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shootsun · 2 years

Note

Wukong dealing with amnesiac macaque, since it's always the reverse

This one was interesting because we don't have a lot of canon information about what Macaque was like when he was younger, so I kinda just... used a lot of fandom hcs about it

tw: mildly suggestive

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It's the middle of the night when one of the monkeys jumps onto the small of his back, waking him up with a startled shout.

“Danger stranger demon,” it chitters at him and Wukong feels all vestiges of sleep leave his body instantly.

"Where?" He asks in a dialect too old to be properly human anymore, and the monkey points in the direction of the cliffs.

Wukong leaps to his feet and tells the monkey to gather the rest of the troop and hide until he gives the signal, and the tiny thing determinedly scampers off.

There's a brief moment where he steels himself, hoping he doesn't run across any of his children injured, but he scowls and starts out the door before his stomach has really settled.

There's movement in the trees above where the scout had pointed out, and Wukong wastes no time leaping onto one of the branches to even the footing.

A giggle escapes the shrouded figure hidden in the branches, and the noise must spark some mischievous part of his soul because Wukong can't help the feral grin that plasters itself across his face as he lunges at the still laughing demon.

The figure gracefully dodges him, and falls backwards off the branch they were perched on before Wukong can reach them, his hand outstretched into now empty space.

He sucks in a breath, expecting the crashing of branches or a muted groan or the sound of a body hitting the ground, but instead, there's more giggling from below.

A flash of silvery white fur catches his eye, and for a moment, it's like he's young again, before Heaven, before Puti, the mountain, the journey, all of it.

"Can't catch me, Shi Hou," floats out across a breeze, and he's moving faster than he has in at least two centuries, but as soon as his claws brush white fur, Macaque is gone.

"You used to be faster than that!" Taunts the unglamoured demon, and Wukong yells back, "I don't know what you're playing at, but I won't fall for it!"

"You're not still mad at me for putting your bed in the lake, are you? I said I was sorry!" Macaque pauses, halfway into a shadowy portal, his head tilted and a distressed frown pulling at his mouth.

Wukong stops in his tracks, staring at his old friend before the words process and he blinks.

"What are you talking about? Mac, that was centuries ago."

Macaque laughs. "What are you talking about? That was like… last week!"

Just as that unsettling piece of misinformation reaches him, his phone buzzes in his pocket, and Macaque once more slips into the shadows.

He ignores the device now furiously vibrating, and invokes his gold vision to scan the area for Macaque. When he sees a shadow haunch over like it’s trying to suppress laughter, he lunges forward to tackle the demon.

Macaque yelps as he’s tackled out of the shadows, and they roll for a few feet before Wukong ends up straddling the other, his legs pinning the demon to the forest floor.

It's only once they've stopped moving that Wukong realizes all of Macaque's glamours are down.

His scar is prominent across the left side of his face, practically engraved through his cheek, his eyes each have a shimmering violet iris, his fur is white with swirls of blue and a charcoal singe, and his ears… All six of his brightly glowing ears are out on display without a care.

Wukong, entranced by a sight he hasn't seen in centuries, reaches for them before he can think better of it.

Macaque doesn't flinch from his hand, only closes his eyes and tilts his head to allow Wukong better access, and when the god rubs the bottom most lobe, a steady purr rises from the demon's chest.

The god snatches his hand back like it's been burned, and Macaque pouts before lazily cracking an eye open.

"Why'd you stop?" He whines, and reaches for Wukong's hands, placing them on his ears before his fingers are circling Wukong's wrists.

"I-" Wukong hesitates, and then goes back to gently massaging Macaque's ears, the demon's purr picking back up instantly. His heartbeat seems to triple in his chest as he lets centuries-old memories guide his hands to every spot that has Macaque melting into a puddle.

After a few minutes, Macaque blinks up at him, a steady purple flush covering his cheeks, and then, in less than a second, they've switching positions; Wukong’s back on the forest moss and Macaque's thighs tightening over his own legs.

"Wait, wa-it," Wukong pants out as hands roam his chest and Macaque leans down to bite along his throat.

He can't help the whine that leaves his mouth when Macaque breaks skin, the demon's tongue lapping up golden ichor eagerly.

"Maybe it has been longer than a week," Macaque chuckles slowly, "You're usually not this noisy."

He digs his thumbs into Wukong's hips as he says this, and the god bucks into the bruising grip with a strangled sound.

“Liu er,” He hisses, and Macaque raises a teasing eyebrow.

“That’s my name,” the demon says, his voice low and gravelly before he tugs on Wukong’s earlobe with his teeth.

A squeak that Wukong would forever deny makes its way out of the god’s parted lips and Macaque’s claws had only just started tugging at the front of his robes when the demon pauses for a moment.

“-king? Macaque?” Someone calls in the distance and one set of Macaque’s ears twitches in annoyance.

“Not these weirdos again.” Macaque mutters as he hoists himself off of Wukong.

“What?” Wukong manages to say as he sits up, but Macaque ignores him and slinks into the shadows without another word.

He has to sit and breathe for a second before he remembers his phone in his pocket and fishes the device out, hoping it would hold some answers.

A series of increasingly frantic texts from MK paints an unfortunately clear picture.

MK had accidentally stumbled upon Macaque meditating and woke the poor demon out of his trance, similar to what had happened with him and Pigsy earlier that year. But Macaque, awaking in an unfamiliar environment and surrounded by strangers, had lashed out, demanded to know where Wukong was, and bolted the minute he figured out the god was on FFM.

A series of muffled yells in the distance yanks Wukong’s attention back to the present, and Macaque steps back into view, dragging a very disoriented and tied up MK behind him.

“MK!” Wukong scrambles to his feet and tears the shadows binding MK like ripping tissue paper.

“Oh, is this your newest sworn brother? I swear, you make the family bigger every time I blink.” Macaque shakes his head with a fond grin. “You should’ve said something, bud.”

“I was wondering why he was trying to be so familiar with me earlier, but I guess if you’re close with him,” the demon jerks a thumb towards Wukong, “He never shuts up about me.”

“I-what?” MK whispers to Wukong, and the god shakes his head.

“I do to shut up about you.” The golden monkey scowls.

“Uh huh. Which is why Demon Rhino King knew exactly who I was upon first seeing me and then pointed out my favourite snack on the buffet table within two seconds.” The demon chuckles at the memory.

“DRK was a notorious flirt and you know it. He was just trying to get me all jealous.” Wukong only barely resists crossing his arms as his scowl deepens.

“Doesn’t hide the fact you talk about me enough that your newest friends can pinpoint me out of a crowd and let me know if the venue is serving anything I’d like.” Macaque smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, wow. Okay.” MK breathes, and his hands bat Wukong’s own hands off the kid’s shoulders.

“You’re like…dating, dating.”

“Mates.” Macaque haughtily corrects, and Wukong feels a steady flush return to his face as the bites on his neck throb at the claim.

“Riiight.” MK nods slowly.

“So. Um. Anyways, how about we go back to Monkey King’s place and get something to eat?” MK suggests, his eyes flicking between Wukong and Macaque rapidly. “I don’t know about you, but all this talking and fighting has made me hungry.”

Wukong clears his throat and rises, “Yeah, good idea, kid.”

“You know the way back, Plum?” Wukong asks, and Macaque scoffs.

“I wasn’t gone that long. ‘Course I do.”

“Lead the way, qīn'ài de.” The term of affection slips effortlessly from his lips, and MK gives him a scandalized look as Macaque winks.

“Anything for you Mo Wang.” Macaque waves and starts down the path, leaving MK fake gagging behind him.

“Oh, this is what it’s like when your parents flirt in front of you. Oh. I hate it.” MK chokes out dramatically. “Go back to trying to ki-”

Wukong rolls his eyes and covers the teen’s mouth with one hand.

“How’d?” He juts his chin in the direction of Macaque’s back.

MK stares at him, practically blue screening before understanding lights up his eyes.

Quickly, Wukong removes his hand before MK can get any ideas (the last thing he needs is the kid’s mouth germs on him), and MK takes a deep breath before stage whispering, “Blunt force trauma.”

‘Great. We get to sneak up on a demon who can hear us coming from five miles away.’ Wukong grimaces.

He turns and follows Macaque, MK trailing quickly behind. Halfway to the hut, he sees a curious face poke out of a tree and he makes a shooing motion at the monkey until it sinks back into the foliage.

Macaque leads them back to the falls and gestures for Wukong to leap first with a half grin.

He lowers the wards surrounding the rushing water as he jumps, and lands on the other side before MK joins him seconds later.

With a flick of his wrist, Macaque draws up his own wards to shield the falls as he lands beside them, and Wukong’s heart aches at the feeling of familiar magic that hadn’t graced the cave in years.

Macaque leads them to a firepit and begins to pull out Wukong’s hair, looking at him expectantly. With a roll of his eyes, the god blows on his fur, summoning a pot and various ingredients before Macaque starts throwing them together.

“I forgot you like to cook,” Wukong says softly, and the demon gives him a confused look before haunching back over the pot.

“It tastes better than just transformed food,” the demon defends as he stirs the soup he’d started.

MK takes a deep breath and plucks one of his own hairs, closing his eyes with a determined expression before blowing on the strand. A frying pan materializes in the teen’s hand, and Wukong wants to cover his eyes as his successor slinks behind where Macaque is thoroughly invested in his culinary endeavor.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Macaque lazily asks, looking over his shoulder at MK.

MK yelps and swings the frying pan, hitting Macaque square in the face with a loud clang that reverberates throughout the cave. The white furred monkey slumps, a surprised look still on his face as he loses consciousness.

With a grimace, Wukong moves forward and catches Macaque before the demon hits the ground. The god gently brushes white fur back out of his old friend’s face.

“Is he going to be okay?” MK timidly asks, fidgeting with the handle of the frying pan.

“Yeah. I’ll take care of him, you go home.” Wukong flicks his eyes up to MK and offers a brief smile before once more taking in Macaque, trying to re-memorize all the little features he’d nearly forgotten.

“Okay.” MK nods, standing, and turns back to take in one final look at the two monkeys.

Wukong, lost in his melancholy, and Macaque, half pulled into the god’s lap, entirely unaware of the careful fingers skirting his wounds, old and new alike.

#mk has to interrupt a lot of my scenes otherwise i think they'd just get...either really gory or really...steamy lol #lmk #lmk monkey king #lmk wukong #lmk six eared macaque #lmk liu er mihou #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #shadowpeach #lmk mk #lmk xiaotian #lmk amnesia rules pt 2 the electric boogaloo #macaque did Not look in a mirror #and it was a good thing too #my writing #answering ask #mo wang means my demon king and macaque totally would call wukong that to fluster/shut him up #tw suggestive

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inkskinned · 11 months

Text

you're in the habit of denying yourself things.

if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.

but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?

what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.

and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.

you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.

so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.

it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.

sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.

oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.

#warm up #this isn't good #writeblr #this is complicated by the fact i can't stand up too long or i fuckken pass out and <3 hit my damn head <3 #but i did take a deep breath and buy myself the stupid rice cooker #and!!! a very cheap sushi kit!!! i have been wanting to try making sushi for literally YEARS #the kit was only like 15 dollars!!!! and i haven't purchased it bc?!!??!?!?!?!!?#..... i didn't get the mixer tho that felt. like a lot. like too much.#on my list is a kitchenaid. one day when i get a check and i have paid off my student debt #and medical debt #i will put that first little bit of cash #into a kitchenaid 5qt stand mixer (with attachments)#i really do just go into their refurbished section and stare lustily at each option #but yeah i feel guilty about the rice cooker even tho i know for a fact this damn thing is gonna be a lifesaver #oh shit also fuck i forgot to mention . poached eggs

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