#given the um

[pinacoladamatata]

the way some people are acting about larian saying "no bg4 from us and no dlc" you would think they killed the bg3 characters where they stand and made it so you can't play bg3 anymore

[lucabyte]

Not all who wander are lost. Some who wander, however, are extremely, extremely lost.

[egophiliac]

Ego this happened and I need to tell another twst fan bc I'm so ahhhhhhh

my Nana (the biggest Disney fan I know) came over for Easter so i show her twst on a whim, bc it's my favorite thing yknow? I show her the characters and the battles, my cards, my guest room, all the good stuff. Then I decide to do a ten pull on mirror bc why not, I have 300 gems and maybe she'll give me luck 🙂

NOT DORM CARD MALLEUS FINALLY COMING HOME AFTER MONTHS OF HEARTBREAK 😭😭

AHHHH congratulations! ...also can your Nana come visit me too, because I have not gotten a SINGLE one of the dorm dias even with rerun pickups. 😭 does Malleus just demand grandma power or something.

[notbecauseofvictories]

completely and entirely forgot that Vetinari and Carrot get together to gleefully "reward" Samuel Vimes and also ruin his blood pressure forever.

[pacifythots]

there's something so comforting about umemiya's hugs. one part that contributes to it, is they hold no bias. whether you be his family, enemy, or lover—he'll wrap you in his arms with a little squeeze for emphasis. another part is that despite them being universal—for everyone, they all feel unique to the individual he's hugging.

for example, when he leaps to hug kotoha. (one of the times he doesn't miss) with kotoha, he's latched to her like glue, hugging her like a sibling that came out of town to see her.

with choji, it's soft. there's not too much pressure, just the soft feeling of warmth wrapping around his body with the quiet message of 'its okay.'

and with you, there's nothing but pure unadulterated love. of course, he'll turn down the dramatics depending on your mood, but his hugs always tell you 'i love you' without the words coming from his lips. plus, one thing that's lucky about you being his lover, you get a barrage of kisses to go with his hugs.

they're always relaxing, sometimes back breaking, but they always feel so good. you can never get enough of them.

"feel better?" he coos with a kiss to your forehead.

"'course, ume," you smile, leaning into his secure arms. "now keep hugging me."

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[divorcedtom]

[creatively-cosmic]

in loving memory

or: what did @pkmn-monochrome mean by this

[kusanagihaku]

maybe, in other life, it goes like this.

⭢ haku x mc, 1.7k

Maybe, in another life, between the firm interlace of your fingers will rest not a curse, but a happy ever after. or: a short drabble of pining, yearning, and what it means to long for someone who wants you too.

—

“There’s a shrine nearby.”

You look up from where your CATSMO map is open on your phone. “How near?”

Haku scratches his ear. “About two minutes? If the Galaxy Express isn’t coming in the next twenty minutes I think we can spare a trip there.”

You look down at the map again. You’re sure it won’t take more than twenty minutes for the Express to arrive, given whatever physically impossible warp speed it travels at, but there must be a reason Haku brought up the shrine. “Missing home?”

Haku laughs. There is an undercurrent of exhaustion, which frankly isn’t surprising given the mission you just wrapped up. “In a way.”

A detour less than half an hour after the end of your mission should be easy enough to fudge on the inspection report, you figure, especially since it’s so near dinner time. And since it’s Haku requesting… You stuff your phone back in your pocket. “Let’s go.”

It’s always hard to say no when it comes to Haku.

The shrine isn’t difficult to find, parked in a small patch of land between two office buildings. There are a few people lingering about in the last rays of evening, heads bowed in quiet conversation as they wander around the honden.

Haku leads you around, however, to a smaller sub-shrine tucked under a large tree. The further you walk into the compound, the more relaxed he seems, shoulders slumping slightly and his breathing a little deeper. The gold chains of his uniform glitter as you pass under a patch of dying sun, then dull completely as you come to a standstill in the shadow of a hollow wooden shrine.

Haku takes a deep breath. His eyes flutter closed, long green brushing against the pallor of his cheeks, almost as if he is basking in the aura exuding from the structure. He has done a good job of hiding his weariness – where you are usually distracted by a charming smile you see now grey-purple bags bruising the hollow of his eyes.

Your hands itch to brush his hair away, to let him lean into your palm, to let him close his eyes and rest as you… you hold back a sigh.

Almost as if he hears you, Haku’s eyes crack open. He glances at you, impish grin hanging itself on the corner of his lips. “Staring at me again?”

You flush, but before you can form a retort something white flashes at the corner of your eye.

Perhaps it is by grace of the fact that you’ve been working on this solo mission with Haku for the past week, or perhaps it is due to the trickle of life-and-death situations you have been in since last October, but you react almost immediately, spinning on your heel and reaching out for Haku.

Haku’s hand finds yours, blindly thrown out in your direction as he steps forward slightly to shield you, but his fingers lace with yours instantly like a magnet finding home. His other hand rests on his hip, uniform jacket pushed aside in favour of easy access to his flute.

It looks almost casual to anyone else, this rehearsed defence looking like a startled step forward on Haku’s part, but you know different. You suck in a breath at the hum of power that surges from your ring to where your fingers interlock with Haku’s.

But it is only an old lady, stepping out from behind the wooden structure. She is dressed in simple priest robes, paper fan slung around her wrist, and her eyes round at your alarmed reaction.

She is not a threat, you decide, and you feel Haku’s body relax next to you as he comes to the same conclusion. There is no need to use either of your stigmas, and yet…

He doesn’t let go either, fingers firm in your own.

The priest apologises for startling you, thick Kansai accent warm with welcome. She peers at you kindly. “A lot of couples get married at the main shrine. Have you come to ask around?”

“That would be nice,” Haku smiles. There is a wistfulness in there that sounds age-old. “In another life.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raised, but he has struck up a conversation with the priest about tonight’s weather and how a little rainfall might do the wisteria by the entrance some good in the April heat.

In another life. The words lick flames up from where your hands are joined, a thrum of want and hope that settles in your chest and paints the wreath of your ribs the colour of sunrise.

You know Haku’s interested — he makes no effort to hide it. He cracks jokes about taking you out on dates at least twice a week, as if hearing it enough will negate the fact that what is left of you will be dead come the crest of October, and both of you will be left with a pain time can never erase.

You make no effort to hide your blushes either — he knows how much it flusters you when he tucks your hair behind your ear, how fast your heart beats when he leans in a little too close. He knows how much you want to acquiesce, and yet…

The priest takes her leave, and the two of you are left in the grey wash of an already set sun.

“In another life.” The words sound strange coming from you, standing out against the hum of the cicadas.

“In this life, too, if you’d have me,” Haku says. His tone is light, but you don’t have to look at him to taste how bitter his smile is. You both know it will not be possible.

The chasm between you is larger than what six months can bridge.

All too soon he is pulling his hand away to hand you a coin, warm from where it has been sitting in his pocket.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and then the only sounds left are the dull clink of the coins falling into the wooden offering box, and the clatter of the bells as Haku steps forward to tug on the straw rope hanging from the rafters.

You both bow twice, and clap.

You don’t remember what you wish for – you pretend you do not wish for him – before your mind wanders off to the phantom press of Haku’s palm against yours.

Maybe… Maybe, in another life, it looks like this:

Your hand in his, standing not on the edge of an inky galaxy but on the infinite edge of forever.

No responsibilities, no curses, no anomalies, just two dust motes floating in a shared beam of sunlight, spinning together again and again like atoms dancing their way home.

Haku does not let you go in this one, no — his fingers will be wound between yours not with the intention of fighting or saving or protecting, but just holding.

The jokes he cracks about taking you on dates will not dissipate into longing, the brush of his breath against your ear will not burn. His eyes on yours, his touch on your hair, his hand on the small of your back — they will not linger late into the night long after you return home.

Instead of giving you his umbrella, he will share it.

His hands will be a warmth, a weight. An anchor under the brightness of rainy moonlight, holding you steady in the sea of ordinary life, like you both are nothing but two river stones finding yourselves in the middle of a shared stream.

You will drink in the whiskey gold of his eyes without fear of setting your lungs ablaze, and taste the laze of his smile without fear of forgetting.

You will meet him in the middle this time, languorous and lingering, and you will love him, like the moon orbiting the earth orbiting the sun, leisurely and without any intention to stop.

Maybe, in another life, between the firm interlace of your fingers will rest not a curse, but a happy ever after.

Or maybe, in another life, it goes like this:

Maybe, in another life, you are sitting next to him on beige-grey tatami, laughter in the air and afternoon sun tangling its fingers in his hair in the best kind of halo. He is looking at you, all bright eyes and soft adoration. It will send your heart bubbling like soda in the back of your throat.

Over and under and under again, he will repeat, then laugh when the red string of your ume-musubi slips through your fingers for the sixth time. Perhaps we can just buy ready-made ones in time for the wedding.

No, you will say, fiercely, not because this is Haku and the deftness of his fingers have already weaved three ume-musubis in the time it has taken you to struggle through one, but because the idea of being wedded wearing plum blossom knots weaved by the other, breathed to life in the curve of your thigh some time between sunset and sleep last night, sings a sweet promise of forever. I can do it.

It will take you two more tries, but you will do it, red tassels slotting into place like Haku has slotted himself into the space between your heartbeats, undeniable and sure.

Well done.

His congratulatory kiss will send the sun down your spine; the reach of his hands for yours will send gold through your veins.

Maybe, in another life, the moor of his fingers as they curl into yours, warm against your ring and the ume-musubi you will pin to his lapel, will mean the same thing two toothbrushes lined up on a bathroom counter does. It will feel like shoebox Nakameguro apartment does, like dancing in your socks by the light of the moon, like my-Hotarubi-hoodie-on-your-side-of-the-closet, like train station warabi-mochi bought because-I-know-you-like-it.

Maybe, in another life, you will be as much each others’ as you are the universe’s.

But in this life, you open your eyes, and you bow, and you turn away from the shrine, and you do not say anything when Haku’s hand brushes the back of yours as the both of you walk away.

[bandtrees]

-we're through. I can't live with that sort of-

[tommygettingwrittenoff]

i just think if roles were reversed and buck was the one saying those gay ass lines to eddie, eddie wouldve proposed like four seasons ago

[callmehere-iwillappear]

umm. i'm a day late but here's this anyway? i saw this and uh. couldn't resist. happy one year since the rise movie (and also sorry)

also donnie's full rant vv

"Nardo I know your WHOLE THING is making poor taste badly timed + unfunny jokes but respectfully WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU I am not saying "cowabummer" '''''for the bit''''' holy SHIT can we NOT DO THIS???"

[barrenclan]

i feel like it wouldve been cool if deepdarks face was never shown to have like a hint of mysteriousness or something. like this cultist murder deer dude could look like literally any deer. idk how often ppl do this for villains so it could be a cliche but idk i feel like that idea does fit deepdarjs energy. though i still love deepdarks design and what youve doen with it ofc and i understand that would be really difficult to do in a webcomic LMAOO

[sistersofsilver]

I JUST wanna know who these two are, does anyone know? is it ever acknowledged???

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

did you guys think id be normal about this

[0vergrowngraveyard]

sonic vs tails thing but instead of tails (or a version of him) being the one upset or something, it’s sonic getting some sense knocked into him when he’s about to do something that strays a little too far from his moral code