#archie comics fanfiction

[soupfic]

And in darkness please tread lightly (see what you discover)

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandoms: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)

Relationship: Betty Cooper/Veronica Lodge

Characters: Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge

Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Past Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Past Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, First Kiss, Vaginal Fingering, Dildos, Pegging, Vaginal Sex, College, Future Fic, 1950s, Alternate Universe - 1950s

Summary: They emerged from the neighborhood and back onto campus. The Chi Omega sorority house was not much farther away then. Veronica looked both ways and began to cross the road when it was clear. It was nearly 11:30pm. “Girls sneak their boyfriends in all the time,” Veronica said, waving it away with her right hand. “Everyone just politely ignores any panting or moaning late at night.” Why did Betty’s stomach roll at that? “Okay.” Her voice was so small, it barely floated on the wind to Veronica’s back.

Read on Ao3

Betty’s eyes were starting to blur over the textbook she was reading in the library. The air conditioning was blasting cold, and the only sounds in the whole hall were the occasional rustling of paper and pencils scribbling notes. She tried shaking her head to wake herself up, but it just wasn’t working.

Time to call it a night , she thought, abruptly shutting the book and shoving it into her bag.

Before she took off, she paused a moment to smooth out her blue cardigan and tweed skirt. Now that she was standing up, her stomach rumbled, and she figured she could stop by the dining hall; tipping her watch carefully in the lowlight of the library, she noted that she had 23 minutes until it closed if she hurried.

Her brogues made soft sounds on the pavement as she half walked half skipped toward the dining hall closest to her dormitory.  The food options were slim pickings at this time of night, most dishes already cleared away and the staff trying to sweep up the hall. She felt bad about showing up so close to closing, but she realized she hadn’t eaten since lunch at noon and now it was nearly 10 pm.

Quickly, she grabbed a ham and cheese sandwich, paid, and scampered to her dorm.

The RA working the front desk stopped her.

“Betty!” The brunette girl said brightly, looking up from the book she was reading.

Betty was a little out of breath from her heavy bag and how much of a rush she was in to get home. Her face was ruddy and blonde flyaways were sticking to her cheeks.

“Hey, Rachel,” Betty smiled the smile living in Smalltown America had taught her to.

“Ronnie called and left a message for you.”

Betty nodded and sauntered over to the reception desk to retrieve the message.

“What’s it say?” Betty asked, holding a hand out for the scrap of paper Rachel was holding out for her.

“She wants you to meet her at the fountain, whatever that means, at 10.”

Obviously, there were many fountains around campus. But there was one fountain that was their fountain.

Betty glanced at her watch. It was ten til. She muttered a curse under her breath before thanking Rachel and sprinting up the linoleum front steps two at a time to get to her third floor room. The light was off inside so her roommate must have been asleep. She slowly turned her key in the lock to make the smallest amount of noise she possibly could so as not to wake Nicole.

Her roommate shifted and sighed as the door clicked softly behind her. All she really needed to do was drop her heavy school bag before turning right back around to meet Veronica. Well , she thought, I can afford to ditch my stockings for now .

After cautiously setting her bag down by the end of her bed, she took one last glance at her roommate to make sure the girl was asleep before turning her back to the other girl’s bed and peeling herself out of the stockings, ones she’d worn to church many times. She deposited the damp nylons on the ground next to her bed for later, and then spun around the room slowly to see if there was anything she was forgetting before meeting Ronnie. They’d known each other forever, but she still didn’t want to be late—she hated disappointing her.

Standing barefoot in the dark, her mind was blank, so she decided to just grab a coat so she could slip her room key inside while she was out, and put on more comfortable moccasins instead of the stiff brogues.

It didn’t matter how fast Betty ran; she was going to be a bit late. She imagined Veronica leaving after a few minutes of Betty running late and some unnamed feeling clawed at her gut.

The fountain was one of the centerpieces of campus—it had lights inside that were on constantly, making it visible at any hour of day, and there was a tradition of students making their friends jump in the fountain on their 21st birthday. It was mid-September so the semester had just started, but the chill was already starting to set in. While there were some students traveling to and fro’, no one was drunkenly bathing in the fountain that night.

Veronica, blessedly, still sat on the concrete ledge, haloed in the blue light from the water, and cloaked in a smart black peacoat. She looks beautiful, Betty thought involuntarily when she caught sight of the dark haired girl.

At the sight of Betty, Veronica perked up and waved.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Veronica admitted.

“I lost track of time studying in the library and didn’t get back to the dorm until ten til,” Betty said by way of explanation. “I rushed over as fast as I could.”

Betty saw Veronica’s eyes take in Betty’s visage, her sweat-sticky face and loose blonde hair, her cream colored overcoat. It was a tad too heavy for the weather, but there were occasional cold breezes that cut through the night and made Betty glad she was wearing it.

Veronica pouted just a little, but didn’t say anything to indicate displeasure. “I’m just glad you made it.” She held her arms out for a hug.

Betty gladly leaned down into her friend's arms, the scent of Veronica’s lingeringly sweet perfume when her face nestled into the crook of the other girl’s neck. She didn’t know what the scent was called, but it was Veronica’s go-to so Betty’s stomach started to curl every time she smelled it on her now.

The hug lingered, perhaps just a few beats too long. Betty pulled away, hoping the dark of the night around them would obscure her pink cheeks.

They’d been doing this song and dance for a few weeks now, since the semester started. They couldn’t see each other every day because Ronnie was trying to pledge a sorority and their classes didn’t line up. Betty felt her best friend’s absence keenly, like a missing limb. She missed her other friends, sure, but there was something so tantalizing about being in the same city, on the same campus, just a few blocks away and being barred from each other’s presence through sheer circumstance. And the more nights she lay awake in her dorm room with her roommates soft snores filtering through the air and Archie Andrews not in the house directly across from her, it started to occur to her that some of those friendships might have had more to do with proximity than genuine affection.

“Shall we go for a walk, then?” Veronica said, her bright red lips smacking together.

Betty nodded and Veronica stood from the fountain, looping an arm through Betty’s and tugging her in the direction of her dorm. Betty’s stomach clenched.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere interesting I found the other day,” Veronica said with an appealingly mischievous quirk to her mouth. “It should be a short walk.”

Betty was grateful she’d taken off her nylons and picked different shoes. A chill wind picked up as they descended the steep hill. She shivered and huddled in closer to Veronica, expecting the other girl to take a right onto sorority row, but instead she made a left, head swiveling in both directions, dark hair hitting her face, before crossing the street without the walk signal. Betty scurried after her, making sure to check both ways too.

They quickly descended into the neighboring residential area with great, towering homes with pointy roofs and too many windows scattered across the front in even rows. Their facades were all whites and yellows with horizontal wood slats and brick with tight rectangular chimneys. She was put in the mind of the Nathaniel Hawthorne novel she had to read in high school and the cursed Pyncheon family shut up inside. Any one of these dark houses could contain their own family curse. She thought of Hepzibah and superimposed her mother’s face on the character. Shaking her head to drop the thought, she nearly lost Veronica when the other girl darted in between two houses.

“Veronica!” Betty called lowly, conscious of the families likely sleeping in the houses around them.

In the half dark, she saw Veronica ahead of her.

“Are we in someone’s yard?”

“No!” Veronica called back before stopping.

When Betty caught up, she saw a small clearing with bright white stones sticking up like jagged teeth from the dark earth below.

“Cemetery?” Betty questioned.

“A colonial cemetery. There’s a sign by the street. I saw it when I was out here walking after dinner a few evenings ago while you were in class.”

“That’s so cool,” Betty marveled, moving deeper among the stones.

There was enough ambient light from the nearby street lamps that she could make out some names and symbols. Most of the names seemed to be from the same family.

“I did some research.”

“You did?”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, Cooper!”

Betty chuckled sheepishly.

“Anyway, turns out New England is littered with these small, colonial family plots. I love the little symbols on the stones. Like this one,” she gestured to one of the nearby markers.

There was a skull with wings on either side carved into the top of the stone above the name, Elizabeth Marsh who died in 1802 at age 31. So young , Betty thought with a melancholy gripping her heart.

She bent down next to another stone with a lamb carved into it, angling so the streetlight would catch it enough to read the name on it, Charlotte Marsh, age 3 hours. The picture painted was clear.

As she went to stand up, she felt something against her back. She spun and jumped away, putting as much distance as possible between her and the ghost besieging her.

Veronica started laughing at how much she had scared Betty. Betty’s hand came up to her chest, feeling her heart fluttering beneath her rib cage.

“Ronnie!”

“I’m sorry!” Veronica snickered, a hand coming up to sheepishly hide her mouth. “I was just trying to be funny.”

“I guess the graveyard spooked me a little,” Betty admitted.

“Clearly.” Veronica’s laughter finally died down. “You want to head back toward campus?”

“Yes, please.”

Veronica looped her arm through Betty’s again, pulling them toward the street.

After a few minutes of silence, Veronica spoke, her voice soft and tender.

“Will you skip class tomorrow?”

Betty’s stomach clenched. “All day?”

“It’s just a couple classes, Bett. I just really want to spend some time with you.”

Their first semester of college had just started—and Betty never even considered skipping a class. In high school, she had near-perfect attendance, only missing a few days the one time she had mono.

“But my journalism class…” Betty started to protest, but she trailed off when Veronica stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk.

The other girl’s face took on a wounded, little lamb quality. Were those tears brimming in her eyes?

“Okay! Fine, fine,” Betty conceded, laughing.

“Yay!” Veronica started them walking again. “Well, then you don’t need to go to bed early. Come to the house?”

Betty hadn’t been inside the sorority house yet.

“Am I allowed?”

“Not technically, but I don’t think anyone will say anything even if they see you.”

“Are you sure?”

They emerged from the neighborhood and back onto campus. The Chi Omega sorority house was not much farther away then. Veronica looked both ways and began to cross the road when it was clear. It was nearly 11:30pm.

“Girls sneak their boyfriends in all the time,” Veronica said, waving it away with her right hand. “Everyone just politely ignores any panting or moaning late at night.”

Why did Betty’s stomach roll at that? “Okay.” Her voice was so small, it barely floated on the wind to Veronica’s back.

“Let’s go around back,” Veronica said when they approached the front of the house. 

The yellow street light illuminated the painted sigil of their group on the sidewalk in front; there was distinctly a skull and owl at the top. How odd , Betty thought. The back was not well lit and Betty huddled in closer to Veronica in the chill night.

“My room’s just upstairs.”

“What about your roommate?”

Before swinging the door open, Veronica turned with a smirk. “I pulled some strings. I’m rooming alone. And I’m pretty much guaranteed a spot.”

Betty didn’t have to be told that money talks. She nodded and followed Veronica into the dark, warmth of the house. It was silent inside. The girls had mostly gone to bed, it seemed. Veronica held up her index finger to her red lips in a shushing motion and moved up the back wooden stairs. They creaked lowly under their feet, but it wasn’t loud enough to rouse suspicion.

Upon entering Veronica’s room, she flicked on a bedside lamp that bathed the furniture in a warm, orange glow. There was a table and chair by the window, which Betty started moving toward.

“Don’t even think about it,” Veronica said, stripping off her coat and dumping it on the floor next to the bed. “Come lay down next to me.”

Betty stood there, frozen, watching in abject delight and horror as Veronica unselfconsciously began to unbuckle the belt around her waist and unbutton the buttons on the front of her blue gingham dress.

“I’m going to slip into my nightgown. You can take off whatever you want and come lay down.”

Betty couldn’t move, her body feeling hot and itchy all over. She wanted to take off her coat, her slightly scratchy skirt, her skin.

Veronica was in a yellow silk nightgown before Betty even realized.

“What are you doing, silly? Come on .”

What is happening here? Betty thought, finally, stiffly moving to take her coat off and drop it on the chair.

Veronica flopped unceremoniously onto her plush duvet and stretched out, her body contorted suggestively, one leg over the other. The word “whore” started to blare in Betty’s mind like an air raid siren before she could shut down the religious shame. She shook the thought away as her best friend’s eyes traveled over her.

“Get over here!” Veronica called. She hadn’t taken her makeup off or her hair down.

“Your lipstick…” Betty trailed off, her voice barely audible.

“Oh! I completely forgot! I’ll be right back.” Veronica hopped up from the bed. “You better be getting comfy by the time I get back.” And then she disappeared out the door, her bare feet making no sound in the hall.

In the comfort of the empty room, Betty felt bold enough to shimmy out of her skirt, leaving her knickers in place, but unclasping her brassiere underneath her blouse and sliding it off. Quickly, she moved to get under the duvet, hiding her body from view, and laying on her back. She was put to mind of the scenarios she used to run in her head of going steady with Archie and her first time…shyly disrobing in front of him, joining him in the bed under the covers, soft and warm skin touching soft and warm skin.

But this was Veronica, not Archie, not a boy. It wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be. Regardless, Betty knew there was something like a small lick of flame, vulnerable at her center at the mere thought of Veronica. She could choose to feed it and nurture it, or smother it in its infancy before it could take root. Veronica couldn’t accept it, of course, and that’s why Betty had to quash that tiny fire burning at her core.

When Veronica returned, she didn’t say anything, just slipped under the covers next to Betty, snuggling in close but staying on her back too. The smooth skin of her arm was warm against Betty’s arm, and Betty started to sweat beneath the heavy duvet, but she didn’t dare complain or move away for fear of shattering the delicate crystal of the moment. Veronica’s hand was against hers, and she could feel the other girl’s pulse with their proximity—it felt like it was jumping. No, that’s not right . Veronica’s breath wasn’t heavy, was it? No, no .

“Betty,” Veronica whispered, syrup in Betty’s ears. “Elizabeth.”

At the use of her full name and not her usual nickname, Betty’s head snapped over to look at Veronica, who’s dark eyes were hooded and searching in the low light. Betty didn’t dare utter a sound; her stomach was rolling and she was sweating, her face was dewy red even in the dark.

“Betty, I have something I want to tell you.”

“Okay,” Betty croaked out, mortified by her own breaking voice.

There was a weighty pause and Veronica rolled over onto her side, facing Betty directly, and placed her hot hand directly over Betty’s lower belly. Betty couldn’t meet her eyes anymore when her muscles jumped at the delicious contact. Veronica didn’t remove her hand.

“Betty Cooper, I think I’m in love with you.”

Breathe , Betty had to tell herself. Say something, idiot!

“It’s…it’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” Veronica began to pull her hand away, disappointment shuttering her face.

Before Betty could think, she snatched Veronica’s hand at the wrist, preventing her from moving. The shock was evident by the delicate o-shape of her mouth.

“Ronnie,” Betty said, voice hitching, “I…can’t stop thinking about you. You live inside my chest.”

Veronica let out the smallest laugh at that. “Does that mean…?”

“It means I think I love you, too.” Betty rolled over so they were face to face, their breaths mingling in the small cavern between their bodies, Veronica’s hand on her hip bone now.

“What about Archie?” Veronica asked, face scrunched in concern.

“It’s complicated,” Betty admitted, “but I think, more than anything, it had to do with proximity…”

“Didn’t help that he’s pretty,” Veronica trailed off wistfully, as the only one of the two of them who had actually dated him for any period of time.

“That did help,” Betty admitted.

“What about Jughead? I know you two broke up, but…”

“It was over for good. And there really are no hard feelings. Jughead said he loved me…but not like that? And he wasn’t sure he could love anyone like that.”

“You two never…?” The implication was clear— had sex .

“Never,” Betty shook her head vigorously, “Jug never wanted to. I don’t think he wants to at all, ever, with anyone.”

“Oh.” Veronica seemed shocked. “Jughead’s a teenage boy and he doesn’t want to have sex at all?”

Betty felt a distinct embarrassment from the word being said so cavalierly. She tried her best to shrug it off. “I don’t know.”

“Did you want to?”

“Kind of. I think I wanted to because I knew I was supposed to want to?”

“I understand that.”

“Did you and Archie?” Betty asked, incredulous that the words have been allowed to escape past her lips.

Is it something she’d thought about before? Absolutely. Did it burn her up inside at night when she thought about it with too much clarity? She would never admit it.

“Do you want an honest answer to that?” Veronica’s confidence was coming out as she earnestly searched Betty’s face.

Betty nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Yes, we did.”

Betty couldn’t help it—she imagined the red headed boy’s strong arms holding himself up over Veronica’s body, Veronica’s breasts exposed to the air with her nipples stiff in the coolness and bouncing softly as Archie thrust down into her, Archie’s glutes straining with the effort, Veronica’s mouth open and head thrown back in flushed pleasure. There was a wet heat growing between her legs as she thought about it.

“Where did you just go?” Veronica asked, bringing her face close to Betty’s now.

“I, um,” Betty stammered, squirming under the scrutiny.

“Oh, you sick puppy! You were thinking about it, weren’t you? Your little active writer’s imagination.”

Betty flopped over onto her back, arm coming up to cover her face in utter mortification.

“It’s okay, Betts. I’ve thought about you, too.”

“You have?” Betty threw her arm away from her face sharply to peek over at the other girl who had propped her head up on one bent arm.

“Definitely,” she nodded with the slyest little grin on her face. “And do you want to know something else?”

Betty swallowed but nodded.

“I touched myself while doing it, too.”

Betty’s eyes widened. “You did?”

Veronica nodded and bit her lip, her face rouging in the dim light of the bedroom. “Yeah.” Her voice was thick. With desire? Embarrassment? Want?

“Do you…want to, now?” What is she saying? Betty couldn’t believe her audacity. It was easier when she was staring up at the spackled white ceiling above the plush bed instead of at Veronica’s face.

“I very much want to.” Veronica admitted. “Is that okay?”

Betty’s throat felt taut as she swallowed thickly, voicebox sliding under her skin. “I want you to, too.”

“Can we start with a kiss?” Veronica asked, leaning down into Betty’s space.

Betty nodded, unable to speak now.

Veronica closed the space between them, leaning down and gently placing her lips to Betty’s. It was so tentative, Betty was sure that Veronica was giving her time to back out. But she wasn’t going to. She was getting the thing she’d been thinking about for so long, she wasn’t about to back out. And just to prove it to herself, she leaned her head up just a little to press her mouth just a little bit harder into Veronica’s.

This broke the floodgates. Veronica rolled her body all the way on top of Betty’s, their breasts pressed together and mouths hungry. Veronica was the one who started to open her mouth against Betty’s, introducing her tongue into Betty’s. Betty knew about French kissing, but she’d never actually done it—it had sounded a little gross to her, but when it was Veronica’s tongue down her throat it all made sense. She wanted to share spit with this girl, to merge their bodies, to fuse their souls.

The kissing riled Betty up so much she found herself subconsciously grinding herself against Veronica’s leg that had wormed between hers.

“Ronnie,” she gasped out.

“Desperate for it?” Veronica asked, pulling back with her lips puffy and slick with spit, a self-satisfied smile stretching them across her face.

“Yes,” Betty gasped out, feeling like a feral animal, bucking her hips up desperately.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” she panted, “please, please .”

Veronica moved away from the position she was in on top of Betty, lowering herself in the covers and hovering on her knees over Betty’s midsection. The other girl didn’t bother to shimmy off Betty’s panties, just moved them over to the side enough to grant access to the downy, strawberry hair between Betty’s legs.

“Pretty,” Veronica said, hunger in her eyes.

Betty would be embarrassed if she wasn’t so achingly desperate at that exact moment. “Please,” was all she could manage.

Veronica was a merciful god. She crouched down and placed her first two fingers of her right hand directly on the pleasure spot, temporarily blinding Betty with desire.

“Oh my god!” Betty shouted.

Veronica slapped a hand over Betty’s mouth, looking smug, and getting to a vigorous pace, rubbing at that spot. Betty had never really allowed herself to explore this part of herself and hadn’t known how good it could actually feel.

“You’ll have to keep it down, my dear. If I have to do it for you, then feel free to keep making noises.”

Betty whimpered, the pressure building in her lower belly in a way she had never experienced before. Is this why people like sex so much? Is this what it can feel like? No wonder people do stupid things to achieve it.

Just as Betty felt like she was about to reach some kind of fever pitch, Veronica pulled her hands away. Betty’s body suddenly deflated, squishing down into the mattress. She hadn’t realized how much tension she was carrying in all her muscles now that she was relaxed, sweat pooling under her knees and her clavicle. 

“Why?” Betty’s voice croaked.

“I…have something I want to try, if that’s okay with you.”

“If it feels as good as that, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Whatever I want?” Veronica confirmed, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes, just…don’t stop, please.”

“As you command, your highness.”

She threw off the duvet from both of them, exposing Betty’s damp skin to the cool air around them. Her nipples instantly went achingly stiff as she watched Veronica’s back muscles contract prettily while she rummaged through one of the drawers in her armoir. When she finally turned back toward the bed, she was holding a very complicated pile of beautiful, dark leather straps and a…well, a phallus.

“Wh-what is that?” Betty felt a bit alarmed.

Veronica blushed as she perched herself on the edge of the bed. “It’s what’s called a dildo. I just attach it to these straps and I can use it on you…”

“Like a man?”

Veronica nodded, swallowing.

“Where did you even get that thing?” Betty couldn’t even believe it existed.

Veronica fixed her with a look that clearly meant “You know I have my methods.”

Betty nodded in understanding. “Right.”

“Would that be okay?”

Betty thought about it for a minute. “Is it going to hurt? I’ve never…”

Veronica bit her lip, looking thoughtful. She shook her head. “I’ve tried it on myself. It doesn’t hurt. It’s not too big.”

The mere thought of Veronica with that thing hanging heavily between her legs, the smooth leather straps digging into the soft skin of her thighs and belly, was setting Betty on fire.

“I want it,” Betty admitted.

Veronica nodded and made quick work of placing the dildo into the harness. Betty watched, rapt, as Veronica’s deft hands removed her silk nightgown, revealing her soft breasts and panties, and pulled the straps up onto her body.

The sight was better than anything she could have imagined, like in the dreams she had about Archie and his erect cock before her. Veronica’s body was as elegant as Betty thought it would be—soft in all the right places and firm in others—based on the places she’d casually touched the other girl.

“Veronica, you’re perfect,” Betty breathed out, the ache between her legs reaching to a fever pitch. “I need you.”

And just like that, Veronica’s body was pressing hers back into the mattress, sliding down her to pull her panties off, and line the rubber phallus up with Betty’s center.

“Just relax, pet,” Veronica murmured into her ear, sending a shiver down her body and pooling down in her stomach. “I promise I will be gentle with you.”

“I trust you,” Betty confirmed, spreading her legs even wider.

Veronica’s control was commendable, pushing into Betty’s body ever-so slowly. Every few seconds, she stopped to check if Betty was okay. Betty was so wet that it slipped in easily, easier than she would have expected. It was an odd sensation, feeling something in a space that had never been filled before, but it felt right, like the dildo that Veronica had acquired was made to be the perfect fit for her.

“Ronnie,” she whined, “it’s too slow. I need you all the way in.”

Veronica didn’t need to be told twice. She slammed her hips down into Betty’s, and Betty saw stars.

Betty didn’t usually swear, but she couldn’t help the cry of “fuck!” that came out of her mouth involuntarily.

“We’ve got to be quiet,” Veronica was so smug as she slapped a hand over Betty’s mouth and kept pumping her hips.

Betty felt her eyes roll back into her head, the dildo continuously grinding at some perfect spot deep inside her that was overwhelming all of her senses. She shifted her hips to meet Veronica’s strokes at just the right angle so that they hit every time, building up this bubble in her hips that felt like it was fit to burst. It was even better than Veronica’s earlier ministrations against her.

The bubble burst and Betty was left a thrumming, shaking, blissful, sweaty mess. She watched as Veronica reached a carefully manicured hand down into her panties, behind the leather straps, and vigorously start to rub circles, her mouth open in a silent ‘o’ that was so pretty Betty wanted to kiss it, but she couldn’t move. There was a strange energy buzzing through her but her limbs were too heavy and her muscles were spasming.

Veronica’s bubble must have burst too, because she removed her hand and collapsed down onto the soft bed next to Betty in a sweaty heap. The rubber phallus was still standing upright, covered in a shiny, milky slickness that Betty didn’t recognize but distantly knew was from her. It corresponded with the extra wetness pooling in between her legs.

“Did you orgasm?” Betty asked Veronica through pants.

Veronica, who’s dark eyes were closed as her chest heaved, just nodded.

“So did I.”

Veronica snickered. “I know, darling.”

Betty’s stomach clenched at the pet name.

“What time is it?” Betty asked, glancing around the room for any visible clock, finding none.

Veronica rolled over to pull a dainty faced silver watch from the bedside table drawer, tipping it to see the hands in the low light. “Just after 1:30 am.”

“It’s so late!” Betty started to panic and get out of the bed.

Veronica laughed again, grabbing Betty’s arm.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not going to class tomorrow.” She pulled Betty onto her chest. “Let’s get some rest and we’ll go get some breakfast in the morning.”

[forkanna]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Whoops! Nano got me out of the habit of posting regularly, and then... I just... stayed out of that habit, lol. But happy Boxing Day, everyone!

CHAPTER FIVE

"Wait!  Pray wait for me, Prince Harrington!"

Maiden Clarissa stumbled to a stop, bracing her hands against her knees as her breathing came in ragged gasps. All was lost. Her fair prince had raced off into the woods, forsaking her steadfast devotion in favour of the wicked sorceress's wiles. She knew it was not his fault; he was pure of heart and valiant, and had slain many a beast in Clarissa's name. Now, however, she feared he might be lost forever. 

And so went her heart. Without Harrington's strong, broad shoulders upon which to perch her hands, she felt as if there were no purpose to her life - no goal for which to strive. There was only one recourse for her to undertake, in the hopes it would save her from the fate of a lonely life.

Queen Ophelia's chambers were cold and forbidding as she crept her way inside. The queen's heart was just as cold, as her sleek black hair and deep violet dress also gave such an impression. Her features changed not at all as Clarissa approached and knelt before her. 

"What need you, wench?"

"I… I am but a humble wench," she agreed, trying in vain to keep her tone steady. "But it is you who I think will help me. I… I am aware of your designs on Prince Harrington of the Sapphire Kingdom."

"As are all. Including you, Clarissa Dungsmith. Yes, I know of you," she shot nastily at the girl, folding her arms artfully over her bodice. "Why do you darken my doorstep, peasant? To gloat? I am well aware you have turned the prince's head, and drawn him away from my wooing."

"I have done nothing," she lied - though it was scarcely a lie, when all was said and done. "Only returned his affections when they were given; I did not seek to lure him from your side. this I swear."

"Hmm. I believe you."

"Do you? Verily?"

"Verily so. Walk with me." The queen rose and walked with her regal gait down the few steps from her dais, her sparkling violet heels matching her dress exactly. "It has also reached my ears that your hold on Harrington has… loosened. Another has usurped you."

"The wicked sorceress, Thornitia," Clarissa breathed.

"That very one, yes. However, do you honestly expect for me to capture him back, only to thrust him into your arms?"

Her head dipped in deference to the queen's station. "If it please you, no. I had hoped we would bring him back from her clutches, and give his heart back to him. What he does with it henceforth will be his choice."

"Ahhh, but that doesn't serve my purposes, wench. For I know he will only run to you. Despite my young age, I am a queen, and a political rival - and I wield true power within this realm. You, fair and flaxen-haired, and with a heart as pure as his… and no station of your own with which to challenge his… he will choose you over me each and every time."

"That is not the reason," Clarissa breathed, her brow furrowing as her heart sank. "I… the prince and I-"

"If it were 'true love', the sorceress could not sway him," Ophelia rebutted before the pauper could even finish. "He is a knave and a fool. And I am too cold and too challenging for him to ever choose me over you, despite my station and riches."

"Milady, if it please you, I don't see you that way at all."

"Don't you?" she snorted bitterly.

"I do not. You are strong in your convictions, and fairer than I, and passionate. And when you are unyielding, it is like a steel blade - tempered by the heat and violence of a difficult rule. I may wish to court Harrintgon because I believe it to be our destiny, but not because you are unworthy in any way - not at all!"

Ophelia came to a stop in front of a large stained glass window, turning to gaze evenly at her unwelcome guest. Clarissa tried to listen to her next words, instead of the thundering of her heart in her throat; she felt fearful the queen might turn on her at any moment, and throw her bodily into the dungeons. Or worse.

"Your flattery is not necessary. I will retrieve Harrington because it is what is right and proper, and because the sorceress must be stopped - and for no other reason."

"And that is why it is not flattery," Clarissa insisted, imbuing her voice with all the strength she had left. "Because you are as good as I have said - far better than I. All I command is naivety and… and empty dreams of a future that can never be. Harrington will choose you when he realizes his family would never accept an uneducated waif."

"Waif, perhaps. But not uneducated; you speak as a learned woman speaks, Rissa."

"I… oh." She couldn't help feeling embarrassed at the sudden usage of such a nickname, and the familiarity the queen granted her that she did not deserve. "I've… listened to the sermons in the square, and read what books I can find cast off. Nothing such as you must have."

"Perhaps more laudable, because you had to fight for each advantage that much harder."

"Your Majesty… I hadn't realized you thought so highly of me. Especially when you greeted me as 'wench' today." 

"You are a tavern wench, are you not?" the regal woman shot at her. "But I have been observing your advances toward the prince, ready to assail your character for underhandedness… and observed no such transgressions. Your behaviour is spotless - and that much more frustrating for me to watch for it. Curse your pure heart, Clarissa."

Before Clarissa had time to draw in another breath, the dark queen's hand was raising to rest upon the side of her neck - and this was no threatening grasp. Her touch was so tender that her heart stopped beating in her chest as she gazed up into Ophelia's eyes, mystified by the interest she noticed there. Did the queen want to learn more about her, to better understand her enemy?

"Your Majesty…"

"Call me 'Ophelia', when we are alone. If it please you." The raven-haired monarch smirked as she caressed her thumb along Clarissa's lips, sending shivers along her spine. "Does it please?"

"It does," she found herself confessing quietly as their faces drew closer, and closer still… until the space between them was no more.

She had not expected Ophelia's lips to be so warm and soft as they were. Then again, she had ever expected to partake of them - had never anticipated this turn of events. She tilted her head to better welcome the kiss, and found the queen was only too ready to oblige, kneading their mouths together as their hands began to explore each other's backs, their necks. 

Clarissa's heart raced as she felt one of Ophelia's hands begin to drift yet lower, past her waistline and down to her-

  ~ o ~

  CLUNK.

"AH!" Betty yelped as she pulled her hands back from her laptop keyboard, glancing around wildly. At last, she registered the buzzing from the floor. Rolling her chair back, she stooped down and reached for her phone that had vibrated its way right across her desk until it took a swan dive. It took her four tries to hastily answer, but at least she managed before it went to voicemail. 

"Hello?!"

"Girl, what is going on? Normally I don't have to call you three times before you pick up!"

Sighing with relief, Betty sagged lower in her chair as the video finally resolved, showing a slightly-pixelated feed of her friend. "Hey, Nancy."

"'Hey' yourself. What's going on? Not a date with that Freckles again."

"No, no way. I don't even think he knows I'm alive."

Nancy let out a low whistle as trees went past her head. She was out, apparently. "Mmm, yeah… that's kinda why I've been trying you so much. I was worried after he passed you over for that new girl again at practice. You barely stopped to talk to Midge; she said you were really upset, but wouldn't tell her why."

"Because… because Archie, obviously," she lied, and immediately felt guilty. More than anything, she just didn't want to get into it. "And Cheryl." There; now she had technically told the truth.

"Aww, Bets, come on. That chucklehead ain't worth it - how many times have we talked about this? He's like a fox let loose in a hen house; can't pick which one to pounce on, so he's gonna keep getting distracted. You can do better."

"I know, I know," she sighed as she turned and stood, moving toward her bed. "But I can't help who I like." That had a twofold meaning now that she really wished it didn't.

Nancy suddenly grinned. "Hey, was that the novel? Come on, how long do I have to beg to read some?"

"Wha-" Belatedly, she realized her camera must have caught her laptop screen for a second. "Uhhh, never!" When Nancy glared, she amended, "Okay, okay, but let me get the full rough draft finished, at least. I can't let anybody see anything until it's at least kinda done."

"Hmm… alright, that's fair. I wouldn't want anyone seeing one of my paintings when it's just a few blobs of paint, or a pencil outline." 

"Yeah, you get it." She grunted as she flopped down on the bed on her belly, seeing her own purple socks appearing over her head in the self-camera as she crossed her ankles. "So, where are you going, anyway?"

"What? Oh… yeah, I'm going to see the Pussycats again. But there's this new band opening for them - local girls. I'm pretty hype to check them out more than anything."

"Uh huh. You sure you don't just have a crush on Mallory? Or was it Valerie?"

"It's Melody," Nancy said with a wry smirk. "And I don't have a crush on her or Valerie, okay? They're both cool but I'm not playing for the softball team."

"Hey," Betty pouted. 

"Right! Sorry, I forgot you legit play softball." Nancy had clearly winced when she remembered. "Anyway, you can come out if you don't have more writing to do, or homework or whatever."

"Well, I'm…" Betty barely glanced over at her screen, where her hands had manifested minds of their own and written some very damning evidence that Tomoko wasn't entirely off the mark. "Sure, that actually sounds pretty fun. Maybe I need a break, anyway."

"YAAAS! Meet me at the Bijou, then - I'm gonna go see if I can meet the Pussycats. Wouldn't that be crazy?"

"They're just from Midvale, it's not that crazy!"

"Whatever! Text me when you're here, Bets!"

Which left Betty with no recourse but to sigh, roll her eyes, and head for her closet to find something that wouldn't look completely stupid at a concert. At least it was better than obsessing over what had just emerged from her fingertips.

  ~ o ~

  Not that poor Betty succeeded. With her outfit, yes; she found some slightly ripped jeans and one of her dad's old Thompson Twins shirts that she could tie up, and finished it off with blue-accented Chucks. But as for not obsessing… 

"Why did it take that turn? There wasn’t supposed to be some kind of sapphic twist - Ophelia was totally supposed to throw Clarissa in the dungeon!" she hissed at herself as she circled the venue, looking for parking. The Bijou was an old theater that had fallen into disrepair once the big megaplex was built onto the Riverdale Mall, but it had been rescued and turned into a concert and event space by Veronica's mother, Hermione. At first, she had been a little resistant to bands playing there, but wanting to provide a place for budding artists to cut their teeth outweighed her hesitance; Riverdale teens were generally well-behaved enough.

The problem was, kids from Southside and from neighboring Centerville weren't quite as respectful. But the bouncers kept things in line well enough.

"You're not gay," she hissed as she finally parallel parked between two other cars about a block over. "Betty Cooper, you are overreacting to Cheryl's little mindgame, and Tomoko's nonsense; you're just fine! You're a normal, healthy, heterosexual teenage girl - you're not into girls!"

But as she turned off the engine, she frowned and added, "Well, not that there would be anything wrong with that. Girls can like girls, boys can like boys. And sometimes, it seems like it would be a lot easier to like a girl; boys can be so dense sometimes. Plus, they're softer, and smell nicer, and…"

Suddenly hearing herself, she reached up to slap herself on the cheeks a few times before she shook her head out. "Enough. Showtime."

There were a few kids hanging around outside the Bijou, and a few were even smoking. Most of them were out-of-towners, but she did spot Chuck, Nancy's boyfriend, hitting a vape. Slightly better, but not much in her book.

"Hey, Betty," he said as she came close - and blew the vapor over his shoulder before stowing it. Polite enough to not make her breathe it in, at least. "What's up? Didn't expect you to come out."

"Well, your girl badgered me into it," she said with a good-natured smile, adjusting her phone and keys. The phone was sticking up and out, because girl-pockets, but she had everything as in order as she could. 

"She's good at that," he laughed. "She's already inside, but told me to keep an eye out for you, just in case. Opening act is still setting up."

"Cool. Um… so…"

"The vape," he sighed, and Betty flushed with embarrassment. But Chuck just shook his head. "No, it's okay. It's just CBD."

"CBD? Isn't that, like… pot?" Chuck laughed, and she flushed even darker. "Well, I've never done anything like that…"

"It's more like… you know how grape juice has the same antioxidants as red wine, but can't get you drunk?" She nodded, and he pulled the vape back out to show her. "That's what CBD is like; helps relax you and has some other health benefits, but doesn't get you high. You can try it, if you want."

"N-no thanks. But I trust you!" she quickly reassured him. "I'm just, um, I just haven't tried it and I would want to talk to my doctor first."

Chuck's eyebrows rose, but all he said was, "All good, Cooper. I promise, I wouldn't be pushy about it. Anyway, we can head in if you're ready; ticket's ten. I can cover you if-"

"I got it," she said with a small smile as she popped off her phone case to get at the little card holder inside. "But I really appreciate that, Clayton."

The woman at the ticket window made things quick and easy, and the two of them joined the throng. Not many people were in the lobby - but they were all around the merch table, thinking about Josie shirts or hoodies, or the old-school cassettes they sold. They made their way past into the auditorium, where a couple hundred bodies were packed in, all talking and bouncing excitedly.

"Where's Nancy?" she asked him over the rising voices. 

"Working," he said, pointing at where they could just barely see her afro puffs over the heads of a few other students. Someone moved and Betty could just barely see her profile behind her professional camera as she took a shot of the empty stage, framing the kick drum with the Pussycats logo in the center. 

"Oh yeah, I guess she would be… the Blue And Gold could use more than just a write-up." She frowned. "I should probably be taking notes for an article; I'm slipping. Got a lot on my-"

"JERK!" 

Chuck grunted when he felt Archie and Moose dogpiling on his back, then laughed as he pushed back. "You're the jerks! I'm minding my own business!"

"And that's why you're the jerk!" Archie laughed, clearly not at all serious. "We've been looking for you - did Jug and Reg get here yet?"

"I thought Jug would be with you," Betty said with a smile, subconsciously arching her back to make her modest chest jut forward more. Anything to catch his attention.

"Hey, Betty," he said amiably enough. "Nah, he said something about finishing an episode of Doctor Who. Should be here after a while. Who, uh… who are you here with?"

"Oh, nobody," she admitted, even before she could think to come up with an excuse. 

"Nice. I mean, uh… not nice that you're not here with-"

Before Archie could even finish his sentence, Reggie sailed in and got Archie in a headlock, both boys laughing. Maybe it was best if she switched teams - at least she could stop wasting time trying to figure out why men do things like that.

And they were gone a moment later, off to concessions. Betty tried to push through to Nancy's side, but the opening act took the stage just then - and all the kids pushed in closer, making it harder for her to move through the throng. So instead, she sighed and focused on the show.

"Helloooo, Riverdale!" cried out a blonde girl with very short pigtails and a guitar. She looked like a reject from a 90s grunge documentary, with a green flannel over her black babydoll tee and ripped red jeans. "We're, uh… 'Detritus'? For now! Anyway, let's rock!"

The next thirty minutes was basically nothing but noise. Betty tried to smile and clap politely, and looking around, she could tell that was the general consensus; nobody was feeling Detritus. In fact, though most of the Riverdale attendees stayed where they were at, even if unenthusiastic, anybody from out of town took that opportunity to go hit the bathroom or get snacks or drinks. It almost made Betty wish she was old enough to get something stronger to drink - or to reconsider using Chuck's vape. Not that she really would, but she was more tempted than she expected to be.

Without any actual decent music to listen to, she found herself focusing on the band itself. They all seemed to be a bit younger - and she thought she had seen the lead singer around the halls of Riverdale High before. Definitely an underclassman. The drummer had dyed red hair instead of natural, and was quite buff, probably from all the drum practice. Then there was…

For some reason, she had the distinct impression that the blue-haired punker chick was looking at her every time she glanced her way. Not that her fingers ever played a single wrong note on the bass the entire time; even though Betty was no music virtuoso, she knew her way around guitars well enough to tell this girl was the one pulling the weight in this band. The other two were just messing around. 

The only thing that really could have topped their performance so far was the squeal of feedback in the lead singer's microphone - which they all got once they wrapped up their final song, and she grabbed it to yell, "YEAHHHH! Thanks, Riverdale - and give it up for the Pussycats, they're on next! Buy our demo tape at the table out there! Goodnight!" 

The cheering was most likely from relief. The trio quickly began dismantling their equipment, even though the drum set was just the Pussycats' drums. She could tell the ginger and the punker looked very underwhelmed and tired, but the lukewarm reception didn't seem to put even the slightest dent in the blonde’s enthusiasm. Then they jumped down the steps on the side of the stage and headed out toward the merch table.

Betty followed. Partly, it was because she hadn't even had so much as a chance to say hi to Nancy, and the boys were all busy hanging around with each other. But she also felt sorry for Detritus, and thought maybe they could use a kind word.

"Oh, hey!" the blonde said immediately. She was so short but seemed to have more energy than her two friends combined. "Did you like the show?!"

"It was, um, great!" Betty had never been a very good liar, even though her need to make people feel good about themselves usually trumped her guilt about lying. "You guys had so much raw energy, it was really intense!"

That made her grin from ear to ear, hands on her hips as the redhead just sort of lingered in a chair behind her. Their third member was nowhere to be seen. "NICE! That was exactly what we were going for - nothing but ROCK!"

"I still say we should at least try to learn how to play a little bit better before-"

"Shush, Danni - not in front of a customer!" She quickly turned back with a polite smile, gesturing to the cassette tapes. They were clearly homemade, the simple cover art of an anarchy symbol above the word "Detritus" done in MSPaint and produced on one of their moms' printer. "They're only five bucks! We were asking ten, but nobody's been taking them - they don't know what they're missing. We have some real bangers on there."

"Jinx…" When the blonde only waggled her eyebrows at Betty, her friend sighed and sat a little further forward. "They don't want it because it's bad, and we're bad."

When the one whose real name may or may not have been "Jinx" pouted, Betty made the decision to get out her card again. "Hey, I'll take one."

"Really?!" the girl gasped in complete shock. 

"Sure! I can tell you… have a lot of potential. And it might be cool to have someday when you're big and famous."

Even while Jinx was literally vibrating, Danni flashed her an awkward smile. "Uhhh, we don't have anything that can take that card…"

"I have some money," she offered, holding up the neatly folded twenty she kept behind her cards for emergencies.

"Uhhh… unless you want four of these, we can't make change… do you have Venmo?"

Betty smiled as she tried not to feel embarrassed. Her friends were always calling her a throwback, because she was so behind the times. Her parents just didn't believe in all that modern stuff, and made it a point to discourage her from even getting an Instagram account, much less anything else. "Can… you walk me through it?"

Danni was patient while explaining how to set up an account. She seemed depressed at how bad the show went, but was otherwise a very kind, warm individual. She had a very different energy from anyone Betty had ever met before.

And she figured out why once they had set up their accounts. Instantly, the name "Daniel Malloy" came up - and a picture of Danni with slightly shorter, browner hair, and no makeup. It was only from a few years ago, but there was a pretty distinct difference from then to now.

"What's wrong? Second thoughts?"

That was the only prompting Betty needed to put aside her surprise at what she had just discovered. She smiled and said, "Nope!" as she quickly entered a five and sent the payment. "There you go! Gotchu, girl!"

As awkward as her attempt to be cool had been, it seemed to ease the brief flare of anxiety she had seen on Danni's face. "Cool. Okay… yep, there it is."

"Here's your tape!" Jinx chirruped immediately, holding it up.

"Can I get it autographed?" Betty replied without really thinking about it - then blinked when she saw the other two had frozen in place. "What? Is… is that weird? I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"You… you actually want my autograph?" Jinx breathed hard through her nostrils a few times before half-screeching, "OMIGOD. This is like, our first groupie. Hooooly shit. What's… do I have an autograph?!"

"Just sign your name like you normally would," Danni said with a slightly higher register to her voice. Which Betty had now realized was a little deeper than most girls' - but she was now trying to un- notice things like that. She felt like she had learned something that was none of her business, and the guilt was probably what prompted her to ask for autographs in the first place.

"O-okay, I… okay, it's chill, I'm chill. I have a Sharpie! Hold on-" 

The pigtailed blonde pulled out a Sharpie, which was still in its paper-with-plastic-bubble packaging, and shredded it open. Betty had to try hard not to laugh. The girl was blushing a little by the time she pulled out the paper insert, practiced signing her name a few times in the air, then just went for it. She let out a sigh of relief as she passed the marker to Danni, who just laughed at her as she did the same a lot more calmly. 

"Cool, thank you! This is really great!" 

As Betty started to reach for the tape, Jinx piped up, "Wait, wait - hey, Jola! Come get in on this, we have an actual fan!"

Still trying not to feel too guilty for misleading the fledgling band in regards to her interest level, Betty turned with a polite smile - and her heart stopped. Standing inches away was the blue-haired punker, an easy smile on her lips. She was holding a clear plastic cup with what looked like Coke in it and seemed as if she had been there for quite a while, even though that wasn't possible; Betty would have noticed before now.

"Oh yeah? A real fan, huh?"

"Yeah!" Jinx said. Betty heard her distantly, because her eyes were busy taking in the sharp jawline and brooding hazel eyes, devilish smirk only growing. This close, she found herself reasonably certain this woman was a little older than her bandmates, though it wasn't easy to tell. "She wanted our autographs."

"Cool. Give it here." As Danni passed the tape and the marker over, Jola kept her eyes on Betty for a moment longer. "You were watching us pretty close, weren't you?"

Again, it was like a sixth sense was telling Betty that this girl actually meant she had been watching just her - which was correct, even if she didn't want to admit it was. "Yeah. I've never seen anything so intense."

Flashing one last smirk, the punker finally bent over the table, setting her drink down so she could sign the inside of the cassette insert. She shifted her hip slightly as she did so, and a flush crept up Betty's neck when she realized she had let it draw her eyes to how firm Jola's behind looked in those dark jeans. Even if it was only for a second, she still felt completely ashamed of herself, and very conflicted. Had she done it on purpose? Or was Betty just losing her mind?

"There. Thanks for coming out. I have to take off early, but… maybe I'll see you around Riverdale."

Betty took the cassette, which Jola had already closed up for her. "Um, yeah. Maybe I will. See you. Maybe I'll see all of you! Playing, or… or not."

"Yeah, of course!" Jinx said with a huge grin, fists perched on her hips. "Detritus is gonna be huge! You just wait!"

They all waved as Betty headed back in to see if she could find Nancy. At the very least, she was hoping to put an end to this awkward interaction. But when she looked back over her shoulder, even though the other two had gone back to talking amongst themselves, Jola's eyes were still on her. And they didn't leave her at all, up to the moment she was out of sight.

  ~ o ~

  "Oh my God, they have never sounded tighter," Nancy gushed as they headed back to their cars. "Right? Like, I know they're just from Midvale, but they are going to be so all over Tik Tok soon!"

"Uh huh."

"Valerie's bass solo? Come ON, that was everything! And Melody got her own verse in that second-to-last song - I didn't even know she could sing, too!"

"Yeah, it was really great," Betty offered with a wider smile. "Thanks for inviting me out."

They walked in silence for a few seconds. Truth was, part of the reason was because Betty's ears were still ringing from being a little too close to the speakers, but that definitely wasn't most of the reason she was so distracted.

"What is it?"

"Huh?"

"Come on," Nancy needled her with a nudge from her elbow. "I know you're not this speechless from the Pussycats. This still about Cheryl?" 

Grimacing at not being as hard to read as she had hoped, Betty shoved her hands in her pockets. "I-it's not about her, I promise. I'm just… all over the place."

Nancy nodded exaggeratedly, her puffs bouncing in the light breeze. "Suuuure. And I'm just some rando; don't bother explaining." When Betty didn't, she sighed. "I saw those muscle heads messing around and not even paying attention to you. Honestly, I'm not even shocked by Reg and Moose, but I expected better from those other two fools."

"It's fine," Betty said shortly. The truth was, she had forgotten all about the guys since that had happened, but being reminded of just how little Archie cared about her when all was said and done definitely didn't boost her morale.

"It's really not. Especially Chuck - I told him straight up that I would be busy snapping pics, he should have been looking out for-"

"Seriously, Nancy, I'm okay," she told her with a half smile as she stopped to reach out and put her hand on her friend's shoulder. Problem was, she almost dropped something that jumped out of her pocket in the process. "Oops - oh no-"

Though Betty had managed to snag the cassette out of the air before it hit the sidewalk, and was glad for that, unfortunately it was a little hard for her friend to miss. "What's that? I didn't know you picked up some merch. So are you a Pussycat convert, finally?!"

"What? Oh - I mean, hey, I've always liked them! But no, this is, um… that other band."

"Really?” Nancy's nose crinkled as her head drew back in mild surprise. "Uhhh… so you liked them, I guess? That's cool. They were definitely…"

Betty rolled her eyes. "They were terrible."

"Okay, I'm glad you said it." They both laughed. "But why would you buy some vintage ass tape from them if you didn't like them, either?"

Before Betty could stop her, Nancy had snatched it out of her hand to inspect it. And since she didn't have a good excuse to demand it back, she just swallowed hard and tried to explain. "W-well, I guess you could say it was a pity purchase? Like, those girls were trying so hard, I could tell. And nobody was at their table, and…"

"Wait… what's a Jolek?"

Baffled, she leaned over to see what Nancy was talking about. Sure enough, the name scribbled on the inside of the cassette insert was a little hard to read, and it did look like it could say "Jolek" as easily as anything. But there was something much more incriminating printed below the name - and completely legible.

Seven little numbers.

"Okay, girl," Nancy said with a rapidly growing grin as she swatted Betty's shoulder with the cassette. "This is why you've been so weird! Why didn't you tell me you got some guy's digits?"

But it was a little hard for Betty to respond while a panic attack was gripping her by the heart. She fought to control her breathing as she delicately reached out and took the cassette, folding it back together and putting it in her pocket as she pulled out her keys. Nancy laughed at her, understandably assuming she was just jittery about the prospect of going out with some new guy.

"Listen, I won't tell anybody. And if you're not into him, you don't gotta call him back, girl! Just lose that number!" Nancy tapped her chin. "Guess that's kinda hard to do when you bought the thing it's written on. Baller move on his part."

"Uhh, right. Baller. Hey, I think I'm really beat, Nancy - I'm gonna head home. Don't know why I'm so exhausted."

"Oh yeah? Aww…" Her friend pouted as she lingered near her own car, watching Betty move further down the sidewalk. "Hey, I was just messing with you. You know that, right?"

"No, no, I get it. Everything's fine! I'm just ready to go home. I'll see you on Monday, all right?"

Still looking a little let down, Nancy called back, "Alright, girl. I'm glad you came out! Mean it!"

"Thanks! Have a good night!"

Of course, Betty did not have a good one herself. The entire way back to her house, she was freaking out and questioning everything she knew to be true. There weren't a lot of reasons for Jola to leave her phone number below her autograph - and she was wholly terrified of what that reason could be.

  To Be Continued…

[wysteriadragon777]

Boys R back in town 😎

⚫️🔴🟢🦔💨

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Chapter Eight

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

(Next)

I have a lil surprise for y’all! From me and… someone else ;3

“That was fucking cool ass!” Toxic's jubilant declaration reverberated through the vehicle as she thrust her fists triumphantly into the air.

“Where do you even get these word combinations?” Scourge groaned, his grimace displaying his annoyance at Toxic's strange attempts at swearing.

“She’s right-might-bite! That was fucking cool ass!” Flying's exuberant cheer filled the air, his own excitement matching Toxic's as he pumped his fist energetically.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” Fiona interjected, her tone a sobering reminder amidst the buzzing atmosphere, “no doubt there's a huge bounty on this car, and someone at a mod shop could report it, or hell, someone could report us on the way.”

“So we’re dumping it?” Lightning inquired, his features relaxing as he pulled off his mask.

“Yup,” Fiona affirmed, mirroring Lightning's actions as she too removed her mask, taking a moment to readjust her hair, “I expected as much, honestly.”

“That sucks,” Scourge lamented with a hint of disappointment, his eyes rolling as he took off his mask, savoring the sensation of freedom as the cool air brushed against his quills.

“Don’t forget, baby, we'll be back on our thrones in no time,” Fiona reminded her lover, a note of reassurance in her voice as she raised a finger in emphasis.

“Oh yeah,” Scourge conceded with a grin, his gaze shifting to Toxic, his next words laden with a hint of nostalgia, “you won’t believe what it’s like being on the throne, kid. Cars, food, money, anything you want at the snap of your fingers.”

“I get, um, a throne?” Toxic's hopeful inquiry hung in the air, her eyes wide with wonder at the prospect.

“Well…” Scourge began tentatively, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, “if you're my sister and I'm the king, then you're the princess. I guess you get a throne...”

“I wanna be the king,” Toxic asserted, crossing her arms.

“Tough,” Scourge retorted, a smirk playing on his lips as he retrieved a cigarette, the flame from his lighter casting a fleeting glow on his face as he took a drag.

"Alright guys," Fiona's voice cut through the chatter, her gaze shifting towards a hopping brightly-lit nightclub they passed by, "looks like that club's busy tonight. Lightning, Predator, go in there and grab..." Her brow furrowed as she hummed in thought, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes, "like, 3 car keys from some drunken jackasses. After that, we gather our belongings, ditch this vehicle, and each take a different route home. All clear?"

After receiving a collective “yes ma’am” in response, Lightning and Predator smoothly exited the now-parked vehicle and made their way into the vibrant nightclub. In the dimly lit chaos of the club, they deftly relieved various inebriated revelers of their car keys without raising a single eyebrow. They swiftly rejoined their team outside, the metallic jangle of the ill-gotten keys echoing through the alley in which the SUV was parked.

Activating the locator buttons, they discovered they had acquired two sedans and a jeep - not luxury vehicles by any means, but perfectly suited to their immediate requirements. With their newfound assets in hand, the team efficiently redistributed the contents and occupants of the SUV, preparing to load up the newly acquired vehicles for their next move.

“Fiona and Toxic are with me,” Scourge announced decisively, standing by the red sedan he had selected, his posture exuding confidence. “Predator and Lightning, take a car, and Flying and Simon will likely opt for the jeep.”

“Where else can ya fit a jolly brown giant, eh, Simon?” Flying quipped, nudging Simon playfully, the latter responding with a resigned eye roll as he stood with his arms crossed.

“I wanna go with Simon!” Toxic's protest carried over as she hurried to him, her enthusiasm evident.

“They only got a two-seater, short stack,” Fiona interjected, her arms crossed as she leaned against the car, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice.

“Well, I can always hang with fuzzy and birdie!” Flying chimed in, bounding over to join Lightning and Predator, the latter struggling to conceal his irritation as a subtle twitch of his brow betrayed his composure.

“Your call, man,” Scourge addressed Simon, a nonchalant shrug accompanying his words. “You want this thing?” His gaze flickered disdainfully towards his sister.

Simon expressed his indifference with a dismissive shrug, muttering, "I don't care," before he offered a steadying hand to Toxic, who was clambering up into the rugged jeep. "Buckle up," he instructed firmly, "And take off your mask. Everyone else has already taken theirs off."

"No fuckshitty way. It looks cool," she retorted, stubbornly adjusting the seat belt across her chest.

Simon, under his breath, murmured a gruff, "I don't have time for this." Without waiting for her compliance, he reached over and stripped away the balaclava from Toxic's head in one smooth gesture, despite her immediate objections. "We'll attract the wrong kind of attention with these on," he explained, his tone brooking no argument.

Meanwhile, Scourge stood a little distance away, surveying the group with a casual eye. "Alright, see you guys back there," he called out, his voice carrying an air of finality as he slid behind the wheel of his own vehicle.

With a collective purr of engines, the group dispersed, each taking their separate paths, winding their way back home through the less traveled roads.

During the drive, Toxic became a whirlwind of chatter beside him, excitedly recounting every moment of their recent heist. She embellished the tale with animated sound effects and poorly done impressions, eager to relive the wild journey.

Simon, slightly exasperated, responded with noncommittal hums of "Mhm," and, in a quest for some auditory respite, he reached out and turned on the radio. He hoped the music would serve as a gentle distraction and perhaps encourage Toxic to quiet down.

Undeterred, Toxic continued her enthusiastic reenactment, eventually pausing to ask, "What was your favorite part?" Her foot tapped along to the rhythm of a song now playing, her energy undimmed.

"Dunno," Simon replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he maintained his focus on driving through a dilapidated shopping district. The flickering neon signs were caked with layers of dirt, the road was a minefield of potholes, and the omnipresent litter added a final touch to the atmosphere of neglect.

Contrary to Simon, the disarray didn’t seem to deter Toxic. Her attention was captured by a small, rundown diner. "I wanna eat there," she announced abruptly, pointing with determination toward the diner's partially illuminated sign.

Simon cast a skeptical eye at the establishment, his nose scrunching in distaste. "There? With all the money we have?" he questioned, the incredulity evident in his voice.

Toxic's enthusiasm was undeterred. "Yeah!" she squealed, nodding vigorously as her stomach offered a timely rumble of agreement.

Feeling the gnaw of hunger himself, he conceded with a resigned exhale. "Ok," he acquiesced, guiding the jeep to a stop beside the diner, parking it behind a solitary motorcycle.

Toxic's eyes danced with new interest. "Can I drive that?" she inquired, gesturing toward the motorcycle with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Nope," Simon answered, his response immediate and unyielding as he stepped out of the jeep. He extended a hand to help Toxic down and escorted her toward the diner's entrance, the neon glow of its sign washing over them in flickers.

Shockingly, the desolate ambiance and lackluster staff of the grungy diner failed to entice anyone to linger late into the night — except for a solitary figure. Seated at the counter, a tall polar bear woman clutched a beer bottle in one hand, her attention fixed on a news report detailing a recent bank robbery and ensuing police chase that had unfolded in the city, leaving a trail of casualties in its wake.

In a moment of recognition, Toxic's gasp pierced the quiet of the diner as she pointed animatedly at the screen, her eyes widening in shock. Before she could cause further commotion, Simon swiftly swept her up into his arms, his voice a harsh whisper as he admonished, "no!"

The sudden disturbance drew the attention of the polar bear woman, prompting her to shift her gaze towards the pair. Locking eyes with Toxic, she offered a gentle smile in response to the child's unflinching stare, her attention drawn to the vivid cyan glow emanating from her cybernetic eye, framed by intricate silver steel and peeking out from beneath her tousled white hair.

Known for their straightforward nature, children often possess a unique candor. Toxic, however, excelled in this aspect. True to form, she exhibited her unfiltered curiosity by bluntly pointing at the woman's cybernetic eye and posing the question, "What the hell happened to your eye?"

“Toxic!” Simon hissed, catching the young girl off guard and prompting a sheepish pause in her inquiry.

Rather than taking offense, the woman responded with a light chuckle, shaking her head with a hint of amusement as she turned her body to face the duo.

"Ah, this eye?" she began, gesturing to the eye in question, "it fell out because I didn't eat enough veggies."

Toxic's reaction was immediate, her skepticism palpable as she scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. "What a load of bullshit," she groaned, unimpressed by the explanation offered.

This caused Ursula to erupt in laughter, spitting her beer onto the floor as she doubled over, clutching her stomach in mirth. It took her a full minute to regain her composure, her laughter echoing through the dimly lit diner.

Amidst her amusement, Ursula managed to compose herself enough to address Toxic. "Oh," she chuckled, wiping away tears of laughter, "yer a spunky little gal. Toxic, right?"

With a nonchalant shrug, Toxic confirmed, "Yeah.”.

With a warm smile, the woman extended her large hand for a fist bump, which Toxic eagerly reciprocated. "I'm Ursula," she said, her laughter still evident in her voice.

Impressed by Ursula's style, Toxic surprisingly showed signs of politeness as she complimented her fashion sense in her own unique way. "I like your nails, Ursula. And your earrings. And your...” she paused, searching for the right term, “face earrings."

Ursula accepted the praise graciously, her amusement evident in her tone. "Why thank you," she replied, her smile unwavering, "I like them too. And I like yer hair."

Caught off guard by the unexpected interaction, Simon hesitated, feeling warmth creep up his cheeks as he met Ursula's gaze. "We're sorry to bother you, miss..." he began, his tone apologetic.

Ursula quickly dismissed his concerns, leaning casually against the counter and adjusting her black leather jacket. "Oh, not at all!" she reassured him, her demeanor friendly and relaxed. "She yers, mister...?"

"Sergeant Simian," he introduced himself, clearing his throat before adding, "and, erm, no. She's my boss' kid sister."

Ursula's response was warm and complimentary. "She's a sweet gal," she remarked, her words sincere.

"Well, you don't know her," he retorted, averting his eyes as a faint blush of embarrassment continued to color his cheeks.

“I’m hungry,” Toxic complained, tugging at Simon’s bandolier with impatience as her stomach continued to grumble and ache with the pangs of hunger.

“Well, uh…” the flustered gorilla spoke lowly before clearing his throat and raising his volume to be more audible, “good meeting you ma’am.” His words stumbled out in a mix of unease and courtesy, a subtle hint of nervousness seeping into his demeanor that he internally cursed himself for.

“I wanna sit with Ursula,” Toxic demanded, her tone once again insistent and unwavering.

“Jeez, you want a lot of things tonight…” Simon murmured through a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“By all means,” Ursula said graciously, motioning them to the two seats next to her, her gesture accompanied by a warm smile.

Internally, he cursed himself for his weakness against this already ill-mannered child. He placed her in the barstool next to Ursula, adjusting it so she could reach the counter before sitting next to her and grabbing a menu from the exhausted waiter that stood behind the counter.

Despite his embarrassment, Simon oddly enough found himself looking for an excuse to talk to Ursula. His mind's race for words luckily came to fruition as he noticed the steak in front of her. A flicker of curiosity sparked in his eyes.

“That any good?” He asked, his gaze flicking between her and the menu. His inquiry carried a hint of genuine interest, a subtle attempt to engage in conversation.

Ursula rolled her eyes a little and cringed as she answered, “dry, weak seasoning…” before she picked up the steak in her hands and bit into it, tearing off a chunk of it before devouring the piece. Her unconventional approach to dining caught Simon off guard, a mix of surprise and intrigue flickering across his features as he observed her. “But,” she began as she chewed before swallowing, “the beer makes you forget about that.”

“W-well… uh…” Simon stammered, blinking a few times as he processed the sight before him before looking at the zombie-like waiter, “I’ll, erm, have a patty melt and a black coffee.” His order came out in a hesitant manner, another sign of his slightly flustered state in the moment.

“Mhm,” they hummed, “and the kid?” The waiter asked monotonously.

“What do you wanna eat, Toxic?” Simon asked, leaning closer to Toxic who was scribbling on her kids menu with a used-up green crayon

Toxic hummed in thought as she stared at the menu before poking Simon’s shoulder and motioning him to lean in. Once he was close, she whispered matter-of-factly in his ear, “I can’t read.”

With a sigh, he let the waiter know it’d be a few minutes while he helped her decipher the menu, leading her to loudly declare that she wanted a grilled cheese sandwich with orange soda.

“Ah, take it easy on service workers,” Ursula advised, ruffling Toxic’s hair, “they go through enough. Especially in this world.”

“Fine…” Toxic acquiesced, lowering her head. “Can I have, um, a grilled cheese sandwich and then I wanna drink orange soda.” Her compliance was accompanied by a hint of hesitation as her eyes shifted to Ursula who held an approving thumbs up to her.

Simon reeled his head back in surprise. This was by far the most ill-mannered child he’d ever come across, and this woman they’d just met somehow had the charm and charisma to prompt her to behave acceptably. He’d be lying — which he would — if he said he didn’t understand the appeal Toxic saw in her. Simon found himself grappling with a mix of astonishment and intrigue, recognizing the subtle influence Ursula wielded over Toxic and those around her.

She was definitely… interesting.

The food didn’t take too long to get there. The dishes served were as good as one would expect from a diner of this quality. The bread on Simon’s patty melt had a hint of staleness, and the patty was quite dry, but overall, it was still edible. On the other hand, Toxic, who had spent her life in an orphanage that eventually closed down, possessed a less refined palate than Simon and eagerly devoured the slightly burnt grilled cheese sandwich.

All of a sudden, Toxic let out a whimper as she put down her half-eaten sandwich and covered the reddened cut on her lips with her hand.

“The sandwich hurt my mouth…” she whined, her speech muffled by her hand, revealing a moment of discomfort.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t pick at the cut,” Simon chastised with a roll of his eyes.

“Aww,” Ursula said with concern as she gently moved Toxic’s hand and examined the cut, “that looks bad, lil girl. What happened?” Her expression softened with empathy.

“I fell off the slide,” she explained, her tone mirroring Ursula’s as she clearly soaked up the loving attention.

Inhaling sharply through her teeth, Ursula winced and asked, “ooh, did ya see a doctor?” Her concern for Toxic's welfare being evident with a gentle ruffle of the child’s hair.

“Sort of. We know a medic and she’s taking antibiotics,” Simon replied, soothing Ursula’s worries while taking a sip of his coffee.

“Well, if ya need any help with that, my friend Clarisse is a doctor,” Ursula offered, pulling a napkin from the holder in front of them and retrieving a pen from inside her jacket. She jotted down Clarisse’s phone number on the napkin before sliding it across the counter to Simon, extending a gesture of support.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Simon replied with a nod of gratitude.

“Anytime, soldier,” she lightly teased, saluting him with a wink, adding a touch of humor to the exchange.

The second he registered her wink, as if by reflex, he abruptly looked away, shifting his gaze to Toxic as her eyes darted between them while she absentmindedly picked at her lip.

“Knock it off,” Simon sternly reprimanded, nudging her hand away from her face.

“Ugh!” Toxic groaned in response before diverting her attention back to her sandwich, her frustration evident in her actions as she displayed an exaggerated frown and took a big bite into her meal.

As Ursula held what was left of her steak in one hand, her phone rang. With her speech slightly garbled from chewing, she answered the call. “Yah?” Her chewing gradually slowed, and the composed expression on her face began to falter as she listened intently to the caller, “thlow ‘own. Woss ‘appenin?” With a hint of concern creeping into her voice, Ursula set down her steak and swallowed the bite, muttering a curse under her breath. With a sense of determination, she declared, “ok. I’ll be there in a bit,” before ending the call.

“Who were you talking to?” Toxic asked, leaning in closer to Ursula, her curiosity piqued as she raised a questioning brow.

“I hate to leave you two, but I got a good feeling we’ll see each other again,” Ursula remarked, swiftly retrieving her wallet from her pocket and tossing cash on the counter, instructing the waiter to keep the change. Her actions conveyed a sense of urgency and purpose as she prepared to depart, a glimpse of her commitment to helping others in need.

“Is everything ok?” Simon asked without thinking, a rare moment of concern breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.

“Will be soon. You two enjoy your late-night snack. Good meetin’ ya!” Ursula bid them farewell before swiftly exiting the diner and speeding away on her motorcycle, leaving behind a sense of mystery and intrigue in her wake.

“I like Ursula,” Toxic remarked, taking a sip of her orange soda.

“She’s nice…” Simon murmured, his eyes drifting down to his plate. He continued to eat, resting his elbows on the counter as he held the patty melt in his hands.

Toxic carefully eyed his movements, resting her elbows on the counter as she picked up her sandwich and took a hearty bite. She noticed Simon wiping some grease off his chin with his thumb and followed suit, dabbing her own chin with her thumb.

Once they finished their meal, Simon signaled the waiter and paid for their bill. He slid off his barstool and stretched, his joints making a faint crackling noise.

“Ready, Toxic?”

“Ok,” she replied, letting out a small grunt as she climbed down from her barstool. She followed Simon out of the diner and back to their jeep. They continued to take the long way home, the engine purring as they drove through the various city streets.

As Toxic stared out the window while they passed by neon lights and towering billboard advertisements, her eyelids grew heavy. Her animated chatter slowed, and eventually, she fell silent, her head leaning against the door.

“Simon…” she murmured, her tiny voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Today was my favorite day,” she said, her voice becoming softer as her eyes fluttering closed.

Simon’s thoughts drifted back to a pivotal moment in his life. He remembered the day vividly—the day he first truly embraced the life of combat. His old colony in the Mobian Jungle had been ruthlessly attacked by Robotnik’s forces. In the aftermath, he had dedicated himself to stockpiling weapons, acquiring them through any means necessary, even illegitimately. His grandfather had disapproved and cast him out, but Simon remained resolute in his quest for revenge. He launched a one-man assault on a Robotnik base, risking everything. Though he nearly perished in the onslaught of reinforcements, he harbored no regrets. He was ready to die in a blaze of glory. Instead, he was saved by Mammoth Mogul, the former leader of the Destructix, and given the chance to grow stronger. And grow he did, his resolve unwavering.

Simon’s gaze shifted to Toxic, who had fallen asleep, her head resting against the door panel. Despite her crass behavior and turbulent beginnings, she possessed a fierce determination that reminded him of himself years ago. She showed no hesitation in tasks like gunning down law enforcement and had a remarkable knack for marksmanship. Most admirably, she had no regrets about any of it. All of this, and she wasn’t even five years old.

“Just you wait, kid,” he murmured, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

As the wee hours of the morning descended, the group made their way back to the familiar confines of the old orphanage without encountering any significant obstacles. Exhausted by the night's tumultuous events, they retired to their beds, seeking much-needed rest.

Armed with a considerable sum of illicitly acquired wealth, they now had more than enough funds for the cybernetic implants they desired. The following day, Scourge visited an auto shop to enhance the purple sports car he had commandeered while chasing his sister earlier in the week. In addition to repairing the window damaged during the pursuit, he had the vehicle repainted in a gleaming electric green hue and outfitted it with a matching spoiler, giving it the appearance of a sleek racecar—a subtle nod to his supersonic speed.

"It must be my birthday!" Scourge declared exuberantly, letting out a triumphant whoop as he cruised through the city streets. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and he bobbed his head in time to a hip-hop beat playing on the radio.

"Just wait until we're back in power," Fiona remarked with a grin, tapping her foot to the music while setting up her new laptop, which Miles would use to coordinate with the gang through their upcoming cybernetic enhancements.

"Then it'll be Christmas," he chuckled. "Have you found us a street clinic?"

"Yeah, Dr. Fedorov's Clinic. The reviews say he's good at what he does and values patient confidentiality, if you catch my drift," she replied slyly, offering a wink.

"Perfect," he nodded approvingly, flicking his cigarette butt out of the window.

"I messaged him, and he does provide the implants we need, but it will cost extra since they are military-grade and not exactly legal. He does have other stuff too if you’re interested?" she continued.

"Really? Show me," Scourge requested, turning his attention to her.

"Eyes on the road, babe," Fiona playfully scolded. "Don’t wanna be in a body cast before the big day."

“C’mon baby, your boy’s a good driver…” the green hedgehog began, his hand stroking her arm with a self-assured smirk. However, the tender moment with his girlfriend was short-lived as he abruptly hit the brakes, narrowly avoiding a collision with a turning car. The irate driver honked at him, prompting Scourge to retaliate by flipping them off and calling out, “up yours too, you old bitch!”

Fiona leaned her elbow casually against the door panel, raising an eyebrow as she rested her cheek on her knuckles, her gaze fixed on Scourge.

"What?" Scourge inquired, bewildered by her demeanor.

"Is this why you prefer running?" she queried, her tone laced with sarcastic curiosity.

"Cut me some slack, Fiona. I'm just hyped about everything that's happening, plus I've got a hot girl by my side," he retorted defensively, shrugging his shoulders.

"Am I too much of a distraction?" Fiona teased, a playful glint in her eye. "Because I can hop out."

"Please, exit the moving vehicle," Scourge replied amidst laughter.

"I might just do that. I'd probably better have better chances with that than being in a crash with you at the wheel," she jested, joining in his amusement.

"You bitch," Scourge teased, shaking his head.

"You're a bitch too," she shot back with a smirk, playfully poking his arm.

"The baddest of them all," Scourge declared, raising a finger in emphasis.

“Damn right,” Fiona replied, affectionately resting a hand on Scourge's shoulder, causing his grin to widen in response to her gesture.

“Does our doc buddy take walk-ins?” Scourge inquired, pausing at a stoplight and tapping his finger on the steering wheel, displaying a hint of impatience as he waited for the light to turn green.

“Yeah, but for now, we only have time for the procedures Miles mentioned. He says if we want it done today for three people, they better come in pretty soon,” Fiona answered, retracting her hand to focus on her laptop.

“Call the guys, then. Make sure Miles gets some food and water before they head over. Can't have a dead rat lying around,” Scourge instructed, his tone casual.

“On it,” Fiona responded, scrolling through her contacts. “And while we're out, how about you and I grab some actual food for a change?”

“Takeout only,” Scourge declared, navigating through the pristine streets maintained by private cleaning companies in this upscale area. He adjusted his sunglasses as the reflection of a sleek skyscraper caught his eye. “This place is different from the slums. People pay more attention to politics around here. They might recognize me.”

“As long as it's not dripping in grease, deal,” Fiona agreed, raising her phone to her ear to notify the Destructix about the upcoming appointment.

From what Scourge told them about the clinics, the gang harbored some reservations about visiting one. These establishments often offered walk-in surgeries for cybernetic implants and plastic surgery, resembling tattoo parlors in their approach. Overall, the idea of undergoing surgical procedures in a building situated across from a strip club left them feeling somewhat uneasy.

Despite the initial reservations, the clinic appeared to be well-regarded and maintained when Simon, Predator, and Lightning stepped into the empty waiting room. The sole occupant, a teenage receptionist, was engrossed in air drumming to a tune playing on her earbuds, her eyes shut tight, oblivious to their arrival.

Unperturbed by her distraction, Predator approached her and deftly removed her earbuds, eliciting a startled yelp as she opened her eyes to meet his unyielding gaze.

"Jesus, dude! What do you want?" she exclaimed.

"We're here to see the doctor. Our boss arranged cybernetic procedures for the three of us," Predator stated firmly, his expression as unchanging as a statue’s.

"Uh, yeah..." she stammered, clearing her throat and avoiding his chilling gaze. She turned her head towards an archway down the left hallway. "Hey, Uncle Rick? These guys are here."

"Come on back, fellas!" a gruff voice called out from the indicated direction, prompting them to follow the sound into a small, dimly lit operating room. The examination table, peculiarly equipped with straps for the arms and legs, was surrounded by an array of advanced equipment and technology that seemed more at home on a spaceship than in a street clinic. Why the technology on display surpassed anything they had encountered on Mobius, which was already far from primitive.

“Alright, so here’s the rundown,” he began, fixing his sunglasses, “Each session will take about two hours each. Y’all will be put under the whole time and won’t feel a thing. Aftercare is just a pill a day to help with any aches and fight off infections. And before I forget,” he added, extending a hand forward expectantly “payment’s up front. 9,000 moebiums.”

“That’s insane,” Lightning scoffed, crossing his arms.

“These are military grade implants you fellas are asking for,” Dr. Fedorov chided, “illegal without government authorization and not exactly a commodity amongst street clinics.”

“Relax, Lightning,” Simon said, smacking Lightning gently on the back of the shoulder before handing over the cash. “We can afford it regardless.”

After quickly thumbing through the bills, Dr. Fedorov grinned, his gold tooth glinting from the soft glow of the neon lights in the room. “Great. Who's up first?”

“I will go first if nobody objects,” Simon declared. When the group didn’t object, he continued “alright, you guys don’t gotta wait around ‘til I’m done. Go do whatever.”

“Later, man,” Lightning said with a wave, motioning for Predator to follow him out of the clinic.

For Predator, it felt like he didn’t get to spend much one-on-one time with Lightning nowadays. As they strolled past the many vibrant, and some vulgar signs and advertisements, his gaze flitted between the colorful displays, but his focus remained on the man beside him. Remembering the previous night after the bank robbery, when Flying ended up joining them on the ride home, Predator couldn't shake the feeling that something important to him had been interrupted. Nevertheless, now they had this time alone, and Predator felt a unique sense of calm and connection with Lightning, like they were a force shielded from the chaos of the world around them.

Reflecting on these feelings, Predator wondered if it was strange to experience such closeness with a longtime companion like Lightning. More than anything, though, he pondered whether Lightning felt the same way in his presence.

The blaring horn of a passing car jolted Predator back to reality, causing him to shift his thoughts and chastise himself for delving into such introspection. He recognized that dwelling on these feelings served no practical purpose and only served as a distraction from their established camaraderie.

Lightning, however, caught sight of Predator's gaze from the corner of his eye before the blue hawk quickly averted his eyes. Frowning slightly, Lightning inquired, "you alright?"

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine," Predator replied, clearing his throat nervously, feeling his heart skip a beat under the scrutiny of Lightning's gaze.

“Okay,” Lightning responded, raising an eyebrow in skepticism before dismissing it with a shrug. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“I’m open to anything,” Predator answered.

“Anything? Even the XXX Live Theater? Sign says it’s half off Wednesday,” Lightning teased, nudging Predator playfully with a mischievous grin.

With a soft chuckle, Predator shook his head, “god, live theater? What is it, broadway?”

“Yeah, a full-blown musical,” Lightning jested, sharing in Predator's amusement.

“It’d probably be better than that one-man play Flying did last year. I’ve never heard an audience actually scream boo,” Lightning remarked as they stood waiting to cross the street.

“Well, whenever you spray the front row with a fire extinguisher while screaming the alphabet, it really kills the mood,” Predator quipped with a shrug.

“Hopefully the ‘Happy Holiday Special’ doesn’t have as many problems,” Lightning remarked as they began walking across the crosswalk together.

“The what?” Predator asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“You heard me,” Lightning replied with a small laugh.

“Lovely,” Predator said sarcastically.

"To be honest, though, Hawks, it feels like you and I don’t hang out as much lately," Lightning remarked, wrapping an arm around Predator in a friendly gesture. "We got a couple hours to kill and it’s a big ci- what was that?"

“What was what?” The blue hawk inquired, dumbfounded.

“Your feathers got all puffy for a second and your tail, like, wagged,” Lightning pointed out, a teasing smirk playing on his face.

“I was only adjusting my feathers,” Predator replied, feigning interest in reading a nearby sign as he struggled to hide the flush creeping up his face.

“Hm, alright then,” the lynx chuckled, not entirely convinced by his friend's explanation but choosing to let it go.

Eager to shift the focus away from the embarrassing moment, Predator quickly scanned their surroundings for a distraction. His gaze settled on a skyscraper about half a mile away, sparking an idea.

“Well,” he began, an implicative grin forming, “I bet the view from that skyscraper is breathtaking.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lightning responded, intrigued.

“If you want, we could find out for ourselves,” Predator proposed.

“I’m down,” Lightning agreed enthusiastically.

With a swift motion, Predator spread his wings and took flight, with Lightning leaping up to grab onto his ankles. Carrying his friend effortlessly, they shot through the air toward the towering skyscraper, their destination in sight.

Upon reaching the rooftop, Predator landed smoothly, allowing Lightning to hop down onto the concrete.

“Wow…” Lightning marveled, settling on the edge. “This city may be a dump to live in but… you were right about the view.”

“I’ve... never seen anything quite like it,” Predator admitted softly, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily softened by the awe-inspiring sight before them.

The mesmerizing horizon held them in silent awe for several minutes. Sitting side by side, they absorbed the symphony of flying vehicles' gentle hum and marveled at the kaleidoscope of colorful city lights flickering below. Even in the daytime, the urban landscape sparkled as sunlight bounced off the polished surfaces of the towering skyscrapers.

Despite their shared knowledge that New Moebotropolis was far from utopian, in that moment, they felt a sense of detachment from its flaws. In the serene stillness of the sky, even the most sordid aspects seemed to fade away, revealing an unexpected beauty in the urban chaos.

In the presence of one another, they both found beauty where no one else could.

"I wonder what the view’s like from somewhere even higher?" Lightning mused, casting his gaze towards an even taller building.

“That’d be all well and good, Lightning,” Predator replied, “but I’ve a feeling you’d want to do more than just sightseeing…”

“Maybe I do,” Lightning responded, turning to face him. “What did you have in mind?”

“We freefall,” Predator declared as he rose to his feet. “As far down as we can.”

“And potentially splatter against an airbus?” Lightning quipped with a chuckle.

“Lightning Lynx, when did you start to fear risking your life?” Predator teased, lowering himself to Lightning's level, a smirk playing on his lips as their eyes locked.

“Who said I did?” Lightning shot back with a playful tone, standing up.

“Ah, yes. Because you know better than to forget who is looking out for you,” Predator remarked, rising to his feet.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lightning scoffed before playfully urging, “you first, Hawks!” and gave Predator a sudden push over the ledge.

Predator's eyes widened in surprise as he tumbled backward. Although he knew he had nothing to fear as a bird, he never expected his friend to push him off a roof in any circumstance. Moments later, as Lightning leaped after him, a mix of determination and smugness on his face, their eyes met, and Predator couldn't help but grin with a blend of amusement and camaraderie.

Adjusting his position in the air, Predator oriented himself downward, maintaining a vigilant watch for any potential obstacles as he descended rapidly towards the ground, with Lightning not far behind.

For Lightning, the sensation of detachment from solid ground was both exhilarating and liberating. As he ripped through the air with no fear, embracing the risk and the rush of adrenaline, he felt a profound sense of empowerment that surged through him, amplifying the thrill of the freefall.

As they descended closer to the ground, Predator turned towards Lightning once more and gestured for him to grab onto his feet. After aligning themselves, Lightning firmly clasped his ankles, and in a swift motion, Predator shot back up into the sky, narrowly evading the bewildered onlookers below.

Reaching the next skyscraper, they paused to savor the breathtaking view before Lightning, brimming with confidence, snapped a photo of the duo against the urban backdrop. Without hesitation, they plunged back towards the earth. As they neared ground level, they propelled themselves upwards to an even taller skyscraper, repeating the cycle from one building to another until they reached the tallest skyscraper around.

"This time," Predator announced, positioning himself at the edge with his hand extended towards Lightning, "we fall together."

With a warm smile, Lightning took Predator's hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with his trusted companion. "On three... one, two, three!" Predator counted before they both leaped off the ledge, their hands clasped tightly as they plummeted towards the ground.

The thrill of freefalling was intense, but the shared experience with one another made it all the more exhilarating. As they locked eyes during their daring descent, the rush of adrenaline was magnified by the bond of something more than mere friendship that united them in this extraordinary escapade.

Lost in the thrill of the moment, they failed to notice how rapidly they were approaching the ground. As Lightning turned his head to take in the surrounding view, his initial excitement swiftly transformed into a sense of urgency when he realized their perilous proximity to the sidewalk below. Reacting instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Predator's neck, gripping him tightly as he shouted, "Pull up, Hawks!"

Cursing softly under his breath, Predator swiftly extended his wings and ascended back into the sky, maneuvering them both safely back to the rooftop of the skyscraper they had leaped from moments before.

"Jesus, Hawks!" Lightning gasped, his heart pounding in his chest, momentarily forgetting that his arms were still wrapped around Predator.

"Sorry, Lightning," Predator responded, placing a comforting hand on Lightning's shoulder as the lynx sheepishly withdrew his arms.

"Don't worry... I still had a great time," Lightning managed to say between pants, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Me too," Predator replied sincerely, giving Lightning's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. With his eyes stuck on his companion’s grin, he felt compelled to speak up, "Hey, Lightning?"

"What's on your mind?" Lightning inquired, noticing a shift in Predator’s demeanor as he somehow seemed startled by his own question.

Retracting his hand and wiping sweat from his brow, Predator let out a deep sigh and gazed down at his feet before asking, "where would you like to grab some lunch from?"

"How does ramen sound? We can have it here," Lightning suggested, perched on the ledge.

"Sounds good. Wait here, and I'll bring it up, okay?" Predator agreed, gazing out at the horizon before spreading his wings and taking flight.

During his search for a ramen shop, his mind was tearing itself apart. Predator Hawk was anything but a coward, but he couldn’t bear the risk of jeopardizing the bond he had with Lightning. He treasured his relationship with him deeply, considering him one of his most cherished, irreplaceable companions. With only a few words, Lightning may never see him the same again. After all, he still held bitterness about his heart being broken by Conquering Storm several months ago. Would broaching this potentially sensitive topic cross a line with Lightning? Could it imply to him that their friendship was lacking in some way to Predator? Even if Lightning responded the way he dreamed, what then? With his lack of experience in that field, things could end badly, thus causing him to lose both what he has now and what he wishes he had.

Besides, he couldn’t risk revealing such a deeply personal and vulnerable side of himself. For years, he had meticulously worked to mask that part of his identity, a task he had undertaken since childhood, ever since his own mother had abandoned him.

He had long known that she didn’t like him. She was constantly yelling at him for things including not making eye contact, swaying in his seat, fussing when things were too loud, or struggling to express himself. But it was the late-night arguments between his parents that truly exposed the depth of her resentment. As he lay awake in bed, he overheard her tirades, calling him a freak and resenting his father for not giving her a "normal" child. In comparison, his father’s disdain was more subdued until she left.

From that painful moment on, he resolved to improve himself so that no one would ever want to leave him again. Every day became a challenge to better himself and reach new heights. By his teens, he had become a fierce soldier in the Battle Bird Armada, learning to endure eye contact, sit still and quietly, manage overstimulation, and most importantly, mask the parts of himself that had previously been shunned by others.

Despite his fierce pride and genuine enjoyment of his achievements, his father rarely showed any pride in him. No matter how much he changed and grew, to Nigel Hawk, Predator would always be the abnormal child who drove his wife away. The day Predator was promoted in the Armada, he returned home, packed some essential belongings, and left without a single word to his father, severing contact forever.

For a time, his might and determination to be the best were his only constants. These traits saw him through being expelled from the Armada for attacking the Battle Lord's son and during his tenure with the Babylon Rogues. However, after joining the Destructix, despite its shifting leadership and affiliations, he found another constant.

Simon, Flying… and Lightning.

He knew what it was like to lose him. Even with his gratitude for the presence of Simon and Flying, when Lightning left the Destructix to rejoin the Raiju Clan—where he wasn’t nearly as valued as he had been among the Destructix—a part of Predator felt hollow. The empty chair at the table, the silence where Lightning’s words should have been, left an undeniable void.

Lightning had been back for quite some time now, and although Predator hadn’t shown it much, he was overjoyed by his return. It was because of this that he knew he couldn’t reveal his true feelings for Lightning. The revelation would inevitably lead to the displaying of a weak, vulnerable side of himself that may push Lightning away. Predator resolved to take these feelings to his grave.

No matter how foolish it seemed, though, he wanted it more than anything. The more he repressed his feelings, the louder they became. Even if he wouldn’t allow himself to act on them, he couldn’t lie to himself—they were undeniably there.

"Predator?" Lightning's voice cut through the silence as the two gazed out over the urban horizon from the skyscraper, each holding a takeout lunch.

Lost in his thoughts, Predator had barely registered the last thirty minutes.

"Yes?" Predator responded, trying to collect himself after noticing Lightning's concerned expression.

"You haven't even opened your ramen," Lightning remarked, twirling his chopsticks in his bowl before taking a bite of noodles. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just waiting for it to cool more..." Predator replied, clearing his throat as he removed the lid, releasing a puff of steam into the air.

"Then why'd you keep the lid on?" Lightning inquired. "You know that just traps the heat."

"I guess I forgot," Predator admitted, absentmindedly taking a bite of his meal then wincing as he spat out piping noodles that had burned his beak.

"Slow down, Hawks!" Lightning cautioned. "You seem really out of it. You sure you're okay?"

"I said I'm fine, Lightning," Predator responded, wiping the mess with a napkin.

"I know you better than that. What's wro-"

"I said there's nothing wrong," Predator cut in sharply.

Taken aback by his tone, Lightning reacted with a scoff of offense before turning away, muttering, "fine."

The two lapsed into a bitter silence, finishing their meals before receiving word from Simon that his procedure had gone well and it was time for one of them to undergo it.

"Do you want to go next?" Lightning asked, his gaze locked on his phone rather than Predator.

"Fine," the blue hawk replied impassively.

As they flew back to the clinic together, the storm in Predator's mind raged on. He hadn't intended to be harsh with Lightning, but he couldn't let his inner turmoil spill out. Now, tension lingered between them. While he knew they could likely overcome it, the guilt of his treatment towards Lightning weighed on his heart. Concealing his feelings felt crucial, yet he pondered how far he would need to go to maintain that facade.

Above all, he questioned whether it would be worth doing so in the end.

…

(SO the surprise was revealed! It’s Ursula the Polar Bear!!!!! For those unaware, Ursula belongs to @ceoofdestructix and was written in with both their permission and guidance! Thanks for letting me use the mama bear, friend! I can’t wait to write more “surprises” with your help 😉)

[gaybananabreaad]

I participated in the Sonic the Hedgehog Big Bang 2024 @sthbigbang event as a writer, and wrote a Honeezie fanfic! Here is the link to the fic on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56807215

And most importantly, go check out the 3 amazingly talented artists who made illustrations of the fic!

@holidaymidi

@corefenarts

@knizuu

I will edit and link their art posts directly to this post ASAP, and reblog them later!

Holidaymidi's art!

Knizuu's art!

Corefenarts' art!

"Ah, who doesn't love a good family game night? A nice evening during which a family can strengthen their bonds between each other, no matter if it's a found family, or in this case, a mostly built one.

It’s about time that Breezie, Scratch, Grounder, Coconuts, and even Honey the Cat gather around the table at Breezie’s living room for a good ol’ fashioned “family” game night! Countless shenanigans ensue as the evening goes on and the group tackles a multitude of different party and board games, such as poker, charades, and pictionary. And as the night grows older, there is no better way to cap off such a night than a good movie!

But will everything truly go the way everything was planned, especially with Scratch and Grounder around? And what is that weird feeling in the back of Breezie's mind about Honey...?"

[adamkdexter]

Fan-fiction Requests [ OPEN! ]

Hello! I'm Gray, a writer and comic artist with a couple published works. Right now, I'm opening fan-fiction requests! Read the rules below the cut, drop your request in my inbox and I might write it and post it on AO3. Hate it? Welp, no money lost there. Love it? Great! Consider tipping me through Ko-fi! That's all!

An ever-changing list of the media I'm willing to write fics for can be found here.

I'm most likely to write for whatever's in bold. If you don't see a fandom in there but still want to see me write a fic for it, feel free to inbox me asking if I've seen it before sending a request in! Same goes for ships. I've too many things on there to list my ship preferences, so feel free to inquire about those too.

What I WON'T write:

Outright smut. Trust me, I won't do it right. SLIGHT foreplay and fade-to-blacks work fine though.

Pedophilia and Adult/Minor ships, incest, non-con, dub-con and other such bullshit.

Fics for media I'm unfamiliar with.

Anything I'm uncomfortable with.

Mulit-chap fics. ( Unless I feel like it )

What I WILL write:

Shipfics, even for ships I'm not into.

Platonic, familial, antagonistic, queerplatonic relationships and whatever else.

Fics where a character develops in one way or the other.

Fics where a character devolves.

Fix-its. ( Especially for BBC Merlin. )

First and third-person fics ( but third person is preferred ).

Here's a sample of my writing in the form of a quick mini-fic.

She was an Opera Singer. Shoddy but blessed with the luck of a thousand clovers. He was an architect. Top of the line. Designed the very site of their demise. I met them both on the same day. They didn’t seem to know one another and yet the glint in her eyes was so in-tune with his that I first pegged them for lovers.  I’m here to assure you they were certainly not. She had a husband that wasn’t him, and he had a wife that wasn’t her. It just so happened that they were in a similar predicament. Coincidentally. Otherwise there’s no way they would’ve come to me.  I took care of it at a fair price: a couple of dollars and two lifelong friendships. Lifelong for them, that is. My life's still ongoing.  It was throughout the span of that friendship with me that something not particularly favourable had blossomed betwixt them. A ponderable passion. It was nothing sensual or emotional, but maybe spiritual– it was like they were both part of something the rest of the world wasn’t in on.  You know– one day she came up to me and she said something to the effect of... “I wish we’d both just disappear together”  But also without one another.  Her eyes told me the latter bit.  I didn’t expect them to go out like that, though. Definitely not. I didn’t even know she could sew! Oh and with that joint will, too, no less! How ironic.  Somehow, they look happier this way.  But, what do I know, right?  I’m nothing but a humble apothecary, really, nothing more.  That’s all I can tell you — because it’s all I know. So won’t you go on with that marvel of a will now? It’s getting late. 

I'd recommend only tipping after you see the fic just to make sure you didn't send money out for something you don't like. This is also because I reserve the right not to fulfill every single request. So the only way to be sure it'll come through is to wait 'till the fic is up!

[atmymercy]

Riverdale Fanfic

Title: Burger Love

Ship: Jeronica.

Summary:

Invites sent, kissed and sealed for the Blossoming Fall Party at Cheryl’s. The gang was excited to have a night out, yet Veronica was not expecting to see Jughead joining. He wasn’t the party-going type so why is he here? Especially after she just admitted a tipsy secret!

.

Set in Season 1.

[ a03 link - chapter 1 ]

[ a03 link - chapter 12 ]

[ Wattpad link ]

[thestorygenerater]

So I am planning on writing a story where sonic prime happens but with other cannon universes like Archie or Boom but I am struggling with which universe to start with, I’d like to hear your thoughts for help (side note, since prime is supposed to be cannon and Archie sonic is way more similar to modern sonic then I’d like, prime sonic IS modern sonic but younger in this story, after shadow the hedgehog)

1. Sonic Underground start

Pros:

very similar to new yoke so similar start.

It’s sonic is different enough so there’s unique interactions off the bat.

Underground’s siblings would help prime realize that he is in another universe.

Underground’s Robotnik fighting style would be very different to prime so more fun interaction.

Cons:

No tails means no tech and no tech means wild prism energy

2. Archie Sonic

Pros:

tails can make prime’s tech

Archie sonic has faced scourge so he could start by fighting (character interaction)

Enough content to be revisited multiple times like new yoke

Cons:

I don’t have to much ready for a Archie start

Would fit better as a mid-final location after establishing everything first

Could be revisited like new yoke despite not being the first visit

3. Sonic Boom

Pros:

Tails can make prime’s tech

A light start?

Cons:

Honestly this works way better as a No Place replacement.

4. Sonic the Comic

Pros:

A very different sonic to contrast prime sonic

Prime’s treatment of tails and Comic’s treatment is very different

Prime could go super and scare Comic’s friends

FLEETWAY SUPER SONIC VS SUPER SONIC WOULD BE AMAZING!!!

Cons:

I am less familiar with this continuity

I’m unsure if this tails has as much tech experience, even if he could help prime he might not offer too

Going super with wild prisms energy might be complicated or seem like a deus ex machina (though I will admit if done right it COULD be a positive but it would be tricky)

5. Movie Sonic

Pros:

Tails can absolutely fix the wild prism energy

You have 3 familiar characters to keep track of with 2 new ones

Movie Sonic’s character is way different with more interesting interactions

Cons:

It’s harder to set up eggman, he would fit better as a surprise twist but we will need to see a universe with Eggman’s involvement first to be shocked when he is missing

Without a Eggman base it’s hard to START a search for the paradox prism

With movie sonic staying in one spot more often it’s hard to get the story going

I’d like to hear your thoughts

[twinsoftheday]

today's twins of the day are:

zack and cody martin from the suite life of zack and cody

[starwritesficsandstuff]

They NEED to make a mega man cartoon that follows the plot of the games. I like the existing cartoons/anime well enough, but I'd very much like to see a cartoon in the same vein as the archie comics. Heck, I'd take original story lines that fall in-line with the classic game canon too. I'd just be refreshing to see something that sticks with the original formula after Fully Charged took so many risks and creative differences (even though I will admit, I quite like it!).

[themightyhumanbroom]

I like naming my fics after songs and I would love to use this on a particular wip of mine but there is one problem:

While I have no current plans of including Eclipse the Darkling in my AU at the moment, I really do wanna save this song for him because my God do I think it fits (at least for how I would introduce him to the plot).

[forkanna]

Betty Cooper had an easy time suppressing those rainbow thoughts in the back of her mind - right up until Veronica Lodge transferred to Riverdale High. It's been two years, and she's still suffering in silence. Senior Year, however, the status will no longer be quo.

WARNINGS: Not many, other than some homophobia (shown as negative) and a few chapters of smut.

NOTE: Welcome to the ship of ships. The one that I had been trying to work on for at least twenty years, and never could quite latch on to the exact direction I wanted this plot to go - until now. Betty and fucking Veronica.

Fun fact about me, I'm not exaggerating when I say I've been an Archie fan since I learned how to read. My mother would purchase the little digest magazines from supermarket checkout lanes as a means of shutting me up and keeping me occupied while she went about her daily errands. I still have a couple of digests from those days, even though most of them are gone - but believe me when I say I have dozens and dozens more. Needless to say, as hyperactive as I was, she gave me a lot of them, and I got to know the Pals and Gals better than most of my real life friends.

Even in my youth, when I still bought into the heteronormative framing of the world around me, I still found myself fascinated with the blonde and brunette pair, who could often switch between best friends and worst enemies on the same page. They regularly seemed like an old married couple. The older I got, the more often I started to wonder, “If this comic is called ‘Betty & Veronica’, who needs Archie?”

By the way, this is not a Riverdale fanfic. I'm only gently poking fun at the Riverdale TV series with a few references here and there. I liked the series for what it was and thought the cast was phenomenal, even though it got a little out there from the second season forward. But this is a Comicverse fic and not a CW!Riverdale fic - even if I might grab an idea or two from the show. Just don't expect for Jughead to become a leather-clad biker and hook up with Betty in this particular story.

Also, since both of their names are in the title of their comic, I decided to alternate between their perspectives every chapter. Hopefully it's not too annoying.

Anyway, this is a very long-winded author's note, I know. Just you wait and see how long-winded the actual story is! I don't expect very many people to stick with me for the entire ride… but trust me when I say, it's going to get gay as hell.

Jessex

---------------------------------------------------------------------

PROLOGUE

"ELIZABETH COOPER!"

Betty's head jerked back from where she had been leaning in to examine her fair-but-plain features in the bathroom mirror. At least her makeup was alright again - understated and basic, but flattering; no rouge, no heavy eyeliner, no seductive wings. Just foundation and mascara, and pale pink lip gloss.

So very unlike the racy red of the other girl's lips, scowling her down from the doorway. It seemed to fit her luxurious raven hair and her more voluptuous figure, hugged by her blouse and skirt as if painted upon her fit, flawless form. 

But that certainly wasn't rouge on her cheeks. No, that flush was all natural rage.

“Of course it’s you! I should have known!”

"Veronica!" Betty finally gasped, dropping the tiny mascara wand to clatter against the countertop and into the basin. That would never be the same. "I… what are you doi-"

"Where do you get off?!" The force of nature strode up to stand directly in front of her, the ladies' room door banging shut behind her as she poked Betty in the chest with her manicured finger. "You knew - you absolutely knew that Archiekins and I had a date tonight! And here I find you, skulking around in the powder room like you're lying in wait to pounce on him! I oughtta box your ears!"

"I… what?! Ron, I am doing no such thing!" Betty fired up, balling her hands into fists and standing on her tiptoes - to look her bitter rival in the eye. They were the same height, evenly matched, but those heels gave her frienemy the tiniest advantage. It didn't seem fair. "Archie and I are hanging out tonight - not you and he!"

"Him! He and me!" 

"Yee and hoo?!" Betty shook her head and snapped, "Stop - what are we doing? Why are you here with him - how did he do this to us again?!"

Veronica rolled her blazing brown eyes and started tapping her expensive black pump. "He didn't do anything! You, the sneaky little blonde snake - you knew I would be out with him and hornswoggled him into making a second date on the same n-"

"Come on, Ron, you know that's not-" She threw both hands skyward. It didn’t matter to Veronica why they were in this situation - or that what she and Archie were doing didn’t even really count as a “date”, in Betty’s book. Veronica just needed a target for her fury. "Why do you always make excuses, always blame me? That crumb just can't remember how many dates he has lined up!"

"Stop trying to pass the buck! I know it was you - and it's my birthday! And why are you even out with Archie, anyway? This is just too far, Betty, I-" Even though still furious, pain started to creep into Veronica's gorgeous, supermodel-level features. "I can't do this anymore! How are we supposed to be friends if I can't even trust you not to steal my date out from under me on my birthday?!"

"I don't know!" Tears began running down Betty's cheeks. So much for her perfect mascara. Not that she really expected to go back to Archie's side tonight; that ship had sailed. She could never compete with Riverdale's favorite rich girl, even if she still wanted to. "You never care what I say, you don't listen to me! I could say 'Archie was beamed into my movie by moonmen' and you wouldn't even blink! I don't know what to do to please you!"

"What do you want from me?!" Veronica shouted, making Betty flinch from the volume. "You're ruining my birthday! I never get to turn eighteen a second time - you even said that yourself at my party! What is wrong with this town?! Those other clods already loused the party up, Cheryl couldn't even stay out of my hair - and all I wanted was this one date to actually… and you show up, and take everything from me AGAIN!"

The words reverberated off the porcelain and tile. Betty's chest was heaving with the effort of not panicking. She had seen Veronica lose her temper so many hundreds of times that it had become routine, but this wasn't at all the same. She was both distraught and furious.

Moreover, Betty was alone with her. She couldn't endure this again.

"I'm sorry," she barely whispered as she pushed past her, heading for the door - until a grip tightened around her arm through her cardigan. "H-hey! Stop, don't- don't hurt me, I-"

"What?!" After they blinked at each other for a few seconds, Veronica tugged her in close and hissed, "Cooper, I can't believe you just said that. I can't believe how you're looking at me right now - like I would ever lay a finger on you!"

"But you have! And you're hurting my arm right now! Let go of me!"

"I…" Veronica did let go - only to pin her to the nearest stall door by the shoulders. "Don't run off, we're not done here! I have a right to be upset about my birthday getting ruined, and you had better listen!" 

All Betty did was nod.

"Stop crying!" Another flinch, and Veronica's face became so much more pained. "Betty… we've both fought like alley cats over the years, but you know I'd never legitimately hurt you… right?"

No answer.

"Oh my God! " After blinking at her a few times, Veronica let go and took a step back. Her eyes remained wide as Betty's tears flowed freely, as if they could never be stemmed. "After everything we've been through… you don't even know me. Some 'best friend'." She cleared her throat and turned away. "Forget it. This whole day is shot. You can both soak your heads; I'm going home."

Her hand was barely resting on the door when Betty said, "You came with Archie. Didn't you?"

"Yeah." 

"Then you have no ride home."

"I'll… call Smithers. He can bring the car around. Or maybe I'll hoof it."

"Don't crack jokes like that," Betty said soberly as she walked closer and rested a hand on her shoulder. "You can't walk all the way home from the theater - I… I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you 'cause of me."

"You already ruined my day. Why don't you just let me ruin the rest of my life?" Veronica's bottom lip trembled as she stared up into Betty's baby blues. "What do you care? I'm just the resident rich bitch."

Blinking in shock at the word, she sputtered for a moment - then said, "You're my best friend."

"Your best friend who wants to hurt you?" Her head shook a few times before she whispered, "You've been acting spooked by me for a while now. Ever since we broke into the school. I tried to pretend it was nothing, tried… but I knew something was amiss, even before the bake sale, before the car wash. Just what are you afraid of me doing, Cooper? What is it about fashionable li'l ol' me that has you so far out of your tree?"

And exactly three seconds after that question was uttered, one tiny mistake changed their friendship forever.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

    BETTY & VERONICA: UNATTAINABLE

CHAPTER ONE

From the moment Veronica Lodge landed in her life, Betty Cooper couldn't stop her from getting under her skin. It was almost as if some higher power had seen how flawless her idyllic little life was and decided it could really use a diamond-encrusted monkey wrench thrown into the works.

Growing up in the sleepy little upstate town of Riverdale was as close to perfect as a girl like Betty could hope for. Not just because she had wonderful parents and a sweet big sister, good friends, and never wanted for anything - but because Riverdale itself was one of the best places to live in all of America. Affordable housing, clean air, gorgeous forests and parks and rivers and lakes. The neighboring towns of Greendale and Midvale had their share of issues, and they couldn't compete with how ritzy Pembrooke was, but nothing bad ever seemed to happen in her own hometown - certainly no grisly murders or dangerous cult activity. Most major crises usually centered around one particular individual, and they were always rather tame.

That seemingly cursed individual was Archibald Andrews. The boy next door, both figuratively and literally, was a freckle-faced ginger all-American young man with a heart of gold. His heart certainly wasn't the problem; no, his wandering eyes and two left feet were the parts that made him almost as infamous as he was famous among the citizens of their fair hamlet. The well-meaning klutz couldn't stop chasing any pretty girl that drifted into his field of vision, and usually wound up causing minor property damage in the process.

And Betty had always loved him. Ever since they were little kids, running around and playing softball and going swimming in the old watering hole, she had her sights set directly on the same boy. Nobody else came close to holding that space captive in her soul the way Archie did, all the way into their high school years.

Enter Veronica. 

Though the whispers of a well-to-do family from the Pembrooke area deciding their child would slum it in the far more blue collar Riverdale didn't make any sense, they persisted the entire summer between Betty's freshman and sophomore years in high school. Then, on the first day of classes, she waltzed into everyone's lives and upended them soundly.

She could remember it like it was yesterday…

  ~ o ~

  "Who is that?"

Betty's blonde ponytail bounced as she whirled to face the direction in which Nancy Woods was pointing. She had been busy neatly taping a picture of Archie to the inside of her locker and hadn't wanted any distractions, but she thought it was only polite to see what her friend was talking about.

A brunette walking down the hall wasn't altogether unexpected. Even the fact that it was actually the rich girl everyone was talking about; she had heard the whispers as much as anyone had, even though she didn't like to put too much stock in gossip.

What Betty didn't expect was the immediate reaction she felt in the pit of her stomach. She had never seen anyone who looked quite so perfect in her entire life. Not Archie, not any of the other boys in town - even Reggie Mantle, who would tell anyone who listened that he was the ideal specimen of manhood. They all paled in comparison. Only people on television looked that good. 

Here was Veronica Lodge herself, with her effortlessly conditioned curves and silky raven locks falling a few inches past her shoulders, decked out in a blue dress that barely hid everything between her collarbones and the middle of her thighs, and the matching strappy heels on her dainty feet. Her earlobes, fingers, neck, wrists, and even one of her ankles were adorned in gold and glittering gemstones that could easily have paid off Riverdale's budgetary deficit - with change left over to treat everyone to a burger at Pop Tate's Chocklit Shoppe.

Yet more than those other details, her face looked as if it had been chiseled from marble by the finest Greek artisans. And the worst part was, she could tell there was no creative cosmetic surgery to thank; she was just that beautiful, all on her own.

Betty had thought women were beautiful many times before, of course. Especially her own mother; she was one of the prettiest in town, and she thought the world of her mom. None of them had ever hit her like this . Not in a way that reached down deep and touched her very soul, and made her question everything she thought to be true and certain.

At least that existential quandary had only lasted right up until the moment Veronica first opened her mouth and spoke to her.

"What are you looking at, Townie?"

As she walked off down the hall with her head held high, Nancy let out an exasperated sound. "Wh… excuse me? Where does that heifer get off, talking to you that way? What's wrong with her?!"

Betty had no idea. All she knew was that some little bud sprouting up within her heart had just been crushed flat. Though she would never admit it to anyone else, that pain took her into the little girls' room, where she spent at least ten minutes trying to figure out why she was crying, and how she could stop the tears so she could get to class.

  ~ o ~

  And so it went. Over the following couple of years, she watched as Veronica turned Archie's head as easily as flipping on a record player. Though he would occasionally remember Betty existed, and never minded hanging out with her for a while, if he had to choose which girl he wanted to go out with on a date, it was always the new girl from the affluent side of the tracks. He would save up any money he could spare from whatever after-school job he happened to have that week, just so he could treat her in the manner to which she had become accustomed over a lifetime of being spoiled rotten.

Not that Betty could blame him. What red-blooded male wouldn't want perfection? She was just some tried and true, dependable friend, and Veronica was Veronica . Any time she set her sights on a boy, Betty got steamrolled even worse than the Riverdale Bulldogs at every other football game of the season that year.

Still, she fought back when she could. They had so many bickering matches that a person could think they did it for sport; maybe they should have signed up for the debate team. Somehow, they had even become friends when they weren't at each other's throats. Of course, they vacillated wildly between extremes, but they always seemed to come back to a central location of "gal pals" eventually.

For a while, everything was something like copacetic. But as they say, the good can only last so long - and their luck ran out when their senior year arrived. Turned out, Riverdale was host to more than one diamond-encrusted monkey wrench.

  ~ o ~

  "Ahhh, it's so good to be back!" 

Archie chuckled good-naturedly as they strolled in through the doors of Riverdale High. "Is it? I don't know about you, but I was kind of enjoying my summer."

"Well, okay, so was I," Betty hedged as she trod the familiar path to her locker. "A lot more than I thought I would."

Which was largely due to the absence of her primary rival. Veronica had spent almost the entire summer in Milan, shopping and hobnobbing and otherwise being wealthy. Though she had told Archie to keep holding a candle for her, and threatened Betty with bodily harm if she took advantage of her absence to try to woo him away, she hadn't exactly kept that promise. Nothing more noteworthy than a few snuggles had transpired, but neither had she behaved like a hermit; if Archie wanted to hang out with her, then she would hang out. Simple as that.

There had only been one other complication. But she was doing her best not to get caught up on thinking about it; so many days were spent down at the old watering hole - trying not to ogle each other now that their interests had evolved from cartoons and video games. At the drive-in, fingers brushing deep in a bucket of popcorn. One soda, two straws, at the Choklit Shoppe. Though Archie had never said those three little words she longed to hear - "No More Veronica" - and he had definitely been distracted more times than she could count, it had been a magical few months. 

"Well, I didn't," Jughead Jones sighed as he left his hands stuffed deep into his jeans pockets. He had no backpack or stack of books, which wasn't unusual for the easygoing slacker on the first day of school. "While you guys were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, I was the only one who showed up for the Fourth of July hot dog eating contest."

"So what?" Archie said with a roll of his eyes. "You won by default."

"Yeah, and where's the fun in that?! They still gave me a plate of hot dogs, but that only had five on there. FIVE! Compared to the several dozen I planned on mowing down, that's just an appetizer!"

"Listen to the bottomless pit over here!" Reggie chuckled as he snagged Jughead around the neck and yanked him in to give him a noogie, knocking his trademark crown beanie off. He managed to snag it out of the air before it fell, even if he couldn't quite slip out of his friend's grip. "You nerds can't find anything better to do than eat competitively?"

"As if there is anything better," Jughead griped as he finally wriggled out of the headlock. "Arch spent the whole time running after girls; we didn't even go fishing."

"Oh no," he gasped theatrically. "You mean… you mean you didn't fish?! Ye gods! Whatever will Loon Lake do without you controlling its population?!"

"Can you be somewhere else?" Archie finally sighed with a roll of his eyes. "We're already in school, and you're draining every drip of fun out of it that's left."

Raising both hands defensively, Reg rebutted, "Chee, who died? Forgive me for trying to liven up this party."

"The party has arrived."

They all turned to see Veronica standing there, and looking as bronzed and glorious as she ever had. And there was very little they could miss, given that she was wearing practically nothing at all: a bikini top and cutoff jean shorts that barely covered her lower asset. Not a single tan line in sight - even under the straps of her flip-flops. The designer sunglasses completed her pinup look, as if she had stepped right out of a page of a swimsuit magazine.

"Gaaaahhhhleeeeee," Reggie groaned weakly, not even bothering to hide where his eyes were pointed. "You look… cheese and rice, those Italian beaches didn't hurt you a bit!"

"Uh-huh," she giggled, sashaying past him. "Hey, Archiekins, Bettykins… Juggiekins." 

"I'm no kin of yours," Jughead sneered.

"And thank the Lord for that!"

"I hope you remembered to use sunscreen," Betty said - in a carefully mild voice. She wished she knew why she felt so lightheaded right now. "Too much sun isn't good for your skin."

"Oh really? Is that what happened to yours, Cooper- tone Girl?"

As Reggie chuckled, Betty just pouted. She was still too flustered by how different Veronica looked after only a few short weeks to come up with a killer rebuttal.

"Lay off her, Ron," Archie chuckled as he gave her a huge hug. Betty could see that he intended to pull away after only a second, but Veronica held on - humming when the hum wasn't at all necessary. "I, uh… it's good to see you! Glad you had a… nice vacation? I hope?"

"Mmm, almost perfect," she sighed as she pulled back, finally sliding her sunglasses up a little higher on her head so she could look him in the eyes. "If only you had come along with me like I offered… but it's alright. I had the time of my life, even without my bumbling beau."

"You offered?" Betty demanded, now that her voice had returned from the Twilight Zone.

"I did, Cooper." She grimaced slightly. "Except Daddy un-offered on my behalf. Said he didn't want Archie to trip over a stewardess and force our plane to crash in the Alps."

"That's Arch to a T!" Reggie guffawed, clutching his sides as Archie scowled at him. 

"Oh, gee, thanks, Mantle. Anyway, I wasn't even sure about winging off overseas for the whole summer - not when I needed to help Pops around the house with a bunch of projects. Plus, I'd miss the rest of the gang!"

Betty only had about three seconds to feel her heart flutter at knowing Archie had chosen her over Veronica - before Veronica herself scoffed, "Uh-huh. So that wasn't you hopping up and down, raving about how bad you wanted to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa?"

"Uhhh, well," he chuckled nervously as he tugged at the collar of his Riverdale sweater-vest. There went Betty's flutter, dead as a door-nail.

That was as much time as they got before that pesky little complication reared its not-so-ugly head. They were still laughing at Archie having stepped in it again when they began to realize everyone around them was whispering behind their hands, looking further along the hallway. They could only pretend not to notice for so long before curiosity got the better of them. 

"Nobody should be making a bigger splash than me," Veronica grumbled as she dragged Archie along behind her. The others followed, forcing their way past the mob until-

"Oh no," Betty groaned weakly, feeling as if another year had just been shaved off her lifespan. "Not her again! I hoped she was joking about transferring here!"

"Wait, who is that?" Jughead asked with a raised eyebrow.

The very "that" was a curvy redhead with sparkling emerald eyes and a boisterous laugh that seemed to fill the narrow hallway. Somehow, her khaki shorts were even shorter than Veronica's, and her green keyhole halterneck top showed off nearly as much skin. Though she wasn't all softness; the interloper was a few inches taller than she or Betty, even without her wedges, and the little stripe of midriff visible showed off some serious abs.

"She really came," Archie breathed, a look creeping into his face like that of a little kid on Christmas morning. "I… I thought there was no way…!"

Even as he gawked, she finished chatting with Moose Mason and swatted him on the brawny shoulder with another boisterous laugh - just before she saw the group gathered to gawk at her a half-dozen feet away. The minute she spotted Archie, she grinned even wider. 

"ANDY!"

As if summoned by sirens, Archie bounded forward and threw himself into her arms. Not only did she accept this rather forward advance, but she kissed him. Not just a little polite peck on the cheek; she practically swept him off his feet, locking their lips together. They stopped just short of crossing into French territory.

A blood vessel was pulsing somewhere on Veronica's forehead. "What… fresh… Hell…?"

"Veronica, meet our new competition," Betty sighed, folding her arms tightly over her chest. "Cheryl Blossom." 

"Blossom, hmm?" For just a second, a change came over Veronica's face as she watched Mrs. Grundy show up and start berating the two for their public display of affection getting out of hand. She was a lot more contemplative than upset. However, what she said was, "Betty?"

"What?"

"I think you and I are going to have a lot of work ahead of us this year."

With a relieved sigh, she stepped up to stand next to her rival-and-friend. "I'm so glad you agree. Ever since she's been sniffing around Riverdale more often, I've had to keep prying him off her! We really have to stick together and scoot her out of the picture, I think."

"We do," Veronica hissed as she finally turned to look straight into Betty's eyes. "I may not trust you when it comes to Archiekins, but in all other areas, I know I can count on you, True Blue Cooper. Let's team up and take her down!"

"Let's do!" Betty said with a little smirk that she could scarcely believe she was wearing as she and Veronica shook hands. Her palm was so silky… "Riverdale isn't ready for the combined forces of Betty and Veronica!"

"Hmm… I think I like 'Veronica and Betty' better," Ron replied thoughtfully as she slung her arm around Betty's shoulders and led her down the hall, away from their pet project.

"But 'Betty and Veronica' flows best. Plus, it's alphabetical."

"Details, details. You and I have work to do - and when we're done, Archie won't know what hit him!"

Which sounded wonderful. If only Betty knew whether she was more excited to pry Cheryl off their Boy Next Door with a crowbar… or to be working so closely alongside the Greek goddess herself.

  To Be Continued...

[rainbeausobsessions]

Fuuuuuuck bro, they kept giving Sally’s dad so many villain origin story bullshittery and tried to not make him an evil king???

I was just rereading the wikis about the Sword and Crown of Acorns and apparently the sword was, like, trying to take over Sally’s mind or some shit? I remember reading that issue and honestly just being confused. That whole arc was weird tbh.

But yeah, apparently Maximillian had an evil, sentient sword, had Dr. Robotnik as an advisor, and the evil Ixis Naugus as his court wizard - AND WAS TOTALLY CHILL GUYS. We can have literally three incredibly powerful evil schemers within arms reach of the MOST POWERFUL MAN IN THE NATION and it’ll all be FINE. Maximillian is FINE, guys.

There was, like, no implications about what this kinda fuckery did to the kingdom, which is wild because the drama writes its fucking self! Especially with the Prowers right there, their little revolutionary hearts questioning if a monarchy is a good idea as they watch their friend descend deeper and deeper into corruption.

[vendettaspathfanfic]

Chapter Nine

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter is where the more full-on action gore begins. It also contains mentions (not depictions or descriptions) of suicide. Reader discretion is advised.

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

(Next)

As previously mentioned, Moebius found itself in the throes of an environmental crisis. Despite the lack of government support for initiatives to address the crisis, various efforts were being made. One prominent player in these efforts was BioSphere Reclamation Inc., a widely recognized private company. Individuals utilizing their services could opt to pay a one-time or monthly fee, with the funds allocated to projects aimed at cleaning up selected neighborhoods in various cities. Typically, affluent neighborhoods received more attention compared to lower-income areas.

Upon accumulating sufficient funds for a specific location, BioSphere would dispatch teams of cleaners to tackle issues such as litter, graffiti, and general uncleanliness, while also nurturing green spaces within the area.

While such companies tended to benefit the affluent more than others, there were more charitable alternatives available. Dr. Kintobor’s SWEEPbot service, for instance, operated on a non-profit, cost-effective model, albeit facing significant challenges in the battle to preserve a deteriorating planet. Nonetheless, Dr. Kintobor’s efforts played a pivotal role in establishing natural reserves like the Moebian Grand Forest.

Surrounded by a scarcity of thriving nature, McKenna often found herself pondering the potential location of a place she faintly remembered, a place teeming with lush greenery and beauty. However, her recollection of the time before she was adopted was shrouded in a dense fog, impervious to restoration despite her adopted mother's earnest attempts.

That’s what her mother told her anyways.

Over the span of the last decade, Dr. Versipelle had been her mother, providing her sustenance, conducting lab tests, dressing her, subjecting her to body modifications, empowering her, sequestering her, showing her affection, and terrifying her. Following a disturbing incident where McKenna was ordered to taste the blood of a dead man and experience the echoes of his tragic demise through the residual energy in the sample, Her mother tenderly tucked her into bed and recited poetry to soothe her. After undergoing unwelcome surgeries that involved the modification or replacement of various parts of her body, McKenna would be beautifully serenaded on the piano. And following instances where she pushed her magical abilities to their limits, causing her nerves to feel as though they were ablaze, Dr. Versipelle would join her for tea in the greenhouse.

Now, McKenna found herself alone in the greenhouse, awaiting to be called in for a forthcoming surgery intended to adjust her brain and replace her eyes once more, enabling her to perceive visions with utmost clarity. Despite her disappointment about this—having been assured last year that her third-eye abilities had reached their peak—her mother explained that a new threat had emerged, compelling them to leave no stone unturned in service of the Suppression Squad and the greater good, a mission that encompassed both of their fates.

She reproached herself for her surprise at the revelation. As her mother often emphasized, the realm of science and technology was in a perpetual state of advancement. If it were true that progress knew no bounds as aforementioned, there would always be opportunities for further modifications, experiments, training, and pain.

Yet in that moment, all McKenna yearned for was to immerse herself in nature, even if it only manifested within the confines of a softly illuminated greenhouse. From the earthy soil to the delicate petals, the environment felt like a sanctuary to her—a place that resonated with a sense of belonging. Her thoughts drifted to the forest of her distant recollections, envisioning the sensation of grass beneath her feet, the gentle rustle of wind through the trees, and the harmonious melody of a flowing river. She held onto the determination that one day, she would somehow relive these mysterious yet beautiful memories.

Sitting on the edge of a concrete planter box brimming with a bed of roses, McKenna delicately inserted her finger into the soil. With closed eyes, she concentrated intently and took a deep breath, causing her finger to emit a soft glow beneath the dirt, illuminating the surrounding soil. Upon withdrawing her finger, a small yet beautiful daisy bloomed within the spot that had shimmered moments before.

"Hello, little friend," McKenna murmured tenderly, stepping down from the planter box and kneeling in front of the freshly sprouted daisy, viewing it at eye level. "I know you're amidst roses instead of daisies, but there are no daisy beds here. The roses are quite lovely too, however," she remarked softly, extending her hand to caress the velvety petal of one of the roses.

"McKenna, to whom were you speaking?"

Startled, McKenna swiftly turned towards her mother and rose to her feet with her eyes widened. "Nobody, mother," she replied meekly.

"You act as though you've been caught in a transgression," Stellaria remarked slowly, approaching her daughter with a scrutinizing gaze, her hands concealed behind her back.

"I was just looking at the flowers..." McKenna stammered, her fingers twiddling nervously while her arms remained rigidly at her sides.

"Maintain eye contact," Stellaria commanded sharply, causing McKenna to swiftly meet her mother's gaze, which was swiftly followed by a pleased smile before Stellaria redirected her attention to the flowers. "Did you plant that daisy there?"

Aware that she couldn't deceive her mother, given Stellaria's unparalleled understanding of psychology and ability to detect when someone lies; McKenna hesitated before responding, her trembling fingers betraying her nerves. "The gardeners still haven't planted the daisies that you requested for me, mother. It's just a small one," she explained.

"It's an eyesore. It doesn't belong there," Stellaria remarked icily, pointing at the flower. "Pluck it."

With a crestfallen expression, McKenna knelt down slowly and plucked the daisy from the flower bed. She knew she could preserve it in a glass of water for a brief period, but the little daisy would be deprived of the company of other flowers. Despite the dissimilarities between the daisy and the surrounding flowers, McKenna couldn't help but feel a sense of remorse that the lone flower couldn't flourish within a populous garden setting.

"I would have preferred a more mature attitude from you, McKenna," Stellaria remarked, her eyes narrowing as she fixed her daughter with a stern gaze. "You do trust my judgment over a silly flower, don't you?"

"Of course, mother," McKenna replied softly, shaping her expression into a neutral mask.

"Good. It's time for your surgery. Follow me," Stellaria announced, turning on her heel and gesturing for McKenna to accompany her.

"Mother..." McKenna began tentatively, her voice trembling as she sought to decipher her mother's inscrutable expression. "I've been thinking... perhaps if I focused on meditation more, I could enhance my ability to see visions clearly without undergoing surgery."

Glaring at McKenna with icy contempt, Stellaria crossed her arms. "Let me pose a question to you, McKenna. Do you believe that any of my actions are motivated by malice towards you?"

Taken aback, McKenna gasped, raising her hands defensively and shaking her head quickly. "No! I was just—"

"Do you think I act impulsively? How little faith do you have in me, really? Every decision I make is the culmination of generations of research and my unwavering love for you. What causes you to doubt my reasoning, McKenna?" Stellaria hissed, looming over McKenna with a look of disdain.

"Nothing, mother!" McKenna protested, tears welling up in her eyes as she bowed her head in shame.

"Nothing makes you doubt me?" Stellaria growled, seizing McKenna's chin to force her to meet her gaze.

"No! I trust you! I swear! I just didn't want to endure more pain!" McKenna whimpered, her tearful eyes pleading with her mother's intense blood-orange gaze.

"Well," Stellaria remarked, releasing her grip on McKenna's chin, "I take no pleasure in your suffering, but time is of the essence, and we require unwavering precision when it comes to your abilities. On that note, your other cybernetics will be undergoing upgrades. But, you know I always strive to minimize your discomfort and ensure a swift recovery."

"Of course, mother..." McKenna whimpered as she struggled to maintain a facade of composure.

With a warm smile, Stellaria tenderly caressed McKenna's cheek. "Let's put this little tiff behind us. You're a smart girl, and I trust you realize that my intentions are always guided by what I believe is best for you."

"I do, mother. I apologize for offending you," McKenna replied softly, leaning into her mother's gentle touch.

"I forgive you, my dear. Now, let's proceed," Stellaria said, taking McKenna's hand and guiding her to the medical bay to prepare for the upcoming surgery.

Obediently, she decontaminated herself, underwent the pre-operative testing, and resigned herself to yet another in a long series of medical procedures. What could she have done otherwise? Each time she attempted to assert herself, her mother would effortlessly counter her arguments. Every tear she shed only seemed to elicit further disapproval. Progress seemed futile as for every step forward she took, she found herself stumbling two steps back.

Her existence felt like it was predetermined, with her own identity beyond her control.

Upon waking, she found herself back in her room, her body engulfed in a searing sensation despite the effects of the painkillers she had been given, a recurring postoperative discomfort she had grown accustomed to. She knew that with her mother's advanced technology and her own modified flesh, any visible traces of the surgery would soon fade, but she knew this wouldn’t be her last procedure and the vicious cycle would repeat itself.

Forevermore.

As she glanced to her side, she noticed a vial of pills, her water bottle, and a bouquet of daisies in a crystal vase left by her mother, accompanied by a note expressing her good wishes.

Unable to do much more than endure the agony in her bed, McKenna closed her eyes and wept silently.

McKenna's experience, although extreme, was not unique in the realm of those who endured suffering to win a parent's approval. Years ago, a young boy who once called himself Sonic found himself thrust into the role of the caretaker for his family. Following the loss of his father's position at the Royal Court, they were forced to sell their opulent home and lay off the household staff that accompanied it. At just eleven years old, Sonic found himself responsible for cleaning their much more modest lower class home, preparing meals for himself and his parents, and tending to the needs of the new baby.

On a particularly challenging day, he returned home from the grocery store, pushing the stroller that had once been his own through the doorway with one hand and clutching bags of groceries with the other. The journey had been grueling, as Tara incessantly cried despite his best efforts to soothe her, drawing looks of both pity and annoyance from passersby and leaving Sonic feeling irritated and ashamed.

"Hey mom," Sonic called out to his mother, who lay on the couch staring blankly at the television, wearing the same loungewear she had worn for days, showing little acknowledgment of his presence. "I got Tara to stop crying. I just walked her around the block for a little while once I was done at the store, and she finally got tired and fell asleep. Maybe come with us next time, and I'll show you?"

Unsurprisingly, she remained silent, blinking slowly as she paid scant attention to another news report on the failing economy.

"Let's watch something else," Scourge suggested. "I gotta put this stuff up first."

After stowing away the groceries, he tenderly settled Tara in the bassinet, shushing her gently as she began to fuss, letting out a sigh of relief as he gently coaxed her back to sleep.

"Let's check if that one funny cooking show's on," Sonic enthusiastically suggested, settling down on the couch next to his mother, deftly flicking through the channels. As he scanned for the familiar program, he stole glances from the corner of his eye, hoping for even the slightest reaction from her. His brow furrowed with concern, his focus shifting back to the screen, his thumb rapidly tapping the remote in a desperate quest to find the show that once brought them shared laughter in years past.

For nearly a year now, beginning when his mother discovered she was pregnant again, she had gradually let go of self-care, her smiles, her words, and seemed perpetually fatigued. Following their moving and her subsequently giving birth, her well-being deteriorated further, withdrawing into a state of near-perpetual recline in the living room, seldom rising except for a few essential tasks.

He knew she was sick. While she didn’t cough, vomit, or faint, she had become a mere shell of the mother who loved and held him. It was as though something parasitic lurked within her mind, sapping away the warmth and vitality that once radiated from her. Thus, she was trapped in a shattered state in which she didn’t have the strength to tell her own son she loved him.

His father's absence only compounded the family's struggles. When he was actually present, the only signs of him being in the house were the lingering scent of rum and muffled heated phone conversations about his latest financial misstep in the stock market coming from the master bedroom.

Despite the overwhelming weight of responsibility and the heaviness of his heart, Sonic continued to navigate the challenges of their strained household with a sense of unwavering determination. Each day, he carried the burden of caring for his baby sister and tending to his ailing mother, silently vowing to someday bring back the light in her eyes and hear her express pride and affection once more.

Alas, that day never arrived.

As Scourge sat on the hood of his newly-altered car in the litter-filled alley beside the orphanage, he felt as if he had just awoken from a nap; a long-expired cigarette dangling between his lips. How long had he been lost in this haze of dissociation? More importantly, why was he wasting time ruminating on the past again? It wouldn’t fix anything that happened or change who he was. Shaking off the memories that threatened to pull him deeper, he swapped the spent cigarette for a fresh one and fished his phone from his pocket, eager to blast some music to cleanse his mind of the clutter.

“Can I have one?”

His ears pinned back in irritation as Toxic’s voice sliced through the stillness of the alley.

“If you can get your own,” he sneered, casting her a glance filled with distaste as she peeked out from the front of the building. “Hang on, what’s on your face?”

“Face mask.”

“Where from?” he asked, holding the cigarette between his lips, smoke curling from his mouth with every breath he took.

“Simon.”

“Why’d he get you a mask?” He leaned forward, curiosity piqued as he shifted his weight on the hood. Simon wasn’t exactly known for being charitable, so the fact that she got a gift from him suggested he’d somehow started to warm up to her.

“So I don’t look like my, uhm, wanting picture, and I can go to places without people staring, and it helps me not pick at my cut and make it redder.” She explained, making her way over to him, grunting slightly as she climbed onto the hood beside him.

“Hey, watch the paint, short stack,” he cautioned, swearing under his breath as he offered her a steady hand to help her up, trying to keep the car's paint job intact.

“I drew on it ‘cause Flying got me markers, and we drew on my shirt, and then we drew on my shoes.” She rambled on, proudly pointing to the crude, jagged teeth sketched in white marker and the chaotic splashes of color covering her shirt and shoes.

“Flying gave you markers, huh?” Scourge replied, raising an eyebrow. “Did he sniff them at all?”

“Yeah, so?” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh, that means they’re the permanent kind.” He growled, staring ahead at the setting sun, taking another deep drag of his cigarette. The thought of her potentially ‘decorating’ his beloved jacket with those markers sent a wave of dread through him. “That’s super.”

“Revine had one of those one time,” she continued, “but she kept coughing and told us not to have any.”

“Mhm,” Scourge hummed aloofly, his attention waning.

“We’ll find them, right?” Toxic asked, grabbing his hand, immediately regaining his attention with the sudden, unexpected gesture that almost seemed to resemble… affection.

“Look, we’ll try, ok? No guarantees.” Scourge replied, pulling his hand away to discard his spent cigarette.

Toxic’s hopeful face fell somewhat as he pulled his hand away from hers. She turned her gaze to some graffiti on the wall of the neighboring building. “Revine’s light blue and a big kid hedgehog. Selene and Ren are little just like me, and Selene’s light green. But Ren’s not a hedgehog, he’s a red panda. Ren likes his hat.”

“Okay,” Scourge murmured dismissively, his gaze fixed ahead. Beneath his facade of boredom, he couldn’t stop thinking about what she did. He’d made it clear he expected her to at least mostly behave well, but never in a million years would he have expected her to try and hold his hand. After all, he still had healing wounds on his arms from her biting and scratching him nearly two weeks ago. Even still, he certainly didn’t give her any special treatment that could possibly warrant this.

Right?

Before he could become too lost in thought, his attention was grabbed by the little blue hedgehog sliding off the car with a little grunt and walking in front of him.

“We’re gonna be the king?” she asked, hopping in place eagerly.

“Well, I’m gonna be the king, princess,” Scourge corrected her, a faint wry smile spreading across his face. “But yeah, we’re gonna be royalty. Livin’ in the lap of luxury just like in the movies, kid.”

“Oh,” Toxic replied, her voice fluctuating slightly as she hopped back and forth over a crack in the asphalt. “What’s in a movie?”

“What do you mean?” Scourge asked, raising a brow as he lifted his sunglasses to his forehead.

“What happens in movies?”

“A lot of things can happen. Wait, have you ever watched a movie?” Scourge asked, his eyes widening in disbelief when she shook her head in response. “Shit, imagine that…”

“Can we see movies if we’re, uhm, royally?” She asked, walking closer to him with big, hopeful eyes.

“Well…” Scourge began hesitantly before sighing deeply, “I haven’t seen a movie since before I got locked up, so what the hell? There should be an old drive-in we can sneak into.”

“Are we gonna see a movie now?” Toxic asked with intense excitement, her little blue tail wagging behind her.

“Yeah. Get your butt in the car before I change my mind, kid,” Scourge said, pulling the keys from his jacket and unlocking the vehicle, which Toxic practically flew into with a squeal.

Driving through the bustling city, he glanced over at his sister, whose legs barely dangled over the edge of the passenger seat as she hummed along to a pop song on the radio. Scourge found himself lost in thought, contemplating whether this outing was truly a good idea. While he respected her to a degree and even promised to let her be the princess of Moebius, he was still undeniably annoyed by her. His manners were far from perfect, but she had a knack for picking arguments, talking his ear off, and demanding an endless amount of attention.

Scourge wasn’t above breaking deals with people, especially those he didn’t particularly like. If he put his mind to it, he could send her to live with another family instead of in the castle with him. With enough money and convincing, he could find a decent family for her. For the past couple of days, he’d been wrestling with the idea of living with her. Being only sixteen himself, he didn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone one as wild as her.

Toxic might renounce him as her brother for breaking his promise, and he might never see her again. But at least there’d be no uncertainty about her well-being, unlike the years they spent apart. She’d be out of his way, placed with a family instead of being stuck in a shoddy orphanage, receiving care he simply couldn’t provide.

It would be for the best.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles whitening as his jaw clenched with tension. Taking a deep nasal breath, he passed the city limits, the familiar skyline fading into the rearview mirror. For the rest of the ride, he remained silent, focused, until they arrived at the ticket booth shrouded in smoke, a strong acrid scent hanging in the air.

“What movie do you want?” asked the worker, his eyes glazed and unfocused as he leaned on the counter, blinking slowly.

“Any action movie,” Scourge replied, extending his arm out the window, cash in hand, toward the cashier, who took it slowly, peering into the dim interior of Scourge’s car.

“Wait… you look familiar,” the worker said, squinting at him with curiosity.

Shit.

Aside from the fact that he wasn't the only green hedgehog on Moebius, Scourge had been fortunate so far to avoid recognition by sticking to lower-class areas where people were more concerned with daily survival than with political figures. That luck couldn’t run out the night before he reclaimed his throne.

“I was in a soup commercial,” Scourge blurted out, internally berating himself for coming up with such a ridiculous lie afterwards

“What—” Toxic began, her face twisting in puzzlement before Scourge shot her a pointed look that silenced her.

With his jaw agape and his eyes half lidded, the employee’s face slowly broke into a crooked, gap-toothed grin.

“Oh, that’s right! Soup guy! That’s probably how you got that badass car!” he exclaimed, nodding with satisfaction.

“Yeah,” Scourge said, his head reeling back in disbelief that this excuse actually worked. “So, what’s the station for the movie?”

“Uh, 98.7,” the worker replied, glancing at a sheet in front of him. “Enjoy the movie, soup guy.”

“You too, stoned guy…” Scourge muttered under his breath as he navigated the crowded parking lot, eyes scanning for a spot where they could settle in to watch the movie.

“What’s a stone guy?” Toxic inquired.

“A guy who smokes so much weed he thinks I did a soup commercial,” Scourge scoffed, his fingers flipping through radio stations.

“Why did you do a soup commercial?” she asked, her hand fidgeting with the window controls, sliding it up and down.

“That’s not a toy. Quit messing with it,” Scourge chided, gently swatting her hand away from the buttons. “I wasn’t in a soup commercial. I said that so he wouldn’t figure out who I really was.”

“Are you, uhm, wanted?” Toxic probed, her feet wiggling as she admired the skulls Flying had drawn on the tips of her sneakers.

“Something like that,” Scourge replied, turning up the radio’s volume, the audio synced with the giant screen in front of them.

Toxic’s eyes were drawn to the screen, pupils widening with fascination as she caught sight of an advertisement featuring dancing cartoon characters.

“The movie!” she exclaimed, standing on the seat and eagerly tapping her finger against the windshield as she pointed at the screen.

“‘Ey,” Scourge snapped, “Sit down, don’t scuff up the leather.”

Groaning theatrically, she extended her ring finger toward him in defiance before flopping back into the seat, her shoulders slumped in exaggerated annoyance.

With a roll of his eyes, Scourge mimicked her groan and held up his own ring finger toward her in return. “Back at ya,” he said smugly. He then reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out some cash. “I’ll be right back with popcorn, ‘kay? Stay in the car and watch the screen.”

As he approached the snack bar, the enchanting aroma of popcorn mingled with the seemingly recurring, pungent scent of marijuana. Along with two popcorns and a couple of Anarcho-Colas, he received yet another curious look from the cashier.

“Wait, where have I seen you?” the young woman asked, her eyes bloodshot and squinting as she leaned in closer.

“Soup commercial,” Scourge answered, not missing a beat.

“Right! Brody texted us about that!” she exclaimed, grinning widely, struggling to keep her eyes open as she turned to her coworker; who was munching on a hot dog without a bun. “Marley, it’s Soup Guy! Just like Brody was talking about.”

“Man, I love soup!” Marley shouted, raising their half-eaten hot dog in a gesture that resembled a toast toward Scourge.

Honestly, Scourge found himself wanting whatever they were clearly indulging in.

“Same,” he replied with a forced smile, quickly gathering his snacks and hurrying back to the car before the conversation could continue any further.

Toxic was so engrossed in the moving pictures on the screen that even the enticing aroma of popcorn didn’t immediately catch her attention.

“Here,” Scourge said, handing one of the bags to her.

“What didja get me?” Toxic asked, peering into the bag with curiosity.

“You’ve never seen popcorn before?” Scourge replied, his cheek already stuffed with the warm, buttery treat, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Nope,” she answered, burying her face in the bag and grabbing a mouthful. Her eyes widened with amazement as she savored the taste.

“Good stuff, right?” Scourge asked, barely hiding a smile as he watched her devour the popcorn with animalistic abandon.

“Yah, ah like ih,” Toxic mumbled through her mouthful, bits of popcorn flying out with each word.

“Don’t spit popcorn all over my car, kid,” Scourge warned, taking a sip of his soda. “Movie’s about to start,” he noted as the previews came to an end. “Be quiet or we leave.”

“Why?” Toxic whispered, her voice filled with curiosity.

“That’s the rule, now shut up and watch,” he whispered, settling back into his seat as the film began.

The movie wasn’t anything spectacular. The acting was mediocre at best, and the plot was half-baked. Under normal circumstances, Scourge would say the only redeeming quality was the presence of the actress he’d had a crush on for years. However, after spending several torturous months in Zone Jail, struggling to avoid beatings, he hadn’t had the luxury to focus on whatever played on the few tiny, grainy television screens available there.

Every single day since escaping, he often had to remind himself he was safe. The bump in the night wasn’t an inmate coming to throw him around the cell like a ragdoll. He no longer had to rush through meals to prevent them from being stolen or having his face shoved in them. He didn’t have to sit on the edge of his seat, ready to flee unwanted attention. Gone were the days of the inhibitor collars, and he was finally ready to reclaim his world.

This was his first movie in a long time, and he was finally safe enough to watch it. That was enough for him to love it.

Watching his little sister giggling with delight during a particularly audacious motorcycle stunt, he was taken aback by how much he didn’t mind her presence at that moment. Her excitement reminded him of a young, once-blue hedgehog he once knew, staying up late to watch his favorite films. The nostalgia was palpable, and her enthusiasm was unexpectedly contagious. To his own surprise, he found himself whispering comments about the movie to her, chuckling at her responses, and engaging in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Not only was she not a burden, but she was genuinely enjoyable to be around.

In the film’s climax, things seemed bleak for the protagonist. Bloody and beaten, he stared down the barrel of his enemy’s gun, with death looming ominously on the horizon.

Toxic furrowed her brows in worry, her voice barely above a whisper as she chewed on the last of her popcorn. “Are they gonna die?”

“Just watch,” Scourge whispered back, a half-grin forming as he correctly anticipated the moment when the hero would rise and take down the enemy with a clever line.

Pumping her fist in the air, Toxic couldn’t contain her excitement. “Yes!”

“Legends like that don’t just die like chumps, kid,” Scourge added, his grin widening at her reaction. “Golden rule of, like, every movie.”

“He’s fucking cool ass!” she exclaimed, a soft, excited giggle escaping her as the credits soon began to roll. She reached for more of her popcorn, only to realize her bag was empty. “Gimme yours,” she demanded, her eyes darting to his unfinished bag.

With a shake of his head, Scourge dug his hand into his popcorn, nonchalantly swatting away Toxic as she desperately clawed for the bag.

“Stop, bitch!” she groaned in protest.

“Nah,” Scourge replied, chewing on a mouthful with a satisfied smirk.

“Yes!” she growled, trying to crawl over him as he pushed his hand against her forehead, leaving her scrambling in place.

“Mmm, this is mine. I love my popcorn.” He teased, savoring the last few pieces before finally releasing her, “Take my bag, short-stack.”

“Cuntsack!” Toxic shot back, slamming her fist on the seat in frustration.

“That doesn’t mean anything, you dip,” Scourge scoffed, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Yeah, it does!” she argued, crossing her arms defiantly.

“It doesn’t, idiot. Time to go.” He said, shifting the car into gear as the lights of the parking lot flickered around them.

"I wanna see more movies," she said with a defiant pout as he slowly backed their car out of the parking spot, the engine purring to life.

"We're going to the castle tomorrow," he reminded her. "Don't wanna stay out all night and be too tired for that."

"But we can watch movies at the castle with popcorn and soda, right?" she asked, her fingers fiddling with the straps of a face mask she had just pulled from her pocket, her voice carrying a hopeful lilt.

"That and more," he assured her, a smile tugging at his lips. "But first, we gotta work for it. Just like in that movie, we gotta kick some major ass before we get ours on the throne."

"Are we gonna break windows and shoot people like in the movies?" she continued, her green eyes wide with a mix of excitement and innocence.

The green hedgehog chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Something like that, for sure," he replied to his sister, before groaning as a chime sounded from the dashboard, signaling that the car was running low on gas.

"What is it, Scourge?" Toxic asked, tilting her head with curiosity, her gaze shifting between him and the fuel gauge.

"We need gas. Might as well pick up more cigarettes while we're at it," Scourge grumbled, his eyes scanning the dank, desolate streets as they rolled past, searching for a gas station.

"I want a cigarette," she proclaimed.

"I know. You want everything," he muttered under his breath, steering the car into a dingy gas station and parking by one of the pumps. "Stay here, okay?" he ordered, stepping out of the car.

After filling up the tank, Scourge made his way into the grimy little convenience store. The smell of stale grease and sweat hit him like a wave, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he spotted a rat nibbling on a slice of pizza that had been left on display. Shaking his head, he turned toward the counter, ready to ask the cashier for a pack of cigarettes.

Before he could open his mouth, a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, spinning him around with surprising force.

"I know you, fucker," a cheetah snarled in a low, menacing growl, his clothes adorned with photoluminescent accents that glowed under the dim fluorescent lights, his flashy sunglasses obscuring most of his face but not his fury.

"Yeah, I get that a lot. I was in a soup commercial," Scourge replied with a deadpan expression, showing no fear at the cheetah's aggressive stance.

"Don't fuck with me!" The cheetah roared, baring his fangs just inches from Scourge's face. "You stole my car!"

"I dunno what you're talking about," Scourge sneered, his lips curling into a smug grin.

"Oh, really?" The cheetah chuckled without humor before slamming Scourge back against a wall. "I bet you'll figure it out while you bite the curb."

"At least take me to dinner first, babe," Scourge retorted with a playful wink, his eyes flickering with twisted amusement.

"Wait a minute, Danny," another voice cut in, drawing closer. One of the cheetah's cronies, who had been lurking nearby, stepped forward, peering at Scourge with a look of surprise. "This ain't your average carjacker... shit! This is Scourge, the old king!"

"Well, he ain't king anymore, right? His ass got thrown in jail, I heard," Danny laughed, tightening his grip on Scourge's jacket. "Must not be that powerful if he's hidin' in the shadows and nabbin' cars. Still, how much do you think they'd pay to get him back behind bars?"

"Penny, lock the door," another goon ordered the cashier, who obliged, pulling out a handgun from her back pocket and flicking the safety off with a sinister smile.

Before Scourge could come up with a snarky comeback, the unmistakable click of a phone camera went off somewhere beside him.

It was getting late. He glanced at the clock on the wall. 9:32 PM. They had to wrap this up quickly.

"Yeah, so, that won't do," he muttered before launching into action. With a sudden burst of speed, he delivered a rapid one-two punch to both sides of Danny's face, stunning him and loosening his grip. Seizing the moment, Scourge kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him crashing into a shelf stocked with candy. As Penny fired a shot, Scourge blurred out of the way with his supersonic speed, dodging the bullets effortlessly.

"Get my good side while you're at it," he quipped, appearing beside the person who had taken the photo. Snatching the phone from their grip, he took a quick selfie with a perky grin before slamming the phone down hard against a shelf; the screen shattering on impact. Before they could react, he swiftly snapped their neck, their body crumpling to the floor.

With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the broken phone at Penny, striking her square in the forehead and causing her to drop the gun. Vulnerable and disoriented, she was left wide open for Scourge's next move. In a flash, he closed the distance and stomped down on her skull with a brutal force, her body going limp instantly.

"You fucking—" the last crony screamed in terror, but his cry was cut short as Scourge aimed the now-recovered handgun and fired. The back of the crony's skull burst open in a bloody display, brains splattering against the wall behind him.

"Yeah, that's sweet of you," Scourge said with a gleeful grin, lowering the smoking pistol. His gaze then turned to a dazed Danny. "C'mon, pookie. I saved the best for last."

"Muh... Nuh..." Danny mumbled weakly as Scourge grabbed him by the back of his jacket, kicked the door open, and forced him to press his mouth against the edge of the curb outside. Without a moment's hesitation, Scourge stomped down hard on the back of Danny's head, a sickening crunch echoing through the night as blood and teeth splattered across the concrete.

Scourge couldn't help but laugh. These jokers thought they could take on the hedgehog who once, and soon would again, rule over Moebius. The sheer arrogance of their challenge made the victory even sweeter.

He glanced at the clock again. 9:33 PM.

Lost in the rush of adrenaline, Scourge almost didn't notice Toxic sitting just a few feet away, perched atop a faded truck kiddie ride. Her jaw hung open beneath her mask, her wide eyes filled with a mix of awe and morbid fascination.

"I thought I told ya to stay in the car," Scourge said, slightly exasperated. He was surprised such a dumb kid had figured out how to unlock the door.

"I'm in this car," Toxic countered with a nonchalant shrug.

Scourge clenched his jaw, a sigh escaping his lips as he nodded in reluctant acceptance. His eyes caught sight of a coin near Danny's limp leg.

"Sit tight for a sec," he instructed, slipping the coin into the ride's slot. The kiddie ride sputtered to life, playing a grainy rock and roll tune and jerking with clunky engine sounds.

Stepping over the mess of bodies and debris, Scourge made sure to destroy anything that might have recorded the scene. Afterward, he grabbed a few packs of cigarettes, a beer, and some cash from the register. Before leaving, he noticed a stuffed cheetah toy on display, its big eyes and innocent smile staring back at him. The irony made him chuckle, and he decided to take it with him. Motioning for Toxic to follow, he led her back to the car.

"Why did they fight you?" Toxic asked, hopping alongside him, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"The cheetah guy got mad at me for stealing his car. He and his buddies were gonna get me thrown in jail, so l killed them all," he replied casually, opening the car door.

"Oh," she responded simply, satisfied with his blunt explanation as she climbed in on her side.

"Here," Scourge said, handing her the stuffed cheetah. "That's your reminder not to let anyone mess with you. If someone gives you trouble, show 'em who's boss."

Toxic's eyes widened as she stared at the soft toy in her hands. For a moment, she was speechless. She glanced up at her brother, a mix of surprise and something else-almost like admiration.

It wasn't every day Scourge showed such a gesture. Was it the adrenaline that had him feeling generous? Or perhaps some hidden guilt, knowing she'd soon be placed with another family? Maybe, just maybe, he was warming up to her.

He cranked up the radio to drown out his thoughts, not noticing the way she kept staring at him. Eventually, she broke the silence, her voice tentative. "Do we have the same mama and daddy?"

Scourge's stomach twisted into knots. He knew where this was headed.

"Yep," he replied tersely.

"But where are they at?" she asked, her voice growing softer, more childlike.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Scourge's jaw clenched as he tried to find the right words.

"They're dead, Toxic," he finally said, his tone darkening.

Toxic's face fell, her body turning toward him, eyes locked on his. "But how could they, uhm, die?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The air felt sucked from Scourge's lungs. His mind raced for a lie, but nothing came to him. He was trapped in the truth. His palms were sweaty, his grip on the wheel unyielding as he forced himself to continue.

"Dad... h-he..." Scourge stammered, wiping the sweat from his brow, "he was a piece of shit, Toxic. We got in a fight, and he died."

Toxic tensed up, clutching the cheetah tightly in her small hands. "Did you, uhm, have a fight with our mama like you had a fight with daddy?" she asked, her voice small, nearly breaking.

"No!" Scourge barked instantly. "Mom was good! I'd never fight her!" He took a deep, steadying breath, staring out at the blur of passing cars. "Mom... she... took her own life," he added, his voice heavy with regret.

Furrowing her brows in a mix of sadness and disbelief, Toxic shook her head and asked, “but why?”

Scourge's mouth went dry. He'd asked himself that same question for years.

Why had she left him and Toxic behind with that monster? After that day, his life had spiraled down a twisted path he couldn't escape, molding him into the hardened criminal he was now.

Should he have done more to help her?

He felt an odd combination of resentment and guilt, hating himself for being angry at her choice. She had been his only real light for years, even in death.

He didn't know who to blame-his mother, himself, his father, an invisible illness, or even his sister, whose birth might have driven his mother over the edge with postpartum depression.

Years had passed, but deep down, he still felt like that lost, scared twelve-year-old kid he once knew.

"Scourge?" Toxic whimpered, reaching out for his arm, her voice quivering with a need for comfort.

"I don't want to talk about this shit anymore, Toxic!" Scourge snapped, his voice sharp and pained. "Just... shut the fuck up and listen to music or something!" he roared, slamming his fist against the steering wheel with a burst of frustration.

Hugging the stuffed cheetah closer, Toxic remained silent for the rest of the ride, the radio's music filling the tense, uneasy quiet between them.

Back at the orphanage, they were greeted by Flying, who was waiting with a lantern held high, his wide eyes glimmering with excitement.

"There you hedgie-wedgies are!" he exclaimed, dropping to Toxic's height with a playful grin. "Where have ya lid-squid-kids been!? Did you make a new little friend, Toxic little girl? Can I eat him?"

Uncharacteristically quiet, Toxic kept her gaze down, saying nothing as she grabbed a lantern and hurried off to the area where she usually slept.

"Say, what's the big idea?" Flying asked, scratching his head, bewildered by the sudden shift in her demeanor.

"She's tired, and I need a cigarette," Scourge replied coolly, turning on his heel to head back toward his car, only to be stopped by Flying once more.

"Yanno, you two are actin' fishier than a pond-wand-blonde!" Flying said, his head tilted, arms crossed as he studied Scourge from head to toe. "And I'm not talkin' about that pretty blood on your shoes!"

"I'll clean it in a bit, okay? Fuck off," Scourge grumbled, pushing past him and returning to the car's front seat. He lit a cigarette with almost frantic urgency, desperate for the calming burn in his lungs.

His mind raced, teeming with chaos and torment. Every so often, he'd lash out, slamming his fist against the dashboard or the seat beside him, shouting out a random obscenity. By the time he'd made it through nearly an entire pack, exhaustion finally washed over him, pulling him into sleep right there in the car.

The night before the Destructix would storm the castle was full of tension, but not just for them.

After spending the day resting and regaining her strength, McKenna stood in the castle's vast training arena, bracing herself for the tests that awaited. The room was expansive and intimidating, filled with workout equipment, targets, and combat robots designed for practice. Today, her training wasn't just about physical prowess; she was also testing her ability to see an attacker before they appeared, and her skill with different kinds of combative and defensive magic.

All stops had been pulled out tonight. She'd even been given a new outfit: a sleek, bulletproof bodysuit, her boots were designed to silence her footsteps, and her arms and legs were covered in a protective lycra-adjacent fabric. She was dressed in all black, allowing her to blend in with shadows. Strapped to her thigh was a dagger, her only non-magical weapon aside from her fists and feet.

Physically, she was prepared, but her mind was another matter entirely.

While resting earlier, she'd had a strange dream. She was back in the forest that haunted her memories, but someone had intruded and started a fire. The act sparked a fury in her unlike anything she'd ever felt. Who dared to harm her sanctuary? It was her territory, and no one was allowed to defile it. She wanted to hunt down the culprit, to make them pay violently for their audacity.

The raw, unfiltered rage was a new sensation, and it terrified her.

"My dear, you aren't still worried about your dream, are you?" Stellaria's voice broke through her thoughts, drawing her back to the present.

"Mother... I've never felt like this before," McKenna confessed, her face creased with concern. "I don't want to be a monster."

"Why, you are no monster," Stellaria soothed, her voice carrying a maternal calm. "I can tell you with certainty the dream does carry a message. But if you follow it, all will be well. Think of this castle as the forest, and the arsonist as someone who wishes to bring harm to those within. I've equipped you with the tools to protect us, and I know you won't fall short."

The tension in McKenna's face eased, a faint smile spreading across her lips.

"Thank you, Mother. I love you," she said, straightening her posture with renewed confidence.

"I love you too, my dear," Stellaria replied, her hand gently caressing McKenna's cheek as she leaned in close, her smile warm and reassuring. "Be ready."

From a separate room, Stellaria watched her daughter meditate for a moment before speaking into the microphone that fed into the arena's speakers.

"Now, begin."

[boomstyle]

Distant Twin (sneak peek)

Anti Mobius Sonic (later Scourge the hedgehog) has just escaped twice from No zone prison after Zonic rearrested him for stealing spare parts of giant borg (sonic super special issue 10) and vandalizing the wall "Sonic is here" in the dimension of Litigopolis where J.U.D.G.E. ruled (sonic super special issue 14). Unhearthened by his Anti boom counterpart and Anti St John, Anti Mobius Sonic returned to his dimension, overthrow Anti Sally and kicked out St John. Anti Freedom fighters weren't willing for his return but at least its better than under Anti St John. At this point, they are running out of ideas since they lose against Freedom Figther and Anti Boom Team Sonic. Hence, Anti Sally suggested that they invade Mirror Boom world, Alternate boom world and Sonic boom world as they are weaker dimension. Plus, the border between Sonic Boom world and Anti Sonic boom world is less guarded. Hence, Anti Freedom Fighter managed to invade Mirror Boom world and Alternate Boom world. As Anti Freedom fighter reached Sonic Boom world, they defeated Team Sonic easily even go as far as strangling the leader. All hope was lost until Team Sonic's villain counterpart from Anti Boom dimension defeated Anti Freedom Figther. Zonic arrested Anti Mobius Sonic to zone cop again however give strict warning to other member of Anti Freedom Figther and confiscated their weapons for 2 months. Afterward, Zonic legalized the Anti Boom dimension invasion of Anti Green Hills as reward for helping Sonic Boom world after all Anti Green Hills zone is always part of Anti Boom dimension. However, Zonic knows the main reason Anti Boom Team Sonic helped its non antiverse counterpart is to prevent Scourge from taking over his dimension.

Timelapse

[centravolonial]

astro's astronomical drabbles (2/?)

-. love bruise .- a bughead drabble

--- Jughead's eyes flutter open as his face twists up and he raises a hand to his face, rubbing his palm across his eyes. “Mmh..” Jug slowly raises himself up to a sit, looking around the room around him, soon realizing Betty is standing in front of the mirror in an oversized shirt and underwear, pulling her hand back to get a clearer look at her neck. “Jug?” She turned around to look at him, and she carried a slightly worried expression. “Hm.” He blinks, groggily responding to her. “Look!” She then hurries over to the side of the bed, showing him the deep purple hickey on her neck. “Oh. Did I do that?” Jug crooks a brow, holding back a mocking smirk as he hovers a hand over the ivory-skinned girl's neck, that has been love bruised. ---