And like that the quilt celebrating the end of the amazing Dr. STONE anime is done!
All parts done by amazing artists for such an incredible show. Good luck to the future astronauts 💫 🌍 🚀 #dcsttwtquiltcollab
i’m in love with you (do you think it shows?) - mike/will | m | wip | amnesia au
An accident leaves Mike without four years of memories. He wakes up convinced that it's 1989, that Bush is the President, and that his time at college in Boston has only just begun.
But it's 1994. There's a new President. He lives in New York.
And somehow, he shares an apartment with Will Byers.
Based off of a comic by @chazukee1 you can see here.
Gen was fine. His manager was a little freaked out about the security breech, but while some other fans and paparazzi had given him the heebie jeebies, he just didn’t get a dangerous vibe from this one. The stalker slipped past security to take pictures, yes, but he was oddly polite about it. He left when asked, and Gen’s security thought he was a journalist or blogger because of how professional and polite he was about clearing off. Gen hadn’t even known how frequently this one guy with a telephoto lens on his camera was creeping around until he’d done Gen a favor.
Mr. Stalker took pictures of Gen going to the spa, but none inside. Mr. Stalker had packed up his camera into a bag and gotten his own manicure, perfectly polite to the staff and with only slightly more time looking in Gen’s direction than was strictly polite. No attempt to see more skin than Gen revealed in public, no attempt to get into the back while Gen was in a private room, and Gen hadn’t even noticed some fans were there until he was checking out, so it hadn’t ruined his relaxing spa day. The owner of the spa was happy to let Gen have a copy of the security camera footage due to the minor incident, so he could see what Mr. Stalker and a Superfan had done. The video footage was only of the front room while the outdoor camera took stills every minute, but Mr. Stalker hadn’t left that area. The superfan had been escorted out well before Gen came out of the massage room to get his manicure.
What really got Gen’s attention was how Mr. Stalker intercepted the other super-fan. No territorial fight, at least not on Mr. Stalker’s side. The woman wearing mostly Gen’s stage persona merchandise got a little heated, but the staff said that Mr. Stalker shut it down with blunt, scathing logic that defused things. If she made a scene, it would ruin Gen’s day, so she should either pay for and enjoy some kind of service or leave. She did just that, but the staff was watching her intently after that and caught her trying to sneak into the back.
Turnabout was fair play, and the lack of the usual obsessive behaviors while still following him all over Japan was interesting on a professional level. The spa gave Gen a name, Senku Ishigami, once Gen was looking for him he was easy to spot sneaking around. Gen found himself collecting security footage at a few other places. There was no digging in the trash, none of the paparazzi journalism trying to find a scoop or super-fan hunting for souvenirs. Mr. Stalker just liked to following Gen around.
Now, many dangerous people start out just a little bit off of normal behavior and then escalate, but after a month and a half of collecting security camera footage Gen decided to see how much of an online footprint the guy might have. Most people used screen names, but perhaps he wasn’t internet savvy enough to hide his personal data or had an arrest record. That would tell Gen if this guy was a known problem.
He was not ready for what he found.
Senku Ishigami was a prodigy, a genius by any measure who had published all sorts of research papers including being credited on NASA and JAXA publications. At first Gen thought it was just someone with the same name, but then Gen saw a headshot on the JAXA website. Gen was being stalked by a grade-A certified genius who looked absolutly smoking hot dressed in a lab coat and covered in engine grease in an areospace engineering laboratory. Senku had built drones that were being used by the National Defense force to help locate survivors of natural disasters. He’d published papers about rapid vaccine dispersal methods, alternate and civilian uses for advanced materials, and even won a big grant for designing a new module for the international space station. It hadn’t been built, Gen wasn’t sure if it was just a contest and wouldn’t be built or what, but low gravity nuclear power was just… Why was he spending his free time taking pictures of Gen?
Gen briefly entertained the idea that Mr. Stalker stole the name of someone he vaguely resembled, got the same dye job on his hair, and hid himself behind this much more impressive person who was sure to take up the first five pages of search results. Then Mr. Stalker showed up with suddenly shorter hair. The next day Mr. Ishigami’s instagram had pictures of an exploded engine and a quip about how flammable hair is. The English-speaking account ScienceIsEllegant posted a picture of Senku immediately post-explosion looking a bit singed and covered in fire retardant foam with the caption ‘This trip to Japan has been more exciting than I would prefer at times, but failures are excellent teachers provided one can walk away from the consequences.’
It was wrong to be flattered. This wasn’t safe. This was hardly sane behavior. Consenting to being stalked was an outrageous oxymoron. Gen shouldn’t encourage this. He winked at the camera the next time he caught his stalker filming from the bushes.
Cyber stalking wasn’t any worse than what Senku was doing to him. Gen found a few accounts that must be close friends and colleagues, and all of them looked like interesting people. A NASA scientist who was at least romantically cohabitating with a US Marine. A fiber arts madwoman who was super sweet and entirely too prolific. A baseball player, Taiju Oki, who played for a university team. His father was an astronaut, his step-mom was Lillian Wineburg - yes that Lillian - and really could this guy get any more interesting?
Subtlety posing for the hidden cameraman was a bit of (hopefully) harmless fun. A wink here, a tilt of the head there, a smile, and he knew he was playing with fire. Still, nothing happened for months. Senku kept following him, but still that polite and respectful distance that meant Gen’s agent hadn’t noticed Senku enough to get a restraining order or have him trespassed. Senku was smart, he knew where the line was, and he had enough self control to hold that line.
Their little game was doing things for Gen. Dangerous things.
Gen commissioning a costume directly from Senku’s fiber craft friend was, perhaps, a manifestation of that danger. His stalker followed him to the meeting with Yuzuriha where they discussed exactly what sort of costume Gen wanted and what he needed it to do. Half dress, half suit, and it had to convert from something that looked a lot more pedestrian and casual at the start of the act. Not so loose it got caught on anything but loose enough for him to have things up his sleeve. A magician’s clothing was part of his arsenal, and even if Gen was a mentalist his contracts said he had to include certain magic tricks and slight of hand in his television show with a certain frequency. He ended up wearing it for the Christmas special, the warm sweater miraculously folding and pulling inside-out while Gen was locked in a cabinet to become a shimmering lavender dress on his right side and a sexy stylish suit on the left for the reveal that also introduced his half-white half-black hair. The fuzzy red and green hat he’d worn covered up his natural hair for most of the show, which he had finally finally gotten approval to stop dying black.
He wondered what his stalker thought of his coming out like that. It wasn’t like crossdressing in the entertainment industry was all that odd, but still. Most people thought it was just coming clean about his skin condition and how he was losing pigment in patches. He was twenty-two now, still doing a popular talk show with a mentalism twist as he worked to have more hard-hitting and serious interviews amid the sillier magic tricks. Before too long the growing bleached spot would start to discolor his face, so it was best to come clean before he needed to use makeup on his forehead. He’d happily do that forever, but coloring his hair was stinky and annoying. Hardly anyone put much thought into the fact that he’d also been wearing half a dress.
Only Yuzuriha knew he’d ordered a couple girly things on his personal account. Or she should have been the only one, but he wasn’t sure if she’d mention it to her childhood friend. It was just after the new year when Gen spotted his stalker watching Gen’s apartment balcony while he was having some tea on the one day he had completely off a month. Gen went inside, but left the door cracked open a little. The icy draft wasn’t ideal, but it should ensure Senku Stalker-gami would keep watching. Gen was a professional, so the quick change was no problem, but he had to fix his hair and put on some makeup to make the proper impact.
When he was done posing, he went inside and sent his stalker a message on instagram sent from a throwaway account DiscardingP3tals with a profile pic that was a close up of Gen’s eye. The only image posted to the account was of the dress Yuzuriha made for Gen, hanging from a hook on his bathroom door. The custom dress was unique enough with it’s geometric style to prove who owned the account.
“I stalked you back. Does that make us even?”
The next morning Senku sent him some of the pictures he took. Gen in his cozy sweater with his tea. Gen in his lavender and powder blue dress, looking out at the horizon. Looking right at Senku, the iridescent beaded hair clip blending into the white half of his hair. Laughing at himself for doing something so silly. They were really good, the lighting and focus so much better than the celebrity spotting blogs. He knew how to use his fancy camera, but that was hardly surprising given his many talents. There were a series of messages after the images:
“Pick a public place, coffee or whatever,” Rocket2TheMoon wrote.
“I’ve met and become close in real life with people I have only known through the internet before. Someplace open, so neither of us is boxed in.”
“If you don’t want to meet we can keep on as we are, or you can tell me that’s enough of whatever this has been and I’ll back off a bit.”
“It doesn’t have to be in person for that. You can say it right here.”
“Or send someone else if you want me completely gone.”
Gen considered his options all morning, then replied during lunch.
“Do you just want to take pictures?” DiscardingP3tals replied.
“That is enough for me, yes, but if we talked that might change,” Rocket2TheMoon sent. “You are interesting.”
“You’ve got an aroace flag in one of your pics,” Discarding P3tals said. “Is this a flirty thing or no?”
“That’s an old picture.” Rocket2TheMoon typed for a while before the rest of the response appeared. “Someone from my class in school gave that to me and I was polite about it. I don’t like labels like that, nothing in biology fits into neat little boxes, but I’ll try for you.”
“Try what?” DiscardingP3tals replied.
“Explaining,” was Roctet2TheMoon’s immediate reply, then Gen enjoyed his sandwitch and watched the dots indicating that Senku was typing for a long while.
“AroAce is two ill-fitting labels. Aro? Debatable, demi fits better if I have to pick off the list, but I’d rather say busy. There is science to do, but sappy PDA isn’t for me. Whatever you want to call what we’re doing is fun, with the winks and you hiring my best friend and putting on a dress for a private photo shoot. Ace? Nope. Just a misunderstanding. I’m autistic and strangers in my personal space is gross, but just because I’m not into lots of physical affection even from people I know well doesn’t make me ace. Mind if I ask something?”
“Go ahead,” DiscardingP3tals said.
“Is it just crossdressing or should I be careful about pronouns?” Rocket2TheMoon asked.
“Male pronouns are always fine, but it isn’t just crossdressing,” DiscardingP3tals admitted. Gen felt nervous, despite what he’d recently done on live television.
“Are female ones ever welcome?”
“No.”
“If that changes for a day or whatever just say so.” That was shockingly easy.
“So, we’re both bisexual?” DiscardingP3tals asked.
“If you are, then yes.”
“There is a cafe I’ve thought about visiting.” DiscardingP3tals also sent a link to the cafe’s website. It was roughly halfway between the lab where Senku worked and Gen’s apartment. “We’ll both have to be well behaved, the owner is strict and the place is covered in CCTV.”
“I’m out of the country or sleeping off jet lag from this Thursday to next Monday. Other than that I can make it work as a longer than usual lunch break or after 4pm on a weekday.”
“Saturday after next, noon?”
“See you then.”
Despite all the reasons not to, Gen showed up for the date. Senku looked utterly normal, or as normal as someone with green-tipped blond hair that defied gravity could look, but then he’d always dressed well. They talked about the latest experiments in green energy, the effects of global warming on a dozen topics both social and scientific, how gacha games use every psychological addiction hack they can to drain people’s wallets, and if Pokemon Scarlet and Violet would be better than the last generation. There was no awkward meaningless small talk. Senku didn’t flirt, at least not overtly. He didn’t have flat affect like some autistics, but recoiled when someone brushed past him to get around their table like the touch burned. He was good at masking, but had a few verbal stims like ‘ten billion percent’ and ‘exhilarating.’ Gen thought that the intense focus he gave to their conversation should count as more than platonic, and the way he looked at Gen’s body in his hyper-trendy outfit could only be described as loaded.
He was way, way too cute. It was like the universe tailor made a smart boy to Gen’s exact specifications, and may the gods help him but he didn’t care they met in the creepiest way possible. This guy had been stalking Gen for at least ten months now, without it affecting his personal or professional life. None of his friends or family seemed to know about it. The time management alone was impressive, but also if anyone in Gen’s life knew about this they’d slap him and drag him off by his ear. Was there any danger in the fact that this genius persistent stalker wouldn’t let Gen go unless it was on his terms if Gen was happy with that?
They talked like they had been chatting for years. Gen held back none of his cold reading skills, if Senku didn’t like the real him then that solved the stalker problem and if he did then Gen wanted to keep him so there was no risk in being genuine for once. He called bullshit when Senku tried to say he wasn’t into music at all. The nerdy boy had been forced to play an instrument in the school band as part of his fast-track education and still played the saxophone, which was interesting, and they talked about what sort of music they liked for a bit.
“I couldn’t find anything about your family,” Senku said as he put his jacket back on. The owner had come around to not-so-subtly ask if they wanted to order dinner as well, so it was past time to go.
“I’m on my own, for the most part,” Gen admitted. Probably shouldn’t have, the obsessive interest that drove Senku to stalk him hadn’t seemed to wane at all. If anything, the other man was more interested in Gen now. “At least as far as blood relatives go.”
“Oh, I don’t know anyone related to me by blood,” Senku said.
“Now, don’t forget I’ve been all over your social media,” Gen teased him as they walked out.
“I’m adopted. I don’t even know what my family name used to be; it doesn’t matter.” Senku said it so plainly, as if anyone who disagreed couldn’t possibly have a valid point.
“Gen Asagiri is a stage name. Well, halfway. I’m still fighting to get my family name changed legally in Japan so I can write it in kanji, but with the power of dual citizenship I was able to get it changed and written as a foreign name before I started my career,” Gen explained. “The court clerk said ‘superficial misty illusion’ is a name I’ll come to regret choosing, but I’ve lived with it long enough now I expect them to cave and stamp the papers sometime this year.”
“Well, Lillian has a big project promoting healthcare charities this year, and the old man wants me to spend more time in the states with her family. I have a hypothesis, but the evidence is too ambiguous to draw a conclusion I’m willing to voiceyet . Either way, I’ll be bouncing across the Pacific a lot, hopefully timed to match the research I’m doing so I don’t waste too much time on airplanes and can expense the tickets,” Senku said. “I’m nineteen, in case you hadn’t figured that out from your research, and I’m working on my master’s thesis. Technically I’m going for material engineering, but I’ve got a large focus on sustainability, and I should graduate this spring. Anyway, it’s going to be a busy at the beginning of the year for career reasons and I expect it’ll get busier for family reasons later on. I know we had a lot of fun last year, but I probably won’t be able see you as frequently.” Senku paused, considering. “That came out a lot more normal sounding than… yeah.”
“I could give you my number,” Gen offered. “We can be a like boring people and see each other the way people normally mean that.”
“I’m still going to photograph you,” Senku said, unapologetic.
“I think I’d be disappointed if you stopped entirely,” Gen admitted. “Please don’t get trespassed. I know you’ve been good so far, but only good boys get to be a little naughty.”
Gen cyber stalking his stalker to see if there is something he might do to get rid of him without things getting messy or violent, and turnabout is fair play.
Gen: Oh no, he's my type. The gods custom made a smart boy to my specifications level my type. I like his stupid jokes on Instagram. What am I going to do?
- fifteen minutes of existential crisis and one Coca-Cola later -
