#I figured Sonic would have to carry or drag him somehow

[descendant-of-truth]

My first thought when Shadow said this was "what does he mean, we? Sonic's the only one who can teleport by running fast" and then I realized. Shadow's done that before, too.

And I know for a fact that it wasn't because of Nine's gadgets, because Shadow's already been to Ghost Hill at this point and had to have gotten out somehow in order to fight with Sonic. But he doesn't have any Prism energy like Sonic does, so... how did he do this

The only thing I can think of is that he might have chaos energy instead, but not only has that never been brought up in the show at this point, I'm. not sure if the games ever established that about him either? He got a power boost after taking off his rings in 06, but there were exactly zero lines of dialogue explaining why that happened, so the idea that it's chaos energy is purely speculation.

Shadow. my guy. why can you teleport without a Chaos Emerald just by running fast. what secrets are you hiding

[realperson022]

I got more sonadow content! It's another unfinished piece, but I think it's funny enough to share it :)

Title: Love in Slow Motion

Rating: Teen

Summary: A misunderstanding leads to unexpected decisions and feelings.

"What the hell did I just walk into?" 

Tails wasn't supposed to be home early, but somehow everything was just going downhill since this morning. Today was not shaping up to be one of Sonic's best days, not at all.

"Uhhhh, heeeey buddy," the hero smiled awkwardly, very aware of how his brother's wide eyes were glancing in every direction and seemingly trying to understand why his big bro was stepping out of the hallway bathroom with Shadow at his heels. 

Nope, this wasn't even remotely possible to appear as something the two rivals would do on a random Tuesday afternoon. 

"So…" Tails cleared his throat, blushing at the implications behind the sight in front of him. "Um…I–sorry for interrupting, I r-really didn't mean to–"

Sonic was utterly horrified at this point, watching in embarrassment how Tails avoided his gaze and hastily turned around to head back downstairs. 

"Wait, dude! No, this isn't what—Tails! Come back!" The hero tried to go after his brother, but with his predicament, he didn't get very far. 

"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I'll leave you both alone now!" Tails' hurried words matched the speed at which he bolted out the front door, a slam echoing in the now dead-silent house.

"Well, now your brother assumes there's something between us."

With cheeks still burning up from the embarrassment, the blue hedgehog glanced over his shoulder to glare at his rival. "Wow, really? I hadn't noticed."

Shadow scoffed, "May I remind you it was your fault we ended up like this!"

The agent brought up their handcuffed hands into their line of vision, harshly waving them from side to side for emphasis. 

Sonic growled, tugging his hand back, and as a result, Shadow's too. "Quit it will ya?! And yes, I know! Don't have to rub it in my face every chance you get, jeez."

"Well, get used to it because I'll keep doing it until we figure out a solution," the striped hedgehog grunted, pulling back his hand. 

"I forgot how much of a dick you are."

Another tug in the opposite direction, and another grunt came.

"And I am always reminded of how reckless you are," the hybrid sneered, yanking his hand back. 

Fuming, the hero attempted to make the last move, claiming the final say in this needless discussion. "You know what? No, this thing is our fault. As in, you and me. So you better accept it if ya don't want me to drag your face through the dirt at Mach 1 speed."

Sonic watched as his rival's eyes narrowed dangerously thin, rubies barely peeking from under thick eyelashes. Nothing else came, no verbal response or a flurry of punches to his face. For a brief moment, Sonic thought Shadow finally understood, turning away from the dark hedgehog and thinking of how he would explain to Tails that he got it all wrong.

"Hey–! What the hell?!" Sonic was tackled to the ground from behind, groaning when he felt pain shoot up his nose at colliding with the floor unceremoniously.

"How dare you–" Shadow grunted, trying to climb on top of the hero while maneuvering their handcuffed hands to an angle that gave the agent the upper hand. "Tell me what to do!"

Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough and his weight was pushed off the speedster, growling as Sonic mirrored his attack. 

"You're really getting on my nerves, dude. Stop this before we actually get hurt!" The blue hero gritted his teeth, fighting against the hybrid's wrestling hands—well, hand. Pinning someone to the ground when you shared a limb with them was difficult. 

This went back and forth, pushing to be on top and rolling across the hallway floor a second later. Their argument didn't carry many words except for their names and the occasional curse, but their grunts of effort were heard throughout the house. Eventually, they reached the end of the hallway, emerald eyes noticing too late as Shadow rolled on top of Sonic. 

"Wait, Shadow! We're gonna–"

Staring down the blue hedgehog with a venomous glare, the agent snarled, pinning fawn hands to the ground. "I'll make you eat those words, hedgehog."

Not wanting to receive a nasty punch to the face, Sonic glanced around at his surroundings, quickly realizing the only way to dodge it was to twist away as his handcuffed hand lifted from the floor as Shadow readied his into a fist. 

"Damn it, Shadow," was all that Sonic breathed out as he shoved at the white chest with a harsh push. 

Then, they were falling down the stairs.

The clinking of their metal cuffs rang loudly as they tumbled to the first floor, groaning and left with aching backs. So much that the anger and determination to fight had left their systems, too tired to do anything but lay there on the floor.

In a rather compromising position, however. 

They didn't notice until the front door opened again, the fox reentering to freeze upon seeing the two hedgehogs resting there just a few feet before him. 

"Oh my god…"

A blue ear twitched at hearing the familiar voice.

"Tails? Buddy?"

Sonic perked up, raising his upper body to glance at his brother with a wide smile. "Tails! You came back–" he thought this was his opportunity to clear things up, but as everything that's been happening today, it all went sideways. 

"Soooonic," Shadow's groan came loud and throaty from where he lay under the blue hero. 

It was then that Sonic noticed how exactly his brother found them. Was the world against him today or what? He couldn't help but think so as he closed his eyes and let his shoulders sag, defeatedly. He was cradling his rival's lap, the striped hedgehog nestled quite intimately between his blue legs and his arms caging an ebony torso, and if that wasn't the worse yet, the fox's next observation was.

"Are those…handcuffs?" Tails gawked at the silvery thing wrapped around both hedgehogs' wrists. 

"Look, bro. You got this all wrong—me and Shadow were just–"

"I interrupted you again, didn't I? Ohmygod. I'm so sorry, Sonic. I just came back for—you know what, I'll just stay with Amy for today and leave you–"

Staring at the fox with wide eyes, the hero scrambled to inform him of his misunderstanding, of everything being thrown out of proportion, but Shadow's next words did not help.

"Fuck, Sonic…You pushed too hard again."

A hot blush bloomed across the fox's muzzle at hearing the Ultimate Lifeform's words, seeing him lean up with his arms braced on the carpeted floor. And because their hands were restrained, the little movement had Sonic stumbling forward to be inches away from Shadow's dazed face. 

"Dude, seriously?" 

Shadow raised an eye ridge at noting his rival's flushed face and looked away to see the fox standing by the front door, sporting the same color across his face as his brother. 

This was perfect timing for Shadow to clarify things for the hero's brother, maybe even going as far as throwing in a hefty speech as to why he would never see Sonic in that way. 

The blue hedgehog wished that had been going through his rival's mind as he waited impatiently for the agent to say something to Tails. He almost thought of doing a head start for Shadow when finally the striped hedgehog spoke. Definitely, not favoring Sonic's wishes. 

"Hmm, learn to knock unless you want to see something you shouldn't next time."

No. No. Nononono! 

Realization dawned on the hero, paling immediately at checking his bro's face for his reaction and oh god, why was Shadow doing this?! They just had a whole fight about this! Now, the hybrid was feeding these scandalous insinuations—did the fall do some serious damage to the Ultimate Lifeform's head?

"U-uhm…I'mma head out now…" Tails was beet red, coughing awkwardly and shying away from both hedgehogs' gazes. 

"Tails, wait! Don't go–Miles!" It was fruitless, the speedster watched in mixed horror and humiliation as his best friend zoomed out the front door almost at a speed similar to his. 

"I thought you taught him some manners, at least."

Hearing the mirthful comment on Shadow's part, one of Sonic's eyes twitched and his lips curled into a nasty snarl. 

"Why did you do that?!" The speedster snapped at his dark counterpart, one of his hands reflexively curling into a tight fist. He was seconds away from wiping away that stupid smirk off Shadow's face, regardless of knowing the violence wouldn't go unpunishable and he'd end up in the same position as his striped rival later into the day. 

"I dragged your face through the dirt. Metaphorically, of course."

Gawking, Sonic took a few seconds to properly process his rival's words, blinking rapidly once a conclusion settled over him. 

"Wh…that—are you serious? Payback? Really, Shadow? You understand this doesn't make things any better for you too, right?" The hero sighed, exasperated by the hybrid's scheme. 

Shadow shrugged, a smirk still plastered across his lips. "It was worth it. Besides, if your brother spreads the news about us, it'll get Rouge off my back about going out on a date with Silver–"

"Silver? Wait, you're dating?" 

The dark hedgehog noticed how a frown came across the hero's face, his blue ears drooping slowly. If the agent didn't know any better, it appeared the news of his personal life dampened Sonic's mood. 

"No, but Rouge is persistent about it. That woman and her nosy habits," Shadow rolled his eyes at remembering his friend's failures to convince him to go out with someone. 

"Sooo…you're not dating?"

The agent dared to make the hero wait, observing closely how emerald eyes flickered between two things; hope and disappointment.

"Not yet."

It was an implication, a reminder that it was only a matter of time before the dark hedgehog was taken. For Shadow's first intimate conversation, first embrace, first kiss, and all that came with first dates to be stolen by someone else regardless of the love being there, or not. Because even a creature like Shadow was tempted to get a taste of all that, a bit of what a life like with someone at his side could be. 

However, it seemed Sonic wasn't so willing for his rival to go around and do that with just anyone. And maybe it was the protective side he had for his friends in him that made him act, or…it was more. Something else that went beyond the thought of helping Shadow. 

Sonic didn't know exactly, but he was taking his opportunity. "What…what if we do tell people we're dating?" The hero spoke, avoiding crimson eyes directly. 

Shadow almost laughed, amused by his rival's awkwardness. 

"Weren't you just against it, hedgehog?" 

Chuckling nervously, Sonic shrugged and looked down to meet Shadow's eyes before shifting his gaze to the front door. 

"Well, yeah but like you're onto something with the whole fake relationship thing."

Oh, of course. Shadow should have known. It was obvious there wasn't any other ulterior motive for the hero to agree to something like this. 

"I assume you're speaking of your situation with Rose," the agent barely held back the instinct to roll his eyes at the mention of the pink hedgehog. One way or another, from his mouth or Sonic's, the girl's name always popped into the conversation, leaving a palpable tension between the rivals. 

It wasn't necessarily the bad kind, but its simple existence was a constant variable in their friendship. An invisible wall that grew thicker with every advance Rose took in pursuing Sonic.

[werewolf-cl4ws]

Random head cannons for my AU because these require oddly specific questions I don’t think I’ve ever seen ask memes have.

A lot of these I do have something to back them up with, but others it's just logical hilarity to me because I can.

Kitty!Sonic:

- absolutely mistrusts/gets annoyed by anyone that is an "authority figure" (i.e. adults "in charge", leaders, etc) but does nothing to actually be useful. As a kid he was always told to listen to the adults because "they know best", but after the coup and seeing a good number of adults doing everything in their power to just save their own hides or hiding, it fucked him right off. Only adults he’s ever respected were his uncle and Rosie (Rosie took some time to gain that trust though because why the hell is she teaching us maths when people need help???). Bookshire is another but he does fight Bookshire on occasion because Sonic hates fussing with medical stuff.

This carried on into his own adulthood, and it’s hilarious whenever someone points out he’s the adult now as it sets off his aversion to being older, but if he has to be called an adult then damnit he’s gonna be a USEFUL one at least.

And yes he has confirmed on many occasions that he can and will flip off King Acorn if he plays up. What's he gonna do, ground him? Arrest his for treason? He flipped off Robotnik, he ain't scared of no thing.

- his uncle was brilliant with robotics and mechanics and science. Sonic has literally zero idea about any of those. And yet he’s weirdly good at chemistry. But he doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to use this so no one knows this, but Rotor has come by chemistry formulas mysteriously solved if he leaves them out on his workbench after a night of wracking his brains over why something isn’t working. How does Sonic know this? Nobody knows, Sonic will never tell either, and will deny he’s even good at it.

- he’s also very good at physics, in that he knows exactly how to break physics to do impossible shit. He’s great at figuring out just what angles he needs to shoot himself into to get the most air time, how much speed and lift to land in the exact spot, etc. It all happens automatically to him (it has to, going at the speeds he does there’s literally no time to plan this shit) but if someone asks him he will actually figure it out in the spot with freakishly good accuracy, and can do it not just with him being the projectile but any object (he has worked out perfect catapult trajectories before and it still baffles everyone to this day). Again, he doesn’t know how he knows this, will never tell anyone he knows how to do this, and will deny he knows this.

- he’s also good with musical instruments. Obviously his favourite is the electric guitar, but if you give him a sheet of music and at least an hour to mess around with the instrument he’ll work it out. Getting to watch him play the violin is a rare but delightful treat. This is his special interest, the thing he would have gotten into if the world hadn’t gone to shit. He doesn’t get to indulge in it as much as he’s like but he loves music and could ramble about it for hours on end if given the chance.

The con of this though is that he's really good at identifying music, including ones from operas and orchestras. Sally takes great delight in making him identify both because he does get embarrassed about it, but his pride doesn't allow him to just not pick them out.

- he likes to cook, but he prefers recipes that allow him to leave things to cook without him needing to watch it once it’s prepared. So baking, roasting, slow cook stuff like soups and chili, that’s his jam. Anything that’s gonna be a long haul he has to be basically trapped in his hut to do it without wanting to go nuts (so extra cold days where being outside would be hell are good cooking days).

- during the summer he sleeps in a hammock. During the winter he sleeps in a bed and practically buries himself in blankets.

- loves bubblegum. Gum balls, sticks of gum, whatever. If it’s gum he loves it. Unfortunately it is non existent thanks to the coup (shelf life of gum is terrible) so finding any that’s not terrible is an amazing day.

- milk and cookies is oddly a comfort food to him. Something about the simplicity of it just works for him, and ridiculously shit days are made better by it. Default choc chip cookies work best.

- he hates spiders. More specifically, he hates when you see a spider, look away, then look back only to find the spider is gone. Spiders themselves don’t bother him until they do that, but once they do he has to fight himself to not just set whatever building or dwelling he happens to be on fire in order to solve the issue of having to deal with it later.

- he’s about .0001 seconds away from just walking away into the forest and never coming back. He won’t do it because he honestly doesn’t want to abandon his friends… but he’s so close to just becoming a cryptic in the forest. He has wandered off before when things get super annoying, but someone always drags him back, much to his endless frustration.

Sally:

- can’t cook for anything. Sonic has seen her burn water. Toast somehow always ends in fire. No one ever attempt to drink her coffee for your own sake.

And yet somehow she makes really, really good pancakes. Like ridiculously good. She makes them very rarely because she’s always busy with something and has been banned from all kitchens, but when she does they’re amazing and no one can figure out how this happens.

- if she’s snacking on nuts or anything that doesn’t go soggy (like hard/dry fruits, or extra crusty breads) she will sometimes keep some in her cheeks. Not to the point that her cheeks will be bulging with them, but if she’s working while snacking she will just stash some away so she can focus on what she’s doing, and then when she’s done just finishes those off. This only happens when she needs to focus so she’s pretty discreet about this and has perfected talking/quick chewing with them if someone interrupts her.

- she loves video games, but because they’re so hard to come by thanks to the coup she doesn’t get to play as often as she’d like. She knows Sonic, Tails and Rotor has some stashed away and has played them on the sly, which has left them wondering how their high scores got beaten or how new levels have been unlocked. Though she has to be careful about this because if she’s left alone with them long enough she will just play them until either she finishes the game, or someone physically drags her away from it. This is probably her only weak point in terms of something that can just pull her away entirely from everything.

- she is very, very neat… only because she literally doesn’t make a mess of anything thanks to her one-track mind. If she’s working on a plan or something that needs a lot of research she will basically just make a pathway to her desk and bed and leave everything else undisturbed. She will still shower, only because the shower is just another place for her to think without interruption. This is a big factor on why she can’t cook for shit, too. She just… doesn’t. At all. Because she’s gotta work. Work is life because they may literally die if she can’t figure plans out

- she is genuinely fascinated by legends and myths, which we see a lot of in SatAM. Although she does sometimes dismiss some legends or myths as just stories, if she finds anything that even hints at it being real, and if time allows it, she will chase it down. If it’s anything that might be especially useful in their fight she will go for it after doing a ton of research to make sure she’s got every angle and possibility down. The researching to that extent is due to her own perfectionism, but also because if the expedition turns out to be a bust it could mean time that should have been spent on something else/time being away from the village for a crapshoot.

Sonic and Sally as a couple:

- they don’t use pet names for one another… until one of them is absolutely pushing their luck with the other. Pet names = stop it.

- Sally did once call Sonic a shit-weasel out of anger during such a scenario, and then was immediately apologetic for it because that was Too Far™. Sonic said that made him fall in love with her all over again and it was an awesome insult. Pet names are still a no-go though.

- they live together and everyone thinks it’s Sonic that would be the nightmare to live with.

It’s not.

It’s Sally.

Sonic does get messy and likes to live in organised chaos, but Sally just has the worst sleeping habits (she doesn’t sleep), functions mostly on auto-pilot (the amount of times she eats the last of something but leaves the box it came in/was stored in for Sonic to find drives him up the wall something shocking all because she’s just vaguely thinking "I need food I suppose" alongside whatever she’s doing at the time), and if she’s working on something big she will spread herself everywhere (including Sonic’s bed if he isn’t in it or on it in some way).

Sonic won’t move out because he genuinely thinks if he did Sally would never sleep at proper hours or eat like a regular person unless he monitors her. Plus they actually really do like each other’s company and do miss one another if they aren’t in the same space in their down time. But Sonic is constantly amazed at just how much of a gremlin Sally can be and no one believes him.

- Sally takes great delight in this and amps up her gremlin behaviour because of it. If she does this in front of anyone else it just gets encouraged. It’s okay though because Sonic knows how to be a bastard so it’s a constant battle of who can out bastard or out gremlin who.

- they sleep separately (see aforementioned sleeping habits of gremlin ground squirrel), but on occasion will share a bed. Or share the couch. Sharing will almost always result in Sonic being used as a pillow/mattress but he’s fine with it, as long as it means Sally’s sleeping and they get to cuddle ‘cause cuddling is great.

- Sally loves puns. Sonic has begged her not to say puns. He secretly loves them but he hates that he gets them (temporarily forgetting your own language, then relearning it is a trip and picking up the puns does things to his head). Sally does not stop the puns. This has led to Sonic almost achieving his goal of becoming a forest cryptic as he does just start walking out when she starts.

- this is kinda canon but I like to joke that they are actually legally married and this happened during their zone-hopping adventures. But the marriage itself happened in the most mundane way for the most mundane reason, and yet it is legally binding and they do actually have wedding rings from it. They don’t wear the rings but they do carry it on their person at all times, and pull them out just to blindside people with them because it’s funny.

[eyayah-oya]

Carry You With Me Always

Buckle up everyone, because I have three prompts today!

Cloneship Week 2021 - Tattoos - @cloneshipweek

Rex/Echo

Rating: G

Warnings: very vague references to something bad happening to Tup and Dogma in the past

Ao3 link--Ao3 has some world building notes about Tup, Dogma, and Mom Echo if you want to check those out!

           Lazy days were Echo’s favorite.  They always had been.  Especially the days when Rex didn’t have to be a commander masquerading as a captain.  (Echo still didn’t understand how hard it was to sign off on a promotion for Rex. Skywalker knew how to sign his own name.)  It was the third day of leave on Coruscant, just when the duties required of the commanding officers tapered off to allow them time off just like their men.

           Rex entered the officer barracks with two cups of caf and a datapad tucked under his arm.  He must have recently taken a water shower, as he looked cleaner than the sonics were able to achieve.  For a moment, Echo mourned the opportunity to shower with Rex but they figured there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.

           “Morning,” Echo called, their voice deep and raspy from sleep.

           He looked up, though Echo noted he didn’t actual startle. Rex only got that jumpy when he hadn’t been sleeping, so he at least got some rest since the 501st arrived on Coruscant.  That was good.  Echo had been worried when Rex hadn’t shown up the past two nights to the bunk they shared when not on the Resolute.

           A warm smile, reserved just for Echo, softened Rex’s face and filled Echo with happiness.  “Morning, Echo,” he responded.  With ease, he set the two caf cups down on his desk without spilling a drop, the datapad following immediately after.  Then, with slumped shoulders and tired eyes, he fell onto the bed beside Echo and nuzzled their shoulder.

           “Meetings go badly?” they mused as ran their fingers across the closely cropped blonde hair.

           “Eh, not too bad.  Just long.  General Mundi preached about the value of life again and Gree got into an argument with General Fisto over some obscure plant the 41st found on their last campaign.  I think if they’d been in the same room, it would have become a physical fight.”

           Echo snorted.  “That would definitely be interesting to watch.  What did General Unduli do?”

           “I’m 90% sure she was either sleeping standing up, or talking to General Kenobi telepathically.  Kenobi kept snickering every once in a while, so I wouldn’t put it past them.”  Rex shook his head as best as he could from where his face was smooshed against Echo’s shoulder.  “Anything big happen with the boys?”

           “Denal and Attie got arrested again.  I’m pretty sure they’re trying to court the intake officer in the Corrie’s brig.  I escorted Dogma and Tup around the city the first day and ended up taking them to Tatta. You know, the vod who gives the best tattoos?”

           Rex hummed in acknowledgment.  “Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure, but I’ve heard he’s one of the best on Coruscant.  Did Tup and Dogma end up getting any tattoos?”

           “Tup got a little tear below his eye and Dogma got a really cool one over his face.  Kix is gonna have a conniption when he sees that; you know how he is with large facial tattoos,” Echo said with amusement.  “Dogma struggled a bit at first, but Tup talked him through his anxiety and held his hand.”

           “That’s good.  I’ll make sure to pair them up on campaigns.  Aren’t they twins?”

           Echo nodded.  While not numerous, there were several sets of twins in the GAR.  Commanders Thire and Thorn in the Corrie Guard, Kix and Captain Keeli, Tup and Dogma, Lupis and Canis in the Wolfpack, and of course Echo and their twin Fives. Commanding officers tried to keep twins together as much as possible, though it doesn’t always happen, like with Kix and Keeli.

           “You could have warned me they were former Corries,” Echo grumbled.  “Technically I was escorting them, but it was mostly them dragging me all over the city. Although, they did take me to this diner with the most amazing nerf burgers.  I’ll have to take you sometime.  They’re sweet kids, but they also could use a lot more support than the average vod. Something happened to them when they were with the Guard.”

           Rex sighed.  “I know. Fox briefed me on their situation. I won’t tell you what happened exactly—they should do that themselves—but it was bad.  We’ll take care of them, I promise.”

           “Good.”  Echo nodded once and wrapped their left arm around Rex’s shoulder and pulled him in closer. Rex flung his own arm back over Echo. Immediately they hissed as their right pec flared with a stinging pain.

           Immediately, Rex sat up in concern.  “Echo?  What’s wrong?”

           Echo grinned sheepishly.  “Well, Tup and Dogma were really nervous to get tattoos since the Guard isn’t allowed to have tattoos.  And I might have gotten a tattoo to help them be more comfortable.”

           “Really?” Rex grinned.  Without hesitation, he gently placed his hand over Echo’s pec, exactly in the same spot he had left a handprint on their first set of armor. He didn’t have to guess what tattoo they had decided to get.  Echo arched into the touch, the sting sharp and pointed and somehow exactly perfect.  “Can I see it?” Rex asked softly.

           “Help me get the shirt off, and yes,” Echo answered. They surged upwards, ignoring the pain from his tattoo, so they could press a heated and soft kiss to Rex’s lips.

With far more reverence than they usually have time for, Rex slid his fingers under the hem of their loose shirt, trailing over the firm muscles and warm skin. Echo shivered deliciously and lightly sucked on his lower lip, rather than help their boyfriend in any way. Inch by inch, more skin was revealed until Rex pulled away to tug the shirt over Echo’s head.  They helped, lifting their arms over their head to allow the shirt to slide free.

           In the exact same placement as their armor, a handprint had been tattooed completely in a darker blue than they used for their armor. The dark blue color the Rishi eel’s blood had been.  The permanent mark on their skin was a bold proclamation of who Echo belonged to.  A way to inform everyone who they went home to and who they would always go back for.  That day on Rishi was life-changing for both of them for more than one reason. It was the day Echo had lost their batchmates, save for Fives, and the day they had both joined the 501st. It was the day Echo had first met Rex, a young shiny who was in awe of the legendary captain.  And it was the day that began Echo’s journey of falling completely in love with the man behind the legend.

           Rex traced the edges of the tattoo gently, barely ghosting over the skin.  It was still swollen and red from the needle, but that would go away in a couple more days. Echo didn’t mind a little bit of pain if it meant they could wear Rex’s mark in his skin as well as their armor.

           “Do you like it?” they asked cheekily, already knowing the answer.

           “I love it.  They did a really good job.  Does it hurt a lot?” Rex asked.

           Echo wobbled his head from side to side.  “A little, but it’s not bad.  Barely noticeable, really.”

           “Good.”  And with that, Rex pressed his hand against the mark and pushed Echo back onto the bed until he was leaning directly over them.  “Because I need to show you exactly how much I like it.”

           They eagerly reached up and wrapped their arms around Rex’s neck, pulling him down against them, though they both were careful not to dislodge his hand from its place on Echo’s chest.  Echo pressed their forehead against Rex’s, letting them bask in the peaceful moment instead of the hurried seconds they only managed to snatch while out on the front.  Eventually, the keldabe shifted to the more traditional type of kissing, their tongues tangling together languidly.  They had all day and the rest of the tenday to relax and enjoy.  They could take their time, and Echo couldn’t be happier.

           “I love you,” they whispered between kisses.

           “I love you, my eyayah.  My Echo with my mark,” Rex answered before diving back into their mouth and showing them exactly how much he needed and loved them.

           Echo shivered with delight, the intimacy of the moment barricading everything else from the Captain’s quarters.  For a time, they existed in a bubble, cut off from the galaxy and perfectly at peace together.

           Then, the bubble popped.

           “Does the Captain really have to know?  I mean, it’s not like he’d be surprised.”

           “Fives, don’t be an idiot.  You know he always needs to know when we brawl with the Wolfpack so he can keep Commander Wolffe from killing us.”

           “But if we go in there, Echo will kill us.”

           “I’d rather die by Echo’s hand than by Commander Wolffe’s! He’s scary!”

           “Oh, lighten up, Jesse!  I wouldn’t mind fighting with the Commander!”

           “ . . . Hardcase . . . “

           “What?  It’s true!”

           “I’m gonna tell him!”

           “Fives, don’t you dare!”

           With matching, heavy sighs, Echo and Rex broke apart and turned to the door.  Yes, Echo loved lazy days.  But those days never lasted long, and they loved their brothers just as much.

           “I’ll go deal with Hardcase’s unacknowledged romantic feelings for Commander Wolffe.  You need to get some sleep,” Echo said, giving Rex a soft kiss on the cheek as they grabbed their t-shirt.  “Think I can make Jesse prefer he’d faced the Commander?”

           Rex smirked and flopped down by Echo’s side instead of on top of them.  “I know you will.  I’ll be here when they’re all suitably punished.  Come back and we can finish what we started.”  His eyes were dark with hunger and love, sending a shiver through Echo.  That was a promise they wouldn’t pass up for anything.

           “I’ll be back after I finish wrangling the children.  I’ll probably drag Dogma and Tup along so they can laugh at Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase,” Echo said with a grin.  They pulled their shirt over their head and climbed over Rex to stand up.  “They could use the enrichment.”

           Rex only laughed.  Lazy days really were the best.

[lesserfandomappreciation]

This is probably a tall order, but I was wondering if you could do some general personality headcanons for the Deadly Six from Sonic Lost World? It hurts my heart that the characters weren't more popular, but I can understand why at the same time since they're not that fleshed out. I mean, there's hints of stuff here and there, it's just not much. But the zeti have potential, damn it! Let me know if you want some specifics on things, of if you wanna do this in pieces. Thanks for your time~

WORLD BUILDING! World building and character building is my ham so I’m thrilled to do this! This actually become significantly longer than intended. 

So I have never played this game, so I’m basing this exclusively off a few cutscenes I managed to find and general initial impressions. Let me know if you want something more in-depth!

Deadly Six reimagined (Sonic Lost World)

General

The Zeti race as a whole is referred to as “demons” with the Deadly 6 appearing to be the deadliest of their species. Heavily implied in the game is the fact that the Zeti are a lethal, violent race taking pride in practiced malevolence. 

An entire race being evil or amoral is not only an outdated trope, but one with really icky origins so knackers to that I’m throwing in some of my own world building. 

Based on how the Deadly 6 are all either disciples of or literally Master Zik, the reimagined!Zeti race is less malevolent so much as focused on attainment of glory and recognition. Every person is expected to discipline themselves into a strong, powerful being capable of great achievements. Competition is rampant with rivalry being imposed from a young age. 

Despite rivalry, those who study under a common Master consider themselves as a structured force or clan representing their Master and his/her/their ideology. Master Zik in particular holds the ideology of complete domination of foes and enforcing the strength that already exists. Those who come across his clan often get the impression the Zeti exist to conquer when really, it is only in response to what is done to them to remind people not to mess with them. 

Zeti are driven by the goals of communal recognition; challenges make individuals stronger, thus reinforcing the people as a whole. Spar-matches and challenges are inherent in the society. Clans and individuals alike compete to bring glory. 

But. There is an unspoken rule amongst the Zeti that keeps things from ever turning to a full blood bath. Zeti do not turn against their own Clan or family (both if they are one in the same as is the case with many). The idea of any Zeti attacking a sibling in learning or a relative is unheard of - any who did that are considered dishonorable and risk expulsion as a whole from society. 

Master Zik

Utter the name “Zik” in any Zeti plaza. Previous foes will wilt in cowardice. Pride from their allies puffs up further. The average Zeti, neither friend nor foe, will still be able to share a tale or two of one of the greatest warriors to have ever trained. 

In a society focused on discipline and achieving greatness, Zik went above expectations. Bars he set have but rarely been neared. Until Zavok, most were largely considered impossible to meet. 

Zik is a unique Zeti. Warriors do set Clans up to welcome new students and carry on their name, but Zik is not an easy master. His ideology of domination is standard but his ideas of strength are incredibly unique in a world where weakness is to be quelled and trained away. Zik believes that the inherent strength within an individual should be harnessed instead of ignored. Any skill can be made combative if one knows how to master it completely. 

In all his years Zik took on only a handful of students, with only 5 ever making it into his inner circle and being official members of his Clan. He is not an easy teacher. 

Obstacles are nothing to this little Zeti. He has faced a lifetime of challenges due to his small stature and his unique powers. Strategy, cunning and an overwhelming drive to be strong allowed him to rise above the ranks. Any challenge he faces he knows has a solution - it is a difficult task to actually perturb him to the point of nerves. 

It’s specifically because of his lifetime of difficulties that he taught all his students to eradicate their foes so thoroughly. Too many times his mercy let to more foes than needed. Crush a foe and all they hold dear, and no one will ever come to avenge their broken ashes. 

Zik views himself as a father figure turned advisor to the group. In his heart of hearts, they are his pride and joy. He could not leave them. Bedridden and frail he’s still drag his way alongside them to keep these youngsters of his on the right path. 

Zomom (First Disciple)

Zomom is the eldest of Master Zik’s student, being the first welcomed into Zik’s inner circle. This is a matter of great pride for him and makes him very protective of the others as a result. Zavok holds the title of leader but it is no secret that the eldest of the students holds his fellow disciples close to his heart much how an older brother might view his siblings. 

Zomom knows a lot about the other members of the team. They feel comfortable around him one-on-one, often using him as a quiet listener to talk through their thoughts. 

Zomom is a strange Zeti. By height and strength he should have been a popular choice amongst his people. Yet his lack of common sense and social norms made it difficult to fit into society’s definition of a good warrior. The perceived lack of discipline in terms of food also earned him backlash from others. Emotional manipulation is an effective way of ensuring they didn’t have to fight the giant warrior physically. 

It was his sincerity, his genuine sense of being and wanting to learn, that made Master Zik bring him in as a student, then disciple. Zomom is genuine, true person who could not tell a life to save his life but still tries so hard to survive in a world where lying is viewed as not just acceptable but required in some social circles. Zik saw his food abilities and build, before tailoring his training to include more food intake and improve speed. 

Most affable of the Deadly 6, Zomom may be the butt of the joke at some times but they would all be furious should any harm befall him. Zomom’s willingness to shrug off insults does not sit well with any of them and they will gladly take the place of his vengeful fury to ensure it does not happen again. 

Seeing one or two of the Deadly 6 relaxing with Zomom when they are burned out or want to slow down is common. 

Zazz (The Second Disciple)

This is a case of a master forcibly adopting a feral child than a student asking a master to teach them. Zomom who was there the day Zazz was brought in to be taught is the only one besides Zik who knows why the Master took such a shining to Zazz, though the most he ever says on the matter is “It was like looking at a silly mirror.”

Zazz is almost the perfect Zeti. Intensely strong, with an immense battle-hunger. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more terrifying opponent. The issue lies with that same battle hunger that would make them popular in other circumstances. The whole point of the Zeti’s competitiveness is that it is, somehow, disciplined and the result of self-control/personal growth. Zazz’s entire motivation can be summed up as “because I want to.”

Zazz is very much a wild child turned wild adult with a lot of energy to burn. The ideas of the Zeti bore them a lot - why should they spend time proving himself when everyone’s so much weaker than them? They’d rather be seeking out good opponents or filling theirs time doing things that feed his ever-flickering attention. 

Despite their very intense personality, Zazz is fiercely protective of the clan. They’re the only ones to really indulge Zazz’s wide range of interests and teach them a few of their own. One day they may be with Zeena learning new techniques to make their appearance fiercer, the next they’re in the shadows with Zor learning a shadow technique that will absolutely scare the shit out of Master Zik, this time for sure!

Picks up skills like a dog gets fleas. They’re not a master at any of them but the way they’re able to combine them makes them a fearsome opponent, a lethal prankster and find something to connect over with anyone. 

Zeena (The Third Disciple)

Female-identifying Zeti are held to the same standard as any other Zeti so her presence in the Clan isn’t entirely unexpected. However, many Zeti tend to prefer Clans of their own gender out of comfort or outright preference.

Youngster Zeena, known for her cold intensity, had her pick of the litter in terms of Masters - her tethering abilities made her a powerful long-distance opponent, and her technology skills make her a verifiable weapon powerhouse. Her choice to go for Master Zik was a surprise, but Zik accepted her. 

In truth, she went for Master Zik because she didn’t want to just be a long-distance specialist. She wanted a Master who could hone her abilities to be used in more creative ways. Zomom and Zazz’s successes got her attention.  

With Zik she learned to use her tethering abilities to completely control the field. Able to move quickly, redirect her opponents and load the battle field with her varied arsenal, facing off against Zeena is incredibly difficult. 

Always looking to perfect her abilities as the “Perfect Zeti Fighter” Zeena spends a lot of time perfecting her body to make it superior to other Zeti. Outside of that in her lab she’s developing new weapons with distinct abilities to use in combat. Bouncy bombs, whips with unique charges - she’s offered to create some for the rest of the team, but they’ve only accepted limited help. 

Zeena views herself as the pinnacle of Zeti power, with the ability to do more. She holds the rest of the Deadly 6 to the same standard and is not above offering weapons advice or ways to improve their appearance to terrify their enemies into a stupor. 

Zor (The Fourth Disciple)

Zor was not expected to succeed. There are many ways to be considered a successful Zeti - strength, speed, smarts. Lurking in the shadows is not traditionally viewed as particularly impressive. Zor’s inclination to the shadows made him unpopular in the society.

In turn, this made Zor dislike society as a whole and develop a severe nihilistic attitude that continues to plague him to this day. Why should he trust a system that failed him so badly anyway? It is ultimately pointless. 

Zor didn’t so much as join the Clan as he was chased into the clan. Lurking in his shadows he didn’t know of the tall Zeti whose attention has zeroed in on the very interestingly-moving shadow until Zazz had already begun to give chase. Master Zik hadn’t a clue what to make of the huffy Zeti his Second Disciple had under his arm, but if Zazz saw talent in this one, it was worth exploring. 

Zor’s abilities as a spymaster make him a vital part of the group. His abilities contribute to that but it is his powers of observation and deduction that really lend themselves to this role. Having been a spectator to his society for most of his life, he has developed powerful strategies to collect information at a mass scale - needless to say, trying to keep a secret from him is difficult. 

The main introvert of the group, Zor struggles to be with them all at once. While he likes each one of them just fine (good luck getting him to say that) their overall energy can be overwhelming. He prefers to be with one-three people at a time to preserve his social energy.

Zavok (The Final Disciple)

Societies have ideal standards people strive towards. Often impossible to achieve, they’re viewed more as a lifetime goal than a realistic achievement. Those who do manage to hit it are considered to be above others as they command respect. Amongst the Zeti, that impossible person is Zavok. 

Zavok himself comes from an impressive lineage - all the Zeti before him have been great warriors, commanders, people filling leadership roles. Each generation of greatness placed more expectations upon the next and as an only child, Zavok had no one to share these burdens with. He exceled at them, but it was not the glory he sought. He wanted to great his own reputation free of his past. 

The announcement of Zavok’s self-imposed expulsion from his lineage shook Zeti society to its core. His subsequent request to become Zik’s pupil further shook everyone, but Master Zik did have a penchant for collecting odd students. What was one more lost warrior seeking purpose?

Zavok evolved far beyond anyone could have guessed under Master Zik’s tutelage. Part of this was due to his own upbringing, but it truly was Zavok’s own determination and fast mind that let him adapt to Zik’s unusual forms of training. He wanted to become indomitable and he would do whatever it took to do so.... 

...But, he wasn’t quite perfect.  Zavok is a brilliant minded individual, but upon reaching the inner circle, he realized that he was incredibly unused to working in a group. It took a great deal of time, self-reflection and humbling for him to become the leader he is to do, due in part to his own hang-ups he thought he had left behind with his family. 

With time, he grows to respect each team member and view them as close family. Upon Zik’s retirement and Zavok’s ascension to the head of the Clan, Zavok was the undisputed respected and admired leader of the Clan, holding each of them in high regard and daring anyone to try and take what they had built. 

[isis-astarte-diana]

Milk and Honey: Day 3

Day 1 ‖ Day 2 ‖ Day 3 (Fin)

Summary: “I think we need to talk about yesterday.” Inches are lost; miles are gained; things are said that can’t be unsaid.

Warnings: Tiny bit of non-sexual nudity and also, separately, a sexual reference. Dodgy dynamics (I tried to fix them!). Angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3880

NB: This chapter was such a struggle to figure out and I think it shows (!!) but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Also, yes, I did write another ‘Missy and reader watching a horror film’ scene, and no, I won’t apologise for it. (Maybe there should be a seasonal Hallowe’en film night fic?) I consider this the end of the story!

You think it’s the rain that’s woken you.

It’s deafening against the window, a downpour that floods the road outside so that the sound of each passing car is turned into a crashing wave. The room is black as pitch. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust and make forms of the shadows.

“Go back to sleep.”

Missy’s voice close behind you makes you jump. You twist around awkwardly, tangling your legs in the duvet, and almost smack your face into her elbow. She’s reclining on top of the sheets beside you. In the inky gloom you can just make out the pillows propping her up against the headboard, the open book she holds in her lap.

What time is it? The first hazy thought shakes loose in your mind. Almost immediately afterwards, how long has she been awake?

What comes out is thick and groggy. “Too dark to read.”

“Hmm.” It’s not quite a chuckle. She turns the page, a slow, rasping sound near your ear. “Is it dark to you?”

There’s something low and melancholic in her voice that makes you frown. You try to sit up, propping yourself up with one arm, but the duvet pulls tight and stops you halfway. You’d hoped to see her face better by moving; the shadows give no such clarity. She’s featureless in the dark.

“Go back to sleep,” she says again, not waiting for an answer. “It’s early.”

“And you?” Your head falls back to the pillow of its own accord. Wakefulness is still out of reach, a tendril of smoke that you cannot grasp. “Will you sleep?”

No response.

Even as your eyes close and you slip back into unconsciousness, you can feel her gaze on your face, warm and ticklish. Or maybe it’s her hand.

+++++

Missy is brushing her hair.

Eyes half-closed, you pretend not to watch her. She stands in front of your mirror, purple housecoat flowing around her like something from a fairy tale, sweeping a wooden brush through the tangles. Four hairpins jut from her mouth.

I’m glad you changed your mind about the bed.

The swelling there is gone. A ragged line is all that remains, dark through her pale pink bottom lip. She sets the hairbrush down and drags a pin from between her teeth, running it across the scab. Her eye twitches.

I think we need to talk about yesterday.

Red splotches on her cheek mark the place where the graze had been, new skin that looks tight and itchy. Parts of the large cut are healed completely. It’s only by the faint purple scratches - one below her eye, one on her jaw - that you can even find where she was injured. She twirls a lock of hair around her finger and pins it at the back of her head.

I don’t know what to do.

Your throat feels tight. She finishes putting her hair up, skilful and unhurried, eyes never flitting from the mirror.

I wish you would look at me.

Slender fingers chart the healed cuts on her face.

I wish you would touch me.

She unbuttons the housecoat and drops it from her shoulders, revealing her chemise. She twists as if to look over her shoulder. It’s no significant state of undress but you clamp your eyes shut all the same.

A long moment of silence passes.

“Could you look at my back?”

Her voice is soft. When you open your eyes, she’s turned back to the mirror, having shrugged off the gown and hooked it over her arm. The white linen chemise ends just above her knees. Her pale calves are dappled with fine, dark hair.

“Please. I can’t quite see it in the mirror.”

You throw the duvet off and sit up, skin prickling with goosebumps as it meets the cool morning air. Outside the rain is torrential. “Of course.” Your voice is still groggy.

She tilts her head as you approach. A single strand of hair hangs loose at her neck. It stirs with your breath.

“Can I-?” Your fingers hover at the embroidered straps on her shoulders, not touching, not asking. Just waiting.

“Please,” she says again.

There is no right way to ease the top of the dress down her arms. You search for something to look at that won’t make your chest hurt but there’s only her bare shoulders, her bright eyes in the mirror. Closing your eyes would be insulting. So would turning your face away.

You can do nothing but watch her shoulder blades twitch as you guide the straps down past her elbows. The fabric droops, falling clear to her waist. She shivers but makes no effort to cover her chest. Your eyes drop to the small of her back.

“Well?”

There’s an indent, a quarter of an inch deep, maybe more. The new skin that lines it is a furious shade of pink. It’s sickle-shaped, with jagged edges, curving to the left of her spine. You catch your fingers drifting towards it and clench them into a fist at your side.

“It looks good.” You clear your throat. “It’s healing. No swelling or anything.”

“But not healed yet?” A strange sort of optimism tints the question.

“No, not- not properly. It still looks...” Painful. “Fresh.”

“Good.” She tugs her chemise back into place hastily. “That it’s healing. That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Still cold, you reach for your dressing gown and draw it around yourself. “I’m, uh - I’m gonna go for a shower, okay?”

“Of course.”

She fastens her housecoat with quick fingers. 

+++++

When you find Missy reading on the sofa, there are two steaming mugs on the coffee table in front of her.

She’s gotten changed.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before - the dark floral blouse, the wool skirt - but it feels uncanny. Somehow, seeing her in her chemise or in a pair of your pyjamas is less bizarre than this, her usual clothes with a softer silhouette, no corset, no boots. She has her legs tucked beneath her and her back angled away from the cushions in a way that’s startling unfamiliar. She looks relaxed. She looks comfortable.

“I made tea,” she says, and you realise that you’re staring.

“For me?” It sounds pathetically surprised.

“No. They’re both mine.” She glances up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, for you.” An arrogant, sarcastic sort of lopsided smirk; a faint flicker of her usual self. It makes your heart flutter.

“Thank you, Missy.”

She blinks. When was the last time somebody said that?

You take the cup and sit beside her. Her foot, stocking-pale and peeking out beneath the folds of her skirt, brushes your leg. You don’t flinch. Neither does she. To keep from reaching down and resting your palm on her ankle you wrap both hands around your mug. In times of desperation you can undress her, in darkness or in anger she can lay her hands on you to push you away or pull you close, but by the cold light of a rainy noontime you don’t know where you stand.

You don’t know the rules of this game.

As you drink your tea in silence - save for the occasional drag and rasp of a page turning - the words roll over and over behind your teeth, a tangle you try and fail to straighten out before speaking aloud. There’s too much to unravel. Too many thoughts, emotions, sensations are knotted together, and how do you ask if she feels what you feel when you don’t know what that is?

How do you ask if you can touch her?

How do you explain that you want to?

Missy watches you from the corner of her eye. It’s clear from the set of her jaw that she can sense something of the tumult in your skull. You wish she would put the book down and stop pretending to ignore you. You wish she would speak first.

You wish she would hold your hand.

“What are you reading?” You ask, and immediately wish that you hadn’t when she lifts her eyes from the page and sets them on you. They crinkle at the corners with her smile.

“Immensely dull,” she admits as she shows you the cover. It’s a nondescript black hardback titled in an unfamiliar language. “He’s been telling me to read it for centuries. I let it gather dust in the vault just to get under his skin.”

You can see where this is going. “And now he’s conveniently forgotten to bring you any other books?”

“Clever girl.” You hope she doesn’t see the way it makes your fingers twitch. Dropping her gaze back to the book in her lap, she shifts just enough that her foot rests against the outside of your thigh. She leaves it there.

“I think-”

The words come out before you can stop them and now it’s happening. You’ve lit the fuse. Missy looks at you again, properly this time, and you’d do anything for her to jump in and plug this gap with a derisive, do you? or, try not to strain yourself  but she doesn’t. She just waits. It hurts to meet her eyes.

You do it anyway. She deserves that much.

“I think we need to talk about yesterday.”

She nods, almost imperceptible. Something cracks behind her smile but it stays put, too wide, too false to be comfortable. “Do we?” It’s hollow. Not a question, not a snarl. Maybe a scoff.

Maybe a plea.

The doorbell rings.

+++++

In the doorway to your flat the Doctor proffers a damp plastic bag. The smell of hot oil and chip shop vinegar rises from it in a haze. It instantly makes you hungry.

In his other hand he carries a folded umbrella, wet from the rain.

"I brought food,” he says, and you realise that you’re staring.

“Is that-”

“Yes.” He taps the end of Missy’s sonic umbrella against the ground. “Can I come in?”

Uncertain. Like he thinks you might actually say no. He looks down at his full hands, the chips, the sonic; peace offerings. The closest to an apology you could ever expect, and one you aren’t quite ready to accept.

You don’t know when you got so angry with him.

“Did you do anything to it?”

“No,” he says, fire in his eyes, and it means I would never. You know his vehemence is supposed to be an olive branch, too, but it incenses you. He understands the notion that some things are sacred. He knows that there is a line and this is where he’s drawn it, too far on the wrong side of cruelty.

You stand to the side to let him through the door. When he’s close enough, you snatch the umbrella from his hand.

+++++

Missy is so different when he’s there.

She sits up straighter. Even when he takes your seat beside her, banishing you to sit cross-legged on the floor, she keeps her distance. Her feet are back on the ground. The book that she was reading is, you can see from your low vantage point, hidden beneath the sofa.

The umbrella is propped up against the coffee table in front of her. It doesn’t leave her sight for an instant.

“So,” he inspects a chip on the end of his fork. “You look better.”

“Than you?” A tilt of her eyebrow. “Always.”

He ignores it. “How’s recovery going?”

“Tiresome. Next time I get stabbed I’ll make sure that it kills me.”

Next time I get stabbed. Your stomach twists painfully and you put the remains of your meal aside. Their tight back-and-forth continues for almost half an hour.

When the Doctor gets up to leave, Missy sees him out, closing the living room door behind her. In a bid to ignore the low murmur of their voices in the hall, you tidy up as loudly as you can.

+++++

Four knocks against the doorframe, just audible over the rolling boil of the kettle.

You’ve never drunk this much tea in your life.

Even before she speaks your stomach is dropping. The kitchen feels smaller than it ever has before. Counters and cabinets press in on you, claustrophobic, like the room is shrinking around you in the silence.

“It’s time for me to go back.”

Squeezing your eyes tight, you fight not to make a sound until you’ve steadied yourself. Horror and sorrow and pain tug at your throat. When you finally manage to reply it’s terse, partly with anger, partly because your voice will break if you say any more. “Do you want to?”

“Does it matter?” She asks, and somehow it’s worse than yes. “The Doctor and I- agree, that I’ve recovered enough to travel again.”

“Did you show him your back?” There’s an ember of something too much like jealousy in the question.

“No.” I would never. A trace of disgust in her voice. Some things are sacred. “No, but we spoke.”

You scoff. “You mean, he said jump and you asked how high?”

She doesn’t even argue and god, you’d take being thrown against the bathroom sink over this, any day. “Yes. That’s how it has to be.”

“Does it?” For the first time you throw a glance over your shoulder at her. It’s a mistake. It makes your bottom lip quiver. “Why?”

Her brows draw together, a soft sort of torment on her face. “You know why.”

“I don’t.” Squaring your shoulders, you turn to face her, bracing your hands on the countertop behind you. You set your jaw against the plaintive whimper that races up your throat. “Tell me.”

“I’m not- ready. To be around people yet.” She waves a delicate hand in front of her face. “I thought I was, but obviously I was mistaken.”

“You look ready.” You gesture to her. “You’re standing here with me.”

“I’m not safe.”

“You haven’t killed me, have you?” You indicate your very-much-still-living body. “I’m still here.”

A quick hand wraps around your extended arm, just over your wrist, where she’d grabbed you yesterday. It’s not a tight grip but the joint is stiff and, despite your best efforts, your face twitches with discomfort. Spotting the movement, she loosens her hand until she’s just barely touching you.

“I hurt you.”

Your eyes flicker over her face, the pain written into it. It’s not a question, but you answer anyway. “Yes.”

Her gaze drops from you and she lets go of your wrist, but you catch her hand in yours and take a step towards her. She could pull away easily, you know that; but she doesn’t. Her fingers lace between yours.

“Do you want to go?” You ask again, making a conscious effort to keep your voice soft. She doesn’t look at you.

“I have to,” she murmurs to the floor.

“You don’t.” Closer still, letting your clasped hands swing between you. Less than a foot of distance from chest to chest. “And that’s not what I asked.”

Missy lifts her bright eyes to you and the desperation there makes your breath catch. She doesn’t speak.

“You can stay.” It comes out like a plea. “If you like.”

Her voice is a cracked whisper. “I can’t.”

“Why?” You reach for her other hand and she doesn’t flinch, letting you slot your fingers together with hers until you can feel her heartbeat through both palms. “Why can’t you, Missy?”

“Because-” with a steadying breath, she sets her jaw and twists her lips in contempt that you know isn’t directed at you. “Because I am not a good person.”

“Then be a good person!” 

You don’t mean for it to be so loud. Her eyes widen and you squeeze her hands, closing the distance until you’re almost touching. Your faces are inches apart.

“It’s not something you can learn. You’re not stupid, and you’re not helpless, and, whatever, the Doctor thinks, you are not his pet monster. If you lock yourself up with him until you feel like you’re good enough you’ll be there forever.”

Her face crumples, tears shining glassy in the low light of the afternoon, and it looks like she wants to lunge and pull you close but she doesn’t. She parts her lips and takes a breath and lets you carry on. You can feel a mutinous sob building at the back of your throat.

“You don’t have to save the world. Most people never do. You don’t have to be kind all the time because nobody ever is but you have to choose, Missy. You just have to choose not to be cruel. Every day, you choose. That’s all you do. That’s all there is to it.”

She laughs, low and tearful, a strangled sort of noise. “You say it like it’s easy.”

“On a good day, it is.”

With a shaky breath like she’s drowning, Missy asks, “and on a bad day?”

“On a bad day, you do the best you can.” When a tear streaks down her face you can’t stop yourself dropping her hand, reaching up to cup her cheek. It’s cold. Her mouth falls open with a quivering gasp when you wipe away the moisture with your thumb. You feel your own eyes burning and offer her a watery smile. “And then you try again tomorrow.”

She covers your hand with her own and looks at you for a moment as if she’s waiting for permission; and then she holds it there and tilts her head to press a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist.

The tears you’ve been swallowing back escape with a choked whimper.

“Stay, Missy.” You crook your fingers and curl them lightly against her jaw. She shivers. “Please. I’m asking you. Stay here with me.”

Closing her eyes like she’s struck with pain, she moves your hand from her face and rests her forehead against yours. Slowly - so achingly slowly - her hands release yours and come to rest on your waist. It makes your breath hitch. You mirror her, just as tentatively, pressing your palms to the line where thin blouse and thick skirt meet.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, the breath of the words ghosting over your face. “For yesterday, I-”

“I know you are.” Her fingers tighten on the fabric of your clothes. “Don’t do it again.”

“Never.” She opens her eyes, so close that you can hear the moisture on her lashes. “I promise you. I would never.”

“I believe you.”

“I want to be good.”

You chuckle through your tears, breathless and high-pitched. “For what it’s worth, I think you already are.”

She makes a fractured sound in the back of her mouth and slides one hand into the small of your back. Lifting her head, she moves closer, pressing her chest to yours. Her fingers are cool and feather-light on your face.

“Everything,” she murmurs, brushing the tears from your cheek. “It’s worth everything.”

The kiss is damp, and salty, and it knocks you breathless.

For a second you worry about hurting her, feeling the rough line of the scab through her bottom lip drag against your mouth, but she has no such concerns. She kisses you like she’ll die if she doesn’t.

You know how she feels.

When, too soon, she pulls away, you can’t help whining and trying to chase her mouth with your own, but she steps back, just enough that you can’t reach. For a long moment you’re terrified that she’s changed her mind, that this has been some mad and frenzied mistake, but she presses her lips to your forehead and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“You’re cold.”

It takes you a moment to even process the words. “Am I?”

Smiling, she reaches back to move your hand from her waist and show it to you by way of explanation. It’s trembling.

You hadn’t noticed.

“Oh. Yeah, I s’pose I am.”

She kisses your knuckles, just once, just lightly, and you realise that you are, in fact, shivering.

“You go and sit down.” Gentle fingers brush the underside of your chin. “I’ll make tea.”

The touch has you ducking your head shyly and you tease, “twice in one day?”

“Only for you, poppet.”

+++++

“It’s obviously the little girl.”

“Is it?” You glance away from the gore on the screen and down to Missy. Her head rests in your lap, over the thick blanket that covers you, her eyes fixed on the horror film playing out on the television. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, first of all, I don’t recall telling you to stop.” She looks up at you with a quirk of her eyebrow, rolling her eyes to indicate her hairline. With a fond scoff you resume gently scratching her head. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Mistress is fine.” Judging by the sharp smile that flashes across her face, she doesn’t miss the choked noise you make. “It’s a revenge film. I mean, look,” she gestures to the screen, “everyone who was nasty to her is dying. It’s poetic justice.”

“Like Carrie?” You prompt helpfully, smoothing a frustrated line from her forehead.

“Exactly like Carrie.” She wrinkles her nose. “But with worse practical effects.”

“I s’pose they all look fairly bad to you.”

“Hmm. It’s like pornography.” Your fingers falter against her scalp and she chuckles. “Pales in comparison once you’ve done the real thing.”

You look back at the television, debating for a moment whether to speak, but curled on the sofa here with her it all feels so much simpler. With forced casualness, you ask, “do you miss it?”

“Pornography?” She snorts. “Sometimes. I had a lot of me time in the vault.”

“No!” Feeling heat rise into your cheeks, you swat the side of her head very gently with your palm. She laughs. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean.” She takes your other hand - the one resting on her shoulder - and brings it down to her lips, kissing your palm. It makes you melt. “Which answer do you want? The good one, or the bad one?”

“Just the real one, Missy.” You lace your fingers through hers. “I don’t mind what that is.”

With a soft exhale, she clutches your hand to her chest. You can feel her hearts beating. “Like I said. Sometimes.” She throws a sideways glance up at you and you smile.

“That makes sense.”

“Does it?” So much aching vulnerability in the question. You squeeze her hand.

“Yeah. Makes sense to me.”

She nods like she doesn’t quite agree, and the movement turns into a nuzzle against your thigh. Taking the hint, you set up the rhythm of light scratches through her hair once more. “We still have to talk, don’t we?”

“Yeah. I think so.” She presses your palm tighter into her blouse. Her eyes are still red and puffy. “But not right now. Unless you want to.”

“Not right now,” she echoes softly, and ducks her head to kiss your knuckles. Her head twists in your lap as she settles herself again.

“Are you sure you don’t want a pillow?”

“Positive.” Her lips tilt at the corners. “This is perfect.”

Yes, is all you can think, watching the red-and-blue light of the television flashing on her pale face. She hums contentedly when you scratch behind her ear.

This is perfect.

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Girl Out of Time

Pairing: Bucky x Reader and Sam x Reader

Background: Willow Roffe was born and raised in Brooklyn. She lived her life as happily as she could with her two childhood best friends Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. When they both left her to join the military she tried to continue with life but that didn't get to happen for her for the simple fact that she meant something to James Buchanan Barnes.

Rating: Story will be overall MATURE but not every chapter. There will be strong language, talk of both mental and physical abuse, some good ole angst, and smut. There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter when it includes smut.

Chapter 28

"It's that doctor. This was all him." I said as we ran.

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

I looked over to Steve but he was concentrating on where we were going.

"I just do. It's all way too coincidental. Everything that happened led to that doctor being alone with James." I explained.

My heart was pounding furiously as we ran around a corner. Steve slowed in front of us at the sight of a body on the floor.

"Help me" a voice croaked.

Steve slowly moved closer. In the next room bodies were all over the place. What the hell happened?

"Help" the voice croaked again.

I stepped around Steve to see the doctor on the floor. A red hot rage filled me instantly.

"Get up" Steve ordered.

Before the guy had a chance I grabbed his shirt jerking him to his feet. I slammed him hard into the wall.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Steve asked harshly from beside me.

The man smiled sinisterly.

"To see an empire fall." He spat.

I didn't even get to retort when Sam was suddenly slammed into the wall next to me. I jumped turning around. Steve tried to subdue Bucky but he swung hard.

"Shit" I breathed out.

I grabbed Sam trying to help him to his feet but he was out cold. The two super soldiers moved into the next room. All thoughts of the doctor flew out of my mind as I ran to catch up with my friends. When I reached them Bucky threw Steve door the elevator shaft.

"Steve!" I shouted making Bucky turn towards me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked him harshly.

"Stay out of my way doll." He snapped.

He wasn't Bucky. The look in his eyes was the same one as the first time Steve and I had seen him as the Winter Soldier. Somehow the switch got flipped again.

I chased after him. I couldn't let him disappear again. He didn't know what he was doing. He needed help.

I got down into the main lobby to find James in the middle of fighting several agents. None of them stood a chance against him.

"James!" I shouted trying to get his attention.

I ran towards him just as Tony came around the corner. A sonic wave hit me making me crumbled to my knees. My ears rang from it. I covered my eyes as a bright flash filled the room. When I could see and hear again Bucky had both Sharon and Nat on him. He knocked Sharon off then grabbed Nat by the throat. He slammed her on top a table.

"You could at least recognize me." Nat said through clenched teeth.

I stumbled to my feet as T'Challa jumped out kicking Bucky in the chest. I checked on Nat quickly as the two men started to fight. She was panting from lack of oxygen but otherwise okay.

Bucky knocked off T'Challa then ran up the stairs. I moved to follow him but someone grabbed my wrist pulling me back.

"You can't help him." Tony said sharply.

"I have to try." I said softly.

Tony tightened his hold on my wrist but I could still get out of it. I ripped my hand away from him. Bucky was no longer on the stairs. I turned and ran as quickly as I could. I followed my instincts running out the side door. A few feet in front of me James was running full speed. He shoved open a heavy metal door that led to a helicopter pad. He ripped something off the door of the helicopter then opened the door. I hurried to the other side doing the same and climbing inside.

"What the hell are you doing?" James asked harshly.

"If you're leaving then so am I." I told him.

"Are you out of your mind?" He glared at me.

"Better get going before we get caught again." I stated simply.

He growled but did as I said. He started flipping switches making the copter roar to life.

"I don't understand what you're doing." He said as he started to lift us off the pad.

"I've lost you too many times already. I'll be damned if I let it happen again." I said sternly.

The metal door leading to the pad flew open as Steve ran out. His eyes locked with both mine and Bucky's. He ran full speed then jumped grabbing hold of the helicopter. With his insane strength he kept us from getting too far. When Bucky tried to get him off Steve grabbed a hold of the edge of the pad.

"He can't seriously being doing this." I said in disbelief.

Bucky tried to make him let go but ended up crashing us into the pad.

"Shit! Hold on doll!" James shouted as we went down.

I closed my eyes for only a second. When I opened them we were falling into the water. I looked over to James to see blood trickling down the window his head was laying against.

"Jamie!" I shouted right before my head went under water.

I had to kick at my door a few times to get it open. When I got to Jamie's side Steve was already there ripping the door open. I helped him pull him out then drag him up to the surface. I gasped for air as soon as I could.

"Have you lost your mind?" Steve shouted at me as we swam to the shore.

I knew he was mad but he was scared more than anything. He could have just lost both his best friends in one moment. All I had selfishly thought about was James and how I couldn't loose him again.

"You scared the absolute hell out of me Willow." He chided as we drug James out of the water.

"I'm sorry" I said softly.

I fell to my knees next to Jamie. His chest was rising and falling normally which eased my worries a bit.

"What if you got killed? Did you even stop to think about me or Sam? What would we do without you?" Steve asked as he kneeled beside me.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I looked down at James.

"I couldn't risk loosing him again." I choked out.

Steve's arms were instantly around me. I cried harder the instant my head was against his chest.

"Cap!" Sam's voice brought me back to reality.

I quickly sat up wiping my eyes. I wasn't sure I could explain to Sam why I was crying. Steve knew me well enough to know why. I was overwhelmed. Too much going on around me and in my head.

"He still breathing?" Sam asked coming to a stop in front of us.

"That's not funny." I grumbled.

I didn't give Steve a chance to do anything. I bent down picking up Bucky's unconscious body. I positioned him over my shoulders so I held one arm and one leg to keep him in place.

"Willow I can carry him." Steve chided.

"So can I." I said simply.

Steve sighed but nodded. He knew I wasn't going to let him take James from me. I followed behind the two men towards our "getaway car". I chuckled to myself at the sight of the small dark blue beetle. Sam opened the door then moved up the seat so I could sit James in the back seat. I climbed in to sit next to him. The car ride was silent but the air was tense. I knew both men wanted to say something. Most likely two completely different things.

Steve pulled the car into an old run down warehouse. I pulled James out then carried him to the other side of the room where I gently sat him against the wall.

"Sam, give me a hand." Steve said.

I watched as Steve raised up part of an old wench then nodded for Sam to do something. I stepped forward when Sam grabbed Bucky's metal arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" I questioned harshly.

"When he wakes up he could still be the Winter Soldier. It's just a safety precaution." Steve told me.

I scoffed turning away as Steve tightened it down on his friend's arm. When he was done he excused himself out of the room.

"Care to explain why you ran off like that?" Sam asked quietly.

"I didn't want us to loose track of him again." I told him.

He sighed.

"Will, you promised to be honest with me." He said in exasperation.

"How can I be honest if I don't know what the hell is going on myself?" I asked a bit harsher than I meant to.

"What does that mean?" Sam questioned.

I was the one to sigh this time.

"Ever since we found him things have started to change. The more I talk to him. The longer I'm near him I can feel every emotion I use to have coming back to the surface. They're not just memories anymore." I explained softly.

I felt so bad. I didn't understand it at first. I thought I was just caring about him more because I could remember him. In reality, every second around him brought me closer to loving him again. I didn't want to hurt Sam. He was a great guy and he'd been there for me through so much since we met but I can't stop these feelings from resurfacing.

"You're falling in love with him again aren't you?" Sam asked.

"I don't know if you'd call it falling." I muttered.

"Willow" Sam huffed.

I walked over to Sam then leaned my head against his chest. His arms wrapped around me as he rested his chin on top my head.

"Just give me some time to figure out exactly what I'm feeling. Please." I spoke into his chest.

I stepped back not paying much attention to the groaning behind me. Sam grabbed each side of my face then kissed me softly. Another groan behind me made Sam and I both turned around to see James awake and watching us with a look of either pain or disgust.

—

[toaarcan]

Sonic X, Sonic Heroes, and IDW, or: How a bad anime from 2004 spoiled a comic from 2019.

Now, I haven’t been following IDW Sonic all that closely. I get regular updates from Nemesis via Discord, and additional info from some of the Tumblrs I follow that are invested in it, but I don’t really have a desire to touch it myself. Here’s why.

There’s a multitude of reasons for this. Starting with the background of Sonic Forces wasn’t really a good place to begin from, and being based on present-day game lore in general was always going to hurt it, mainly because SEGASonic canon is currently a confusing mess of retcons brought on by Iizuka taking the J.K. Rowling approach.

Wait, no, he’s just saying stupid shit that contradicts previous canon, not trying to score woke points and hoping nobody notices the frankly terrible stereotypes and TERF tweets. Iizuka is taking the Greg Farshtey approach.

Added, as anyone that’s had experience with my opinions will tell you, I started falling out of love with Ian Flynn’s writing somewhere around Issue 200, and moved to outright dislike during Mecha Sally, and to make matters worse I started noticing that some of the flaws in the 200-247 era were also present in the 160-199 era, retroactively making those harder to go back to.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: I kept up with Archie for the SatAM cast. SatAM reruns back in 2004 were my Sonic, moreso than anything else, and even now I still have way more attachment to those two seasons of animation than I do to most other aspects of the franchise, warts and all. So Archie providing me with additional content for said characters was a major draw for me. I’d generally put up with a lot just to get myself more SatAM content.

That in itself is a large part of why I fell off the Archie train during Mecha Sally. The entirety of the SatAM cast were removed from the regular lineup, just leaving three SEGA characters with their personalities stunted, even if that didn’t make sense in-universe. But that’s a discussion for another day.

So being written by someone whom I no longer enjoyed the writing of, set in a mess of a canon with a thoroughly shite game as the main basis, without the cast I read the previous comics for gave me little reason to invest in IDW Sonic. It wasn’t for me, I’d just keep reading Transformers and move on.

Then MTMTE/LL ended with a heart-twister and Ex-RID ended with a giant Unicron-shaped fart, and the new comic is dull as fucking dishwater and started by killing off one of my favourites, who was also one of the franchise’s confirmed LGBT characters. So now IDW is getting none of my money. Which is good because I’m broke.

Tangents aside, my lack of interest wasn’t something set in stone. If it turned out that the comic was actually really good, then sure, I’d try it. I was up for being proven wrong. But so far, I haven’t felt compelled by the responses from the internet. If anything I’ve been more turned off.

I could talk about how zombies are really fucking boring. I could talk about how SEGA’s recent confusion over what to do with Amy has combined with Ian’s need to include a Sally-esque character to make IDW Amy into Sally Lite. I could talk about how Ian seemingly fundamentally misunderstood everything that was cool about Neo Metal Sonic and somehow managed to reduce him to a boring Eggman minion in an arc where Eggman was out of action due to amnesia… But I won’t.

Instead I’m going to talk about how the comic has done something that would legitimately make me think twice about picking it up even if the FF were to debut tomorrow.

Yeah, I would pass up a SatAM fix because of this, that’s how much this ticks me off.

Now, I presume that if you’re reading this, you have a favourite Sonic character. And you probably feel pretty strongly about how your favourite character is portrayed. If they get a bad run in a game or two then you probably get a little salty about that. Tails and Knuckles fans in particular, as of late, seem to be the ones getting the short end.

Well, my favourite character in the entire franchise is Emerl the Gizoid. I will take Gemerl as a worthy substitute, they’re basically the same character. And the comics have been doing them dirty since the Archie reboot.

(Sidenote: I will be referring to Emerl with male pronouns from this point on. The Maria-soul thing isn’t as widely known as I’d like it to be, so I’m going to compromise for the sake of keeping the focus on the actual point)

However, not everything about this can be laid at the feet of Ian Flynn. Arguably his portrayal of said character is merely a symptom of a long-running issue that has plagued Sonic storytelling for roughly 15-16 years now.

But before we get into that, let’s get into something important: Why Emerl is my favourite Sonic character.

Part 1: Emerl in Sonic Battle, or “How I learned to stop worrying and love the Gizoid”.

This game doesn’t get enough love.

Now, I totally understand why it doesn’t get enough love. There are game design choices, like the grinding and the repetitiveness of the story mode that really drag it down, and because of that, Battle can become a slow-going and tedious experience, and that’s a real shame, because the story that’s hidden in this game is a thing of beauty.

Like most Sonic games from the 2000s, this game introduces a new character to join Sonic’s list of friends. Unlike the games that aren’t SA2 and Sonic Rush, this new character is actually good (This is hyperbole, Omega, Silver, and Shade were fine too).

Emerl enters the story as a mute, barely-functional robot that doesn’t do much of anything for a while, and only seems to come to life when Sonic locates it and attacks it. However, as the robot absorbs more Chaos Emeralds, slowly a personality starts to form, largely pieced together from other characters’ traits.

Emerl, as he is dubbed, is initially childlike and naive, but as he grows he develops a sassy streak, and his speech becomes a lot more developed. Maturity sets in, as Emerl grapples with his own nature, particularly the legacy he carries from the ARK, and Shadow’s ongoing turmoil with regards to the whole “Living Weapon” deal. Ultimately he becomes a hero, following in the footsteps of his mentor, parental figure, and closest friend, Sonic.

That’s right, Sonic, not Cream, is Emerl’s closest friend. We’ll get to that.

But this heart-warming story of Sonic becoming a dad for a robot doesn’t have a happy ending. Despite Shadow and Rouge finding a way to neutralise Emerl’s destructive Gizoid programming, Eggman has a way to reactivate it anyway, driving Emerl into a berserk rampage. This is kind of the one sticking point I have with the game’s plot, Eggman shouldn’t have been able to do this after Shadow and Rouge neutralised Emerl.

Additionally, while Emerl was on the ARK getting Maria’s soul crammed into him, Gerald also added a self-destruct mechanism that would trigger if he ever went Ultimate again.

So with Emerl quite literally exploding with all the power of the Chaos Emeralds, but his destructive programming forcing him to turn Eggman’s latest Death Star knockoff on Mobius/Earth/Sonic’s World, Sonic races up to confront his mecha-child, and things take a turn for the Old Robot Yeller.

In a moment that really deserves more attention, Sonic confronts his own child on the bridge of a space station, while Emerl is running on the power of the Chaos Emeralds and outputting more energy than he can physically take, and they fight. In the space of thirty seconds, they have a ten-round knock-down, drag-out brawl, and at the end, Sonic stands triumphant. Without using a single transformation. Yeah, that’s how powerful this guy is, that’s not travel speed, that’s combat speed. Looking at you, Death Battle.

It’s not really clear whether Sonic outright defeats Ultimate Emerl, or just survives long enough for his opponent to reach his limit and self-destruct, but the end result is the same. Sonic cradles a robot that became his own child over the course of the past few weeks, someone he raised from a baby-like state into a mature and heroic individual, and Emerl looks up at him and asks “Sonic… am I going to die?” And despite Sonic desperately trying to get him to keep it together, Not only does Emerl die, but he’s aware that the end is coming, and bids farewell to all of his friends as Sonic pleads with him to hold on. Shadow is equally distraught, his only friend with a connection to the ARK, someone he can call a brother, someone who carries the soul of his deceased sister within him, is dead.

Emerl: “Sonic I don’t feel so good.”

Like it’s canon that Eggman basically murdered Sonic’s kid.

And goddamnit this ending hits me hard. It frustrates me that Eggman was able to pull a means to drive Emerl into his Ultimate freakout mode out of his arse, but other than that, it’s so gutwrenching, I love it.

Gamma’s story from SA1 gets a lot of praise on the Internet, but for me, this is even better. It’s like Gamma’s story, but if Gamma was actually central to the plot of the game and the characters other than Amy gave a shit about him, and gave a shit about him for longer than a single cutscene, after which they are never mentioned again. Hell, due to Chaos Gamma being a thing, Gamma gets more love from the other characters in Battle than he does in SA1.

But, unfortunately, it doesn’t end there.

Part 2: (Sonic) Anime was a Mistake, or: “Sonic X ruins everything.”

I’ve made my dislike of this anime quite clear in the past. The characters are flanderized, Sonic is a B-lister in his own damn show, the villains are weaksauce or boring or both, the plot is only remotely close to good when its cribbing from two videogames which told the stories in question better, and for the first two seasons the entire show actually revolves around not Sonic, but the least relatable audience surrogate ever made. The third season would continue to include him, but shove him (And everyone else) to the side in favour of a Pokemon whose only move was “Flashback”, making audiences the world over question why he was even there in the first place.

Oh, and it also near-singlehandedly destroyed the thin shreds of character development that Tails, Knuckles, Amy, and Eggman had received in Sonic Adventure 2.

All four of these characters had been significantly enriched by the then most recent console game. Eggman had been revealed to be motivated by an admiration for his grandfather, Gerald Robotnik, but in the same game learned that Gerald had lost his marbles and programmed the ARK to smash into the planet and kill everyone on it, probably including his surviving family, i.e. little baby Ivo Robotnik. Gerald betrayed Eggman posthumously, and it’s clear from Eggman’s interactions with Tails during the credits of the game that this is giving him a lot to think about.

Knuckles is a weird case because most of his characterisation in SA2 is conveyed via… the lyrics to his rap music. Yes, really. He gets minor growth through the cutscenes, most notably in his decision to shatter the Master Emerald early on. Having already reassembled it once after it was broken in SA1, he’s now confident that he can do it again, so is willing to break it to prevent Eggman or Rouge stealing it. Via the rap lyrics, however (Yes I just wrote that), we also learn that Knuckles is slowly warming up to Sonic, gaining a greater respect for him, that he is more in-touch with his history and ancestors after SA1 (Though fortunately not in a Ken Penders way), and that he’s also struggling with feelings for Rouge, a plot element that went completely out of the window after this game.

Tails and Amy, however, get it the worst, as both went through arcs in SA1 that are followed up on and expanded in SA2. Amy had come to the conclusion that she didn’t need to rely on Sonic for everything, and that she would make him respect her as a hero in her own right. And while Amy is clearly in way over her head throughout the events of SA2, she still makes a significant difference, not only freeing Sonic from his cell on Prison Island, allowing Tails’ invasion to be a distraction and stealing a keycard to facilitate it, but of course, she later saves the world by motivating Shadow to join the fight to stop the ARK drop.

Tails had a similar plot, about learning to believe in himself as a hero, without having to rely on Sonic, and in SA2 he gets to prove it, not only partaking in the same rescue operation as Amy and fighting Eggman on even footing, but effectively taking command of the heroes and becoming their new leader, and for the first time, Sonic defers to him.

And then Sonic X came along and fucked it all up.

Eggman became a clownish antagonist with no semblance of nuance, and he actually got off the easiest.

Knuckles became a loud, dimwitted loner who got tricked by Eggman constantly, which would go on to be his personality for the rest of the franchise, ultimately culminating in the travesty against all sense that was Boom Knuckles.

Tails was reduced to a wimpy taxi driver, incapable of doing anything without his giant mecha plane to sit in. This was largely exacerbated by the presence of Donut Steele, who usurped his role as Sonic’s best friend and sidekick for two seasons, a problem which only got worse in the third season when Donut Steele suddenly became a genius inventor too, encroaching even more into Tails’ territory. Tails did get himself some more focus in S3, but only to make googly eyes at the Pokemon, a role which frankly could’ve gone to literally anyone else and would have made no difference on the plot. I would say that Tails being involved in a romance story at all is weird, but given the comics and Boom the weirdest thing about this latest tragic love story for the kid is that the Pokemon was actually close to his own age, because outside of this it really does seem like Tails goes for older ladies. Though she did turn into an adult at the end so I guess that counts?

But Amy arguably got the worst of it. Not only was her crowning moment in SA2 taken away from her and given to Donut Steele, but the poor girl had her promising character arc cut short and replaced with an obsessive, unhealthy fixation on Sonic, combined with a violent temper and an eagerness to smash anything that displeased her, Sonic included, with a giant hammer. Her admiration and crush on Sonic were warped into her being a possessive, mean-spirited stalker, whom only got away with it because she was an anime girl and therefore it was cute rather than creepy.

I want to take the time at this point to stress that stalking is not okay, under any circumstances. A girl obsessively following an older guy and threatening him and everyone around him with violent assault if they ever so much as imply that he isn’t interested in her is not cute, it means it’s time for a restraining order. Sonamy is not cute.

Now that I’ve swatted that particular hornet’s nest with a cricket bat, let’s move on!

I’ve always found it ironic that, despite being the adaptation with the most oversight from SEGA and Sonic Team, and the most endorsement from them too, Sonic X had easily the worst characterisation of any of the shows at the time. But, for all its faults, I can’t blame everything that went down in the aftermath on it. It had a comrade-in-arms. Mediocrely-written arms.

Part 3: Partner in Crime, or “Sonic Heroes also ruins everything.”

Sonic Heroes has a lot to answer for. And I mean a lot. It was the beginning of the franchise’s obsession with references to the classic games, it codified the really awkward ages for certain characters, and it seemed to be dedicated to completely unpicking everything established in the Adventure duology.

Shadow’s sudden resurrection is one thing, at least they had the graces to include a means to preserve his sacrifice via having him be an android, the blame for that not taking should be laid at the feet of his own game.

But the rest of the cast? Ohhh boy. Sonic’s still fine, he didn’t change much in the Adventure games, but then there’s Tails. Despite all the development he went through in SA1, in this game he needs to turn to Sonic when Eggman returns, and honestly this whole setup could’ve been fixed if Tails sought Sonic out not for the sake of having him lead the charge, but rather simply to recruit him into the counterattack he was already planning. Nevertheless, throughout the rest of the game Tails is almost as wimpy as his X counterpart, not helped by the voicework he’s given. No offense to William Corkery, who was probably like six when he recorded his lines, but this what you get when you choose actors via nepotism, rather than talent. But at least he does something.

How about Knuckles? As the other side of his derailment, Knuckles just turns up in this game, buddy-buddy with the characters he was only just starting to warm up to before, and blatantly not caring about the Master Emerald until Rouge mentions she’s going to steal it at the end. This will combine with his becoming a dumbass in Sonic X and become basically his entire character for… ever. Even in Forces, where he’s supposed to be doing slightly better as the leader of the resistance… but he’s a dumbass, and even Ian Flynn, who kept Knuckles as competent and intelligent in the Archie comics (Making the best version of Knuckles we’ve had in forever), kept this ongoing in the IDW comic. The Forces prequel portrays him as deciding to become leader of the Resistance (To an empire that hasn’t actually formed yet) purely to be a glory hound, and then goes on to establish that he was basically a figurehead while the real work was done by Amy, of all people.

And speaking of Amy…

Yeah, poor Amy is basically her Sonic X counterpart. But worse. I didn’t think that was possible, but at least X’s Amy seems to care about her friends. In Heroes, we’re treated to an equally violent and stalkerish Amy, who ostensibly starts searching out Sonic because he’s implicated in the abduction of Cream and Big’s pets, but when they actually catch up to him, Amy clean forgets why she is looking for him in the first place and tries to force him to marry her. Despite being twelve.

Y’know when Amy said she wanted to marry Sonic in SA2, she was joking, right?

This is why I find the idea of Amy being the real leader of the Resistance frankly absurd: Because the only time she led anything, it was a team that consisted of herself, a small child, and a man less intelligent and aware of reality than said small child, and she completely forgot their actual objective the moment she set her eyes on Sonic. Add in an unfortunate stint of very poor eyesight that got less and less understandable with every instance, and we got Amy’s rough personality for the next decade.

While Knuckles mostly stagnated at the same level of stupidity during that time, Tails got worse and worse, losing all of his badass traits with every game, a factor only increased by the “Sonic only” mentality costing him playable status, until he reached his nadir in Forces, cowering in terror from Chaos 0, and crying out to Sonic to save him, despite knowing full-well that Sonic was captured already.  Amy, meanwhile, limped along at the same level until about 2014, where it seemed someone at SEGA finally realised that A) Having the only female character you regularly use be a pink-coloured gender-bent version of your male hero whose only function is lusting after said hero doesn’t and shouldn’t fly in this day and age, and B) violent stalkers aren’t cute, and dropped this trait. Unfortunately, this has been more of a lateral move than a fix, as, much like Antoine in the comics, they forgot to give her anything substantial or fitting after she lost her negative traits, leaving her a bland and dull character, and when you’ve had a character be consistent for ten years, even if they were consistently bad, then changing it without cause or warning is still going to be jarring and awkward.

Part 4: Two Wrongs Don’t Make a Right, or “Why the fuck did this happen?”

As I said in Part 2, Sonic X was made under heavy oversight from Sonic Team, and was heavily endorsed by them at the same time. There were promos for the show inserted into Sonic Adventure DX, a few episodes were released on GBA cartridges, and it received a long-running comic from Archie that ran alongside the main book, even after the show had ended. Additionally, characters that debuted in games from 2002-2004 were restricted from appearing in Archie’s main book for years afterwards (Which will become relevant later). The third season was commissioned solely off of the response to the first two, and primarily overseas response, hence why the original sub was never aired in Japan.

Sonic X was huge. And with that in mind, it’s plain to see that the portrayals of the characters in Sonic X were intended by SEGA. Yeah, all that horrible characterisation was intended as the vision for the franchise going forwards, and subsequent games were adjusted to match it.

And unfortunately, not only did this have a serious impact on the main cast of the games, but it had an even worse effect on Emerl.

Part 5: Emerl in Sonic X, or “Emerl vs. ‘Emel’”

Sonic X’s original mission statement was to adapt Sonic Adventure, Sonic Adventure 2, and Sonic Battle. Why they skipped Sonic Heroes, despite Shadow being a major player in Battle’s story, I don’t know.

For whatever reason, the show took a full season to actually get to the first game adaptation, SA1, and instead spent the first 26 episodes on bland episodic “adventures”, in some kind of strange reverse-Isekai series. However, once it got there, the adaptation work was fairly faithful to the source material, which the exception of Donut Steele’s being crammed in to the plot. However, he mostly followed Big around, and since Big was the least involved in the game’s plot, he didn’t disrupt too much.

Sidenote, after 26 episodes of filler, the actual SA1 adaptation only lasted six episodes.

SA2 was likewise only six episodes, but with the exception of Amy’s big scene, it likewise wasn’t too bad. Tails suffered this time around too, which is somewhat surprising since he was mech-dependent in the anime anyway.  

After some more filler, which introduced the Chaotix and then did nothing with them, Emerl finally made an appearance, albeit they got his name wrong.

‘Emel’ looks like Emerl, and somewhat works like Emerl, but might as well be completely  different. ‘Emel’ stays completely mute for the entire time he’s around, never advancing much beyond Emerl’s initial silent, pre-first Emerald persona. He does get better at fighting, but he’s limited to only absorbing a single skill at once (Except for when he isn’t).

Dispensing with Battle’s interesting, rich, and heart-twisting plot, Sonic X instead has ‘Emel’ linger in ensemble for three episodes, before condensing the entire game’s premise into a two episodes of really bland tournament arc, where Sonic himself doesn’t actually fight and we get two rounds of Donut Steele being a dick to his friend and his father.

‘Emel’ wins the tournament, and is given a Chaos Emerald, and just when you think it might kickstart him becoming an actual character, instead it just drives him insane and he immediately becomes a pathetically weak version of Ultimate Emerl. After kicking the crap out of the entire cast, he is defeated by Cream and Cheese, because even though he can take on Sonic, Knuckles, and Rouge at the same time and win, along with Tails, Amy, Donut Steele and everyone else, he… can’t handle two opponents at once.

This is stupid.

You’ll notice that I haven’t talked about Sonic’s relationship with ‘Emel’, and that’s because he doesn’t have one. The wonderfully-written parental bond that these two characters share in the games is completely excised, and instead the focus is put on Cream. Bare in mind, Cream is so inconsequential to the actual game that she doesn’t even get mentioned individually in Emerl’s dying speech like Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, and Shadow do. Instead she’s just grouped in with Amy.

This is also stupid.

And as a result of this, it means that what is arguable base form Sonic’s most impressive feat just doesn’t happen in the anime, instead Emerl dies because he is lightly kicked a bit by Cream. Yeah, unlike the Advance games, Sonic X’s Cream is not an unstoppable engine of destruction, she’s basically just a small child who can sometimes fly.

Instead of Emerl’s tragic speech and Sonic’s desperate attempts to keep his son alive, we get treated to a prolonged scene of Cream crying over the death of her “friend”, something that is probably meant to tug at heartstrings but doesn’t because Cream’s voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

And Shadow isn’t even there! He doesn’t come back until a third of the way through Season 3, and never meets ‘Emel.’

This is really stupid. And, for those keeping track, that means of Sonic X’s originally commissioned 52 episodes, and the full series run of 78 episodes, a stunning total of seventeen of them were actually adaptations of the games that the series was supposed to focus on, leaving us with 61 episodes of what might as well be filler.

And, unfortunately, that franchise-wide initiative had damning consequences for Emerl.

Part 6: Gemerl and Sonic Advance 3, or: “An incomplete resurrection.”

So, Gemerl. I know his name is apparently G-Merl now but fuck that I’m calling him Gemerl. If the comics can do it then so will I.

Gemerl is the worst thing Eggman has ever done to Sonic. Like, there is no contest. Some of his other schemes might be more destructive and generally evil, but in terms of personal pain inflicted, nothing has topped this.

Eggman salvaged Emerl’s corpse, and brought him back to life as a mindless murderbot under his control. So not only did he kill Sonic’s robo-son, but he also brought him back as a weapon.

Come the conclusion of the game, Gemerl predictably betrays Eggman, steals the Chaos Emeralds from Sonic, and goes on another rampage. I have… headcanons about this fight, but that’s something to worry about later. What’s important is that, once again, Sonic is victorious, and Gemerl’s defeated body plunges into the atmosphere.

Fortunately, Tails is able to bring Emerl back properly this time, presumably using the Chaos shard that was left over at the end of Battle’s finale. So, it’s all a happy ending, right? Sonic has his child back, Shadow has his connection to his history restored, and Emerl is alive and well, right?

Wrong.

See, the vile spectre of Sonic X rears its ugly head once more, and sabotages this conclusion. Gemerl doesn’t return to Sonic, in fact we never see him reunite with his father. Instead, Sonic X’s version has enough clout now to take precedence, so Gemerl is now Cream’s playmate.

Bear in mind that Emerl’s idea of a fun game is all-out combat against his friends, and Cream doesn’t like fighting (Even if she’s really good at it in Advance 2 and 3).

And then he never shows up again. Even when Cream is part of the game’s plot, like in Rush or Generations, he’s not there, and most egregiously, in Sonic Chronicles, where Cream is not only an active player in the plot, but so are Gizoids, the creators of said Gizoids are the main antagonists, and Emerl himself is mentioned… Gemerl is not there.

But he did make it into the comics, for better or worse. Mostly worse.

Part 7: Embargos, knock-offs, and misused tropes, or: “Ian Flynn dun goofed.”

For a long while, Emerl/Gemerl was barred from the Archie comics, due to the Sonic X embargo, and when it was lifted, he didn’t appear until the reboot. We did, however, get a suspiciously similar substitute in the form of Shard.

Shard was the original Metal Sonic, but when he was brought back and rebuilt for the Secret Freedom arc, he was given a colour scheme ostensibly derived from Metal Sonic 3.0, but one shared with Gemerl, and a personality that was a lot like a watered-down version of Emerl’s own.

On some level I can understand Ian’s decision to bring back Metal Sonic v2.5, rather than use the character that seems to have been an inspiration for this new incarnation in some way. He’d need a fully-formed Emerl, necessitating a skip over the whole story, since there wasn’t room for an adaptation during the Mecha Sally arc that the Secret Freedom story was framed within. Heck, for all we know, the similarities between them may simply be a pretty sizeable coincidence.

But then the reboot happened and Gemerl finally joined the comic cast. And to say it was underwhelming would be an understatement.

You’ll notice that I said “Gemerl” rather than “Emerl”, because his entire story was indeed skipped. The events of Sonic Battle and Sonic Advance 3 had both happened already. This wasn’t Ian’s decision, as far as we know, his intention was for the comic to start over from the beginning. However, due to the interference of Paul Kaminski, who wanted a softer reboot, Ian was forced to fill the characters’ active histories with a large chunk of the games’ stories. Battle and Advance 3 were among those that had already happened, so Emerl made cameos in both incarnations via flashback… which unfortunately led to a plot hole.

See, Advance 3 and Sonic Unleashed are rather difficult to keep in the same continuity, because both share a common plot element: The world breaking into seven pieces.

For a long while, it was generally assumed that the handheld games and console titles were only semi-canon to each other. This avoided the awkward question of “If the Gaias were already there, why didn’t they emerge when Eggman broke the planet in Advance 3?”

Ian shoved them blatantly into the same continuity, and gave no attempt to explain what was different about the Advance 3 world-break compared to the Gaia incident, which served as the backbone to the reboot’s three year long Shattered World Arc. Why didn't the Gaias wake up during Advance 3? Because that's now a question we have to ask of the comics' world.

When Gemerl finally showed up doing something other than yard work for Vanilla (Despite allegedly being Cream’s friend, Cream spends all her time with the rest of the cast, and Gemerl is basically Vanilla’s maid), it was to get effortlessly dispatched by a brainwashed Mega Man with a terrible name in the extremely lacklustre Worlds Unite event.

This one was more than a little bit of a slap in the face, considering that Emerl and Mega Man are very similar in concept- robots that can copy the abilities of other characters- but Emerl is demonstrably more powerful. Now, if Ian had established that Gemerl had been nerfed when he was rebuilt, either by Eggman or by Tails, that would be fine. But he didn’t. In fact, Gemerl is given the title bubble “Super Gizoid”, implying that he’s stronger than a regular Gizoid.

Worlds Unite is generally pretty bad for having its corrupted heroes easily curbstomp every other character around, to the point that the only thing that can stop them is each other, but in Gemerl’s case it really serves no purpose.

This is the only thing that he actually does in Worlds Unite. He shows up to get beaten up and make Mega Man look stronger. That’s it.

This is something that TV Tropes refers to as “The Worf Effect”, a trope wherein an established powerful character is defeated easily by a new character, in order to demonstrate the latter’s power. Now, there’s nothing wrong with using this trope, but please note that I said establishedpowerful character, which Gemerl wasn’t.

At the point that this comic released, Gemerl’s last appearance in any Sonic media was over ten years prior. None of the comic’s intended target audience would remember him, and they wouldn’t know why defeating him was impressive. And this was, in addition, a terrible way to introduce him to new fans. Though the worst part is easily that this was unnecessary. Mega Man had already defeated everyone else, and had established his power pretty well just on them, and he was about to get removed from play permanently in the next issue. There was really no reason to throw Gemerl under the bus for this.

He made one more appearance in the event, getting controlled by the Zeti along with every other robot, and after that he got bopped on the head and just flew away.

Later, he’d make another appearance in the Panic in the Sky arc, and while his portrayal was far from the worst thing about Panic in the Sky, it only adds to the issues caused by the previous showing.

Gemerl makes one appearance, and promptly gets pinned down by the Witchcarters and Team Hooligan. Bear in that one of those groups are the joke villains who nobody takes seriously, and the other are a gang that was defeated by Tails before he met Sonic.

Archie Gemerl was a character who only existed to lose to villains in a vain attempt to make them look better, and that’s legitimately all Ian ever did with him, which makes me wonder whether he disliked the character. And it didn’t even make the villains look good, when you think about it. For anybody that was actually the intended audience for this book, Gemerl had no significance. He was just a robot that got beat up all the time. But for anyone like me, who does remember the games he appeared in, it stands out, not as good writing, but as a blatant narrative device and misused trope.

In this situation, I would simply rather Gemerl never appeared in Archie. At all. If Ian wasn’t going to give him time to shine, or at the very least be an adequate member of the supporting cast, he shouldn’t have used him at all.

Part 8: A Fresh False Start, or: “Wait, how did this get worse?!”

And now we arrive at IDW.

The one nice thing I can say about Archie Gemerl is that at least his personality was mostly on point. He read like a generally accurate take on the character that Emerl was at the end of Battle, which is what he’s supposed to be.

The same cannot be said for IDW.

In the pages of IDW, Gemerl acts like the most generic robot. He speaks in emotionless, stilted sentences with little in the way of actual grammar, leaving him to read like a poor man’s Soundwave, or Soundwave in one of those comics where the writer can’t decide whether they want him to speak normally or adopt his speech pattern from the G1 cartoon, so they just sort of do both.

Emerl pretty much never talked like this, as far as I can recall. His speech development is much more reminiscent of a child learning words, and the only time when he did adopt a more robotic speech pattern, it was a clue that he was slipping back into his destructive programming. He only spoke like a generic robot when he was in mindless destroyer mode.

He gets thrown for a loop by a simple logic flaw, unable to reconcile “Protect Cream and Vanilla” with “Don’t kill the zombots”, and has to be talked out of killing everything around him, when the entire point of Gerald’s modifications to the Gizoid was to make him a bringer of hope rather than destruction, and give him a compassionate heart.

The part of Battle’s story where Cream imparts a pacifistic mindset doesn’t frame her as being right. In that part of the game, they are cornered and under attack by hostile but ultimately mindless drones, and when she convinces Emerl to stop fighting, he almost dies. It’s Cream that learns the lesson there, that sometimes fighting is okay.

This character is already compassionate, he shouldn’t need to be talked into not killing the zombots by a small child, nor should he need her to point out that they’re innocent people who have been made this way by Eggman, because he was made into a killing machine by Eggman twice, and the first time he did die because of it. The character that lay dying in Sonic’s arms, scared and bidding his last goodbyes to his loved ones shouldn’t be the one experiencing this struggle when Omega is also in this arc.

That’s it, really. He’s not Gemerl. He’s a second, less goofy Omega. And it boggles my mind that, despite getting Gemerl’s character, if not his combat abilities, down almost perfectly in Archie, Ian is now subjecting us to this travesty.  

Like with the Archie example above, therein lies the crux of why the steady decline of Emerl/Gemerl that began with Sonic X is pushing me away from IDW: I don’t want to read Ian’s take on this character, because, to me, No Gemerl is better than Badly-Written Gemerl,

This isn’t the first time I’ve said this, either.  Way back in 2016, when I complained about Ian’s portrayal of Gemerl in Panic in the Sky, I said that the way he handled characters that I liked tended to make them the least likeable parts of the stories he wrote. As well as stating my dislike for his handling of Gemerl, I also stated that I used to really like Fiona Fox, moreso in concept than in execution, but under Ian’s pen she was largely an insufferable antagonist, little more than a trophy to make his pet recolour look better, and almost every story she was in only added to the “List of reasons she needs to stop lying to herself and just start the redemption arc already”. Additionally, I said that I didn’t want to see him bring back Neo Metal Sonic or Mephiles in any context, and we got the former, and it was exactly as bad as I thought it would be.

So, that’s basically why I don’t want to read IDW. That’s why, even if the aspect that was a big sticking point for me back when the comic launched was to be undone soon, I still probably wouldn’t pick it up. Because I don’t want to see my favourite Sonic character continue to be written badly by a guy that should know better, and has done better in the past.

If he were simply screwing up Gemerl’s personality the first time he wrote him, I would file it away under the same category as “Emel”, but the fact that he’s done better before, in a book where he had greater restrictions on what he could do with the characters, really settles this as an interest-killer for me.

Well done, Mr. Flynn. I legitimately didn’t think you could make me actually miss SEGA’s tighter control, but you somehow managed it. I would be impressed if it weren’t so sad.

[tenscupcake]

electrostatic potential (28/?)

ten/rose. teen this ch. summary: as the doctor and rose traverse time and space looking for adventure, they slowly fall victim to a mysterious energy that can manipulate their emotions. though confused and unnerved by the cerebral affliction, neither of them understands its cause, or realizes that it could jeopardize their friendship. what will it take for them to discover the truth? unbeta’d... this chapter on ao3 | back to chapter 1 on ao3

The Doctor’s knees buckle beneath him and he crumples to the ground next to her. He presses two fingers into the side of Rose’s neck, tries to ignore the pounding rain and howling wind and concentrate only finding the right spot. Every muscle in his body freezes. Waiting for a heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

But there’s not even a whisper of a pulse.

“No…” he commands, as though her unconscious body will heed his admonition.

Fumbling in his shorts for the sonic, he does a scan of her heart for electrical activity, but detects none.

Asystole.

It feels backwards, but he’s fleetingly grateful it isn’t in a shockable rhythm, because the closest defibrillator is inside the TARDIS, and she’d be braindead long before he could get her there. Calling on dormant medical knowledge, he immediately goes through the motions of resuscitation. Switching on his respiratory bypass to give her as much oxygen as he can, he takes a deep breath and seals his mouth over hers.

It’s the only time he’s ever touched Rose’s lips and felt anything but joy. Instead, it’s only a gruesome reminder of her condition. Her lips don’t mold against his soft and warm; they’re cold and wet from the rain, and utterly unresponsive. Too pliant, too yielding beneath his mouth. Without one of his hands holding her head in place, it lolls limp to the side. He never thought something so pure and beautiful as a kiss could be twisted into something so excruciating.

His hearts are racing like they never have before, hands shaking where they’re resting on her body. Every breath is a ragged gasp. Nausea churns in his stomach. He wants to run around and scream and plead to someone for help but he’s the only one on the island who has even the slightest chance of saving her. Grave statistics run through his head unchecked. Even in the most medically advanced eras, the average chance of survival in these circumstances is less than fifteen percent.

He should have been watching her more attentively, prevented her from running off. Or perhaps he should have listened to Rose when she said they should stay in the room and forget about breakfast. Better yet, he should have rushed them off this planet as soon as they’d seen the Bad Wolf inscription.

Maybe he should have never taken them here in the first place.

Rose is only twenty and she might die here because of his negligence.

Doing his best to hold himself together, he starts the first round of compressions, using his weight to push as hard as he can, hoping it doesn’t break her bones. But a Rose with a few cracked ribs is better than no Rose at all.

He gets to fifteen and stops to check for a pulse again. Still nothing.

She needs epinephrine; her chances without it plummet to less than three percent. But all he has are his hands and his sonic screwdriver.

Impulsively, when his lips touch hers again his mind reaches out, searching desperately for her.

It only takes a moment for her to answer his call.

Soft and warm and familiar, tendrils of her mind swirl at the edges of his, already so attuned to him that they find their way back to him, even in unconsciousness. She can’t communicate with him in any substantial way, can’t use words or emotions, but she’s reaching out to him. Even if her body is hanging on by a thread, she’s alive in there. Confused. Scared. He can’t reassure her with words, but he embraces her mind with his, exuding a sense of comfort and peace. He doesn’t know how he’s able to summon either, as he doesn’t feel either one himself. But if Rose has even a shred of awareness in there, he wants to ensure she doesn’t feel frightened or alone. He breathes comfort into her mind as he breathes oxygen into her dormant lungs.

He can’t let her die like this: pumped full of an artificial sense of security by the very man who’s put her in harm’s way. He has to bring her back.

Suddenly, he remembers something.

There are some telepathic abilities he has never divulged to Rose, and didn’t plan to. He can warp, hide, or implant memories. With the briefest touch, he can scramble someone’s thoughts until they go insane. With a few seconds of contact, a series of simple commands to the brain, he can induce cardiac arrest. Provided they don’t have developed mental barriers, if he can touch someone, he can kill them.

He’s never used his telepathic abilities for malevolent purposes, and he never intends to. But if he can stop someone’s heart, he should also be able to start it. He can hijack Rose’s brain and force it to overload her system with epinephrine.

It’s the highest degree of violation. It flies in the face of informed consent, defies the natural order.

But right now, it’s his only option to save her life.

With a few milliseconds of analysis of her neurological signature, he deploys the appropriate orders, then pulls away from her mouth and resumes compressions to ensure her heart will push the hormone where it needs to go.

One. Oxygen to brain. Adrenaline to heart. Two.

He counts mechanically to distract himself from completely breaking down. Maybe he already is. With the rain pouring down his face, he wouldn’t be able to tell if he were crying or not.

When he goes in for a third morbid kiss, he reinforces his command, hating himself for having to do this to save her. He only hopes she’ll forgive him, if she makes it through this.

He never dreamed he would think such a thing, but he’s once again relieved to leave her lips. He never wants to feel them so lifeless again.

One. Hold on.

Two. Rose.

Three. Stay with me.

Four. Please.

Five. Don’t leave me.

Seven. Rose.

With a loud, heaving gasp, Rose jolts to life.

His eyes shift to her face as his hands pull away from her chest, and yes!!! Her eyes are open. Definitely open.

There’s blinking! Cheeks, lips moving, forehead scrunching. Alive!!!

Relief rushes through his body, deliciously warm and fuzzy.

“Rose!” He yells down to her, euphoric.

She tries to sit up, but something prevents it, weakness or pain or both. She rolls over slightly onto her side instead, coughing and spluttering water out of her lungs.

She doesn’t respond to her name, and looks confused and pained. She puts a hand over her heart, wincing. It’s only then that he notices the branching red veins protruding from the skin on her arms. No doubt other places on her body he can’t currently see.

Lichtenberg figures.

The designs are commonly seen on scorched organic matter and polycarbonate after a storm. It’s rare to see them on flesh, due to how unlikely it is to receive an adequately high amount of voltage and live to show them off. In fact, he’s only ever seen them on skin one other time, and it was his own – when he was struck himself in a previous incarnation. The patterns are caused by ruptured capillaries near the surface of the skin from the excessive temperature of the electrical discharge. He is capable of withstanding much higher voltage without disrupting either heart’s sinus rhythm, but he had the lightning scars on his skin for a few hours. Rose may carry them for longer.

Rose is breathing heavily, but her eyes drift closed as her head comes to rest on the wood beneath her.

“Rose!” He lightly slaps her cheek a couple times, needing to keep her conscious. She blinks her eyes open reluctantly, looking to him for instruction.

“What’s your name?” he asks. He has to shout a little for it to sound clear over the rain.

“Rose,” she answers, voice raspy and not nearly as loud. And somehow, despite having narrowly escaped death, she sounds annoyed.

“What’s my name?”

“Doctor.” Yeah, definitely annoyed.

“What planet are we on?”

“Kaelondaia.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” This one he does just for fun.

“Four.” She cracks just the teeniest hint of a smile, and he can’t help but return it.

Lightning flashes to their right somewhere with a thunderous clap, striking one of the nearby huts. It does no damage, but both he and Rose flinch away from the sound. He hunches down further, ensuring he’s below the level of the wooden railing beside them.

“Can you move? We’ve got to get you inside.”

She nods her head, and he helps her roll over so she can crawl along the rest of the way to the hut. He crawls along with her, though not before taking off one of his shoes (rubber soles) and holding it above her, protecting her from any future strikes.

It’s slow going. The soaked wood isn’t easy on their hand and knees, as Rose is still out of breath and in evident pain.

He’d much rather be carrying her, but that would just be asking to be struck again. They have to stay low to the ground, and Rose seems to understand that. Still, it’s miserable to watch her drag herself towards the door, exhausted and in pain. They have to endure several more close lightning strikes, and each one makes him cower with terror, paranoid that it will somehow find a path to Rose. Not to mention his ears feel like they’re bleeding now. Rose’s eardrums may well be ruptured.

The minute or so it takes them to reach their hut feels like an hour.

Once they’re safely inside, he stands and carefully scoops her up in his arms properly and lays her carefully on the bed, not caring that she’s dripping wet. She relaxes a little, sinking into the mattress and trying to calm her breathing. But before he can lie down next to her and soothe her himself, he has a more important job to do. Pulling out the sonic again, he quickly flicks through the settings and starts to examine her for any obvious signs of other bodily injury. To his surprise, he only finds one real injury, a nasty second-degree burn on her hand where it had touched the metal zip on her jacket. He quickly heals it up with the appropriate setting, and Rose thanks him. She hadn’t realized how much it was hurting until the pain was gone.

“I can fix these, too,” he says, gesturing to the branching burst capillaries on the hand he’s holding, extending up her forearm. “But it’ll take a bit longer.”

“Doesn’t hurt,” she says through her teeth, fidgeting.

Even with the burn gone, she’s still panting and clearly uncomfortable.

“Where does it hurt?” he asks.

She places a hand over her chest again, and he could just kick himself. Of course. A side effect of the epinephrine is a heart rate and blood pressure out of control. Her hand is trembling in his, most of her body quivering with the excess of the hormone. Chest pain is to be expected in such a circumstance.

But it’s not as simple to treat as a few skin burns. Not something the sonic can handle. He knows how he can help her, but isn’t sure if he’s ready to confess what he had to do to keep her alive. He deliberates for a long moment, biting his cheek.

“If you’re okay with it, I can slow down your heart.”

“H-how?”

“I…” He wavers again, recoiling at the mere thought of what she might think. But there’s no time for guilty vacillating: Rose still needs him. “I went into your mind, just for a moment, while you were unconscious. You needed epinephrine and didn’t have any on hand. I used some of my stronger telepathic abilities to dose you from the inside. It was the only way I could get your heart started again.” He pauses and looks down at her, waiting for judgment or shock or horror, but none of them come. “Now that it’s beating again, I can go back in, send a few of the opposite signals to your brain. Correct the imbalance of hormones.”

“Okay. Do that.” She nods, completely unfazed by his explanation of what he’d done and acquiescing to his request to do it again. For a moment, he just stares at her, overwhelmed by how thoroughly she trusts him. To manipulate her brain to the most sensitive degree without a second thought. He confessed to being furthest thing from human just now, and she should be terrified but she isn’t. She doesn’t ask questions about how it works, or suggest less invasive alternatives. She trusts him to make the right call. Trusts her with her life.

Wanting more contact for the precision required for what he’s about to do, he stashes the sonic and sits down, resting a hand on her temple.

Without hesitating further, he directs the appropriate signals to her brain, to accelerate reuptake and metabolism of the epinephrine, as well as circulate the appropriate vasodilating neurotransmitters to counteract its effects in the interim.

Right now, he really is her Doctor. He’s always had some distaste for her using a possessive pronoun in front of his name (not that she does it often), if only because of his aversion to commitment. But she’s just retroactively and proactively given him permission to make life-saving medical decisions for her. Her endearment suddenly feels so true, he almost wishes she’d say it now.

“My Doctor,” Rose breathes out as her body starts to relax.

That floating feeling from this morning suddenly returns as his hearts swell with affection.

She’d heard him. Of course she’d heard him.

Rose’s pulse and systolic pressure start to drop. Before it dips too far, he ceases his telepathic directions, and slowly starts to retreat from her mind.

But before he can sever their link, a wall of golden light flashes brilliantly from the depths of Rose’s mind. A high-pitched screech pierces the silence in his head, and, desperate to escape the sudden ambush, he flees from her mind. But even when they’re disconnected, the onslaught continues: blinding, deafening, scorching. Whatever it is, it’s not confined to Rose’s mind: it’s a telepathic signal, intensely powerful, interfering with his own telepathic wavelength, clawing its way into his mind.

He gasps out as he lets go of her, getting to his feet and stumbling away.

“Agh!”

“What’s wrong?” Rose asks, sitting up now that she feels closer to normal.

He doesn’t answer her, clutching the sides of his head to try to stop the noise and the pain but it doesn’t help. Vivid memories of Satellite Five inundate his brain. A glowing, dying Rose. So many Daleks, so much death.

Something catastrophic has happened. He can sense rigid timelines softening around him now, deforming, changing. This moment ripples through time and space in every direction, broadcasting its incongruity. Rose doesn’t have the power for such manipulation. This isn’t Rose’s telepathic signature. It’s Bad Wolf’s.

Slowly, the effects of the intrusion start to wear off and he lets his hands fall to his sides, panting, staring at Rose in horror. She’s abandoned the bed completely, standing right in front of him, gazing at him with wide, anxious eyes.

“What is it?” she asks, completely unaware of what she’s just done.

“No,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “No,” he repeats, over and over, instead of answering her. Spiraling rapidly into a panic.

Did he not completely rid her of the residual Vortex energy? Is it starting to consume her again, as it did before? Will it take more than just his own death to finish the job this time?

“Doctor what is it?” Out of patience, Rose grabs onto his shoulders and forces him to look at her. “What’s the matter!?”

As he meets her eyes, though, they suddenly flash with a bright light. A golden yellow consumes her irises for a split second, telling him his speculations are correct. And faster than she can blink, it’s gone.

He swallows hard, trying to collect himself.

After a moment to sober himself up a bit, he realizes he has to act fast to figure out exactly what this is. Especially given the likelihood it’s life threatening. But there’s nothing he can do until he gets more information. And Rose will never let him get more information until he tells her what’s going on.

He motions for her to sit on the edge of the bed, and when she doesn’t move, he takes her hand and reluctantly leads her there himself. Sitting down next to her, he suppresses his instinct to pace and rant. Tries to regain his composure. She deserves to know what’s happening anyway.

“What’s wrong Doctor. Tell me what’s wrong rightnow.” Both her her hands curl into fists in his shirt, demanding answers.

“It’s all right, Rose.” He puts one hand on her waist, and another just under her chin, tilting her head so he can look at he properly. “Just sit still for a moment.”

Worried and filled with excess adrenaline as he is, his eyes could have easily deceived him before. Fear can manifest physically as hallucinations; any decent psychologist could tell you that.

Both hearts in his throat, he stares into her cider brown eyes. Waiting.

He doesn’t have to wait long before another flicker of vivid, bright gold emanates from her irises, just a fraction of a second. His hearts palpitate in his chest and he looks away, afraid to see it again.

“No.” He feels like he could scream. Destroy something. This is exactly what he’d been afraid of the night before. This is Bad Wolf. This is an imminent separation, or death. Whatever cataclysm in their timeline has occurred, it can’t be good.

“Doctor, what!” Rose is getting hysterical.

“Bad Wolf,” he murmurs, barely audible.

For a long moment she’s speechless. Processing.

“What’d you see?”

He dares a glance up at her face, and is relieved her eyes are still their natural color.

“Light, in your mind. The same light that was there when I absorbed the time vortex. And just now, your eyes were glowing. Just like they did before.”

A tear rolls down Rose’s cheek, and his hearts clench in his chest at the sight.

“What does this mean?” she asks. “Am I gonna burn up?”

“I don’t know,” he confesses, never having felt so helpless. He wants to reassure her, but doesn’t want to lie to her. “As soon as this storm clears, we’re getting you to the TARDIS to run some tests.”

She doesn’t look at all consoled by the idea of tests.

“Am I gonna die?”

“No,” he insists, and the word cuts through the tension too harshly. “No,” he repeats, softer, taking her hand again. “Whatever it is Rose, I’ll do everything I can protect you. I promise.”

She nods, but still doesn’t look mollified.

“I’d like to go into your mind again,” he suggests. “Try to get some information from you directly. If you’ll allow me.”

“Yes,” she agrees instantly. “Please, Doctor.”

He doesn’t relish the thought of confronting that thing again, but ‘please’ is a word he can’t say no to. Especially not coming from Rose.

He gestures for her to lie on her side, and wraps an arm securely around her as he lies down next to her. He wants to comfort her to some degree while he does this, but this is all the intimacy he can manage for the moment.

As soon as he crosses the threshold of her mind again, it becomes clear that something is growing within. Burgeoning. Something golden and transcendental, getting stronger and consuming more and more of her mind. But unlike the first encounter a few minutes before, it doesn’t torture his mind with dissonant interference. And unlike on Satellite Five, it’s not burning her mind up this time.

The lethality of the Bad Wolf entity was immediately obvious when Rose burst out of the TARDIS doors on that ship. Her physical form couldn’t contain such a massive quantity of energy; it was eating her alive from the inside. Her mind was on the verge of an apocalypse, screaming that it was about to explode.

But right now, it’s calm. Neither her body or her mind recognize it as an invader or threat that must be ejected. It’s as though it’s not something foreign at all, but something that’s been there a long time.

Is it possible the dose of voltage to her neurons activated remnants of her union with the heart of the TARDIS, residual energy left dormant until now? It’s frustratingly intangible, but so clearly real: buzzing in the background, racing through the highways of her mind. A hint of something ancient that triggers his time senses as it trickles through her system. It sends light scattering everywhere it goes. Not destroying or erasing. Healing. Altering.

But altering what? He can’t quite pinpoint it. It’s not human, but nor is it distinctly alien. It’s just… energy. And from the feel of it, a force of life rather than death.

His mind slowed down enough, he suddenly can’t ignore the fear from Rose’s mind overflowing into his. He’s been so fixated on observing and analyzing, Rose has only been able to get hazy flickers of his thoughts. Too vague to giver her any real consolation.

Reassured enough for the time being, he refocuses his efforts, concentrating on opening his mind up more to Rose to share these findings in detail, allow her to feel what he’s feeling from this ethereal presence in her mind. But in addition to that, he reminds her that no matter what, he’ll always be here. That even if his judgment is flawed, and this thing is more malevolent than it would like them to believe, he’ll keep her safe. He overwhelms her with these thoughts and exudes a sense of security and serenity.

She starts to breathe a little easier as she welcomes his reassurance with open arms, but suddenly, he has an even better idea.

With a moment of concentration and a few adjustments within their link, he starts to reconstruct the garden. It’s the perfect place for them to hide away from the rolling thunder and merciless rain that only serve to remind them of her brush with death.

He imagines how they may pass the time, lounging in a field of flowers together, a plush blanket beneath them. Maybe Rose could climb onto his lap and he could cradle her against him as they wait out the remainder of the storm sharing languorous kisses.

Rose isn’t shy about being on board with that idea, but when the landscape of the garden takes form around them, they’re both stunned into a silence that puts these fantasies on hold.

Sunlight brilliantly illuminates their surroundings. More sunlight than should be possible. And yet, it doesn’t burn their eyes to behold. It feels natural, as though this is the way this place was meant to be viewed, or their eyes were designed for more intense light. But aside from the light raining down in sheets from the sky, everything within view gives off an ethereal golden glow that seems to emanate from within. The phenomenon doesn’t discriminate between the living and the inanimate: flower blossoms, trees, and birds are affected just the same as fountains and benches. They all emit a radiance one might expect from Mount Olympus, or some other mythical heavenly place. There’s no real-world analog for what they’re seeing that he can think of, no matter how he wracks his brain.

It feels counterintuitive to interpret this renovation to the garden as ominous, beautiful and seemingly harmless as it seems, but they both do. A chill runs through them both as they process the breathtaking sight.

He turns to Rose, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him, and she squeezes him tightly.

Both of them are speechless for a time, still taking it all in.

“Whatever this is Rose,” he rubs her back and kisses her temple. “I’m not going to let it hurt you. If it makes any plans too, I’ll destroy it. No matter what, I’m going to keep you safe.”

He holds her for a long time, and both of them try their best to comfort one another. Their willpower occasionally slips and their fears seep through, but they never last long. They’ve both become quite adept at sending the right wavelengths to soothe one another.

He loosens her grip around his waist just slightly, and pulls back enough that he can lean down and press his lips to hers.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly.

“Mmm, little better now.” She grins, biting her lip.

“You are in curiously good shape, considering.”

“’Cept my head,” she adds, melancholic.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

He kisses her tenderly again as a distraction. He savors the feeling of her kissing him back, her lips warm and smooth as they melt into his. It helps shake away the memories of feeling them cool and lifeless.

Normally, he’s the one jumping to the worst possible conclusion. He isn’t sure why he’s not doing that now. Something about this new energy – it’s giving him a sense of hope he can’t explain. He was terrified by the memories, and the gold in her eyes, but it’s hard to feel scared in here. It may be naïve and idealistic, but he can’t help the inclination to believe this is different. That she’s not at risk. It’s as though the angelic light has had an intoxicating effect, temporarily dampening his ability to reason.

He hopes he doesn’t kick himself for succumbing to it later.

They ease out of the kiss slowly, still holding each other close. Rose hums contentedly, resting her head on his shoulder. They linger in an embrace for a long moment, swaying lightly together.

 “Oh my God,” Rose breathes into his neck after a time.

“What is it?” he asks, worry returning with a vengeance.

“I got struck by bloody lightning.” She giggles a little, and he exhales with relief. He’s inexplicably glad to hear that sound.

“You did.” He grins despite himself, elated that she’s alive to tell about it, and in his arms no less. “A new level of jeopardy friendly.”

But at her reminder, the harrowing images of what happened assail him anew, and he’s reminded of the fact she ran off by herself. Put herself in more danger.

Anger suddenly sizzles up inside him, spilling into Rose’s mind.

“Rose, why did you run off like that?” He asks, all seriousness now. He pulls back to look at her, meeting her eyes awaiting explanation. “I was about to insist we go back inside. Didn’t you realize how dangerous it was? That the storm was too close?”

“I did.” She clutches onto his shirt, her mind pleading for his forgiveness. “I knew it was dangerous but… ‘s like… I dunno what happened. Something was telling me that I needed to run. And I just listened to it. I didn’t even think.”

“Something like what?” He narrows his eyes.

“I dunno, ‘s hard to explain. Just, that voice in your head. The one that tells you to just go for it when you’re second guessing something. Or tells you when to run away.”

“Hmm.”

It does seem to lend credence to his prominent theory that Bad Wolf is entangled in all this. Bad Wolf scattered pieces of herself across time and space – messages. He only discovered so after the fact, but those messages had all along been a trail leading them to Satellite Five. And it’s seeming more and more likely it’s what led them to this planet. To that cave. And what compelled Rose to sprint off on her own in the middle of a lightning storm. It tingles in the back of his mind again, that sense that timelines are quivering and vanishing around them, aftershocks of this event are rippling through the universe.

“Can we stop talking about it, just for a little while?” Rose asks unexpectedly. “At least until we know for sure what’s going on? I can’t stand thinkin’ about it anymore.”

“Of course, Rose.” He pauses his chaotic analyses for now, and eases them out of their embrace. He takes one of her hands, and opens his other arm away from them, indicating she can choose which path they follow. “Lead the way.”

Rose begins to feel better as soon as they’re walking side by side together, fingers intertwined. Being here takes her mind off the real world, and he knows that. It’s why he brought them here in the first place.

Rose leads him to an area of the garden he hasn’t seen yet.

The path leading there is not an archway of red roses, but a long marble staircase. The stairs are deep enough to take several strides between them, giving a sense they’re more for decoration than utility. The stairway is flanked by two miniature aqueducts of marble flowing with rivers of crystal clear water. Short waterfalls cascade gently at each step.

The courtyard waiting for them has a similar layout to the section they were in before – a neatly divided neighborhood of flower blossoms and walkways. But the botanical selection is different here: dominated by lavenders and white lilies splotched with violet centers. And unlike the other garden, this one has a large grassy area in the center, enticing its passersby to a picnic in the sun.

The Doctor is about to ask if he should conjure them a blanket as they step into the grass, but Rose beats him to it.

“Let me see if I can.”

He grins at her, proud of her initiative.

It only takes a few seconds before a plush purple quilt appears in the center of the grass.

“Nicely done,” he congratulates her.

“Gettin’ the hang of it, yeah.”

He settles down onto the blanket first, and Rose does exactly what he hoped she would: settles onto his lap, straddling him carefully. She runs her fingers through his hair, gazing between his face and their surroundings every few moments. Resting his weight on one arm, he places his opposite hand on her hip, thumb rubbing the skin just beneath her shirt, and savors the feel of her hands. One rests lightly on his shoulder now, the other tucked between the open buttons on his shirt, tracing slow, sensual circles on his chest.

His eyes flutter closed with a sigh. He could get used to this, ignoring their problems and responsibilities in here.

“Why d’you think it’s all glowin’ like this?” she asks softly.

“There’s an excess of energy flowing through you right now,” he explains, trying to make it sound as mild and nonthreatening as he can. “I think this is a side effect of that. The light is in here even when the garden isn’t, though it’s not as readily observable or concrete –”

Rose interrupts his explanation by pressing her mouth to his. She wraps her arms around his neck and presses her body right up against his, and he has to steady himself with his other hand to prevent them from tipping over. He yields to her completely, responding to the insistent brushes of her lips with only tenderness. She breathes out a sigh and sinks into it, telling him that for now, all she wants is to forget her questions and get lost in him.

Which is exactly as he intended.

They’ve already said all they can, and superfluous discussion would only lead to more speculation and worry for both of them. He’d like to get lost in her, too.

He’s more delicate with her than usual, considering he did have to resuscitate her mere minutes ago. But they end up horizontal despite his efforts, him on the ground, his arms secure around her back, tethering her body to his as though gravity won’t be enough. Neither of them escalates the intimacy further, hindered by lingering fears deep beneath the surface. But both are content to immerse themselves completely in this gentle pleasure, unhurried kisses and lingering touches.

They stay entwined for such a long time, even the Doctor loses track of it. But he’s okay with his time senses being dulled by her lips. Even if he doesn’t count the minutes, the more of them they spend kissing, the better. He’s had his first tangible taste of the torment he will endure when he inevitably loses her, and he doesn’t want to waste a second of whatever time they have left.