#Primal Moon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsabouttimex2 · 26 days

Text

Primal Moon

Twice a year; once in spring and once in autumn, a verdant moon rises to bring the bestial instincts of non-humans to light. Celestials and demons alike struggle to keep hold of themselves, something ancient welling up within them and shifting their thoughts and feelings to a more animalistic state.

Today, the first Primal Moon of the year has risen.

This isn’t the MK you know. This isn’t the goofy and upbeat boy who used to spend his nights stargazing on the roof of his house with you as Pigsy yelled for ‘you idiots to come down before gravity brought you down’. The sweet and kind boy who cuddled up under a blanket with you during each winter, pointing out each far-fetched figure he could find in the nimbostratus clouds.

The person sitting next to you is not that boy.

The river below you has a pleasant vibe to it, the water a dark blue in the moonlight. The current flows gently, moving at a slow, steady pace. The water is clean and crystal clear, and a light layer of fog drapes the surface. It remains undisturbed, untouched. As far as streams go, this one is soothingly peaceful. You’d enjoy it more if your dearest friend didn’t have his hands knuckle-deep in your hair.

The demon- and he is a demon, you’re sure of that, even if he insisted on ‘mystic monkey’- slowly picks through the contents of your messy tresses, examining your scalp closely. He doesn’t hesitate to eat the bits of leaves and twigs he finds, a sort of kindness that you might appreciate if he was in the right state of mind. His tail winds around your ankle, a safe-measure to prevent you from falling from the tree you both sit in.

This is more a display of dominance than kindness, a show of power. Proof that he can do whatever he wants to you, and all that can be done is to play along politely.

His fingers hit a snag, causing the monkey demon to chuff triumphantly. From your hair he pulls a massive bug, a squirming caterpillar so large that it winds around his pointer finger three times over. The sight of it makes him salivate- and he’s clearly considering eating it right in front of you.

And then the demon takes a closer look at you. Scared eyes. Quivering lips. Shaking form.

“…you can have it, Rookie.”

With a mote of protectiveness surfacing inside him, he chooses not to down the grub on the spot. Instead, MK pushes it towards your lips, smearing them with the creature’s wet body. Under the influence of the viridescent light cast from above, this is kindness- feeding his pack before himself.

You gag at the slimy sensation and try to pull away, but MK’s tail tightens around your ankle to keep you close. “Eat,” he says, growing angry and firm. “Eat, Rookie. Don’t get sick.”

Short and blunt language, a sign that he’s losing himself further to the moon’s sway. Anger loosens MK’s grip on himself, sending him further into a bestial mindset.

MK looks down at you expectantly, canines exposed and threatening. He’s waiting for you to obey. He expects this. He knows how this goes- or how it would go, if he were a base animal. Every demon and celestial knows that once the moon reaches a verdant peak, one’s primal instincts come to the fore. It’s been like this forever, time and time again for millennia.

But you wait just a second too long.

With incredible speed, he grabs your leg and throws you out of the towering tree, tossing you down to the ground.

Before you fall more than a few terrifying feet, his tail snags your waist to keep you dangling in midair- he could easily let you plummet, if he pleased. With the moon to cloud his mind, MK’s aggression is a hundredfold. The world around him seems to become a shade more vivid, and he stares at you with unbridled rage in his animalistic eyes.

“I’ll eat it,” you shriek in terror, clinging to his lithe tail as you sob. “Please, I’m sorry! Don’t drop me, please! MK, please, please, I’m sorry, please!”

He chuckles at your desperate pleas, amused but severely displeased and unimpressed. Still, the boy hauls you up and brings you to his chest.

Once you’re safe in his arms, MK presses his sharp canines into the delicate flesh of your neck, showing how easily he could tear your throat out if he really wanted to. This is intended remind you just how powerless you are against him, and it proves his point quite well. His arms squeeze you tight against him, rather painfully. “Be good, Rookie. Or gravity will discipline you before I do.”

Oh, that hurts. It’s like something that Pigsy would say. No doubt that the fatherly pig is someone that MK cherishes even now, calling on his words subconsciously. And honestly? You want him right now. You want the chef to wrap you up in his warm arms, to hold you against his chest and thump your back just a little too hard. What you wouldn’t give to have a bowl of his home-made noodles.

But all you’ve got now is a sizable caterpillar and a set of canines threatening to tear.

Slowly, he looks up to meet your eyes. In return, you awkwardly chatter your teeth, the proper display of submission when being looked at by a higher ranking monkey- you’re just one little human, and it doesn’t come to you as might him or one of his ‘troop members’.

But it’s good enough for MK. He takes the opportunity to finally stuff the bug into your mouth, pulling his teeth from your vulnerable neck. You cry a little harder with every crunch and chew, nausea and newfound trauma bubbling inside you. But under the threat of being tossed or mutilated, you manage to swallow.

Finally, he’s appeased. A little bit of softness resurfaces in his eyes, a hand moving to brush your hair back.

“Want me to take you down, Rookie?”

A little too choked up to respond, you wordlessly nod instead. He swipes your tears away with a fluid hand, then you’re on his back as he clambers down the tree.

You’re deposited somewhat gently on the ground, MK dusting your back off before he sends you on your own way.

You don’t have to look far for something interesting- near the river a few dozen feet away is a beaten-up monkey demon, one you recognize as a former foe of your friends.

He’s been watching you, it seems.

Macaque beckons to you with a gentle hand, his golden eyes unusually soft, most likely born of unexpected sympathy. You’re both at the bottom rung of this ‘troop’, though he barely edges you out for a still pitiful ‘second-to-last’.

Though you’ve never had much interaction with the demon, the lunar cycle amplifies the innate desire most living creatures have to look out for their young and family, for their troops and packs. It’s an instinctual urge that’s difficult to keep suppressed for any person, no matter what the species. The only problem is that who is and isn’t family or friend tends to blur severely under the verdant moonlight.

It shifts your thoughts and feelings, your wants and desires. Macaque has never had children, never wanted them- but something unnatural and overwhelming is telling him to take you as his own.

Macaque is careful not to hurt you as his deft hands pull you close, oddly gentle about the process.

“You- you…” Come on, say something. Anything. Talking is better than crying. Maybe it’ll help you calm down. “You don’t… you don’t have six ears.”

Macaque grins, starting to untangle your hair knot by knot. It seems like he was hoping for a distraction too.

“But everyone stills calls me the Six-Eared Macaque, yeah?”

“Yeah. Tell me why? Please?”

He doesn’t miss the pleading note in your tone. It seems you’re both in need of company and distractions.

“It’s a reference to an old saying, kiddo. ‘A secret is not safe between six ears’, you know? Two ears for person telling the secret, first. Another pair for the person they’re telling, obviously. And you know who the sixth is?”

“…you?”

“Exactly. Well, anyone who’s listening without permission, I guess. The book- you’ve read Journey to the West, right? The book gets a lot of stuff wrong. It’s told by outsiders who were watching, not the actual people in it. They got a few things wrong here and there, kid.”

Hesitantly, you lean into his chest. Usually you’re more guarded around strangers, but today has been long and hard- you both need and want comfort, even if it comes from someone you hardly know.

Macaque suddenly locks an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. His touch is powerful, but he’s putting a lot of effort into keeping it gentle.

“Play dead,” he urgently hisses. “Breath, but don’t move. Do not flinch.”

Too scared to ask for context, you slump against his chest like you’ve fallen asleep, steadying your breathing against his fur.

“Is my cub doing well, bud?” The tone is sickeningly sweet, belonging to none other than the illustrious Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He leans in close until his fur rustles on your back, playing with your hair.

Macaque lifts a finger to his his lips, his elbow coming to rest heavily on the back of your neck so he can force your head down further.

“They just fell asleep.”

Wukong moves his hands from your hair to Macaque’s fur, beginning to groom through it as MK had done to you. As uncomfortable as it had been for a human like you, none of the monkeys minded- their fur was built for it, after all.

“Let me have them,” the Great Sage says. His word can’t be denied- he’s in charge here, and what he says goes, no matter what. “I want to hold my cub.” There’s no harshness or cruelty present in his voice, just a simple command. He says it with the urgency of telling someone to shut your door or turn off your light before they leave.

And Macaque knows he should. His rival won’t hurt you, wouldn’t dare lay even a single harmful finger on you- you would be entirely safe from harm, coddled by the king of Flower Fruit Mountain.

And he can’t stop Wukong from taking you. Macaque had challenged the ginger simian for command over this temporary troop just a few hours ago, and gotten beaten to the ground for it.

He had been forced to accept comfort afterwards, fed with sweet fruits and gently held as his bruises slowly faded- the Monkey King was not an unkind alpha. The worst he had done was snap a power-limiting seal onto Macaque to prevent any further challenges or a potential runaway scenario.

No good can come from holding onto you like this. Macaque knows that he needs to bite the bullet and give you up.

But… he just doesn’t want to.

Sun Wukong frowns, watching his rival’s hesitation with disapproval. Perhaps the unusual lunar cycle also makes demons impatient- his body thrums with the need to lash out, to take and break and command; all impulses one usually suppresses with their own iron will. He leans forward and hisses softly into Macaque’s ear, a warning.

“They might wake up if you move them,” he weakly argues, holding you just a bit tighter. “And cubs need their sleep to grow.”

The bubbling animalistic urges inside of Wukong die down, appeased by Macaque’s sound reasoning. “We can lie together,” he offers, nestling into the grass. “Without moving them too much.” The king pats the ground beside him, but it’s not really an offer- just another command.

Macaque does as told, laying on his right side with you in his arms. And right before Wukong can move in to cage you from the left, MK slides between you both, sandwiching himself between the king and you.

For the most part, Wukong is unbothered. He squishes himself closer, stretching his arms out to envelop MK, then snagging his tail around your arm. Macaque’s tail winds around MK’s legs, MK wraps his around your waist.

And you are so perfectly trapped by this furry tangle of love that you have no choice but to drift into darkness.

Suddenly you’re awake and morning approaches, a few birdsong chirps adding themselves to the list of nocturnal sounds. Their cheerful voices slowly grow louder with the approach of the sun. The sky gradually shifts from dark blue to a soft pink, slowly growing brighter as dawn approaches. With the rising light, the forest grows less and less peaceful, the chirps and calls of the various forest life growing ever more frequent. Yet, despite the added noise, the terrain remains safe and quiet. The wind blows through the branches of the trees gently, almost like it's speaking silently.

One day down.

Six to go.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere MK #MK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #Macaque #Monkiefam #Primal Moon

108 notes · View notes

itsabouttimex2 · 17 days

Note

PRIMAL MOON BULLFAM SOUNDS SO GOOD.. but also since their minds get muddied during the moon do they remember everything that happened afterwards? or is there just suddenly going to be a human in the fortress PIF is attached to? Not to mention how bad MK would feel after the moon..

Primal Moon

Bullfam Drabble Monkiefam Headcanons

Okay, so… when it comes to post-viridescence memories, there’s a definite ‘muddled’ state of recollection, sort of like how you act after drinking. Some people will remember just about everything, others have a foggy haze to sort through, and then there’s always people who wake up totally hungover with no memories of the last week.

Demon Bull King is the definite final category. He wakes up covered in fresh scars and blood, exhausted to the very bone. All signs of a successful hunt. And there’s a thrumming satisfaction that rumbles his chest, knowing that he’s just as powerful now as he was before, if not more so.

It takes a moment for the bull to compose himself, stretching out a newly aching body. Bandages are wrapped along his arms and the length of his chest, tightly wrapped and tied at the end with bows.

Red Son’s work, no doubt. He always got weepy when his father came back from the hunt. Whenever on end he would tend to his father’s wounds, his hands shaking as tears of worry filled his eyes.

And speaking of the boy, the taurine demon can feel his son’s fiery form, nestled into a thin layer of purple…

Fur.

His fur was regrowing, finally.

That wasn’t too unusual- the Primal Moon‘s impact was more than simply mental- it also sparked physical changes of many kinds.

Fur growing thicker, hair growing longer, horns sprouting from your scalp, skin hardening to thick hide, teeth sharpening to fangs, nails hardening to talons, pupils thinning to slits.

The Demon Bull King had seen so many of these, and lived through a few himself. More than a few times had those enhanced attributes won tipped the scales towards his favor in a fight.

As he sits up slowly, the euphoric agony of a new scar jolts across his waist. The demon gazes down to see his family nestled in his cupped hands, cushioned by the newly grown fur. Red Son fitfully clings to one of his fingers like a child, his sleep wracked with nightmares. Princess Iron Fan laying across his palm on her back, her countenance dignified even in sleep.

And… one little newcomer. You’re curled into a tight ball, wrapped up underneath Red Son’s torn long-coat. You’re squished as far into his son’s back as possible, drinking in the warmth he offers. One of your hands is enfolded in Iron Fan’s own, her grip tight.

One of the king’s eyebrow raises sharply in confusion, his brain still muddled by slowly fading viridescence. Were it not for the rest of his family resting soundly around you, he would have considered dumping you onto the ground below.

But he wouldn’t dare risk the health of his wife, nor that of his son.

So; reluctantly, the Demon Bull King settles back down and waits for the sun to rise, feeling the last remnants of ancient bestial instincts fade from his mind.

It’s his progeny who wakes first, though- some few hours after the taurine demon has drifted back to sleep, Red Son slowly opens his eyes.

The Primal Moon has a varied impact on everyone, shifted bodies and minds unequally. No two people are impacted the same way

Red has always hated it- being reduced to a little blubbering heap, desperate for warmth and affection.

Every year he proclaimed that this time would be different, and every year he was wrong.

No matter how hard he pushed to stay strong, Red Son was soon reduced to desperate whimpers for affection and praise, clinging to his parents desperately.

And finally, Princess Iron Fan had decided to look outside the family for a solution, giving up on potions or mental wards that never did more than barely dampen the problem.

So she had gone and snatched up a cute little mortal slinking around in the alleyways, catching you as you went to restock your family’s fridge halfway just a day into the week.

One moment you had been trudging across the paved stone and muttering about how your family was incredibly stupid to have not prepared better and been better with their resources, the next you had been spirited away to a demonic fortress.

A powerful gust of wind had blown you into the side of a half-taurine demon, who had been rubbing at his fresh horns and whimpering.

“This will be your new sibling, Red Son.”

Then she was gone in a whirlwind, left to tend to her own affairs as the demon clung to you and begged for attention.

It had been a lot to take in at the time, thrown suddenly into the affairs of a brand new family, expected to play caretaker to a fiery ‘sibling’.

Adjusting hasn’t been too awful- you simply doted on the red-haired demon and tended to his horns, and he laid his head on your lap and begged you not to stop. His father out hunting, his mother busy with her own matters, Red Son had wholeheartedly accepted you as his own family, in spite of the strange circumstances.

And Princess Iron Fan had quickly taken notice. You were useful, a gentle and kind soul who took pity on her boy, of all things.

There was no hatred or spite from your end, merely confusion and worry. Some genuine concern for Red Son. The most negative reaction they got from you was fear, and you mostly reserved that for the Bull Clones.

And… she grew mildly attached in her own stoic way, only realizing it when she watches you cook something filling and comforting for the fiery demon. You had left portions for her and her husband too, boxing them up for later convenience.

Even if you were a squishy little human with a little too big of a heart… you were admirably kind.

So, why shouldn’t she keep you around? Not only were you surprisingly mature and put-together, but you aren’t all too concerned about running back home to your parents or siblings. Nor were you desperate to escape their clutches.

Clearly, you were in no rush to return. Maybe you didn’t care for your blood.

So be it.

You could be part of their family, instead.

(I’M SO SORRY ABOUT THE SPELLING MISTAKES IT WAS LATE AND I WAS TIRED AND I ALREADY HAD TO REDO THEM TWICE)

Sun Wukong is the standout yandere in all of Primal Moon (except for maybe Azure), having an obsession for; in order of severity, Y/N, Macaque, and MK.

Y/N has to call him Bàba/爸爸, no exceptions. If they deny this demand, then the Monkey King smothers them in forced affection. It’s easy to think you can continually refuse his order since he’s not actually laying hands on you, right? It’s not like you’re being hurt. But eventually it’s the sixteenth hour straight that you’ve been sitting on his lap, getting forehead kisses and hair grooming without a single word or noise from the simian. They’ll crack eventually, needing food or water or simple audial stimulation.

Calls you ‘cub’ constantly, but might spring a ‘hun’ in softer or more lucid moments. MK is still ‘bud’, obviously, but he’ll occasionally get one of the first two monikers. And Macaque; though he doesn’t want a nickname or any doting, receives a simple ‘Mac’. If there comes a time that he’s tending to the Six-Eared Demon’s wounds, Wukong might just drop a ‘Xiandi’. Secretly, Macaque really likes that.

Group naps are a must. Everyone squishes together to fit in his lavish bed/a sunny patch of lush grass, all of you pressed flush to one another in a warm little heap.

Grooming. So much grooming. Pulling leaves and twigs from your hair as he hums, snacking on bugs and salt crystals he pulls from your hair/fur. Then he shifts around and turns his back it you, expecting the same care.

Macaque isn’t immune to the moon’s call… but he’s still pretty in control of himself throughout the week. The worst symptoms he faces are overeating, stereotypies, and mild possessiveness. Lots of gorging himself when things get stressful, stuffing down the sweetest things he can find. He paces his feet raw and plucks strands of fur, or beats his tail into the ground and pulls on his ears.

Because of the above, Wukong is severely protective of him during the week, frequently checking in on him. Any wounds are promptly cleaned and patched, then he’s resigned to an hour or so of TLC after he’s all bandaged up. The Great Sage may well resort to restrictive clothing in a well-intentioned attempt to prevent further damage.

Poor guy is always trying to advance his rank in the troop, even though he’s not entirely sure why he wants to climb ranks instead of escape. The answer is that the moon is influencing his mind.

Y/N is grateful for his care during the first Primal Moon they spend with the Monkiefam, and gives him an audiobook player to repay his kindness. He uses the hell out of that little machine during any further viridescence-born anxiety fits, shedding many of his harmful behaviors.

MK; the poor guy, has lost his mind. It used to be that he was one of the ‘normal ones’, hiding out in his room and the noodle shop all through the week.

When he was just a kid, Pigsy would stock the fridge with lots of noodle bowls for the kid to reheat and snack on, and more than a few sugary drinks that the kiddo wouldn’t normally have access to. Lots of coloring books and blank papers and crayons, ensuring that he’d keep busy. And seven full changes of clothes left on his drawer, each outfit chosen to be cozy. And then he’d endure a full week just about all by himself, watching his surrogate father down four bowls of noodles and dose himself with sleeping pills.

Spending most of the week alone as your guardian renders himself comatose, and when you’re so young, too… Primal Moon!MK has definite separation anxiety born from this event. And, speaking in Pigsy’s defense- this is about the best he can do for everyone. He will not risk hurting the kiddo, won’t risk hurting Tang, won’t risk damaging his restaurant in a fit of rage.

So MK’s only experience with the event is hiding away and trying to distract himself with art, fighting back sniffles as he draws pictures of happier days, him and Tang and Pigsy holding hands and smiling. Those photos always end up stained with tears by the time he done drawing, but Pigsy hangs them up in the restaurant anyways.

When his true self comes to light in Season Four… he’s left totally unprepared and has literally no preparation or acclimation to the lunar cycle. Frog in a pot, I suppose. No acclimation to something bad makes your reaction to it worse.

Poor kiddo.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Primal Moon #Bullfam #Monkiefam #Yandere Demon Bull King #Yandere Red Son #Yandere Princess Iron Fan #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #Yandere MK #Yandere Drabble #Yandere Headcanons

75 notes · View notes