#TIME TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN WITH LONGMA

[angstandhappiness]

NEAT

Ever consider making a personal Wukong design? :0

slams my fists down

LONG STORY SHORT YES!!!

and if its okay i would like to take you all on a journey through my creative process that took. like. a month cause im slow

so when i first started brainstorming i basically took a bunch of my favorite elements of various wukongs and mashing them together

obviously this doesnt look good but thats the point!! its for me to slap shit on the wall and see what sticks

then i was like hrrmmgggg maybe change fur color? so i did

and i made him pink cause i said so.

but now the issue is his color scheme. i had to choose my favorite clothing designs while also letting some go and i really liked the idea of wukong not knowing how to dress so i gave him a robe a couple sizes too big (also was inspired by 1986 wukong!)

during this phase i had 3 ideas grounded

1. long! hair! wukong!

2. 86 wukong’s tiger pelt!!!

3. make him covered in fur completely.

i was still kinda ehhhh about the pink skin cause i felt like it just made his eyes look like he was scalded alive.

but here i basically decided to reallllyyyy tone down his color scheme so its mostly greys and blacks cause i wanted his robe and face to pop. also funny how he went from a yellowish fur to green grey but what can you do.

however. there was one thing i still wasnt happy with

his hair length.... simply didnt hit as hard as i wanted it to. so guess what i did

fucking. MAKE IT A MANE NOW THERES A WUKONG I CAN GET BEHIND. 500 YEARS UNDER A MOUNTAIN WILL MAKE YOUR HAIR OVERGROWN AS HELL

i also made his tiger pelt a sort of 2 piece (IDK THE ACTUAL TERMJDIDJIDJ) so i replaced his cloth with a sort of tiger scarf

and may i say. the vibes are excellent. i finally had a wukong i was happy with :) unfortunately i had to ditch the pink skin to make his eyes look red but i like it much more like this!

anyways thank you for the ask and sorry it took so long to answer!! my creative process is slow cause my brain is tiny

but either way im sure our wukongs would be good pals!!!!

[hcdragonwrites]

Cleansing Rain (@digitalagepulao Drabble)

This was something that came to mind at the little Tumblr post this creator prosed below! It’s short but I hope you enjoy!

A great clap of thunder shattered the birdsong and scattered them like rice grains in the wind. The rumbling beast in the sky sounded tiger-like, it’s approach as soft as those jungle cats. Only it’s breath, as cold and full of water, warned that the beast was about to pounce upon them.

The pilgrims upon the road looked up all with varying expressions of worry. All except one. The youngest of the pilgrims- the youngest in disciplehood that is. The stone monkey had lived longer then a man, longer then most trees, and almost as long as some great dragons of the seas. He had seen the Heavens, had waged war with Immortals and Demons alike. The stone monkey had been King, Student, Sage, and Warlord. He had seen horrors, had survived many of them, and had brought his own to those that had been in his path.

The storms breath heaved again. An exhale of a roar as the rain splattered dry dirt, as it began to create a chime of sounds as the trees leaves laughed in its wake. The earth exhaled, the smell of dampening stone, earth and dirt, rising. As Water and Earth met the Monkey stood still, caught in between.

Sun Wukong, King of Flower Fruit Mountain, Sage equal to Heaven, Warlord and almost usurper of the Jade Emperor- looked upward. While the rest of the band made for a low hanging honeysuckle Wukong stood. The rain fell like the softest breath on his skin. The first droplets were cool. A storm from the mountains blown off course. It would have been snow if it had not been brought to them. To him.

The other pilgrims frantically set up a tent for their Master, Tripitaka. He was but mortal and this cold downpour could take root as a chill and sickness. They worked quickly. All except the newest edition.

Wukong felt the wind run fingers through his fur as if greeting a new friend. The dirt and rock that had clung to him since his imprisonment beneath the mountain was brushed away. To the other pilgrims it looked as if Wukong was just standing in the rain.

The water fell in a heavy sheet, not a soft thing now. The tiger had leapt onto them and roared its rain onto that dry bit of earth. It’s fury however was a welcome thing to the stone monkey. He felt it wash over him- nature in its pure, untamed movement. The water soon had his fur sodden. Wukong leaned into the invisible claws of the storm, enjoying the rush of sensations. It was cold, the wind tried to steal at his clothes in a playful manner, and the thunder clapped his ears as his mother would if he had tried to play a prank on her.

“What is he doing?” Bajie said. He was incredulous beneath his eyebrows, frowning as rain soaked his skin even beneath the tree.

“Looks like he’s enjoying the rain.��� Wujing commented. The great red beard beneath his chin flowed like a river of molten fire- the rain making it stick to his shirt.

“More like getting a bath.” Longma spoke from beneath the branches. The horse shook itself and, with the last shiver, reverted to the dragon prince he was. Longma checked the tent flaps to make sure the ties were secure. It was a small tent and worn. They would have to get a new one soon from the damage this one had taken. From within - and before the eldest disciple could latch the last tie- the young monk poked his head out.

Tripatakas bald head already glistened with the rain as he called Bajie back to his place beneath the tree. The boar had been making its way to the stone monkey, a moody look in his eyes.

“Leave him.” It only took those simple words to recall the boar back to the tree. The monk looked at Wukong again. He took in the stance of the monkey, how the rain was now washing over him. How he looked almost …. Peaceful. Harmonious in a sense. The mortal man felt a small smile steal upon his face. Tripitaka felt he got a glimpse into a personal joy, as one a child gave when experiencing a new sight or as a man enjoying the fruits of his labour come to fruition.

“He looks …happy.”

Longma tied the last flap closed then he, Bajie and Wujing set about erecting another tent for themselves.

Sun Wukong laid back in the green grass, making a soft bed for his head. He stared up into the storm with eyes wide, face soft. The rain continued, the sound slapping against rock and petal, against road and wood, against his fur and ears. The noise- the noise!- it was bliss. No silent stone, no unfeeling chains. Here the wind trussed and pulled at him. Here the rain cleaned away the hundreds of years of neglect left in his fur. It groomed him, awakened his senses, made him feel alive.

Wukong laughed. He laughed until his own rain fell from his eyes. He was alive. He could not die - but there were feelings - there were things worse then death. Life meant so little when one could not experience what it meant to be alive. In the rain, in the cold, in the growls of the storm, Wukong revelled in it.

He was alive. He was glad for the storm, for it covering the sudden well of feeling that made their way down his cheeks and from his eyes. Wukong didn’t stop his tears. They were not of sorrow. Not of pity. They were of joy- the joy of experiencing and touching, tasting, smelling and seeing the world again.

He was alive.

[journeythroughjourneytothewest]

Chapter 29 Recap: Free of his peril, River Float arrives at the kingdom; Receiving favor, Eight Rules invades the forest.

This chapter begins with a reminder that though Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing fought with Yellow Robe for over thirty rounds, neither one had emerged the victor. They were, in fact, able to withstand Yellow Robe’s assault “only because of the fact that the Tang Monk was not yet fated to die [and so] his followers could count on the help of certain deities,” i.e. the Six Gods of Light and Six Gods of Darkness, the Guardians of Five Quarters, the Four Sentinels, and the Eighteen Guardian-Spirits of monasteries. While this collection of gods and yaoguai are battling each other, Tang Sanzang is left “weeping piteously in the cave and thinking about his disciples,” primarily about when or if they’ve realized that he’s been captured. Yet even as he’s lamenting his lot, a woman suddenly walks over to him and asks why he’s here. Tang Sanzang assumes that she’s another yaoguai, and tells her that if “you want to devour me, go ahead.” Yet this woman reveals that she’s as human as him, that her name is Hundred Flowers’ Shame, and that she’s from the Precious Image Kingdom, some three hundred miles west of the cave. She goes on to tell Tripitaka that thirteen years ago the Yellow Robe Demon had kidnapped her and forced her “to become his wife for all these thirteen years and to bear his children.” Tang Sanzang in turn tells this princess about his journey to the west and how the Yellow Robe Demon wants to eat him and his disciples. Hundred Flowers’ Shame assures the monk that she’ll be able to save them all, and that all she asks in return is for him to deliver a letter from herself to her parents. Tripitaka agrees.

The princess writes her letter and unties the monk before telling him to leave through the back while she herself goes to the front of the cave to intercede on the pilgrims’ behalf. Tang Sanzang thanks her and, after leaving the cave’s back entrance, he hides in some bushes to wait. For her own part, Hundred Flowers’ Shame calls Yellow Robe over from his fight, and tells him that she just had a dream where a golden-armored deity demanded that she fulfill an oath she had apparently took as a young women to feed monks if life granted her a good husband. She further takes this as a sign to let Tang Sanzang go, and Yellow Robe agrees to do so, stating that if he “wanted to eat humans, I can catch a few anywhere.” He also tells Zhu Bajie that for the sake of his wife he won’t fight with them anymore, but if they trespass again he won’t spare them. Sha Wujing and Zhu Bajie, hearing this, “felt as if they had been released from the gate of Hell!” Now sufficiently terrified of Yellow Robe’s power, they “darted like rodents past the Current-Moon Cave” on their way to its back, where the sand monk picks up Tang Sanzang and puts him on Bai Longma. As a group the pilgrims hurriedly leave the area, all while Sha Wujing and Zhu Bajie are “trying to put the blame on each other, and Tripitaka had to spend all the time attempting to pacify them.”

A bit at a time the pilgrims travel two hundred and ninety-nine miles, and finally reach the Precious Image Kingdom. Tripitaka soon gets an audience with the king, who gladly certifies Tang Sanzang’s travel rescript. The monk also hands over the letter Hundred Flowers’ Shame gave him. The king starts crying, and reveals that after the princess’s kidnapping, as he had no idea what had happened to his daughter, he had “banished countless officials, both civil and military, and we did not know how many ladies-in-waiting and eunuchs we had caned to death throughout the palace,” along with having “interrogated countless households in the city.” The king’s hands are shaking too badly for him to open the letter himself, so the Grand Secretary of the Hanlin Academy does so in the king’s stead. It is through this letter than the king and court learn of what happened to Hundred Flowers’ Shame; how Yellow Robe had forced her to become his wife, forced her to “suffer such ignominy for these thirteen years,” and how two “monster children were born to me, all seeds of this fiend.” The princess ends her letter by begging her father to “send his noble generals quickly to capture the Yellow Robe Fiend…and bring your daughter back to the court.”

The king bursts into tears as soon as the letter is finished. After he weeps for a long time, he asks if any of his civil and military officials will lead his troops to go rescue Hundred Flowers’ Shame. None of them dare to step forward. The king starts weeping again, and a few of his officials try to offer what advice they can. They note in particular that the king’s subjects are “merely mortal creatures,” not the kind of beings who can face an entity which “comes by the fog and goes with the clouds” like a powerful yaoguai. They then suggest that Tang Sanzang, as a “holy monk from a noble nation…must know the art of subduing monsters.” Tripitaka, however, hurriedly assures everyone that while he “knows a little of chanting the name of Buddha…he does not know how to subdue monsters.” When pressed as to how he made it as far as he did without that power, Tang Sanzang reveals that he has “two disciples, most capable of opening up a pathway” in his journey. The king chides him for not bringing them into the palace, with Tripitaka protesting that they are “rather ugly in their appearances…I fear that they might cause too great a shock to your Majesty.” The king proclaims that he isn’t afraid of seeing them, even after Tang Sanzang gives a detailed description of their monstrous appearances, but after he invites them in he was left “shaking so hard that he fell down from his dragon couch.”

Despite this shock to his system, the king soon calms down and asks Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing if they’re any good at subduing yaoguai. Zhu Wuneng gives a lengthy account on how he was once a celestial warrior, nothing less than the Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, and that on earth he has become “the one most capable of subduing monsters.” To demonstrate his power he also grows up to a height of eighty or ninety feet. Delighted with this demonstration of Zhu Bajie’s magical might, the king sends the pig yaoguai off to try and save his daughter with a cup of special wine and the promise that getting the princess her freedom comes with the reward of a huge banquet and a thousand pieces of gold. We are also informed that while Zhu Bajie is “a rude and rowdy person, he could act courteously when he wanted to.” Draining his cup in one gulp, the former marshal then rides the clouds back to confront the Yellow Robe Demon. Sha Wujing follows afterwards, noting that in their last confrontation they were only able to battle Yellow Robe to a draw, so his assistance will be needed. Tang Sanzang is left behind to chat with the king.

Zhu Bajie is glad to have Sha Wujing’s help, and notes that their efforts to catch Yellow Robe will likely “spread our fame a little in this kingdom.” They soon reach the Current-Moon Cave, and Zhu Bajie hits its door with his rake, gouging a huge hole in it. Yellow Robe is quick to storm out. He grows even more enraged when confronted with kidnapping and rape charges (he tells the pilgrims that “It’s none of your business, so stop meddling!), and proceeds to battle with the former marshal and sand monk. Yet this time the fight goes much more swiftly, and in Yellow Robe’s favor. In but nine rounds Zhu Bajie is at the end of his strength. This is because with Tang Sanzang gone, the dharma-protecting deities that had been secretly assisting the pilgrims in the first fight with Yellow Robe aren’t present. And so Zhu Bajie tells Sha Wujing to “come up and fight with [Yellow Robe] for awhile. Let old Hog go shit first!” And then, “not showing the slightest care for Sha Monk,” he dives through a thicket of bramble bushes and lies still, only poking one ear up so he can hear how the battle is going. Sha Wujing is left “completely flustered” and is quickly captured by the Yellow Robe Demon. And it is here that the chapter ends.

[lunar-wandering]

petals for two

finally, here it is. the Shadowpeach non-fatal Hanahaki AU the people have been waiting for.

Word Count: 13k

Read on Ao3

Bajie and Wujing found Wukong kneeling down by the river.

Again.

For the third day in a row.

"...Elder brother?" Wujing asked, watching how Wukong's back and tail stiffened. "Are you...okay?"

"...Just peachy..." Wukong said, but the way he said it was quiet, wheezy, and entirely unconvincing. Bajie quirked an eyebrow.

"Really? Because that's what you've said the last two times now." He said, crossing his arms with a healthy dose of suspicion on his face. "That last fight was pretty bad- y'know it would be pretty unwise of the 'Intelligent Stone Monkey' to be hiding an injury-"

"I said I'm fine!" Wukong snapped, turning around to glare at them with firey red eyes, his fur bristling with anger.

There was a pause, Bajie and Wujing both falling silent as Wukong continued to glare at them-

And then Wukong's hand flew to his mouth, as he turned back around to face the river, his body shaking with muffled coughs. Both Wujing and Bajie rushed to his side, concerned-

Only to freeze as they saw the purple petals slipping through Wukong's fingers, falling into the river and floating downstream. There was a moment of silence, broken only by Wukong's wheezing breaths.

And then they were both kneeling beside him, Wujing rubbing comforting circles on Wukong's back, while Bajie pulled the Monkey King's hand away from his mouth, letting the petals fall freely.

Wukong, surprisingly enough, let them do this, and the three of them quietly watched the petals float away, vanishing as they went around the riverbend.

If Wujing and Bajie noticed the tears running down Wukong's face, they didn't comment on it.

"...I'm sorry." Is what Wujing chose to say, in a soft murmur.

"It's fine, I'm fine." Wukong whispered, for a whisper was all his throat could manage at the time. "I'll be okay."

They all knew he was trying to reassure himself with his words more so than them.

When the three of them returned to their makeshift camp with an apology and a half-baked excuse, Tripitaka barely batted an eye.

Bai Longma, however, stared at a stray petal clinging to Wukong's outfit with a look of knowing.

Miles away, in a cave hidden by shadows, a figure leaned against the cave wall, one hand steadying himself while the other covered the fresh wound to his eye, petals falling out of his mouth as he cursed whoever decided that love could be unrequited.

-

Hanahaki. The disease of unrequited love.

Or, well, as it was known nowadays, the disease of pining.

Originally, when people were first discovering the disease, they thought it to be only born out of feelings that could never be reciprocated.

As it turns out, that simply wasn't the entire truth.

Overall, about 20% of Hanahaki cases reported end up being due to unrequited love.

The other 80% are due to people who simply, for one reason or another, refuse to confess.

As was recently discovered, about a century or so ago, the one true cure for Hanahaki is to look your beloved in the eyes, and say; "I love you."

As you can imagine, not many people have the courage to do that.

Luckily, the disease has never truly been fatal more than it was a slight hindrance. There even exists some medicines and teas that can reduce the effects of the flowers, although using them comes with its own ballpark of side effects.

Anyways, to make a long story short, MK wasn't surprised to end up meeting someone currently suffering from Hanahaki.

He just hadn't been expecting it to have been the Monkey King.

-

It hadn't really been obvious at first. Hanahaki will sometimes wither slightly when distanced from whoever the afflicted person has a crush on, but it never really takes much to send the flowers into full bloom again.

MK didn't actually hand out with Wukong a lot, and even when he did, it was only for training, something Mk restlessly focused on in the hopes of getting better at being, well, the Monkey King's successor.

Which was why, when during one of their rare breaks, Wukong froze in shock when MK actually asked him a question (one that, for once, wasn't about training).

"...Monkey King? Do you have any friends?" MK asked.

"Sure I do!" Wukong lied, "Why do you ask?"

"Ah- well-" MK stuttered, staring down at the ground in front of him as he seemed to ponder how to phrase his next sentence. "You just seemed... lonely, I guess."

"Well, I'm not, since I do, in fact, have friends, so. Yeah." Wukong said, crossing his arms as his tail slowly swung back and forth nervously.

"Are your friends from now or before?" MK asked, tilting his head in curiosity. "Actually, did you even have friends before?"

"...Before?"

"Before the Journey to the West." MK elaborated.

"Psh, of course I did!" Wukong said, "Y'know, I was even friends with Demon Bull King back then- you wouldn't believe some of the stories I have about him..."

MK had, in fact, already known about Wukong and Demon Bull King having been friends. Tang had been more than happy to bring that up, multiple times.

But what MK really wanted to know was-

"Was there anybody else?" He asked.

"Of course there was! For example, M-" Wukong started, but very quickly cut himself off, the light in his eyes dulling slightly. MK winced, sensing that he'd somehow stumbled upon a sensitive subject.

Before he could apologize though, Wukong suddenly tensed, before turning and starting to walk away.

"Uh, I'll be right back, I just need to check on the younger monkeys for a moment, okay?" He said. It was an excuse that was easily seen through, but MK couldn't bring himself to mention it.

-

Similar situations kept happening.

Sometimes it was understandable, like when Wukong would take a second or so to throw a smile back on his face (a smile MK was starting to recognize as fake) whenever MK brought up the subject of the Journey to the West.

Other times, however, it was a little confusing. Like, for example, when after an unspoken kitchen incident, MK had worn a purple jacket to training. (Mei had let him borrow it from her, since his yellow jacket was still in the wash, due to the Kitchen Incident That Shall Not Be Named).

As soon as Wukong had seen the purple jacket, he'd froze, before hastily turning away and running back inside his little house, claiming to have forgotten something.

MK had taken the jacket off and stuffed it into his bag by the time Wukong returned.

-

It was only after the Macaque fight that things became clear.

They'd been silent, watching the sunrise, and MK had started to doze off, leaning on his mentor's shoulder as he slowly started to fall asleep.

...Only to be jostled back into awareness as Wukong's shoulders shook with barely muffled coughs.

"Are you okay?" MK asked, lifting his head off of Wukong's shoulder and staring at the Monkey King with thinly veiled worry. Wukong leaned away from MK's gaze, a hand still covering his mouth.

He was too busy coughing to give a good response.

"If you broke a rib or something and didn't tell me I'm not going to be very impressed." MK deadpanned. Wukong shook his head 'no' in response, hand still over his mouth despite the fact his coughing fit had already died down. "Well, what is it then?"

MK waited as Wukong seemed to internally debate with himself.

And then the Monkey King slowly removed his hand from his mouth, revealing the petals that he had confined within his palm.

"Oh. Oh!" MK said, realization striking him as the dots connected in his mind. "Oh, you have terrible taste."

"I know..." Wukong groaned, placing his head in his hands, not caring about how this caused some of the petals to stick to his face and fur. MK giggled a little over how silly his mentor looked, Wukong glaring at him and sticking one of the petals onto his successor's cheek in response. MK made a noise of disgust as he wiped the petal off of his face.

Far away from the two of them, Macaque stumbled back into his dojo, nursing a new injury, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and holding crushed flower petals in his fist.

-

Well. Wukong could officially say that he'd never been in a situation like this before.

Tangled up and dangling from the Spider Queen's spiderweb, Wukong tried to distract himself from the feeling of being trapped, unable to move.... by doing his best to observe his surroundings.

There... sure were a lot of other demons here. He couldn't figure out if it was good or bad that he didn't recognize most of them.

Wait.

Wukong looked around the room again with narrowed eyes.

Could Spider Queen have also taken-

No.

Wukong couldn't see him anywhere, not to mention that the other monkey had always been concerned with his own safety first and foremost. He'd probably scrambled to get out of town at the first sign of trouble. Wukong wasn't going to find Macaque in here.

He wasn't sure why he'd even looked.

...And there was that warm, tickly feeling in the back of his throat again.

Wukong squirmed, trying to ignore the sensation for as long as possible. He even started humming, his go to method for repressing the petals, but it barely worked, and a small dose of panic started to overtake him. He had no way of covering up the petals that would come, his arms and hands pinned at his sides.

He would not let Spider Queen or the rest of her crew find out about this, not to mention....her.

(If the Lady Bone Demon found out about his Hanahaki... well, she already has enough leverage as it is. Wukong isn't about to hand over any more.)

And then there was Demon Bull King. Wukong wasn't entirely sure how his old friend, (ex-friend, he reminded himself), would react, and honestly he wasn't too keen on finding out.

Still though.

The flowers always win in the end.

Wukong did his best to duck his head into his shoulder, and hoped it would be enough as his chest was wracked with coughs.

-

The Demon Bull King was many things, but he was not, in fact, stupid.

He had been quick to notice the growing panic on Wukong's face, (really, the monkey hadn't even tried to hide it, either due to being lost in thought or because he thought nobody was paying close enough attention to notice), and had decided to watch and see what the Monkey King would do next.

He hadn't expected Wukong to turn his head to the side, doing his upmost best to silence his coughing fit.

He'd expected the flower petals even less.

"You, of all people, haven't gathered up the strength to confess?" Demon Bull King asked, startling Wukong right out of his coughing fit. "I did not take you to be a coward."

"I take offense to that." Wukong wheezed, a few more petals falling from his mouth as he spoke. "Besides, I remember you taking forever to confess to Princess Iron Fan-"

"I'm not the one who held my words in long enough for them to take root and bloom." Demon Bull King said, "Who is the object your affections anyways?"

"None of your business." Wukong said, once again squirming within the confines of the webs. Demon Bull King raised an eyebrow, before glancing down at the petals now littering the floor. The flowers typically would hint at who the afflicted had a crush on, but Demon Bull King was too far away to be able to tell what flowers the petals belonged to.

If he were to hazard a guess though...

"The Six Eared Macaque?" He asked, proceeding to find great amusement in how Wukong's fur stood on end, panic flashing on his face. "Ah, so I'm right then-"

"Shut up." Wukong hissed, his eyes flashing red. "Seriously, shut up. You can't tell anyone else about this-"

"Tell someone- I see flowers aren't the only nonsense your mouth spits out." Demon Bull King said. The red glow faded slightly from Wukong's eyes, as his expression shifted to confusion, with a small dash of hope.

"You... aren't going to tell anyone?" Wukong asked.

"And loose the precious blackmail material you have graced me with? Of course not!" Demon Bull King laughed, and Wukong sighed, sensing that somehow this would come back to bite him later.

-

Wukong forced his suitcase shut, trying to ignore the niggling feeling of guilt as MK stared at him, unimpressed. Okay, so maybe 'going on a vacation' wasn't the best excuse to use, but Wukong couldn't afford to waste any time coming up with a better one.

He was ready for MK to be worried about training.

He wasn't ready for Mk to be worried about him.

"...Will you be okay?" MK asked, "I mean, you seem to not want anyone to know about your Hanahaki, but if you're with friends then you'll be surrounded by other people at all times, so-"

"Oh, it'll be fine." Wukong said, waving MK's concerns away. "Besides, if the flowers act up, I'll just rip out my lungs."

"Please do not do that!" MK said, the horrified look on his face making Wukong chuckle.

"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad." He said, "I've done it before."

"That does not make it better!" MK said, looking like he was about to start ranting, and Wukong took that as his cue that it was time to go.

-

MK pushed the exit door open, stumbling a little as he rushed into the alley way.

"Ugh- why did you do-.....that......" He said, voice trailing off as he registered that the alley way was empty.

Well. Seemingly empty.

One quick check with his true sight later, (he wasn't going to be falling for any tricks again), and MK was holding a dumpster over his head, revealing the shadow monkey that had been crouched down, hiding behind it. Macaque glanced up, his scarf covering his mouth and his fur bristling in shock as MK set the dumpster off to the side.

"So much for you having been a great warrior, huh?" MK said, crossing his arms and staring down at Macaque with an unimpressed expression.

"Uh- ah, so you figured that out, did you? Maybe you aren't as dense as you look." Macaque said, voice slightly raspy, as he stood up, trying to pretend he wasn't just hiding behind a dumpster-

Only for his scarf to slip down a little, allowing some golden flower petals to fall out. Macaque made quick work of snatching them out of the air, crushing them in his grip as he hid them behind his back, tail swishing nervously, but it was too late.

MK had seen.

"...Oh. Oh!" MK said, feeling torn between screaming in frustration or laughing in amusement over what had just been revealed to him. "Oh, you have terrible taste."

"...I have no idea what you're talking about." Macaque said, sighing and breathing out a few more golden petals as he did so, completely unaware of how much this revelation had shaken MK's already very delicate mental state. "Seriously. I don't even know where you got the idea that I'm in love with someone or something like that, because I'm definitely not."

"I never said anything about you being in love." MK said, starting to lean more towards being amused at this entire situation as Macaque stiffened, his tail stilling. "I just said you had terrible taste- maybe I was implying your whole 'performance' with the shadow play back in the theatre was simply lackluster."

"I take offense to that." Macaque hissed, his shadow growing slightly bigger as his tail once again started to thrash back and forth, this time in anger. MK ignored this obvious attempt at intimidation for another question that was on his mind, a much more pressing one, in his opinion.

"You still haven't answered my question from earlier, why did you do that?" He asked, watching as Macaque took a minute to process the question, having not expected the sudden subject change.

"....Why did I do what- Oh! Why did I break the lantern, you mean?" Macaque said, suddenly avoiding eye contact, his hand twitching like he wanted to grab hold of the edge of his scarf as he chewed on the corner of his lip, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand. "Well, I was going to do the whole 'watch the hero get tormented by their inner demons and insecurities' thing like all the other villains, but you seem to already be doing that to yourself so- yeah. Didn't want to bother using my own expansive list of abilities when I could just lay back and watch the show you were already putting on for me."

"But I thought you wanted to be center stage, not in the audience. Y'know, because you want to steal the spotlight from Monkey King." MK said, raising an eyebrow as Macaque's hand finally grabbed the edge of his scarf, and he started fiddling with it nervously. "Or well, either that or you want to share a stage with him."

Something must have been brought to the forefront of Macaque's mind when MK said that, as suddenly he was turning away, using his scarf to cover his mouth as he coughed. MK remained standing in front of him, arms crossed, waiting patiently for the shadow monkey's response.

"I- I have no intention of shar- sharing a stage." Macaque eventually wheezed, pulling his scarf back down as he spoke so that he could be heard clearly. MK amusedly noted that he could see some golden petals peeking out from within the confines of the red cloth. "Not now, not before, and not ever."

"Ah, sure, keep telling yourself that." Mk said, staring pointedly at the flower petals.

Macaque flicked him on the forehead.

"Ow!" MK said, recoiling, a hand going to his forehead to try and numb the sting, his eyes closing reflexively as he leaned back. "Why would you do that for-"

MK paused, blinking bewilderedly, as he realized Macaque was no longer in front of him, seemingly having vanished entirely, having used MK's momentary distraction to fade away into the shadows, only a single left behind flower petal revealing that he had ever actually been there.

If MK had used his true sight again then and there, he would've found that Macaque was now resting on top of one of the nearby rooftops.

As it was though, his friends burst through into the alley way, prepped with questions he wasn't ready to answer.

(Later, Macaque would severely regret failing to remember to warn MK of the danger that was approaching him. But that would be later, and now he fully intended on sneaking back into the theatre to retrieve his shadow lantern...)

-

Life on the ship honestly wasn't all that bad. Sure, MK had lost all of his powers, and there was the ever looming threat of the Lady Bone Demon, but ignoring all of that important stuff?

Life on the ship was actually rather nice.

"You know what? I think I could actually get used to living like this." MK said, leaning against the railing of the ship, letting the wind rustle his hair. Wukong hummed in agreement, sitting on the railing beside his successor.

"...When all this is said and done, we should take a vacation." He said, "A real vacation. Together this time."

"Can I bring my friends with me?" MK wasn't so sure he could handle leaving the others behind after everything that had happened.

"Sure, go right ahead, if that's what you want." Wukong said, shrugging. MK visibly brightened, and an idea struck him.

"Oh- and you could bring your friends along too, you know, the ones I haven't met yet!" He said, and Wukong stiffened.

"....Uh.... about that..." He started, and MK's smile fell, replaced with a mixture of disappointment and concern.

"...You lied about the whole 'having other friends' thing, didn't you." He said, looking his mentor up and down before rolling out another accusation. "You're far lonelier that I thought you were."

"...Immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be, Kid." Wukong said, a sad, half-hearted smile on his face. MK tried to come up with a response, either a joke or maybe some comforting words (how do you even comfort an immortal, who has been through so much and had probably heard everything you could possibly say?)-

Only to be completely distracted as the ship was heavily rocked by something crashing into it. MK's grip tightened around the steel railing, steadying himself as he heard the others rush up to the deck, shouting in confusion. Out of the corner of his eye, MK could see Wukong scramble to keep himself from falling over the side of the ship. (Which MK had to admit was... strange. Wukong had his whole cloud sail thing, he could fly, why would he be concerned about falling off?)

The rocking stopped, the ship steadying itself, and MK could smell smoke. Cautiously and slowly, he turned around, mentally preparing himself for the possibility of an attack, brought about by the Lady Bone Demon or one of her 'followers' (demons, that she had entranced to think that they were getting a good deal out of this, when in reality all she was doing was using them, with the full intent to throw them aside once they had served their purpose).

MK expected the broken bits and pieces of another, smaller ship, some parts still burning (and really, they should deal with those fire before they became a bigger problem. Sandy seemed to be running to get the fire extinguisher, so hopefully there wouldn't be any fire induced explosions today).

What he hadn't been expecting (but in hindsight, really should have been), was to see Red Son, standing in the center of the debris, nervously dusting the dirt off of his jacket, with Macaque laying face down on the deck behind him.

-

Red Son was having a very long day. Or, well, it had been about three days, really, but that wasn't the point here.

He brushed the remaining ship debris off of himself, making himself more 'presentable' while also purposefully prolonging the amount of time he could go without meeting the questioning gazes of MK and his friends.

Catching sight of the monkey still laying on the ground behind him, he turned and nudged Macaque with his foot.

"You really aren't making a good impression here." Red Son hissed, under his breath, knowing that the other's exceptional hearing meant that he could easily hear him.

"There truthfully isn't a good impression to be made." Macaque said, voice muffled by both the deck and his scarf, as he continued to lay face down, making no move to get up. "Not to mention, I'm feeling a little... singed, at the moment. Not everyone is as fire proof as you are, you- you hot headed fool."

The shadow monkey had, overall, been a great help in escaping from the Lady Bone Demon's dungeons, but Red Son wasn't past the point of kicking him in the side. Hard.

Macaque yelped in pain, curling up a little as though to shield himself, but continued to not even try to get up.

Red Son was unfortunately stopped from kicking the monkey again as he was tapped on the shoulder. Turning around, he found himself face to face with MK and Mei, their expressions completely neutral.

"Ah- Hello, Noodle Boy, Dragon Girl." Red Son said, politely nodding to each of them, trying to ignore his own nervousness (he did not feel like getting thrown off a ship today, thank you very much). MK and Mei said nothing, and Red Son began to wonder for a moment if crashing into their ship twice was somehow crossing a line.

But then both of them smiled, and Red Son braced himself just in time as Mei tackle-hugged him, MK laughing as he watched her do so.

"Wow, you really don't have much luck with vehicles and driving, on the ground or in the air, huh?" MK said, pushing a piece of debris from the miniature ship Red Son had flown in to the side with his foot. "Seriously, it's a wonder you ever managed to pass a driving test with skills like this."

"A driving what?" Red Son asked, immediately regretting it as both MK and Mei fixed him with a look of complete and utter horror.

"Oh heavens." Mei breathed, her grip on Red Son's shoulders growing almost uncomfortably tight. "You entered a race without knowing how to drive."

-

Too loud.

It was far, far too loud.

Still though, it was much better than being trapped down in the Lady Bone Demon's cold, dark, and desolate dungeons.

Or, at least, that is what Macaque thought to himself, even as he subtly pulled his scarf up over his ears, trying and failing miserably to block out the rumble of the engine, the hiss of the fires from the remains of their ship, the hushed whispers from Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy, and the trio's argument about Red Son's apparently non-existent drivers license.

(If he had known Red Son had never really, truly learned how to drive, Macaque wouldn't have let him pilot their escape ship.

...Albeit, Macaque himself wasn't all that much better, having had no idea as to what over half of the buttons in the ship were actually for.

Still though, he would have at least tried to land a perfect landing, instead of going all out on making sure they, quote, 'crashed in style', like what a certain hot tempered demon did.

Seriously Red Son. What the fuck.)

It took a few more minutes of laying there, trying to block everything out, before he realized that, over the roar of the engines and the trio's arguing, he couldn't hear where Wukong was.

...Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

Macaque stiffened as a warm hand landed on his shoulder, its grip alternating between being soothing soft and threateningly tight.

"...Macaque?" Wukong's voice asked, and Macaque felt the unfortunately all too familiar twinge in both his chest and throat.

Ah. It was definitely a bad thing then.

-

Wukong pulled his hand back as Macaque abruptly stood up, stumbling away from him and towards the side of the ship. For a moment, Wukong genuinely wondered if Macaque planned to just jump off the ship, despite the fact that they were thousands of miles above ground.

But Macaque simply grabbed hold of the railing, leaning slightly over it, his shoulders shaking.

"What's the matter, are you sea sick already?" Mei asked, noticing Macaque's movement. "Or, wait, would it be air sick? Meh, it's probably the same thing..."

Macaque gave no response other than raising his hand to flip her off, which simply made her cackle like a mad man. Wukong would've walked right on over to him and smacked the shadow monkey for the rude gesture-

That is, if he hadn't been already preoccupied with covering up the petals his concern for the other had caused him to start coughing up.

Unseen by either of them, MK glanced back and forth between the two monkeys, seeing how Wukong tucked the petals into the pocket of his shirt, and spotting a few golden ones fluttering away from Macaque, carried by the wind. MK sighed, ignoring how Mei and Red Son, the two closest to him who had noticed his reaction, looked at him in confusion.

It was going to be a really long trip.

-

Macaque stirred a bowl full of cake mix, deeply lost in his thoughts.

You see, being stuck in a ship, thousands of miles up in the air, surrounded by people, especially MK and the others, was a very stressful situation to be in. And unlike back at his dojo, Macaque didn't exactly have any training dummies to take said stress out on.

So, he naturally defaulted to another, less violent technique.

Stress baking.

Macaque had waited patiently in the shadows until Pigsy had left the kitchen to join the others up on the deck, and then had promptly taken over the entire room.

...He wasn't sure why he decided to make a chocolate cake though. He had really just been going through the motions, using the first thing he saw or what was directly in front of him, not feeling like putting in the effort to really search for anything else.

Well, at least thus far only MK had stumbled upon him like this, and the Monkey King's successor had been easily chased away by a purple glare and a hissed threat.

'...Although...' Macaque thought, stirring slowing down slightly as he heard footsteps coming down the hallway, approaching him. 'Maybe saying that I was poisoning everything in the kitchen wasn't the best choice of threat.'

He very nearly dropped the bowl when Wukong entered the room.

"So." Wukong said, leaping up onto the counter and sitting down, cross-legged. "Poison, huh?"

Well. He might as well go along with it. No use in changing his excuse now.

"Yep." Macaque said, taking the spoon out of the bowl as he gestured at the room. "I'm so one hundred percent done with all of you, so I have decided to poison all of you. Finally get rid of the noise, have a bit of peace, you know?"

As he said this, he made the mistake of putting the spoon within Wukong's reach.

The Monkey King, spurred by nothing but his own impulsivity, leaned forwards and casually licked the edge of the spoon.

Macaque pulled the utensil back at record breaking speeds (he avoided putting it back into the bowl, he knew far better than to do that) and proceeded to stare at Wukong with the most offended expression he could manage.

Wukong completely ignored it.

"Your 'poison' happens to taste an awful lot like chocolate." He said, taking a glance around the kitchen, noting all the ingredients on the kitchen island, before looking Macaque up and down. "...Stress baking?"

"Poison." Macaque corrected, glaring at the other as he got a new spoon to stir with. "I'm making poison."

"...Poison for yourself, maybe." Wukong said, looking thoughtful, "If I remember right, you can't eat chocolate, can you?"

Macaque didn't bother to grace him with a response, instead turning his back to the other monkey, continuing to mix more ingredients into the bowl. It was blessedly silent for a while, but-

With Wukong sitting right behind him, watching his every move, even stress baking wasn't able to help Macaque relax.

Not to mention the flowers in his chest that were once again begging to make themselves known.

Macaque forced the flurry of emotions and petals back down as much as he could. He flicked an ear, listening behind him.

Wukong was still there. Why was he still there-

Macaque slammed the bowl down on the kitchen island, barely avoiding chipping it, and taking brief pleasure in how he could hear the Wukong's breath catch, before the Monkey King descended into a small coughing fit, probably from surprise at the shadow monkey's sudden movements. Macaque turned back around to face Wukong, crossing his arms over his chest as he did so.

"What do you want from me?" He hissed, his tail swishing back and forth from agitation. Wukong's tail swished too, but Macaque could tell that his was a sign of nervousness.

"Ah, oh nothing." Wukong said, his hands behind his back as his legs swayed back and forth over the counter. "Just making sure you don't actually decide to poison anything."

"If I had poison, you and I both know that I would have used it already." Macaque said, "I don't even think there's anything I could even use as poison on this ship."

"...Point taken." Wukong said, leaning forwards and resting his chin on his right hand.

(He kept his other hand tucked in behind his back. Macaque did pick up on Wukong seemingly acting suspicious, but was far too focused on trying to get the Monkey King out of the kitchen to actually think much of it.

Something that Wukong was extremely grateful for, as it gave him the time to actually hide the crushed flower petals in his palm within one of his pockets.)

"Um, so uh, how do you know if the kid and the others are all okay?" Macaque asked, deciding to try a new tactic of getting Wukong out of the kitchen, hoping that the Monkey King's stupid over-protectiveness would prompt him to leave the room, which would let Macaque finally bake in peace.

"Oh, I left a hair clone with them." Wukong said, and Macaque slumped, his hopes dashed. "...Say, on a different subject, how do you know if it tastes good?"

"Huh?" Macaque asked, befuddled for a moment before remembering the cake bowl on the table behind him. "Oh- the cake? Well, I don't know really, usually I just sell it or something... Not that I really do this often, mind you! This isn't- I don't- I'm- wait. You want to taste test it more, to get free samples, don't you?"

Wukong simply gave a non-commital shrug, but the smirk on his face gave his intentions away. Macaque sighed wearily, before pulling a smaller spoon out of a nearby drawer with his tail, scooping a bit of cake batter into it, and tossing the spoon at Wukong, mentally willing the utensil to hit the Monkey King smack dab on the forehead.

The utensil, unfortunately, did not, in fact, obey Macaque's wills, as Wukong caught it with ease, and started licking the cake batter off of it, his tail wagging happily.

Macaque bit the inside of his cheek, nearly drawing blood as he used the pain to push the flowers in his throat back down, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he realized just how... cute the other looked in the current moment.

...No, nope, absolutely not-

Macaque spun back around, throwing himself entirely into the task of mixing the last of the ingredients together, and doing his upmost best to ignore the monkey sitting behind him.

Wukong's incessant humming was absolutely not helping in any way shape or form.

Things continued on, Macaque making the cake and occasionally tossing a batter covered spoon over his shoulder so that Wukong could taste it.

(Macaque silently told himself that he was doing it in the hopes that Wukong would become satisfied and leave, already-

But, deep down, he knew it was just because he liked seeing the other monkey happy.)

Macaque dumped the cake batter into a pan, setting the now empty mixing bowl off to the side before shoving the pan into the oven, and setting a small timer.

When he looked back over to where he had placed the mixing bowl, fully intent on washing it and proceeding to use it to make some icing, the bowl was gone.

"What the-" He started, looking around bewildered, before realizing what must have happened.

Sure enough, Wukong had the bowl on his lap, and was using a spoon to scrape the remaining cake batter out of it, to eat.

"...It's not like you were gonna use it anymore... right?" Wukong asked, almost looking sheepish as he realized Macaque was staring at him, and he curled around the bowl protectively.

Macaque glared at him, using his magic to make his eyes flash purple and make the room grow slightly darker.

"Get out of my kitchen before I retract my truce card and cash in on punching you in the face." He threatened.

Although the threat didn't hold much weight (Macaque would probably end up breaking his hand punching Wukong before he could ever hope to actually injure the other) Wukong still scrambled to get out of the room, taking the bowl and spoon with him as he went.

As Wukong rushed pass Macaque in his haste to leave, their tails lightly brushed together.

And that was the last straw for Macaque, who, once he was sure the other was gone, hurried to turn on the sink to cover up the sound of his coughing.

'..........Stupid monkey....' Macaque thought, leaning over the sink and watching flour and flowers go down the drain.

-

MK found Wukong in the hallway, with petals falling out of both the Monkey King's pocket and his mouth. He seemed to be spacing out, lost within his own thoughts.

He was still carrying the mixing bowl.

"...So I take it you didn't confess to Macaque?" MK asked, sounding almost disappointed.

"What- no- why on Earth would I confess?" Wukong asked, snapping out of his reverie. MK merely shrugged in response, but mentally he cursed.

'I was so sure that baking together would settle this whole mess once and for all.' He thought, watching as Wukong balance his bowl in one hand and softly rubbed a spot on his tail with the other. 'I guess it's back to the drawing board...

....Maybe the others would have some ideas?'

-

"How to get someone with Hanahaki to confess?" Tang asked, setting his book to the side. "MK, you know that's not really a thing you can force, I mean, look at how long it took Pigsy and I-"

"I know, I know, the both of you have told me about your confession, and how long it took to get there, multiple times." MK said, rolling his eyes. "But like, this is worse than you guys, which honestly, before now I didn't think it was possible, but. This has been going on for centuries."

"...I feel like there's a majorly important piece of information I'm missing here." Tang said, leaning forwards with renewed interest. "Who, exactly, has Hanahaki?"

MK paused, debating for a moment on whether or not he should actually tell him.

But, well, it was kind of obvious, and he seriously needed help getting the two of them together, so-

"Monkey King and Macaque." MK said, before adding, for clarification; "Both of them have it. For each other."

"Oh. Oh, that makes so much sense." Tang said, sounding as though pieces of a centuries old puzzle had magically connected right before his eyes. "...I'm sorry though, I can't help you."

"...Oh. Okay, I'll just ask someone else then-"

"However. I am not opposed to starting a betting pool."

-

"Hanahaki? Why would I know anything about Hanahaki?" Red Son asked, sounding oddly nervous as MK stood in the door way to his room. "...Why are you even asking me about it anyways?"

"Because Monkey King and Macaque have been pining for centuries, even back during the Journey to the West if the stories from Mei's great grandfather are to be believed, and while I've only been witness to a small portion of it, and I guess it's kinda been amusing, I am so done with it, like-" MK waved his hands around in frustration. "Why won't they just confess already?!"

"...I'm....sure they have their reasons." Red Son said, "What... did Mei say, about this, exactly?"

"Oh, she just laughed when I told her about it, and then cemented her place in the betting pool." MK said.

"There's a betting- Noodle Boy, why didn't you start with the betting pool?!"

-

Red Son had, in fact, already known about Macaque's Hanahaki.

That kind of thing was a little hard to miss when you're locked up in a cell with someone for an extended period of time.

Finding out Wukong also had Hanahaki came as a little bit of a surprise (though, really, now that he knew about it, it was kind of obvious, but as they say, 20/20 hindsight-).

Outside of making bets though, Red Son was mostly content to just sit back and watch the two monkeys stumble around each other. Sure, he did think their inability to confess made them cowards, but.

At least MK was too wrapped up in his frustration over the monkeys drama to notice the fire demon coughing up smoke and petals behind him.

-

Wukong slowly sneaked into the room, as quietly as he possibly could. Staying low to the ground, he tip toed over to the shelf, cautiously reaching up-

Only for someone to grab a hold of his hand, stopping him from reaching his prize. A nearby lamp flicked on, and Wukong looked up to see Sandy intently staring down at him.

"...Hi." Wukong said, laughing nervously as he slipped his hand out of Sandy's grip. "Um. I totally wasn't sneaking around or anything, I was just... sleep walking?"

"...I see." Sandy said, reaching over and taking one of the tea tins off of the shelf. "In that case, this one right here will do wonders to improve your sleep-"

"Ah, oh, no thank you, it's fine, I can handle it." Wukong said, subtly scanning the shelf of teas, slumping slightly when he couldn't seem to find the one that he wanted. Upon seeing the monkey's dejected face, Sandy sighed.

"Is this what you were looking for?" He asked, pulling a tin of tea out from behind his back. Wukong looked at it in shock.

"How'd you-" He started.

"It was just a lucky guess." Sandy said, setting the tin in Wukong's waiting hands. "Use it sparingly though, I'm running a little low on supplies right now. Oh, and be careful with the side effects, okay? Stop taking it if anything seriously bad starts to happen."

"...Thank you." Wukong said, pocketing the tea tin and turning to leave Sandy's room.

"Oh, one more thing." Sandy said, causing Wukong to pause mid-step. "The next time you try sneaking around in the dark, use a stronger glamour over your eyes. The glow seriously gives you away."

"...Duly noted."

-

It smelled like smoke.

That was the first thing Macaque noticed as he stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the storage room. Immediately, he tensed up, his fur standing on end. After all, where there was smoke, there was usually fire as well. And although Macaque would never, never admit it... he wasn't exactly the most... fond of fire.

(A capture hero, trapped and unaware.

A burning mountain, the air choked by smoke.

And an abandoned warrior, trying desperately to escape the mountain's flames.)

But... Macaque couldn't hear any of the noises that usually accompanied something burning. Instead all he could hear was someone's slightly irregular heart beat, and their wheezing breaths.

Macaque forced himself to walk forwards, curiosity starting to over power his caution.

He rounded the shelf of boxes just in time to see Red Son cough out more smoke, along with a few burnt petals.

Macaque paused, knowing the other had yet to actually see him, as he pondered what to do next. His hands twitched towards the edge of his scarf, but he kept himself frozen.

On the one hand, he could just turn around and leave before Red Son could even notice him. As was said before, Macaque was truly not very fond of fire, and despite having spent at least two days trapped with the fire demon, Macaque hadn't really gotten over his general...wariness of him.

On the other hand though, now that he'd seen the other demon, Macaque's curiosity was peaked.

...Well, they say curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, so-

"Who's it for?" Macaque asked, chuckling a little to himself as Red Son startled, finally noticing the other's presence.

"What?" He asked, looking at the shadow monkey in shock and confusion.

"Your Hanahaki." Macaque elaborated, "Who is it for, Mei or MK?"

Red Son remained silent for another moment, blinking in confusion, before the question, along with what was currently happening, seemed to register within his brain, and a furious blush over took his face, a few sparks flying off of him.

(At the sight of said sparks, Macaque took a hesitant step back, glancing around for anything that was possibly flammable.

Red Son was far too wrapped up within his own emotions to notice the monkey's anxiety.)

He sputtered for a moment, struggling and failing to come up with a proper response.

"...Both. It's, It's both of them." He eventually muttered under his breath, avoiding eye contact with Macaque as he shyly rubbed his arm.

"What was that? Sorry, I didn't hear you the first time, could you say that again?" Macaque said, not at all surprised by this new development and instantly deciding that now was the perfect opportunity to mess with the fire demon.

"You damn well did hear me and we both know it." Red Son said, shifting from flustered to angry in the blink of an eye.

...Macaque outright laughed at hm.

"Oh, oh, like you're one to laugh." Red Son said, "I know all about your thing for Monkey King. You're in the same boat as I am, both literally and figuratively."

"...Okay, first of all, we are in an airship, not a boat." Macaque said, leaning 'casually' against a wall of supply boxes. "Secondly- I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"Why haven't you confessed yet?" Red Son said, moving on with his line of thinking and completely ignoring the shadow monkey's denial.

"Conf- I, I could ask you the exact same question!" Macaque said, caught off guard before pulling himself together and recovering. "Why haven't you confessed?"

"I, am simply waiting for the right time. I'm planning a big romantic gesture, I'll have you know." Red Son said, "You, on the other hand, are simply being a pining idiot."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Macaque denied yet again, a slight growl making it's way into his voice as his eyes flashed purple.

Red Son wasn't impressed.

"Your pitiful attempts at denial and intimidation have little to no effect on me." He said, "Seriously, just admit that you're in love with Monkey King already. Pretty much everyone else already knows about it."

"...I won't say I'm in love."

"Do not start the random musical numbers again, you already did it far too many times when we were trapped together in that cell, and if I have to bear one more minute of it I will not hesitate to toss you overboard."

-

The tea was bitter.

Very bitter.

Still though, it tasted leagues better than weed killer, which had been a not very well though through experience that Wukong never ever wanted to repeat.

And the tea worked better too, repressing, the flowers better than humming or the previously stated weed killer ever could.

Still though, there was a reason as to why Wukong had never opted to try this method before.

Said reason, of course, being the side effects.

He sighed, staring at how there were now purple flecks within his red eyes. Nothing that his usual glamours couldn't cover, but his magic was dwindling fast. He would have to start cutting a few corners soon if he didn't want to end up completely and utterly powerless, and the glamours concealing his height and eye colour would probably end up having to be the first ones to go.

Other than that though, it was concerning that the eye colour change was happening so soon, not to mention the speed at which it was progressing. A change in eye colour was the most common starting side effect of repressing Hanahaki, after that... things start to tend to become strange and rather unpredictable. The list of side effects caused by repressing Hanahaki was miles long, and was always having new things added to it- the reaction seemed to always depend on the person.

Basically, Wukong had literally no idea of what the side effect would be for him, nor how he could prepare for them.

And, of course, this meant he wouldn't be able to know how to hide them either.

-

When Wukong woke up the next morning and found that his eyes had already turned fully purple, a faint sense of unease settled itself over him like how a morning mist settles in a forest. He supposed he should've expected this to happen quick, he was repressing thousands of years of pining after all, but still, he hadn't been expecting it to progress this fast....

He felt fine though, nothing different than usual. (He did feel a bit weaker, but that had already been happening before the tea. No, that was something else.) For a moment he wondered if his immortality had made him completely immune to any possible side effects, but immediately shot that idea down, as if that had been the case, his eyes wouldn't have changed colour at all.

Wukong exited his room, throwing his usual glamours back on just in case, and made his way to the ship's kitchen as quietly as possible, he'd awoken a bit earlier than usual this morning, and didn't want to accidentally wake any of the others up.

Warming up the kettle and taking the tea tin out of the pocket (he sadly noted that it was almost empty already), he carefully followed the instructions on the side of the tin, not wanting to mess anything up and risk the tea not working.

A few minutes later, and Wukong sat at the kitchen table, spacing out a little as he slowly sipped his Hanahaki Repressing Tea.

He was starting to almost fall asleep in his chair when Pigsy entered the kitchen.

"Morning." Pigsy greeted, looking Wukong up and down with a mix of worry and suspicion. "You're not usually up this early, is something wrong?"

'No, I'm fine, perfectly fine.' Was what Wukong wanted to say.

Instead though, no sound left his mouth at all.

Oh.

Oh shit.

-

It wasn't every day that someone say Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, speechless.

Today, however, seemed to be one of the days where he was.

Pigsy watched as Wukong's mouth clicked shut, panic briefly flashing across his face before being replaced with an easily recognizable nervous smile as the monkey drew his tea cup closer to himself, as though to hide it. Pigsy rolled his eyes, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from Wukong, immediately noticing how the monkey avoided eye contact entirely.

"Experiencing the side effects, huh?" Pigsy asked, "Don't give me that surprised look. Even if Sandy hadn't told me about you taking the tea, you're being rather obvious right now."

Wukong visibly winced at that, sipping his tea again.

"How exactly do you plan to get through the day without being able to talk huh?" Pigsy asked, leaning forwards slightly. "Surely you must have some plan prepared."

Wukong started to shake his head no, to show that he didn't, in fact, have any plan here, but then he paused, looking thoughtful.

A sudden pang ran through Pigsy's mind, and he gripped the sides of his head, looking down at the table as he winced, trying to collect himself, feeling as though he'd been set off balance.

"-an you hear me?" Wukong's voice was faint and echoey, before growing stronger. "Can you hear me? Hello-"

"Yes I can fucking hear you." Pigsy said, looking back up, and proceeding to be almost shocked (but at the same time really not) to find that there were now two Wukong's sitting across from him. The new Wukong was obviously Wukong's golden astral projection form, as it perfectly matched how MK had described it.

Or well, it almost matched perfectly...

"Oh, good." Wukong said, via astral connection, "I wasn't sure this would work, but since it does I can just talk to the others like this-"

"Does this form of yours normally look like.... well, that?" Pigsy asked, interrupting.

"...What?" Wukong took a moment to analyze his astral form.

Unlike MK's description of it being 'Monkey King but in gold, like a shiny pokemon', Wukong currently had three tails, one pink, one red, and one purple. Said colours were also splashed all over his astral body, almost giving him a sunset-like appearance.

"...Huh. That's new." Wukong said, "I guess the side effects go deeper than I thought."

"Is this something we should be more concerned about?" Pigsy asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, no, it's fine. At least, it's far better compared to everything else. Maybe. Probably." Wukong said, the nervous smile on both his real self and his astral self growing slightly bigger.

"...Everything else? Probably?" Pigsy questioned, sitting up straighter with worry.

"...Ah, you weren't meant to hear that part." Wukong said, wincing. "Which I suppose that means it's time for me to go-"

"Hey, wait-" Pigsy started, but didn't manage to get any words out as Wukong abruptly closed the astral connection, before standing up and leaving the room faster than the other could ever hope to follow. Pigsy sighed as he caught the barest glimpse of Wukong's tail going out the door.

That damn monkey was definitely going to need a serious intervention one of these days.

-

"Monkey King this is an intervention." MK said, crossing his arms as he tried to do his best impersonation of one of Tang's infamous glares. He assumed he failed miserably, given Mei's muffled snickering, but Wukong at least shrunk down sheepishly, so he must've been doing something right.

MK sighed as a pang ran through his head, having expected it- before blinking in shock at the astral image that now stood before him.

"Why do I need an intervention? I'm perfectly fine." Wukong said, both his real self and his astral self smiling nervously- and the three other astral copies of him mimicked the motion. One was pink, one was purple, and one was red. They were each surrounded by a faint golden glow, and were each connected to the main golden astral version of Wukong by their tails.

"You- you are definitely not fine!" MK shouted, still having not recovered from the shock, and wasn't given any more time to try and process what he was seeing as the three bonus Wukong's started speaking.

"Shit." The red one hissed, frustration in his voice. "Fuck." (MK blinks, shocked to hear any version of his mentor swear, and immediately decides to smack Wukong on the arm the next time his mentor tries to reprimand him for swearing.)

"At least he's learning how to read people better, now he won't get tricked as easily." The pink one said, sounding almost....proud?

"I won't be able to trick him anymore either- He's catching on. He's starting to catch on now-" The purple one said, panicked. "I need to lie, lie lie lie-"

"Once again, I don't know what you're talking about." The golden, normal Wukong insisted, seemingly ignorant to the existence of the others.

MK had, of course, set up this intervention to talk about how Wukong tended to repress his emotions, (specifically those concerning a certain shadow monkey), but he definitely hadn't been prepared for... whatever all this is.

"Are you fucking seeing this?" He asked Mei.

"I'm not seeing shit." Mei said, wrapping her arm around MK's shoulder and lightly knocking their heads together, as though doing so would transfer the images that MK was seeing into her own brain.

"Language." All four astral Wukong's said, in perfect unison, and MK reached over and smacked the real Wukong on the arm for his hypocrisy.

The hastily put together intervention steadily went downhill from that point forwards, Mei complaining about not having been let in to the Astral Connection, and Wukong closing said connection the instant that MK had revealed the existence of the astral copies to him. The Monkey King had left the room rather swiftly after that, and MK sighed, for what seemed to be the millionth time since he'd found out about his mentor's Hanahaki.

He would have to do a much better, and much more well put together intervention next time.

-

Wukong ended up running out of tea the next day.

On the one hand, this was a good thing, as it meant he would only have to wait a day or so for the side effects to finally wear off, and he could go back to actually speaking again.

But on the other hand, this meant that he'd be back to coughing up flowers again, much, much sooner than he would like.

Wukong sighed, leaning against the railing of the ship, watching the sunset. He could probably jump off the ship and find the materials needed to make the tea himself, but without his cloud sail, it would certainly cost him precious time.

Time that he currently absolutely could not waste.

So he resigned himself to what would have to happen, and tried to mentally prepare himself for the flowers that would return within the next twenty four hours.

.....For some reason, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched....

-

In his many years of having known Wukong, Macaque had never seen him be quiet.

But he sure was quiet now, leaning against the ship railing, peacefully watching the sun as it dipped below the horizon.

(The fading colours of the sun reflected perfectly off of Wukong's fur, covering the other in golds, red, purples, and pinks, and overall making him look really pre-

No, nope, Macaque absolutely could not think about that right now, if he started coughing up flowers here and now it was sure to be noticed, and he absolutely couldn't have that happen.)

Macaque really wanted to consider the silence a blessing, finally, a break from the seemingly endless amount of chitter-chatter-

But instead, he couldn't help but feel worried.

Sliding back down to hide behind the crate he'd been sitting on before Wukong had come out onto the deck twenty minutes ago, Macaque lightly chewed on the edge of his scarf, thinking.

Option one: he waltzes over there, throws on a Perfect Smile, and asks Wukong what's wrong. Maybe he could even throw in a jab or two, or say it sarcastically in order to hide his very real concern.

Option two: he sneaks past Wukong, reenters the ship, and hides out inside of his room until he feels confident enough that these stupid emotions have passed.

Macaque was just deciding on option two- when the shadows surrounding him shifted.

Glancing up, he found that Wukong was now holding the crate the shadow monkey had been hiding behind over his head, and was staring down at him, unimpressed.

"...Hi?" Macaque said, letting the edge of his scarf fall out of his mouth and glamouring away any sign that he'd been chewing on it in the first place. "Um. Fancy meeting you here?"

If possible, Wukong's unimpressed look deepened.

"I was- I was here first, I'll have you know." Macaque said, hurriedly standing up, brushing non-existent dirt off of his clothes. "I don't really appreciate you encroaching on my personal space."

Wukong's expression did not waver, but he did set the crate down to the side, so at least Macaque no longer had to worry about having it be thrown at him. Still though, Wukong continued to stare, so maybe he wasn't out of the woods yet.

"So uh, what's with the whole silent act, huh?" Macaque asked, trying his best to be nonchalant about it. He hoped the response would be something meaningless, like a silly little bet or something along those lines.

He didn't expect to receive no verbal response at all, with Wukong's expression shifting away from unimpressed to something Macaque immediately identified as nervous.

Which....probably meant that this really was something to be concerned about.

Which probably also meant that asking any more about it would eventually result in some kind of long, emotional talk, which absolutely was not Macaque's forte.

...Well, he'd been planning to go with option number two from the beginning, so-

"Welp, this was a nice talk." Macaque said, "But, unfortunately, I have some other stuff that need to be tended to so.... bye!"

And with that, Macaque awkwardly flashed a peace sign, before falling down into the shadows, reappearing within the comforts of his own room. Deciding that he'd definitely had enough for one day, he crawled into his bed, pulling the covers over his head and trying his best to banish any thoughts of Wukong from his mind as he fell asleep.

-

He'd tried to sleep.

Really, he'd tried.

But after his third petal coughing fit of the night (courtesy of his brain refusing to forget how beautiful Wukong looked in the light of the sunset), Macaque gave up.

Which was why he was currently sitting on the couch, staring at the shadows on the wall, letting his mind play tricks on himself, making it seem like the darkness was moving.

He startled when he heard the sound of someone walking down the hallway.

Macaque wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been up for, but something told him that it was still far too early for even the early-risers to be up and about.

It was at the exact moment that someone sluggishly entered the room that Macaque remembered his glamours were down, and he tensed, knowing it was far too late and that he was far too tired to throw them on now.

He relaxed ever so slightly once he realized that the one who had entered the room had seen him glamourless multiple times before.

...Still though. What was Wukong doing up so late?

"...Got nightmares? I hope they're all about me." Macaque said, almost instantly cringing at the words coming out of his mouth, wanting to take them back and shove them into whatever sleep deprived corner of his mind they had come from.

Funnily enough though, Wukong didn't react at all, there wasn't even a small twitch of the ear or tilt of the head to even indicate that the other had even heard him.

There was a beat of silence, and Macaque chewed on the edge of his scarf, distracting himself from the awkwardness of it all by focusing on the sounds of the ship at night.

The beeping of the autopilot, the whir of the engines, the quiet sleeping sounds of the others, Wukong's steady, slow heart beat...

His.... slow heart beat...

"Oh" Macaque breathed, his voice partially muffled as he still had part of his scarf in his mouth. "You're sleep walking."

A contradictory mixture of concern and relief flooded through him at this realization. For a moment he just sat there, watching as Wukong continued to sluggishly make his way around the room.

And then Wukong bumped into the edge of the coffee table, and Macaque got up in record time, ready to catch the other if he fell-

Only to pull himself back as Wukong righted himself, still fast asleep. Macaque sighed, sitting back down on the couch. Why had he even been worried? There was literally nothing to worry about here, Wukong was literally invulnerable, he'd be fine. This was fine.

He rescinded that thought when Wukong suddenly turned, slowly but surely making his way towards Macaque. The shadow monkey watched the other's approach warily, stiffening when Wukog clumsily crawled onto the couch beside him.

Macaque stayed as still as possible, practically frozen, and partially hoping Wukong would get back up and sleep walk his way back to his own bed.

That, of course, didn't happen, and Macaque barely bit back a gasp, the edge of his scarf falling from his mouth to rest on his lap, as Wukong's tail found and curled around Macaque's own.

'Okay.' Macaque thought, feeling the flowers surge within his chest, as well as a faint tingling sensation covering most of his body (it had been a while, since he'd had any positive affection). 'Okay. I can handle this.'

And then Wukong leaned against him, his head resting on Macaque's shoulder.

'I can not handle this.'

-

When Wukong woke up in the early morning, the first thing he noticed was that he was not, in fact, in his bedroom.

'Ah. I slept walked again.' He thought, wincing, slowly pushing himself up. '...At least I didn't collapse in the middle of the hallway or inside of MK's room this time...'

The second thing he noticed was fabric sliding off of him, landing in a pool on the floor.

Leaning over and picking it up, he instantly identified it as Macaque's scarf.

He'd. Been sleeping while curled around Macaque's scarf.....

Almost immediately, he started coughing, purple petals falling from his mouth.

'Well. There goes the last effects of the tea.'

(When Macaque opened his door later on in the after noon, he would find his scarf sitting on the floor in front of him, perfectly folded.

He would find a singular purple petal within it upon unfolding it, but immediately dismiss it as being unimportant.)

-

"Why is it a forest, why did the engine need to malfunction and land us in a forest." Macaque complained, laying in the shadow of a tree, staring up into the branches as though the tree would give him an answer.

"Hey, it's better than a mountain." Wukong said, setting down a glass of lemonade beside the other monkey, before turning to hand another one off to Tang. (Pigsy had, for reasons unknown, made Wukong act as his waiter for the day. Nobody was quite sure why, and from the way Wukong glared whenever the subject was brought up, they figured it was best not to ask). "Can you hear how MK and the others are doing though, they've been gone for a while..."

"Why don't you just use your cloud to go check on them?" Macaque groaned, but still did what had been asked of him, tilting his head to the side, listening intently. After a moment, he was able to pin point the trio's voices. As for what they were saying....

Macaque smirked.

"They're fine." He said, "Although, they might be another few minutes before they come back."

When the trio came out of the forest wearing flower crowns, Macaque mentally cheered.

(After somebody with Hanahaki confesses, the flowers need somewhere to go. Usually they simply pop out of the ground around the person who has confessed.

It was a popular tradition to make and wear flower crowns using said flowers if your love was reciprocated.)

"Oh, did Red Son finally confess?" Tang asked, "We've been waiting on that for like. Ever."

"Oh heavens- Was I the only one who didn't know?" MK said, hiding his face in his hands.

"Oh no, I don't think Monkey King here knew either." Sandy said, lightly patting Wukong on the head. Wukong had been adorned with a look of utter shock since the trio had returned, but now he finally broke out of his surprise, and before the trio could even think to move, Wukong had grabbed hold of them, lifting them up a little in an excited hug.

"Oh my gosh- I'm so happy for you!" He said, only putting them down as Red Son started struggling. "We've- we've gotta throw a party- Pigsy can we throw a party-"

Macaque rolled his eyes, blocking out the current party planning, going back to staring at the sky through the tree branches.

"...Macaque."

Macaque looked over to see Red Son standing beside him.

"...Yes?" Macaque asked.

"...I'm braver than you are."

"What the fuck does that mean-"

-

Of course, Wukong had ended up deciding that they couldn't have the party on the ship. For some reason or another, he was utterly convinced that this party had to be big, which, of course, meant that there had to be a large space to hold it in.

...Had the situation been different, he would've brought everyone to Flower Fruit Mountain.

As it was, he found the next best thing.

"How the fuck did you know about my family hide out?" Red Son asked, watched as Wukong knocked three times on the door.

"You forget I was friends with your father, Red Boy." Wukong said, sending Red Son a smirk. "Oh, and watch your language."

The rest of the group stood slightly behind them, some of them prepared to run away if, somehow, this went awry.

Luckily enough, they didn't have to worry. Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan took the fact that Red Son was now dating his former enemies surprisingly well, and were fully willing to let them use the base to hold a party.

Wukong, surprisingly enough, ended up being the one to regret the decision to come here, the realization that maybe he had made a mistake hitting when Demon Bull King grabbed him by the back of his scarf, lifting him into the air. Wukong went slack immediately, knowing that struggling would be futile.

"The rest of you can keep sorting things out." Demon Bull King said, "I would like to have a few.... words with the simian."

And with that he turned, walking out of the room and bringing Wukong with him.

-

Demon Bull King entered a smaller room, reaching and closing the door behind him as he did so. Unceremoniously, he let go of Wukong's scarf and let the monkey drop down to the floor. Wukong let out an 'oof' as he hit the solid concrete.

"Ow." He hissed, glaring up at Demon Bull King. "Ya could have been a little more gentle there, Bull King."

"You can handle it." Demon Bull King said, "Now, onto the real matter of business. You haven't confessed yet, have you."

"What? Oh, is that what this is all about- I mean, I have no idea what you're talking about." Wukong said, laughing nervously. Demon Bull King stared down at him, unimpressed.

"So I'm right, you really still haven't confessed." Demon Bull King sighed, "Really, I expected better from you. Oh well, I suppose it is a good thing that my son is braver than you, not that that's very hard."

"Ouch." Wukong said, slightly jokingly. "You...really aren't pulling back your punches today huh."

"You trapped me under a mountain. I can be permitted to throw a few heavy hits." Demon Bull King said, "As it is though, if you do not confess sooner rather than later, you may miss your chance."

"Huh?"

"Do not make me out to be a fool, Sun Wukong. I can see the way your body grows weaker." Demon Bull King stared pointedly at a scrape Wukong had gotten on his hand when he'd been dropped onto the floor. Wukong, following the other's gaze, hid it behind his back. "You can't hide it from me. A month ago that fall would've been nothing to you. The Lady Bone Demon has affected you more than you're letting on."

"...So what if she has?" Wukong asked, "It's fine, it doesn't really mean anything, my powers will come back to their full strength sooner or later, you know."

"When I carried you, you weighed a little heavier than you used to."

"Hey now, don't go making comments about my weight!" Wukong said, letting the glamour on his eyes drop so that he could give Demon Bull King the red-eyed glare. "Seriously, I don't know what you think you've figured out, but just, drop it, okay?"

"...If that is what you wish." Demon Bull King sighed, opening the door and standing slightly to the side in order to let Wukong through first. "Promise me one thing though, for the sake of our old friendship."

"...Of course."

"Please confess before the time runs out."

"I'll... I'll try."

-

The party had been great.

In fact, the party had been spectacular.

Which was why, of course, that merely a week after the party, their luck seemingly ran out.

One of the Lady Bone Demon's 'followers' attacked the group during a supply run. Somehow, someway, Wukong and Macaque had managed to draw it away from the others, giving the rest of the group ample time to get the ship loaded and get everyone to a safe place.

Now all the two monkeys had to do was find a way for themselves to escape.

Macaque ducked under a wave of magic, glancing over at Wukong, hoping that the other would have some kind of plan.

He could immediately tell from the look on the other's face that he did not, in fact, have any sort of plan.

Macaque kept dodging as he watched Wukong impulsively take the offensive, sliding under a wave of magic, running up and jumping to kick the demon in the face- Only for the demon to catch him by the foot, spinning him around and tossing him. Wukong's back slammed against the mountain they'd ended up fighting beside, and he fell onto one knee for a moment.

And then he slowly stood back up, his fur messed up. He used his sleeve to wipe some blood away from the corner of his mouth, his eyes burning red and oh-

Oh, that was kinda hot-

Macaque immediately cursed letting himself get distracted, as the flowers grew in his chest, and he stumbled, wheezing as a few golden petals fell out of his mouth.

A wave of magic hit him from behind, knocking him to the ground and sending him skidding over to where Wukong now stood.

"Shit- are you okay?" Wukong asked, keeping one eye on the demon, who simply watched them in slight amusement, as he helped the shadow monkey back to his feet. Macaque glanced between the demon and Wukong, feeling the flowers in both his throat and his mouth.

Fuck, he wouldn't be able to win this fight if he stayed like this, in this state.

...Which only left him one option.

Taking only the barest of seconds to prepare himself, Macaque grabbed a hold of both side of Wukong's face, ignoring the monkey's confused squeak as he made sure their eyes met.

"I love you." Macaque said, a single petal falling out of his mouth.

"...I love you too?" Wukong said, confusion and shock filling his face.

"Wait, what?" Macaque asked, but was given no time to question it as the demon seemingly had enough of waiting, and threw a whip of magic at them, the two monkeys having to separate from each other and leap to different sides in order to avoid the attack. As the dust from the attack settled, Macaque locked eyes with Wukong again, the Monkey King's face coloured with a blush, looking shocked, and Macaque was sure the expression was reflected on his own face.

"You love me too?!" He asked, sliding to the side, to avoid another attack.

"Yes!" Wukong shouted, backflipping out of the way of a burst of flame.

"Then why did you say it as a question?!" Macaque asked, slowly making his way back over to the other monkey while avoiding the demon's attempts to hit him at the same time.

"I don't know, why did you confess in the middle of a fight!?" Wukong asked, mirroring the other monkey's movements.

"It seemed like the best option!" Macaque said, leaping over top of another magic whip, spinning around and finding himself back to back with Wukong. "I- I didn't really think it through."

"And people say that I'm the impulsive one." Wukong muttered, deflecting a beam of magic away from them with his wrist.

"I heard that." Macaque hissed, turning ever so slightly to glare at him.

"I know." Wukong said- before turning and knocking Macaque to the ground, just in time for a blade to go sailing over top of them. "When did he get a scythe?!"

"How should I know?!" Macaque asked- before his ear twitched, and he grabbed Wukong's shoulders, rolling the both of over to the right, swapping their positions as the ground where they had previously been suddenly broke apart, a spike rising out of it. Both of them stared at it in shock, before glancing back at each other.

"Well, there's one thing that I think we both know." Wukong said, as Macaque stood up, pulling Wukong to his feet along with him. They both turned to glare at the demon. "And it's that we're starting to get real sick of this guy."

"...You know, I hear that there's a solar eclipse coming up." Macaque said, and Wukong immediately smirked.

The demon sent another blast of magic, and, still holding hands, the two of them stepped to the side, Macaque even taking things one step further, twirling Wukong as they dodged the blast, before pulling away, giving the Monkey King a small bow before falling down into the shadows. Wukong, smirk still wide on his face, turned to face the demon with a determined look.

Running forwards, swiftly moving left and right to stay out of the way of the demon's attacks, Wukong got himself right up in the demon's face. Jumping, he flipped backwards, hitting the demon in the chin with his foot as he did so, before landing on his feet slightly further back than he'd been before.

The demon rubbed his chin, eyes blazing with anger, and Wukong laughed.

"C'mon, is this the best you can throw at me?" He taunted, practically dancing out of the way of the spikes that shot out of the ground at him. "Surely you can do better than this!"

The demon growled, not seeing the trap for what it was, summoning his scythe and charging forwards. Wukong stayed where he was, smirk still firm in place on his face.

When the blade was almost close enough for Wukong to taste the tang of the metal, the shadows in front of him shifted.

Macaque shot up from the shadows, with a spear made out of the darkness, easily blocking the demon's attack, his eyes glowing purple as he stepped forwards, shadows still trailing and swirling around his feet as he forced the demon to take a step back.

The demon grit his teeth, so focused in trying to keep Macaque advancing any further- that he failed to notice as Wukong slid beside him, his eyes glowing red as he took power away from his glamours and channeled it into making sure this punch was the last one.

The strike hit, and Macaque stepped back, his fur rustled by the wind as the demon was sent flying past him, slamming into the mountain, hard.

The two monkeys stood there for a moment, panting, staring at the demon's prone form.

A minute passed, and that was all it took for the two of them to confirm that the demon was not going to be getting back up.

A sigh of relief left the two of them, Wukong falling down to sit on the ground, while Macaque slumped, leaning against his spear as the two of them took a moment to finally relax.

Only to jump as a field of yellow chrysanthemums and purple, flowering wisterias appeared around them.

The two of them stared around themselves in shock for a moment, Macaque dispelling his spear as he sank down to the ground beside Wukong. A breeze flew by, knocking loose a few petals, mixing yellow and purple together.

"...You know, I can't decide if these flowers are hilariously late or perfectly on time." Macaque said, and Wukong laughed.

"Say, who do you think has more flowers for them?" He asked, and the both of them took a second to think about it, looking out over the field. Wukong abruptly stood up. "Why don't we make some clones to help and find out?"

Macaque laughed, standing up and summoning his own shadow clones as Wukong blew on a few of his hairs, and they went to work, counting flowers.

...In the end, they ended up giving up after the third recount also ended up in a tie.

-

When the two of them finally returned to the ship, adorn in matching flower crowns, MK took one look at them, a brief expression of shock flickering on his face, before he fell backwards onto the couch, a strangled laugh escaping him.

"Fucking finally!"

[vegalocity]

Happier version of Tripsun, time travel nonsense where LMK Sun Wukong meets post-journey Sanzang with General 6?

Dialogue starters

6. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

ah hell yeah

--

Every time he’d be allowed to share moments like this with his former Master, Sun Wukong would say to himself that he could never forget how at ease he could feel. How warm his chest was and the faint sweet shivers that would crawl up his spine and make his fur fluff out could never fade.

And yet every time it was allotted to him again it felt like new.

Perhaps because of how long it had been since their journey, but those random times his Monkeys would inform him someone was nearing the mountain, and when he’d poke his head out in bird form and see that golden light, made his gut jolt and heat to flood his face and neck as though he were some adolescent with a crush.

Of course he’d roll out the welcome wagon (just modest enough that Tang Sanzang wouldn’t chide him for being a showoff even after everything, but could easily be passed off as his Monkeys being as excited as he was to welcome the monk back to the island) and lay out as much food as he could get away with without again, his master scolding him for extravagance and sparing him only a few small knowing smiles over the feast of mountain fruits.

And they’d catch up of course, over food, over tea, and then just sitting somewhere pretty, His master would extoll him the stories of his new students, comparing and contrasting them to his first merry band of disciples (usually a coy smile hidden beneath a sleeve as he said someone or another was just as hard to handle at first as he had been) but a strikingly proud gleam in his smile as he praised students he wouldn’t dare speak aloud to their faces to avoid the building of ego) And Wukong would extoll the current drama of his monkeys and how this or that dispute was brought to him over plums or some other such simple yet silly thing. Truly the stories he had left to tell weren’t near as extravagant as the battles he once went on five hundred years ago, but his master always responded to the comings and goings of Flower Fruit Mountain with as much interest and immersion as he would the mightiest of battles.

And then came the moments when the stories finally ran dry and the two were allowed to simply be in eachothers presence, usually spent meditating on his master’s part while Wukong simply lounged about or read or just sat quietly with his master, enjoying the company in a way the outside world had grown far too bright and fast and loud for.

But this visit was different.

He’d woken up on the mountain, which was strange granted they were li upon li away (Kilometers, they use kilometers now) and his Monkeys were rushing up to him shrieking in fear and panic, hooting and hollering and demanding his attention to an assumed intruder.

He’d been suspicious of course, he’d anticipated anything, the calabash, an illusion, something that would REALLY need his truth seeing eyes (using them had started giving him wicked headaches; his power was so close to gone) but the golden light had already faded when he came outside, ready to fight-

And his eyes fell upon a familiar figure on the sandy shore.

And then he could only hope this was an illusion, as the idea of somehow being transported back home right in time for Master to put himself so close to the danger of the Lady Bone Demon again made his hackles rise. So despite the pounding headache that started the second he summoned the power he gazed around them with golden eyes, gliding over his master’s buzzing cicada wings, his monkeys peering at him curiously, and focusing his gaze to the city-

-where there was neither the silhouette of the skull nor the grid-like patterns of an illusion’s edge. Nor even the city itself.

There was a town, sure, but not a city. A town that had been in the… sixteen hundreds or so? About a century after he’d sealed the Demon Bull King away and dropped in on master to tell him he was considering retiring, that he’d be on his mountain if he needed him, and he was always welcome if he wanted to visit.

And about a century after that, Tang Sanzang had taken him up on the offer. And there he was.

This was the first visit. The throbbing pain in his head proclaimed this as not a dream, the golden vision proclaimed this not an illusion or a trick. This simply… had happened. He had replaced his (slightly) younger self for a time, and this was where he was. The first time.

Maybe this wasn’t for him so much as it was for the others, being given a past version of himself with his powers still in tact, Maybe his past self could protect them all in a way he no longer could.

His monkeys were giving the monk a wide berth and he watched him look around, normally serene expression slightly crumpled as he looked for a path up the mountain. At this point he could easily appear there with a flick of the wrist, but his master never believed in the easy way (except when it came to riding Longma for the entire journey, but he bullied him enough about that as is)

He called a couple of his monkey generals to him and gestured to the beach. “We’ve got a treasured guest here boys, bring out some of our best fruits! The monk drinks no wine so our most potent teas as well!” The two chittered between each other and saluted him. Ah… he missed when his monkeys could much easier take orders.

“Why if my eyes don’t deceive me! Is this the virtuous Tang Monk I spy? The carrier of the Tripitaka himself? Why if any demon consumed his flesh it is said they’d become immortal!” He crowed, and watched as his master quickly covered his mouth with a hand, suppressing a laugh before schooling his expression back into the unimpressed line.

“It seems as though I've wandered to another mountain full of dangerous demons.” he stated, monotone and dry, but playful grin quickly betraying the tone. “If only I had some gallant disciple to protect me from the oncoming dangers”

Sun Wukong tumbled from the trees and gave a mock bow. “Say no more virtuous monk! No demon worth their salt can stand a fight against I, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven!” there was a pause.

And then his master’s laugh was all he heard. It took him a second to join in, taking a hairdsbreath too long to enjoy the sound, but soon enough he was escorting the monk up to his home.

He had barely been able to wait to tell his Master about Xiaotian, and yet here he was having to avoid the boy’s name entirely while he searched to remember stories and drama from the monkeys four hundred years ago. He mentioned briefly that he was considering taking on a successor but hadn’t decided on it yet. His master told his own stories and He found himself possibly enjoying it a bit too much, Master had only recently passed by his thousand year mark of being immortal and he had still not quite gotten the hang of it yet. All the same he was doing his best and it was nostalgic to watch him try so hard to maintain what came easily to him in the future.

Then the stories ran dry and he gestured for his master to follow him, and reached his favorite spot on the mountainside, it overlooked the town that would soon become a city and they’d have the best fireworks. He didn’t share that information with master, but it didn’t matter, just his presence was enough.

But before he could vanish into the ‘somehow always like new’ feeling, Tang Sanzang turned to him with a worried eye.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” It was a question he didn’t remember being asked on that first visit, one that took him aback.

“What do you mean, Master? I’m fine.”

“Bad Monkey, don’t bother lying to me, you keep wincing as though you’re in pain and you can take beatings that would make mountains crumble into ravines! You keep rubbing at your fur as though there are wounds that are still healing beneath when it takes so much just to pierce your flesh! Was your fight with the Bull King really so intense that your wounds act up even a century later or are you concealing other things from me?” damn those perceptive eyes. He didn’t USED to be perceptive, he used to fall for basically every demon trick!

Then again, he probably wasn’t doing too great at covering up the lingering wounds on his body either.

“I’m fine master, I’m sure everything will be back to normal when i’ve rested some.”

Well that was the exact wrong thing to say as he watched the Monk’s face pale. “Have I been keeping you from rest? Oh, you fool of an ape you should have told me!” Tang Sanzang turned to face him properly and for a moment Sun Wukong’s brain short circuited entirely as he placed soft hands on either of his cheeks to cup his face. “I can return at any time! If you’re injured you shouldn’t feel pressured to remain in my company!”

“I want to be in your company.” It came out in a way he wouldn’t have been able to mask the adoring warmth to, no matter how hard he tried. “Master, I enjoy nothing quite as much as I do our quiet moments together.” He had to go visit him himself upon returning to his time, he’d forgotten just how much he could miss the monk once again.

Tang Sanzang huffed and it seemed like that had at least turned his upset into more garden variety aggravation. “Bad monkey…” He shook his head, and in the dim light of sunset it almost seemed as though his master’s cheeks turned a pink shade of their own before he brought his hands down to take Sun Wukongs in his own, and stood. “Well if you feel so strongly about that then clearly I’m going to have to see to your recovery myself.” The monk looked off to the side and a small smile came with a featherlight chuckle. “How strange, a near reverse of how things once were between us.”

He chuckled as well at the irony and watched his master’s grin widen. “Indeed. Well, if you insist, I shall submit myself to your fucking fretting, baldy.”

Now THAT got a real laugh. and a soft 'Language!' between chuckles.

He’d get summoned back to his own time when Past Him was done doing whatever heavy lifting he’d gotten too weak to be able to handle no doubt. But for now he didn’t see the harm in enjoying the peacetime as it lasted.

--

Send me stuff

[tigerseye46]

D..... if were working with 'Pigsy was Baije' then does Wukong know? Were Wukong and Baije a thing too or is that exclusively an 'in the now' thing?

I mean either way that will be FUN to find out

TW: Death, Blood and Injury

Also Season 2 spoilers

Okay so I’ve thought about this a lot-

Thank you for giving me a chance to ramble, anon. This is going to be long

So, I would like to believe Wukong finds out eventually, either through Sandy (who I’d like to think is Sha Wujing), his golden eyes or a build up of hints. Since they’re stuck together on a ship, I think he has more time to figure it out because maybe he’s never really paid attention to MK’s friends until they had to be forced together. Or he did know before that and is just hiding it extremely well.

So for the ‘were Bajie and Wukong a thing’ I believe that even if they weren’t a thing, they at least had feelings each other that they never acted on because I am also a massive Zhuhou shipper.

Either way, it’s Wukong mourning for his lost love. We get a tragedy from two sides if Bajie died (from “To Catch a Leaf, it’s very implied something happened to him), although there are as just as much angles if we got with an alternate universe where Pigsy is just Bajie in disguise which I will elaborate on further.

If Bajie and Wukong were a thing, either married or still in the dating phase, and Bajie died, Wukong knows he has just lost the person he loved the most. Bajie’s death takes place possibly years after Wukong has already sealed DBK and has given up fighting. At this point, demons are still causing havoc and Bajie, who’s maybe matured a little bit, has decided to step up and be the hero for both of them.

Bajie, as shown in the first chapter he appears in, can fight Wukong on equal grounds but usually he does get lost in his cowardice and desire (since desire is what he’s supposed to represent) although when they do need him, he’s there.

Wukong isn’t worried about him fighting because he is strong. One day, there is word about an extremely powerful demon that people are having trouble with so they need Wujing, Bajie and some other warriors to help. Wukong feels something in his gut telling him to not let his husband go but he ignores it, the pig can handle himself. He gives his husband as much kisses as he possibly can with “Do your best, idiot. I love you.” Then he pats Wujing on the shoulder and watches them leave.

He chills on his mountain, suppressing the dread that lies in his stomach and eventually, he sees the top of Wujing’s hair and thinks “Oh, they’re back. I wonder how it went. I can’t wait to shower Bajie with kisses.” He sees Wujing’s face which is a mix of sadness, guilt, grief and anger all wrapped into one. The fish demon gets closer, holding Bajie’s body in his arms, bruises and blood present, the pig isn’t moving, isn’t breathing and Wukong feels sick to his stomach.

He rushes towards them, demanding to know what happened and Wujing explains that during the attack, Bajie blocked a blow meant for Wujing, the fish demon was on the ground when the demon was about to strike him, he was on his knees, breathing heavily and his reactions too slow to fight back. The pig gets knocked to the ground where the enemy demon hits him again and is about to give another blow when some soldiers attack him. It left Wujing enough time to go over to Bajie and try to help with his injuries but the bleeding was too much for him to stop, the pig leaves some parting words and passes away.

When he finishes, Wukong says the demon better be dead or he’ll go kill him himself, Wujing says he killed the demon and Wukong growls out a “good” and goes quiet.

He takes Bajie’s body in his arms, either remaining quiet with silent sobbing mixed in or screaming his lungs out and weeping more than he has ever before. He decides to bury his husband, aware that Bajie will be reincarnated one day, he has no idea when that will be. He leaves a small “Goodbye, my love…” as the pig is buried. And it hits him that he couldn’t protect one of the people that mattered the most to him and he decides to hole himself up on his mountain with the rest of his family occasionally checking up on him, he’s too lost in his grief to care rather they’re there or not while Wujing is in lost in his anger.

Eventually they stop visiting and Wukong believes they passed on just as Bajie did so he sets up a shrine for them.

Wukong holds on to whatever he has of them left, like the courtship bracelets. He makes sure to clean those regularly, holding back sobs as he does so, he gets defensive when anyone asks what they are, no one needs to know what those are except him.

Centuries pass and he finds Xiaotian, the perfect candidate to be successor, he watches the kid carefully, mostly focusing on him, barely taking note of the people around the kid.

So he trains him, hardly leaving his mountain, he doesn’t need to after all. Being around the kid brings him more joy than he’s felt in years but he still misses his family like crazy so he has the kid destroy the mural. It’s a painful reminder of what he has lost.

New Years comes around and we know how that whole thing goes, at the end, when Wukong is near MK’s friends, getting a closer look than he ever has before, maybe he realizes those are his family. He questions, did Tripitaka and Wujing reincarnate as well? An overwhelming feeling pops up in his chest at seeing them after so many years. When he gets a glimpse of Pigsy, he thinks “Oh my gods. That’s him. That’s my husband. He’s here, he’s alive… but he isn’t my husband, not anymore” and Wukong has got to get out of there before it becomes too much so he leaves.

And he suppresses all of it because he has bigger things to worry about.

Then at the last moment, when he finally has what he needs to defeat WBS, he flies just in time to see the kid lose to WBS and he pulls him out of there. Then he gets scolded by the man he once loved, still loves and he knows his husband the pig demon is right.

He tries to convince the others that they shouldn’t go, they’re mortal after all but they refuse and he has to bring them along. Now he and his family’s reincarnations are stuck in close quarters and he wants to get close to them again, he does but he doesn’t deserve it. He let the person he loved die and Pigsy doesn’t think that highly of him anyway so it’s better he just stay away as much as he can. Yet he’s still so hopelessly in love and he tries everyday to not wrap Pigsy in a hug and apologize, the same goes for the rest of his family.

Wujing, I mean Sandy, notices the king’s mood and asks what’s wrong where the king pushes him away, explaining how it’s none of his business. When Sandy tries to push further, Wukong shouts at him how the demon has probably never lost family and Sandy stays silent then explains how he lost a brother. And it hits Wukong, this is Wujing, actually Wujing, not some reincarnation and they hug and sob, maybe the others catch them and they don’t explain.

They’re all each other has and they cling to each other with the others questioning their new found closeness and Pigsy feels a twinge of jealousy but he has no idea why. Wukong tries to connect with Bajie while maintaining his distance because it still hurts way too much.

Now to explain, what happens if they weren’t an item. So, basically the same thing happens with Bajie’s death except they think something happened to Wukong since they couldn’t find him after he sealed DBK. Again demons are still popping up like crazy, taking advantage of the fact that the king is no longer around.

So Bajie steps up, gaining a more responsible attitude and despite, rumors spreading that the king dies, he ignores them as he believes Wukong will return one day. He gets extremely irritated when people say Wukong died or abandoned them. The same thing happens where he bleeds and dies, leaving Wujing, Bái Longma/Ao Lie and possibly Tripitaka, if he hasn’t reincarnated, to mourn (using this angle for a fic I’m working on).

Obviously Wukong thinks they’re dead and again, possibly at New Years, the king finds his family’s reincarnations and questions what happened, feeling a good amount of guilt for leaving them.

Then while they’re all stuck on the ship together or some other thing, Wujing reveals that he is still the same person and admits what happened to Bajie which just grows Wukong’s guilt and he has to stay away from everyone for a few days.

I would imagine he tries to respectfully maintain his distance from Pigsy while also trying to get closer, possibly sticking to him like a puppy. Again, does he really have the right to be near him? Because he left them and it could have been preventable if he just stayed.

The pig has no idea why the king sticks to him sometimes, he finds he doesn’t really mind it for some reason?? Also it’s easy for him to keep an eye on the king and makes sure he takes care of himself. And the king is kinda cute, he’ll admit. Wukong calls Pigsy little nicknames in his head a lot.

Wukong falls deeper in love with Pigsy, noting that no matter what life he takes on, he still loves him. Very much so and he doesn’t know how to tell him about who he once was.

In either sides, should he tell Pigsy this? Does he have a right to see Pigsy? Does he have the right to see any of them? It hurts to watch his family go on without him, but they’re happy, right? He shouldn’t interfere with their lives more than he already has. They don’t deserve that. On both, there is tragedy, longing and mourning and Wukong feeling guilty for so many reasons.

And we have the third take, the universe where Pigsy is Bajie in disguise.

Pigsy mourns Wukong like the king mourns him. Wukong is one of the few people that Pigsy has ever truly loved and vice versa. They miss each other like crazy, believing the other is dead and wishing they could talk to each other once again.

They wish they could have said something to each other, confess their feelings and maybe it would have changed something. Maybe the other would have stayed alive and well. While Pigsy’s working, sometimes it hits him that it’s better that he never said anything, after all, he isn’t Wukong, he’s not a hero, he doesn’t consider himself one. He was a slacker, a coward who did everything to cause problems and does Wukong really need someone like that in his life? Maybe that’s why he left. Pigsy ignores his good qualities from when he went by Zhu Bajie because he doesn’t think he has any good qualities.

The monkey would have rejected him, no doubt about that so it’s better he never admitted his feelings.

Time passes and he takes in Xiaotian, the kid can be good at his job, but annoyingly distracted. The kid is a big fan of the Journey to the west and a part of him feels joy as hearing someone so close to him enjoy the adventures but it’s also another reminder about all his stupid actions. Especially when Tang likes to point out his past mistakes to tease him for always getting them in trouble.

And one day, he sends MK on another delivery because he should really be working instead of listening to those stories. And what’s this, a bad review? Okay, Xiaotian needs to explain this! Where is he?

He’s about to scold him when Xiaotian reveals the staff and no, no, no, no, that can’t be Wukong’s. It just can’t be. Laugh, Pigsy, the kid must have just found a cheap imitation.

Then the kid accidentally breaks the table with it and oh my gods, it’s Wukong’s.

And Pigsy takes them to Sandy. MK believes that Wukong will be there and could the king be there? Yes, it is his home but they haven’t heard a word from him, the pig still believes Wukong is dead. There’s a small ray of hope that the king is alive.

Somehow, Tang and Sandy manage to convince Pigsy to go with the two. He grumbles about it and inside it hurts to go to the home of the man you once loved, still love, knowing that he won’t be there.

Then the fight with Princess Iron Fan happens and Pigsy believes he lost his kid as well.

And it turns out that Xiaotian is fine, thankfully. When Mei asks if MK managed to find Wukong and MK says yes, that cements it, he’s alive. And he never visited them. He tries to not clench his fists in anger and watches as the kid fights DBK.

His kid, the one he thought was dead, is now Wukong’s successor. The king let him believe that Xiaotian was dead, stupid monkey.

That night, he goes on and on to Sandy and Tang about how he hates Wukong, that’s a lie, and how the king should have told him he was okay. He manages to convince them that they shouldn’t see Wukong. If he wanted to visit them, he would have done so.

Life goes on with the pig hearing little things about what the king is doing from Xiaotian, his chest aches. He wants to punch the king in his handsome face and he is so tempted to charge up onto that mountain and do so but he holds off.

And he kinda wonders why the king left. And a thought crosses his mind, maybe it was because of him. Maybe the king didn’t want to be around him any longer and decided to leave. He knows how bad he was in the past so the king probably had enough and decided to go.

Maybe Xiaotian decides to finally introduce Wukong to his favorite people, he’s heard some thing and the kid convinces him to do so. And he meets them and they remind him of his family because they are his family including the person he loved, loves most in the world. Either Wukong knows they’re the originals or believes they’re reincarnations and how they’re so close yet so far.

Wukong yearns for that closeness once again especially with Bajie, the pig who has captured his heart even with their differences and he tries to impress Pigsy a little. Pigsy tries to keep the monkey at arms length, he is not having his heart broken again, that monkey is not getting close to his family.

And yes, I made this insanely long. Thanks to whoever reads this.

[the-roanoke-society]

homecoming.

alternatively titled: there and back again, a charlie tale.

the incredibly late follow-up to parts unkown, featuring @agent-nova, charlie hesketh, technical officers wyvern and drake, and team e key.

there are depictions of injury, gore and some horror elements under the cut. proceed with caution.

i am still very sorry.

weeks went by at the roanoke estate. october turned to november. to december.

the house was still decorated, of course. but lilith had done her best, with the white lady’s help, to ensure that the lights were extra soft, glowing as gently as an embrace. “their eyes may hurt when you bring them back. we want the landing to go as easily as we can, yes? fortune favors the prepared.” lilith had spoken with such certainty. nova and wyvern clung to it with a white knuckle grip.

she didn’t sleep much, didn’t eat much. wyvern wasn’t much better off. they hardly came out of the basement office set aside for the chunk of the traceback formula development—their usual company was just each other, cups of coffee gone cold, and tea… but those were usually merlin’s.

lillith had been the one to make that phone call. merlin had dropped absolutely everything, hadn’t even asked arthur for approval. he’d just left. harry had gone with him, for his sake, sure, but also for rae. the necromancer wasn’t taking this well.

not many were.

there weren’t any protocols in place for this. “this is the fucking protocol!” wyvern had screamed at longma, in that first formal meeting after the incident; his temper had definitely gotten the better of him in this entire ordeal. “and now we’re just shooting in the dark, hoping that we can find anything, anything, to trace, to give us even half a clue as to which one of these hellholes you and drake so thoughtfully sent them to!”

“jeremy—that’s enough.”

merlin was beyond exhausted.

he didn’t know how much time he’d spent just standing in the middle of his girlfriend’s quarters—going over old journals, old case files, anything he could find. he reasoned that maybe there was a hint, something from the past he could grab and yank to the present to help them. hours? days? time had never seemed so disjointed. stock-still and fleeting all at once.

and a darker part of his mind conceded: you are afraid you will not find her. and you are trying desperately to find a way to keep her close. you will never get to apologize to charlie. it will die with you. and that’s something she might’ve found unforgivable in another life, right? the withholding of mercy?

he shook his head. brought himself back to the basement office with drake, longma, wyvern—and nova, who was leaning up against one edge of the whiteboard with her arms over her chest.

it was covered in formulas. equations. numbers, number, numbers.

it was right in front of their faces. it had to be, he reasoned. and this—this was something he could actually help with. he’d be damned if failure would catch him now, when the price of it was this steep and shaped like someone that he loved, that he wanted to m—

no. not yet. if he could find her, then maybe…

despite winter falling down over the estate grounds, it was warm downstairs. he had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.  “look. let’s jus’—let’s jus’ talk this through again. y’ said that the traceback signal functioned as a receiver. correct?”

nova shifted on her feet, lifting a hand to her face. back to square one. she didn’t want them to see her expression crumple—but drake caught it, and felt sick.

wyvern heaved a sigh, his hands going to his hair. merlin swallowed and quickly went back to staring at the board.

don’t think about how she did that too. don’t think about it. focus. focus.

“yes. the traceback, it’s—it’s meant to pick up on device signals. we trace a path, boom, whip ‘em back to this timeline. hence traceback.”

merlin hummed, rubbing his scalp.

“okay—okay.” he picked up an eraser, clearing the board again. “let’s just try it again from the start. one more time. maybe there’s somethin’ we missed, like—passin’ a hallway in an old house…”

the initial panic had faded by then, out of necessity.

there’d been a few evenings where they each, in turn, had tried to solve the entire problem as quickly as possible. but the more they tried to fight against it, against time, the more frustrated they got, and it had ended in tears. for nova, most of all. and for merlin, just once: his first night in the states when he’d gone down into this exact office because he couldn’t stand to go to her room and find it silent, and empty.

and it’d been merlin who’d sat both of them down, one particularly raw night—pretending that they were recruits, that he was back home—and told them that trying to do this rushed wouldn’t move them forward. not the way they needed to move.

nova had buried her face in her hands. “do y’ understand, ellie?” she nodded, but didn’t speak.

wyvern and merlin encased her in their arms from either side.

he didn’t remember how long they stayed like that. but after they separated—that is when the work began. night after night of mathematics, theorems, conjectures. all dead ends.

but no one so much as uttered the phrase ‘give up.’ no one would.

*     *     *

“… wait.”

charlie didn’t quite have enough time to throw himself into a full panic. seraphim’s tone made him pause, and he watched her slowly get to her feet, staring at the skyborne city. “… i know that tower.”

“you recognize the city?”

seraphim squinted. “i—yeah. i think i do.” a head tilt. “… holy shit. holy fucking shit.” was there a smile in her voice?

it was charlie’s turn to struggle to a stand. his arm burned, and seraphim reached out a hand behind her to help him up. “why do you sound like this is a good thing?”

“it’s not, but i’m choosing to believe there’s no way it couldn’t help. c’mere, look—“ she stood right at charlie’s shoulder and pointed to the center, spiraling tower. “see that? that’s a part of a castle in an underworld capital city, korssrun. guess who was with me the last time i went there?”

“who?”

“ellie.”

and seraphim told him about the first time that she’d ever used the gate alongside the woman who was growing into a shape best described as ‘the love of his life.’ she could have cried at the wonder in his eyes, how the alarm melted from his expression even when she was talking about krueger, who for all intents and purposes was the exact opposite of a relaxing entity.

but it helped. it gave them a reference point, even if it was a little vague, and… possibly not a reference point at all.

“all right. so this is like… some weird inverted version of that universe. allllll right-y. all right, all right, all right…” seraphim took a few steps backwards and rubbed her hands on her face. think, think, think. “we just have to come up with a plan…”

“do you think they’re looking for us?” charlie winced, shifting on his feet. his gaze fell to the ground, slowly rolling back to the dark spots that marked where they’d landed against the rock.

“of course i do.” her answer was quick, firm. “if i know ellie like i think i do, she’s not going to sleep until she can find a way to bring us back. … or at least you.” that last bit was said quieter.

before charlie could open his mouth to ask her anything else, she gasped, “oh! oh that’s it! i mean—not like, it-it, but it’s a—“

“morgan!” he didn’t want her to know how bad he was feeling. but it leeched into his voice anyway. pain. every breath he drew was like a small layer of stone, gravel settling on the bottom of his chest. hot, suffocating. his skin was tingling. “please. just. slow down. what are you talking about?”

“i think—since they are looking for us—“ seraphim nodded with emphasis, confidence, but her voice trailed as if she was in the middle of a thought. “—it might be helpful if we found the…” she frowned, made a gesture with her hand. “… i don’t know, the landing point.”

“landing point?”

“i mean like the corresponding point where ellie and i met ground when we first came here. all the entry points for all the gates are pretty consistent in terms of the physical location where you hit.” her eyes went back upward. she stared at the tower. “this… this place isn’t mapped. i’m not going to pretend that this is a good idea, but it is an idea.”

charlie pressed his palms into his eyelids, exhaling, inhaling. “so. you think that if they try to get us back. the signal will come from there? be close to there?”

seraphim rolled her shoulders. she felt an itch as a bead of sweat rolled down her back and she hastily reached for her hair, snapping it up into a messy ponytail. the one time she remembered to keep a hair tie around her wrist. “yes. there’s no reason to think so, but there’s also no reason to not think so, and i’d rather throw my money in with what we can infer based on what we already know.”

charlie snorted.

“what?”

“nothing, you just—remind me of someone.”

“yeah? well you can tell me all about them on the walk over. c’mon.”

he frowned, but his steps after her were unwavering. “you know the way? how?”

seraphim glanced over her shoulder, smiling. she—looked tired. her skin shone in the muted light. charlie wondered if he, too, looked like some strange gemstone. but sweating only helps if it can cool you down… he tried to not think about it too much. a sharp wave of burning bit into his socket, a perfect circle of pain around the metal.

he tried not to focus too much on that, either.

“it’s just like wayfaring. that’s our north star. trust me, i know where we’re going.”

“whatever you say, maui.” it hurt to laugh but he did anyway.

“oh, i can see what’s happening here… you’re face to face with greatness, and it’s strange—“

“okay, you know what, i brought this upon myself, i can’t be upset—“

   *     *

and so they walked. and walked, and walked.

charlie was unnerved at the quiet. like they were the only things alive. the only sounds he heard were their voices, their steps, and the soft, round echoes that sounded after them among the stones. and it all looked the same, even as he would turn in slow circles as they went, trying to see as much as he could.

granted, there were the mountains. but the rocks were all the same color. they were all the same smooth-shaped like they’d been fished out of the bottom of the river. it rolled out around them until it dissipated in the white light that lit up the narrow horizon line.

and over them—well. the dark mass of… what had seraphim called it? krossrun? no, korssrun. what a strange name for a city, and—

he coughed. nothing but heat down his throat, into his chest.

it was getting harder to breathe. bit by bit.

was… was that static?

seraphim had a hand up immediately, placing it on charlie’s chest to stop him. at first, she hadn’t looked at him, trying to desperately figure out why it suddenly sounded like someone’s old tv was suddenly out somewhere ahead of them, stuck on a channel that didn’t work with the volume turned up to max volume, but then: “charlie? jesus, your arm—!”

he’d been slightly behind her, letting her lead way. at least, that’s he hoped it looked like. he didn’t want her to realize…

the blood had spread. a layer of red seeped from the edge of his sleeve upwards towards his collar, and down his side.

“it’s fine, it’s okay, it’s—“ charlie couldn’t stop her, and how she moved closer to him so swiftly to carefully tug at his shirt reminded him so much of nova that suddenly his eyes were stinging and he had to glance sharply to the skyline.

“this is not! fine!” her voice came out hoarse and halting, going up a pitch in panic. shit. shit this was not good. “this! is! the opposite of fine! charles douglas hesketh!”

“that’s not my—!” but he had to stop abruptly, swallowing a genuine scream when seraphim’s fingers got too close to his skin.

“fuck, sorry, sorry—aw man… charlie…”

seraphim was a bit of a loss for words. they hadn’t stopped moving, not since they landed. she didn’t think either of them could. the idea of staying put, waiting on something or someone else to come for them without doing anything at all? absolutely fucking not. nope. not today.

but because they hadn’t rested…

well.

the tears around his arm socket, okay, they could be because he’d been moving. but these other marks, these blisters, those weren’t from movement.

“it’s burning you.”

“mm?”

“charlie.” he’d never heard someone’s tone change so much in such a short amount of time. but when seraphim looked up to his eyes, he had a hard time looking back at her. it was unnerving, watching the color drain from her face, yet not enough to take away the flush that went across her cheeks. “charlie, your arm socket is—it’s the metal. it’s been heating up the entire time, hasn’t it? that’s its reaction? flesh does, flesh does this, right, and your arm, it’s, it’s not flesh so it…” she uselessly gestured to his arm.

she wasn’t wrong.

he had felt it. been feeling it, been carrying it.

and had a new appreciation for that old story about the frogs who were very slowly boiled alive.

but of course he wasn’t going to say anything. what was there for it? he’d seen no water, or even evidence of water, or clouds, or shade, since they’d landed, and—the static grew louder. they both froze, looking ahead, waiting. there were quiet, agonizing whirs as both of charlie’s hands clenched into fists.

and charlie had thought to himself, i might need to keep it on me. best to go like everything’s all right.

nothing about their view changed. just that background noise—foreground noise, charlie supposed. it wasn’t something that was surrounding them—but it did sound wide.

“stay close to me,” seraphim said softly. there were tremors on the edge of her voice. “i don’t really want to waste time trying to go around whatever’s out there, especially when we might not even be able to.”

“do we have to go this way, morgan?”

seraphim pursed her lips together and nodded. “every time you look at me i can see the lack of trust in your eyes but i promise you this is the right way. i just need you to keep a kind of faith for a little bit longer. okay?”

charlie stared at her.

he tried to make her eyes turn into ellie’s, but the hazel, the browns, the greens—they were too different.

and it was only the idea of seeing them again that kept him upright, that distracted him enough to get his mind off of his arm socket, his thirst, the sweat that kept dripping down over his eyelids.

“show the way, fearless leader.”

seraphim snorted, reflexively. “yeah, leader. right. pretty sure good leaders wouldn’t let their colleagues get into the barrel of fun this has turned out to be.”

charlie did as he was asked, keeping pace right at her shoulder as they carefully picked their way over the smooth stone. always watching. listening. waiting. “it’s not like it was your fault.” their voices fell to hushed tones. “you rushed in to make sure drake was okay. i’m not sure he would’ve had the same reaction to getting snapped up somewhere like this.”

“and annabelle…” seraphim sighed. charlie couldn’t quite tell what emotion it carried. maybe there were too many. “she would’ve been heartbroken. it’s—is it better, then? that it was us?” for a moment, she stopped walking, frowning and gazing at the ground. but then she shook her head, blinking. “let’s maybe save the philosophical conversations for af—“

she didn’t finish.

they rounded a corner between two particularly large boulders, where a dirt path ran between them. it almost could’ve been a hiking trail, charlie decided, as he studied the ground. was it even dirt? who knew? but it was packed like dirt, packed like someone—something?—had walked over it numerous times, over and over and over again.

but he didn’t see any turns. just the impressions of something shaped vaguely like the foot of another human being. made by—

ellie?

charlie felt his voice rise up in his throat, but before he could speak, seraphim grabbed his arm, pulling him backwards roughly.

“m—“

“sh!” her hush was violent. she’d gone a sickly pale and he felt her hand trembling by his elbow.

seraphim very carefully leaned, looking past him. lifting a finger to her lips, she edged forward a few steps. charlie gazed over the top of her head around the stone.

it… it looked like ellie.

the static was louder than ever. it was like the hum he felt when he was underwater, the surface of the sea off the english coast a fractured glass ceiling over him.

she was facing away from him, and… and…

he blinked, shaking his head. it hurt to watch. he couldn’t make sense of it.

it was shaped like her, sure, but she wasn’t—solid. not transparent, not exactly, but more like her edges weren’t quite there. like parts of her were erratically blipping in and out of view.

“what—“ he couldn’t get the rest of the words out. he felt seraphim’s hand on his bicep, her grip trembling but firm. he swallowed. it was like a weight had settled beneath his lungs, and the longer he looked at the back of that stranger’s head, the heavier it got.

he wanted to go up to her. he wanted to run his fingers through her hair. he knew it wasn’t her. but if he could just feel her one more time, or something like her, one last time... because would they even ever get out of here alive?

“… what is it?” he finally asked. his voice barely registered a whisper, and he tried to lean as close to seraphim’s ear as he could so the sound didn’t get lost in the static.

“not human.” her answer came low, and sad. she was staring at her too. “i’ve—i’ve never seen one this close before.” one? seraphim put one palm over her chest, and seemed to convulse, before inhaling. it sounded a bit like a rattle, on the edges. “i’m... surprised there’s one here. but if we’re quiet, and keep going, it—“ she choked back a harsh cough. “it won’t bother us.”

“why does it look like ellie?”

for a second, seraphim didn’t react. then she laughed, ruefully, once, tugging at his elbow to keep going forward. they pressed as close as they could to a line of jagged boulders that acted as an edge to—charlie supposed he couldn’t describe it as a shallow gulch. cliffs rose up around them, but they weren’t very high; there was a cleft in the stone right in front of them just wide enough for them to pass through.

“it looks like ellie to you?”

“yes. … who do you see?”

seraphim didn’t turn, but she also didn’t let go of charlie. she kept her eyes up ahead of her even as she moved to pushed him forward, so she could guard him from behind. just in case.

and that was the only time she looked back.

it kept changing. both shapes were tall. one had a head of thick, black hair. longer than she remembered, but recognizable. the other had no hair at all.

she didn’t answer him until they were safely out on the other side of the path, where the cliff walls sloped down into a sandy valley. the more they walked, the softer that static grew. soon, it would disappear entirely, leaving only the familiar, heavy silence in its wake. “someone i miss. that’s its trick.”

the mountains were still in the distance, but this new clearing was basically featureless. it made charlie nervous. there was nowhere to hide. “and what—what was it, exactly?” the adrenaline had kicked in, now that it was safe. his hands were shaking, and his heart was in his throat. why was it so hard to breathe?

but as soon as it ebbed, the biting, burning pain in his arm socket came back with such a vengeance that he almost didn’t hear seraphim answer.

“something like a demon. but not quite.” her cheeks were rosy but the rest of her face was a blanched shade. she looked almost like a doll, and coughed again. “i’ll, uh… tell you all about it when we get out of here. we’re close now. this all looks—familiar.” her voice quieted at the end as she looked upward, gazing at the city. their unholy constellation that was helping them chart their course. “that’s why it’s there. it’s there for us. like some fucked up sign post. christ help us…”

seraphim shook her head, abruptly turning her back to charlie.

he was glad.

she didn’t want him to see her face crumple, and he didn’t want her to see how much pain he was in.

seraphim got it back together. it took her a second. but she thought about merlin, and imagined him, in his quartermaster tones, encouraging her.

she had to get back to him. she felt a curl in her heart, and here in this literal hellhole, she was willing to grasp it with both hands and a white-knuckle grip.

“okay—okay. what do you think, homie, have a mile or two left in you?” charlie swallowed, nodding. he’d never had cottonmouth this bad in his life, and he was trying to focus on literally anything to get his mind off his arm. he picked seraphim’s soft drawl. it seemed a bit more pronounced when she got emotional, he noticed. he wondered how many shades of her voice that only merlin had gotten the chance to hear.

and then he started thinking about how merlin and seraphim even ended up together at all, which led him right back to ellie, and she was the shape that kept the pain away as he followed seraphim’s steps.

they traveled in silence, for a while. it was a tired quiet, but not one that met them with their guards lowered completely.

seraphim was lost in her own puzzling. those entities appear for a reason. where are we? where the fuck could we have landed that would make something like that thing appear, like it was on purpose, like it was planned by someone, something else?

she didn’t have to even lift her eyes from the ground. she knew where they were going.

but charlie didn’t, and he tripped once, reaching out awkwardly to catch himself and almost landing on seraphim in the process.

his metal plan landed squarely on the stone, which meant his body weight bore down further on the machinery.

the pain was blinding, instantaneous and charlie couldn’t stop the retched, gagged and very loud swear word that came out of his mouth. seraphim jumped, startled. “jesus! charlie? charlie what’s wrong? did you twist something?”

he had to take deep, gulping breaths, but it was just like breathing in steam. there was no relief. “i’m—fine, i just—need a second—“

but seraphim, for all her flaws, wasn’t a complete moron. as charlie awkwardly sat back onto his knees, his hand went to his arm socket. not touching it. but close. her eyes followed to the scarlet-soaked material of his shirt.

oh, this is bad. this is very bad.

“you’ve lost a lot of blood.” she said quietly. she’d been wishing for merlin this entire time, thinking of all the times he’d bandaged her scrapes and bruises and true, maybe charlie would’ve preferred rougarou or cherub as medic, but… “and those burns are going from first to second degree. charlie, we need to take your arm off, we could be looking at permanent nerve damage if we don’t, and the weight’s tearing these wounds open more—“

“no!” he was started at how loud his own voice was. “… no.” he said it again, softer. “we aren’t alone out here. you don’t have virgil, neither of us is armed, except for this.” he winced as he lifted his metallic arm. “i need to keep it on me.”

seraphim leaned back on her heels for a second. two seconds. three. “… okay. sure. you know best. at least let me help you up.” she offered one hand that he gratefully took, pulling him back up to his feet.

but as soon as he was standing, seraphim gripped his arm with both hands, wrenched one direction, and pulled.

it snapped off with a piercing, metallic tang, and seraphim was screaming.

the relief by his shoulder was immediate but it was overshadowed by the sight of his own limb lying useless in the dirt and seraphim, stumbling backward until her back met rock, tears streaming down her face mingling with sweat. she had huge, burning welts over her palms. “shit. shit shit shit shit, fuck, fuck, jesus—“ a cascade of swears and cries for her god.

“why did you do that.” he couldn’t tear his eyes off of the machinery. “why did you do that?!” no matter how that steel had burned him, his anger was much, much hotter.

seraphim was choking out sobs. it sounded like she was suffocating. “ellie isn’t here to take care of you, so i have to.”

he stood, silently, staring at her. seraphim sniffed, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. “ellie isn’t here to love you, and you don’t love you, so i am going to, because i’m here and it is just us, charlie. it’s just us. i know this sucks, i know it’s scary, i know that you don’t know me that well and you’re freaking out that i’m the one that you’re stuck with—“

“morgan—“

she kept going. “but you. have. to trust me. i am not going to bring you home with you needing a fucking skin graft! i am not bringing you home to ellie damaged, i am not bringing you home scarred!”

she looked up then.

and he thought, wow. i wonder if she’s ever looked at merlin like this. how did he survive it? and… wait, what was wrong with her eyes? why were they silver around the edges? had long had they been that way?

“but i am bringing you home. if we have to defend ourselves, then we will burn that bridge when we get there. but right now i’d rather us take the stealth route. we will keep our eyes and ears open. we won’t let anything sneak up on us. and we will find a way to the landing point. okay?”

charlie was quiet, but then softly spoke: “… okay.”

this time, seraphim didn’t hide her face. charlie watched the water stream out of her eyes, which looked—“uh, morgan?”

she took off her outer shirt with trembling hands, swearing under her breath, leaving her in a tank top. sweat got into the welts. it was like someone was rubbing salt on them. fuck, it hurt. but every time she looked at charlie, she could see how much straighter he was able to stand, how he seemed to breathe a little easier. worth it. absolutely worth it.

“yes, charlie?”

his eyes caught sight of a large scar at her shoulder. he blinked, trying not to stare. “uhm, can you… can you look at me? for a second?” she used her shirt to bundle up his arm, cradling to her chest awkwardly, like a baby. palms not touching the fabric.

“what? why?”

“just—just look at me. for a second.” seraphim flinched only slightly when charlie brought his hand up to her face, gently pushing up her eyebrow with his thumb. it was a movement he’d seen merlin do, a few times before. he opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, closed it—would it be worth even telling her?

but she interrupted before he could say anything: “… are they silver, where the whites are? shiny, maybe? like polished iron?” something like dread laced her voice.

“… yes.”

seraphim sighed, pursing her lips together and nodding. “okay. we’re, uh, we’re running out of time. but we’re ah, we’re close, okay? we have to get moving. like, right now.”

“all right, all right. ladies first.”

“leaders first.”

“that too.”

but he was only able to hold his tongue for maybe fifteen minutes. not having his arm attached did feel a lot better. but he still felt trapped inside of… he tried to find words, something comparable. a sauna, he supposed, was the closest he could come up with. a very dry sauna.

but then he started to wonder how long they could survive here, where the air they breathed seemed to be poison, and what he could give to just be able to sit down, to find the point, to go home, to see her—

stop it. … stop it.

“morgan?”

“yes, charlie.” why did she already sound resigned?

“… why are your eyes like that?”

seraphim sighed, but her pace didn’t slow, not at first, not really. the rocks around them seemed to slowly level out, from cliffs, to boulders worn smooth by a river that wasn’t there anymore, then finally to what charlie would’ve described as a clearing. a meadow, maybe. but he’d never seen a meadow made up of only rock, sand and silence before. not like the ones he’d played in when he was smaller—with his brother. with james.

drake, cody, jeremy. each name formed once, echoed, and then disappeared.

it wasn’t just ellie he missed.

and merlin wasn’t the only person on seraphim’s mind, either.

charlie almost ran into her when she stopped walking, one hand going up to touch her back. accidentally, he brushed that same large scar with his fingers. she didn’t seem to notice. instead, she asked quietly, her voice shaking: “are we in a clearing? sort of round, even space, except for what might be a sharp cliff jutting up somewhere overrrr there?” and seraphim pointed to where, yes, there was an abrupt lift in the rocky surface of the wasteland.

“uh—yeah, morgan. we are.”

“and we’ve been walking for what feels like—what? a few hours?”

charlie rolled his shoulders. “feels like more than a few, but, yeah. hours. … why?”

slowly, she turned, staring at the ground. and when she looked at him, she was smiling. sweat glistened on her forehead, sliding along her eyebrows.

“groovy. we found the point.”

but charlie almost didn’t hear her.

pinballs.

they looked like pinballs.

she didn’t have pupils anymore. it was entirely possible she wasn’t looking at him.

“jesus christ.” this was the worst time to be hit by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia for an arcade charlie wasn’t even sure was still around the south end.

“you sound upset, chuck.” she laughed but it wasn’t cheerful.

“morgan, uhm—your eyes—“ seraphim pursed her lips together, and it looked like oil was starting to roll down her cheeks.

oh, he thought. she’s crying.

“yeah, uh, i can’t see anymore, but hey, again, it’s okay, because we found the point. i know we did. if we’re—if we’re in a place—“ she sniffed. “that looks like what i described, we’re here. this is—this is it—“

seraphim swallowed. it was just all darkness. just like it’d gone all the other times she’d lost her sight. but this—something about this was different. her entire face ached, sure, that was familiar. but it was like a pulse both hot and freezing in equal portions was moving back further and further into her skull. like someone pressing fingers into her eye sockets.

she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to ignore it. especially if ran its course.

“so…” charlie began, slowly. “now we wait.”

seraphim nodded. she didn’t bother to wipe at her face, leaving the black tracks where they were. “yeah. now we wait. we uh. we can rest now. things are going to be all right, you’ll see. we just ah, we just wait right here…”

wordlessly, charlie took her elbow. he eased her down next to him, and they sat together in the quiet, backs warmed against the stone.

“morgan?”

“chuck?”

she heard him chuckle, but just once. “what will happen to you? if they don’t find us?”

seraphim sighed. “i’ll lose my eyes. it’s ah, ocular degeneration. they’re uhm. disintegrating, but at least they’ll look shiny before they go. and you’ll get heatstroke.” she said it in the same tone she would’ve described a sports play.

“and we’ll both die.”

“… yeah. we’ll both die.”

   *     *

it was christmas eve.

nova had never felt less festive in her life—although every time she looked at merlin, she imagined he felt the same.

and she had never felt more defeated.

she didn’t know how many times that day they’d gone over the formula. she didn’t know how many times she’d excused herself to cry. she knew that dinner was happening—had happened?—upstairs, and that three plates had been carefully prepared, left on a desk, and went untouched.

she was sure they all looked a bit thinner at this point.

wyvern and merlin were speaking softly behind her, but nova was standing just where she’d stood for countless hours. staring at the numbers at the whiteboard. willing them to speak. and they still hadn’t.

so she leaned back on her heel, rubbing at her face. just for a second—she let her mind wander to charlie. she pressed her fingers over her eyes.

she thought of him smiling. out in the snow. she thought of watching him from far away, of him looking back at her.

she pictured love in his eyes, lips curled into a crooked smile. snowflakes on his eyelashes. not saying anything at all. just there. with her.

just there with her...

“… jeremy?” she had to cough, her voice initially coming out as a kind of croak. “jeremy. hey. i think i have an idea.” wyvern grabbed his coffee, gone lukewarm. he took a big swig anyway, not that it helped much these days. “these variables right here… these are the factors that sort of shape how it’s looking for a signal, right? this is the ‘how’ in how we’re looking?”

wyvern hummed, nodding. “you got it.”

“okay, so what—what if they weren’t saying anything?”

merlin frowned. “i don’ follow.”

nova’s heart seemed to lift an inch or two. oh my god—oh my god. her hands shook as she grabbed for the eraser, swiping off chunks of the board. wyvern started, “ellie, dude what are—!”

“what if we’re looking for a signal that’s not there?” she asked. but it wasn’t with despair, it wasn’t something dark. merlin’s expression fell anyway, and he rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, looking to the ground.

she shook her head, trying to get her thoughts into some kind of order. “i mean—we know morgan had her glasses on. that was in the footage. and she probably still has them, hamish, she’s still alive, i know she is, they both are, but what if… what if we changed this so that it wasn’t looking for a signal? what if we found a way to only look for power, anything with a switch in the on position?”

wyvern clasped his fingers behind his neck, gazing up at the ceiling. “like we were just looking for any familiar electrical components that were running… not any that were trying to communicate with us, specifically.” he inhaled deeply, putting his hands over his mouth—and softly made a sort of gentle, screaming sound. “… we’re dumb. we’re so fucking dumb.”

“shut up, no we’re not. i don’t even know if this’ll work—“

but merlin already had a marker in his hand, writing up new equations that they hadn’t used before. it felt better on her eyes already.

“it’ll work.” he said, and quieter, added: “… because i don’t know what else to do if it doesn’t.”

“all we have to do is configure the eye.” wyvern muttered, right at merlin’s shoulder in two long strides, “if we do that, we recast our proverbial net over the same spaces we’ve been looking, and we’ve got to find them. we gotta.”

nova felt a surge of hope surge up so strong she staggered back, hitting the edge of a desk with her tailbone. wyvern looked back over his shoulder at her. she was smiling.

it took her a second to remember what it felt like. to recognize it. hope.

“we will. … we will.”

   *     *

“… i’m sorry.” seraphim tightened one arm around charlie’s swaddled robotic piece, pressing the bundle more into her chest. she focused on the dull pressure points that ran diagonally over her heartbeat. anything to distract her from the painful blindness.

“why.”

she almost broke at how tired he sounded, how hoarse. like the sand had finally gotten into his vocal cords, rubbed them raw. how long had they been sitting here? how long had they been gone?

she could see the time in the corner of her spectacle frames. she could see the single bar of battery that was left. still no signal, naturally. there wouldn’t be any to be found here.

at least they’ll have the video. they’ll have the audio—this. they’ll know. even if my glasses are all that’s left. they’ll know.

seraphim refused to consider that their bodies would rot here. die here, maybe. but stay? absolutely not. it was getting more and more difficult to keep her thoughts in words. they were starting to devolve into just screaming.

“i thought—i thought that it would be easier for them to find us here.” she swallowed. “i thought—“

“there was never a guarantee.” charlie interrupted, sadly. “it’s okay. it’s okay…”

one of seraphim’s hands had been lying, palm-up, on the ground between them. charlie slid his underneath it.

seraphim opened her mouth to say something, but: “let’s just sit for a while. okay? we’re—we’re both tired. it’ll be all right if we just sit, right?”

so she nodded, letting her head fall against his shoulder. she closed her eyes, not that it changed her view.

and she didn’t know if she fell asleep, or if she passed out. she didn’t know how much time passed before she was hearing charlie speak to her, “… you seein’ this?”

she didn’t open her eyes. what’d be the point? “seein’ what, charlie.”

“it—it looks like a wisp.”

god, she was so tired. she missed merlin. she kept trying to will the scent of his cologne into her nose, but all that she could smell was haze.

maybe, if she fell back asleep, she would dream…

“a wisp?”

charlie didn’t move. he just watched this point of light, moving on its on like a specter. it had blinked into existence maybe a few feet over where they were sitting, a sudden star. and he’d watched it, curious but detached.

what was going to happen was going to happen. he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it now.

the light had floated down towards them until it was finally on level with his eyes. there it stayed, motionless. like it was looking at him.

“yeah,” he said. “a wisp of the woods.”

seraphim didn’t say anything or lift her head. even if she had, she wouldn’t have seen charlie tilt his head to one side, and reach out.

she wouldn’t have seen the flash of light that enveloped them.

   *     *

nova stood over drake’s shoulder the entire time, watching every single keystroke, watching the grids go out over and over and over again. wyvern was on the other side. merlin was pacing. nova hadn’t quite seen him nervous before. it was unsettling.

“this is the last sort of quadrant that the gate was locked on to before they split,” drake explained, “so if mo’s glasses still have any life in them, they’d be—“ a soft ding. a small green dot, pulsing like a heartbeat, and with every pulse came a chime. “—here.” it came out almost a whisper. “they’re—they’re right here, guys.”

nova’s eyes stung. thank you, thank you, thank you… “okay, so, we’ve got a lock on them, how do we get them here?” but wyvern was already at the gate console, and a familiar hum filled the room. nova had never been so happy to see the faint blue rings, to see the tendrils spark into being their proper shade of white. but they weren’t reaching out, no. it was like they were flowing into a space back behind the gate, somewhere they couldn’t see.

“we employ the fuckin’ traceback is what we do. drake, how strong’s the grip?”

drake frowned. “strong enough for a pull. we’re doing this right now?”

“they’re outside of our flow of time, we have no idea what their status is, where they landed, if they’re hurt, or how much time has passed, we’re doing this now. merlin, do me a solid and use that comm right there to get aly and caroline down here? just… just in case. now, everybody just stand tight for a second.” for a few minutes, nothing happened, save for a tense silence broken only by wyvern’s furious typing. the gate gave its own background white noise.

and rougarou and cherub did make it down to the basement, equipment bags in tow, right around the same time that there a sudden snap; charlie and seraphim materialized about four feet off the floor and unceremoniously dropped. the thuds would’ve echoed if it wasn’t for the rug.

merlin had to fling his arms around nova to keep her from charging forward. “charlie? charlie!”

“easy, easy, we need to let them get checked out first—!“

charlie’s eyes were closed, his countenance peaceful, as if he was just sleeping. cherub had her hands on this throat, his chest—“he’s breathing. he’s breathing, but—“

“they’re burning up.” rougarou had been left to contend with seraphim, who hadn’t quite fallen asleep inside of the wave the brought them home.

their temperatures clocked in at 102.5, according to the small reader in cherub’s hands. their breaths rattled, rasped.

and merlin watched, horrified, at seraphim’s ravaged, blinded frame. he couldn’t immediately think of a way to articulate how he felt about her eyes.

seraphim felt the cool air of the basement first. and yes, she could hear them, hear everyone. after a moment, recognized them. but it wasn’t rougaoru’s voice that made seraphim realize in whose arms she was lying in, it was her perfume.

that brought her back. the smell of recovery, the smell of home, the smell of returning after centralia and other hells.

“… aly?” seraphim choked, hand fisting the material of rougarou’s shirt, trying to cling to anything familiar. but she didn’t let go of charlie’s arm. she had a white-knuckled grip on that bundle. there were hands on her face again, her eyebrows.

“morgan… morgan, what did you do to your eyes?”

“i’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“if you can crack jokes, you aren’t dying.”

nova surged against merlin’s grip, even as she could see that charlie wasn’t awake. and she wondered how he stood so still, seeing seraphim finally succumb to unconsciousness.

but to seraphim, all she knew was that she could feel the floor. she could feel and smell rougaoru. she was breathing clean air. there wasn’t an entity with static following them anymore. no desert. no skybound city. no white light beyond what she’d left behind.

she was safe. she was home.

and so.

she let herself black out.

*     *     *

charlie woke up slowly.

he hadn’t realized how much pain he had been in until the pain was gone, replaced by a strange warmth that made his head swim. he blinked a few times until the ceiling lights came into focus.

i’m in medical. they found us. we’re home.

he inhaled deeply, exhaled.

home. home. home.

there was beeping somewhere in the background as he tilted his head and saw nova, asleep in a chair next to his bed (along with an iv line that ended in his arm—that explained the lightness). she was so close. he watched her chest rise and fall, tried to memorize how her hair fell over her countenance. his heart sank at the darkness underneath her eyes. her face looked thinner.

there were questions that roamed around on the edges of his mind. he didn’t know where seraphim was, or his arm. and he was vaguely sure that there hadn’t been christmas lights up when they’d left. how long had they been gone?

but charlie left them where they were. for now, there was just one thing he wanted to do with what little energy he had.

gently, charlie reached out and took nova’s hand, moving it so that it rested between his head and his pillow. he pressed a slight kiss into her palm, a promise. he looked up at her one more time, though his vision stung and blurred. he closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat.

on the other end of the medical bay, merlin sat in a chair against the far wall, carefully regarding seraphim. she had bandages wrapped around her head, covering her eyes; there were dark stains that reminded him a bit of smudged ink. he made no move to be closer, just watched her, holding his chin in one hand.

and charlie’s last thought before he fell back asleep rather mirrored the quartermaster’s.

she’s worth all of this.

… is she worth all of this?

somewhere upstairs, merlin could hear raucous singing, muted by the walls.

“said the king to the people everywhere, ‘listen to what i say! pay for peace, people everywhere! listen to what i say—the child, the child, sleeping in the night, he will bring us goodness and light, he will bring us goodness and light—!”

[tigerseye46]

I don't know if you're still taking prompts, but if you are could you do Freenoodleshipping with Angst 11 and 9 please?

Wooooo! Starting if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted. It’s not my best.

9. “You’re safe here, I got you.” 11. “Look he/she wants you, just make him/her happy.”

Bajie glances at his master, a soft smile on his face. Tang smiles back at him, it’s one of the few peaceful moments the group gets away from everything. No demons, no strangers to help, just them.

Wukong is resting on a nearby tree, Wujing is conversing with Bái Longma who decided to take a break from his horse form.

His master and him had been building up more of a friendship lately. Bajie is ecstatic, his master is finally paying attention to him! After all these years of Tang looking at Wukong, he is finally getting something.

His master strolls up to him. “It’s a beautiful day, Bajie.”

“It is, master. Good to relax for once.”

“Yes it is. I was about to do my meditation. Care to join me?” He holds out his hand which Pigsy takes and squeezes.

“I would love that, master but I’m not exactly the meditatin’ type.”

“It is okay. You do not have to meditate. I just want your company.”

He smiles because Tripitaka is too gorgeous, too sweet. “Works for me.”

The two hear cackling nearby, they look to see Wukong has decided to join the other two. Tripitaka turns to the pig. “Maybe we should go to a quieter spot,” he says and leads him to a better area. He sits down on the soft green grass and pulls the pig down with him. “This seems appropriate.”

“Yea. It does.” Bajie leans against him and kisses the tips of his fingers. “It’s some privacy finally.”

“Why, Wuneng, if I didn’t know any better I would say you want to be alone with me.”

“I do want to be alone with ya, master,” he admits and chuckles at the monk’s red face.

“Well, I am glad then. At least we do not have to worry about our conversation getting interrupted.”

“I know right. It’s nice to spend time together, just us.”

“It is. I love the others but they can be a handful at times. Looking after them is sometimes like looking after children, well not that you do not act like a child yourself, Bajie,” he comments in an amused tone.

“Hey! Careful, master, one might think you’re developin’ a sense of humor.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well you have been a bad influence on me.”

“Excuse me for enjoyin’ the company of my darling master. Plus my influence is great!”

“Uh huh. What is so great about it?”

“For one, ya laugh a lot more than ya did before and two, ya seem more relaxed. I like it.”

He smiles and plants a kiss on his cheek. “I’m glad. You are right. I’m going to meditate now.”

The pig nods. “Okay.”

His master snaps his eyes shut and begins meditating. The pig takes a moment to observe him, breathless at how gorgeous he is. Tang hums, “You’re staring.”

“S-sorry,” he stutters.

“It’s fine but I can not focus when you have your eyes on me. I feel shy.”

“Shy? Shy for what?”

He briefly opens his eyes and smooches his cheek. “You are you. Handsome and charming. I feel inadequate when you stare at me.”

“You’re not inadequate! You’re gorgeous!”

Tripitaka giggles into his sleeve. “Thank you.” He closes his eyes again and breathes softly. The pig sends him a small glance before turning away and continuing to nuzzle him.

It was supposed to be peaceful. Keywords “supposed to be.” Until a random demon thought it was a perfect time to strike. Thankfully, the pig grabbed his master before the demon took him. He held the monk close to him, the three had heard the noise and now Wukong was fighting the demon.

“You’re safe here. I got you,” he assures and kisses his head.

The monk is shaking slightly. “Thank you,” he whispers and buries himself in his chest to avoid looking at the scene.

The fight is over when Wukong smacks the demon in the face, the demon runs off with the monkey muttering curses under his breath. They take their master back to the camp and repair his injuries, a small amount of blood drips from the monk’s cheek from where the demon slashed him a bit. It horrifies the pig to see how close the other demon got to him. What if something happened? It would have been his fault. He feels sick.

Wukong cleans the wound and places a small bandage over it. “Thank you, Wukong.” He gives the monkey a fond smile and the pig feels jealousy bubbling in him, Wukong is the monk’s savior, never him.

“Of course, master. Anything for you.”

The pig lets out a low growl, Tang raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Wuneng?”

“No.” Tang grabs the pig’s hands and frowns when he pulls away.

“Wuneng…”

He begins to walk away and makes an excuse to leave. “I’m goin’ to get some firewood!” He ignores the sad look on his master’s face and strolls to find something to occupy his mind.

It’s been an hour and he’s only picked up a few pieces, not like he is actively looking, he wants to stay away for awhile. He wasn’t fast enough and now the monk was hurt because of him. He always gets hurt because of him. “You should go back,” a voice says.

He gasps, then narrows his eyes when he spots Wukong. “What do ya want?”

“Master is worried about you.”

“He shouldn’t be worried about me. He should focus on himself, he’s the one who got hurt.”

“You know master. Always concerned about others. Well you did walk away from him. Hurt his feelings.”

“He’s fine. I’m sure his savior walking away to talk to some lowly pig hurt his feelings.” He growls and turns away, he lets out a warning hiss when Wukong grabs his arm and forces him to look. “Let go.”

“Is that what this is about, brother? That I’m master’s savior. Is your stupid jealousy acting up again?”

“Shaddup. It’s true, isn’t it? Master got hurt and ya had to save us. Again,” he adds. “He got hurt because of me. I wasn’t quick to pull him away from the demon. I always put him in danger.”

His brother rolls his eyes. “You’re just now realizing this?” The king laughs when the pig slaps his shoulder. “You're not wrong about that. But did you purposefully provoke the demon?”

“Well, no-”

“Then it’s fine, brother. You didn’t mean to put master in danger this time,” he teases.

“I guess but master still got hurt. What if ya didn’t get there in time?”

“I always get there in time. Tch, are you doubting my capabilities?”

“No. I’m just sayin’. Master deserves better, I like him so much but I always put him in danger. He likes ya way more than he does me.”

“Bajie, we’ve talked about this too much. He likes you.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

The monkey rubs his face irritated. “Oh my gods. I am not dealing with your pining for another century or two. He lets you lean up against him when he meditates, he kisses your cheek and lets you kiss him, he stares at you when he thinks you’re not looking. Now he’s sad that you aren’t there with him.”

The demon blushes and thinks for a moment. “I- I…”

“Look, he wants you, just make him happy. Don’t have to believe me, just see for yourself.”

Bajie nods. “Fine. Thanks, big brother.”

“Of course, little brother. Now get with master already so I can find another thing to tease you for!”

“Shush.” He nudges his brother and drags the firewood to the camp, his brother follows.

When they get to the camp, they see their master with a sad look on his face, the look fades away when he notices Pigsy and dashes up to him, wrapping his arms around his neck. The force makes him drop the wood in surprise and nuzzle the monk. The monkey rolls his eyes and gathers the wood, placing it in another spot and giving them some privacy.

The monk’s eyes sparkle and he cups the pig’s face. “Bajie!”

His mouth quirks up. “Master!” He holds in a breath when he sees the bandage. “Are ya okay?”

“I’m fine, thanks to you!”

“Are ya sure?”

“Yes! Are you alright? You seemed upset earlier.”

“I’m okay. I was just worried about you. Ya did get hurt.” His thumb is carefully caressing the bandage on his cheek.

“I’ll recover. There’s no need to worry. I know you’ll always be there to save me.”

“Alright, master, if you’re sure.”

“Call me Tang or Sanzang,” he says.

“Huh?”

He repeats, “Call me Tang or Sanzang.”

“Are ya sure?”

“Completely. We are close enough now. If you are comfortable with that.”

He smiles and kisses his hand. “Yea, I’m comfortable with that. So what do you want to do now… Tang?”

The monk giggles and grins. “Well we could talk about some light topics, weather and such.”

“I would like that. Come on, Tang.”

“Alright, Bajie.”

They walk hand and hand to a spot near the others. Bajie feels giddy at the first name privileges and ponders if Wukong is right, he isn’t exactly sure, at least they can push the demon far away from his mind.

——-

It isn’t until thousands of years later that they see the demon again. Thankfully, the demon doesn’t recognize Tang, he can sense there is something special about the human but he focuses more on fighting Xiaotian and trying to find some way to get his monkey kid powers to complete his plan. The other human can come afterwards.

In the ensuing battle, Pigsy grabs Tang and holds him in his arms. “You’re safe here, I got you,” he assures in a soft tone and kisses his head, just like back then.

Tang snuggles into his chest. “I know, you always have me. This reminds me of something.”

“Yea, reminds me of somethin’ too. That demon is still stupid.”

“He is using the same trick twice in a row to get MK’s powers, how shameful,” he jokes.

Pigsy nuzzles him. “Careful, Tang, one might think you’ve developed a sense of humor.”

“Well you have been a bad influence on me.”

He chuckles and kisses his head again. “Tch. I told ya my influence is great. I’m goin’ to help the kid, stay here.” He put him down gently.

“Alright. Be careful, love.”

Pigsy hugs him. “I’ll be careful, babe.” He summons his rake and helps the kid fight the demon, driving him back with him cursing about how he’ll come back another day. He ruffles the boy’s hair afterwards. “Good job, kid.”

“Thanks, pops! Is Tang alright?”

Tang walks to them with a bright smile. “I’m fine! You did an amazing job!”

The boy nods in thanks. “Why was that demon interested in Mr. Tang in the first place?”

The two cough then the monk shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s a mystery to me.” The boy tilts his head. “Why don’t we eat something? I’m sure Pigsy will make us something.” He ignores the glare.

“Okay!” The boy runs ahead of them into the shop.

“Ya just promised him free noodles.”

“Well he did do a great job. He deserves something.”

“You’re only sayin’ that last bit so ya get somethin’ out of this too.”

“Am I?”

He scoffs. “Whatever. I hope that the demon doesn’t come back. Don’t want ya hurt or kidnapped.”

“If that happens, you’ll save me. You always do.”

“Yea,” he mutters. “Guess I do.”

“You are my hero after all and heroes deserve a reward.” His partner kisses him and he kisses back, curling his arms around him.

“I love you,” he declares when they separate.

“I love you too. Now come on. I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

“I wonder how that happened.”

“Shush! That was a long time ago!”

“It sure was. Now come on.”

Tang drags him inside, he rolls his eyes when Tang grabs bowl after bowl but he doesn’t protest, quite a rarity. He thinks back to what Tang called him earlier, he’s Tang’s hero, always will be. No matter what, he always has Tang. Wukong was right, his master wants him and that’s the way he likes it, to spend the rest of their days together. He grimaces as Tang takes another bowl, if only he could slow down while he eats then this moment would be true bliss.

[the-roanoke-society]

parts unknown.

alternatively titled: how charlie learned to stop worrying and love the gate.

just a little something for halloween featuring charlie hesketh, or agent zenith, or roanoke, @agent-nova, and technical officers drake, longma and wyvern. also starring the infamous agent andhrimnir.

there are some depictions of injury, gore, and sci-fi-induced stressful situations below the cut. proceed with caution.

... i am very sorry.

seraphim closed the front door behind her with a contented sigh, eyes flickering up to one corner of her specs as she did, checking the time in the u.k. merlin was probably dead asleep already, but she quickly typed out a message anyway: home safe. mission a success. love you. going on a food quest. message me when you wake up. next year i promise we’ll celebrate your birthday on the same continent. she winced as her stomach growled and she unzipped her jacket, hanging it up on one of the hooks by the door.

it had been a second since she’d had just a routine, local exorcism call, especially with twins. she made a note to bring that up with carter and parker at some point. ‘did you know you two have a greater chance of being possessed? you remember that the next time you want to fuck with something you shouldn’t be fucking with, carter—‘ ‘oh my g—it was one time!’

it went off without any major hitches. the bridge of her nose was a little sore, but other than feeling she was about to devour the entire manor, no other adverse side-effects, not even the usual cold chills. she still had the father’s business card in her back pocket—he’d offered the estate free plumbing work for life.

some nights, seraphim loved her job.

and she loved it even more as she walked closer to the kitchen. someone was busy, and whatever they were doing smelled wonderful.

“hey tony. you’re up late, are that many people in and out right now?” she heard agent andhrimnir hum as she grabbed a magnet shaped like a tiny ufo, putting up rory linn’s aaa plumbing service card on one of the shared refrigerators.

“you that surprised given what day it is? besides, i scored a metric fuckton of squash from the market today. thought it’d be a good idea to get started on meal prep for the week, making up a few things people can just grab and heat up.”

“no, guess it’s not that surprising…” seraphim crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her biceps as she walked casually—a little too casually—towards andhrimnir, who just shot her a look as he tapped a wooden spoon against the rim of a giant, steel pot he had in front of him on the massive stovetop.

“… morgan.”

“yes, tony.”

“could i interest you in some mexican turkey and squash stew?”

she feigned ugly sobbing, “oh my god please.”

andhrimnir rolled his eyes. “you are so dramatic, go grab a bowl and i—“

they both jumped at the sound of heavy, quick footfalls crashing by the kitchen opening and then fading away. andrhimnir asked first: “… who the hell was that?”

“i—i think that was charlie? uhm, let me—go check on him, save me some of that, i’ll be right back.” people moving at a full sprint through the manor wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary, but seraphim had only recognized charlie briefly, not who was behind him. what was going on?

behind her, andhrimnir just sighed, shaking his head. boys will be boys… but, given the holiday, maybe a little bit of shenanigans couldn’t hurt. he started humming thriller as he turned back to the stew, grabbing a little bit of cayenne pepper from the spice rack.

as soon as seraphim started walking down the hallway, heading towards the nearest door that went downstairs, she could hear muffled shouting. “—ch it!”

and she walked down the stairwell to the tune of longma, charlie and drake’s voices all chiming something like “catch it!” “don’t let it go over there!” “are you sure this is gonna work?” “we’re going to find out!”

“what on god’s good earth are you three doing?”

drake had a small, ornate box in his hands that seraphim was fairly sure he was not supposed to have, and was flanked by longma and charlie, who all just stared at her like deer caught in headlights. drake was on his knees on the floor by a corner, which looked—unnaturally dark.

“—this was drake’s idea.”

“charlie hesketh you traitorous bastard. this is the thanks i get for trying to show a little innovation and initiative.”

longma shrugged, “bro i think we can all admit that we just really wanted to use the box.”

“yeah, morgan, look, we got this gremlin fucker cornered and—“ but drake turned around and the corner was a lot lighter. “… uh-oh.”

charlie lifted his metal hand in a signal, and all four of them stood, listening.

there was a ten-second stretch of silence followed by a skittering noise that sounded like it was coming up by the ceiling. “ohhh shit there it goes!”

“‘shit’ is right.” now all of them were jogging along the wall, staring hard upwards at a vague blob of a shadow that almost wasn’t there, like cats chasing a laser pointer.

and they were jogging towards the gate.

“woah, woah, woah, stop—“ seraphim managed to grab charlie and longma by their arms but drake kept running froward. “drake get away from there, if it turns the gate on—“

“relax, i got this! crowley brought this back after he and andi were in yokohama like all last month. guess the head of the kingdom gave it to him as a thank you gift—“ drake had his eyes up, and wasn’t watching where he was going. they could still sort of see it, trapped up at a new high angle, and it startled them by chittering, like a squirrel. seraphim hadn’t heard one make a noise like that before.

“fergus said that this could trap anything. don’t you wanna see if that includes these little guys?”

longma scoffed, “yeah, and then told you to leave it alone three seconds later—“

“hey, i don’t remember you arguing with me to put it back twenty minutes ago asshole!”

“oh my god, enough! i literally just got home and am not in the mood to play step-mom!” seraphim pulled charlie and longma back a few more steps, “charlie, watch him, drake, get back here!”

“does this make you step-dad?” “shut it.” “yes sir.”

the chittering was getting louder, more rapid-fire. it sounded like nails falling on glass.

and then a hum.

the gate was on.

fuck.

but seraphim wasn’t the only one who moved forward on instinct to grab drake—charlie did too.

*     *     *

nova and he’d had a—well. he wouldn’t call it a fight, exactly. she was more just a little exasperated. not that charlie could blame her.

“charlie,” she’d groaned, moving his hands off of her waist. “i really, really, re-he-eally, need to get this done for wyvern. he wouldn’t have asked for my help unless it was really important. this math is—hieroglyphic. but i think if we can figure out which of the formulas is the right one, then everything will make a lot more sense.”

“what is it again?” charlie asked, frowning at the endless lines of numbers, figures, scattered across her desk. his hands may have moved from her waist, but they just traveled up to her shoulders. charlie rested his chin against the top of her hair. nova opened her mouth once, closed it, and then just shook her head.

“i’m—i think wyvern’s trying to come up something he called an emergency traceback. probably just as a sort of backup because of all the uh, critters running around downstairs. but this is... sort of some kind of mix of algebraic cartography, divination and like three other kinds of math that i haven’t used in a while.” her voice vibrated through his jaw, before she tilted her head back. “so. i need to concentrate. just—for a bit. okay?”

charlie grinned. “okay.” when he kissed her he was delighted to find that she tasted like the candy corn from earlier—which didn’t give him that good of an impetus to stop…

“mm… charlie, knock it off!” she playfully smacked him. “i just said not to distract me!”

“if you could taste you, you would understand.”

a furious blush overtook her face. “oh my g—go find someone else to bother for a while!”

he’d laughed roughly as he left their bedroom, thinking about going to the kitchen—he was positive that there was some of that oktoberfest craft stuff somewhere, and he’d grown a soft spot for agent andhrimnir, despite his sometimes prickly demeanor—when he had the wind knocked out of by him drake, who slammed into him at what felt like a hundred miles an hour.

as charlie was grunting on the floor, trying to re-inflate his lungs, he could he heard clicking go right by his ear. like a dog running on hardwood. “drake? what the bloody hell—“

“charlie! charlie, my bro, my dude, my buddy, my pal, how would you like to get in on something that i am a hundred percent sure will get us all promoted?”

charlie shook his head, blinking, as longma offered him a hand up.

“uh—why does this sound one of your normal ‘good intentions bad idea’ bits?”

“that’s because it is.” longma answered for him. “but in his defense, it did all come together like magic.”

“uh, yeah, like a gremlin just so happened to be down in the archives, which never happens, and we just so happened to like, rediscover this box that we can use to finally solve this issue? guys.” drake just made a grand gesture with his arms as soon as he stood up. “… it’s providence. like. we have to. it’s like god gave it to us with a big red halloween bow on it. c’mon, charlie, please?”

right at the second that charlie found himself with both the officers looking at him expectantly, he had two thoughts alongside each other.

one was that he hadn’t thought of his own brother in about a week. the stretches of time were getting longer.

the second was that the word ‘brother’ brought only muted images of james to mind now. pictures of drake, wyvern, longma—that is, drake, cody, and jeremy—were much clearer. more reflexive. much in the same way he realized that when he looked at seraphim, or succubus, he thought ‘sister.’ as natural as a rainstorm.

and when he looked at nova—at ellie—the first word was ‘love.’ and that was even more effortless these days.

strange, how this place had sort of rewritten his mental dictionary.

“… all right, i’m in. … what are we doing?”

drake clapped him on the shoulder, and opened his mouth to speak, before glancing and then staring down the hallway.

charlie followed his gaze and his eyes landed on what looked like a tiny puff of charcoal smoke, hiding behind the leg of a side table.

and it would’ve continue to just look like a bit of darkness, until two bits of dim light blinked at him.

“what the fuck—“

“step one,” drake interrupted, whispering. “we have to catch that thing—“

as if on cue, it bolted,

and the chase was on.

*     *     *

the humming got louder, a pitch too deep. seraphim grabbed drake by the collar and flung him backward—straight into charlie, who basically caught him and tossed him.

and tendrils, like normal, formed in the gate’s mouth. but they weren’t the soft white that spawned from a normal jump. they were more of a milky pink, like the whites of an infected eye.

oh, this was bad. get out, get out, get out—

seraphim tried to sprint forward, stuck a hand out and tried to push charlie too.

but they both got caught.

longma and drake watched in muted horror as these pastel strands wrapped around both agents, starting from the base of their chest cavities and moving out in both directions. seraphim could not stop the panic building in her stomach, even as charlie was very gently lifted up and pulled to stand next to her.

they had seconds.

her eyes were wide and focused on drake’s face. he had tears in his eyes.

he couldn’t hear her. but he could read her lips.

go find jeremy and ellie. find us. ... it’s okay. it’s going to be okay.

seraphim wasn’t the only one whose heart was hammering. charlie was visibly trembling, his breath coming out in shaky gasps.

there was nothing they could do now.

“what—morgan, what’s happening—“

so she gripped his hand as hard as she could, as silence surrounded them, and they were torn line by line from home. “brace yourself. don’t let go of me. it’s going to be f—“

snap.

longma and drake stood staring at the spot where they’d been for approximately four seconds before getting up and sprinting to the monitors to try to find their signal in the aether, to try and track them as far as they could.

in the five minutes it took for them to find an estimate of where their exit split might have been—which was surrounded by coordinates that they hadn’t ever even touched—charlie and seraphim landed. and by ‘landed’ it was more ‘thrown into the side of a mountain hard enough to knock them out.’

*     *     *

seraphim wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she opened her eyes, blinking them a few times.

the sensation of an intense, dry heat made it hard to move. it was like she was lying in a tanning bed, or in direct sunlight on some lazy afternoon outside. and she almost closed her eyes and let herself be taken back under until she remembered how they got there. deep breaths. deep breaths.

charlie was lying next to her, blood oozing from his nose. it had formed a small pool by his mouth on the ground. her glasses were cracked, but—

no signal. just power. she grunted, lifting herself gingerly into a sitting position.

she didn’t wake charlie. not right away.

she didn’t want to scare him, so she took a few minutes while he stayed in the blackness to compose herself and try to get the fear off of her face as the weight of it hit her.

she was unable to tear her eyes away from the sky, and as she stared at it, she wondered what merlin would do.

charlie came to slower than she had, and seraphim turned as she heard him murmur, “ellie.”

“hey there big guy.” she prayed it didn’t sound like she’d been crying. “you ready to join me in this waking reality?”

his eyebrows went into a frown and seraphim sighed, feeling sweat form around her hairline. not the voice he wanted to hear. “don’t get up too fast—“

she didn’t have to tell him twice, as soon as he was on his knees he let out this long, low groan, his good hand going to the socket where his metal arm met his flesh. he glanced down at his side, “shit…”

“charlie? what is it?” he shifted around and she gasped.

the exit split had thrown him into the rock and right onto his arm. he hadn’t been able curl and protect himself from the machinery, there hadn’t been enough time. the socket had been driven upwards and inwards, tearing his skin open in places. he had a veinwork of blood going down his side, soaking into his v-neck. “okay… okay.” seraphim said quietly. “on a scale of one to ten, ten being it’s so bad you can’t walk, where’s your pain?”

charlie was taking huge, gulps of air, but it burned all the way down into his chest, and he coughed. “let’s say a very strong seven. i can—i can move. it’s fine. and i—“ there were whirs and clicks as he moved his arm, although he tried to hide from her that his range of motion was a little more limited than he was used to. “—can still use it. not broken. ellie can fix it when we…” his voice trailed off as his eyes lifted to the horizon. “… get home.”

seraphim was calm as he took in where they were.

the rocks beneath them were milk white, aside from where they’d been stained by blood. and they went on and on forever towards the skyline, equal parts rolling and jagged. whatever mountain range this was, they’d landed in the foothills.

if there anything else alive here, it was nowhere near them. the silence was thick.

“it’s—it’s really hot—“ he shook his head, trying to pull himself together, find any kind of solidity in his mind. his hand went to his face, rubbing it, wiping at the sweat. “morgan, are we—are we in hell?”

when seraphim didn’t answer him right away, he turned to her in time to see her gazing upward.

the sky—wasn’t a sky at all.

it was a city, hung upside-down, black, violet, and solid. it glittered overheard like a palace ceiling. a tower spiraled towards them in the center, with rings and rings of buildings going outward from it, mimicking, charlie thought ruefully, the mouth of the gate.

the light they were seeing it by was bright white. it seemed to be coming from the line in between both halves of the world, where they didn’t—couldn’t?—touch.

“no, charlie. we’re not in hell. i uh—“ she didn’t want to lie. “i think we might be somewhere worse.”

*     *     *

drake knew just from glancing at the map that they’d been ripped out of the general continuity. he knew that where they’d gone—time did not flow there like it did here.

they had still been asleep where wyvern came barreling down the stairs, out of breath, with ellie close behind him.

“my glasses went off, what happened?” he demanded, his accent coarse in his panic. he found his anger evaporating when he saw the looks on drake and longma’s faces.

at first, neither of them could speak.

until ellie broke their cautious quiet with a question.

“… drake? drake, where’s charlie?”

[the-roanoke-society]

Hey, love you and your tags so much! But uh, what did Drake do? The media room? The four televisions? Morgan I gotta know. Please? (Take your time again I love you so much xoxo)

sigh.

oh this idiot right here…

it was discussed once, that drake formerly had a–let’s call it an infatuation, with seraphim. this was a good chunk of time before annabelle came into the picture, who is, obviously, a much better fit.

and while he has moved on romantically, he sort of held on the feelings of admiration of her abilities. he’d seen enough field footage both this side of the gate and on others to know that she was good at her job. he looks up to her as an agent.

on an off day, drake found himself wandering around the archives, eyes roving over assorted book spines. he, wyvern, longma, and a few other officers who worked with the gate had been called into a meeting with lilith and, to their surprise, technical officer dohbar, of the borley council. dohbar is the lead officer over the robin gate, borley’s equivalent of the washington avenue project.

and dohbar and his team, they’d–found a wall.

i don’t mean that entirely metaphorically. while our gate is built more for say, depth, the robin crew focused solely on how far outward they had access to (more than one dick joke has been made about this). how long did the road go, exactly? apparently, long enough for them to encounter what they surmised was some kind of psychic barrier (”wait, are you serious? this isn’t a marvel movie, shit like that doesn’t happen.” “wyvern, we have no other way of defining what it is, at present. just roll with it. this is the closest terminology we have.”)

so lilith had tasked them with aiding borley, seeing if we had anything on-hand that could help–whatever that looked like. even lilith wasn’t sure. if you couldn’t even tell what a wall was made of, how do you destroy it?

unfortunately for us, a large, blue book caught drake’s eye, and he reached for it. the essentials of technomancy. he frowned, and opened it.

he was elated. this was a perfect blend of technological science and summoning circles, just like the ones he’d seen seraphim and succubus do on occasion. never mind that he’d never cast a circle before, and look, there was even a list of entities right here, it’s probably just like calling a neighbor, he’d just ask one of them for help…

he then like a complete novice decided to just pick out a deity at random. his finger landed on a name: emem. the notes about them were vague, only really mentioning that they were very old, very powerful, and to be avoided unless circumstances were dire enough.

drake bit his lip, glancing at the circles on the opposite page. dire circumstances? not really. but if anyone could help them get past a literal barrier in the fabric of space-time through the use of technology, he thought–it’d be this guy.

he brought it up to wyvern first, who laughed at his face, and then more seriously told him to drop it. “we can figure this out ourselves. plus, the demons this talks about–they’re tricky. technology can sometimes be loosely defined. so can these things’ intentions. leave it alone.”

drake tried seraphim next. “absolutely fucking not.” he tried not to smile too hard when he realized that she’d had a slight scottish lilt to her voice. he wondered how many times she’d heard merlin say it.

of course, drake’s the kind of man who, when told to not do something, or that he can’t do something… well.

guess who decided to try it anyway.

now, fun fact, drake actually has a knack for circlework. whether that’s an inborn talent that was just never explored or something he’d learned enough from watching other agents remains unknown. but the point is–and also the terrible news–is that it worked.

drake was sitting cross-legged before a chalk circle, candles in their places, and an old motherboard in the center, looking into the eyes of something that sort of resembled hexxus, but made entirely of a metallic mesh that never seemed to stop moving.

“mister, uh, emem. hi.” smooth. it just blinked. “you’re probably wondering why i called you here today, y’see my name’s dr–”

there was a ear-splitting crack as this thing, realizing that drake didn’t have a fucking clue what he was doing and that no, he wasn’t going to listen to anything he had to say, thinned into nothing and shot through the wall behind him.

“… okay. may have fucked up.”

the results were immediate and disastrous. it got into the wires, it got into everything, acting as the most malevolent virus our basement crews had seen. they had to scramble to save archived files, and wyvern sprinted as soon as he realized what was happening to straight up unhook the physical gate from everything it was attached to.

too late.

as soon as it got into the gate, the machinery pulsed, and sent wyvern flying a good seven feet backwards. he stared in horror, as the big, metal circle seemed to–rot. like flesh.

he looked behind him in time to see drake, standing in the doorway, looking scared shitless.

“… what did you do?” wyvern coughed, roughly, fuck, he’d landed right on his bad shoulder–”what did you do?!”

“i was trying to help–”

“go get morgan. now. before we lose our equipment. … drake, move!”

and he found her already downstairs, standing in the artifacts room where those four monitors were.

four monitors that had been lifted from a warehouse where a much, much worse summoning than this had happened. monitors not even connected to anything anymore.

and now all four were on, all on different frequencies, one of which was whispering things that seraphim had to fight to not listen to, which led to the dialogue in the tags.

now, long story short, they did get this all sorted. seraphim and succubus essentially had to–well, exorcise the gate. driving dark spirits out of inanimate objects was infinitely harder than getting them out of living beings, because living beings could fight back. something weird gets into your aunt’s old plymouth, chances are it’s better to just let it stay inside there and move it to a junkyard.

but this was our gate. rebuilding it from scratch would be a project the likes of which we didn’t want to see. so. seraphim and succubus decided to make the executive decision that it was worth the effort, despite it being exceptionally high-risk for a multitude of factors. (”you call harry?” “yeah. told him i loved him. he and eggsy were about to head out for a mission themselves.” “well then i guess we better not die so he can tell you all about it when they get back.”)

it took them an hour and a half to draw out a circle. they had to make parts up as they went, making it equal parts purifying and warding, to keep it from getting out (”you can’t just–do like you do with people?” “… i’m sorry, did you just suggest i put my hands on that fucking thing?” “right, right, uh, sorry.”)

the ritual itself lasted over two hours. this thing would not fucking let go. seraphim went through so many psalms that she tasked drake with bringing her every single book of faith they possessed. if she had to read all of them aloud, she would. so be it. “fuck you, we don’t share our toys will bullies,” she once hissed, when a gargled sort of retching sound echoed from nowhere.

seraphim got what she described as a torrential nosebleed that stained the front of her shirt. succubus had a nasty split lip by the time they were over halfway through, swollen, red, angry.

and with just as loud a noise as it’d made slipping through the wall before–it was gone. finally fed up with holiness and magic. our tech rapidly went back to some sort of status normal, but the damage cleanup would prove to be extensive.

and after lilith found out what happened–what, you thought we’d be able to keep this from her forever?–she named drake as the head of all of it. “you are going to pay your penance for as long as it takes. and you are never, ever to attempt this again, or you will be fired. do i make myself clear?”

“yes, ma’am.”

“good. all of you are dismissed.”

but between you and i, i think what hurt him even more than the numerous sleepless nights that followed was how angry annabelle was with him when he finally told her what he’d done.

[the-roanoke-society]

tag masterlist.

a reference for the tags i use at least somewhat regularly was requested, so feast your eyes on the information below the cut. put below a cut because it got rather long. this post may be reblogged as changes are made. if any post anywhere is mis-tagged, in whatever fashion, please bring it to my attention.

updated 9.22.19. probably still missing things. feel free to use the inbox, as mentioned above.

and do keep in mind on top of what’s under that read more--i am an absolute tag goblin. i revel in hiding shit in the tags. so keep your eyes open. never know what you may see.

first it should be noted that every agent has their own tag, and if you don’t right now, you will here in a bit. i use these to reblog from everyone’s ‘source’ blogs, and also to add in aesthetics, music and such, like presents. tags like #x’s camera roll and #x afield are also a thing, along with #conversations with x,  #x’s photo box, #x’s saved messages and #things x has definitely said (sometimes while drunk or otherwise impaired).

there are also what i like to call ‘affection’ tags. it’s pretty easy to tell who’s who, because they’re pretty much always used adjacent to an agent tag, but if you want a list (again, if you don’t have one yet, trust me, one is on the way): our loyal and true (lycan), our guiding light (succubus), our comfortable silence (annabelle), our pathfinder (nova), our robin hood (sprite), our tall dark and magical (elfin), our changeling (houdini), our uplifter (arizona), our eyes in the skies (zed), librarian fair (the scribe), our safe depths (ondine), many voices one heart (specter), our restless warrior (sentinel), our hart (@gentleknighted), listening ears & a warm shoulder (raziel), our good doctor (rougarou), our guardian angel (cherub).

ship tags.

on the rocks (zed x roxy)

butterfly knife (succubus x harry)

starry eyes (nova x charlie)

rumcake (ondine x rum)

sour cocktails (succubus x tequila, seraphim x whiskey)(non-end-game ship)

the lost sacrament (seraphim x former agent enoch)(non-end-game ship)

magic & mischief (rougarou x elfin)

hymns & holograms (seraphim x merlin)

anchored hearts (specter x mothman)

lies & lessons (houdini x whiskey)(playlist forthcoming)

body shots (sprite x tequila)

holy water & silver bullets (seance x lycan platonic tag)

agents of sass & class (succubus x seraphim platonic tag)

sleight of heart (annabelle x drake)

puppy love (eggsy x lycan)

holy hell (seance x crowley)

from the ashes (arizona x phoenix)

out to sea (raziel x nereus)

devil bois (jd x chimera)

team halo (cherub x seraphim platonic tag)

ancient cares (sentinel x archivist)

ghost bros (specter x seance platonic tag)

ghostbusters (specter x seance x seraphim platonic tag)

crystals & halos (seraphim x specter platonic tag)

reaching for faith (annabelle x seraphim platonic tag)

the cat squad (sprite x seance x annabelle platonic tag but really could apply to anyone who loves cats. we have several around the manor--see the tag #manor cats--for many reasons beyond pest control, which have been lightly touched on in media such as the mummy (”look what i got.”) and constantine (”cats are good. half in, half out anyway.” ) see also: the (big) cat squad

milky way saints (nova x seraphim platonic tag)

prints on holy ground (cerberus x seraphim platonic tag)

winged ink (scribe x seraphim platonic tag)

mugwort mugshots (succubus x specter platonic tag)

secret gardens (cherub x thorn)

flora & fauna (elfin x chimera platonic tag)

grace & choice (the scribe x lillith)

safety nets (hood x rook)

angel wings (houdini x seraphim platonic tag)

second chances (nephilim x ainsel)

have faith in me (iuniore x seraphim platonic tag)

pastel goth (agave x colombina)

the time traveler’s husband (umbriel x pantalone)

royals & probots (pru x tilde)

the wonder twins (hood x thorn familial tag)

see also:

lepidoptery & lace (domestic/married life tag for butterfly knife)

white hymnals (domestic/married life tag for hymns & holograms)

over the moon (domestic/married life tag for puppy love)

black hymnals (... a bad timeline)

something for the ship tags/something for the platonic ship tags (these are for everyone; keep in mind that #x for comedic value also exists and is generally used for situations where something’s funny and definitely belongs to one of our ship tags). there’s also the #ship prompt/s tag if you need some inspiration for writing, and #x for relevance.

the #kingsman and #statesman agencies also have their own separate tags both for general posts and for posts related to specific agents. all agent!specific posts are tagged with that agent’s handle, or ‘former agent x.’ keep in mind that according to our canon, charlie hesketh was eventually given the title of #agent zenith as a member of roanoke.

it’s also important to remember that the #concerning the golden circle timeline and the #concerning the poppyacolypse tags concern two different canons--the golden circle timeline is the one in which, at the very least, merlin lost his legs. the poppyacolypse timeline is the one where merlin survived the mine in-tact, whiskey was not murdered, and charlie is eventually saved by nova and sentinel under lillith’s direction with the gate. #concerning the valentine incident is used when referring to the secret service canon events.

the #mother universe tag is used exclusively for kingsman-related material; that honor will only ever belong to the story that brought us all together.

npc roanoke agent tags.

former agent jackalope (x)/(x)

lillith (x)

mothman (x)

former agent enoch (x)

agent wearh (x)

techincal officer drake (x)

former agent thunderbird (x)

former agent skinwalker (x)

agent crowley (x)

technical officer longma (x)

the white lady (x)

agent gowrow (x)

ness of the borley council (x)

agent poltergeist (x)

former agent specter (x)

former agent rougarou (x)

former agent odin (x)

technical officer wyvern (x)

agent jotunn (x)

agent thunderbird (x)

agent chupacabra (x)

agent skinwalker (x)

agent tessie (x)

former merlin of kingsman (x)

agent wendigo (x) ... and llewellyn (x)

former agent thorn (x)

agent andhrimnir (x)

agent scape (x)

agent eerie (x)

former agent crowley (x)

agent jackalope (x)

technical officer sol (x)

canon tags.

the order of snow and sun (roanoke’s russian equivalent, based out of st. petersburg)

the borley council (roanoke’s united kingdom equivalent, based out of manchester; the leader of the council is ness.)

the washington avenue project - used for aesthetics for and information concerning north america’s only currently active stargate. (see also: mapped universe. this is a world that the crew in the basement have successfully logged and calibrated into the gate’s operation and can be accessed if given the proper permissions, such as #neon tokyo)

concerning the brennenburg mission (inspi.)

concerning the co-op mission on the moor - the mission in which hymns & holograms became canon.

concerning the mission in the hills (inspi.)

the knights of the shield and crescent (roanoke’s equivalent serving saudi arabia, yemen, jordan, iraq, iran, the united arab emirates, kuwait, bahrain, israel, qatar and oman, based out of riaydh)

dragon echelon (roanoke’s equivalent serving china, based out of beijing)

starlight kingdom (roanoke’s equivalent serving japan, based out of yokohama; #moon enterprise is the tag for their own stargate project)

la société de triomphe (roanoke’s equivalent serving france, based out of marseille)

the annual gala (concerning the huge formal event that roanoke hosts every summer solstice, serving as an opportunity for friendship, diplomacy and bonding and one-night stands. consider this a “mixer” event for all named supernaturally-inclined agencies, friends of known assorted societies, etc., eventually coming to include companies such as kingsman and statesman.)

repubblica dei lupi (roanoke’s equivalent serving italy, based out of milan)

united oceanic regions council (more information about the council can be found over at their own hub blog: @roanoke-uorc-rp​)

there are also tags roughly along the lines of #snapshots from other timelines, #in another timeline, #the x au, et. al. for events that happen outside of the scope of our actual canon. some of these are more specific, such as the #the mythology au, #the four corners au/#the same age au (brought to us by @agentargus), #the college au, #the 80s au, #the lord of the rings au, the #the high school au, #the ballet au, and #the ghibli au.

general blog tags.

#foundations - this is the tag i’ve given to the initial posts detailing the society’s founding, function and history.

#meet our cast - posts pertaining to specific agent information, and selfies if we’re really lucky, y’all gorgeous.

#the roanoke society - most generally used for general ronaoke aesthetics, information, anything that can be taken for the society as a whole. see also #society aesthetics.

#canon notes - can pertain to either kingsman/statesman canon or our own.

#society notes - generally only used when tagging posts about society!specific character or lore canon material.

#we are the veil - roanoke’s most oft used motto. put on posts that got a little extra ‘uhmph’ like positivity posts, etc.

#holidays with the society - any holiday-themed post that can be used for festive society aesthetics or has something to do with how we get down at the roanoke estate for certain events.

#these are a few of my favorite things - our community made something wonderful and i want everyone to know that i adore it.

#seraphim speaks - any ‘personal’ posts, or posts where i’m directly addressing y’all.

#this has been a public service announcement - used for awareness posts, anything dealing with general information about society current events, and the occasional positivity/mental health post. related to #community.

#mission photos - photos taken afield by various field agents; see also #on a diplomacy mission, #taken from the chopper and #diplomacy fieldwork (which is most often tagged in conjunction with @agentpru. #taken on a well-earned break and #taken on a well-deserved break are used for photos taken by one half a of a ship tag while on what i just said--a break. rest is very important, as is spending time with the ones you love.

#seraphim’s filing cabinet - seraphim is a senior field agent and has an office in the estate. if an image is tagged with this it’s very likely a physical print exists in a drawer in that room somewhere. can also apply to other documents such as written files and logs, maps, etc. see also: #jakob called jake. seraphim’s corgi has his own tag.

#mission logs - generally dialogue from recorded mission files, quotes, etc. see also #once upon a time in x.

#mission feed - short mission videos, usually on loop (gifs).

#post-mission recovery - generally saved for comforting romantic imagery. what we do is hard. it’s nice to have a soft place to land. for more platonic or comedic photos and things, please see #post-mission recovery shenanigans.

#the roanoke society mix tape - background music for if this ever gets made into anything by someone with more money and resources than i currently possess. fortune favors the prepared and i have an excellent ear. related to: #fight song and #group versus (these are the tracks that i imagine playing when we have to make a team effort to conquer ‘a big bad’)

#in the kitchens - anything food related. most of this is from @agentondine.

#home movies - important video files that aren’t directly mission-related.

#mission files - information directly from a case folder both electronically stored and non. can be a transcribed interview, photographs, video, etc.

#society interiors, #society decor, #roanoke safehouse, #society exteriors, #safehouse interiors, #safehouse exteriors - tags dealing with the architectural/design/decorative aesthetics of the roanoke estate and our safehouses.

#mission themes, #background noise, #theme music - general background soundtrack tunes for both daily life around the estate and for work on the field.

#in the garage - all our toys with wheels. a few with wings.

#things to consider - notes on canon that aren’t verified, but are worth thinking about.

#the things we carry - angst tag.

#mission video, #mission footage - video file from an electronically-saved case folder. view with caution. some files are older and have since been archived. speaking of...

#from the archives - this may include older printed documents, mission files or aged footage from fieldwork.

#life at roanoke - for posts that give a glimpse (or a listen) into what our day-to-day life is like around the estate. best things in life are free, and ‘tis a gift, simpleness.

#bound files - information/imagery from mission folders that are restricted.

#friends of the society - allies of our organizations, both in our timeline and out. (see also #ghost adventures cohorts, #buzzfeed cohorts and #our good doctor; variations on this tag include #friends of the agency and #friends of the kingdom, depending on the context of the associated group)

#we raise up our glasses against evil forces - anything booze related, especially recipes.

#the memory hall - a place to rest in remembrance of those who have gone before us. see also #a moment of silence for the fallen

#field guide - practical information concerning work afield. see also #field notes and #field research.

#from the media room - video files from our general media storage, some related to casework, some not. related to #cursed tapes--a vast majority of haunted or otherwise possessed media has been transferred to vhs because of its “aging out” as a storage device. these are kept in their own storage area on a basement level.

#from the library - books we’ve got on hand, for whatever reason.

#lab photos - imagery processed by the lab crews downstairs.

#mission audio, #audio feed - sounds and audio files from afield.

#resources - important documents/information for work both on and off-field.

#from sprite’s workshop, #weapons development, #tactical gear - concerning contemporary weaponry/weaponry development courtesy @agent-sprite and the lab crew and weapons history. shouldn’t always move forward if you don’t know from whence you came.

#jazz night at the estate - exactly what it sounds like. tune in for the mix.

#mission imagery - general afield aesthetics.

#a well-deserved break, #a well-earned break - work/life balance, people!

#society witches - because we have more than a handful on staff. these are generally aesthetic or appreciation posts for the agents who happen to practice craft. related to #society women.

#the bad timeline - a fucking mistake.

due to tumblr’s asinine enforcement of nsfw material, we do try to take care to tag things that are a bit more citrus in nature (bringing back the lemon tag system of the fandom days of old). #lemon, #lemonish and variations of #deluxe lemon are currently in use. feel free to add to your block lists if you have no desire to see suggestive or explicit material.

[cringemonkey]

Ever consider making a personal Wukong design? :0

slams my fists down

LONG STORY SHORT YES!!!

and if its okay i would like to take you all on a journey through my creative process that took. like. a month cause im slow

so when i first started brainstorming i basically took a bunch of my favorite elements of various wukongs and mashing them together

obviously this doesnt look good but thats the point!! its for me to slap shit on the wall and see what sticks

then i was like hrrmmgggg maybe change fur color? so i did

and i made him pink cause i said so.

but now the issue is his color scheme. i had to choose my favorite clothing designs while also letting some go and i really liked the idea of wukong not knowing how to dress so i gave him a robe a couple sizes too big (also was inspired by 1986 wukong!)

during this phase i had 3 ideas grounded

1. long! hair! wukong!

2. 86 wukong’s tiger pelt!!!

3. make him covered in fur completely.

i was still kinda ehhhh about the pink skin cause i felt like it just made his eyes look like he was scalded alive.

but here i basically decided to reallllyyyy tone down his color scheme so its mostly greys and blacks cause i wanted his robe and face to pop. also funny how he went from a yellowish fur to green grey but what can you do.

however. there was one thing i still wasnt happy with

his hair length.... simply didnt hit as hard as i wanted it to. so guess what i did

fucking. MAKE IT A MANE NOW THERES A WUKONG I CAN GET BEHIND. 500 YEARS UNDER A MOUNTAIN WILL MAKE YOUR HAIR OVERGROWN AS HELL

i also made his tiger pelt a sort of 2 piece (IDK THE ACTUAL TERMJDIDJIDJ) so i replaced his cloth with a sort of tiger scarf

and may i say. the vibes are excellent. i finally had a wukong i was happy with :) unfortunately i had to ditch the pink skin to make his eyes look red but i like it much more like this!

anyways thank you for the ask and sorry it took so long to answer!! my creative process is slow cause my brain is tiny

but either way im sure our wukongs would be good pals!!!!