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phantomfox9 · 1 year

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Finished version of Gato-Cat / UltraM0th’s Christmas story involving Derek Hale undergoing a The Santa Clause style transformation. Was originally posted last year, but was lost when their old account got deleted. I downloaded and saved a copy of the story before it got deleted, so I figured I’d repost it, so that everyone can enjoy it once again.

Of course, all credit goes to Gato-Cat, so make sure to go and follow them for more great content like this.

@gato-cat

– – –

A/N: Here’s a fun Christmas story that plays with the plot of The Santa Clause, but it involves Derek Hale from Teen Wolf turning into the jolly, big guy. I hope that you all enjoy it. And thank you to @writer-ofstuff for helping me bounce off ideas for this!

I hope you all enjoy the holidays!

♡UltraM0th

– – –

“Der!” Stiles hissed under his breath as he shook the werewolf beside him awake. “Wake up!”

“Hrmm?” Derek yawned, tightening his hold on his boyfriend in an attempt to silence him. After weeks of defending Beacon Hills from yet another supernatural threat, the werewolf was relieved that he and Stiles could spend their first Christmas together as a couple in peace.

“No, no, no!” Stiles panicked, his heartbeat really high. “I heard something walking around on the roof.”

The alpha werewolf immediately shot up and instinctually shoved the small human behind him, straining his ears. Sure enough, he could hear heavy footsteps on top of his repaired house, the wood creaking as it seemed to support something’s weight.

“Stay here,” Derek growled to his boyfriend as he stormed out of the bedroom and hurried downstairs. He made sure to flex his massive muscles in an attempt to look all the more threatening. Given his alpha status and his regular workouts, Derek Hale’s physique was blessed with muscles that popped and oozed masculinity. His massive pecs were puffed out as he bared his teeth, stalking out onto the snow-covered front lawn.

The werewolf sniffed at the wintery air, catching a whiff of what he thought was cinnamon and sugar— something disgustingly sweet, making him recoil at the scent.

Peering up into the night sky, Derek could barely make out the large silhouette of someone skulking around on the rooftop, heading towards the chimney.

“Hey!” Derek roared up at the unknown figure, using his booming alpha voice to scare it. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

The shadowed figure up on the roof jerked back in shock at the alpha’s baritone, quickly losing its footing and tumbling down the icy roof, falling to the ground with a loud thud. Derek slowly approached the figure, his fighting stance ready, as he took in the sight of whatever it was that had fallen from his roof. The figure was cloaked in a large red fabric that had white trimming. Its overwhelming sugary scent made sense a little bit when Derek took in the fact that the creature was rather large, and based on the slight jiggle its body had upon impact, there was a large amount of fat on it. There was white curly hair that obscured its face... no way.

“Derek!” Stiles gasped as he rushed outside, a baseball bat in his hands, pausing when he took in the sight before him. “You killed Santa Claus!”

The werewolf looked back to meet his boyfriend’s horrified eyes, instantly growing defensive. “I did not!” he countered. “The guy fell on his own!”

“I’m still alive, Mieczysław,” the injured Santa Claus muttered face down in the snow. With a grunt, the old man turned over onto his back. “Now if I could get some help, that would be nice.”

Derek looked over at the red-faced Stiles at the mention of his first name, but before he could ask, his boyfriend held up a hand.

“We should help him inside,” Stiles hurriedly said as he dropped the bat and rushed forward to help drag Santa inside the house.

Derek huffed, but nevertheless helped his boyfriend, winding up doing most of the work. He plopped Santa Claus onto the couch in the living room, struggling to put two and two together.

“So, uh,” Derek mumbled as he paced the living room, “you’re real?”

The supposed fairy tale man chuckled, even going so far as to grab the sides of his jiggling gut. “Of course I’m real, Derek,” Santa Claus laughed. “You’d think that in a world with werewolves that Santa Claus would exist too, right?”

“He does have a point,” Stiles chimed in as he entered the living room to hand the jolly old man a cup of coffee. “So does this mean that Krampus is real too? Because I’ve read about him before and he sounds really creepy and like something I’d like to avoid.”

“Yeah, he’s down the block,” Santa said, ignoring the look of fear on the human’s face. “However, we have bigger issues afoot. With me injured right now, I need someone to help deliver the rest of the presents in my sleigh.” He looked at the alpha werewolf with expectant eyes.

Derek wanted to argue but Stiles also looked at him with the same expression, and he felt his resolve quickly melt. “Fine,” he grunted. “What do I have to do?”

Santa Claus smiled and took off his trademark hat, shucking his redcoat as well. “First, put those on,” he instructed.

Derek did as he was told, sliding on the massive coat that was three sizes too big for him, making it look like he was swimming in the soft fabric that actually felt good against his bare chest. Lastly, he put on the hat.

“Now, eat this,” Santa said as he pulled a gingerbread cookie out of his pocket. “It will transfer some of my powers to you.”

With a huff, Derek took the offered cookie and quickly ate it, a little surprised at how good it was considering that it’d come from an old man’s pocket. “Okay, now what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a slight itchy sensation around his face and he reached up to scratch his beard... wait.

Derek gasped as he ran his hands over his face, feeling the beard that had seemingly sprouted out of nowhere. The shocked werewolf darted over towards a mirror and looked in it, paling when he saw the beard that now dominated the lower half of his face. It wasn’t as bushy as the titular Santa Claus’s, but it definitely looked like it would’ve taken about a year for the man to grow. It was still his usual black, yet there were trace flecks of white that he could see in it.

“What the hell is this?” Derek demanded, turning around and pointing at his face, even stomping his foot out of irritation. That last action made him wince when he felt an unfamiliar jiggling at his gut.

Derek looked down in time to see his body quickly inflating, with most of the growth centered around his stomach. His abs filled in before his stomach was flat, which then pushed outwards. His gut grew larger and rounder, jutting away from his torso until it completely filled the red coat he was wearing, making it the perfect fit. Even his pecs inflated, filling up with fat until he had sizable muscletits that weren’t just toned. Derek was slightly relieved to see that he still retained all of his hard-earned muscles, they were just covered by a thick layer of fat, making him look more like a beefy version of Santa Claus. His arms followed suit, losing their definition as they packed on more meat. He blushed furiously as his thighs widened and he felt his ass puff out and get more jiggly, stretching the confines of his sweatpants to the limit.

Once his transformation was done, Derek stood in shock for a moment as he examined his newly inflated form.

“What the fuck did you do to me?!” he shouted as he tried to stalk threateningly over towards the couch, but he inwardly flinched when he felt his new gut jiggling with every step he took.

Santa Claus didn’t look fazed and instead snapped his fingers. “You better hurry up,” he said. “There’s a lot of houses I haven’t gotten to yet.”

Before he could argue some more, Derek felt an unknown force yanking him towards the chimney. He was glad that there wasn’t a fire in there because said force tugged him into the actual fireplace, squeezing his new bulk through the chimney with such ease he might as well have been greased. It spat him out onto the roof and once he saw the sleigh and the reindeer, he knew just what he’d gotten himself into. The sleigh was just as he’d seen on Christmas cards, being red with golden trim. In the back was a large white sack that was loosely tied at the top with various toys sticking out of the opening.

“This is gonna be a long night,” the bulky werewolf sighed as he hopped into the sleigh, wincing as he felt his inflated gut settle into place on his lap.

There was a metallic clang followed by the huffing of Stiles climbing a ladder. He made it to the rooftop, clad in a thick winter coat and sweatpants. “Wait up!” he gasped. “I’m coming with you!”

Derek looked at the falling snowflakes and shook his head, the white pompom on the Santa hat waving around like crazy from the motion. “No way,” he grunted. “It’s below freezing, you’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll just huddle up next to you,” Stiles countered as he started to climb inside the sleigh.

The inflated werewolf knew it was no use arguing with his stubborn boyfriend. “Fine,” he muttered, scooting over to the side of the sleigh to make room.

Stiles squeezed himself inside the sleigh, one side pressed against the hardwood of the sleigh and the other squishing into the sides of Derek’s new bulk. “Um, can you scoot over a little bit?” he asked. “There’s barely any room.”

The blush on Derek’s bearded face deepened to match his coat. “I’m already all the way over to the other side,” he growled. The werewolf tried to shift over some more, his inflated bulk jiggling wildly as he tried to make room. However, his widened hips were already pressed against the other side of the sleigh. His rotund gut took up the most room and it felt really heavy on top of him, impeding most of his movements. With an annoyed grunt, the werewolf maneuvered a heavy arm over the human’s smaller shoulders and pressed him against his squishy bulk in an effort to make more room.

Stiles grabbed a hold of the reins and yanked on them. “Mush!” he excitedly yelled out... but the sleigh stayed put.

One of the reindeer even looked over its shoulder at him and snorted.

“I think it has to be me,” Derek sighed, taking the reins from the disappointed Stiles. As soon as they were in his beefy hands, the sleigh lurched forward as they flew off the roof and into the night sky.

Out of instinct, Stiles tried to wrap his arms around Derek as they flew, but he couldn’t wrap his arms around even a third of the chubby version of his boyfriend. However, that brought about another issue to the alpha werewolf.

He fought a hiss at the feeling of the much smaller Stiles squeezing against his large gut, the action sending foreign shivers of pleasure throughout him. He hadn’t noticed until he saw it curling over the opening of the coat, but even his chest hair had grown in during his transformation, making him look like a total bear. The hairs only served as pleasure receptors, amplifying the intense feelings he had as Stiles brushed up against his sensitive chest and gut. He couldn’t tell if the nubs poking against the coat caused by his larger nipples were from the blistering cold or from excitement. The way his cock was hardening (and totally concealed by his cresting gut) told Derek that it was the latter.

Derek was embarrassed at first because of his sudden one-hundred pound weight gain, but now he was utterly distraught to find that his new gut was incredibly sensitive. A small part of him was relieved when the reindeer landed on another rooftop, but a louder part was disappointed when Stiles let go of him, leaving behind tingling want all over his jiggling mass.

Still struggling to make sense of what was going on, Derek climbed out of the sleigh, having an awkward time getting used to walking around with thighs that kept pushing against each other and a gut that jiggled with every step. He grabbed the sack from the sleigh and waddled over to the chimney, stuffing it down first.

The alpha werewolf then positioned himself on top of it and started to go down feet first. He managed to fit his thick thighs and widened hips in, thankfully squeezing his bubblebutt inside too. However, Derek groaned loudly when his large gut got wedged in the chimney, making him stuck.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” Derek roared out in frustration. “What’s the point of making me grow this!?” He gestured at his large gut as he tried to wiggle himself free.

“The only thin Santas you see are in porn?” Stiles meekly offered as he hopped out of the sleigh to try to help. “Try sucking it in.”

“I am sucking it in,” Derek growled, his gut far to large to make his efforts noticeable.

It took a bit of maneuvering and dedication, but the Santa Derek eventually managed to squeeze himself through the chimney—thanks to Stiles’s suggestion of thinking “Jolly Thoughts” so as to give more into the Santa role. He’d thought that it was stupid, but humored him anyway, only to be sucked down the chimney in an instant.

“That was weird,” Derek huffed as he found himself standing in the living room of the unknown house. Wanting to waste no time at all in case someone sees him (or worse recognizes him and laughs at the fact that he’d been turned into Santa Claus) he quickly went to literally throwing the toys out of the bag and aiming them at the Christmas tree. It wasn’t long until the bag was empty, which he automatically knew somehow that it would magically refill at the next house.

Derek breathed a sigh of relief and went to head back towards the chimney when the delicious aroma of sugar wafted by his nostrils, making his big stomach growl hungrily.

The werewolf turned to look in the direction of the scent, rolling his eyes when he saw the plate of cookies and the glass of milk that was on the coffee table. As soon as he made eye contact with the cookies, his stomach growled even louder.

“Really?” he whined, even grabbed at his protruding gut in irritation. “I don’t even like sweets.”

His stomach growled much louder now and he worried that it’d wake up the occupants in the house.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath as he waddled towards the coffee table. The cookies looked like they were from a holiday collection from the grocery store, containing an array of sugar cookies iced and decorated to look like trees, snowmen, etc. Derek could feel himself drooling as he stared at them and he picked up a snowman shaped cookie, taking one bite of it.

As soon as his tongue tasted the sweet sugar of the cookie, he couldn’t stop himself from greedily scarfing the rest of it down. In a frenzy, the werewolf bent over and hungrily ate the rest of the cookies, barely able to control himself enough to pocket one for Stiles, before downing the glass of milk.

His stomach felt satisfied and Derek patted it contently, noting that it had bloated the smallest bit from his quick eating, looking slightly rounder. “Of course...” he grunted as he rolled his eyes for the thousandth time that night. He turned to leave, but his protruding gut knocked over the standing lamp that he was next to, making it crash to the ground. He quickly waddled back over to the fireplace and was sucked up through the chimney, landing gracefully on his feet on the roof.

“How’d it go?” Stiles excitedly asked.

“It was fine,” Derek muttered. “Oh... here.” He handed his boyfriend the cookie before settling back into the sleigh. Again, he fought back a moan as Stiles settled back into place and snuggled up against his sensitive bulk. He wrapped his arm around the human and they took off to the next house.

“Der,” Stiles said, looking up the werewolf Santa Claus, “you have cookie crumbs in your beard.”

The rest of night followed the similar pattern: Derek would nearly blow a load in his pants over having Stiles rub up against his sensitive bulk, he would be sucked down into a chimney, he would place the gifts under the tree, he’d gobble up every last cookie that was left for Santa Claus, he would get sucked back up the chimney to the roof, and he would get excited at the idea of Stiles rubbing up against his gut again. By the end of the night, Derek had fallen into that routine and had completed every house without an issue—except for Scott’s where Scott had woken up and had laughed at the Santa Derek with the jiggling gut and bushy beard, making Derek growl and storm out the front door instead of taking the chimney.

Despite that, Derek started to look forward to the times when he and Stiles would be flying through the air and the latter would press against his bulk. When they’d flown through the cold Finnish airspace, Derek had opened up his coat to let Stiles use his body heat, and he’d came on the spot at having the human nuzzle against his hairy gut and inflated pecs. Stiles was none the wiser, happily enjoying the ride and experience, all the while Derek was humiliated beyond belief, thankful that his new beard hid most of his blush.

– – –

Finally, as soon as the sun was beginning to rise, Santa Claus was starting to feel better as he relaxed in the Hale House.

The inflated werewolf plopped out of the fireplace and tumbled onto the living room floor, groaning as he rested on his back, completely exhausted from his busy night of having to deliver presents to all the children of the world.

“Derek!” Santa cheerfully greeted him. “How was it?”

The stunned werewolf grunted and rubbed the tiredness away from his eyes. “Damn,” he grunted, “that was definitely an experience.” He tore the hat away from his head and stood up to take off Santa’s coat, frowning at the sight of his inflated, hairy body.

After a few seconds, Stiles hurried inside the house through the front door, still all smiles. “That was amazing!” he said.

Santa Claus smiled warmly at the werewolf before standing up. “Thanks a lot for your help, Derek,” he chuckled. “I’ll make sure to add you to the Nice List.”

“Wow, that’s super awesome,” Derek mocked. “Now change me back!” He gestured down at his gut which blocked the rest of his view of his lower body.

Santa Claus shrugged his coat back on. “Sorry Derek,” he said as he pulled his hat on. “There is no antidote for that, but maybe I can call on you for help next Christmas?” The magical man gave the couple a wink before disappearing up the chimney in a flash, leaving no chance for argument.

Derek felt his new gut drop at what he’d just heard. Not only was he stuck with the beard and the sensitive gut, but he was expected to help out and be Replacement Claus next year too? “You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” Derek growled as he grasped at his hairy gut, giving it a tentative poke. He was panicking over how much his life was going to change by being the werewolf Santa Claus when he caught another whiff in the air, this one emanating from his boyfriend who stood beside him.

Stiles was turned on.

“Really?” Derek asked, cocking his eyebrow at the human as he gestured at his gut and beard. “This does it for you?”

Stiles blushed a little bit and had a hard time maintaining eye contact with the beefy werewolf. “I like my men big and hairy,” he quietly admitted.

Now Derek may have loved to work out and loved to use his large muscles to his advantage, intimidating any threat that dared to cross into his territory, but he loved Stiles even more. Therefore, the sight of his boyfriend blushing made his heart flutter and the werewolf started to realize that maybe being beefy and hairy wouldn’t be too bad... especially if he could get Stiles to rub up against his gut some more.

“Well,” Derek blushed back, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s waist to pull him in close to his inflated form, squeezing him tightly against his new hairy gut enjoying the way it immediately made his cock rock hard, “ho, ho, ho.”

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therealblessedaffliction · 23 days

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Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

seen on and snatched from @bunnakit

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? I started writing my own stories about cartoon characters because the episodes on TV were too far apart

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

Chan's room episodes

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? a fucking solid 2, because the more I see my own fic, the more disgusted I grow with it and lose the will to post it. The 2 is because I do realise editing is necessary.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? I am calling @hardcandythinking but only to vent, I already know where to rent a woodchipper from

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love @ellieellieoxenfree

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now? in my business inbox, 51. In my personal account, 0

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis@sparkly-butthole-on-ao3

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? I used to be really into writing the OG characters

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before I have come to terms that I will always have an eating disorder, the difference now is that I've decided to profit from it.

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? I am fucking exhausted, fam. And the supreme lack of interest in my writing in this new fandom. Feeling unwanted and tired has managed to give me a writer's block that I have successfully dodged for 20+ years.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Here's two-

Geralt and Jaskier are so in love with each other, even platonically. They don't want to admit it, but they have a really warm and cozy love bubble around them and both are afraid that if they speak about it, it'll make them feel less giddy and elated and pull this bubble into reality, making it vulnerable to being popped by evil forces.

Jace's nonchalant attitude re: the people he bangs and his unflinching love for Alec always made me think he is an in denial asexual - he is obviously not sex-repulsed but he wields sex like a weapon or like a quick fix to avoid looking at deeper emotions affecting him. I fucking love Jace to death, he gets so little credit.

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

talk to me on tumblr

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

My cat's health is better

I am losing weight and gaining muscle, feeling fitter than in my 20s

I found a hairdresser I absolutely love going to

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? some Korean words for reference. In Korean.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character Yennefer is a gigantic selfish asshole, with only moments of emotional clarity and kindness and she treats Geralt like absolute crap most of the time.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? yeah not gonna make the FBI man's job easy. stay wondering, bro!

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

It's always better to assume people are assholes by default and then let yourself be pleasantly surprised when they are decent than the other way around. Saves you a world of disappointment.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I can't pick rn.

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

The only way around it is through it. It helps to do various other creative things, it will recharge your creativity in the realm you feel it's low in. Like if you have writer's block, make some art. Draw some shit, splash some colours, bake and decorate a birthday cake, go outside and photograph some flowers.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh "My butthole! I blew out my butthole!"

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? When someone picks their favourite parts of the chapter or fic, and details their thoughts on it for my enjoyment.

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate Alec is a good leader, perseverent and insightful.

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? God I used to lie more often than I breathed when I was a kid and a teen. Lately I just lie to get out of having to socialise.

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

I find stanning a K-Pop group to be 20% fun and 80% disheartening if you're older because you definitely feel like you can't sit with the cool kids and everything is just a really good, hi-def illusion set up to make you bust your wallet wide open, so every moment of genuine relatability and connection is invalidated by the feeling that these people are part of a marketing strategy. It's kind of like going to see strippers and even if you like one, you know that even if you fell in love with them, you're not allowed to get to know them because for them it's just work and you are only worth the cash you pay in their eyes. The closeness is an illusion that leaves you feeling even lonelier and sadder than you were before.

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? There are a lot of them but my core reference is Anne Rice's writing. Now I am writing something that was inspired by the portrayal of Jack Reacher in the "Reacher" series on Amazon.

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing It would be nice if I could write stuff that's relatable to others, not just to me. But that would mean biiiiiiiig consciousness shift and I'm extremely pussilanimous when it comes to this.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? I think the delivery matters a lot - a surprise is being told something that you don't know yet, and if the person breaking the news makes it seem like a heart attack from shock is the adequate response, then better don't tell me, just show me.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

Hyunjin had made himself comfortable on his bed, with his legs propped up on the headboard, leaving just his shirt and his socks on. He intended to drag it out as much as he could and get the most out of those pics.

Magazine in one hand, dick in the other - that’s how Changbin had found him, walking in to ask a very pressing question. (65 words bc just the 50 didn't make sense alone.)

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? Thinking about my love-hate relationship with writing.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

@hardcandythinking is my bestie and my number 1 fan. She's the real MVP.

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by 𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐀 🌻 STAYTIST (@kerimaix)

instagram

This is so surreal - Chan is a human with two sets of ears and the rest of the members are tiny wee animals - and the love, goofiness and fun are so well captured. This artist also depicts Chan as shy and cute, and I prefer this to the hard dom or arrogant inaccessible guy takes I see more often. Like I get it's appealing to others but I like a squeaky, shy guy better than any alpha dude character.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

poor characterization on a macro level

crass and goofy consistent misspelling like "nobbing" instead of "nodding", "viscous" instead of "vicious", "colon" instead of "cologne"

offputting descriptions like "chubby little cock" or "fat mushroom" (used for dick tips). I would lose my erection if someone talked to me like that irl

#writers truth and dare #I know no one's gonna send me asks so I did it like this bc it was fun anyway #writing #Spotify #Instagram

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justjensenanddean · 2 years

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Jensen Ackles on Stepping Into the 'Twisted' World of 'The Boys' Season 3 (Exclusive)

Jensen Ackles may still be in the Supernatural universe as narrator and executive producer of The CW's upcoming prequel, The Winchesters, but he'll be putting a twist on the superhero genre when he suits up as Soldier Boy on season 3 of Amazon Prime Video's The Boys. To prepare for the role as one the original Supes, the 44-year-old actor bulked up considerably.

"I did, I did. It's all gone now, I feel like a deflated balloon," Ackles said to ET's Matt Cohen, admitting the process of getting into shape "was difficult, especially during COVID" due to gyms being closed.

"I just had to throw my kids around as much as I could and that'll quickly build your muscle. Had I known -- this is what Antony [Starr] says to me, he was like, 'Why don't you just have them add muscles to your suit?' I’m like, 'Oh, oh a**hole, thanks, yeah,'" he said jokingly. "But then putting on the suit, those things are works of art. They're incredibly well-crafted and well-made but they're not ideal to spend 14 hours in day in and day out, so something about peeling those things off at the end of the day was very satisfying."

Turning the page to the next chapter of his career after 15 seasons being in Dean Winchester's shoes on Supernatural was freeing, but Ackles acknowledged he hasn't had much time to think about his legacy -- especially with the prequel slated for a fall launch and keeping busy with new projects. (He'll be a series regular on the new season of ABC's Big Sky.)

"I haven’t found the time! I’ve cloned myself. I am No. 3," Ackles said with a laugh. "You're speaking to No.3 today."

"A lot of people forget that we we filmed this a year ago and it takes a long time to post The Boys as you can imagine," he reminded. "It is quite the spectacle. Everybody’s got some other things going on and we just ty to keep juicing this industry as much as we possibly can. It's feast or famine and coming in to play this role certainly after coming off of 15 years of Eric Kripke's world, it's felt very natural to just step right into another one."

"And this one was basically all the things that Kripke would’ve probably done on Supernatural and now gotten to do on The Boys. It's Kripke unleashed and it just goes to show what a sick, twisted person he really is," Ackles said, ribbing his former Supernatural collaborator.

His other Boys co-stars also had glowing things to say about Ackles' presence in the new season, acknowledging that there were times when the actor was hesitant about how far he could go on the NSFW superhero show.

"Working on The Boys for Jensen Ackles was a process of finding his line in the sand of what is too far to go and when you have Jensen Ackles going, 'Dude, I don’t know if I can do this, man,' you know you’re in the right place. The audience is in for a real treat," Karl Urban said, adding that Ackles fit "right in." "He's one of those guys who has an innate ability to assess a situation in a scene and actually come up with really constructive ideas about how to make it work to make it better. He's a seasoned pro and we were really lucky to have him."

"He did a bazillion seasons with Eric on Supernatural but for him to just be like, 'Yo, this is too far,' you thought he was used to how far it could go and he was not," Jack Quaid added. "He was great to have on the show. He was just such an incredible presence and we had a lot of fun, the three of us."

Fans of The Boys are in for a real treat (and tons of surprises!) when the episodes officially kick off Friday, but, as Chace Crawford joked, the best celebrity appearance was Ackles.

"There’s this guy right here," Crawford said, pointing to Ackles. "Getting him on this season was just incredible for many reasons."

But there may be a few familiar faces popping up over the course of the season, some that will be unexpected.

"The first episode, I remember we watched it [when] it premiered in Paris and the first episode is there are some very familiar faces," Ackles recalled. "I remember turning to Kripke thinking, 'How the hell did you get that person to do what you just...?'"

"Very familiar faces doing things you don't necessarily expect," Crawford teased.

The first three episodes of The Boys season 3 drop Friday on Amazon Prime Video.

etonline

#Jensen Ackles #Soldier Boy #S3: The Boys #*

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mistys-blerbz · 1 year

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Keep Your Eyes On Me • Chapter 18

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Mitchell!OC

Summary:

Elizabeth “Ghost” Mitchell is the daughter of what some would say is the most decorated Naval Captain. But when she is called back to North Island for a special mission she is forced to face her past loves, past hurts, and past losses.

Warnings:

violence, swearing, PTSD, war, mental illness & probably more

Word Count: 4,766

Cross Posted: A03 • Wattpad

Story Masterlist

Elizabeth swung her arm, screaming as her fist made contact with the poor woman across from her. The cheers and jaunts rang through her ears as her opponent stumbled. She moved forward, swinging once again and causing the woman to fall to the ground. But there was no mercy. The American woman knew nothing but the pain in her muscles from her regular duties during the day and the pain in her fists from the games she was forced to play by night. The Russians seemed to enjoy their prisoners beating the living hell out of one another.

She couldn't deny that it wasn't fair. She was trained to fight. She boxed frequently to keep up her fitness and skill. And a lot of her opponents were women who had no clue what they were doing. But if she pulled her punches, there would be nothing for her but punishment. Besides, she was beginning to enjoy this. Her mind was numb and she was almost forgetful of who she was. This wasn't her. She knew mercy and love. Only preying on those who hurt others. But not anymore. Now, when she looked at reflective surfaces, she only saw those pale dead eyes looking back at her. A ghost of herself.

She breathed heavily as she watched her opponent get dragged out of the makeshift arena, feeling the sweat drip down her face. She took the water being shoved in her hands as guards began handing over money to the bets they failed and immediately making bets on who would win the next fight.

Elizabeth watched as a man stepped in front of her. She glanced over at the guard before looking at the shirtless man. He was taller than her - though that wasn't hard to do - and built. This was the first time they stuck a man in front of her. Guess her beating defenseless women wasn't entertaining enough for them.

The two opponents circled one another, eyes dark. Elizabeth scanned her opponent. He had prison tattoos, Russian in origin. He was well groomed. He wasn't a prisoner. Meaning he was well-fed and possibly had a full 8 hours of sleep. Unfair. But she couldn't help the excitement that bellowed through her.

It wasn't until the man lunged at her that the fight commenced, both getting solid hits in. His swings were brutal, causing her to lose balance and see stars. But it only made her excitement increase. She had an edge though. He seemed to be slightly pulling his punches. And every time he swung, there was a slight hesitation in his shoulder. He was injured. Stupid man. She used it to her advantage, dodging his swing and coming in from behind him. She swiped at his legs and climbed on top, repeatedly punching in his face before the man wasn't moving. She would most likely pay for this later. Punching out a guard tended to do such a thing. But he asked for it. Besides, based on the hoots and hollers, the rest of them enjoyed the show.

Wake up, fix planes, eat, fix planes some more, move cargo, eat, fight, sleep, repeat.

That was it and she had accepted it. It was her life. And the fighting let her pent-up rage come out. She couldn't help but laugh, relishing in the praise of her captures, loving the taste of her own blood seeping into her mouth from her nose. She raised her bloody fists high. She was ready for another opponent. What once was a form of punishment had quickly become the highlight of her days.

Elizabeth walked back and forth, hauling different building materials to where the Russians were rebuilding their exploded base. The mountain was a complex set of tunnels and chambers. Something she thought only happened in action movies. What were the current popular movies? The last time John had bored her with another attempted escape plan, he informed her it had been nine months of capture.

“Get out of the way, American,” spat Anastasia, the ringleader of the prisoners. She was a muscular woman. And tall. She had to be six feet tall, 250 pounds. She made it her mission to strike fear in anybody who wasn't her and her small click of friends. And Elizabeth hated every moment of the woman. That was the second time today she had bumped into her, causing her to drop her things making her get in trouble yet again.

Elizabeth was a meek thing. She was quiet and kept her head low. She did anything she could so she wouldn't be sent back to the torture chambers. That's when the bullying started. And it had become progressively worse as Elizabeth let it slide. Elizabeth looked down at the broken bricks as a guard came rushing over to her.

“That is the second time today!” the man spat out, his thick accent making it only a little bit hard to understand. “I would say you’re doing it on purpose. We will show you what happens when prisoners disobey,” he said as another guard grabbed her.

She remembered begging them, trying to explain. She was afraid of being tortured again. But instead, she ended up here. She remembered the punishment clearly: being beaten so badly till a female guard stopped Anastasia from killing her. She was valuable enough that they needed her to fix planes, do maintenance on trucks. Thank God for that. It wasn't long until the bullying got so bad that Elizabeth purposefully got in trouble. She ended up beating Anastasia within an inch of her life. Now the woman stayed as far away from her and now Elizabeth was the champion of the ring.

Champion or not, it didn't stop her blood from running ice cold when she saw the man she would be competing against next. His eyes were equally as surprised as hers. She hadn't seen him in months. It had taken everything within her not to think about him being dead.

“Liz.”

“John.”

“Fight fight fight fight fight,” the crowd chanted.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” John said over the crowd.

She didn't know what to do. He was her moral compass. And now he was back. He was supposed to be dead. She wished he was dead. Only because it meant he had finally escaped and was free from this hell she hated to admit it was. She loved living in the utopia of her mind. If she was the only one here, then she could give up without accountability. The devil on her shoulder could lull her brain into submitting to her captors as it had for the past several months. But here he was. The angel came back from the dead to bring her back into reality. And she was angry.

She immediately charged forward, jumping up before swinging, punching the mountain of a man square in the face and catching him off guard. She was angry. Why was he here? Why did he have to come back from the dead? She remembered the day he was taken away vividly. They had quickly learned that whenever someone left, they never came back. They were either killed or sent to a different base. And seeing as John was a problem child for the Russians, it was obvious he had to be killed no matter how strong he was.

“Liz, what are you doing?” the man said, panic in his eyes as he saw the woman before him. This wasn't his Elizabeth.

What happened to the broken woman he left behind? Or rather was forced to leave behind? She was feral, bathing in the glory their prison guards gave her. She was comfortable here? The woman he knew would never be comfortable. Not after what they did. He immediately began fighting back, the two brawling it out. But that was the thing. He knew he could easily subdue her. He might not be as muscular or healthy as he once was. But he was still larger. And he knew her tricks.

“Stop pulling your punches you son of a bitch,” Liz seethed, punching him again in the face as he tried to pin her down.

He was excited to be back, hoping his disappearance had sent her into overdrive. Maybe she would have escaped. If that were the case, that would make his life easier. Or perhaps she would have had a fire in her and wouldn't have hesitated like the many times she had when he tried to get them out. Anybody else would have hated her for ruining so many escape plans. Or would have left her behind. But he couldn't leave her behind. He understood her hesitation. Her fear. But this wasn't Elizabeth. This was a whole new animal. He hadn't counted on the fact that him being forced away would have made her accept her fate as she had.

He stopped fighting back, feeling every harsh blow to his face and chest and gut as he fell to the ground. The woman eagerly climbed on top and punched him in the face again and again, his nose surely broken.

“It's okay,” he breathed out, smiling a bloody smile that caused her eyes to widen a bit.

“Fight back, you stupid bastard,” she seethed, punching him again. And again. And again. Tears were slowly falling from her eyes.

“Sunny, where have you gone?” he sputtered out through his bloody nose, causing her eyes to widen further. Her fist was raised in the air to strike again, only to pull away, leaving him lying there in pain. Guards rushed over to drag him to be treated as her fist was forced into the air again and she was pronounced the winner of the night once again.

She sat in the medical bay, her face swollen and body sore as she was hammered with questions. She didn't know a moment of peace. Anytime an official or therapist wasn't asking her questions, she was being poked and prodded and told she was lucky. How was being captured, tortured and forced to watch everyone who trusted you die an agonizing death considered lucky? She wished they would have just shot her then and there and been done with it. That way she didn't have to listen to the youngest boy she was in charge of blaming her for his death as he lay there crying bleeding to death.

He wasn't wrong either. It was her fault. And she would bear the weight of her decisions for the rest of her life.

She didn't know how long she had been staring off into space or how long the young boy she had grown so fond of was sitting there until she heard the page of a book turn. Her gaze shifted to the perfectly tan boy from Hawaii. She watched as his brow scrunched as he concentrated on the book in his hand. Her gaze looked over the book title - The Hunger Games: Catching Fire.

“You know, being in war, team gale makes more and more sense. Though I always rooted for him anyways,” she said. It was the first time her voice wasn't barred down by the formality of talking to superiors. It was her own and it was about something careless. The warmth in her chest swelled only a little. She hadn't realized she missed normal conversations so much.

“No no no, see that's where you're wrong. Peeta is the type of guy you want,” the young boy in front of her said, looking up from the book to look at his sergeant.

“See that's where you're wrong. Gale was right. Why not give the capital what they had been given the districts?”

“Because then you're no better than they are?”

“See that's the thing John, we aren't already,” she said, not sure when the shift in her brain went from a fictional tyrannical government to the real world. Her mind shifted to the evils she wanted to inflict on those who inflicted evils on her. Her stormy eyes were muddled in the images of those evils being done over and over again to the people she hated. She didn’t notice the soft brown eyes that shifted from shock to confusion to pity to genuine sadness.

“Sunny…” his voice trailed cutting her off from rivaling in the fictional screams of her captures. “Where have you gone?”

The question caught her off guard. Her heart tugged once again as she thought about it more. Where had she gone? Had her captures really muddled her mind so far as to have her enjoy the killing? To not care if the people she was ordered to kill had families? To want to inflict harm without care? It made her shudder, tears slowly filling her eyes. And finally, the waterworks commenced for the first time since she had basically crashed landed on that airstrip. Her sob ripped through her already sore throat, every wrack of her body shooting pains through it as she felt the gentle embrace of the young boy's arms wrapping around her tightly.

Johns POV

John's eyes slowly opened as he felt gentle hands slowly wiping at his face. A low groan left his lips as he tried to sit up, vision still blurry.

“No, down,” said a rough voice. His vision cleared a little more to reveal the familiar shape of his sergeant, his lieutenant, his friend.

“Sunny,” he let out.

“Shh,” she said shortly as she continued to clean him up.

His eyes looked over her features. She had hardened. More than he could have imagined her to. Her normally delicate soft features were almost angular in the harsh lighting they were in. She had gotten bigger. She was so weak when he saw her last. And now she was strong as an ox, maybe even stronger than before they were captured.

“Elizabeth-”

“Elizabeth’s dead,” she said shortly, pulling away from him now and not making eye contact.

“I have a way we can get out.”

“I don’t want out, John. This is our home now, and there's nothing we can do about it.”

“But there is,” he insisted, finally sitting up as he watched her wrap her hands. Her knuckles were scabbed over and bruised from their direct contact with human skin and bone.

“John, last time you ran, you almost got killed. Last time I ran, so did i. I'm done. Just give the Russians what they want and move on.”

His eyebrow raised. She tried to escape? That gave him hope.

“You tried to escape?”

“Tried. Failed. I'm lucky the guards who came after me needed me for their wager against some chick…” she grumbled. “I win that fight, I go free. Simple. I've fought bigger,” she said directly, a glint of pride in her eye. Why did she seem so excited by that? He watched her closely before sighing.

“I need to get home to Natia and Kalani,” he murmured. He noticed the glint of recognition in her eyes. Her shoulders relaxed a little at the thought of them.

“Then go home to them. I'm done fighting,” she mumbled before standing and walking away.

It wasn't long before he was back on his feet. Not like he had much of a choice. Being one of the biggest men around made him needed and utilizable. He used his credibility to get around. He took on any job and made sure he knew as much as possible. He was getting out of here. He just wished it was with Elizabeth.

He sat at the lunch table, taking the information a different guard gave him. He was to be smuggled out in a shipment container from there he was on his own. He made his way towards the area he was told to be at by the guard only to be surrounded. He was cheated against. Lied to. Of course, he was. His eyes landed on the oh so familiar face. The one that haunted his dreams. The one imprinted on the back of his eyelids. The one that had caused him so much pain. A pain he never knew he could endure.

He was quickly dragged away as he shouted, catching the attention of different prisoners who were on their way back to their barracks for the night. His screams were manic, wanting to be shot. He couldn't go back. Not again. Why again?

His eyes caught a glimpse of someone familiar. There she was. The girl he remembered. The look of a woman who he cared for very much. Her eyes were in shock before hardening into something darker. A look that could send shivers down any man's back. That was the last thing he saw before he was drug out of view.

Authors note: writing chapter 19. sorry for the angst. kinda not sorry tho. my beta reader had a lot of crying emotes for this chapter.

Editor(s): @delicatenightfury

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#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun 2 #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x oc #hangman #hangman fic #hangman fanfiction #hangman fluff #hangman top gun #hangman x oc #hangman seresin #top gun hangman

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mikaharuka · 1 year

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Last Words... for Feb 21, 2023

I finally returned with a regular 'last words' post without being tied to a tag game, so I'm keeping the intro simple. I have more stuff to post, after all, since the forest god finally made his presence known, so...

There isn't anything 'NSFW' in the excerpt, but it is from Prithvi-Chandra, so it comes with the usual horny energy and context. And as usual, this is a raw draft with only a few obvious edits, so SPAG errors, repetition, awkward wording, etc. are definitely present.

@mrsmungus @udaberriwrites - since you might be interested, but also so you can see the mess I wrote while you were asleep XD

[From Prithvi: Chandra]

After a few silent moments, Beau slowly opened his eyes and turned towards the voice.

The man… no, the forest god was quite unlike the man he met the previous night, but he was undoubtedly the same person. Even if his appearance was different and far more grandiose, he was the same, incredibly handsome man with a similar, but more powerful and commanding presence, befitting the Horned God of the Wood.

His eyes were gold - but rather than the softer, bright gold that Beau was very familiar with, they were a vivid white-gold. Similar to the electrum-tinted eyes from the previous night, they carried a sharper edge, cutting right through his red veil to meet his eyes.

Of course, the man had that same brilliant blond hair that drew everyone’s eyes, but instead of the shorter hair that framed his face, it was incredibly long - far longer than Beau’s own hair, reaching well beyond his lower back. The new addition that stood out were a pair of thick, branched antlers that easily extended a foot, perhaps even two feet, above his head. Vines of English ivy intertwined throughout, with leaves blooming from the razor-sharp edges and points, dipping low enough to trace along pointed ears.

Those bright-green, star-shaped leaves also adorned the long, sleeveless black robes he wore, showing off muscled arms and pale skin marked by dark geometric patterns all along their length. The robes were also left open in front, showcasing a similarly toned chest and intricate, tattoo-like patterns. Beau’s gaze followed further down, along the length of his body, noting similarly loose-fitting dark pants that reached half-way down his calves, that left his tattooed ankles and feet bare. After noting the densely-packed patterns that nearly left the forest god’s feet nearly ink-black, Beau returned his gaze to the lines and curves adorning the man’s ink-stained musculature.

As if caught in a hypnosis, Beau found his hand raised, fingers reaching out to trace along the same patterns his eyes followed. Much to his surprise, his fingers made contact with a cool, hard surface and followed along the inked pattern just as a burst of that intoxicating blend of sandalwood, vanilla, and black cardamom hit his senses. Except this time, it was far more potent than the scent lingering in the chiffon veil and carried a slightly different undertone to it. The artificial edge of disinfectant wasn’t there, and it felt warmer somehow - which made sense, given the forest setting.

Beau leaned closer to the origin of the scent and a stronger burst of the aroma soon diffused through the red fabric. He closed his eyes, in the hopes that it would help him identify the different note much more quickly. It had a more rounded, natural feeling like the earth, but still felt sharp somehow, so what was… ah.

An undercurrent of pine. That was the new, sharp edge… but it blended perfectly with the other tones, and-

‘You seem rather enthusiastic, meliculum’ [little honey]

Beau startled at the amused voice echoing rather loudly by his ear, before realizing that he was the one who moved - right into the man’s space, at that, without even realizing it.

Despite knowing the world was his dreamscape, Beau felt his face heat up even more at his brazen forwardness. Before he could instinctively step back, however, cool arms wrapped themselves around him and pulled him closer, with one cool hand cradling the back of his head and the other trailing down to the small of his back.

‘I did not say I disliked it, dulcissime’ [most sweetest, male-oriented]

#mizuka last lines #mizuka's famous last words #my daily last lines #winter light excerpts #my excerpts #my writing #carlisle x beau #bellisle

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 2 years

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LAST ONE! (Unless anyone has any requests, but this is the last time I’ll ask for it. 🤣)

Masterlist for these drabbles here. Check out the original post/prompt list. And feel free to send me requests if there are any specific combinations/pairings you want to see.

Band + Carpenter + "Well? What happened? I want all the details!" + Bagginshield

Warning: Semi-spicy?? (Mentions to sexual acts)

Thorin liked working on houses. He really did. He enjoyed the process of putting up the frames and watching the home become more than just a concrete slab. He liked the burn in his muscles and the sweat on his back after a day of honest labor. However, that was discounting the current headache pounding between his ears that bid him return to bed. Preferably, the curly haired man’s bed he had woken in that morning.

“Coffee?” Dwalin offered with a smirk.

Thorin took it, barely managing a grunt of thanks in return. Dwalin, of course, being the friend that he was, used that as incentive to mock him.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine? You almost act like you’re hungover or something.”

“You already know the answer. Leave me alone.” Thorin groaned.

Dwalin laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Hell of a show though.”

Thorin smirked in agreement. Perhaps there was one thing Thorin enjoyed more than building, and that was singing in front of a few hundred drunken rockers. He hoped one day to increase his crowd size to a few hundred thousand. Still, the Arkenstone’s fans were loyal if nothing else, and Thorin couldn’t afford not to pay attention to their regulars. Part of how he became intimately familiar with his bed partner.

“Hell of an afterparty too.”

Dwalin and Thorin both turned to see Vili’s shit-eating grin. Thorin had to resist the urge to groan even when he knew his brother-in-law was far from done with giving him crap.

“I really don’t want to get into this.” Thorin begged.

“Into what?” Dwalin demanded.

“Well after you went home early, loser.” Vili teased. “Thorin finally manned up and talked to the little curly-haired punk who’s been trailing after him like a puppy since opening night.”

“WHAT? Well? What happened? I want all the details!”

“I’m not remotely ready to talk about this.” Thorin groaned. “Can we just get to work?”

Dwalin whistled, signaling to Thorin that they weren’t about to drop this any time soon.

“That good huh?”

“Or that bad?” Vili asked sympathetically.

Thorin threw his head back as he gathered up his dark locks into a bun on top of his head.

“I don’t…really remember.”

Dwalin and Vili both hissed, succeeding in making Thorin feel more like an ass. Honestly, he had been wanting to hit on Bilbo (he really hoped that was his name) since his first concert. His nerves just always got the better of him. Then after a few shots, he finally found his courage, only to take it too far in the wrong direction. He remembered being at the bar, his hand on the man’s leather studded thigh, and then flashes of moments. A hot, heated kiss in a hallway, shedding clothes as quickly as possible, a stretched but full feeling in his ass…actually he was still a little sore down there so he had some idea as to what happened. And then to top it off, he had to leave early this morning.

There was no chance Bilbo didn’t have the wrong idea, especially when Thorin left his number on a sticky note of his pillow. Too scared to say anything in the moment. He had no way to apologize later unless Bilbo got in touch with him first. A churning in his gut that he couldn’t completely blame on the stale alcohol reminded him that there was a chance that this was all Bilbo wanted. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time Thorin fell for a cute face thinking he finally found someone who wanted more from him than just sex. Thorin took a sip from his cup as he rubbed the skin around his eyes.

“Let’s just get this over with.” He complained.

“Now that’s the spirit.”

Thorin spun around so fast, he made himself a little dizzy. Dwalin and Vili stepped aside, each gauging the newcomer with various degrees of surprise and curiosity.

“Bilbo!” Thorin greeted, tripping over the name and praying he got it right.

The man smiled widely so Thorin felt he was on the right track.

“You left these at my place.” Bilbo announced, holding out his hand.

Thorin accepted his braid beads, marveling at how different the curly haired man looked. Gone was the eyeliner and piercings, minus the small hoop in his earlobe. And his tight tee and leather studded pants had been replaced with a button-down and khakis. Thorin wanted to ask him what his day job was, but thought that might be presumptuous. Still, Thorin couldn’t help but visualize a librarian or English teacher or something.

There were several things Thorin wanted to say upon having the man in front of him, but somehow the first thing he blurted was:

“How did you know where I was?”

“You mentioned it last night. Several times actually.” Bilbo answered with a raised eyebrow. “Kept warning me how you couldn’t stay up too late because you had an early morning.”

“You could have just texted.” Thorin murmured, his cheeks bright red now.

“Could have.” Bilbo shrugged. “But you also forgot this.”

Thorin vaguely noted Dwalin and Vili’s snickers as Bilbo surged on his toes to cup Thorin’s jaw, kissing him slowly and sweetly. A far cry from his memories, but somehow just as fulfilling. Far too quickly, the smaller man pulled away with a wide grin.

“I had fun. I think it would be more fun if you weren’t sloppy drunk.”

Thorin rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“It’s alright.” Bilbo returned before ducking his head shyly. “Truth be told I was rather flattered. I didn’t expect the sexy rocker I had been crushing on for months to need to get drunk just to have courage to talk to me.”

Thorin wanted to die. Just what didn’t he say last night.

“Can I see you again?” He blurted, his heart rate increasing but not finding it in himself to regret the question.

“Yeah.” Bilbo answered, his face rivaling the sun itself. “I was thinking dinner unless you have plans?”

“No, dinner sounds…great.”

“Good.” Bilbo nodded with the finality of closing a deal. “I’ll text you when I’m done for the day.”

Thorin saw him off with a wave before he turned around to see Dwalin and Vili’s cheeky grins.

“So…turns out it went really well.”

#modern au may #sunny's drabbles #bagginshield #rocker thorin #just a miniscule nod at my favorite band au Bookbinder//Songwriter

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guywrestlingaddiction · 1 year

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What turned me gay (not really) - Tarzan Fight Scenes

Continuing my exploration of impressionable "gay" moments, in this chapter I examine my fascination with another major contributor to my sexual journey. Again, this post is inspired by the sidelineland.com blog in the author's tongue and cheek look into "what made me gay (not really)". The blog holds up well with time and although this author no longer posts on a regular basis, it's still worth checking out today in my opinion. So without further delay, here is :

What turned me gay (not really) ...

Tarzan (Mike Henry / Miles o Keeffe)

Tarzan, specifically his fight scenes in film/shows turned me gay. And while I know this is cliché for me to crush on Tarzan; it is cliché for an obvious reason - Tarzan cemented my gay origin story. While I had an interest in guys before Tarzan, my obsession with this character truly cemented the idea in me that I was in fact gay. Life was different back in the 1990's / early 2000's, and admitting to yourself that you were gay was a huge step, essentially the equivalent of potentially cutting off all your friends and family. Don't get me wrong things were better than earlier periods however, you honestly never knew how some of those difficult conversations would go and I personally found myself dumped by all my high school friends after coming out.

But I digress and to put it simply, Tarzan was proof that girls didn't do it for me as I would go to long and difficult lengths just to catch a few minutes of a muscled, shirtless Tarzan fighting off some villain. I recall staying up past midnight waiting to record some old Tarzan movie on AMC or kicking myself later when I missed some appearance on TV.

Tarzan and the Lost City - Mike Henry It was all worth it to stay up until dawn and shift through the entire movie for just a few minutes of Tarzan looking hot and sweaty wrestling with a villain.

Another point I want to clarify is this post doesn't include just Tarzan but all of this "type" meaning a shirtless, muscled, tanned, and most importantly masculine protector in the jungle or otherwise "badlands" battling villains. In addition to Tarzan, I'd place Deathstalker, Gor, John Carter, the Beast Master, even George of the Jungle, in this genre.

George of the Jungle - Brandon FrazierIt was a confusing time to be a young boy and attracted to George. Admitting it was like telling someone you had a thing for a cartoon character.

Tarzan represented a pattern for me; I would get giddy when I saw a show of this type was airing, I would sit through hours of parts that were of no interest to me, just for a few minutes of payoff. I also need to mention that this guy is most likely the mold for my ideal type of guy today - hyper masculine but compassionate, tanned, tall, and strong enough to fuck someone up. Lastly, one thing that is hard to acknowledge but I need to for the sake of self-discovery, this "hero" was almost always a white guy and I do wonder what part this plays into my current tastes in guys. For example, how often am I attracted to a certain guy because he was imprinted on me in my youth as the masculine stallion to idolize?

Mike Henry as Tarzan Tall, masculine, and Hairy. A young me fantasizing about him gave me no doubt I was gay.

In any case, the sexy, nearly-naked Adonis left a deep mark on my subconscious and has repercussions on me to this very day. Watching a strong, masculine guy fight off the bad guy will forever be a small part of my origin story on what made me gay.

Selected Appearances [Not all shown]

Now the biggest question ... who is the hottest Tarzan? Without a doubt Mike Henry is the hottest Tarzan to me. Feel free to disagree but again this is just an opinion.

Hottest (Mike Henry)

Tarzan and the Valley of Gold - Mike Henry Hairy, Tall, shows lots of leg and plenty of fight scenes

Runners Up

Tarzan in Manhattan and a Television series - Joe Lara

Tarzan the Ape Man - Miles o Keeffe

Tarzan, the Ape Man - Denny Miller Hot, but too bad Tarzan was hairless back then

The Legend of Tarzan - Alexander Skarsgard I did try to like this movie, but one of the most appealing things about Tarzan is his legs and we don't see a lot with him

Tarzan and the Lost City - Casper Van Dien I also tried to like this iteration (after seeing him in Starship Troopers) but there was just something I couldn't enjoy about it.

Similar movies

George of the Jungle - Brandon Frazier

Gor - Urbano Barberini

John Carter - Taylor Kitsch

Deathstalker II - John Terlesky

For the original post, check out:

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ezra-iolite · 2 years

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Pirateformers AU: The Singer, the Doctor and the Warden

I've always wanted to try my hand at some pirate themed stuff, and after reading through some of @tigracespace's Pirateformer AU work, inspiration finally hit me through my writing block. 🤣

Tigrace's "evil trio" polyship really inspired this, so I hope you'll like this contender to their sneaky ways! But I promise, I'll get around to drawing them when I can, once I figure out how I want the human version of the "husbands" to appear in this awesome AU... But also because I'm just a better writer than I am an artist. 😭

For now, I'll do my best to make this as short as possible, since I know I have a bad habit of making REALLY long posts here. Hope you all enjoy this, and thank you @tigracespace for the amazing world you've created and one I hope to add to it with my land-pirating trio. Consider this trio the Team Rocket of the AU, the kind of annoying background presence who are just there to have some fun and wreck havoc. 🤣

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All newcomers to those visiting shoreline towns and cities, be they merchants, seafaring folk or the common visitor alike, are all given the same warning upon entering the civilized shoreline for the first time... Beware the Mutheru Trio, the pirates of the shore and docks.

The mother hen and somewhat the leader of the trio is Asya Mutheru, a well known showgirl/singer amongst the regulars of shoreline based taverns and pubs who only works during the drunken hours after dusk, although she is only known during these hours by her stage name, Swiftwire. During the day, however, she'll either be recovering from her prior show/hangover in the tavern she'll be working at, or out and about dressed as a high-class gentleman due to the city based prejudice against those of her gender identity, taking on the name Andres to continue her public disguise, all while grumbling to her chaperoning "work friends" about how exposed and uncomfortable she feels dressed as a man.

Travelling alongside her on her late mother's old and small sailing ship, the Alstroemeria, are the rest of the trio and her husbands... The brains of the team, the high-class, fashionable doctor and former mass murderer Knockout, and the muscle of the team, originally hired to protect them but now turned a free convict and lover of the two, Breakdown. Together, they form the Mutheru Trio, sailing the seas to look for their next place for "Swiftwire" to perform under her husband's protective watch, seeking their next thrill for adventure, and a place to settle down and start a family, to grant Asya's deepest wish of being a mother despite her gender-based predicament.

However, when one of her husbands finds a good target for loot while on land... This is when she can fully embrace her true self, the real Asya; the claw-gauntlet wielding, thrill-seeking, flirty and athletic thief of nobles, banks and docked ships alike. Dolled up in her most glamorous dress and bejeweled wire bands adorning her dreadlocks, she'll begin the siege by being the seductive distraction to allow Knockout to sneak by and clear a path to the loot, before she'll make the call to summon Breakdown and let him rain hell on those about to attack her, and together all three will attack with flintlocks and blades raised to make their way through the remaining numbers to their prize. Be it the heavily guarded carriage of a noble, the treasury of a bank, or even an unsuspecting docked ship, not even a pirate is safe from their thirst for adrenaline and riches. And even when they are forced to flee empty-handed, they always take to the rooftops or dive into the sea with their laughter filling the air, never disappointed by their loss as long as they make it out together to tell their tale.

And should their eyes fall upon a legendary ship of cursed creatures, their shared thirst for adventure will surely lead them down a path of locked blades, a worthy fight between two giants, a dual of claws and fangs, and possibly an understanding to end their lifelong fight for survival and rights.

#pirateformers au #tigracespace #ezra iolite og work #transformers

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musclemanveryregular · 2 years

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[ID: Muscle Man dressed as batman, it is raining and water is running down his suit. Behind him is mordecai who also has rain dripping off him. Muscle Man says, "this is where I watched my father die, Mordecai." and Mordecai replies, "Cowabummer!" /end ID]

#muscle man regular show #muscle man rs #mordecai rs #batman #dc #this is where i watched my parents die meme #death m #mordecai regular show #muscle mans regular original memes #muscle mans regular original posts #regular show

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guacamoleroll · 6 months

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— 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞.

from anonymous: hello, can i request dazai and fyodor hc's for an insecure s/o?

pairing(s): osamu dazai & fyodor dostoevsky (bungou stray dogs) x f!reader

content warnings: body insecurity, depression, minor partner neglect, protective characters, mentioned nudity, implied/referenced sexual content, social anxiety, panic attacks. implied/referenced murder

author's note: it's good to be back ٩(•͈ ꇴ •͈)و ̑̑❀

summary: these two demons comfort their insecure and anxious partner.

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

These two intelligent masterminds are often preoccupied with plans and schemes, building the world up as the other breaks it apart. However, throughout all their similarities and differences, there is one weakness to their routine stoicism and impassivity.

And that weakness was you.

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 ✧･ﾟ: ━

It had been a long day of slaving over papers at your desk within the confines of the Armed Detective Agency. You had practically been slumped over, hands aching from writing thousands of signatures on the lines of recent accident reports, your wrist slowly dragging until the letters were unrecognizable as a name.

It felt like you had transformed into the worst version of yourself — exhausted, agitated, depressed. And to make matters even worse, you hadn't had an interaction with Dazai that surpassed a handful of pleasantries for days. He had been plagued with missions for the past week, leaving him out beyond regular twilight hours, with his only remaining time used to catch up on sleep. You didn't blame him, though you were surprised to see him so dedicated, but you couldn't help but miss the simpler times when you would silently cuddle and revel in the affection of one another, tangled in each other's arms as you wished to be nowhere else. And with the loneliness came the insecurities.

"Oh, my dearest honey-pie!" Dazai called from across the office; the rest of your co-workers are already accustomed to his high-energy hijinks. He had returned after another mission, though it was luckily a much easier case than the previous.

You sighed, your smile not quite reaching your eyes as you glanced up from the text you had read a thousand times over, turning to the man leaping over like a bunny. But he stopped mid-hop, sliding over with a blank expression as he seemed to inwardly glitch.

"Osamu? Is something wrong?" you mumbled the question through drowsy lips, eyes barely able to concentrate as you felt on the verge of passing out. His eyes narrowed, those beautiful chocolate-brown irises scanning your face with a hum.

"Let's head home early today," he suggested, his large hand pressing against your back, swallowing his frown as he massaged the tense muscles. "Sound good, dear?"

He could immediately tell that something was bothering you, already linking it to his recent absences — he won't admit that he was quite flattered. However, his beloved feeling insecure and unsure of herself is an immediate no-no. And knowing him, he'd address it through a varied expression of pouts and his stern but gentle reassurances.

A part of him cannot believe that you're insecure — not because he doesn't understand the concept, because he logically knows most people will feel insecure once in their life. It's just that, out of the two of you, he feels that he doesn't deserve you and has to constantly remind himself that you chose him. But because he understands your feelings, he is amazing at identifying the origins of any specific insecurities — and pray for the health of anyone who tries to add to them. He was proclaimed the Demon Prodigy for a reason.

Are you insecure about your body? In complete honesty, Dazai believes that the stars were taken from your leftover pieces — someone created so beautifully that they needed to remove parts of you in order to humanize you. You were always a benevolent goddess in his eyes.

So watch you glare at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, eyes raking your nude form with utter hatred and disgust as you thumb at stretchmarks and pull at flesh with eyes like blades, daring to sever them off your body, twisted his heart in sorrow. How could you not possibly see how ethereal you were?

In those moments, he wanted to walk into the room, replace your hands with his own adoring ones, and show you the way to appreciate your body as he did. To make you cry in pleasure as he forced you to look at your own lovely expressions, to melt.

But he knows that isn't always what you need — that it isn't always the best idea to point out your insecurities in such a way. So, instead, he waits. In the dead of night, when you are snuggled in your shared bed under the moonlight, his warm, large hands run underneath your pajamas, leaving sleepy kisses across your sensitive skin as soft giggles were drawn out from your lips as he painted your shoulders, neck, thighs — anywhere he could reach.

"Oh, my sweet darlin'. Your radiance knows no bounds."

Do you have insecurities in social situations? He understands the origins of your anxiety — your world can be incredibly overwhelming — and he is very sympathetic. Whenever you're out together, he watches like a hawk for any possible triggers, checking in occasionally to make sure you're comfortable and calm.

His immediate reaction whenever you've become overwhelmed is to lead you out and away from the situation. Once he has picked up on your tense breathing and nervous expression, he responds accordingly and guides you somewhere to calm down. However, especially with an occupation like yours, that isn't possible. If he isn't able to get you out of the situation, he'll try to be physically near you in some way, resting a hand on your shoulder or back, bracing you in case your knees buckle.

If you still end up having a panic attack, he responds with uncanny and seemingly atypical seriousness, either ushering you away or eliminating the source of your anxiety before drawing you into his arms, acting like a human, weighted blanket as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears, rocking you back-and-forth as he encourages you to match his breathing.

After these attacks, he'd be glued to your side even more than he normally is. Most believe he is simply being obnoxious, but he is always closely looking at your expression and body language, ensuring that you don't dip into another panic.

"It's okay, honey. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

And are you insecure about your relationship itself? If he was honest with himself, he would know the exact reason you'd have insecurities within your relationship. He was never known as the most committed, straightforward, or bluntly loving person towards anyone. He is a flirt and a fool, and at the beginning of the relationship, that never changed when you got together.

However, once he realized the way his behavior made you withdraw into yourself — the sorrow in your eyes when he'd leave in the middle of the night, the way you bit your tongue whenever he flirted with another woman — he finally stopped and took a look in the mirror. You were the best thing that could've ever happened to him, and the fact that his own actions were causing you pain broke his heart. So, for the second time in his life, he changed for a person — for the better.

He stopped flirting with women almost altogether unless a mission required it, focusing each of his cheesy one-liners and proposals to you. But his actions aren't always that obvious. It can be shown through the simple glances he makes towards you throughout the day, engaging you in silly conversations, or holding your hand with his non-dominant one as he pretends to fill out paperwork, mind focused on the patterned taps of phrases in your palm.

And he makes sure, whenever he sees you start to withdraw again, he goes out of his way to take care of you the same way you always lovingly took care of him. Whether that's through going out on a date, staying in to watch movies, or partaking in steamy activities is up to you.

"I've heard that a new restaurant opened up nearby, beautiful. Wanna go?"

𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘 ✧･ﾟ: ━

You hadn't seen Fyodor the entire week.

He had been far too busy planning his next scheme, crammed in his office at his organization's headquarters, far underground in a place that you couldn't locate — he refused to let you be involved in his plans or with the people under his command. So, instead, you had been stuck within your menial routine, waking up to an empty bed, going to work at your exhausting job, and returning to your barren home.

You dropped your stuff unceremoniously onto the coffee table, slumping onto the couch with a groan as your face smushed into the cushions. Not an inch of your body was able to be moved, only turning to cover yourself with a blanket after a couple of minutes, willing yourself not to cry, allowing the soft fabric to swallow you whole. You couldn't even turn on the television despite your hatred for the silence, finding the only shows or movies featured couples relishing their time together, blissfully ignorant to all struggle or strife.

You were becoming a shell of your former self with each passing moment, burrowing further into your body as any happy emotion turned to melancholy, only wanting to hear his voice again. The house was too big for you to remain in alone, and you wouldn't be surprised if the echoes of it creaking onto its foundation made you slowly go mad.

You barely stirred as the front door clicked open, a brief question of whether you locked it coming to mind, but you couldn't find the will to care. Someone circled the room before they approached your body, nimble hands nudging the blanket to get a view of your face.

"Good evening, моя милая," he whispered, breaking the empty air as he traced the tense creases of your eyes.

You melted into his affections, practically nuzzling into his hand, but even those touches didn't seem to be enough to appease your troubled mind. He would only leave, allowing you to wallow in your own anxiety for another week or longer. The black-haired man frowned at your less-than-enthused reaction, twirling the strands of your tangled locks with eyes that you hoped you weren't misconstruing as concern.

"I'll make us some tea, hm?"

Just like Dazai, Fyodor was immediately able to tell that something was wrong the moment he walked through the door. But unlike Dazai, he remains observant, not immediately jumping to comfort and cradle you without analyzing the origins and best possible solution to your current insecurities. And if the source of your insecurities came from someone in particular, he would be quick to eliminate them with uncharacteristic impatience and swiftness.

Because out of all the people on this planet, his perfect other half is not allowed to feel anything but uncontrollably adored.

To him, you are incandescent and divine, above everyone else. So, the fact you have insecurities based on such small, seemingly inconsequential flaws bewilders him. He can be harsh and blunt in his statements, but it's only because he sees you so highly. You are his equal in every way possible.

Are you insecure about your body? Fyodor has a fondness for beauty; it is no secret. He stares upon magnificent pieces of art and illustrative manuscripts of writing with fondness, but it never compares to the way he gazes upon your face. You are the most enchanting woman he has ever laid his eyes upon, even throughout his lengthy travels across the continent — and the notion that you think otherwise disturbs him.

You seem to be so utterly unaware of your own natural allure, too caught up in the smallest components of your appearance to understand that, as a whole, you were a masterpiece unrivaled by all. Too busy prying yourself apart, oblivious to the radiance that followed in your every step.

You are the all-encompassing vision of natural appeal and charm, a sight he partially wished could be replicated across the ends of the earth. But he understands the reason that is impossible. You were born to be swathed in adoration, intimately by him alone, even if he was too proud to admit it. He always became soft-hearted to your lovely smile, such a simplistic expression that stirred his heart in ways never before seen.

He would initially remedy these insecurities through his gifts to you, luxurious silks and soft velvets sewn into clothes that perfectly draped over your figure. Simple accessories that only complement your features.

And his touches would begin to linger, especially surrounding the parts of yourself that you are most insecure about. Sometimes, he waits until you're almost asleep, eyes hazy with lethargy, and he traces your beauty marks and freckles — anything that you perceive as a flaw, caressed with meticulous adoration and devotion.

"Прекрасный, любимая моя. Прекрасный."

Do you have social insecurities? Fyodor would study the roots of your social anxiety, watching every reaction you'd have towards people or noises when you two would be together in public, feeling the way you hold his arm tight like a vice, brows furrowed as you attempted to withhold your panic.

He knows certain elements of situations can be worrisome and cause your pretty mind to overthink, often fearful for the safety of yourself or others. Perhaps it was another trait that drew him towards you; such a human trait it is, that unwavering compassion. And he couldn't help but find it somewhat cute the way you clung onto him, though that's a hint of his pride talking. You are completely capable of defending and protecting yourself, but he doesn't think you should have to do it alone.

He responds to any panic accordingly, although not necessarily by straight-up calming you. With his intelligence and ability to pinpoint your fears, he can quell them with facts, although if he can tell logic won't work, he'll resort to calming you with discrete, simple whispers and light touches, leading you out of the situation as a final fallback.

However, if someone is threatening your safety, he can quickly take care of them through his wit (and a bit of his ability). The audacity someone has to even attempt to bring harm to your happiness and person makes his blood boil. But the fact that they're idiotic to mess with someone under his protection is almost laughable, and they'll soon learn the consequences of their transgressions.

"Don't worry about that scum, любимая. I'll take care of them."

And the basis of any of your insecurities surrounding your relationship itself, he realizes, to his utter dismay, is probably due to his air of outward coldness and apathy. You are his complementary match, understanding his exact thoughts from the smallest changes in his demeanor, drawing out the tiniest trickles of his affections from seemingly minuscule actions. But sometimes that isn't enough — understanding does not equal comprehension.

Certain assumptions through the lens of your own inadequacies, however tiny they may be, shift your view on position and importance in his life. And he will have absolutely none of that.

Fyodor is rarely so straightforward with his love, even in the moments when you are both completely alone — and that doesn't initially change much. However, he is ever-so-slightly more obvious — blunter with his words, letting his touches linger, scheduling his time with you.

And he purposefully leaves clues of his love in plain sight, inconspicuous letters left partially peeking out of drawers, Cyrillic letters drawn across the paper in intricate swoops, waiting for you to translate their true meaning. Of course, you'll have to work for it, but isn't the result all the more sweeter. He may be too prideful to admit it to your face, besides in the hours where you can barely comprehend thought, but he is and always will be completely enamored and devoted to you.

"Ты просматриваешь мои письма, любимая моя? Какой у тебя блестящий ум."

𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗔𝗡 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗦𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 —

моя милая = my dear прекрасный, любимая моя. прекрасный. = beautiful, my darling. beautiful. любимая = darling ты просматриваешь мои письма, любимая моя? какой у тебя блестящий ум. = are you looking through my letters, my love? what a brilliant mind you have.

taglist: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @aquigglewigglewoo @kotysluny

#muse's anthology ‧��˚ ⋅#MDNI .ᐟ #from: anon .ᐟ #f!reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #dazai bsd

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axl-ul · 10 months

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The Flight of the Western Crane: Chapter Two

(A reupload/repost of my fic/dark retellingof Journey tot he West because the whole AO3 site, where I originally posted this, got taken down for now)

(General info about this fic/wip/retelling is here)

****

Another day and night passed during which they were vainly searching for a settlement. The situation repeated the second day, as well. Seemingly silent pines watched pilgrims while the monkey jumped from one branch to another. However, every now and then he was forced to stop. He pouted many times that day when he heard Pigsy's comments about never-ending hills and cliffs. His bare foot was tapping furiously. Surprisingly, Wukong managed to keep himself shut. He knew better than that. Considering his patience was wearing thin he decided to wait for Bajie's slip up. The pig is always dancing on thin ice. Just to let the Master finally see- The wind. The smell.

It's back.

Wukong turned on his heel, his nose upwards with widened nostrils. His posture was reminiscent of a hound. The scent made the hair on the back of his head stand up. Though, the aroma was weak, the longer he sniffed the more it confirmed his suspicion. A demon.

Not just any. The creature had to be strong if it could mask its presence so skilfully. In any other case Wukong's fur would be bristling without the need to sniff. The so-familiar shivers down his spine would accompany it on every occasion. But now all the simian's body reacted to was the scent.

Sharp. Acidic. Iron-like.

Another sniff. Yes, iron. Blood. Dirt. Sweat. Wet fur. Flowers. Flowers? Yes, magnolia. It was subtle, delicate and sweet. Nearly intoxicating. Heady. One might willingly let themselves lose in such inviting gentleness. A welcoming pillow for those who need a rest. A place to soothe their hectic mind.

Wukong found himself closing his eyes. The tail wiggled slower. Face muscles relaxed significantly. Sage's otherwise impish features were now nearly handsome. Briskly, Monkey King opened them and shouted, "Shifu, we should turn back. It's not safe here either."

"Wukong. We've been going the same route for almost two days. If not more."

"I know. But there's a demon ahead." Great Sage climbed down, landing himself by Bai Long Ma with Sanzang up on his back. "If we're supposed to get the scriptures it'll be for the best to keep you safe, Shifu. Besides, you often insist on taking the side paths through the wilderness where it’s easy to lose the track."

Another disagreement erupted. It wasn't as bad as their usual exchanges. Surprisingly, even a mouse made more noise than them. But the two smells were driving Wukong insane. The fact he was unsure which of those two was more unnerving made his blood boil.

Monkey King bared sharp teeth. He prepared the clawed hand. It was a mere matter of time till he strikes. Yet, he didn't know who should be the target. Master? No, never. Wujing? The poor man is already crouching in the corner. Bai Long Ma? If he reminds him of Bimawen's duties then maybe. Idiot? Yes. Wukong found the perfect target.

Sanzang quickly sensed his disciple's intention, "Wukong, don't! Please. Breathe deeply. Aaaand exhale..." His hand followed the direction of regular inhales and exhales. "Control your emotions."

The furred pilgrim let himself be persuaded and repeated after the handsome monk.

"Alright, Shifu. I'm going for a little scout. Hey, you over there. Come here, brothers." A golden glow appeared around his ear. Seemingly out of blue, there was a pole in his hand. When the group came closer the monkey circled them and headed in the direction of a disruptor.

Sanzang's concerned look accompanied Wukong's steps until he vanished in the bushes completely. He averted fearful gaze when Bajie placed his fat hand on the light robe.

There was a slight but honest comfort in it.

****

Wukong's hands brushed away another low-hanging branch. Little by little, leaves of a willow uncovered bruised knuckles.

The simian body repeatedly picked up the trail and almost immediately lost it. Once he even found himself at a crossroad. Wukong couldn't wrap his head around it. That nose-pricking stench dragged him towards the east. On the western side of the path, the magnolia was getting stronger.

Was it two demons or just one toying with him? Wukong pouted. He knew he was running out of time. If he has to decide which way to go, he must do it now.

While the naughty wind played with the monkey's tunic, the Great Sage stepped into the direction where the sun set down. His snout twisted as he tightened the red waist sash. Sparrows and deer closely watched Monkey King's energetic walk. Wukong didn't mind them in the slightest. It was the wilderness, after all. He himself was rarely different in this regard - scouring his surroundings till he remembered every detail. Even now, when his mind was occupied by different sorts of matters his nature stayed true to itself. Brown eyes adjusted to dark shadows. Pointy ears attempted to help out keen eyesight and sensitive nose at any occasion.

A wave of tingling sensation ran down his spine to the tip of his long tail. He was close. He knew it. The demon was within arm's reach. Then, an idea crossed his mind. "The demon wants to trick me. Two different scents. Two directions. Why not add a new player, too?" A sly smile made its way to his face. Passing by another pine the Immortal made sure his fingers were faster than ever before. Freshly plucked hair vanished among treetops when he blew into it. His own form shivered slightly. However, he continued in his little charade as if nothing had happened. Bare feet landed with a massive slap on a giant flat stone buried by half in the ground. He stood tall with his head high and chest pridefully stuck out. Yet, low hanging corners of thin lips showed a little more than boredom.

Monkey King yawned and put a hand on his hip. His second hand shot up to the face. There was a straw in it. He took it between teeth and checked his nails. In between those small actions, he listened vigilantly. Rustling of leaves and branches from two directions. Only one of them didn't carry the familiar rhythm.

"So, on vacation? Or you're just hungry?" Tiny flames appeared in Wukong's pupils. He shifted and turned his gaze upwards - right into the hollow trunk stuck between two gigantic rocks. "No need to be shy, demon. I'll be gentle."

He struck. As fast as lightning, he drove his fist through the thick wood. It split into two halves. Splinters flew across the air hitting everything that was in their way. Wukong almost cried out in victory until he noticed what was truly hiding inside the dead tree. A silk veil landed gracefully into the mud below. "Nothing?!"

His confusion was soon confirmed by a smooth voice coming from above, "Exactly."

The person jumped down. They landed with full might on Wukong's shoulders. His legs gave up. Both silhouettes fell down on the wet ground. Unfortunately for the monkey, the impact was too strong. White flashed in front of his eyes as he hit his head. Then, the worst happened. Something cold tightened around his neck. Two small fiery ambers nearly fell out of the skull. When he thought it was over the person struck again. Wukong felt how a sharp object pierced through his ribs. Blood quickly filled his lungs. Immediately, he started gasping. Desperately, the disciple struggled for breath. He was twitching, his last attempts to get away.

"I wasn't being shy, imbecile. Only too smart for your liking," the covered person let out a dangerous hiss. Although Wukong's vision was heavily blurred at this point, he managed to notice a glimpse of trite leather and a hand high above the attacker's hood. If they're strangling him with one hand that means their other arm must be occupied with the dagger handle. Perfect.

To their surprise, Wukong cocked an eyebrow, "Or just smugger than me." One snap of fingers and the body on the ground quickly dissolved. Only evidence of its existence, which still remained, was thick brown hair. It tangled into the stranger's embroidered yet somewhat tattered robes.

"Huh?!" the stranger averted their gaze. Confused eyes were delving through a small visor of a grey hood. However, their search was immediately stopped by a warrior cry.

Mimicking the previous move, the real Sun Wukong flew down on the stranger while pulling his magical power pole out of ear. His blow landed on his opponent. They didn't stand a chance. It was too powerful to withstand and so the blade slipped from their injured hand.

To Wukong's displeasure, it didn't stop the attacker who repositioned and prepared the right hand. In one slick motion the whip cut the air in half. If it hadn't been for Sage's natural agility, he would have been forced to wait for several weeks to regenerate a good portion of his head and his whole left ear. His eyes narrowed; teeth bared. Burning rage radiated from his scrawny stature. However, staying true to his ever-changing temper, monkey's disgust soon replaced a mischievous smirk.

"You could have just asked if you wanted to dance. I've been looking for a chance to stretch out a muscle or two." Wukong put the power pole over his broad shoulders, tail circling his waist as a second layer of clothing. Suddenly, he put a hand over brows, shielding the rest below. For a second, it appeared the cloaked one had crystals instead of eyes. Furthermore, different shades couldn’t ever be found on one’s face. He couldn’t deny, these strange circumstances deepened Monkey King’s curiosity. "What kind of demonic thief are you? Did you steal those gemstones from a human ruler? Or you invited yourself into Heavenly Palace?" He leapt from the place where he’d been standing. His abrupt cutting of words sent a wave of shock down his opponent’s spine just as the impressiveness of the nine feet long jump.

Blocking at the last moment, their slim figure was pushed backwards mercilessly – a trail of dug up soil was left behind. They pirouetted and inflicted a solid punch. A slash of sharp nails followed sooner than expected. The hooded stranger made use of their proximity – they grabbed monkey man’s head and kicked with their knee. A spray of red liquid coloured the nearby stones as well as Great Sage’s now split lip. However, Wukong didn’t hesitate either.

He quickly threw a counterattack. Another blow. A kick. The distance between them opened once more. The leather snapped and the weapon’s tip jabbed like a scorpion’s tail. But Sun Wukong’s expression remained barely impressed. Only his left arm rose.

His staff got entangled with the old whip. Never stopping his progress, Great Sage used it to his advantage. Twisting its whole length, the demon warlord tugged the cudgel. Ruyi Jingu Bang shone with gold in the gloom. Whirlwinds danced when the staff landed on the ground. Soon, a perceptibly bigger cloud formed when the Monkey King landed by his weapon of choice. The stranger underneath twisted like a snake. Fabric interwoven with silver threads tore apart with a loud crack. The absence of a soft sleeve allowed a palm to escape the grasp. In a matter of a mere second, it collided with Wukong’s cheekbone. The skin coloured in bright red. A clear handprint marked the left side of the monkey's face. The burning pain caused the faintly scarred eye water. The warrior gnashed his fangs. It didn’t take much effort to suppress the reflex so no tear would roll down. What it, however, would have required was self-control. Alas, the former Bimawen had never possessed much.

With a sharp breath and fire spreading through his veins the hairy head snapped forward. He, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, would never allow such audacity, not even in a dream. A slight bend backwards was more than enough for an upcoming move. In a blink of an eye, the low forehead connected with the bridge of a nose.

Something snapped. At the same time, the hooded head hit the ground so hard it made their ears ring. Babbling slipped with mild curses clearly directed at Wukong. Although, he didn’t pay attention to them at all. Meanwhile the person fell into a significantly more serene state. Monkey man smelt how lulling scent mixed with sweat and blood under the cover. Looking sideways he traced the exposed limb. It was long, smooth and soft to touch. Well-tended nails crowned long delicate fingers. No calluses whatsoever. Brown eyes climbed higher and higher when they got lost in two magnificent blue gemstones. Both casted looks created a fascinating scenery. Not one of them made a single move. Wukong sat there still pinning down his attacker. But his plans were starting to drown in the dark sea while the rest flew high above clouds. No, he mustn’t fall victim to cheap tricks like this. What does it matter that he sees such magnificent eyes? He has to come back to senses.

He shook his head. All set pieces were perfectly falling into the mysterious mosaic. A demon it was for sure - he still felt the lingering tingling from time to time, though it grew weaker. Yet, he was lost to answer who or what exactly was lying there. He felt the pressure rising and so he made the ultimate decision.

Wukong let the arm go and targeted the head cowl. As soon as he did so, the last attempt to repay such kindness was made. The person gathered the last bits of strength and pushed forward. They won’t succumb easily. If they’re going down, so is everyone else.

The Great Sage had equally enough. He couldn’t stand any more of this foolishness. He briskly grabbed the staff by his side and forced it upon the demon’s chest. The sudden weight of the weapon pulled them down. They struggled but to no avail. The weapon, though being barely thicker than a bamboo stick, crushed the chest.

Finally, muscular arms were free to go. He wiped the injured mouth with a confident smirk. A bloodied spit landed right next to his victim’s head. They growled. He yanked the cowl.

Wukong’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped.

Those two magnificent eyes belonged to an even more unearthly face. The woman’s features were so eternally soft not even the swollen nose or red stripes streaming by her faintly powdered cheek down to the chin disrupted them. Wukong has never been one to admire someone’s looks. But he couldn’t help himself. He was amazed by the sheer perfection of her milky skin. Her lips caught his attention, as well. They were delicately carved and painted cherry red. All in all, she looked fatigued. On the other hand, there was a strange aura around her. The tranquil air of a person with no regrets. The calmness in her face had an unexpected impact on him. He felt downright infected by it. Wukong noticed his breath adjusted to her own tempo. Another strange detail piqued his interest. A humble jewelled hairpin interweaved with strands of hair as yellow as wheat bathing in the summer’s smiling sun.

“What in the hell are you…?“ he leaned closer, his husky voice merely a whisper.

The urge to check on his surroundings made him sniff again and…there it was. The sweet magnolia hugged him tightly. So gentle, so soothing. He wanted more. He needed more. Now. And tomorrow. And the day after. His stone heart craved to smell it for the rest of his life. His consciousness was spiralling into deep slumber as the simian torso fell down. Only the thin veil of wind separated the small nose from the swan neck. Hot breath swirled the thick fur on the Monkey’s head. It delightfully tickled his ear.

The woman soon added,“Certainly someone better-looking than you, imp. Now, get away from my face. You stink terribly.“

Although those words were full of poison the voice, not anymore muffled by the woollen cloth, carried a lovely melody. At first, the disciple was electrocuted by it. Thinking further about the remark, the truth couldn’t be denied - his fur, his dark pants, yellow-red tunic with undershirt, all of it hadn’t been properly washed in days. It filled the surroundings with a salty stench. No wonder the woman tried to hold her breath for a brief moment. Naturally, Wukong’s pride felt threatened.

The Monkey King’s tail shivered as he swiftly straightened his back. “Speak up, demon. I didn't understand much. Can’t hear you over the make-up.“

Gathering the last strength fair brows furrowed and the woman hissed like a cat,“Coming from an ape with overdone eyeliner. Besides, you didn’t complain the first time, did you?“

“Those are face markings!“ he shouted and slammed both palms against the golden cudgel,“And what are you talking about, wretched shrew? What ‘first time’, huh?“

“Don’t play dumb. Oh sorry, that’s the only thing you can do with that fried brain.“

“Now listen up. Answer the question. And I’ll make sure...“

“...you’ll make sure about what, exactly?“

“That I won’t resort to violence.“

“Brutish imbecile! You’ve already broken my nose!“ If she were able to move hands she’d certainly be rubbing her swollen bridge by now.

“I can still knock out some teeth while I’ll be knocking some sense into you, what do you reckon? Pretty good deal, right?“

“Try it. I dare you. And when you do, I swear,“ her voice lowered into a dangerous dog-like growl, “I’ll make a fine coat out of your miserable hide. I’ll pluck your eyes out. I’ll make a chalice out of your pint-sized skull, you hairy midget. I’ll make you suffer. You won’t survive the plague you’re making me bring upon you, did you hear me?“

“Pff, yeah, I’d like to see that, Miss Wheat-head.“ Wukong rolled his eyes and stretched out his right to pluck a straw of tall grass surrounding them.

“You’re saying I’m smugger than you. Just peek into the mirror.“

“Answer me already, stupid goose. Who and what are you? Who sent you? Why?“ he glared, lowering his voice into a dangerous silent growl.

A spit crashed between his eyes. In the rush of her anger, the foreigner’s strange accent slipped from her tongue as she growled,“Yama. To send you back to him.“

The monkey tail slammed the soil. A web of cracks emerged and marked the place. The trickster pushed against the cudgel. The might radiating from Wukong’s nearly scrawny body frame crushed the attacker’s chest. She let out a painful howl. Unlike the combat zeal refusing to let go, the air in her lungs decided otherwise.

Ribs crumbled under the pressure. Tissue was squeezed altogether until she was unable to gasp anymore. The soil underneath was being pushed away which created a hole in the grass and rocky dirt.

It doesn’t matter, though. As long as the demon is occupied with her…

“No, please. Stop it! I beg you!“ a fragile voice called out from behind. Wukong’s eyebrows rose up. His head snapped with a loud huff. The plea in the young voice made his squeeze loosen though he never let go of the foreigner.

Behind him, a young woman limped forward to the couple. Her petite frame was too covered in a hanfu. What used to be a long time ago a fancy artwork of skilful tailors with fine shades of green, blue and gold was turned into a muddy, ravaged fabric. Wind blew few strands of long black hair into the girl’s face, the rest of it was tied up and decorated with a jewelled headpiece. Ruby tears shone in crimson light when the weak sunlight touched them. Shadows casted by tall pines created even more hopeless look on her worried features.

At last, the attacker caught some air. Not wasting more time she cried in a broken voice, “Get out!“

“No, Márgerdra,“ determination rang out of her and the younger noblewoman made her way closer. She seemed to be equally strong-willed as the foreigner. However, in contrast, she chose a much more humble approach. Not that the intention wasn’t honest.

The girl was so close that Wukong needed to stretch out an arm to touch her. She fell on knees in front of him and cried, “Please. Let her go. She was only protecting me. There was some rustling and she didn’t want to risk anything. I swear. If you release her I’ll do anything.“ Silent tears fell down her soft cheeks. Her voice was quiet, frail. She raised her slim hands and tucked them to a pleading gesture.

“Anything?“ A suspicion creeped into the Monkey King’s mind.

“Yes, anything, my Lord.“

“Prin…“ the foreigner failed to finish her sentence. The noblewoman cut her off abruptly.

“You may take me as your bride if you will.“

The straw fell out of Wukong’s mouth. If he weren’t aware of the weight of the situation he’d burst into laughter.

“My…bride?“

“Yes. I’m the Princess of the Great Tiger Kingdom from the southern territories. I cannot promise you many riches but…“

“Hey, hey, hey. Stop right there, girl.“ Wukong rolled his eyes once more and waved both his hands. The Princess seemed to be fazed by such an approach - she shot up her gaze up to him so quickly that hanging jewells clanged. Weak sunlight which got through the thick sea of leaves and needles shone on her wet cheeks.

“First, you’re ridiculous. Look, I know I can be devilishly handsome but even this pretty face down here,“ he motioned towards the attacker, “didn’t have problems calling me names. Second, you could already answer me. Who are you, what are you doing here, where are you going and why did this hag attack me.“

“If I tell you, my Lord, will you free her? She won’t strike again, you have my word.“

Disgusted Wukong looked down, then back to the young girl. Distrust plopped against his innards. “Deal.“

The older woman was visibly angered and prepared to unleash another round of name-calling. The Princess of the Great Tiger Kingdom had different plans. The right hand rose with a stretched palm. The signal everyone should keep to themselves as she has the word here. She stood up and her subordinate didn’t have another option but to conform.

“As I’ve already mentioned, I am the Princess Mei of the Great Tiger Kingdom who is on her travels to meet her groom Prince Guanting in the neighbouring Country of the Brocade Lantern. The noblewoman who you managed to overpower is the royal advisor and my personal protector Márgerdra, the Lady Wolf Witch of Three Northern Tribes. Unfortunately, fate decided otherwise. The carriage in which we were travelling was destroyed as the cliff collapsed, leaving us cut off from the royal guard…“

“...and a horse which was hitched to it. A stallion. No more than four years old. Probably a dark chestnut.“

Princess Mei’s jaw dropped,“Yes. Gang. How do you know?“

“I saw the destroyed carriage. There was a blood trail nearby. Let me tell you something. Before your advisor picks up another fight, okay?“ he smirked down on Márgerdra. “My nose is pretty good at picking up smells. That’s how I can identify such details. Not only animals. Humans and demons count in, too.“ With the latter term spoken he eyed the lying woman warily.

“Plus,“ he continued, slowly shifting his weight just to tease Márgerdra who gritted her teeth in pain as the movement crushed her, “I’ve lived through my fair share of experience. A member of a royal family would choose a persistent creature for a journey through mountains. The closest local breed to that are Yunnan horses. Those are usually black or chestnut. Also, since you mentioned your family is running out of riches you can’t afford to be too picky. Back to my nose, though. I can tell many animals apart precisely. Lastly, while there was a blood trail the body was nowhere to be found. Yes, you have bears, wolves and so on. But I doubt any of those would waste their time and strength to drag away a random carcass. Most of the time, when they feed they leave bones behind. So, only one option remains. It was the work of a demon.“

A wave of dread washed over Mei’s face. On the other hand, Márgerdra’s nose wrinkled. Alas, her worst suspicion came to life, after all. Another demon in the area could easily harm the Princess. The decision ahead of her was anywhere near being pleasant. Although, she had to admit the benefits were tempting. After all, she went through much worse in life. Few days with a moronic monkey deviant surely wouldn't be that bad.

Before she had the chance to speak up the Monkey King quickly stated,“Now, we’re even. You told me who you are. In return, I warned you about the demonic presence. Before I leave you to your fate, I want one more thing. You see, my information is kinda costly…“

“My Lord, please, could you finally let go of my protector? I fear for her well-being.“

“And I fear for mine.“

“You promised to free her. Look at her, please. She struggles to even take a breath, my Lord,“ Mei’s dark eyes watered.

“Don’t try crying. That cheap trick never works,“ he thought to himself but chose not to reveal his thoughts. “Then why did she strike first?“

“Márgerdra never acts without a reason…“

“She strangled me and stabbed me in the ribs.“

The Wolf Witch intervened, “It was just a clone.“

“You hoped for a different result.“

“Imbecile, look at her. She’s hurt. Hurt! If you think I would leave her just like that with literal beasts around then you’re dead wrong,“ Márgerdra ignored her mistress’ worried look and shouted.

“Please, my Lord…“ Mei sobbed while two rivals spiralled down to another dispute.

Flowers seemed to wither away in the presence of such hostility. Three figures were getting lost in the heated conflict. The sudden change of weather didn’t help either. Clouds repeatedly covered the sun and embraced the hills with inky shadows. Animals rather ran away in order to find themselves a shelter. Fine breeze slowly turned into bothering tongues with sharp tips. They ruffled trees and bushes among which big ears listened to the quarrel. Instead of leaving them alone the fourth guest loudly came forth which worsened the situation, “Brother! There you are! Master’s been so worried he sent me to find you. Where have you been all this…oh, my…“ Bajie cut himself off when he noticed the crying noblewoman. Only a single sight on her porcelain skin was needed and a drool streamed down his chin. Bajie wiped it away swiftly. Aware of his looks and his general behaviour towards women, he noticeably softened his tone and pretended to cover his monstrous face, “Oh, Brother, what a lovely creature you found here in such cruel wilderness. Please pardon me. I suffer from a condition that deeply affects my looks…“

Upon seeing the pig snout and hearing the demon’s giggle mix with grunts, Mei screamed in horror. She pushed herself as far away as her injured leg let her. Meanwhile the first apprentice wasn’t mostly easy on the eyes, she was willing to hold herself together for the witch’s sake. When Pigsy arrived at the scene her poor gentle heart could do little more than jump to the throat from dread.

“Oh, c’mon. Why do they have to scream all the time,“ Zhu Bajie lamentably grabbed his head.

“Idiot! Because you’re a lustful pig! That’s why.“ Sun Wukong let the built up rage inside him erupt and shouted.

The Wolf Witch took advantage of the monkey’s distraction, threw him off of her and ran to Mei. She shielded her with her slender body, the whip finally in her hand fully prepared to inflict a fatal wound. “Who’s that, imbecile?“

“Better put that down before you hurt yourself, witch.“ Wukong didn’t think twice about facing his opponent, he simply ignored the threat.

Pigsy, on the other hand, blushed and widened his eyes with sheer admiration. The drooling was back and stronger than ever before. He let out a silent sigh, “Oh, Brother, where did you find a literal goddess?“

“Bajie, she’s still wet behind ears and what’s more she’s engaged.“

“I don’t mean her…“

Wukong pouted, “No. Don’t even think about it. Or I’m gonna smack you with the cudgel.“

“Brother, look at those legs! That milky skin. She doesn’t look at all like any woman we’ve ever seen. Look at those beautiful, squishy brea…“

“I can hear you, pervert.“ Márgedra casted a sinister look at Bajie. The pig demon’s smile froze. His head hung low between his trembling shoulders. A loud gulp echoed from his dried-up throat.

Seeing how quickly Márgerdra humbled his junior disciple, Wukong leaned over his staff and crossed one leg in front of the other. “If you want to hit him I can turn around.“

The advisor suppressed the urge to smirk. Strangely, his remark somehow amused her.

The witch looked at Mei over her shoulder. Her lips trembled against the dark fabric as the princess peeked out from behind the skirt. Her hands were filthy from dirt but the witch made no remark. Instead, she protectively placed a hand on her forehead. “Fine. Because you refuse to cooperate I apparently must answer my very own question.“

“Go ahead, wheat-head.“

“You two don’t look at all like a family therefore I assume the term ‘Brother’ comes from a formed alliance. Or well, a bond that is nowadays mostly formed either among warlords or those who enter a monastic order. The latter would perfectly explain the poor state of your clothes, too. Not to mention you're basically skin and bones…except for the pig. Also, you abruptly refused my Princess’ offer and scolded your ‘Brother’ for being…inappropriate towards us. By the way, nice headdress. It must be hard to hold onto this rich possession yet you never get to satisfy your hunger.“

“What are you aiming at, witch?“

“Your golden headband has to be really special. Otherwise, I have no doubts it would have been sold a long time ago. Except for a crucial condition. No-one leaves their close ones or themselves starve. Especially when they possess a fine gold headband,“ the witch narrowed her eyes.

The eldest disciple stuck out his chin,“You’re a quick learner. But how can you be so sure?“

“If I were in your shoes I wouldn’t do it,“ she proclaimed. Wukong noticed something strange behind her graceful manners and diplomatic composure. The monkey demon, armed with at least eight centuries of life, saw the little twitch on the corner of her lips. He chose not to push her further. Monkey King saw the young princess needed some care which only her protector could provide. She didn’t fail to fulfil the duty. Arms in blue sleeves soothed the weak shoulders of the girl when she knelt beside her. Silent whispers tingled the air around them. After several heartbeats, both women stood up.

The foreigner rolled her big eyes, “Pi…Darling sir, could you be so helpful and accompany us? You’d have both mine and my Mistress’ everlasting gratitude.“ Light steps made their way through the soft grass to the bewitched pig demon. Her index finger foxily caressed Bajie’s cheek, then slid down to his chin and throat. The slight purr which escaped her lips made Pigsy’s heart miss a beat. Per usual, he started beaming thoughtlessly.

“Bajie, did I hear your name right?“

“Yes, hehe. Yes, you did.“ Drool flooded down when he opened his mouth.

“What would you say? Your Brother is quite a brute. Why don’t you help us back to somewhere more…civilised?“

“My Lady, I’m afraid I can't be of any help. Not that I don't want to. Our group is simply stranded." Bajie sobered up the second he noticed Sage’s burning gaze. A pretty woman is a pretty woman. But his life and unbruised hide are more precious than the foreigner’s long lashes.

“Your group? Are there more of you?"

Silence.

"Come on, darling sir. You’re a monk. Shouldn't you help those in need? Just look at us. We, two fragile creatures, lost, helpless,“ the advisor highlighted each word with guilt. Her eyes, heavily hooded under lashes, fell onto the ground while her right hand clutched onto the heart.

“No way we’re going to have a common journey, woman. Just spit out where the town is. And you, Bajie, if you say one more word I swear you'll finish the rest of the journey carrying our luggage,“ Wukong growled into Pigsy's left ear.

"Oh, darling sir, why would you listen to that ape-man, huh? Look at the Princess. She's no more than twenty summers old. Help us. Tell me," she grabbed him by the other ear,“ you'll take us to your group and protect us until we find a place safe enough. Pretty please."

"Bajie, think of our cause. That witch is filthier than the farmer's stable."

Márgerdra raised her head,"What did you say?"

"Mind your business," Wukong cut her off, “ The ‘advisor’ is a wheat-headed shrew. Be reasonable. Our journey is long. If we take them with us they’ll slow us down. Slowing us down means trouble, Brother.“

“Now you’re calling me ‘Brother’, Wukong?!“ Bajie whimpered loudly over his ears being dragged to two opposite directions. Oh, how much he wished for the pain to stop.

“Bajie, don’t listen to him. Think of us!“

“Bajie! Is she your Senior or me?“

“Stop looking at him!“

“That wheat-head’s manipulating you!“

“Bajie!“ the two of them yanked both Pigsy’s ears simultaneously.

Poor Pigsy threw his hands with a loud roar finally freeing himself from the wrathful grasp of two rivals, the unexpected outburst pushed fighters apart. He was fed up with the witch’s slyness, Wukong’s temper and, at last, his very own defenselessness. His lungs burnt as he yelled at them so loudly it frightened sparrows from the nearby bush. Rage escaped from his nostril in wild fumes. Tusks protruded and feet dug into the soil in an intimidating manner. “Both of you shut up! I’ve had enough of this humiliation. Those women are coming with us. No ‘but’, Wukong. Our Shifu helps people and so should we. That’s what you’ve been teaching me and Ol’ Sha, too. The girl is crying her eyes out, isn’t she?“ he angrily turned to Márgerdra, “And you better watch your tongue. I am Zhu Bajie, named Wuneng by our venerable Shifu Tang Sanzang, the Emperor’s brother, who was charged to retrieve holy sutras from the western lands. I used to be the Marshal Canopy, the commander-in-chief of eighty thousand Celestial sailors! My younger Brothers are Sha Wujing, the former Curtain-Lifting General, and Bai Long Ma, the third prince of Dragon King of the West Sea named Ao Lie. And my Big Brother here is none other than the Handsome Monkey King of the Waterfall Curtain at Mount Huaguo, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong himself in flesh and bone.“ Pigsy introduced them as theatrically as possible - graceful waving of hands, straightened back with head properly up and feet firmly rooted in one spot. It wasn’t the best apology but he knew if done right and sincerely it would surely calm Big Brother down.

Mei’s eyes lit with hope. Mighty warriors and a holy man. Fortune found its way and smiled at her for once in recent days. She beamed with gratitude and adoration. She hesitated no more and quickly introduced herself and her protector. Then, the young princess took Bajie by the hand and ordered him to track the rest of the pilgrims. The shy and tearful girl was no longer present. Instead, adventurous fire shone on the path covered with leaves while the couple distanced from the disgraced protector and the fallen warlord.

In contrast to Mei’s cheerfulness those two stood there as if they took roots on the foggy hill. Mouths hung open, their faces didn’t hide the big surprise. Wukong was first to come back to his senses. Hairy head shook and the grip on the cudgel relaxed. Suddenly, Ruyi Jingu Bang changed its size to a tiny needle. Pointy ear soon covered the staff and the owner spat on the ground,“Good to know I taught him something, in the end. By the way, don’t think you won, wheat-head. We’re not done.“

His bold words pulled Márgerdra out of her trance. Her frown recovered while she spoke,“I’m looking forward to it, Your Majesty. Oh, so I don’t forget - stop calling me wheat-head.“

In a blink of an eye, the monkey demon stood right in front of her. For the first time Wukong noticed how tall she was in comparison to him. The strange woman towered over the demon by half of the head. Wheels in his mind started working subconsciously. Are there people taller than him? Yes. Is he average at best? Certainly. However nobody’s ever dared to mention it to his face. Does he mind it? Not much. Most of the time. Does he mind her specifically? Now, that was a question he wasn’t certain how to respond to. If she had been petite it wouldn’t have complemented her zeal, smarts and looks well enough, he wondered while the wind picked up again. The scent of blooming magnolia in the light of the summer’s moon just right after the patchy drizzle. He’s always been easily distracted by various smells tingling his well-developed sense. Without a doubt the Sage enjoyed breathing it in. However a suspicion creeped into his mind, haunting him. The scent was too sweet, too strong. Too extraordinary for him. She did possess the look of a man-eater. Yet the image created around her persona - it wasn’t right. Something didn’t add up. But what? She looks human, she feels human. Occasionally there was a sharp undertone deviating from the perfume significantly, he had to admit. Either a normal physical trait for the Northerners…or she was trying to suppress something. To hide a secret under the false angelic face.

From Márgerdra’s perspective, Monkey King’s seemingly gaunt figure caught her attention. He wasn’t at all the type anyone would picture upon hearing the word warrior. The strength which radiated from him both during and outside the fight proved it wrong - the modestly decorated tunic hugged his well-defined chest and shoulders as muscles flexed underneath. His tail was wrapped around his thin waist like a belt. Unnerving thought crossed her mind; it must be nearly as effective as her whip. She properly observed his face. She spotted a few tiny freckles sprinkled on the nose above which the skin grew into a weak shade of red. It was barely recognizable, though, as dark face markings slithered around his protruding cheekbones and under the fur. When she locked gaze with him the witch was captivated by his eyes. They were watchful, prideful, wild. Yet inexplicable warmth was hidden deep inside. Márgerdra knows it. She’s seen such eyes before. She’s felt that tenderness once. But that was a long time ago and irretrievably gone in the cruel dust of the past.

An unease clustered inside her chest. She grabbed the blue jacket and pulled it closer. The fine flowery pattern rustled in the rhythm of green willow leaves.

The royal protector averted the head to the ground pretending to rub the still swollen nose. It appeared to be slightly misshapen. At least the bleeding stopped which was a sign of her strangely fast regeneration. The monkey ignored it blatantly and said what was exactly on his mind,“Make me, witch.“ The reaction faintly came off as provocative, given the temper that had been shown. A broad grin plastered on his face revealed a set of fangs.

“On my deathbed.“

“Wow, somebody likes to play big.“

“You owe me,“ she placed both hands on the sides of her nose,“for that broken nose.“ A crack was followed by the witch cringing to it. Although, not a single sound other than the body part being reformed was made. Wukong cocked his eyebrow. He noticed the woman displayed a certain amount of stubbornness but this was a new level for him.

“It’s blonde.“

“What?“

“The shade you’re looking for. It’s called blonde. Not wheat-head. Plus, next time I tell you something and you don’t understand, say ‘excuse me’. Have some manners, imbecile.“

The monkey shrugged it off,“Fine, blondie. Also, it’s Wukong. Y’know. The one whose ribs you penetrated with a knife while strangling me before I got to break something. Not imbecile.“

The wolf witch was prepared to flush him with another wave of remarks but the Monkey King was quicker. “Shush. You’re speaking too much, blondie,“ he placed a finger on her lips. “Hurry up. You definitely don’t want to stay here all alone.“ He turned on his heel, stretched once more and marched off with a steady step.

The witch followed him. However, the last drops of venom slipped from her silent growl,“As if I needed your help.“

“Apparently yes. Now c’mon, blondie.“

****

Shadows, which a cliff created, were cold and dark. Among them was a hole so black it blended in perfectly, and behind the thick curtain of darkness was a long tunnel. Inside, small droplets of water streamed by the pale limestone. Images, which their tracks carved into the rock, were both mesmerising and terrifying - some of them were tiny plum flowers on thin branches. Most of them, however, were gaping mouths of ravenous beasts buried away from the sunlight, forever trapped in their own despair and hatred. The only company they had apart from fragile blossoms were echoes of water that created them. It dragged itself down and down until it reached the floor which was as naked as a prisoner’s back moments before harsh whipping. This time, it wasn’t an ordinary animal or air torturing the sleeping behemoth. The inanimate spine was being scratched by a large object. It squeaked so much that ears could bleed. To count in the trail full of blood and still somewhat fresh flesh, maggots and other vermin crawling in the mixture, a monstrous sight was the only possible outcome. The hand which was dragging the corpse was equally hideous. Dark claws were clutching onto the limb until the person reached the end of the narrow forgotten cave. There, the carcass of a chestnut horse was let go off. Meanwhile a single candle lit up in the hostile shadows. As the cloaked person sat down by the pile of remains they still kept the hood on. They began to feast on everything. It didn’t matter whether it were worms or meat. That hunger needed to be satisfied. After all, the traveller arrived from a long distance. Certainly, neither the horse meat of Gang nor dead soldiers with the tiger symbol were as tasty as the monkey from several days ago. However it had to do.

A grin appeared on the bloodied mouth. Fangs flashed in the flickering light. Soon, he will be free. He will be reborn. He will be…him. All it takes is just a little push.

The traveller yawned. He stretched the lean back. All signs indicated the evident fatigue. Although, the saying that looks are deceptive has never lied. This time it’s not any different.

Wild eyes watched the entrance. Pointy ears pricked up. Nothing. Just the wind howling as usual. The nose picked up on the strange smell, though. Some came from the corpses but the rest was flowing in from the outside world. The mixture of incense, sweat and blood hit him. There was also one more scent he couldn’t push away from his mind. It was gentle yet strong and sweet at the same time.

Good, they should be slowed down. Then he’ll catch them, finally. Until then he needs to gain some strength. After all, Great Sage used to be known as the strongest demon king for a reason.

****

The pilgrims reached their destination alongside their new guests. As soon as Sanzang approached them Wukong began his interrogation. Why did they leave the protective circle? Did anything happen? Did they see or hear anything? An animal, a human, a demon around? Of course, his Master answered them hesitantly before rushing to help the limping noblewoman the moment he saw her. Sha Wujing quickly provided them with herbal treatments and oils he managed to find.

“Wukong, who is she? Where did you and Wuneng find her? W-what happened to her?“

Before any of the elder disciples had a chance to give the answer a woman emerging from the dark shadows cut them abruptly,“Shifu Sanzang of the Great Tang Dynasty?“ The moment she found the bald man the witch bowed deeply. Slightly puzzled, Sanzang paid her the equal amount of respect. When Wukong assured him they’re all safe the monk let the witch take him to the side and explain the tough situation. In the meanwhile, Wujing brought up a cheerful conversation with Mei. Despite her initial timidity she overcame her fear and laughed at Sandy’s stories. His easy-going nature soothed her own kind heart and so the princess swiftly came to address him by the nickname Ol’ Sha. He didn’t mind in the slightest as not only it made her smile but she also paid less attention to him examining the injury. Luckily, the ankle was sprained and the rest only covered in bruises. No cut was too severe - they were barely a scratch.

In the opposite corner of the camp the other three members were preparing food. Unless Bai Long Ma’s attempt was to be counted as a cook’s helper. His never-ending interrogation was getting on the monkey's nerves,“So you broke her nose? Just like that?“

“Exactly what I was thinking! Just look at those pretty eyes. How could you harm such a wonderful creature, Big Brother?“

“Bajie, stop drooling. For you, brother Wukong, I see she harmed you, too. Despite that, you really shouldn’t have bullied her after. I’m certain she has good intentions.“

Bang! The bowl with rice loudly crashed against the rock on which Wukong was squating. It was crystal clear nobody seemed to have a problem with the women’s company apart from the Monkey King. “Bai Long Ma, I think Wujing’s calling you. Better hurry up.“

“Big Bro, do you know you have to cooperate since the princess and the advisor are coming with us?“ Bajie carefully brought up the topic again after Ao Lie left.

“Yes.“

“Do you know the princess is basically innocent and caught in between?“

“Yes.“

“Aaand you know that Shifu wants to help them?“

“Yes,“

“You know the advisor did it in self-defence, right?“

“Bajie, shut up already. Gather the others. We should take cover. It seems it’s going to rain,“ the monkey reminded him of ink clouds above them.

Seeing how unwilling his impish brother was, Pigsy stood up,“You’re not angry because she nearly defeated your clone. You just hate the fact she acts so similar to you.“

The pig's head almost didn’t dodge the bowl. In the last moment before it hit the ground Zhu Bajie caught it with visible sweat drops on his forehead.

“Gather. The. Others. I can see an overhanging cliff.“ With fury burning in eyes Wukong vanished.

The tail swung from one side to the other while he was approaching a wide rock. There were two pines and some smaller spruces guarding the place. Immediately, right as he set his foot under the low overhang, heavy rain started falling from the sky. Annoyed grunts made their way towards the Sage. Without him approaching the hurried group the irritation shook the ground. The monkey squatted once again. His intention wasn’t to let his Master and juniors nor the noblewoman soak in the rain. Seeing how fast the witch ran with her long locks splattered chaotically - that was a different topic for sure. During scouring her face her nose was no longer red or swollen. Instead, it was wrinkling beyond what he’d been shown so far. It gave off a slightly silly image. Wukong couldn’t help but sneer.

The longer he was watching them the more he grew aware of a detail he failed to notice earlier due to his worries. Because he was mad at himself beyond belief, he ignored the cold water soaking in the thick fur, jumped to his feet and rushed forward to help his Master. Grabbing Sanzang under his armpit, he shouted through deafening noise,“Shifu, I found a passage. It looks like it’s leading westward.“

“Are you sure, Wukong?“ the monk waded through the mud.

“Yes. Quickly. Get under the cliff so I can explain further, Shifu.“

The moment the whole group was in the safety of the rock they began to listen to Wukong’s welcomed discovery. Fortunately, their female company recognised the path and remembered their vague grasp on the location. There was no hesitation to mark a possible city on the monk’s map - the Red Lantern City, the capital of the country under the reign of Mei’s fiancé. As tempting as it was, the road leading to it was complicated and full of dangers. Not to count in the late rumours of missing people in the area or the legend of a demonic settlement. Thus, a deal was formed - monk’s disciples will keep the princess unharmed, in return, women will make sure the pilgrims will arrive at the Brocade Palace where they’re going to be provided with supplies and continue in their mission safely through the kingdom. In Sage’s head, a single tune was playing - easier said than done. Upon looking at his Master the monkey stepped out to the witch who mirrored him. It took one regretful frown and one annoyed eye-roll to nod in the final, mutual agreement. They would set out the next day whether they like it or not.

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Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added): @vanessaroades-author @rubywrite @aohendo @rbbess110 @jgmartin @outpost51

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List of chapters:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Epilogue

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