#I feel like I could polish and spiff it a bit more but if I did I’m afraid I would end up with 20 pages instead of the 16 this is

[hcdragonwrites]

Too Close ( A @jttw-monkeybusiness Fanfic)

So this started as one thing and then It grew its own will and became another. I hope you enjoy!

TW: Blood and Gore- Violence as well. If these make you squeamish or can trigger you please read my other works instead!

It was supposed to just be a meal- a simple outing to the market square to buy up some noodles at a shop stand Pigsy had seen on the way through. It was supposed to be simple, easy day.

The market stall exploded in a shower of wood and porcelain as the monstrous thing rose from the stand. Sophie rolled, dodging the flying debris as best she could. A sliver of wood cut across her cheek but she felt nothing. Her mind only had one thing in it.

Oh shit that’s a massive snake.

But it wasn’t a snake. The head that toward from the market as the rest of the villagers fled, resembled a snake. It’s slitted eyes blinked and forked tongue tasted the air. Heat rippled outward from its body. The grasses dried in the damn soil. The earth that had moments ago been anointed with summer rain, cracked and snapped brittle in the sudden heat. Sophie felt her lips dry and her face chap in the change of temperature.

A grunt from nearby. Sophie turned to see Sandy rise from a cast off wall, a huddle Tripitaka in his arms. The snake head swayed, tongue tasting. It snapped its focus to Sandy and coiled its head back. A maw of pink and long silver teeth flew forward. The disciple threw up the discarded wall just in time for the things great teeth to be buried into wood instead of Flesh. Trip was no fool and at Sandy’s nod, escaped beneath his arm.

Sophie could hear Pigsy howling curses nearby from somewhere. The dust was still settling, the dried earth kicked upward as more of the things body was revealed. Fuck it had wings. Four black leathery wings grew from its back at disjointed angles. They beat unevenly. Their wind threw dirt and rocks into the air. The feel of it stung Sophie’s cheek. The Monk reached her then- hand outstretched. She caught it and he hauled her up off the dirt.

Run. Her heart seemed to thrash in her chest. Sophie saw more of the beast being revealed from the ruins of the market. An impossibly long coiled body- legs- more clawed legs. Six of them?- juxtaposed throughout its flesh at odd angles. She felt like she was moving too slow. Moving as if her blood was full of ice.

Those eyes blinked and the pupil widened. Sandy held the things face in his hands, the wooden wall king destroyed. The River demon strained as the thing bore down on him, all saliva and flashing fangs.

It could swallow him whole. Sophie felt a cold shiver run down her back as Trip and her fled. There was nothing either of them could do. They were mortals. This thing was beyond their ken. Beyond their ability. And it could swallow us whole.

Of course fleeing targets attract more attention then prey standing still. The great demonic beast of droughts shook off the irritable ant holding its fangs and dipped its head. The scent had been with the little thing before it but … it had moved. It smelled delectable. The tongue whipped out again, seeking. There- among the fleeing mortals this monster had disdainfully had been serving for the past years in hopes of devouring in return- was the taste. It was a man- a man hand in hand with a women. Two for the price of one. There was an irritable pain at its side but the Drought Bringer simply flicked one of its long claws and flapped its wings higher.

Into the air it rose- away from the sting of the weapons. The town with its simple huts and mud wall fell away. The demon rose up and angled itself. Heat radiated off, burring away the cloud cover and killing trees and greens all around it.

The monk would not get too far.

It coiled.

And struck out.

Sophie and Tripitaka were almost beyond the wall and into the rice fields. The heat had dried those up, killing crops and scattering the water into vapour. Villagers- merchants and Mothers, field workers and Fathers- all streamed to the exits.

They were almost out.

Sophie felt a prickle of fear, a new wave of apprehension swell in her mind. For what- for why- she didn’t know. What made Sophie turn her head then, to look back, she would never know. But she was glad for whatever spirit, god, or instinct made her look back.

A maw full of silvered fangs, of needle tips curved back and outward. An avalanche of heat and horror. She reacted and threw herself sideways. Tripataka, still holding her hand, was dragged with her.

The serpent struck the earth, sending an earthquake outward. Buildings shivered and collapsed. Children screamed and mothers called out. Sophie pulled the monk up beside her, trying to get him to rise. They didn’t have much time. She had bought them but a moment, but a second. They had to move had to get the fuck out of there.

“Trip get up-“ Sophie begged. The monk was trying- it looked like he had twisted something in his leg at the sudden fall. Up up up up up up get up please.

A angry hiss as the earth cracked more. The demon raised its head. It’s mouth was full of stone and dirt. And a few dangling limbs. The creature dropped these and angled it’s head again. It’s body coiled, it’s clawed and displaced legs curling.

Their second was up.

Sophie couldn’t look away- she wanted to- but it was the same feeling a rabbit, over exhausted and run down, experiences when cornered by a fox. The sense of frozen dread. She could no more look away then the rabbit could overcome its fear.

Of course the human mind is a strange thing for the only thing that Sophie could think on was, We didn’t even get to eat the damn noodles we paid for.

Something flashed, a glitter a bit above the serpents head. Like the flash of a moth wing in moonlight.

Wha—

A pillar of black and gold materialized where the flash had been. Such a small insignificant staff.

Sophie knew that staff.

The staff elongated over the monsters head. It slammed straight into the back of the snakes skull. The sound of iron against bone rang in the sky like a thunderclap. The demon cried in confusion and pain- an unholy scream that sent the air to shaking. The staff drove the things face down into the soil, just feet away from Sophie and Tripataka. Bones snapped, the sound of scale cracking beneath the iron rod as it drove down, down, down, down. The earth cracked with the impact.

The pressure was too great. The hide split as the earth could not give anymore and blood came in a spray of red.

The demon, the great Drought Bringer, rolled a bloodshot eye upward. A iron rod ? Was that what fell it ? Something so insignificant. A shadow loomed from the sunlight. Feet pressed on the demons head.

The demon knew this creature - this mild looking and bored Monkey- and felt the contents of its stomach turn to water. Those eyes slashed downward, making the serpent flinch.

The burning heat in this demons gaze—

Sun Wukong knelt on the dying beasts skull the iron staff of Ruyi Jingu Bang resting across one shoulder. Those yellow eyes went from flaming to disinterested as the demonic monkey looked at the mortals.

“I told you the market was a bad idea.”

The blond haired women who had avoided the great Drought Bringers strike, shot up on her legs from the rubble.

“ARE you SERIOUS?!”

“I am. I told you all it was a bad idea.”

“You couldn’t have said that there was a demonic flying snake?!?”

“Do you think the bastard pig would have listened to me if I had ?” Wukong huffed. He swung a foot languidly off the side of the serpents skull. Wukong tapped the golden circlet on his brow. “I would have gotten another headache by this dumb band.”

“WUKONG A WHOLE TOWN WAS DESTROYED!”

“Bah.” He waved his hand at that. “It was gonna be destroyed. This beast wouldn’t have waited any longer to eat again.”

The foot pressed into the gore in the back of the demons spine and a half gasp, half cough, of pain exhaled from between broken jaws. The serpent didn’t remove its eye from the Demon king above it.

It had heard stories. Legends of five hundred years ago when it had been but a hatchling, of a monkey of stone waging war against Heaven. Of almost succeeding in bending that great power into a kowtow.

“WUKONG WE ALMOST GOT SWALLOWED WHOLE BY A FUCKING BIG ASS SNAKE.” Sophie retorted.

“Naw. I had it all under control.” Wukong tapped the edge of his staff now onto the creatures head.

“Though it is taking awhile to die…”

The serpent felt the monkey lean forward. The burning gaze was back now that the simian wasn’t staring at the women.

“Tougher than I thought you were.” His voice had become softer. “Survive a blow - even to just bleed out like a bloody hog- is no easy feat with my staff.”

The pressure from his clawed feet pricked the broken scales long the serpents skin. Those claws were drawing blood. The monkey leaned down to whisper almost sweetly.

“You never were going to get your fangs into them you disgusting worm. Wanna know why? Because I’m Sun Wukong. I am the Great Sage. And your Tale-” the weight of the monkey felt oppressive, his claws digging harder into the tender broken scales. “-your insignificant little blip in history is at an end.”

The monkey foot was the last thing the serpent, the Feiwei, saw before the staff was driven down again into its eye. The blindness as the pupil exploded under the contact and the sharp pain as the staff drove through the eye socket and into the recesses of the skull were the serpents last feelings.

Demonic minds were not like mortals. They did not flit between two threads of disconjointed emotions. The Feiwei knew it’s end and bitterly died.

The demon gave a final strangled gasp as it twitched once, twice and then was no more. The remaining demons eye rolled in its head. Crimson blood wept from the exposed eye socket and the broken skull. It mixed with the dirt to make a black patch in the soil. At the serpents death the air stopped its dry repression and eased in its intense heat.

Wukong stepped off lightly from the dead serpents head. His feet crossed through the bloody wake and up to Sophie who still stood, a bit dumbfounded, over Tripataka.

That was brutal. Sophie thought.

Then her body remembered itself and her stomach seized at the scent of demon blood. Bile burned up the back of her throat.

Please please please don’t throw up. That was the last thing she needed. Sophie pulled Tripataka up.

The monk hissed and winced as his weight tried to take his foot. And crumpled.

“Is it broken?” Sophie worried. She didn’t see any tears in the skin- any blood. Blood.

Again she fought a wave of nausea. The back of the demons neck had been cut wide open- almost as if obliterated- by a single strike. The trauma of the loss of so much bodily mass to a central location, the skull, had been enough to kill it but it had lived on. Just long enough for Wukong to stab it in the eye.

“Not … not broken. Just sprained.” Trip smiled, sweat building on his brow. “Sophie .. thank —“

Tripatakas words died on his throat as he disciple came into full view. And he blanched.

“Stupid beast.” Wukong picked his claws, flicking some of the blood free from their tips. The stone monkey was absolutely painted in crimson, having delivered the blow and standing behind the beast as it fell. Dark ichor dripped from the side of his face, matting the fur in places that the blood was thickest in.

“See Master ?” Wukong grinned- not helping the two mortals as they both struggled with their aversions: Tripataka for violence and Sophie for blood.

“I almost died ….” Trip muttered, the shock coming over him then.

“There there Trip.” Sophie soothed - but she sounded wooden as she also felt her stomach heave. Gods and spirits the blood stank.

“Why does everything bad happen to me?”

“It’s ok Trip.”

“Why is it always devouring they try and accomplish?! Buddha it’s breath stank of rot.”

“Most human eating demons don’t have pretty breath.”

Wukong, oblivious or willfully blind to the mortal dilemmas unfolding before him, swaggered closer.

“Well! That’s another monstrosity down. Solved with violence.” Wukong barred his teeth. His mood was improved from when they had first arrived and none had taken his warning seriously. Not even Sophie. That was an insult. She was lulled in by Pigsy who kept regaling all with the tales of this unique little village.

Utter drivel. Wukong had seen real food wonders- Hell he came from the most fruitful mountain in the world! What could some boiled water and limp noodles compare to the tastes of flower fruit mountain?

Wukong turned, leaning against his staff as he rested it against the ground. “Sophie did ya see that ?”

“Yes.” Her voice was tight as she watched the blood drip off Wukong.

“You didn’t throw up?” He inquired with a flash of teeth.

“… no I didn’t.” Her stomach kept trying to make her mouth open up but Sophie was stronger then that.

“HA! Soft women don’t lie! You look just as pale as when that thing was diving at you!” Wukong laughed, his tail twitching in humor. “How would either of you get by without me?”

“Wukong maybe nows not the time—“ Sophie tried but was brushed over as Wukong puffed his chest up and grinned all the wider.

“I, the great Sun Wukong have saved my master again. Did I not do a great job dispatching the beast for you master ?” It was half mock, half fishing for compliments. He did just slay a demonic multi limbed serpent out of the sky.

“Wukong…”

“Not even praise ?!” Well that was dreadfully disappointing. He expected some sort of good job from the monk.

Sophie wanted to roll her eyes. Can’t he read the room?

“Wukong you did a fantastic job!” Sophie would try and smooth things over. While also not suffering from her flipping stomach. “Amazing. It’s just the — the blood— it stinks. Worse then normal. —“

“I know you are thankful because you have decent sense but I want to hear it from him!”

At this moment Tripataka stood straight suddenly. He calmly limped to one of the bushes. And promptly vomited.

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

Wukong huffed, irritable even in the hot springs warmth. He had a bucket in one hand and a washboard in the other, and had scrubbed the blood free of his clothes. Pants, shirt, tiger skin- it all had to be washed. Of course Wukong had pilfered some soap awhile back from the Market square the Pilgrims had passed through. He had set to work, scrubbing and pulling and worrying over the clothing until it was clean. He knew he had to clean it. He took pride in his looks and decorum. Wukong would have gone to the spring naturally on his own in time.

Wukong twitched the edge of his tail annoyed.

He was aware he was a bit unkempt after saving Sophie and Tripataka from the Feiwei. He had just batted the thing out of the air into the earth. There was bound to be blood and gore after a swing like that. Sophie had given him a brief berating of getting himself cleaned up- and when he had asked and demanded for what was rightly his - praise, thanks, AT LEAST A YOUR WELCOME- Sophie had promised him that she would lavish him in praise if he would just get clean.

Fine. If his Master wouldn’t spoil him in praise and was currently giving his attention to Sandy then the Monkey would wheedle it out of Reader.

Wukong sunk lower into the water, thinking. He hadn’t let the group go into the town without him. Though he had threatened and grumbled and said “fuck that” Wukong had set a double to follow from above, watching. Of course the Pig would follow his nose to the demons lair. Of course he would assure the others that there was no way this could be a demon.

Wukong swore the Pig was out to get them killed half the time.

Well the rest was predictable. As soon as that wiggling worm had taken one sniff of the monk, he had grown all greedy and hungry and hadn’t been able to keep its human disguise.

Wukong had the whole situation under control though- it had just - taken him a moment to wake up from his dozing. The snake had gotten a bit close. Maybe the invisible double had shoved the two mortals just a bit too hard. That twisted ankle of the Monks would take some time to heal. Luckily the village headman had given the group his home- a little but set back into a bit of shaded pine and with its own hot spring - to rest und for as long as needed. And while Wukong had endured the grating reprimand of Pigsy at being late, the monkey had felt a bit smug. His deeds had scored them nice lodgings.

Wukong wouldn’t care about where they slept. The Monkey King could simply find a nice patch anywhere and curl up. The boon I’m his cap though was the absolute excited light sweep into Sophie’s eyes at the mention of beds and pillows and a roof over their head.

Wukong pulled himself out of the water, the steam rising off of his body in the twilight air. It had been enough time since him washing his clothes to his longs soak that, in the summer sun, had dried enough. Maybe not the shirt but his trousers had. The rest would have to wait till morning. Wukong had a Reader to annoy now.

Sophie was in heaven. After the hellish day of demonic snakes and almost getting devoured, Sophie was comfortable and cozy and all too happy to rush to the futon that had been dragged into the center of her little room.

A bed. Clean clothes. A full belly. The horror of the day was an echo but it was still there. If she closed her eyes she could still hear it- still smell the hot breath blasting across their faces.

A knock on her door had her start from the memory.

Who’s that ?

It wouldn’t be Pigsy. The man had passed out hours ago after the steamed buns and broth the village headman had left for them. Maybe it was Sandy? That didn’t seem likely since he was currently nursing Tripitakas twisted ankle. It would be better after the swelling went down.

Did Wukong really take me up on my offer of praise?

“READER OPEN THE DOOR.”

Yep. There was only one stone monkey that sounded that annoyed yet still knocked with the politeness. Sophie stepped to the door and opened it.

And stared just a little.

She had been expecting to see a fully clothed Sun Wukong leaning against her door. What she hadn’t been expecting was a half dressed Wukong with his arms crossed over his chest. And emphasizing that he most certainly did not have a shirt on.

“Where’s your shirt?” Brilliant Sophie. Blurt the first thing that comes to mind. Wukong pushed off the doorframe and past her into the room, giving her a clear view of his pecs, his shoulders, his back.

Pull it together girl and get your mind out of the gutter.

“I had to clean it since you and the monk threw a sick fest at a little bit of blood.” The monkey sat down, crossing his legs beneath him. At least he knows how to make himself comfortable.

“Right…” Sophie watched as Wukong began to slide his fingers through the wet fur along his back, beside his face and over his arms. Grumbling as his nails seemed to catch and pull in the longer bits of his fur. Wukong flexed his arms to reach a spot. The ripple of muscle along his back was unexpected.

Sophie felt her face flame up. I’m glad he’s so wrapped into himself because if he saw what I looked like right now—

“Well I’m clean now but my fur is all snarled.” He snapped. The monkey was currently struggling with a knot of fire at the base of his neck.

“I have a brush you can borrow.” Anything to get my head out of that space and back in line with normal thinking. She crossed the mats and grabbed her bag. Sophie plucked her brush free from its place, walking back to Wukong. She was a bit startled he was watching her, his eyes half closed in thought.

“You know what… this wouldn’t have happened if you had just followed my warning women.”

“What?”

“A mess is what you and Pigsy and Trip caused.” Wukong leaned his head back and let the water still clinging to his fur, drip downward. “All because you didn’t listen to the warning I gave.”

What was she supposed to do? Sophie had been hungry, had been just as trusting of Pigsys judgment of what was mortal and what was maligned hungry demonic pretending to be mortal. She tried to pass the brush to Wukong, hoping that if she gave him what he wanted he would leave off his snippy comments.

The monkey raised an eyebrow at the brush.

“You can take it ya know- it’s as good as any comb you have.” Sophie lifted the brush and ran it through her hair in demonstration. Hers was a simple hairbrush with short bristles and a worn handle from use.

“Back on the mountain many female members of my kingdom would kowtow and beg for a chance I’m about to give you.” Wukong said.

Chance ?

The monkey king closed her hands over the handle. He turned, setting his hands on his knees as his back faced her now. “Not everyone gets the chance I am giving you- so be grateful.”

“You want me to… brush you?”

“Brush my fur.” It was more command then question.

“Alright.”

Sophie began at the tops of his shoulders. The short bristled brush caught in the hair and slide free, leaving it untangled. Wukongs fur was thick enough to be like her own hair and the brush carefully and methodically by Sophie’s hand, worked through the thickest patches of fur. At places she would have to switch to a comb, one Wukong slid soundlessly from his pocket and passed back to her. This was strangely nice… if not a bit intimate. The constant motion of the brush, of the task, was helping her still jittery mind calm and work through the events that had led up to them being here in a house. With her grooming Wukong.

“When did you know about the demon?” It came tumbling from her mouth before she could stop it.

“As soon as we came upon the village.” Wukong answered. He had his eyes closed, tail swaying against the wooden floor. “The townspeople stank of demon. Seems that beast has been feeding them up to try and cultivate some souls.”

“Sounds like how some insects raise other bugs” Like how ants raise aphids.

“Or like how mortals raise cattle.” Wukong commented.

“Mmm” Sophie felt her mind run through the memories again. The serpent lashing out- and her ability to drag Trip out of the way of that strike. Of the great snake lifting it’s head from the broken earth. Of it lunging a second time. We both could have been dead so fast. No one would have known. Wukong had been left behind, Pigsy had been thrown off somewhere. Only Sandy knew what may have happened to them. Sophie’s brushing slowed.

A snap of fingers made her blink out of the memories.

“Speak.”

“Speak?”

“Don’t parrot me.” Wukong opened his eye just a fraction to shoot her a glare. “ Something on your mind, you stupid women. Spit it out.”

“I thought… I thought we were dead..”

“You would have been if I hadn’t come!” Wukong reached back and took her hand in his. The Monkey king moved the brush up to his head where the fur was in a most disheveled state. Sophie started to gently untangle it, careful of how hard or how fast she worked. He may be able to burst from fires and come away without any lacerations but he may not take kindly to a mortal carelessly tugging at his fur. The wet strands moved slowly through the bristles as he talked. “Makes you want to take heed of a Kings words hmm?”

For all his boasting and puffing up, for all his prideful japes and comments… he almost had been too late. If she hadn’t yanked Trip. If they hadn’t run … “You almost weren’t there though…”

“Sophie.”

“Yea?”

He was turned about, facing her dead on before she could blink. Wukongs yellow eyes looked over her then. Little scrapes here and their. No major cuts. Except for the still red and puffy slice along her cheek. Wukong reached forward and ran a thumb over the slice. I should have sent more then one invisible douple.

“You wouldn’t have been eaten.” He would lessen her worry, and reaffirm his abilities. Had she forgotten? He was Sun Wukong- no demon could stop him. “I wouldn’t have let it happen. I would have torn the bastard apart before it got even a flick of spit on you. You or the monk.”

And next time I’ll make sure I leave them with two invisible doubles instead of one.

Sophie had frozen when he brushed his hand across her face. He was being kind, sensing her turmoil over it all. She was about to say something in kind, something to match that kindness.

“It’s my duty to protect the weak mortals on this quest. It would reflect badly on me as King of Flower Fruit Mountain if I let those under my care get devoured by some slimy worm.” Of course he couldn’t resist the opportunity to flaunt his importance.

“That almost sounds like reassurance.” Sophie sighed. She raised the brush up again in silent question.

“It is reassurance.” He affirmed. Wukong nodded once at the brush, spinning back around. “No harm comes to those that are in my care.”

“Well. Then if it only takes brushing your fur for that… I would be happy to do it every night.”

Wukongs tail gave a little flick. They spent the rest of the night talking, trading quips and jokes. As the of cicadas from beyond the doors blended with the soft swish of the brush, a feeling of contentment and camaraderie fell between the two. And something … more grew.

#hcwrites #hcfanfics #writing stuff #for jttw monkeybuisness #ITS DONE #I feel like I could polish and spiff it a bit more but if I did I’m afraid I would end up with 20 pages instead of the 16 this is #THIS FIC WAS SUPPOSED TO GO IN A DIFF DIRECTION SO THE NAME IT ORIGINALLY HAD DIDNT FIT #this is what happens when I wanna write big old monster and such #jttw MONKEYBUISNESS #jttw tag #sun wukong #sophie x Wukong #Wukong #sun wukong x reader #poor trip I felt so bad for the man #I DIDNT WRITE TOO MUCH PIGSY INTO HERE BECAUSE HE WOULD HAVE BEEN TALKING AND RIPPING WUKONG AND THAT WOULD HAVE ADDED TO THE PAGE LENGTH #I will include him in the next one more #THIS ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT THEIR COMFORT FOODS #or their fave foods but it became something else. #sometimes that’s how it works #I listened to the ‘For the Throne’ albumin that was made for Game of thrones #ALBUMNIN?!? ALBUM YOU STUPID PHONE - I ain’t going back to fix mah spelling error PFTT I’m too far in #jttw au #jttw fanfic #did I talk about pretty backs ? maaaaaybeeee #maaaaybeee that’s my weakness #maybe you can’t prove it’s not just mine but OTHER peoples weakness as well #👀 #in my defence Kiri draws muscles a little TOOO tempting #just like another person does and it ain’t fair man.

[snapscube]

hey big fan of your channel and art!! was wondering if for the midnight snap series what kind of sound design you were doing it rlly sounds nice!! (also smth that could be nice with it is maybe a little bit of like tape saturation or something might be able to make the audio sound "warmer" if youre like not already doing something like that already, but you probably know better than me!!) feel free to ignore that, but wanted to say in general its so well done and sounds so good!!! its really cozy and nice!!

hey thank you!!! yeah i'd.... genuinely LOVE to talk about my thinking and approach behind the sound design, i'm actually so happy you asked me this LOL this is the kind of shit i live for.

you might assume that it's just me recording the game audio and talking quietly with my normal stream settings, and that is kinda how it STARTS, but there's actually a bit more i've been doing behind the scenes :) nothing too crazy just yet but a little goes a long way when it comes to sound! i'm hoping to really nail down the soundscape and increase the quality over time and specifically up the soothing vibes by a lot. as well as get a little better about mic etiquette and my style of speech. BUT in terms of what i'm doing in post:

the first piece of the puzzle and definitely one of the most important sauces in the whole mix is the Hard Limiter. it does what you might imagine it does, basically just places a hard barrier and says "any sounds that exceed this volume.... no you don't", sort of like a much more intense compressor. currently i have a Hard Limiter on both my commentary AND the game audio, commentary i have set to peak at around -15 to -12 db, whereas game audio is more around the -23 to -20 range. in my more polished audio from later in the AC episode it's enough difference that one doesn't drown the other out in most cases, but not a wide enough gulf that people are struggling to pay attention to one in particular or have to frequently change volume (preferably they don't have to change it at all!). i took this screenshot of the episode's complete waveform when rendering out the audio-only version of AC part 1 and it was super satisfying cause like.... yeah. this is exactly the kind of waveform read i was going for. just super even and smooth across the board, save for a couple anomalies i'll buff out over time.

the next thing i do to both my own commentary and the game audio is actually just cutting down on harsher, higher frequencies with an EQ and just upping the bassier, warmer tones. i started with something super small in the first couple of episodes, i'm probably gonna go a bit harder on it for future stuff though. i wanna find a balance that doesn't make the game sound unrecognizable or anything but is noticeably easier on the ears and sounds more like a nice rolling wave rather than beep boop pac-man time.

past this i have a couple more things added to the commentary track:

to intensify the previous effect mentioned and cut down on harsh frequencies in my speech, i actually have a dedicated de-esser on my voice as well as my usual warmer EQ. i have the de-esser going pretty hard too, you might hear the difference from my usual stream commentary if you were to listen closely. really just taking those harsh t's and s's in my speech and making them sound more like a nice "shhhh", this one is super important i think

last thing i have to speak on otherwise is actually a plugin i found and bought specifically for this show and ends up being subtle but i think SUUUPER helpful in the long run, and that's this plugin called "spiff". spiff is a plugin by oeksound and i guess it's referred to as like, a transient editor? i'm actually not sure how it works at all on the nitty gritty level BUT the important thing is that they have a very important preset in the software, and that is a preset specifically designed to lessen and/or remove like... mouth sounds. yknow like lip smacks and the like. just kinda the gross smacks and clicks you don't hear as much in normal speech but can come through really intensely on a recording and kinda make ya uncomfortable. it obviously doesn't remove a lot of the more intense stuff, it's not a magic wand in my experience. but listening to the output of what it's removing on its own makes it REALLY clear there's a lot of little things it picks up and just kinda makes speech more soothing to listen to. not something i'm racing to apply to my normal streams, BUT for a sleep aid series where good audio is key????? 100% worth it, i like it a lot.

anyway yeah that's about it for now! a lot of it is pretty simple in and of itself but it's stuff i've been working at and experimenting with since i first started doing tests for the show and it's gonna be real nice to keep honing this stuff in. also cool suggestion with the tape saturation idea, i might look into something like that! once i nail stuff like leveling and frequency tuning for this show, i wanna look into some fancier ways of making the soundscape unique to this show compared to my normal streams so ideas like that are super helpful!

[chelsfic]

Unseemly Desire, or Nandor's Season of Self-Discovery - Nandor x Guillermo Fanfic

Sequel to I Fell into Fantasy | WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: In which Nandor tries to convince everyone, including himself, that he does not have any unseemly feelings for his familiar. 

A/N: I couldn't decide on a serious title or a goof title, so I went with both. Thanks so much to Spiff from the Nandermo server for helping me workshop this idea. After I wrote "I Fell into Fantasy" I just kept thinking about how Nandor would spin into denial and the angst that would ensue. Then I woke up this morning with the idea of an axe throwing competition?? And now we're here?

Oh, yeah....this is a multi-chapter fic *flops around the floor helplessly*

Warnings/Tags: Angst, mutual pining, Eventual smut, Blood drinking, Toxic Masculinity in the Ottoman Empire, Repressing feelings, Axe throwing...the usual

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Nandor wakes to the sound of his familiar quietly shuffling about the crypt, no doubt lighting the dozens of candles that line the room. The vampire shifts inside his coffin, frowning at the sticky feel of dried seed on the inside of his trousers. He’d gone to bed that morning with a powerful desire still coursing through his veins along with Guillermo’s sweet, virgin blood. The mere memory of last night’s feeding is enough to stir him once more and he growls, driving the heel of his palm against his crotch to stifle his reaction.

“Master? Are you alright?” Guillermo’s voice is sweet and tentative.

“I’m fine! Why would you ask such a thing?” he snaps irritably, then in a softer voice, “Is it safe to open my coffin now, Guillermo?”

In answer Guillermo cracks the lid, easily lifting the solid weight after years of practice. His master sits up quickly, tugging at the bottom of his loose nightshirt in an effort to cover the obvious stain on the front of his pants. 

“Good evening, master,” Guillermo greets with his usual respectful subservience. 

Good. Perhaps he won’t have to work too hard at reestablishing the boundaries he’d so savagely torn down the night before. It’s imperative that Nandor reminds his familiar of his place within the household and, especially, within their...relationship. His reaction to drinking Guillermo’s blood was shameful and he does not want his familiar getting any high ideas about a romance with his master. 

He knows--how could he not?--of Guillermo’s inappropriate attraction to him. He hears the way the human’s heartbeat races whenever they are physically close. He sees the secret grins on Guillermo’s lips when Nandor does anything the least bit kind. But a romantic relationship between a vampire and a familiar? Yeeck! It’s just not done. Of course, he considered the sex slave option when this unnatural lust first manifested. Other vampires make such arrangements with their familiars. But Guillermo would want more. He would want snuggles and romance and caring and...maybe even a break from his chores?! And the idea of using Guillermo for sex, while appealing, also causes him to feel a burning, stabby pain in his chest that he can’t identify.

No, it is better that he keep things strictly professional. A master and his servant. Nothing more.

Nandor finally steels himself to look up at his familiar, keeping his face a cold, forbidding mask.  And then he sees the massive bruise on Guillermo’s neck.

It’s an angry, deep purple that extends from his jaw down the side of his neck and beneath the collar of his fuzzy sweater. Two scabbed puncture wounds sit in the center of the damage, like demon eyes looking back at Nandor accusingly. He sucks in a breath and involuntarily reaches out to brush his fingers against the wounded skin. Guillermo flinches away from the touch with a pained mew.

“It’s just...tender, master,” Guillermo explains, almost apologetically. 

Nandor can’t think straight. His eyes, liquid and deep, full of some unnameable emotion, focus on the damage he’s caused. How many dead bodies has he tossed aside without a qualm? How many bruises and bites and broken bones has he caused? But he’s never seen the results on someone he--

“I...Guillermo,” he whispers, finally locking eyes with his human and bringing his hand up to cup his cheek, “I did not mean to be causing permanent damage…”

Guillermo gasps softly at his master’s touch. He leans into it, silently thrilling when Nandor doesn’t immediately draw his hand away.

“Permanent? No, master, it’s just a bruise. It will fade eventually,” Guillermo assures him, but Nandor still looks skeptical.

“Does it hurt?” he asks and Guillermo brims with happiness at his master’s concern.

“Only a little bit, Na--master,” Guillermo stumbles, nearly breaking the carefully established protocol between them. 

Nandor notes the mistake and snatches his hand away as if he’s been burned by holy water. He clambers out of the coffin without Guillermo’s assistance. They go through the motions of dressing. Nandor bends down so that Guillermo can get his shirt on over his head, steps into his trousers and boots, and sits quietly while Guillermo arranges his hair. All the while a single word cycles through his head.

Fuck!

---

Guillermo is practically buzzing with energy despite last night’s blood loss. Every time he moves he feels a delicious tug on his wound and the memories of his master’s touch come flying back to the surface of his mind. He doesn’t even care that Nandor dismissed him so abruptly after getting dressed. Nor does he care that he gave him a seemingly random and unnecessary order before fleeing the crypt in his bat form. Guillermo sits on the floor surrounded by his master’s extensive blade collection, carefully cleaning and polishing each one with a giant, goofy grin on his face.

---

“Well, well, well...doing the flight of shame, Nandor?” Laszlo chuckles at his own joke as Nandor drops out of his bat form into a chair in the fancy room. 

“Very good joke, darling! Because he’s finally given the sex to Gizmo!” Nadja crows.

The couple are sitting together in the loveseat. Laszlo is bent over Nadja’s hand, painting her nails and heedlessly dripping lacquer all over the upholstery as he does so.

Nandor’s face blanches in alarm and he cries, “What the shit are you two talking about!? I have not been doing sex with Guillermo! Yuck! Unspeakable! Why would that even occur to you?”

“Me thinks he doth protest too much, eh, darling?” Laszlo remarks to another shriek of laughter from his wife.

Nandor jerks to his feet, bristling and defensive, but before he can think of a reply Laszlo continues, “Well if you weren’t having sex then what the blazes were you doing to the chap to cause those tantalizing moans?”

With this Laszlo launches into a cartoonish impression of the desperate cries and moans that Guillermo made as Nandor drank from him. Nadja claps her hands in delight and joins in the fun. The pair of perverts are soon screeching and twitching in exaggerated, obscene mockery of his familiar.

“Enough!” Nandor roars, stomping his foot petulantly. “Stop speaking of my familiar this way! It’s highly inappropriate!”

“So, you’re saying you didn’t roger your little rotten soldier last night?” Laszlo arches a brow, snorting under his breath derisively. 

Nandor stares back at him in confusion, “What the fuck--?! No! Certainly not. Very...disgusting to even say such a thing. Gross!”

Laszlo glances to Nadja with a sly smirk as he speaks, “Then you wouldn’t mind if my good lady wife and I extended an invitation to the fellow to join us in a ménage à threesome?”

Nandor takes to the air, eyes glowing with rage as he hisses wildly at Laszlo.

“Hey dudes, what’s all the fuss about?” Colin Robinson, drawn by the pulsing waves of drama emanating from the room, appears in the doorway.

Nandor drops back onto his feet and whines, “Laszlo is making unsavory claims about my familiar and I won’t have it!”

“Nandor’s being a snake dick because he’s horny for his familiar and won’t admit it!” Nadja counters. 

Nandor’s mouth snaps shut at that. Nadja’s words have struck true and Nandor feels a shiver of panic at the thought of his shameful secret being known throughout the household. He must convince them they’re mistaken...but how? 

He’s still too enraged to think straight and rather than address Nadja’s words he simply bellows, “Satisfaction! I will have satisfaction against these two perverts!”

Colin grins, his eyes lighting with hungry delight, “How about a contest of some sort? Whoever wins is right. Of course, you should choose a neutral activity. Something in which you’re all equally matched. A checkers tournament? Scrabble, maybe…”

“A contest! Yes!” Nandor interrupts with an excited grin. “A challenge of strength and accuracy! Guillermo! Bring me my axes for throwing! My throwing axes!”

Nadja rolls her eyes and looks about to argue when Laszlo stops her with a hand on her arm.

“I say, good idea, Nandor. We’ll compete in a game of throwing axes. But to prove that you really are telling the truth and you don’t harbor secret, moist fantasies about your little familiar, we’ll make it more interesting. Whoever gets their axe closest to Gizmo without skewering the little guy wins!”

Nandor deflates, “That’s not...I don’t…”

Guillermo enters carefully holding a bundle of wickedly sharp axes. The blades shine in the candlelight and contrast against the soft, muted colors of his sweater. Nandor imagines one of those blades sinking into his familiar’s soft flesh and he shivers. 

Laszlo looks as if he’s already won the little game he’s playing and Nandor clenches his fists, forcing levity into his voice as he announces, “Everyone in the garden! We are going to have a little game!”

---

Guillermo can’t decide if he’s more livid or terrified. He’s standing up against the fence, shivering despite his hat and coat, and desperately trying to hold still as his master casually tests the weight of the axe in his hand. Nadja and Laszlo look on, each carrying axes of their own, and Colin Robinson looks positively frenzied as he feeds off the tension in the air.

“Master, why are we doing this, again?” Guillermo wishes his voice didn’t have such a marked tremor in it.

“I am defending your honor, Guillermo. Now be very, very still,” Nandor launches the axe without any further warning. 

Guillermo shrieks and he feels the air to the right of his head part as the blade sinks into the wood of the fence an inch away from his face. He turns to stare at the quivering handle with wide, horrified eyes.

“There!” Nandor announces with a smug smile. “No one could beat such a throw! Contest over, I win. Guillermo, attend me--”

Nandor is already starting to stride back to the house but Guillermo barely has a chance to let out a relieved sigh when Laszlo steps up wielding his own weapon. 

“Not so fast, Gizmo! I’ll have my turn, thank you!” his voice lilts up dramatically as he raises the axe, screwing one eye shut and taking aim.

Nandor whirls, eyes wide with panic as he urgently hisses, “Be still, Guillermo!”

Guillermo shuts his eyes, whimpering as he awaits his fate. One second Laszlo is letting out a manful bellow as the axe leaves his fingers and the next second Guillermo is hissing in pain as the blade cuts into his cheek. His eyes flash open in shock and he brings his hand up to cup his face. Blood pours from the shallow wound. The pain is a sharp, burning intensity that brings tears stinging to his eyes.

“Ha!” Nandor gloats. “You’ve lost! Your blade touched...him.”

Laszlo swears under his breath but Nandor has lost his steam as the reality of his words hits him. He steps forward, involuntarily reaching for his wounded familiar. Then he catches the knowing look on Laszlo’s face and he stops himself, straightening his spine and raising his head in a show of haughty indifference that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“My turn!” Nadja trills, flipping her axe from hand to hand with a little skip in her step. 

“Master… please!” Guillermo begs. There are tears leaking from his eyes now. Whatever fucking insult Nandor thinks they made against him isn’t worth this!

“Yes, Nandor, the boy has a point. My lady wife is known for many...eclectic skills, but her aim isn’t one of them. We could put a stop to this if you’d care to admit we’re right about your shameful little secret…”

“Never!” Nandor shouts, looking like a giant, angry toddler.

Guillermo’s head spins, “What? What is he talking about, master?”

Nandor turns to his familiar, injecting authority into his voice as he commands, “Guillermo, tell Nadja and Laszlo that we were not doing sex together last night!”

“E-excuse me!?” Guillermo sputters, feeling a heated blush creep up his neck.

Nandor lets out a frustrated growl and his lips curl in revulsion as he shouts, “Tell them that I did not have disgusting, unnatural sex with a...a...human servant! I order you!”

The hand he’s kept clutched over the bleeding wound on his cheek falls limp at his side. Guillermo looks from his master’s cold, detached expression to Nadja and Laszlo’s expectantly curious faces and he sighs in resignation even as another tiny piece of his heart chips and falls away.

“...He didn’t,” he says in a small voice and then, more loudly, “We did not have sex.”

Laszlo looks unconvinced and Nadja just looks annoyed.

“This is getting very boring and I still have not had my turn to throw the axe! Here I go!”

She flings the blade through the air with barely a glance in Guillermo’s direction. It wobbles in the air, toppling end over end as it cuts a deadly path that Nandor immediately sees will end in his familiar’s gut. Guillermo has barely enough time to flinch but Nandor moves with supernatural speed, dashing in front of his human and plucking the axe from the air before it can hurt him.

“Nadja!” Nandor admonishes in an affronted tone. “That was very careless of you! You could have seriously injured my Gui--my familiar! I’m very annoyed with you both!”

Guillermo trembles from behind Nandor, clinging to the fabric of his cape for comfort despite the anger, hurt and resentment that still broils just beneath the surface of his emotions. He’ll deal with all that once his legs resolidify.

Laszlo waves away the near-catastrophe with a flick of his wrist and holds out his arm for Nadja as he comments, “I think we have our answer, darling…”

Nandor’s hands curl into fists at his sides as he watches the other vampires stroll away with smug satisfaction on their faces.

Fucking shit!

---

“Guillermo…” Nandor pauses on his way up the step stool, he squeezes his familiar’s hand in his. “About tonight…”

He’s going to apologize for putting me in danger...for saying those things… Guillermo looks up at him with hopeful expectation in his eyes.

“I hope you are not getting strange notions in your little human brain because of what Laszlo said. It was very wrong of him to make such a sickening claim,” Nandor’s voice is pure condescension.

Guillermo is silent for a beat, swallowing against the lump of emotion in his throat and blinking his eyes rapidly before looking his master in the eye and lying, “Of course not, master.”

Nandor nods in satisfaction and he swings down into his coffin. But he tastes the edge of human sadness beginning to taint the air of the room and he frowns. Hadn’t this whole mess started because he was trying to get rid of the sad human smell? He is caught in one of those hog day loops!

Nandor hesitates, scowling as he chooses his words, “But… I am sorry about the axes. It wasn’t my idea. And… and… I would have been really sad if you had died, because you’re...special to me, Guillermo.”

Nandor lets the words hang in the air for a moment, watching the start of a smile curling his familiar’s lips before shaking his head and waving a hand in front of Guillermo’s face in a flourish, “You will forget about that last thing I just said.”

#nandermo #nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #wwdits fanfic #wwdits

[readbookywooks]

Resa bent over the paper again and began to write. ‘Hear and attend and listen; for this befell and behappened and became and was, O my Best Beloved, when the Tame animals were wild,’ she wrote. Dustfinger smiled. ‘The Dog was wild,’ he whispered. ‘And the Horse was wild, and the Sheep was wild, and the Pig was wild – as wild as wild could be – and they walked in the Wet Wild Woods by their wild lones. But the wildest of all wild animals was the Cat. He walked by himself, and all places were alike to him. ‘ Resa always knew what story he needed at any given moment. She was a stranger in this world, just like him. It couldn’t be that she belonged to Silvertongue. 44 Farid’s Report ‘All right,’ said Spiff. ‘Now this is what I say, anyone who thinks they’ve got a better plan can say so afterwards.’ Michael de Larrabeiti, The Borribles Go for Broke When Farid came back Silvertongue was waiting for him. Elinor was asleep under the trees, her face flushed by the midday heat, but Silvertongue was still standing where Farid had left him. Relief spread over his face as he saw the boy coming up the hill. ‘We heard shots!’ he called. ‘I thought we’d never see you again.’ ‘They were shooting at cats,’ replied Farid, letting himself drop on to the grass. Silvertongue’s concern made Farid feel awkward. He wasn’t used to people being concerned for his safety. What kept you? Where have you been all this time? That was the kind of reception he was used to. Even Dustfinger’s face had always been closed to him, as uncommunicative as a barred door. But with Silvertongue’s face it was different. Anxiety, joy, anger, pain, love – it was all plain to see, written on his brow, even when he tried to hide it, just as he was now trying not to ask the question that must have been on the tip of his tongue ever since he saw Farid approaching. ‘Your daughter’s all right,’ said Farid. ‘And she got your message, though she’s shut up on the top floor of Capricorn’s house. But Gwin is a wonderful climber, even better than Dustfinger, and that’s saying something.’ He heard Silvertongue breathe a sigh of relief, as if all the cares in the world had been lifted from his shoulders. ‘I’ve even brought an answer.’ Farid took Gwin out of the rucksack, held him firmly by the tail and untied Meggie’s note from his collar. Silvertongue unfolded the paper as carefully as if he feared his fingers might wipe away the words. ‘An endpaper,’ he murmured. ‘She must have torn it out of a book.’ ‘What does she say?’ ‘Have you tried to read it?’ Farid shook his head and took a piece of bread out of his trouser pocket. Gwin had earned a reward. But the marten had disappeared, probably to catch up on his long overdue daytime sleep. ‘You can’t read, is that it?’ ‘No.’ ‘Well, not many people could read this anyway. It’s the same secret writing that I used. As you saw, not even Elinor can decipher it. ‘Silvertongue smoothed out the paper. It was a dull yellow like desert sand. He read – and then suddenly raised his head. ‘Good heavens!’ he murmured. ‘Imagine that!’ ‘Imagine what?’ Farid bit into the bread he had been keeping for the marten. It was stale; they’d have to steal some more soon. ‘Meggie can do it too!’ Silvertongue shook his head incredulously and stared at the note in his hand. Farid propped one elbow on the grass. ‘I know. They’re all talking about it – I heard them. They say she can work magic like you, and now Capricorn doesn’t have to wait for you any more. He doesn’t need you now.’ Silvertongue looked at him as if this idea hadn’t yet crossed his mind. ‘True,’ he murmured. ‘Now they’ll never let her go. Not of their own accord.’ He stared at the words his daughter had written on the paper. To Farid they looked like the tracks left by snakes slithering across the sand. ‘What else does she say?’ ‘They’ve caught Dustfinger, and Meggie is to read someone out of the book to come … and kill him. Tomorrow, when it gets dark.’ He lowered the note and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Yes, I heard about that too.’ Farid pulled up a blade of grass and tore it into tiny pieces. ‘It seems they’ve locked him in the crypt under the church. What else is in that note? Doesn’t your daughter say who it is she’s to fetch out for Capricorn?’ Silvertongue shook his head, but Farid saw that he knew more about it than he was saying. ‘Come on, you can tell me! Some kind of executioner, am I right? A man who knows all about cutting off heads.’ Silvertongue acted as if he hadn’t heard him. ‘I saw something like that once,’ said Farid, ‘so it’s all right for you to tell me about it. If the executioner is good with a sword it’s all over quite fast.’ Silvertongue looked at him for a moment, astonished, and then shook his head. ‘It’s not an executioner,’ he said. ‘At least, not a man with a sword. Not a man at all.’ Farid turned pale. ‘Not a man?’ Silvertongue shook his head. It was some time before he went on. ‘They call him the Shadow,’ he said in an expressionless voice. ‘I don’t remember the exact words describing him in the book, all I know is that I pictured him to myself as a figure made completely of burning ashes, red and grey. And without a face.’ Farid stared at him. For a moment he wished he hadn’t asked. ‘They – they’re all looking forward to this execution,’ he said in a faltering voice. ‘Those Black Jackets are in a really good mood. They’re going to kill the woman Dustfinger was visiting as well. Because she tried to find the book for him.’ He burrowed his bare toes into the earth. Dustfinger had tried to get him used to wearing shoes because of the snakes, but when you wore shoes you felt as if someone was pinching your toes, so in the end he’d thrown them on the fire. ‘What woman? One of Capricorn’s maids?’ Silvertongue looked at him with a gleam in his eyes. Farid nodded. He rubbed his toes. They were covered with ant bites. ‘She can’t talk. Dumb as a sand-fly. Dustfinger has a photo of her in his rucksack. She’s probably helped him quite often. And I think he’s in love with her.’ It hadn’t been difficult for Farid to explore the village. There were lots of boys there no older than him. They washed the cars for the Black Jackets, cleaned their boots and their guns, delivered love letters. He’d delivered love letters himself in that other life. He hadn’t had to clean boots, but weapons, yes – and he’d had to shovel camel dung. Polishing cars was much lighter work. Silvertongue looked up at the sky. Tiny clouds were drifting by, pale as a heron’s feathers, ruffled like acacia flowers. Clouds often passed across this sky. Farid liked that. The desert sky he had known before was always empty. ‘Tomorrow,’ murmured Silvertongue. ‘What am I to do? How am I going to get her out of Capricorn’s house? Perhaps I can get in somehow by night. I’d need one of those black suits the—’ ‘I’ve brought you one.’ Farid took first the jacket, then the trousers out of the rucksack. ‘Stole them off a washing line. And a dress for Elinor.’

#Inkheart