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septic-dr-schneep · 3 years

Text

JSE - Given Time (Part 12)

Previous chapters: [x]

A/N: You know how I said I would wait to post this? I lied

Three and a half weeks.

Three and a half weeks since Marvin had wrenched awake with a ragged scream, feeling like someone had punched a hole in his chest.

Three and a half weeks since he’d half-stumbled, half-crawled from his room to the others, everything in his body singing, Wrong! Wrong! Danger!

Three and a half weeks since they had broken down Chase’s door to find nothing but his hat, phone and wristwatch strewn on the floor. Weeks of terror, rage, grief and determination warring within Marvin as he drilled through every tome on his shelf, searching and scanning for answers in every line, for some kind of sign.

By only the sixth day his fingers were bloody with papercuts and burnt from entangling too many spells at once but the others knew better than to try stopping him. They were far too busy with their own search methods.

Jackieboy had scoured the city, cashed in as many favors as he could spare, dragged as many police officers as he could get his hands on into the search. It was a testament to how much of their faith he had earned, working with them over the years. “He’s my friend,” he said, and that was all they needed to know.

Schneep contacted every hospital, every urgent care, every house caller he could think of in the city, then as many as he knew in the Ipliers’ city. Dr. Iplier had sworn he would do what he could on his end, though who knew how much?

Whenever he wasn’t on the phone, Henrik was crying into scarred, shaking hands. “I wish it were me. If the monster has him, if Chase must endure what I did…” There were nightmares and horrors in his eyes that wouldn’t let him elaborate. “I wish it were me. I would take his place, I would endure it all again if it would spare him!”

Jameson, meanwhile, did the work that was left by the wayside: food, water, blankets when the others finally passed out with their desks as their pillows. After the initial panic he seemed to go into shock. China-pale and puffy-eyed, he drifted from task to task in a daze. His speech slides were scarce, his signs nonexistent. On the rare occasion that he rested, he prayed.

There were no traces of static lingering in Chase’s room—not a speck, not a flicker. Emergency calls and hospital reports of stab wounds came up empty. Chase’s gun was still in its locked drawer, as were the bullets. There was no note to detail a goodbye. When Marvin grit his teeth, swallowed his pride and bitterness and called Stacy, she said that neither she nor the children had heard from Chase in a couple of months.

That should have been a relief, a sign that this wasn’t another attempt. Chase wouldn’t dare try to leave this world again without telling Brianna and Connor that he loved them one last time. Nevertheless the fear churned, always, in the back of Marvin’s mind.

What if he did try to reach the kids but couldn’t get through, so he gave up? What if he doesn’t have his gun because he’s going to try some other way? What if he took the note with him so it would be on his body when he’s found?

No. No. I would know. I would have felt it.

That tether he held, that thin lifeline tangled up around Chase’s soul was all that Marvin could count on every day. Chase’s face card, the King of Clubs, could not locate him, aimlessly fluttering up and down the streets. With every dead end the card’s enchantment found, Marvin was taken back to the days of watching Schneep’s card tumble in the wind, unable to reach him in the pocket dimension where Anti had stashed him away.

That train of thought found a new track.

Three and a half weeks since this new twist of their living nightmare began and at long, long last, they had found something solid to stand on.

Marvin’s plan had been to utilize his soul bond with Chase from the start, combing through dimensions one by one, searching for any pang, any sensation. Yesterday afternoon, however, Dr. Iplier had called Henrik to pass on a message.

“The Host is well aware of the Septic Egos’ trouble. Marvin the Magnificent approaches it on too small a scale. Pocket dimensions will prove trivial, fruitless…but the Host Sees beyond. For the price of a future favor, he may be of assistance in locating Chase Brody’s thread of reality.”

It was the easiest debt they could ever agree to. Another nine months with a hole in their household was not an option.

Marvin emerged on the opposite side of the portal, the opposite side of the universe, with Jackieboy tensed for a fight beside him. Schneep was quick on their heels, machete raised for an upswing, and Jameson had his sword cane drawn before his feet even hit the rocks. It wavered in his hand, however, as he laid eyes on the city in the middle distance.

“Jeepers…That truly is Elvery Heights. It’s the spitting image of our own…yet darker,” he murmured in wary disbelief.

“I don’t understand. Should this portal not have taken us straight where we should be? We are on the outskirts,” Schneep demanded.

“The Host wasn’t about to do all our work for us—and it’s probably better that we haven’t been dropped into the middle of a fight,” Jackie pointed out. “We know nothing about this place. We should find our bearings first.”

“We should find Chase; he’s waiting for us somewhere in there and I’m not going to waste any time sightseeing! We need to get in, get out and get him home!” Marvin snapped, pushing past him into a jog toward the far street. “I’m going to West General, Schneep; if he’s hurt, the Anti of this universe would probably dump him there for you to find!”

He had hardly sprinted ten feet before Jackieboy caught up with him. “Marvin,” he began in a warning voice.

“I feel him now. He’s here and he’s frightened,” Marvin snarled, dodging the hand that grabbed for his shoulder. “Isn’t this how you felt when Schneep was gone? Can’t you understand, you of all people?! Wouldn’t you do anything to get him back, no matter the risks? You would’ve plowed right in too if you knew where he was and I will not hesitate to do the same! Chase is—”

“I know. I know, Marvin.” Jackie matched pace with him, gaze steady, low voice unfaltering. “But even if I had found out where Anti kept Henrik, I would’ve been an idiot to go alone, with no reconnaissance and no plan. I don’t doubt for even a second that I would’ve gotten us both killed.”

“I don’t plan to make that mistake.”

“It would be an even bigger mistake to leave us behind! He’s not just your brother. You think JJ wouldn’t do whatever it takes to save his dad right now? But he’s keeping it together and coming along with a level head. We’re all here to help you.”

Muscles twitching in his jaw, Marvin quickened his stride. I’m coming, Chase. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just hold on.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

All of the buildings, the streets, the parks, shops and walkways—They all seemed to be “right” but Henrik couldn’t shiver away this uneasy chill from his back as he followed Marvin and Jackieboy toward the hospital. It was his hospital. Shouldn’t he feel at ease, knowing this street so well? But as intricate as the familiar surroundings may be, they didn’t hold up well when he truly looked. It was like an optical illusion or a spot-the-difference game, everything further skewed as he ventured further in.

The passing cars were few and far between, the pedestrians dotted across the street so rarely that it was startling to see one. None of them smiled. None of them even seemed to care about each other’s existence. Unlike the civilians at home, these people didn’t give a second glance to the “quadruplet” Egos passing them. They didn’t bat a lash at their attire, didn’t bother meeting their eyes.

“You feel it creeping up on you too, doc?” Jameson shivered beside him, leaning on his sheathed cane to keep up. “The cold? The strangeness of it all? I can’t rightly put my finger on why but this place feels…ill, like the heart has drained from it. I find myself hoping that the hospital will show happier signs of life!”

“I hope that too.” Thanks to those words his patients’ faces were already flashing in his mind as they stopped before the double doors. “Okay…it looks normal enough, the way I know it…”

“You’re obviously the one who can get in and check around for any sign of him the fastest without being suspected,” Marvin announced, wasting no time to steer him forward by the shoulder. “You know where they keep the patient logs, right?”

“If they keep them where they do at home, yes, but that is an ‘if’,” he reminded him tersely. “This is a different world, Marvin; we do not know if I even work here, if I have ever worked here. Hopefully my coat and expert doctoring will let me pass through at a glance but if it doesn’t—”

“Henrik? Is that you standing dillydally around I see? I thought you were scurrying out to fetch our coffee twenty minutes ago!”

All other fears fled his mind at the call and left him paralyzed at the sound of that voice. Marvin and Jameson retreated a few feet, taken aback, but Jackieboy wasted no time shouldering defensively between him and the approaching figure.

“What’s going on? Henrik?” Albrecht repeated, glancing curiously between the rigid pair. “If you don’t hurry to the shop, our break will be over before you’re back.”

Henrik could only stare at his old enemy, openmouthed, drawing a blank on any possible response. The mere fact that Albrecht was unmasked, ungloved and clean of any bloodstains was enough to render him speechless. Jackieboy didn’t suffer that malady.

“What are you doing here, Doll Maker?” he barked.

“That’s the Doll Maker?” Marvin breathed, glancing at Jameson as he tightened white knuckles around the head of his cane.

“Well?” Jackie spat, eyes burning. “Have you been waiting for us to arrive? Are you the one who’s taken him?”

A snort of bewildered concern escaped Albrecht as he shifted back, hands lifted placatingly. “Very sorry, sir, but I imagine you think of someone else. I have never heard of any ‘Doll Maker’; I do not know why you call me that. Do you need a doctor’s help? Who was taken from you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Are you trying to mock us?”

“Not at all! If you are looking for a patient, you can ask the front desk in there—or if you would like to wait just a tick, my friend Dr. Schneeplestein and I can gladly listen to your story and see if there is anything we can—”

A nearby crash, splash and clatter cut him off before he could finish, making them jump. As he spun sideways Albrecht lit up, calling out, “Oh, hello! There is the coffee! I—”

“Schneep,” Marvin whispered.

Jameson flinched. Jackie swore.

Albrecht wavered uncertainly, glancing to and fro with the same disbelief mirrored on the others’ faces. “W-Wait. Wait a moment…How can there be—?”

As the steaming brew collected in a puddle that stretched for his shoes, Henrik remained absolutely still, unable to breathe. On the other side of that gap, his other self, bony, pallid and haggard, stared him down with sunken eyes that still shone as cold and sharp as razorblades.

“What is this?” he hissed.

___________________________________________________

@viostormcaller @misslennie9 @obsidiancreates @plutoandpolaris @rainidaydreamer @alvie-ashgrove @subtleshenanigans @victory-cookies @happysingingturtles @c4link @ashphoenix06 @a-humble-narcissus @jackskeptically @burningbirb @theblackphoebe @hexatrash @realcanadianmoose @o-0notsteph0-o @help-trashbin @blitzindite @rats-this-username-is-taken @lildevyl @droidreamer @number1120 @bookwormscififan @wynterst0rms @awesomekattyk @the-weirdest-fangirl-blog @epicfangirl01 @rammypaige @the-spawn-of-loki @isa-ghost @rabbitsartcorner @totallynotanti @thesinginggal @akiacreates @veryanxiousdev @stardustdragon130 @10th-no-name-person @immabethehero @rataccoonn @darkiplurrr @smolswolpotato @gay-but-still-feral @definitely-asexual-volcano @0-chaotic-potato-0 @jade-orade @nagrom10714

@egopocalypse

#youtube #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #youtube fanfiction #writersofjack #given time #marvin the magnificent #chase brody #jackieboy man #dr schneeplestein #jameson jackson #dapper jack #antisepticeye #stacy brody #chase brody's family #dr iplier #the host #the doll maker

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Supposed Fiancé Part 2

Mob AU

Series Masterlist

Al Pacino x reader, Robert De Niro x reader, also including Uma Thurman, Emilia Clarke and Rachel Weisz

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: tmurder, cussing,t talks of sex, someone getting shot

Author’s Note: Dude. I love writing this. I do. I’ve planned out two more parts so it isn’t super long but I really really love it and I really hope that you guys do too!

I’m using the actors to play a role I have created. This is not based off of real life.

(not my gif)

You stumbled out of bed, understanding where you were the second you woke up which was different for you. You slipped on your high heels, cursing yourself for wearing them last night. You walked downstairs and the bar was already in full swing. You must have slept in a lot.

“Heya princess,” Bobby called, gesturing for the bartender to get you a drink. You held up your hand, shaking your head.

“I gotta catch a cab. I’m surprised Al didn’t come shoot you and leave a shitty calling card,” you said.

“Stay for a drink. You slept in, it’s alright five.”

“In the afternoon?”

“Yeah. You must not get a lot of sleep in the casino drug business they got you staying at.” You scoffed and looked out the window before deciding to sit down at the bar behind him. You took the glass the bartender offered.

“I try,” you said. “But thank you again for letting me stay and then not killing me in my sleep.” He chuckled and shrugged.

“I thought about it but I’d have an even bigger target on my head.” You hit his arm and downed the drink quickly.

“You like me. Admit it.”

“If the NYPD can’t break me you sure as shit can’t,” he said. You stood up and hit his back once more.

“Thank you. I’ll be back for a drink when my supposed fiance gets to be too much,” you said. He held up a hand, brushing you off.

“Feel free.”

You walked over to Rachel's house. She didn’t live far from the bar and you knew that she would handle this better than Al. You knocked on her door, a quaint apartment that you wouldn’t expect from someone in her line of work. Either way you were sure that she had a gun stash underneath the bed.

“Where the fuck have you been?” was the first thing she asked you. She ushered you inside. “Al almost sent out everyone to look for you.”

“Don’t tell him I’m here.”

“Where were you?” she asked. Wordlessly she poured you a glass of wine and you took it, ready for your second glass of alcohol. You needed it.

“I was at the bar.”

She slammed her own wine glass down.

“I fucking told him!” She seemed to be elsewhere, thinking about how to deal with Al but then she looked back down at you. “Why did you go there?”

“It was an accident, honest. I just showed up and it was raining. I don’t want to talk about that though, I want to talk about me staying a few nights here. Just in case.”

You knew that Rachel hated her brother. She knew that you knew that. Al hadn’t given her a thing except for a few stacks of cash and a job that she hated. She didn’t like to take lives in cold blood but she was damn good at it. She was just another hitman to her brother. She wasn’t flesh and blood at all.

“He won’t hurt you,” you whispered.

That was the only saving grace. Al would never hurt Rachel. He may not love her but he wouldn’t kill her, not while their father is still around.

“Two nights max.” You nodded.

“I’ll be out of your hair before you know it. You won’t even notice that I’m here, I swear.”

Uma didn’t need to look very far into Bobby to know who he was and what he could do. There was no one in the city who didn’t know the extent of his power around here. He had grown over the years, just underneath Al’s nose. Something that no one had been able to do before.

That being said, she would have trouble finding a good place to kill him. He was often surrounded by people, people that were heavily armed at all times. Not to mention that he would usually have a hospital or doctor at his disposal at all times.

Although Uma didn’t act like she wasn’t in love with any challenge.

She stared at the bar from the cafe across the street. She crossed her legs, watching Bobby as he left. She had been watching him for a few days now and he did this everyday. It was the only thing he did everyday.

He got lunch at the same place every day which was ironic because he did own a bar that sold food. Uma stood up and did her daily follow, just watching to see what kind of security he had around.

She had her gun in her pocket for emergencies but knew that there was no need for it quite yet. Not until she had this whole thing down.

If she made a mistake it would mean her head no matter how skilled she was avoiding men.

Emilia was knee deep in papers. She had found mostly everything she could get her hands on about Al. Old prison time, things he had been released early for, things he was suspected of doing.

She even looked into everything that the locals had said about him. He had been gaining his money mostly from a large casino business he had inherited from his father. He was engaged to you, a past stripper who worked at a place she had busted a husband once. In fact she was fairly sure that she had spoken to you while she questioned people.

Everything was laid out in front of her.

It had all been handed to her in one file that landed on her desk in the middle of the night. She had no heart to wonder who had brought it to her. All she could think about was his hands and the people he had single handedly killed with them.

There were plenty of murders he was connected to by all his friends. In fact, there were over twenty different murders he had been in question for. No arrests had been made on those.

The only thing he ever served any time for was some bogus drug charges. They were weak and he was out within the year.

Nothing seemed to stick with this guy.

Emilia looked up at her wall where everything was hanging up, connected by different strings of yarn.

“Selling drugs out of his casino,” she said under her breath, “murdering people he or his friends disagree with,” she pointed to a few different pictures of dead bodies, their brains over the pavement, “and marrying a stripper he met a year ago.”

She raised an eyebrow at that one.

“Marrying a stripper,” she whispered. She turned to the picture of you on the wall, a smiling picture that was gracious on the amount of clothes you had on in it. She hit your picture with her pen.

“Let’s see what he does at the wedding huh Vis?” she said, looking down at her cat. The cat got up and walked away and she laughed. “You weren’t invited anyway.”

Bobby hadn’t seen you in a couple of days and he had expected you to have left his mind by now. Unfortunately he was finding you a rather worthy distraction.

He was doing his regular things, running the business, changing routine, doing everything he would always do but now he was stuck wondering how on Earth he could get you away from Al. There shouldn’t have been a problem. He had promised himself to stay away from Al until he made the first move.

But here you were, a perfectly almost perfect woman stuck with a guy like him.

He tried to convince himself it wasn’t fate that you showed up at the bar. Maybe you were a mole. He had to think about stuff like that. Maybe you really were in love with the asshole from the casino. It would make sense.

He just couldn’t shake how much he wanted to talk to you. Hold your hips with his hands, share a bottle of bourbon together.

Bobby knew it wasn’t worth getting everyone all worked up about but his feelings weren’t going away.

That much he knew.

You stood outside of the casino. Al walked outside, no security, bold for him.

He pointed at you and you saw him almost reach for his gun but decided against it. There were customers outside. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into the alley way.

“Where the fuck were you?” he yelled. “You think that’s okay? That you have the right to pull a fucking stunt like that? Leave for three days and my sister comes back telling me you stayed a night at the motherfucking bar?” he yelled, pointing at you, shoving you into the wall.

“What’s it to you? I figured you had enough with the prostitutes that crawl around our room that you might forget I fucking existed!” you screamed. He grabbed your arm and held your arm harshly.

“He could have killed you.”

“He didn’t! In fact he tucked me in at night and gave me a kiss baby, how about that one, more of a husband than you.”

“Did you fuck him?”

“No!”

“Did you fuck my sister?” You scoffed, throwing your arms up in the air. He let your arm go.

“No!” You raised a finger to his face. “I was a loyal fucking fiance.”

“Because when we get married you know you get half of my money,” he sneered. You shoved him, annoyed at him insulting your loyalty when it was all that you had. It felt worthless now. It felt wrong. It had always felt wrong where you were standing.

You shoved him again and a bullet landed behind you, making you both jump. You jumped into his arms by accident but he pulled out his gun quick, looking around for where the shot had come from. There was another shot and you felt a sharp pain on your stomach.

“Al,” you whispered and he nodded.

“Sit down baby.”

He sat you down on the ground and pointed the gun at the figure down the alleyway.

“Uma?” he yelled.

“Boss,” she said, walking closer. He scoffed.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

“Protecting you from whoever was shoving you around! Who’s this guy anyway,” she said, pointing to you on the ground. In the darkness of the alley way she didn’t realize that it was anyone she knew. It was then she realized who it was.

“My fucking fiance!” he screamed. “You better get the doctor in the casino or else I’m gonna put two bullets in your neck myself,” he sneered. She nodded , realizing what she had done.

Al kneeled down beside you and grabbed your arm.

“Helps coming.”

You spit on the ground beside you.

“I’ll fucking live.”

Part 3

#robert de niro x reader #mafia au #mob au #al pacino x reader

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oneiriad · 4 years

Note

If lwj were given the power to change one moment in the past, what do you think he would change?

“But why you?”

They look down at the book placed between them on the table. It doesn’t look particularly remarkable. Just another book, to look at it.

Lan Wangji hesitates before answering.

“Perhaps he just brought it as a suitable host gift?” he eventually offers. Even as he utters the words, they sound absurd. Even for one such as their guest, this book - it is far too precious for that.

“Well, he did seem to appreciate the banquet you Lans put together for him. Even if you did empty out our entire stash of Emperor’s Smile just for him.”

Wei Ying pouts and entirely ignores Lan Wangji’s pointed glance at the last jar of wine sitting on the table next to the book.

“By rights, that should have earned me a present. Perhaps he was entertained by watching you get all sweaty trying to lift that staff of his?”

Lan Wangji glares at his husband. There’s no need for Wei Ying to make it sound - like that.

“It would have been rude to turn down the invitation to try. And unwise.”

“Right, of course. Only the best for our guest. The best food, the best entertainment, the nicest bed in the Cloud Recesses...”

“Ridiculous,” he grumbles, trying to ignore the tips of his ears turning pink. Of course it is ridiculous, the things that Wei Ying are implying - their guest isn’t even human!

Of course, that’s really all it takes to have Wei Ying on the floor, laughter peeling like bells. Which, come to think of it, reminds him of earlier that evening, when his Uncle had made some comment about Wei Ying, about demons, and how this had prompted their guest to turn that burning gaze on his husband, making Lan Wangji reach for his sword even knowing that he’d not be able to make a difference if - but then their guest had been the one on the floor, laughing and declaring that he’d seen more evil in a bunny than in this so-called Yiling Patriarch.

Which had been an unspeakable relief.

“Oh, Lan Zhan, you know I don’t mean anything by it. Perhaps he just knows you have the finest calligraphy in all of Gusu? Or he feels a kinship to the Second Jade of the Lan, one rock to another? At the end of the day, why doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“No.”

The why can remain a mystery, truly. Some things - best not to waste too much time pondering them. It will simply earn him a headache.

The why is not important. The what - that’s important.

“So - have you thought about what you’d like to rewrite?” Wei Ying asks, picking up a brush and playing with the soft goat hair.

He has. This offer - “One page,” their guest had said. “One page can be removed and replaced, before I have to take it back. Just make sure nobody can tell the difference.”

He has given it so very much thought.

There are the obvious moments, of course. His mother’s death. The burning of the Cloud Recesses.

Wei Ying’s death.

There are other, less obvious moments. Words that he would have spoken, if he had only known. Lives to save - or perhaps to end.

He finds himself leafing through the book, searching for that obvious point - and yet, there is always something. He wants so very, very badly to spare his husband the horrors of the Burial Mounds, of what he became there - but the horror is this: that the Sunshot Campaign would most likely have been lost without the Yiling Patriarch. Where would they have ended then?

Dead or worse, under the rule of the Wen.

He moves the pages forward, imagines if he had only said, if he had only realized - but each of those wishes would require far more than a single page.

He imagines making it so Wen Qing never found Wei Ying, and immediately hates himself for it. To even contemplate leaving his son and his son beloved uncle to death in the Jin labour camps.

It does not bear thinking of.

He imagines going there with Wei Ying, but the sad thing is - he doubts he would have made enough of a difference. He imagines exposing Jin Guangyao, but if he is honest with himself, the powers arraigned against his love back then are not so easily summed up in a single, scheming mind. All the sects had been scared of this new demonic cultivation.

It is a cruel gift their guest has given him.

“Lan Zhan,” his husband calls. “It’s nine. You should come to bed. I am lonely.”

So he does.

After all, every day is every day.

Afterwards, when his husband is snoring contentedly, he rises and returns to the book, to the maddening promises it whispers. He turns the pages, one by one, searching for the elusive right moment, and yet it escapes him. Eventually, he tries to turn a page and it refuses, sticking to what follows and dragging the rest of the book shut.

He goes back over the parts he can read twice more that night.

Eventually, he makes his decision.

There is a knock in the early morning hours, and their guest is standing outside the jingshi, staff in hand, the feathers on his headband swaying lightly in the morning breeze. He looks like a perfectly ordinary mortal wanderer like this, not even a cultivator, let alone more.

Lan Wangji places the book in his outstretched hand, and watches their guest’s raise his eyebrows.

“No regrets, then?”

“Many. More than I can count, but - yesterday is the price we must pay for today.”

“Very sage-ish of you,” he says, shaking his head sadly as he puts the book into a pouch - but his lips are parted in a grin that reminds Lan Wangji of Wei Ying.

Well, the unusually pointed canines aside.

“Ah, but this is embarrassing,” he exclaims, then scratches behind his ear. “I can’t just leave without thanking you properly for your hospitality, now can I? That’d be - very rude of me.”

“Extremely rude.” Wei Ying’s voice is sleepy. “I’m sure there’s a rule on the Wall of Discipline about being nice to your hosts.”

“Alas, I was never one for reading,” their guest says, taking a step forward and pulling the door closed behind him. “But I am sure, my new friends, that if we try, between us, we can think of something appropriate?”

It is utterly inappropriate. Uncle would be scandalized.

Lan Wangji - is not.

Afterwards, he finds himself drifting towards sleep, nestled between the pair of them. His sleepless night is catching up with him.

“Why?” Wei Ying’s voice is low, his fingers carding idly through Lan Wangji’s hair.

“Perhaps he reminds me of an old friend.”

***

Lan Wangji rises many hours after five.

It is utterly scandalous, really.

Wei Ying is sitting by the desk, a couple of unsatisfactory talismans crumbled around him. Of their guest there is no sign.

“He left us breakfast,” Wei Ying says, pointing at a bowl of peaches that wasn’t in the jingshi yesterday.

They share one between them. It is extraordinarily sweet.

#just - imagine sun wukong as mostly human appearing okay?#mo dao zu shi #I realize that probably wasn't a fic prompt #but I'll take what I can get #don't look at me like that - I imprinted at an early age on that trickster #also wwx reminds me of him

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