#timelocker

@timelocker

it doesn't matter who falls first, plummeting down towards the earth; this too they do together, the flames of their descent wrapping them as one. two shooting stars become one and their glow radiant as they come closer, eye to eye. rascal feels his arms close around her, and she doesn't stop him, her eyes glued to him, and the euphoria of unstoppable strength keeping a smile on her face, but there is more. there is always more, and her arms do the same, meeting behind his back.

glorious, together. one, together.

HAVOC, HE WAS HUMILIATINGLY #@$%!! UP… not a state the erstwhile usurper would once let himself play around with & ever get THIS STUPIDLY CLOSE TO— no, not in front of them .

(                     ALWAYS making sure that his physical was tip-topped & hotshotted; not to be messed with. his crown not toppleable; ‘fucked-over-proof’. NEVER allowing any sign of an exploitable weakness to leak out & for them to instantly lap it up — they’d laugh right in his face, fling spit on him at point-blank, before tossing him into the gutter. No hesitation, not a second-fucking-thought. Because otherwise, he was nothing in their eyes.                    ). 

BUT THIS TIME,  jeeeeeez… he really allowed himself to get messed up, didn’t he? His trademark getup, despite being super souped-up, was fucking tarnished beyond anything. when during those bygone days before, even without chaos-enhanced stitching making it near shred resistant, it seemed almost untouchable, & oh so annoyingly inviolable. but that ‘one shall not touch’ one-of-a-kind ninties vintage jacket was completely RIPPED TO SHREDS now, & his once unblemished flesh underneath that the leather had shielded had gotten just as ugly-ed up in the collateral, lacerating deep; so much so, that the swift healing ability of the emeralds was still trying to desperately catch up & mend the wounds that still GAPED. he was completely & utterly FUCKED UP from just how fervent he fought. how HARD he had fought— recklessly, & stupidly 

(                      always all the way stupid with her. only with her, did he go all the way with everything                      )

BECAUSE HE DIDN’T CARE THIS TIME

 (                     maybe it was because this time, his head was really in it; because he had REASON to fight, & he was willing to risk EVERYTHING for it .                     ).  

 & OH HOW HE FOUGHT HARD. HOW HE JUST FUCKING FOUGHT & FOUGHT. He fought with such stubborness & an absurd fervor, more than he has ever before. Even when he had to get a bit unsanitary with it (                      because, like what one weird ass cat taught him, you have to do WHATEVER IT TAKES, even if your only options may seem way too nutty & eccentric. EVEN IF YOU HAVE TO GET A BIT WEIRD. Don’t hesitate, don’t think — fight head on, but also don’t use your head at all                      ).

he willingly pushed himself over to hang on the crumbling precipice of DEATH, & even taunted it — he dangled himself muzzle-first, faced it head on with a mug contorted by the most goddamn uncanny, daredevilishly giddy grin that he’s ever mustered,  & hocked a gooey blood-soused loogie into the gullet of death itself down below just coax a challenge from it ( ‘JUST TRY AN FUCKIN’ STOP US!!’  )

 BECAUSE HE DIDN’T HAVE TO THINK. Not anymore. He didn’t have to worry about getting too carried away & getting pulped to the point where he was too pitifully incapacitated to be able to hightail himself out of there. because he wasn’t alone this time. HE KNEW that no matter how sticky things may seem, no matter how seemingly un-clusterfuck-able of a predicament he gets himself into, RASCAL WOULD BE THERE. as stubborn of a hardass as ever, ready to pull him out of it. She’d even pull him out of a gaping black hole that threatened to guzzle their reality if she had to, &  she’s proven it countless times before. She’s traded many direct, way-up-in-the face personal  head bashes with him until it FINALLY proverbially just hit him…SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO NEVER GAVE UP ON HIM, even when his dignity got hideous… even when he was at his lowest of lows…

 ( no matter how many times or how difficult it is, WE can flip it over. )

& EVEN NOW, as they plummet down towards the earth, RASCAL WAS STILL HERE.

 where are you?

 HE REACHES FOR HER THEN, searching. a seemingly sheer blind shot with how much her shining form blearily-melded together with the blinding reentry flames that wrapped them, but SOMEHOW, HE FINDS HER without a hitch — There you are (                      of course he did; her charm was magnetic. HE WILL ALWAYS FIND HER. ). 

 & THEN HE PULLS HER IN CLOSE, centering her within his gravity —  wrapping his arms around her, chest to chest, all with such PASSIONATE INTENSITY despite his exhaustion (                     the neverending reverberations of her rhythm was CONTAGIOUS, grooving him ‘til the break of dawn ). Eagerly, he then pushes her neon star glasses up, before pressing their foreheads together… Oh, how finally getting a full-blown look at her just OGLED HIM STIFF.

 & IN THAT MOMENT, IT’S LIKE THEY HAD STARTED ALL OVER AGAIN— Those bygone days of the once legendary animosity between rascal & scourge felt like a FUCKING FEVER DREAM now more than ever; fading memories of a pathetic whelp, too deep underground in his home of delusions, who was never truly living. A whelp who once wanted to leave his very reality.

 WHERE DO WE EVER EVEN BEGIN & END, RAS?

 Maybe it was now, where scourge truly felt alive, where they could finally begin something meaningful together… & he knew just how he wanted it to start.

 NO MORE HOLDING BACK… it is a no longer restrainable urge that LURCHES scourge forward, finally crashing mouths with rascal with such giddy snappiness & WAY TOO MUCH CLACKING TEETH, accosting lips into a jittery beartrap of a set of incisors that clamped down on them a little too forcefully… before immediately lifting to tenderly & apologetically graze over where teeth had sunk… jeez, it was messy; oh was he ever the king of fiasco. & he wouldn’t have it any other way ( it was always a rocky start with everything with them… but they always figure it out in the end ). He could taste the blood from rascal’s busted mouth, blood that she shed for his sake.

It made him feel WEAK, coating his tongue with sweet submission… no longer able to hold onto the emerald’s power —

 WAIT, NO NO NO NOT YET. HE HAD TO TELL HER SOMETHING —

  ❝  RAS…— !  ❞ I LOVE YOU.                    but the confession evaporates within a once spitfire throat along with, well, EVERYTHING ELSE— literally.  & It wasn’t in a sappy ‘too tongue-tied to speak’ kind of way. Oh no, he was all too ready announce it to the fucking universe. But the heat that she emanated felt WAY TOO overwhelming now all of a sudden as he felt the invulnerability that the emeralds powered him with start to dissolve.

 BUT HE STILL DIDN’T LET GO OF HER. he will never let go.

 (                    he would have gone to HELL for her.

          &, oh, how he knew she would have stayed to BURN with him…

         — maybe in the end, they were both just meant for the FLAMES.

                                               ( no, not without ｙｏｕ. )

Examination Station || Prompt

     Anarchy Beryl Shard (Half-Processed)      ❝ You definitely shouldn't have this.❞

     Even if you weren't familiar with what Anarchy Beryl was, a small plastic bag of the half-crushed substance really didn't leave much to the imagination.

     No deliberation needed, you've done your research: Anarchy Beryl is the Moebian counterpart to the Chaos Emeralds. They're plentiful in nature, requiring a large amount of them to gain any sort of Super State, not the standard set of seven that you'll find in most mythic gems about existence.

     They're also rumored to have addictive properties, requiring larger and larger quantities to achieve the same Super State if overused. ...Though only word of mouth has made this concept known. No scientific backing has proven this point. And you certainly lack the familiarity required to confirm or deny this quandary.

     Finally, when exiting the Super State, they do not have the regenerative property that the Chaos Emeralds own. Anarchy Beryl, once it leaves the system, forces the user into an exhaustive state, weakening physical and mental faculties for a decent stint of time.

     Once again, it doesn't leave much to the imagination.

     But... there was something else about these things. Something you've heard... wasn't there?

ROLLING FOR: [HISTORY] Result: 13 (9)+4

     You wrack your brain, and though you're not quite sure if it's real, nor what the process would even be if it were, you could swear there existed a proper way to use these things. For all you know, it could simply be propaganda to get other poor individuals to use more of this stuff than they ever should. ...But you've heard mention of such a thing. Yet no further information bumps about your brain. Any workable angles escape you...

Oh it is so refreshing to talk to someone who actually remembers Moebius. On the really bad days Fiona feels like she maybe even dreamed all of it up--like back when she had tried to be a Freedom Fighter and she thought maybe she'd dreamed up Sonic leaving her behind too and tried to convince herself she probably just misremembered it or something--but then she remembers Scourge and the things he made her feel and--yeah. There's no denying Moebius was or used to be real.

It means, also, that Fiona can act like how she did in the GOOD OL DAYS. Back when she was Queen. Here on this shitty new-Mobius she has no powers, no social capital, not even a Sonic who remembered that he had wronged her deeply for her to direct her anger towards.

Fiona smiles acidly. It burns and stretches across her face, an expression she had missed, one of complete and derogatory meanness. The snarl-like smirk feels good. It feels so, so good. She's gotten too used to being disillusioned and trying to make peace with the fact that her chosen home was gone forever and she was alone yet AGAIN. Thank Gaia-or-fucking-whatever-these-new-Mobians-call-their-god that Rascal wound up here too.

@timelocker

“ Don't sweat it ,  kid . ”   In truth he doesn't mind a little violence ,  maybe in a bit more conventional time &  place .  She'd make a pretty good sparring partner ,  too . “  My looks got me in jail a couple times ,  but now I could say they're criminally good . ”

     —Ew, what is that thing...? It had the gumption of one of the hedgehog's friends, but... he had never seen it before. The choking surveillance of the Eggman Empire spanned a wide breadth of the planet, and it had pinged with a significant and foreign energy spike on one of many latent scanners scattered about. Had to keep up to date on whatever new forms of energy were out and about to use and abuse~!

     Ah... no, but seriously, someone get a ping on her, he needed to investigate this thoroughly. From a point of morbid curiosity, the creature's signatures would be put through its paces inside the EggNet database, machines sifting to see if any trace flecks ring similar to anything it had previously encountered. All the while, some projection machines can whisk themselves away to the animal's location. He wanted to speak to it.

     Hm... let's see, let's see. Several recordings show the standard feats of heightened agility and strength. None that quite superceded the likes of the pincusion and knucklehead, but it's still worth noting. —Oh! That emission scan had finally finished prying into that faint energy emanating off of her, how lovely~! Nothing was giving a direct match, but it seemed to equate to some sliver of...

     The Time Eater's prowess. Time-based abilities, then? Well-well...! Consider the EGGMAN intrigued. It was frustrating not being able to tell just what she was capable of; she could have the ability to turn back time by a second, and no longer, for all he knew... Ah, oh well. Suppose this is why the curious mind thrived! It'd do anything to receive its answers.

     That creature. The small, unkempt one. Whether they noticed or not, something would be swiftly rounding the corner to their location. It was a small squadron of flying, navy blue-colored... bugs. Metallic bugs. Bugs with large eyes on the side and a camera's lens at their front. Shutterbugs. Though they would do no flashing, no picture-taking in the slightest. Unbeknownst to the creature, she had already been captured plenty.

     No-no, the small crowd of Badniks was quite orderly, as a matter of fact. They would become lines and stacks, forming a small five-by-five grid. Their cameras would flash once, and then the projection of a man would alight at their collective front.