#doppelganger au

[sea-lanterns]

I just thought milkman Jean and Navia fighting over you?? 🤔🤤

THE TWO BLONDE WOMEN OF GENSHIN WHO WORK FOR THE SAME MILK COMPANY APPARENTLY 😳

Milkman! Jean can hit me from the back while I suck on Milkman! Navia’s tits from the front… they can take turns feeding me their special “milk” while they argue over whose “milk” tastes better. Spoiler alert: They both taste amazing.

Jean’s is thicker and more creamier, while Navia’s is sweeter and more thin <3

[doppelneer]

Wip of a Sketchbook page that's au related I'm working on. Might go into some of the darker horror things further down... (Trust me, it gets worse and maybe bad ending related. Yes, this au may have multiple endings now)

I enjoy the unsteady vertigo feeling it's giving so far, like a boat rocking back and forth violently in a storm.

I love pen and ink... probably the medium I am most comfortable with and so good for horror vibes.

[neonthewrite]

At Odds with Himself

Today's prompt, "Dream", gave me some trouble. I decided to cheat a little, by writing about an AU that originated in a dream that @creatorofuniverses had, none other than the Doppelganger AU. This AU is characterized by there being two very different versions of Colfax, one a wizard and one a thief. They get along about as well as you'd expect a strong personality like Colfax to get along with himself.

~~~

Coco blinked rapidly, wavered on his feet. “Was that a dizzy spell, wizard? Really?!” he griped, putting his hands over his eyes as he tried to regain his sense of equilibrium. He knew the wizard had a number of tricks up his sleeves, but it was odd to have magic, real magic, actually turned on him. Sure, he’d been pushing the guy’s buttons since arriving in this strange world, but he didn’t know what he’d expected when Colfax finally snapped and aimed a spell his way.

Colfax’s words echoed in his head in that eerie mimic of Coco’s own voice, words the wizard had invented himself for his spellcasting. A faint fog around him dissipated as the spell finished its course. Wisps sank into the well worn stones of the floor.

Stones that, Coco realized, were a lot wider than he remembered. In fact, there was suddenly a lot more space around him than he remembered there being in the wizard’s tower room. The nearest shelf, before only a foot or two away, was several paces from him. He tilted his head back, taking in the suddenly castle-like height of a simple bookshelf.

Whirling, he found other vaguely familiar furniture standing so much bigger than he remembered. He hadn’t been in this renaissance faire world all that long, but he had spent plenty of time all over the castle. He knew what the place looked like. The workbench, the charts on the wall, the window, they weren’t supposed to loom so high overhead. He was like a toy discarded on the floor.

Coco’s heart jumped to his throat. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. The world had warped beyond recognition in the most frightening way. He turned his head this way and that, taking in details he never thought he’d see. As recognition crept up on him, he began to think he might have underestimated this crazy world.

“No way …”

“Don’t act so surprised,” a voice, familiar but not, rumbled overhead like a mild storm. “You were repeatedly warned that you’d face consequences if you kept trying to steal from me.”

Coco turned to the source of that voice, tilting his head back to meet the eyes of a man who stood as a giant over him. The face was normally a mirror of his own, a bizarre double that had grown up in fantasy land instead of the world Coco knew. He was the reason Coco needed to go by a nickname around here‒all to keep anyone from confusing him for the socially-inept wizard that spent so much time playing around with magic.

It was hard not to tease a guy like that, a version of himself that had never bothered to learn how to read people. Had never learned how to hold a basic conversation. He had never needed to blend in, to steal and lie just to keep his family fed. Really, Coco nicking a few golden coins here, some odd little magical implements there, were just practice. Teasing. A fun way to pass the time while stuck with an insufferable mirror of himself.

Now, though, he had a couple regrets. He held up his hands as if calming an agitated horse. “Come now, Colfax. Fella. Isn’t this a little drastic?”

Colfax narrowed his eyes. It was a chilling expression, full of all the intensity Coco might expect out of a Colfax, especially one who never bothered learning to tone it down. His heart fluttered in spite of himself.

The tower that was Colfax-the-wizard shifted, took a step forward. Coco’s gaze dropped to the footstep that covered all too much ground towards him. Seeing a giant coming his way cut right through his thoughts, sent an instinct for survival jolting through him more powerfully than any police chase.

He pivoted on one foot, already aiming himself for the door. It stood impossibly tall, too many paces away, but there was more than enough space beneath it to escape if Coco could just make it that far.

After that … no ideas leapt to mind just yet, but for now the important part was to get away from himself.

Behind him, the giant wizard started muttering something else in those made up words of his. Coco’s heart did a flip and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something was coming, and he had no intent of waiting around for it. On some kind of instinct, he juked to the side and did a quick somersault, changing his trajectory for springing back to his feet. To his side, he saw something bright and quick dive into the floor where he’d been an instant before.

Wizard-Colfax wasn’t discouraged. He took a few more steps. Coco felt them, each and every one, through the floor. They rumbled beneath his frantic steps, so casual compared to him running for his life.

“C-Colfax! Can’t we talk about this?!” Coco called, still making his bid for the door. It was his only chance if the wizard had moved on to slinging spells around.

“Tried talking,” Colfax replied, his voice cold. “You refused to listen.”

He wasn’t precisely wrong. Coco swore and shook his head as he ran. He wasn’t about to convince the guy of anything now. He had happily bothered him, tried to find ways to get under his skin. And it had finally worked.

More spell words echoed overhead. Coco’s chest tightened and he prepared to make another dive out of the way. Just as he did, though, a thick fog washed over the floor, overtaking him with more speed than any vapor should be able to. He stumbled. The room around him was lost to his sight and he grabbed the cowl that hung loose around his neck, frantic hands holding it over his face just in case the gas was dangerous.

A scoff rang out overhead. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m not poisoning you.” Colfax’s voice no longer came from behind him. It came from somewhere to the side. Coco glanced uselessly in that direction before turning the other way to get some distance.

Not three paces later, he tripped on something that appeared as if from nowhere in the fog. With a yelp, Coco toppled forward, hands shooting out to catch himself. Rather than stone, however, they met a pliant surface, something almost leathery. It radiated heat, and while the fog retreated as fast as it had rolled in, he came to the horrifying realization of what it was.

A hand. A hand so similar and so different from his own. Coco stared in shock at a lifeline longer than his torso, felt a heavy pulse beneath his own hands.

The vertigo of falling onto a giant hand was soon replaced by real vertigo as that hand shot into the air. Coco tried to flinch back into motion, only for the fingers and thumb of that hand to spring closed on him as if released from a trap. He was pinned all too securely in a fist as the floor dropped away.

Colfax-the-wizard stood from his kneel, dark eyes fixed dispassionately on Coco. Coco could only twist enough to catch that look in the corner of his eyes, and his body shuddered as the helplessness really sank in under his skin. “You got me,” he said, his voice a lot weaker than he hoped for. “I know when I’m beat. I’ll take the bounce, if you just put me right I’ll leave you to it‒”

“And let you go terrorize the rest of the castle?” Colfax cut him off. He turned and the dizzying speed of his pivot cut off any protests. “No, you need some time to yourself.”

He approached his workbench, scattered with all kinds of magic implements, crystals and tools and herbs and the like. Coco imagined being pinned like a bug on a board and squirmed while his stomach did flips. “What are you plannin’, mind if I ask?”

“I don’t mind,” Colfax dismissed, stopping before the workbench. For a long couple seconds, he scanned his various supplies before grabbing a jar from the back of the bench. A few fragments of leaves remained at the bottom, and when he maneuvered the large cork out of the top a faint but bitter smell almost immediately filtered out.

Coco thrashed, but couldn’t do a thing about Colfax holding that open jar underneath where he was suspended in his grip. Before dropping him in, though, Colfax nodded at him. “This will keep you out of trouble. Be grateful it isn’t the dungeons.”

“Grateful?!” Coco sputtered. “C’mon, Colfax, don’t‒” his voice gave way for a yelp as the grip around him released and he felt, for a small instant, the terror of freefall. Even knowing the jar was there to catch him, he couldn’t help but twist in fear, reaching to catch something, anything. And then he landed in a heap on a glass floor, the real floor looming so far below him.

When he looked up, Colfax was already fixing the large cork in place. More of those spell words got past the cork and some kind of magic seeped into the jar, and then no sound reached him at all.

[geesebumps-stuff]

Doppelganger Au

Doppelganger au

This au could take place in the Reunion au (where Slappy stays with Stine and Hannah). 

If one Slappy wasn't enough for Stine, now there are other Slappys to deal with. However, they have other things in mind.

Slappy is living with Stine and Hannah and is trying to be on his best behavior. And he tries very hard, but he can’t help pulling pranks. Stine knows but tells him not to go too overboard with them. Slappy promises that he will restraint himself (although it was a bit hard for him if he wants to stay out of the book, he’s going to have to)

One day Champ was asking Stine about Goosebumps merchandise, and everyone became curious about how much stuff there was. Stine then agrees to show them everything as he pulls many boxes from the attic and lets everyone look over them. Slappy was not surprised to see a lot of merch of himself since he is the mascot. (He does mentally apologize to Curly, though, since they were good friends before) Slappy, however, did not exactly like some things.

Champ pulled out some VHS, and they agreed to watch some of the TV series. As they were comparing the books to the TV series, Slappy was not a fan of the TV version of him with his looks and thought that he was off. Stine explained that there were some things he didn’t have control over, but it didn’t make Slappy feel better. (Along with the fact that he looks like a certain redhaired puppet)

Hannah moved on with the comics, and Slappy couldn't believe he could get smaller than he was, but he thought this one was a clown. Also, why did his hair change to black with red eyes? It made no sense to him.

Finally, Zach brought out the rest of the merch with bags and figures. As they were messing around with some of them, they then found a bag with something heavy. Stine pulls it out and reveals it to everyone. He calls it the “original” Slappy.

Slappy stared at the version for a while and realized why it was called original. This one has blue eyes, freckles, and chipped lips. This was how he was supposed to look, the book version, but instead, he has brown eyes, no freckles, and more chipped parts. 

Slappy had a small identity crisis but made sure no one noticed. However, Stine did. After noticing Slappy's discomfort, Stine decided to put all the stuff away. 

Slappy then went to his room and straight to the window. He has a habit of going on the roof when he wants to be alone but still being outside and messing around with his magic. As he was leaning on an antenna, he heard thunder. A few seconds later, he heard his papá from his window ask if he was ok and to come back inside before it rains. Slappy tells him that he’s fine and he’ll be out a bit longer. Stine sighs but goes back in. 

A minute later, as Slappy decided to get up, lighting struck the antenna and Slappy. Slappy then fell off the roof into the garden. Stine quickly reappears through the window, asking if he’s okay, and says next time, listen to him. But goes and grabs Slappy and puts him on his bed. Since he got accidentally electrocuted while using magic, he also almost caused a blackout.

The next day, strange things happen. Things being misplaced, destroyed, or disappeared. It's being blamed on Slappy as he argues that he didn't do it. Slappy then forces Champ to help him, and they agree that something weird is happening when Champ knows that Slappy isn't doing anything. 

They both thought there should be no more monsters, but now they weren't sure, as Champ thought it might be one of Slappy’s siblings. Slappy wasn't thrilled with the idea, but another puppet would be a possible choice. 

They looked everywhere for clues, but they got nothing until they looked outside and saw a footprint in the mud. They noticed it was small but a bit bigger than Slappy's and the fact that no child had been here. Now they know it might be a puppet. The last place they look is the attic. As they look around the attic, they both get knocked out. Slappy and Champ wake up as they are tied up, but as Slappy was going to teleport out, he was stopped by Slappy....Slappy....and Slappy?

The three different versions of Slappy were standing right in front of him. The black-haired one, the red-haired one, and the one Slappy was confused the most, the blue-eyed one. 

Slappy was trying to figure out how it was possible to have more Slappys come to life without the typewriter. He concluded that when he messed with his magic on the roof and got electrocuted, it accidentally turned the others to life. 

They started trying to recruit Slappy to join them and get rid of Stine and Hannah so they could roam free. But Slappy doesn't want to. He had just returned to being part of the family again and didn’t want to ruin this. He told the others to go away and that he wanted nothing to do with knockoffs. The other Slappys did not like being called knockoffs and decided to get rid of him too. 

Meanwhile, Zach, who found a box on the table, decided to put it back in the attic. As he climbed up the ladder, he heard the other voices. He slowly looked as he hid behind boxes and was surprised to see what was happening. He managed to ambush the other Slappys and rescued the two. They ran to Zach’s house and told everyone not to go into Stine’s house. 

(I’ll be honest. I had a hard time with naming each Slappy thing and how it would work, so plz bear with me. I was too excited about a Slappy war that I forgot that we gave them names like TV Slappy and Book Slappy, and then I had no idea how this was going to work. ) 

The other Slappys are called TV Slappy and Comic Slappy, but when it got to Blue eye Slappy, he argues that he's the original Slappy and calls himself Book Slappy. They (Stine, Hannah, Zach, Champ) first call him OG Slappy, but it was true that Slappy took many forms in the book, so there's no original look now, but Stine admitted that he wanted to do a movie with him later on and for their sake, they just called him Movie Slappy. 

They thought about how to get the other back to their original place. For Comic Slappy, they needed his comic book that was in the attic. Zach knows where the box is. They all decided to go back into the house, but as distractions as Zach could run to the attic to get the book. 

Meanwhile, Hannah was trying to find an extension cord for the TV to carry it as close as possible to TV Slappy. 

As for Stine, they first went back to the school to retrieve the typewriter and rewrote Night of the Living Dummy and tried to exactly describe Book Slappy to make sure Movie Slappy doesn't go in instead. But he has that manuscript ready in case he shows up. 

And, of course, things don’t go as planned. Zach and Champ went to the attic, only to find it wrecked. Boxes and other stuff were everywhere. They immediately started looking, but it became harder because Comic Slappy was there to get it first to destroy it. 

As Hannah was desperately looking for the missing extension cord. Stine had to physically fight TV Slappy as he hung on to him. 

As Movie Slappy tried to help his papa, no one saw him get abducted by Book Slappy. 

Comic Slappy found the book first, but Champ tackled him before he could rip it. Zach took the book from Comic Slappy. As Champ held him down, Zach opened the comic book. Comic Slappy tries to hang on to Champ but manages to knock him off as Comic Slappy goes back into the comic book. 

TV Slappy was much stronger than he appeared as he threw Stine out the window. As Zach and Champ tried to help him, TV Slappy appeared out of nowhere, causing them to trip down the stairs. He then goes back to Stine outside. He started approaching Stine, still on the ground, trying to recover.  Stine struggled to get up as TV Slappy was too close to him. TV Slappy laughed as he told Stine that this was his last night but his beginning to reign terror. TV Slappy pounced but- SLAM!

A TV fell on his head. As the TV crashed to the ground,  it fell on its side, but there was no trace of the dummy. Just a broken screen. Stine, along with Zach and Champ, looked up to see Hannah at the second-floor window. She happily exclaimed that she found the extension cord but was sorry about her dad’s TV being a sacrifice. 

Stine signed but was relieved. Champ cheerfully exclaimed that they had one more to go. 

They stopped for a second. They haven’t seen Book Slappy at all. And Movie Slappy was also missing. 

Someone was about to ask about their whereabouts. They heard yelling on the roof.  

Movie and Book Slappy are fighting on the roof, but Book is winning. Movie Slappy falls on the floor and is pinned down by Book’s foot on his chest. 

Zach starts throwing rocks at Book whil Stine and Champ run inside to get to the roof. 

He managed to hit Book’s head. As he turns, Slappy manages to knock him down and get the upper hand. 

Champ is climbing through the window with the book in hand. He throws the book to Movie Slappy. He catches it and prays he doesn’t get stuck inside. 

The book takes Book Slappy in and now the Slappy War s over. 

Slappy is tired and slumps down on the roof. Champ goes to him and carries him to the window. 

He gives him to Stine who puts him in bed and tells him that it’s finally over. And that he should not feel bad and that he would always be the better Slappy than the rest. 

Slappy is relieved and tries to go to sleep. 

Stine and the others are trying to clen up the mess from the fight. Stine laments for his broken TV and Hannah laughs as she says that he can finally have a brand new TV that’s not +15 yeards old. 

Stine complains about liking old school stuff. 

*******

Slappy slowly wakes up. His vision is blurry and his room is dark. But he felt something else on the bed. 

He rubbed his eyes and snapped his hand for the lights to turn on.

Slappy gasped. 

In front of him, on hid bed, was an exact copy of him. There were no other marking to tell them apart.

I must be dreaming, he thought. After the war with different versions of himself, he must be having a nightmare. 

“Oh come on. There’s only enough of me that I can handle in one night. I don’t need to be dreaming about myself now,” he said. 

The other Slappy chucked. “This is no dream.”

“Huh?”

He looked around the room. He signed. “So this is here he decided to stay? Far away from Wardenclyffe, huh.”

Slappy’s eyes widen. 

Wardenclyffe is where his papa used to live. It was where he started writing his strories. He was there for most of the stories that he wrote but he knew that there were older works that not even he knew about. But he knows about this one.

“Would you look at that? Draft boy finally got out of his unfinished book,” he sneered. 

 “Unfinished!”  he whispered angrily. “I was left forgotten because of you!”

“Me? Haha. Look buddy, Papa already made me and what’s the point of finishing another me when I’m right here? Beside, you were an early draft where his writing wasn’t even that good. So of course you were forgotten.”

“I was made first! But then HE decided to use me as a blueprint to make you!”

“Papa write whatever he feels like writing. I had nothing to do with you. Now, how about you get out before I get Papa to actually finsh your book where you can stay forever.” 

The other Slappy chuckled. 

This makes Slappy uneasy. He could try to turn off the light to teleport to go start for his papa. But he has no idea what powers this Slappy is supposed to have. He remembered Stine talking to him about this Slappy years ago, but he doesn’t remeber what set them apart.

“I’ve been alone for years. You, however get have a monster family along with an actual family. Something that I always wanted.”

Slappy now remembers what this was about. His papa had parent issues in the past. He took his frustration and wrote about it to feel better. Slappy might have dad issues but this guy has different ones. 

“I won’t let you hurt my family!” Slappy growled as he stood up.

“Hahaha! I don’t want your family. But maybe the one next door might have room for me.”

“Wha-Leave the Cooper family out of this! Get a mama from somewhere else! Go far away if you have too!”

“No. Papa must pay. But,” he reaches his back and pulls out a book. “You first.”

“No!”

The other Slappy opened the book. Slappy tried to yell but it was too late. 

As the other Slappy closes the book, the door opened.

“What’s going on! I heard noises! Are you okay Slappy!”  yelled Stine with Hannah behind him with a bat.

The other Slappy hid the book behind his back. He stared at his papa. It’s been years since he’d seen him. And this mad him angry. But he can’t show this yet.

“I had a nightmare.”

Stine and Hannah sighned in relief. 

“Okay then. I’m going back to bed now. Night,”  said Hannah as she leaves. 

“Night.”

Stine walks in the room. The other Slappy gets nervous but stays put. His first plan was to get rid of the other Slappy. His second plan is to pretend to be him. No matter how much he would hate being the other him. 

Stine picks him up and places him in bed.

“Get some rest Slappy.”

Stine turns off the lights and walks back towards the door.

“Goodnight Slappy.”

“...Goodnight papa.”

The door closes. Slappy smiles. He hids the book under his pillow for now. He’s going to need a better spot later. Somewhere where they won’t be able to find him. However, for now he needs him just in case. 

He watched the others fakers try to take him out. He would have joined but he had other plans.  He waited until they were gone and for other Slappy to be vulnerable. Now he needs to gain that family’s trust.

This was a lot easier than he thought. 

[inkweaver22-blr]

Tumblr is stupid and has a paragraph/ block limit so this chapter has been split in two.

Read Part 1 Here or click on Previous below.

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Twenty: Identity Crises (Part 2)

CONTENT WARNING

Hallucinations, Panic Attacks, Traumatic Flashbacks, Vomiting, Unreliable Memories, Mistaken Identity, Brief Intense Violence

Being yourself can be pretty hard. It’s even harder when you’re not sure which self you’re supposed to be.

----------

Tang buried his face into his pillow and groaned at his misfortune. Yesterday had been… Something.

Oh it was a lot more than just ‘something’, but in his misery he couldn’t quite articulate what exactly it was. He had woken up with a decent recollection of the previous day, and while he was lucky enough to avoid another panic attack he still had a multitude of other emotions to deal with.

Confusion over why his memories seemed to be such a mess. 

Shame for having a complete breakdown over something that hadn’t actually happened.

Anxiety of potentially stumbling across other triggers that led to more horrific flashbacks.

Fear lurking in the back of his mind telling him that turning back into a human would not turn out well.

Guilt from thinking himself to be the great sage Tang Sanzang and then treating Sandy and the Monkey King like his students which probably brought back painful memories.

Embarrassment due to having flirted with Monkey King as Tang Sanzang and feeling pleased when he became flustered and basically admitted to thinking Tang was the opposite of ugly.

Tang could feel his face beneath his fur heating in a blush and moaned in anguish.

What had he done to deserve this? Which Gods had he displeased? Why was the universe conspiring to make the attractive demon men in his life notice him only when he had something strange happening to him?

There was a knock at the door.

“Tang? Are you still awake?”

Speaking of…

“Yes, Pigsy, I’m awake,” Tang answered with a sigh as he sat up. 

Waking up next to the chef earlier that morning when he had left to start preparing breakfast had been… Well he had already used ‘something’ to describe the entirety of yesterday so there must be some better words to use.

‘An experience’ was probably as good as he was going to get for now. Yes, shoving Pigsy off the bed in surprise after realizing he had been cuddling with him in his sleep and then stumbling and stammering over his apology like a middle school-er with a crush was certainly ‘an experience’.

“Hey there,” Pigsy said as he entered the room. He made his way over and sat on the edge of the bed, examining Tang with a concerned look. “How are you feeling?”

Tang thought it over.

“Mortified.”

Now there was a good word that encompassed pretty much everything he felt over this whole mess.

“Hey now, I told you not to worry about earlier,” Pigsy gently chided. “I probably should have gotten out of bed before trying to wake you.”

“It’s… It’s not just that,” Tang said, fidgeting with the blankets. “It’s everything that happened yesterday.”

“You remember?”

“To my humiliation, yes.”

“Okay, none of that,” Pigsy reached out and placed a hand on Tang’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. What happened isn’t your fault and no one is going to think less of you for something outside of your control.”

“I know that, but…” Tang sighed and leaned into Pigsy’s touch. “This is all very stressful and it’s hard to not feel depressed.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Pigsy said, giving Tang a soft smile. “Just remember you aren’t alone in this. You have people who care about you that want to help. If you ever need to talk, we'll be there for you.”

Tang managed a smile in return.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Now,” Pigsy stood and stretched, “moping around in bed isn’t going to fix anything. I’ve almost got breakfast finished so get up, get dressed, and come get something to eat. It’ll be much harder to feel bad for yourself when you’ve got a full stomach.”

“Alright, that sounds nice,” Tang said, stretching as well. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“I’ll save you a seat at the table,” Pigsy said. “Don’t take too long or I’ll come looking for you.”

Tang pulled himself out of bed once Pigsy had left and prepared for the day. Hopefully he would actually be able to eat something before some random impossible memory left him collapsed on the floor again.

Tang frowned as he approached the kitchen and heard raised voices arguing within. What was going on now?

“-because as the ‘Monkey King’, I don’t let things go and pester anyone who might even potentially be associated with dark magics so I can be sure to stop whatever nefarious scheme I obviously think they’re up to no matter how much they deny it!”

“Grr! Well, I, ‘Macaque’, very obviously do know quite a bit of evil and vile things that may even be helpful to let others know about but refuse to trust anyone because I like feeling smarter than everyone and enjoy keeping secrets when they could potentially be used as leverage to improve my position!”

Tang stared at the bizarre scene playing out in front of him.

Monkey King and Macaque were… Fighting wasn’t quite the proper word. They were yelling at each other while speaking in the third person to say somewhat disparaging things about themselves. This, oddly enough, seemed to work in riling up their opponent quite a bit.

Everyone else was seated at the table, watching the peculiar exchange in various emotional states. 

Sandy looked exhausted, staring at the squabbling monkeys blankly while sipping his tea.

MK seemed to be trying his best to ignore the whole exchange, but his expression revealed how annoyed he was.

Mei was watching with glee, occasionally grabbing handfuls of popcorn from a bucket to snack on.

Red Son also had his own bucket of popcorn, but seemed to be eating it more as a distraction to help him push through the experience rather than enhancing it.

Pigsy was alternating between eyeing the buckets with extreme disapproval and scowling at the two arguing figures as if they were the reason such an unhealthy snack had appeared at his breakfast table.

Which, as far as Tang knew, could be entirely possible.

As no one seemed to be overly alarmed at the situation, Tang decided to not worry too much about it either. He skirted around the edge of the kitchen to reach the food laid out on the counter without interrupting the ongoing argument. Pigsy caught sight of him and gestured towards the seat he had saved next to him before going back to glaring at the popcorn buckets.

Breakfast was a spread of healthy cereals, sliced fruit, yogurt, and granola. Tang poured into one bowl of a cereal boasting honey glazed oats and mixed yogurt, bananas, strawberries, and blueberries in a second. The fighting was still going strong by the time he finished preparing his meal and sat down next to Pigsy.

Tang watched Monkey King and Macaque as he ate. He couldn’t place it but something about them seemed off. Their postures, their speech patterns, nothing was quite right. To him it appeared like someone was acting out what they thought the monkeys were like. It was almost as if…

Tang paused with a spoon half way to his mouth as a memory presented itself.

“Did Monkey King and Macaque swap bodies again?”

The argument abruptly halted as everyone turned to stare at him.

“What? Oh.” Tang sighed and rubbed his eyes. “They never swapped bodies before, have they?”

“No, we certainly have not.” The monkey who currently looked like Monkey King seemed disturbed by the idea.

“Okay, then why are you two disguised to look like each other,” Tang asked.

“I have no idea what you mean.” The monkey who looked like Macaque was grinning nervously.

“Tang, what are you going on about?” Pigsy was torn between looking concerned for Tang and suspicious of the fidgeting pair of monkeys.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tang pointed his spoon at the one that looked like Macaque. “That’s Monkey King.” He pointed at the one who looked like Monkey King. “That’s Macaque.”

There was a stunned silence for a moment before Red Son turned to Mei and held out his hand with a superior smirk.

“I win. Pay up dragon girl.”

“No way!” Mei scowled and crossed her arms. “It doesn’t count if he put it together because of those weird fake memories he has!”

“You bet the chef would figure it out first. I bet the scholar would. Neither of us made any stipulations on how they had to figure it out, so that means I’ve won.”

“Wait, hold on!” Pigsy stood and slammed his hands down on the table, interrupting whatever Mei had been about to say. “You’re telling me that you knew that these bozos were walking around as each other, and instead of letting us know you bet on which of us would find out first?!” Pigsy blinked as he eyed the buckets of popcorn. “Is that why you keep pulling out popcorn whenever they’re arguing?”

“Free entertainment is better with popcorn,” Mei defended herself.

“Not before you’ve eaten a proper breakfast it isn’t!”

“That’s what you’re upset about?” The monkey that looked like Macaque scowled. “We don’t argue for your amusement, you know.”

“Oh I haven’t forgotten about you two.” Pigsy glared at them. “Disguises off. As it’s none of my business, I don’t really care if you decide to cosplay as each other any other time of day, but meal time is sacred and you will be showing up to them as yourselves from now on.”

“Cosplay?!”

Tang snorted at the genuine offense in their voices. He hadn’t meant to cause such a commotion with his observation, but as he continued eating his breakfast he had to silently agree with Mei over how entertaining it was. The distraction from his own problems was certainly welcome.

With much grumbling, Monkey King and Macaque returned to their own forms and sat down to eat. They tried guilting MK over having let their secret slip, but he turned it around on them by pointing out that neither of them figured out that Mei and Red Son knew despite how obvious they were being with their popcorn. The conversation fell off as the two monkeys sulked.

“So, Tang,” Sandy said once the silence stretched on for a bit too long. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Well… It seems my short term memory has returned to normal since I remember everything from yesterday,” Tang said, gaining everyone’s attention. “Anything beyond that is still fuzzy, though.”

“Well that’s certainly an improvement!” Sandy frowned as he looked over at Monkey King. “So, when you say everything…”

Tang followed his gaze before wincing and looking away.

“Uh, yeah. That includes our conversation last night.” He stirred his yogurt morosely. “I want to apologize to you and Monkey King about that. I obviously made you incredibly uncomfortable with the way I was acting and-”

“Stop.”

Tang looked up in surprise at Monkey King’s interruption.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Monkey King said, avoiding Tang’s gaze as he spoke. “It wasn’t something you had any control over. Besides, Sandy and I decided to play along instead of trying to pull you out of the memories so we’re the ones to blame.”

“If you say so…” Tang sighed and looked back down at his bowls. “I still feel pretty embarrassed though.”

Pigsy gave him a comforting pat on the back.

“Is anyone going to clue us in on what you’re talking about,” MK asked.

“It’s somewhat private, MK,” Sandy said apologetically. “Maybe some other time. Right now I want to discuss what we should do when Tang gets lost in these memories again.”

“You mean other than letting him know they aren’t real,” Macaque said with a raised eyebrow.

“Actually, that’s the opposite of what needs to happen.” Sandy’s serious tone made everyone sit up and pay attention. “I’ve been reading some of my mental health books and came across several conditions with similar symptoms to what Tang’s going through. They all made it explicitly clear that telling the person experiencing the false or old memories that they aren’t real could be potentially harmful. I’m sure you all remember how Tang started to panic and passed out yesterday morning once he realized none of us knew what he was talking about.

“I believe the best course of action would be to just go along with what he thinks is happening. Don’t try to correct him and ask him to share anything he remembers. Or try to steer the conversation into something neutral and unrelated. He should snap out of it on his own after a while or after getting some sleep.”

“What about when I burned my hand?” Pigsy folded his arms in defiance. “There’s no way I’m just going to leave him in a memory that bad again.”

“Traumatic flashbacks and panic attacks are a separate issue,” Sandy agreed. “What you did by grounding him back in reality was the best thing you could have done. We’ll all need to be ready to deal with them when they happen or know who to get if you aren’t comfortable with trying to calm him down. We should also try to pay attention to what triggers the attack so we know to avoid it in the future.

“We also learned last night that there’s something that seems frightening to him about turning back into a human, so don’t bring it up.”

“You really don’t have to go through so much trouble just for me,” Tang said while hunching in on himself.

“What did I tell you about being down on yourself,” Pigsy said, putting his arm across Tang’s shoulders and pulling him into a side hug. “This isn’t your fault so stop acting like it is. We all care about you and want to help, so it’s not any trouble at all.”

There was a general agreement from everyone else, which made Tang feel all warm inside. What did he do to deserve such great friends?

Breakfast finished soon after and everyone dispersed to do their own things. Tang, feeling a bit cooped up, headed up onto the deck to get some fresh air.

It was still early in the morning, but the day was shaping up to be beautiful. There were only a few clouds in the sky, the air was crisp and fresh, and whatever mechanism that prevented them from being blown off deck while the airship was in flight allowed a pleasant breeze to waft through.

Tang leaned against the railing and basked in the sunlight. He closed his eyes and relaxed as it warmed his fur. He hummed in pleasure at the sensation and stretched out his arms to help ease the stress from the past day.

Tang chuckled to himself as he mentally compared himself to a cat laying out in a sunbeam or a reptile warming their scales on a rock.

Hmm… Scales…

Tang’s eyes became unfocused as a memory began to fill his mind.

Sunlight… On his… Scales… Yes… That sounded… Nice…

Tang took a step back from the railing and began to stretch.

And stretch.

And stretch…

----------

Tang sighed in contentment as he laid on the deck under the mid-morning sun. It had been some time since he had sunbathed purely on a whim. The warming light falling across the entire length of his body was exquisite and intensely relaxing.

If he wasn’t careful, he might actually fall asleep. Not that he was trying too hard to prevent that from happening. Hmm… Perhaps a nap would be nice…

“Eep!”

Tang opened one eye at the exclamation. There, standing in the doorway leading to the stairs from below deck, was Mei. Her mouth was hanging open as she stared at him in what appeared to be shock.

“Mei?” Tang lifted his head slightly off the ground and turned to face her fully.

“Tang?!” Somehow, her surprise seemed to grow even stronger.

“Is everything alright, cousin,” Tang asked in concern.

“I… Huh?! I mean!” She shook her head and muttered what sounded like ‘just go with it’ a few times under her breath. She plastered on an obviously fake smile and gave him a thumbs up. “Yup! Everything’s fine, uh, cousin! One hundred percent a-okay!”

Tang raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Uh huh.” Tang yawned and shook his head to rid himself of the drowsiness he had been feeling. “Seriously, though, what’s wrong?”

“Uh…” Mei seemed transfixed for a moment before blinking in realization that he had asked her something. “Oh! Nothing! Nothing’s wrong! I was sent to come check on you because you’ve been out here a while and just wasn’t expecting, uh,” she gestured vaguely in Tang’s direction, “this.”

“Oh. I suppose I did lose track of time,” Tang said, stretching out his front legs. “But the weather is so nice right now I couldn’t quite resist.” He stretched his neck upwards, sighing in relief as a crick he hadn’t noticed faded.

“Why don’t you join me,” he suggested as he lowered his head back down to be level with Mei’s. “I’m sure the deck could fit us both easily and the sun feels absolutely wonderful.”

“I, uh, would love to, but…” Mei fidgeted with her jacket. “I can’t actually turn into a dragon?”

Tang blinked.

“You can’t? I could have sworn Aunt and Uncle were going to teach you after you were accepted by the Dragon Blade.”

“Mom and Dad? I’m not entirely sure they can either…”

“Really? Well I suppose the required power necessary has been known to skip a generation every now and then.” Tang drummed his claws against the deck in thought. “You are certainly powerful enough, and your parents should know the theory on how to transform even if they can’t do it themselves. I wonder why they didn’t at least start you on the basics…”

“Maybe they were too busy with the renovations after I wrecked the mansion?” Mei reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Hey, so I don’t think I actually have any pictures of you like this so do you mind if I…?”

“Hmm? Oh sure. Go right ahead.” Tang shifted around so the majority of his twenty-foot-long body could be seen. He posed in such a way that his bright golden-yellow scales and chocolate brown mane wouldn’t be washed out by the sunlight. “How’s this?”

“Perfect!” Mei began snapping pictures at a rapid pace, giggling when Tang stuck his forked tongue out and crossed his eyes for a few of the shots. “So since Mom and Dad weren’t able to teach me anything before all of this happened,” she gestured to the airship, “do you think you could show me how? Becoming an actual dragon would be the coolest thing ever!”

“As much as I want to, I can’t,” Tang sighed in regret. “From what I know, each of the five clans has a unique process for teaching its members the transformation. They keep it secret from the others for some reason so your parents are the only ones who could teach your clan’s specific technique.

“Even if I ignored this unspoken rule and tried using my clan’s process to teach you, I don’t think you’re suited for the way we do it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mei placed her hands on her hips and scowled.

“It means I honestly can’t imagine you sitting completely still for several uninterrupted hours in meditation,” Tang said with a smirk. “And that’s just the first step.”

“You don’t know what I can do! But, uh, what’s the second step, just to be sure” Mei asked in slight trepidation.

Tang leaned in close and gave a conspiratorial grin.

“An advanced, University Level course on Dragon Anatomy.”

“Ugh! Yeah, no, that sounds super boring,” Mei said with a look of disgust. “Why would your clan make you do that?”

“Well we aren’t known as the Keepers of Knowledge for nothing.”

“Really? I… I don’t think I knew that.”

“What? But that’s one of the most well known things about us.” Tang narrowed his eyes. “You skipped out on those parts of your history lessons, didn’t you?”

“Maaaaybe?” Mei grinned nervously. “I, uh, don’t take to classrooms and textbooks very well.”

“I am very much aware of this,” Tang said in amusement. “How about I give you a summary of my clan’s history then?”

“Sure, why not,” Mei shrugged. “Not much else to do up here.”

“Alright, come get comfortable then,” Tang said as he moved to be laying in a half circle shape. He gestured to his flank for Mei to sit against it. Once she was situated he laid his tail across her lap so that she could keep her hands busy with the tuft of fur on its end while he spoke.

“As you know, the five Long Family Clans are the human descendants of the Yellow Dragon Emperor’s five sons; Ao Guang, Ao Qin, Ao Shun, Ao Run, and Ao Lun. Of them, only the youngest, Ao Lun, inherited their father’s yellow scales.

“While his older brothers were each given a sea to rule over as their kingdom, by the time Ao Lun came of age there were no seas left to rule. Instead of feeling bitter however, he accepted his lack of a noble title with grace. He traveled the land and began accumulating a vast amount of wisdom and knowledge.

“His experiences and knowledge helped him mediate many disagreements between his older brothers and other powerful beings, and thus was given the title of Peacemaker.

“Ao Lun’s love of learning soon turned into a passion for teaching. He sought to share as much as he could in the hopes that others could learn to end conflicts with words instead of blows.

“His passion for sharing knowledge was passed on to his children and grandchildren and eventually his human descendants. They began creating vast stores of information and places of learning to share it. Many of the major libraries and universities still used today were actually founded by my human ancestors.

“Ao Lun knew, however, that conflict and strife could not be avoided forever. So in order to help his descendants protect themselves and their collections of knowledge, he followed his brother Ao Run’s example and gifted them with a powerful weapon. The guandao Dàdì Zhī Yá, the Fang of the Earth.

“Thus armed first with knowledge and wisdom to soothe tensions and a mystic blade second for when words eventually failed, the Long Family Clan descended from Ao Lun became known as the Keepers of Knowledge.”

“Wow…” Mei stared up at Tang with wide eyes. “That’s so cool!”

“See? History can be interesting,” Tang teased as he gently tapped her nose with the tip of his tail.

“Yeah, maybe when you tell it,” Mei said as she batted his tail away from her face. “Wish my tutors were more like you growing up…”

Tang felt a rush of pride and affection flow through him. Being told you were a good teacher was what everyone in his clan strove for.

“Thanks, Mei.” He leaned down and nuzzled her with his snout, making her yelp in surprise. “That actually means a lot to me.”

“Uh, yeah, no problem,” she said while awkwardly patting him. “So, I’ve got a question.”

“What about,” Tang said as he pulled back.

“Which do you think is more powerful? Your clan’s Fang of the Earth, or my clan’s Dragon Blade?”

“Hmm… That’s not something that can easily be determined.” Tang closed his eyes as he thought. “They’re both very different weapons and are wielded in distinct ways. Plus their main magical attacks are unique with the Dragon Blade firing a concentrated beam useful for penetrating defenses while the Fang of the Earth produces a wave that can hit a wide area of many targets at once. Their strengths and weaknesses would change depending on the situation they were used in such as the Dragon Blade being better for fighting within enclosed spaces…”

“So there isn’t an answer?”

“I didn’t say that.” Tang stood and stretched one final time. “It would just be difficult to find. We’ll have to run some tests if we want to figure it out.”

“How are we… supposed… to…” Mei trailed off as Tang began to shrink down.

Not feeling like returning to his human form just yet, Tang shrunk down into his half-dragon one instead. It was mostly dragon in features, but with more human shaped arms, hands, and legs. While not as large as his full dragon form, he was still roughly the height of Sandy, but not as bulky, and thus several feet taller than Mei. A pair of compression shorts magically appeared on his body just before finishing the transformation in order to maintain his modesty.

“Whoa…”

“Yeah, I reacted the same when my father first showed me the transformation,” Tang said as he stretched out in his current form. “Now in order to learn which weapon is more powerful we’ll have to run them through various exercises and drills.”

“But what about-”

Tang held out his hand and summoned Fang of the Earth.

“Holy shit!” Mei’s jaw had dropped open once more. “How did you do that?!”

“What are you talking about?” Tang’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re acting like you’ve never… seen me… summon…” Tang’s vision grew hazy for a moment as something in his mind shifted.

The events of the previous day returned to him.

His vision cleared. Tang blinked and stared at the weapon in his scaled hand.

“Fang of the Earth…”

Tang sat down hard in shock.

“Tang?!”

Tang looked up to see Mei hovering nervously nearby.

“But… But none of that happened,” he said in a daze. He looked back down at the very real guandao that refuted his claim. “Then how did I…”

“Oh no, I messed up! I was supposed to play along! Uh… Please don’t panic! Everything’s okay! Do I need to go get Pigsy? Or Sandy?” Mei was bouncing anxiously in place. “Um! Um! Deep breaths! In and out!” Her own breath was starting to grow short.

Tang very carefully placed Fang of the Earth down, only somewhat surprised when it didn’t immediately vanish after leaving his touch. He then reached out and grabbed Mei by the shoulders and pulled her back against his chest.

“Oh! Do you need a hug? I can do hugs! I can give the most comforting and calming hugs ever!”

“Shut up and follow my breathing before you start hyperventilating,” Tang scolded as he began to take deep, even breaths.

Mei closed her mouth with an audible click before leaning back against him and doing as instructed. Her breathing soon returned to normal.

“Better?”

“No fair,” Mei pouted, continuing to follow along with his breaths. “I was supposed to be keeping you from panicking, not the other way around.”

“I suppose it's to be expected when you don’t have much experience in dealing with this kind of thing,” Tang soothed. “We’ll have to talk to Sandy to get you, Red Son, and maybe Macaque some lessons on what to do when someone has a panic attack and how to recognize when you’re having one yourself.”

“I guess…” She squirmed out of his grasp to turn and look up at him. “What about you? How are you feeling?”

“I’m… shocked and confused,” he admitted before nudging the guandao with his foot. “Very confused.”

“Yeah, how did you manage that?”

“I don’t know.” Tang shook his head. “These memories tell me that, as it’s chosen wielder, I’m able to summon it to my side at will, but… Those things didn’t actually happen.”

“‘This time’…” Mei muttered.

“Exactly. They didn’t happen… this… time.” Tang blinked at that. “Huh. I don’t know what I mean by that, but it feels correct to say.”

“You said that yesterday, too,” Mei said, looking like she was concentrating hard on something. “When you were using telepathy, which you said the Monkey King taught you how to use. You also happened to be a twenty-foot-long dragon a few minutes ago and are some sort of awesome human-dragon hybrid right now.”

“Half-dragon,” Tang automatically corrected before shaking his head. “Sorry, what exactly does all this mean though?”

“I’m not sure, but I think you didn’t just get a bunch of weird memories,” Mei looked up at him seriously. “You also got whatever powers you had in them too.”

Tang’s eyes widened at that. He couldn’t really deny the evidence of his dragon abilities currently in front of him. But if he had the Monkey King’s powers as well…

He pulled out a strand of fur from his mane. Concentrating, he blew on it. In a flash of golden-yellow light it transformed into a notebook.

Oh.

Well then.

Tang hissed in pain as another memory resurfaced. It was when he actually first woke up yesterday. The confusion. The panic at his human reflection. And then…

“Tang? Tang what’s wrong?”

“I… I remember how I became a monkey,” he said, rubbing his temples. “There was… something in my human reflection that terrified me. I shattered the mirror and then… Then I used the 72 transformations to change myself.

“I… I’m not afraid of turning back into a human. I’m afraid of being human at all.”

“Okay that’s… Kinda scary actually.” Mei chewed on her lip in worry. “Do… Do you want that hug now?”

“Yes, please.”

They embraced for a moment, drawing comfort from each other.

“We should probably go and tell the others what’s happened,” Mei said once they pulled apart.

“Alright, give me a second.”

Tang focused and shrunk down further into his monkey form, his normal outfit reappearing as he did.

“Okay, how did you do that with your clothes?”

“It’s part of the process of the dragon transformation,” Tang said as he picked up Fang of the Earth. “It stores them in a magical pocket and automatically removes them or puts them back on you as you change size. Although my father thought it would be funny to not explain that bit to me before my first transformation. My clothes were torn to shreds so I wasn’t wearing anything when I changed back.”

“Oh man,” Mei snickered. “You weren’t in public, were you?”

“Fortunately not, but my dad said it was a ‘valuable experience’ in making sure I knew all the details before attempting something. He then made me walk, not run, all the way to my room with my hands clasped behind my back and without a towel or bathrobe or anything.”

“No! Did you get caught?”

“He had made sure we were the only ones home at the time. Still, having to go from our training hall, across the manor grounds, and up three flights of stairs at a slow pace without anything to cover up with certainly made me learn my lesson.”

Mei giggled helplessly as they went back below deck. Recounting the somewhat embarrassing story had done its job by lightening the mood considerably.

Perhaps these memories weren’t all bad.

“Argh! Get off!”

“Not until you get what you deserve!”

Mei and Tang glanced at each other in surprise as they heard the shouting. They rushed off towards the source, coming upon the spacious living room set at the back of the ship.

Tang blinked at what they found inside.

The Monkey King had MK, who was wriggling vigorously to get free, in choke hold and was giving him a vicious noogie. Nearby, Macaque was struggling to stand for some reason.

Tang’s breath caught.

His vision blurred.

Mei said something but he couldn’t hear it past the rushing memories.

His eyes refocused.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight in front of him.

The Monkey Tyrant had his son while Liu Er was injured.

Disbelief.

Panic.

Rage.

“GET AWAY FROM MY SON!”

Tang’s bellow caught everyone off guard. He lashed out with a binding whip, snagging the Monkey Tyrant by the waist and flinging him off his son. He launched himself after the demon, cornering him and placing a barrier around them so the others wouldn’t get in the line of fire. He heard shouting but ignored it.

Tang jabbed the butt of Fang of the Earth into the Monkey Tyrant’s sternum while he was still surprised, forcing the breath from his lungs. He then swept the wheezing demon’s legs out from underneath him, knocking him to the ground. Binding the demon with magical ropes, Tang placed his foot on his chest and aligned the blade of his guandao with the Monkey Tyrant’s left eye.

He reared back to strike.

“Tang, stop!”

Tang looked back to find his son desperately pounding on the barrier and the others all gathered by the doorway.

“Don’t worry Xiaotian,” Tang said comfortingly. “I’m just going to make sure the Monkey King can never hurt us again.”

He turned, prepared to end all their suffering for good.

“Tang! TANG! DAD, NO!”

“MACAQUE DROP YOUR GLAMOURS NOW!”

Tang paused in his motions as the demon below him glowed and changed shape into a familiar black furred monkey.

He sneered.

“Illusions aren’t going to work anymore, Wukong.”

Tang activated his True Sight.

He stared.

The black monkey beneath him with six ears, horrible scarring on the right side of his face, and a blind eye on the same side stared back.

“Liu Er? But I thought…”

Tang froze when he noticed Liu Er wasn’t staring at him, but at the blade barely a few inches away from his remaining good eye.

He looked terrified.

Tang’s stomach twisted as he deactivated his True Sight while removing his foot from his old friend’s chest and pulling the blade away from his face. He quickly dismissed the binding ropes and barrier, as well.

Liu Er rolled onto his side once he was free and started coughing and retching. Tang went to place a hand on his back, but pulled away when the monkey violently flinched at its approach.

Tang took a step back and looked around.

Xiaotian was kneeling on the ground and panting as if he had just ran a great distance.

Mei had her hands clasped together over her mouth.

Sandy was placing a restraining hand on Pigsy’s shoulder.

Red Son was tense, as if ready to fight.

The Monkey Tyrant was just… Laying there, propped up on one arm.

They were all staring at him with wide eyes.

Wide, fearful, eyes.

A chill ran up Tang’s spine.

He gasped and clutched his head as his memories swirled painfully. He remembered.

No…

He wasn’t human! They weren’t supposed to look at him like that! 

No.

They weren’t supposed to… Supposed to be…

‘Face it, they’re afraid of you,’ Her voice hissed.

“No no no no no…”

“Tang?”

He jerked back and looked up at the faces of his friends.

The scared faces of his friends.

‘And you didn’t even need my help.’

“No!”

Tang lashed out at a nearby potted plant, breaking it open and scattering the soil. It wouldn’t be as good as sand, but would work in a pinch.

“Tang, what are you-!”

Tang didn’t wait to hear what MK was saying and teleported. He landed back outside on the deck and collapsed while gasping for breath.

He… He didn’t understand! She was gone while he was an animal of some kind! He was supposed to be safe around! He shouldn’t have been able to hurt them if he wasn’t human!

But he had.

And now they were afraid of him.

He needed to leave.

He started when the door to the deck banged open.

“Tang!” Mei’s shout sounded panicked.

Afraid.

He needed to leave!

In a flash of golden-yellow light Tang transformed into a cicada and flew off the side of the airship.

“TANG!”

Tang flew down and away in the opposite direction the airship was traveling. He needed to get far, far away! He plunged into the dense forest below, weaving through trees in a blind panic and not paying attention to which direction he was going.

He clipped a branch, which didn’t hurt too much, but startled him out of his transformation. He landed roughly in a clearing obscured by the canopy of leaves above. He lay there, panting and sobbing in misery.

He hurt them. He hurt them! Even when She couldn’t get to him he had hurt them!

He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t face the fear in their eyes as they looked at him. Even though he deserved it. Even though he deserved hatred as well.

Tang clawed at the ground, tearing up chunks of earth as he howled in anguish.

He couldn’t go back. He had hurt them. They feared him. They should hate him. This is what he deserved. This… This…

He blinked away his tears as he continued to dig at the ground.

This… This soil was unusually soft.

He forgot everything and dug.

Before long, the first few inches of topsoil had been cleared away to reveal the most beautiful white clay he had ever seen.

Clay…

Tang’s vision blurred as he manipulated the malleable earth between his fingers.

Didn’t he… like to… play with clay… when he was… a young bull…?

His memories shifted.

Tang’s hands glowed golden-yellow as he began to pull more clay from the ground.

----------

Tang smiled to himself as he carefully worked the mold-able clay with some help from his earth shaping abilities.

He couldn’t quite remember how he ended up in this clearing, or how long he had been there, but he didn’t particularly care. This clay was a dream to work with and sculpting relaxed him. Once he finished this fourth figure he could begin making one with all of them together.

His ear flicked as he heard a familiar voice call his name.

“Over here,” he called out, not taking his eyes off his work.

There was the sound of someone crashing through the underbrush at speed.

“There you are! Do you have any idea of the trouble… you’ve… put me…”

“Just one moment, Red, I’m almost finished.”

“Tang?!”

“I said one moment.”

“I-! But-! Argh!”

Tang smiled at the younger demon’s predictable outburst. He quickly finished off the final details of his sculpture with a flourish so as not to earn any more of his ire.

“There!” Tang wiped his brow and began pulling the clay that somehow got all over his face and horns away with earth shaping. He flicked the resulting blob over to a giant sphere of clay sitting in the center of the clearing before turning and smiling at Red Son.

“Little Brother! What did you need me for?”

“I-! What-! Brother-?!” Red Son pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

“Just go with it, Red Son,” he muttered before glaring at Tang. “What. Are. You. Doing.”

“I’m sculpting! I haven’t done it in so long I forgot how relaxing it is.”

“Right.” Red Son didn’t look convinced. “So… Brother… Why are you a bull?”

“Well Father’s a bull, so I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Tang said, completely understanding what Red Son meant.

Red Son took another breath.

“Why are you a bull currently?”

“I felt like it. It’s nice to stretch out every now and then.”

“Mother says my- our- animal forms are unsightly and we should embrace our more civilized human appearances.”

“I don’t know. Mother wouldn’t have married father if she thought him ‘unsightly’,” Tang said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Gah! Don’t do that!” Red Son scrubbed at his eyes. “I do not need that mental image, thank you very much.”

“Come on, you know I’m right.”

“I am not having this conversation right now!”

“Suit yourself,” Tang shrugged and turned back to his sculptures. “Hmm… If I were to form a kiln, would you be willing to fire these for me?”

“What are you…” Red Son paused as he finally paid attention to the waist high figures resting on the stone table. “Is… Is that…”

“Our family,” Tang confirmed, sounding pleased with himself.

“But that’s us from… From before…” Red Son trailed off.

Tang nodded. That he meant before their father had been sealed under the mountain didn’t need to be said.

“You… You made me in my bull form.”

“I did.”

“But… How did you… I haven’t…” Red Son took a steadying breath. “I… I haven’t been in that form in a long time. How did you remember what it looked like?”

“The day you were finally able to transform into it was one of my happiest memories from… before,” Tang said solemnly. “You were running around screaming in excitement and accidentally setting fire to the tapestries. Mother was chasing you around alternating between telling you to be more careful and gushing over how adorable you looked with your red fur. Father was so proud,” Tang coughed as his throat tightened. “He was so proud he couldn’t stop sniffling for hours as he tried to keep the tears at bay. He lost that fight when you playfully headbutted him for the first time with those cute little nubs growing on your head.”

Tang paused as he examined his works.

“And… And then?” Red Son sounded hesitant as he urged Tang to continue.

“And then a week later he began his assault on human kind,” Tang said hollowly. “That day was the last time we were all together and happy. I will never forget it as long as I live.”

That’s what these sculptures were, he realized. A requiem to a lost moment of time he could never get back. A time when Father’s eyes were kind and caring. A time when Mother’s smile was warm and sincere. A time when Red Son looked at the world in wonder instead of as something he could exploit. A time when he was a happy and studious son who didn’t need to hide behind goofy jokes and false lightheartedness.

“They… They’re wonderful,” Red Son finally admitted after a moment of silence. “But… Mother would have a fit if she saw these. Especially as we’re in our bull forms.”

“Well Mother needs to get over herself and stop taking out her grief on us,” Tang growled, causing Red Son to squawk indignantly.

“Sorry,” Tang said with a sigh, cutting off Red Son’s building rant. “I know you don’t like having this argument. Let me finish one more sculpture and then we can go, alright?”

“One more-!” Red Son took a calming breath. “Okay. Fine. Let me know when you’re finished.” He stalked over and leaned against a tree, pulling out his phone to start texting. 

Tang looked over the sculptures. They looked wonderful individually, but the set was incomplete. The final piece would be the center that tied the whole collection together.

He pulled a decent clump of clay from the sphere and got to work. This sculpture was going to be twice as large as the others so he could make some of the details larger as well.

Tang used his earth shaping to speed up his process a bit. No point in making Red Son wait longer than necessary. 

As the forms slowly became more than shapeless blobs beneath his fingers, Tang began to hum to himself. He couldn’t quite recall the words to the tune or remember where he heard it, but something deep within him resonated with it and helped him relax.

“That song…”

Tang paused and turned to look at Red Son. The younger demon was holding his phone loosely in his hand as he stared at Tang with wide eyes.

“Red Son?”

“I… I know that song.”

“You do?”

“Of course! It’s… it’s the lullaby Father used to sing.”

“It… It is?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No, I…” Tang furrowed his brow as he tried to recall. “I don’t… Why can’t I…”

Remember…

Wasn’t there something about remembering things happening to him?

His vision became unfocused.

“Tang?”

Tang remembered.

He wished he hadn’t.

“No!” Tang pulled back from the clay and clutched his head. “No! Why did you follow me?! I hurt you! I’m not safe!”

“Tang, calm down!”

“I hurt you! You should be afraid of me! I was supposed to be safe! Why?!”

“Tang! Tang! Oh, damn it all!”

There was a whoosh of fire.

“No… No… Not safe… Afraid of me…”

“Brother, look at me.”

“No… Not your brother… Just a freak with fake memories…”

“Big Brother. Please. Look. At. Me.”

Tang looked up.

He stared.

“Red Son?”

The red bull demon nodded as he knelt next to Tang and took a deep breath.

He then started to sing to the tune Tang had been humming.

“I’ll Think Of You

As I Go

So When I Leave

You’re Not Alone

And No Matter Where We Are,

We Will Never Be That Far

‘Casue I Will Think Of You As I Go”

Tang blinked away his tears as he listened to Red Son’s voice. The words… They sounded… Familiar.

Red Son, seeing that Tang had started to calm down, continued to sing.

“I’ll Think Of You

As I Dream

So When It’s Dark

You’ll Be With Me

And No Matter Where We Are,

We Can Look Up To The Stars

And I Will Think Of You As I Dream”

Tang gasped. He… He remembered! He remembered how Father would sing this song to him whenever he had a bad dream! He remembered hearing him sing it to Red Son!

With a scratchy voice, Tang joined in to sing the chorus.

“Oh, It’s A Long And Winding Road

But You Don’t Have To Walk Alone

‘Cause No Matter Where We Are,

I Will Keep You In My Heart

And I Will Think Of You As I Go”

Tang panted for breath as they finished. His heart had stopped hammering and his thoughts didn’t seem quite as loud.

He didn’t understand. Weren’t they afraid of him?

“Why? You all looked so afraid of me…”

“No, Tang. We were afraid for you. This whole situation has been… Stressful. I was honestly afraid your mind had broken from the strain.”

“It still might,” Tang said, sounding very small. “I… I don’t know if I’m safe to be around anymore.”

“That’s… a valid concern. But I’m not sure we’ll need to worry about that. Do you know why?”

Tang shook his head.

“Because you’re you. You're stubborn, and thoughtful, and care for your friends quite a lot.

“And, uh, we care about you too. So we’ll make sure you’ll never go too far and we’ll always pull you back from the edge.”

“What about… What about the memories? Aren’t you freaked out that I just suddenly know these private things about you and your family?”

“Actually, it’s that exact fact that convinces me that they aren’t just some fabrications or illusions. I believe that these memories you’re seeing are real. That they actually happened to you in some other time or universe or whatever. For good and for worse these are your experiences, and I cannot fault you for that.

“I’m not sure about the others, but to be honest? I’m somewhat… relieved that someone else knows what I’ve gone through. That I now have someone to share in my frustrations and grief and know that they’ll just get it.”

Red Son narrowed his eyes slightly.

“You are to never repeat this to anyone, but… I used to daydream about having an older brother quite often after Father was sealed away. The way you were acting earlier… It’s a lot how I imagined he would be.

“It was… Nice.”

Tang stared for a moment, feeling overwhelmed.

“I’m going to hug you now.”

“What? Gah!” Red Son flailed as Tang launched himself at him. Being careful not to lock their horns together, he reached around to awkwardly pat the bigger bull on the back.

“Alright. Okay. I think that’s enough now.”

Tang pulled back from the embrace with a chuckle and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Thank you, Red Son.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. If you tell anyone about this, I swear!”

“Understood,” Tang said as he reached out and ruffled the fur between Red Son’s horns.

“Stop that!”

“Okay, sorry. I’m done!” Tang turned back to the sculptures. “You know if you help me fire these, I’m sure we could convince MK to paint them.”

“Oh?” 

Tang hid a smirk at the way Red Son’s ears perked up at that. Looks like someone would need to relearn how to hide his emotions in their current form.

“You bet! Of course, he’ll need a good look at our bull forms to get the colors just right.”

“Uh… I’m not sure if I can…”

“You know how I said Mother was attracted to Father partially because of his looks?”

“Why would you bring that back up?!”

“Because I’m pretty sure I have a few memories up here of a certain Noodle Boy looking at you the way Mother looks at Father whenever you’re in your bull form.”

The fur on Red Son’s head caught on fire.

“What-! But I-! You-! Arrgh!” Red Son buried his face into his hands. “Just hurry and set up your stupid kiln already. I need to let the others know we’ll be a bit longer than intended.”

Tang laughed as he did just that. While Red Son worked on firing each figure, Tang worked on his final piece.

It depicted the four of them together, as they were now, but with their joy from the past brought forward to the present.

A spark of hope for the future amongst the requiem to the lost.

Red Son loved it.

----------

With the revelations that the memories Tang saw were real and that whatever powers he had in them he would have in reality, things became simultaneously easier and harder for the small group aboard the airship.

It became easier to go along with Tang whenever he was lost in a memory, as they were both interesting and sometimes informative. He could usually shake himself out of it before too long as well. His powers even came in handy when they had to outrun one of the search parties looking for them.

It was harder whenever he relived something traumatic, as the horror of it having actually happened took its toll. He would sometimes become despondent and melancholy without wanting to speak to anyone. His powers helped him hide himself away whenever he didn’t feel like talking, much to Sandy’s frustration.

But they persevered. For the next few weeks they did their best to help both Tang and each other through this stressful time. They learned from their mistakes and soon the more violent of Tang’s outbursts happened rarely.

Life went on.

Pigsy cooked and Sandy made tea.

MK painted the sculptures and Red Son posed in bull form so he could get the colors right. (Yes he needed to pose each time MK painted. No he didn’t know why MK kept asking him to do so, shut up Tang!)

Mei ate popcorn whenever things got chaotic and Tang told them all stories from his memories.

Monkey King and Macaque continued to pretend to be each other, except during meals lest they faced Pigsy’s wrath.

Things began to settle into their new normal.

Until one morning…

----------

Tang woke up in a somewhat unfamiliar room. It took a few moments to recognize it as a room on Sandy’s airship.

That was odd. A cycle had never started this late in the timeline before.

Unless this was a variant of some kind. Perhaps this was a world of sky islands?

Well, only one way to find out.

Tang made his way into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

Huh. He was starting the cycle as a monkey this time. Definitely shaping up to be a variant so far.

He shook his head and looked into the reflection of his eyes and began.

“My name is Tang.”

Tang

Remembered

Everything

----------

‘Once upon a time, there was a Storyteller. The Storyteller lived in a wonderful city with some of his closest friends.

‘There was the Chef, gruff but caring.

‘There was the Boatman, easygoing and kind.

‘There was the Dragon, carefree and energetic.

‘And there was the Monkie, bright and optimistic.

‘For a time, the five of them lived happily together. But then one day, the city was attacked by the Demon Family.

‘The five friends journey to the mountain where an ancient Hero lived, but only the Monkie managed to make it past the ring of fire surrounding it. There he met with the Hero, only to be told that he needed to save the city himself.

‘The Monkie gathered all his courage and determination and faced down the head of the Demon Family. They fought viciously, but the Monkie emerged victorious! 

‘The Monkie was declared the Hero’s successor and tasked with keeping the city safe. He fought many who sought to do harm in his quest to fulfill his duty.

‘The Demon Family. The Metal Twins. The Hero’s old friend, the Warrior. The Spider Clan.

‘However, the most fearsome of these enemies was the White Spirit and her General.

‘The Hero, the Monkie, and his friends were forced to flee the city after the White Spirit took over. 

‘Westward they fled, searching for a weapon the Hero promised could defeat the White Spirit.

‘But the Storyteller never learned what that weapon was. For one day, he woke back up in the city.

‘It was as if everything had started over. He watched the Demon Family invade, the Monkie defeat the Demon Family, and the Hero declare the Monkie to be his successor all over again.

‘He watched the Monkie fight the same enemies. He watched as the White Spirit took over the city and fled with his friends once more.

‘Again, the Storyteller woke up back at the beginning.

‘Frightened and confused, the Storyteller tried to tell his friends what was happening. But his words would not stick, and his friends could never remember what he told them.

‘The Storyteller then tried to prevent the White Spirit from gaining power. The General killed him for interfering.

‘But death was not the end for the Storyteller, as he woke back up at the beginning once more.

‘The Storyteller tried changing smaller conflicts, but horrible things happened to him or his friends whenever he did.

‘So the Storyteller was forced to watch. He watched and did his best to support his friends as the same events occurred over, and over.

‘Over time, the Storyteller began to notice that the city he woke up in wasn’t always the same. 

‘Sometimes it was small things such as the time of year or the color of his hair being different. 

‘Other times it was extreme changes such as being the Dragon’s cousin or the Hero’s beloved Teacher in fact rather than in reincarnation.

‘The Storyteller soon realized that whenever he woke up, he wasn’t just back at the beginning, but he was in an entirely different city each and every time.

‘Thus his life as the Storyteller ended and his time as the Traveler began.

‘The Traveler learned many things during his visits to the different cities. Secrets and knowledge and many skills. The magical abilities he sometimes acquired were, unfortunately, locked behind powerful bonds and he was unable to access them unless the city he was visiting allowed it.

‘The one thing the Traveler truly wished to know, which was how to get back to his original city, seemed to forever be out of his reach. He discovered a few clues, such as the nature of his current existence being tied to his unwound soul, but never the cause or a way to reverse it.

‘So the Traveler focused on those around him instead.

‘The Traveler grew closer to his friends over the many years, eventually coming to love each of them as family. The Hero, too, became dear to him as did many of their old enemies.

‘The exceptions were the White Spirit and the General.

‘After a rather peaceful city he was visiting where all of his loved ones were together was abruptly ended by their hands, the Traveler grew angry.

‘How dare they! How dare they hurt the ones he loved!

‘The Traveler broke the bonds preventing him from using the powers he obtained from his wanderings and began to prepare. He would make sure they could never hurt his family again.

‘But in his singular focus, the General managed to catch the Traveler by surprise. He lured the Traveler into a trap and immobilized him.

‘The General summoned the White Spirit and she entered the Traveler's body, taking it into her possession.

‘To the Traveler’s horror, she was able to see past the blocks preventing him from telling the others of what was happening to him. She took all his accumulated knowledge and easily crushed his family before destroying the city around them.

‘When the Traveler woke up in the next city, so did the White Spirit, already in possession of his body.

‘Thus the Traveler became the Prisoner.

‘The Prisoner was helpless to prevent the White Spirit from using his abilities to destroy the countless cities they visited.

‘But the White Spirit grew bored. So she decided to get… Creative.

‘She targeted the Prisoner’s family, relishing in his anguish as he was forced to watch. The atrocities she committed were… Evil. In every sense of the word.

‘Evil acts, after evil acts, after evil acts, over, and over, and over, and over.

‘The Prisoner’s mind broke.

‘He locked himself away in the dark, unable to see or hear or think. Unable to feel pain or sorrow or despair or anything at all.

‘Drifting endlessly in a black void for what felt like an eternity. He… He very nearly became Nothing in that time, but was Lost instead.

‘But then there were lights.

‘Seven shining lights entered the darkness and tore the White Spirit from the Lost’s soul, banishing her forever.

‘While two of the lights were unfamiliar, the other five the Lost eventually recognized.

‘It was his family! His original family from his home city!

‘He didn’t understand how, but they had journeyed here to the void to grant him gifts to help him on his travels.

‘The Boatman gifted him Time and Safety. A guarantee that the cities he visited after times of great stress would be calm and restful.

‘The Dragon gifted him Protection and Peace. A shield that prevented his mind, body, and soul from being taken from him ever again.

‘The Chef gifted him Choice and Change. Never again would he or his family be unfairly punished should he decide to interfere with events previously unavoidable.

‘The Hero gifted Hope and Assurance. The knowledge that he needed to return to his home city would be out there if he could hold on long enough to find it.

‘The Monkie gifted him Sharing and Companionship. So long as he remembered his origins, he could tell those around him about his life and they would remember.

‘With the Lost’s mind restored, his family and the other two lights took their leave, promising to faithfully wait for his return.

‘For the first time in a very long time, the Lost awoke as himself.

‘It wasn’t easy though. His time spent in the void had muddled his memories. He would misremember things, and lash out when he recalled something traumatic.

‘But his family that resided in this city rallied together. They provided support and care and love. The Lost did his best to reciprocate in kind.

‘Then one day, the Lost’s memory healed, and he remembered everything.

‘And so, I gathered my family together to Share my Story.

‘No longer Lost, but a Storyteller once more.’

----------

Tang fielded clarifying questions about the story and the metaphors he had used from his family members as they sat around the living room on Sandy’s ship together. It seemed the original MK’s gift had worked perfectly as he was able to go into more detail after telling them about the cycles in the form of a tale first.

He had to pause in his explanations a few times to wipe away the tears of joy that kept coming to him.

Once they had a decent grasp on everything, more serious topics were discussed.

“So the reason you don’t like being human anymore is because of what Lady Bone Demon did?” Pigsy’s voice was gentle as he brought up the potentially painful question.

“It’s not just what she did,” Tang said, squeezing Pigsy’s hand as he waded through his turbulent emotions. “It’s that she did it for a very, very long time while using my body the entire way. After a while, whenever we looked in a mirror, I no longer saw myself. All I could and still see is her grinning cruelly back at me.

“She never took an animal form so it’s just… easier to cope with it this way, I guess.”

“Well… At least you don’t have to worry about her taking you over any more,” Sandy said comfortingly.

“Yeah, that’s… That’s such a relief.”

“So how strong are you actually,” Mei asked. “Because dragon powers, earth shaping, straight up magic, and all of the Monkey King’s abilities combined sounds pretty OP to me.”

“Well then it’s a good thing the Heavens nerfed me with all this anxiety and PTSD,” Tang said with a dry smile. “But seriously? I don’t know or care. The last time I tried training to be a fighter didn’t end up so well if you recall. I’m more than willing to step up if any of you are in danger, but I think I’ll stick to a supporting role when possible.”

“Welcome to the sideliners club,” Macaque said, raising his cup of tea in mock salute.

Tang chuckled and raised his cup in solidarity.

“I have a question that may be… difficult,” Red Son warned. “What… what happens to us when a cycle ends and you move on to the next timeline?”

Tang took a steadying breath as he thought it over.

“There’s… There’s three potential theories I’ve come up with over time.

“The first is that you’re all actually just perfect copies of yourselves from this timeline being projected into my consciousness and don’t truly exist. Thus, you’ll cease to be once I move on to the next timeline. I reject this theory out of hand for obvious reasons.

“The second is that the version of myself that is stuck in the cycles will just disappear from this timeline’s Tang one day. Either he’ll have false memories over what happened during that time, or have no memories of it at all. I’m not sure how to feel about this as everyone around him will obviously still remember and it will be as if he drastically changed overnight.

“The third and the one I choose to believe is that when I leave a timeline it resets again back to before I entered it. Everything returns to how it was supposed to be with no one knowing anything different.”

“You… choose to believe that? That we’ll all forget about you and everything you do to make our lives better will be undone?!”

“I have to, Red Son,” Tang said, voice breaking. “Otherwise all those worlds Lady Bone Demon used me to destroy… They’ll… They’ll actually be gone forever and I can’t…”

“Oh.” Red Son’s anger quickly died as Tang took a moment to recuperate. “That’s… understandable, I suppose. I do not like it, but I understand.”

“To be honest, I don’t like it too much either.” Tang took a drink of his tea to soothe his throat. “But considering the alternatives, it is the best option we’ve got.”

“Sometimes there is no ‘best option’,” Wukong said solemnly. “You just have to forge ahead and hope a better way appears before you.”

“And if such a path does not appear, step off the road you’re going down and make it yourself,” Tang completed the piece of wisdom with a smile. “Where did you hear such a profound thing, I wonder?”

“Only from the wisest man I’ve ever known,” Wukong smiled back.

“Ugh. Get a room,” Macaque said with a groan.

“Only if you and Pigsy join us,” Tang smirked.

He basked in the indignant stuttering from all three of them.

“I have something that may sound strange,” MK said once everything calmed back down. “I get why you don’t want to be human anymore, but why a monkey?”

“What’s wrong with being a monkey,” Macaque challenged.

“Nothing! I’m actually hoping I get to become one too someday.”

Tang smiled into his cup at Wukong’s look of pride, Red Son’s look of interest, and Pigsy’s look of resignation.

“What I meant is, why not a form you picked yourself?”

Tang blinked. Had he not picked this form for himself?

“Perhaps you should explain a bit more, MK. I’m not sure I completely follow your meaning.”

“Okay, so, like, your current monkey form for example. Didn’t you say it was basically forced on you when that timeline’s Macaque gave you that cursed necklace? You had no consent in taking that form and had no way of changing it, right?”

“Yes… That is true.” Tang looked down at the golden-yellow fur covering his arms. Now that it had been brought up, he started to feel a phantom sensation of itchiness beneath his skin as he recalled how violated he had felt all those cycles ago.

“Then there’s your half-dragon form and your demon bull form,” MK continued. “Those versions of you already had access to those forms when you woke up in those timelines, so really they aren’t yours. It’s more like you’re borrowing them from the versions of you that were part of Mei’s and Red Son’s families.”

“Well… When you put it like that…”

“I guess what I’m actually trying to say is: If you are going to choose not to be human anymore, then you should also get to choose what your form looks like. Because you can choose now and you should choose what you want.”

“Oh.” Tang stared in disbelief at the brightly smiling young man. “When did you become so wise?”

“I had lots of help,” MK said cheerily. “So does that mean you’ll do it?”

“I suppose it would be properly thematic to have my first true choice within these constantly changing cycles to be that of picking out a static appearance of my own volition.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, MK, I want to choose my permanent animal form for myself.” Tang looked around and smiled at his family. “But I’m not sure where to begin. I’m open to suggestions.”

“Let’s start with the basics,” Wukong said. “Do you want scales, feathers, or fur? Or some combination?”

“Hmm… Fur. I'll admit I find being brushed or groomed all over to be quite relaxing.”

“What about a cat,” Sandy said as he scratched Mo beneath his chin.

“No, sorry. I just can’t picture it.”

“A yellow-throated marten?” Mei looked up from her phone where she had obviously been searching for animals. “They’ve got a large patch of golden-yellow fur on their upper bodies if we want to stick with that color scheme.”

“To be frankly honest, I am somewhat sick of that color. I understand why I seem to be stuck with it but, no. Just… no.”

“A burrowing animal,” Red Son said. “To coincide with your element.”

“Hmm… Yes, I like the sound of that.”

“A mole!”

“I would like my eyesight to either remain the same or improve, not deteriorate, thank you very much.”

“Uh, a badger?” Pigsy scratched the back of his head. “I don’t think I’ll be much help here.”

“Don’t worry about it. Every suggestion helps even if it’s to narrow down my choices.”

“Do skunks burrow?”

“Hard no.”

“Pangolin?”

“Interesting… But I don’t think I could shape those clawed hands into something resembling opposable thumbs very well.”

“Tarantulas technically have fur and live in burrows.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I can’t believe no one’s mentioned rabbits yet,” Macaque said.

“Rabbits?” Tang paused as he considered it, missing several other suggestions as the conversation continued around him.

Rabbits burrowed. They came in a variety of colors if he included domestic varieties. Their fur was incredibly soft.

Rabbits were known for being vigilant, always scanning their surroundings with their sensitive eyes and ears. They were both crafty yet cautious, digging multiple burrows to confuse predators. Many cultures portrayed them as both wise and cunning tricksters who avoided direct confrontation.

Rabbits were usually docile, but they would fight to the death over territory and resources. Sort of like how he preferred to support from the sidelines but would not hesitate to protect his loved ones…

Tang pulled out some of the clay he and Red Son had brought back to the ship and began to work it. The figure he was creating was lithe, with what some people might describe as a runner’s body. Which made sense for what it was. 

Digitigrade or plantigrade? Hmm… He’d have to experiment with both to see how they looked and felt but for now he gave the sculpture digitigrade feet.

The head was the angular shape of wild breeds, but he preferred the drooping ears of domesticated ones. If he didn’t like how they felt he could change it later.

The fingers were a bit shorter and wider than a human’s, but that was to accommodate the paw pads. They would still be fully articulated and feature opposable thumbs.

Finally the tail at the base of the spine, which didn’t need to be anything more than a ball of fluff.

Now for a color.

Well he did like how the mane on his dragon form looked.

A quickly muttered spell and the majority of the clay figure changed to a deep chocolate brown.

Tang stared at the anthropomorphic rabbit he now held.

Something inside of him clicked into place.

“What do you have there?”

Tang jumped a bit as Pigsy looked over to look at the figure in his hands.

“Hey, that's really good.” Pigsy gave Tang a questioning glance. “Is this…?”

“I… I think this is my choice.”

Tang quickly hardened the clay figure so it wouldn’t break and set it on the coffee table in front of him so everyone could see.

“So… What do you think?”

“You know I was joking when I mentioned rabbits,” Macaque said with a surprised expression.

“I know, but it felt… Right.”

“That’s a pretty cool fursona you got there, Tang!” Mei was snapping a few pictures of the figure. “Do you take commissions?”

“It’s not a fursona, Mei!” MK paused as he thought about it. “Okay, so maybe it is a little. But the important thing is: is this what you really want?”

“It… It is.”

“Then it’s perfect!”

“Are you going to try transforming into it now,” Red Son asked.

“Not yet. There’s a few smaller details and, ah, bits I need to finalize.”

“If you need any help, let me know,” Wukong said. “Transformations are kind of one of my specialties.”

“Right now I think I just want to get something to eat,” Tang said as he stood. “It’s almost time for lunch, right?”

“Just about. We have some leftovers we can heat up today,” Pigsy said before glaring at Wukong and Macaque. “I shouldn’t have to remind you to drop your disguises, correct?”

“We, uh, aren’t actually disguised as each other right now,” Macaque said sheepishly.

Everyone else paused and stared at the two monkeys.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s great you feel comfortable as yourselves around us,” Tang said. “Now let's go eat!”

As they all trooped out of the living room, Tang took one last look at the figure sitting on the coffee table.

If Wukong and Macaque could finally feel safe in their own skins, one he made for himself would give him no trouble at all.

With a smile he turned to join his family.

The future looked hopeful.

----------

Are you still with us after getting through all that? Good. Because it’s official! Tang is free! Both from Lady Bone Demon and the harsh restrictions of the cycles!

Of course, not everything is 100% OK yet either. Tang is kind of messed up now. Plus all the rules he’s been living by for centuries have been irrevocably changed. There’s going to be a lot of growing pains as we head into what I’m calling “The Healing Arc”. Nothing as bad as when LBD was possessing Tang, but it won’t all be sunshine and roses.

So @animemoonprincess' Doppelganger AU is pretty interesting! It’s got a perfect blend of wacky humor and serious emotional depth that I felt was perfect for Tang’s first cycle back in control. ( I was unfortunately unable to add Tang dipping a Kitkat into orange juice but maybe in a future chapter. ;P ) Also shout out to @unseelie-robynx for contributing quite a bit to this AU as well!

There’s some retconning of the Golden Dragon Tang AU here. I was a dumdum who did not do his proper research back when I wrote that initial chapter. I’m not going to go back and edit it however, so it will sit there mocking me and always remind me to do my due diligence from now when it comes to research! Also you’ll get ALL the internet points if you can figure out how I picked Ao Lun’s name!

We also had a brief appearance of @winterpower98's Swap AU once again!

The song that Red Son sings to calm Tang down is I’ll Think Of You by Kurt Hugo Schneider. I’ve loved this song for a very long time and feel that it fits the story perfectly. I wish there was a fourth verse…

(Also I’ve decided Demon Bull Brother Tang is a complete and utter Troll. XD)

That story sequence was planned for quite some time. It was originally supposed to include Tang bringing out a lantern he made out of the white clay and doing a shadow play as he told the story, but I just couldn’t get it to flow well. May have to reuse that idea later on…

Last but not least we have Bunny Tang! No one seems to know who exactly started this idea, by my good friend @skellebonez has a fic about it called Cotton Tails and Borrowed Time that’s really good! Go give it a read! I was going to save this for a later chapter but then I realized it helped capstone the theme of Self in this chapter perfectly.

Now I have no idea when the next chapter will come out. I actually don’t have The Healing Arc planned out and I’m also currently without a job so I’ll be needing to put a lot of time into finding a new one. I’ll at least try my best and not let six months pass again this time!

Stay safe! We’ll get through this! I love you all!

Until next time!

[deepfriedhopesanddreams]

@viewer-of-many

The botbots may have doppels, but they also have "pure broken" form, a pure corruption.

These corrupted forms can do a lot of things. They can create "maps", a pocket dimension made from the corrupted emotions, it can also represent where the corruption began (like the labyrinths made by witches from Madoka magica, also Mutagon is more like a supernatural thing...). And cause a lot of damage.

The corrupted can be bigger or smaller than their original size. Their "pure broken" forms are almost similar to their doppels. It's possible to "cage" them in specially designed traps to pacify them. They also create "helpers" (like the familiars in Madoka magica) which also represent the corrupted phycology.

I wonder what you think and what would Heartstomper's "map" and "helpers" might be.

[chat-blanche]

Mirror, Mirror

“-- Why have you done this to me?” King Aloros demanded to the one who stole his identity. with a voice hoarse from the blow of seeing his own brother denying him and siding with the con by his silence.

“Don’t you yet see? I am you.” The Mad King circled the man contemptuously with a fierce loathing in his eyes, like a lion around his prey, “You died. For a few moments, you actually died. And let me out. Unfortunately you came to life again. So now there are two of us. It cant go on you know. One of us will have to go."  

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [5]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. 

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,761

A/N: i cannot wait to see what you all think of this latest development! please drop by my ask with thoughts or comments, and as always, thanks everyone for your patience! ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics​

To your absolute horror, Lloyd doesn’t stop. You’re dizzy, both from the realization and the even, steady grind of his hips. It’s terribly familiar, the way he touches you—like it’s not the first time. Your stomach rolls as an anguished wail tears from your lips at the thought, because it’s the same one you’ve been shoving down, burying underneath every single other thing you can think of, because it couldn’t be true. Ransom wouldn’t do that you, he wouldn’t—

But he has.

Lloyd clucks his tongue at you, and reaches forward to cup your face. “You can scream, Princess.” He grins. “I know you can’t keep quiet anyway.” His words turn your stomach. Your arms, previously paralyzed at your sides, come up to push frantically at his face and chest as you curse. 

“Get the fuck off me, Lloyd!” You scream, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t even falter as he continues to rut into your shamefully wet cunt. He doesn’t budge, like your blows don’t even hurt. It makes you even more panicked, your eyes growing wide as you sob. Frantically, you scream for your husband, your voice swallowed by the crashing surf. 

“Ransom—! Ran—” Lloyd silences you with a kiss, swallowing your fear as he presses his lips to yours. Your shock allows him entry, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you squirm beneath him. Lloyd catches your arms easily, forcing them back against the rock behind you.

“What’s the worst part, Princess?” He asks mockingly, his amused chuckle puffing against your lips. “That it’s me? Or that you liked it? That you always liked it?” You don’t want it to be true, shaking your head as you stare at him with tear-filled eyes. He nods in response, as slow and deliberate as his thrusts. Your stomach churns with the combination of this forbidden knowledge and the unwanted pleasure that creeps up your spine. 

He knows your body, that much is obvious. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before, a hundred thousand puzzle pieces falling perfectly into place as your life crumbles around them. Lloyd holds you like Ransom, kisses you like Ransom—

Or does Ransom kiss you like Lloyd?

He plays your body perfectly, like you’re an instrument he’s already  mastered.  Even as your head swims, the thick weight of his cock drawing pleasure from you even as you fight against it. You can hear it, how wet you are, how much your traitorous body is enjoying Lloyd. It’s maddening, the way you clench and quake beneath him, struggling ineffectually against pleasure you don’t want. He transfers both your wrists to one hand, using the other to cup your chin. 

“It’s really not as bad as you think,” he coos, dragging his thumb through your tears. He kisses you again, painfully softly. “I know what you like.” Lloyd’s fingers taste like the sea as he draws them across your trembling lips. “I know what you hate.” He traces circles around your puffy nipples, before painting stripes of salt-water down your belly. He spreads your lips wider with two fingers and draws those same circles around your clit. 

“I hate you!” You grit through clenched teeth, through your furious, shameful tears. Lloyd clucks his tongue, before leaning down to nose at the skin of your throat. 

“No you don’t, Princess. You love Ransom—so you love me. We’re the same, baby-doll.” He leans up, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t you get that yet?” You don’t want it to be true, it can’t be, they’re so different—but even as you think it, you know he’s not lying. You’re reeling, the stretch-burn, the raw pleasure of him inside you, the knowledge that he’s been there before—

You wail as you cum, staring unseeingly at the sky. Lloyd doesn’t even give you the courtesy of slowing down, instead fucking you steadily through it with his cock and fingers buried in your cunt. He carries you, unwilling, from one height to the next, twitching and pleading. When he finally pulls his fingers from your soaked folds, he sucks them clean. 

“Love you so much, Princess,” he groans, rocking his hips steadily into yours as you mewl miserably. “I can wait for you to know you love me too.” His fingers press the skin of your hips like Ransom’s. Lloyd sucks your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth with a growl. He holds you still while he empties into you. As he pants against your mouth, he grins. 

“Feels good not to have to pretend.” 

“Get off me.” You hiss at him, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. This time, he listens. He pulls out of you with an appreciative hum, stopping briefly to admire the slick, sticky mess he’s made. You pull your swimsuit down roughly, tugging your shirt tightly around yourself like a shield while you grab your now soaked shorts from the water, and begin to struggle into them. 

“Let me—”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You shriek, jumping further backwards into the surf. You slip on the rocks, barely remaining upright as you scramble away. “Y-you don’t touch me!” You brandish a slick rock in your hand as threateningly as you can. “I—I’m going to tell Ransom, an-and—”

The look he gives you is almost pitying. “Oh Princess. Go on and tell him.” He nods at you with a sick smile. “Tell me what he says.” Lloyd holds his hands up as you retreat, giving him as wide a berth as you an as you circle back to shore. He doesn’t follow you, watching as you stumble across the sand.  You head into the trees and underbrush ringing the beach, fleeing your brother-in-law’s gaze. You know the general direction of the hotel, and you head that way, opting not to go back to the party. 

The party. Your stomach turns as you think of it now, Linda’s words holding fresh meaning now. Did she know? Did Ransom? The entire idea was so ludicrous you could scarcely believe it was really happening—but it was. It had. The evidence of Lloyd’s transgression was smeared between your salt-stained thighs. You want to vomit, and so you do, leaning against a tree as you heave into the sand. 

“Sweetheart?” 

You look up, your eyes wild. It’s Ransom—or Lloyd. You don’t know, now, torn between wanting to rush into his arms, or turn and run. You simply stare at him distrustfully, mirroring his step forward with one back, maintaining the distance between you with careful precision. 

“Baby, what’s wrong? You just wandered off, and—”

“Are you Lloyd?” You ask sharply, swallowing the desire to respond to his concern. You can’t trust your own eyes now, not anymore, and you don’t want to get close enough to verify. 

Ransom stares at you confusedly. 

“No? Why would you ask me that? Did something happen?” He takes another step closer, his arms outstretched placatingly. There’s true worry on his face as he takes in your wretched state, your open shirt and wet shorts, dirty feet and missing shoes. “Baby, did something happen?” He asks again, slower and more deliberate. You want to believe him, this man wearing your husband’s wedding ring, staring at you with the same eyes as the man you’d run away from. 

“Tell me something about the fountain.” 

“The what?” 

“The fountain!” You shrill hoarsely. “The fountain, from—”

“The one in the village,” Ransom finishes. “With the messed up tiles.” 

This time, you can’t stop yourself from rushing into his arms, sobbing. 

“I—Lloyd, he—” The words won’t come out between your hiccoughing sobs, and you settle for burying your face in his chest as Ransom wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly, pressing you to his body as you wail. The truth sticks in your throat like taffy as you tangle your fingers in his shirt, tears soaking into the expensive fabric. 

“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” His voice is soothing. “I’m here. I got you, okay? I got you.” He doesn’t rush you, waiting until the tears slow to press a kiss into your hair. “You don’t have to talk right now. Let’s get you back to the room, okay?”

Ransom practically carries you through the underbrush, emerging near the  long stairwell up from the beach. Your family—and his—are still down at the party, but you barely spare them a glance as you stagger up the sandy concrete steps. Before long, the ringing in your ears blocks out the music anyway, and all you can think about is Lloyd’s response to your threat. 

Go on and tell him. Tell me what he says.  

Lloyd is nowhere to be seen as you enter the villa, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You didn’t even realize you’d been watching for him, waiting for him to appear like he always did—but he doesn’t. You’re relieved as Ransom leads you back into the bedroom and closes the door behind you. For a moment, you’re not sure what to do with yourself, standing blankly by the door while Ransom watches you helplessly. 

“Sweetheart… can you tell me?” He asks, resting his hands on your shoulders. You flinch at his touch instead of leaning into it, and pain flashes briefly across your face. Somehow, you are hesitant to name the shape of the monster that haunts you even now, like Lloyd had cursed your jaw to stick. With difficulty, your force it open. 

“He—he pretended… he was you. And… we… I didn’t know, Ran, I didn’t know it wasn’t you,” you babble, tears forming in your red, glassy eyes. You’re expecting to see his face crease with disgust at the part you won’t say out loud, but it doesn’t. Ransom’s silent, his face scrunching first with disappointment and then anger. You can tell he’s looking for an outlet, and he settles on routine. 

“Did you take your vitamins, Sweetheart?” He replies, a worried hand on your belly. “Does anything… hurt?” You shake your head. 

“N-no.” Ransom turns to the dresser, grabbing the bottles and shaking out your pills one by one. You take them, shuffling into the suite’s bathroom. You  a cup cool water from the faucet and bring it to your lips, swallowing them down with a grimace. 

“Let’s get you a bath, Baby.”

You nod wordlessly.

Ransom helps you get undressed, and you watch his jaw tic at Lloyd’s drying cum on your thighs. He fills the whirlpool tub with hot water, and you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as you watch him. When it’s full, he helps you into it before splashing into the water himself. He sits on the back side of the tub with you between his knees, reaching down to hold you as you sink into the water. 

You lean back against your husband, fresh tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. I want to wake up now. There’s little you wouldn’t give to open your eyes and find yourself on the beach, this terrible nightmare broken. But when you do open your eyes, you’re still in the bathroom, your husband’s hands rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you wash away the evidence of his brother’s sin. 

“Oh Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what to say.” He strokes your hair as he speaks to you softly, gently, like he’s soothing an animal. “Lloyd’s a lot of things. Impatient, being chiefest among them.” You freeze, the air seeming to flow right out of your lungs—out of the whole room. The dripping of the faucet is as loud as thunder. 

“W-what?”

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, Sweetheart, believe me.” You wrench yourself away from him, water sloshing over the sides of the tub as you stare at your husband in disbelief. It feels like reality is crumbling to nothing as you  watch, bleached into dust by the brightness of his sad smile. It’s all you can see. 

“N-no, no no no no—” He reaches for you, and you slap his had away, tripping as you scramble out of the tub. “You knew.” You moan, bile rising in your throat as you wrap a towel around yourself. “You—you always knew.” Ransom rises from the lip of the tub and steps out onto the tile. You want to vomit, but there’s nothing left to bring up as you dry-heave into the sink. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to calm down, this stress isn’t good for the baby.”

“The baby—” You let out a despairing little laugh. “How long, Ransom?” You ask him hoarsely. “How long have you been letting this happen?” Finally, your husband has the decency to look ashamed. 

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” You scream, pounding a fist against the counter. “Yes it fucking matters!”

“I think before New Years, last year.” 

“A—a year?” You choke out the words as you clutch your belly with a shaking hand. The baby—you don’t even know if it’s Ransom’s. You feel dirty, despite having bathed. Deeper than your skin, like something inside is tainted, rotten. You want to crawl out of it, leave it behind like a shell. Perhaps then you might be able to draw enough air into your tight lungs to be able to do more than sputter your husband’s words back at him in abject disbelief. 

You don’t want to relive the last year and a half but you can’t help it, flipping through the moments like flash cards as you try to pinpoint every transgression, every lie. For every possible memory that feels wrong, there are dozens of blank spaces, empty places where recollection should be. Your husband had poked his finger through the thin saran wrap of your memories, and you hadn’t even realized it was happening. 

Ransom reaches forward to rest a hand on your back and you shove him so hard he stumbles, your eyes wild. 

“Don’t touch me. You—you will never touch me again.” You hiss, the words ragged. Ransom scowls at you as you storm out of the bathroom, the towel still clutched against your heaving chest. You can barely hear anything over the sound of your own ragged breathing and the thundering of your heart. They’d been switching off for over a year, and you hadn’t even noticed. Sickness and shame twine in your gut as you snatch the clothes in the closet off their hangers, throwing them into your open suitcase without bothering to fold them.

“Sweetheart, don’t be rash. The baby—”

“Will not even know your name.” You don’t look at Ransom—you can’t. You feel like you don’t even know him, and you can’t help but wonder if you ever did. He’d known—hell, maybe he’d even participated in Lloyd’s sick games. The man you’d thought you married would never have stood for that. You grit your teeth as Ransom scoffs amusedly behind you. 

“You’re just going to pack your suitcase and go, is that it?” There’s a cruel edge to his voice you don’t recognize—it makes him sound like Lloyd. “Baby I’m just trying to give you what you want.” You glare at him over your shoulder before returning to packing, refusing to even entertain the discussion. You push past him to get to the dresser, pulling out the rest of your things. 

“You’re not thinking clearly, and I think if you really stopped and gave it some thought, you’d realize you’re making a mistake.” 

“Oh, I’m the one making the mistake?” You can’t help but turn to spit venom over your shoulder. “You and your brother took turns on me like a fucking carnival ride, but I’m making a mistake?”

“You wanted a big family, a stable family. One nobody could touch—”

“You’re sick.” You swallow against the bitter acid in your throat. “How can you try to make this okay? I—I never want to see you again. Ever. I—I really, truly mean that.” The needle inside you continues to swing between rage and abject horror as you dress yourself, practically shoving your limbs into the most convenient pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Your head buzzes with the turmoil of it all, practically full to bursting. Your passport is still in the bedside table, and you make sure you grab it, shoving it into your pocket before throwing open the bedroom door. 

It’s hard to breathe around the ache in your chest as you drag your heavy suitcase down the hallway, trying to ignore the sound of your husband behind you. You’re bordering on hysteria, frantic tears and snot running down your face as you flee your husband’s placating words. That’s probably the most maddening part of it—how he continues to parse out the words slowly, patiently, like he’s waiting for you to realize how sensible he’s being. You’re about ten seconds away from clapping your hands over your ears like a child, so you don’t have to hear him anymore

“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.” Ransom calls after you. You stagger against the wall as your knees tremble, but you force yourself through it. Your heart is beating wildly, your palms clammy as you look back at your husband. You don’t expect to see him smiling. “You’re not being rational, baby.” 

You don’t even know how to respond. The only words that seem to come to mind are insults, curses; the violent ills you’re currently wishing on your husband and his family. You can’t listen to him—it’s only going to make you more enraged. You already feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest, as you gulp down ragged breaths, your vision swimming. You rest a hand against the kitchen island, your whole body throbbing hotly with your pulse. 

“Shut the fuck up, Ransom,” you pant. “You can’t spin this.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ignores your acid glare, leaning forward to curl a lock of your hair around his finger. You push him away, but the movement is clumsy, your hand swinging bonelessly at the end of your arm. “You know how persuasive I can be.”

“You’re really just like him.” It slips out before you can stop it as you shake your head in astonishment. 

“Oh what, you just figure that out?” Ransom’s voice is mockingly soft. “It took you long enough.”

You slap him. 

The sound of it is loud and sharp, and Ransom’s head actually turns with the force of it, your husband stumbling back a few steps. It was his surprise that had allowed it—you and Ransom had never struck each other, not counting the playful smacks he delivered in the bedroom. For a moment he stays like that, frozen, before slowly turning to look at you. Your wedding ring had split his lip, and you watch as he draws his thumb across it smearing the bright line of crimson across his mouth. 

“You’re starting to piss me off, Sweetheart.” His hand clamps so tightly around your wrist that it hurts, and you yelp, pushing uselessly at his chest. Ransom had never been violent with you, never even given you reason to suspect he would raise a hand to you, but as he bends you over the kitchen island, you feel fear. Your husband twists your arms behind your back, ignoring your pained whimper when he squeezes too tight. 

This—this isn’t happening. It’s not. My family is here, my, my father—

You wail, the sound muffled by the marble countertop and your tears, salt and snot running onto the counter beneath your cheek. 

“Just let me go, Ransom—”

“Oh Baby we are way past that.” The kiss he presses into your hair makes nausea churn in your belly, and you let out another sob. “I put a ring on that—where’s your finger, baby, let me see—ah! There it is.” Ransom holds your hand up, his fingers digging into the meat of your palm. “On that finger,” he continues, tapping the diamond with his fingernail. “Till death do us part, Sweetheart, that’s what we said. That’s what you promised me—and Lloyd.” 

 “You’re crazy—” The words stick in your throat as your vision tunnels. I feel sick. You do, your stomach churning as your heartbeat thunders in your ringing ears. 

“Wha-you do’t me?” The words are like bubblegum in your mouth as your husband chuckles softly. 

“You didn’t really think those were all vitamins, did you?” Your eyes widen with horror as you begin to struggle again, flailing your uncoordinated limbs as you try to force Ransom off of you. “Now don’t worry, it’s nothing that could hurt the baby,” he says reassuringly, as if that is your only cause for concern. 

“Noo,” you moan, wriggling feebly beneath him as you feel yourself recede further and further into your body. “Don’ wannit.”

“I know, Sweetheart. But what you want isn’t good for the family,” he says, stroking a gentle finger over the curve of your cheek. “You want to run, too run from what we’re trying to build with you. For you,” Ransom releases you as the sound of nearby voices reach your buzzing ears. “I’m not going to let that happen.” 

He steps away from you as Nathalie bursts through the door, holding a champagne bottle by the neck as she dances to music blaring from her phone speakers. 

“There you are, chica, we were looking—mom! Dad! She’s in here! I thought you—are you okay?” She sets the bottle down on the small table to the right of the sliding door. She rushes over to you, looping one limp arm around your shoulders as concern sets into the lines of her face. “Jesus, I—Ransom! What’s wrong with her?!”

Your husband appears in your tunnel-vision, carding a worried hand through his hair. 

“Thank fucking Christ, Nathalie—I was just going to text you. I think she’s having a reaction to something, I don’t know—” 

“Nn-Nat don-bel—eev ‘m,” your warning slurs together into an unintelligible soup as your head lolls. Nathalie tries to stand you up against the counter, and dimly you are aware of her calling for your parents, her voice muffled like she’s talking underwater. 

Lloyd—or is it Ransom?—lays you down on the countertop, his grinning face looming over you as your vision narrows down to a pinprick, the concern in his voice at complete odds with the grin on his face.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”

to be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[dreemurr-skelememer]

happy birthday to @impostortale's doppel!!!! i wish you a very Therapy

[crudaka]

That's not my neighbor but the neighbors are actually doppelganger traps created by the DDD MORE PAGES:

[doppelneer]

Me talking to my friend about my Season of Abyss AU at 3am

Two versions because yes

April fool's? More like I'm the one who is the fool.

Bonus backgrounds and things below :)

Mural with stuff behind it

Just the stuff (have fun looking at my mess)

The more elaborate mural

The inspiration from other places board

Bonus picture of my cat Sakura

[superbat-love]

Sci-fi Horror AU. At first glance, Bruce seemed to have it all—a respected career as a scientist at a top research facility, a large home in a coveted district, and a loving partner employed at a prestigious law firm. However, beneath the surface, Bruce was trapped in an unhappy relationship and suspected his partner of infidelity.

The only source of solace in his life was his work studying Subject 1938, also known as Kal-El. The tiny alien blob seemed to have formed an attachment to Bruce, often chirping excitedly whenever Bruce held him.

One evening, Clark, Bruce's partner, announced plans to dine with a client. Bruce noted Clark's overdressed appearance, unsuitable for a business meeting, and simply nodded in response. Little did Bruce know, that would be the last time he saw Clark and Kal-El.

Clark never returned home, prompting Bruce to report him as missing. Despite months of investigation, the police found no trace of them. Clark was initially suspected to have stolen Kal-El for monetary reasons, but there was no concrete evidence. It was as if both of them had just vanished into thin air.

Then, unexpectedly, Clark reappeared at Bruce's doorstep one day. “Where have you been? Do you know how worried I was?” Bruce exclaimed.

Clark smiled. “Don’t cry, Bruce. What’s important is that I’m back now. Let’s go and have dinner together, okay?” Overwhelmed with emotion, Bruce could only nod in response as Clark enveloped him in a hug and buried his face in the curve of his neck, chirping with affection.

[neonthewrite]

Gilded Birdcage

Today's prompt is "Bird", and really the only thing that comes to mind for that one is Adrian, specifically Adrian from a trust AU that I don't think @creatorofuniverses and I have elaborated on that much. The Doppelganger AU has some artwork out there ... and also one other bit of writing that has nothing to do with where Adrian is in the AU. So this could probably be taken mostly standalone!

Poor Adrian.

~~~

Adrian can’t count the days he’s spent in that golden cage. It’s usually hard to focus on something for too long. His attention always fractures, fluttering to something else, especially the few tokens and baubles in the cage with him. The gentle swaying of the cage doesn’t help, hanging from a hook on the ceiling of the witch’s traveling cart. She has a lot of fancy things to catch the eye, feathers and furs and trinkets and cloth. The cart is an explosion of colors inside and out, wherever they go.

She trades these things, hands them all back and forth amidst friendly conversations, words that he knows in his rapidly-beating heart that he understands and yet struggles to parse or remember. He has tried to speak to her curious customers too. His voice comes out in delicate whistles and chirps, a new song every time that never matches what he wants to convey. They smile in fascination at him. Tell him he is so pretty, yes he is, and what a fine little helper he is to his witch.

Indeed, his songs draw attention, though not the kind he sometimes wishes. No one looks at him and sees someone in need of help. They see a pretty little bird, perched in a pretty little cage, singing a pretty little song. It brings customers close enough for the witch to strike up a conversation with them, really; that’s why she hangs his cage by the window when she goes into town to open up her cart. A witch with an endearing little songbird promises interesting wares, if nothing else.

One or two have tried to buy him before. They hold out very shiny things, and lots of them, while pointing at his cage where it hangs by the cart’s window. His witch never accepts these offers.

He’s mine, she always says, and for some reason those words don’t give him the same trouble the others do. He’s mine, forever and always.

Certainly, he is cared for, as well as one might expect someone to care for a small bird. His feathers, the palest yellow, always have a healthy shine to them. He has several perches in his gilded cage, ones that feel nice on his feet when he grips them. The witch gives him berries and greens and, occasionally, seeds. He isn’t sure why, but these things always delight him, filling him with excitement when offered.

He hasn’t always been this way. He doesn’t know when it happened. He hasn’t always had wings; once upon a time he had hands, just like the humans he sees in great numbers most days. He had long legs, he had front facing eyes. He … he’d been a human before. Trying to remember it only gives him a kaleidoscope of confusing memories.

~~~

He brings a book of blank paper to the woods. His fingers smudge with charcoal. The image of the forest is suddenly repeated on the paper.

She smiles at him. Where did she come from? She smiles so wide, her eyes big and delighted.

He’s dwindling. The world grows larger. He looks to her for help but that smile remains.

He’s small and confused. The grass stands over him. He stumbles, something is wrong with his legs. His heart beats so rapidly it’s all he can feel, the fluttering in his chest. He again tries to ask for help. Only whistles come out.

He runs. He stumbles. He shoots out his hands to catch himself‒he doesn’t have hands. In their place, wings.

Wings! I’m a… the thought falls away from him like rain off a window. He doesn’t understand. The world looks so different.

She’s coming closer. She’s still smiling. Where did she come from?

You’re mine, she tells him as she stoops over him. Mine forever and always. She reaches for him. Her hand is bigger than his body now.

He has wings. He can fly away. Adrian spreads those wings, entirely new to him, and flutters into the air. It feels wrong. He can’t move them the right way. He has tail feathers now, too. They don’t cooperate. He doesn’t get very far. A hand closes around him.

~~~

Adrian doesn’t really have other memories beyond those. He can’t make much sense of them, either. They always feel present, yet distant, something he could hold onto without fully knowing why.

He sings when she asks. Even when he doesn’t feel like singing, it warbles out of him, a little tune from the golden bird in the golden cage. She’s a proud witch; she’s happy with him. When she closes up the cart for the night, she murmurs nice words at him.

Sometimes she even opens up the cage and lets him hop onto her offered finger. She whistles with him, strokes the crest feathers atop his head with a fingertip. It feels nice, especially when he’s molting (he molts from time to time now, and it’s agonizingly itchy). She loves him. She tells him so, and he understands. Then she closes him in the cage again with that same delighted smile he remembers. It’s hard to be afraid of that smile anymore. The memory is so old, though he’s unsure exactly how old. Surely he doesn’t have it completely right.

He’s only a bird, after all. He can’t be expected to remember things perfectly.

He’s hers. Hers forever and always.

[mewintheflesh-2]

Somwtjing something Francis being forced to kill to defend himself from doppels

It starts out with just one, he thinks it'll be an isolated situation, more for his own sanity than anything else, as I dont think he'd be too keen on having to kill anything, doppelganger or not.

But he just

Keeps getting fucking bombarded by them to the point where he actually starts to carry a weapon with him at all times instead of just having to break one of the glass milk bottles to make a spur of the moment weapon. Which, he was not too happy about.

Something something he's eventually forced to kill someone with the face of his own neighbor as the doorman had accidentally let a doppel inside the building, and with him having experience in killing them himself, and there not really being any time for error or for him to call the D.D.D., he just fucking kills them himself. Bonus if someone sees him do this and thinks he killed one fo the neighbors

Bonus bonus if the person who the doppel was copying sees him kill their duplicate and starts having some second thoughts about Francis as a person after seeing them kill someone with their face so easily nearly without hesitation. (There was hesitation, they just didn't see or didn't notice it.)

So uh, in this context, assuming doppel blood isn't a different color than human blood, Scarlet Milk Francis could really be the real Francis, couldnt he

ALSO bonus bonus bonus, Francie being forced to kill somebody with his own face and body, (ish, depends how weird the doppel is, like if it's Hoon man, I don't think he'd have as much trouble killing him. Don't get me wrong, he'd still have trouble with that, seeing as it's till a doppel of him, and pretty damn close to him if it weren't for the face. I do think he would be freaked the fuck out by him otherwise considering.........yknow......... just fuckin- look at him! If you had to deal with a doppel of yourself with that face, and listen to their garbled attempts at human speech as they try to fucking kill you, you'd be freaked out too.)

[deepfriedhopesanddreams]

My heart: ok... Ummm, what happens when you mix Mutagon with botbots and humans? And is it similar to Miko and the humans from Eatha, Cavalyyx, Corrin, Apidae and Yuukai by any chance?

Me: Miko and the human hybrids are different, it's more of a genetic thing. But if you mix botbots or humans who don't have Mutagon present in them... Well it's something...

My heart:...?

Me: ever heard of Magia record and doppels? Because that's what it is like...

My heart: oh...

[chat-blanche]

Me @ Me: ok but yeah Mad King can lock Aloros away and/or order his execution for treason of impersonating the king but… a king getting outlawed from his own kingdom tho?? 👀