#anyways. youtube how to bandage knuckles

[crabs-but-better]

lmao had a dean winchester moment

[mama-qwerty]

There's Something About Scarlett

Okay, so, if you've missed it, I watched a little video series called There's Something About Knuckles on Youtube. (Content warning for language and body mutations and such, if you're sensitive to that kind of thing.)

Anyway, Scarlett, if you've missed that, is an oc of mine that acts as the stand in for when I really want to give Knuckles a bestie who can interact with him differently than the canon characters. For this piece, we'll pretend Scarlett was involved with the tragedy that happened in the series.

Okay, everyone up to speed? This series gave me kaiju brainrot for a while, and this fic popped into my head fairly complete.

I tried to summarize the series so you didn't need to see it to follow what was going on (I hope), but I recommend watching it anyway, because it's so good.

~~~~~

The manx cat roamed the wasteland of her dead world.

Ears tuned to any sound around her, she kept her eyes straight ahead. On the horizon. Always on the horizon. There was nothing much to see to her sides, anyway. Withered trees. Brown grass. Bones of those not lucky enough to have learned how to survive now that the world had gone to hell.

Although there were some days she wondered if they actually had been the lucky ones. Days when she wondered if she herself had been plunged into hell. Sent to roam a dry, twisted landscape, for no other reason than she didn’t have the sense to simply lie down and let it consume her, too.

And there were days when she wondered if she should just let it.

But still. In the end, she kept walking.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Years ago, when she was a little girl, it had been green and beautiful. The skies had been blue, the water clean. There had been one tree outside her window she loved to climb. She would spend many a day in the upper branches, watching the clouds pass above her.

She could barely remember that now. It seemed a dream.

Dust flared around her boots as she walked. There was nothing green now. Barely anything grew from the poisoned soil that seemed to spread farther with each passing day. And what did manage to grow was twisted and jagged—once beautiful flowers and plants turned sharp and unnatural.

She moved to stay ahead of it. To find food. To find any life left on this rotting world.

And she moved to kill any monsters she came across.

The metal gauntlet that covered her right arm swung heavily against her, and she thumbed the various controls at her fingertips inside it. The end was a three fingered ‘hand’, tethered to the rest by a long, hidden chain. Various mechanisms inside could send it out with force, to grab or deliver a strong punch to her target.

It was the only piece of Tails’ mech she’d kept. Its mechanisms were simple enough for her to repair herself, and left her free to maneuver quickly. When she’d first hefted it, she was clumsy, her aim off. Now it was practically a part of her.

It had to be. She never would have survived this long without it.

The faded bag that held her few meager possessions bumped against her hip. She traveled light, carrying only what came in useful. A hunting knife, sharpened to a razor’s edge. A journal in which she wrote of every monster she’d slain, every destroyed and decaying town or village or city she’d come across. A water bottle with a built-in filter to remove most of the toxic elements in what little water was left. Some first aid supplies, including healing ointment and a few rolls of bandages—dirty from multiple uses, but better than nothing. A map, old and tattered, hopelessly outdated now but useful in a different way. A compass.

And one more thing. The only non-essential thing she’d kept from her life before it all collapsed.

It was wrapped in the leftover bits of a colorful scarf she’d had since childhood. The cloth had been cut to pieces over the years, used for first aid or to mark safe places. Hardly any was left, just a square a few inches along each side. The item inside wasn’t useful for anything, just a bit of wood about as large as her fist. But she couldn’t bear to leave it behind.

It was the only thing left of her best friend.

She pushed that thought away. Couldn’t afford the luxury of falling into memories, painful or otherwise. The sun sank lower in the sky, stretching the shadows longer along the ground.

The world became much more dangerous at night.

Her ears flicked constantly, twisting and following any sounds surrounding her. The world in general was quieter now, with no birdsong or animal calls. As twilight moved in, no fireflies flickered to life. No crickets chirruped to greet the coming evening. The only sound that fell on her ears was her own footsteps. A rhythmic dull thud on the dry dirt.

She kept walking.

The sun set completely, and the stars above blinked into life. Some nights, she would crane her head back, looking up at the stars to pretend everything was still alive. That the world was whole. That her friends were still with her.

That he was still with her.

For the millionth time she cursed the baron for bringing such a blight to the world. For destroying everything good.

No one was sure where he’d come from. This odd looking creature whose sole focus was to conquer. He’d sent his metal machines out first. Loud, smelly things that attacked their city and destroyed everything they touched.

She and her friends had all banded together to stop him. She, Knuckles, Tails, Amy, Big, Cream, and Blaze, led, of course, by Sonic. To push the baron’s machines back, and keep him from taking one of the last cities left outside his rule. It was hard—the machines seemed to become stronger with each attack—but they’d managed.

But then the baron had sent a new foe. One of flesh and blood. A kaiju, a demon. One hellbent on taking the city down. Those battles were harder. Much harder. It had taken more to keep it at bay.

Tails had done well to arm them. Building mechs to turn away each attack. But every night the kaiju returned, bigger and stronger than before. Each battle was harder won than the last.

And then Sonic had gone off to face the baron alone. To try and end this once and for all.

It hadn’t gone well.

A sound to her right and she stopped, eyes dilating in the dim light as her ears flicked to hone in on the disturbance. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she took slow breaths to try and calm it so she could hear properly.

She stood stock still for a long few moments, eyes and ears flicking around her. Her fingers caressed the controls in her gauntlet. They’d been worn smooth from use.

The sound again. A kind of scrape, followed by a huff. Behind her, to the left. She spun, and raised the gauntlet just in time to block the sharp teeth of a smallish kaiju from tearing off her face. She threw the thing away from her, assuming a defensive stance as it reared back and roared.

It was hard to tell what it used to be. A squirrel maybe. Or a rabbit. The body was stretched and mutated, twisted beyond any sense of recognition, standing just a few inches taller than her. The front hands (paws?) curled into long, sharp claws. Serrated spines poked through the thing’s back, and its face was dominated by more teeth than what should have been possible in its gaping maw.

And where its eyes should have been, like most other ruined creatures, was a bright glow. One that fed and grew the hate and rage within these formerly innocent creatures. Turned them into monsters that only wanted to kill.

It made for her again, and she sidestepped to keep it off balance. She punched it as it passed her, connecting solidly with the thing’s chest, and hearing the snap of cracking ribs. It roared in pain, and staggered slightly as it took a few steps back.

She watched as the dent she’d made in its chest popped back out, issuing more cracks as the ribs healed.

It mutated slightly, spurred by the rage she’d brought out. Now it was taller, spikier, and much angrier than before.

Shit.

Taking a more offensive route, she sprinted forward, drawing the gauntlet back in what appeared to be another blow. The creature followed suit, running straight for her, raising its own claw for a deadly strike.

Just before they clashed, the cat shifted, going into a slide as if coming into home in a baseball game. Her momentum carried her beneath the kaiju, and she slammed her gauntlet against its left leg as she passed, shattering the thing’s calf and drawing out another screech.

But being in such close proximity left her open. It was a gamble, and she knew it.

The thing pivoted, its talons scratching gouges in the hard soil, while it brought a hand down to rake its claws across her right shoulder. She cried out, rolling and scrambling to put some distance between them. Pain flared down her arm, and her hand went numb inside her gauntlet.

Shit

She forced herself to her feet, her free hand going to the wound on her shoulder. The creature stumbled and staggered around to face her, its shattered leg mending itself already, a few new spikes pushing through where it healed.

ShitshitshitshitSHIT

She was just pissing it off at this point. This needed to end. Now.

Flicking the locking mechanism near her elbow, she unlatched the gauntlet from her right arm and shook it loose. Keeping her eyes on the thing across from her, she quickly shoved her left hand in, maneuvering it to access the controls inside as best she could. It was made to work on the right hand only. This was going to make things even harder.

The beast seemed to sense her vulnerability, and made a dash toward her. It roared in anger, its claws spread and ready to tear her to ribbons. As it neared she spun, bringing the gauntlet up to crash against its face, sending it sprawling to her left.

She didn’t give it a chance to regain its feet. Raising the gauntlet, she awkwardly hit the button to send the claw shooting forward on a long chain. It latched onto the creature’s face, and she lifted her arm, bringing it down with a sharp slashing motion. The momentum traveled along the chain, moving like a wave to whip the beast face first against the ground.

It fell with a bone jarring thud, and she heard the crunch when its jaw shattered.

The scream it released made the fur on the back of her neck stand on end, but she moved forward before it had a chance to right itself. Placing her heavy boot on the back of its neck, she retracted her claw hand, before plunging it into the thing’s eye socket. A quick yank and she removed the small glowing crystal that was embedded there.

The creature screamed again, and writhed beneath her foot. But without that shard, it was vulnerable. It could not heal, or mutate. It was mortal again. A quick shift of her foot snapped its neck, and it went still with one last little screech.

One threat dealt with.

The shard vibrated within her metal fist.

It sought a new host.

Moving quickly, she ran to find a softer patch of ground. A dead scrub of bush sat not far off, and she hurried there. Pulling her arm back, she punched the ground as she simultaneously hit the launch button, sending the closed claw deep into the dirt. The flick of a little switch and the fist opened, releasing the shard as she withdrew the claw. A hurried shoveling of soil with the claw turned impromptu shovel, and the crystal was safely buried.

Well. ‘Safe’ was a relative term. Something else could dig it up. Some other burrowing creature could find it and fall victim to its corruption.

But that was the future’s problem. She had a more pressing one right now, in the form of the three long slashes in her shoulder, and the fact that her entire arm had gone numb. If the thing’s claws had damaged anything important, she’d be in real trouble.

She spared one last look at the downed monster. It was still dead. Good. She was lucky it only had one small shard. The bigger the shard, the more powerful the kaiju.

Holding a hand on her bleeding shoulder, she turned to seek out some sort of shelter for the night.

~X~X~X~

After another twenty minutes of walking, she came upon a small grove of trees, and in the middle sat the corpse of the largest. It spanned five feet across easily, and she craned her neck back to see up into the higher branches. This big fella must have only died recently, because the top branches were still covered in leaves, brown as they may have been.

Perfect.

Using the gauntlet as a grappling hook, she launched it above her and latched onto a branch to haul herself up. It took some creative maneuvering to find a sturdy platform, but a few minutes later and she was nestled on a thick branch, her back against the trunk.

Tucking the gauntlet into the crook of a few branches above her, she began work to tend her injuries. Thankfully the gashes didn’t seem too deep, and she cleaned and bandaged them as well as she could. Her arm was starting to feel tingly, and she could move her fingers again, so it seemed she’d dodged the bullet on that, too.

Pulling the journal out of her bag, she scribbled a quick description of the creature she’d encountered. It had been one of the smaller ones she’d taken out, but had dealt her more damage than most others. She was getting sloppy.

She was getting tired.

Switching to the map, she approximated where she’d buried the crystal, and marked it with a little X.

There were a lot of little Xs.

How many more would there be? How many more until she made one wrong step, one wrong move, and she’d become nothing more than another tragic victim of the abominations roaming the world?

She sat still for a long while, staring at nothing in particular.

This wasn’t the way the world should be.

But it was.

And it was all the baron’s fault.

Tails had told them what happened. He’d followed Sonic when the hedgehog went on his own to try and stop the baron’s monster. He’d learned the truth.

Even though it shouldn’t have been possible, the baron had managed to find and crack a chaos emerald. Open it, somehow. It had unleashed all that energy, causing the baron himself to mutate and change into the kaiju that had been attacking the city. And Sonic, with his big heart, had offered to help the baron stop this painful change, to save him from the hell he’d put himself through.

But Sonic had been tricked.

Instead of saving the baron, eliminating the kaiju threat, it simply transferred the curse to Sonic. And so the hedgehog hero who’d been leading the charge to keep the city safe was how its newest danger. It’s biggest threat.

Knuckles had stepped up to lead the rest of them against this new kaiju. At the time they’d had no idea it was Sonic. Tails knew. But he didn’t say anything until it was nearly too late.

Until it was too late.

She blinked. Put away the map. Tucked the journal into her bag. Her hand bumped against the little wooden item wrapped in the last bit of her scarf, and she pulled it out, carefully unwrapping it.

It was a carving. A little totem, with rough cut features. A pointed snout. Long dread-like quills. A little crooked tail. Big round fists.

“Here,” Knuckles had said when he all but tossed it to her. “For luck.”

“Oh good,” she’d replied, giving him a smirk and some snark to match. “I needed a mini-Knux to bitch at me when I screw up.” She’d held it up, and deepened her voice to imitate his. “Nice shot, dipshit. I’m already carrying the world on my shoulders, do I gotta carry you, too?”

He’d laughed at that, making her smile. In truth, she’d been touched when he’d given it to her. Before the attacks started, Knuckles had been more creative. Carving little toys and things for the kids in the city. Helping with the gardens and farms. He’d been happier. More content.

But after Sonic had gone, when Knuckles had assumed control of the team, he’d developed headaches and a self-doubt she’d never seen from him before. She tried her best to keep him from spiraling too far into his own insecurities, but sometimes it was hard. He held himself responsible for each attack, and every death he couldn’t prevent.

“It’s all on my shoulders, Scar,” he’d said once, as they watched the city clean up after yet another attack. “Now that Blue’s gone . . . it’s all me. And I don’t know if I can do it.”

She’d never heard him so . . . so scared before. And it honestly scared her.

“It’s not all you, Knux. You got us. We’re here to help. You just have to lean on us a bit.”

He shook his head, before tilting it toward the large Sonic statue on the balcony of their meeting room. He often sat before it, telling it his fears. His doubts. “He didn’t.”

“Yeah,” she said, moving to block his view of the statue. “And look where that got him.”

At the time they’d thought Sonic was dead. But even when they learned he wasn’t, even when it was much, much worse than death, the point still stood.

She moved closer, pressing her forehead against his. “We’re here, Knux. I’m here. Stop trying to carry this all on your own. Lean on me. I’ve got you.”

He let out a long sigh, leaning a little more against her. “Sometimes . . . sometimes there’s a little voice in my head that tells me I’m not strong enough. That I’ll just get you all killed. And I’m . . . I’m scared it’s right.”

“Well, don’t listen to that voice, it doesn’t know what it’s talking about,” she said firmly. “Listen to my voice. You are strong enough, you are brave enough, and you are trying your very hardest to keep everyone safe. You’re just too damn stubborn to admit you need help sometimes.” She pulled back and flicked his nose. “So stop being a dick and just admit it.”

He snorted out a laugh. “You’re such a pain in my ass sometimes.”

She smiled. “Only sometimes? I’ll have to up my game.”

They shared a laugh at that, two life-long friends, trading barbs.

And two days later he was gone.

Now Scarlett stared at the little totem in her hand. Ran a thumb across its little muzzle. Followed the lines of the quills. He’d even carved his little white crescent moon mark onto the chest.

It was him. And it was all she had left.

Throat tightening and eyes burning, she brought the little wooden echidna to her forehead, and pressed it against her. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears that stubbornly broke free anyway.

She could still hear his screams.

After Tails had confessed that the kaiju they’d been fighting was Sonic, Knuckles had taken off to try and free the hedgehog from the grasp of the broken chaos emerald. There were two large chunks of crystal in the kaiju’s eyes, and Tails theorized that if they were removed, they could save their friend.

So Knuckles had gone to face the monster in its lair. And the rest of them had followed.

It had been a massacre.

The kaiju had grown too powerful. They hit it with everything they had, and managed to remove one shard from its eyes. But it fought with a ferocity none of them had seen before. It killed Big. Shook off every attack. Knuckles went down. All seemed lost.

Amy had tried to get through to Sonic inside, and it seemed to work for a moment. But Knuckles had . . .

She squeezed her eyes tighter.

(“The only way! He dies, then I die! PROMISE ME!”)

Knuckles had sacrificed himself by using the removed shard to change himself into a kaiju powerful enough to take Sonic down. And he had. Just ripped the remaining shard straight out of the other kaiju’s face.

Sonic had been freed, but was a shell of his former self. Blind and battered. Weak. Dying.

The rest of them had unloaded everything into Knuckles. Into the killer kaiju he’d become. He was gravely injured from his battle with Sonic, and it seemed to work.

But it didn’t.

Tails. Amy. Sonic. All killed by the newly revived kaiju that was once Knuckles.

It held both the shards now. And the anger that had built inside Knuckles, the fear and the self-loathing and the doubt, all fueled it into a great rage that spelled the end of their world as they knew it.

The world burned.

Scarlett, Blaze, and Cream had managed to avoid the monster’s fury, and hid among some rocks until it passed. The ground shook with each footfall, and the beast roared in rage as it stalked toward the city.

The city that Knuckles had tried so very hard to protect, fell beneath his fists.

The three of them heard the screams from where they stood. Blaze tucked Cream against her chest, trying to shield the girl from the horror.

The screams didn’t last long.

The beast gave one last triumphant roar before heading west, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.

The three had eventually made their way back to the city, back to the carnage left behind. The stench of death hung thick in the air. There was nothing left. No one left.

They picked through the rubble, finding what would be useful. Blaze took Cream to the east, searching for others to gather together for safety. They wanted Scarlett to join them. There was nothing left here, if they headed toward the mountains, they could hide and survive.

She’d refused.

She headed west. Following the kaiju.

Following Knuckles.

But that’s what she’d always done, isn’t it? Follow this echidna who’d been her best friend since they could walk. The cat and the echidna. Thick as thieves, partners in crime, yin and yang. As close as siblings and twice as stubborn. Able to go from screaming at each other to working like a well oiled machine toward a common goal in a heartbeat.

She’d never known life without him. And having him gone felt like a piece of herself was missing, too.

She wasn’t exactly sure why she was continuing to follow now. When he wasn’t him anymore.

Maybe it was because Amy had started getting through to Sonic, and she hoped she could do the same with Knuckles.

Maybe she hoped she could do something to put him out of his misery.

And maybe . . .

Maybe she was looking for him to put her out of hers.

She’d followed his trail for a while—it honestly wasn’t that hard—but then it just kind of . . . disappeared. As though he’d just vanished into thin air.

But she’d found other things.

Whatever the baron had done to open his chaos emerald had seemed to affect all the chaos emeralds scattered about the world. As near as she could tell, they all shattered, sending shards essentially leaking chaos energy out in all directions. Some were underground, thereby twisting and poisoning the ground and everything around them, but some were found by living beings. And when that happened, it changed their host into creatures only seen in nightmares.

The world ended five years ago.

Scarlett had been there.

And she’d been wandering ever since.

Searching.

And finding nothing but pain, despair, and death.

Tears ran silently down her cheeks, and she let out a shaky sigh as she leaned back against the tree. She hadn’t spoken since that day. Not that there was anyone to speak to. The only people she’d seen since leaving the ruined city were ones driven mad by the horrors they’d seen.

She held her little totem to her chest, eyes cast up through the dead leaves above her. The stars still looked the same. She envied them. No matter what happened down here, they remained. Fixed features in the night sky. Twinkling down on a slowly decaying world.

Her eyes grew heavy, and she hung her bag off a little stump of a branch to her left.

And as she did every night when she began to nod off, she wondered where Knuckles was. And wished she could have stopped him from using that damn shard all those years ago.

~X~X~X~

Oh God did her shoulder hurt.

Scarlett woke as morning light leaked into the world. Her head thumped in rhythm with her heartbeat, and her shoulder provided an accompanying throb. A soft grunt grumbled from her throat, and she stretched her back as well as she could while perched on the branch.

She reached up and scratched behind her ear when a thought occurred to her, making her eyes go wide.

Her hand was empty.

She froze, bringing both her hands into view, as though she needed to verify this sudden reality. Her right shoulder protested, sending a sharp stab of pain down her arm, but she ignored it.

Both her hands were empty.

No. Oh no no no no.

Turning toward her bag, she felt through the worn canvas for the hard shape of the little wooden totem.

Nothing.

NO!

She’d dropped it. Must have. Twisting sharply, and bringing another jolt from her hurt shoulder, she looked down below and could barely make out the little dark brown shape at the base of the tree.

Without thinking, she leapt off the branch, landing with a hard thud on the ground. Her shoulder screamed, bringing a deep grunt of pain from her, but she pushed it aside to almost lunge for the little totem.

Scooping it up, she squeezed it in her fist, bringing it to her chest and near her racing heart.

That was close. This little wooden echidna was the only thing keeping her sane now. If she’d lost it, she would have lost herself.

She’d been lucky.

A deep chested grunt behind her.

She froze, eyes wide.

Oh.

Oh shit.

She hadn’t checked around her before jumping down from the tree. Hadn’t made sure there weren’t any shard controlled creatures nearby.

Oh shit.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Scarlett turned toward the sound. Standing not ten feet away was a large . . . something, that had the very obvious signs of shard possession. Grotesque mutations, elongated features, spikes and scales and horns jutting through torn skin. A long tail, the tip split. A solid, square jaw, sporting sharp teeth. Sloping brow, with two long horns reaching backward and flat against the head. Long spiky growths framing the skull, each ending in a sharp point.

She had no idea what this thing used to be, back before the chaos emerald shard had gotten to it.

But what it used to be didn’t interest her. What it was, and the fact that it had caught her unawares, defenseless, and injured, did.

Swallowing hard, she shifted her stance, turning to face it fully. Heart racing, hand clutching tight around the wooden echidna, she weighed her options.

Option one – scramble back up the tree and try to retrieve her gauntlet, or the knife in her bag.

No good. Her right arm was all but useless to her right now, and she doubted she’d get more than a few feet up the trunk before this thing grabbed her to pull back down. It was easily twice her size, and looked strong.

Option two – run.

That one had potential. But there was a good chance it would catch her easily before she got more than a few yards away.

Option three – fight it hand-to-hand.

She nearly laughed out loud at that one. Even if she wasn’t injured, and even if she had her gauntlet, taking down something this big was a long shot. She hadn’t eaten for the better part of two days, and even now she shook with fear, weakness from her injury, and starvation.

So what did that leave?

As she stood there staring at it, it occurred to her that it hadn’t made a move toward her. It wasn’t growling. It wasn’t snarling. It wasn’t displaying any anger at all. That was strange.

It also wasn’t looking at her. Its eyes were closed. That was problematic, as in most cases the emerald shards migrated to the eye sockets when they possessed a creature. There were a few times when that hadn’t been the case, but those were few and far between.

When another moment passed with the creature not making a move, Scarlett decided to try option two. If she moved fast enough, maybe she could put enough distance between them to figure out her next move.

Moving slowly, she took a step to her right, her eyes still glued to the beast. It tilted its head, but didn’t move otherwise. Another step, and it still hadn’t made to come for her.

Okay. This was promising.

She took another step when a loud screech filled the air, making both her and the creature jerk in surprise. Whipping her head up, she found a large bird kaiju descending toward them, its wings stretched absurdly wide, beak full of teeth. On both heads.

Well.

Fuck.

Opting to pay more attention to the kaiju currently streaking toward her with the intent to kill, Scarlett turned and sprinted back into the little forested grove, moving deeper in. The idea was to block any attacks from above, forcing the bird monstrosity to land and try to move through the trees. It may get stuck—it was pretty big and the trees grew together fairly tightly.

She hunkered down between a few trees, listening and watching the bird pull back to hover over the grove. It screeched its annoyance at losing its prey, and Scarlett had a moment to give thanks for that.

And then the head on the right opened its beak and blew out a line of flame that set the trees alight.

Well, this morning was just getting better and better, wasn’t it?

Scarlett ran to her left, heading for the section of trees not currently on fire, when the bird switched tactics. It landed with a ground-shaking thud, and used its massive wings to fan the flames, spreading them faster and surrounding her as burning branches fell from above.

The other kaiju stood where she’d left it. The bird didn’t seem to pay it any attention.

Shockingly, she didn’t waste much time wondering about that.

Right now her options were to either be burned alive, or make a dash for the other end of the trees and hope the bird didn’t notice her missing until she was far enough away to formulate a plan.

She opted for the second.

The little wooden totem still held tightly in her fist, she brought her left arm up to cover her nose and mouth with her elbow as she made her way to the other side of the trees. As she passed the large tree she’d slept in, the wind from the bird’s wings must have jostled her bag and gauntlet loose, and they fell to the ground at the base.

Finally a bit of luck.

She snatched them up as she ran past, staunchly ignoring the pain in her injured shoulder, and shoved her right hand into the gauntlet. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she burst from the burning trees, and turned in time to see the bird take flight and head straight for her.

This close, she fully registered how huge the thing was. And there seemed to be two emerald pieces in its eyes, one in each head, that absolutely blinded her with the light they gave off.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh God.

This was bad.

With no other options, Scarlett lifted the gauntlet and sent the claw into the open beak of the left head. She latched onto the thing’s tongue, and gave a solid yank when it squawked in surprise. The tongue came free, raining bits of gore and blood down on her as the claw retracted, but it was enough to put the bird off kilter and send it in a crash landing to the ground.

The right head let out a rage-filled screech, and Scarlett flattened her ears to protect herself from going deaf. Its neighboring head shook and coughed out some blood as a new tongue mutated into existence, along with a new trick of it extending out like a long tentacle. It wrapped around her right arm and gave a yank, pulling Scarlett of her feet and dragging her toward the other head’s snapping mouth.

Nononononoshitshitshitshit

Scrambling in a panic, Scarlett managed to roll her body to dig her heels in the dirt, pulling back with all her strength to try and remove the thing’s tongue from her arm. It didn’t work. She was drawn closer, the wind from the right head’s snapping beak blowing across her face.

She held tighter to the wooden totem in her fist.

One chance.

As the distance closed, and the beak eagerly reached for her, she pulled her arm back and threw the little echidna straight down the gullet of the right head. It pulled back with a “GRK”, hacking and coughing in an attempt to dislodge the object from its throat.

The left head roared in anger, and whipped Scarlett around, tossing her like a rag doll into the grove. She collided with one of the trees on the edge, letting out a loud cry as pain flared in her side when her ribs cracked. The edges of her vision blackened, and she bit her tongue hard to try and keep from passing out.

After a moment, the right head seemed to have cleared its airway, and the giant monstrosity turned to her, both heads pegging her with a dark, murderous look.

She had no strength left to fight. Her shoulder wound had reopened—she could feel the blood leaking down her arm. It hurt to breathe.

Scarlett let out a soft exhale, before painfully moving herself into a sitting position, resting against the trunk. The fire hadn’t reached this part of the trees, yet. A few flicks of the latches and her gauntlet fell free from her arm, landing with a dull clang on the ground next to her.

She watched the bird stalk toward her, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Time to stop running,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

They snapped open a second later when the bird screeched in pain. The other kaiju, the one she had honestly kind of forgot about—what with all the fighting for her life thing happening—had moved forward and thrown itself at the larger creature. It punched and pounded on the bird, ripping great handfuls of feathers and guts out with each blow.

The larger kaiju writhed in its grasp, trying to get beak or talon on it to render a retaliatory strike. The smaller creature wouldn’t let it. It snapped the thing’s wings, and when the left head tried its tongue tentacle trick, the first kaiju tore it out.

The two rolled and fought for a long moment, with the bird getting not a single hit onto the smaller monster.

Finally, the first kaiju wrapped its large fists around each of the bird’s necks, and pulled. With a mighty roar, it ripped the bird in half.

Scarlett stared, eyes wide.

The bird parts twitched, the emerald pieces trying to repair the damage. The smaller kaiju dropped the limp necks, before plunging both hands into the eye sockets—one in each head—and removing the emerald pieces from each half. The bird thing twitched and jerked for a moment, before lying still, its blood soaking into the ground.

The remaining kaiju stood still for a moment, breathing hard. Then it jerked, as if waking from a doze, and walked to its left. With another roar, it plunged both hands into the ground, shoving them down until its chest came flat to the soil. A soft grunt, and then it withdrew its arms, filling the holes in as best it could.

Scarlett stared.

That . . .

Did it . . .

What??

Seemingly satisfied with what it had done, the thing now turned to her.

She swallowed.

It moved toward her, dirt caked into the blood still on its hands from the bird kaiju.

“Please,” she croaked, her voice not used to speaking. “Please.”

She wasn’t sure if she was begging for mercy, or a quick death.

It hunkered down to all fours and crawled toward her, lifting its snout as it sniffed the air. This close she could see that its face was scarred, especially around the eyes.

“Please,” she repeated, a desperate whine leaking into her voice. Tears slipped down her muzzle.

She was so tired.

Tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of being alone.

The thing stopped before her, kissing distance away. It sniffed again.

Her body trembled, and she turned her head to the side, hoping it would make it a quick, clean kill.

It leaned forward, pressing its nose against her neck. She gave a little whimper at the touch, but didn’t try to push it away. Another sniff. A sound rumbled in its chest, a kind of growly whine.

“Sscarrr . . .”

She froze.

“Wh-what . . .”

The thing made a little “grumph” sound, before tucking its snout under her chin.

It was nuzzling her.

“Scarrr . . .”

Its voice was rough, scratchy. As though speaking through a damaged voice box. Like one that had been used to roar and growl and give voice to anger and rage for a long time.

She held her breath.

It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

“. . . Knuckles?”

A little whimper answered her, and the kaiju let itself flop down on top of her, tucking its face into her neck. Its arms wrapped around her middle, stilling for a moment when she flinched due to her broken ribs.

“Found . . . you . . .” it—he said, voice softer. “Finally.”

For a moment, Scarlett sat stunned. Frozen. This couldn’t be real, could it? Was she dreaming? Unconscious? Dead? This couldn’t be Knuckles. He’d been gone for years. Taken by the corrupted chaos emerald. Changed. And then . . . she didn’t know. Just gone.

“Is it really you?” she whispered, not daring to hope. Not moving to touch him any more than she was. “Knux?”

A sound like a chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Me.” A pause. “Dipshit.”

She blinked.

And then she laughed.

It hurt, and she hissed in pain, but then she laughed some more.

“You’re still a dick!” she said, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight, her injuries be damned. “But you’re back! You’re here! Oh my God, you’re here. You’re here.”

Her words tapered off into tears, and she held him tight as she sobbed into his shoulder, years of stress and worry and sorrow draining from her in an instant. It didn’t matter what he looked like, she didn’t give a shit about that. He was here. He was him. That’s all she cared about.

“What happened? Where did you go?”

A silent moment. “Somewhere else. Dunno. Just pain. Anger.” Another pause. “Monster.”

“No,” she said immediately, trying to lift his head to look him in the face. He reluctantly moved, bringing them nearly nose-to-nose. “That was those goddamn shards. They changed you. They . . .” Her eyes flicked to where his should be. To where the shards had been the last time she saw him. “What happened to them?”

“Gone.” He sounded angry. Bitter. “They . . . pulled ‘em out.”

“They?”

He shook his head. “Amy. Tails. Different. Horrible. Made me hurt people. Couldn’t . . . couldn’t stop . . .”

He shook in her arms, and she pulled him back to her, hugging tight.

“Shhh . . .” she soothed, running a hand down his back, feeling the different pieces the shards had made for him. When Sonic had been freed from his shards, he’d returned to mostly his true form, but still retained some markings of the kaiju—horns and spikes. He’d only been under the influence of the emerald shards for a few weeks.

But Knuckles had been under their control for years. It stood to reason that his transformation was more extreme.

“Came back. Looking for you. Hoping . . . hoping you were still alive.”

Hoping I didn’t kill you, she imagined he was also thinking, but not strong enough to say.

“Almost wasn’t,” she said, and gave him a gentle poke in the side. “You could have helped with the bird thing, you know.”

Another coarse chuckle. “Saved your ass, didn’t I?”

“Eventually.”

Silence settled over them for a moment, as they listened to the soft crackle of the fire in the trees behind them. Scarlett broke the quiet, her voice soft.

“I’ve been looking for you. I didn’t . . .” She swallowed. “I guess I didn’t want to admit to myself you were gone.”

He didn’t respond for a moment. “I was. For a long time. Wasn’t myself. They used me and when they didn’t need me anymore, they yanked the shards outta my head and dumped me back here.”

“Do you remember anything?”

A pause. “Bits and pieces.” His hands clenched tighter on her shirt. “I . . . I killed them, didn’t I? The others. Our friends.”

She didn’t want to answer. “Last I heard, Blaze and Cream headed out east, to the mountains.”

“Scar.”

“It wasn’t you. It was those shards. The kaiju it turned you into.”

“Tell me, damnit.”

She pulled her lips tight. “Yes. They’re gone. After you absorbed that second shard, you . . . the kaiju destroyed everything.”

He shuddered in her arms, and she held him tighter. What was there to say? The generic placation of ‘it’s okay’ seemed insensitive to the innocent lives lost to his kaiju form. His attacks had been the catalyst that brought about the end of the world. So much destruction. So many lives lost.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing about this was okay.

But she loved him and knew that he would never have hurt anyone if he could have helped it.

“What’s done is done. If you hadn’t stopped Sonic, he would have been the one to cause all this. Same tune, different lyrics.”

He didn’t respond.

She pat his back, leaning forward slightly to press her forehead on his.

“Hey, c’mon. It’s getting a little hot here, and my ribs and shoulder are really screaming at me. I’m gonna need a hand to find someplace to get patched up.”

Knuckles took a few deep breaths, pushing forward a bit against her. He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I gotcha.”

He moved back, before coming around to her side to gently, oh so gently, scoop her into his arms. She sucked in a quick breath when the movement jostled her ribs, but he held her carefully, cradling her against his chest.

Gathering her gauntlet and bag in his other hand, he stepped away from the trees, away from the corpse of the bird kaiju. She looked back at the bird, at the head she’d tossed her little totem into to save her life. Her heart clenched knowing she’d never see it again. She supposed she could have gone back to cut it out of the thing, but . . .

She looked up at the creature holding her so gently. So tenderly.

. . . but it just didn’t seem that important anymore.

“Still carrying me, I guess,” she said softly, a little snicker in her voice. He chuckled, his broad chest rumbling against her.

“Always.”

Knuckles held Scarlett to him as though she were the only lifeline keeping him tethered to this world. To his sanity. She heard his heartbeat within his chest. An odd rhythm, faster than before.

But it was his. He was here. A little different, but the same person she’d given the past five years of her life searching for.

She’d found him, they’d found each other, and suddenly the world didn’t look as bleak as it once had.

Scarlett guided him as they began their travels together. Seeking healing. Seeking a new life.

Seeking peace.

[98prilla]

Saving Face

Inspired by This Video by hotvanilla on youtube. Such good animations, check them out, they have quite a few Sanders Sides animations and they’re all so awesome!

Deceit has a mild breakdown. The other sides help.

AO3

...

         He’s in the kitchen, when it starts. He’s washing up the dishes from the night before, because it was a movie night, and everyone passed out before cleaning anything up. He doesn’t mind cleaning. Finds it a bit soothing, actually, gives his hands something to do while his mind wanders.

His face burns, suddenly, a spasm of pain, and he drops the bowl he was holding into the sink, hand flying to his mouth at his reflection. The scales are gone, his face a mirror of Remus’s, unruly hair, electric green eyes, perfectly applied messy makeup.

           It stays just for a moment, before he grips the counter, another spasm wracking his frame, this time shifting all of him, he can tell from the outfit it’s Virgil this time, and he shakes his head.

           They’re healing, they all are, but he knows Virgil will still freak if he sees him impersonating him, never mind the fact that he isn’t trying to impersonate anyone at the moment. He hisses in a breath, forcing himself to change back, change back, and he does, though it sends a shooting sharp zing up his spine.

           “Um, Dee? You ok?” His head shoots up at the voice, forcing a smile to his face, forcing his mounting fear back as he can feel another change coming.

           “Yes. Fine and dandy. Just finished the dishes.” He sweeps past Patton, letting his smile drop as soon as he’s passed Patton and turned down the hall, staggering against the wall as he is nearly knocked off his feet, the sharpness like a punch to his stomach, rattling his bones. Roman this time, it seems, and he clenches his fists, trying to breathe.

           His gloves flicker in and out of existence for a moment, before they settle into reality, his outfit changing to his own, his face burning as it settles on Patton.  It’s coming faster now, and he can’t stop it, and he doesn’t know what is happening.

         His door seems like a distant mirage through the staggering pain that shatters in his skull each time his form flickers, he’s lost count of the changes, can’t keep track of the flickers he catches out of the corners of his eyes, here a green sash, there black dress pants, now a katana at his hip, now a hood pulled over his head, scales and blue eyes, green eyes and yellow gloves, red sash and black painted nails as he barely manages to shoulder his door open, stumbling across the room to his mirror.

           He’s clutching at his hair, as it changes again and again, his own face unrecognizable, and it hurts, and he just wants it to stop because he’s not even sure who he is anymore, this amalgamation of the other’s traits melding and mixing and breaking and shifting and his reflection is dizzying to look at.

           Then glass shatters, is sent flying across the room, and he belatedly realizes he has a new cut across his unscaled cheek, and for a moment, he’s himself again, eyes wide and afraid, the freckles across the bridge of his nose showing, with how pale his face is right now, and he stumbles back, broken glass crunching under his feet.

           He lets out a soft cry of pain as he drops to the floor, heedless of the glass, face buried in his hands, too long bangs that aren’t his hiding his face, and he feels himself glitching, cracking, breaking, he is sure the cracks in the mirror are etched into his skin, sure that the slightest breeze will blow him apart, send him scattering across the floor.

           It is too much, he doesn’t know why now, it is all hitting him, why now, it is all too much, when he’s had his entire existence to deal with every issue that he’s ever shoved back behind his walls, but suddenly those walls aren’t high enough and he’s drowning and he doesn’t know who he is anymore.

           His gaze shoots up as he hears the door open, scrambling backwards against the wall, breathe catching in his throat, before another spasm rocks him to his core, and he flinches back so hard his head cracks against the wall, tears springing to his eyes, and he can’t find it in him to open them and see what he has become this time, he can’t stand to see the looks on their faces.

           He is just starting to fit in, just starting to be accepted, just started having fun and being involved and not being purely maligned. And now, now this, now he looks like the monster Roman had once thought him to be, and he bites his lip hard as he curls forward, sickening nausea forcing his eyes open, his reflection staring at him from glass shards, a thousand different colored eyes staring back at him, and he doesn’t know which ones are his, if any of them have ever been his, he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to look like, he never has, he’s forgotten his own face.

           “Dee.” A light touch rests on his shoulder, the voice low and soft, trying not to startle him. “what do you need?” Logan, he’s looking up at Logan, or is Logan looking at him? He doesn’t know, he can’t tell, he just shakes his head.

           “I don’t… I don’t know.” He gasps out, trying to stifle the changes, hands fisting in his gloves, oh, gloves, the gloves are back.

           “That’s ok, love. It’s ok to not know.” Roman murmurs, crouching beside him, carefully resting a hand on his knee, gentle enough he can easily pull away if he wants to.

           “It hurts… I don’t understand… I can’t…” he stammers, voice cracking, a silent scream building in his throat, one that would shatter glass if he hadn’t already done that with his own fist, but his vocal chords are closing shut, and he can’t make any more words, which terrifies him, and soon his breath is gasping in and out, sandpaper rubbing his throat raw as he struggles to inhale.

           “Breathe, Dee. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. You can do it, Dee. In and out.” His vision is spotty, but he recognizes Virgil’s voice, counting out the numbers slowly and steadily, whispering out soft encouragements between numbers, until his vision clears, and he realizes he’s slumped back against Remus, who must have slid in between him and the wall to cushion his head.

           “DeeDee? You back?” He nods weakly, collapsing as a final wave of fiery flame races across his face, feeling everything shift back into place, his scales unfurl across his cheek, his capelet settle across his shoulders, his gloves firmly in place.

           “yes. Sorry.” He manages, face pressed against Remus’s shirt, not trusting himself to look at anyone, not wanting to see his own reflection in the shattered glass, afraid of it for the first time in years.

           “Oh, kiddo. There’s nothing to be sorry about. I was coming to check on you, cause you seemed a little off in the kitchen, when Logan heard you shout and the thump against the wall.”

           He winces. He hadn’t realized he’d shouted. Hadn’t realized he’d been that loud.

           “Don’t apologize again, or I’ll rip out your tongue and stitch it back on.” Remus whispers in his ear, making him let out a surprised snort, because that is Remus’s way of saying he’s worried, and he cares, and he’s here.

           “you’re hurt.” Patton murmurs, and he wants to wince at the touch that ghosts over his cheek, where the glass cut it, but he doesn’t, because it is touch, and it feels good to be touched so gently.

           “We should also bandage those knuckles, and get them some ice, so they don’t swell.” Logan responds, and he cracks open his eyes at the almost hesitant note in his voice, peeking out from the sanctuary of Remus’s arms just a tad, just to gauge the amount of disgust or hatred he’d be dealing with now.

           “Hey. ‘S ok, Dee. No one’s mad. No one’s upset. We’re just worried about you, alright? That’s all. Just let us help, ok?” Virgil asks, no doubt picking up on his own anxiety, the cause of which wasn’t hard to guess. Especially since Virgil had lived with them so long before moving. Virgil could read him better than anyone else, save Remus.

           “ok.” He whispers again, looking around the room, seeing Virgil’s words echoed in everyone else’s eyes, and he can feel the truth of it like cream being poured into black coffee, slowly mellowing out the bitterness to something tolerable.

           He lets Remus carry him to the living room, lets Logan and Patton fuss over his hand, lets Virgil slip onto the couch next to him, and intertwine their hands without saying a word, just a silent pillar of support. He lets his head rest against Roman’s shoulder, who starts humming softly, Remus eventually joining to form a strange, lilting duet that flits like a hummingbird through his mind.

           “it’s ok, Dee. You can sleep.” He feels Patton kiss his head softly, as Logan finishes carefully wrapping his hand in bandages, but he doesn’t let go, instead gently stroking his knuckles with his thumb, just light enough to send tingles up his arm. “we’ll be right here when you wake up. Then we can figure this all out together, m’kay?” Patton asks, and he is barely aware of mumbling something that could be a yes, because he is warm, and surrounded by people, and surrounded by touch, that grounds him in a way he hasn’t known in years.

           “thank you.” He whispers, not sure if anyone can even here him, with how quiet his voice is, how small, and it hurts, honestly, to speak, but he forces those words out anyway, because he means them.

           “Of course, love.” Roman murmurs in his ear, and he feels Virgil squeeze his hand gently in agreement, Logan pressing a kiss to his bruised knuckles that sends shivers up his spine in a good way, Remus holding him just a bit closer, Patton gently tucking back his hair, and he is crying, finally, the silent tears slipping out because somehow being loved almost hurts more right now than being ignored and hated, because it gives him something to lose. And the last time he lost, he lost Virgil.

           “you’re not gonna lose us, Dee. You’re not gonna scare us away. We will fight for you, I will fight for you, I promise.” Virgil, soft but fierce, and he can’t tell if he’d spoken out loud, or if his anxiety was just so strong that Virgil could read it with ease.

           “I love you.” He says smally, slipping back into the darkness, every inch of him aching from the forced shifting, sore and feeling like every muscle has been pulled, every part of him stretched wrong.

           “love you too, snake face. Now go to sleep.” Remus replies fondly, and he finds himself unable to disobey that soft suggestion any longer, not if his family will be there when he wakes up.

[hournites]

The Beth Text

Hournite fic (Stargirl)

Summary: When Beth has an emergency, Hourman climbs through her bedroom window.

Read on ao3

~.~

Beth: Rick, I need you. 

~.~

Rick tumbled through her bedroom window, nearly breaking the frame. The glass shook like it wasn’t sure if it wanted to shatter or not, and the flap of her curtains blew up dramatically from the gust of wind. Hourman’s golden cape fell askew in his haste. His eyes darted up, alert in his mask as he oriented himself, sunken elbows-deep in her fuzzy floor carpet.

“Beth!?”

Beth had never heard Rick so panic-struck before. She cringed, feeling bad as she dragged the bag out of her closet through all of her clothes. “In here!”

Quick on his feet, he scanned the room for Cindy or Sportsmaster or another ISA member as if they’d jump out from under her bed.  

Beth pulled out four green plastic packs of X-Pression Bahama Curls from out of the bag and waved them at him. 

Rick stared at her, lost.

It took a good moment as Beth brought in her full-sized mirror to prop up against her vanity for him to be comfortable with the idea that he could let his guard down enough to not assume this wasn’t some sort of sneak ISA attack. Beth was fine.  

He let out a breath he might've been holding too long then narrowed his eyes at her accusingly. “You said there was an emergency.”

“I didn’t say it was an emergency,” Beth replied, tongue in cheek.

Although it totally was one. After Yolanda got caught upside down in that barbed wire that afternoon, Beth had to rush home to finish her math assignment—Without Chuck’s help, she needed to get quadratics right properly for a Chuck-free test— and that ate up so much time she yelped when she realized how close it was to midnight. So she texted Rick. It seemed like the next best option. The first one wasn't worth mentioning.

“I said I needed you.”

“For what?”

Beth smiled brightly at him. “My hair!” She gestured at her braid extensions and crochet latch hook needle in an array on her bed. “They take forever to do on my own, and my hand starts cramping before I’m even halfway done.”

“You want me to use my hour on your hair?”

“Please?” The day was almost over so it wasn't like it would be a risk, and by some stroke of luck, he didn't use it today.

Rick muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch as he peeled his mask off his face. Beth did a little celebratory dance from her bed. If he really wanted to leave he would’ve already been back out the window. 

“Are your parents home?” He looked down at his very obvious JSA—ness. The tight suit, the big emblem belt, the boots. As far as discretion went—it didn’t. Just because Courtney’s parents are cool with hosting teen superheroes at weird hours didn’t mean it was the same for the rest of theirs. 

She smiled and patted a seat for him on her crisp blue duvet. “Not until five in the morning. Night shifts.”

Chuck was on her nightstand where she left him, forgotten in favour of Youtube procuring a how-to video so she could share it with him in a regular way. 

“Rick,” she pleaded in a soft voice when he didn’t move. She discovered recently if she widened her eyes at him, a look would pass his face that yielded him to her knees. And in that precious pocket of time, Beth could lull even his angriest thoughts of war to a whisper. It always baffled Courtney, who tried to replicate her model of calming Rick down after Beth's with little sway.  Yolanda called it Witchcraft™️. Beth wasn't afraid to use it, but she worried sometimes in the heat of a battle if it was taking advantage of him. 

He sighed again and rolled his eyes in a way Beth knew was harmless. 

He kicked off his boots and yanked off his gloves.“How long did you say this takes?”

Beth made a face at the memory of the length of her last hair appointment. “Three hours?” 

“Oh my god.” He approached her, successfully coaxed in. 

“Well!” she added quickly. “I don’t have super strong fingers! That’s why I texted you! It’ll probably be a lot faster with your help.” 

Kneeling on her bed, he sat cluelessly, hands hovering over her thick, kinky hair. It wasn’t witchcraft. Rick trusted her. She never took that lightly.

 Maybe his fingers wouldn’t tire looping the braids in or holding the needle at weird angles for too long, but he was afraid of tugging too hard. He’d totalled a car before, Hourman wasn’t exactly delicate.

 As if she read his mind, she guided his hand to the part she’d just made with her wide comb. 

“I have a strong scalp,” she reassured him. “Just don’t yank and it should be fine.”

“...Okay,” he whispered still unsure, but after an informative tutorial and demonstration by Beth that he studied carefully, they went to work.

 “Why do you want these in?” He was six loops in and a lot more comfortable. He tackled her right side as she took on the left, keeping that part down the middle. He was better at this than she thought he would be, nimble fingers pulling through every time with the crochet tool. “Do you not like how it looks?” He tugged on the piece he was working on. 

“My hair?”

“Yeah.”

 “I do,” she said. “But it’s been a really long time since I’ve done anything more than a perm for our family pictures. Elementary school.”

“I remember.”

“My family portraits?” She frowned curiously. “I don’t think I’ve ever pointed those out.” Although surely he’d heard her talk about them on FaceTime calls to her parents every October in the cafeteria. And they hung on the wall of her staircase. He’d been here a couple of times since the JSA rebranded. It might’ve been an obvious object for Rick to notice, just something Beth had been blind to.  

“No, your braids,” he clarified. “Two thick ones down the back from second to fifth grade. They were cute.”

 Rick continued with his twist, concentrating intently. She watched him, stopping her own braid as he finished his down her back. Was she touched or stung or perplexed? She wanted Chuck to help her navigate her feelings. Beth couldn’t decide. 

“What?” he said. 

 “I didn’t think you noticed.”

 “We’ve been in every class together since we were seven.”

 “You never talked to me.” 

 Nobody ever talked to me, she wanted to say. 

 Rick lowered his hand, meeting her gaze through their reflection in her mirror. It was quite the image. A black teen girl in a washed-out grey tank and shorts sitting in front of her towering white, lean and reluctant hairdressing superhero. Beth’s lightbulb burnt out the other day and her dad never got around to fixing it, the dimly lit bedroom and late-hour made it all the more striking. And now they were venturing onto deep JSA taboo talks. Yolanda’s scandal. Court’s father. Rick’s bruises. Mr. Dugan's Starman. Henry’s mother. Beth’s bitterly pathetic history of social aptitude. She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

 “I know.” The hourglass sand trickled steadily into its base. “Beth, I’m sorry.”

 She touched his spandex-clad knee. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she wore a tight smile, despite her sudden pressing urge to cry.

 “Rick. I’m not mad at you.” She uttered a soft laugh at the gentle way he stroked her hair in response, relief even. “It was never you. You still sat beside me all those years before Yolanda.”

“I never realized you were mad at all.”

“Well, that’s just stupid.”

“It’s not,” he replied, taking over her side of the part. He didn’t even need to refer to the youtube video or her completed braids anymore. She tried to help him but he knocked her hand away. She rested them over her knees after a moment of letting them hang in the air. 

“You’ve always been so...Beth.”

 “So Beth?” she repeated incredulously, smirking a little. 

He got hot under his collar, shifting in his position with a flush. “Shut up,” he said so uselessly she actually laughed out loud. “You know what I mean.” He was running out of time, but her hair was almost all done anyway. “Helpful and cheery and full of smiles without spite, even when people rejected you. Even if they don't deserve you.”

“Not everyone hurts the same way, Rick.”

“Yeah.” 

She knew he knew that now, experienced it firsthand growing close to her, Courtney, Henry and Yolanda. 

“My mom told me when I was little, that the last thing the person that hates you wants to see is your smile.” 

Rick reeled back. 

She frowned at herself. “I faked it a lot at first. But the more I smiled, the happier I felt with myself. The more I found joy in the small things in my life...Even if I was lonely.” 

Two arms wrapped around her middle from behind her, surprising Beth out of her internal monologue. Rick dropped his head against her shoulder.

 Beth had touched Rick a hundred of fleeting times. She fell into his arms or yanked him back from a rash fistfight, high-fived or brushed his fingers when passing school notes. She'd wrapped bandages around his purpling knuckles. Even reached for his hand a couple of scary times. 

 This was not that. 

This felt warm and spell-binding, even with the huge hourglass pressed against her back. Slowly, she reached up to run her hand through his brown mussed white boy hair, feeling the silk of his cape and hood. Rick shuddered at her touch and said something else, muffled into her skin. It was like he ached for this, needed it deep in his bones or soul. Beth didn’t know what to do. Or if there was anything to do. She had never been this close to a boy before. She had never been this close, physically, with anybody. Maybe the girls had it wrong. She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. But the lightheaded dizzy feeling with Rick's breathing near enough to hear was not something she ever wanted to let go of.

Maybe Beth was the bewitched one.  

His time ran out. He held her just the same. It was nice to know it was possible, she thought wistfully. That Rick Tyler could be as intimate and secure without some external source of strength. 

“Thank you for spending your hour with me.” 

She turned around, and her hair moved freely with her head, shoulder-length and new. It weighed heavily. A tension headache crept into her temples from her edges, though she wouldn’t tell him because they weren’t of any fault of Rick. Twists and braids always had a certain ache to them on the first day. It was late too, Beth just needed a good sleep. It didn’t seem hard, now. Something about this hug made her peacefully sleepy. 

“Your welcome,” he said, his eyes softening upon hers once again. 

She didn’t even have to pull her sorcery moves. She could already hear Yolanda’s voice in her head. Double Witchcraft!™️

Lucky Beth. 

“Let me know what kind of an emergency I’m getting myself into next time. I’ll be there.”  

"Even if it's just my hair?" she joked. 

"Yes," he said. It sounded like a lingering promise. She hoped he knew it went both ways.   

"Okay." Beth closed her eyes and hummed. "I'll text when I need you." 

[kousin-itt]

I Got Your Back - Part 5

The final chapter of this short fanfic! Glad you guys seemed to like it! Enjoy!

Also, bonus points to anyone who could catch the numerous obscure references to shows, Youtubers, etc. that I also enjoy. :)

Part 5

He smoothed out his trousers and adjusted his bowtie. Was that a stain on his pristine white collared shirt? Wait, no, that was a smudge on his glasses. He clutched his book closer to his chest and ventured onto the recreation area. There were children playing on the playground. There were children kicking a ball around. There were children standing in groups and catting happily. He approached group after group of young people his age, but they turned their backs on him.

“Nerd!”

“Who brings a book to the playground?”

“Loser!”

“Why would we want to play with you?”

“Four-eyes!”

“Why can’t you just be normal?”

“You’re so weird. Why are you bothering us?”

“Nobody likes you.”

“You’re not tough enough to be like Professor Time. He was awesome, a hero. You’re nobody.”

Balthazar eventually gave up. He was beginning to miss playing with his toddler sister, even though he used to complain about not having a friend his age or gender.

“I don’t need a friend.” Balthazar finally decided. He went to the empty baseball field, not noticing the playground and children disappearing around him. He picked up a stick and drew a circle in the dirt. “This is my circle. Nobody can be in here except me.” He stepped into the circle and sat in the middle of it. He looked around.

Completely alone.

“I like it like this.” Balthazar told himself. “I like being alone. I don’t need friends.” He opened his book and began to read. He readjusted his glasses, but his eyes were still blurry. Then, he realized tears caused the wetness on his face.

Nobody comforted him.

“It’s not my fault!” Balthazar sobbed, his face red with embarrassment from being so emotional. He rubbed his fists against his eyes, desperately and silently pleading for them to stop producing tears. “I want a friend. I can’t…..I just can’t……”

A shadow appeared in his circle.

Go away, shadow. Balthazar thought for sure this was a trick of his water-filled eyes. But when his eyes finally cleared, he realized the shadow had a more definite shape. The shadow was attached to someone: a child his age, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and a pair of glasses with orange-tinted lenses. He had a mess of wild curls for hair.

“Hi there!” the boy greeted with a wide smile. His enthusiasm seemed to startle Balthazar. “I’m Vinnie! Can I come in there, too?”

“No, stay back!” Balthazar pleaded, jumping to his feet.

Vinnie’s smile turned to a look of confusion. He even tilted his head to one side like a perplexed puppy. “Why?”

“This is my circle!” Balthazar insisted. “Nobody can cross that line!”

“Why not? I don’t understand.” Vinnie took a few steps forward, crossing the border to stand in the circle.

Balthazar stared in shock. “No. How can you cross that line? You can’t be in here. This is my circle.”

Vinnie looked to the circle in the sand. “Why can’t I be in here?”

“I don’t know how to make friends. No one wants to be my friend, anyway.” Balthazar hoped he wouldn’t start crying again. “I’m better off alone.”

“I’ll be your friend.” Vinnie offered.

“You don’t want that.” Balthazar sighed. “You can’t be in my circle. I’ll just stay here by myself.”

Vinnie went to the edge of the circle and kicked the sand, breaking the line. “See? We can erase the line!”

“No!” Balthazar pleaded as Vinnie kept kicking the sand. “Don’t erase my circle!”

Too late. The circle was gone.

Vinnie dusted off his shorts. “Now can we be friends?”

Balthazar slowly shifted his gaze from where his circle used to be, locking his turquoise eyes onto Vinnie’s cocoa brown ones. Then again, he couldn’t really tell Vinnie’s eye color with those tinted lenses. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

“Because I like you. I think you’re cool.” Vinnie held out his hand. “What do you say?”

Balthazar smiled a little at last. He reached out to take Vinnie’s hand.

The light blinded Cavendish, and he flinched. He let his eyes adjust a bit before he opened them fully. Of course, without his glasses, the world was a blur.

“About time you woke up.”

Someone moved into his line of sight and put his glasses on his face. He blinked owlishly. Cavendish took in his surroundings to fix the disorientation: he lay in a hospital bed, Morgan stood beside him, and he was hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV. He felt mentally alert but physically exhausted. The room was too bright. He felt sick to his stomach and hungry at the same time. Morgan’s hair was messier today. Or maybe her cowlick was just acting up and refusing to let her hair lay neatly. Cavendish wondered why he would bother noticing that. He sat up and hissed in pain. He looked down and under the collar of his hospital gown. Bandages coiled around his torso from hips to armpits. Bruises graced his knuckles, and he touched the skin around his eye where shards of his previous pair of spectacles cut into his face. He accepted the water Morgan handed him.

“When did I get here?” Cavendish asked. His voice was hoarse. He drank more water.

“You’ve been out cold for a day and a half.” Morgan explained. “Surgery took a few hours. I delivered the Triton’s Amulet to the Preservation Department to take to the Jewelry Museum. Cobalt is dead, but Block doesn’t blame you or Vinnie for it since it was in self-defense.”

“Vinnie?” Cavendish suddenly felt a flood of memories rush back to him. “Where is he?”

“Over there.” Morgan jerked a thumb behind her. “He hasn’t left that spot since you got out of surgery.”

Cavendish saw Dakota in cushioned chair near his bed. Dakota had the seat reclined, and he slept soundly. He long since replaced his blood-soaked clothing with jeans, sneakers, and an old band T-shirt. His glasses sat crookedly on his face. Cavendish took note of the bandage on Dakota’s head, the busted lip that scabbed over, the bruises on his knuckles, and the largest bruise that went across his neck.

“Is he all right?” Cavendish asked.

“He’ll be fine. You’re the one who almost died.” Morgan assured. “You wouldn’t be here right now if Vinnie hadn’t remembered my training. I’m sure you’ll find a way to thank him while you two are on medical leave. Rest. I’ll have Vinnie get you something to eat.”

“I don’t want to wake him.” Cavendish said. “He’s probably exhausted.”

“Nah. He’s practically narcoleptic.” Morgan stole the pillow from under Dakota’s head and hit him the face with it. “He’s awake. You can get up now.”

Dakota yawned and set his glasses more comfortably on his face. He noticed Cavendish and immediately jumped to his feet. “Hey, Cav! How are you feeling?”

Cavendish watched Morgan leave the room. “I’m sore, but I’ll be fine. You?”

“Bumps and bruises compared to you!” Dakota’s laugh was forced. “You really had me going, Cavendish.”

Cavendish gingerly touched his ribs, where the bullet entered him. “Thank you, Dakota, for saving my life.”

“It was nothing.” Dakota shrugged.

“It wasn’t nothing. It was something.” Cavendish insisted. “I would not be here if—”

“But you are here! It’s no big deal.” Dakota assured. “Besides, you saved my life first. I was getting strangled to death and you came running in and you just—BAM! Smashed right into Cobalt and knocked him off me and saved my life. So, naturally, I had to save your life, too! So it’s no biggie.”

Now, Cavendish understood why Morgan made a point to mention that Cavendish needed to thank Dakota for the rescue. She didn’t say that to make Cavendish feel guilty. She wanted him to make sure Dakota didn’t sweep this traumatic incident under the rug. Dakota had a smile on his face but pain in his eyes. He had been scared, surely, that things would not work out like they did. Cavendish promised himself he would follow Morgan’s command and find ways during their time off to make it up to Dakota.

Just one thing bothered him.

“Dakota…..what you did…..”

“I did what any partner would have done.”

“But you did more than that. You made me talk about my hometown. I could imagine the trees, and you helped me remember the fond times I shared with my baby sister. You did more than administer first aid. You kept me calm and helped me gain a sense of peace when I thought for sure I would die. That sort of thing is not expected from a partner, a work colleague. It’s something that…..something that….”

“What?”

“It’s something a friend would do.”

Silence overcame the pair. Dakota’s grin became genuine. “Whether you like it or not, Balthazar T. Cavendish, I consider you my friend. I knew you were scared, so I tried to make you smile. I did everything in my power to save your life, and to keep your hopes up; because if you didn’t make it for whatever reason, I didn’t want you to die scared.”

Cavendish rubbed the hem of the blanket draped over his legs. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

“Because you’re cool. Because you’re an awesome time traveler agent. Because it’s fun to mess with you. Take your pick.” Dakota smirked playfully. “Hey, your sister’s single, right?”

Cavendish frowned. “Yes, and she’s bisexual, but she is still out of your league and would never date you.”

“We won’t know until you take me to see your hometown, like you promised!”

“I recall much of the mission, and I did not say I would take you home for a visit.”

“Come on! You take me to see your family, and I’ll bring you to my grandma’s house for a proper Italian dinner.”

“I will consider it.”

“I’m not hearing a ‘no.’”

“I’m not saying a ‘yes.’”

Dakota laughed, and Cavendish smiled. The tension cleared between them at last, and Cavendish felt they could move forward from this experience.

“But, seriously, don’t think you owe me anything.” Dakota said. “You saved my life, I saved yours. We’re even. Equals. Partners.”

“I think I like ‘friends’ better.” Cavendish realized he said that out loud without meaning to. But Dakota smiled wider, so Cavendish didn’t bother mentally berating himself. Cavendish held out a hand. “Thank you, Dakota. Truly.”

Dakota took Cavendish’s hand in a firm grip. “I got your back, Balthazar, as long as you got mine.”

“Always.” Cavendish promised.

“Good. Hey, you hungry? The food isn’t horrible here, but it’s still hospital food.”

“Tea and a scone, if they have any.”

“Oh, like a proper British gentleman?”

Cavendish rolled his eyes. “Is this what our friendship will be? You poking at every little thing I do?”

“Yeah, and you poke fun at everything I do, and that’s what makes us a great team.” Dakota shrugged. “Okay, tea and a scone, I’m on it!” He marched from the room, a man on a mission.

Cavendish sighed and shook his head. He still smiled. I suppose having Vinnie Dakota as a friend isn’t the worst thing in the world. He rubbed his ribs and laid back in his bed. What more could I ask for in a friend?

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Name: Nate Santos Species: Human Occupation: Pastry Chef at Fondante’s Inferno Age: 34 Years Old Played By: SB Face Claim: Conrad Ricamora

“Everything was perfectly healthy and normal here in Denial Land. Why did it have to change?”

TW: Car accident, head trauma

Normal. That’s what Nate’s life had always been. He was born to normal parents, had normal siblings, went to normal school in a normal town. Some might say his life had been boring, but Nate would beg to differ. He loved the stability, the predictability. He was content to keep on the path he’d always walked, supported by all the completely, utterly normal people in his life. But what is normal, anyway?

It was the end of another very normal day with Nate filling in for his father at Santos & Sons, his family’s hardware store. Nate was helping an older woman named Edith gather up a few items. She was looking to beef up security around her home, something about the postman destroying all her packages. Nate didn’t pry, instead eagerly helping her find the things she needed. A strange mist began to cloud the windows of the store, an ominous fog falling over the whole street. The fluorescent lights began to flicker and the hair on the back of Nate’s neck stood on end. Meanwhile, Edith seemed none the wiser, babbling on about setting booby traps around her lawn.

Once the woman thanked him and the dull tink of the bell signaled she’d left, Nate closed up and headed out into the fog. It wasn’t entirely unnatural, they did live in Maine after all, but it was the floating, glowing eyes that had Nate’s heart dropping into his stomach. His fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, as the eyes began to float past him, attached to large shadows, seemingly swimming through the dense fog. The next thing he heard was the blaring of a horn, the flash of headlights, searing pain and then everything went dark.

Nate woke up a week later in the hospital, his head shrouded in bandages and his family by his side. He’d been in a terrible wreck, they’d said. He’d been put in a medically induced coma and things were touch and go, but he was the lucky one. Poor Edith, she hadn’t been paying attention to the road. Must have been focused on her new purchases. His father explained everything he’d missed while he was unconscious, all the books he’d started to read to him, all the well wishes his sister’s followers had sent him, all the cookies his mother had baked. But none of that mattered to Nate.

In the corner of his sterile, white hospital room was a snake in a lab coat, holding his clipboard. Not a snake, but a snake person. Covered in scales, flicking its tongue out every now and then, scribbling away on its pad. No one else seemed to care, or even notice! How could they not notice? His vision blurred and he was out again.

It’s been a few weeks since Nate was discharged, but he doesn’t feel like he should have been. Maybe transferred to the psych ward, but not let out into the world. A world now filled with literal monsters. Scaly people, people with trees growing out of their backs or needles for teeth. Nate didn’t know what was going on and to be honest, he was too afraid to find out. Most days, Nate pretends his head is hurting too much or he doesn’t feel up for going out, but in reality, he’s curled up on his couch, afraid to look out the window for fear of what nightmare creature he might see.

Character Facts:

Personality: Kind, cautious, easily startled, hard working, optimistic, naive, fatalistic, paranoid, melancholic

Used to be the life of the party before his accident. He threw rowdy game nights, he was on his college soccer team, he was even an avid scuba diver. Now he has the makings of agoraphobia and tends to prefer staying home to going out.

Owner and pastry chef at Fondante’s Inferno. While it’s a far cry from his family’s business of hardware, his parents are incredibly proud of him. He’s taken a sabbatical from the storefront, baking only in his own kitchen for now. He will still ship orders.

Nate is SCUBA certified. He’d always been a bit wary of deep sea diving, but he loved swimming in the shallows around coral reefs. It was like a whole new world. Now, he sees literal sea monsters, so he’s given up the hobby.

Nate doesn’t like to curse. He prefers to say things like “fudge” or “sugarsnaps” instead.

He isn’t formally trained in baking. Nate learned everything he knows from YouTube videos and a few of his mom’s old recipes.

Nate collects lawn gnomes. The kitschier the better.

[searchingwardrobes]

Burn the Ships

Happy birthday, @bethacaciakay ! It is crazy to think about how long I have known you now. Have I really been writing fanfic that long? But yes, I have, because you were just a teenager when you first starting commenting on my fics over on Ao3. I pray you have an amazing day and an awesome year. Don’t let the world change you, my dear! (And that’s all the mothering you will get from me today, duckling.)

Speaking of ducklings, while I was thinking over what to write for your gift, I heard the song “Burn the Ships” by For King and Country for the first time while driving. When I got home, I immediately looked it up on YouTube, and guess what?!? The music video features the Lady Washington, aka The Jewel of the Realm, aka the Jolly Roger. Not only that, the Smallbone brothers give off serious Brothers Jones vibes in that music video. And apparently this video has been in existence for almost a year now - how did I not discover this sooner!?! Anyway, so here is an angsty Lieutenant Duckling fic for your birthday! (And anyone who is interested can check out the music video here.)

Summary: Emma Swan stood shivering on the beach, her entire body numb as she stared out at the smoldering remains of the Jewel of the Realm. She pressed her eyes shut and felt the sting from her constant crying. Her lieutenant had promised her he would always survive, always come home to her. Yet coming home sometimes isn't enough.

Rating: T

Words: 3,000 and some change

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @jennjenn615 @welllpthisishappening @kday426 @let-it-raines @teamhook @kmomof4 @bethacaciakay @profdanglaisstuff @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @tiganasummertree @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @distant-rose @courtorderedcake @xhookswenchx @shireness-says @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @wellhellotragic @branlovestowrite @cocohook38 @killian-whump

Don't let it arrest you

This fear is fear of fallin' again

And if you need a refuge

I will be right here until the end

The earth shook with the canon bombardment, and the sky flared with the fire of explosions. Emma huddled in the corner of the room, Henry clinging to her chest, tremors rippling through his small frame every time the castle shook. Emma rocked him, rubbed his hair, whispered assurances into his ear.

The door to their chambers burst open, and Emma jerked at the sound. Had King George’s men come ashore? Were they already storming the castle? She deflated when she saw her mother standing there, the light of her lone candle flickering over her features.

“Emma, come quickly.”

The urgency in Queen Snow’s voice brokered no argument, and Emma rose, adjusting her four year old son in her arms. They hurried down the corridors of the castle, Henry whimpering with each canon blast that shook the walls. Down, down, they raced to the armory where all the residents of the castle, from the cook to visiting dignitaries, huddled in fear.

Only now, as the Queen barred the heavy door, did Emma notice the bow and quiver of arrows slung over her mother’s back. Snow reached up to one of the high shelves for her husband’s sword and scabbard. Wordlessly, she strapped it around her daughter’s waist. Emma’s gaze latched onto her mother’s with barely concealed terror.

“He’ll come home, won’t he?”

Snow tried for a smile, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes, and she didn’t answer her daughter’s question.

“He promised,” Emma said with a tremor in her voice.

All her mother could do was embrace her, Henry sandwiched between them.

************************************************************

As the sun rose over Misthaven, King David’s company of knights could clearly see that their defenses were for naught. The Royal Navy had indeed been victorious, and King George’s ships had turned and fled.

Yet victory did not come without loss.

The people of Misthaven swarmed the docks and the rocky shores, some gaping at the fires and the debris, others tending to the wounded, still others fishing bodies from the sea. Mothers, sisters, lovers - their wails of grief and cries of joy filled the air. Emma shoved past them, shouting in irritation that the princess needed to get through. When she reached the very edge of the pier, where the Jewel of the Realm always swayed proudly in the water, the crowd seemed to part like the Red Sea of old, every face downcast and filled with pity. Emma knew before she even saw the derelict schooner in the distance, before she even smelled the smoke. She saw it in the eyes of everyone around her.

The Jewel was lost.

She fell to her knees with a loud cry. When she had found herself a widow at eighteen with a baby on the way, she had been numb and tears had alluded her. Yet now, her heart seemed to make up for lost time. She swayed with the weight of her grief, sobs wracking her body, pain ripping through her and tearing her to shreds. Her parents were there almost immediately, her mother calling her baby, her father cupping the back of her head with tenderness, both of them rocking her the way she had rocked Henry during the long, horrible night.

“Killian! Killian, no!”

The crowds upon the shores of Misthaven fell silent as their princess grieved.

Burn the ships, cut the ties

Send a flare into the night

Say a prayer, turn the tide

Dry your tears and wave goodbye

Liam Jones refused to succumb to the waves. Not because he feared drowning, not because he didn’t want to die, but because he had to save his little brother. He had promised their mother long ago that he would take care of Killian, and so far, he had kept it. He wasn’t about to break that promise now.

“Come on, little brother, help me out here,” he muttered as he struggled to keep Killian’s head above the water. He longed to hear him mutter it’s younger brother.

Liam almost wept when he felt the pebbly soil beneath his feet. He dragged himself up out of the waves on his knees with Killian slung over his shoulder. The water around them was stained red with blood. It could have belonged to either one of them, but he feared it was mostly his brother’s. He tried to lay Killian down gently upon the sand, but his head bounced anyway. Liam collapsed next to him, rolling over on his back, trying to catch his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut to gather his strength, then turned to look over his brother’s wounds.

“Oh Killy,” he whispered, swallowing back the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. The end of Killian’s left arm was nothing but mangled, bloody flesh. The right side of his face was so matted with blood, Liam wasn’t sure what injuries lay beneath, except where the bone showed through high on his cheek. Yet his chest still rose and fell the slightest bit, so he was alive. Liam hurriedly shed his linen shirt, ripping it into strips for bandages. A sound far down the beach caught his attention.

“Over here!” he yelled, waving his arms over his head once he recognized the colors of the Knights of Misthaven. He turned his attention back to Killian, binding his wounds as best he could. “Stay with me, brother, please. The princess will never forgive me if you don’t.”

How did we get here?

All castaway on a lonely shore

I can see in your eyes, dear

It's hard to take for a moment more

Emma stood shivering on the beach, her entire body numb as she stared out at the smoldering remains of the Jewel of the Realm. She pressed her eyes shut and felt the sting from her constant crying. She thought back to just yesterday evening when the navy had rushed for their ships at the approaching invasion. Emma had stubbornly yanked Killian to her, fists gripping the lapels of his naval coat until her knuckles turned white.

“I’m frightened, Killian.”

“Emma -”

“No! Don’t patronize me. Every man I’ve ever been with is dead!”

She choked on the admission, and Killian wrapped his arms around her.

“Graham when I was just a girl,” she muttered against his chest, “Prince Baelfire less than a year after our arranged marriage, and even that fool Walsh who courted me two years ago.”

Killian’s chest rumbled beneath hers as he chuckled. He’d never liked Walsh. Emma hadn’t been overly fond of him either, but when you’re heir to the throne with a two year old son . . .

“I’m serious!” she cried, shoving him in the chest.

Killian grinned that crooked smile of his and arched that infuriating brow. “You don’t have to worry about me, love. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.”

Emma bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes. “You promise? That you’ll come back to me?”

He tucked a strand of hair tenderly behind her ear. “I promise.”

A breeze blew from the wreckage, bringing a tinge of smoke with it. Emma put her fingers to her lips, remembering the searing kiss goodbye he had given her to seal his promise. A sob sent her doubling over once again at the memory. She blinked through her tears to see a flash of gold bobbing in the water. She bent over and picked it up. She held it in her hand, her thumb rubbing over the engraving of a swan. Tears blinded her vision. It was the compass she had given him the day he made Lieutenant.

“Emma! Emma, come quick!”

She spun around to see Ruby racing towards her, her cheeks bright red from her run and the wind of the sea. When she reached Emma, she was gasping for air. It was clear her mother’s best friend had run as fast as she could to fetch her.

“Come, Emma,” she gasped, “it’s Killian.”

“What?”

“He’s alive!”

**************************************************************

“He doesn’t want to see you, Emma.”

“What?” Emma shoved against Liam’s chest, but Captain Jones stood imobile in front of her. Of all the things she had worried over as she’d raced to Killian’s sick chamber, him refusing to see her wasn’t one of them. She was just about to either command in the name of the crown that Liam step aside or pummel him with her fists (or perhaps both) when Killian’s screams rent the air.

“Emma,” Liam said gently, taking her by both shoulders and physically moving her further down the corridor, “it’s bad.”

Killian’s cries of agony reached them again, and Emma’s knees almost buckled at the sound. Liam put his arm around her, and gently led her outside into the cool air.

“I - I have to see him,” she begged, “what if he doesn’t . . . if he doesn’t . . . “

“I think he’ll make it,” Liam assured her, “but his injuries are . . . life altering.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “You don’t mean . . . will he be able to walk?”

“Yes, of course, it’s not that.”

“Then what!”

Liam ran a hand wearily over his face. “They couldn’t save his left hand, and his face is badly scarred. What you heard just now was the navy doctor cauterizing the wound.”

Emma blanched at the thought. “I still don’t understand. Why can’t I see him?”

“When I told him we’d sent for you, he became extremely agitated. We had to hold him down as he begged me not to let you see him like this. He only calmed down when I promised that very thing.”

Emma wrapped her arms around herself as a chill skittered down her spine. All she longed to do was see him. She had spent the last few hours thinking he was dead, and now he was returned to her. How could she stay away?

“He loves you, Emma,” Liam said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder hesitantly.

“But he isn’t sure of my love.”

“Of course he is.”

Emma’s head snapped up to meet Liam’s gaze. “If that were true, he’d let me see him.”

Liam shook his head. “He’s still in shock, Emma, give him time.”

She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying, then gave a nod of consent. “Tell him that I love him?”

“Of course.”

“Tell him that I will always love him,” Emma clarified.

She was momentarily shocked when the stoic Captain Liam Jones grabbed her in a crushing hug. “Definitely,” he told her as he stepped back, “I have a feeling he’ll need to be reminded.”

********************************************************

“When can I see Killy?”

Emma set aside the book she was reading to Henry, and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “I’m not sure. He was very badly hurt, remember? We need to give him time to get better.”

Henry’s forehead scrunched up as he processed her words. “But I always feel better when I get hugs and kisses from you and grandma and grandpa. Maybe Killy needs some. I give good hugs.”

Emma grinned and pulled Henry close. “You give the best hugs, and I’m sure Killian will take as many as you can give when he’s ready to see us. But remember what I told you?”

“He won’t have two hands anymore,” Henry said in that simple, straightforward way of childhood.

“That’s right, and he has some scars on his face, too, so he’ll look different.”

“But I’m not scared of that, Mama, please can I see him tomorrow?”

Emma sighed and swallowed back her tears. She put on a brave smile for Henry, then kissed him on the forehead. “We’ll see.” What more could she say?

She tucked her son in, giving him one more kiss, before she slipped quietly out of his chamber. She was surprised that she was able to make it all the way to her own before the tears came. She’d just shut the door behind her when she slid to the floor, the sobs wracking her body.

Once every tear was spent, she rose and crossed the floor to her balcony. She stepped outside, letting the warm summer breeze caress her face. It had been four weeks since the battle that took Killian’s hand. She’d stayed away at Killian’s request, agreeing with Liam that he just needed time.

She was beginning to think time wasn’t what he needed, however. Emma had to prove just how much she loved her lieutenant.

Step into a new day

We can rise up from the dust and walk away

We can dance upon our heartache, yeah

So light a match, leave the past, burn the ships

And step into a new day

Killian sat in front of the only window in the quarters he shared with Liam. It was situated on the corner of the naval fort and was more like a small cabin built into the stone than the barracks that the rest of the men resided in . At the back of the two bedroom structure was a narrow stairway that led up to a look out turret. The entire domicile was perched upon the edge of the cliffs with a breathtaking view of the sea.

The sight outside his window today matched his mood : grey and turbulent. Misty rain sliced through the air, pushed along with the gusting wind. They were coming to remove his bandages today, and he would have to face his deformities daily from this moment onward. He was also well enough to stop hiding, Liam had bluntly pointed out. So the entire world would also see his hideousness.

Including his beautiful, perfect princess. She would try to be kind, he knew that, but he feared the disgust would be evident on her face nevertheless, and it would break him. Henry, being just a tiny lad, would most likely recoil in fear. He wouldn’t blame him. Yet the thought tore his heart in half nevertheless.

The door creaked open behind him, and Killian hung his head, pressed his unbandaged eye shut, and released a long sigh. “Let’s get this bloody over with,” he muttered.

Whichever orderly the doctor had sent to perform the unpleasant task said nothing, but Killian heard soft footfalls upon the stone floor. Of course they would send the lowest boy in the medical division for such a chore.

The orderly stopped right in front of Killian’s chair, and the hand that gently came to rest upon his shoulder was incredibly slight. Killian opened his eye, his gaze still trained on the floor. Wait - a skirt? Killian lifted his limited gaze and gaped to see Emma standing before him, a bowl and towels balanced on her hip. His heart pounded in his chest as shame crept through him, yet he couldn’t move. Emma set the supplies gently on the floor, then sank to her knees in front of him. Her lips curled up in a tender smile as tears tracked down her face.

“I’ve missed you,” she told him.

“Emma,” he breathed, his muscles trembling, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m exactly who should be here,” she corrected, a flash of that fire he knew so well in her eyes. She lifted her hand to cup his cheek, and he was too weak to resist pressing a kiss to her palm.

“I’ve missed you too,” he choked out.

Emma pulled over a stool, and organized her supplies. He was still in a bit of a daze that she was here. He had wanted to ease her into seeing his mutilated self, yet here she was, smiling up at him with a sparkle in her eyes. He hated that it would soon disappear.

She took his injured arm gently and rested it in her lap. Carefully, using the warm water in the bowl and the towels, she loosened the stiffened bandages before gently unwinding them.

“Doctor Whale told me exactly what to do,” Emma explained in a calm voice, “and there’s crushed yarrow in the water to cleanse and keep out infection.”

Whale had told him the exact same thing every time he had changed his bandages. Yet Emma’s voice was more soothing, her touch soft, her hair mesmerizing as she bent over him. At least the picture she made was distracting.

She peeled away the final bandage, and rather than looking at the stump where his hand used to be, he tortured himself by watching her face. Yet instead of tightening in disgust, her features softened and tears wet her eyes. She lifted his arm and pressed a kiss to the puckered flesh. His breath fled his body as she looked up into his eyes, love shining in her gaze as she pressed his stump to her breast.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Whatever for?” he rasped in awe.

“For surviving.”

She released his arm, gently resting it in his lap. Then she drew close, her fingers tracing his jaw, then sifting through his hair. His eyes fell shut as she pressed the wet cloth to the bandages on his face, then gently began to peel them away. In some ways, this reveal was worse. He wasn’t completely sure how bad the damage was to his face. Whale had kept saying only time would tell how bad the scarring would be. Only time would tell if his eye was saved. Killian had never realized how much he had always relied on his pretty face until faced with the reality that he might not have it at his disposal anymore. He was shallow in ways he hadn’t realized, and he began to wonder, had he merely charmed Emma? With that charm stripped away, would anything be left?

His breaths were ragged as the bandage fell away completely. His jaw clenched.

Emma pulled the final bandage away. Killian’s face was tight, his brow furrowed in what she knew was fear. She could feel him trembling. She cupped his face gently as she perused his face.

The deepest scar ran along his cheekbone, which wasn’t a surprise. Liam had told her his bone had shown beneath that cut. Another scar ran along his jawline from his ear to his mouth. The final one cut vertically from his hairline and down through his right eyebrow. Emma traced each scar gently with her fingers, a smile breaking her face. They were deep and puckered, and they would always remain, yet they didn’t detract from the handsome face of the man she loved. If anything, they added character and testament to his strength. She leaned closer and pressed light kisses to each scar, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. Killian’s breaths were ragged.

“Emma, please,” he begged, shame lacing his words.

“Killian,” she sassed back, her lips hovering over his, “open your damn eyes.”

He blinked as he opened them, the pupil of his right constricting at the sudden onslaught of light. Emma’s grin brightened. Whale had told her to look for that very thing to see if his eye was healthy. He hadn’t lost his eyesight, and the blue of his eyes were still bright. Yet even if he had been rendered blind, even if his eyes turned black and fell out, she would still love him.

“I can-” he squinted, “I can see!”

She grabbed his face then and kissed him with all the pent up relief, passion, and love of the last four weeks. His tears mingled with hers, and his right hand found its way into her hair. His left arm hovered uncertainly at her back. Some things would take time, and that was okay. As long as he knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

Killian leaned back so he could really look at her. He traced her chin with his fingertips. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Emma pressed her forehead to his. “So are you. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

So long to shame, walk through the sorrow

Out of the fire into tomorrow

[mama-qwerty]

WIP Wednesday

Hey look, I remembered this week!

So as I've been working on things, I've come realize that my two ocs seem to be my desire to either mother (Callie), or become the bestie (Scarlett) Knuckles needs. Self-indulgent stuff for the win, amiright?

But whatever. It's what interests me and there's a handful of you guys out there who seem to enjoy it too, soooo . . . win-win, I say.

This is the start of my kaiju wip, inspired by this video series on youtube. Let's imagine that Scarlett had been involved in that whole thing, and was besties with Knux during. This piece popped into my head after watching it (the thing gave me complete brainrot for a while) and follows Scarlett after everything ended.

~~~~~

The manx cat roamed the wasteland of her dead world.

Ears tuned to any sound around her, she kept her eyes straight ahead. On the horizon. Always on the horizon. There was nothing much to see to her sides, anyway. Withered trees. Brown grass. Bones of those not lucky enough to have learned how to survive now that the world had gone to hell.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Years ago, when she was a little girl, it had been green and beautiful. The skies had been blue, the water clean. There had been one tree outside her window she loved to climb. She would spend many a day in the upper branches, watching the clouds pass above her.

She could barely remember that now. It seemed a dream.

Dust flared around her boots as she walked. There was nothing green now. Barely anything grew from the poisoned soil that seemed to spread farther with each passing day. And what did manage to grow was twisted and jagged, once beautiful flowers and plants turned sharp and unnatural.

She moved to stay ahead of it. To find food. To find any life left on this rotting world.

And she moved to kill any monsters she came across.

The metal gauntlet that covered her right arm swung heavily against her, and she thumbed the various controls at her fingertips inside it. The end was a three fingered ‘hand’, tethered to the rest by a long, hidden chain. Various mechanisms inside could send it out with force, to grab or deliver a strong punch to her target.

It was the only piece of Tails’ mech she kept. Its mechanisms were simple enough for her to repair herself, and left her free to maneuver quickly. When she’d first hefted it, she was clumsy, her aim off. Now it was practically a part of her.

It had to be. She never would have survived this long without it.

The faded bag that held her few meager possessions bumped against her hip. She traveled light, carrying only what came in useful. A hunting knife, sharpened every night to a razor’s edge. A journal in which she wrote of every monster she’d slain, every destroyed and decaying town or village or city she’d come across. A water bottle with a built-in filter to remove at least most of the toxic elements in what little water was left. A few rolls of bandages, dirty from multiple uses, but better than nothing. A map, old and tattered, hopelessly outdated now but useful in a different way. A compass.

And one more thing. The only non-essential thing she’d kept from her life before it all collapsed.

It was wrapped in the leftover bits of a colorful scarf she’d had since childhood. The cloth had been cut to pieces over the years, used for first aid or to mark safe places. Hardly any was left, just a square a few inches along each side. The item inside wasn’t useful for anything, just a bit of wood about as large as her fist. But she couldn’t bear to leave it behind.

It was the only thing left of her best friend.

She pushed that thought away. Couldn’t afford the luxury of falling into memories, painful or otherwise. The sun sank lower in the sky, stretching the shadows longer along the ground.

The world became much more dangerous at night.

Her ears flicked constantly, twisting and following any sounds surrounding her. The world in general was quieter now, with no birdsong or animal calls. As twilight moved in, no fireflies flickered to life. No crickets chirruped to greet the coming evening. The only sound that fell on her ears was her own footsteps. A rhythmic dull thud in the dry dirt.

She kept walking.

The sun set completely, and the stars above blinked into life. Some nights, she would crane her head back, looking up at the stars and pretend everything was still alive. That the world was whole. That her friends were still with her.

That he was still with her.

For the millionth time she cursed the baron for bringing such a blight to the world. For destroying everything good.

No one was sure where he’d come from. This odd looking creature whose sole focus was to conquer. He’d sent his metal machines out first. Loud, smelly things that attacked her city and destroyed everything they touched.

She and her friends had all banded together to stop him. To push his machines back, and keep him from taking one of the last cities left outside his rule. It was hard, his machines seemed to become stronger with each attack, but they’d managed.

But then the baron had sent a new foe. One of flesh and blood. A kaiju, a demon. One hellbent on taking the city down. Those battles were harder. Much harder. It had taken more to keep it at bay.

Tails had done well to arm them. Building mechs to turn away each attack. But every night the kaiju returned, bigger and stronger than before. Each battle was harder won than the last.

And then Sonic had gone off to face the baron alone. To try and end this once and for all.

It hadn’t gone well.

A sound to her right and she stopped, eyes dilating in the dim light as her ears flicked to hone in on the disturbance. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she took slow breaths to try and calm it so she could hear properly.

She stood stock still for a long few moments, eyes and ears flicking around her. Her fingers caressed the controls in her gauntlet. They’d been worn smooth from use.

The sound again. A kind of scrape, followed by a huff. Behind her, to the left. She spun, and raised the gauntlet just in time to block the sharp teeth of a smallish kaiju from tearing off her face. She threw the thing away from her, assuming a defensive stance as it reared back and roared.

~~~~~

I have more, but I'm still tweaking as I work on it. But here's the first 1k or so words for ya.