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ceilidho · 6 hours ago

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Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 4 | masterlist

There’s nothing else to do but pretend it didn’t happen.

In the morning, you’re surprised to wake up and find him in the bed next to you, still covered in old sweat and dried cum. You suppose even in your sleep you’d unconsciously expected him to avoid the incident altogether—wake up extra early to shower while leaving you alone in the bed, giving you a modicum of privacy to digest the situation and its repercussions on your own.

He does no such thing.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John rumbles, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Feeling alright?”

Dangling precariously over the edge of oblivion. Some kind of abyss. The kind that says you might not like what’s down here, girlie, but still you sit by the edge and kick your feet.

“Yeah,” you croak, and Lord, your voice is hoarse. Scratchy and rough, like it’s been dragged over sandpaper.

“Good.” He lets his hand rest on the curve of your cheek for a second before pulling it away. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll shower after.”

The bed groans under his weight when he sits up, throwing his legs over the side before rising to his feet. You quickly avert your eyes at the sight of his naked backside, hairy there as well. A bear all over. Even his yawn reminds you of one. And the way that he stretches his arms overhead and every bone in his upper body cricks and cracks, the sounds of age manifold.

You scrub yourself with shaky hands in the shower, gnawing at your bottom lip when you spread your puffy folds to find his cum still slightly tacky inside of you. Very bad. Scooping as much out as you can with your fingers, watching it run down the drain. Very bad indeed.

John has breakfast on the table when you come downstairs and it seems, somehow, uncouth to just tell him you want to go home. So instead you force yourself to sit and eat, glad that he at least agrees that it isn’t the time for conversation.

At the door, he sees you off with a hug, watching you from the door until you reverse out of his driveway and drive off, waving as you leave.

“This is really bad,” you whisper to yourself on the drive home. “Really, really bad.”

Despite the morning after, the night you spent together is never explicitly spoken about. It’s not a ‘thing’ you discuss by any means. No sit down conversation, no awkward allusions to it, no talking around and around the events until the exchange becomes unbearable. It simply blips out of existence as soon as you change into your old clothes and John walks you to the door, seeing you out.

You still show up the next day, as usual. Nothing’s changed except everything, but it feels taboo to even mention that things feel different.

The world hasn’t radically changed since you accidentally slept with John, but it certainly feels that way sometimes. In the few delicate hours after leaving his house, you were sure he’d call at any moment to tell you that your services would no longer be required—that he’d send your last check in the mail before parting ways. So sure of that, in fact, that you’d put your phone on silent for hours before mustering up the courage to check your missed calls later that evening.

Only a few texts from friends. No missed calls from your employer.

He doesn’t fire you. He certainly doesn’t treat you any differently the next time you come to babysit. You still get paid every week—though, admittedly, the money makes you feel a little weird now after sleeping with him, but it’s not like you can just turn your nose up at making rent—and everything else in your life stays exactly the same. If you weren’t now acutely aware of the feeling of your boss coming inside you, you might even think you dreamt it up.

Still, despite John never bringing it up or even alluding to sleeping with you, there’s still a sense that he—

The soft, affectionate thanks, hun that he gives you when you bring him a glass of water on the rare day he comes home early to work out in the garage makes you shiver.

His need to touch increases tenfold, matched only by his proprietariness. He must feel like after what you did together, it’s nothing for him to squeeze your thighs when he tells you that you did a good job with the baby or hug you extra tight when you’re about to leave.

If you’re extra shy around him, he doesn’t remark on it.

You’re levelheaded enough to know that he shouldn’t be so touchy with his younger female employee—his babysitter no less—especially after what happened, but it’s not as though he treats you like sleeping with you is a given. When a week goes by and nothing happens, you almost relax. Almost. Enough to let your guard down.

But—

You can’t stop thinking about it though. It runs through your head every hour of every day, made worse by the fact that you see him six days a week, Sundays excluded. Sundays being your one day off, which you no longer look forward to but rather dread because Sundays mean no baby, no park, and no John Price.

So, you follow his lead and pretend like it didn’t happen.

You think it’s past you; a terrible mistake that’ll never happen again until it happens again.

Eight o’clock at night and the blue light from the television has begun to strain your eyes. Baby sleeping upstairs—you put him down a few hours earlier without much of a peep; had to check on him a few times, but otherwise the baby monitor sitting on the end table hasn’t so much as crackled, leaving you no choice but to doze off on the couch.

When the door opens, it startles you awake.

“Mr. Price?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and clearing your throat.

John’s there when you twist around to peek over the back of the couch, filling out the door frame. Dishevelled after a long day’s work, his beard even more grown out than when he left earlier in the morning. A bit rougher around the edges, the day leaving its mark in the slight dark circles under his eyes and the set of his jaw, which only relaxes when he lays eyes on you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, I…the baby’s been asleep for awhile, so I just thought I’d—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you’ve got it under control.”

“Let me just get my stuff and I’ll be out of your hair—”

He cuts you off with a wave, toeing his boots off at the same time. “No, no, no—you stay there and finish your movie. I’m gonna grab a drink and join you.”

There’s not much more you can say to that. Instead, you watch him take his bag upstairs to put away in the bedroom before you hear the sink turn on. Running water.

You carefully avoid looking at him when John comes back downstairs, the creaking steps signalling his descent. He heads to the kitchen without stopping by the living room first. The light switches on with a click. The fridge door opens and bottles clinking together when he roots around for something to drink.

And then you hear him make his way back to the living room.

The unspoken pact to not bring up what happened the last time you spent any alone time together imbues you with a false sense of security. Part of you expects him to take the single recliner next to the couch, if only to put some distance between the two of you.

Except when he comes back into the living room, he plops right down in the middle of the couch like always, close enough to you that you’re forced to scoot away, pressed up against the arm of the sofa. You shiver when he cracks open his beer and takes a swig, resting his arm on the back of the couch with the can held in a loose grip.

“What’re we watching?” he asks, blatantly adjusting himself to get more comfortable on the couch. Even soft, the outline of his cock is visible through his trousers.

You stare over at him nervously, unblinking.

“Sweetheart?” John prompts when you don’t answer.

“Oh, um…” You clear your throat again. “It’s just a Hallmark movie.”

“Cute. Well, we can keep it on. No sense changing it now.”

It’s tense for a little while. You keep your hands folded in your lap like a good girl and your eyes on the television. So you can’t stop inhaling the heady scent of tobacco and vanilla. So you can’t stop blinking your eyes, each blink heavier than the last until they spend more time shut than open. So you yawn and burrow deeper into the cushions, your head tipping back and nearly jarring you awake when you lean too far and topple over the side.

When you lean the other way and start to doze off on his shoulder, he pulls you onto his lap. You squirm, initially resistant, but he shushes you before you can put up a fuss.

“Just don’t want you to drool on my shirt,” he teases in a low murmur, smoothing a hand down your side and then it’s lights out for you.

You wake to a blunt intrusion at your entrance. Half-awake and squirming, you vaguely feel him rub the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, teasing himself. The second you squirm just a little too much, he uses that little bit of movement to push the tip in. It pops in without much resistance; then the slow, methodical press inward, your walls squeezing around the thick length thrusting up into you.

“Wha—” you whimper, keening when a big hand glides up your chest to squeeze a tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“S’alright, baby, it’s just me,” John murmurs, his voice right in your ear.

You come to gradually and then all at once, aware of your back pressed to his clothed chest and your legs spread around his, your ankles hooked around his calves. Skirt rolled up and panties pushed to the side, one of his arms locked around your waist like a seatbelt to hold you in place.

“John, I’m—we c-can’t do it again—”

“Sorry, honey,” he apologises into your neck, kissing the area he just spoke into. “Had to be inside you again. S’all I’ve been able to think about since you came on my cock the other night. Promise it’ll be easier this time, okay, baby?”

He guides you down his length until he bottoms out, slick lips kissing the base of his dick. The pressure is overwhelming; in your belly, in your throat, in your head. Heart beating a million miles a minute. Walls throbbing around his length, thicker and heavier than you remembered.

All you can think of now is the last time he had you like this, legs spread for him and pussy dripping wet. Taking his cock all sleepy and sweaty under his giant comforter, whimpering into his neck.

It’s not as frantic this time, no rush to the finish line. He seems to like just burying his cock in you while he plays with your breasts, pinching and plucking your nipples until they’re pebbled and sore. His hands aren’t particularly soft either, callused from years of hard labour. When you whine and try to push his hands away, he shushes you again, not paying your protests any mind.

“Fuck, these are pretty,” John praises, staring down at your tits from over your shoulder. “No, baby, jus’ watch your show. M’gonna use your pussy for a bit, okay?”

It’s just that it’s—

When he lets go of your breast to play with your clit instead, you melt, any resistance going up in flames. The heat fans over your cheeks, your eyelids too heavy to lift, vision blurring even when you try to focus.

He helps you grind your hips down on him, big hands like manacles on your waist. Little undulations of your hips. Short, shallow thrusts that keep you both right on the edge, drenching his lap with your juices. When he gets bored of playing with your clit, he switches back to your breasts, pawing at them and then bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth.

Any time you get distracted by what he’s doing, he stops, holding you down on his cock and coaxing you to focus on the television in front of you instead.

When he jiggles your clit, you seize up, heart hammering in your throat.

“Good girl, c’mon—jus’ like that.” John presses a hot kiss to your temple, arm tightening around your front to keep you close. Sweet talks you through your orgasm, all vaguely paternalistic and patronising in the best and worst way.

He makes you lean forward so he can bounce you on his dick after, your hands braced on his knees to keep yourself upright.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah—”

“Almost there, honey, jus’—fuck, perfect, yeah, tighten up like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He comes with a strangled moan, still cognizant enough to keep the volume down even if you can’t. Shuttles you down onto his cock a few more times until you’re filled to the brim with cum.

In the aftermath, he sits you back against his sweat-matted chest and pushes his cum back into your sore cunt with his fingers when it dribbles out. Ignores your wounded little sounds like they’re just background noise. He even makes you suck his fingers to clean them up, the digits coated in your combined juices.

“Best fuckin’ girl,” John growls, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. Your fingers twitch feebly in your lap.

Pretending like it didn’t happen after the second time around doesn’t seem wise, but still you don’t know how to broach the subject.

Especially since you know it’s going to happen again.

John doesn’t say it outright, but his actions speak for themselves. An arm looped around your waist casually in line for coffee. Paying for the two of you in any situation, you having your own source of income be damned.

“It’s my money anyway, sweetheart,” he says when you point that out. “Might as well just pay now.”

And doesn’t that just send you into a tizzy, head spinning and mouth agape. Embarrassingly so.

Not to mention you still have this strange, sycophantic need to please him, even after everything. The complicated nature of your relationship aside, it still makes your heart flutter to hear him praise you for anything.

That’s how you end up in his bed on a Saturday afternoon, taking a nap with him after a long day out in the sun. Two hours spent at the botanical gardens, the sun beating down on your head, lathering sunscreen on the baby’s sensitive little arms and legs, and swiping it over his cheeks. John sporting a mild sunburn near the collar of his shirt where he forgot to apply sunscreen and when you have the audacity to giggle, he pulls your baseball hat down over your eyes.

It’s almost too easy for him to coax you into his bed, even though you’re adamant about keeping it clean. A hand firm on your back up the stairs. Already yawning when you put the baby down for a nap, so why not take one too? Ushering you into the bedroom when you say you can take the couch, but why, he presses, take the couch when you’ve already shared the bed before?

Well, because the last time—

He draws the blinds shut and climbs into bed, pulling you into his chest.

You wake up to John plastered against your back, bare cock nudging against your cunt while he snores into your neck. You don’t remember him curling up next to you without any clothes on, but he must have taken off his pants in his sleep, now somewhere rumpled at the end of the bed.

When you try to quietly pull away, his arms just tighten around you more, grumbling in his sleep. The sound makes you freeze, going quiet as a mouse. A few more minutes go by before you feel confident enough to try moving again, carefully trying to slide out from his hold.

You wiggle a hand out, reaching for the other end of the bed.

The hand resting on your belly dips low, shoved between your legs and feeling you up before you can do more than gasp. The man behind you gives a short exhale, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, rising out of it like a wave now that he feels something wet under his hand.

“Oh, honey…why didn’t you tell me you needed my cock again? You’re leaking right through your panties,” John rasps, dragging your underwear down to mid-thigh.

A big bear hand clamps over your mouth before you have a chance to protest. There’s nothing you can do to keep his knee from spreading your legs and feeding his cock into your drenched centre with his other hand. As soon as he notches the head against your entrance, it’s a smooth glide in.

“There we go,” he pants into your neck. “Big stretch—ah, yeah, nice ‘n tight. That’s my pretty girl.”

He keeps your legs spread with a hand on the inside of your thigh. All you can do is moan behind his hand, humid breath blowing back around your face as you pant. So hot for it that you’re almost nauseous.

You’re a bit too tight for him to fit his cock in you, so he has to work to stretch you out, bullying another inch into you with every thrust. The angle makes it tricky though; means he can’t get more than half of his cock into you. It’s hardly comfortable for you either, your leg already cramping.

“My leg’s got a cramp,” you whine, unsure of what you want to happen. All you know is that you can’t keep this up.

He readjusts his grip, but that just makes you hiss, wincing when that makes your leg twinge. Suddenly the world spins, the pillows going from comfortably under your head to right in your face, John manoeuvring you onto your tummy and hiking your hips up a few inches. It lets him get even deeper, the angle letting him slide right to the hilt.

“Oh god, oh god—John, I can’t—”

“Shh—you’re alright, honey. Much better like this,” he breathes, settling on top of you. It takes him a second to get comfortable, nudging right up against a sensitive spot inside of you the whole time, so deep you can almost feel him in your throat.

He weighs a ton on top of you, rutting between your thighs like he can’t hold himself back, his self-control snapping like brittle glass. Bristly beard chafing your neck when he buries his head to suck on the tender skin there, smothering you under his weight. Thighs trapping you in place, your memory jumping back to that time at the beach, but now there’s nothing between you. Just a thick cock pounding into you and moulding you around its shape.

His hips slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewdest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Gonna make sure it takes this time,” John grunts. “Wanna take care of my baby so bad? I’ll give you a couple to mind.”

That rattles you right to your core; shakes you to the foundations of who you are. You don’t know what to think, what to say—tongue tied and loose lipped all at once. You’ve let him come inside of you so many times that if it hasn’t taken already, surely it will soon.

It slips out before you can take it back. “D-daddy, please—”

That makes him lose his mind. Just a bit.

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Again.”

He wedges his arm under you to curl his hand around your throat, tilting your head out.

“Daddy—daddy—please, I wanna come—” you pant, repeating the same word until it sounds like nothing, tongue puffy in your mouth.

His dick slips out at some point and he wrenches himself off you long enough to wrap his hand around himself and slap it against your ass a few times, cum tagging your skin. Your breath catches in your throat, whining when you clench down on nothing. One stroke after repositioning himself and he’s all the way back in, hammering the spot that makes you go cross-eyed and squeak.

“Make daddy another baby, okay, sweetheart?” It’s not sweet. It’s not doting. It’s growled into your ear like a demand, punctuated by the way his hips snap forward, nearly sending you into the headboard.

You’re practically an old hat at taking his cum now, squeezing up when you can feel it coming and giving him a nice little treat. He sinks his teeth into the back of your neck when he does, muffling the sound roaring out of him, and it hurts.

He’s tender with you after though. Lavishes the line of your neck with soft kisses; murmurs sweet nothings into your ear while you cry fat tears onto the pillow. Even twists and turns so you’re no longer on your back but rather splayed across his chest again, urging you up for a deeper kiss with tongue.

“‘Know you’re tired, sweetie, but this is for your own good,” John murmurs as he wedges a hard thigh between your legs and makes you ride it, grinding your sensitive, throbbing clit down on the muscle. “Can you come, baby? Jus’ like that—that’s good, baby—”

It hurts so good that you don’t even notice when you squirt, the emotions too big for you. It’s like being squeezed too tight, unable to catch your breath or say anything but the same word on a loop. John’s sweet about it though—wipes the sweat from your hairline and upper lip, talking you through it until you slump down on his chest, legs akimbo.

For a bachelor, you think in a daze, he’d make a good husband.

The days grow colder and the sun sets earlier.

A while ago you thought maybe this babysitting gig would be temporary. That at some point you’d move on—maybe go back to school or apply for a more standard nine-to-five job. That’s how the trajectory of your life was supposed to go, you think.

But the timing never seems right. Maybe you’ve grown too attached to the baby or maybe the pay is just too good to give up or maybe you’ve just become habituated to someone getting you off at least every other day. Still, it feels a bit weird to get paid for what essentially boils down to fucking a man and taking care of his baby.

It comes up when you’re sitting out on the porch with him again, this time in his lap in the same adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around you to keep you warm. John laces his fingers through yours, thumb stroking over your finger, burning a line into the skin.

“Doesn’t it make you feel weird to pay me for…” you say, trailing off with a cocked eyebrow. Surely he must catch your drift.

He chuckles. You wait for the joke.

Your eyes must be big as moons staring up at him.

“Don’t think of it as a paycheck, sweetheart. That’s your allowance.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and swallow.

“Okay,” you whisper. Then let him reel you back in for another kiss, his thumb resting over your ring finger and pressing.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #price x reader #price/reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x reader

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ickaimp · 1 day ago

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[Magic Kaito] Scheduling

It's my birthday, so obviously, there should be fic. 700 words, silliness. +++

Saguru wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here, other than the fact that it wasn’t a school night. And, well, Kid. Specifically a Kid Heist Notice. Which wasn’t for another three days. A bit larger of a lead time than normal, but Kid hadn’t made an appearance in several weeks, most likely due to it being the end of the school season and this being the first time Kid had a break to do so. But still, Saguru usually arrived later in the process, not for the initial heist note meeting. His presence was mostly superfluous at them, especially given the straight forward nature of the current note and that Kid wouldn’t be there. “Alright, men!” Nakamori-keibu bellowed and Saguru tried to flinch at the volume. Truely, did everything have time be at high decibel? “Kid has sent us a notice for three days from now at 1800-“

“I really wish he didn’t.” The owner of the large inherited topaz flinched.

Normally gem owners tended to fall into two categories, either having something to hide --usually a fake heist notice-- or attempting to challenge the Kid’s skills. The current target went in a different direction… nervous fussing. “It’s my daughter’s graduation and I wanted to be there.”

“Oh snap.” A familiar voice said from Saguru’s left and he jumped slightly. “Forgot about graduation. Would you like to reschedule?”

The Kid’s voice came from the officer standing next to Saguru. One who was twice Saguru’s age and whom he’d sworn had gotten checked for being the Kid.

“Oh would you?” The mousy gem owner looked relieved.

Kid stepped forward, the Task Force uniform vanishing with a small poof of smoke, to be replaced by the Kaitou Kid’s familiar white suit, top hat, and cape. “Certainly. When would be a good date for you?”

Kid hopped up on the desk, lightly crouching on it as the gem owner pulled out a paper planner, running his fingers across the pages. “How’s the 19th?”

Kid pulled out a phone, checking his calendar as Nakamori made an irate sound. “I’m booked.” Kid reported. “Can do the 17th or 20th though.”

“I’m out of town the 20th-“

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Nakamori bellowed, his face a violent angry red. Kid clicked his finger and held up a finger in the inspector’s direction, the thief’s gaze on his phone as if Nakamori was the one being unconscionably rude.

“-I have work most of the 17th.” The gem owner continued. “But the evening is free.”

Kid made a thoughtful sound. “I supposed that would give me enough time-“

“You could check it now.” Saguru suggested. “Since you’re currently both free.”

Both Kid and the gem owner looked up at Saguru with identical looks of polite confusion. Saguru resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Not everything needs to be a magic show.”

Kid gasped in outrage, one gloved hand pressed against his chest, clearly offended.

“He’s got a point.” The gem owner gestured to the large stone on his desk. “Help yourself.”

Kid nodded, hopping off the desk, picking up the gem and walking over to the window and holding it up to the moonlight. When nothing happened, he turned back and set the gem back on the desk, offering the owner his gloved hand. “Thank you very much, it was a pleasure doing business with you.”

The gem owner shook his hand. “Likewise.”

Kid turned to the officers and gave them a polite tilt of his hat. “Gentlemen.” He said, then walked out the door.

Saguru pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily as no one moved.

“-GET HIM!!” Nakamori belatedly bellowed, pointing to the door the thief had just walked out of. That seemed to startle the Task Force and they scrambled to take off running, several getting stuck in the doorway and preventing the others from escaping.

“Well.” Said the gem owner, looking quite chuffed. “That was exciting.” Saguru rubbed his face with a hand, torn between exasperation and amusement, remembering once again why he attended as many Kid heists as possible. He’d been to crime scenes for years and seriously. Stuff like this only happened with the Kaitou Kid. -fin-

#magic kaito #kaitou kid #hakuba saguru #nakamori ginzou #icka fic

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kathlare · 1 day ago

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out off the bag

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the midst of the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix weekend, Lando Norris faces the unexpected challenge of discussing his relationship with Amelie, now very public after their kiss in Miami. As the media and fellow drivers tease him about the newfound attention, Lando navigates the awkwardness with a mix of humor and genuine sentiment for his girlfriend.

Wordcount: 0.7 k

Warnings: just fluff

May 17th, 2024 - Imola, Italy

The Emilia Romagna Grand Prix weekend had officially begun, and Lando Norris stood on the fan stage in front of a cheering crowd of fans, most of whom were eagerly awaiting to hear about the upcoming race. His usual confidence in front of the fans was there, but there was an unmistakable unease in his posture. It had only been a couple of weeks since the race in Miami, where the whole world had found out about his relationship with Amelie—his beautiful, talented, and slightly chaotic girlfriend.

The kiss they shared at the Miami Grand Prix had gone viral almost immediately, sending social media into a frenzy. And now, just thirteen days later, he was standing on stage, trying to answer questions while also processing the fact that this was no longer a secret. Amelie was a part of his life, a very public part of his life.

Lando took a deep breath and looked at the interviewer, who was smiling a bit too mischievously for his liking. The interviewer, a young man with a sharp wit, wasn’t going to let Lando off easy.

—So, Lando,— the interviewer started, drawing the crowd’s attention with his exaggerated enthusiasm, —I think we need to talk about your… new relationship status. It’s been all over the news after Miami. Can you tell us a bit more about how things are going with Amelie?—

Lando’s stomach did a flip. It was only natural that people would ask about it, but now that it was out there, he wasn’t sure how to talk about it publicly. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He was so used to talking about racing, strategy, and the latest car developments—this felt... different.

—Uh, yeah, it’s, uh… going great,— Lando began, shifting on his feet. —We’ve known each other for a while now. Been good friends for a long time, and, uh, things just kind of happened after we started spending more time together last year. But, yeah, Miami definitely… well, I guess it made everything a bit more public.— He chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood, but the crowd was already roaring with excitement, some fans cheering, others shouting his and Amelie’s names.

As soon as Lando mentioned Miami, the teasing began. Oscar Piastri, who had been standing next to Lando on the stage, smirked and leaned in, nudging him with his elbow.

—Oh, come on, Lando,— Oscar said with a grin, —you can’t just brush off that moment. The whole world watched you two kiss. You really didn’t think you were getting away with keeping it private, did you?—

Lando’s face flushed even more, and he shot Oscar a glare, but it didn’t do much to stop the teasing.

—Yeah, mate,— Alex Albon chimed in from the other side of Lando, his tone dripping with mock sympathy, —you looked like a man in love. Pretty sure I’m still getting tagged in memes about it.—

Logan Sargeant, standing just behind them, couldn’t help but add his two cents.

—You two were basically a real-life rom-com moment. Can you at least admit that?—

Lando groaned, his hands finding their way into his pockets as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. This wasn’t how he expected this whole thing to go.

—Alright, alright, I get it, okay?— Lando said, a nervous laugh escaping him. —But seriously, I’m just trying to talk about the race, yeah?—

The interviewer was clearly enjoying himself, leaning into the banter. He gestured toward Lando and the teasing trio.

—Well, it looks like we’ve got some new fans for Team Lando & Amelie here! But tell me, Lando, what’s it like having your relationship out there for everyone to see now? I mean, Miami was a big deal. There’s been a lot of attention. How are you handling it?—

Lando hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting down for a brief second before he met the crowd’s eyes again.

—Honestly, it’s… it’s weird at first. I’ve been in the spotlight for a long time, but this feels different, you know?— Lando began, trying to find the right words. —Amelie and I, we’ve always been really close. I’ve always admired her, and now that we’re… together, it’s just natural. But yeah, having it all out there for everyone to see is a little overwhelming. It’s not something I ever thought I’d have to talk about so publicly.—

—So what’s the deal with the kiss in Miami, Lando?— the interviewer pressed, smirking.

Lando’s hand shot up in the air in mock surrender.

—It was a spontaneous thing! I mean, we were celebrating, and...uh, well, it just happened! Not everything needs an explanation, right?—

Oscar snorted, shaking his head.

—It’s fine, mate, we’ve all seen it. You looked pretty happy. And I’m sure you didn’t mind the attention. We’ve been getting tagged in Amelie’s posts too, haven’t we? She has a bit of a following herself.—

Alex jumped in with a sly grin.

—Yeah, and don’t forget the constant memes and the romantic captions she puts up. I’m sure she’s loving it just as much as you are, Lando.—

Lando groaned, trying to hide his face behind his hand.

—Alright, alright, you lot are too much right now. Just let me get through this, please? I’ve already said enough about my love life for one day.—

The crowd was absolutely loving the banter, and Lando had to admit, it did make things feel a bit easier. He caught a glimpse of his phone, and for a moment, his thoughts drifted to Amelie. He hadn’t spoken to her in hours, as she was on her way to New York for her Saturday Night Live appearance, but just thinking about her put a smile on his face.

—It’s great though,— Lando added, his voice softening a little. —She’s amazing, and I’m lucky to have her. But we’re both just taking things one day at a time. For now, though, I’ll just stick to racing.— He cleared his throat, trying to shift the conversation back to something more comfortable for him. —Speaking of which, let’s talk about the race weekend. How are you lot feeling about the track?—

The crowd cheered, and just like that, the conversation shifted back to racing, but Lando could still feel the playful teasing hanging in the air. He knew that he couldn’t avoid the subject forever, especially now that Amelie was a part of his world in such a public way.

But at least for now, it was done. And for a brief moment, he could just focus on the race, on the adrenaline of the track. He couldn’t wait for what the weekend would bring.

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whentherewerebicycles · 3 days ago

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ok and now some thoughts about my early experience of parenting.

it kinda rocks... i really like it. i will definitely have a second kid if finances and biology work out. my life is so much better with this little guy in it. the sacrifices so far are mostly minor and are much more logistical than personal. i have to work more hours than i'd ideally want to because there's only one paycheck. i have to try to cobble together more sleep than i used to because i am pretty tired at the end of the day. i can't go to the gym or run an errand or go write at a coffeeshop for a few hours without hiring a sitter or asking my friends to help out. but the tradeoff is i get to be this little kid's mom. he thinks i'm pretty funny and he's interested in everything i do and he calls to me to get me to come over to his mat and talk to him and he likes to grab my face and hold it still so he can study it real intently and when he's upset he wants me to snuggle him until he feels better. i would pick that over getting to run into a store without the stroller a million times over.

i remember reading this book years ago where someone (paulo freire? someone influenced by freire's pedagogy?) recommended that all teachers, no matter how long they'd been teaching, carve out time every six months to reflect on their teaching practices and consider whether those practices were aligned with their core/guiding values as educators. i obviously love this idea because i was born to engage in sustained reflective journaling about my values lol. but also: i do think there's value in setting aside time at regular intervals to check in with yourself about the way you are living, or about whatever you are practicing, whether it's teaching or your work with others or, in this case, parenting. so idk i might try using his birthday and half birthday as time to journal both about my kid and about my own practice of parenting.

do i have a practice of parenting?? that sounds too fancy for someone who is only six months in lol. but i do enjoy thinking about what i'm doing and i like trying to connect the day-to-day choices i'm making to larger principles. i have written about this before but idk i think i am somebody who derives a strong sense of security and groundedness from having a loose framework of guiding values i can refer to when making decisions. and i guess in this first round of reflective journaling i will try to articulate what some of those emerging values/principles are. here we go:

I am making a conscious effort to not sweat the small stuff. there are one million things you can be worried or stressed about in parenting. and there are one million ways you can fall into the trap of thinking that if you just control every single variable nothing bad will happen to your kid. i am trying, inasmuch as i can, to avoid at least a few ways of falling into that trap. i have worked really hard to choose flexibility instead of rigidity when it comes to, for instance, letting other people care for my kid. it's okay if people do things differently than i would - as long as he's safe, he can only benefit from being exposed to different caretaking styles and adapting to different people's ways of engaging with him. i also made a decision early on to not engage with any parenting content on social media (this means ignoring the dozens of insta reels my mom sends me every week lol) and that has been really healthy/good for me. there is TOO MUCH information out there. it is way too overwhelming. you could spend your whole life worrying and i want to spend my life doing other things, like funny accents and comedy bits for the baby.

i am working hard to not interpret other people's parenting choices as a judgment of my own. i really believe that there are lots of different ways to raise healthy, well-adjusted kids. we can make different choices (small and big choices!) and still arrive at the same outcomes. i just really don't want to be the kind of person who takes it personally when people do something differently than i would've! i want to be secure enough in my choices to be able to accept and appreciate a whole range of other parenting styles. i also want to be humble enough to realize that i don't have it all figured out and might learn something from reflecting on someone else's parenting choices. anyway this has been a challenging one as i sometimes DO feel quite judged or shamed by other people's choices. but i also think it's ok to feel that reaction as long as i can keep making space for myself to take a deep breath and think through why i feel like that. idk! work in progress but i've only had six months of practice lol.

i am also trying not to interpret other people's anxieties as anything other than them working through their own stuff. to give one example: i love my mom so much but she is just, like, vibrating out of her skin with anxiety at all times about literally everything. and she has really found an outlet for that anxiety in grandparenting. i get dozens of texts a week about what exercises i should be doing with him and what experiences i should be making sure he has and where i should be taking him and what i should be saying to him and what i should be asking the doctor about and so on and so forth. this obviously could be pretty stressful, and i know that my brother and SIL find it so stressful that it is kind of negatively impacting their relationship with her. but idk i feel like with my mom i spent a lot of my life taking her anxieties personally, thinking that she thought i was incompetent/incapable/irresponsible/whatever. and then at some point in the last few years i was just like oh... this isn't about me at all, is it? this has absolutely nothing to do with me. this is just her fear and her terror of doing things wrong and her overwhelming need to avoid shame, and all of that emotional stuff just happens to be playing out in this relationship because we are close enough that she can lets her emotional walls down and let me see the churning river of anxiety that runs through the heart of her life. i wish that she didn't feel like that. but it's also not something i can fix or change. the only thing that is within my control is the choice not to take it personally, which in turn helps me put some guardrails around it so that it doesn't impact our relationship. idk i think this will probably be an ongoing thing i have to sort through for myself. but also she is who she is and i love her and it is important to me that she be a big part of owen's life. so we will figure it out.

I refuse to optimize my parenting because i refuse to see my child as a thing that needs to be optimized. this is in some ways hard for me because in many respects i am all-in on the very american philosophy that everything can be improved endlessly, including yourself and your family, if you just work harder and care more and give endlessly of yourself to the work. but nope! nope. not for parenting. not for my kid. i want him to have experiences and be exposed to new things, but not so he can "get ahead" or excel in things. i want him to be curious, engaged, interested, flexible, alive to the world, open to new things. i do not care if he is bilingual by age four or has a STEM curriculum at his daycare or goes to a top college or whatever. and i want the choices i make about what we do together and how we spend our time to reflect that. idk he's still so little that this is not super relevant yet but i can feel some of it creeping in.

lastly: i am trying to approach all aspects of parenting with the fundamental belief that i am and will be a good parent. i feel like our culture wants women in particular to spend all their time feeling guilty and inadequate as mothers. we also don't get a lot of external feedback on whether or not we're doing a good job as parents, which i think can make us frantic for validation and riddled with self-doubt over whether we are doing Enough. but i want to just like, try to cut some of that out and just answer it for myself. i'm doing a great job. i'm a great mom. i love my kid and my kid loves me. as i learn more about my child and myself as a parent i will undoubtedly adjust my approach to parenting many times, but making adjustments doesn't mean i was doing something "wrong" or "bad" before. it just means i want to try something new or shift gears a little bit. idk maybe this sounds dumb but i actually think it is proving kind of powerful so far as a strategy for managing parenting anxiety. i just assume that my parenting instincts are reasonably good and will guide me to make reasonably good choices, and if something turns out not to work, i assume i am a good enough parent to figure it out and adapt accordingly.

ok!! good journaling session and now it's time for bed!!

#parenting tag #baby tag

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novankenn · 3 days ago

Text

What If...

Pyrrha was also under the sway of Salem Cinder and Pyrrha love each other (Pompeii)

Scene : Beach of the EverAfter / Paper Pleasers Village

==> @soundkiller0017 What if Pyrrha destroys the paper pleaser village in a anger attack (beacuse she realise that she traded a really good live for a one in survice to a Queen that disent care of her and a manipulative lover) and after destroying the village she is met by a ROYALY PISS, ANGRY AND MERCILLES Jaune, Neo and Team RWBY who would give her a fate worse than death.1Hide replies

==> @watcher-servant The betrayer Spartan had stayed there... left in thought of what just happened. So with strain, she picked up her spear and walked on as much as she could. Coming upon a village, one so fragile so peaceful it only raged her all of this felt like a slap to her choices. So what did she do..she raged the peaceful village she came upon she destroyed...only when she stopped when she realized what she done, she would see a familiar umbrella appear before and it's holder looking very disappointed as a loud and very familiar yell is heard.

==> A/N - No redemption for the Spartan? You all REALLY seem set on me offing this Pyrrha! ==> A/N - In this version... Only Jaune and Pyrrha "fell", though I will do an OMAKE with Neo and RWBY also "falling" in a later post.

She had no idea how much time had past since she found herself near death upon this small stretch of sandy beach. Weeks? Months? Days just ran into each other, as she attempted to heal, and regain her original strength. She felt alone, yet she wasn't. She found herself at odd times seeing things, most notably the wraith of Cinder standing in the shadows of the forest edge. Gesturing for her to follow.

Then there was the more heart breaking ones. The image of her mother standing in the surf, a heart broken look upon her teary face. The exact look she wore when Cinder helped Pyrrha remove her as an obstacle to Pyrrha's relationship with Cinder. Had she made a mistake listening to Cinder's whispered words?

At odd times she also saw Jaune. Kneeling on the sands, just at the limit of her vision. Impaled through the chest with Milo, though these rare visions were accompanied with her seeing the rusted armor clade knight. His sheathed sword held in his hand, standing as if watching her.

Her nights were filled with whispers and nightmares. Words of condemnation, accompanied the angered and hurt looks of her former team and friends. Yet the whispers didn't alone happen during the darkest parts of the night. They also began to happen during her other visions, as well.

"Why?" was all that the figment of her mother would say. Over and over, in a maddening rhythmic cadence.

"Join me. Let us take this place." Cinder's seductive voice would float past her ears, even when her image was unseen. "They are weak... powerless. Show them your strength."

"Why linger here? Why allow the weak celebrate and flourish?" were Cinder's other enticing words. "Why remain here? Rotting away alone with nothing? Honor me. Prove to me the strength that drew me to you, still exists."

Yet, Pyrrha continued. Eking out an existence, as her strength grew, and the voices continued their relentless assault. Slowly of the was it days? Weeks? Months? Her resolve and intention to seek redemption was worn away. An anger smoldered in her heart. Embers of hate aimed at those who had what she had always craved. Acceptance, joy and love. Everything Jaune had taken from her.

Finally feeling strong enough to venture into the forest, she walked away from the specters of her mother and Jaune, to join the wraith of Cinder in the shadows. She felt the touch of Cinder's searing kisses upon her cheek and lips, and with her cold emerald eyes closed she revealed and celebrated the tainted embraces, before opening her eyes and taking the first step on her new jounrey.

The residents and inhabitants of this strange, nonsensical place seemed to reflexively avoid her. Hiding as she passed by. Her burning eyes, and wild unkept mane of flowing crimson a promise of what would happen if they crossed her path. The isolation gnawed upon her, as Cinder's seductive, wanton words eroded any thoughts that did not focus on her injustice punishment and isolated imprisonment. Pyrrha's mind twisted by the ghost of Cinder's venom raged at the loss of her happiness. Of a future with the woman she had given her heart.

Days blurred into one another, and time seem to crawl as she stalked through twisted land. A cruel smile crossed her lips when she found them. A village, of star shaped people. Foolish and cumbersome. The sound of their happy voices, and the sight of the idyllic scene, fanned the flames of rage.

"Punish them. Take what has been taken from you, my love." was the whisper of Cinder's poisonous, tainted words in her ear. "Take, and show them what your pain is..."

It was a slaughter. The razor edge of her spear cleaved the fragile people asunder. Her brute strength, bolstered with absolute burning hateful rage, allowing her to lay waste to all in her path. Her eyes shined at the carnage, her lips twisted with cruel joy as she unleashed her true self upon them. Cinder's venomous laughter following her every step as she unleashed desolation upon the people before her.

"I am Pyrrha Nikos!" she screamed in putrid victory, as she stood in the middle of the razed village. "Hear me, and lament! This world is mine!"

The creak of armor, from her right caused her to turn. Her sick smile becoming cruel, her eyes shining in delight. There he was, one of her tormentors. The liar who promised absolution. He who left her to wallow in misery and suffering.

"Look upon what I am!" Pyrrha cackled. "I am death! I am destruction! Bow knee to me and serve!"

"Disgusting." was his hollow response. "You were given the chance to become more than this disease, hateful creature you are now."

"This is who I am! Why should I deny myself from that which was taken from me? Happiness, love, acceptance! I was robbed of all this!"

"You could have found that all and more if you had followed a true path." the knight replied, while reaching up with his free hand to take hold of his helmet. "Your sins are many in this life and the last. Look upon me... and know..."

"Know..." Pyrrha's words caught in her throat, as the knight's helm fell discarded upon the ground. After several long moments she was able to croak out, "Jaune?"

"Look upon the face or your accuser... your judge... your jury..." with perfect motion, he drew his sword from its sheath, tossing the empty vessel aside without a care. "and... executioner."

Pyrrha was given no chance to respond, as Jaune was upon her in an instant. His blows were precise, and without equal as he unleash impassive, cold, judgement upon her. She railed against his onslaught, but if he was a monster the last time she faced him... now he was akin to demon.

She used all her skills, ever tactic, trick and tool at her disposal, yet she was found wanting in all regards. With a missed attack, Jaune gave Pyrrha an opening, that she desperately took. It was a feint, a purposeful misdirection. His response to her spear thrust, was simple and effective. Twisting to the side, he changed the direction of his longsword chopping in down upon the haft of her weapon.

Over balanced, Pyrrha was unable to recover before the keen edge of his blade split her open just below her breasts. She screamed in pain, her hand relinquishing it's hold upon her spear as she stumbled and fell backwards to the battle torn ground. Her eyes grew wide with fear as Jaune turned, and chambered his sword for a final strike.

"Cinder! Help me!" Pyrrha screamed out in a voice filled with utter desperation. A voice that was chocked off, as the vision of her love that had walked at her side for so long, gave her a cruel smile and faded away. "Cinder!"

Jaune's blade bit deep into her flesh, causing her to scream and screech in agony, as he drove in deeper and deeper. reaching down her twisted his hand in her matted mass of crimson hair, and pulled her to a seat position, eliciting a agonized cry. tears filled her eyes, as she finally understood what she truly had and was loosing.

She felt Jaune's warm skin touch her forehead. He teary eyes focusing on his now remorse filled blues.

"I prayed you would choose the correct path." he whispered. "That you would find and become the woman you had been at Beacon."

"Jau..." Pyrrha tried to speak, blood trickling over his lips.

"It seems that woman, was nothing but an facade to hide the cancer you truly are." Jaune continued to whisper. "Goodbye Pyrrha, may you finally find peace in death."

With those final words, Jaune pushed forward, driving his aged blade completely through her. Impaling the tainted heart of one he would have considered a friend. He watched, with tearless but remorseful eyes as Pyrrha's grew wide with the pain, and then dull as the light of life finally left her.

Withdrawing his weapon, he stood, and then went to work. As the sun began to sink past the horizon, Jaune finished his work. A small pile of stones places upon freshly turned soil. A spear, driven blade first at the head of the pile. he said no words, but just looked upon the fresh grave, before turning. retrieving his cast aside belongs, he sheathed his blade, and then seated his rusted helm upon his head, hiding his face in shadow.

"Goodbye." were the last words he spoke, before walking away, never to return to this place again.

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #cinder fall #neopolitian (rwby)#rwby what if #cinder x pyrrha #cinder & pyrrha serve salem #pompeii

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maxwell-grant · 24 hours ago

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Didn't realize you've read Riddler: Year One, any thoughts on it ? Also, in a more general way, what are your thoughts on the Riddler ?

Someone sent me an ask the past week or so saying that The Penguin is everything that the Joker movies should have been, and I don't think I agree on that in regards to The Penguin specifically. But if we're talking about a "Batman-less Batman villain origin story about a lonely suicidal man struggling with poverty and mental illness exacerbated by child abuse, who is pushed down through the cracks of society deep into the pits of his own mind until he can only save himself by becoming a horrible force of social upheaval and political terrorism, finally discovering joy and a reason to live at the expense of everyone around him, and now he will be Batman's problem someday", well this just completely embarasses Joker (2019) on every level. Impressively drawn, impressively written, impressive on it's own and as a prequel to the movie, WAY better than a movie actor's comic book tie-in has any right to be, and one of the greatest Batman comics ever made. Issue #5 in particular is one of the best and most harrowing comic issues and format breaks I've ever seen in the medium, and even if it's entirely self-contained, it very much belongs in the exact same conversation and should be considered inseparable from The Batman and The Penguin.

We spens 4 issues boiling the frog over every painful corner of Edward's childhood and humanity and misery, taking us through painfully intimate views and perspectives inside his headspace, seeing how and why he justifies his worldview and how easy it even is to do so, feeling truly sorry for this hopeless wretch even though we know he's losing it bad bad baddy bad bad and is going to step off the deep end forever. And then Issue 5 happens and suddenly you are one of the people in Gotham City tasked with sifting through this serial killer's personal diary and you can hear that creep shouting with that distorted voice, you can feel the final death rattle of Edward Nashton's soul ending where The Riddler begins to scream in your head 'I NEVER KNEW I HAD A REASON TO BREATHE", and by Issue 6 you fully understand why and how nobody was prepared for him, and why what he is and does and embodies is going to drag the city into an abyss it may never recover from, and why this was never going to stop even after his arrest, even after his defeat and humiliation in the movie. Everything here adds layers of sympathy and tragedy and heartbreak to the character, while simultaneously making everything he is and does in the movie so much more harrowing and disturbing, holy shit he really staked EVERYTHING, everyone's lives included, on being noticed by his savior.

I was already very much on board with Dano Riddler in the movie, whose execution absolutely sold what should have been, on paper, a storm of unadvisable fandom pitches and uninspired trends and straight-up bad ideas ("What if The Ridder was the Zodiac Killer", "What if The Riddler was a 4chan mass-shooter type", "What if The Riddler was a political terrorist with legitimate grievances but whose final goal was to kill off scores of people for little reason", "What if The Riddler was a creepy fascist responsible for a QAnon cult that ends the movie by metaphorically storming the capitol", "What if The Riddler was really, really, really obsessed with Batman", "What if The Riddler was another Dark Opposite Batman", fucking "What if The Riddler was Hush" even) worked into just this miracle magic bullet of a new take on the guy, fully capturing a lot of the essential bullet points of what makes The Riddler tick as a character while spinning them into new and significant ways befitting this increased role he has in the movie. Rereading the story now, so much of the movie even feels like it's specifically referencing the first Riddler story - The Mayor of Gotham City as a target, Riddler misdirecting Batman with a big target while his real plan involved a flood, Edward putting on a costume and naming himself The Riddler specifically because he wants to get Batman's attention, the glass maze, the written letters to police headquarters, The Eagle's Nest that is a nightclub and also the home of a millionaire with a bird last name (Falcone), a driverless vehicle careening wildly into a public place, even how the very first thing we learn about this fucker is that he cheats to win.

The guy in the movie is a version that fully works on it's own, but it clicks SO much more strongly and cohesively when you read this comic and what it establishes for him. It's the scene in the movie where the section of his diary reads "I must become something more" while Bruce finds the panicked desperate bat rattling against a cage, the thematic parallel between them that is the scariest thing he finds in the entire movie, but developed across six issues. This even begins with Eddie living through his version of the Wayne murders, with the first time he's felt anything other than crushing despair and misery, in part because he's seen the first hint of the puzzle he needs to solve, and where he needs to go. The moment the world stopped making sense for Bruce is the moment that the world started to make sense for Edward.

We understand, around the same time he understands, the childish nightmare that must become the pattern of his entire life from that moment onwards, how Edward Nashton would have killed himself, and no one would have cared, had he not become The Riddler, and how the only alternative to "Hey Edward why don't you crawl into the black hole inside yourself" is to, in fact, find this black hole inside of you and shaped like you and push other people into it instead. Become the creature of the night who can punch crime forever, become the avenging force too great for the Falcones to handle, become the kingpin whose name alone will live forever, become someone that the entire city will never again ignore or forget.

We see how it's less that he's been planning for this for so long, and more that his entire life has been broken and hammered into a Riddler shaped hole, and then when Batman dropped into it, he could start to understand what it is and put a name in it, in the fact that he's been training his entire life for this without knowing. Getting comfortable with flushing rats and making bombs at the orphanage, getting intimately and painfully familiar with self-loathing and alienation and misanthropic contempt for this city and it's people who sit by and allow all of this to happen, surviving his suicide attempts without being able to explain why, searching for answers as to why it hurts so much to live broken and unfulfilled and miserable and why he even bothers to keep on doing so, having nothing to love in his life but numbers and puzzles, spending his entire life invisible while trying to get Thomas Wayne and then his boss to notice and praise him, and then being the wrong man at the right place to begin his campaign, a little nobody accountant who noticed an inconsistency in the numbers, put the pieces together, and then decided he was gonna do something about it because he knew it could be done, because there was someone out there who showed it could be done, and if Eddie joined in, maybe this someone would notice him, let him be his friend.

Batman and R, forever.

(People don't talk nearly enough about how this Riddler's entire life ambition was to recreate Tim Drake's origin story, and they should, it's pretty funny)

And to be honest, I think this is the first Riddler origin story I've ever really liked. Some of the others, particularly the first, have their charms, and this one certainly wouldn't fit most takes on the character, even most of the ones I like, but I've never really been fully sold on the idea of a Riddler origin story until this one, he's always been a very backstory-proof guy to me. This doesn't have any particularly obvious shorthand moment as to why Edward became The Riddler, so much as an entire life twisted and torn and abandoned and rotten in ways big and small until this is what came out of him. No immediately abusive fathers or test cheating scandals or major company backstabbings as defining tragedies, just life for a poor orphan in Gotham City who can't figure out the answer to what's missing from his life until he does.

Still a horrible nerd hopelessly trapped in a life of trying to intellectually one-up everyone as the only thing he lives for and, like every horrible nerd, knowing that one day he will be recognized for what he is and then they'll all see how wrong and stupid and savage these stupid savage idiots all were to look down on him. Still a man driven to impose order on the world the way he believes it has to be. Still a cheater who loves puzzles and answers and the thrill of intellectual stimulation and victory more than anything else (and in this case, having had absolutely nothing else to even love about his life), and still very much this guy at the end:

I do have a lot of thoughts on The Riddler, and I think part of why I might not talk about him as much is because he's not a character I tend to have really exclusive or particular preferences for. There are a LOT of Riddlers out there, maybe more so than there are Jokers out there, and there's not really with him the definitive must-be-like-this that the other Batman rogues have. Everybody approaches the puzzle differently if they do so at all, and I like a lot of these Riddlers! They connect with each other surprisingly well even, in spite of being incompatible as the same person.

He's gone through some real ups and downs over the decades: given stardom in the Adam West show that made him a definitive Batman villain and spread his modus operandi across all the others, sacrificed in the altar of camp insecurity along with fellow snooty oddball Penguin, defanged and turned into a parody of himself, refitted for joke status, re-refitted for surprise baddie status, given a whole new lease on life and his own gimmicks with the arrival of computer puzzles and the internet and given his fangs back and then amplified, pushed back to the big leagues more horrible and topical than ever before and exponentially increasing as such until his next big movie showing, torn in multitudes across multiverses of takes and ideas, almost too many to even consolidate them all.

I like the first Riddler of Bill Finger's original story in Tec #140, this curious satisfaction-seeking master cheater growing exponentially more dangerous and more varied and more assured the more he fades into his endless barrage of traps and toys and puzzles,. I love Frank Gorshin's Riddler, and everybody loves Frank Gorshin's Riddler, he is the reason The Riddler became an iconic Batman villain overnight. I like John Glover in TAS, and I like Robert Englund's cold ghostly showman in The Batman (2002) much more. I love the Arkham games version of Riddler, probably because I never actually played the games and had to collect his dumb trophies. I love Paul Dini's Detective Riddler, and I especially love Brent Spiner's take on the guy for Justice League Action. I LOVE the more classic take on Riddler as played by John Leguizamo in The Batman Audio Adventures, and I LOVE Paul Dano's Riddler in The Batman, and they couldn't be more incompatible with each other.

I love the Riddlers who continuously undermine themselves in the name of criminal artistry and who look down on the profit-seeking rubes who think any of this is about money, and I love the Riddlers who are ultimately con-men doing money heists because they want to be the only crooks in town smart enough to have something to show for all their work at the end of the day. I like Riddlers who are widely despised and regarded with annoyance and disdain by the city and their fellow rogues, and I like the Riddlers who have good professional relationships with the other rogues, and the Riddlers who managed to become darkly inspiring figures in their own right. I love the Riddlers who've subsumed themselves into the mysteries and horror they embody, and I love the pathological pattern-finders trying to find a way out of this weird pathetic life, even if their efforts will be doomed to failure - The Riddler couldn't out-think his way out of Batman's toybox no matter how much he tried, and he has no desire to - where would it leave him? Down there with all the troglodytes? Please.

I can get on board with very human, conversational Eddies, the Eddies that did stints as sideshow carnies, that can tell on some level that they should be doing better things than this, who'll do bored stick-em-ups to fund the attention-seeking tantrums they're actually passionate about, and I can get on board with Eddies who are truly uniquely vile and scary even compared to the other Rogues in the room, who uphold this terrifyingly cold perversion of fairness, imposing a stark and utilitarian worldview on the city by which the penalty for falling short of his games is murder, that sheer calculated murderous menace that Frank Gorshin brought when he ended his first episode leering on a helpless Robin strapped to an operating table. And if I ever thought I couldn't get on board with the Riddler as a major serious scary existential threat to life on Gotham, well, The Batman sure proved me wrong. I may not love him as passionately as I do The Penguin or Hugo Strange, but I love too many versions of this guy to ever be able to narrow them all down, and there are even more still to be discovered.

Endlessly adaptable, able to change and mutate with the times on the same kinds of grand orchestral shifts and minute beats that Batman does, a greater variety of personalities than the Joker if not quite the same versatility (and where would we be without these two always pissing each other off or making out or both, living in each other's respective negative spaces), always an enduring and entertaining opponent regardless of whether he's the most pathetic man alive or a malevolent genius beyond understanding who routinely puppeteers an entire city and it's greatest hero into putting on their greatest performances for him. Always an adapting puzzle box, always leading into the next version of himself, always beguiling, and always becoming the most frustrating thing that Batman has to deal with, whether he's systematically destroying Batman's rationale and will and ability to be Batman or just being naturally the worst guy to deal with at the most unfortunate possible moment, in itself another key to his endurance. The Joker can murder sidekicks and torch the city and routinely try and drive Batman to breaking points of rage and indignity and despair - but sometimes The Riddler can get Batman there just by being himself, as anyone who's had to deal with this asshole in the Arkham games can attest.

It is imperative to believe in and understand Batman's worldview that his villains can be saved because everyone can and must be saved, just as it is to understand that, out of everyone in his Rogues Gallery, if The Riddler was drowning, Bruce would be inclined to throw him a cinderblock, and The Riddler would be glad to receive it, so long as his last gasps of breath could be spent laughing at Batman's inability to match wits with him.

For a villain who is meant to be fixated on knowing the one correct answer to every riddle, he’s uniquely able to be reinterpreted in endless new ways. He’s gone from being a camp and colorful performance artist to one of the most sadistic and sinister villains Batman can ever go up against. There is no one way to write a Riddler. There’s no single solution! And writers will always like the challenge that presents.

Just when readers think they’ve seen everything the Riddler has left to offer us, and the character is finally exhausted… a new lime-green envelope pops through the door of Wayne Manor to challenge us all once again. It seems we’ll never get tired of trying to unravel the Riddler, and writers will never give up on unraveling the character’s fullest potential. It unites readers, writers, and caped crusaders alike: this time, surely, we’ll crack him. - Batman's Greatest Enemy is...The Riddler, by Steve Morris

#replies tag #dc comics #batman #dc #the riddler #riddler #edward nashton #the batman #paul dano #stevan subic #the riddler year one #matt reeves #edward nygma

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lucagray813 · 3 days ago

Text

Shadow - Chapter 5

Title: Getting Close

Rating: M (M rated sections are marked with the line break --M-- at the start so skip to the next normal line break (----) if you want to avoid them)

Word Count: ~10,000

Characters: Wukong, Macaque

Minor Characters: Mentioned Lady Bone Demon, Bǎi Hé

Relationships: Macaque/Wukong

Minor Relationships: Macaque & Bǎi Hé

Summary: Discussions about sex and sex-related shenanigans abound as well as some heavier talks about the Lady Bone Demon and the fact Bǎi Hé is growing up.

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

CW: sexual humour, impotence, sex talk, mentions of casual sex, morning wood, inappropriate artefacts?

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev | Next

----

Wukong was having a bad day. He'd slept poorly, had woken up in a terrible mood and now nothing seemed to be able to make it better. It definitely wasn't helped by Macaque raising an eyebrow at his "grouchiness" and deciding he'd rather be literally anywhere else than here and getting snapped at over nothing.

And you know, tomorrow when he was no longer feeling so irritable, he'd think that was totally fair. God knows, how many times he'd avoided Macaque or outright told him to go somewhere else because he was in a bad mood. Today, however, it only annoyed him further.

By the time Macaque had returned he had at least gained some awareness of his mood and was a tiny bit better prepared to try and not take it out on someone who really hadn't done anything to deserve it but he knew he didn't have much patience at his disposal today.

Macaque had come back in an odd mood himself, he seemed on edge and when asked about it, he'd replied shortly, saying he'd helped MK out with some hero stuff. Hero stuff that went fine by the sounds of it - bad guy was beat and no notable injuries or collateral damage. He pressed further but all Macaque would tell him was this bad guy of the week had just rubbed him the wrong way.

He wouldn't tell him what the guy had been up to or who he was but everything about Macaque's body language was screaming at him to drop it and huffily he did. Even refrained from making some snippy comment about how much he loved Macaque's habit of keeping him guessing for no good reason.

Whatever. He just needed to get through the day and then they could start a fresh tomorrow. After sitting on it for a while, he realised he probably hadn't exactly been giving off "non-judgemental, you can talk to me" vibes.

But it wasn't at all helped by Macaque flip flopping between seemingly wanting to be as close to him as possible and as far away as possible - with an in between that just seemed to consist of glaring at him from a short distance.

It was during the most recent glaring session that he finally snapped, "What is your problem? You're either clinging to me, nowhere to be seen or glaring at me! What is going on?"

Predictably, Macaque just crossed his arms and looked away from him. A little less predictably, he muttered an apology and disappeared into the shadows.

"Macaque! Wait-! Agh!"

He did not have the patience or tact needed for this today. Why couldn't this have happened yesterday or tomorrow? Or literally any of the hundreds of other days that he wasn't feeling so short tempered.

Macaque did not reappear and Wukong could do nothing but sulk about it. It didn't compare to how awful he felt though when he received a message from MK asking how Macaque was because apparently everyone had been a bit shaken up from hero business today.

And it wasn't at all surprising since the bad guy's whole deal had been death magic.

He buried his face in his hands. Of all the days, of all the bad guys... He took a deep breath before he picked up his phone and told MK that Macaque was a bit on edge but he would be alright before asking after the rest of them. Once he'd heard back that they were all okay and having a slumber party later he let any thoughts of MK leave his mind.

He hoped Macaque was still on the island and not somewhere he couldn't physically reach. He slid off the couch and took up his preferred meditation pose. He'd tried more than once today to meditate to get his head on straight but each failed attempt only added to his frustration.

Right now though, he had ample motivation and finding Macaque like this was almost something he could do in his sleep. He kept his focus light, he just wanted to know if he was still on the island, he wasn't planning to astral project if he was. He sighed in relief when he felt Macaque's soul nearby.

He didn't immediately get up and go to him however. He was going to take a moment and then approach him with compassion and patience. However he'd been feeling today would have to just deal with being moved to one side. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed was not comparable to facing literal trauma.

He couldn't say he was a big fan of the small, dark cave that Macaque had squirreled himself away in. The only reason he could vaguely even see at all without his golden vision was because of the violet glow being emitted from the ball of magic that Macaque held close to his chest.

Not something he'd ever seen him do before but he decided to take it as a positive sign that Macaque was letting him see it now. He could have disappeared the moment he'd heard Wukong's footsteps head in his direction.

He carefully picked his way across the uneven ground, before stopping a short distance away and cautiously starting off, "MK got in touch - wanted to know how you were after this morning. He told me what happened... You want to talk about it?"

The silence that followed was more than a little concerning, so he took a few steps closer, "Macaque?" He was brought to a halt by the dangerous looking shadows taking physical form around them. He backed off slightly and that seemed to appease the shadows.

Macaque hadn't left or forced him out though and Wukong decided to take as a sign his presence wasn't actually unwanted, so he sat down and waited. He was trying to figure out his next course of action when Macaque spoke, "Do you remember anything about being possessed by the Lady Bone Demon?"

Unfortunately, despite his many attempts to repress it, he could in fact remember most of it. Some of the fighting was a bit hazy but the desperate struggle to try and rid himself of her control was much clearer than he'd like.

Reluctantly he offered, "Some of it, yeah."

"Do you remember how it felt? To have her magic inside you?"

A shiver went through him as if he could suddenly feel that unfathomable cold coming from deep within him. It was quite possibly up there as one of his worst experiences - even without the whole being forced to fight his friends nightmare - just that feeling of being both too full, and yet achingly empty. Of having someone strangle his very essence with their own. It was enough to keep him up for nights at a time.

Quietly he admitted, "Yeah, I remember."

"Describe it?"

It felt like an impossible ask. They'd already established that magic didn't like to be put into words. And honestly, he'd rather do anything but make the experience all the more real but he was sure Macaque was going somewhere with this, and would hopefully share his own experiences if he did the same.

He clasped a hand over his heart as he tried to find the words, "It was like... a constricting weight on my magic, wrapped around it tightly with these smaller poisonous tendrils slowly trying to force themselves towards my very core. It was... awful. Violating."

Way, way back in the day magic had often been described as the blood of the soul. And Wukong couldn't help but feel there was some credence to that theory - the Lady Bone Demon's attempt to control him had felt like an attack on his very spirit. Although given the source of her magic perhaps it had been.

Macaque pulled the small manifestation of his magic away from him just enough to look at it. Even if Wukong had had a clear enough view of his face he had a feeling he still wouldn't be able to interpret the complicated expression he was wearing.

Macaque admitted, "Sometimes, I can still feel her magic stitched into mine." He continued before Wukong could offer any reassurances, "I know it's in my head." He held up the ball of magic as if to show him, "I know there's no trace of her left in me but after that run in with that bastard today I just can't shake the feeling that there is."

Wukong had obviously seen the terrible way her magic had engulfed Macaque's right side, had felt the scarring it had left in it's wake but he didn't think that's what he meant, quietly he asked, "Describe it?"

The ball of magic separated into two, one taking on a much deeper colour than the other, they started to move around one another leaving tangled trails behind them - like snakes intertwining themselves with one another.

It was almost beautiful, almost as if they were dancing, but as he watched it became clear that the lighter of the two orbs was following the other, occasionally looping possessively around the tail the darker one was leaving.

Macaque lifted a finger out to touch the darker orb and the lighter one spiked up, aggressively forcing the other to move away from the appendage. He dropped his hand and watched the orbs continue to move as he explained, "I could always feel it, this cold, dead magic running through me. It was only painful if I tried anything to get rid of it but even when it wasn't actively hurting me... It just felt wrong."

He paused for a minute before continuing sounding a little distraught, "It didn't matter where I went or what I did, she was always there with me, burrowed into the very essence of who I am. I hadn't known a moment's peace until she was finally fucking dead."

The cave went totally dark as he buried his head against his knees, "But it's still not enough. She's dead but she's still here with me. I just want her gone. How do I make her leave me alone? How do I make her stop?"

He was powerless to ignore the need to get closer and comfort him but as soon as he stood and took a step forward, he heard a panicked scramble. He stopped as he heard Macaque choke out, "D-don't! Fuck. Please, just- Don't come closer."

He very reluctantly sat back down and tried to make sure none of his own distress was audible as he replied, "Hey, it's fine. I won't come any closer. You're ok."

He couldn't resist the urge to use his golden vision to check on him however. Another time he likely would have been impressed by the strength of Macaque's glamours, all he could see was that there were definitely glamours there but not what they were hiding. Although with the way Macaque was hunched over he likely wouldn't have been able to see anything he wasn't allowed to see yet.

Voice muffled Macaque got out, "Shit. Sorry."

"Hey, we're fine." He tried to joke lightly, "I get it. The mood I've been in today, I wouldn't want to be near me either."

His poor attempt at a smile quickly fell at the sound of a small sniffle. He floundered for the words that would somehow make this better but Macaque spoke before he found them, "Sometimes, I think about how you overcame her control and think you could do the same for me. Just chase out all trace of her. But the thought of anyone's magic, even yours, getting close enough to do that... I just can't..."

Wukong felt his shoulders sink. Well, that went some way to explain Macaque's inconsistent behaviour today. It also explained another mystery that he'd been trying to solve.

Wukong was on board and up-to-date with Macaque's research into magic but there had been a surprising lack of experimentation into how their magic interacted together, they only tended to focus on how their magic reacted to various stimuli, even though he'd made it plenty clear he was willing and able to try out pretty much anything Macaque suggested. Well, within reason anyway.

He was really trying to follow Macaque's lead on this - let him decide how this should progress but he couldn't deny he'd been tempted to try and push him. But he was beginning to understand why Macaque had been so reluctant.

Magic could be combined in incredible ways, such as in show stopping feats that required a hefty amount of magic or to cast spells that needed mastery of more than one magic type. Magic could complement someone else's - just being in sync with someone whose magic you knew well could have both of you performing better, magic flowing smoother, spells easier to cast.

And he knew in theory that magic could combine on a much more personal level. He'd heard of ancient demon clans that shared magic with one another through various means. Personally, he'd never really experienced it but he had somewhat assumed that that's what Macaque meant when he'd told him he had wanted to know how their magic could interact.

He thought feeling his magic intertwined with Macaque's sounded like it could be something wonderful. It wouldn't be at all like the awful feeling of the Lady Bone Demon trying to control him and make his magic her own. It would be a new way to know each other. It would be good, he was sure of it.

Scarily deep and personal but well that's sort of what he aspired to have with Macaque anyway.

He took a breath and tried to soothe him, "I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to. On a better day we can talk more about it but right now all you need to focus on is the fact that the only magic flowing through you is yours."

He started talking him through a sort of basic meditation with the focus being on the way his magic felt. It was something Macaque could do in his sleep, and had quite possibly been doing something similar when he'd found him. In any other situation, Macaque probably would have been more than a little offended by the notion he needed guidance for something so trivial but as it was he seemed to be following along.

He kept talking long after he'd run out of things to say, repeating and reiterating the practice until he felt solid shadows wrap around his hand. He squeezed them gently, confident the gesture wouldn't be lost on Macaque. He asked, "You ready to get out of here?"

With less levity than he was sure was intended, Macaque responded, "The dark getting to you?"

Wukong shook his head, and lifted the shadows still holding onto his hand up to his lips for a moment, "We can stay here as long as you need."

He heard him take a measured breath before Macaque stood and made his way to stand in front of him and offered a hand, voice only sounding slightly unsteady, he responded, "Nah, it's close to dinner time. C'mon, let's go home."

Wukong took his hand and followed Macaque out of the cave. He blinked his golden vision away as his eyes tried to adjust to the late evening light. Macaque squeezed his hand once and then let go.

For the rest of the evening, Wukong had taken the tact to let Macaque do as he pleased when it came to space and touch without commenting or reciprocating. If he wanted to sit close to him for only a handful of minutes before retreating only to repeat the process moments later then Wukong let him without complaint.

It seemed to have been the right strategy as over the next few hours he seemed to settle, until he was curled up against his chest as they watched TV.

Macaque had looked somewhat guilty when it came time for bed but Wukong refused to make a big deal about him obviously wanting to sleep by himself. He just got ready as he normally did but he did appreciate the gentle kiss he got before Macaque wished him good night and left him to it.

----

It had taken Macaque a few days to properly bounce back from his unfortunate run in with death magic but almost immediately following it he'd quite determinedly told Wukong that they should work on casting spells together.

And then he'd dragged him off to the training ground he'd prepared before Wukong could offer any protests. Once he saw what Macaque had in mind however he was more or less on board.

The ground was covered in various seals that required two people to activate them. It technically involved their magic interacting together but it would all happen within the seal and depending on the seal it might not even require them to really synchronise beyond activating the right amount of magic at the same time.

It was by and large a very sensible first step and honestly, Wukong was pretty excited to see what spells Macaque had put together. Although, he decided a little wariness was warranted - he absolutely did not trust Macaque not to try and prank him in the process. For all he knew there was a seal here that would explode magic paint everywhere and only Macaque would know to take cover.

Explosions of all sorts had definitely been on the agenda and Wukong was definitely going to tease Macaque later for including so many firework-like displays. The big sap had clearly done it because he knew Wukong would love it.

And he definitely had. In fact, the whole exercise had been a lot of fun and he was sort of excited to put his own seals together for them to try. He could easily see this becoming a competition to see who could put together the most surprising or spectacular spell and he was here for it.

In his excitement however he had let his guard down and as they approached the last seal, any thoughts of foul play had totally left his head. He blinked in confusion as the seal seemed to do nothing when activated.

He looked over to see Macaque looking equally confused and couldn't help but tease, "You losing your touch, Mac? Better be careful or I'll snatch up your title as the resident seals expert."

Macaque scowled at him, and waved at the ink of the ground, "You think you know so much? Why don't you look at it and see what went wrong then?"

He grinned as he crouched down so he could get a proper look, "Don't worry. I've heard performance issues are common with monkeys your age."

He heard a snort from behind him, "You would know."

He didn't retort as he started looking at the seal in earnest and what he was seeing was absolutely nonsense, "Were you drunk when you did this? What even is any of this?"

That's what he had intended to say at least, he was interrupted by the boot in between his shoulder blades pushing him off balance and sending him tumbling through the shadow portal that had suddenly appeared on the ground.

Between crouching on solid ground and landing face first in the weird pond that turned everything that touched it green, he only had time to curse himself for falling for such an obvious ruse. Unbelievable. He was the King of pranks and tricks and he'd fallen for that? He didn't deserve his metaphorical crown.

He emerged from the water to an audience of hysterically laughing monkeys but his eyes were only for the smirking jerk standing well back from the splash zone. He was going to wipe that look of his face, he swore Macaque was going to be stuck being green with him for the days it took to wear off.

Macaque just grinned widely before he darted off and Wukong was out of the water faster than a blink of an eye. Trying not to take too much delight in the chase, lest he forget about his retribution.

--M--

Waking up with Macaque in his arms was undoubtedly his favourite way to start the day. Despite the number of times they had shared a bed, it was incredibly rare to wake up to one of them holding the other. He tended to toss and turn too much and Macaque generally tucked himself into a ball and didn't move at all, so rarely did the stars a line to allow it.

But today was apparently one of those blessed days and he intended to savour it for as long as he could. It was only as he nosed at the back of Macaque's neck and pulled him closer to his front that he became aware of an unexpected addition to this usually soft and precious moment.

Wukong was not one to be afflicted with morning wood often but he wasn't immune. He thought he could be forgiven however for reacting to Macaque's backside pressed up against him. He was quite happy to ignore it though in favour of dozing with Macaque bundled up in his arms, it certainly wasn't detracting from the experience.

Well, his experience, at least. Macaque didn't seem appreciative of the unexpected addition as he mumbled, "Wukong, if your dick doesn't stop poking me in the ass I promise you'll regret it."

He grumbled back, "As if you can feel it." But he did reach down between them and adjust himself. He couldn't help but pout slightly, he had been exceptionally comfortable, "Happy?"

Macaque absentmindedly grunted his assent, apparently more concerned with trying to go back to sleep than engaging with him any further. Instead of doing the same however he found himself idly playing with the fur on Macaque's hip as his mind wandered.

Sex probably wasn't on the table for their relationship, right? Not that that was a problem, Wukong had never really been that fussed about it in the first place, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't something he would've never have been interested in trying with Macaque.

Well, trying it properly, at least. Because he and Macaque had actually had sex before - a handful of times a long, long, long time ago - but it was less the tender, loving thing he now was aware it could be and more... well, more like monkeys going at it in the woods.

And as one might imagine it was an activity that generally only benefited one of them and there were no prizes for guessing who. Although, he was sure if Macaque had ever asked it would never have been an issue to change things up but he generally seemed pretty unbothered by the whole thing.

In fact, he could vaguely remember him just rolling his eyes before obliging Wukong's requests. Or... not obliging him if he wasn't in the mood to deal with him. Wukong was no brute, he knew how to take no for an answer, but that didn't mean he hadn't been incredibly annoying about it, and as such, depending on how bad a mood Macaque had been in, he had on occasion found himself dumped in a cold lake somewhere in the world.

So sex hadn't happened often and that had been totally fine but he couldn't help but feel somewhat annoyed at his younger self for being so... monkey about it when it did happen. It could have been something really special, something that brought them closer together. Instead it had been about scratching an itch with the only available demon for miles around.

One more regret to add to the list.

He couldn't help but imagine what it could have been like though - for both of them to get something out of the experience, for both of them to care as much, if not more, about the other's pleasure as their own.

He had no real experience to pull from but a fantasy built upon the familiar was starting to take shape - making out was something they did on occasion and in his mind he could see how hands and lips started to wander. His little daydream however was rudely cut off before it could really get going by a deliberate elbow shoved into his stomach.

He groaned, "What the hell was that for?"

Macaque scoffed as he looked over his shoulder, "Because it turns out blood isn't the only thing that rushes south. Getting a bit excited, were we?"

It took him a moment to understand what he was implying but when it clicked his face was set ablaze, and he suddenly found it difficult to look Macaque in the eye, "You could feel...?"

Unfortunately, his embarrassment was something that Macaque absolutely lapped up and he turned to face him with a delighted grin, "Sure could. You want me to try and describe what it felt like?"

Despite his mortification, he was in fact very interested in the answer, but he in no way wanted to let on how uncool he was feeling about getting caught fantasising. So not trusting his voice he shrugged as nonchalantly as possible.

And he was absolutely not affected by the way Macaque twirled the fur on his hips around his finger as he teased, "What's the matter, Wukong? Cat got your tongue?"

He coughed awkwardly, "No... I just... Er, tell me what it felt like?"

"Tell you what what felt like?"

"Macaque!"

"What? Just tell me what you want. Who knows? Maybe I'll even give it to you."

His suggestive tone left his mouth dry and his mind in the gutters. He bit his tongue before he could say anything foolish. There was no way. This was a trap. It had to be. That coy grin was full of mischief. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't be turned against him somehow.

He bowed his head in defeat, "Just... Tell me what it felt like when I was... Y'know... Turned on."

He wanted to cringe. What was wrong with him? He shouldn't be so embarrassed, he was basically just handing Macaque the upper hand on a silver platter, but this atmosphere that Macaque had created was keeping him off kilter. He felt out of his depth.

Macaque's hand slid from his hip up to his cheek and directed his gaze back up. His amusement was clear to see and Wukong was really hating how none of this seemed to be turning him off at all.

Macaque leaned in a little closer, "What were you thinking about that had you so "turned on", hm?"

Against his will, his eyes flicked down to Macaque's lips briefly and he hoped against hope Macaque somehow wasn't able to "see" that. He heroically tried to gain some control of the situation, "Wh-What does it matter? You some sort of pervert?"

Macaque laughed, "Me? Who's the one so obviously excited right now?" Despite knowing the answer, he still glanced down between them for some reason, and unfortunately he was indeed the only one with any incriminating evidence against him.

Macaque slowly dragged his hand down from his face to his chest, at Wukong's audible swallow, he continued, "But it matters because I want to know exactly what is causing the magic pooling around your balls to feel so hot and heavy. You know I like to be thorough when your magic is involved."

As his hand slipped lower and lower, Wukong's thoughts had been reduced to something along the lines of Holy Shit! Holy Shit! What do I do? Is he really going to-? What do I do?

At the last possible moment, Macaque pulled his hand away with joyous laughter, "You should see your face! Oh, wait, maybe I can recreate it with the shadows for you. Hold on-"

He was cut off as Wukong brought a hand to the back of his head and surged forward to kiss him. Macaque managed a small sound of surprise, and half a second to laugh before he reciprocated, trying to keep up with Wukong's desperation.

God, he was the worst. He hated him so much. Stupid, mouthy jerk with his stupid, sexy teasing. He was going to kiss him until he looked as debauched as he felt.

He brought his hand down to Macaque's hip and dragged him closer but he wasn't so lost in the haze of lust not to feel how tense Macaque became in response. He pulled away with the intent to check on him but Macaque pulled him back in with a hand in his hair before he could utter a word.

Given the enthusiasm of the kissing he was less inclined to believe something was amiss and more inclined to believe that Macaque was perhaps a little less cool and collected than he'd let on. And maybe it was possible he was the teeniest bit nervous about this and didn't want Wukong to call him out on it.

He resisted the urge to grin as he thought about how he could possibly get his own back for earlier and give Macaque a taste of his own medicine. So fully intending not to follow through, he let his hands trail down Macaque's hip and towards his dick. He was not at all expecting the near bruising grip on his wrist before he even got close though.

He pulled back from the kiss immediately and gently removed his hand from Macaque's hold so he could safely place it on his arm, Macaque wouldn't look at him and Wukong started to ramble, "I wasn't planning to... I mean, I just wanted to... I'm sorry? I didn't... Are you ok?"

Macaque bit out, "Fine." Before grumbling, "Stupid. I shouldn't have..." He turned on his side and faced away from him, "My fault. Sorry."

Wukong was trying to recover from the whiplash this situation had given him but he tentatively laid his hand back on Macaque's arm, "It's ok. I... What just happened? Can you... talk me through it?"

He didn't think he'd done anything wrong but something had certainly happened to upset Macaque. He really, really didn't want this to be one of the times that he left him guessing for any length of time. But he was reassured after a long pause when Macaque reached up and laid his hand on top of his.

Wukong couldn't quite stop the quiet sigh of relief and he took that as a go ahead to plaster himself to Macaque's back - finding he really needed the comfort of touching him. He waited as Macaque pulled his hand down from his arm and held it against his chest, certain he was just trying to find the right words.

"I can't feel things, Wukong."

He frowned against the back of his neck. Macaque could feel things. It wasn't how he felt them but between his shadows and his magic, Wukong was pretty sure in some instances he could actually "feel" more than he could.

But he tried to figure out what Macaque was really trying to say here as he quietly waited for him to elaborate. Which he did with a frustrated sound, "I can't- You touching me isn't going to make anything happen."

Still confused, he tried, "You can feel through your magic though...? How is it different from how we normally make out?"

Obviously, he knew kissing and sex were not the same but from a "feeling through magic" perspective surely the same rules applied - if anything Wukong would have thought it would be even more intense.

"For fuck's sake. I can't get it up, you fucking moron."

Oh.

In hindsight maybe it could have been possible for him to have come to the conclusion himself slightly sooner but it wasn't that obvious and he really didn't appreciate being snapped at.

Macaque seemed to realise that though and with his other hand covering his face he apologised, "Fuck. Sorry. Sensitive subject." He laughed bitterly, "Or not-so sensitive."

He tried to soothe him, "It's ok. It's really not that big a deal."

Macaque seemed to sag in defeat, "In the grand scheme of things? No. But it would have been nice."

Well, he couldn't really deny that but before today the thought hadn't really even crossed his mind so while it was admittedly a little disappointing it was something he'd get over quickly. He was more concerned with how Macaque felt about the whole thing.

He held him tightly, "It might have been but everything we already have is plenty nice. And just so we're absolutely, a hundred percent clear I am in no way upset about this. I mean, I'm upset if you're upset but I promise sex hadn't even crossed my mind before."

Macaque managed a weak laugh, "Yeah, I'm well aware."

He pretended to pout, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Pretty sure there are mushrooms with a higher sex drive than you. You thought about having sex all of maybe ten times before giving it up for good."

Wukong wanted to say he was exaggerating but he probably wasn't actually that far off. Maybe once or twice a century the urge would suddenly hit him but that still seemed to have been more interest than Macaque had ever shown. He wasn't quite sure if it was appropriate to point that out right now though.

A little lamely he said, "Yeah, well, at least you know I'm telling the truth. Are you upset about it though?"

He was quiet for a minute before admitting, "Yeah, I am a bit but I'll get over it." He then laughed slightly, "I'm more upset about how quickly teasing you came back to bite me though. That felt like a new record."

Wukong snorted, "Oh please. You've had almost instant comeuppance plenty of times - you're not as slick as you think you are." He wasn't quite ready to let the topic drop, "But in all seriousness, if you want to talk about it..."

"Yeah, yeah. Chóu's Considerate Husband of the Year award is on it's way."

He puffed up in faux pride, before asking, "Do you think she'll back date me for the awards she didn't know me for yet?"

The bickering over how considerate he had been until this point lasted the rest of the morning.

--M--

Macaque had not so subtly been bringing Wukong seals projects to work on. Sometimes it was under the guise of "Oh, Gōngzhǔ found this artefact and Red Son's too busy to figure out what it does. You've got time, right?" or "Apparently, there's a prize to anyone that can write up a successful counter seal for this. You want to give it a go?"

He generally timed this with whenever Wukong was planning to work on the artefacts that could function as accessibility aids for Macaque and eventually he'd taken the hint and quietly put those projects to one side.

He hadn't outright abandoned them though because even if Macaque wasn't interested they were proving great at teaching him various complicated sealing techniques, including how to redo seals with another type of magic at their core.

But they very rarely got worked on and while he would love for Macaque to actually sit down and talk to him about it - sometimes you just had to pick your battles. Macaque clearly preferred developing his magic over finding ways to "fix" his more conventional senses and Wukong had decided the best option was to support him with that.

So he spent a lot of time working on other projects that Macaque brought him. The one he was currently working on had been niggling at something in the back of his head since he'd started, and it finally dawned on him why. He was sure he'd seen them on a similar artefact he had in the vault and so he stood up with a stretch and told Macaque that he was off to find it.

Macaque had decided he could do with a break from his own project and happily accompanied him to help look for it. His golden vision could make short work of the search but he was sure he knew roughly where it was and it was nice just to go through the treasure piles and see what else there was.

It was as he was doing this, that he came across two artefacts that he remembered throwing over here after deciding they were useless in helping Macaque with his muted senses. He hastily tried to bury them again but the damage had been done.

Macaque's head popped over his shoulder, "What's got your heart racing all of a sudden?"

Racing was a gross overstatement but Macaque could pick up and interpret the slightest changes with annoying accuracy. Foolishly, he turned to face him, shoving the artefacts behind him, "Nothing! Just, er, found some artefacts that might prove useful for a different project later! Not helpful right now though!"

Macaque just raised an eyebrow, "Really? That's what you're going with?"

Wukong just sighed and decided it was best to get the embarrassment over with. He brought the necklace and ring around and presented them to Macaque, "I found these a while back when I was trying to find artefacts that might help you with your sense of touch but they were total write offs. Not even remotely what I was looking for."

Macaque took them off him and held them up curiously, "What do they actually do then?"

He did his best to keep a straight face, "The ring I couldn't actually get to work but the necklace... Well, it does heighten your sense of touch in a manner of speaking..."

Macaque snorted, "It's a sex thing, isn't it?"

He nodded, "It's totally a sex thing. Which I just want to confirm, was not what I was looking for."

Macaque seemed to eye the necklace for a moment before he shrugged and slipped it on. Wukong's eyes widened in disbelief before they immediately shot downwards.

The scuff to the side of his head had been somewhat deserved, "Have some class, Wukong."

He rubbed at his nonexistent pain and tried to defend himself, "Hey, when I tried it on the effect was immediate."

Macaque scoffed, "Maybe you're just easy to please."

Despite himself, he felt his face heat up, "You say that like it's a bad thing! Who wants to be hard to please?"

"Always one extreme or the other with you. Believe it or not, there is in fact this nice middle ground where everyone has a good time."

"I know that! I didn't mean- Ah forget it! Is that necklace doing anything for you or what?"

Macaque hummed and brought a hand to the necklace, "I think I can feel what it's trying to do. But all it's really achieving is making me horny as hell with no way to do anything about it. So thanks for that."

"Wh-? I didn't make you put it on!"

Macaque casually removed the necklace and put it down on the nearest surface before he slipped the ring on and frowned at it, "You said you couldn't get this to work?"

"Yeah, it didn't do anything. Why? You feel something?"

"No... Give me your hand though, I have an idea."

Obligingly, he did so and as soon as Macaque's hand touched his he knew exactly what the ring did. He was going to deny the sound that escaped him for the rest of eternity and he quickly snatched his hand back, "Alrighty! Well, we now know what that does now! That's no help to anyone! Let's put it away, shall we?"

Maybe toss it in a volcano for good measure because he did not like the grin spreading across Macaque's face, "Put it away? Why you haven't even told me what it does yet."

Macaque absolutely knew what it did and for every step forward he took, Wukong took one back, his hands held up in front of him defensively, "We don't have to do this."

Macaque's response was full of delight, "Oh, I think we do. You want a safe word in case you need to tap out?"

He didn't dignify that with a response, he just turned tail and ran. Unfortunately, running from someone with shadow powers was all but impossible and he thought Macaque was taking a truly disproportionate amount of pleasure in this terribly inappropriate game of hide and seek.

Every gentle caress or trailing of his fingers along his skin sent a pleasurable shiver through him and it was all he could do just to not let any more embarrassing sounds escape him. And as if running about with an erection wasn't bad enough, he was appalled to discover that Macaque's vicious laughter was not even nearly the turn off it should be.

It was the ring. It had to be. He refused to accept anything else.

Eventually Macaque had him cornered and Wukong was prepared to beg - for what he wasn't even sure but god was he feeling desperate. As Macaque slowly stalked towards his prey, he suddenly decided this really was way too overwhelming, "Macaque... I... Uh... Safe word? Please?"

He was a little surprised at how immediate an effect that had. Macaque stopped and made a show of removing the ring and having it disappear into the shadows, he spread his arms wide as if to show he had nothing else on him.

He couldn't help but sigh a little in relief, "I, er, didn't think that would actually work."

"Honestly I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did. I thought you would have blown your load after like the third touch."

He was oddly both offended and embarrassingly a little pleased with the backhanded compliment but still slightly aghast at the crude language. He huffed and stood tall, "Guess I'm not so "easy to please" after all."

Macaque shrugged, "It's definitely a step up in duration compared to past performances but I can't say the running away was a shining example of sexual prowess."

Face red, he retorted, "It was a "shining example" of restraint! Something you should think about giving a try sometime!"

Macaque laughed, and he turned away to start heading back, "I think I showed great restraint. I gave you plenty of chances to get away."

Wukong grumbled as he adjusted himself before following after him, "You just wanted to keep the chase going."

"Guilty as charged but don't pretend you don't love that shit too."

It was true - he was almost never happier than he was when they played their game of cat and mouse. It didn't even matter who had what role - it made him feel like he was young again, with no ambitions for power or immortality yet. Just wild and free, without a care in the world.

"Yeah, sure. But for the record? Running with a hard-on really detracts from the whole experience - I could do without that again. What did you do with the ring anyway?"

Macaque just grinned menacingly and forged ahead without answering.

He groaned, silently prayed he would be merciful and jogged after him.

--M--

It was later that evening, after they'd had dinner, that Wukong found himself considering Macaque from the opposite end of the couch, and apropos to nothing he stated, "You've had sex with people other than me."

Macaque looked bemused, "That a problem?"

He made a face, "What? No. I'm just wondering - when? Why? You were even less interested in sex than I was - what changed?"

Macaque seemed to ponder this for a moment before he laughed slightly, "Alright, I'll tell you but it's a story so dumb it defies belief."

His favourite kind of story! He excitedly gestured for him to start.

"So, you know those demons that feed off other people's emotions?"

He was immediately in disbelief, "No... Don't tell me...?"

Macaque nodded, eyes sparkling with mirth, as he set the scene, "It couldn't have been long after your first immortality and we had been out exploring the world when, as per usual, you ditched me because something had caught your eye."

He had the good grace to at least feel sheepish over the reminder of his less than stellar track record as a teammate but Macaque obviously wasn't that upset about it, as he continued, "Lucky for you, I had found my own entertainment in the form of some rumours about some cursed tomb nearby. So, I went to check it out. As it would eventually transpire there was this demon that was "haunting" the place - a shapeshifter that was feeding off the fear of anyone willing to risk the curse for a stab at the rumoured treasure."

Macaque shook his head, "Honestly, it was pretty amateurish - the rumours and the dark were really doing all the work. I was able to see through all their attempts to scare me until eventually they gave up and appeared before me to lecture me for being such a spoil sport.

They explained their whole deal though and that's when they proposed a deal. See, they were starving, not many brave souls had been risking the tomb recently but they didn't need to feast on fear. They not-so-subtly hinted that there were much more pleasurable emotions to be had and they'd make it worth my while if I helped them out."

Wukong interjected, "There's no way you said yes to that!"

Macaque grinned, "You're right. I told them that sex sucks and I wasn't interested but then they were all like "Ah, you've had one too many selfish lovers, eh? But trust me the better you feel, the better I eat." And proceeded to really lay it on thick why this was a good idea. I still wasn't convinced though and eventually they offered up this fancy artefact they had - if they didn't show me the time of my life it was all mine. It was a win-win situation really."

He paused and laughed, "Needless to say, I didn't get that artefact. They were good on their word - although I'd say being a shapeshifting empath really gave them an unfair advantage. But turns out sex doesn't suck - I just had more involved needs than being mounted for two minutes. Go figure. After that I had the occasional fling, but have to say they were a hard act to follow."

Wukong protested, "There's no way that's true! That's some porn level shit! I don't believe you!"

"I told you it was dumb as hell. But I swear, that's what happened. And you don't even know the half of it but I'm not sure your "enlightened" ears could handle the finer details."

He told himself he could totally handle it but he wasn't stupid enough to take the bait - Macaque would go out of his way to embarrass him somehow, instead he continued with his disbelief, "If this happened when you said it did, I would already have known! You would have told me!"

"First of all, I'm not the "kiss and tell" sort of guy. And secondly, just because you liked to over share doesn't mean I did. There's plenty that went on that you never caught wind of."

It was, unfortunately, also quite possible there was plenty that Macaque had actually told him about that he hadn't paid attention to and he was grateful he hadn't felt the need to bring that up. But this hadn't been one of them because his younger self would have been all over this.

Either way he was sort of struck by the notion that there were apparently things he didn't know about Macaque from before his imprisonment - things that flew in the face of what he thought he knew. And he found he really wanted to know the truth.

A little hopeful he asked, "Like what?"

Over the next hour or so Macaque had him in constant awe and hysterics - stories of misbegotten adventures, strange rivalries, pranks gone wrong, backstage drama - and he was sure they were only scratching the tip of the iceberg.

For as amazing as some of these stories were, there was an uncomfortable feeling slowly building in his chest, trying not to sound as affected by it as he was, he asked, "How come you never told me about any of this at the time?"

He could understand a few stories slipping under the radar - Macaque forgetting to tell him because something big came up that distracted him or maybe Wukong had been off the island for so long the moment had passed - but he was getting the feeling there was more to it than that.

Macaque shrugged, "Ah, you know what it was like - always so much going on back in those days. You were away, or we were busy, or I was in a bad mood. But hey! Look on the bright side though! Now you get to hear them all for the first time now!"

"Yeah... That's really all there was to it though? No other reason I'm only hearing these stories now?"

Macaque seemed to waver for a moment before he sighed and turned away slightly embarrassed, "You've not noticed a common theme with these stories? I'm generally the butt of the joke. When we were younger I was sort of, er, hung up on what you thought about me. Didn't want you to think less of me."

He cooed, instantly enamoured, "Aw! You wanted me to think you were cool? That's so cute!"

Macaque crossed his arms with a huff, before grumbling, "Something like that."

Wukong couldn't resist teasing, "You know it didn't work though, right? I've always known you were a big dork. It's obvious no matter what you do."

Macaque scoffed, "You're one to talk. But obviously now that I'm older and wiser I know better. I'm no longer under any delusion that you're the be-all and end-all."

"Uh-huh. Sure. We're just going to pretend I'm not your favourite person in the whole world then?"

"You don't even rank in the top three."

"You're such a rotten liar!" He then leaned over to get in Macaque's space, he let the magic in his hands hum as he poked at him, "C'mon, admit it, I'm your favourite person. Not even top three... As if!"

Macaque squirmed and grappled with his hands to stop his prodding, "See, this right here is why you're not my favourite - you're just so annoying when you don't get your way."

They bickered childishly for a while as they playfully wrestled as best as they could without falling off the couch until eventually he plopped down on top of Macaque.

Macaque ran a hand through his hair, "Giving up?"

"You wish. I'm just biding my time. I'll get that confession. You just wait."

Macaque scoffed, "Sure thing, Monkey Cop."

A comfortable silence took hold as Macaque groomed his fur and Wukong felt his thoughts drift under the gentle ministrations. If he didn't think about it too hard, then a younger Macaque trying to act cool around him was both hilarious and sort of adorable. And it's not like Wukong hadn't ever done the same.

He'd lived for the adulation that others lavished on him but for all his love and loyalty Macaque had often been tight lipped when it came to praising him, probably not wanting to feed his dangerously inflated ego, and he had taken this as something of a challenge. So, there had been plenty of times he'd gone out of his way to try and impress Macaque but it didn't quite feel the same.

Macaque had hidden away parts of himself that he thought Wukong would think less of him for and that rubbed him the wrong way. He shouldn't have felt like he had to do that, he should have been able to trust Wukong with all of him but he couldn't blame him one bit for not being able to.

It was different now though, Wukong could be someone that Macaque could confide in and depend upon, he may tease him or give him a hard time but he knew that Wukong would always have his back. Macaque knew that, right?

"Hey, uh, you know you can talk to me, right? Like, about anything." He tried to make it sound slightly less serious by adding, "You know, even if you come across as super uncool or whatever."

Macaque snorted, "As if I worry about being "cool" around you. Nothing I can say or do can compare to the dumb shit you've done."

"Hey! I am the epitome of cool! You could only dream of being as cool as me!"

"As a general rule, people that go around calling themselves cool are anything but."

He poked him in the side, "Whatever. That wasn't nearly the important part of that question. And I would like an actual response. So... You know that you can talk to me, right?"

The pause almost had him pushing himself up to look at him but the light pressure Macaque had on his head told him he wanted him to stay where he was. Eventually he answered, "I'm getting there."

Oh.

That hurt a bit more than he wanted to admit but he tried not to dwell on it and instead responded, "Anything I can do to help with that?"

Macaque started scratching gently at the base of his skull, right where he knew he liked it, as he leaned down and kissed the top of his head, "Just keep doing what you're doing. Some things just take time, old habits are hard to break."

Time was something they had plenty of and he was in this for the long haul. However long it took, he would prove that to him. For the moment, however he snuggled close and asked to hear more stories.

----

Wukong had been making his way back to the house when he heard what, unfortunately, sounded an awful lot like Macaque's brooding playlist coming from that direction. He had a feeling he knew what might have happened but either way he made his way back and cautiously peeked his head around the door before entering properly.

He found Macaque sprawled out on the couch with his eyes closed as his depressing music filled the air. He leaned on the back of the couch and looked down at him, "I thought you were seeing Bǎi Hé today?"

"She had to cancel."

He'd had a feeling but still he frowned, "That's like the third time in a row."

"She's busy - school, friends, all that jazz."

"Yeah, but she couldn't have told you before now she couldn't make it?"

"Things come up, you lose track of time, it's fine."

"It's clearly not fine. You're here moping and listening to your saddest playlist."

"I'm not moping, I'm just lying down. And that playlist is just the one that came on."

Yeah, right. He could deny it all he wanted but he was obviously super bummed out at being stood up. He tried to play it cool but Macaque really looked forward to his monthly catch up with Bǎi Hé, he would always come back and proudly update him on whatever she'd been up to.

He couldn't help but feel a little annoyed on Macaque's behalf, "What excuse did she give you this time?"

"Study date."

"What? But she knew she had plans with you! That's just plain rude! Did she even apologize?"

"I'm sure she will when she realises."

"Wait. What do you mean?"

Macaque heaved a sigh and sat up, "She didn't show so I thought I'd just go see if I could find her in one of her usual haunts. I did, she was busy."

He groaned slightly, "Macaque! Why didn't you just call her? Once she realised she probably would have come and met you!"

Macaque's phone was all set up to accommodate his visual impairment - all he had to do was pull the damned thing from whatever shadows he usually stashed it in and tell it to call Bǎi Hé and this whole sad thing could have been avoided.

Macaque just shrugged and Wukong tutted as he poked the side of his head, "Don't just shrug. Why are you being all weird about this? You're throwing a pity party for no good reason."

Macaque swatted his hand away, "Look, she was happy where she was. No need to drag her away from that just to go for lunch."

"Macaque, I am actually going to smack you. Having lunch with you isn't some chore - you both have a great time whenever you meet up."

He really could understand being disheartened by the fact that this had been the third time in a row they hadn't met but Macaque hadn't even tried to get in touch with her to see what was up.

Sounding a little annoyed, Macaque responded, "Wukong, just..." He then took an aggravated breath before he sagged and admitted, "She's not a little kid, Wukong. She's growing up. I..."

Ah, okay, maybe this wasn't just Macaque being down on himself. Wukong himself really couldn't stand the thought of befriending any more humans - as fragile and short-lived as they were it was a recipe of heartache. And well, in this case, they grew up and changed fast too.

Macaque continued, "I know I should have called her, alright? I just... I don't know, I guess I'm not sure if I fit into her life anymore. I don't want her to feel like it's an obligation to have a relationship with me. And she's doing so well these days, maybe she's ready to move on from the support she needed after the Lady Bone Demon, y'know? Have a normal life - free from people like us."

They weren't unfair concerns. Humans were creatures of change - it could very well be the case that Bǎi Hé's needs and wants didn't involve Macaque like they used to but that didn't necessarily mean there was no place for Macaque in her life.

That is if Macaque really wanted to suffer through loving a mortal. There was a small part of him that wanted to tell Macaque this could be a good thing - break things off before he loved her so much that losing her haunted him before and after she was gone.

But he didn't doubt Macaque was well aware of her mortality and it felt callous to bring it up now. As he mulled over the correct response, Macaque suddenly looked a little stressed and the reason for it was quickly revealed as he pulled his ringing phone from the shadows, even without the phone explicit voicing who was calling Wukong would have been able to guess who it was.

He clasped Macaque's shoulder, "Answer it."

Macaque took a fortifying breath before using the audio command to accept the call. Wukong squeezed his shoulder once before letting go and leaving to give him some privacy but from what he could grasp from Macaque's reassurances that everything was fine, it sounded like Bǎi Hé was extremely apologetic for what had happened.

Good. She was a good kid, he really hadn't wanted to think she would deliberately blow off Macaque like that. It wasn't even a minute later than Macaque found him and explained he was leaving to go meet up with her. He forwent any "I told you so"'s or the like and just told him to have a good time.

He got a grateful kiss on the cheek and then he was on his own once more. He decided, he really needed to find something to keep him occupied lest thoughts of his relationship with MK started sounding a little too similar to Macaque's concerns about his relationship with Bǎi Hé.

--Chapter End--

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