#mrs liu just needs to get him to put on a bit of weight and we'll be golden

[acidic-potato-piss-water]

Feeling honored and privileged to have witnessed Jade's twink death in real time

[skellebonez]

Happy Birthday Winter!

Hey @winterpower98 it's your birthday! I really hope you enjoy this, I know I had a ton of fun writing it for you! Actor AU is one of my favorite AUs you've made and coming back to play around with it again was a blast and a half!

Painter MK cackled, taking the brushes filled with bright pink paint into his fists.

“Yes, yes!” He exclaimed, brushing them against his cheeks and bringing another to run up the center of his face. “The art is-OW! OW, THE ART IS IN MY EYE!”

“Cut!” The director yelled, bringing the entire film production to a halt in an instant. “Xiaotian, what happened?”

The young actor dropped the paintbrushes into the hands of a stage worker to rushed over to help him, one hand covering his right eye as he tried to keep himself from laughing. “I think some of it splashed when I waved the brush at my face. I guess the art really IS-”

“Don’t say it,” Heshang said from the other side of the set, doing his best not to join his co-star in laughter.

“-seeping into my pores!”

The entire cast and crew groaned as Xiaotian cackled again, with a few added ows, before another stage hand came by with a bottle of water.

~3…2…1~

“Uh…” Xiaojiao pulled, attempting to pull the prop sword from above her head out of the wall only to be met with… a lot more resistance than should probably be there. “UH…? It’s stuck?”

She stood, attempting to pull it out normally only to be met with just as much resistance.

“It’s stuck!” She laughed, out, bracing a foot on the wall with no change.

“Let me try,” General Ironclad, or rather Red in the costume of General Ironclad for the episode, offered, attempting to do the same with the exact same result as his co-star. “What did you use to hold this in place? Cement!?”

“It should have only been stuck in with force!” A stage hand yelled as Xiaotian and Heshang joined in, both failing to pull the sword out from the false wall and Heshang nearly toppling over backwards with his additional costume pieces.

“Whoever stuck that in there needs to be moved to making sure the safety equipment stays connected!” Xiaotian offered, watching as even more people tried to remove the sword. “That is not coming out.”

~3…2…1~

Heshang held Mo in his arms, waltzing around the set as he waited for places to be called for with the shockingly content feline in his arms.

~3…2…1~

“You are selling beautiful vegetables today?” Pigsy said, leaning over the the display to give an awkward smile to the disguised Spider Queen.

Tang looked over the produce from where he knelt, looking back up at his companion with a concerned and confused look. “Are you… a-are-PFT-FUCK.”

Everyone on set burst into laughter as Tang did, both of his fellow actors holding back from laughing themselves.

“Why is it this line!?” Tang yelled in frustration as he continued laughing. “It’s not a hard line! I wrote this line! Why do I keep laughing at the last word!?”

“Maybe if Ganglie wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at me you’d keep straight face,” Zhi-Zhu Jing managed to get out through her laughter.

“That’d be the only thing straight about me.”

~3…2…1~

Dicky Cheung, or the actual Sun Wukong disguised as a human actor in full costume of himself, took a running leap and jumped onto the counter of Pigsy’s noodles, sliding to a perfect stop with a wink toward the camera.

~3…2…1~

“MK, there’s something I wanted to tell you…” Mei said, looking at MK with sparkles in her eyes before snickering. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s hard enough to keep a straight face during this scene!”

“Sorry!” Xiaotian yelled to the camera. “I can’t help it! How are Jin and Yin this wrong about these two in the show?”

“Himbos!” was the shouted answer from Tang at the other end of the set.

~3…2…1~

“One of the rare talents that no one knew the great Sun Wukong possessed…” Xiaojiao said ominously, camera panning over to Mr. Cheung in full costume. “Surprisingly good peach juggling!”

“Gotta keep myself occupied somehow!” The actor laughed out, catching two peaches in either hand while the last one was caught perfectly in his mouth to the applause of everyone watching.

~3…2…1~

“Thanks for the Key los-AH!”

Red flung his arms wildly, key flying into the air as Tie Shan rushed forward and caught him just before he face planted into the ground.

“Mine!” Mr. Cheung yelled as he caught the key mid air and rushed through the frame.

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN THIS EPISODE!”

~3…2…1~

“Thank you… for giving me all o-ooh, whoa!” Lui Er Mihou, or unbeknownst to nearly all Six-Eared Macaque in disguise much the same way as Sun Wukong was, yelped as the cable that was supposed to gently raise him and make him look like he was floating yoinked him as good 4 feet off the ground way too fast. “That’s too much power!”

“SORRY!” The line operator shouted, fiddling with the controls. “Someone loaded the weight setting for Xiaotian into your line instead of yours.”

“I already feel bad enough treating him like garbage and beating him up in this role, this is just rubbing salt in the wound,” Liu Er muttered, leaning back and swinging limply much to the amusement of everyone who couldn’t hear him before raising his voice. “When will my beloved friend Sun Wukong come to rescue me?”

“SPEAK MY NAME AND I SHALL APPEAR!”

Liu Er yelped in surprise as Mr. Cheung rushed in and grabbed him from beneath to hold him bridal style with a shit eating grin. He couldn't help the flush on his cheeks in response.

“HOW DO YOU KEEP SHOWING UP IN SHOTS WHEN YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE YET!?” The director yelled with more than a little amusement in his voice despite the disruption.

~3…2…1~

“You!” DBK said, rounding on Red Son. “You have brought me nothing but failure! Time and time again! I keep telling you I… shit, I can’t remember the next line when you look that sad, I am so sorry.”

“Nothing but disappointment?” Red offered helpfully, immediately breaking out of his downcast somber gaze to the floor with a wide smile.

“It is scary how fast you get in and out of character sometimes, kid,” Niu Mowang laughed out, clearly resisting the urge to ruffle the younger actor’s hair lest he ruin the styling job that took far too long every time they got dressed.

~3…2…1~

The White Bone Spirit stood at the entrance to the Silken Web Cave, looking at the camera before far too much time passed from when she was supposed to say he line. She moon walked backwards out of the frame without changing her expression one bit as the other actors devolved into cackles.

~3…2…1~

“The Year of the Spider starts tonight!” Spider Queen proclaimed from her high vantage point before she muttered something under her breathe, narrowing her gaze and then looking off to the side. “Or next year ‘cause I don’t remember my line.”

~3…2…1~

Huntsman slowly lowered into frame, upside down and gripping the rigging holding him up like Spiderman.

~3…2…1~

“Oh yeah?” Sun Wukong said, appearing in frame as he walked down the wall MK was embedded in. He grabbed his staff, yanking it out of the wall and jumped down and smacked the wall with it.

… only for it to go through the wall once again and crack it. Or, rather, the false wall that was on a tilted angle to make it look like he was talking down it, rather than a heavily slanted floor.

“I’m sorry!” Mr. Cheung yelled, looking at the damage he caused. “I must have hit at weak spot!”

He hoped no one noticed that when MK offered to get the prop staff for this shot and put it into the wall… he grabbed the real one by accident.

~3…2…1~

Nui Mowang held the little bird that was Wukong’s transformation stand in for one of the final scenes, gently petting the little head with a big goofy smile on his face.

~END~

The entire cast sat around on various travel tables right outside the small Lunar New Year Festival set they had set up, various extras that had answered the open invitation for the shoot going about and getting the free food that was available at the functional stalls provided by the catering they had hired.

It was an odd sight to see Red Son and Spider Queen and Sun Wukong and everyone else sitting around together, but Liu Er Mihou being there outside of his Macaque costume broke the illusion a little bit.

It was the final day of shooting for the season 2 opening special to Monkie Kid, Revenge of the Spider Queen, and everyone was there. Even people who didn’t have to come in wanted to give a temporary farewell to Tie Shan, Nui Mowang, and Red before season 2 proper began shooting. There was still a chance they could bebcalled in for bit roles, the scripts weren’t entirely finished yet, but as far as anyone knew the Demon Bull Family wasn’t going to be returning properly any time soon.

Maybe in season 3, Tang had teased, holding the begun scripts for that in his little tablet away from prying eyes. And they were always welcome to help out in bit roles, background characters or voice over or to use their other talents to work other jobs that were needed around the set.

But even before then it would be a while.

And so that’s how Red found himself sandwiched between Long Xiaojiao and Qi Xiaotian, with the newly added member of their quartet in her full White Bone Spirit costume hanging over his shoulder to watch the compilation that Xiaojiao had expertly edited on her phone for them all.

“The director gave me permission to use whatever I wanted and I though that… maybe we could all have it for ourselves,” Xiaojiao offered, pulling up the wireless transfer option on her phone. “To watch when we miss each other being on set together. I know we’re going to probably be back together with Red Son eventually! But…”

“I’ll miss shooting with you too,” Red said smiling softly as he pulled out his own phone to accept the file. “Hopefully Mr. Tang isn’t just teasing us about season 3.”

[kopikokun]

(Don't) Tell Me More༄ m.taeil

↳ Taeil's loaded, and that's a severe understatement. So, what on earth is this rich kid doing cleaning pools every Sunday? Looking for love, of course, and a little help with rubbing sunscreen on his back. Ultraviolet protection's a must; it's getting real hot in here.

pairing: (secret rich kid) pool boy!taeil x gn rich kid!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning(s): the suggestive bit is the unaddressed tension, and the one joke about bad porn taeil makes. overall, just the ~vibes~ haha

word count: 2153 words

author's note: i got... carried away. no worries, the starved taeil fans deserve a meal. idk how many years it'll take for the next one. also, please notify me if i accidentally used any gendered language. i’ve checked multiple times, but i’m human, and would sincerely appreciate if you pointed out any of my mistakes or even offered feedback ♡

☆༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: do i wanna know (arctic monkeys) ✧ head over heels (loveleo) ✧ honey (moxie) ✧ dance with me (sir, please) ✧ doubt (hippo campus) ✧ heat waves (glass animals)

← BACK TO NAVI.

Labour isn’t Taeil’s forte. Born with a gold spoon between his lips, and six digits in his bank account at five, he’s lived a life beyond lavish.

Fridays are reserved for piano lessons and tennis, Saturdays for buttering up his father’s potential clients in country clubs, and Sundays for swimming in the five meter deep pool in his backyard. Well, at least, Sundays used to be.

Taeil’s plenty passionate about swimming–freestyle, backstroke, butterfly–but about cleaning swimming pools? Not so much.

So, why is he spending every Sunday afternoon sweaty, swathed in sunscreen, and despairing over chemical imbalances? The answer is simple, and lazing on a deck chair at this very moment: you.

You’re new–courtesy of the raise in your father’s already outrageous salary–and when Taeil first lay his eyes upon you at the park, he was enamoured. He’d actually tripped on a root in his trance, and you’d crouched beside him to ask whether he was alright. Humiliated, he’d silently hobbled after as you lead him to a bench. You’d nursed the wound he hadn’t realised he’d sustained as best you could: rinsing and dabbing it dry.

“I’ll walk you home,” he’d said. “A token of appreciation, if you will.”

You’d accepted his token. The walk wasn’t far, but it was likely because you made for such good company. Taeil would be engrossed even if you droned on about cheese for an hour, which coincidentally, is exactly what Mr. Liu’s monologue had entailed the month before. That conversation had bored him half to death however.

It felt too quick; your estate was already looming over him, auguring the end of your encounter when he’d finally recovered from his ignominy. Desperate for more, Taeil had blurted out the first thing in sight: your pool. That’s why you’d mentioned your dad needing a pool cleaner every weekend, and how, despite being clueless in the department, Taeil had wholeheartedly offered himself. You’d been elated, beaming, over the moon. How could he say no?

It had seemed appealing in the moment, but his train of thought had been superficial. Turns out, those mass-produced specially-targeted summer chick-flicks were lying! Who would’ve guessed? Pool boying was not just flaunting your washboard abs and bulging biceps as you netted a few leaves. Oh no. The first few test cleans Taeil had done with his pool… well, it became off limits for a week. And an actual expert had to be hired. Those gritty aspects aren’t the most marketable, or inherently sexy, so Taeil supposes the chick-flick deceits are partially excused.

But back to what matters: you. Your–how should he put it?–spunk, hadn’t been anticipated. Not an ounce of that pretentious reticence the local wealthy feel entitled to prevails in you. It’s refreshing. You’re adrenaline personified. Just your presence has Taeil’s heart palpitating. Since he’d been hired, every week has been more fleeting glances, yearning touches, puckish banter. And last week… well, there’s no time for that, because now you’re beckoning him over, your hand wrapped around a tube of sunscreen. Taeil prances to you, complaisant.

“Sit,” you urge, dragging a wicker stool in front of you. “You’re done for today, right?”

“Yeah, water didn’t need treatment this week. Just skimmed the surface for debris.” Taeil hesitates. He feels awkward after last week, when he’d kissed you. Yes, kissed you. You haven’t said a word about it since, and there’s no way in hell he’s doing it first. “But, it’s okay. I’m gonna go soon.”

“Aww, please, Taeil? Sit?” You pat the chair and smile, eyelashes glinting in the sun. That’s all it takes for Taeil to succumb, the rattan crackling beneath his weight. Your fingers graze his arm. “It’s a hot day, huh? A swim would be nice.”

His eyebrows crease. "Sorry, were you waiting?"

“No, no, it’s fine.” You tilt your head. “But…”

“What?”

“Do you want to go swimming with me?”

Taeil fists the material of his swim shorts, spine erect. The fabric crinkles. Whether he wants to what? “Oh, uh, well, I don’t wanna intrude. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be happy about me swimming in their pool.”

The heat of your body seeps into his skin as your arms coil around his. “They don’t mind, and if they did, they’re not home to say so.”

This feels like the start of a trashy porn. Taeil flushes. “Oh.”

“So? What do you say?”

His adam’s apple buoys. “Sure. Wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“Exactly.” The sunscreen’s cap clacks open. “Here, you gotta reapply more.” Taeil extends his palm, and you squeeze some into it.

He deliberates his next move. It’s difficult to think when you’re gazing at him like that, lashes batting and lips curled into a demure smile. “You don’t mind if I”–he rubs his nape with a free hand–“uh, take off my shirt, right? I don’t wanna dirty your pool.”

“Sure! I definitely wouldn’t mind, so long as you’re okay with it.” You tuck your knees to your chest. “Why? Do you want me to look away?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making you uncomfortable.” Taeil’s going to pass out, he’s betting money on it.

He doesn’t, but he does glow incandescent when he strips himself of his clammy shirt. The humid air only exacerbates his feverish blush.

Growing up, Taeil’s parents always emphasised presentability, and he’s nothing if not presentable. He’s proud of his physique, diligently maintaining it with rigorous exercise, and sure, he’s had a few self-conscious blips, but they’re transient. Taeil knows he’s attractive, yet under your keen eye, he rubs sunscreen–on his neck, chest, and abdomen–hunched forward.

“Do you need help?” You peer over his shoulder, wagging the aquamarine bottle like bait. “With your back. You know, for the spots you can’t reach?”

You’ll be the death of him. You’re going to kill him, but he honestly wouldn’t mind that. Taeil’s never had any ‘spots he can’t reach’, but, “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Your fingers are ridiculously delicate, like you’re weaving gossamer across his back–sunscreen webs, if that’s a thing. Taeil’s sure someone would pay grotesquely for that. Mr. Liu would.

Neither of you speak, only the sound of skin against skin drifting alongside the scent of coconut oil and cocoa butter. At one point, your nails unintentionally trail his back, and Taeil shivers.

His body tingles with the vestige of your touch, and when he assumes you’re done, you stun him with a good, hard, satisfying squeeze to his shoulders; the ones twined rigid from graft. Taeil actually groans in relief, which had probably stunned you. Or maybe that’s what you were hoping for.

Internally, he’s broiling in mortification, but externally, his shoulders slacken, his head hangs forward, and his exhales are long and grateful. It’s embarrassing. For crying out loud, he has his own professional masseuse, yet when it’s you doing it–yeah, he needn’t elaborate further. He’s gushed about you enough.

“Feels nice, right?”

“God, yeah, it feels”–a particularly forceful squeeze elicits another groan from him–“good. Do you have any experience? You’re amazing at this.”

“Just my dad. When I was younger he used to pay me to massage his shoulders after work,” you say, fingers miraculously knowing exactly which muscle to knead at what intensity. Is this what heaven feels like? “Well, there was also the massage course I signed up for a few years ago.”

“Well”–another sigh–“it definitely paid off.”

“It better have, given how pricey it was.” Your lilt is roguish, and it sounds like you’re enjoying this as much as Taeil is.

He wants to die like this, but you’re already standing, and stretching your arms overhead before he can really soak the sensation in.

“Let’s go for that swim, huh?”

“Uh,” Taeil blinks, dazed, “yeah.”

He trails after you, facing away when you lower yourself into the water without qualms. Duh, it’s your pool. Why would you have scruples about swimming in your pool? Taeil, on the other hand, dithers, because it’s not his pool, and he can’t help but fret that your parents could walk in on you swimming with the pool boy.

“Hurry up! A little water’s not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of the water,” he says, staring pointedly at you. He’s never felt so vehemently for someone before, and you’re so… unpredictable. It’s invigorating. It’s terrifying. Do you like him, or are you just bored?

He ventures as far as sitting on the edge of the pool’s deck, where water kisses concrete. His legs dangle, acclimating to both the temperature, and the reality that he really is about to jump into his employer’s pool. The water is cold, caressing his leg as you wade closer to stand between his knees. Your eyes sweep over him. Taeil’s stomach coils. He hopes you like what you see.

“You okay?” you ask, hand over his right knee. It’s freezing. “You look a little flushed.”

Your hand crawls further up his leg. “Yeah,” he scoffs, “I wonder why.”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” you grin, upturning your palms and offering them to him. “Come on.”

Taeil should’ve thought your motives through, but how could he have denied your invitation? He’s still a guy, and well, it’s you. Regardless, he should’ve scrounged up some semblance of prudence because it was blatant what you’d needed his hands for. To pull him under. Literally.

The tug is harsh and efficient, jolting him forward into the polar depths before he can object. Taeil’s not thinking straight–the stark contrast in temperatures pummel his rationality–so he grabs the closest thing he can: you. It’s reckless of him, given the two of you are in the deep end and he could drown you. But risks evade his psyche as he loops his arms around your waist, your body pressing into his. Fortunately, he won’t be facing charges anytime soon because you do resurface, still in his arms, and strangely, you’re not pissed, you’re laughing. Laughing so hard your head’s thrown back, and your body trembles. It’s not funny–you could’ve died for God’s sake–but Taeil feels a rumble course through him; a chuckle, a giggle, a laugh. Now, he’s laughing too, though there’s nothing funny about this. He’s laughing because you’re laughing, and that’s enough of a reason for him.

“Are you okay?” you finally say, titters dissolving into a faint smile. “That was mean of me, sorry.”

Your face is inches from his, so Taeil’s voice shrinks. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry I grabbed onto you though. And, oh, uh”–he starts loosening his grip of you–“sorry I–”

"No, wait.” This time, it’s your arms curling around him. “It’s fine. I don’t mind this. It feels… nice.”

“Yeah… it - it does.”

The water laps at his sternum, and Taeil takes his chances by nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. You let him, though neither of you know each other enough for this kind of intimacy. Maybe that’s why he’s so enthralled by you. Hell, you don’t even know he’s the son of some rich socialite. To you, he’s just the pool boy. Maybe that’s why you’re playing along with him. Because there’s something exhilarating about chasing something you shouldn’t when you’ve never had to run before. Because there’s a thrill in pain when you’re unscathed. Because when you’re someone like you and Taeil, mistakes can be afforded. Anyway, what does Taeil know of pain? In fact, what does he know of you to think this? It isn’t like he knows what your intentions are with him. You’re unpredictable. That’s your whole schtick. It’s funny, because Taeil knows your pool’s pH levels better than you.

Your fingers scrape into his sopping hair.

Or maybe he likes you for you. Maybe he likes what little of you he does know. So, does he want to know more?

“What do you think of me?” he murmurs against your skin.

“You’re fun.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, then, what do you think of me?”

Taeil lifts his head from your shoulder, the strength of his embrace withering. “Honestly, I don’t really know.”

You grin. “See? It’s hard to put into words, right?”

“I guess,” he smiles. You make it sound nice that you don’t know him. You make it sound like there’s just too much that you can’t express it. Maybe that’s what’s happening right now. Maybe there’s just too much Taeil likes about you to comprehend, so he thinks there’s nothing he really likes about you at all.

“You’re funny, Taeil.”

He isn’t. “Thanks.”

Taeil’s unsure how much time passes; long enough that the water’s gone tepid at least.

“Do you… like me?” he asks. Maybe if he hears you say yes, he’ll know what all the things he adores about you are.

There’s a pause.

“You’re fun, right?” you ask, thumbing a rivulet from his cheek.

“Yeah, I’ve been told I am.”

“Then, yes.” Your lips brush his. “I like you, Taeil.”

[themidnightfarmer]

Good weekend boss? || Metzli & Jared

Location: The gallery

Tagging: @deathisanartmetzli​

Description: Getting to know who you work with. 😊

Triggers: none i think?

Jared was bustling as fast as he could into work. Carrying a cup of coffee and a bag of some things he could leave in the lunch room for people who’d missed breakfast. Though admittedly no one had taken him up on his offerings yet. Why no one wanted his mushroom and mayo bagels or spam and pickle wraps he would never know, maybe today would be the day. When he had some spare cash he’d buy something instead of making it himself. But that was a problem for another time. It took him around ten minutes into his shift before he found himself in the back looking for a piece and found his boss amongst the art. 

“Morning.” he greeted cheerfully a smile adorning his face for all of two seconds before it fell. “Good weekend boss?” The nymph inquired with uncertainty. 

Without breaking concentration on the work they were focused on, Metzli gave Jared a single wave before greeting verbally. “Morning, Mr. Gordon. Yes, I had a rager of a weekend. Multiple BDSM orgies.” A playful lie in hopes that they wouldn’t get any more questions. The weight on their chest was heavy enough from the anxiety of being in the building that Eloy knew about. Several times the night prior, they nearly called all of their employees to lay them off, close the gallery and stay inside. But that would be giving in. 

“And what the hell did you bring into this building? Your food smells awful and I could smell it from here.” Metzli finally looked up and let their eyes meet with Jared’s. The bruising had faded significantly, but it wasn’t enough to go unnoticed. “Are you looking for a specific piece or are you in need of help? I can give you more in depth training after your lunch break.”

The response was certainly not what he’d been expecting whatsoever. Enough to make this grown man blush. He opened and closed his mouth a few times letting out a soft sort of embarrassed laugh. “Really? Huh, wow okay cool. Pretty good weekend then I guess…” He trailed off. Although his eyes lingered on the marks and wondered if it was usual to be so injured...and deciding quickly that it wasn’t his business and he was DEFINITELY not going to be asking.

Jared bumbled over with his clipboard of paperwork and smiled. “I brought breakfast just in case anyone skipped it. Strong smell, great taste. It’s the good stuff!” He insisted. “Did you miss breakfast? I’ve been trying to coax some of the others, but maybe they’re too shy just yet because I’m so new…” His brain became alight with worry however as their eyes met. Completely missing the offer of more training or help with his current task he broke his own rules by asking further. “Are you uh...sure it was a fun weekend? I don’t want to like….pry too much but… you’re not looking so good…”

“The greatest.” Metzli droned, and went back to using their magnifying glass on the painting. They had just been sold a genuine Liu Wei, based on their current analysis. But their task didn’t last very long since Jared decided the conversation was still going. A fuse that was normally so long and rarely met its end, was much shorter now. Choking back a growl, they locked onto the food topic and stuck with it for as long as they could. “I don’t eat human food, Mr. Gordon. I can’t even taste it. And based on the smell of the combinations, I’m sure others would love to be blessed with—” The end of the sentence never came, they were too caught up with the genuine concern in not only Jared’s face, but his tone as well. 

Squeezing the magnifying glass, they placed it down next to the painting and circled around the table. Metzli looked like they were about to yell, go off on Jared, but they didn’t. Face softened and they sighed. There wasn’t enough energy to be angry or irritated. The vampire was simply just too tired. “No, it was not a good weekend. It was not a good week. But I’m alive. That’s all I could really hope for.”

His breakfast offering was far from his mind as Metzli rounded the table. Jared stayed where he stood, but raised the clipboard between them defensively as if that were to stop the other from throwing a punch for being so nosey. Belatedly recognising a punch was unlikely but a thorough dressing down was much more likely to be on the cards. 

“Alive is good.” The nymph commented dumbly. He stood unsure what to do for only a second before lowering the clipboard and reaching out tentatively to pat the vampire on the shoulder very gently. “Is there something I can do? I know it’s likely not something you wanna talk about or anything like that. But if something is ongoing I can maybe help. Or if it’s over and you just want to get it outta your system I can set something up.” Giving Jared this job was an incredible favour in the nymphs eyes and he’d try to return that as best as he could.

The sudden touch made Metzli lash out, grabbing Jared’s arm brashly and pulling it off. The hold threatened to be harmful, but their contracted pupils dilated, marking their mind’s return. “S-sorry. Please, don’t touch me.” Touch wasn’t something they let happen easily. Not the kind that was gentle or tender. There was too much room for deception, too much vulnerability. There were one too many times where their mother tricked them into a hug just so she could get them to come out for a punishment. Eloy did the same. “Not sure anyone can help. But that’s okay.” Posture sank and shoulders dropped despairingly. They couldn’t even help themselves, so how could anyone else do it?

“Why would you want to help anyway? We’ve met each other once.”

Jared flinched at the sudden and rather rough removal of his hand from their shoulder. Shaking his head and withdrawing a few steps to give Metzli more space around themselves. “Ah no it’s fine, sorry I forget not everyone needs the same sorts of things when things are tough.” He clutches the clipboard firmly with both hands in order to show that he won’t be reaching out again. Shooting an apologetic smile their way. “Well not sure isn’t the same as ‘can’t’ right? There’s always a chance?” Moving around the table to the other side he pushes the chair out from underneath on the other side and nods at it for his boss to take. Placing himself firmly on the other side of the table a nice safe distance from accidentally touching them again.

“Why shouldn’t I offer help if I can give it? You gave me a job. You carried me outta the way of the cops back on the street. Would be pretty shitty of me not to care at least a little about you.”

Metzli took the seat warily. It still made no sense that he wanted to help, and they were growing suspicious. Even given what they had done for him, they saw those things as favors for themself. “I did those things for me. Who’s to say you wouldn’t have ratted me out if I hadn’t moved you? And I needed a new-hire immediately. I know a lot about being an asshole considering I don’t even have a soul. Most of the shit I do is self-serving.” They shrugged and leaned back into their seat, crossing their arms. 

“You’re not bound to do anything, are you? Pretty sure the only thing you actually owe me is a meal.” Tone was doubtful and had no ounce of trust, especially for someone they did not know. “If you really wanna know, my master—my sire is after me. So I’ve been a little on edge.” They admitted a little crestfallen.

“Just because it benefitted you doesn’t mean it didn’t also really help me out?” Jared said with a dumbfounded expression. “I mean sure maybe your intention wasn’t to do good by me, but it ended up really helping me out...I uh….don’t really know what to do with the knowledge that you don’t have a soul though I mean...what does that even really mean?” The whole thought of not having a soul was lost on him completely. Weren’t they sort of fundamental? But then again if Metzli didn’t have one then he wasn’t sure what that even meant anymore, they seemed to be doing alright to him after all.

“No, not bound to anything more than another meal.” Unfortunately for the both of them, Metzlis explanation didn’t actually clear very much up for the nymph. “Your boss messed you up like that? That’s… damn that’s-...” He didn’t have words to convey what his expression likely would. A healthy mixture of confusion and a hint of disgust. 

An empty chuckle rang out and Metzli ran a hand through their hair. There was just so much going on. “You don’t have to do anything with that information. It just means I’m more of an asshole than most.” Their eyes rolled and frustration began to brew. Not at Jared, but at everything in general. Nothing was ever simple, but dammit why couldn’t it be at least simpler?

“Not my ‘boss’ but his little minions. I used to be one of them and he’s pretty angry that I’m not anymore. He doesn’t like to lose.” Metzli scoffed at their loose lips and bit the inside of their cheek to stop from revealing any more information. “Don’t know how you could help, but that’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Like I said, at least I’m alive.”

“Well...I guess some people are assholes even with a soul so it’s a good...excuse?” It was a valiant attempt to put a positive spin on things but he knew that was likely not something Metzli wanted. It was all he could think to do. Jared quickly shook his head and waved a hand for the vampire to ignore that comment, something he’d learnt early on in life...he’d been known by folk in town to say dumb things.

“So he’s a vampire like you then?” He nodded his head as he slowly connected the dots. Sire must be a vampire thing, he concluded. “So he’s trying to get you back.” Jared fiddled with the papers on his clipboard for a moment. “Well I mean, if you really don’t want me to try to help that’s okay. But I do mean it when I say I want to. Even if it’s just patching up after something like-” he gestured to his own face in places where the bruising was still apparent on their skin “- all that happens.” He didn’t quite know the extent of what was going on, but the grim expression was definitely giving him a hint. “Glad you’re alive boss.” he tacked on the end with the hint of a hopeful smile.

Metzli struggled to understand why Jared would be so concerned and willing to help. It was so easy to forget how kind people could actually be without needing anything in return. They envied that about people with souls. They were a monster, a selfish one. And it made them yearn for their soul a little more. Being soulless wasn’t an excuse. Bex had taught them that. But they were too tired to even attempt to explain. 

“Yeah, vampire like me. Only way more powerful and has actual control over me. But it’s whatever. You don’t have to be concerned about it.” Metzli rose from their seat and made their way back to the painting so they could get back to work. “Of course you’re glad, Mr. Gordon. I write your paychecks.” There was a small smirk playing at their lips, and then it curved fully. “Which reminds me, here.” Pulling a check from their pocket, they handed it over to Jared. “Everyone else is on direct deposit, but here’s your pay from last week.” The check was for a thousand dollars. “Not all of them will be like that. But you held down the fort while I was gone on your first week, so consider it a bonus.”

The nymph opened his mouth to reiterate the sentiment that they would be concerned whether they were directly involved or not but decided against arguing any further. His new boss didn’t want the attention so he’d keep it to himself. Unfortunate for the both of them that Jared had a hard time not worrying over people he knew. Especially those who found themselves in dangerous situations on the regular… Which was a description that matched far too many people Jared knew.

He mumbled quietly about how he’d been friends with all his bosses in the past before he’d worked for himself, to be cut off when handed the check. He blinked rapidly at the amount and looked up at Metzli completely astounded. Mouth opening and closing like a crazy golf obstacle Jared was speechless for a moment. “Surely that’s too much! It’s not like I did anything crazy.”

“Just take it and don’t throw a fuss. I’ll bite you if you do.” Metzli smiled at Jared and winked. They could tell he’d be a good addition to the staff, and maybe he’d be a good friend too. Making friends didn’t come very easily, though. Having friends was dangerous. The more people you had around you, the more ways you could be hurt, the more you had to lose. Part of them didn’t really care and they could see themselves not caring if Jared was killed. Soul or no soul, though, they knew that way of thinking was inherently wrong. That way of thinking was way too similar to the man they detested so much. There was no way they were going to let themselves actively be the monster Eloy molded them to be. It wouldn’t undo everything they had done up to date, and it probably wouldn’t change that they were a monster, but they could at least try. Bex told them if they could at least try, it was enough.

“Now, Mr. Gordon, care to update me on our most recent purchases and submissions? Or do you just want to carry that clipboard for no reason all day?” Metzli raised a brow as they teased him. Personality returned to the surface, and for a bit they didn’t have to be scared of their gallery, that someone could be watching them and relaying every bit of information to Eloy. That didn’t matter, not now. Not when they had worked incredibly hard to make a name for themselves.

Jared scrunched up his nose in response, only barely avoiding sticking his tongue out at his boss for the biting comment. But a quick laugh did follow as he stood up from his own seat, it seemed the brief discussion of what had been going on this last week for Metzli was finished with and it was to be back to work. Although this did mark a moment the nymph would be likely citing further down the road as perhaps the true beginning of a friendship. Sharing things like Metzli had was laying a sort of trust in Jared that he hoped he could keep.

“The clipboard is all for show.” He quipped in return before rounding the table to push the paperwork towards the other. “Or well, I was looking for this piece to mark down the code-” The nymph rambled away, happy enough to immerse himself back into work. Easily distracted.

[puttingfingerstokeys]

why are you like this?

a wee bit of humor sprinkled with some poignant father-daughter moments. Sequel to reception (which I maintain is the WORST title).

Caged Heat, (again still “aged” heat, even though technically Johnny and Liu are the SAME age--Liu didn’t age so he looks like he’s in his 20s or whatever the fuck)

broken timeline

“Dad where WERE you?” Cassie’s voice held only a note of worry, to which Johnny responded dutifully by putting both hands up in mock surrender.

“Just checkin’ out the Fire Gardens, sweetheart; how many chances do ya get to do that in your life?” He was the picture of collected contentment, having rearranged his garb after Liu Kang rumpled it with his powerful, searching hands and aggressive lips. It was fortunate they’d stopped when they had. 

“Dad… why are you wearing sunglasses?” Her eyes were narrowed, sharp, just like her mother’s and Johnny felt a pang of guilt. This “dad” was distinctly different from the first. 

“Were you toking, Mr. Cage?” Takeda’s voice danced with amusement as he and Jacqui approached, she holding his arm and leaning heavily on him; he carried her shoes while she supported her swelling belly with her other arm. Little Hanzo was nowhere to be seen, but neither parent seemed worried.

“Is that what the kids are calling it… again?” Johnny’s eyes darted about as if searching for a solution to this sudden problem about which he had considered little when Liu Kang’s lips were on his, but in the gentle light and the dark tint of his sunglasses, no one could see.

“I think he was just trying to speak your language; now c’mon, you look stupid,” Cassie interjected, reaching out and, quick as lightning, snapping the shades off her father’s face.

There was an audible gasp from more than one mouth and the silence which followed was palpable.

“I’ll be damned,” came a grunt from near the cocktail bar where Erron Black was handing something sweet-looking to Jin, who did an almost comical double take. “Check them peepers.”

“By the Great Spirit,” Nightwolf whispered in disbelief. Even Fujin seemed more than a little surprised, but did his best to disguise it—the effort was wasted. No one was looking at him. All eyes, every single cognizant pair in the place, were affixed to Johnny Cage and his new set of “peepers”.

“Definitely toking,” Takeda concluded, bumping Cassie’s shoulder with a fistful of shoes, indicating she should probably give her father’s shades back. She did not, holding them tightly, mouth puckered in that way she had just about abandoned when she hit puberty—it came back every once in a while, when she was absolutely overcome and would not be reasoned with on any account. Johnny feared this look.

“Cass’,” Johnny began to explain, but she merely squeezed her fist, crushed his sunglasses and stalked off. One groom slid something into the other’s hand as they, too, emerged from parts unknown, Hanzo bearing his namesake upon his broad shoulders. Neither of them seemed particularly shocked—pun intended—but perhaps nuptial bliss was having an effect.

“I am not calling you Lord Johnny Cage,” said Sub-Zero firmly.

“You will be lord of very little, anyway, if you do not catch your daughter,” advised Scorpion. Johnny nodded numbly and went stumbling after her, wishing he had had just a little more to drink, or maybe a little less, so he could have retained the testicular fortitude to resist… But resist what? It was Raiden’s will that he, Johnny Cage, inherit his divinity and power. He didn’t have much of a choice. You couldn’t refuse something like that, could you? Either way, Johnny hadn’t and would have felt like he was insulting the guy if he had and he was of the opinion that it was idiotic in the extreme to go around insulting gods, especially ones like Raiden. There aren’t any gods like him…

“Cass’! Cassie, wait—Cassie… please, come on… You gotta let me explain this—it’s sudden for me, too!”

She stopped then, a little ways down a path he did not recognize. They were far enough from the gathering, once again, that the sounds were fairly muted, with trees, shrubbery, and walls dividing them. Cassie did not turn, keeping her back to her father, her shoulders rounded, body tense. She was shaking but Johnny knew better than to approach.

“So you’re just gunna leave, like that—mom’s gone and now you just can’t wait to fly the coop, huh dad?” Her voice was acid, venomous, burning and corroding both of them as she spoke. Frozen in place once more, Johnny wondered what in the world he could say that would convince her that he wasn’t simply leaving, flying the coop as she put it. Because in a way, he was.

“Cassie… I’m not—”

“You ARE.” She whirled on him, but did not approach, rage spilling off her in waves. He could almost feel it from here. Any minute, he thought, my baby girl’s gunna start glowin’ green and then I’m really in for it. The urge to laugh hysterically rose up in his guts and he stifled it, though not without effort.

“I’m not,” he said, quietly but with firm authority. He was still her father and if he had to attempt to pull that card to have this discussion, he would do it. “Cassie, I would never just…”

“Then what is this? Huh?” She gestured sharply toward his face and his glowing eyes, the arcs of electricity, now visible in the dimness, beginning to arc and dance nervously over his body, across the lines of his suit, illuminating him in an eerie blue.

“Raiden’s… gone, Cass’… Liu says he’s not dead, but he’s—we’re not gunna see him again; he’s mortal now, like, really mortal and I guess his final request was to give this shit to me. Kid, I don’t want this… I don’t want any of this, but I’m…” He trailed off helplessly, looking down at his hands which he curled into gentle fists and released, watching the sparks fly. “It’s… I have to.”

Cassie watched him, studying her father carefully, eyes blurred with tears. She was certain her carefully-applied eyeliner was running, despite the waterproof label. Furious with Johnny for this affront and at Raiden for bringing it on them, she nevertheless bore that ire in silence for the moment, considering all the thunder god had done for them, and their closeness. He had become a friend and now they would never see him again. His future self had been her mother’s downfall and for that, she could not forgive him, but the Raiden who had passed his power to Johnny was not the same man. She was fond of this one.

“It’s bad timing, I know,” Johnny continued, fumbling with his words, but wanting desperately to make Cassie understand something even he could not quite grasp. “And I’m not sure why he wanted me to have this. Liu doesn’t know either. Maybe Ol’ Sparky was goin’ senile or somethin’.” 

The humor was misplaced, he knew, and neither he nor Cassie laughed. She was at least watching him now, rather than outright fuming, regarding him carefully, studying her father. She chewed her lower lip, brows knitted at the center of her forehead. In this light, she looked just like her mother and Johnny’s heart squeezed with remorse.

“This… you need this,” Cassie said, concluding her internal thoughts aloud for her father’s benefit. “Dad, I know you… I’ve known you my whole life. Back then, when I was a kid, I used to wonder why you didn’t date anyone else when mom…” She sighed, shaking her head. “I thought that you looked so lonely and it broke my heart that I couldn’t fill that space for you. Worse… I kinda figured, y’know, I was the reason there WAS a space.”

There was a lump rising in Johnny’s throat, but he suppressed it, listening to his daughter, so much like him and yet so different, so wise for her age. Better than I was, he thought. 

“I know I wasn’t, y’know? But kids…. Anyway, you aren’t the kind of person who can be alone for very long, are you?” She did not mean the question in a cruel way. She sought truth and she, to Johnny’s chagrin, was absolutely onto something. It was, of course, not a truth he had known when he was younger, had only had inklings. Now, a man well into his fifties, he had figured it out, though it still stung to hear his baby girl say so.

“No, Cassie… I’m not.” The admission felt like a weight being lifted, but this also left him exposed, as if that weight had been a shield more than a burden. “I had to do it… when you were younger ‘cause, well you know what all the books say about a never-ending parade of people in the house when you’ve got a kid…”

“Thank you, Dad. You... “ Her whole body seemed to sag as she approached her father, arms open. “You deserve a break, but it looks like you’re getting more work, huh?”

“An eternity of it,” he admitted and wrapped his arms around his daughter. Cassie held him tight, withdrawing only when she could not take the oncoming numbness. 

“I dunno if I can get used to that,” she admitted.

“I don’t think I can turn it off,” Johnny said apologetically. 

“Yeah, Raiden couldn’t either,” she responded. Her eyes caught something and she stopped. “Hey… have you got like, a glowstick necklace on under your tux? I didn’t know they were handing out goodies like that.”

Cassie gestured toward the chest of Johnny’s tuxedo which, while still on him, in the most technical sense of the word, was askew and the fabric between the buttons had come dislodged (notably, his tie clip was nowhere to be seen). Despite his best efforts, he had evidently missed a few details. Johnny looked down and began to fumble with his tie, loosening it and tugging it aside, suddenly suspicious. Images of Liu Kang and Fujin’s beautiful, glowing marks of divinity were flashing in Johnny’s head and his fingers fumbled eagerly with the top three or four buttons of his shirt. 

“Oh my god, dad…” Cassie’s hand had found her mouth and she was grinning ear to ear. “You’ve GOT to show Liu; he’s gunna flip.”

“Show me what?” Liu Kang seemed to materialize out of the darkness… Perhaps he had merely approached and they had missed him in their excitement. 

“This,” said Johnny proudly, grinning and turning and tugging the top of his shirt open a little wider for his old friend’s perusal. In place of his “Johnny” tattoo, there was, in a very similar script (albeit glowing a soft blue-white) another word:

THUNDER

Liu Kang seemed to sigh with his entire body. “Why are you like this?”