#jing king

[whisker-biscuit]

The Lines We Cross: Chapter 25

A Desperate Race

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It’s not when my voice is raised that you should worry. It’s when I have nothing more to say.

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The Panda King’s bedroom was deceptively modest compared to the rest of his fortress. There was no glamor or declarations of wealth; the furniture was simple and functional, the walls were bare, and the only real indication that this room belonged to him was the bundle of fireworks propped up against a corner. Fireworks were forbidden inside the stronghold for everyone except the crime lord, and these were ones that he always carried for personal protection.

Sly didn’t give a damn about them. What he was scouting for, as he slipped inside and began tearing the room apart, was much more flammable.

The dresser yielded nothing after scattering its contents, so he turned to the futon – ripping sheets away, flipping the mattress, checking the lining for secret pockets. When that proved fruitless as well, the raccoon began banging his cane against the floor and walls with growing frustration.

There – a hollow sound in the seam between two wood panels in the wall closest to the bed. Sly pressed the cane more firmly into the hidden pocket to find the very center, then pulled back to swing at it with all his might. It cracked apart easily, leaving a large hole for him to stick his hand into until his fingers closed around a small metal box.

Its lock came undone with just a few turns of his lockpick. He opened it to the sight of the Panda King’s portion of the Thievius Raccoonus, and when he gently pulled them out, there was a separate paper underneath that did not belong to the rest despite looking just as old. The raccoon felt relief flood his body as he recognized the symbols matching those of the safe he couldn’t crack.

This was the last thing he needed. He could go back, get those last few pages from Clockwerk, and then the game would finally be over.

He’d be free.

The sound of heavy, familiar approaching footsteps made him hold his breath. He pressed himself up against a wall and disappeared from sight just in time for the Panda King to slide open the door. The panda froze at the sight of his room turned upside down, then hurried inside to gape at the hole in the wall that blatantly told him what had been robbed. Sly was still holding the box and its precious contents; his grip tightened possessively when King’s gaze passed unknowingly over his imperceptible form.

“No…” The crime lord muttered in horror. “No, no!”

He turned and rushed from the room, leaving the raccoon alone with his prize. Sly waited until he was certain that the other wouldn’t return before exhaling to drop the invisibility and creeping towards the open door. He peered out cautiously, still hearing King’s heavy footfalls heading in the direction that he himself was planning to go.

Well, there was little point in stealth now. It was obvious what Sly had taken, and it was obvious that the panda expected to intercept him there. If this was going to be a confrontation, then he’d face it as the final hurdle to this entire ordeal that it was.

He closed the box and stashed it in his backpack, retracing his steps to the top of the statue at a much slower pace. His heart was pounding in his chest and his hands were sweating under his gloves, but his mind was crystal clear with what he had to do. Any shred of fear was replaced by adrenaline and grim determination.

As expected, he was not alone when he reached the observatory. The Panda King stood in the center of the room, blocking the safe from sight of the only entrance. Sly’s lip curled as he stepped out from the shadows and into the light, making his presence undeniably known.

“Move,” he growled, hefting his cane to add weight to the command.

King did not move. He was stiff and rigid, staring the raccoon down with a face pinched in pity. It riled Sly up even more.

“Move, King, or I’ll make you.”

“You are welcome to try,” the panda said solemnly. His hands came up in a pacifying gesture. “But I will not go easy on you, Sly Cooper. I have warned you that this path was not a good one to take.”

“And I told you that you don’t know what you’re talking about!” Sly yelled. “What gives you the right to act like you care now? You never cared about me. You never had a conscience about what happened to me, no matter how much you pretended you did.”

“You are welcome to believe that, Cooper. I know there are no excuses to my actions – but please, if there is a single thing in which I can convince you, let it be that opening this safe will not save you. It will only doom you.”

The man was trying to placate him. His voice was soft and stressed, and he was looking at the raccoon like he was having a tantrum; like he was still the tiny terrified child constantly trying to escape while King was right there to stop it every step of the way.

Sly felt his lips curl back into an ugly snarl. Two could play at this game.

“You think you’re so high-and-mighty,” he said, voice low. “You think you’re so much better than them because you never laid a hand on me, but you’re not. You hurt me in ways that scarred just as deep as what he left on me. You’re not a hero, you’re not an innocent bystander – you’re not even a good villain, because at least they never deluded themselves into thinking what they were doing wasn’t evil. You’re just a frustrated fireworks forger turned homicidal pyromaniac who’s convinced himself he still has the moral high ground so he doesn’t have to face reality!”

King’s expression contorted in a flash of anger. Whatever nerve the raccoon had struck, it had struck hard; flames began to spark against his palms and up his arms. He shifted, placing one foot behind him to form a defensive position as his hands began to burn. Sly tensed with his cane at the ready.

“Since you are so intent on rushing blindly to your death, I see I can no longer convince you. To honor your life, your struggles, and your tenacity, I will give you a proper, glorious end with the beauty of my firework technique – Flame Fu!”

He launched the first fireball.

Sly was already running.

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She was crying. When had she started crying?

Carmelita touched her hand to her cheek and was startled to feel it come away wet. She blinked until she was certain it would stop, then looked at Jing King, who had no such qualms about hiding her emotions. Tears flowed freely down the poor girl’s face as she finished recounting everything her father had told her about Sly Cooper.

The inspector still remembered seeing the scars. There was no way she could ever forget them – those three jagged marks across Sly’s body that he had insisted was nothing more than a machinery mishap. His careful sidestep of that truth had matched every other lie by omission he had fed her for all their time together, but now she had all the missing pieces Jing had placed before her. How they lined up perfectly to form a picture she had been almost willfully blind to.

Different emotions warred within her; horror at what he’d gone through, rekindled anger at the Fiendish Five for the compounded list of atrocities they had committed to no one’s knowledge but their own, her own sense of justice struggling to drown out everything else to shout at her that he was still a criminal who had to answer for the things he’d done.

And beneath all of that, quiet and concerned and persistent – confusion. Hurt. They had worked together. He had trusted her; had told her how difficult that was for him to do, and now she knew exactly why. He had even told her, in the midst of their terrible falling out, that he’d believed she was strong enough to take down the Five for good.

So why hadn’t he told her any of this? Had he still thought so lowly of cops – of her – that it didn’t cross his mind? If she had succeeded in arresting everyone in the group before their blowout had happened, would he have realized he was safe enough to share those secrets without risk of them coming after him, or would he have kept up his lies as long as he could regardless?

She didn’t know. And now, after seeing the way he had looked at her the last time they met, she doubted she’d ever get the chance to learn.

“…Inspector Fox?”

Jing King’s voice was soft and uncertain. She wrung her hands nervously, watching the fox and waiting for a proper response to all the secrets she had just shared.

“I – give me a minute,” Carmelita said, eternally grateful she didn’t sound as shaken up as she felt. “It’s just a lot to process. Did you – can I ask a few more questions?”

The panda nodded, setting her hands down in her lap as she patiently waited for the follow-up. She looked considerably calmer than she’d been when she’d first started talking. Inspector Fox was envious.

“Did you ever see him again after that? After – after they took him away, I mean. Not the…you know.”

“I did not see him while he was working for them, no,” she replied somberly. “If he was ever brought to my father’s territory here in Kunlun during those six years, I was not aware of it. After he escaped, he found his way to my aunt’s house where I was living at the time, and stayed with me for a few days to search for pages of the Thievius Raccoonus…and to recover.”

She gave her a long, slow once-over as she said it, and Carmelita wondered what she was being judged for. Had Sly told her about their fight, or did the girl simply blame her for his condition in the aftermath? She chose her next words carefully, mindful of the layer of mistrust that still persisted between them.

“You mentioned earlier that he wasn’t interested in getting the book back when he was first trying to escape. What changed?”

Jing pursed her lips. “I am uncertain. My father does not know, either, but he suspects it has something to do with Clockwerk’s original prediction that Sly would go after it, and the conversation he had with him that my father was not privy to. Whatever was said between them changed Sly’s priorities.”

The fox thought back to the moment Sly had declared that he would come with her after the rest of the Five. He had told her that he was doing so because he wouldn’t feel safe until they were put away, but she still remembered the look on his face, and even back then had known that there was something else to it. He had been almost manic in his reaction, as though his entire life hinged on convincing her to let him join. After learning he had been part of their team, she’d thought the root of that obsession was revenge – and perhaps some of it still was, knowing the full story now.

But there was something she was missing, something they all were, and as theory after theory crossed her mind as to what, she couldn’t help but wonder, once again, why Sly would willingly throw himself back into the line of fire for the sake of a single book.

“Jing…do you know where your father is now?” She asked as a different thought suddenly occurred to her. “Because I was following Sly when I made it into this statue, and I haven’t seen him since.”

The girl looked up at her sharply. “He has been alternating his time between his room and the security station. Do you think they will encounter each other?”

“If the Panda King still has what Sly is looking for, then it’s very likely. In fact, it might have already happened.”

That statement seemed to terrify Jing. She stumbled to her feet as if to run off, but stopped immediately as she caught eyes with the inspector again.

“…You have yet to tell me what you plan to do,” she said, looking as though she wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room to find her family. The fact that she stayed put was a testament to her will, and Carmelita couldn’t help but respect it. “You said you want to help him; to right every wrong and ensure justice is done, but what does that mean? What will you do if we find my father? If we find Sly?”

“I…”

Honestly? She didn’t entirely know.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, hoping the truth was enough for now. “This is a more complicated situation than I realized, and Sly might not – well, he isn’t exactly trusting me anymore. But I’m hoping that he’ll at least be willing to talk. If we find him alone, I’m not going to threaten him. I just want to talk and – and figure things out from there.”

Jing studied her. “And…if we find my father instead?”

For that, there were no reservations. “I’m going to arrest him. I know you care about him, and it sounds like he has a lot of regrets, but he’s still done terrible things, Jing. Just today, even, he buried an entire town under snow. I can’t let him walk away from that.”

The girl took a deep breath and bowed her head with her eyes closed. When she seemed to come to terms with whatever future was in store for herself and her father, she opened her eyes, squared her shoulders, and held her hand out to Inspector Fox.

“I will help you find them,” she promised as the older woman took the offered hand. “I’ve been complicit in all of this for far too long, even though I was not aware of it. I refuse to be a pawn for evil any longer.”

Carmelita nodded, feeling a surge of her old resolve return for the first time since Wales. One way or another, it was time to make things right.

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Flames singed the fur along Sly’s cheek as he ducked a fist covered in fire by a hair’s breadth. He took advantage of the brief window in the Panda King’s defenses to slam his cane into his knee, watching with vicious satisfaction as it buckled under the blow. Then he was forced to dance out of range again when King’s other burning hand almost caught him around the waist in retaliation.

They were both breathing hard, slick with sweat from the heat and the fighting. Sly was fast but inexperienced in combat; his left arm throbbed from where the panda had grabbed it and nearly snapped it in two before he’d slipped out of the deadly hold, and shallow burns peppered his hoodie and his body. King, meanwhile, was struggling from the toll of old age; his hulking frame kept his endurance strong against a dozen harsh impacts by the metal cane, but it could only last so long as his energy waned more and more as the minutes ticked on.

Sly hurried to close the distance before the panda could gear up to start throwing fireballs and rockets and god knew what else, slipping in out of reach like a persistent butterfly and waling on his enemy at every opening he could find. The fight had led to them circling the room so that the safe was at the raccoon’s backside, but he dared not turn around to sprint for it until the threat was down for the count. King had not been bluffing about killing him, and he threw everything he had at him.

In some sick, twisted part of Sly’s mind, it almost felt good to be taken seriously for once in his life.

Finally, the fight hit its apex. He feinted right as though he was going to take aim for King’s knee again. The crime lord lunged low for him – and Sly jumped instead. He vaulted onto his giant outstretched arm, for a single moment, and sprang into the air again with the added height to bring his cane down directly over his head.

The Panda King collapsed with an audible thud.

Sly landed light as a feather in front of him despite the heave of his lungs and the burns across his body. He looked the panda over to make sure his fall wasn’t faked, then looked over at the safe still waiting for him. With one last venomous kick to the Five member’s side, he walked towards his prize while pulling the stolen box from his backpack.

It was child’s play to translate the code from paper to keypad; perhaps, ironically, the easiest thing to overcome among every trial he’d faced in the months it had taken to get here. With his heart practically beating out of his chest, feeling the rising hope that this game was finally over, the raccoon entered the final symbol and opened the safe door.

It was empty.

Sly stilled. No, that couldn’t be right. He put his hands inside, searching for an illusion or a hex that must have made the final pages invisible. When that yielded nothing, he felt about the inner walls for hidden compartments. Something cold and acidic began creeping its way up his throat and into his brain as the seconds ticked by and he couldn’t find the secret to the safe.

He closed the door. Opened it to the same sight. Closed it again and relocked it, then re-entered the code and swung the door open a third time.

Nothing. There was nothing there.

Static pressed into his nerves. His fingers were numb. Sly felt his legs give out beneath him and let them, collapsing to his knees in front of the farce of a safe as his cane slipped from his grip. It couldn’t be true. There had to be something there, or else he’d come all this way for nothing. He’d succeeded again and again, facing death and worse over and over to reach this ending, this promise – and it had led only to failure. He had failed.

No. No.

No.

A groan behind him redirected all his panic into rage in an instant. Sly picked up his cane and turned towards the Panda King, who was struggling to get to his feet with one hand against his head.

“Where are they.” It was a demand, not a question.

King looked up blearily, confused until his clouded eyes fell on Clockwerk’s open, empty safe and the dangerously motionless raccoon beside it. He shook his head, fighting another groan as he did so.

“Don’t give me that shit!” Sly stalked forward to jam the wooden end of his cane hard into the other’s shoulder. The firework forger lost his balance and what little ground he had gained, falling to his hands and knees almost instantly. “You’ve had this thing sitting here all these years, holding onto it for him. Going on and on about my goals having no good ending. There’s no fucking way you don’t know where they really are!”

He shook his head again in silence.

“Tell me where the last pages are, King!”

“I do not know,” the panda finally said in the face of his shout, looking just as lost as him. Sly didn’t buy a word of it. “I was tasked with keeping the safe protected and told never to open it. I know just as much as you.”

The raccoon snarled and hooked the cane around the man’s neck. He yanked it forward, forcing King to remain kneeling as a shocked gaze met a blazing one. They were pressed nearly snout to snout.

“No more lies,” he growled. “No more mind games. No more turning a blind eye to what’s around you for your peace of mind. Tell me where Clockwerk hid his portion of the Thievius Raccoonus in your stronghold, or I’ll show you exactly how those talons felt across your own body.”

Sly stared at the Panda King. The Panda King stared at Sly. Nothing was said because nothing needed to be said as it hit him all at once. King wasn’t lying. He didn’t know any more than the raccoon did, but one truth had made itself clear between them.

The last of the book was not here. It had never been.

The weight of that comprehension nearly staggered Sly. He stared down at King’s remorseful form, still caught precariously by the weapon around his throat, and struggled to think through the sudden haze of a mocking, metallic voice in his head.

Oh, how stupid he was. How very, very stupid.

A delirious, frantic laugh bubbled its way out of his mouth. It was a single sound, one loud horrific realization that echoed around the room, as Sly Cooper looked back at the game he had played for over half his life and finally understood that he had never been another player to begin with. He had been its prize, that coveted thing that the Five had played for and used and fought over until it had finally slipped out of their greedy hands and into patient, waiting claws.

And those claws would not make the mistake of letting him live a second time.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t cry. He didn’t even get angry again. A heavy sort of finality settled over him in the wake of this revelation, scrubbing away all emotion and leaving only emptiness. Sly stared down at the Panda King, who stared back with wide eyes that – for the first time since he had ever met him – suddenly recognized the sight of someone well and truly having nothing left to lose.

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They found the crime lord’s room torn completely apart.

Jing stood in the doorway, shocked, while Carmelita searched the area just long enough to figure out what the path of destruction had been. Neither of them had to guess as to who was behind it.

“He must have found the rest of the book,” the inspector said grimly as she studied the empty hole in the wall. “He’s probably long-gone by now.”

“I hope so,” the girl replied, stepping aside to let her out of the room and into the hallway. “I hope he found everything he was looking for, and that he never has to return here again.”

Carmelita frowned, hearing the melancholy in her voice and unsure of whether it was her place to comfort the panda. Before she could decide either way, there was a sudden, distant shout from somewhere above them.

“Tell me where the last pages are, King!”

The fury in Sly’s voice startled her just as badly as the fact that she had heard it at all; never in her time knowing him had he ever been so loud. She whirled on Jing, who was staring up at the ceiling with her mouth agape.

“We need to find them now – where are the nearest stairs?”

The girl snapped out of her bewilderment and grabbed Carmelita by the wrist, hurrying towards the opposite end of the hall and around another corner until they found the way up. They both sprinted for all they were worth, making their way higher and higher until at last they came to the very top.

It was the room Inspector Fox had come in through with her jetpack when she’d followed Sly. That was the first thing she registered upon entering. The second thing was that of him standing over a kneeling Panda King, both looking banged up and exhausted.

The third thing was the Cooper cane wrapped around King’s neck.

Carmelita froze. Jing, behind her, did as well. Sly didn’t even seem to realize they had arrived; all his attention was on the crime lord at his mercy.

“I could kill you like this.” His voice was soft as a fallen snowflake and just as chilled. It sent a shiver down the fox’s spine. “I should kill you. After everything you’ve done, you don’t deserve mercy.”

The Panda King remained silent, head bowed and eyes closed. He appeared to have accepted his fate.

But Carmelita did not.

“Sly.”

Later, she would be surprised by how quiet her call to him had been – how it had sounded more like she was pleading with someone standing on the edge of a bridge instead of being about to kill a man. But right now, all she could focus on was the raccoon standing perfectly still in front of her.

“Sly, don’t do it.”

His head swiveled her direction first. His eyes followed at a delay as though detached from the rest of him.

“Oh. Carmelita. Hey.”

The way he looked at her was like nothing she had ever seen on anyone. Even in Wales, it had still been him under the walls he had put up. Right now, there was no sign at all of the ringtail she’d grown to care about.

There was nothing there at all.

“Funny seeing you here,” he continued without any inflection, as if they were simply conversing about the weather while he was two seconds away from snapping King’s neck. “You missed all the action, I’m afraid. Didn’t make it in time to kick ass and make arrests like you’re so good at.”

His blank gaze bore holes into her. She could see his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around the handle of his cane.

“Or maybe it’s not too late for that. I’m still here, after all. You could always go after me again.” His voice remained toneless, but his body began to shake. “You’ll probably catch me this time if you do. I’d call it a draw, since I won the last round, but I think you’ll win regardless in the end. What do you think?”

“Sly,” Carmelita repeated, slow and cautious. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, it’s not worth it. Please don’t do it.”

The raccoon tilted his head at her words, bizarrely similar to the way a bird would. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

There was no accusation there like she expected. Just a fact, stated simple and blunt.

“You’re right. I don’t know.” Her hands came up in surrender. His eyes tracked the movement with a lazy, deceptive precision. “I’ve been learning that more and more tonight – I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know how hard it must have been for you. I don’t know what you’ve had to do to survive. I’ve made a lot of assumptions about you all this time, and I have no excuse for the way I’ve treated you.”

Slowly, broadcasting every move she made, the inspector reached for the belt around her waist. Sly didn’t blink a single time as she removed it – and by extension, the holster containing her shock pistol – and dropped it to the ground. She picked the gun up by the toe of her foot and kicked it away, keeping her gaze on him as it skittered out of both of their ranges.

His expression did not change. The hold on his cane squeezed even tighter.

“I met your sister tonight, and she told me a little bit.” Carmelita leaned back on her heels to acknowledge the panda standing silent behind her, and she saw the moment Sly realized she was there too. For the very first time, his face flickered out of its emptiness, in and out in a blink, and she almost missed it. “She set me straight on all the things I’ve been wrong about.”

Next came the jetpack. It was harder to take off as smoothly as her pistol had been, but she tried her best. One strap off of one shoulder, the other off of the other, and she let it fall the same way. It clacked harshly against the hard ground, but neither of them flinched.

“What have you been wrong about?” He asked without any real weight to the question. “I’m a criminal. I’m a Cooper. I’m not worth anything except for how much I can get into trouble. That sums it up pretty well, doesn’t it?”

She swallowed. Searched the deepest parts of her training for every de-escalation tactic she had ever learned. Searched even deeper for the truths she had not allowed herself to face until now.

“You’re worth everything to me, Sly. I wouldn’t have even made it out of Mesa without you. I’d be dead countless times over without you. You believed in me when no one else would. I was a failure before we met. Everyone thought I was too impulsive, and a screw-up, and – and that I didn��t deserve my title or even my badge. I wasn’t just getting into trouble; I was getting everyone around me into trouble. That includes you. I made you believe you could trust me, and then I destroyed that trust out of stubborn ignorance.”

Carmelita held her hands out again – not in placation, but in welcoming. Recognition. An offer of peace between two equals.

“I’m sorry, Sly. I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t worth enough. You are. I –”

She hesitated, and then refused to do so any longer.

“I care about you, Ringtail. I have for a long time. And that’s never going to change, because you know how bull-headed I get when I set my heart on something. So please, please don’t do something that you’ll regret. Don’t do something that will make you hate yourself more than you already do. You deserve better than that.”

It was silent for a very long time. She didn’t know if her words had sunk in, if they had made a real impact, but it was all she could hope for as she continued to hold her hands out and waited for the reaction. Sly stared at her, studying her in that way that pierced to her very soul, and she held her head high to show that there was nothing left to hide. She had said her piece.

Whatever happened next, she would face it without any regrets.

When Sly finally pulled his gaze from her, it was to look instead at Jing. The fox didn’t know what she was thinking, or even the expression on her face – she was still standing behind her – but nearly a full minute passed as they shared a conversation known only to them. Eventually, as if waking up from some far-off dream, he looked down at the Panda King still waiting for his verdict.

The raccoon startled like he’d been hit. He took his cane off of King’s neck and backed away skittishly, eyes darting back and forth between both pandas and the inspector as though they might turn on him anyway despite his moment of mercy. Before anyone could say a single word, he turned tail and ran out the shattered window, where he disappeared from sight in the dark night.

Carmelita nearly collapsed where she was standing. The only reason she didn’t was because she sensed Jing about to do the same, and instead turned to grab her arm to steady her. The girl gave her a grateful look before running straight for her father.

The inspector wanted to do the same, to go after Sly before he was gone again, but she couldn’t. There were still people counting on her to do her job. She wasn’t going to let them down again.

Her radio was clipped to her hip at one of the belt loops; the only piece of police equipment she hadn’t dropped during her intense stand-off with the raccoon. She pulled it up to her mouth and somehow found her voice to be steady.

“Inspector Fox to Team Alpha. I’ve successfully infiltrated the fortress and have taken the Panda King into custody. What is your current position?”

It took a few seconds to gain a reply, but the officer who answered only sounded mildly distracted. “Team Alpha to Inspector Fox. We have just reached the base entrance and have overtaken King’s men here. ETA to sweep the fortress for remaining hostiles: fifteen to thirty minutes. Where should we meet you?”

“I’ll be waiting at the top right observatory.”

“Copy that. Over and out.”

As she attached the radio back onto her jeans, Carmelita looked over at the infamous crime lord and his gentle daughter. The former had yet to stand from his place on the floor; his expression was thoughtful as he absently rubbed at his neck. The latter kneeled beside him, running her hands over his body to catalogue his injuries.

“The rest of my team will be here soon, you know.” It was not stated as a warning, as neither seemed willing to flee, but she still watched them both with more than a little tension.

“I know,” Jing said, looking out at the open window. She sighed, quiet and watery, before giving the inspector a soft, sad smile. “We will wait for them and face whatever comes together. It is the most honorable thing we can do.”

“It is the only thing I can do,” the elder panda added. His voice was full of resignation and regret. “Nothing else will atone for the things I’ve done in this life. Perhaps that isn’t even enough.”

He finally met her eyes. She was startled by how cold they were towards her despite his heavy words. Despite everything she’d learned about him, he was still a ruthless, terrifying man even in defeat.

“Go,” he told her. “We will not flee when your back is turned. Go, and find him. Do what I…what I could not.”

For the first time in her life, Carmelita fully believed the words of a criminal. She gave a single, firm nod, turned on her heel, and rushed for the broken window.

He’s probably long gone, she told herself as she reached the empty frame. He’s probably halfway down the mountain without a trace, just like last –

He was sitting just outside.

Carmelita froze for half a second, almost afraid that the raccoon would disappear like a mirage if she made another move. His ear flicked backwards at the sound of her, but he didn’t turn around. She took it as a tentative sign to approach.

Carefully, the inspector came over and sat down next to him. His cane was draped across his lap, as was a handful of old, tattered papers, and he stared at them without really seeing them.

“...Sly?”

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

It was said so quietly that she almost didn’t catch it. The fox wrapped her arms around her knees as she waited for him to elaborate.

“I thought I knew what I was doing,” he continued after several moments of silence between them. “That first night we met, when I offered to help you find Muggshot…I didn’t give a shit about you or your job. I just saw an opportunity to get what I needed, and a chance to screw over at least one of the monsters who made my life hell in the process.”

Sly started turning the cane over and over in his hands. Carmelita didn’t move a muscle to take it away or even stop him. She wasn’t as surprised as she figured she should be to realize that she didn’t fear him anymore.

Not like this.

“Then, when you started going after the rest of them, I joined you because it was an opportunity to steal my family’s book back. It was what I was supposed to do. It was what was expected of me. I steal the whole book back and then I’d finally be able to escape for real.”

He lifted those worn pages just enough for her to catch a glimpse of old drawings and even older handwriting.

“But getting it back didn’t do that. All it did was tell me that I was an idiot for ever believing otherwise. Going after this thing meant either getting caught by them again, or ending up dead. I don’t know why I ever thought my life would go any differently.”

At the base of the fortress, they could both see other Interpol officers making their way up, visible by their flashlights even in the pitch black of the night. It would probably be ten minutes tops before they reached the observatory.

The raccoon wasn’t making any move to leave. He stared at the incoming team down below with despondent eyes.

Carmelita shivered and rubbed her arms, but not from the cold. “But – but it doesn’t have to be either of those options, Sly. You got out. You’re free of them now.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves, Inspector,” he said quietly. Bitterly. “I’m not free. You’re going to arrest me, or your team will, and I’ll just be in a brand-new kind of cage. Maybe an even worse one, once word gets out that I worked with the cops to save my own skin.”

“We can – figure something out,” she responded, struggling to think of some way, any way, to help him without compromising her job or her morals. “You could get representation, make a case for your – your unusual circumstances. If you testify against the Fiendish Five and explain everything, surely a judge will understand –”

He was shaking his head before she was even finished speaking. “You know that’s not how it works. They’re going to hear my last name and then it’s all over. And even if that’s not enough to doom me, it will only be a matter of time before I’m caught by the one person who will never let me go.”

Before she could ask what he meant, Sly carefully folded the pages of his family treasure and tucked them in his backpack. Then he stood up, gaze on the distant horizon. She did the same if only to stay at his eye level.

“I’m done, Carmelita. I tried to get out, and I couldn’t. I tried to get revenge, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t even put the Thievius Raccoonus back together all the way. I’ve failed, and it’s over. So I’m going to choose that end on my terms, because it’s the only choice I have left.”

He turned to look at her. His expression was tight with pain and exhaustion, but there was the smallest, genuine smile on his face.

“For what it’s worth, though, I did have fun with you. Traveling the world, having someone actually watching my back, taking down scumbags who deserved it. It was nice. And if you meant even half of the things you said back there…”

The raccoon held out his cane to her, wrists up as if waiting for her to cuff him.

“Then let me make it up to you for all the trouble I’ve caused. One last member of the Fiendish Five to put away.”

Carmelita stared at him in shock.

“…Sly, I –”

A shadow fell over them.

Both their heads snapped up. Coming down from the sky like a speeding bullet was a set of giant wings that glinted in the moonlight. Talons sharp as death were aimed right for them – aimed right for him.

Sly was rooted to the spot, staring up at the incoming monster in pure transfixed terror. The horror in his eyes was matched only by hers as she realized that he was too petrified to try to run.

Petrified, and then resigned.

Instincts took over. Carmelita moved.

Her body collided full-force with his, sending him tumbling from the statue’s eyes to its nose and into deep snow right before deadly claws swiped at the place he had just been standing – and closed around her instead. They squeezed tight enough to make her lose her breath and the world lurched around her as suddenly she was in the sky.

The last thing she saw before the lack of air consumed her and her vision went dark was Sly’s stunned face, watching helplessly as she was carried away.

--------------------------------------------------

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A/N:

;)

[totally-correct-shenanigans]

[followup/sister poll to this!]

bonus question do they have any other siblings? i personally like to think it's just pk and Unnamed Aunt and pk is the youngest. does anybody else think about things like this

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

Macaque spent the whole season Big-Damn-Hero-ing and was NOT happy about it xD

[lunesart]

[criaturamonocromatica]

🦁 practice

[keyotos]

➳ you're my achilles heel

summary ⎯ niche microtropes w/ the hsr men! emphasis on the micro (not rlly)

includes ⎯ dan heng, aventurine & jing yuan

tana talks ⎯ who's missed me? i've been gone for a HOT minute, and what other way to come back than kickstarting my 1k event: niche microtropes! more info about that will be here. thank you so so much for 1k!!!!

dan heng

when they both have to share a bed and one of them reveals it was the best night of sleep they've ever had

⎯ dan heng has made a lot of mistakes in his life, and letting march choose hotel rooms has to be one of them.

⎯ granted, he truly thought that march would do a good job at choosing the hotel, financial planning, and of course–choosing the rooms.

⎯ and everything was great. until you and dan heng had to share a bed.

you and dan heng shifted around the bed a few times before finally settling into designated spots. it was decided that dan heng would sleep on the outside, while you slept near the wall. his back faced you as he tucked himself into bed.

⎯ you and dan heng were friends. this awkwardness wasn't normal, and there should be no reason for the two of you to be avoiding each other like you are now. alas, here you are now, laying at least a foot apart.

⎯ the room is completely silent, and a bit cold as well. dan heng felt a breeze constantly grazing his shoulders. yeah. there was no way he could sleep like this

⎯ you, on the other hand, felt too hot. you had most of the blankets on your side and you felt SUFFOCATED. sometimes, it felt hard to breathe. but u weren't sure if that was just nerves or bc of how hot you felt.

⎯ ultimately, you are the one who has to make the first move.

"dan heng," you turned around and whispered, "are you cold?"

⎯ obviously, he was cold. but was he going to say anything about it?? no.

"i'm fine," he said, still facing his back towards you. "are you cold?" you gulped at the dry response. usually, you find yourself always wanting to talk to dan heng. he was never a boring converser, so why was he acting so strange tonight? but then again, you had no room to talk—you haven't said a word to dan heng until now.

⎯ at this point, you're a little frustrated at the lack of communication between the both of you. so—being the problem solver that you are—you decide to do something about it

slowly, you inch closer to dan heng—just to test the waters, of course. dan heng doesn't reach much, only a small head turn once he feels a dip in the mattress. you take some of the blanket and throw it over dan heng, awaiting his response.

⎯ meanwhile, dan heng over here is internally flipping out. when you inched towards him, dan heng could feel his heart skipping more than a few beats. and when you threw the blanket over him, dan heng wasn't sure if he felt warm due to the blanket or you.

⎯ when he finally turns over, you have to hide your wide eyes and slacked mouth underneath the blanket. you peer back up, and he's staring right at you.

"are... you okay?" you whisper underneath the blanket. "i'm cold," is all dan heng says. you hide your smile underneath the blanket, but you have a feeling dan heng knows you're smiling anyway. he's looking straight in your eyes after all.

⎯ and then you say it. you practically hit the pentagon.

you open up the blanket to where it reveals a dark silhouette of your body. "do you want to share?"

⎯ dan heng practically malfunctions. usually, there are always things dan heng says to fill the silence. he never runs out of words. not in a talkative way like march, but rather, he has an extensive vocabulary

⎯ this time though? haha. very funny. he's gone mute.

dan heng blinks at you while you hold the blanket open. you raise an eyebrow, taunting him. he squeezes his eyes shut, and then reopens them to find you still holding the blanket. was he halluncinating?

"i don't want to intrude." "oh please," you quietly laugh, "we're already sharing a bed. we crossed the line of intrusion a few hours ago."

⎯ and that sounds like a good deal to the both of you. except, one thing.

"are things going to change after this?" dan heng asks you. you're glad it's dark, so dan heng doesn't see you flush, "i don't see why things would change," you say, maintaining a calm face.

⎯ that's enough to get dan heng under the covers with you.

⎯ you two sleep wonderfully the rest of the night—you two even woke up early too. you were the one to wake up first. the sun shone on your face, yet you didn't even feel the glare at all. you felt energized, which was weird considering that you went to bed at questionable hour last night.

⎯ oh, and you also felt a pair of arms over your waist too. and something pressing into your neck. and something wrapping around your legs. and you also feel really hot. is that from the sun????

⎯ yeah. it's going to be harder to keep your word.

aventurine

those dancing scenes where it just so happens that the lighting focuses on the two of you

⎯ lavish parties and extravagant events weren’t new to aventurine, who just so happened to stumble on one of the biggest on penacony

⎯ sometimes, the families hold galas. it’s more of an exclusive thing, so aventurine had to do some awkward mingling in order to get in. that includes a very awkward conversation with a security guard, who kept raising eyebrows at his outfit.

⎯ beforehand, he had no interest in going to this event. however, once faced with the possibility that he could gather intel, his mind quickly changed.

⎯ now, he is standing right next to you, the heir to penacony's iris family. in his short time on the planet, he's seen your face countless times: on billboards, commercials, and next to various items. but seeing it in person?

⎯ way. different.

"you've never been dancing before?" you lead the ipc executive, aventurine, down the halls of the iris family's ballroom. aventurine shakes his head as he follows you, "not once. though, as the iris family's biggest celebrity, i take it you're used to dances?" your eyes widen when you hear him utter the compliment, "i'm... i'm not sure i'm the biggest celebrity," you rub your neck sheepishly. you tilt your head back, "and i don't think i can remember a time where i didn't dance."

⎯ aventurine has one goal tonight, and it's to get information about the families. if all goes according to plan, then he'd have the upper hand on penacony itself, thus being able to use his knowledge as a bargaining chip for the ipc.

⎯ and if there's one thing aventurine is good at, it's bargains.

⎯ so now, aventurine is trying his hardest to charm you into giving out any information. because people like you always talk.

"that must've been nice," aventurine eggs you on, "from what i can tell, parties on penacony are always fun." you let out a small laugh, "i'm glad you think that." the two of you walk side-by-side, and you aren't saying a single thing. aventurine flexes his hand by his side, preparing to make more idle chatter. he's about to open his mouth when a bright, shining light beams onto the both of you.

⎯ from the look on your face, aventurine can tell that you did not like that. he stands there passively, awaiting for your next move.

⎯ what he did not expect was for you to hold out your hand for him.

"um," you clear your throat. your eyes dart around the room and you gulp, holding out your hand, "may i have this dance?"

⎯ aventurine meets your nervous eyes with his wide ones. it looks like the two of you have no other choice. eyes are on the both of you when aventurine takes your hand, and you pull him into a quiet space in the ballroom.

⎯ let's get one thing straight: aventurine does not know how to dance.

⎯ so currently, he's trying to avoid stepping on your toes, while trying to remain in sync with you. on the inside, aventurine is annoyed. there are ears everywhere, meaning that there's a bigger risk. however, aventurine is all about risks, and the night is still young.

"i thought you liked dances," aventurine purposefully whispers into your ear, and he can feel the heat rise up. his voice is sultry and sweet, and he hopes to get you addicted to it soon. you look up at him with crinkled eyes. the light is glaring on you, and it seems like you're glinting instead of shining. "i never said that." aventurine takes notice of the rise and fall of your chest—much faster than when the two of you met. the corner of his lip raises a little bit, "oh, i'm sorry. but are you uncomfortable? i thought you've been doing this for years? let me know if i can do anything to help?" he offers.

⎯ you only smile, and aventurine gives you a polite smile back. he follows your lead, waiting for you to say something, but you only lead him around the ballroom.

⎯ the light is still trailing after you, except it's beaming more on aventurine than you at this point.

⎯ it's beaming more on aventurine. oh. he gets it now.

"do you wanna get out of here?" he whispers in your ear once again. he has to try his hardest to bite down the smirk that was about to appear on his face. this was going to be easier than he thought. you grab his hand in a tight hold, "no," you firmly state, "we're staying here."

⎯ wow. what a shift of tone.

"i need your help," you mutter under your breath. "help me, and i'll do anything," you look up into his eyes, pleading with him through your gaze.

⎯ aventurine nearly steps on your feet. what?

"uh–what?" aventurine questions you as you keep moving.

"sneak me out of here. we can't go through the doors—there's the bloodhound family everywhere. but i need you to get me out," you beseech. you grab his hand, bringing it up to your chest and slowly sliding it down to your waist.

⎯ aventurine has to remind himself to keep his cool multiple times. breathe in, breathe out. what were you getting at here? why did you want to escape?

"listen, what i said earlier. about the parties. i need to get out," you spin yourself around and back into the blond. "help me," you connect your palms as you circle him, "and i'll help you," you intertwine your fingers together.

⎯ the light still glistens over the both of you. and aventurine thinks two things: he's gotten into something he didn't need to get into, and that he finally has a way into the family.

jing yuan

second chance romance, except the two of you have been keeping tabs on one another the entire time.

⎯ jing yuan's childhood is filled of fond memories: his old master, the bright and sunny days when he would train, and you.

⎯ you, who jing yuan would willingly miss trainings for. you, the brilliant and clever reporter who broadcasted for the people. you, who jing yuan had to let go.

⎯ he'd spend days rereading what you've wrote; whether it be small stories or big news on the luofu. everything you had written intoxicated him. however, all good things have to end eventually.

⎯ the break-up wasn't even technically a break up, because you two weren't even together. the harsh reality was that you two were just friends, so jing yuan has no actual reason to be moping around. people lose friends all the time, and with jing yuan's lifestyle, it was bound to be imminent.

⎯ as the general, jing yuan had new priorities, and it seems like you weren't one of them anymore.

⎯ so, you move on with your career. you founded the xianzhou's very own broadcasting channel, which aired to the millions of citizens across all ships. you're a superstar who hasn't left their core values. rather than the big stories, you focus on local ones. you focus on the people.

⎯ and general jing yuan... focuses on his job. sort of. not really.

⎯ can you really say that a general is focused on his job when he goes missing?

"jing yuan," your side aches once you utter his name, and you suppress an agonized moan, "why are you here?"

⎯ you know what they say, old habits die hard.

⎯ the founder of the xianzhou's broadcasting channel was found in critical condition a few days ago. you had been reporting on the a civil case that had struck on one of the ships, and—next thing you know—blood ran from your fingertips and you rushed into a critical care unit.

"how did you even get here?" you ask as you lift yourself up higher on the bed. jing yuan steps forward, but you move back. "i haven't spoken to you in years. you cut me off, and then you show up now? can i atleast get an explanation on how you found me?"

⎯ jing yuan's silence tells you all that you need to know. you keep up with the dozing general, even if you are off the luofu. because still, even after all these years, your heart trails after him.

"i wanted to see you," jing yuan blurts. his voice is much more deeper than you remember it to be. "so i contacted the hospital and told them that my old friend was in critical condition, and i needed to see you." you scoff, "an old friend is a stretch." you pause and look down at your hands. and then, a thought furrows in your mind. "wait, if you knew where i was hospitalized—you read my articles?" "i've never stopped."

⎯ oh. oh? oh????

⎯ safe to say that you were rendered speechless. the next five minutes were spent by you staring at jing yuan, jaw-dropped and all.

"how long?" you asked. "too long," jing yuan dryly chuckles. "since i left."

⎯ the air is thick, and things are obviously tense. and there are so many things to talk about. so many things to tell him. such as how you've surfed before (it was a big dream of yours). or how you finally adopted the cat you always wanted (you hope he brings up his lion).

⎯ and while you sit there, you realize that you've missed this. how could you even live without this for hundreds of years? without him? was it surreal to feel so strongly about a person that left so long ago?

⎯ so many milestones missed. so many to make up for. so many things to talk about. so many things to clear up. and you still want to do it all with jing yuan.

⎯ does he still want to do it with you?

you clear your throat, attempting to sit up straighter. you're struggling, and you've never felt so embarrassed in your life. while trying to adjust yourself once more, you see a shadow appear above you, and it's the one and only jing yuan. "do you need help?" he asks, holding his arm out for you as support. you take it gladly, pulling yourself up by grabbing onto his (big) forearm. "thank you," you dust yourself off, checking your side for any rips in your stitches. "now," you begin, letting out a shaky breath, "i think... i think we're overdue for a chat."

⎯ you knew jing yuan. you'd like to know him now. jing yuan knew you too, and now—judging by the look on his face—he'd like to know you too.

god i've missed the hc's so much. like i'm truly going back to my roots here. be honest did y'all miss the hc's too or was that just me????

[pillowdrawz]

Part 2 of my what if Nezha betraying his father.

Part 1. <

Imma just gonna call this Emperor Nezha au heehhehehehehehe

[no-cyanide]

Generals outfit swap

Feixiao needed the pants, what can I say

[starii-lins]

some silly meme redraws bcs if i dont draw anything ill explode

ogs under the cut

[sunderwight]

SVSSS AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates as usual, except it's to find that his system is freaking out because it's been several years since Luo Binghe was supposed to show up at the sect trials to start his plot but so far there's been no sign of the protagonist, the Protagonist Halo Features aren't working correctly, and there's another transmigrator who arrived earlier, somehow hacked into the system, and erased its ability to track or punish him before disappearing into parts unknown (it was Airplane).

So Shen Yuan, now Shen Qingqiu, reasons that anyone who was trying to interfere with the plotline had either rescued or killed Luo Binghe while he was still young. Hoping for the former (but braced for the latter) he uses what scant knowledge the novel provided about Luo Binghe's origins, plus his new skills and some of the sect resources available, to track down Luo Binghe.

Turns out, in this version of events, some "random benefactor" showed up and gave Luo Binghe's mother some life-saving medicine. So she didn't die. But her health remained poor and Binghe never left her side, instead doing as much of her work as he was able to. So teenaged Binghe is basically a seemingly average, run-of-the-mill servant.

Shen Qingqiu is like "well this is pretty easy to fix actually" and approaches Luo Binghe as a wise immortal master type, says he sees Binghe's potential, and offers to take him on as a disciple. Luo Binghe is thrilled and kind of gobsmacked, but won't abandon his mother. Not a problem! Shen Qingqiu figured he wouldn't, so he offers to make arrangements to have Mama Luo comfortably set up in one of the villages at the base of the mountain. Sure, having her be alive and letting Binghe visit and write to her would be a deviation from the usual tragic backstory, but not a huge one! Shen Qingqiu is ready to mark this problem solved (and start dealing with all the other problems it creates for him) but the system is weirdly unsatisfied.

Turns out that even though Shen Qingqiu has found Luo Binghe (and a few discreet tests confirm that he has some sort of seal in place, and what are the odds of some other random orphan found on the Luo river, raised by a kindly-but-ill laundress, and named "Luo Binghe" exists in the same region?), the system still can't detect the Protagonist Halo Feature. The stupid glitching thing can't recognize the protagonist without it, so it keeps insisting that Shen Qingqiu locate him, even when he's kneeling right there and performing the tea ceremony for his initiation!

It's really annoying!

Especially since this means that the system won't actually safeguard Luo Binghe from harm. Which means it's up to Shen Qingqiu to make sure that his little white lotus disciple lives long enough to become the ruler of everything. This is easier said than done! Between the skinner demon side quest, and the demonic invasion, and various other side missions to build up the protagonist's potential, Luo Binghe is constantly getting into trouble and Shen Qingqiu keeps getting poisoned or injured trying to drag him back out of it in one piece!

Matters come to a head at the Immortal Alliance Conference (as they so often do). Shen Qingqiu is not planning to yeet Binghe, of course. Like this there's no guarantee of survival, and the system isn't even demanding it of him (because it still doesn't recognize the protagonist), but it seems to be demanding they turn up for the event anyway. Shen Qingqiu is a nervous wreck and fighting the urge to hover, because as expected, there is still a demonic invasion. Except this time Mobei Jun is there, and so is a mysterious cloaked figure who seems to be searching for something.

As soon as Shen Qingqiu claps eyes on the figure, the system chimes happily.

Protagonist Halo successfully located!

Turns out, part of Airplane's hacks involved stealing the halo and reassigning it to himself. Except that means that narrative destiny still wants him to hit certain plot beats, so he's been busily conquering the demonic realms -- in MBJ's name of course -- and mostly doing the bare minimum to satisfy the requirements while evading the system's efforts to regain contact. But now he's gotta go get Xin Mo somehow, except the minute Shen Qingqiu spots him so does the system.

The system, which immediately reassigns Airplane as the protagonist, and orders Shen Qingqiu to throw him into the Endless Abyss.

Which is like, better this rando than Binghe, so okay, but Mobei Jun is not cooperating plus the mysterious hooded stranger also seems pretty resistant to the idea (Airplane is NOT a heavenly demon, Protagonist Halo or no he's still actually a relatively squishy human cultivator, and he does not want to go into the hell pit), and between one thing and another Airplane manages to fall int the Abyss with Luo Binghe.

Not ideal. Which is to say, Shen Qingqiu is emotionally devastated and almost convinced that Luo Binghe has died for real and that Mysterious Halo Thief is going to come out somehow in a few years and chop off all his limbs, and Mobei Jun is extremely distressed because the man he intends to marry just fell into the Endless Abyss, and that seems like a difficult thing to somehow Evil Vizier your way out of.

The other peak lords arrive to keep Mobei Jun from killing Shen Qingqiu, and so everyone just kind of despairingly returns to their separate corners of the universe to wait and see what will happen.

Meanwhile, down in the Endless Abyss, Luo Binghe has unlocked his heavenly demon blood and is now constantly trying to kill Airplane. But thanks to the transferred protagonist halo it just doesn't work. The system interferes and creates a last-minute unlikely survival route for Airplane every time. They eventually reach an impasse where Airplane can't die but only Luo Binghe is strong enough to actually fight most of the creatures in the Abyss, and all this "fighting" between the two of them (generous description) keeps attracting big monsters.

So, Airplane offers a deal. He knows things about this place. Including how to get out. If Luo Binghe helps him fend off the monsters, then he'll help Luo Binghe survive and escape as well. He even offers to help him get away from Shen Qingqiu and make a place for himself in the demon realms! Luo Binghe tries to kill him again for that, so he drops that line of attempted bribery really quick and switches tactics. He knows more things! Things about Shen Qingqiu's past! Secrets he'll share if Luo Binghe helps him!

Is this the start of a beautiful new friendship?

No.

Turns out Luo Binghe and Airplane have exactly the correct combination of shared traits and differences to find one another mostly intolerable. But not intolerable to the point of not being able to manage teeth-clenched teamwork. By the time they get out of the Endless Abyss, Luo Binghe never wants to hear about cup noodles or tax collection or Mobei Jun's tits ever again, and Airplane feels much the same about anything at all to do with Shen Qingqiu (and either Shen Qingqiu is a fellow transmigrator now or else Luo Binghe has inserted a shockingly vivid delusion over the scum villain he wrote). But they're both alive and in joint custody of an evil sword.

Unfortunately, due to the bickering and the complexities of Shang Qinghua's sketchy memory for his own plots, it takes them even longer to get out of the Abyss than it took PIDW Luo Binghe to manage on his own.

And, uh. Well.

They don't find things in great shape, considering how they left them...

[cherllyio]

They are all wearing the same grey tracksuits because, in The Celistial Realms eyes, they are all nothing but harbingers of chaos.

You could say they are viewed through a very much black and white mindset of what is "good" and "bad".

A quick theory I had, before im diving back into my bigger thoeries again :)

[whisker-biscuit]

Help Me Act Intact: Chapter 2

1 Week

Sly hated everything about this place.

He hated living with the monster who had attacked his family and home. He hated that he had to work for him like a servant. He hated that he couldn’t understand anything the people here were saying, and the only time he heard English was when the monster or the monster’s sister wanted to scold him for something.

And above all, he hated how helpless he felt. How small and weak and pathetic he was, that he couldn’t fight back or even escape. He had tried everything he could think of over the last week – picking the lock to his room or breaking through a wall at night, slipping away from the staff during the day, but nothing he did ever seemed to work.

Sly was trapped, and useless, and he hated it.

The one thing he didn’t hate – or, well, he wasn’t sure what to feel, exactly – was the little girl who lived here. She was always staring at him, and trying to talk to him, and he didn’t know what to think about that. She was the monster’s daughter, which meant he should hate her, too, but she was also really young, and it felt weird to hate someone younger than him.

When she’d cornered him alone a few days ago and started talking to him in English, he’d been surprised, but he didn’t want to be near the monster’s daughter and hoped she’d get the message to leave him alone. Surely, she knew that he hated her family and this place. But she kept going, and going, and then she was asking why he didn’t just leave, like it was the easiest thing in the world and he just – he got so angry.

He hadn’t meant to push her. He really hadn’t. And when he realized what he’d done, his anger had turned to terror. The monster had told him that he would kill him if he hurt her. She would tell the monster and then he’d kill him.

But she hadn’t. He had watched her lie to the monster, and then look at him in a way that he understood meant she had forgiven him for pushing her. It didn’t make any sense to him at first. Why wouldn’t she snitch?

It made sense the next very day after that, when she found him in the kitchen and tried to talk to him again. He had ignored her again and worked very hard not to let his anger make him do something stupid, like his dad always taught. She hadn’t stayed very long that time because there were other people in the kitchen, and she seemed to know that they weren’t supposed to hang out.

But then she came back the next day. And the next day. And the day after that. Always when he was left alone, and always asking him questions.

“What’s your name? How old are you? Can you play with me? Can we be friends?”

It annoyed him, and he always ignored her because he didn’t want to accidentally hurt her again and he also wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t a trick. Maybe the monster had asked his daughter to test him into letting his guard down, and then do something horrible to him once he had. It didn’t quite make sense since she hadn’t told the monster about when he’d pushed her, but he didn’t care. He had to stay alive in this scary, awful place, and he couldn’t get caught doing anything he wasn’t supposed to until he figured out how to escape for good.

Tonight, though, was different. Tonight, she had found out where his room was.

The staff had locked him inside again, at the exact same time as every night, and just like every night he looked over the whole room for a way to escape without finding anything. Then, like every night since the day he’d been brought here, he had taken the pillow and blanket off the bed and crawled under the bed with them, curling up into a ball and watching the door, terrified that the monster or the other monsters who had been with him would come inside while he was supposed to be asleep, and do to him what they had done to his parents.

Usually, he would stay awake as long as he could until he couldn’t anymore, and then he’d wake up crying from nightmares, and then he’d watch the door again until the cycle repeated itself, but tonight was different, because she had found his room.

She knocked on the door.

The sound scared him so bad that he forgot how to breathe, pulling himself further under his little hiding place and waiting for his family’s killers to finally kill him too. But then there was a quiet, young voice joined in by the knocking.

“Hello? Mr. Huàn Xióng? Is this your room?”

Sly was so stunned that he didn’t do anything at first. He stayed perfectly still, blinking as he tried to process what was actually going on against the terror gripping his body and mind. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to uncurl from under the blanket and slide out from under the bed.

“Mr. Huàn Xióng?” The girl called again by the time he was standing in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do. “I am sorry if I woke you up. I wanted to come inside but the door is locked.”

Still clutching the pillow to his chest, Sly carefully crept over to the door and pressed his ear against the wood. He could hear her shuffling on the other side, but couldn’t make out any other sounds no matter how hard he tried. If someone else was with her, they were doing a very good job of being quiet.

Was this the test he’d been so afraid of? Were they waiting to see if he’d use this girl to break out of his room and try to escape? That he would tell her to go find the key to open the lock and let him out?

The boy swallowed and remained pressed against the door. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. His voice had gone away the night that his life had been ruined, and the only time he’d managed to bring it back had been to whisper at this girl to go away. That had been so hard to do that it had left him dizzy and out of breath. Speaking across a wall like this sounded as impossible as walking through it.

She had stopped knocking and calling for him, but he could still hear her there. She sounded nervous, and he didn’t understand why she didn’t just leave if she was so worried that this was the wrong room, or that she would get in trouble for being here. Of course, he also didn’t understand why she seemed so determined to talk to him when he was trying to make it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her.

Against his better judgement, Sly raised his hand, hesitated, then knocked gently against the wood. Just three simple knocks to let her know he was here. She gasped, sounding surprised, and knocked back.

“Is that you, Mr. Huàn Xióng?” She asked.

He knocked once, hoping she’d understand it as a yes. The girl went quiet for a minute.

“Does that mean yes?”

Another single knock.

“Okay!” Now she sounded excited. “Will you come out and play with me?”

Sly’s mouth twisted in irritation. Two knocks.

“…Does that mean no?”

One knock.

The girl went quiet again, but he could still hear her on the other side. She was very loud compared to him even though she was smaller. He figured that made sense – no one was as good a teacher about being stealthy as his dad was.

Had been.

Her next question was almost missed as he struggled to blink back sudden tears. “Are you stuck in there?”

A single knock.

“Oh.” More silence. “I am sorry, but I don’t have a key. I don’t know where to find one.”

The raccoon closed his eyes. He didn’t know why he was disappointed about that, but he was.

“Do you like your room?”

Two knocks.

“Oh. I am sorry.”

She really sounded sorry, too, which caught him off guard. Why should she care about how he felt? No one else here did. Why was she being nice right now when she was the daughter of a monster? He didn’t understand it and he didn’t like how conflicted it was making him feel. He wished she’d be mean so he could just hate her like he hated everything else.

“I don’t think I am allowed to let you leave,” the girl said, still sounding upset. “If my father or my aunt knew I was here, I would be in a lot of trouble.”

Sly rolled his eyes. She had people making food and cleaning up after her every single day, and the monster clearly loved her even though that didn’t make sense for a monster. What would “a lot of trouble” even look like to a spoiled princess like her? Washing her own clothes for once?

“I should probably go back to my room soon, so they don’t find me here.”

There was a long pause, like she was waiting for him to ask her not to leave. The boy wouldn’t have asked that even if his voice had come back to him.

“…Okay. I’m leaving now.” He heard her start walking away, stop, then hurry back to the door. “Um. Um. Are you going to be here tomorrow night?”

That was the dumbest question she’d ever asked, and she asked a lot of dumb questions. Sly rolled his eyes again as he gave a single, very angry knock against the wood.

“Okay. Can…can I come back tomorrow night? Can we talk more?”

He blinked. Hesitated. Thought about it.

Knocked once.

“Okay!” The girl said, very loud and very happy, which made him wince. “Goodbye, Mr. Huàn Xióng! I will see you tomorrow!”

She ran down the hall, making him wince again, and he stayed listening at the door until he couldn’t hear her anymore. He wondered why she wanted to come back when it was obvious he didn’t like her.

He wondered why he had just told her she could.

--------------------------------------------

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A/N: This took longer to get out than expected cause I got double-whammied with work and being sick. Oh well, at least we're getting somewhere.

[totally-correct-shenanigans]

flops over consistency is the bane of my existency

ok so context! jing king has an aunt right.

there will probably be a followup poll later !

[thezoe611]

After chapter 6 of "Eclipse Apprentice" by @journeytomonkiekid , I wanted to finish these drawings and share them to celebrate the chapter, BUT I had weeks of exams and I was finally free yesterday, so I took the opportunity immediately to finish the drawings. This time there were two, because despite the fact that there was a lot of drama and tension in the episode, there were scenes that made me laugh ^^'. I couldn't decide which scenes to draw, so I decided to draw the duality of chapter 6^^'

[swkbiggestdefender]

a little spoilers for lmk season 5

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I don't like how lmk brushed aside how much of a shitty parents these people are like they were literally emotionally abusive and destroyed they're children self confidence and they didn't apologise but still get a pass what???

[that-guy-sleepy-miles]

Hello folks, it's Miles here! You may know me as the guy who deduced what Rayman is snorting in episode 5 of Captain Laserhawk! And today, I'll be going over how...

There Are 6 Types of Magic in LEGO Monkie Kid

You can honestly stop here if you don't want to get into the most convoluted stuff ever. If you're vaguely interested but don't have much time, click read more and scroll down to Red Son, because he's where shit gets interesting.

A disclaimer! I've literally never broken down or written a magic system before, I'm just like. writing down and making sense of what I've noticed while watching the show. If you disagree with my assessment of a character's magic, think there's a better term for something I've described, or think I'm just plain wrong, please let me know so I can update the post! I don't know what I'm doing, and I've never looked into magic systems before!

An important thing to note is that LEGO Monkie Kid adheres somewhat to the power systems in Chinese mythology, so I will be bringing up concepts from Chinese mythology that are not talked about in the show. Honestly, if you went 100% on the show and not on Chinese mythology at all, there wouldn't be a magic system in the first place.

Now, let's begin!

‎

First, vocabulary.

Magic Class: The root of a user's magic. Classes are not exclusive, but actually compounding. For example, Wukong has Intrinsic-based Actively Cultivated Magic. Magic Subtype: A modifier to a class; additional information to explain how a user's magic came to be or how it works. For example, Tang has Revitalized Bestow-Inherited Actively Cultivated³ Magic — the subtype goes before the class because it's a modifier. (Yes, I will explain why his Actively Cultivated Magic is cubed.)

(In the naming scheme of magic, everyone has a full classification and then a shorthand classification. The classifications above were all shorthand.)

Magical Energy: The basic form of magic; unfiltered energy that can be channeled, manipulated, and cultivated. This energy can be used to attack directly or utilized in a spell. MAGICAL ENERGY IS QI, "MAGIC" IS JUST BEING USED BECAUSE THIS IS WRITTEN FOR A WESTERN AUDIENCE. Power: A defined ability, such as a spell or a technique. Not all Powers are explicitly named, but powers have defined forms and details whereas Magical Energy is usually a geometric shape. Examples of Powers: 72 Transformations, Golden Sight, teleportation. Magical Expression: How Magical Energy and Powers form upon release. Examples of Magical Expression are glowing eyes, full body glowing, magical seals, anime-esque energy blasts, Red Son's* fire, Ne Zha's fire (two VERY different forms of Magical Expression), and Macaque's purple shadow outline. Ne Zha's Wind Fire Wheels are examples of Magical Expression with a conduit. Zero Magical Expression ≠ zero release, but can. Conduits: Anything that can hold, channel, or manipulate Magical Energy. All living beings and magical artifacts are examples of conduits.

Channeling: Collecting magical energy internally Releasing: The basis of Magical Expression; using collected magical energy for an attack

(Mei showcasing channeling and releasing in Rip and Tear) You can always tell when a character is channeling and releasing.

Knowing which class of magic a character is using can be hard — they all tend to utilize anime-esque energy blast graphics and glowing bodies for Magical Expression — so you have to pay close attention. I'll be going over how to identify the specific magic types as we go through them.

Each type of magic has a "poster child" — a character that fully embodies that type — and I'll be using them to explain how the magic works. Once we finish the easily categorized magics, we'll get into the Special Cases.

(MK showcasing Intrinsic Magic in Rip and Tear)

(Wukong showcasing Cultivated Magic in A Lifetime of Mistakes)

Now, onto the classes of magic!

Intrinsic Magic is a class of magic...

That's not inherently pedigree-related. Ne Zha's father Li Jing was a mortal man.

Most gods and local deities have, and some yaoguai have. (Older demons like DBK and Wukong have Intrinsic Magic, while younger demons like Pigsy and Sandy might technically have Inherited Magic. It all depends on how you want to look at it.)

That usually comes with unique powers, commonly the ability to walk and talk upon birth. (Wukong got laser eyes, and Red Son* got the Samadhi Fire).

And holders have unnatural births? Pangu's cosmic egg, Ne Zha being born a ball of flesh after being gestated for three years, Wukong's rock that's existed since the dawn of time, etc.

Ne Zha is the epitome of Intrinsic Magic! If you think Intrinsic Magic, you think Ne Zha. The unmistakable way to identify Intrinsic Magic is to look for themes. If a character has a theme to their magic, again and again, they likely have Intrinsic Magic! For example:

Ne Zha's Intrinsic Theme is (obviously) lotus flowers/petals.

Red Son's* Intrinsic Theme is flames.

Macaque would be a contender for intrinsic magic (we will be getting back to him, though).

Cultivated Magic is a class of magic that has two subclasses: ACTIVE and PASSIVE, and...

That's ENTIRELY self-created. A magical pedigree can help, but no pedigree is required in Cultivated Magic — Li Jing cultivated magic as a completely human man, for example.

That NEEDS a Conduit. The conduit for Cultivated Magic can be the magic user themselves, but often it's a magical artifact or a technique. Note: a conduit doesn't require Cultivated Magic to be used, but Cultivated Magic requires a conduit. (Known Conduits include: Wukong's Cloud Somersault, Nezha's Wind Fire Wheels, and Princess Iron Fan's Banana Leaf Fan.)

That's very backstory-heavy. There's always a way that a character learned or got their power, or a description of how old they are.

A magic that you see most with yaoguai and immortals. The older the yaoguai, the more cultivated they are.

Passive Cultivation: Every living being is a conduit for passive cultivation — by existing, you are passively cultivating. The best method of passive cultivation is age; the older something is, the more passively cultivated. A Huli jing is the best example of passively cultivated magic. According to literature, the older a fox is, the more power it accrues.

Active Cultivation: Active Cultivation is when a being seeks out magical power. The most common form of active cultivation is being taught Tao techniques (Wukong's Cloud Somersault, Li Jing's Burning Pagoda Art). In this situation, the technique is the conduit. Other forms of actively cultivating magic are yaoguai eating humans and magic-accruing technology (specifically DBK's Furnace armor, which converts rarity into magical energy.)

Cultivated Magic comes with the implication of being wise, at least in some form, and those with cultivated magic are able to teach others. Being a disciple immediately means you have Actively Cultivated Magic.

Cultivated Magic often doesn't have Magical Expression, because it's all about existing and learning. When it does have Magical Expression, it's usually depictions of strength and power or the conduit itself glowing.

(Wukong's hairs glow as they are used as conduits for his cloning technique in Macaque)

(Wukong and Macaque's strength is showcased through Magical Expression during a fight in Macaque)

Cultivated Magic can be seen through any technique that was stated to have learned, such as Wukong's astral projection and his speed/quick reflexes.

(Wukong focusing in order to astral project to MK in Dumpling Destruction)

(MK having to actively learn and practice astral projecting in Minor Scale)

MK: Monkey King! It worked! Monkey King: Hey, bud. So, you figured out astral projection, huh? MK: Yeah, and I only had five nose bleeds.

Cultivated Magic is best showcased in action, and characters cultivate over the course of the show.

(Wukong showcasing his Cultivated Magic by pulling some fast ones on MK in Impossible Delivery)

(4 seasons later in Strings That Bind, Wukong and MK spar, showcasing MK's Cultivated Magic. Tumblr will NOT let me embed both videos, and the first one is more important, so this will just be a link.)

Inherited Magic is a class of magic that has two subclasses: ANCESTERAL and BESTOWED, and...

Comes from someone else and was given to or passed down to the magic user.

Is sourced from Intrinsic or Cultivated Magic, but the magic user is not intrinsically magical/did not cultivate that magic themselves. The Intrinsic/Cultivated Magic is specific to another (perhaps deceased) being.

Can have ZERO Magical Expression or release.

If a character has Ancestor-Inherited Magic, they'll have a family animal, a family artifact, and/or a known ancestor.

If a character has Bestow-Inherited Magic, they were given their power by another magic user (known as the Bestower) so that they would serve that magic user, defeat a foe, or as a reward. Bestow-Inherit Magic users are often previously mortal.

Bestow-Inherited Magic is most blatantly a character giving another character magical powers, but being granted godhood, being brought back to life under a deal, and everyone receiving heavenly ranks/Wukong and Tripitaka receiving Buddhahood and Buddha titles at the end of Journey To The West is also Bestow-Inherited Magic.

A quick note: Older yaoguai (DBK, Azure Lion, Wukong) are considered to have Intrinsic Magic, but Modern yaoguai (Pigsy, Sandy) are deemed to have Inherited Magic. This is because these younger demons are not yaoguai specifically unto themselves — their status as a yaoguai comes from their ancestors. They have no unique, intrinsic powers, nor were they specifically predestined to be yaoguai despite their heritage (such as in the case of Nezha, who was predestined to be a celestial being).

For example, Pigsy. His status as a Magic User exists because of his family history. While, yes, his family is important to his character and story, it's not something he did himself — he did not cultivate his grandma — and there is nothing unique about him biology-wise besides just being a pig demon. He is a reincarnation, but being a reincarnation didn't make him a yaoguai. (That was a whole fate, symbolism deal, though.) If Pigsy hadn't been born, his family would still have a pig demon kid.

Now, onto the subtypes. (As a reminder, a subtype modifies a class!)

Revitalized Magic is a subtype of magic. It means that the magic is from a pre-incarnation that a character unlocks and requires reincarnation.

Uuuuunless it doesn't, and it required Un-Death. Auto-Revitalization of Magic is definitely a thing, but it's not a real category. It's just a specification to explain things that have happened to a character.

For example: The reason Macaque's shadows turned into chaos magic at the end of season 5 is because he's dead. He's outside of the reincarnation cycle, he's Undead, his magic is Auto-Revitalized —so when the reincarnation cycle is broken, his magic is also changed. At least, that's my personal theory. I might be DEAD WRONG.

Okay, back to Revitalized Magic proper: Remember back when I said Tang's magic was cubed? Yeah, this is why. (Before we start, Táng Sānzàng will be referred to as Tripitaka from here on out.)

The full classification of Tang's magic is: Potential Revitalized Bestow-Inherited (Tripitaka), Revitalized Actively Cultivated (Golden Cicada), Revitalized Actively Cultivated (Tripitaka), Actively Cultivated Magic. (Maybe, we'll get into this.)

The entire reason demons tried to eat Tripitaka was because he was the reincarnation of the Golden Cicada, who was a disciple of Buddha, which made Tripitaka's flesh holy. Being a disciple immediately means Actively Cultivated Magic; Tripitaka had Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic. Tripitaka was a Buddhist disciple as well, which means he also Actively Cultivated. If Tang is a reincarnation of Tripitaka, who is a reincarnation of the Golden Cicada, then Tang has Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic twice (or, even, 10 times, if you look at the Sandalwood Buddha thing, but Tripitaka and Golden Cicada are the important disciples so we're only counting them).

If Tang has Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic and Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic, that means he has Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic². However,

Tang is a SCHOLAR. BEING A SCHOLAR MEANS THAT TANG IS ALSO AN ACTIVE CULTIVATOR.

HENCE, TANG HAS ACTIVELY CULTIVATED MAGIC³.

Celestial Magic is a subclass of magic that includes any magic with a seal. It's not exclusive to Celestial beings, but it's most often used by beings with Heavenly connections.

Celestial Magic is also known as "Spells", I'm pretty sure. Wukong just dropped this terminology on us in Season 5, and spells usually require words, but like. Okay, buddy. Whatever. You're the magic guy.

Celestial Seals have a unique symbol for every "Artist", or a Hànzì that explains the spell's purpose. For example, Li Jing's seals have a little pagoda on them, and the containment spell's seal (the only thing that can truly be called a spell here) has the character "牢", which means "prison" (or "enclosure", which is hilarious because it's containing 3 monkeys).

Consequential Magic is any magical energy or power gained as a result of an action taken by someone who is NOT the magic user.

Consequential is not a subclass of Cultivated because the magic user had no say in acquiring/did not know they were acquiring Consequential Magic; Consequential is not a subclass of Inherited because the magic user was not intentionally given these powers and they did not come from ancestry.

(Red Son* is literally the reason this subtype exists.) Every example of Consequential Magic is different, so I'm just going to some of the ones I know of in canon:

Wukong's Golden Sight (Consequence of the Eight Trigrams Furnace; Torture-consequence)

Ao Lie having the Samadhi Fire inside him after they fucked up the seal (Samadhi Fire/Red Son*; Samadhi-consequence)

Mei Dragon's ability to harness the Samadhi Fire/the remnants left over inside her after (Samadhi Fire/Red Son*; Samadhi-consequence)

MK's human form (form as in the shape of something btw) (Xiangliu fucked his shit up; Birth Interference-Consequence)

Macaque's new Chaos Magic (Xiangliu fucked his shit up; Chaos-Consequence)

I have spent this entire post explaining the way magic seems to work in LEGO Monkie Kid, getting slightly more and more unhinged as we go on. But there might be two things on your mind: Why? and Why does Red Son's* name have an asterisk on it every time I've mentioned him in this post?

I can answer both of those questions with one statement: Red Son does not adhere to the magic rules other characters follow. I've tried to find examples to see if I was thinking of the magic wrong — and that's fully possible — but I didn't find anything. In fact, the more I look, the more sure of this I become. It's like he actively decides against following the rules of the magic system.

He can be used as EXAMPLES of the magic system, but when you dig into his magic specifically, it's completely wack-a-doo.

First and foremost:

Red Son has a completely unique form of Magic Expression. His emotions are directly linked to his Magical Expression and release.

Emotionally linked magic release is something no other character does, but here he is doing it over and over and over again. The only example close to it is MK's Mystic Monkey form flickering in and out when he's distraught, and that's LITERALLY CREATION-GIVEN NÜWA MAGIC, THAT'S FROM A CREATURE WHOSE CANONICALLY "OUTSIDE OF THE 10 SPECIES" AND CANNOT BE CATEGORIZED?? AND ALSO NOT QUITE THE SAME EITHER.

(This could also be attributed to the concentration part of the Samadhi Fire, but he doesn't... seem to have access to that anymore? At least, not like Mei does. We'll consider it a factor in his magic expression, though.)

About his fire,

Red Son and his mom are the only two characters with Wuxing/Elemental Magic — every other example comes from a magical artifact. It's actually a 50/50 chance on whether or not PIF has wind powers or if the Banana Leaf Fan gives her wind powers (I'm pretty sure it gives her wind powers, but just to be safe we'll count her as having wind powers.) Wuxing Magic is not uncommon in actual Chinese mythology, but it is in the show for some reason. And it ALWAYS has an artifact as a conduit. Wuxing Magic always seems to be just a visual effect or an added addition to attacks in the show.

Another weird ass thing about Red Son's magic is its contrast with Nezha's. I'm pretty sure Red Son's fire is actual fire that he conjures magically, in contrast to Nezha's Wind Fire Wheels (conduits that Nezha fuels, and release Wuxing Magic as a visual effect) which make specifically magical fire.

Okay, so, I've been going through this assuming you're aware of the show's visuals concerning magic, but this is important for me to cover in detail. Everyone has two magic colors (white doesn't count for this). They can change in lighting, but you'll always recognize them as being the same general colors. Other colors may be used for emphasis, but they'll only be darker versions of the colors and they'll be used as a background for the main colors. (Quick note, MK and Wukong might have only one magic color? Fun stuff.)

The reason I think Red Son's magic is not... magic persay, is because it doesn't follow the color rule. Like, it's not actually the color of Red Son's magical energy half the time, it doesn't follow the magic color rule. Red Son's fire shifts like an actual fire, which is very cool visually, but is not how magic works.

(Quick note, magic seems to be lighter in the celestial realm. This is because the Celestial Realm is really well-lit. The environment is literally pure sunlight or some shit, so all the characters and their magic are in perfect lighting. So Red Son's magic getting inexplicably darker would make no sense unless Red Son's magic is doing that on its own and the lighting has nothing to do with it.)

His magic also isn't the color of the Samadhi Fire, nor is his fire. That time in season 5 when Mei helped him with the seal, the two of them together made a Samadhi Fire-colored seal. He didn't seem capable of doing that by himself, which leads me to my conclusion:

I think the suppression of the Samadhi Fire suppressed Red Son's Intrinsic Magic as a whole, and his magical core (as one user put it) is compensating by drawing directly from his element.

Characters having an element isn't a new thing. Wukong's element is metal, he's a metal guy, it's why he can't swim, and it's why MK can't swim. MK needs floaties because he'll sink like a rock because he shares the metal element with Wukong.

But this is a possible explanation for why Red Son's magic is so weird.

On the note of Mei having more access to the Samadhi Fire than him, Skellebonez (my rock through this journey of a post) brought up a good point: "[I] think it makes sense because whatever they did to remove it from him could have also added a barrier preventing its return to an extent[.] Like a filter[.]"

This Intrinsic Magic cap/Samadhi Filter might also explain why he keeps getting his shit rocked despite having such potential to be powerful (that's probably just because it's silly tho) and it could explain why his parents are so damn disappointed in him in season 1. It's because they took his magic from him (however unintentionally) and he's not as magical anymore. The only type of categorizable magic he uses is Celestial magic, which HUMANS can use and can be bestowed on ANYONE. You can just like... LEARN THAT, and I think he just did.

In canon, nobody ever seems to be hurt by Red Son's fire? It seems to just be... a thing that he does. Everyone is less and less scared of it as the show goes on, and the only thing it does major damage to is MK's apartment. He uses his fists to attack more than he uses his fire, it's generally left as a visual effect. Red Son uses his fire as an intimidation tactic, not as an actual weapon, and I think this could also be explained by an Intrinsic Magic cap. His intrinsic magic is suppressed, so he has to rely on things like physical strength/cultivation.

I also think nobody knows this in canon, they didn't know about it, or they don't understand it. I think Red Son has a magic limiter on him, which is why his parents were such raging fuckasses in season one. They thought their son was "useless", or in Wukong's words, "half-baked", after showing such promise in his childhood before an incident. They only got a healthier relationship after they stopped obsessing over power and spent some family time together, when they realized that their son being a powerful magical demon isn't the most important thing in the world. (AND WE WEREN'T SHOWN IT.)

Red Son is magic-disabled, in this essay I did.

ALL MAGIC COMES FROM THE PRIMORDIAL CHAOS, SO, IN ACTUALITY, ALL OF IT IS THE SAME! FUCK YOU!