#chapter covers of characters that aren't involved | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucagray813 · 10 days ago

Text

Shadow - Chapter 4

Title: Deep Down

Rating: T

Word Count: ~10,000

Characters: Wukong, Macaque

Relationships: Macaque/Wukong

Summary: Building something better together often means addressing past and present insecurities. There's still time for some silliness and a first kiss though.

Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, Acquired Disability, Slice of Life, DBK is called Niú, PIF is called Gōngzhǔ

CW: brief mention of sex and unhealthy relationships

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev | Next

----

Wukong wasn't a particularly nosey person by nature, he didn't like not being in the know, sure but generally he didn't feel the need to go out of his way to get in on gossip that didn't involve him. That was unless, of course, he was specifically told to stay out of it or some other variation of "No, you're not allowed.". Then suddenly it was all he could think about! And unfortunately this had been the case with Macaque and his new lantern.

Outside helping him locate some materials, Macaque point blank refused to let him see how it was progressing and after several failed, and sometimes painful, attempts to sneak a peak, Wukong had little choice but to accept he wasn't getting to know. Didn't mean he liked it however and any time he knew Macaque was off to work on it he couldn't help but sulk.

"Are you seriously still pouting over my new lantern? Why do you even care? You'll see it when it's done."

Honestly, it wasn't about the lantern. He was sure it would be cool and all but the fact that Macaque had told him no was driving him a little nuts, "C'mon, just let me see what you've done so far! Why's it taking so long anyway?"

"Hey, I'd like to see you try creating a container for the very essence of your magic, see how long it takes you."

Wukong paused in his rebuttal, and struck a thoughtful pose, "Huh. Now there's an idea. What would that even do? How would it look?"

He tore out some fur to create some paper and crayons and started doodling. Truthfully, he didn't really need or want an artefact containing his power - that sounded like a disaster waiting to happen - but he was very curious as to what it would be.

Macaque, well used to him going off on tangents, just settled down beside him as shadows engulfed the crayon he was currently using. He obligingly went over anything he'd already done so a very faint trail of shadows now covered it. Macaque hummed, "Isn't the staff already the embodiment of your magic?"

He tapped the crayon against his chin, "I guess it is but I didn't make it, y'know? We just found each other and sort of clicked. It's not made out of my magic, just responds really, really well to it."

"That's how it started but I think it's fair to say that it's become so heavily saturated with your magic that there's basically no difference. Also, really? A lantern?"

He had started scribbling variations of the traditional Chinese paper lantern, which were in no way inspired by Macaque's sinister looking creation, "Look, it's not my fault you chose to be all ironic with your artefact! My magic is bright! A lantern makes sense! I don't even know what my ironic equivalent would be... Sunglasses?"

He proceeded to sketch out a couple of ideas to that effect, "Hey, y'know what? These aren't half bad! I should call my marketing team and get these bad boys in production!"

Macaque scoffed, "Oh yeah, that's just what the world needs - more Monkey King trash."

He gasped in offense, "Excuse me? Trash? People love my merchandise!"

"You mean, you love your merchandise."

"Well, obviously! I'm not going to sign off on anything that I don't think is cool! But I have impeccable taste. I can even show you the numbers to prove it! They're in my emails somewhere..."

Somewhere amongst a large number of unread emails from his lawyer and various other people that worked on his brand were sales figures he was sure. He really should put aside time to deal with those other emails though before his lawyer made another surprise visit to his shame temple and forced him to look over copyright infringement documents.

Ugh, just the thought of it was enough to make him feel sluggish. Better to design cool artefacts and merch now, and worry about boring paperwork later. Yup, good plan.

Macaque plucked the crayon from his hand and started adding to his doodles, "I'm not surprised anyone that likes you has no sense of style."

He quipped back, "Guess that explains your fashion sense then."

Macaque snorted, "Really? That's your comeback? I'm literally wearing clothes you made."

He picked up another crayon as he huffed, "Yeah but I made them all dark and gloomy to go with your whole vibe. So, y'know, you're welcome for that."

Well mostly dark and gloomy. He'd been permitted to embroider some cute little details here and there. Flowers and flora mostly, although he had also made some logo-esque designs of the island, and, of course, thrown in some monkeys for good measure. They were pretty subtle additions but he was happy with them. He'd been good as well and hadn't even snuck in anything he hadn't told Macaque about.

Well... Maybe there were one or two flowers that had tiny little smiles on them but that was harmless - artistic liberty was all it was. Macaque wouldn't care.

For fun he started to draw a Monkey King™ version of Macaque's old lantern and the thought struck him, "Hey, how did you actually come up with the idea for the lantern in the first place?"

He'd made it during Wukong's time under the mountain, a fact he only knew because he had seen references to it in some old notes he'd found in one of his many visits to Macaque's room after he'd returned from the Journey. But the less time thought about that the better.

"Hm? Oh, it was actually Niú's idea."

Now, Wukong was as big a fan of DBK as the next guy but he couldn't say he was well known for ideas beyond "seize and conquer" and "smash and pillage". Well, maybe he was being a bit unfair - these days Niú could be pretty thoughtful but OG DBK? He was sure his disbelief must have been palpable.

Macaque let out a small laugh, "Yeah, yeah. I know. But I think his cousin or something had a similar artefact he used to store and build up magic reserves for when they needed it. I was, er, struggling a little bit at the time. A lot going on following the War on Heaven..." He seemed to get caught up in his thoughts for a moment before he shook himself out of it, "And yeah, so the lantern was born."

On a different day, he would no doubt ask after the details of Macaque's perspective on what happened after he was locked away. He had some ideas based on stories from the monkeys but he was sure Macaque would have tried to save them from the worst of it.

For now, he focused on the more confusing detail, "Wait... It was just meant to be for magic backup?"

Macaque nodded, "Yup." He then corrected himself, "Well, sort of. I had always planned to "feed" it so it wouldn't be using up my personal reserves but that's the tricky thing with an artefact like this. You generally end up pouring a little bit of yourself into it as you make it and I did top it up with my magic on occasion as well. And, as you know, raw magic can make all sorts of things happen. Especially if there's a little bit of soul there to guide it."

His expression was deadpan, "Like giving it the power to kidnap people and make their shadows fight for you?"

Macaque shrugged, "Hey, I didn't plan for it but I wasn't going to not use it. That would be ludicrous."

Eh, no point arguing over it. He decided he didn't want to think too closely about what that said about Macaque either. Instead he asked, "You think your new lantern will be the same?"

"Hard to say. I'm not quite what I once was. Who knows what it'll do."

"Are you hoping it will be the same?"

"Well, it would be handy if it had some of those same accidental features but what I'm really hoping to achieve is a sort of "charger" I can use if I can't get to the Void for whatever reason. You know, end of the world sort of BS or whatever. So almost less of a magic store and more of a shadow store."

That was a pretty good shout actually. They had been trialling Macaque going there for a day a week to see if that made a difference but there could easily be situations where they needed him to stick around here for a while.

He supposed that could be part of why it was taking so long to create but he was more curious about what his own artefact would do, "I wonder what sort of unintended side effects my magic would have...?"

"Probably just hoover up every peach within a five mile radius."

"What! There's more to me than peaches, y'know!"

He continued to grumble as Macaque just shrugged, "Wants and desires are some of the easiest things to accidentally impart alongside magic."

He wasn't wrong but still he felt indignant, "Oh yeah? Well, what does that say about how your lantern turned out?"

Macaque quietly focused on drawing for a moment before he solemnly offered, "I have some theories but none of them are particularly pleasant." Wukong pressed his arm a little closer against his but Macaque rallied before he could question him, "It would have been pretty great if I had accidentally given the lantern a theatrical twist. Outfit changes for everyone in range depending on my mood or maybe it played thematically appropriate music depending on the situation. That would have been fun."

Wukong wavered. He could leave it, take this out Macaque clearly wanted him to take and carry on with this lighthearted conversation while they drew silly little doodles together. It was the easy option, the safe option.

But that didn't mean it was the right option and he wanted to know. He put down the art supplies and looped his arm around Macaque's, gently he asked, "Tell me about your theories?"

Macaque's tone was light, "Ah, why ruin a good time with something that doesn't even matter?"

"You're not ruining anything, I'm asking, aren't I? And, of course, it matters. It matters because you and your feelings matter, dummy."

He wanted to know everything he had missed in Macaque's life but more than that he had a feeling these thoughts on why the lantern's power manifested the way it did still weighed on him. Or at the very least that working on the new lantern may have opened some old wounds. He didn't just want to ignore it, he wanted Macaque to know he could confide in him, that he could trust him, even with the parts of himself he wasn't proud of.

Shadow tendrils brought the paper back to Macaque and Wukong watched as he doodled nothing, clearly just wanting something else to focus on while he answered. After a moment, he explained, "Everything had been beyond my control for so long, even before the War... More than anything, I just wanted everything to be how it was supposed to be. How I thought it was supposed to be anyway."

A truly regrettable constant of life before his imprisonment had been how little he had listened to Macaque, particularly after the Brotherhood had been formed. They could have all saved themselves a lot of trouble if they had taken the time to actually hear any of his concerns. He could see how that desire to be heard could manifest magic that forced people to do as he said.

Macaque continued, "But maybe I'm giving myself too much credit and deep down I've just always been someone that wants to control others, to manipulate them how I see fit. The number of stunts I pulled or lies I told just to try and get you to stay with me, for even a little longer."

"Macaque, that's not-"

He spoke over him, voice raising in volume slightly as he did so, "But then that's really what's at the heart of it, isn't it? I just couldn't make you stay, I couldn't make anyone stay, but the lantern could." He laughed bitterly, "Pathetic and needy - that's all I was. That's what was at the lantern's core. You know what the worst part is though? Deep down, I don't even know if I have changed. Because despite everything, all I want is what I've always wanted."

His whole body seemed to sag in defeat and Wukong didn't hesitate to wrap an arm around him as Macaque's head found his shoulder, but he took a moment to really think about how to respond.

Pathetic and needy were not words he would use to describe Macaque, not in any genuine capacity anyway. If anything, they felt more applicable to him these days. Macaque actually had friends that weren't monkeys and did plenty that didn't involve him in any way. And while Wukong was working on having the same he couldn't deny that part of him just wanted Macaque here and all to himself.

Don't even get him started on how he moped when the other was gone. It wasn't fair to call it a role reversal - Macaque could be gone for days at a time but Wukong used to leave the island with barely a goodbye for years, if not decades with no hint of when he might return. But he was sure the anxious, antsy feeling he got while waiting for Macaque to return was at least a taste of what Macaque had felt all those centuries ago.

He also thought it was undeniable that Macaque had changed, they both had, and overall Wukong would say for the better. Macaque stood his ground much better than he used to, he didn't just follow his lead and try to disregard any uncertainty he felt. He made sure he was heard.

Wukong couldn't say he loved all the lengths Macaque had previously gone to in order to achieve such but he thought he'd found a pretty good balance recently.

He was sure it was helped by him actually making an effort to listen to him. They were still working on it but what they had now was leagues better than what they'd had before. It felt like they were finally on even footing.

Eventually, he tried, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think what you want is actually exactly the same as it used to be. I mean, how could it be? I'm different, you're different, what we have is different... All of it for the better, I think. Maybe on the face of it, what you want is still the same but what that actually looks like must be different, right?"

A younger Wukong had never pictured a life together with Macaque, but he had never doubted that Macaque would always be there - his best friend, his right hand man... And his most loyal subject. The very thought of it made him cringe now but the truth of the matter was while he'd loved Macaque, he'd loved being the Monkey King more.

Honestly, it felt like a miracle that Macaque ever wanted to be with him in any capacity. Things had been different before his first immortality, more equal, but with each subsequent step away from death he inadvertently took a step away from Macaque, creating an unfathomable distance between them. One Macaque could never have hoped to have overcome, not on his own.

The man he had been didn't deserve to be by Macaque's side like this. And while he was by no means perfect now, he was a far cry from the selfish person he'd once been. Surely, when Macaque pictured them together, it was as they were now and not who they had been.

Macaque let out a little huff, before admitting, "Like night and day. When I think back to what I used to picture, it just seems so... childish now."

"Well, we were pretty young with no plans of growing old. Funny how despite not actually aging I sometimes feel ancient."

"Yeah, you look it too."

"Ugh, shut up."

The moment of levity passed and Wukong took a breath, "I don't think you were pathetic or needy for wanting me to stick around. And I don't hold any tricks or lies against you for it. It would be pretty hypocritical of me if I did."

Tricks and lies were an unfortunate staple of his legacy and he wasn't innocent of using them on Macaque either. In hindsight, their relationship really hadn't been the healthiest in many regards.

He continued, "I think you might have been on to something with your first theory. Everything was falling apart around you, in no small part because no-one had listened to you, it makes sense that deep down you'd want some way to fix it all. But then again, we might be looking into this way too hard. Maybe that's just what concentrated shadow magic likes to do."

Macaque sighed tiredly, "I suppose only time will tell."

He shook him ever so slightly, "Hey, whatever happens with your new lantern, we'll deal with it. Together. Alright?"

He could just see the slight smile on Macaque's face from this angle, "God knows what I saw in the old you when the new you is like this."

He couldn't help but puff up somewhat proudly, "Yeah, I had a "glow up"."

Macaque snorted, "You've been spending too much time with the kids."

Actually, he was fairly certain he'd gotten that one somewhere online but he wasn't just going to hand him that sort of ammo, "Hey, just because we're old doesn't mean we can't move with the times!"

Predictably, the next hour or so was lost to discussing the wonders and horrors that this new age had brought into the world but even their impassioned arguing couldn't tear him away from Macaque's side.

----

Wukong had developed a little bit of a habit that only really showed itself while he was snuggled up in bed just before they went to sleep. If he was feeling down, melancholy or hell, just particularly smitten he would all but smother Macaque in gentle touches and soft kisses, placing them wherever he could reach.

He hadn't realised however that he had unconsciously started focusing all his attention on areas he knew the worst of Macaque's scars were hidden under his glamours. Macaque generally tolerated it but today even he could admit he was being a bit much.

But in his defence, Macaque had taken an impromptu visit to the Void for a couple of days after an incident while he was visiting Niú and Gōngzhǔ and he had been somewhat stressed in the interim.

From what he understood, from the varying degrees of guilty explanations from MK, Mei and Red Son, there had been a slight accident in Red Son's lab. There may have been a tiny, little explosion that they and Macaque might have gotten caught up in. He'd been confused, yet wary, as to why they were telling him this and not Macaque. An explosion, particularly a small one, wasn't much to any of them.

However, said explosion, had set off a chain reaction that had maybe, possibly resulted in a sort of magical flash bomb - that Macaque had not responded well to at all. Well, none of them had, it had taken hours for their vision to be restored and that was with the help of a specialized healer but Macaque's scream had sounded truly agonised before he had disappeared.

In hindsight, the resulting lecture he'd given them had been a bit too harsh and they clearly hadn't expected him to be so angry with them. Even angrier than Niú and Gōngzhǔ had been apparently. He'd almost reduced MK to tears. He had since apologised for such a sharp tongue lashing and had accepted some wary teasing over being so overprotective to prove there were no hard feelings.

And maybe he was being just a touch too worried but the kids didn't know about Macaque being more sensitive to light than most, especially since his resurrection. Something like this had happened before and given even Macaque didn't know the full extent of how his body had changed - this could have been a real disaster.

Thankfully, a quick astral projection had confirmed that he was alright and he'd be back soon. He tried to downplay the whole thing - saying it had just caught him off guard - but Wukong could see that it had rattled him.

And now that he was back, Wukong had been annoyingly clingy. He just resisted the urge to check him over with his golden vision, but he was still pretty in his face and handsy. Physically looking him over and interrogating him all the while. When he was finally satisfied that he was more or less okay, he'd still kept a close eye on him for the rest of the day. Which had resulted in Macaque snapping at him more than once to give him some space, outright threatening to leave if he didn't knock it off.

He had mostly gotten a hold of himself by the time they'd gone to bed but once they'd laid down for the night he found he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

He felt Macaque sigh as he kissed his shoulder for what might have been the hundredth time, "Wukong, I'm fine."

"I know, I know. Look, tomorrow I promise I'll be totally chill about it but just let me make a fuss of you tonight, alright?"

Macaque questioned him, "Are you going to be like this every time something like this happens?"

For the foreseeable, Wukong thought the answer was probably yes. It was one thing for Macaque to be injured - they both got hurt all the time during training, or because an argument had gotten physical, or because they were helping MK with some hero stuff, or just because something really dumb had happened - but anything to do with his shadows put him on edge.

It was the unknown element, he didn't know how to judge how bad an incident was involving them. A normal physical injury, Macaque would recover from easily and he wouldn't even really feel the pain for the most part. But something like this was uncharted territory and it made him unbelievably anxious over Macaque's wellbeing.

And the worst of it was there was nothing he could do to help. He could patch up an injury, he couldn't do anything if Macaque was in the Void. He couldn't even get there! They'd tried to portal him there once but he just ended up right where he started, honestly it was probably a small miracle he could even astral project there.

"C'mon, cut me some slack. This is the first time something like this has really happened. I think this is a pretty normal way to react. Don't tell me you wouldn't be worried, if it had been the other way around. If I got hurt in some new way and then you couldn't see me for days."

Begrudgingly Macaque seemed to accept this, "Fine. But could you at least stop just focusing on where my scars are?"

He had blinked at him, not quite comprehending what he'd said for a moment, before looking at where his hand was rubbing circles on his right arm, "Oh. I didn't even realise that I... Uh, yeah! I think I can manage that." Somewhat embarrassed at not having realised, he tried to turn the tables, "Was your left side getting jealous?"

Macaque snorted, "Sure, if that makes you feel better, then let's go with that."

It was a little while later when Wukong had finally had his fill and was just lying with his head on Macaque's chest that he asked, "Does it bother you when I touch your scars?"

"Nah, not really. It's just sort of weird when that's all you focus on. You really hadn't noticed? You've been doing it a lot since you found out they were there."

"I guess I just wasn't thinking about it. But I promise, I will no longer neglect my duty to love on all of you."

"Gross."

"Yeah, agreed. It's your fault though - making me feel all mushy. You just need to suffer the consequences."

Macaque laughed, "Oh, of course, this is all my fault. Ah well, there are worse things I could be suffering through."

"Ah, just admit it. You like when you've got all my attention."

No amount of needling could get Macaque to admit to that but Wukong didn't need a confession to know it was true.

----

Evenings were still generally spent on the couch watching TV. They did occasionally have something in mind to watch but more often than not they just chose whatever was there that had an audio description, that they hadn't seen. It could be real hit or miss sometimes but even if a show was bad, they could at least have fun complaining about it.

They never paid any mind to age ratings and when tonight's movie had turned out to have quite a graphic sex scene in it, Wukong hadn't even batted an eye. Unexpected but not anything either of them hadn't seen before. He thought Macaque might make a comment on the sound effects but instead he had dissolved into a fit of laughter.

Not wanting to miss out on the joke, he had asked, "What? What's funny? What did I miss?"

Macaque handed him the tablet, that had quietly been playing the audio descriptions, "Go back to the start of the sex scene. You have to listen to this."

Audio descriptions, generally, were delivered in a neutral voice or with a little bit of story telling flair and they were to the point descriptions of what was happening on the screen in between characters talking. They were all usually pretty good but like most things in life some were better than others.

This however had to be the dryest description of sex that had ever been recorded. The guy almost sounded like he was trying to physically distance himself from what was happening. He had half been expecting to hear overly detailed erotica but this was way funnier.

After they'd calmed down, he reassured Macaque that the actual visuals were nowhere near as unexciting. A delighted and mischievous grin came to Macaque's face as he casually leaned back in his seat, "Oh really? Let's see if you can do a better job then. Start it again and tell me what's happening."

"You can't be serious."

"Aw. What's the matter? You too embarrassed?"

Sex wasn't something that bothered him to talk about, he'd been surrounded by monkeys his whole life - sex happened anywhere and everywhere - it was like discussing the weather at this point. So he wasn't at all embarrassed in that respect, but having to describe a romantic sex scene to Macaque and not make it sound as awkward as the audio description? He could already feel his tongue getting tied in knots.

But never let it be said that Sun Wukong ever backed down from a challenge - no matter how stupid or inconsequential it was.

So with as much dignity as he could, he stumbled his way through the scene. It might not have been so bad if Macaque hadn't been going out of his way to make it more difficult by picking on his word choice, or asking questions and pressing him for excruciating details. His only saving grace was that Macaque couldn't see how red his face was.

It was as Macaque was pestering him about how they were kissing that he broke, "They're kissing! What more do you need to know?"

Macaque's grin was infuriatingly gleeful, "There's more than one way to kiss someone - c'mon, just tell me exactly what you can see, or are you just not up to the task?"

He cursed himself for being so easy to goad. He tried his best to explain exactly how they were kissing but it was almost worse than describing the actual sex, "Ugh! It's kissing! It is what it is! I'd have to give you a demonstration if you want more than that!"

Macaque's expression became sly, "Well, why don't you then?"

He stared at him, "What...?"

"Come and kiss me. Show me how it's done."

He thought his brain might have stopped working for a moment but when it finally came back online he wasn't convinced his face wasn't actually on fire, "What!? You- You can't be serious!"

Macaque just continued to thrive in the situation he'd created, "Oh? What makes you think I'm not?"

He floundered, before somewhat nervously he pointed out, "You... You won't really be able to feel it."

Macaque shrugged, "I can feel through our magic."

"Yeah... But is that enough?"

"Guess we'll find out.

He felt incredibly unsure about this. It was one thing to give each other a peck on the cheek or something - the intent was really more important than the actual action. But actually, like, proper kissing? There's no way Macaque could get nearly as much out of it as he could. It didn't feel fair.

But... At the same time, Macaque was the one asking and it's not like Wukong was against the idea...

He must have taken too long thinking about it because Macaque commented, "What's the hold up, Monkey King? Ah, wait, I forgot - you're all enlightened now, aren't you? Kissing off the table, huh?"

Well, technically, but-!

"Oh no, wait! I know what it is! You just don't want me to know how bad you are at it. That's it, right? Been awhile, huh?"

Indignantly, he responded, "No! I'm just trying to be considerate!"

He was the Monkey King! He was good at everything! It didn't even matter that he could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd kissed someone, or that it had been centuries ago! Or, y'know maybe longer...

When Master Subhodi had told him cardinal desire had to go if he wanted to obtain immortality, he'd had no issue doing so. He'd never been that big on sex or the rest of it in the first place - no skin off his nose.

But he was finding it impossible to fight the need to wipe that smug smirk from Macaque's face, especially when he continued to push, "That so? Well, why don't you come over here and prove it then? You've ticked your chivalry box - no further consideration needed."

Without letting himself focus on much more than his determination to shut Macaque up, he moved until he straddled his lap. Macaque's hands came to rest comfortably on his hips, as he brought his hands up to either side of Macaque's face.

He paused for a moment, taking a breath in order to declare war, but the words never even had a chance to leave his mouth as Macaque stole his thunder by moving a hand to the back of his head and bringing their lips together.

He got over the initial shock quickly and put his all into showing up Macaque, who apparently knew a hell of a lot more about how to kiss someone than he did. But that didn't matter - he was a fast learner, he'd have this down in no time.

Although time seemed to soon lose all meaning and the competitive fire gave way to something softer but no less passionate. He realised that Macaque responded well to any little sound he made, hands kneading at his hips or responding with sounds of his own. So he let go of any pride or embarrassment and didn't hold them back.

He felt a little hazy when Macaque finally pulled away from him and Wukong found himself enamoured by the faint blush on Macaque's cheeks and the fond look in his eyes. Macaque laughed lowly, "Not bad, Wukong." He nodded to the TV, "Can't help but feel you went a little off script though."

He'd long forgotten what had kicked this all off but he matched Macaque's grin, "Damn, you're right. Guess we'll just have to start again."

He thought it was a crime that he'd never felt Macaque's smile against his own before now.

---

Making out? Big success. Wukong was a little convinced his younger self must have not given it a proper chance because it was pretty great. And he was absolutely down to doing that again once he'd had a proper chat with Macaque about it. He had questions - some more pressing than others - and he wouldn't be satisfied until he had answers.

He tended to be up earlier than Macaque, so after a breakfast of fresh fruit with the monkeys, he went to see if he was still in bed. And the answer was a resounding no, he could just call Macaque's name - if he was on the island he would definitely hear him - but rarely did Macaque ever respond to being shouted for, not unless there was some real urgency to his voice.

It didn't really matter though, there was no rush to find him, so he took his time as he searched, eventually being led in the right direction by some monkeys that had heard some music over on the north side of the mountain. And soon enough he was following the sounds right to the source.

Eyes closed as he played on an èrhú, Macaque didn't even acknowledge him as he arrived, but Wukong didn't doubt that he knew he was here. He walked over and sat beside him, closing his own eyes as he leaned back and listened to him play. He didn't recognise the tune but it was nice, if not a little melancholic.

He didn't protest as Macaque seamlessly moved on to another song, happy to just sit for a while.

Once Macaque had finished the last one, he commented, "You've picked that up again fast."

Macaque just hummed, "It was always one of my favourite instruments to play, I suppose I've prioritised it over any others."

"Were you just out here practicing?"

"Well, I was more composing than practicing but then you showed up."

He perked up slightly, "Was that first song the one you're working on for me?"

Macaque shrugged, "Might be. I've come up with a couple of different melodies. That was just one of them."

"Man, you're really serious about making this song, huh?"

He huffed a small laugh, "Well, someone demanded the whole shebang. I'm not going to let this be the time I underperform."

He still wasn't sure what angle Macaque was going to take on this song - whether it would be lighthearted or genuine but either way he was sure it would be memorable. He was actually sort of looking forward to it and he was strangely content with it being a surprise.

"It sounds good so far. But I didn't come to crash your jam session. I wanted to ask you some stuff about yesterday."

Macaque sighed as if put upon, "I figured as much."

Wukong scooched closer to him and jabbed him in the side, directing some of his magic to his fingers so he could feel it. Macaque jolted slightly before scowling, but Wukong ignored him as he admonished, "Hey, we work better when we actually talk about things so suck it up."

"Just get on with it."

"Ok, ok. So... kissing? Yea or nay?"

Macaque raised an eyebrow at him, "You really have to ask? I thought it was clearly a "yea" for both of us."

"Well, yeah. But I guess I just don't understand why? Like, you couldn't really feel it, right?"

"I already told you I can "feel" through magic. I felt you zap me just there, didn't I?"

"First of all, I didn't zap you, you big baby. But I deliberately manipulated my magic to do that - I didn't do anything like that while we were making out... Wait. Should I have?"

Macaque snorted, "As if you had the mental faculties to focus on forming magic."

He definitely could have done it! Would have taken him out of the mood slightly but it was doable! He was willing to bet with a bit of practice he could do it without even having to think about it.

"That's neither here or there! You know what I'm getting at - when I feel someone else's magic it's big picture stuff - like knowing how much of it there is and if it's doing something it shouldn't. You must be getting more than that."

Macaque seemed to weigh up how to respond before he sighed as if resigned, "Alright, fine. Just bear with me while I try and explain it. It doesn't really lend itself to words well. Ok, so magic. At a super basic level you might think it's just a flow of energy that exists within you that you can call upon for spells or the like. But look a little deeper and you'll see that it's as alive and complicated as the rest of you. Probably more so."

Wukong knew this, and he was sure Macaque knew he knew this too, but he nodded his understanding rather than complain about it.

Macaque continued, "Magic responds to everything. And for the most part we're not aware of it, just like we're not aware of our organs or what they're doing at any given moment. But when I say magic responds to everything, I mean everything. It responds to every function of your body and mind, and to every external factor you can think of - weather, environment, other people. The list is literally endless."

Wukong watched as Macaque looked towards his hands as shadow tendrils snaked around his fingers, "I'm a lot more reliant on magic than I used to be, so I'm much more aware of my magic and others. Unfortunately, another person's magic is not as easy a thing to understand as your own. Largely, because it's reacting to so much all at once that it can be damn near impossible to isolate anything in particular and it's not reacting in the same way your own might. It's like... a massively complicated network written in a language you don't know. That nobody knows."

Wukong pointed to himself, "Surely, I would know? Couldn't you just ask me?"

With a flat look, Macaque responded, "Describe your magic."

"What? You know what my magic feels like though."

"Pretend I don't. How would you describe it to me? How would you differentiate it from someone else's?"

"Well... It's... Bright? And sort of warm? And there's just a crazy amount of it?"

"Now, how would you describe MK's magic?"

"Ah. Well, it's like mine but it's, er, different...? Younger...?"

At Macaque's smug look he conceded, "Alright, alright. You were right. Magic doesn't really like to be put into words. It's something you just feel. You can't describe it super specifically but you don't need to! If I had MK, Mei and Red Son here and asked a stranger to close their eyes and point to the one with the super hot fiery magic. That would be enough!"

"Sure but how would they pick out Red Son's magic in a crowd of a hundred fire magic users if they didn't know him?"

He huffed, "Alright, fine. You've made your point. I still think you could have asked for my help to "figure out" my magic."

Macaque's grin was mischievous, "I did in a way. The best way I've found to learn so far is just through "feeling" it in different scenarios so I may have got you to do one or two odd things to see if it did anything."

Extremely wary, he asked, "Like what...?"

"Well, you remember a couple of weeks ago I bet you that you couldn't do a thousand back flips one after the other?"

"You little shit! I was so dizzy I puked!"

Macaque pulled a face, "Yeah, that was nasty. And then the other day I bet you couldn't handle Red Son's spiciest hot sauce."

He couldn't believe this - he'd actually been in tears after that! Alright, note to self, stop falling for Macaque saying "I bet you can't..."!

"How is tormenting me helping you learn anything!?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. It's not like I sit and plot ways to make you suffer. You literally set yourself up for both of those situations, I just gave you the motivation to actually put your money where your mouth was."

Ugh, he was right. He was sure for the former they'd been watching some sort of extreme demon gymnastics on TV and he'd commented that none of it would be hard for him. The latter, he'd been laughing at MK and Mei as they rolled about after just a drop of one of Red Son's "mild" hot sauces. Macaque had, at most, just upped the ante slightly in both cases.

He crossed his arms with a huff, "That doesn't matter! I don't appreciate being treated like a demon guinea pig!"

"Oh please. Half the time, I don't need to say anything - you just do stupid things on your own."

He felt his eye twitch, but he heroically attempted to bring them back on course, "How is any of this relevant to us making out!?"

Macaque held his hands up in a placating gesture, "I was getting there. Look, let's try the language metaphor again. So say someone tells you a joke in a language you don't understand. You might still react to it - maybe in confusion or maybe you can tell it's supposed to be a joke and laugh anyway - but it won't be because you genuinely found the meaning of the words funny.

You'd have to know the language but once you do, not only can you understand, you can also respond. And not just with laughter, you could reply, add to the joke, keep it going. It's not a perfect metaphor but basically the better I understand your magic, the better my magic can respond to it."

"Ok, that makes sense but..."

Macaque waved him off, "Let's say you kiss me on the cheek. I can't physically feel it but it's not hard to figure out what you've done. Getting to know your magic better though I can feel how it responds to you kissing me. Like I said, it responds to everything - how your muscles are moving to make it happen and how you feel about what you're doing. So while my skin can't feel it, I'm "feeling" a whole lot through your magic."

He wasn't quite sure why he felt vaguely embarrassed that Macaque could sort of "feel" how he was feeling but he ignored it in favour of making a leap in logic, "Wait, wait, so are you saying that me feeling good making out makes you feel good making out?"

Macaque snorted, "Well, you'd hope that'd be the case regardless but in a more literal sense, yeah, sort of. It's still a work in progress, especially understanding how the physical sensations factor in, but I've gotten pretty good at identifying strong emotions but I think that's generally the easiest thing to parse from magic."

He was already feeling pretty positive about future make out sessions so he allowed himself to ponder on the logistics of magic, "Do you think if you were able to feel things fully through touch then you'd be able to figure out how your magic reacts to physical sensation? Which in turn would make it easier to know how my magic responds to it? If you get what I'm saying."

He was sure he'd explained that inelegantly but Macaque seemed to understand, "You're asking if I knew how my magic worked down to the minute detail, would I then be able to apply that knowledge to yours?"

At his nod, Macaque shook his head, "Doubt it. Every person's magic is different - a totally different language. I've been trying to figure out Niú and Gōngzhǔ's magic to an extent as well but nothing I learn about one of you is applicable to the others. Not even helpful comparing them most of the time."

He frowned, "Your own magic has to play a part in this somehow though, right?"

"Well, yeah. But that's even more of a work in progress - there's a few ideas I'm playing with. Roughly summed up they're my magic reacting to, interacting with and emulating yours. The third one is probably akin to a nightmare of a translation job, the second I've been somewhat reluctant to try without you knowing about it but the first one I've had some success with. But like I said, the better I understand, the better my magic reacts."

He couldn't help but feel a little put out, "Why didn't you tell me about any of this? We could have been working on it together."

"Don't pout. I was always planning to tell you but you knowing was another variable to take into account. I wanted to have a sort of base understanding before you intentionally or unintentionally started manipulating your magic to try and help. If I've not made it clear enough - magic literally responds to everything. Even you just thinking about maybe doing something can influence it."

He then looked away slightly guiltily, "And, y'know, maybe I wanted to have a better handle on it before I told you so you wouldn't feel the need to get all hung up over it."

He was a little taken aback, "Hung up over it? What are you talking about?"

"Like with the artefacts."

He spluttered slightly in indignity as he responded, "I wasn't hung up over it! I was just trying to help!"

For a second, Macaque looked like he was going to respond with something sharp but instead he sighed, "I know. But the monkeys tell me what you get up to when I'm not here and it sounds like you're spending an unhealthy amount of time in the library."

Damn his "loyal" subjects! Macaque probably hadn't even had to ask them, the lot of them just loved to gossip. He huffed, "You know they like to exaggerate! I don't spend that much time there!"

And he didn't, not really. Just when Macaque wasn't here and that was only because he seemed to get really stressed and down about it. He wanted to really make sure he was as close to getting it right as possible before getting Macaque to try another one.

Macaque clearly didn't believe him, "Really? You're telling me Chún was exaggerating?"

Damnit. Chún was an elderly monkey well known for her no-nonsense honesty, if she had ratted him out there was no way Macaque would ever believe anything he said to the contrary.

"Alright, fine. But you know how I get when I'm focused on something - I just lost track of time. It's really not that big of a deal."

That seemed to do little to appease Macaque, so a little reluctantly he confessed, "Ok, maybe I do spend a fair bit of time on it but besides the obvious motivation to help you... Well, I actually really like having a project like this to work on. Messing around with seals and artefacts? It's sort of, I don't know, fun...?" He quickly tried to correct himself in order to save his reputation, "Well, no, not fun. It's, er, challenging! Good work out for the brain and all!"

Macaque blinked at him before a grin started to spread over his face, "Oh how the tables have turned. Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven - a seals nerd." He huffed, "Unbelievable. After all the shit you used to give me."

In his youth, Wukong had more or less two modes - lazy layabout or non stop action adventurer and neither of them were conducive to the book learning seals generally required. He'd been smart enough that there hadn't really been a need for studying of any sorts.

Macaque on the other hand could often be found in the library studying whatever had taken his fancy and Wukong, of course, had teased him frequently about it. So, really any ribbing that Macaque wanted to give him now was well deserved.

He tried to move past the moment quickly, "Yeah, yeah. Look, what I'm saying is it's not some chore or obsession. I'm not "hung up over it" or whatever." He then paused and reconsidered, "Maybe I was a little at the start. I just thought we'd find the answer straight away, y'know? Should have known better really... But I just want you to be able to live life to the fullest."

Macaque was quiet for a moment before he asked, "You don't think I'm doing that?"

"Honestly? You're probably living a fuller life than me. You always find a way to work around any limits and put yourself out there. It sort of lights a fire under me, makes me want to catch up."

He just wished he didn't have those limits to work around in the first place.

"What's stopping you?"

He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, not liking that this conversation was now focusing on him rather than Macaque, "Ah, y'know. I'm getting there. Picked up some great hobbies recently, if you hadn't noticed. And started leaving the island again properly."

"Yeah, with me. Never on your own."

"Ah, ah, ah! Not true! I met up with MK the other day! We explored the Gēbì Desert!"

Macaque was not impressed, "You were helping him search for a shape shifting sand demon. "Two pairs of golden vision are better than one" if I remember right."

"That sounded nothing like MK!"

Macaque wasn't distracted, "Wukong, when was the last time you left this island by yourself to have fun? When was the last time you actually spent time with someone other than me or MK?"

"I just don't want all the attention that comes with it! Good or bad! I'm pretty recognisable!"

Macaque looked at him like he was an idiot, "You can shapeshift! You know how to cast glamours! You could literally be whoever you wanted to be out there!"

He didn't even try to hide the fact he wanted to change the subject, "It's a work in progress! But none of this is relevant to magic or making out! Let's have one conversation at a time please!"

The hypocrisy wasn't lost on him - he went on extensive tangents all the time - but he hoped that Macaque wouldn't call him out.

Macaque crossed his arms, "You think I'm just going to let you gloss over the fact you're afraid of leaving the island by yourself?"

"Hey! I'm not afraid of anything! There is literally nothing out there I can't handle!" He scoffed, "Afraid. As if."

"Prove it then. Go spend the rest of the day in the city."

"I don't need to prove anything! Besides, I have nothing to do in town - I'm not going just to wander aimlessly! And we're still not finished talking about your magic! C'mon, I want to know more about what you've figured out and how I can help."

Macaque clicked his tongue before he stood and walked away slightly, tail flicking agitatedly. Wukong wasn't a fan of the resolve on his face when he turned to face him, "You've got the gist of the magic situation. I'll share with you what I can feel as and when it comes up. We can work on some tests together later but right now I'm done talking about this. My magic isn't an issue. Your hang ups about getting off the island are. Now, do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?"

He stood as well and bit out a little defensively, "There is no issue. But you want to scrap over nothing then fine by me."

Macaque raised an eyebrow, "Who said anything about a fight?"

Warily he asked, "What else could the hard way be?"

Suddenly he was falling through a shadow portal and all he managed was a cut off shout of Macaque's name before he landed in a heap on the floor. He cursed Macaque as he picked himself up and dusted himself off, before freezing when he realised he wasn't alone.

There was a group of three demons staring at him from the other side of the room. They'd clearly been in the middle of working on various sewing projects before he'd unceremoniously fallen out of thin air.

He never got a chance to even think about how to respond to the situation before the oldest looking of the demons gasped in recognition. Oh jeez, alright here we go, time to put on his best Monkey King routine but he was stunned as she exclaimed, "You must be Wukong! Oh, Macaque has told us ever so much about you!" She waved him over, "Come and sit."

He stayed where he was, "Er... He has?"

"Of course! He said you would drop by one day for a visit."

Another demon snorted, "Didn't realise he'd meant it quite so literally." They were sympathetic, "Didn't give you any warning, did he?"

He scowled, "No, he didn't." He glanced around the room and thought it looked vaguely familiar, "Sorry but where am I?"

The older demon had a look of mock disapproval, "Oh what a terror that man is." She waved him over again, "Come take a seat and we'll explain."

Cautiously he did so, and she continued, "Well, first things first - introductions. You may call me Chóu." The other demon who had spoken to him waved lazily as they said, "Mián."

Chóu then gestured to the third demon, "And this quiet, little lovely is Chī. Chī, don't be rude, say hello to our guest."

Chī glanced up and nodded briefly before continuing with her work. Chóu tsked but she didn't comment on what she apparently did not consider an appropriate greeting. Instead she turned to him, "We three are the personal tailors and seamstresses of our esteemed lady, Princess Iron Fan. And, of course, we have heard all about you from your husband!"

He choked, "My what!?"

Mián rolled their eyes, "They're not married, Chóu. And even if they were, he's got bigger titles than "Macaque's husband"."

"Nonsense. There is no greater honour than to be known as one's beloved."

Mián just sighed and turned to him, "I'm afraid your many titles mean nothing here, Monkey King. Cut a long story short though - Macaque has told us you are quite the talented seamstress yourself."

Chóu looked delighted, "Yes! We have seen your work! Very impressive! I particularly admire your embroidery! Those little orchids on Macaque's cuffs were wonderful!"

Still a little unsure of this situation he awkwardly responded, "Er, thanks... I'm not interrupting your work, am I?" He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, "Because I could just..."

Chóu was adamant, "Oh no, no, no! You only just got here! Please, stay a while!"

Mián reassured him, "This is more of a practice and brainstorming session. Help yourself to some materials and join in." A somewhat mischievous smile came to their face, "We would love to hear what Macaque's "husband" has to say about him. And seeing as he literally dumped you here - feel free to get whatever you're feeling off your chest."

It took a while for him to stop feeling so awkward but eventually he found himself fully invested in gossiping with this little group, he was even starting to understand some of the various tapping that Chī used to communicate. And admittedly it was a little cathartic to get the chance to complain about small, silly things Macaque did that annoyed him. And maybe once he got some of that off his chest, it had been nice to talk about things he did that didn't annoy him at all.

And it was just sort of... Nice.

Nice to be doing something inconsequential but enjoyable with friendly strangers. And, y'know, no-one had gotten hurt or upset, he hadn't forged painfully deep connections with any mortals and the day didn't look like it was going to end with him trapped under a mountain or facing some other terrible punishment. Pretty successful day out.

He was still going to give Macaque shit for this later though. How could he suspect Wukong had some tiny, little fears about the past repeating itself and just dump him out here to fend for himself? It was rude if nothing else.

When he finally bid his goodbyes, with a promise to come visit again sometime, he couldn't help the begrudgingly fond smile as a shadow portal opened beside him. Chóu's cooing did bring a blush to his cheeks but he collected himself and with one last wave he walked through.

He emerged to see dinner, clearly pilfered from the DBK clan's kitchen, on the coffee table and Macaque sat on the couch looking smug, "Have a good time?"

He sat on his side of the couch and picked up his bowl with a huff, "You're the actual worst. How could you do that to your husband?"

Macaque snorted, "No-one has ever told her we're married. She just decided it for herself and refuses to hear otherwise. But remember when you threw that artefact at my face? Well, now we're even."

"What! We were already even for that! You punched me in the face! You got me good as well!"

"That was for the blunt force trauma, this was for forcing me to face my fear in such a dick-ish way."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"You tell me."

He shoved some noodles into his face and mumbled, "It was fine."

"Don't talk with your mouthful, you heathen. This is why you don't get invited to dinner with Niú and Gōngzhǔ."

He swallowed, and responded with a little disbelief, "That's why I don't get invited? Wait, they've talked about inviting me? Really?" He then remembered, "Ah, nuts. I should have gone and seen them while I was there. Super rude to just hang out at their place without saying hi."

Macaque laughed slightly, "Oh yeah. Imagine besmirching your reputation as a polite gentleman like that. Unforgivable."

"Hey. Those two are pretty traditional demons - that would have been a major offence back in the day."

"Actually it would still be a major offence today but I called ahead. Told them I'd make up for your atrocious behaviour."

"How could you have possibly called ahead?"

Macaque waved him off, "Doesn't matter. Point is you've not grievously offended anyone and you conquered your fear. Win-win all around."

His grip tightened on his bowl as he looked down and coughed slightly, "Faced my fear. Not conquered."

He glanced up to see Macaque's knowing face, "You ready to tell me exactly what it is you're afraid of?"

He looked up at him a little hopefully, "When we're in bed later?"

Macaque sighed dramatically, "I suppose I'll allow it."

"How gracious of you."

It was a little while later after dinner that Macaque said apropos to nothing, "Look, don't think I don't appreciate it but I think it would do us both some good if you spent a little less time thinking about me and a little more time thinking about yourself."

He looked away, "I think I've thought about myself plenty."

That had largely been the problem back in the day - that's all he'd really thought about. He knew he wasn't the same as he had been but deep down he feared how true that was. How easily it would be to fall back into bad habits if he faltered. Things were good right now, especially for the people he cared about. Why would he ever want to jeopardize that?

Macaque took hold of his hand and brought the back of it to his lips. He pulled away and responded, "C'mon, let's go to bed and talk about it. Word on the street is we're better when we talk about things."

He really would rather keep all these thoughts and feelings to himself but unfortunately Macaque was right and he wanted them to keep getting better and better.

"Let's go to bed then."

--Chapter End--

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev | Next

LMK Fanfic Masterlist

#lmk #lmk fanfiction #my fanfiction #originally posted on ao3 #tumblr fic #au: shadow (lmk)#lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #lmk monkey king #lmk shadowpeach #shadowpeach #lego monkie kid

23 notes · View notes

genshin-scenarios · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 2: dark side of dawn

Reembarking Starlight Masterlist

Characters: Paimon, Diluc

Chapter 1 <-

-> Chapter 3

It takes you a moment to break away from Diluc’s gaze, as if you’d just been hypnotised by the embers of a fire. You're saved from blurting out his name when Paimon flies towards you at record speed, almost knocking you over with a hug.

“Are you alright?!” She exclaims, teary-eyed. “Paimon thought you were going to be crushed!”

So did you, to be fair. “I’m fine, thanks to him.” You look at Diluc, who measures something between confusion and contemplation in his eyes. “Thank you for the save, Mister…?”

“Just Darknight is fine.” He averts his gaze to look at the defeated Ruin Guard, whose core has been pierced through completely by your attack. “You have pretty fast reflexes. It looks like that thing’s disabled for good.”

Paimon’s eyes widen as she follows his gaze and sees the damage. ��When did you learn to do that?” She gasps. Lamely, you shrug.

“I guess I just shaped anemo into whatever I thought could help.” You rub the back of your neck. “There wasn’t much thinking involved, to be honest.” Your arm is still tingling from the recoil, but you don’t draw attention to that while you ask Diluc what he’s here for.

“Likely the same reason as you—to investigate the ruins.” He crosses his arms. “You don’t look like a local, though. Are you new to Mondstadt?”

Paimon explains that you’re an outlander who’s in search of a missing friend; seeing as you aren't sure whether the Abyss twin is Aether or Lumine, you’d decided to claim they were an old travelling partner, whose image is now fuzzy in your mind.

But even after clearing out the remaining treasure chests and separating from Diluc, you didn’t come across Dvalin’s tear. Paimon’s starlight tinkling accompanies you as you return to the city deep in thought, before a weight dips from within the mysterious confines of your backpack. An energetic ping enters the air.

‘Meet the Darknight Hero achieved! You have been rewarded with: x2000 mora, x1 corrupted tear.’

You stop in your path and rummage through your backpack until your fingers graze something smooth and small. The teardrop glows blood-red, pulsing with a heavy, agonised power.

“Did you find another crystal?” Paimon floats closer to inspect it. “There’s no doubt they’re important, but I wonder what they are…”

You think about Dvalin and the lies the Abyss Order are feeding him, turning him enough to shed tears.

Will you be able to free him from his bad dream?

The master of Dawn Winery steps into the entryway of his manor, turning towards the shadow that welcomes him home.

“Any updates on the Fatui?” He asks.

“They seem to be keeping their activities under close covers. So far, they have not started to act.”

Diluc has been keeping an eye on third-parties in Mondstadt ever since Signora entered the nation, but it seems like an unpredicted factor has joined the field—an outlander who wields the wind but has no vision, and can manipulate its form in miraculous ways.

“I need a report on an adventurer who’s recently entered the city.” He pulls the band off his ponytail. Diluc’s hair spills over his shoulders.

A strange traveller blessed by the wind…Just what new events will you stir?

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin writing #genshin impact imagines

22 notes · View notes

hellfire--cult · 1 year ago

Text

Cover of Story done by me.

Summary: Bitch. That was her definition. Y/N was the most popular girl in school, and now with Steve gone, she became the queen bee for her last year at Hawkins High. People either loved her or hated her to their core, but noone did a thing about her attitude. Spoiled, bitchy, brat, but hidden secrets lie inside of her that could shatter her image completely. A project, a stupid bet, and feelings will get her involved with the freak of the school.

And that changes her life forever.

Warnings: +18 MDNI, sex, drugs, alcohol usage, drug usage, bullying, physical abuse, abandonment issues, trust issues, partying, teenage shenanigans, cursing, and smut. So much smut. That includes, p in v, oral sex both ways, unprotected sex, intoxicated sex, rough sex, bondage, spanking, etc.

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Angst and Fluff.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, mainly and focused. Billy Hargrove x Reader later on and Billy is OOC (out of character, he is not a mean son of a cunt)

This book is written in POVs. Sometimes third person.

The reason why this story is not posted on here, is because I started Tumblr just recently, and I have been writing this story since last year.

It has 95 chapters guys.

95.

I won't take the time to post all of that here, it's impossible.

BUT, it's COMPLETED. So there is no waiting, just pure reading. Keep in mind that it is my second fanfiction and in the first few chapters it might be a bit chonky, but then I promise the writing gets better.

So if you want to go and read it here are the links:

WATTPAD / AO3

I assume all the new followers and readers I got in those platforms are from here, but welp, here you go again in case you missed this story!

and let me tell you that in my story people aren't just evil because that's just who they are. People have backstories, and plot twists that we solve through the story, which is full of angst

And when I say it's slow burn, I literally MEAN, slow burn.

198 notes · View notes

malarkgirlypop · 6 months ago

Text

MEDIC! Part 29 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Listen when I say these characters have a mind of their own, I mean it. I was just chilling writing the start of the last episode and then all of a sudden boom, we kissing and shit. Like ah excuse me, this wasn't in my plan, what are we doing? But hey they deserved a we treat and I mean so do we. So this chapter is definitely rated, if you aren't over 18, back! Back, I say! 🤺

TW: sexy time lmao, long chapter

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, anyone else please let me know.

We entered Bavaria in early May, and we had been tasked in capturing Berchtesgaden. It was a town high in the Alps, and was the symbolic home of the Nazi party. Apparently all of the important men of the party had houses there. Even though the man was dead, Hitler had ordered the SS to make it their last stand to keep the enemy out of their “sacred” town.

I sighed, staring at the mass of boulders that blocked our way up the mountain, the hot sun beating down on my back. We had been stuck here for hours, waiting for someone with more artillery than we did, so we could blast our way through.

I hummed a tune twirling a curl around my finger, trying to remember all of the words to the song I had stuck in my head. I couldn’t for the life of me remember the lyrics, only the melody played on and on in my mind.

Lieb leaned against the wheel next to me smoking. “How long does it take for engineers to arrive?” I asked while shielding the sun from my eyes as I looked over to Lieb.

“Who knows?” He said while taking a deep drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke in my face.

“Lieb!” I whined pushing him away as he chuckled.

“Stop humming, you’re driving me insane.” He retorted, shoving me back. “You just keep repeating the same part over and over again. You’re just as bad as Web and his stupid quotes from his literature.” I gawked offended by his comment, no way I was as annoying as Web.

“Ugh, rude!” I got up from my position, dusting the dirt off the back of my pants. Lieb grinned at me, knowing he had wound me up.

“Stop smirking!” I nudged his leg with my boot. “Take it back!” I crossed my arms over my chest, giving him my best pissed off face.

“You’re not as annoying as Web.” Joe held his hands up in surrender. I laughed, smiling down at Lieb, who grinned back at me.

“What about me?” Web startled me as he snuck up from behind. My eyes grew wide, plastering a smile on my face.

“Web you need to stop sneaking up on me, seriously.” I burst out laughing, fortunately he hadn’t heard what we were talking about.

I loved Web, he was so sweet, but his endless love for literature got very tiring. Somehow the conversation with him always ended in his love of books and all things written. Half the time I had no clue what he was talking about, I would nod and smile adding in, “Oh that’s so interesting.” But I wasn’t listening by that point anymore.

“We were just talking about how long it would take the engineers to arrive.” I skipped over the most recent conversation we had, I didn’t want to hurt the poor man's feelings.

“I think they are going to try something right now. Everyone is getting tired of waiting.” Web pointed to the pile of rocks that blocked the road.

I peaked my head over the truck to catch a glimpse of two soldiers standing in the middle of the road with one of the bazooka's we had with us. I covered my ears just in time to muffle the explosion that blasted into the debris.

“I don’t think that will work.” I huffed, it had hardly made a dent in the huge pile.

“No, but that does look fun.” Web grinned admiring the massive explosion.

“Yeah!” Lieb launched to his feet. “Web, we should go help.” Web and Joe excitedly nodded at each other racing off to the front of the road.

“Ok, bye.” I said to the pair's back as they enthusiastically scurried away.

I slumped down again, the same song still stuck in my head.

“Aw, Em.” A large hand reached down and ruffled my hair. I looked up to find Bull standing over me.

“They ditched me, for explosives. Can you believe that?” I asked in astonishment.

A wry grin formed on Bull’s lips, he tilted his head to the side with a hearty chuckle. “I can’t say I am, little lady.” He said in his thick country accent.

“No you’re right. I’m not shocked.” I laughed, shaking my head.

I looked over to find Web and Lieb stacking grenades on the landslide of rocks. They sprinted back to where the two other soldiers stood still with the bazooka. Their grin’s were child-like as they ran back.

Bull and I watched them, laughing at how excited they all seemed to be. Was it really that much fun blowing things up?

They didn’t wait long, firing the rocket right into the pile of explosives the pair had set. The ground shook, as the booming echoed around the mountains. But still the pile of rocks seemed to remain the same, at least they were having fun. It was nice to see genuine smiles on their faces.

“Easy!” Speirs yelled from the front of the trucks. “Let’s move out!” Spiers grinned widely with a skip in his step as he made his way back through the parked vehicles.

“Are we not waiting for the engineers anymore?” I leaned over to Bull.

“Guess not.” Bull smiled. “We better get moving, come on.” He took me by the crook of my arm, leading the way behind Speirs who was getting together all of Easy so that we could leave.

*****************************

“It’s so quiet.” I whispered to Don as we walked. He nodded in agreement before turning back to the task at hand.

Easy Company tiptoed silently down the empty streets, the group had found an alternative route up the mountain. We had been told to be on guard, and to expect the unexpected.

So the soldiers walked through the streets with their weapons drawn, readying themselves for whatever was waiting for us.

The town was eerily still, white flags hung from the windows of the houses we passed. The town appeared empty, there was no one present. The deserted village sent shivers up my back. Something that should be so busy and bustling with life now sat forlorn and abandoned.

Still I couldn’t deny that the place was beautiful even in its abandonment. The houses looked cosy and quaint as the tall mountains loomed over the small village.

My eyes darted from one place to another, taking in all the sights that laid before me. A large red banner caught my attention.

“Jesus.” I muttered to myself, eyes practically bulging out of my head as I took in the large swastika that covered the building in front of us.

It was strange to see a symbol that meant peace and well-being have such a sinister feeling now attached to it.

“Well, they really weren’t hiding it were they.” Grant said from beside me as we both gawked at banner’s.

“Nope.” I agreed with the man.

We made our way inside the big building that had ��Berchtesgadener hof’ proudly displayed over the entrance.

“Was it a hotel?” I leaned over to whisper to Don as we walked inside what appeared to be the foyer.

“I think so.” Don confirmed.

Like the town the hotel was just as quiet, no guests seemed to be staying or staff either.

I shied away from the brass sculpture of Hitler, that was prominently displayed in the middle of one of the rooms we walked through as we continued to search the building.

A clanging made me jump from my skin, we rounded the corner to find a lone clerk being held at gunpoint by Lew. His eyes darted from Nixon to the rather large book that sat on the desk.

“Looks like a guest book.” I said loudly, glancing over to Lew who nodded his head.

“Everyone who was anyone signed into this hotel. And now we have all the dates and names of anyone who ever supported Hitler in his plans.” Lew said as he flicked through the book.

“Guess there are staff after all.” I mused, watching the clerk scamper away.

************************************

Don and I walked around together forgetting the mission at hand, being too caught up in the lavish hotel.

“Should we sneak into one of the rooms? See if the bath works?” Don asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Donald!” I giggled at the man giving him a whack. “No, well. No, we couldn’t. Well.” I debated the very enticing idea.

“Oh come on! Speirs is probably out there now stealing all the silverware.” Don grinned at me, his fingers finding the nook of my arm to bring me along in his mischief.

“Fine! We will look, quickly.” I added but not putting up much of a fight as Don dragged me down one of the halls.

We pried open one of the doors, standing in the entrance way admiring the room. In the middle of the room sat a giant four poster bed. The duvet looked elegant, satin and lace coverings, with large fluffy pillows adorning the head. Across the room a tall window opened up, looking over the alps that surrounded the town.

Don and I moved further into the room, finding our way into the bathroom, which seemed to be even bigger than the master suite. A white clawfoot bathtub stood proudly in the middle of the space.

The far side of the room was taken up by a vanity that covered the width of the wall, with large basins that you could bathe in, if you so wished.

“Fucking hell.” I uttered, completely in awe of it all.

“Yup!” Don nodded as we looked over all of the interior. Even the ceilings were beautiful, fluffy white clouds and the bluest sky had been painted onto the roof of the bathroom. Gold accents of branches and leaves vined out into the sky. Everywhere my eyes could see the room was filled with exquisite details.

“It’s stunning.” I couldn’t pick my jaw off the floor.

“Eh, it’s alright. I’ve seen better.” Don shrugged, not seeming impressed with the glamour.

“What?! When?” I asked in disbelief.

“I have, truly.” I shook my head scoffing at him.

“When?” I eyed him suspiciously.

“Well.” Don started slowly making his way over to me. His stride was confident, freezing me in place. I sucked in a breath as he drew near, suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. The look in his eyes sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy.

“There’s you.” Don had moved closer to me, my back pressed into the cold marble basin. My breath hitched in my throat as he leaned even further into me.

We weren’t even touching yet, but the way Don took up the space had me stunned into silence.

“You’ve gone all quiet on me.” He teased, deliberately placing his hands either side of my body, caging me into him.

Goosebumps rose on my skin, I felt my cheeks flush. How had he turned this around so quickly?

“Emily?” My full name dripped off his tongue, as he smirked at me tilting his head ever so slightly. He knew what he was doing to me.

I swallowed, trying to find my voice again.

“What are you doing?” I asked softly, scared if I raised my voice too much it would disturb whatever was happening.

“Nothing.” Don breathed, leaning further forward. “Is there something you want me to do?” His whispers tickled my neck. I hid away the sensitive skin, turning to meet his gaze.

My heart pounded in my ears as our eyes locked. His stare was full of want, I almost melted into a puddle right then.

“Stop teasing me.” I pleaded. The tension was overwhelming but exhilarating at the same time. It felt as if I was a raw nerve, the slightest of touch would set me on fire.

“Oh my love, I’m not teasing.” Don smiled, but it wasn’t his normal smile. There was another intention behind it. I gasped as his hand cupped my cheek gently tracing over my jawline, it was only a slight brush but I found myself leaning into his palm. He didn’t give me the satisfaction, stealing away the brief contact.

I glared at the man. Don was clearly teasing me.

“Don.” I protested, trying to find his hand to bring back up to my face. But instead he found me first, holding my wrist still.

I tried again with my free hand but it was no use Don had me pinned.

I groaned in frustration.

“You’re teasing me.” I whined, huffing.

My annoyance didn’t seem to deter Don from his antics. He moved forward his mouth inches away from my ear.

“You have to ask nicely.” Don’s lips brushed over the sensitive skin of my jaw. I suppressed a moan by trapping my lip between my teeth.

“Please. Donald Malarkey, you have me. Now do something about it.” I challenged him.

A smile formed on his lips but I only saw it for a split second before his lips crashed into mine. I sighed into the kiss as his hands cupped my face pulling me closer to him. My hands roamed around his body, tracing anything I could get my hands on. I didn’t realise how much tension had built from our last kiss, but I needed him so badly it hurt.

Don swiftly lifted me up, sitting me on the edge of the basin as we continued to kiss. I opened my mouth as our tongues swirled together. It was an addiction, I couldn’t get enough. I needed him closer. I grabbed at the fabric that impeded me from Don.

I tugged off his jacket, too busy kissing him to see where I threw it. Don’s hand’s did the same pulling the material from my arms tossing the item to the side. I gasped as he pulled me forward, sliding me to the very edge of the bench. Don pressed himself to me, even with pants on I could feel everything.

“Off, I need this off!” I said breathlessly, pulling at his collar. I helped him tug off the t-shirt, admiring his body lovingly. I raked my fingers down his chest, sliding my hand below his belt. Don shuddered seemingly immobilised as I palmed his front.

Don snatched my wrist, a wry grin forming on his features, “We have plenty of time for that later.”

A pout formed on my lips. He moved forward kissing me gently. Unlike before he savoured the kiss. Don’s lips moved over my face, gently placing kisses at the corners of my lips, by the creases of my eyes, my temples and cheeks. His touch was so soft but everytime he moved to a different spot I could still feel the last caress.

I captured his face in my hands, my thumbs tracing over his features. With each movement I kissed him gently.

I sighed in pleasure as Don’s hands found the small of my back pulling me even closer.

“Take it off.” I begged, needing the fabric that separated us to be removed. Don’s finger’s found the hem of my shirt, slowly dragging it up my body. I arched into him, enjoying the feeling of his fingertips brushing on my skin.

Don threw my top to the side, I didn’t have the patience to be admired just yet, still sporting a bra. I brought his hands around my back to the clasp.

He made quick work of the fastening. I felt it loosen from my back as he pulled the straps over my shoulders and down my arms.

I sat half naked watching Don take me in. He blew out a breath, shaking his head slightly.

“Fucking hell. And you’re all mine.” Don said to himself, I giggled at him.

“Donald, stop gawking and kiss me.” I said my tone was playful. But I didn’t need to tell him twice. He moved forward pressing us together, his fingers dragged down my exposed back sending shivers up my spine.

Don’s head dipped down to my neck slowly trailing his lips down my skin. I leaned back enjoying the feeling of his tongue swirling down my body. I gasped when his mouth latched onto the soft flesh of my chest.

Don’s lips nipped and sucked, finding his way down to my erect nipple. His other hand massaging my other breast as he assaulted my nipple with his mouth. I leaned my head back, mouth open in pleasure, moans and gasps fell from my lips in hasty succession.

He moved to my other breast giving it the same treatment as the previous. I panted and bucked against him, the feeling of his kisses and hands sending me spiralling.

“Fuck! Holy fuck.” I groaned watching him enjoy me. The wetness between my legs somehow grew more. I pulled his face back up to mine, needing his lips on my own again.

My hands snaked down to his pants, trying my best to undo his belt while not being able to see. It was harder than I thought, after a while of fumbling around I finally pulled away to glance down at what I was doing.

“Desperate?” Donald asked, smirking. I didn’t even deny it, breathlessly nodding my head while still trying to yank the belt from his pants.

“I have waited far too long for a belt to put a stop to it.” I groaned, still failing at the simple job.

“You’ve waited, oh my love, you don’t know the half of it.” Donald’s hands found mine, taking over the task. I watched him easily pull the belt free and remove it from his trousers. Don undid the button, loosening them around his hips. I greedily licked my lips moving my hands to his waistband tugging them down. I bit my lip, a shy smile formed on my mouth.

I couldn’t wait any longer, my own hands unbuttoning my pants and trying my best to shimmy them down while still being perched on the counter.

“So impatient!” Don tutted, his arms lifting me so I could successfully pull down my clothing.

I kicked off the green cargo pants, leaving us both in just our underwear. I giggled, somehow the innocent looking in the rooms had gotten out of hand.

Don kissed me again, his fingers lazily dragging around my body and into my hair. I did the same, tangling my fingers in his and pulling gently. A low moan left his lips as he moved his mouth over mine. The electricity between us was almost palpable, with every touch and sound I could feel the lustful energy flowing through my body.

I yelped in surprise as Don lifted me so easily from the basin. I didn’t look where he was taking us too busy assaulting his face and neck with kisses.

We landed gently on the decadent bed, but Don and I were too enraptured in each other to truly appreciate the comfort of the soft mattress and the silk sheets against our skin.

Don ran his fingers down my side, teasingly stopping around the hem of my underwear. He pulled it back, snapping the waistband against my skin. In the same movement Don dipped his head down, trailing soft kisses down my skin and stopping near my collarbone to nip at the sensitive skin.

His hand slipped down between my thighs, caressing around my hips. I rocked back, eyes closed in pleasure. I couldn’t stifle the loud moans that fell from my lips.

I could feel his smirk as he placed more feverish kisses around my navel, his hands roaming around my thighs never quite landing where I needed them too. Don was making me beg for it.

Don’s touch continued down towards my hips, his lips finding the right spots to make me squirm and bite my lip in desperation.

“Don.” I pleaded through my pants.

“Yes my love?” He said with a smirk, as his kisses wandered down, his touch still tantalising and teasing. I could feel Don’s breath against my core, as he continued to run his fingers along my inner thighs.

“Stop teasing me!” I whined.

Don chuckled at my pleading, looking up at me with a devilish smile. I watched as he bit my inner thigh gently in response.

“Beg for it.” He said in a low husky voice that was filled with desire.

“Please Donald, make me feel alive!” I begged, feeling so vulnerable in his arms.

“I love you.” Don said before he pulled my underwear from my body, taking his time admiring me placing sweet kisses to the soft skin between my legs. I groaned as his mouth found my core, his hot tongue swirling over my bud of nerves.

I cried out in pleasure as he feasted on me, I gripped onto his hair hanging on for dear life as he shook me to my core. I trembled in ecstasy as Don’s tongue dipped inside of me.

Don seemed to enjoy seeing me come undone, moaning against my core. His fingers slipped inside of me pulling in and out with force.

I threw my head back screaming into my free hand that covered my mouth. I arched and bucked against his every move. Don’s free hand pinned me to the bed to stop me from escaping the overwhelming feeling that rippled throughout my body.

He sucked and nipped at my sensitive core as he worked his fingers in and out of my entrance.

Bright colours swarmed my vision as I shook, I had reached my climax. I held onto Don, the only thing that seemed to be grounding me to reality. It felt as if I had left my body, floating above the scene that was playing before me. Don did not stop his movements, riding out the orgasm as long as he could.

My breath left me as I writhed under his touch, I didn’t think that it could last long, but I was still overcome by my euphoric satisfaction.

Finally he let me come down, pulling away from my core. I caught my breath, eyes still closed trying to come back to the real world, rather than the cloud I was floating on.

“I think you were trying to kill me.” I panted as Don moved back up to kiss me gently on my lips.

“What’s more alive than being nearly half dead?” Don chuckled as he lay against me, his fingers tangling into my hair and pulling me towards him. He rested his forehead against mine, our breaths mixing together as we enjoyed the quiet moment.

I closed my eyes enjoying the simple sounds, his soft breaths fanning on my face, and the quiet heartbeat that pulsed against my own chest. I kissed him again, I kissed him like I would never see him again.

My hands travelled down his torso, it was my turn to show him how much I loved him. I palmed his hard cock through his underwear. Don groaned into my mouth, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

I trailed my kisses down his neck, chest and stomach. Don sighed in pleasure, lying his head back against the bed. Every touch under his hands and the feeling of his skin on mine, I felt the love and desire he had for me, I wanted him to feel the same as I kissed him. I wanted to make him want me more than ever.

I let my tongue drag down his hips, swirling over the sensitive skin. I needed to drive him insane with desire, like he had me only moments before.

Tugging down his briefs his hard cock sprung free. I tossed the item of clothing to the side. I bit my lip taking in his size, how he had hidden that from me I had no idea. I wrapped my hand around the base stroking my thumb gently up the shaft. Don shuddered under my grip, groaning huskily.

Don propped himself up on his elbows and I started slowly moving my hand up and down his length. I licked my lips desperately wanting to taste him.

“Jesus christ Emily, you’re going to be the death of me.” Don muttered a mix of shock and pleasure on his face.

I grinned. I continued to stare at him as I moved forward, my tongue darting out to swirl around his tip. His cock twitched in my hand, Don looked as if he was going to pass out.

“Now who’s teasing?” He leaned forward brushing a curl out of my face. I wrapped my lips around him sucking. Donald inhaled sharply tensing under my touch. I moved further down, bringing more of him into my mouth. Don’s breaths grew uneven as I continued.

I bobbed my head up and down, taking as much of him as I could into my throat. My hand still gripped the base of his cock moving as I sucked and licked.

“Oh god!” Donald moaned watching me with lust filled eyes.

I pulled back sucking in air as I continued to massage his cock with my hand. Don gripped onto the bed sheets panting heavily. His fingers weaved into my hair, gripping just as tightly as he was the fabric under him. I continued my assault, my pace becoming faster.

“Don’t stop my love.” He begged, he was almost to his limit. I did as he asked, continuing my rhythm.

“I’m going to cum!” Don whined pulling back from me, but I held his hips steady, looking up at him through my lashes. I wanted to taste him like he tasted me. I didn’t stop, bobbing my head and sucking. I felt his body jolt under me, hot liquid filled my mouth as I watched Don’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Em.” Don breathed, sitting up from his position and moving down to where I knelt between his legs. His hands cupped my face peppering my skin with light kisses. Don pulled me up to him, as we laid back down against the bed, limbs tangled and bodies entwined. A moment of pure serenity as we embraced each other, basking in the warmth of one another.

“I love you.” I whispered as we gazed into each other’s eyes.

“I love you.” Don lips brushed against my skin.

“Guys we’re leaving!” The door burst open as Babe and George sauntered into the room. Both Don and I screamed in surprise, scrambling to hide ourselves. Don dove over me, covering my body with his. His ass out in the wind for all to see. George and Babe’s eyes bulged seeing their friends bare butt pointing right in their direction.

“Get out!!” Don screeched, as I hid beneath him trying to contain my fit of giggles.

“Oh my god!” George gasped covering his mouth as Babe stared wide eyed at us.

“Guys get the fuck out, right now!!” Don demanded the men leave. But it still didn’t work, the pair didn’t budge.

“What is going on here?” George asked through bouts of laughter he shared with Babe.

Don grabbed the nearest pillow chucking at the heads of the two men who were crying with laughter.

“OUT!” Don yelled, but he was trying not to laugh as well. I wrapped my arms around his waist keeping him close to me. Don was the only thing keeping my naked body out of sight of the pair of idiots who howled with laughter in the still wide open door.

“Fine, we will go. But it’s going to cost you.” George waggled his finger at us as he hauled the still hysterical Babe out of the room. The door clicked shut, as it did so both Don and I sighed in relief.

“You didn’t lock the door!” I playfully smacked his chest as he grinned down at me.

“Neither did you!” But we couldn’t stop our own giggles from escaping our lips.

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

Chapter 30

31 notes · View notes

incorrect-jojolands-quotes · 10 months ago

Text

unexpected theory that i stumbled upon

I am in a JOJOLands discord server and a member of the server had this theory that I think should be shared. They plan on posting the full scope of it on Reddit (so I'll add the link to it here when it gets posted). In the meantime, I'm gonna summarize what I've found based on their discussions so far and add my own theories to it.

(This will be a long one :P)

The theory in particular involves the star emblem Jodio poses in that has numbers at each arrow.

On one hand, those numbers could simply be counting each point or is in reference to how there has been 9 parts for JoJo so far. But... what if the numbers are in refrence to this instead:

This is the Enneagram of Personality, a personality assessment that consists of nine personality traits. It's a system that focuses on a person's emotions regarding motivations and fears. Each of the nine personality types is defined by a particular core belief about how the individual thinks the world works. It's believed no one really changes from their numbers but one can relate to more than one number and each number has levels ranging from "healthy" to "unhealthy" that a person can resonate with over time. What's interesting is that the Ennegram is made to resemble a star, with the number 3, 6, and 9 working as a triad that symbolizes wholeness.

There are other details regarding the arrows such as sub-types, wings, and arrows, but we're going to focus more on the surface stuff in this post (the Reddit post can dive deeper). But, how does this relate to The JOJOLands?

Well, what if you place the numbers with the arrows? Not just literally but let's also have it match more with the Ennegram as well. Let's also try to put the numbers aligned in two different ways (images created by the person on the server).

With the numbers aligned vs with the empty arrow pointing upwards:

We can call the first one the original placement and the second one the "inverted" placement to differentiate the two.

But, there's more. Do you remember what the cover art for "Chapter 8: Let's Look at Luxury Watches" is? Remember how it shows the same emblem but with the 5 known characters at the moment?

It looks like each character is associated with a particular point of that emblem. Let's put the Ennegram numbers on them and see what they look like with the original placement and the "inverted" placement. The original OP also made these images.

Original Numbers vs Inverted Numbers:

Why does this all matter?

It obviously looks like the characters aren't just decorated around the star emblem but each one is associated with a number on the Ennegram. With the inverted, it also appears as if most of them change numbers.

Now, if you look at the numbers they're associated with in the "before" photo, you realize their personalities align with the numbers in the Ennegram.

Jodio has the ambitious goal of becoming obscenely rich. He prides himself for being reliable, getting the job done with no questions asked and mentioned how being this way gained him praise and money among other things. His recent diagnosis makes him speculate he could be a psychopath. 3s are are goal-oriented, viewing success as being praised for their achievements, and they act with efficiency. Their ambition can cause them to be relentless, even psychopathic.

Rohan is looked up to by Jodio among others and is considered a creative, inspiring individual due to his success as a mangaka and the perfection he strives to have in his works. Despite his actions towards the team, he continously warned them of danger during their interaction and even advises Jodio before they part ways. 1s are known to be perfectionists due to their creativity and their self-awareness, which inspires many. This belief makes them think they're different from others, which can translate to being critical of others and an air of self-righteousness due to their moral compass believing they are better than others.

Usagi is considered an oddball since the beginning yet proves his potential with how intelligent and inqusitive he is. Even if it got the team out of trouble in some cases, his approach is unconventional and he is still considered a troubled individual to his peers, even rejected from further connections. 5s are known to be inquisitive and would spend hours observing and experimenting every detail and concept to gain more knowledge if given the opportunity. However, going too far with their discoveries makes them very eccentric and their desire to seek knowledge can eventually drive them to insanity.

Paco is a kleptomaniac addicted to stealing due to the rush it gives him and, despite being academically weak, is a very capable fighter and planner of the group. He's rather rash with his decisions but can take control of any situation, especially in a fight. 7s are known for being quick on their feet, able to plan and act on instincts when the situation calls for it, and make up their lack of studiousness with their street smarts. But, this impulsiveness and desire to act on energy means their addictions can lead to self-destruction much faster due to how much energy they go through and they could be associated with BPD.

Dragona goes out of the way to avoid further fallout or conflict deemed unnecessary or cause further trouble. They engage in peaceful things like yoga and is the voice of calmness and trust that contrast Jodio's more violent nature. 9s are known as peacemakers, valuing harmony and simplicity above all, which makes others trust them due to how stable they seem. This stubborness to keep peace can put them in a state of disorientation and reclusiveness that can manifest into multiple personalities.

While some believe Ennegram numbers don't change over time, seeing the inverted numvers show different numbers seem to indicate that the characters we see will evolve into their new numbers as the story progresses. This may foreshadow what will happen to each character or what they will become in the end.

2s are known to be empathetic, putting others first as givers, and desire to be loved above everything, yet it can be seen as manipulative and lead to self-victimization.

4s are known to be authentic, finding creativity and deep connections with others, but can fall into despair when dreams and hope are lost.

See 5, 7, and 9 above.

Jodio as a 2 means he could become more loving to others and take on the typical Joestar personality of pursuing justice and determination due to empathy. It doesn't necessarily mean he's "cured" of his inability to feel guilt or have no affection to others beyond his family, but it may indicate him learning to find connections and going on some sort of self-discovery as a result. At the same time, the happiness he desired could be interpeted as love he yearns to feel for, and he could be changing his purpose of pursuing riches to fit more of a 2.

Rohan as a 4 is harder to speculate what will become of him besides a possible return. We know little of Rohan's full personality in The JOJOLands but we know Rohan as an arrogant, discourteous perfectionist from previous iterations. This does seem to imply Rohan will be a more present mentor who embraces more of his imperfections and increasing an appreciation towards those around him. He's sort of started doing that already with Jodio at the end of chapter 5.

Dragona as a 5 means they may start becoming less avoidant and more assertive and proactive in taking control of the situation. I speculate they have some sort of block that discourages them from doing this currently, maybe due to lack of confidence or having a not-so strong Stand compared to Jodio or Paco. Or, maybe being in Jodio's shadow has made them comfortable with doing minimal work. Regardless, they are finally able to show themselves as their own Joestar and fighter in their own right. As a possible 5, this also means Dragona may discover something ground-breaking and it could lead to some major sacrifice; possibly, Dragona's life may end as a result.

Paco remains a 7, which I find interesting but understandable if there needs to be a balance between characters that dramatically change and characters that remain constant; Paco in this case is the latter. Still, Paco could become either a better or a worser version of a 7 to show how much he's changed as the plot continues. I could be possible that Paco becomes more valued for his quick mind despite his lack of intelligence or his addiction to stealing and being impuslive causes issues with the team and ultimately his downfall instead.

Usagi becoming a 9 points two scenarios. On one hand, his transformation points him to be an ultimate traitor. Maybe the reactions to his eccentricities results in him feeling like he needs to hide more of himself and pushes him to villainy because of rejection. On the other hand, Usagi may come to realize he doesn't need to be complex and go beyond to try making friends, so he starts feeling more at ease. Either way, it seems like Usagi still has a wall of sorts hiding who he really is and becoming a 9 might reveal it soon.

We don't know too much about Knife Guy so far, but I'm guessing he's either going to be a 7 like Paco or a 2 who eventually becomes a 3. In the case of the latter, it could be due to Knife Guy pursuing the gang out of orders and following them to gain validation while lacking his own agency. Becoming a 3, especially under Paco's mentorship, may lead him to think about his own goals and ambitions instead of aiding the goals and ambitions of others.

The Enneagram also explains how the Stands work too. The Reddit post can go more into how these personalities relate to not just the characters but their Stand abilities and what the Stands might evolve into.

With that out of the way, I now want to talk about my two cents: the main villain.

What number would the main villain be? After all, there are 9 numbers total and only 5 (6 including Knife guy as I'm writing this) characters identified.

If we look at the chart and the inverted chart, there are only two numbers that remain untouched: 6 and 8. Coincidentally, they are the "inverses" of each other.

Between the 2 numbers, the main villain most likely will start as a 6 before turning into an 8. If you look at the Ennegram, the most obvious triad shown is the 369. I mentioned earlier how these three numbers hold significance in the Ennegram.

If Jodio and Dragona already took the positions of 3 and 9 respectively and no other character is a 6 so far, the main villain would most likely be the one to hold the 6 position. As a 6, this also implies they start out very close to Dragona and Jodio prior to becoming the main villain going against them. In terms of how close, a mutual friend or a relative is most likely since the two Joestars are siblings and the closest to each other in their gang. The main villain can also be someone completely unrelated but due to their role in society they are a major, unknown influence in Jodio and Dragona's life. Regardless, whoever it is will still fit being a 6 who becomes an 8.

If we look at the 6 and 8 traits on the Ennegram, something interesting comes up:

6s are seen as reliable. They are dedicated and ride-or-die with what they believe in, find security in having these loyalties. However, they can be driven to hysteria and dependency on what they believe in, being in deep denial when the beliefs starts failing, and then being lost when it crosses a point of no return.

8s are seen as assertive. They are the epitome of the ideal hero, confident in what they do and they end up becoming the voice to those who are saved or supported by them. Their actions, if left unchecked, can be seen as delusional and domineering, and some 8s are known to have ASPD and be sociopaths.

It seems like the main villain starts off as someone very loyal to some sort of system they support and are a part of. Something then happens (such as corruption, betrayal, and/or realization) changes them from a 6 into an 8. As an 8, they start doing things as a means of addressing the issue they found with this system that caused their change. They could be trying to save, improve, reform, or destroy it, and their actions cause more harm than good despite believing they are doing otherwise. Whatever the case, it clashes with what Jodio wants and thus making them a main antagonist preventing Jodio from his goals and harming his loved ones in the process.

What is the system, then? We don't exactly know but we have some possibilities.

The system could be something tangible and visible. The American legal system could be an example; we end up with a main villain who is a police officer, judge, lawyer, or social worker. Another example is American capitalism; someone as low as a migrant worker or as high as a CEO could become a main villain. Both could be individuals who feel mistreated by the system or has an epiphany on how to optimize it and both ways lead to them wanting to heavily alter said system at the cost of many lives.

Alternatievly, the system could be a more philosophical and invisible. A great example of this is the mechanisms. We end up with a main villain who either failed to achieve their goals because of it or succeeded yet remained unsatisfied. We can even have someone who started out with a similar life and goals as Jodio. In that case, the main villain could be some sort of warning of what would have happened to Jodio if he didn't change his ways.

In both cases, the main villain becomes someone who is a "hero" or "a voice to the people" because their change leads them to find followers that feel like they are being heard as a result of the main villain taking action for it. There are many careers that can allow someone to become such a voice, such as cult or religious leaders, social media influencers, celebrities, politicians, and more. Especially with how social media has made parasocial relationships prevalent, this could bring a new concept of betrayal that is seen today; think of modern influencer stardom or Asian idol culture. Similar to how DIO would have loyal minions sent to deter and defeat the gang in part 3, the followers of the main villain may become minor villains trying to stop the gang in part 9.

It seems to make sense that a villain would be an 8 because the last three villains we had could be described as 8s. Pucci wanted everyone to understand their destined fate, Funny Valentine wanted America to be a great nation, and Tooru wanted to change society for the sake of Rock Humans. All three were people of influence like mentioned above relative to where they worked (GDSP's Chaplain, president of the United States, Head Doctor of T.G. University Hospital respectively) and all 3 thought they were doing something good for a group of people. So, I speculate the main villain is in a similar boat and his attempts of doing something good may end up clashing Jodio's plans.

Something you might notice is that all the numbers have an associated personalty or mental disorder/symptom associated with them. This happens if the individual falls into the "unhealthy" levels of the number they are associated with. Note: they don't mean you will end up with such symptoms but rather they can explain why you have developed them. Most of the things listed repeat itself in some way and are rather generic (acts of self-destruction, having some sort of dependency or addiction, and becoming reclusive) but there are some that have specific diagnosis like BPD and multiple personalities listed.

What's interesting is ASPD and sociopathy is associated with the 8 personality. As someone who was diagnosed with ASPD by his school psychotherapist, you would think Jodio should have been an 8 for this reason and maybe start out as an 8 before becoming a 6. Instead, he starts as a 3, which does mention psychopathy, but that's about it, and he's expected to become a 2. Could this hint that Jodio's diagnosis is wrong (since the test itself is sketchy and diagnosing somone with that tends to be difficult to quantify in practice)? Or, is this going to end up being a battle between two individuals with ASPD and this could be some weird story about nature vs nurture (Jodio as nature and the main villain as nurture)?

I do wonder what this would all mean for Jodio and the rest of his gang. Even though Rohan mentions someone from the 3 of the gang members being potential traitors, the main villain is set up to be the ultimate betrayer of sorts. This is especially because of the potential that the main villain is very close to Jodio and Dragona, and it makes me speculate the main villain being someone like their estranged father, Meryl Mei, or maybe even Barbara Ann. When someone once mentioned the possibility of Josuke/Gappy becoming a villain, this theory puts him on the table too.

What do you guys think?

47 notes · View notes

joltai-showa · 16 days ago

Text

just been swamped with stuff irl + whenever I get a free day, i end up sleeping through half of it lmao, but anyway, chapter 7 FQTP is proceeding as planned

i've been thinking what I wanted to post about and decided on Deidara's kinjutsu because why not

i've seen some certain misconceptions about it, so let's do something of a master post regarding it, Deidara and Deidara's abilities that aren't actually connected with the kinjustu

before diving deeper - kinjutsu translates to forbidden jutsu, and is not to be mistaken with kenjutsu - which is everything connected with shinobi doing stuff with swords. to put it simply, Kisame is a master in kenjutsu and he is in no capacity involved with kinjutsus (as I far as remember canon stating lol). and kinjutsus are pretty widely spread throughout Naruto world, it's not just Deidara utilizing it for his art, Edo Tensei is also a kinjutsu, Shadow Clones are also classified as a kinjutsu (don't mind how much Naruto spams it lol), and so on and so forth. Kinjutsu is a classification category and is arbitrarily assigned to certain jutsus that pose too much of a threat. And said threat is not just about people around the user of a kinjutsu, it is also a threat posed to the user of the jutsu (again, Shadow Clones is not forbidden because infinitely more people can be killed using it, no, this is actually a perk of the jutsu, it's dangerous because it's incredibly chakra taxing, so if someone with low chakra reserves tries to do it - bam - they are dead). As we can see from Deidara's life, his kinjutsu is dangerous because it poses a threat to him and to other ls around him.

now, I guess it would be fairer to say this is Iwagakure's kinjutsu - it doesn't have its own name, so that should give you an idea about how much info there is about it (and how much Kishi worries about Iwa lore in general). but back to the matter, here's exactly what it does: it allows the user to mix their chakra with physical substances via the special mouths appearing on the body of the user.

exhibit one as an example. I know a lot of people don't read the manga and only know Naruto through anime, so yes, this is indeed an actual page from the manga (in fact, it is the cover of chapter 362, the very same one where Deidara dies. i gotta respect Kishimoto for creating a character that creates a plethora of questions regarding whether or not he... "plays" with himself with his mouths and answering with a resounding YES literally as he dies in the plot. also of course there's gonna be toes, name a more iconic duo than Kishimoto and his foot fetish).

but back to the definition above: it actually helps to clear certain misconceptions that I've seen people have regarding how Deidara's "artistic process" goes. first and obvious - kinjutsu is not responsible for the matter mixed with chakra exploding.

this is never mentioned in the canon and is something from the databooks, but there is this thing called Bakuton which is a kekkei genkai that allows the owner of it to give their chakra explosive properties. Deidara happens to have this kekkei genkai and this is what responsible for Deidara's explosions. canon only mentions two people possesing this kekkei genkai - one being obviously Deidara and another being Gari, an Iwa guy ressurected during Shinobi World War 4 - so not much is known about it, whether it is spread beyond Iwa, whether it can be created manually by mixing basic chakra natures or, as it happens a lot in Naruto world, this is something genetic, meaning that Gari and Deidara are somehow connected by blood, we don't know any of that, just that Bakuton exists.

another important thing stated by the definition - kinjutsu is not responsible for the form that the resulting mixture of chakra and physical matter. Deidara is explicitly stated to be a genius sculptor, and he was already famous for his abilities when it came to working with clay in the village prior to him becoming a nukenin and a terrorist (again, directly stated in the databooks). kinjutsu doesn't make all those different birds, mouths don't automatically produce owls and micro-Deidaras, Deidara does. This is a separate skill that he has and has been seemingly developing from a very young age (I made a whole separate rant about Deidara's career, but basically Deidara would have been like 12 when Akatsuki came to recruit him, so the entire "genius of Iwagakure" thing would have taken place like when he literally was in single digits)

now onto, I think, one of the biggest misconceptions I've seen about Deidara when it comes to fanfictions, at least, because on numerous occasions I've seen people write about Deidara being mistreated and abused by people of Iwagakure for being born with these disfigurements in form of too many mouths. and while I am a sucker for a tragic childhood backstory, this directly contradicts what has officially been stated (and the fact that what little is known about Deidara's life in Iwagakure is already concerning as fuck). again, Deidara was born an absolutely normal kid when it comes to the number of mouths on his person, and while living in Iwa it continued to stay so until he decided to steal the kinjutsu which would allow him to combine his sculpturing skills and his kekkei genkai. one boy four mouths DOES NOT happen until after he leaves Iwagakure (as stated by databooks).

now a little bit of a side rant, but I think judging from the info available, there are certain reasonable speculations that can be made about Iwagakure's kinjutsu. it's pretty obvious that it was developed by Iwagakure - as we never see anyone else in the world besides Deidara running around with twenty mouths on their body - but was banned for some reason. think about it, giving your shinobi an ability to shove their chakra into physical objects and literally allowing them to yeet that shit in the enemies' faces? hell yeah, give us some of that. and i believe the issue lies within the jutsu itself and it's something that can not be physically removed from the user. what I am alluding to is that one gigantic mouth on Deidara's chest.

because there is no clear explanation as to how exactly the jutsu works (besides a vague statement that Deidara "used it on himself"/"sealed it within himself"), I'm gonna go ahead and say that I think that this gigantic mouth on the chest IS the sealed kinjutsu, meaning if one wants to get it, they must end up with this toothy thing too. the smaller mouths on palms is simply the result of activating an already sealed kinjutsu and spreading it to certain area the user wishes to have it in (in Deidara's case, his palms). now, why I believe that? because, if you remember at the end of Kazekage capture arc, Deidara loses both arms, however by the time of him and Tobi face Isobu he already has them back, which raises a pretty big fucking question: how the hell Deidara has mouths on both of hands? again, remember the circumstances in which Deidara became two arms short: his left one was fully crushed by Gaara, while his right elbow ended up being caught in Kakashi's Kamui, so his right upper arm and right hand got separated from each other. the mouth on the right arm is easy to explain - his original hand remained, so by the time of Isobu capture Deidara has his own right upper arm -> Kakuzu's stitches -> whatever the hell the used as a replacement of Deidara's elbow -> more stitches -> Deidara's original right hand with the mouth. but Deidara's left arm would look like Deidara's upper arm -> Kakuzu's stitches -> a replacement for Deidara's elbow and everything below it. and what a fucking replacement that is, because not only it a) perfectly fits with Deidara's complexity (and I mean his proportions, his new left arm doesn't look weird or causes him any comfort) b) whoever they took it from happened to have the same blood type as Deidara, and most importantly c) has a FUCKING mouth on the palm (which is not commonplace in the shinobi world, as we know). and the third requirement being fulfilled either makes Kakuzu the single most resourceful motherfucker in the entire shinobi world (because he'd quickly found a mouthy arm) or Akatsuki leadership for some reason dropped everything and started looking everywhere for someone who would have a left arm with a mouth on it, blood type AB and has the same complexity as 166 cm 50 something kg Deidara (which is surprsingly caring of said leadership considering they ditched Sasori's corpse instantly + Deidara is not that important in the grand scheme of things for both Nagato's and Obito's plan). so, as you can see, a lot of questions arise if we assume hand mouths to be some sort of intristic feature of Iwagakure's kinjutsu, however, if we presume that the kinjutsu is just the mouth on the chest, then Deidara could simply grow it on the new limb attatched to him after his chakra system connected with the new arm (and, considering that Kakuzu's own thingies work on the chakra system, this isn't that wild of an assumption to make).

okay, yapping session is somewhat over, I've established what I believe is the way Iwa's kinjutsu works. back to the reason why it is a forbidden jutsu: the user ends up with a mouth on their chest that poses an EXTREME danger to everyone including the user, and this is what Deidara himself named C0

let's talk a bit about the differences between the way Deidara's mouths are shown to operate, because he is the only indication that we have regarding how it works, what it does and why did Iwa ban it.

here's a side by side comparison to see what I mean. obviously, the size difference is quite considerable, but this might be explained by the fact that hand mouths don't have as much space as the chest one, but one thing can certainly be established: the chest mouth is much stronger and, I'll say, violent compared to its smaller siblings - the one and only time we see it, it opens up in such a way that makes me worry a lot about Deidara's spine and ribs + Deidara himself doesn't look really comfortable in the moment (however later as the activation of C0 starts he begins cackling in Sasuke's face, suggesting that the chest mouth opening must have been pretty uncomfortable for him, a guy who shrugged off two severed arms). another difference can be seen in the shape of the teeth on his chest and his palms: the handmouths look pretty tame and have human looking teeth, while the chest one... well, you certainly wouldn't want to have your hand bitten by that. but the most obvious and concerning difference between the two is how the hand mouths are just there, while Deidara has a seal AND an actual wire sewn into his chest mouth just to keep it shut, which makes it obvious that...

Deidara has no control over the chest mouth, unlike the hand ones.

Which is the first red flag to Iwa as people who developed and researched this thing. However, user not being able to control the jutsu is half of the problem, the REAL issue comes when you realize WHAT this mouth does. We see plenty of times how hand mouths operate: Deidara takes his clay, puts it in the mouths, the mouths inject it with a certain concentration of chakra (and I'm pretty sure that C1/C2/C3/C4 thing refers to the concentration of chakra within Deidara's creations, not their form, so C2 dragon doesn't have to look like a giant dragon, but it's cooler this way innit) and then Deidara shapes the clay into whatever form he needs before sending his creation to go kaboom.

However, this is not what happens with the chest mouth

Clearly, for its activation Deidara still has to feed it something, but then things get completely and utterly messed up in that regard that this mouth, seemingly, has no defined limit to the concentration of chakra it will inject into whatever ends up within it.

The first page immediately follows the panel above, so we can see that the mouths starts to suck up energy of the user immediately. And I say energy specifically, because it's not just chakra - which is the spiritual energy - but life energy as well. This is harder to see in the manga, but is kind of confirmed by how little shape Deidara has as C0 is getting closer to completion and is directly confirmed by the anime (and I don't like referring to anime as source for anything, but alas) that Deidara's body starts to lose color and almost dissolve? within seconds after he feeds the clay to the chest mouth. Oh, and those black lines being sucked up towards Deidara's heart area? Likely his chakra system being consumed too😊that mouth literally sucks in anything that has even the tiniest drop of energy in the user before concentrating it all in whatever ended up within that mouth. obviously, eventually such concentration becomes impossible to contain, so it all simply bursts out. in Deidara's case the entire situation only gets worse because, once again, he's got Bakuton, so not only this shit ton of energy is contained within a relatively tiny space, but this energy also happens to be highly explosive, so shit goes kaboom and I mean KABOOM - Viz's translation claims that 10 kilometers is just the radius of the resulting explosion, but I call bullshit on that and believe that this is a translator not comprehending the difference between radius and diameter (diameter is 2 * radius, so if we go off Viz's translation, then the total size of the territory that Deidara deleted with his death would be 20 kilometers from one side to the other) and American tendency to not quite understand what the fuck is a kilometer🦅🦅🦅🦅(to put into perspective, the baseline urban area speed limit in Europe is around 50 to 60 km/h, so it would take about 20 minutes to cross a distance of 20 kilometers which is the supposed size of the crater that Deidara left behind).

okay, let's sum up what is known about Iwagakure's kinjutsu: if it is sealed within someone, the user ends up with a giant toothy mouth right near their heart (and the center of chakra system, obviously). Said mouth can not be controlled, so the only option is to literally slap another seal right on top of it + sew it shut. If something ends up within this mouth, it instantly starts to literally consume the user, and judging by the speed of the process, it can not be reversed. Finally, after a dozen of seconds, the concentration of energy reaches a critical point, and it all bursts out, wiping out everything in its vicinity.

Should it even be stated why Iwagakure would classify this thing as a kinjutsu?

Anyway, there is another thing that I find absolutely fascinating: Deidara knows the exact size of the explosion that will happen after C0 is completed. Now why is that? Deidara, obviously, couldn't learn that from simply experimenting on himself (C0 is a one time thing, after all). We are never told that he's got some sort of PhD in kinjutsu and chakra concentration calculation (which would be really fucking funny if he would just sit down after the missions, get his reading glasses and start calculating how much shit he could destroy given this or that level of chakra within himself + what is the rate at which his life energy can be converted into explosion energy. i can just imagine that looks that Sasori and Obito would give him respectively). So another logical conclusion that we can come to is - Iwagakure actually tested this kinjutsu on people, saw what it did, recorded their findings and banned it all from being used because no one wants the village to fly up directly into the Pure Lands. It's not conclusive if one of the subjects had Bakuton to give the exact size of the resulting implosion (because again, 10 fucking kilometers is a lot and whoever is doing the tests would probably be killed too) or Deidara has some sort of general idea how his kekkei genkai would affect the results of the chest mouth doing its thing.

And the fact of human experimentation commited by Iwa is kind of confirmed by the circumstances in which Deidara has abandoned the village - Deidara stole the kinjutsu, used it on himself and proceeded to kill the squad that Iwa sent after him for stealing the jutsu, developing his philosophy of art of a single moment (again, this all happened when the kid was like 11. like, dude, chill for 5 seconds, Naruto was still sitting his ass on that swing at the same age, do you really need to speedrun your life that fast). Again, Deidara stole the kinjutsu to further his abilities, meaning he KNEW beforehand what it does and how it's supposed to work (he was also aware of what that chest mouth does and. Iwagakure? Why is your 11 year old this happy and ready to put himself under the danger of killing himself in a very horrifying way??). And him knowning what kinjutsu is all about means that there must have certainly been some records regarding the experiments with it😊

(and if you're wondering how Deidara could have gained access to a literally banned justu, remember, before becoming a nukenin he already was a member of Bakuha Butai which seems to be a special squad in Iwagakure hierarchy focused exclusively on explosions + Deidara was Onoki's student, so everything suggest that he was a high-ranking officer and would have access to the secret info such as the forbidden jutsus of the village. yes, all of that took place even before he hit puberty. it's the same story as Itachi's and Kakashi's, where old men look at a kid, decide to promote them to a very high position and then everyone makes a pikachu face when things start to go terribly wrong)

anyway, i think that's pretty much it for what I wanted to say about Deidara's kinjutsu and its body and not-body horror? thanks for coming to my Tobitalk

p.s. a personal headcanon of mine is that similarly how Tobirama developed all of these kinjutsus for Konoha, Mu the Second Tsuchikage is the one who developed and tested kinjutsu that Deidara would proceed to steal + Mu himself has got, like, a dozen of mouths beneath all of those bandages, cuz why the fuck not + he seems freaky like that lol

#naruto #jolt showa's ramblings #deidara

14 notes · View notes

juryokunojikan · 19 days ago

Text

help i finished bridge arc and i'm having zoomies. dumping everything here to avoid flooding the tag.

i love how the story emphasize all the time that sekirei have a "should be" that has been deeply instilled in them and that totally screw them up. how this is taken by them as a fact that determines whether they are worthy of live or worthy of love or whatever. how the official narrative (master of the winner will have the world in their hands) ultimately taints whatever good there might be in the bond between sekirei and ashikabi. etc etc.

and then you have all those instances and characters trying to do better and reshaping that goddamit narrative into something more breathable for everyone. like how kazehana makes clear that even the weakest of them was born to love or when tsukiumi realizes that she resents Kuno because she dares to easily take what tsukiumi perceives as a merit-based reward, and by the end of the arc "forgives" her (and herself?) for this "weakness".

and, you see, one of the things that sold me on this manga is how Minato accepts and validates the feelings of the sekirei that are involved with him as something genuine and important no matter how insane the whole situation must be from his pov.

man doesn't overestimate himself, always tries to rise to the occasion and is even willing to negotiate things that he probably took for granted all his life (like his own monogamy, as he does in the finale, granting the North a happy ending and effectively destoying me and my ability to enjoy any other harem series).

look at them. I would go to war for them.

In the end, it all keeps coming back to the idea that the Sekirei are bound to a great suffering but are also capable of great love and Minato understands that fact right away. Sometimes in the middle of reading I am hit with these thoughts and ughhhh I love this young man so much, he must be one of my favorite main characters ever. It hurts me to see that he was so disliked by the fanbase.

and yet (you can beat me with a stick here) these early arcs also show how subtly but steadily he's forming some ideas about the ashikabi's right to "master" the sekirei without even realizing how bad it is, all while being encouraged by matsu and other characters to become a stronger ashikabi. like how it's bad that he can't "keep his pieces under control", or how they fucking hunted down tsukiumi or how during kazehana's winging he goes from desiring her to desiring her powers (again the struggle between love and fight) in one single page.

Its important to highlight this bc it's a point of conflict that will culminate during the next arc with Homura in charge of calling him out.

Now some assorted things unrelated to the above:

At the beginning of the arc we have Tsukiumi wanting to unveil the veiled sekirei for fighting dishonestly when a couple of volumes before she chose to preserve Homura's identity because for her taking advantage of a fallen rival is not the honorable thing to do. she's like a samurai who part-times as a waifu I love her so much.

Uzume, my poor girl. how scared must she have been in this moment. last time she made a deal it was with higa.

Leaving aside the obvious suicidal ideation and the fact that chapter covers aren't always canon, i was always intrigued by this homura with painted nails. Did he paint them himself? or did anyone else paint them for him? does he still do it? I know dysphoria well enough to know why he would stop doing it, but did he used to enjoy it? and where did the crest come from? Is the MBI sending nail art stickers to their overpowered alien warriors to keep them in a good mood while they're forced to kill each other? obsessed with the implications.

There's a long way to go until Musubi frees all Sekirei, including those who didn't fight until the end. for now she keeps establishing herself as a bearer of bonds/wishes just like yume was. no one else thought to ask Kuno what she wanted!

and speaking of what, I'm going to let it sink in that this sweet sweet girl died with her body lacerated not once but twice. What a fun and light-hearted story. fuck.

#sekirei #stupid big tiddy manga (affectionate)

9 notes · View notes

spreadyovrwings · 10 months ago

Text

64 Oslo Square

"Companion' Middle English. From Old French ‘compaignon', literally 'one who breaks bread with another.

Strapped for cash, John gets a job at a bakery as their new delivery boy. Juggling school and Queen and work is exhausting, but it’s more than worth it. It's worth it because of you.

Warnings for this chapter: obscene flirting... characters realising their life has more to it than their job? other characters learning other people aren't quite so scary and can be trusted? those two characters fancying each other like crazy? yeah.

Chapter Nine

Steam billowed from the kettle’s spout. You watched it swell and curl through the air, until it hit the low kitchen ceiling and dispersed. On the mantelpiece, your grandmother’s carriage clock chimed ten.

It was the longest you’d been able to sleep in in years. Though you’d been trying to cast your mind back all morning as you set about making breakfast, you couldn’t recall the last time you’d been able to go to bed without setting an alarm.

Though the days were growing steadily warmer as summer rolled in, mornings were still cold in your little flat. You tucked your chin under the collar of your thick woollen jumper and puffed out a breath to warm your body.

It had not been a good week.

It’s difficult to anticipate how one might react in a situation like yours. You thought if someone had asked you a few months ago what you might say if given life-altering news like the kind Gladys had given you, you probably would’ve said you’d rage and eff and blind until the problem righted itself. You’d go out fighting, at least. But when Gladys set off her grenade, you didn’t say a word. You just stared at her. You stared and stared, and stared some more.

It didn’t take long for you to find your voice, though. Not after Gladys started to describe the whole ordeal. She couldn’t seem to get the words out fast enough, it was like watching someone in confession. Her open mouth was like a gutter, gushing words and apologies and useless explanations until finally, you couldn’t take anymore.

“You selfish cow!”

John came into the room when the shouting started. Mickey was close behind. One of them put a hand on your shoulder, it must have been Mickey because the hand was heavy and solid like a slab of concrete.

“Skip…”

John slipped his fingers between yours, trying to bring you back down to Earth, but you barely felt him.

“How could you do this to us? To Mickey? To me?”

Gladys covered her face with her hands, her chunky rings glinting in the low lights.

“I’m sorry!”

“He’s just had a baby!”

“I know, I know-”

“This is my home!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t think in a million years he would-”

You stopped listening. John was murmuring close to your ear, telling you to stop now. His long fingers were wrapped tight around yours, keeping you grounded but only just.

“Sweetheart, leave her,” he murmured. “You should get some air. Just come with me and breathe for a second. Please.”

But that didn’t sound like a reasonable option either. You didn’t want to go outside. You didn’t want to keep having this conversation either. Standing here, shouting at Gladys, that was the only thing that made sense.

“How could you be so stupid.”

The words barely made it out from between your gritted teeth.

You felt John’s hand leave yours. Mickey too took a step back. They both seemed to realise this wasn’t their fight, this wasn’t something they had a right to be involved in, even though they were grieving too.

Gladys was the brightest, most joyous person you knew. She flitted from person to person like a hummingbird. With her brightly coloured hair and her clattering jewellery, she was as dazzling on the outside as she was on the inside. But right now, she seemed to have shrunk a few inches. Her colour had dulled. Her light had gone out.

“I just thought he was interested in me,” Gladys looked down at the floor, ashamed. “No one’s ever been interested in me. And he seemed so eager to learn about the bakery and I thought- I thought maybe he was just proud of me. For building this place. For doing something so amazing on my own. But I was wrong.”

You could still feel your pulse pounding in your neck and the base of your skull. You couldn’t recall ever feeling so angry and let down in all your life. Time seemed to be rushing by you, and all you wanted was for John to hold your hand again.

Gladys still couldn’t look at you. In a way, you were relieved. You didn’t think you’d be able to meet her gaze either.

It was difficult to order the feelings surging through you. You loved Gladys. You owed her so much. You’d do anything for her and until today, you would have sworn she’d always put you, or at least Oslo Square, above all else. Despite everything, she was a good person. You knew that. She was enticing and gregarious and too trusting and a fool. And she had let you down for the last time.

“I will never forgive you for this,” you said, then turned and walked into the kitchen, through the back door and out into the alley.

But you didn’t get far. You never would.

Sinking down on the bakery’s back step, you folded your knees up to your body and prayed the pressure would take the ache away. It didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sob that lay in wait in the back of your throat.

Sun filtered through into the alleyway, falling on the ground in puddles of light. Above you, the sky was so clear, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. And you just wanted to cry and cry and cry.

There was a sound behind you, the scuff of a boot against the cement steps. You pushed your face into your crossed arms, not ready to face anyone just yet.

“Skip?”

It was John. Of course it was. Who else would they send after you?

He called you by your nickname again, then as he came to sit beside you, your real name, softer, more intimate.

Finally, you raised your head.

He was looking at you closely, his clever eyes switching across your face. He was trying to work out how upset you were, how carefully he needed to tread around you. That was just his way, John was just being a good friend, but right now, you didn't want kindness and gentleness, you just wanted to be left alone.

“John, I think maybe…”

“It’s going to be alright.”

It wasn’t like him to interrupt. Usually, John weighed every word with care, as if each syllable would cost him a great deal, or he had a finite number at his disposal. You had always admired that about him; everyone else in your life spoke so carelessly, like it didn't matter at all.

“John…”

“C’mon,” he said, nodding now, like he’d made up his mind about something. “Let’s go upstairs. We’ll have a cuppa and we’ll-”

You wrapped a hand around his arm and squeezed gently, asking him to stop without a word. John looked so crestfallen, you couldn’t bear it.

You stood up, crossing your arms over your chest, as if it would help to keep the sickness sitting in your throat at bay.

“I think maybe you should go home,” you said as gently as you could. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”

John looked surprised, then a little hurt. It shouldn’t have annoyed you but it did a little. He had no idea what you were going through, he should just listen and know that when you said you needed some time, you meant it.

But the small part of your brain that could still think clearly knew that wasn’t fair. If the roles were reversed, as they had been before, you knew you would badger John relentlessly until he was forced to talk about whatever was bothering him. But this wasn’t about an exam or a tiff with his band, this was your whole life, your whole future, and it had wrenched from your grasp without you even knowing it

“Okay.” John slowly rose to his feet, his hands awkwardly moving from his pockets to his hips, behind his back and then to his pockets again. “I’ll come see you. Later.”

You nodded, your lips pulled back in a grim smile.

“I’ll call you,” you said again firmly.

For a moment, John didn’t move, he didn’t even blink. Then finally, he seemed to get the message.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Just… Be careful with yourself, darling.”

Then he was gone and you were alone again.

That was two days ago. You hadn’t left your lonely flat since.

You poured boiling water into your favourite mug, waited a few minutes, then added the milk. Your movements were robotic, rehearsed, the habit of a lifetime that required no thought at all, and thank God, as you didn’t have the energy to think or feel much of anything.

The phone rang again but you didn’t even spare it a glance as you padded back to your bedroom and closed the door.

Life went on like this for a few more days before finally, you decided to pull yourself together. You got dressed, headed downstairs, and debated whether or not to turn on the ovens.

Mickey hadn’t come into work since the news. You couldn’t blame him, he had a baby at home and a wife to reassure. You had no one. Just an empty flat and a cold, silent bakery. But even that wasn’t yours anymore. Mickey phoned often enough though, asking if there were any updates and if he could do anything to help. You wished you had something to tell him.

You looked around at the old kitchen. The multicoloured tiles from renovation after renovation, the cookers and the ovens, all older than half the buildings on the road, the pots and pans, bowls and utensils, all lying unused. They seemed to stare at you, waiting for answers, just like Mickey, just like the customers you watched from your window, who passed by every day and soon left again, looking disappointed and confused.

Yeah, you thought, me too.

You grabbed some paper from behind the till, scribble a quick note, then sellotaped it to the door.

Closed until further notice.

You stared at the sign, letting the words truly sink in, then turned and went to go hide yourself away upstairs.

Then the door chimed.

“Skip?”

You looked up, heart pounding. It had only been a few days, but it was the longest you’d gone without seeing John for the best part of a year.

You’d somehow forgotten how tall he was, how lanky and gangly he looked standing in the bakery doorway, his perfect, long hair a striking contrast to his shabby clothes.

He smiled at you, shy and unsure, and you wished you could do more than stare back.

“Hi,” John said as he carefully pushed open the door all the way and finally stepped inside.

As the door rang shut again, you gritted your teeth. You thought if he’d asked, if he’d given you the choice, you probably would’ve said that now wasn’t a good time and he should come back later.

“Hi,” you said instead, and watched him pocket the key Gladys had given him on his first day.

John looked at you like he was waiting for you to say more. You couldn’t blame him for that. You’d led every conversation you’d ever shared, guiding him and teasing him, wheedling information out of him with a fine hook. Now, you couldn’t for the life of you think of anything to say.

“You haven’t been answering the phone,” John said eventually. “I was worried.”

He cautiously approached the desk. Perhaps he’d only just noticed the thick tension in the air, or maybe he was just having trouble pushing through it, but he seemed to take careful steps, his eyes fixed on you.

“Well,” You tried not to sound huffy but it came out all wrong. “I’m kind of dealing with something right now. I don’t have time for…”

“What?”

He was challenging you, daring you to say more. You clammed up, feeling chastised.

“Did you talk to Gladys?”

You nodded.

You’d spent the last few days in meetings with your boss, discussing what had happened, trying to figure a way out of this mess, going over the details and again and again until you were both exhausted and resigned to the idea that this place was no longer yours. Everything that Gladys had built, everything you’d worked for, was gone.

“What did she say? What’s going on?”

John came closer until he could rest his hands on the counter. You stared at them, following the outline of each of his long fingers.

He really did have such lovely hands. The round onyx ring he wore on his little finger, the silver one he always took off and pocketed when he was helping out, because it was Freddie’s and he didn’t want to ruin it. The little scars from his childhood and faded burns from mucking about with machines. You’d missed them.

“Did you fix it?”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head.

“No.”

At home, you blankly stared at the ceiling, at the television screen, into the mirror. It had slowly begun to dawn on you that outside of 64 Oslo Square, you had nothing. Friends you saw once in a blue moon, no hobbies, no interests, no idea of what the future would hold. Everything, you’d put everything into the bakery, your whole life. In just a few weeks, you’d even have to find a new flat. Everything was falling apart.

“There has to be something we can do. She’s made a mistake.”

“I know.”

“C’mon, love. We can sort this out.”

It was too much. It was just all too much. You didn’t want to hear positivity and hopefulness, you didn’t want anyone to be kind to you, especially John, not after the way you’d pushed him away. You didn’t want gentleness and softness, because it meant he thought something had happened to warrant that care, and you didn’t want to be someone who needed looking after. You didn’t want to be someone that had had something so awful happen to them.

“I can’t do this.”

You pushed away from the counter and moved into the kitchen, heading for the door to your flat. All you wanted was to crawl back into bed and shut out the world. Compartmentalism had got you nowhere, not when one of the best things about your job had turned up out of the blue asking you a million questions and caring about you far more than you deserved.

You didn’t expect John to follow you, but you heard his boots clunking against the kitchen floor, his voice soft and low as he called out again,

“Skip?”

You bit back a sob. You weren’t Skip anymore. You weren’t the captain of anything. You had no bakery, no business, no prospects, you were just- You were nothing.

“Leave me alone.”

You tried to sound forceful but the words got caught in your throat.

“Love, please-”

John was right behind you as you wrenched open the door up to your flat. You could hear his stupid boots on the stairs.

“John, I can’t-”

“Just talk to me.”

“You don’t understand!”

You stopped in the middle of the stairs and span around. It must have taken John by surprise because he staggered to a halt, one foot hanging in midair, as if he’d been in the middle of a step.

“In a month, I won’t have a home or a job, and this place will be packed up and turned into luxury flats or some half-arsed storefront selling overpriced street food to bastards like him, and I won’t have anything.”

It was as if someone else was doing the talking. You could almost believe you were standing beside yourself, watching as you shouted at John, your eyes shining and your jaw tight. You wanted to tell yourself to stop, that he didn’t deserve to be talked to like that, but you couldn’t close the floodgates.

“And you, you’ll swan off with your band or pack it in and become an engineer, and you’ll forget all about us and this place, and I’ll never see you again.”

John’s eyes flashed but his expression was as neutral and measured as ever.

“That’s not going to happen,” he said evenly. “You really think that little of me?”

“Oh, shut up, I was only-”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. You don’t get to decide how much I care about something. Alright?”

“Why would you care? You’re just the delivery boy. Some student Gladys took pity on cos she can’t resist strays.”

“I love this place too, you know I do. Things aren’t as easy for me as you think.”

You scoffed. It annoyed you that he could be so rational and calm at a time like this, when all you wanted to do was shout and accuse and lash out.

“Oh, poor John. It must be so hard for you, being a genius and having to choose between being rich and famous and being a bloody rocket scientist, or whatever the fuck it is you do. Life must be so difficult.”

Finally, John scowled. He moved closer, so now he was on the step just below yours, your faces level for the first time.

“You don’t know anything about my life.”

“Not for lack of trying!”

“You’re so- I’ve given you more of myself than I’ve ever given anyone!”

“Oh, well lucky me.”

“God, you’re-”

“What?”

“You’re…”

John trailed off. He seemed to realise, at the same time as you, just how close you were to each other.

You waited, hardly daring to breathe. John was maybe a few inches away, his chin tilted up ever so slightly so that he could meet your gaze. His pretty, silvery green eyes were fixed on yours, as if to make a point. You were fighting the same urge, to not look down at his lips, angled so perfectly up towards you, it was enough to make your chest lurch.

Slowly, so slowly it was almost painful, you watched as John’s gaze finally slipped and he glanced down at your mouth. Surrender. You followed immediately, and felt time speed up again. You caught your breath. Your heart was hammering so hard, you were sure John must’ve been able to hear it, feel it.

John’s gaze dropped again and stayed for longer this time, very obviously debating something that terrified and excited you all at once. It was just a matter of who would give in first.

“We’re not going to kiss,” you whispered, not trusting your voice. “Not like…”

You made the mistake of letting your eyes fall to his lips again, one last time. They parted ever so slightly, an invitation, like he was asking you to give in and take what you’d been wanting for so long. You pressed your lips together and immediately regretted it. You’d given yourself away.

The corner of John’s mouth twitched up into a little smile.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured. “You said some horrible things to me.”

You pulled in a lungful of air and closed your eyes. The moment was gone, but it still took you a second or two to get your feet back on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” You rubbed your tired eyes, feeling guilty and ashamed and dizzy all at once. “I was being stupid.”

John shrugged.

“Just because it was hurtful doesn’t mean it wasn’t accurate.”

“Still, I’m being an idiot. I’m sorry, John. It’s been a fucking awful week.”

He smiled to let you know he understood. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth again, just for a second, but you couldn’t have missed it.

“Not like what?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“You said ‘We’re not going to kiss. Not like…’. Not like what?” John raised his eyebrows. “Not like this, you mean?”

It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d spoken those words out loud. It was jarring to hear John repeat them back to you, and even more surprising to realise that’s exactly what you meant.

You nodded.

“Not like this.”

This wasn’t the right time, as much as it pained you. He was so close, looking up at you so sweetly, telling you how much he cared about you and that he just wanted to help. But John was right, you’d been horrible to him, and you were so sad you could barely breathe. When you did kiss him, you wanted it to be right, you wanted it to be good, you wanted to make the world stop turning.

John nodded, looking down at his ridiculous shoes. When he looked up again, his gaze still lingered antagonistically around your mouth. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

“When then?”

“What?”

“When can I kiss you?”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed.

“When you get me my bakery back.”

John grinned. He had such a lovely smile, so bright and honest.

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Promise?”

John crossed his index finger over his heart.

“Promise.”

You beamed at each other. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed, like nothing was wrong, or could ever be wrong. Because John was here and he was smiling at you, and he wanted to kiss you and knew you wanted to kiss him. But then reality slowly seeped in, harsh and so cold, it made you shiver.

“It’s hopeless, John,” you murmured, and pressed your face into your palms.

John wrapped his long fingers around your forearms and squeezed gently. When he carefully pulled your hands away from your face, you saw he was smiling sweetly.

“Shall I stick the kettle on?” he asked.

You’d never heard anything more romantic in your life.

You led him up the stairs to your flat and let him make you a cup of tea, while you sat on the sofa and watched him move around in the kitchen.

It was only tiny. Even ‘kitchen’ was a generous word, it was just the two sideboards, the hob and some cupboards set into the wall, but John moved around them as if he’d lived there all his life, and you were, once again, assured that he was fated to be 64 Oslo Square’s delivery boy.

“I was thinking about finding a flat. For after uni.” John handed you a mug and sat down beside you. “You could, um… Maybe I could start looking now and… You know, obviously we don’t know when things will… But I could look and…”

You blinked at him.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

John’s cheeks were tinged pink.

“I just want you to know you have options. I know you’re going to figure this out, but I want you to know you have somewhere safe to stay.”

Your chest squeezed as a wave of affection washed over you. How did you ever get so lucky? It was a small relief, in a way, to know that no matter what happened, you had a friend in John. The idea of moving into a flat together felt unreal right now. The more you pondered on it, the more the severity of your situation seemed to settle in.

“There’s nothing to figure out, John.” You sighed. “Gladys signed the paperwork. You know, she didn’t even really understand what she was signing? He got her drunk then pushed the papers across the table and told her he wanted to invest in the bakery, she just had to sign. Daft cow.”

“How’s Mickey taking it?”

“He’s alright. He’s a fantastic baker, he could find a job anywhere.”

“So could you.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You’re joking. Everything you make is incredible! And you’re passionate and you’re dedicated… You could find somewhere else. Maybe start your own place someday.”

You laughed softly, embarrassed by the compliment. His faith in you was flattering. No one had ever said anything like that to you before.

You reached out and took John’s hand, folding your fingers between his and interlocking them, as if you’d done it a million times before.

“You’re so sweet. But I can’t.” You squeezed his hand gently. “I started working here when I was sixteen. Have I told you that?”

John shook his head.

“I used to pass by on my way to school. Me and my friends would come in every Friday. And every day, Gladys was there, behind the counter. And she was mad and funny and she let us stay all afternoon, even though we only had enough money for a cuppa and a cake. And when I left school, there was one place I wanted to work.”

You looked up at the photo of you, Gladys and Mickey on your mantelpiece. Your tiny, ridiculous, mismatched family.

“I was just behind the counter at first, like you. But it was fun, it was a living. Then Shaz, the head baker back then, she started letting me help out. I loved it so much. The time things took. The attention to detail. The warmth of the kitchen. And it’s stressful but it’s full of love. You know? Everything we make is…”

You squeezed John’s hand again.

“When you see people smiling because of the things you make… It’s the best feeling in the world. I asked if I could start working as a baker and Gladys agreed, and even knocked a bit off the price of this place.”

Together, you looked around at your tiny flat. It wasn’t much but it was home, it was yours. You’d never had anything that was just yours before, and you couldn’t stress it enough, the importance of having space, having ownership, a room of one’s own, especially for a working class woman in 1973, especially for someone making it on their own.

“This is my home, John. And these people, they’re my family. I had nothing and the bakery gave me a purpose. I can’t just find somewhere else. I can’t. I can’t. It’s Oslo Square or nothing.”

John watched you for a moment, and you wondered if maybe you’d bored him with your outpouring. You wouldn’t be shocked. But then he raised your interlocked hands and held them to his chest.

“I’ll get it back for you. I promise.”

You laughed softly. He’d surprised you yet again.

“Where did you come from, New Boy? You really are an angel, aren’t you.”

“I don’t know about that.” John shyly glanced away. “The bakery means a lot to me too now. I want to help. If I can.”

Was it too early to revise your ‘no kissing’ policy? You really wanted to kiss him. Actually, kissing John would probably fix most of your problems. Or, at the very least, make them much easier to deal with. God, you could probably make him moan with just a kiss, you could tell from looking at him that he’d be a noisy one. Or maybe he’d lay you back on the couch and run those stupidly big hands all over you, playing you like one of his instruments. You wouldn’t mind that at all.

“Skip?”

You blinked. John was looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, sorry,” You gave him a wonky sort of a grin. “Just a bit tired, I think.”

John didn’t look like he believed you but he let you off the hook.

“I think you need to get out of the house.”

You had to agree. Aside from nipping to the shops for the essentials, you hadn’t left your flat since Gladys’ news.

“Where do you wanna go?”

“Well, actually,” John said guiltily. “I have to meet the lads at three. I wondered if you wanted to come.”

“To watch you rehearse?”

“It’ll probably be really boring for you, but you’ll get to see a few arguments. And we can get lunch first or dinner after or… I don’t mind, I just want you with me.” John blushed. “But you can say no, I didn’t mean to-”

You laughed softly. He really was the sweetest boy alive.

“I’d love to, John.”

That afternoon, Queen were rehearsing in a studio space in South London. John was tempted to grab the tube but you convinced him onto the bus, remembering, as you handed over your change to the driver, that he’d once admitted he was nervous about travelling that way. If he was going to be a proper Londoner, you thought, he had to learn how to use the buses, and the 49 seemed as good a place to start as any.

You watched John watch the world go by. He really was so beautiful and he had no clue. He had some semblance of an idea that he was alright, you knew that. The way John preened in front of every passing mirror told you so. But he didn’t see the lovely slope of his strong nose, or the way his grey eyes shone every time he saw something that piqued his interest, or the way his lovely, funny mouth twitched at the corners just before he was about to murmur something to you in that lovely, funny voice.

You’d tell him, you decided. Soon. You’d tell him just how beautiful you thought he was.

It was only when you followed John through the quiet, carpeted corridors of the recording studios that you began to feel nervous. You’d never been anywhere like that before, it was a foreign land.

As you passed, you peered through the porthole windows of every door to catch glimpses of steely grey microphones and mixing desks in big glass boxes. It was like something out of a film, something you’d only ever seen in magazines and photographs.

John seemed totally at ease. You supposed you were seeing him in his world for the first time. He would protest, he was a scientist, an engineer, he wasn’t a rockstar, but he was a musician, through and through. This world of dials and crossfades and endless electric cables suited him very well.

Eventually, he pushed open a door and held it open for you, gesturing for you to go in first.

The room was only small, probably all he and his friends could afford to hire by the hour. In the corner sat a shiny, black grand piano. Freddie tapped on the keys, humming under his breath as if building a tune just from a few plaintive notes. Next to that, there was a row of guitars all standing to attention, and a drum kit, steadily being put together to just the right requirements by Roger.

He looked up when the door opened.

“Hi, John. We were just saying-” Roger stopped in his tracks and immediately brightened when he saw you come in. “Bakery girl!”

“Hiya, Rog.”

You laughed as he came over to give you a big hug. It had been a while since you’d seen John, so it had been even longer since you saw his friends. You were sure Roger was only sweet to you because he knew it annoyed John but you were more than happy to play along.

John waited until Roger had gone back to his drum kit to stop frowning.

“Brian not here yet?” he asked, a little gruffly.

Freddie scoffed.

“He’s late. Again. He’s teaching somewhere in Balham. He’ll probably be hours, you know how he likes to bang on. You don’t play guitar, do you, love?”

You smiled shyly as Freddie also came over to greet you.

“No, sorry. Just the recorder in Year 3.”

“Ah, you’ll fit right in.”

Freddie beamed.

You didn’t know him as well as Roger but every time you saw Freddie, you practically tripped over yourself to befriend him. He was just so cool, so beautiful, his voice soft and his mannerisms so enchanting. He drew you in, just as he did the crowds when he was on stage, like a siren beckoning in beguiled ships.

“How are you doing?” Freddie held you by the shoulders as his soft dark eyes searched yours. “We’ve heard about this awful business with that twat. Andrew, was it?”

“Alastair.”

“That’s the bastard.” Freddie shook his head. “I’m so sorry, love.”

You wondered how much John had told them. By all accounts, he wasn’t the most talkative of people. In fact, you were still getting used to how much he spoke now. If you compared the boy standing beside you to the boy who first anxiously walked into the bakery that cold January night, you would almost say they were completely different people.

“Thanks, Freddie.”

“Are you staying?” asked Roger.

You glanced at John and he shot you an encouraging smile.

“If it’s okay with you lot?”

“Make yourself at home!”

You found a seat off to the side, just behind John’s amp.

You couldn’t help staring, transfixed, as he got himself set up. You could watch his hands forever, the way his fingers slipped over the strings, how the instrument fit perfectly against his body. Even watching him plug in his bass was mesmerising. It all just seemed to come so naturally to John, as most things did. He really was wonderful.

Queen warmed up slowly, giving Brian more time to turn up, and as they did, they passed ideas back and forth to each other. It was like a foreign language. Musical terms, notes, lyrics, pacing, you didn’t understand any of it, though you loved to listen to the boys figure it all out together.

For the most part, Freddie and Roger talked back and forth, while John watched, thumbing pensively at the thickest string of his bass as he waited to play. But you noticed how they never decided anything without consulting John for the final say, and his word seemed to be gospel.

John looked back at you over his shoulder and shot you a rare confident smile. You just had time to blush before the door opened and Brian fell in, apologising and shaking his head so that his wild, dark curls danced.

Brian waved to you but didn’t waste any time chatting. He grabbed his guitar and struck up a chord that filled the room with that familiar, quintessentially them sound.

They were magic to watch. You couldn’t wait to see what they became.

Soon, Freddie started to complain that he needed a drink to soothe his raw voice, and Roger and Brian went with him. They asked if you and John wanted anything but you both declined quickly, eager to be alone together again.

As soon as the door shut behind them, John turned to you properly and smiled. He nodded down at his bass, asking wordlessly if you’d like to try.

Grinning, you nodded too, and tried not to look too pleased as he ducked out of the strap. John gently lifted it over your head, and you tried to keep still as he settled the bass against you. You’d never held a bass guitar before. You hadn’t expected it to be so heavy.

“Oof, wow.”

You rolled your shoulders back, adjusting your posture so that you could balance its weight better.

“I know,” John’s hands skirted over your shoulders, making sure the strap was sitting comfortably first before he came round to stand in front of you. “I’ll have a terrible back when I’m an old man, I’m sure of it.”

Trying to remember how his hands moved when you watched him play, you lifted your left hand and pressed the tip of your index finger against the first metal string. It was thick and strong, and indented your skin as you pressed down. You couldn’t imagine how he managed to play so quickly, so deftly. The instrument seemed ungainly and oversensitive to you.

“You make it look so easy.”

John just smiled.

It was nice to see him in his element, to see him confident and sure of himself. He’d had once told you that he only picked up the bass because his first band needed it. You found it hard to believe, John and the bass, they seemed made for each other.

“You’ve almost got it. Here.”

You held your breath as John moved to stand behind you again. His left hand came up to cover yours, gently twisting your wrist around so that it was positioned nicely under the neck. With his other hand, he plucked a few notes on the lowest string, then took your index finger between his and showed you how to curl it just right. You swallowed thickly, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear your shaky breaths.

“Feels funny,” John said as he watched you pluck out a few tentative notes. “Me teaching you something for once.”

Face hot, you just tried to concentrate on playing right.

“You’re a much better baker than I am a bassist.”

John moved closer to correct your left hand, and now his chest was pressed up against your back. You tensed, trying to keep as still as possible but it was difficult to concentrate with him so close. All questions about whether he was doing it on purpose left your head when he spoke softly by your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“I don’t know,” John let his hand slip down your forearm, just as it did the neck of his bass, and tentatively let it rest just above your waist. “Looks pretty good from where I’m standing.”

You stopped attempting to play, it was pointless. You couldn’t so much as hold a thought in your head, let alone carry a tune. You turned your head to the side until you could just see John out of the corner of your eye.

“You’ve taught me a lot, you know,” John went on. “Not just the baking. You’ve made me much braver.”

His big hand felt heavy against your side. You were suddenly hyper aware of the slightest movement of each of his fingers. While his other arm was slung across the body of the bass, his fingers tucked underneath it to support its weight, the fingers of his left hand pressed into your soft waist ever so slightly and you had to hold back a gasp. You were touching so much, it was insane, you could barely remember your own name.

“I think I just bullied you into talking more.”

Your voice was shaky and low. You knew John would catch it but you didn’t care. You were too busy thinking about how warm his chest felt against your back, and how if you angled your hips just right, you could sink back into him until his hips were fitted against your arse. Then John spoke again, so close now that it felt like his lips were close to brushing your neck

“I’m glad you did.”

You could practically feel him smile against your skin as he added,

“You’re good for me, I think.”

Slowly, carefully, you turned your head a little further, and John shifted around so that you could meet each other’s gaze properly.

His confidence seemed to slip the moment he knew you could see him, but the hand that rested heavily on your waist slipped down to your hip and squeezed.

“I think you’re good for me too,” you said, and smiled when John blushed under your gaze.

There was no space between you at all. Just one move, one inclination of your head, one press of John’s hand, and you’d be in his arms, your fingers in his lovely hair, your mouth pressed against his with only the bass between you, and suddenly the worst week of your life would be over.

You had just the wherewithal to realise how wrong you’d been. You thought you were alone, you thought you had no life outside of the bakery, but here you were, in the arms of the sweetest boy you’d ever known, listening to his band create some of the best music you’d ever heard, and John truly believed everything would be okay. Maybe you ought to trust him.

John let out a short breath, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, as if he too was nervous and excited and uncertain all at once. How sweet it was to know he felt exactly what you were feeling.

“What you said about, erm, no kissing till I’ve got your bakery back,” John murmured, his pretty eyes fixed unashamedly on your mouth. “Is that a… Is that a hard and fast rule? Or more like a suggestion?”

You smiled, and watched John’s adam’s apple bob in his lovely throat.

“What do you think, pretty boy?”

It was very clear from the look in John’s eyes what he thought about that. He bent his head, slowly and with great consideration, just like with everything he did, until the tip of his nose brushed yours. You felt your eyes close without you needing to think about it, your lips parting as you heard John say,

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting t-”

“Oh, have we got a new bassist? Lovely.”

Your eyes snapped open in time to see Freddie swoop into the room with a drink in his hand. He was smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am, love. You’ll look much better in the costumes.”

John begrudgingly moved away but he was smiling to himself. Caught. When his hands left you, it felt like all the air had come rushing back into the room.

The boys chatted as they filed back in, passing around ideas and thoughts on the next show, but you could barely hear them over the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears.

John stayed close. You couldn’t be more relieved. After today, after this week, you never wanted him to move out of arm’s reach again.

“Thanks for today,” you whispered to him, when you were sure the others wouldn’t hear you. “I needed this.”

John shrugged, then carefully helped you out from under his bass. He slipped it over his head, then swung the guitar round so that it wouldn’t bump against you as he took your hand in his.

“You’ve saved me enough times. It’s about time I returned the favour, Captain.”

“I’m still Captain, am I?”

“Of course! You’ll always be my captain.”

“I was worried… I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me anymore, now you don’t have to.”

John smiled.

“It wasn’t the bakery I was coming to see, love. I haven’t been getting up at the crack of dawn and peddling across half of London for the bakery. I didn’t suffer scraped knees and a daft helmet for Gladys and her bloody ancient coffee machine.”

You marvelled at this for a second, then you smiled.

“It’s Mickey, isn’t it.”

John laughed.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Can’t get enough of the bloke.”

“I knew it, I knew it.”

”It’s the arms.”

“Who can blame you.”

Master List

#john deacon #queen #john deacon x reader #john deacon reader #john deacon fic #queen fic #john deacon x you

27 notes · View notes