#then he wouldn’t be QUITE as consistently quick to dismiss people off his island

[brucenorris007]

Who. Taught. Knuckles. Speech????

All y’all going on about Sonic being nonverbal in his early years, KNUCKLES LITERALLY RAISED HIMSELF.

He survived purely on the basis that basically nothing on Angel Island could kill him and his own wits

He was otherwise completely alone with only other nonverbal company for YEARS, probably close to a decade before Sonic and Tails came along

My only working theory is that Eggman used the entirety of his abandoned pursuit of a teaching degree to give the Echidna a grasp of language before Sonic caught up to the crashed Death Egg

This would also explain the unfortunate instances of occasional sexism from Knuckles in some of his earlier iterations; Eggman would tell you nowadays that he was never That Guy, but he absolutely was and still is That Guy

[tloujm]

Part XVII: Funnel of Love

Author’s Notes: Sorry it took so long.

Genre: Fluff + Angst = this chapter

Summary: This takes place right after the last chapter. The newly engaged couple share the news with their loved ones. The wedding planning pressure is on. 

Ship: Joel x Reader

“Well, well, well. Big bro is doing it for real this time, huh.” Tommy began with a wide grin on his face. “Congratulations, Joel. I mean it. I always knew it was gonna be the two of you since the first day y’all showed up at the gates.” Joel relieved one of the watchtower guards so he could talk to Tommy about the proposal. They were both up in the small wooden shelter, rifles in hand, glancing between each other and the world beyond the gates.

“Thanks, brother.” Joel donned a bashful smirk.

“So do I get to be best man?” Tommy asked.

“Weren’t you already best man?” Joel countered.

“Yeah, but that time didn’t really count.” Tommy explained. Joel shot him a glare as a response to the dismissal of his first marriage. He knew that this time was different though, so he couldn’t blame him.

“‘Course you’re my best man.”

*****

“Joel? Miller? Of the infamous Miller brothers?” Jesse exclaimed.

“You knew we were together.” You said. Jesse was your closest friend at the settlement, therefore, he was the first person you told. You had reservations about sharing the news with him because, for a moment while you and Joel were broken up, you grew feelings for Jesse. It was something you never shared out loud or in your journal. Not sure of whether the feelings truly stemmed from Jesse himself or your emotions from Joel, you didn’t feel right giving weight to those thoughts. Despite Joel’s suggestion, you always figured Jesse’s feelings were purely platonic anyway.

“Yeah, I know. It just seems very official. I didn’t think people still did that these days.”

“He did manage to surprise me. It was very romantic. You should take some notes just in case you feel compelled to do the same with a special somebody.”

“Take notes? From Joel? Miller? I can be quite romantic on my own, thank you.” Jesse turned to you. “But listen, I’m happy for you. Whatever you need for your upcoming nuptials, let me know.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You responded. It fell silent for a moment while the two of you were cleaning up the stable. 

“I bet you Joel can get you guys a senior discount on a wedding cake from the bakery.” Jesse spoke up. He broke into a fit of laughter as you dropped your broom and threw a handful of hay at him.

“He is not even that old.” You responded defensively.

“No, no. He’s just regular old.” Jesse reasoned jokingly.

“He’s young at heart!”

“(Y/N), He plays the guitar on a rocking chair and whittles for fun.”

“He does other things for fun that I can tell you right now he is not too old for.” You replied with a coy tone in your voice. 

“Alright, alright.” Jesse shook his head playfully and continued sweeping up the straw on the ground. “The jury is still out on how old he is, but I suppose we can both agree that he’s not geriatric.” He reflexively ducked when he heard you drop the broom again to pick up some more hay. 

“So I’m invited to the wedding then?” He asked seriously.

“Of course you are! You’re my best friend.” You replied.

He clears his throat. “Yeah…”

*****

“Honey, I’m home.” Joel said. The words flew out his mouth in a jovial tone. He had never said those words before. It reminded him of a husband from the 1950s coming home from a day at the office. That particular visual didn’t enthuse him, but the idea of seeing you again did. He knew that he’d never wear a suit and work in an office, but he hoped that the rest of his life consisted of coming home to you.

“My love, I’m in here.” Your voice carried from the kitchen. He quickly followed until he stopped right behind you. His arms snaked around your waist as he kissed the top of your head. “What did you do today?”

“I spent some time with Tommy.” He went to go sit down at the island.

“Oh?”

“He asked how our trip went.” He began. You turned to face him.

“You told him about us?” You asked, smiling. He nodded.

“Yeah,” He chuckled. “He asked to be my best man. Did you tell Maria?”

“Yeah, I told her after Jesse.”

“Oh good. He knows.” He began sarcastically. “I better stop catchin’ him gazing at my bride then.”

“Joel, stop. He always knew we were together. But as for Maria, she was super excited. She started talking about wedding stuff like we weren’t living in some fungal zombie infested world. It’s not like I can go dress shopping, or cake tasting or pick out venues. I mean honestly, what’s the point of a wedding?”

“You don’t wanna have a wedding?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “All I want is to get married to you. She was just planning it all out the second I told her and I was feeling overwhelmed.”

“She’s just excited. Take a breath then go back and talk to her. If anyone’s got the connections to throw a wedding, it’s her.”

“What was your wedding like?” You asked.

“You wanna know?” You nodded. He sighed. “It wasn’t much. We cut costs wherever we could so I wore a hand-me-down suit from my dad and Tommy wore a hand-me-down suit from me. The only thing that matched on our suits were the buteniers. It was in one of her aunt’s backyard. It was dead in the middle of summer after school let out, but the only decorations were red, green and blue Christmas tree lights that she put on the bushes. I remember her aunt tasked me and Tommy with going to get some flowers. She gave us some money, but my God, I had no idea how expensive real flowers were. I bought Sarah’s mom a bouquet from the florist while Tommy dumpster dived for some dying flowers that they had just thrown out for the rest of the wedding party.” He shrugged. “The ceremony was quick. The reception was a potluck; everyone brought a dish and their own fold out chairs. Outside of my cousin singing a song, the music was from a boombox. It was simple, but it all came together. I had my own issues with my parents and her side of the family didn’t like me much after I knocked her up, but for that one day, we all got along and it was nice.” 

“Oh. Wow. At least everyone got along.”

He chuckled. “I know it was nothing impressive. It was a shotgun wedding for a couple of teenagers. But I don’t want you to worry about how that went. What matters is now and how we want things to go for us.”

You smiled. “Our wedding can go the exact same way and I wouldn’t care so long as you’re there.”

****

“So,” Maria slammed down a stack of wedding magazines on the coffee table. “I think looking through these would be a good start.”

Maria invited you and some other women over one evening to have a girls night. She had never done this before, but she felt your impending marriage was a good excuse to have one. You didn’t have many female friends. Most were acquaintances, so none of them were as close as Maria and Wendy to you. They were there, but so were a handful of others you’ve only ever spoken to in passing.

Maria had a growing wine collection. She would trade for a bottle or two every so often. For your special occasion, she dusted off two bottles. Wendy made you a homemade pin that said “Bride to be” which she insisted you wear all night. Maria passed the magazines all around the circle you guys made on the floor.

“Maria, where did you get all of these.” You asked.

“I’ve had them all this time. While I was on a scavenging trip one day, and this was years and years ago, I saw them and grabbed them. It was impulsive. I don’t know. Me and Tommy had been together for a while and you know, naturally I started hearing wedding bells even though he never really proposed. I know it's silly to expect happiness in the middle of all this craziness, but it became normal for him and I and despite all this, he stuck by my side. I spent my whole life pre-outbreak wanting a wedding. I mean I wasn’t obsessed with it, but what girl doesn’t want a little fairytale wedding?”

“Tommy never proposed? I thought you guys were married?” Sheila spoke up in between sips.

“We’re basically married. Obviously not under law, but we committed ourselves to each other. I wanted to stop running and just build a future, even a tiny one, for us. He wanted the same. So we settled down and built this place. Well ‘settle down’ as much as we can in this type of world now. But, it was all casual. He brought it up one day while we were eating. He asked if I’d ever want a husband. He asked if it mattered to me.”

“What did you say?” Wendy asked.

“I told him, of course it mattered. At least to me. He gave me that famous Miller half smile,” Maria looked to you as to say ‘You know what I’m talking about’. “And asked if I thought he was husband material. I kinda strung him along for fun. I told him ‘As close to husband material as he can get’. He let out this little laugh and said ‘Well it’s settled then.’ and I thought to myself, I get to be someone’s wife! But not just anyone’s wife, his wife. At that point I couldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t a proposal in the traditional sense. I guess it still counts, but we never did anything about it since. I guess we just assumed marriage from that point on. We expressed our love for each other, but never spoke the traditional vows. He never called me his fiance. As a matter of fact, the first time I heard him call me his wife to another person was when you and Joel showed up at our door.” She spoke in a roller coaster of tones, switching between enthusiastic and disappointed. “So I want you to have something special to commemorate this moment with. It’s not going to be a big, fancy wedding, but something nice nonetheless.” She said to you.

“Thank you.” You replied.

“Ohhh, look at this dress! I think this would go great with your figure, honey.” Darlene stated as she handed you the opened magazine. You admitted it was nice, but you couldn't see yourself in it. 

“That’s a bit plain, don’t you think? How about this one.” Maria handed you her magazine. The dress was exceptionally grand. It had a train and was adorned with crystals and lace.

“That’s quite the dress, Maria.” You commented, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

“But do you like it?” She asked.

“I do,” It wasn’t a whole lie. “But what’s the point in looking at dresses? I’m not gonna be wearing any of them from these magazines. I don’t own any white dresses at all. Just a white t shirt with sweat stains and holes in ‘em.”

“It doesn’t hurt to fantasize a little bit. Besides, maybe we’ll go out and find a store with something nice to wear inside.” She replied. 

“Drink up, honey, you're supposed to be happy.” Darlene said as she watched you nurse your glass.

“I am happy.” You replied with a straight face.

“Let’s play This or That and let’s pretend it was 13 years ago and the world was normal again. I’ll ask you to choose between two different things, wedding themed of course. I want you to give me an answer quickly to ensure it’s the truest answer.” Maria suggested.

“What were you doing 13 years ago?” Darlene asked you.

“Just graduated college. Didn’t even get a chance to apply my degree anywhere.”

“Oh, you were just a youngin’. Still had milk ‘hind your ears.” She playfully slapped your thigh. “And let’s see...Joel must have been how old…” She pondered seriously.

“Vanilla or chocolate?” Maria spoke up.

“What?” You asked.

“Cake. Vanilla or chocolate for your wedding cake?”

“Uh, chocolate.”

“Outdoor or indoor venue?”

“Indoor, I guess.”

“DJ or band?”

“DJ?”

“Lillies or Peonies for your bouquet?”

“I don’t think I know what peonies look like, to be honest.”

For the rest of the night, you and the other women played wedding themed games that you were sure Maria made up. They fiddled with your hair and dabbed beet juice on your lips and cheeks to appear as makeup. Despite Darlene rubbing you the wrong way, you took her advice and ‘drunk up’. Getting loose helped, but it still was all a bit overwhelming to you. Part of you wanted the fairytale like Maria said, but part of you didn’t even want it at all. While a fairytale would look nice, it would come with too many cons and then you would think ‘what was the point’. There would be too many people, and as an introvert, you weren’t prepared for that. Having to coordinate a large amount of food to feed the party, acquire a form of entertainment to keep everyone busy, ceremony rehearsals, picking loyalties when choosing between your sister in law and your good friend for made of honor and so on. Honestly none of your female friends were as close to you as Jesse, though, but you didn’t think he nor Joel would be cool with him being your main bridesmaid. 

Still buzzed, you walked into your empty house and beelined it to the bathroom. You sat at the edge of the tub, warm water running through your fingers as you watched it fill up. You grabbed your portable CD player and headphones out the drawer next to the toilet. You adjusted yourself into the inviting bath and immediately slipped your head under the surface. Being underwater was always a relaxing feeling for you so long as you knew you were in control. Your hands held onto the sides of the tub, keeping you under. You stayed there with your eyes closed until you couldn’t take it anymore. The curls of your hair laid flat against your head as you took in a large breath. As weird as it was, it helped the anxiety that you were currently harboring. The cherry on top was your music. You reached over the edge and felt for the play button before sliding the headphones over your ears. Again, you closed your eyes. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular: your patrol duty tomorrow morning, your promise to have lunch with Maria and Darlene, and sure as hell not your wedding. 

The buzz was wearing off, but the warm water took over the job and continued to relax your muscles. You were three songs into the album you were listening to when they abruptly tensed up. Your eyes popped open at the sudden splash of water that landed on your chest. It felt as though only a moment ago you were alone in the world and now sitting on the edge of the tub is Joel. He watched as you scooted up, sloshing the water around. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to splash you that hard.” He chuckled before pointing to your CD player. “You gotta be careful with this, (Y/N), you know. Gotta have your wits about you even in a place like Jackson---”

“I know, I just wanted to unwind for a moment---” You butted in.

“I don’t mean to chastise you like you’re a child, but I just want you to be safe. What if it wasn’t me here.”

“All the doors are locked.” You reasoned.

“Still.” He gave you his famous glare for a solid moment before his eyes drifted down to your body in the water. “Room for one more?” He lifted his eyebrow.

You frowned. “I was about to get out.”

“Didn’t look like that to me, darlin’. If I’d chosen to watch you for longer, you’d still be laying there with your eyes closed.”

“How long were you watching me for?” You asked, starting to feel a mix of self consciousness and arousal.

“Doesn’t matter.” Joel’s face was rid of emotion save from his eyes. His eyes were lit up with lust despite your rejection.

“The water was getting cold. I was just waiting for the song to end before getting out.”

He lifted the same eyebrow. “Is that so?” His eyes followed your body as you stood up in the tub. He unfolded his arms and grabbed the towel on the back of the door. Holding it out, you stepped out of the tub and into the soft fabric. He slid his hands up your arms before massaging your shoulders. His hands were rough and ungentle, but you still let him continue. “Baby, tell me what’s wrong. Who hurt you? I’ll go grab Tommy’s bat and smash their kneecaps in.”

You chuckled. “While I’m sure you would,” You turned around, releasing your shoulders from his grip. “No one hurt me. I’m just...I just got some stuff on my mind.”

“Care to share?” He asked. You shrugged. “Was it something that happened at Maria’s?”

“She threw me a bridal shower.”

He sat on the toilet and pulled you down onto his lap. “That was nice of her.”

“I mean yeah, it was nice. It just...It felt forced. Women were there that I hardly knew. We were planning the wedding, imagining details I knew would never work. I feel like Maria wants this to happen more than I do and I hate that. I should want this the most. I mean I do want this,” You point between you and him. “But I just don’t know how I want to go about it. I thought seeing her again would help me make up my mind about things, but I feel just as confused and flustered.”

He kissed your shoulder. “I don’t want you to stress out over this. It’ll all work out, because the most important thing in the end is that we have each other. I promise,” He kissed your shoulder again. “Ok?” He waited for you to say it back before tapping your thigh. “Now, just because you didn’t want me to get in with you doesn’t mean I don’t want a nice, relaxing bath too. Last chance before you put your clothes on.” He pointed between you, him and the tub as if asking for you to join him. 

You smile with a shake of your head. “No, my skin is all wrinkly but I promise to only keep the towel on if you promise not to make me wait long.” You winked at him. 

[ramblingguy54]

26, 29, 30, 36?

*cracks knuckles*Alright, let’s do this.

26: The late Robin Williams & Hayao Miyazaki are two particular people in my life I’ve idolized for what happiness/imagination they’ve brought into others lives. Robin Williams untimely passing still hurts for me to look back on because this man made it his mission to bring so much joy into other peoples lives through his acting on the big screen, whether it was dramatic or comedic. That’s what I found the most impressive about Robin’s range in acting. He could be an over the top funny individual, but Robin’s acting chops were in a league of their own. Whether he was behind the microphone having the time of his life as Genie on Aladdin or giving a powerful dramatic performance on Good Will Hunting as Will’s therapist, I could feel the unconditional kindness. There was something about Robin’s acting power that would usually manage to reel me in. Even if I never knew him in real life, obviously, this man just radiated with so much kindness that I felt from his entire presence on screen. It’s seriously unfortunate what became of Robin Williams in the end with his unexpected death, but his legacy has inspired me to be kinder to others in real life. As for Hayao Miyazaki, this guy is a huge factor in why I got into loving anime related stuff all the more, as his creations in storytelling and the art itself for the movies were beyond unlike anything I still have yet to seen be topped quite frankly. It’s so easy for me to get emotionally lost in his films like My Neighbor Totoro, Princess Mononoke, Castle In The Sky, and Spirited Away. This man never ceases to amaze me with how usually impactful and in depth his films are. They’re so full life that it’s easy to lose sight of whats happening in the actual story at times. Mayazaki understood how to breathe a ton of humanity into creating such resonating works of fiction. Have a much greater appreciation for them in my adult years. There’s a reason why they inspired companies, like Pixar, to create immersive stories of their own.

29: Favorite films range from Zootopia, Wreck It Ralph, M. Night Shyamalan’s Unbreakable, Aladdin (1992), The Secret Of NIMH, The Lion King (1994), The Incredibles, UP, Ratatouille, Wall-E, Finding Nemo, Inside Out, Kung Fu Panda 1 & 2, How To Train Your Dragon Trilogy, Toy Story 1-4, The Great Mouse Detective, Lilo & Stitch, The Emperors New Groove, A Goofy Movie, Good Will Hunting, The Fox And The Hound, The Land Before Time, The Brave Little Toaster, Frozen, Shrek 1 & 2, Coraline, Paranorman, Kubo And The Two Strings, The Muppets (2011), Princess Mononoke, Castle In The Sky, My Neighbor Totoro, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Spirited Away, Porco Rosso, Summer Wars, Beauty and the Beast (1991), Winnie The Pooh (1977 & 2011 iterations.), The Peanuts Movie, The Princess And The Frog, The Jungle Book (2016), Scooby Doo On Zombie Island, Harry Potters’ 1-7, Christopher Nolan’s Batman Trilogy, Wonder Woman, Sam Raimi’s Spiderman 1 & 2, The Black Panther, Thor & Thor Ragnorok, The Avengers, Avengers Infinity War & Endgame, Spiderman Into the Spiderverse, Captain America Trilogy, Iron Man Trilogy, Star Wars Episodes 4-8, and The Breakfast Club to stop this list from getting any longer. =P

30: Favorite TV shows range from Cowboy Bebop, Avatar The Last Airbender, Yu Yu Hakusho, Digimon Adventure 01 & Tamers, Teen Titans (2003), Batman The Animated Series, Ed, Edd,& Eddy, Samurai Jack, Courage The Cowardly Dog, The Powerpuff Girls (Screw that garbage reboot.), Chowder, Bojack Horseman, DuckTales (1987), DuckTales (2017), Gravity Falls, Code Geass (This series has shaky writing in a number of areas, but that ending was beautiful.), Amphibia, Steven Universe, Oban Star Racers, Made In Abyss, Stranger Things, Gargoyles, My Hero Academia, Naruto (I’ve got a soft spot for this series despite my MANY problems with its story later on.), Pokemon (Serious nostalgia overload!), Dragonball Z (My very first anime series I got into through the Toonami block. A real shocker I know. LOL!), Gurren Lagann, Kill la Kill, The Promised Neverland, Death Note, Chip N Dale Rescue Rangers, Sonic SatAM, Talespin, Darkwing Duck, The Grim Adventures Of Billy & Mandy, Robot Chicken, A Pup Named Scooby Doo, Kim Possible, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, and Fullmetal Alchemist (2003).

36: My three dream scenarios I’d like to fulfill? 

1: Become A Voice Actor

Been interested in voice acting since I was a young teen, but have been in a conflicted state over these recent passing years in my life on whether or not I’d like to approach that route. There’s a lot of commitment I’d have to put into auditioning my butt off for roles I may or not get. Then comes the consistent practicing to keep my vocal chords in shape, so I don’t get rusty whatsoever. The industry for this kind of job can be hard to get recognized in too by how many other notable well known VA’s there are already. Not to mention, from what I’ve researched up on being a voice actor doesn’t bring in the money naturally, as it’s more of a passion job which that’s terrific and all, but if I want to partake in this profession I’ll have to juggle a job along with that which putting all those factors in my head honestly makes me intimidated. Ahhh well, it’s just something I’ll have to wait and see on if I can make that idea into a reality or not. No need to rush myself, of course.

2: Taking Up The Mantle Of Reviewing Shows & Films For A Living

Fiction, just like for many people, has been a great deal of helping me in my life moments of stress, solitude, depression, and anger. I’d love nothing more than to further express that to anyone out there in reviewing in great detail certain films or shows that I’ve come to love over these years in my life so far. Mostly for animation though, as its been a gateway for finding many gems of quality films or series. It never ceases to surprise me on how creative and powerful animation can be with its inventive ways of getting me to become an emotional mess. While I do enjoy live action series and films they pale in comparison to the beauty animation has brought into my life, since my early childhood of watching shows on Cartoon Network, Toon Disney, and Nickelodeon to a smaller degree. I’d like to think I’m good enough with how I present my reasons on why I feel so strongly connected to these stories showcasing characters trying to find hope in their own hard times. I try my hardest to take moments of my own life and find ways to connect it with whatever story I’m getting into next, so it can be all the more a special experience for myself. It’s important to put whatever character resonates with you most in their shoes for why you feel their emotional journey connecting with your own life on every conceivable level possible. That will make it when you write these kinds of reviews a very empowering read for others to feel either heard in their own feelings or simply giving others a new perspective to consider on this piece of fiction you’re discussing. Seeing some of my own particular analytical posts in the past here on Tumblr garner some attention from people gives me a boost of feeling better about potentially making this choice.

3: Starting A Family Of My Own…?

I can’t begin to tell ya how many times I’ve gone back and forth for getting married in the distant future to become a father has sped through my mind. On one hand, it scares the crap out of me to be taking up that big of a responsibility. However, on the other hand its deeply fascinated me emotionally of creating life through love for your significant other in starting your own family tree. I’d love to be able to raise kids of my own to pass on the lessons I’ve learned in life to make them become better people in the distant future, while showering them with unconditional love and affection. That would fill me up with such an indescribable joyous feeling to hear their own dreams and desires on what they want to accomplish in life. While I’d be a strict parent, I wouldn’t be a hard headed one quick to dismiss their own complaints if they had problems with how I handled things, once they start to get older. The kind of parent I’d want to be is an understanding open minded one who doesn’t judge their son or daughter for when they have an issue with me. Just because I’m a parent in that scenario doesn’t put me on a pedestal of immunity from criticism. Granted, I certainly don’t want to be a doormat for them to try taking advantage of either, but it’s also important to not let your parental role go to your head, too.

Although, I don’t plan on even trying to make this last dream of mine happen anytime soon. This is something that is MUCH later down the road that I wish to have happen. However, I won’t lie and say that I haven’t considered just staying content as a single guy for the rest of my life relying on close friends to bring me joy equivalent to this dream. While I adore the concept of creating life through love and being a father, there’s a shit ton of responsibility that comes with it. The life of a parent is not just putting your all into it. You gotta give more than just 100% when wanting to be a parent. It’s a serious test of your spiritual endurance, which I’m not sure is something I’ll ever have the courage to do, but then again things can change in life on the flip of a dime, so I’ll see how this all plays out for myself. Maybe I’ll stay happily single or I’ll happily be raising kids.

Gee, I wonder why this dream of being a parent resurfaced in my head recently this year? Oh yeah, it was thanks to this character here.

Seriously, Della Duck holds a real special place in my heart for making me feel these kind of feelings yet again. Darn you space mom! LOL.

Thanks for the ask, man.

[greyempress-blog]

night calendar / lelouch x c.c.

Disclaimer: I wanted to start this off with my ultimate ship of the series and ship in general, Lelouch x C.C. and how it’s likely they shared a bed via C.C. hogging it all the way till the end and their progression as accomplices, to something far more intrinsic than can be put into words! I really hope you enjoy it. It’s my first Geass fic and I hope to write many more. Title: ‘Night Calendar’. Characters: Lelouch vi Britannia/Lelouch Lamperouge, C.C./C2. Summary: Lelouch and C.C. sleeping over the course of the series and the quiet moments in between. Pairing: Lelouch x C.C. 

The first nap isn’t really a nap, per say. It’s more a strange girl in his bed; kicking him onto the floor. He’d like to say he won, prideful as he is. But he didn’t. 

He wouldn’t dare share his bed with her it wasn’t appropriate and he hardly needed Nunnally to find out somehow. Particularly by the issue at hand, that annoyance. But he gradually accepts the guest room and locks her door. Triumph in small doses is triumph nonetheless.

( He tries to pretend it doesn’t infuriate him when she easily lock-picks it, with a cheshire grin and her odd sunlit eyes slanting in challenge come morning light.)

Lelouch laments his fate with a woman who could scarcely be called one, after all, that’s how they’ll always be. Nothing about the room or her nor him, if he had a say, would change. His room.

The first time he falls into bed with her he can’t quite recall, but it didn’t have significance. She distanced herself in her sleep, the way a cat curls into a snake, anything but a girl. That’s the gist of it isn’t it?

She isn’t a girl. She’s a Witch. She’s an immortal, cold, blank-faced woman with a few choice words he won’t utter that uses his money and his clothes.

Appears where she isn’t told and challenges everything about his perfectly built ideology that leaves him both seething and seeking to prove her wrong. Lelouch of course, moved as far away from her as he could, but it seemed her more than generous strands of green hair laced with his back, getting caught there.

“That hurts boy, “ She drawled then, and it stings like vinegar on his tongue. “As if a woman being shot could really claim that hurts.”

Silence, and he’s satisfied that their rapport has him winning and he hates to admit it, for once.

Until –

“You have a ways to go before you decide what hurts.” And he’s defeated again.

“Be glad, Lelouch. Our Contract is over.”

He’d been thinking she’s beyond cold but cruel, then. She has a capacity to be anything on a whimsy, as if the word suited her nature but there’s something off about her smile when she left the building the Witch used in cold separation on a single bed in his room.

There’s no remorse spouting anger at her lies on the steps;  at her hesitance to reveal the full scale of the Contract and he thinks those things, coward, heartless woman, heartless thing, Witch, Witch, WITCH – but her smile gives a brief pause. 

There’s a momentary flicker of something and it doesn’t mean anything, obviously, but he hasn’t lost to her. He’s right. He’s right and C – that Witch isn’t even human. There’s nothing consistent to tie them together. There’s no reason for him to need her other than a pawn, an item, nothing more. After all isn’t Mao the perfect example of her character?

(As if you cared when you stained your hands, traitorous, traitorous mind.)

Nothing but a manipulator toying with lives, and something in him whispers that he’s different, he’s different and yet he activates the gift she gave him and is greeted with her slowly retreating back and he curses.

“C.C.”

He doesn’t know why he says her name after that odd intermingling of hands, that strange contract where C.C. didn’t seem heartless but desperate, and he dismisses the thought, dismisses anything about such a woman because it’s fruitless and it’s not as if she’s worried he’ll become like Mao.

They enter the helicopter in relative silence; she twirls a strand of hair that always gets tangled in the bed, and has the other hand loose, empty. Something about it strikes him as lonely but he dismisses it, he always does.

He dismisses that C.C. maybe has had hands empty to hold for a long time, not just of people but of anything, and maybe the person who begged for her former partner’s life did only what she knew how to do in helplessness .

They go to his residence late, his, mind you, the lights flickering bright and Sayoko arching a brow at her bloodied apparel, but ever sworn to silence she says nothing.

There is nothing, and yet something, something in C.C. that’s significantly different; like her hesitantly growing smile that bloomed as humane as anyone else’s when he promised her he’d be different.

Like how in the bed her body subtly curls into itself for protection with her hand around a regenerated arm that had the bullets of ‘love’ imprinted on her skin.

Like how he says to her in silence her name perhaps more seriously than he ever has.

“C.C.”

Silence.

“I meant that.”

Silence reigns.

“Did you?”

Soft breaths, peaceful breaths. She’s asleep, and her mouth is almost benignly curved. A loud, intentional sigh of resignation. ‘Impossible woman’, Lelouch thinks but for once he feels no malice, perhaps he’s fated to be at her whims.

He isn’t awake to hear her, eyes wide open the entire one-sided exchange, murmur softly, voice revealing nothing but a quiet resolution that she forgot she had in the depth of her dead heart.

“I did.”

“Lelouch.”

He’s pathetic isn’t he? Prideful as he is, her oddly soft voice holds nothing but a quiet ‘something’ as Lelouch has come to call C.C.’s mannerisms. The blood won’t come off. His first love’s blood won’t come off and he sees pink and pink and pink and grief in her red-glazed eyes and ‘I’m sorry’ will never be enough. 

Lelouch will never be where Euphie is laughing freely of pain.

He’ll be in hell; he killed her after all.

“The blood won’t go away despite you washing. You know that. It’s mine, as well, for not monitoring your Geass better.”

She continues, but it feels like dull noise. Dull noise as his swollen hands are taken in hers and guided to the bed, dull noise as his head hits the pillow, eyes swollen with tears and stifled sobs as not to awaken his sibling who he can barely face. After all he killed their sister. He’s no right to tears.

“You don’t have to bear it by yourself. Didn’t we make a promise?” Her voice is softer than it ought to be, too close and her hands so white, pristine, unblemished as the snow that lay in metaphors.

When his head finds itself against her chest, her chin tucked over his own, Lelouch scoffs through a muffled noise some incoherent crack in his code of how he behaves with her, with – C.C. - . 

How she touches his hair like a child, how oddly, there’s nothing perverse about this he thinks, just something that seems different in her, or was it him?  He’s too tired. He’s too tired. He’s been tired for a long time and her voice breaks the silence, firm and quiet, strong when nothing is strong:

“I will be the one to stay beside you until the very end.”

“You said that before. You’re so strange. You comforting me, it’s..bizarre it’s..” 

He murmurs, grief-stricken and weary; tears clinging to his lashes and her chest is warm, heartbeat singing a consistent, constant thud (was it always that way?) not like how Euphie’s no longer is.

(This time she doesn’t laugh mockingly at him. There’s something disturbing in the softness of eyes he’s so used to not understanding, and he cannot look for long, no, not too long. )

“Sleep, Lelouch.” She murmurs into his hair, tears soaking into her (his) shirt, and for the first time his mind wearily registers the most bizarre thing in the world: that he was falling asleep in not his bed – but theirs; and he has no idea how to feel about that. “Sleep and let me carry the blood until you awake.”

His hands subconsciously held her arms the entire night, the warm skin of her cheek against his brow. It’s warm, not like Euphie’s blood, but like C.C.

When he returns, bitter, vengeful as ever against his Father, the damned Empire, she’s there in the bed, a bed he’s begrudgingly accepted as hers as well. How unlike him, and her smile is as cat-like as ever. A smile not expecting to slip when the lights turn off and they sleep back to back, his voice soft and quiet, wondering something he didn’t want to dwell on.

“…What happened at the Island?”

There’s an intake of breath, something he hasn’t been used to seeing from her, and the Witch, -C.C.- is silent. 

“C.C., what happened on that island when you faced Orange.” 

Did he detect an uneven breath for a millisecond?

“I died.” 

Silence, and somehow this time it hits him in a way it never had before. Her deaths always startled him but they never seemed permanent. But the way she speaks it wasn’t a quick death, nothing merciful about it, nothing that she wants to tell and Lelouch touches her tense shoulder, unaware he had taken in an inhale of his own breathing.

“…was it painful?”

Bitter, quiet chuckles are his response.

“Rather than ask me how painful it was, I deserve a thank-you and an ample supply of pizza tomorrow to celebrate my plan on your retrieval.” Evasive, he thinks, and when was it he began to understand parts of C.C.? No, not just that, when had he wanted to?

“I’m glad.” He says bluntly – enough for her to cant her head just barely from what he can see of the soft outlining of her lime green hair. 

“Glad? You, the most disrespectful man alive, glad? “ She scoffs into the pillow but there’s questioning in her tone. 

A smirk.

“Aren’t we accomplices? I’d be somewhat at a disadvantage if you weren’t orchestrating for my inevitable return, C.C.” He drawls, and her face turns to him, deadpan, quiet, the horror of her own perhaps first-of-its-kind type of death has left her eyes -- good.

“It was boring without you.” 

With that she flings her arm over his face and goes back to sleep.

When was it that he was terrified of losing this woman? Pompous, arrogant, lofty and distant, cold and warm, soft and hard. Protective as a lion yet eyes holding secrets of eras past? Who carried herself in a way that commanded no quarter, nothing but the highest respect? 

Who could match him wit for wit, ploy for ploy? Who perhaps, in all the world, no one understood him like she did? No one would protect him, no one would see him at his root because no one could get past the first brambling patch of roses.

As she plummets from that golden, unnatural sky, he thinks of her wish, her true wish, and it all makes sense. The somewhat lonely eyes at times, the more soft she became around Nunnally, himself, the human emotions slowly unveiled…the closer she became, the nearer he could touch her, the more he saw that wish. 

It was a simple wish, really, painfully boring to some – but not to C.C. Not to him, who knew her arguably more than anyone left alive and perhaps, ever, if he wanted to be arrogant. Oh, and he was.

He thinks no matter what happens he’d like to fulfill it. That wish of a girl resurfacing, longing to smile. Longing to know the taste of the word that started with ‘L’ . 

Damned if he knew anything of it, damned if he even knew if he loved her, but his chest is sick and his stomach in flops as he steadies her form – thankful not to lose her, after all, she can’t leave him, she’s C.C – outside the thought elevator.

She’s C.C. She’s C.C.

Yet as she wakes, her wide, unnaturally frightened eyes on his face, voice higher in pitch, words a static sound he cannot compute, as his heart has stopped surely, Lelouch loses a person he thinks he’d never lose.

She speaks but whoever it was that was her is already gone.

For a long time she does not sleep in their bed,  until confronting his Mother and Father only then does she return. She slides in the sheets, a leg intermingles with his to earn a squawk from him in jest; and a hand seeks his in the dark as they silently make their decision. God has died, and the world must move forward, and Lelouch has made his promises.

But as her eyes meet his, facing him, not back turned, ( not anymore ) he wonders what he will do about hers.

She isn’t used to being a literal if not faux Empress. To him she was far more one than any royal in his damned family aside from Nunnally and Euphie; and as they slumber in the large, too large bed within a world literally in the palm of his hand, he wonders how to make that promise come true. 

He’s made his peace – or so he wants to think. But his mind drifts to her. Perhaps he does love her. But to love her now would be cruel, so he tucks it away, far away, pathetic, and fingers a lock of her hair.

Her stirring eyes, C.C.’s lovely face, quite human, and almost girlish, on his own. The ultimate ploy of all, the Witch herself. A human being perhaps more human than most monsters wearing human faces, and now their time is at an end; yet here she remained, faithfully, singularly, all alone, beside him. 

All had left but her. Even now she guarded him, bore pains and woes. Even now she admonished him, no crown changed her sharp tongue, and only her soft voice and her fingers tweaking his nose has him out of a bitter reverie. 

Yes, bitter, sweet and bitter.

“Don’t.”

 She says lightly, smiling faintly, something she never did at the beginning, but at the end she offers him an assuring, oddly unselfish smile. She was sacrificing her wish for his own grand plan, wasn’t she? 

Stupid witch! Of all the times to pull this. . . !

In fact many times she’d come across as a contradiction – selfish in one breath, horribly so, but at times also unselfish and even kind. Why did it take the end of one’s life to realize such things?

How long had it taken him to stop ignoring that C.C. was the beautiful snow he claimed?

There’s a firmness to her voice as he drifts in thought again, squeezing his hand so tight it stings.

“Don’t, pity me Lelouch. Not you.”

He feels remorse and grief in his gut for the way she doesn’t even scold him, only smiles this utterly sad smile that makes his tongue ash.

She truly was unselfish at tim---

“…You’re going to fulfill my promise.”

Never mind.

Her voice doesn’t crack, and her head doesn’t leave where it suddenly was beneath his chin, his fingers idly playing with her hair. 

“If wishes truly are Geass, then I’ve been astray for centuries. I think a Witch has the right to bet on that Geass as well. “

He looks at her dryly if only to ignore the stab to his heart. What can he possibly offer the one person who stood by him and supported and knew him through everything? Who could never just be a ‘witch’ ever again? Who even as he was going to die the next morning, has a smile on her face and a place in his mind that Nunnally and Suzaku have already left, his resolution made with all but her? Even now she stubbornly needles her way into his mind when everyone else has left it.

Why, he thinks in bitter frustration, is it C.C. that he cannot let go of in his mind? Coward, he thinks in misery, that he cannot fulfill the wish to a woman he never imagined would give him so much. Who had unfolded before his eyes from a thing, to a witch, to a woman who had the softness of words they had no need to say? Not in their own little private world where no one else was privy?

“…I bet that you’ll fulfill your promise. So isn’t it alright for me to gamble as well? On the wish called ‘Geass’. Or should I wander forever? Or should I – “ 

Lelouch isn’t adept at romance, would laugh at anyone calling him anything flirtatious, but his chin rests on her head and he cuts her off quickly with an oddly dry throat: “Yes, I suppose that’d be alright.”

“So no goodbyes?” Her voice is controlled, no tears, nothing, she wasn’t really like anyone else – she was C.C. after all.

Again, a dry, pained swallow – and he wants to believe that he is not lying when he speaks, not to her, anyone but her. The one miracle he so badly wants to make come true. How idealistic, she’d say.

“I don’t have a choice, do I, you witch. So no goodbyes.”

“Lelouch?”

“C.C.?”

“You did well.”

It rings so miserable and yet stinging sweet in his chest he can barely breathe. Maybe all he’d ever wanted, was to stand at her side as an equal, that ever distant woman that time could not control, that the laws of man could not rule. Now he was, and this was the last night in their bed.

And yet she speaks, even now, without resentment?

C.C. rests against his chest free of the ‘suffocating ridiculous royal attire’ and murmurs softly, “You can make miracles happen, only you. So – I’m betting my Geass. On your miracle. Just for me.”

He doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t want to sleep. But his eyes are lidding, and C.C. is all that’s left to remain on a dying man’s mind. So he murmurs softly, in their bed, “I suppose I’ll make one for you.”

Of course I would, silly woman. After all this time…

But he falls asleep in a world he’s destroyed, wakes by a chapel to see her stoic face betraying none of her softness the night before, the ‘cold mask’ he thinks in the world hidden and always theirs, and faces his knight’s blade with the world birthing anew to his sister’s screams and riotous cheers.

As his eyes close he imagines green fields, like her hair, yes like her like --

--

C.C. after two years will sleep alone tonight.

If C.C. weeps it’s for no one to know. If C.C. is crushed is for no one to know, if C.C. loved Lelouch Lamperouge or Lelouch vi Britannia is for no one to know but her. 

She visits no corpse, hails no viewing, merely packs her bags and leaves as she requested of him. Hasty goodbyes for a none-too hasty bond.

Perhaps it was too painful, but that too, is for no one to know. Where C.C. goes is for no one to know. But she goes, nonetheless, until the sun passes over the driven cart and moonlight strides over the hay, fingering a single pink crane – betting on the wish that only one man could fulfill, one more time.

As many times as it takes, after all---

---- a promise is a promise, isn’t it?