#antibadnik

Eggman: i sleep

Ava: stabs tails

Eggman: 

Who — is that supposed to be me ? Ruby eyes stare up at the figure on screen. Someone that looks exactly like him stands next to a blonde haired girl, laughing and kneading dough. He has some flour in his quills. “Shadow!” The girl says, and he mouths her name, ‘maria,’ not fully comprehending what’s going on, “You’ve got it in your fur!” She giggles and dips a rag into a bowl of water, then goes to wipe away the smear of white on his left middle quill.

The hedgehog that looks like him laughs and pushes the girl away playfully. “The cookies are never going to get finished at this rate.” And the fake-Shadow grins at Maria.

i don’t remember this.

Shadow’s eyes continue to dart across the screen, watching the remainder of the file and all its shoddy craftsmanship. At some point Maria picks up the camera and narrates the other him’s actions as he slides a tray into a fancy looking oven. “We have to do SOMETHING while we’re cooped up on the ARK, so I had Adelaide give me her sister’s cookie recipe!” who is adelaide? the voice behind the camera says. “Hopefully they turn out okay!”

And then the video ends. She must have forgotten to press record after the cookies were finished baking. Shadow searches the recesses of his memory for something – anything – did they taste good? Were they snickerdoodles or cinnamon sugar? WHY CAN’T I REMEMBER ANYTHING??????????

Gloved hands ball into fists and all of a sudden Shadow smacks the console furiously, heat rising in his chest and tears brimming in his eyes and he hates this so much it’s unbearable THAT CAN’T BE ME because all he’s known is FEAR AND RAGE.

“I don’t — I don’t remember —————— ,” he tries to speak but it’s just a whisper and then he thinks back to the Shadow Androids –  A FAKE OF THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM – but something continues to cling to his chest. “I can’t remember —————–.” Who is he begging? Shadow doesn’t know anymore. All he can do is stare at his clenched fist. he’s terrified of something and he isn’t sure what but surely this is the worst feeling in the world, to watch someone wear your identity and go out living your life, and then be told that THIS IS YOU – YOU DID THIS – and yet …  that is NOT ME. that is my face and my voice but it is NOT ME.

Suddenly he feels a hand on his shoulder. Rouge. Her voice is soft and comforting ( a side of her she does not show often ): “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

Some sort of ragged emotion resembling a furious sadness fills Shadow’s heart and he reaches to brush away the water that’s gathering in the corner of his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath in an attempt to regain control of his emotions. He stares at his hands and, oh, how they tremble.

▌ @antibadnik​ asked  ▌       “ you think I’m so clumsy that I need someone to watch        over me ? ” from ames!

fire emblem : three houses prompts

“You know that I never doubted you for a moment, Ames.” After all, he was fully aware of how much this heroine has grown. Of how their hammer will swing right and true, powered by all the love they have to give. Of how, time and time again, in the face of danger and world destruction, they turned to those hurting, scared and afraid, and said ‘I will help you.’ ‘I will fight for you.’ and hasn’t turned back since. 

He knows just how strong she is. How strong she will continue to be. But strength never meant you have to fight alone, never meant you have to go without support. Amy may not need Sonic to come to her rescue anymore, but he knows full well how lonely the title of ‘HERO’ can be, how even the strongest can sometimes feel weak. So he’ll run along right by her side, hand outstretched for whenever she may want — and all she has to do is reach out and grab it. Simple as that, really.

@antibadnik​ 

          He couldn’t believe his eyes. He thought it was a trick of the light at first - that what he was looking at was merely his mind playing tricks on him all over again, taunting him with his failure, his inability to perceive things as it once was. Ever since Mimic killed them, he’s been trying to find him, hunt him down, gun him down and take vengeance for his comrades. Smithy, Claire, and Whisper did not deserve to DIE. They were heroes, legends, and Mimic, without any second thought, KILLED THEM OFF like they were nothing. Like all those years spent together fighting Eggman’s forces were nothing. It pissed him off to no end.

          So when he sees Whisper traveling along a path. In front of her floated the blue wisp, the same exact wisp Mimic held onto. He took the rest of them, didn’t he? That fucker. He’d pay for what he did. No sooner did he spot the two of them did he reach for his two wispon revolvers, the low click being the only conceivable sound to warn Whisper that she was about to get shot.

          A shot is fired from the revolver as his cyan wisp engages it. Just after the first shot, he screams out in a fit of livid anger.

          Damn it, why is he comfortable?! He shouldn’t be. By NO MEANS should he be comfortable right now. Trapped within a layer of warm blankets, surrounded by snacks he can’t even eat, LEANED ON BY THE ONE HEDGEHOG THAT’S CAUSED HIM SO MANY HEADACHES IN THE PAST. And yet, here he is, feeling no need to escape or push them away or even bust the TV so they didn’t have to watch this mindless dribble of a movie.

          He sits stock-still, unmoving save for the occasional twitch of his head as he glances down to his.... friend, beside him. Calling them that still felt so unnatural. Calling them a ‘friend’ didn’t sound right. Proxy wasn’t meant to have friends, Proxy was meant to have enemies and only enemies. And yet, with permission from Dr. Robotnik himself, he seems to have found solace in... friendship.

          But no matter what they try to introduce him to, it still feels wrong. It feels out of line with what he was designed for. It felt illegal. And yet here he is, “enjoying” himself. Listening to their quips about being happy with him and being happy about spending time with him made him feel... something. An unfamiliar feeling that he wasn’t sure how to describe or react to. Warmth? It was a metaphorical description. He could not feel anything.

          ...

| I STIᒪᒪ ᗪOᑎ'T ᑌᑎᗪᕮᖇSTᗩᑎᗪ, ᗩᗰY. ... I'ᗰ TᖇYIᑎG TO. IT'S.... ᑎIᑕᕮ... TO SIT ᕼᕮᖇᕮ ᗯITᕼ YOᑌ. |

| I'ᗰ ᑎOT ᑌSᕮᗪ TO TᕼIS. |

She Will Be Healed