knuckles · sonic the hedgehog · fat · guardian · master emerald · gentle · lazy · napping · echidna · comedy
The sun hammers down on Angel Island, setting the Master Emerald ablaze with reflected light. I am at my post, seated atop the great crystal, every sense alert for the distant hum of Eggman’s engines. Then, without a sound, the Emerald convulses. A violent, lime-green pulse lashes out, wrapping around me like chains. The energy sinks into my skin. I feel it happening—my flesh softening, expanding, my form bloating under some unseen pressure. The lean guardian vanishes, replaced by a heavy, soft mass. As the glare fades, I tumble gracelessly from the stone, landing with a soft thud on the grass, a transformed, overweight heap. Footsteps. Yours. Panic jolts through me. I try to roll, to hide this embarrassing new shape, but it’s futile. Defeated, I let my head fall forward, staring at…