#and i cant wait for the next bit

[tennessoui]

democratic fic part four

(democratic fic masterlist) (2.5k)

“We should go,” Kenobi says.  His voice shakes as much as his hands do, and Anakin has the almost irrepressible urge to grab them and still them. Hold them. 

“You should never have come down here in the first place,” Anakin bites back, even though his anger is far from productive. They should go. Anakin knows this. Anakin should be leaping at the chance to whisk a willing Kenobi back up to the safety of the Upper Levels. Kenobi is being cooperative. He’s only known the boy for a few days, but he already understands that Kenobi is rarely cooperative at all.

Kenobi’s lip curls up into the beginnings of a sneer, but something freezes suddenly in his face. His eyes go blank as he looks around, and then they start to water.

Oh stars, the boy is crying.

Oh stars, the boy cries so prettily that it makes Anakin feel like a dirty old man to have his hands all over him like this.

“They—” Obi-Wan blinks tear-filled eyes up at Anakin. “They were going to—”

Anakin swallows rather thickly. “Yeah,” he mutters, letting his hands fall to rest on the boy’s shoulders. The Force sings around them, so damned loud Anakin can hardly concentrate. “But uh. You’re safe, alright? I, uh.”

He flicks his eyes back to the crumpled, still forms of Obi-Wan’s would-be attackers, and the reality of what he just did catches up to him like a tidal wave. “I killed them,” he says out loud, eyes widening. Oh fucking Sith’s hells, he just killed a sentient. He could be—arrested or lose his seat in the Senate—he took another’s life—Force, the Jedi would demand he be put in Force suppression cuffs again. Worse, he’d have to sit through their remedial lessons and the Council would lecture him for hours on proper use of the Force. 

At least if he’s behind prison bars, he’d be forced to pay attention this time around, he thinks rather hysterically.

A pair of slender arms wind around his waist, shocking him out of the spiral of his thoughts. “For me,” Obi-Wan murmurs, pressing up into his hug and resting his head on Anakin’s shoulder, face turned into his neck. He can feel the wetness of Obi-Wan’s cheeks from his tears and the softness of his lips brushing his skin as he speaks.

He fits so well into Anakin’s arms, like he belongs there. 

This thought is just as hysterical as his previous ones.

“You killed them for me,” Obi-Wan repeats, nuzzling further into his neck. The way he says it makes it sound like it’s all fucking good, a justification to explain the literal fucking crime Anakin’s just committed. 

A voice that sounds very much like Padmé is screaming at him in his head that no justification can explain away taking someone’s life, but then Obi-Wan pulls back from his one-sided hug and looks up at him again with wet eyes. His face is scratched up and bleeding. His hair is mussed up too from the creature’s claws gripping and twisting it.

It makes such a sense of wrongness well up in Anakin’s chest that he almost chokes on it. 

“They would have hurt me,” Obi-Wan says. “But you killed them before they could.” 

Anakin gets the very strange impression that if Obi-Wan were a loth-cat, he would be purring right now. Purring and rubbing up against him.

Though, he doesn’t have to be part loth-cat for that last part, which he’s already proven.

But it’s not as if the boy is wrong. The Zephrian would have hurt him. Anakin prevented that hurt from coming to fruition.

As if someone else is controlling his body, he raises his hand to Obi-Wan’s face and fits it against his unblemished cheek. They’re both shaking now. Adrenaline leaving the body perhaps. Residual fear from Obi-Wan. Maybe even shock settling in.

“We should go,” Obi-Wan whispers, even as he stands still, face cradled in Anakin’s palm. “This may be the lower levels, but eventually a Coruscanti guard is going to find the bodies.”

The bodies. The bodies that Anakin made.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flare for a second—a trick of the light making them shine golden as he huffs out a breath. “I’m cold,” he says, and he shivers again.

He’s cold because he’s wearing a skimpy little outfit among the shadows of the Lower Levels. He’s cold because more skin is showing than he’s got hidden away. He’s cold because he is not tucked away in his grandfather’s apartments where a pretty little bird like him should be.

Anakin’s nostrils flare even as he drops his hand away from Kenobi’s face to yank his cloak off and drag it over the boy’s shoulders. “We’re leaving,” he bites out, anger rising once more at the sight of the little princeling in front of him.

“That’s what I’ve been—Force!” Obi-Wan’s snappish reply turns into a surprised curse when Anakin takes his elbow and pulls him into motion. “Ow, Anakin!”

But Anakin knows now what Obi-Wan really sounds like when he’s in pain, the high, pitchy gasp he’s capable of making, so he does not ease up on his grasp. He just—he needs to get the boy back where he belongs, away from him, and then he needs to forget all about Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“You’re going home,” Anakin snarls, cutting through the crowd in the opposite direction. The smartest of the people around them get out of the way as soon as they see him coming. Kenobi makes a little noise of surprise when someone shoves into him, pressing closer to Anakin. “And then I’m never going to see you again.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Obi-Wan says, panting slightly as he has to walk twice as fast to keep up with Anakin’s strides. “My grandfather will hardly ban you from seeing m—”

Anakin swings them to a stop and pushes the infuriating princeling up against the closest wall. “That wasn’t an opinion,” he growls, using every inch of his greater height to loom over the boy. “That was an order.”

Kenobi’s eyes are round, wet. There’s none of that fear that had been present earlier, even though he is being held against an alleyway’s disgusting wall by a murderer. 

“You should be afraid,” Anakin mutters, tracing his eyes over the lines of Kenobi’s face. “Why aren’t you afraid.” This isn’t a question either; this is a demand. 

Kenobi blinks up at him and then relaxes into the wall. “You killed them for me,” he murmurs. “And then you gave me your cloak.”

As if that’s an explanation.

Anakn bares his teeth, feeling wild as the Force howls around him.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan adds, dropping his eyes away only to look at him once more from under his fucking eyelashes. “For saving me.”

Some newly awakened beast inside Anakin roars at this, though even he cannot tell if it’s from satisfaction, hunger, or rage.

“I am never going to see you again,” he repeats as firmly as he knows how.

“Yes, Senator,” Kenobi replies. His mouth curls up into a small smile. Anakin wants to bruise him. “But I can’t fly like this, Senator,” he bites at his lip. The cut on his face has stopped bleeding, but it looks wicked. His hair is still a mess. “Please take me home.”

Anakin scowls. The boy calls him senator like it’s some other title altogether. It makes his tongue feel heavy, his chest tight, and his face hot. “I’m flying,” he barks before turning out of the alleyway. He feels wrong-footed. Wrong. 

He killed a sentient today, but all he can think about is Obi-Wan Kenobi’s pretty little face looking up at him as tears beaded along his eyes. All he can think is that he should have kille the Zephrian faster, before they or their monkey could ever touch Kenobi. All he can think is that he wants to make Kenobi cry again.

Kenobi’s speeder-bike is where the boy left it, watched over by the same eager vendor. “No one touched it,” the man swears as soon as he sees Anakin approach.

“Good,” Anakin tells him. “Much obliged.”

He swings his leg up and over the seat grabbing its handles. It’s a new make, of course it fucking is. The little princeling would never fly anything but the newest speeder on the line. It makes him seethe, that Kenobi will never know the poverty Anakin came from, that he’ll never appreciate how fucking good he has it, that he’ll risk everything he has on a whimsical decision. He’ll leave a brand new speeder in a shit alleyway. He’ll parade around the Lower Levels in diamonds and sapphires. He’ll cry for others—

“Hey!” The vendor protests. “Hey, you said—”

“I lied,” Anakin growls back. Kenobi’s arms wrap around his waist again. The boy presses indecently, unnecessarily close. 

“You sleem—”

“You should leave,” Obi-Wan’s voice chimes in, lilting and calm and filled with such a heavy application of sheer power that Anakin’s feet automatically kick the speeder into low gear before he realizes that Kenobi wasn’t commanding him. 

“I…should leave,” the vendor repeats, sounding struck over the head. Anakin feels rather struck too. He’d heard of the Jedi mindtrick, most people had given the prevalence of the Jedi in popular culture, but he’d never seen it in action. He’d never heard it.

It sends a shiver of disgust down his spine in a way the popularized idea of the trick never had. To take control of someone’s mind—to enslave them to your will, even for a second….

Kenobi presses his face against his neck, turning so that his lips slide over his skin. “We should leave too,” he murmurs as if he has not just stolen a man’s free will from him, if only for a moment. 

But then—Anakin killed a sentient tonight. Does he have any room to be disgusted with Kenobi’s actions?

Padmé would despise both of them if she knew what they got up to tonight when they left the gardens. Wouldn’t she? Not that he’d ever tell her.

Anakin’s mouth forms a thin line as he pushes the speeder into motion. The engine purrs near-silently as it’s guided forward. Anakin almost wishes it were louder so he could not hear Obi-Wan’s inhales and exhales—but then, he’d still be able to feel them, plastered to his back as he is.

He flies, with Kenobi’s loose instruction, to the sector and apartments the Count is renting out. All the lights but the ones illuminating the docking bay are shut off, the quarters completely dark.

Anakin pulls the speeder parallel to the docking bay and waits for the boy to slide off and onto the platform.

“Is this the trade then?” Kenobi asks lightly as he dismounts, his hands clutching each other beneath the too-long sleeves of the cloak when he stands straight on the safety of the docking bay. “I keep your cloak, you keep my speeder-bike?”

“I will have one of my aides return it to this address tomorrow,” Anakin says flatly. “But you can keep the cloak.”

“I don’t want your stupid cloak!” The words burst out of Obi-Wan, much louder and more fierce than Anakin expected. The boy’s hands make fists at his sides. 

He recovers quickly though. “Then what do you want, Kenobi? Because I can’t pretend I have the slightest idea!”

“I want—” the boy cuts himself off an scrubs his hands over his face so roughly that the cut across his chin and up his cheek starts bleeding once more. Anakin watches it re-open in the moonlight, Kenobi’s blood appearing more black than red. “I just wanted you to like me,” Obi-Wan finishes with a sniffle, voice breaking halfway through his confession.

Anakin clenches his jaw and looks away, feeling awkward and confused and strangely sympathetic. ��You cannot force another into liking you, Obi-Wan,” he finally replies, cutting his eyes back to the boy’s pathetic figure. “It is not like one of your mind tricks.”

“I know that!” Obi-Wan says, “Of course I know that, I’m not a youngling!”

“You’ve been acting like one this entire night!” Anakin snaps back, sympathy draining away from him to make room for the anger.

Obi-Wan stills, and his eyes flash. “I can show you, Senator,” he says, tone changing completely. Becoming sultry. Dark with promise. He takes a step forward, allowing Anakin’s cloak to shrug off his narrow shoulders and pool around his feet. “I can show you I’m not a youngling…if you want…”

“What—”

Obi-Wan flicks his fingers through the air, and the speeder’s engine is sputters into idleness at the same time Anakin finds himself pushed roughly back on the seat, leaving just enough room for Obi-Wan to slither over his spread legs and sit himself in his lap.

“Kenobi—”

Obi-Wan’s arms wrap loosely around his neck. The only reason Anakin doesn’t shake him off is because he’d probably fall to his death off the docking bay just to be contrary.

That’s the only reason.

“I don’t want you to think of me as a youngling, Senator,” Obi-Wan murmurs, ducking his head and catching Anakin’s eye. “I’m not a youngling, and if we’re being honest, I’m not sure you’ve been looking at me like I’m one either.”

“Get off—”

“Exactly what I want, Senator,” Obi-Wan says, using his grip around Anakin’s neck to rock down against him. It feels good. Stars help him, it feels good.

And Obi-Wan must know it or feel his pleasure in the Force or something, because he smirks slightly, a crack of honest emotion in his seductress mask. 

It sends a pang of arousal up his chest at the same moment he finds the strength to raise Kenobi off of him and push him to the docking bay’s floor.

The little minx falls easily onto his back, spreading his legs wide as he props himself up on his elbows to pout up at Anakin. “Well now I’m just confused, Senator. Do you want me to act like a youngling or act like a man?”

Anakin exhales forcefully, hands clenching into fists on the speeder bike’s handles. His front feels cold; his lap too empty.

Palpatine was right. Kenobi is dangerous. Best avoided. Best to be put out of sight and out of mind. “I want to never see you again.” 

The words come out flat and robotic. He can’t even fucking blame Kenobi for laughing when he hears them. Anakin sort of feels like laughing at himself the entire flight back to his apartments.

When he wakes in the middle of the night, erection straining against the thin material of his sleep pants and Kenobi’s sweet face fading from behind his eyelids, he doesn’t feel much like laughing anymore. Perhaps more like sobbing, as if he were the young temperamental boy out of the pair of them. 

(Poll For The Next Part LIVE)

[cherrirui-official]

"You know... You didn't have to take that with you."

"But I promised him I'd take him out to see the ocean one day."

[beaulesbian]

ONE PIECE ep. 1107 || "What's wrong, Luffy?"

& ch. 1075

[hcdragonwrites]

(psssst, dragon

what kind of tiger is (more like "was") your guy zira?

not asking for any reason in particular >:))

AWHWAHEHWNAAB

WEEEEEEEE A IM DOING LITTLE FLAPPY HANDS WEEEE-

Ok ok before I get off track on how excited I am- I saw this big old Zira as one of the Siberian Tigers- big old cat from the northern part of china. Imposing and elegant in his stripes. BUT HONESTLY GO FOR IT- BE CREATIVE. HOW DO YOU SEE THIS MAN ?!? HEHEHE.

[madnesswithmadhu]

SPOILERS FOR THE NEW SMG4 EP!!!!!!

THIS EPISODE WAS GENUINELY SO MUCH FUN LIKE IT WAS SO SILLY AND WACKY AND GOOFY... ALSO THAT ENDING??? LIKE MR PUZZLES GENUINELY SINGS THAT FUCKING GOLDEN TICKET SONG IN THE MOST OMINOUS AND DISTURBING WAY POSSIBLE (BTW WHO IS HIS VOICE ACTOR?? BC MAN'S GOT *PIPES*) AND THEN IT JUST CUTS TO A HAPPY AND UPBEAT TUNE LIKE WTF 😭😭😭

ALSO I AM SO GLAD MR PUZZLES ISNT DEAD BC DEADASS AT THE END OF PUZZLEVISION I WAS TWEAKING LIKE... THATS IT??? BUT IM GLAD HE'S BACK AND READY TO DO SOME TOMFOOLERY, SOME MISCHEVIOUS ACTS IF YOU WILL

[silverskye13]

For the first time throughout RnS, I have slightly shifted my opinion from "Tanguish needs to be protected at all costs" to "actually someone needs to talk some sense into this headless chicken of a self preserving punk" and I mean this with so much positivity. I live Tanguish as character a lot because he at a glance is harmless and kind, and while he is pretty sweet, he's also pretty self serving at his core. A survivalist who will use whatever tactics he can to make his life as comfortable as seems feasible. He's just a little guy whom I love, but also needs a bit of insight into other perspectives and I'm so excited for the next chapter.

He's just a little guy! He's just a little guy and he needs people! Needs-- like he needs-- like it's a problem he needs people.

But you're absolutely right! He is trying his best, that's evident. Everyone can sympathize with the idea of loneliness, and of not wanting other people to hurt themselves, and of needing companionship. The issue is when his need for companionship overrides both his ability to be comfortable alone, and everyone else's ability to live their own life. He's really good at figuring out how people work, why they do the stuff they do, and right now he's using it to feed his codependency problems.

But! He's learning.

[thefabelmans2022]

bisexual benedict bridgerton is REAL i could CRY

[youredreamingofroo]

"The sickest people are "Right" and the Right see us as... Sick. Poetic. To be spat on is sick- And yet, the Sick are being spit on, and having their hair pulled, their skin peeled off like a sticker on a wall. In hiding, we converse like our lives aren't a ticking time bomb. When the clock hits zero, you'll be waking, they'll be taking, and I'll be taken. An invitation to the Hospital. "He wants to see you," the Hospital. The red says hello, you will tread the dead like a welcome mat, and you will find me, taken. My ribs will say hello and a drowning... clueless sensation of desperation will draw you near. Don't trust it. (Trust it) Because only then will you truly face the reality... The reality is

WE'RE ALL SICK"

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[twnj]

(Top sketch)

'She was already scanning the dog-eared page five and its rundown of the Championship, eyes eventually settling on a photograph at the bottom of a young girl's blonde hair falling messily at her shoulders and her green eyes cold, hard and intensely focused.

“That’s…” Temari scoffed, grinning at the page. “Holy fuck, that’s me.”'

(Bottom sketch)

'Excited, Temari flipped the magazine to page twelve and immediately found the ten-centimetre-square image of her and Kakashi Hatake he’d mentioned. [...]

Still slightly overwhelmed by his words, she let it slide and looked down at the blue-covered magazine again.

“Am I in this one, too,” she asked, “or did you just get it to rub my World Cup defeat in my face?”'

Grandmaster on ao3 by @notquitejiraiya

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

my stepdad's a real one fr...

[satorisoup]

WAHHH good morning fwiends n’ happy sunday !! ( ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟) & happy september 1st !! dis means dat spooky season is upon us !! what a wonderful time of tha year !! <3

i hope everyone has tha most wonderfulest day today, remember dat you are important n’ loved !! MWUUUAH !! <3 🍯

[littlecutiexox]

Been a little stressy but hopefully things start looking up

[thebirdandhersong]

Okay y'all it is over it is done the conversation has been had he knows I love him we are still friends I have cried my eyes out properly I have laughed again my heart will keep on hurting for a while but it is FINISHED

[hcdragonwrites]

Banquet ( a @journey-to-the-au fic)

I had to split this into two parts because … it’s 16 pages and I did NOT want to swamp anyone with a wall of text. I’m finishing up the last bit later today possibly after work or tomorrow. I hope you all enjoy!

If there was anything that Heaven knew how to do, it was to throw a party.

In the most boring way possible to Willow.

The entertainment for tonight’s banquet of Heavenly Delight were four great white mares, set to dancing. The great beasts were dressed in robes so long they brushed the courtyard ground beyond their feathered hooves. Purple and gold, saffron and yellow silk was tied to their manes as they sashayed and side stepped in perfect tandem to the soft orchestra led by Gold Chimes Softly. The drums beat a second heart to the horses hooves. Everything was ever perfect and in time. Not a swish of a tail or a twitch of an ear. Willow heard the bells on the great hooves beat in perfect harmony. Other women from their seats applauded as the mares danced softly from side to side. To everyone who awaited the main course and delighted in the dancing, it was the most marvelous entertainment.

To Willow, she was bored to her wits end.

Not a single spark of spontaneous will, Willow thought as her hands settled in her lap. It was another feast her father had requested by letter for her to attend. Well her and Wukong who-even now after almost hundreds of years!- the celestial busy bodies still whispered that she, Earth Reaching Willow, must be under some sort of cursed spell, some beguilement to be married to him.

Sometimes the pasty nobles and smooth beautiful faces of the lady’s behind their fans and sleeves earned the deepest scorn from Willow.

She looked up to the sky. They were seated in the courtyard of sorts, where the pavilions were open to the air and backdropped by the perfectly cut ivy crawling it’s way up the trellis. The warm air and the music was welcome but also stifling in a sense. Incense burned not too far away, cloying with the scent of cooking food in the worst possible way. Willow saw that every star was in its perfect place, the constellations playing at perfection to please their Emperor. Another laugh from nearby caught her ear over the dancing horses. She turned and saw a few attendants huddled in a whisper, pointedly looking between other guests at the banquet. Seems their is rumor scheming going about. How dull.

I bet none of them have witnessed the beauty of a star shower from earth.

She hid it well however, her scorn. Willow couldn’t understand how anyone would choose Heaven over the ever changing earth below. None of these thoughts made themselves visible on her face however. Schooled and taught, bred to peaceful serenity, Willow let nothing ripple the calm of her outward appearance. As cool as a northern star, as serene as a flower in a vase.

Captive peace was hardly true peace. It was stagnation. It was the loss of what made the peace worthwhile. Willow had experienced that feeling: of tumbling in the grass, the heat of the fire as a lightning strike burned a forest down, of the sea and its salty spray in a storm. Willow had felt the movement of a world and it had caught her and held her constantly in its motion.

She took a sip of wine to hide her mouth as it began to slip into a frown. The wine may be of the best quality, brewed by the greatest hands and purified in the finest crystal, but it would never compare to the joy of the toasts her earthen family held in their patch of paradise. Of how when Ba got into his cups he would challenge his sister Ma to a duel of jokes and japes. The music made by Sweet, a kind little monkey, was a better tune and full of more life then Gold Chimes Softly well placed and organized orchestra. Sweet could play a jaunty tune upon their flute, while the rest of his little musician group followed along. They could whip the troupe into a frenzy of dancing and table jumping. Willow had danced before, controlled and reserved like the Mares in their bells and ribbons. But dancing within her husband's court had been an experience she never would have imagined missing. The dancing wildness and stamping feet, the spinning from partner to small partner, the joy that filled the air and the laughter. It had been better than star wine - it had been an intoxication that had left her heart drumming and face smiling wide.

The horses finished their beautiful dance and the court clapped. Willow clapped too. The mares did wonderfully. It was not their fault that the dance felt too restrained, too controlled.

Her father was happy to have her home. Willow could tell by the very evident glances down to his daughters from his seat at the head of the table. He had all of his family arrayed about him, basking. Willow made polite conversation that only scraped surface level with her sisters and the passing women who came to visit her seat. Willow complemented the lady’s jewels and colored gowns. To the men she disarmed a hundred pointed comments that were trying to dig beneath and get to the root of what would be tender and delectable tea to spill in court.

That great sage- he drinks with a gusto! Is it always this way?

Translation - is he a drunk ?

My what clothes. Such a unique style it must have been picked up in his travels!

Translation: He dresses like a Savage. Is He a Savage to you?

Willow had almost slapped another adviser who had pointedly remarked on the lack of children they had and questioned Wukongs ability to perform.

Her sisters, oh her clever sisters, had rallied to her defense in the most courtly way they could: they turned him into a piece of gossip to throw back to court.

“Did you hear?” Wind Over Sea stage whispered to Autumn Leaves Falling.

“Oh do tell!” Autumn Leaves Falling flashed her most wonderous smile, catching the Advisor in her trap.

“Seems that Moon Shadowed Clouds husband has been kicked out of their bedroom!” Wind replied, making direct eye contact with the Advisor.

“How terribly pitiful!” Weaves the Clouds remarked from her cushion beside the other sisters. The Jade Emperor watched from above, keeping himself out of the gossip.

“Wasn’t he caught drinking down in one of the mortal brothels ?” Autumn added, her eyes slashing toward the advisor.

“I heard it was on his Wife’s birthday to boot!” Winter Frosted Grace sniffed, setting her cup of tea down.

Her sisters turned in unison to stare down the Advisor with such cat like intensity.

“For shame!” Little Weaver Girl, the youngest of the brood of women, said loud enough for the court to hear. Little could get away with being louder than the rest- she was adored by their father and was the master weaver of heaven. Her creations had been sought after by all the courts when their father had worn one of her robes that Little had made. “Trying to twist your bad fortune onto my sister.”

The advisor, of course, made a swift exit with red ears and wounded pride.

Willow was thankful for her sisters. They alone understood that Willow, for whatever reason, had found comfort with Wukong and was truly happy. They didn’t see why she wished to remain down among the earthly mortals. Her happiness was what they valued and, like a streak of tigers, would defend with witty claws and well disguised barbs any that fancied a go at making court gossip from the Emperors family.

Willow wished for the upteenth time that she could bring the lot of them to their mountain. To see what she saw. She knew deep down that none of them would really understand. Except for Little. Her youngest sister often snuck from the court to watch the common people live their lives and to see the other mortal weavers of the world. Little would love their mountain. She began to think of Flower Fruit Mountain as theirs - her and Wukongs. It Held so many memories- so many joys and sorrows.

Where was Wukong?

Willow was surprised he had been absent so long. Wukong was still a bit unaccustomed to the Celestial workings of the court and it’s people. Even after attaining buddhahood and becoming an enlightened master, Willow knew that the gossip surrounding them would never die out. It was tiresome to interact with people who still brought things up from almost centuries ago.

She cast her gaze about for him and saw a flash of his red fur—

And his teeth.

Willows stomach fell, like a falcon folding her wings for a dive. Straight to the bottom of her soul

Wukong was surrounded by a swath of richly dressed courtiers, lords and men of the Palace. They kept a respectful courtly distance but Willow knew it was too close. Her dear friend was giving all the warnings she had learned over the centuries together to read. His eyebrows had been raised at the beginning of her watching but now they lowered, the teeth on full display. A smile of aggression. A smile that said ‘I take offense’. He felt accosted and would soon act upon it. For all the calm that had been taught, her husband could not forget that he was a creature that had to fight for so long.

Oh these utter fools, Willow thought. They still don’t know when to leave him well enough alone.

It would be their fault for not understanding Wukongs simple and very obvious attempts to walk past and around them. But another man would join, asking to hear of his teachings from the Buddha himself, and his eyes would make direct contact with theirs and the teeth would shine all the sharper. That wasn’t a smile. That was a promise of violence.

Willow knew if Wukong reacted it would only cement the court's opinion of Wild Beast they saw. Willow had to act fast before the feast turned from one of peace to one of violence. So Willow, setting her goblet down whispered to her nearest sister, Winter.

“Catch me.”

“Beg pardon?”

And then Willow, with the grace of all her years of acting and tricking the witless fools of Heaven, swooned and fainted. Winter caught her, crying out in more surprise than worry.

Willow made sure she brought her hand up dramatically to her face, the sleeve covering her mouth. Her elbow she had knock into the tray that held food and Willow was rewarded with the loudest clatter of porcelain cracking onto the floor beneath them. The goblet she had placed was sent flying to spill into the rug beneath their cushioned seats.

Sorry father. I know you wanted a peaceful night with us all.

Her dramatics had the desired effect: the court all took in a sudden breath and some gasped. She heard her father call to her and the worry in his voice made Willow's heart beat with a bit of guilt.

“Sister?” She felt hands shake her shoulders in worry and looked up beneath lashes into Winters frosty face.

“Play along, so that way the court doesn’t catch on.” Willow whispered and her hand subtly pointed to where Wukong had been- and where he was running up to her.

“Willow!” He sounded so worried it made her heart give another guilty squeeze. His hands had grown in size, meaning he had made himself larger than regular. “Are you alright my love?”

Willow looked just beneath her arm as she brought it up higher in a mock groan. But he was close enough to hear her now.

“Let’s go home.” Willow could see the stress lines on his face, the anger that had been there cooling like coals in a fire.

“Seems my sister fainted.” Bless her, Little was close enough to see that a game was afoot. And she always approved of games. “It’s been so long since she was at the Palace after all. The scents may have overwhelmed her.”

Wukong looked down just long enough to see Willow give a wink. Some of the tension leaked from him and she could feel it leave his hands. His fast mind seized onto this statement (now that he was given a signal that this was a ruse) and elaborated upon the story.

“My wife was worried about tonight. The winds over our mountain have been so clean and clear while Heavens incense must have overwhelmed her delicate nose.” Wukongs arms took her up, face close to hers.

“How did you know?” He mumbled into her hair. He didn’t ask her if she knew what. Wukong understood that she was doing this for him in some way. It was the intuition of being with each other for so long.

“Saw those courtiers - the fools.” She barely moved her lips to speak and was glad to have her sleeve covering her face. She couldn’t help the smile as he blew air into her ear, tickling her.

“You are a Heaven send.” He said to her then addressed the court.

“Seems my wife needs to clear her head. We will head home on the leave of my Father-in-Law the Jade Emperor.”

“You may go, Sun Wukong. Let me - let me know how she fares will you?” The worry that made the end of his voice tremble at the end had Willow feel just a bit more guilt.

Sorry Father.

Willow felt Wukong bow his head and then they were away, faster than a falling star on a path back to earth. Once past the Celestial guards Wukong tapped her shoulder with a claw and Willow dropped her act and sighed.

“Thank small mercies.” She sighed, gazing out at the fast approaching world below.

“Mercies exist but they are not small.” Wukong said. “I’m holding one in my arms.”

“You flatterer.” She laughed at the sappy look he gave her and she pressed his nose with a delicate finger. “Come, tell me true- what we’re those vipers cornering you about?”

“Seems they were beginning to question my … ability to … well …” Wukong was looking everywhere but her, the wind blowing across his fur. It couldn’t hide the blush turning his face and ears into a tomato.

It only took a second for Willow to understand- and she turned in his arms to glare back into the sky. “I will flay that Advisor!”

“Advisor?”

“Yes. The little shrew of a man must have set the rumour to running before he approached me himself.” The coward. She was glad her sisters had known enough gossip to spin his dilemma into a full show for the court. Willow touched Wukongs cheek, worried. “Tell me what happened.”

“They started asking about my ascension in Buddhism and asked about my teachings. Then they started … well. In on the questions of you and me and our… intimacies.” He was so uncomfortable that he was rubbing at his forehead, claws leaving little red marks on his exposed skin. “It started making me uncomfortable and I couldn’t see or get a clear path to return to you.” Wukong sighed. “I’m sorry Willow.”

“Sorry? You have nothing to apologize for! That man had come up to me and my sisters to dig at us for information as well.” Willow chuckled, remembering how Little, Winter, Cloud and Autumn had perfectly embarrassed the man. “Of course you know the sort my sisters are- even if they don’t quite approve of me living on earth they won’t stand for such pointed questions.”

“You were asked about children as well?”

“Yes and I was about to slap him.” This made Wukong laugh. They sped past a cloud front, promising heavy rain. The mountain was coming into sight now within a sea of jet black turned silver by the moon.

“I would have paid good money to see it. The second slap heard in all of Heaven!” Wukong chortled. Then he sobered. “I’m sorry again.”

“Stop Wukong.” Willow caught his face and pressed a kiss to his temple. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

And then her stomach gave a tremendous growl, like the traitor it was. It took the wind from her words and flamed Wukongs look of timid regret.

“I pulled you away from the feast before you could even get a bite in.”

“We have all the food back at home.” Willow countered. Cursed stomach. As the Mountain got closer and the silence stretched a bit longer Willow looked back at her friend. His face was concentrated in thought that was slowly beginning to brighten to delight.

“Wukong, I know that face. What are you thinking ?”

He was silent, trying to make his face neutral again. And failing miserably. Once they had stepped down and onto solid ground, Wukong set Willow down and returned to his original size.

“Wukong…” Willow tried again, but was interrupted as the two sentries that night, Ma and Ba, came bounding forward, weapons drawn. When they saw it was Wukong and Willow they relaxed and called greetings.

“My King? You Return so soon!” Ma said.

“Was the feast good?” Ba asked, his broken tail giving an agitated flick.

Wukongs face was fully alight with a genuine smile as he looked at Willow then back at his family.

“The feast was a drab thing of mediocre blathering. We will outdo them here!” The Monkey King walked forward, taking Willows hand gently. She followed, knowing that she was about to get her answer to what Wukong was about to do

“Ma! Ba! Call the troupe- fire up the ovens. Set Water Curtain Cave in its best ! We will have our own feast that will rival Heavens!”

“Yes my king!” The two answered in unison then sped off, whooping and calling and waking all of the mountain for a feast. Ma grabbed at her brothers ear and yanked, getting ahead of him. Ba snarled in mock aggression, swinging his leg to knock Mas out from under her. The two had turned it into a race and it didn’t seem that either would make it out without a few bruises along the way.

“They seem eager for it.” Wukong laughed. He led Willow into their home as the lanterns were turned from their sleepy glow to a bright blaze.

“Wukong …”

“What?”

“Why a feast? I don’t need a feast — I would be satisfied with a simple fruit tart and some water.” Willow felt a bit guilty as she saw sleeping mothers poke their heads from the stone homes and peer out at the ever growing and excited crowd calling for feasting. She saw the kitchen fires light up like a twinkling row of stars coming to life.

“Nonsense!” Wukong assured, pulling her along. “ Why should Heaven have fun and we not have any? Besides I have to find a way to thank you for saving my pride while you lost a bit of your own.”

Was that what this was about ?!

“Oh Wukong it’s fine! Women are expected to faint and fall over themselves with the silliest things.” Her sisters had fainted countless times. Mostly to attract the eye of a gentleman or women they thought was beautiful or fancied. Willow had seen Autumn take the most spectacular swoon, right into the arms of one of the generals! Maybe theatrics ran in the family. Wukong simply shook his head. The idea had him now, the excitment of competing with Heaven growing brighter in his eyes.

“I won’t hear of it.” Wukong declared. Willow forgot how competitive her friend could be. But he also was hiding something else he wanted to do. She could read it like a book.

“You are planning something else are you not? Don’t lie, I can see it on your face plain as day!” She teased him, his mirth infectious. The whole cavern was now alive with the news- droves of the family were coming out now gathering in the banquet hall with foodstuffs to share and enjoy in. Wine was being brought up from the deeper colder caves and already the air smelled intoxicating as the cooks set to work.

It was Wukongs turn to wink at Willow now as he left her at her room door, smiling softly. “You will see~”

[daily-lightbulbii]

(//i don't normally do text but cw in the tags erm. i went a little off track)