#there's no wrong or right answer

[wren-kitchens]

im annoyed and a little pedantic so can i just say as a blanket statement

queerbaiting is when the promotion for a FICTIONAL STORY intentionally hints towards two characters having a romantic relationship, without any intention to follow through in the show, in order to get queer people watching without discouraging the homophobic enjoyers of the show

queerbaiting is NOT:

a celebrity who you think is queer because theyre gnc or they have a 'vibe'. that is a real person and they cannot queerbait

two friends of the same gender pretending to flirt with each other for fun. those are real people and they cannot queerbait

a show with two characters of the same gender who are canonically friends that YOU PERSONALLY think would be better in a relationship. that's not bating, that's shipping, and subject to opinion

there are more but those are the main examples of people misunderstanding what queerbaiting is and being mad at something that isn't actually a problem

#the general rule if youre unsure is to ask yourself 'is that a real person i think is hinting that they are queer' and if the answer is yes #then that cannot be queerbaiting because thats a human person #apparently this is not a known fact anymore but even celebrities are human and have human emotions and human experiences #so sometimes their experiences appear to match yours and if your experience stems from your queer identity then often you can assume that #the celebrity in question is also queer #you may be right but you're probably wrong because you do not know that celebrity and have no way of knowing if they do not explicitly say #also its none of your business #anyway im annoyed at how many people dont know what queerbaiting is anymore #no jimmy solidarity and joel smallishbeans are not queerbaiting because they are FRIENDS and they are allowed to interact with each other #however they like because they are FRIENDS and they are not even remotely trying to hint that they themselves are queer or something #queerbaiting #queer #lgbtq #wren wrambles

[jedi-starbird]

APLAP (Assigned Pathetic Lifeform at Padawanship)

New padawan Obi-Wan trying to figure out how the FUCK to make his master listen and not abandon him to go running off following "the will of the force" when it hits him. Qui-Gon is perfectly happy stopping and taking care of pathetic life forms, but not Obi-Wan. That's it. He's always been prepared, always been dutiful, strong, self-sufficient.

He's cracked the code. He needs to be more pathetic.

The next time he senses Qui-Gon's about to run off he coordinates a scene of utmost pathetic-ness, that is, he throws himself into the nearest fountain. He trudges up to his master sopping wet, water-logged robes swallowing him, with hair sticking to his face and containing bits of algae from the fountain. He mumbles out an apology for being clumsy before looking up at Qui-Gon with the biggest, most woeful eyes possible to ask if he happened to bring any spare robes (he didn't, Obi-Wan knows this because he is usually the one to pack spare robes for them both). His wet hair is dripping water into his eyes that's beginning to turn them an irritated red, and there's algae sliding down the side of his face, it really is masterful work.

"Oh...I'm sure I'll be able to find something by myself, it's okay Master, I know you had important work to do."

Qui-Gon visibly hesitates. Obi-Wan starts shivering. He turns to walk away. He's stopped by his Master's hand on his shoulder. His Master, who walks back with him, who gets clean clothes from their hosts, who has folded like wet flimsi and even explains his stupid, stupid plan before choosing to hotwire a hoverbike with a passenger seat! Oh, Obi-Wan really has cracked the code!

Afterwards, Obi-Wan stages an increasingly pitiful accident for himself every time his patented 'Qui-Gon Jinn Bullshit' detector goes off. Eventually, his Master stops leaving him behind at all, even giving him funny looks when he turns around and Obi-Wan isn’t next to him. It never fails to make Obi-Wan grin and run to catch up. Sure, his reputation as a perfect padawan is in tatters, alongside his dignity, but it’s a small price to pay for a place at his Master’s side, for him to remember there’s a place for Obi-Wan there.

When the ray shields come up on Naboo, Qui-Gon doesn't charge ahead and leave his padawan behind, he hasn't for years. He waits for Obi-Wan because it feels wrong to do otherwise, his padawan belongs at his side.

Much, much later, when Obi-Wan is drinking to the end of the war with friends, Commander Cress will ask him how he kept General Jinn from running off for entire decade. Obi-Wan laughs, informs him, and resolutely ignores the scene Quinlan is making as the man cackles and pulls up a book to shove at them both, titled Classical Conditioning 101: A guide to subtle psychological manipulation.

#obi-wan: you ABANDON padawan? you leave him behind like lost toy? oh! oh! Jail for Master! Jail for Master for One Thousand Years!!!! #14 yr old obi decides the best way to deal with qui gon is to assign himself the mans poor little meow meow and uknow what it fucking works #accidentally stumbling into emotional vulnerability to have a better relationship #he's got the right answer with the wrong equation but we'll take it #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #padawan obi wan #qui gon and obi wan #star wars

[bunnyjesters]

could you maybe draw jax in the swimsuit goose confirmed he would wear //(and maybe throw pomni on his shoulders🥺)//

i had fun with this lol

#kitsch answers ⭐️ #kitsch ⭐️ #tadc #funnybunny #tadc jax #jax x pomni #tadc pomni #the amazing digital circus #itzskindamaging #I ANSWERED THE WRONG ASKER WITH A WIP SO HERES THE RIGHT ONE #beach episode bc i miss the sun

[bet-on-me-13]

Demon Twins AU but Damian meets Ellie first

So! We have the classic Demon Twins AU, where Danny is the Twin brother of Damian. He was left for dead after a mission gone wrong in a snowy wasteland, with lethal wounds that would kill him within an hour. Damian rightfully assumed that he was dead.

Then one day, at a Gala his father was hosting, he seems somebody who looks exactly like Danyal. They have the same eyes, bone structure, many of the same Mannerisms, and all signs point to this being Danyal. He even takes some DNA and runs a test on it after the Gala. It comes up as a 50% Match to his own, the perfect percentage for a Fraternal Twin (which Danny was, they weren't identical)

He realizes that Danyal must have somehow survived his injuries and found his way to a new family, as improbableas it sounds. But there is one small deviation from the Danyal he knew.

The person at the Gala was a Girl.

In Public Record, she is listed as Danielle "Ellie" Masters, the daughter of reclusive Millionare Vladimir Masters. Which was confusing since Vlad claimed to have had a Son before her first Public appearance.

So he comes to the conclusion that Danyal must be Trans, and went through a Transition. He fully supports his new sister, but he does kind of need to contact her to see if she is safe from the League.

Unbeknownst to him, Ellie is a Clone of Danny made by Vlad back during his whole "Supervillain Phase". After he chilled out and became a good guy, she finally accepted him as a parent and let him claim her as a daughter. (They went to a frankly absurd amount of family therapy to reconcile)

Danny is just living his best life back in Amity Park, when Vlad tells him that some Heroes have been sniffing around his Estate and looking into Ellie's past. He just hopes the Fake Identity he made for her will hold up to scrutiny, it's been years since he made one.

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Dc x dp #Dcxdp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Damian Wayne #Danny Fenton #Danny used to be Danyal #Ellie Phantom #Dani Phantom #Danielle Phantom #Damian assumed Danny must be Trans because of all the evidence #In reality it's just Ellie #Maybe Danny is genderfluid? That would be a fun coincidence #Damian used the wrong formula but still got the right Answer #While also answering the wrong question #Bruce is completely out of the loop #Vlad was bragging about Danny being his son before he ever accepted the offer (he never did) #The Fentons saved Danny from his wounds while Backpacking in Europe on a research trip #Their patented Ecto-Bandaids managed to save Danny's life and he got adopted soon after

[peach-pot]

ok my turn

#I’m curious how confident people are in their math because I know the right answer #and I know why people reach the wrong answer but I still know that I’m right #and I wanna know if the people that are getting the same answer as me are confident #and the same of the people getting the other answer #also I simplified it down #cause what we’re really talking about is do you multiple or divide first in this problem #hannah talks sometimes

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

tag yourself im the orange top hat fairy

#theres only one right answer if anyone says anything other than orange top hat youre wrong #dimension 20 #d20 #neverafter

[lgbtlunaverse]

It seems the dash has been talking about the Lan Xichen - Nie Huaisang post-canon dynamics and it's gotten me thinking about how discussion around post-canon Lan Xichen's absolutely horrendous mental state often center around the question of "who is Lan Xichen angry at and who does he feel guilty about" which, at its worst, seperates into 2 camps where according to one side he feels guilty about not protecting jgy and hates the Nies and, on the other side he has completely flipped on jgy and despises him now while being filled with regret towards both nmj and nhs.

And I dislike both of these takes not just because it often feels like people projecting their own Blorbo opinions onto Lan Xichen which is never a fun time but also because that central question is flawed to begin with. It treats anger and guilt like opposing emotions that can't coexist or, if they do, have to compete until one wins and cancels the other out.

And that's not how that... works.

To be clear, the reason why Lan Xichen is so supremely fucked up at the end of the story is that he believes on some level he fucked over everyone in this situation. And, even more importantly, that even with hindsight he can't actually think of what he should have done instead. Every attempt to do better by one seems to involve fucking over the others even more because these people were in conflict with each other and choosing one would mean standing against another

And none of this would actually stop him from feeling angry at any of them. It's not "who is he angry at and who does he feel guilty about" it's: "he is angry at everyone and feels an immediate and bone deep guilt for daring to think badly of them."

Speaking from personal experience here, but feeling like you're not allowed to be angry at someone because you wronged them really doesn't stop the feeling, it just maks you feel like shit for feeling it. And this is all worsened by the fact that what he's in seclusion for is, at the end of the day, a moral question of what he, Lan Xichen, did wrong and every single emotion serves as further proof of the ways he's failed them.

Is he angry at Jin Guangyao, for killing his oldest friend, using Lan xichen's trust in him to do it, and then lying to him about it and countless other things for a decade when Lan Xichen thought of him as the person he trusted the most in the entire world? Yeah. That's a thing people get angry about! Except Jin Guangyao also saved his life and protected and helped him more times than he can count and never ever hurt him and can Lan Xichen say the same? No. He had to clean A-Yao's blood off Shouyue, he has to be haunted by the fact that if he just hadn't listened to Huaisang- hadn't been just like everyone else, in the end, and believed a lie about Jin Guangyao just to think the worst of him- then Jin Guangyao might still be alive.

Is he angry at Huaisang? For orchestrating the death of his best friend? For making him do it? For knowing what the real cause behind Nie Mingjue's death was and never telling him until he found out in the absolute worst way? Absolutely. But didn't Huaisang hide it from him for a reason? Wasn't it his clan's techniques and his personal faith in Jin Guangyao that cost Huaisang his brother? How dare he demand that Huaisang let him in on the secret of his brother's murderer when Lan Xichen is here wondering about how he should have protected that murderer better!

And I do even think he's angry at Nie Mingjue, sometimes I think it's pretty normal to be angry at your friend for kicking your other friend down the stairs and threatening to kill him, even when you know his mind is being poisoned. And years later the last thing he ever saw of Nie Mingjue was Nie Mingjue's thoughtless corpse coming to kill him before Jin Guangyao pushed him away and then proceeded to graphocally snap Jin Guangyao's neck in front of him. And if what he wants to do is protect Jin Guangyao, shouldn't he be mad at Mingjue? Didn't this whole mess start because Jin Guangyao was afraid Nie Mingjue was going to kill him?

Except holy shit, can you imagine? Lan Xichen feels like he personally has Nie Mingjue's blood on his hands. Your oldest friend is killed in front of you and you happily believe it's an accident for 11 years and now you think you have the right to be mad at him? You watched him get worse as he was being poisoned and attributed it to his illness and not to the techniques stolen from your library with the token you give his murderer. Does he think Nie Mingjue knew who he was in that moment and wanted to kill him? That he blamed Lan Xichen for his death? (For the record, I don't. I don't agree with most of what Lan Xichen thinks about himself, but I've been in a self-blame spiral and I know how it feels)

But what was he supposed to do then? Choose Mingjue's side and let A-Yao die? That's also unacceptable. But so is letting Jin Guangyao get away with it. Every single outcome is unacceptable. And really, if Jin Guangyao felt like he had to kill Nie Mingjue to save himself, when it was Lan Xichen who was supposed to keep the peace between them, isn't that another mark of his failure? That he couldn't protect Jin Guangyao well enough that he felt he had to do something so horrible?

But that's not an answer! He's supposed to know what he should have done different, and all he can come up with is "what you were already doing, but without failing this time" He can't pick a side because that means betrayal, but he's already tried not picking a side and it ended like this! There is no right answer, which can only leave him with the idea that he was simply doomed to hurt the people he loved from the start. No wonder the guy looks like shit when we see him post-canon. They put him in a real life trolley problem and gave him the lever as a souvenir.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #lan xichen #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie mingjue #personally i LOVE high stakes ethical dilemma tragedies where there's not a clear right or wrong #and i can enjoy them without picking a side because it's fiction to me and i can admire the complex web of love hurt and betrayal from afar #but this is lan xichen's actual life. he HAS to have an answer to this question in a way I don't #but there isn't one

[hum--hallelujah]

#she speaks! #there is no right or wrong answer here their openers are all insane to me #fob #fall out boy

[hellenhighwater]

huge shoutout to rejection sensitive dysphoria and the attorney who mentioned that I'd misspelled "forfeiture" in my notes, ensuring that I will literally never misspell that word ever again. Thanks, it's just what I needed. I would have rather been shot, but this works also.

#i am not even being slightly sarcastic #someone pointing out a minor inconsequential error like that will 1. be remembered for the rest of my life #and 2. ensure that I always ALWAYS remember the right way to do it #i usually have very good spelling and it drives me CRAZY when im wrong #so for 'forfeiture #which i always overthink and then misspell #it's either an unrequested out-loud correction of my spelling #or I have to use it as a computer password until the correct spelling is embedded in my hands #also shoutout to Sargon of the Akkad #who is the correct answer to a history trivia game I got wrong in fifth grade #cool how i will absolutely never forget that hes the first known emperor #despite the fact that i will literally never need to know that again

[canisalbus]

To me, Machete kind of has the energy of a secondary villain/coldhearted side character in someone else's story that a lot of fans latch onto, moreso than the protagonist. Question is, would he be the villain in anyone's story?

Why, thank you! I'm actually glad to hear he gives off that vibe. I don't think he set out to become a villain but a lot of people certainly view him as one.

#in the 16th century canon he starts out as an introverted but sincerely well meaning guy that never quite manages to find his social niche #he was a sensitive kid and when subjected to enough pressure #his insecurity fearfulness and powerlessness mutate into distrust resentment aggression suffocating repression and self-restraint #I don't think he's a bad person in fact he consistently tries very hard to do the right thing #do his job properly avoid letting people down and get through life with a sense of dignity #but he is supposed to come across kind of cold impersonable and difficult to be around if you don't know him personally (and very few do) #people can sense there's something wrong with him and are put off by it #Vatican is a nest of vipers and as the stakes rise he retreats deeper into his coldblooded untouchable work persona #he has no choice but to start lying scheming blackmailing and eliminating his enemies #in order to maintain his position keep Vasco safe their relationship under wraps and his own head above water #essentially playing by the same rules everyone else in the holy see has been playing with for centuries #eventually he loses his spot as the secretary of state and is manipulated/forced to take on a role in the roman inquisition #and if people were sort of iffy about him before being the authority overseeing trials torture excommunications and executions doesn't help #and since he has so few allies and such an infamous reputation he's an easy target for scapegoating whenever necessary #towards the end it dawns on him that he's become the kind of twisted cruel corrupt person he used to fear and despise #and the guilt moral injury and abject self-loathing had largely sapped him of his will to live by the time the final assassin gets him #answered #anonymous #Machete #Vaschete lore #he thought his dream of priesthood would make him a better person more worthy of admiration safety and love but he climbed too high #and got roped up in the dangerous games that take place under god's nose and slowly got strangled to death

[zevranunderstander]

#i guess it wouldnt matter if they can use knives or not #da #dragon age #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #zevran #astarion #dao #dragon age origins #i dont think there is an objectively right or wrong answer to this one #poll

[lesbians-4-shivroy]

I'm tryna see something 😎

#There's no right answer but there is a wrong one #six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #wesper #matthias helvar #nina zenik #helnik #six of crows duology #crooked kingdom #soc #ck #the grishaverse #leigh bargudo #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone show

[pilferingapples]

Just a very silly yet contentious question today:

#there is no single Right Answer #there IS a Wrong Answer #DEFEND YOUR THESIS IN THE NOTES #Les Mis

[armoralor]

Emily Swallow’s face when d*nbo shippers in the crowd started yelling at Katee Sackhoff for saying Bo-Katan Kryze and Din Djarin have "no romantic undertones:"

Please don’t harass actors. Katee has been humoring inappropriate questions about a fictional romance for MONTHS. She has made jokes and played along to diffused awkward fan situations; ship what you want online but please don't bother actors with it (image from a different angle of this panel).

#Katee joking about having a good rapport with Brendan Wayne on set while filming does not give you the right to tell the professional actor #who has been playing this character for a decade that *they* are wrong in how they interpreted the scene THEY ACTED IN JFC #no means no. move on. you don't need the actor's blessing to ship something. go have fun by yourself and stop trying to get actors to agree #with you headcanons. if actors choose to talk about it or take part in fandom shipping discourse themselves- great. but DO NOT harrass them #for the answers you want and get mad when they disagree with you. fucking wild. #din djarin #bo-katan kryze #bo katan kryze #the armorer #the mandalorian

[hcdragonwrites]

Tangled Love

(A @semisolidmind Drabble)

Ok! I ran this by Semi before I posted just because I know absolutely nothing about LMK (except the animation can be so pretty!) just so I could get their characters down. I hope you all like it !

She just wanted to escape- both from this place and from her own mind tonight.

The ghosts of memories were walking and she had no distractions to chase them away.

Peaches walked the cool cavern halls of Water- Curtain Cave, her feet echoing in the depths. The sandals she wore and the ornamental clothing she had been thrown into made her scalp prickle and her skin itch. It was too much- but the attendants wouldn’t hear a thing about it.

She had to look the part of Queen.

Peaches, in the absence of the Lord of the mountain and his right hand and sword, was the remaining voice of authority.

To a point.

Finishing with courtly duties and listening in on behalf of her husbands wasn't a huge chore. The two of them rarely left at the same time however. If one was called away the other would remain. Or Peaches herself would be brought along.

This time however she hadn’t been.

It was the first time in ten years.

She had just this night- just this moment of reprieve and she would make the most of it. Or so she thought. Instead, she was fighting something that reared its head and struck her nerves like a asp.

However she wasn’t alone quite yet. As she rounded the corner and came to golden lacquered doors of her bedchamber - their bedchamber- she paused.

“Will that be all my queen?” One of the attending retinue of her guard asked. It was a guard her husbands insisted upon whenever both were away from home- a set of seven of the most battle scarred simians Peaches had ever seen.

They were tasked and sworn with following her everywhere - to the dining hall, to the throne room. If she wished to go and sit among the apple trees and listen to the wind play over the mountain grasses her guard would double in size. Peaches tried to not cause the denizens of Flower fruit mountain any more problems or stressors by going outside when both the King and his Brother in arms were away on a war path.

Her husbands.

It’s what they titled themselves now, after a decade of the terrible start they had on their relationship with her. When she had met the two, they had been just tiny monkeys. A sly looking ginger and gold monkey who had loved to cling to her arms and a dark black furred monkey that brought her fruits and almonds from the wild.

My sweet boys.

They had been her monkeys back then- the little prankster angels she had thought were just simple beasts, trying to survive out in the world.

She had been wrong.

The decision to upend her life, she guessed, had been floated around for months between the two disguised demons as they ate her fruit and enjoyed her touches. It was a mutual one that both had decided was the best option for her.

She took a steadying breath, coming back to the present. Peaches wanted a chance to be alone. Something so rare she craved it like a man in a desert craved water.

“Yes, general. I think I’ll retire early for the day.” She smiled at the monkey who dipped his body into a bow. The gleam of his armor set the flickers of a memory brewing. Fire in the trees, the smell of iron on the wind and a figure among the debris. She shook her head to dislodge it. The rest of them weren’t awful to her. Her husbands weren’t awful to her. They had just ….

Taken away her decisions.

“Very well Queen.” Peaches flinched, unable to quite stomach the title and what that truly meant. If I am queen then why am I without choices? “If you need us call us.”

She turned the handle in the door and slipped in side with as much grace as she could muster.

Peaches closed the ornamental doors to the bedroom, resting her head against the door. Steady. Deep breaths. In through her nose out through her mouth.

The illusion of a paradise that Wukong had built and Macaque helped facilitate always lost its color and believability when they were away. They couldn’t feed her the sugared lies and candied perceptions to tamp back the memories of that night.

It had been just another night on the small farm - a June night of heat and singing cicadas- of windows wide open and Peaches trying to escape that heat. There wasn’t much she could do to escape it. The moisture clung to her and made her bedding stick and clog her nose. So on these nights she stayed up, usually with a candle or the moon to illuminate her night, and read.

The knock on the door was not something typical.

The memory was rising and she couldn’t hold it back. I have to ride it out. Survive it.

Like she had survived that night. Getting visitors in the dead of the night had been unconventional- and she remembered the feeling of being perturbed. Don’t answer it, she told the memory. But this was the past and ghosts of the past didn’t change their course.

She had closed her book, had stepped down the hall to the door and had opened it.

I should have called through- told him to stay away! I should have never left my bed or my book.

It was a drunk man. A fellow farm hand called in for one of the families to help bring in a harvest that had proved too bountiful for the immediate family to handle. Peaches could see the man before her eyes, smell the reek of him.

A drunk.

“Well ain’t it the village spinster! Whaaa da pretty thing you are!” He was a cloud of bitter rice wine, of too much sake on his breath. The intensity of it had a physical effect on her memory and in the present, Peaches wrinkled her nose.

“You should go home Sir.” She had told him- tried to close the door.

His foot moved faster and his hands had caught the door.

A wild set of emotions swept through her. She had to sit her body down, thankful she had been able to get away from the other monkeys before the memory seized her like a vice. They would have been in a panic over her and she couldn’t let their little hearts worry so. There was nothing they could do to stop the remembering.

It was his fault this all happened. It was His. He didn’t have to be drunk and show up at my home- he didn’t have to shove his way into my house and try and grab me.

But he was just a single man. Did his actions warrant the destruction that happened next ?

“Get out!” Her memory self cried. The wooden table she danced behind as the drunk stumbled and moved towards her, was her only shield.

“The Boys Said you prefer the company of wild animals …” his speech was hard to hear. The wine had made him bold, stupid, and aroused it seemed. “I thought I would give you mtaste of what a real man was, since the villagers are al’ ‘fraid of your Witchery with monkeys.”

She had run- she had thrown her things at him. It was probably the commotion of her breaking a pitcher over his head that had alerted her monkeys. The loud clatter of the pottery across the floor had sounded so sharp and final. It had only made the man more determined.

The drunk when he did get his hands on her was furious. He swung a fist and sent stars into her eyes. Peaches had clung like a wildcat to her conscious, kicking out with legs and swinging with fists. Her nose was full of the sour smell of him- had felt his hands and fought them. A kick to his groin had sent him wheezing. Another fist to her head had Peaches crying. She had stared that drunk in his mean little eyes as he whispered the terrible things he wanted to do to her.

She had been staring in those eyes when he died.

He never got to touch more than her arms that night.

Peaches heard something step through the door that had been left open to the night. She had heard the creak of her house as something walked within it. And the sound of something- like a water skin being popped and a splash of warm liquid against her belly had shocked her.

The Drunks eyes went wide with confusion, rolling horselike in his head. His bruising grip on her wrist had let go. In the present, She rubbed those wrists, the phantom pains hard.

“..mah… belly.” The drunk had mumbled then belched a bucket of blood onto the floor. Peaches could see something protruding from his middle- something long and thin like a stick. Or a staff.

Clawed hands pulled the head back and twisted with a fury. The sound of bones breaking was loud, as if a fire was consuming dry wood. The drunk crumbled in those hands like a puppet cut free of its strings.

A new stranger stood in her home, his frame large and broad and most assuredly not human. He tossed the body like someone would toss a rag across the floor. The glowing eyes in the sudden dark were all she could see. Her mind, even in its heightened adrenaline drenched state, recognized the face pattern, saw a familiarity in the fur. There was, in fact, still a little flower tucked against this demonic creatures ear. The same flower she had interwoven in her forest friend's fur that afternoon.

“Your… your my…”

Nerves and the come down from the adrenaline high we’re making speech hard. The monkey demon before her, who’s eyes seemed to spit fire, softened. Just a bit.

“You are my Peaches.” Wukong said, touching her hair, her face, her hands. Taking stock. Then he had taken those limp hands and threaded them through his fur, trying to get them to grip. It would help his own rage and calm her fear. It was thick in the air, ruining the natural sweet smell she had. That and the slab of flesh on the floors own fetid death scent.

Wukong was not the best at this - this comfort thing. But he would rise to the occasion. He would try for her.

Fury and rage made his tail lash and the fur along his neck to stand on end.

At first she had just been a simple human that would leave little offerings to him and his brother in arms. An oddity here in the shadow of his mountain. Most humans around here feared the monkeys and kept away from all of them, having a legend that if one was harmed a great calamity would befall them.

Wukong didn’t mind being that calamity. These were his people, his subjects. So hearing the chatter from some of his kind that a women had begun to leave out gifts had of course spiked the Kings curiosity. The humans beneath Flower Fruit Mountain were his lesser subjects. So he had come down from the mountain, disguising himself as a smaller and more approachable sized monkey, to see the fuss his subjects had started gossiping about at groomings. Only to see his brother, Macaque, already being petted and tended and kissed on each of his six ears.

Of course first impressions had been terrible and Wukong, used to getting the first pick of everything, had come screeching into the clearing and demanding his own pets. It had set off a very small and very mock little battle between the two brothers in arms. One that had Peaches separating them and scolding them as she patched up the little scratches they had taken from eachother. They could have each resisted her pull but both decided that play acting a fight, even if it had started as a bit of one, was the best way to get attention divided between the both of them.

Wukong hadn’t expected to become infatuated. Her name didn’t matter to him- he had rebranded her almost the instant she came to him and offered a smile and held out a handful of sugar and dates. Peaches. After the Kings own favorite fruit, the sweetest thing the mountain produced.

His Peaches.

Of course also Macaques. He shared everything with his brother, the dark furred and six eared demon who had faced battles and won wars besides Wukong. While Wukong had been more leery, Peaches won him over faster than Flower Wine loosened his rigid posture. They had both fallen for this mortal women. And, in the traditional way she belonged to them. She just didn’t know it yet. They had touched and groomed and cuddled and tangled limbs and tails. They were practically married without the marriage bit.

Wukong rubbed small circles into Peaches back, trying to keep himself from bearing his teeth in rage.

I should have taken her home the moment she kissed me.

They had been kisses of the kind one gives to a friend or pet. It had left the warlord craving more burning with more.

Of wanting to feel her give him more than just a chaste kiss on the side of his face.

She wouldn’t have been hurt if he had just taken her home.

Wukong and Macaque had taken to one or both spending the night in Peaches trees, to keep an eye on her. Wukongs obsession had grown into a fascination and warm buttery love. A love that was becoming a wild inferno as he fought to stay still and not leap upon the corpse he had made and turn it into nothing but bits of flesh and gore the crows could carry away.

His Peaches fingers finally grasped his fur and shook. It brought Wukong back from his montage of rage to the present. If only Mac was here — but he wasn’t. He was back at home on Flower Fruit mountain , giving his brother the night to enjoy and keep lookout at Peaches den.

“That’s my girl.” The demon tried to soothe. He really wished he could set Peaches down and finish off what he had started. This place had been bad. This village terrible. He hated every thing and one here that had dared to let a drunken fool up to his Peaches doorstep and allowed this to happen. In reality Wukong was mad it had been Mac’s own sense of importance on taking it slow and letting a little thing like a life outside of Flower Fruit Mountain stop him from from revealing who he was and taking her home.

I am done trying to woo her over slowly. They could have lost her this night if Wukong hadn’t been in earshot, hadn’t heard the crash of something breaking. His clawed hands wrapped around her back and beneath her legs. Before he could realize it, Wukong had her up and in his arms, already stepping on and across the corpse and out into the June air. Mine.

“Let’s get you home, lovely.” Wukongs voice was thick with emotion. Relief to finally, finally, finally have an excuse to take his wife home, to see her sleep in a real bed and eat real food made his heart swell. No more pretending. No more longing. It was happening now. Simmering beneath that emotion was the sweet bubble, the red misting rage, of violence. Once he got her home, got her safe, got her tangled within some of his and Macaques blankets to where the sour smell of fear would be lost within the scent of them- he could come back. He would come back.

He would destroy the village for being the obstacle it was in his conquest for this mortal girls heart. It was in itself, a relief to know he was justified in its destruction.

Look what this place did to bruise my sweet fruit.

Peaches was shaking. Clinging to him. I would have her cling to me always. He pressed his nose into her neck, breathing in as he walked off. She smelled so good. He rubbed his face to hers, affectionately smothering her fear scent. Wukong felt a smile curl his face. Finally. We can go home and put the charade to bed. Finally you are mine.

Peaches' memory of that night was mostly of clinging to Wukong as they flew through the air, of his voice a rumble of soft words and comforts. He was holding her close, pressing her in. Smothering her in a sense. But she needed it. She clung to it in a way to stop herself from being sick from fright. It was strange but familiar to hold this fur, to cling. Then she briefly remembered another voice, another set of hands. When she looked up and saw that her sweet dark monkey was also here, had also been a demon in disguise, something broke in her. Maybe hysteria. Maybe disbelief. Or maybe she knew, somewhere in her mind, that no matter what she said now wouldn’t save the people- the innocents- in her village.

Peaches had been transferred into the dark arms and THATS where she finally began to cry. The shock was fading and leaving behind ragged holes of emotion.

“Safe, you're safe now.” She was reassured. Hands had lifted her chin, her sweet little monkey- now a demonic one- was gently beginning to sponge away the blood from the cuts on her face. Her cheek swelled, her eye with it.

“Please don’t kill them.” She begged. “He already took care of the one who hurt me don’t kill my village.”

“Hush love…”

“Please!”

Silence. Something cold pressed to her face- a bit of snow from far up the mountain wrapped in cloth. Macaques ears twitched like flower petals in the night air.

“It’s already done. The village is already gone.”

The memory rode itself out in the present and faded slowly.

Guilt washed over her and she cried all for a new reason. She had been the catalyst for Sun Wukongs fury. She had been the decider to his want of destruction. Peaches may not have killed them, may have had a decade to realize that what had happened wasn’t her fault, but Wukong had done it in her name. He had erased that village and all its people like a cartographer reshapes a map. To all the rest of the world, their had never been a village in the shadow of Flower fruit mountain. Not a foundation, not a brick, not even a spare hair, was left of humanity there. Instead it had been cleared as if a fire had swept through. Peaches had seen it on one occasion when Wukong had been persuaded to show her. She had needed closure. Needed the peace.

Once she had healed she had been told her village was gone. She had been given a sweet lie- that Wukong had gone back and the villagers related to the drunk had been ransacking her house to see where she kept the money or any spare wine.

When Wukong had shown up demanding they answer to the crime committed in her home, they had attacked. Wukong had enacted a king's justice as was his right. He had told the remaining villagers to leave- to never set foot upon his domain again for the lawlessness that had been enacted upon their neighbor.

It had taken two years for her to be able to relax whenever he came in smelling of fire and iron. It had taken a few years more for her to remember what Macaque had said when he had pressed snow to her face.

They were the same little monkeys they had been before. But now they had less innocence when they pressed into her face for kisses, when they asked to tangle and cuddle limbs. They insisted she stay in the bedchamber and not move to her own separate room.

It had taken getting used to movement beside her as a hand tugged her hair, or a tale twined her waist. Or a leg curled with hers or hands holding her face. Sometimes in the dark Mac would press his head to her back, using her as a pillow. Wukong would yank her in when he thought her too sleepy to remember and whisper all the things he loved about her.

It would have been sweet. It was touching in a way. If not for the way they revealed themselves. If not for that memory and what she knew now had come after.

It had not taken too long after that for her to start realizing that, though Wukong had saved her, neither of them had any regret of what happened. Neither of them was going to let her go.

When she asked about it or started talking of missing her home- the simple living, the ability to really on herself and choose for herself- Wukong would laugh and launch into one of his tales. He would brush her hair with his claws, run his face against hers and try and deflect her attention to new things.

Macaque, if Wukong was absent, would let her talk. Usually it happened when he asked her to brush his fur or he in turn asked to brush her hair. Peaches thought, just a bit, that the reason Mac was better at listening was for all the ears he had. Each time however, when she got to the part about how this had been her fault, he would stop mid way through a braid or pin and pull her in. Macaque would kiss the tears from her eyes, would press himself close to her chest.

“It was Never your fault Peaches.”

“I remember. I remember he went back- you said he—“

“Hush love you’ll grow hysterical. What Wukong did was justified- he defended you.”

“He killed.”

“I have killed.” He kissed her temple, gentle in his reprimands. He wouldn’t try and brush her words beneath a rug like Wukong. Instead he gave her a smile as wide as the crescent moon. “Let’s finish your hair and get you dressed. We can go see the baby’s, I know how you love the baby’s.” Baby monkeys were her weakness. They had been what led to her loving Mac before she had known he was a demonic warlord.

Peaches rubbed at her eyes and stood, the sorrow in her heart heavy still but the tears at least had stopped. Now she was just tired. Tired and cold and wanting to escape the feeling of it all. So she shed her courtly attire. All the clips and jewels and baubles and bits felt heavy. She placed them within the box at her armoire, then loosened her hair from its bindings. Jade pins, pearl necklaces, golden bracelets with bells of silver (Wukong loved this the best of all) all glimmered back in the firelight.

A pretty price.

She snapped the box closed.

On nights like this, she wanted to wear nothing but her smock, her simple clothing, and bury herself as far as she could go into the bed she shared with her husbands.

It was more of a pit set into the ground, circular in nature. Silken pillows, red sheets and a hoard of anything plush and furred had been thrown into the pit. It was also a snug place to bury herself within and one of the few things she didn’t feel resentment too right away. When the outside felt too bright and she couldn’t go about the mountain to her usual quiet places, she would retire here. To burrow, to bury, to hide.

Peach fell back into the pit of blankets and pillows and pulled herself beneath a fur of some striped monster Macaque had skinned and gifted to her. Tonight the bitter truth was hard to swallow and did circles in her head.

You did this. You caused this. You killed them. This is your fault.

She closed her eyes and hoped … hoped for what might be the worst thing yet. Her husband's return.

A time later she stirred. Something was in her room- was walking to the bed. Peaches felt a flutter of fear before hands reached into her hiding place and simply slid her out.

“Hello darling.” The silken voice belonged to none other than Macaque. His clawed hands entwined around her waist, his teeth nipping at her ear. “You are up late.”

“Does that mean it will be a late morning?” Wukongs voice came from the other side of the room. Peaches could see the ginger monkey removing armor from his shoulders and stretching. As the darker brother kept making a snack of her shoulder, Peaches noticed that the shine of Wukongs paldrom was dimmed. Something black coated the golden imprint of sunbursts across its armored surface. “I love late mornings! Means more time together.”

Blood?

“Peaches?” She turned her head, trying to see Mac. He had left off nipping her skin. A hand came away from her wrist and tipped her chin, forcing her to stare directly into his violet eyes. “What has upset you?”

Everything. Myself. Wukong. You. It was that simple question that set her sorrow to flowing again. She was confused, upset, and she wanted comfort. The only ones who could give her comfort were the very ones who caused her distress.

A vicious cycle.

The pillows behind her sagged. Wukongs hands were more aggressive in their touches, turning her about to stare into her face. He noted the tears, the bruising beneath her eyes. His lip curled in anger.

“Has someone upset you?” Wukong asked. He seemed ready to stand again, to grab his armor and step out into the night. “I will drag them here to give an apology. You name them and I will fetch them.”

Peaches shook her head.

“Just ….” You killing the villagers, Macaque telling me plainly that it was for the best, and my own head making me relive that night of events. Over and over and over.

“…. Myself.”

His face softened as he chirped a reassurance, pressing his nose to hers. Macaque peppered her in gentle and butterfly soft kisses to the back of her neck. The three fell back into the nest, limbs entwined and hands holding. Macaque had Peaches face buried in his chest as she sobbed silently. He cooed. He whispered how everything would be right as rain in the morning. His hands ran through her hair and messaged her scalp. Wukong held his Peaches, pressing her back to his chest in a solid wall against the world outside. He lavished her in praises and compliments, sometimes getting carried away and talking about himself until his brother would remind him with a flick to his forehead that it was their Peaches he should be reassuring.

And through it all, through this twisted and tangled weave of limbs and fur and warmth and sorrow, Peaches felt love. It grew in this dark place still, wanting to thrive. But how could it?

Still she fell asleep, lashes sparkled with tears and her heart lighter. One could only be sad so long in the wake of such waves of attention. Wukongs and Macaques love was the only solution to this ailment they had inflicted upon her, and she, the addict, swallowing the medicine that would give her release.

#hcwrites #writing stuff #twice as bad AU #semisolid #bad end wukong #ALRIGHT I DID IT. #yes I wrote this in a dayish between work and my other writing #I haven’t done this much work in a long time and I was so nervous I would get this pairing wrong #bad monkey boys #they made a whole tangled mess of this situation. #they sweet but stinky #sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #six eared macaque #I based this off a idea and answer Semi gave in one of their blog posts #was I lurking? yes. Because there stuff also has a vice grip on my mind #I Dont know much about LMK so getting this Macaque down right took a bit of work so I didn’t mess up the vibe. #i am so jelly of the nest pit pls I would dive into that like a child into a ball pit #jttw tag #lmk #it think I’m tagging that right ? #I have a weakness for big possessive grumps loving their sunshine wives #six eared macaque x reader #hcfanfics

[pinkeoni]

How fucked up would it be if we got the byler confession + kiss, there is this super happy moment where they are both in disbelief and we get a beautiful display of love and joy, and then shortly after we get a huge bombshell regarding Will and his connection to Vecna, and at first it seems like to only way to end everything is a sacrifice from Will.

And Will just thinks it’s tragically funny. Of course it was too good to be true. Of course he wasn’t going to live long anyways. Of course he wasn’t going to get the future. Hasn’t this been his fate the whole time? Why put it off any longer?

AND THEN we get Will at a crossroads. Will has to decide if he sacrifices himself for everyone else, or if he tries to fight for himself? Should I stay or should I go? And who better to convince him to stay, to fight, to keep going, othan than his heart?

#of course will shouldnt decide to stay just because of mike #but rather mike is a strong supporter that guides will towards the right answer #also its probably likely that will sacrificing himself is actually the wrong choice but no one knows that #so the answer is for will to live and fight for himself #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things #will byers has powers #stranger things 5 prediction