#the only thing she won't sacrifice is the snake

[adreamfromnevermore]

You ever think that Monty might not be Esther's first familiar? Oh he's the one she has now. And maybe she's had him for a while, a couple years maybe even a few decades. But he isn't her first.

Because Esther isn't the type to keep her old toys around, she finds them and makes them into what she needs and keeps them for as long as they continue to be useful to her. And eventually there comes a spell or a potion or something of the type that requires a sacrifice of something close to her. And what do you know, she has this quaint little familiar right here. Something that relies on her, and knows only her and is oh so replaceable when you live as long as she does.

Monty isn't her first familiar, and he's probably not the first one she's ripped apart and put back together, but she's all he ever knew.

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Incomprehensible's Chapter 327

Brief summary: Cale's plate is broken. Source of the world saves Cale and repairs his plate. Cale briefly sees the true appearance of the ancient powers. Aipotu is revived.

==========

We now had actual confirmation that Cale's plate was broken. Mila was cursing as she tried to fix it, but CH could tell that she was scared of Cale dying. Even CH felt helpless upon feeling Cale's body that was getting colder. Only Ron remained calm and wiped the blood off Cale's face.

Meanwhile, Cale's anger and annoyance at DHB's sacrifice was what kept Cale from losing consciousness. Fortunately, the Source of the World came to Cale's rescue, infusing him with the power of life, as well as using Cale as an air purifier... 😂

Amidst the brilliant pillar of light that enveloped him, Cale's body and plate was healed and upgraded??? The reactions of the ancient powers to Cale's upgrades were hilarious though. 🤣🤣🤣

SR: What? This, huh? This is getting bigger than I thought. Fire to VoH: Hey, hey! Youngest, if this continues, won't Cale's plate be in a problem? SEW: What problem! You piece of shit! It's a good thing! We're fighting gods, not dragons, so we need to strengthen it to this extent! Shield: Mmm. This tastes better than the source of the world. Everyone: silent at glutton's words Shield: munching the life power of the source of the world DA: …I'm scared…

Our poor cowardly DA, scared of all the APs... 😂😂😂

But during Cale's plate upgrade, he managed to get a glimpse of what the ancient powers looked like:

Vitality of the Heart - an elderly man with a sobbing face

Indestructible Shield (glutton priestess) - a woman who looks like a young girl

Sound of the Wind (the thief) - a middle-aged woman with both eyes closed

Fire of Destruction - A jovial, playful-looking young man

Sky-Eating Water - a woman with a pure impression but a disgruntled face

Super Rock - a hulking, rigidly built man who reminded one of a rock itself.

Unfortunately, DA never got a physical description. 🙁 And Wind seems to be taller than Shield because she patted Shield's head.

Air Purifier Cale's appearance though... 😂

There was Cale. And there was a great energy radiating out from him, a stream of light, a pillar of light, stretching out into the world. And the air was so refreshing, warm, cool, and clear, yet also cold, hot, and chilling. It was like- "Yes. This is nature." Heavenly Demon said to himself as he looked at the marvelous sight. Then he heard the voice of a man in his ear. "The world-" No. "It's returning." His enemy, the dragon, gasped. "The world is returning to normal." I didn't have to hear the voice to know it. The world is being redefined. A return to the way things should be. It could only mean one thing. Something they wanted so badly. The white snake of the beast people, Wisha, cried out, unable to contain her excitement. "The world is coming to life!" Aipotu is coming back to life. And we live, too. No, we can live more. In this place.

Is this the birth of God Cale's legend? The birth of Caleism in Aipotu? And with Cale rejuvenating Aipotu, will he be known as some sort of creator god? 😂

Clopeh-nim, where are you? Are you recording this now? Please record it! Cale is now one more step closer to godhood! Slacker life? What's that? 🤣🤣🤣

Ending Remarks Ah, the flags of God Cale keeps multiplying. 😂 Next chapter will be about the aftereffects of Cale and the source of the world's actions. The Aipotu arc is finally reaching its end.

[raayllum]

like Callum made the right choice in 5x08 for his character and the thematic narrative. Thematically, Rayla cannot permanently die (she's too sacrificial) nor can she have a partner, honestly, who'd be willing to sacrifice her like that. Callum also cannot be willing to sacrifice her like that for the life of a stranger dragon he's never met, or not take the dark magic risk; not only is this how he's always clearly been ever since S1 ("But not everything [has changed]: I would do anything for you") but doing so would make him exactly like the worst of Viren: "If you have to choose between [the world] or your brother, pick the egg." Callum is having a dark path arc, but he's not having an antagonist or villain arc.

That said, there's a reason Callum is Chained Up when he gives the spell and locked in a damp dark brig and has to use the snake-chain spell specifically, because TDP loves its irony: what gets more ironic than freeing yourself from chains in order to free and save your girlfriend, when you know in doing so you're chaining yourself further and further to the main villain and his will in doing so? When you know that you would?

There's a reason 5x08 ends with Callum looking scared and sad and the shot of the snakes, because those aren't fun things (hi Ocean arcanum epiphany) to learn or fully accept about yourself. There's a reason that what characters justify with "I had no choice" or "this is the right thing to do" isn't always the literal case. "I had to, to save my friends" or you could've left it. You could've tried something else than dark magic. But you didn't, because you thought that was the one thing you could do in order to not lose your friend, so you did it; You Made Your Choice.

For example, if we're talking what happened in 5x08 in a "this would keep The World 100% safe" type of deal? Callum fucked up twice. He gave the spell and he didn't know Finnegrin would be dead or unable to use it by episode's end. He did dark magic — with no idea that it wouldn't let Aaravos automatically possess him in that moment — because a world where he didn't even try and save her was worse to him. But it was a risk! Both of those things were massive risks!

Just because they didn't amount to the extreme consequences they could have had, yet, doesn't mean that they won't, since soo much of TDP is just "this thing had unforeseen/unwanted consequences as a result of the choices you made" (the loss of Rayla's team, Harrow's death, Sarai's death, the possession at all, Karim's banishment, Zubeia's corruption, Claudia's 5 season long descent, and I'm sure going to the Starscraper next season, just to name a few quick examples off the top of my head). As Harrow says:

H: But I do know I will pay the price for the choices I've made. I've done terrible things. I thought they were necessary. Now I don't know.

Rayla thought she had to leave; she didn't. Rayla thought she had to find Viren, twice; that wasn't true. She chose to leave both times. She also chose to come back both times. She could've doubled down, but she didn't. Viren, finally, didn't.

Every step forward is a choice.

That's true for Every Single Character in the show.

To deny them that is to deny the agency they do have in the circumstances they find themselves in; Soren could've not stabbed his father, Terry could've chosen to tackle rather than stab Ibis, Viren could've chosen to grieve his son. That doesn't mean they didn't have good reasons to do the things they were doing, that doesn't mean their justifications weren't strong, that doesn't mean they were necessarily wrong to do so. But they made Choices.

So did Callum. And he chose what regrets, sacrifices, and losses he could live with, in order to save the person he decided he couldn't live without.

It's that simple, and that complicated.

[blondeaxolotl]

Finally found the time to draw my re-vamp of Pluto... I had this planned for a while but I didn't do anything until now!!! so here he is! The guy!!!

Since I probably won't talk about Pluto that often, I'm deciding to just drop his re-vamp here and his lore that I made for him in this post!!

Personality wise: Pluto is a human who was formed into a "Hell-hound", unlike "Canon Pluto", Pluto here has more of the personality of a human instead of a dog in a mans body. He resembles a dog yes, but he talks, walks, behaves like a person, and prefers to be treated as one, otherwise it makes him feel de-humanised if he's being shoo'd away like some house-pet (which is what Sebastian often does, they don't like eachother that much). Pluto seems to have a close bond with Finny and Snake, considering them truly family first before he starts viewing the others as such as well (Not Sebastian). He does not recall his human life, he doesn't even remember his own name. The reason why he's referred to as "Pluto" is because it's what Angela called him when she was in charge of him, and the name stuck within the phantomfam, but he did eventually gain the nickname "Plu-Plu" by Finny, which Pluto seems to not mind, but he prefers if it's only used by either Finny or Snake (or his snakes). Besides his obvious close bond with Finny and Snake, he's slowly starting to show more trust with the others, Like Ciel, Mey-Rin and Tanaka. He doesn't like Baldroy that much but he doesn't hate him (they'll eventually bond when Baldroy starts to cook better food). Though he seems to hate Sebastian and refuses to be near him or listen to him (unless Ciel tells him to), poor fella is uncomfortable around him.

BACKSTORY/LORE (Warning for Human experiment, demon sacrifice, implied animal abuse, physical abuse and torture) Please read with caution if any of this things might discomfort or trigger you

I'm going to keep things short and simple I won't go into deep detail or such, it's just a summary of what "Pluto" went through from beginning to end and how he got to where he is now, also sorry if the writing is shit this is my first time writing anything like this so my bad.

On a bright sunny day, a 17 year old boy, Maxwell, and his pet dog were both kidnapped and taken away while alone working on their family farm while his parents were away for the week. Max and his dog were taken away by a group of men and taken to a mad doctor who wanted to create the first ever "half-beast half-man" and sell it off to a freakshow for alot of money, pretending to have "found" the beast instead of "creating" it. Unfortunately, the boy and his dog were not the first. While being dragged away to their new long-time home, Max noticed cages upon cages of "people" with animal parts attached to them (from the looks of it, it seemed like a few of them were already lifeless and decaying). With now knowing what's going to become of him, Max and his dog were thrown in an empty cage together, a cage which will be known as his long-time home and thus 2 long years of torture began. The torture of him and his dog becoming one.

After many forced injections, body parts being taken apart and stitched together, Max slowly grew weaker and weaker as more as he went through, not only did his body grow weaker, but so did his mind. Who was he? Who were his parents? Where did he come from? Why was he wearing a dog collar? Answers who he did not know for, at least not anymore. The doctor, who was getting more and more irritated realizing the only thing keeping his creation alive right now was his weak breathing, has grown sick and tired of all these failed experiments. The doctor had one last option to make his half-beast man become fully alive and functional, one last chance of becoming the rich man he wished to be.

Max being yanked by his collar and forced to walk on his hind legs (which was already painful enough to stand) was dragged down to a lower, darker part of the building(?) he was in, his vision was blurry and his ears were muffled but upon entering a room, he could see the figure of who believed to be the doctor standing above something and surrounded- what Max believed to be a weird circle.

After being thrown into the circle, he struggled to stand up and fell down to the ground, rubbing his eyes trying to handle this brain-spliting headache while the doctor rambles off non-sense, for a second he felt like he heard something being impaled but wasn't sure. Barely a second past and suddenly the whole room felt like it was spinning, weird black goop and furniture started circling around him and the doctor as if there was a hurricane accruing right this moment.

Max finally looked up and saw a strange tall lanky figure leaning over the doctor (at least what he thought was a figure), his vision was still blurry but he knew he felt unsafe the moment that thing appeared in the room. Not even trying to comprehend what the two of them were talking or even trying to figure out what that thing was or where it came from, he tried his best to regain his strength and attempt to crawl away to safety- Which didn't last long as he felt a sharp pain within his chest suddenly, as if a hand went through him and started crushing his soul. Whatever that thing was, he knew the doctor told it to do it (since he heard loud cheer coming from that freak)- He felt like he was being killed and reincarnated at the same time.

Moments later, Max found himself running out of the building he was once kept in for what felt like an eternity. Blood was dripping down from his mouth but he no longer felt pain every stepped he took, his vision and earing have improved as well, as if all that pain he went through never happened.

He did not know what that thing was, (he did not recall what he did or what happened after the experience with the figure and the doctor, but he knew he did something- did he hurt someone?) but it seemed to have helped him more than it helped the doctor, whatever it was, he did NOT want to encounter it again nor something similar to it. Despite feeling physically better, his mental state still remained fragile, he still couldn't remember anything nor how he even got here. Who was he again?

Months after finally fleeing his personal hell, walking for days and hours as far away as he could. He eventually found himself in a forest, and finally decided this was a good place to rest for a bit, he was far away from his abusers, but also isolated enough to where no one could find him and take him away again. At least, that's what he thought.

A minute has past with his eyes closed, only to quickly open them up again after feeling something hover over him, a strange woman in white was standing over him. “Oh dear, what are you” she muttered.

He didn’t know if she meant it with disgust, but she seemed surprised nonetheless. They both stared at each other for a short period of time, before the lady look away for a moment and then looked back, as if an idea clicked in her head.

“You’re a strange looking demon hound” A demon hound? Is that who he is? What's a demon hound? “But you seem to be lost and scared, come now, as an Angel, it’s my duty to help those in need, even if one is a demon”

He had no idea who this woman was, but the moment she spilled out that she was an angel he immediately jumped back onto his feet, an angel? Did she come to help him? Did she come to fix him? If only she would’ve come sooner but he would rather not complain “What’s your name?” she asked but all he could do is stare, what was his name again? Did he even have one? After receiving moments of silence, he felt a tug on his collar “Pluto” The angel said

“Nice to meet you Pluto, we’re going to be friends for a while now” Pluto? That felt familiar, but he didn’t know why.. But it was his name now, and it’s what he will be referred to from now on according to the angel. With his tail wagging and his spirit high now, Pluto finally found someone he can trust, I mean, it’s an angel after all, and angels are always there to help, so of course he's going to trust her, she did say she is going to help him.

Without hesitation, Pluto began following the angel after she gestured to him, leading him to a village. Believing that this village might be his journey to fixing himself, though unfortunately, he does not realise that the angel tricked him into becoming the monster of this villager, leading to long months of now being treated like monster that deserves to be hunted down by the towns people, and only bringing hatred towards the villages own dogs because of him being a "hound dog". That is, until help finally arrives.

______________________________________________

Okay yeah I yapped a little too much my bad I got carried away, but basically long story short, Ciel and Sebastian get there, they found out it’s not some evil spirit and it’s pluto instead (Sebastian beats the fuck out of him) and later on Angela hands Pluto over to them to “train him better” or whatever. Which Ciel agrees to and next thing you know Pluto ends up becoming a trio with Finny and Snake because he feels the closest to them and believes they’re the only ones who relate to him the most with the experience he went though and yeah. This took longer than I expected and it's now 3am lmaooo, as a bonus for reading my edgy story have a doodle:

[ilikekidsshows]

Hello. :)

Can I asked for your opinion? I've talked with some of my friends and they said ladybug miraculous is exclusively a leader miraculous while I think it's more strategy related miraculous, not necessarily a sign of a leader, just like the snake.

This discussion is started when I want to write a story about Adrien take over as a leader of the miraculous team after Marinette got vetoed as a not good leader by the team (the story take place three years after s5 finale and they're all adults, Adrien also take times to heal and not Marinette boyfriend). so while she remain as a guardian and strategist, Adrien will be the one leading the team and my friends said it won't work because of the reason that I stated above.

I've seen some example where the leader and the strategist are two different people that's why I think it will work, that ladybug miraculous isn't an exclusive leader miraculous. What do you think? I'm confused because while I was pretty confident before about my opinion that any holder can be the leader, my friends keep saying the same thing that only ladybug holder can lead because the lucky charm ability and it make me doubt myself now.

Thank you and take care.

---

You are absolutely correct, the fact that you can find examples of the team strategist and team leader being two different people with the team still functioning proves it. Your friend has simply fallen into the trap of thinking that, since one thing is what we mostly see, it's therefore the only way to do things. The team leader and the strategist being interchangeable is what we more commonly see, which is why I, too, used to think Marinette's strategic thinking made her a good leader back during the pretool era.

Furthermore, the Lucky Charm ability is not what makes the Ladybug hero indispensable, since Luka has also shown that he can strategize with the Snake Miraculous, it's the Miraculous Ladybug and purification abilities. The reason Marinette is the most important member of the team is because only she can purify Akumas and fix the damage caused by any fights. Basically, Marinette has three times the amount of abilities any other Miraculous, outside of the Dragon.

Regardless, post-retool Marinette has repeatedly failed at everything else a leader should do outside of strategy. What Miraculous she's holding can't change that. Who cares that you can purify Akumas when you lead your team like a dictatorship and are inconsistent with what the rules that you yourself alone enforce are? That's extremely stressful for the team members. Who cares that you can fix the buildings after the fight when you play favorites on your team and never listen to any dissenting opinions even when they're absolutely correct? This tendency has caused problems that could have been avoided if Marinette just stopped viewing her teammates as drones.

Her go-to tactic in a fight is “keep my distance and think of a plan while others actually fight the Akuma”, which makes it obvious she should be more of a strategist instead of a front-lines leader. But, I’ve even grown disillusioned with Marinette's strategic ability. It's one thing to, in a desperate situation, after deep deliberation, make the sacrifice play, to sacrifice something or someone else so that more can be saved. Even with the Miraculous Ladybug ability, Marinette treats sacrifice plays extremely casually and she's very willing to make them when they're her idea. Way too often, Marinette comes up with a convoluted plan that can still be summed up as “sacrifice Cat Noir and fix him with my Miraculous Ladybug later”. Backwarder is the most obvious example, but whatever she was doing to him in Reverser is pretty up there too, never mind how casually she leaves him as the sole cambatant every single time she's getting backup and whenever she's busy implementing a plan. Way too many of Marinette's plans rely on having Cat Noir do most of the heavy lifting for her to sacrifice his well-being so casually even from a logical perspective.

Frankly, the only reason to argue that Marinette should still remain the leader after all this is if you want her to keep doing a bad job or shield her from criticism. Like, her tendency to treat Cat Noir as expendable cannon fodder would be brought to question by everyone on the team if Cat Noir was the leader instead of one of her drones. Marinette's standard for leadership can only be maintained in a team where only she's allowed to do any of the thinking, with everyone else going “Well, she's Ladybug, and she can do no wrong”. If she loses this cover, she's far more likely to get called out on her willingness to sacrifice anything or anyone but herself.

Meanwhile, Cat Noir brings a lot more to the table as a potential leader. He’s friendly to new team members even when he doesn't pick them (contrast how these two greet Volpina, who they had no reason to be suspicious of the time), he considers how their team members might be feeling (even when they aren't on the team anymore like Chloé) and he's concerned over things like having consistent rules for everyone on the team instead of playing favorites for his favorite team members (he was appalled when the found out Nino and Alya were being held to a lower standard than anyone else even though Nino is his best friend). He’s also far more open to perspectives other than his own and he'd never hold others to standards he doesn't also hold himself to.

[moonyasnow]

My OCs in 'Dungeon Meshi'

What the title says: if they were in the world of Dungeon Meshi

Forgive Spike's…everything— I was in a moving car when I drew him. I also changed what race I wanted him to be halfway through, hence the two pairs of ears

I did not have access to an eraser when I drew any of these

More thoughts below!

How each of them would react to eating monsters:

Tomoe wouldn't be…hostile to the idea. She understands very well it not only saves money, things they'd need to carry, and how long it'd take to traverse the dungeon; practically eliminating the need to return to the surface unless something drastic were to happen. When she brings up the idea, she can already guess how each of the others would react to it. But she won't force anyone; she's understand unwillingness. As for her own feelings: before they begin to cut the monster up to prepare food, she thanks it for its sacrifice. She's…a bit reluctant to let herself admit it tasted good, though. But she decides to ignore it and instead focus on the 'sharing a meal with others' aspect. Partly so none of the others will get cold feet about it, which she definitely knows could happen if they saw their leader hesitant to her own idea.

Favorite monster meal: Griffin Soup

Veronica grumbles about it at first, but ultimately eats it, understanding they don't have much choice. And Tomoe framing it to her as a means of survival made it easier for Veronica to accept. Gotta do what you gotta do to survive to see another day. She gets used to it rather quickly. And she also quickly started to pick anything bitter off of Victor's plate and exchanging it with something else from her plate, like she always had. Despite how the gruesome the scenario was, she was happy to see him that happy; he hadn't had that look on his face in who knows how many years.

Favorite monster meal: Nightmares Steamed in Sake

Victor is thrilled. He's called first dibs on dissecting ALL the monsters before they eat them. He often saves little parts of them, mostly bones, to use for more undead minions medicinal reasons. He's particularly interested in the humanoid monsters, like mermaids, harpies and dryads. Also finds a lot of joy in studying monsters. He's sad the others wouldn't let him keep one in a bag to torture and experiment on study.

Favorite monster meal: Exorcism Sorbet

Irina would not be able to eat it at all if she saw it get killed, or it has an even vaguely humanoid face. It'd probably give her nightmares if she tried. The whole situation forces her to think more about the fact that all the meat she eats was once alive. It makes her feel incredibly guilty. She's never been picky with food, but she can barely scarf it down.

Favorite monster meal: Changeling Dumplings from Fairy Ring

Junia, lover of all things macabre and monstrous, is very open to the idea, and curious about it, thinking it'd be interesting to try out new recipes. She treats it the same as eating any other animal, and quickly develops favorites. But she's also sad they haven't found too many friendly monsters. She thinks Victor is just interested in monsters like she is.

Favorite monster meal: Jack-o-Lantern Potage and Sautéed Dryad Buds with Cheese

Spike feels kinda sorry for the monster, especially if it didn't attack them right away. But he knows he has no choice; it's a dog-eat-dog world, after all. Especially in the dungeons. And he's gotta eat lots to keep up his strength so he can help the others. But he just would not be able to eat anything he considers 'cute'. As well as anything wolf-like; that just feels like a step too close to cannibalism— both just feel too wrong! He thinks eating things like snakes or dragons is cool as all hell though and is very excited to try it.

Favorite monster meal: Red Dragon Meal

Artemisia has been so sheltered that the concept of eating monsters isn't any more strange to her than anything else she'd encounter in the dungeon, or even on the surface in regular life. Besides, she'd read books about monster cuisine before. She's the only one who doesn't know eating all kinds of monsters isn't common, so has 0 qualms about it. Asks Junia to teach her how to cook.

Favorite monster meal: Boiled Mimic

Lisle hates every single bite and wants to throw up. It disgusts him that he's making such gross, 'unclean' and monsterous— well, monsters, part of him. But since Junia always seems so excited to have him try it, he knows he couldn't turn it down, even on the grounds of 'being a vegetarian due to his compassion for all living beings' (lies, he does not care that much) without making himself seem less kind. So he eats it.

Favorite monster meal: Portable Meal Set for Adventurers (does that even count as a monster meal?)

[mylo-space]

Black Crayons, Arcade Tokens, and Glow Sticks

Summary: A day in the life of MK after the events of season 5, struggling with an exhaustion he can't shake and thoughts that won't stop racing through his head long enough to let him get any real rest. The city and its people have changed, the world has changed, MK has changed, and none of it is processing very well (or at all), it doesn't go unnoticed by his friends and family. What's a poor Harbinger to do with all these existential crises? The simple answer is to just Ignore the Crisis, but the real, much more complicated answer is that MK needs someone to talk to and, luckily, good advice finds him where he least expects it.

Posted on Ao3: 2024-10-17 Word Count: 16,903

Coming home was always the strangest phenomenon after saving the universe, because MK knew, fundamentally, that so much had changed–about himself, his friends, the world in general–but his room was always exactly as he’d left it, right down to the jacket on his chair and the figurine he’d knocked over in his rush to get ready for work.

Dealing with all the changes that happened after the Pillar of Heaven was harder than MK thought it’d be, and most days he felt as though the whole world had been tilted on its axis. The feeling had gotten better since his rooftop conversation with Monkey King, but it still felt childish, clinging to his familiarity to a point that he couldn’t even stand to look outside.

And since MK was never one for idle hands, he adapted to the change the only way he knew how, and he changed something he had some control over. He pushed his bed to the opposite wall and contemplated where to put his TV now that he’d displaced it. Pigsy had already long since left the establishment, meaning MK could scoot the furniture around however he liked without bothering anyone, and he was taking advantage of it. Mei would probably have questions for him when she saw the state of things, but for the moment, it was just some mindless task to occupy his time.

The TV and the stand where it sat were easy enough to find a place for, but his dresser was harder. It weighed absolutely nothing to MK’s strength, he could have picked it up and thrown it across the room if he chose, but he preferred the old fashioned method of driving his shoulder into the side and shoving until it found a place–though he had to be mindful not to dent the walls as he pushed.

Rearranging his room had taken practically no effort, but he still all but collapsed into his bed once he was satisfied with it. For all his many powers, MK still had the mortal need to sleep, and it was well past two in the morning, not that lying in bed did much in terms of real rest since his eyes refused to stay closed and his thoughts never slowed their rotation long enough to sleep. But it was nice to just be comfortable for a few hours.

Bitterly, MK wondered if Nuwa was ever amused by him, growing more tired with every disaster while sleep became increasingly elusive. Perhaps the ‘monkey form’ was a red herring, and he truly was a child in her making–a snake eating its own tail.

MK took a deep breath and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. It didn’t seem to matter anymore how much he rested, there wasn’t a single bone in MK’s body that wasn’t tired. He’d convinced himself that it didn’t really matter anyway; even if his body craved sleep like a mortal, he doubted ‘chaos incarnate’ could die from lack of sleep. 

Monkey King probably wouldn’t approve of him putting that to the test, but he hadn’t exactly agreed with a lot of MK’s recent decisions. He’d already been prying about MK’s sleep schedule before the Pillar of Heaven situation, and he doubted the phrase, I’ll sleep when I’m dead, got to fly anymore, no matter how playful he meant it.

Struck with a realization, MK pulled his hands away from his face, blinking at the ceiling. It’d been phrased so much more eloquently by Nuwa and the Nine-Headed Demon–his sacrifice to the world, his role in destiny, his fate by creation–but separating the martyrdom from it all, MK was left with a very simple conclusion.

Furrowing his brow, he weighed the whisper, “I died,” and found it much heavier than he’d expected. His heart rocketed to his throat, lungs stuttering on a sharp inhale. “Huh,” he said slowly, trying to smother a hiccup of fear, “okay.” Saving the universe had given him a whole host of new crises to sort through, but he hadn’t figured his death to be one of them. He had known what he was doing when he walked into the Pillar’s light, welcomed it, even, if it’d meant saving the world, and yet-

Blindly, eyes trained unseeing on the ceiling above him, MK reached for his chest in search of life. He could feel his heartbeat brush against his fingertips as he clung to his shirt, nails digging into the skin through the fabric just to be certain. It was unmistakably present, but he was overwhelmed by the sudden, childish anxiety that his heart might somehow stop if he didn't hold his hand there to count the beats.

He waited until his heart slowed to a more reasonable pace before closing his eyes again, grappling with his blanket and burying his head in his pillow. His eyes were so tired that they burned even when he tried to rest them, hiding behind the darkness of his closed lids, and a swarm of thoughts flitted like fireflies through his mind.

It wasn’t just Nuwa and Xianglu who had put death so eloquently that he could brush past it. MK had beaten the Lady Bone Demon, he had defeated Azure. And it occurred to MK that the Lady had spoken true; they were more similar than they were different, willing to pursue their convictions even at the cost of their own lives.

The only real difference was that MK had gotten to come back. Not that he’d want the Lady to have a second chance at destroying the world, but Azure, at least– poor, broken Azure –was more than deserving, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Eventually, he must have fallen into a fitful sleep, because when his eyes opened next, it was to the sound of Pigsy’s truck parking outside. He wrenched his eyes closed again as the door to the noodle shop rattled and opened, and he knew without even looking at the clock that it was precisely half-past five, because that was always when Pigsy opened the shop, every morning without fail, for as long as MK had known him.

Figuring he wouldn’t get any more rest than what he’d already gotten, MK decided he’d get up and help Pigsy prep for the day. Deliveries wouldn’t be ready to go out for a while yet, and it was touch and go whether or not the shop owner would even let him do them, but he could still do his other chores until then.

MK quickly rolled out of bed, footsteps light as he rummaged around for an outfit, so as not to alert the chef downstairs. If Pigsy came up to check on him, there’d be questions about his reorganized room and barely slept in bed, but if he made it to the shop ready for the day, MK might get away with saying he just got up early. He doubted Pigsy would actually believe him, but he’d get away with it.

Only half the shop’s lights were on when MK peered downstairs, an old habit of Pigsy’s ever since the delivery boy could remember. He was rarely awake so early in the morning, but he knew Pigsy didn’t turn on all the lights until the shop was open for the day. There was just enough light for Pigsy to safely slice his vegetables in the kitchen, and the rest was cast in gentle dawn shadows, an easy sight on MK’s tired eyes.

“Hey, Pigsy,” MK greeted quietly, trying not to disturb the chef’s concentration. “Need any help with prep today?”

For a moment, MK could see Pigsy’s gaze flick to him, expression undecipherable as he pulled a stalk of bok choy from his pile of rinsed vegetables. “You’re up early,” he said, turning his attention back to the rhythmic slicing, “you gettin’ enough sleep, kid?”

“Yeah,” MK replied, and ignored the twinge of guilt that came with his small, white lie, “nothing wears a guy out like saving the universe.” Looking through the closet of cleaning supplies, MK tacked on, “Except maybe a Monday lunch rush, but it’s a close second.”

That earned him a huff of laughter, which MK took as a good sign and began sweeping the floors. “Y’know there was a time when sweeping the floor was an uphill battle with you,” Pigsy said absently. “Even doing your deliveries on time was a struggle.”

MK winced, “Yeah, I wasn’t always the best employee, huh.” He swept his line of dust into a pile. “Had my head in the clouds,” he chuckled, “or the arcade games.” Clearing his throat, he sheepishly added, “I’m, uh- I am sorry about that, by the way.”

“Sorry for what?” Pigsy replied easily. “Being an obnoxious, irresponsible young adult?” He shuffled the collection of sliced vegetables off his cutting board and into a bowl. “You may not have been the best employee, but you were always a good kid, MK. I was doin’ way worse at your age, trust me.”

“Oh,” MK said, dumping his full pan of dust into the trash. “That- that’s funny, you know, considering how many times you  threatened to fire me.” Pigsy’s rhythm faltered a bit, dark eyes darting to MK with an intensity that had him glancing away. “I mean, I definitely didn’t feel like a ‘good kid’ when you did that.”

Admittedly, the sentence had come out a little more bitter than he’d meant it, and MK blamed his exhaustion for not being able to deliver the comment with the light-hearted air he’d wanted. It wasn’t as though Pigsy’s strictness had been malicious, it was just how the shop owner was, and MK wouldn’t have changed him for anything. The day he’d spent in the calabash proved how much he preferred the original, gruff Pigsy over one with soft edges and a too-sweet demeanor.

“But it was probably good for me,” MK continued quickly, shoving the broom back into the closet of cleaning supplies. “You know, teaching me responsibility and, uh- diligence, and stuff.” He ducked into the closet to fill his mop bucket before Pigsy could formulate a response. While the water ran, MK scrubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to banish the tired pulling at his eyelids, smacking his cheeks to wake himself up.

Pigsy was still staring when he emerged from the closet, studying MK carefully and he dragged the mop over the floor. He’d long grown used to the shop owner’s scrutinizing stare when it came to judging his performance as an employee, but it felt different in recent months, like Pigsy was trying to peer into MK’s very soul.

“Kid,” he said finally, and MK took a fortifying breath. “MK,” he persisted, “do you think I’m gonna be angry with you for not doing deliveries or somethin’?”

“No,” Mk replied honestly, “it’s not like that, I just-” And it was hard to explain for the same reason he couldn’t quite manage his usual cheerful demeanor; he was exhausted.

There would always be some deep-seated desire to make sure Pigsy was proud of him, but he’d also always known that threats of being fired were half-hearted, at best. The shop owner hadn’t been a perfect guardian, but MK figured out of all the things that might give him a complex, Pigsy’s parenting was the least of his concerns.

Grip tightening around the handle of his mop, MK sloshed more water across the floor–perhaps a bit more violently than necessary. “Look, I didn’t- I don’t know why I said that.” He purposefully hovered over a stain he knew wouldn’t come out so that he could scrub furiously at the floor, taking out his frustration without looking suspicious. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I’m just tired.”

Humming, Pigsy noted, “I thought you said you were sleeping.”

MK’s mouth twitched to scowl, and he was thankful that he’d trained his gaze so firmly on the floor. “Well, I don’t know if that’s exactly what I said,” he replied, keeping his voice as even and neutral as he possibly could. It was never a good thing when Pigsy caught him in a lie, not because he feared a punishment to fit the crime, but because Pigsy had developed a habit of prying, and MK wasn’t quite ready to talk.

“Well, I know that’s what you said,” Pigsy said shortly, “and it sounds like you lied.” When MK didn’t immediately deny the accusation, Pigsy continued, “So, you’re not sleepin’, but you wanna start doin’ deliveries again?” MK huffed and dunked his mop back in the water. “Kid, it ain’t healthy to just- to keep goin’ like this.” He could hear the edge in Pigsy’s voice, he was concerned and irritated–perhaps more irritated with himself for not being able to handle the situation, but that didn’t make MK feel any better; he was the one making the situation difficult. “A year ago you would’ve killed for a day off from work.”

“Yeah, well, now I’ve killed,” MK snapped, “and I decided I’d rather be working.” The moment the words left his mouth, he was struck with ice-cold guilt, but seeing as he couldn’t face Pigsy and he couldn’t very well walk away, he continued to mop as though he hadn’t said anything, though that didn’t dissuade the piercing gaze burrowing into the back of his head.

The slim, wooden handle of the mop creaked a bit when Pigsy spoke again. “You got somethin’ you wanna talk about, kid?”

MK ducked his head, forcing his hands to loosen their grip before he broke the handle. “I’d rather mop,” he said quietly, barely audible over the sound of his own roaring heartbeat. “It’s just more Mystic Monkey business, anyway,” he added, trying futilely to deter Pigsy from asking any more questions, “and you hate dealing with all my ‘magic mumbo-jumbo’, so…” he trailed off, “just not gonna talk about it, I guess.”

He’d half expected Pigsy to let him leave it at that, but his heart sank at the staccato sound of a stern chef setting down his ladle. “Kid,” Pigsy said with military firmness, “you’re done cleaning.” MK was actually only half done mopping the floor, but once Pigsy had pulled out the Dad Voice, there wasn’t much point in arguing with him. “Put that away and sit down.”

Part of MK was frustrated with the intervention, more than anything he just wanted to do his normal chores at his normal job like a normal delivery boy. A year ago, Pigsy would have loved this sort of dedication from MK, but it seemed the more he wanted that life back, the less of it he got to have.

Surprisingly, Pigsy didn’t confront MK after he put the mop and bucket away, and he didn’t say anything once MK had sat down at the bar, either. MK let his arms rest on the wooden counter and buried his face in the crook, closing his eyes as though he were merely resting, and not childishly hiding from Pigsy’s sight.

“I’m not angry with you,” the suddenness made MK flinch a bit, but he otherwise gave no indication that he’d heard, “you know that, right? I’m not mad that you don’t wanna talk about it.”

MK mumbled, “Maybe you should be.” But he didn’t really want Pigsy angry with him, even if he deserved it, so he shifted the conversation a bit, “Why aren’t you?”

“Because you’re havin’ a hard time,” Pigsy replied. “And givin’ you a hard time on top of it ain’t gonna do either of us any good.”

There was a lot MK wanted to say, but the last bit of his frustration had left him, leaving only the bone-deep tired that never seemed to fade. So he stayed hidden in his arms, listening to Pigsy go back to his morning prep. He knew it wouldn’t have been very productive, but he’d have preferred to sit in the quiet ambience of the shop rather than have a conversation. At the very least, it might have allowed him a bit more rest.

But Pigsy didn’t seem content to let them sit in silence for long. “You know,” he said, “when you were a kid, I couldn’t get you to talk for nothin’.” MK didn’t lift his head, but he turned it enough to hear Pigsy better. “Quiet as a mouse, when I found you, following me with your big, brown eyes starin’ right into my soul.”

“Huh,” MK muttered, vaguely intrigued by the direction of conversation. “Now you can’t shut me up.”

“And I wouldn’t want to.” MK could hear some clattering around as Pigsy continued prepping for the day. “Never had too much trouble figurin’ you out back then, and whatever you couldn’t explain or point to, you could draw.” MK’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t dare look up. “But then, there was this whole week you just refused to go to bed.”

Hesitantly, MK asked, “What was wrong with me?”

“Wasn’t anythin’ wrong with you,” Pigsy said. “You were a toddler, and scared of the dark.” MK opened his eyes and stared at the fabric of his jacket, curling his arms tighter around his head. “Hard to draw ‘the dark’, though, huh? I think you broke just about every black and gray crayon you could find tryin’ to tell me what was wrong, but I eventually figured it out.” There was a brief lull, then, “Well- Tang figured it out,” he admitted. “Point is, sometimes it’s hard talkin’, and nobody here is gonna hold that against you.”

MK could feel the disgust for his own immaturity carving a pit into his stomach. “Yeah, well, I’m a big boy now,” he muttered bitterly. “Maybe I should use my words.”

Pigsy sighed, not impatiently, but it still made MK want to curl in on himself. “It’s not a matter of ‘should’,” he said, “you just can’t.” MK dug his teeth into his bottom lip, blinking back a burning in his eyes. “That’s nothin’ against you, kid; you had a lotta growing up to do in the last year, lotta things to, uh… process.” Pigsy huffed out something that might have been a laugh, if it weren’t so laden with melancholy, “And I’m not doin’ much better in the processing department myself.” He shook his head. “I feel like I used to read you like an open book, but with everything that’s happened, there’s some things I just ain’t equipped for.”

There was more to the statement, MK was sure of it, but that didn’t stop his heart from plummeting to his stomach–though he supposed he was happy to feel it do anything. “What’s that mean?” he asked timidly, finally lifting his head to see Pigsy setting a pot on the stove. “Not equipped for… like, me, in general, or-”

“Wha- no!” Pigsy said, nearly dropping the pot in alarm. “Not you, just-” He took a moment to pinch the bridge of his snout, taking a breath to collect his thoughts. “No matter what happens,” he said evenly, drilling the words into MK’s head, “I’m gonna be here for you, alright? But you’ve-” His hands moved to sit on his hips, head tilted back in frustration. “I dunno what I’m even tryin’ to say here.”

“That’s okay,” MK said quickly. “Look, I get that you’re trying to help, you know? I appreciate it, even if you can’t, like, articulate it well-”

“It is okay,” Pigsy exclaimed, “that’s what I’m sayin’, kid.” At MK’s owlish blink, he tried, “MK, you don’t- you’re always gonna be my son, yeah? I’m your Dadsy, all the way.” Some tension eased from MK’s shoulders at the assurance. “But you’re also somethin’ more than that, you’re- and it’s somethin’ great, MK, you’re somethin’ incredible, but it’s more, y’know? You’ve outgrown this ol’ chef.”

Almost unconsciously, MK’s sneaker braced against a leg of his barstool, knee bouncing anxiously. “Oh,” he started picking at the edges of his nails, then laced his fingers together to stop himself; Tang would kill him–or at least tsk him sternly–if he saw MK had picked up the old childhood habit again, “I’m sorry.”

Pigsy snorted, “You didn’t ask to be ‘chaos incarnate’, kid.”

MK shrugged helplessly, “I’m still sorry.”

“If anyone should be sorry, it’s me,” Pigsy countered. “I know I ain’t always much help when it comes to this sorta thing.” His gaze fell a bit, distant and solemn. “And I am��sorry, MK. All this- the celestial destiny stuff, and the meditation amnesia, or the, uh… primordial curses, or whatever, it’s just-” his snout scrunched, “it all kinda goes over my head.

“But bein’ your father means having your back,” Pigsy continued. “And if that means a warm bowl of noodles, I’m in the kitchen; and if it means chasin’ the dark outta your room, I’ll get an extra nightlight for the hallway; and if it means fightin’ giant snake demons, I’ll deal damage with a magic rake.” He tilted his head a bit to meet MK’s downcast eyes. “And if it means you need somebody to talk to that ain’t me?

“Then you go have tea and a heart-to-heart with Sandy, or train all day with the Monkey King.” His gaze turned thoughtful, “Or maybe you find that one real fiery kid- what’s Mei call him? Red Boy?” MK’s lip twitched to smile, a small, aborted laugh escaping his nose. “Don’t matter, wander however far you need, kid.” Reaching across the counter, Pigsy gave MK’s arm a warm, comforting pat. “Your ol’ Dadsy is gonna have a family recipe and a shoulder to sleep on when you get home.”

The warm hand on MK’s arm melted the static under his skin, his anxious twitching fading to a less perceptible tremble. He had to gnaw on his lip for a moment to steady his wobbling voice, “You know you’re not, like… lacking in the ‘having my back’ department, right? You’re the best Dadsy a guy could ever ask for.” He tried for a smile, but if it looked shaky as he felt, then it probably wasn’t the most convincing thing, “I mean, I don’t even understand a lot of this stuff, so-”

“All the more reason for you to try talkin’ to someone who might,” Pigsy said. “It ain’t gonna hurt my feelings none if you need to work out some stuff about demons and chaos and whatnot.” MK hummed and put his head back on the table, more exhausted by his efforts to stay upright than attempting to hide. “Just don’t take it out on the mop next time, huh?”

“Sorry,” MK yawned, already halfway to falling asleep right there on the counter. He was sure Pigsy would let him, at least until Tang arrived for his morning bowl of noodles, and it grew more tempting the longer he let his tired eyes rest. His thoughts blurred together, and all he could manage was another murmured, “M’sorry,” though couldn’t quite articulate why he felt the need to say it. Perhaps for all his earlier snapping, or being on the counter and in the way, or maybe some combination of the two.

The next hour or so passed in blurry increments, MK only occasionally stirring just enough to adjust his head to sit more comfortably on his arms. He could hear Pigsy preparing the shop to open as he drifted in and out of consciousness, boiling water, chairs being pulled off the tables and set on the floor, vegetables being dropped into a fragrant broth–at some point Pigsy had even turned on the small radio, though MK barely noticed as the tinny music lulled him back to sleep.

Distantly, he’d felt himself being moved, some disjointed memory of Pigsy pulling him off his barstool. He’d tried with little success to get his feet under him, mumbling something incoherent even to his own ears, but Pigsy had placated him with a warm grumble. “I gotcha, kid.” And MK couldn’t find it in himself to wrestle with the effort it took to keep his eyes open, so he’d let himself be carried back up the stairs, only feeling a little guilty about how much more difficult it seemed for Pigsy to do this now that he wasn’t a kid.

Actually landing on the bed was probably the clearest memory MK had of the exchange, eyes cracked and struggling to stay open as he kicked off his shoes and fell sideways across his mattress. Pigsy pulled up his blankets, muttering something about MK having done a number on the room. “Pigsy?” he mumbled, trying to pull together at least one coherent thought before he went to sleep.

“Don’t worry about your shift, kid,” Pigsy replied absently. “I’m sure I’ll survive without you for a few hours while you catch up on some sleep.”

MK frowned. “No, I was-” he propped himself up on his elbows, “I wanted to say sorry for not… I want to talk about this stuff, you know?” Pigsy turned to MK with a furrowed brow, sitting next to him on the bed and urging him to continue. “And I will, as soon as I figure out how to- when I fix whatever’s wrong, then-” he managed around the lump of emotions in his throat. “I don’t think I’m explaining this well. I just… I’m just tired.”

“Kid, you save the whole damned universe,” Pigsy said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “‘Course, you’re tired.” MK opened his eyes again long enough to lie down properly, then buried his face into his pillow. “Hell, if I was you, I’d be sleepin’ for a week straight.”

“Yeah, great,” MK huffed out something he hoped sounded like a laugh, “saved the universe and now I gotta take a nap,” like he was a child throwing a tantrum, “because I can’t talk about my feelings.” He was certain that if he’d been less tired, the joke would have landed better, but the words, “Some savior I turned out to be, huh,” fell hard enough to crack his voice, and he clenched his teeth to stop his watering eyes from spilling over. “Sorry,” he whispered, an instinct he couldn’t shake.

There was a hesitation that told MK he’d be in for a long talk later, but Pigsy let the apology slide with a quiet, “You’re doin’ everything you can, son; you’re just scribblin’ with black crayons.” There was a hand in his hair, ruffling the strands fondly and sapping the little energy MK had left. “We’ll get it figured out, I promise.” The bed creaked as Pigsy stood. “Now, I better not see you downstairs until you’ve gotten at least four consecutive hours of sleep, capiche?”

Breathing out a laugh, MK gave a half-hearted salute, “You’re the boss, Dadsy.” With an approving hum, Pigsy left MK to his rest, pulling the door shut behind him with a barely audible click and retreating downstairs.

MK clung to consciousness just long enough to hear the familiar clatter of Pigsy in the kitchen, then surrendered to his exhaustion, lulled to sleep with a gruff voice mumbling along to the radio and the scent of his favorite noodles cooking downstairs. His heartbeat was a distant thought, and the world felt a little less tilted having the comfort of his old man within earshot, just a nightlight and a staircase away.

Rest was dreamless, perhaps too exhausted to conjure up any nightmares for him, and MK supposed he should be thankful for the small mercy while he had it. He’d regained some semblance of consciousness to a distant chorus of familiar voices and he struggled for a moment to truly wake up. It was tempting to let himself slip back into the gentle, rolling waves of sleep, but his eyes snapped open as someone began knocking fervently on his door.

The warm light of an overhead sun disoriented MK for a moment as he blearily reached for the alarm clock sat next to his bed, squinting at the hazy red numbers. The exact time didn’t really matter, he supposed, but it was noon- something, and he had a feeling that the voice attempting to break into his room wouldn’t be too pleased if he managed to sleep through breakfast and lunch.

“MK!” she shouted through the door that separated MK from the rest of the world. “MK, you better get your butt outta bed so I can kick it in the new Monkey Mech game!” Another voice shushed her, a panicked, reedy whisper that could only be Tang, but Mei paid him no mind, continuing her assault on MK’s door.

MK set down his alarm clock, the need to rest still clinging to him insistently, but less heavy than it’d been that morning. His nerves were less fried and his mind less clouded, and he figured that was the best he was going to get for the moment, so he dragged himself out of bed, not bothering to straighten the clothes he’d fallen asleep in or make himself in any way more presentable; if Mei was so bold as to disturb his slumber, then she could stand to see the tired monster she’d awaken.

The door opened to a startled Tang and green-sleeved arm halting mid-knock. “Woah,” Mei lowered her arm, looking only somewhat surprised at the state of him, “buddy, you look rough.”

“Really,” MK deadpanned, haphazardly pushing his bandana into place, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Mei hummed, “Piggy said you didn’t have breakfast,” she said, “so you’re coming down for lunch.”

Tang cleared his throat, “Pigsy also said he needed rest.” He looked to MK apologetically. “I tried to stop her, but-”

“S’alright,” MK yawned, jaw cracking with the force. “I probably shouldn’t sleep all day, anyhow, otherwise I won’t sleep tonight.” Not that there was any guarantee he’d sleep either way, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Slinging an arm over MK’s shoulders, Mei crowed, “Excellent! We’ll get some food in that belly, and then I can kick your butt all the way to the arcade and back.” MK laughed as he was dragged down the hallway. “Piggy!” Mei called from the top of the stairs, “Two bowls of noodles, please!” He was half-dragged down into the shop as Mei cheerfully skipped down the steps. “Extra hearty, for our growing Monkey Man.”

“Make that three bowls,” Tang called after them, making his way down the steps much slower than Mei and MK. “I still can’t believe you slept this long,” he noted while Mei busied herself with shoving MK into a barstool. “I don’t think you’ve slept in that late since you were fifteen.”

Pigsy grunted, “Hey, you’re the one always sayin’ I’m too hard on him,” he pointed out. “Thought you’d be thrilled to hear he’s sleeping in.”

Tang lifted his hands in surrender, “Hey, I’m not complaining,” he replied, “I’m just worried.” MK scrubbed at his eyes, blearily taking in his surroundings as Mei tutted at his haggard state. “Besides, my issue was that you worked him too hard,” Tang continued, “not that he got up for work at six in the morning.”

“Five-thirty,” MK corrected, “work starts at six.” He squinted at a pile of books. “Who’s homework?”

“Tangy brought them,” Mei chirped. “He’s gonna try being all studious and stuff, like Master Subhodi said.”

MK’s brow furrowed, realizing that while he had known about their time with Master Subhodi, they’d been a little too occupied at the time to really go into detail about it. “I thought you guys passed the, uh… the training montage thing. The tests, or whatever it was.”

Mei inhaled through her teeth. “Yeah, we didn’t really have time to finish our training? You know, with Azure trying to kill the Jade Emperor and all. So we didn’t exactly pass,” she shrugged, “but now that we’ve got a little downtime, we figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to, uh… you know, do a little growing.”

“I’m taking full advantage of the peace and quiet,” Tang declared proudly. “I feel like we’re less and less prepared every time the universe almost breaks, and I’m tired of being caught off guard.” He patted the stack of books. “Next time, I’m gonna have a whole arsenal of spells we can save the world with.”

Pigsy snorted. “Right,” he drawled, “which is why those books have been sittin’ there for the last half hour instead of gettin’ read.”

Scoffing, Tang replied, “Come now, Pigsy, I couldn’t possibly study on an empty stomach.” Pigsy rolled his eyes and handed Tang a bowl of steaming noodles. “Master Subhodi’s teachings aside,” Tang continued, cracking open his chopsticks, “with everyone in the world having some power at their fingertips, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to study up on all sorts of magics and arts. Mystic, celestial, demonic-” He pursed his lips in thought for a moment, “though I’m having trouble finding anything substantial on Chaos.”

MK straightened at that. “Chaos,” he echoed, catching the two bowls Pigsy slid across the table and passing one to Mei. “You think learning about Chaos magic would help?”

Tapping her chopsticks against her bowl thoughtfully, Mei pointed out, “I mean, that’s the thing that caused this whole mess, right?”

“I guess,” MK said slowly, “I just- I kinda thought sealing away the Primordial Chaos meant that we, uh… like, wouldn’t be worrying about it anymore?”

“Not worried about it,” Mei replied, scooping a bite of noodles into her mouth. “Jus’ wanna learn ‘bout it.”

Tang nodded, “Precisely.” He ruffled MK’s hair affectionately, “And thanks to you, we have all the time in the world to do it.”

Cracking a hesitant smile at the praise, MK turned to his bowl of noodles. “Until someone finds a brand new way to start an apocalypse, you mean.”

Mei scrunched her nose playfully, “Nah,” she said, waving a flippant hand. “Who’d start a new apocalypse against three-time reigning champs of world-saving?” Her gaze turned thoughtful. “Oh- actually, don’t answer that.”

“Redson?” MK asked.

“Redson would totally start an apocalypse,” she confirmed. “He, like, casually created a botched Samadhi Fire, you know, for funsies or world domination or whatever.” Setting down her chopsticks, Mei slipped a phone out of her pocket and scrolled furiously through her gallery of pictures. “It was the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life, but in a real scrungly way. Like, the world was almost destroyed by the world’s ugliest pug, but,” she shoved a picture in MK’s face, “how could you be mad at this face?”

MK squinted at Mei’s phone, perplexed by the elaborate containment system and the vaguely canine-shaped ball of fire it held, “How did this thing almost destroy the world before I did?” He gently pushed the screen out of his face. “Did, uh- does Redson still have the Samadhi Dog, or…?”

“Yeah,” Mei admitted, “but it’s all good!” She swiped across her phone screen, showing MK a picture of a much smaller, harmless looking creature sitting in a glass jar, “It turned into this after we did some magic ritual thing to make it not on fire anymore, so problem solved!”

“Okay, good,” MK could feel his shoulders ease, relief washing over him, “I mean, I like the guy, but I do not want to think about Redson with a superweapon. That- that’s actually nightmare fuel, I think.”

Tang hummed in agreement, “Very bad for our health.” He plucked a book off his studious pile. “And all the more reason to get studying.”

Mei blew Tang a raspberry. “I don’t have to study to take down ol’ Red Boy. I have the OG Samadhi Fire right here,” she thumped her chest proudly. “I’ll take on that apocalypse single-handed.” She nudged MK’s shoulder, “You don’t mind me taking a turn with the whole ‘world-saving’ thing, right?”

Poking idly at his noodles, MK admitted, “I’d rather nobody take a turn actually. If the world could just, uh… not end, that’d be great. Fantastic, even.”

Pigsy grunted, “I’ll second that.” The shop owner gave MK’s bowl a pointed glance, a silent prompt to finish lunch that he obeyed with little fuss, his lack of breakfast starting to catch up with him now that he was a little more awake. “I oughta make a swear jar for this stuff, keep you morons from talkin’ destiny and apocalypse in my shop.”

MK couldn’t help but agree with Pigsy’s sentiment, already losing the little appetite he’d regained just hearing the words, though he did continue eating if only because it gave him an excuse to not contribute to the conversation. His gaze trailed to Tang’s open book, scanning a page full of sigils and their meanings. He wondered vaguely if he should ask Monkey King about them sometime. The sage had mentioned that he’d still had a lot to teach MK just before he’d-

And the seals and sigils seemed like handy magic to know, anyway. There weren’t a small number of allies and enemies that had used them, so it probably wouldn’t hurt to do some studying up. He wouldn’t want to start with anything as complicated as what Redson had used to get them to the Celestial Realm or whatever seal Monkey King had used on his powers, but-

His eyes darted to his hand, curling into a fist at the memory of a gold circle, the magic at his fingertips tightening around a mane of auburn fur, a scream piercing the air, and MK decided maybe he’d rather not learn such sigils, after all.

The hand on his shoulder ripped him from his thoughts so violently that the chopsticks in his hands snapped. “Wha-” His head shot up to see Mei’s hand hovering over his arm, concern flickering across her expression at the sharp crack of broken utensils. “Uh, sorry. What?”

“Dude,” Mei chuckled, though there was an anxious edge to it that made guilt swirl around his already churning stomach, “you zoned out on us, Monkey Man. What’s the last thing you heard?”

MK’s brow furrowed, struggling to recall the last bit of conversation he’d heard, not realizing that it’d simply continued around him. “I think Pigsy mentioned a swear jar?”

Tang inhaled sharply through his teeth. “Well, that wasn’t the last thing we were talking about.”

“You only zoned out for a minute or two,” Pigsy assured him. “We were just talkin’ about what other words I need to ban.”

Mei huffed, “You can’t ban the word ‘chaos’, that’s literally just our day to day lives. I thrive on chaos, Piggy, you can’t take that from me.” She looped an arm around MK’s shoulders. “Plus, it’s part of MK’s super official title! Y’know, like, Really Cool Sage, Destroyer of Heaven, or whatever Monkey King calls himself.”

“Okay, Mei,” MK said, untangling himself from her grasp, “I love you, man, but if you ever actually call me Harbinger of Chaos, I might have to launch you into space.”

Undeterred, Mei gasped excitedly, “Oh, launch me and Tangy!” she exclaimed. “We never got our space adventure.” The phone she’d left resting on the counter began buzzing insistently. “My mom,” she explained shortly, “I’ll be right back.” She jabbed a finger in MK’s direction as she walked away. “Seriously, though, I wanna see the cool moon lady and her pet rabbits, send me to the space garden!”

“Don’t send me to the space garden,” Tang interjected as Mei retreated to the other side of the shop. “No offense, but Pigsy said Monkey King’s rocket was barely passable, and I’m not sure you even know what a spaceship looks like outside of a videogame.”

“Not really,” MK confirmed. “I was kinda picturing something from Cosmic Pillagers.”

Tang gave MK a dubious look. “Tell me that’s not the name of an arcade console.” MK’s gaze darted back his bowl, pointedly not telling Tang what he’d attempted to fly them to the moon with. “Your silence speaks volumes, MK.”

Pigsy snorted, “You were gonna fly us to the moon in an 8-bit UFO?”

MK shrugged. “Look, I didn’t even know rocket mechs were an option until Monkey King said something, a UFO was just the first thing that came to mind.” He pushed his mostly empty bowl and broken chopsticks across the counter, “I think I could pull it off now, probably. Monkey King never even made a rocket before, and he did fine.”

Tang hummed, one hand idly tapping his chopsticks, and the other cradling his chin thoughtfully, “MK, you can teleport now, can’t you?” he pointed out. “Assuming there’s no planetary limitations to how far you can teleport, you might not even need a rocket to get to the moon.”

Blinking, MK realized, “Oh, yeah.” There was a time when a power like that would have been cause for celebration, a reason to drag his friends to the roof at three in the morning. He supposed he had been fairly occupied during the discovery, but even now it was barely noteworthy. It was a useful skill, to be sure, but it was also just one more power he’d have to learn the basics of and train relentlessly until mastered and probably fight someone with, eventually.

“Right,” Pigsy said flatly. “And, uh- what’s the plan if you miss the moon?”

“Eh, I think it’d probably be fine.” MK pushed his empty bowl aside, “You know what they say: if you miss for the moon, then you’ll aim among the stars, er- something,” He clapped his hands together. “Besides, I bet I could get to the moon, easy peasy!” Although, when he gave it more thought, “Hypothetically, if I did get lost in space, do you think I’d get to meet any aliens?”

Pigsy reached across the counter and bonked MK on the head with his ladle. “You’re not telelportin’ to the moon,” he said decisively, “and you’re definitely not hurling yourself into space to see if you meet any aliens.”

Mei, apparently finished with her call, bounded back over to the counter. “Aliens?” she gasped, clearly having only caught the last few words of the conversation. “We’re gonna go see aliens?”

MK grinned, “Like real life Cosmic Pillagers!” he exclaimed, not because he was agreeing with her that they would, just because it was fun to feed each other’s excitement. “Speaking of Cosmic Pillagers,” he turned to Mei expectantly, figuring he’d be dragged to the arcade now that they’d finished lunch.

But he was met with a hesitance; aliens forgotten, Mei’s beaming expression faltered a bit. “Actually,” she said slowly, “do you think we could take a rain check? My parents just called about a gala they’re attending this evening, and I kinda have to split now-ish if I want to get ready in time.”

And it really shouldn’t have been a problem, there’d be plenty of other days for arcade shenanigans with Pigsy forcing MK to take a break from work. “But you hate those galas,” MK protested anyway. “You used to sneak out through a hole under your garden wall to escape the dress fittings.”

“Yeah,” Mei chuckled, “but considering my whole year has been apocalypse after apocalypse after apocalypse, I’m kinda looking forward to spending time with my folks. Even if it is at one of their stuffy parties.” She gave MK’s shoulder a punch, “Plus, you kinda still look like you wanna fall over,” she added. “So, maybe you rest up today, and I’ll drag you to the arcade tomorrow?”

It was such a reasonable request, and MK couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he wanted so badly to tell Mei, no, he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow. It was the whiny sort of childishness that he’d long since left behind him, unbefitting of someone who’d recently saved the world three times.

Distantly, he heard himself reply with an assuring, “Yeah,” and snapped back to himself. “I mean, it’s not like the arcade is going anywhere,” he reasoned, crushing down the urge to wheedle Mei into spending time with him. “Just make sure you livestream,” he told her, “so I can see whatever gaudy nightmare your parents put you in.”

Mei groaned, “God, it’s probably gonna be terrible; they always want me to wear something uptight and formal.” Then her gaze turned thoughtful, “Although, I wonder if I could request something like that dress Ao Guang’s seamstress made for me. Something nice and flowy and good for running.” She clapped her hands together. “Oh, I bet I could get them to let me add an actual sheath for my sword!”

“Not if you don’t get going,” MK said, urging her towards the door. “And, seriously, I better get so many pictures.” He dodged her swatting hands, shoving his giggling friend through the wooden curtain, “If you’re not running around with at least two ribbons and a bedazzled sheath, I’m disowning you.”

“Disowning me?” Mei managed through a laugh, “MK-”

“Disowning you!” MK sang. Shaking her head fondly, Mei waved him off and started in the general direction of her house. He watched until she turned a corner–a street further down than usual, MK noted, meaning there were probably some repairs being made down the usual streets. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence since the three different apocalypses, not to mention the several neighborhood blocks that got destroyed every time Tim and Jim–or whatever those twin demons called themselves–started causing trouble.

There was a beat of silence, MK staring out into the bustling streets and trying to ignore Pigsy’s gaze boring into the back of his head. He’d almost been able to ignore how different the world had become in the safety of the noodle shop, but even just crossing the threshold seemed so daunting when MK could see a taxi driver picking up his own cab and setting it down curbside rather than attempt parallel parking.

“What’cha thinkin’, kid?” Pigsy asked.

MK closed his eyes for a moment, “I think,” he started slowly, “I’m gonna go to the arcade.” He nodded, mostly to himself, and tried for something more convincing, “Yep! I’m not wasting a perfectly good day off just because Mei wants to go to her parents’ stuffy party.” He scuffed his sneaker against the ground, not quite willing to look Pigsy in the eye. “Besides, with all the streets getting rebuilt and stuff, I figure it’s not a bad idea to map out my new routes for when I start doing deliveries again.” He cleared his throat, “Not in the near future, but, y’know, whenever it happens.”

Pigsy hummed, a dubious, doubting thing, but he didn’t argue with MK about it. “Don’t get yourself lost,” he advised instead, letting MK take the option of having space over getting rest..

“He could always teleport home,” Tang offered. “It’d be good practice for future moon travels.”

“Will do!” MK grinned, turning to shoot his fathers a pair of finger guns as he backed out of the door. “If I’m not teleported back to this kitchen by dark, feel free to grumble about it until I get home!”

He was chased out with some indistinct holler from Pigsy–something about Tang not enabling Mystic Monkey shenanigans. MK lingered just outside the noodle shop for a moment just to hear the light-hearted banter, trying to recall the last time he’d heard Pigsy call Tang a freeloader and coming up blank. He shook his head fondly and turned to the city, taking a fortifying breath before braving the busy streets.

The further he walked from the warm familiarity of Pigsy’s Noodles, the less sure of himself he became. As he’d suspected, there were a number of streets in various stages of repair, though none of them seemed too damaged, certainly not the worst the city had ever looked after an ‘end-of-the-world’ scenario. In fact, the more he looked around, the more he realized that the damage may not have been from the apocalypse at all.

The street that Mei had skipped was closed because of a leaking fire hydrant, and MK could only assume that the sheepish young man anxiously passing a ball of water between his hands was responsible. More than one of the buildings MK passed had a hole in it, one of them still smoking–he had stopped to investigate, only to find the local fire department had already handled everything.

As proud as he was of his city– of his world, really–for adapting to the changes as well as they had, the ups and the downs, it did make him feel just that much worse about his own shortcomings, his reluctance to accept how things had changed, and would change, how it would all be different from here on out, and not in a fixable ‘things could eventually go back to normal’ way.

This was the normal, from the child he saw turn invisible to avoid being tagged to the cat he watched walk up the side of a building. He was surrounded by what he would have once found extraordinary, and could only be wary of it, fear snaking around his ribcage and crushing his heart. Every particularly loud noise had MK’s head snapping to make sure no one was hurt, that no fires had been set, that no cars had started spontaneously floating, or whatever could go wrong–and there was a very long list of things that could go wrong.

All things considered, there weren’t as many detours as he’d anticipated; MK hadn’t been lying when he told Nuwa that the people of Earth weren’t weak, and they were adapting well to the complications of their newfound powers. He only wished knowing that did more to settle his nerves, unable to shake a needling anxiety even as he pushed open the door to his favorite arcade.

The world wouldn’t fall apart if he took the afternoon off to play games, he scolded himself, the city wouldn’t crumble around him if he took some time to enjoy a little peace and quiet. He skirted his way around a gaggle of arcade goers to a token machine, gathering his painted coins and shoving them into his jacket pockets. As soon as an employee noticed he was there, he’d probably be offered more, but he was aiming to lay low until that point and wandered the rows of games until something caught his eye.

It was kind of a moot point to go looking, since he did eventually loop back around to Monkey Mech, forever his go-to arcade game. He’d have to play the computer since Mei was presently unavailable for butt-kicking, but it’d be a nice warm-up to prepare for her brutality. He slipped the allotted tokens into the machine and took a breath, forcing his shoulders to relax, training his gaze on the screen and letting the arcade become ambient noise behind him.

By the time he’d chosen his character and an avatar for the computer to battle him with, he had just about wound himself down from the fight or flight mode that had plagued him since the wee hours of the morning. His thoughts were drowned with arcade music and the sound of his own rhythmic tapping, mashing buttons as soon as the game’s booming announcement declared, Fight! It was absolutely mindless entertainment and just the thing he needed to clear his head.

He wasn’t sure how many levels had passed–it was all a blur of punches and shouting, not unlike a real fight; the way he lost himself in it was similar, in any case–but his attention was swayed slightly by some rambunctious kids racing past him. At first, he didn’t care to know what they were doing, but as he watched one of them kneel before the coin slot of a game, he spared just a bit of focus to tune in.

Doing so cost him a round, but he still had two more lives and plenty of tokens to spare. As Monkey Mech loaded up his next round, the kids mumbled something about coins or tokens, pestering the one inspecting the slot and asking if he was really sure that his plan would work. Some part of MK wondered if he should intervene, but he decided that he was officially off hero duty, and remained only half tuned in while he played.

His lack of vigilance was rewarded with the sound of creaking, and MK had looked up just in time to see several small, silver chunks fly to a kid’s outstretched palms as though they’d been summoned there, and the arcade game began slowly collapsing in on itself. Everyone in the arcade stopped at the sound, the nearest turning to stare as the group of kids tried desperately to be as small as possible.

MK could distantly hear some employees shouting and the sound of his character dying a second time as he walked over to the pile of parts. “Hey, uh…” his sneaker carefully nudged one of the collapsed walls, “what was the plan here?”

Upon seeing the Monkie Kid, people went about their business, probably assuming the situation was handled. Two accomplices stood between MK and the kid staring dumbfounded at the pile of bits and bolts stuck to his hand. They glanced at each other with muted panic, and it wasn’t unlike the glances MK and Mei exchanged when their roughhousing got out of hand, and Pigsy was demanding to know what that noise he just heard was.

He smiled fondly at the memory as he pulled the staff from his ear. “Magnet hands, huh?” he asked. “Pretty neat trick you’ve got there.” He tapped the staff gently against the floor, willing the console parts to settle back into their places. “Hate to tell you, but the tokens here are made of brass, and they’re not magnetic.” The kid on the floor finally looked up, screws flying from his hand as the machine reassembled itself, “Screws on the other hand…”

Perhaps only just realizing how big of a mistake he’d made, or maybe just noticing how big of an audience that mistake had, the kid’s face began turning red with shame. MK felt a pang of sympathy, knowing how it felt to stumble through learning brand new powers and make a spectacle of himself. It was never a pleasant feeling, and although the rest of the arcade appeared to have moved on after seeing the game fixed, there were still a couple of people whispering–and there would always be whispers, even if they weren’t malicious, just people passing along a story; the neutrality of it didn’t make being a spectacle any less embarrassing.

“Check this out, though,” MK reached down to help the human magnet off the floor, hauling the kid to his feet and tilting one end of the staff in his direction. “Try that magnet on this bad boy.” He wouldn’t be able to hold the staff in any way, shape, or form, but MK could hold the staff and let the kid’s hand get stuck to it, no problem. There wasn’t much MK could do about them being embarrassed, but he could maybe offer them a memory good enough to drown it, something to look back on and laugh instead of cringing in shame.

The three kids exchanged furtive glances, like they were waiting for MK to spring a trap of some kind, but their curiosity clearly won out as a tentative hand cautiously lifted and stalled a few inches from the intricate, gold pattern that adorned the end of the staff.

MK felt the staff tug a bit in his hands–he hadn’t actually been sure if the staff would respond to something like a magnet, since it seemed to have a mind of its own about being handled, but he was relieved that it didn’t seem opposed to playing along–and he loosened his grip enough to let the staff slide through his palm. The kid recoiled a bit when the metal hit his hand, but then he blinked, eyes so wide that MK could see the neon arcade lights brighten his face, a small smile of wonder tugged at the corner of his mouth as he wrapped his hand around Monkey King’s staff. MK was still carrying the eight and a half tons of weight, but for all intents and purposes, the kid was holding the Monkey King’s most famous relic. “Cool,” he breathed.

“Way cool.” MK asked, lifting the staff slightly to see if the magnets would hold. The hand wrapped around the staff opened in surprise, but the magic held firm, and MK kept lifting until the kid dangled by the magnetism in his hand alone. “That is some serious industrial strength magnet power you got there , man.”

For a brief moment, MK considered if this would ever be an issue in a fight, but the magic that bound him to the staff seemed to respond more to MK’s desire to be a hero than anything else. So if he wanted the kid’s magnets to work, then they would, but barring Redson making another gizmo, MK assumed he’d be safe from anyone trying to magically magnetize his staff away from him.

He glanced at the other two kids, their skittish gazes melting into awe at their friend dangling from a single magnetized fingertip. “What about you guys?” MK asked, “What kind of magic mumbo jumbo you got going on?”

The tallest of them readjusted her glasses nervously, looking like she hadn’t really expected to be addressed. “I just, uh- I actually just turn invisible? It’s not as cool as, like-”

“Oh!” MK exclaimed, pointing at the girl enthusiastically. “I think I spotted you guys playing tag on my way to the arcade! Just a block or two down, right? You turned invisible and slipped right past a guy.” He tilted his head curiously. “Not sure why you think that’s not, like, super freakin’ awesome, but it totally is.”

“Ha!” the third crowed. “I told you it was cool!” He punched the girl in the arm playfully, and promptly earned a punch in return, though he hardly looked upset about it, “I said, ‘that was totally awesome! I can’t believe you dodged the fastest kid in class!’ but you were all like-”

“You can’t talk!” interjected the kid still hanging from the staff. “I’ve been saying that your hops are mad cool since day one, and you’re just as bad as she is about it!”

The ‘mad hopper’ in question scoffed. “So, I can jump high, that’s not cool! You guys are, like, superheroes, and I’m a sad rabbit boy. My superpower is frog, dude!”

Whatever shyness the girl had about her vanished at the deprecation. “You jumped over a house!” she exclaimed. Hopper blew her a raspberry and crossed his arms. “No, shut up,” she persisted, “you jumped-” she turned to MK, as though imploring him to believe her, “he cleared my two story house like it was nothing. I bet he could jump over a whole skyscraper if he tried.”

MK hummed. “You know, I met a real nice goddess lady on the moon who had these robot rabbits,” he mused, “sounds like you could give them a real run for their money in the ‘mad hops’ department.”

“Dude!” Magnet exclaimed, dropping from the staff and beaming up at MK, “Robot rabbits?” It was his turn to do some roughhousing, clambering to ruffle Hopper’s hair. “You can jump higher than robot rabbits from the moon.” He poked his friend in the cheek, and was swatted at for the offense, “You’re literally awesome and you have to deal with it, Sad Rabbit Boy.”

Glasses gasped, “Do you think you could jump all the way to the moon?”

“Uh-” MK interrupted, “maybe you try some slightly smaller experiments first, okay? Experiments that involve lots of adult supervision and no arcade games.” Suddenly reminded of their troublemaking, all three kids chuckled sheepishly, but looked a lot less embarrassed about the situation in general. “Now, I’m sure you’re all tired of hanging out with lil ol’ me,” he said, “you’re at an arcade!” Flicking his wrist idly, he shooed the giggling scoundrels out of sight. “Go on, get!” he called after them. “And get your tokens the right way this time!”

There was some shouted confirmation, but MK had a sneaking suspicion that there’d be more mischief in their future. Laughing to himself, MK put away his staff and went back to his game. It was still waiting for him to confirm whether he’d like to continue playing, his last heart blinking at him urgently. “Great kids,” he muttered as he geared up for another round. “Good thing I was here to fix that machine.” The kids would have been in a lot more trouble otherwise, and he doubted any of the parents would be thrilled to get that phone call. Pigsy certainly wouldn't have appreciated it, and MK would have probably been banned from the arcade until the end of time.

When he wasn’t so focused on how changed everything was, MK could admit that the new odd, normal world was a little easier to connect with when he did what he did best. He felt good to do a little hero work that didn’t involve stopping an apocalypse–not that a kid attempting to rob an arcade was a threat of any kind, but he felt like a pretty accomplished hero about the situation, anyway. He had to be a good role model even when he wasn’t fighting demons, and it was nice to be someone to look up to, someone that people could depend on. When the world stumbled, MK would be there to catch it, whether it be the end of the world or a broken arcade game.

Unless, of course, he wasn’t.

His hands stilled for a moment as the thought ran through his head a few more times, then he resumed fighting, cursing his divided focus and halved health bar. There wasn’t any point in dwelling on the what-ifs, he was gone and then he wasn’t, so there was no need to anguish over all the things that would have gone wrong if MK hadn’t come back.

But all the things that could go wrong, if he ever left again and couldn’t return, was a whole other track of thinking, and all of the trains on it crashed on impact at the realization. Some day, maybe sooner rather than later, MK’s morality would fail him. He wasn’t quite as indestructible as the stone Monkey King, and not nearly as immortal; the odds that he’d cheat death a second time were slim to none, and if another apocalypse should arise after MK was gone, what then?

Of course, Monkey King would always be around, MK tried to reassure himself, furiously smashing buttons to pull his thoughts above torrent waters. If and when MK did die again, it wasn’t like the world would be vulnerable. The people of Earth weren’t weak, and they’d be even more capable with the newly bestowed magic. Perhaps someday, the world wouldn’t need the Monkie Kid at all. It certainly never needed a Harbinger of Chaos.

MK watched the screen before him blankly as it turned black, red letters flashing a haunted looking You Died! across his reflection. His hands slid off the console, curling into fists at his side as a smaller, white text asked, Try Again? He supposed it was only fair that the universe got to mock him a little, he did go about defying fate and all.

He barely had time to register the second reflection in the glass as a cheery voice gave a sympathetic, “That’s unfortunate,” MK glanced over to see an arcade employee offering him a plate of tokens. “Saw you fix the game,” they explained, “tokens are on the house.”

Numbly, MK shook his head, “No, I’m- I gotta, uh… go.” He brushed past the employee with a muttered apology, all but darting out the door and back into the unforgiving afternoon sun. Blinking back a burn he attributed to the harsh change in light, MK summoned a cloud to swoop low just long enough for him to clamber on, then he sent it rocketing back into the sky. He was thankful the cloud seemed to mostly steer itself, as MK wasn’t sure he could even make out his own two hands through the wind-stung tears, much less fly himself to Flower Fruit Mountain.

It was sort of a last ditch effort, he supposed, the last place he could think of that might provide him with comfort. MK wasn’t sure if he could work up the nerve to seek out his mentor, he just needed somewhere quiet to collect his thoughts, and since the mountain was almost completely disconnected from the rapidly changing world around it, he figured it’d be the perfect place to clear his mind.

Pointedly avoiding anywhere near Water Curtain Cave, MK all but crash-landed on a ledge somewhere on the far side of the mountain. The nimbus dissipated under his hands, leaving MK to catch his breath on the cool, stone ground. “I’m okay,” he told himself firmly, “everything’s okay.” The mountain was far from a comfortable resting place, but MK was too tired to care, falling on his back unceremoniously and scrubbing at his eyes. “I am literally fine.”

MK spent a long few moments with the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, trying and failing to stop the steady trails of water slipping down the sides of his face. He took long, deep breaths to ease his tightening chest, clenching his jaw around any hiccups so that they were hardly a sound in his throat. The arcade tokens he’d forgotten in his pockets clinked quietly and the birds that had been frightened off by his landing gradually began singing again, the flora of Flower Fruit Mountain filled MK’s lungs with every steadying breath, and while he loved his city dearly, there was something almost addicting about the smell of flowers and crisp, mountain air.

Eventually, MK let his hands fall away from his eyes, swiping away the last of his tears and staring up at the sky above him. Tree branches swung lazily in the breeze and clouds rolled idly across a blue canvas as MK composed himself. “I’m okay,” he assured himself again, feeling marginally more confident about it, “everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” a voice echoed, and the air around MK darkened with a familiar presence. “Because you’re looking pretty rough to me.” MK glared as Macaque solidified above him, hovering with a smile and a raised brow. “Bad day, Misery Kid?”

MK heaved a sigh, “Great. Glad to hear that nickname stuck.” He turned onto his side and pulled the hood of his jacket over his head. “Look, I’m super not in the mood for whatever this is, okay? So if we could hold off on the teasing for, like, three to five business days, that’d be-” he tugged the strings dangling from his jacket, pulling the hood closed to cover his face, “yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

There was a beat of silence that made MK wonder if Macaque had actually slipped off, then, “Alright.” He could hear Macaque touch down somewhere nearby, clothes rustling as he got comfortable. Rolling over just enough to peek at the shadow, MK narrowed his eyes suspiciously through the small circle of space in his hood. “What?” Macaque asked. “You wanted me to lay off, right?”

“Well, yeah,” MK said hesitantly, “but you… what, you’re just gonna, like, hang out? Here?”

Macaque shrugged. “It’s my mountain,” he replied, “I can hang out wherever I want.”

“Pretty sure this is Monkey King’s mountain,” MK muttered, but he understood. This had been Macaque’s home once, and maybe it still was, in a way; if anything, MK was the intruder. “Are you here to give me some weirdly convoluted life lesson,” he asked warily, “because I think we established how not in the mood I am.”

“I’m here for the view,” the shadow corrected, “you can talk about whatever you want.”

Brows furrowed in confusion, MK sat up and pulled off his hood. He couldn’t yet discern if Macaque had any ulterior motives, but the view was nice, so he reasoned that Macaque wasn’t lying, at least. “I wouldn’t even know what to say,” he admitted. “So if you’re trying to get me to, like, spill my guts to you-”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Macaque interjected, which MK felt counted as teasing, but didn’t have the energy to argue about it. “C’mon, kiddo,” he wheedled, “I’ve been told I’m a great listener. Six-Eared Macaque, remember?” MK grumbled a bit and pulled his knees to his chest. “Brooding is more my thing, anyway,” he added, “it doesn’t suit you.”

MK grasped at his sleeves and hugged his knees tighter. “Why can’t literally anyone else ever find me when I’m like this,” he muttered bitterly. “Why’s it always you, with your weird, shady… probably only meddling because of some scheme, or something.”

“Hey, now,” Macaque protested in mock offense, “I think my meddling was pretty darn helpful the last time I found you brooding.” He raised an eyebrow, “But, by all means, if you’d rather talk to ‘literally anyone else’, you’ve got a noodle shop full of friends that are worried sick about you.” He nodded at the mountain. “Wukong’s just napping, go brood to him if you’re so bothered by me.”

Truthfully, MK wasn’t all that bothered by Macaque, certainly not enough that he was going to drag himself upright and walk away. “Whatever,” he said quietly, and his frustration reared again as Macaque gave a knowing chuckle. “Okay, seriously, if you’ve got something to say, then say it. Can’t stress enough how not in the mood I am for mind games.”

“I don’t have anything to say unless you have something you wanna hear,” Macaque said. “Any burning questions or revelations…” his gaze slid to MK, “any bad decisions you need someone to talk you out of.”

“You didn’t do a great job of talking me out of the last one,” MK replied dryly. “Good thing there aren’t any giant pillars of light to jump into, huh?”

Macaque hummed, “How was that, by the way?” he asked. “Jumping into the pillar?”

“I-” the words caught in MK’s throat for a moment, “it was… I mean, I don’t know, I just walked into it, man. It was easy.” He tittered for a moment, struggling to regain his usual, cheerful energy. “I guess that’s kinda what you want in a sacrifice, though, right? Easy, painless- like nothing even happened.”

There was a lull, just long enough for MK to realize that he’d done something yet again to warrant someone’s concern, and Macaque turned to give him an even stare, “Like nothing happened,” he echoed, “except, you know, the whole dying thing.”

MK swallowed back a burning in his throat. “Yeah, well, I don’t think I get to complain about that,” he murmured, “I knew what I was walking into.”

“Maybe not complain,” Macaque amended, “but you could certainly use a verbal punching bag of sorts.” He gestured to himself with some flourish, “And as your co-mentor, I think I’m qualified to give some advice on the matter.” He tilted his head curiously, “I mean, that’s what the chef said to go looking for, right? Someone to talk to?”

There was a retort on the tip of MK’s tongue, but it died as Macaque’s sentence registered. “How do you know that?” Macaque raised an eyebrow and tapped a round ear. “Oh, that’s- like, that’s not a symbolic name, you can… wait, how far can you hear?” he asked. “You’re not always eavesdropping on us, are you?”

Macaque snorted, “I know I don’t have the best reputation, but I’m not gonna spy on some kid and his noodle obsessed friends for funsies; there’s a literal billion more interesting things to listen to than Tang’s mindless rambles about Wukong.”

“Okay, I got it,” MK snapped in frustration. “You have super ears and you hate my friends, cool, can you just get to whatever stupid point you’re trying to make here?”

Heaving a sigh, Macaque simplified, “You have questions, I have answers.” He gave MK an expectant look, “Shoot.”

For a moment, MK wanted to refuse, but then he gave it more than a moment’s thought and realized that Macaque wouldn’t be offering help if he didn’t think MK needed it. MK needing advice was one of two things that could kick Macaque into slightly more helpful gears–the other being the literal end of the world. And, when MK gave it a couple more moments of thought, Macaque’s offer might not be as hollow as it sounded. “You said something once,” MK said tentatively, “back when we were looking for the Rings?”

“Did I?” Macaque asked.

“Yeah,” MK shuffled uncomfortably, “something about already having a taste of death. I don't wanna pry, but- well, you kinda gave me permission, so…” Macaque gave a noncommittal hum. “Right, so, uh- I mean, what was that like for you? Like, how did you deal with,” he gestured vaguely, an indication to his circumstances rather than the surroundings, “the dying thing?”

The shadow took a deep breath, expression pensive and melancholic. “What happened to me,” he said slowly, “was so incredibly different from what happened to you that I’m not sure telling you about it would help.” MK nodded minutely in understanding, his situation was quite unique, and he could only imagine that whatever had happened with the Lady was much worse than literally walking into the light. “But I can tell you that I didn’t handle coming back well.”

“It was weird, right?” MK asked. “Because ever since I’ve been back, it’s just- I feel so off, like-”

“Like you don’t belong in this world anymore?” Macaque suggested, and MK recoiled a bit at the bluntness, though he supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised; Macaque never had an issue being brutally honest with MK before . “Feels like everything ended and now you’re back, laying in bed for hours thinking, well, now what?”

“Huh…” MK leaned back on his hands and stretched out his legs, looking up to watch a flock of birds fly overhead. “Yeah, I guess that’s a big part of it.” His eyes narrowed in thought, “I mean, literally my only purpose was to be sacrificed, and it’s just… like, that was it. Now, what?”

Macaque chuckled. “Get used to it, kiddo,” he advised. “Destiny aside, you left the Mortal Realm and forced your way back in.” He fiddled with the collar of his scarf for a moment, “I’ve been around a long time, and it still feels a bit like my soul is somewhere it’s not meant to be.”

MK turned to glower at him, “Super helpful,” he deadpanned. Macaque rolled his wrist theatrically, giving a small bow. “So, is there anything I can do about it? Or am I just going to be miserable and out of place for the rest of my life, like some warrior I know?”

Tail twitching, Macaque curtly replied, “Scathing.” Guilt burrowed a hole into MK’s anger, his gaze flitting from the warrior’s icy stare. “You are out of place, MK,” he said firmly, “and you can be angry about it, cry about it, but no one is going to hand you a place in this world. If you want it, make it yourself, otherwise it’s just this,” Macaque gestured vaguely at MK’s haggard state. “And just this, forever? It’s not what you want, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” MK said flatly, “just make a place. It’s that easy, huh?”

“The only easy thing about it,” Macaque corrected, “is figuring out what you want from this life. The hard work is striving to be that person, every day, for the rest of your second life, even when the world doesn’t feel all that welcoming.” MK worried his bottom lip between his teeth, mulling the advice over. “So, what do you want from this? What kind of story do you want to be?”

A distressed sound escaped MK, “I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “I just… I thought I wanted this, being the Monkie Kid, but then I-” He pressed his hands to the sides of his head. “But after the Lady, all I wanted to be was a plain, old delivery boy again, and now I don’t know what to do.” His eyes wrenched shut for a moment, sorting through his own thoughts carefully, “I guess… I mean, I just wanted to help people, but-”

“And there you go,” Macaque praised. “Delivery boy, Monkie Kid, Harbinger of Chaos, none of that matters.” He reached over to give MK’s shoulder a small shove. “You want to help people. Frankly, I don’t know anyone better for the job.”

MK scoffed. “You can’t think of anyone better than the guy who almost destroyed the world three times?”

“No,” Macaque said firmly, “I can’t.” Somewhat surprised by the shadow’s insistence, MK’s moth clicked shut. “You wanna know something incredible?” his co-mentor asked, and MK nodded mutely. “You don’t get to decide how much difference you make in the world.” He picked up a stray leaf and spun it between his fingers by the stem. “You’re so focused on all this ‘end of the world stuff’ that you don’t see the real impact you make.”

Giving little more than a bitter snort, MK pointed out, “My biggest accomplishment this week was putting an arcade game back together.” With no small amount of sarcasm, he added, “Unless that console was secretly another demon-prison-box thing, not sure how much fixing it really did for the world.”

Macaque sighed, running a hand over his face. “It’s not just about the…” There were a few beats of silence, Macaque staring pensively into space as though wrestling with some internal debate. “Those kids you helped today,” he said finally, releasing the leaf he'd been holding, “do you want to know who they become?”

“Who they-” MK’s brow knitted, “What do you mean?”

“I can hear farther than most people can even comprehend, MK,” Macaque replied cryptically, “I hear everything,” which didn't clear up much of anything. “Do you want to know who they become?”

Shrugging helplessly, MK relented, “Yeah, whatever, I guess… yeah. Who do they become?”

“Astronauts.” MK’s head snapped up, lips parted in shock, though something in his heart soared in delight. “They meet Chang’e,” Macaque continued, “and tell her all about the day they swore they’d go to space together. Something to do with ‘robot rabbits from the moon’,” he hummed in amusement. “They’ll help inspire a new generation of space exploration, all because some noodle delivery guy at the arcade made them feel like superheroes after breaking a game.”

A lump of something painful lodged itself in MK’s throat. “That, um… that’s actually pretty great.” He couldn’t articulate it very well through the fresh wave of tears, but there was a swooping elation in his chest thinking about those three kids making it to space; it was the most comfortable MK had been with his own heart in the last few days, swelling his ribcage with pride–despite not even knowing their names.

“Yeah, pretty great,” Macaque agreed. “Not bad for a guy who doesn’t even belong in the Mortal Realm, anyway.” MK choked out a laugh, too appreciative of Macaque ignoring his barely contained sniffles to bother scolding him. “Even when you’re tired and mopey, you’re doing more good for this world than Wukong ever did.”

MK gave Macaque a withering glare, “I can’t tell if you’re saying that organically or if you overheard Monkey King say it to me, but I’m still super not in the mood to deal with the sass.”

At that, Macaque brightened with a cheshire grin, “Oh, he’s already admitted it himself?” MK’s glare hardened a bit, and the shadow lifted his hands placatingly. “Not the time,” he acknowledged, “no shit-talking Wukong, just advice.”

“Actually, your whole advice shtick sucks, too,” MK managed through a throat wired shut with unshed tears, “You always do this, and it always sucks; I didn’t want another taxing emotional conversation today.”

“Well, you’ve got one more before the day’s over,” Macaque told him. “You still have to explain yourself to the boss when you get home.” MK started to protest, but the shadow continued, “Yeah, you think you’re going to wait until tomorrow, but you won’t be able to sleep until you talk to him.”

“Fantastic,” MK huffed. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, “Can I ask you something?” Macaque tilted his head, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Hey, if you didn't want me asking questions, you shouldn't have offered up your co-mentoring skills; advice was your idea, I told you to leave me alone.”

Macaque hummed, “Make it quick, then,” he conceded, pressing a hand to his knee and standing. “I do enjoy our chats, but there’s a play in town I’ve been meaning to catch.” His tail flicked idly as he checked an invisible watch on his wrist. “You may be my favorite student, but you are not ruining my evening plans.”

“Gee, thanks,” MK drawled, and Macaque tapped his wrist with theatrical impatience. “Alright, look, just… what about you?” MK started, his mouth moving faster than his thoughts as he scrambled to expand his question, “Your reason, I mean. For being here? For finding your place, what was…” he laced his fingers together tightly, avoiding Macaque’s gaze. “What was the reason?”

“Good question,” Macaque mused, “with a complicated answer. It’s definitely a more selfish reason than, like, ‘wanting to help people’. You’re a much better person than me in that regard.”

“In most regards, really,” MK corrected. “Like, in pretty much all the regards, I’m a better person than you, I think.”

Nodding in agreement, Macaque admitted, “Yeah, probably.” He scratched at his neck idly, pursing his lips in thought for a moment before, “Not that it’s any of your business, but my place in the Mortal Realm has always been the same. I just, uh… haven’t bothered putting in the work since I got back.” He flashed MK a small, genuine smile, “I don’t have it together quite as well as you do, Smartie Kid.”

MK laughed, “Now, that’s a nickname I can get behind.” He stood and brushed off his jacket, not pressing Macaque any further on the subject, since the shadow seemed determined not to give a straight answer. MK had a feeling he knew the reason, anyway, it just would have been nice to hear Macaque admit it. “Man, I don’t feel like I have anything together,” MK said, flexing his legs and stretching his back to iron out the soreness creeping up his body. “I feel a little ‘falling apart at the seams’-ish, actually.”

“That’ll happen,” Macaque replied, jutting a thumb in the general direction of the city. “You should probably get back to your old man before you pass out here, he’ll be worried sick if you end up being home after dark.”

“Yeah,” MK agreed, “real stickler for curfews, that guy.” He rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands. “Alright, got any tips on teleporting? I kinda did it by accident last time, like, uh… a reflex or something.”

Macaque snorted. “Pretty sure your little light show works a lot differently than my portals.” As if to demonstrate, a swirling pool of darkness opened at Macaque’s side. “You’d have better luck asking Wukong or Tang.” He sidestepped, slipping through the shadows, the only clue to where he went being the hand in MK’s hair. “But in your current state,” he teased, rocking MK’s head around with the force of his ruffling, a far cry from the affectionate gesture Monkey King usually provided, but reassuring in its own aggressive way, “my advice is to walk home.”

Swatting at the shadow in vain, MK hissed out a, “You’re such a-” but Macaque vanished before he could finish the thought, “You suck!” he hollered to the air. “I hope your super ears can hear me call you a jerk!” But Macaque’s jab aside, MK had a feeling the shadow was speaking from experience about not teleporting while tired. Last thing he needed was to plant himself in the middle of evening traffic.

If nothing else, the long walk down Flower Fruit Mountain gave MK time to check his phone. He had an alert notifying him that Mei was online, and opening her stream revealed a very pleased looking swordswoman with a flowing gown and a whole tray of tiny sandwiches. There were a few confused, disapproving faces in the background of the video, but Mei appeared to be enjoying the gala regardless, which was really all that mattered. Even Mei’s parents, the brief moment they were on screen, looked fondly at their daughter’s antics.

He tapped out a quick, slayed! in the chat so that Mei knew he’d tuned in as promised, prompting her to gush over the dress design, and rather smugly declare that her scabbard should more than secure her place in MK’s will, as he couldn’t possibly disown her with a sheath so fabulous. MK chuckled to himself at the flood of hearts filling the screen in agreement, and laughed harder at the GIF of a sneezing dog that spammed the chat–no doubt Redson’s attempt at deciphering Mei’s language of cute pets.

Content with his update on Mei’s gala, MK slipped his phone back into his pocket and started for the city. The walk was long and winding, and he stopped every once and a while to say hello to any of Monkey King’s subjects he passed; it was a welcome change in pace from his usual racing up and down the trails for training or getting back to Pigsy’s to do deliveries, and he took the time to decide what he was going to say to the shop owner, since he apparently wasn’t waiting until after he’d gotten some rest to do it. He found that it was a lot less intimidating to think about now that his feelings were a little more sorted, and the walk was really quite pleasant despite mulling over how to discuss his death with his father.

By the time MK reached the bottom of the mountain, dusk had fallen over the city, street lights flickering on and the city nightlife slowly coming to life as he walked. MK must have driven the streets thousands of times doing deliveries, but there was a muted vibrance about the city at night that made it feel like a whole other world. Three stumbling club-goers waved to MK cheerfully where a businessman at lunchtime rush might have pushed past him, and one of them even offered MK a glow stick as he passed. It was so small, so trivial, but it made something in MK’s chest thaw a bit, and he rolled the small gift in his hands as though it were treasure.

It’d been a while since he’d gone on a walk through the streets so late, and there was a hum to it that he missed; the city never slept, but traffic was slow and quiet, music and voices drifted on the cool evening breeze. He was so caught up in gazing around that he almost didn’t notice that he’d made it home, the only thing disrupting his autopilot being a familiar neon pink glow.

Pushing aside the wooden curtain to Pigsy’s Noodles brought the scent of herbs and spices, and MK breathed the warm comfort as he poked his head in. “Home before dark!” he declared proudly. “You know the sign’s still on?”

“Must’ve forgotten,” Pigsy grunted, reaching over to flip the switch that’d turn off the lights outside the building. There was no way someone as routine-oriented as Pigsy forgot to turn the shop’s lights off–late by a second or two, maybe, but a glance at the clock told MK he’d gotten home at quarter after six, a whole fifteen minutes past closing time.

MK smiled to himself about nightlights and neon signs while Pigsy finished up in the kitchen. “How was business today?” he asked, spinning the glow stick between his fingers idly. “Need me back on deliveries anytime soon?”

Pigsy hummed. “I reckon we’ll be alright,” he said. “Had a lot of people in the shop for the dinner rush, if you can believe it.” At MK’s surprise, he swore, “Honest to god, folks sittin’ at the tables.”

“You mean those aren’t for decoration?” MK asked, “People other than Mei and me are supposed to sit in those?” He was rewarded with a carrot slice to the forehead, snickering a bit as he flicked it back across the counter. ”You know, I’ve noticed we’re getting more people sitting at the bar outside lately, too.”

“Yeah,” Pigsy replied, “I noticed. One of them just about took my face off.” MK hummed, remembering the girl who breathed fire after trying one of Pigsy’s spicer soups. “Did you see the other fireball that happened?” the shop owner asked, pulling the lid off a pot he had simmering. “Passed it on my way in today, big ol’ hole in the wall. Like a flaming wrecking ball came barreling through the building.”

Chuckling, MK confirmed, “Saw that, and an exploded fire hydrant not too far from here. Not to mention the arcade game I had to fix.” Pigsy raised an eyebrow at him, prompting a defensive, “Hey, I didn’t break it,” MK explained, “a kid with magnet hands thought he could pull tokens out of the machine through the coin slots, ended up yanking out all the screws instead.”

A spoon dipped into the pot, stirring lazily for a moment. “What a world,” Pigsy grumbled, ladling out a bowl of warm noodles and passing it to MK. “Things are gettin’ crazier by the day.”

“Eh,” MK shrugged, “I think it’ll work out.” He took the bowl from Pigsy, his stomach sharply reminding him how little he’d eaten as he cracked open his chopsticks. “Just takes time.” While Pigsy busied himself with making another bowl, MK tucked in–he almost immediately regretted not checking how hot it was, but it only marginally slowed him. “Thanks for dinner,” he mumbled to Pigsy around a mouthful of noodles.

Pigsy didn’t reply, merely pulling up the barstool beside MK and giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. They ate in comfortable silence, and MK took advantage of the quiet to think of some way to open the conversation that needed to happen. Macaque had a way of getting people to open up that MK envied, as trying to pry at those feelings himself proved a lot more difficult.

“You’re awful quiet,” Pigsy noted, breaking the silence only when he and MK had finished their dinner. “Somethin’ on your mind, kid?”

MK hummed, pushing aside his bowl and reaching for the uncracked glow stick. “A few things, yeah,” he admitted. “It’s, uh- I think I figured out why I’ve been so moody lately.”

Brow raised curiously, Pigsy prompted, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” MK rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, “so, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about… and there’s not, like, a nice way to say this, I guess, which is why I’m having such a hard time talking about it, but-”

A warm weight on his arm gave him pause, “Take your time, kid,” Pigsy encouraged. “I don’t need to hear it ‘nice’, I need to hear what I can do to help.” MK nodded, swallowing back his anxiety and forcing a steadying breath into his lungs. “Now what’s been keepin’ you up, huh?”

Wrestling just a few moments more trying to make the words softer, MK finally managed an ungraceful, “I, uh- well, I died.” A heartbeat of silence passed, an eternity of Pigsy’s gaze boring into the side of his head. “And I knew that, of course, it’s not, like, big news or anything, but I think it took a minute to really hit me.” He fiddled with the glow stick in his hands nervously, pointedly avoiding Pigsy’s gaze. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I think I got it,” Pigsy said slowly. “I mean, I ain’t ever gonna understand how it felt, doin’ what you did, but I think I get where you’re comin’ from.” The hand on his arm squeezed for a moment. “Seems like it’s hittin’ you pretty hard, kid–not that I blame you.” He leaned forward a bit, trying to meet MK’s gaze. “Is there anythin’ you need me to do?”

MK shook his head. “I’m not sure this is something we can fix. I left the Mortal Realm, and now I don’t… I don’t belong in it anymore.”

“Bullshit,” Pigsy retorted sharply. “What, just because destiny says that you- well, I’m not buying it.” He chuckled, low and dangerous, and MK had the distinct feeling that if there was a way for Pigsy to fight Nuwa himself, he’d do it. “I think we both know how I feel about all that fate and universe crap.”

Lifting his hands in surrender, MK placated, “I know, not the biggest fan myself.” Pigsy looked placated enough, so he continued, “But it’s not about destiny or fate, it’s not- it’s not about anything. I just died.” He cleared his throat, reaching for the glow stick to keep his hands occupied. “It’s not something people are supposed to come back from, you know, and being alive again doesn’t… something changed in me after the Pillar.”

He could tell Pigsy wanted to argue MK’s place in the universe further, but the shop owner relented, “Alright, I hear you.” He reached to take MK’s empty bowl, stacking it on top of his own. “I can see why you’re losin’ sleep over this, kid, I’m…” the shop owner set his jaw, biting back an emotion MK couldn’t quite pin down, “I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” MK offered. “It’s not like feeling out of place is the end of the world or anything.” The glow stick in his hands cracked a bit, a single swirl of yellow streaking through the plastic tube. “As long as Mei needs a gaming buddy, and you need a delivery boy, and kids at the arcade need a Monkie Kid, then I’ll be fine.” He glanced up at Pigsy, relieved to see some of the concern had eased from his shoulders. “I don’t need destiny to belong in the Mortal Realm; I already belong right here.”

“You’re damn right,” Pigsy agreed, voice strained with tears MK knew would only fall once he’d left the room. “The world never needed any destiny harbingers, anyway; we just needed a you.” MK smiled, methodically cracking the rest of the glow stick while Pigsy took their bowls to the sink. He’d usually have offered to help with the cleanup, but he knew he’d be refused, as Pigsy was only retreating to the kitchen to discreetly swipe away tears he thought MK couldn’t see. “You gonna talk to Monkey King about this?”

MK made an unsure noise, “Probably not.” He cupped the cracked glow stick to see it illuminate the darkness between his hands. “I mean, if he asks what’s wrong, I’ll tell him, but it’s kinda hard to get real in-depth about dying with someone who’s, like, a bajillion times immortal.” Pigsy hummed, running water in the sink and complaining about a splash, snatching a towel to scrub at his face–with a barely audible sniffle that MK pointedly ignored. “I, uh… actually ran into Macaque.”

At that, Pigsy turned, raising an eyebrow. “More shady advice, I take it?”

“Hey, he was pretty helpful with the Azure situation,” MK protested on Macaque’s behalf, “even if the videogame thing was kinda weird and convoluted, and not a great way to do lesson plans.”

Pigsy hummed, turning back to his dishes. “So, he gave you more convoluted advice, then.”

“Yeah,” MK sighed, “but it helped, I think. He really isn’t that bad a co-mentor when he’s not worrying about the world ending or, like, scary demon ladies that wanna kill him.” His gaze drifted to the counter tiredly, the grain in the wood blurring a bit as he yawned–the day’s emotional toll and full stomach both hitting him at once. “Maybe he’ll mellow out a bit, now that the universe is safe again.”

“We can only hope.” Pigsy replied, grabbing a towel to dry the clean bowls. “Maybe he and Monkey King can start figurin’ out their, eh… whatever they need to figure out.”

Pocketing the glow stick, MK slid off his barstool and made his way into the kitchen, “You know, I do think they’re getting close to a breakthrough,” he said, taking a freshly dried bowl from Pigsy and reaching for the cabinet door to put it away. “They got along well enough for us to escape the Underworld.” Pigsy gave him a dubious look. “They almost held hands when the world was ending,” MK insisted, “it’s progress. Maybe next time the apocalypse happens, they’ll manage a whole conversation.”

“Ah! No ‘apocalypse’! Pigsy said sharply, smacking MK with his drying towel. “I ain’t kiddin’ about this swear jar,” he warned. “we’re keepin’ the ‘end of the world’ words outta my shop.”

MK lifted his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright,” he placated, plucking the other bowl from Pigsy’s hands and putting it away, “no more ‘end of the world’ words.” Pigsy huffed in approval, then startled a bit as MK leaned down to wrap his arms around sturdy shoulders. His vocabulary could live without ‘apocalypse’ and ‘destiny’, and it gave him an opportunity to try some kinder words. “Thank you,” he mumbled, struggling to remember when he’d gotten too tall to hug his father properly and coming up woefully blank, “I don’t think I say that enough.”

Slowly, as though MK might break, Pigsy gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “Never needed to,” he replied, then he shifted to hug MK properly. “But I’ll take it over the apologies.” MK hummed into his shoulder. “Seriously, kid, me and Tang were thinkin’ about adding I’m sorry to the list of swear jar words.”

“Well, I’m gonna be in swear jar debt until you start letting me do deliveries again,” MK teased, pulling out of Pigsy’s grasp to offer the shop owner a mischievous grin, “Maybe if I get a good night’s rest, I can get back to earning my keep tomorrow, huh?”

Pigsy snorted, “You get a solid week of good nights’ rest, then we’ll talk about you gettin’ the keys to your tuk-tuk back.”

“Three nights?” MK wheedled as Pigsy nudged him in the general direction of the stairs. “Three really, really good sleeps, and then I can start delivering again?”

He’d probably get away with three nights of good rest if Pigsy’s softening expression was anything to go by, but the shop owner insisted, “Maybe five.” He nudged MK in the direction of the stairs. “I’m gonna finish closing up shop and head home. Got anywhere you need to be tonight?”

“Eh, maybe leave the spare key just in case,” MK said, “but I think I’m gonna go watch some Monkey Cop reruns and pass out.” Resting a hand on the banister, MK tacked on an extra, “Thanks,” because his excessive gratitude was better received than excessive apologies–though he was certain that Pigsy would catch onto the loophole soon enough. “For, you know, pretty much everything.”

“Get your tail upstairs and get some sleep,” Pigsy grunted. “I’ll see you in the morning, son.”

Smiling at the chef knowingly, MK teased, “Love you, too, Pigsy.” as he made his way up the creaking steps. It’d probably be a couple of hours before Pigsy finished cleaning up, and the quiet clattering of dishes and dull, pattering footsteps only tugged MK closer to the edge of sleep. He pulled his phone and glow stick out of his pocket, setting them both on the nightstand before wrestling his heavy limbs into some pajamas.

He still felt every bit as exhausted as he had that morning rearranging his room, but it was a much more comfortable kind of tiredness. Sleep called to him like a siren song and MK sank into the mattress willingly, cocooning himself in blankets and burying his face into the pillows. His heartbeat echoed softly in the cool sheets where his head lay, but it wasn’t the ominous, thudding warning it had been that morning, just a quiet, steady reassurance as his eyes drifted closed.

In the morning, MK’s eyes would open to the sight of a dull glow stick and the sun rising over a neon city, to the sounds of Pigsy’s grumbling and Tang’s enthused ramblings about his studies, to several puppy gifs from Mei letting him know just how badly she was going to kick his butt in Monkey Mech. With his heartbeat came the promise of another day and, destiny and fate and the universe be damned, MK would spend that day–and every day after–being nothing other than achingly, wonderfully alive.

[goodnightmemes]

MOCKINGJAY - PART ONE (2014) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ Start simple. Start with what you know is true. ❜

❛ I wish she was dead. I wish they were all dead and we were, too. ❜

❛ Please know how welcome you are. I hope you'll find some comfort with us. ❜

❛ I apologize. I wish you had more time to recover, but unfortunately, we don't have that luxury. ❜

❛ [name] was the one who was supposed to live. ❜

❛ This revolution is about everyone. It's about all of us. And we need a voice. ❜

❛ No one else can do this but her. ❜

❛ Obviously, we need to make it personal. Remind her who the real enemy is. ❜

❛ She can't handle it. The Games destroyed her. ❜

❛ People don't always show up the way you want them to. ❜

❛ I can't believe you're going through with this. You can say "no." ❜

❛ I won't say "rebels." These are senseless acts of defiance. And I won't legitimize them. ❜

❛ Never let them see you bleed. ❜

❛ To those who ignore the warnings of history, prepare to pay the ultimate price. ❜

❛ To murder innocent people, that costs everything that you are. ❜

❛ No, we were not part of any rebel plan. We had no idea what was going on. ❜

❛ I'm sorry. It's just a nightmare. ❜

❛ Will you stay with me? ❜

❛ Tell me what's happening. I'm good at keeping secrets. ❜

❛ If you want something, you just have to ask. ❜

❛ This is worth the risk. She's worth the risk. ❜

❛ You're not a prisoner. ❜

❛ If you wanna play a prisoner of war, fine. Stay here and rot. ❜

❛ The thing with revolutions, they're a tender flame. They need to be nurtured with a little kindling and warmth. ❜

❛ You know what could use a revolution? That hair. ❜

❛ I never knew anyplace could be so strict. ❜

❛ You know, everything old can be made new again. ❜

❛ Everyone's either gonna wanna kiss you, kill you, or be you. ❜

❛ And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies. ❜

❛ This how you greet an old friend? ❜

❛ Maybe I don't recognize you sober. ❜

❛ You'll never be able to guarantee my safety. I wanna go. ❜

❛ This has gotta be fast. In and out. ❜

❛ Any hope you can give them, it's worth it. ❜

❛ I can't help them. ❜

❛ You here to fight with us? ❜

❛ If you think for one second that the Capitol will ever treat us fairly you are lying to yourselves. ❜

❛ We know who they are and what they do. This is what they do! And we must fight back. ❜

❛ Fire is catching. And if we burn, you burn with us! ❜

❛ There is no progress without compromise. No victory without sacrifice. ❜

❛ Together, we will become an alliance to be reckoned with. ❜

❛ You don't like hearing a fight song at a funeral? ❜

❛ He's changed so much already. What are they doing to him? ❜

❛ You must love her very much to be able to forgive her. ❜

❛ And ask yourself, can you trust the people you're working with? Do you know what they really want? ❜

❛ I would never say what he just said. Not if they tortured me. Not with a gun to my head. ❜

❛ 'Cause I'm in pain. That's the only way that I can get your attention. ❜

❛ Little on the nose, but, of course, so is war. ❜

❛ What have they done to you? ❜

❛ Think about it. How will this end? What will be left? No one can survive this. ❜

❛ We have to get him out before they kill him. ❜

❛ I wasn't gonna leave him behind. I couldn't live with myself. ❜

❛ Talk about something. Anything. ❜

❛ You love him. I'm not saying in what way. Maybe you don't even know yourself. But anyone paying attention can see it. ❜

❛ I drag myself outta nightmares and there's no relief in waking up. ❜

❛ Takes ten times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart. ❜

❛ He's punishing [name] to punish me. ❜

❛ I suppose you're just gonna hide down here forever? ❜

❛ You know, you're the only real friend I have down here. ❜

❛ To make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry. But I found a much more valuable form of payment. Secrets. ❜

❛ Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake. ❜

❛ I don't imagine you're calling to thank me for the roses. ❜

❛ I never asked for this. ❜

❛ Please, just let him go. I will disappear. You will never have to see me ever again. ❜

❛ You couldn't run from this... any more than you could have run from the Games. ❜

❛ Please. You've won. You've already beaten me. Release [name]. And take me instead. ❜

❛ We're long past the opportunity for noble sacrifice. ❜

❛ I've always kept my promises, haven't I? ❜

❛ I doubt you know what honesty is anymore. ❜

❛ It's the things we love most that destroy us. ❜

❛ It's the worst torture in the world. Waiting, when you know there's nothing you can do. ❜

❛ Whatever strength, courage, madness, keeps us going, you find it, at times like these. You have it. It's what's kept you alive all this time. And it won't fail you now. ❜

❛ They let us go. ❜

❛ They turned him into a weapon. To kill you. ❜

❛ The fear is the most difficult thing to overcome. We're hardwired to remember fear best. ❜

[writingsofwesteros]

chained beneath the waves :)

Oh, Alicent avoids looking at Rhaenys 🥺 Rhaenys' knee buckles momentarily in her shock at seeing Alicent there suddenly, but she is able to hide it behind Corlys and has to keep a straight face because only her and Corlys know of them, but gods.. seeing her here.. the last time she actually set eyes on her was when she escaped King's Landing during Aegon's crowning. When Alicent stepped in front of him.. closing her eyes as if she thought Rhaenys actually capable of burning them, of burning her... it's secretly haunted her ever since, that she thought her capable of that, and now here she is. And still, she won't look at her :(

Alicent is too afraid to look at her and see the burns left by Aemond and Vhagar, too afraid to see Rhaenys bear any evidence of other injuries from arrows or bolts from or slashes from the Triarchy's men... too afraid to look at the Sea Snake who's eyes she feels burning into her, surely he knows of them by now.. she thinks he must despise her... oh how wrong she'll find herself to be later on...

Aegon and Jace just ignoring each other lmao these boys. They're both far too happy to have a chance at having both the women they desire tethered to them, they can ignore each other for now.. until they can't... two jealous, possessive boys... they'll come to a head eventually, oh that'd be delicious..

I imagine Aemond and Daemon are by and far pissed off about it and want to keep fighting. Otto and some greens protest greatly, the point of Aegon is not wanting a woman on the throne. Daemon and some blacks also protest greatly, insisting she can't keep any opposition alive. But many supporters on both sides are secretly relieved and find the compromise to be acceptable, relieved Rhaenyra offered it and that Aegon accepted, having lost many or witnessed any of the bloody battles and sieges, just wanting the dragons to stop dancing amongst themselves in the realms. But one thing the half-siblings seem to share is a mirrored thought: what the fuck was the point of all this then?

Whether they like each other or not, they both start to wonder after the bloodiness that was Rook's Rest and the Battle of the Gullet, and how the family itself is so divided, how long before their own house tore itself apart and led to it's own ruin, how long before they make kinslayers of themselves, or lead to their dragons dying? The risk is too great, something they agree on. Aegon is secretly relieved, I think. He never wanted to be king in the beginning. He was never taught anything of it, of how to rule, they just needed a puppet to keep his sister from getting it. Now he'll have time.. to learn.. to actually be given a chance to try, to be a good king later on, even if he has to do it with Jacaerys.. plus, it would help eventually with them close, I think, Rhaenyra doesn't know her siblings. Truly know them. And they know nothing of her but growing up with this looming threat of her taking their heads if she got on the throne... Rhaenys may help her with that, as she was so close with them... before anyway.. I'd imagine she can't blame them if they hate her and feel betrayed, so she avoirds them at first, thinking they want nothing to do with her now... hopefully, this olive branch will rectify that. Though I believe Rhaenyra will have to make a sacrifice as well, as Aegon is sacrificing the throne to bend the knee until he gets it back way later on with the other 3... maybe she has to make the hard decision that Viserys was too cowardly to do.. punishing Luke for taking Aemond eye, finally making Aemond agree to stop fighting and take the knee for her.. maybe Luke will have to give his eye, an eye for an eye.. he may accept it, out of guilt over taking his uncles eye those years ago during their childhood tift..

Aemond would delight in the thought of taking his eye; the fear Luke shows at the beginning before he becomes accepting of what is to happen. The act near happens; until the one eyed Prince remembers the sweet boy he used to be. He remembers his mother. Annoyed with himself, he grabs the knife Luke was about to use and throws it in the fire before leaving.

"Did you really think he would do it?" Aegon chuckles; his fingers dancing on his own dagger and for a moment he thinks of doing this for his brother. He can protect him. He can give him revenge..alas, he realises that is not what his brother desires.

[hotmonkeelove]

Do you know why in one databook of naruto Masashi Kishimoto said that the relationshio between orochimaru and anko was intense? And in what page of one of the databook he compares a tecnique like lovers suicide? For me, anko loves him since a long time and orochimaru too but when she grew up! ♡

Here's the link to the first source pace. The pages on Anko are 122-123, where her relationship with Orochimaru is described as intense/ very deep (depending on the translation, but it means the same thing). Page 206 is where the Twin Snakes Mutual Death/ Twin Snake Sacrifice jutsu is compared to a lover's suicide. Here's my post on that, where I cite Narutopedia as my source. I don't own it personally. I can only point to the online sources/ translations.

As to why Kishimoto said that, I can only give you an educated guess. So here goes, I can't see how Anko wouldn't have been in awe of him/ crushing on him big time when she was his student. He was a Sannin, he was still the favourite to succeed the 3rd Hokage at the time, he thought she had incredible potential- short of having a kekkei genkai (the Sharingan is the only reason he gives for Sasuke having more potential than her), the fact he accuses her of being jealous of Sasuke, his intelligence and how (though he held some stuff back) he taught her everything she knows, and how, despite everything, she still copies his behaivours. I mean, if she really hates him that much, you'd think she'd quit waving her tongue around like she idolises him. Not to mention, she still keeps the photo of the two of them together on her headboard. To have someone's photo be the first and last thing you look at each day, they have to be very dear to you. I think she feels a hell of a lot of guilt for the things he did, but he'll always be the only one who means the world to her. No one can take his place.

With Orochimaru, he must have seen her as his "pet." Recall when Sakon reveals his curse mark to Sasuke, he says, "Did you think you were Lord Orochimaru's only pet?" Pawns get experimented on like easily disposable lab rats. Curse marks are reserved for his most valuable pieces. And the Heaven's curse mark is the most powerful of them, which is why he risked it on Sasuke. I would also go further with the snake summoning contract. Orochimaru has (that we know of) initiated only three others into a pact with Ryuchi Cave. Those are Kabuto, his right-hand man; Sasuke, his ideal vessel; and Mitsuki, his child, whom he hopes will be the Moon who aides the Sun in saving the world during the next great conflict. That's a pretty exclusive group, and the snakes are not especially welcoming. He must've had a lot of faith in her and viewed her as a valued apprentice, not simply a student or subordinate. Also, in their team photo, it's just the two of them. She doesn't have teammates till the Chunin exams, when they're required. Jiraiya is not shown with only Minato, but two other students we never see or hear about again. It must've been the two of them for several years and she must've been very important to him. Otherwise, why would he bother?

I get the feeling that there was a Genji/ Murasaki element there (in The Tale of Genji, Murasaki is the young girl he abducts, educating her to be his ideal woman, and eventually marrying her. She remains devoted to him, despite his faithlessness, including a marriage to another woman. She tells him she wants to be nun, but he won't let her, and she dies soon after). Then there's the story that most likely influenced Anko's character and relationship with Orochimaru, The Tale of the Gallant Jiraiya, which the Sannin are based on. Orochimaru is the master of snake magic. He is betrothed to a princess, but she becomes frightened of him as his villainous behaivour worsens. Jiraiya and Tsunade end up rescuing her.

[dulcemaiden]

The coming conflict between O!Ciel and Snake

In the recent events of Doll coming back to the manga and diverse opinions about which side Snake will choose, there is something I haven't seen anyone consider that can become crucial to this dilemma: The mysterious incident of Snake keeping silent about OCiel sneaking into the tents of the first strings in Noah’s ark circus. Why he did?

The anime played for laughs that it was Wordsworth the one who didn't tell and Emily scolded him.

But in the manga is different, because it was Snake himself. Smile was caught up by Wordsworth, and we all know the rest: Doll found him, grabbed Wordsworth and gave it to Snake telling him to keep the snakes inside his tent (curiously, it's the same snake that Doll caught in F.O.L.)

Actually, Wordsworth told him that precise moment what was really happening, and Snake seemed nervous and trembling, not knowing what to do: Doll was hiding Smile, who had sneaked into the tents of the first strings. He would have done something about the intruder inmediatly, but this time it was Doll who intervined. Unsure of what to do, he walked away and kept silent about the situation.

But when Snake got in his tent, his snakes must have told him how they were tied up in knots by Black, and that Smile went to investigate the tents. Given how alarmingly suspicious the situation was, and how all the first strings could be in a potential danger, he finally decided to tell Joker. When he was asked why he took his time to tell them, he couldn't give a proper answer.

So he only kept silent because of Doll.

If this assumption is correct, the whole dilemma between Snake and OCiel worsens. Unlike the rest of the circus members who irrumpted in Ciel's manor, and Joker who was with Kelvin, Doll was alone at that time, and she was actually the only one who died under OCiel’s command. Snake has seen how skilled is Sebastian when it comes to kill...

So he won't believe that Doll was a real threat to them. Snake is also aware that she hid Smile from him and his snakes, and from the others first strings in an attempt to protect him, but OCiel still took her life, and that won't be a forgivable thing for Snake.

I've read opinions that in hopes that Snake will keep loyal to OCiel and the servants, expects that he will prefer them because unlike the circus troupe who kept him in the dark, he is one of them now. But maybe that would be underestimating how deep Snake's love for Doll might actually be.

She was the first one who reached a hand out to him, and she took care for him back then. His first reaction to see her again was to effusively tackle hug her while crying. We still have to see Snake's flashbacks, but from the little we have seen, Doll is practically the main one in his memories when it comes to the circus troupe.

Maybe there is the possibility that if OCiel explain to Snake about the children's abduction for Kelvin, and how the servants protected themselves and Lizzie, with time Snake will comprehend it, but he still won't comprehend why OCiel spared his life and not Doll's, not after she went out of her way to protect him, because even if Doll tried to kill OCiel later, Snake tried to kill him too.

Even more so, I don't think OCiel will try to justify himself, since he feels guilty about Doll's death.

Back then, when Snake tried to avenge the circus troupe, OCiel had every reason to kill him: Snake had tried to kill OCiel and killed a guest by mistake, he was not innocent and he was a danger. It is hinted that he let Snake live mainly because he reminded him of Doll.

I would like to point out that OCiel is a more empathetic person than most fans give credit for. He is aware that Doll trusted him and genuinely cared for him back then.

And he had to got rid of her, seeing her as a sacrifice. Doll's death was one that deeply traumatized OCiel as we see in his nightmare in ch95.

He probably don't even judge her, as he didn't judge Joker back then, as Yana mentioned in her blog years ago. You can read it in this post traslated by @akumadeenglish.

No matter which way it goes, this conflict will be inevitable, which is really sad for both OCiel and Snake, because they have grown to genuinely care about each other.

And to finish this post, I personally think that out of all the circus troupe, the fact that it was Doll the one who has returned makes sense from a narrative perspective; because she is the central character between Snake and OCiel: Snake let OCiel had his way in the circus because of Doll, and OCiel let Snake live because of Doll.

[regnismemorias]

"Fuck you, fuck me, and fuck all of them." - Nathaniel leaving before Lia has the chance to tell him the ✨news ✨

Bloodshot, jade green eyes. Mascara-stained cheeks. Throat raw from desperate pleas turned screaming match when they fell upon deaf ears. She never shouts. Never yells. It's rare enough to ever see her so exasperated, but he pulls it out of her. Forces it out of her. Makes her out to be the monster she fears that she is. She catches a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror—a trembling, delicate hand presses against her stomach.

It's a misunderstanding that chases him out of the door & into the frigid night air, but the damage his words had wrought is done.

'Fuck you.' A dark, misty evening. Fog rolling in amongst a field of bright, white roses. Drawing closer to decrepit stone walls, a lane of flowers lay trampled, ripped violently from their roots & splattered in deep crimson. In the clearing, a crumpled, fur-laden body, broken & battered. Their first meeting. She didn't know what more than visions of near death & unrest brought her to him; what fate beheld her as she dragged his massive canine form away to safety. Even when he roared awake, the clawed hands of a beautiful man violently slamming her into a wall, eyes wild with confusion, fangs bared & dripping with venom, she remained. Comforting hands faintly cradle his face. 'It's okay. You're safe. I've got you now.'

'I've got you.'

'Fuck me.' Tinkling laughter filled the bedroom as bare limbs wrestled beneath soft, billowing sheets. His hands, deadly as they were, sought to tickle & caress her smooth, angelic skin. To offer her the softness she afforded him in kind time & time again. Even so, he was still a dangerous being. It took him no time to catch her—as if he even had to try. He held her impossibly close, then, her back against his chest, one arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand at her throat. Her hand snaked up his wrist to quietly guide his knuckles to her lips. She could feel him tremble slightly through her kiss. 'Fanny-?'

'Never leave me, Ophelia.' Their first confession.

'...I love you, too.'

'And fuck all of them.' This isn't their first fight. She's lost count of how many times his harsh, cutting words left her heart bleeding in her hands, wounded & scarred. Couldn't fathom the hours she'd spent waiting wide-eyed & afraid in the night for him to return after storming out of the door. The wasted tears, the unearned apologies, excusing his anger, his rage, his obsession for vengeance against an immortal force that tore apart his family only for him to turn around & do the same thing to her. To them. To their unborn baby.

'Nathaniel, I know you want to make him pay for what he's done, for what he's stolen from you. I understand-'

'NO, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!' His fist slammed into the wall. 'I have been hunting down this- this foul, loathsome, vile cocksucker for centuries to avenge my mother and father, and I will not throw away my closest lead at your mere, quivering insistence!'

'I don't want to lose you! Please, just listen-'

'I am more than willing to die. I have sacrificed everything!'

'AND WHAT ABOUT MY SACRIFICE?! WHAT ABOUT ALL OF THE TIMES I'VE ALMOST DIED BY YOUR SIDE?!' Her nostrils flared, flaming hue adorning her face & neck. 'You would have never gotten as far as you did without my help. You'd still be broken in that field, licking the salt from your wounds if I hadn't found you! If I had abandoned you! If I never loved-'

She drew a sharp, stinging breath in, lungs aching & heavy. Apprehensive digits reach out to take his stern face in hand, urging him desperately into her waiting embrace. 'Stay with me.' Leaning up on her toes, she pressed her forehead against his, eyelashes fluttering closed as her chest heaved. 'There will be another chance to find Felderod. We'll do it together, just as we have been. I won't leave you. So, please. Please, just... don't go.' She reached for his hands to press them against her abdomen. 'Nathaniel, I-'

'If you won't help me, then you're just in my way.'

Her eyes shot open to gaze into his hardened, sinister stare. In one quick movement, he yanked her hands from his face, grabbed his keys & turned for the door. He stopped, his hand tightening around the doorknob.

'If you won't help me... then you're useless.'

It had been hours since he left, his words ringing in her ears as she lay slumped against the front door. She didn't know when she fell to the floor, nor when the painful, violent sobbing had ceased to rock her frame. Her hand never left her stomach, as if she could have shielded the unborn life growing inside her from the agony they faced together. Protected it from the new reality she was forced to endure.

This isn't their first fight. It was their last.

[caduceuss]

#𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐒𝐒    -    private    &    selective    /    mutuals    only    BAIZHU    of    GENPACT.    highly    NSFW    and    dark    themes    present.    DO    NOT    FOLLOW    IF    TRIGGERED    BY    SNAKES.    minors    do    not    interact.    mun/muse    25+.    heavily    headcanon    based.    MULTIVERSE    /    MULTISHIP    /    AU    /    CROSSOVER    /    OC    /    DUPLICATE    friendly. penned    by    Goose    (    29    /    she    +    her    /    CST    -    5    ) carrd.  -  art credit. -  temp.

𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬: @eunoirous , @zhongshen , @raeso , @foliarlight , @ksharhrewar

𝐈. This blog is PRIVATE, SELECTIVE, and MUTUALS ONLY. I follow people I would like to interact with, as well as to make a point to keep my dash clean. If I follow you - please know it means I want to write!

This blog is also MULTIVERSE, MULTISHIP, CROSSOVER, OC, AU, and DUPLICATE friendly. I rarely do EXCLUSIVES or MAINS - unless my partner requests it. If that is the case, all relations will be listed here!

  𝐈𝐈. My activity can be sporadic at times, as this is a HOBBY and I refuse to force myself to write. Additionally, I run a number of other blogs on top of this one. However, given tumblr's penchant for not NOTIFYING me of things, please feel free to send me a poke of it seems like I have lost track of our thread.

I am a WORDY writer. I have a hard time doing short threads seriously, though I can make an attempt. I don't expect my partner's to match me word for word, and QUALITY over QUANTITY is always appreciated.

I DO format my posts and use icons, but do not expect the same. At this time I am able to use LTE - but if I notice my partner is using BTE I will switch to that as well!

  𝐈𝐈𝐈. None of the ART on this blog is mine unless stated otherwise. Any and all graphic resources will be credited here or on my carrd.

icon border.

A few other standard pieces of business: I hate DRAMA, do not drag me into it. I won't unfollow you for reblogging CALL OUT POSTS lest they be in excess. DNI if you, as a mun, condone or write pedophilia, incest, rape, etc. Racism, homophobia/biphobia, transphobia, ableism, etc by MUNS will not be tolerated here as well.

  𝐈𝐕. I absolutely love SHIPPING. Not only is it an excellent character development tool, but it is a great way to familiarize yourself with certain aspects of your muse. I am a HUGE shipper at heart and will ship about anything - from TOXIC, ROMANTIC, to PLATONIC. Obviously this does not apply to minor muses/minor muns or incest ships. No thanks.

I prefer to develop a bit of a repertoire with a mun before diving HEAD LONG into a ship so please feel free to slide into my DMs with any ideas or shipping suggestions you may have! Or even just to say hello. Seriously, I probably can find away to ship it.

  𝐕. AN IMPORTANT NOTE: Given the state of Baizhu's canon, a lot of this blog is headcanon based. As such I have made much of my portrayal morally grey/darker. I will not sacrifice this characterization for the sake of ships, or soften it in general. Additionally, this will blog contain a plethora of references to snakes and medicine, if either of these topics bother you, I would suggest not interacting.

I cannot reiterate this enough: NSFW may be highly present on this blog. If you are a minor or if your muse is a minor PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW OR INTERACT. NSFW includes, but is not limited to: smut, violence, gore, drug use - etc. I will always make an attempt to tag triggers and place sexual content under a read more.

  𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘 - my discord/UID is always available to mutuals on request. Please never be afraid to approach me!

[nekurooma]

@raytm asked: HC tell me all about mukuro rn 🔪 // SEND ME " HC + A WORD " AND ILL WRITE A HEADCANON ABT IT <3

mukuro never got to meet his mother in her life, her blood already on his hands before even taking his first real breath. it is the first thing they remember ; blood and death. it haunted his steps ever since, a large looming shadow over him. it keeps them near, and yet it won't hold them. nothing ever does except for the restraints binding him to the cold metal table underneath fluorescent lights.

his first death is an illusion of relief, of happiness. he sees the back of a woman, her long dark hair moving gently as she walks and she seems achingly familiar. he knows he never met her. he knows he would remember if he did, as he does everything else in painful detail. they're overcome with the intense desire to call out, to reach for her hand and look at her face, to laugh with her, to be with her. to apologize. but his feet are sinking into the ground. it's swallowing him up and blood fills his lungs, his ears, his nose , his eye. she's leaving him behind, walking further further away and mukuro is screaming, voice nothing more than a gurgle, begging his mother to take him with her. she doesn't hear him, keeps walking as mukuro descends into hell, as it curls within his veins, making itself at home in his soul and marking him a sinner forever. 一. ichi. Jigokudou.

the second time he dies, he dies of hunger. hunger for what, he can't tell, not anymore. only that it is all consuming, starting with himself. he's already thin, bones poking at their skin ; so what follows next is his mind. colors swirl in their vision, taking shapes he's never seen before but can't help but think beautiful. ethereal, pure - they're flowers that bloom from the filthiest of dirt and yet stay forever clean of it. not even his fingers, covered in blood and grime as they are can stain the beautiful pale pink. mukuro reaches, reaches and reaches - but collapses before he can touch. they grow around him, so close and yet so far, mocking and soothing. mukuro is so hungry for it, death rejects him once again in fear of being consumed. 二, ni, Gakidou.

mukuro is a sacrifice for the family. the sacrificial lamb to lead them to prosperity. they take his blood, his skin, his bones, nothing is left to waste. they apologize, they laugh - they get everything they want. snakes curl along what is left of his arms to hold him in place, on the altar of war as bullets are made in his image that will bring them salvation. are the snakes truly holding him down though? or are they holding him together - it doesn't matter. in the end, they are his - and he is them. 三, san. Chikushoudou

how long can you cut a human for, until there's nothing left to get ? not that it matters for the family, or mukuro himself. he is neither human anymore, nor does he ever stay dead. no matter how long it takes, he will always take a breath again. the cursed child - the devil. mukuro has stopped speaking a long time ago. has stopped screaming even longer. they think he has given up, that his spirit is broken as they passively watch him bleed out in front of them - but what they don't see is the flame in his eyes, the dying will to tear it all from their rotten hands. to keep living so that he can eventually, turn this entire domain upside down and become his own lord. he will tear them apart, limb from limb - and he will watch the world burn. this is his vow. 四, shi, Ashuradou

they can not hurt him, everything they could have done to him - they already have. pain has become inconsequential in the face of his obsession. mukuro knows that they have grown powerful - that each one of their deaths has brought them further and further down a path that will lead them to something devilishly divine.but it's not enough, not yet. there's something more, more power lurking behind a closed door - they can feel it. dangerous, pulsing, alive. the doctors have been treating him more and more carelessly thanks to his broken act. it is almost laughably easy to steal a scalpel and take it back to his room. he knows exactly what needs to be done to unlock that door. pain is inconsequential. mukuro is already dead before his body hits the ground, the blade wedged deep inside his cursed eye. his last thought as a comfortable warmth envelops his body is how laughably human it is to be so confident, so prideful about oneself and their potential. and yet it is still not enough. 五, go, Ningendou

六. roku. Tendou. to become exalted, mukuro dies for the sixth time with his fingers around his handlers throat and a bullet made of his own bones lodged inside his head. his sixth death is liberation. the end. mukuro takes a new breath but his handler doesn't. the barrel of the gun still smokes as mukuro idly wipes away the blood on his forehead. there is no control over him anymore - gone with the color of the other man's face. pale, distorted in fear and pain. a pitiful end, and yet too quick all the same. the time has finally come, his patience paid off. there will be no one to ever hold his leash again - his family will die - and so will all the others. he will be the judge and executioner in this broken world - in all his rotten, manmade divinity.

[injupsorbit]

the elements of jupiter—

The hurricane's eyes are nothing but blistering chocolate brown, a scorching color that appeases the people who would never think to look past them into the depths of tears they collected from others.

Medusa, some say. (One.) Whose eyes will flash their calming nature at what looks like something of an elk, but in reality, a porcupine with its quills ready to prick at the multiple snakes of her fiery red hair.

The eyes that tell you the words you dread to hear, because they ring in your ears like sirens of the raging waters. They draw you in, just enough to get you to curl into the shoulder of the one who's been taken over, blurred with dark swirling realities that aren't true. When you pull away, sniffling, you beg to see the tears that have soaked the shirt in their eyes. But they're never there.

The snakes tangle with your hair, the unfamiliar brown, and it sends an uncomfortable roar of hot bumps against your neck, like there are millions of people trying to lift the skin enough to push her off of you, to stop her from getting in.

“You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.” they say, and you want to believe them, you do, but there isn't a big enough part of you that can sacrifice knowing that it won't be. Even if you ignore it, and even if you hide in your closet, they're still there. And they're looking at you.

“Everything you have is because of me. Everything.” she slithers against your ear, and you fight the urge to raise your quills and strike, because you know how it will end. She will grab your cheeks and force the look in her eyes that you hate, the one that reels back her cheekbones and furrows her brows until she finds the bald spot where the needles have yet to grow back… and she will charge.

Their eyes are clear and calm, and you stand inside, looking up at the hollowed section of sky that feels like it has been etched out just for you, so you can have the perfect view. At least for a little while.

And as her eyes bore into you, the skin is the first to be destroyed, denying you the pleasure of the forming of a singular finger. The organs next of course, smallest to largest, making the heart the last thing she takes. When your eyes harden, your vision blurs, but just before it is wiped completely from you, she reaches her hand near one, and plucks a lasting tear from it, letting it drop against her dirt floor and waiting for the orange glow of your path. And when it comes, she looks past you for a moment, and then whispers the last words you hear. “I have taken the life that I brought. I will be happy forever.”

The sunlight is directly above you, blinding you from the top of your head to the heels of your feet, where they curl against the sudden feeling of sand. No. Dirt. And they’re plastered into the cool feeling, telling you. “Don’t be scared. Everything’s gonna be fine.” while they cave in the security around your toes, and your arch, and then your waist deep, staring into the hurricane's eyes… not realizing the roiling of water that is coming, not caring that you can’t breath, not feeling the depths of your cold stone body 130 feet underwater.

I sink. And land on my feet.

Shit. I think, and then remember that if I’ve hit rock bottom, I can only go up from here. And so I take my arms, and I cup them up well, I bend my knees, and I swim.

[melpomeneprose]

She had been running through the woods too fast to properly see anything, so of course Emma's first reaction to a human figure had been to lift her sword ready to strike, but she was trained better than to hit blindly; she jumped back and lifted her hands in surrender to show she meant no harm: "Sorry, sorry! Thought you were another bandit!" //more a starter than ask, but for Ben!

@smiletimeisrunningout

'Oh, I won't be hiding,' Tallmadge boldly told himself.

As with most of his exceedingly pretentious words, it was a lie. Granted, a well-placed lie, one he could sell to most he happened upon, but he couldn't lie to the fair-haired woman before him. It wasn't even on purpose! He was caught out in the woods, separated from Agent 725 Caleb Brewster, and the rest was ill-fated circumstances. Caught in the woods, alone, on the run.

Had his crisis and struggle truly afforded no mercy? Was his life fated to amount to nothing? Had Robert Rogers, Simcoe and the rest of the scum of Queen's rangers caught up with him?

He would not make a very good spymaster or even spy, had he no semblance of discretion or 'hiding.' At least, for all his many shortcomings, he could attest to being better at hiding than Agent 722, Abraham Woodhull.

Tallmadge didn't like hiding, he found such a thing humiliating, even so, he could sacrifice his ego, if it meant not crossing some grand mortal divide. But at least he was alive, and thus far, out of danger.

Now, it seems, he's only made a fool of himself. No pistol, or sabre. But he has a codebook and an alias and the wagging tongue of a well-intentioned liar, not just any liar as well, but a Yale graduate, class of 1773.

He takes a few polite steps back. "Forgive me, madam, I didn't see you," he said, thus far speaking true. "John Bolton," he said. He isn't giving his real name, not here, and not under such potentially dangerous circumstances. "No, madam, not a bandit, though, the English possess the nerve to call us... ruffians. Well, some snakes possess venomous bites. I think they'd do well to tread lightly upon us. But no, not a bandit, perhaps worse... it depends on who you ask."