#Brainrot is so strong and there's nothing that can kill it

[retro-memo]

We really do be trending again for no reason

[bitten-fruit]

Simon forgets how strong he is

18+ MDNI - cw: bruising - ~700 words

just some Simon Riley NSFW brainrot ♥︎ - part 2-ish, and part 3-ish here!!

Simon forgets how to be gentle.

When he's at war, fighting and shooting and killing day and night, all he knows is hardness. Brutality. Ruthlessness. His hands and heart grow calloused and rough in his months away from you. Using his unfathomable strength to survive is what he grows used to, it becomes second nature.

But it's your softness he remembers, to keep himself sane. It's all he thinks about. Dreams of.

The way the flesh of your hips, your ass, your breasts, your belly, pillows so deliciously between his fingers when he squeezes his handful - so warm, so supple. The way your vanilla-balmed lips graze his scarred skin so tenderly, however undeserved your sweetness is.

And when he finally returns home, after months of missing, craving you - when you stand in the door, honey thighs bare by virtue of the black panties you wore just to torture him, soft tummy peeking out from under your crop-top - he just can't restrain himself.

You greet him with your sugary smile, stretching up on your toes to curl your loving arms around his neck - your gentle voice, music; "Si, ah! I'm so glad you're okay…"

The moment your velvet skin touches his, his shackles crumble. Like a beast starved, he clutches you. Mammoth arms curl around you, constricting, gripping you eagerly like you might be a dream; liable to turn to a memory, to smoke.

His avaricious embrace lifts your feet from the ground, though he doesn't mean to - he burrows his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, lets the curls of your hair smother him and fill his chest with the faint scent of your fruity shampoo. Fights every urge to take a bite, like you're a ripe nectarine.

Growls into your skin, through his jaw; "I fuckin' missed you, love. Christ, you have no idea how much I missed you."

"I missed you too, baby…" you coo into his ear, even your breathing is tender - he can't take it.

So he ferries you immediately to the sitting room, scoops you up like you weigh nothing, lets you coil your buttery thighs around his waist as he sits you on his lap on the sofa.

His wide hands take their greedy handfuls of your body - of your waist, of your hips, of your thighs, of your ass. Finally indulging the impulses he had dreamed about for so long - the very image he had fucked his fist to more times than he could count while parted from you.

With his teeth on your shoulder, tongue laving your warm skin; "So fuckin' soft," he grumbles deeply, and urges, "pretty thing. So soft. Fuck, I missed you."

His cock is hasty to grow boulder-solid under his trousers, and he chastises himself - but you answer with a cloying giggle, grinding your mound against its rigidity as if to torment him.

"Mm, you did miss me," you tease, little brat.

Then in an instant, all he can think about is the softness of your syrupy pussy, the gumminess of the inside of your cunt as its walls caress and milk his cock like it was built just to fit him.

You make him fucking ravenous, so voraciously eager to have you that he doesn't even notice his hands turn to vices around your flesh - fingers burrowing so deeply into the cheek of your ass that he might break through the skin.

"Ah!" You yelp, "Ow - Simon - you're hurting me-"

Your squeak of pain is enough to immediately shatter him - so he rapidly lifts you off of him, protecting you from his impulse. Stands you on your feet so that you're no longer victim to his inability to control himself.

"Shit, I'm sorry-" he grunts under his breath, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's-" Your brows curl in worry, turning to look at where he had clawed you - and he sees the purple bruises where his hand had wrenched the flesh of your ass, the red lines where his fingernails had nearly punctured you. "Oh," you breathe at the sight, "…wow."

Drowning in visceral shame, he can barely bring himself to touch you again. But your soft hand caresses his hair, running through the sandy tresses - you, somehow, the one to comfort him.

"It's okay, baby, I know you didn't mean to," you purr fondly, and he leans forward to shamefully press as soft a kiss as he can into the bruise he gave you. Fucking monster.

"I'm sorry," he croaks into your skin, hoping his guilt will reverse his barbarity. "I just missed you."

"I know," you croon, turning to plant a loving kiss into his hair. "It's okay."

You guide him to lean back, mounting his lap again, letting your pelvis grind against the erection you were quick to reawaken.

His hands barely ghosting over your skin, he restrains himself, touches you carefully.

You whisper, into his stubbled cheek; "I'll show you how to be gentle again."

[gyuswhore]

Dahlia

🎁 Em Birthday + Dino Mixtape Special 🎁

PAIRING: lee chan x reader

SYNOPSIS: When Chan brings you a bouquet filled with promises and hope to begin your birthday, you're happy to accept them with the love they come with. Chan, however, is quick to remind you that the flowers were only the beginning.

CONTAINS: fluff, smut (MINORS DNI) bikerboyfriend!chan, fem!bodied reader, soaked chan (literally), tiny bit of crying (happy tears!!), loads of acts of service, making out, handjobs, breast play, clit stimulation, fingering (f. rec), penetration, chan wont let reader breathe kjgfnekfjn, these two are so in love it gets sappy at the end lmk if theres anything else

WORD COUNT: 4.4K

masterlist

[AN]: if yall didnt think that insane meltdown i had on the tl a while ago wasnt gonna spawn into this, you would be crudely mistaken. ANYWAY in honour of em day falling on dixtape release day i present to you this thing i wrote out of the worst brainrot ive had in a very long time. have fun with channie lol

“Thank you!” Chan yells behind him to the flower shop owner as he walks out, the small tinkle of the door chime making itself known despite the near midnight time. Chan checks his watch as he approaches his motorcycle that stands on the empty sidewalk: 11:38 PM.

He might be able to make it, swinging his leg over the seat as he thanks his luck that he was able to catch the last florist before she closed for the day. The owner sends him a smile as she begins her own trek to her car, lights out. 

Revving his engine to life, he attempts to tuck the bouquet into his riding jacket, praying the delicate petals would hold up during the short ride to your place. His helmet is strapped on within seconds as he kicks up his stand to take off into the empty streets, making a beeline for your apartment. He stops at a red light, taking the chance to check his watch again: 11:47 PM. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, whipping his head around to check the ghostly empty streets of the intersection. He briefly wonders if he can afford a ticket when he sees the droplets fall on his gloved hands. 

“No. No, no, no, come on!” The light turned green as the rain began to thunder down onto his helmet, seeping through the collar of his jacket and trickling down his skin. He pushes away a shudder, trying not to shiver in the now even colder November night, wanting nothing more than to get to your place as quickly as possible. 

The rain grows nothing but stronger as he finds himself needing to wipe his shield every few seconds, his desperation increasing with the strong winds. By the time he’s kicking his stand and yanking his helmet off, the pour seems to have slowed itself to a drizzle, something he thinks he would’ve appreciated just a few minutes ago. In the few seconds it took him to kill the engine and inspect his flowers, the slow droplets infiltrated his hair, too. 

The flowers are soaked, Chan finds out soon enough as he inspects the droplets that have collected on the short petals of the red dahlias he’s picked out. He dumps the bouquet upside down to pour out the accumulated water onto the pavement, watching the amount of liquid that continues to spill out. 

So much for the flowers holding up. 

“I think you need some flowers for your water,” Chan flicks his sopping wet hair off his forehead to look up at the sound of your voice, eyes meeting your delighted face over your low window. 

He glances back down at the water-specked flowers, and hears a ghost of a chuckle escape him. Chan realizes in the moment how frazzled he looks, dripping wet with a thing of dejected flowers in his grip. 

You’re still smiling at the sight, “Come up before the hypothermia sets in, idiot.” 

He’s quick to oblige, bounding inside despite the droplets he leaves in his wake, checking his watch in a glance: 11:58 PM. You’re quick to open the door for him just as he reaches your place on the first floor, folds upon folds of bath towels in your arms. 

“You look like a wet dog,” you snort, laying down a towel for him to step inside on. 

“Wait!” he yells, and you freeze in your crouched spot. You’re slow to come back up, watching him stare intently at his watch. 

11:59 PM… 12:00 AM.

His face breaks out into a big smile, causing you to mimic his elated expression. He grabs your limp hand and thrusts the bouquet into your hands. 

“Happy birthday, babe.”

You can’t help but huff out a little laugh. The sight of dripping hair, sodden socks on a towel, his hand that pushes the flowers into your own, all complete with a stupidly accomplished look on his face. 

You push forward, flowers in hand, as you wrap your arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Pushing your chest into his, you leave no room between what your clothing would allow. It’s wet. Really wet. You can feel your shirt grow warm under the retention, but you pay no mind as you continue clinging to him with all you have. 

“Thank you, Chan.” He can hear the elation in your voice, and it’s enough to make it all worth it. He hugs you back, cautious at first, but relents when he realizes you don’t care about coming out of the hug as soaked as him. It isn’t until you feel the unnatural cold of the tip of his nose kiss your neck that you realize he’s probably freezing. So you pull away, albeit reluctantly. 

He keeps his hands on your hips as you continue, “Let’s get you dried up first.” 

Thus, a freshly washed and clothed Chan exits the bathroom, finding you in the kitchen huddled over the island. It isn’t until he’s engulfed you completely from behind, arms coming to pull you into his bare chest, that he sees what you’re doing. The crimson flowers had been tended to, placed into a pretty vase as you fiddle with the petals to spread them into a pleasing arrangement. 

“It’s freezing, Chan, put a shirt on!” you gasp as you turn around to realize your boyfriend is sporting nothing but trousers and a towel around his neck. 

“In a minute,” he mumbles as he drops his forehead to your shoulder. 

Running your fingers through his wet hair, you attempt to comb them out. “Why didn’t you stop when it started raining? You catch colds so easily.”

“I was running late, and the flower shop fucked my order. It was my fault. Spent ages trying to find one open that had these ones.” 

“You still could’ve stopped.”

“And miss being the first to say happy birthday? Fat chance.” 

You sigh as you give in to him. “Thank you. For testing your immune system for me.”

He snorts at the comment, coming back up to face you, forearms resting on the counter as he pushes your body against the edge. He glances at the flowers briefly.

“This wasn’t the end of it. We still have another twenty-four hours to go,” he murmurs. “The rest of the surprises will be less chaotic, I promise.” 

“It’s not you if there’s no chaos,” you comment with an undertone. “I’ll like anything you give me, no matter how chaotic or calmly you deliver it.”

He hums for a moment, and you sense the mischief coming from a mile away. The half-serious warning leaves you before you can help it, “Don’t make me eat my words.”

He barks out a laugh at that, coming in to capture your frown in a momentary kiss, giving you one peck after another. You stand in each other’s arms for a long while, barefoot in the kitchen, as you talk about your plans for when the sun eventually comes up. Most of which Chan refused to relay to you anyway, so you were really just making guesses. 

His drying hair doesn’t leave your fingers throughout, combing through the strands as you massage his scalp along the way. He melts under the touch, moving the towel around his shoulder way so you can rest your arms on him. He falters slightly at the feeling as he continues to talk. 

You can’t help but notice the wonders the kitchen light seems to be doing for him, the blue-ish glaze illuminating the highs of his face and hair, the glowing lines moving past his neck to his shoulders, and undoubtedly casting the rest of the ridges of his body aglow — you aren’t sure if you can handle finding out if you gaze any lower. The little you can see of his eyes past the flop of hair that covers them is sparkling in the low light. 

Chan doesn’t stop you as you slot your mouth against his, taking the way the light illuminated his lips as a sign. He’s equally as quick to reciprocate, moving his mouth against yours, almost more eager than you. His hands have left their place on the counter and move to grip your hips instead, pushing your lower half against him with a force that has you breaking away from his lips. 

He doesn’t stop, moving his mouth down to leave his own open-mouthed kisses on your jaw as you grip his bare bicep, a content sigh leaving your lips. 

“Have a really pretty thing waiting for you when you wake up,” he whispers delicately in your ear, placing a kiss on your earlobe. “The nice satin thing you’ve been eyeing for a while.” 

Your breath stops short in your chest, the thought of the pretty piece of lingerie you briefly mentioned you liked a while ago. 

“Chan,” you groan at the thought. 

He continues to mumble with a slight chuckle, “Don’t know if that’s a present for me or you.”

His hands have migrated everywhere at this point, moving up to squeeze of your breasts in his hold, his other hand continuing to run over your ass and hips. It’s your own hands that drift past his abs to toy with the drawstrings of his pants when you begin to fall impatient, needing to feel him. 

Feeling his hard-on through his underwear is easy, and you wonder how long he’s actually been horny with how defined you can already feel him to be. You watch as he grinds into your palm, groaning into your neck at the feeling. You continue your ministrations through his boxers till you feel him wrap his hand around your forearm to yank it out of his pants. 

“I’m not fucking you on the kitchen counter,” he says, pulling you out of the blue fluorescent lights and into the hall to your bedroom. 

It’s easier for him to discard your clothing with the space he’s given, yanking your shirt off to leave you in your barely-there sleeping shorts. Sparing no second, you watch him push off the soft plush of the mattress, moving away to get rid of his own clothing. 

Chan’s lips meet yours once again as he hovers over you on the bed, continuing to feel up your sides as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, massaging it over your own as he continues to push you up the bed. 

You arch your back, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, only to find him beating you to it as he unhooks it, flinging the padding somewhere amongst the flown clothes on the floor. The cold hits your chest in a way that has you gasping, his hands immediately cupping over both your breasts before attaching his mouth to a nipple. His other hand toys with your other nipple, rolling the perked bud between his fingers before running his thumb over it repeatedly. It’s so easy to zero in on the feeling of his tongue gliding over the sensitive area, the contrast of his warm mouth, and the air that hits the glistening surface of your skin. You can’t help but hum, hands grazing over his own that pinch and press into your other nipple. 

You realize soon enough that his knees are spread just wide enough for you to shove your own leg in between, bringing your knee up to grind it slowly against his crotch, feeling him through his underwear. The motion comes unprovoked, a vibrating groan escaping him as he cursed against your skin. 

“Fuck, babe, you’re so impatient.”

Removing his mouth from your chest, he pushes your knee down in haste to give himself room to pull down your shorts, pushing your thighs apart when he’s done as he kneels back. His gaze wanders across your near-bare body, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip as he locks you in place. His eyes hover but choose to remain on the visibly darkened patch on your panties. You feel his fingers move slowly, ghosting over the insides of your thighs, moving ever so close to where you screamed for him. 

Right as you’re about to say something out of growing frustration, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of the final obstruction, pulling them down your legs to expose yourself to him completely. His unprovoked compliance comes as a bit of a shock to you, but you assume he’s being nice for the sake of your birthday (not that you’re complaining – anything that gets him in your pants faster counts as an automatic win in your book) 

You can feel him massage the skin of your thighs as he stares, making sure you keep your legs wide open for him. His gaze doesn’t wander, you find, locked in as he bites his bottom lip at the sight. His eyes hold a dangerous lace, one that you wish he’d unleash. He all but pushes your thighs even further to get a better look at your undoubtedly sopping wet cunt. It took a lot for you to not attempt to bring your knees together despite the embarrassment – you know he liked to look. 

“Chan.” His name leaves your lips in a desperate attempt to get him to do something, anything. His lips all but lift into a curl of trouble.

“What is it, baby?” 

“Please,”

“Please, what? I know it’s your birthday, princess, but I won’t know what you want if you won’t tell me.” His eyes graze over your contorted expression, urging you to say it. “Say it, my love.”

“Chan,” you whine. “Touch me. Please.” 

His grin morphs into something downright diabolical as he taps your hips. “Get up, baby. On my lap.” 

Chan pushes his back on the headboard as he invites you on his lap, your hips over his thighs as the rest of your body lays on the sheets. 

It isn’t until then that he finally migrates his hand, placing his middle finger on your clit, spreading your lips apart with his pointer and ring finger. He grazes over it lightly as he moves down to your hole, feeling the pool of arousal that’s accumulated in the area. He gathers your arousal on his fingers, moving back up to pay attention to your clit. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Chan’s voice comes out hoarse, and it somehow has you gushing even further. 

The angle gives him perfect access to work on your cunt as he likes, pushing your legs apart when you’d close them subconsciously. His fingers are merciless as they take turns circling over your nub before rubbing through them up and down. He places open mouthed kisses on your thigh, the one he holds open against his bare chest. 

You’re writhing at the feeling, trying your best to not move in his hold too much as you let out the most desperate streams of moans, only encouraging him to keep going. Your hands grope everything in your shaken state: your breasts, his thigh, his arm that holds your legs apart – anything to keep you tied to the feeling. 

Chan’s fingers slow before coming to a complete halt, wet fingers trailing up your thighs, leaving a trail of your arousal in their wake. He brings them back, fingers now lower as he traces a lone finger at your entrance. You feel yourself clench at the feeling. 

“Fuck!” You clamp your hand over your mouth, the profanity leaving your mouth before you can stop it. Chan pushes that finger into your tight hole, clenching around the digit. He pumps in once before pushing in another. 

“Uh-uh,” you hear him tut. Yanking your hand away from your mouth, leading it away. “Let me hear you.” 

His statement has you letting out another groan, the sound of his voice adding to the pleasure you’re receiving at the mercy of his fingers. He continues to pump in and out, his other hand moving to continue circling over your clit. 

Your back is arching off the sheets at this point, hands desperately gripping the sheets as you throw your head back. The feeling is building to a breaking point, your pants growing louder as your jaw falls slack. 

The knot breaks, and it has you fluttering your eyes shut, your mind going completely blank as the only thing that consumed your being becomes Chan’s godly hands. Registering absolutely nothing is easy when he refuses to stop his fingers, letting you ride out your high as far as it would take you. He doesn’t stop, even while you're squirming in his hold from overstimulation.

“Ch-Chan, I can’t!” Your own hands attempt to grasp his arm, his wrists. 

Your now blown out pupils catch a playful look on his face as he quit brushing his fingers on your spent cunt, letting you lay back for a breath. Your chest heaves as you attempt to come round from the feeling, vaguely registering Chan, setting your lower half off of his lap. He hovered above your frame, leaving pecks all over your face, neck, and chest, waiting for you to recover. 

“Good?” he asks you with a smile once your breathing seemed to have evened out. 

“Yeah,” you reply with a laugh, attempting to sit up from your position to kiss him. He lets you. 

It isn’t until you’ve pushed him back on the headboard that he realizes what you’re trying to do. You’re legs that straddle him begin to wiggle lower as you detach from his lips, fiddling with the waistband of his boxers to pull them off. He obliges, letting you take the fabric off, watching you as you pump his hard length in your palms. 

You doubt you’d ever get over the feeling of having him in your hands, the weight of him fitting into your palm like his dick was meant to fall straight into your hands. Chan is gracious in how he lets you have your way for a few minutes, using his precum as lube to begin pumping him faster and faster.

The feeling is overwhelming, considering how long his lower half has been waiting for this, for you. He reminds himself what he’s really here for and somehow finds it within himself to stop you, flipping you over on the mattress so he’s back to hovering over you. 

“Not today, baby.” 

“Chan, let me–” 

He knows the only way to get you to quit insisting is by occupying your mouth, so that’s exactly what he does as he places his mouth against yours, kneading both your tits under his hands to get you all worked up again. It works as you let out the smallest whine against his mouth, all of that fighting drowning in your chest as you melt into putty in his hands yet again. 

Chan continues to tease, bringing his tip to your entrance, circling it before dragging it up to your clit, spreading the mix of both of your arousal all over your cunt. Your hips buck and stutter at the feeling, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. 

It isn’t long before he’s dragging himself back, tip pushing in hard as he continues his pressure. You’re both moaning at this point, mixing in profanities as he begins to thrust into your cunt, setting a pace for himself. You wrap your arms around his neck as he holds himself in a hover above you. 

Soon enough, you feel him begin to brush against a particular spot inside you, one that has you moaning louder than you have all night. It’s almost like he knows what those sounds mean, angling his hips in a way that thrusts directly into that one spot that has you seeing stars.

“Chan, I’m—” 

“I know, princess, I know,” he grunts out in response. “Let go, baby.” 

And you do, hurtling into your second orgasm as you clutch the forearm he’s rested on the bed. Your back that arches off the sheets is met with his hand that runs over the expanse, coaxing the feeling out with the intimate touch. 

You feel him pull out, moving away from you to let you breathe. You want to have the energy to tell him to come close to you again, but it sires difficult when you can barely breathe. You find yourself not needing to open your mouth, though, as you realize Chan’s mercy lasted barely a few seconds before you feel him push into your entrance again with no warning. 

The gasp that leaves you is muffled by the mouth that’s put on yours as Chan fully engulfs you in his arms again. You take the opportunity to touch him, wrapping your arms around his torso, hands roaming as you feel up the expanse of his back and shoulders. He’s thrusting into you slower than before, his moans coming in directly into your ear now. The sound is enough to have you gushing around him again, your fingers finding his nape to tangle them in his hair.

“Fuck — you’re not keeping me in,” he groans, and you suddenly realize why he was going so slow. 

It wasn’t like you could help it when you continued to clench around him like your life depended on it, but he didn’t seem to really mind it either when you felt his own cock twitch. Once he’s had quite enough, he pulls back momentarily to push your legs up against your body. Your thighs are pressing against your chest as you register that he’s basically folded you in half, giving him the room he so desired to properly fuck you. 

“Keep those legs up for me, baby,” he orders as he helps, letting you rest them against his shoulders.

He slips himself out before going back in entirely, moving his hips at a pace that has you seeing stars. You feel him move his head to kiss the inside of your thighs, dragging his tongue over every surface he can reach. With his mouth occupied, the only sounds that encase the room are your own string of moans, paired with the absolutely lewd squelch that comes with every slap of Chan’s hips. 

With the force he’s going at, you don’t doubt the bruises that’ll grace your lower half once he’s done. The fact that this wasn’t gonna be the end of it has you wondering how you’ll handle the next 24 hours with him. You decide you’ll think about that later as you let the feeling of him engulf you now. 

“Oh, I’m so close,” he announces, and you can tell by the way his pace grows increasingly sloppier. He lets down one of your legs to free up his hand to bring back to your bruised clit, rubbing haphazard circles to make up for his also haphazard hip pace. 

You can’t imagine minding, though, especially not right now when the desperation of it all has you building up your third high, “Me too, fuck, me too.” 

Chan thrusts into you a couple more times before you announce that you're cumming, and the way you're clenching down on him harder than ever before has him letting out the loudest moan of the night as he begins to cum mere seconds after you. You can feel his hot liquid shoot into your walls, the slickness making your head spin even further. 

You’re near passing out when Chan pulls out of you, flopping down on the bed next to you. Neither of you speak as you catch your breath for the nth time that night, somehow finding it within yourself to turn over to land your head on Chan’s outstretched arm. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you in as you curl up under his arm, head on his shoulder. 

“Where do you get all that energy from?” you mumble into his arm. 

He laughs a little at the question, dropping a kiss on your head, “Comes naturally when you have such a pretty thing to please.” 

You snort in response, trying to hide the very apparent fluttering in your chest. Even after the amount of time you’ve spent having him all for yourself, you doubt the butterflies would ever leave – especially when he continues to drop his corny yet effective lines at any given opportunity. 

“Shut up.”

“I don’t think you want me to,” he retorts, lolling his head to look at you, hair flopping on his forehead as he smiles at the sight of you. 

“Fair enough.” 

You both giggle a little, a little dazed at the cloud in the room. It falls into comfortable silence after, as you continue to gain your bearings after a session like that. Your mind begins to wander, thoughts landing you in the kitchen where the red flowers are now decorated. 

“I know you’re a sap, which is why I’m asking you this,” you start, shifting to look at him. His face is glistening. “But what made you choose those flowers in specific?” 

He thinks for a moment.

“The dahlia itself means… lasting grace. Beauty that remains, love to be declared.” 

You stare at him as he licks his lips, “Red dahlias, those mean perseverance. Strength, power.”

He shifts so he isn’t on his back anymore, facing you entirely. “I don’t know much about flower talk, but I hoped both of those things together would tell you that… my love for you is stronger than the years. And I intend to prove it to you if you’ll let me.”

You’re tearing up now, and he can see it in the way your eyes turn from shiny to an overwhelming pool. Before he can say anything, you’re lurching forward to kiss him, smashing your mouths together in a way that you can only call dramatic, your tears dropping to hit his cheeks. 

He brings a hand up to steady you, cupping your face to hold you there as you continue to peck his lips over and over. 

“Thank you for loving me,” you mumble against his lips in a nasally voice. 

“Thank you for loving me. Thank you,” he kisses you again, “for being born.”

You laugh a little, wet cheeks and sniffles to complete the look. 

Chan can only wipe your tears away with a brush of his hand and hope that those tears remain happy, with him, for the rest of your days. 

[iaure]

I love your yandere godwyn hc I just want to share some brainrot that I have so after godwyn death he become prince of death right but it's not the end of it he's love, obsession and devotion for reader was so strong even after his supposed death , the corpse tremendously taint the root of erdtree almost reaching all the land in between. This tainting can be seen among the death and living creature shown by the deathroot and the face of the prince of death in their body once it's visible enough his subconscious started to control all this being like a zombie hunting, searching hungrily , desperately but for who? It's his darling of course Tldr : godwyn was too much of a simple for reader even in death his still find a way to be together with you Also can you imagines godwyn using the death crab and basilisk to give reader some shiny peble or beautiful flower or controlling the skeleton undead to protect reader if one of them is destroyed he'll just use another undead to protect you the firstborn beloved

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ahh! the dedication!

this in fact reminded me i did not speak on what would happen of his darling, and after godwyn's death, and this offers me quite the opportunity.

godwyn using the undead to find his love once more is a beautiful idea. imagine...

simply wandering the wilds. the Lands Between have fallen so viciously, and nothing is safe. there is a strange hunter after you, D, for reasons you can't quite understand. where are the demigods that loved you so dear? where is godwyn? that golden sun? he was one of the few demigods that was not so twisted, so cruel. where is he? did he not swear to protect you, the last thing that was good and kind in the Lands Between, not torn by politics and divine loyalties?

but he was gone.

instead, you find strange hints. Creatures that go scuttling after you. Strange little crabs that would ordinarily bat around foolish Tarnished, but instead trail behind every step you make, with a half-familiar face upon their backs. when the strange hunter finds you, undead rip themselves from the earth and pry at his armour until he's overwhelmed. then, they regard you so gently. one reaches for your hair, to tuck it behind your ear. the other checks your arm for injury.

you are beloved by death, and it's not for some time that you find out why.

fia finds you. she revels in you. you may not be guided by grace, but she drags you to the Roundtable Hold, practically worshipping you. you, death's lover, what she so desperately has been trying to find. though she'd be honoured to bear Godwyn's Death-Mending rune, she knows he'd be so much gladder to have his beloved bear it. so she explains, the murder, the taint Ranni left.

and so, it becomes up to you. godwyn swears the rune will not kill you, not like it would any lesser Tarnished. you would be his lover as the Mist consumes, until the stars themselves burn out. what a lovely choice to make.

[thegnomelord]

feral Mage reader that sees the ropes under Price's clothing and can't help but stare at it all day, but being the cocky bastard he is, he refuses to admit how turned on it makes him when confronted by price

Price Does Shibari

CW: NSFW but no sex, shibari and rope bondage, teasing, military inaccuracies. Shitty and quick but god the brainrots are killing me. Price's chest is like this, ass like this

As a mage, you are many things, chief amongst them — Arrogant. Price is everything you aren't: calm, tactical, humble, and most of all patient. He knows just how impulsive you are and makes it a 'fun' game of riling you up and seeing how long you can go before your arrogance breaks and you're on your knees begging for him.

On the nights you spend in his room you usually wake up first, but this time when you roll over to get a final snuggle with him you find his side of the bed empty. Rolling back over you look around and your blurry eyes settle on his back. God every part of him is your favorite but his back does things to you, the strong muscle shifting beneath his skin with every motion of his arms, the way you can follow the trail of sparse dark brown hair from his shoulders and down his spine to his thick arse and thighs.

But as your vision clears you notice something else; Rope

It's the same color your eyes were before your magic gave them an unnatural glow. The ropes start at mid thigh, tied firm to make his thighs even more plush and squeezable, going up his legs to meet more rope like a garter belt. Knots are tied from his balls up his perineum to crisscross just below his tailbone, going above and along the crease where his arse meets his thighs. It hides his hole but you can't complain when the knots spread and push his cheeks out, giving them better definition that has your hands twitching for a squeeze.

"Did I die and go to heaven?" You can't help but say, shamelessly and obviously groping your cock over the bedsheets.

"Peter would never let you past the gates." He snorts and turns to you, his attention fixed on wrapping the ropes. But he smirks when you feels your eyes take him in.

The ropes wrapping along the crease of his hips come up to wrap and crisscross near his dick, making it stand out. Your eyes trail up, following the intricately tied knots up his torso, the rope bright and vibrant against the backdrop of his dark body hair. You almost swallow your tongue when your eyes arrive at his chest. The ropes tied in more knots create tight triangles around each pec until they're pushes out and perky, creating a diamond shape just bellow the start of his sternum and disappearing over his shoulders.

"Wha'd I do to deserve this?" You ask as you drink him in. You would never have the patience to do something like that, but good god does he look good in this.

"Nothing." He smirks, arms flexing so the rope strains against his muscles and pushes his chest out even more.

Your danger senses should have been triggered there and then, but then he was bending over to grab his pants off the floor and the ropes were spreading his asscheeks wide and you could just about catch a glimpse of his hole beneath the knots and your brain was leaking into your cock.

"You didn't do anything." He continues, and a disheartened noise escapes you when he hides his perfect arse in his pants that are just loose enough to hide the ropes when he stands still or doesn't bend too much. "Doin' this for me sweetheart."

"Liar." You accuse, pushing away the sheets so you can properly grope your cock — a half hearted attempt to tempt him into returning to bed. "You're not seriously going to-"

"Don't forget you have recruit duty today soldier." He cuts you off, a downright evil look in his eyes when he puts on a tight shirt and then a standard issue jacket. "Stop wastin' time with your cock in your hand and get up already."

You barely manage a response before he's going out the door, pausing only to bend over at the last second to tie his shoes and make your eyes go to his arse when the pants strain to contain it.

The day is complete hell for you and Price joins you for the majority of it. You don't take it out on the recruits. You definitely don't target any recruit that eyes Price's chest a second too long(even when you do the same), especially when Price crosses his arms and pushes his chest out and you can just imagine those ropes leaving red lines across his skin and perking his pecs up. You certainly don't throw a ball of magic at the recruit who stumbles face first into Price's chest while doing ash magic training.

It's made even worse for you when you're called for a general meeting for battle strategy and you're standing behind him. Even when you try your eyes still go down to his arse when he bends over the table to point at something and his arse fills out his pants and that has your cock filling with blood faster than anything.

"Mage, are you listening?" Price barks and throws a look over his shoulder, bringing everyone's eyes to you.

"Yeah," You grunt, trying not to draw attention to your predicament. "I'm paying attention."

"Paying real close attention." Gaz snickers next to Soap, their amusement intensifying when you glare at them.

Price continues as if nothing's wrong, going over battle tactics and terrain as if he's not wearing ropes instead of underwear under his pants, as if his chest doesn't push out more than usual when he crosses his arms, as if he can't feel your burning gaze at his back. When the meeting ends you stick around while the others leave, letting your eyes firmly fix on his backside.

"You're awfully distracted today sweetheart." He smirks, turns to rest his hip against the table and cross his arms.

"I'm attentive enough." You argue, trying to appear dismissive. Sometimes your pride is a real killer.

"Mhmm." He hums, "And your lil'lad is definitely not tenting your pants." Price is mean, knows exactly when you try to deflect and is quick to point it out.

"You're imagining." Huffing you wave him off, shifting from one leg to the other to put the pressure of your pants off your poor cock. Your cock's been half-hard for at least half a day, your body begging to feel him— to pull him by the ropes on his chest and kiss him till you're both breathless —even when you stubbornly hold on.

"I'm imagining. Is that so?" He tilts his head, a smug little smirk on his lips. "Well, then you'll be happy to know you're doing graveyard shift with me."

Fuck. A full night of just doing paperwork with him, knowing what lied beneath his clothes, sounded like hell and made heaven sing in your blood. "Lovely."

"Yeah, ah' thought so." Price smirks, turns and bends over the table to grab some documents. You swallow hard when his ass pushes out against his pants, you can just about see a bit of rope peek beneath the material. "Get back to work." He says with a smirk as he stands up, walking away with a seductive and hypnotic sway of his hips.

You're not at your breaking point just yet...

But you're close.

[m1d-45]

Literally a lurker on your blog since ur early days but too shy to slide into ur ask box, hiii!!! I keep seeing cryo anon and teddy anon's brainrots and asks,,,, and like, regarding post impostor AU hehe

imagine after the hunt when your fave character/vessel begs you for forgiveness the most, practically turning their voice hoarse from their pleas to share just a bit of your mercy....

(you never showed your face to them, even when they were your most favored. how selfish of them, wanting more than they could ever deserve. but they can't help it. if you wanted them to die a thousand times over to repent, they would. just please, look at them again.)

post imposter au always tickles an itch in my brain I've never known existed. angry creator? boiling hot rage creator for their acolytes killing them when they've shown nothing but love and kindness for this world?? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP LORD

I wanna see guilt. And I mean GUILT. it's probably cause I'm petty asf and if I would be killed over and over and over again only for them to realize I'm not the fake I would literally lock myself up in whatever tower they built for me and never talk again. Creator's trust? Shattered, irreparable. Followers? Wallowing in the despair.

Thank u and goodbye heh. If it's not too much, can I be called Marcotte anon? Hehe fontaine reference hhhh,, anyways have a good day ily and ur fics <3

post-hunt can be incredibly good, entirely agree

the love you felt for the world is so strong already, and it only grows as you finally get to teyvat. being here, feeling the elemental energy, feeling the world greet you as you return after your rest.. what hate is more powerful than a love turned rotten?

you hid behind your veil, uncertain if you’re protecting yourself or them. it hurts to see their eyes tearing up as they plead, but what else are you to do? your hands shake when they draw close, and you can’t erase your own memory.

(you’d know. you asked nahida about it, but she’d only shaken her head. all she could do was clear the memories of teyvat, but not yours. it hurt, but was probably for the best.)

(despite it being a failure, that day was the calmest you’d felt in weeks. she was easy to talk to, and made lovely tea. perhaps you should visit again, if only to take a break from… everything.)

your solitude is comfortable, most of the time. a few of the hunters are a bit too comfortable with their sin, and are the ones tasked with bringing you food and other necessities. it’s not much better, though, since you can still see the guilt sinking in their eyes.

it’s a lose-lose all around. you want to see them, you want to see the world, but every leaf and branch is stained with the memories of the past, what used to be your favorite retreat now something else to hide from.

part of you is angry. furious at how easily they were tricked. it’s hard to stay mad at those you love, though, so you end up sitting in your window and watching the wind blow safely behind glass. your tea is from inazuma, this time, the faint edge of bitterness keeping you from sinking too far into much of anything.

leaves dance in the breeze. you won’t be seen again until they’ve long turned brown.

[pan-withnoplan]

So apparently one popular theory/hc elriels want from an elriel book is a secret marriage...

...and let me tell you seeing that immediately after the quote "elain shall wed for love and beauty" killed me. That's the singular saddest fucking thing I can imagine for elain and azriel. You can do whatever the fuck you want in a fanfiction but to say that you want that from an actual acotar book? You want them to get married without their family beside them? You want them to treat their supposed love like they should keep hidden? They're not feysand who needed to keep the marriage quiet, and for what, even? I'm once again asking elriels to understand that elain and azriel have nothing "forbidden" going on and one word from elain would get lucien out of the picture with little to no protest from anyone.

What they want is for elain and azriel to get together and married without elain even rejecting lucien first, thus making herself the bad guy in the picture because no matter how much they scream that she doesn't owe him anything, the truth is that the one thing nobody can deny she owes him is to look him in the eyes and tell him to his face that she's choosing another. Anything else wouldn't be an elain that I want to read. She's sure as hell not a coward that strings along men for no reason at all when she knows (because I don't fucking believe for a moment elain archeron is stupid or lacking the means and will to gather info on mating bonds and how to break them if she wants) she could simply tap out any moment.

Why do they want their wedding to be something to be hidden, like they have to be ashamed? Neither elain nor azriel deserve that. How I wish they'd get the "forbidden" "clandestine" brainrot out of their head. There is no elriel "clandestine" scenario that can happen without elain treating lucien wrongly and unfairly. If they want elain to get the third batboy the least they could do is have her pull up her big girl pants and make the ultimate life-ruining decision to unequivocally reject lucien. I think all elain lovers can agree that she's strong enough to do that. But some elain "stans" are not strong enough to realize that if she hasn't done it there must be a deeper reasons other than "she's not interested".

[hydine]

ZoSan AU bc brainrot be taking over 🫠

About male dancer Sanji and immortal being of the underworld Zoro. Male dancers were frowned upon by society, but Sanji's dancing was so beautiful that Zoro entered the mortal realm to see him dance again and again. They eventually became lovers. Alas, Sanji was killed by evil people, and Zoro fell into a deep melancholy that lasted ages. He begged for his existence to end, to be made mortal and die, just so he can be with Sanji again, wherever his soul might have went. When not even his fellows of the underworld could help him, he went to the sun god with his desperate plea. The sun god informed him, that Sanji was already reincarnated, he'd just have to find him again. But he also warned Zoro that this Sanji had no memories of his past life and his love for Zoro. If they were meant to be, though, Sanji's soul would recognize him. And should they fall in love again, the sun god assured Zoro that they'd be together forever. And so, Zoro went on a mission.

Might add additional ideas at a later point 🫠

EDIT: Additional ideas under the cut 🫠

"Old" Sanji had a strong female side. He was accepted as a woman by other females, and expressed no romantic interest in his female companions. He had no shame living out his female side, even if it was frowned upon by most of society. He took great pride in protecting those dear to him. He was born to a mother who fled her tyrannical husband (and family) and went to live with other females who suffered the same fate. Those females made a living by using their wide variety of skills, be it sewing, cooking, or - dancing. Sanji liked dancing so much when he grew up, he took up the profession himself. Society didn't like how this group lived; didn't like the fact that those females could live by just themselves, with no male support. Sanji didn't even count, because he acted like a woman himself. Men were supposed to go to war, to fight, to work hard jobs - not... dance. In female dresses, no less. Also, there were rumors that he had a male lover - preposterous! Society back then had very antiquated views. Somehow, an ex-husband of one of the ladies caught wind of this group, gathered other hateful people, including Sanji's biological father, and together they razed the camp, leaving no one alive.

(more space for edits 👀)

Zoro was born a human, a descendant of ancestors of noble blood who had to flee their country and went on to live as commoners. Zoro's parents died when he was still a child, and akin to despair, darkness befell his vulnerable young heart. The master of a dojo for swordsmanship took pity on Zoro, and took him in, trying to keep the darkness in his heart at bay. Zoro took up training swordsmanship under the dojo's master. He quickly became one of the best students, alongside the dojo master's own daughter. It was a friendly rivalry. The darkness in Zoro's heart never went away, but it also didn't grow. That changed the day the dojo master's daughter, who became Zoro's best friend, died in an accident. The darkness in Zoro's heart grew to a point where he couldn't control it anymore, so much so that it distorted his appearance and his mind. Zoro's heart became a vortex of darkness, which unintentionally summoned Mihawk, one of the lords of the underworld. He offered to take Zoro with him, train him to master the darkness, but he would have to give up his mortal life. Zoro was quick to agree, as there was nothing left for him in the mortal world anymore.

When Zoro gained control over his darkness and could revert back to his human appearance, Perona - a fellow being of the underworld - teased him about going back to where he came from. Of course, as per Mihawk's conditions, he wasn't able to permanently return to the mortal world, yet he still took the opportunity to visit the mortal realm from time to time, as he developed a fondness for alcohol. It was in search of the latter, when one night he first laid eyes on Sanji. The majority of the patrons of the bar, where Sanji was dancing, had their jaws on the floor. Whether they were shocked or in awe of Sanji's beauty, Zoro did not know. For Zoro it was definitely the latter, as he had never seen anything - anyone - more beautiful. Sanji caught him looking and approached him after his dance. Zoro was flustered, which Sanji found charming. They had instantly connected, somehow. When Zoro had to leave, Sanji asked him if he would come back another time. Zoro said he'd make no promises. But of course he eventually came back for him. And again. And again. Zoro couldn't get enough of Sanji. And Sanji never failed to meet with Zoro after his performance. They became lovers. They promised to never leave each other. And they weren't afraid to show their devotion. Others frowned upon them, but neither Sanji nor Zoro cared. It was them against all odds.

It was a night where Sanji didn't perform, and Zoro did not come to see him, when Sanji's camp was raided. Zoro nearly went berserk when he found out what happened, and lost control over his darkness again. And again it was Mihawk that reined him in, before he would take revenge on Sanji's killers. Zoro fell into a deep melancholy when the rage left him. He lost count of the years he spent wasting away, drowning his sorrow in oceans of alcohol. He had begged Mihawk on his knees to put him out of his misery. But Mihawk claimed he could not do so, as he could not reverse the immortality he created when he took Zoro under his wing.

Perona scolded Zoro, saying that a death wish for a mere mortal is stupid, but when she felt Zoro's dark energy spark up for a second at the mention of "mere mortal", she knew he was serious. She suggested that he go to the heavenly realm, one of the many gods there would surely be able to help him. But Perona also warned him, as beings of the underworld are usually forbidden to go there. Of course, Zoro went there anyway. He found the heavens to be a mostly unguarded but rather lively place. He used his human appearance nonetheless, so as to not stick out too much. He still felt the suspecting looks, heard the whispers about him, but no one did anything. He was briefly wondering if Perona lied to him he was actually allowed to be here. Suddenly a bright light and the sound of distant laughter caught his attention, and his instincts told him to follow it.

Before he knew it, Zoro found himself standing in front of the sun god, who intentionally summoned the intruder to him. Zoro wouldn't admit it, of course, but the sun god insisted it was his doing. The sun god also claimed to not have had him attacked on sight, as he felt there was something he wanted to say, a request maybe. Zoro was taken aback by how nonchalant the sun god behaved. Hells, he even picked his nose once! His behavior was strangely endearing. Zoro told him of his sorrows, told him of Sanji, told him of their promise to never leave each other. And that he needed relief from this pain. Maybe he could find Sanji's soul, when he was dead. The sun god laughed at the dramatic speech. He told Zoro that he already knew Sanji, that he even wanted to grant him divinity, but Sanji declined, and chose to be reborn instead. The sun god told Zoro that Sanji was already out there in the mortal realm, living a relatively normal life as the sous chef of a restaurant. But that was all the sun god was able to tell him, as he'd have to look for him himself. Zoro wanted to go immediately, but the sun god warned him, that the Sanji he knew and the Sanji who was reborn were not the same. The "new" Sanji might appear as Zoro's Sanji, and ironically even have the same name, but there were no physical memories of Zoro. Only his soul would be able to remember him, which it would eventually, if the love between was deep enough.

.

.

For some LuLaw on the side: so we all know who the sun god is 👀 and he's rumored to have a lover: the god of death. The god of death was once a mortal himself, going by the name Law, and he was supposed to die from a terminal disease. But Law's father figure Corazon sacrificed his own life to one of the gods, so Law could live on. Law then spent his days defying the gods by killing manic zealots. This caught the eye of the sun god, who then came to the mortal realm to know more about Law. When the sun god came to know about Law's past, he confronted the god who took Corazon's life, and a battle shook the heavens. The sun god nearly lost the fight, if it weren't for Law's unwavering belief in the sun god. The evil god noticed their connection (red string of fate? 👀) and mortally wounded Law. The sun god then wrathfully defeated the evil god. The sun god then realized he loved Law, and because of his strong feelings, Law was revived as a god himself.

[mama-qwerty]

There's Something About Scarlett

Okay, so, if you've missed it, I watched a little video series called There's Something About Knuckles on Youtube. (Content warning for language and body mutations and such, if you're sensitive to that kind of thing.)

Anyway, Scarlett, if you've missed that, is an oc of mine that acts as the stand in for when I really want to give Knuckles a bestie who can interact with him differently than the canon characters. For this piece, we'll pretend Scarlett was involved with the tragedy that happened in the series.

Okay, everyone up to speed? This series gave me kaiju brainrot for a while, and this fic popped into my head fairly complete.

I tried to summarize the series so you didn't need to see it to follow what was going on (I hope), but I recommend watching it anyway, because it's so good.

~~~~~

The manx cat roamed the wasteland of her dead world.

Ears tuned to any sound around her, she kept her eyes straight ahead. On the horizon. Always on the horizon. There was nothing much to see to her sides, anyway. Withered trees. Brown grass. Bones of those not lucky enough to have learned how to survive now that the world had gone to hell.

Although there were some days she wondered if they actually had been the lucky ones. Days when she wondered if she herself had been plunged into hell. Sent to roam a dry, twisted landscape, for no other reason than she didn’t have the sense to simply lie down and let it consume her, too.

And there were days when she wondered if she should just let it.

But still. In the end, she kept walking.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Years ago, when she was a little girl, it had been green and beautiful. The skies had been blue, the water clean. There had been one tree outside her window she loved to climb. She would spend many a day in the upper branches, watching the clouds pass above her.

She could barely remember that now. It seemed a dream.

Dust flared around her boots as she walked. There was nothing green now. Barely anything grew from the poisoned soil that seemed to spread farther with each passing day. And what did manage to grow was twisted and jagged—once beautiful flowers and plants turned sharp and unnatural.

She moved to stay ahead of it. To find food. To find any life left on this rotting world.

And she moved to kill any monsters she came across.

The metal gauntlet that covered her right arm swung heavily against her, and she thumbed the various controls at her fingertips inside it. The end was a three fingered ‘hand’, tethered to the rest by a long, hidden chain. Various mechanisms inside could send it out with force, to grab or deliver a strong punch to her target.

It was the only piece of Tails’ mech she’d kept. Its mechanisms were simple enough for her to repair herself, and left her free to maneuver quickly. When she’d first hefted it, she was clumsy, her aim off. Now it was practically a part of her.

It had to be. She never would have survived this long without it.

The faded bag that held her few meager possessions bumped against her hip. She traveled light, carrying only what came in useful. A hunting knife, sharpened to a razor’s edge. A journal in which she wrote of every monster she’d slain, every destroyed and decaying town or village or city she’d come across. A water bottle with a built-in filter to remove most of the toxic elements in what little water was left. Some first aid supplies, including healing ointment and a few rolls of bandages—dirty from multiple uses, but better than nothing. A map, old and tattered, hopelessly outdated now but useful in a different way. A compass.

And one more thing. The only non-essential thing she’d kept from her life before it all collapsed.

It was wrapped in the leftover bits of a colorful scarf she’d had since childhood. The cloth had been cut to pieces over the years, used for first aid or to mark safe places. Hardly any was left, just a square a few inches along each side. The item inside wasn’t useful for anything, just a bit of wood about as large as her fist. But she couldn’t bear to leave it behind.

It was the only thing left of her best friend.

She pushed that thought away. Couldn’t afford the luxury of falling into memories, painful or otherwise. The sun sank lower in the sky, stretching the shadows longer along the ground.

The world became much more dangerous at night.

Her ears flicked constantly, twisting and following any sounds surrounding her. The world in general was quieter now, with no birdsong or animal calls. As twilight moved in, no fireflies flickered to life. No crickets chirruped to greet the coming evening. The only sound that fell on her ears was her own footsteps. A rhythmic dull thud on the dry dirt.

She kept walking.

The sun set completely, and the stars above blinked into life. Some nights, she would crane her head back, looking up at the stars to pretend everything was still alive. That the world was whole. That her friends were still with her.

That he was still with her.

For the millionth time she cursed the baron for bringing such a blight to the world. For destroying everything good.

No one was sure where he’d come from. This odd looking creature whose sole focus was to conquer. He’d sent his metal machines out first. Loud, smelly things that attacked their city and destroyed everything they touched.

She and her friends had all banded together to stop him. She, Knuckles, Tails, Amy, Big, Cream, and Blaze, led, of course, by Sonic. To push the baron’s machines back, and keep him from taking one of the last cities left outside his rule. It was hard—the machines seemed to become stronger with each attack—but they’d managed.

But then the baron had sent a new foe. One of flesh and blood. A kaiju, a demon. One hellbent on taking the city down. Those battles were harder. Much harder. It had taken more to keep it at bay.

Tails had done well to arm them. Building mechs to turn away each attack. But every night the kaiju returned, bigger and stronger than before. Each battle was harder won than the last.

And then Sonic had gone off to face the baron alone. To try and end this once and for all.

It hadn’t gone well.

A sound to her right and she stopped, eyes dilating in the dim light as her ears flicked to hone in on the disturbance. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she took slow breaths to try and calm it so she could hear properly.

She stood stock still for a long few moments, eyes and ears flicking around her. Her fingers caressed the controls in her gauntlet. They’d been worn smooth from use.

The sound again. A kind of scrape, followed by a huff. Behind her, to the left. She spun, and raised the gauntlet just in time to block the sharp teeth of a smallish kaiju from tearing off her face. She threw the thing away from her, assuming a defensive stance as it reared back and roared.

It was hard to tell what it used to be. A squirrel maybe. Or a rabbit. The body was stretched and mutated, twisted beyond any sense of recognition, standing just a few inches taller than her. The front hands (paws?) curled into long, sharp claws. Serrated spines poked through the thing’s back, and its face was dominated by more teeth than what should have been possible in its gaping maw.

And where its eyes should have been, like most other ruined creatures, was a bright glow. One that fed and grew the hate and rage within these formerly innocent creatures. Turned them into monsters that only wanted to kill.

It made for her again, and she sidestepped to keep it off balance. She punched it as it passed her, connecting solidly with the thing’s chest, and hearing the snap of cracking ribs. It roared in pain, and staggered slightly as it took a few steps back.

She watched as the dent she’d made in its chest popped back out, issuing more cracks as the ribs healed.

It mutated slightly, spurred by the rage she’d brought out. Now it was taller, spikier, and much angrier than before.

Shit.

Taking a more offensive route, she sprinted forward, drawing the gauntlet back in what appeared to be another blow. The creature followed suit, running straight for her, raising its own claw for a deadly strike.

Just before they clashed, the cat shifted, going into a slide as if coming into home in a baseball game. Her momentum carried her beneath the kaiju, and she slammed her gauntlet against its left leg as she passed, shattering the thing’s calf and drawing out another screech.

But being in such close proximity left her open. It was a gamble, and she knew it.

The thing pivoted, its talons scratching gouges in the hard soil, while it brought a hand down to rake its claws across her right shoulder. She cried out, rolling and scrambling to put some distance between them. Pain flared down her arm, and her hand went numb inside her gauntlet.

Shit

She forced herself to her feet, her free hand going to the wound on her shoulder. The creature stumbled and staggered around to face her, its shattered leg mending itself already, a few new spikes pushing through where it healed.

ShitshitshitshitSHIT

She was just pissing it off at this point. This needed to end. Now.

Flicking the locking mechanism near her elbow, she unlatched the gauntlet from her right arm and shook it loose. Keeping her eyes on the thing across from her, she quickly shoved her left hand in, maneuvering it to access the controls inside as best she could. It was made to work on the right hand only. This was going to make things even harder.

The beast seemed to sense her vulnerability, and made a dash toward her. It roared in anger, its claws spread and ready to tear her to ribbons. As it neared she spun, bringing the gauntlet up to crash against its face, sending it sprawling to her left.

She didn’t give it a chance to regain its feet. Raising the gauntlet, she awkwardly hit the button to send the claw shooting forward on a long chain. It latched onto the creature’s face, and she lifted her arm, bringing it down with a sharp slashing motion. The momentum traveled along the chain, moving like a wave to whip the beast face first against the ground.

It fell with a bone jarring thud, and she heard the crunch when its jaw shattered.

The scream it released made the fur on the back of her neck stand on end, but she moved forward before it had a chance to right itself. Placing her heavy boot on the back of its neck, she retracted her claw hand, before plunging it into the thing’s eye socket. A quick yank and she removed the small glowing crystal that was embedded there.

The creature screamed again, and writhed beneath her foot. But without that shard, it was vulnerable. It could not heal, or mutate. It was mortal again. A quick shift of her foot snapped its neck, and it went still with one last little screech.

One threat dealt with.

The shard vibrated within her metal fist.

It sought a new host.

Moving quickly, she ran to find a softer patch of ground. A dead scrub of bush sat not far off, and she hurried there. Pulling her arm back, she punched the ground as she simultaneously hit the launch button, sending the closed claw deep into the dirt. The flick of a little switch and the fist opened, releasing the shard as she withdrew the claw. A hurried shoveling of soil with the claw turned impromptu shovel, and the crystal was safely buried.

Well. ‘Safe’ was a relative term. Something else could dig it up. Some other burrowing creature could find it and fall victim to its corruption.

But that was the future’s problem. She had a more pressing one right now, in the form of the three long slashes in her shoulder, and the fact that her entire arm had gone numb. If the thing’s claws had damaged anything important, she’d be in real trouble.

She spared one last look at the downed monster. It was still dead. Good. She was lucky it only had one small shard. The bigger the shard, the more powerful the kaiju.

Holding a hand on her bleeding shoulder, she turned to seek out some sort of shelter for the night.

~X~X~X~

After another twenty minutes of walking, she came upon a small grove of trees, and in the middle sat the corpse of the largest. It spanned five feet across easily, and she craned her neck back to see up into the higher branches. This big fella must have only died recently, because the top branches were still covered in leaves, brown as they may have been.

Perfect.

Using the gauntlet as a grappling hook, she launched it above her and latched onto a branch to haul herself up. It took some creative maneuvering to find a sturdy platform, but a few minutes later and she was nestled on a thick branch, her back against the trunk.

Tucking the gauntlet into the crook of a few branches above her, she began work to tend her injuries. Thankfully the gashes didn’t seem too deep, and she cleaned and bandaged them as well as she could. Her arm was starting to feel tingly, and she could move her fingers again, so it seemed she’d dodged the bullet on that, too.

Pulling the journal out of her bag, she scribbled a quick description of the creature she’d encountered. It had been one of the smaller ones she’d taken out, but had dealt her more damage than most others. She was getting sloppy.

She was getting tired.

Switching to the map, she approximated where she’d buried the crystal, and marked it with a little X.

There were a lot of little Xs.

How many more would there be? How many more until she made one wrong step, one wrong move, and she’d become nothing more than another tragic victim of the abominations roaming the world?

She sat still for a long while, staring at nothing in particular.

This wasn’t the way the world should be.

But it was.

And it was all the baron’s fault.

Tails had told them what happened. He’d followed Sonic when the hedgehog went on his own to try and stop the baron’s monster. He’d learned the truth.

Even though it shouldn’t have been possible, the baron had managed to find and crack a chaos emerald. Open it, somehow. It had unleashed all that energy, causing the baron himself to mutate and change into the kaiju that had been attacking the city. And Sonic, with his big heart, had offered to help the baron stop this painful change, to save him from the hell he’d put himself through.

But Sonic had been tricked.

Instead of saving the baron, eliminating the kaiju threat, it simply transferred the curse to Sonic. And so the hedgehog hero who’d been leading the charge to keep the city safe was how its newest danger. It’s biggest threat.

Knuckles had stepped up to lead the rest of them against this new kaiju. At the time they’d had no idea it was Sonic. Tails knew. But he didn’t say anything until it was nearly too late.

Until it was too late.

She blinked. Put away the map. Tucked the journal into her bag. Her hand bumped against the little wooden item wrapped in the last bit of her scarf, and she pulled it out, carefully unwrapping it.

It was a carving. A little totem, with rough cut features. A pointed snout. Long dread-like quills. A little crooked tail. Big round fists.

“Here,” Knuckles had said when he all but tossed it to her. “For luck.”

“Oh good,” she’d replied, giving him a smirk and some snark to match. “I needed a mini-Knux to bitch at me when I screw up.” She’d held it up, and deepened her voice to imitate his. “Nice shot, dipshit. I’m already carrying the world on my shoulders, do I gotta carry you, too?”

He’d laughed at that, making her smile. In truth, she’d been touched when he’d given it to her. Before the attacks started, Knuckles had been more creative. Carving little toys and things for the kids in the city. Helping with the gardens and farms. He’d been happier. More content.

But after Sonic had gone, when Knuckles had assumed control of the team, he’d developed headaches and a self-doubt she’d never seen from him before. She tried her best to keep him from spiraling too far into his own insecurities, but sometimes it was hard. He held himself responsible for each attack, and every death he couldn’t prevent.

“It’s all on my shoulders, Scar,” he’d said once, as they watched the city clean up after yet another attack. “Now that Blue’s gone . . . it’s all me. And I don’t know if I can do it.”

She’d never heard him so . . . so scared before. And it honestly scared her.

“It’s not all you, Knux. You got us. We’re here to help. You just have to lean on us a bit.”

He shook his head, before tilting it toward the large Sonic statue on the balcony of their meeting room. He often sat before it, telling it his fears. His doubts. “He didn’t.”

“Yeah,” she said, moving to block his view of the statue. “And look where that got him.”

At the time they’d thought Sonic was dead. But even when they learned he wasn’t, even when it was much, much worse than death, the point still stood.

She moved closer, pressing her forehead against his. “We’re here, Knux. I’m here. Stop trying to carry this all on your own. Lean on me. I’ve got you.”

He let out a long sigh, leaning a little more against her. “Sometimes . . . sometimes there’s a little voice in my head that tells me I’m not strong enough. That I’ll just get you all killed. And I’m . . . I’m scared it’s right.”

“Well, don’t listen to that voice, it doesn’t know what it’s talking about,” she said firmly. “Listen to my voice. You are strong enough, you are brave enough, and you are trying your very hardest to keep everyone safe. You’re just too damn stubborn to admit you need help sometimes.” She pulled back and flicked his nose. “So stop being a dick and just admit it.”

He snorted out a laugh. “You’re such a pain in my ass sometimes.”

She smiled. “Only sometimes? I’ll have to up my game.”

They shared a laugh at that, two life-long friends, trading barbs.

And two days later he was gone.

Now Scarlett stared at the little totem in her hand. Ran a thumb across its little muzzle. Followed the lines of the quills. He’d even carved his little white crescent moon mark onto the chest.

It was him. And it was all she had left.

Throat tightening and eyes burning, she brought the little wooden echidna to her forehead, and pressed it against her. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears that stubbornly broke free anyway.

She could still hear his screams.

After Tails had confessed that the kaiju they’d been fighting was Sonic, Knuckles had taken off to try and free the hedgehog from the grasp of the broken chaos emerald. There were two large chunks of crystal in the kaiju’s eyes, and Tails theorized that if they were removed, they could save their friend.

So Knuckles had gone to face the monster in its lair. And the rest of them had followed.

It had been a massacre.

The kaiju had grown too powerful. They hit it with everything they had, and managed to remove one shard from its eyes. But it fought with a ferocity none of them had seen before. It killed Big. Shook off every attack. Knuckles went down. All seemed lost.

Amy had tried to get through to Sonic inside, and it seemed to work for a moment. But Knuckles had . . .

She squeezed her eyes tighter.

(“The only way! He dies, then I die! PROMISE ME!”)

Knuckles had sacrificed himself by using the removed shard to change himself into a kaiju powerful enough to take Sonic down. And he had. Just ripped the remaining shard straight out of the other kaiju’s face.

Sonic had been freed, but was a shell of his former self. Blind and battered. Weak. Dying.

The rest of them had unloaded everything into Knuckles. Into the killer kaiju he’d become. He was gravely injured from his battle with Sonic, and it seemed to work.

But it didn’t.

Tails. Amy. Sonic. All killed by the newly revived kaiju that was once Knuckles.

It held both the shards now. And the anger that had built inside Knuckles, the fear and the self-loathing and the doubt, all fueled it into a great rage that spelled the end of their world as they knew it.

The world burned.

Scarlett, Blaze, and Cream had managed to avoid the monster’s fury, and hid among some rocks until it passed. The ground shook with each footfall, and the beast roared in rage as it stalked toward the city.

The city that Knuckles had tried so very hard to protect, fell beneath his fists.

The three of them heard the screams from where they stood. Blaze tucked Cream against her chest, trying to shield the girl from the horror.

The screams didn’t last long.

The beast gave one last triumphant roar before heading west, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.

The three had eventually made their way back to the city, back to the carnage left behind. The stench of death hung thick in the air. There was nothing left. No one left.

They picked through the rubble, finding what would be useful. Blaze took Cream to the east, searching for others to gather together for safety. They wanted Scarlett to join them. There was nothing left here, if they headed toward the mountains, they could hide and survive.

She’d refused.

She headed west. Following the kaiju.

Following Knuckles.

But that’s what she’d always done, isn’t it? Follow this echidna who’d been her best friend since they could walk. The cat and the echidna. Thick as thieves, partners in crime, yin and yang. As close as siblings and twice as stubborn. Able to go from screaming at each other to working like a well oiled machine toward a common goal in a heartbeat.

She’d never known life without him. And having him gone felt like a piece of herself was missing, too.

She wasn’t exactly sure why she was continuing to follow now. When he wasn’t him anymore.

Maybe it was because Amy had started getting through to Sonic, and she hoped she could do the same with Knuckles.

Maybe she hoped she could do something to put him out of his misery.

And maybe . . .

Maybe she was looking for him to put her out of hers.

She’d followed his trail for a while—it honestly wasn’t that hard—but then it just kind of . . . disappeared. As though he’d just vanished into thin air.

But she’d found other things.

Whatever the baron had done to open his chaos emerald had seemed to affect all the chaos emeralds scattered about the world. As near as she could tell, they all shattered, sending shards essentially leaking chaos energy out in all directions. Some were underground, thereby twisting and poisoning the ground and everything around them, but some were found by living beings. And when that happened, it changed their host into creatures only seen in nightmares.

The world ended five years ago.

Scarlett had been there.

And she’d been wandering ever since.

Searching.

And finding nothing but pain, despair, and death.

Tears ran silently down her cheeks, and she let out a shaky sigh as she leaned back against the tree. She hadn’t spoken since that day. Not that there was anyone to speak to. The only people she’d seen since leaving the ruined city were ones driven mad by the horrors they’d seen.

She held her little totem to her chest, eyes cast up through the dead leaves above her. The stars still looked the same. She envied them. No matter what happened down here, they remained. Fixed features in the night sky. Twinkling down on a slowly decaying world.

Her eyes grew heavy, and she hung her bag off a little stump of a branch to her left.

And as she did every night when she began to nod off, she wondered where Knuckles was. And wished she could have stopped him from using that damn shard all those years ago.

~X~X~X~

Oh God did her shoulder hurt.

Scarlett woke as morning light leaked into the world. Her head thumped in rhythm with her heartbeat, and her shoulder provided an accompanying throb. A soft grunt grumbled from her throat, and she stretched her back as well as she could while perched on the branch.

She reached up and scratched behind her ear when a thought occurred to her, making her eyes go wide.

Her hand was empty.

She froze, bringing both her hands into view, as though she needed to verify this sudden reality. Her right shoulder protested, sending a sharp stab of pain down her arm, but she ignored it.

Both her hands were empty.

No. Oh no no no no.

Turning toward her bag, she felt through the worn canvas for the hard shape of the little wooden totem.

Nothing.

NO!

She’d dropped it. Must have. Twisting sharply, and bringing another jolt from her hurt shoulder, she looked down below and could barely make out the little dark brown shape at the base of the tree.

Without thinking, she leapt off the branch, landing with a hard thud on the ground. Her shoulder screamed, bringing a deep grunt of pain from her, but she pushed it aside to almost lunge for the little totem.

Scooping it up, she squeezed it in her fist, bringing it to her chest and near her racing heart.

That was close. This little wooden echidna was the only thing keeping her sane now. If she’d lost it, she would have lost herself.

She’d been lucky.

A deep chested grunt behind her.

She froze, eyes wide.

Oh.

Oh shit.

She hadn’t checked around her before jumping down from the tree. Hadn’t made sure there weren’t any shard controlled creatures nearby.

Oh shit.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Scarlett turned toward the sound. Standing not ten feet away was a large . . . something, that had the very obvious signs of shard possession. Grotesque mutations, elongated features, spikes and scales and horns jutting through torn skin. A long tail, the tip split. A solid, square jaw, sporting sharp teeth. Sloping brow, with two long horns reaching backward and flat against the head. Long spiky growths framing the skull, each ending in a sharp point.

She had no idea what this thing used to be, back before the chaos emerald shard had gotten to it.

But what it used to be didn’t interest her. What it was, and the fact that it had caught her unawares, defenseless, and injured, did.

Swallowing hard, she shifted her stance, turning to face it fully. Heart racing, hand clutching tight around the wooden echidna, she weighed her options.

Option one – scramble back up the tree and try to retrieve her gauntlet, or the knife in her bag.

No good. Her right arm was all but useless to her right now, and she doubted she’d get more than a few feet up the trunk before this thing grabbed her to pull back down. It was easily twice her size, and looked strong.

Option two – run.

That one had potential. But there was a good chance it would catch her easily before she got more than a few yards away.

Option three – fight it hand-to-hand.

She nearly laughed out loud at that one. Even if she wasn’t injured, and even if she had her gauntlet, taking down something this big was a long shot. She hadn’t eaten for the better part of two days, and even now she shook with fear, weakness from her injury, and starvation.

So what did that leave?

As she stood there staring at it, it occurred to her that it hadn’t made a move toward her. It wasn’t growling. It wasn’t snarling. It wasn’t displaying any anger at all. That was strange.

It also wasn’t looking at her. Its eyes were closed. That was problematic, as in most cases the emerald shards migrated to the eye sockets when they possessed a creature. There were a few times when that hadn’t been the case, but those were few and far between.

When another moment passed with the creature not making a move, Scarlett decided to try option two. If she moved fast enough, maybe she could put enough distance between them to figure out her next move.

Moving slowly, she took a step to her right, her eyes still glued to the beast. It tilted its head, but didn’t move otherwise. Another step, and it still hadn’t made to come for her.

Okay. This was promising.

She took another step when a loud screech filled the air, making both her and the creature jerk in surprise. Whipping her head up, she found a large bird kaiju descending toward them, its wings stretched absurdly wide, beak full of teeth. On both heads.

Well.

Fuck.

Opting to pay more attention to the kaiju currently streaking toward her with the intent to kill, Scarlett turned and sprinted back into the little forested grove, moving deeper in. The idea was to block any attacks from above, forcing the bird monstrosity to land and try to move through the trees. It may get stuck—it was pretty big and the trees grew together fairly tightly.

She hunkered down between a few trees, listening and watching the bird pull back to hover over the grove. It screeched its annoyance at losing its prey, and Scarlett had a moment to give thanks for that.

And then the head on the right opened its beak and blew out a line of flame that set the trees alight.

Well, this morning was just getting better and better, wasn’t it?

Scarlett ran to her left, heading for the section of trees not currently on fire, when the bird switched tactics. It landed with a ground-shaking thud, and used its massive wings to fan the flames, spreading them faster and surrounding her as burning branches fell from above.

The other kaiju stood where she’d left it. The bird didn’t seem to pay it any attention.

Shockingly, she didn’t waste much time wondering about that.

Right now her options were to either be burned alive, or make a dash for the other end of the trees and hope the bird didn’t notice her missing until she was far enough away to formulate a plan.

She opted for the second.

The little wooden totem still held tightly in her fist, she brought her left arm up to cover her nose and mouth with her elbow as she made her way to the other side of the trees. As she passed the large tree she’d slept in, the wind from the bird’s wings must have jostled her bag and gauntlet loose, and they fell to the ground at the base.

Finally a bit of luck.

She snatched them up as she ran past, staunchly ignoring the pain in her injured shoulder, and shoved her right hand into the gauntlet. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she burst from the burning trees, and turned in time to see the bird take flight and head straight for her.

This close, she fully registered how huge the thing was. And there seemed to be two emerald pieces in its eyes, one in each head, that absolutely blinded her with the light they gave off.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh God.

This was bad.

With no other options, Scarlett lifted the gauntlet and sent the claw into the open beak of the left head. She latched onto the thing’s tongue, and gave a solid yank when it squawked in surprise. The tongue came free, raining bits of gore and blood down on her as the claw retracted, but it was enough to put the bird off kilter and send it in a crash landing to the ground.

The right head let out a rage-filled screech, and Scarlett flattened her ears to protect herself from going deaf. Its neighboring head shook and coughed out some blood as a new tongue mutated into existence, along with a new trick of it extending out like a long tentacle. It wrapped around her right arm and gave a yank, pulling Scarlett of her feet and dragging her toward the other head’s snapping mouth.

Nononononoshitshitshitshit

Scrambling in a panic, Scarlett managed to roll her body to dig her heels in the dirt, pulling back with all her strength to try and remove the thing’s tongue from her arm. It didn’t work. She was drawn closer, the wind from the right head’s snapping beak blowing across her face.

She held tighter to the wooden totem in her fist.

One chance.

As the distance closed, and the beak eagerly reached for her, she pulled her arm back and threw the little echidna straight down the gullet of the right head. It pulled back with a “GRK”, hacking and coughing in an attempt to dislodge the object from its throat.

The left head roared in anger, and whipped Scarlett around, tossing her like a rag doll into the grove. She collided with one of the trees on the edge, letting out a loud cry as pain flared in her side when her ribs cracked. The edges of her vision blackened, and she bit her tongue hard to try and keep from passing out.

After a moment, the right head seemed to have cleared its airway, and the giant monstrosity turned to her, both heads pegging her with a dark, murderous look.

She had no strength left to fight. Her shoulder wound had reopened—she could feel the blood leaking down her arm. It hurt to breathe.

Scarlett let out a soft exhale, before painfully moving herself into a sitting position, resting against the trunk. The fire hadn’t reached this part of the trees, yet. A few flicks of the latches and her gauntlet fell free from her arm, landing with a dull clang on the ground next to her.

She watched the bird stalk toward her, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Time to stop running,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

They snapped open a second later when the bird screeched in pain. The other kaiju, the one she had honestly kind of forgot about—what with all the fighting for her life thing happening—had moved forward and thrown itself at the larger creature. It punched and pounded on the bird, ripping great handfuls of feathers and guts out with each blow.

The larger kaiju writhed in its grasp, trying to get beak or talon on it to render a retaliatory strike. The smaller creature wouldn’t let it. It snapped the thing’s wings, and when the left head tried its tongue tentacle trick, the first kaiju tore it out.

The two rolled and fought for a long moment, with the bird getting not a single hit onto the smaller monster.

Finally, the first kaiju wrapped its large fists around each of the bird’s necks, and pulled. With a mighty roar, it ripped the bird in half.

Scarlett stared, eyes wide.

The bird parts twitched, the emerald pieces trying to repair the damage. The smaller kaiju dropped the limp necks, before plunging both hands into the eye sockets—one in each head—and removing the emerald pieces from each half. The bird thing twitched and jerked for a moment, before lying still, its blood soaking into the ground.

The remaining kaiju stood still for a moment, breathing hard. Then it jerked, as if waking from a doze, and walked to its left. With another roar, it plunged both hands into the ground, shoving them down until its chest came flat to the soil. A soft grunt, and then it withdrew its arms, filling the holes in as best it could.

Scarlett stared.

That . . .

Did it . . .

What??

Seemingly satisfied with what it had done, the thing now turned to her.

She swallowed.

It moved toward her, dirt caked into the blood still on its hands from the bird kaiju.

“Please,” she croaked, her voice not used to speaking. “Please.”

She wasn’t sure if she was begging for mercy, or a quick death.

It hunkered down to all fours and crawled toward her, lifting its snout as it sniffed the air. This close she could see that its face was scarred, especially around the eyes.

“Please,” she repeated, a desperate whine leaking into her voice. Tears slipped down her muzzle.

She was so tired.

Tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of being alone.

The thing stopped before her, kissing distance away. It sniffed again.

Her body trembled, and she turned her head to the side, hoping it would make it a quick, clean kill.

It leaned forward, pressing its nose against her neck. She gave a little whimper at the touch, but didn’t try to push it away. Another sniff. A sound rumbled in its chest, a kind of growly whine.

“Sscarrr . . .”

She froze.

“Wh-what . . .”

The thing made a little “grumph” sound, before tucking its snout under her chin.

It was nuzzling her.

“Scarrr . . .”

Its voice was rough, scratchy. As though speaking through a damaged voice box. Like one that had been used to roar and growl and give voice to anger and rage for a long time.

She held her breath.

It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

“. . . Knuckles?”

A little whimper answered her, and the kaiju let itself flop down on top of her, tucking its face into her neck. Its arms wrapped around her middle, stilling for a moment when she flinched due to her broken ribs.

“Found . . . you . . .” it—he said, voice softer. “Finally.”

For a moment, Scarlett sat stunned. Frozen. This couldn’t be real, could it? Was she dreaming? Unconscious? Dead? This couldn’t be Knuckles. He’d been gone for years. Taken by the corrupted chaos emerald. Changed. And then . . . she didn’t know. Just gone.

“Is it really you?” she whispered, not daring to hope. Not moving to touch him any more than she was. “Knux?”

A sound like a chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Me.” A pause. “Dipshit.”

She blinked.

And then she laughed.

It hurt, and she hissed in pain, but then she laughed some more.

“You’re still a dick!” she said, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight, her injuries be damned. “But you’re back! You’re here! Oh my God, you’re here. You’re here.”

Her words tapered off into tears, and she held him tight as she sobbed into his shoulder, years of stress and worry and sorrow draining from her in an instant. It didn’t matter what he looked like, she didn’t give a shit about that. He was here. He was him. That’s all she cared about.

“What happened? Where did you go?”

A silent moment. “Somewhere else. Dunno. Just pain. Anger.” Another pause. “Monster.”

“No,” she said immediately, trying to lift his head to look him in the face. He reluctantly moved, bringing them nearly nose-to-nose. “That was those goddamn shards. They changed you. They . . .” Her eyes flicked to where his should be. To where the shards had been the last time she saw him. “What happened to them?”

“Gone.” He sounded angry. Bitter. “They . . . pulled ‘em out.”

“They?”

He shook his head. “Amy. Tails. Different. Horrible. Made me hurt people. Couldn’t . . . couldn’t stop . . .”

He shook in her arms, and she pulled him back to her, hugging tight.

“Shhh . . .” she soothed, running a hand down his back, feeling the different pieces the shards had made for him. When Sonic had been freed from his shards, he’d returned to mostly his true form, but still retained some markings of the kaiju—horns and spikes. He’d only been under the influence of the emerald shards for a few weeks.

But Knuckles had been under their control for years. It stood to reason that his transformation was more extreme.

“Came back. Looking for you. Hoping . . . hoping you were still alive.”

Hoping I didn’t kill you, she imagined he was also thinking, but not strong enough to say.

“Almost wasn’t,” she said, and gave him a gentle poke in the side. “You could have helped with the bird thing, you know.”

Another coarse chuckle. “Saved your ass, didn’t I?”

“Eventually.”

Silence settled over them for a moment, as they listened to the soft crackle of the fire in the trees behind them. Scarlett broke the quiet, her voice soft.

“I’ve been looking for you. I didn’t . . .” She swallowed. “I guess I didn’t want to admit to myself you were gone.”

He didn’t respond for a moment. “I was. For a long time. Wasn’t myself. They used me and when they didn’t need me anymore, they yanked the shards outta my head and dumped me back here.”

“Do you remember anything?”

A pause. “Bits and pieces.” His hands clenched tighter on her shirt. “I . . . I killed them, didn’t I? The others. Our friends.”

She didn’t want to answer. “Last I heard, Blaze and Cream headed out east, to the mountains.”

“Scar.”

“It wasn’t you. It was those shards. The kaiju it turned you into.”

“Tell me, damnit.”

She pulled her lips tight. “Yes. They’re gone. After you absorbed that second shard, you . . . the kaiju destroyed everything.”

He shuddered in her arms, and she held him tighter. What was there to say? The generic placation of ‘it’s okay’ seemed insensitive to the innocent lives lost to his kaiju form. His attacks had been the catalyst that brought about the end of the world. So much destruction. So many lives lost.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing about this was okay.

But she loved him and knew that he would never have hurt anyone if he could have helped it.

“What’s done is done. If you hadn’t stopped Sonic, he would have been the one to cause all this. Same tune, different lyrics.”

He didn’t respond.

She pat his back, leaning forward slightly to press her forehead on his.

“Hey, c’mon. It’s getting a little hot here, and my ribs and shoulder are really screaming at me. I’m gonna need a hand to find someplace to get patched up.”

Knuckles took a few deep breaths, pushing forward a bit against her. He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I gotcha.”

He moved back, before coming around to her side to gently, oh so gently, scoop her into his arms. She sucked in a quick breath when the movement jostled her ribs, but he held her carefully, cradling her against his chest.

Gathering her gauntlet and bag in his other hand, he stepped away from the trees, away from the corpse of the bird kaiju. She looked back at the bird, at the head she’d tossed her little totem into to save her life. Her heart clenched knowing she’d never see it again. She supposed she could have gone back to cut it out of the thing, but . . .

She looked up at the creature holding her so gently. So tenderly.

. . . but it just didn’t seem that important anymore.

“Still carrying me, I guess,” she said softly, a little snicker in her voice. He chuckled, his broad chest rumbling against her.

“Always.”

Knuckles held Scarlett to him as though she were the only lifeline keeping him tethered to this world. To his sanity. She heard his heartbeat within his chest. An odd rhythm, faster than before.

But it was his. He was here. A little different, but the same person she’d given the past five years of her life searching for.

She’d found him, they’d found each other, and suddenly the world didn’t look as bleak as it once had.

Scarlett guided him as they began their travels together. Seeking healing. Seeking a new life.

Seeking peace.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

So I was wondering - is this the only version of Engel, that would truly work out with König? I'm kinda referring to the ask where he gets positive attention from a fellow female team mate. That really got me thinking. (Thanks other anon! ^^)

Imagine she doesn't run away when she sees his true colours (Great, I've got Cyndi Laupers "true colours" stuck in my head now. Thanks brain.). She also knows, that there is no fixing him and she still falls for him. Having a little itch for madness herself and not judging him for his flaws and weirdness, understanding his brokenness, the trauma behind this odd guy. But she is a mature, collected and confident woman and would not put up with his shit that much. She would be more standoffish with him, demanding a relationship that is on eye level, she knows her worth. But she means well, is caring and attentive towards him and wants to give him love. She is not afraid of him and wants to learn how to work with his issues. She thinks he's worth it, despite everything.

Maby after building trust and (if we follow the team mate thought) seeing how confident she handles work, how much she has her shit together, he could relax a bit. Trusting her and let loose a bit, looking up to her instead of looking down and having the constant urge to control and protect her. Let HER take care of HIM. Feeling safe himself for once, because he knows how strong she is and he admires that about her, despite it challenging his views of woman as fragile and in need of protection immensely.

He'd still be a maniac, you couldn't change that of course, but even the maddest of madmans should get a break sometimes. And don't get me wrong, after all, the possessiveness and controlling is his way of loving, he doesn't know better, but she would put him in his place, if he takes it too far and then he'd turn it down a notch - out of respect for her. And then he'd do it again of course. It would be kind of a Sisyphos situation with him.

I would love that for him, but maby he's too twisted to be able to allow something like that. Maby that dynamic with Engel, where he can fully live his obsessions and possessiveness is the perfect outcome for him. And in that case, I'm happy for our lovely lunatic killing machine. :)

Aaah this one gave me brainrot! Such a beautiful and wholesome take. I wrote that "strong soldier lady complimenting König and making him flustered for a change" -bit without thinking much about what would happen next…

And I’m a bit of a party pooper when I agree with that last paragraph 🥲 I think König’s need to be in control would make him want to break a strong person no matter what it takes - and by breaking, I mean manipulating, seducing and bullying them under his will.

He cannot bear the feeling that someone is a step ahead of him (even if it meant she just wants to meet on equal grounds!) König wouldn’t feel safe because his view of relationships and power dynamics is so distorted. A powerful, confident, independent woman who tries to love him in a healthy way, is a treat… and a threat.

There’s no mistake he would be in love. If she gave him compliments, gave him attention, flirted with him and showered him with a healthy dose of kindness, he would be in heaven. But boundaries? König would try to push through those boundaries every chance he gets, and he would try to find her weak spots so that he can infiltrate and start to dominate her.

He wouldn’t be physically violent with these attempts, no! But his possessiveness and manipulative behavior would go absolutely bonkers. It would drive him crazy if this green flag girl refused to play by his rules and escaped his traps or tried to “train” him in any way.

If nothing else worked, if they arrived at an impasse, König would try to dominate her through sex and his physicality. If she was willing to surrender to him and became more submissive, he would view it as a way to finally manipulate her. A-ha, she's just a brat that needs to be tamed! (Just imagine this confident, capable soldier babe slowly crumbling inside, waiting for her Austrian dom to come to her and teach her how to behave, slowly driving her to sweet madness…)

[zu-is-here]

*pokes* dustberry ideas? doesnt have to be drawings, just i d e a s (cough d y n a m i c s) #this is your fault zu #you posted 1 drawing and noped out! #leaving me here with this Brainrot

My ideas are mostly "speechless", i.e. visual (that's why I can't help but draw them instead of just sharing :'D), but in terms of their dynamic...

I believe it could start with a confrontation (like Star Sanses VS Bad Guys), since Swap is probably strong enough to fight Murder back and talk about "the right path", "staying determined but for the good", "believing in him", etc. This resemblance to Papyrus and naive optimism but in sans might stop Murder from another boring killing (best case scenario).

Followed by simple indulgence, Murder may be acting all like "You can't understand me, you never were in my shoes" (*ba dum tss*)—and he will be right, so Swap has nothing to do but to agree. It would be better than trying to convince him otherwise, and such sincere support may cause Murder a hidden yet genuine interest.

After that, he may realize that he needs more of Swap's inspiring company—without admitting this, of course. Murder is still a secretive, silent skeleton, and Swap will surely try to impress him (cause "The Magnificent Sans can do anything and even more!") and in the end naively decide that he failed again—without noticing the slight smile under the hood.

#heheh #sorry not sorry (#same here) #<33

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Hiiii!!! How're you doing? Good I hope!! ahh I'm seeing these amazing reblogs on your page and with College and my F1 brainrot I haven't been able to read Irondad fics 😭😭😭 is it okay if I ask you to give me some recommendations? preferable whump or sickfics (with fluff, lots of fluff) 👉🏼👈🏼 or like which fics did you enjoy the most this year/past 6 months 💙💙💙🩵🩵🩵🩵

Sorry for the delay in answering! I just needed to find the right time to really sit down and make a *good* list. Haha. Here is a list of what I've read recently and enjoyed a lot. Some of it fits better into your criteria than others, and some of them are still in progress, but here's the list! Don't forget to kudos and comment!!

[fic list with links below the cut!]

Paradigm shift by Bergen (T) In Progress (I love where this one is going! Lot's of fun surprises)

Peter got a Stark phone when he was ten. Adrian took him to a big store with lots of TV screens that all played the same video of Tony Stark declaring to the world that he was Iron Man. They ducked behind the microwaves, both of them giggling as Adrian stuffed the phone under Peter’s sweater.

They walked right out the door without tripping the alarm, and Adrian bought him ice cream to celebrate

After his parents die, Peter is taken in by the Toomes’ family. Things slowly, then quickly spiral out of control. All Adrian wants is to take revenge on Tony Stark. All Peter wants is to do the right thing. Why is that so much harder than expected?

Spaghetti and Red Wine by arthropodwithapen (M) In Progress (Lots of good whump moments but also some fluff and angst!)

After Peter's precarious position goes from bad to worse time and time again, he is left all alone with nothing but his anger and resentment at the world to keep him company. He wonders how much more he can take and whether the growing grudge between him and the Avengers will be enough to finish him off for good. Will he be able to complete his mission in time? Does he even want to anymore?

Of course. He is Spider-Man and he has a job to do. And he'll do it even if it kills him. For everyone else's sake.

Strands in the Rope series by Sara (ctrsara) @ctrsara (T) Complete (this whole series and its follow-up are super great. Lots of angst, misunderstandings, and of course, a whole ton of fluff)

A collection of insights starting after the events of Homecoming, mostly from Tony's perspective. The relationship that Tony and Peter had built by the time Infinity War happened (or not - I'm not a big fan) wasn't built on any big world-ending events, but on countless lab sessions, movie nights, smaller emergencies, and conversations. All of these combined to form a bond between them just as strong as blood ties, and just as unbreakable. I feel like we missed out on all that on-screen, so I can never read enough stories that would maybe cover that period. There is a follow-up series called, Unbroken Strands.

Please, Help Me by Muikelle (Not Rated) In Progress (So. Much. Whump.)

Mj watched as they pride apart the car. Her car. The only car she had, the one Tony had gifted her as a graduation gift. The car she and Peter first- well. Anyways. Then Peter was being moved out of it, and slow motion had taken over once more. She was standing to go get to him, he needed her. She needed him. But a man stopped her, told her to sit down, or something of the likes. She was pissed off when they closed the ambulance door and finally took off with her inside, she didn't need to be in there, she needed to be with Peter.

Or Mj and Peter get into a car crash when coming home from spring break.

Iron Dad: Coming Home by JAWorley (T) Complete (I just started reading this but so far it's really great!)

Cold, tired, hungry, and homeless, 14 year old Peter Parker gets taken in by Adrian Toomes and his crew. Mr. Toomes is a great guy who teaches Peter how to survive on the streets, and Peter loves him for it, despite that Mr. Toomes hates Peter’s hero Iron Man and says Tony Stark is out to line his own pockets by stepping on the little guy. When Iron Man appears one day and presents Spider Man with an opportunity too good to pass up, Peter finds himself having to make up his mind about what ‘helping the little guy’ really means. Peter also begins to find out some ugly truths about the things Adrian Toomes and his crew are making, and has to decide if the safety Toomes offers is worth throwing Spider Man’s mission and morals out the window. Can he find that same safety with Mr. Stark? So much of Peter’s future hangs in the balance and depends on the choices he makes. An anti-hero and an anti-villain are just one step over the same line in a different direction.

Double-sided Coin by kingdomfaraway @asyouleft (G) Complete (I have never read anything like this before and it was so so good!)

The Iron Man rarely had assignments that weren’t direct kill orders.

Usually he was given a weapon and a target, with the strict instructions of leaving no one alive, target and witness alike. They didn’t expect him to make too much conversation, to integrate himself into the person’s life, to find a way to gain the target’s trust. He was not a spy. He was a machine made to kill, to take down threats to HYDRA, and to preserve the Greater Good.

When the assignment came from high up to kidnap, not kill, a young boy, Peter Parker, he was a little baffled.

(or How to Make a Deadly Assassin Adopt You: A HYDRA!Tony fic)

How to Get Banned from Monaco (again) by niniblack @niniblack (T) Complete (This is so funny and so perfectly in character. I love it.)

Tony texts Rhodey before they leave for Monaco:

two rules for this trip

don’t let Peter out of your sight

don’t let him do anything Pepper would get mad about

Rhodey: that second one doesn’t leave many options

will you make me a lot of pancakes (when we meet again?) by Peng_Peng (G) Complete (This is some great Ironfam whump, right here!)

Five times hurting you + Five times receiving your kindness.

Peter knew from the first time they met that the kid wasn't going to like him. But Peter could do that. She was his first and only sister after all.

A New Point of View by waitingondaisies (T) Complete (This one is si so fun with lots of funny and serious moments. It's a good balance)

Peter rushes out of school to join Tony in fighting the aliens that appear over New York, leaving behind the problems that plague his life.

He ends up leaving them behind for far longer than expected when an alien substance causes him to swap bodies with Tony. They agree to live each other’s lives to keep the mishap under wraps, giving each of them an up-close and personal view of the other’s hidden problems.

Peter will come to learn that Tony’s life isn’t as glamorous as it appears, and Tony will come face to face with all of the things that Peter never told him about: bullies, unfair teachers, and economic struggles.

Saving the World Does Not a Hero Make by Azure_K_Mello (M) Complete (This isn't an Irondad fic so much as it's an older MCU/X-Men Crossover but I read it again recently because I love it so much)

Years ago, Tony Stark created a brutal weapon. Even when he was the Merchant of Death, he couldn’t bring himself to put it on the market. But, when S.H.I.E.L.D. learned of its existence, they wanted it. Deciding Spider-Man was the weakest link in Iron Man’s armor, Captain America, Black Widow and Falcon were sent to apprehend him — hoping he either knew where the weapon was or that they could trade him to Tony for it.

But, apprehending a fifteen-year-old is more correctly be termed as kidnapping. And what S.H.I.E.L.D. called interrogation was, in actuality, torture. And, when push came to shove, Peter had to save himself when no one else was going to help.

And my shameless self-promotion...

Threenager by happyaspie (G) Incomplete

While on patrol, Peter is struck by a spell that turns him into a toddler. Or mostly into a toddler. His memories, intellect, and experiences are still intact. Unfortunately, that makes being trapped in a toddler's body, with a toddler's motor skills that much harder. His legs are too short, and his fingers are too uncooperative. He can’t ride in the car without a super claustrophobic car seat. He can’t even wash his hands without help and it's all very frustrating. Between the teasing, Tony does his absolute best to help.

I could add so much more to this list, but I think I'll stop here. Haha. As far as sickfics go, @sicktember is coming up soon and I know *I* will have plenty to add to the genera during that event!! So be on the lookout for that, my friend! And Thank you so much for asking me to compile this list!!

[littleoanh]

Helloo! I just wanna say that your blog is super pretty. I don't have a request, but if you don't mind can you please give me your thoughts on this brainrot with fem!Bonten Executive!reader?

Bonten hearing the news from their supposedly allied gang that the reader's dead due to poisoning and she's killed by someone from their gang. The gang intended to fight Bonten in the first place and they're just playing nice before revealing their true colors after having you killed. However, right after the messenger said that while laughing at Bonten, Sanzu received a call from your number. He immediately answered it and he's greeted by your voice.

"Hey Sanzu! I caught the leader of (gang's name) and he's all tied up! Do you want me to do anything?"

In reality, you already find the other gang sus and you decided to fake your death so that the gang will show their true colors in front of Bonten, and you also did that so that you can infiltrate the gang to find out their intentions and get their leader. Even better that you suddenly hang up and Bonten heard a knock on the door before it opened, revealing you and one of the lower ranking Bonten members carrying the unconscious body of the other gang leader.

A/N: Hello darling! Aww, you are too sweet (∩´͈ ᵕ `͈∩). Thank you so much! And of course I don’t mind giving my thoughts (ᗒᗜᗕ).

Man oh man, you best believe the other Bonten Executives are beyond help when they received the phone call of the tragic news. Being in Bonten, there will always be a risk of death, especially being an executive. But it never crossed their minds that you would be the first to be taken out. If Mikey is Bonten’s King, then you are Bonten’s Queen. Deadly and Fierce. The supposed allied gang (A/N: I am bad at coming up with names so no name gang for them lol) are in deep shit and this will end in a bloodbath. No mercy and no survivors.

Mikey 

He will handle the gang leader himself. Normally his executives are the ones who dirty their hands but this is personal. If wiping out the gang isn’t enough, he will order to go after their families too. 

Sanzu 

Serious Sanzu = they’re fucked, so they better leave the country and change their appearance and identity. Leave no traces behind because HE WILL find them. He’s not called the Mad Dog for no reason.

Kakucho

 Emotionless and empty, he is completely numb. He is always the rational one between Sanzu and him. He will blindly follow his murderous instincts and there’s nothing they can do to stop him.

Takeomi 

He won’t show it on his face but he is broken by this news. Though he doesn’t get his hands dirty anymore, he will be working behind the scenes. If he catches them getting away, he will bring them back to their executioner (*cough* Sanzu *cough*).

Ran 

Normally he takes care of business quickly, no need to drag things out. However, he wants them to toy with them and make them suffer. He wants them to feel the pain they have inflicted upon him.

Rindou 

In complete denial at first, Ran had to be the one to snap him out of it. Then it turns into rage, how dare they take you away from him? Just like Ran, he will make them suffer by crippling them before ending them in a gruesome way.

Kokonoi 

The only one who shows emotion on his face. He already lost Akane, now he has to lose you too? Like Takeomi, he will be working behind the scenes and will financially ruin all of them and including their families. 

Mochi 

They woke the beast. If they thought Kakucho’s brute strength was terrifying … they never saw Mochi’s true strength. His fists are scarier than guns and it’s strong enough to take them out.  

The one thing they all have in common is deep down, they are grieving and remorseful for not having your back. They should’ve known there was something suspicious about that gang. Blinded by rage as the messenger laughed at their pride and hung up. Sanzu receives a phone call, his eyes widened and immediately answers. It’s your phone number. The moment he hears your voice, his breath is taken away. Is this truly you talking or is someone impersonating you? 

They are dumbfounded when they find you coming into Bonten with your lower subordinates carrying the unconscious body of the gang leader. With a confident and bright smile on your face, the room no longer felt dark and empty. Kakucho orders your subordinates to take the leader to the torture room. You best believe they all run towards you and hug the hell out of you. Their Bonten’s Queen is home, safe and sound. 

Albie ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[weirdoaroundtheblock]

I think daily about the KFC breakup and how well the quote « the opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. » fits with it.

Because Satoru and Suguru weren't hanging out as much as they used to since they were both sent on solo missions all the time.

(Also, Satoru was obsessed with the idea of being the strongest, because as a child, he got told he was all the time. But, despite being the strongest, he lost someone he was supposed to protect. Someone he wanted to protect, and he became terrified by the idea of lacking again. He became terrified of loosing someone because he turned out to not be strong enough to protect them.)

And suddenly, he gets back from an other solo mission, and is told that his best friend – the one that always told him killing must have a purpose, that as Jujutsu sorcerers, they had to protect the weak – killed an entire village, including his own parents.

He wants to talk to him because 'wtf?', but he doesn't know where he is. After getting the info from Shoko, he goes to see him.

And he is mad, because he doesn't understand.

And he is scared – terrified even if we're being honest – because he feels like he's loosing him already, because he hasn't reached out to Satoru directly, because he didn't plan on this ever happening, because he was supposed to be the strongest because he was supposed to not lose anymore people he cared about.

But Suguru... doesn't react. He seems indifferent.

And I'm sure Satoru wished he could talk to him properly. Wished they weren't in the street, the crowd brushing by them, unaware of how fucked up this all is. Wished Suguru could stop for a minute, just a minute, to look him in the eye, and just explain to him, because if he did, then he could help him and everything would be okay. They would be okay.

I'm sure Satoru wished Suguru would take the time. But he keeps turning his back to him, ready to leave as soon as he considers the conversation to be done.

So when Suguru starts to leave, in a last ditch effort, Satoru tries to force him to fight for his life, here, in the middle of the street, because he is desperate. And because Suguru has to react to this doesn't he? He can't be indifferent to his best friend wanting to kill him?

And yet, he his. He turns back around, and leaves him all alone.

And from Satoru's perspective, it just seemed like Suguru didn't love him enough to take the time, because why else wouldn't he give him a proper fucking goodbye??

But, what I'd like to believe though, is that Suguru showed indifference because he was scared to see Satoru's reaction if he didn't. Because he knows Satoru, and he knows how stubborn he can get. Because he knew he wouldn't, and couldn't understand. Because he knew Satoru would try to pretend like it could be fixed, but – even if Suguru regreted doing any of it – he killed an entire village, how could it be fixed?

I'd like to believe he turned his back so easily, not because he didn't care, but because it would have crushed him, to see Satoru's pleading eyes and breaking heart, as he gave him a proper goodbye.

I'd like to believe Suguru's indifference was just a facade, to help make the breakup just a little bit easier for him.

Because Geto Suguru loved Gojo Satoru till the very end, and nothing will make me believe otherwise.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk and reading all of my brainrot.

[dilatorywriting]

afdhjdjd so. Reaper!Rook brainrot anon here. Back again, because 3 is the magic number, and apparently I'm a liar and I actually have one last piece for you. Partly as thanks for putting up with me and my loonnngg text walls for the past couple days, and partly a "I hope you feel better soon! So here's something extra sweet"

So as you can imagine, the indifferent, apathetic, unbothered nature of Baker!Reader means they aren't generally flustered by things. Rook's flowery language is no exception, and conversations between the two generally look something like this to the outside viewer:

Rook: Alas! Your metal heart is missing! Where could it have wandered, from where I last saw it? MC: Second drawer on the right. (translation: Rook couldn't find the tea strainer. Your tea strainer happens to be heart-shaped.)

However, there are some things Rook does which make your chest feel warm. This is usually when he's speaking to you without much verbal dressage, and his voice is lower, and there's something softer in his eye.

The first time you really took notice of it was the first time Rook was ever late. Rook was always punctual to a fault, which, considering his line of work, was a true testament to his abilities. He always, without fail, returned to your bakery at 4:30am, since the day you met him. But it's now 5:30am, and he hasn't shown up yet. You're already halfway through prepping the bakewell batter, when you realize you're out of almond extract, and you remember you weren't even supposed to be making bakewell tarts today. Rooks absence weighs on the back of your mind a lot more than you'd ever expected it to, and you move through the prep in a distracted daze. You'd wondered before, in passing, if Rook would just simply disappear one day, once his curiosity was satisfied. You'd never dwelled on it long, because the thought was sour in your throat.

Rook arrives a little closer to 6. There's a lot of blood on him, and for the first time you wonder if any of it is his - if he can bleed at all, or be wounded. His shirt is also badly torn, but there dont seem to be any marks on him. The next thing you know, you're standing right in front of him, hands hovering awkwardly in the air before crossing over your chest. If Rook is surprised, he doesn't show it, but his typical, polished expression does seem a shade apologetic. He hands you a burlap sack as he launches into one of his flowery speeches. The words run over your head, but the gist of it is him apologizing for being late.

Inside the sack are three things: a wrapped cut of meat (from what? you have no idea), some dried lavender that appears to be glowing faintly, and - at this you blink - almond extract. You look up at him, only to find him watching you, with a cross between curiosity and... anticipation? Rook was very hard to read at times.

And it's hard to parse exactly what you feel, in that moment, but it's... something. Something that makes you get on your tip toes (your hand grabbing his shoulder for balance - it doesnt budge under your weight, like he's made of marble, or something), and press a kiss to his cheek as you tell him "thank you". Rook blinks, then smiles - a soft, fragile thing, unlike the strong, crafted ones that typically grace his face. He simply says "You're welcome," in a softer, quieter, tone than before. And you feel warm. A warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with the large ovens behind you.

(annnddd scene. I had this last piece of tooth rotting fluff stuck in my head, filed it away because I've poured sooooo much brainrot about Rook in your ask box alreadey, but then read that you have a cold so. I thought "You know what? Let's do it. Let's send in the extra sweet fluff like it's a get-well-soon card for one last hurrah")

Excuse me while I IMPLODE. Holy shit this is BEYOND ADORABLE. EVERY PART YOU'VE SENT IN IS A WHOLE ASS TREAT AND IT'S KILLING ME. I HOPE YOU KNOW HOW AMAZING YOU ARE, FRIEND BECAUSE AHHHHHHHHH

But yup. Nope. This cinches it. Hello Word Doc, my old friend. Welcome to a new Hyper Fixaxtion Hell

And thank you, thank you!! I'm hopefully getting over my ick! (Went to comic con this weekend while already not feeling 100% and it took me out. Been lying around like a dehydrated slug for the past two days lol) This is such a lovely treat. Thank you~ 💚 💚 

[giggly-squiggily]

squiggily my love how are you, i feel like it's been forever since i crashed in your ask box 🖤 i hope the universe gives you the queen treatment you deserve and i will just humbly leave my present in your courtroom and then show myself out to watch from my evil tower of evilness how you open the box and find *drumroooooll* a kny modern au scenario because i'm BACK BABY (moderately so i still need to write job applications but i'm back that's the point)

so anyway the scenario. and it needs to be modern au because. people are alive there.

i've been having some sabito brainrot and he would just be SUCH a horrifying ler, i know it. he knows exactly what teases get to his victim, he knows all their spots, he's agile enough to dodge attacks and strong enough to pin people down, he just has the full package. taking him down is literally impossible.

giyuu tries it. epic fail abort mission the absolute worst day of his life and he's had many of those so you know it's bad.

tanjiro tries it. EPIC fail, sabito is a substitute coach in urokodaki's dojo after all and he knows ALL of tanjiro's moves, it's hopeless.

nezuko tries it. failfailfail because yeah she's cute and dangerous but sabito is a teacher, he knows of the danger that comes from small people and once you see where kids stick their hands you become kinda immune to any kind of cuteness.

giyuu ropes his friends into it. some of them only need a little nudge ("i've been wanting to kill that guy for years" - "SANEMI"), some of them need extra encouragement ("and what's in it for me?" - "fun? exercise? come on kyo..." - "listen if you want this to happen you better treat me to some quality burgers because i won't risk my life for nothing") but in the end they do indeed end up trying their luck. emphasis on trying.

kanae and kyojuro fail spectacularly and publicly because they thought it was a smart idea to ambush sabito on campus. tengen and mitsuri fail embarrassingly because they have all this strength and at the end of the day it really does nothing. sanemi and obanai refuse to talk about it and akaza isn't sure whether he should be absolutely fuming at the defeat or ecstatic that he actually found someone whose martial art skills are on par with his own.

(shinobu and gyomei are smart enough to stay out of the mess and honestly good for them)

except there is one person who can actually take sabito down and that person is makomo. and getting the intel from her was always out of giyuu's pay league (she's EXPENSIVE) but now that sabito has humiliated all of his friends, tengen and his disgusting off-shore untaxed bank account are happy to chip in. and the trick is really just that sabito has one really weird spot but once you get that the rest of his spots sort of unlock like bonus levels and then it's bad. if you're just one person, getting the spot might be hard but well. they're eight now.

that's it i don't have any details after it i just wanted to share the setup. have the most lovliest wonderfullest day and stay hydrated, i will now go rewatch sk8 as i yearn for the ova they announced 🖤🖤

REY! 💖💖💖💖 Hello my love! It’s always a bright day when you come by! I wouldn’t say the universe is treating me very luxurious right now (shark week started and I’m hurting baaaaad 😭) I can’t wait to devour this delightful present! *opens it and gets smacked like a giant boxing glove full of modernAU goodies* YIPPIE! 🥰🥰🥰

SABITO HELP WHZHWJDJSJSJS He’s that one guy you just don’t expect to be so deadly in tickle wars? First glances are deceiving; with his sweet smiles and charming nature you’d think he’d be such an easy lee…BUT THEN- oh as you said; he is DIABOLICAL! Endless knowledge of everyone’s tickle spots combined with his endless agility and strength and there’s no one who can defeat him!

JANZJANZNSNNS SANEMI WHHSB 🤣🤣🤣 He’s so ready to kill good lord! And Rengoku is a MOOD! He’s not going down without proper compensation and I love him for it whsbbsbbsnsbs (Akaza reluctantly impressed is GOLD QJZNANZNSNND 🤣🤣🤣🤣🥰🥰🥰🥰) They all just kinda shuffle back defeated and Giyu’s genuinely concerned there’s no way to defeat Sabito

Makomo knows her worth like a true girlboss and I love her for it whsnwnsnwn TENGEN ABXBNWHSJS He’s not ashamed- Sabito took his built like a building down so fast whsnnwnsns I love the idea of Sabito having such a unknown spot qjsnnsnsns (I don’t know why- I’m thinking elbows; like- just above the joint if you squeeze it with the right pressure it’s like an on switch) He gets all giggly and then shocked cause “Wait that wasn’t supposed to happen” and now everyone’s looking at him like 👀👀👀😈😈😈 and he’s RUNNING!

It goes down in history as the greatest fox hunt of all time- Shinobu took pictures and everything (she needs blackmail for future endeavors) and now Sabito has to get even more creative with his tickly attacks to avoid said antics 🤣🤣🤣 God this AU is so GREAT!

Thank you for sharing Rey! This made my kinda iffy morning a lot better 🥰🥰🥰