#tight fillet

[journeytothewestresearch]

More on the Origins of Sun Wukong's Golden Headband

I've previously suggested that the Monkey King's golden headband (jingu, 金箍; a.k.a. jingu, 緊箍, lit: “tight fillet”) can be traced to a ritual circlet mentioned in the Hevajra Tantra (Ch: Dabei kongzhi jingang dajiao wang yigui jing, 大悲空智金剛大教王儀軌經, 8th-century). This is one of the "Five Symbolic Ornaments" or "Five Seals" (Sk: Pancamudra, पञ्चमुद्रा; Ch: Wuyin, 五印; a.k.a. "Five Buddha Seals," Wufo yin, 五佛印), each of which is associated with a particular Wisdom Buddha:

Aksobhya is symbolised by the circlet, Amitabha by the ear-rings, Ratnesa by the necklace, Vairocana by the hand ornaments, [and] Amogha by the girdle (Farrow, 1992, p. 65). [1] 輪者，表阿閦如來；鐶者，無量壽如來；頸上鬘者，寶生如來；手寶釧者，大毘盧遮那如來；腰寶帶者，不空成就如來。

Akshobya is known to have attained Buddhahood through moralistic practices (Buswell & Lopez, 2014, p. 27). Therefore, this explains why a headband would be used to rein in the unruly nature of a murderous monkey god.

The original Sanskrit Hevajra Tantra calls the circlet a cakri (चक्रि) or a cakrika (चक्रिका) (Farrow, 1992, pp. 61-62 and 263-264, for example), both of which refer to a "wheel" or "disc." The Chinese version uses the terms baolun/zhe (寶輪/者, "treasure wheel or ring") and just lunzhe (輪者, "wheel" or "ring").

One of the more interesting things I've learned is that these ornaments were made from human bone. One source even refers to them as "bone ornaments" (Sk: asthimudra, अस्थिमुद्रा) (Jamgon Kontrul Lodro Taye, 2005, p. 493, n. 13). [1]

Can you imagine Sun Wukong wearing a headband made from human bone?! How metal would that be? Finger bones would probably do the trick.

Note:

1) Another section of the Hevajra Tantra provides additional associations:

The Circlet worn on the head symbolises the salutation to one's guru, master and chosen deity; the ear-rings symbolise the yogi turning a deaf ear to derogatory words spoken about the guru and Vajradhara; the necklace symbolises the recitation of mantra; the bracelets symbolises the renunciation of killing living beings and the girdle symbolises the enjoyment of the consort (Farrow, 1992, p. 263-264). 謂頂相寶輪者，唯常敬禮教授阿闍梨及自師尊；耳寶鐶者，不樂聞說持金剛者及自師尊一切過失、麁惡語故；頸寶鬘者，唯常誦持大明呪故；手寶釧者，乃至不殺蠕動諸眾生故；腰寶帶者，遠離一切欲邪行故。

2) For more info on the association between Hindo-Buddhist practices and human remains, see "charnel grounds".

Sources:

Farrow, G. W. (1992). The Concealed Essence of the Hevajra Tantra: With the Commentary Yogaratnamālā. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.

Jamgon Kontrul Lodro Taye (2005). The Treasury of Knowledge, Book Six, Part Four: Systems of Buddhist Tantra (The Kalu Rinpoche Translation Group, Trans.). Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion.

[journeythroughjourneytothewest]

Oh, the agony of a monk living in a murderous world trying to explain to a murder monkey who got a lot of what he wanted through murder why he shouldn't murder :(

[see-arcane]

Jack when narrating about telling Mina about the mens' attack on Dracula in London:

she grew snowy white at times when danger had seemed to threaten her husband, and red at others when his devotion to her was manifested

Mina blushing at Jonathan's acts of devotion omg...

When we came to the part where Harker had rushed at the Count so recklessly, she clung to her husband’s arm, and held it tight as though her clinging could protect him from any harm that might come.

Protective instincts aside I love Jack saying that his attack was "so recklessly". He did fear for Jonathan's life and tried to shield him with a crucifix and a wafer because he kept trying to Kill. I imagine him talking about the attack with the tone of a man who is wiping his sweating forehead going "And then, the absolute madlad-"

Jack: "We were trying to play it safe, united front and all, except someone kept trying to actively gut the ancient undead horror right then and there. And then he lizard fashioned out the window to try it again when said undead horror threw himself out of the building to escape. And then he went chasing after the undead horror to try and carve him open in the middle of a crowded street. If Dracula hadn't sprinted for it I'm pretty sure your husband would have filleted him in the Square. And this was all after he swore out loud to sell his soul to kill the Count and send him to Hell."

Jonathan: "Sorry I didn't slaughter him for you yet, darling 🥺"

Mina, simultaneously terrified and so aroused she can't see straight: "that's fine my love it's great it's cool"

[rylem33]

Something Wicked

“Are you sure about this, Mia?” Mark asked as the trio made their way toward the small community theater. He shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, trying to keep his nerves in check. “I mean, I thought you were just being silly. I didn’t think we’d actually go through with it.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” Mia grinned, nudging Mark’s shoulder. “You and Chris are a riot together. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are perfect for you two, and I’ve always wanted to play Ophelia. Just imagine all the fun we’ll have!”

Chris, who was walking slightly behind them, chimed in with a grin. “She’s right, man. It’s a local production and we’ve got some experience from high school. Plus, I already made a bet with Derek that we’d land parts. Don’t back out now.”

Mark sighed but nodded. “Alright, fine. But if I have to wear tights, I’m blaming you both.”

They arrived at the theater, where a small crowd had already gathered for auditions. The director, a quirky man with wire-rimmed glasses and a slicked-back ponytail, greeted them at the door.

“Ah, you three are here for Macbeth, right?” He flipped through his clipboard, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Ophelia, yes?”

“That’s the plan!” Mia said, beaming.

The director raised an eyebrow and tapped his clipboard. “Well, I’ve got something else in mind for you. How about… the Three Witches?”

“What?” Chris laughed nervously, looking at Mark. “You mean us? As witches?”

Mark shifted awkwardly, not sure how to react. “Uh, I don’t think we’re exactly… witch material.”

Mia frowned. “I was really hoping to audition for Ophelia.”

The director waved off their protests. “Of course! But first try this. The witches are essential—a turning point of the play. You’ll be great! Just trust me.” He added, “And trust yourselves. You’ll get into the role soon enough.”

The trio were skeptical but decided to give it a go. They were given their scripts and led away from the other actors into the empty theater. The house lights dimmed, and the director nodded encouragingly.

“Just start from the top. Double, double, toil and trouble…“

They exchanged nervous glances, shuffling their scripts.

Mia took the lead, her voice wavering slightly as she attempted to conjure the tone of the scene. “Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and… uh… cauldron…” She trailed off, blinking at the page. “Crap, what was the next part?”

Chris, holding his script too low to read properly, squinted in the dim lighting. “I didn’t prepare this part.”

Mark, trying to keep it together, shook his head. “Its okay. Just read the lines and act like a witch, man.”

“I don’t know how witches act!” Chris snapped back, feeling self-conscious.

The director sighed audibly from his seat in the front row. “Alright, stop, stop.” He rubbed his temples before standing up. “You three need to commit to this. You’re witches! You’re mystical, dangerous! This is no time for hesitancy.”

Mia blushed, her confidence shaken. “Sorry, I just didn’t think I’d be trying for this role.”

The director shook his head again. “At yet, here we are. I’ll set the scene. You’re witches. You’ve got power, mystery—seduction—in your words! Now stop questioning it. Feel the part. Let it take over!”

The trio exchanged glances again, still unsure. “Alright… I guess we’ll try again?” Mia offered, biting her lip.

The director waved his hand. “Start over. From the top.”

They nodded, still skeptical but determined to give it another shot.

Mia started once more, her voice a little stronger this time. “Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

Chris followed, squinting at the script, “Fillet of a fenny snake, in the cauldron boil and bake.”

Mark was about to chime in when the director suddenly shouted, “Cut!” His assistant hurried over, and the director began talking to her in hushed tones, their discussion unclear.

While the director was distracted, Chris shifted awkwardly, glancing at Mia and Mark with a sheepish grin. “I still don’t know what any of this means…”

Mia giggled, but then, as if it bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, her giggle turned into a high-pitched cackle. It echoed off the theater walls, sharp and eerie.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

Mia blinked, her cheeks reddening. “I don’t know. It just… came out.” She shrugged.

Chris grinned, thinking she was just messing around. “That was… weirdly witchy.”

Mia’s eyes gleamed for a second. “Weird? Or perfect?” Her voice was lower now, more seductive, and her smile lingered longer than it should have. The boys laughed it off.

The director returned to the stage. “Alright, from the top. And I want commitment this time.”

Mia jumped into the role, her voice taking on an almost unearthly quality. “Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

Mark opened his mouth to deliver his line, but it felt stuck in his throat. Mia’s tone had changed. She was acting so unlike herself.  So much like the role.

Chris noticed too. He was late to his next line, too focused on Mia and the intense look in her eyes. “Uh, Eye of newt, and toe of frog…” His voice wavered, but it seemed like Mia’s confidence was only growing.

Mark squeaked out. “Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting…” 

Mia straightened, her chin up high, her posture confident. “For a charm of powerful trouble, like a hell-broth boil and bubble.” The words rolled off her tongue.

Her clothes had subtly started to shift from her casual audition outfit to something more fitted. Her shirt tightened and hardened into a black corset that wrapped around her torso.  Not that she noticed, she was too engrossed in the role.

The director watched, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good, yes… better.”

Chris stared at Mia and saw her shirt change causing him to stumble over his next line. “Uh, By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes…”

Mark and Chris exchanged nervous glances. This wasn’t right. But Mia? She was falling further and further into the part.

The director stepped forward, clapping slowly. “Magnificent,” he purred.

Mia turned toward the director, her lips curling into a slow, sultry smile. “Shall we continue, then?” she purred, stepping closer to him, her voice low, almost a growl. “There’s so much more we can do.”

Mark and Chris watched her with wide eyes, still in shock at how drastically she had changed in just a few moments. 

“Are you… okay, Mia?” Mark asked cautiously.

Mia turned to him slowly, her eyes narrowing. She stared at him for a long moment before speaking. “Mia?” she spoke, her voice hard with an unfamiliar rasp. “Who is Mia? We have work to do, sisters.”

Chris snorted, assuming she was still messing around. “Good one, Mia,” he said, shaking his head.

But Mia didn’t laugh or smile. She simply gazed at them both with a knowing smirk, her eyes flickering with something. Mark opened his mouth to speak again, but the director interrupted.

“Alright, let’s go again! Action!”

The scene resumed, but now there was something different in the air. The moment Mia began her lines, it was as if a switch had flipped. Her voice rolled out effortlessly, oozing power and seduction. “Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

Suddenly, Mark and Chris felt something shift inside them. A strange tingling sensation spread through their minds, like fog creeping into their thoughts. 

Chris started, “Eye of newt, and toe of frog…” as his voice pitched up an octave.

Mark followed, “Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting…” a seductive tilt entering his words.

The director watched them with growing satisfaction, nodding as the transformation took hold.

Mark blinked, as his body began to shift, his muscular frame softening into more delicate, feminine curves. His jeans morphed into a sleek black leather skirt, his shoes elongating into stiletto heels. His chest filled out, his shirt morphing into a tight, corset-like top. His hair, once short, lengthened into platinum blonde locks that cascaded over his shoulders.

His words flowed naturally now, without the hesitation from before. “Cool it with a baboon’s blood, then the charm is firm and good.”

Chris, too, began to feel the change. His broad shoulders shrank, his arms slimming as his black T-shirt melted into a shiny corset, complete with straps that wrapped around his now hourglass figure. His dark hair lengthened into luscious waves, his lips darkening to a deep crimson. 

His body moved more fluidly, his voice softening as he delivered his lines. “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”

The director stepped forward, clapping slowly. “Magnificent,” he purred, his eyes gleaming. 

Mia turned towards her sisters.  Her coven. Her lips curled into a slow, sultry smile. “Shall we continue, then?”

[pompomqt]

Journey to the West Chapter 58

In this chapter of Journey to the West with @journeythroughjourneytothewest Sun Wukong faces off against his shadow self. So let's get into it shall we?

So Sandy and Monkey head off together towards Flower Fruit Mountain, with Monkey traveling much slower then his usual pace to keep pace with Sandy who is still suspicious of him. However Sandy's suspicions of Monkey are slightly allayed when they get there and find that there is indeed another Sun Wukong. Monkey takes the presence of this clone just as well as Sandy took it early- which is to say that he attacks the clone on sight.

The two are evenly matched, and even if Sandy wanted to try and get in the middle of that to try and give the real Wukong a leg up, he no longer knows which one the real one is. After watching the fight for a while, Sandy decides to make himself useful by trying to find their stuff, however he's unable to find where the false Wukong stashed them. Eventually Monkey calls out to Sandy to just go report back to Tripitaka, while he battles his way over to Guanyin's place so that she can help tell them apart. So Sandy head's back to Tripitaka, while Monkey, and fake Monkey heads for Guanyin.

The two Monkey's continue brawling in Guanyin's front yard, while one of her servants go to alert Guayin to the situation. When she comes out the two Monkey's give her a rundown of the situation, and ask her to tell them apart. So Guanyin has them separate from each other and has two of her servants grab them both while she recites the tight fillet spell. However when Guanyin starts reciting the spell they both act like they are in unbearable pain and beg her to stop, which she does. Now out of idea's, Guanyin tells them to go up to heaven so they can their problem instead of hers.

So Monkey and fake Monkey fight their way up to heaven, and once they've disturbed the peace enough to garner an audience, the two Sun Wukong's once again explain the situation and ask for an audience with the Jade Emperor, once it becomes clear that none of the gathered gods can tell the two apart either. The gods figure that they don't want to get in the middle of... whatever this is, and make way so the two of them can brawl their way to the Jade Emperor. The Jade Emperor isn't to happy about the two Sun Wukong's brawling in his palace, but since I doubt he wants beef with either of them, he just summons Prince Nezha's father, who brings with him an imp-reflecting mirror. They both stand before the mirror, however even in the reflection they can not be distinguished from each other. Since the Jade Emperor gave it his best shot and failed, it's time to pass the buck once again- this time they're going to go and bother Tirpitaka.

Meanwhile, Sandy has caught back up with Pigsy and Tripitaka and is giving them a run down of the situation. Tripitaka feels bad about accusing Monkey of something he didn't do, but apparently he doesn't feel to badly about, since once the two Monkey's crash down to earth, he has no problem whipping out the tight fillet spell to see if that will help. Which it of course doesn't. Although in his defense I guess he doesn't know that Guanyin already tried that. Anyways, as flattering as it is that they actually thought Tripitaka might be useful in this situation, it is once again time for them to become someone else's problem. Permanently if Tripitaka has anything to say about it, since although he knows about the clone now, that doesn't change the fact that the real Sun Wukong is the one who killed those bandit earlier. So Tripitaka is still mad at him and currently has no plans on taking him back on as a disciple.

That's a problem for later however. For now the two Monkey's decide to take their fight to the underworld to see if the Ten Kings have any insight into this situation. Tripitaka meanwhile tells Sandy that he should go back to Flower Fruit Mountain and check behind the waterfall for their stuff while the two Monkey's are preoccupied. Pigsy however volunteers to go in Sandy's place since he's been behind the waterfall before and will probably have better luck finding it.

Meanwhile the two Monkey's have made their way to the underworld. Some of the spirits manage to alert the Ten Kings about this issue, and the two Monkey's explain the current plot to them. Now knowing the situation the Kings bring forth the registry to see if it can help, unfortunately it's not very useful, partly because this is the very same registry Wukong himself vandalized about four immoralities ago. However unlike the last three groups they asked for for help, these guys actually have a plan B. They call forward a beast called 'Investigative Hearing' who has the ability to perceive true from false. And this beast actually does manage to learn the name of the imposter, but he can't reveal it here. For the imposter is actually as powerful as the real Sun Wukong, and would probably wreak havoc here in retaliation if they reveal him.

So instead the beast suggests that they take this problem up with the Buddha himself, since he'll likely both be able to tell them apart and actually do something about it. Both Monkey's agree to this new course of action and continue their fight to the Western Heaven, where Buddha is currently giving a lecture on why being of one mind is important. The Monkey's arrive just in time for the Buddha to point them out as examples of what happens if you are of two minds instead. Once again the two Monkey's settle down long enough to give the Buddha the recap episode of the last few chapters. And while none of Buddha's cohort's can tell the difference between the two, the Buddha can, and just as he's about to reveal it Guanyin arrives for this surprise lecture from her teacher.

Buddha asks Guanyin if she can tell the difference between the two Monkey's, and Guanyin confesses that she can not, and has come here to ask if Buddha can enlighten them on the situation. Buddha goes on to say that despite everyone's vast power and knowledge, none of them know everything. As they know, there are five kinds of immortals; the celestial, the earthbound, the divine, the human and the ghostly. And there are also five kinds of creatures; the short-haired, the scaly, the hairy, the winged, and the crawling. This imposter however does not fall into any of those ten categories. Instead he is one of four special primates that do not belong to any of these ten species.

The first special monkey is the intelligent stone monkey, aka Sun Wukong himself. Who knows transformations, recognizes the seasons discerns the advantages of earth and is able to alter the course of planets and stars. Next we have the red-buttocked baboon, who has knowledge of yin and yang, understands human affairs, is adept in it's daily life, and is able to avoid death and lengthen it's life. Then there's the third one, the bare-armed gibbon, who can seize the sun and moon, shorten a thousand mountains, distinguish the auspicious from the inauspicious and manipulate planets and stars. And finally we have the six-eared macaque who has a sensitive ear, discernment of fundamental principles, knowledge of past and future, and comprehension of all things.

Therefore the Buddha deduces that the imposter must be the six-eared macaque. Knowing that he's been made, the macaque tries to make a run for it, but Buddha's cohorts have him quickly surrounded. And when the macaque tries to shapeshift into a bee to slip past them, the Buddha traps him under and alms bowl. The macaque then reveals his true form, and Wukong immediately kills him. The Buddha isn't to happy about this, but Wukong explains that he was a criminal that assaulted and robbed his master, and would have been executed under the court of law anyways.

And I guess Buddha is willing to accept this logic, since instead of scolding him further he just tells him to go back to Tripitaka. Monkey however explains that Tripitaka doesn't want him anymore, and instead asks that the Buddha remove the fillet so he can just go home instead. Buddha however just says he'll send Guanyin with him to make sure that Tripitaka takes him back. So Guanyin and Wukong head back to where Tripitaka and Sandy are waiting. Guanyin explains about the six-eared macaque and tells Tripitaka to take Wukong back on as a disciple since he won't be able to reach the west without his protection. Tripitaka agree's and thanks Guanyin, meanwhile Pigsy arrives just in time to explain the other half of the situation. He's got their stuff back, and killed the imposter Tripitaka and Pigsy, who were just normal monkey's while he was at it. Which honestly, I'm surprised that Wukong wasn't upset about, those are his people after, and they were kind of forced to go along with all of this by the Macaque. Anyways, now that the story is completely wrapped up, Guanyin takes her leave, and together once again, the pilgrims continue on their Journey to the West.

Current Sun Wukong Stats: Names/Titles: Monkey, The Stone Monkey, The Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong (Monkey awakened to the void), Bimawen (Banhorseplague), The Great Sage Equal To Heaven and Pilgrim Sun. Immortality: 5 + 94,000 years Weapon: The Compliant Golden Hooped Rod Abilities: 72 Transformations, Cloud-Somersault, Ability to transform his individual hairs, super strength, Ability to Summon Wind, Water restriction charm, and the ability to change into a huge war form, ability to duplicate his staff, ability to immobilize others, the ability to put others to sleep, and the Fiery eyes and Diamond Pupils, intimidating horses, churning large bodies of water, sleeplessness, seizing the wind, enhanced smell, discerning good and evil within a thousand miles, Spirit Summoning, lock picking, object transformation, distance reduction, vanishing in a flash of light, super healing, transforming others, and Invisibility Demon Kill Count: 10 + Unknown Number of Minions Human Kill Count: 1039 God's Defeated: 23 + Unknown number Defeats: 7 Crime List: Robbery, Murder, Mass Murder, Arson, Theft, Coercion, Threatening a Government Official, Resisting Arrest, Assault, Forgery, Employee Theft, False Imprisonment, Impersonating a Government Official, Treason, attempted murder, failure to control or report a dangerous fire, desecrating a corpse, breaking and entering, trespassing, violating Tree Law, looting corpses, trading counterfeit goods, criminal threat, animal abuse, Assisting or Instigating Escape, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption, Identity Fraud, and Disorderly Conduct Cry Count: 9 + 3 fake cries Mountains Trapped Under: 4

Current Tang Sanzang stats: Names/Titles: River Float, Xuanzang, Tang Sanzang, Tripitaka and the Tang Monk Abilities: Curing Blindness, making branches point a certain direction (allegedly), reciting sutras, pretty privilege, memorization, Heart Sutra and Meditation. Cry Count: 30 Tight Fillet Spell Uses: 63 Paralyzed by fear: 6 Bandit Problems: 3 Kidnapped by demons: 9 Falling Off Horses: 10

Current Bai Long Ma Stats: Names/Titles: Bai Long Ma (White Dragon Horse), Prince of the Western Ocean, and third prince jade dragon of the dragon king Aorun Abilities: Transforming into a human, a water snake, and a horse, eating a horse in one bite, flight, Magic of Water Restriction, Singing, and Sword Dancing. Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Arson, and Grave Disobedience. Contributions to the plot: 3 Kidnapped by demons: 1

Current Zhu Wuneng Stats: Names/Titles: The Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, Zhu Wuneng (Pig who is aware of ability), Zhu Ganglie, Pigsy, Idiot and Eight Rules. Weapon: Rake Abilities: 36 Transformations, parting water, fighting underwater, cloud soaring, size enhancement and CPR Demon Kill Count/Kill steals: 5 Kidnapped by Demons: 4 Human Kill Count: 1 Failed Flirtation/romances Attempts: 4 Cry Count: 2 Crime List: Sexual Harassment, Murder, Kidnapping, arson, defamation, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption, Identity Fraud, Theft and Forcible entry

Current Sha Wujing Stats: Names/Titles: The Curtain-Raising General, Sha Wujing (Sand Aware of Purity), Sandy and Sha Monk Weapon: Monster Taming Staff Abilities: Fighting underwater, Cloud soaring, and fetching water from a well. Demon Kill Count: 1 + Unknown number of minions. Kidnapped by Demons: 3 Human Kill Count: 1 Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Breaking a Crystal Cup, murder, desecration of a human corpse, Damage to Religious Property and contaminating a substance for human consumption

[tateypots]

Tommy’s Turn

18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: dark!Tommy x reader, dark!Joel x reader

A/N: Follow up to Collared which was supposed to be a one shot but I’ve well and truly fallen down the rabbit hole now. Ah well never mind, hope you enjoy! Same warnings as the last one, it’s dark, please heed the warnings.

Word Count: 811

Summary: Tommy takes his turn with you.

Warnings: Non-Con, dark Joel, dark Tommy, kidnapping, drugging, somnophilia, unprotected piv, creampie, restraints.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Joel was sitting on the porch skinning a rabbit when the sounds started leaking from within the cabin. The squeaking mattress and the slow rhythmic bang of the headboard into the wall, Tommy’s low moans of pleasure reverberating through the quiet evening. Joel smirked to himself, he knew Tommy wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. Not with your sweet little body there for the taking, calling out to him. Joel had to leave the cabin while Tommy waited for his turn, the urge to take you again was so strong but that wouldn’t be fair to Tommy. He deserved his chance to fuck you.

They’d often discussed the possibility of finding a woman to keep them warm through the winter and even prepared for that eventuality, finding the extra bed and the restraints, but they had never found anyone suitable. But today while out on a final run to stock up before winter truly set in they had come across a rural health centre. They had high hopes it had been spared the brunt of the looting that had occurred in the 3 years since the outbreak due to its isolated location. Inside they had not only found a wealth of medical supplies but you and your father, him slumped against a wall with a prominent bite to his neck next to the dead clicker who had inflicted it. You had wept as your father begged Joel and Tommy to take care of you, to kill him so you didn’t have to be the one to do it. Tommy had ushered you out of the room while Joel had put your father out of his misery, promising that they’d take good care of you.

It was like all their prayers had been answered, an angel sent to them from the heavens. They couldn’t believe their luck at how fucking perfect you were for them. And the stash of birth control they’d found at the centre was the icing on the cake. No need to worry about hastily pulling out or accidental additions to their group, they could dump their cum in you to their hearts content.

Joel finished skinning the rabbit and got up to go inside. The pace of the thuds and squeaking had increased significantly since they first started wafting out to Joel’s ears. When he entered the cabin Tommy was on top of you, your legs bent and splayed wide around Tommy’s arms which were planted firmly on the mattress by your waist. His hips pumped into yours in a quick steady rhythm and you jolted with each contact, still passed out and blissfully unaware of your violation.

“She’s fuckin’ perfect Joel, best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had,” he panted out, breathless from the exertion.

“I know, she’s somethin’ else alright. Takes cock real good. It’s going to be a good winter brother,” Joel replied, starting to fillet up the rabbit for dinner.

Tommy increased his pace again, nearing the end of his stamina, your pussy so tight around him he felt like he was in heaven.

“That’s it baby, just like that, fuck yeah! Gona take my cum like a good girl, Jesus, fuck!” He slammed into you one final time, spilling inside you.

“Ahhhhh, so fuckin’ good,” he moaned in a state of bliss. He stayed inside you, rocking gently while the aftershocks ran through him. When he was finally done, he pulled out and admired the mess he’d made of you.

“Been too long since I got to cum inside a pussy, forgot how good it feels,” Tommy said as he got off the bed and wandered over to the bathroom, scratching his balls.

“You’re telling me. We hit the jackpot with that medical centre. Speaking of which, where’d you put the plan B, better get one ready for when she wakes up,” Joel replied getting up to wash his hands.

“Duffle bag in the closet, I’m gona jump in the shower.”

Joel retrieved the bag from the closet and fished out a box of plan B, leaving it on the table for later. Then he checked you were secure, the long chain padlocked to the metal bedframe at one end and the O ring of the steel collar around your neck at the other, the collar itself locked at the side, a key stashed safely in each of your captors bedrooms.

Satisfied you weren’t going anywhere Joel stripped himself down and got back on top you, dropping his head to give one of your nipples a hard suck before pulling off with a pop.

“What do you think baby, got time for one more round before you wake up hmm?”

You released a small little whimper as he swiped the head of his cock over your clit.

“Yeah I think so too baby,” he grinned as he pushed himself back inside you.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XXV)

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing (part II)

Read part one // masterpost // continued from here

I’m not happy with the last part, but I am too tired to edit it so voila,

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Where are we going?” Ambrose grumbled, the cling of glass on stone crunching under their shoes as they walked, Nathan a step in front of Ambrose as it was before. Always leading Ambrose, Ambrose always following. It made him feel a little sick, like nothing had changed between them, like no time had passed in the last five years since Ambrose established himself for himself. How he didn’t answer to anyone anymore.

And yet here he was, following, again.

Because Kit’s life is in danger, the rational voice told him. You’re not following because you want to.

But one look at the swirling silver eyes and Ambrose was magnetised, trapped under Nathan’s spell again. He knew it, Nate knew it. He wasn’t a hero trying to save Kit, he was just Oskar, Nathan’s shadow. Nathan turned his head to smile at Ambrose, exposing his boyish dimples despite being older than Ambrose.

“You’ll see, won’t you? It’s about the journey, Oskar, not the destination.”

Ambrose swallowed, clenching his jaw and forcing himself to stare ahead as Nathan led them through the tight building packed streets that loomed like giants on either side of Fagan’s lot. most of them were abandoned, or closed for business indefinitely. Some sad, stale “Everything must go” signs lingered in some of the windows that weren’t smashed or bordered up.

It tugged a bit at Ambrose’s cold, dead heart. Fagan’s lot was where Max and Ambrose had shopped because it was cheap, extremely cheap. He remembered Lucy’s grocers, and how Max used to drool as he walked by the fresh fruit and vegetables, and long for them when he was unwrapping microwave pizza for the fifth day in a row because their oven was broken and they couldn’t afford to fix it.

“I want watermelon, Oskar,” he whined.

Ambrose smiled at him, hiding the bill from their landlord for noise complaints, something Ambrose would deal with later. “Payday is in four days. We’re almost there,” he said.

That Friday, when Max got his paycheque, Ambrose came home after his commute to see Max standing proudly in the kitchen. He grabbed the edge of a tea towel and yanked it away with a flourish like a magician, revealing the biggest watermelon Ambrose had ever seen. Max grinned widely, flashing his teeth like a beaming toddler.

“I got the big one.”

“I can see that.” Ambrose said with a nod. Max brandished a serrated knife, licking his lips as he leaned close and took a giant sniff of the watermelon.

“Uggghh, smell that Oskar? That’s the smell of money right there.” Ambrose laughed as Max started to cut into it. The sweet, sticky smell pungent in their small apartment, but Max looked so stupidly happy that Ambrose couldn’t help grin himself. “How much do you want?”

“A slice?”

“You can’t have just a slice,” Max bemoaned, the knife sliding through the watermelon wetly. Ambrose walked around the counter and placed his briefcase on the table, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his top two buttons.

“Okay, two slices,” he said, watching as the pink flesh of the fruit fell like sheer fillet mignon, the red juice running like blood over Max’s fingers. Max cut two large circles and cut them in half, putting two on Ambrose’s plate and two on his own. “Bon appétit.”

Max moaned into the first bite, slapping his free hand on the table in passion. “Augh! That’s so good! So worth the wait. Fuck me!”

Max sniffed, and Ambrose met his eyes over the watermelon. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Max said too quickly, wiping his eye with the back of his hand. “Some juice just got in my eye.”

Now, as they walked past Lucy’s grocers, the bright yellows and reds of the plastic baskets of fruit were smashed out front, a metal shutter down with graffiti adorning it instead of fresh fruit. Ambrose ignored it as he walked by, lest Nathan notice — because he always noticed — what it meant to him.

“How do you know, Jude?” Ambrose tried instead.

Nathan raised his brows as if he was about to say something dirty, or let out a startled laugh of disbelief. Ambrose swallowed.

“Why? Jealous, Osk?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Nathan plumped out his bottom lip, the rosey pink getting lighter the more he protruded it into a pout. “You can still call me Nate, if you want.”

“I don’t want to call you anything,” Ambrose ground out through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to be this close to you.”

The words had only left Ambrose’s lips before Nathan’s hands were on him slamming him into the opposite wall of the narrow street, deft hand wrapped around the base of his throat. Nathan smiled down at Ambrose who didn’t have to fight to keep the blush off his face, remaining the cool, pale statue that Kit so often likened him too in his head.

“How about this close?” Nathan said, his voice the shape of an angel’s wings; soft, light, majestic, but behind it held great power to exact divine retribution on devils, demons and humans who strayed too close.

“This makes it worse,” Ambrose said, happy that his voice remained even, though his index finger twitched at his sides. Mercury swirling eyes regarded him with a twisted mischief, the corners tugging up into smiles themselves.

Nathan looked at Ambrose the same way a lion would a gazelle, but Ambrose wasn’t the same man he was when him and Nathan were together. He wasn’t poor little Oskar anymore, who shared secrets with Nathan in the early hours of the morning, secrets they swore to take the grave, secrets like Ambrose’s parents that Nathan revealed to Max just to fuck with him.

Nathan’s fingers trailed up, pinching Ambrose’s chin between his thumb and index finger and tilting his head a little higher so he could feel Nathan’s warm breath on his lips, the smell of cigarette smoke and ash fanning his face.

“And how about now?” He asked his voice a tempting whisper, half-lidded silver eyes positively feasting at Ambrose’s stoic expression, looking for the tell, the give. Ambrose had buried them years ago. “Come on, Osk, you can’t tell me you don’t feel this. You and me, we’re meant to be together. You know it, I know it. We can be like we were.”

Nathan tilted his own head so their noses wouldn’t touch as he leaned in closer until his lips brushed Ambrose’s when he spoke. “Don’t you miss it? Don’t you miss us? Don’t you miss me?”

Ambrose’s heart raced in his chest. When Nathan looked at him like that, Ambrose feared that he could read his mind instead of the other way around. Not that Ambrose could ever read Nathan’s stupid mind with his stupid gift and his enchanting eyes. But there was an eerie stillness to it, an intensity that Ambrose couldn’t deny and never felt with someone else. Despite his many attempts of dating after Nate, there was no comparison to the silver eyed devil and that terrified him.

He could do it, he realised, his pulse throbbing in his neck against his throat. He could lean up and kiss Nathan and they could go back to how they were. Nathan was waiting, waiting for Ambrose to make the move, to accept him again. To submit and return to being Nathan’s favourite thing. Ambrose had no doubt Nathan loved him, in his own twisted way, but it wasn’t about Nathan and his love. It was about Ambrose, and he hated the person he was when he was with Nathan.

The shell he became.

Ambrose leaned on his toes, hand sliding up Nathan’s side to his neck. Cigarette breath hitched against Ambrose’s face and he smirked. He slammed his palm up against Nathan’s chin and shoved him back with an easy strength.

Nathan stumbled back, silver eyes flashing with malice and pain as his hand went to cup his lip.

“Ow! You made me bite my tongue,” he whined.

Ambrose smiled, sliding a hand into his jacket pocket when he saw a flash of red stain Nathan’s white teeth.

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe you shouldn’t invade people’s personal space, then,” Ambrose said coolly, black eyes on Nathan’s.

Nathan huffed out a breath through his nose, straightening, his brows lowering over his eyes casting shadows on his quicksilver gaze, darkening them to the colour of gunmetal. Dangerous, powerful, scathing.

He let out a soft hmph of disapproval. “Maybe you have changed, Osk.”

“Maybe,” Ambrose said without missing a beat. Then they were walking again, Nathan still leading, though now with a wired tension in his shoulders, something stiff that wound and unwound and Ambrose wanted so desperately to peak inside his brain and see what he was feeling. To know what to expect.

Then they turned down a side street off the main path of Fagan’s lot and Ambrose stopped walking despite himself. Nathan stopped too, a few steps ahead of him and glanced back over his shoulder, a smirk in his eyes and a knowing smile on his lips.

“Something wrong?”

Ambrose remembered Max telling him that Benny was having trouble yesterday, that he should check on him before he leaves. Benny who lived in the apartment across from them in Old Town. A fast friend because of his jolly, wholesome exuberance, always making them smile and bringing over beers on Summer nights for them to go to the roof and hang out.

Benny’s tailors was on the street.

Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. “Where are we going?”

“To see an old friend,” Nathan replied.

“Why?” Ambrose asked, his hands tightening into fists in his pockets.

Nathan let out a breath of a laugh, turning his body towards Ambrose and walked towards him, into his personal space again which forced Ambrose to tilt his head up a little to keep his heavy gaze.

Nathan placed a warm hand on Ambrose’s cheek. On reflex Ambrose’s hand twitched up to smack him away, but Nathan’s words stopped him. “Ah, ah, ah, Oskar. Behave. I still have your hero friend locked away safely with Jude, so you’re going to do as I say.”

“And if I don’t?” Ambrose snapped.

Nathan’s eyes tracked Ambrose’s, observing his steeled expression and annoyance. Nathan ran a thumb over Ambrose’s bottom lip, chilling his blood as he stiffened despite himself.

“I have to check in every ten minutes with Jude or he gets to do whatever he likes to the heroes,” Nathan said.

Ambrose frowned. Heroes? As in more than Kit? Does he know who Kit is?

“See, that’s the Oskar I want. The sweet, pliant thing, the one whose heart raced when I got this close.”

“When did you last check in?” Ambrose demanded.

Nathan hmphed again, silver eyes swirling with glee. “At Max’s, while I waited for you two to kiss and make up.”

“Oh bullshit, you wanted us to fight.”

Nathan’s lips broke into a grin, a flash of teeth. “Okay, yeah. Maybe I did, but the fact remains. That was maybe, what, two-three minutes ago? So do you want to waste time being a brat, or, are you going to come with me and do everything I say to save your friend?”

Ambrose felt a tug in his chest. He wasn’t affected by Nathan anymore. He wasn’t. The only reason he was going through this fucking charade is because of Kit, who a few months ago, meant nothing to him. Why was he doing this? Why was he risking his neck for this kid? His sanity?

Ambrose’s shoulders dropped. Nathan stepped away, eyes gleaming as he turned and walked to the tailors at the end of the street. The shop’s trim was wooden, painted a royal blue, striking from far away, something to catch your eye and it did. Red lettering protruded from the black crown sign above the door, that read: Bespoke Elegance.

Nathan leaned against the wooden detail next to the door, grinning at Ambrose, he inclined his head for Ambrose to go first. Ambrose glared at him but wordlessly obeyed.

For Kit, he told himself. For Max. This would be fine. Everything would be fine.

The bells had only tingled open when a shot rang out and Ambrose’s eyes went wide as a nub of metal stopped so close to his left eye that it watered from the pressure. Behind the bullet at the counter stood Lyra; as lethal as she was pretty. The shell fell to the ground with a clatter and she lowered the pistols, relief washing over her taut features.

“Oskar,” Lyra said, the lilt of her voice musical.

“Well I’ll be fucked,” Lyra said, shifting her weight on her legs but not dropping either pistol from her hands, keeping them trained on Ambrose’s body. “Ghosts still walk the Earth.”

“Maybe I’m an angel, come to rescue you.”

“Or a demon in disguise as one,” Lyra replied easily, tilting her head to the side, exposing her long, lean neck that led into her beautiful collar bones and shoulders.

Lyra Sinclair was the only woman Ambrose would ever consider marrying. She knew she was too good for him, and would probably shoot him if he ever tried to ask. Her hair was in a different style every time he saw her, which regrettably was too little. She was as close to a Goddess that Ambrose had ever come, with olive skin and warm features. Though she had a foul mouth, cursing like a sailor, and still hadn’t lost her posh English accent despite herself.

“What are you doing here, Oskar?” She asked, raising a perfect brow. As if on cue the door behind Ambrose opened, and Lyra trained one pistol one the crack in the door. Her eyes narrowed like cat’s, dangerous, lethal. “Who are you with?”

Ambrose raised his hands, trying to calm her. “Lyra, I can explain.”

“No need, Osk, darling, just tell her to drop the guns.”

Ambrose stiffened, silently hoping that Lyra would just shoot Nathan through the doors, but she trained both pistols back to Ambrose, and now his hands went up in surrender, trying to show her he meant no harm.

“If you open your mouth, Oskar I swear to fuck I will kill you where you stand.”

“Lyra, please,” Ambrose said, risking a step forward. “I don’t want to compel you.”

“Why’re you with him?!” She demanded. “How do you even know each other? Do you know what he is?!”

The worry pulled her features across her face, stretching them wide, exposing the whites of her eyes and wrinkle lines on her forehead.

“Tick, tock, Osk. I’m not texting Jude until I’m inside.”

Ambrose stared pleadingly at Lyra, but her hazel eyes didn’t leave his, her chest rising and falling with a gasp. “You know Jude?” She demanded incredulously, her grip tightening on the weapons. “Are you working with them?”

“No!” Ambrose cried, stepping forward again. “Lyra, please, he has my friend and he’s going to let Jude do whatever the fuck he wants with him if he doesn’t text him in the next five minutes.”

Desperate black eyes met fiery hazel across the shop floor. “Please,” Ambrose said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t get her answer. A toilet flushed somewhere in the back, the sound of rushing water and a door was thrown open behind the red velvet curtain that was pushed outside, metal hooks squeaking and then a wide grin. Ambrose swallowed thickly.

A hulk of a man finely dressed in a chequered navy suit and burgundy silk shirt stepped out from behind the curtain, bending to get through the door before standing to his full height of a giant, taller than Ambrose, hell, taller than Nathan who was 6’4.

The fine suit did its best to hide the muscled torso beneath, but when Benny spread his arms, his stubble lined jaw spread open into a grin.

“Well, well, well, Oskar Fucking Ambrose. You giant cunt. Where’ve you been?”

“C’mere,” Benny gruffed, his footsteps like buckshots in the store. Benny was double the width of Ambrose, and a good head taller which made Ambrose mortally terrified of the man, especially because Benny was simultaneously the biggest, and sweetest, man he had ever met. And a hugger.

Ambrose groaned when he felt his bones crack under Benny’s tight hug, the giant man lifting Ambrose from his feet as if he were a child.

“God. It has been too long, old friend.” Benny said with a hearty laugh and a meaty fisted thump to Ambrose’s back. “We love to see you, brother.”

Benny said, his Ukranian accent choking in the middle of brother, making it sound like broo-der. Benny’s real name was Irakliy, but he told Ambrose when he arrived in the country that your stupid people couldn’t pronounce it, eh? They heard ‘ee’ sound and call me Freddie, I mishear and call me Benny. Name stick in brain like a Kesha song.

“Not today you don’t,” Lyra ground out, a muscle in her jaw ticking.

Benny frowned at her then at Ambrose. Ambrose feared the result of the exchange he was about to have, but he couldn’t not say anything.

Then Nathan chimed in: “three minutes, Oskar.”

Benny’s expression dropped. Ambrose could feel the adrenaline spike in his body as Benny glanced at the door, then at Ambrose, then back at the door. When he looked back at Ambrose again, blue eyes darkened and despite Ambrose’s protests Benny grabbed him by the throat and pile-drove him backwards into one of the viewing mirrors for fittings, the glass cracking against Ambrose’s back.

The wind was stolen from him with a silent gasp, both his hands finding Benny’s and trying to pry his fingers off his throat unsuccessfully. Benny growled in the back of his throat, leaning down so he could get in Ambrose’s slowly blueing face.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck like a twig.”

Benny, he tried in his mind, his brain screaming as pounding headache formed from the pressure in his skull, his brain screaming for oxygen, please. Let me exp—

Ambrose didn’t think, he was panicking as his vision darkened at the edges and without meaning to boomed out a command:

Benny, LET GO!

Benny’s fingers sprung open like a coiled spring being released and Ambrose hit the ground, his cheek hitting off the edge of the fitting platform as Benny cried out.

Ambrose gasped, pushing himself up instinctively and reached to Lyra’s mind, tying the wires in her brain together and unplugging her powers before he fell again.

“Two minutes, Oskar!” Nathan sang and Ambrose groaned. He muttered, don’t move, aloud and waited until both Benny and Lyra went stiff before calling Nathan in.

Nathan stepped through the door, poking his head around first and glancing at Lyra before his face broke out into a smile and he stepped inside fully.

“Morning,” he drawled with a happy sigh as Ambrose managed to prop himself up against the wall. He reached behind his head at the bump that was forming and his fingers came away sticky and wet. Fuck. He blinked, the world dizzy in front of him.

FUCK! He didn’t want to have to do that. Fucking Nathan knew exactly what he was doing making himself known before Ambrose had a chance to explain. Ambrose glared at his stupid, gorgeous ex who pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and held it up, waving it at Ambrose’s face.

“Just in time, babe.” Then he typed away on it, positively eating up the attention in the room. Ambrose tipped his head back, chin to the ceiling up at Benny. His eyes zeroed in on the red and purple bruises on Benny’s swollen hand, and realised sickly that his compulsion did that.

“Benny… your hand…”

“Save it, Amber-ose.” Benny spat. The dip between Benny’s thumb and middle finger had split from the force of Ambrose’s compulsion, steadily dripping blood onto the varnished wooden floor.

“I’m not with him,” Ambrose protested, pushing himself up a little and trying to get to his feet, but the world spun and he fell again, sliding down until his arse hit the ground. “He has… he’s—”

“He said this arsehole has his friend captive,” Lyra said, hazel eyes cutting from Nathan’s face to Ambrose’s. Angry, but believing. She believed him, though he doubted he would be spared a bullet if he let her move. “Said that creep Jude is watching him and if he doesn’t do what he says, he’ll let Jude kill him.”

Benny’s blue eyes turned down, drooping at the sides. “I’m sorry, brother,” Benny said. “You are in as much as the rest of us.”

“Now that we’re all caught up to speed,” Nathan said, clapping his hands together. The sound was like a bullet through Ambrose’s brain. “How about we get down to business?”

“What is your business?” Ambrose demanded, practically spitting his words. All he could think about was Max telling him that Benny was in some trouble, that Max was worried about him. Is Nathan the problem?

Christ, he couldn’t think straight, his brain blurry. Fucking Jude and this hangover and Max’s punches, now Benny’s blows, he was shocked he wasn’t unconscious yet, probably concussed. Maybe, definitely concussed.

Benny frowned, eyes on Ambrose, still frozen. “You don’t know?”

Ambrose frowned, the motion too difficult to convey so he flattened his face, holding his head and stifling a moan. If Ambrose thought of it, he could dip into Benny’s mind and read the message he was storing, roaring, trying to let Ambrose hear, but Ambrose was too focused on staying awake.

“Benny,” Nathan said, his tone dipping low in warning. “Naughty, naughty. Don’t you remember what I can do to you?”

Ambrose shut his eyes tight, planting his hand on the ground and pushing himself up. He had to grip the podium for the fittings and push himself all the way, stumbling back into the mirror when he got to his feet.

Black eyes unfocused, glazed over and swimming with colour, but he tried to focus on Nathan.

“What’re you saying, Nathan? Why are we here?”

Nathan smiled again Ambrose. Its effect was like an avalanche of cold, mountains of snow threatening to bury Ambrose under the weight of it, sending tremors of terror down his spine.

His mind screaming at him to notice something he was missing. To see what was right in front of him. His blood rushed in his ears as he took a step forward, silently releasing Benny in his mind: you can move freely. The effect was too much for Ambrose to bear, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as if someone had just switched off his power.

Benny stood taller, and he turned to Ambrose, catching him before his head smacked off the wood, but it didn’t matter. The darkness swallowed Ambrose, Nathan’s voice speaking in the background as he submitted to unconsciousness.

*~*~*~*~*

Ambrose woke in a car, sprawled out in the backseat. He groaned as the light assaulted his senses. Fuck. His head was pounding, and he let out a soft groan.

“Oh, you’re awake sleepyhead?” Ambrose’s eyes shot open, his heart seizing in his chest. Nathan. He forgot. Why were they in a car? What happened to Benny? “You should try and get back to sleep, Osk. We’ll be there soon.”

“Where?” Ambrose ground out, the words rattling his skull and agitating his head.

Nathan’s swirling eyes met Ambrose’s in the rearview. “To Kit. That’s where you wanted to go, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s where we’re heading.”

“What did you do to Benny?”

Nathan chuckled. It was as if he had shot a bolt of metal through Ambrose’s spinal cord, freezing him as the metal scraped off bone. “You didn’t hear?”

“I was kind of unconscious for it,” Ambrose said tightly. Nathan’s eyes were back on the road, but it didn’t make him feel any less observed. Any less seen. The same nagging thing pulled at his mind like a child trying to get their parents attention.

Nathan chuckled again, this time lighter. “I suppose you were. But he was thinking very loud, Oskar. I’m surprised you didn’t hear.”

“Hear what?” Ambrose asked, pushing himself to sit up in the backseat, the world tilting around him. He felt like he was going to throw up. Nathan met his gaze in the rearview again and only then did Nathan’s words register in his mind. Ambrose must have froze or stiffened or showed his emotion on his face. “What do you mean his thoughts were loud?”

Nathan’s laugh was musical, pulling at Ambrose’s heart strings. “Come on Osk, you’re smarter than this.”

“Well I may have a concussion or two so cut me some slack,” Ambrose snapped. His breathing hitched, becoming erratic suddenly as his brain burst through the bars of the cell in his skull.

Nathan remained stubbornly silent, forcing Ambrose’s memory to try and colour in the gaps. Come on, Oskar, follow the context clues. He was— in Max’s bar he was fixing up Jude’s tab from the night before, the night with Jude, and Max said Jude knew Supervillain, and worked with him. Partners. Nathan’s grin at Ambrose’s mention of Jude, “why? Jealous, Osk?”

Jealous.

Was he jealous?

No. That’s not the important part. Come on!

Not just Kit, the other heroes. Kit was patrolling last night, looking for Supervillain and now Nathan and Jude had him, and…

“Ah,” Nathan said, revelling in Ambrose’s cold realisation. “There you go, Oskar. You got there eventually.”

“You…” Ambrose said, his voice losing breath and the words tapering off. “You… you can’t be Supervillain. You… you don’t even have powers!”

Nathan smirked in reply but didn’t answer. It irked something inside Ambrose, making him lean forward. “Right?! You don’t have powers, except resistance to—”

Ambrose grabbed his pulsing temple, cutting himself off. Nathan only has defensive abilities. He wasn’t powered, he couldn’t be, he had never— Ambrose had never seen. Natural immunity. That’s it. Not, not— how could he hear Benny’s thoughts? Mentor’s Telekinesis? He couldn’t—

“Explain,” Ambrose said, his voice a growl.

Nathan hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “What do you want me to explain?”

“How can you— people can’t have more than one power.”

“I don’t,” Nathan said with a shrug.

“Then what?! How! How can you use Mentor’s— you- you’re fucking lying to me!”

Nathan’s gaze doused the simmering rage in Ambrose. “Am I?”

And Ambrose knew he wasn’t.

He knew it, but he didn’t want to know it.

“You… you— you can’t be Supervillain,” Ambrose whispered. Hoping that if he repeated it enough it would make it true. He felt the overwhelming urge to cry and scream and rage and claw Nathan’s eyes out, but he just shook in the backseat, every part of his body trembling as if he was just dunked into an ice bath.

“And yet, I am, sweetheart. God, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to tell you, Oskar. But I knew, I knew I had to wait and be patient, and now that we’re together again I will explain everything when we get home.”

“Why did you take Kit?”

“To get to you, dummy,” Nathan replied with a lopsided smile. A smile full of love and Ambrose wanted to get sick. “And I got you, didn’t I? Go back to sleep, love. I’ll wake you when we get home.”

Ambrose didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to do anything, while simultaneously wanting to open the backdoor and jump out, or pull the steering wheel and throw up. He wanted to fight, but sleep was already pulling heavy down on his eyelids, and he curled back up beside the door, and closed his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*

The door squeaked open, light crawling along the stairs with a jolt and vanished just as quick as someone started skipping down the stairs. “Oh, Kit~”

Kit straightened as much as he could in the cuffs, stealing his expression to a stoic indifference.

Jude appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his green eyes gleaming with malice and a twisted delight. “I had a little deal with Supervillain. He said, if he didn’t text me every ten minutes then I was allowed to have fun with you! It’s been fifteen minutes, Kit. You know what that means?”

Tides and Sawyer woke at the sound, Sawyer freezing, his arms wound tightly around Tides who was trembling in his hold.

Jude’s eyes lazily flickered to the pair. “Aw, aren’t you two just sweethearts? Tell you what, if you be good I won’t even lock you up again!”

“You said you’re going to hurt Kit,” Sawyer told him. “Why would we just sit tight?”

Jude walked over to him and crouched down in front of the pair, tilting his head to the side as he regarded Sawyer. “I don’t know if they lied to you about how bad your face was, or you just don’t care, but if you don’t want me to force you to return the favour to your girlfriend there, I’d suggest you shut the fuck up and be a good little hostage, hmm?”

“You—”

“Sawyer,” Kit said, his voice hollow, yet still managing to cut through Sawyer’s. “Don’t. Just do what he says. I’ll be… I’ll be fine.”

“Kit—”

“You heard the boy, he’ll be fine!” Jude said with a wave, bouncing to his feet and walking around Kit to uncuff him from the wall. It was going to be nice, Kit realised, not having his hands glued above his head for a while. They fell like they were made of cement once Jude opened the cuffs and Kit groaned as he felt pins and needles thrum beneath the skin.

Pins and needles and something else.

Something… electric. Kit hid it, hoping that Jude couldn’t read minds like Ambrose could but when Jude started to pull Kit to his feet, Kit was almost certain that he couldn’t. Which meant that Kit had the leverage, but he would have to use it quickly if he wanted to keep it.

As Jude dragged Kit over to the chair, Kit felt the well of electricity surge within him, grabbing onto Jude’s arm as if he was about to fall. Jude was none the wiser, the stupid grin still on his face. Kit took a deep breath, and let the valve to his powers open from his brain to the tips of his toes and around his body.

Supervillain had used Omen’s commands to restrict their powers.

Too bad that didn’t work on Kit anymore.

Kit dug his fingers into Jude’s shoulders with one hand, the other at his side. He clicked his fingers and red lightning sparked like a glove from his free hand to the one holding Jude in the blink of an eye. Jude was too slow to react, his eyes blown wide before he was thrown across the room along with Kit from the sheer force of the red lightning.

Jude’s spine hit the wall and he collapsed, twitching on the ground from the impact as the lightning scorched his body.

Oh… that felt good, the voice in Kit’s head said as he straightened, suddenly rejuvenated after releasing the pent up energy on someone without worrying if they’d live or die. It was like stretching for the first tike after being trapped in a tight, constricted pose for a while, his body nourishing itself as the lightning ran up and down his body, lashing out every once in a while.

Kit ran a hand through his hair, exhilarated, a wide smile cutting into his cheeks as he walked towards Jude, ready to finish the job checking to see if he was still alive.

“Kit?” Kit stopped, glancing over his shoulder to see Tides and Sawyer gawking at him with wide eyes. Sawyer’s arm tight around Tides. Kit tilted his head, hungry eyes stalking the tenderness.

Sawyer kept his eyes on Kit’s, not flinching away. “Leave him, we need to get out of here, okay?”

Kit frowned. “But—” he began, his voice crackling like a walkie-talkie.

“I need your help,” Sawyer said, cutting Kit off again. Kit glanced back at Jude’s body, glaring at the shallow rise and fall of his back. “Kit.”

Kit shook his head and sighed, the electricity slowly leaving his body. “Fine. Let’s go.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie e @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @@dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

[afoggymirror]

반짝반짝 너와 함께 있을 때

‧ ₊ ˚ * ๋࣭ ⭑ ⚝ twinkle twinkle when i’m with you ༘ 𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

broke!annyeongz | smut; fluff; puppygirl!Yujin; petplay; shock collar; drunk sex; heavy foot stuff; light hypno; light overstimulation word count | 8000 ao3

Buried several pages deep into a small newspaper, back in her old home town, she’d once read a completely inane story that, God knows why, lodged itself in her brain. It was about a local woman who, due to health complications, had lost the use of her legs, and so she trained her dog – a very pretty Border Collie mix – to fetch the groceries from the local store. Why this story just so happened to pop into her head again at that very moment, Yujin could only guess.

In total, she was carrying five bags: her purse from work balanced precariously on one shoulder, a large tote bag filled to the brim with stuff from the supermarket, and three plastic bags full of whatever couldn’t fit in the second bag. Really, Yujin wouldn’t mind carrying all this junk if it weren’t so fucking cold that day. She’d walked all from the office to the store with her hands awkwardly buried into her armpits for warmth.

She shitstepped around a corner and away from the wind. Her head sunk into her scarf and all the hair she had wrapped it around. Her breath condensed in the air, painting the view of the city around her a paler shade of gray. For a moment, something changed she felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her. The next moment she realized one of her bags had just ripped.

“Ah, shit,” she heard a loud, glassy thoonk against the pavement below, “fuck.” Yujin craned her neck, just fast enough to see the bottle of wine bounce a few times, before rolling to a lazy stop against a concrete bench nearby.

Waddling as fast as she could between the bags and her long fuzzy trench coat – its bottom now certainly coated in gunk from brushing against the ground – she squatted awkwardly to pick up the wine. A light pink rosé, one that they’d never tried before, but which seemed like something they would enjoy, soft and smooth, tending towards a dry. The bottle had some scratches where it hit the ground, but it looked to be intact otherwise. Thank God, who knows what Wony would have her do if she knew she’d wasted nice booze.

Maybe it was her mind conjuring Wony, maybe it was the Sun hitting the bottle and projecting pastel pink swirls onto the pavement, but the city suddenly seemed a lot less gray. Yujin saw in color. It was a Friday, and she was about spend three days with the love of her life. She wanted to hold the feeling in her hand, but instead she held the bottle tight and continued to waddle home, newly oblivious to the strain on her wrists, from where all the groceries now bounced.

Yujin arrived at their apartment building – a discreet little place, not far from the heart of the city – and fumbled taking the keys from her purse, fumbling through the front door and fumbling with the elevator button. She stood in front of the metal doors for a little while before remembering that the elevator broke that week. She took the stairs.

Entering the studio apartment, Yujin took off her shoes and her coat, before dumping all the groceries on the kitchen counter and diving onto bed. The kitchen counter and the bed were, of course, a few feet apart. Their apartment was very small.

She let herself relax, but not for long. Wonyoung wouldn’t be back for a little while, but she still had a lot to prepare before then.

Before the tiredness could get to her, she got up and got to work putting away the groceries. Her mind wandered through the minutes, taking salmon fillets from their package, laying them on a pan with oil (just a little oil, Wony was sensitive about that), setting the water to boil for the pasta…

A nice smell began to drift from the fish on the stove, and she opened the large window at the end of the studio apartment, so it wouldn’t be overbearing later. Wony was also sensitive about that. Speaking of which, was she supposed to leave the wine in the fridge? They’re meant to be in room temperature but Yujin remembered hearing it might be different for rosés?

Her mind busied itself as the Sun lowered in the sky. This evening must have cost most of her paycheck that month, and preparing it was becoming exhausting very quickly, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that Wonyoung had a really bad week at work, and if Yujin could do anything to make it better, she would, regardless of price.

Often, she would catch herself fantasizing her words, once Wony got home. Hey baby! she would say, romantic, I know these weeks have been rough for you, I hope I can help get your mind off things for the weekend. Are you hungry? The dinner in her mind tasted amazing, they ate and then went out and then danced through the night, and when they came back their shitty studio had become a beautiful refuge, shielded from the world, lit by stars and candles and fairy lights- oh yeah, shit, the fairy lights!

She plugged in the lights that hung around the far window, framing the darkening sky in a homely orange glow. The dinner was ready by then: salmon and small farfalle with a light lemon and garlic cream, which she plated all fancy, just like they’d seen that guy do in Masterchef. Wony had to have gotten off work about now and Yujin was a little behind getting everything ready – one thing, she really needed a shower.

Yujin covered their shitty, repurposed garden table in a big, Lady and the Tramp-type cloth, magically converting it into the scene of a beautiful dinner, and was halfway turning to find a candle, when she caught sight of something weird, a really ugly orange stain on the floor tiles. Oh, absolutely not, what the fuck was that? She grabbed the rubbing alcohol and some towels and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, but the damn thing wouldn’t come off.

And so, when Wonyoung first saw her that evening, Yujin was on her knees, messy hair and work clothes, swiping at some unknown goo on the floor.

“Oh hey, the maid is here!” Wony joked, taking off her shoes at the door.

Yujin’s heart jumped. She turned around to see her girlfriend, an apparition framed in the light of the door way, long hair and winter coat trailing behind her in the air, her beauty gleaming even through the tired face of someone who’d just left a full work week.

All Yujin’s preparation faded from her mind. Through all these years, she could never get used to seeing Wonyoung. She wanted to say she loved her. She wanted to recite all the sweet nothings she’d practiced, to tell her how glad she was to see her and how lucky she was to be with her and that she gave her life meaning.

Instead, the stunned lump in her throat won, and what she said was,

“Did you like, puke on the floor here? What the fuck is this stain?”

“Language!” Wonyoung half-laughed, leaving her purse and coat on the counter and climbing straight into bed, “it’s probably something your clumsy ass spilled.”

Yujin rolled her eyes,

“My clumsy a- hey, don’t go on the bed with outside clothes!”

“You do it too!”

She literally did earlier. Whatever. Yujin turned and kept wiping at this cum stain or whatever this was. Oh yeah wait, she didn’t even say hi to the love of her life.

“Stop cleaning,” Wonyoung said in a whine, and Yujin stopped.

She looked back up at Wonyoung, puppy eyes failing to mask the expectant adoration they always held.

Wony laid back on the comfy bunch of plushies and pillows they kept propped against the the wall and, pouting, opened her arms wide, “hug.”

The word was a higher force moving her, Yujin dropped everything and jumped onto bed, scaling the pillows to lay her head on Wony’s shoulder. Wonyoung wrapped her arms around Yujin like she would any other plushie. Half her head was covered by a forearm and it was a little hard to breathe. She was in heaven.

“Good girl…”

Yujin’s cheeks turned red under Wony’s arms. She couldn’t help but smile her wide, dimply smile, before burrowing deeper into her love’s shoulder. There it was. That weird burning pride that made her want to hide her face. “Good girl,” why did she like saying that? Yujin was literally older than her.

They were both very young when they moved in together, and it had been scary for both. They’d been dating for a few years, and friends long before that, so they knew they’d always have each other. Still, things changed fast, money was tight, and work was insufferable. Since Yujin arrived in town, they’d jumped from shitty studio apartment to shitty studio apartment, frail ships braving the blinding city lights.

When everything else was uncertain, some things had to stay constant: their kiss, their arms, their love.

Wonyoung was warm. Yujin assumed she was, too. Neither had really rested all day. Wony’s wispy, flowery perfume hung now low and scarce around her slender neck. Yujin reached her head to kiss it, kissed down to her shoulders. Her eyes focused on Wony’s delicate collar bones, gentle beneath the wide neck of her blouse. Yujin traced them lightly with her fingers,

“Oh yeah I uh… I made you dinner.”

“Yeah, I can smell it.”

“Do you want some?”

“Later.”

“…”

“…”

“…it’s gonna get cold.”

“We can eat it cold.”

“…”

“…”

C… can we? Yujin hesitated, is salmon ok cold?

Wony’s remained stoic in her poutyness, though Yujin could see her fighting her cheek from forming a smile. Clearly she picked up on Yujin’s worries, and found them cute.

I guess salmon can go on sushi…

“Is… is the smell too strong, do you want me to go open another window?”

“Stay,” she squeezed Yujin tighter.

She stayed.

Wonyoung pet her hair. She got chills. Wony was right, they didn’t need to get up to eat right now. Or get up for any reason, really.

“Actually, go get the remote.”

Yujin got up and crawled to the corner of the bed where the remote had fallen and fetched it, immediately coming back to the pillows. Wonyoung set the TV to the most vapid thing she could find, at a volume just loud enough that they could hear the voices but not distinguish the words.

Hands weaved through Yujin’s hair, scratching lightly, drawing slow paths from the top of her head, ending behind her ear. Shivers followed where the finger tips passed. Yujin felt herself sink deeper into the crook of Wony’s neck, felt a sleepy whimper push through the lump on her throat, felt her vision blur just a little. She hadn’t noticed, but she really was tired.

Her bangs were scratching her eyes a little. Yujin liked her hair short, but these days she hadn’t had the time to have it cut, it grew to her shoulders. Moving a hand up to adjust, pushing off the weight of sleep, took considerable effort. She eyed the TV, but couldn’t make out much. Muffled sounds meshed together in a lullaby, frames blended in impressions of waves, the rhythm of Wony’s breath and the beating of Wony’s heart swayed her as the tides.

With the way things had been at Wony’s work, Yujin knew better than to ask about her day. She was somebody who knew what she wanted, so if she said she just wanted to snuggle and fall asleep to the TV, that’s what Yujin would give her.

It killed her to see Wonyoung this tired. Yujin’s mind had run in circles all day, and even now it jumped from the food which was getting cold, to the bugs coming in from the open window, to how she should clean the floor later… but she knew none of these things mattered. Meaningless gestures to distract from what really troubled her: Wony’s life wasn’t perfect, she couldn’t make it perfect, and it wasn’t fair.

Wony was radiant, blinding, the light from which all else emanated. Yujin couldn’t find the words to express her adoration. It twisted her throat into knots, filled her mind with useless concerns, filled her mouth with stupid irony. When they were younger, first falling for each other, Yujin was nervous, a giddy mess of jumbled feelings, but she somehow felt more at ease expressing herself. Now that they had set into domestic life, that habit gripped them in its jaws, she often felt that her words had dried.

Not a moment passed when she didn’t have something on her chest. She wanted to tell her all she felt, give her everything she had. She wanted to change it all, make this broken world right, make it so Wonyoung never had to work another day in her life, so she’d live life as a princess in a soft, cotton-candy cloud far above it all, away from any sorrows or worries.

And in that moment, Wonyoung twitched a little. She was falling asleep, deep amid the pile of soft pink pillows. She did not seem worried in the slightest.

Before long the arms that squeezed Yujin tight relaxed, the hand waving through her hair came to a stop. She felt the sway of Wonyoung’s breath slow further, her chest rising and falling at a measured pace. Yujin blinked lazily to focus her clouded gaze, chancing a glimpse up towards Wony’s face, and saw it still, doll-like, eyes peacefully shut and lips just a little parted, lit by fairy lights and the flickering ghosts of the TV screen.

Wony was ok. And Yujin was ok, because she was in Wony’s arms.

After chasing her tail all day, Yujin felt the exhaustion truly creep in.

She settled her arms around Wony’s stomach in a way that wouldn’t trouble her love’s breathing, and allowed sleep to take her over.

A faint, compressed gun shot rang out from the low-quality speakers, just loud enough to rouse Yujin. Instantly she noticed something missing. Her body was submerged in pillows, but the comforting arms that held her were gone.

Sleep covered her eyes, her vision was a few large orange blots of light and the vague, blinding rectangle of whatever drama was on TV.

“This is really nice,” Wonyoung’s voice was inviting, accompanied by a slow harmony of metal cutlery on porcelain, somewhere off to her left.

Of course, looking there showed only an array of strange halos, scintillating stars that, really, probably didn’t amount to more than fairy lights hung onto the curtains. A slender shadow amid the dazzling glow sat looking back at her.

“It would be nicer if we’d eaten it warm,” Yujin’s irony woke up before she did.

“You feel asleep too!” she didn’t need to see Wony clearly to sense the laugh in her voice, “you were snoring, did you know that? You snored really loud just now, it’s probably what woke you up.”

“I woke up because you left the TV on too loud!”

“Well then turn it off and go back to sleep!”

Yujin stretched before palming around the pillows, finding the remote and turning off the TV, suddenly noticing she didn’t want to go back to sleep. She looked back at Wonyoung, still blinking mist from her eyes, as if to ask if she really had to.

“I was joking, come eat.”

She went.

Yujin didn’t know why Wonyoung’s words had this effect on her. It was Pavlovian. Her reflex was to please.

Wony’s glass was empty so Yujin filled it again.

“Is the wine good? I was a little worried it wouldn’t pair well with the fish.”

Wonyoung looked at her and smiled,

“You’re so cute,” she picked up the glass and swirled it absentmindedly, “the wine is wonderful.”

Heat creeped to Yujin’s cheeks. She sat, averted her eyes, still hazy from sleep, and began stuffing her mouth with food.

“So my day was awful, but how was yours?” Wonyoung asked, reaching out across the table and stroking Yujin’s wrist.

“I, uh…” frankly, she was drawing a blank. All memories from the previous hours were of worrying about Wonyoung. She knew she’d been neglecting her own things to care for Wony. She couldn’t just admit that, though, “I sure cleaned the house a lot for your ass.”

Wind passed through Wony’s nose faster than usual, in what could, generously, be called a laugh. A laugh, however, which clearly held less patience than it did even a few minutes ago. Sometimes Wonyoung seemed as frustrated with Yujin as Yujin was with herself.

Still, if they weren’t done teasing, Wonyoung would make the most of it.

“Oh yeah? What a good little girl…”

Yujin’s face was on fire.

“Stop calling me that, I am literally older than you.”

Wony leaned forward to rest her cheek on one hand, eyes locked to Yujin’s.

“You know, you’ve been such a good girl today, I’m thinking I might even indulge your weird foot thing.”

“I do not have a foot thi-!” Yujin felt a sock crawl playfully up her calf, coming to a stop between her thighs.

A giggle lost itself between Wonyoung’s lips,

“I’m not judging!” Satisfied with Yujin’s discomfort, she changed the subject, “anyway, you were saying about your day?”

Wonyoung pushed her heel slowly into her. Yujin made a fist, held her knuckles to her mouth, chanced a glimpse up at Wony through her bangs. She couldn’t meet her smiling face for long, her eyes closed before gluing themselves to her plate again.

She scrambled for words to say. Of course she could speak like normal, this wasn’t distracting. She didn’t even know where Wony got the idea she liked foot stuff. She began a story about someone from work who ate at their desk yesterday and so today they had ants inside their laptop or whatever.

Wonyoung pushed firmly against her. Yujin pushed her hips back against her foot. Shit. Maybe Wony didn’t notice her sudden eagerness, maybe she still had plausible deniability. Wony noticed,

“Oh you love this,” she laughed, rocking her slender leg into Yujin at a quick rhythm, “gross baby.”

“Stop…” Yujin angled herself so Wony would be pressing at the right spot.

“Do you want me to stop?” She leaned further, chin resting on both hands, her voice affecting the tone of someone being nice, “I’ll stop if you want.”

Yujin still wore work pants, but the pressure was having its effect, even through the fabric and the shame. Maybe because of them.

“Mm… mm-mmm…” she shook her head no.

She was warm. Not just her cheeks, though those burned with the fires of Hell. All of her. She was a gradient from the heat building in her core to the shame blazing across her face. The fairy lights shone on Wonyoung’s pale skin, a spotlight beaming straight at her,

“Say it with your words, baby.”

A weak moan broke through Yujin’s lips. She wasn’t even entirely sure why. Maybe Wonyoung’s taunts, maybe the fabric rubbing against her skin, beginning to make her sensitive, beginning to hurt. Maybe the confusion itself, the sleepy, shameful heat. Wony knew how to play her, make her confused, and she loved doing it. Wony loved to cause an impression.

“You don’t have… to stop…”

“Stop what?”

Yujin looked back up, a little dumbfounded. What did she want from her now?

“‘Please don’t stop fucking me with your foot, miss Wonyoung. I love this,’” she tilted her head to the side, a cat playing with its food. “Say it.”

Her obedient reflex finally found resistance. Yujin looked mortified. She had a hard time talking about her day, let alone whatever this was.

“Ah,” Wonyoung sighed, performing great impatience, crossing her arms, “I knew you wouldn’t say it,” she pulled her foot from Yujin’s thighs. There was peace under the table.

Sometimes – and for reasons Yujin found easy to ascertain after the fact, but nearly impossible to predict – Wonyoung would simply turn a key. The playful tone that lately permeated their every conversation would feel heavy, trite compared to what they could be saying, those words they both knew were stuck in Yujin’s throat. And so, to entertain themselves, Wonyoung would stop playing, and begin toying with her. Yujin was hers for the night.

“…why are you like this?” Yujin smiled, finally allowing herself to lift her eyes, half shaded by her bangs, and meet Wonyoung’s again.

“You know, I actually bought you something too,” she crossed her legs, and pointed theatrically across the apartment to the kitchen counter, deep into the recesses where the fairy lights could barely light the orange walls. “Go get it from my purse.”

Before Yujin knew it she was in the kitchen, half engulfed by darkness, fumbling through Wony’s purse. It didn’t take long to find what she needed. She pulled out the strange object, squinting to identify it in the dim light. It resembled a thin but sturdy choker, except for a large, black, plastic cube poking from one side.

“Come,” Wony waved, struggling to hide a smile.

“You’re evil,” Yujin went.

“And you’re cute.” Wonyoung pulled Yujin’s chair with two fingers so it faced the window, “sit.”

She sat.

Her heart thumped.

Wonyoung leaned in behind her, held her neck soft with one hand, moved her hair aside with the other, breathed into her shoulder. The warmth of her engulfed Yujin, scarce, stuffy perfume from yesterday intoxicating.

She tried to adjust her posture, arch her back just a little, act like she was comfortable, fully awake and present of body and mind. Like her sleep-deprived eyes weren’t blending the little fairy lights in front of her with the city lights beyond. Like Wonyoung’s fingers didn’t feel like feather pillows, tracing their way from behind her neck around the collar of her shirt, like she didn’t feel herself sinking into them just a little.

She wasn’t fooling anyone. Wonyoung knew she couldn’t think straight. That’s how she wanted her.

“You’ve been thinking too much these days, baby girl.” Oh my God I am older than you, Yujin still considered saying. “And saying too much nonsense.” She was glad not to have said anything. “Why don’t we shut you up for the night, and help you relax a little?”

Now that threw her for a loop. Wony seemed tired these days, that was evident. But did Yujin look like she needed a break too…?

Wonyoung’s breath hitched against the back of Yujin’s neck as she reached to take the collar from her hands. Wony might have been perfect, but even her poker face could slip sometimes. For a second her breathing skipped, it lacked the regal, gracious rhythm she usually projected, for just a second she exhaled too heavy and too fast, betrayed the excitement she felt having Yujin in her hands.

She snaked the collar underneath Yujin’s hair, shoulder length and airy, it moved with Wony’s fingers, reeds on a warm breeze. It tickled, Yujin shivered. She felt the collar clasp behind her, her breathing restrict just a little in its tight hold, and in a second the apprehension hit. How strong would the shock be? She’d find out soon, she guessed. The next time she made a noise. Did Wony even test this?

For what it was worth, Wony didn’t seem concerned. Petting her hair before circling around Yujin, a satisfied “ah” left her lips. An expression like she had something to share, she half turned to one side, to the other, looking for the handle on the window. She slid it half way closed, just enough for Yujin to see herself, reflection vivid against the backdrop of the dark city, framed by the tiny orange lights. She hadn’t seen clearly in what felt like hours, from sleep, from shame, apprehension. Nothing that night felt real, Wonyoung had created a dream for her. But there in front of her, her reflection was crystal clear.

Yujin looked beautiful. She would never have guessed it, the way her work shirt still clung to her with yesterday’s effort, the way her thoughts drifted directionless through the fog of sleep. But she did, she looked beautiful. Her hair, some locks stuck under the choker, bubbled in a messy volume, made her collar bones, her half visible shoulders under the crumpled shirt, glow against the night. Framed her face to accentuate the giddy loyalty she felt with Wony next to her. That Wony brought out of her.

For a moment she couldn’t tell the gleam in her eyes from the stars beyond the window. She looked to her love, golden in the half-light, convinced that the Sun herself was beside her.

“You’re so pretty,” Wony complained, eyes burning into Yujin,

“Ah-” bzzt. Dozens of pins pricked the side of her neck.

A triumphant smile spread through Wony’s face. She had made Yujin forget about the collar entirely.

“Great, it works,” still smiling, she brushed Yujin’s hair into place, delicate, “is it too strong, baby?”

Yujin gave it some thought. The shock had been a little too strong, she did feel a lot of pain, but it made Wony smile, and so she could endure a million shocks just like it. She shook her head “no.”

Wonyoung’s eyes pierced hers,

“Say it.”

Wony’s smile spread to Yujin. She pursed her lips, then, resigned, enounced,

“It’s not-” bzzt.

Seeing Yujin jump, Wonyoung’s smile widened. She moved her legs, tossed her long hair over one shoulder, straddled Yujin’s lap, sent her arms loose over Yujin’s shoulders and the back of the chair, an angel descending upon Yujin.

Yujin held her slim frame, one hand resting on her stomach, another exploring her shoulder blades, pulling her close. She caught a scent, one more personal than the flowered perfume hanging low from Wony’s neck, one just a little savory, sneaking into her with a kiss. The soft lips she loved so much embraced her senses, pulling her deeper into a dream.

Her love was weightless over her, a warm cloud, a rising air current to make her soar. Wonyoung’s kisses moved along her jaw, her head fell further to the side, allowing passage. She felt her hair be brushed back, a soft teasing bite on her ear lobe. She shuddered into Wonyoung’s shoulder, heat building up in her again. Wony’s hair brushed her cheek as she kissed her way down her neck.

Yujin opened her eyes to see herself, pretty reflection bright against the city night, eclipsed by the flowing white blouse and the flowing black hair of the girl she loved, falling over her. Just then, Wony opened the first button of her shirt, pulling it aside to expose her shoulder, before biting down. Yujin moaned, loud.

Bzzt.

Needles traipsed around her neck. She jumped again. The sudden pain brought a spasm from her, sent her arm twitching, her hand made to wrap around Wony’s fore arm. A smile formed on Wonyoung’s face again, Yujin could feel it buried on her shoulder. Wony loved making her feel like this, confused and hazy under her, incapable of thinking straight even for self-preservation, a lucid dream Wony could turn from joyous to apprehensive to painful and back again at will.

She lifted her head, looked down at Yujin. Her smile settled into a smirk, knowing, like she had just divined a way to extend Yujin’s bliss. Tossing her hair over her shoulders, Wony stretched to reach aside, to the table next to them, and when her hand came back into Yujin’s view, it carried with it the rosé. She took a long, comfortable swig, stopping to move the wine around in her mouth a little, breathe in the after taste,

“You should try the wine, baby.”

One hand moving behind Yujin’s neck, she positioned the bottle to pour into her mouth. The wine came slow. It was nice, clearly not the most expensive, not the most complex taste or whatever, but for their standards it was nice. Yujin swallowed, a little rushed as Wony didn’t stop pouring. In fact she seemed to be pouring faster.

Wonyoung’s eyes became sharper, her smile more intent, the more uncomfortable Yujin became. Wine invaded her, she didn’t want to move her head and make a mess – really she didn’t want to deny Wony whatever she wanted with this – but it was becoming harder and harder to gulp down what she was given.

It filled her mouth, her throat already felt a little restricted from the choker, she swallowed, and swallowed, until her muscles sent a spout from the corner of her lips. She shut her eyes, shaking her head reflexively though never daring take her mouth from the bottle, and a loud whimper left her. Bzzt.

The pain contracted her throat, sent spurts of wine down her chin. Wonyoung laughed. She might have hated wasting booze, but this wasn’t wasting, she seemed very entertained. She pulled the bottle from Yujin’s mouth and took it back to her own. Yujin’s throat burned, some wine had gone down the wrong hole and she had to fight the urge to cough loudly. She felt her chin drip, liquid begin to soak her chest,

“My shir-!” Bzzt.

“That shirt was thrifted baby, it’s not the end of the world.”

I might have to buy a new one next week for work, the worry crossed her mind, before she distracted herself with an attempt to cough quietly enough that it wouldn’t trigger the collar, before her eyes lost themselves again on Wony. If she wanted Yujin to stop worrying, it was working. In her confusion, she could focus on nothing else but her.

Wony stretched to put the bottle back on the table before leaning over Yujin, half-open eyes possessive.

“My messy little girl,” Yujin’s cheeks were red for so many different reasons at this point, hearing her say that barely made a difference. She climbed off Yujin, “wait here, I’ll get something to help you clean up.”

Sounds of drawers and kitchen utensils echoed for longer than expected. Bzzt, Yujin’s neck contracted in pain despite not having said anything. She turned to look at Wony,

“Ow-!” bzzt again.

“Hey, it works!” Wonyoung beamed from behind her, pocketing a little remote. She ran a hand through Yujin’s hair, looking down in greed. She pulled slowly on Yujin’s hair, leaning her head back, pulling a handkerchief to wipe carefully at her chin. Yujin reached with one hand, grasping blind at her love’s thigh, eager to pull her closer. Wony acquiesced, grinning, coming closer to tower over Yujin, pulling her hair further back, so she’d see it fully as she reached an arm behind herself, and grabbed a chain she carried over her shoulders.

Wony leaned in to kiss her again, the side angle a little awkward, her hands wrapping soft around Yujin’s neck, a touch of the chain cold against her skin. The metal ran down her chest, crawled over her as Wony moved to attach it to her collar.

She broke the kiss a little too soon, leaned back, one hand cupping Yujin’s cheek, the other wrapping itself in other end of the chain,

“Well… this is great, but I actually want to finish my dinner.”

Um…

“Wony what the fu-” bzzt.

Wony what the fuck are you talking about, she thought, with her inside voice.

Wonyoung pulled away, walked around her toward the table, lips twisted into a smile, chain growing taut between them. She stopped, brought a finger to her lips, affecting like she was really considering what to do next, then pulled strong on the chain.

The tug on Yujin’s neck – the alcohol might have begun to set in – sent her off balance, tumbling. The little lights next to her darted fast past her vision. The floor welcomed her with open arms. Before even fully regaining her senses, her eyes followed, incredulous, the chain up to where Wonyoung stood, a satisfied smirk on her face,

“Come on, girl,” she said, tone half baby talk, “let’s eat.”

Something told Yujin she wasn’t supposed to get up again. Wony continued pulling on the leash, walking carefree to her seat at the table, it was all Yujin could do to follow on all fours.

Wony sat, legs crossed, Yujin knelt. She looked up, expectant, eyes big under her bangs, afraid of what her love had in mind. Wonyoung ate a piece of salmon, some noodles, absentminded, like she’d forgotten Yujin was there.

“Oh, why don’t you entertain yourself while we’re here?” Wony, suppressing a smirk, pushed one foot forward, as if offering it to Yujin.

Frustrated, she blinked, eyeing Wony through messy bangs, furrowed brow and pursed lips. The heat in her cheeks grew insufferable again.

“Come on,” Wonyoung mocked, pulling Yujin by the chain, bending her closer, “don’t be shy.”

Yujin sighed, thankfully too quiet to trigger the collar, laughing a little to the side so Wony wouldn’t see. The window next to them was harder to see through the lights, but the glimpse she caught was beautiful. Wonyoung, long flowing hair, pretty with her posture perfect, enjoying dinner and a nice wine, her in disheveled formal wear, bent before her in chains. This was fine.

She leaned forward, Wonyoung’s foot bobbing close to her, black sock worn with its seam a little off-center. Reaching under her sole and around her ankle for support, she leaned forward and kissed it. Wonyoung chuckled above the table, she did too. She leaned again, kissed down the bridge of her foot,

She was serious. She actually didn’t like feet – she did not! – there was just something comforting about this. Embarrassing herself in front of Wony, expressing her adoration in such a direct, if gross, way.

And adore she did, compelled, by whatever force, to pull off Wony’s sock. She heard more quiet giggling from above the table, Wony crossed her legs in the opposite direction, allowed her to pull off the other. Her feet were long, slim, her skin soft and pristine save for a vein visible when she moved, bones gentle around her slender ankles. They were pretty, she concluded – like how she would comment on a friend’s hair style, not like she would say if she was into feet, which she was not.

When Wony lowered her eyes again, Yujin was deep into a kiss, lost in the skin between two knuckles.

“Here, get the bottom, too,” she flexed her ankle, mocking, pushing her sole to Yujin, before tugging on the leash. It was all Yujin could do to keep herself from smashing face first. She wanted to pull away, take a moment to even process Wony’s words, but her neck was pulled back into place. It was alright, her soles were pretty as well.

She leaned in to kiss her heel, her arches. Her hands held up Wony’s ankle like a relic, a work of art she wouldn’t dare damage by letting go, she wouldn’t dishonor in that way. Her skin was so soft, Yujin had always wondered how Wony kept her skin, her hair, her figure, despite her hectic work hours, and, she couldn’t deny, she loved being able to enjoy it, even if it made her cheeks burn with shame sometimes.

Her kisses climbed to Wony’s toes, before her love began to pull her foot away. It rested on Yujin’s shoulder, and began to push her down. She looked up at Wonyoung, smiling down entertained as ever. Yujin had no mind to resist, wouldn’t know how to anymore, she was gone. Her body leaned forward, as if pulled by gravity, Wonyoung’s gravity. The burn in her cheeks felt nicer now. The wine must have been getting to her.

Wonyoung stepped on Yujin’s chain, pulled her down until her head was level with the ground. Yujin, fully bowed, hair falling around her and spreading on the floor, cared less about her embarrassment by the second. When it rained… Kissing one foot, the other moved to pin her head in place, her whole world was down there, the task at hand engulfed her. Wony wanted her degraded, so that’s what she would be.

Her kissing grew louder, more focused. A moan left her, met promptly by a bzzt. From above, Wony sat back, the melody of her cutlery changed tempo, slowing as if satisfied with Yujin’s eagerness. She took her time to enjoy the humiliation she’d brought out of Yujin, before moving to bring out the next,

“Hey puppy, you must be hungry,” she disentangled Yujin from her legs, leaned over holding her plate, dumped some noodles and some salmon on the ground, scraps thrown under the table.

Yujin looked up, looked at the food. She was well past shame at this point, the desire to please was the first thing on her mind. She lowered her head to the food, took it in, getting sauce on her nose, fish grease on her chin, surely draping her hair on something horrible down there. Whatever. Wony would probably find it funnier if she was messy anyway. The salmon was nice, they really should’ve eaten it warm though.

Bzzt, Yujin jumped, a bit of fish still left on the floor. Wony had the little remote in her hand, and a mocking smile on her face.

“You’re so gross,” Wony laughed lovingly. She patted her own lap, “sit, let’s wash that down.”

She began pouring another glass as Yujin got up, knees sore from being on the ground too long. Standing again felt wrong, like she’d lost the right to be a biped after the previous minutes. Thankfully, Wonyoung, sitting wide and relaxed, offered a leg for her to straddle, a safe haven to keep herself degraded.

One leg on either side of Wonyoung’s thigh, she lowered herself, her movements nearly escaping her, all just a little too long, eyes just a little too heavy. She let her head fall on Wony’s shoulder, one hand holding the other shoulder, a quiet, tired moan running through her.

“You good, baby?”

“Yeah-” bzzt. Wonyoung laughed.

Feeling Yujin’s shirt, still wet from wine, cling onto her, Wony stopped pouring the second glass, pushed her back just a little and began undoing her buttons. Her moves were utilitarian, like it had to be done and Yujin was incapable of doing it herself. Be it some leftover claim to human dignity still in her, feeling patronized by Wony’s tone, be it simple dumb desire from a dumb baby who couldn’t think straight, Yujin just had to interject.

A dimply smirk forming, she reached out her hands to cup Wonyoung’s face – so small, so pretty – and fell, dazzled, into a kiss. Her movements were, by then, noticeably sloppy. Their faces slammed together, Wony smiled, Yujin giggled, a bzzt made her jump, they smiled more.

Wonyoung allowed herself to be pulled closer. Her fingers changed pace on Yujin’s buttons, dancing with revived hunger. When Yujin’s shirt fell open, she tugged on its collar, grasping her in their kiss. Even despite the sorry state of Yujin’s mind, it was clear that behind Wony’s formality, she too wanted more with every moment. She wanted Yujin deeper and deeper under her spell.

Led by bewitched strings, Yujin’s muscles flowed heavy. Her head fell back, hair tickling shoulders as Wonyoung slipped the shirt from her arms. She felt herself move back, her whole body pushing down against the thigh she sat on. As Wony pulled her in, her hips rolled closer, then rolled away, closer, away again. Her weight drove her into a lazy rhythm.

Hands wandered her shoulders, her waist, the small of her back. Cold flowed from the half-open window and harassed her skin, a refreshing contrast to the all-encompassing warmth she’d been feeling all night. She huddled closer to Wony, riding her core higher against her thigh, lost her hands amid the folds of her clothes, hid kisses into her neck and her hair and scent.

Wonyoung held Yujin’s waist with one hand, reached past her with the other to finish pouring those glasses. She brought Yujin’s body back, brought a glass to her lips, before Yujin’s fingers wrapped around it and chugged down the wine, no mind to savor what she tasted. She wanted more of what Wony gave her, more of Wony, more of her magic.

She half-flopped backwards to leave the glass on the table, movements as careful as she could muster, before falling back into Wonyoung. Kissing her cheek, her jaw, her pretty pouty lips, waves crashing faster upon her with drunken euphoria, humping her leg like a bitch in heat.

“I lov-” bzzt. She jumped, but the pain didn’t feel bad anymore. The jolt was a discordant tone complementing the harmony Wonyoung crafted. “-e you,” bzzt.

Wony chuckled, drank a little of her own wine, pulled her back into a kiss,

“Get up,” she did, slow and awkward, hands still resting on Wony’s shoulders. Her love’s eyes burned, keeping her warm through the cold breeze. Wony reached behind her, unclasped her bra, kissed her stomach, her ribs, her chest. Yujin felt herself shake, maybe from cold, maybe from giddiness. She couldn’t stay still, she missed the thigh between her legs, she felt her hands move down by themselves. Wony caught the movement and pulled on Yujin’s pants, “off.”

Yujin moved with the finesse of a dying fish, fingers fumbling around the button until it opened, tugging it down blindly. Hands held hers, Wony looked up into her eyes, amused with her state,

“Slow.”

She did what she could, sluggish movements charged with all the energy of the Sun, hands vibrating in nervous joy, a phantom tail wagging wildly.

With much difficulty, she shrugged off the rest of her clothes. Standing there, in Wonyoung’s hands, lips pulling light on her nipples, barely able to muster a coherent thought, night breeze cutting through her, she felt exposed, she could almost feel embarrassed again. She did not. It didn’t matter, she was not herself anymore, she was simply Wonyoung’s.

She was guided back down. Before she saw them, she felt Wony’s fingers, held up from her thigh,

“Fuck yourself on me,” Wonyoung whispered as Yujin eased down, shaking, over her. She didn’t have to ask twice – not that she ever did. Yujin gasped as Wonyoung entered her, body welcoming her, rhythm building again.

Wony leaned back, reached with her other hand to take another sip of wine, let her lips twist slightly with that perfectly crafted, immaculate arrogance, at the girl falling apart on her.

Grabbing at her blouse, Yujin let her head fall again. She couldn’t bear it. She wanted more. More of Wonyoung’s long fingers in her, more of her scent, more of the exposure, more of the state she left her in, she wanted to throw herself to Wonyoung, live and breathe for her,

“More-” bzzt. She wanted more of the pain, too, “more-” bzzt. “Pleas-” bzzt.

Another chuckle bringing out a fruity after taste in Wony’s mouth, she finished her wine. She reached behind the back of Yujin’s neck, fingers intertwining with the base of her hair. Leaning in, she worked a third finger into her.

Yujin whimpered into her mouth. She was pulled closer by the hair. The taste of wine swallowed her whole. When she couldn’t pull away anymore – when she didn’t have it in her to break their kiss – Wonyoung released her hair. Her hand crawled slow down Yujin’s skin, tracing her neck, her ribs, her waist, her thigh, leading Yujin’s pace while she clutched disoriented at Wony’s blouse.

She held on for dear life. Her mouth was lost in Wony’s. At times her tongue poked shyly inside, but her attention was elsewhere. It flowed blurry, drunk on the scent, always slurring back down her body. Wony used one hand to lead her, grinding, into the other’s fingers. Yujin’s pace was desperate now. She felt her leg twitch, her sides. She arched her back into Wony just a little, the twitch climbed all the way to her shoulders. Their kiss was interrupted by a whimper. It was all so much… Another whimper, then another, then more. Wonyoung smiled against her, curled her fingers in her,

“My good girl…” her face was so close, so pretty, her tone so encouraging, “let go for me.”

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzt… Yujin jumped, grasped at Wonyoung’s shoulders, shook her head like that would shake the pins and needles from her neck. Wony pulled her back down, fist wrapped around the little remote. Her fingers pushed deep in her. Wony wanted her to cum in pain, and so the pain felt sweet.

Yujin lost herself. She hugged Wony close, felt her shoulders, her delicate skin, bones, hair, clawed at them for a second, before she stopped herself, she didn’t want to hurt her. She just held her while enjoying her own pain buzzing down her back, her own pleasure crashing from her core.

For a second, her mind was completely empty. No words, no worries, just the feeling of pain and relief and the smell of Wony. The feeling of a job well done – Wony wanted her to be a good girl, and she was. The feeling of being well taken care of.

When Wony let go of the remote, Yujin was light headed, barely able to keep her rhythm. She slowed, grinding still, she wanted to keep this forever. Wonyoung ran a hand through her hair, petting her slowly, scratching behind the ear.

Wony left the remote on the counter, jumping onto bed where Yujin lay exhausted. She went to unlock the clasp on Yujin’s collar, before stopping herself,

“Hmm… one last thing…” a final flash of malice crossed her face, “thank me.”

Yujin looked up, big smiling puppy dog eyes meeting hers, dimples forming deep,

“Tha-” bzzt. “-ank-” bzzt. “-yo-” bzzt. “-u,” bzzt. She could’ve said it in maybe two shocks, but she really had started to like them by now. Her head fell back on the stack of pillows, her brain really was fried.

Wony pursed her lips into a smile,

“Cutie,” she unclasped the collar, and threw it overboard off the bed. Their ship now held just Wony, her pet and their plushies.

“You don’t… want me to…?” Yujin brushed a hand on Wony’s hips.

“Later baby, after you brush your teeth.”

“Ah shit, I must have ruined your pants…” she noticed the spot where she’d sat on Wony’s thigh, still humid.

“Language!” Wony bonked her light on the head, before slipping off her pants and throwing them toward the stars. She jumped into the plush pile, “so anyway, how was your day?”

Wony, long legs bare, pulling the covers to nuzzle against her, threatened to freeze the words in her throat all over again, but she pushed past it. They were past it.

“Honestly, Wony, I don’t know what to say. All I’ve thought about these days was whether you were alright… sometimes you seem so beaten down…” she brushed her bangs from her face, before reaching under the covers to join her hands. “You’re too good to be having these problems, to be this stressed.”

“We’re too good,” she hit Yujin on the shoulder, “but we can handle it.”

It was true. With Wony, she could handle anything.

“If I could tell you how much I love you…”

“You don’t need to,” Wony touched Yujin’s head with hers, “I see it everyday.”

They lay there, enjoying soft pillows and soft covers and their soft love.

“My good girl.”

“No, really, why do you like saying that? I am literally older than you.”

“Because you like to hear it…” Wony opened her eyes quick to plant a kiss on Yujin’s forehead, “dumb ass.”

They fell asleep, aboard their soft ship, cruising through the fairies and the city and the stars.

[journeytothewestresearch]

I'm curious, after the journey, does Wukong still have the headband on his head or it somehow removed?

It disappears upon his enlightenment, likely symbolizing his internalization of self-restraint. He doesn't even realize that it had happened:

... Pilgrim Sun said also to the Tang Monk, "Master, I've become a Buddha now, just like you. It can't be that I still must wear a golden fillet! And you wouldn't want to clamp my head still by reciting that so-called Tight-Fillet Spell, would you? Recite the Loose-Fillet Spell quickly and get it off my head. I'm going to smash it to pieces, so that that so-called Bodhisattva can't use it anymore to play tricks on other people." "Because you were difficult to control previously," said the Tang Monk, "this method had to be used to restrain you. Now that you have become a Buddha, naturally it will be gone. How could it be still on your head? Try touching your head and see." Pilgrim raised his hand and felt along his head, and indeed the fillet had vanished. 孫行者卻又對唐僧道：「師父，此時我已成佛，與你一般，莫成還戴金箍兒，你還念甚麼緊箍咒掯勒我？趁早兒念個鬆箍兒咒，脫下來，打得粉碎，切莫叫那甚麼菩薩再去捉弄他人。」唐僧道：「當時只為你難管，故以此法制之。今已成佛，自然去矣，豈有還在你頭上之理？你試摸摸看。」行者舉手去摸一摸，果然無之。

This is an old photomanipulation of mine showing the moment that the gold headband snaps open. The angry immortal's face gives way to the serene Buddha beneath.

[semisolidmind]

@fattyskeleton

(so the last bad end wukong post was a sort of swap au, i guess? it spawned from a post before it in which mac takes swk's place on the journey protecting the monk, because swk is a bad guy here. like, one of the big bads. like maybe "the buddha wasn't able to catch him at all" kinda bad)

but I really REALLY like your idea here, so

(let's preface with some backstory. summed up, reader and wukong were sorta married? but it was juuuust a little bit against her will? and he kinda forced her to drink an immortality elixir? and macaque, one of wukongs closest friends and a general in his army, becomes closer and befriends reader. wukong isn't cool with that, attacks macaque over it (cool but traumatizing eye scar), mac is determined to get away from wukong and take reader with him. wukong gets even more power, goes crazy, goes up against heaven, gets trapped under a mountain for it.)

reader has (kinda??) gotten used to immortality (not like she had anyone mortal in this world to be sad over), she and macaque have gotten comfortable living together in their little hideaway on a far-off mountain, everything is going okay...there's been no sign of the monkey king since his rampage through heaven. macaque has assured her; he's safely trapped under a sealed mountain, and there's noone dumb enough to remove the seal.

until tripitaka.

the mountain splits in half, the sound echoing across the land. miles away, tending to her garden....

...reader feels a chill down her spine.

(in this timeline guanyin put the golden fillet on wukong immediately cause there's no way this iteration wouldn't try to kill and eat tripitaka on sight. )

so, sometime later, the pilgrims arrive. macaque is stunned, how did he NOT hear them coming? how did he not know?! now his greatest enemy is free and, and– actively helping the tang monk? wukong seems calmer than he remembers, but it's obvious how much he's straining against the leash the monk has him on. the deadly aura radiating off the monkey king is enough to make macaque nauseous. he not-so-subtley places himself in front of reader when he greets the pilgrims. but...it's too late to hide her. if the small intake of breath he draws is any indication, wukong has already noticed her presence.

reader freezes when their eyes meet. no, no, he was supposed to be trapped, he wasn't ever supposed to get out! she sees his pupils dilate, his smile stretch to expose his fangs.

"Peach! Its so good to see you again. I was worried the elixir hadn't worked, but here you are! Beautiful as ever." he gently laughs. he waves off any questions from the other pilgrims. when they ask who reader is to him...his answer is an amused laugh and a sickeningly fond look in her direction.

macaque and reader play the part of good hosts, but they're both incredibly nervous the entire time the pilgrims are in their home. the atmosphere is tense, and macaque doesn't leave readers' side for a second longer than he has to. dinner is a stiff, polite affair, and wukong never takes his eyes off reader. macaque insists the monk and his disciples take his room while he stays with reader. but that doesn't stop the feeling of being watched, or the murderous aura radiating from the opposite side of the house.

neither of them sleep well that night.

the next morning, the monk has macaque help him gather provisions before they move on, distracting him just long enough for wukong to corner reader. he presses her against the side of her home, nuzzling his face against her cheek...

"I'll be back as soon as this little trip is complete, ok, peach? Just sit tight and wait for your king to return~♡"

macaque and reader pack up and move the next day.

—

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 2: Souvenirs

Bearblr Promptober Day 1: Scary Movie

Summary: In which Carmen vents about the demon (memories of Chef Winger (aka Chef David for the uninitiated)) haunting him.

Warnings: Thoughts of self harm, trauma, Chef Winger mentions, nightmares, swearing.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Author DOES NOT want feedback on how accurate of a characterization this is; author is an original works writer and is new to fanfiction, so please be nice. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

01 October 2024

My life is a fucking horror movie.

Fuck the anxiety, the dread, the self-loathing—child’s play. I’ve had that ball and chain since I was an infant. Such is the curse of being a fucking Berzatto; you think you’re born with nothing, so the world takes its taxes in sanity and peace instead.

No, fuck Chef Asshole’s voice emanating from whatever empty, dark corner happened to be on my right in some sick fucking divine prank cooked up by whatever cosmic being that spent eternity laughing at us. Fucking pissants scurrying around on planet Earth like cockroaches with misguided senses of purpose. Fuck Chef David. I didn’t know a kind of asshole could exist that could haunt you while still being alive, but that’s what he was. I would collapse on the couch after closing up the restaurant, hunt for shapes in the shadows cast by peeling paint on the ceiling of my shitty apartment, scour the footage of the day replaying in my mind’s eye for mistakes, for things to get better tomorrow, and then out of nowhere, I’d be back in Empire. Scalp tight because my hair had to be slicked back. Back aching like I had a paring knife stuck between my vertebrae. Aligning a serving of caviar, calling for hands, placing a fillet of salmon, calling for hands, no, chef, the sauce is broken again, calling for hands—and the Devil’s voice would always appear. I’d had the nightmare enough times to know it was a nightmare now, yet I watched my own hands go through machinations without my input, I willed against all odds that this time, I’d wake up before the Devil told me I should be dead, but that would be mercy on the part of the world, wouldn’t it?

I’m fucking stunned.

I made you great.

He made me great, did he? You made me great, huh?

I’m fucking stunned.

Sometimes I caught the voice when I was wide awake, and it would tilt my world. Sometimes I heard the Devil coming, only to spin around and see Claire or Sydney or Marcus or Tina instead. He was everywhere. He walked in my shadow, ate at my table, slept in my bed at night. What kind of exorcism do I need to rid this fuck? Do I put salt in a circle around me? Sometimes I wish the Devil would put that paring knife in my spine already so I could stop waiting for it to appear. Fucking slice me open, tear back the bones and sinew, look at the damage you did to me, look at what you left of me, take some more to add to your souvenirs, why don’t you? Can you rip out the parts of my brain that won’t forget you exist while you’re at it?

[icarusredwings]

Silence

He was SO wrong.

Chapter 2.

Goodbye, my Canadian Swetheart.

Cw: Kidnapping, Straight up torture, Various cruel and unusual punishments, Descriptions of pain and wounds, Angst, Loss of healing factor, loss of voice, guilt, insecurity, crying, hostage situation.

Everything hurts.

Except.. It was a different type of pain. The kind he wasn't used to. Yeah, he's been used to the hilt and left out to dry in his own puddle of his blood before, but he laughed and spit out his own tooth that day. His large intestines hanging out of his body, soaking in the dirty rain like a fucked up steak marinade only to fillet the asshole who dared touch him without a safe word.

But not today. He wasn't healing today... or.. yesterday? What day was it? How long has he been here? Either way, his cells were on strike, holding up microscopic signs with ‘Hey ho we won't go!’ written on them.

A small snort came from his nose, the tiniest smile at the thought. You could torture him yeah but the only thing you're going to do is make him more crazy. Even he knew that. Hell! Everyone knew that!

So what was he trying to accomplish? I mean really, how much more fucked up could he make him?

He couldn't see much. The light above him is off the majority of the time, leaving him in complete darkness but never silence, the screams coming through the wall acting as white noise by now. But at the moment? It was on, swinging from the upstairs movement.

While he wasn't 100% sure? He thought the musty, mildew covered walls and how cold his toes were meant he was in a basement. How many flight's down? A million for all he knew. He had no clue how he even got here.

So now, as he sits, strapped and chained to the chair (that was bolted to the floor by the way) he is staring at the blank wall, studying each crack, wondering where each one came from.

They reminded him of the veins that came out of Logan's arms when he was really pissed off and red with anger. He found himself thinking about Logan a lot down here, his body heavy and his neck throbbing from the collars around it. The fucks had double collared him, keeping him tame and well behaved.

So what else was he supposed to do? Call out in hopes someone would slip from their training and come give him an opportunity to escape? But the top collar was too tight, two holes burned in the side of his neck from all the shocking with each noise he made louder than a whisper. Even a cough set it off.

He wondered, if he could speak now, would Logan come to him? Would he even hear him? Would he spare some time if he called? To come rescue his pathetic ass yet again?

Wade knew Logan loved him deep down, but he wondered if Logan even knew he was missing by now.. did he even care? Why SHOULD he care honestly? He was smart enough to know that Mr. Howlett was probably on the couch right now, unexpectedly waiting for him to come home…

And Honestly? He didn't blame him not one bit if he became buried deep in his memory, something that won't spark his attention until it's far too late.

He wondered- Would anyone come to his funeral? Would they even be able to find the body? Would Logan tell their friends about him? All the sweet gentle touches they shared? Each little date and stupid joke? Would he tell them the truth? Or would he lie and tell them how he saw him instead of how Wade saw himself..

He wondered if he could see the burning hole inside of him, that determination to keep himself from falling apart, how hard he was trying to be the best Deadpool for him.

Trying to prove to the world that he wasn't someone to wave a stick at, that he was a top notch hero just like the rest of them.. Could Logan see that?

Sure, the merc work paid well but what it did to his heart wasn't pretty. His morals have always been flexible. Too flexible.

Wade wanted to be a good person. It's why he listened to the stupid X-men to begin with. Stupid fucking virgin Colossus. Why did he have to go and make him feel like he was worth something? Like that 4 to 5 moments bullshit would actually work out in his favor?

He raised his hopes for nothing. Made him think that he too could be a hero that crowds cheered for when they saw him and kids would point him out and go “GASP!! Mommy it's Deadpool!” and he'd go “Damn right kid! Stay in school or.. whatever.”

Before kicking some major ass in front of them, to further prove just how cool he truly was. This was the only idea that was keeping him together at the seams.

To impress The Wolverine. HIS wolverine. To show him that he deserved to be on the team. One that's well respected and the government has no choice but to call HIM for help. Just a guy with regenerative cancer who really liked guns.

Well… now the ladder was only true but still. His point stood. Unlike him, whose legs were dull and numb from sitting so long in this piss scented concrete singular cell.

Tears came to his eyes as a terrible thought crossed his mind. How would he see him as a good hero if he would never see him again?

Now, he sits here, wondering about him.

He wished he could tell him what to do. Logan was good at this kind of thing. He was good at keeping calm and telling him what to do when he felt like this, when his body betrayed him with such unbearable pain. He would hold him and kiss him, tell him everything would be alright and somehow it always was.

Logan always made everything alright.

Logan has worked so hard to teach him how much he loved him, show him how to water it until it grew. And with just a bit of water and TLC, His rosey heart turned into something incredibly beautiful that he could hold in the palm of his big calloused hands once it blossomed.

Even with all its thorns, there was nobody better than him that he wanted to spend his (apparently) no longer eternal life with. Tears sting his dehydrated dry eyes as they drip down his cheeks, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, wishing this was all just a dream. But still he had the same request..

If only he could see Logan’s face again before he died… he'd be happy..

The heavy metal door opens, Sending just enough excitement through his body to sit his head up, looking at the man who was slowly walking towards him. Was he wrong?! Did he doubt him too much? Has he come to rescue him princess style and blow this place to smithereens while walking away in slow motion?

All he knew? There was only one other man that he wanted to see right now..

‘..Logan?’

[starsfic]

Prompt, Tang Sanzang coming down from Western Heaven to warn Sun Wukong that his student needs to get his act together or The Buddha will do something about it

"I'm sorry." The hand, once so gently holding his, was suddenly squeezing tight. Tang Sanzang felt a yelp rise up, but just as soon as his voice rose it died, staring up into his former student's furious eyes. "I must've misheard you."

"You...you didn't- ah!" He could audibly hear his bones creak. "Disciple, disciple, let me go-"

"You see, I've just spoken with Guanyin." The words made Sanzang's blood freeze. Sun Wukong had...what? "You know, because my student was so worried about being just like me, he wanted assurance. Apparently, people have been talking about him."

"I know. I heard the whispers. I want to help you help him, just like I-" A shot of pain sent him to his knees, but Wukong didn't let go. Those ruby eyes stared down at him, lacking no warmth despite their color. "He's chaos, he's a-"

The pain grew to a dagger. "Shut up and let me finish." Wukong's voice evened out. "According to the Buddha, Xiaotian's been trying his best. He's doing the best he can. He can't ask for more, he knows that. Xiaotian doesn't need a fucking fillet."

But..."It worked for you. It worked-"

"As a matter of fact, it didn't. It just made me terrified of stepping out of line." Wukong's voice grew cold again. "You tried your best, but you were a shitty teacher. I'm trying to not be like you, I'm trying not to hurt the best person I've ever met-" And that hurt worse than Wukong's fingers, digging into his wrists hard enough that he was surprised that they weren't broken yet. "And you have the gall to make the call on your own?"

Sanzang wanted to protest, wanted to...

Wukong let him go.

The monk gasped, gripping onto himself, feeling his wrists throb. There was the crunch of sand as the monkey stepped back. "Get the fuck off my mountain, Sanzang. I better not see your face until you apologize to Qi Xiaotian." He turned, leaving him there. And that just added to the pain. "Although, knowing you, I don't think sorry is in your vocab."

And then he was gone.

[digitaldoeslmk]

I find it interesting that MK basically has to learn the opposite lesson his mentor did when it comes to violence. from what I understand swk slowly learned that not all conflicts had to be solved with bloodshed. and MK has to find peace with the fact that not all conflicts can be solved peacefully. People minds can't always be changed, not every villain is broken/misunderstood/misguided, and sometimes people are just pure evil. its no wonder his mental health is unstable, and i'm sure swk isn't thrilled seeing this sweet kid have to struggle so much with it.

yes!!!! yes you got it!!!!! :D

on a deep level too, JTTW has a running theme that the more violent one's response to a crime, the more violent is the reprisal for that response if it fails. the whole arc of the Havoc in Heaven is about a monkey and yaoguai warlord being thrown into an environment he wasn't equipped or prepared to handle the expectations of, and that punishing him instead of properly preparing him for his role has consequences. also you can interpret it in a symbolic way: as Wukong is the Mind Monkey, the restless and unrestrained human mind, you can't punish yourself into becoming better, you must stop, learn, and understand your situation before moving forward. otherwise what you get is just, a mess spiritually and mentally.

meanwhile, MK was brought up in a very loving and understanding environment. yes, the show portrays his friends and family (Pigsy and Tang are his dads, you cannot change my mind) as far from perfect, but they are altogether a circle that loves and supports each other even through their mistakes, and it's their flaws that makes them stronger. however, in esoteric Buddhism there's the concept of a ruthless compassion, in that sometimes you need a heavy hand to stir people towards the right path; in this article my friend JTTWR shares how even Wukong's golden fillet is a display of that concept.

and yes, an understanding and kind approach can take you very far; in my au, MK manages to befriend and help turn around most of the enemies he encounters, not unlike the show! but sometimes, that's not enough, and sometimes, it only makes things worse and drags you down with them. sometimes, violence is a valid and even necessary answer for the good of the majority.

as for Wukong... as a bodhisattva, he knows that suffering is necessary for learning and that he can't shield MK from everything. one must face adversity to learn to overcome it. but as a grandpa himself, he's not keen on the suffering of beings, much less those close to him. he can offer an ear to MK's vents, a shoulder to cry on, a hug, a joke, a few matches of games to take his mind off things. MK needs to learn these harsh lessons, but Wukong's not letting him do it by himself.

[loyaltykask]

Chapter 56

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

I like how Sanzang is usually the first to tell if there is a demon is near and Wukong doesn't listen and in other cased Wukong KNOWS when a demon is in front of him and Sanzang doesn't listen

Like talk about irony. Wukong gave all his monkeys this power damn

I like how Sanzang is so scared for these bandits as well he like 'please I have a disciple that can and will kill you, just let me go'

Wukong thinks he is funny and he is right

Sanzang only remembers later like "FUCK I LEFT THE MONKEY"

THIS IS NOT TIME FOR YOU TO BE SMART

This is why you keep getting sued. I know Wukong always saying he kills for Sanzang but also… he doesn't HAVE to?! Like any time he kills humans it's like a cat playing with mice, he is toying with them as they die and he just takes so much amusement out of it sometimes he wants to say it cause they deserve to die but also he knows he could spare them. It is always a choice for someone that powerful

OOF

Sanzang be begging these people to please house them

I actually like it when Sanznag throws shade, its funny to me

These three I swear

Wukong offering to kill someone's son is not a way to bond or say thank you

What mattered was that he tried

Hmmm maybe showing the decapitated head… wasn't the best idea tbh. Reminds me of a cat showing a dead mouse to show off. Like well-meaning, but… not needed please

So it's been about 4 to 5 years since he used the tight fillet spell Last time I think he used it like 40 times. He used it 10 more times to kill Yang so that is up to 50

;_;

It’s more like he uses it a lot in a single day and then doesn’t touch it for years. Like the huge gaps of time, where he never does the spell. Hell, if I remember correctly, this may be the last time he ever uses the spell. The next seven years I don’t re-call him using it once

I think a lot of people don’t realize how long the journey takes and how big gaps in time there are. Like I just got to the six-eared macaque arc and it looks like it might be eight or nine years into the journey. But overall yeah it really might be the last time. It kind of shows how he uses the fillet spell, in the beginning, a lot, but throughout time that kind of trust and bone grows where he realizes that he not only doesn’t need to use it but shouldn’t use it either I’m surprised he didn’t use it the second he saw Wukong kill it to bandits, and said, just normally reprimanding him. He didn’t even threaten him with the spell… until he came with the beheaded bandit… which I will admit, was unexpected

I like to think that this case Sanzang really wants Wukong to see for himself that life is valued and that he shouldn’t go around killing people just because he knows he can. And it makes it very clear that at this point he’s upset at Wukong for one, for not listening to him, and for saying that he was responsible as well for these people's deaths. I kind of shows like why he got upset and while I don’t think he should have sent Wukong away due to that anger it makes an interesting argument to think that every mistake and every person Wukong kills Sanzang feels responsible for it, because he is the master. And maybe a part of it feels like he can’t be a good Master to Wukong because he still goes around killing and that he blames himself as well

[pompomqt]

Journey to the West Chapter 57

In this chapter of Journey to the West with @journeythroughjourneytothewest we get to see how Tripitaka and Sun Wukong's second break up is going. So let's get into it shall we?

Last we left off, Monkey had made himself scarce after his fight with Tripitaka. However he doesn't really know where to go, or what to do now. If he returns to Flower Fruit mountain now, it will be in disgrace. And the same goes for hanging out with other immortals or in the celestial realm. Finally he decides that his only real option is to try once again to beg Tripitaka to take him back.

So Monkey returns to Tripitaka and begs him to take him back as a disciple, and promises to not do violence in the future. However Tripitaka's only response is to once again start reciting the tight fillet spell again, another twenty times. After he's done, Monkey tries to reason with him that he won't be able to reach the West by himself, because, let's face it, Sandy, Pigsy and the Horse really are just 'chopped liver' here... Tripitaka however says that whether or not he reaches the west is no longer Monkey's concern, and insists that he does not want him anymore. Once Tripitaka threatens to use the fillet again, Monkey is left with no other choice but to once again take his leave.

This time however, Monkey does have an idea on where he can go- the same place he goes every time he runs into problems, Guanyin's place. Once he gets there he is greeted by Moksa and Red Son, who ask what business he has with Guanyin. Monkey says he's here to tattle on someone to Guanyin, and when Red Son tries to joke around a little with Monkey, Monkey snaps and goes off on him, since he's really not in the mood right now.

Anyways Monkey is finally able to meet with Guanyin, and breaks down into tears, while he explains everything to her. Guanyin listens patiently to his explanation and tells him that he was indeed in the wrong for beating those bandits to death, especially since he easily could have just scared them off instead. Monkey agrees but still thinks he should have been given another chance to atone rather then be banished outright like this.

After that Monkey asks Guanyin if she can recite the loose fillet spell, so he can give the fillet back to her so he can go back home to Flower Fruit Mountain. After she explains that the fillet was given to her by the Buddha and that she doesn't know of any way to remove it, Monkey gets up to leave. He tells Guanyin that he'll go directly to the Buddha instead and ask him to remove it. Guanyin however asks him to wait for a moment while she scans Tripitaka's fortune. His fortune reveals that since it's a day of the week ending in a 'Y', Tripitaka will soon face another calamity, and will need his help with it. At which time Guanyin will make sure that Tripitaka takes him back as a disciple. And with that we leave Guanyin and Wukong for the moment while we check back in on Tripitaka.

Tripitaka is traveling along with his other disciples until he gets hungry and thirsty. And since he apparently hasn't learned his lesson from the last time he had Pigsy fetch him water, he sends Pigsy out to fetch him some. After waiting for such a long time that Tripitaka even takes the time to compose a poem about how thirsty he is, Sandy finally decides to go after Pigsy to see what's taking him so long. Tripitaka tearfully allows him to go, leaving him with only the horse for protection.

He's not alone for long however, for who does he see but 'Sun Wukong' kneeling on the side of the road offering him a bowl of refreshing water. 'Sun Wukong' asks him to take it, and then he'll go and fetch some food for him as well. Tripitaka however refuses, saying he'd rather die of thirst on the spot then take it from him. When 'Sun Wukong' once again insists that he can't make it to the West without his help, Tripitaka once again says that's none of his business and tells him to leave. This enrages 'Sun Wukong' who throws out the water and strikes Tripitaka with his rod knocking him unconscious. After that, 'Sun Wukong' takes their belongings and takes his leave. On that cliffhanger it's time to see what's taking Pigsy so long.

Pigsy has managed to find a human residence, and has even transformed himself into a passable human monk to make begging easier. He's able to get some food by passing himself off as a sickly human, and just as he acquires the food, Sandy arrives to find out what's taking him so long. Pigsy shows off the food, but Sandy says that water is the bigger priority at the moment and they only have the one bowl. Eventually they settle on Sandy carrying the food in his robes while Pigsy uses the bowl for water, that settled the two return to Tripitaka. Only to find him seemingly dead. Pigsy and Sandy panic, and while Pigsy curses out the bandits that probably caught up to them to kill him, Sandy just wails and cradles Tripitaka's body while Pigsy plans the funeral.

Luckily before they can bury him alive or something, Sandy is finally clued in on the fact that Tripitaka isn't dead, just unconscious. Once Tripitaka wakes up, cursing Monkey as he does so, he explains what happened to Sandy and Pigsy. The enraged Pigsy is all for going after Monkey in order to get their stuff back, but Sandy reasons that they should probably make sure Tripitaka is taken care of first. Since leaving him alone on the side of the road didn't turn out so well last time.

So after they settle Tripitaka into the house they found earlier, they decide on which one of them should go after Monkey. Pigsy still wants to be the one to go, since he's already been to Flower Fruit Mountain before and knows the way. Tripitaka however worries that since Pigsy and Monkey have trouble getting alone even during the best of times, that if Pigsy mouths off to Monkey, Monkey might attack him to. So they settle on sending Sandy who has better manners. Tripitaka tells him that if Monkey is willing to give their stuff back then great, if he refuses however, Sandy shouldn't try and fight him, and instead should go straight to Guanyin.

With that said, Sandy takes off for Flower Fruit Mountain. As Sandy begins to approach the cave he begins to hear 'Monkey' reading what sounds like their travel script aloud. Eventually Sandy interrupts asking him what he's doing, however 'Monkey' just immediately orders his minions to seize him, and has Sandy brought before him. Sandy tries to negotiate with 'Monkey', asking him to return their belongings so they can all go West together or at the very least return their stuff while he stays here. 'Monkey' however says that he didn't strike Tripitaka and take their stuff because he didn't want to go to the West. He did it because he'll need the supplies for his own Journey to the West. Once he retrieves the scriptures from the Buddha and delivers them to the East, he'll be the hero, and get all the credit.

Sandy tries to explain that his plan could never work. This whole journey isn't even about getting the scriptures, not really. It's a way for Tripitaka, the Golden Cicada, to go through trials to redeem himself. So Buddha would never hand the scriptures over to just 'Sun Wukong' by himself. 'Monkey' however isn't an idiot, of course he knows that he can't do it without a scripture pilgrim, luckily he already has one of his own. After saying that, Monkey shows Sandy, perfect clones of Tripitaka, Sandy, Pigsy and the horse.

Sandy isn't to happy to see his apparent replacement and attacks it, managing to kill it in one blow. Only to find that the clone was apparently one of the monkey's of Flower Fruit Mountain in disguise. 'Monkey' is also enraged by this and orders the other monkeys to attack, leaving Sandy to fight his way out. Luckily Monkey can't be bothered to actually give chase to Sandy once he escapes, instead, he orders to have the dead monkey skinned and fried so they can eat it later, and just has another monkey transform into Sandy.

Sandy meanwhile has resolved to go to Guanyin about this. So Sandy arrives at Guanyin's place and is greeted by Moksa who asks why he's here, despite already knowing he's probably here about the whole Monkey situation. So Moksa announces to Guanyin, and coincidentally Sun Wukong since he is also here, that Sandy wants an audience. Monkey chuckles at this figuring that the calamity that Guanyin mentioned earlier must have finally arrived. So Guanyin calls Sandy in, however as soon as Sandy see's Monkey he tries to attack him with his weapon. Which Monkey takes surprisingly well, by just dodging the attacks and not fighting back while Sandy yells insults to his face.

Guayin breaks up the fight and asks Sandy to explain himself. So Sandy explains the whole story to Guanyin, who says that it can't be possible for Monkey to have done all of that. He's been here with her for the whole time, and she's been keeping a close eye on him. Sandy however insists that he's telling the truth. So Guanyin suggests that he take Wukong with him back to Flower Fruit Mountain to see what's really going on. So with that Sandy and Monkey leave together to see what the situation is back in Flower Fruit Mountain.

Current Sun Wukong Stats: Names/Titles: Monkey, The Stone Monkey, The Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong (Monkey awakened to the void), Bimawen (Banhorseplague), The Great Sage Equal To Heaven and Pilgrim Sun. Immortality: 5 + 94,000 years Weapon: The Compliant Golden Hooped Rod Abilities: 72 Transformations, Cloud-Somersault, Ability to transform his individual hairs, super strength, Ability to Summon Wind, Water restriction charm, and the ability to change into a huge war form, ability to duplicate his staff, ability to immobilize others, the ability to put others to sleep, and the Fiery eyes and Diamond Pupils, intimidating horses, churning large bodies of water, sleeplessness, seizing the wind, enhanced smell, discerning good and evil within a thousand miles, Spirit Summoning, lock picking, object transformation, distance reduction, vanishing in a flash of light, super healing, transforming others, and Invisibility Demon Kill Count: 9+ Unknown Number of Minions Human Kill Count: 1039 God's Defeated: 23 + Unknown number Defeats: 7 Crime List: Robbery, Murder, Mass Murder, Arson, Theft, Coercion, Threatening a Government Official, Resisting Arrest, Assault, Forgery, Employee Theft, False Imprisonment, Impersonating a Government Official, Treason, attempted murder, failure to control or report a dangerous fire, desecrating a corpse, breaking and entering, trespassing, violating Tree Law, looting corpses, trading counterfeit goods, criminal threat, animal abuse, Assisting or Instigating Escape, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption and Identity Fraud. Cry Count: 9 + 3 fake cries Mountains Trapped Under: 4

Current Tang Sanzang stats: Names/Titles: River Float, Xuanzang, Tang Sanzang, Tripitaka and the Tang Monk Abilities: Curing Blindness, making branches point a certain direction (allegedly), reciting sutras, pretty privilege, memorization, Heart Sutra and Meditation. Cry Count: 30 Tight Fillet Spell Uses: 62 Paralyzed by fear: 6 Bandit Problems: 3 Kidnapped by demons: 9 Falling Off Horses: 10

Current Bai Long Ma Stats: Names/Titles: Bai Long Ma (White Dragon Horse), Prince of the Western Ocean, and third prince jade dragon of the dragon king Aorun Abilities: Transforming into a human, a water snake, and a horse, eating a horse in one bite, flight, Magic of Water Restriction, Singing, and Sword Dancing. Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Arson, and Grave Disobedience. Contributions to the plot: 3 Kidnapped by demons: 1

Current Zhu Wuneng Stats: Names/Titles: The Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, Zhu Wuneng (Pig who is aware of ability), Zhu Ganglie, Pigsy, Idiot and Eight Rules. Weapon: Rake Abilities: 36 Transformations, parting water, fighting underwater, cloud soaring, size enhancement and CPR Demon Kill Count/Kill steals: 3 Kidnapped by Demons: 4 Human Kill Count: 1 Failed Flirtation/romances Attempts: 4 Cry Count: 2 Crime List: Sexual Harassment, Murder, Kidnapping, arson, defamation, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption, Identity Fraud, Theft and Forcible entry

Current Sha Wujing Stats: Names/Titles: The Curtain-Raising General, Sha Wujing (Sand Aware of Purity), Sandy and Sha Monk Weapon: Monster Taming Staff Abilities: Fighting underwater, Cloud soaring, and fetching water from a well. Demon Kill Count: 1 + Unknown number of minions. Kidnapped by Demons: 3 Human Kill Count: 1 Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Breaking a Crystal Cup, murder, desecration of a human corpse, Damage to Religious Property and contaminating a substance for human consumption