Drabble dump
Three drabbles, all KatC-ish... the second is RPbased.
Mighty admittedly wasn't a big fan of snow. Perhaps it was the simply because of the bad mix of armadillos and cold. Or perhaps it was because winter constricted his movements. Perhaps it was because plants and nature withered and died. Either way, he didn't like it.
Yet here he was, standing right outside, waiting for the first snowfall.
It wasn't something he pretended to understand. He just felt inclined to do it.
He kept his eyes on the sky and waited.
It was indeed cold, cold enough to make the armadillo shiver. It was unpleasant for him to be there, yet there was a tinge of stubborness that made him stay. He sighed.
"I thought you hated the cold."
Knuckles's sudden appearance nearby nearly made the younger boy jump. Nearly. But by now he had accustomed himself to the echidna's tendancy to appear out of nowhere.
"I do."
He heard the Guardian shift, shoes crunching on the ground, and move next to him. And that provided him some warmth, so he was happy.
"So why stand around in it?"
"I'm waiting for the first snowfall." His eyes had shifted from the sky to the echidna.
"Ah." There was a pause, "... They're not that special. Just frozen rain."
Trust him to be blunt. Mighty had to smile at that, just a little. "I know. But I've never seen it. And I want to."
"And this urge is so strong you're willing to get yourself sick for it?"
Mighty smiled openly at that. "Yep!"
"You are a strange one."
"So why are you here, then?" Mighty folded his arms loosely. It wasn't a gesture of unhappiness, rather, it was an effort to warm himself.
"I'm here to make sure you don't get yourself sick," his tone was so flat the armadillo couldn't tell whether or not he was serious or not.
"By standing here?"
And the echidna smiled, just a little.
"...Yes. By standing here."
"Your powers are indeed great."
"Mm." Another pause, "Snow."
The armadillo blinked. "Um?"
Knuckles's hand was up, pointing, and the armadillo noticed that the snowfall had started - and he had missed it. The sky was now full of bits of white, slowly descending upon them.
"Ah!" regardless, he was delighted, "Snow!"
He was almost childlike in his joy, the echidna noted, glancing between the armadillo and the armadillo's object(s) of fascination. There was a glow in his face, and perhaps if Knuckles was easily amused he would have laughed. But he was and he did not, he simply watched the armadillo make a futile (and silly. Quite silly) attempt to catch some snowflakes. And then he allowed himself a small smile.
"You really are a strange one."
But to be honest, the Guardian didn't think either of them cared very much about that fact.
This one was written for a challenge at NR.org
--
“I failed.”
He wasn’t sure why he had said it out loud. She was sleeping; he was sure of that. There was no one else around. He didn’t like to talk to himself.
The words echoed, but only in his mind. He clenched his fists and looked down at her. Every bruise, every bandage - things that weren’t covered by the blanket. He didn’t have to look under the blanket. He knew the wounds were there. The fact that there were wounds, so many, so deep - was a slap in the face to him. He gritted his teeth and looked away. The wounds on her. Mocked him. Just like his title.
Guardian.
He let out a short, derisive laugh at that. A gag reflex. He wasn’t sure why. It didn’t matter. He unclenched his fists and clenched them again.
Guardian.
For all his power, for all his expertise, for all - everything - he had been helpless. Utterly utterly helpless to stop those wounds from happening. To stop that… that snake… from putting her filthy hands -
The memory only served to incense him further. If he was a person who cried, he might have cried then. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. He simply unclenched and clenched his fists again. He was the reason she had gotten hurt; more salt thrown in. The girl had suffered - was suffering, he corrected himself, because of him.
And to top it off he was helpless nearly the entire time.
That thought made his blood boil.
It was not supposed to be this way. He was the Guardian. The protector. He was supposed to protect and guard. He briefly considered sending her away - but that would solve nothing. The thought was gone, as quickly as it had came. They’d still come. And he wouldn’t be there at all.
It had not been this way with the Master Emerald. The one time it was broken - the few times it was jeopardized (yet saved, one way or another). But the Master Emerald was a gem - a gem of incredible power, an entity. But it could stay in the palace. This was a living breathing girl who had a mind of her own and somehow got herself into dangerous situations whenever he took his eyes off of her for five minutes or more. He considered her frail even though she could hold her own relatively well. Despite her prowess, she was small and skinny, and far weaker than he. She was currently asleep, and that only enforced this opinion. If he didn’t know her he’d be drawn to protect her - because it was his nature.
And now apparently his nature was to fail. This wasn’t the first failure. Nor was she the only one he failed to protect. And that frustrated him, more. RK’s earlier words came back to bite him.
“It happens, Knuckles. You aren't a god who can control everything around him. If you're going to allow yourself to care about her, think of her as your protectee, whatever, it's something you have to accept. You have a hard time just helping yourself. Like today.”
That only made him angrier. Not only that he was RK, the threatening Mighty had told him about earlier - and that attitude - but the words themselves. The last line was an utter lie - most times. He had periods of weakness that he was no means proud of, but the android had made him out to be a weak helpless little boy.
He also assumed that he had control over his caring. Which he did not. He could try and suppress it, try and cut it off maybe, but what good would that do, assuming it would even work? The damage had been done already. And it would continue.
He sighed. The anger was beginning to drain out of him, leaving him feeling empty. The girl stirred slightly in her sleep, mumbling something he didn’t quite catch. There was a frown on her face, which made him scowl in turn. He quietly moved closer to her and grasped her hand. He wasn’t sure what good it would do, but he felt slightly better. Perhaps because it was tangible. The frown disappeared - her neutral look returned. So it had helped.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. She smiled slightly at his voice. Two emotions rose to this, they were mingled. A tinge of pain and a twinge of happiness. Typical.
He’d start being around her more, he decided. Or having someone watch her. Part one of protecting was being attentive and alert. He toyed with the idea of taping her to the Master Emerald, and it brought a smile to his face, albeit small. His mood was beginning to lift when he realized he was smiling, and quickly reverted to a scowl. He had failed. He was in no position to be happy and smiling. She had gotten badly hurt, humiliated, and -- … he ended that trail of thought there. And because he had failed.
He let out another quiet sigh. He was not the person to do so, but it seemed to happen without him noticing. He saw her stir again, eyes opening blearily.
”Hey…” she smiled again.
”Go back to sleep. You need rest.”
”You should rest, too.”
”Hmph.” He didn’t grace the statement with more answer than that.
”You’re so hard on yourself, Knuckles.”
”As hard as I need to be.”
She frowned at him, “You’re only mobian, you know.”
That was the second time he had heard that. Mighty had said it, and of course she would agree with him.
There was a pause. And then, slightly softer.
”…Go back to sleep.”
She gave his hand a small squeeze. It didn’t comfort him in the least, but he appreciated the gesture (or tried to.) Then she closed her eyes again, and her body relaxed. As much as she claimed to hate being protected, he was there - she was aware that he was - and he gave no indication of leaving before the night was over. Possibly even longer. And she was sleeping with a smile on her face.
He found he had to smile, too. Just a little. But that smile didn’t change anything - failure or no, he was still a Guardian. And he’d make sure he stopped failing.
One way or another.
My last RP arc with Em, Blood Ties, ended on an angsty note ;; (Angsty for Knuckles, anyway) So I wrote this.
--
“You look better in red.”
She had heard those words before. From him, even. As he said that, he drew his finger along her side, along the cut. She shivered at his touch. He smiled as she did. There were few things he could do to get such of a reaction out of her, but that one worked every time. He was gentle, simply collecting blood. Pain would come later.
“My colour.”
Now that his finger was red, he spread the blood across her lips. At his words, her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she gave him a small, weak smirk.
“His colour.”
The change in his demeanor was instant - the smile disappeared, instead replaced with a fearsome scowl. The flat of his blades slammed into the side of her face, causing her head to jerk away. The smirk remained, however.
“No. MY colour.”
That smirk was infuriating. He didn’t stop hitting her, but the smirk stayed. After a moment, he stopped, drew back. His finger was still dripping with her blood. He pried her mouth open with his pinky and middle fingers, and then the bloody index finger went in. The smirk was gone within a second, and the new expression was nearly horror. She gagged and choked, and now he was smirking.
“Where is your puppy?” he cooed, lodging his finger deeper in, “You’re so quick to talk of him, so quick to think he will save you, that he loves you-“ he sneered, “And where is he? Nowhere near here. You’re MINE. The sooner you understand that, the better.”
She didn’t respond. She was looking at him, but not at him. Through him. He withdrew his index finger, letting her gag for a second, and then hit her again.
”Knuckles doesn’t love you. You're nothing to him.”
Her eyes met his. “I know.”
That didn’t improve his mood. He sneered down at her. “Good girl. So stop defying me.”
She moved her head slightly, turning away from him. He grabbed her face and forced her to look back at him, thick fingers digging into the flesh. She didn’t even flinch.
”Tell me that you love me,” his voice was a purr near her ears, as their faces were much to close for her comfort. “Say it, kitten.”
She scowled and glared at him, eyes flashing as he spoke. The corners of his lips turned up.
”I have a name.”
”Your name is whatever I call you, dear. We’ve been through this. You’re mine. I will beat that into you if necessary. Tell me that you love me.”
No response. He took her left hand and crushed it. He felt her body tense at that, but otherwise, she did not react. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this, Az. You will give in, one way or another - you’re only drawing it out and making it more painful for you.”
”Go to hell.”
He could tell she was hoping to provoke him with that comment. But he wasn’t angry. Rather, he was smiling. Her facial expression was still as fierce, but he saw the tinge of uncertainty behind it. He was drawing his fingers across one of her open wounds now, still gently. She tried not to shiver and failed.
”Say it.”
Nothing. His smile only widened, and he bent over the wound, and began licking at it. The shivering became more violent, to the point of trembling.
”S-stop it…”
”Say it,” he responded.
Nothing.
He pressed harder, and the shaking became worse. He lifted his head abruptly to observe her expression - there was discomfort and almost-fear. Almost. Not good enough.
”Say it.”
Nothing.
Ahh… The best part.
He returned to the wound. Not to lick this time, but to lap. To gather. He worked at it until his mechanical mouth was full - relishing the tiny noise, the almost-whimper she gave. And then he drew himself up, grasped her head, and kissed her. She struggled. She moaned. She tried to cough and gag and hack but he would not let her.
He spoke. She couldn’t make out the words, but she didn’t have to. She felt him smile widely, and struggled harder. It did her no good. Her eyes were open, locked with his. There was a smugness in his. He knew he had won. And she knew it, too. Her eyes were burning, but she would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
That was the only thing she could do. He pulled away suddenly, looking at her expectantly. She was in a coughing fit, trying to get the blood out. She had swallowed some, and was going to vomit later, but that didn’t concern him. He waited until she spoke.
”I love you.”
“That’s a good girl.” RK gave a rough pat on the head, smirking widely. “I’ll see you in the morning. Be more compliant tomorrow, kitten.”
She hung her head in shame and did not respond.
KatC based, didn't actually happen though. RK needs a hobby :D (This is creepy)
THAT'S ALL FOR NOW
Mighty admittedly wasn't a big fan of snow. Perhaps it was the simply because of the bad mix of armadillos and cold. Or perhaps it was because winter constricted his movements. Perhaps it was because plants and nature withered and died. Either way, he didn't like it.
Yet here he was, standing right outside, waiting for the first snowfall.
It wasn't something he pretended to understand. He just felt inclined to do it.
He kept his eyes on the sky and waited.
It was indeed cold, cold enough to make the armadillo shiver. It was unpleasant for him to be there, yet there was a tinge of stubborness that made him stay. He sighed.
"I thought you hated the cold."
Knuckles's sudden appearance nearby nearly made the younger boy jump. Nearly. But by now he had accustomed himself to the echidna's tendancy to appear out of nowhere.
"I do."
He heard the Guardian shift, shoes crunching on the ground, and move next to him. And that provided him some warmth, so he was happy.
"So why stand around in it?"
"I'm waiting for the first snowfall." His eyes had shifted from the sky to the echidna.
"Ah." There was a pause, "... They're not that special. Just frozen rain."
Trust him to be blunt. Mighty had to smile at that, just a little. "I know. But I've never seen it. And I want to."
"And this urge is so strong you're willing to get yourself sick for it?"
Mighty smiled openly at that. "Yep!"
"You are a strange one."
"So why are you here, then?" Mighty folded his arms loosely. It wasn't a gesture of unhappiness, rather, it was an effort to warm himself.
"I'm here to make sure you don't get yourself sick," his tone was so flat the armadillo couldn't tell whether or not he was serious or not.
"By standing here?"
And the echidna smiled, just a little.
"...Yes. By standing here."
"Your powers are indeed great."
"Mm." Another pause, "Snow."
The armadillo blinked. "Um?"
Knuckles's hand was up, pointing, and the armadillo noticed that the snowfall had started - and he had missed it. The sky was now full of bits of white, slowly descending upon them.
"Ah!" regardless, he was delighted, "Snow!"
He was almost childlike in his joy, the echidna noted, glancing between the armadillo and the armadillo's object(s) of fascination. There was a glow in his face, and perhaps if Knuckles was easily amused he would have laughed. But he was and he did not, he simply watched the armadillo make a futile (and silly. Quite silly) attempt to catch some snowflakes. And then he allowed himself a small smile.
"You really are a strange one."
But to be honest, the Guardian didn't think either of them cared very much about that fact.
This one was written for a challenge at NR.org
--
“I failed.”
He wasn’t sure why he had said it out loud. She was sleeping; he was sure of that. There was no one else around. He didn’t like to talk to himself.
The words echoed, but only in his mind. He clenched his fists and looked down at her. Every bruise, every bandage - things that weren’t covered by the blanket. He didn’t have to look under the blanket. He knew the wounds were there. The fact that there were wounds, so many, so deep - was a slap in the face to him. He gritted his teeth and looked away. The wounds on her. Mocked him. Just like his title.
Guardian.
He let out a short, derisive laugh at that. A gag reflex. He wasn’t sure why. It didn’t matter. He unclenched his fists and clenched them again.
Guardian.
For all his power, for all his expertise, for all - everything - he had been helpless. Utterly utterly helpless to stop those wounds from happening. To stop that… that snake… from putting her filthy hands -
The memory only served to incense him further. If he was a person who cried, he might have cried then. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. He simply unclenched and clenched his fists again. He was the reason she had gotten hurt; more salt thrown in. The girl had suffered - was suffering, he corrected himself, because of him.
And to top it off he was helpless nearly the entire time.
That thought made his blood boil.
It was not supposed to be this way. He was the Guardian. The protector. He was supposed to protect and guard. He briefly considered sending her away - but that would solve nothing. The thought was gone, as quickly as it had came. They’d still come. And he wouldn’t be there at all.
It had not been this way with the Master Emerald. The one time it was broken - the few times it was jeopardized (yet saved, one way or another). But the Master Emerald was a gem - a gem of incredible power, an entity. But it could stay in the palace. This was a living breathing girl who had a mind of her own and somehow got herself into dangerous situations whenever he took his eyes off of her for five minutes or more. He considered her frail even though she could hold her own relatively well. Despite her prowess, she was small and skinny, and far weaker than he. She was currently asleep, and that only enforced this opinion. If he didn’t know her he’d be drawn to protect her - because it was his nature.
And now apparently his nature was to fail. This wasn’t the first failure. Nor was she the only one he failed to protect. And that frustrated him, more. RK’s earlier words came back to bite him.
“It happens, Knuckles. You aren't a god who can control everything around him. If you're going to allow yourself to care about her, think of her as your protectee, whatever, it's something you have to accept. You have a hard time just helping yourself. Like today.”
That only made him angrier. Not only that he was RK, the threatening Mighty had told him about earlier - and that attitude - but the words themselves. The last line was an utter lie - most times. He had periods of weakness that he was no means proud of, but the android had made him out to be a weak helpless little boy.
He also assumed that he had control over his caring. Which he did not. He could try and suppress it, try and cut it off maybe, but what good would that do, assuming it would even work? The damage had been done already. And it would continue.
He sighed. The anger was beginning to drain out of him, leaving him feeling empty. The girl stirred slightly in her sleep, mumbling something he didn’t quite catch. There was a frown on her face, which made him scowl in turn. He quietly moved closer to her and grasped her hand. He wasn’t sure what good it would do, but he felt slightly better. Perhaps because it was tangible. The frown disappeared - her neutral look returned. So it had helped.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. She smiled slightly at his voice. Two emotions rose to this, they were mingled. A tinge of pain and a twinge of happiness. Typical.
He’d start being around her more, he decided. Or having someone watch her. Part one of protecting was being attentive and alert. He toyed with the idea of taping her to the Master Emerald, and it brought a smile to his face, albeit small. His mood was beginning to lift when he realized he was smiling, and quickly reverted to a scowl. He had failed. He was in no position to be happy and smiling. She had gotten badly hurt, humiliated, and -- … he ended that trail of thought there. And because he had failed.
He let out another quiet sigh. He was not the person to do so, but it seemed to happen without him noticing. He saw her stir again, eyes opening blearily.
”Hey…” she smiled again.
”Go back to sleep. You need rest.”
”You should rest, too.”
”Hmph.” He didn’t grace the statement with more answer than that.
”You’re so hard on yourself, Knuckles.”
”As hard as I need to be.”
She frowned at him, “You’re only mobian, you know.”
That was the second time he had heard that. Mighty had said it, and of course she would agree with him.
There was a pause. And then, slightly softer.
”…Go back to sleep.”
She gave his hand a small squeeze. It didn’t comfort him in the least, but he appreciated the gesture (or tried to.) Then she closed her eyes again, and her body relaxed. As much as she claimed to hate being protected, he was there - she was aware that he was - and he gave no indication of leaving before the night was over. Possibly even longer. And she was sleeping with a smile on her face.
He found he had to smile, too. Just a little. But that smile didn’t change anything - failure or no, he was still a Guardian. And he’d make sure he stopped failing.
One way or another.
My last RP arc with Em, Blood Ties, ended on an angsty note ;; (Angsty for Knuckles, anyway) So I wrote this.
--
“You look better in red.”
She had heard those words before. From him, even. As he said that, he drew his finger along her side, along the cut. She shivered at his touch. He smiled as she did. There were few things he could do to get such of a reaction out of her, but that one worked every time. He was gentle, simply collecting blood. Pain would come later.
“My colour.”
Now that his finger was red, he spread the blood across her lips. At his words, her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she gave him a small, weak smirk.
“His colour.”
The change in his demeanor was instant - the smile disappeared, instead replaced with a fearsome scowl. The flat of his blades slammed into the side of her face, causing her head to jerk away. The smirk remained, however.
“No. MY colour.”
That smirk was infuriating. He didn’t stop hitting her, but the smirk stayed. After a moment, he stopped, drew back. His finger was still dripping with her blood. He pried her mouth open with his pinky and middle fingers, and then the bloody index finger went in. The smirk was gone within a second, and the new expression was nearly horror. She gagged and choked, and now he was smirking.
“Where is your puppy?” he cooed, lodging his finger deeper in, “You’re so quick to talk of him, so quick to think he will save you, that he loves you-“ he sneered, “And where is he? Nowhere near here. You’re MINE. The sooner you understand that, the better.”
She didn’t respond. She was looking at him, but not at him. Through him. He withdrew his index finger, letting her gag for a second, and then hit her again.
”Knuckles doesn’t love you. You're nothing to him.”
Her eyes met his. “I know.”
That didn’t improve his mood. He sneered down at her. “Good girl. So stop defying me.”
She moved her head slightly, turning away from him. He grabbed her face and forced her to look back at him, thick fingers digging into the flesh. She didn’t even flinch.
”Tell me that you love me,” his voice was a purr near her ears, as their faces were much to close for her comfort. “Say it, kitten.”
She scowled and glared at him, eyes flashing as he spoke. The corners of his lips turned up.
”I have a name.”
”Your name is whatever I call you, dear. We’ve been through this. You’re mine. I will beat that into you if necessary. Tell me that you love me.”
No response. He took her left hand and crushed it. He felt her body tense at that, but otherwise, she did not react. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this, Az. You will give in, one way or another - you’re only drawing it out and making it more painful for you.”
”Go to hell.”
He could tell she was hoping to provoke him with that comment. But he wasn’t angry. Rather, he was smiling. Her facial expression was still as fierce, but he saw the tinge of uncertainty behind it. He was drawing his fingers across one of her open wounds now, still gently. She tried not to shiver and failed.
”Say it.”
Nothing. His smile only widened, and he bent over the wound, and began licking at it. The shivering became more violent, to the point of trembling.
”S-stop it…”
”Say it,” he responded.
Nothing.
He pressed harder, and the shaking became worse. He lifted his head abruptly to observe her expression - there was discomfort and almost-fear. Almost. Not good enough.
”Say it.”
Nothing.
Ahh… The best part.
He returned to the wound. Not to lick this time, but to lap. To gather. He worked at it until his mechanical mouth was full - relishing the tiny noise, the almost-whimper she gave. And then he drew himself up, grasped her head, and kissed her. She struggled. She moaned. She tried to cough and gag and hack but he would not let her.
He spoke. She couldn’t make out the words, but she didn’t have to. She felt him smile widely, and struggled harder. It did her no good. Her eyes were open, locked with his. There was a smugness in his. He knew he had won. And she knew it, too. Her eyes were burning, but she would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
That was the only thing she could do. He pulled away suddenly, looking at her expectantly. She was in a coughing fit, trying to get the blood out. She had swallowed some, and was going to vomit later, but that didn’t concern him. He waited until she spoke.
”I love you.”
“That’s a good girl.” RK gave a rough pat on the head, smirking widely. “I’ll see you in the morning. Be more compliant tomorrow, kitten.”
She hung her head in shame and did not respond.
KatC based, didn't actually happen though. RK needs a hobby :D (This is creepy)
THAT'S ALL FOR NOW