta say…you’re a killer shot, little bro, heh…” Sonic manages. His body doing it’s best to focus mostly on surviving and less on talking.

“Sonic, I’m gonna get you out of here, please just hold on, let me…I just need to find a way to…I just-“ Tails looks around trying to find anything to help in this situation. Something to temporarily, yet useless dress the wound. Something to use as a support to help carry his injured best friend out of this cursed base. Anything. But in his state of panic, he didn’t notice that Sonic had reached out to him. He did notice when a hand gently cuffed around the side of his head.

Tails turned to look at Sonic. And Sonic looked at Tails, staring into his sky blue eyes…eyes that were now stained with tears, worry, and panic.

Sonic took his hand and moved it to where Tails ear was and cupped his hand, rubbing behind the kit’s ears. Tails wasn’t sure if Sonic was just so out of it right now that he didn’t know what he was doing or if the hedgehog was just trying to show his affection at such a dangerous moment. No…Sonic didn’t think he was dying, right? Sonic’s not going to die…he can’t die.

“Come-on Sonic, help-help me apply pressure to your wound, please…I just need to buy sometime so I can figure-figure…figure-“ Tails hiccups trying his best to finish his statement.

“Tails buddy…” Sonic reaches and gingerly holds one of Tails’ arms with one of his free hands. Using his other to help Tails apply pressure to the wound. Despite how futile it seemed. Both of their hands covered in red. “Tails look at me.”

Tails looks at Sonic, directly into his eyes. Staring into those ever green emerald eyes, that he always looked up to. Those eyes that always brought hope and light to any situation they were in. Those some eyes that the universe seemed so headstrong to take away from him.

“Tails…”

“Tails, I love you, little bro. More than you’d ever know…” Sonic coughs a bit, his voice growing weaker, his body feeling lighter by the minute.

“Can you promise me something?” Sonic asks. Tails quickly nods. “Anything, Sonic. What is it?”

“Promise to take care of yourself…live your best life, be free. I know it’s going to be hard for you bud, but-“ cough “but, do it for me will you?”

Tails swallows a lump that had been in his throat since the moment this went down. He only now noticed how little he himself was breathing. The fox shook his head a bit “Don’t, don’t be saying stuff like that. You’re going to be here. This…” Tails inhales deeply “But I promise, just please…hang in there just a little longer.”

“Thanks, little bro. I knew…I could…count on you. I lov u” Sonic smiles. His breaths growing shorter and shorter. Time was running out. Quickly.

“I love you, too Sonic.” Tails says quickly. The small fox looking around again to see anything that would help them out, but there was nothing. Just empty corridor. Why…just why.

When Tails turned around, he could feel whatever spirit was left in his soul vanish. Sonic’s eyes were open still, yet they were so empty. Like there was nothing there.

“Sonic?” Tails questions panic in his voice. “Sonic?!” Tails releases his hands from the wound they were covering. The small fox shaking his big brother, lightly at first praying it would get some form of response. He quickly moved his hands to the hedgehogs wrist. Pulse? No…was he…breathing? Tails looked to see just any form of movement. Was Sonic breathing? No…he was not.

The fox moved his hands back to Sonic’s shoulders “SONIC?! PLEASE! WAKE UP!” he shook Sonic violently. Maybe just maybe it would be enough to get Sonic’s body to cooperate…yet nothing.

The young fox lies down next Sonic, cuddling up next to his best friend, his brother, his…family. Lies next to him and sobs. This was all his own fault. He should have done a better job at emphasizing how dangerous this place was, he should have had a better plan, he should have called for back-up, he should have…Tails looked at his discard arm blaster. He then slowly and scarily looked at his own red foiled gloves.

“It was me…” Tails chokes. “I killed Sonic.”

He laid there in silence, snuggling close to his brother. The tears never stopped, not until everything went dark. =================

@nixoon-again @tornado1992 @myyla-x @tornado1992 @000marie198 Am I cool yet? I did the thing. II want y'all to know y'all single handedly got me back into writing. With your stories. Hope you know that. This is inspired by y'alls work <3

[ggomos-maribat]

4 | about the Paris Mademoiselle

Part 4 of Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Dead | Masterlist

After hearing out Adrien's suggestion on where to have a meal, Tim and Jason ended up in the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

Might as well check out where she lived, right? Tim looked around the homey place as the overhead bell chimed behind them. It was small, simple: glass cases enclosing an assortment of doughnuts, croissants, danishes, eclairs, cookies, pies, and even single-tiered cakes. There was a tip jar next to the register labeled with a cute scribble, positioned next to a statuette of the Eiffel. Warm scents wafted from the kitchen at the back, and Tim could even pick up the faint smell of caffeine from the coffee-making station.

He and Jason took their seats near the register, allowing Tim to peer at the picture frames hung up on the wall. Though most of the photos were mundane, one stood out at the center: a picture of Marinette standing behind the counter, dressed in an apron and a bright grin.

"You're still not allowed to drink coffee," Jason said suddenly.

"I wasn't going to." He rolled his eyes.

From looking around, there didn't seem to be too many 'hints' of Marinette around aside from the photos.  The place seemed moderately busy, with a short-haired woman—Sabine Cheng perhaps?—manning the register.

Tim lined up behind two women pointing at the pastries. The blonde one wearing a blue dress pointed at the glass. "Hey, those pink macarons! Weren't they her favorite?"

The other woman, cropped pixie cut, elbowed her companion, hissing, "Rory!"

Then, she turned to Sabine Cheng, "I'm really sorry, Mrs. Cheng."

"It's quite alright, dears." There was a fond sparkle on the eyes of the older woman. "You're right, those macarons were her favorite."

Tim and Jason shared a look. 'Her' . . . did that mean Marinette? Quickly, he took his phone out to make a quick profile search—the two customers turned out to be former students of Francois Dupont, but not part of Marinette's class: Mireille Caquet and Aurore Beauréal. Both were based outside of Paris but still within Europe, and seemed to be back in the city for a brief visit.

"We'll take those macarons, Mrs. Cheng." Aurore smiled apologetically. "And two coffees, please."

"Of course. It's on the house, girls."

Mireille paused from reaching for her wallet. "No, you don't have to!"

"I insist. You're only here for a few days, yes? Consider it a welcome back home."

After the girls politely extended their thanks, Tim ordered lunch for himself and Jason, whilst paying close attention to the macaron selection. Pink strawberry macarons, huh? He thought. That does suit her.

He lent Jason his phone for him to take a look at his brief research about the two women. "They knew her, I think." Tim stole a glance at the next table. "Not very close, but she helped them out during their reporter gigs."

"There's nothing out of place around here," Jason commented as he idly read over the profiles.

"One camera pointing at the front door, and one at the back door. There are barely any blind spots, but if she did slip past surveillance, the streets on the way to bridge should've caught her at least." Tim's expression twisted.

"Tampering?"

"Doubt it. It doesn't look edited." Tim shrugged. "I asked Babs to be sure and she says so."

He took out the small wrinkled list from his pocket and cleanly crossed out Adrien's name. Can we ask those two women? It didn't feel right interrogating them out of the blue, especially when they were in Marinette's family bakery, with her mother close by. Still, it was an opportunity for them.

Jason even looked like he was ready to ask.

"Jay, come on, we have to think this through."

"Dickie would ask if he were here."

"Dick's a smooth-talker. We're not."

Jason tilted his head. "We have Adrien's excuse."

"Er, hello? It's still bad timing."

"Fine. Let's just go over what we have then."

"She was bullied, even though the school records said otherwise; she was involved in multiple extracurriculars; and according to both her friend and parents, she wasn't acting odd before her death," Tim listed off from the top of his head.

"If she wanted to expose Lilia, then . . . isn't that a motive?"

How much of that conflict could've elevated into murder? Tim couldn't piece it together. He didn't want to rule out everything else just because Lilia Ross was so easy to accuse. "Tricky part is that Lilia actually has an alibi that time."

Jason's eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Two years ago, she was just starting things out with her brand and during the week Marinette died, she was on another part of France, having product meetings with her suppliers." And that alibi was airtight.

"Okay, fine, let's back up. The rest of the class was on Lila's side. Is it possible that it was any of them?" Jason suggested.

"They don't exactly have alibis, but I can't track down where exactly each of them were on that day either." Tim glanced at the other table, where Sabine Cheng served the girls their orders, plus free croissants as well. "And going back to the details of it, could they have pulled off something as—er—clean of evidence as that?"

"A lot of them are rich kids, you know."

"Fine, then say we suspect someone else in their class, do you really think any of them would have the heart to do . . . that to their classmate?"

"Who else could've had a vendetta against her?

One name occurred in Tim's mind, a flash of dark purple and gentle wings. He hesitated a little before saying, "Hawkmoth."

"Hawkmoth?"

"That's the only one I can think of, okay!" Tim shifted in his seat, and then lowered his voice. "Apart from Adrien, Marinette had been the only one to never have been akumatized in their class. That kind of strength to resist akumas is something Hawkmoth would prey on."

"I think you overlooked one problem here, Timbers." Jason looked unimpressed. "Hawkmoth was defeated five months before she died. Ladybug herself said that his Miraculous was taken from him."

"I don't know, maybe he's still a powerful person behind the mask. Or like, it was an accomplice."

It was tricky that Hawkmoth's real identity wasn't ever revealed despite his defeat. It caused quite an uproar within Paris, but Ladybug was set on that decision. As for the reason, all Tim could think of is that the heroes were trying to avoid backlash on whoever was close to the 'real' Hawkmoth.

"You're saying he was fixated on this one girl he can't akumatize?" asked Jason.

"Are you saying that your theory is more likely?" Tim retorted back.

"I'm saying we need so much more evidence to figure this thing out."

Tim sighed audibly. It was true that they were fully basing their guesses on speculations. If they could dig a little bit deeper, they should find a clue that leads to the truth.

"Monsieurs."

Tim stiffened all over in just a span of a second. Were we too loud? When he looked up, both Aurore and Mireille were standing by their table. He quickly checked if Sabine Cheng had heard anything, but she seemed preoccupied with the pastries, fortunately.

"Were you talking about . . ." Aurore whispered. "Marinette?"

"No," Tim lamely replied.

Mireille crossed her arms. "You were. We heard. What is going on?"

"There has been an anonymous request to reopen the investigation," Jason lied smoothly, eyes flickering over to the counter. "But you must understand that her parents are not to be involved."

"What is the reason for this 'reopening'?"

Before Tim or Jason could say anything, Aurore spoke: "Lila. It's Lilia Ross, isn't it?"

"We're not on her side, if that's what you're thinking," said Tim hastily. "Maybe there's something you know?"

Both girls looked at each other, as if sharing a silent conversation. Then, Mireille answered morosely, "We wish we knew more. We couldn't pry into it because she closed herself off from us—even Marc Anciel, one of our common friends."

"Did you know what Lilia Ross did to her?"

"We saw what she did," Aurore said bitterly. "Poor Mari couldn't even catch a break; she was never herself anymore."

"We could've done more," Mireille mumbled. "We tried looking for more information about her death but . . . there's nothing. We even asked Monsieur Raincomprix—that's the father of one of our schoolmates, he was part of the investigation team—and he never said a word."

Aurore nodded, "No one from the police disclosed it."

"Why did they leave the case?" Tim asked. "Did her parents ask . . .?"

Yet again, the two shared a look before Aurore said, "There was someone who asked for the investigation to be closed. Her parents had no choice but to consent to it."

"There was someone pulling the strings from behind?" Jason frowned.

Mireille pinched the bridge of her nose. "Looked like it. That's the only thing we know." She heaved out a sigh. "Actually . . . there is one person who might know or has the means to find out. We can't approach them because, well, it is simply too awkward but maybe the two of you will have more luck. She actually flew over from New York yesterday."

"Who?" Tim leaned in.

"The editor-in-chief of Paris Mademoiselle, Chloe Bourgeois."

***

"What's CEO Timothy Drake-Wayne doing investigating the death of a French teenager?"

Tim internally winced, not anticipating that Chloe Bourgeois had recognized him. The blonde had surprisingly let them into her office (which was also surprisingly extremely messy) next to Le Grand Paris Hotel. Their encounter reminded Tim of a principal's confrontation with students—Chloe's eyes were unwaveringly cold towards them.

"He's just tagging along for my case." Jason brandished a fake ID, naming himself as a private consultant. "We're here at an anonymous request to re-investigate the incident. We want to ask you about Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"Who requested it?"

"We can't say—"

"Was it Adrien?"

Jason shook his head calmly. "We can't disclose any details."

Chloe sighed in exasperation. Like with Adrien, the exhaustion behind her face but she hid it more loosely. Even deeper than that, Tim saw fatigue, restlessness, jetlag, a hint of sadness.

"She was my classmate," Chloe began. "Well, I think she should be more than that to me. I've known her since kindergarten. She was always top of the class, all smiles, kind to a fault, so much of a klutz, habitually late . . ." She paused. "I was just her bully."

She has that deep faraway gaze. If there was anyone who didn't bother to hide the hurt from losing Marinette, it was her. Chloe Bourgeois. "I've known her since kindergarten but we were never friends. It's my petty jealousy's fault, I don't know. Even if I mocked her so many times, she always fought back in some way. She had such a sharp tongue. She despised me as much as I despised her.

"Did you know she had a crush on Adrien? I bet you didn't. It was embarrassingly massive that she'd trip all over the place. I'd pick on her about it." She fiddled with a button on her blazer. "The crush mellowed out over time but—but everything about her mellowed out so much. I don't know why I did anything but I asked my Dad how she died. No matter how much I begged, he said 'his hands were tied'. Believe me, my father always gave anything I asked.

"You won't believe how devastated everyone was when she was gone. My dad cried. Hell, my mother shed a tear. Andre the ice cream man cried. Nadja Chamack broke down on live TV. Everyone outside our class cried. Her friends who abandoned her had the audacity to fucking cry. It was like the whole city was grieving. You know why? Because Hawkmoth was already gone at that time. Everyone thought it was finally our time to heal but nooo, they didn't see how much it took a toll on those who barely kept it together the whole time.

"Marinette was never akumatized. She's been targeted by so many akumas, had so much done to her but I never once saw her break. Not even close. Of course she wasn't fucking okay enduring all of that. Of course I had to be the idiot who never tried to apologize to her," Chloe spat out. "There. There's my statement."

Tim felt so pinned down by her gaze. The irony . . . it was Chloe who talked more about her than Adrien.

Jason cleared his throat. "There's one more thing. Lilia Ross—"

"Lila?" She sneered. "No, don't get me started on her. You should be smarter than believing that stupid act she puts on."

"Did her transfer . . . change Marinette somehow?"

"Uh, yeah! She practically lost all her friends," she scoffed. "I'd say everything was going downhill at about Quatriéme, but steeply when Lila showed up."

"Why? What was in Quatriéme?"

Chloe raised a judgmental eyebrow.

"When Hawkmoth first showed up," Tim mumbled. "Did you collect other evidence aside from asking your father? Didn't you ever want to know why?"

"It's useless. I have other things taking up my time right now." But in Chloe's eyes, Tim could clearly see that she wanted to know. Desperately.

"Besides," Chloe added, "My dad's not mayor anymore. I can't exactly pull any strings."

"Do you know anyone else we can ask?" Jason questioned.

"Not really." Her voice turned soft. "I'm not in close contact with anyone anymore. But there's something I've been wondering about myself, and maybe you can look into it."

Chloe reached up to rub her shoulder. "Those rumors online about Lila. They turned up out of the blue, didn't they? Now, who's exactly behind all of that?"

Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @toodaloo-kangaroo @missmadwoman @afanofmanyships @atomicherringpersonjudge-blog @wheredostarsgowhenyoudie

[jacksprostate]

Before Project Mayhem, before fight club, before Marla, before Tyler — there is still one sad sack of shit.

.

.

The hard part about work trips isn't making the plane or seeing another family of five burnt into their leather seats. It's missing support groups.

See, if you're lucky, the company will send you out to a major city. Cities are great. A little advanced work to find a slightly below average church or library, you're set each night you're there.

It's a bit of novelty, getting to be a new face all at once. People assume you've just been diagnosed. It's never the failed treatments, the degradation of their life and everyone in it, the continuous experience of knowingly dying — none of those things are the worst thing that happens to you.

It's finding out they will.

So people cry. They crowd around, I sob like I've been told I've got stage four colon cancer and three weeks to live. We all cry. I sleep soundly on the plane back or in the nice, four star hotel my company provides me.

Flying out to a small town, though. I'll be awake enough to be hallucinating by the time I get back for Remaining Men Together. The only mercy is that the next time I show for all the groups I missed, I can see who thought I died. I get to be resurrected.

The other part about small towns, you have to take a second, shitter plane to a local airfield, or you have to take a rental car. One of the most popular rental cars available right now, it'll light itself on fire if you use the cruise control at the wrong time. I know this because I sat next to another guy with my job, who worked for a different company, and he said I'll show you mine if you show me yours. So I told him about the faulty airbags, and he told me about the overheating switch.

I prefer to avoid driving.

All the rental place at the airport has left for me, it's one of those flaming cars. I use cruise control. If I don't, one of my narcoleptic spells will send me into the Jersey barrier.

When you drive into these small towns, you have to try to pay attention, or you'll end up a county over talking about the wrong wreck. They're otherwise interchangeable, but the miles on your rental car won't line up and those are the type of records that might get pulled out when the company is finally sued for the big one ten years down the line.

As a result, I see the same decor on the way in every time. Meth lab. Abandoned homes. Garbage fire. Classic Americana. There is no four star hotel here; I sleep the same.

The only reason I've been brought out here is because the poor shithead who drove his truck into the ditch drunk was driving my company's flagship vehicle. It loses power steering if the car jostles the right way going above 55 miles per hour. I've been told to keep track of potential incidents and make sure the company can firmly claim it's not at fault.

We've had this problem for decades, and we will for many more. Sometimes, everything is falling apart.

The job is simple, and I only get tempted by the town's blatant opioid addiction for a day and night. Painkillers would probably make me sleep. The thing about being a recall campaign organizer, though, is like recognizes like. It's not only other Compliance and Liability guys who tell you company secrets while sharing the aisle in business class.

When I'm finally back in my own town, after my own support groups, after crying my eyes out into Bob's meaty middle — I pick up my mail. There's the newest IKEA magazine. Half of it looks like shit. The type of thing you'd only see in some curated art deco, modernist, post-modern traditionalist bohemian minimalist apartment.

I have to have it.

I go to sleep, hard, like God himself tucked me in. I sleep with my wallet net four hundred heavier, because even an IKEA spree tends not to outweigh a work trip. I sleep, with my called in IKEA goods only two short weeks away, my job well done, and I know, my life is complete.

[jankwritten]

Jasico Bingo Challenge: love letter

A sheet of paper, folded into thirds, dotted in places with what must be water and grass stains. The handwriting is legible in some places, and shaky in others. In the margins are small doodles of birds, clouds, trees, and other miscellaneous, abstract shapes, as if the writer’s mind kept wandering. 

TO: Nico di Angelo 

FROM: Jason Grace 

Hey, Nico. If you’re reading this, something probably happened to me. Maybe I hit my head again and lost my memories, or something, and you went through my stuff to try and find things to remind me of who I was. Maybe this fell out while we were hanging out, one day, and you saw it was addressed to you and you picked it up. Maybe I died—

However you found this, I guess, surprise! :) 

First thing’s first: I’m sorry for leaving. I know I begged you to stay, and then turned around and left, and I really hope you understand - I didn’t leave because of you. I needed to find Leo, and leaving with Piper was the easiest way to do that. I had to try and get him back. 

I wanted you to come with, but you were still healing and things were going really well with you and Will. I hope things still are, in fact. Wherever I am, I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come, and how much I’m sure you continued to grow even after I left. 

I really love you, man. I never got to tell you that, but you’re one of my best, closest friends. You mean so much to me. You showed me a side of the world that I never would’ve seen otherwise, and gave me a space to be myself, and I will never, ever know how I deserved that. How I deserve you. 

Is that out of left field? Haha it definitely is. Sorry. 

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nico. I didn’t want to leave. I’m so sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry I had to go and I’m sorry it had to be me, but it couldn’t be her, Nico, it can’t be her, it can’t be. It has to be me. 

It has to be. 

Here, some of the words are smeared from the water marks. Lines cross through some words that have then been re-written, as if in after-thought the author realized they were too important to delete. 

If you really are reading this, after the worst case scenario, I understand if you’re angry. I understand if you never want to think about me again, after what I’ve done. I’ll understand if you storm to your father’s palace and demand I be placed in the worst of the worst punishments for being so stupid. 

Gods. Gods, Nico, I’m never going to get to tell you how I really feel. About all of this, about everything I’m going through, I’m never going to be able to tell you and that hurts. It hurts more than knowing I’m going to die, it hurts more than getting stabbed and poisoned. I’m going to die loving you and you won’t even know until it’s too late. 

Maybe this is a stupid bad idea. Maybe I should let it die with me. Is it cruel, to tell you how I feel if I’m gone? Does this make me an awful person? 

Shit. I think I’m an awful person, Nico. I’m awful and I’m selfish and I can never choose things for myself, it always has to be for the greater good, so this is it. This is as selfish as I can be. This is all I can be for you. 

I want to see you on the other side. I want you to punch me for getting myself killed and hate me for being a hero and I want you to know that I didn’t want this but it needed to be me. It has to be me. 

I’m still wrapping my head around it, but it has to be me, okay? So if I’m really gone when you’re reading this, okay, you have to let me stay gone. Please. If you get hurt, if you die, and it’s my fault, I could never— 

Here, the letter abruptly stops. Then, it continues: 

That’s all I wanted to say, anyway. That I love you. I love you in any way I can, and even if I’ve done it silently, and stupidly, from a distance, just know that it was there, the whole time. It’s still there, wherever I am. Dead, or lost, or whatever. I love you, Nico. I’m sorry.

-- Jason Grace :)

[sadiecoocoo]

So if Tech did survive that fall (please let him be alive) do you think he would have to some prosthetics like echo? Like he’d need new legs or something, probably more than that but yknow

Need this for a fic… even tho it’s not at all tech centric lol (just set in an au where everyone is happy and back together and go back to doing bounties [havent decided if it’s bounties or if they do jobs for Rex when he needs it… possibly both])… it’s wrecker whump :}

[se-run]

where is my malleus dies in the middle of his overblot in the most gruesome and devastating was possible without ever knowing what actually happened bc his mind was clouded type angst

[the-last-quest]

Shadow was tired.

He just needed to wait until morning.

He just needed to not look at the mass in the center of the room.

(Sonic dhmis au)

[1456 words]

Tw: Major Character Death, brief description of injuries (it’s mostly left to imagination)

Shadow was tired

Kneeling on the tiled floor of the kitchen it was taking every bit of him to not close his eyes. To not let himself succumb to the cool release of sleep.

Or death.

Whichever came first.

Today’s lesson had been a brutal one, though Shadow supposes most of the lessons were brutal.

It started when he and Tails were cooking lunch, when the kid had accidentally nicked himself with the knife. Of course that caused a lesson to start. The teacher, this time taking the form of a talking knife block, preached to them all the joys of kitchen safety. Which then, of course, led to the two of them having to dodge multiple sharp kitchen utensils.

Shadow didn’t come out of that unscathed. He took a hit from a knife that was clearly aiming to take out Tails. At the time it was worth it to him, saving the fox from the pain from the blade. The large gash on his side bearable as long as he saved the kid from death at that moment.

Now though he wished he let Tails die then.

Gritting his teeth Shadow pushed himself off of the floor. Shooting pain emerged from his wound, but he bore through it. He’d handled worse before, not joking when he said lessons were brutal. He just had to leave the kitchen. If Shadow was going to bleed out he wasn’t going to do it with that looking straight at him.

The lesson didn’t end with the knives. They never ended with the knives. With Tails being the one who started the lesson the teacher’s attention was solely on the fox, and with Shadow already injured there wasn’t much he could do to protect the boy. He doesn’t know if he should be happy that the lesson ended at the blender before the teacher even acknowledged the overheating oven.

Using the wall for support Shadow kept his eyes glued to the ground as he made his way out of the kitchen. He didn’t want to see what remained of the fox again. It was bad enough the first time, as he watched the unfolding of the lesson, not being able to do anything about it.

As Shadow was just about to reach the doorframe, just about to leave the chaos forsaken room he stopped. He could feel the eyes on him, watching him as he left it all alone. He couldn’t do that, as much as he wanted to leave and wait until morning, to have his memories of this day fade into a dull ache in the back of his mind. He just couldn’t leave. Sighing he mentally prepared himself, turning to look at the center of the kitchen.

Shadow couldn’t call it a body, refusing to even think of the life the mass used to hold. The only thing that remained intact was the head. It was a cruel joke he supposed, something the teacher did to ensure the lesson stuck.

Blue eyes seemed to haunt Shadow.

First it was Maria on the Ark. Even with his memories of the outside world growing fuzzy he still remembered his sister and her eyes. He remembered the wonder they held when she looked down at the Earth, the love that he left when she looked at him, the pain as her life faded away.

Now it was a different pair of eyes, but to him they meant the same thing. The eyes that at first marveled at the new world they found themselves in, before either of them knew what it held in store, the eyes that constantly sought him out for some semblance of stability after they figured it out, the eyes that he had to watch constantly fade because he couldn’t save him.

That's how they were now, a brilliant blue faded to a dull gray.

Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. Swiping them away angrily, Shadow growled at himself. He shouldn’t feel like this. He knew this was going to happen. He knew that by the end of the day one, or both of them would end up dead. He’s been through this enough times by now that he knows he can’t change anything. He knows that he can’t save anyone.

So why does he feel like this? Why does he feel a paralyzing helplessness whenever one of those damn teachers comes to life? Why does he feel so guilt ridden over something he knows he has no control of because he himself is a victim? Why does he feel the same way he did back on the Ark?

Shadow sinks down against the wall, as those same questions swirl through his mind. Over and over again. The same questions never relenting. He knows the answer to them. He knows why, but he can’t bring himself to admit it. If he does things would change. It would just give them more ways to inflict pain and there was no way that he would ever give them that opportunity.

Right now though there’s nothing they can do. The lesson for the day was done, the sun having already set below the horizon. Morning needs to come again.

Knowing this Shadow gives up. He allows the tears to flow down his cheeks. His sobs irritated his already sore throat, his heaving breaths causing even more pain to spout from his wound. He doesn’t care though nobody is watching him, the only eyes open right now are ones that don’t matter.

Those eyes aren’t seeing anything. They won’t think he’s weak because he failed to protect someone. They won't remember it in the morning when they seek him out for comfort. Right now he can let everything out. He can fall apart and by morning he’ll be put back together again.

He cries until his lungs give up on him, when the blood loss finally makes itself apparent. He opens his eyes and finds the other ones staring back at him. He knows his will look the same soon.

Shadow lets himself drift off, the night finally winning.

~~~~~~~~

Somewhere, up above, gloved hands pick up two figures out of a small model kitchen.

They take care to fix them up, the fox figure having more repairs needed than usual, while the hedgehog only had a scratch.

Placing the figures into a model bedroom, the hands making sure to tuck the fox into bed. It’s the least they can do.

Sighing they begin to turn the crank.

The model house spins around while distant piano notes play a repeating tune.

It’s morning once again.

~~~~~~~~

Shadow was in his bed again. A small bit of light shining through his eyelids told him it was still early, the sun's rays just peeking over the horizon.

Taking a deep breath he let himself enjoy the moment. The peace that came with the early morning the only time he could find himself getting the closest to a semblance of relaxation. He knew the silence wouldn’t last forever so he took this time to enjoy it.

As if right on que soft footsteps made their way over to Shadow’s bed. Without opening his eyes he lifted the blanket, inviting Tails in. The bed dipped as the kid crawled under the blanket, curling up against the hedgehog, gripping onto his dark fur as if his life depended on it. As if Shadow could save it.

Lowering his arm, Shadow pulled Tails closer. He doesn’t know for whose benefit it was, they both needed it.

Time continued to pass as they lay together, the sun coming up over the horizon, the alarm ready to go off in any moment.

Tails shrunk into him, shaking as it drew nearer for them to leave the comfort of the bed. The kid didn’t cry though. He hadn’t cried in a long time. Shadow doesn’t think that’s a good thing.

Running his fingers through yellow fur Shadow tried to calm the fox, even though his anxiety was also rising. He doesn’t remember exactly what happened yesterday but he knows it was bad seeing that Tails sought him out this morning.

Today he’s going to make sure he takes the brunt of the lesson. He’s made this vow before, but this time he’s going to try harder, to draw the focus of the teachers towards him.

Because deep down, even if he would never admit it, Shadow cared for Tails. He cares for the kid that is stuck in this eternal torment with him. Even though it will kill him, Shadow will try his hardest to protect him.

Tails was his brother now and he’d be damned if he had to watch another sibling die in front of him.

[wren-of-the-woods]

It's Just Like Falling Snow (I am Above You, and I Love You)

Another fic for @finishwhatyoustarted-event! This one is set just after Rogue One and is a sort of happy epilogue to the events of the film. CW for the aftermath of character death (from the dead character's PoV).

Rated G, 1.2k, on AO3 here.

~

Cassian dies. 

The warm, blinding light of a planet’s destruction envelops him and he feels only a second of pain before he knows he is gone, his body vaporized and his soul left floating in the ether. 

It is a relief, at first. The pain and ache and adrenaline that filled his body drain away into nothing. For a moment, he feels calmer than he has in days or even perhaps years. He can sense the force around him, feel it in a way he’s never felt it before, a way he never thought possible, and he spares a moment to think that if the Jedi felt it like this, suffusing their very beings with warmth, perhaps it is understandable that they were capable of so very much.

But as his pain fades, so does the sensation of Jyn’s arms around him. Her touch disappears into the mist of recollection and, for a moment, the ache in his soul almost surpasses the pain that had been in his body. He is alone again. There is no one. He would have thought that after all this time he’d have become used to the loss, used to the loneliness, but it would seem that he’s not the hardened criminal he pretends to be. It hurts.

Then—

It feels like an embrace, like a part of the warm force that surrounds him but more intense, more vital and filled with something that Cassian realizes, after a startled moment, is love. It feels like arms embracing him. It feels familiar, like protection from cold and the smell of metal and the well-known ringing of the anvil. It feels like—

“Maarva?” Cassian whispers, and it shouldn’t be possible because he doesn’t have lips or a tongue or lungs anymore, but something must have worked because he hears, wrapping itself around him like a blanket, a response. 

“Cassian,” she says, and it feels like a hole in Cassian’s heart that had been long ignored but never filled begins to close. 

Cassian can’t get choked up anymore, can’t cry, but the feeling is still there and it must have been communicated somehow because he feels the warmth around him strengthen like arms tightening their hold.

“I’m so proud of you,” says Maarva, and Cassian gasps a shuddering breath with lungs that don’t exist. 

He tries to speak but fails, trailing off into a wounded sound of pure feeling. 

“I am,” says Maarva. “You did it. Cassian, you did it. You found the plans. You saved people. You’re a hero, Cassian, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

“I failed so many times,” he whispers. “I did so many things I’m not proud of.”

“But you persevered,” says Maarva. “You kept going, and you triumphed, Cassian. The legacy of your victory will endure when the remnants of your failures have crumbled into dust.”

Cassian does not know how to respond to that, so he says nothing, simply letting himself exist in the vicinity of the woman he has missed for so long. 

And then a familiar presence appears behind him, and Cassian knows without looking that Clem is here. 

“I missed you,” Cassian whispers. He feels a sensation that resembles, more than anything, a hand on his shoulder. 

“I was proud to give you my name,” Clem says, and Cassian chokes out a laugh. 

“It was just a code,” he says.

“I know,” says Clem. “I’m still proud.”

Another voice chimes in, young and painfully familiar. It’s a voice he’s heard over and over again, in person and in a recording and in his memory.

“That was incredible, Cassian,” says Nemik. “Absolutely incredible. You’ve topped Aldhani. I always knew you were a revolutionary at heart.”

“You inspired me,” Cassian manages, and somehow, though none of them have bodies, he knows that Nemik is smiling. 

And then, in a language that Cassian hasn’t heard spoken in years and yet that is as familiar as his own hands and his own tongue, speak two more voices. 

“Kassa,” they say, and if he could, Cassian would be dropping to his knees.

“Mom? Dad?” he asks. Those words were the first he learned to say, and remembering them feels like freedom. 

“Yes,” they say.

“You’re not alone,” they say. “We’re not alone.”  

Suddenly, Cassian knows they’re right. He can feel his people all around him, can feel his sister, their presences as familiar as the wet forest air of his long-lost home.

“We’re proud of you, Kassa,” they are saying. “You did well. You helped us, you remembered us, you avenged us, and we’re proud of you. We love you, son of Kenari.”

If Cassian had still possessed a body, he thinks he would be crying. As it is, he simply basks in the relief of the pain and loneliness he has carried with him for so long and the joy of being, finally, in the presence of his whole family. 

Your father would have been proud of you, Jyn, he had said, there on the beach with her in his arms, and with the ease of long practice he had ignored the thoughts of his own father— fathers, really, and mothers and sisters and even brothers — and yet now here they are, here beyond his wildest dreams. They are here, they love him, and they are proud. 

It is more than he could have asked for. It is, quite possibly, more than he deserves. The thought does not bother him nearly as much as it might once have; he is far too happy to finally be here, among his family. 

Beside him, he feels Bodhi, startled and a bit regretful yet triumphant. He feels Baze and Chirrut, hand in hand. He feels Melshi, sad but so damn proud. He even feels, beyond his wildest dreams, the presence of Kay at his side.

He feels that they have won, though he did not live to see the victory. He feels that they saved people. He feels that what they did was worth it all.

And then, suddenly, slotting in beside him like the final piece of the puzzle that was Cassian’s life, Jyn is there. She is warm in the force beside them, bright like the stardust she is named for. She is radiant. He thinks that if she could, she would be taking his hand. 

“We did it,” she says quietly. She sounds far more at peace than he ever heard her in life. She sounds happy.

“We did,” says Cassian. “We really did.”

Slowly, gently, he feels an invisible force tugging him forward, towards his family and an ever-growing light. It does not feel forceful or cold as he might once have imagined it; the feeling is soft and tender, a request more than a command. 

“Come with us,” say his family. 

Cassian is warm. He is surrounded by more love than he has ever known. 

“We will be with you,” they say. “You are not alone.”

Perhaps for the first time since he was a child, Cassian believes them wholeheartedly.

Around him, his friends — his family — are present and triumphant. Jyn’s presence is solid beside him. He tries to squeeze her hand with a body that no longer exists, and feels a sensation resembling an answering squeeze in return.

“Are you ready?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says softly, “I am.”

And, together with his family, Cassian steps into the light.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

I have been crying on and off about that Tommy MCD fic idea since you posted about it. The way you write emotional devastation is soooo good. It always punches me in the gut.

Thank you thank you here’s some more of it… using this as my fuck it Friday post, thanks for the tag @eddiebabygirldiaz, tagging @colonoscopys @homerforsure @chronicowboy @shitouttabuck @bigfootsmom @daffi-990 @butchdiaz @ anyone else who has stuff they want to share!

Going to put a lot of this under a cut because one its long two it’s a major character death au and there’s a bit about past contemplation of suicide. But it’s kind of happy generally I swear! This is Buck and Eddie getting together sort of!

For more of this au I’ve been tagging it ‘the seconds ticking killed us all a million years before the fall’ (lyrics from standing outside a broken phone booth with money in my hand)

I’ve hated and thought this scene was pretty good in turns over the last few hours so whatever here you go!

Eddie thinks the creaking on the front porch might be a raccoon, at first. It’s light, comes and goes for several minutes. He should probably go shoo it away, but it’s two am and he’s sore all over and can’t be damned. He’s settling further into the couch and his various ice packs when the raccoon knocks. Hesitant, hesitant, loud, loud, louder. Eddie stands up with only a slight groan, ice packs flopping all over the place, and goes to the door.

Buck stands on the other side of it.

If Eddie hadn’t been so exhausted yet in too much pain to fall asleep, he thinks he might have expected this. If he was a little more exhausted, a little more hurt, he might have admitted to hoping for it. As it is, all he can do for a moment is blink at the apparition before him. Buck is pale, wild eyed, looking somehow thinner than when they’d last seen each other not that many hours ago. His hands come up to hover near Eddie’s shoulders as Eddie is also reaching out, so he ends up with his fingers colliding into an awkward fist against Buck’s elbow.

“Eddie.” He sounds wrecked. “I’m- I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s alright,” Eddie says, soft, shaking his head. “I’m okay, Buck. I’m still okay. Like I promised.”

Buck makes a terrible little noise and steps backward, and again, off the porch. Eddie follows, hands out, trying to make sure he won’t trip. “Eddie,” he says again, “Eddie.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, keeping his voice low, calming, less likely to wake any neighbors. “Buck, it’s okay. Do you want to come inside?”

Buck looks up behind Eddie, where the door is wide open. Light spills through, shining in his eyes, in the unshed tears there. “I don’t want to… waste… any time I have.”

“What-”

Buck kisses him. The sound Eddie makes is more frightened than anything, even as his arms come up around Buck, to hold him close, to hold him up. It’s not- it’s wet, and Buck’s fingers almost hurt where they’re dug into the sides of Eddie’s head. Their faces are pressed too hard together, noses crushed into cheeks. Their lips are barely even aligned. Buck gasps a hitching breath into his mouth and Eddie pulls back. Not away, just enough to speak.

“Come inside,” he pleads. “Buck, come inside, just- please, come inside.”

Buck doesn’t let go of him, doesn’t give him an inch, but lets Eddie pull him into the house. Eddie’s not sure how he manages not to trip going blind and backwards, but they make it through the door, down the hall, to the living room. Eddie’s not even sure if he’d count what’s happening as kissing, but Buck’s mouth presses into his over and over as they go.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, between the moments of contact. “It’s okay,” he says as he kicks a shoe or something out of their path, “It’s okay,” as sits back down on the couch. Buck climbs on top of him immediately, and Eddie hopes the combined weight of them doesn’t pop the ice pack that ended up crushed under his thigh. It is kissing, now, the desperate kind of making out Eddie remembers with Shannon in the day or two on either side of his deployments. Eddie slides his hands to rest firm against Buck’s lower back to anchor him — or maybe both of them — and follows Buck’s lead as their lips slide together, as Buck gets his mouth open and chases his tongue, as they gasp raggedly for air without ever breaking apart. He’s not sure, but he thinks Buck is crying. Eddie isn’t, barely. Buck needs someone solid right now, someone who will let him take what he needs and be okay if this is it, if this is the only time they have this. Because Eddie’s not fooling himself. He laid there at the bottom of that pit under all that rubble and heard Buck’s scream, first wordless, and then Tommy, and then Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He knows that this might all be too much, too soon, too mixed up, and if Buck pulls away from this kiss and never comes in for another one that’s okay. He wishes, maybe, that it could have happened different. He wishes Buck had been smiling, and it had been gentler, on a bright afternoon, on a good day. But it’s okay.

It goes until Buck’s elbow catches a bruise and Eddie can’t stop a small, pained sound from getting out. Buck jerks back like he touched a hot stove, eyes open to near circles as he looks Eddie all over. Eddie knows it's sort of a rough picture, all purple and blue and a fresh line of stitches cutting a half moon around his temple from forehead to just under his mole. Buck’s fingers come up to trace it, not quite touching the skin. Just the shape, in the air.

“S-sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so- I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says again. He wipes a thumb under Buck’s eye, though it doesn’t do much to clear away the still falling tears. Buck leans into the touch, though, and then in further, head cradling against Eddie’s shoulder as he slides half off him onto the couch. Eddie slides his fingers into Buck’s hair, wraps his other arm around him as Buck coughs muffled little sobs into his t-shirt.

“S-sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Buck.” His hair feels a little limp, greasy. Eddie wonders if he went home at all, took a shower, ate. His own fridge is kind of dire — he was planning on going to the grocery store after work until a building collapsed on him — but he could probably scrounge up something. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Buck scoffs a single, wet laugh. “No,” he says, voice thin, scrubbing at his face as he sits more upright. “It’s not- you didn’t do it on purpose. That’s the job, right?”

The job that killed your husband. Why would you want to do this a second time? I care for you so much and I’m so sorry you reciprocate. “Yeah. Still.”

Buck inhales and exhales, shaky, and nods in thanks. He makes a face and pulls another ice pack out from under him. It’s all floppy now, probably too warm to be effective. “God. Let me…” He stands, gathering up all the ice packs he can see and heading towards the kitchen.

“You don’t have to-”

“I’ll be just a minute.”

Eddie sighs, leaning back into the couch and listening to the freezer door open and its contents get shuffled around. The soft hiss of it shutting, Buck’s footsteps, Buck in the doorway sheepishly holding an armful of frozen vegetables. Eddie arranges peas and carrots over the worst sore spots as Buck sits back down beside him.

“Did you take anything?”

“Yeah, just before you got here.” Extra strength ibuprofen, so he won’t be good to take anything else until morning. Wasn’t going to be a problem when he thought he was just going to sleep, though he wishes he’d taken a smaller dose now so he could spread them out, time it better to however long they’ll be talking here.

“Good.” Buck sighs, looking at him with furrowed brows. “Sorry I… I didn’t mean to be so dramatic, coming here.”

Eddie laughs, startled and genuine. “It’s, uh, been a dramatic day.”

Buck hums agreement, a tired and beautiful smile pulling at his lips. He flops his head sideways onto the couch. “I kind of had a… an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Of what I was going to say. Because…” he searches Eddie's face. “I'm not- I'm not making it up, right? There's something here? You feel it too?”

Eddie can barely breathe. “Yeah, I- it's not just you. But- Buck, I understand why you wouldn't want to do this, why you wouldn't want to take the risk. I- I have feelings for you,” it feels like a childish way to say it even as the words leave his mouth, “But I… you're my friend. I think you're my best friend. And I am truly fine with that. You don’t have to… it’s okay.”

That smile. “That’s the thing. That’s what I’ve been thinking about. N-not just today. Though, I guess- you scaring the shit out of me made it more- more real.” He chews at his lip for a moment. “I… spend a lot of time wishing… that I had more of it, with Tommy. That we had longer together. Or at least that I- that I’d made sure every minute counted, you know? B-but I think maybe I did? I loved him so much and we- it was good, what we had. Just because it ended, that doesn’t mean the rest wasn’t worth it. I’d love him again, knowing what was coming. And, so…” he takes a deep breath. “So I’ve been thinking that… even if I… even if something bad could happen- I don’t want that to stop me from having something good, now.”

“Buck-”

“Hold on,” Buck says, a hand up, a wry smile. “I have a part two.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s turned towards him without really noticing, both of them sitting one leg folded up on the couch so their knees touch.

“I’m not… going to stop loving Tommy. And I’m, uh- kind of a fucking mess, as I just demonstrated. I don’t- know that I’m- going to be any less messy any time soon.” There’s a furrow in his brows that Eddie wants to smooth out. “I don’t know that starting something would be fair to you.”

“I-”

“You’re a very kind man, Eddie.” Buck says it very softly, and one of his hands comes to rest so gently on Eddie’s leg. “I think you’d let me fall apart here forever, but I want- I want you to really think if it’s worth it-”

“Buck.” Eddie’s voice is sharp enough that Buck blinks several times, quick. “Don’t- you’re worth it. Your pain isn’t- it’s not some kind of chore to me. I haven’t been just- hanging around, waiting until you’re a fun guy. I like you, Buck, right now, not- not some other perfectly okay version of you.”

Buck’s fingers twitch against Eddie’s thigh. “You’re a very kind man,” he repeats.

“I don’t even know if that’s true,” Eddie sighs, the material of the couch soft where he rests his cheek against it. “I just…” He thinks back to that first day Buck showed up at the station, and then to every day after that. “I think I always just wanted… to make your life easier.”

“Oh.” Buck shuts his eyes, whistles a breath through his nose. “You- you do. You do, Eddie.”

They’re quiet, at an impasse. The whole world is quiet, here at nearing 3 am with all the colors purple dark outside of this lamp lit room. Eddie can hear crickets and frogs if he listens hard enough. “Tommy was my friend. I’ve felt… guilty.”

Buck opens his eyes again. “For liking me?”

Eddie smiles a little at the phrasing — Sophia’s 8th grade voice saying like-like in his head — and nods. “It feels… disrespectful. He loved you so much, I don’t- I don’t know how he’d feel about it.”

Buck scratches a nail absently against the fabric of Eddie’s sweatpants. “We talked about it, a little.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The jobs we have, you know? It’s not like- it’s not like we never got hurt, never thought about what would happen if one of us…” Buck shrugs, and his smile aches this time. “I told him if I died he had to be sad forever, only love me the rest of his life.”

Eddie laughs. “Mm. Reasonable ask.”

Buck nods, smile getting bigger, almost a grin. “I didn’t mean it, but… You know, I think he would have. He was teasing when he promised, but… he was serious, too, I think.” He sighs. “He told me he was scared I wouldn’t let anyone love me. He said I-” Buck’s voice cracks badly enough he has to wait a few moments to continue. “I’m too easy to love. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t go without it.”

Eddie feels a little wide eyed. “That’s…”

“Isn’t that just annoyingly romantic?” Buck laughs, wiping his eyes. “Reasonable ask. Jesus.” He scrubs harder. “I think he… he wanted to make my life easier, too. You’re… you’re so alike, sometimes.” He winces. “No, that’s- I don’t mean- that’s not why I-”

“No, it’s… I know you’re not trying to replace him.” It’s not like he hasn’t had the thought, himself. He and Tommy got on so well in part because they were alike. Shared hobbies, both army, both carrying around a complicated relationship with their families and their sexuality. But they’re their own people. And- “I wouldn’t want to… try to be that, for you.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

There’s another quiet minute. Hesitantly, Eddie rests his hand palm up next to Buck’s. Buck slides their fingers together, and they fit as well as any hands do. “So… what do you want to do? What do you want to happen?”

Buck squeezes. “I… I’m not sure.”

Eddie nods. “Has there… am I the first person? After?”

Buck’s eyes get a little calculating, like he’s not sure he should say whatever comes next. “I hooked up with a girl, a few months in, uh, a little before I came to the 118. In a bar somewhere, I don’t even remember… And then I went home and, uh-” he winces, glances to the side. “I almost killed myself.”

“Buck-” Jesus, jesus-

“No, no-” Buck squeezes tighter, sits up a little straighter. “I didn’t. I didn’t and I wouldn’t. I- I’m safe, I promise, Eddie. It wasn’t- it wasn’t even actually an attempt, I just… thought about it.” He swallows. “It was close, I guess.”

Eddie’s clinging more than holding his hand. “Buck- if- I don’t want to-”

“No,” Buck shakes his head, firm. “I didn’t tell you because I- I thought if we-” his other hand wraps around the two of theirs. “I don’t want you to think if we move forward you’re putting me in danger. You’re not. I- I wasn’t doing well back then, it was hardly even about- it was a lot of things. I’m going to be okay, I swear.”

“If- If you’re ever not-” words feel like physical objects in Eddie’s throat, choking and uncomfortable. “Promise me you’ll tell someone, Buck. It- it doesn’t have to be me, just- promise me.”

“I promise,” Buck says, solemn, serious. His thumb rubs gently at the back of Eddie’s hand. “I’m sorry, I- I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No,” Eddie disagrees immediately. “It’s… I asked. I want to know. I-” they complete another loop on this circle of a conversation. “I told you, your pain isn’t a chore. You don’t need to hide anything from me.”

“Right,” Buck sighs.

“Buck.”

“No, I-” Buck laughs a little at Eddie’s admonishing tone. “That was a right, I understand, not a yeah, right. I just-” he takes a hand away from the tangle they’ve got going and runs it through his hair. “God, I’m tired.”

Eddie nods. He’s exhausted, down in his bones. “Okay. I’ve got two things to say that don’t really go together, this time.”

“Okay,” Buck smiles at him, eyes crunched up and fond. “Hit me.”

“First, I think…” Eddie sits up straighter, too, takes a deep breath. “I like you, Buck. I- care for you. I- I-” Truth has to go both ways. Fuck it. “I’m in love with you. You should probably know that.”

Buck nods, eyes wet again. “Okay.”

“But I think if we… If you want to try being together, we should take it slow, and if you need to back out, that's okay. You’re my friend, and I swear to you that’s more important to me than anything else. So… So we have to just keep being honest with each other, even if it might hurt.”

“Alright,” Buck nods again, wiping his eyes. He manages a smile. “Was that the second thing, or…”

Eddie shakes his head, lips quirking up. “No. The second thing is, you wanna come sleep with me?”

Buck throws his head back laughing, almost losing balance where he sits. Eddie grabs his elbow to make sure he won’t fall over. “Eddie-”

“It’s late,” Eddie explains, not bothering to keep the adoration out of his voice now that he doesn’t really have to. “You shouldn’t drive home, my bed’s more comfortable than the couch.”

Buck laughs again, resting his elbow on the couch and his chin on his hand. He looks at Eddie, and Eddie thinks there’s plenty of adoration in that gaze, too. He shakes his head, though. “I think I’ll still take the couch tonight, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is.”

Buck raises their still clasped hands and kisses Eddie’s knuckles, holding his smile pressed into the skin there for a few moments. “And in the morning we can start to… figure out the rest of it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers. Smiles once, twice. “See you then. Looking forward to it.”

Buck ducks his head, though his smile is still visible. “Yeah. Me too. Go- get some sleep, Eddie. I’ll-” he laughs, looking around them. “I’ll put away your peas.”

“Oh,” Eddie lifts up a bag of mushy vegetables. “No, I can do it, don’t worry about it.”

“Eddie.” Buck stands, gently taking the bag, and hesitating only a moment before he bends down and carefully kisses his cheek. From only a few inches away, eyes soft and close and blue, he says “I want to make your life easier, too.”

Eddie swallows hard, rests his hand against Buck’s cheek for just a second, and nods, momentarily incapable of words. Buck is halfway to the kitchen when he manages to say “Goodnight, Buck.”

Buck turns in the doorway. Smiles. “Goodnight, Eddie. See you in the morning.”

[ithilien-wolf]

[nat-without-a-g]

Heyy so dungeons and daddies season 2 episode 49 spoilers but I Have to ask this because the transcript isn’t out yet and I’m worried I’m missing something.

Okay so. Willy declared that he caught everyone who was a threat to him, that being all the daddies and their sons— LIVING AND DEAD, they were fished out of their respective afterlives— after catching and capturing Grant, Nick, Terry Jr., Sparrow, Darryl, Henry, Glenn and Jodie, and he concludes he has everyone who is a threat to him after shutting away Ron. Willy also has god powers.

…

Where the hell is Lark?

Because he fell out of heaven but I don’t remember hearing an angel come back with him, and if he died he would have gone to hell and been captured there (he’s one of my faves but he did kill a whole lot of people.. and I don’t think he got baptized.) either I missed something, Anthony forgot about lark, he was injured in the fall and only Willy is aware of it, or he died and went the way of the Hermie.

Maybe it was glanced over in a single line, and I’m kind of hoping it was because. Even if Lark is fine, he is the one who wants to kill the Doodler, more than any of them. It’s a deeply personal desire. Seeing as he still has the cuff that stops him from hurting Willy, what’s stopping him from doing something Reprehensible to Dood in attempt to help the kids?

I doubt it tbh, Anthony allows the PCs a lot of freedom in what happens, but that tends to lead to NPCs not doing anything unless they’re an antagonist or are addressed first (god that should have been the thing that told me that Sparrow was not the one approaching Normal at the campfire…). I like to imagine them emoting or talking to each other in the background.

[sonic-adventure-3]

uuuuuuuu immortal shadow in the far far far future having a devil chaos chao. his chao living such a full and happy life it reincarnates to stay with him TWICE at least.

long ramble about that and chao biology:

chao biology ramble: in-game, chao have a lifespan of about 33 hours total, ignoring all the messy stuff and presuming they never eat. it takes about 3 hours for them to evolve from child to adult, an adult has a lifespan of about 29 hours, and it takes about 9 hours for an adult chao to fully mature/go through “second evolution”. feeding them makes them evolve faster (1 whole fruit (4 bites) shaves off about 3 minutes, with 50 whole fruit (200 bites) for children and 240 whole fruit (960 bites) for adults being enough to evolve it on the spot if it could eat instantaneously) but doesn’t affect lifespan (unless they’re children, it’s kinda complicated). where was i going with this?

anyway, being generous, if we interpret in game hours as years then chao live like 33 years, and assuming they’re being fed it’ll take like 1.5 years to evolve the first time and 4 more years to reach full maturity. shadow’s chao is a fully mature adult dark run/run chao (with purple wings :D) so theoretically it’ll die or reincarnate in like 27 years. when dying/reincarnating chao cocoon similarly to when evolving for the first time, but when dying it’s white and when reincarnating it’s a very pale pink. in-game they take like 2 minutes or something to emerge from the cocoon so with taking an in-game hour to be a year, chao will cocoon for about a week. after reincarnation, the chao will emerge from their egg again, but will keep their names, 10% of their stats, and their genetic information like colouration (e.g. shadow’s chao’s purple wings).

lore wise, chao seem to be pretty uncommon and often only seen as children or newly evolved. it’s likely chao reincarnation and especially chaos chao are perhaps completely undocumented. chao have been on angel island for millennia though so knuckles probably knows a lot about it, either through relics documenting chao, or firsthand experience of seeing the chao up there reincarnate.

in 27 years, when shadow’s chao reincarnates for the first time, maybe there wouldn’t be the documentation to tell apart a death cocoon from a reincarnation cocoon. maybe any sparse documentation of chao life cycles would equate an adult chao cocooning with it dying. maybe after days of finding no answers he likes he’d find himself up on angel island asking knuckles it’s not true, that there’s something he could do, could have done, to save his chao. and knuckles, not knowing the colour of the cocoon, not wanting to get his hopes up, and even after so many years not fully believing shadow capable of making anything that happy, says no. there’s nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable.

so shadow has to accept it. and spends the rest of the week processing it. and on the final day, the day death cocoons would dissipate, he says goodbye to his chao. and the next morning he finds a chao egg right where the cocoon had been and can only stare. and a month later when it hatches, a baby chao with purple wings that already loves him stares right back.

about 33 years later it happens again. and instead of panicking, shadow puts the pink cocoon in a warm and cozy spot. and waits patiently. and a month later he greets his not-so-new born chao a second time.

a century or so later, there aren’t too many beings left that still remember him, and fewer that remember the chao that followed him everywhere. the few that do can see it looks pretty different than it used to. the horns and fire and gold eyes are pretty strange for a chao. still has those purple wings though