#golden pagoda

[kyotodreamtrips]

Field of cosmos flowers with the backdrop of the “Three-Story Pagoda” of the Hōki-ji Temple, founded in 638 by Prince Shotoku. The Pagoda was built in 708 and is the oldest three-story pagoda in Japan.

[mlenny]

Golden Temple inside Shwedagon Pagoda in Sunset Twilight. Yangon, Myanmar

Illuminated golden Buddhist Temple inside the famous buddhist Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon at Sunset. Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar, Southeast Asia

[postcardsfromwanderings]

Golden Buddhas, Bai Dinh Pagoda complex, Ninh Binh, Vietnam

[lovingtravelnet]

Discovering Myanmar: A Journey Through the Land of Golden Pagodas

Myanmar, often referred to as Burma, is a country steeped in history, culture, and natural beauty. With its rich tapestry of traditions and an array of stunning landscapes, the nation has often been overlooked in favour of its more popular neighbours in Southeast Asia. However, for those seeking an authentic travel experience, Myanmar is a gem waiting to be discovered. One of its defining…

[travelnew]

In search of the comet...

[bitshoarder]

So, there *are* a nine-headed hydra in the book

[speed-world]

Hello, im a fan of the self aware scenario you did with the coward y/n cookie, and I was wondering what their reactions would be of meeting the beast cookies

To be honest, you had no interest in going to Beast-Yeast, at all. After all, why would you? Whatever conflict the Ancients and other cookies had with each other didn’t concern you, not to mention that just the name - “Beast-Yeast” - already freaked you out.

If it weren’t for Pure Vanilla Cookie promising that your safety, due to the agreement between the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie, you would’ve stayed comfortably in the Cookie Kingdom far away from the other continent.

You wish you never listened to Pure Vanilla now, because this beast - Shadow Milk Cookie - immediately wanted to make you run far, far away.

The jester scared you with his sinister and maniacal behavior. If you had a fear of clowns before entering the cookie world, then you’d pass out the more his actions continued.

After seeing the mental turmoil Pure Vanilla was experiencing, the loss of Elder Faerie Cookie, Shadow Milk’s terrifying powers and his “plays” that were mockeries of all the adversaries of the Beasts—the color blue might be your most hated now.

Yeah, you’d be completely fine and dandy if you never saw a hint of Shadow Milk’s Cookie ever again

However, he couldn’t stand to think of this meeting being your last…

How were you convinced to go back to Beast-Yeast a second time?? Suppose you can be grateful for that promise with the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie.

You actually really liked the Ivory Pagoda. The atmosphere was so serene and otherworldly, and warmly inviting…or dangerously alluring.

The company of Dark Cacao Cookie, Caramel Arrow Cookie, Crunchy Chip Cookie, and the Cacao warriors made this trip a whole lot more comfortable and relaxing. However, their presence couldn’t make things better when you finally came face to face with the other Beast - Mystic Flour Cookie.

You thought the slow creepiness of Cloud Haetae Cookie would be the worst of your problems, but at least the story they told was directed to the Ancient instead of you.

The second you saw that spider pop out of that cocoon, your soul ascended to the crossroads. Your body went so pale that Dark Cacao thought you succumbed to the pale ailment.

You really couldn’t articulate how much Mystic Flour scared you. Shadow Milk was insane, but this?! She’s so uncaring, so unrelenting in her belief of apathy, is it too late to stay with Peach Blossom Cookie for the rest of this journey?

Let’s not even get started on that face. You hated any related horror stuff in the real world, and now you’re seeing that in front of your face!!

Yeah no, forget this. Awesome job on Dark Cacao awakening, time to get on the first airship outta this place.

As much as you wanted to be as far away from Mystic Flour Cookie as possible, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Stared at by a force that you couldn’t look back at, no matter how hard you tried….

Hell. To the freaking. NO

Naaaaaah Golden Cheese Cookie, she’s crazy if she thinks you’re going to accompany her to Beast-Yeast. Promise be damned, they clearly didn’t account for the mental pain that you’ve suffered through.

Smoked Cheese Cookie seemed dead serious on agreeing with you, but Golden Cheese wouldn’t take no for an answer. You decided to stick close to Smoked Cheese, because the Beast is only focused on Golden Cheese after all, right?

Had it not been for the presence of Golden Cheese and Smoked Cheese, you wouldn’t have even thought of coming to this place. It’s hotter than a truck engine in the summer, a lot of these Spice cookies are pretty hostile, and—Oh God the sandstorms are the crumbs of dead cookies?!?????!

And then, you met him-Burning Spice Cookie. He’s already scary to look at, so you just hid your face whenever you saw or heard him.

His power is also way too scary-he doesn’t care about any collateral damage caused, heck he probably loves if there’s more of it! Smoked Cheese spent his time making sure that not even a crumb of you were harmed during the fight of Golden Cheese and Burning Spice.

You weren’t sure what freaked you out more: Nutmeg Tiger Cookie’s unwavering devotion to such a being like Burning Spice, or the fact that Burning Spice Cookie does all that he does…for entertainment.

All the death, destruction, suffering he causes, everything, all for a cheap laugh?! Why-why again did you ever come here?!?

To make matters worse? Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese were locked away in a cage. But you? No, Burning Spice didn’t want you in confinement.

He found it much more amusing to have you by his side, attached to his hip and sitting on his lap.

Your soul departs each time he speaks, your breath is taken away when he breaks something, because you’re scared that it might be you he breaks next. Seeing him be so casual and collected after crushing Cilantro Cobra Cookie in front of your face was what set you over the edge.

You were panicking, screaming, tossing around. You wanted to leave now, no ifs, ands, or buts. You can’t take this anymore and-…

He-he’s staring at you….he’s in the middle of his second round fight with Golden Cheese Cookie, and he’s staring. Right. At. You.

You were eternally grateful for Smoked Cheese Cookie being so understanding, and being so quick in trying to get you out of this God forsaken continent.

But even as you were getting away, you heard his laugh. You know Golden Cheese struck him down, but you heard his faint sinister laugh; virtually paralyzing you in place.

Please, for your sake, can you never come back to Beast-Yeast ever again?!?

…

…

Where did this ticket come from?

[rootbasespine]

Sunset at Kyaiktiyo Rock Pagoda, southern Myanmar

[isy-clicks]

[angstandhappiness]

INTERESTING

nezha 🤝 getting disciplined with great violence for misbehavior 🤝 wukong

[killa-cookie]

how wwould the beast cookies react to gluttony reader wanting to eat them simply out of adoration but doesn't want to kill them so they resort to things like biting or sucking

I'll be calling this one a lovesick gluttony

A bit suggestive in a way..?

Oh how you ADORED (beast)

You just wanted to worship them, embrace them, maybe even try a little bit of them.. Would they be sweet? Spicy? Sour? Oh how you wanted to find out

REACTIONS

-

MYSTIC FLOUR

Oh my, when you were Temperance she knew you had at least some feelings for her... But now you have no self control, so you're just now ranting to her about how much she was so dear to you... She's enjoying the attention though. She finds it a bit endearing that the light of gluttony would hold back just for her.

If you bite her playfully, she'll let you be (as long as you don't actually bite her, but if you do she'd heal herself and probably send you somewhere you can eat as much as you want)

Don't. Lick . Her. She tastes bland anyway.

- you two were just chilling in the ivory pagoda, her listening to your rants as always. Your rants were rather interesting, they would always change topics at random times.

As she was peacefully meditating while you were talking to her, suddenly she just felt some sharp teeth digging slightly into her arm. She looks down to see your not so innocent face just nomming on her.

"...What is it are you doing dear?

-

BURNING SPICE

Holy shiagut he is SPICYY AFFFF

He's flattered, you ease his boredom whenever you try and bite him... (Definitely when you lick him augrhrhiej) he also laughs when you pull back from how spicy he is.

To be honest, he finds it cute that you bite him out of adoration. Although he knows that you can't handle his damn spiciness, he still kinda wants you to bite him more (think of this in the way you want to, or not.)

I'd advise you not to lick him, If you do the spiciness gets to you even more.

- you two were resting on a couch he had in his temple, he was ranting about the chaos and destruction he had caused. And slandering golden cheese cookie.

You were listening intently to every word he had been saying, not a single letter forgotten. You had thoughts racing in your mind, what would my dear taste like?

As he was ranting, he paused as he felt a mouth running along his arm. You were just kinda trying to get a taste of him. And shit he was spicy

" what darlin'? Too hot for ya?"

-

SHADOW MILK

Since canonically, gluttony still hates the shit outta this man... They would try to eat him out of anger, and spite.

But his lovesick fantasies THINK you're doing it out of adoration. But even though he thinks that he is not letting you near him. He's seen what you've done to other cookies. You would be trying to eat his legs and he'd be like -owhh you love me smile you wanna eat off my legs-

- you hated him so damn much, you don't remember why, but you just hate the hell outta this guy.

You were visiting the spire of deceit, just needing to give some things to him. And maybe try to eat some bits of him, does his hat taste good? Probably not

He sees you and immediately rushes to you. He's saying hi and all those cutesy shit, it was annoying you. Especially those dang nicknames of his.

You charge forward and try to bite his head off, but he quickly retreats back.

"Awhhh, do you adore me so much you wanna get a taste of me? Nom-nom nemesis over here showing their love in such bizarre ways!"

(Bizarre?.... ( jotaro menacing menacing(

[frenchcurious]

Mercedes-Benz 280 SL Pagoda 1968. - source Cars & Motorbikes Stars of the Golden era.

[itsabouttimex2]

Can we get an eclipse King's continuation does y/n wake up?

Eclipse Kings

Part Two: Barbed Dusk

(Part One: Mountain Monkeys) (Part Two: You Are Here) (Part Three: Wild Dawn)

(Extra One)

(You are a ragged little thing, unfit for luxury or lavishness. “Thankfully”, Macaque sees to curating your hygiene.)

They are covered in scars.

The Six-Eared Macaque; golden eyes dimmed in frustration and impatience, is now bereft of his crown. It had borne him a striking silhouette, each wicked spike on the circlet fashioned from gold.

You could not have known it yourself, and the shadowy king would never admit it to one whom he deigned a necessary pest as most, but… he had commissioned it only a week after losing his beloved Xiaotian.

With tear-stained cheeks and gouges torn into his fur from constant scraping, the simian had wobbled down from the mountain and into the nearest smithy, then threw down a glittering heap of golden coins. His only request had been; spoken brokenly, for “something that would hurt”.

The blacksmith had been hesitant at first. The request was unusual—not for the opulence offered, for he had forged again and again petty trinkets to sooth a lord’s ego. No, it was the pain. The simian’s trembling voice and sunken eyes spoke of a sorrow too vast to comprehend, but the blacksmith had seen enough grief bite down any questions. Instead, he had worked through the night, the rhythm of hammer on gold ringing out in the silence, a somber requiem for the monkey’s fresh loss.

So the blacksmith had fashioned him a twisted crown from that heap of treasure, taking what little was left as payment after beating the metal into a branching circlet that splintered out into harsh thorns, then plated it with rhodium to darken and reinforce the malleable gold underneath.

“It’ll hurt,” the man had reminded him, touching the crown only with his thickest gloves.

The look in Macaque’s eyes had told him enough- “I want it to,” spoken through his hollow eyes and gaunt frame and torn fur, but left unsaid on trembling lips.

And Macaque had taken it with his bare hands, punishing his treacherous fingers for “allowing” his son to slip through them.

He had not allowed his agony to end there.

The sharp tips bit into his scalp, drawing thin rivulets of crimson that trailed through inky fur, leaving raw furrows through its heartless embrace. He hadn’t winced or cried or paused, instead pressing it down further and further, lips curling into a grimace that might have once been a smile, his heart brittle and sharp like fractured glass.

It would hurt, but never as much as losing his son.

An unassailable grief, incapable of transmutation into vengeance or betterment.

Until you.

Until you had wandered into their stately pagoda, wandering through the lavish halls and snatching their food, leaving the trail of an all too familiar scent in your wake.

Until you had ran from them in fright as so many had years ago, twisting through woods just as jagged and thorned as the crown that Macaque had finally pried from his forehead, smashed and discarded at the empty grave they had fashioned for their found son.

You had led them back to him.

That thought alone keeps Macaque’s hands gentle as he lathers a thick sponge with fragrant soap, wetting it and rolling the squashy corpse* against your forearms.

His mate, holding his own sponge, tends to your legs with a manic smile- it hasn’t dropped even after a full night of sloppy celebration and utter destruction. Every last little memorial and shrine they had created now lay in pieces around the pagoda, only sparing what little the prince himself would have use for- the clothes and toys they had left on these altars as gifts that would have been now resided in the boy’s room-

“It’s Y/N’s room, too,” the little one had insisted, forcing them to make arrangements appropriate for both a demon toddler and a mortal… whatever age you were. Folding screens and an extra mat.. but nothing else. Not from malice, though- they simply hadn’t quite learned what else to put in “your” room.

There was no need to separate what was his from what was yours- you simply didn’t have anything at all. Every little luxury you had accumulated in that muddy rattrap was all for your brother.

The boy’s bed, piled high with plush animals and soft quilts, had been eagerly pushed closer to yours, left with “only” a few pillows and a single blanket as he excitedly prepared to sleep in warmth and safety for the first time in years.

(Only was not a word you knew. There was no “only” in the life of one who owned nothing.)

“You had enough of a nap on the way here,” Sun Wukong sighs. “So stay awake a little longer. We can’t let you go to bed filthy or injured.”

You want to protest. To scream and cry and plead for them to take their hands off of you, to let you return to that familiar; if squalid, hovel, to let you- and your brother- go back to the only home either of you had ever known.

But words die on your chapped lips, too exhausted to be parted for begging.

You just lay there in the tub, head held aloft by one of Wukong’s muscled hands, completely incapable of moving or protesting. You just… sit there, and accept the reluctant doting.

MK (“Qi Xiaotian”), the kings and all their soldiers and maids say. You don’t think there’ll ever be a moment that you’re used to that. ) sits next to the tub with worry in his little black eyes, trying his hardest to focus on the book he was gifted by his fathers- hand-drawn pictures of him decorate each page, detailing his growth from baby to toddler. Supposedly it would “stir his memory”, but the effort seemed futile- he had simply been too young to remember anything before you.

Neither of you were truly “home” in this pagoda, no matter how they tried to push you into believing that.

MK would adjust, definitely. He would come to enjoy plush toys and doting maids and loving fathers, ample food and warm water. He could grow to love silk pillowcases and wool blankets. He could grow to love warm halls and loving fathers.

He hadn’t lived like you had. No, MK had spent his time safely inside that wretched dump, playing with whatever toys you could scrounge for him, chasing little bugs and cooing at the occasional rabbit or squirrel that came in for shelter.

This was going to be harder for you.

The warmth of the water feels unfamiliar, outright alien in its softness . You are too used to icy streams that prick at your skin, the dry rasp of dirt and grime. Here, the milky water cradles you like a cloud.

Help.

You are being helped .

And you know what that means. Help comes at a cost. A leering smile from a vendor who would try and tail you through the woods. A begrudging shove of stale bread into your hands after a trade. Mumbled curses about a “pest” under the breath of a housewife giving you a chunk of too-ripe fruit.

What price will this cost?

The thought churns uneasily in your gut as Sun Wukong tilts your head upward, his golden eyes studying your face. They gleam like the sun, but there is no warmth for you.

(Not yet.)

They’re calculating, cataloging each bruise, each scrape. Every pale white line scarred deep and unremovable. The truth of agony is plain on your skin, a map of suffering written in purples, blues, and scabbed reds.

It does not miss him that his son is, in turn, totally unblemished.

Admiration without love. Gratitude without familiarity. Respect without want.

You have done him a greater favor than any other being could provide- you are owed praise and repayment, that much the vaunted kings know.

You are deliverance from grief and agony and a haunting eternity of wondering “what could I have done to save him?”.

But you are not his child.

The golden king’s hands are steady as he finishes rinsing the soap from your hair, the last traces of filth swirling down into the bathwater, which drains into a little bamboo pipe leading outside.

One of them, you don’t care to see which, wraps a towel around you. It smells faintly of mint and ginseng- things the rich put in their soaps and lotions.

The silence stretches, broken only by the soft lapping of water and the occasional creak of the tub as one of them shifts. You think you should feel safer in this moment, surrounded by warmth and covered neck to ankle, but the unease still roils in your stomach, a highly coiled spring just waiting to snap.

The unease is not lost on MK, who cuts through it like hot butter.

Y/N!” He cheerily calls, catching your attention. You turn your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. He’s holding the book up for you to see, a wide, gap-toothed grin plastered across his face. “Look! This is me! When I was a baby!”

The drawing he points to looks almost too real, imperceptible from reality aside from the lightly yellowed edges. An infant demon with wide, curious eyes, bundled in blankets, his tail peeking from the swaddle You glance at the page, then back to MK, who looks at you expectantly.

You don’t know what he wants you to say.

You don’t even want to speak.

But you manage a “It’s cute,” voice cracking from disuse. It’s the first thing you’ve said since they brought you here, and it feels strange. “ Very cute, kiddo.”

The silence grows tenser for your words, winding further through the room and forcing it into unease. And, like before, MK keeps going in spite of it.

“You’re gonna get sick if you don’t wear something warm,” MK fussed, tugging on the towel with one little paw. “You need to put some clothes on! And you need something to drink!”

“Your Baba can get them something to wear,” Wukong coos, tapping one clawed finger against his son’s rosy snout. “The maids sewed up some nice clothes for the two of you.”

“Moonlight, if you’ll get the paste, I’ll run and grab what they made.”

Macaque nods and releases you to sit alone on the floor, turning to scrounge through his lavish cabinets, each one stocked with a costly product that you couldn’t put a name to, paired to a price that would make your eyes water if you heard it spoke aloud.

You sit motionless on the tiles, towel wrapped tightly around your bruised shoulders. The plush fabric is too heavy, too soft. It’s not comforting—it’s suffocating. Every nerve in your body screams at you to run , but… to where? To what ? There’s no dirty stream to lose your scent in, no puddle of mud to smear yourself with for camouflage. There is no place left but here .

As you think on escapes, Macaque’s shadow coils- like a wispy vein of smoke- along the floor, and for a moment, you swear it’s alive, flickering toward you like a snake.

But you blink and then it is still, unshifting and steady.

You don’t imagine things often. You can’t bring yourself to think that this was one of those rare circumstances.

…he’s even more dangerous than you had believed, and with that dawning revelation a little spark of hope is squashed in your chest.

The sable king turns to you with two glads jars, both smelling of fresh herbs even through their seals. One he sets on the wooden rim of the bathtub, and the other he brings to you- the contents glow from within, faintly white and luminescent, as though moonlight itself had been processed and bottled.

“This is going to sting,” the king warns, dipping his claws into the glittering paste to scrape out a generous, gelatinous lump. “But it’ll keep you from getting infections.”

Everything hurts, and you are tired. So, so very tired that your eyes smear the colors of the world all around, incapable of perceiving fine details. All the embroidery of Macaque’s kingly robe, purple and black and silver, blend into a dark blob as he approaches, as he kneels, peels away the top of the robe, and begins to smear the paste across your upper body.

The searing sting is immediate , sharp enough to make you gasp, breath catching in your throat. It feels like fire crawling across your skin, burning out the grime and decay that had wormed under your flesh. It hurts, worse than icy waters soaking your feet in winter, worse than all the hounds that bit at your heels as you leapt fences, worse than all the beatings you had taken when your thieving was thwarted.

Throughout all your life, only one thing has brought worse pains- hunger. But even that feels like a distant memory now, boiled away by the sensation of prickling, running through your skin in a steady march.

Macaque pulls away with a little huff, shrugging his shoulders as you twitch and writhe in place.

“Be grateful. That stuff costs an eye and a half.”

It’s strikingly casual for a demon of his status, speaking almost like a…

Maybe he had spoken like this to MK once.

Maybe he was settling back into it, with his son back, and simply didn’t think to harshen his tone with you, given his preoccupation with unscrewing the second jar.

“This is something we’ve been trying to spread in that mortal village of yours- a paste blend to scrub teeth with. Mint, ginseng, and some rock salt…”

“…why, um. Why is it… why just for mortals and not demons, too?”

“Yaoguai grow their teeth back once they’re damaged- doesn’t matter if they rot out or get snapped. A new one grows in after the old. Mortals need to take care of what they’ve got. So one of our, ugh “Sworn Brothers”- with a real soft spot for squishy little mortals - worked to make this stuff with another of our “brothers”. He even gave us a crate for our own citizens.”

“…he seems nice,” you remark, thinking on the existence such a benevolent immortal. “I hear most demons just eat mortals.”

“Most yaoguai do,” he snaps, eye twitching at the term you used. “And those yaoguai have tried to break into our village before, and my mate has always protected all of you, even before I came in and married him. Now we protect all of you from yaoguai together.”

(…if he weren’t twice your size and equipped with claws and fanged canines, you might’ve seen fit to call him something mean.)

“Now, open your mouth.”

“…excuse me?”

“It’s an herbal paste. For your mouth. You wet it with clean water and scrub it over your teeth- it scrapes out filth, and there’s not much else you brought with you into our pagoda.”

“Hmm, almost like I didn’t bring shit because-“

Snapping through the air like a whip, he interjects with a snarled- “Language .”

Macaque’s eyes are narrow, golden irises flickering with a dangerous edge that makes your stomach churn. He leans closer, looming over you, and you’re suddenly reminded - and quite vividly- of the disparity in your sizes, in your positions. His shadow shifts, darker, heavier, wrapping around your silhouette in a way that feels utterly suffocating .

Your mouth clamps shut instinctively, a primal reaction to the unspoken threat. A dozen instincts claw at you: run, fight, scream—but there’s nowhere to run, no fight you can win, nothing. So, you simply sit there, jaw tight, avoiding his gaze, your whole body trembling like a leaf in a storm.

The shadow king exhales sharply through his nose and leans back, his oppressive presence retreating as he composes himself. When he speaks again, his tone is quieter, though still sharp enough to make you flinch.

“You’ve had it rough,” he says, somewhat reluctantly. “I get it. But you’re under our roof now. Which means you obey our rules. Watch your tongue, brat.”

Submission is a bitter taste you’ve rarely sampled- rare is it that you lie down and grudgingly accept a losing lot. But there is no choice now- he is stronger, faster, smarter. You have lost without even making a move.

“You haven’t been here a day, and you’re already biting a hand that hasn’t had time to feed you.”

“I didn’t ask to be here”, is what you want to say, to scream about the unfairness of being ripped away from a home that you were at least familiar with… but you’ve been cowed, and thus, simply open your mouth.

Reluctantly, you open your mouth.

“Good,” he says, his tone softer now, though still carrying that edge of command. He dips a soft-bristled tool you hadn’t noticed before into the herbal paste and scrapes up a small amount, before lightly dipping it into a small jar of water, then maneuvers that unfamiliar tool into your mouth with some small measure of gentleness.

The first bristles touch your teeth, and the sensation is strange. Foreign. Not painful, exactly, but intrusive. You flinch, more out of instinct than anything else, and Macaque pauses, his eyes narrowing just slightly.

“It won’t hurt. Or taste bad. Azure made sure none of this would be unpleasant for a mortal.”

You try to nod, though it’s awkward with the tool in your mouth. Macaque takes it as a cue to continue, brushing your teeth with a deliberate circular rhythm. long. But, true to his word, the paste doesn’t sting or leave an acrid aftertaste- instead, it’s cool and herbal, with a faint sweetness from the mint. The bristles tickle more than anything, and after a moment, your teeth start to feel… bare.

Stripped of grit and mud. Of moldy leftovers and bits of sand.

The grime that’s been built up after years of poor living is stripped like bark is peeled from a tree, in that all that is left under the coating is a smooth, soft white. The sensation is uncomfortable in its newness, leaving your mouth feeling raw and exposed. Your tongue darts along the surface of your teeth, licking again and again at the lack of filth.

“There,” Macaque huffs, pulling back as he dips the brush into a bowl of water to rinse it clean. “Clean enough that you don’t have an excuse for getting sick.”

You swallow thickly, avoiding his gaze. You don’t feel like thanking him. Not after everything.

Instead, you glance toward MK, who’s still engrossed in his book. He’s watching you through the corner of his eye, waiting for some kind of signal. You don’t know what he expects from you—a smile? A reassurance?

It seems like you’re as much a stranger to him as he is to you, despite your efforts to keep him safe all these years.

A demon prince hailing from the kings of Flower Fruit Mountain, heir to the throne.

To you, he had only ever been a sweet little brother.

Did you realty know him at all?

The thought alone is too much.

The warmth of the bath, the suffocatingly tight towel, the newness of your teeth, the watchful eyes of a being so much stronger than you. It’s all too much. You sit down and draw your knees up to your chest, clutching the towel tightly, a silent plea for space that you will not receive.

The tension in the air again grows palpable, but before it can thicken further, the golden king reappears, his arrival announced by the clink of glittering beads against tile. Sun Wukong strides in with a bundle of neatly folded clothes in hand, his gaze flicking between you and Macaque.

“I can take over from here, moonlight.”

[burningcheese-merchant]

Yes,more please!

More Yandere Beast stuff? At your service, three short headcanons for each one

SHADOW MILK

Has one specific Pure Vanilla puppet that he treasures and never brings any harm to. It's the most well-crafted and detailed one of all. He calls it his Mini Silly-Vanilly and he makes it and the puppet he also made of himself kiss and do NSFW things

Tries to be A Bro™️ and help his fellow yanderes win over their respective loves. He eggs them on when they feel like ranting and raving about their love lives (or maybe he just likes gossip and drama idk), helps mastermind courting plans, gives romantic advice of dubious quality, solicited and not (mostly not). His help gets mixed reactions. Tough crowd :/

Already planned their wedding way in advance, but keeps making changes because he's always hit with new inspiration (making them playfully chase each other all the way up the stairs of the Spire of Truth and Deceit, and publicly executing their enemies in increasingly ridiculous ways are staying put, though)

ETERNAL SUGAR

Got Shadow Milk to make her a Hollyberry body pillow. It's nice, but she ended up tired of it really quickly. She wants the real Hollyberry to snuggle and squeeze and use as a pillow. (She still uses the body pillow though)

Would very much like to steal Holly's dresses and wear them herself, even if they might not fit. Would also like a lock or two of her hair to put in a necklace, or make into a bracelet, or weave into the strings of her harp (wtf lol)

Has mastered dozens of love songs on her harp, both written and composed by others and by she herself, all to be played and sung to Holly. A significant portion of them are very dark and unsettling, but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care

MYSTIC FLOUR

Once thought of the concept of playing "strip Go" (like strip poker, just with Go) with Dark Cacao. No one has ever seen her turn so red before. She immediately barricaded herself in her room and did not come out for almost a whole week

Keeps replaying that moment where he was beaten and on his knees and she was caressing his cheek, tempting him to look up and into her eyes, in her mind over and over and over and over and over and over again. It has practically tattooed itself to the insides of her eyelids. She can't make it stop nor does she want to

Ends up wandering along the exact same path through the mountains that Cacao took while he was lost and alone whenever she leaves the Ivory Pagoda. Some deranged part of her insists that she might find him again if she keeps looking, and the other, equally deranged parts of her seem to agree...

BURNING SPICE

Absolutely fucking loses his shit if and when any of the Wild Spices speak ill of Golden Cheese at all. He can roast her all he wants, but the second anyone else tries, he 180s to "KEEP MY WIFE'S NAME OUT YO FUCKIN MOUTH" mode

Is so out of his goddamn mind that he's already attuned himself to both Golden's aura and her scent, so he can literally track her and hunt her down like a ravenous animal no matter where she goes. He is a predator in the truest sense of the word

Also often fantasizes about marrying Golden, like how Milk wants to marry Vanilla. But what he thinks the most about is the wedding night... and the night after that, too. And the night after that. Every night is going to be their wedding night, once he gets his hands on her... Every single fucking night

SILENT SALT

Keeps trying to write White Lily letters and poems detailing his feelings. They keep coming out wrong (aka they are extremely long and rambling, not to mention fucking weird and creepy), so he keeps throwing them away and starting over repeatedly

Has considered learning magic to impress Lily, but can't get the hang of it. (Has also tried to brew a love potion for her, but can't get the hang of that, either)

He never takes that helmet off, but his stare is nevertheless so damn pointed and downright oppressive that Lily can sense whenever he's watching her, even if he's dozens of feet away and she can't even spot where he is. He comes out when she asks him to, at least...

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

https://www.tumblr.com/lavender-butterfly-cookie/767407222529671168/shadow-of-wrath-beast-yn-cookie?source=share

Had an idea based off this...imagine if, instead, y/n blamed themselves for not being able to save the beasts and basically became a shell of their former self...depressed, staying at home, just laying around, crying, self isolating and stuff...and the moment the beasts pull up and blame y/n, they quickly discovered they just made it 50x worse so they gotta calm y/n down and drag em out of their depression...and to get back the y/n they once knew and loved.

Bonus: also it becomes a journey of self discovery for the beasts too as they slowly try to build their poly back up and adapt to their new selves as they try to get y/n over the traumatic experience of being forced to banish them...and the beasts showing y/n...it's not their fault.

Finally quitting the blame game

Y/N cookie, despite knowing it was for the greater good, still hadn't forgiven themselves for having their friends sealed away. They could've done more, in their perspective, to find a better solution. They still have dreams of how that day could've gone. Although they can't see how they'd do it, they could see a better result. A result that they failed to achieve. And it was all their fault.

What made it worse was when they came face to face with the beasts once again. They could see and feel the anger and hurt of their fallen allies and the fact that they too blamed Y/N cookie for this was enough to push them over the edge. In the heat of the moment, they fell to their knees, repeating how it was their fault. This was unexpected, to put it in simpler terms. The beasts didn't realized their words would have this effect, but they knew they didn't like it.

In reality, they knew it was their own fault for what happened, even if they'd never admit it aloud. But the fact that Y/N cookie was taking all the blame. The scene caused the beasts to feel something they hadn't felt in a long time. Guilt. With that said, they wanted to reassure them that it wasn't their fault. Even if they were still bitter about the betrayal, they didn't want to hurt Y/N cookie.

Bear in mind, when a cookie has fallen into a deep stage of depression and believe their at fault for everything, it's hard to convince them otherwise. Especially when they had lived with that mind set for centuries. All the beasts had trouble comforting and reassuring Y/N cookie. Sometimes it felt like they were talking to a wall.

Shadow Milk cookie tried explaining why it wasn't your fault. He'd sit on the edge of your bed whilst you lay there crying and hugging the pillow to your chest. He'd make little puppet shows emphasizing that you weren't to blame for what happened. You convinced yourself that he was deceiving you, that he didn't mean any of it and that he was just playing tricks on your heart. But he swears of his life he's telling you the truth. He's a liar, yes, but do you really believe he'd lie to you of all cookies?

Mystic Flour cookie also offered a lot of therapeutic assistance when she took you to the ivory pagoda. She talks about how she and the other beasts views had changed overtime and that although they were still upset you had them sealed away, they knew you were only trying to do the right thing. Even if she doesn't see what the right thing to you is. Cloud hatae and Peach Blossom cookie also helped in calming you down when you seem to overwhelm yourself by blaming yourself. If you had been any other cookie, she'd be so apathetic and simply solve the issue by turning you to flour. But she'd never. Not to you.

Saying that comforting others was not Burning Spice cookies cup of tea was an understatement. Can't you just get it together or something? Well apparently you can't. And the spice tribe leaders aren't exactly good at it either. With little to no options he turned to Golden Cheese cookie, who advised him to leave you in the care of the Kulfi monkeys. At least they'd have some kind of use now, he thought. Guess he was lucky he didn't go after them to crumble them. The kulfi's were all pretty good at providing comfort to you too, even giving you some lassi. When you witness destruction growing in your heart, the kulfi's will be there to make sure you don't fall apart.

Unlike the great destroyer, Comfort was Eternal Sugar cookie's middle name! She'd cuddle you, have servants serve you, shower you with love and attention, just be there for you. She wanted to make sure you knew that she didn't really blame you and that it truly wasn't your fault. What you did hurt, yes, but that was all in the past and you did it for the greater good. She'd give you all sorts of treats and gifts. She was like Golden Cheese cookie, but pink and fluffy. And when all was quiet in the night she'd take you for a flight around, hoping the cold air and quiet atmosphere would provide a sense of security. She may be a sloth at times, but for you she's putting in the effort.

Silent Salt cookie had experienced a pretty hard time comforting you. Mainly because he couldn't use his words. Regardless of that, he found his ways. Sometimes you can find the most peace in the silence after all. A good nighttime walk in the forest was nice, and so was star gazing. One thing he wasn't gonna allow was you trying to crumble yourself from the depression. He's stopped you a couple of times.

The beasts want to help you. but there's one thing that they know would help you that they refuse to do. They need to apologize. And frankly, none of them are quite ready for that just yet.

[aroacenezhaanddainsleif]

"demon child"

i think lmk li jing should have been worse :)

"Father-" Nezha's mech takes a step forward, metal clanging against the asphalt.

Li Jing swirls around, glaring with a gaze filled with both anger and fear. "SILENCE!" He snarls, lifting the pagoda in one bracelet-clad hand. "Do not make me subdue you once more, Nezha."

Nezha is no fool. He knows all of them can see him flinch, even through the layers of iron and steel. He knows all of them can see the spear waver in his mech's fingers, foot shifting backward out of defense.

Ever the savior, Wukong steps forward to his defense, brown-orange fur bristling. "Hey, what the fuck, Li?" He snarls, tail swishing in agitation. "Us I get, but your own son?"

Nezha's father raises his pagoda, glare tightening the wrinkles around his eyes. "You have no right to judge me, simian. Or shall I remind you-" the seal upon the circlet reactivates, and Nezha can only watch in horror as Wukong cries out in pain, dropping to his knees. The rest of his friends- can Nezha even call them his friends, with how little he knows of them?- try to resist the tug of the pagoda's magic, but their feet start to slip.

He doesn't want to go back to that lotus-painted door again. He doesn't want to be crushed and confined under a heavy floor again. He doesn't want his tongue silenced and his actions subdued again. He doesn't want to be trapped ever again.

...But isn't he now?

Trapped in compliance, frozen in time as he watches them lose this fight?

Nezha is no fool.

He knows he is a hound that has been muzzled and chained- he knew that when they took away his strongest weapons and raised a pagoda at him for harboring the slightest thoughts of disobedience. He has always known.

But for the sake of the trust MK talked of, for the sake of what Nezha once stood for- a two-handed spear breaks through the pagoda's cyclone, severing the magic. Nezha can only watch as the dragon girl yells for Mr. Tang, everyone staring at him with confusion and pity as a golden glow takes them far away.

He knows his punishment. He knows why the pagoda was created.

He leaves his mech, bowing his head before his father as he awaits what is due.

"...Return to the Celestial Realm."

He is given a mercy. An unexpected one, at that, but one that makes his bowed head sigh toward the asphalt with relief. As of now, his use outweighs his disobedience.

He watches his father take off toward the horizon, mumbling an apology as he disappears from the festively lit alleyway in a swirl of lotus petals. He knows what it's like to be a chaos child, destined for destruction- he can only hope MK will have a happier tale than he did.

"...So hey, are we just going to gloss over what the fuck just happened with Nezha??" Mei asks once she's back on her feet within the mountain cavern, gesturing wildly at Wukong to explain.

"He-" Wukong starts, then stops, scratching his arm. "His dad... I knew something about it, but I always thought people were exaggerating. Cause c'mon, Nezhy? I know he's got a temper, but that-"

"Monkey King, WHAT are you talking about?" MK scratches his head, leaning on Mei with a similarly confused expression.

Wukong hesitates, pacing against the stone ground of the temple, then sighs. He opens his mouth-

And is beat to it.

"That pagoda was created to subdue Nezha." Tang interrupts. He pushes his glasses farther up his nose, focusing his gaze on crumbling towers high above. "...I remember the story now."

When he's finished regaling the tale in a quiet tone, the Monkie Gang has reeled through a rollercoaster of emotions- anger, disgust, pity, sympathy, and rage. Pigsy rolls up his sleeves, marching out towards the nearest wall with a loud "I'm gonna go back and give that fuckin' 'father' of his a piece of my goddamn mind-"

Sandy lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, steering the chef back. "Pigsy. Not right now." He says, although nobody misses the clenched fist of his other hand.

Wukong sighs. "...I always thought people were playing it up, but... I guess not." He closes his eyes, trying to reign in the feeling of guilt bubbling up inside him. To think he bullied Nezha for it, not understanding just how conflicted he must have been... Most definitely not for the first time in Wukong's life, he feels like an idiot who failed a friend. But there's nothing he can do about it now- so he rolls his shoulders back, settling his bristling fur as he waves everyone towards the stone passageway. "Welp! Traumatic backstories aside, time to get the world-saving-adventure underway, everyone!"

As for Nezha... They'll all just have to hope he's alright.