#it'd be RUDE to just scroll past!

[dravidious]

Don’t have anything for today, so have this tweet from almost a month ago

-

Oh wow I have not checked these two in forever. Alice would absolutely dunk on musk like this lol. And of course Compass just trying their best.

Just checked through the rest, my personal faves are Alice being perceptive

And Compass just being polite

[moobloom-mention]

To Wait for You Would Mean to Wait an Eternity (And By Then It'd Be Too Late)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Summary: Macaque escapes his own death by refusing to interfere with Wukong's JTTW. Besides, Flower Fruit Mountain needs a king that'll nurse it back to its golden age, a role he believes he'll fit quite well.

Too bad Wukong isn't one to enjoy returning to his kingdom to find it overthrown by his own moon.

Content Warning(s): Implied Death

Word Count: 5758

----------

If Macaque was asked what his favorite thing about Flower Fruit Mountain was, he’d be the first to admit his fondness for its consistency.

Having risen amidst the calm waters of Earth’s equator, the island had never known the harsh bark of seasons demanding a change of climate, forever encapsulated in a state of spring if only to nurture its vibrant garden of flowers and trees.

The sky, too, never strayed far from the familiar status of clear, the sun’s routinely appearance a gentle glow everso eager to warm the fur of whatever little one had chosen to lounge about in its rays. Rarely was the sun ever blocked by the startling appearance of clouds and rain, their designated gods not daring to tread foot upon the island less it’d been deemed absolutely necessary.

Macaque supposes their fear of going anywhere near Flower Fruit Mountain meant that at least something good to come out of Wukong’s past claim as king. The sage may have disappeared from the mortal plane at least a few centuries ago, but not many beings were willing to take the risk encountering the ire of Wukong just to step on the island’s beach.

But whilst the implied protection very-well scared off any celestial beings or demons seeking new territory, it’d never exempted Macaque from needing to console little ones and fix whatever problems that’d frightened them.

He’d long outgrown the capability of counting on his hands just how many times he’d awoken at the first mention of sunlight to small monkeys hopping frantically atop his bed with urgent cries- ones painfully dismissive of his six ears -howling, “Macaque! Macaque! We lost [insert random number] banana trees last night-!”

Of course, Macaque- even amidst battling the thrall of sleep and his newly formed migraine -would always be mindful in comforting whomever had woken him, reminding them that he’d assist with planting more trees to replace whatever they’d lost. Sure it’d take a good year for the saplings to sprout and bear fruit, but that’d give them plenty of time to ensure other food alternatives remained bountiful.

Besides, if finding a few dead trees ended up being the annual tragedy his kingdom would need to face, Macaque couldn’t find himself bothered by the occasional rude awakening.

But to be savagely dragged from the comforting embrace of sleep by something heavy thumping hollowly against his forehead?

Yeah, no. He’ll take small hands shaking him awake anyday.

“Wha-?”

“Oh good, you’re not dead,” a familiar voice heaves somewhere to Macaque’s left, and he winces as the same hollow sound- which he now recognizes is a scroll -clatters violently against the stone flooring of his bedroom. It’s a harsh noise that harmonizes awkwardly with the distant chitters of other little ones roaming about the upper tunnels of the cave system. “I was beginning to think I’d have to handle the end of the world by myself-”

Now that puts distance between Macaque and the thick tendrils of sleep he’s still partially ensnared by, the king’s ears flattening in brief sorrow as he forces himself from the comforting warmth of his bedsheets and onto his feet.

He’s almost certain the little one that’d struck him is Èzuòjù, a blonde gibbon that’d never been the type to fear Macaque growing angry over his wild antics. Of course, Macaque’s genuine temper was a difficult thing to evoke, but it was the youthful spirit’s bravery that’d gotten him in good graces with the antisocial king in the first place.

Alas, it isn’t the familiar grin of a gibbon that greets Macaque’s brief scan of his bedroom, his eyebrows pinching as he finds an oddly short wall of bamboo scrolls seemingly floating across the floor. It takes an embarrassingly amount of time before he realizes that his library hadn’t suddenly learned the art of levitation, but that it was Èzuòjù himself dragging the heavy things across the room.

It’s an odd sight, really, the little one never having been the type to take an interest in reading. Learning to verbally translate Mandarin? Sure. But stealing Macaque’s reading material?

Maybe the world really was ending.

Wait-

Macaque hisses as the damning thud of a migraine vibrates against his skull, pressing a hand to his eyes if only to quell the pain and attempt to chase aside the fog of sleep still triumphantly seeking refuge behind his gaze.

The noise of discontent that’d managed to surface feels far too muted as well, his tongue heavy and uncooperative despite the verbal communication and sheer mental load this situation is bound to demand from him. “Why- my scrolls? And the world- why is the world ending?”

“The sky’s black,” Èzuòjù announces, helpful as per usual in his report. The wall of scrolls hesitates once before it clatters to the ground, Macaque’s thudding ears echoing the unapologetic “-oops-” that’s carelessly tossed his way.

“And,” the little one drawls with newfound disinterest in the pile of scrolls as he lifts his gaze toward the other. Macaque blinks expectantly when Èzuòjù suddenly pauses, the gibbon’s previous expression of quiet triumph quickly dissolving into one akin to shock. “Holy shit, you are dark.”

Ok-ay.

The world is ending.

The world is ending and it’s all because…the sky is black.

And because Macaque is dark. Whatever that could mean.

A disorientated sound claws its way up the back of his throat and he almost entertains the thought that this could all just be apart of some prank. Macaque was never the quickest to gain coherent thought after being abruptly woken, and Èzuòjù wasn’t the type to pass the opportunity to terrorize Macaque’s occasional moments of peace.

The worlding ending wouldn’t even make sense in the first place; Earth was far too early in its cycle for the Heavens to let it die, and well, the sky being black wouldn’t be anything new.

It’d only mean that the moon was still in its first phases, too weak for its light to reach the Earth and declare that Macaque should definitely be fast asleep instead of doing whatever this is.

“…and?”

The gibbon stares a beat longer before visibly shaking himself from whatever spell had possessed him. “It’s noon.”

Heavens above, no wonder Èzuòjù thought he died. He’d overslept, badly, and now it was noon.

Actually, no. He’d overslept and now the world was apparently ending, all because the sky is still dark and it’s supposedly noon-

Oh.

Oh.

“There it is.”

There’s a shrill yelp as Macaque flings himself toward his wardrobe, unguilty as he disregards the indignant expression that crosses Èzuòjù’s face.

“The world is ending, and you’re getting dressed?” the gibbon asks, incredulously.

But Macaque pays no mind toward the question, clawing desperately through his drawers in search for the familiar rough fabric of his yellow and black hanfu. It was an article of clothing that the king had practically been raised in, and he’d made dozens of copies in the past few centuries if only to keep the original hanfu safely contained within his wardrobe.

On a normal day, Macaque would’ve hissed at the idea of wearing it outside, fearful the Heavens would take his boldness as a taunt to destroy it, but today was anything but normal.

His world was soon to end, and the king could care less for his hanfu’s safety as he dressed himself in red pants and a waistplate tied to his hips by a sash only a shade lighter than his pants. His iconic scarf is the next item to wrap around his neck, Macaque certain it’d match with the pale complexion of his fur.

(“Reds and yellows, bud, reds and yellows. Lemme tell ya, they’ll change your life!”)

He almost hesitates as his hand fastens around the decoration to coincide with his outfit: a gentle crown with leaves that’d been chain-linked together by little ones. It wasn’t a sturdy headpiece by any means, and it needed to be remade as least every three months, but Macaque had never minded such a fact.

The little ones were more than happy to remake him his crown and graciously bestow it upon his head with chants of, “Our king- our king-!”

“The world isn’t ending,” he manages to murmur whilst blindly adjusting his crown, his other free hand naturally clenched at the scarf around his neck. He knows that reds and yellows will never quite fit into his albino color scheme, but Macaque would be damned if he wasn’t draped in clothes that sang of nostalgia for his own king’s return.

He dares a glance at the mirror he’d previously leaned against his wardrobe and-

…and he pauses.

Because surely, that couldn’t be him?

It resembled him undoubtedly, the reflection standing with its own expression of shock and nostalgia as a hand lies frozen against its scarf. There’s even an awkward tilt in the leaf crown it wears, the gentle vegetation having given way to stray fur still tussled from sleep.

A glance toward his arm only confirms his fears, chest squeezing with an emotion he refuses to put a name to.

Gone is the familiar shade of white fur that Macaque had grown to adore amidst his centuries of life, replaced by a pelt bearing an almost navy shade of black.

It isn’t unlike the color of the sky just beyond his window, not quite able to be called black as though whatever deity had cursed him had taken into account the sun’s weak attempts to bring light to Earth.

He looks every bit the king he’d sworn himself to become- even adorned in colors that finally compliment the red masking around his eyes.

Macaque stares and what the fuck- what the fuck-? Why- this had to be His fault- He isn’t here by my side and it feels like a brand, get it off- get it off-

Èzuòjù’s tail flicks, hesitant in the corner of Macaque’s eyes and his mouth instinctively clicks open. It’s only habit as his mind combs desperately for something to say, anything to reassure the little one so blatantly unnerved by the scene.

But it proves to be pointless, his jaw clamping shut once more as a purple vortex pools beneath his feet. The shadows hiss with discontent, a second voice to Macaque’s blinding panic whilst they lash relentlessly at his ankles.

It isn’t until his ears flatten that Èzuòjù suddenly leaps from his state of uncertainty, hand outstretched as though to stop the other.

“Wait, Macaque-!”

But the king only falls blissfully into the familiar snare of his shadows, the temporary comfort that the portal brings short-lived as he’s spat violently somewhere amidst the cave system’s Eastern Tunnels. The spare shadows still lurking at his feet rumble with a silent fury, but for once the apathy his shadows seek appears only in the truth that their master could care less for the rebellious behavior.

He’d been long deserving of the ability to freak out, and today was the day he finally had a reason to do so.

After all, Macaque was nothing but a dead monkey desperate to breathe meaning and control into his final moments of life, certain he’s soon to become the very image of a dead king that Macaque had once proclaimed Wukong to of been.

The only difference will be a body to prove the other’s death.

“…que…!”

No, he doesn’t have the time to think about that. It was noon, and Wukong could very well burst through the waterfall at any moment, seeking any ounce of attention the island could afford.

The great sage might even demand a banquet at once and of course that’d leave no room for Macaque’s tongue to intervene, it never had before. Wukong would do anything to avoid confrontation that he’d inadvertently caused, including using the excuse of hunger like he used to amidst the Brotherhood.

“…caque…!”

His excitement may even gloss over the blatant evidence that a coup had taken place in Wukong’s absence; one orchestrated by his best friend nonetheless. The blissful peace that’d come with the sage’s oversight wouldn’t last though, especially with regard toward the fact that Macaque would refuse to let the little ones approach him.

Maybe he could…oh gods, do what?

Just turn the “Great Sage, Equal to Heaven” away the moment he attempts to step foot on the island?

The bastard would be furious.

“…slo…own…!”

…or maybe he wouldn’t. Wukong’s temper had always been something that’d needed to be fed and nurtured through mutual anger, surely that could be useful. Should Macaque at least attempt to remain calm and blunt, then the sage would have no room to be combative, right?

It wasn’t perfect, but gods was Macaque reaching desperately for straws- anything to preserve the prosperity he’d sworn to eternally gift Flower Fruit Mountain and the little ones.

Besides, Wukong wouldn’t dare do something drastic and violent against someone who’d protected his homeland for centuries, let alone his best friend. There’d be no need for him to summon his staff and-

“Macaque!”

The king freezes at an instant, terror striking behind his gaze as he searches frantically for whoever had called his name. There’s a flash of golden fur- one that looks a little too familiar -and Macaque almost shrieks amidst in his attempts to not stumble.

The suffocating blanket of panic quickly sheds to make way for guilt as he finds Èzuòjù staring, the gibbon’s eyes the size of rice bowls and his fur puffed out in clear concern.

His shadows must have teleported him not far from the confinements of his room, only forgiving enough to gift him a few seconds to breathe.

“Èzuòjù,” Macaque swallows, a hand to his chest if only to calm down its rapid beat. “You scared me.”

“I scared you?” the little one questions and Macaque can do nothing but weakly offer his arm for the gibbon to leap upon, a small olive branch that’s taken almost instantly. “What is going on? The sky’s black, you’re black, the world isn’t ending apparently, but you still disappeared on me, and are we going into lockdown or-?”

“Yes,” Macaque interrupts, lunging at the opportunity to escape the ontourage of questions bound to be sitting on the gibbon’s tongue. He could barely keep his own head straight, let alone try and answer Èzuòjù’s questions should they continue.

…but going into lockdown would be a good idea. It’d certainly keep the little ones far from whatever reaction Wukong could potentially have.

“Look,” he breathes, praying that he doesn’t sound as exasperated as he feels. “Long before you were born, the Jade Emperor foretold an event that’d occur amidst the next eclipse- today’s eclipse.”

“Eclipse-?”

“The sun and moon will merge together, and when they do, a…demon of sorts will appear on Flower Fruit Mountain.”

There’s a beat of silence and Macaque almost fears that the gibbon will claim the excuse to be as phony as his weak attempts to seem collected. Èzuòjù had always been good at that.

But the gibbon only stares a moment longer before his eyebrows knit. “What do you need from me?”

Heavens above, for all the grief he gives Èzuòjù, it’s moments like this that remind Macaque exactly why he doesn’t mind the little one’s mischievous antics.

“I need everyone in the Upper Tunnels of the Western Caves, and no matter what happens, they aren’t to leave. I’ll portal anyone I’m able to find in the Eastern Caves, but a mouth to explain the situation or at least warn others would be helpful.”

There’s only a firm nod before the gibbon scampers off, presumably to locate the desired caves and provide relief to whatever panicked brother needed it.

The crushing wave of relief at being alone once more collides oddly with the cautiously suppressed anger that’d been arising within Macaque’s stomach, a dangerous concoction of panic and frustration over the situation at hand.

Wukong was never meant to return, and it was such a fact that had gifted Macaque the boldness to ascend the throne in the first place.

Macaque might as well surrender his title of king anyway, now sharing more in common with a wife whose husband had come home early and was soon to catch her amidst her affair. For Heaven's sake, he was stumbling about the extensive cave system if only to portal away any little ones like a wife would her paramour.

It’s a measurement of safety, he tells himself if only to comfort his mind.

History was not one to take kindly to being rewritten, but two centuries had proven Macaque’s attempts to be a blinding success. He refuses to give Wukong yet another chance to ruin everything he’d done to protect both their subjects and the sage’s legacy of chaos.

It’d only take one stray slip of tongue for his life’s work to be uprooted. The little ones would learn that Wukong was in fact not deceased, and that Macaque had sworn the sage’s allegiance where it didn’t belong.

After all, Wukong had never proclaimed himself to be allied with the subjects of his mountain; it was only the pride that came with claiming ownership to a kingdom that he had entertained.

You are not ruining this, Macaque swears, and the mantra continues in his attempts to seek out any stray little ones.

It’s only once the panicked chatter of ape-speak settles toward the western side of the cave system that Macaque finds himself content pacing the Central Cave. It was a gracious clearing, full of vegetation and still bearing the same hut that Wukong had built nearly a millennium ago. If there was anywhere the sage would seek company first, it would be here, only a short journey from the cave’s initial entrance.

Macaque isn’t sure how long it takes for his theory to reign true, his ears flicking as the soft hiss of a cloud dissipates somewhere beyond the cave’s waterfall. Clumsiness writes itself in the heavy thrum of each step, the familiar sound not unlike if Macaque attempted to recognize someone’s handwriting.

The note of recklessness continues as the steps grow closer, and Macaque is certain that even if he lacked six ears, he’d still be able to hear the sheer weight behind the sage’s feet.

“Mihou!” that damned voice sings, not unlike a demon outstretching their hand in faux kindness. “Little ones! I’ve returned home!”

Home.

Macaque tries his hardest to chase the anxiety and bittersweet sorrow that laces his tongue, bidding his lips to remain firm in an expression of displeasure.

Perhaps in another life “Mihou” would’ve been all Wukong needed to say before Macaque would spring into chirps of glee, smiling fondly as little ones tackled their righteous king to the ground. Apologies would cascade from the sage’s mouth like a waterfall, and tearful laughter would consume his six ears as they attempted to make up for the time they’d regrettably lost in the other’s absence.

Faintly his mind traces another life, in which Wukong calls only out to the little ones, far too acquainted with the concept that Macaque would never again be able to step foot on Flower Fruit Mountain.

But such fantasies would never be the life Macaque could live within; they’d died the day that the ex-moon had been gifted a choice:

Mourn and daydream over the useless taunts of “what-if”, or focus on protecting the little ones and ensure the prosperity of their lives.

The decision was obvious, so both he and Flower Fruit Mountain had been forced to cut the strings of codependency that’d once kept them enthralled with their past king.

Wukong’s voice yells throughout the cave once more and Macaque hates how heavy the crown sitting atop his head has grown.

Wukong had never needed a crown to proclaim his status of king. His very essence exuded that of power, an ambitious conquest that Macaque had never found himself caring enough to venture toward. He wasn’t king through acts of bravery, nor because he’d inherited it righteously in the death of his best friend.

Macaque was only king because he’d been left to his own devices, and because the crown atop his head exclaimed that such a statement must be true.

A flash of gold finally peaks into the cave’s clearing, and Macaque swallows the desperate whine that’d made its home within his throat, forced into silence out of fear he’d call out for someone he’d sworn he’d buried nearly two centuries ago.

Wukong was meant to be dead and yet here he stood, uncharacteristically shy as he sought refuge behind a grand fern.

“Wukong.”

Said monkey’s head snaps to meet Macaque’s wide gaze, those familiar golden eyes crinkling into something akin to joy before they flee back toward the vibrant greenery in a nostalgic display of guilt and panic.

If not for the sombersome scene, Macaque is certain he would’ve smiled at how familiar the expression is, not unlike the reaction Wukong would have whenever Macaque smacked him upside the head for doing something stupid. It’d all been in good fun, amidst a fun when they’d all been so young and naive, too focused on lounging about and cracking jokes to worry themselves with immortality and power.

The clearing stills, and for a moment, he fears that they’ll both continue the awkward stalemate.

But the anxiety on Wukong’s face quickly falls apart, giving way to a quizzical expression as their eyes meet once more. The sage isn’t unlike a rabbit as he bounds forward, Macaque’s rule of personal space forgotten in Wukong’s eagerness to get a closer look at the newly-turned-black monkey.

“Something's…different about you,” the great sage begins, ever-so-observant as Macaque tries not to squirm beneath his gaze. He doesn’t care to denote the uncomfortable stance of the celestial monkey, springing up dramatically as he chitters with excitement. “Oh, I know! C’mon, bud, even I’d be able to tell you’ve dyed your fur. Kinda miss the grey, though.”

“White,” Macaque corrects, far from amused.

“Pfft, same thing.”

Well, Macaque supposes there is one thing he could always trust Wukong to do; disappoint him time and time again.

“Fun crown, too. The little ones manage to strangle you into it?”

And how could he forget Wukong’s habit of releasing tension through attempts to embarrass those around him?

“No, actually,” Macaque grits, trying his hardest to maintain poise. The crown had been a thoughtful gift bestowed upon him, and as much as the thought made his six ears turn red, Macaque felt much more at-ease wearing it in the face of his past king.

(“You deserve to be king,” the crown sang, sitting content atop his fur. “You wouldn’t of been given it otherwise.”)

“It was a gift. They missed having a king, so…”

So they’d wrapped Macaque in the finest jewelry and armor of Wukong’s treasury, completing his coronation with a carefully weaved crown and Macaque’s now infamous red scarf, whose unique red hue was the result of a dye from the flowers of Flower Fruit Mountain and a few feathers that’d been “borrowed” from a Phoenix.

“That’s adorable,” Wukong grins, an almost knowing expression on his face. “Ya’ think they’ll make me one if I ask them?”

“I didn’t have to ask for mine.”

“Is that a no, or?”

“It’s a no.”

“…it’s my turn, then.”

And Wukong bows, his chest low to the ground as though he were expecting for the crown to be transferred onto his head.

Oh, Macaque realizes, dumbly. Wukong does expect the crown.

His heart makes an ugly snarl, but the sound that comes from his throat is nothing but unkempt laughter. Quickly he swipes a claw at the tears forming at his eyes, if only to keep the salty water from dampening his fur. “You expect me to give you my crown?”

“I mean, every king does need a crown, doesn’t he? C’mon, Mac, just share this once-”

Wukong lunges and adrenaline collides violently with the blood cells running through Macaque’s veins. His brain feels as though it’d been dowsed by the ice-cold bucket of panic, falling into a state of defense even despite the fact the Wukong had clearly aimed only for the crown.

A furious shriek beats Macaque to the punch, fangs entering the scene before being followed closely by the harsh sound of Wukong screeching.

Macaque blinks once, vision clearing to reveal the “Great Sage” himself flailing his arm like a helpless infant and Èzuòjù’s fangs sunken deep into scarred flesh.

“Let go!” Wukong shrieks in Mandarin, and Macaque knows damn well that Èzuòjù understands the command.

After all, the gibbon had been the one to demand that Macaque teach him Mandarin in the first place, now well-educated in translating the language despite the fact that Èzuòjù’s vocal cords would never enable the gibbon to speak it.

Wukong is pleading on deaf ears, as the king of Flower Fruit Mountain has yet to demand the gibbon to release his prey.

It isn’t until Macaque extends his own arm that the gibbon returns to his righteous king’s side, snarling once toward Wukong before settling down at Macaque’s shoulders.

“Little one,” Wukong whines, exasperated as he cradles his wounded arm, and the noise feels…odd as it bounces against Macaque’s thrumming eardrums. It’s a form of ape-speak that the king hadn’t heard in over seven centuries, old but blatantly familiar dripping from the sage’s tongue.

Heavens above, Wukong hadn’t even attempted to keep up with the rapidly changing dialect of his mother tongue.

It’d been at least a handful of centuries since “little one” had turned into the gentle chirp of “little one”.

“I thought I told you to stay with the others,” Macaque begins, forcing himself to ignore Wukong’s noise of confusion. Perhaps if the “Great Sage” had put effort into his own mother tongue, then he’d have the right to tune into the conversation. “What if they come searching for you?”

“They won’t,” Èzuòjù huffs, teeth still bared but certainly not toward Macaque. “And who-? Is that the demon? He could’ve done something if I hadn’t appeared!”

“He woulda just stolen my crown for a moment,” Macaque murmurs in a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation. “He wouldn’t have hurt me.”

Still, Macaque finds himself doubtful of his own words. After all, Wukong had still yet to understand the reason behind Èzuòjù’s aggression.

“Mihou,” the sage complains. “You better be reprimanding him for biting me.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Macaque rolls his eyes before gently petting at the fur surrounding Èzuòjù’s face. “But I’m glad you bit him, I was seconds away from doing it myself.”

“That does not look like reprimanding.”

“You deserved it,” Macaque shrugs. “Don’t try and swipe what isn’t yours.”

“But I’m the king! I’m in need of a crown.”

“The King of Flower Fruit Mountain already wears one,” Macaque hums, bowing his head slightly if only to allow Èzuòjù to try and straighten the tussled crown. “I don’t think I see any other kings in need of one.”

Wukong freezes, and for a heartbeat Macaque almost expects to be punched, even with a little one crouched on his shoulders.

But the Great Sage only stares with wide, uncertain eyes. “You wouldn’t-”

“Èzuòjù,” Macaque interrupts, his voice uncharacteristically harsh as his ape-speak blends into Mandarin. “This is not a conversation for you to hear.”

Èzuòjù’s eyes almost match that of Wukong’s, though a deeper shade of concern versus betrayal runs rampid. “But, Macaque-”

The gibbon is given no further chance to speak, quickly whisked into a vortex that’d put the little one with his siblings in the Western Tunnels. This fight would not be Èzuòjù’s to hear nor attempt to interfere with.

“You’ve been gone for several centuries,” Macaque continues, quickly dismissing the bitterness that’d threatened to lace his words. “Y’know, when you told me to do anything to protect Flower Fruit Mountain, I took it to heart.”

“I didn’t think that meant ‘take the throne’!” Wukong gapes, throat raspy with what Macaque can only hope is disbelief and not strain from attempting ape-speak.

“Oh, of course,” he agrees and now he allows sarcasm to drip from his tongue. “‘Suppose I was just meant to, y’know, keep it warm and then lay down like a good dog, yeah? ‘Heel, Mihou, your king has returned’!”

The words taste as bitter as Macaque recalls them to be, still clear in his mind despite them having been uttered nine centuries ago when they were still on good terms with the brotherhood. He only has Wukong to blame, who’d never let his companion live down the embarrassment he’d caused during one of their many meetings.

Amidst his own exhaustion, Macaque had accidentally stolen Wukong’s seat at the end of the table, a mistake that the table had at first brushed aside. After all, the closeness of the two monkeys could easily explain this odd occurence to of been planned.

Macaque would sit in Wukong’s seat, and Wukong in Macaque’s.

Alas, there’d been a soft croon of “Aww, Mihou, keeping it warm just for little ol’ me? No worries, your king has returned-” before the table realized that the white monkey had indeed made a genuine mistake, bursting into laughter whilst shades of red painted Macaque’s face and ears.

His expression hardens.

“I refuse to kneel before you again.”

“But I am still your king,” Wukong deflects, bold. “And this is still our home.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Macaque shrugs, nearly shocking himself with how nonchalant his taunts sound. It’s a stark contrast to the consistent stutter his heart bears and he’s almost grateful that Wukong doesn’t share his enhanced hearing. “It took centuries, but Flower Fruit Mountain doesn’t remember you anymore. At least, not as anything but their island’s first king, who’s long gone in history. You can’t remain here and call it home.”

Wukong’s smirk is nothing but teeth, lips curled into an ugly expression of gloat. “So, you’re, what? Banishing me from my own kingdom?”

“Yeah.”

Heavens above, Macaque almost swoons over the way the sage’s smug expression drops into something more masked and deadly.

“Don’t be cruel,” Wukong growls. “You’re being cruel.”

I’m terrified, he instinctively corrects. Not cruel.

Wukong merely could not stay on Flower Fruit Mountain. Macaque had built a life that the island’s prior king could not be apart of.

Macaque’s ears flatten. Perhaps he was being cruel.

But who would cruelty’s mother be if not terror?

“Your stupidity and absence killed this island- killed me before I ascended the throne,” Macaque reports, his tail rigid as he stares at the ape he’d sworn he’d buried. No, he thinks, he’d only buried the memory of Wukong amidst his begging to the Heavens that the bastard would never return.

But an eclipse rages on just beyond the curtained waterfall.

And Macaque’s fur will never be white again, forever branded by Wukong’s misdeeds.

“For centuries I called for you, begging the stars to let you return to Flower Fruit Mountain once again, but never once did you heed my call,” he tsks, “You stood tall, strong as ever in the face of freedom, even as I mourned the very thought of you.”

And Macaque hates how his own conscious yearns to protect Wukong’s mistakes, with screams that selflessness and vulnerability had never been the melted rivers of iron that Wukong’s strength was forged within. Neither was it true that kindness was the native tongue the “Great Sage” could conjugate the words of with ease.

Only the familiar sensation of anger could appease Wukong in the face of confrontation, like a heron poised but still ever-so irritated in its wait for prey to arrive.

But unlike the common tale between a heron and fish, Macaque does not quiver nor dart beneath the venomous stare of death itself, standing tall and arrogant as Wukong does before him.

He cared not for the sage’s opinion on that fact that Flower Fruit Mountain was now Macaque’s to protect, and whether such protection was against outside demands or the island’s own previous king would never matter; Macaque would rather face death itself than forfeit his centuries of work.

“I haven’t killed you,” Wukong breathes, voice an inch from being a hiss as his shoulders sit strained with what Macaque can assume is the thin lacing of desperation. “If I had, you’d already be haunting me. In death you would have followed me, taking any form- moon or shadow -just to argue and speak with me.”

And like a newborn fawn, Wukong lurches forward, a hand clenching tightly over his chest as though he were soon to burst into laughter. “It’s in life that you refuse to follow me. You’ve agreed to abandon me and try to banish me from our home.”

Ironic, for Wukong to claim he’d been the one thrown aside.

Macaque stands firm, gaze unwavering. “The ‘Great Sage’ doesn’t need me to find some other island to conquer. Your lust for power has already settled any domain of this realm yours to take.”

There’s a beat of silence, and a vicious snarl hovers atop Wukong’s lips.

Perhaps in another life, amidst the gentle mantras of tranquility and suffrage, Wukong would have paused to acknowledge his misdeeds and agreed it to be best that he found a new kingdom to proclaim as his own. Or perhaps in another life this situation would have never existed, as Wukong chose to live his days peacefully on Flower Fruit Mountain instead of daring to wreak havoc on the Heavens.

But Macaque can only mourn for what could have been, for in this life Wukong was still a creature birthed with the knowledge he’d need to fight his way through life, a mantra that’d grown him obsessed with sneaking past the title of “distrustful and cunning” and proclaiming the words to be sisters of “ambition”.

Macaque knows well that Wukong is an unstoppable force that now stands firmly before an immovable rock, one not unlike the one Wukong had destroyed the moment he was born.

Today will be the day legends will speak of, the Heavens concede, safe from the sage’s wrath amidst the clouds. They’ll pass stories of the rivalry that’d caused the obsessive relation between shadow and host.

For if the Great Sage, an Equal of the Heavens, could not have his moon by his side, then he would have him forever in his shadow, lying in wait for his righteous king to order him about.

Today, Macaque would learn the true sensation of dying, if only to return and haunt Wukong at every turn.

[always---wrong]

Okay, so I wanted to discuss the situation with Alastor, his canonical sexuality, and fans.

I have seen the two sides alot.

So one side ships Al with numerous characters and sees this as casual fun.

And the other thinks this is disrespectful cause he is ace, or Aroace.

(I believe that he is Aroace. His va said so, his character has shown no interest in romance, and Viv may have confirmed it at some point)

Now, I am sex repulsed ace and I'm aro. And I have strong opinions. Alastor is my favorite character in Hazbin Hotel, he is also the FIRST confirmed ace character I've seen. (This doesn't include subtly implied characters) Because Al is the first and I care for him he is very important to me.

My opinion is really mixed because on one side it's; yeah, it is a fandom, and fandoms ship. It's what they do. Its also kind a rude to judge someone for their favorite pairings and stuff, in my opinion.

On the other side though I'm hurt. I am a queer person with basically no rep. And I hadn't realized how upset I was by this until I saw discourse over this character. I had FORGOTTEN that it was possible to have confirmed canonical ace characters. I had gotten so used to that just being a head cannon. And not only just an ace character but also an Aroace character. And not just that but a seemingly non sex favorable ace character. I would even argue he is sex repulsed.

My real problem with all this is:

Yes, I KNOW ace characters can have sex. But do you know who else can? Literally every single allosexual character. I KNOW aros can date. But you know who else can? Everyone else. The appeal of ACTUALLY having characters with the same sexuality as me is that they would be like me. Cause I and other aces like me never, ever get stories like that. So many times in media I would be enjoying a character who had shown NO interest in sex/romance and would suddenly be partnered up with another just for the heck of it. This has happened SO many times it's not even funny. It's incredibly frustrating.

So, the point I'm trying to make is that; YES, there are aces who have sex. HOWEVER, a large number of us do not. And it's like everyone forgets that. Your not writing Alastor having sex with Angel cause your showing the vast spectrum of asexuality. Your most likely writing it cause it's sex between two hot characters. It's simply maddening.

(One thing I wanted to say was, despite the fact that Al is ace i don't think it's bad to find him attractive. He is very pleasing to look at so I understand allos finding him hot. However I'm not sure where I stand with people sexualizing him. I think I'm leaning towards, 'please don't do it'.)

Now, the worst thing though is when I'm looking for content to enjoy. When I found out Al was canonically ace I was so happy and excited. I'm pretty sure this situation wouldn't make me nearly as frustrated if it weren't for the overwhelming amount of sexual content for Al. Some would be fine. I could just scroll past it if this were the case. But it is not. Content for Al is MOSTLY sexual. That's why I don't believe people when they keep saying they aren't invalidating aces because almost every time I go looking for a fic I have to scroll for HOURS just to find few non ship fics.

I can't even use the Asexual Alastor tag because all that does is bring me to a bunch of fics where the author is like 'he's ace trust me,' then proceeds to write smut.

Why can't I even use a tag made for aces without being drowned in smut. It's so frustrating! Like I'm getting to a point where I wish the authors would stop using the tag and openly admit they made him not ace for the story. Like I know your trying to not throw away his canonical sexuality but I mean at this point I think it'd be better if you did. And if someone is going to write sex favorable ace Al then please leave it to the aces. I trust us to at least weave it into his character instead of stating it and acting like it's there when it's not.

So basically: I don't mind if you ship him, just don't say he's ace or Aroace if your neither of those in ship/smut content. I'm sick of trying to find content that isn't sex/romance in Aroace tags!

I don't want to judge people for liking a ship. But I'm really tired.

ON A DIFFERENT NOTE, I would love to see content with Al and Lucifer. Like them hating each other to like frenemies. It would be so funny.

Anyone have any platonic content with Al and the rest of the cast???

[butmakeitgayblog]

So we know CI Clarke like to nibble nibble on Lexa whenever wherever. But are there any instances where she’s literally latched on her coz of something her wife did or say that’s just too adorable?

There's plenty of times in their day to day where Lexa is simply too cute, too gorgeous for words and Clarke quite literally just wants to eat her up. Her secret little pair of reading glasses or the way she smacks her lips in her sleep, the way she gets broody and tucks her face into Clarke's neck when she isn't feeling well. The way she can volley between curtious and so fucking rude it'd make your eyes water, the way she scrunches her nose up at something she finds so tacky she can't even begin to contain herself.

There's just so many shades of Lexa, and each one is perfectly wonderful, and extremely biteable 😌

But also, the thing with Lexa is that she's not a particularly outwardly vocal person about her feelings. She's not a partner who says "I love you" often, because she prefers to show it in her actions. Words are too easy to fake. And she's not the kind of person who uses pet names in a genuine sense (beyond Darling) very often, because she loves Clarke's name. The sound of it, the taste of it, the way it makes her feel knowing that name and that girl belong to her, every bit as much as she belongs to it. So she uses it.

So when it comes to Lexa, it's always in the quiet moments that Clarke has learned to listen for the big things. To recognize big moments that really show all the thoughts and feelings that have sat tidy behind the veil of Lexa's carefully crafted indifference.

Because those are the moments when Lexa will turn to her and say something that just... knocks the absolute fucking wind out of her. A random Saturday morning that feels so mundane her past self would cry in agony just at the thought of it, silently drinking their coffees and sharing pain au chocolat that the cook made fresh that morning. Reading or scrolling their phones while ignoring each other's incessant yawning and absently running hands along each other's back, still stiff from sleep.

Those are always the times when Lexa will just let the veil drop to Clarke's "What are you thinking?" with a thoughtful and slowly hummed, "That I'm happy... That... if one day I had no memory of my life, I'd never want to forget this. I think I'd be fine not remembering one single other thing about myself. Except you. And us. Just like this... I'd want you to always tell me stories about this."

It's bizarre and seemingly out of nowhere, but that's why it's so perfectly Lexa in that in way, and truthfully, how is Clarke expected to do anything other than physically attack her wife with nibbles, bites, and kisses that leave the kind of marks that make sure she wont forget? Can't forget. At least not for the rest of the day.

[mbti-enemies]

hey there guys, I wanna ask for advice on something if you're cool with it

I've always found the ships between INFPs and ENTJs so intriguing, they make such good dynamic tropes in theory and I wondered if it'd actually work well in real life

So I've got a new job recently and there is this girl there who's an ENTJ, she's got sharp cheekbones and dimples, tanned skin, long black hair, the prettiest shaped dark eyes I've ever seen, and she's so damn funny, wit, intelligent, bold, confident...

and GOSH, I'm just so very gay

She's so out of my league I didn't even consider anything actually working out, besides I've always been more inclined towards XNFXs, I just have the best past experiences and connections with them, but this girl's got me on my knees.

My colleagues are always hanging out together and they call me to tag along with them, I'm usually introspective and prefer small groups or one-to-one hangouts, but I don't wanna seem rude or antisocial, so I go, specially because I was/am new there and I'm not against making friends.

This girl - we'll call her Nell - came up to me and asked for my Instagram on my first day there and we had this conversation

Nell, scrolling through my acc: you don't post pictures of yourself?

Me: no, I'm not photogenic

Nell: oh please, spare me the BS, I look at you and my mind goes "she looks just like a dream, the prettiest girl I've ever seen" (yes she fucking sang that)

My reaction was basically the personification of a keyboard smash.

From there we became friends and she kept boldly flirting with me, leaving no space for doubts that she was flirting. But me, being the oblivious insecure dingus that I am, thought it was all a joke, like a friendly flirting, I don't know, I'm socially awkward, give me a break

I think she's only around me because she thinks I look cute, and I feel like if she actually gets to know me she won't like me anymore and that terrifies me, she's so WOW, and I'm so no big deal.

Anyways, yesterday we were preparing a birthday party for a co-worker when she came from behind me and turned my face to her as though she was gonna kiss me, she did it before but she never actually went for it, so I leaned in myself and pulled back before actually touching her lips, she widened her eyes and her jaw dropped slightly

Everyone was like "oh my god, were you actually gonna do it?", "I can't believe you missed the opportunity, she was literally right there", "were you about to make out?" and she replied with "not in front of everyone, give a girl some privacy" then she looked at me, "I wouldn't mind a kiss rn tho" pulled me by the waist, LEANED IN AND KISSED ME, it was just a quick peck, but still. then she pulled back and went "is this ok?" and I replied by kissing her back.

I don't know where I took that confidence from, but that's not the point

I HEKEHSKDGWKHSJDEH guys, I'm not good with this socialising thing, I've never dated anyone before, I never give people opening to actually get to know me or get closer, I've always been lonely (partially by choice), I have abandonment/trust issues, and yes, I go to therapy. Been recently diagnosed with ASD and ADHD, which fucks everything else that much more, I have no idea what I'm doing, but I really like this girl

It's just, I don't know, help me, please, what do I do? what's the way for an ENTJs heart? :D

...... soooo anon

you already have the entjs heart im pretty sure. i think what you need is a self confidence and self love boost so here is *boosts you (you sounds SWEET and AMAZING and LOVELY and you like her so beautifully and what more could she ask for)

anyways, i understand that you're scared. but you respect entj, as well as crush on her, so respect her decision to like you ;)

respect her liking you and let her decide whether you're good enough for her (you so are btw shut up already), open up, and just ask this girl out. if you like her, that's enough, it really is.

literally just go ask her out do it shoo everyone is rooting for you and the girl already kissed you infp what more of a sign could you POSSIBLY ask for. give us an update after <3

[nothingtoseeherebyeexx]

hi, i was just wondering if you could please put your story under a cut when posting it? don't get me wrong, i'm really enjoying reading it, but it'd be better if it was under a cut so people don't have to scroll past it every time they come across it

i really mean this in the nicest way possible, sorry if this seems rude. hope you have a lovely day :)

i deadass don’t know how to do it. it bothers me, too, and i thought ppl saw it differently on screen?? i’ll try to do something abt it, if someone knows how pls tell me!

thank you for telling tho i had no clue you didn’t see a cut somewhere

[enbysiriusblack]

“severus fights james and his friends because he wants to control/be with lily and he thinks james is in the way of that, even though lily just doesn't like him in that way. and james fights severus because severus is picking a fight with him/severus is bigoted. “

Hey so I was scrolling through the tl ans saw you responding to an ask. I totally agree with you that Lily is more of an important character on most of ur points. But i saw this and was genuinely wondering how you got that from the books? This is genuinely not to attack you or be rude. But I saw the canon completely differently than how you have interpreted it, and I do wonder where you get that point from? Specifically that Severus is the one starting things while James is only fighting back? And that Severus wants to control Lily?

Once again this is not me trying to be rude, and I also do not hate James. But Jkr said that James went after Severus mostly because of his connection to Lily. And in the only scene we really see, its James and Sirius going after Severus first while he was sitting under a tree by himself. I wouldn’t call two vs one a rivalry. And I wouldn’t call that Severus going after James.

Once again genuinely curious bc it seems to be a popular notion and I truly dont know where ppl are getting it from.

the moment we see james and sirius going after severus is what i meant with james pocking on severus for sirius (i mentioned that in the post)

Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored...

...'This'll liven you up, Padfoot,' Said James quietly, 'Look who it is'

James is very happily playing with his snitch, he only approaches Severus because Sirius is bored and wants something fun to do (Sirius finds fights fun- i mean he's a british teenager with family issues. it'd be surprising if he didn't find fights fun, and everyone found fights fun at school)

i didn't mean this specific scene. but, for instance, severus invented the sectumsempra curse. which is like,, very dark and torture-y. i can imagine him using it on james or his friends (without knowing how bad the spell is, like harry does with draco). i do think he wouldn't have used it knowing how bad it was, but based on being a kid/teenager with people i hate and have ongoing drama with and having drawn their gravestones and dead bodies (i also have a neighbour kid that recently did that exact thing so i'm assuming imagining the classmates you hate dying as a kid/teen is a fairly common experience), i can very much imagine severus would have made the curse with james in mind. and i think he does use a version of it in this scene, where he gashes james' face so deeply his robes splatter with blood.

also, as i said in that post, i don't think when we see people's memories, it is a completely true viewing of the past. i think it's like how memories are- biased and wavering over time. and since this is severus' memory, i wouldn't take it wholly to heart (but that is more my hc, and i don't think jkr wrote legilimency to be how actual memories work)

continuing on this actual scene (i'm reading it rn and i'm trying to focus on answering your ask but i can't help giggling at the amount of times sirius is called handsome, every line is like "sirius handsomely turned to snape", "sirius head turned, handsomely" /j) i sorts get what you mean with james picking a fight with severus because of lily, but it seems to be more for sirius' entertainment in this scene. lily asks him what severus has done to him, and james just says it's the dact he exists- which does show james doesn't really have a reason for this particular interaction, and it was purely for sirius. but he does say he'll stop if lily goes out with him- making it seem as if he is fighting with severus for lily. but i honestly think that line was more james just trying to wind her up- he knows she'll say no. james acts, during this scene, like a standup comedy act. every sentence seems to intentionally said to receive a specific reaction from his audience (his classmates). the line gives me the same vibe as a heckler at a comedy act, and the comedian interacting back with them.

one of the spells james uses against severus (where he dangles him upside down) is in severus' book of spells that he invented. so for james to know that, it means severus must have used it in the past (not sure if it was canon or not about that spell being a trend at this time or not), but severus would have used it on james or his friends previously for james to know the spell.

then what i said about severus picking a fight with james for lily, and james picking a fight with severus because of severus being bigoted/already picking a fight with him. this comes from when harry goes to remus and sirius after seeing severus' memory.

"I think James was everything Snape wanted to be... And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to the eyes in the dark arts, and James- whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry- always hated the dark arts."

"Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James, so you couldn't really expect him to take that lying down, could you?"

sirius says severus picked a fight with james because james got what severus wanted (lily, but also academic validation, with james being naturally talented, which i should have mentioned in the previous post, but i was focusing on lily, not james and severus). sirius then says james picked a fight with severus because of severus' interest in dark magic (and we do see james getting furious when severus calls lily a 'mudblood', james was about to stop before severus said that). and then remus says james, in later years, only went after severus because severus was still going after him.

i didn't mean severus was starting things- more that severus was continuing things. i know they argued when they first met about houses, and i think lily then being put in gryffindor after that argument infuriated severus and caused him to see james as a threat, whilst james found it humorous and would likely mock severus for losing his best friend to gryffindor, which then their rivalry escalated from there and continued because severus was into lily and because james didn't like how severus was into dark arts/severus was already going after him and his friends.

about severus controlling lily. most of what we see of their friendship is very much severus trying to control lily. he tells her she better be in slytherin, he tells her not to listen to petunia because she's just a muggle (this could just be trying to comfort a friend, of course, but the insinuation that lily shouldn't listen to her because she's a muggle, not because she's just jealous and bitter is very weird), lily tries to get severus to stop hanging out with bigoted people that hurt her friends and severus just complains about james and remus, turning the subject to what 'she's doing wrong' instead of actually listening to her, he threatens to sleep outside gryffindor tower unless lily comes to see him, he asks for only lily's life to be spared (not caring if james or even harry, a 1 yr old, die). seems pretty controlling to me.

[justsome-di]

Hey, if you found this annoying--you could have just scrolled past. I'm not some big-name author or corporation deceiving you. I made this for me and my followers who were reading the story and maybe for their followers if they reblogged it. I made it based off of a writing exercise that I saw. I didn't think it'd circulate like this because I've been on tumblr for ten years, and my writing has never circulated so far.

It is a free book on AO3. This is a meme I made for a free book.

To everyone who reads this and cannot wait to tell me how awful I am for having fun advertising a story on AO3--please just move on. Please stop leaving replies and reblogs about how I'm annoying or cruel because I made a meme.

It's not cool to do a sort-of-callout under my post that only directs rude comments to me. I wrote a queer love story, and I'm sorry some of you will never read it. Because it's pretty good. People like it, and people in the comments of AO3 talk about it, and I love talking to people who have read it.

I'm sorry it wasn't cute enough for you. I'm sorry it didn't meet your requirements. But maybe this post just wasn't for you. Or for the other people who are calling me lame or whatever.

what is going on in r/amitheasshole is this man okay

[fauzhee10069]

Ok its valid that u still wanna tag it ill just block u in that case!!! I do still strongly believe in not tagging negative stuff wirh the ship/character names br agree to disagree, so. Plus yeah I get very emotional about that stuff that's cuz im autistic n seeing negative stuff on my hyperfixations/special interests is always rlly icky to me but there's honestly nothing i can change about that haha.

And yes i didn't read all of that post I jsut scrolled past and read what my eyes read automatically (because i don't wanna read sth ik i won't like haha as u have said before!!! It's hust that the tumblr cutting off posts thing didn't work for me cuz it bugs a lot), so sorry for any misunderstandings on my part :) but yes I'll block u so I don't see ur posts since I don't like them!!!

Also im soeey if I came off as rude or sth in this or the last ask im just bas at phrasing xuz English isn't isn't first language and like I've said im autistic, and i often come across as aggressive n rude when im actually rlly not. N i promise I may have been upset but not aggressive at any point!!! If it reads rhat way obv that's still on me, but I just wanted to note thwt it'd not MEANT to be read that way xD

Sounds like you have calmed down a bit which is NICE.

Tbh, your argument back then would be much appreciated if you could convince me why I should love beefleaf rather than shut down my opinion.

yeah I get very emotional about that stuff that's cuz im autistic n seeing negative stuff on my hyperfixations/special interests is always rlly icky to me but there's honestly nothing i can change about that haha.

Well... understandable, still, that doesn't make it automatically obligatory for me as internet stranger to prioritize your feelings.

And yes i didn't read all of that post I just scrolled past and read what my eyes read automatically

Next time, read until the end, or at least if you don't like it, skim to the bottom for TL;DR or just press back button.

It's just that the tumblr cutting off posts thing didn't work for me cuz it bugs a lot

Yeah, that's tumblr fault.

Back then post with 'keep reading' really cuts through what's below there, tumblr now will only obscure according to their own character limit, so at best, I can only give some warnings.

English isn't my first language

And so do I

yes I'll block u so I don't see ur posts since I don't like them!

Well, go ahead. Honestly, things like this don't need to be a problem if you just block me from the start.

Goodbye internet stranger.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

okay so warning to everyone: MAJOR ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS so if you haven't done it yet, scroll away!

---

It had been months since you've last heard of your dear Harbinger, no news and lots of rumors that he had perished in battle would flit in and out of your hearing range. You've decided you had enough, and proceed to leave for the city of wisdom instead and maybe distract yourself (who are you even kidding, you want answers and the first place to get them is in the city renowned for wisdom)

You take in the Akasha terminal and go on about your usual routine.

But something is... off.

You wake up, prepare breakfast, Childe comes by and gives you your morning kiss before settling down to eat and talk about your plans for tomorrow. He leaves and you go on about your business and work, the sun sets and he's home once again, greeting you with another kiss. You both skip making dinner and head out to eat at Third Round Knockout before some dumbass makes rude gestures at you and Childe puts him in his place. You were both giggling like lunatics when you head home and sleep soundly in his arms and to the long tune of a beep and--

You wake up, prepare breakfast, Childe comes by and gives you your morning kiss before settling down to eat--

But then your morning was ruined by a giant moth monster clambering your table, ruining the delicacies. You turn to childe only to find him missing as the monster whimpers and beeline for you.

Scared, you run and run and hide from it--

You wake up to a horrible nightmare of something chasing you. You sigh and turn to your side only to find your ginger lover missing.

And then your door is knocked down by the same moth creature--

It whimpers pathetically and you pause your terror and act at the weird noise. You have a feeling you know it, that you shouldn't be scared of it and against your better judgement, you approach it. You see fear and relief in its lone eye as it rubs its head awkwardly and affectionately at your thighs before making a lonely shrill and hugging you.

Its very familiar.

Suddenly you feel it tense and look at your in panic as a loud beep goes over your ears and you swear you could hear it scream your name--

You wake up feeling tired.

---

When Childe had learned of your departure towards Sumeru, he immediately went straight to the city of wisdom to search for you. What he was greeted with was a city in lockdown and the sages apparently doing some shady stuff.

He contacted one of the Harbingers regarding this matter only to receive no answer and a stern "don't interrupt"

So he interrupted.

It took long, long resets before he managed to find your space where you were the host. It didn't help that he had to navigate with his Foul Legacy and a monster in an escapade of dreams just spelled disaster. The few times he had reached you, he was immediately seen with terror and confusion.

You don't know that you are in a dream.

But Childe wouldn't give up, even if he had to keep reminding you slowly, if he had to beg just for you to look at him, he would do it.

Afterall, how long had you waited for him? He thinks that in comparison, this little loop is nothing to your patience with his own.

OHOHOHOHOOH THIS IS ABSOLUTELY *CHEF'S KISS* SCRUMPTIOUS THANK YOU ANON <333

you wake up feeling tired.

in the past it'd be hardly unusual, but ever since you began sleeping next to Childe your sleep has been deep and restful, wrapped in your lover's embrace, so to wake up with an air of exhaustion hanging over your head makes you blink in confusion. you shake your head, slightly dazed. it's nothing, today will be a normal day aside from the tiredness, you're sure.

but you're not sure. something feels off. although Childe is by your side, he's strangely wooden and flat, eyes even more dull than usual. he does nothing unless you tug him along, trailing behind you, his hand cold in your own grip, and when you ask him to give you a moment alone he simply nods and walks away.

the word "lifeless" crosses your mind, and you shiver, rubbing your eyes tiredly. something- a dream, or perhaps a memory- pulls at the corners of your mind as you slump onto a bench, massaging your temples and wincing when pain sparks through your head.

you're... so tired, so tempted to just lay down and fall asleep on this uncomfortable bench, but you're yanked out of your stupor when you hear a very strange, very familiar chirping sound and an enormous moth-like monster emerges from the city and darts towards you. it slows when approaching, holding its claws up like it wants to hold and reassure and comfort you, shield you from the world. but it doesn't touch you, keeping a fair distance while looking at you with a shining, pleading eye, the color of the deepest sea.

your body yells to run, but your mind tells you to stay, and on a whim you extend a hand and brush the creature's palm with your fingers. the relief in the croon it emits makes your heart ache as it wraps your hand in its own, holding you like you're something delicate and precious.

tentatively you ruffle the monster's ginger hair and it weeps, leaning into your touch like a lifeline. you sweep aside a single lock of white amongst the copper, and something sparks and clears the miasma in your brain.

"...Childe?" it's near-silent, the way you say his name, and full of hope that's just waiting to be dashed to the ground, and when he nods and kneels to meet your height so you can properly hug him you feel like crying, too.

your fingers are gently ghosting over his mask-like face when you hear a beep, too close to your ears, and Childe screeches and desperately wraps you up in his arms-

you barely muster the energy to wake up.

[seung-scrittore]

[12:34] - fortune cookies and harry styles

genre: platonic!au, fluff, crack, best friend Ni-ki & Jungwon

warning(s): food/eating, light swearing

pairing: none

wc: 0.9k

“Love can last a lifetime if you want it to.”

“What does that even mean?” 

“Seriously, who writes that mumbo-jumbo anyway?”

“Honestly who cares,” you crinkled up the small paper between your index and thumb, flicking it toward the younger boy sitting on your couch. You watched as he flinched once it'd made contact with his jawline, afterward rolling his eyes at you. Not caring enough to even attempt to make sense of the tiresome momento inscribed inside your fortune cookie. 

Stuffing the semi-stale cookie past your lips, you shrugged off the topic. “Oh wait,” you half mumbled with your mouth still busy at work with the thin, crumbly treat, “‘Ave you guys ‘eard that song?” Most of your sentence was borderline unintelligible.

“Hasn’t anyone taught you table manners, yuck.” Ni-ki shot you an incredulous look as if you’d just offended him personally by not finishing your snack before speaking. 

“Manners, schmanners, y'know you could choke? Seriously, ___, you need to be more careful.” 

Of course, Jungwon, as always. 

“Well pardon me, your highnesses,” rolling your eyes at the imbeciles you were unfortunate enough to call your friends, “Anyway, like I was saying —before I was so rudely interrupted—”

“Have we heard that song?” Ni-ki mocked, his voice rising several octaves in jest, “I don’t even need to hear you say the name, it’s been everywhere I swear.”

Jungwon, who seemingly forgot about his sudden outburst of concern mere moments ago, piped up. “What song?” 

Sticking your chopsticks back into your carton of Chinese food —Pork Lo Mein to be specific— you shot him an exasperated look, “No way, you’ve really not heard it?”

“Maybe I have, if one of you idiots would just tell me the damn title I’d let you know”

Ni-ki snickered, setting his carton of fried rice down to nod his head toward Jungwon, “It makes sense he wouldn’t know, being ancient and all.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, slightly tilting your head down in a failed attempt to hide your amusement. Admittedly, a fair portion of your friendship with the two had been you and Ni-ki borderline-bullying Jungwon for being almost three years older than the both of you. 

Grabbing your phone out of your pocket, you swallowed the food that was in your mouth, opened up your playlist, and scrolled through to find the previously mentioned song. 

“Oh! Here, look Won,” you showed him your phone, the small letters playing in the bottom left of your screen, “As It Was, ugh, it’s such a good song.” 

“Oh, yeah I know it. All that hype for Harry Styles? Really?” 

“You did not just say that to me.” Ni-ki shot Jungwon a glance that let him know he was truly skating on thin ice here. 

“Listen, he’s good, I’ve just heard better y’know,” Jungwon noted somewhat matter-of-factly, collecting another bite of food with his utensils. He nodded toward Ni-ki, “I like his other single, uh, what’s it called?” Shaking his head, he stuffed the spoonful of now semi-cold Chinese food into his mouth, “Watermelon High, maybe?”

“It’s Watermelon Sugar, I’m actually disappointed. Of course, you would only know that song.” 

Over the years you had grown used to their quirks, though Jungwon not liking Harry Styles might’ve been a deal-breaker in your two-year-long friendship.

“I’m gonna tempt the fates here, Won, our whole friendship is riding on my fortune.”

Ni-ki held out his unwrapped golden fortune cookie, it was slightly crumpled at the corners, to the point you could see the stark contrast of the thinly tucked paper. 

The hard exterior of his cookie sounded with a stale crack, you could still faintly taste the vanilla and sesame oil on your tongue from your own. 

“Honestly you think they’d make them fresh or something for how often we go to that place,” you sarcastically chided, “I don’t quite feel valued as a customer.” 

“Oh cut the theatrics, both of you."

Ni-ki scoffed, "Hyung, I really don't think you wanna get mouthy while I'm literally unwrapping your fortune." 

If you said Jungwon was perfectly calm at Ni-ki's brazen nature, you would be lying. He was about two seconds from imploding, and you swore you could see steam coming out of his ears. 

"Go on, read it out." You had a tendency to always back Ni-ki up when it came to picking sides between the two, and if you were honest, you found this really amusing. 

Clearing his throat, —solely for theatrics— Ni-ki held the palm of his hand in his other,

 "He, who knows not of Harold Styles, is not to be trusted." 

Flicking his now crumpled slip of paper at you like you'd done to him moments ago.

"Yah, don't make me come over there Ri-ki," Jungwon pointed his spoon at Ni-ki in an almost threatening way —it would've held a lot more merit if you didn't already know Jungwon was considerably shorter than Ni-ki.

Chomping on another bite of your food, you made a mental note to tease Jungwon for that later, but right now he had enough on his plate with Ni-ki. 

"___, look he's threatening me!" Ni-ki feigned a fearful tone, if he was trying to hide his smile, he was doing a poor job at it. 

You scoffed, a slight grin adorning your features at their antics, unfolding the small paper that had fallen in your lap, you silently read the fortune— his actual fortune. 

"Good friends are worth the hardships you'll face to find them."

Looking up at Jungwon and Ni-ki, who were now bickering back and forth, your grin was in full effect. 

They are, they truly are.

[mdzsartreblogs]

hey for the noob, what's a repost? why are they bad? what's the diff btwn 'reblog' and 'repost'?

thx for explaining!

Howdy!!

I'm glad you asked!

Basically, a repost/art repost is when someone posts a piece of artwork they didn't create and then posts it on their own account, usually without crediting the original artist. This often makes it look like the person who reposted it IS the original artist, and any attention, likes, reblogs, followers, etc., all go to the reposter, instead of the artist who actually created the piece.

Example 1: I go on Pinterest and I find a piece of artwork and I go OH WOW THAT'S PRETTY I NEED TO SHOW EVERYONE I'VE EVER MET so I download the piece of art work, make a brand new tumblr post, put the art in that post, and go HEY LOOK AT THIS ART.

Example 1 is a repost.

A reblog, on the other hand, is basic Tumblr functionality in which any old blogger hits the "reblog" button and kinda..."passes forward" from the original poster. When you reblog a creator's work, they still get the notes, followers, etc. - it's still clear that they're the person who actually created the piece of artwork.

Example 2: I'm scrolling my dashboard and I see someone with username person12345 say, HEY EVERYONE I MADE AN ART DO YOU LIKE IT? And I think to myself, YES I DO, so I hit the reblog button.

Generally speaking, reposts are *highly* frowned upon and considered extremely rude. If you didn't make something yourself, don't post it unless you have express permission OR the original creator has something like "Reposts allowed" on their account (which is rare but does happen. Even an authorized repost should always have credit to the original creator attached to it; "Credit to the owner" is not credit. The reasoning is that, firstly, artists put a fuckton of work into what they create, so for someone to just take it post it somewhere else is kinda fucked (like, imagine if someone did that with a fanfic!). Secondly, a lot of artists rely on sales to their shops, commissions, etc., to get income - but when work is reposted without naming them or without linking them, they lose out on all of that.

Reposting on this website ranges from completely innocent "oh oops I didn't realize that wasn't nice" all the way through intentional attempts at theft/taking credit from original creators. If I had a nickle for every time someone called me a bitch, asshole, or crusader for suggesting they not repost, I'd be able to buy, like...dinner.

Generally speaking, posting work you DID make yourself is awesome, as is reblogging from artists who post their own work.

I could go into a LOT more about this, but tbh it'd kinda be reinventing the wheel. Instead, lemme grab some existing resources that can add more information to this, if you want to know more.

@dont-repost-art is a cool account dedicated to spreading information about why reposting is bad. It's not really active anymore but if you just scroll through what they've reblogged in the past you'll still get some good info.

How to Spot Art Reposts: a long post I wrote a bit ago, discussing art reposting, why it's bad, and how to recognize signs that piece might be a repost, with an emphasis on danmei fandoms on Tumblr.

Flow Chart: Can I Post This Fanart?

Really everything in the tumblr search "art reposting" which is full of artists being upset about people reposting their work....kinda says it all

FINAL NOTE: When an artist says "do not repost" they do NOT mean "do not reblog." Please, please reblog artist work, if you like it. Creators are what make this site so amazing, and when their work doesn't get much love, creators get discouraged and don't want to keep creating. When people steal their work without crediting them, they don't want to keep creating. When people treat them like art-producing machines, they don't want to keep creating. NOT reposting, and ACTIVELY reblogging (with a healthy side dose of "saying nice things in the tags") is a great, small, easy way that every single fan on this site can help creators fell all warm and happy and like they should keep making things.

Hope this helps!

-unforth

[ticketstomydaydreams]

Lockdown Frustration (18+)

Part One: Cold Shower

Part Two

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: When lockdown is making you seriously sexually frustrated, your friend offers to help you through it

Feels: Pure Horn

Word count: 3,664 - I got reeeal into this

Warnings: Total smut, unprotected sex, rough sex

A/N: This was my first time writing smut, so would love to hear what your favourite bit was (send me an ask if you're shy) 😈

_______

You’d been in lockdown for a few weeks now and to say you were horny was an understatement. You’d moved in with your friends temporarily when the stay at home order came in, instead of being stuck at home by yourself but while you weren’t necessarily bored...you were certainly frustrated. Used to being able to call on a hook up or head out to clubs to flirt, it had now been AT LEAST two months since you’d scratched that itch so to say.

Lying by the pool in the backyard, feeling wound up and restless, you started swiping through tinder. You swiped past the usual reams of so-so suitors, most of which you’d never normally be interested in, but at this point were seeming a bit more enticing. You were casually swiping right on a couple of profiles that you’d potentially consider some ‘sext exchanges’ with, when you heard the screen door open just above you. Your temporary housemate and long term friend, Colson, strolls out and heads towards you.

“What you upto out here Y/N, I’m bored” he huffs, as he flops down on the sun lounger next to yours.

“Just torturing myself, scrolling through tinder. This lockdown’s getting preeeeetty frustrating”

Your eyes not leaving your phone as you respond, thumbs still swiping away

“I didn’t think you got around enough for this to be a long stretch for you” he teases, poking you in the side so you turn and look at him

“Rude! I get mine, thank you very much. I’m just not as obvious about it as you, I certainly don’t go this long that’s for sure” you fire back

“Okay, okay, my bad. So your solo sessions aren’t quite cutting it then?” he winks suggestively at you, sticking his tongue out

“That is none of your damn business” you laugh, turning your attention back to your phone, sighing “But if you must know, not really…”

“Well, if you ever need a hand, I’m just saying, you could make it my business”

You look up at this comment and see him lying back on the lounger, arms above his head, his eyes closed with a cocky smirk on his face. You don’t see him open one eye, catching you subtly taking in his tattooed torso, your eyes focusing on his XXX tattoo.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was super hot, but it was Colson, you know?

“See anything you like?” he says, making you jump slightly

“Shut up Colson, stop bothering me and go and find something to do” you snap back, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught staring at your friend’s crotch

“Maybe that’s what I’m already doing, looking for something to 'do' ”

You laugh his blatant innuendo off, but he’s got you feeling tense now. You stand up to head back into the house “I’m going for a shower”

“You want some company?” He offers with a cheeky grin

“I’m alright thanks, I’ll make it a cold one!”

______

Once you’re in the shower, you find yourself feeling even more hot and bothered, despite the cool water cascading over you. Colson’s teasing comments swirling in your head, you slip your hand between your legs trying to relieve some of the tension you're feeling. A few minutes later you turn the shower off, a little more relaxed and ready to find something to occupy your busy mind for the rest of the afternoon. You dry yourself off, wrap yourself in a towel and gather your hair into a messy bun on top of your head.

“Feeling any better after that?”

Not expecting to see Colson sitting on your bed, his voice makes you jump as you come out of your ensuite

“For fucks sake, you scared the life out of me!” You scold him as he laughs at you

Once you compose yourself, you laugh along with him and with eyebrows raised, you ask "and why are you here?"

Leaning back on his hands, he smirks and replies, "Just making sure the cold shower did the trick", as he makes an obvious point of looking you up and down, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

You roll your eyes but can't help but give him a quick once over yourself, taking in the sight before you: his topless torso, the slight sheen of sweat glistening across his tattoos, his damp blonde locks disheveled and hanging into his eyes, long legs spread apart as they hang off the side of your bed, the thin material of his shorts. Eeesh. You feel a warm flush spreading through your body, that has nothing to do with the sun or the shower.

Fuck he looks good, you think, it'd be so easy to just... Argh. Sleeping with one of your best friends while you're locked down together is surely a recipe for disaster... Right? Besides, he's always teasing you like this, that's just Colson. You're probably only reacting this way because, well, surely everyone is horny while stuck in lockdown...

You quickly push those thoughts away and sigh dramatically while clutching your towel tighter around your chest, "Get out Colson, I need to get dressed"

Unperturbed, he stares you dead in the eye and states slyly "what you're wearing looks just fine from here"

"Stop it now, creeper" you say, half smiling and waving him away with a shooing motion. He laughs, low and soft, "Okay, okay" and holds his hands up in mock defeat. This kind of back and forth was the norm for you two, but today... Today you found your heart was beating out of your chest and the steady eye contact he was maintaining was making you twinge in such an intense way, you were sure he could tell.

Starting to get a little flustered, you take a step towards your dresser and Colson reaches out grabbing you by the hand and pulling you into him. You stumble ungracefully and find yourself inches from his face, one leg on either side of his left thigh, both hands on his chest. He places both hands on your waist to steady you and you can feel his long fingers pressing into you through your towel.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you giggle suggestively, your voice husky

"Come on Y/N... " he says leaning in, his lips almost grazing yours as he speaks. He pulls back slightly and locks his eyes onto yours "You can't say you don't feel this too"

"Colson..." Just as you begin to speak he slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you even closer to him so your forehead is leaning against his. He shifts, pressing his bare thigh up between your legs, a small gasp escapes your mouth as you feel the pressure against your clit. "Mmm, we shouldn't" you murmur, breath ragged, as you slowly run your hands up his neck and into his hair.

He leans into your neck, dragging his bottom lip up to your ear and whispers, "Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop right now" before pressing a long lingering kiss to your neck and nibbling on your earlobe. You audibly groan and he lets out a soft growl as you gently tug his hair causing him to grip you harder. You instinctively roll your hips, grinding yourself further against his thigh, showing him just how wet you are.

He grazes his soft lips across yours, before bringing his hand up to your face and gently gripping your chin

"I'm gonna need an answer, use your words Y/N, tell me what you want"

As he presses his thigh up against your clit again, you moan "you, I want you"

"That's my girl" he smirks before crashing his lips against yours in a deep lingering kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth as he reaches down behind your thighs and lifts you onto his lap. Your tongues battle for dominance as you grind down onto him, feeling him getting hard through the thin material of his shorts. He slides his hands under your towel and grips your bare ass tightly as he presses himself up against you, electricity fires through your core and you let out a soft moan into his kiss

You bite his bottom lip, gently tugging on it and he groans at the action. “This towel has got to go” he says, locking eyes with you, his pupils black and blown out with lust. You lean back and undo your towel, dropping it behind you. He lets out a breathy ‘wow’ as he takes in the view of you completely naked, straddling his lap

“Fuck, you’re so hot” he says, pulling you into him as he kisses you again hungrily, moving from your mouth to neck. You continue to roll your hips onto his now rock hard cock and he bites your neck hard in response, leaving a purple mark above your collarbone. He moves his mouth to your chest, kissing between your breasts before flicking his tongue across your left nipple then sucking on it harshly. You let out a whine at the sensation, causing a dirty smile to spread across his face “Oh you like it rough do you?” he says as he moves across to your right nipple, taking it between his teeth and biting, pulling slightly

“Shit” you moan, grabbing his face with both your hands and crashing your lips against his. Just the feeling of his tongue twisting with yours has you so turned on, you feel like you could cum already. You reach down between the two of you and slide your hand into his shorts, wrapping it around his thick cock, pumping your hand up and down it’s length and he breaks away from your kiss to exhale deeply

“I wanna fuck you so badly Colson”

“Not yet” he says, as he reaches under your ass, and lifts you, flipping you onto your back on the bed. You reach up to pull him down on top of you, but he grabs your wrist and pins it above your head. Hovering over you, he uses his other hand to bring your other arm above your head, wrapping one hand around both of your wrists. You struggle slightly, but he holds your wrists tighter as you pout and whimper out “Hey, no fair”

Smirking at you squirming, he lets out a soft throaty chuckle “You told me it had been too long, you think I’m gonna let you rush this?” Still holding your wrists above your head with his left hand, he brings his right hand to your cheek and presses a slow lingering kiss to your lips “Just trust me…”

“Okay” you murmur, your heart beating and your breath shaky as he slowly trails his hand down your neck, over your breast and down your stomach, maintaining eye contact the entire time. This slow pace after your passionate kissing and grinding just before, was killing you and you instinctively lift your hips towards him as his hand gets closer to your core, your clit throbbing so hard with need it’s almost painful. He strokes his hand over your hip bone and down your thigh and you whine in disappointment, “Patience babygirl” he says as he kisses you again, moving his tongue slowly with yours, sending electric bolts to your aching core. His hand slides up your thigh, skimming past your soaking area and down your other thigh

You pull back from his lips “Come on Colson, you’re killing me, I need you…”

“Oh yeah? Let me see how much…” He says, nose pressed against yours as he traces his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness and sliding from your entrance up to your clit, circling it slowly “Is this what you need?”

“Fuck... yes” you moan as he pushes his long middle finger into your entrance, curling hard against your g spot, your eyes squeezing closed in pleasure. “You want more?” he says, slowly sliding his finger out and then back in pressing hard on your inside wall again. “Yeah, more..” you choke out. He watches your face intently, your head tilted back, breathy moans escaping you as he slips his ring finger in alongside his middle, the cold metal of his silver ring pressing against you, and starts pumping them in and out of you. He buries his fingers inside of you up to the knuckles and starts beckoning against your g spot, causing your moans to get louder as your stomach tightens, your orgasm building

“Oh my god that feels so good” you manage to whimper out, panting “Don’t s-stop... I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that…”

Hearing this he let’s go of your wrists, and cups the back of your neck with his hand, pulling your face to his and sliding his tongue in your mouth, suffocating you with his kiss. Your body twists towards him, your legs clamping around his forearm as he fucks you with his fingers. You reach your right hand up and grab a fistful of his messy, damp hair as you slide your left hand down his tensed, tattooed stomach and into his shorts. His cock is throbbing from grinding against you and you feel a wet bead of precum as you slide your thumb across his tip and then up and down his swollen shaft

You pull back from his kiss to let out a deep moan “Oh god, I’m gonna cum”

He presses his forehead to yours “Say my name, I wanna hear you say it while you cum”

“Shit...Colson, fuck, oh god, Colson” you almost shout, your head thrown back as you feel your walls clench around him, your wetness pouring over his fingers as he works you through your orgasm while kissing and sucking on your exposed neck. He pulls his dripping fingers away from and releases his tight grip on the back of neck, letting your back fall gently back on the bed. The loss of contact brings you back to reality and you shakily prop yourself up on your elbows to see him sitting up, pulling his strained shorts down. His rock hard cock springs against his stomach and you let out a long ragged exhale as you see it, your eyes wandering up his lean, sweat covered torso to see the dirty smile on his face as he watches you.

“I’m not finished with you yet” he says, staring down at you with lust filled eyes as he tugs at his length “You think you can handle it?”

“I could ask you the same thing” you countered, sliding your hand between your open legs, drawing his attention to your glistening core and the wet patch beneath you

“Damn Y/N, have I met my match here?” he laughs as he lightly pushes your shoulders back onto the bed. Climbing on top of you he covers your mouth with his in a hungry kiss, as he roughly thrusts himself against you, his rigid shaft moving easily against your drenched clit. Still swollen and sensitive from your orgasm, you let out a slow needy moan, encouraging him to repeat the action.

Propped up on one elbow, he reaches down with his other hand and grabs his cock

“Shit you’re so wet for me aren’t you?” he says, his lips grazing yours as he guides the tip of his dick from your clit to your entrance and back again

“I don’t know why you sound surprised..” you murmur as you bite his bottom lip “...Daddy”

“Daaamn Y/N, you know what that shit does to me, you’re really asking for it now”

Groaning at your words, he presses the swollen tip of his against your tight entrance and you tremble at the feeling, ready to take him... when he pulls back

“Shit, do you have condoms in here?”

“No, but I’m on the pill…” you break your sentence off to kiss him, hard “...and we both know we’re good…” you kiss him again, not wanting to lose momentum “...and let’s face it, we both know it’s better without..”

“You’re so bad Y/N” he says breathlessly, as you wrap your hand around his throbbing shaft, pumping your up and down as you guide it back to your yearning pussy, the anticipation has you both barely able to breathe

“I need you now” That’s all he needs to hear and he pushes his entire length through your soaking wet entrance. “Fuck” you moan out loudly, as he bottoms out, stretching you out with his thick cock, the pleasure spreading immediately through your entire body. You move your hips up against his, adjusting to his size.

“You okay babygirl?” he scans your face as he pulls back slowly

“Fuck yeah”

Encouraged, he slams himself back into you again “God, you’re so fucking tight” he hisses through gritted teeth as he rolls his hips against you, savouring the sensation and letting you feel very inch as he sinks into you, “Shit, you feel amazing”

His slow thrusts, pulling fully out of you each time, have your entire body quivering. Getting desperate to be ravaged, you grab his face with both hands and bring his mouth to yours, flicking your tongue against his

“Quit teasing and fuck me Colson”

He lets out a soft breathy laugh as he sits up, pulling you roughly towards him by your hips and presses your thighs up towards your chest as he hovers over you, holding his already drenched cock at your entrance “You ready?”

“Never been more re….”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence before he plunges into your aching pussy, knocking the breath out of you. He reaches behind your neck, pulling your forehead to his as he pounds into you, hard and fast. “Is this what you wanted huh? You wanna be fucked hard like a bad girl?”

You can barely respond, choking out a “fuck yes, oh my god, fuck me”

“You want this dick deep?” he says as he pushes his hand harder against your thigh, bringing it closer to the bed, heightening the pleasure as he hits your g spot even harder.

He’s only been fucking you for a couple of minutes at most before you’re screaming out

“I’m gonna cum”

“Cum on my cock for me babygirl” he whispers in your ear as fire crawls all over your body. Your nails dig into his back leaving raw red marks as you thrust your hips up into his, feeling your walls clench tightly around him repeatedly and you feel yourself flooding over his cock as your orgasm sears through you.

He fucks you through your orgasm and then pulls back suddenly. You lie there for a moment shaking, trying to catch your breath “Turn over” he demands, before he flips you over onto your stomach, grabs your hips and pulls your ass up towards him so you’re on your knees

“It’s not over yet” he says as he slaps his hard cock against your ass cheek, then slides it through the wetness that has pooled around your ass, pressing lightly against your tight hole. You whimper at the feeling and push back against him. “Another time…” he says as he moves his cock further down and delves back into your dripping pussy.

Spreading one hand across your lower back he pushes you further down onto the bed, the angle sending him deeper than you’ve ever felt before.

You grip onto the bedsheets, your moans filling the room as he pulls his other hand back and spanks you hard, the sharp sting making you clench around him. “More” you beg, “Oh you like that?” he taunts, hitting you again, even harder this time, leaving a handprint across your ass cheek.

He reaches down and grabs both of your arms, pulling your back up against his chest, as he thrusts furiously into you. With one hand holding your wrists behind you, he wraps his other around your neck and pulls your head back to whisper in your ear “This feel good?”

“So fucking good Colson, don’t stop” you moan “I’m gonna cum again soon…”

He lets go of your wrists and neck and pulls out, making you whine as the feeling of fullness leaves you. You turn to protest but he says “Turn around, I wanna watch you as you cum” then grips your waist, flipping you over and pulling your legs up around him.

You feel your orgasm building straight away as he buries his cock into you again. You start to cum and your eyes close, head tilting back as you feel the strong waves of pleasure coursing through you. He cups his hand around your face pulling it towards his “Look at me” he demands, his blue eyes drilling into yours as you whine

“Oh fuck Colson, I’m cumming, I’m cumming”

“I can feel you” he mumbles “I’m right behind you”

Your vision blurs as he fucks you through, your walls clenching so tightly, the orgasm so intense it feels like it’s not going to end until a deep warmth spreads through your body. His thrusts get more and more urgent, his breath coming in short, sharp blasts until he pulls out of you, pumping his swollen cock as his warm cum spills across your shivering body.

He leans down and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before flopping onto his stomach next to you. You both lie for a moment, catching your breath, then he leans over the side of the bed and grabs the towel you stripped off earlier.

“I think you’re gonna need this” he says, eyeing your glistening torso

You both burst out laughing, “Yeah, I think that’s our friendship successfully ruined” you say as you take the towel from him and start cleaning yourself up

He lays his head on your warm, naked thighs and looks up at you,

“It seems pretty clear to me, that you and I are not supposed to be just friends”

Returning his gaze, you stroke your hand across his forehead, pushing his damp, blonde hair back,

“Looks like lockdown isn’t going to be that boring after all”

______

[ghost-btch]

He Could Be The One~ 5 Seconds Of Summer

(Chapter Two: Awkward Events)

(Prologue, Chapter One are right before this on my blog. I'd link them but then it wouldn't show up in the tags.)

Rating: literally for everyone

Warning: none besides the fact there may be grammatical errors, oops lol

Word Count: 868

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

3rd Person P.O.V

  Phoenix sat on the couch in her dressing room. She had changed into a simple gray shirt and black shorts. She was currently drinking a bottle of water after about two hours of nonstop dancing around. But even though she was completely tired, it way absolutely worth it. She couldn't believe this was her life. It's been this was for three years now but it still felt like every show was her very first.

She was just scrolling through her secret tumblr. Most if her fans knew it was her but they did a good job at not telling. Then she'd switch to her normal tumblr account and like and reblog a few post. She loved being able to make someone happy even if it was just one person.

Then a knock on the door made her jump and drop her phone. Luckily it landed on the couch and not the floor.

She got up to open the door confused as to who it'd be. She still had another hour she could be there.

When she opened the door to reveal four of her idols she almost spit out some of the water she had just drunk.

"What. The. HELL!" was as she could get out.

"You're Phoenix right? We just watched your show and that was amazing! We figured you were a fan since you sang a few of our songs, so we came to surprise you!" Ashton spoke.

"Surprise!" all four yelled.

"Wait woah. You guys liked it? Wow thank you that means a lot coming from you guys! And ya I've been a fan for a few months now, a friend of mine made me listen to you guys. And uhh here I an now woah." Phoenix replied smiling.

She then realized it may be rude to not have let them in yet. She moved out if the doorway to let them in. She closed the door behind them.

All four boys took a seat on the couch. Suprisingly they all fit. Phoenix took a seat in one of the chairs that lined the bar in the room.

"I'm surprised. Most people would probably scream and then freak out some more." Michael laughed.

"I'm not really the type of person to do that. Though not gonna lie in my mind I am very much freaking out." Phoenix laughed.

Though on the outside it seemed as if Phoenix wasn't fazed by the fact that four of the most important people in her life was sitting in front of her. On the inside it was a mix of "Total Freak Out Mode" and "Anxiety Time". Both she wasn't too fond of. If they were to pay close attention to her hands, they'd see she was shaking out of control.

For the next few minutes consist of Phoenix trying to not pass out from shock, both her and the 5SOS boys complementing each other's songs/preferences, and really stupid jokes.

"I just remembered something about one of the songs you say." Calum randomly said.

"What?" Phoenix replied.

"That Hannah Montana one and about a lyric or two from it."

"Uhh what about that song. I don't understand?" Phoenix replied knowing very well that she wasn't being too convincing.

"Wasn't a lyric about someone who plays guitar and that you said it reminded you of someone?" Ashton asked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about? It was just a song u randomly sang. Nothing I'm hiding with it." Phoenix said wishing she could escape this conversation.

"Wait a minute does that mean you ment one of us?" Luke said finally catching on.

"Uhh, what no! Definitely not. I ment some in a totally different band." Phoenix replied clearly blushing.

"Sure ya did." replied Calum.

"Okay fine. Ya I did!" Phoenix replied.

"Ooh who?" Ashton asked.

"Why the hell would I tell any of you that?" Phoenix asked.

"Because if you don't might regret it later?" Luke replied.

"You're not helping." Phoenix replied sarcastically, one if her many traits.

"So it's either me or Luke." Michael said.

"Hey I can play guitar too!" Ashton replied.

"Mr. Jealous over here." Phoenix laughed.

"Hey!"

Phoenix laughed trying to change the subject, the boys catching on to this.

"Fine we won't make you tell us." Luke said.

"Thank you!" Phoenix replied smiling thankful.

"Hey what's your number? Okay that sounded weird. I just ment so we all can continue talking cause I'm sure we're all about to be kicked out the venue." Luke asked.

"Oh sure. Uhh let me figure out what mine is. I've had the same one for years now and I can never remember." The girl laughed.

They all gave the girl their numbers and Phoenix gave them hers, after figuring it out first.

She had only been listening to them for half a year and this has already happened. 'How is this not a dream?' she wondered.

And then the security did come and tell them it was time to leave. So Phoenix and the 5SOS boys said their goodbyes and went back to their homes.

Phoenix could not stop smiling at the past events. Little did she know someone else did the very same....

....

Tag list: @rip-lukes-balsamic @ts-and-5sos @agirlruinedbybands //just comment if you'd like to be on my tag list//

A/N: try to guess who the person Phoenix likes hehe lol

[alittledizzy]

hi, (my ask had nothing to do with antiphan sutff but i guess you just hate those ppl lol) I understand you get a lot of questions but you treat anons like it's all from the same one person with the "dear anon" and stuff like that, it'd be nice if u thought of anons as single people and not a mass of anonimity. If you get the same asks over and over just answer it once, and I can't log in bc I don't even have a blog (I just check some blogs daily to keep up with what's happening)

I can’t address you individually because you’re not individual to me, though. I can avoid addressing you at all, I guess, but when I say ‘dear anon’ I’m just trying to be nice because there’s nothing else I can call you. You’ve literally all got the same gray face to me. Except some of you are nice and some of you are rude and some of you are oblivious and some of you just want to express how awful you think I am and some of you I think got lost on the way to leela or dann’s tumblrs which understandable we are like a three-headed hydra but my point is I have no context clues and if I’ve had a series of asks that all seemed to be leading in one direction and you send one to me that fits the same general line of questioning it’s impossible for me to psychologically distance your ask from the other similar asks. 

But my point is: context clues are great, they’re why I am way more receptive to talking to people off anon. Because I can scroll through their tumblr to get a read on why I think they’re asking me something - if they ask a seemingly obvious question and it turns out they seem to have just gotten into phandom or they’re like, thirteen or something, I can be pretty sure they’re being sincere. If I scroll through their tumblr and they do nothing but reblog things and write snide remarks in the comments, then I can be pretty sure they’re just trying to get into an argument. And hey, I’m usually down for that too, if I know we’re on the same page. 

I answer as many asks as I have time for (given that I work a full time job) and in general if a question is unique and seems genuine, it’s super easy to be friendly and positive. I absolutely never mind it when people want me to help them find information or want my opinion on something. In the past twenty four hours I got seventy six asks and I ignored a great many of them in the name of just answering something once and moving on. I regret that I spent my time this morning answering ones that made me grumpy, but those are the questions I had the most of this morning when I opened my askbox. 

Anyway, sorry. You didn’t ask for this whole response. I just feel like shit now and want to explain myself because I don’t want anyone to walk away from their fandom experience feeling bad because of me when they had positive intentions to begin with. This is the most anxiety-inducing aspect of tumblr to me, not knowing how to deal with - or real - people on anonymous that want to talk to me.