#peaches did a thing

[goldensunset]

advice i think we should tell children is that when adults say stuff like ‘now that i’m an adult i get really excited about stuff like coffee tables and bathrooms and rugs etc’ they don’t mean ‘and now i don’t care about blorbo and squimbus from my childhood tv shows anymore’ bc your average adult still loves all the same pop culture stuff they always did; they just have a greater appreciation for the mundane as well. growing up just means you can enjoy life twice as much now. you can get really excited about a new stuffed animal AND about a new kitchen sponge. peace and love

[pinknyellowblob]

small art dump…..

its mostly eddie what the flip

also home design YAAYAYAYAY

[giddlygoat]

TRADITIONAL TOAD GARB PEACH LETS GOOOOOOOO

[camzverse]

theyre playing mario kart :)

[hcdragonwrites]

A Tiger on the Mountain (a @semisolidmind Fanfic)

Here it is ! Another one. I made up a creature specifically so I could play out a scenario in my head and lead into another fic after this one. This is not a two parter but it leaves it open for a follow up!

TW: Blood and Violence and allusions to torture at the end. (Not of Peaches SHES fine)

“Get out before you become a new rug for me to wipe my feet upon.” Sun Wukong snarled over the table, his staff in his hands. The Nine Tiger Demon took a step backward at the fury. The expedition to this kingdom of monkeys and flowers had been a fools mission. Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, dipped his head cordially.

“As you wish, my Lord.” The tiger smiled and stepped out of the council room, his great black cape swirling as he exited in a flourish. He had made a jab at the Monkey Kings pride by calling him Lord. He knew that his patience was wearing thin with him. Especially after he had eluded to the weakness of mortal Ally’s.

“It is necessary to procure some of the goods they produce.” Wukong had waved the complaint aside. As if waving a fly. Zari was a lord of a snowy country where resources were few and blood was spilt as common as the snowfall. His kind had been hunted by poachers for their pelts. For the magic quality in their stripped bodies. Bones, blood, tendons, fur, claws… Everything in a tigers body was hunted for medicine, magic and mayhem. To hear that the most feared creature west of his kingdom, the great demonic Monkey King who had challenged Heaven, had made treaties with humans…

Zari had licked his muzzle sensing weakness.

“Why treat when you can take?” The tiger lord had questioned. His attendants beside him fidgeted, their hands straying to the scimitars belted to their sides. A twitch of his tail tip called them off. A tiger was playing with a monkey to see what sort of prey it had between his claws.

“And cause further disharmony around me ? Mortal men are easily placated. It leaves me free to put my resources into more important things.” Here the monkey leaned forward, eyes glowing with the torchlight. “Like seeking new territories in the east.”

The threat was received but Zari didn’t rise to the bait. He was a patient creature. The scars on his stripped hands and body proved how many battles and hunters he had outwitted.

Of course Zari had only come to sieze up the competition in the West. He never had any intentions of swearing allegiance to the ape. To debase himself to an ape? Never. So it only took Wukong a few more verbal jousts to also know the game was at an end. He had dismissed the tiger with a threat. Zari kept his claws velveted. For now.

As he stepped out of the corridor he let the slightest bit of agitation show in his whiskered face. A twitch of a tail brought one of his attendants forward.

“Gather the lower Claw.” Zari whispered. “They need a good hunt.”

“Of course my King.” The lesser demon bowed and raced off, light as a feather in the wind. At least that would humble the foolish ape—

Zari came around the corner and bumped straight into something soft, and pliable. His claws caught it reflexively before the thing fell completely onto his black armor and ruined his perfect complexion. He hissed, about to snap at this new weaker underling of a foolish king when the scent hit the top of his mouth.

Human.

“I’m so sorry!” It was female. The women pulled from the tiger claws. Her eyes remained cast down. Simple peasant clothes. Hair tied up in a messy updo. Flushed cheeks, good proportions. The tigers eyes had been blown wide.

“Are you alright miss?” Zira smoothed the twitching of his whiskers, kept the lashing of his tail to a minimum. But his instincts roared and his mouth pooled. “I did not mean to bump into so harshly.”

A captured peasant girl? A pet of this monkey kings?

“Oh no it was my fault!” The women said. She finally looked up and the tiger demon got a good look at the curve of her throat. The hot pulse just inches from his fangs.

From further down the corridor someone called “PEACHES!” The girl stiffened a bit then smiled sheepishly.

Zira felt as if he was a wolf in the sheep pen.

“I should have been watching where I was going. Carry on!” She bowed and then quickly scuttled off.

“Well well well…”Zira smiled to himself as another monkey ran past and after the fleeing women. He felt his grin widen, the drool threatening to slip. “Look like I have some entertainment myself…”

For Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, was whispered and feared by mortals across his snowy slice of the world. Legends told of how he would slip in as silent as a ghost. How he would visit families and paint their walls in red crimson and spattered gore. For Zari was a man eater, a enjoyer of mortal flesh. And his favorite prey that he enjoyed devouring most was women.

This conquest just got a bit more interesting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I Demand compensation.”

The threat would have come off more terrifying from the Monkey King if he had been dressed in his armor. However he was… not. Instead Wukong was at the present moment, begging on Peaches lap beneath a cherry tree. His face was a storm cloud as he lifted Peaches hands up to his head.

“I am afraid you won’t be getting any.” Peaches let her hand fall limply off. The stormy face broke into a beggars crocodile tears.

“PEACHESSSS!”

Macaque would have snickered at his sworn brother begging but he was also not getting any sort of touches from Peaches. He didn’t know why she had decided today of all days to deny both of them.

Why was she withholding scratches from her husbands? Well. For many reasons. For one, one of them startled her awake this morning by swooping her into his arms because he got a little too excited and woke her from her dreams. It also triggered a huge sort of panic because she has had enough of nightmares on being snatched away thank you.

Of course telling the one begging at her knees right now that his over exuberance this morning had been one of the reasons for no pats, would only lead to more exuberance.

A second reason she was including both and not just the one who scooped her ? Well because the day before Macaque thought it would be funny to pop one of his shadows beneath her while she was trying to brush her hair and in the fall the hairbrush - still tucked into her hair- wrenched. It had been painful and she had lost several bits of her own hair in it.

And thirdly? Because these two had, for all intensive purposes of the words, kidnapped her and forced her to live here upon the mountain. Yes she was still bitter about it. No she wouldn’t get over it. At least not today. Too many tricks were tugged and her personal space breached for her to simply let it go. A little bodily autonomy and boundary would be nice. Instead her two lovers would look at her as one would a family cat and go “awwwwwwww!” and scoop her up.

So two very peeved simians sat cross legged staring her down. Wukongs tail was lashing back and forth, his eyes narrowed like a cats. He reached forward and grabbed Peaches hand again. She had learned long ago that giving them the satisfaction of her resistance- how cute! They would say as she practically threw all manner of pellmell closet clutter at them- would only prolong their inevitable smothering of her.

Being impassive was her best weapon.

So she let her hand be limply lifted.

Just as limply it slid off the Monkey Kings head.

“Peaches! Come on!” Wukong groaned. He sounded like a kid begging for sweets. Peaches sniffed. The day was nice at least. She had made her way out of Water Curtain Cave and out onto the mountainside before her attendant could shove and stuff her into royal courtly attire. Not today! Peaches hadn’t wanted to attend court. She hadn’t wanted to be near that council room. Her accidental bump into that demon had been as close as she had gotten. A tiger demon? Now that was something she hadn’t seen yet.

Wukong laid himself over her lap, his face pouting up at her. He looked… adorable. It was almost enough for her to forget about his transgression this morning. It wasn’t enough. She turned her head away.

Only for Macaque to be there. He had somehow snuck up, as was his silent way, and pressed himself to her back. He slipped her into his lap, and Peaches felt a little spark of unease. Macaque was the slower of the two when it came to affection, sneaking it in or trying to tease it from her. Wukong was all action and joyful tugs and play. His was earnest and forward. Macaque was… sly. Teasing. A fox inside the chicken house.

“Sweet peach, come now.” His hands settled around her. His breath tickled the shell of her ear and Peaches fought the blush from rising in her face. Think of rocks and birds. What you will eat tonight. Anything but how his voice and how it feels rumbling against me.

“We just want to have a little comfort.” The dark furred monkey lifted her hand. He entwined his fingers in hers. They were so large. The practically swamped her own. The claws slide along the fingers as he lifted her hand and tugged it into his fur onto his cheek.

“Come on, little plumb.” His smile was as sweet as honey, as soft as downy feathers. If it had been any other day she would have mussed his fur and teased him back. However Macaque made a mistake of touching her hair with a free hand. Reminding Peaches that this little trickster had yanked some of her hair out.

She let her hand remain lax.

“No.”

“Then you leave both of us no choice.”

Macaque leaned back and with a woosh and gasp of air and black- they were back in their room. The pillow pit cushioned their fall, as did Macaque who lay beneath her. Peaches let out an indignant squeak as the demon monkey growled playfully in her ear.

“You have only a few moments before Wukong gets here. Do you want to tell me what’s up?”

“No.” Peaches sniffed. His hand was trailing along her skin, almost walking up her arm.

“Are you mad at him?” Macaque asked.

“Yes”

“Are You mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“Is it … a mad kind of day?”

She didn’t respond.

He tutted and tugged her hands free of where she had shoved them beneath her arms. He placed one against the side of his head, eyes gently closing. He kissed her palm, her wrist, her arm.

“Come on my sweet… just indulge us both..”

“No.”

“Little minx.” The purple eyes flashed along with that sharp toothed smile. Peaches felt her face flush. Macaque leaned in and over her now, his free hand twining in the hair on the back of her neck. The demon was angling her from being the one on top, to sliding her into the pillow pit with the dark haired monkey hovering above. He pulled her up and into him, and Peaches had the startling realization that she was so very very small and he was so very very large all of a sudden.

“What sins do I have to whisper into your ears ? What marks should I leave upon your skin to earn your affection again?” His eyes dipped to her lips. Peaches face felt like it was afire. “Should I sing your praises into your skin with my teeth?”

Oh dear.

And then the moment of tension was broken by a furious orange blur bursting into the room and tackling both of them. Peaches cried out while Macaques face looked deadpan at his sworn brother. The moment of tension, of turning Peaches pink as a lychee fruit, was over.

“MACAQUE! THATS NOT FAIR!” The monkey king was entangled with both of them as he grabbed the other hand and shoved it into his fur. Peaches only held onto them now as they jostled her. “HOW MANY HEADSCRATCHES DID YOU GET?”

“None…” His face was exasperated, his tail twitching at the tip.

“None?” Wukong echoed.

“None!” Macaque slammed his head closer to Wukong. Peaches was perfectly sandwiched between her husbands very bare and very exposed chests as the two brothers bristled at each other. She was loosing her own power of wills because … well. Peaches was only human. She could barely stay mad at one Monkey half dressed. Two half dressed and practically pressed cheek to pec against either side of your face ? It was a marvel her body didn’t burn up on the spot from how much she was blushing.

“Why you shouting at me then?!”

“You spoiled my sport before I could tease some out of her.”

“Oh?” Wukongs eyes shot downward. Peaches looked away, feeling like she got caught watching.

Oh no.

The two demons looked down on her. And Peaches felt like she was in danger. Not a you-will-die-and-be-disemboweled way. More of you-will-be-turned-into-a-second-sun-from-how-much-we-will-tease-you kind of way. They loomed over their mortal wife, ears perked forward and grins becoming sharp and feral.

Another burst through the door however saved Peaches from being turned into a puddle beneath the attentions of her husbands.

“Ugh what is it now?” Macaque sighed.

“My King! We are under attack!”

The two warlords changed from flirting devils to stiff and immovable stones as they stood. Macaques ears swished, forward and back, each set twitching as he confirmed it.

Wukong was across the room, his armor back on his body in a flash. His staff was plucked free from his ear, elongating in a flourish.

“Where?” The Sages voice was a silent rumble.

“Off the south slope- a band of panthers by the look of it.” The sentry’s tail was puffed in fear. Wukong nodded and was off in a flash of fur and fury.

Someone was attacking the mountain? They must be crazy. Insane. Or have a death wish.

Macaque set Peaches firmly in the Pillow pit, eyes somber.

“Love don’t move. Don’t leave this room. Understand ?” His face was pinched in worry bordering on fury. He was trying to maintain his composure for her, to hold back the anger that was threatening to bubble upward. Peaches may think of her boys a lot of way. They were selfish when they wanted her attention. They had taken her away reluctantly from her home. She had been forced to live her for the past decade or so. Her husbands were warlords, murderers and Demons.

They also cared for her a great deal, in a way that no mortal could compare. They clothed her in the finest garb but also gave her the option of comfort. They brought her to the Palace and laid laws down among the fellow demonic ally’s that she was to be respected and treated as an extension of Wukong and Macaques power. They brought her gifts from the outside world when they came back from expeditions, made her foods from the finest ingredients, told her stories of their travels. On nights when the past came back to rear it’s head she could find comfort in one or both of their arms.

And at times like this, she felt thankful that, of all the kidnapping creatures in the world, at least it had been these two.

That didn’t sound like a plus at all.

Macaque was waiting for her response. Peaches shook herself free of the cobwebs, of the past and back into the present. The mountain was under fire. Something was trying to earn the ire of the Monkey King and his People. As a very soft once mortal immortal now, Peaches had no sort of power to defend with or help. She was a liability, at least until she began her own cultivation, on the battlefield. So Peaches nodded.

“Yes.”

It was all Macaque needed. He pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered “Good girl.”

And he was gone, falling into shadow.

“Hellooooo?”

Peaches started awake at the voice. Disoriented she disentangled herself from the soft fur and pillows she had been wedged between. She must have fallen asleep some time in the day. The light coming from the windows was a burnished gold, sunset settling on the

“Someone help! Help me please…”

The voice was disjointed, the sound echoing from beyond the closed doors. It set her skin to crawling. Shouldn’t there be guards ? Shouldn’t there be someone outside the doors?

“HELP. SOMEONE HELP!”

The voice sounded like a baby! The shrill high note cut through the last hesitation Peaches had. She opened the door and rushing out into the corridor.

The echos of her footfalls bounced back to her from the stone walls. The cry came again, a baby monkey hooting in distress. It came from around corridors, downs passageways. Peaches raced forward until she had burst out of the cavern and into the dying light of the sun.

The grass swayed in the breeze. The shadows danced across the field, like stripes on a great tigers back.

She felt a shiver go up her spine. Something was terribly wrong. It felt off - the world felt off. The mountain was usually brimming with life and sound. Birds would be calling even at this late hour when day turns to night. The cicadas would be sonorously screaming their complaints to the night air. However…

Everything was still. Not a insect nor a bird called out. There were no generals or other monkeys present on the mountain. Usually sentries were littered about the fields and slopes. There was no one here at this moment.

That’s wrong. Completely wrong…

A faint gurgle, a dying cry of a baby monkey from somewhere just ahead.

“Where are You?” Peaches called. The child sounded in pain- and the sooner she got them inside the cave, the better. “You have to tell me where you are so I can help you.”

“Typical mortals.” The voice came from behind and peaches whipped around. A tiger demon, a creature of immense size and with terrifying teeth, toward behind her. Zira held the languid look of a cat with a full belly, tail swaying in the grass and claws meticulously being groomed. The blood from those long claws was the fresh scarlet of new blood.

“Your kind always come when lured by another— I was wondering if I should do a human baby or a mortal imitation but, seeing as you’ve been collared and tamed by monkeys, I thought that would be the easiest way to lure you out.” The tiger lord grinned. Peaches saw that he was fully armored. The black leather of his body was painted in dark splotches of red.

He’s … killed people. Who has he killed?? Where’s the baby ??

Peaches stepped cautiously back into the grass, heart racing. The tiger lords eyes grew round.

“Are you trying to run?” His voice was practically a pur as he stood straighter. “Please do. The chase will be good for me and clear this monstrous smell of ape blood.”

“What do you want?” Peaches needed to stall. To find a way to keep the beast talking. He liked to talk to full the silence. “Why are you here?”

“Those are boring questions dear morsel. Boring indeed. You mortals think all the same- but at least you taste better then your little brains think.” Zira stepped forward and into Peaches bubble- forcing her backward and further away from the cave. “Why am I Here ? Well to play. It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to play with another demons pet.”

Another slow pace forward. Another hasty retreat from Peaches.

“I can understand. I play rough. It’s hard when you all … scream at the slightest break of bone. At the sudden loss of limb…” the tiger lords body seemed to grow, a secondary face appearing from its left cheek. The new muzzle opened and in horror peaches heard people crying, of mortal women begging for their children. The voices of men pleaded for wives and sons and daughters. Anguished cries, cries of pain. Voices from the past.

Dead voices.

“They never last long.” The tiger smirked, that new face along his left side turning upward as well.

“So when I came to see this terrifying demon lord who has challenged heaven I expected him to have a show of strength. What I didn’t expect was a pet like you.” Those eyes flashed.

“Why? Wukong is the strongest Why—“

“Why did I not expect you?” Zira snorted. “Because demons forget themselves when they stop consuming lesser beasts and start befriending them.”

Peaches looked about her. She wouldn’t be able to make a dash back to the caves. This tiger was driving her further and further from safety. She had been a fool to try and help, a damned fool. The next best thing she could do was to try and stay alive long enough. Long enough for her to call out. Wukong or Macaque would hear her. She had no doubt on that. There was also the willow tree just ten feet behind her. If she could get to it and climb she may be able to stall out this demon.

“Now dear. How would you like to die?” The tiger was closer now as Peaches kept stepping back. She was almost back pedaling, trying to stay out of the range of those claws. Of those red teeth. “I could kill you by fang or claw. Or maybe a sword would be better. But then… where’s the fun in it for me if you die so quickly ?”

Peaches spun on her heel and ran.

“HELP!” Her lungs filled with more air, to shout to the Heavens above. The grasses bent beneath her flight. She had almost made it to the tree, almost got enough air to scream again when something slammed into her shoulder. Bright hot pain bloomed and she fell to the dirt. Her hands reached up and came away with sticky blood.

“Calling for help is useless.” Zira licked the fresh blood clean from his claws, enjoying the taste of terror on his tongue. “My men have them busy against the farthest side of the mountain.”

Peaches rolled, to get up to get away she did not know. Her movement was stopped by a booted heel to her shoulder. The new pain elicited a scream to peak from her lips. It rang eerily off the mountain that was so still. So awfully still.

“The pain will only be temporary.” Zira knelt. The tiger reached down with his clawed hands. He cupped her face as she fought him. He smiled and opened his jaws wide to close over her throat.

The suns last dying ray cast a shadow as black as night over the grassy floor. It pooled beneath the mortal women and then, with a slip and tug, Ziras prey was swallowed by the black. The tiger snarled claws raking the soil in a vain attempt to dig her back out.

“So it was you.”

Zira turned.

There, leaning against his staff was the Monkey King. His clawed hands and golden armor were covered in black blood. Zira felt a worm of unease creep into his calm and cocky smile. Those warriors had been the best of his Claw- the best in the Snowy Steppes. There was no way they had failed—

“Ah King Wukong!” The tiger Lord began. If he could stall him out, lead him into a false sense of security, then that would be better. It would buy him time to get closer, to steal into range and pounce. “So nice to see you agai—-“

The tiger lord didn’t even see the moment. On second the orange monkey was standing before him and the next he felt a blooming pain cut along his secondary face. He roared in confusion as the sight from those eyes was lost in a shower of blood. The tiger had no time to reorient himself however. The neck blow was to one of his hands. Sun Wukong clasped one in hand and with a terrible crunch, shattered all the bones within.

Panic came traipsing up the tigers spine. This was not good. The monkey was moving incredibly fast - too fast- for him to counter. He reached for his Scimitar- the blade of Nine Tigers- to end the fight. This blade could cut mountain in half- it could cleave souls from bodies and leave the flesh whole.

“You come to my mountain…”

The staff slammed into the side of his head, casting several of the tigers teeth from his jaws. He was unbalanced but determined. He just had to grab his sword —

“You attack my home…”

Another blow to his middle sent him slamming into the willow tree. The force of it snapped the bark and collapsed the Willow behind him. Zira felt stars float in his vision, tasted his own blood. He had a hand on his sword now though. He drew the blade, cutting it across the insolent ape that towered over him. Wukongs soul would be cleaved, his body left behind for the flies to lay eggs in. He would be dead. The blade sliced —

And snapped in half.

“You tried to devour my wife…” Fear is not something a tiger experienced often. It raced over his stripes, twitched his crushed whiskers, and made his eyes widen. That had been his wife ? That common little dustmote ? Zira had miscalculated. A pet was one thing. But a wife —

“You took… a mortal… as a wife? Pa—“ Zira tried for bravado, tried to spit into the monkey lords face. The tiger was desperately clinging to what remained of his pride. He had chased a rabbit into a ravine and found wolves.

Zira opened his jaws to cast his last disrespect. Only for the claws of Wukong to cut along his jaw and crush it closed before he could finish.

“I will break every bone in your body before I let you die. You will wish you were dead before I’m done with you.”

The shadows swallowed Peaches and arms wrapped around her but she was still flailing. She grabbed at fur and skin and battered her fists and nails against it.

“Ow - PEACHES - PEACHES ITS ME!” Macaque voice cut over the adrenaline that floated high and fast in her blood. She blinked at him. They were back in their room, back inside Water Curtain Cave. Peaches hand was still curled in a fist, still raised up to beat along her captors face. Only. This wasn’t the tiger anymore. It was Macaque.

“It’s just me.”

“I’m not dead am I?” What stupid words to say but it was the first thing her numb mind could think on.

“What? No.” Macaques face was a sea of worry lines as he gently turned her shoulder to him. The blood was sopping beneath the cloth of her shirt. He gave it a sniff and murmured in soothing tones. Mostly to himself. “But I’m concerned for your shoulder. Let’s get that looked at alright ?”

Peaches nodded. Macaque used his claws to rip free the ruined cloth of the shirt and gain better access to the claw marks.

“It’s an ugly scratch but nothing deep.” She felt his hands, paper soft press along the skin. She hissed at the fiery pain as damaged nerves and sore skin protested. “Peaches you will have to be brave for me and let me stich it closed ok?”

She nodded. Her mind was still processing the events just moments ago. Of tiger teeth flashing to bite her throat. Of claws cutting her skin. Macaque returned to her and tugged her into him. She didn’t protest. Didn’t stop as he pulled her hand up to his face. She twined her fingers into the fur, needing the grounding almost, if not more, then he did. Macaque made soothing chirps and soft noises as he worked, pulling needle through flesh and closing it up.

It was only after a time, when Peaches own fear began to fall away, that he asked her.

“Why did you leave the room Peaches ?”

“I heard … it sounded like one of the babies Mac.” One of the little monkey babies all alone and crying for help. The haunting sound echoing off the stone and always just out of reach. “One of the littles in pain and hurt. I didn’t think. I just … acted.”

“Mmm.” Another stich pressed into her skin and she flinched. “You know this means you will have to have a day guard now yes?”

“Are you putting more restrictions on me after I almost got devoured ?” It was a bad attempt at humor but Peaches tried anyway. Whenever something happened to her - if it was an imagined insult from a courtier, a threat to her life because she tried something new and it didn’t agree with her- the boys would set new limits, new conditions. Macaque scowled at her and she bit her tongue from adding to the humor.

“Precautions. If I hadn’t heard you—“ His voice chocked at the end. Peaches looked back. Macaques ears were all low, dropping like flower petals. For all their faults, for their transgressions in taking her choices from her, they loved her. Peaches could see that love in Macs eyes as he imagined the possible outcomes that could have happened. She twirled her fingers around s patch of his fur, soothing him and herself with the confirmation that this was the reality now and not those flashing teeth.

“We can’t loose you Love. I — we — we were so afraid.” When Macaque had heard the strangled help in the heat of battle he had stopped. He had felt his heart give a lurch and Wukong had been of like mind. That battle was practically won. Between the two sworn brothers, nothing much could stand in their fury. But hearing Peaches— Peaches who they left back safe in their room, in the palace, calling for help—

“I was too.”

“When I tell you to stay inside - stay inside. Understand?”Anger laced Macaques words as he pinned her with a look.

“Yes.” It wasn’t good enough though. Not for him. It wouldn’t be for Wukong. The next time the mountain was under attack—if there was a next time— Macaque would lock the doors and the windows. He would shudder the room in shadow if he had to. But. A yes for now was the best he would get from her.

“Good. That’s all the chewing out I’ll give you because when Wukong gets here he’s going to have some very harsh words with you.” Peaches shoulders flinched a little.

“He’s mad at me?” There was genuine hurt and dismay in her voice. Wukong and Peaches had the toughest days when it came to their relationship. Some days she could forget he had taken her without her consent from all she knew- had wiped her village clear off the map. Other days she only saw the blood soaked Warlord in all his fury. On those days arguments ensued and the kings mood was ever sour.

“Never mad at You.” Macaque reassured. Wukong never was genuinely upset at their peach. How could he be when he was enamored with her so? Macaque couldn’t even keep his own anger at her negligence of self after todays events. All she had to do was look at him with that puppy dog look and he was wanting to tease and soothe her into smiles and comfort. “Never. Afraid for your life ? Absolutely. He has half a mind to keep you indoors from now on.”

“He said that ?”

“As we were racing to come get you yes.” Macaque finished the stitches with a pull and tug. The cord came free in his claws. He set about binding cotton gauze around the area to protect the stitches. In the morning he would let them breathe.

“But I think if you let him coddle you for a few days and you agree to a guard, he won’t take your outside privileges away.” Macaque teased and gave advice. Wukong could get a bit … territorial when it came to their Peach. He understood how important it was to give some sort of semblance of freedom to her. Peaches was like a flower- she needed light and air to thrive. If Wukong took that away, he wouldn’t like how she would wilt. Even though Macaque himself had half a mind to keep her inside forever. Especially after today.

Peaches head brushed beneath his chin suddenly and the monkey was jarred from his thoughts. She was nodding off, fighting sleep. Macaque gathered her up easily and set her into the bed they shared. He took care to arrange the pillows, to settle her into her most favorite blankets and soft things. It was a distraction from the rage that now was bubbling upward. For though Macaque had the calmest demeanor- he was just as bloody and furious as his brotherly counterpart.

“Go to sleep.” He commanded. Peaches yawned, catching the trailing end of his tail.

“You won’t leave me … will you?”

“I will be right here till Wukong gets back.”

It was hours later when Macaque heard his brother step into their rooms. Wukong had bathed and cleaned himself elsewhere from the smell of the water and floral oils coming off of him. They both knew how Peaches had an aversion to the scent of blood. The monkey king was across the room and hovering over the pillow pit where she slept.

“How is she?” Wukong asked. All the rage had gone from him. Only worry remained. His tiny little wife… he could still see the Tiger hovering above her, his jaws parted wide over her throat to devour. It made Wukong wish to break his muzzle again.

“Worn out. The cuts are superficial at best. I stitched them up.” The sheen of white medical gauze and cotton took over one lovely shoulder of Peaches back. Wukong felt his teeth beginning to grit in a threatening smile.

“Why would she go outside?! Peaches isn’t a fool.”

“And she wasn’t one.” Macaque soothed. He was standing now that Wukong was here, making his way to the door slowly. “She went outside because she heard the bastard imitate a baby cry.”

“A baby?”

“She thought it was one of the babies.” Wukongs heart gave a shudder. Of course she would throw caution to the wind. His Peaches loved the children of the mountain almost as much as he himself did. “Peaches said she went out to look and that’s when he leapt at her.”

Wukong felt a bit of his anger ebb. He was never angry at Peaches. He could never be. But anger around how she acted ? … yes. That was a possibility. Hearing how she didn’t go out until she thought it was a baby- well. He couldn’t fault her for that.

“The sentries are dead.” Wukong had come across their bodies after restraining the tiger demon. Seeing his peoples cut throats and crumpled bodies had not soothed his anger. He hoped the tiger healed quickly enough so he could repay them for each of his peoples lives. “The tiger killed them. He thought he could kill me by swinging his fancy sword. Too bad it snapped on the first try.”

“Did you leave him alive?” Macaque was at the door now, his fists uncurled.

“He’s somewhere beneath us in a wet cave. I broke all the bones in his body. But … I Left the tail for you.”

“Good.” The door opened and his brother was gone.

Wukong stared at Peaches as she slept for a moment. He had almost lost her today. He half wanted to wake her up and shake her and the other half just wanted to keep her tucked away and safe inside the mountain. Wukong would pull promises and such from her tomorrow. In fact, he may have to teach her some basic self defense. She would never be able to stop a full demonic beast. It would ease his mind however - it would sooth him and settle the fur that kept rising along his back- if she at least had an understanding of what tricks and traits demons used to tempt food out of hiding.

Wukong slid into the nest, settling himself so he didn’t jostle her awake. Tomorrow he could sit her down and tell her the new precautions he would have to merit out. A new guard, lessons in defense, maybe even a copy of him nearby or in the shape of some common item… Wukong could gift her a hairpin each morning and do her hair with a copy of himself. A magical copy that would have ears out for any mischief she may wind up falling into.

It would give her the illusion of freedom without telling her I put a spy on her person. That made Wukong feel better. For the next few days however, she wasn’t leaving his side. He didn’t care if she cried out or pouted or started to throw things. They had almost lost her.

Peaches half woke with a start as Wukong adjusted the blankets about her. Her face came upward, staring and trying to see all about.

“Wukong?”

“It’s just me… you can go back to sleep.”

To his astonishment Peaches shifted, settling herself into his chest. Wukong welcomed her tangle, twining has hands into her hair as she tugged on his fur. Her cheek was pressed to his chest where his heart must be hammering beneath. The Monkey king made soothing chirps and soft calls to her, a reassurance of safety and care. Soon enough her fingers relaxed again as she fell into sleep.

He kissed her temple and nose, twirling his fingers through her hair. It was just as soothing for him as it probably was for her.

Wukong was glad the tiger had been able to survive him. He couldn’t wait to gift his pelt to her when he was finished with him.

If Macaque didn’t kill him after all.

[peaches2217]

Untarnished

Chapter 3 (TW: Brief but graphic descriptions of injuries)

AO3 link! | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Beginning

~~~

“P-presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Daisy Nambuthiri of the Sarasaland Empire, Firstborn of Emperor Oleander and Heir Apparent to—”

“Move it!”

The squeak of an unfortunate messenger Toad being knocked against a wall preceded Daisy’s appearance, and not once did she look behind to acknowledge the carnage left in her wake. At some point in the near future, Peach knew she would have to make amends for whatever property destruction and bruised egos she’d doled out in her haste.

For the time being, the shock and joy that came with her arrival far outweighed any sense of responsibility. Peach stood as quickly as she could without getting lightheaded, and Daisy cried her name as she lunged forth, pulling her into a familiar, full-bodied hug, ever-so-slightly uncomfortable hug.

“Sacred Stars!” Daisy cried, her voice cracking. “Hooooly shit! The crazy bastard did it!”

Peach subconsciously filled in the blanks; “the crazy bastard” was Mario, she presumed, and “it” was her successful rescue. For Daisy of all people to consider such a feat foolhardy… Peach felt suddenly dizzy, her stomach heavy. It took a great deal of adversity to dishearten the strong-willed princess. 

Just how hopeless must her inner circle have felt as the weeks dragged on? Would anyone have been able to save her if Mario hadn’t?

She squeezed Daisy back, feebly, yet with all her strength. She was alive. She was alive and she was here and she would restore things to their proper order in due time, and that was all that mattered.

Daisy kept her hands on Peach’s shoulders when she pulled away, just as Luigi had the night before. Perhaps they both worried she would float away if they didn’t keep her grounded. She couldn’t blame them for such an assumption; she had lost most of her “padding,” so to speak, in the past months. Nothing fit the way it was supposed to anymore. Toadette had spent the better part of an hour pinning her into one of her nicer dresses here in her bedroom.

And judging by the distaste with which Daisy’s eyes swept over her attire, Peach guessed that she still didn’t look presentable enough.

“Oh, no,” she muttered, though she sounded more agitated than devastated. Her eyes then swept over the room until they fell upon Toadsworth, standing loosely at attention by the bed’s baseboard… and what joy remained in her face morphed into something far less friendly.

Peach knew exactly what was about to happen. Suddenly she didn’t feel quite so joyous either.

“And you! ” She threw an accusatory finger in his direction, so swift and sudden that he stumbled backward a step or two. “Maybe you can give me a good answer here!”

Peach instinctively jerked in his direction, intent on catching him, but he righted himself with a soft Hmph! before she could break from beneath Daisy’s hand. “Daisy,” she implored softly, returning her attention back to her belligerent friend, “this isn’t the time—”

“I had to fight through thousands of Toads and like a hundred different journalists and news crews just to get inside!” Daisy soldiered on. “Everyone’s saying the Princess is gonna give a speech at the top of the hour!”

In spite of Peach’s stuttered protests, Daisy pulled her into a side-hug, so tight that it actually hurt. Daisy’s strongest embraces were capable of bruising, even when Peach was in otherwise good health. She almost dreaded to think what her arms would look like after she was turned loose.

“But that’s crazy, right? She’s been a prisoner of war for the past three months and just got home last night! So that whole crowd’s just misinformed, and you’ve only got her all dressed and made up so you can figure out what she needs in the way of gowns and cosmetics, and the Princess isn’t doing anything that doesn’t involve food or rest for at least the next few weeks.” Daisy squeezed even tighter, and Peach swore she felt something pop. “Right? ”

“Hey! Cool your jets!” It was Toadette who spoke up now, throwing herself in front of the elderly steward with her arms spread wide. “Look, I get it! But do you think we didn’t try talking her outta this?”

“Oh, don’t go pinning this on—”

“She’s right.” Peach made her best effort to pry herself free of Daisy’s arm, wincing as she did so. Stars Almighty, she was still so sore. “Daisy, I agreed to this,” she said, quickly giving up her efforts and refocusing her energy. “Willingly, and against both of their wishes.”

Daisy scoffed, not even looking her way. “Toadsworth, you’re technically still in charge, right? Lay down the law! Tell her to get her butt back to the infirmary!”

Toadsworth’s features, already tense with indignity, turned solemn, betraying the extent of his weariness. Yes, he was still in charge. Yes, he had expressed reluctance at the thought of a press conference so soon. But he’d given her the freedom to choose, because he knew as well as she did what sorts of sacrifices needed to be made. Something burned within Peach, not quite anger, but close enough. Hadn’t he already endured enough?

“N-n-now, Lady Daisy,” he managed to interject, tapping his cane to the floor and gently pushing Toadette aside, “I understand your concern, but you must understand. This has been a difficult time for our kingdom. The people want a statement from their Princess.”

“The people—” Daisy sputtered for a moment, and she finally let go of Peach to engage in a spot of frustrated gesticulation. “Well! In that case, this princess has a statement to make, too…”

“Daisy…”

“The people can go bend over the railings and shove those cameras up their stubby— ”

“Daisy!” That feeling like anger flared into a flashover, granting Peach the strength to turn Daisy in her direction, take firm hold of her shoulders, and glare her into silence. She fell silent alright, but she glared right back at Peach, her turquoise eyes wide and her eyebrows furrowed, her cheeks hot with an anger far more indignant than her own.

Peach knew her friend too well to be upset at her behavior. Daisy’s hostility was never random. She was, if Peach had to guess, afraid. Just as Peach was afraid last night, hearing the screams of a loved one she couldn’t reach, helpless to ease his pain; such fear can push even the most level-headed of individuals to rash extremes. No one in such a state could make fully rational decisions.

“I’m going to wave and say a few words of encouragement, then I’m going straight back to the infirmary.” She squeezed Daisy’s shoulders in wordless reassurance. “I promise.” I don’t have the energy for much else, she thought about tacking on, but she decided against it. Best not admit just how tired she truly was.

Granted, she couldn’t pretend the idea thrilled her. To step into the public eye and show her people a Princess that had grown frail and emaciated, her golden hair now a lusterless yellow, a thick caking of makeup barely hiding a countenance burdened with scratches and bruises… she wanted to shed her regalia and wash her face clean. She wanted to crawl into her nightgown, cover herself in fluffy blankets, eat soup and laugh with her friends and just exist for a while.

She longed above all else to be back in Mario’s arms, warm and safe, drifting in and out of blissful sleep. She had promised to be there when he woke up again. Could he forgive her for abandoning him?

But she also longed to see her subjects once more. For three months, they’d lived under constant fear that she would never return, that life as they knew it would be uprooted and set ablaze. She wanted to stand in the sun before them so they could hear her voice and see for themselves that their resilience hadn’t been in vain.

Her duties as a ruler came above all else. She would be the people’s Princess for a few minutes, then she could be Peach again. Poor, pitiful, pathetic Peach. 

It took several seconds more of unbroken eye contact, but finally, Daisy’s face softened.

“You look terrible, Peach Pit,” she said, voice quiet. I don’t want to lose you again.

Peach couldn’t help but smile. “So I’ve been told.” You won’t.

Tinnnnng! Tinnnnng! Tinnnnng! The grandfather clock next to her writing desk chimed out the top of the hour. It was time.

“You’re sure about this?” Daisy covered one of Peach’s hands with her own, and the smile she returned was begrudgingly playful, if heavy. “Last chance. We can still bail you out.”

“I think I’ll live.”

With one more quick embrace, Daisy straightened the ruffles of Peach’s bodice, gave her sleeves a quick poof, then nodded in approval. Toadette’s carefree mannerisms and brash mouth belied a delicate touch with both fabric and cosmetics. Though she still didn’t care to look into a mirror, Peach trusted that she looked presentable.

This notion kept her calm as she made her way to the double balcony doors. “Right behind you, Princess,” she heard Toadsworth say as she rested her hands on the brass door handles, and that added an extra layer of mental security. Right. She wasn’t alone. A few words, a smile or two, and then it would be over. Simple enough.

With a quick breath, she gracefully pushed the doors open.

The world outside went still — and then plunged into chaos.

Interlacing her fingers and squeezing as hard as she could was all that stopped her from slapping her hands over her ears. The roar of the crowd was deafening. Cries of “Princess!” and “Oh, thank the stars!”  and a thousand other celebrations merged into a single mass of sound, rumbling and churning and vibrating in her eardrums.

The sunlight that assaulted her as she passed the overhang was equally relentless, and for a moment, it blinded her. All she could see was white. The roar was even louder with one less sense to guide her, and it was hot, she realized, her chilled skin suddenly vulnerable, burning—

His blood soaking into her dress was the first warmth she had felt in three months. Her hands stung when she touched him. When she jerked away at the pain, the top layer of his skin came with her, gooey and red and black. Skin wasn’t supposed to feel like that— he wasn’t supposed to look like that—

“Princess?”

Peach jolted, and it all slammed into focus: rolling green hills. A cloudless blue sky. A sea of colors and caps and polka dots, smiling faces, triumphant pink flags and banners.

No. No, no, this was her reality. This was her present, and this was her kingdom, and these were her people, and she couldn’t afford to lose sight of that, not so publicly.

Her feet stopped when she reached the balcony’s edge, and she held onto the wall for dear life, for fear of collapsing. The stones were warm, having basked all morning in the summer sun. It wasn’t heat of an oppressive or debilitating sort. It was comfortable.

It was home.

She lifted her head, and she raised her hand, and the world went silent once more. And with a disconnect she hadn’t known she was capable of, she closed her eyes, fell back onto a lifetime’s worth of training, and let that training do the talking for her.

.

.

.

.

.

“...so kickass! You did awesome! ”

“We shouldn’t have doubted you for a moment, Peach Pit! Look at you, showin’ ‘em who’s boss!”

“Excellent, my dear. Most excellent.”

It took a few moments for Peach to come back to herself. The sight of blue skies and green hills faded into swaths of white and pink silk, her hands planted in her lap, her eyes fixed on some point between or beyond them. The warmth of the sun had long since left her; once more, a chill settled over her, so familiar by now that she didn’t even shiver. The chair beneath and behind her felt both luxuriously soft and rigid.

Too many hands were on her. There was one on her back, one on her shoulder, one on her knee, one holding hers. She couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, hold up— give her some space! Give her some space. She needs a minute.” It was Toadette’s voice that made the call, and then all points of contact left her, and her newly-released body pulled in a loud, shuddering gasp of air, so deep and so fast that her lungs burned.

It took a few more breaths for Peach to be able to acknowledge the rest of her surroundings. She was back in her room, surrounded by her steward and two of her closest friends, the balcony doors closed once more.

“You okay?” It was Daisy who asked this, and after another breath, Peach was able to nod.

She had checked out. She had fully, mentally checked out from the moment she spoke until she got back inside. Peach wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with the phenomenon; being able to detach herself from her innermost thoughts and feelings and allow her training to take control had allowed her to save face in many a high-stress scenario.

It just… usually wasn’t this… intense.

A knock on the door gave her one more real-word happening to focus on. By the time Toadsworth reached the bedroom door, Peach was able to stand (with minimal wobbling) and collect herself, setting her shoulders back and lifting her chin. One more visitor. Okay. She could handle one more visitor.

The door opened, and suddenly Peach didn’t feel quite so collected anymore.

Luigi ducked his head and stepped into the bedroom, his cap clutched to his chest in a gesture of respect. He smiled at her, but it was an uneasy smile, one that only barely hid a metric ton of uncertainty. His eyes, only slightly less tired than last night, were unreadable.

He had caught her just before she left the medical ward that morning. He had promised he’d come get her if Mario’s condition worsened. He had grinned and promised she wouldn’t see him until she returned, stars willing.

Peach’s knees went weak beneath her. 

“D-don’t panic, Princess, don’t panic!” Luigi was quick to say, reaching out as if preparing to steady her. “Nothing’s wrong! Nothing’s wrong. Mario’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.”

Though it was too late to keep her upright, Peach breathed a sigh of relief, sinking back into her chair. Too much. Today was just too much. “Nothing’s wrong,” she repeated, both in question and to resettle her nerves. 

But if nothing was wrong…

“Then what are you…?” Peach gestured up at him, letting her hands finish her sentence.

“Actually, there’s, uh… y’see, there’s nothing wrong, per say, but something’s…”  Luigi cracked his neck, his eyes uneasily darting to another corner of the room, and then he pulled his cap back onto his head. “I-I think you need to see for yourself.”

~~~

Sure enough, Mario was okay. Where he’d been swaddled in gauze when she’d left that morning, he was now uncovered, his entire upper half exposed.

And he looked… perfectly healthy. Almost unharmed.

Areas where Peach remembered gashes and deep scratches had faded into clusters of scars, the larger ones pink and fresh, the smaller ones pale, as though he’d attained the original injuries weeks ago. Patches of burnt skin that blistered and oozed the night before now wouldn’t even pass for sunburns, they blended so seamlessly into his skin. His face, completely unblemished, not even lingering hints of bruising or bleeding or anything of the sort.

Last night, there had been a gash in his left side, spanning from the base of his ribcage to his hip. When he’d first reached Peach, it spilled blood freely, and though she tried blocking the image from her head, she distinctly remembered seeing exposed, severed muscle and what might have been bone. Even after flooding him with every bit of magic she possessed, it only stayed closed — and barely, at that — thanks to strips she had torn from her own skirts and wrapped tightly around him. By the time they reached home, those strips were all but dripping with ichor and infection, pink fabric dyed red and green and yellow.

Now, that same wound idly seeped a clear fluid, the width of her thumb at its widest point, already scarring at one tip. Though a blanket covered everything from his hips down, she presumed the opposite tip was in a similar stage of healing.

Once she had gotten a proper eyeful, Peach sank into the loveseat against the wall, Daisy and Toadette quickly joining her on either side. The notion that she might be dreaming after all hovered nearby in spite of the informal guard flanking her; while the doctor filled everyone in, she quietly stamped her foot a few times to agitate the sores there. Good. She never felt pain in her dreams.

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen anything quite like this,” Dr. Toad (not to be confused with Dr. Nurse Toadessa or Captain Toad or Toad Himself) confessed. Beady eyes peered over thick spectacles, flicking back and forth between his patient and an oversized clipboard in his hands. “Now, I’ve seen a handful of 1-UP patients, and that’s about the closest comparison I can make, but…”

Peach’s eyes met Luigi’s, who was standing vigil at his brother’s bedside, and the question on his face was clear: Did you sneak him a 1-UP? She shook her head. 1-UPs, the colloquial term for a subspecies of Mushroom with power so potent it could even restore the dead, were found so rarely in nature that many still believed they didn’t exist. Ten of these specimens sat in the royal vault, but even Peach herself wasn’t permitted to access them without going through several layers of security and fail-safes.

And anyway, if she understood correctly how their magic worked—

“Well,” the doctor continued, “when someone consumes a 1-UP, everything heals up. The body’s restored to prime condition, any sicknesses or infections disappear, there’s no trace the patient was ever hurt to begin with.” He cleared his throat, and something like fascination twinkled in his dark eyes. “That’s where the divergence comes in: none of this has been instantaneous. He’s healing up like anyone else would, just… at an alarmingly accelerated rate.” 

Another four sets of eyes turned back to Mario, still sound asleep. One couldn’t tell just from looking that he had been on death’s door only twelve hours earlier. That should have gladdened Peach. But…

Alarming. She didn’t like that word at all. She knew with a fair amount of certainty that this wasn’t the work of her magic; the initial burst she’d transferred to him wore off in an hour’s time, and any additional slivers she’d slipped him surely weren’t strong enough to linger much longer than that, much less heal to this extent.

What, then…?

“So how bad was he last night?” Daisy asked.

“Pretty… pretty bad.” Luigi’s response was quiet, his eyes distant as he spoke, and Peach knew then that he’d seen exactly what she had seen. Possibly even more. She gnawed at the inside of her cheek and focused on taking deep breaths.

“So he’s gone through like, what,” Toadette chimed in, “two or three weeks’ worth of R&R in one night?”

“I’d say closer to a month or two. His infection’s almost completely gone. He’s still running a fever, but it’s a lot lower than it was last night.” Rolling up the sleeves of a comically oversized lab coat (or at least attempting to — they fell right back into place, earning a stifled chuckle from Daisy), the doctor scribbled some indistinct note onto his clipboard’s topmost paper. “Granted, I’ve only seen how 1-UPs affect Toads and Koopas and a Goomba or two. Maybe it works differently in humans?”

Though his tone carried the weight of skepticism, Peach was at least half-heartedly willing to accept it. Such specimens were rare, yes, but they did exist. Perhaps Mario had stumbled across one on his way to the Darklands and consumed it with the belief that it was just an ordinary Mushroom? That coupled with her magic could easily…

Wait. Come to think of it, had she even told anyone? Wouldn’t that be useful information to divulge?

“I did attempt to heal him myself.” She clasped her hands in her lap as she spoke, tapping her thumbs together absently. “What we’re seeing is beyond what I’m capable of, but perhaps that comes into play?”

Dr. Toad’s eyes flashed with revelation. “Ah! Of course!” he cried, waving his pen in her direction. “That would explain things a bit better. I imagine your wish power certainly played a role.”

“Wait— w-what exactly did you do? ”

Peach’s heart jolted at Luigi’s inquiry, then it gradually sunk as she faced him. She watched in real time as his face changed, surprise phasing into cogitation phasing into dawning realization, and she felt helpless to do anything but meet his darkening gaze as the implications set in.

“...What did you do?” he asked again, and Peach heard the question buried beneath loud and clear: If he was in such bad shape last night, how bad was it before you healed him?

Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t said anything. Or she at least wished she’d brought it to the doctor in private. She lowered her eyes and studied the stitching of her gloves. She’d hoped to spare him the knowledge.

“Well, I… I did what I could. I transferred as much of my magic as I could summon when he reached me and rationed out what remained on the journey home, so that he…” So that he wouldn’t bleed out or go septic or drop dead from shock. She had no desire to say as much out loud. Surely Luigi got the picture.

A quiet click-click-click echoed through the room. “Well,” Dr. Toad said, fidgeting with the thrust device on his pen as he thought, “I would guess that’s it. Your wish power can linger when used in large enough bursts, can it not? But I would expect the effects to weaken over time, especially the more you use up, not…”

When he didn’t finish his thought, Peach lifted her eyes to the doctor… and found him staring directly at her. Once more she watched as confusion morphed into realization, and this time, she came along for the ride.

Yes. She could only use so much wish power in one go before needing to recharge. She had never actually pushed beyond that point. Not before last night.

The doctor blinked once, twice, then he finally took the plunge, his voice stern but even: “How much of your power did you use, Your Highness?”

Peach swallowed.

“As much as I had,” she confessed, quietly. And when she still felt eyes boring into her, she added: “...and then some.”

A silence fell over the room, cold and heavy. The steady beeping of Mario’s heart monitor was Peach’s only proof that she hadn’t fallen deaf.

“Oh, Stars Almighty— Peach!” 

Peach winced. For Toadette to use her name alone, she knew she was in deep trouble.

“You’re not some well of infinite magical ability!” her lady-in-waiting continued. “You know if you keep using magic after you use up all your wish power—”

“—I deplete my lifeforce.” Balling her hands into loose fists, Peach found the nerve to look her directly in the eye, unwavering. “I’m well aware.”

Yes, she knew the risk of overextending herself. An innate magic lay deep within her, so potent and pure that it allowed her to wield the power of the Stars Themselves; this, in turn, was what granted her the ability to heal, to renew. Yet she was only human, and she could only wield so much of that magic safely. The Stars would therefore only grant her a limited amount of power each time she summoned it.

She could push herself beyond what the Stars would permit, and she could tap into her magic directly once her wish power was expended, but doing so would come at a cost: the depletion of her lifeforce. Toadsworth drilled this information into her head every time she so much as healed her own paper cuts in his presence.

She’d never stopped to wonder what exactly depleting her lifeforce meant, or even implied; she’d never been in a position where she had to. She’d vaguely interpreted this warning as Your magic at its most powerful is so taxing that it will overwhelm your body and kill you.

But it was far more than that, she understood now. Her lifeforce and that dangerous, forbidden magic within her were one and the same. She knew full well the risk she took in giving Mario that final push to the finish. What she hadn’t realized — what she realized now — was that the magic she had desperately transferred to him in those final moments was far more than mere magic.

She had, in essence, given him part of her very soul, the ether that breathed being into her. And the only reason she was still alive was because he had broken free and urged her to make that last push alongside him.

Peach grit her teeth and stamped her foot once more, and the stinging sensation in her sole distracted from the burning in her eyes. He had saved her twice over. No reward would ever come close to being payback enough.

The sofa dipped on one side of Peach, then Daisy stood, the newly-decompressed cushion sending Peach toppling over onto Toadette.

“So… what does that mean?” Daisy pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut and brows furrowed tightly, and as Peach righted herself and muttered an apology to her lady-in-waiting, her fellow princess began to pace the width of the room. “‘Depleted her lifeforce’? What does— does that mean she’s, like, a goner? Is she dying now? How much time does… Oh, Peach, what did you…!”

Her voice pitched and cracked as she spoke, her freckled cheeks growing darker, and Peach desperately tried and failed to still the trembling that overtook her. Daisy was once more answering fear with anger. Peach wanted so desperately to alleviate her woes, assure her that everything would be alright, magically undo everything that had been done, somehow... but there was nothing worth undoing. Knowing for a fact that her actions saved Mario’s life, she couldn’t bring herself to regret what she had done. Did that make her remorseless? Selfish?

Guilt and pride and joy and fear. Peach wanted now more than ever to sink into the loveseat’s cushions, to curl into a ball and disappear until this poison fog of emotions passed her by.

“Clearly she’s not a goner, ” Dr. Toad mercifully interrupted, “lest she wouldn’t be here with us now.” He flipped frantically through the papers on his clipboard, as if one of them might contain a field guide for such a niche problem’s diagnostic outlook. “Her, uh, her lifeforce should be self-sustaining, same as her wish power. It’ll likely refill given time.”

“You don’t know that for sure?!” 

“Admittedly there’s very little documentation on—”

“Well maybe all you geniuses should have documented this shit better —”

“Hey, hey, we’ll figure it out, don’t—!”

A quiet groan silenced the trio of overlapping voices. Peach’s leaden heart suddenly leapt into her throat.

Mario was no longer the picture of peaceful rest. His face was screwed into a tired grimace, and he turned his head away from the commotion at his bedside with another pained noise.

He still sounded so weak. Peach wanted so terribly to rush to his side, take his hand, ease what remained of his pain somehow. Show him that she hadn’t broken her promise after all. She scooted to the edge of her cushion, waiting for his eyes to flutter open.

They never did. Mario sighed in his sleep, and then he was still and silent once more, his chest steadily rising and falling.

Looking over to Luigi, Peach’s heart fell once more. Had he been this pale all day? She realized, watching him stare down at his brother with hollow eyes, that he hadn’t spoken at all since Peach made her confession.

“Perhaps we should continue this at another time,” Dr. Toad suggested in a voice just above a whisper. His spectacles had fallen halfway down his face in the preceding havoc, and now he took a moment to set them back in place, smiling at Peach. “Let me bump caps with some other minds. I’ll get you some more definitive answers, Your Highness.”

She cleared her throat. “And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime… I would recommend abstaining from any and all uses of magic. Err on the side of caution.”

“Oh yeah,” Daisy said, shooting a glare at Peach that made her stomach churn. “Don’t worry, Doc. We’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything so stupid again.”

“Daisy,” Toadette groaned, and Peach felt a comforting hand on her lap, but the damage was already done. She rose to her feet and trained her eyes on the sterile white floors and excused herself, pointedly ignoring the calls of her name as she retreated back to her medical room.

By the time she managed to free herself from swathes of pins and fabric, her tears had already washed a good portion of her makeup away, which at least gave her one less thing to worry about removing.

~~~

Luigi stood the moment he caught sight of Peach in the doorway, removing his cap and ducking his head with a small smile. He didn’t look nearly so pale now, and his eyes seemed fully alert, and that was all good, Peach decided. 

“Has he woken up?” 

“For a little bit. Just a couple minutes.” He stepped aside as she approached, gesturing to the chair he had pulled up to Mario’s bedside, a silent offer for his seat. Peach shook her head and held her right hand palm-out in grateful rejection. “Still pretty out of it, but he’s not hurting as bad,” he continued, pushing the chair aside so she could comfortably stand beside him. “Even got him to have a snack! Just a couple of crackers, but definitely a step in the right direction.”

Peach smiled down at her sleeping hero, and for a moment, everything that weighed heavy upon her was forgotten. Crumbs still lodged in his mustache and fledgling beard backed Luigi’s story up. He had finally been given a proper medical gown, baby blue with a green Mushroom pattern. It looked quite cute on him.

She couldn’t resist stepping forward to rest a palm atop his hand. An IV drip remained taped in place, but the surrounding skin trauma that had just last night overflowed from beneath his bandages was nowhere to be found.

“Did he say anything?” she chanced.

In her peripheral, he nodded. “He asked about you.”

Peach winced without really meaning to. Her momentary cheer dissipated just as easily, and a creeping guilt gnawed a hole into her gut, small but festering. Guilt for leaving his side; guilt that his brother’s attentive care was met only with inquiries regarding her.

“I said you were in the shower and you’d be right back. He seemed happy with that answer. Went right back to sleep afterward, heh...” Even without looking, she could hear the strained smile in his voice. Was he upset? She certainly couldn’t fault him if he was.

She had already monopolized enough of his time with Mario. The least she could do was back off until she was called for again. After all, she knew now that her hero would live. With the uncertainty eliminated, she could happily retreat until she was needed again. Or she could at least suffer through the loneliness in contented silence.

Giving his warm hand one last squeeze, Peach withdrew, turning to apologize and excuse herself—

“He died, didn’t he?”

Peach blinked.

Luigi wouldn’t look at her. His eyes remained fixed on Mario, his smile hollow, distant.

“I…” Suddenly she felt as though her whole mouth was stuffed with cotton. “What?”

“Your—” Luigi began to shake his wrists out, a favored stim of his when words wouldn’t come easily. “Princess, I’ve seen your wish power. I-I’ve seen you do things I didn’t think were possible with it. And if even that wasn’t— I mean, if you had to… I-I’m still not real sure I follow everything, but if you drained your lifeforce somehow…”

With a huff, he finally faced Peach. His brows were furrowed, his eyes were dark, but he didn’t look angry, just hurt. “Was he dead? At some point, was he dead?”

Peach stood uselessly, her mouth opening then shutting just as quickly. She didn’t know. In the time it would have taken her to assess Mario’s condition when he first reached her, he would have died. That was the only thing she was certain of. Had she brought him back from a newly-crossed horizon, or had she only narrowly prevented him from crossing in the first place? She didn’t know.

Her silence still gave Luigi the answer he needed.

Inhaling sharply, he ripped his cap from his head, letting it fall carelessly to the floor, and buried his fingers into his hair. “You…” He tightened his grasp and yanked at his hair, though whether he winced from the pain of that action or the pain within him Peach couldn’t say for sure. “Y-you…!”

She balled her hands into fists and held her breath, willing a surge of fresh tears away. You killed him. You almost took him away. You’re horrible. I hate you. You should have died instead. All warranted, all perfectly fair thoughts, all things she needed yet selfishly couldn’t bear to hear. She would take it with composure, and then she would spend the remainder of her natural days in atonement, whatever good that might do—

“You brought him back to me…!”

Before Peach could process these words, he let go of his hair in favor of lunging at her… and wrapping his arms around her.

Not for the first time that day, Peach went still beneath the force of shock, unable to do anything but draw shallow breaths and stare at the wall ahead of her. This embrace was so much tighter than the one he’d pulled her into yesterday, so much more forceful, and rather than smile and feed her words of cheerful encouragement, he buried his face into her shoulder and cried so hard that his whole body shook and his tears rapidly saturated her nightgown.

You brought him back to me.

Hesitantly, Peach returned his embrace, because she was certain her legs would fail her if she didn’t grab hold of something.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, and though her body still felt too stunned and weak to produce tears, her voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, Luigi—”

“You saved him,” Luigi interrupted, his voice half-absorbed by her gown. “I never really let myself think about it but I kinda just accepted that he wasn’t coming back, y’know? Because he always told me he’d die for you, but— but you could’ve— and you still—”

Peach sniffled, digging in deeper and fighting against the ever-growing desire to crumple to the floor. She wouldn’t have had to save him in the first place if he hadn’t gotten himself killed or near to it rescuing her. The fact that he needed saving in the first place was all her fault.

He’d die for you. This wasn’t news to Peach. It was Mario’s job as her guard to protect her with his life. She had witnessed him hold to that vow with her own eyes. But to hear it spoken so plainly, so openly, now that everything was okay—

“Grazie. Grazie. Grazie di cuore, Principessa…! Grazie…!” Thanks continued to pour from Luigi in his native tongue, each one more heartfelt, more overwhelmed, more agonizing than the last. She had caused his brother so much pain — she had caused them both so much pain, physically, emotionally, psychologically, and he was thanking her? For doing what literally anyone else would have done in her shoes? For doing the bare minimum for someone she claimed to love with her whole heart?

For being so useless that it took the sacrifices of others just to keep her alive?

A few tears finally managed to slip down her cheeks as the barrage of unwarranted gratitude continued, but she fought with what little strength and stamina was left within her to remain silent. She had forced others to shoulder her hardships for long enough. It was high time she returned the favor. And if that meant keeping her mouth shut and suffering in perfect silence, then so be it.

[thunder-sea]

Spoilers for Fontaine Act 5 and previous archon quests!

-

What's really sad about Furina is that she has been seeing what is a god in human terms. She sees them as perfect, unmovable deities rather than beings who do make mistakes, therefore trying to become 'perfect', lovable, and unmoving herself.

She hasn't had the chance to actually meet/get to know the archons like the traveler has, hence why she has such a naive worldview of what is a 'god', while we know them as imperfect (and sometimes silly) beings.

The archons we've got to meet have had little knowledge on how humans work, made mistakes that would affect their own living, have made enough bad decisions to start a civil war, have had their own people doubt and hurt them, have cried, have tried to lay low, have been beaten, have felt heartache, etc etc...

This whole demanding act that Furina put upon herself was sometimes unnecessarily harsh on herself, because archons are more human than she thinks.

[hippolotamus]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday 🪩

tagged by the always lovely and talented @dangerpronebuddie 🔪 @loveyouanyway 💔 @diazsdimples 💖 definitely go read their snips!

Thanks to some prodding from James (and inspo from the tune that goes with this scene) Mirrorball fic has made a return (*chants to self* please stay, please stay, please stay) This scene happens way after anything posted so far. Nonetheless, master list of snippets and lore here. Bon appetit or whatever

Chim taps on the screen, opening Buck’s message and lets out a disbelieving huff. He scrubs at his chin, occasionally flicking his gaze up to Buck then back down to his phone. This goes on for what must be a solid minute before Buck’s curiosity and impatience get the best of him.  “What?”  Chim pockets his phone and looks at Buck, really looks at him. A piercing and disarming stare that makes him squirm, and not in a good way. It’s not often that this side of Chim shows up. The part that’s more like an older brother, loving and caring for Buck even when he probably doesn’t want to. Buck knows he should be more grateful, but right now he really hates it. He wishes Chim would go back to teasingly calling him a dumbass about whatever ridiculous thing he did or said.  “I know you’re not asking me that right now. Like, I’ve always known you weren’t the brightest sometimes, but jeez, Buckaroo, I didn’t think you were this stupid.” Buck resolutely stares at his shoes, at the album covers and other kitschy knick knacks decorating Chim’s small office, at the imaginary dirt under his fingernails. Anywhere but at the man in front of him. “Have you tried talking to him, Buck? Like actually talking to him.” “No need,” Buck sniffs, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. “He made it pretty clear how he feels about things. About us.” He crosses his arms defensively and bites the inside of his cheek. He’s done crying over Eddie. (Okay, he’s not, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let himself do it in front of Chim.) “You don’t think that maybe there’s a chance-” “I don’t have anything to say to him!” He curls his hands into fists, digging the nails into his palm. “And there isn’t a damn thing he could say that I wanna hear from him right now. Or ever.” Nothing except I’m sorry, I was wrong. I fucked up and I didn’t mean it. I love you.  “He made his choice and now I have to deal with that. Because I still have shit to do. If this is how I choose to make sense of it all in my head, Chim, then so be it. So.” His breaths are ragged and shallow, his voice trembling. He swipes away the tears beginning to escape before they can roll down his cheek. “Are you going to do this for me or not?” Chim studies him for a moment and Buck thinks he’s about to get an earful. Except he doesn’t.  “Yeah.” Chim sighs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry Buckaroo. I’ll take care of it.”

The Tunes™️

np tagging @actuallyitsellie, @epicbuddieficrecs, @a-noble-dragon, @tizniz, @mountedeverest,

@fortheloveofbuddie, @weewootruck, @saybiwithme, @bidisasterevankinard, @shipperqueen6,

@ramonaflow, @taketheplanspinitsideways, @spotsandsocks, @theotherbuckley, @stereopticons,

@kitteneddiediaz, @mrs-f-darcy, @daffi-990, @drowsy-quill, @your-catfish-friend,

@thekristen999, @filet-o-feelings, @wikiangela, @underwaterninja13, @lizzie-bennetdarcy,

@rainbow-nerdss, @steadfastsaturnsrings, @queenmabcreates, @inell, @jesuisici33,

@shortsighted-owl, @queerbuckleys, @bi-buckrights, @elvensorceress,

@bucksbiawakening, @giddyupbuck, @hoodie-buck, @indestructibleheart, @ladydorian05,

@lemonzestywrites, @monsterrae1, @statueinthestone, @slightlyobsessedwitheverything, @the-likesofus,

@thewolvesof1998, @watchyourbuck, @wildlife4life anyone else who wants to 😘

[raygirlramblings]

Jumpin’ on another bandwagon time :). This time an idea from Twitter to redraw this iconic frame from the recent Sparks of Hope DLC trailer.

Poor Rayman, he is woefully unprepared to deal with any of this.

I am more than a little hyped for this DLC as you can imagine, and I had a LOT of fun drawing this. It’s so nice to see the animators lean into Rayman’s goofy potential and have him pulling all these expressive faces.

[galaxygermdraws]

so instead of get back into art after the basic recovery of my surgery, I instead replayed Mario and Luigi Partners in Time…and why does nobody talk about this game?? Hardly ever see it in the Super Mario tag. Like. It’s actually insane how dark it gets. People die. Like actually die. Not as dark as SPM but like we see the dead spirits of Toads get siphoned through tubes. They had their life force sucked out of them via genetically modified trees. Yoshis were eaten by a larger alien Yoshi and were gonna be turned into more alien Yoshis via a factory IN THE GIANT ALIEN YOSHI. We see a town that’s literally just “Christmas is Cancelled” the city. Their mayor probably died. We never see these places restored because there are no survivors to restore them. The citizens of Hollijolli village probably all died by the time the bros shut down the Vim factory. And also there’s the entire scene with the Star Gate. Like. Hello??

maybe I’ll stream or let’s play this game and share it here because I think. More ppl should talk about Partners in Time. I’ll say it too: I like it more than Bowser’s Inside Story. By like a LOT. That’s my ramble for the night. Ttyd day tomorrow. Yippee

[skitskatdacat63]

Catie i need to know in the famous interview w ron dennis DID FERNANDO EAT AN APPLE OR A PEACH??????? This is important information and im getting conflicting data. It looks like an apple but in my head its always been a peach

Okay so I don't know how to find that interview itself but I did remember that they showed it in Nando's doc, so here:

The peach thing is a seperate thing. I understand why you'd be inclined to think it's a peach in this interview, bcs the peach thing is so iconic but this is def an apple. I like to think that this is just an extension of the peach thing. Because wasn't it that Ron Dennis hated any messy fruit eating? An apple is also messy honestly, so I like to think Fernando is particularly trying to be a bastard here as well, but a peach is perhaps too obscene to eat in a public interview SJFKVLV

[deathbirby]

What sucks about the fandom is that everybody usually defaults to make post-Crimson Flower fanfictions 'and they all lived happily ever after :)' which... sucks because CF is the most flawed ending out of all of the routes (Duscur is still believed to have killed the King, TWSITD are lurking around as seen in Edel's mural, sovereign nations were forcibly assimilated against their will into Adrestia, etc). All of these issues are ignored to default to a happy ending which is such a let down since all of these issues are SO interesting and genuinely could make really engaging post-CF fanfiction delving into them. That's not even going into how Edel's meritocracy is deeply flawed on further thought as it assumes equal opportunity (despite the nobility and the inter-generational wealth of said nobles), and an equal society where everyone is seen and treated as equals (the people of Duscur who are seen as traitors, Almyrans such as Cyril who were enslaved and forced to work, Nabataens and Edel's blatant racism towards them, etc). Let me make this clear; a meritocracy is better than feudalism or a monarchy outright. The issue isn't inherently with meritocracies, nor is it to dissuade changing the current system of Fodlan. The problems I have with Edel's meritocracy is the total lack of foresight and the refusal to engage with Edel's actions that brought in the system. Meritocracies can work but considering the broader context and political landscape of Fodlan: Edel's meritocracy was a system founded after violently conquering two sovereign nations against the leaders and the civilians wills. Many of these civilians do harbour resentment towards the government (as seen in Hubert/Shamir's ending where they act as secret cops 🤢), how Edelgard only really gives resources to people she knows aka nepotism (especially to Caspar and Bernie who are woefully not well suited for the roles the get). There's also the ugly turd by removing the corrupt nobles who kept her in check, there are no safeguards against Edelgard or future successors abusing their power (which Edel's use of her power is pretty questionable seen in Hubert/Dorothea gathering intelligence for the empire and Hubert/Shamir with being cops). ======== (1/2)

2/2 ==== I wanna bring up how Petra was treated; poor girl was kidnapped from her home, tossed into a hostile foreign land where she didn't speak the language and received no support at all from her peers. Going so far as Hubert calling her an animal (we love microaggresions if not outright aggresions to poc). Edelgard assumes her and Petra to be equals, that Petra is completely fine but Edel is oblivious or callous towards the gross power imbalance between the two. Petra is constantly trying to appease society by learning the local tongue, constantly trying to appease Edelgard and prove her own independence to ensure Brigid doesn't appear weak. Edel does show concern, I'll give her that, but she really doesn't do anything to truly help Petra. Iirc, Petra had to learn the entire language by herself without ANY help from anyone, not even Edel nor Hubert stepped in (tho Hubert can gawk at Petra like shes an animal). How is it unfair to assume that if Edel can't even address blatant inequality and oppression towards Petra, something that was in her face, how can she ensure that her meritocracy won't perpetuate further inequality and oppression on a wider scale? I really wish the fandom weren't so scared nor so adverse to exploring these issues in a post-CF fan fiction and really take a deep dive into Edelgard's rule outside of 'Fodlan was super corrupt, Rhea is the absolute fucking worst and Dimitri was just a Rhea Stan, Claude was aaaaalmost cool but he didn't want to work with Edelgard which sucks because they would SO be besties (even tho Claude experienced violent racism and would not tolerate Edel's pasty ass spewing vitriol how Nabataens are inhuman beasts) but its soooooo sad he didn't see Edelgard's goals, BTW CRESTS ARE THE FUCKING WORST :3'. Like, the only thing I have ever read to addressing the flaws Edelgard's rule was To Those Who Are Never Going Home by MadameHyde (but stiiiill doesn't hit the spot for me since its more focused on Garreg Mach than the wider society of Fodlan on itself). I believe in women's wrongs and Edelgard did SO MUCH shit wrong, let👏Edelgard👏be👏pointed👏out👏in👏the👏wrong👏. It sucks that nobody wants to engage or even play with that side of Edelgard, so I'm now stuck developing my own post-CF fanfiction/AU exploring an Adrestian-Garreg Mach and the world of Fodlan moulded by Edelgard's rule lmfao. I really want to explore a politically unstable and balkanized Fodlan, and it's so sad that nobody else sees the vision 😔 Thanks for reading my entire infodump about Edelgard and sitting through this entire essay lmfao. — 🍑 Anon

Oh dear goddess have mercy on me

CF's ending makes no sense when you realize that TWSITD can just nuke Fhirdiad right then and there and win. Thales can also just... brainwash Edelgard and turn her into a puppet according to hopes. It's the least logical ending.

Edelgard's system ultimately would only benefit the strong. The 'weak' (sick, elderly, poor, disabled, etc.) just have to pull themselves up by their bootstraps according to our emperor, but we all know how well that will work.

And yep, the nepotism runs strong with her. Caspar and Bernadetta are NOT fit to rule. We know from one of the endings that Caspar acts recklessly and dangerous on military campaigns but people just ignore it. That is a very bad look for Edelgard who just tolerates it.

Petra's whole situation deserves her own post tbh. She's a political hostage who gets treated like dirt. Edelgard couldn't even help her learn the language despite the fact that she has all of the resources to do so.

let👏Edelgard👏be👏pointed👏out👏in👏the👏wrong👏

write this on my gravestone lol

[goldensunset]

ayyyyy it's the art year in review post with my best work from each month

[sweetie-peaches]

I feel like in his current arc BadBoyHalo should be studied for science. This poor guy, what is happening to him.

[hcdragonwrites]

Cozy (a @jttw-monkeybusiness Drabble )

So I made another one- this one was inspired by this ask (I suck at Hyperlinks I’m so sorry)

It rolled a bit in my brain and kept begging to be fleshed out, so I decided to give it life ! Enjoy!

Snow

Snow fell in white flurries, chasing away the blossoms and birds that had been sitting in the trees just moments before. The storm was in a full frenzy now, peeling petals from overeager trees who had budded too soon, and throwing the birds from the sky. The wind whipped up the cold powder to spray back in the face of the pilgrims as they continued on their journey. They had left the warm subtropical forest only hours ago, where Sophie had rolled her sleeves up to relieve some of the excess heat. Now however, she was shivering.

None of the group, save for Wukong, was truly equipped for the snow and cold. Pigsys ears were turning purple from the temperature as he tried, and failed, to hide from the worst of it behind Sandy. Sandy silently continued on, carving a path for Sophie (who trailed farther behind) to walk through. The snow was already deep, coming to her knees as they continued to follow the tiny path up the mountain. Black rock jutted upward and outward like broken teeth into the white air. Horse and Monk both were struggling ahead, Yulongs sides shivering in the wet as the snow melted on his fur. Tripitaka called Wukong over, asking him to scout ahead to look for a place they could shelter for the duration of this storm. Sophie could see there heads bent together as Master and pupil discussed. Wukong, for once, didn’t reply with a snort or a quick jab at how Trip should be lucky for him to be his disciple. Instead he had somersaulted off, gone in a flash of fur and tiger stripes, into the air.

“Would be nice if I could just somersault out of here.” Sophie muttered.

A freak blizzard had not been on the list of things Sophie was ready for. She had faced shape-changing demons, women that turned to great tigers to devour Tripitaka, mountain gods throwing stones down into their path and the like. Sophie was prepared for any person or creature - or at least- expecting it. The weather however? She was severely underprepared for. She had the travel clothes she had bought with the coin purse she’d been given. They were meant for light rain and mild heat. Not for a snowstorm. Sophies hair was getting wet and the cold was starting to chill her ears from where it melted.

“It’s so cold…” she muttered. She kept following Sandys footpath, thankful for the giant of a river demon and his slow shuffling walk. If he was walking normally he would have left her far behind in the snow.

Her foot hit a rock and slipped, sending her flailing into a rapidly growing snowbank. “F-f-f-freezing! AH!” Snow had gone down her shirt, sending a chill up her spine. Faster than a wildcat she had hopped from the bank, shaking herself.

“Hate snow hate snow hate snow—“ she chanted her mantra as she slapped off the powder, trying to prevent it from melting and wetting her clothes. Wet clothes would only spell disaster. Sophie could recall all the cold born illnesses from one special National Geographic did on Everest and the extreme exposure the hikers faced there: pneumonia, Trench foot, frostbite, hypothermia, flu, Chilblains, bronchitis —

Her foot slipped again as her mind was listing all the things that could happen. Sophie would have been in the snowbank a second time except something caught her by the midriff and hauled her up.

“Stupid women stay on your feet!” Wukong snarled in her ear, setting her down. Sophie nodded, teeth chattering and nose turning red as the cold began to chap it. “Of all the people here I thought at least you had the common sense to be aware of ice!”

From up ahead came the faint cry and heavy fall as Pigsys fell face first in the snow. Sandy had to quickly turn to hid a chuckle as the drenched demon began wilding swinging his rake around in rage.

“S-s-sorry.” She mumbled, shoving her hands beneath her armpits. “Slipped.”

“What’s wrong with your speech? You sound like a squirrel.” Wukong cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. He rolled his eyes when Sophie didn’t banter back irritated she wasn’t snapping back at him. That agitation grew when he felt something like worry begin to itch his pelt. Of the pilgrims, the two mortals were in his charge of care and were the most delicate. While Wukong could fight off monsters and Demons and wicked minded mortals he could not fight a storm. Well- he could if he really wanted to find the celestial body responsible for its creation. But that would take time- and time was not on his side on this.

Tripitaka had put on a brave face when he had asked the Monkey King to find shelter. That didn’t mean Wukong had not noticed how his Masters hands had turned red at the growing cold, how his body shivered and his nose sniffed. Wukong would have teased, poked and prodded at his master- it was his nature to rile and cause mischief. But when he had seen the half awake expression on the mortal man’s face, Wukong had bit his tongue (with great effort) and had instead nodded.

Seeing Sophie in a similar state made the itch beneath his pelt grow worse as fire ants had begun to bite his skin.

“Damn it.” He cursed beneath his breath. He snatched her arm, avoiding her hand, and started dragging her behind him. “Come on just a bit farther you softie. I found a cave up ahead where we can get out of the worst of it. You mortals are ABSOLUTELY worthless when it comes to weather —“

Sophie was only half listening to Wukongs ranting. She allowed herself to be dragged up the mountain pass, trusting the Monkey King to find a better route than her own dimming senses. The cold was like a blanket she wanted to escape out of. Or escape into? She couldn’t remember clearly. If she closed her eyes… she was so tired. The snow looked inviting, comforting. Like the best downy comforter. Like the fluffiest pillow.

Maybe I just … need to lay … down in the comfort. Just close my eyes for a few minutes.

They had been walking for hours before the storm blew in. Her feet hurt, her hands shook and it was so cold. Cold. She just wanted to sleep.

“SOPHIE LOOK AT ME!” Wukong yanked her and she was rattled enough to open her eyes wider in surprise. Sun Wukong was right in her face, leaning so close she could see every line of his facial markings in detail. His breath came from between his teeth like some dragons as he glared.

“Ye-es?!”

“Stay awake- we're almost there. If you fall asleep while I’m dragging your ass up the mountain I will bite your pretty nose clean off!” The demonic monkey spat, then, half carried, half dragged Sophie the rest of the way. Leaning against his back Sophie sighed. Through the clothing she could feel it- like desert sand warmed by the sun. Delicious heat. Sophie - who wouldn’t in normal circumstances have cuddled so close- practically melted against the warmth. What else could she do? Wukong was dragging her up the mountain- practically carrying her. She could see the bend in the mountain pass- a steep cliff where the road cut itself around and hugged the mountain as a snake would do climbing along a vine. Almost there.

“How come you get to be so warm?” She grumbled, not realizing she had said it aloud. Wukong had heard however, and his face became a storm cloud as his heart took a shuddering beat.

“Maybe grow some fur or ask for the Buddha to make you some furry creature. Bet he would too.” Wukong grumbled back.

Stupid fucking women.

They reached the curve in the mountain where Pigsy and Sandy- mostly Sandy since the pig demon kept complaining about how cold his snout was- were setting up three tents. The tents were simple, the leather treated against wet weather and solid. All pigsy had to do was drive the stakes into the stone which, it seemed, he was failing at.

“It’s so damn cold!” Pigsy snorted angrily stamping his hands together, having missed the spike for the third time. “Blasted Heaven and whoever ordered a storm now of all times! Don’t they know who’s crossing these mountains?”

“Less talking more working.” Sandy angrily chided. He had finished setting up the second tent all on his own. When Pigsy went to open his mouth to make another comment and the usually peaceful Sandy shoved him across the shallow cave to the last tent and the one closest to the entrance.

As Wukong walked past, Pigsy lifted an eyebrow at the strange sight. The Monkey King could see the pig beginning to lift a lip in a smirk only to stop when he noticed Sophie’s shivering.

“What did you do?” Those were the last words Wukong expected to come out of his fellow brothers mouth.

“WHAT DID I DO?!” He bared his teeth, fangs on display. He didn’t have time for Pigsy or for his own feelings to confuse him. He knew Sophie was practically clinging to his back like the newborn monkeys did to their mothers back on Flower Fruit Mountain. He was very aware of it. The last thing he needed was for this thick pink idiot to start shit with him.

“I DIDNT DO SHIT YOU THICK HEADED BOAR.” He spat, continuing past. “THIS IDIOT STARTED FALLING ASLEEP IN THE FUCKING STORM. NOW SHUT UP AND GET THE OTHER TENT SET UP.”

Wukong left Pigsy behind, angrily chattering to himself and feeling embarrassed all the while. He couldn’t let that thick womanizing boar know any of Wukongs feelings. If he did, the damn brute would only press his nose to it and route deeper. The sooner he got Sophie off his back the better. Even though he didn’t entirely want that.

He reached the back corner of the cave, setting Sophie down. She huffed, letting go with some reluctance to his warm back. The Monkey King knelt, leaning in. Sophie’s shivering was less. Good.

“I’ll be back- I have to make sure the pink ham doesn’t fuck up the last tent. Once I’ve tended Yulong and seen to my masters comforts I’ll be back to check on you.”

Sophie pulled her knees to her chest. She was still so cold. She wanted nothing more then to curl up and sleep- to find something warm and hold onto it. She heard Wukong from far off - but she nodded.

“S-S-sure… just gonna fall .. asleep.”

“Don’t fall asleep you idiot.” He snapped.

“Why not?” Sophie groaned. She was tired

“Remember. You are in wet clothes. Wake up just to remember - Think. Use that reading brain of yours.” He flicked her between the eyes. That woke Sophie up enough as the pain cleared her head.

“Ow, what the hell Wukong?!” Sophie felt like she had come out of a daze. Her fingers started rubbing at the pain. It wasn’t terrible but … she felt like a child be scolded. Sophie glared up into the smug monkey face.

“Awake? Good. Now fucking listen before you nod off again.” Wukong smirked just a bit. The itching beneath his fur had eased just enough upon seeing her get mad. He spoke slowly, for her sake but also to press in how much he enjoyed giving her orders- and being right about them. “Your clothes are wet. You can’t sleep in them. Change to new ones. In fact, bundle up as much as you can. I’ll be back to check on you.”

Wukong stood up, then turned back around to flick her on the forehead again.

“Ow! I’m up, I'm up!” Sophie rubbed at the space between her brows.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes yes …” she uncurled herself and stood as well, looking down at the Monkey King. “Get out of wet clothes and get new ones. Bundle up. That really hurt you know.”

“If you are still in wet fucking clothes, I’ll do a lot worse then just smack you between the eyes.” And then he was away, already cussing Pigsy out who had, somehow, managed to rip the tent.

It was a only about twenty minutes later but Sophie had managed not to fall asleep. She had gotten into the tent and had peeled the worst of the wet clothes off. Her poor shoes were the worst for wear- the socks and the soles were soaked. She would have to wear her spare shoes tomorrow and let these ones dry. Sophie had set the wet clothes to the farthest side of the tent. She was now dressed in a pair of gray sweats, a long sleeve and her hoodie of bright orange with clementines decorating the front. She felt much warmer and absolutely exhausted. Her fingers were red where the cold had gotten them, her lips felt chapped from the dry air, and her body just kept shivering.

Sophie had retreated almost completely into the hoodie- only her face was viewable.

The tent flap lifted and Wukong stepped in, a bowl of some sort of wild berries and cold rice in one hand. He took one look at her huddled there on her sleeping mat and snorted.

“You look like some orange orangutan.”

“Hahah very funny. See how you like the cold when you don’t have fur.” She shot back. Wukong offered the bowl to her and she took it, digging into it with gusto.

“How’s Trip?” She asked between bites.

“Alive.” Wukong leaned back, putting his arms beneath his head as he stared up at the tent ceiling. “You two would have frozen if not for me- you were both starting to look pinker than yangmei fruit.”

“Thank you.” Sophie said.

“Mm? What are you thankful for ?”

Oh he was gonna ask her for all of it then? Sophie looked at him. Wukong had propped himself up enough to stare at her, waiting.

“Thank you for the food.” She lifted the now empty bowl- she had been famished - to him. “Thank you for finding a spot to rest. And … thanks for dragging me out of the snow.”

“You almost died I hope you know that.” He smirked, laying back down, eyes closing. She followed suit, too tired to sit up anymore or even bicker back with him.

“Yeah I did …” Sophie yawned. Usually she wouldn’t admit so readily to Wukong just how certain situations had made her dependent upon him. He was always, in some way or other, saving the lot of them. When Tripitaka was snatched up by some Goblins belonging to some chieftain of a nearby mountain, when Pigsy had boasted that they didn’t need Wukong and then (almost immediately) failed to find food when Wukong was sent away. He had stopped the dragon horse from foundering and taken to the care of his hooves and coat many a time. The Monkey King had seen to restoring the missing supplies from Sophie pack when a group of mischievous raccoon spirits had taken it. Wukong had even replaced Sandy’s teakettle when it was smashed in battle (Sophie was pretty sure he had stolen it).

He may act aloof and pompous but deep down, this big old brute cared for them. Even Pigsy.

Sophie felt her eyes grow heavy as Wukong kept talking about how she had stumbled in the snow like some “dumb struck fawn” until he came to help her.

As she relaxed to the sound of his voice rumbling on and on, it almost felt … cozy. Yes Wukong may like to slide the occasional wriggly salamander into her water skin, he may thumb through her things like they were his, he may call her idiot, stupid women, and softie. But. There was no real malice behind his actions.

He was also kind of … warm. She scooted closer, half listening to the Monkey ramble on about the idiocy of mortals and the greatness of beings such as him. He was rambling on about his natural prowess over mortals and how he had mastered the arts of immortality and Tripitaka couldn’t even master warding off a cold. Sophie fell asleep before he could get to the part about her looking like a slack jawed idiot in the snow.

Wukong was only a quarter way through his regaling of the story of how he had saved everyone this day when he felt hands wrap around his chest.

His heart nearly flew into his throat as he stopped dead in his speech. His mouth was open, voice cut off halfway through his speech. Sophie curled into his side, face buried in the crook of his neck and so close to his ear he could feel her breathing against its shell.

Electricity shot threw him, fur standing on end as if he had been in a thunderstorm.

He was suddenly very aware of many things. Of Sophie’s hands that had escaped that ridiculous orange sweatshirt and were now burrowed into his fur. One arm was across his chest. The second one was now, somehow beneath his head and tugging on his shoulder. Sophie’s face rested on his arm and in the curve of his neck, her face rubbing back and forth like a cat. As if … she was enjoying the feel of it.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Sophie moved just a bit, mumbling in his ear and Wukong felt his tail lash like it had just been bit. She didn’t say anything coherent but — the proximity alone—

Fucking Hell and all its Judges.

Sophie was … cuddling him.

She was practically twined around him.

And she smelled fantastic. Her scent always changed- sometimes it held a hint of lemons and the sweetness of grass, other times it floated like rain clouds and smelled of stones. But all of it together had a larger perfume beneath it. It was just her. Yes there were moments when her scent changed just enough that he felt like he was adding new spices onto his favorite dish. The essence of it, however, was just Sophie.

And now that cloud was all around him, filling his nose.

He looked at her, turning his head just a fraction to see.

Big mistake.

She was asleep, passed out completely. She looked so … fragile asleep. The dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of how she hadn’t been sleeping well. Her nose was stupidly pink like a Red Pika in her pale face. The cold must have chapped it. His eyes darted to her lips …

Mistake number two.

Wukong looked away, feeling his face flame. Fuck. Shit. He was stuck in a predicament now. He hadn’t meant to chat away about himself for so long that Sophie would fall asleep. Wukong was at war with himself. On one hand, he needed to get out of here. To leave before Pigsy and the others found out- before Sophie found out.

He couldn’t let anyone be that close to him- couldn’t let anyone be as close as Sophie was right now. It was a liability to his pride, to his reputation—

To his heart. Because if she rejected him it would ruin the friendship they had. And the feeling he had building in his chest- he would crush it in his fist before he let it jeopardize that peace between them.

I have to leave —

Wukong tried to move-

Only to feel Sophie’s fingers tug in his fur and her sleepy voice grumble “m’no don’t go.”

Jade Emperor flay me and boil me alive again.

In all the hundreds of years of living, Wukong had only felt trapped like this but once before. The first time he had lost his wager to the Buddha, having been unable to somersault out of his hand. The second time? He was trapped because he allowed it. He was trapped in a way no one in Heaven could have predicted- or had thought to do. Wukong had been placed in vats to be boiled, had wormed and tricked his way out of every trap and net that had attempted to keep his mischief managed. It had taken Buddha and his wager to finally end Wukongs terrorization of Heaven.

Wukong couldn’t move now. He was tethered here by frail fingers and the steady beat of a mortal's heart.

He could hear her heartbeat, feel it against his side. It was steady, soft. Like the steady roar of Water-Curtain Cave. Like the wind through the trees of the orchards on his mountain.

She was mortal. One day that steady beat would stop as all mortal hearts did.

That set his tail to lashing just a bit.

Hasn't she been afraid of dying? Of growing old? He remembered hearing a conversation late at night- when Tripataka and Sophie had those rare mortal conversations where he was explicitly not allowed to sit in on. He hadn’t known why it was such a secret conversation. So of course, since it wasn’t an order, Wukong had pulled a hair from his tail and made a doppel and floated somewhere nearby but out of sight to eavesdrop. The Monk and Reader had been chatting about death, about Sophie’s future.

Well her fears were unfounded. Doesn’t she know I would take care of her? Sophie shifted a bit closer as a gust of wind slipped beneath the tent flat he had left unsecured. Damn it all. Wukong carefully, o so carefully, shifted himself. He slid his body so he was now lying on his side, setting Sophie’s head beneath his chin. It was all the invitation Sophie needed to cuddle closer and escape from the wind.

“You stupid women.” He angrily whispered into her hair. He wouldn’t let her die. He would just fix that. He would fix a lot of her problems. She just had to tell him. He was Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He knew of a hundred different ways to achieve immortality. He could fix them all. Like her problem right now of being cold.

He was too tense to relax fully- too aware- but he grew just a fraction larger. His size now dwarfed Sophie’s a good bit and gave her a bit more to tangle into. And she did. Sophie curled her knees up, shivering slowing. Wukong waited. Watching. When finally the shivering had ceased he allowed just a fraction of tension to slide off of him. This stupid softie is gonna make me soft. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it would have months ago.

Maybe he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight but…

He could make her life Hell in the morning. It was something that she owed him on. His face was screwed furiously into a scowl because all he wanted to do was enjoy this moment but if he did- if he really truly did- he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

She was most assuredly going to be bombarded tomorrow with the most annoying and snappish teasing and toying a King of Monkeys and tricks could give.

Sophie woke with a start as something cold and wet slapped her in the face. She panicked as any person would.

“GaH! DEMON!” She cried, grabbing at her face and throwing it aside. It was a wet rag.

“Relax.” Wukongs voice laughed at her. “Unless cloth can become possessed and has gained a hunger for red nosed mortal flesh, you're fine.”

He was at the tent flap, grinning ear to ear in a grin that promised problems. Really so early in the morning and he already wants to play games ?

“You could have woken me up in a number of other ways- why did you pick that?” Sophie rubbed at her face, feeling … huh. She didn’t feel as sore as she usually felt. When Sophie woke up there was almost a constant crick of pain in her neck from whatever odd angle she had slept in on the ground.

Maybe I had been so tired my body just finally didn’t care.

He shrugged. “You stink. Next place we stop at you better demand a bath of some sort or other.”

“Thanks….” She grumbled, letting the sarcasm drip off her words. She took the cloth up, rubbing the sleep out of her face and the worst of the dirt off her face and arms. She would kill for a warm bath, one that would wake up her bones and chase the last of the cold from her body. Once clean, she checked her wet clothes, bundling them away in a separate part of her pack to avoid them dampening the rest of her stuff. Then she stepped out of the tent, smelling the fire and the promise of breakfast being made.

Only for her feet to slip right from beneath her as a monkey foot stuck out and caught her ankle.

“WUKONG!”

He laughed, face full of malicious mischief as Sophie gathered herself up to chase after the errant Monkey. To do what, she didn’t know. He was a mystical demonic creature born of stone and she just a mortal women. As the morning light cut into the cave and Tripitaka had to order his disciple to calm down after he once again tripped her and she almost went sprawling into rocks, the pilgrims ate breakfast. They broke down their tents. And they were once again on the road.

None were the wiser of Wukongs happier mood. He hid it beneath a storm of frowns and a game of teasing torture as he became partically insufferable to Sophie. The threat of the hoop tightening spell was the only true damper to his mood when Tripataka heard Sophie scream as snow was dropped down the back of her shirt.

As the sun rose higher and the word was cast in a frosty flash of refracted gold, Wukong made a decision. He would solve Sophie problem of growing old. It was easy. And if Buddha couldn’t send her back…

Well she was a great sport for pestering and heckling. The least he could do as a benevolent King is give the poor women a roof over her head.

Maybe a few dresses down the line...

Girls liked dresses right?

“Hey Reader!” He called.

“What?”

“Dresses or suits ? What did you wear in that fake time long after this one ? Or whatever fake dimension you fell out of. What did you prefer ?”

And thus began the long hour debate that somehow pulled every one of them: Pigsy, Sandy and Tripitaka, into what was a heated discussion on the best attire for the best occasions.

[mejomonster]

I dyed and cut my hair babyyyyy 💙💙💙