#sonicfanmail

[blueblurchecksin]

Dear Sonic, What's

Sonic tugs open the mail box and searches the tunnel. His hand emerges with a single letter, unsigned as before.

He rips open the envelope, leaving a canyon trail down the fold. He leans against the mailbox, the post groans in protest.

Sonic pulls out the note.

His ear twitches.

A low buzz drone hovers above him. An electronic whirl snaps his eyes upwards.

A Buzz Bomber's stinger erupts with a shrill scream.

Sonic's body flickers. The laser slices through his after image, catching the mailbox in an arch. Splitting the red paint from titanium.

Sonic skids to a halt in front of the treeline. Gravel piles against his blade soles.

He raises the note, peering through a steaming hole. Edges seared in black.

Sonic stares down the android and frowns, "You're a long way from Green Hill."

The Buzz Bomber veers towards him, the base of the stinger sparking. A vibrating whine crescendos.

Sonic steps forward, folding the burnt note, "Here." He shoves it into the cuff of his glove.

Lens eyes extend from their sockets, narrowing a red target on the hedgehog's face.

Sonic drops to a crouch. A sneer splits his muzzle, "Lemme help ya' back."

His back muscles draw inwards, knees curling to his chest. He rolls up, spines erecting. He revs in place, dust skidding behind him.

Spin dashing forward, Sonic's weight slams the android into the gravel. Grinding against the outer plating, the android's limbs tremble, joints stutter in their sockets. His spines saw through wiring and components. He erupts on the other side in a splatter of oil.

The android's abdomen arches. Jerking to a stop.

Sonic unravels and stands, patting his gloved hands. He exhales, pulling the folded note from his cuff. He mutters, "Sucks for whoever sent this."

A wire shifts, two long ears sprout from the chest cavity. A Pocky peeks out, nose wiggling.

Sonic's eyes drift towards the blue critter, hand lowering. He grunts in his throat and squats down, draping his arms over his knees, "Let's get ya' home, bud."

The Pocky's beady eyes reflect the hedgehog’s soft smile. Blinking slowly.

[blueblurchecksin]

*I bestow upon thee a cool sword.*

A tall cardboard tube perches against the red mailbox. Dense straps reinforcing its frame.

A spiky silhouette curtain over the rustic, bolted wall behind them. Sonic plants a hand to his hip and arches his brow.

He grabs the edge of the packaging and rotates it. He plants his sneaker into the gravel. One hand yields a strap, the other curves into the box seam.

Sonic yanks it apart, packing paper erupting. He holds his tongue between his teeth and grabs the object by its firm handle. Bubble wrap crinkles beneath his gloved fingers.

He emerges a densely wrapped sword.

Sonic's mouth parts to a silent sound. The weapon a light weight against his palm. The blade outreaches his height.

He strips away the bubble wrap. His thumb tracing the engraved handle, the steel bolts along its wing swept hilt.

Sonic discards foam, oil paper and padding on the blade's point.

He proposes the sword outwards. Sunlight tracing the wide butcher-like blade and the Dadao-like taper.

He skims his palm along the edge, the cotton slicing. His brows raise.

Sonic sets it against the wall and gathers the litter. Humidity clinging sweat to his spines as he breaks down the box.

Retrieving the sword, he steps back from the workshop.

Sonic anchors the sword parallel to his torso, a slight bend to his knees.

His hand holds above the handle, the other below the hilt.

He pivots on his hip. The blade sweeps in a wide arch. His body curves as it slices over his head. Looping over his opposing shoulder.

The wind whips. Gravel grinds against his soles.

His arms cross, the trajectory swerving counter clockwise. He follows the rotation. A dancing blue veil. The blade skims across the points of his spines. The weight flexes through his back.

He halts. The sword posed behind him, elbows bent.

Sonic's lip quirks up. His eyes dart around and settle on a tree stump on the edge of the clearing. He bolts across the yard in a spark of blue. The blade snaking through the gravel.

He launches forward and cleaves the blade over his shoulder. The wood splits. Rings engraved.

Sonic takes a breath and yanks it out.

He springs, and flips, the sword hacks. He thrusts it into the air in short jabs.

Laughter bubbles over the yard. Crescendos of cackles. Warm air weaves its fingers through the canopies. Clouds embracing the blue sky.

Sonic's heart pulsates, a welcoming burn in his arms. He stabs the blade into the earth and folds his arms over the handle. A drop of sweat rolls down his muzzle.

His voice is a soft breeze, a smile held in ponds, "Still got it."

[blueblurchecksin]

Dear FTA (Fastest Thing Alive), I never thought about you having hobbies outside of maybe traveling. I assumed you wouldn't really have the patience to sit down and learn something. But Tails mentioned stencils and spray paint. Do you often do graffiti or custom artwork? Do you have any other hobbies you're passionate about? It just really got me thinking.

Sincerely, a fan.

Slumped against the metal plating, arms loose at his sides, Sonic's head bobs with his breaths. Soft puffs leaving him.

His ear twitches. The latch of the mailbox opens, the hinges creaking.

Sonic's muzzle twitches, gums tugging. A hint of teeth. His nose bunches.

Gravel crunches beneath boots.

Sonic's eyes open, catching the postman's figure descending back into the forest.

He pushes himself up to a stand and leans against the mailbox. Tucking his ankles. His hand retrieves the envelope from within. Peeling it open.

Sonic stifles a yawn behind his palm, "I do custom stuff, yeah." He scratches his temple with the note, "Laze around the beach…"

His eyes widen. Sunlight dance across peridots.

Blue smudges against the wall. Swirling over the mailbox.

Sonic snaps back, the air sizzling. In his arms, he cradles acoustic guitar. A rich rosewood against his cobalt fur.

He tilts his head back and drapes the strap over his shoulder. It anchors the neck in a tilt. His fingers rest on the fret board, his opposing strums the strings in a swift upwards motion. The sound huffs, raspy and robust.

His ear twitches. He strums again.

Sonic nods once and straightens his posture.

He plucks an open fourth string, a warm thrum carries like campfire smoke.

He plucks the fourth string. Another with his finger indenting the second fret. A bassy E on a third fret.

Sonic closes his eyes. His fingers crawl against the fret board like the legs of a spider. The strings catch the cotton edge of his gloves.

The notes are a distant cityscape layered in skyscrapers. Of rustic green construction sites clinking beneath his sneakers. Of stars crowding until the sky itself is an afterthought.

Sonic's foot bounces against the gravel. One, two. One, two.

He withdraws from the E string on a third fret, a rumbling diminuendo of a memory put to rest once more.

Wind rustles the forest canopies across the yard. His opens his eyes.

Sonic retrieves the note from his cuff and tucks it between the strings.

He thumbs the guitar's curve. Tracing the polish finish.

[blueblurchecksin]

Say your famous line, Sonic.

A buzzing hum competes with the sharp orchestra of chirping Flickies. Dried vines and moss web around the trunks of trees.

The front door slides open with a pneumatic hiss. The patio wood groans beneath the footfalls of heavy boots.

Tails plops down beside Sonic, his namesakes drape limply off the curve of the step. Shoulders hunching. He arches his goggles up his head, pushing back his bangs.

Tails huffs.

"You too, bud?" Sonic thwacks a tube package to his gloved palm.

Tails gestures his stained glove towards the hillside. The cliffs edge peering over the vast ocean, "I thought living next to water would keep us cool."

Sonic twists open his tumbler and props it between his knees, "Better then Sandopolis Zone." He rips open the package, flicking the fine electrolyte powder inside.

A grimace of a smile finds Tails. He scratches his muzzle fur, "It could've been a good setup spot. It was pretty close to the Master Emerald."

Sonic twists the cap back on. He jolts his arm, an aurora borealis smear of white and blue. Ice rattling.

Tails tilts his head, "It got cooler at night."

Sonic gestures the tumbler towards him, "I'll take the humidity."

Tails cups it in both hands. The cold seeps into the synthetic leather. He takes a sip, eyelids relaxing.

Sonic hops up and tucks his arms behind his head. Forearms nestled between his spines. The gravel crunches beneath his soles.

He stops in front of his red mailbox. A scar tracing the dome. He kicks the stand the metal grunts in annoyance. The latch falls open and he retrieves a single envelope.

Sonic yanks it open, tearing it down the middle. The letter burst from within. He unfolds it. Sonic's brow arches at the request.

A narrow grin spread across his muzzle. He swerves on his heel, dust splitting.

Sonic hollers, "Yo, Tails!"

The fox kits' ears veer towards him. "What's the number one rule?"

The hazy sunlight reflects in Tails' blue eyes. He releases the straw, his voice rising in a rasp, "When in doubt!" He shoots an index towards the sky, "Kick 'em in the shins!"

Sonic throws a thumbs up, "Atta-boy!"

He folds up the note into a botch triangle and makes his way back to the steps.

Dew drops clinging on his spines.

[blueblurchecksin]

How old were Tails and you when you two met? Did you struggle to take care of him?

A blue streak bursts through a sun-baked valley. Dried shrubbery bowing in its wake. It slams into a sharp L. Catapulting up the rocky slope of a mountain. Dust billows behind it. Splitting through a halo of fog.

Sonic grabs the edge and whips his legs over his shoulder. Flipping onto the cliffs landing.

"Hup!" He lands in a crouch.

He stands and pulls out a letter held between his teeth, the envelope indented by front punctures. He tears it open, unraveling the note. Dirt grits beneath his soles.

"Tails was eight." Sonic's voice echoes. He rocks his hand in the air, "I was fourteen, fifteen."

Sonic drops down and sits. Draping his leg over the cliff edge, he kicks it back and forth, "Can't complain. He's a good kid."

He rolls up the note, "He used to-"

Sonic eyes dart back and fourth, his spines blurring at the edges. He searches the overcast sky, tracing the distant shapes. The wind sways his cobalt fur.

The wrinkle between his brow irons out. Sonic thumbs his nose and stuffs the note into his cuff. He rocks his shoulders back, kicking up to a stand.

Sonic steps back. Pebbles rolls and skid over the edge. He front flips off the cliff. He pivots mid-air, a ribbon of blue descends.

"WOO-HOOOO!" His voice carries like a crowd.

Arms outstretch. His body narrows. Fog engulfs him.

[blueblurchecksin]

Hey, Blue boi, I've always wondered what's the fastest you've ever run? They say you can run faster than the speed of sound or Mach 1. But can you really go that fast? If you ever have, what was the reason? - Signed, Anonymous.

Curtains of rain pelts against the workshop. Drizzling down the curve of the red mailbox.

Shadows of streaks dance across the kitchen island, littered in circuit boards and motor modules.

The door hinges groan, the surveillance box strobes red. A half second of thrumming muffles.

Sonic steps into the kitchen, the earthy smell of petrichor accompanying him. He shakes his head, his spines flailing. Vibrations run down his shoulders to his waist. Droplets spray across the wood floor.

He shakes out his foot, his blade-sole shoe a festive smear of red and white.

Sonic rips open a blotchy envelope and pulls out the letter.

A grin finds his face, "Faster than police radars."

He leans against the kitchen island and folds his ankles, "My last pace test was 770 somethin'." He shrugs.

He folds up the note, "My top speed was Hyper. Can't say how fast, though." His eyes searching.

Thunder rumbles, light illuminates between the blinds. He glances back down to the stacked note and nods once. The wood creaks beneath his footfalls as he exists the kitchen.

[blueblurchecksin]

Dear Sonic,

Why do you like chili dogs so much?

The jungle hillside buzzes with the warm drone of insects. A mailman approaches Tails' workshop, his boots crunching against the gravel pathway.

He emerges an envelope from his letter bag and grabs the steel latch of a bold red mailbox.

A blue smear screams past him. The letter dissipates from his finger tips.

The mailman jolts. His head snaps towards the retreating haze.

"Thank you!" Sonic hollers over his shoulder.

The mailman blinks, his glasses askew on his nose. His fur wind swept.

Sonic races through the congestion of trees. He dives beneath a thick branch. His body pivots, foliage erupts around his dancing spines.

Sonic rips open the envelope, the edges tearing down the side like water in sand.

He digs his heels into the soil, eyes tracing the fine printed letter. Skidding a small dust cloud, he comes to a stop.

Sonic sighs through his nose. A small smile finds his face. "Chili dogs aren't my favorite food."

The envelope crinkles in his palm, "I just always get caught with 'em."

Sonic folds the letter into uneven squares, "They're fun to eat." He tucks it into the cuff of his glove. "I like the flavor stackin'."

He bends his knees and throws his arms back, "Quick for on the go."

Sonic bolts forward. Flickies scatter from the dark canopy in a flutter of blues and pinks.

[blueblurchecksin]

Sonic’s Mailbox: Introduction Post

Soil crunches beneath Sonic's blade-sole shoes, a thick humidity clings to his spines. He plants a hand on his hip, "Thanks for settin' this up, bud. I've been meanin' to get a mailbox."

Tails' ears pivot towards the blue hedgehog, "Well, you can't exactly have one without an address." He steps back from a mailbox perched on a reinforced stilt.

He faces Sonic, his namesake swaying, "You sure this isn't dangerous?"

Sonic waves his gloved hand, "What'd they gonna do? Send me speedin' tickets?"

Tails brows furrow. Sonic drops his hand from his hip and steps forward. He sets it on the fox kit's shoulder, his voice lowering, "If I didn't think this was cool. Would I put it in front of your house?"

He tilts his head to catch Tails' blue eyes, a brow raised.

Tails' tugs the hem of his stained gloves, "Well, when you put it like that…" A small smile finds his face, "I guess it doesn't sound so bad."

Sonic glances to the mailbox and cups his muzzle, "Its a bit borin' though." He makes a gesture over the dome, "Could use a coat of paint."

Tails' ears perk up, "I still have your stencils." He shrugs one shoulder, "Though the cans are probably old."

Sonic nods once, pivoting on his feet. His spines smearing at the edges, "Then I'll just make a dash for some more." He juts a thumb towards the mailbox, "Think you could watch this while I'm gone?"

Tails gives him a thumbs up, "You got it."

Sonic reciprocates with his own. He crouches onto one knee, fingers splaying across the soil. Tails blocks his face with his arms.

Sonic tears forward, wind cracking. Spearing through the mist. A blue bullet snakes through the jungle. Green canopies tremble in his wake.

Tails turn back to the mailbox and tilt the carrier signal flag down. He pulls his goggles over his eyes, approaching the open doors of the garage.

How does this blog work?

Unlike a traditional ask blog, the gimmick is that each Ask is mail. A physical media Sonic reacts to. Instead of blogging, Sonic is in an interactive environment that changes with the seasons and occasionally will have other characters (Specifically Tails) show up in. Since he is a transient, he didn't really have a place of residence to set up this mailbox. So, it's at Tails' workshop in Mystic Ruins. He will occasionally show up to check on it. Tails will skim through them if he forgets or it's getting too full. What version of Sonic is this?

This is my personal interpretation influenced by a variety of the older Sonic media I grew up with. (e.g: Sonic 1-3: He is an environmentalist and an animal rights activist. The animals in Sonic's world are called Critters. Adventure games/Sonic X/Sonic and Tails R: He has a rebellious streak against authority figures that obstruct freedom. Sonic and the Secret Rings/Archie: He has a casual, unintentional heroic demeanor. Who expresses his emotions through physical actions rather than words. And much more minor influences.) Casual, reckless compassion, and effortlessly cool. Sonic is the embodiment of breezy with a touch of attitude. Who thinks just as fast as he moves. Mailbox Guidelines

No anon magic/physically interacting with the character(s).

Any and all Asks are welcomed, but try to keep them from being NSFW.

Your Ask doesn't need to be framed as a letter, but if you would like to lean into that theme: Dear, Sonic (Or nicknames) (Text) - (Anon name/preferred name)

Gifts are allowed. They will be presented in the post as an actually wrapped gift or letter depending on the item. You can describe how it's shipped if you'd like to.

Roleplay is welcomed, even if it's an alternative universe Sonic. (Roleplay in this context means writing a letter as another Sonic character or OC.)

OOC

This blog will primarily be in-character but I may occasionally post drafts. I want to keep it as a creative space without being too present. I might not answer Asks directed towards me but just in case, you can call me Blur. Tags

#sonicfanmail

#blurspeaks

#tailschecksin