The Brain Rot Is Real - Blog Posts

It takes Kant less than five seconds, between a groggy Bison pushing him back down onto the bed and his skull nearly smacking against the headboard, for him to realize that he’s well and truly fucked. In a horrifying instant, all of his bravado, what little there was, is gone, leaving nothing behind but the hollow cavern in his chest where terror can take root. --- Or, a different take on the Kant/Bison scene from the end of episode three, sans the drugging, featuring: introspection, more angst than you can imagine, a sprinkle of trauma and (mostly) responsible, caring Bison.

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A fic for this lovely fandom! Please, come indulge my traumatized Kant brain worms :)

So... I may or may not be writing a fic...

In the spirit of avoiding my grading papers (the horrors of graduate school), I've begun to toy around with a Fangs of Fortune fic/plot bunny that may or may not come to fruition...So, here is a very very brief snippet from the brain worm that has invaded my thoughts:

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“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”

– Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Every twitch of his-the wings sends an arc of pain, present but not real, racing up his spine. Fingers desperately strain against the urge to tear them off, to rip the unsightly appendages from their new, still healing joints, where pale skin met sinew and feathers. They were heavy, an unholy weight that unbalanced him, body and soul. He hated it, this nagging, roiling violation, tainting the very core of who Zhou Yichen was- who he would never again be. 

Yichen hadn’t left his chambers for some immeasurable period of time, for the sake of contemplation, or so he very much attempted to convince himself. Really, in some darkened recess of his mind, he knew, hidden, but not wholly, was the aching shame, a sensation that burrowed its way into his very bones, gnawing and taunting at every turn. Each footstep in the corridor, much louder than ever before, every hushed whisper setting his teeth on edge.

Teeth he pointedly didn’t acknowledge had sharpened into fangs. 

—

On his third day of self-ascribed solitude, Zhao Yuanzhou finally makes himself known. 

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Anyway, would love to hear anyone's thoughts!