#hmm... maybe after cranium comes out

[purrpickle]

Daily reminder that I am still unapologetically in love with GAP the Series and The Loyal Pin and the amazing characters they gave us.

[roswelldetails]

RNM 2x06 - Sex and Candy

EPISODE SUMMARY:

Maria’s (Heather Hemmens) investigation into her mother’s disappearance leads her and Alex (Tyler Blackburn) to the home of a mysterious boot maker named Travis (guest star David Anders). Meanwhile, on her journey of self-discovery, Isobel’s (Lily Cowles) night out leads her into the arms of someone unexpected. Finally, after making some major scientific strides, Liz (Jeanine Mason) is dealt a devastating blow. Geoff Shotz directed the episode written by Rick Montano & Vincent Ingrao (#206). Original airdate 4/20/2020.

DETAILS:

Max and Isobel's fight:

Lights start flickering when Max starts getting aggressive and then get brighter as he gets more worked up.

The first attempt to expel it seemed like he was causing an earthquake.  He blew out all the windows in the gym, knocked Isobel down, and there was shaking.  But it didn't seem to go beyond that room - no damage is seen when Michael arrives or around town.

Note, after the earthquake thingie the lights go out 

His hands are doing the electric power thingie and THEN he also grabs the lightning.

I think Isobel used her telekinesis to stop it and then push it away, which seemed to work...but if so then why couldn't Noah do that last season? 

Was it the sheer volume of electricity? There was definitely MORE than with Noah.

Michael uses his telekinesis to manually reset Max's heart.  This is very smart of him. Note that he's using his own heart/pulse to get it right.

They are using the antidote to Liz's serum to try to heal Max's mind. 

Michael says that they've been giving him antidote injections for three days (time jump).

Three days of antidote and no new memories for Max.

Isobel remembered her blackouts within a few hours of getting injected with the antidote in 1x10.

Note: Liz hesitated using the antidote this way in 1x10 because Isobel could still be dangerous and they didn't know about the 4th Alien yet.  There doesn't seem to be a similar hesitation with Max. Because Liz trusts him more? Because him forgetting her is more personal? It's not like there isn't a chance that Max is still dangerous…

Maria arranged a Mexican market in the Pony parking lot to subsidize her income.

Buffy the Beagle is Forrest's dog!

Maria comments that the meteor shower makes animals act strange. And humans too.

Forrest and Maria are organizing an open night mic at the Wild Pony.  Free drinks for performers.

Maria clearly approves of Forrest and Alex getting to know each other.  She smacks Alex for his awkward flirting.

The bootmaker's farm is about an hour outside of town.

The Science:

Kyle and Steph are watching a "surgical separation of craniopagus twins".

Craniopagus Twins = twins attached at the cranium/head. (Aka not a heart surgery).

"Did you know, ever since 1947, twin births in Roswell are higher than the national average? Maybe it's aliens."

Speaking of awkward flirting…. "You're just my favorite person I can't stand."

The Spanish:

Le cambio una bolsa de chiles para mi papá...for the free fries next time you come to the Crashdown.

Liz is bartering.  She says basically, I'll trade you a bag of chiles for my papa for free fries next time you come to the Crashdown. 

Note, the captions for this are wrong and use the Spanish word for grasshoppers instead, but you can clearly hear Liz say chiles. Thanks to @rosaortecho for pointing that out to me.

Max says:

I'm trying to eat clean. Uh, tiene carne seca sin como se dice, preservativos.

He's trying to say, basically, does the jerky have preservatives. 

Quiere carne a sin preservativos?

Basically, you want meat without condoms?

Lo siento. Uh, no lo entiendo.

I'm sorry, I don't get it.

Él quiere decir conservantes.

He means preservatives.

Gracias. Estoy embarazado.

Thank you. I'm pregnant.

Michael asks Max who he's texting. Max says everyone has been messaging him but Cameron is the only one who hasn't responded, which isn't like her.

Wildly curious who he was texting though.  It's not like he's a social butterfly. His mom? The sheriff? Who? As I pointed out to some friends the other day, he spent his 21st birthday getting trashed with his SISTER. This is not a trait of a guy with lots of close friends.

Just as another note, Michael says he ghosted her. When exactly was that? Yes, Max ran out on her in the middle of a handy in 1x03, but they addressed that the next day.  She "broke up" with him in 1x07, but they were still good right up until she left town. 

Isobel:

"Does he seem different to you?"

Alex and Maria playing "Never have I Ever" in the car. Good way to do background on characters.

Maria has never cheated on a boyfriend

Alex has never been in a real relationship. Not even "Kellie Sommer-something".

Alex says that whenever he was with a woman he was trying to disappear.  Except for Sophomore year after Battle of the Bands. Seven Minutes in Heaven in Haley Moore's hall closet. Alex and Maria kissed and it was Maria's first kiss (and boob graze).  She always thought she'd marry Alex. Had to come up with a new plan after he came out. 

Alex says "I did too."

"Kissing you in that closet was the first time in my life that I enjoyed touching someone."

Max picks up Liz for their first date…

Just as a note, Save Tonight was the opening song in the pilot of OG Roswell. During the "oh, Max Evans is staring at you again." exchange between Liz and Maria.  So, it might go well with new beginnings or something ;-)

The Science:

"Psychogenic amnesia limits retrieval of stored memories, but if we light up your limbic system and gustatory cortex with some familiar signals…"

"Your milkshake might bring all my memories to the yard?"

**Note, second reference to this song in the context of Liz bringing Max milkshakes. First was in 1x06 by Isobel. Hmm. 1x06 and 2x06… maybe they should crack this joke in 3x06 too.

"Sometimes when people wake up from comas they have different personalities, different tastes even…"

Everything you ever wanted to know about psychogenic amnesia:

But, my main takeaway is that it's a specific type of amnesia where there's abnormal memory function but no brain damage or other clear cause of it.

Limbic system:

Basically the part of your brain that stores emotion, behavior, and long term memory.

Gustatory cortex:

Basically the part of your brain that processes taste.

Maria compares Michael to Chad because he starts fights and lies.  Alex disagrees and lists ways that he was doing good things:

He lied to protect his family from Alex's family.

He shouldered the burden of a murder he didn't commit for ten years so that Isobel didn't have to.

He pushed Maria away to protect her - which might be a good thing too because of all his baggage. 

First Date:

Max went to Ranch camp one summer and dislocated his shoulder while trying to read Lord of the Rings on horseback. #nerd. 

Liz references the gala as not their first date, but there was also the desert in high school.  I guess she doesn't count that either. 

Side note: Cam and Liz talked about him peacocking in 2x03, but that kinda felt out of character at the time to the Max we knew.  This Max DOES seem like he's peacocking a bit. Got dressed up, taking Liz horseback riding. He admitted to trying to one up whatever they did together before. Just an interesting (to me) observation.

Liz looks panicky when Max suggests truth serum (because Science!Liz probably could make truth serum), but once she realizes he means whiskey she's like, "oh yes, that's fine." Oh Liz… 

Diego details:

They were engaged just last year

Liz left without saying goodbye

Bioengineer 

They were working together on the Denver study

They would come home and keep talking about work

He had ideas to help improve it

They both spoke The Science

He pushed her to get better at The Science

When the funding was cut she realized she loved the work more than him

Liz couldn't figure out how tell him that so she packed her things in the middle of the night, hit the road, changed her phone, and blocked him on Facebook.

**This is the first time LIZ has mentioned social media. Interesting given the crap Maria keeps giving her about it!

Travis and fresh warm milk. What is up with it??

"Nice ring. Does it keep you from burning up in the daylight?"

David Anders introduces himself as Travis.

Just as a point of interest, Maria researched enough to find the bootmaker, figure out where he lives, but she didn't get his name??? 

Vampire Diaries/Originals reference.

Travis says he can't help with car stuff.

The milk was from a cow named Jennifer.  He milked her for the last time today. (Creepy).

Weird contradictory statements from Travis:

"You're the best thing I've seen in a long time."....

"Mm, I'm sorry. So many customers and all their ugly faces get all sewn up and stitched together in my mind."

"Yeah, that's the woman that bought them boots. While back. Nice lady. She paid cash."

Second reference to animals behaving strangely during a meteor shower:

"Meteor shower's got my girls singing a bit off key tonight.  Jennifer, she likes a good lullaby."

"Okay this guy is going to turn us into skin suits." (OG reference? Or just general sci-fi?)

Meteorchella at Planet 7 (Coachella-style party during meteor shower?) with any excuse to add sparkles!

Kyle says he's at Planet 7 because he's trying not to hang out with people from high school.

Isobel says she's trying to have fun without feeling like prey.

Don't think the details of Kyle/Isobel dancing matters all that much, but as a point of amusement I'll share that in the panel on Tuesday night they shared that Lily whispered something different to Trevino on every take...And they got progressively dirtier to the point that she finally felt like she crossed a line and profusely apologized.  Also the lick was a Lily addition. 

Max's confession about killing the drifter:

Kind of an interesting thing, comparing the first version of the drifter story in 1x06 to the 2x06 version. 1x06 was more dramatic, but 2x06 was more personal, I think. 

1x06

"There are moments that define our lives, and there are moments that divide our lives. Incidents that separate us into two different people: who we were before and who we will be after. Forever…One day we were children and the next we were something else. I was a killer. Michael an accomplice.  And Isobel...Isobel was broken."

2x06

"I killed a man once, on a camping trip. This drifter came out of nowhere, attacked Isobel.  I wasn't even thinking. I killed him. With this. I arrest people who kill people. Most of them usually regret what they did. You know, you can just tell that they're forever broken. It's like a piece of them dies with their victims. So when I could feel that darkness, like I had to kill, I wanted Isobel to let me die. Because I couldn't risk hurting even one innocent person. Cause life just wouldn't be worth living."

Kind of an interesting narrative choice to confess to murder on a first date and then have the girl just brush it aside. 

"No, it just hit me why you're so happy and idealistic, and I feel like an idiot. You are that way because you don't remember me. It's a clean slate.  It's like when you got out of the pods with whatever memories you had erased it's probably for your own good."

"Last I heard you were the love of my life."

"Your cohorts, they left out some details. Cause if you had your memories I'm positive the worst thing that's ever happened to you is connected to me. And I can't bear the weight of making you remember that again."

**Note, second time this has been implied.  Last time was by Michael in 1x08 regarding the alien symbol.

"...it's gotta have some connection to us right? Maybe it was something we saw somewhere before the crash."

"Sorry, are you, Max Evans, acknowledging that we must have had lives before we hatched out of the pods? You never want to talk about home."

"Hey, Roswell is home. Look, I'm sorry man. You're right. I've spent a lot of time not talking about where we come from or why we're here.  Keep thinking I can pretend the past away and just be normal. But if Isobel's blackouts are some alien thing, then I need to know more. Okay, and this symbol? That's all I have to go on. I mean don't you think it's strange that we don't have any memories? I mean, no parents, no language. We weren't infants, man. We were seven."

"I just figured our memory faded. Over 50 years in those pods. Maybe it was just time. Or maybe whoever put us in those pods doesn't want us to remember."

Travis and Trevor's house...with added bonus of his ring that Alex comments on.

Leather ribbons/strips on the wall are for (from?) Hayley and Gertrude. More cows, I presume. 

There's also a framed Purple Heart on the wall next to a photo of Travis?

"War really messes with a man's mind.  Gets it all twisted up.

Timeline issue!! Alex says Mimi was missing for 3 weeks, but according to the clearly established timelines in 201-203 it was 4 weeks (or a month ish).  I wrote about this here:

Maria put her jacket on a scarecrow to trick Travis. And did she leave it there?

(Answer: yes. She doesn't wear it for the rest of the episode. Smart of her, actually).

Michael sees Trevor come out of the house and is about to shoot him. Maria immediate knew it wasn't Travis and threw herself in front of Michael's gun

Trevor shoots Travis.

A bullet from the Crashdown shooting falls out of Max's journal.  Does it look like it has blood on it? Or maybe just ketchup? If it's THE bullet it would make a lot of sense that he kept it hidden - evidence that Liz was shot. See this comparison between one of Wyatt's bullets in 1x02 and the one Max finds in 2x06

"Sorry about my twin here. He's had a rough go."

"Combat does not make you an axe murderer."

"No, it wasn't the combat. It was the R&D. If a paramilitary group ever asks you to take part in a study, you run the other way. He showed up a few weeks ago. Locked me up out back. Lucky y'all showed up when you did. Gave me a chance to escape."

R&D is a military acronym for Research and Development. (Aka...The Science.)

Priscilla - the cow Mimi's boots were made from.

This is literally the only direct information gained about the boots from this little sleuthing excursion. 

Well, and that Mimi paid cash, which isn't like her.

Side note - I didn't really know what Paramilitary meant, so just in case any of you are also not good with military stuff, Paramilitary groups are like private armies. Like, I dunno, the private security firm that Jesse and Cam discussed in episode 2x04. 👀

Male doctor operating on Steph clearly states:

"All right we're approaching an arterial junction."

A female doctor replies and its less clear.  What I hear is...Blood gasses are back? Anyone else hear something that makes more sense than that?

He replied something like...the stint through here

She says something about pH levels.

Max admits that he didn't know what would happen when he decided to bring Rosa back.  He just wanted to fix the worst thing that ever happened to all of them.

"I can't believe we were Shyamalan'd by an evil twin."

I think Alex is referring to the twist ending? Or maybe just the insane axe murderer stuff.

M. Night Shyamalan wrote and directed the Sixth Sense, Signs, Split, etc…

During this scene is the first time we see Michael's tattoo… it's on his arm. I struggled with getting a cap of it, but I know there are gifs going around.

I had every intention of detailing the dialogue in the trailer scene, but before I could get to it, Carina posted the script, so I didn't think it was a good use of my time. Here's the script:

The next morning, Alex calls the Sheriff from outside the trailer for an update.

The Sheriff tells him that Travis and Trevor burned their home and ran...weren't caught by the sheriff.  Which means we may not have seen the last of them.

The Spanish:

"Oh my God. Dios mio, Max. I took off your pants before I even said I love you. I'm some kind of zorra."

Dios mio basically is Oh My God! So Liz really was spiraling. She went, "Oh my God, Oh my God..."

Zorra - female version of Zorro. Basically a vixen, bitch, prostitute… the internet has all sorts of fun words that it translates into. 

"I call this one Visceral Werewolf Part 2, dedicated to my boy Chee Chee, may he rest in peace."

Can we have more Bert? Bert is the best. Also kudos to his goofy friend who is wayyy too excited about this.

Forrest's slam poem:

Locked up for days,

Time slipping away,

On my knees I would pray to break free from this cage.

But bargaining for keys, you forget hidden fees.

And wishing for what you’re missing ain’t the same as living the dream. 

And now I’m fighting to stay on this side of the cage.

Even though I know a part of me wishes I’d stayed. 

Ain’t no prophet or rebel or savior or devil

Could have predicted, fought, cheated or leveled. 

A life with potential that’s squandered, 

A comfortable cell is a question I ponder. 

Am I a free man or a prisoner wanderer?

Max's memory flash:

Young Max, chained to the ground as described in 2x03. 

Max looks scared.

He's dressed all in white like the 1947 aliens after the crash (As shown in 1x12 and 2x03).

He's in a cave or something like a cave. 

Holes in the wall are glowing an orangey red color.

The ceiling is like the alien ship material with the alien symbol in it.  

A figure approaches from behind him, bends down, and places a hand on his shoulder.

It mirrors the figure approaching Nora in 2x03 and touching her shoulder before burning the military men...probably the same person? Noah? The stowaway? Someone new?

After the figure touches Max, he looks at the hand, and then a red glow lights his face.

MUSIC:

1. Xocoyotzin Herrera "Esperanza"

2. Jose Luis Lepe "La Carreta"

3. Eagle Eye Cherry "Save Tonight"

4. Lousiana Red "I Done Woke Up"

5. Whissell "Magnetic"

6. Stop Dead "Alchemistress Dance"

7.  Orville Peck "Turn To Hate"

8. Kim Petras "Close Your Eyes"

9. Orville Peck "Queen Of The Rodeo"

10. Moontricks "The Fall"

11. Years & Years "Hypnotised"

12. Jordan Critz Feat. Birdtalker "Through Your Eyes"

This time I couldn't find the Whissell and Stop Dead tracks on spotify - however the Stop Dead track is referenced at being by Chelsea Dawn in the closed captions.  Which I did find. Trying to confirm this. Let me know if anyone else had better luck!

[crusherthedoctor]

In the Hall of the Would Be King

“Hmm...”

“No, that won't work...”

“Too similar...”

“Not using another brainless monster, not without a catch...”

“If I can find another Conch... Nah...”

“I could just steal the Master Emerald again...”

"Maybe I can use Metal's copied data samples for something...”

"Refine the Slow-Down Shoes perhaps...?”

In his newest lab, surrounded by faint darkness, the aspiring conquerer was hard at work on a new plan to ensure his domination... or at least, he would be hard at work, if he didn't have schemer's block. Though the doctor had many ideas circling around in his head, he dismissed each of them for one reason or another, having taken their chances of working out - or lack thereof - into account. Needless to say, he was not in the cheeriest of mindsets as a result.

“Maybe a virus would do the trick, I haven't tried that sort of method before...” Eggman mused to himself, tapping his pencil idly against the desk where his currently empty sheets of paper were positioned. Normally his papers would be used up with elaborate thoughts and schematics, but this was not the case today. Not a single bullet point or diagram could be found on any of them. He frowned as he stroked his chin in thought. “But such a thing would take ages to prepare, and it could easily escape my control if I'm not careful... bah...”

He lightly tossed his pencil aside, and he slumped on his chair, his wide moustache drooping just a little. He hated it when his imagination came to a road block. Not just because it meant he couldn't be productive with his time and brainwaves, but also because it would pave the way instead for more time to reflect on... him.

He tiredly rubbed his hairless cranium at the mere thought of that meddlesome hedgehog, the one who had thwarted his expertly devised plans, and his immaculately constructed machines, every single time, for what felt like generations. Everything about that hedgehog bothered him to no end. His ridiculous face, his endless taunting, his undeserved luck... How he loathed him so... And how he loathed those irritating theories spread about how he secretly liked him and would regret defeating him for good.

Absolute nonsense, he thought, with a loud bristle of his 'stache. Far as he's concerned, any respect towards the hedgehog is purely on an academic level, directed towards his power and the admittedly entertaining challenge he brings. On a personal level, he wants nothing less than to see his cocky mug six feet under at the bottom of the ocean, and that will never change one iota. He may like his fun, but he's always been serious about obtaining his empire. Why would he go out of his way to postpone his own victory?

“Confound that Sonic,” Eggman quietly muttered, a sneer visibly planting itself on his face. “No matter what I whip up, the conclusion remains the same. How does he always win? What is it I'm missing...? What miscalculation...”

True, he had underestimated his nemesis a couple of times in the past, and the same applied to the hedgehog's increasing number of colorful aquaintances. But he's gotten wiser over time, on top of his already established scientific brilliance, so why did Sonic remain the eternal victor even now?

The doctor scoffed, as he crossed his arms in a muted huff. Surely it couldn't be because of all those friends the hedgehog had. Not when half of his victories were on his own. Not when Eggman himself had far more resources than all of them combined. Not when half the time, Knuckles was on his side, although to be fair, that trick stopped working quite a while ago. And yet... Sonic does always go on about how friendship is everything to him... That's why he's always spouting drivel about teamwork, right?

Maybe the argument of strength in comrades had some degree of logic to it, even if only a little. Sonic's closest sidekick does share a similarly impressive IQ, though still considerably below the doctor's own, in his generous and humble opinion. Since he entered the scene, Tails had always been making planes, ships, and all other sorts of technological doodads, and though they would rarely rival the sheer scale of Eggman's own contraptions, the fox boy's expertise in his own right could not be denied. Though he despised the fox just as much as he did the fox's idol, Eggman could admit that with Tails, he would always be guaranteed an intellectual back and forth. More than can be said for Sonic, who preferred to speak in outdated catchphrases that he could never comprehend the utter inanity of.

Eggman's sneer loosened, as he contemplated further, though it didn't disappear entirely. His biggest dream had always been to be recognised as the best and most beloved genius there ever was. Yet for all his efforts, everyone feared and hated him, because what, he fires a missile at the occasional city? He corrupts the occasional alien species into violent monsters? He pays the occasional media to publicly slander the hedgehog and his friends? Meanwhile, that loathesome piñata of spines was always the one who gained everyone's love and respect with minimum effort... the love and respect that belonged to him.

Why couldn't anyone on this entire globe see that he should be the one everyone should idolize. That he should be the one everyone should parade around like a reclaimed treasure. That he should be the one everyone wants to be friends with-

“How's the plan coming along, doc?”

“BUZZ OFF.”

“Alright then, see ya,” Cubot casually mumbled with a salute, as he left the room as quickly as he entered it.

He turned his head back to his empty papers, very much agitated. His mood was always at its worst when Sonic was on the brain, to the surprise of few. So what if Sonic was the world's fastest thing alive? Eggman was the world's greatest scientist alive. Making new innovations and paving the way for a better future (from a certain point of view) was far more worthy of high esteem than simply running around with your arms outstretched like an airplane. Stupid animal, wrecking apart his glorious monuments of technology like they're nothing.

Still, what monuments of technology they were...

He thought back to when he created the Egg Dragoon, and how he and Sonic - in an alternate and frankly bizarre form - duked it out towards the heart of the world. Despite the outcome being the same as most of their battles, he looked back fondly on the memory, if only because he remained proud of that particular creation in spite of its untimely demise. Why wouldn't he? It had more weapons than you could shake a ring at, its design was awe-inspiring without compromising its practical purposes, AND it could withstand the extreme temperatures of the planet's core with no issue whatsoever. It was one of his biggest breakthroughs, and this was a man who considered everything he ever made a breakthrough.

Well, almost everything. The Egg Dealer was made on an off day.

His lips curled into a smile, and he rested his legs on his desk, crossing them after the fact. As he clasped his hands by his rotund chest, he lifted his mood back up as his thoughts shifted from his enemy to his achievements. He was so delighted to finally bring Eggmanland to life that same day. He never quite decided on what exactly he wanted it to be as the years went by - one day it would be a city, the next day it would be a theme park - but when it finally went under construction, he was more than happy with the results by jamming all his ideas for it together. Sonic may have ultimately conquered it, but at least he got to see his much longed paradise in the metallic flesh for a brief moment... and it certainly wasn't an easy endeavor for the accursed pincushion regardless. He made sure of that much.

The Death Egg was another one he always had a soft spot for, no matter how many times Sonic sent it plummeting. It was the doctor's first project of such a scale, and its design remained emblematic of everything the mad scientist stood for... himself, and nothing else. Simplicity can do just fine sometimes. He laughed merrily as he recalled all his additional Death Eggs, and all his additional spacecraft that might as well have been the Death Egg, like the Cosmic Angel, and the Egg Utopia. He always did like the view from space... mainly because he got to look over what he considered his kingdom.

Sonic always questioned how he constantly had the money to make all his material, particularly his intimidating doomsday devices, and his consistently oversized fortresses. Alas, that would remain his secret. But who said he was shortsighted enough to only have a single means of obtaining his investments...? For all his childish habits, he was remarkably shrewd when it came to maintaining his finances. He would certainly hope so, that's for sure. What sight would be more embarrassing than a revolutionary without a penny?

And of course, there was Metal Sonic. Still one of his finest inventions to date, and track record of defeats aside, time and advancements have only reaffirmed that in a way. He remembered how unashamedly excited he was when he first witnessed his prized subject in action, particularly after witnessing its raw speed, having realised he had successfully created something that would give even its flesh and blood copy a run for his money in the very field he prided himself on. There was a reason that whereas other models and units came and went, Metal always remained by his side. He was undoubtedly a special robot to Eggman, and questionable though it may be, he eventually grew to see Metal as something of a son... Ironic, given who he was based on.

In fact, in retrospect, Eggman couldn't even bring himself to reflect that angrily on the Egg Fleet takeover, for as utterly humiliating as the experience was for him at the time, it at least validated the genius of Metal's programming, and how it brought the copycat's power to new heights.

Not sure what his appearance was going for at the time, though. That was a bit too tacky even for him to stomach. And you know, a betrayal's a betrayal, so he still had to be taught a lesson. He was only slightly more forgiving when it turned out that Metal had simply overloaded with all that power, as opposed to him actively calculating to upstage his master. He made sure that wouldn't happen again if the robot underwent any future upgrades... both the overloading and the poor fashion sense.

Even so, Metal was a testament to artificial intelligence, and a pinnacle of robotics. The doctor leaned back on his chair once more, cackling some more, followed by a sigh of satisfaction. He's made so many great things over the years, hasn't he? Of course he has. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be Ivo Robotnik, would he?

Suddenly, he paused, as his own surname flashed through his mind.

And with that soon came the memory of a different Robotnik altogether. That being, of course, his long departed grandfather.

His face quickly changed once again, this time neither happy nor angry.

Instead... there was conflict.

Once upon a time, he had nothing but praise for the memory of Gerald Robotnik, citing him as the inspiration to try his own hand at the world of science in the first place. Bloodline aside, perhaps it was no coincidence that they looked so strikingly alike. As a kid, he never actually saw Gerald in person, as the latter's occupation meant he was constantly hard at work on the latest concept that would revolutionize the world. Even so, he knew how amazing he was, and he admired all the intellectual prowess that he showed in his lifetime, even if he didn't particularly care for the whole "benefit of mankind" side of it.

But after that incident aboard the A.R.K... his thoughts weren't quite the same since then. He hated having to team up with that wretched hedgehog in order to ensure he had a world to conquer, as the one thing a genius like him hates more than even Sonic is having no control over anything. But his resentment over the incident went deeper than that. He still admired Gerald's intelligence, and still pointed to it as what led to the man that he is today, but the idea that his own grandfather may not have given a second thought about his own extremely gifted grandson's demise in the fallout of the A.R.K's collision course... was not an easy reality for him to consider. Even if they never met each other per say, did he really mean that little to Gerald?

And all because of his despair over Maria, the other grandchild...

The lesser one, Eggman thought bitterly, as he clenched his fist on the desk in a deceptively tranquil fit of stress. While Gerald was always too busy for young Ivo (and come to think of it, so were his parents, though that didn't matter as much), he had all the time in the world for Maria. Supposedly because of some illness or other that he dedicated his life to finding a cure for... but still, why did he hold her up high on a pedestal so much? Granted, Eggman never knew his cousin that well either, but what did she do to deserve it? SHE wasn't the one who made advanced automations during their school years, and anyway, if it hadn't been for her, Gerald wouldn't have gone insane and came close to wiping HIM from existence.

The doctor had no physical memorabilia of his grandfather, and it was always a secret desire to have at least one photo, no matter how old. But he also realised that even if he had one, it would have a likely chance of including the golden-haired child right beside him. For the sake of not having to witness the apparent bias at work, that was not designed in his own favor, perhaps it was for the best.

As he slumped further on his egg-shaped chair, he recalled to his own misfortune that it wasn't simply Maria on her own. By all accounts, Gerald seemed to favor another child over him as well... his pet project, to be exact. The Ultimate Lifeform.

The doctor's feelings on Shadow were every bit as messy, complicated, and a touch regretful. On one hand, he hated Shadow just like the rest. For making a fool out of him and causing the A.R.K. fallout to begin with, and for subsequently going on to join G.U.N. and oppose him alongside all those other anthropomorphic piles of sassy misery... along with that worthless traitor, E-123 Omega. His entire routine with the Shadow Androids was in part an act of petty revenge, to make the black hedgehog feel like a fool himself. An eye for an eye, as they say.

But at the same time... it didn't have to be this way. Eggman was perfectly aware that Shadow wasn't entirely on a different wavelength from him. Despite their dissimilar attitudes, their views were often in-tune with each other, and if there's one thing Eggman likes, it's when someone agrees with him wholeheartedly. They were both smart, and they could both see the grander picture. Not to mention their somewhat familial relation, even if they weren't literally related by blood. They agreed that the world had its issues, and the situation with Gerald was something that caused problems for both of them. It was also no secret that Shadow wasn't necessarily on buddy ol' pal terms with Sonic, especially when compared to the likes of the pink hedgehog, whose endless fawning never ceased to evade the doctor's approval and understanding. By all means, Shadow would understand Eggman's need for control, right...? Would he not take up the offer to help spread that control, and purge the world and beyond of all that could stand in the way of progression...?

No, it would seem not. Shadow considered Eggman's ideas a step too far into the realm of moral depravity (and perhaps absurdity), and never hesitated to inform him of that in blunt terminology. In Shadow's eyes, Eggman may be Professor Gerald's successor, but deep down, he was more comparable to Black Doom. Nothing more than scum in its purest form. At least, that was the impression that the doctor was given ever since the Ultimate Lifeform switched sides.

Is it possible... If he were still alive, and had he not gone off the deep end...

Would Gerald have felt the same way as his creation...?

Would he have disapproved of his grandson's actions...?

Would he have cast doubt on the path he's chosen in life...?

...Hmph. Who cares. What does it matter, when he ended up hardly a perfect bastion of selflessness either...

Eggman sighed to himself, born out of simultaneous acceptance and resignation. After all the time that had passed since the incident, it was still as clear as yesterday to him. He was forced to learn that day that for all his strengths, Gerald Robotnik was flawed like any other being... and those flaws came at Eggman's own expense, which was the important thing. He rested his elbows on his desk with his uniquely shaped head in his hands, almost prepared to sleep the night away to escape the depressing reality surrounding his childhood hero's shortcomings. No one was perfect, except himself.

Besides, he reasoned. Even Gerald apparently failed to unlock the mystery of the Ethereal Zone...

………...

………...

………...

Wait.

Wait.

Eggman slowly raised his head, as if a light bulb inside had just been set to maximum. His body tensed up. There was no obvious emotion on his face, and yet the glint in his glasses seemed to shine that little bit more as he processed his fresh revelation. After a brief period of uneasy silence, sitting as still as a statue...

He catapulted from his chair without warning, and almost broke the door open to the right of his lab with his surprising strength, revealing a flight of stairs that descended into the unknown. He rushed down the stairs like a madman, his feet gliding faster than all those times he escaped the blue hedgehog on foot, yet he did not stumble for a second, for despite his sudden frantic behaviour, he was very much focused. He went further and further down, the shadows below inviting him to continue the path that suggested great promise... or damnation.

Though he would have taken the time to admire the gargantuan portraits of himself on the walls in any other instance, each of them in their own over-enthusiastic poses, he neglected to take a moment to do even that, such was the speed of his feet as well as his brain. When he finally got to the bottom, he slammed a second door wide open, which revealed what appeared to be a personal library of sorts, filled to the brim with notes and publications about a wide variety of subjects that, with a few exceptions, nonetheless pertained mostly to science and history. Even in this personal library, a magnificent golden statue of his own self stood tall in the middle of the room, its muscular arms holding up the roof as if it were the mighty Atlas, complete with a flattering six pack that was, let's say, visually ambiguous on the real doctor's own person.

Eggman scanned the rows of books to no end, his concealed eyes darting left and right at a speed worthy of his nemesis. He sprinted towards the row furthest on the left, starting from A and working from there. Most of his books were made by a certain author that he was very familiar with, right down to inhabiting his body, but he possessed some of the late Gerald's documents as well here and there. The more he thought about it, there was that one that he never got around to reading. He had obtained it way back in the day... must have been around the time of the Flicky Island siege... but if he remembered the cover correctly, he was absolutely certain it related to what just clicked in his head. It wasn't about the Ultimate Lifeform, or his Prototype, or the Chaos units, or the Black Arms, or the Gizoid, or even the A.R.K. itself… it was something else entirely, of which he only knew the name of. And though Gerald's pursuits were often connected to each other, this one might have been before all that...?

“Is there something you need, doctor?” asked the timely arrival of Orbot, as he made his own way down the stairs in a mild hurry. “I heard a spot of noise a moment ago, and...”

He already concluded that the doctor wasn't listening, as he was much too focused on finding that one book. He paced along the aisles like a hungry tiger, yet his eyes were glancing up and down repeatedly, faster and faster. It wasn't in the A aisle, wasn't in the B aisle, nor in the C aisle, or the D... Wisp books... Little Planet books... cooking books... where was it, he thought to himself in a jumbled combination of giddiness and frustration that frequently clashed with each other by the second. He gritted his teeth slightly. Where was that one blasted book. He swore to himself that if Cubot lost it, or if he placed it out of alphabetical order in the wrong aisle - even by the second letter - then he would gladly rearrange his scrapped remains into a Dreamcast so functional that he could play Skies of Spagonia on-

...No. That won't be necessary. Not today. For it finally came into view, in the G aisle, thankfully the correct placement in this case. Fitted tightly between the sleeper hit of “The Games of Dr. Eggman”, and the somewhat rarer “The Glory of Man: An Ivo Robotnik Story”, sat one lone book... a hefty one from the looks of it, even compared to those by its immediate left and right. Using the uncanny length of his right arm, he effortlessly picked it out, its weight resulting in no visible strain on his part. Not even a second into looking at the cover, he could already tell for sure that this was the very one, as it was marked with a rather beautiful array of different colours, almost every colour of the rainbow at that. It was capped off with sharp white outlines that appeared to resemble translucent crystals, each complex outline forming a circle all together, like the shining rays of the sun. The title, in thick white bold, was upfront about its subject:

The Gems of Heaven, by Professor Gerald Robotnik A study of Viridonia and its phenomena

Without a word, he scrambled through the pages, not giving the slightest concern towards the proud history of this region, nor its sights, nor its cultures... only one thing was on his mind, which was already beginning to make a sinister calculation even at this primordial moment. Flashes of colour were passing through the pages, with photos so awe inspiring that anyone else would have taken a moment to savor… Until at last, his speedy page turning came to a very abrupt halt. It was as if time itself grieved. He found the part he was looking for... to the unknown regret of the rest of the population...

“Is something wrong?” Orbot asked, more timidly this time. He was facing the back of his creator, and he had no idea what mood he was in, though given what he overheard earlier at Cubot's expense, he could have made an easy guess. The master still didn't respond, what with his intense fixation on what he was reading. Despite the plentiful amount of pages dedicated to the chapter in question, his mental process was breezing through it. His eyes finally slowed down, and he took the time to read it through a second time, though still rather quickly compared to that of the average person.

All of a sudden, he closed the book shut. It made a notable echo in the room, enough to make his servant flinch. His shoulders rose a single time, then relaxed back down, as if a weight had been lifted off of them.

“Doctor...?”

“We have work to do,” Eggman finally answered. His voice was calm... uncharacteristically so. “A lot of work. Perhaps I shall rebuild some old friends to help us out... In the meantime, set a course for Viridonia, immediately.”

“Viridonia? Never heard of that one... whatever, got it,” Orbot complied without argument. “Let's just hope Sonic doesn't obtain another new pesky friend to his collection when he inevitably catches on to us, hmm?” He was about to head back upstairs, but he hesitated for a moment, and raised a finger as he turned back to the doctor. “You are okay though, right doctor?”

Eggman stood still for a few seconds, though Orbot could see his head raising ever so slightly. He slowly turned to the robot's direction, counter clockwise... and with it, a perfect grin on his face. Orbot had seen that maniacal grin so many times before, so surely he would be used to it... Yet in his heart of circuits - maybe it was due to how it glistened in the shadows - he could immediately sense that something was off with this one... more than usual anyway... He didn't like it.

This was it, the scientist thought.

With uncontested proof, everyone would at last be left with no argument, as they finally witness the day.

The day he officially surpasses his grandfather to the world.

Even if the world has to suffer for it.

“Never felt better.”

[wahbegan]

Desecration (for anon)

All right here it is I ended up getting so many ideas of ways to go with the plot that the dirt under the nails ended up being more of a recurring thing than a focal point but whatever enjoy

Here’s the smell of blood, still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.

-Macbeth, Act V: Scene I

Laßt die todten ruhen.

-Ernst Raupach

Lana was trying to get a promising femur fully unearthed when she heard Dani chime in behind her: “You know, this place is what J.K. Rowling named Harry Potter after. Well, I mean, you know, not THIS place, but just Potter’s Fields in general, I guess.”

“Yeah, that is so totally fucking fascinating, are you gonna come help me with this or what?”

Dani obediently jumped in the grave beside her, though grave was a bit of a loose term. Most of the burial sites around here were above-ground, and for good reason. When the flood waters had come, this place had been torn up and churned into a mass of mud, sink holes, and exposed bones. Which made it perfect.

Who would notice a few missing? It wasn’t like the corpses would feel the absence.

Lana and her sister were grave-robbers by trade, though they would never refer to themselves as such when asked. They were witches in a marketable sort of way, selling morbid curiosities to like-minded spirits and using them to adorn their apartment.

It was spiritual in a sense. It was an active deed of rebellion against the old religions and ways of thought that put these people in the dirt and forgot about them. It was a connection to the Earth and mortality...and it was a bit of fun, besides. Nobody robs graves because bones look cool.

But it helps.

Aesthetic witches, they would call themselves when making a sale. Profaning the sacred for fun and profit. But not the sacred to them. That’s what made it okay. These bones were sacred to a different time, a different religion. An oppressive artifact from dark times past that hated women and gay people.

In short, these were only sacred to the enemy. And besides that, just bones. It was Dani and Lana’s full belief that graveyards exist for the vain conceit of the living. An idiotic practice. Nobody living benefit from the dead staying in the dirt. Digging them up, however...

These particular bones’ rest had already been fairly thoroughly upset by nature, which seemed like a sign if there ever was one. The storm revealed the bones, and the moon herself smiled down and illuminated them, leading them surely and steadily to uncover more of the skeleton the femur belonged to. They’d become desensitized to the ghoulish nature of their work, the almost comical air of Gothic horror that surrounded them. In truth, it was nights like this they deliberately sought out to go gathering materials to turn into geode holders.

“Fucking Hell, that’s part of a spine. Hip bone, femur, spine...this guy’s looking great! Please have an intact skull, please have an intact skull...”

Dani was working farther up, uncovering smashed ribs and bits of sternum. “Nothing yet, Anal.” 

The pet name had always incensed her, mainly because she couldn’t think of a good enough comeback. Dani’s a hard name to make fun of. Dandy? Danny boy? She usually just settled on kid, despite only being 3 years older.

“Then shut your ass up and dig more, kid. Any of those ribs look good? Got a shoulderblade?”

“No, the femur looks like the best part, maybe the hip bone. The rest of him is all smashed to shit. Kinda looks like...”

She paused and frowned a bit, her mind seeming to drift off to do its own thing somewhere else.

Lana crouch-walked over to her and gave her a playful shove to bring her back to herself. “Like he got fucked up, yeah, probably was. Here, I’ll do this end, you just work on getting that hip bone the rest of the way out.”

Dani obeyed quietly and continued to work in silence. Lana was too focused to really notice how strange that was until later.

Right now, she was focused on prying up the thick, sticky Earth where she felt this guy’s skull had to be. It was hard work, grime working its way into the lines of her hand and under her fingernails. She kept prying and pulling at roots, certain it had to be there. 

This is right where it should be if the rest of his skeleton is here, there even seemed to be a bulge or a change in consistency of the Earth like it was packed in, and-

As she had clawed at the latest fistful of dirt, her fingernails had scraped down bone. It was an unpleasant sensation, and her nerves jangled a bit. She had to pull her hand out of the dirt and shake the unpleasant feeling out of it, but the look on her face was triumphant as she turned to look at her sister.

“Guess what I got, biiiitch?”

Dani looked up, still seeming in a bit of a daze. She had wrestled the man’s pelvic girdle out of the ground and was cleaning it off in her lap. “Huh?”

“The skull, dumbass!”

Dani returned to her usual self a bit, sarcastically craning her head to look around Lana and frowning. “I don’t see any skull...”

“Oh, fuck off, I’m working on it.”

It took several more minutes to get the thing out of the ground. It felt unusual: the wrong shape, the wrong texture. It was definitely a skull, but...

When she finally pulled it free, she understood. She held it in both hands, just staring at it in dumbfounded awe for a moment. Whoever this was, or had been, was hideously deformed. One eye socket was intact and full of thick dirt, but on the other side there was no depression at all. One nasal cavity was crooked, looking like it was about to collapse in on itself. 

But the most remarkable thing were the growths. Rough, almost tumorous growths of bone protruded around the back left quarter of the skull, running up to the skullcap and around the left side of the face almost to the missing eye. Overall they seemed to form one irregular mass, giving the head a lopsided, half-sunken appearance. They were coarse, almost jagged to the touch, overlapping and stacking on each other like some kind of plant or fungal bloom. Like coral.

Then she noticed the scoring. Lines on the bone. Not natural ones. Incisions cut into it. Someone had sliced this man’s face to pieces. As she turned it in her hands, she saw the probable cause of death: a hole straight through the back of the cranium, almost perfectly square. A stake hammered through it, most likely.

Lana felt like it was Christmas morning.

She was still staring in silence as Dani turned over the pelvis and mused behind her. “Hmm...think it’s a woman, actually.” Dani had dreams of being a forensic anthropologist that were on the back burner for now. Mainly because it was exactly what she did now, but she’d be celebrated instead of given strange looks and possibly arrested.

“Fuck that. Come look at this.”

“Fuck that?! Well, excuse me for trying to be-woah. Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Holy shit.”

They both stared in measured awe for a moment before grinning at each other as Dani threw her arm around Lana’s shoulders and kissed her cheek.

“This is our Golden Ticket, Dan. I can feel it.”

In the end, they only took the skull home with them. They left the ribs, hips, and leg where they lay in the mud.

Neither of them noticed how dark it had gotten. The moon had gone out on them.

Dani sat cross-legged on their rolling chair, scrolling through articles on her laptop, which a decal helpfully informed all and sundry was located on Elm Street. Lana was still cleaning the skull slowly, meticulously. It was hard work, and she didn’t want to put even one nick on the thing. 

“God damn it, wish we had some of those beetles. You find anything yet?”

“Shhh, shut up Anal, I’m working here.”

Lana rolled her eyes, even as she smiled a bit. She put it down to the fact that she was the younger of the two, but Dani seemed to get a little too into the stuff. She took it seriously in a way Lana just didn’t, couldn’t. She’d outgrown that phase. She knew Dani would too, eventually, wouldn’t pore over articles online so meticulously trying to figure out who it was they dug up, the exact history and superstition behind all their morbid little artifacts. The thought almost made her sad. She really could be a great Forensic Anthropologist if that’s what she wanted.

She put the brush and pick down and looked at her hands absently while she waited for the kid to come back with something interesting. They were almost black, filth-encrusted. Her skin was darkened in general, but it was the lines of her hands and fingerprints that the grave soil really threw into sharp relief. And her fingernails. Under the tips, in her cuticles...she hadn’t thought she’d gotten that much dirt on her hands while she dug.

“God, my hands are fucking filthy.”

Dani didn’t look up. “You know, a very long time ago, people invented this wonderful thing called soap, and if you mix it with water, do you know what happens? It’s really amazing.”

Lana made as if to punch her and then walked to the bathroom sink and started scrubbing.

The water going down the sink was almost black. Must have been the rain. She made a mental note to avoid digging in the mud in the future. The water ran translucent black, but somehow she STILL wasn’t getting it-

“Hey, get in here! I think I got something.”

She ran out of the bathroom so fast that she barely dried her hands, and didn’t see the dark stains left behind on the towels. 

“All right, so,” Dani was thrilled enough with her discovery she didn’t even wait for Lana to say anything or get all the way over to her, she just started dumping. She was like that. “I haven’t got a name, but I was looking at old medical cases involving disfigurement or deformity. Turns out, first of all, I was right. It was a woman. See? I don’t even need no fucking doctorate! Anyway, I think this is our gal.”

The old monochrome photograph showed the side of a tent, presumably that of a travelling freak show. There was a bearded woman, conjoined twins, a little man, a man covered in thick fur-like hair...and on the far right, sitting in a chair, a black woman with one eye, a collapsing nose, and a swollen, lopsided head. 

She had no hair on the deformed side, and the scalp looked rough and uneven in texture. From the photograph, it was clear her arms and the lower half of at least one leg were swollen and malformed as well.

“So THAT is a travelling sideshow that moved throughout the South at the end of the 19th Century. Apparently, her deformity started out relatively minor, but as she grew, her bones kept...” Dani looked away from the screen and nodded at the skull. “Doing that. I think it’s called...ossification? Atypical osseous growth? I’m not exactly sure. Anyway, like I said, her name’s not listed, but she was apparently something of an object of fascination to a white surgeon who lived right around here, one...Robert Ender, who wrote a first-hand account of his research into her affliction, but it’s behind a fucking paywall. Of course. Anyway, in 1893, says he paid the circus owner a lot of money for...her?”

“For her? What do you mean ‘for’ her?”

Dani was squinting at the screen, still reading. “Hold on, I don’t know, to study or something? Aw, what if they got married, wouldn’t that be-”

“What? Kid?”

Dani’s eyes looked different, the excited light had gone out of them. She suddenly seemed much older than she was, looked tired. Tired and a bit sick. She continued reading in a monotone voice. “Ender paid the circus owner an enormous amount of money to study her affliction. Medical experimentation on black women was on the wane since the end of slavery, but since she was a side show performer, and this WAS the deep-ass South...” she trailed off for a moment before continuing.

“He made several surgical incisions into her head and face and vivisected her. She eventually died during a trepanation. There was a minor scandal, but charges were never pressed and Dr. Ender kept his position in society. Her body was buried nameless in the Potter’s Field.” She cast her eyes down. “That’s what I saw...you know, in the ribs. It looked like they had been cut one by one. By shears, you know? Peeled back.”

There was silence between them for a moment before Lana grinned and patted her sister on the back. “Jesus, great job kid! That’s...incredibly fucked up, but look at us! We got a minor celebrity here. We can put her story everywhere. I’m not sure I want to sell her.”

Dani cringed at the words “sell her.” She chewed her lip for a moment in a way Lana had come to know well over the years. It was her designated “i’m going to say something that will upset you and trying to pick my words carefully” face.

“Lana...I don’t think I’m comfortable with this.”

“What are you talking about?!” Lana laughed a bit, still not taking her very seriously. “You’re the one who wants to go pro with grave-robbing, what’s the problem?”

“We shouldn’t keep it.”

“All right, I mean, if you REALLY want we can sell it, it just seems like a was-”

“That’s not what I mean.” She paused again, then looked Lana in the eyes for the first time. “We should put it back.”

“What?! Put it back? What, you think her ghost is coming for us?”

“You’re not listening!” her voice had a force in it that it almost never contained, and Lana was taken aback. “I’m not scared of it. It’s just so...sad.”

“Honey,” Lana put her hand on her sister’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “She’s already dead. There’s nothing we can do. But we can tell her story! We can make something out of her death, right?”

“We don’t even know her name.”

Lana stared at the skull, considering for a moment. “What about...Octavia?”

Dani cocked her eyebrow, but made no response. 

“Yeah, Octavia! That’s a good name, right? Hey, Octavia,” Lana turned towards the skull on the counter with a friendly wave. “You cool if we take some pictures of you and put them on the internet? Not that you know what that IS, but...” she turned back to Dani, expecting a begrudging smile. There wasn’t one.

She just shook her head slowly, then looked over at the hand Lana still had on her shoulder. “Jesus, woman, I thought you washed your hands.”

Lana herself took a good look at them for the first time since she’d come out of the bathroom. If anything, they looked dirtier. She glanced under her nails to see a thick black line of accumulated dirt. “I did! I don’t know why this dirt’s so stubborn. Wait here,” she sighed and returned to the bathroom.

As she scrubbed, watching black dirt flow down the drain, she heard Dani get up and move around. “Hey, I’m going out for cigarettes. You want anything?” 

Lana poked her head around the doorframe. “I thought you were quitting!”

Dani just shrugged and continued out the door.

It made her a bit angry, in all honesty. The kid was overreacting, which wasn’t that unusual for her. They had more than one fight in the past caused by Dani being too sensitive about strange things. But this was different. It was always petty shit, big dramatic blow-outs of the kind that siblings had, but that always blew over when they admitted they were both being assholes.

But Dani had looked at her with real reproach. With something accusatory in her eyes. She thought it was wrong. She thought Lana was a bad person. 

The black kept flowing down the drain, and Lana scrubbed her hands harder. “Fucking thing...”

It wasn’t like none of the bones they’d taken before hadn’t been from people who died badly or had bad lives, was it? They were dead now. That was one thing the two had always agreed on. They were dead, and the dead have no use for their bodies. 

She looked at her hands, which felt raw. Dirty as ever. She grabbed a towel and scrubbed it over her hands and fingers. By the end, it was badly stained, the individual fibers clotting together. 

But her hands were dirty. And there was that black under her fingernails.

“God DAMN it, how...” Lana felt a rush and a drop in her stomach, like she’d just fallen off a cliff. Something was wrong.

She was at the desk now, fumbling through implements, grabbing the pick she’d been cleaning the skull with to take it to her nails. She picked it up and stared.

The skull was dirty again. More than dirty. Its eye was packed with soil, just as it was when she first found it. 

She stared, clutching the pick in her nerveless hands. In a moment the shock would wear off and she would truly panic, but for now, her brain was still trying to make some kind of rational sense of it, trying to parse what it was seeing. In a sort of faraway daze, she noticed a furtive movement under where the skull rested. She was dimly aware she was going to regret turning it over, but that didn’t mean she could stop herself.

A massive Devil’s Coach Horse scuttled out, raising its abdomen in a threat display and opening and closing its jagged mandibles at her. The panic broke forth.

Lana screamed and back-handed the thing, trying to brush it off the desk. It flew directly at her face, buzzing. She flailed and swatted blindly around her head in a panic, only to receive a painful pinching sensation in her forearm. It had sunk its jaws into her flesh and was holding there tightly.

She dropped the skull. She could punch herself in the face for doing it, always treated her bones better than that, would never risk breaking it, but it was a reflex. She dropped it and swatted at the horrible black beetle, only to make contact with her own skin.

The buzzing had stopped. The beetle was gone. So, too, was the dirt. The skull lay innocently on the floor, cleaned off, staring at her.

She stood there for a moment, breathing raggedly, hands shaking. “I’ve lost my fucking mind. I’ve gone...and lost...my fucking mind.”

She looked at her shaking hands intently. She closed her eyes and opened them again. She shook her head, bit her tongue and took deep breaths. But after all, the dirt was still there. The one thing that hadn’t left.

She lifted her pick up again off the floor. She didn’t dare touch the skull. She worked it under the crescent of her fingernails, scraping and tugging at the accumulated filth. It came free easily enough, she noticed. There was plenty of it on the tip of the pick and raining down on the floor. The problem was it kept coming back. She could see it now. As she pulled one line of dirt from beneath her nail, another seemed to seep out and take its place.

Jesus Christ, where was it all coming from?

She turned the sink on high, as hot as it would go, and got her pocket knife. She wasn’t thinking rationally, it was just animal panic and desperation to get the damned dirt out. She worked the blade under her nail until it flared with red hot pain. 

She worked through her other nails, digging and stabbing underneath, biting down to keep from crying out as more and more dirt came out. Black was running down her fingers now, a translucent black like the dirty water going down the drain.

There was a source, there had to be a source.

“Fuck it.” Lana growled and wrenched a nail free, then another. She started screaming again as she saw what was underneath. There was no blood, no exposed bed of nerves. Just more dirt. Black powder. She dug at the miniature dirt beds in her fingertips with the knifepoint, prying more and more loose before giving up, throwing it down on the floor in frustration. 

She wrung her hands under the water, trying to get it out, trying to get anything out at all. It was helpless, the water just kept flowing black, there was nothing but dirt underneath her skin and her nails. The pain was unbearable. She felt light-headed, on the verge of passing out, but she couldn’t stop. Not now.

Dani was only gone for about 15 minutes, but was already too late. There was blood everywhere. Running down the sink to the floor, on the mirror, on the knife. The sink was full of nails, and the water that ran past them down the drain was pink. Lana was slumped across the far wall of the bathroom, barely conscious. There was no skin left on her hands. She had scrubbed it off.

Dani didn’t ask her any questions. Not as she drove her to the hospital, not when she regained her consciousness. Not ever. What she did was take her in, leave her with the doctors, and drive straight back to the Potter’s Field. 

What she did was put the skull back exactly where she found it, and say a tearful apology, and beg for mercy for her sister.

She told Lana later, as she was visiting her in the mental hospital she’d been referred to. She said it unprompted. Worded it gently, like she didn’t suspect damn well what had happened. “Hey, Anal.” She rested her hand on top of the gauze covering her older sister’s. “I, um...look, don’t be mad, but I got rid of that skull while you were recovering. It...I really wasn’t comfortable with it, you know, and I just thought that-”

“Thank you.” Lana’s smile was weak, but real. “I’m sorry.”

It was almost the last time they ever spoke of it. Once, as Lana caught Dani glancing forlornly at the gloves she had taken to wearing, the subject came up again.

“It’s not your fault, kid. You know that.”

“I stormed out on you because I was upset. That was dumb.”

“Yeah, well, if I’d listened to you...you know. I was just...excited. Felt like we found something real, you know?”

Dani let out a bitter laugh. “We did. Lana? Do you ever wish we did tell her story?”

Lana considered it for a moment before slowly shaking her head. “I think, maybe...maybe it wasn’t our story to tell.”

[dirty-little-fanfricker]

Praise The Lord

This is a birthday present for @xladymalice

She is the kindest, sweetest person I know and she’s a blast to talk too when can!

I know I can’t give some amazing piece of art so just take this instead!

WHOOO! Wowie, I had a lot of fun writing this. I know I’m a few hours late but it better than nothing and I did say I’d give you some, Milday!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MALI! YOU BEAUTIFUL SINNER!!

Papyrus was at it again. He was watching Sans when he should of been working. He had started day dreaming about Sans. These daydream was just getting more and more perverted by the minutes but who gave a fuck? Not like anyone would know anyways. ‘Mmm~’ He shivered at his day dream.

Sans came over to him with an alluring smile, pulling off bits of his clothes. Teasing him. A sultry grin across his skull with a tilt of his cranium as he moved closer to Papyrus. His movements were slow, his hips swayed patiently. Papyrus was growing impatient. He wanted those hips in his hands, those bones against him.

As Sans got closer to Papyrus, he felt his magic twitch and tingle under his jeans. Sans was down to his shorts and scarf. He sat back in his seat, watching Sans intently. He wanted to wrap that scarf around his hand as he plunged himself deep into Sans’ magic from behind.

        “Oh fuck yes~”

Papyrus watched as his slick, conjured appendage lapped slightly as his jaw while he watched Sans climb onto his post. He was still wearing his shoes. Papyrus did love him in those. He watched as Sans moved slightly, his spine arched, his hips tilted back and forth as he crawled closer. 

         “Papy~~”

He cooed to his brother, reaching for him, purring his name in a breathless, sultry tone. He wanted him. He wanted him back.

Papyrus watched, staying just out of Sans’ reached, watching his need and want for him grow. Papyrus was getting impatient with himself. He watched to drill him. He wanted him to take every inch of his hardened member. He needed to feel Sans’ magic twitching and tightening around his, constricting his movements and keeping him buried in the tight little canal.

Fucking….

His own thought was incomplete when Sans finally pushed past his boundaries and climbed into Papyrus’ lap. His breath was hitched at the sudden warmth over his hidden member.

          “You little fucking tease~ You don’t think I haven’t been noticing the signals you’ve been sending me all day?” 

He growled and tried to keep his hands to himself. Sans smiled, after if hoping Papyrus would take notes since he knew he was watching him all day instead of doing his fucking job. Sans wanting him to watch him. He always wanted him to watch him. He was always putting on a show for Papyrus. Wanting him to get a socket full of how much his “little” brother loved him and admired his sockets on him.

Papyrus groaned at the lightest touch as Sans touched his chest. Papyrus shut his eyes and he heard Sans whine and cup his jaw. Papyrus opened his eyes.

            “Please look at me, Papy~ Please look at me~”

Sans whined for his attention, as if he couldn’t function without being under Papyrus’ watchful gaze. Papyrus smirked after he teased Sans. He had to control himself for the time being. He slid his hands up Sans’ femur and watched him shudder. That’s exactly how he wanted Sans, shivering under his touch, whining for his gaze to be on him, melting as Papyrus breathed down his vertebrae.

           “Ya like that, Sansy?~ Oh shit, I bet you want me to fucking wreck you. I’m gonna bend you over and take you from behind~ Or maybe I’ll just blow on your wanting sex~”

Papyrus growled again, watching Sans melt under his word, he shivered and whimpered for Papyrus to go through with his promises.

           “I’ll hold you down and take you, showing everyone that you’re fucking mine~”

His hands were on his hips now, the tips of his digits scraped against his sacrum. Sans jerked and arched his spine, throwing his head back at the simple, teasing stroke. Papyrus thumbed his pelvic region and watched him shiver again. 

This time Sans’ breath was hitched. He stared up at Papyrus as little hearts bubbled in his pupils. They were filled with want and lust. Papyrus moved his hands up his spine slowly. It was a way to control himself from ravaging Sans but it wasn’t working anymore. Sans started to move his hips and Papyrus’ self control snapped.

He pinned Sans down to the counter hard, gripping his wrist tightly. The surprised gasp that came from Sans excited Papyrus. He grind against his soaked entrance, watching Sans moan and press against him to feel the bulge even more. Papyrus held in a groan of his own at the feeling.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He held him down with one hand and undid his jeans with the other. He wasted no time in getting out his hardened length, it was twitching and searching for Sans’ entrance that begged to be intruded on. He was going to give Sans exactly what he promised. 

Once he positioned himself, he tried to not ram into him but he couldn’t wait any, longer. He jammed himself into Sans, holding him down as he watched his little body jerk and flinch hard in pleasure. He tilted his head back as he groaned and growled in pleasure. Breathless, ragged moans escaped Sans’ jaw, rolling off his blue tinted coloured,slick appendage. Papyrus almost couldn’t resist slamming into Sans’ magic but instead he gave him hard, slow rhythmic ruts, rolling his hips as he kept a tight hold on his wrists. He leaned down to Sans to listen to his whining pants.

          “Oh Sans, you’re taking all of me so well! You’re so good at this~ There you go, my lord~ Yes, just like that! You’re amazing~”

He watched his facial feature change every few thrusts, pleasure in every new twist of his expression. He watched Sans take a liking to the praises he was given. Every lord deserved praises, didn’t they? But Papyrus’ lord was special. Unique. Beautiful. And solely his and his alone.

          “Oh fuck, Sans~!! You’re doing an amazing job! You’re taking in every inch like a good boy!!”

Papyrus was losing it. His thrusts became sloppy and restless. He was close, so very close and he felt Sans’ orgasm closing in on him as well. He could tell. He was begging and pleading for Papyrus not to look away.

         “You like that, Sansy?! I bet you love it! You love it when I watch you! You love it was I fuck you like this! I bet you like getting drill by me~~ I’m gonna break you~ I’m gonna stir you up and turn you into my own little mess~!” 

He was practically slamming Sans now, the post was shaking and Sans was screaming. His orgasm was rushing in on him hard. He felt it and he knew Papyrus could tell and he could tell that Papyrus’ was right behind his from his erratic movements. He wrapped his legs around him tightly.

         “Papy!”

    “Papyrus!!” 

“PAPYRUS!!!” Sans screamed at him and snapped his fingers in his face. Papyrus jerked, as if he just came out of a hypnotic trance. “Papyrus, you fucking jackass!! Have you been listening to a thing I’ve fucking sad?!” Sans yelled at him.

Papyrus blinked, looking at his sire. “Y..Yes.” He lied.

“Oh fucking really? What the hell did I just say then?” Sans put a gloved hand on his hip, glaring hard at Papyrus. He knew he wasn’t listening and he was waiting for Papyrus to lie.

Papyrus had to think fast but he wasn’t listening to a damn word he had said this whole time. “Hmm…that…it was time for us to go home?” He tried to sound certain.

Sans blinked a little. His hard glare softened a little. “Looks like you were listening. And if you were listening then come the fuck on! I don’t want to wait all night because I’ll leave your ass out here!” He turned on his heel and started to walk. His pace was steady and quick. Papyrus would catch up in a matter of moments.

Papyrus blew out a sigh of relief. He chuckled though as he stood and stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching Sans go. He saw Sans stop and look over his shoulder at Papyrus. Sans smirked at him and licked his gloved index digit with the same sultry, lustful gaze from Papyrus’ daydream. Papyrus twitched in surprise. It was like Sans knew exactly what he was thinking about the whole time.

“LET’S GO MUTT!!!” Sans yelled.

Papyrus chuckled again and started to follow after him, leaving his post to catch up with Sans.

 “Yes, My Lord~”

Like what I’m doing and want to support me? Here! Buy me a marshmallow!

Thinking about Commissioning me? Thanks! See here for details!

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

A prompt for Valentine fic, if you don't mind c: So: first time Stiles gets a date for Valentine, detailed plans and all, but that morning he's being stood up and shit goes down with a new baddy, so he's kind of freaking done, and he also gets hurt (but not too much) so Derek, feeling how much he's sad and angry, since Der called him there, decides to make up for it even with his awkward social skills and angry eyebrows. Cool date (and sex, if you're up to) ensues. HAPPY ENDING yeah c: Thanks c:

Also on ao3!

Stiles brought the bat down on the kelpie’s head again with a sickeningly wet thud. He raised it only to slam it back down on the creature’s pulverized cranium, bone cracking under the overzealous assault.

The rest of the pack looked on in a mix of horror and morbid fascination as Stiles continued to literally beat the dead supernatural horse. Black blood seeped out of the kelpie’s many various wounds, painting the rocky riverside with dark gore, the moss stained by the dark blood.

After a couple hikers had been reported missing in the preserve earlier that day, the pack had spent hours trying to figure out what had happened, attempting to decide whether or not there was a supernatural component or not. Their suspicions had intensified when the hiker’s dead bodies were found downstream, pre-mortem slashes and bruises covering them, fluid in their lungs indicating that they had drowned.

It was Stiles who had come to the conclusion that a kelpie was responsible for the deaths of the couple, pointing out the hoof shaped contusions on one of the men’s chests. Derek deeming it very plausible, the pack had taken to the preserve, searching the area in which the hikers had gone missing for any sign of the kelpie.

After over two hours of canvassing the area, searching for the creature, it had made its whereabouts known by bellowing out a deafening roar when Isaac got a little too close to the river where it was residing. In response, Isaac had thrown his head back and howled for reinforcements while trying to fight off the crazed kelpie.

The rest of the pack had arrived in time to save Isaac from getting his skull crushed by one of the kelpie’s hooves, Derek tugging him out of harm’s way with a ferocious roar of his own. The alpha had received a lash to his face from the kelpie’s whip-like tail of seaweed for his troubles, a line of blood smattered across his face as he flashed his bright red eyes at the kelpie.

With the pack surrounding it, the kelpie had become even more aggressive, lashing out at them whenever one of them so much as breathed, leaving almost all of them wounded, dragging a few of them into the river with it as it attempted to escape. Crawling out of the frigid water, Stiles had ended things with one fell swing of his bat, the kelpie collapsing on the riverbank with a loud thump, but once Stiles started, he couldn’t stop.

He was pissed. It was Valentine’s Day and there he was in the middle of the preserve, soaking wet with his side throbbing from where the kelpie had scratched him with the sharp edge of one of its hooves.

He grunted as he continued his assault on the kelpie’s skull, the rest of the pack wincing each time he landed a blow on the kelpie’s head, eyes riveted to the gut-wrenching scene. Eventually, after several excruciating minutes of the violence, a hand shot out to grab the bat, sparing the kelpie corpse another hit and stopping Stiles in his tracks

“What?!” Stiles growled, snapping his head up to meet Peter’s eyes, baring his teeth in a human snarl, panting heavily as he tightened his grip on the bat. Peter just rolled his eyes at him with a snort.

“As much as I am a fan of unnecessary violence, this―” he waved his hand to indicate the kelpie’s dead body, black blood seeping out of its demolished skull “―is just plain excessive,” Peter drawled with a judgemental grimace. He dropped his right hand, wrinkling his nose at the sticky black blood covering his palm before wiping it off on the side of his designer jeans. Turning back to Stiles, he casually suggested, “Now, why don’t we just wash up and spend the rest of the evening having rough, wild sex, hmm?”

“In your dreams,” Stiles spat viciously, straightening up and squaring his shoulders, narrowing his eyes at the smirking werewolf. He was in no mood for Peter’s perverted little teasing.

“Well, yes. But that doesn’t quite answer my question,” Peter pointed out, raking his half-lidded eyes over Stiles’ body, not bothering to conceal his blatant interest. Stiles rolled his eyes, freezing stock still when Peter tacked on, “One would think that after getting stood up this morning you would be more than happy to jump into bed with someone as good-looking as myself.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles snarled, though he wasn’t at all surprised at Peter’s words, not surprised by the fact that the werewolf would so callously throw the little tidbit back in his face after Stiles confided in him. He shouldered passed him to crouch down by the river, dipping his hands into the algid water to wash the kelpie blood off his hands, feeling the eyes of the other pack members boring into him.

For the past two weeks, he had talked all of their ears off about the cute guy he had met at the local coffee shop, the one who had ordered the same exact latte as him, both ordering chocolate cherry muffins too. They had all been excited for him, except maybe Derek who had just nodded indifferently when Stiles had told him about meeting Eric.

After texting back and forth for a few days, they had agreed to go out for coffee together on Valentine’s Day, planning to meet at the same coffee shop where they had first bumped into each other. Stiles had been absolutely giddy in the days leading up to their date, unable to keep from breaking into a wide grin at the very thought of seeing Eric again.

That morning he had waited for over two hours for him to show up, going through several large cups of espresso and a few red velvet muffins before he just gave up, coming to terms with the fact that Eric had stood him up. He had run into Peter on his walk home, leaving his Jeep at home due to the unseasonably warm weather that day, on pure impulse admitting that he had been stood up. Peter had actually been rather sympathetic, offering a gentle pat on the back and a few choice words about Eric being an asshole.

And now the rest of the pack knew, probably looking at him with pity in their eyes and trite words on the tips of their tongues. If he hadn’t been pissed before, he certainly was now, bracing himself for one of them to say something about his failed date.

But what he heard instead was the telltale jingle of keys and Derek’s voice firmly instructing the betas, “Go home and get some rest. I’ll take care of the body.”

Stiles heard the crunch of the underbrush as the betas headed back to the Camaro, their footsteps fading away as he focused on cleaning the blood off his bat. He waited patiently for Derek to say something, chewing his lip and ducking his head, feeling like an idiot.

He had let his emotions get the better of him, his frustrations taking over the much more reasonable part of him. Derek was sure to chew him out for it.

“Do you still have a can of gas in your Jeep?” Derek asked instead, much to Stiles’ surprise, the sound of his voice making Stiles jolt and nearly tumble back into the river again, steadying himself with a hand braced on a large mossy rock. Stiles whipped his head around to gawk at Derek, raising a curious brow at the werewolf who just gestured to the dead kelpie, placidly explaining, “We need to burn it.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” Stiles mumbled, digging around in the pocket of his hoodie for his car keys, finally finding them and yanking them out of his pocket with a triumphant half smile. He tossed them over to Derek who caught them without batting an eye, turning on his heel to jog through the woods back to where Stiles had parked the Jeep earlier, leaving him to finish cleaning up.

Derek returned a few minutes later with the bright orange gas can just as Stiles rose to his feet, drying his hands on his jeans. Derek motioned Stiles over with a jerk of his head, encouraging him to move further away from the kelpie’s body as he began dousing the corpse with a generous amount of gasoline.

Stiles moved away from the river, resting his bat on his shoulder as he scurried over to stand behind Derek, watching as the alpha emptied the can over the kelpie corpse, coating its leathery hide. Pulling a silver Zippo lighter out of his pocket, Derek took a few steps back, dragging Stiles along with him, and grabbed a dry, brittle stick from off the ground. He lit the end of the twig with the Zippo and tossed it onto the kelpie.

They watched as the creature was engulfed in a bloom of flames, dark flesh burning away to ash in mere minutes, bones crumbling into dust. A cloud of sickly green smoke rose from the kelpie’s disintegrating body, rising up into the night air where it was whipped away by the wind.

They waited until the fire died down to cinders, Derek kicking some dirt onto the remaining ashes, before turning to leave, Stiles still waiting for Derek to reprimand him for his downright cruel behavior earlier. But it never came. Not when they walked back to the Jeep, not when they climbed into, Stiles not saying a single word about Derek driving, not when they drove out of the preserve and back into town.

“Umm… My house is that way,” Stiles piped up, hooking a thumb over his shoulder, when Derek missed the turn that Stiles usually took to get back home after a night of monster hunting in the preserve. He couldn’t think of any reason why Derek would be driving him anywhere else. It didn’t make much sense at all.

“I need to check your side,” Derek announced in response, not taking his eyes off the road for a second, driving in the opposite direction of Stiles’ house. Flicking his eyes over to Stiles, fixating on the shredded fabric of his t-shirt, his skin covered in blood from both himself and the kelpie, Derek elaborated, “It’ll be easier to do it at the loft. And I don’t think your dad would appreciate it if we woke him up in the middle of the night.”

“Afraid he’s gonna shoot you?” Stiles managed to joke, relaxing back into the plush cushion of the passenger seat, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He sighed contentedly when Derek turned up the heat, welcome warmth seeping into his chilled skin.

“Yeah,” Derek unabashedly admitted, making another turn in the direction of the loft, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. With another glance over at Stiles, he added, “I have a feeling he might if I wake him up after working a two day straight shift.”

“You’re not wrong,” Stiles conceded with a crooked grin of his own, well aware of how cranky his dad could get when woken up early. He had made that mistake more times than he liked to think about.

They didn’t talk much for the remainder of the drive back to the loft, Stiles coming close to nodding off as he hummed along to the radio under his breath, cold and tired. Derek startled him out of a light doze with a hand on his shoulder when they arrived at the loft, Stiles nearly smacking Derek in the face when he flailed in surprise.

Still in a bit of a daze, he fumbled his way out of the Jeep and followed Derek into the building, groaning aloud at the arduous sight of all the stairs that they would have to scale just to get to the loft. He already felt like he was about to keel over from exhaustion and he and stairs had never gotten along too well anyhow. He turned to Derek with an exaggerated pout, inquiring, “Would it be weird if I asked you to carry me?”

Derek cocked a brow at him, resting a hand on Stiles’ lower back to lead him towards the elevator, stepping inside and waiting for Stiles to join him. But Stiles just gawked at him incredulously, face blanching as he scanned his eyes over the rickety old box of death.

“What?” Derek prompted, folding his arms over his chest as he looked at Stiles like he was the crazy one for not wanting to climb into the elevator. “You said you didn’t want to take the stairs.”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles conceded, scratching the back of his head as he looked back at the flights of stairs which suddenly looked very appealing in comparison. Turning back to Derek, he waved his hand around wildly, announcing, “But I’d rather take the stairs than that thing!”

“You’ll be fine,” Derek insisted, rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head at Stiles’ insufferability. Dropping his hand, he met Stiles’ eyes, swearing, “I promise, you’ll be fine, Stiles. If anything happens, I’ll be right here. Now, will you please just get in the elevator?”

“Fine,” he reluctantly capitulated, taking a cautious step into the elevator, jumping with a high-pitched yelp when Derek yanked the grate closed behind him, rolling his eyes again. He practically clung to Derek’s arm as the elevator climbed to Derek’s floor, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he mumbled under his breath, “I swear to god, if I die in here I will haunt you for the rest of your life!”

Stiles couldn’t be sure, not seeing it for himself, but he was pretty sure that Derek rolled his eyes again, breathing out a deep sigh at Stiles’ panicked little half-hearted threat.

Once they made it to Derek’s floor, the elevator jolting to a jerky stop, Stiles hopped out of the elevator and rushed over to the heavy steel door of the loft, feeling a bit nauseous. He tugged the door open, letting himself in, not bothering to wait for Derek, making himself right at home by plopping down on the couch.

“Get up,” Derek ordered, following him into the loft, slipping out of his leather jacket which he draped over the back of his favorite recliner after closing the steel door. Stiles looked up at him, offended, crossing his arms over his chest as he frowned. But Derek just strode over and shoved his feet off the couch and snapped, “Go take a shower before you get blood all over the couch. It’s new.”

Stiles pushed himself to his feet with a fair amount of grumbling, kicking off his soaking wet Converse that had been squeaking incessantly since the kelpie had knocked him into the river. Still muttering to himself under his breath, Stiles padded down the hallway to the bathroom, closing the door himself as he quickly and efficiently stripped out of his sopping wet clothes.

He could hear Derek moving around in the main living room while he turned on the hot water, probably gathering things he would need to patch up the bloody scratches on Stiles’ side. Testing the temperature of the spray with his hand before stepping into the stall, sighing at the hot water that sluiced over his cold skin, Stiles silently thanked whatever gods were responsible for perfect water pressure.

He used an obscene amount of Derek’s expensive body wash that smelled like a refreshing blend of cedarwood and jasmine, sure he probably smelt like a rancid swamp, using an ample amount to wash his hair with. Very carefully, he used some unscented soap to scrub away most of the blood on his side, wincing at the gnarly sight of the ragged scratches, the cuts throbbing a bit under his ministrations.

After lingering in the shower for a few extra minutes, soaking up as much warmth as he possibly could, Stiles begrudgingly turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around himself. He nearly jumped out of his own skin when he heard a knock at the bathroom door, clutching the towel to his chest in a half-assed attempt to cover himself.

“Um, yeah?” Stiles called, trying to calm his pounding heartbeat, pressing a hand to his chest over the fabric of the towel. He let out a deep sigh, hoping Derek hadn’t noticed just how frightened he had gotten.

“It’s just me,” Derek responded, his tone even and placating so as not to startle Stiles any more than he already had. After a few brief moments of silence, he murmured, “I brought you some clothes.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles answered, fumbling to wrap the towel around his waist as he crossed the room to the door, opening it just enough to peer out at Derek. He was holding a stack of neatly folded clothes in his arms, a soft looking maroon Henley and a pair of baggy black sweatpants, hands outstretched in offering. Stiles accepted them gratefully, murmuring, “Uh, thanks, dude.”

Derek offered a tight smile, a flash of red high on his cheeks, and pulled the door closed him, leaving Stiles to finish drying off and getting redressed. He was quick to dry himself off, scrubbing the towel over his wet skin until he was dry enough to not track water through the loft, shaking his head to help dry his thick hair.

Feeling a bit of a chill again, he quickly tugged on the warm Henley and sweatpants, glad to see that Derek had enclosed a pair of boxer briefs with the pants. He didn’t bother lingering in the bathroom much longer, draping the damp towel and his wet clothes over the shower rod to dry before leaving the room and heading back out to the living room where Derek was sitting on the couch.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted, absent-mindedly fidgeting with the hem of his borrowed Henley, nodding his chin at Derek as he took a seat beside him on the couch. He glanced at the coffee table where there was both a first aid kit and a box of pizza from his favorite takeout place, the mere sight of the box enough to make his mouth water, his stomach rumbling loudly.

“Hey,” Derek returned. Indicating the pizza box, he said, “I thought you might be hungry so I ordered your favorite.”

“Ooh, meat lover’s with curly fries?” Stiles asked, impatiently lifting the lid of the pizza box, licking his lips at the glorious sight of five different types of meats and four different kinds of cheeses, curly fries liberally sprinkled over top just the way he liked. Grabbing a big heaping slice, greases dripping down his fingers to the inside of his wrist, he enthusiastically announced, “Dude, you’re the best!”

“How’s your side?” Derek questioned, leaning forward to grab himself a slice as Stiles took a few large greedy bites of his own, looking a bit like a chipmunk with his round cheeks as he chewed.

Swallowing heavily, Stiles nodded, voice a little muffled as he reported, “It’s okay. Still hurts a little but it stopped bleeding.”

Derek nodded and took a bite of his own slice, folding his piece of pizza in half so as not to lose any toppings, grabbing a napkin to mop at the corners of his mouth. Pausing for a moment, he gestured towards the first aid kit on the coffee table, claiming, “You should put some antiseptic on it. And a bandage.”

Stiles just nodded and gave a little salute, too preoccupied with stuffing his face to provide a more formal response, a little disappointed that Derek wouldn’t be treating his wounds himself. He was only drawn out of his pizza-fixated haze when Derek clicked on the TV, a Batman movie already queued up on Netflix.

Choking down another mouthful of pizza, Stiles turned to Derek, raising an accusatory brow as he declared, “Y’know, this feels suspiciously like a date.”

“I…” Derek trailed off awkwardly, licking his lips and setting his slice of pizza back down in the box, eyes on his shoes. Scratching his cheek, he reluctantly admitted, “Uh, yeah. That’s kind of what I was going for.”

Stiles stared at him, aghast. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“I’m sorry, it was stupid,” Derek muttered, squeezing his eyes shut while he shook his head, shoulders slumping as he curled in on himself a bit. He opened his mouth, probably to apologize again, but Stiles wasn’t having any of it. He cut off whatever Derek was going to say by pressing their lips together, abandoning his pizza to clumsily scramble into Derek’s lap.

Stiles crashed their lips together without any real finesse, looping his arms around Derek’s neck as he swiped his tongue over Derek’s bottom lip, nipping it a bit. It took a moment for Derek to respond, the hesitation terrifying Stiles until the alpha wound his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulled him in closer.

Reluctantly pulling back from the kiss that he had returned with equal fervor, Derek laid a few kisses to Stiles’ cheek, the curve of his cheek, his cheek. Voice husky and rough as Stiles kissed his stubble-studded throat, he confessed, “So glad Eric stood you up.”

Had it not been for the fact that because Eric had stood him up he was now making out with Derek, Stiles probably would have been offended, but considering the fortuitous turn of events, he couldn’t help but agree. Guiding Derek’s lips back to his own with a firm hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, he concurred, “Me too.”

After a few more heated kisses, Stiles spreading his legs to straddle Derek’s lap more comfortably and Derek’s hands having somehow migrated to under the hem of Stiles’ borrowed shirt, a thought occurred to Stiles. This time, Stiles broke the kiss, preening at the needy whine Derek let out when he did, and joked, “Guess we should send Peter a fruit basket, huh?”

“Please don’t talk about my uncle when we’re making out,” Derek requested, panting a bit against Stiles’ wet lips, a small smirk curling both of their mouths. He swooped back in to scatter a small series of quick kisses to Stiles’ lips, smiling into each and every one.

“So, I guess that’s a no to a threesome, then?” Stiles wondered, pouting in faux disappointment as he rubbed his hand over Derek’s chest, running the pad of his thumb over the row of buttons on the gray Henley that Derek was wearing. Derek responded by throwing his head back and laughing deeply before capturing Stiles’ lips in yet another deep kiss, sure to throw in a bite to his lip and a possessive squeeze of his ass.

Yeah, they were definitely going to send Peter a fruit basket.

[de-constructionsite]

Drunk Dancing

They emerged from the steamy basement and into the cool night. Bodies milled up and down the sidewalk, smoking joints and cigarettes, fiddling with smart phones, kissing and grabbing each other and they wove their way around without drawing any notice and linked up with Allie and Arroya where the crowd dispersed and night began. Terrence walked beside Allie who was connected at the arm to Arroya. Their bodies were warm and wet from dancing, their skin felt chilled in the evening air. Cars screeched past, trunks rumbling and rattling with deafening bass, the growling sounds echoed off the walls of the skyscrapers all around them. Drunken bodies appeared now and again, solo and in pairs and packs, navigating the sidewalk. None of them could find a word to say and so they listened to the night and grew restless in the late night heat. They could think of nothing.

A few blocks north of the diner, it’s big red shimmering sign came into view. J-E-N-S spelt out vertically along the wall of the three-story building. All the apartments above the diner were dark and sleepy.  A larger, louder group of people appeared three blocks ahead passing beneath the red neon sign, parading north with great exuberance towards Terrence and Allie and Arroya. They all merged together a block and a half later, smiling awkwardly, passing with lighthearted greetings in a night of fleeting memories. Allie and Arroya plowed through, linked arm in arm. Terrence passed through the mob behind them bearing a quiet smile as he crossed the final human’s path. She came in to focus beneath the orange streetlight, a blur of bushy brown hair. It was Rosy.

“Oh, fuck,” said Terrence.

Rosy smiled with the warmth of the sun. “Well look who it is,” she said.

All accompanying parties had made the appropriate about faces to figure out what interjection had caused their abrupt halt.

Rosy smirked deviously. Terrence thought of an otter for a moment, only to quickly feel his brain deliquescing down into his spinal column and lungs and his toes tingled and he almost choked on his own spit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he thought, and then spoke. “The wayward one returns home.”

“I’m here,” she said, glancing back at her friends. “I’ll call you, or something,” she told them. “This is an old friend. Is your phone good?”

Another woman in the mob nodded, “yes,” she said. Rosy turned back to Terrence. He shooed off Allie and Arroya.

The night felt crisp. A slight breeze ruffled the trees lining the sidewalks. The streets suddenly felt cavernous and hollow.

She was as Terrence had recalled her, the same short curly brown hair, the same nose, defined and pointed and deep brown, her thick-rimmed spectacles. She wore a white blouse and dark blue skirt that fluttered about her knees like the leaves in the trees.

“Well,” she said. “Let’s find a place to talk.”

And so Terrence walked to the Jen’s, another block away, and unsurprisingly found Arroya and Allie sitting side-by-side in one of the noisy rubber booths. The seats were brilliant red and squeaked when they squirmed about in them. Allie looked at Terrence, utterly baffled, and Terrence looked back at her broad and dumb like, “What was I supposed to do?” and Arroya looked at the white boy thinking “Boy you could have brought her anywhere but here,” and Rosy saw the two girls and recognized them and immediately smiled wide and bright, like the ocean this time. The counter seemed an appropriate place to sit and so he took a stool and Rosy popped a squat beside him.

A waitress set out flimsy plastic menus before them and poured ice water from a pitcher in two red cups. The ice clattered and cracked softly. The waitress left them to examine their menus.

“I almost forgot that last dream,” Terrence said.

Rosy looked at him, still smiling, always smiling. As reliable as the ocean and taxes and death. “Hmm,” she said. “What happened in that dream?”

“Ha. Maybe I’ve overlooked others since then, huh?”

“I’m just kidding. The one out near Sisters. Sylvia. Ya, I remember that one.”

“Feels surreal, seeing you back here. In person, I mean. As opposed to a dream,” he said, to which Rosy could not say a thing. She just sipped from her cup, stared at the wall behind the bar. She was afraid Terrence was about to reach out and touch her arm or something. He wanted to but wouldn’t dare.

The sound of forks and knives clattering on plates filled the room with sharp, metallic chaos. Terrence turned his head and observed Allie with her arm thrown around Arroya. They leaned into one another, hunched over a plate of French fries with greasy fingers and the corners of their lips stained with ketchup.

“Didn’t want to sit with your friends?” she asked. Terrence faced her quickly. She had now averted her attention to the menu, speaking absently, to anyone willing to listen, to anyone able to listen. She still smiled.

Rosy looked back at Allie and Arroya, slunk over each other, feeding one another French fries smothered in cheese and ketchup, and waited for one of them to return her gaze. It was Arroya who first looked up and met Terrence’s gaze and then Rosy’s smile and nodded and laughed. Allie looked up to and immediately knew trouble was afoot.

“They look fun. And preoccupied. We’re probably doing them a favor.”

Terrence just went on staring behind the counter, nodding his head stupidly. Not tonight, he thought. No wine bottle orgies tonight.

The waitress returned and they both shrugged indifferently at her. She offered coffee. They shrugged once more. She took the menus with a sigh and drifted down the counter. Terrence and Rosy sipped their waters.

“Did you want to forget the dream?” “Just the dream?” Terrence said, swept with great caprice, his lungs sucked empty of air, his toes tingling once more  He pinched his nose. “No. The dream was a respite from everything else I guess. I’m glad I’ve got that to hold on to. I’d have to go way back in time to find something worth forgetting. Something to forget about that might actually make a difference.”

“Wow,” Rosy said. She finally gave him a glance, mid-sigh, for a split second, before looking back at the stupid, purple, coffee ring-stained counter top. “That was quite a thought you had there.” She rolled her eyes and the smile returned after a sub-momentary absence.

Terrence too was a bit astounded by his exposure and could only sigh and assume attention at the space right in front of him.

“Do you want to forget me?” Rosy asked.

Again, something ruptured inside of him. But this time it stung violently, radiating first in that gut, and then spreading into his neck and cranium. He was being hollowed out, drained at the thought, and so he inhaled air and then took a sip of water. When he looked to his left Rosy’s eyes were waiting.

“What do you have brewing over there?” Terrence asked. She held her water cup to her face and bit into it, humming quietly.

“Come on now! What are you doing popping up like this, and in my dreams! Sending me strange letters. I like you and all, but you need to clue me into what all is going on, what I’m getting dragged into.”

Rosy looked a little alarmed. Terrence spun around to look for his friends. Allie and Arroya were gone; the half-eaten tray of fries the only evidence of their presence. A server bussed the table. It would be filled in a few minutes.

“I don’t like feeling oblivious. Like my own life is out of my control,” Terrence said.

“When is it ever in your control though?”

“Look I can relinquish control, I’m not a control freak, but I’m not diving headfirst into a pool that I don’t know how deep it is.”

“You’re missing the whole point,” she said.

“I’m going to need something more concrete then.”

“Well…” Rosy said. She had acquired a napkin. She was tearing it to tiny little pieces. She bit her lip. She was making Terrence anxious. “You don’t have any control. Ever. I think that’s all there really is to it.”And so Terrence rolled his eyes right back at Rosy, cause he couldn’t help but roll his eyes with all the nausea“Give me a break,” he said. “Then what are you doing, going on some foreseen mission, a fate you’ve seen. How do you know how this is going to go?”

“I never said I knew how this was going to go.”

“Oh my god,”

“Do you want something concrete or not? I don’t have any control over this. Maybe I have some clues, a lead. But, it’s nothing, really. Just a hint. A trail to follow. Like a horse after a hot dog, or whatever.”

And Terrence felt himself quake violently from the inside. He looked up for the waitress, as if he had a bill to close and Rosy fell solemn and silent with sunk shoulders to the bottom of the sea. She looked at the pile of tiny tissue papers before her, lightly lifting and dropping the useless bits. She spoke.

“I can see some things coming. Once in awhile. Usually just for myself. Sometimes others. Sometimes they come true, sometimes I see moments come and go, staged exactly as they were in my vision, but one split second changes and the reality continues on, new, random. Sometimes I set myself up in preparation and this has proven to be both very beneficial and completely pointless. Some things, I have to pursue. You can imagine, right? I know I can’t bend and mold fate to my will but if there’s a chance, why wouldn’t I? When it’s too good to pass up., at least.”

And the ensuing silence was sharp and empty. The void of what had once been forks and knives was now the slurps of coffees and shuffle of tables being cleared. A few folks chomped through final bits of pancakes, fried eggs, cold coffee. Terrence’s water was empty, so was Rosy’s. He desperately wanted to be gone from the diner.

“You don’t have to come down there with me,” she said. “If you want to forget me, move on, whatever. I’m not very reliable. I don’t blame you. You’re really nice though!” Terrence cringed noticeably, she touched his shoulder and everything inside of him went to knots. “And you’re probably going to end up there, anyway.”

Her words pulled all those knots tight around each other in his guts and intestines and his shoulders sunk to the bottom of the sea too“Just trying to warn you,”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Terrence said.

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic & Tails: Beyond the Stars - Chapter 4-5 Interlude

The Will to Act

Ambience filled the air of a cold laboratory, filled to the brim with countless deranged experiments still in progress. A dark blue hue encompassed the facility, and only the beeping of computers and the flowing of liquids cancelled out the silence. That is, until the high-tech gate marking the entrance opened suddenly, and in walked Dr. Eggman. The lights immediately switched on, though the inherent darkness of the surroundings was still prevalent. He still had a grin on his face, and his swagger remained confident as he walked. His diminutive lackeys followed right behind their master.

"Sir, aren't you at least a LITTLE concerned that the Wraith failed to defeat them...?" Orbot asked, though he knew the doctor would brush him off before he even got his answer.

"Bah!" Eggman scoffed, as he walked up to a large metallic table with blueprint papers. "If you worry over every little setback, you'd never get anything done. That's something I've learned over the years. You gotta roll with the punches if you want the last laugh."

He then took out a single grey crystal, evidently one of the crystals from Zephyr Mountain he managed to get away with. He examined it closely... He seemed to be able to sense the power within just by holding it, as he let out a heavy exhale through gritted teeth.

"Oh yes..." he paused, before putting the crystal down onto the table. His body crouched slightly, perhaps overwhelmed by what he just experienced. "I can feel it... right through the course of my veins... It feels... amazing... This will be so good when everything's done."

"So uh, what do these pretty crystals do, exactly?" asked Cubot. "They for a Christmas tree or somethin'?"

Eggman wordlessly glared at the robot for his inadequate levels of awareness. "No... they have a much greater purpose." He pointed at one of his papers, which included a sketch of two crystals. One grey, the other fully colored.

"The crystals we have now can already achieve great things. They can power my creations to new heights, and give them amazing strength. But these ones... " He placed his finger on the drawing of the colored crystal. "...are twice as much. No, ten times as much. These crystals are the ones with the most remnants of the Ethereal Zone's power on this planet. With them, one can control the elements, and maybe even more..."

"But if that's true, why are you looking for the Ethereal Zone itself?" Orbot questioned, while Cubot scratched his cuboid cranium. "Surely the crystals would be enough to satisfy your proverbial hunger?"

"It's about climbing the scale, idiot," Eggman sneered arrogantly, complete with a clench of his fist. "With these crystals, we get those crystals, and with THOSE crystals, we get closer to finding the Zone."

"And what about the Chao?" the round robot asked again, as he mildly fidgeted.

"They're still a priority as well. I wouldn't waste time capturing them if they weren't." The doctor snapped his fingers, and pointed at both of his minions. "So I expect the two of you to investigate where Sonic and his annoying friends could have taken them, and where else there could be more Chao."

"You got it, boss!" Cubot gave a hearty salute, and pulled Orbot close to him, much to the latter's chagrin. "When you feel you're gonna sob, Orbot and Cubot are on the job!" With that, he dashed out of the laboratory in seconds, dragging a distressed Orbot by the hand all the while. The scientist stood there for a brief moment, before shrugging to himself in resigned annoyance.

"I'll do it myself later, they'll probably screw it up somehow. But first..."

He picked up the grey crystal again, and this time he walked over to a row of test tubes, all of which were filled with a mysterious green liquid. Silhouettes of different sizes and shapes could be seen in each of them, but one test tube in particular caught his attention. With a growing grin, he pressed one of the buttons on the panel beside the tube, and slowly, the liquid began to clear away. The silhouette from within was still obscured ever so slightly by the shadows, but even those who weren't the mad doctor himself would know straight away what was in that tube. Sonic certainly would.

"Wakey wakey," Eggman called out in a sinister sing-song voice. He showed the crystal, and shook it a little, like a parent interacting with their own baby. "I've got a little present for you, son. Fancy settling your little vendetta with the fake once and for all...?"

Immediately after he asked, a pair of red rings sprung to life where its eyes would be...

---

"So what do you think Eggman wants the crystals for?"

"Dunno. Maybe he wants them to give that monster more power... Or maybe they're for some other weapon, like a laser cannon or something."

"Oh, like the Eclipse Cannon?"

"Well, he's tried some things more than once before, hasn't he?" The hedgehog shrugged. "How many Death Eggs has he had again?"

Tails and Sonic continued to debate the motivations for Eggman's crystal hunt as they made their way back from Zephyr Valley to Lutrudis' castle. Lutrudis herself was walking beside them, with her hands behind her back, listening to her friends' chatter while she looked around at the beautiful scenery presented by the valley. Her mind appeared to be elsewhere...

"You ever think Eggman will give up some day?" Sonic asked half-jokingly.

"I think we already know that'll never happen," Tails answered with a light chuckle.

"But he's done everything to try and win!" Sonic pantomimed dramatically with his hands. "He's sicced Chaos! He's tore the planet apart! He's disrupted the flow of time and space! And he STILL can't beat us!" He grinned knowingly. "And you wanna know why?"

"Why?"

He suddenly brought Tails close to him and gave him a soft noogie. "Because he'll never be as awesome as us!"

"Aww, come on, not in front of Lutrudis!" Tails laughed sheepishly, trying his hardest to cease the noogie. Lutrudis herself let out a small giggle at the sight of Sonic's antics.

None of them noticed the top hat-donning robot hiding away through the trees. The robot's hands continued to move erratically, as it spied on the heroic trio walking through the display of vibrant vegetation.

"You may be certain about that for now," it whispered to itself in a feminine voice. "But in time, you will surely bow... ~hmm hmm hmm~..." It vanished in another puff of fancy smoke, leaving as quickly as it appeared once again.

"Listen, guys," Lutrudis spoke up, having decided to bring up what was on her mind. "I've... had an idea I've been going back and forth on. It's about the crystals."

"Oh?" Sonic let go of Tails, and the fox regained his composure. "What kind of idea are we talking about?" Sonic pondered.

The horse rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, and her eyes glanced over to the ground at her side. "It's probably a silly idea, but... Suppose we were to fight fire with fire..."

"You mean... to use the crystals ourselves?" Tails correctly sussed. His tails swished at the mention of this prospect.

"Heh, close. You guys are probably fine as it is. But I had an idea involving... well, myself." She pointed her thumb at her back, which her trusty bow was currently tied to.

Sonic raised an eyebrow at the implications, though he trusted that his friend knew what she planned on doing.

"Well, lead us the way, Trudy."

---

After having returned to the castle, they immediately went back to the cavern underneath it. While Sonic went down the rocky steps like the previous time, Tails was generous enough to simply fly Lutrudis down to the cave, having remembered her struggle with steep steps. When they went inside the cavern, it looked exactly as it did last time, as rustic yet radiant as ever. The crystals once again gleamed heavenly, in all their multitude of colours to choose from.

"So..." Sonic started, curious as to what the horse had in mind.

Lutrudis motioned with her finger to halt Sonic's words, indicating non-verbally that all will be explained. She walked up to a wall in the cavern, and with her other hand on her hip, she casually tapped it thrice with the back of her fist. Right on cue, a bunch of ropes came down from the roof, each of them holding onto what appeared to be plushies based on Eggman's Egg Pawns. Sonic and Tails looked at each other in surprise at this sight.

Then, Lutrudis looked at a selection of crystals beside her. Each of them were glowing, and pulsating with the mysterious power they still hadn't quite learned the full story of. Slowly, very slowly, after a brief moment of hesitance, she put her hand on a red crystal. She closed her eyes as she took a moment to exhale deeply through her nostrils, having felt its unexplained heat. Once she was ready, she opened her eyes once more, and gently plucked the crystal out of the ground.

Sonic's quills straightened up slightly, and he and Tails looked at their friend in concern, uncertain as to what she was about to do. Nonetheless, they let her continue, knowing she was far from careless.

Without a word, she pulled out one of her arrows, and slowly pulled the tip of it off. After a few seconds of her glancing between the now-incomplete arrow, and the crystal itself, she carefully placed the crystal where the tip of the arrow once was. It was inserted onto the arrow with little issue.

"Woah," Tails muttered in surprise.

Lutrudis grabbed her bow in one hand, with the new, specialised arrow in the other, and she turned her head in the direction of her two friends. She motioned towards the entrance to the cave, to which they understood immediately and backed up so they were further away. They clearly understood she wouldn't want there to be an arrow in someone's eye if something went wrong.

Still perfectly silent, she took her time to put herself into position, as she stared down one of the hanging Egg Pawn targets. She closed one eye, and got her bow and arrow ready. She could still feel the intense heat of the red crystal by being so close to it. A light bit of sweat went down her forehead. But she didn't budge. She was ready... She aimed...

The hedgehog and fox closed their eyes, and crouched in anticipation...

FWOOOOM

Sonic opened his eyes abruptly at the noise he just heard. He couldn't see any arrow through his body, much to his own relief. He nudged Tails with his elbow, to which the younger one opened his own eyes in response. When they looked at Lutrudis, they couldn't believe their eyes. She stared at the Egg Pawn plush... or what remained of it, as it had almost completely burned apart due to the crystal that remained stuck in its chest.

"Holy..." Sonic stopped himself, before Tails could hear. "That's some Blaze business right there..."

Lutrudis still said nothing. There was little emotion on her face as she looked at the burnt Pawn... but something was clicking in her eyes. She went to the closest selection of crystals again, and this time, she picked out a blue one. She repeated what she did last time. Took an arrow, pulled the tip off, replaced it with the crystal. Her body mildly shivered, as the coolness of this crystal was a palpable contrast to the warmth of the previous one. Once again, she prepared herself to aim at another hanging Pawn, and when she felt ready, she fired away.

CCCLLLIIISSSHHH

Another direct hit... but instead of burning up, this one was inexplicably frozen in an appropriately sized ice cube.

"Nice...!" Sonic muttered out loud, with an impressed grin on his face. Tails was similarly amazed by what he was seeing.

She decided to try out one more. She looked at yellow crystals, green crystals, among all colours upon colours... Her eyes stopped upon noticing a purple one. Its glow was significantly darker, more dimmer than the rest... and almost as black as the night itself. Despite showing even more hesitance than the previous two examples, she put her lingering fears aside and carefully plucked out the purple one, and repeated the process once more. This one didn't feel hot or cold. Instead, it felt... strange. She couldn't pinpoint what it made her feel. She aimed, braced herself...

But neither she nor her friends could have predicted what this one would do...

WWWHHHOOOOOOSSSHHH

Everyone's eyes were wide in complete and utter bafflement. Lutrudis in particular looked enormously dumbfounded. Did that Pawn just get... sucked into a void? She looked to her side at another purple crystal, and then looked back at where the Pawn once was. The look on her face remained the same. She was completely puzzled, and possibly aghast.

Sonic and his little bro went closer to the green equine, still full of shock themselves. All three of them had trouble getting a single word out of their mouths. Even for as much as they already knew, they had no idea the crystals were capable of that much power.

"Well..." Lutrudis tugged on her ponytail nervously, and let out an embarrassed chuckle. "This would be quite awkward if my aiming stunk."

"Trudy, this is... this is incredible! And kind of terrifying... We've GOT to show this to Amy and Cream!" Sonic looked again at where the Pawn was before it got whisked away by an actual, literal void. "No wonder Eggman's after these things!"

"But if nothing else, they sure do look as though they could come in helpful," Tails added. "Although, surely you'd run out of crystals eventu-"

Before Tails could even finish his spoken thought, a brand new red crystal popped out of the ground, exactly in the previous red crystal's place. Likewise, a new blue crystal emerged from the ground in its place, and a new purple one came to fill its own. Tails' jaw hanged low. Sonic simply whistled in amazement.

"Oh yeah, that's another thing," Lutrudis smiled coyly, as she tilted her head and swung her leg back and forth while leaning on the other. She clasped her hands. "It's not a finite resource. If you take one, another takes its place."

"Man..." Sonic stroked his left quill, still dazzled at what his friend could do with these abnormal jewels. He was far from a stranger to them. He's seen and used the Chaos Emeralds who knows how many times. He's seen the Sol Emeralds. He's seen the Master Emerald. He's seen the Time Stones. He's seen the Phantom Ruby.

But none of them were so prominently... multi-purpose in their specific capabilities. The rest would boost your power, distort time, create illusions, but these crystals had a whole slew of bells and whistles. And is it possible that they could stack up? If this was what they had to offer, what on earth could the Ethereal Zone itself be capable of...?

It was a scary thought for the Blue Blur. On one hand, he was glad he had a compadre who could use them effectively. On the other hand, Eggman would be able to do so much in so little time if he got his hands on them. And since it's an apparently limitless resource, he'd never run out of that power...

"So... was the sheer level of power why you were hesitant about this?" Tails asked while he rubbed his ear.

"Well, it's one of the reasons," Lutrudis sat down on the nearest rock, and put both of her hands to her sides. She crossed the ankles of her boots. "They say power corrupts and all, and I'd like to believe I'm more responsible than an entitled manchild with the nose to match."

"You already are," Sonic chuckled softly.

"But talking of Eggman... I've been a little morally conflicted about it," the horse admitted.

"How come?" Tails questioned.

Lutrudis glanced at the crystals all around her, before she looked at her friends' faces, visibly unsure of herself. "I want to do everything I can to help, and I really mean that. But... If I used the crystals this way... would that make me no different from the likes of him? You know, using a powerful natural resource for one's own benefit... would that not make me just as contemptible as him, and others like him...?"

"Trudy, pal, it's not the same thing at all, believe me." Sonic sat beside her, and put an arm around her back, much to the horse's surprise. "Eggman only cares about power, and nothing but power. That's all he ever wants... that and maybe my head on a pike. When he uses shiny magical doodads, it's for the purest of selfish reasons, to appeal to his own ego at the expense of others... Trudy, I may have not known you for long, but I already know you're not like that. Not one bit. Heck, unlike half of my other friends, we didn't even fight after an easily avoidable misunderstanding!"

"Your reasons for using these crystals are perfectly benevolent," Tails continued along, with a comforting smile. "You want to help protect our world, to give our fellow people peace and security, instead of taking it away from them... you and Eggman couldn't by any more different with your intentions."

Sonic pointed his thumb at himself, with the characteristic smirk to match. "I've used the Chaos Emeralds to fight big bad monsters and giant scrap piles for years. Don't see me going full Egghead, do you?"

Lutrudis looked at one of the crystals behind Sonic's position, before exchanging eyesight with him once more. Her demeanour relaxed. "No," she smiled tenderly. "I suppose not."

"Uh, sorry to interrupt the scene guys, but..."

The three of them were immediately alert at the sound of a new voice entering the scene. It didn't sound at all like Eggman, thankfully, but it was also too gruff to be Amy or Cream... and masculine.

"We would just like to talk with Sonic," another voice piped up. It sounded younger than the first voice, but it too was gruff, and definitely male. "Your friends told us you were down here."

"Those crystals are so PRETTY!!!!" a third voice shouted enthusiastically. The pitch was notably higher with this one. "Can we take one? Pleeeaaase???"

"Quiet already, sheesh!"

Sonic breathed a sigh of relief, as he soon recognised their identities before he even saw their shadowed figures. "Oh, it's just you guys, the... what are you guys called again?"

"The Chaotix Detective Agency," Vector the Crocodile announced with pride as he entered their field of vision. "At your service, sirs and madam!"

Sonic and Tails exchanged blank looks with each other. Lutrudis merely waved awkwardly at the newest face.

---

Back to Chapter 4...

To Chapter 5...