#tang is very much a Fail Uncle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imminent-danger-came · 1 year

Note

Anon chilling on the precipice of madness again, and I’m so glad you liked that last ask! Truly, there is much joy to be found in discussing how much we enjoy (*cough* are dealt immense emotional damage on a daily basis by *cough*) the monkey show. Also, since I apparently can’t stop bugging you, for clarity’s sake I’m going to call myself Unhinged Anon if I submit any future asks lol.

As always you make excellent points, and I am very normal about you bringing up the ‘MK smiling at his reflection’ thing because the motif of reflections in this show (see also: S2E5, S3E4, some others I’m probably missing, and especially S4E1) doesn’t make me even the tiniest bit insane. Nope! Not at all. But this time, it’s actually something you said in the tags that launched my marbles into the stratosphere for me to never find, because now I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want, like… a Sandy spinoff series or something.

And I don’t mean a lore-heavy, epic adventure rich in heavy themes and conflicts like we have in the main series, just with Sandy at the center instead of MK. I want Sandy's series to be almost exclusively season one-style laid back episodes. But the good kind of laid back episodes, you know? Stuff like S1E6&7, that a lot of people dismiss, especially on a first watch, as nothing more than filler but actually serve as a subtle expansion/exploration of characters (“I also summoned monster trees with my stress, so. Should I see a doctor? We’ll worry about that later” still haunts me) and dynamics hidden under the guise of a silly little adventure with funny jokes, great animation, and fairly low stakes.

I want to see what an appointment with Sandy’s therapist looks like, or even just the shenanigans he gets up to during those episodes where he’s mysteriously absent and only Tang seems to notice.

I want to see Sandy teach Tang how to make tea, and maybe nerd out about those theories Sandy mentioned having about the gang's whole deal with the OG Companions.

I want to see Sandy’s endless teddy bear energy clash with Red-wants to seem intimidating but will also grab his new friends warm milk if they ask-Son.

I want to see Wukong forced to have an extended conversation with Sandy, or really anyone from the team that isn’t MK or actively yelling at him, and getting to really see how they work off of each other.

I want to see the secret ‘how do we help our clearly not okay friend?’ talks Mei and Sandy have behind MK’s back whenever he starts acting weird, and all the gossip that goes on during the yoga sessions they start doing together after Mei gets the Samadhi fire.

I want to see Sandy talking with the little girl that LBD possessed, especially since something kind of similar happened to him during season 4, and accidentally becoming her new (and favorite) giant blue uncle.

I want an episode of MK and Sandy hanging out. Just chilling on the boat, playing with Mo, going for a little walk around town until BOOM! Sandy brings MK to his unsuspecting therapist, who’s about to get the most interesting case of their career. And maybe, if we’re allowed a little angst, a discussion about how scary it is to be born with a lot of power that not only can, but will, hurt a lot of people if it isn't carefully controlled. About how they’ve tried, and failed, to avoid causing pain. About wanting to never cause pain, and how the futility of that sentiment almost outweighs the importance of trying anyways.

And above all, I DEMAND a Pigsy-Sandy origin story!

Anyways, this is basically just me edging ever closer to the brink of madness after you accidently inflicted No Thoughts, Only Sandy syndrome upon me with your last response. But, it's also an invitation to gush about Sandy some more, if you want, and also share anything you would want to see in a hypothetical Sandy show!

Unhinged Anon I got you, here's a motif post where I have every MK reflection in the whole show.

AND “I also summoned monster trees with my stress, so. Should I see a doctor? We’ll worry about that later” HAUNTS ME TOO. There's something about the way those shots are set up, cracking from blue to gold:

MK also becoming a "master of focus" in this ep, with focus becoming important later in episodes like 1x09 and 3x11/12 with Mei.

BUT ANON.

Imma use this ask as a spring board for one of my fav personal theories, which is this: OG Sandy, from the original jttw pilgrimage, is also our current day Sandy!

I'll probably throw this into an official theory post later, but for now I'll go into this theory underneath the cut:

First, let's start with 2x08 To Catch a Leaf, during which Sandy has several PTSD flashbacks:

So, the first one is some sort of battlefield, and the second one...

Is of Zhu Bajie?

Now, we know Pigsy has never worn an outfit like this based off of this comment in 4x05:

Pigsy: "Blue ain't really my color, but it beats looking like that monster, Zhu Ganglie."

The Pig Demon in that flashback from 2x08 HAS to be Zhu Bajie of the original jttw pilgrimage. But why would Sandy have a memory like that?

Next is the fact that while everyone else in 4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids is compared to their past life, Sandy notably isn't.

Tang knows friendship, but unlike Tang Sanzang isn't studious.

Mei is bold and brave, but lacks Ao Lie's caution.

Pigsy like Zhu Bajie is stubborn, but he has the heart his predecessor originally lacked.

Yet this is all Subodhi has to say to Sandy:

Subdohi: "You have nothing more to learn my hilariously blue student! Another star for you!" Sandy: "Dooww thank you wise master!" Subodhi: "But! You're far too nice for your own good." Sandy: "Uh huh, you noticed!"

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

It's exceedingly strange that in an episode where Subodhi breaks down everyone's character arcs, Sandy is told he's all good. He has nothing more to learn, and no more character development to go through.

Unless of course...Subodhi quite simply couldn't compare Sandy to his past life because there was no past life to compare him to.

Another detail in s4 that's always intrigued me is how Sandy is brought back to himself from Sha Wujing in 4x06.

Pigsy's heartfelt speech on the legacy of their past lives not defining their current one, or how they're not monsters, doesn't work. It's instead Mo offering Sandy wholehearted love that brings Sandy back:

Which, of course Sandy has a close bond with Mo, but Pigsy's speech wasn't anything to scoff at either:

Pigsy: "No. No! Just cause we look a certain way, cause our monster ancestors were, well, monsters, none of that matters! I won't let his legacy define mine, and neither should you! Your the strongest, the biggest, the bluest guy I know! But all you've ever used those muscles for is to help people in need—your friends. That don't sound like a monster to me." (4x06 Show Me the Monster)

As far as we know, that should have been the exact thing Sandy needed to be freed from his past life, and yet it wasn't.

That would be because, at least under the confines of this theory, the guy Pigsy is saying Sandy wasn't like was indeed who Sandy used to be. Yes, Sandy has far outgrown the person who fought to establish his own place in the world, learning that "hurting others isn't a measure of one's strength". But here's the thing, who you used to be matters. Unlike Pigsy's relationship with Zhu Bajie, Sandy's relationship with who he was in the past can't as easily be written off. It's still a part of him.

There are also certain other details. like the fact that Sandy knows his way to Flower Fruit Mountain in "A Hero is Born", or how he's so knowledgeable on ancient powerful remedies like the crimson jimson weed. Of course these details could be chalked up to plot convenience—which is by no means a flaw or complaint—but I've always wondered if there was anything more to it.

But, Sandy's more laid back reaction to most things has always intrigued me, and it would re-contextualize certain scenes like this one from 2x10 in a fun way:

Pigsy: "No! What could have been so important that you'd leave MK alone to face that- that thing! You're supposed to be his mentor-"

Sandy: "ENOUGH!" "I think we should give Mr. Monkey King, a chance to explain."

(2x10 This is the End!)

Of course with this theory comes a few questions, like why Sandy didn't meet the same fate as the other pilgrims, or why he wouldn't let Sun Wukong know he was alive, or why he would bother to pretend he wasn't the OG Sha Wujing at all. And honestly? I don't have an answer to these questions!

But what I do know is that Sandy's friends are greatly important to him-

Sandy: "Hurting others isn't a measure of one's strength—took me a really long time to realize that. As long as I'm doing something to help out a friend, I don't mind what it is! I just want to be there for 'em when they need me. Cause at the end of the day, helping my friends is more important than anything else in the world!" (2x08 To Catch a Leaf)

-and losing them would affect him greatly.

Whatever happened to the og jttw crew, that could very easily be the reason Sandy was "the most dangerous, deadly, rage filled warrior [Pigsy] ever [knew]". Based off of that 2x08 Zhu Bajie flashback, Sandy could very well have watched his friend die.

But, now that Sandy has his friends back in his life? Of course he's going to do whatever he can for them!

Which would include anything from making tea to breaking his vow to never fight again.

And please for the love of god give us a Pigsy - Sandy origin story. I'm begging. WHAT IS THEIR HISTORY MAN. WHY DID PIGSY KNOW HOW TO COMMIT A JAILBREAK.

#that slice of life sandy show sounds so comfy #I would love to learn about the sanctity of quiet moments and daily life with my favorite blue thing!#Also MK get's therapy pog #anyways *plays Sandy's ''anything for pigsy'' in my mind over and over again*#So if the stars aligned and BOTH og Sandy is current Sandy and eamk were true #Which is unlikely. BUT PRETENDING FOR A MOMENT IT COULD HAPPEN #The dream would be for Sandy to share what he learned with MK.#Like. How he got from ''I am a monster! That's what the world wants me to be—so that's what I'm gonna give 'em!'' to #''Hurting others isn't a measure of one's strength'' and just wanting to have some tea with his friends #Either way clearly Sandy has some expertise on the subject of being a chaotic destructive force. HE CAN HELP MK OKAY #HE HAS GUIDANCE AND WISDOM TO SHARE #SANDY MK TRAINING ARC WHEN #I need Sandy to meditate with MK at least once alright #Which may never happen and that's okay. But I can dream!#asks #lmk theory #lmk #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lmk sandy #Still chasing the high of 2x03 where Sandy and MK made tea together #unhinged anon

33 notes · View notes

azalearedmoon · 2 years

Text

How Mk inherited the staff

Ok, I've been thinking about this a lot to work out how this fits the plot I've basically rewritten due to hyper fixation, and I think I've got it. For context Sand and Pigsy are the same from the jttw, and Mk absolutely grew up knowing his fun uncle sandy because I refuse to believe pigsy doesn't check up on him regularly. So Mk is taken in by Pigsy after stumbling into the noodle shop hurt and disoriented. Tang helps pigsy fix him up and the try to figure out how to find his family when the kid has no memories. They only thing they find is there seems to be no record of the kid anywhere, and so they make the decision to take him in considering he's already attached to them and it was better than just letting him float around in the system.

So Pigsy names him Mk and he lives a relatively normal life. He had a few health scares what with all that magic being suppressed and the headaches whenever his memories try and fail to break through the surface, but they happened less and less the older he got. Same as canon, Mk becomes pigsys delivery driver. I feel like I should note that I picture Pigsy as more of the stern uncle type than a father figure so that's how I'm portraying him in this au. On one particular day Wukong is flying over the city in his bird form when he spots Mk. For the briefest moment upon seeing him Wukong swears he looked just like Xiaotian (hint hint nudge nudge that's yoUR SON-) and is so shocked that he doesn't pay attention to where he's flying and smacks straight into a telephone pole. Said pole then spontaneously toppled, onlookers are very confused.

So Wukong hightailed it back to ffm to tell Macaque because he's basically panicking internally. Macaque does his best to calm him down when they both hear something. Wukong immediately recognizes the sound and pulls his staff out of his ear (dbk was never sealed so he still has it) and sure enough he was right, there was a ringing sound coming from the staff, the same one he heard when he got it from the dragon palace. Surely it couldn't be a coincidence, the staff starts singing as soon as he sees a random mortal who he thought was his long lost son? Surely it must be reincarnation! (Because logic)

So of course he starts following him. The more he watches Mk the more he sees the similarities, he reminds wukong so much of Xiaotian that it hurts. Macaque followed him for a while and felt the same. And whenever Wukong would bring the staff out he would see Mk turn his head towards it when it sang. By all accounts the staff had chosen a new master. Wukong and Macaque discuss this and agree that it's best to let Mk decide for himself. They just needed to figure out how to tell him.

That's all I have for this post, I didn't expect it to get so long. Anyways I hope you like it. Please leave a comment below or go to the ask box, feedback really helps. See you next time

#lmk au #lmk monkey king #lmk mk #lmk six eared macaque #lmk wukong #lost prince au #lego monkie kid #shadowpeach #lmk xiaotian #lmk sun wukong #jttw pigsy #jttw sandy #lmk tang #lmk dbk

66 notes · View notes

aglaean · 6 months

Note

It's a little awkward, he thinks, at first, due to the nature of their first meeting. She had thought him so astounding, but it was merely due to him fudging the truth to discuss her interests.

On top of which, he fell so easily during such an important battle. What a house leader, what a shining prince.

He smiles as he approaches, and he extends a carafe of juice to her. "Hello, Princess L'Arachel. I...I wanted to express my sympathies, that your bout did not end in victory for you. ...And admit that my own ended in failure..."

It is hard, to keep the smile on his face, but he manages. "I'd like to apologize - perhaps if I had been...a better leader, we might have been able to scrape a victory for our teams, but as it stands, I have much more to learn yet."

He wants to please her, wants to impress her, but it is hard, he realizes, and he is young. There is so much that he hasn't done, hasn't fought.

His grin becomes lighter, more genuine, after a moment. "Perhaps, er, our alteregos might have, ah, slain the villains! And brought us...glory?" He laughs, but it is sincere. "Thank you, Princess, for fighting for the Lions today."

A flask hovers in her vision, and attached to it is the arm of her monster-slayer-in-training! Delighted, L'Arachel takes the offered juice and a hearty swig in one smooth motion. Her lips are still a little cracked from the alternating swirl of fire and ice, but the cold tang of apples soothes their tiresome aching somewhat.

'Dimitri! Ah, that is to say,' Before her very eyes, Uncle hovers, spectral, his eyebrows knitted in a familiar warning - titles were such a hassle, but she supposed they had to be put to use sometimes. Even if she wished they were half as fun as they ones she created herself. 'House Leader!'

A sigh escapes her lips at the memory of her short-lived brilliance on the field. But, perhaps it was for the best. Had she been permitted to unveil her full magnificence... Well, it certainly wouldn't have been much of a 'mock' battle!

'To say admit makes it sound like a crime!' She gasps, with a little more involvement than she had perhaps intended. But really, a crime would be so very thrilling! And then she could once more don the mantle of truth-teller and-! But, his face does not echo a taste for mystery in the present moment, and so she stands.

'What you and I have done today was no failure, Dimitri. To suggest ones such as we can fail!' And here she wrinkles her nose, as if suddenly accosted with a bad smell. 'This battle was but a taste of our potential, and our foes should be wracked with thankfulness to have been fed so well!'

Smiling indulgently, she digs into a pocket in her jacket and produces a slightly crumpled piece of paper. 'We cannot know why the Gods will what they do, but adversity is essential to the formation of a true hero!' She toys with the wrinkles in the slip for a moment; a rare expression of hesitation on her features.

If she'd known she would be parting with such a treasure, she would've secured a better copy!

The mention of alter-egos barges into her musings and for a moment she nearly loses grip on the paper in her excitement. 'Ah!! Yes, The Beautiful Princess of Peerless Beauty and, um, pray tell, what is the name of your heroic mask?' Doing her best impression of someone trustworthy (an impression that she believed with all her heart to be simply the truth) she leans in close, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. 'I won't tell a soul the identity of who lies beneath it!'

Allowing him time to deliberate, the wind ruffles the sheet in her hand, elevating its already eye-catching details, flashes of bright pink and curling text, to her attention. 'We all have much to learn, Dimitri. I am sure it will shock you to know that even I have knowledge yet untapped!' She says, a prompt for compliments very much explicit. 'But this is a school no? I believe that learning is the most exciting part.'

And, grinning, she hands him the sheet of paper, as if written within it was the answers to the deepest and most pressing questions of life itself. 'Here, use it to inspire even greater deeds in the future!' Inside the folded sheet, a scrawled image of herself, framed with text providing an encouraging rallying cry for a particular day of the week, seemed to smile too.

#asks: consult my wisdom!#support: l'arachel dimitri / noble hart #((DIMITRIIIIUUUIAHHHHH))#((the fact that he wants to be the idealised knight of l'ara's storybooks is making me ILL))#((i have come to care ablut their relationship so much it makes me shake like a new born deer just thinking abt it grahhhh))#((them :]))#toaboel2024

5 notes · View notes

the-doctor-3000 · 2 years

Text

HC: being Master Splinter's niece who was also taken in by Shredder. . .

A/n: For the sake of this hc, Yoshi will have a sister.

Warning: Mentions of death and maybe some manipulation

Listening to: Davy Jones theme song

Phew!

Where shall I even begin?

Pre-Tang Shen (& her death), things would be very smooth.

You had your kunoichi mom, your dad, your two ninja uncles and your grandfather - the leader of the Hamato Clan.

Hamato Yoshi would tell you many jokes and chuckle whenever you tried to copy their fighting stances and failed.

He promised to help you improve and become a skilled kunoichi.

Your mom greatly disapproved since you were only four and didn't want you to have the same life as she and her brothers had.

Now. . . When Tang Shen came along, your relationship with both your uncles became a bit rocky.

They would rarely spend time with you as they tried to capture Shen's attention.

You didn't mind with Shen, you actually liked her.

She gave you the best hugs!🤗 And was very nice to you and your parents.

But you did miss the attention from your uncles.

And you'd get extremely annoyed by their constant comments to each other and competitive behaviour.

Of course. . . Things didn't get much better after Tang Shen and Yoshi got married and had baby Miwa.

When you turned six, your parents had to go for a mission but they never returned.

You lived with Tang Shen and Miwa since Yoshi and Saki would spend most of their time at the dojo.

This was your new normal and you had grown used to it.

Until one fateful day...

The dojo was set on fire with your aunt and uncle Yoshi inside.

You heard your baby cousin crying and held her in your arms as you cried too.

You couldn't help it.

First you lost both your parents.

Then your grandfather.

And now you lost two more people you cared about in the entire world.

You promised to take care of your baby cousin.

Then. . .

You both had been taken in by your other (adoptive) uncle; Oroku Saki.

He raised you and Miwa - now known as Karai - as if you were his own children.

Saki trained you to become a fearless kunoichi.

He taught you to be merciless.

And, although you were grateful for him taking care of you, you hated it.

Every second of your training felt like bringing dishonor to your clan. Your actual clan.

You'd spend many nights awake wondering what would they think if they saw you now.

Sixteen years later⏳

You were a Foot Clan assassin with one purpose in mind.

To kill the one who murdered Yoshi and Shen.

(We all know it was Saki but he obviously lied since little you didn't see who did it.)

You hated what have you become but you lost your care a long time ago in the fire.

You and Karai where on patrol when one of these mutant turtles seemed to recognize you.

He then realized who you were and after his suspicions had been correct, he tried to convince you to come with him.

Leo, that was his name, seemed very genuine and didn't look like a person who intended to trick people.

Your adoptive uncle/father told you not to trust them but a part of you was curious.

He knew who you were despite not having met before.

After some time, the thought of something being hidden from you crossed your mind and considered Leo's offer seriously.

He led you to the lair, much to Raph's disdain, and you couldn't help but feel a heaviness in your chest with every step closer to the dojo.

When you saw your uncle; you recognized him immediately even though he was now a mutated anthropomorphic rat.

Some of his features remained the same; the kind look in his eyes, the bushy eyebrows.

You approached him slowly, holding the tears that you thought you lost.

You raised your hands to his face to feel if he was real or not.

"U-uncle Yoshi?" she stuttered out, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks "I-is it r-really you?"

The wise rat nodded with a gentle smile. Not being able to hold back anymore, she hugged him tightly as she sobbed.

You apologised for what you've done and what had you become.

He told you there was nothing to forgive since it was Shredder's doing and not yours.

After that, you decided to stay there with them.

You didn't want to spend one more second with the man who manipulated you all these years.

The man who lied to you.

Who killed your aunt.

And used you as a weapon against Splinter and his new family.

The first turtle you got along with was Leo.

Since he was the one who told you everything.

Then it was Donnie and Mikey.

And last was Raph.

He had some hard time believing that you had actually betrayed Shredder.

Ofc you became best friends with April O'Neill and Casey Jones.

The only regret you had from all of this was not being with Karai when you decided to come.

If only she was with you then you'd all be together again.

Meanwhile

Shredder was beyond furious for your betrayal!

No. . .

He refused to believe you went with them willingly.

He thought that they kidnapped you.

That Splinter did this as revenge for taking his daughter.

Karai - not knowing what actually happened - believed her adoptive father and wouldn't rest until she had the closest thing she had to a sister back.

Back to the lair!

You'd train with the others in order to unlearn the Oroku way.

You became something like an older sister to the gang.

You'd help April train more so she could become a full kunoichi.

Expect MILLIONS of questions from Mikey and Casey about your previous life.

It was a touchy subject but whenever you'd feel comfortable enough, and share your story with them and the rest of the team - they would become more understanding.

(The picture is not mine credit to the original creator*s*)

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2012 x reader #2012 tmnt #master splinter #hamato clan #hamato yoshi #oroku saki #karai 2012 #shredder #2012 donnie #2012 leo #2012 april o'neil #2012 casey jones #tmnt raph #2012 raph #2012 mikey #x reader

462 notes · View notes

inkweaver22-blr · 3 years

Text

Welcome to lucky chapter 13!

A few announcements before we begin!

First, we got fan art! Shout out to @ooflifeshard for their art of the Jin/Yin/Tang fusion!

Second, I post extra thoughts on my writing process and the chapter in general on my Tumblr! Look up the tag Fanfiction Live Blogging to read them!

Now let’s get on with the story!

AO3 Link

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Thirteen: Aspects of Arachnids

The Spider Clan is made up of some interesting people. That includes MK this time.

----------

“So what did you want to talk about Mr. Tang?”

They were taking a walk through a secluded park. Tang had asked to speak with the young man privately once he had woken in this cycle to address a recent memory he had received.

“I wanted to apologize to you, MK,” Tang said. MK tilted his head in confusion.

“What for?”

“For the way I treated you last week.”

MK tensed.

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“MK.” Tang turned and placed his hands on MK’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “It’s okay. I know.”

“Know what?” MK was trembling now. He avoided Tang’s gaze, wide eyes darting around as if to look for a place to hide.

Tang gave him a reassuring squeeze and kind smile.

“I know you are the spider demon we saw.”

Last week had been before Tang had woken in the cycle. They had all rushed over to where MK had been fighting a demon alone only to find a spider demon they had never seen before wearing MK’s jacket and bandana while holding the Monkey King’s staff.

The group had, predictably, reacted with hostility. They threatened the demon and attacked him. They hadn’t been able to actually harm him before he got away, and MK had shown up perfectly fine the next day.

Physically at least.

When Tang had gone over the memories earlier this morning, it was obvious to him who the demon actually was. It certainly wasn’t the first time MK was something other than human.

He was also able to see the signs of emotional distress MK was showing over the past week. It was clear that their reaction to his true form was devastating to him.

Tang intended to fix that.

“I didn’t figure it out until this morning,” Tang said when it was clear MK had frozen in fear and wasn’t going to say anything. He pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it right away. You are very important to me and I am ashamed to have made you feel like you were unwanted.”

“You- You don’t mind?” MK clung tightly to the scholar, as if afraid he’d vanish at any moment.

“Of course I don’t. What you are or what you look like isn’t important to me. What matters is who you are and I happen to care about the person you are quite a lot.”

Tang held the young man as he trembled in his embrace. He pulled away after a few minutes, wiping his eyes and giving Tang a watery smile.

“Thank you, Tang.”

“Any time, MK.”

“Do the others know?”

“I haven’t told them anything,” Tang said as they continued their walk. “This is your secret and you should be the one to reveal it when you’re ready.”

“But what if they react like last time?” MK kicked a rock out of his path and seemed to fold into himself. “What if they don’t want to be friends with something like me?”

“First off, that would be pretty hypocritical of them considering both Pigsy and Sandy are technically demons as well and Mei is descended from a dragon. That actually makes me the odd one out in our group as the only human.”

“Huh. Didn’t think of that,” MK said.

“Second, I know they all care about you, MK. I sincerely doubt they wouldn’t be able to look past appearances and see the person we all love.”

“Love?” MK stared wide eyed at Tang.

“I like to think of us as a family,” Tang said. “Even if we aren’t the typical kind, families love each other, and you are a part of that.”

“Family…” MK smiled sadly into the distance. “It would be nice to have more family.”

“There is no ‘would be’ about it.” Tang slung his arm around MK’s shoulders. “We are family and you’re stuck with us no matter what.”

MK gave him a wide grin, leaning into the sideways hug as they continued on their path.

“Aren’t you curious by what I meant by ‘more family’?”

“Of course I am,” Tang said. “But it’s not my place to pry. If you want to talk about that then I’d be more than willing to listen.”

“Oh, well okay,” MK said, perking up a bit. He began to enthusiastically speak about his other family, but never giving any names.

Tang was able to piece together who he was talking about rather easily.

The Spider Queen was his mother. It wasn’t much of a surprise for Tang as she had filled that role for MK in the past, but never quite so literally. From what MK was saying, she seemed to still be that lovingly supportive yet protective type that he had encountered in previous cycles.

The fact that she was a much more active villain in this cycle that MK constantly fought was not addressed.

Huntsman was ‘Uncle H’. He seemed to be the type of person that gave small children lessons on knife wielding just so they could protect themselves. MK had learned all his combat skills in his spider form from him.

Huntsman was certainly a focused and skilled combatant, but, as his many friendships with Sandy across time showed, he also knew how to enjoy the quieter moments in life.

That left Goliath as ‘Uncle G’. The large spider may seem like just a brute who relied on his strength, but Tang had witnessed his soft side a few times. MK spoke fondly of the lullabies Goliath had sang when he was still little as well as his delicious cooking.

Tang wondered how it compared to Pigsy’s creations and mused on how he could try and get a cook off set up.

MK did not speak of Syntax. That made sense as it was still somewhat early in the cycle and the scientist hadn’t really joined up with the spiders until after Demon Bull King’s second invasion.

Tang did his best to recall what he knew about the man. They had been friends and colleagues once in a cycle where they had been professors at the city university.

Syntax could be a bit standoffish to those he didn’t know. Once he warmed up to you though, he loved to go on long tangents about chemistry, biology, and computer engineering. He could also be surprisingly thoughtful, having dropped by several times with an extra cup of coffee on those late nights Tang had been stuck in his office grading papers.

Tang never knew why he started working for the Spider Queen. The scientist had always been a bit ambitious, so he supposed working on something as unique as a serum using bits of the Monkey King’s power was more than enough to sway him.

It was a shame the serum was then used against him and he seemed to lose all memories of his human life.

Tang forced himself back into the present as MK finished up an anecdote about Huntsman and Goliath nearly panicking after MK had fallen asleep in his hiding spot during a game of hide and seek.

“They all sound wonderful,” Tang said once MK had finished.

“Yeah, they are.” MK sighed wistfully. “I haven’t spoken to them in a while though.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… Complicated.”

Tang could certainly understand that considering how they fought each other on a nearly weekly basis.

“Well whatever the reason, it sounds like they care about you just as much as we do,” Tang said. “I’m sure they’d be more than happy to welcome you back into their lives.”

“I know that,” MK said with a huff. “I’m just not sure they'd approve of me being the Monkey King’s successor.”

“I see.”

Tang did see. He had been a part of demon families before and knew how leaving one’s blood to side with an enemy could tear relationships apart. He hoped that wouldn’t happen here with MK.

“In any case, I just hope you know that you have people that care about you and if you ever need help to just ask, okay?”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks Tang.” MK gave him another smile before frowning in thought. “I’m still not sure if I want to tell the others though.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Tang said. “If you aren’t ready then you aren’t ready. I won’t say anything to anyone before you do.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

The rest of the walk was spent discussing lighter subjects such as the latest Monkey Cop movie and which types of noodles were superior.

Tang decided to not bring up his curse this cycle. He knew he could get around the memory seal by simply stating he had a curse but not exactly its effects, but MK already had quite a lot to deal with this time. He didn’t want to add on to that stress with something that couldn’t be fixed.

He hoped that the Spider Clan would come to accept MK as he was, successor to the Monkey King and all. Not just for his sake either, as Tang could already feel four spots slowly opening up in his heart where he kept his love for his family.

It would be hard to bring them into the fold. Much harder than Macaque, the twins, or even the Demon Bull Family.

But Tang was patient.

He would use this cycle to get to know the spiders better. They were already MK’s family this time around.

Perhaps, in time, they could become his as well.

----------

Things went to Hell rather quickly.

New Years went the same as usual, but this time with the added horror of a mutated Macaque.

The shadow demon had been willingly experimented on by Syntax after he had failed to steal the Monkey King’s powers from MK. He now sported an extra set of arms and eyes, had lavender fur, and was in constant pain from the modifications. Wukong had offered him sanctuary, and Macaque had accepted.

MK hadn’t taken it well when he learned that it was his mother who had convinced Macaque to go through with the procedure.

Now something even worse was happening. This was a cycle that not only changed MK’s background, but someone else’s as well.

Lady Bone Demon was much more impulsive this cycle.

She had attacked them all directly this time, before even gathering up the artifacts she needed. They had all been overwhelmed pretty quickly and everyone except MK had been captured. She had then given him an ultimatum.

Give her the Monkey King’s power, or MK’s family would perish.

Lady Bone Demon then ‘graciously’ gave MK twenty four hours to think about it before teleporting away with her captives.

“Hey, where are you taking him?!”

Tang glanced up as he realized that he hadn’t been placed in the same cell as his family. Pigsy and Mei glared at the skeleton guards while Sandy tended to the unconscious Wukong and Macaque.

“Boss only wants five to a cell,” guard one said.

“Hope your friend here isn’t afraid of spiders,” guard two mocked.

Tang blinked at that as the others began to protest loudly. The guards simply laughed and led him away.

Well, he had wanted to get to know the Spider Clan better this cycle, hadn’t he?

After being marched down many winding corridors, Tang was thrown unceremoniously into a different cell.

Tang picked himself up and was confronted with the scowling faces of the Spider Queen and her entourage. They had certainly looked like they had seen better days.

After demanding why he was there, they had dismissed him and went back to trying to come up with a way to escape.

They had mused about eating him for a bit, Huntsman even going as far as to restrain him and brandishing a knife, before Tang had been forced to break his promise to MK. They were skeptical at first, but once Tang began telling the stories he had heard from MK, they believed him.

Spider Queen was emotionally distraught at the thought of harming her baby, but became more resolved than ever to beat Lady Bone Demon once she realized they were being used as hostages against her son.

Huntsman had been a bit more accepting, bragging about how the only reason MK had beaten them so often was from all the training he had given him. Goliath had just asked if he was eating well.

Syntax had been standing off to the side looking uncomfortable before Tang assured him that MK would be more than happy to get to know him.

The Spider Clan had invited Tang into their scheming quickly afterwards. None of their plans were very feasible, but Tang felt his connection to the four grow stronger.

Strange were the bonds you could make when in prison.

Before they could act on any of their plans, the twenty four hours were up and they were whisked away by the magic of their captor.

Tang opened his eyes to find the ten of them suspended in the air by blue ropes as Lady Bone floated in front of them. On the ground was a horrified looking MK.

“Now it is time you choose,” she said. She reached out and grabbed Tang and Spider Queen by their arms, pulling them forwards. “Your powers? Or your family?”

“Don’t listen to her, baby,” Spider Queen called out. “We’ll be fine! Just get out of here!”

“M-mom?!” MK’s mouth had dropped at being recognized.

“Sorry, MK. I broke my promise,” Tang said. “To be fair, your family was planning on eating me before I told them.”

“We said we were sorry about that-”

“ENOUGH!” Lady Bone Demon’s bellow shook the ground. “What is your decision?!”

“I- I can’t-” MK was trembling as he gripped his staff tightly.

“Wrong answer.”

Tang and Spider Queen screamed as they each had one of their arms shattered in her grip. Lady Bone Demon tossed them behind her, the blue ropes re-materializing to bind them as she summoned a large scythe.

“One last chance.” She pulled back the weapon, preparing to strike. “Give me the Monkey King’s power!”

MK roared in rage and seemed to explode into gold, purple, and green light.

Tang gasped in pain as he tried to stay awake. He stared in shock as the light expanded and formed into a giant figure.

Tang had seen the giant form that Wukong would occasionally become to take on much more powerful opponents. Macaque had access to this power as well and so would MK sometimes. It had no official name, but a scroll he had read many cycles ago had described it in a way that Tang couldn’t help but agree with.

Aspects of Destruction.

It resembled MK’s spider form, but with his human half looking more like a monkey’s instead. He had four arms now and each one held a copy of the Monkey King’s staff. The twelve eyes glowed with a burning green malice as they glared at Lady Bone Demon.

Faster than he could blink, Tang watched as MK swung one of his staffs and batted the white demon away from them. MK roared and leapt after her.

The pain from having his bones crushed soon became too much and Tang passed out.

----------

Tang woke up on Sandy’s airship.

He learned it was a few days later. MK hadn’t been able to defeat Lady Bone Demon, but had managed to buy them all the time to escape. They had also managed to pick up Red Son somewhere along the way.

Now, all twelve of them were out of the city looking for a way to defeat her.

The Spider Clan had seemed to integrate easily into their group over the next few weeks.

Spider Queen had already gotten to know Macaque over the course of the experiments, but once Wukong decided to go through the same procedure and gained two extra pairs of arms, she seemed to start flirting with the both of them.

Neither monkey seemed bothered by this and flirted right back.

Huntsman had decided Mei needed proper weapons training with her sword and whenever he wasn’t giving her pointers was drinking tea with Sandy.

Goliath shared cooking duty with Pigsy. The pair gave each other tips and techniques and their meals only became tastier from the collaboration.

Syntax had seemed a bit lost at first, but after completing one of the internet memes MK had quoted, became fast friends with him. He even got to have stimulating scientific discussions with Red Son.

Tang sighed in contentment at dinner one evening as he listened to the conversations around him.

He had never thought he would have longed for a large family, but this just felt right to him.

Tang hoped he would get to experience it more often in future cycles.

----------

The Spider Clan joins the ranks!

I think that leaves only two characters left out of Tang’s family. Considering who they are, I doubt that will happen any time soon.

This chapter takes place in @strange-lace's amazing Spider Monkie AU! It has some great angst and fluff as well as absolutely lovely spider-monkey designs for Macaque and Wukong! Go check it out!

Now technically this AU doesn't have a kaiju form for MK, but I wanted to introduce the concept to the story and it didn't fit anywhere in the coming chapters.

There’s going to be some plot in the next chapter so look forward to it! Until next time!

33 notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 4 years

Text

Plus One | Kevin Moon (Around The World Collab)

When your boyfriend of eight years suddenly decides to break up with you right before your destined trip for your cousin’s wedding, nothing can cure your broken heart. In a desperate attempt to make you feel better, Kevin states that he will be your plus one.

Genre: little angst, fluff, friends to lovers.

This fic is part of a collab “Around The World”, featuring different countries x the boyz members. I had the utmost pleasure of working with such an amazing group of talented writers for this project, so please don’t forget to check out their works too! ^^ <3

This fic is takes place on Mauritius Island.

Word count: 9k IZ A LONG ONE SO BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUPS

Tagging: @aniyawoos @chaoticdeobi @moondustaeil @juyeonzz @atbzkingdom @2hyunjae @jopping-to-my-kpop @jeongsinkookie @ihearttbz @heartyyjeno @bahnmi07 @sadlandia @itsquxxn

-----------

Eight years, gone just like that.

I stare at a spot on my navy blue suitcase, not really focused on what’s before me and more concerned about the memories flickering past my lids. I can’t help it. Everytime I see luggage, it makes me think of the way I kicked him out of my life. Everytime, a slab of pain will grab my heart between its icy fingers and squeeze it so that I can barely breathe. Everytime, until I feel like I’m drowning inside dark waters without the real desire to swim to the surface.

My psychiatrist told me that it had been for the better. That it had been an obsessive, unhealthy kind of love in the first place. But was it better now that I couldn’t even feel my heart in the hollow space where it’s supposed to be?

“Y/N.”

Still, I remember the messages on his phone, the way his touch would feel strange, eerily hollow for some reason, the way he’d avoid my eyes whenever he’d tell me that he was going out with the guys. I remember smelling his coat and recoiling at the cheap scent of perfume clinging to it like second skin, how he’d constantly tell me how wonderful I was-- too wonderful for him -- and that I should find better, that I didn’t deserve someone like him.

And then, when I’d stumbled into our flat a little earlier than I was meant to -- since my gym class had been cancelled -- and took note of the trail of shoes, followed by a coat, a shirt, a thong, before my ears picked up on the noises echoing from the bedroom doors…

“Y/N?”

His face when he spotted me, the astounded expression like a dog that had just been caught sneaking into the pantry. And the girl, a prettier woman, a curvy woman, with red lips and with those beautifully deep red wine locks tumbling down her back with the perfect physique that could make any man drool. That girl, who was none other than one of my good friends at work and who had spent most part of the year listening to my rants about him.

“Y/N!”

“Huh?” My head whips up when I register my name being called out, looking up to see a raven-haired, petite-faced man leaning against the bedroom doorway with raised brows and a concerned expression on his face.

“Oh, you’re here,” I say, as he crosses the doorway and sits beside me. The bed dips down under his weight as he tilts his head in that knowing manner of his, “daydreaming again?”

“No,” I mumble, but he sees right through my facade and with a sigh, his arms wrap around my shoulder before pillowing his head against my shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs as I allow myself to lean back against him, against his comfort. His lavender scent wraps around me, a little bed of comfort amidst all the pain.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I murmur, tears stinging the corner of my eyes, “it hurts, Kev.”

He only holds me a little closer, a little tighter.

If there is one person that I can trust more than myself, it’s Kevin Moon. I’ve known Kevin ever since high school, having hung out in the same friend group until we had become partners for an art project. It was only then that we’d become closer, and had been close ever since. With his angular features and almond mono lidded eyes and thin lips that were constantly shaped in a pout, the Korean-born man had moved to Canada when he was young, just like I had a few years ago. He had kept me afloat during my university days, I had comforted him through his first break up. He had been present during my final Fine Arts Photography Exhibition, I was up all night coming up with re-branding concepts for his design project. Overall, Kevin had pretty much been a constant in my life, you get the gist of it.

When he found out that my boyfriend had cheated just a few days before our destined trip to attend my cousin’s wedding -- mind you, I had been sobbing waterfalls and it was a miracle he even understood me through my blubbering mess -- he had half a mind to storm up to the guy and rip his throat out. But he did the most surprising thing; booked a ticket for himself and turned up at my flat on the eve of the departure, stating that he was going to accompany me to that wedding, whether I liked it or not.

My cousin, Emma, was getting married right where home was: Mauritius. The memories I once had of the small island nestled right in the Indian Ocean on the right of Madagascar, was of my grandma’s comforting food, the sea scented air that washed along with the too-white sandy beaches, the multitudes of merchants selling all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables on the side of the road, and small corner stores that looked like they had come out of a 1960’s movie. People liked to claim that Mauritius was paradise on earth, and in a way, it is.

“Come on,” Kevin had nagged when I shook my head adamantly. He’d wriggled his plane ticket before my nose, “you’re not going to let that loser spoil such a happy event are you? Emma’s waiting for you!”

In the end, he’d won. Which is why we are here, staying at my cousin, Emma’s, apartment in a village called Moka, located at the foot of a mountain and has an abundance of forestry adorning the sides of the road. It's chilly here, in comparison to the harbourfront, and constantly smells like fresh rain and has a gentle fresh breeze blowing through.

“You know, assholes like him are not worth thinking about,” Kevin says now, his arm a gentle soothing caress up and down my back, “your brain might rot.”

I can’t help but let out a soft, choked up laugh.

“It’s our first day here, let’s not ruin it by thinking about him, hm?” Kevin continues soothingly and I nod in agreement. He’s right. I’m just wasting time by reliving memories that I should be banishing from my mind.

“Okay!” he brightens up then, “where shall we go? The sea? The market? Or do you want to go eat?!”

--------------

The first few days are about meeting up with family and rediscovering Mauritius for what it is. Emma gives me a full-fledged hug the moment I open the door to her house, pressing me close to her with such motherly warmth that it takes everything in me not to break down right then and there. I greet my uncles and engage in small-talk with my aunts, help my grandma out in the kitchen as she continuously asks me why I’ve gotten so thin. While I know the main reason, I decide to smile and spare her the details, as embarrassing as it is.

No one mentions him, until one of my uncles slips during a conversation with Kevin, “so you’re Y/N’s boyfriend. Such a pleasure to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you that we started thinking she was just making things up.”

“Er--” Kevin reddens, “I--”

“So how did you two meet?”

It is at this very instant that my mouth decides to move on its own and I blurt out, “we’re high school friends.”

“Oh highschool sweethearts! How cute!”

Kevin doesn’t fail to mention what a mistake I’ve made to lie to my entire family to save face.

“I feel guilty,” he says as we walk out to the car, keys dangling from my wrist.

I unlock the car, “it’s fine. We’ll be in and out before they know it. They don’t have to know anything.”

“Hm, sure.”

After some well-deserved family time, Kevin and I decide to head to the west of the island to catch the sunset, my camera stuffed neatly in the backseat, where Kevin has tossed a few spare towels just in case. We each have donned our swimsuits for the occasion and it doesn’t take an expert to see the excitement thrumming through Kevin’s veins as he sits beside me like an excited child in the passenger seat.

“I never realized that you guys drive on the left side of the road,” he comments, head whipping back and forth in-between the passage of cars.

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to, especially if you’re crossing,” it is then that I notice that there is a newly built mall as we turn left at the green light, “hey, that’s new. I’ve never seen this before.”

“Cas-ca-velle,” he mumbles out with that strong accent of his. He is definitely not one to know French and I’ve been acting as his translator all along, considering that my family speaks French at home, “what does that mean?”

“Beats me. It’s just a fancy name for a new shopping mall,” I peer into its parking lot, “wanna visit?”

“Whatever floats your boat, honey. I’m all in.”

The mall is longer than it is wide, with white archways decked with wooden-style roofs that give way to an open-plan exterior. A wide beige cemented pathway occupies the space, with shops lined on either side.

“I never realized, but you guys are very multicultural,” comments Kevin as we pass by another family of four chattering quickly in a mixture of French and Creole.

“We’re similar to Canada that way.”

“Do you miss it here?”

My eyes glance over at him, notice the soft empathy in his expression.

“I guess I do sometimes,” I say while I kick at a stray pebble, “It’s like homesickness. But in a way I can’t quite explain,” after a moment, I ask, “do you miss Korea?”

“The food, mostly,” he grins bashfully, “my halmeoni makes a killer gamja tang.”

“Let’s go visit her one day.”

“Is that a promise?” he asks as I shrug, “if you want it to be.”

It’s a little past six when we drive up to the Flic En Flac beach and as we gather our things, my eyes light up upon falling on a nearby roti stand. I quickly slap Kevin’s arm in my bout of excitement.

“Ouch! What? What is it?”

“Kevin, you’re not going to believe this,” I point at the stand in question, “this roti stand? It’s the best roti in Mauritius. Here, take this,” I don’t wait before shoving my bag and camera in his arms, “I’m gonna buy us some. You go and find us a spot on the beach.”

“But--”

I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence before taking off, greeting the merchant who is just about to be wrapping up to ask whether I can get two rotis with ‘cari saumon’ (roughly translated into salmon curry mixed with indian spices), local and freshly made. The smell wafts through the folded paper wrappers as I grab them. They smell just like my childhood, where everything had just been as easy as having rotis by the beach without a care about the future that is to come. It’s nostalgic and I can’t help the smile tugging up my mouth at the thought.

Kevin is already settled atop a pair of spare towels and looks up at the sound of my footsteps approaching. I pass him one of the paper wrappers and he takes a peek, confusion flitting across his face.

“This smells spicy,” he mutters loudly enough for me to hear, “it looks like naan bread.”

“It is,” I agree, “except it’s flatter and more like a crepe.”

Throwing me a hesitant glance, he takes a small bite. I watch his face go from confused to impressed in a few seconds, before his eyes whip up to mine, “woah, this is good.”

“Told you so.”

“But this is really, really good,” he can’t help but marvel at it and laughing, I proceed to dig into my own roti, allowing my mouth to be filled with that salty fish taste melting along my tastebuds, the curry spices giving it the nice tangy kick you wouldn’t find anywhere else. The roti is soft and practically melts on my tongue and I can’t help but moan at how good it is.

“God, this is everything I’ve been looking for my whole life,” I find myself telling him, wrapped up in momentary bliss, “this, this is everything.”

I can feel his eyes on me, so intense that my own flicker up in question. He drops his gaze the moment I do and I frown, confused.

“What?” I can’t help but ask, wondering why he suddenly seems so meek, so shy and awkward, “what is it?”

“Nothing,” he replies like he’s trying to be casual, except that it’s anything but. When he gazes back at me, I notice the warmth in his maroon eyes, more the color of caramel in the dim light from the sunset basking his profile in a golden glow, “I think--I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you so happy, since...”

He doesn’t need to continue, for I know where this is going. Indeed, this is the first time in many months that I haven’t paid any attention to the hole inside my heart.

And it feels good.

“Yeah,” I murmur as I watch the sun settle on the ocean’s horizon, fire kissing water, “I don’t know, I just feel like this is nice. Like it’s right.”

I spare him a glance from the corner of my peripheral and watch him shift. His sleeveless shirt slips, allowing me a glimpse of the naked skin underneath. I quickly look away, slightly embarrassed at the notion of even thinking of him in such a way.

“That’s how you should be, Y/N,” Kevin murmurs back just as softly. It’s almost like talking too loudly will break the sudden spell that has settled over our shoulders. He takes a sip of his beer before continuing, “you’ve suffered enough for someone who deserves nothing but shit for what he’s done.”

There’s a small pause as I digest his words. Then, I manage to murmur out, “thanks, Kevin.”

“No problem.”

Another small bout of silence ensues, covered up by the sound of the ocean roaring up the sand, distant birds chirping in the fading light of the sunset drowning into the now orange-flecked waters.

“Hey Y/N.”

I glance at him. He’s gorgeous, even more so somehow. Maybe it’s the time of the day, maybe it’s the mood, or maybe it’s the way my heart can’t help but be swallowed in gratefulness whenever I look at him.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you know water has memory?”

I choke on my beer, “do not-- and I mean this-- do not quote Frozen with me.”

“Huh, I tried.”

---------------------------

“So, Kevin huh?”

My eyes shoot up to meet Emma’s in her crusty-dust-filled mirror, presently lounging on her bed and flipping through a book as I had been trying on my bridesmaid gown. Kevin is downstairs, helping out with the barbeque grill with the rest of the family, and it is only now that I get to have some alone time with the woman I consider my sister.

She’s the only one that knew the exact details of my breakup, and that Kevin is only a mere replacement to cover my humiliated ass. I remember her trying to calm me down when I had called in a frenzy, practically hyperventilating because of the amount of pain that gripped at my heart and was choking me of all air.

I revert my eyes back to the dress, a baby blue as bright as a summer sky, and smooth my hands down my sides, “he’s been so good to me, ever since…” I can’t finish the sentence, voice already wobbling at the thought that comes with it.

“Hey,” Emma’s murmur causes me to look up, and in her eyes I see a flicker of understanding, “he’s not worth it.”

“I know,” I swallow back the tears crawling up my throat, “I know, it’s just--a hard pill to swallow.”

A hand comes to a rest at my elbow, before my cousin tucks her chin atop my shoulder, “it’ll be alright, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you."

I nod. Then, just to change the subject so that I don’t break down in her arms, I gesture towards the dress, “so? How does it look?”

Emma tugs at some pieces here and there, rearranging the fabric as she sees fit, “I think it looks good. You look gorgeous. Kevin will swoon, for sure.”

“It’s not like that,” I hurriedly say as I strip out of the dress and put it back on its hanger, “we’re just friends.”

“Mhm,” she throws me a pointed look, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “'just friends' doesn't feel right..”

“Emma, really? Right after my breakup?”

“He came to Mauritius just for you Y/N,” she squeezes my shoulders comfortingly, “doesn’t that count for something?”

“Well, we’ve been friends since high school so…”

“I don’t think just any friend in high school would do such a thing if I asked,” Emma catches my eye in the mirror, her gaze deep and meaningful, “just think about that.”

I just nod in hopes that she’ll stop yapping away at my nonexistent relationship with Kevin, whatever that means. The hole in my heart is still so raw and filled with pain that I can’t even start thinking about another relationship. The thought alone is enough to drain me of all energy and I decide to brush it off for now as I follow Emma out in the backyard now filled with familiar chatter and the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air, with the sky bruising a soft purple to signal the end of a long summer day.

Catching sight of Kevin as I bring out one of the many salad bowls that my family has prepared, my lips can’t help but twitch into a slow smile when I see him by the grill, whipping away the multitudes of flies zipping back and forth as my other cousin deftly flips the sausages upside down with a trained rhythm that only years of experience can bring.

“Kevin! You’re not doing your job right!” my cousin cries playfully. Kevin attempts to flap the newspaper around while screeching, “oh god, my eyes are burning!"

“Someone bring more meat!” My cousin hollers.

“There’s more?!”

“He’s doing a great job,” my grandmother’s voice brings my attention back to the salad bowl in my hands, and I quickly bend to kiss her cheek as she continues, “better than any of your other cousins. They never help out.”

“That’s because you pamper them too much, grandma,” I grin at her and follow her to the dining table where my aunts are already settling down amongst themselves.

The evening passes by with good food and good company, the sky darkening and dotting with a veil of stars that has Kevin gawking in awe. I'm not surprised, you don't see skies like that anywhere, a sky that isn't so intoxicated with modern chemicals. My uncles take it upon themselves to introduce Kevin to all the types of Mauritian delicacies, such as chickpea fritters we call 'gato pima', small balls of graped choko vegetable and minced pork 'niouk yen', and to top it all off, a plate of cornmeal pudding also known as 'pudine mai' that makes Kevin's eyes go wide with surprise.

"This is dessert?" He holds it up in his hand, "with ...cornmeal?"

"Sure is," one of my aunts chime in with a smile, "made it just this morning."

It's past midnight when we get back to our little apartment with Emma's dress hanging off my arms, which Kevin doesn't hesitate to grab from my hold despite my protests.

"It's fine dude," he flashes me a quick smile, albeit tired, and my heart does this weird little squeeze in my chest at his thoughtfulness.

He's kind. Too kind. I really don't deserve someone like him.

"I'm sorry," I say as we settle onto the small couch, shoulders fitted snugly against each other, "my family is kinda overwhelming."

"No no," Kevin looks over, edges of his lips curled up, "I actually love your family, you know."

My chest warms, "thanks."

There is a moment of silence that we enjoy, the day's events sinking into my bones.

"Hey," he murmurs.

"Hm?"

My eyes slide over to catch his, dark pools glimmering with a certain softness that catches my attention.

I bite my lip. It suddenly feels a little warm.

"What is it?" I ask, voice hoarse.

"Is oreo a sandwich?"

I sit up so suddenly that I jostle him, "wait--what?"

He grins up at me with that little nose scrunch that I can't help but find endearing, "is oreo a sandwich?" I open my mouth to answer but he beats me to it, "is cereal a soup?"

"Stop."

Reclining back to lace his hands at the back of his head, he says, "is ketchup a smoothie?"

"Stop it."

"What about hotdogs? Are they sandwiches?" He continues in a singsong voice and rolling my eyes, I make a move to punch him once more. But he's faster, hand shooting out to hold my wrists. He pulls me over and I stumble, knee pressing against the side of his leg.

"Come on. Answer it," he wriggles his eyebrows.

"Nope."

“Don’t be a party pooper.”

“You’re so annoying.”

"Are you sick of me yet?" His face is so close that I notice the creases at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

"That's an understatement."

"But really, do you think oreo is a sandwich?"

"No! Oreos are just oreos!"

“You’re no fun,” He pouts before finally releasing his hold. I draw back with a roll of my eyes, settling beside him once more and pillowing my head onto his shoulder.

Emma’s right. Kevin had sacrificed so much to be here with me, and he doesn’t even know Emma. Yet, he immediately dropped everything so that he could be my plus one, so that I wouldn’t have to face the music alone. The thought makes my heart swell with emotion and suddenly I’m all too aware of his presence beside me.

I shift to gaze at him, eyes tracing the curve of his nose, the indent above his lips before I whisper, “hey Kevin.”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you come?”

His eyes flicker over to mine then. A heartbeat passes. For a moment, I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat suddenly throbbing a little too loudly in my chest.

“Good question.”

Another pause.

“That’s not an answer,” I laugh slightly, to show that it’s all just fun and games.

But when I catch his eyes next, there’s something else brimming in them. They’re tender with emotion and it catches me so off guard that I almost don’t catch his next set of words:

“Because I care about you.”

My heart gives a quick lurch but I somehow can’t tear my gaze away. I want to say something. Anything.

But all I can muster is a soft, “oh.”

“Why do you ask?” he asks, voice hoarse.

I hesitate, “Emma asked why. And...I guess I wanted to know too.”

“Oh.”

The air feels heavy, heightened with the things that are threatening to slip off the edge of my tongue. A mixed series of ‘but why’s and ‘can’t you tell me more’ jumbling up my thoughts with so many possibilities that I decide to stay quiet for the sake of not ruining the moment. Because there’s this lingering fear that once I do say something, then it’ll just pull me down a rabbit hole that I can’t crawl out of, that the only escape lies on the other side.

And I don’t know if I want to take that leap yet. My heart is already so fragile with the aftermath of a love that went wrong. I don’t know how much more I can take.

So I just stay quiet and let out a soft sigh, and though Kevin shifts as if he wants to say something, he doesn’t. The question just hangs there between us, in-between the slithers of moonlight and in the cold Moka air, like a perpetual ghost we ignore as we drift off to sleep.

----------

Something shifts between us after that. It’s unspoken of, but suddenly, I am all too aware of Kevin as a whole. Things that I hadn’t noticed before surface as we spend most of our free time visiting the rest of the island; like how he loves ruffling his hair whenever he feels uncomfortable, or the way his bicep curls as his arm drapes over the wheel with the barest hint of muscle that is enough to be attractive yet subtle, or how he smirks in that attractive way of his whenever he thinks something is undeniably adorable.

The good thing about having Kevin is that I don’t get to think of him all too much, which is a blessing in itself. It’s been days since I’ve shed another tear and for that, I have to say I’m glad that I’m making progress.

We spent the last few days before the wedding traveling around the island to visit all the touristy spots that I know Kevin will enjoy, like a hike all the way to the top of Le Morne mountain, where I explain that’s where slaves would throw themselves off when their masters would find them. We visited Bois Cheri, a tea-making factory where Kevin had the pleasure of tasting all different kinds of teas cultivated in the fields below, and ate lunch on the Caudan Waterfront as we gazed at the boats lulling along the harbour.

“Woah, this place makes me feel like I’m in Aladdin somehow,” Kevin’s mouth is wide agape as his eyes try to take in the endless racks of stands selling fresh fruits and vegetables of the day. The Port-Louis Bazaar has always been one of my favourite places to visit, but it’s also one of the busiest. Even now as we attempt to squeeze our way through, people are jostling us here and there, causing me to press my bag to my chest in case any pickpockets are nearby. I prompt Kevin to do the same.

“Hey Y/N, I wanna check out the bags over there,” Kevin motions towards the hand-woven baskets situated at the far end of the market and I nod as we keep moving forward with the crowd like a pair of salmons trying to swim upstream. But there’s so many people, it’s so suffocating that it gets hard to keep up with Kevin’s figure. Someone elbows my shoulder and I groan, stumbling to the side in irritation, only to get pushed forward by another.

“Seriously--” I curse under my breath, when a hand suddenly appears before my eyes.

Looking up to see Kevin’s outstretched arm, I am only greeted with his bashful smile and averted eyes.

“Come on,” he doesn’t even wait for my consent before slipping his palm over my own and tugging me along, his hold firm and strong despite his skinny frame and the action is enough to render a flurry of butterflies soaring over my stomach.

Stop, I try telling my subconscious. That does nothing, however, to stop my neck from tingling with unfamiliar heat.

Kevin’s hand feels so warm. It’s comfortable, safe.

And I’m liking it a little too much.

He doesn’t let go when we reach the desired stand and talk over which bag looks the best and keeps his hand in mine for the entirety of our journey back to the car. Only when I unlock the doors that his palm finally drops from my hold and air rushes over my palm that is now a little too cold without his warmth. But while a multitude of questions are burning the back of my throat, they fall apart halfway through at the thought of his answer, before I decide to drop it altogether.

Kevin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem the least bit affected.

When the day of the wedding finally rolls around, I drive my car to Emma’s after a quick breakfast that Kevin surprised me with -- to my surprise, he’d managed to make a decent eggs and toast without burning the place down -- so that I can help her get into her gown and more importantly so that she doesn’t run away, lest her mind goes in a frenzy at the thought of tying the knot.

“You’ll be fine,” I reassure her, teasing a few of her curls so that they slip down to her chest in a perfect wave. She looks stunningly beautiful, with her strapless white dress that shimmers with diamonds in the light with every movement she makes.

I reach out to smooth over her veil so that it falls on either side of her face, frames her perfectly, and notice her big brown eyes staring back at me through her vanity mirror.

“You look beautiful,” I can’t keep the awe from my voice.

Her face blossoms into a smile, “you too.”

“Ah come on, you can’t say that to me on your wedding day,” I shove her playfully on the shoulder, “you’re the star of the show. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

“Okay mom,” she rolls her eyes before changing the subject, “So, how have things been? With Kevin?” My hands freeze in mid-action, “It’s good.”

I don’t have to look at her to know that she’s giving me a pointed look.

I sigh, “well, okay. Maybe you’re right. About the whole…’just friends’ thing not being true.”

“Why?” she straightens up, turns to me, “what happened? Did you kiss? Did he make a move--”

“No we didn’t kiss,” I’m quick to answer as my cheeks heat up. And after a few beats of hesitation, I give her a summary; the way he’d looked at me that night with eyes that held so much in them that it had made my chest swell, the way that he’d snitch glances at me whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention, and the fact that he’d grabbed my hand and didn’t let go even long after the crowd wasn’t an issue anymore.

Emma’s eyes are wide and sparkling with a feeling that I know all too well, I can practically see the cogs turning in her head and quickly shook mine in rapid retaliation, “Emma, no.”

“But--But he’s perfect for you!” she bellows in protest, “What do you mean ‘no’?!”

“I can’t go there. Not after,...not now, it’s too soon…”

She rolls her eyes, “it’s not like he’s asking you to marry him, christ’s sake. He likes you, and I feel like you’re only trying to deprive yourself because you feel like it’s not right.”

“It’s not right--”

“Who says so?” she cuts me off then, her gaze hardening on mine with such intensity it takes everything in me not to flinch back, “who says it’s not right? It doesn’t matter if it’s after two days, two weeks, two months. You think I don’t know how it feels to be heartbroken? You can’t just keep thinking about the past. You’re going to hurt yourself that way.”

My teeth sink down onto my lower lip, her words like ice-cold knives aimed straight at my chest.

“What you can control, right now, is the present, Y/N.”

“I know,” I mumble out half-heartedly.

“I can see it, you know, the way he looks at you,” she shakes her head, “even if you don’t like him back, you gotta be aware of all that he’s done for you.”

Her hands find their way to mine, enclosing them in her grasp before squeezing them with such care that I can’t stop the tears crawling up the back of my throat.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs next, “I don’t want to pressure you if that’s not how you feel. That--That was not my intention,” her eyes latch onto mine, filled with understanding, “I just want you to be happy.”

Happy.

That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time.

“Don’t you dare cry now,” Emma says while waving her hands around in warning, “you’re going to ruin your makeup and we definitely don’t want that.”

I sniffle, trying my best to hold in the tears now brimming through my eyes, “you’re right,” I attempt to smile, albeit it’s wobbly, “we don’t.”

“Come here,” she tugs my arm so that I fall into her embrace. Her head finds her way to my shoulder and she hugs me tight, not caring that her veil is getting all bunched up and wrinkled, “you’ll be okay,” she whispers, one hand stroking my back, “you’ll be just fine, little one.”

Then, pulling back and pushing a few strands away from my face, she flashes a bright smile, “we should probably head to the church soon.”

----------

“We now declare you, Vincent and Emma, as husband and wife.”

The church explodes in a round of applause and I join in the clapping, furiously trying to keep the tears of joy at bay. Vincent has been there for Emma ever since they met at work and it has been the most beautiful love story ever since; filled with the purest kind of love no one can imagine. Beside me, I feel Kevin’s hand coming to squeeze my shoulder in a reassuring manner and I feel warm all over despite the rush of emotion in my heart.

The wedding reception is to take place at a fancy restaurant overlooking the harbourfront. Our family has booked the venue for the evening, and as I enter, I take in the baby blue veils that come down each corner of the restaurant, sprinkles of glitter here and there as we make our way to our assigned tables that each have a baby blue napkin shaped in swans.

I don’t even have time to place my butt down when I hear a voice call out, “Y/N! Look how big you’ve gotten!”

Of course, big wedding ceremonies only mean that we get to meet all of our extended family that we haven’t seen since forever, and they’re all too happy to chat with me about living overseas. Soon enough, I’m bustled off to a table and look back over my shoulder to mouth a quick “I’m sorry” to Kevin. Bless his soul, for he only smiles and shakes his head, his hand motioning for me to go on.

I manage to catch up with cousins I haven’t seen since I was a little girl, talk over appetizers with excited aunts who want to know all about how it feels like to live away from family for such a long time, and nod along to the old uncles trying to get me to give a concrete answer about when and where will my wedding take place.

“Come on Y/N! You’re the next one after Emma for sure,” one of my uncles bellow, face flushed red as a result of the glasses of wine he has downed like water. He is Emma’s father, no surprise that he’ll want to get drunk from happiness and pride. It is his daughter’s wedding after all.

He leans close with a conspiratorial look in his eyes, “so tell me,” his eyes glance over to Kevin, currently deep in conversation with another one of my distant aunts. I watch as he says something to make her laugh, and something inside my chest warms at the action, “is he the lucky guy that’s going to ask for your hand?”

“Do you think he’s the one?” another uncle pipes up.

I purse my lips and attempt to shrug, “it’s early days,” I try laughing it off although it sounds forced, “who knows what can happen.”

“He’s a good kid,” an aunt says, “you know how we all have this sixth sense? Well Y/N, I have a good feeling about this young man. Don’t let him go. Something tells me he’s a keeper.”

A wild imaginative speculation, considering that we’re not even dating. But I nod along and say that yes, I’ll tell them whenever I decide to tie the knot.

It’s only when the dance floor opens and people start pooling onto the dance floor after the first dance -- led by no other than the bride and groom themselves -- that I finally allow myself to breathe. I find my way back to my chair, back to Kevin’s warm smile flashing in my direction as his eyes take in the fatigue lining my face.

“You look like you could use a drink,” is the first thing he tells me the moment I plop my butt onto my designed seat, the one that’s been kept cold ever since I stepped foot into the dining hall.

I gratefully accept the glass of wine he offers me, swallowing it down in a few gulps, “thanks,” I sigh with relief, “I needed that.”

“How was catching up with family?”

“It couldn’t be as bad as being left behind,” I peer over at him, guilt flooding me at the prospect of having left him all alone, “sorry. It’s just that everyone--”

“Oh stop that,” Kevin nudges my shoulder with his, “don’t be sorry. It’s totally normal. I’m happy for you. And I wasn’t left behind. I had a wonderful time talking to your aunt. She seemed so happy to tell me what your childhood was like.”

“Bet you liked that, didn’t you?”

“Hey, it works as blackmail. Why wouldn’t I like that?”

“Dork.”

“You’re friends with this dork.”

“Oh piss off,” I slap his shoulder playfully in retaliation, causing him to laugh softly as we watch couples glide across the dance floor like swans over water. The lights have dimmed, the yellow hues now replaced by soft cool blues and purples that cause Emma’s dress to shimmer every time she turns. She’s absolutely stunningly beautiful, and the way she and Vincent are gazing at each other just scream of pure love that wraps around them in a golden mist so enchantingly beautiful that I find myself catching my breath in the back of my throat.

“She’s so beautiful,” the words fall from my mouth without meaning to, and I feel Kevin’s eyes on my face from the corner of my peripheral.

“You are too.”

I bite my lip and narrow my eyes at him playfully, “thanks, but why do I have a feeling that this isn’t a compliment?”

“It isn’t,” he holds my gaze, “it’s just the truth.”

Emotion lodges at the back of my throat. I stare at him. He stares back, a glimmer of tenderness echoing through the dark pools of black, his whole expression relaxed into a face that appears flooded with affection for--

Me.

For some reason, no words seem to come to me as I open my mouth and close it. Embarrassment slowly bubbles through my stomach. I look away, unable to contain the goosebumps suddenly exploding across the back of my neck with that same familiar uncomfortable sensation I keep getting around him these days. Like I’m standing atop a cliff and preparing myself to jump.

“Wanna dance?”

I blink in surprise, before turning to the said young man beside me who has his head cocked to the side with that same expression. My heart can’t help but squeeze inside my chest before I push down the rising protest searing through my brain.

I nod. And off we go onto the dance floor. His hands settle on my waist, mine atop his shoulders in a casual sling. There’s enough distance between our bodies to show that we’re not together and yet, I can’t deny that electrical tension that keeps on pulling me towards Kevin like a magnet. I wonder if he feels it too, that searing heat that is so palpable I can feel sweat break out from the back of my neck. Asking, though, would mean that I’m aware of what’s happening, asking would imply that I want something to happen.

Maybe I do.

Maybe I do want to grab life by the reins myself and steer it wherever I want it to go.

“What are you thinking about?”

I blink. Right up into Kevin’s brown orbs, his hair catching the shades of blue from the disco balls. My throat runs dry.

“Uh--” my mind tries to scramble for a response, any response, “just--uhm, it’s kind of like our last day here.”

He cocks his head, “sad?”

“Kinda. I like it here,” my eyes brush over Emma and Vincent’s forms in the vicinity, catch my grandma sitting at one of the tables, little cousins running all over the place. Then, I look back at the said young man gazing at me with that undecipherable look in his eyes that makes my heart sing, and try not to squirm as I continue softly, “it feels like home.”

“We can always come back,” he uses ‘we’ as though it’s now an adventure kept between the two of us, a secret to our own little neverland that nobody knows about. I can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Do you want to come back?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I want to come back. The views are amazing, the food is out of this world, and your family has been really kind to me.”

“I’m sorry, they are kind of overbearing when you first get to know them.”

“I love it,” Kevin says seriously, “I love that they’re overbearing. Couldn’t have asked for anything more.”

If I had any doubts, the sincerity dripping from his eyes is enough to wipe out any suspicions left from his compliment. The sudden urge to hug him rocks through me and my hands fist on the back of his shirt in response.

We keep on dancing silently, bobbing from one foot to another for a few minutes more before he speaks up softly.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I wouldn't mind getting married here.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “really now?”

“Yup,” he grins, “really.”

“Your future wife will have me to thank for that.”

“Maybe my future wife won’t have to thank you.”

There it is. That same borderline flirting that’s been happening for days on end.

“And why is that?” I probe, partly just to tease him, and partly because I just want to know.

“Maybe she might be right here, in this room.”

“Didn’t know you were into one of my cousins,” I start looking around the room, only for one of his hands to cup my cheek to turn my face back to his.

There is none of that teasing glimmer now. His eyes are darker, gazing down at me with such emotion that the breath catches in the back of my throat and the air halts in my lungs. We gaze at each other for a few beats longer, before I feel his thumb graze my cheek. Gently, so gently like he’d stroke a flower petal.

Swallowing at the heat of his hand cupping the side of my face, my hands unconsciously tighten on the back of his neck. He senses my nervousness, but only pulls me slightly closer so that we are mere millimeters from each other, noses hovering over each other in a space that causes my heart to stutter inside my chest.

When he opens his mouth next, his alto is hoarse, pent-up with emotion.

“I wasn’t talking about your cousins.”

My heart practically jumps to my throat, teeth biting onto my lip.

I can’t hear the music, nor the people. I can’t hear anything except for my pounding heart and Kevin’s soft breaths washing over my face.

His eyes search mine and we hold gazes for a moment too long.

“Y/N?”

I press my lips together, “Y-Yes?”

He moves even closer then so that his nose brushes mine in the most intimate of ways.

“I--”

“Y/N! I was looking all over for you!”

We spring apart like we just got burnt just in time for one of my cousins to grab onto my arm. He sends an apologetic smile at Kevin, before explaining, “we just need to sort out the takeaways. She’ll be back in a second!”

And without listening to my protests, he proceeds to drag me away from the said young man on the dancefloor. I look back, mouthing an ‘I’m sorry” once more -- it’s the second time that night!-- and see the raven-haired man laugh good-naturedly before shaking his head and waving me away. That does nothing to keep my heart from cartwheeling out of my chest, swelling up with such affection that I grin back despite the earlier predicament.

One thing’s for sure: I’m not done talking with Kevin Moon yet.

----------

I find him sitting alone in the tiny garden that overlooks the decorated pavillon a few hours later. His figure, illuminated by the soft yellow hues of interior light, seems to glow in the dark, the moon bouncing off his hair and catching the strength of his cheekbone when he turns and catches me staring. He only smiles though -- that beautiful tender smile that I keep seeing more and more these days -- before waving me over.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” I ask as I reach his figure. A soft breeze dances along the back of my spine, cool in contrast to the warm stickiness of the air.

“Your smaller cousin was showing me what she’d learnt in astronomy at her school,” he tilts his head up at the sky, “she’s quite the prodigy at that.”

“The next woman to land on the moon,” I joke.

“Jeez, I should get her autograph.”

“Wise idea,” that’s when I feel his hand slip into mine and I look down at him, blinking. He grins a little shyly, before tugging me forward so that I all but stumble right into him, halfway sprawled across his lap.

Heat explodes through my chest at the proximity of our bodies and I can’t help but avert my gaze from his, partly embarrassed that maybe there might be someone around to see, and partly because it’s only recently that I’ve started seeing Kevin in a new light that being so close makes my heart choke up and my mind to run blank.

We’re close. So close I feel his breath mingle with mine. My hands settle atop his chest lightly, “Kev,” I breathe out but nothing follows, too scared to verbally voice out what is going on for fear that it might all crumble into nothing.

I don’t want false hope. I also don’t want his heart -- or mine -- to break.

This friendship is too precious to let go. I can’t imagine a life without Kevin in it.

“Listen Y/N,” Kevin’s voice is soft, a hushed murmur resonating through his chest as his eyes search mine, “I think we both know what’s happening here.”

I nod mutely.

Taking a shaky breath, he continues, “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you. I know it’s been tough and that you’re still healing. I just--I just want to know.”

As his words wash over me as gently as the forest leaves rustling around us, I feel the warmth of his hand cupping my cheek, holding me like I am fine china and stroking my skin with his thumb so that butterflies suddenly rush along my middle.

I bite my lip so hard I can taste blood, " I-- well, I think you already know how I feel."

"I know," he breathes, "but I need to hear it from you."

As if it isn't hard enough to come face to face with my own feelings, having Kevin stare me down as though I put the moon in his sky makes me want to squirm with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.

“I like you,” I blurt out then, “a lot.”

There is a few seconds delay, before a shit-- eating grin --the biggest I’ve ever seen -- spreads across Kevin’s face like sunshine peeking through the clouds.

“Enough for us to go on a date?”

I nod mutely. I don’t trust my voice, not right now when I already feel so pathetic. Kevin’s grin softens into a tender smile, one that I can’t help but return when our eyes meet in the most intimate of ways. Suddenly, the air feels charged and alive with electricity, the heat between our bodies palpable as his hand moves to the back of my neck.

He tugs. I follow.

His lips find mine mid-way in a delicate kiss.

It’s soft. Softer than any kiss I’ve ever had. Kevin’s mouth parts over my own in a gentle caress, before he tilts his head to the side and captures my lower lip between his.

I gasp slightly at the contact, hands unconsciously tightening around his neck.

Slowly leaning away, I notice the film of lust like a dull glow at the back of his maroon orbs, just the slightest hint that he wants me as a woman. And that makes my lungs constrict, air suddenly halting in the back of my throat.

My skin is prickling with the aftermath of his touch. I let out a soft breath before he covers my mouth with his once more and all thoughts fly out of my brain the moment he does.

I don’t really know how long we spend outside, exchanging the softest of kisses underneath the moonlight, until I hear the soft exclamations of my family’s voices suggesting that it is time to head home. So I part from the said man and can’t help but blush at the lack of space between our bodies.

“We should probably head back,” I hate how wanton I sound, like I’ve just sprinted a mile when in truth I’ve been sitting in this very spot for the last hour.

He agrees and I descend from his lap, his hand subtly finding mine as we walk back to the wedding hall.

Emma is still saying her goodbyes, her hair now dotted with glitter, probably from the decorations that my younger cousins took pleasure in bathing her in. Her face lights up as soon as she spots our entwined hands and I try not to meet her eyes for I know exactly the kind of smug look she'll be giving me.

"Enjoyed the wedding?" She says as soon as we're within earshot.

"That must've been the best cake I've had in my life," Kevin lets out a dramatic sigh, "and that says something."

"Do I trust your taste buds though?" She teases.

"I'd be offended if you didn't," he gasped in mock offense, before they both break into playful chuckles.

As we exchange our goodbyes and Vincent engages Kevin in a conversation, Emma takes this chance to drag me to her side as she whispers, "so you gonna tell me the tea or am I going to have to extract it from you?"

I press my lips together as I try to control the heat searing through the back of my neck, "...we kissed."

She gasps, "No way! OH MY GOD! Are you guys a thing then?!" The answer is as clear as water on my face and she clamps a hand over her mouth, would've jumped up and down if she could've, "OH MY, OH MY GOD. I knew it! I just knew this was going to happen--"

"Shut up!" I hiss, scared that Kevin might overhear and think I'm a big fat tattle tale. My eyes quickly swivel over to his and I'm glad to find his head bent towards Vincent in concentration.

"You need to tell me everything," Emma's eyes are sparkling, "like--as soon as you have some free time."

"You--" I send her a pointed look, then jerk my head at Vincent, "--need to tell me everything."

"Oh I will, don't worry."

"Anyway, I'll talk to you after your honeymoon."

"Okay," I turn around to find Kevin, not failing to notice the smirk playing on Emma's lips. I slap her arm in response, causing her to laugh before she calls out:

"Don't forget to use protection!"

-----------

"We'll come back right?"

That's the first thing that Kevin states as soon as we step inside security, away from the tears of my family that I just left behind a few seconds ago. My heart still aches when I think of their faces, all crumpled and blinking at me with tissues in hand and noses as red as traffic lights. But I seek comfort upon feeling Kevin's hand slip through mine as we walk towards our destined gate.

"Sure," I look at him; at his red-tinted cheeks (probably the aftermath of a sunburn), his newly tanned skin a fresh contrast against his white shirt, and the permanent grin that seems impossible to wipe off his face. My heart instantly flutters.

It's only been a few days since we've confessed our growing romantic interest in each other, but I can already feel the weight of his love pouring out of his heart and into mine the moment he realized that my arms would be there to catch him when he fell.

"I'm not going to wake up to an empty bed tomorrow morning, am I?" He’d joked when we stumbled, half-asleep, into Emma's flat after the wedding.

I frowned at him, "Why would you think that?"

"Just in case you think that kissing me was a mistake."

A small pause ensued, in which I realized that despite all my fears and all the pain I had been carrying in my heart ever since we landed on my motherland, I had not once considered how Kevin might be feeling at this very moment.

My eyes quickly took note of his countenance, sweeping right up to his face only to notice the flash of vulnerability in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth were tense, cheekbones taught against his skin as he awaited for my answer with baited breath.

Clearing my throat, I whispered, "it wasn't."

A soft smile tugged at his lips, "good to know."

His answer seemed so genuine, so wholehearted that my chest tightened in a mixture of gratefulness and affection, so much so that my arms automatically reached for him to tug him close. My nose found its rightful place at his neck and I breathed in his comforting lilac smell that I enjoyed so much.

I felt him take a breath. Then, softly, a hand caressed the back of my head. I buried even closer if that was possible.

"I really want this to work," my words were a muffled mess and I was surprised that he understood.

"Me too," he murmured into my hair, "and it will work. I promise I won't break your heart Y/N."

Looking back now at this tender moment in which we both weren't certain of where we were stepping, I can't help but laugh at the thought, for now the love and attraction is so natural I'm amazed it has taken this long to flourish.

Maybe I hadn't been looking the right way. Maybe I had been searching so far out and wide that I hadn't noticed that my safe harbour is the one standing right beside me.

"Hey Kevin," I call out.

Kevin turns towards me, where he'd been watching planes take off from the ground into the gorgeously blue sunny sky.

"Yeah?"

“I’m really glad you came.”

There's a few beats of silence although his mouth immediately cracks into that gorgeous, crooked grin of his that I adore so much.

“Me too.”

----

264 notes · View notes

starculler · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021: Day 6

Word Count: 2271 || Read on AO3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Emotional Hurt

No violence. Only ✨emotions✨

Obi-Wan woke in a room not his own with the smell of blaster-fire and charred flesh in his nose, tasting it on his tongue so clearly that it nearly made him sick. He exhaled one long, slow breath that did nothing to purge the lingering traces of his nightmares, and opened his eyes to thick, black darkness. His brows furrowed, frowning as he struggled to clear the sleep-haze from his mind, a task that had grown considerably harder over the years. He spared a brief, token effort on remembering what he might have done, or where he’d gone, the day before to find himself in a stranger’s home, but only shrugged it off when nothing came to mind.

Perhaps, he mused with only a touch of sardonic humor, the suns’ heat had finally gotten to him and he’d broken into some poor farmer’s home. Whose, he hadn’t the faintest idea considering he only really visited one and this was, most certainly, not the Lars’ farmstead. He would know, he’d been inside once after all — a week spent in a guest room as he’d delivered little Luke to his aunt and uncle. Any subsequent visits had been … difficult.

Luke looked so much like his father sometimes.

He sighed, shoving the thought forcefully away, and focused once more on the room, straining see a little better. The walls, he noticed first, were bare except for a few occupied shelves whose contents he couldn’t even begin to guess at. A single window peered out into the world, tinted black by a light-blocking feature he remembered using … Before. The floor was much the same: spartan, with only a low table in one corner with a cushion to sit on and the bland bed roll he’d woken on. A bitter tang of nostalgia crawled up his throat, lodging there like a bottle’s stopper, and he struggled to swallow around it.

Shoving that away too, he clambered inelegantly to his feet — noticed he still wore the rattier robe and tunics he hadn’t been able to bring himself to eschew along with everything else — and made his way to the room’s singular exit. The door opened with barely a brush of his palm over the panel next to it. He made to move out into the home proper with a steadying hand laid on the frame’s cool metal. And froze.

“Anakin?”

His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, almost too soft to carry across the larger living space to the spitting image of the little boy he’d raised, failed, and left behind, burning on a bank of churning magma on Mustafar. He couldn’t breathe, lungs seizing and stuttering as they refused to work. He gripped the door’s frame harder, knuckles white and fingers little more than pricks of insignificant pain where they dug into the sharper edges. Anakin’s screaming roared in his ears, violent hatred and pain alike with faint echoes of the single plea he’d let slip from his lips somewhere in between before Obi-Wan had turned his back and waled away.

Anakin — oh Force it was Anakin — twisted around on his cushion, one hand braced on the long, low table in front oh him while the other lay flat on the floor, when he heard his name called. Obi-Wan’s gaze caught on his Padawan-braid, so short still that it barely brushed the boy’s — a boy. He was just a boy now, younger than twelve and a picture-perfect replica of the child who lived only in Obi-Wan’s memories and Luke’s shadow — shoulder.

“Master!” Anakin flashed him a bright grin, his blue eyes practically glittering with the strength of his joy. “You’re awake! Finally,” he said, excitement turning to a familiar teasing tone that tore Obi-Wan’s heart to shreds. “I almost thought you’d sleep for forever, and then who’d help with my lessons?”

The boy’s nose scrunched, his distaste for his lessons made clear in the way the word dropped from his mouth like a particularly foul piece of rotted food. Obi-Wan swayed where he stood, mouth suddenly drier than Tatooine’s desert as he stared. Then, faintly and feeling all too much like the very words he spoke had stolen free from him without permission, he said:

“Master Windu would, he’s told me so many times himself. He does so enjoy your company.”

It was a joke, one of several he’d indulged in often after having noticed Anakin’s distrust of the Council. A reassurance as much as something to make the boy laugh. Mace Windu had never told him he’d help with any of Anakin’s lessons, but Obi-Wan had never once seen the Master turn a youngling down when they asked him for help. Oh, he thought with a painful pang in his chest, Mace had loved the younglings, from the tiniest initiates in the Crèches all the way to the padawans, no matter what his severe countenance might have portrayed. He’d tried so hard to show that to Anakin, to teach him that Jedi — even and especially the Council — were, at their core, kind and compassionate. Had his Padawan ever truly known that, or was it another failure to be laid at Obi-Wan’s feet?

Anakin scoffed and rolled his eyes, still grinning. “Yeah, and I’m a heard of Bantha,” he said with a snicker. Obi-Wan’s mouth twitched despite how he wanted to be sick.

“You certainly smell like one,” Obi-Wan replied by rote, more of a murmur than the steady sarcasm he’d once thrown at his Padawan. Anakin squawked regardless, all faux-offense as he puffed himself up for a comeback, but deflated suddenly to squint at him instead.

“Are you feeling alright? You look…” Anakin floudered for a moment and settled on a bland, hesitant, “not good.”

“I,” Obi-Wan started. Stopped. Swallowed. “No,” He admitted, slow. Reluctant. “No, Padawan, I don’t think I am.”

The trembling in his hands hadn’t stopped and his chest still hurt and his stomach had managed to twist itself into nauseating knots as he stood there, still in the open doorway to the room, he realized, that had once been his at the Temple. Anakin’s eyes widened and he shot to his feet, anxiety flowing off him in sharp, erratic waves that only further soured the bitter, ashen taste in Obi-Wan’s mouth.

“Do you need a healer? Are you hurt? Kriff, uh, should I— I mean— I’ll go grab someone, Master, I’ll be right back, okay? Real quick, I—”

“No!” Obi-Wan winced. He hadn’t meant to shout. Hadn’t meant to put that hurt, wide-eyed look on his Padawan’s face. He’d just —

Obi-Wan watched Anakin’s familiar, blue lightsaber cut through another Jedi, horror curdling in his stomach. It was all he could do not to be sick, but he forced himself to continue looking at the security feed Master Yoda had found. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t be blind to this any more than he could turn back time and undo it. So he watched, ill, as his former Padawan, his friend, his brother, cut down Jedi after Padawan after Initiate until none at all remained in the place they had both called home.

“No,” he croaked, softer, blinking back the stinging heat in his eyes. He lifted the hand not helping keep him upright, clammy and shaking much more obviously than before, and made as if to reach out but stopped short. “No,” he said again, so low he barely heard himself, pulling his hand back to clutch at the fabric over his chest and wondered if he’d suffocate on his feet.

“Master?”

Anakin sounded so scared even as he took a tentative step forward, his hands fisted into the hem of his tunic. Obi-Wan wanted to rush to his side, to comfort him as he’d once done so many years ago. He wanted to run, to flee from the face of this apparition — the ghost of a boy who’d chosen to become a monster because he’d failed as a Master. He wanted to fall to his knees and weep: for this boy, for himself, for the scores of Jedi massacred to mark the end of an unjust war. For the galaxy being crushed under a Sith’s oppressive thumb. For the children of his former student, who would be called upon one day. Who would lose friends and family alike as they worked to dismantle the bloody legacy left to them.

He almost didn’t notice when his legs gave out, choking on his own ragged, wet breaths as Anakin cried out, alarmed, and ran to his side. Obi-Wan flinched away from those small, calloused hands when they reached for him, curling into himself as he struggled to breathe, but his Padawan was nothing if not determined.

He gasped when Anakin’s fingers brushed his arm, searing his skin through three layers of worn fabric. Whined when they traveled up to his shoulder, and hissed, a pained and wounded sound torn from him when Anakin pressed the palm of his hand to the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. Slowly, with a care he’d rarely seen in his Padawan, Anakin maneuvered himself in front of him, hunched and twisting as the hand on Obi-Wan’s neck pulled until he’d knocked their foreheads together.

How long had it been since he’d sat so near another sentient being he trusted? Since he’d been touched so familiarly? Kindly? Luke, perhaps. Little more than a toddler, freely affectionate with the man who’d carried him across the stars and sands to the home he’d remain in.

Obi-Wan didn’t settle. Didn’t calm. His breathing hitched and every inch of him shook so hard he thought his bones might rattle right out of his skin. The stinging bite of fresh tears lingered in his eyes and every limb was weighed down with the same deep exhaustion that had dogged him since he’d left Luke with the Lars’ and lost the only source of immediate responsibility he might have distracted himself with. He did, however, reach forward. Brushed his fingers over the front of Anakin’s tunic and felt the rough material, caustic and abrasive against the suddenly sensitive digits.

“Are you—” Obi-Wan swallowed painfully, his own saliva turning to grains of coarse sand. “Is this real?” he asked, whisper soft and broken. “Are you real, Anakin?” His padawan pressed harder against him in response, puffing out an incredulous breath.

Obi-Wan wondered if he’d melt from the heat of his brother-friend-Padawan’s touch, as skin-crawling as it was a burning, aching comfort for all it seemed to set him further on edge.

“I’m real,” Anakin said, voice strangled. Obi-Wan could taste his fear. Felt it soak into his skin and curl around his heart. “I’m real, Master, I promise. I’m here. I’m real.”

“Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s voice cracked on the name as a sudden desperation washed over him, urging him to reach out further. To pull and clutch and hold his Padawan as close as he could, breathing raggedly against his short, brown hair as Anakin hid his own face against his neck, letting a few tears soak into the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic. He rocked them both, letting Anakin hold on to him as to him as fiercely as he did his Padawan.

An eternity might have passed there between them as Anakin cried and Obi-Wan babbled — apologies and reassurance and a half dozen other words he’d meant to tell his Padawan over the years tumbling clumsily from his tongue — until the intensity eased, leaving them tired and tangled up together against the room’s cool wall. Obi-Wan let his eyes slip closed, just for a moment. Let himself soak in his brother’s presence, young and bright and much too old to be held like this, half asleep and slumped over him. But he didn’t let go.

He brushed his fingers over Anakin’s hair, short and bristly except for the bundle tied back into a short nerftail, and breathed in the citrus scent of the hair products his Padawan had favored those first few years in the Temple. Leaning his head back against the wall, he let himself drift into his thoughts. Into the Force. Out past the confines of the room, through the halls, and across the Temple, jaw clenching as he felt the bright, living presence of hundreds of Jedi. Thousands. So many his head spun.

His breathing hitched, and he wrapped his arms a fraction tighter around his Padawan. Strained to squeeze his eyes closed harder until he saw blurry, red shapes dance across the darkness behind his lids.

It felt so real.

This. His Padawan. The sights, smells, sounds, even the taste of the Temple’s chill air. Anakin had said he was real. Obi-Wan had squeezed him, had him currently in his arms safe and close and whole. He shuddered, exhaling a wavering, wet breath.

Perhaps, he let himself hope as he drew back to himself, it had been a vision. A warning from the Force — a life lived in the span of a few hours’ sleep. He let the thought comfort him, burying his nose in his Padawan’s hair as sleep slowly claimed him.

Obi-Wan woke in a room he recognized, the sweet, tangy scent of citrus thick in his nose, so vivid he could practically taste it. He exhaled one long, slow breath, letting himself savor it for a moment longer, and opened his eyes to bright light, sandy-colored walls, and the sweltering, suffocating heat of Tatooine’s long, dry days. His fingers curled into the rough, thin, ragged bedroll he’d all but tossed himself into the night before. Alone. Utterly and completely alone.

For the first time since his family were slaughtered at the hands of his student,

Obi-Wan wept.

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #touch starved #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #fic #emotional distress #my fanfic

14 notes · View notes

skellebonez · 4 years

Note

"Thought I told you to stay by my side, eh?" and "Now, before you get upset, I didn’t lie to you. I just…failed to mention it." This, in Winterpower's 'Extended Family AU', about MK finding out about his MILLION OLDER SIBLINGS XD

Once again I am throwing in my own OC, Mingli, because I cannot resist! Imagine how hectic these family get togethers can get. They’d be pure chaos.

"Thought I told you to stay by my side, eh?"/ "Now, before you get upset, I didn’t lie to you. I just…failed to mention it.”

"Thought I told you to stay by my side, eh?" Mingli laughed out as he pulled MK from the sudden pile of siblings (and some young cousins and nieces and nephews who all belongs to said siblings) who had latched onto him. “You’re likely to get lost in the sea of sibs! Sorry, all, the baby’s coming with me for a bit!”

There was a resounding chorus of “aw man”s and “come on it’s our turn!”s as he popped the other man back onto the ground before Sun Wukong jumped up behind them all.

“Who wants to hang out with your uncle in the meanti-AGH!” Wukong didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he was promptly pounced on, laughing all the way down to the ground as he was buried in hugs.

Mingli laughed and guided MK via a hand on his back to an uninhabited portion of the field turned small festival that was housing the impromptu sort of reunion for the adopted kids of Zhu Bajie (and even more extended family). Not everyone could be there, but everyone who could answer the short notice message had come as quickly as they could. There were at the very least 150 people here, if not nearly 200 by MK’s count.

It was...

“A lot, huh?” Mingli asked as he bopped his forehead with a can of a cold drink, handing it out to him once his attention was gained back. “I thought you were getting a tad bit overwhelmed back there.”

“I’m more worried about Monkey King...” MK muttered as he watched his mentor zip around the field with 2 tiny kids hanging off each arm. “Normally he stays far away from more than like... any more than a single other person.”

“Guy really likes kids, apparently,” Mingli responded as he gulped down his own beverage. “Guess that one thing he and dad always had in common. He should be fine for a bit, dad said he’s free to fly off if it gets too much.”

“Yeah, speaking of dad,” MK glared over at the older man. “You knew me for 2 weeks and just. Never thought to say ‘hey Monkie Kid, thanks for the save, by the way I’m your BROTHER’!?”

"Now, before you get upset, I didn’t lie to you. I just…failed to mention it,” the Water Deer demon defended, clearly holding back a chuckle and looking off to the side as he stuck his tongue out in between his full fang and broken fang.

“Don’t try to act goofy to get out of this, I’m still angry!” MK pouted, chugging the rest of his drink and tossing the empty can in Mingli’s general direction and missing entirely.

“Wow, dude... that’s impressively bad aim.”

“I missed you by like 1 centimeter, that barely even counts!” MK groaned, getting up and tossing the can into a nearby trash bin. “OK, maybe I’m not actually angry. But I’d like to get to know you more. And everyone else.”

“Well, I’m definitely open for questions, shoot away! Ask me anything you want.”

MK looked over his youngest elder brother (by adoption time) and frowned, thinking of a question. “How old were you when Pigsy took you in?”

“I think I was around 14,” Mingli started, grabbing a snack from the table behind him to hold out for MK. “Maybe 15, my actual age is a bit of a guess job. He found me when I ran off from one of my foster families after we had a fight about my ear piercings.”

Pigsy watched the two men talk and Wukong entertain his grand-kids from right next to Tang, unable to keep the smile off his face. It’d been so long since so many members of his family were together... they needed to do this a bit more often.

59 notes · View notes

quitealotofsodapop · 1 year

Note

¿Y entonces como fue el adaptarse Chenxiang a la familia? ¿Cómo se lleva con cada miembro del grupo? ¿y tiene algún trabajo?

Translated via Google:

"And then how was Chenxiang adapting to the family? How do you get along with each member of the group? And does she have a job?"

ok... I won't spoil too much of what I have planned for Chenxiang regarding this au; but the most important detail between him and Sun Wukong? Their last meeting Did Not Go Well:

youtube

(imagine Athena as post-JttW/pre-fic SWK).

The story of the boy cleaving a mountain open to retrieve his former-goddess mother did not just end with a joyful reunion and a humbled uncle. One of the core concepts of the Lotus Lantern is the repeat of history, and how trauma can extend through generations. There is not only a repeat of a Erlang Shen's own childhood fable: but one of an angry young man wanting to rage war on Heaven, and his subsequent disastrous failure.

When the boy comes back into Sun Wukong's life by the time of "The Monkey King and The Infant"; the Monkey King is extremely relieved but conflicted. Chenxiang was his first ever and only student. But he's also a living example of how Wukong failed as a teacher. It takes a lot of healing between the two souls before they become comfortable enough to interact on friendly terms. Much later, they share a boisterous father-and-son/teacher-and-student similar but different to what they once had.

Chenxiang is very conflicted about Macaque. The shadow monkey's dark hair and parental nature; painfully reminds him of his own deceased mother. He runs away crying the first few times he accidentally calls Macaque "mama/bama". As he settles in however, he quickly becomes very attached to Macaque, helping him at the threatre and with daily chores. Even violently protective of him.

He is very protective of MK, Mei, and Bai He, as he sees them as being so much weaker/vunerable than him or Nezha. He can be overbearing and panicky with any changes to their lives. Nezha and him are thick as fiends, and share a close brotherly bond - although Chenxiang frequently forgets that Nezha is an immortal god, and worries for his mortal safety.

The reincarnation trio (Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy) try their best to help steer Chenxiang towards mindfullness and to not be overwhelmed by the new world he's in. Pigsy gives good advice for handling anger issues. Tang shares stories that Chenxiang missed in his many years gone. Sandy is the best for helping with anxiety episodes; making Chenxiang tea and letting him stay and cuddle the therapy cats.

Chenxiang does have a job! He's a florist. In some versions of the Lotus Lantern he and his mother were lotus farmers. In the modern day it translates to an amazing green thumb and ability to tend to plants of all kinds. Chenxiang has very weak water and plant magic; meaning that he can tell when any kind of plant isn't doing so well, and is able to heal sick plants.

He can still summon his axe and the lantern. The axe he hopes never to use again.

How he exactly joins the family is a bit more complicated. It involves another conspiracy in Heaven, and a pair of lanterns coming into contact.

#the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #lmk au #lmk liu chenxiang #liu chenxiang #liu chen xiang #the lotus lantern #lmk shadowpeach au #dad sun wukong #dad macaque #momcaque

28 notes · View notes

chrisjake-cp · 3 years

Text

History 3 Trapped Filming Diary (full English translation) - Days 41-50

Masterpost here.

I don’t own the book so I can’t post my scans of the pictures that came with it. So I included some other pictures of the scenes that were being filmed. These pics belong to LINE TV or Choco Media, or I’ve taken screenshots from the episodes or the behind-the-scenes.

Read days 41-50 under the cut.

Day 41

On this day of shooting it happened to be Christmas, and the crew, waiting for the evening shooting process, enjoyed a Christmas gift exchange. Shaofei gave out a book; according to him it was a very inspirational book. A crew member who does hair and make-overs nearby opened it and laughed jokingly: “What kind of ‘inspiration’ do you mean?”, causing Shaofei’s thoughts to immediately go into another direction to the point of him not even being able to say it out loud (I can tell you: he was very bashful!). The whole crew also acknowledged that the most creative gift was a big bunch of green onions⁕ from Sanxing. When this present was opened the whole crew burst out in crazy laughter, but it need also be said that this was a most memorable gift.

⁕ Sanxing is famous for its spring onions! They even have a little museum dedicated to green onions there.

Also, what kind of book did Jake gift someone? 👀

Day 42

The day after Christmas, Boss Tang arrived at work, and the first thing he did was accept his gift from the Christmas gift exchange from the day before. So what did Boss Tang receive?

*ding ding* The answer is 20 Christmas trees and a bottle of “Indian Spiritual Oil”⁕ At the appearance of this gift, everyone nearby immediately laughed loudly, and I also silently expressed my heartfelt wishes for Tang Yi’s and Meng Shaofei’s happiness.

For today’s scenes, basically the whole ‘world’ had to be there: Unit 3, Tang Yi, A De, Hong Ye, Daoyi and Jingtang were all present, so the set was really lively. What was shot that day were the scenes after Hongye and Shaofei were injured in the parking lot. In order to increase the conflictual character of these scenes, the director assigned each actor their own, individual combination. What was interesting is that during rehearsals, the cameramen all quickly approached the actors like a large quantity of reporters. A De said smiling that the group of people was so large that it looked like an oncoming tank and he could only silently take the ‘card position’⁕ each time.

⁕ This oil is basically like viagra...but topical instead of taking a pill....It’s a natural plant oil but it contains some anaesthetics which will irritate the skin a bit (making your you-know-what more erect as it grows hot) and the anaesthetics will also cause you to last longer. Ahem. Let’s all imagine Chris receiving this gift. 😂

⁕ The card position comes from a basketball or football game. It means that during the game, when the ball is in the air, the player accurately judges the effective landing point of the ball, takes the lead in the opponent's position, and blocks the opponent out of the best position to gain control. Here it means that Stanley just chose the best position to gain control/the upper hand in the scene.

Day 43

Today we continued to shoot the hospital scenes. Shaofei said smiling that today was another aptly-named day of “earning money while lying down,” as he was lying down from the first scene in the morning to the last scene in the evening. After several consecutive days of intensive shooting, the hospital scenes were back in Taoyuan. Shaofei said he had been getting out of bed at 4am in the morning for several days in a row, and that day was no exception. So during the moments when he wasn’t in the shots, he could openly but stealthily catch up on some sleep in the bed, which made everyone present pretty envious.

Zhaozi just gets better the more he acts. Just look at his slightly wrinkled brows.

Day 44

In the last episode, Zhaozi took Tang Yi to see Shaofei [in the hospital] for the last time. Tang Yi, who had carelessly pulled the trigger and accidentally shot Shaofei was already handcuffed. He told Shaofei he would hand He Hang as well as Zhou Guanzhi over to the police. Zhou Guanzhi was the enemy who killed his father. In these past four years, Tang Yi’s biggest goal was to single-handedly murder his father’s killer. For Tang Yi to now agree to let Zhou Guanzhi live and to hand him over to the police, meant Tang Yi had made the ultimate concession.

Because he had persisted in his revenge, he had caused his lover to be hospitalized with a gunshot. Since meeting Tang Yi, Shaofei had been assaulted in big and small ways, and suffered injuries because of him. Tang Yi discovered that his stubbornly insisting on having his own way was a big factor in Shaofei getting hurt. If this continued, Shaofei would one day be ‘killed’ by Tang Yi. Kept apart by handcuffs, kissing your lover like that; what kind of plot could be more cruel than that?

Tang Yi, even while being handcuffed, was very witty/playful. He didn’t forget to stick his tongue out to the camera.

Day 45

Long time no see! I believe that people who have watched <Right Or Wrong< should not be too unfamiliar with Dr. Jintang’s “uncle-in-law” Jiang Zhaopeng. He is Qiu Zhiyu whom we haven’t seen for a while. Before filming, these two cultivated their understanding of their lines by videochatting [i.e. they practiced their lines] (and also cultivated the signals between both of their phones). One of the most frightening things in filming is the screen of a cellphone. Apart from this scene, the drama shows many different mobile phone screens; every time a call had to be made, or when a LINE conversation happened, etc. Only, whether or not the signal would be good, is an element that no one can control. If the signal is not good, phone calls won’t go through, or the moment when the phone rings doesn’t match the plot. Sometimes it can take a good number of takes, not to mention that this scene needed a video call. If the signal would not be good, the video and the sound might have been chopped. But we had a close call and the signal in the hospital was very stable, allowing us to be able to smoothly complete the take.

Zijian, who portrays Jiang Jintang, has a lively and witty personality. He would often say crazy things that amused the crew. In the evening, we filmed that Shaofei followed Tang Yi to the hospital to see Jintang [the massage scene]. Jintang wanted to angrily quarrel with Meng Shaofei, because he didn’t expect them to arrive together. His red face, his hard breathing and his stammering made all the staff on the scene instantly almost collapse from laughter. Even Shaofei, who was doing the scene with him, and Tang Yi, who was lying down behind them, couldn’t keep in their laughter.

At another rehearsal, Jintang was planning to jump on Tang Yi’s back, but because he hadn’t well coordinated his position, Boss Tang’s knees hit Jintang straight in his ‘important parts’. The staff who were on the scene jokingly told him to jump on the spot, and he actually did it. This was also a ‘pain in the balls.’⁕

⁕ Same expression was used in day 37. It’s more literal here. You can see this happening in the behind-the-scenes.

Day 46

Today we filmed father and son Chen Wenhao and Tang Yi meeting in front of Lizhen’s grave. The weather at the cemetery site was very unstable. Sometimes an uninterrupted drizzle floated by, and at other times wind and rain became quite strong. Occasionally, the sun would stealthily sneak out from the clouds to join in on the fun, adding many changes to the shooting. But the two actors were not in the slightest affected by these elements. As if their surroundings were all congealed together, the two looked at each other and cried really heart-wrenchingly. Afterwards, Chengyang [Chris] also frankly admitted that for this scene his mood was very complex, and it was very hard on him. Tang Yi stood in front of his biological mother’s tomb, and his biological father, whom he once thought to be her killer, walked up to him. At that moment, that kind of “crying” already wasn't just tears simply shed from sadness anymore.

When he heard the gunshot as he exited the graveyard without even looking back, Chris said that his heart was really hurting so much that he almost couldn’t go on.

A big thank you to teacher Jiakui, who plays Wenhao, to give [Chris] ample ability, and to push him beyond the limits of what he could do. What is even more special, is that today was, coincidentally, also Chris’ birthday. To shoot such a meaningful scene on his birthday and falling apart crying like that, really must have left a deep impression on him.

Day 47

The day when the entire Unit 3 team got together, happened to be the very last day of 2018. Today’s MVP was Junwei [played by Ethan Liu]. Everyone most likely knows about the meeting between Unit 3 and the international criminal police division where Junwei was tasked with reporting duties.

That day Junwei was constantly drilling and rehearsing, because all his lines needed to be correctly and fluently spoken for that role to be acted out well. One of the biggest causes for stress is that when you start failing takes, the whole crew and all the actors are just waiting. One can imagine that that is a very big pressure.

Originally everyone joked and said that before noon they would surely be able to go home to celebrate the New Year, but in the end, it took until in the afternoon for the first scene to finish smoothly and everyone on Unit 3 could begin to plan how they would spend New Year’s Eve. But our poor Captain and Shaofei had to stay behind to continue the next scene. Shaofei felt wronged and said to Zhaozi: “Where is the morality in him [the captain] being so happy?”

Day 48

Outside it was drizzling, but inside, the room was brimming with nervous energy as Tang Yi took Jack to negotiate with Old Ke, while Shaofei from his side and Unit 3 rushed inside as an important step and wiped out the place.⁕

While waiting for their scenes, each of the Unit 3 were doing their own activities. First Shaofei looked for a quiet place in the room and silently sat reading the script for the future scenes. With his usual style, he would use differently coloured pens to write down dialogue that belongs to Jake and Shaofei.⁕ Zhaozi, in turn, would be lying on the very big bed inside the room, and would both be talking to Junwei, having a pillow fight with Jack and taking selfies with his cellphone.

And how did Tang Yi spend the time waiting for his next scene? The answer is that he had rolled himself up in a quilt and fell into a deep sleep. No matter if Shaofei would loudly yell, “Where is Tang Yi?” outside the room, Tang Yi slept through it all.

⁕ The very first scenes of the whole show, when Shaofei and his team barges through the door! Some of the very first words we ever hear coming out of Shaofei’s mouth are “Where is Tang Yi?” MY HEART. This show is so well-made.

⁕ There’s an example of what Jake’s script looked like in the “HIStory 3: Trapped The Making of...” book. ankdlgdndkgn it’s the hospital balcony scene. The thing that he writes in black, between the two red exclamation marks... “This is the show’s first kiss!!! (Vixen Andy doesn’t count).” WHY IS HE SO CUTE?

Day 49

For shooting the scenes at the exterior of the police station, we borrowed the Xizhi branch police building. That Xizhi branch building which only opened in 2017, is very new and very beautiful. The interior was also very spacious, so we had plenty of room to use.

On that day there happened to be a major traffic incident in that jurisdiction area, and both clerical and field police officers were busy bustling about. Even news reporting vehicles were driving in and out. We were able to witness the police officers' work that we usually don’t have opportunity to see. Thanks to all the protectors of the people for their hard work.

Today’s Xizhi police station was bustling and lively. Thanks as well to the fans of Director Qingrong who, during the afternoon tea time, came to visit the set and brought snacks like donuts and coffee. In the afternoon the weather turned cold and it started to drizzle. But the fans braved the wind and the rain and came anyway, and even gave handwritten cards to the actors and the director, which was really sweet.

Day 50

Day 2 at the police station. Today’s weather was nothing like yesterday’s “sunny and cloudy with an occasional shower”. Today the sun was shining very brightly, and the temperatures soared straight to 30 degrees. It was the perfect weather to play a song called “I love summer.”

We shot the scene where three members of Unit 3 talked with Jack at the door. They had to walk outside from inside the police station and each time they had to redo the take, everyone went back into the building with a look of total unwillingness. They opened their eyes widely and took a very deep breath, and with a blank look in their eyes they wiped their sweat and used a small fan to keep cool. Phew, foreheads were filled with beads of sweat, and everyone’s clothes were also soaked with sweat.

In the afternoon we filmed the scene from the last episode when Boss Tang goes to the police station to wait for Shaofei to get off work, when Jack also happened to ride his motorbike to pick up Zhaozi from work. At that time, the weather was still very sunny. Boss Tang, who wanted to sit on his car’s hood to wait for Shaofei, suddenly yelled out. Apparently the vicious sun had rendered the hood burning hot, which made boss Tang jump up in sudden fright.

15 notes · View notes

baoshan-sanren · 4 years

Text

Chapter 50

Emperor Wei WuXian And His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

Nie HuaiSang wrinkles his nose at the smell.

It has been some years since he has descended into the dungeons, but the damp air seems heavier now than it had been in the past. They are not meant to be enjoyable, the dungeons, and more pleasant accommodations would defeat the purpose of using them as a form of punishment. Still, HuaiSang does not understand why nothing can be done about the smell. The fan does precious little aside from moving the sticky air across his cheeks, and he folds it irritably, tapping Song Lan on the shoulder.

“Are you certain that torture will yield no results? I assure you, Madam Yu has made quite an art of it over the years. I think she takes pride in obtaining confessions without spilling a drop of blood.”

Song Lan shakes his head. They have spoken of this before, but HuaiSang knows that his voice will carry to the nearest cells. Perhaps Xue ChengMei cannot be tortured into a confession, but there is no harm in issuing a threat.

The boy is on his feet long before they reach him, forehead pressed against the bars, a mischievous grin etched across surprisingly attractive features. HuaiSang understands that a monster’s appearance will rarely reflect their inner monstrosity, but even he has to admit that this is slightly ridiculous. The boy looks fifteen years old at most, short in stature, small in build. The only vaguely threatening features of his appearance are the white, sharp teeth, but even those are made more menacing by their surroundings. Had the boy grinned at him in a well-lit courtyard instead of doing so in-between the bars of a cell, HuaiSang would have thought him cute, rather than dangerous.

“The Royal Companion,” the boy exclaims, “what an unexpected pleasure! I am a great admirer of yours.”

“Is that so?” HuaiSang says, “Do not spare the detail. I am always willing to be admired.”

Xue ChengMei’s eyes glitter in the darkness, his grin unwavering, “I should have known you would make no pretense of false humility.”

“Not precisely the way I prefer to be flattered.”

“It is your deeds I admire,” the boy says, “Tell me, does Sect Leader Su still believe that his son perished from a snake bite? Do you not think it extremely unfortunate? To be bitten by a yellow tail in MoLing?”

The boy taps his lips with his finger, issuing an exaggerated wink, “What a studious, sturdy snake that must have been, to have traveled all the way from QingHe just for a taste of the Young Master Su.”

HuaiSang mirrors the boy’s movement, tapping his lips with the fan.

Interesting. And potentially problematic.

“Your performance was not nearly as impressive,” HuaiSang smiles, “Such a common poison, with such an easily obtainable antidote. Surely, you did not expect that plan to work.”

“Ahh,” the boy sighs, pressing his cheek against the iron bar, “not all of us can be masters of the art I suppose. But the resulting chaos was quite entertaining.”

“Tell me about the Emperor’s potential,” HuaiSang says, “Tell me about achieving greatness.”

“Oh, but I have a much more interesting story to tell.”

“I am bored now,” HuaiSang turns to Song Lan, “let us go back.”

“Your father,” Xue ChengMei says quickly, “was no older than myself when the Empress took the throne. Such a young age, to be handed such great responsibility. Are you sure that you do not care to hear the story?”

HuaiSang’s fingers do not clench around his fan. He is calm as still water.

“You will like it,” the boy goes on, excitedly pressing himself against the bars, “it is a story no one else knows, but I am willing to share it with you.”

“Most of his words are deranged nonsense,” Song Lan says decisively, “there is no need to humor him.”

“Might as well,” HuaiSang says, glad to hear himself sound unaffected, “He seems anxious to tell it.”

“I am,” Xue ChengMei exclaims, “It is a fascinating tale. Many, many years ago, there was a mad Emperor who had a gift for demonic cultivation. But trying to control resentful energy comes with a cost. In order to continue using this infinite resource without harming himself in the process, he decided to store this energy into an object. The object would be capable of concentrating and directing the energy, but the process of creating such a thing came with a cost as well. He committed endless atrocities, slaughtered thousands of people, burned towns, rivers ran red with blood, so on and so forth,” he waves his hand impatiently, “You know that part of the story I am sure. Temples and cities obliterated, Sects decimated, advisors strung up by their toes, blah-blah.”

The impatient wave of his hand is such a perfect mirror image of Wei Ying’s own frequently used gesture, that HuaiSang is both alarmed and nauseated to see it.

“This part is known to all; the Emperor’s little niece, his favorite creature in the world, decides that the Emperor must be replaced, and murders her own uncle in cold blood. This is a story told and retold. Every child can recite the details. The Emperor’s experiments had failed, the Emperor was killed, the Empress took the throne, years of peace followed. But,” the boy presses his forehead to the iron bar, “this story is wrong.”

“Is it?” HuaiSang says, more and more convinced that this creature is dangerously unstable, “How so?”

“The Emperor did not fail in his experiments,” Xue ChengMei whispers conspiratorially, “He had succeeded. He had managed to create an object which can store infinite amounts of resentful energy, an object which can be used by any of his descendants. Any descendants, that is, who posses a particular affinity for demonic cultivation.”

HuaiSang feels his stomach turn, “The sword.”

“The sword,” the boy confirms, “Now, this is the interesting part of the story. The Empress, having grown up at court, did not have many trustworthy friends. But she did have three close confidants, two sworn brothers and a sister, peers she explicitly trusted. One of them, your father, was entrusted the sword. He was to place the sword in the Nie family's Ancestral Hall, where no descendent of YanLing DaoRen could lay their hands on it again. Can you guess what happened next?”

HuaiSang no longer cares that the boy can see his tight grip on the fan.

“Enlighten me,” he says coldly.

“Your father did not follow the Empress’ order,” Xue ChengMei grins brightly, “and who can blame him, truly? A young girl, not a full day in possession of the throne yet, asking him to hide such an object? If she were to lose her seat within a year, who would stand in the Nie Sect’s defense? Who would believe that the Nie Sect had obtained such an object for the sake of protecting the throne, instead of personal gain? You may think yourself a rare creature, Young Master Nie,” the boy winks again, “but I think you will find that the Nie Sect Leaders have always been pragmatists at heart.”

HuaiSang ignores the jab, his mind a whirlwind, “What did he do with the sword?”

The boy offers an exaggerated shrug, “Pawned it, sold it, given it away. What difference does it make?”

He is lying; HuaiSang knows this. He had made no effort to make it sound like the truth.

“How did you get it?”

“A friend gave to me,” Xue ChengMei says, blinking innocently through the bars.

“A friend who is still in the Immortal Mountain City?”

“Maybe,” the boy says, “Maybe not. Maybe he is no longer a friend. One cannot always trust those they call friends,” his grin is a sharp, sickly-sweet thing, “I believe this is a lesson the Emperor has yet to learn.”

HuaiSang wants nothing more than to take a hot, fragrant bath, and forget that he had ever spoken to this creature.

“You wanted the Emperor to become another YanLing DaoRen. To what purpose?”

“Wei WuXian would never be another YanLing DaoRen,” Xue ChengMei scoffs, “He would be so much more. A perfect vessel of destruction. A divine entity. Chaos personified.”

Well.

That answers that question.

HuaiSang taps his fan against his leg, thinking.

“Your attempts to eliminate the Lan Sect. You did not want the presence of those who can cleanse the Emperor of the resentful energy. But the Lan Sect is still here. The Emperor will recover. Your plan has failed.”

Xue ChengMei does not seem upset by the revelation, “Plans fail on occasion. There is always tomorrow.”

“You must have a great deal of confidence in your friend, who is maybe no longer a friend, if you intend to live long enough to see tomorrow.”

The boy only smiles in response.

It is an empty threat.

HuaiSang hates making empty threats.

A Jin Sect disciple cannot meet an accidental death in the Immortal Mountain City dungeons; not unless HuaiSang means to cause a diplomatic disaster. The situation at court is still too tense, too fragile for such heavy-handed solutions.

HuaiSang also cannot reveal the reasons for Xue ChengMei’s imprisonment. Such an accusation would result in a swift death, with no opportunity to draw out the accomplices he must have in the Immortal Mountain City.

No, the boy is infinitely more useful alive, although it sets HuaiSang’s teeth on edge to have this creature anywhere near Wei Ying.

There are many more questions he could ask, but the smell is unbearable, and for the time being, he has the majority of the answers he needs. The boy’s revelations may have been sparse and unpleasant, but HuaiSang has never needed all the pieces of a tangram to discern its shape.

Only when he is climbing the stone steps, does one particular sentence come back to him with full force, and he finds himself shaking his head in disbelief.

Chaos personified. As if Wei Ying had ever needed a demonic sword to be worthy of such a title.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #ficlet #m #wwx emperor au #okay so i mixed up the order last time #this is xue yang's creepy story time #wangji's pov is next #ily chickens

147 notes · View notes