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banannabethchase · 10 months

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"You're going to wish you didn't do that." "Oh, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be glad I did." Eddie/Danny (bonus points for making this as filthy as you've ever made anything)

Dig Your Claws into My Heart - also on AO3

Danny and Sammy win their tag match, but Eddie wasn't there to watch it. Or so Danny thinks.

Oh boy finding this ask was like pulling teeth. But hah! The ask is found, the fic is done, and my brain is soup. Title from Claws by Kim Petras.

Danny is bored.

“Stop fidgeting,” Anna says, shoving him. “You keep getting in my space.”

“You could move,” he snaps back at her. “There’s so much space in this locker room.”

“Oh, I could move?” she asks. She shoves him harder, and he’s only slightly surprised when he slides a foot across the bench and almost falls over. “I was here first, and you’re being all bitchy because you’re bored or something.”

Danny stands up. “Alright, your majesty.”

“Hey!” Anna says, kicking at his shins as Danny dances around her feet. “I slay the majesties.”

“And that outfit, by the way,” Danny says. “That dark pink is a good color on you.”

Anna frowns, then blinks. “Um. Thanks. Somehow.” She calms immediately, replaced by confusion. “Now leave me alone. I need to gear up so I can go annoy Skye later.”

Danny rolls his eyes. “Or, you know, you could ask her out.”

Anna turns bright red, and Danny laughs as he practically skips away. He slides into a quiet corner, and facetimes Eddie once he’s sure he’s alone.

“Hey, pretty baby, what’s up?” Eddie asks. “Aw, shit, your face is all pinched. What’s the deal?”

“It’s not pinched!” Danny says, checking himself in the camera. He can’t figure out what Eddie’s seeing. “Where are you? It’s super dark.”

Eddie chuckles. “I’ll tell you later. How was your match?”

“Amazing,” Danny says. He recounts the entire match, buzzing with the way Eddie smiles and nods and asks questions in the right places. “But you shouldn’t need to ask me,” Danny says. “You should have been here.”

“It’s not all about you.” Eddie’s eyes are stern.

“It should be.”

Eddie scoffs. “You keep that attitude up. See what happens.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re in New York, and then you’re in Japan, so you can’t do shit.” Danny folds his arms and sinks lower against the wall. “Maybe since you’re gone I’ll take Jericho up on his offer.”

Eddie laughs darkly, eyes harboring a dangerous sparkle, and it sends a spark up through Danny’s spine. “You’re gonna wish you didn’t do that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be glad I did,” Danny fires back. “You’re hundreds of miles away.” He pauses. “Thousands? How far is Yonkers from Saskatoon?”

Eddie’s grin feels predatory, like Danny’s staring down the gaze of a shark. “Not sure,” he says. “How far is your hotel room from the venue?”

“Close,” Danny says. “I’m heading there now.” He pauses. “Why?”

Eddie sighs. “No reason. I’ll see you soon, pretty boy.” He blows a kiss. “Don’t get too bitchy without me.”

“No promises,” Danny replies, and he hangs up.

He does feel a little abandoned, maybe, that Eddie didn’t come to see his match tonight. They won and are going to the finals, but Eddie will be in Japan at that point. He’ll probably be too tired to even watch from an ocean away.

They’ll be apart for over a month, and Eddie couldn’t even be here for Danny’s last match before he leaves. Danny’s mood sours again so fast he can’t even keep up and he stomps back to the locker room.

“Who pissed in your Red Bull?” Daddy Magic asks, smacking his gum.

“I’m gonna need you to leave me alone right now,” Danny grumbles.

“Ooh, sorry,” Daddy Magic says. “I’m only your father, trying to help. You know I’m Daddy Magic because of you, right? I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t to take care of–”

Danny doesn’t hear the end of the sentence, because he’s turned on the shower.

He pouts as he packs, he stomps as he walks to the Lyft, and he glowers as the Lyft driver tries to make conversation. It doesn’t help, just makes him feel even more pathetic.

He gives the driver five stars and a forty percent tip for dealing with his attitude, and pairs the stomp back to his room with an even more powerful glare at no one in particular. He should have realized, as he swipes the key card to the door and drops his stuff, that the boots in the hallway didn’t belong to him.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” comes a low voice. A shiver slides down Danny’s spine. “Still in a bad mood?”

Danny’s torn – on one hand, he wants to leap into Eddie’s arms and curl up with him all night. On the other, he really is pissed that Eddie didn’t bring his ass to watch his match. “Yes,” Danny snaps. He leans against the wall, making it clear that he refuses to cross the room first.

“Any reason?”

Danny stares at him. “You – you’re that stupid?”

“Hey, watch it.”

“No!” Danny yells. “You said you weren’t gonna be here, for my last big match before you went to Japan, then you show up in my hotel room once it’s too late like it’s supposed to be all fine?!” He shakes his head. “Fuck that.” He wants to add and fuck you, but he can’t. He bites his lip. “It’s not fair.”

Eddie stands and walks toward Danny. He feels like a skittish puppy, with the way Eddie’s looking at him. Like he expects Danny to bolt. Maybe he should. “Danny,” Eddie says, and his gentle voice is enough to make Danny lift his head to meet Eddie’s eyes. “I’ve been here since 6pm tonight.”

“And you still didn’t make my match?!”

“Jesus – no, you fucking – Danny, I was there!” Eddie’s laughing, but Danny can’t decide if it’s kind or not. “I went to your match, I cheered you on. Hell, I even met with a reporter to gush about how much I’m looking forward to you leaving those fuckin’ JAS freaks so you can move on to your own thing.” He reaches out and grabs Danny by the waist, yanking him in. “Don’t you dare think I’m not here for you.”

Danny bites the inside of his cheek. “Why didn’t you come find me?” he asks, embarrassed at his own voice.

“I did,” Eddie says. “Hey, look at me.” Danny does, snapping back to Eddie’s eyes. He was trying to avoid this – he always gets so goddamned lost. “I tried to find you, but they didn’t want me bothering you or Mox.” He scoffs. “I think they were worried I was going to try and fuck up Claudio.”

Danny fidgets. “So you were there.”

“Of course I was there,” Eddie murmurs, sliding his hand up to cup Danny’s cheek. “And you had the balls to doubt me.” He pulls Danny in closer, so all Danny can breathe, see, smell is Eddie. “You’re such a goddamned dumbass sometimes, pretty boy.”

Danny tilts his head up to catch Eddie’s lips, and they kiss so sweetly for so long he feels like he’s in someone else’s life.

Eddie pulls back and Danny tries to chase his lips. “Hold on, baby, don’t get too excited.”

Danny deflates. “You have to go.” He takes a step back, nodding. “Yeah, I get that. Bye.”

“No – for the love of fuckin’ god, Danny.” Eddie takes off his hat and adjusts it, fidgeting. “Why are you always expecting me to leave?”

Danny shrugs.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Eddie says. He grabs Danny’s shoulders and turns him so he’s looking at himself in the mirror hung by the bed. He can’t pull his eyes away from Eddie’s in the reflection. “Why are you always so ready for me to leave?”

Danny tries to look away, but Eddie tilts his head with his fingertips, and Danny doesn’t know how to refuse. “Because everybody does.”

Eddie sighs. “Do I look like everybody, baby?”

Danny shrugs again, and he’s pretty sure his shoulders will get stuck there.

Eddie sighs. “How do I help?” he asks. “This – I don’t know what this is, but I can tell it’s a problem.”

“It’s not a problem,” Danny replies. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

Thus begins the longest two hours of his life. Eddie psychoanalyzes every detail of Danny’s life without Danny having to say much at all. He knows Eddie’s a talker, but he never expected this approach from a man so entrenched in grudges from 2005 he’s still fighting his best friends.

“Look, kid, we all got abandonment issues, but you can’t take it out on everyone else. That’s how you end up like me.”

“Jesus, on your birthday? No wonder you have such a complex on big days.”

“If you ever call yourself ‘worthless’ again, I’m gonna feed you to Archer or something.”

Eddie finally stops talking, which Danny was beginning to think he wasn’t capable of, around 1:30 in the morning. Danny’s wrapped around him like an octopus, limbs linked with limbs.

“You asleep?”

“No,” Danny replies, snuggling into Eddie’s chest. “Just trying to recover from the 2 hours of therapy I was just subjected to.”

“It was talking,” Eddie says, a little laugh at the back of his words. “God, you’re weird.”

“You cried on a belt a few weeks back,” Danny replies. He yawns. “Which one of us is weird now?”

Eddie kisses his forehead. “Go to sleep, pretty boy.”

“Don’t wanna,” Danny mumbles. “You’re gonna be gone. Should stay up with you.”

“Go to sleep,” Eddie repeats, a little more firmly this time. “I’ll have my way with you in the morning.”

Danny’s giggle is drowsy, half lost to dreams. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Danny wakes up cozy warm, surrounded by Eddie. He snuggles back against him, and he’s very suddenly met with something long and hard against his ass.

He grins as his eyes open. He laces his fingers with Eddie’s on his stomach, then slowly twists his hips. Eddie makes a pleased noise, and pulls Danny closer. Danny circles his hips slowly, then pulls Eddie’s hand up to pull a finger into his mouth. If this doesn’t wake Eddie up, nothing will.

Eddie lets out a fascinating little moan, something Danny’s never heard from him. Danny grins.

“Morning,” he mumbles. “Waking up okay?” He twists again, and Eddie makes another sound.

“You’re gonna wish you hadn’t done that,” Eddie growls, hand splayed across Danny’s stomach.

“You said that yesterday, and now look where I am.” Danny grinds his ass back on Eddie’s dick, suddenly so desperate and so turned on he can barely see straight. “So I’m pretty sure I’ll be glad I did.”

Eddie rolls them over and presses Danny’s body to the bed. The weight presses Danny’s dick into the mattress, and it’s just enough to tease but nothing enough to mean anything. “Yeah?” Eddie breathes into Danny’s ear. “I could wreck you right here, right now, and you’d probably thank me for it, wouldn’t you.”

“Nah,” Danny gasps as Eddie grabs a handful of his ass. “You’ll be thanking me.”

Eddie’s laugh is cruel and beautiful as he lifts himself off of Danny. “You fuckin’ brat. There’s my boy.”

Danny shivers at the combination of insult and praise. He shifts, ass wiggling up in the air. “Don’t be all talk, Eddie,” Danny says. He tosses a pout over his shoulder at Eddie, who’s already pulling off the clothes he wore to bed.

“All talk,” Eddie scoffs. He reaches out and grabs Danny’s hips. “You have lube, right?”

“Of course I do! What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?” Danny says it without thinking about it. “I mean…” Danny turns around to see a wolfish grin on Eddie’s lips.

“Boyfriend?” he asks. “I mean, I’m a little old to be going with that term, but I’ll call you mine if you want.” He aims a quick swat at Danny’s ass. Danny’s pretty sure his muscles almost fall apart. Eddie runs his hand down Danny’s spine to hand on the back of his neck. “You wanna be mine?”

“Yes,” Danny gasps. “And if you don’t fuck me right now I might die.”

Eddie slides his hand back up Danny’s back to grab a handful of his ass and squeeze. All Danny can do is pray Eddie gets in him soon, because, after last night, every second is feeling like a decade. “I’ll be right back, pretty boy.” Danny feels Eddie’s lips at the base of his spine. “Don’t freak out on me.”

“I’m not gonna freak out.”

Danny meets Eddie’s eyes as he bends over and pulls the lube out of Danny’s backpack. “Really? What was last night then?”

“Last night was you being weird,” Danny replies. “Are you going to just leave me here or are you gonna do something about it?” He wiggles his ass.

Eddie shakes his head and smiles. “You keep taunting me. I need you to know that’s a bad idea.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, then,” Danny replies.

Eddie’s expression changes, and Danny’s dick somehow gets harder. “Yeah? Alright then.” He stands, lube in hand, and walks behind Danny again. It’s all he can do to not look around, to not ruin the surprise.

Danny gasps as he feels Eddie’s tongue slide against the cleft of his ass. “Oh, god.”

“Good?”

“Yes, fuck,” Danny says, trying to wiggle his hips back. Eddie holds him in place, though, sending a thrill up and down Danny’s spine he didn’t expect. “Don’t stop. Please.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Eddie chuckles. He spreads Danny open and dives his tongue in, and Danny exhales so completely he slides, face down, onto the bed.

“Oh, god,” he says into the comforter. He fists the comforter in his hands, desperate for more. He turns his head. “Eddie, fuck.”

“Good?” Eddie asks.

Danny nods, then remembers Eddie can’t see his face. “So good.” He falls into the sensation of Eddie’s tongue, of the shaking in his thighs, of Eddie’s fingers digging into his ass. He hopes for bruises, for marks, for Eddie to leave him so desperate and aching Danny rides him hard enough he can’t walk the next day. Eddie doesn’t hesitate, and isn’t cute about the way he eats Danny out, tongue diving in and dripping spit everywhere.

Eddie pulls away and Danny almost sobs with the loss. “No,” he half whimpers, “wait, no. Come back.”

“I’ll be back, baby, don’t worry.”

There’s the click of the cap and then the slick sounds of lube. “Oh, thank god.”

Eddie laughs. “I’m no god, pretty boy. But I’ll do my best.”

Danny feels less antsy once Eddie slides the first two fingers in, smooth and thick but not thick enough. He whines a little at the sensation. He’s never gone from nothing to two before, and it sets off a weird feeling of accomplishment.

“Look at you,” Eddie sighs. “Taking two right off the bat? That’s impressive.”

Danny can’t fight the smile on his face. “Thanks.”

“You look good when you shut up,” Eddie continues. He twists his fingers and Danny’s thighs shake. “I could keep you like this for hours, you know. Give you just enough to feel it, not even to get anywhere.” He shifts so he’s at Danny’s ear. “You’d know I was here, the whole time. But you wouldn’t come.”

Danny whines and pushes back against the fingers. “I could deal with that,” he lies, eyes rolling back in his head as Eddie’s fingers brush his prostate. “Long as you don’t leave.”

Eddie stills. “Shit, you mean that, don’t you.”

Danny freezes.

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie says, and his tone is completely different. “Danny, I’m not going anywhere.” He presses his lips to Danny’s back. “I swear. I ain’t leavin’.”

“Okay.” Danny’s voice is tiny, barely more than a whisper.

“Say you know,” Eddie says. “Danny. Say you know I’m never leaving.”

“You’re never leaving,” Danny answers, and tears prick the corners of his eyes. He shoves his face back into the comforter, unsure of when this became who he is. “You’re staying with me.”

“I’m staying with you,” Eddie says, and it feels like a promise.

There’s silence and stillness for longer than Danny wants. “Don’t stop,” Danny says. “I – I need you to fuck me, okay?”

“You don’t gotta ask me twice,” Eddie chuckles. “Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” Danny says. “I’ll be better once your dick’s in me though.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “Well, fuck. I guess I gotta take care of my pretty boy, huh.”

Danny manages to lift himself on shaky arms to look over his shoulder. Eddie’s gaze is soft and sweet, something Danny’s never seen from him before. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi,” Danny says. He almost tempted to look away.

Eddie scissors his fingers a little more, taking Danny down to his elbows again. Danny pants and gasps as Eddie slides in a third.

“Want you,” Danny demands through rough inhales. “Please, I’m ready.”

“Tell me again,” Eddie says. “What do you want?”

“You,” Danny whines. “Please, I – I need your cock, please.”

“That’s my pretty boy.”

Danny’s elbows give out as Eddie slides into him slowly. He lets out a drawn out, unending moan as Eddie bottoms out, shifting his hips to get used to it. “Oh, fuck, finally. Took you long enough.”

“Hey, there you are,” Eddie chuckles. “My bitchy boyfriend.”

A sensation of heat floods through Danny at that. He’s Eddie’s, he’s Eddie’s boyfriend. And Eddie promised to never leave. It’s more than he’s gotten from anyone before, even if it’s not real. “Yours,” Danny mumbles, and he gives in to the moment.

Eddie’s hands are even more soothing than his voice, sliding up and down Danny’s body as Eddie fucks him deep. On his hips, his back, his chest, his cock. Eddie surrounds him, and Danny’s never felt more known.

The fifth or sixth time Eddie’s hand slides around his cock, Danny moans. “Fuck, I’m close. Already, I’m close.” He doesn’t want it to be over.

“You can come, baby, we’ll do it all over again when I come back.” Eddie starts stroking him. “Yeah? I’ll call you every night like we’re in high school, talk you through opening yourself up on your fingers so you can pretend it’s me.”

Danny whines, fucking back against Eddie’s cock and forward into his fist. “Please,” he gasps. “Please, Eddie, I want to – I want to –” Words escape him as Eddie’s hand and body speed up.

“Yeah, do it,” Eddie says. “Come all over me, baby, show me how much you love this.”

Danny’s entire body tenses and comes harder than he has in his life. Each thrust from Eddie somehow matches the aftershocks, his mind somewhere in oblivion. He thinks, dazed, that he’d fall over if it weren’t for Eddie’s firm grip around his waist.

“Goddamned perfect,” Eddie growls, and then Danny feels Eddie come deep inside him. They still and freeze against each other. Danny thinks Eddie’s rested his head between his shoulder blades. He thinks he feels kisses there. He hopes he’s right. “You okay, baby?”

“Great,” Danny mumbles. “That’s just what I needed.”

Eddie slowly slides out of him and then rolls Danny over. “Hey there, pretty boy,” he says, studying Danny’s face. Danny’s mesmerized. “I’ll be right back, okay? Just need to make sure you don’t fall asleep all sticky.”

Danny sits up slowly. “Give me a second and maybe – maybe we could shower together?” The post sex haze has cleared away any of his insecurities, allowing him to ask for things he’d refused to admit he wanted.

Eddie’s smile turns soft again. “Of course. Come on.”

Danny’s dazed contentment lasts the whole shower, and, in the back of his mind, he remembers there are two flights today and Eddie doesn’t join him on either.

“Alright, what did you just start freaking out about?” Eddie fixes his eyebrows in the mirror. Danny feels strangely like he’s watching a home video. Like this is something he’s not supposed to see. “I can feel you having a moment from over here.”

Danny shrugs. “We both fly home tonight. But…not together.” He looks over at Eddie. “You’re going to Japan.”

Eddie pulls him in, a kiss to Danny’s forehead. “And I’ll think of you every goddamned second, okay?” He holds Danny close, and Danny breathes him in. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Danny tries to memorize the moment, something to hold onto while Eddie’s gone. “I know. But I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, pretty boy.” He presses his lips to Danny’s forehead. It feels like less of a kiss and more of a claim. “But I’ll come right back to you.”

Danny nods, and lives the moment as long as it will last.

Mini Playlist: I Like It Rough - Lady Gaga Claws - Kim Petras Keep Riding Me - ur pretty Sanctified - The Veronicas

#EddieDanny #HELLO THIS IS SARAH'S FAULT #sarahcakes613 #wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes

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blorbologist · 1 year

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26 and 37

26. You must swap one nat 1 die roll with one nat 20 die roll. They must both be from the main campaigns, but can be cross-campaign. Which are they, and why?

Ooooof, how dare you make me have to do research for this? :vvv

See, I'm torn between making them both of similar magnitude or pulling a cheap shot and taking a nat 20 that didn't matter much to swap for a nat 1 that did matter.

Okay, let's take two important ones and make them both WORSE, because I'm a bastard

For the 1 -> 20, hmmm let's say Caleb trying to persuade Essek to pretty please let him invite mages that want to kill them both onto this expedition. Gives Liam his bisexual maelstrom early, and it would so badly fuck with their dynamics. Would Caleb backshift into bad coping mechanisms? Would Essek call him out? Would Trent or Astrid or Wulf try to kill either of them? What the fuck! Just about one of the few times I think a high roll would actually be worse for everyone involved. Another that came to mind was Kaylie's initial confrontation with Scanlan. (A good one to turn into a 20 would be the Sunken Tomb 'Sam immediately jokes it's instant death and SIKE IT IS', because it would change SO MUCH of the campaign.)

For the 20 -> 1 :) well since you got me in an angsty mood :) True Love's Nat 20 made into True Love's Nat 1. Even if the roll had succeeded over-all thanks to the other contributions, I can't see Percy coming back if he didn't hear Vex specifically. We'd have Molly in Campaign 1. Vex might do something reckless and Briarwoods-esque to bring him back (winks loudly at Nova). Completely derail everything. (Of course, there's any number of villain Nat 20s turning into Nat 1s would likely be huge net positives, but I don't feel like researching any more than I already have :V)

37. You have to take a 16 hour road trip with one NPC from each campaign (all at once, ie, three other people). The NPCs cannot shorten the road trip in any way and the road trip must be via driving but you can do it in two 8 hour days and share a motel room if you'd like. Who do you pick?

... I read this as PC at first FUCK ME. Including the two I'd written for PCs + why I didnt pick my fav under the cut as a lil bonus.

a) Essek. Okay, hear me out: yes he is a war criminal, but he's also dealt with trying to get grant money and as someone procrastinating on two deadlines rn? mood. I'd poke his brain for hours about blasphemous magic if I could. Also, soup is cheap for when we're done for the day and an easy meal. I think he'd either be a perfectionist backseat driver or a panicky one and either way the research talk is worth it to me ok. I'll survive.

b) Vesper - never said specials were excluded, and she IS in her 30s by this point in the timeline! We have no clue about her personality, but I think, given her family, she's likely very smart and good conversation. Has money to throw at any problems we run into. Also allows me to get De Blorbo lore without wanting to throttle her dad. If she doesn't count because she's a Baby in the oneshot she's in, I guess Cass? Look I adore her but I worry she's never driven a day in her life + trauma + is a noble would make her a pain in the ass to be stuck in a car with, BUT I love her enough I'd take it in stride For Her.

c) Imahara Joe. Look! He's a vibe! If anything goes wrong he can fix it! He can keep conversation going! I have huge Mythbusters nostalgia!

a) Caleb! I think we could talk about our respective cats for hours, or I'd hope we could, and talk magic-science, and Keen Mind would make keeping rest stops/the time/maps/etc. in mind a breeze. And if he isn't up to talk he would just! be quiet! and read a book! which is good for my stress brain! And if both of us are overstimmed that's a 50% vote on getting people to turn the music fucking down so we can relax.

b) Fjord, actually? He's captn' Tusktooth, he knows how to organize a voyage and what goes into sharing cramped quarters with other people for hours on end and how to keep distracted and not kill eachother. Plus, Star Razor is a convenient flashlight if ever. His music selection would also likely be fun to sing as a whole car together - shanties or good roadtrip songs.

c) oufff this one's hard.

(I'm Not saying Percy because so help me I'd want to throttle him within the hour. Beau would bully me I think. Both are also so hot and my favs I think I'd die and be incapable of driving. Laudna would also make Noises with her Existing and I think I'd lose my marbles, sorry babe :c)

#ask game #campaign 1 #campaign 2 #critical role

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beneathascorpionsky · 11 months

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OC Questions:

5. If you could make only one of your OCs popular/known, who would it be?

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)

28. Your most dangerous OC?

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really)

33. Your shyest OC?

41. Has anyone drawn fanart of your OCs? If yes, maybe show a picture or two here (remember sources & permissions!)

43. Do you have any certain type when you create your OCs? Do you tend to favour some certain traits or looks? It’s time to confess

Have fun :D (also this tab has been sitting open for a hot minute and I forgot to send it, crow brain at minimum power)

5. oh that's. really tough one. Probably a tie between Shyshie and Kwet with maybe Lily and Serpens tied for second place. Shyshie just has such an energy, but Kwet is so personal. For a long time Lily was a top favorite and I feel like she represents a very richly creative time of my life. and Serpens just feels like. He deserves to be well known for some reason.

19. Nickaia. I don't talk about her a lot but she was a very early oc, who was just a borderline Lego Ninjago self insert, who turned into an actual oc in an original story and she really represented a lot of my fears about growing up and puberty especially, i came up with this whole story about some illness she caught that turned her skin gray and prevented her from developing (physically at least) into an adult. Then for a long time I forgot about her, then a few years ago remembered she existed and kinda overhauled her into an alien cause I no longer had a story for her to fit into as a human. She and I have changed a lot and no longer really resemble each other any more, but she's still very dear to me.

28. Most dangerous oc

.... a lot of my ocs probably wouldn't be all that safe to hang out around. But at the same time I feel like a lot of them wouldn't be too awful unprovoked. On terms of just like sheer power, the Wyvern who is an antagonist, but not strictly a villain, in my fantasy story. She's an immortal dragon who enjoys meddling in the lives of mortal as relief from the intense boredom of living for thousands of years

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like lets see. I did shyshie for the last one, so lets do Kwet for this one. I feel like he'd had a photography blog that Aveth talked him into running so he would have a hobby aside from obsessively working on his scientific projects. The blog would be pretty bland and utilitarian and the pictures probably wouldn't be very interesting. He'd have 1 follower and it's just Aveth.

33. Your shyest OC?

uh well. Originally it was supposed to be Shyshie but she refused and turned into a feral child who is loud and causes all the problems. I'm not sure now. maybe Blue? he is a shy lil bby lizard who just wants to sit on his dad's shoulder and eat soup.

41.

uh well i mean maybe a few times I've gotten gift art from friends if that's what you mean. but most of the character art i have is either drawn by me, I ordered it, or got it from an art trade/artfight. And Im struggling to remember the last time I got gift art aside from a physical drawing a friend gave me years ago that I have but don't have pictures of right now. Actually now I'm not sure if i've ever gotten art just cause someone felt like it lol. So im gonna have to pass aha

43. oh yes! Lots! I love gold and silver duo characters s o much. I know like, red and blue is the most popular but I'm a s ucker for gold and silver/sun and moon esque characters. Also I love quiet stern emotionally reserved male characters who are like the analytical thoughtful type and usually trying to keep the rest of the character group from rushing into anything. Bonus points if they rarely emote aside from the small warm smile they spare for their friends during a time when the friend needs reassurance most.

also like. idk I call them 'unbreakable child' characters. Shyshie is the most easy one to point out but its just a kid character that is waAAAAY more op than they should be and no matter what they go through or what the villain throws at them they recover and keep going. (I think this is part of why I like Gregory from Security Breach so much lol, he totally fits the bill)

ty for the questions crow :D

#ask #ask game #ask game answer #writer's life

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professorspork · 3 years

Text

it’s the Kentucky Derby this weekend! I know exactly one thing (and one thing only) about horse racing: those animals get the most ridiculous names in the world.

there was obviously only one place my brain could go with this, so I now present to you:

The Potential of 2021 Kentucky Derby Horses as Names of RWBY Weapons, Ranked

Known Agenda

A strong contender! Kind of in the vein of Due Process; definitely evokes that distinctive RWBY feeling of being vague but menacing word salad. Perhaps some kind of pen that turns into a billy club? or a gun-gun 9/10

Like the King

ugh -5/10 no courage of your convictions. Don’t be like the king, be the king! This is your morningstar-cum-trebuchet-cum-beretta! be proud of it!

Brooklyn Strong

Perfectly good punchline to a stucky joke; meh name for a weapon in a world where Brooklyn is not a place 0/10

Keepmeinmind

edgy Huntsman Academy students who buy their weapons from Hot Topic name them things like this and then use them to asymmetrically cut and style their bangs 3/10

Sainthood

was going to say “sturdy but boring” and give a relatively high score because this is a very Mr. Teeth sort of title but then I thought what if it’s a butterfly knife disguised as a crucifix? Grimm don’t flee from holy symbols but I do want to give credit to the vibe so that goosed it over the top, 11/10

O Besos

Kisses! and Pyrrha’s weapons are Greek, so why not a Spanish title? a weapon named after a kiss feels very gay, and the O makes me think circle shape so yeah these are nesting chakrams for sure 8/10

(oh god there’s so many more of these, did you know there’s TWENTY HORSES in the Kentucky Derby? that feels like too many horses!!!)

Mandaloun

Now this is exactly the kind of shit we’re looking for. Much like Myrtenaster, I had to google this to know what the hell it is. A kind of window, apparently! love the inherent threat of defenestrating your enemies 15/10 especially if it’s a mandolin that’s also a mandolin

Medina Spirit

can truly only be the name of a horse (or maybe a fancy cigar brand, or a yacht); resists all attempts to apply it to a weapon. -10/10 but it doesn’t care because it’s free like the wind.

Hot Rod Charlie

Excellent name for a member in Junior’s dumb gang back in Vale (remember Junior?) but not a very good name for a weapon. Bonus point for evoking the idea of a transformer-esque weapon that’s also a vehicle, though! (*cough cough* Yang Rebuild Bumblebee And Do This Challenge) anyway 1/10

Midnight Bourbon

can’t believe Willow Schnee was actually a Huntress and never told her daughters! 4/10 bc it’s still a bad name for a rapier, try harder Willow

Dynamic One

gonna give this 6/10 for the psychological warfare of your enemy always waiting for the moment when you suddenly pull out Dynamic Two

Helium

...does the periodic table of elements exist on Remnant? this would be a hilarious name for a flamethrower seeing as helium is not flammable 2/10

Hidden Stash

ngl I love this name so much. so many options! sounds like a compact makeup case that turns into a cache of nukes or something. or what Sun and Neptune called their cop mustaches when solving crimes. 20/10

Essential Quality

you know how when you get a pet from a shelter they have a sad shelter name and you have to give them a new one with more personality? this is the kind of name that comes with store-bought Atlesian weapons 0/10

Rock Your World

almost certainly one of many names Yang considered for Ember Celica along the way, but not even she could pull it off -100/10

King Fury

Finally, a king that calls itself a king! the ONLY thing this could be is brass knuckles that spell K I N G F U R Y over the fingers and turn into spring-loaded katar blades and also revolvers. not sure why this isn’t on the show yet 50/10

Highly Motivated

this is the comment Weiss got next to every grade she ever received at Beacon, though the prized “pleasure to have in class” always eluded her. it gets the same score she always got in her late-for-a-test stress dreams: why-can’t-you-be-more-like-Winter/10

Super Stock

-3/10, sounds like a discount grocery store despite the fact that “stock” could evoke either the part of the gun or the restraining device. Better name options for a RWBY weapon that’s half gun stock and half stock-stock include Tacitus (2019 Third Place @ Kentucky Derby), Empire Maker (2003 Second Place), or Shackleford (2011 Fourth Place)

Soup and Sandwich

Perfect name, no notes, 10000000/10, dual-wield machetes and no explanation given if I had my druthers

Bourbonic

Sadly “Midnight Bourbon” already cornered the bourbon-themed market here, so we must come up with a new angle. I like the rhyme-y nod to the bubonic plague, but I’m not sure how one would weaponize that? Unless we go full Cordelia and have a box with PLAGUE written on it and chase people with that. Actually no that’s sensational 10/10

#rwby #i spent two hours on this no one look at me

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road-rhythm · 2 years

Text

Hard Mouth ch. 18 mechanics

This is probably of interest to exactly 1 person, viz., me. But list-making and tabulation make brain go brr, so it’s happening anyway.

Mechanics notes for chapter 18:

A lot of people have asked if I rolled dice for this. I mostly didn’t. I could have, because I did mock up crude maps and stat blocks for all the Volstrucker; but actually playing through it would have been a procrastination time-suck. My rule for myself for fanfic these days is that I’m not allowed to edit before posting—because that’s a short road to total paralysis for me—but I am allowed to plan. Sometimes planning turns into a trap filled with all the quicksand anxiety I’m trying to sidestep by not editing, and I could spend eternity blocking and outlining if I let myself.

So instead, I looked at max/average/min damage for each of the spells I used and just kind of went with outcomes that felt balanced to me. Here's a recap of the spells and abilities used in this chapter.

1. The cheating homebrew:

Caleb’s Fun-Size Gravity Sinkhole One of the things that drives me nuts about translating dnd mechanics into prose is damage. In-game, spells do a certain amount of damage against characters who have a certain number of HP, and that’s it. IRL, different areas of the body are not all equally vital. With melee attacks, DMs can handle that by translating a damage number into a description of where the blow landed, but AoE spells can get weird. Basically, I couldn’t stop thinking about what should/would happen if you centered “a sphere of crushing force” oomphy enough to drag people around at a point inside someone’s heart or spinal cord or brain. So I homebrewed Gravity Sinkhole into a version that offers higher max damage, but requires a ranged spell attack. Further, all targets are treated as having half cover if more than 10′ distant, increasing to three quarters for more than 30′, maximum range 60′. My mechanical translation of Caleb’s first casting is that he was standing ten feet from the target, critted on the attack, and rolled pretty good damage against a target with lousy HP. Glancing hit (low damage roll) against second target (changeling). Advantage on attack roll against third target (because she was paralyzed and incapacitated), hit but did not crit, rolled middle-of-the-road damage but she was already pretty far down.

Volstrucker Glyph Chant tweaks Souping up antagonists doesn’t have the same narrative risks as doing the same for protagonists, so although Matt confirmed that the Glyph Chant ability conferred by the tattoos is reskinned Bladesinging, I went ahead and beefed that up even more. These changes wouldn’t fly in a real game, but in fic I do what I want. 🤷 - Bladesinging extra attack: “Starting at 6th level, you can attack twice, instead of once, whenever you take the Attack action on your turn. Moreover, you can cast one of your cantrips in place of one of those attacks.” Glyph Chant extra attack: “you can cast any spell with a casting time of 1 action in place of one of those attacks.” - Bladesinging itself is a wizarding subclass. But the whole point of the tattoos and the crystals and the experimentation on the Volstrucker is that Trent Ikithon is taking shortcuts to make people into the tools he wants. So I let each of these bitches have a subclass in addition to Bladesinging. It seems to tally with Caleb identifying as a former evocation specialist.

2. Pregame in the elven home:

Surprise round to the Volstrucker: - V1 (half-elf woman, enchantment wizard): bonus action Glyph Chant; drop invisibility; action to activate Daylight on driftglobe & actively look for sunlight sensitivity in members of M9 present - V2 (human man, conjuration wizard, holding his action for V1′s action): BA Glyph Chant, drop invisibility, cast Web - Yasha: gets a BA to rage/action to break free of the web on this round, thanks to Feral Instinct

Round 1: - Beau: monk attack + Flurry of Blows on V1, attempted Stunning Strike (target saves) - V2: Disintegrate at Caduceus (miss); critical hit in a melee attack on Beau for ~50 damage; movement down stairs toward Cad/Caleb - V1: Power Word: Pain on Beau + Mind Sliver on Yasha; no real movement. Bonus action kick Beau down the stairs, I guess. - Caleb: burn Fortune’s Favor mote to pass dex check against web; Slow (success on 1 of 2 targets); move away from webbing - Cad: Dispel on Beau, half movement within web’s difficult terrain

Round 2: - Beau: stand up, quarterstaff attack on V1 - V2: Cone of Cold on Caleb and Cad for middling damage (passed d20 roll imposed by Slow for his spell to complete in this round rather than next) - V1: successful Dominate Person on Beau (LOL, she’s a monk) + melee attack on Yasha (LOL, she’s raging and resistant to piercing damage) - Yasha: 1 melee attack miss when V1 casts Shield as a reaction + 1 hefty melee hit - Caleb: free action to warn Caduceus against over-investing in this fight; Fire Bolt against V2 - Cad: BA Healing Word on Beau, finish getting the fuck out of that web

Round 3: - Beau: Stillness of Mind, aka “enchanter, you thought?”; movement to flank V2 - V2: melee attack on Caleb, who chooses not to Shield, because… - V1: attempts to cast Sending, but is Counterspelled by Caleb - Yasha: Brutal Critical on V1, movement to flank V2 - Caleb: unarmed strike on V2 for one (1) point of damage - Cad: doesn’t even bother

Round 4: just a dump truck of melee attacks on V2, who fires off one last Cone of Cold in retribution, rolling excellent damage and taking a big bite out of Yasha’s HP as she fails the save.

I’m not going to go round by round for the rest of it, but that’s the general idea: trying to balance the chaos and “everything’s happening at once” factor of an IRL fight with what is and isn’t possible in 5e Dungeons & Dragons in order to get a sense of fair play.

3. Party at the Tumblecarves’

Guest list: Owelia, halfling divination wizard, Telepathic Ghostie, white-blonde human woman, abjuration wizard Ken, blond human scourge aasimar man, war magic wizard, Fighting Initiate Sideshow Bob, quite young human man, necromancy wizard Mudtop, darkhaired human woman, illusion wizard Wide Eyes, creepy-ass human changeling girl, evocation wizard, Stealthy Sir Not Appearing for Long, half-dwarf man, transmutation wizard who goes down before Caleb has a chance to pay much attention to him

As Team Peeping Pervs swoops toward the house, the balcony guard left alone by her temporary Volstrucker counterpart panics and tries to flee through the balcony door, triggering a Glyph of Warding set to release a high-level Blight spell. (The Volstrucker had the luxury of putting some quite high-level spells in the bank, as it were, the day before in the form of glyphs and such.)

Owelia drops invisibility to attempt a Chain Lightning attack on Team Peeping Pervs; Caleb counterspells, placing an early strain on their relationship

A Glyph of Warding keyed to go off in the presence of drow hits Essek with Magic Missile at level 7

The instant Beau calls that the Volstrucker are gunning for Essek, Jester throws up Blade Barrier

Which is short-lived, as Mudtop uses a high-level version of a Dispelling Stone to end a few Scourgers’ invisibility spells* (which were about to drop for attack anyway), but also nulify Jester’s 6th-level spell, strip M9 of their disguises, strip Caleb of his Mirror Images, swat down Caduceus’s Hidden Step** before it could do him a lick of good, and make certain M9 had not brought any other allies with them.

Caduceus is getting stabbed a lot. He doesn’t like it. He twists around and gives Wide Eyes a 5th-level Vampiric Touch, which is a domain spell for him.

Sideshow Bob attempts to panic Caleb using Eyebite—but Caleb has advantage on wisdom saving throws against being magically frightened by anyone other than Trent. He deserves it.

Caleb crits on his Fun-Size Gravity Sinkhole on Sideshow Bob. Sideshow Bob has reasons to be a cocky little shit, but he does not have a hell of a lot of HP.

Caleb turns west, toward the center of the room. Owelia, no longer in his line of sight for counterspell, gets to finish casting Chain Lightning this time. It would knock Caleb unconscious, but Caduceus’s Death Ward kicks in and Jester manages to get a Mass Cure Wounds off; some targets, Caleb and Beau among them, benefit from Caduceus’s Beacon of Hope for max healing.

Caduceus drops Beacon of Hope to go straight to Holy Aura. He should not have been able to do this, because Holy Aura calls for a gold-cost material component, and M9 haven’t been able to go shopping since they first got 8th-level spells in Aeor; but I didn’t notice that until just now, so pretend that when he locked up the temple doors to come with the Mighty Nein all the way back in 2x28, he brought a precious temple reliquary worth 1,000 gp with him for safekeeping. I was a little torn on whether to let Cad have this one, balance-wise, so this is the one place where I rolled dice: unseen by Caleb, who was still scraping himself off the floor at 1HP, Ghostie attempted to Counterspell Caduceus’s 8th-level casting. She fucking failed. Suck it, Ghostie.

M9 and some of the Volstrucker play hackey-sack with Lord Tumblecarve’s hand. (ETA: In the midst of all this, Owelia removes Beau for a round with Temporal Shunt.) Veth’s sharpshooting takes it out of play for a while, allowing everybody to get back to the important business of slaughtering each other.

Caleb notes Essek bleeding from what happens to be Mudtop’s Synaptic Static. Essek attempts Tether Essence on her and Owelia. Glyph Chant gives both targets a hefty bonus on the CON save, but because they’re within 30′ of each other, they have disadvantage on the roll. There’s a brief counterspell battle over that between Caleb and Owelia, which Essek bends in Caleb’s favor by using Chronal Shift to force a reroll on Owelia. These wizards just really are not clicking on a personal level.

Caleb sets aside his plan to bring out Cat’s Ire, because while that really lets him do a lot of extra damage with his bonus actions, it’s concentration, so if he goes unconscious again, that 5th-level slot could wind up wasted or severely under-utilized. He tries out the 8th-level spell that, in this AU, he took at level 15 instead of Mind Blank: Feeblemind. Owelia, whose INT score is as high as his is, makes the save, wasting that 8th-level spell slot. She is not happy.

Before she can deliver a complaint to Caleb in person, Beau intercepts her with the Cloak of Billowing. Purely because I was disappointed that M9 never got to use it. In other circumstances, I would probably restrain myself, but this is my fucking fanfic, so I didn’t.

“Employ human shield” is not an available action in the 5e PHB, but too bad. Bye, Otto.

Wide Eyes gets behind Essek by casting Far Step as a bonus action, and then attempts to teleport away with him in some fashion. Here is where I fudged: pretty much every teleport spell in the books requires a willing passenger. But as Matt often says that NPCs don’t have to obey the same rules as PCs, and being able to do an arcane kidnapping seems like a highly relevant and desirable skill for magical assassins, I figure that Volstrucker may have limited abilities to teleport with an unwilling passenger.

But it doesn’t matter, because although Caleb and Essek have used up their reactions, Fjord has not. He counterspells her.

Caleb manages a glancing/low-damage hit with Fun-Size Gravity Sinkhole (FSGS) on the changeling. It gets her attention enough that she doesn’t disembowel Essek outright on her first attempt to do so.

Before Caleb can try to parse out whether Essek’s reaction to his maneuver was horror or horniness, Owelia hits him with Finger of Death. Because his attention is split between Owelia and Essek, Caleb doesn’t fully appreciate how gnarly the spell coming at him is before it hits; but Jester, as a cleric who uses necromantic attacks more often than anybody else in the party, knows instinctively that it’s bad news. She drops an 8th-level Heal on Caleb, forestalling jokes about her clericking for the rest of ever.

Veth gets in a nasty sneak attack on Owelia someplace the sun don’t shine, but Brenatto’s Voltaic Bolt do.

Essek Misty Steps away from the changeling to hit Mudtop with Momentary Stasis, giving Caleb advantage on his FSGS attack. Owelia goes down with her due to Tether Essence.

Nobody has as many resources left for counterspells, and Caduceus has saved some juice. Ghostie has taken barely any damage up to now, but he hits her with Harm.

Before that, she’d knocked out Beau; Caleb didn’t see that, but saw only the aftermath of Yasha bringing Beau back up with Healing Hands. A handy trick, but the necessity of it cost both Sentinel Babes some action economy.

Numerically, though, there are 8 of the M9 still standing against only 3 Volstrucker. Ghostie looks at the field, casts Immolation on Caduceus, and heads for the fireplace.

Caleb is very close to tapped, but he would burn his last 4th-level slot on Dispel on Caduceus if he had a chance. However, in a 6-second round of combat, a lot of things happen on top of each other and in this case…

…the changeling sees an opportunity to tie up Yasha for a crucial moment, probably dispatch Essek and Caleb, and go all-in on the cleric who’s actually done the most healing in this fight. She can do that by combining an evocation subclass ability with the 5th-level spell Steel Wind Strike.

The description for Steel Wind Strike reads, I shit you not, as follows: You flourish the [melee] weapon used in the casting and then vanish to strike like the wind. Choose up to five creatures you can see within range [30′]. Make a melee spell attack against each target. On a hit, a target takes 6d10 force damage. You can then teleport to an unoccupied space you can see within 5 feet of one of the targets you hit or missed.

This would be nasty on its own, but she combines it with her 14th-level evocation subclass ability to Overchannel: Starting at 14th level, you can increase the power of your simpler spells. When you cast a wizard spell of 5th level or lower that deals damage and isn't a cantrip, you can deal maximum damage with that spell. So she hits Yasha, Caleb, and Essek for 60 force damage each, and then devotes two max damage attacks to Jester, one of which is an auto-crit, to slay her outright. In fact, with the “offensive spell counts as attack action” rule I gave the Volstrucker for their Glyph Chant, she could have taken one more auto-crit melee attack on Jester just to be sure, but I didn’t feel like bogging down the flow with that when the one attack was devastating enough, really, so I just left that out.

14th-level evocation wizards get one use of Overchannel for free; there’s a sharp penalty for it thereafter (2d12 necrotic damage per level of spell cast). This may have been her first use, and she thought it could still win them the fight; or it may have been her second use, and it was a suicide attack to buy Ken and Ghostie time. Caleb doesn’t have enough information to determine.

Veth ends her.

While Fjord is in shock, Ken swipes the very obviously magical Star Razor from him and uses it to reach Tumblecarve’s Ring of Mind Shielding high up on the wall, destroying it. Yasha retaliates by impaling him; he reveals himself as a scourge aasimar by making his last act to unleash Radiant Consumption on himself and her.

Fortunately, Caduceus has Dispelled Immolation on himself (let’s hear it for that 1/day firbolg freebie) and is able to promptly Revivify Jester with M9′s last remaining diamond. Less than delighted with having just been nearly burned to death, he hits Ghostie with a simple Hold Person just as she makes it to the fireplace over the difficult terrain of a lot of dead bodies. She chooses to use her reaction to throw a letter into the flames rather than counter Cad’s spell. Caleb observes that the letter “goes up with an unnatural flash.”

Caleb has only three spell slots left: a 4th, a 6th, and his 7th, which last he needs in order to be able to teleport. Much like Essek did once before in the Dungeon of Penance, he ends the last Scourger before him with a 4th-level spell and a personal specialty, his very own Web of Fire.

He succeeds on his wisdom saving throw against being stunned after killing a humanoid with fire, and combat is over.

In Sum

M9′s advantages: a slight edge in numbers in the final confrontation (8 v 7); Caleb suspects a cumulative edge in level, though he cannot quite be sure; two clerics (plus backup healing with Yasha and Fjord); shared experience

Volstrucker advantages: an edge in numbers overall (nine that Caleb knows of currently); complete knowledge of the terrain, cooperation from Tumblecarve, and the luxury of time to prepare with various glyphs and wards; vastly more Counterspells available, which suppressed some of the clerics’ healing early on; ridonk action economy granted by the Glyph Chant (as I’ve interpreted it)

The upshot: a nasty fucking fight, but M9′s healing, versatility, and—crucially—camaraderie and experience with each other carried the day. Volstrucker are well trained, but they’re not great team players. M9? They know each other’s strengths and limitations intimately, and working seamlessly together is what they do best. The greatest cockroach party of them all: long may they reign.

—————————————————————— *Caleb thinks 5 were cloaked with Invisibility, but he’s wrong: three of them were just hidden, and the changeling (whom he didn’t even know about yet) also needed no magic to get the drop on Caduceus.

**Unnoticed by Caleb because of their relative positions (Caduceus was behind him in the doorway, and everybody was facing forward into the room)

#fic: Hard Mouth #Critical Role #DND #5e #d&d 5e #fic notes #Caleb Widogast #Essek Thelyss #the Mighty Nein #the Volstrucker

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mugimugitmnt · 3 years

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No worries. :) And thank you so much! :D Would it be alright if I asked for the Bayverse boys sharing their very first kiss with a female S/O, please? Headcanon or one-shots style, completely your choice. Bonus if they're super awkward and funny cause of their inexperience but if that's not your cup of tea, can be however. ;) Thanks so very much. :D

Very first kiss! (BayVerse)

I really tried to make some of these funny but I couldn’t hold back the cute moments lol hope you like!!

Fem & g/n reader

—————

Leonardo

Leo made his way into the living room portion of the lair, straighten up when he saw your sitting on the couch, your back to him.

“Hey, what’re you up to,” you felt Leo’s broad presence behind you, “what book is that?”

“Just some book I picked up at a yard sale. Look. The owner wrote notes.” Your fingers traced over the tiny letters written in pencil. Leo leaned over the couch you sat on, smiling knowingly to himself. He too is a fan of the practice of marginalia.

But Leo eyes quickly drifted to the tips of your fingers, the soft pink skin and neatly filed nails. He eyed the bracelet around your wrist, taking advantage of this calm moment you were distracted reading to take in the finer details he never got close enough to see.

You turned the page, the crinkle of the paper making Leo turn back to the book, leaning closer, his head over your shoulder. You felt the rising warmth in your face, he was so /close/. You could feel his gentle breathing on the hairs around your ear.

“Look at that one,” Leo pointed to a small note at the bottom of the new page. It was a heart with a little arrow going through it, two initials with a plus sign in the middle, with the date under it- 06.18.1988

The both of you smiled, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the marking of a now older couple.

You turned to look at Leo, only to go wide eyed when you realized his head was already turned towards you.

Faces inches apart, Leo sucked in his breath before pressing his lips onto yours. Frozen for a few moments, your hand slowly came up to cradle his cheek, smiling softly as you felt him melt onto your palm.

You were still, non moving, eyes lightly shut as Leo pulled away, a soft pop sounding from where his lips felt yours.

“Sorry,” Leo mumbled.

“No no... I liked it,” Your hand fell back onto the couch, patting the spot next to you, “sit with me?”

“Yeah, just...just gimme a minute.” Leo nodded, releasing a shaky breath, he didn’t want you to see how weak and shaky you had left his knees.

Raphael

“Raaaph,” you dragged out your words in annoyance, “ I’m so bored!”

You lay flat on the floor next to weight bench, pulling on the hanging red bandana tails that swayed with every bench press Raph did.

Raph grunted, pushing the heavy bar upwards, “then do sumthing.”

“Oh geez yeah that helped,” you rolled your eyes, knowing Raph couldn’t see your face. You watched him do his bench sets, the sweat rolling down in beads around his forehead and forearms. He was steady with it, a smooth up and down motion, his rough breathing and the slight brushing of the manholes as weights brushing against each other sounded through the room.

You sat up, running your fingers through your hair, a stupid, stupid idea making it’s turn through your mind. Maybe not so stupid, but dumb nonetheless.

You crawled over to where Raph continued to lift his weights. Popping up behind him, you leaned over him, hands on either side of his face, in a sideways Spider-Man kiss, daring to swipe your tongue across the underside of his top lip.

You continued to nimbly lick and tease his lips in kisses, until you heard the manhole weight covers jiggling profusely. You jerked your head back as Raphs arms began to shake like a newborn deer.

“Oh fuck... help,” Raph hissed, he could already hear Leo scolding him for not having a spotter. But how was he supposed to stay collected after /that!/

His hands were sweaty and his dirty little brain was firing signals to the wrong head.

You grabbed the bar with both hands, as if that would do anything. Only in your wildest dreams would you have the strength to help Raph lift literally 50 manhole covers.

“Leo! Donnie! HELP!”

Donatello

“Cereal is a soup,” you said, twirling in the desk chair next to Donnie. He momentarily stopped the tiny welding job infront of him, pulling his goggles to the top of his head.

“No,” he scoffed, “I dare say it’s not.”

You pursed your lips as to not laugh, “yeah you’re right. It’s actually a salad. Milk is the dressing.”

“I’m going to throw this battery at you if you don’t sto-“

“Pop tarts are ravioli.” You smiled smugly, watching his face go through the five stages is grief.

“Now that’s just disrespectful!” Donnie stood from his chair, and you kicked back bursting into a laugh as he made his way towards you.

“Corn dogs are just meat twinkies!” You shouted, knowing full well your plan to distract him from his tedious work had been successful.

He grabbed your flailing foot, pulling you and your chair closer to him.

“Coconuts are eggs!”

“Oh my god please no” Donnie and you began to mock fight each other, landing childish hits on each other’s arms, and before either of you could notice, your faces were inches apart.

You smiled upon seeing how close you were, and he gave back that a lopsided grin.

He leaned forward, capturing your bottom lip between his.

He pulled back, your face a bright pink, and you could swear Donnie was red in the face too.

“That pop tart one was messed up,” Donnie stated, the both of you giggling.

Michelangelo

You strolled happily into the lair, a box of cupcakes in hand as you head towards Mikeys room. No way you were sharing with the others, sorry guys.

You didn’t bother knocking as you pushed Mikeys door open, kicking it closed behind you.

“Hey Mikey!” You plopped yourself next to him on his bed. He didn’t budge from his spot under the blankets. You nudged him, taking out a cupcake and peeling the paper off the sides.

You pulled back the covers off Mikeys head, /he’s such a heavy sleeper/ you thought.

You pushed the cupcake up against his snout, “I brought cupcaaaakes,” you whispered, grinning widely as Mikey began to stir, his eyes lazily trying to pry themselves open.

“Mmmm... that’s awesome dudette,” Mikey reached up to grab the cupcake, but you quickly pulled it away.

He flipped over, sitting up to match you now, watching in fake horror as you bit into the cupcake, “what? I didn’t say it was for you,” you stifled a laugh as Mikey threw himself back on the bed.

“My trust. Gone. All in that one bite of cupcake!” Mikey threw a fake tantrum on the bed, taking a second to peek at you to see if you were laughing.

You shook your head chuckling, grabbing Mikey his own cupcake. He gasped, sitting next to you accepting the cupcake.

“Cheers,” you click your cupcakes together.

Between the two of you, you managed to finish the box of a dozen cupcakes.

“I think I’m gonna go into a sugar coma,” you burped, which Mikey took as a challenge and burped back louder.

You and Mikey broke into fits of giggles, the butterfly’s in your stomach and the sugar in your system making you feel lighter with warmth.

Mikey eyed you, enjoying how you snorted sometimes when you laughed, wiping extra frosting from your chin.

“Hey, can I kiss you?” Mikey said simply.

Your laughed softly faded as you beamed at Mikey, nodding in agreement.

Mikey scooted closer to you, taking your face into both big hands. His baby blue eyes scanning through your face, you couldn’t hold in the excited giggles from the nerves and neither could he.

He took in a deep breath before pressing his face against yours, you didn’t have a chance to kiss back before he blew all the air in his lungs into your mouth.

You reared your head back, feeling your nose burn from the air pushing through it. You fell into a coughing fit, Mikey holding onto your shoulders, “y/n! Oh dude I’m sorry I-“

You held your hand up, wiping a tiny tear from your eye. You tried giving him a reassuring smile, “no it’s fine,” you finally composed yourself, “how about we try again?”

Mikey gave you that goofy kid smile, before the both of you leaned into each other for a soft, sugary kiss.

#oc x tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2016 #bayverse turtles #tmnt raph x reader #tmntsmut #tmnt donnie #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt mikey #tmnt 2016

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terubakudan · 3 years

Text

This may be an old article from 3 years ago, but these cultural aspects/observations still apply even today. And though this is strictly a Chinese perspective, a lot of these everyday life bits are observed in Overseas Chinese communities in countries such as The Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, etc. as well as countries heavily influenced by Chinese culture like Taiwan, Japan, and Korea.

I've always liked learning about other cultures and making comparisons between how things are done East vs West. Which probably stems from growing up with two cultures and Mom raising me on American movies xD

So the irony is if you asked me how many Chinese, Taiwanese, or Hong Kong actors I know, chances are I know as much as you do xD Like Jackie Chan, Andy Lau, and that's about it. But if you asked me about Western (specifically American and British) actors, then I have a useless brain dump of movie trivia and who was with who in what movie xD

Hmmm, both Taiwan and the Philippines are two distinct cultures but both look up to a certain country and are fascinated by that. In Taiwan's case, Japan and the US for the Philippines. In both cases, this is due to being under the rule of those countries in their history. Taiwan being under Japan for 50 years, and the Philippines being under Spain for 300+ years, followed by periods of American and Japanese rule. To put it simply though:

Taiwan is "mini-Japan with a very Chinese culture".

The Philippines is "former colony of Spain with lots of American influences".

But unlike the author, I've never set foot in any Western country, so my understandings are strictly what I've observed in media, which while it can be accurate, doesn't compare to actually experiencing the culture.

Some further elaboration on most points:

#1 We quite literally use chopsticks for everything. We use it to pick rice, viands, vegetables, fruit, smaller desserts, almost all the food you can think of.

But where do you put your chopsticks when you're not using them? Just put them on top of your bowl or flat on your plate. But do not ever stick them vertically. It's taboo, since it looks like incense sticks, which we use to pray for those who have passed, like our ancestors or during funerary services.

#3 The majority of Asia is obsessed with fair/white skin. In my time at the Philippines, I grew up watching all these Dove Whitening commercials and my classmates often commented on how fair my skin was, how they envied it etc. In Taiwan, girls often say they don't want to 變黑 (biàn hēi) 'become dark'. Japan and Korea too are not innocent of this either (if their beauty/skin products weren't a dead giveaway).

People here at Taiwan often mistake me for being from Hong Kong or Japan (as long as I don't speak Mandarin with my heavy accent xD). A Taiwanese classmate of mine joked that she often gets mistaken for being from Southeast Asia due to having a darker complexion. And while I laughed it off with her at that time, looking back, I now realize she was lowkey being racist. xD

And believe me Filipinas have mentioned literally being told 'your skin is so dark' here in Taiwan, or being given backhanded compliments like 'you're pretty despite having dark skin' and...*facepalms*

My point is, beauty is not exclusive to skin color. People who still think that are assholes.

#5 Not to say we don't have salt and pepper, but yes soy sauce and vinegar are the classic condiments you see on the table, be it at home or at a restaurant.

And if I may add, Taiwanese love their pepper. xD If you ever get to eat at a night market or a smaller "Mom n' Pop-style" restaurant here, some dishes/soups tend to add quite an excessive amount of pepper. Not like anthills, but quite liberally and way more than average. Enough that you see traces of pepper at the bottom of the food paper bag or swirling in your soup. xD

#6 I know this all too well from personal experience. In my years of studying at Taiwan, I always had roommates. 3 in my first school (I graduated high school in the Philippines pre K-12 so I had to make up 2 years of Senior High), followed by 2 in college, with the exception of 1 in freshman year.

My college did offer single person dorms but at around 9000 NTD ($324) per month compared to around 6000 NTD ($216) per semester. Because I wanted to save, the choice was obvious for me xD. But ah, this doesn't mean I don't value personal space, in fact I love having the room to myself, and since both my roomies would go home to their families every weekend, weekends were bliss for me xD

And you don't have to be friends with your roommates (that's an added bonus however), you just have to get along with them. I was quite lucky to have really great roommates all throughout my schooling years.

#9 In the Philippines, we do. Owing mostly to American influences and maybe being predominantly Catholic? xD

#10 *sigh* Chinese parents and parents from similar Asian cultures tend to put too much emphasis on grades, so much that kids could get sent to cram school as early as elementary. This is because what school you get into could literally affect your future job opportunities, and while that's not exclusive to any particular country/culture, I feel it's especially pronounced here in Asia. I'm really lucky my own parents weren't that strict about it. However, if your parents don't point the mistakes out to you, chances are you'll do it yourself, if you're an Asian kid like me anyway. xD It just becomes a habit.

#11 My family is an exception to this. xD We do say 'I love you' directly, but complete with the 'ah eat well ok?', 'don't scrimp on food', 'sleep well' and similar indirect words/actions of affection. We were doing 'Conceal, Don't Feel' before it became popular. xD

#13 I'm kind of confused about this but this has sort have changed over the years in which eye-contact is now more encouraged. But don't stare, especially at elders and authority figures. Sometimes it's just shyness though. xD And I've observed this with my own Taiwanese friend, especially when I'm complaining or ranting to her about something. xD I'm a person who likes to express my opinions strongly, which tends to scare/alienate some of the locals here, as doing so is kind of frowned upon. Thankfully, she does listen and offers her take on things.

#14 Ah this. xD In the Philippines, this is a common greeting known as beso-beso, and I freaked out too when an auntie did that to me. xD Needless to say, Mom lectured me later on what that was. ^^"

#16 Along with #3 another crazy beauty standard. In my view, people always look better with a little meat on them and when they're not horribly thin. Asia still has a loonng way to go with accepting different types of bodies if you ask me. This combined with modern beauty standards has made the pressure for women especially to 'look beautiful' higher than ever.

I know many people love them but please, starving yourself or glorifying eating disorders is never OK just to get this kind of 'ideal' body. I'm not part of the Kpop fandom, but even I think when idols get bullied just for gaining the least bit of weight among other insensitive comments, that's really going too far.

#17 'If you want to make friends, go eat.' <- I couldn't agree more. In the Philippines we have a greeting: 'Kumain ka na ba?' (Have you eaten?) . Similarly in Taiwan, we have 吃飯了沒? (chī fàn le méi), both of these can mean that in the literal sense but are often used as greetings instead. By then which invitation to having lunch/dinner together may or may not follow. Food really is a way for us to socialize and to catch up with what's going on in each other's lives. Not to say we don't have regular outings like going out to the mall, going shopping, etc. but eating together is a huge part of our culture, be it with family or friends.

And while I'm at it, some memes that are way too accurate good to pass up xD

Parents, uncles, aunties alike will fight over the bill xD

Alternatively:

You just space out until your name is called xD

My parents are guilty of the last one. Logic how? xD

#18 True. xD I like giving compliments out to people but I have a hard time accepting them myself, though I've learnt how to accept them much more now than before. We're kind of raised to constantly downplay ourselves so we often say things like 'ah no no' or 'I'm really not that good'. The downside of this of course is that it can come off as somewhat fake. xD

Again from personal experience, that same classmate who made the lowkey racist remark, she was good, she was on the debate team, was a honor student, knew how to mingle with people, but she downplayed herself way too much, while praising me but I honestly thought that she never really meant it from how she treated me. She wanted to keep me around her yet make backhanded compliments at me and she didn't want me socializing with my other classmate who is now my friend. *sigh* It was only after discussing this with one of my roomies did I realize how this 'excessive downplaying' might come off to people like me who more or less grew up with a more 'Westernized' mindset. I'm not saying brag about your achievements but don't be overly humble about them either, which can also be a turn off.

#20 We do tend to be a lot more realistic on how we view things, neither entirely optimistic nor pessimistic. We try to think of things practically and often analyze things on pure logic. A downside of this however, is that Chinese people can be overly practical. Taiwanese for instance don't like to 'find inconveniences' and generally keep to themselves, meaning, they won't help you in your hour of need even when they do have the capabilities. Sounds really harsh I know, but in my 6 years of living in Taiwan, while this doesn't apply to all the people, a lot of them really do only find/talk to you when they need something.

So for some people saying Taiwanese are 'friendly', that's BS xD If you ask me, Filipinos are infinitely more friendly, and again while not all, generally make more of an effort to help you when you need it. I really felt more of a real sense of community during my years growing up in the Philippines compared to Taiwan.

#21 Children do tend to stay with their parents well into college and adulthood, since Chinese families are indeed very family-oriented, in a lot of cases, grandparents often live under the same roof as us as well! And it really does save a lot of money. I see there's a real stigma in the US when it comes to "living with your parents", but that's starting to change especially because of Covid and having more and more people move back in with their parents.

Housing unfortunately is pretty much hella expensive no matter where you go, and Taiwan is no exception. Steep housing prices and the very high cost of raising a child (schooling + buxiban fees, etc.) contribute to a very low birth rate and thus an aging population like Japan. It's not uncommon to see both parents working in Taiwan.

#23 I'm an overthinker myself, but I totally agree with the author that the best is to strike a good balance between these two. Which I guess is why I love drawing or any other related creative attempts, it helps me be more spontaneous or well, creative! I like to remain intellectually or artistically inspired.

#24 Is French high school really like that? xD My friend did watch SKAM France and more or less got a culture shock from what was depicted on the show. I can confirm however that most high schools both in the Philippines and Taiwan require students to wear a uniform, only in college is everybody free to wear casual/civilian clothes.

#26 Ah this is part of our Asian gift-giving etiquette xD We always open gifts later after the event/meeting and in private. Never open them in front of the person who gave it to you or in front of others. This is to prevent any 'shame/embarrassment' that may result both to yourself and to the gift giver. I know this may come off as something weird since some people may want a more honest response or immediate feedback when it comes to gift-giving, but that's just how it is in our culture. You're always free to ask us though (in private) if we liked the gift or not ^^"

#28 I want to say the same goes to drinking, partying, and drugs however xD Those are things which are still frowned upon in our culture. And to be honest, whenever I see those in movies, it does kind of turn me off xD It doesn't mean that we're "uncool" or "boring", we just think that there are much better or healthier ways of "having fun".

#31 Is this true in France?! Man I would kind of prefer that instead of people being on their phones all the time xD This kind of goes with #20 in that Chinese are overly practical or logical, and don't read fiction as much as nonfiction. My Taiwanese friend is an exception though, she's a bibliophile who loves the feel of paper books compared to e-books, and it's a trait of her that I like a lot. Both the Philippines and Taiwan however have a huge fanbase when it comes to manga and anime though.

I'm all for reading outside of "designated reading" at schools especially. Reading fiction improves your vocabulary too, and can be quite fun! It helps you imagine and really invest in a world/story, and if you ask me something that I feel Westerners are better at, they're more in touch with their emotions and creativity, and are thus much more able to write compelling or original stories. Believe me, I've seen a fair amount of Chinese movies that rip off Western movie plotlines xD

#33 Nothing much to add on here..except that since I'm a "weird" person, Mom often jokes that she got the wrong baby from the hospital. xD

#35 True. While I agree with the care and concern that your fellow community can give you, the downside of this is we tend to only hang out with our own people, e.g Chinese with Chinese, Taiwanese with Taiwanese, etc. I've seen too that it's especially hard to make friends in Japan and Korea as a foreigner. Not only is there the language barrier, but the differences in culture too. In a way, Asians can be pretty close-minded on getting to know other cultures or actually making friends with people from other countries. I know this all too well being half-Taiwanese/half-Filipino, being neither "Filipino" enough nor "Taiwanese" enough. xD It's more of people here being too used to what they're comfortable with.

#36 Oh this is something I feel that Chinese students and other students from similar cultures should really improve on. xD How will people respect you if you don't speak your mind?

I felt bad especially for my Spanish teacher in college, granted it was an introductory course (Spanish I and II) but the amount of times that our teacher had to prompt a student to recite/speak even with clear hints already made her (and me too) extremely frustrated. The thing is, these are college students, I personally feel they don't have any reason to be so shy of speaking and technically by not doing so they're slowing the pace of the class too much and a lot of time is wasted.

Unfortunately you can't always be very vocal with your thoughts and opinions in most Asian cultures. I would say strive for that, but at the same time, play your cards well, especially if you're in a workplace setting.

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading and here's a cookie! 🍪 I'm not perfect and there's bound to be something I missed so please let me know if you spotted anything wrong. Feedback/questions are very much welcome and please feel free to share about your country/culture's differences or similarities!

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bosspigeon · 3 years

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not if it's you

Prompt: Day One: Cooking, Day Two: Cuddling💕 Pairing: Mason/Male Detective Words: 3293 Summary: Mason is sick. Mason's not supposed to get sick, but magic tends to not give a shit if you're a big, tough vampire man with a reputation to maintain. A prompt fill for @wayhavensummer that I wasn't sure I'd finish, but I'm glad I decided to. I combined two prompts into one, along with the inclusion of the bonus challenge, "love languages!" Juni's love language is Acts of Service~ CW for emetophobia. Nothing actually happens, but it is discussed!

“I’m not a vampire, Mason,” Juni said to him when he clicked on the lamp on his dresser and Mason growled loudly in protest. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see in the dark.”

Mason's growl became a long, low groaning noise as he dragged a pillow over his face. It helped more than he cared to admit, being immediately plunged into soothing darkness and smothered in the warm, sweet scent of the detective buried in his pillow.

Still, he feels like absolute shit.

The illness should run its course in just a few days, from what Juni’s relayed to him about Nate’s research—since he won’t leave Juni’s apartment (he’s not going to say can’t, because that implies weakness, implies that he couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he could, he just won’t, and that’s all there is to it) until he’s well, and refuses to go crawling to the Agency when he just needs to wait things out.

If he went to the Agency, he’d just be “waiting things out” the same as he is there, only he’d be doing it alone in a stiflingly empty observation room, bored out of his fucking skull until someone decided to come poke at him for science. At least here, he’s got Juni fussing over him.

It’s sort of… nice, being fussed over.

And Juni would be fussing whether Mason was here or not. He’d probably be driving himself crazy with worry, making himself sick with it, if Mason were stuck at headquarters without him, and the thought of that makes Mason feel even worse than he already does. It’s really best for the both of them that the vampire is here, buried in a metric fuckton of blankets (because even if he feels like he’s going to burn alive, the second he leaves them the sweat cools on his skin and leaves him trembling) looking into the blank, beady eyes of a patchwork plush cat.

His entire body aches, throbbing dully from the top down, but he reaches out with a heavy arm and turns it around so it’s not fucking staring at him anymore.

Juni’s been gone for a while, but Mason can hear him over the low ringing in his ears, puttering around in the kitchen. His senses are weakened by the bizarre magical illness Juni’s likened to the flu after hearing the symptoms, but he hears the detective humming quietly to himself, smells some spices and herbs he’s too exhausted to bother identifying over the low thrum of something metallic and familiar.

Mason's stomach growls at the same moment it churns. Hungry, but the very thought of consuming anything, blood included, makes him feel nauseous.

He doesn't know how Juni managed to sweet-talk Adam into handing over Mason's blood rations for the few days it would take this sickness to work its way through his body, but it makes him faintly irked he'll have to disappoint the detective when he tells him he doesn't even think his traitorous stomach can handle it, no matter how hungry he is. Juni always looks so pitiful when he can't help, soft doe eyes and pouty mouth and genuine, heartfelt distress rolling off him in waves. Mason groans into the pillow and comforts himself by drawing another detective-scented breath deep into his lungs.

And then Juni knocks on the doorframe (of his own fucking bedroom, because he's ridiculous, and Mason's chest squeezes) and calls, "Still alive in here?" softly teasing, his voice carefully lowered in deference to Mason's throbbing skull.

He makes a rough noise and tosses aside the pillow, because the only thing better than being buried in Juni-perfumed sheets is taking in the scent of him right from the source.

Juni always looks so different when he's at home. He relaxes, softens, like a bird coming to roost. His shoulders aren't so tense, his eyes stop darting like he's waiting for an attack (something Mason noticed even before Juni was actually under attack every other week) and he just, he looks settled and safe. After the shit he’s been through, he deserves to feel safe.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Mason just awkwardly squirms his way out of the blankets to free his arms enough to reach out.

"C'mere," he grunts.

Juni laughs, and the way his cheeks curve, the way they make his eyes crinkle at the corners, makes Mason hate whatever magic bullshit allowed him to get sick in the first place with a burning fury that feels like it's immolating him from the inside.

Or maybe that's the fever.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Juni teases when Mason growls. It's not as fierce as he hoped it would be, which is more than obvious when Juni only smiles indulgently at him.

He perches on the edge of the bed and smooths a hand over Mason's clammy forehead, making a soft, commiserating cooing noise. Mason wants to be annoyed, wants to growl again, complain about being coddled, but the sound that comes out of him is not a growl, or a curse, but a soft moan. He pushes up into Juni’s hand and closes his eyes.

“You’re still burning up,” Juni sighs, sinking his fingers into the vampire’s hair and scratching at his scalp. He moans again, lower and rougher. A little awkwardly, he adds, “Nate said you should, y’know, drink something.”

Mason’s stomach turns, and he grits his teeth and shakes his head.

“Mason.”

He shakes his head again, turning his face into the pillow again when it starts to make him dizzy. He wants to break something. He feels so pitiful.

“Mason, you’re not gonna get better if you don’t—”

“You ever seen someone puke blood, detective?” he snaps. Juni’s hand retracts sharply, and Mason keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see the hurt streaking across that soft, expressive face. “It’s not pretty,” he adds gruffly, and it takes all the strength in his flagging body to roll over and turn his back.

Juni’s quiet for a long moment, before soft fingers are sliding into his hair again,rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I had kind of a weird idea that might help, if you think you can stop pouting long enough to hear me out,” he says.

“You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy, huh?” Mason grumbles, but his body, an aching knot of sweaty tension, starts to slowly loosen up under the gentle petting.

Juni goes quiet again, and then, with a little laugh, he says, “Would it make you feel better if I told you you’re really cute when you’re all whiny?”

“How fucking dare you,” he snarls impotently into the pillow.

Juni laughs, and when Mason rolls over again to glower at him, he snorts trying to stifle it. “Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

“Not exactly in any position to stop you, am I?” Mason scoffs.

The detective pokes his nose. “Nope!” Mason nips at his finger, but his reflexes aren’t exactly great at the moment, and Juni just pulls it back with a smile. “I wanted to ask before I, like, ruined one of your blood rations for a weird experiment, but I’ve been doing research on different recipes that use blood—” “Why?” Mason interjects.

Juni flounders a bit, shoulders drawing up to his ears. “I… Well, I know you don’t like to eat human food, for good reasons, but sometimes I can convince Felix and Adam to try stuff I make, and Nate likes to eat sometimes, and I like… I like cooking for people? And I can’t really do that for you, because I know how overwhelming your senses can be, but you’ve said they’re kind of dull right now, so I thought maybe I could make, well… sort of a blood soup?"

Mason blinks at the detective.

Juni nervously babbles on to fill his befuddled silence. "If I thinned it out with a mild broth, I figured it would go down easier. And I know ginger is really strong on its own, but it also settles the stomach, and with the blood and the broth, it might help? I thought about adding some other things, but I tried to be picky with it, because even if your senses are dulled, I don't want to overwhelm you."

Mason chews it over, and even though he can tell his silence is making Juni nervous with every second that ticks by (fidgety, fussy, open and honest to a goddamned fault, a ball of nerves Mason wants to drag into bed and shield from the world) he can't really think of much to say, except, "Sure. Why the fuck not?"

"That's okay! I figured it was a long shot anyway, and—" Juni freezes, his knee-jerk anxious capitulation cutting off like he’s run into a brick wall. "What?"

"I'm already overwhelmed, sweetheart," Mason groans, and honestly, even talking is getting exhausting, his aching throat protesting every word he can manage to eke out. He wants Juni closer, wants to bury his face in his neck and hide like a wounded animal crawling its way home. "It honestly can't get worse at this point. If you think it'll help, I'll try it."

Juni still looks stunned, but is also clearly jangling with nervous excitement. Nate's used the term "puppyish enthusiasm" before when describing the way Juni lights up when he's actually able to help, and it's almost comically accurate.

Juni's bolted from the room before Mason's sluggish brain has a chance to even process the humor at the observation into a snort.

He's alone again, and if Juni were still here, he'd call what Mason's doing pouting, but he's scowling, damn it. Not that anyone's around to see it save for Juni's stuffed animals. He pulls the pillow to his chest, half-burying himself underneath the blankets again. He keeps his foggy focus stretched far enough to hear Juni in the kitchen again, making a game effort not to clatter around noisily and failing spectacularly. It's the thought that counts, Mason supposes.

It doesn't actually take all that long for him to come back, but it still feels like ages with how shitty Mason feels. He's painfully aware of every single ache in his body, radiating down to his bones, of the fever burning him up, the mutinous turning of his stomach even as it gnaws itself apart with hunger. He’s becoming so bogged down in the prison his ailing body has become, he almost doesn’t notice Juni pattering his way back into the room. Almost.

The second he crosses the threshold, Mason senses are honing in on everything they can about him, his smell, his warmth, the way his cozy sweater (it’s midsummer, for fuck’s sake, and sure the AC is cranked due to Mason’s fever, but it always is, because Juni’s body regulates temperature like a goddamned lizard and he hates the heat almost more than Mason does) makes him look soft and touchable. It takes him a long while to even notice the detective is carrying a tea tray with a bowl on it, as well as a glass of water, and when he does, he’s honestly not sure what to make of the smell.

Human food is overwhelming, usually. But usually, Mason’s sinuses aren’t swollen and borderline useless. Juni is walking as carefully as he can, and there is a palpable relief when he sets the tray down on his bedside table without incident. “I made the broth already, because I didn’t want it to take too long if you said yes. It actually smells, like, really good? Is that gross of me to say?”

Mason tries to push himself upright, and his muscles protest loudly enough that he can’t quite bite back a grunt of pain. Juni makes a sound like he’s been shot, and his hands are on Mason with an urgency that vibrates through his skin. Still, his touch is an instant balm to the vampire’s overwrought senses, his hands gentle as they ease him upright and fussily pile pillows behind him to support him. It fucking sucks to be so weak, but at least it’s only Juni seeing him like this. He can’t quite express why, when it feels like his head’s stuffed full of cotton, but he thinks it would suck a lot more if he were riding this out alone, or in a sterile room at HQ. He lolls his head towards Juni, his cheek smashing against one of a half-dozen goddamned pillows piled around him, and laughs weakly. “Gonna feed me too, Nurse Fenn?”

Juni blushes, and the usual rush of his blood doesn’t smack Mason in the face like usual, but it washes over him in a gentle wave of warmth, that tempting smell tickling the back of his tongue. “Do you need me to?” he asks, and it’s pretty clear he’s trying to make it sound teasing, but it comes out much more earnest than anything else.

Mason almost wants to say yes, but he also doesn’t want Juni to be in the splash zone if his stomach decides it can’t handle the detective’s little experiment. “Nah, I got it,” he grunts, reaching for the tray. It trembles dangerously when his shaking hands lift it, but Juni’s quick to steady it and guide it to his lap. He mutters a quiet thanks, and Juni mercifully doesn’t rib him for his uncharacteristic politeness. “You’d make a cute nurse, detective,” he says to cover the strangely loaded silence.

Juni laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, close but not quite touching. “I’m too squeamish,” he offers with a shrug that rubs their shoulders together.

“You just made me soup out of blood,” Mason says dully.

“I also have a borderline breakdown giving myself the same shot I’ve been giving myself every week for the last decade,” Juni retorts. “Do you really think I could do it for someone else?”

Mason snorts. “Probably not. Would kill to see you in one of those little dresses, though.”

The only thing protecting Mason from getting a hilariously ineffectual swat on the shoulder is the bowl of soup in his lap. He’s not even sure his current feeble condition would be enough to stop Juni otherwise. “Eat your soup, asshole,” Juni groans, covering his burning face with his hands. He peeks through his fingers after a moment’s hesitation, “And maybe I’ll show you the Halloween costume Tina got me as a joke a couple years ago when you’re feeling better.”

Mason’s whole body reacts to that, and he can’t be sure if the chill that rolls down his spine is due to the illness, or something else entirely. If nothing else, choking down some soup will be worth it, just for that promise.

The first spoonful goes down surprisingly easy. He doesn’t really taste much, at first, not even the coppery tang of blood. It’s thin, as Juni promised, so it doesn’t quite coat his mouth the same way fresh, raw blood would. Juni’s watching him with obvious concern, eyebrows scrunched together and plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. Either concern that Mason’s body is going to reject it fully, or he just won’t fucking like it. Probably both.

“It’s not too hot, is it?” Juni asks, touching Mason’s knee lightly through the blanket. He swallows his mouthful hard and bites down the urge to ask the human not to stop touching him.

“S’fine,” he grunts, trying to parse what exactly he makes of it at all. The warmth feels nice, soothing his raw throat. He takes another bite. He thinks he can sort of make out the individual spices underneath the taste of the blood and the broth (slightly watered down bone broth, he;d guess) but he can’t really smell them either. The ginger, at least, is obvious. He knows the smell enough to guess the taste, even with the complete lack of culinary experience. It’s, strangely enough, not horrible. It does taste mostly like thinned-out blood, which is weird, and gives him a sense of dissonance from the texture he expects blood to have. “Weird.”

Juni doesn’t seem to take offense to that. “Well, you’re not spewing it across the room like you’re possessed, at least, so weird is better than bad?” he laughs, squeezing Mason’s knee. “How’s your stomach?”

Mason takes a second to consider. “Not great, but not terrible.”

Juni almost deflates with relief. “And the taste? It’s not too much, is it? I can be kind of heavy-handed with my seasoning, so I tried to be really careful. It’s really only a pinch of salt, sage, and ginger, with a little bit of licorice root, which I know is kind of weird, but it’s good for sore throats?”

“Tastes like…” Mason screws up his face, realizing he has absolutely no context to work with. “I don’t know. I think I like it?”

Juni smiles like the goddamned sun, and it somehow makes his snarky little pet name for Mason that much funnier. “Really?”

Mason’s not sure he’d be saying the same thing if his senses weren’t dulled to near-uselessness by his traitorous body, but the way Juni looks, like he couldn’t be happier to be dealing with a sick, cranky vampire hogging his bed and sweating in his sheets, makes him bite his tongue. There’s always a brightness to the human when he brings food to the warehouse for Nate and Felix, he smiles so wide his face almost cracks when Adam crumples under the weight of those puppy eyes and takes the smallest portion of whatever concoction Juni’s brought to nibble on, and offers the most awkward compliment he can manage. Juni just likes doing things for people, providing for them any way he can. Food is his usual go-to, but if he can help at all, he’s happy.

I can’t really do that for you.

It almost makes Mason wish he could enjoy whatever the detective whips up in his cramped little kitchen, just to make him smile.

Christ, his brain must be more addled than he thought.

He manages a few more spoonfuls of soup before his stomach starts to feel uncomfortably full, but the gnawing hunger of going too long without drinking has gone away, and he doesn’t feel so much like he’s going to puke like he did earlier. He feels heavy, and tired, and honestly that’s one hell of an improvement. Juni’s quick to take the tray and spirit it off back to the kitchen, bending to press a quick kiss to Mason’s cheek before he goes, and when he returns, the vampire is slumped in his pillow nest and half-asleep, eyes shuttered to thin slits.

He feels more than he sees Juni approach, and when a gentle hand smooths over his clammy forehead, he pushes up into it with a raw, weak noise he has zero energy to be embarrassed by anymore. He reaches out blindly, tangles his fingers in the knit of his detective’s sweater, and tugs. He can’t be sure how it happens, a jumble of movement and complaining muscles, but Juni winds up in bed with him, slouched comfortably against the pillows so Mason can rest his head on the soft curve of his belly. The human plays idly, sweetly with his hair, twirling damp curls around his fingers.

“I’m sweaty,” Mason halfheartedly protests. Juni’s stomach rises and falls beneath his head. It feels like being on the ocean, like being rocked to sleep on quiet waves.

“I don’t mind,” Juni murmurs, thumb stroking the shell of his ear.

Before he can think of anything to say to that, he’s being pulled under, dozing off between one breath and the next.

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nightingtalehearts · 3 years

Text

2Ha Thoughts.

I honestly applaud Chen Feiyu for taking on the role of Mo Ran. It's really hard to act out his character, so I said to myself that I wouldn't have any high expectations for the incoming live drama adaptation. Most people think that Feiyu will act out 3 versions of his character - Mo Ran 0.5, Mo Ran 1.0, and Mo Ran 2.0 - but for me, I like to think that there are 4 different ones.

SPOILERS AHEAD!! BE WARNED!!

First, he'll act out as the infamous Taxian-jun, who is a savage, bloodthirsty, and lustful mound. He is quick to anger and won't hesitate on killing anything that's on his path (except umm..of course, Chu Wanning hehe). This version is the evil form of his emotions, the one that the flower brought out, and twisted himself so hard that he would be horrified by the things he've done if he had any left sanity in him. (2Ha readers would, of course, know this as we experience his thoughts and emotions as he was reincarnated in his second life later on.) Everything this person did was on the image of his supposed lover, Shi Mei. He thought he dearly loved him so held everyone, most especially Chu Wanning, in contempt after Shi Mei passed away.

Second, he'll act out as Mo Weiyu. In this version, he is a disciple of Chu Wanning, the Yunheng Elder, and he is also a cultivator and an acquaintace to others, such as Ye Wangxi and Nangong Si. People see him as a person with filial respect (which WE know will be ironic since he fell in love with his shizun later on, for goodness' sake 😂) and average skills - he doesn't have a spiritual weapon yet, nor does he have good calligraphy or communication abilities. He is a hardheaded person, as we can see from his vehement denial on many things, including his affair with Rong Jiu. At this point, he is slowly "falling out of love" from Shi Mei and he begins his path towards redemption, looking for things and silver linings in every situation.

Third, he'll act out as Mo Ran, which subjectively, is the hardest role yet. Even I can't explain him this well because this version of his character is so complex. It can actually be divided into two parts. The first part: as a child, in his heart, he desperately craves and needs love. Mo Ran was the child that loved his mother, who named her as the first person that he liked the most in the world. He was the child who saw the hope and joy in everything despite all the pain and hurt that the world gave him. He was the kid that was beaten down to the dust, yet when he recived food from a stranger, he held the latter dearly in his heart, grateful for his blessings. He's the teen who entered Sisheng Peak, who immediately picked Chu Wanning because he said that he looks the gentlest and the most easy-going. He's the person who only had the purest love for Chu Wanning, and he's also the person who died just to protect him. (For me, this version of him died when he made Shi Mei take him instead of Chu Wanning. At that point he slowly became Taxian-jun, a puppet molded by Shi Mei.) And let's not deny it: just like how Mo Ran unknowingly loved Chu Wanning here, the latter also unknowingly loved him too. As of that point, they didn't "fall in love" with each other, but they were each other's light - they both gave each other the love they both deserved, so at most, they were each other's precious treasures.

The second part is on his next life. He is now known as the cousin of Xue Meng, the adopted nephew of Madam Wang & Xue Zhengming, the sect brothers of A-Mei and A-Meng, and the unruly disciple of Chu Wanning. At this point, he realizes that he may not have loved Shi Mei that deeply as he thought, but take note that he doesn't think that he is in love with his shizun yet. In the contrary, at this point, he is still adapting to his new circumstances, and he is learning new things as well as patching up misunderstandings. From his past life, his personality drastically changes, as shown from the immense change in spiritual weapons, from Bugui to Jiangui. This goes to show that even if they are the same person, he is a breaker that can lead himself to a different path. (Readers would also be giddy when they find out that Jiangui is similar to Tianwen, which symbolizes the deeply encased love he has. It also symbolizes that Mo Ran is an oblivious idiot periodt.)

Mo Ran is also the version who was conflicted by his own emotions. He is the person who begins to understand and notice some things, the person who finds out that his shizun was protecting not only him, but also everybody all along. It is he who sees Chu Wanning truly, and he notices that despite all the harsh wards and cold persona that the latter has, deep inside, he has a soft heart. It's he who notices everything that went wrong in his previous life, and he's also the person who's confused on his past actions. After Chu Wanning died, through Xue Meng drilling it into his brain, he found out that he was protecting him from the shadows, going as far by carrying him through more than three thousand steps to save him. (catch me crying in the corner I CAN'T WITH CHAPTER 97 HUHUHU) He's the person who regretted deeply.

Finally, the last version he'll act out is Mo-zongshi. This version started after the death of Chu Wanning, and also when he was about to go to the underworld. At that point, he saw all the instances where his shizun showed his love. He saw the wontons scene, in which he tried his best to assure his shizun that he doesn't need to be sorry, because on that specific day, the very reason why he was whipped, was because he stole that flower just for Chu Wanning, him. (btw all the symbolisms in this novel ARE INSANE like the flowers?? it could be for either the one mentioned or the ones Shi Mei planted. let's not mention the food: wontons, bowl of soup, bowl of congee, EVEN THE DAMN HOTPOT) He's the person who put back the pieces of the one he loves, brought him back to life, and waited five years for him.

He's a man in grief. He's a man in love.

While he waited for Chu Wanning to wake up, he now became the person that he very much wanted to be when he was younger: a hero. Now, he was Mo-zongshi, a famous cultivator known for his strength and bravery. He took on fights and got injured, but he never once stopped because he did it all for his shizun, to make him proud. Unconsciously, because of his yearning (CATCH ME CRYING AGAIN the quote?? "To yearn unwittingly breaks the willow branch." nOO), he copies Chu Wanning, down to his handwriting, his style of fighting, his outfit, and the way he looks. The person that's deeply in his heart is shown outside, so much that even Nangong Si mistakenly thought that he was Chu Wanning. Later, after Chu Wanning wakes up and after certain circumstances, he realizes that he was and still is in love with him all along, not Shi Mei.

At this point, Chu Wanning also falls in love with him. He saw the goodness in his heart, the strength and bravery he had, and the kindness he showed towards others. Aside from the bonus brownie points which is Mo Ran's looks (not blaming shizun, our husky is too good-looking!!), they now resolve their misunderstandings and their relationship turns deeper. When Mo-zongshi finally confesses...incoming fluff all around.

But like the Mo Ran version, his ending is way too sad. He deserves to know that it wasn't his fault that he turned out this way. It wasn't his fault that he turned out to be evil and hurt his lover. I know this, you know this, all readers know this, Chu Wanning knows it, but he doesn't, which is the most painful thing ever, because how much does it hurt for you to think that you abused the man you love in your past life? I was quite literally sobbing when he mentioned that Chu Wanning was his "God", his dragon, who had come to save him even if he felt like he didn't deserve it. He died, and he was the person who Chu Wanning mourned over, because it wasn't his fault, it never was.

(...i'm so empty inside...chapter 279...that chapter legit suffocated me due to my tears...)

But at the end, all those versions of him are, at core, the same. They may not show it similarly, but they are all strong on their beliefs, they are all stubborn and determined, they all love deeply and fiercely, immensely passionate and protective over the ones they love, and they are all a good person, if you look deeply into his heart.

Through Taxian-jun's dreams and his protection of his lover's corpse, through Mo Weiyu's determination on his redemption, through Mo Ran's regrets and understanding, and through Mo-zongshi's grief and love, it can be said that this character is one that you couldn't help but love. It's been so long, but his character really stood out to me from the many novels I read. This character is complex, with different versions of himself, but at the end of the day, it's still the person we love: our very own husky A-Ran.

#chen feiyu #arthur chen #2ha tag #2ha spoilers #ranwan #taxian jun #mo ran 1.0 #mo ran 2.0 #mo ran 0.5 #hao yi xing #immortality #chu wanning #mo weiyu #dumb husky and his white cat shizun #meatbun doesn't eat meat #luo yunxi #leo luo #hyx #hyx cast

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accursedkaleeshi · 2 years

Note

write the firewalls fic you Horde-playing coward /lh --Solstice

First of all, I played Forsaken so I don’t know how Horde representative they are anymore since I heard about that incident m’lady had with the tree. Unapologetic undead sympathizer, here.

Second of all I would never maintain enough focus to write a full fic like that, so I figured I could bang out a plot outline I got attached to while brainstorming for other people to write or enjoy.

Synopsis: In a moment of lucidity, Grievous takes stock of what technical systems he has access to & some things he does not. Knowing me, there would be like 5 pages right out the gate waxing poetic about his relationship with technology.

· Grievous noclips through the very particular firewalls put on his tracking systems specifically to keep him out of them because he was being nosy.

· The goths are alerted. There are consequences for his actions.

· Made to attend a Separatist HR meeting about it where they talk about him like he’s a new car & not even there. Wat Tambor is being weird. Grievous can’t tell if it is usual Wat Weird or not bc he has had some drugs forced upon him in Dooku & Poggle’s attempt to make him forget that he found the tracking signals.

o Sorry. Just. Imagined the Separatist council bitching in a conference room & Grievous is just standing behind Dooku with dilated pupils wishing he was dead. Wat Tambor keeps making eye contact that he is not registering as weird.

· Grievous was kind of used to being in altered states by then & he remembers much more than the Separatists even know about. Except for Dooku, they said all kinds of shit around him bc they thought of him as a droid. Wat Tambor dropped the name of the new encryption tech they were going to use.

· The general continues doing general things, playing dumb when it suits him. He is an Olympic gold medalist at playing dumb, maneuvering around xenophobes & the like that think he is far beneath them.

You could kind of do anything you wanted with the plot from here. A couple that would be fun were “GG succeeds in actually receiving all of the information from R2D2 in that one episode but decides to sit on some of the info for himself” or “GG decides to let witches turn Dooku into soup & strikes a deal with Ventress for Separatist Deserter shenanigans”. Most of my various trains of thought all contained Anakin being the only accessible code breaker. So here was my plot for that if you’re bored.

· The main characters manage to be nice enough to the gungans that they agree to help them make a Sombra Ult EMP bomb with their very limited & precious booma plasma. (I hate star wars bc I spent minutes of my life on the wiki looking for what the bombs were called just for them to be called boomas).

· I don’t remember exactly how the TCW Gungan vs Grievous episode happened bc we try not to think about it but that could actually be a great point of entry. Alternative episode timeline, things would occur wherein they have a hard time keeping Grievous locked down

o Bonus: Grievous would immediately pick up on Anakin & Padme & keep calling her his wife. Maybe if she gets a second alone w/ captive Grievous, Padme would lowkey chew him out about professionalism & he actually stops bc she’s obviously the smart one lol.

o Bonus bonus: I would get to write the gungans. Grievous deadpan threatens to fry Boss Nass with citrus & scallops.

· Anakin has a big brain comms jammer that reroutes all military comms in the are to one predetermined channel & is very proud of himself until he notices there is still a signal coming from Grievous & he’s like “Hey, wtf man, turn that off”

· Grievous is like “BOY do I look-?? I can’t. Turn it off yourself if you are so clever.”

· They try to be lowkey about shoving General goddamn Grievous in their ship but they can only circle awkwardly until the signal is cut. Because Dooku was definitely coming to pick up his dog.

· Grievous debated on whether he would rather deal with Dooku given at least two more levels of sheer hatred towards him freshly added or deal with, ugh, Jedi. Has a yolo-synapse misfire & tells Anakin about the firewall.

· Anakin is a huge nerd about it. He knows what it is & has been keeping up with whatever bits of public development he could find about this same encryption.

· Kenobi calls & is like “What is happening, why did I get a call from Jar Jar that was just wailing in terror??” in the middle of Anakin hacking the world on this old fucking monitor bc he wasn’t about to hook Grievous up directly to their ship.

· “Master! I don’t know why this smart-refrigerator gave you such a hard time. I caught him the first time out, with the gungan’s help! They gave us the blue bomb for getting rid of him.” Kenobi dies a little inside.

· “But uh, the Count is coming with back up & I am trying to turn off the good general’s parental lock before he gets to us. You gotta meet us somewhere. Everything is under control but holy kriff make sure you guys have something to contain this thing- GOT IT okay bye!”

· After much Scooby-doo level cat & mouse they finally manage to get Grievous more or less contained in the depths of some ancient temple structure with a lot of industrial grade cable & a lot of jedi. His faceplate is off whether via violence or for some other reason empathetic jedi reason that I want his faceplate to be off. for DRAMA

· The cool kids of the Jedi Council (& maybe Ki-adi Mundi just so I can roast him for no reason) make it a point to gather in the room with the pissed off cyborg. Very scared clone troopers keep having to control his limbs. (Except Cody, who has been waiting for this moment his whole life)

· Its hard for them to stay in the room bc he is just radiating anguished rage into the force like a sun. He’s feral & fucked up looking from previous shenanigans. He’s pissed off beyond words like a cornered animal.

· They’re all just kind of standing there trying to look hard when Yoda steps forward. Grievous wrenches forward with all the psi his pistons have & snatches the little bastard off the floor in both/all hands.

· They hit him with the EMP from hell. All the lights died & were replaced with half a dozen lightsabers pointed at Grievous, still clutching Yoda with a death grip, as he convulsed, froze, & then jolted again. His eyes lost some edge somewhere in that full body reset protocol

· Yoda wrapped his little gremlin hands around the edges of the back of his faceplate & is like “Super fucked up, you are. Tired, you are.” Grievous goes down.

· Kenobi, whom is very perturbed by this entire situation, is like “How did you do that? You think we haven’t tried that? He never even flinched before. We couldn’t pierce the anger with such suggestions.”

· Yoda troll shrug. “Disrupted perhaps, a mechanism was?”

· Anakin is helpful, “He said the tracking chip was in his head case. If we can destroy it, the Separatist’s goons can’t get the tracker back online. Honestly… shouldn’t we just put him out of his misery?”

· Half of the jedi are like “He do be fuckt up tho”. The rest are like “He has to have a trial or we forfeit our values”. But they all agreed he must have hella information. Anakin is suddenly urgent about it, realizing that if the Sith can wirelessly back access systems in Grievous they could potentially corrupt or wipe him.

· What if he self-destructs? Is that a thing, holy shit?? We did not think this through. As usual. We have to remove his wireless access point (das a wap omg). Anakin is the best mechanic on this little planet with only a few other flight crew clones that had supplied the industrial cables. He is not a doctor.

· The clones had meanwhile started taking limbs off of Grievous. They didn’t ask but none of the Jedi generals looked particularly happy but they were not in a hurry to stop them.

· Kenobi agreed to help Anakin, if not just to supervise. He’d frowned at the clones tossing limbs to the side. He couldn’t blame them, of course, Grievous could & would snuff out the life of countless clones even without the use of lightsabers. He supposed they weren’t exactly in a position to save any of the general’s dignity.

· “Alright, boys, my life is in your hands & hopefully not…his hands,” Anakin had said to the troopers. They had sort of rested Grievous at an angle where they figured he would be the least trouble & at which Anakin could stand & access the back of his head.

[To be continued if I keep on thinking about it]

#gently bullied into making content as all things should be #solstice ask #long post #sw fic #accursed!grievous

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kitkat1003 · 3 years

Text

Everything is Blue

Chapter 1: His pills, his hands, his jeans

MK just wants everyone in his life to be safe and happy, to never leave him. He'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

And, luckily for him, the voice in his head has the perfect plan to make that happen.

(Or, the author contemplates how slow the possession was for DBK in episode 10 and considers how MK would fall)

Ao3 link

This is a 13k monolith of a first chapter, but I'm very proud of how it turned out! I threw it together in 4 days with the help of my beta reader @imnotcameraready on tumblr, famous for the Chivalry is Dead sanders sides au. Give it a read, it's on Ao3 and tumbr! It even has a sequel! Seriously, she’s a great writer and edited this thing in like 2-3 hrs after I threw it at her. A godsend.

Anyway, happy reading!

When MK knocks the canisters off of DBK’s back, he thinks that’s the end of it. He wasn’t exactly given the rundown on how the cannisters worked, nor does he know why whatever was in them caused DBK to go crazy, but at the very least he only had to fight the one guy instead of the entire family. It was weird to fight with Red Son and Princess Iron Fan (shouldn't she be Queen, at this point? She's married to Demon Bull King, after all. Do they not have the paperwork?) but not unwelcome. He wishes they could be on the same side all of the time.

Because he was raised on stories of Monkey King’s adventures, which frequently discuss the Demon Bull Family, and he’s always thought they were interesting in those stories. He thinks Princess Iron Fan is super cool, even though she’s scary and actively wants him dead. Red Son is...well, he wasn’t what MK expected, but that isn’t exactly a bad thing. If anything, MK thought he’d be older. He doesn’t understand how demon aging works.

Tangents aside, he watches them disappear in a gust of wind and groans, flopping forward as he bemoans the fact that they left again, when he’d just beat them. Well, he hadn’t actually fought all three of them, this time. DBK had fought more people than he had.

He jumps as the cave begins to crumble from all the damage that it took from the fight, scrambling to find a way out, when—

A New Vessel?

A voice curls into his ear, a soft whisper.

Young. Powerful. Weak. Freedom.

He looks down, and he sees a white light sink into his skin. Cold seeps into his every pore, bone, and nerve, his muscles tensing as the temperature drops. His teeth chatter, and when he lets out a startled breath he sees white air drift in front of his face. The warmth of his powers—his Monkey King powers—is smothered, and soon all MK feels is the cold that keeps him in place, rooting him to the spot. It’s a miracle he’s even standing.

What is this?

What’s happening?

His eyes dart to the cannisters. The empty canisters. There was something in there, earlier, right? Where did it go?

Is this? Wher e it w e n t?

Wha t i s . . . ?

It’s hard to think. His thoughts are newly cracked ice upon a lake, pieces crashing slowly against each other and fracturing further, splintering into nothingness.

New Vessel. Rest.

His eyes slide shut, out of his control, as his consciousness, like everything else, is smothered by the chill.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up on the shoulder of the Monkey Mech, as the last rays of sun are streaking across the steadily darkening sky, like a lighthouse beam against the dark sea. He sits up, staring far into the horizon, as confusion pulls him out of the just woken up daze. How did he get here?

“MK?” He jumps, startled, and turns to realize that Mei is right next to him, a concerned smile on her face. He stares at her, trying to figure out why she’s here, how she got here. Then again, he doesn’t even know how he got here. He feels dizzy just trying to remember.

“You alright, kid?” Pigsy’s voice comes from his other side, and he forces himself not to jump, turning to look at his boss. Tang and Sandy are there too, and Sandy waves while Tang smiles in greeting mid slurp, bowl of noodles in hand.

“What happened?” he’s missing time. He defeated DBK, and then...then nothing. There’s a feeling of coldness, at the thought, but the memories don’t come.

“I found you on the ground after the Bull Clones all sort of fell apart. I figured you passed out after trouncing DBK, so I picked you up and got you out of there.” Mei doesn’t seem concerned, but MK is, just a little. He’s never passed out after using his powers; rather, using them often results in him getting an energy boost. He thinks back on it, trying to remember any time this has happened before. Macaque comes to mind but even then he wasn’t tired once his powers returned.

His ruminating on the ordeal is cut off by a bowl of noodles being shoved unceremoniously into his hands. He blinks down at it, and then turns to Pigsy

“Here, kid. Eat. You look pale, and skinny as ever. Can’t have my employee lookin’ half starved.” He smiles at Pigsy’s attempt to hide his soft side, picking up his chopsticks with a grin.

He eats, and the loud conversations of what they’d just accomplished arrests MK’s attention so that the questions about DBK, the cannisters, the voice that he swears he can hear in the back of his mind, fall away like sand in an hourglass, time never able to be reclaimed.

The sun finally vanishes and stars dot the sky like sequins on a gown. MK curls in on himself, hunched over the bowl a little, missing the sun's rays and the finished soup’s warmth.

He shivers, but there’s no breeze.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bonus of living in such a technologically advanced age is that city reconstruction is pretty fast. Hospitals are rebuilt first, people are brought in en masse. MK spends his time volunteering there, because noodle shops are low on the list of things to be rebuilt and he needs to be useful.

MK tries not to be too guilty about the wreckage, though most of it had occurred because he was late to stop DBK. He'd been kept at Flower Fruit Mountain for a few weeks because Monkey King was worried after the incident with Macaque. Wanted to be sure MK's training ethic wasn't too messed up, wanted to be certain Macaque hadn't left any lasting effects or impressions.

It was a punishment, MK knows, for being a two timing student and for making Monkey King have to deal with a demon enemy when he’s made it clear that he’s retired. Doesn't matter that they only ever trained in the morning and early afternoon, then spent the rest of the day hanging out. MK has watched Monkey King: The Animated Series fifty-three times now, most recently with Monkey King during the duration of his solitary confinement at Flower Fruit Mountain. They'd both piped up with commentary, MK about the production and animation, and Monkey King about the inaccuracies that MK filed away for his sketchbook.

But even so, it was a punishment for MK’s failings. Why else would Monkey King keep MK close, keep him away from his family and friends, keep MK away from the outside world?

It takes two and a half weeks after the battle with DBK for MK to go back to work delivering noodles. He'll sometimes buy extra and drop it off at a random hospital nearby, for the medical staff. They're overworked because of him, because he was away for so long.

He has to be better next time. He doesn't know when DBK will be back, doesn’t know how to sense him. Is he able to do that? Can he learn to sense when his enemies are nearby? That would solve a lot of problems, near rid him of worry. Maybe Monkey King knows?

That thought has him swinging by Flower Fruit Mountain on the weekend, with a promise to Pigsy to be home before midnight. MK is an adult only by age, after all; Pigsy still treats him like the 16 year old he found half dead outside his shop.

When he steps onto the mountain’s sand, though, he feels unwelcome.

The mystic energy that had beckoned him in the first time he’d arrived has shut its doors, like a silent way of saying

Leave.

Not a single monkey comes to greet him, but he can see their eyes, hidden in the trees. They regard him with suspicion. He frowns at them in confusion.

He hears a hiss in the back of his head and winces at the ensuing headache, stepping forward in hopes of pushing past the pain. Every step he takes makes the pounding in his head louder and more painful, and MK closes his eyes and focuses, reaching for the well of power he knows he has, the power that makes the staff feel lighter than air.

It’s like sticking his hand through a well of ice, and his wrist is paralyzed by the time his fingers brush that warmth, the light curling around his palm. Gold sparkles in his vision, and the unwelcome air starts to recede, as if the island recognizes him again. He heads in deeper, and lets out a breath as the headache ceases.

He doesn’t have to head in too deep, because Monkey King comes through the waterfall in a rare moment of MK’s mentor leaving the inner sanctum of the mountain. The waterfall itself moves like a curtain out of Monkey King’s way and the sight has MK focusing on that rather than the expression on Monkey King’s face, until he looks up.

Monkey King’s eyes are sharp, darting around, an expression MK only recognizes from the suspicion and distrust Monkey King gave Macaque. MK fidgets beneath that gaze, though it isn’t directed at him, uncomfortable. He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he? He wracks his brain for any new missteps, but finds very little. Still, his anxiety skyrockets by the second.

The look vanishes, though not completely, when Monkey King’s eyes catch on the sight of MK.

“Hey bud! Impromptu visit?” Monkey King greets.

MK tries not to shy away from the air of suspicion that colors Monkey King’s tone. Is MK really that untrustworthy? He did mess up badly by trusting Macaque, and Monkey King is right to distrust him. He bites his lip and tries to ignore the swell of guilt that sets like a stone in his stomach at the memory.

“Yeah, just-uh-just wanted to train, y’know? Don’t know when DBK is coming back.” He shrugs, and Monkey King nods, only half listening.

He still looks on edge. “Cool. You uh...you bring anyone with you?”

Now that’s concerning. MK scrambles to find a supposed intruder, hands gripping his staff tight in preparation for battle. “No? Unless-Oh no, is there someone here? Is it a demon guy?” What if he led a bad guy here? What if he messed up again?

He jumps as a monkey lands on his head, picking through MK’s hair in typical grooming fashion, and then Monkey King laughs, loud and almost relieved. MK turns back around to face him.

“Nah, must be my nerves. Maybe DBK left something on you, messed with my senses.” Monkey King waves a hand, nonchalant, and MK perks up in ease at the reminder.

“Oh! That’s actually why I’m here!” He takes careful steps forward, trying not to jostle the monkey on his head. “I was thinking-I didn’t know DBK was in the city and destroying stuff, and a lot of people got hurt. But! If I could sense him, like you can, I could stop him quicker! Right?” He’s bouncing on his toes, nervous and excited all at once, and Monkey King smiles down at him fondly.

“Sure, why not? If you’re up for some meditation, that is,” Monkey King turns, waving at MK to follow.

The monkey on MK’s head hops away, and MK sprints after his mentor with a wide grin. “Totally! I’m, like, the best at meditation. I’m like a meditation wizard!”

Monkey King laughs all the way to the training grounds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Training actually is easier than he expects. MK blusters a lot, but he isn’t dumb or unaware of his limits. Sitting still isn’t his strong suit, so sitting still while not being able to talk, tap, fidget, or do anything else other than think is basically torture.

But, when he gets into the meditative position with Monkey King, something clicks. A cool blanket settles on his shoulders, eases out the desire to move. It’s so easy to be still, and quiet.

Frozen.

“You weren’t kidding,” Monkey King tells him, and MK grins a little, face warmed by the praise. “Now, when you’re like this, you have to let every other sound and feeling fade out. Nothing else matters but the energies around you. Mine’s pretty easy to see cause, yknow,”

MK can practically see Monkey King scratching his chin and grinning with barely hidden pride. “I’m a pretty powerful guy. DBK would be similar, he’s got a pretty loud aura too. Now, just try it, kay?”

MK nods, and takes a deep breath. The sounds around him-bugs, monkeys jumping around and talking to one another, the wind, the ever present sound of something in his head—those all start to fade away.

Wait, what was that last one?

He lets them all go, and then forgets the feeling of the cold, the grass, the fabric touching his skin. Nothing exists except his own mind, and then.

He gets to see the bright light that is Monkey King. Golden and red and royal in its feel, it’s near blinding. He has to blink a few times to get used to its light.

“Woah,” he murmurs, and Monkey King opens one eye, before blinking both in surprise.

“Woah, already? You sure you haven’t done this before?” Monkey King crosses his arms over his chest, almost offended, and MK is reminded of how betrayed Monkey King looked when MK had shown off the skills he’d learned from Macaque.

“Nope! Maybe defeating DBK gave me a confidence boost?” He shrugs, and then stands, looking around. Monkey King’s expression sits in the back of his mind, and MK bites his lip. “Did I, uh, did I do something wrong? I didn’t…,” he trials off, worried.

“Maybe,” Monkey King mumbles in response to his first reply, mostly to himself. “Oh-no, no, you’re fine, bud. I think I’m just a little paranoid,” he laughs it off. MK is too busy glancing back towards town to process Monkey King’s pensive expression.

“I can see Mei! She’s...very green. Did she always have a dragon?” It’s curled around her, like a protective barrier, snarling and poised to strike.

Monkey King chuckles. “You’ve got yourself some powerful friends, kid. Not surprising. Like knows like, even when they don’t know what like is.” He puts a hand on MK’s shoulder, and then starts. “You’re freezing. It’s not that cold, is it?”

MK blinks a few times, and everything comes back, the colors and sounds and feelings of the world returning to normal. Monkey King keeps looking at him, as if MK is a puzzle he’s yet to solve.

“I don’t know, maybe? I’ve been feeling a bit chilly, lately. Maybe I’m coming down with something?” He’s been a bit stressed out, between Macaque and DBK and the reconstruction, and he’s heard stress can cause illnesses.

Monkey King sighs, after a moment, and scratches his head.

“I think I’m becoming an adult,” he says, like it’s a crime, and he shrugs again. “You’re probably fine. Just, take it easy the next few days, alright? Practice meditating at home, or when you’re on the job. When you’re as good as me, you can turn it on whenever you need to,” Monkey King puffs up with pride, and his tail swings back and forth leisurely. MK watches his tail more than he listens to what Monkey King is saying.

“Okay. Anything else for today?” It’s only been an hour or two, they have plenty of time.

Monkey King deliberates. Then, he grins, stepping back to position for MK’s inevitable first attack. “Tell you what. We’ll spar for a bit, and then you can bring up that new show you kept ranting about a few weeks ago. Kay?”

MK’s eyes sparkle.

“Heck yeah!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK’s muscles aren’t sore when he gets home. He actually lasted a couple minutes sparring this time around, and Monkey King had rewarded him with peach chips and an arm around MK’s shoulder as he eagerly pulled up the show he had dove into during his free time on the TV.

Pigsy sent him upstairs with a bowl of noodles and a stern reminder to sleep early so he wouldn’t be late for work. He finishes the noodles in record time and, once he has showered and put on his warmest pajamas, pulls out all of the blankets he can find. He just wants to be warm, just a little, even though it doesn’t make sense that he’s feeling this cold. He’s not tired, he doesn’t feel achy, his sinuses are clogged—none of the other symptoms of being sick are popping up, so why is he so cold?!

He’s practically buried in blankets by the time he feels comfortable enough to rest. For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t dream.

Things go back to normal, somewhat. There’s a niggling something in the back of his head, and there’s guilt and the ever present chill that has MK wearing long sleeved shirts, but otherwise MK falls back into his typical routine, which is nice. He missed his friends, between Macaque and DBK and training. It’s good to see them again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time he starts hearing the voice in his head, he’s getting yelled at by Pigsy.

It doesn’t happen as often, anymore. MK is scatterbrained, but he genuinely tries to do his best at work. Sometimes, he gets mixed up, because he’s only one kid and he’s never been good at focusing, no matter how hard he tries. It’s hard for his stressed out and ADHD ridden brain to remember whose order is whose, especially when it’s the dinner rush and he’s running behind.

Today was a particularly bad day. He’d accidentally given a customer an order with peanut oil in it, when they had an order specifically without peanuts due to their severe allergy. Pigsy had gotten a very angry phone call, and he passed that rage at MK, rightfully so.

MK can only apologize so much, so eventually he quiets and lets Pigsy let off steam. Luckily the customer hadn’t tried to sue, but MK knows the review Pigsy likely got was scathing. He deserves a bit of a tongue lashing for that, he thinks.

It was an honest mistake. Cruel, to yell at one so young. Why is he so mean?

The voice in the back of his head, new and different, nearly makes MK jump. Pigsy notices the change in MK’s expression and mistakes it for fear, and that gets him to quiet down. He dismisses MK with a sigh and a wave of his hand, and MK heads upstairs, feeling guilty and confused.

That voice….it didn’t sound like him, did it? When he tries to recall the sound, it mirrors his internal voice, but in the moment it seemed different.

It’s probably nothing. After all, if something was wrong with him, wouldn’t someone else have noticed by now? Wouldn’t he have noticed by now?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The voice keeps popping up at random intervals, random moments. When Mei gets annoyed at his ramblings. When Tang pushes him away when he’s begging for a story, because Tang is busy eating. When Pigsy yells at him for being late for work, for messing up. When Sandy awkwardly pushes him to leave because MK can’t take a hint, some days. When Monkey King looks at him with something akin to disappointment, exasperation.

They’re tired of you. They want you gone. They’re plotting against you. They’re going to betray you!

And, see, that would bother MK if he didn’t already know that. He knows people don’t like him, find him annoying. He knows he pushes too much, messes up a lot, misses social cues. He knows that he’s not a good enough successor. And that just makes him want to do better.

As for the whole betrayal thing, plotting against him, it makes sense. He isn’t offended or anything if they are, in fact he’d be more surprised if they weren’t, you know? He’s the Monkey King’s successor. He has all of the powers, has all of the strength and invincibility, with a caveat or two, but he’s also still just a teenager. If they aren’t worried that he could go rogue, mess up and decide to be selfish, then that’s stupidity on their part. Trusting him with anything is never a good idea, so knowing that, should he mess up, his family will be able to enact swift justice is a comfort rather than a worry.

And yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing, knowing just how annoying and useless he can be. He flinches more often at their glares, gets quieter. He doesn’t want to make them mad at him, he doesn’t want to lose them because he isn’t good enough. He just needs to focus, be better, help out more often. If he does that, hopefully they won’t leave.

The voice, after a few months or so, had backed off for a week. He’d felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and smiling was easier. Pigsy had seemingly relaxed at his good mood, and Mei seemed cheerier when they’d gone out to the arcades. He hadn’t realized he’d been worrying them.

Are you so sure they’ll stay?

A single phrase that pulls the rug out beneath MK’s feet. He knows he isn’t good enough, but everyone knows that he at least tries, right? That should endear them to him enough for him to prove he’s worth their time, right? He can be good enough, he can do better, he just needs time!

Not fast enough. They’ll get tired of you, and then they’ll leave.

The cold feeling in his chest feels so much heavier, as he panics in his room. He’s supposed to be asleep, but the blankets don’t do much anymore. He’s losing feeling in his fingers. He keeps fumbling with things, even the staff, and everyone is getting annoyed at him. And he’s so tired, all the time, and yet it’s so hard to sleep. He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, but he knows that whatever it is, it’s going to ruin the equilibrium he has between being a failure and being good enough to keep around.

What happens when he loses it all?

You can be better.

Can he?

Wouldn’t everyone love you if they were safe?

Well, he can imagine not having to worry about DBK would make them far less stressed out. If he can do that, then maybe they won’t get so easily annoyed at him. He knows stress can make people snappy, and there’s a lot to be stressed about, like the economy and death by demons.

You can make them safe.

How?

Listen to me.

And MK knows it’s weird to make a pact with your own mind, but he thinks he’s pretty good at following directions, so he nods, and doesn’t sleep at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The plan isn’t an easy one, and MK doesn’t know if he really wants to follow it. The words turn over and over in his head. He doesn’t know if they’re right or not.

Maybe it would be better, if he wasn’t so nice. He beats the bad guys, sure, but he isn’t that violent with them. They try to kill him, but it’s never personal. He’s the successor to Monkey King, it just makes sense that they’d go after him. He’s not upset, really!

Even though the calabash has him looking over his shoulder. They have earthquakes a lot, they live near a ring of active volcanoes, and each one puts him on edge, expecting a lie to turn his whole world apart. And the spider lady tried to eat his friends, tried to kill him. And Macaque nearly hurt Monkey King because MK let him get close. And DBK and Princess Iron Fan won’t stop, not until they get revenge or something.

Red Son is...he’s MK’s age. And MK has noticed just how much DBK and Princess Iron Fan belittle Red Son, and he’s their son. It’s too familiar for MK’s liking, and it makes the desire to bring Red Son to justice lessen. Maybe, if he got Red Son’s parents out of the way…

You could have anything you wanted.

All MK wants is for his friends and family to be happy.

This is how you’ll do it.

MK doesn’t give in. Not yet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK considers it when he goes over to see Sandy, one afternoon. They’re just doing some leisurely painting practice, nothing like painting the whole boat. After the whole clones thing, Sandy had learned that he should probably figure out which color he wants to stick with in the long run before asking for help in such a task. So, he asks MK to come over and brainstorm. You know, sketch out some ideas, test paint samples on different areas of the boat, see how it looks in light and dark.

MK also helps with the many litter boxes around the ship, as well as top up the water and food bowls all around. He gets appreciative nuzzles from the myriad cats around the barge, so it isn’t so bad. Then, he and Sandy will have tea, and Sandy will listen to MK ramble on about anything and everything until either Monkey King or Pigsy or Mei calls him to go do something (he gave Monkey King his number. Occasionally he will get an incomprehensible text. He’s pretty sure Monkey King has a Nokia phone).

Today, when they’re having tea, MK considers.

“Hey, Sandy?” He starts, more hesitant than when he’s ever asked the man a question before.

Sandy notices, and MK sees him soften his pose even more, looking warm and welcoming. “Yeah, MK?”

“Do you think I’m too soft on villains?”

Because he beats them, but he always lets them leave, lets them escape. They get to heal, recoup, and come back stronger every time, and people get hurt. MK doesn’t want to be the type to attack first, to never ask questions, but at this point there aren’t too many questions to ask.

“You’ve got a good heart, MK. You don’t have it in ya to go at ‘em too hard,” MK clenches his fist, his other hand gentle against the teacup lest he break it. He did that a few times when he first got his powers, unused to the extra strength.

“That kinda doesn’t answer my question,” MK tries not to say it through gritted teeth. He can feel his tea getting frigid, and bites back the burst of white air that would make Sandy ask questions.

He wouldn’t know how to answer questions about that, which is why he can’t deal with them. That’s the reason.

He’s saying you’re weak.

MK hides a grimace, and lets his heart ache silently. He sips the tea. It’s ice cold.

“What brought this on?” Sandy asks, instead of answering the question, which grates on MK’s nerves more than it should.

“I let DBK get too powerful,” he says. “He destroyed the city again, and people got hurt. If I’d just got rid of him before, those people would be okay.”

Sandy sighs, taking a sip of his tea. A cat hops into MK’s lap, curling up, but after a few frigid moments hops away. Apparently MK is too cold for its liking. He tries not to get offended by that, but the hot well of shame and longing persists. At least the feeling is warm.

“MK, you’re still learning. Mistakes are bound to happen. Those who got hurt will get better, and the city is rebuilt better than ever! You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders. And,” Sandy looks away, and suddenly he looks a lot older than MK thinks he is. “Honestly, being too harsh to make an enemy stop can feel good in the moment, but it does more harm than good, especially to the person who does the fighting.”

And MK leaves it at that, but thinks he doesn’t mind if it harms him, if it keeps everyone else safe.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Another story!” MK begs, spinning on the barstool. Pigsy always tells him not to, something about wearing down the seat joint, but at the same time Pigsy never really stops MK when he does it either, because MK only does it when he’s very excited and hyper.

Tang finishes his bowl of noodles with a chuckle, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose in a practiced motion that MK is oh so familiar with. MK taps the front of his sketchbook with his pencil impatiently.

“Alright, alright. Tell you what, I’ll tell you the story of the Baigujing, or White Bone Spirit,” Tang’s voice falls into storyteller mode, and MK is immediately entranced. Pigsy, from the kitchen, slams down a pan and groans.

“Not that one, Tang. I hate that one, you know that,” MK turns to his boss and is surprised to see an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. What in this story would Pigsy have to be embarrassed about?

“Hey, MK wants to know all the Monkey King stories. I’m not going to rob him of knowledge,” Tang argues back. He leans close to MK and whispers “Pigsy couldn’t sleep for a week after I told him this one.”

“That is not true!” Pigsy barks, indignant, and MK laughs.

Tang chuckles to himself, and Pigsy turns back to his work with a grumble. Right now is a lull in business, right after the lunch rush and before early dinners get called in, so MK is taking his break and Pigsy isn’t too upset by it. It’s just enough time for a story.

“Okay. The Baigujing was a shapeshifting demon, who saw Monkey King and his group of traveling companions as they passed by. Her eyes caught on the human monk, Tang Sanzang,” MK perks up.

“Hey, that’s like your name!” he points out, and both Tang and Pigsy look startled. Tang coughs, awkward.

“Yes-well-uh, it’s a family name,” he amends quickly. MK tilts his head to the side. “Anyway, she decided she wanted to taste the monk’s flesh. So, she disguised herself as a little girl, coming up to the group and offering them poisoned fruits. Because she was so powerful, only Monkey King could sense her treachery, and he hit her with his staff, seemingly killing her.”

MK gasps, doesn’t understand the fury that builds behind his eyes.

Tang glances at him, for a moment, and then jumps.

“MK? You okay?” He asks, and MK blinks.

“What-yeah! What happened next?” Tang looks him over, gaze catching on MK’s eyes, before he sighs and continues.

“The Monkey King’s companions were shocked and appalled. They thought he had killed an innocent girl! He tried to explain, but they didn’t believe him. The Monk buried the girl, who turned back into the spirit. She tried again, once as the supposed mother of the little girl, and then the grandfather. Monkey King managed to show her as a skeleton spirit during their last encounter, clearing his name, but then his companion, Bajie, told Sanzang that Monkey King made it up. Thus, Monkey King was abandoned, at least until the Monk was captured by a demon Wujing and Baijie couldn’t defeat, and Bajie had to apologize to bring him back,” Tang finishes, and MK’s face settles into a pout.

“Bajie’s a jerk!” He crosses his arms.

“He apologized,” Pigsy mumbles, from his place in the kitchen, where he slices scallions violently. “More than once. Not that it matters.”

“Monkey King didn’t exactly endear himself to his peers,” Tang amends. “Perhaps if he had been less full of himself at the time, they all could have gotten along better. But, all four grew to be better people by the end of their journey.”

MK finishes a sketch of the scenes Tang had described with a flourish, and he tilts his head to one side. “Kind of rude to just attack the lady, though, couldn’t he have tried to talk it out?” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to defend the demon, but she doesn’t seem too bad.

Tang makes a face.

“She wanted to eat a person, MK,” he says, and MK makes a face that mirror’s Tang’s expression.

“Right. Eugh, gross. Anyway, thanks Mr. Tang!” he hops off the barstool and puts back on his collared shirt, making sure his headband doesn’t slip down. “Any orders, Pigsy?”

Pigsy jerks his thumb to the few on the counter. MK picks them up, and continues on to work, the story sitting in the back of his mind. He stumbles a bit while walking. He doesn’t feel the key in his hand, his fingers numbed over time. He should be concerned, but everything else seems fine.

He kind of wishes he could have met the Baigujing. She doesn’t seem too bad, besides the people eating. Maybe they could have worked it out.

Who does Sun Wukong think he is, deciding to serve justice anyway he sees fit?

MK frowns and buttons up his shirt. His chest feels like ice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s so, so tired.

MK looks at himself in the mirror when he wakes up and his skin looks paler, his lips a little blue. He has bags under his eyes that vanish by the time he leaves the bathroom, a bottle of concealer and a tube of lipstick on the bathroom sink that he doesn’t remember buying.

His memory’s been growing spottier, too, missing minutes, hours. Mei talks to him about a high score he beat at the arcade and he nods along, no clue what she’s talking about but not wanting to worry her. He hasn’t gone to see Sandy in what feels like years, but gets a text from him thanking MK for taking care of the cats one afternoon. There are sketches in his sketchbook he doesn’t remember drawing, from stories Tang told him that he can’t remember hearing.

He’s lost feeling in his hands and feet. He’s dropped enough bowls of soup for Pigsy to go from mad to worried, and he shoves MK off to Flower Fruit Mountain because it’s warmer there, and MK always looks cold.

He stumbles when he hits sand, nearly bowls over with how much the island rejects him, how much it wants him not to be there. This is supposed to be a safe place, but the sand feels like needles and the wind slices at his face. Monkey King comes rushing out like a bat out of hell, teeth bared, but he sees MK, kneeling on the beach, and runs over.

“You okay, bud? You look…,” he doesn’t say awful, but MK knows he’s thinking it. MK looks awful, feels awful, is awful. And the solution to that is right there, waiting for him, but he doesn’t want to take it because he’s a coward. The voice in his head gave him an ironclad idea, a perfect plan, and he’s been ignoring it because he’s scared.

Weak little vessel.

The hiss in his ear makes him wince, and he trembles as Monkey King helps him up.

“Tired,” he manages, leaning against Monkey King because he hardly has the strength to stand.

“I can see that.” The try at levity has MK chuckling, but Monkey King is soft and warm and all MK wants to do is suck that warmth into himself, so he can stop being cold for one second. “Why don’t we head to my place and watch something. There’s always my show, right?”

MK nods, blinking slowly, and Monkey King takes a step forward. Suddenly, they’re at Monkey King’s house. When did they get there? Why are they here again?

He’s set on the couch.

“There’s something off about your aura, kid. Touch anything mystic or weird back at home?” Monkey King runs his fingers through MK’s hair, and MK leans into the touch. Warm. Safe.

He shakes his head, a full minute after the question is asked. Monkey King hums in thought.

“How do you even see auras?” MK mumbles, words slurring a bit as he talks. “Teach me?”

Monkey King’s hand stills, and MK whines a little, prompting his mentor to continue the motions.

“I already have, bud,” Monkey King whispers, more to himself than to MK. MK blinks in confusion. He doesn’t remember that.

Rest, Vessel.

The voice whispers so sweetly in his ear. It’s nice, sometimes. Mean other times. MK wonders if that’s his fault. Is he so bad that even his own head is mad at him? How can he be better? He’s trying so hard.

The TV is turned on. MK doesn’t register the sound, but the light makes him turn his head away. Monkey King turns down the brightness with his remote. Another monkey rests on top of MK for a moment, before jumping off. It shivers at the temperature of MK’s jacket, his skin, and moves over to Monkey King’s shoulder.

MK rests his head on Monkey King’s lap, and closes his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up in a dream. He stands on ice. Each step he takes is careful, lest he slip, and even still he stumbles and fumbles. He can see something in the distance.

“Hello?” he calls out, but the person doesn’t answer. The closer he gets, the more he can make them out. “Mei?”

It is her, but then her head drops, straight off of her neck.

“NO!” MK screams, running to her, and he stumbles and falls. His knees hit ice and they burn with the chill that sinks through his pants. He slides to her body, cradling it and her head as if he could put her back together with hope.

He turns, looking for a reason for this, and when he looks up, all of the adults in his life are standing around him, their faces covered in shadow. Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Monkey King—they’re all looking down on him.

“Look what you let happen,” Pigsy growls out.

“She’s dead,” Tang continues.

“You didn’t save her,” Sandy drones on.

“You let her die,” Monkey King spits.

“No…” MK breathes, and the tears build in his eyes and down his cheeks, freezing on his face. It burns.

You have a choice, vessel.

The figures of his friends vanish into mist, and MK curls his arms around himself. He misses the contact. He hates to be alone.

A woman wreathed in white kneels down in front of him. It hurts to look at her, and MK averts his gaze until she tilts up his chin so he can look nowhere else. Her face is ice cold, yet inviting. He can’t look away from her eyes.

Don’t you want them to stay? Don’t you want them to be safe?

MK nods, quickly. Of course that’s what he wants. More than anything, he wants that love, that adoration. He wants his family to be safe, to never leave.

You know what to do.

It feels like ice is creeping up his skin, encasing him in frigidity. She holds out his hand, and he can do nothing else but take it. The cold reaches its peak, and suddenly it’s warm. It burns, and yet the warmth is inviting, a relief after months of being so, so cold and confused and tired. He is past the point of cold, of freezing, of sub zero. He is warm. He is ready.

He is hers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up well rested, and the cold that had settled into him still feels like the burn that is a welcome respite from before. Monkey King is still asleep, and MK leaves him there, leaving the house and walking slowly out of the inner mountain.

He leaves footprints of ice where he steps. The monkeys watch, from the trees, trembling as their eyes gaze upon something inhuman, sitting in MK’s skin. MK has never felt better. He knows what to do now. He knows how to make things right.

The staff in his hands feels heavier, for a moment, but MK grips it tight and bends it to his will. He pogos out of the island with ease, letting the wind whip his hair back.

He hasn’t blinked in a while. He forgot he had to. He blinks because the wind makes his eyes sting, and touches the ground with a gentleness he didn’t know he could master.

He lets his eyes glow gold, searching. He remembers, now, how to look at auras. He remembers a lot of things now. It’s like the pressing weight of being weak for the sake of niceties has vanished, and now he is sharp and ready.

The only question is which of his enemies does he go after first? He needs to get all of them, keep them secure. It’s the only way the town, the city, will be safe.

The small fry first. We’ll work our way up to the demon king.

Right, that makes sense. MK grins to himself. It’s so nice to have someone constantly helping, constantly making sure he’s doing the right thing. He’s useless on his own, but give him a direction and he’ll follow it to the letter.

He can see gold and silver, in the distance. He forgets their names, at first, but their auras jog his memory. Yin and Jin.

They put him in the calabash. They weren’t good at it, but they were good enough. They’re demons. Dangerous. He needs to make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.

He heads to their home, not in a hurry. There’s no rush to the inevitable. Is this what self confidence is? The feeling of knowing you can do it, that you will do it, that no one can stop you? It feels very gratifying. He lets the glow in his eyes vanish, because he doesn’t want to startle everyone around him.

His phone buzzes. A text from Pigsy, demanding to know where he is. He responds with ‘Dealing with Monkie Kid stuff. Be back soon!’ and a string of emojis that Pigsy will find incomprehensible, before continuing on his trek.

He reaches the door, and hears a conversation.

“So, our plan has three steps. That’s an improvement,” Yin seems to be pacing, from what MK can hear.

“Step one, capture the monkie kid,” Jin pipes up, and MK fights back a laugh. “Step two, take the staff from him.”

As if they could. MK almost has to admire their tenacity.

“Step three, take over the world!” Yin finishes, and MK takes that as his cue to step in.

He knocks in the door. Polite. He still has manners, after all.

“Huh? Jin, did you order out for dinner again?” Yin barks out.

“We don’t have the money for that!” Is the response.

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Yin grumbles, moving to the door.

Here they come!

MK counts the steps Yin takes to the door, itching with anticipation.

“Hello?” Yin opens the door, and then jumps in surprise.

“Hi!” MK waves, and taps his staff on the ground.

There’s a thunk; not a thud of a body, but a thunk of a block of ice. MK pats the statue with a fond look. He’ll chip away the extra pieces later. This is his first attempt, it’s normal for it to be less precise. He can get better at it with practice. Jin turns, from his place at the desk, and his eyes widen when he sees his brother, frozen on the floor.

“Yin—what did you do?” Red eyes glow dangerously, and MK wonders if they would be more ferocious if he threatened one over the other. Jin gets up, teeth bared.

“This,” MK replies, tapping his staff on the ground.

Jin takes a step forward and freezes in place. Or, is frozen, MK supposes. He looks at the brothers, safely imprisoned, and wonders. Where is he going to put them? There’s not enough room here for all of his enemies to be placed. What’s a good place to set everything up?

The cave? The old villain hideout?

That’s perfect! After all, it would be the funniest form of irony, right? Turning a villain hideout to his base for his world saving plan. Gosh, he’s so smart. Because this is him, all him. He finally is smart enough to know what to do. He has to clear out the cave, first. It’s not far away, hidden beneath the sewers. There’s a path to it from the area where the staff used to lie.

He sets Yin and Jin next to each other, considering their poses. He thinks they look a little off, but he can fix that, right? He can fix anything, given enough time. That’s what all this is, fixing the problem of demons who’ve escaped because of DBK’s release. He nods to himself, and heads off. He has rocks to clear out, he has a cave to excavate.

But, he promised Pigsy that he’d be back soon. That stops him short. He can’t skip work!

This will make him far happier in the long run.

Still, what’s a few hours of work to make Pigsy happy now? He shakes off the one track mind and puts his staff away. The ice won’t melt fast (or at all) and he’s got time. The flash of cold he gets in response to that thought doesn’t inspire comfort, and he second guesses himself a few times, but he heads to the shop anyway.

“Hey Pigsy!” he waves, and Pigsy glances at him and jerks a thumb over to the pile of orders on the counter. “On it!”

MK swoops them up and sets them all on the delivery cart. Pigsy glances at him again, and then freezes.

“MK?” he asks.

MK turns, blinking a few times. “Yeah?” he responds, and Pigsy peers at him, almost suspicious.

MK tilts his head to the side in confusion. A part of him is glad that he has concealer on, because they don’t have the time to chat about MK’s new skin tone, not with all these orders. He watches Pigsy shiver, muttering something about the A/C acting up, before Pigsy shakes himself off and sets his hands on his hips.

“I thought-your eyes-nevermind. Get those orders out!” Pigsy barks, and MK stands at attention, giving Pigsy a salute.

“On it!” He promises, sliding out of the shop and hopping onto the delivery cart.

It only takes an hour, which is much faster than he usually is, but focus comes easy when he’s driven. The faster he gets this done they faster he gets to get back to his real work. The work that will make things better for everyone.

Right. Of course.

His shift ends when the store closes, and he’s gone before Pigsy can say anything about his work ethic or ask where MK has been or is going. He rushes to the construction site, dives below, rushing past the decaying plants where there once were flowers and a growing tree. Without Monkey King’s staff, there’s nothing making sure the plants live. MK frowns at the sight but stays focused on the task at hand.

Aim. The staff can be as large as a mountain if it needs to be. Crush what’s in your way.

He nods to himself, breaking through the rubble that has blocked off the tunnel. The ground shakes, the whole underground rumbles with power, and he hopes he’s not keeping anyone up. Then again, it’s not too bad if it’s just for a night, considering how many nights later he’s going to keep quiet. Everyone will be able to rest easy once he’s done.

He huffs a breath, and it comes out white. He should be concerned, but honestly it looks cool. He remembers to blink, because his eyes are starting to burn. He doesn’t know why he keeps forgetting.

He makes his way to the cavern, and uses ice to keep the ceiling up. Pillars rise, frost fills the spaces between rocks that would have cracked and splintered eventually. The floor remains untouched, save for when he fills in the cracks that could trip someone up.

He doesn’t remember when he got these ice powers. They seem new? Why hasn’t he used them before? How come Monkey King never told him about them?

Monkey King’s always had ice powers.

Has he? MK isn’t so sure about that.

You’re his successor, not a carbon copy. It makes sense you would have different powers than him.

Right. MK nods to himself. Now, time to get Yin and Jin! Carrying them is going to be a challenge.

It takes him an hour to get them both there, and another half hour to figure out where to put them. He has to consider DBK’s size. Wait, does he have to go and get the spider demon lady? He shivers at the thought, a deep well of terror sinking in his gut. Even as self assured as he is now, spiders still terrify him.

I can take care of that.

Really?

Yes. But first, rest.

Right. He needs to head back to his house. Pigsy will be worried if he doesn’t come home soon. He heads out of the construction site, skipping all the way home.

He barely sleeps.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The week is certainly a busy one. MK spends any time not with his friends searching, and he spends far less time with his friends, nowadays. The spider demon isn’t easy to find. He does manage to get some small fry lesser demons he hadn’t met before and now never will. He doesn’t need to meet people who will inevitably try to kill him and those around him. Far better to prevent the attack than deal with the aftermath thereof.

His collection of ice sculptures is growing. MK likes to spend time chipping away at the blocks to them more polished. It’s like sketching, in a way, or cleaning up a sketch. It also gives him an opportunity to practice a more precise use of his ice powers. He can make a mean ice chisel now, and he’s learned how to force the limbs of those frozen into the position he likes. Yin and Jin stand on top of each other, like they did in their introduction. The expressions on their faces aren’t what he likes, but he can cover it with frost and it’s like it was never there.

He meets up with Mei, one afternoon.

“Hey, MK!” She barrels into him, and immediately jumps back.

He reaches out, missing the contact, but she shakes out a shiver. “Dang, you’re cold!” She slugs him on the shoulder, and he laughs.

“I feel fine. Maybe you’re just being dramatic,” he shoots back, and she laughs with him, before her eyes glance at his face and she freezes. “What?”

“Your eyes,” she murmurs, all joking replaced with concern. He tilts his head to a side in confusion. “They’re blue?” She adds.

“Oh!” he says, and the words that come out of his mouth don’t sound like him at all. He doesn’t think he thought of them, and he doesn’t feel his lips move but the sound comes out anyway. “I’m trying out some contacts. Do you like them?” He bats his eyelashes at her, all in jest.

Her confusion melts into a smile. “I like your regular eye color better,” She admits. “But those look cool!”

She grabs him by his wrist, using his jacket as a buffer, and drags him to an arcade. Every machine he touches sticks a little, the joystick and button a tad frozen by his touch, and he doesn’t win a match by any means, but he doesn’t mind. Every time Mei leans close to him it feels like a victory. Even though he feels warm, at least a sort of freezer burn warmth, the people around him have pulled away. He’s too cold for them.

He needs contact.

Someone trips Mei as they’re running around the arcade. Her nose bleeds, and MK feels his hackles rising. Someone hurt his friend. A demon? A scan of the area reveals no such thing. Just a mean person. He can hear them snickering as they walk away.

Mei is more important than MK’s anger, so he takes her outside and finds some tissues, cleans her up. He takes her out to her favorite restaurant (not Pigsy’s, though they’ll never tell him that) and they end the night with a race around town. Her bike is an electric green streak, and he’ll never catch up, but he gives it his all before they finish outside his place.

“See ya later!” Mei still sounds a bit stuffed up from the nosebleed, and MK waves until she’s out of sight. When she disappears, his expression shutters, anger against her unrecognizable assailant returning in a flash.

He’s been getting rid of demons, but that’s not enough! Mei still got hurt, because people are unpredictable. He heads to his room and paces. How can he fix it, how can he make it better?

Maybe more than demons should be frozen.

MK stops in his tracks. Now, there’s an idea. But to freeze them forever, that seems like too much.

Not forever. Just until they know how to behave. Think of it as a pause button.

It would be nice if things just stopped for a moment. Then he could have all the time in the world to fix it. Once he gets the demons out of the way, he can do that. Then, once everyone learns to behave, they can come out. However long that takes.

He can be patient, for his friends. This is all for them, after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A day after that, and he’s found the Spider Demon’s lair. Every step he takes inside makes him shake, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take her. He’s so nervous, so scared.

I can help, remember? Just take a deep breath.

He takes a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

He closes his eyes.

He doesn’t open them, but they open anyway. Everything is washed in a soft layer of white, like frost, and his body moves but he doesn’t tell it to. The fear he felt is muted, and he settles into the comfort of its absence. He asked for this, right?

The spider demon—she wanted to be a Queen, right? MK hadn’t been really paying attention when she went on her rant, too petrified to listen—skitters out, and when she locks eyes with him, she smiles.

“Aww, is the little monkie boy back to play?” She giggles, and MK’s body throws the staff at her. She ducks with a yelp, and scrambles back. “Ooo, we’re rough, now? Seems you’re not so scared anymore,” She purrs, but he can hear the nervousness in her voice as the staff comes back to his hand.

“Iͥ ʷgͣˢoᶰtͤ ͮoͤvͬeˢrͨ ͣiͬtͤᵈ.” The sound comes out of his mouth, and it doesn’t sound much like MK at all. Huh. His body takes a step forward, and ice spreads out from beneath his foot. “Tͭuͧrͬᶰnˢs ͦoͧuͭtʸ,ͦ ͧyˢoͪuͦ'ͧˡrͩe ͪnͣoͮtͤ ᵇtͤhͤᶰeʷ ͦsͬcͬaͥrͤiͩesͣᵇtͦ ͧdͭemͫoͤn ͥoͫuᶠtͬ ͤtͤhere.”

The Spider Queen’s expression shifts, and she tries to run, but MK’s legs are faster. He watches himself move, jumping over stones and cliffs and any obstacle. The webs she tries to trap him in freeze, and he slides across them as if his feet were skates.

Eventually, he corners her. MK watches his body close in, and suddenly he’s back in control, staring her down. Satisfaction crawls up his back, a cold grin splitting his face in two.

“ʷWͪhͦˢoˢ'ͨsͣ ͬsͤcͩaᶰrͦʷed now?” He grins, and she screams.

Ice, it turns out, is a great muffler.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finding DBK’s hiding place is harder. MK locates it just outside the city limits, in an abandoned scrapyard. The perfect place to get parts for new bull clones and other random things Red Son can come up with.

He decides to go on the weekend, but as he prepares the night before Monkey King makes an appearance in his room.

“Hey, bud,” MK jumps at his arrival.

He must have been hiding as a bug or something, like when MK first found the staff.

“Monkey King!” He grins at his arrival, hopping up. “What’s the occasion? Is there something new you wanted to teach me? Is there a demon we have to fight?” We, not as in MK and Monkey King, but MK and himself. Because he’s not one, not really, and that’s fun! He hates being alone, after all.

“No, no,” Monkey King chuckles, overly fond. Right, MK hasn’t been to Flower Fruit Mountain for a week. “It’s just-you left pretty early, and, uh, you didn’t say anything about our next training sesh, you know? And, uhh, pretty sure you shouldn’t be slacking off on that.”

The half hearted scolding aside, MK almost thinks that Monkey King missed him. But that’s ridiculous.

“Well, you were sleeping when I got up, and I had to go to work,” The lie slips easily off of his tongue. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I left! Um, we’re busy tomorrow, but Sunday works for training, if that’s cool?” He rocks back and forth on his feet, ever excited.

“We’re? Who’s cooler than me to hang out with?” Monkey King reaches out to ruffle his hair, and MK can feel the shiver that jolts through the monkey’s body at the touch. Monkey King doesn’t comment on it, though.

“I promised Mei we’d hang out. It’s been a busy week at the shop, so I haven’t been able to party with her,” He doesn’t know where these lies are coming from.

Sometimes he talks and it’s not him at all. He should be concerned, but honestly he doesn’t mind if his other self takes the reigns. He fumbles over his words way too often to be annoyed that someone is smoothing him out.

Polished like an ice sculpture; MK thinks he could be beautiful if he was like that.

“Alright, fine. You and your friend can….do whatever it is kids do these days. Am I an adult—oh my god I’m an adult,” Monkey King flops back onto his nimbus cloud with a groan while MK giggles.

“Anyway, get some rest, bud. You look tired,” is the last thing Monkey King says to him.

“On it!” MK salutes, and Monkey King floats through the window and then rockets off. The papers in MK’s room all swirl from the blowback, and MK grabs one of the sketches that floats back down.

He doesn’t remember the last time he asked Tang for a story. The last time he sketched anything else at all. But, a hero doesn’t need hobbies so trivial.

He plans. Plans for how the city is going to look like, when he’s finished with it all. He doesn’t need to write down the steps to get there, he has his head voice for that, but the city. How it will look, when he’s done. He has to figure it out, draw it out, and pin it to the wall so he can look at it every morning and evening and remember why he’s doing this. So he sketches. Pins the piece to the wall.

Squints. He doesn’t like it.

Back to the drawing board.

His wall is covered by the time the sun rises, and MK still isn’t satisfied. But there is no time to waste. So, he picks up the outfit that feels all the more new—blue isn’t a color he expected to like, but blue is cold is safe is good is the burning warmth he needs, so he leaves the orange jacket and red headband hanging off of his desk chair.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he can barely tell the difference!

He is gone before Pigsy comes up with breakfast, before Pigsy calls for Tang to look at the mess MK left behind, enough drawings of the same thing for anyone to get the picture. He is gone before Pigsy and Tang investigate, speak in hushed tones, and call for Sandy, Mei, and eventually Monkey King.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Getting to the outskirts of town is the easy part. Infiltrating DBK’s base is a bit harder. It’s not heavily fortified, but MK thinks that’s more because he has never tried to infiltrate such a place. He doesn’t really attack first, he just protects. But that’s not good enough anymore, clearly. He can’t just be protective, he needs to be proactive.

He slides past the guards, freezes them for good measure. After all, they’re going to be made useless once he takes their leader down, so it’s not as if he’s wasting anything. There’s also always the chance they get wise, and MK doesn’t want his entrance ruined.

The inner sanctum of the base looks more like a house, made large to accommodate DBK’s figure. There are pictures on the wall, from painted portraits to black and white to color photos. MK supposes that the Demon Bull Family has been around long enough to have portraits taken in all sorts of mediums. He wonders if they have statues, a shrine? He bites back a giggle at the thought.

The booming sound of cloven footsteps alerts MK to DBK’s arrival, though by the sounds of two voices approaching, Princess Iron Fan must be with him.

“Red Son has been pulling away from us,” the gravel in DBK’s voice is soft, somehow. MK listens in with interest. What is it they are doing to their son now?

“You tried to kill him. He can’t help but take it personally,” is Princess Iron Fan’s reply. “He barely knows you, and he’s young. He’ll grow out of it,” she waves a hand, unconcerned.

MK glares at them. The temperature in the hallway drops, until Princess Iron Fan shivers.

“Darling, I thought this house had a heating function?” Princess Iron fan curls her arms around herself, and DBK picks her up and sets her on his shoulder, suddenly on guard.

“It does, the boy made it so,” he growls, sniffing around for intruders. MK decides to let himself be known.

“Hi!” he says as he pops out from around the corner.

“Noodle boy?” Princess Iron Fan questions.

“Little Thief,” DBK growls.

“Actually, I go by MK,” he corrects cheerily. “But, anyway, could you hold still? This will be harder if you move,” He twirls his staff casually. DBK growls, and Princess Iron Fan places a hand on the side of his face to silence him.

“MK,” Princess Iron Fan starts, with a forced air of politeness. “We are in your debt for helping save my husband. However, if you attack us, we will have no choice but to fight back, and we will not be kind.”

She grins, self assured, and continues “And you know what happened the last time you tried to fight me.”

Fire. Volcanoes. She had tried to kill him and, more importantly, she had made his friends cry. But things have changed, haven’t they?

MK giggles. The sound echoes, and the hallway gets colder. Frost crawls over the walls, and MK looks up with eyes that glow.

“Aͣcͨtͭuͧaͣˡlˡlʸy,ͥ Iͭ ͪtͥᶰhᵏiʸnͦkͧ ˢyͪoͦuͧˡ'ͩllͬ ͧᶰfiͥᶠnʸdͦ ͧmᵏeᶰ ͦʷtʷoͪ ͣbͭˢeᵍ ͦhͦaͩrᶠdͦeͬrʸ ͦtͧo ᶰbͦeͭatͭ ͪtͣhͭaʸnͦ ͧbeͨfͣᶰorͤˢeͨᵃᵖᵉ,” He jumps up with a smile, and sprints forward.

Something dawns on her face, and Princess Iron Fan stands.

“Darling, we need to run,” She says, quickly, but MK jumps and bounces off of the walls and is eye to eye with her before she can explain.

She doesn’t even have time to grab her fan.

DBK jumps back as the block of ice slides off his shoulder and he roars.

“Father?!” MK hears Red Son’s voice from afar and ignores that for now.

“I will tear you to pieces you ingrate!” DBK shouts, and MK laughs.

“ʸYͦoͧu ͨcͦoͧˡuͩᶰlͭdnͤ'ͮtͤᶰ ˢeͭvͦᵖenͫ ͤbʷeͪaͤᶰt ͥmʷeͣˢ wͥᶰhʸeͦnͧ ͬI ͪwͤaͣsͩnʸ'ͦtͧ ᶠtͦrͦˡying!” he shouts back, dodging a blow that sinks DBK’s fist in the wall.

The frost slides from the wall to DBK’s arm, gluing him there. He fires the gun on his other arm, and MK dodges.

“Nͥiͩcͥeͦ ͭshot!” He dances around the room.

DBK takes a step in the wrong direction, and slips on the ice cube that is his wife, dropping to the ground. MK wastes no time, and DBK’s roar is silenced abruptly.

Finally.

“Noodle Boy! What on earth are you doing?!” Red Son looks rather steamed, if the smoke coming off of him is any indication.

“Hi, Red Son! I was just taking care of your parents,” MK gestures to the popsicles on the floor. Red Son stares, face a mixture of confusion and horror, and MK barrels toward him. “Now they can’t be mean to you anymore. You can make fun inventions and not have to be a mean guy all the time!” Honestly, if anything, Red Son should be thanking MK, but MK doesn’t do this for thanks. He takes a few hairs and blows on them, and his clones start to work on moving the new additions to his cave.

“You—” Red Son is at a loss for words before landing on “Give me back my parents!”

See, MK was worried about that. He would likely have responded the same, when he first left his parents.

“But I worked hard to get them out of the way!” MK pouts. “But, I get it. You don’t understand. You just need to ᵍcͤoͭolͦ ͧdͭowͦᶠn,ͦ ͧoͬkʷaͣʸy?” MK reaches out, places a hand on Red Son’s shoulder before he can be stopped, and Red Son is going to freeze too, when—

Red Son explodes, and MK burns.

It’s not enough to melt the ice, no, but MK is thrown back against the wall, eyes wide.

The chill in his bones vanishes with a screech, and all he can hear is screaming. For a moment, something rises within him.

This is wrong.

He shouldn’t be doing this, he can’t be.

He isn’t a bad person, he isn’t cruel. He wouldn’t do this.

He needs to stop, he needs to—

And then the flames vanish, and so does Red Son, and the cold slips back into place with brutal efficiency. MK blinks, tries to remember where he is. Right, DBK and Princess Iron Fan. He got them! Great.

His clones have been destroyed in the blaze, so he makes some new ones, and heads back to base.

A shame he couldn’t get Red Son to understand, but they all will soon enough.

Good job, vessel.

MK feels warm. It burns.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s deliberating back at his hideout about where his newest statues should go when he hears a sharp gasp from behind him. He turns, and Mei is looking at him with something that looks like horror, but that can’t be right. Why would she be horrified by something so beautiful?

“MK?” she starts, cautiously. “What…happened to you? You look really bad, why are you wearing blue?”

“I like the color!” he asserts. “And I’m fine!”

She purses her lips, and then tries again.

“Um...MK. What is this?” She points to the frozen menagerie behind him.

MK does not pout, even though he feels like he should.

“You ruined the surprise,” he grumbles, arms crossed over his chest. “I stopped all the bad guys! See?” he gestures to them. “Now they can’t hurt anyone.”

There’s a pause, before Mei can catch up, where MK asks, “Hey, do you think people would want to put them in a museum?” He taps his chin with his index finger, deliberating.

“How did you...does Monkey King have powers like this?” she tries, a third time.

“No, I don’t,” MK jumps at the sound of Monkey King’s voice. Monkey King floats down on his cloud, hopping off and looking at MK with an air of suspicion. “Kid, how are you doing this? Why are you doing this?”

“‘Cause they hurt you guys,” MK has been itching for a chance to explain, to get someone to understand. “And the-my head voice gave me the idea. Once these guys are all gone, everyone can be safe, and no one will leave!”

“Head voice?” Pigsy comes from behind a pillar. “MK, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the voice in your head that sounds like you?” He explains. “It-it told me how to do it. And I’m not a carbon copy of Monkey King, it makes sense that I’d have a few new powers, you know?”

“No,” Tang appears, from somewhere.

When did all of his friends get here? He can see Sandy, Mo in tow on his shoulder, peeking in.

“You shouldn’t have any deviations. Maybe your transformations would be different, but to go so far as to have ice powers?” Tang pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, and his glasses flash. “That shouldn’t be possible, given Monkey King’s power set.”

“What’s going on, kid?” Sandy’s voice is very soft, as he approaches, just like when they were on the boat.

“Nothing!” MK’s voice is cheery as ever. “I’m just fixing things, okay? I think you need to ˢcͪhͧiͭllͧᵖ ʷoͧʲuͥᶰtᵍ,” he reaches forward, and Sandy and Mo are ice.

Mei screams.

“What?” MK looks on, bewildered, as his friends stare at him in horror. “He’ll be fine! It doesn’t hurt. I’ve been freezing for ages! It gets warm after a while.”

His eyes glow, and Tang pales.

“Baigujing,” he breathes, and MK turns to him.

“What about her?” he asks, and Tang puts a hand to his mouth, biting his lip and glancing between the rest of the group and MK, unsure.

“Bud,” Monkey King takes a few cautious steps toward MK, as if MK were a cornered animal. His feet slip a little on the ice, but not enough to stop his careful approach. His tail is poised and very still, not so much as a twitch from it. “I think you’re feeling a bit...um, scrambled right now. Why don’t you hand me the staff, and we can talk about this?” He gives MK a soft smile, but MK frowns.

If he takes the staff you can’t finish your work! Does he think you don’t deserve it anymore?

“But I need it,” he responds, simple and to the point. “It’s mine.” Right? Because Monkey King gave it to him. Gifts can’t be taken back, right? MK’s still worthy, right?

Monkey King takes a deep breath, like he’s biting back a retort.

“Preeeeetty sure I let you borrow it. ‘S called ‘Monkey King’s Staff’ for a reason, bud. C’mon.”

Another step forward. MK grips the staff tighter.

“MK, please,” Tang calls from his other side.

Don’t let him take it!

“We need you to let go!” Mei’s voice hits his ears.

They’re all lying to you!

“Kid-I-c’mon, just let ‘em have it and we can go home,” Pigsy’s voice breaks, and MK feels like he’s going to break with it.

Is he even going to let you keep your home?!

Monkey King is close enough that MK can feel the heat of his power emanating off of him, of the great Sun Wukong. His paws are soft and somehow even warmer than his power as he curls them around MK’s grip on the staff.

They don’t understand! They’re going to abandon you!

“That’s it, easy does it,” Relief colors Monkey King’s tone, and he smiles at MK as if MK were the sun. It’s too soft to be true. “Just hand it over, and we’ll make sure everything’s okay, alright?”

He starts to tug, pulling the staff out of MK’s grip ever so gently, and MK flinches as the voice rings loud in his ear.

YOU NEED IT DON’T LET HIM TAKE IT FROM YOU HE’LL RUIN EVERYTHING—

“It’s MͫIͥᶰNͤE!” MK shouts, and he slams the side of it into Monkey King’s stomach and launches his mentor across the room.

Monkey King crashes into the wall, groaning as he pushes away the falling rubble. MK’s eyes are wild.

“It’s mine, and you can’t have it! I need it!” Ice crawls over his right hand, cementing his grip.

Tang sees it, takes a step back, and turns to the two horrified bystanders.

“Run!” he shouts, and Mei bolts. Pigsy stares, motioning for Tang to run, but Tang is too close to MK to do anything.

“What’d you do that for?” MK frowns, lowering a hand onto Tang’s shoulder. Pigsy makes a choked sound.

“Go! Bajie, get out of here!” Tang shouts, far more desperate than MK expected. Why is everyone so terrified? This is just a misunderstanding.

“Okay, tͭiͦmͦeˡ ͣoͭuͤt ͭfͦorͬ ͧᶰyˢoͣᶰuᶻᵃᶰᵍ,” MK pats Tang’s shoulder once, and Tang is rooted to the spot. MK freezes him slower, because Tang isn’t strong, merely smart. And if he does it slow, then he doesn’t have to chisel away the extra later.

Mei comes roaring in on her bike, and she picks up Pigsy by the back of his chef’s coat, throws him on the back of her bike, and zooms off.

“Tang!” Pigsy screams, but his voice gets farther and farther away.

“What’s wrong?” MK is so confused. He looks to Monkey King, who is just sitting there on his cloud, horrified.

“Sun Wukong,” Tang says, voice hard. The ice is up to his chest. “Get out of here. Bajie is going to be a wreck after this.”

“Can you make sense!” MK throws his hands up, tired of being ignored, talked over, walked over. “Or at least ˢsͪtͧoͭp ͧᵖtalking!” And Tang goes silent, frozen.

MK turns back to Monkey King, and finds that his mentor has vanished.

Well, that won’t do.

After them!

MK jumps onto a disk of ice and slides across stone, feet still as the ice barrels over any obstacle, leading him past the dead sliver of a great mountain and up onto the streets. Mei just has made her way to ground level, aided up by Monkey King, and MK zeroes in on them.

They pass by cars, and MK ignores the blaring horns as he slides over city streets. The ice trailing behind him makes cars swerve out of control, but he needs to get to his friends. They have to understand. This is all for them!

The ice shoots forward, and he gets closer and closer, until Mei’s back wheel hits frost and the back of the bike jerks one way, the front the other. The bike slips onto its side with immediacy, and Pigsy and Mei go sprawling as Mei’s bike falls apart, skidding across the ice.

Oh no.

“Mei!” he runs to her side.

She groans, her bike suit torn. He doesn’t even think about Pigsy at the moment, too worried about his best friend to think of the other person he hurt. Plus, Pigsy’s a full grown adult, and MK has never seen Pigsy hurt like Mei is, so it doesn’t even register that Pigsy could be as injured as she is. Her left arm has a large patch of skin that’s been burnt off by the road, and her legs are bleeding from various places. Thankfully, she was wearing a helmet, so MK doesn’t have to worry about something so serious.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you alright? Where does it hurt? I’m sorry!”

Some ice might help with the pain.

Right, right, icing the wound always helps. He goes to make some, the power swirling in his hand, when a horn from a car blares, making him wince.

Gosh, humans. They’re so annoying! If they could just stay out of the way, because he needs to fix this, that’d be great.

Remember the pause button?

It seems very inviting. MK nods.

Right. A pause button.

“Just a sec, Mei,” he leaves her groaning on the ground, turning to face the city.

He slams his staff into the ground.

Ice shoots out in a wild dash. It crawls over and into everything. Cars, buildings, people—everything freezes. He hears some screams, and watches people try and run for the hills, but the cold is faster. It billows down the streets, kicking up a white haze that is almost impossible to see through, that the pedestrians tripping on ice and solidifying get lost in, but it’s a snowy sheen that MK sees through perfectly. He can see the polished figures of buildings, glistening beneath their ice, the little mounds that must be people beneath the thick layer of ice.

It’s all so pristine. So perfect.

Finally.

MK is glad for the quiet. With him and himself in his head, it’s hard to deal with outside noise. He just needed a moment of calm, to get to the task at hand.

The task at hand...Mei!

“Mei, are you—” he stops. Mei and Pigsy aren’t there.

His eyes search for them, and he can see Monkey King hurriedly pulling them up onto his cloud. “Wait!”

Monkey King looks at him, and MK’s face is pleading. He just wants to do right. Why don’t they understand? Once he fixes it all, everyone will be happy. Can’t they wait?

“Sorry, bud,” Monkey King says.

MK doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. A rush of panic tries to grip his brain, something that was once so familiar, something that was once so him, but it disappears in MK’s desperation to act.

The cloud zooms off. He throws a hand out, running after it.

“NO!”

This is just like his dream. At the edge of the city, a wall of ice rises. It sparkles in the light of the setting sun, and MK raises it higher, and higher, as Monkey King and Mei and Pigsy and everyone he cares about most gets farther and farther away.

Monkey King punches through the ice, and they disappear into the horizon.

MK drops to his knees. They land hard on the frozen ground.

“You said they wouldn’t leave,” he whimpers out, crying because it hurts and he doesn’t know exactly why.

It’s more than just regular pain. Something warm and different and yet familiar stings. Something knows this isn’t right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go! If this was the right thing to do, why would everyone leave?

“I have to stop!” The words are forced out of his mouth.

MK doesn’t know when the words are him and when the words are something else. He doesn’t know who he is. What’s right? What’s wrong? How can he tell?

He’s just been listening to his own head, but his own head is arguing with itself.

He slams his free fist into his temple, to try and make things settle.

Chains drag him to the ground, leaving him stuck.

You are doing everything just right.

The voice is soft in one ear, but on the other side MK hears No! On repeat. No, this isn’t right. You froze good people. Innocent people! You froze Tang and Sandy! You made Pigsy cry! You hurt Mei!

They don’t understand yet. Monkey King is notoriously stubborn. He isn’t ready for his successor to pass him yet. All you have to do is wait for them to come back. And they will.

It’s harder and harder to hear the argument against this.

The voice sounds so self assured. The warmth that doesn’t burn gets weaker and weaker, like a fire out of kindling.

He wheezes, and tears turn to snowflakes on his skin. He chokes on his own breath. It comes out white and fogs his vision, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Everyone’s gone.

He’s alone.

This can’t be right.

It is. You just haven’t done enough yet.

That, MK understands. The need to do more, be more. It makes far more sense that he hasn’t done enough, than anything else.

“They’ll come back?” He asks, and his voice sounds so loud in the quiet. He feels a hand brush his hair back. He leans into the touch, but it’s gone.

Of course.

MK stands. The chains vanish, and he smiles.

“Okay then! Let’s get to work!”

He hasn’t let go of the staff in ages. He doesn’t think he can. He turns to the mess he’d made in his rush job, the frozen city’s statue. He has to fix that, it’s unsightly! Mei and Pigsy and Monkey King won’t like a mess.

As he plans, as he hopes, he feels a smile in the back of his head. It feels like a snowball to his skull, chilling and yet a comfort, somehow.

Wonderful work, Vessel. We’re going to do great things together.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #possession au #monkie kid mk #sun wukong #monkie kid monkey king #monkie kid mei #monkie kid red son #red son #kitkat1003

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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Okay well then!!!! I am very glad and excited to share my most recent idea I had while rereading Yeti Hunting again!! And the new Incubus one too!! They're almost exactly the same idea, just different flavors I suppose. Also Joe is trans in both the ideas but that's less to do with the ideas themself and more to do with just me projecting on him sgfjgsjfhsjdh

Okay so it's like a reverse au so Stern is some kind of cryptid, but as far as Barclay knows they're just two good human friends (but maybe they wanna be a little more than friends...). And then one day Joseph goes into heat and tells Barclay he's sick to try to keep him away, but Barclay being the sweetest man alive goes to his house with fresh soup to take care of him and Joe seems really panicked about Bar being there and tries to make him leave but he is CLEARLY unwell and Barclay is very stubborn when it comes to helping people he cares about and so he plants himself down on the couch and says he's not leaving until Joe tells him what's wrong and Stern tries to hold onto his human form but it's taking too much focus and energy and whoops Barclay finds out his friend not human and currently in distress and so horny it hurts and if he can help his friend and fuck him at the same time, well then that's just a win all around (bonus points if at the end Barclay is kinda sad because he thinks Joe just needed somone to fuck him, not nessacarry Barclay, but Joe frantically assures him that he is SUPER into him and if it were anyone else he would have kicked them the hell out and probably skipped town bc he couldn't trust anyone else with a secret like this).

Or!! (This is where the incubus part comes in) Joe is an incubus and currently hiding out in his human disguise at the Amnesty lodge and it's going fine for a while, but then he starts talking to and getting to know the really hot chef. And they slowly start growing closer and closer. And maybe in this world, the power an Incubus gets from sex depends just as much on their desires as it does the human's. And this has never been an issue for Stern before, but now he's falling for Barclay and wants him and no one else so he's getting less and less energy from his encounters and Barclay is worried about him because he doesn't seem like himself anymore. Almost as if he's... dulled? When Barclay looks at him the blue of his eyes seem muted and his general aura seems... gray. And it all comes to ahead when Joe finally stops insisting he's fine and after dinner one night he asks if he can speak to Barclay privately, and he comes clean about everything and Barclay, while a little shocked, rolls with it very well and cups Joe's face in his hands and kisses him softly and it like,,, you should have come to me sooner, I'd do anything for you,,, and yeah it's really tender,,,,

Okay that's it I'm sorry it's so long and probably incoherent. I tried to use at least little formatting to make it better but it's a tumblr mobile ask, I'm not sure even the new paragraphs will translate over. The general idea is that they're close friends and Stern is Not Human and Barclay finds out under less than ideal circumstances :3 I know these are far from original or unique but I just wanted to share my ideas with you bc you're the inspiration for a good 70% of my private writings, but if you like them enough and ever feel like doing something with them that'd be cool ;3

Here you go! I went with scenario one. Content Note: some “mating” talk and mild subdrop at the end (which is, of course, taken care of)

The two canvas bags are ready to burst. Barclay peers into them, contemplating the addition of another box of tea, in case Joseph doesn’t like the other two. Mama was cagey when he asked, he doesn’t know what’s ailing the other man, only that he’s sick.

Joseph manages Amnesty Lodge, where Barclays’ been a cook for the last six months. Barclay was initially wary of him; his cosmopolitan bearing and clean-cut appearance is so out of place in the rustic mountain town of Kepler that the logical explanation is he’s one of those city types who fell on hard times and got stuck here.

It took less than forty-eight hours for him to prove Barclay wrong. Polite and polished, efficient and stunningly good in a crisis, Joseph handles the day to day chaos of the lodge while Mama, the owner, took care of the big picture stuff. His friendly greetings and consistent compliments about Barclays cooking gradually turned to afternoons spent at a table with his work so they could talk during lulls in business.

When Joseph leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up, laughing as he helped Barclay tidy the kitchen, the cook rushed headlong into his crush and never looked back. He regularly dreams of blue eyes and a movie-star face, finds his day doesn’t really start until Joseph pokes his head in to say good morning.

He’s been without that greeting for two days now. Joseph never misses work, and his sudden absence worried Barclay enough that he checked with Mama to be sure the manager was okay.

“Joe’s fine big fella, just under the weather is all.”

The one time Barclay got sick, Joseph brought him tea and soup himself, checked in on him every hour, and--if Barclay’s fever addled brain is to be trusted--fluffed his pillows. It’s the least Barclay can do to drop off snacks and be sure his friend is okay.

It’s a short drive to cabin Joseph calls home; he used to live at the Lodge, but as it got more crowded, he moved to his own space so those who needed a cheap, safe place to stay could have one.

His knock on the door is answered by a brisk, “Who is it?”

“Barclay. I, uh, I brought you a get-well gift.”

Joseph opens the door to the cabin and to an entire new universe of fantasies. His normally slicked-back hair falls, relaxed, across his forehead, his loosely tied blue robe shows a tantalizing V of skin, and the dreamy-sleepy expression makes his face even more kissable.

“Hi.” Joseph takes a step forward, taking the bags and bringing his face achingly close to Barclays’. Then he freezes, reversing into the house, “I, um, it was very sweet of you to bring all this. But you need to go.” He takes another step back, then doubles over with a groan.

Barclay hurries across the threshold, setting the bags on the floor and steadying him over to the couch.

“Fuck, do you need me to get you like a heat pack, or a puke bucket?”

“No, no I just need to lay down, and for you to g-” he shudders, curling in on himself and tipping sideways.

“Joseph, you’re really sick, I’m not gonna just leave you here. I mean, fuck, what if it’s your appendix or something?” He sits down next to the shaking man, rubbing his back comfortingly.

“It’s not, I promise. Oh lord” he whines, looks at Barclay with frantic eyes, “I hope you can keep a secret.”

“Of course I can. Whatever I can do to help, I want to.”

“Careful with those promises, big guy.” The nickname comes out in a growl as Joseph stands, undoing his wristwatch.

“Oh FUCK!” Barclay scrambles back, almost falling over the arm of the couch.

There’s a monster where Joseph just was. Years ago Barclay saw a Maned Wolf in a zoo, and he’d swear that’s what he’s looking at now were it not for several glaring issues. First, it’s standing comfortably on two legs. It’s paws are more like hands, able to hold the watch and adjust the collar of its shirt. And he’s never seen a wolf, maned or otherwise, with spines down its back and a whip-like tail.

The creature runs a clawed hand through the fur at the top of it’s head, the way Joseph does when he’s nervous, “So. I can’t tell you everything, at least not right now. What I can tell you is that this is the form I was born into, somewhere far away from earth.”

“Okay.” Barclays brain grinds like a broken ice machine as a familiar voice speaks to him from a fanged mouth.

“I, um, I’m what humans call a Chupacabra. To answer the usual questions: no, I’ve never been to Puerto Rico. No, I don’t eat goats. And no, I’m not going to eat you.”

“Okay.” His heart is still racing, but not from fear, which is the most confusing was this could have gone.

Pointed ears flick, worried, “Are you in shock?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He nods as Joseph sits next to him with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I took the next few days off to avoid this exact scenario. I figured I wouldn’t see you, but forgot how thoughtful and caring you are.” Claws gently stroke Barclays hair, “my wonderful Barclay.”

He’s about to bring his hand up, cup those strange fingers to his cheek and whisper “always”, when Joseph pulls away.

“I, I’m sorry. Again. I always get too handsy when I’m in heat. That’s the second worst side-effect, after the fact that being in my disguise is untenable when I’m in the thick of it. It’s like wearing a wet, wool sweater made of nausea.”

“....Hold on, you had to take time off work because you’re horny?”

“Almost. Heat doesn’t come that often for me, which means whenever it happens, it’s intense. I have a hard time eating or sleeping, I can’t focus, and I spend most of the week masturbating. Which is not as fun as it sounds; I’m not even at the height of the damn thing and last night I humped a pillow on the kitchen floor while dinner reheated.”

Barclay groans, tries to hide it when the ears swivel his way, “Uh, guess I’m glad I brought you lots of food so you remember to eat. Shoulda, uh, put some lube or something in there as well, huh?”

Joseph chuckles, “My nose tells me you put molasses cookies in there, so I’ll let it slide.”

“There anything else I can do to help?”

“Well…” he shakes his head, “never mind, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Do what?”

“My heat is more manageable when I have a partner. Fucking someone relieves things more effectively than masturbation does. But I can’t-”

“I can help with that.” The offer is out before his brain catches up with his mouth.

“Barclay, my kind have a very, um, involved mode of, um, well, I guess you foreplay. As, as much as I’d love for you to be my mate” he winces, “see, that’s what I mean. I say things like that, most of them not even possible given the fact you and I can’t reproduce.”

“Uh, does it help if I say hearing you call me that is really hot?”

Blue eyes widen, and a tail traces up Barclays leg, “Only if you mean it.”

“I do.”

A narrow, long tongue flicks into the air, “In that case, big guy, how about we have a little planning session over dinner?”

-------------------------------------------------

Barclay parks in the driveway, next to Josephs’ sedan. He heads past the house and down a short slope to a creek, the twilight sky casting the forest in eerie grey-blue. There’s a tire swing leftover from a previous resident, and he idly pushes it back and forth as he waits for the game to start.

“It’s like hide and seek” Joseph wipes his mouth, cleans cookie crumbs from the table, “We start outside, move inside, and you go as long as you can without me catching you. After all, I want a mate who can hold his own.”

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket to warm them. A yip bounces out from the trees behind him. When he turns, he quickly spots glinting eyes and bared fangs hidden in the undergrowth.

Sprinting towards the cabin, he realizes Joseph laid a trap for him from the start; by asking him to begin at the creek, he’s forcing him to run uphill to safety, slowing him down. He lets his lizard-brain, concerned only with the fact that something dangerous is chasing him, take over and drive his legs as fast as they’ll go. The back door is locked, he double-checked that on the way down, so he doesn’t waste his time trying it, races to the front of the cabin and slams the door shut just as something huge rounds the corner after him.

The nob jiggles, his pursuer testing the lock and discovering the thrown deadbolt. Barclay uses those few seconds to secure the windows on the first floor, throws his jacket down into the cellar as a failsafe, and bolts up to the bedroom. His hammering heart insists that locking that door is not enough, so he crawls into the closet and shuts himself up among the meticulously organized shirts and slacks. It’s not enough space for him to stand, so he tucks his knees to his chest and waits.

“What happens if I, like, completely outsmart you.”

A toothy smile, “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

Each of the downstairs windows rattle in turn. Then the scratching starts, claws on wood coming closer with each breath. Joseph is climbing the wall up to the bedroom window that Barclay knows for a motherfucking fact he did not secure.

A shuff as the window slides open, the cryptid landing with remarkable stealth on the bedroom floor. Barclay tracks him by the light coming under the closet door, his mouth covered so his breathing won’t give him away. The shadow pauses, sniffs, and then the bedroom door opens and shuts. Barclay’s not moving until he hears the front door do the same.

Just as his legs start to protest being smushed up against his chest, the door reopens. Snuffling signals Joseph closing in, and an instant later the only light coming in is from the far ends of the door. Slowly, his last line of defense rolls to the right, revealing the creature crouching on the other side.

“Not a bad effort, big guy. You actually confused me for a minute with the scent trail of your coat downstairs.” Joseph reaches for him and Barclay, remembering that he’s not supposed to give up until he’s pinned, leans away.

“That’s how my mate wants to play?”

“J-just following your instructions, babe.”

An intrigued purr, “I guess you are. All the more reason you’re the perfect partner for me.”

The words Barclays dreamed of hearing for months distract from the claws closing around his ankles. He lets out an undignified yelp when Joseph pulls his legs straight out and drags him out of the closet. Once he’s free of the forest of clothing, the cryptid picks him up and drops him on the bed. He moans and Joseph snickers, joining him on the bedspread.

“Fuck, Joseph, no one’s ever been able to do that before and it’s so, so fucking hot.” He arches his back and shifts his limbs to help Joseph undress him.

“It’s because you’re the perfect size; big and strong, large enough to give me a decent cuddle when I’m human, but still small enough to be an easily subdued mate.” He gets the humans’ jeans and boxers off, hesitates, and then tosses them on the floor with a pained expression, “I’ll fold those later.”

“Gonna hold you to that. Also, wanna point out that it wasn’t that easy to subdue me.”

Joseph nuzzles his cheek, claws caressing his thighs, “Barclay, I was jogging while you were sprinting.”

“You coulda caught me right awaAAy ohwhatthefuck.” Tingling heat glides down his throat as Joseph licks a stripe along the skin, “fuck, it, it feels like the time I tried hot wax.”

The cryptid sits up slightly to look at him, “Is that a...good thing?”

“Fuck yeah. I really fucking liked it but it was fucking murder with the chest hair.”

Joseph runs his claws through the hair in question, “I like it.”

“I know, I saw you eyeing me that one time I used the springs at the lodge.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Joseph leans back down, curling his tongue around Barclays left nipple. The sensation makes him buck his hips, which Joseph correctly takes as a signal for more. He moves to the other side, takes his time teasing it and licking down the sensitive center of Barclays chest. Noses his stomach, nips his sides, and slides the alien heat of his tongue into the crease of his thighs.

“Y’know I, ohfuck, I assumed from all that talk yesterday you’d get right to fucking me.”

Joseph kisses the inside of one thigh, “I, um, I thought about it, almost ripped your jeans to shreds and took you on the floor. But I wanted to be sure you were turned on. You’re not just a warm body, Barclay. You’re my mate. That means your pleasure matters as much as mine.” He licks up Barclays’ cock, hardened from rubbing against the soft fur of his belly, and sighs, “and what a mate.”

“Fuck” he squeezes his eyes closed because if we watches that mouth saying everything he wants to hear in between sucking his dick, he’ll cum in ten seconds flat.

A final lick to the tip and then Joseph hops off the bed, “Did you prep the way I told you?”

“Uhhuh.”

“Good.” Joseph returns, sets several items he can’t see by his feet, “that’ll make things easier. First things first” he produces a cock cage, sliding it into place, “these are a few things I smuggled over from my original home. This is enchanted, so it can go on an erect cock but still prevent the wearer from cumming until it’s removed.”

“That’s just cruel, babe.” He sits up on his elbows to kiss Josephs snout, earning him a pleased yip.

“If you cum too fast, I won’t be able to properly breed you.” He winces again, “sorry, I sound like one of Indrids romance novels.”

“Again, gorgeous, I find it really fucking hot.”

The spines on Joseph’s back ripple, “You think I’m gorgeous? Like this?”

“I do. Also kinda scary, but in a hot way.” Now it’s his turn to cringe, “see? I sound like cheap porn written by an eighth grader when I’m horny. The way you sound is fine.”

Joseph lovebites his ear, then retrieves the other two items from the end of the bed.

“And how does this look, big guy?”

“Like it’s either going to kill me or make me cum like a dozen times.” He furrows his brow at the strap-on. It’s narrower than the average human dick, with a pointed, slightly up-curved tip. What’s worrying him are the spikes.

The entire shaft is coated in short protrusions. They don’t end in points, thank god, but if they’re at all stiff this is going to be miserable.

“Here” Joseph waves him over, “touch it.” He guides his fingers along one side and the spines bend fluidly under his touch, and now all he wants to know is how they feel inside him. Joseph also moans, bucking his hips so the toy slides along Barclays palm.

“It’s, ohlord, also enchanted so that the wearer feels it as an extension of their body and can cum with it. Also, please decide in the next thirty seconds whether you want to be on your back or your stomach.” Amber pre-cum drips down Barclay’s fingers.

“Stomach is better for meWHOAH, ohfuck, okay we’re doing this.” Now flipped on his belly, he raises his ass. The cryptid kneads it appreciatively before holding it open and sliding his cock in with once, graceful thrust.

He bottoms out with a groan, which is more articulate than Barclay is managing to be as the spines rub and glide inside him, finding every patch of nerves, every angle to drag against in just the right way. Joseph hauls him onto his knees and then he’s off, growls and yips filling the as he fucks him. Barclay only just registers the bed banging into the wall so forcefully the headboard is cracking when claws sink into his hips and Joseph pulls him all the way onto his cock and pulses into him.

“Holy fuck that was fast.”

“I, I didn’t jack off once today. Didn’t want to waste it, wanted to save it all for my perfect mate.” He’s thrusting again, not as hard but twice as fast, “shit, you feel so good, big guy, please tell me Mama okayed your time off for tomorrow.”

“Wh-why are we talkingAHnnn, about this now?”

Hot breath tickles his ear, “Because now that I know what’s like to cum in you, I don’t plan on cumming anywhere else for the next day and a half.”

“Ohfuckme” Barclay groans happily into the pillows as Joseph empties into him, cries out when his tail whips across his calf.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“No, no it felt good, fucking-A babe every fucking part of you is amazing.”

The cryptid whines, pleased, and wiggles his hips, giving Barclay an idea.

“That’s, uh, that’s why I want you for my mate, because you’re so fucking goo-mmph” his face presses harder into the pillows as Joseph pins his shoulders down and fucks into him, snarling “yes” over and over again. When he finishes this time he hunches over, nipping Barclay’ shoulders and neck.

“You catch on quick, big guy.”

“Thanks, babe. Uh, are we gonna switch it up at any point or am I staying like this until tomorrow night?”

“No, we can fuck however we want. After” a fuzzy hand rubs circles on Barclay’s abdomen, “I’ve cum in you enough times that I can feel it from out here.”

Barclay moans, tightening around him as his hips snap once more, already imagining being full and fucked out. Maybe it’ll take all night. He’ll be limp if it does, but right now nothing sounds better than melting into the bed while Joseph fucks his ass like it belongs to him.

After forty-five minutes, his cock is aching, his mind holds only thoughts of how good it feels to do as Joseph tells him, and he’s been cum in so many times that wet, obscene sounds accompany the cryptids thrusts. Said sounds pale in comparison to Josephs’ voice, which is spinning increasingly impossible scenarios the longer they’re in bed.

“I hope they take after you.” Joseph murmurs.

Barclay just manages to turn his head, “Who?”

A muzzle playfully nudges his cheek, “Our kids.”

His heart seizes and shakes at the words; they both know that’s not what will happen. Joseph warned him he might say things like this, said he could tell him to knock it off if need be.

“Maybe they’ll, ahnn, they’ll have big, beautiful brown eyes and bigger hearts, just like you.”

He doesn’t want him to stop. Every thrust hits deeper, every point where their skin meets buzzes brighter when he talks like this.

“H-hope at least one looks like you, blue eyes.”

A guttural whine, tingling heat as Joseph laps tenderly at the back of his neck, “We’ll just have to see, usually we’re born in threes so, soOH, oh I’m close, shitshit”

“That’s it babe, fill me up, c’mon, c’mon I want it so bad, Joseph, baby, please.”

There’s a howltrill as cum spurts into him, Joseph panting as he smooths his hand around Barclays side.

“There, that’s done it.”

Barclay whimpers as he pulls out, his mind and body pulled tight, certain that if he doesn’t cum soon he’ll propose marriage instead and that’ll be a fucking disaster.

Joseph carefully rolls him over and unlocks the cage, “Do you want to cum?”

“More than anything. Oh!” he’s unprepared for Joseph to sink down on his cock, “oh fuck, yeah, wanna cum so bad babe please, I’ll be so good, be such a good mate if you just let me cum in y-fuuuck” A trio of sensations levels him as he climaxes; his vision whites out, his hips jerk more violently than they ever have before, and a line of cum drips down his leg.

Somewhere far away, Joseph says, “I think we’ve earned a break.”

He nods, body limp as the cryptid climbs off him. Then he’s falling, spinning helplessly down in a pit of realizations.

Joseph didn’t mean any of those things he said. His friend needed a mate and Barclay, lovesick fool he is, was eager for a chance to play pretend that he didn’t think about what would happen when the game ended. Even if Joseph keeps him here through tomorrow, the next time they meet at the Lodge he’ll act like nothing happened.

Fuck, Barclay didn’t even get to kiss him during all this, and now he’ll never get the chance, never, nevernever-

“Shit, I should have put a towel or a spare blanket down. Now I’ll have to strip the bed before I can--Barclay? Oh, oh baby, what’s wrong?” A hand pets his face and he turns away from it, refusing to open his eyes. Joseph takes his hand instead, “it’s okay, I’m here, whatever you need I’ll-”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. You can’t give me what I need, it isn’t your fault I, I know I’m not really your partner and I, I…” he sniffles, wipes his palm under his eye.

“Barclay, look at me please.”

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes just in time to see Joseph dip down and kiss him. It’s awkward, their mouths not made to fit together, but he savors it all the same because it’s Joseph, his Joseph, kissing him like he hoped he would.

“My heat can make me say some ridiculous things. What it can’t do is make me feel affection where none exists. In fact, the reason I wasn’t able to keep my disguise on yesterday is because being near you meant being near the mate I wanted most in the world. I, um, suspected you might share my feelings, but I didn’t want our first interaction as boyfriend to be me asking if you wanted to spend a day or so with me while I was in a sex haze. But then you offered to help, and I wanted it so badly that I barreled ahead without making sure you understood that this was me declaring my feelings. I’m sorry.”

Barclay climbs into his lap, not caring about the mess he makes in the process. The cryptid laughs, hugs him close.

“I, I shoulda said something sooner too. Not that I regret how we spent our first date.” He kisses Josephs chin.

“Me neither, though I don’t think it quite counts.” He rubs their foreheads together, “can your boyfriend take you out to dinner on Friday?”

Barclay grins, looks into loving, blue eyes, “Yeah, he can.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #reverse!AU #reverse AU #monster march

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