#k-ruelty

[simiansmoke]

I'm more built than you where it counts and we both know it!... My crown is HUGE.

Since when was a crown a muscle group anyway? The croc's was a tiara at best. "Y'know, I wouldn't be bragging about your crown bein' huge. 'Cause it looks pretty dainty from where I'm standing. Oh- riiiiiight. Must be your enormously fat head."

[simiansmoke]

☆ + K. Rool’s Muscles? (I already know what your gonna say about him…🤣)

"...must be the name of his imaginary friend. 'Cause those don't exist."

[simiansmoke]

@k-ruelty -cont.

"I can see you're upset..."

He flounders with his fingers, skipping backwards. No matter the height, the croc knows his friend skips leg day! And it's safer not being in punching range... "But where is poor little delicate innocent lovable me to goooo? Krocodile Isle is sunk. Because of you. Not that I hold a grudge! AHAHAAHAAAA!..." The king raises his hands in a meek surrender. "COME NOW, DONKEY. The swamp here is so nice. And your kingdom really lacks... many things. But especially charm! I could help you, y'know?"

"-REALLY? Ya don't SAY?" The prince of the Kongs snarls, not in the mood for the croc's usual antics. He's put up with too much already and nearly subjected to the rest of his life being lived out as a clap-trap because of it. He can't just keep being nice to the kremling when every chance he got, he was foisting another scheme of taking over the islands on him.

Not at all sensitive to the other's plight, he shakes his head, padding forward to push the other back towards the wall that would be his end of the line truce if he didn't watch his step. "Don't you, 'come now, donkey' me! Leaving you alone to your own devices on Kong land is just asking for another headache of an arc I never asked for!" Hunkering down on all fours, he gives himself a rigorizing shake before strolling over faster, shoulders wriggling as he prepares a pounce for the freeloading croc.

"What could you possibly do to help ME? Not that I should believe you!"

[simiansmoke]

//dragged off amongst the fighting; a croc with a catch won't risk losing it amongst rivals.

It's a heavy burden to bare - the weight of the Kremling king on his back and particularly beside himself with waiting for the cruel game of charge the coconut to result in the full charge desired for a wish more powerful than simplicities that it had since entertained.

Granted that entertainment had been flawed apparently, according to the Kremling. The pale and pearlescent glow of the artifact charged in friendly affairs, wistful glances, and faster heart beats could only fulfill wishes just as silly and mediocre.

No, for a wish to pack the bite of toppling kingdoms and wishing maladies upon others, it took a sad and darkening heart to feed the blue of the crystal's fluorescent flashes. And DK was already on his way there, paused at halfway if only to resist the croc's attempts and messing with his head further.

Drained of his own energy as the crystal worked at converting more to it's supply, he succumbed momentarily to the croc's madness, the idea playing over and over in his head that this had been Bowser's plan all along. All that work...nearly dying if not for each other for some coconut that did nothing miraculous as promised except to make a miraculous disaster of his life - not that it wasn't already. But the coconut's shine had brought light to it in ways he would never uncover on his own.

All the time spent showing the Koopa he didn't need an oath or an obedience spell, or to stay chained to a land he did not recognize to have his back - shell on or off. All of that meant nothing...and he should have heeded the tyrant's lesson all along that if you trusted no one, then no one could hurt you.

"I wish ...he'd feel this." It was one bitter request made to the coconut's growing miserable charge, but like the pain of having his arm out of placed and forced back in - he couldn't weather the storm of it alone.

When the croc suggested he send such nasty thoughts to his friends and to Cranky too for letting him get to this point, he dug his nails into the ground in protest. "It's not...it's none of their faults that I screwed everything up and let them down." After all, being mad at himself was easier than directing it elsewhere in an attempt to find clarity. Did his friends or Dad really do anything to bring him close to the position he now found himself in? The resounding 'no, of course not' in his head only caused the echo of accusation to drift back and point to himself.

"I, hrgh- wish that my friends knew-...that Dad knew ...I should've... been BETTER 'cause of them. But I'm not." A bitter smile quirked at his dropped expression's expense. "...because I'm still- ... me."

And wasn't that just the worst thing to be?

[simiansmoke]

//welcome back to the K. Rool makes DK uncomfey series-

[cheerstoyourmustaches]

@k-ruelty

The prima dona pouts, paw pressed to his broken heart. To be called out so damages his soul! His smaller eye goes glassy, squeezing out a salty tear... A moment of defeated silence passed; the king asserts his posture with a stomp. "Now listen here! To accept yellow is to stunt your growth as a person! Ascend to gold, I say!" But there is more to his armor than simply its shade. It was strengthened with a specific purpose in mind: deflect kong punches! "This metal is mandatory! A MUST in my construction! For..." A brief analysis of his visitor yields potential. The boy is armed with a sword, surely the pea knows the importance of fashion with function. "It would be easier to demonstrate! Draw your sword, Squire!" The command comes with an abrupt smack of his belly. Without explanation, he roars an impatient demand.

"STAB ME IN THE STOMACH!!"

For a moment, Peasley thought himself too harsh...those crocodile tears certainly were an argument against his constructive criticism. Though almost as soon as he'd reached out with his gloved hands as if to place one upon the large fellow's hip, the ground shakes with great vigor courtesy of the Kremling's stomps.

The vibrations send the short prince practically vibrating along the ground with his arms outstretched on either side in an attempt to find his inner balance. Once the rumbling fades, he straightens back up quickly, not one to show a poise less princely for longer than he could stand.

"...yellow is-...stunted growth?" He repeats, head tilted quizzically to the side as he considers the croc's argument. "I would say not! It is clearly the champion's color choice! The dawn's most splendid hour-! The dusk's most bittersweet end! A rose by any other name would smell less sweet, I say!" Said twirling the yellow rose from earlier around his fingers as casually as a child with a rubber band, expertly missing all the thorns.

"I never said gold wasn't a luxury ~ but fashionable? I think not." He adds, palm flattening against the croc's large belly as he leans against it for a supporting wall while he shines the knuckles of his other hand's glove against his chest with a coy smile. A shift of weight has him staggering back though, losing balance momentarily where he must press his palm to the floor and draw his gaze up to the mountainous company. "Ah? You would like a duel, would you!? I would not blame you, for my blade is the fastest in the land!"

Shoulders squaring as he rises, the pea prince draws his toothpick of a weapon, a wind of unknown origins gracing the golden locks atop his head as they sway backwards. "I shall show you the folly of your-...come again?" A blink or two has Peasley off guard. He'd never actually received a stabbing request before? "...that's rather forward of you! Shouldn't we tussle around a bit first? It's a bit less awkward that way!"

[simiansmoke]

i saw you fall.

AFTER THE BATTLE

The last moments of the battle were a blur of raised fur, frantic cries and the sound of smashed bones...courtesy of a cannon ball bashing him in the ribs as he slammed Diddy and Dixie away from the blast and caught a bash for it.

It was strong enough to knock him out of the high trees. Barrelling below, he would have bashed himself into the immortal plane surely if the hoards of vines and jungle plants hadn't made him their meal. Coming to a stop some 8 feet above the ground, body wrapped prevariously in jungle vines and flowers that held him in the air, the Kong prince groaned, unable to even reach up to touch his sore ribs with his wrists bound overhead by vines. "F-fuck..." He growls, eyes scanning the skyline for a sign that his little buddies had escaped unscathed.

Vision blurring in and out, he coughs violently for a moment, blood coming up with his spittle. He might have tried to spit it at the croc below when he sidles up with that damn canon gun perched on his shoulder and eyeing him like the catch of the day.

I saw you fall...

"Congragufuckinlations" DK snarls, though the pain in doing so shows on his face as he hangs helplessly in his bindings. "...you didn't get them! That's all that...matters..." He adds, eyes shutting in exhaustion.

[simiansmoke]

@k-ruelty cont.

The blood in his eyes matches the stains soaking his dripping maw, and each panting heave of an exhale from the previous strain needed to perform a hands-free kill has each shuddering huff dripping similar shaded drops onto the ferns by his ankles. Though he didn't need to taste the air to tell the croc was still there, Dread still took the liberty of bearing a short tip of tongue through the points of his bloodied canines - if not to check who was in the area, than to indulge in the last betrayed moments of the younger Kong that still electrified the air with panic, and eventually...hopeless acceptance. An interesting seasoning...he knew it well.

As the kremling finally decided to slink out from hiding, Dread had rocked back onto his hackles to regard the other from a similar stance...if not to get a better look at the other's expression eye-to-eye before he got too close and his eyesight led him to the blurred lines of forced ignorance. Though, he didn't need eyes to detect the clapping...odd. But then again, he knew he shouldn't expect anything other than odd from a croc.

"...??!" Perplexed, but finding that his fur was ripe for flaring when the other got too close to his kill for his liking, Dread dropped to pad around the opposite end of the fallen Kong and snarl a warning to his...uninvited Kremling guest before enacting his rights as the successful hunter by ripping quickly into his kill's back.

The possession and hunger on display is voracious. Though he'd filled himself on some of the Kingdom's natural supplies earlier after rocking into the neighborhood from the isle of the crystal coconut, the years of starving on and off seemed to have taken its toll. He eats his share in several hasty mouthfuls of what he wants - muscle...then, satisfied, he pads a little ways off to settle and languish his tongue upon the bloodiest part of his soaked fur - down the arm and pooling at his wrist.

"...all yours." He grunts, sounding like he was in a most amiable mood despite displaying a beast's appetite moments earlier. "He's not the one I want..."