#he is the shadow puppet in the sense that he is the one who holds a knife to your throat the moment you lay in your bed after conspiring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cursingtoji · 1 year

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Hii! For the 3k event (congrats btw!! 🥳) can i request Toji with prompt 3 and 15? I guess it would be reader getting drunk and confessing because Toji doesn't get drunk. Thank you so much! ❤️

𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 + 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ┊ realizing you want more than you should have with the sorcerer killer ┊ The Clichés ™

note: Thank you for joining Kay <3 I was so excited for a Toji request hehe this turned out a bit angsty but oh well guess i just have too many emotions for him

Tonight you and your fellow sorcerers are celebrating, you aren’t sure what since you just arrived from a week long mission but you accepted the invitation and met them at an izakaya for drinks and food.

Alcohol kept coming and since you were sharing the bill you keep drinking too until everyone decided it was enough, but as soon as everyone was drunk enough to drop formalities and talk about their personal life you began to plot an excuse to go home.

Apparently Utahime got engaged over the weekend and she was super excited about the wedding, she asked everyone if they would bring a plus one and who they were.

“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” you knew this moment was coming but your drunk brain couldn’t think fast enough.

“Well… it’s complicated, but don’t worry about me, I’ll bring one of Yaga’s puppets as my date” you successfully dodged the question and made everyone laugh.

The bill came when the place was about to close, when it was time to get up you realized you might have had too many drinks.

“Bye bye, take care” you said your goodbyes to each other and took your path back home, which gladly was not too far.

“Hey sexy lady, need some company?” after a few minutes you heard a man but when you turned around there was no one there. You tried to raise your senses in order to feel the cursed energy around you but there wasn’t any. Maybe it was a car or bike that passed by you?

“Pathetic” you murmured to yourself.

The second you resumed your path and walked past an alley you got pulled, your instincts made you raise your elbow to hit the aggressor on the face but he stopped it with his hand, a very familiar hand.

“God, Toji, what the fuuuck, you almost gave me a heart attack” you whispered drunkly and allowed your body to relax.

Toji chuckled with his face on your neck, his warm breath giving you goosebumps. The hand on your elbow moved all the way down your arm to hold your hand and he gave it a soft kiss.

“Couldn’t resist” he kissed it again, you dropped your head backwards meeting his strong chest. The alley was dark but you could still see his handsome features shadowed by the yellow street lamp “You’re drunk as a skunk, sweetheart, I can’t believe your friends let you go home by yourself like that. What a bunch of hypocrites” he squeezed your waist with his other hand and you felt his lips on your ear, “Should I kill them all?” your eyes widened and your head turned to meet his dangerous green eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, they don’t have any obligation with me. I’m an inden— inpe— independent woman.”

“I can see how you were independently about to crash onto the pavement, why did’ya drink so much?” he sounded concerned, you couldn’t face him when he got serious like that.

In fact you started to chug more after Utahime began babbling about her fiancé, you wanted to talk about Toji like that, but you had two huge problems.

The first one was the man himself.

You couldn’t just drop in a conversation among sorcerers you were in relationship with the infamous sorcerer killer.

Besides, there was no relationship.

You and Toji met during a mission months ago, you had the same goal and would be easy to partner up, but no one could know you made a deal with him, you made that extremely clear, that’s the kind of thing that would destroy your career, that if not get you a death sentence.

And you still ended up in bed with him that same night and many others ever since.

Toji often showed up unannounced at your place in the middle of the night and was gone by the morning, sometimes there was no sex, he ate what was in your fridge and you two talked about whatever except the sorcerer world.

“Cat got your tongue?” he took your chin and moved your head to face him.

“Meow” you replied and began to laugh alone.

“Gosh, kid. Let’s take you home” with an arm around your waist he guided you.

“Home….” you laughed again.

“What? Don’t you wanna go home?”

“Yeah but—“ you hiccuped “the way you said it— sounded like you were saying it’s our home” Toji got quiet as he stopped by your door and his hand moved from your waist to your ass, “Toji~ not here…”

“Relax, you horny” he got the keys from your back pocket and opened the door.

You went straight to your couch and let your body fall on the soft cushions, realizing how everything seemed to be spinning.

“Here” he handed you a glass of water you haven’t even heard him getting, “Sit up” he ordered but you could only raise an arm for him to take and pull you up, “So what was that about?” he sat where you were previously laid at, so when you finished your cup of water you laid down again this time on his lap on top of a cushion he placed for your head.

“What was what about?” you looked up, his arms were spread on the back of the couch, from your angle he looked so big…

“The drinking, never seen you so off after going out.”

“You creep, do you always watch me when I’m out drinking?” you poked his abdomen but it was hard as a rock.

“Not always, I have stuff to do too” he poked your tummy back.

You allowed a few seconds of silent before admitting “Marriage.”

“What?”

“We were talking about marriage, some of them are married, one is getting married in the fall, she wanted to know if we would bring a plus one” you traced the pecks of his abdomen through his shirt, not wanting look at him.

“What did’ya tell her?” Toji sounded serious.

“I… I don’t remember” he snorted.

“Is that why you got so hammered?” he flicked your forehead and you made a whiny sound.

“No… the drinks were cheap, okay?” you raised a bit too fast and he raised with you to hold you from stumbling down.

You hated how much you loved being held by him. In order to shut the spiral of thoughts in your head you got on your tip toes and threw your arms around his massive shoulders kissing him, Toji leaned slightly to pick you up by your ass making you to envelop his waist with your legs.

“You taste like sake” you murmured.

“That’s you, dumbass” he bit your cheek and moved to your bedroom still holding you while you kissed his neck, “For someone that gets fucked every other night you are very horny.”

“It’s been 6… 6? 7! 7 days since I last saw you, so shut up” you watched as Toji pulled his shirt.

“Aw you were counting the days to see me? How cute” he undid the buttons of your jeans, pulling it down your legs then holding them again massaging your calves.

A comfortable silence settled on your bedroom, Toji hasn’t moved, he was indeed just massaging your legs sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Toji?” you called.

“Huh?”

“Is that a really long foreplay or you have no intention to take off my panties?” you moved your feet to his crotch, you could feel he was hard but he held your feet with a groan.

“I ain’t fucking you tonight.”

“What?” you sat on the bed pulling your legs to yourself, “Why not?” you whined like you were being denied your favourite food.

“Come on, sweetheart, we’ve been over this already.”

“Just cause I’m drunk? Now you have morals?” the question came out harshly than it sounded on your head, you could see (hazily so) Toji frowning over it, “Sorry, that’s not what—“

“I should leave.”

“No!” you held his arm and moved to sit on his lap, he stared at your with an expression you couldn’t read.

With your side lamp on and nothing but the sound of your breathing you began to overthink about your situationship.

Toji sighed and lifted his hand to hold your neck but didn’t move to kiss you, he just stayed there almost touching noses. You cursed yourself for falling in the first place, then you cursed him for giving you all the reasons to fall.

“Why you gotta make this so hard?” you let it out in a whisper, he looked deep in your eyes with those gorgeous green fucking orbs.

“Whatcha sayin’?” he digged.

You considered yourself a careful person, always thinking things through and considering the risks.

Yet Toji (added to the alcohol in your blood) made you forget everything and become ridiculously impulsive with your words.

“I like you, that’s what I’m saying” you announced a little bit annoyed, “…and i hate you too” you whispered the last part, feeling the burn of upcoming tears in your eyes.

You felt pathetic, after having heard your coworkers talk about their loved ones there you were: tearing up on the lap of a man you knew had no intentions to have a serious relationship with you, not to mention a long list of crimes against your kind.

“Oh darling” he cooed holding you face, “I’m not worth your affection, you know that” your heart broke at the sentence, you weren’t sure what you wanted to hear, but it wasn’t that.

“Asshole” you murmured staring at his lips. He gave you a peck, then another then one that had a salted taste of the single tear that ran down.

“You’re not even going to remember saying that tomorrow” he slithered back to lay down with you.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true” his arm held you close, the warmth of his body worked like a charm to make you drowsy, your eyes were heavy and your body got more and more relaxed, you thought you heard him saying something but sleep got to you first, wishing he would still be there in the morning for a change.

#— the cliches ™#jjk x reader #toji x you #toji x reader #toji angst

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nekohime19 · 13 days

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Heart behind the lie # 1 : Wounded beast

Let's go, I'm going to repost all chapters of this fic on Tumblr. It's gonna be a ride.

For those who don't know the fic, it's about Wukong becoming feral after LBD possession and Macaque having to take care of him even if he's at first unwilling.

TW : blood and injuries

There was a time, long ago, when he was feared. A time when he was the enemy hiding in the shadows, the killer capable of roaming every nook and cranny of this earth. Capable of hearing the deepest secrets of gods and demons alike, and brought them to his King's feet, whispering long forgotten truth in his golden ears.

A time when the sun still loved him enough to share its warmth with him, to give purpose to every pump of blood flowing through his veins. He had been naive then, too young to see beyond what was given, beyond the kind smiles thrown his way. Satisfied to be nothing more than the shadow of a fool, the silhouette of a King not deserving of his throne.

He wondered if the men that feared him would still be struck by terror if they saw him again. Chained and battered, a mere puppet at the service of a witch fooling herself with dreams forever unachievable. Would they fear him, or would they pity him, seeing him as what he truly was, and perhaps what he always had been : a broken fool.

When he crawled out of his grave, digging through layers of piled dirt with broken claws, he promised to never let himself fall for kindness again. He picked his shattered heart, giving it as much tenderness as he could, and stuffed it in his chest. He appeased his crying, bleeding heart with whispers of vengeance, and an oath to never trust again. It didn't soothe the pain tearing him apart, it didn't soothe the memory of him. It only gave his heart a reason to beat, and not die pitifully seconds after his rebirth, if you could call this wretched life a rebirth.

He broke this promise when the kid asked him to be a warrior. All his will, his oath of vengeance, shattered before a trusting gaze.

He fell for kindness, again. Maybe he was doomed to never learn, to never understand that trust was a lie, trust gave to him, at least. He was the shadows, the one you should never trust, the one you always betrayed.

He betrayed his own heart, and took the hands of a child as naive as he once had been. Repeating, again and again, like a dog chained to a never ending circle, the same mistakes. Do not follow after the hero, this should be simple enough. Their golden steps were not made for you, you were not made for the light. But every oath, every promise, meant nothing in the face of his own weak heart. Hope was unkillable, he learnt, at least within himself. He couldn't help but fall for their tricks, for their soft eyes and their blinding kindness, for the hope of it being true.

And there he was, fighting the great sage equal to heaven, the one he once followed willingly, and losing against him.

It was bitter, to realize your own weakness, what you had become after eons of being a ghost. The Diyu shattered him, and the Bone Demon didn't take the time to collect all the pieces of his broken soul. His strength was a mere illusion, a trick he conjured up to fool the strong, a shadow of what he had once possessed.

He was an illusionist, a great pretender.

The only thing keeping him alive was his instinct, the sensations he forged in the midst of battle. Macaque had one been a warrior, his body, even ruined, remembered those times. He evaded the fists of the possessed King, wincing everytime death grazed him. He didn't need to win, he wasn't sure he could anyway, he only had to gain time. Enough for the kid to retrieve his weapon, and bring the King to his senses.

Because he was the only one capable of doing it, wasn't he? Sun Wukong made him bleed without any speck of remorse, his grunts and cries were nothing to him, but a mere word of the kid, a human he knew only for a few months, was enough to break the witch's hold over his mind.

He buried the thought before he could indulge it, envy wasn't something he should feel, especially for his killer's love. This was nothing but the echo of a long gone past. He was only surprised by Sun Wukong's quick fondness, nothing more. It had to be nothing more if he wanted to preserve his sanity, especially in the midst of a fight.

Macaque rolled around, evading each of the sage attacks. He ran, claws ratting on the floor, ears erect, capturing each sound echoing nearby. His heart was beating against his skin, a traitorous thing that overflowed with fear.

The King grabbed his tail and threw him around. Macaque crashed on sharp rocks, breath knocked out of his lungs. One tip pierced his skin, burying itself in blood and flesh, tearing his bones apart. Macaque slapped his hands on his mouth, smothering his cries, killing them before they could pass his bruised lips. He needed to get up. No matter the pain. He didn't have the time to let the suffering fester and poison his mind.

The ebony monkey tried to slip in the shadows, in safety, but he didn't have enough magic for that anymore. The shadows melted under his claws, disappearing, forever out of reach. If he had more time, he would worry about this, after all his whole existence depended on his magic, life wasn't flowing in his veins anymore, magic was. But Macaque couldn't worry about this, not when the sage was running towards him on all four with fiery eyes and claws coated in his blood.

The ebony monkey wheezed, blood dripping on his lips, and scrambled to rise. Death was approaching, he could feel it, he lived through it one time. And like the first time Diyu claimed him, the one putting him underground was a being coated in gold with eyes once familiar, and cared for.

But Macaque didn't want to die, not again. Perhaps, his body remembered the torture it endured in the Diyu and was scared to live through it again, it acted on its own, gathering every last speck of strength he possessed and punching the King. His knuckles crashed upon golden skin, claws piercing pale blue eyes, and his last drop of magic pushed the sage away.

Sun Wukong crashed a few meters away, before a sharp cliff. Macaque felt nauseous, without magic his body crumbled on itself, each beat of his heart painful enough to make him cry. He heard the sage groan, an animalistic cry piercing through the air. That wasn't normal, the sage never spoke while possessed by the witch, voice frozen by her hold.

The macaque watched, still, the sage slowly rising to his feet. He moved strangely, arms and legs trembling, unable of holding his weight. He fell, and fell, struggling to stand up, like a puppet with cut strings, trying to walk on his own for the first time. Sun Wukong walked on all four, moving carefully, sniffing his surroundings, limbs still trembling.

Macaque tried to rise once again, but his legs failed him, and he stumbled on the ground. The sage turned towards him, ears erect, and face still marred by his claws, long glittering red slashes piercing his eyes. Sun Wukong hissed, fur rising, fangs out. He looked like a beast, perhaps he was in this moment.

"You're trying a new thing ?" Mocked the macaque, trying to speak with the witch, to make sense of this situation. But silence remained.

The sage only hissed louder, backing away slowly, like Macaque was the one to be feared, like the sage was the one who needed to escape.

" Is this a mind game ? You think I'll fall for that !" Sneared the ebony monkey, but like before, nothing answered him. If he could, Macaque would use his ears and try to listen for the whereabouts of the witch, but he didn't have enough strength to do so, and the only thing he heard was the howling winds, his own heart and the sage hisses.

Sun Wukong kept backing away, slowly approaching the edge of the cliff.

"You're gonna fall." Hissed the ebony monkey, but it was like the sage couldn't hear him, couldn't even understand him.

The sage looked around, groaning, like something was trying to attack him, a ghost only he could saw. Macaque could see his eyes, flickering between blue, gold and red, a battle was taking place in those irises, perhaps as violent as this one. The King cried, his own claws piercing his heads, blood flowed in his russet fur. He backed away, and fell out of the cliff, a frail, scared chirp stumbling out of his lips.

Macaque ran. He ignored the ache in his body, and ran towards the cliff, pushed by an instinct he thought he buried long ago. He ran, and jumped after the King, falling with him in the howling winds. There were a number of things he could blame for this foolish act. The pain that rendered him mad. The kid and his eyes full of trust he didn't want to shatter. The weird state of the King, and the need to defeat the witch. But in the end, he knew this act was nothing but the last echo of his feelings for the sage, the instinct of a shadow wanting to protect the one giving him respite.

The sage was curled up like a newborn, falling without even trying to call upon his cloud, or any other powers that could save him from pain. The macaque caught him rather easily, and held him closer, pushing him in his bloody chest. Sun Wukong battled him, perhaps not wanting to be saved by his nemesis, a fitting prettiness for a being as prideful as the great sage.

"Stop moving !" Growled the ebony monkey, and the sage instantly calmed down, looking at him with round eyes, like he didn't expect to be caught by him of all people.

Macaque lost himself in ruby eyes, savage and untamed, rivers of blood as gorgeous as the dawning sky. The sage chirped, a questioning, faint sound, lost in the winds. He chirped back, pushed by his most shameful instincts, a sound that was meant to be reassuring, but sounded like a dying dove. Sun Wukong seemed to appreciate his chirp nonetheless, he curled around his chest, golden tail tying itself on his bony hips.

Macaque took most of the fall, he crashed upon the earth, his nemesis cradled in his arms like a mother would hide his infant from pain. He groaned, bones shattering on impact, flesh torn, fur dripping with warm red. He sullied the golden bundle cuddled on his chest, blood spoiling perfect locks, locks cherished by the sun itself. Why did he go after the sage ? Sun Wukong had enough immortality to feed armies of man, while he was a walking corpse latching on life like a flea would latch on a dog.

Why was he still following after his killer ?

Macaque knew the pain was making him delirious, at least that was the only explanation he could muster, because Sun Wukong would never look at him with such worry, not anymore. He was bleeding out, and mayhaps this was an illusion his dying mind conjured up, something to appease his pain.

He is going to die in the arms of this man, again. But maybe dying was kinder than living in shame, weak and incapable of killing the one that took everything from him.

Macaque closed his eyes, tiredness gnawing at his shattered bones. His ears flickered, bothered by frantic chirps, and worried coos.

"Shut up." Muttered the ebony monkey, but whoever made those sounds didn't listen, and only cried louder.

Warmth fell upon him, a fur he didn't feel since centuries, a scent he didn't smell since before his downfall. He let those pitiful illusions embrace him, and lost himself, letting his mind fall in the darkest of slumber.

Memories came to him.

Flashes of another life, of another him, someone so white, so full of foolish hope, naive to the bone.

"Isn't it perfect !" Laughed the King sitting on his side. A being made of gold, with eyes full of stars, and smile full of white fangs.

"What ? The cliff ? You saw it hundred of times." He said, his voice smooth, flowing serenely like the course of a river, holding nor malice, nor hatred.

"Come on, Liu'er, you're always so grumpy." Groaned the golden monkey, he rolled his eyes and gestured to the cliff, like what he was trying to say was obvious, etched on nature itself.

"I don't see it." Snorted the macaque, before him was only a cliff, a sky, a sea, he didn't understand what was beautiful in such normal views. What could catch the eye of his King.

"You're serious? Liu'er, it beautiful !" Whined the King, he latched to him, golden fur merging with white locks.

Macaque shuddered, embraced by warmth, a novelty for a shadow as cold as him. He turned towards the King and felt his heart leap out of his chest. Sun Wukong was beautiful, lightened by the clear light of eternal summer, eyes struck by the sea blue, fur wet with sunlight.

"Beautiful." Whispered the macaque, bewitched by the golden being at his side.

"So now you understand what I'm saying ?" Chuckled the golden monkey, his own eyes lost in the sea before them.

He never answered, throat strangled with unsaid words, a fondness he would hide forever.

But Shihou didn't exist anymore, devoured by another, by the great sage.

Macaque woke up frantically, nerves alight, and skin burned by sweat and blood. Everything was a blur, a blend of shapes and colors, of echos and cracks. He stayed a long time in this state, torn between blurriness and clearness. He was in something soft, perhaps clean sheets, and this alone made him question his sanity. Was this a dream ? Because he knew for a fact he didn't touch a sheet since before his death.

At last, blurriness began to fade away, allowing him to see in what kind of place he landed. Did they threw his corpse on a street, atop the waist of a bedding shop ? Macaque was quite surprised to see a room, a white, lavish room, ornated with dragons. He was on a bed, bandaged from top to bottom, body aching everywhere. He couldn't move, each of his nerves was frozen by pain, so he simply stayed still, eyes glued to the white ceiling.

After a bit, someone entered the room, a maid or something ressembling a servant, with clothes sewn with dragons, seemingly a recurring theme in this place. The maid looked at him with round eyes, before darting outside like a frightened deer. Huh, he didn't thought he looked that ugly, this hurts his self-esteem a little. However, he couldn't stay awake until the master, or mistress, of this place deigned to show themself, he succombed to slumber, again.

The second time he woke up, he was struck by the worst headache on earth, surely even drunken teenager didn't woke up with this sort of pain. He groaned, feeling like his whole skull ached, and rolled in the sheet. His slight movement was meet with more pain, so he decided to simply curl on himself, and let whoever put him here do whatever they saw fit. He wasn’t in any state to fight, anyway.

"Don't move, you have several broken bones." The voice was soft, a light whisper, full of warmth. He knew this voice, he turned, painfully, towards the one sitting on his bedside and met the strained smile of the kid.

"Hey kiddo, you're not dead." He sounded like a sick seagull, but at least he could speak.

"No, we won."

He thought victory would taste better, better than pain, aches and tiredness at least.

"Hm, where am I ?" Asked the macaque.

"In Mei's place, we tried the hospital but they didn't keep you for long, they don't deal with mistyc stuff, apparently." Huffed the boy, like he was upset on his behalf, which was a novelty.

"I'm too tough for them." Chuckled the macaque, he quickly regreted it, his stomach didn't like to be shaken, it seemed. The boy stood up, hands hovering above him, but never touching, like he was afraid of shattering him.

"Take it easy. You've been asleep for a long time."

"How long ?"

"One week."

"Huh, I've been asleep longer."But the boy didn't get his death joke, maybe he shouldn't joke about it, whatever, this wasn't important. Macaque noticed bandages on the boy's arms. "The Bone Demon got you ?" MK furrowed his eyebrows, lost, before understanding what he meant.

"Oh no, no, she's gone, for good."

"Great." He would never admit the relief washing over him at those words, the sheer joy of no longer being chained by another.

"I, huh, I got those from someone else."

"Never thought Wukong would let anyone do that." Sneared the ebony monkey, but surprisingly enough the boy didn't jump on his mentor defense. He only stood here, eyes downcast, sadness etched on his face. "Where's your mentor, anyway ? I doubt he would like you being with me."

"He's… elsewhere." Answered the kid, this was suspicious, but Macaque didn't want to dwell on Wukong whereabouts, the sage coud take care of himself.

"Okay." And the discussion ended here, the kid rose after a bit, and left him with a faint “take care, I'll come back”.

Macaque only nodded, wondering when they would throw him out now that he was awake. His state was strange, he shouldn't be able to function properly after loosing so much magic, but now that he focused on this, he could feel something in him, something foreign.

There was magic flowing in his veins, but it wasn't his. Something more celestial, warm, almost scorching. Whathever it was, it feeded his soul and his skin, forcing life to flow again. It was only a question of time before he devoured every ounce of this foreign magic though. He knew well that he didn't have enough strength to repleat himself naturally, and that this foreign source was too faint to keep him in the mortal plane forever.

Right now, he was like a bottomless pit, every inch of magic would be devoured to keep him stable, and now that the witch that regularly fed him was long gone, he was destined to fade away.

To die, a second time.

It was only a matter of when. Would he die the day after tomorrow, still incapable of leaving those pitiful sheets, or would he die inside the wreck he called a dojo, after weeks of suffering.

Whatever he chose to do, his future ended in pain.

When the boy came back, Macaque didn't feel like trying. He did nevertheless, because he was weak at heart, and he didn't want to disappoint the first person to ever show him a speck of kindness after eons of solitude. His own weakness disgusted him, but he was too weary for wearing the spiteful mask he created. He tried to walk, tried to stretch, and after days of slow recovering, and patient exercising, he was able to stumble through corridors without any help.

"Do you hate Monkey King ?" Asked the boy, one day, while they did umpteith exercises.

"Yes, I do." Because what else was he supposed to answer, the thing he felt for Wukong was so bitter, it could only be hatred.

"… But would you do me a favor ?" This was tricky, he didn't owe anything, in the proper way, but he was recovering inside the dragon girl house. And she was at the boy beck and call.

"What favor ?"

"Would you take care of him ?"

"Wukong is capable of taking care of himself, besides I don't think he wants my help."

"It's complicated." Sighed the boy, arms littered with more bandages. "Maybe it's better to show you."

Macaque followed after the boy, only because he wanted to see Wukong at he's lowest and nothing more. They walked in long, lavish corridors, and finally reached something oddly ressembling dungeons, but more comfortable than the old staves he was accustomed to. The kid hesitated before a door, a heavy, chained door, marred with claws mark. He finally opened it, and they entered a large room, completely wrecked.

The bed was teared open, blankets thrown on the floor like battered corpses, what must have been a dresser was broken beyond repair, shards of mirrors littered the floor, and the walls were clawed with hatred.

"Monkey King ?" Whispered the kid, he walked cautiously inside the hornet's nest, and knealed before the bed. "Are you there ?" The boy tried to reach beneath the bed, but the moment his hand extended, sharp claws teared his skin open.

MK yelped and stumbled back, he didn't look surprised, only pained and disappointed. Holding his bleeding arms with eyes full of uncried tears.

"What is this ?" Asked the macaque with a tight voice.

"It's Monkey King."

"You're kidding ? This is not-"

"We found him like this, according to Red Son the possession wrecked his mind."

"So what, he's crazy now ?" Snorted the ebony monkey.

"He's scared. He didn't want to part from you when we found the both of you. But you needed help so we… "

"You don't need to finish this." Sighed the ebony monkey, not liking the waver in the boy's voice. "What do you want from me ?"

"Could you at least try to help him, please." Pleaded the kid.

"… I promise nothing, kiddo."

"It's alright, as long as you try."

Macaque knealed before the bed, and took a look beneath it. Two fiery eyes watched him from the darkness, Sun Wukong was curled up against the wall, tail lashing and ears pined back. Macaque gulped, and tried to extend his arm, the sage hissed, fangs glinting in the dim light. But then, the beast sniffed, snout furrowing furiously. And cautiously, like a wounded tiger, Sun Wukong crawled towards him. He growled when the ebony monkey dared to move, and as such Macaque stood perfectly still.

Sun Wukong sniffed his hand, snout brushing against his open palm. His eyes extended, turning almost dark, and he cooed curiously. Macaque answered with a weak chirp, something rough and quick. Sun Wukong chirped back, a bell-like sound echoing in the silence. Then, the great sage crawled out of the bed and circled him, sniffing him, and eyeing him suspiciously. Once satisfied, the beast sat on his lap, and curled on himself.

Macaque gulped, looking at the beast curled in his lap with fear, hatred and pity.

This smelled like trouble.

#shadowpeach #lego monkie kid #lmk #shadowpeach fanfic #sun wukong #six eared macaque #lmk macaque #lmk shadowpeach #We're going for a ride this one is long #Heart behind the lie

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kymerawrites · 3 months

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BROKEN PROMISES

Summary; After being betrayed by your own organization, you turn to Simon Riley for revenge. He welcomes you into his dark world with open arms, and you fall for his charm. However, Simon's love is conditional and manipulative, and he exploits your pain for his own gain. As you become a pawn in his sinister game, you discover that there is no happy ending with a man like him.

I never imagined I'd find myself standing on the other side of the law, but after being betrayed by my own organization, turning to Simon Riley for revenge seemed like the only option left.

The shadows of the dimly lit warehouse loomed around me as I waited for him, the man known only as Ghost. Every whispered rumor about his ruthlessness echoed in my mind, but the sting of betrayal from those I once trusted burned hotter. As his silhouette emerged from the darkness, a chilling sense of foreboding washed over me. This was a dangerous game I was about to play, but the hunger for vengeance had already consumed me.

"You're late," his voice was cold, yet mesmerizing, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"I had to make sure I wasn't followed," I replied, trying to mask the fear and uncertainty in my tone.

His eyes, hidden behind the skull-patterned balaclava, seemed to pierce through me, assessing, calculating. "And why should I trust someone who's just switched sides? How come I should trust someone like you kyla?" He said slowly

"Because," I said, stepping closer, "no one knows my former team better than I do. I can give you everything you need to destroy them."

A slow, menacing smile curved beneath his mask. "Very well, but remember, loyalty to me comes with a price."

That was the begin of something destructive and irreversible.

Days turned into weeks as I immersed myself in the underworld I once fought against. Ghost was true to his word ‘loyalty to him came at a steep price.’ I found myself entangled in a web of deceit, violence, and power plays, each day pulling me further from the person I once was. The revenge I sought came with unforeseen consequences, and the closer I got to Ghost, the more I realized how deep his darkness ran.

The first step into Ghost's world was like diving headfirst into a pool of shadows, each promise he made, each smile that tugged at his lips, was a carefully crafted act of manipulation. Despite the danger, I couldn't help but be drawn to him.

As time went on, I found myself falling deeper into his web of darkness, blinded by my desire for revenge and the subtle charm he wielded like a weapon. He played me like a puppet, each string tugged with calculated precision.

"You're not here to make friends, doll. You're not here to trust." That was something he'd say often

The late nights became a haze of alcohol fueled debauchery and shattered promises. Ghost's presence loomed over me, his voice a drug that sent my senses reeling. There were times when he'd hold me, his touch a mix of tenderness and possessiveness, just barely brushing the line of cruelty, as if testing my limits.

"You're mine," he'd whisper, his breath hot against my skin, "and I don't share my toys. Remember that."

As the nights bled into days, I found myself trapped in a cycle of torment. Ghost's love was a twisted, manipulative game of give and take, a constant battle for power. One day, he'd be gentle, his touch soft and soothing, the next a storm of passion mixed with cruelty.

"You're a distraction," he'd tell me, his eyes cold and devoid of all emotion. "You're a weakness I can't afford."

"Then why do you keep me around?" I once asked, the pain in my voice echoing through the room.

He'd turn his gaze to me, a flicker of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. "Because, doll, you're not just a weakness." He'd take a step closer, the air between us crackling with tension. "You're a toy I can't quite put down yet."

The days when his eyes would go cold and devoid of all life were the most torturous. He'd treat me like a mere tool, his touch harsh and biting, his words a barrage of insults and harsh truths.

"You're a liability, love," he'd say, his hands grasping my wrists, holding me against the wall. "You're nothing but a complication."

"I am not a complication!" I'd fight against his grip, my heart racing, my mind spinning from the clash of emotions.

He’d press closer, his body pinning me to the wall, the heat from his body making me shiver. A sinister smile would play on his lips, a cold gleam in his eyes. "Oh, but you are," he growl. "A beautiful, messy complication that I both hate and cannot get enough of."

I always felt the question, was this the right decision? Why did I ever resort to ally with our biggest enemy as an act of vengeance. The moment Simon layed eyes on me he knew he could have me in the palm of his hands, at his mercy.

Ghost had a way of sensing weakness and exploiting it, and he knew from the first moment he laid eyes on you that you were ripe for the taking. He could see the fire burning in your eyes, the fierce determination to seek revenge. He could see your vulnerability, the raw pain and anger lurking just beneath the surface.

With a sly smile, he'd reach out and gently caress your cheek, his touch both gentle and possessive. His voice would be a seductive whisper in your ear, "You came to me because you were desperate. You came to me because you had nowhere else to turn."

Ghost's words were a masterclass in manipulation, each one carefully calculated to mold you into what he wanted you to be. The sweet words were a honey trap, a temporary release from the harsh reality of your situation. The mean words were designed to chip away at your resolve, to remind you of your helplessness.

And the devoid and emotionless words were there to dehumanize you, to remind you that you were nothing more than a toy in his games. But it was the passionate words that were the most dangerous.

One evening he had an informant who posed as a driver for one of the other men in his gang on the floor, I knew him that was one of my old teammates, the moment he saw me he went mad, rampaging a lot of slurs and words which most couldn’t be made out

Ghost stood back, silently watching the scene unfold, a smirk on his lips. He enjoyed this, seeing the pain and suffering play out before him.

"Seems like you know him," he said casually, leaning against a wall.

My teammate went on to call me all the names in the book “you dirty lying bitch! I knew you would end up doing the wrong thing, oh I hope you’ll get mauled when the rest sees you when you have no where to hide anymore!” He screamed

I looked at him coldly and chuckled, my gaze darkened as I looked him in the eye “Simon, why do you let this nothing worth loser disrespect you, and me.. no one should disrespect you or his woman.. isn’t that right?” I smirked as I turned around to face Simon.

This was the first time I acted like this, like I belonged in this position, next to him. As if I was his backbone

Ghost's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise in his gaze. He was not accustomed to seeing you take charge like this. You had always been the submissive one, the one following his lead, obeying his orders. But now, you stood there, exuding a confidence that he had never seen before.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "My, my," he chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "Looks like someone's found their spine."

Simon walked towards the man, who was held down by 2 of his other man. Guns pressed to his side

The man's eyes widened in terror as Ghost sauntered towards him. The air grew tense, thick with the promise of violence.

Ghost came to a stop right in front of the man, looking down at him like a predator sizing up his prey. "You had a lot to say just now, didn't you?" he growled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone.

"Insults, name-calling, threats... all pretty bold words for someone in your position." Ghost's lips curled into a sinister smile as he leaned down, his eyes locked on the man's terrified face.

"But you seem to forget," he whispered, his voice dripping with menace, "that I don't tolerate disrespect. Not towards me, not towards my people. And definitely not towards her." He gestured towards you with a nod.

The man's face paled as he realized his mistake. He had crossed a line by disrespecting you, and now he was facing the full wrath of Ghost.

"Please," he whimpered, struggling against the men holding him down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Ghost cut him off with a sharp backhand to the face. "Too late for apologies," he snarled. "You had your chance to show respect, and you blew it."

Ghost had zero tolerance for disloyalty and disrespect, that much was clear. The former teammate who had once been part of your team now found himself on the wrong end of Ghost's wrath.

"You forget who you're talking to," Ghost growled, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at the man. "My word is law, and your words are nothing but trash."

Simon clicked his finger and told me to come, as I walked towards Simon he put a gun in my hand “prove to me that the reason you came to me wasn’t a lie. Prove to me you are loyal to me.” He said coldly

Your heart pounded in your chest as Ghost handed you the gun, his words ringing in your ears. This was it, the moment of truth. He wanted you to prove your loyalty, to show him that you hadn't made a mistake coming to him.

You took the gun, the cold, hard metal feeling unfamiliar in your hand. You looked up at Ghost, his eyes cold and calculating as they gazed at you.

"What do you want me to do?" you asked, your voice steady despite the fear that gripped you.

“Show ur revenge, show ur vengeance” he said leaving me to finish the job

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you aimed the gun at the trembling form of your former teammate. This was the moment you had ached for, the chance to exact your revenge on those who betrayed you.

Ghost watched you intently, his gaze unwavering as you stood ready to pull the trigger. His eyes were dark and emotionless, no trace of the man you had come to know during your time with him. This was the ruthless, coldhearted version of him, the one who expected total obedience and loyalty.

You felt the weight of the situation press down on you, the lives of other people in your hands. But Ghost's command echoed in your head, demanding that you prove your loyalty to him.

With one last deep breath, you steadied your aim and pulled the trigger, ending the life of a man who was part of the betrayal.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the smoke cleared, the room falling silent. You had done it, you had taken revenge on one of the people who had betrayed you.

Ghost watched you silently, his eyes locked on yours. He nodded slowly, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Well done," he said quietly. "You certainly proved your loyalty to me."

Ghost's touch was gentle yet possessive as he cupped your cheek, his eyes tracing over your face. There was a hint of something dangerous in his gaze, a dark thrill that stirred within him. He motioned for his men to leave, and as the room cleared, he leaned in close to you.

"There's a place I want to take you," he whispered, his voice low and seductive. "Somewhere less... messy."

That evening he gave me the best love he had, moaning, whimpers, hot candle wax and a lot of pain inflicting and pleasure was made

That night, Ghost unleashed a side of himself that you had never seen before. He was rough and demanding, his touch leaving deep, pleasurable marks on your skin. He moved with a sense of purpose and intensity, his eyes locked on yours as he took you to places of pleasure and pain.

"You're mine," he growled in your ear, his voice low and possessive. "And I'm going to make damn sure you never forget it."

You were caught in a web of desire and passion, blind to the fact that Ghost's love was a toxic, twisted game. He had consumed you, his cruel words and rough touch molding you into something both beautiful and broken.

But as the night wore on, a sense of foreboding settled over you. You knew deep down that this was not the happy ending you had hoped for, that being tangled up with a dangerous man like Ghost would only lead to pain and destruction.

#ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #modern warfare #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley #codcanon #cod imagine #cod fanfic #call of duty x reader #dead dove do not eat #dark romance

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feverdreamsandlucidnightmares · 6 months

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I keep thinking about moral vs ethical authorities and actions in the Trigun animes. I hope this ramble about it makes sense.

I think most of us will agree that morality is perfectly capable of secular development and is unbeholden to religion in general, though religions can certainly serve as a moral authority and inform specifics. But they are not, or at least not the only, source of morals.

And while ethics and morals are often used as synonyms, they do actually have different meanings. The short version is that ethics are the rules and standards of a social system/culture/etc and morals determine what a person individually thinks is wrong or right. Often, people’s morals and ethics follow the same principles and authorities. They don’t have to, though.

Functionally, let’s say that ethical choices are social goods, and thus social authorities are the ethical authorities within a given society or culture. Much like laws and power structures are meant to protect and benefit the people they govern, a social or common good is something that benefits the largest number of people within a society. In Trigun, these authorities include the Bernardelli Insurance Society (in a limited capacity), the JuLai/July military police, the Eye of Michael, and (notably, but discretely) Millions Knives.

There’s plenty of speculation on and textual implication within Trigun Stampede that Knives and Conrad having their hands in a lot of JuLai’s governance and polices. This is where the moral value of the ethical systems in place becomes questionable.

There are a lot of implications to unpack within an ethical system potentially developed and controlled by a genocidal semi-immortal being using it as a shadow government. The abridged, most important point is that there is no reason for Knives to be a part of a system that allows humans to flourish, build community, and grow. There is every reason for him to convince/allow everyone to think that he is.

A social good is one with the support of those in authority. It has no innate moral value. Laws and orders from unjust governments do not absolve anyone of the weight of their actions. But they determine who is punished.

So, the Eye. The church of No Man’s Land. A social authority for people in Hopeland, at least to some extent. Enough so that the orphanage cannot stop the Eye from taking its children. And Windmill Village to a much larger extent. So much so that its people volunteer their children as sacrifices. And it’s implied to have a much wider reach than just that. The Eye of Michael is a cult that preys upon the planet’s most desperate. Rollo - sick and poor and unlucky. Blessed. Made new, made whole (everything down to his emotions tampered with). Monev the Gale. Wolfwood and Livio - orphans and poor. Wolfwood, the handpicked Child of Blessing. The perfect candidate to be a child soldier. Nicholas the Punisher. Livio, the volunteer. The good and faithful brother follower. Livio the Double Fang. The other Gung-Ho-Guns. Dominique the Cyclops, Midvalley the Hornfreak, Rai-Dei the Blade, E. G. Mine, Leonof the Puppet-Master, Hoppered the Gauntlet, Caine the Longshot — volunteers? Desperate people doing desperate things? Or violent people playing at divine intervention? Social authorities in their own right, in the sense that they can do what they want without repercussions from the masses. They answer to Legato, to Knives, not to the traditional governments of No Man’s Land.

And Legato has been desperate. He would kill almost anyone before suffering that again. He would die to escape it, too. Life holds so little meaning to him. The end is near and he is both hierophant and harbinger. He lays no claim to justice, only ruin, but it’s all in Knives’ name.

Knives, who plays god. Who puts a bounty on his brother’s head to drive him back to him. All that power, he gets to determine what is wrong or right and people can either agree or die. It’s easy to see where his morals fail, but there isn’t a higher power to enact justice. So, he has the authority, what goods does he perform with it?

It’s also important to note that Zazie does not perform moral or social goods. Zazie serves themself, for their own betterment. And this is not a moral failing because applying human morals to a multi-consciousness conglomerated hivemind controlled collective of bugs can’t make sense. Zazie is all of the wams on No Man’s Land. All of their collective experiences in the species’ existence. All of their lives, all of their loss. It’s all Zazie. And Zazie believes that the needs of the many (themself in all their facets) outweigh the needs of the interlocutor few (humanity, Plants). Tentatively willing to coexist and adapt, unwilling to accept their own destruction. Allies or enemies. They work with Knives until it no longer benefits them. Very utilitarian.

Nonetheless, the Eye of Michael and its chosen crusaders, its sychophants, its priests are a definitive social and tentative moral authority within No Man’s Land. So, who can tell Conrad that he is performing anything other than a social good by doing his experiments? He claims he’s trying to save humanity and the only authority over him wants humanity dead. A flawed system. The Gung-Ho-Guns perform social goods by killing whoever they are sent to exterminate. This, of course, includes Vash without regard to whoever might be caught in the crossfire. Vash, who unwittingly takes the blame for his brother over and over. Vash, who has a bounty placed on his head by his brother and his misguided puppet government. Vash, who is being mocked and chided, his bounty the same as the cost of a new Plant. Vash, the Humanoid Typhoon, legally an act of God, the first “human” natural disaster. Destruction in his wake.

Wolfwood performs a social good by betraying Vash. He has the authority to justify his actions through his ordainment.

And Wolfwood performs a moral good by saving Meryl. It’s the first unilaterally moral good he performs in Trigun Stampede. That’s important. The thing about Wolfwood is that he knows the difference between moral and social goods. He knows whatever values he’d like to act on don’t align with his orders, but there’s always other lives at stake. Wolfwood doesn’t kill because he’s particularly bloodthirsty. He’s pragmatic. Other people have to die to keep the orphanage safe. An unfortunate, but necessary cost that he’s willing to pay. Until he isn’t anymore. Monsters don’t need morals, but if Vash can afford them maybe he can, too.

And normal, everyday people perform social goods, too, by trying to stop bank robbers and bandits and the Nebraska Family. And Vash. Those are ethical decisions, stopping criminals threatening your home is ethical. You just have to remember who determines who the criminals are and why.

Your moral and ethical authorities, ideally, should be in alignment. This is not a utopia, so they aren’t. And these random people living on the planet he forced them onto are continuously subjected to the so-called social good of Knives enacting his divine plan in order to force Vash’s hand. They are a necessary sacrifice for his greater good. The greater good that is Knives’ Eden, that is a world remade in his image. Vash remade in his image.

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ay0nha · 28 days

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PLEASE do a gojo x old flame reader

maye she's on the run and gojo finds her and charms her, I don't know if this makes sense but basically she is onpar with gojo but doesn't like jujutsu and gojo and her don't get along because of that

Word Count: 700

A/N: I hope I did you justice! just a little blurb about how I think this would go down...willing to do a part two if anyone is interested! Comments always welcomed and encouraged.

“You’re hard to find, you know…” Gojo hummed with interest. He hid his surprise well; he hadn’t expected you to be here, in the flesh tangibly. “Had to go off a rumor… ” He paused. “I have to say, though, I wasn’t expecting this…”

Your hand was steady, pistol pointed at the back of your intruder’s head. Anyone should know better than to listen to the rumors that floated within the Gachinko Fight Club. It was a mistake that you created ones that swarmed your image.

But your wrists itched.

It was as if phantom threads tethered you down. When the knots tightened due to resistance, you became a marionette for those who put you in your place. You’d move with talent as a puppet controlled by those ranked above you.

Your exhaustion had created a silly—delusional— image in your head. Your cheeks were rosy with red paint, and your eyes brightened with Pierrot-styled tears. You performed on a stage silently, an alienated observer of the mysteries and shadows of sorcery.

You took on a second life, reciting an alert, troubled, swaying, and deliberately uncertain verse. It didn’t matter if the audience understood; they considered what you said genuine art. Then, when it all ended, the standing ovation wouldn’t bring you the joy you thought.

In other words, you grew bored of the act. You were tired of the shadows consuming your days. You itched to stretch your power. And now you were here, leaving residuals behind like a novice for others to track.

“Hakari never mentioned you were here.” Gojo turned to face the barrel, a soft smile present. His hands were clasped behind his back, chest forward with enthusiasm.

“I’ve had a really long day—” You cocked the gun. It was a superficial barrier, you knew it would have no effect and primitive in its purpose. “—get to the point, Gojo.”

“You’re distracted.” All six eyes focused as Gojo spoke honestly. He cocked his head immaturely, inspecting you closer. “You fight with feeling, I’ll give you that, but you lack…assurance. You’re holding back.”

“I don’t have time for fan service.” You frowned. The more you pushed forward, the more resistance you were met with. “Why are you here?”

Your lip throbbed, newly bruised and busted from the spat you were just in. It had been a rigged match. If you went down, more money went into your pocket. It wasn’t long until another fight called your name. This time, though, your built-up frustration would find catharsis. The spectacle would draw in the cash. You’d put on a show for non-sorcerers, and you knew you’d receive that standing ovation. Again, it didn’t matter. You didn’t fight for your audience; you didn’t even fight for yourself. You weren’t sure what you were doing, but it alleviated you.

You paused in thought. Your eyes scanned the man before you. Satoru Gojo. He was here for something. For you. There was always a catch, never straightforward truth.

“Can’t I visit an old friend?” His shrug carried simplicity.

“No.” Your finger twitched on the trigger. “If you’re here to kill me, get it over with.”

This made Gojo’s humor stutter. It was in your nature to think the worst of him, but it was never easy to swallow. There was a simpler time when you would have blindly followed him, not needing an excuse for his presence. But your skin crawled with something unspoken.

So, he turned serious. “I need your help.”

“You, of all people, can’t be desperate enough to need something.” You pushed. You were growing agitated, buried feelings resurfacing. “What is it you want?”

It was obvious. He needed, no—wanted—your technique. All you could think was how hypocritical. People aren't tools. We aren't born with any set role. Gojo had consoled you once. And yet, here he stood, asking the impossible of you.

So, you pulled the trigger and ran.

#q #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo angst #satoru gojo x reader #jjk #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu satoru #gojo x reader #gojo saturo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x f!reader

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unofficialadamtaurus · 9 months

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I am chronically unable to keep fics to myself so enjoy this thing that's been on my mind since I reread an old ask

Adam knows oblivion. He didn’t used to; for twenty-three years of life, it was a concept and nothing more.

By its very nature it is unknowable until he is, at once and without warning, exhumed from it. Sensation crashes through his spinning mind: the ground under his boots, the weight and feel of his clothes, the air rushing into his lungs when he pulls in a reflexive breath.

His remaining senses wash over him in the aftershock of abrupt existence: the oily scents of industry and garbage; the clash of steel and shouted cries; and his sight. White at first, it clears to permit him a view of the fight reaching his ears.

He’s in a warehouse. Some kind of shipping hub, judging by the towering shelves full of boxes and stacked pallets. On, around, and between those shelves are swarms of people dueling in the deep shadows. Faunus. White Fang, by their clothes. Brightly dressed figures occupy the centers of the chaos.

He’s been aware and taking all of this in for a mere second before he’s moving. It’s not his own will that guides him, not really. It’s an urge. A need. He has to protect the one behind him. He has to.

And so he watches in horror as his blade carves through every White Fang member in his path. The first few don’t even move. They’re staring at him as he’s staring at them, all of them struck dumb.

What he sees of himself explains their reactions as much as his violence does: his limbs and weapons are icy white and blue, trailing frost like smoke.

He tries to stop but his body is a machine that bucks his control. Corpses fall around him. The faunus are shouting now, screaming his name, except they’re not targeting him except to slow him down. They’re trying to get to the one behind him—

They cannot do that.

He moves faster. His face is carved into a snarl but it’s the visage of a beast with its leg in a trap. He can’t escape whatever has a hold on him. He can’t let them get to her. He wants to but he can’t.

He wants to close his eyes. Apologize. Order the ones who haven't already run to get away from him, from whatever puppets him. He wants to and he can’t. There’s a wall between his will and his flesh. He’s a tool. A weapon. Nothing more.

Blood stains his blade, his hands, his face. The few Fang remaining have thrown down their weapons. Held up their hands. Fallen to their knees.

Back away, he begs himself. He steps closer.

Sheath your sword, he pleads. He raises it.

“STOP!”

He freezes. The boy he’d nearly decapitated—a teenager, no older than sixteen—looks up at him in abject fear. There’s blood on his face too, the blood of all his friends Adam had just killed.

It’s silent, or nearly so. The woman who’d cried for him to stop is gasping. She sinks to her knees with an audible thunk of flesh on concrete.

“How?” someone he can’t see whispers. His skin crawls; he knows that voice.

“Weiss?” Another voice, less familiar.

“Who is that?” A third voice, younger than the other two.

All the speakers are behind him. All he sees are the four kids trembling at his feet. Not so long ago he would’ve relished their fear as a sign of his growing power. Now, it makes his stomach churn.

Blood still drips from his sword. He tries to lower it. He tries to sheath it. He tries to tell them to run. It all, again, fails. He digs ragged mental fingers into that wall.

The gasps behind him turn to disbelieving sobs. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—not him! I-I couldn’t—“

“Breathe,” the third speaker advises. “Just breathe.”

He endures another round of unsteady sobs briefly interrupted by attempts at steady breathing. The wall between him and his body cracks under his mental assault; his fingers twitch. The faunus flinch.

“I-I don’t know what happened. They’re always difficult to c-control at first but,” she hiccuped, “this was different. It—he—wouldn’t listen. I wasn’t even trying to summon him!”

The wall shakes. He gains control of his face.

“Run,” he mouths at the faunus. They stare. Glance at each other. And then scramble to their feet and away, leaving their weapons behind in their fear.

“What—“

“Hey!”

Adam spins and levels his sword at the red-cloaked girl trying to run after them. She goes still with wide silver eyes that fix on his.

“Weiss?” she asks.

“I can’t dispel him, Ruby. I’m trying!”

Dispel. Dispel him? He tightens his grip on this ghostly version of Wilt.

“Are your summons…sentient?”

“N-no. Not really. I mean, they’ve all been Grimm until—until now.”

When Ruby next speaks, the question is directed at him: “Who are you?”

His weapon dips. Past her, he sees the blonde whose arm he severed so long ago. He sees Blake. And he finally sees the one controlling him. White hair, white skin, white clothes. Revulsion rips through him, revulsion so deep it obliterates the wall’s remains and slams barefaced into the howling need to protect the Schnee.

#uat writing #adam taurus #weiss schnee #he's in for an absolutely miserable time :)#summoned adam au

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icespur · 7 months

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Akiren choosing to wear a wedding dress for Akeshu/ShuAke wedding:

very late Part 2 to this post below:

I've had this sitting in a Google Doc for a while, I've just been too lazy to post it

(Mementos Mission Manga Scene Spoiler warning)

So while Unapologetically spoiling myself on Persona 5 content, I came across a Manga Spinoff called Mementos Mission. There's a scene where Akira (Protagonist’s name in the Manga canon is Akira Kurusu), teams up with Akechi on an investigation and he's advised to come in disguise and Akira’s version of disguise is “Oh, I just happened to have a female cop uniform in my wardrobe, along with curly hair extensions, lipstick and makeup. I'll wear that.”

Akechi reacts like most people would, and after recovering from a laughing fit, questions what the heck he's wearing.

And Akira is so nonchalant about it “You said to come in disguise and this is what I had on hand 🤷‍♀️.”

The outfit is also available as a DLC costume pack in Persona 5 Dancing In Starlight.

Point is, Akiren canonically crossdresses and has no issue with it.

So what if he willingly wears a wedding dress to an Akeshu/ShuAke wedding scenario?

Originally, the Wedding Dress option was just supposed to be plan B. If for some reason the Metaverse proves to be too dangerous to hold the wedding and they're forced to have it in the real world, Akira could just crossdress as a female and take the role of The Bride.

Luckily Metaverse Wedding is manageable enough. During the private dressing process the Girls took it upon themselves to play Bridal Boutique for Akiren.

Fast-forward to the Wedding. Akechi is waiting at the altar, Grim Reaper officiating (it was originally supposed to be Yaldabaoth but Grim showed up and it seemed letting him be a part of the ceremony was the only way not to get K.O.ed by him). Random assortment of shadows sitting in the crowd that the group managed to convince threaten to attend. Sophia is playing the role of the pipe organ, humming a wedding tune. Ryuji is one of Akiren’s best men, Yusuke is busy in the role of Wedding photographer—-um, “Artist”. Since cameras don't work in the Metaverse, Yusuke has to hand photograph the moments by painting them which he is more than enthusiastic about, this man is going to paint the most detailed works of art ever, who needs a silly camera?

Morgana is on ring bearer duty. unfortunately since Sojiro can't enter the Metaverse, Cop PeePaw Zenkichi Is playing the role of “father that gets to walk Akiren down the aisle”

Jose is the flower boy.

Sumire is one of the girls not playing “Bridal Boutique” and is instead one of Akechi's best—-women? She felt bad for him barely having any Bests on his side so she insisted. The rest of Akechi's Bests entourage consists of docile cognitive beings of Sae Niijima, and a couple of his agents.

Since fashion isn't her area of expertise, Futaba also willingly opted out of playing Wedding Boutique and stood next to Ryuji in Akiren’s Bests line up, along with Lavenza.

Akechi didn't have anyone close to walk him down the Aisle. Shido was an obvious no go. “Absolutely Mcfucking Never In This Lifetime Or In Hell, Docile Cognitive puppet version or not” - in Akechi's own words.

So Igor happily decided to fill that void. The long nosed hunchback was an unsettling sight for Akechi but Akiren reassured he's a decent dude.

The moment comes, doors swing open for the second Groom to reveal—-

Akiren in full wedding dress and veil, hair extensions to further sell the feminine look, along with black lipstick. He's wearing a casual warm smile, absolute zero sense of shame in this man.

Zenkichi and Ryuji do double takes, Futaba bursts out in a fit of cackles.

Behind Akiren, the girls, minus Futaba and Sumire, stand behind him, all with varying expressions from defeated, embarrassed, and holding in laughter.

“For the record, we didn't force him to wear this. Once we managed to convince him that wearing his Shujin school uniform is not appropriate attire to get married, he suggested a wedding dress. Despite us explaining it's not necessary and a Tuxedo will do just fine, he was already picking out dress options, so we just went along with it.”

“He also pulled black lipstick and curly black hair extensions out of his pocket and ominously claimed “My time has come.” He wouldn't give us an answer as to where he got them from, I can only assume they've been in his pocket all day.”

Akechi just lets out a defeated sigh, and facepalms. Oh, that's right. His soon to be husband is a fucking dumbass

A lovable, amusing, cute, undeniably sexy dumbass, but a dumbass all the same. But—--he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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sundeathh · 1 year

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hi!! i really love your writing style so much omgg, could i request something where reader (who is aizawa’s s/o) is being mind controlled maybe by a villains quirk idk it’s up to you HAHHAHA and they’re basically just forced to fight aizawa? the ending is up to you!

i’m so sorry if this sounds weird or doesn’t make sense at all 😭😭

Hahah, your request is not weird at all, I actually loved it a lot! Sorry for the looong delay, my schedule have been full lately and I am crazy about perfection. So, I hope you enjoy it!

A heartbreaking fight

One-shot | Request | Masterlist

Pairing: Aizawa × GN!Reader | Words: +2,5k

Fandom: BNHA | MHA | CW: Violence, blood mention, cursing.

Aizawa stumbled backward, the first rays of dawn casting an ethereal glow on the scene he had before him. He felt the ache deep in his bones, his body weary from hours of tireless patrol. The moon, a pale sentinel in the sky, hung overhead, a silent witness to the battle that had just unfolded.

His breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with the cool morning air. Blood trickled down his nose, staining his trusty scarf. With a weary swipe of the back of his hand, he wiped it away, his gaze never wavering from the figure before him.

The figure moved with an unnatural grace, the darkness of the night still lingering around them. Aizawa squinted, trying to make out their features in the dim light. Shadows danced around them, casting an eerie aura as if the night was reluctant to release its hold.

Despite the exhaustion seeping through his bones, Aizawa remained resolute. His eyes narrowed, determined and focused, as he squared his shoulders. The first rays of dawn illuminated his face, emphasizing the determination etched into his features. He then knew he had to end this, not just for his safety but for the person who stood before him.

As the light of dawn revealed their features, Aizawa's heart clenched with fear and anguish. It was none other than the one they had both shared laughter, tears, and countless moments of happiness with. But now, their eyes were empty, devoid of recognition or warmth. Now controlled by a villain's quirk, reduced to a mere puppet in their hands.

Aizawa's mind raced, desperately searching for a way to end this nightmare without causing any harm to the person he cherished. Every fiber of his being fought against the reality before him, where they were turned against each other. His opponent, a petty villain reveling in their newfound power, knew precisely what they were doing. They understood the psychological torment it inflicted on Aizawa and the one he held dear.

With sadistic glee, the villain taunted him, their voice echoing through the dawn-lit silence. "Get up, Eraserhead," they sneered, their words a cruel distortion of his loved one's voice. The villain's hold over them was a sickening reminder of the danger they both faced.

Aizawa struggled to his feet, his body protesting every movement. He could feel the weight of his injuries, but it was nothing compared to the weight in his heart. He couldn't bring himself to fight back against the person he held dear, even under the villain's control.

He gazed at the marionette-like figure drawing closer, their hand poised to strike. Aizawa's voice trembled with desperation as he pleaded, "Please, stop. Don't do this. Remember who you are. Remember us."

His words hung in the air, filled with love and pain. Aizawa fought to suppress the instinct to flinch away, to protect himself from the inevitable blow. He clung to the hope that his words would reach their true self, buried beneath the villain's influence.

And they did. You stopped inches from his cheek, your fingers hovering over the skin. Your hand was shaking, but whether it was because of your fear or rage, Aizawa could not tell for sure. He had never seen you so angry before. You were never this angry with him before.

But well, you were not entirely you now.

Aizawa felt a pang of anguish as he looked into your eyes, witnessing the turmoil within. He could see fragments of your true self flickering behind the veil of the villain's control. Desperation welled up inside him, urging him to break through that barrier and reach you.

Tears welled in your eyes, mingling with the confusion and anger stamped across your face. "Are you okay?" you asked, your voice laced with hesitance and concern as your gaze fell upon his bruised face. Aizawa's heart ached at the sound of your voice, now tinged with the lingering remnants of the villain's influence.

"I'll be fine," he managed to say with a half smile, his voice thick with emotion. "But right now, I need you to hold on. Fight this, even if it feels impossible." He stated.

As the villain's grip over you weakened, their frustration and desperation grew evident. So, they tried to manipulate your body again, urging you to attack, but Aizawa intercepted your movement with swift precision. He caught your fist in his hand, exerting just enough pressure to remind you of his presence without causing you harm.

Now in the grip of his capture weapon, you struggled against the restraints, your face contorting with anger. But through the fury, Aizawa saw glimpses of vulnerability, of the person he loved fighting to break free from the shackles of control.

"Stay still. Please," Aizawa pleaded, his voice laced with desperation and tenderness. His gaze bore into your eyes, willing you to hear his words. "I can't bear to see you hurt, not like this. There's still a part of you that cares, that doesn't want to cause harm. Hold onto that, okay?"

A tear slipped down your cheek, mirroring the heartache that Aizawa felt. The sight of your pain only fueled his determination to save you, to help you reclaim your true self from the clutches of the villain's quirk.

"Why would I?" you responded with anger and bitterness evident in your voice. "I don't care about this fucking body." The words cut through the air, tinged with defiance. But beneath the surface, Aizawa could sense the war waging within you, the struggle between your true self and the puppet strings pulling you in different directions.

Aizawa's grip tightened around you, his hands trembling with fear and determination. He couldn't bear the thought of you hating him for what he was about to do, but he knew deep down that it was the only way to protect you from further harm.

"Please don't hate me..." he whispered, his voice raw and filled with anguish. Every fiber of his being screamed against his actions, but he couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment. Your safety was paramount.

The sight of your bloodied hands, both with his blood and yours, served well as a painful reminder of the violence that had consumed the moment. Aizawa's heart sank. His gaze was fixated on the glassy and unfocused look in your eyes. It was a haunting sight, a terrible contrast to the vibrant spirit he had come to know and love.

The realization that you had lost control – that the person who owned your mind had taken away your autonomy; sent shivers down Aizawa's spine. It terrified him to his core. He couldn't let this continue. He couldn't stand idly by, watching you suffer.

So in that agonizing moment, time seemed to slow down for him. His mind raced with desperate calculations, seeking a solution to free his lover from the clutches of the villain's control. Every fiber of his being rebelled against the notion of causing you harm, but he knew it was a necessary sacrifice to protect you.

He made a split-second choice, his movements swift and determined. With a sudden surge of strength, Aizawa lunged forward, his forehead connecting with yours with a resounding thud; the impact reverberated through his skull, a painful collision of wills. His muscles strained as he willed for that impact to be enough, hoping it would send you to unconsciousness.

As you slumped forward, falling against Aizawa's chest, he held you gently, his hands cradling your body. The alleyway fell into an eerie stillness, broken only by your labored breathing. Aizawa couldn't tear his gaze away from your face, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

The conflicting emotions within him threatened to consume him entirely. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, his body trembling with the aftershocks of the adrenaline that had fueled his actions. He found himself questioning his own sanity, wondering how he could ever reconcile the love he held for you with the pain he had just inflicted.

Silent tears traced down his cheeks, blending with the sweat and blood staining his face. He held onto you tightly, vowing to protect you at all costs, even if it meant sacrificing his sanity in the process;

After a few seconds, Aizawa rose slowly, his head pounding and his body aching from the previous ordeal. Determination burned in his eyes as he scanned the area, searching for any sign of the villain. His voice reverberated with anger and defiance as he challenged the unseen foe.

"Show yourself, you coward!" He bellowed into the silence, his voice echoing through the alleyway. "Come out and face me! Or are you too scared to confront me directly?"

The air grew heavy with anticipation, the silence hanging thick in the atmosphere. Aizawa's heart pounded painfully in his chest as he awaited a response, but none came. Instead, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps drawing nearer, each step like a ticking time bomb, intensifying the tension in the air.

Aizawa took a few – cautious steps back, his body instinctively preparing for the imminent clash. His arms felt heavy, drained from the previous struggles, but he refused to let fatigue slow him down. The villain was probably exploiting his weakened state, and Aizawa couldn't afford to falter.

As the footsteps approached, Aizawa's muscles grew tense. The sound was eerily light and deliberate as if the villain was using his body for stealth. Aizawa had learned early on that this adversary was highly trained, and he couldn't afford to be caught off guard. He knew all too well the consequences of underestimating an opponent.

Finally, the villain emerged from the shadows, a malicious smile stretching across their face. Aizawa's gaze narrowed, his body coiled like a tightly wound spring. He met the villain's gaze with unwavering determination, refusing to show any signs of fear.

"So, Eraserhead," the man taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic delight, "what do you say we settle this little issue of ours once and for all?"

Aizawa's lips pressed into a thin line, his silence speaking in volumes. He didn't know the true intentions of this confrontation, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty – if there was any chance for this conflict to end without further bloodshed, it rested in the defeat of this villain.

His eyes flickered briefly towards your unconscious form lying on the ground, a surge of protectiveness flooding his veins. The villain's callous words only fueled Aizawa's determination, igniting an inferno within him. This fight wasn't just about his survival; it was about protecting you.

Meanwhile, the villain eyed his unconscious significant other lying on the ground. "Can't believe you knocked them out so mercilessly…" the villain chuckled, "you should thank your partner for sparing your life. I'll give you some credit, Eraser."

Aizawa locked eyes with the villain, his gaze unwavering. "You have no idea what mercy is," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice laced with a potent mix of anger and resolve. "But mark my words: I'll make sure this ends here."

Aizawa's grip on his capture weapon tightened, his knuckles turning white. The villain's words echoed in his mind, fueling the fire of determination that burned within him. He refused to let this adversary's twisted perception of mercy go unchallenged.

The tight street seemed to shrink as the tension reached its peak. Aizawa took a step forward, his movements deliberate and measured. His eyes never wavered from the villain's gaze, the intensity of his focus a testament to his unwavering resolve.

"You think you understand mercy?" Aizawa's voice carried an icy edge, cutting through the dawn air like a blade. "You have no concept of what it means to spare a life. I won't let you taint their memory with your sick version of salvation." Every word dripped with venom, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor Aizawa typically displayed.

But this was personal now – personal for him and you. The concept of the villain's grip on your mind and your body was unbearable. He would put an end to it, no matter the cost.

Aizawa's muscles tensed further, ready to spring into action. He knew he had to outsmart the villain, turn the tables and reclaim control of the situation. He couldn't afford to hold back any longer.

With a sudden surge of determination, Aizawa lunged forward, his movements swift and precise. He unleashed a barrage of attacks, utilizing his capture weapon with expert precision. The distinct sound of fabric tearing echoed through the buildings, punctuated by the villain's grunts of pain.

But the villain was cunning, adept at evading Aizawa's strikes. They retaliated with calculated moves, each blow aimed to exploit Aizawa's exhaustion and weakened state. It was now a battle of wills, a fight for dominance.

Aizawa refused to let despair creep in. He drew upon his training, his instincts honed through years of experience. He analyzed the villain's patterns, anticipating their every move: each strike became more precise, more determined, as he pressed forward, inch by inch.

As the fight raged on, time seemed to distort. Seconds felt like an eternity. The combat was like a symphony of raw power and unyielding determination. Aizawa's heart pounded in his chest – each beat a reminder of the stakes at hand.

As the battle reached its crescendo, Aizawa's resolve hardened. He channeled every ounce of his being into one final, decisive move. With a resounding thud, the villain crumpled to the pavement: defeated.

Aizawa stood over their fallen form, his chest heaving with exertion. The dawn fell into a heavy silence, broken only by his ragged breaths. He glanced at your unconscious figure, relief flooding his weary soul.

"It ends here," Aizawa whispered – his voice a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. Then, he knelt beside you, his eyes filled with relief and tenderness.

Gently, he cradled your head in his hands, his touch conveying both strength and vulnerability. "No one will ever control you again," Aizawa murmured, his voice filled with unwavering determination. His fingers brushed against your cheek, tracing a soothing path. "I promise."

Those words hung in the air, carrying a weight of sincerity that resonated deep within your unconscious mind. Aizawa's gaze lingered on your peaceful face, his heart aching with the memory of the battle and also; the love he held for you.

With care, the hero scooped you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. He rose slowly, his movements cautious, as if carrying something infinitely precious. His scarf draped around you, offering warmth and protection, as he started to make his way out of the alleyway.

Every step he took was deliberate, focused solely on ensuring your safety. Aizawa's determination radiated from him, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to shield you from any remaining threats.

Silently, Aizawa traversed the moonlit streets, his eyes scanning for any signs of danger as the cold air of the dawn ruffled his dark hair. The weight of the battle still lingered on him, but in his arms, he carried hope and the unwavering promise to keep you out of harm's way.

As he stepped into the main road, Aizawa's gaze flickered skyward. Stars shimmered above, a reminder of the world beyond their current turmoil. He held onto the promise he made to you, the promise to guard you against the shadows that threatened to consume you.

"I'll keep you safe," He whispered, his voice carrying the weight of his unwavering devotion. "No matter what."

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! Check the fixed post for requests.

#aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #bnha aizawa #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #bnha fanfiction #bnha headcannons #mr aizawa #aizawa sensei #aizawa shouta #aizawa shōta

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fantasyinvader · 1 month

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The detail that Dimitri was viewed as a folk hero when he was in his murder-hobo phase is another detail that link him to Liu Bei.

The historical records don't paint Liu Bei and the Shu Kingdom in the best light. Liu Bei, for instance, often betrayed his benefactors as he rose to power, eventually calling himself emperor and holding up the reunification of China. However, records at the time were heavily biased towards Wei, as Wei's successor Jin emerged victorious.

Yet Liu Bei and his allies were remembered as folk heroes.

The answer is simple, while Cao Cao had his good points (such as him punishing crimes committed by his own generals/officers. He's also often depicted promoting meritocracy, and was an accomplished poet. On one occasion, he forgave a rebel because the guy only rebelled against him to protect his subordinates rather than out of hatred to Cao Cao), Cao Cao was a tyrant who had a tenancy of committing massacres whenever someone upset him. It wasn't a one-off thing like Romance of the Three Kingdoms paints it as. In addition, him making the last Han emperor his puppet and ruling through him (it was his son who disposed of the emperor) is a big no-no under Confucian thought whereas Liu Bei openly declaring himself Emperor is a lot more reasonable.

The people did not like Cao Cao. There's a tomb in China speculated to be his, and the evidence seems to suggest his body was defiled around 50 years after his death iirc. And at the time, as people fled from Cao Cao Liu Bei made himself out as the main force opposing him. The underdog, champion of the people. And it's because of that people passed on stories of Shu, defying history being written by the winners, and this was taken further with Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

Guess this would make the Alliance Wu, Claude being a Sun Quan would make sense. Sun Quan would align with either Liu Bei or Cao Cao depending on the circumstances so that his region may remain independent, but over time his ambitions grew but was never able to make a go of his invasions of Hefei.

Granted, the thing is I could go either way of Edelgard being Cao Cao or her being Sima Yi, Cao Cao's strategist who founded of the Jin dynasty after turning on Cao Cao's successors. I almost think that Thales is more a Cao Cao, using Ionius as his puppet and having long overseen the Empire's decline as part of his plans. In a way, Thales has really been the one running the show from the shadows, making it more like Agartha. Edelgard turning on him after the war, seizing full power for herself and changing how succession worked would fit more with Sima Yi, but it was those changes that led to the War of the Eight Princes (namely, dividing up the Empire and giving the Princes each a piece like King Leer... which would explain the reference in the Alliance kids). It's very different from Edelgard's reforms, which consolidates power on the Emperor who can appoint anyone they want as successor.

Though the flaw in that system is pretty easy. Anyone named successor will have a target on their back for anyone wanting power. If the successor isn't publicly named ahead of time and the Emperor dies unexpectedly, than even if they left a note saying who should lead can be disputed which is what we see happen in Fodlan's history with the death of King Klaus with the note saying the throne goes to the most beloved prince by the people... which was forged by Klaus's sister to put her preferred prince on the throne.

The detail that Dimitri was viewed as a folk hero when he was in his murder-hobo phase is another detail that link him to Liu Bei.

Yet Liu Bei and his allies were remembered as folk heroes.

There's also the fact that Sima Yi is presented as the rival to Kongming. As I've said before, Rhea seems to be the Kongming figure, but Edelgard was designed to be a rival for Byleth. Byleth, who is a Nabatean, spends five years asleep and then either ends up as king/queen or as an advisor to Dimitri. Zhuge Liang, or Kongming, was also known as the Sleeping Dragon and served Liu Bei.

Jin is seen as a successor state to Wei, making Edelgard’s empire the successor state to Agartha. It may figure into the devs referring to Silver Snow as the Empire route, the Empire kids taking back their home from Agartha while going against the moral decline Thales created, making Edelgard and Flower out to be the real fourth faction. They’re also going back to the roots of the Empire, the founding principles of it while aligning with the Church, like a what-if restoration of the Han(the founder of the Han dynasty, Liu Bang, is often said to have looked like a dragon and promoted the Confucian beliefs the Mandate of Heaven is based around. His reign was said to be a golden era of Chinese history, much like the Byleth/Rhea ending. Liu Bang also started out as a peasant)

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seyfertgalaxy · 2 years

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Collector analysis again! but small.

So, i believe that Collector does not enjoy turning people into puppets. i saw this idea thrown around a bit, and i think i agree with it. He uses more as a "punishment" than anything, really. but a harmless one; one he finds will keep them safe and sound.

Like with Lilith and Hooty! Lilith called King her nephew, something that Collector was not fond of. so, while sending a moon toward her to puppetify her, Hooty jumps in and gets hit instead. so Collector goes back for a second shot to actually get Lilith like intended.

I also was wondering if Hooty didn't do anything wrong, why didnt Collector fix it? Well, i figure theres two reasons for that. One: He needs puppets to play pretend with, and/or Two: Hooty helped Lilith when she had done something wrong(in his eyes).

He has an angry expression while doing this, yet a calm one when explaining how they're safe and not hurt. That Is His Form Of "Discipline". for now, at least.

or with Terra! whenever she insults King, that's whenever he turns her into a puppet. Angry expression, yet again, and his words: "you're not being very nice right now".

And to add on to this being discipline, Terra says this:

"Play along, and you won't get turned into a puppet. do your role correctly. " Also, when he holds up the moon, her reaction is anything BUT glee and cheerfulness. So, he knows it negatively affects people(this was also shown with Lilith's reaction to Hooty).

it also vaguely reminds me of whenever the Collector was in the mirror thingy. he was trapped and couldn't really do anything since he was a shadow. and these people, as puppets, are technically trapped and can't do anything. this one is a stretch, i think, but it makes some sense.

and onto how he speaks about Eda in this scene...

He's speaking about replacing Terra for the "real thing" because who can play Eda better than Eda herself? He clearly has a liking to Eda. He kept Terra around longer out of anyone because she's playing the role of Eda. He tried his best to explain her role to her—multiple times. When he's describing Eda to both Terra and King, he's very passionate about it. Smiling and excited! But he can't play with her because he thinks that she's still the owl beast. I think the awe comes from how King spoke about her to explain "The Owl House Game." Because he clearly had to speak about her to explain the game, as he did with Luz. i wouldn't be surprised if thats how King originally described Eda to Collector, and they just ran with it. or maybe they made that connection themselves based on how King spoke about her! both are plausible.

However, this admiration would not stop him from disciplining her. He says this:

He may have been talking about the Owl Beast in specific, but either way, he was meaning Eda.

Now, i can't say for certain why everyone else was turned into puppets(other than the other adults, because I'd say that was because they were attacking along with some of the students). But these were also his spies, not him himself. though that's what we saw.

And given that this kid would turn someone into a puppet for saying the wrong word, anything was possible! (i saw like two people say he did that because he saw "nephew" as a threat because of Belos and Hunter)

But he obviously doesn't like doing it, and typically only does it whenever he's angry or feels threatened. But hey! it seems to be better than what the other Collectors would do! as seen in the book, i feel like if they were to do something like this, it would end with a lot of actual harm and probably even murder. which does make me nervous for the next episode, but!! we'll see what it actually means, probably

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mcntsee · 1 year

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Decade

Summary: Kaz Brekker x sister! reader. Facing the aftermath of crows’ departures, a dangerous job was proposed, tensions rose, and Kaz’s façade wavered and a sacrifice was made. Based on this request.

Warnings: Sacrifice, violence, grief, “death”, Kaz is ooc at one point

Y/n and Kaz stood at a crossroads, both literally and metaphorically. The sprawling city, a web of treachery and ambition, seemed to mirror the shattered remains of their once-undefeatable crew. The passage of time had etched lines of experience on their faces and shadows of pain in their hearts, leaving Y/n to bear witness to the transformation of her brother, Kaz, into a colder, more enigmatic version of himself.

As each crow had departed, Kaz had grown increasingly desperate and reckless. Inej had set sail to find freedom on the open sea, Wylan and Jesper had left the criminal life behind for a “normal” existence, and Nina had been taken from them after the heart-wrenching loss of Matthias. With each departure, Kaz’s grasp on control seemed to slip, his grip on the world loosening as if trying to reclaim the pieces that had been stolen from him.

The glint of determination in Kaz’s eyes had given way to a consuming darkness. A storm of unresolved emotions that raged beneath his meticulously constructed façade. Each separation had chipped away at the carefully crafted armor he had worn for so long, leaving raw wounds that festered in the shadows. His desperation, once buried deep, now oozed to the surface in the form of reckless schemes and increasingly dangerous jobs.

Y/n had borne witness to this transformation, watching as her brother’s demeanor grew colder and his tactics more extreme. The warmth that had once lingered in his gaze when he looked at his fellow crows had faded, replaced by a calculating edge that had been honed in the crucible of their struggles. Kaz had become a riddle even to those who had known him best, his actions driven by a relentless pursuit of control and vengeance.

The dimly lit room seemed to hold its breath as Kaz’s voice wove intricate tales of danger and deception. The details of the new job hung heavily in the air, but Y/n’s growing unease was impossible to ignore. “This sounds like a suicide mission.” she had finally blurted out, her voice a mixture of frustration and genuine concern.

Tension crackled in the air, an electric current charging the atmosphere. Kaz’s gaze bore into Y/n’s, his defiant expression a reflection of the turmoil that churned beneath the surface. Their words clashed, leaving wounds that cut deeper than any blade.

In the midst of the storm of words, Y/n’s voice softened, a tremor of vulnerability threading through her words. “I miss the old you, Kaz.” she confessed, a sense of longing in her voice. For a fleeting moment, the impervious façade that Kaz had constructed wavered, revealing a glimpse of the brother she had once known. “That version of me is dead, Y/n.” he replied, a touch of sorrow tainting his words.

The charged exchange reached an impasse, marked by an intriguing directive. “Meet me outside the club in three hours.” Kaz commanded, his words heavy with an unspoken weight.

Their rendezvous led them to ascend a towering building, the sprawling panorama of the city unfolding below them. With each step, the weight of their shared history pressed upon them, the bond that had once united them now stretched thin. The rooftop awaited, a stage where the threads of fate were manipulated by Pekka Rollins, orchestrating a cruel and twisted dance.

The confrontation erupted in a sudden burst of violence. Guards emerged from the shadows, their movements swift and practiced, ensnaring Y/n and Kaz in an iron grip. Pekka’s grin held a malevolent gleam, a puppet master relishing his control over their destinies.

Pekka positioned Kaz in front of him, the barrel of a gun trained unwaveringly on Kaz’s form. Y/n was restrained across from them, held captive by a guard’s steely grip. A chill crept down Kaz’s spine as Pekka’s grin twisted into a sinister snarl. “I’ve had enough of you, you barrel scum.” Pekka spat, his words dripping with venom. The unmistakable click of the gun’s safety being disengaged sent a shiver through the room, the sound amplifying the threat that hung in the air.

Y/n’s heart raced as the tension reached a fever pitch. In a moment of heart-stopping determination, she lunged forward, her elbow connecting with the guard’s nose with all her strength. The guard staggered back, blood streaming from his nose, and for an instant, the grip on Y/n loosened.

With an adrenaline-fueled burst of energy, Y/n sprinted towards Pekka, her eyes fixed on the gun pointed at Kaz. The guard reacted quickly, his gun drawn and fired. The first shot found its mark, striking Y/n in the shoulder. Pain exploded through her, but she pushed on, her resolve unbroken.

The second shot seared through her calf, a fresh wave of agony crashing over her. Yet, fueled by sheer determination, she continued her charge. With a surge of strength, Y/n launched herself at Pekka, a whirlwind of determination and fury that shattered the room’s fragile balance.

Their bodies collided, a tangle of limbs and desperation, as Y/n tackled Pekka over the building’s ledge. In that split second, the world seemed to freeze as Pekka’s eyes widened with shock. The wind howled around them as they plummeted, the abyss below consuming them.

Kaz’s senses sharpened as a heart-stopping clarity settled over him. “No!” he roared, his voice a raw and desperate plea. His heart thundered in his chest, his eyes locked on the figures plummeting into the abyss. His sister—his world—disappearing into the endless darkness.

As Y/n fell, a whirlwind of memories swirled through her mind. Moments of shared laughter, secret confidences, and the unbreakable bond she shared with Kaz danced before her eyes. With a final, steadying breath, she closed her eyes, embracing the unknown that awaited her.

Kaz’s gaze remained riveted on the void, his knuckles white as his fists clenched. He strained to catch a glimpse of Y/n’s form, his silent prayer echoing in the night. But as seconds stretched into an agonizing eternity, a cruel reality settled over him. She was gone. “No…”

Ten years had passed since that fateful night, a decade of shadows and whispers that wrapped around Kaz like a suffocating cloak. In the aftermath, he had become a phantom, rarely seen beyond the confines of the Crow Club's walls. He had exacted vengeance upon each of the men who had played a role in Pekka's ambush, leaving a trail of death in his wake. But the weight of his sister's sacrifice lingered, an indelible scar etched into his soul.

He had returned to the Crow Club that night, his movements robotic and his demeanor cold. Locking himself in his office, he had shut himself away from the world for months, consumed by a maelstrom of guilt and grief. Jobs became an afterthought, the thrill of the heist no longer able to fill the void that had been left behind.

However, a decade later, Kaz had finally mustered the courage to venture into Lij to meet with a contractor. The air hung heavy with memories, each step a reminder of the past he had tried to bury. As he navigated the streets, however, he found himself haunted by visions of his sister—fragments of her, an older version, lingering at the periphery of his vision. He dismissed them as figments of his tormented imagination, a cruel trick his mind played on him.

After signing several contracts, Kaz found himself wandering the market, surrounded by the hum of life that continued to thrive even in the face of his own despair. It was there, amidst the bustle and noise, that he heard a voice call his name—his real name, not the alias he had adopted to shield himself from the world. He spun around, muscles tensed, ready to face a threat. But instead, he was met with a sight that sent his heart into overdrive—Y/n, standing before him, her smile a bittersweet echo of the past.

Kaz's breath caught in his throat, his mind a whirlwind of disbelief and confusion. He muttered something under his breath, his voice wavering. "This is not real. You've lost it, Brekker." His instinct was to retreat, to put distance between himself and the haunting apparition that stood before him.

Yet, Y/n stepped forward, her gaze unwavering, and spoke words that cut through the walls he had built around himself. "You'd think after ten years my brother would be happy to see me again." Her words held a lightness he had long forgotten, a playfulness that once defined their relationship.

In that moment, something shifted within Kaz. For the first time in his life, he found himself battling the ghosts of his past, his fears, and his overwhelming need for control. His brain urged him to flee, to escape the impossible reality that seemed to mock him. But there was something different this time—an ache in his chest, a yearning for the connection he had lost.

Y/n's smile was a lifeline, an anchor in the storm that raged within him. In a swift motion, he disregarded the barriers that had once kept him safe. With a vulnerability he had long suppressed, Kaz closed the distance between them and enveloped Y/n in a hug—an embrace that was both desperate and tender.

Y/n laughed, the sound a melody that echoed through the market. She hugged him back, the weight of a decade's worth of absence and longing evaporating in that simple gesture. While their bodies were locked in the embrace, Kaz's voice trembled as he finally uttered the words that had haunted him for years. "I thought you were dead."

Y/n's response was soft, her hands gently cupping his face as she drew back slightly. Her left arm trembled, a detail that didn't escape Kaz's notice. Her words were an invitation, a lifeline thrown to a brother who had long been lost in the darkness. "Let's have some tea and catch up?" she suggested, her voice carrying a warmth that melted away the years of isolation and pain.

Kaz nodded, a simple gesture that belied the torrent of emotions surging within him. For the first time in a decade, he allowed himself to lower his guard, to let go of the fears and ghosts that had held him captive. As they walked side by side, the bustling market around them fading into the background, Kaz dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, he could find a sliver of light amidst the shadows.

Y/n began to walk, and Kaz followed in her wake, a hesitant anticipation in his steps. Before long, they reached their destination—a modest house that held the secrets of his sister's life over the past ten years. Y/n attempted to unlock the door, her left arm trembling once again. He stepped forward, a silent offer hanging in the air. "May I?" he asked, his voice gentle. Y/n's smile was her response as she handed him the keys, her gratitude evident in her gaze.

As they entered the house, Kaz's eyes roved over the surroundings, each corner a tableau of memories he had missed. He moved from picture to picture, his gaze lingering on each frame as he studied the portraits adorning the walls. His sister and a man stood in one photograph, their smiles frozen in time. He continued his exploration, his eyes tracing the presence of the same man in several portraits. There was a story woven within the frames, one that begged to be unveiled.

His steps carried him to a picture of two children, their innocent faces frozen in a moment of laughter. He opened his mouth to inquire about their identities, but before the words could escape, a cacophony of joyous voices shattered the silence. Two children burst into the room, their boundless energy a stark contrast to the years of solitude Kaz had endured.

"Ma!" they exclaimed in unison, their arms reaching out to embrace Y/n. She welcomed them with open arms, the love in her eyes a testament to the years they had shared. As the children released their hold, the older brother pointed at Kaz and asked a question that tugged at the corners of Kaz's lips. "Who is that, ma?"

Y/n's laughter filled the room, a melody that danced upon the air. "That would be your uncle Kaz," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of mirth. Kaz's gaze shifted from Y/n to the children, his heart a mix of awe and surprise. The younger of the two gasped, his small hand covering his mouth as realization dawned. "You have the same name as me!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Kaz, this is Jordie,” said y/n while pointing at the oldest who in response gave a shy wave, “and this is Kaz.” she said while pointing at the youngest. Kaz found himself speechless for a moment, his mind swirling with emotions that defied description. The sight of his nephews, the legacy of the family he had believed to be lost forever, left him humbled and amazed. With a steadying breath, he knelt down, his movements deliberate as he met the gaze of the two children.

"Can I get a hug?" he asked, his voice soft but sincere. The response was immediate and joyful, a chorus of laughter and footsteps that rushed towards him. Small arms enveloped him, their embrace soft but firm none the less.

As the echoes of their joyful laughter began to fade, Y/n gently turned to her children, her voice filled with warmth. "Why don't you two go upstairs and play for a while?" she suggested. Without hesitation, the young boys bounded away, their laughter and excitement filling the air. With a shared glance, Y/n and Kaz watched them go, a silent acknowledgment of the profound moment they had just shared.

"Tea?" Y/n's voice broke the stillness, the simple question carrying a sense of normalcy amidst the extraordinary circumstances. Kaz nodded, his gaze lingering on her as he made his way to the table. Y/n quickly prepared the tea, her movements deft but accompanied by the persistent tremor in her left arm. She placed the cups on the table and settled down beside Kaz, the fragility of her condition at odds with her unwavering strength.

Kaz's eyes shifted from the tea to Y/n's arm, his curiosity piqued. "Why is your arm shaking so much?" he inquired, his voice carrying a note of concern. Y/n looked down at her trembling arm, her fingers gently tracing the path of the trembling. Her words were soft, carrying a weight that only a decade of silence could give. "It hit one of the rocks in the water when I fell ten years ago." Her fingers moved in a soothing rhythm, a gesture of self-comfort as she spoke the words that had haunted her.

"Nerve damage," she continued, her voice tinged with resignation. "Hasn't stopped shaking since." Kaz's gaze shifted from her arm to meet her eyes, the concern etched on his features palpable. He regarded her with a mixture of understanding and compassion, a silent acknowledgement of the pain that had woven its way into her life.

His next question was gentle, a gesture that sought to bridge the gap between the years they had spent apart. "Does it still hurt?" he inquired, his voice low and tinged with a vulnerability that he had rarely shown. Y/n's response was honest, her eyes holding his as she offered a glimpse into her reality. "Some days more than others," she admitted, her words a testament to the resilience she had cultivated over the years.

As they sipped their tea, the room seemed to embrace the fragile peace that had settled between them. Y/n's eyes held a genuine curiosity as she turned the conversation toward him. "What have you been up to in these past years?" she asked, her voice gentle. Kaz's response was measured, his words guarded yet filled with a quiet certainty. "Just casual business."

The exchange led to a shift in the conversation, and he inquired about her life with equal curiosity. Y/n's smile held a hint of nostalgia as she began to speak of the man she had met—Ezra. His name resonated in the air, a key to unlocking the chapters of her life that had been hidden from him. "We got married," she explained, her gaze distant yet filled with a quiet contentment. "And a little while later, came the kids."

In the quiet of that moment, as the teacups sat forgotten between them, the years of separation seemed to fade into the background. The echoes of a past that had haunted them both began to soften, replaced by the tentative hope of a future that held the promise of healing and renewal.

@thescorpioscrow I changed some stuff, and for that I apologize. Writer’s block was not helping me. Hope you still enjoyed it!

#fanfiction #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #angst #fluff #kaz brekker #oneshot

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wanderpastme · 1 year

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Apple Of My Eye Chapter 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

This is also on Archive

Roses are red, violets are blue, I have depression and you do too

I SEE YOU MENTALLY ILL BITCHES BLOWING UP MY POST

I personally make this up as I go, I don’t know what I am doing, so seeing all the support is really heartwarming.

Also, CW TEETH

Slowly cracking open your eyes, you were assaulted with a barrage of color, making you wince slightly, maybe it was better to keep them closed.

Slowly you could feel your senses return to you, slightly fuzzy around the edges, but at least you could think again.

Think… again?

Where were you?

Your eyes suddenly snapped open, the bright environment around you making your headache come back tenfold.

With a groan, you rubbed your eyes, determined to keep your senses about you.

Pushing yourself up from your laying position, you looked around you, hoping to find something at least familiar to ground your growing panic.

You were laying in a plush bed, that looked almost too soft to be real, a colorful quilt spread neatly on top of you. The rest of the room looked like a normal bedroom… if not slightly cartoonish in nature. Everything was so bright and almost rounded, the edges of your vision giving it a fuzzy effect.

Where were you?

Glancing through the window to your right, you could see the world below, but it made even less sense than the bedroom itself. Everything looked so… soft.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you stepped forward on shaking legs, reaching out to open the window.

Had your legs always felt this weak? Come to think of it, your entire body felt… off, your mouth dry as if filled with cotton.

Pushing lightly on the window, it opened outward with no resistance, as if it knew what you wanted.

A soft tune filled the once-silent room, accompanied by the sound of birds. Soft rays of sunshine warmed your face, and the air almost smelled sweet.

“Oh, Neighbor! I’m so glad you’re awake!”

Your whole body froze, your heart racing madly in your chest. You knew that voice. The TV. The static. It was all coming back to you in waves.

Your hands uncomfortably gripped the edges of the windowsill, the only thing keeping you from falling to your knees once more. How had you not heard him come in?

Soft velvet hands pulled you back from the sill with ease, as if you weighed nothing.

“Come now… you need your rest” His voice purred in your ear, his velvety voice laced with a threat.

Carefully you were set back on the bed, your gaze glued to the swirling pattern of the rug below you. You could feel his eyes burning holes into your own, his soft hands keeping a tight hold on your arms as if demanding your attention.

That only made you want to avoid his eyes even more, stubbornness had always been your weakness.

The pressure on your arms only intensified with each passing second, until you were wincing in pain.

“Nei̸g̵ḣ̵̙̍b̸͔̱͋o̴͈̮̟͛̋́͜͠ṛ̶̹̟̹̊́” There was a warning in his tone, the slow fill of static in the room making that clear.

Slowly you looked him in the eyes, his shadowed face immediately fading back into his usual smile, the pressure on your arms disappearing into a caress, the soft sounds of outside returning.

His beady black eyes pulled you in like quicksand, keeping you pinned down to the spot.

“Oh, Neighbor~ how pretty you are!” His smile was sickly sweet, “I’m so glad I could keep you as pretty as the day I met your wonderful eyes”

A look of confusion must have flooded your face, because he continued, “Oh don’t you remember?”

Pulling one of your hands to his face, he nuzzled into your light blue palm.

Light… blue?

Snatching your hand from his grip, you looked down at your body in horror. You were blue… not only that, you were a puppet! A puppet! Pulling the thin nightshirt from your body, you peered down at yourself, each second making it harder and harder not to hyperventilate.

You wanted to scream.

“Shhh, Neighbor”

Your eyes darted back up to your kidnapper, the one who had done this, a smug smile on his lips.

“You!”

You lunged forward, ready to rip his stupid styled hair right off his head.

Invisible pressure suddenly surrounded your neck, cutting off your air supply, making you grasp your neck uncomfortably. Razor-sharp pinpricks of pain littered your neck, almost like something was biting down on you. Hot Tears blurred your vision, your lungs screaming for air.

Soft hands pulled your attention back to your captor, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

“Behave yourself… we wouldn’t want you getting hurt…”

Suddenly the pressure was gone, leaving you there to cough and gasp for air, tears running freely down your face.

Pulling you into his chest, your kidnapper stroked your hair affectionately, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

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nekohime19 · 2 months

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Macaque study # S2

Alright, let's go for Macaque analysis in season 2!!

After Macaque's introduction episode we got a pretty one dimensional frame with a very manipulative villain who got some past with the Monkey King. This is our impression of Macaque, and the fact he's cool (at least that's my impression).

Shadow powers are cool and Macaque animation, imagery, soundtrack and fight sequences are very cool!

Let's see what season 2 brings to this one dimensional frame. Do we get to see some nuances already? Or is he still the same villain?

Season 2 ep7

Season 2 is the continuation of season 1 in the sense that the show keeps its episodic nature and keeps introducing MK's new powers, even if we do have an underlying plot with LBD.

Macaque appears in episode 7 (“Shadow Play”) which already by the title, if you remember Macaque gimmick in s1, you can get an inkling about who's gonna be the focus here without watching the episode in itself. But what is interesting this time is that MK's friends are involved with Macaque. Whereas in season 1 Macaque's episode was focused on MK, Wukong and Macaque and the other characters only made a brief one minute apparition, this time more of the main cast is here!

What I think is interesting from the start is, very much like s1 ep8, the episode starts with MK having a confrontation. This time it's not with Wukong but with Mei and Tang who mainly complain about how MK don't spend much time with them anymore. It's interesting how Macaque's episodes in s1 and s2 always start with MK arguing with the people he cares about and somehow creating a wedge between him and those people. In s1, Macaque used the wedge and tried to widen it, we'll see what he does about the wedge this time.

Also, even as a joke, I think it was so funny to have this parallel :

Wukong being the action-phased movie and Macaque the more traditional theater play is such a funny contrast. It goes with what they're portraying of themselves to others really.

What I really like about this episode is how Macaque's aesthetic with the shadows is emphasized, the animation really delves deeper in the unsettling, almost creepy feels of the shadows. We got doors that close by themselves, things that move in the dark and under the seats, puppets that move by themselves. We really dig into the horror movie aesthetic with this one and even the characters feel it, they're scared of this.

Macaque without even being on the screen yet already puts the mood. What I find interesting is that contrary to other villains like LBD who are naturally scary because of the way they are

Macaque is scary because of what he's doing with his shadows, because of the shows he creates. Without the moving shadows, the doors which close by themselves, Macaque is not that scary, by that I mean the way he's animated, the way he carries himself is not as scary as let's say LBD. Macaque put on a show to be scary. In my opinion, that shows how Macaque put on a mask to be something he's really not, to appear as a villain when in reality he's way more nuanced than that. He's acting. In s1 he was acting and lying the whole time, acting like a hero in front of MK, acting like Wukong's comments didn't bother him during the final confrontation.

He's always acting. And he keeps doing so in s2. You can see in both seasons he's smiling a lot but in the later season his smile will be more and more rare, making you wonder if this cruel smile he had since the beginning is also just a part of the act. I'll go back to Macaque's smile in s3 bc oh boy this monkey smiles a lot even when he's tortured by LBD.

Now, let's talk about the shadow play and what we can get out of it, and what it means.

The first part of the shadow play :

Macaque : Welcome viewers to a shadow play the likes of which have never been seen. It follows the tragic tale of a legendary warrior and how those who bring light in this world inevitably bring darkness to those they hold dear. Like light heroes bring warmth, hope and friendship but they also give life to the darkness.

So, a lot to unpack already.

First the fact that Macaque qualifies Wukong as a “legendary warrior” when the word “warrior” is more or less reserved to Macaque, makes you wonder if in this particular sentence Macaque is not talking about Wukong but himself. “It follows the tragic tale of a legendary warrior and how those who bring light in this world inevitably bring darkness to those they hold dear.”, if we go with the interpretation that the legendary warrior here is Macaque (despite the image showing Wukong) then the connotation “tragic tale” makes more sense, considering Macaque perspective is skewed and he will sees what happened to him as “tragic”and it is less likely for him to qualify what happened to Wukong as “tragic” when he has so much trouble recognizing what Wukong endured in the first place.

Of course, the mention of light and darkness is a reference for both Wukong and Macaque. Macaque is always insisting on how Wukong is not perfect, how the hero is not flawless, how light cannot exist without darkness. Macaque wants to destroy this image of the flawless hero Wukong portrayed for so long but he does not take into account that mayhaps this image wasn't created by Wukong himself but by the people around him. And perhaps, in a way, he tries to connect himself to Wukong by saying that light and darkness goes hand in hand, even if unconsciously.

The mention of “those who bring light in this world inevitably brings darkness to those they hold dear” is, I think , a very salty line. It's the world vs loved one conflict for heroes. The “I'll sacrifice you for the world” type of thing that I think Macaque is very salty about. Wukong chose the world instead of him. On the contrary Macaque is personally more of a “I'll sacrifice the world for you” type, and that's why he's so salty about this. There is a clear confrontation between the terms “world” and “those they hold dear”, Macaque is putting “bringing darkness” to the heroes' loved ones as a consequence of “bringing light to the world”. For him it's inevitable, which speaks volume of how he thinks his relationship with Wukong went, he's putting the blame on what happened between them on Wukong hero status.

The idea that Macaque said of heroes giving life to the darkness is clearly an implicit way to say that Wukong created him. Which is not wrong, if we go with the interpretation that Wukong killed Macaque, but Macaque is denying so much of what Wukong lived through right now. His perspective is really skewed.

Macaque : The hero and the warrior were like the sun and the moon. Their light a protective glow shining upon the world. Together there was nothing that could stop the two of them. Either in the celestial realms or on earth. As time went on the hero attained power beyond comprehension as the hero’s light grew so too did his shadow and soon the warrior was cast in that shadow. In the darkness the warrior was forgotten by the hero.

Again, a lot to unpack. Macaque stops trauma dumping through theater.

Clearly, Macaque's view of his past relationship with Wukong is very unhealthy. He qualifies them as the “sun” and the “moon”, as two being in perfect harmony. We can see how the “world” is separated from this balanced duo. Macaque, in his head, didn't need anyone but Wukong. They were two beings against the rest. It was Macaque and Wukong against the world. The brotherhood is not even mentioned which spoke volumes about how Macaque felt, he never valued the brotherhood, we'll see that more in s4. What causes the imbalance between the hero and the warrior is “power”. I think we can easily agree that Macaque is talking about Wukong's search for immortality and the battle against the Jade Emperor. Wukong's search for power broke the balance between Macaque and Wukong. Again Macaque mentions the darkness and how Wukong casted him there, I think it's a lil unfair to say this because Macaque was naturally placing himself in Wukong's shadow already (but we'll see that in s4 again). We can see Macaque's fear here : being forgotten by Wukong. And I think he still has this fear inside of him and perhaps that's one of the reasons why he tries to get Wukong's attention so much by taunting him and trying to rile him up.

Also, calling someone the “sun”obviously speaks volumes about how much you admire this person. You can't call someone the sun without at least putting them on some sort of pedestal (perhaps it's because I love shadowpeach but I see some romantic implications in there, but again you do you).

In between the shadow play we can see how Wukong's absence is putting pressure on MK, he believe he sees Wukong when in reality it's just one of Macaque's shadows.

After the play, we have a montage of MK with the Shadow play in the background and MK relating to the warrior.

This shot of MK touching his shadow is clearly a way to convey how MK relates to the warrior casted in the shadows. Monkey King leaving makes MK feel as if he's inadequate, MK deals with a lot of insecurities about this, about being right and worthy and it pushes him away from his friends.

When Macaque confronts MK and MK realizes that, yes, it was Macaque all along, what I find interesting is that once again Macaque brings Wukong in the conversation. Saying how now that Wukong is not here Macaque should teach MK a lesson. Macaque cannot help himself but brings Wukong into this even when Wukong is not here. There is also the “one and only” line that Macaque uses to reveal himself, a call back to Wukong's “one and only” line in the pilot episode when he introduced himself.

After this, Macaque and MK fight and once again the choreography of the fight is so cool. But once again, Macaque is stealing so much of the spotlight. He cannot help but comment on everything even when he's not in the frame, his voice is always ringing. Really, each time we got a scene with Macaque this guy is at the center of it, he's acting, and he's acting so good he grabs your attention.

Now what Macaque says is pretty self explanatory : MK is abandoning his friends. The “classic hero manœuvre” comment really shows how bitter Macaque is about heroes because of what happened with Wukong.

Now, while there are parallels between Macaque and Wukong, there are also a lot between Wukong and MK.

First the way they're both pressed down by shadow clones and uses golden vision to escape :

Second is when MK pounced on Macaque. The images used here are actually also used in season 5 during the very brief flashbacks we get about Wukong and Macaque fight.

So while Macaque's lesson is more than shady, there is some basis of truth in his accusations. MK really ressemble Wukong on a lot of things. They both really care about the people they love and will do anything for them. Wukong lost himself with this purpose and in some very asshole-y way Macaque is trying to prevent this with MK.

What I think is also interesting to consider in this episode is if Macaque planned this so-called lesson or if he simply took the opportunity when he saw MK and his friends and perhaps eavesdropped on their conversation at the beginning of the episode (where MK's friends were complaining about MK distancing himself). We know the team went to the Shadow Play because they saw a poster and the play was always going to be about the “hero and the warrior” considering the illustration on the poster. But did Macaque manipulate them into coming or was it just a lucky coincidence is never really answered. At the beginning of the episode we see other people in the theater so I might be inclined to think it was a coincidence. Would Macaque really create a whole shadow play and advertise it to the town just for teaching a lesson to MK? If Macaque simply took the opportunity to teach MK a lesson it might explain why he feels so confusing in this episode : the lesson was not planned but the result of an impulsive action after hearing that MK was distancing himself from his friends and perhaps seeing the shadow of Wukong in his behavior. In fact, Macaque might not even know why he's doing this but hides it really well.

MK also has some flashbacks of LBD during the fight with Macaque, while I think it's a form of PTSD I also suppose it could mean the way Macaque took away his friends and are controlling them reminds him of LBD and his fear of LBD doing this.

What confuses MK and us as an audience and makes us think : Okay maybe Macaque wasn't doing this just to be a jerk. Is when Macaque blocks MK's staff. He could have easily won here but instead he chose to stand down and free MK's friends which is a very confusing thing to do for a supposed villain.

Even MK doesn't understand Macaque's motivations.

In truth, Macaque never really gave away his motivations even if we can heavily speculate about it. The only thing he says is : “I kinda wanted to do the whole watching the hero be tormented by their own mistakes thing but seems like you’re already doing this by yourself”. But if Macaque's only goal was to torment MK then why would he talk about “potential”.

Macaque (at the end of the fight) : you're right, that is enough. You know you really are that bit too much like him but it's good to see that there is some potential.

I think this line betrays Macaque's true intentions, it's not all about tormenting MK (even if he pretends it is minutes after the “potential line”) it's about MK not taking the same path as Wukong, if it’s out of care for MK or out of fear of another Wukong being created is still debatable.

Unlike in s1 where Macaque used the wedge between Wukong and MK to his advantage and tried to widen it, here instead Macaque is trying to make MK realize the wedge between him and his friends, no matter how badly and how asshole-y he does it.

It's perhaps here that MK realizes Macaque is a more confusing individual than he initially thought and that's why he goes after him even after getting his friends back. MK is still very snarky with Macaque but there is some sort of comprehension when he points out how Macaque was the warrior in the story. Macaque even warns MK about LBD in his own very ambiguous way, he even does a call back to s1 with the “You can never have too many teachers” line, again a lil spite directed towards Wukong when Wukong is not even here.

I think this is a very important detail, MK realizing Macaque is confusing and maybe not as one-dimensional as he thought he was. It's important for MK and for the audience.

While Macaque is still very much a jerk AND a villain here, the fact that he did not finish MK, that he did not finish the fight despite having the ability to do so. The fact he's trying to teach a lesson, no matter how shady it might be, the fact he's even warning MK about LBD makes you think : yeah, he's maybe not fully bad.

Macaque said there is some potential in MK, well when you see this episode you say to yourself maybe there is some potential in Macaque too, to become better.

At the end of the episode you get Macaque’s reaction against the not-mayor. Again I think this scene is pretty telling on Macaque's relationship with LBD.

The purple who was the dominant color quickly turns blue to indicate that Macaque is not in control anymore despite this being his domain, his episode. In image 2, the smile Macaque has can fool you if you don't see the lil sweat on his forehead, this is a sign of nervousness. For the first time since we have been introduced to Macaque in LMK, Macaque is nervous. Macaque wasn't nervous against Wukong yet he is right now against the not-mayor, not because of the not-mayor but because of LBD behind him. The fact that Macaque is smiling as a sign of nervousness really hints you already about his coping mechanism. It'll be more relevant and more present in s3 but it is interesting to notice how Macaque works to keep fear at bay (I'll talk more about it in s3). The not-mayor literally strangles Macaque. I think there is no better way than this physical act of violence to show that Macaque is not very willing to go with LBD. The use of colors, blue background/blue not-mayor and purple Macaque, really highlight Macaque's feelings about the situation and how he's very unwilling to go but is not in control anymore, everything around him turned blue. This is an important fact, and of course Macaque not being willing doesn't excuse his actions later in s3, but it does add to Macaque potential for redemption.

So what can we say about this episode? We learned a lot about Macaque's feelings for Wukong and their past relationship, at least what he thought happened. And while Macaque still acts like a villain, he does show potential for being better. Showing this potential is really important for the redemption processus, because without these tiny hints of Macaque hidden goodness, or at least the start of goodness within him, the redemption wouldn't have felt genuine.

Macaque is confusing for MK and for us, but he showed us something there, a spark, as tiny as it is.

He's more nuanced than we thought he was in s1 ep8.

It's a lil step in the grand scheme of things, potential without action is wasted, but the fact that the potential is here is to be noted regardless because it will be important in the redemption processus later on.

Also, I like that in this episode MK has parallels with both Wukong and Macaque. He relates to the warrior (Macaque) and fears that Wukong is leaving him behind, but also MK fights like Wukong and acts a lot like him. It shows how MK is really a merge between the two monkeys, he's not exactly like them, but he has some common traits with both of them, which I think is why he will be greater than the both of them at the end of this. After all, the mentee has to surpass the mentors one day or another.

Like the previous post, this is my interpretation of LMK, you can disagree, no problem!

I'll post Macaque analysis in season 3 in another post.

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#lmk #shadowpeach #six eared macaque #lmk macaque #macaque #Macaque study #lmk theory #lmk thoughts #Macaque study s2

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welcome-to-puppet-hell · 23 days

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Ring! Ring! (Part 2) - Wally Darling x Puppet!OC (Character Study)

Content Warning: Paranoia, Wally's ambiguous motivations, Disturbing Imagery, Mind Control (HEAVILY implied), Mind Reading, Creepiness in general

[Direct sequel to this]

I’m still screaming as my eyes snap open, my body jolting up in my bed. My eyes dart around desperately, seeing the brightly painted wallpaper that has slowly become familiar and then the ceiling that had been painted like a night sky full of glowing green stars. Sobs then began to wrack through me, almost drowning out the patter of the heart that still managed to beat beneath felt and fabric. My hands press to the place where it must be, a weak attempt to repress it.

When my breathing and sobs begin to calm, that’s when I become aware of the sound blaring through my bedroom. The sound of a phone ringing.

I blink, my tears blotting to drip down my cheeks. A phone call in the middle of the night? That never happens, not in the Neighborhood.

Despite my anxiety, I slowly get up and walk to the stand. Then I pick it up, once again blanketing the room in silence.

“H-hello?” I say with a swallow. When there’s only quiet, I clear my throat. “Who is this?”

“Sorry, I…I’m just so happy you finally picked up the phone.”

My eyes blink, then I turn to give my phone an odd look. What…? Hang on, I know this voice.

“…Wally?”

Why would he be calling me? He never speaks to me, hasn’t said one word since I walked into this neighborhood weeks ago. For the most part, whenever he’s shadowing Barnaby or any of the other neighbors, he only stares at me with his big eyes and even bigger smile. It’s pretty unnerving, honestly.

So…why?

I’ve gotta know.

“I—”

“Don’t speak,” he says, voice suddenly cold. “Go to the bed, right under the covers. Don’t move until I tell you.”

My frown deepens. I open my mouth to speak again, but then I hear a sound outside that chills me to the bone. The sound of feet dragging against the ground. Huge feet. Right near my window.

“Jamie, now.”

Wally’s voice—like ice and full of…anger?—springs me to action. Dropping the phone to the floor, I run back to my bed and throw the covers over me, turning to look at the wall. My hands tremble as they clench around my blanket, my breathing becoming shallow the closer the feet outside become. Despite the phone not being in my hand, I still hear his voice whispering in my ear. As if he’s curled around me.

“Stay quiet. Don’t even breathe.”

Shaking, I place my hand over my mouth and nose, leaving just enough give so I wouldn’t suffocate.

Suddenly, a light blares through the window, much like a spotlight. I freeze when I sense the light behind me, see the hint of it on the wall. Then, as it starts to shift from side to side, I realize what it is.

An eye. Just how giant is this thing?

…Actually, I never want to find out.

My eyes squeeze closed, all sound becoming this low yet piercing hum to my ears. It hurts, but I dare not move, do anything. Except maybe pray. Just let this end, soon. Please.

I don’t know how long I remain there. Part of me worries that I’ve fallen asleep, considering how closed my eyes are, how deafening the silence is.

Then, finally, spoken from the dropped phone:

“Okay…it’s all okay now, Jamie. You’re safe.”

The breath I’m holding finally leaves me in a rough exhale. My hand goes to my chest as I try to calm my breathing, but I still feel so dizzy. What was that? What’s going on? And Wally—

Wally. How did he know…?

My eyes dart to the phone still on the floor. He’s still there. I don’t exactly know how I know—he’s not breathing or making sounds like it—but he is. Would he answer if I asked?

Only one way to find out.

I get up slowly from the bed and walk back over to the phone. Once it’s to my ear, I drop down to crouch away from the window. Then I clear my throat, but my voice stutters out anyway.

“Wally, w-what was that…that thing?”

Pause.

“A nightmare,” he replies, his tone dim. “One I hope you never meet.”

…That’s not really an answer.

Then again, I should know better. From the few conversations I’ve had with him, Wally has never been really direct when it comes to certain things about the neighborhood. He can say anything about the other Neighbors…but questions like, “What state are we in? Why does Home sometimes stare at me for so long? Who owned my house and my shop before me?” Usually, at those questions, Wally’s eyes cloud over as he stares at me with his frozen smile. And then, he shrugs.

Still. He’s telling me more than I expected. And maybe…I don’t want to know the answer to this question.

I’ll just…add this to my list of newly discovered mysteries in the Neighborhood. A list that has been growing and growing. Not sure what kind of sign that is.

But still, something is bothering me. And while I have him on the phone—well. Can’t hurt to ask, right?

“How did you know I’d be awake?”

“Oh! I didn’t.”

My eyebrows draw downward as my mouth twists. Yeah, that sounds like an absolute lie, straight from a goddamn liar. No matter how neutral he keeps his tone, I’m just not—

“It’s the truth!”

…the fuck? I pull the phone away and stare at it, my heart thudding like a drum inside my chest.

“To be fair, Neighbor, I’ve been trying to call you for a long time. I didn’t think you’d ever pick up the phone.”

My throat goes dry. Ever since moving here, I’ve been having these—weird dreams. Dreams of not only you, but also dreams of this ringing. Ringing from a phone, from within the depths of my mind. Like a memory I kept at the back of my mind, one I can’t seem to remember. Images from those dreams keep flashing through my mind’s eye, particularly of a phone surrounded by dark. A plastic toy phone with dials, much like the one in my house. A phone that always seems to ring.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says, still sounding too innocent. “And you happened to be the first neighbor I called!”

I lean back against the wall near my window. “Did you know it’d be there? When I woke up?”

“No,” he says, his voice hinting at a tremble. “It doesn’t always show up. But I know it doesn’t like when we’re awake.”

“…W-what does it do when we’re awake?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Suddenly, I feel so cold all over. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and squeeze it, trying to get the warmth of the wool to bleed into me. God, this neighborhood just keeps getting weirder and weirder. My only mistake was thinking all the weirdness was coming from the neighbors alone, and that the weirdness couldn’t really hurt me.

It all makes me so tired. How am I supposed to do this…? I just wanna go home. I wanna go back to you, to the life we had. Are you even looking for me? Is anyone…?

I don’t realize that I’ve started crying until Wally speaks again.

“…Jamie?” His tone is shaky. Scared? But why? “Are you okay?”

“No. I’m so tired, Wally. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be here,” I croak out, leaning forward with my hand on my forehead. “I just wanna go home. Please, let me go home!”

“But Jamie…you are at Home.”

My hands go to my nose, pinching the bridge with my pointer and thumb. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve never been good with mind games. And I hate being toyed with. And I get the feeling that Wally, he doesn’t want to hurt me. Not really.

“You know what I mean. I know you do. Please, Wally, don’t lie to me…”

“…”

I wait for his response, my eyes sliding closed. Doing this is risky, I know. I still don’t even know what to make of Wally. Is he a friend? An enemy? Part of me wants to believe he doesn’t want to hurt me, based on how he’s behaved since I got here. But I know for certain now, that he isn’t as oblivious as the other neighbors, no matter how monotone or innocent he sounds.

Whatever is going on here, he isn’t just on the level or in the know. He’s not even caught in the middle. He’s neck deep in it.

“…That doesn’t mean I can give you what you want,” he interjects, not unkindly. “It doesn’t mean that I’m in charge.”

I swallow. Who is, then? Or, perhaps, what?

Wally doesn’t answer that question, but he does continue to speak.

“I think that’s enough excitement for you tonight, dear Neighbor. It’s time for you to sleep.”

Something about his voice freezes me in place, making my mind feel all fuzzy. Suddenly, the exhaustion I feel isn’t just emotional. It’s a weight on my eyes, on my shoulders—on my whole body. I’m filled with an intense desire to go to bed, one that I acknowledge in a floaty sort of way.

“Yeah, you’re…you’re right,” I say, my voice sounding so foreign to my ears. So empty, vacant. Is that really what I sound like? I feel my body start to sway in place, almost weightless. “I’m so tired…”

“Get into the bed, Neighbor. Things will be better in the morning.”

(Will it?)

“Promise?” comes out of my mouth instead, my voice almost childish.

“I promise,” Wally says, his voice soft but emphatic.

…Yeah, that feels enough for me. I’m too exhausted to fight anyway.

So, finally giving in, my body sways to one side and I end up falling back into my bed. A giddiness bubbles from me the second I land. How did I get here so fast? It was at least a few feet away, no?

Oh, well. It doesn’t matter. The pillow below my head is so soft and the bed is so warm. What even happened? Did I actually see something? Why was I so worried? Why did I even have that nightmare? I’m safe here.

(Am I?)

Yes. Yes, I am.

My eyes flutter a bit before finally shutting. And as my breathing slows, darkness takes over once more—but this time, as a comfort.

Not long after, my blanket lands back on my body, engulfing me in warmth. Then someone whispers in my ear.

“Sleep well, neighbor.”

Wally lingers at the window, his eyes glued to your house. Staring straight into the window of your bedroom. His hand is lifted in the air, lingering with all his fingers spread and bent, like a puppeteer handling strings. He stares and he waits, his expression like stone and his eyes never blinking.

Finally, with a hum of satisfaction, he curls his fingers back into his palm and lowers his hand to his side. Then he folds both hands behind his back.

“Good,” he says. “That was a close one, no?”

Frantic creaks of doors and cabinets echo through the walls of Home. Wally turns slightly from the window to look behind him, wearing a blithe smile.

“Don’t worry, Home, I know what I’m doing. When they wake up tomorrow, they won’t even remember what their nightmare was about. Or our conversation.”

More creaks. Some clashing of dishes from the kitchen. Wally isn’t offended though, instead he only nods in understanding.

“If you must tell him, just report that I’m only doing what I’m told. Keeping an eye on the neighbor, making sure they follow the rules and that they’re following the script given to them. That’s all.”

Another creak, this time in warning.

Wally turns entirely and stares up at Home, his expression stoic. And then, with a squeeze of his eyes being closed—only for a moment—he starts to laugh, the sound hollow as it reverberates through the house.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha…”

When his eyes open, Wally’s gaze remains sharp as he regards Home’s ceiling. His hands unfold behind him and rest against the window sill as he leans back, keeping his body right in front of the view towards your house—towards you.

“Home, please. I’ve been doing this for long enough. You don’t have to remind me,” he says, his voice cold in its shrewdness. “I know where my loyalties lie.”

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