x o

inactive.

[rosarrie]

some stars

[nebulations]

[ID: Animated art in black and white of two multi-point stars. The one on the left is black and contains a white heart in the center. The one on the right is a white sun that blinks and smiles. Both the stars waver slightly and emit small particles like they're radiating. End ID]

[sageshadowed]

[sixthear]

Liu'er falls quiet for a long moment. Still crying, just a little bit, but they've never really been someone to cry loudly. They hoped they won't feel like this forever—

(Like somehow a part of the Lion is still with them, even now. Bits of living shadow still clinging to that fragile, fractured thing inside them. Waiting within their worst dreams and the memories that are far too close to the surface for comfort. Like they'll crack and shatter if they look too closely. And that they'll just keep hurting and being hurt; even if the lion isn't there, that they'll always feel like they don't belong anywhere, not even inside their own body.)

But that's foolish, wishful thinking. And thinking foolishly is how everything fell apart so horribly to begin with. They take a deep breath, small hands twisting in the fabric of Macaque's shirt.

Then they think, again, of the memories that don't belong to them. Thinks about how horrible the color blue is— no. They very quickly shove that down. Then their mind flits over a more recent memory. One with colorful fireworks and peeled fruit and laughter and smiles. "...hasn't there been new things for you, too?" They finally whisper, shifting their head just barely enough to peek up at Macaque.

"We... are both still here, aren't we?" Neither of their stories were supposed to continue. And yet.

[sageshadowed]

He breathes in slowly, breathes out, gets a hold on himself. "We're here," he says, doesn't answer the first question, too intent on holding onto his own misery in this moment to consider an alternative.

(Later, when he can touch the concept of being okay again, he'll think of Liu'er peeling tangerines with intense, quiet focus, or of Nezha talking into the air downstairs expecting him to answer, or of his partner (partner!) grinning—an expression he hasn't seen on his face in who knows how long, especially looking at him—and he'll hold onto it as hard as he can.)

He keeps stroking Liu'er's hair, fingers threading through the longer fur at the back of his head, and closes his eyes. Does his best to stave off his grief and self-hatred by focusing on Liu'er in his arms. Makes a halfhearted guess at how far off his migraine's gonna be—he'll just have to cope with it for however long Liu'er sticks around. Tries to gauge how upset they are, listening to their rabbit-fast frightened heartbeat, slowing as they breathe deeper.

"You wanna stick around for the afternoon? I got a puzzle if it'll take your mind off things," he says, when it seems like he's calmed down a bit. It's a nice big one, of gibbons playing; Macaque just thought the art was cute and picked it up, but he's never touched it. "Though, uh, Nezha might come home at some point; dunno where he is."

[sixthear]

Liu'er whines, burying their face against Macaque's shirt. Small hands holding onto him tightly back. This close, the other's heartbeat sounds so loud. But it's something else to focus on. The sounds of breathing. The evening bugs outside. The feeling of being held so tightly by the other monkey.

There is, distantly, a part of themself that recognizes that Macaque isn't wrong. The quiet firmness reminds them, almost, of Shihou, and how he never once thought to blame Liu'er. He could've. He should've whispers another part of themself. They miss Shihou. They miss home. They—

It doesn't feel like they have the right to.

"I'm sorry, too." they whisper back, after a long moment. They're not even sure what they're apologizing for. Everything? This? Or maybe he says it because he just doesn't know what to say, and there's still that part of him that's stuck going in circles.

"Does... It get easier?" Continuing to exist? Dealing with the weight of everything?

[sageshadowed]

"I don't know," he says, something in him aching; something in you is deeply fucking dangerous; you will never stop being angry; you will never learn to control it, and some part of him doesn't want to, because his fury keeps him safe. "Some things. Sometimes." And some things will always hurt to brush up against, however lightly, in his memory.

(and isn't he pathetic, to just keep coming back for more? didn't his story end then, all those centuries ago? and ever since there's been nothing else. nothing but this untouchable fucking grief.)

"And you're still growing," he whispers, though it breaks his own selfish heart. Still holding the younger Liu'er. "There will always be new things, for you."

but i'm too old for that.

[sixthear]

That— he really should've figured that's how that fight ended. Even though Macaque seemed to still be breathing in Wukong's memory — it was just barely. There was so much blood. The afterimage sticks in his mind just like—

He's definitely crying. But at least with his face covered still, Macaque can't see it. Macaque doesn't know, so of course he'd say that. His chest hurts, but he doesn't know if that's because he was literally tearing off pieces of his soul to feed a horrible demon, or from the sheer fact he just feels too much all the time (especially right now), or from—

"The— the mountain was on fire. I did that, too. Everything I did was bad. I—" The lion was always whispering in his ears but he was still him while doing most of the things he did. All twisted up and horrible but still him. Wasn't it? Or. Or was he already gone, even then, the moment he gave away that first part of himself—

He knows the answer. He doesn't know how to explain. He wants to. Shouldn't he? "When it becomes unbearable, give me a piece of your heart. I will take your pain away, and you will become stronger— The lion... I let him use me, so it's..." It's all his fault. Isn't it?

He shifts a little bit, looking up at Macaque with wide, wet eyes. "The lion wasn't gonna stop unless Shihou killed me."

[sageshadowed]

He goes completely, incredibly still at that last.

Wordlessly, Macaque collects the younger Liu'er in his arms again, tears and all, and holds him tight. He's cold, uncannily so, despite the summer heat. Makes sense once you know he's a ghost.

"It's not your fault," he says, again. Doesn't know how else to convince Liu'er of it. "It's not. You wouldn't have, if it was just yourself."

Wasn't gonna stop. Macaque feels ill. Remembers staring up, begging through the blood in his mouth, stop, please, don't—don't, don't, wukong please, and it wasn't a prayer, not that any god would've been listening not that the gods ever listened to him not that it mattered not that it wasn't already too fucking late.

Macaque closes his eyes and opens them again and shoves the memory away. He just needs to hang on a little bit longer, for Liu'er—though the kid can probably hear his heartbeat pick up at his own memory. He whispers, "I'm sorry."

[sixthear]

Liu'er gives a full-bodied twitch, but otherwise doesn't move away. Somewhat focuses on Macaque cleaning up the bits of fruit. It distracts them, a little bit, from his racing thoughts and even what Macaque is saying. Their face goes a somewhat blank, as they struggle to respond. Was he... going to eat that squished plum later? Well, better than letting it go to waste...

They blink, mouth twisting as they shift their focus back to what Macaque is saying. Their brows furrow in confusion, but they take a moment to breathe deeply anyways. They still feel-- jittery. Tensed and all wound up like a spring about to snap. Are they supposed to feel better?

They scratch at the back of their hands, frowning, and think; that's not true. He knows that Shihou would've listened, too, if he had just talked to him. Before the lion started whispering in their ear, the day the deer placed his hand on their shoulder, before Shihou left. They should've; yet, they didn't.

"But... but I did do the bad things. Really, really bad things, Mihou!" Another breath. Right. Breathing is important. But it's hard. They keep seeing Shihou's face, battered and bloody, instead of Macaque's. They keep hearing Shihou's actual pained scream when they-- and the lion-- struck him with lightning. The scent of burnt clothes and fur and flesh.

They bare their fangs in a half-grimace, half-snarl at the vivid memory. But the flash of anger isn't directed at anyone but himself, really, and quickly drains away. He sniffs wetly, rubbing at his face as he curls into tight little ball. Tries to hide his face behind his arms.

"I tried to kill him." He finally chokes out, barely above a whisper. If it's what we do with out impulses that matter, then what does that make him? It shouldn't matter that it was the lion in control at the end-- it was still his hands and his magic that was hurting so many people. Hurting Shihou.

[sageshadowed]

"And Wukong—mine—he killed me," Macaque says. Almost spits it; has to tone his voice down, remembering who he's talking to. There. Fuck. He hates saying that. Can count the number of times he's said it on one hand, and he hasn't got fingers. "And he's not—the worst ever, right?"

tiān'a, Wukong has to pay him back for having to say that aloud. Not that he doesn't believe it, more like—he doesn't like admitting it.

Yeah, yeah.

He knows he can't keep doing this. He can smell a migraine coming, aura in his half-vision, hazy afterimages of his own death swimming at the back of his eyelids. Unfortunately, there's a teenager having a breakdown in his kitchen, which takes priority. Macaque doesn't know what the fuck to say. He can feel his anger pressing in, somewhat, frustration at not being able to help. He cools it.

"You're not a bad kid," he says. Who doesn't indulge in a murder attempt sometimes? he doesn't say. "Y'hear me? Doesn't mean what you did was right—but it doesn't make you a bad person. You're okay, xiǎozi. Talk to me."

[sixthear]

They were doing so well at pushing all the bad memories away while living in this strange dream-like place, too. They suddenly, violently, don't want to be seen. A small part of them realizes the irony in this. He's spent so long fighting with tooth and nail for his troop to see something worthwhile in him, after all. It's the same part of him that almost has him bark out a laugh. (Even though there's nothing funny at all.) He lets out a strangled, small whine instead.

They don't pull away, but he does duck his head a little to avoid having to look at Macaque directly, and hunches his shoulders. He wants to hide away, but he doesn't really have the means to do that, and-- and he thinks about how distraught Shihou looked. Not angry. Just sad and hurt and horrified at what's happened to them. At the monster that was wearing Liu'er body instead. Why didn't you just tell me? That same horrified look is on Liu'er's face.

The thing is-- Liu'er doesn't really have the context to that bloody, brutal fight. Wukong's recollection of events isn't what someone could call reliable. But something like that is something someone just can't unsee. His thoughts keep circling back to the same horrible things.

"No! No-- It's worse," I'm worse. A violent shake of his head. His ears pinned back. "I listened to the lion. I shouldn't have listened to the lion but it doesn't change that all those. Those thoughts were mine. But I didn't want to... I didn't mean to! I..." But he still did. He doesn't say what, exactly. He can't, because it feels-- so much different than what Wukong and Macaque fought over. What if he says it, all of it, and Macaque sees him for the demon he actually is?

He likes Macaque. Macaque's been so gentle and kind to him, even now, and he doesn't deserve it because he's the worst kind of demon ever. He doesn't want Macaque to know. But he's already here, and he knows things about Wukong and Macaque that he really shouldn't-- and here he is again, going in circles again inside his own head. He hates it.

[sageshadowed]

"Alright. You don't have to." Macaque looks down at Liu'er's hands, stained with squished plum, takes the fruit from his palm and puts it on the counter behind them. He'll eat it later.

"But it's not—bad, to want bad things," he says. Brushes bits of plum from Liu'er's fur and clothes. "It's about what you do with that impulse. And sometimes the impulse is stronger than knowing it's wrong. That—happens, too. 'specially when someone's telling you to cave into your worst self."

He frowns a bit, choosing his words carefully again. "It sounds like. Someone took advantage of you—'cause they were the only one who'd listen to you, so you listened to them. That's not your fault." His voice is still soft, but firm. "I don't know the whole thing, I know, but—it won't make me think less of you, okay? If you ever want to talk about it. Doesn't have to be now, if you're not ready. I know—it's scary, and it's a lot. Can you breathe, real slow, for me?"

[sixthear]

Liu'er leans a little into Macaque's hold. Listens to the sound of his breathing. The faint buzzing of electricity running through the house. Thinks— they can't remember the last time someone held them like this. Shihou, probably, before they started pushing him away. Grandpa, when they were smaller. But it's been a long time since they were small.

"That's what the lion promised," Liu'er mumbles, expression twisting. In a way, the lion wasn't lying. They did grow more and more distant from the things that were happening, the more they fed the lion. The more pieces of themself they gave away. In the moment, all they could feel was anger and so much hate and they couldn't stop.

"I don't want to hurt people again," they admit, so very quietly. I don't want to hurt Shihou. "It wasn't just the lion. It made me do things I never wanted to do," but in the moment it felt justified, that he was somehow still so very right. But it was still him, wasn't it? A part of him that's so horribly ugly. Did Grandpa know?

"But I couldn't stop." How do you stop? Do you know? Is it possible? Can you tell me?

[sageshadowed]

"The lion?" he says. "It made you do something—that's not your fault." There's a growing sense of horror at what Liu'er might be implying. He shoves away his distress at his own memory—it's a constant, anyway, he's used to doing this—doesn't want Liu'er to think about it more than necessary; it's not their responsibility. He's vaguely pissed off that Wukong would've allowed the kid to see his own dying, fucked up body, then left Macaque to fumble the fallout himself—but that's not really Wukong's fault, either. It's that Macaque wants someone to blame that he can actually punch in the face.

The irony that Liu'er's asking how to stop hurting people is not fucking lost on him. He mostly just feels numb, though.

He pulls back so he can see Liu'er's face while they talk, but stays close, in contact, a hand still loosely on their shoulder in case they want to shrug it away. "D'you wanna tell me what happened?"

And, "You've seen what I've done. I won't judge you. Promise."

[sageshadowed]

uhhh if u like the macaque stuff i've been writing recently i recommend reading abt psych abolition/mad liberation + harm reduction + anticarceral suicide prevention work. i like a lot of the stuff in trans-axolotl's psych abolition tag here [cw: discussion of suicide, self harm, first person accounts of psychiatric abuse], though there's a lot more writing on this that i haven't looked into

[sixthear]

Liu'er thinks of the first night Shihou returned from his training. Of the lion's whispers in his ears, even then, in the guise of the deer's sweet croons. Shihou slept so easily next to him. So trusting. He never knew about the lightning that crackled at his fingertips. He was still very weak then. The lightning didn't even singe a hair on his head. Shihou woke up none the wiser.

The second time lightning crackled in his hands it was different. So very, very different.

He remembers to inhale. "I'm sorry," One of his hands is sticky with squished plum. It's wet and gross and uncomfortable and it kind makes him want to claw at his own skin. Just like the memories. Just like the dreams. It's almost as if the lion is still inside his head. That his claws left scars inside him somehow, with how tightly he was holding onto Liu'er.

But the lion isn't here. There is fruit pulp all over his hands and his skirt and the weight of the older monkey against his shoulders. The sound of breathing. Heartbeats. The ticking of the clock. Macaque's words, so quiet yet easily heard by his ears.

"Not like that," they reply, with a voice so quiet and small. Macaque can still hear them. There are so many things they're scared of. He shakes his head. No, he could never be scared of Shihou. Even the one that's so much older and sadder and angrier. "It's— I don't—" we already fought, and the lion was going to kill him. He doesn't want to kill him. He doesn't want to die either. None of those things are what he wanted. Not ever.

But there's the fact that they fought. That versions of them keep fighting, that each and every time everything goes so horribly wrong. "I don't wanna do it again. I don't wanna keep hurting."

But what if that's all there is for the Shihou and the Liu'er Mihou?

[sageshadowed]

"I know," he murmurs, "hey. Hey, I've got you." He strokes Liu'er's back as he holds them, twisting awkwardly since they're still sitting side-by-side. He hasn't let go of the hurt or the self-hatred or the somewhat indignant, irrational feeling that he was always right to do it, so long ago. He's gotten good at feeling bad. But he doesn't have the words for this.

"I can't promise you the future," he says, still soft. "I can't fix things for you, back home. And it's hard. I know. I can't take that away either."

He hesitates, picking out his words. Quiet ambience of summer fading into evening outside. Whirring of the fridge. Liu'er's breathing. "I can't make it stop hurting. But if you want to tell me—I can listen. It's what we're good at, right?"

[sixthear]

Liu'er briefly looks up again, face twisted into a frown, but is quick to focus somewhere else when he catches his gaze drifting towards where Macaque's right eye used to be. Where it appears to be, right now, with the use of a glamor. His chest hurts. He rubs at it, even though he logically knows there's nothing physically there. But he thinks of sinking beneath an inky blackness, of the taste of heavy scent of iron clinging to the roof of his mouth. He should talk about it, maybe, probably, but how could he? What is he supposed to say?

That sometimes he thinks about how easily it was to envision Shihou in Macaque's place, laying broken and bloodied on the grass, and with him walking away. About how readily he was prepared for his Shihou to...

"Does it still hurt? Your eye," Liu'er says, words coming out in a rush, barely above a whisper. "I... Sometimes-- sometimes it hurts, here."

[sageshadowed]

Macaque stares at the mug in his hands. Golden tea and leaves crinkled across the bottom. He's very still for a moment.

"Sometimes," he says. Voice somehow still steady; he's surprised by himself. He doesn't want to say, on-and-off migraines and ghost pain so bad he can barely get out of bed some days, but he doesn't want to lie to the kid, either. He thinks about Wukong standing above him lying there. Thinking about how every breath gets more and more difficult, rib cage broken, shoulder dislocation, and a horrible, awful pain in his right eye (where it used to be) (black flooding half his vision, blurring as he loses control of it altogether, hurts). Thinks about his body trying to pull itself back together, all shattered and awful, and failing. Thinks about (just barely) watching Wukong turn away—

No. Not right now. He sets the mug down, now very uninterested in drinking from it. Resists the urge to put his hand to his eye, guard what seems most vulnerable when he feels so suddenly carved apart.

"I'm sorry. That you saw that." His gaze flicks to the side. "Wukong's not gonna hurt you, okay? It's been a long time since then." He feels so numb, though he still crosses the kitchen to sit next to Liu'er instead, puts an arm around the younger macaque's shoulders and pulls him close.

"Are you scared it'll go the same way—for you?" he asks. His voice goes quiet. But Liu'er will hear it.

[sixthear]

They frown, picking at the skin of their fruit. It'd be easier if things were more different, they think. But he can't help but look at this older version of himself-but-not and... think far too much, apparently. "I think it's the stuff the does match up," Liu'er mutters quietly after a moment. "It's not a lot. But it's like... I know I'm not nearly as old as you. I'm not even a hundred yet, and there's... already so many things that went wrong," What if there's no happy ending? If his life was barely started, and it was already full of so many mistake, what did that mean for his forever? He doesn't say any of that.

[sageshadowed]

"That's normal," he says. "Things go wrong. Especially when you're a kid." He doesn't say, you will learn to live with the shame of what you've done, because he hasn't. "But just because things are the same doesn't mean the future will turn out the same way. Right?"

Macaque pauses. He could live without knowing what Liu'er knows now. But Liu'er still seems to be rotating around something difficult, and Macaque needs them to just say what exactly is bothering them.

He says, "Do you want to talk about what you saw?"

[sageshadowed]

  [ META ] + touch-sensitive lights, you know the kind that don’t need a switch but you just whap with your hand/tail to turn on

also his thoughts on automatic sensor lights that ppl put outside houses to light up when deer and etc pass by, are they annoying or helpful bc of extra shadows they cast

last but not least his roommate I don’t think much has changed in the past few months but are they still chill. do they divide up chores. does macaque buy lotus roots to cook for the lolz

mac distrusts touch sensitive lights because they're slightly too technologically advanced for him to comprehend and it freaks him out. also he can see in the dark decently well so they're kinda unnecessary. nezha has definitely more than once walked into the living room, turned on the light, and got jumpscared bc macaque was just sitting on the sofa in complete darkness

he hates the automatic sensor lights bc electronics make a whining noise and it pisses him off. night is already one big shadow

he's chill with nezha but enjoys pranking him. he buys a lot of lotus root bc theyre tasty and also it's funny, and also has a really uncanny ability to get his hands on chinese veggies. mac does the cooking and the dishes and cleans the kitchen and he makes nezha clean the bathroom bc it's only fair. he mostly cooks southern/western/central chinese food (spicy food. yangzhou cuisine can suck it even though legally speaking mac would be from that area). lethe i realized yangmei season just ended n im heartbroken even though you can't even get this fruit in the us and i havent had it in years

[sixthear]

He looks up, briefly, to meet Macaque's gaze. Maybe this— coming here to start this kind of conversation— was a mistake. He's gotten really good at making those. "I..." But he's seen some things no one wanted him to see, probably. He certainly didn't want Wukong to see...

Macaque deserves to know. He'd want to know.

He looks away, suddenly intensely interested in the plum he's holding. Liu'er seems to shrink a little bit, even— curling into himself a little bit as he grows even smaller. "The— body-swapping thing. It swapped some memories, too. So, I keep thinking of things, I guess."

[sageshadowed]

Oh.

Well, it's not the first time he's seen someone trawl through Wukong's memories, though walking through a cursed scroll is probably a more detached experience than watching from Wukong's actual body. And Liu'er didn't necessarily see the same things as MK did. Macaque doesn't flinch, though, doesn't let his mixed reaction show on his face. He checks, habitually, that his glamour's up.

"Does it worry you?" he prompts. "That we don't match up?"

[sageshadowed]

[ META ] + waiting

4 godot?

comprehensive list of things macaque waits for

public transport

tea to steep but often hes too impatient and drinks it while its still too hot and also just boiling water instead of leaf flavor

fruit to get in season before he buys it

food to cook properly ?

otherwise he's impatient. if he sees a long line going somewhere he's not waiting in it and instead he's just leaving. i dont remember anything else you can wait for. send post

[oblivionmemes]

♢      —        send  [ META ] + a word / phrase / person / etc  and i will write a head  canon around it.

[sixthear]

Two thousand years is an awfully long time— especially when you're used to the average lifespan being around a hundred years old. Maybe two to three hundred, if a yaoguai had innately powerful magic. Like Shihou and himself. It's a little difficult to wrap his head around. But there's a part of him that's so utterly ecstatic at the prospect of there already being a world where the promise of forever might just be true.

Liu'er catches the juice box and the plum. Sniffs and taps a knuckle against the fruit to test it, mostly out of ingrained habit than any distrust towards the quality of snacks Macaque can provide. "I know some things are different. But I also know that some things are the same," Munch. "Like— I was born first and and raised by the troop. It was me who found Shihou and brought him to the others when he was born,"

A lot has changed since then. Mostly for the better, even if it didn't feel like it at the time. His mind quickly circles back to the topic of time again. He mimics Macaque's sip of tea with a sip from his juice box. It's cold.

"...Did you also steal peaches from heaven? The special ones."

[sageshadowed]

"...no?" Macaque blinks twice. "That was Wukong. He was mad about his job. I wasn't really involved in it until later, when he and a few" (he gestures vaguely) "friends tried to take over Heaven."

So that's another difference. Wait, then was Liu'er responsible for Dànào Tiāngōng? What the fuck was Shihou doing in the furnace then? What?

They're still so young?

Macaque sits himself on the counter opposite Liu'er. Brow crinkles in a tiny frown. "You seem to have been thinking about this a lot recently." He would rather not spend his afternoon recounting everything that happened to him in agonizing detail. "Does it bother you?"