LMK Writes

NEZHA

you weren't sure what you were expecting when you came home from work. no, really, im honest!

but walking past the fridge to get to the cabinets for tea- you weren't expecting to see your art hung on the fridge.

your nature art, no less!

you blink slowly, mystified.

"...Ne'zha? did you hang up some pictures on the fridge?" you call out into the apartment- halfheartedly expecting no answer at all.

"i did, yes. i found them in a pile with this sketchbook on your desk." comes his answer- floating down the hall before you hear the audible (purposeful) scuff of his feet on the floor.

he hesitates when he finds you staring, before stepping close. "have i over stepped, my dear?" he asks gently, voice growing lower, softer.

you hum softly, uncertain how you feel about something so flawed being hung up where anyone could see.

"i.. dont know how i feel about it being out like this. but- ah.. im not mad, if that counts." you huff softly, words amused, and maybe a little flattered. you haven't exactly had anyone hang up your art on the fridge like this since you were a kid.

he steps up to your side and slides an arm around your waist- to which you lean heavily into his side- knowing he'll support you.

"...would you mind if it stayed? i quite enjoy these particular pieces."

you lift your gaze to him, and find him smiling gently at the pictures of ponds full of lotus flowers, of an old dynasty you found when hiking a few years ago, of the palace he called home.

and- yeah. yeah, you'll let them stay. if only to see the smile on his face at the sight of home- even if it was made by your hand.

MACAQUE

"mac- c'mon! i'm serious, give it back!" you cry, trying to grab a hold of the book he held high. he chuckles, grinning cheekily.

"awhh, c'mon~ i just wanna take a peak! i've been so curious on what you've been drawing for so long!~" he coos, teasing lowly.

he laughs as he pushes you back- gently, carefully, always so cautious when it comes to your smaller body, weaker, fragile- and hops back to sit where you cant reach him.

he flips open the sketchbook against your indignant shout, and-

oh, isnt that blush such a sweet look on him?

it starts at the tip of his ears- all six, mind you. -and slowly over the apples of his cheeks, then to his jaw, and his neck.

he slowly flips through the sketchbook, looking a little starstruck as he watches in real time how you slowly perfected the curve of his ears, the crook of his smile, the sway of his hair when he laughs.

he finally pauses on a page that's just general flowers and bugs, and looks up towards you again. you have your face buried in your hands, flushed to the max.

knowing this is his last chance at any form of composure, he clears his throat loudly.

"well! glad to see i'm still appreciated around here. though, i will say- we should probably find a way to display these." he drawls, amused, surprised at how steady his voices sounds.

when you look up to him, he has that gentle, wry grin on his face.

i see it, i love it. dont stop because of me.

you smile, slowly, and glance away, face still warm as he hops down, snapping the sketchbook closed.

"...if we have the room." you agree idly.

SUN WUKONG

he's found it while you're out.

how can you tell?! you may ask. you've only just gotten back to the mountain!

well, because as soon as you walk in the door, you see it on the wall- carefully held up with little tacks.

your art.

the scenery you've drawn- a few buildings, flowers, the mountain.

a few paintings you've done, too- you do a double take when you find some of your water color art in the hallway.

when you get to your shared bedroom, he's sat there in the middle of the room, you sketchbook in his lap- all of your other art mediums scattered around the room.

he looks like a kid in a candy store- awed, and delighted.

you knew he was a little bit of his own artist, but to see him genuinely so excited as he looks over your sketches... it makes a twinge of pride blossom in your chest.

"Having fun, there?"

he yelps, and jumps- no, literally- to his feet.

"Babe! Darling! hahaHA, WHAT are you doing home?" he has the sketchbook tucked behind him, a sheepish grin on his lips.

you snort, and hold out an expectant hand.

he gives it to you without preamble, a little embarassed.

"..sorry for going through your things. i just- i found it open on your desk, and couldn't help myself!" he huffs, poorly explaining himself.

you cant find it in yourself to feel anything but amused.

"yeah? is that why the statue of liberty is on the living room wall?"

"it looked so good..."

god. this monkey was going to be the death of you.

this Motherfu-

you growl low in your throat, your large maw opening up wide to crunch and tear through glaciers of ice.

wukong had to need the map. he just HAD to take it and subsequently your husbands attention.

an ear piercing roar tears through the skies and the heavens themselves, the clouds and waters parting for the kaiju that marched on towards the samadhi fires mountain.

your kaiju form was that of a snapping turtle- a large spiked tail, a humongous spiked shell lay on your back. four searing red eyes glowered out at the horizon.

and your maw- the natural shape of a turtles mouth, but giants whisps and licks of Red and Black seeped out, lashing and curling at the open air.

your legs sunk into the sea up to your knees, clawed hands pulled up, eyes narrowed.

you were going to flay that simian.

teeth bared, it only took you a few strides to reach the mainland, and subsequently, megaopolis.

it was frozen- you should probably ask why, but your more concerned with unfreezing it. to get your husband back.

and his attention.

your eyes landed on the massive mech standing at the edge of the city, just into the desert, twin swords drawn and a blazing black flame encasing it like a second skin.

you recognized that warmth- those flames. you helped create that blessing- it was but a fragment of your own.

fully baring your teeth, a boil built in your chest, burning hot and acidic. that feeling crawled through your throat, letting molten stars drip from your maw and stain the sands below with the fury of the universe, living and beautiful and Furious.

a low whine built, the heat growing, sand becoming glass and skies growing black with smoke, eyes glowing, bones and spines pulsing with the heat, a ball of the very concept of Hate built in the back of your throat, growing in size and shape.

it took only a second, but you watched the flames grow green, acid in color and full of Pride and Passion- and knew those flames were of your heart no more, knew they had become the soul of someone more than your hatred.

a viscous grin tore across your face, and you took a step forward, planting your feet, dipping down and angled your head just right.

a massive monkey like mecha formed from the light of the heavens, it was frantic in nature as it scooped up a handful of tiny creatures- mortals, most likely. unimportant.

a deep breath, and that whine burst into a deep and guttural Roar.

the beam of bloodlust and molten stars and blooming galaxies tore through the air, the mecha throwing itself to the side as the frozen beast was struck through its core, the very concept of the damned thing incinerated, the metal reduced to lakes of molten ore, the heat from the blast having turned the surrounding desert into massive towers and glaciers of glass.

the metal behemoth was gone, reduced to nothing but the memory of it.

the mecha’s head was turned toward what once was, and then whipped towards you-

oh.

you lit up.

“Xiaotian!” you called, your projection lighting up as it stood tall, and then started making its way across the thawing city. carefully picking your way across the melting streets, you beam as your feet sink into the desert sands.

ambling your way over, you angle your head down to make eye contact.

“where’s your mentor?”

“…i really don’t want to answer that.” he squeaked.

your frown was very telling in the way the protege flinched.

“Liánhuā!” you lit up again, projection dropping, and your small body falling for not even a second before you were held tight in your husbands arms.

“Liánhuā, what are you doing here? i thought i asked you to remain in heaven!” he cried, gripping you close, regardless of how you nuzzled into him.

smiling you let everything wash over you, keeping yourself pressed close to your husband, arms looped around his neck and hands clasped.

“is she alright?-“

you would’ve thrown yourself at wukong if it wasn’t for nezha’s grip on you tightening.

“wukong, you disrupted our honeymoon with this. i feel it best if you distance yourself from her.” nezha’s voice had a little growl to it, his body warming with his frustration. you nuzzled further into his neck.

MK has Inattentive ADHD, like me!

this form of ADHD makes it Hard to stay on track and keep a steady schedule, often needing it to be either; a) consistent or b) predictable.

MK has a Lot of fun learning new things, and is often found with his face buried in a book (usually titled “{this thing} for dummies!”)

when idle/not doing anything, he start spinning the staff around his hand/fingers like a pen

the bandana was a gift from pigsy’s ma! (his grammy)

he has, can, and will, rearrange his entire apartment to find something he lost

hates sitting still- the only time he’s found it easy to do so is in the Tuk-Tuk

he is “heavy footed” meaning that when he drives, he is almost always pressing down on the gas, consciously or not!

MK is a “Maladaptive Daydreamer”, and one of his biggest triggers for it is Music, a few of the smaller ones are Repetitive Movement (ex; swaying boats, rocking, moving cars), bright flashing colors (Mei often has to snap him out of it when he falls under in the club), and sitting still for too long!

MK has “fallen under” (Ex; Disassociated, Daydreamed, panic/anxiety attack) in multiple places-

once, in the zero-gravity club when a bright light beam flashed him in the eyes, and he “woke up” to Pigsy sitting on his bed rubbing circles into his back, Tang reading to him, and Mei quietly tapping away on her phone with a weighted blanket and comfort/attack clothing on.

again, on Sandy’s boat when he sat still long enough for his “Lizard Brain” to recognize that the boat was rocking, and “Waking up” again, with cats draped over him, Sandy quietly chatting idly while sipping on tea, and himself covered by a weighted blanket and holding a (warmish) cup of tea.

when MK daydreams, his head’ll twitch and jerk, hands twitching and/or clenching. sometimes he’ll start pacing and he’ll sway, lean a bit too far or turn around really fast and slip/trip over himself. he’ll make facial expressions and get emotional with the scenarios and worlds unfolding in his head.

((he’s woken up a few times to a demon with mind reading abilities wailing out “no wait it was just getting good!”))

——————————

Red Son was- Unsurprisingly -rich.

and rich people? the wealthy?

really have a thing for “very feminine, looks dainty, could probably be royalty, can absolutely kick your ass into next week”

Red Son’s head lifted, raising an eyebrow at you, he stares questioningly, to which your tail flicks a bit, and you knock some of his pillows askew as you burrow into his sheets.

a soft call of your name, and a chair screeeeching over marble floors, and then a warm hand settled on your back, the sheets over your large rabbit like ears drawing back, allowing you to look up at him through your bangs.

he smiled softly down at you, head tilting as his horns glinted in the low lighting- those fuzzy bull ears of his enticing you onto your knees, fingers immediately running over and petting, caressing his ears. with a low chuff chuff chuff, Red Son melts into your touch, sighing softly as he slides up and onto the bed, and then your lap.

straddling you briefly, he settles down on the mattress in between your (verrrry fluffy) legs, hands settling on your thighs, fingers slowly gliding through your fur; just like your fingers gently squeezed and caressed and massaged his ears.