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kangaracha · 2 months

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CATSKIN for @feelbokkie

prompt felix + twisted fairytale (catskin)

TW for blood, minor character death, mentions of sexual assault, medieval type violence

word count 4444

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When first you meet, it is like two stars colliding - like the sun and the moon dancing around each other in the sky, and love at first sight is a dream for foolish, insipid children and you know that to be true, but...

Maybe in this moment, you forget. Maybe you see his face, warm against the cold ice of the cape that falls over his shoulder, or maybe you watch the soft curve of his mouth as he laughs at something his brother says, standing so subtly apart from the crowd that no one notices they are there. Maybe your eyes meet across the room, sun-warmed brown to striking blue, and time stills and the dance stops and your heart thinks that here and now, nothing else could matter but the taste of his name on your tongue and knowing what his hand would feel like in yours.

But this isn't real. The ballroom is crowded, and he is a familiar face you have never met, and you are a stranger with the moon draped over your shoulders for the night. The band strikes up a dance, a lively rhythm that swings fast and slow, and you are swept into the rush of the current, your feet moving in a pattern that they know from heart. Your hands are still stained with coal; you take every suitor's hand palm-down, hiding the black stains that won't quite scrub from already-dark skin, and you waltz without meaning until pale, slender fingers take yours and hold them tight, tugging you from the dance before you can be passed on to the next partner in line.

"Wha-" you begin, and then you look up into the eyes you've dreamed of for days and months and years and forget what you were going to say at all.

"Sorry," he says, and drops your hand with all the haste you'd expect someone like him to once he looked close enough to see the lie shivering beneath your skin. "I just wanted to know your name, before I lost you in the crowd."

Love at first sight is a story mothers tell to put their children to sleep at night, and you have lost all your senses because in that moment, your mouth opens as if to answer him.

"There you are," a voice says behind you, too sweet to be any you know; and an arm loops through yours, and here is Hyunjin suddenly, jewels dripping from his brow and a fire burning in the back of his eye where only you know what it is for. "It's so like you to wander off. Come on; our friends are looking for us."

"Before you go-" says the mouth you'd seen laughing from across the hall, the prince it belongs to reaching out a hand - but you are already gone sliding away through the crowd that fills his ballroom from wall to wall with more dazzling finery than you've ever seen in your life.

"That was close," Hyunjin breathes in your ear, and there is the voice that you recognise, liquid fire and undertones of dark shadow. "You're supposed to avoid him, you know."

"I know," you mutter and allow yourself to be swept away, all thoughts of love and the sun and the electric feeling that had jumped from his hand to yours swept to the side.

II.

The king likes the ballroom to be full and the people to be colourful, and he likes the crowd to be lively.

The wine flows freely for the last day of the summer, the lords and ladies stripped of their cautious humours and careful tongues. Their laughter is raucous as you slip out into the garden, the sun pulled over your shoulders in lengths of fine silk that cut away the cold wind that bites at your exposed skin. Already, the trees have begun to turn and the grass is wet with the season's rain; you stand in the centre of an autumn scene and watch the leaves flutter and fall, the light of the lanterns glittering from your skirts and the swirl of beading across your breast, woven from the finest gold.

"It's you," says the man beneath the tree; and when he steps out into the light, dressed again in pure white, you forget to pretend that you hadn't seen him, or that you'd simply come out here to breathe in air that wasn't stifled by the laughs of a thousand other people. "I was looking for you, you know."

"Were you?" you ask with the curve of a smile, your tongue loosened by the quiet of the cooling night and the seclusion of the garden. "Or could you just not find someone to dance with?"

You'd seen him earlier, standing at the edge of that floor. Gently turning away the hands of countless maidens in gowns that dripped in jewels under the guise of speaking to his brothers, searching the crowd with his eyes at every moment he thought that eyes weren't watching him. The guilty smile that plays on his face says that he knows exactly what you are thinking of; the step that he takes within your reach says that he isn't going to hide it. "Maybe I was waiting for the right person," he says, and then his cheeks turn pink in embarrassment, his eyes sliding momentarily away from yours.

"You'll waste your entire night if you think like that," you tell him lightly, and then you glance over your shoulder at the doors to the ballroom - to give him a moment to himself, you tell yourself, and pretend that it wasn't because you thought you felt the creep of Hyunjin's watchful gaze over the back of your neck. There is no one at the door though, no one watching through the backs that are turned to the glass. Only he can see you here, the sun standing in the middle of the night's darkness.

"I never got to ask your name the last time I saw you," he says; and with a start that jolts up your spine like electricity, you turn back to him.

"I never got to ask yours either," you say, in lieu of the answer that you cannot give him. Never mind the danger of him recognising you too closely after this night - if he mentioned to Hyunjin the name of a girl he'd met in the garden, if Hyunjin knew what you were doing between the tasks you'd been given...

"Everyone knows mine," he scoffs; not because he thinks so highly of himself, but in the reluctant acceptance of someone who had never known a moment of privacy. "You can't have come to the woodlands knowing so little."

"And what if I didn't?" you question, playing along on this string of a conversation rather than letting him turn it back around to the question he'd really tried to ask. "What if I'd simply come here to enjoy the night, and seen a man across the room that I thought I'd like to know?"

His smile grows wider, his eyes softening. You like the way that smile looks on him. "Then I'd tell you my name is Felix," he tells you. "And I'd probably ask you to dance before we met like this, out here in the garden where no one is looking. And it probably wouldn't be such a scandal if we were seen either."

"That doesn't sound like as much fun though," you say. "Isn't it much more interesting to meet like this, than to have it all planned out?"

"Are you someone that likes trouble?" he asks, head tilted to the side in question; and the words seem cautious, probing, but he draws in closer again anyway, enough that his hand can brush yours in the folds of your dress.

"Maybe I am," you tease, your heart fluttering and jumping around in your chest like a nervous rabbit. "Aren't you?"

"I think I could be," he says, and his hand brushing your chin is followed by his lips brushing yours; and it is only a question, a stepping across boundaries that promises to rescind immediately if you push him away, but love at first sight is a dream and you think maybe, in another life, you might have been a terribly indulgent dreamer.

You kiss him with all the certainty that had driven you to this point, this garden and this night and this man, and his lips are soft and he smiles too much, and his hands are hesitant to wander, but you've already tried hot, heady passion and men who take what they want. Soft is new, and questioning sends a shiver down your spine, and you think this is a better man.

And then you stop because you remember, but you play it off as the toll of the bell startling you from a daydream. "I have to go," you say, which is true, and then, "I hope you find someone to dance with tonight," which is not.

"Will I see you again?" he asks; and it's notable, you think, that he doesn't reach out of try to stop you. That he accepts on face value that you are telling the truth and that, even though his eyes say they want you to stay, his mouth would be rude to ask.

"Maybe," you say, the word drawn out like honey dripping long and slow from your tongue. "If you have another ball."

He laughs, his eyes squeezing closed with the pain of it. When they open again, you make sure you are gone from his sight.

You're pretty sure you dropped something like your heart there in the courtyard, but you don't dare to go and get it back. Not yet.

III.

You're cutting through fine hallways of tapestry and stone from the garden, your basket filled with vegetables and your face streaked in dirt. You aren't supposed to be here - a scullery maid shhould be in the dark spaces between the walls, scurrying up and down steep and spiralling stairs, but you're late and the cook is a stone-faced woman with a tongue made for lashing, and you hadn't thought-

The prince stops to look at you, confusion furrowing in his brow as he stares at your face. Recognition; except that today you are hiding under the brown of the dirt and the mantle of wild fur, cobbled together from the backs of many animals but none so fine as te ermine that lines his coat.

Your heart sinks even as it pounds in alarm at the thought of him finding out what you are and where you've come from. It is a disaster if it happens, surely, but at the same time - maybe you'd tricked yourself into thinking that he remembered you the same way you did him. Or maybe he had tricked you, with the way he'd so quietly given you his name in the garden, the earnesty with which he'd nearly asked you to stay.

"Your highness?" Hyunjin asks at his shoulder, dressed all in his own princely regalia, and Felix turns away. And for a moment you hate Hyunjin, as you slip to the side of the hall where your feet should be, out of the way; because how could he be so beautiful, and so detached and so true to his beliefs that he could play the prince, and you are so suited to fur and treachery that you stand here a maid?

"Sorry," Felix says, to Hyunjin and not to you, and pretends to move on. You can see his eyes flick back again as he leaves though, trying one last time to see past the furs and the dirt, to place where he has seen you before.

You can see Hyunjin's too, piercing when they look directly at you. Warning, that you are overcomplicating things. That this is all about to be a mess, and you are no longer prepared for it.

Your ire rises again. You know what has to happen, and what he will do to facilitate it, and you know your own roll. You know it all has to end. Who is he, to think you can't carry through on a promise? Who is he to doubt you?

IV.

The final coat is made of feathers plucked from the birds of the sea cliffs, tawny brown and ochre and cream. Hidden in the tunnels of the castle, Hyunjin tucks a sprig of samphire into the curl of your hair, picked from the edge of the world before you had left and wrapped carefully in paper made for preserving these kinds of things. A piece of home, brushing up against your ear every time you turn; a signal to those that you have let in the back door that you are a friend, in case you are caught in the havoc.

"What happened to your hands?" he asks as he steps back to look at you, his own lifting your wrists so that he can see the black marks on your fingers.

"There was grease on the gate lock, to stop it sticking," you reply. "It doesn't wash off like blood does."

He drops your hands just as fast as he'd picked them up, his eyes scanning the feathers again. As if it was this coat that you'd worn when you'd taken a knife to the man at the gate, as if he would find evidence of the blood on your hands smeared across the vanes if he only turns you this way and that. Silly of him, really - the edge of the fur coat was the one that bared the stains. The fur was made for the work of the hands. The feathers were only sent as a signal, a draw of the eyes, dropping in the path of your feet as you walk towards the ballroom.

"Stay away from the prince," Hyunjin warns you, his attention turning in the direction of his own path to the party. "He's looking for a particular girl that he saw last time. He'll have eyes everywhere."

"Not on the ground though," you answer, shaking out the coat and watching a feather of mottled brown drift to the floor. You ignore the way that your stomach dips at the mention of a girl. You neglect to mention that the girl he's looking for might be you, and the rouge brushed across your cheeks and the glitter of gold on your eyelids will only draw his eyes.

You should have worn the dirt and hidden in the shadows, but that's not how they had prophesised it. The witches had whispered of a feather coat and a dress made of the sun and a moonlight shawl, and you'd been the one foolish enough to wear them, and no one in those rooms had been able to resist the magic of them, least of all the prince.

"Time to go," Hyunjin says as the bell tolls seven, and with one last look between you, you turn your seperate ways.

You don't know where his heart resides, but you know that yours is in your throat. You hope that he survives the night. You hope that whatever he came here for is worth what it is going to cost.

At the moment the ballroom bursts open, the black soldiers streaming in from every entrance, you are looking at the prince.

You hadn't meant to. You had taken Hyunjin's advice, as much as it grated at you to do it, and you had avoided him, skirting around the edges of the room while he searched in all the wrong places for you, dropping your feathers where the feathers wanted to fall and hiding in crowds of garish colour that sniffed and sneered at your coat of soft brown; but even though you don't wear the sun or the moon, you still orbit around him and him around you when you are in this room, and to stay away from him was-

Impossible, in the moment when you turn and there he is, right on your tail like the hunters following the birds to their nests in the cliffs, willing to jump from the rocks just to collect the eggs that might hide below. Except that he wasn't here to steal from you, or to catch you in his hands and tame you - he only thinks that you are beautiful, or that he could love you if only you gave him a chance.

And then the feathers ruffle and shift in the breeze, and the doors open, and the room fills with the men of the sea, axes and knives glinting in their hands and white teeth snarling within their faces.

Eerie silence falls as the room stutters to a halt, the shiny, red-faced aristocrats turning to stare at the army that have entered their sanctuary. The first one falls by the main entrance, his wine arcing through the air as he tumbles to the ground under the sharp blade of an axe; and then they scream, and they move in every direction, and in the maelstrom of silk and chiffon and eyes of horror you lose sight of the prince.

Slipping across the room is like fighting upstream against a raging river, ducking between bodies and around blades that don't have time to see the samphire behind your ear. You fade away into the one hallway you hadn't marked with a feather, disappearing into the black of the walls and the twisting tunnel down to the kitchens where just moments ago maids had scurried out to deliver the feast, and your heart breaks at the red-suited body that tumbles in on your heels, the eyes of a man in armour of beaten iron that take in your feathers and your face and turn away, back to the bloodbath, but you can't go back. You can't save him.

And then a gutteral cry echoes down the tunnel, and a body blocks the light that flickers from its entrance, and there he is, your prince. His eyes are scared and his mouth open as he gasps for breath, the little knife he'd used on your countryman held in a white-knuckle grip in front of him as if he thinks he might need it again at any time. Blood splatters the front of his snow-white coat, tarnishing the pearls and sinking into every fibre of the cotton and wool that holds it together.

"It's you," he gasps between breaths, the words reverberating from the stone walls. "I found you."

"You-" you begin to say, but the words are lost in the storm of thoughts that cloud your mind, the race of scenarios that you can imagine coming from this unfateful meeting, this turn in the story that was never anticipated. Every step has been told to you up until now - the coats, and the feathers, and the rush of men into the ballroom that leads to the fall of a kingdom - but no one said a word about this. About him, the prince, the hands that now cup your heart to their chest, and the knives at his back as he stands there, just one step shallow of safety.

You think too much about what has happened and what could happen next, but you don't think at all when you reach out and grab him, dragging him down the tunnel and into the darkness, where only sporadic lanterns burn to guide the way. Around this corner and then that, down a staircase so steep that countless girls have broken their necks tripping on its uneven stones, into the warmth and light of the kitchen, where the smell of the pig roasting over the fire fills the air and the stack of pots waiting for you to wash them later in the night teeters towards the ceiling, stacked in one corner by several pairs of careless hands.

No one is here. They'd timed it deliberately for the arrival of the feast, when the attendants of the ball would all reconvene from the corners of the palace to the ballroom to fill their already ample stomachs. Incidentally, this meant that the kitchen staff were all in attendance too, arranging dishes under the watchful eye of the cook, which meant that when you tried to hide a prince in the kitchen-

"Wait," he says, dragging back against your hold on his arm. "Wait, I know a way out of the castle. I can take you where it's-"

"No," you cut across him before he can finish, and you tug at him again, dragging him step by step towards the maid's quarters. "They're in the hidden tunnels too. There's no way out."

He's so surprised that he forgets to resist you, his body going slack with his jaw and his feet following you across the room. "How do you know that?" he asks.

You don't dare to look back at him as you enter the room you share with the other girls, as you open the little chest-of-drawers that holds everything you brought with you (but not everything you own) and you pull out the clothes you wear day-to-day - grey trousers and a cream shirt slowly staining brown, and the coat of a thousand furs, its edges stained with fresh blood. "Put these on," you order him, shoving them into his arms without looking him in the eye, and then you turn your back.

"I wouldn't punish you for pretending to be from the court," he says to your back as he changes, the white jacket thrown to the dusty floor and then his shirt and breeches. "Or for knowing whatever you know. You saved my life." His boots are too nice to be a servant's, but yours won't fit him; you reach for Alice's old pair while he is busy, set neatly at the foot of her bed, and hand them to him when he is done, picking up the clothes he has discarded instead.

You saved my life too, you should say of the man he had killed, to keep up the illusion, but the lie seems wan in the face of the truth you are going to have to admit to him by the end of the night. You stalk past him instead, headed to the fire with the truth and the lies still sitting sour on your tongue.

The shirt and pants burn easily, the leather of the boots slow to sink between the logs that fuel the flame. You hesitate a moment before throwing the coat in after them, eyeing its precious pearls and hand-woven patterns of leaves and swirls. A silver brooch pinned to the lapel catches your eye; your thumb runs over it, feeling the careful details its maker has pressed together and the chips of diamond that embed its surface.

"That was my mother's," Felix says behind you, a certain grief hidden in the stiffness of his voice. "But you can burn it if you have to."

"I don't have to," you reply, and you work it free of the fabric with delicate and practised fingers. The coat feeds the flame; the brooch pins onto your dress, just above your heart.

"Pretend to be a servant," you say as you turn to look at him. Your hands reach out to fix his coat, to smear the soot from the fireplace into his golden curls and down his cheeks. "I can't keep you alive if you're a prince, but if you're just a boy from the kitchens-"

His hands catch yours as they slip from his face, the ash that clings to your skin staining his as he grips them tight. "Who are you?" he questions. "What have you done?"

Tight-lipped, ashen-faced, you look up into his eyes - pale blue to forest brown, liar to honest truth. "I'm the feathercoat," you say, as if he will understand the words of a fable that people only whisper over the sea cliffs and the raging storms of the ocean. "I'm the one that brings the woodlands to their knees. I'm-"

Your voice chokes in your throat, your fingers growing numb from the force of his grip on your hands. There's a knife still tucked into his waistband - there's a knife behind him, stuck by its tip into the surface of the cutting board. You only have your feathers, and the excuses that stack up in the back of your throat; that the witches told us it would be so, or your land is the only gift my father will accept in place of a marriage to that man, or haven't you seen the way your father encroaches on our cliffs? Haven't you seen the way your farms destroy our hills and valleys and pollute our river? But those are all reasons that blame someone else, and you are the one that stands here, and the grease from the gate stains your fingers, not theirs-

"I loved you," he says, and he lets go of you like he has been burned. "I saw you across the room, and I thought no one could be so beautiful, and you can't even tell me the truth when-"

A shout echoes down the hall you'd escaped from, the rattle of armour and the thunder of heavy boots against the floor. "Wait," you say to him, a hand suspended in the air between you. You're afraid to touch him, when he could reach for that knife - when he deserves to see your blood run, for what you have done - but you can't let him run to his death all the same. "Wait until we live, and then I'll tell you, and then you can kill me. But wait. Take my hand and wait."

He hesitates, his eyes wary like he doesn't believe you, but the man on the stairs shouts again, calling for someone to follow him, and the fear shoots right into his heart and his hand slides into yours, his pulse fast but his fingers cold.

"I don't want to kill you," he says, like a promise you can't believe he will keep. "Just keep me alive, and when the sun comes up, tell me everything. Please. I don't have any reason to kill you if everyone here is already dead."

"I will," you reply, and this is a promise that will be kept, whether or not he reaches for the knife when the light of the dawn comes. "I love you too, you know. I didn't mean to hurt you."

And yet, you have. And yet, the guilt and the feathers eat you alive.

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PERMANANT TAGLIST

@amyyscorner @kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @keepswingin @rylea08 @puppysmileseungmin @thatonedemigodfromseoul

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rainofthetwilight · 1 year

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honestly, when i first saw sora's backstory, i didnt react much, but now im noticing everything and its just really sad to think about

see this little kid who was full of hope? see this girl, that was just an innocent kid full of life, having that one role model that every kid had in some point of their lives?

this girl was then stripped away from everything she loved the moment she realized the truth, that this "role model" of hers was abusing poor innocent creatures, that their people have been brainwashed by this so-called emperess she actually used to follow, having your own parents shun you and take away everything you had and isolate you just because you knew the truth, and said truth wasnt just something bad, no, it was a fucking nightmare to think about, imagine taking that all in at 10

if the merge never happend, she would've been stuck in that sucker of a realm her whole life. she wouldve never been able to continue her childhood, her love for tech, nothing just absolutely nothing. she wouldve been locked away and alone forever, she wouldnt even have her own family by her side

the fact she didnt even hesitate to leave when the merge happend is heartbreaking, she was so fucking young, and was treated so poorly by everyone. imagine staying like that for probably months. she even named herself after that freaking dragon to respect her.

and as someone who actually experienced what sora had to endure when i was a kid, being shunned by my family for nearly a year during that time, i just have to point out that:

ana and sora are two completely different charcters.

when ana left, she became sora. a completely new person that was an ending with a new beginning, seeds that became remenants.

I know alot of people will disagree with me and say that lloyd had a tougher backstory, or maybe harumi, etc, but every charcter experienced something the other wouldnt handle, making no tragedy rougher than the other

i have nothing else to say but..damn

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 10 months

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Wassup folks I was having thoughts about Macaque and ended up writing a ficlet using said scattered thoughts about his character. enjoy o7

Wordcount: 2k

Macaque wasn’t a very complicated person. If anything, he thought himself rather simple.

He liked what he liked, and he didn’t like what he didn’t like. He wanted three main things, and couldn’t imagine wanting anything more.

Macaque wanted food.

More specifically, he wanted fruit. He loved fruit. Having food was an important part of being happy. He knew well that being happy without food in your stomach was a difficult thing. He was especially fond of the sweetness and tartness fruits would give him. He loved to eat it, loved to find the best crab-apples, plums, apricots, tangerines, and peaches, to pick them out one by one and triumphantly show them off before peeling them or shoving them directly into his mouth. He didn’t mind digging for melons that were hiding under leaves, or hunting for sugar-cane and peeling off the outer layer with his teeth for the sweet bits inside, or climbing high up to get coconuts and smash them onto rocks to open them up. Shi Hou had smashed a coconut on his own head once, splitting it in half and getting the milk inside in his fur. “Like a rock, see?” he had declared proudly. Macaque remembered hiding his face in his arm to disguise his laugh.

2. Macaque wanted the sun.

Contrary to what a lot of humans, and even sometimes other creatures assumed, one of Macaque’s favorite things to do was nap in the sun. His fur was dark, his natural form of magic gravitated towards things like shadows and places under rocks no one could see, so many assumed he would prefer to spend his time in dark places and away from light. Macaque rather thought the opposite. He believed his affinity to shadows and dark cold places were the very thing that drove him into the sun to shake that uncomfortable chill from his bones and feel soft sweet sunlight on his skin. He loved nothing more than a nap in the soft grass with a light breeze, his stomach full of fruit and the gentle warmth of the sun touching his face and soaking into his fur. The only time he enjoyed shade falling over his face was when he looked up to find another source of light beaming down at him with the promise of mischief in its eyes. 3. (And rather most importantly,) Macaque wanted his friend.

His best friend. His only friend really; Shi Hou, later named Sun Wukong. Without him, the fruit was less sweet, the sunlight was cooler, and Macaque was sure he would be less happy. Before, Shi Hou, fruit and the sun had been enough, but after knowing him, being near him, and following him into all sorts of fun and chaos, Macaque couldn’t imagine being happy without him. He was a second sun, a light in all the shadows and dark places Macaque used to hide. He was his best and only friend, the person Macaque would pick out of hundreds to spend time with. The only one who could drag him out of his solitude to be with the other monkeys and join in on the fun. Sun Wukong was his person, and it made him happy to know it was just the two of them against the world.

Until it wasn’t.

Intruding on his happiness came demons, celestials, and every other groveling insect that crawled out of the bush to beg for his friends' time as Sun Wukong started to seek more power. It was fine at first, he made time for Macaque. The extra power felt nice, the reputation he started to build meant no one bothered them. He was gone now and again for increasing periods of time, but most of the time Macaque was with him, and he always came back so it didn’t matter.

(Until it did. Until he was gone for years.)

It was fine until those three joined the brotherhood: Azure Lion, Golden Peng, Yellow-Tusk... They pushed their way in and sat at the table, taking up space and Sun Wukong’s attention. But that wasn’t what really annoyed Macaque. Shi Hou always made time for him, always listened when he spoke, which wasn’t often around the brotherhood. No, what annoyed Macaque the most was the wars they spoke of. The battles they laughed about, the glory they spoke of to Sun Wukong until his eyes seemed to sparkle, something a little ugly underneath the awe; want, but not the good kind. What annoyed Macaque was how enamored Wukong was by it all. Rebellion, they spoke of. Pushed forward by bravado, Wukong left and came back with stories that made Macaque’s hands curl into tight fists and his fur stand on end. Talk of challenging even the Jade Emperor.

Isn’t this enough? Macaque thought again and again. Isn’t the fruit and the sun and me and you enough? We’re immortal now, isn’t this enough? But Sun Wukong was not Macaque. He was never satisfied once he’d seen the other side, once he’d had a taste of heavenly wine, once he’d sunk his teeth into the flesh of immortal stonefruit with juices sweeter than honey, nothing in the mortal world could compare. The peaches Macaque picked for him would never be enough. Macaque would never be enough next to Celestials and people who would never see Sun Wukong like Macaque did. He wanted a bigger title, sweeter fruit, “a better way of life,” he said, “for both of us.”

Sun Wukong slipped a celestial peach into Macaque’s hands and he could do nothing but stare at it and wonder how what they had wasn’t enough for him.

“I’ve seen things,” Sun Wukong said to him one night, the rest of the brotherhood passed out at the table. “The world is so much bigger than this, Lui’er. They laughed at me--at us.”

“Why does it matter what they think?” Macaque had asked.

Sun Wukong stayed silent.

Macaque closed his eyes and tried not to think about how his friend felt more and more distant on nights like these. He tried not to think about his own hand in pushing him to this place.

After everything, the brotherhood disbanded easily. The nights spent in camaraderie, the talk of glory, the hands on Sun Wukong’s shoulder and pushing him to the forefront of the chaos, praising him as a leader and their King meant nothing the moment he was under the mountain. They scattered like dust in the wind and, as it was in the beginning, Macaque was the only one left.

Sun Wukong was angry. After the initial I-told-you-so that resulted in Sun Wukong screaming at him, Macaque didn’t say much. He tried to keep his visits light. He tried to bring him things, tried to keep him company, but his old friend would accept none of it, his hands clenched, his eyes alight with boiling, barely contained rage and hate. It wasn’t directed at Macaque, but he still sat a distance away. He understood why so many feared him, but Macaque never had. It felt unnatural.

Sun Wukong had plenty to say on his own, filling the silence and Macaque’s six ears with threats of vengeance and violence that made him turn away and want desperately to press his hands over his ears or stick his head into the waterfall back home so the seething sounds of Sun Wukong's anger could be drowned out.

Secretly, privately, quietly, a small part of Macaque was glad for the chains and the mountain that held him down. He hoped it would be enough to calm his friends' anger and allow him time to cool down, time to think and see that there were more important things than power, that it didn’t matter what others thought of them so long as they had fruit, the sun and each other. But to his disappointment, nothing changed. No matter how many days passed, Sun Wukong’s rage remained, simmering and hot. It got quieter. Less threats and more growling and silently glowering until Macaque was sure he’d burn a hole right through the chains that held him captive with his glare alone.

Inevitably, eventually Sun Wukong directed his anger towards the only available target; his best friend and the one person who hadn’t abandoned him the moment he’d lost everything. The one person who came to check on him and visit in the place with no sunshine where the chill would cling to bone even hours after exiting.

Macaque took it for a long while. He understood there was nothing for him to do but rage and snap and insult. He understood the bitterness. Or at least he thought he did. He’d let him rage at him and blame him for it all, being trapped, being useless. He let him call him things and lash out at him even though it hurt because he thought it might make it better. He’d take it until his hands shook and he’d have to exhale to steady himself and leave through a portal, Sun Wukong yelling obscenities behind him. He’d always come back and act like nothing happened until Sun Wukong started all over and Macaque would sit until he couldn’t take anymore, leave and then come back later and repeat the process all over again.

But even a stone wore down eventually, and Macaque was far from as firm and unyielding as stone. His friend’s words chipped away at him little by little until he snapped back, angry at him for not opening his eyes and seeing where they were, why they were there in the first place. Furious at him for being angry at everyone and everything but himself, the real reason he was chained under a mountain and uselessly screaming threats at the cavern as if the echos would carry into the Celestial Court. He was angry at him for looking at Macaque and deciding he wasn’t enough.

“I did it for YOU--for US!” Sun Wukong roared at him.

And maybe it had started that way. Maybe it had been for him once. For them. Or maybe Macaque had turned a blind eye to the lies that had always been there. Maybe Sun Wukong had always been self-centred and selfish and Macaque was too stupid to see it.

He snapped back, because Sun Wukong was trapped, he was trapped and so he would sit and he would listen. He would hear every word he’d ignored, every warning Macaque had tried to give him, every accusation and hurt Macaque felt, he would hear it all and he would listen.

Macaque called him a demon. Like so many others before, every Celestial and human they’d come into contact with, he called him a demon. But unlike the others, Sun Wukong didn’t stretch his shoulder and let it roll off his back. Instead, his jaw dropped. His eyes widened. He reacted in a way Macaque had never seen him before. He saw him react and all he could think was ‘good.’

It was all a bit of a blur after. He couldn’t remember a lot of what he said. He stumbled and leaned against a tree. His hands were shaking, his arms were trembling. His feet were unsteady under him. They’d never fought like that before. A lot of it was a blur but Sun Wukong's last words, banishing him from returning ran clear in his ears. And that alone made him bitter enough to close his shadow portal and decide then and there he was never going back.

Macaque had only ever wanted three things, but now? He didn’t know what he wanted.

A lot happened after that. Bad things. Things he would rather not remember, but one thing was certain. The Six-Eared Macaque as he was, without the Monkey King was vulnerable. He was weak. He was all alone and many preyed on him simply for his association with the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.

So Macaque did all he could think of to do.

He built up a wall, a persona of sorts. He needed to become someone else, someone they couldn’t hurt so easily. He needed to become loud rather than quiet, brash rather than nervous, scary rather than soft. He needed to become someone no one would mess with or dare linger around. He needed to become someone powerful enough to say no. Someone who didn’t want things as stupid and simple as naps in the sun and sweet fruit handpicked from trees and being around friends. He needed to become someone who didn’t care.

But who could he mirror? Who’s confidence and brashness could he channel? Who’s lack of care for the people around them could he mimic and hold close and make himself believe he felt? Who’s personality could he take and warp into what he remembered, vicious and hurtful and power hungry? Who’s weapon could he replicate and clench in his hand when he felt an inkling of care for people who wouldn’t care for him when it really counted? Who could he mimic to become someone else who didn’t want simple things like holding hands with a best friend and picking fruit until they smiled?

Why Sun Wukong of course.

The most selfish person he knew.

(note: please don't slander sun wukong in the notes Macaque's opinions do not reflect the my own regarding the great sage equaling heaven-- hGLS;KJFD)

#KNOX WRITES (me)#Six Eared Macaque Monkie Kid #Monkie Kid Macaque #Macaque Monkie kid #Fic #Monkie kid fic #I really gotta figure out how i want to tag things my gosh *wheezing*#Monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fr tho its interesting how macaque isnt' that complicated of a guy #he plays at being deep and dark and complicated but he's actually just so freaking simple?#i THINK THE MONKEYS ARE NEAT OKAY #also i just really adore them as ex close best friends #extremely close bff's who know each other better than anyone but don't lean into familial or romantic categories my beloved #seriously tho i need me some backstory #we don't even know if Wukong actually killed him in this or not #he doesnt' seem suprrised to see him like he is Azure who he ACTUALLY put into the underworld #SAYS SO HIMSELF #NEVER SAYS THAT ABOUT MACAQUE #I'M SO CURIOUS HECK #if any jttw media spinoff or whatever would have wukong nOT kill macaque outright it'd be monkie kid #anyway heck i'ma just post this before i change my mind #NO BETA WE DIE LIKE LBD #confession time: i don't remember half of what i wrote here so pls have mercy #monkie kid fanfiction #should i post these tiny blurbs to ao3??#never bothered to do it before [shrugs]

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oops-i-dropped-the-galaxy · 3 months

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Ghostlights Prompt Event: Blind Date with a Prompt

aaaaah I'm doing it, I'm gonna post some of my work!

BAM!!

My first time ever posting anything and it's ghostlights, typical. Anyway this was tons of fun to do and I managed to pump this out in like two days. I really hope the smaller details are easy to see bc I had a lot of fun doing things like Dukes heart blush and eyes and Dannys electric scars and it would be a shame if Tumbler crunchifed it too much like Insta usually did.

The prompt I got was Duke is Danny's secret admirer and sharing headphones (that's a lie, it was actually sharing headphones and 1930 but I had no clue how I would do that so I just rerolled and got lucky lol). I might end up doing some more idk I've just never been this inspired before :>

#dpxdc #fanart #ghostlights #ghostlights-prompt-event #blind date with a prompt #fun fact #Dukes shirt is merch i made up of the band 'Batmans [expletive]' that he listens too #i thought it was funny lol #this was also the first time i drew Duke in civilian clothes with is why it looks kinda weird #i was just trying to figure him out and part of that is forbidden shrimp color clothes #fav headcannon of Duke btw top tier #i also realized i havent drawn tucker in ages so he also looks a lil odd but its okay bc hes trying to stay hidden #dont question why they're all on a bus or why Dukes even with them it takes to much backstory to explain they just are okay #good #the preview tumbler gives me makes it look so much brighter than it was on my tablet which is sad but whatever #if you couldn't tell tags are my fav thing on tumbler

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foundfamilyhq · 3 months

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annihilatius · 8 days

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Charles Porter should be allowed to be a little bit fucked up. As a treat ❤

#v.txt #SPOILERS IN TAGS DON'T READ IF U HAVEN'T PLAYED. U KNOW WHO U ARE....#Something I dislike about his character (not hate just dislike) is how he pretty much never does anything wrong #Yeah replicating Pearls voice through The Thinker is bad but it's moreso just a questionable coping mechanism than anything #Fuckin idk he could've just started drinking and driving instead we should be glad that's what ended up happening #At least The Thinker did more good than harm it's not like that was the only thing it ever did #And even then when he finally gets to actually replicating her voice for real he immediately realizes it's weird #Like he's just a flawless little angel or some shit #His wife dies and inbetween the time that happens and he goes to Rapture he apparently had no other coping mechanisms?#When you read his backstory on the wiki it goes from Pearl's death to when he gets recruited by Andrew Ryan straight away #U seriously expect me to believe nothing significant happened in that time?#LET HIM BE FUCKED UP!!!!!!!!!! THAT MAN IS NOT OKAY!!!!!!!!!!#Bioshock #Charles Porter #Vincent's Minerva's Den rewrite

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chibitorra · 6 months

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I was gonna wait till the official chapter to screenshot this quote but I don't really like how Shonen Jump translated this quote...

SJ officially translated it as "Your death is a nuisance to every person who's ever known and loved you" which just makes it sound so... negative.

But in all seriousness, it's moments like this that truly remind me just how much one piece means to me.

Even if Oda doesn't intentionally write these morals into his story, it's moments like these that truly feel as if the characters are speaking to us.

Even if you think you're nothing but trouble to those around you, there will always be people who grieve for your loss.

#torra rambles #one piece #op spoilers #further spoilers in tags beware #tried to keep the main post as vague as possible lol #okay here we go #kuma and Bonney's backstory has been so emotional #I haven't been this emotional since Cora #I wanna make a different post on how Kuma views Luffy bc I think it's fascinating #but god it's so amazing how Oda is able to give so much meaning to such small moments #you don't think much of Kuma's actions before #but knowing them now when you look back it makes you sad

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misty-wisp · 5 months

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omg a sona ref :3c

soooo i drew this design WAYYYY back in like...october i think? but never made a proper ref sheet out of it bc i didn't feel like it yet. but now i feel like it so here she iiiis :] witchsty my friend witchsty

i'll be real it's not up to standards with my oc refs (minimal shading, more simplistic graphic design than usual, etc.) but like. it works. so idrc that much :P

#my art #my sona #drawing #digital art #medibang #ref sheet #idk what tags give a far reach for stuff like this--#i think sonas should have goofy little backstories more often--what do you mean those are just vtubers #imma be real guys last year's design (was it last year?) was kinda ass. also i traced a pose on that one thus i look down on it-#-and banish it to the abyss (private it)#sorry guys villain arc misty is no more. she's silly now. bc i stay silly. also i think i deserve to do magics (<- doesn't do that)#the really funny thing is like. okay usually i use one of those posing doll sites to reference off of? but i didn't for this one #(which honestly i'm proud of myself for. i love it when i can freehand and the anatomy actually looks fine. makes me feel like a god)#so misty here is. shorter than asuka. that was not intentional (nor is it accurate) but it's REALLY funny #grown-ass girlie shorter than a teenager. goofy shit

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wantonlywindswept · 10 months

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me: hmm who to romance who to romance

me: gets to the party scene

me: wait why is everyone all ready for sex now I BARELY KNOW YOU

#bg3 #ace problems #i know bg3 is all about catering to the people #infamous bear scene made that obvs #but like #i need a romance first! backstory! history!#it should take more work than this to enter a relationship with companions!#why yes i did romance fenris in da2 why do you ask #also kaidan in mass effect including no romance in me2 #look i'm too ace for this shit #anyway can't get over gale talking about his ex all the time #(tho he did compare me to his cat so point in his favor)#so i'm def gonna go karlach and maybe?? halsin?#cos apparently there's poly #larian how am i supposed to decide if i wanna sleep with halsin when i've said .5 words to the man #honestly #maybe i've missed out on a bunch of companion interactions??#idk man #EDIT TAGS: OH APPARENTLY YOU CAN'T SLEEP WITH HALSIN YET #okay that makes more sense now #edit again: ALSO WHY IS 'SHARING SOME WINE' AN INVITATION TO SEX #LARIAN PLEASE I'M WAY TOO ACE FOR THIS #this party is a minefield #EDIT 3 THERE IS NOT NECESSARILY SEX AT THIS POINT IN TIME

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mattodore · 9 months

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The BOLD THE FACTS tag with Imani

tagged for my choice of oc by @pralinesims and @raiiny-bay <3

The Rules are simple! Tag people and name a character you want to know more about! If you want to let the person you tagged decide who to showcase, then don’t name a character and they can pick somebody. Easy! The person who is tagged will then bold the remarks below which apply to their character and, if they want to, include a picture with their reply!

[ PERSONAL ]

$ Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty / other ✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable ✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other ✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other ✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no (despite his attempts matthias has never successfully roped her into any of his mess lmao) / has committed crimes, but hasn’t been caught / yes, but charges were dismissed

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children ◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling (but it's complicated... imani has real love for her baby brother but she's also aware of the difference in how her parents treat the two of them and it's definitely impacted their relationship) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased ◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parents / not applicable / other

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between ♦ disorganized / organized / in between ♦ close minded / open-minded / in between ♦ calm / anxious / in between ♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between ♦ cautious / reckless / in between ♦ patient / impatient / in between ♦ outspoken / reserved / in between (she's more outspoken when she's just with romeo or matthias, but when she's around her parents she gets quiet) ♦ leader / follower / in between ♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in between ♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between ♦ traditional / modern / in between ♦ hard-working / lazy / in between ♦ cultured / uncultured / in between / unknown ♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown ♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

[ BELIEFS ]

★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic ☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ❃ Belief in Aliens: yes / no /don’t know / don’t care ✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious ❀ Philosophical: yes / no

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual ❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naïve and clueless / other ♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naïve and clueless / romance suspicious ❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naïve / inexperienced (she's had sex before but her experiences have been few and far in between) / curious ⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all ⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate (she's taken a self-defense class before and matthias has taught her a couple nasty tricks in case she ever needs them) / poor / none ≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good (she sketches while she's waiting around; she's often drawing her own designs, fairies, flowers, snakes, pointy scribbles, or spirals) / moderate / poor / none ✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / alcoholic ☁ Smoking: tried it (disliked the taste and the smell) / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / chain-smoker ✿ Recreational Drugs: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict ✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication (used to take meds for an old ballet related injury but she's good now) / some medication needed / frequently / to excess ☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater $ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic ♣ Gambling: never (she's too disciplined for that) / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler

tagging @cowboycid for val, @helltrait for chris, and @tau1tvec for isa! and let me just rapid fire some of you who i think might have fun with this tag game!! @birdietrait, @wildmelon, @diwns, @fangs-trait, @deehya, @bunmou, and @spurgees