#quill's badly edited picture

[quills-andplums]

fellas, give me your thoughts, is this okay?

[malfoys-demigod]

Favorite Quill - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: After losing your favorite quill by accident, Draco makes the Holiday right with a surprise. 

Tagging @the--queen-of-hell​ <3 

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this fluff! 

One week until Winter Break. One more week until most students can go home, spending the Holidays with their respective families whom they have not seen in months. One more week until some students can finally have the castle to themselves as they spend a quiet little winter break alone at Hogwarts. 

What did everyone have to go through before Winter Break, though?

Quarterly exams. 

It was that awful week before the Winter Break where everyone would have to set their minds on studying mode instead of thinking about what presents they might receive during the holidays. 

People like Hermione Granger did not have a problem with that. She was part of those few people who were excited to take their quarterly exams as they were more prepared than ever. However, her friends Harry and Ron were part of the other set of people who just want to be done with the quarterly exams even if they did horrible in it. 

You on the other hand, was somewhere in the middle between these sets of people. Sure, you wanted so badly to take the Hogwarts Express train and see your parents as soon as possible. You haven’t seen them in months and being in their presence would really be glad to feel. But at the same time, you’ve been doing well with your academics that there was this feeling of confidence in you that you would ace your exams. 

One of those reasons why you can’t wait to take the exams was because of your favorite quill. 

You weren’t exactly superstitious, (maybe a little stitious - please get that Office reference) but you considered your favorite quill to be a lucky charm that you possessed. 

What exactly made it your lucky charm? Well it all started when you and your parents were in Diagon Alley.

It was that week before your first year at Hogwarts that your parents brought you to the famous Diagon Alley to buy your school supplies. Robes? Check. Wand? Check. Books? Check. Everything else was going well until seeing that one perfect quill by the other side of the street made everything perfect. Before leaving the alley, you couldn’t help but notice the simple yet white glowing quill, presented in the glass window of the shop across you. 

You tugged your father’s coat, signaling that you wanted to enter the quill shop before you all left for home. The moment you went inside, you made a beeline to the quill and felt the smoothness of its feather as you watched the white creamy color hollow in your eyes. 

The teller of the store went around to see you, infatuated with the quill. “Limited edition, very unique.” He spoke. He was explaining how there were only 7 models made for that very edition. One of each sent that to the 7 continents in the world and you were just lucky to have one of them sitting in a store in Diagon Alley. 

Your parents were fortunate enough to hear the story of the quill that they said, “How about we buy that, sweetheart?” It was a speechless moment for you as you were extremely overjoyed considering any child would be up in the moons if they hear their parents allowing them to get what they want. 

With that quill, you were always determined to do your best in your academics. Whether it be simply taking down notes, writing an essay, or taking exams, you always had your favorite quill with you, acting as that lucky charm every year. 

Draco of course knew this story. He was first curious to why you were infatuated with a quill. He first saw you during your first year by the library, writing an essay with a happy face. 

“Aren’t we happy to be writing an essay today, Y/L/N?” he approached you, standing up so confidently as he stood beside your chair. 

Usually you’d reply with a snarky remark just like him but you surprisingly smiled warmly and began talking about the story of your favorite quill. 

Draco too was a little surprised that there was no snarky remark but a pleasant story. “Well that’s quite a story you’ve got there, Y/L/N,” he gave a small smile and nod as he walked away. 

Now years later in the present time, you were having another year of winter break exams. There was nothing to be worried about as you were prepared and equipped with your favorite quill. 

It was the morning of the last day of examinations. One more day until you could pack your things and see your parents. 

You were in the Great Hall having your morning cup of pumpkin juice with Pansy, Blaise, and Theodore. Pansy was discussing her potions notes with Theodore while Blaise was teasing you about your obsession with your quill. 

“I don’t understand how that could be a lucky charm, Y/N. All you need is to be prepared with your studies and have a go with the test. No quill can magically show you the answers,” he teased. 

Pouting, you smacked him in the arm as he drank his juice. “Nonsense, Blaise! Don’t even bother as to what the muggles say, ‘jinx’ my luck.” 

Before Blaise could playfully roll his eyes, Draco entered the Great Hall nonchalantly as his eyes were on you. He hooked an arm on you as he sat down and gave you a kiss on the cheeks. “Morning, love.”

“Ready for the last day of exams, Dray?” 

“Actually, I was actually wondering if I could use your quill today,” he nervously asked, “I know you barely lend your quills to anyone, even me, but I really would love to ace my potions examinations before the day ends.”

Hesitant at first, you raised your eyebrows jokingly as you watched Draco use his secret puppy dog eyes on you with a pout in the end. 

“Promise you’ll give it back at the end of the day?,” you asked. Of course you would lend him your favorite quill. He was probably the only person you would lend your quill to. 

Draco planted many small kisses on around your face as a sigh of many thanks. Pulling out your quill from your sling bag, you looked at Draco with a serious face as you slowly and carefully lent your quill to him. 

“See you at the end of the day, sweetheart.” 

“With my quill.” 

— 

Draco felt a wave of relief in his body as he found you sitting in the common room reading the Daily Prophet. He dropped his bags and jogged towards the couch. “There you are, darling! I was looking all over for you,” he sighed. 

You didn’t mind Draco’s existence as he was standing, towering behind you while you calmly sat on the couch, continuing your reading. 

Unfortunately he was still standing behind you, waiting for a response from you as he brushed your hair with his fingers. 

“Go away,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m still not talking to you.” 

“Are you serious,” he asked, “you’re still angry at me?”

Angrily standing up, you threw the newspaper onto the floor and turned around to face a scared Draco. “Of course I’m bloody angry! It was only this afternoon that you lost my quill! I honestly don’t know how you can lose my quill in a castle we live in everyday!” 

“It’s a big castle, Y/N.” 

“Not helping at all!” 

You went to your dorm room and got a hold of your baggage and started making your way outside of the common room. 

Draco was still standing outside by the couches, placing a hand on his forehead. When his eyes met yours, he ran towards you, holding your forearm to prevent you from moving. 

“What.” 

“I’m sorry. You know that.”

“I’ll see you after the holiday. Quill-less.” Being the nice person you were, you planted a small peck on the cheek and removed his hand off from you and left the common room. 

Draco gave a small sad smile, looking down at the floor. His heels turned around and made a beeline towards the couch where you stormed off. He couldn’t help but notice tonight’s newspaper you were reading. 

There was a big advertisement on the last page located in the lower right side of the page. “Limited edition quills from around the world: coming straight to England for the auction of the year.” Then in the bottom of the message was a picture of the exact same quill that you had owned. This was fate! Draco couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“Thank Merlin,” he muttered to himself. Even though he too was going home to Malfoy Manor to see his parents for the holiday, he still owled a letter to his father regarding the limited edition quill that was coming it’s way to England. “-must obtain it as soon as possible.” he lettered to his father. 

Of course this was Lucius Malfoy he was lettering to. Of course it would be obtained as soon as possible and when one says as soon as possible like the Malfoy’s, they mean in a span of three days. One day for Lucius to arrange a spot for the auction, a second day for the actual purchasing in the auction, and a third day for Draco to surprise you with the quill. 

He wasn’t going to come over to your house and present himself with the quill. No, he was absolutely more dramatic than that. In fact, he had already established a plan the minute he stepped foot on Hogwarts express on the way home. How did it go? Well, since this is Draco Malfoy, it went as dramatic as it can be. 

When Lucius came home with the quill, there lay Draco by the steps of the Manor as he finally watched his father apparated from the auction. Of course there were plenty of questions from Lucius considering how troubled Draco sounded from the letter. 

When Draco finally explained what had happened with you, Lucius scoffed in return, slightly scolding Draco for doing this to the love of his life. “You better come back with an accomplished task, Draco. I expect that my trip to the auction was for something worth doing. I do not want to hear how you’ve broken her heart more,” Lucius demanded from his son, who was nodding nervously. 

Draco hurried back upstairs to continue his plan. He started using your quill to write you a letter. A letter which contained him apologizing and stating his love for you. Along with the letter came the quill he finished writing with, the one he had his father auction for. He wrapped the quill in a gift box and had the owl send it to your house, as he dressed up in a fresh new black suit, along with flowers to apparate to your house. 

So there you were, warming yourself by the fireplace that was located in your living room. You were sipping your favorite hot chocolate drink, indulging in it until suddenly, a familiar owl stood by the slightly open windows in your living room. 

‘Is that Draco’s owl?,’ you wondered. Standing up, you were met with a gift box, a green one that was wrapped with white ribbons. Attached to the box was a letter that had a “M” stamped on it. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Of course. 

You could not wait so instead of reading the letter like what most people would do, you set the letter aside and started unwrapping the box with curiousness. You were taken by surprise when you finally saw what was in the box. The exact quill your boyfriend Draco had lost during the week before winter break started. Before tearing up, Draco’s owl somehow signaled you into opening the letter. 

‘-I hope you aren’t upset with me using your quill to write you this letter.

With all my love, 

D.M.’ 

Those were the last things written in the letter as you started shedding a tear. Looking at the quill, you were taken back at the mesmerizing glow of its color, as if it was the first time you laid eyes on it, exactly like the day you first saw its other model when you were 11 years old. 

Before you could cry even more, there was a voice from the back who spoke. 

“Don’t cry, my love. You know it pains me to see you cry.” 

Turning around, you saw Draco Malfoy, holding up a bouquet of your favorite flowers with a small smile on his face. “Hello, love,” he spoke again. 

Your body crashed strongly with his as you wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing quietly. “I’m sorry,” you said. 

“For what? I should be the one saying that.” 

“I’m sorry for lashing out on you that day.”

“Hush, my dear. You had every right to. That was your favorite thing in the world. I’m sure you love that more than me,” he said playfully. 

“Of course not, Dray. But how did you get it? There’s only a few editions of those in the entire world? Don’t tell me it’s fake!,” you said, pulling away from him with an eyebrow raised at him.

“Nonsense, you know I only give you the best. In fact, that came internationally. I had my father hear about this and he auctioned for it. But I found out about it.,” he said confidently. 

“It must have taken a lot to purchase that.”

“Like I said dear, I only want to give you the best. “ 

“Aw.” 

“Now, why don’t we spend our day staring at this glorious crafted item the exact way you did with your old one?” he said with a smirk.

[handeaux]

Mark Twain Feuded With The Cincinnati Enquirer (Guess Who Won?)

Samuel Langhorne Clemens, aka Mark Twain, was a formidable presence in American letters for most of his adult life. He was known for his stiletto-sharp wit, his tectonic temper and his incapacity to suffer fools. It would take, in other words, a complete buffoon to heckle Mark Twain.

That would be the Cincinnati Enquirer.

In 1870, the Enquirer or, rather, an anonymous columnist writing for the Cincinnati Enquirer, called Mark Twain a liar and, son, them’s fightin’ words.

It all began when the English Saturday Review got hold of a copy of Twain’s humorous travelogue, “Innocents Abroad” and published a review on 8 October 1870. The critic, although apparently open to the idea that Twain is pulling his leg, ultimately reviews to book as if it was written in dead earnest. For example:

“In presence of the ancients he generally indulges in facetiousness of a rather low order. He goes, for example, to some amphitheatre and tries to realize the scene which it once presented. His most vivid picture is that of a Roman youth, who took ‘some other fellow's young lady’ to a gladiatorial show and amused her and himself during the acts by ‘approaching the cage and stirring up the martyrs with his whalebone cane.’ But, to say the truth, Mr. Twain here verges upon buffoonery.”

Twain did not subscribe to the London magazine, but a squib about this review, published in the Boston Daily Advertiser [22 October 1870], including the line:

“We can imagine the delight of the humorist in reading this tribute to his power, and indeed it is so amusing in itself that he can hardly do better than reproduce the article in full in his next monthly Memoranda.”

“Memoranda” was the name of a column Twain contributed to The Galaxy, a Boston literary magazine edited by Twain himself. Based only on the brief article in the Boston Advertiser, Twain did exactly that. However, instead of reprinting the original Saturday Review article, Twain recreated it out of whole cloth, imagining a review that took “Innocents Abroad” even more seriously that the British reviewer. Here is Twain himself, imitating an English critic, in the December 1870 issue of The Galaxy:

“To say that the Innocents Abroad is a curious book, would be to use the faintest language—would be to speak of the Matterhorn as a neat elevation or of Niagara as being ‘nice' or ‘pretty.’ ‘Curious’ is too tame a word wherewith to describe the imposing insanity of this work.”

The fake English critic (i.e. Twain) tilted at all of Twain’s comic windmills, with almost audible tut-tuts popping from his prose:

“In Florence, he was so annoyed by beggars that he pretends to have seized and eaten one in a frantic spirit of revenge. There is, of course, no truth in this. He gives at full length a theatrical programme seventeen or eighteen hundred years old, which he professes to have found in the ruins of the Coliseum, among the dirt and mould and rubbish. It is a sufficient comment upon this statement to remark that even a cast-iron programme would not have lasted so long under such circumstances.”

In the very next issue of The Galaxy, Twain confessed in full, admitting that he, himself, had written the alleged review:

“I stand guilty of the authorship of the article, but I did not mean any harm. I saw by an item in the Boston Advertiser that a solemn, serious critique on the English edition of my book had appeared in the London Saturday Review, and the idea of such a literary breakfast by a stolid, ponderous British ogre of the quill was too much for a naturally weak virtue, and I went home and burlesqued it—revelled in it, I may say. I never saw a copy of the real Saturday Review criticism until after my burlesque was written and mailed to the printer.”

Here is where the Cincinnati Enquirer enters the picture. On Saturday, 17 December  1870, an anonymous columnist in the Enquirer accused Mark Twain of lying about his parody review:

“Mark Twain at last sees that the Saturday Review's criticism of his Innocents Abroad was not serious, and he is intensely mortified at the thought of having been so badly sold. He takes the only course left him, and in the last Galaxy claims that he wrote the criticism himself, and published it in The Galaxy to sell the public. This is ingenious, but unfortunately it is not true. If any of our readers will take the trouble to call at this office we will show them the original article in the Saturday Review of October 8th, which, on comparison, will be found to be identical with the one published in The Galaxy. The best thing for Mark to do will be to admit that he was sold, and say no more about it.”

Anyone familiar with Samuel Langhorne Clemens, aka Mark Twain, will understand that  the man was constitutionally incapable of saying no more about it. Twain fired back:

“If any man doubts my word now, I will kill him. No, I will not kill him; I will win his money. I will bet him twenty to one, and let any New York publisher hold the stakes, that the statements I have above made as to the authorship of the article in question are entirely true.”

If the Cincinnati Enquirer did not get the message, Twain itemized the magnitude of his wager and established the rules for claiming the winnings:

“If the Enquirer people, through any agent, will produce at The Galaxy office a London Saturday Review of October 8th, containing an article which, on comparison, will be found to be identical with the one published in The Galaxy, I will pay to that agent five hundred dollars cash. Moreover, if at any specified time I fail to produce at the same place a copy of the London Saturday Review of October 8th, containing a lengthy criticism upon the Innocents Abroad, entirely different, in every paragraph and sentence, from the one I published in The Galaxy, I will pay to the Enquirer agent another five hundred dollars cash.”

It was time to put up or shut up and the Enquirer wisely decided to shut up. Not a word about Mark Twain’s veracity ever appeared again on the pages of the Grey Lady of Vine Street.

Twain eventually published his version of the whole kerfuffle in an essay titled “An Entertaining Article.” Thanks to the Internet Archive, Google Books, the Library of Congress and the Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton County you, yourself, can access all of the original source materials to decide for yourself. In the end, you may or may not agree with Twain’s conclusion:

“I think the Cincinnati Enquirer must be edited by children.”

[cheesebongdynasty]

Some perspective for y’all haters (both of you):

“Responsible for Ultron (list includes all people pictured):

Personally worked with Ultron: 

Reasons:

(Misplaced) Revenge, (Presumable) Hydra indoctrination 

Wanting to save the world (post telepathic mindfuck) 

....easily manipulated? (Post telepathic mindfuck) 

Backgrounds (prior to telepathic mind-fucks)

Traumatized and Brainwashed Kid:

As a child, saw parents blown up, spent days staring at missle with “Stark” written on it waiting for it to kill her and her brother; “signed up for” Hydra (probably before age 18); wanted “revenge” on Stark and Avengers; (knowledge of Stark and Avengers not really clarified, but likely influenced by Hydra indoctrination.) 

Still pretty much a “kid” by “Ultron.”

Traumatized and Mentally Ill Adult, Who Already Built AIs and Saved the World Successfully Before:  

Parental neglect; orphaned at 21 (at this point, thinks dad killed mom with his driving); “saw young Americans killed by the very weapons designed to protect them;” tortured in a cave, forced to help guys who killed those young Americans; saw mentor die; fatal disease; wormhole-induced PTSD (on top of obvious other disorders); saw lover tortured because of him, then saw her “die” when he failed to catch her; has built at least three successful A.I; saved planet at least once; shown “worst fear” right before making Ultron.

Traumatized Mentally Ill Adult, With Self-Trust Issues:  Hulk accident and condition; lost relationship with girlfriend (probably due  to this); years in isolation; guilt over destruction (and probably deaths) caused as Hulk; shown a telepathic mind-fuck that caused him to Hulk out and rampage a civilian town, right before making Ultron. 

Helped Defeat Ultron: 

Owned Up To Ultron: 

Realizes “this is all because of me” at seeing city attacked, switches sides;  guilt complex a major character trait in following movies

“Ultron, my fault;” signs Accords and donates a fuckton of money to college kids over Ultron guilt

“Only when I’ve created a murder-bot!” First to own up to Ultron, right after the fact. (Interesting fact: spent two years as the Hulk after Ultron incident. Food for thought.) 

Responsible for Vision (the guy able to lift Thor’s hammer, who killed Ultron):

Faced Legal Action for Ultron: 

Faced Legal Action for Anything Before the Sokovia Accords: 

Irony

Relationships After Ultron:

Spats “You locked me in my room!” and otherwise has no negative words for Tony Stark; was willing to stay “locked in her room” until Hawkeye convinced her otherwise; only person on the Raft not to say anything to Tony;

(looks either ashamed, or too angry to face him, or both, open to interpretation);  in “Infinity War,” wants Vision to keep his word to Tony Stark; is visibly upset at news Tony Stark went missing up in the alien spacecraft.

(Note: Wanda has directly seen, and influenced, Tony’s space-phobia, plus her aforementioned guilt complex.) 

Calls Wanda a “WMD,” otherwise has no insults for her; wants to keep her in the mansion for her own “protection;” talks like a scolding parent during airport fight (”Wanda I think you hurt Vision’s feelings” “First of all, that’s an exaggeration, second, I did that for your protection.”) Looks guilty AF when seeing Wanda in straight jacket on Raft; helps Cap break Wanda and others out of Raft prison by ignoring Ross’s call; lets Vision and Wanda have secret affair, keeps their secret for them.

Tells Wanda “I could kill you without turning a shade of green” recently after mindfuck; after returning to Earth two or three years later, has no negative words, facial expressions or hand gestures for her; hugs Tony immediately upon reuniting with him. 

"Civil War” 

Tony: Told he “murdered” a civilization woman’s son; signed Accords out of guilt; baffled by Cap’s actions; but for some reason, fails (along with the rest of his team) to ask Cap WTF is going on; blackmails/technically kidnapps underage with super-strength to help arrest Team Cap (none of whom, until this point, were the kind of person who would toss a truck at anyone), gives Spidey extra-protective new suit, tells Spidey to keep his distance and sends him home as soon as he’s hurt; sees BFF paralyzed; blasts an apologizing Sam, who wasn’t even remotely responsible; realizes Bucky was framed; admits he was wrong about that, goes to help Steve and Bucky and make peace; watches video of parents murdered with apparent killer standing right next to him, hears comrade (who is put on a pedestal by everyone, including the father being killed in the video who never told Tony he loved or liked him), admit with no visible remorse, that he knew; violent mental snap for 20 minutes (if that); next time we see him, is helping Rhodey with his legs; helps Team Cap escape raft by ignoring Ross’s call; no hint of him making any further attempts to go after Bucky, or even expressing onscreen animosity towards Bucky.  

Wanda: Saves hundreds if not millions of lives; accidentally kills a few while saving those hundreds/millions, is horrified; is fine staying in the mansion like Tony wants, until Hawkeye convinces her otherwise; is put in a straight jacket; only person on Raft not to verbally shit on Tony. 

Bruce: Spared the indignity of being in “Batman V. Superman the Avengers Edition”

Adults Who Emotionally Blackmailed Young People into illegally joining their “war,” that said young people know little to nothing about:

If Tony is horrible for dragging a “kid” into a “war,” and Wanda is also a “kid” when Tony “locks her up”.... is Wanda still a “kid” when Hakweye drags her into this “war?” If Hawkeye did exactly that, but for Team Iron Man instead of Team Cap, would it still be okay? 

After “Civil War” 

Tony: Focus on protecting world; mentors/protects Peter Parker; improves enough that Pepper takes him back; becomes engaged; obsessed with defeating Thanos; makes new protective suit for Peter Parker; doesn’t want Peter on the space-donut and is pissed when he stows away; has petulant (and hilarious) snark-to-snark combat with Dr. Strange and Peter Quill; is a jackass after saving Strange from torture, but clearly caring when Strange is time-glitching; tries to talk down Quill when Quill is in the same position Tony was in Siberia (learn of loved one’s murder with killer in front of him), with no patronizing cliches like “this won’t change what happened”; fights Thanos even when armor is almost completely gone; doesn’t want Strange to hand over the Time Stone to save him; is upset Strange handed over the Stnoe to save him; has no ill words for Quill after Quill fucked up everything; gently says “steady Quill” when Quill’s friends are disintegrating around him; holds Spidey while he disintegrates. 

Wanda: No ill words for Stark, after everything; wants Vision to keep his word to Stark; is upset when Tony is declared missing on the spaceship; saves Vision’s ass from Thanos’s minions; refuses until the last minute to kill Vision for the sake of saving the universe; along with Star Lord, is one of the only two people in the MCU willing to kill their lover, and last living loved-one, to save the universe; has to see Vision killed again, with Thanos winning the Stone; dusted. 

Bruce: Trapped in Hulk for two years; sees Asgardians killed..............why am I still bothering? None of you ever hated on Bruce Banner to begin with, because he wasn’t in “Civil Fart” and therefore not “against” your favorite character.

Anyway, the moral of this story: if you personally hate Tony Stark or Wanda Maximoff for being on the wrong “team” in one badly written movie their personality, that’s your prerogative. But stop trying to vilify them, especially post-”Infinity War.” 

[nervouswreck-96]

Supernova - Chapter 3 (Unfinished Business)

I’m sorry this took so long. The process behind this was a process I swear I will never repeat. Basically, I wrote this chapter in chunks. That way, if I didn’t like how the chapter was panning out, I could simply replace one chunk with another chunk and smooth the cracks over. Things didn’t work out that way, and I spent ages trying to find out how to make this battle scene work. What I’m really afraid of at this point is that I’ve used up every narrative convention and cliché I know and that I’m just repeating them over and over.

A reader on DeviantArt (thanks a bunch, Blazerona!) pointed out a sentence in the last chapter that inexplicably repeated itself. No, I did not intend to write it that way; it happened after I saved the file to a cloud and some kind of conflict arose. But I still should’ve caught it. In response, I have gone back and edited the previous two chapters for similar atrocities, undid previous edits which were meant to tie into the deleted second chapter, and added new scenes and dialogue.

Remember, reviews keep my creative juices flowing! Even if you’re uncomfortable at peer reviewing, I need all the feedback I can get, whether positive or negative.

(Psst...I don’t think the Metonic shippers out there are gonna like this one very much...)

Punch. Climb. Release. Punch. Climb.

Uuuuuugh.

With each pull of his arms, Knuckles found it harder and harder to ignore the feeling that something was wrong. Gone was the numbness that once immunized him to the wounds on the sides of his body, replaced with a stabbing pain that reached down to his gut. Worse yet, he could feel the blood slide down his legs, tickling each piece of fur on the way down like a wet feather. Still, there was nothing Knuckles could do to cover the wounds. His hands were otherwise occupied holding up the entire weight of his body as he ascended the maintenance shaft.

But it wasn’t just the sides of his body that hurt.

Each pull brought him closer to the top, and closer into the faint green light that bathed the shaft. There lay the mystery that had eluded him since the moment he set foot on the ship. His sixth sense acted accordingly, sending him flashes that increased in intensity the closer he got. But it was telling him something else...something troubling. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but it felt familiar. It brought him back in time to a memory he would have rather forgotten, where everything could have been wiped out in the blink of an eye...

Knuckles pulled himself back to reality. Everything could be wiped out in the next hour if he didn’t get his red echidna butt moving.

Just...a little more...

The negative sensations only intensified, as if something drilled a hole inside Knuckles’ skull. No force on this earth could keep him from the Master Emerald for a second longer.

Then he saw it. Five horizontal columns of light poked through the darkness, illuminating a metal ventilation grate. He brought himself to its eye level and clawed over to the opposite side of the cylindrical shaft to take a peek through.

No...oh, Chaos, no...

On the opposite side of the grate, the Master Emerald was perched on a hastily-assembled shrine, wires attached to every surface of the iridescent jewel as if it were under intensive care. The once-constant green glow faded dramatically between full power and complete darkness, with almost no in-between. As far to the left as Knuckles could see from his limited perspective, he could make out a computer monitor perched on the wall, no doubt giving readouts of the Master Emerald’s energy.

Knuckles’ head exploded, and it wasn’t just his sixth sense that triggered it. He’d burst into the room and tear the whole place to shreds if the grate weren’t so damned tiny. The damned thing had been violated...taken advantage of for power. All the pieces came together in Knuckles’ head. If his theory held up, Sonic and Tails were in grave danger.

Lucky for him he never got around to crushing Tails’ annoying earpiece.

If Eggman’s robots were built with facial muscles, Metal Sonic would have a Cheshire grin a mile wide. He had every reason. For once, he was looking down on Sonic, and not the other way around. A new set of crosshairs appeared in Metal Sonic’s information-enhanced point of view, closing in around the boundaries of Sonic’s body in the frame. Once an identification match was confirmed, with the help of a picture of Sonic that Dr. Eggman helpfully stored in his internal memory, a blinking red message appeared before him: “BEGIN TERMINATION PROCEDURE”.

Not that he needed the hint. He had waited a year for this moment.

Below him, Sonic and Tails glared at the golden apparition, all the while trying in vain to hide their own fatigue – Sonic from the first missile impact, Tails from hauling him up two floors.

Metal Sonic forced Sonic and Tails to drink in his own magnificence as he descended from the rafters, arms held out at his sides, looking nothing less than the angel of death. Below his feet, clouds of rocket exhaust billowed out to herald his landing, forcing the two to turn away and squirm backward to avoid inhaling the noxious fumes. As the exhaust cloud loomed ever closer, they each met with a sudden bang against hollow steel piping, stopping them in their tracks.

They had backed all the way to the crude safety railing that separated them from falling two stories. From that point, there was nowhere for them to go but down.

There were doors up ahead. Plenty of them. Twenty or so, by Tails’ count, give or take two that might have been obscured by Metal Sonic’s presence. However, they were all sealed, each one flanked by a numeric keypad on the side wall on which, presumably, one of Eggman’s robotic assistants would enter the passcode to pry it open. Whatever dark secrets lay on the other side were obscured. All possible escape routes were cut off.

No way back. No way forward. No way up. The only way out was to fight.

Even with his eyes glazed over in pure terror, Tails couldn’t help but notice something oddly familiar. A bright, piercing golden aura surrounded Metal Sonic, illuminating the entire area and casting well-defined shadows in every direction. It was almost a carbon copy of the scene that usually followed Sonic’s super transformation.

Emphasis on “almost”.

He was the only one presently in the room to have ever gotten a first-hand look at such a scene from an outsider’s perspective, and yet even with his genius-level intelligence, he would be hard-pressed to put into words the raw, surging emotions he felt each time Sonic “went Super” – as was the crude term they came up with. No matter the level of danger they faced, no matter how close they brushed against death, Sonic’s golden aura of positive energy was enough to convince the world that everything was going to be okay. Even as a mere spectator from several feet away, the glow felt as warm and comforting as cozying around a warm fireplace even as the harsh winter closed in from outside.

But this was different. In Metal Sonic’s presence, Tails felt nothing of the sort. He felt nothing, period. Metal Sonic’s aura was not warm, or comforting, or in any way positive. Not that anyone should have expected it to be, of course. It was just...there, surrounding him almost as a display of power for power’s sake, just to show he could make one out of thin air. Or worse.

Inches above the floor, Metal Sonic’s rocket boosters cut out, allowing him to land face-to-face with the two. Sonic took this opportunity to examine his own reflection in his counterpart’s shimmering golden finish. Naturally, he came to admire it, despite the cuts and bruises he sustained not two minutes earlier.

“Say...nice paint job, Metal!” said Sonic. “Really brings out your eyes, y’know?”

“So...you do remember me,” said Metal, in an all-too-perfect synthesized replication of the real Sonic’s voice. “And yet, after all this time, you thought I had vanished into thin air?”

Sonic made a noise that could only be described as half-cough, half-scoff. “Yeah...wouldn’t say I’ve been cryin’ my eyes out over it.”

“Really? Well, I can arrange that.”

Tails could no longer hold himself together. He stepped out from behind Sonic’s shadow and pointed an accusing finger at Metal Sonic. “Where’s Eggman? What did you do with him this time? Is this your ship?” he asked.

“Oh, that? That was eons ago. Believe me, if I was up to that kind of nonsense again, I wouldn’t have bothered to keep up this level of subtlety,” said Metal Sonic.

“Believe you? Hmph. Yeah, right.” asked Sonic.

Without even realizing it, his head nudged closer to that of his metal counterpart. Soon enough, Metal Sonic’s drill-shaped approximation of a nose poked against Sonic’s organic, beady sniffer. As the two stared each other down, Sonic found himself permanently locked into a staring contest with a competitor who couldn’t blink, whose eyes were merely tools for intimidation that never surfaced. They weren’t merely staring into the face of a longtime rival. They each gazed into their own inverted image; Sonic’s streaming blue quills contrasting with Metal Sonic’s reflective golden paint scheme, Sonic’s vibrant and passionate emerald-green and white eyes gazing into Metal Sonic’s cold, heartless red and black.

Eventually, Tails grew tired of standing around. Something had to happen soon, if only to get this over with sooner. He poked his finger into the back of Sonic’s shoulder once. Twice.

No response.

He decided not to press the issue any further. After all, if years of experience taught him anything, there was method to Sonic’s madness. As far as he was concerned, this was Sonic’s Super-Happy Adventure Thrill Ride, and he was only tagging along. Stopping the ride while it was in progress would only turn out badly for all involved.

“If you must know...I don’t care who or what you ‘believe’. I am far beyond that...imposter you met last time,” said Metal Sonic, seemingly spitting on the “I” word...that is, if Eggman’s robots had any saliva. “I am far beyond you. Far beyond any of this...crude matter you call life.”

Sonic sighed and shook his head. “It’s always the same ol’, same ol’ with you, isn’t it? Tryin’ to make the whole world pay for your insecurity? Well, shove this into your hard drive! There is only one Sonic in this room, and I ain’t lookin’ at ‘im!”

Though Metal Sonic had no visible mouth, a faint chuckle could be detected from the mere bobbing of his head. “You fool...you imply that I want to keep up that old charade?”

“Don’t--”

But whatever witty repartee Sonic planned on using plummeted back down his throat. He stepped back and replayed what Metal Sonic just said, unsure if he even heard it right.

All right, what crazy pills did Eggman feed him THIS time?

“Being the ‘real Sonic’…keeping up with you? Hah! It means nothing to me anymore. You. Mean. Nothing. Why would I dare limit myself to such...pitiful standards, when the entire world is within my grasp?” said Metal Sonic.

Sonic rolled his eyes, calling attention to it by bobbing his head – a faux-dramatic gesture that Metal Sonic either failed to detect or simply pretended not to notice.

“Heh…pretty big talk for a three-time loser,” said Sonic, in the most mocking, singsongy tone he could manage.

As he turned away to let Metal Sonic absorb the barb, a distinct whirring sound from the other side convinced him to turn his gaze back.

The air itself swirled around his palms in an ever-increasing vortex, obscured by pinpricks of light that represented energy in its purest form. Soon, those pinpricks faded into a glowing ball from which miniature bolts of lightning shot forth. With a short burst of his rocket boots, he rose off the floor and wound his arms into a sidewinder throwing motion. The staring contest was over. Metal Sonic had blinked. Sonic spared a quick glance at Tails and realized this was a bad time to stand directly next to each other.

“Move!” they each said in unison.

With one lunging step, Tails took the mightiest dive he could manage, arms outstretched with the MilesElectric in unsteady hands. For an inch or two, his nose scraped against the floor, churning his stomach at the prospect that the rest of his body would follow and leave him an open target for Metal Sonic. Then, just when he needed it to, the motion of his tails kicked in, providing the lift he needed.

Without warning, the fur on Tails’ backside and head shot up. This couldn’t have been some sort of internal bodily reflex caused by his own excitement. If it was, this would have happened the moment he stepped onto the ship. Behind him, a thundering roar split the air, throwing Tails for a loop. When he turned around to get a look at the source of the noise, he noticed a charred black crater in the floor where the two had previously stood, and a pair of skid marks just inches in front of it. Tails didn’t need to be a forensic scientist to realize which direction those skid marks pointed.

Forwards. Into the danger.

A lump formed in Tails’ throat. When they said to move, they didn’t specify where.

Not taking any chances, Metal Sonic indexed every single file in every single folder on his considerable file system, leafing through essential drivers, blueprints, and documents, tossing aside anything that did not bear the name of the file he needed. Within the amount of time it took Sonic to take a single step, the task was completed, and a command appeared before him on the scan-lined viewscreen that represented his view of the world.

“EXECUTE WEAPON-PRESET ‘BLITZKR.egg’”

Without sparing a moment for showmanship, Metal Sonic fired off more energy blasts toward the onrushing hedgehog as fast as he could charge them up. He fired in an arc from left to right to left, gradually moving the line of fire back toward the ground directly below him, making sure that any earth where Sonic might have set foot would be scorched along with the hedgehog himself. Each blast struck the floor with a blinding flash of light and a deafening roar, leaving smoking, bubbling indentations so close together that cracks started to form between them.

Yet through the savagery, a familiar blue flicker danced around certain death, bouncing over the energy balls before they even struck the ground, zipping through the tiny cracks between impact zones. Metal Sonic increased the rate of fire, but still Sonic effortlessly navigated the maze of cracks that consumed the floor. The green on-screen targeting reticule that guided Metal Sonic’s fire was unable to cope with the lofty demand, jumping about in all directions in a hopeless attempt to follow something it could not possibly follow.

Something in Sonic’s head clicked. How he knew, even he didn’t exactly know. But he knew. He had reached the sweet spot.

“Heads up, faker!”

One well-aimed shot could end this battle before it started. With inches to spare, Sonic leapt headfirst for Metal Sonic and curled into a spin attack, and braced for the usual shower of smashed circuit boards, shorted wires, and infinitesimal capacitors that pierced his body as he thrust himself through the brains of the machine.

All he got was a dull thud.

No bending, no flexing, no sign of damage. He just...bounced off Metal Sonic.

What? Did...did he just...

His spin attack could deflect hollow-point bullets, cut the strongest of steel alloys into ribbons, tunnel through miles of the earth’s surface without breaking much of a sweat…and yet this…clone held up to it without taking so much as a scratch.

Before he could even consider the variables that could lead to that result, he had to coordinate his own landing. His fears were confirmed the instant he looked up: Metal Sonic came out completely unscathed. All Sonic managed to do was knock him a few feet out of the air, for which he could easily compensate with his rocket boosters.

Almost the second after he landed, Tails rushed to his side. He had only one question: “What the heck just happened over there?”

“Buddy, I was just about to ask you the same thing...” said Sonic, rubbing his head. Tails shrugged, his mouth still agape. For once, he didn’t have the answer Sonic needed.

Metal Sonic crept ever closer to the two, making sure the sound of his laughter would drown out any conversation the two could possibly carry out. Gently, he decreased the power of his rocket boosters, allowing himself to drop to the ground.

“Was that the best you could do?!” he asked.

Sonic’s expression was reinvigorated by the personal challenge, draining all sense of shock from his eyes. “Heh...I’m just getting warmed up!” he said.

“Is that so?” said Metal Sonic.

Even as Metal Sonic spoke, the engine inside his chest cavity slowly purred and roared into life. When it reached a specific speed, a spark ignited, and a trail of blue flames burst out of his backside.

“So am I,” he added.

The pocket of air immediately surrounding him vibrated, tore, and rippled with the sound of the initial blast before settling back into place, as if oxygen itself feared for its safety in Metal Sonic’s presence. Only specialized boots kept him bolted to the ground, preventing him from careering into Sonic and Tails right then and there. Without a second thought, Sonic turned toward his partner, knowing deep down that he might not get another chance.

“Back off, Tails!” said Sonic, pointing his finger forcefully at the ground. “It’s me he wants!” But Tails didn’t even need the signal. One look into Sonic’s eyes told him more than he needed to know.

“But...but I...thought he said…” said Tails.

“That’s what he says,” said Sonic, flashing his trademark thumbs-up. “But trust me. He’ll change his tune soon enough.”

“Sonic, wait!” shouted Tails. “He’s...”

But it was too late. It had been too late from the time he opened his mouth. While Metal Sonic was still boosting in place, Sonic charged forward with everything he had.

The first die had been cast. Sonic’s first step triggered Metal Sonic to unclamp his boots from the floor, releasing all his stored energy in the form of raw, uncontained speed. Two unstoppable forces converged on one another, racing to become the first to the center of an imaginary battlefield, each lowering their heads for the inevitable collision. Tails braced himself as well, gripping the MilesElectric firmly to his chest with both arms.

It took less than a second for the two forces to plow head-first into one another. The energy of one directly counteracted the energy of the other, and there was nowhere else for it to go but outward, resulting in a shockwave that resounded across the massive expanses of the ESS-1. Tails barely managed to get his feet off the ground before the blast consumed him and his precious device.

In an instant, both Sonic and Metal Sonic found their forward motion curtailed completely. No matter how far Sonic pushed the limits of his speed, his shoes slipped and slid across the floor with each step, pushed beyond even the limits of their endurance. The same held true for Metal’s afterburners, held into submission by Sonic’s sheer persistence. Even as they pushed their ailing engines harder and harder, neither one of them was willing to give an inch. The unstoppable forces had become immovable objects.

Grunting and straining as his muscles screamed out for mercy, a Gallic smile was fixed on Sonic’s face.

“Tryin’ to…pass yourself off as Super Sonic now…are ya?” he asked, struggling for each word. “Let’s see…if you’re as fast as him!”

His feet skidded across the floor at speeds that would propel him to Mach 3 under normal circumstances. Under these circumstances, however, his shoes kicked up a plume of thick, grey smoke from the constant friction of rubber and metal. On the other side, Metal Sonic’s rocket fire had long since surpassed the melting point of the steel floor, creating a puddle of silver magma that bore all the way down to the core. Second by second, Metal Sonic’s head pressed itself deeper and deeper against Sonic’s skull, crushing blood vessels flat, forcing vital cranial fluids into retreat, sending a rush of throbbing pain across his forehead. It seemed inevitable that the whole structure would crack open and collapse in on itself at any moment. But until it did, Sonic reached deeper into his reserves for that one extra helping of strength that would force Metal Sonic back.

Suddenly, a feeling of weightlessness jolted through Sonic’s every nerve. What was happening? He couldn’t turn his head, but he could turn his eyes toward the ground. That’s when it came to him – familiar debris marks on the floor began to move. Forwards.

Metal Sonic was pushing him back.

What is this thing even made of?! Urgh...doesn’t matter...I’ll tear through it no matter how long it takes! Sonic thought.

There was no recourse left for Sonic. He had to reach the upper limit of his speed, a point that even he wasn’t sure of. And yet…had he reached it already? His legs simply wouldn’t accept a command to “go faster”. Blood vessels and lungs, already conditioned to the rigors of hypersonic travel, were on the verge of exploding. Just one more burst of effort, it seemed, would be enough for the whole system to shut down. Yet for all of that, Sonic still lost precious ground against Metal Sonic’s ferocious assault.

He couldn’t escape that. In fact, it consumed him. His brain no longer listened to any impulses from tortured nerves begging him to give in. He couldn’t give in. He couldn’t accept the mere concept of giving in. Not after he had come this far. Sonic readied himself for his last valiant sprint...

…and took one bad step. That was all Metal Sonic needed.

For a fraction of a second, Sonic’s stumble forced both his feet above the ground, where his friction-enhanced rubber soles would be useless in holding him steady. With no opposing force to keep him in check, Metal Sonic shot forward like a bullet, dragging a stunned Sonic with him. By the time he even noticed where he was, Sonic’s face, chest, and shoulders had all come into contact with the floor, spewing a trail of blood from his facial wounds. He came to rest just inches short of the same wall where he had been attacked earlier, with his limbs thrown about into positions they were never intended to occupy.

A thick curtain of indistinct noise clouded his vision, causing him to lose a grip on his normally-keen sense of orientation. As he struggled to his knees, he couldn’t tell which way his head was pointed. He blinked once. He blinked twice. It made no difference; the fog was imprinted upon his eyes. The simple act of tilting his head forward brought an unwelcome splash upon Sonic’s upper lip. A nosebleed, once a mere trickle, soon became a mighty waterfall that threatened to engulf his entire face. Any effort he made to snort back the rush was futile.

After doing a complete aerial circuit of the room, Metal Sonic came to a stop hovering just over Sonic’s body. He slowly brought his head down closer to Sonic’s level to further twist the knife.

“I win,” he said.

After a few seconds, Sonic noticed a shrill ringing sound in his ears, a common side effect of a concussion. But...that didn’t make any sense. They weren’t ringing this much even in the first moments after he struck the ground. This wasn’t a ringing sound...it was a whirring sound. It couldn’t have been in his head. Metal Sonic was up to something.

A harsh blue light suddenly poked through his sealed eyelids, jolting him to force them open. Vague, formless streaks of blue light dotted Sonic’s vision, in tune with the movements of Metal Sonic’s left hand. A blue orb of light emerged from the inside of the robot’s palm, charged up with an unseen, amorphous weapon. Sonic didn't need telling what it was. He needed to move. But this time, of all times, he couldn’t. Each time he tried to forget about his injuries and keep moving, the pain only intensified, keeping him glued to the floor. The urgency of the situation did little to infuse him with life – a life that could be extinguished in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, he felt a hand grip tightly onto his right wrist, yanking his entire arm up in one swift motion. And then the expressions changed.

“Don’t count your eggs before they hatch,” said Sonic, with a smirk. The Tails Express had arrived right on schedule.

Soon, the rest of his body gracefully ascended from the floor, leaving an empty-eyed Metal Sonic aiming at nothing but the opposite-side wall. His targeting reticule bounced around his line of sight, searching for someone who wasn’t there. The doppelganger looked up, only to find Sonic waving back at him as he dangled off the arm of his savior.

Tails carried Sonic as far away from Metal Sonic as possible, buying them time to come up with a new strategy. Sonic closed his eyes, letting the rush of the wind renew his life force and permeate his body and soul. He felt normal again. No...better than normal. He felt like he could take on the world. But Tails saw the world in a different way. A significant portion of his view was consumed by Sonic’s gashed, bruised head. His nosebleed oozed onto Tails’ right arm as it held him aloft. And this was just his head. Tails shuddered at the thought of the possible injuries to the rest of his body, which he hadn’t been able to see yet.

“I tell ya, buddy...” said Sonic. “I don’t know what I’d do without you!”

“Oh, Sonic...” said Tails, his voice cracking. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothin’ I haven’t gotten through before!” said Sonic, flashing a thumbs-up with his one free hand. “And I’ll get through this!”

“Not without me, you won’t! The only way we can beat this thing is if we do it together! He was built to destroy you…hate you…but I don’t think he’s prepared to take on both of us!”

Sonic beamed. Apparently someone was listening to his impromptu sermons on teamwork.

“Turn this ship around, cap’n!” he said. “Let’s get ‘im!”

“Yeah!”

Tails made a tight 180-degree turn, leaving Sonic to swing dangerously off to the side. But he would never let go – not of Tails’ hand, nor of this moment. For one fleeting moment, hope triumphed over despair. There was a chance they could pull this off.

It took only one second for that chance to be snuffed out. The entire cavernous space on the ESS-1 flashed with a sudden burst of illumination, and the room temperature shot up several degrees.

“What the heck--” Sonic asked.

In the blink of an eye, a blinding white laser streaked across the air, buzzing past Sonic’s head. A sudden pull of gravity forced Sonic back to the left, taking him out of the beam’s path with a split-second to spare. Tails was pulled into a temporary state of shock by the flash, just long enough for him to forget what he was even doing. Without him realizing it, his tail-blades momentarily came to a halt, only for him to fire them up again when the two began to drop out of the air like rocks.

A deafening metal crash above them commanded their attention. When they looked up, they beheld the full effect of Metal Sonic’s weapon for the first time. A steel beam on the ceiling had melted through as if it were a chocolate bar, and flashed a bright orange on the edges of where the laser had struck it. The blast destroyed the joints connecting it to the ceiling, causing the two-ton object to break free from its chains and swing on its one remaining hinge. Miraculously, the hinge held up, preventing the beam from collapsing.

“Whoa!” said Sonic, just after the noise settled. “Evasive maneuvers!”

The room lit up a second time, but Tails, recognizing the cue, made a swift turn to the right. Sonic’s legs escaped incineration from the second laser by mere inches.

“You’re kidding me! He’s got lasers now?” asked Tails.

“Apparently!” said Sonic.

Tails’ heart rate soared with the anticipation of the next one. He was trapped in a virtual thunderstorm, dreading the next flash of lightning that could strike at any moment. His right arm shook like pure jelly down to the wrist, where his glove became soaked in sweat that dripped off his brow. His mind whizzed between stations, with so many things to keep track of at the same time. Airspeed, heading, Sonic’s status on his right arm, the status of the MilesElectric still lodged in his left arm, when the next laser could strike and what the best strategy was to avoid it. He had committed himself to the world’s most dangerous aerial juggling act.

“Hold on tight, buddy! This could get rough!” said Sonic.

As if in reply, Sonic heard a voice crackle to life in his left ear. But it wasn’t Tails’. He was too preoccupied to talk. He couldn’t tell what it was saying in the middle of the chaos, but its identity came to him soon enough.

“Knuckles?!” said Sonic.

“What?!” asked Tails. “Where?!”

“On the ear-thingy! Didn’t you hear him?”

Tails made another 180-degree turn, so that they might be able to at least get enough quiet to make out what Knuckles had to say – hastily pulling Sonic above a fourth laser in the meantime. Finally, the two landed on the next floor down, buying themselves time for at least a few seconds of conversation. On this deck, they ran into the exact same layout – a wide enclosure with multiple locked security doors blocking the way forward. It was no less wide and no less deep than the deck above, but given the circumstances, somehow it didn’t feel that way.

“Guys! You’ve got to listen to me!” shouted Knuckles. “You’re in grave danger!”

The few seconds expired. Another flash, and the ceiling above Sonic and Tails rumbled and shook, knocking a tile to the floor.

“Tell me something I don’t know!” said Sonic.

The ear-piercing sounds of battle, destruction, and desperation clued Knuckles in. His discovery had come too late. Still, better late than never. On Sonic and Tails�� floor, more blasts came from above. More tiles fell from the ceiling. Metal Sonic dared the two to come back up and face him.

“Listen, there’s something more! I don’t know what’s going on, but I can feel it! It’s as if...as if the Master Emerald itself is being warped and distorted and...!” said Knuckles.

“Would you just get to the point?!” said Sonic.

“It’s negative Chaos Energy! Only it’s more concentrated than I’ve ever felt it! It’s...almost tearing me apart!”

Negative. Chaos. Energy. Three words that brought shivers through the spines of anyone who knew their significance. Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles were three of the unlucky ones who experienced their effects first-hand on multiple occasions. They could add this occasion to the list.

“Wait, you’ve got the Emerald?” asked Tails.

“No...it’s locked away. There’s only one entrance to the chamber, and I can’t break through. Believe me, I’ve tried,” said Knuckles, rubbing his sore fists.

The sound of a rocket engine overpowered Knuckles’ tinny voice, capturing Sonic and Tails’ attention. Just beyond the ledge of the deck hovered Metal Sonic, with yet another laser at the ready. With little time to think, Sonic grabbed hold of Tails’ wrist and yanked him along for a supersonic dash to the opposite end of the hallway. The next laser fired on their initial positions and gradually moved toward their current ones.

“You wanna speed this one up?” asked Sonic, as he and Tails made a perfectly-timed jump over the oncoming laser to save themselves from certain death.

“There’s a passcode, and no one here is nice enough to give it to me straight! I need Mr. Hacker over there to let me in!” said Knuckles.

Tails gulped. “Wait…I—”

“Go! I’ll keep ‘im busy!” said Sonic.

“What happened to sticking together?!” asked Tails. “I thought…”

“We are sticking together…all three of us! Knuckles needs you right you right now! Don’t worry about me, I can handle it!”

That was a hard sell to Tails, now that he could actually see the extent of the cuts and bruises throughout Sonic’s entire body. Tails couldn’t help but wonder if Sonic was hiding an even deeper pain from him, but if this were the case, it seemed nothing less than betrayal to not be there for him. He stared into his own reflection in the MilesElectric’s screen, and then back at Sonic, hoping that his mere aura of fortitude could force a decision.

The next moment, Metal Sonic fired off yet another laser, forcing them to dive in opposite directions.

“Hey, you said we were gonna have to ‘wing it’, right?” said Sonic.

That was all Tails needed. He scrambled to his feet, jumped to avoid the laser beam, and soared over the ledge back down to Deck 6 where they started. If this fight was going to be won, his place wasn’t with Sonic. His place was among machines. Ironically enough, so was Sonic’s. He rose to his feet, standing with a slight wobble, but no less tall and proud. He had been beaten up. But he hadn’t been beaten.

All right, faker. The kid gloves are OFF. It’s just you and me now.

On the next Supernova: The race to shut down the ESS-1!

[cloppyreads]

After The Fact: Love Stands With Pride

It’s done. The final chapter was posted on Sunday. If you haven’t read it yet, go read it , because everything I’m about to say is related to it. 

Oh boy. What a ride this has been, more of a ride than I thought it was going to be, for more than one reason. Before I get into it, I want to thank everyone who has read, upvoted, commented, followed me and most importantly, those who have shared it with others. I also want to give thanks to Drummermax64 for all of his reviews on every chapter, and for being so easy to work with on helping to get it featured on ZNN. Additionally, I want to give another big thank you to WinterBunny for making the art that inspired the story, and kenalbus for giving me the rights to use the image you’ve been seeing for months as cover art. And finally, big thanks to @steelquill for proofreading every chapter, and helping me out when I occasionally wasn’t sure what to do with the little details of the story; I don’t say it enough, but Quill’s eyes help make my story just a little bit better than they usually would have been without him taking a fresh look at them. 

With that said, I feel like there are some things I need to address with what happened with releasing the story, and the strong response it got, and not in the good way (mostly because of the first chapter, not so much because of anything following it). That said, everything below the read more line is going to be a (mostly) unfiltered rant/ramble from yours truly concerning everything that had to do with me releasing the story and the flames it generated from so many people. I’ll try to keep it PG-13 since the story itself is SFW, but like I said, the filter is pretty much coming off here. 

Alright, so everyone knows how blown away I was by the Zootopia movie, I don’t need to go into that story, it’s been said numerous times, same thing about how taken I was with the whole WildeHopps shipping thing and how badly I want it to be canon. For a couple months I’d been enjoying fanart SFW and NSFW alike, when out of nowhere on tumblr, I came across this. 

Do you ever come across a picture that’s not only beautiful, but also makes you think “you know what? This feels right.”? That’s what happened with this picture. I don’t think there’s a single detail out of place or that I disagree with here. The proposal is happening in the same place that Judy poured her soul out to Nick when she’d hurt him unintentionally, and she’s pouring her soul to him once again here. Judy’s the one doing the proposing, because she’s the assertive type while Nick struggles to let his emotions out. Nick’s tearing up because once that chord has been struck with him, it’s hard for him to keep himself composed. I myself have always liked Nick for a number of reasons, but one of them was because I didn’t see him as much of a masculine male. He’s got a slim build, he’s not overly courageous, and he has that emotionally frail side of his even if he keeps it hidden. With all that in mind, seeing Judy take what’s usually associated with the male’s role and proposing to him just made my heart leap, and I knew I had to write something about it.  Thing is, I didn’t want to just write a one-shot chapter and be done with it. Those are fun to write, and they can sometimes do well, but more often than not they’re appreciated for maybe a week and then forgotten forever. I didn’t want that to happen; I felt like this scene deserved to be part of something bigger and that it deserved more spotlight. So, I started thinking of a bigger story to attach it to. Something with ups and downs and some drama and some heartache only for these two to help lift the other up when they’ve been beaten down. To me, it felt like interspecies discrimination was the way to go. Yes, I know that Bucky and Pronk are technically not the same species, and there’s comics that have depicted some mammals asking other species of mammal out, so some people are saying it’s not an issue in the city. Sure, that’s a possibility; the other possibility is that some mammals are okay with it, while others aren’t, and there might not be anything the city government can do to stop interspecies couples from dating but they haven’t updated their laws to allow them to marry. So many what-if’s and loopholes and technicalities that haven’t and might not ever be answered by Disney (unless they just stun us all and make that the message of the sequel) that I thought it was a fine subject to approach. 

So, movie hype is in full swing, everybody loved the message that Zootopia had to teach about prejudice and politicians using fear to keep those in their groups united against groups they don’t like, racism is bad, yaddah yaddah yaddah. What does America do? They elect the guy who wants to build a wall across Mexico, ban Muslims from entering the U.S, and also ban transsexuals from joining the military (oh, but he’s FINE with gay marriage! Isn’t that the ONLY thing that matters???) Good job, guys. I’m sure that’s what everyone who worked on the movie was aiming for you to do. Way to go.  So yeah, that obviously upset me, and surprisingly enough, it upset a lot of other people too. So I thought to myself “hey, I’ve got this fanfic in my queue that’s about Nick and Judy overcoming prejudice to not only get what they want, but what a lot of other mammals want too. If they’re engaging in a political scuffle, it only makes sense to have a political villain at the head of it all, right?” Also I wanted to be topical, and since I was still feeling betrayed by my country, I thought I could be both topical and let off some steam by making the villain of my story be an obvious caricature of The Annoying Orange. I figured that since there are a VAST amount of people who hate Drump, that might get a laugh out of people, even if it also ticked off a lot of others. So, I spent Jan-May pouring my blood, sweat and tears into this story, which even before it was done being edited and revised into the final version, I was damn proud of. It was the longest story I’d completed (sorry Scales fans, that story is pretty much dead), and I thought I’d spun a neat little tale about conflict, the struggle to overcome it, and a happy ending, but mostly shipping moments galore. I knew I was going to get some flack for throwing the Crybaby in Chief under the bus, but I figured it’d be pretty small and not amount to much. 

The response I got?

Ho-ly-Crap. You’d have thought I cut off his head and played basketball with it, people were so angry (I mean, NOT angry, just very very vocal about how “not angry” they were xD). 

For more detail on the heated responses I got, check out “Dumb Fanfic Author Reads Salty Comments” 

Look, I get what some people are saying, that my character Remus Trunk isn’t an “accurate portrayal” of Donald Trump. I understand that, and this is going to shock some of you, but I wasn’t going for that. I had no intention of making Remus so accurate of a portrayal to Donald that you could confuse the two of them for each other. All I wanted was to throw in a few likenesses that readers could figure out who I was parodying. And given the fact that so many people responded along the lines of “hurrrrr, that’s not what DONALD TRUMP would say!” then you obviously understood who I was referencing, so mission accomplished for me! 

People acted like I was somehow hurting... something... I don’t know what... by posting this fic with a caricature of Trump. I think they forgot that we live in a country where hundreds of comedy shows constantly make their own parodies of him because they have a right to do so, and they know people enjoy it. Yeah, people on the Red side sure like to complain about how PC-liberals are taking away their free speech to the point they can’t even talk, but you say one word about their president-senpai? “Hey man, shut up! You can’t say that! That’s not fair! Ugh, you’re so mad!” Dude, your candidate won, what more do you want? You want a medal for it and a pat on the back that you made the right choice? People are going to voice that they disagree with you: get over it.  Now before everyone starts thinking I’m just lashing out at people who disagree with me, I’d like to point out there were more than a few people who voiced their criticism in a composed and level headed way. They said to me something along the lines of “I think it’s unfair that you’re not representing that there are some level headed people on the opposing side” or “I’m not really interested in reading politics in fanfiction so this isn’t up to my tastes”. And that’s fine. I’m more than okay with people voicing their disagreements with me as long as they aren’t doing it with a tone that sounds like they’re verbally flipping me off. 

Regardless, publishing this story showed me that the Zootopia fandom, like every other fandom, indeed has its dark side. Right around my first chapter being published was when I noticed that the fandom was throwing a tantrum over Borba’s comic “I Will Survive”. I mean, the lengths that people went to to trash Borba and try to discredit everything about that comic was baffling. Yeah, I read the comic, and it was very depressing, and it doesn’t line up with MY headcanon of what Nick and Judy would do in that situation (Nick actually yes, but not Judy so much) but you know what? It’s not my story, and it’s not my headcanon. And apparently it’s not Borba’s headcanon either. He’s still a wildehopps shipper, even though that one story showed them breaking up. He wrote it because he wanted to try something different. He’s not trying to make a continuing timeline or anything; he’s just writing and drawing out ideas because he wants to express them. It’s called being creative. And that’s what I did too: I had an idea, wanted to express it, and that’s what I did. I don’t think we should be crucified for bringing our ideas to the public. We can be criticized sure, it’s healthy if presented in a constructive way. But if all you’re giving us is “I don’t like it!” or “This makes me (not) angry!” then it’s just proving to us that there’s a portion of the Zootopia fandom that really needs to grow up. 

So, do I have any plans to make other fanfics with caricatures of politicians I don’t like? Nope, not that I can think of. I’ve got a TON of story outlines all piled up on one another, but none of them have anything to do with politics. But that’s just because I haven’t seen any reason to do such a thing yet. I have not been intimidated by any of the man-children who pitched a fit in my comments section trying to dissuade me from talking mean about their president-senpai, so if I happen to be stricken with an idea where some political content might help the story I’m trying to tell, I am sure gonna do that, and I’m going to feel ZERO regret for doing it. Keep in mind, I’m not some rebel trying to start a political uprising: I’m just trying to tell some stories and entertain readers, while also improving my own craft. Even though these are fanfics, I do take this craft very seriously, and I want to keep improving my storytelling abilities. I’ve been doing it for about five years now, and I have no intention of stopping anytime soon (I might have to stop writing fanfics some day in the next couple years, but I seriously want to keep writing SOMETHING for the rest of my life). 

WITH ALL THAT OUT OF THE WAY, you guys probably want to know about coming stories in the future. I was going to do a little blurb about it here, but I felt it better to give that topic its own post. To read up on what I’ve got planned for the coming months, read Plans For The Future (Ramble)

Other than that, just want to say thanks to everybody who follows me and reads my crap, hope you enjoy more of it in the future. Peace out. :)