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slashmagpie · 6 months

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Blood & Snow

Pt. IV

Directory: {Pt. I} {Pt. II} {Pt. III} {Pt. V} {Pt. VI} {Pt. VII} {AO3}

Day four for @hermithorrorweek! This is the longest chapter in this fic and completely got away from me lmao. I hope you all enjoy it. TWs for this chapter include: violence, gore, possession, non-consensual body modification*, temporary character death?

IV. TAKEN OVER

“So what you’re saying,” Cub says, “is that the dungeon… ate Tango?”

The seven of them are sitting in a makeshift circle of chairs in the waiting room. Well—most of them. Scar’s in his wheelchair, rolling back and forth in that way he only does when he’s particularly anxious, and Gem is hopping around the outside of the circle, too full of energy to sit still. Bdubs is a shade paler than usual, fingers buried deep in the moss of his cloak, his chair pushed as close to Scar as he can manage. Pearl is sitting on his other side, a frown on her face as she glances around the circle. Then there’s Cub, and beside him, Etho and Hypno, both of them evidently as concerned by this development as he is.

“Or—something,” Bdubs says, uncomfortable but not quite grumbling. “It’s like—everything’s covered in his soul.”

“His soul,” Etho echoes, sceptically.

“His soul, his consciousness, his self, whatever you wanna call it! But it’s everywhere.”

“I dunno, Bdubs, that sounds pretty…”

“Ridiculous?” Bdubs snaps. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it! But it’s real.”

“And the dungeon has flesh now,” Scar adds. “And it breathes. It’s really freaky! And I can’t find Tango anywhere.”

“I found him,” Bdubs says. “It was dark. He said he was in ‘the one place you can’t reach.’ Any ideas what that means?”

There’s a long, drawn-out pause.

“I mean…” says Cub. “There’s really only one place, isn’t there?”

“Where?” Scar asks.

“The Burning Dark.”

There’s another long, long pause.

“You mean level four,” Hypno clarifies.

“Well, it is the one place we can’t get to,” Cub points out.

“You want someone to get down to level four. To find Tango. Without dying. When it’s not even open?” Etho says, staring at him.

Cub shrugs. “Anyone have any better ideas?”

They don’t.

“Tango’s going to kill me,” Etho wails.

“Wait, who said anything about you being the one to do it?” Hypno says.

“Well—I mean, I thought…” Etho trails off awkwardly, shrugging. “Since I’m the best player, and all…”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hypno says with a huff. “I mean, me and Cub are pretty good at this, too!”

“Well, I mean, if you two want to do it, be my guest. Are your decks big enough?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“We could all do it,” Cub suggests.

They turn to stare at him. “What?”

“Well… it’s not like it’s a proper run, anyway. We’re not trying to get an artefact—we’re trying to get Tango. If we combine our decks, go in together… We might have a better chance of at least one of us making it.”

The two of them consider it. “It could work,” Hypno admits. “Wouldn’t it cause a lot of clank, though?”

“Well, then we sacrifice Etho to the Vex and keep on running.”

“Hey!”

“Sure. We can go in together. Why not?”

“Great. Etho? You in, man?”

Etho sighs. “Fine.”

“So that’s the plan?” Pearl says. “We send in the three best players and hope you guys can get him out?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, no, it’s fine, I just feel like there’s something more we should be able to do.” She points at herself, Scar, and Bdubs, then waves a vague hand in Gem’s direction. “Right? I don’t wanna be sitting around twiddling my thumbs while you guys are down there.”

“I could try dreaming again?” Bdubs suggests. “Like—I could be down there all invisible helping you guys out.”

“And I’ll be your man in the van!” Scar declares.

“Our… what?” Hypno blinks.

“You know, your man in the van! Like Grian in Phasmo!”

“He means he’s gonna sit out here and not do anything,” Gem cuts in.

“Hey! I’m going to offer my best commentary.”

Etho pulls a face. “Can we pass on that?”

“Okay, so, what about me?” Pearl asks. “What should I do?”

“I know what you can do,” Gem says.

Pearl turns to look at her. “You do?”

“Sure.”

Cub glances up at Gem, and instantly his senses tell him that something is wrong. He can’t quite put his finger on it—is it that she’s suddenly stiller than usual? The way her fingers twitch towards the sword sheathed at her hip? The stony look in her eye, the smile stretching eerily across her mouth?

Before he can figure it out, Gem answers the question with, “You can stop me.”

Her sword is out before anyone can say anything to that, coming down on Bdubs’ shoulder and splitting him in two. Bdubs respawns in the bed across the room with a cry, his body dissolving into golden and green light that soaks into Gem’s skin as she laughs and wipes the blood from her skirt. Cub is on his feet in a matter of seconds, pulling his own weapon and shield, as the rest of their little circle scatters apart and away from her.

“Gem?” Pearl cries, drawing her axe, taking several careful steps back. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Pearl.” Gem’s smiling, but there’s a note of genuinity in her voice, a slight shake around the edges. “I can’t just let you break the rules!”

“Who died and made you hall monitor?” Scar mutters as he wheels as far back from Gem as he can get.

“Tango,” Gem says, her breath misting in the air like it’s several degrees colder than the waiting room actually is. “He told me I need to stop you by any means necessary.” She takes a step forward, swinging her sword and letting the tip of it drag across the ground. “And as much as I want to save him, well… Any means necessary it is. Unless... you stop me.” She steps just into Pearl’s personal space. Cub watches as frost begins to creep over the tip of Pearl’s nose.

“The dungeon ate you too,” he realises.

Gem grins with too-sharp teeth and swings her sword upwards.

“Run!” Pearl cries, parrying it with the blade of her axe. “Go, go!”

“You heard her!” Etho says, and then he and Hypno are running, leaving Cub watching the fight unfolding.

“Cub, what are you doing?” Hypno cries. “Come on!”

Cub should run, is the thing, should join them in their trip down. He knows it, right down to the itch in his skin that begs him to move. But that’s the problem—there’s an itch that makes him want to move. A foreign presence too familiar to not recognise, blue veins stretching across his skin, the voice different but the motive all the same.

Go with them, begs the skulk, begs the dungeon, and Cub looks at the ferocity with which Gem fights and feels an inkling of fear in the back of his brain.

The dungeon ate Tango. It’s eating Gem.

…What happens when it eats me, too?

“Cub! We’re gonna go without you!” Etho cries, and the skulk screams, and Cub flinches away from the fight and towards his friends.

“Sorry! Coming!” he cries, and races towards the drop-down into the hall below.

“Dude, for a moment, we thought you weren’t gonna come,” Hypno says. “Thought you were gonna leave us out to dry.”

“Nah, man,” Cub says, shoving his blue-coated hands in his pockets, trying not to squirm. “I’m with you, I’m with you.”

“Right. Everyone get their decks and meet back here,” Hypno says. “Who’s paying?”

There’s a long pause.

“Well, you know, I got the least shards…” Etho says, shuffling.

“You also have the best win rate.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“I’ll pay,” Cub says. “I’m sure Tango will reimburse me, anyway.”

The two of them glance at him. “Oh, okay. Thanks, Cub.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Cub smiles at them. “I just wanna get down there as fast as possible. Speedrun, come on. Let’s get our decks.”

----

It’s weird, going in with three people: first they sort through their cards, try to figure out the best way to build their individual deck into one larger one, bicker about getting the correct cards back at the end of the day. Then they have to decide—well, it isn’t a real run, so is it worth taking their armour in? What about food? Would taking a sword to a ravager be a smart move, or a particularly stupid one?

Some part of Cub—a part that he’s not too keen on inspecting—recoils at the idea of cheating to such an extent, and he tells the others so. They agree—a little reluctantly, maybe, but he thinks they all feel uneasy at the idea of angering the dungeon, when it’s already in Gem trying to tear Pearl apart upstairs, and it’s already got Tango trapped somewhere deep within its depths. So: no armour, no food, no weapons. Just the three of them, and their frankenstein deck, and all the wits they have about them.

Man, Cub just hopes they aren’t making a mistake.

“Shotgun!” Hypno calls as he hops in the minecart. Cub hops onto the back of the minecart, arms around Hypno’s shoulders and feet firmly planted on the transom at the minecart’s rear.

“Sorry, Etho,” he says with a faux-sheepish, not at all apologetic smile at the third member of their party. “Guess you’ll have to walk.”

“Oh, no, I can fit,” Etho says, and promptly throws himself into Hypno’s lap.

Hypno yelps. “Dude!”

“What?” Etho bats his eyes innocently, but Cub will bet anything that there’s a smirk beneath that mask of his. “Are we ready to go?”

“I guess,” Hypno grumbles, wincing as Etho repositions himself in the cart.

“Press the button, let’s go,” Cub says.

“Pressing the button!” Etho says, reaching up to hit it and then ducking his head to avoid hitting it on the low ceiling of the tunnel.

The minecart ride takes an age, and yet takes no time at all: the air turns frigid around them as they descend down into the depths, and Cub gets a sense of what Scar had been talking about, the feeling of being surrounded by something alive. He tightens his grip on Hypno’s shoulders, sucks in a steadying breath—

And then falls in a heap on top of the other two as they’re all forcibly ejected from the minecart into the same space.

“Oww…”

“Ugh.”

“Welp.” Cub stands and shoves his hands in his pocket. “Better not do that again.”

“Trust me, I’m not planning on it,” Hypno grouses. “Who wants the map?”

“You can take it man, I don’t mind,” Cub says. “Just keep us updated on the card count.”

“Got it.” Hypno picks up the map, leaving the compass floating behind in the entryway as he heads towards the door. “Okay, what’s the game plan?”

“Split up and look for a key?” Etho suggests.

“Won’t that just build up clank?” Hypno shoots back.

“EVASION,” bellows the dungeon.

“...Well, that answers that question,” Cub says, following the two of them down into the ice tunnels. “Anyone know where the ravagers are?”

“Not a clue,” Hypno says.

“Hopefully Tango will be nice to us,” Etho says. “Right, guys?”

“...Well, we can certainly hope,” Cub says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

His fingers close on the cold heavy compass shell that he did not put in there.

“Alright,” Hypno says as they make it to the circle. “Who’s going where?”

“I’ll go up the right tunnel!” Etho volunteers immediately.

“I’ll take the left,” Cub offers.

“And I’ll take the crypt, then,” Hypno says. “Okay. Use your comms—message if you have a key and we’ll meet at the kneeling man.”

“Gotcha,” Cub says, and with that they’re off.

There’s nothing by the TNT pond, and only a few coins in the treasure spot on the leftmost tunnel. He snags some berries and hops across the dripstone, pausing in the opening of the tunnel as he hears the distinctive huff of a ravager. He presses himself to the wall, and feels the wall shudder behind him, not quite solid. He freezes and, slowly, reaches back to press his hand into it.

The skulk that’s eaten into his fingers shivers, and like recognises like, and the cold surface of ice and stone feels almost warm.

Like frostbite, Cub thinks, almost absently. He feels warm, but he’s cold. His breath mists in the chill air.

Without thinking, he steps out into the path of a ravager.

He blinks at the ravager. It blinks back at him. He can see his silhouette reflected in its eyes.

“Hey, man,” Cub greets. “Are we gonna be cool about this? Great, thanks man. Knew I could count on you.”

He can feel the dungeon’s gaze on him as he stares the ravager in the eye. His fingers are black and blue. The cold feels almost cosy. He tightens his fingers around the compass.

“We’re cool,” he says again, and he’s not talking to the ravager this time. “I’ll get it, don’t you worry.”

The ravager, slowly, turns and begins to walk away.

<Hypnotizd> got a key

Cub turns and walks the other way, leaving black and blue footprints in his wake.

-----

Down on level two, there’s more ground to cover. Etho heads towards Rusty’s room. Hypno takes the lava pathway. Cub makes a beeline through mushrooms to the dripleaf parkour.

He finds a key in the amethyst, floating in the water right beneath a ravager’s feet. It watches him docilely as he ducks in and picks it up, leaving with a casual wave.

The parkour is easy. The lake, even easier. Willie throws a trident, but it feels more like a greeting, an inside joke, than it does a threat. The throw goes wide, anyway. Cub drags himself to shore, shakes off the water like a wet dog, and approaches the barrel.

He sucks in a breath. Tightens his fingers on the compass. Pulls out his communicator with his other hand.

<cubfan135> sorry guys

<cubfan135> gotta do it

<cubfan135> you know how it is

<Hypnotizd> ???

<Etho> cub what are you doing

<Hypnotizd> what

<cubfan135> good luck making it to lvl3

He tucks the device away and opens the barrel, placing the key into the slot. There’s a familiar chime, and then the door opens with the hiss of pistons firing. Cub takes a steadying breath as he steps through the doorway, and finally pulls the compass from his pocket.

His hand is fully covered in skulk, the veins rotting their way into his flesh, inseparable from his skin without carving them out. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. More skulk-spots dot the surface of the compass, but he can still see the needle through them. Can still see the inscription, telling him to go deeper into the dungeon.

And so Cub goes.

He doesn’t bother crouching. Level three goes so much quicker when you don’t have to worry about being quiet, when you know that even if the wardens do hear you, they won’t care. The skulk sloughs from his legs, leaving sticky trails of fungal soul rot behind him. He can feel it creeping up his spine, weaving into the cracks between the bones. The dungeon is dark, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s got rot in his eyes, or because he’s close enough to a warden for the blindness to take effect. He supposes it doesn’t really matter. He knows where he’s going anyway, the skulk veins in his nervous system controlling his legs so that he doesn’t have to.

Hm. It must be in his brain already. If it wasn’t, he’d probably be a lot more panicked about being puppeted like this.

When did it get so bad? He feels like he should have noticed it getting quite this bad sometime before this run. It had started when he’d begun running deadlies, of course, when he’d first touched the skulk and had veins wrap themselves around the tips of his fingers, like recognises like. The rot knows that he’s been a home for it before—knew he would be a home for it again. And Cub had taken that little vein, that infection, back up to the surface, and he’d told it no. Had told it, just for Halloween. Just a costume. He wouldn’t do what he did last time, and overtake the server with mould and decay. He’s not about that, anymore.

And yet, here he is, covered in the stuff, rot in his bones and blood and brain. How had he not noticed? How had nobody noticed?

(He thinks of Gem, perched in the walls, skin turning grey and eyes turning sharp. He thinks of Tango, trapped by his own dungeon, deep within the depths of a cave he’d sacrificed months of his life to. He thinks of run after run, of heart-pounding, adrenaline-rushing fun, of shard-cravings and withdrawal-fever, and he thinks that maybe, maybe he understands.)

(Nobody had wanted to notice, because noticing would have meant having to stop.)

(And nobody wants to stop playing Decked Out.)

Cub comes to a halt as the compass’ needle begins to spin wildly. He takes a few steps back and forth, feeling for the minecart beneath his feet, and drops the compass into the hopper.

A dispenser spits... something back into his hands.

CF135, says the label on the something, but this is not the artefact Cub’s familiar with, not the model rocketship with his name carved into the side. This could barely be called an artefact at all, a bloody and writhing handful of intestine, frozen half-rotted flesh beneath his fingers. He gags, nearly dropping the guts, blood spattering against the skulk that coats his legs and being absorbed into the rot. The guts themselves have spots of skulk-vein spattered across them, barely visible through the red, pulsing blood that drips from them, and they twitch despite clearly being dead, dead, dead.

“What is this?” he cries out to the dungeon. “Why have you given me this?”

Something tugs on his leg. Gently, barely there, and then—

Cub lets out a scream as he’s pulled down through the floor, pain flooding his body as his pelvis hits the hard stone floor. The skulk surges, crawling up his body, consuming all in his wake, tugging him down, down, down. The intestines wrap themselves around his neck, squeezing just tight enough that his limited vision darkens even further, that he panics, before loosening ever so slightly to allow him to gasp.

Cub wails.

“Hey, no, stop it, I don’t—Tango! Tango, hey, man, please, stop it—!”

The dungeon quivers around him. The skulk slows in its consumption, leaving Cub half-eaten and shaking on the dungeon floor. His chest shudders as he sucks in one breath, and then another.

“That’s it, man,” he manages to choke out through the tears. “We can talk about this, can’t we? I promise—I won’t even try and get you out, if you don’t want me to. I’ll stop the others. Just—don’t do this. Okay?”

Everything is still for a moment. Silent.

Cub feels a vein of skulk drag itself slowly, comfortingly, across his cheek, leaving a bloom of decay in its wake.

“Cubby,” the dungeon sighs, voice as unfamiliar as the word is familiar, and Cub lets out a sigh of relief.

“Tango! Hey, man. Good to see you, good to see you.” He may be a little delirious, actually, he thinks as he babbles. “Hey, so, you can let me go, yeah? I’ll get out of your hair—or into it if you’d prefer—whatever, man, I’ll do whatever, as long as you let me go. So—we’re good? Yeah?”

The intestines tighten, not enough to choke, but enough to hold. A hug, an embrace, in the only way a dungeon made of rotting flesh knows how. Cub melts into it. He’s in so much pain, is the thing. He’s in so much pain, and he’s so, so cold.

Something yanks on his leg, and a shrieker howls, and the skulk devours, and Cub manages one last cry before he’s pulled down into the dark.

#hermitcraft #fanfiction #hermithorrorweek2023 #magpie feather quill #i am SO tired oh my god #i managed to finish ch 5 today though!#so tomorrow's chapter is good to go (though may also be up late i have plans tomorrow evening as well)#and then saturday i gotta try and finish this thing #wish me luck #and i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime

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janetbrown711 · 2 years

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To Be Alone (Again)

Sun Wukong hates being immortal for many reasons, but mostly with how death and his responsibilities never go away.

tw for Major Character Death and slight suicidal thoughts

Ao3 link

A world without Sun Wukong was something he thought about often– sometimes even fantasized about.

Of course he loved his unending eternal life with its peaches, its waterfalls, its friendships that last a lifetime and then they die and he’s left alone again, its…

…

Every couple of centuries Wukong would try the whole disappearing thing, but someone always saw him and of course the moment there was any kind of danger, mortals would search far and wide for the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, pleading for his assistance. He never had the heart to say no (not since the days of Tang Sanzeng) but it wasn’t exactly fulfilling anymore.

The longer he lived the more he understood mortality is what gave life purpose for mortals– without that what was Wukong living for? Whether or not Wukong slayed the demon, death would come for whole cities eventually. He had personally tried to stop death’s cruel hand many times, but it seemed he was only ever able to save himself.

And great heavens, what a mistake that was.

To watch people he cared about die over, and over again….

It had started with the monkeys on Flower Fruit Island– he was their king and grew to love every one of them as a proper leader should but as he went off and trained with the immortal sage Subhodi and gained his first “layer of immortality” and he started to watch as they started to get kidnapped and die off again and again…

He tried not to care, briefly teaching them to fight before deciding to mess around with demons and dragon kings, getting some nice alliances and some sweet weapons (like his staff– thank you Dragon of the East) and was invited to be a court member in heaven, but even that didn’t last long as he just made himself enemies with practically everyone there, which eventually got him trapped under that mountain for five hundred years…

Ah, classic Sun Wukong: Making friends with those who can die, and pushing away those who can’t, creating an eternal cycle of loneliness.

If he had a yuan for every time he either pushed someone away or got someone killed, he’d have enough for at least 500 human retirements.

…

The death of Tang Sanzeng, Ao Lie and Sha Wujing– heck, even Zhu Bajie– hurt more than Monkey ever thought a death could.

Tang Sanzeng had died peacefully, as he was owed. He lived a long life knowing he had done much good and reached ultimately enlightenment. The whole world seemed to light candles for Tang Sanzeng, but Wukong liked to think his and the other pilgrim’s burnt the brightest– especially the private altar in Flower Fruit Mountain.

On that altar, he also made a little origami man… it didn’t do him justice, but it made Wukong smile sometimes…

Ao Lie had decided his own life came to an end after seeing and helping to raise five generations of descendants, and had had a long chat with Wukong about life and of how long ago the journey was and how it also felt like it was just yesterday. Wukong envied him– a part of him wished he wasn’t stone and that he could have descendants and that he could just choose to stop existing– but being stone and immortal six times over meant those were off the table…

Wukong left a candle at his altar, as well as a little origami horse.

Sha Wujing died protecting a town from a storm caused by a demon who stabbed him right in the chest thirty times for his kindness. Wukong had all but torn the demon limb for limb at the news, and mourned on Flower Fruit Mountain for a hundred years.

A little blue man was added to the collection.

Zhu Bajie… Wukong never said this, but he always thought Zhu Bajie would somehow outlive him. Of course Wukong didn’t know how it’d be possible, but he always hoped for it anyway. The two were so similar and yet so different– it caused a rift in his reality when he discovered he had died after a demon attacked his family (Zhu Bajie had a family?!). The demon had been killed by Zhu Bajie but not before he was poisoned too, and they died together.

Wukong was the only one left to light incense and candles…

And a pink pig man finished his shrine.

…

He spent the next milenia alone, so… so alone…

He went back to Flower Fruit Mountain, but he locked his home, locked up his weapons, and hardened his stone heart until the next inevitable mortal banged on his door for his help. Then Wukong would grab his staff, kill the demon in one smack, and head back.

Though of course, there was Macaque.

Macaque, Macaque, Macaque.

Wukong thinks perhaps he once loved him, but Macaque had gone totally apeshit on him one day (no pun intended). The battle was legendary (according to whatever dweebus scholar was watching) and it seemed every milenia or so that he showed up always ended with bloody faces, bloody fists, and solidified hatred.

Sun Wukong always pushed away those who could understand him.

He’d spend centuries alone until some mortal needed him or Macaque wanted to fuck with him again. Any break in this pattern was a mistake– something that only ever hurt the Great Sage– something he should have never done.

…

So why did he agree to take on a student…

Wukong didn’t know what it was– his eager smile, the way he caused absolute destruction everywhere he went because he had absolutely no control over his staff or powers, or if it was his light hearted humor that reminded him of a younger him, but he… wanted to train him.

It was kind of fun seeing a kid that small pick up his staff and start swinging it around anyway– Wukong treated it like entertainment at first.

But then the kid gave up invincibility and started picking fights or jumping into some that had nothing to do with him.

It SHOULD have been the other way around, but MK was too… heroic. In that way, he was the opposite of a younger Sun Wukong. He always wanted to save people, to belong, to bring justice to the world. Wukong grew to admire that spirit.

He grew to like a lot of things about the kid– it started to hurt when he saw how often the kid tried to throw that away.

That was another thing about mortals… no matter how many times you try and tell them they often did stupid shit that often made their already impossibly short lives even shorter. Yeah, Wukong used to be (okay– IS) very impulsive, but he has immortality! These mortals don’t– why did some people always want to protect him-??? He was the protector dammit.

MK especially liked to protect him– and it made Wukong furious every time.

Like right now for example– when they were fighting a very, very, very old enemy of his– The Demon King of… shoot, was it Havoc or Confusion…

“KID!” Wukong shouted, as MK pushed away his mentor from the slice of the Demon King’s sword. MK tumbled to the ground with a thud, making Wukong gnash his teeth as he took the staff from MK and made this fight a lot more equal.

“Haha! Your mortal pet is even more foolish and impulsive than you, Sun Wukong!” The demon flashed his sharp teeth.

Wukong didn’t dignify the remark with a reply, instead choosing to make himself as large as the demon king, which caused him to start retreating.

It was then Wukong started to have fun again.

He not only blocked and parried, he went to sweep the leg, he whacked his back, he smacked him over the head and when he fell to the ground, he pointed his staff at the demon king’s neck.

“Any last words?” Wukong grinned.

The demon king chuckled.

“You can kill me all you want, Sun Wukong, but you will never get them back–”

The words barely hung in the air before Wukong put the staff through his neck repeatedly, finally killing him.

Wukong shrank down to his regular size and zipped his way on his cloud back to MK.

“Hey kid– what the hell was that?! I had it handled— you know I can literally regrow my head if it comes off, you didn’t have to do that,” He crossed his arms. MK groaned.

“Call it impulse,” MK chuckled and sat upright, clutching his side. “Where’s everyone he kidnapped?”

“A few mountains over. Are you alright kid?” Wukong examined his successor.

“Oh yeah– might’ve broken a rib or something– let’s just fly on over and save them,” MK assured with a big grin, and while Wukong didn’t know if he believed him quite yet, he let MK on the cloud and they flew away, with MK gawking at the Demon King of Havoc/Confusion(???)s corpse, which was starting to dissolve into maggots and other such unseenly creatures.

“You know I’m immortal right? AND invincible– you really shouldn’t be taking any hits for me– if anything I’M the living shield,” Wukong decided to scold him some more.

MK sighed, but quickly cringe in regret, holding his side.

“See what I mean? You mortals are all soft and squishy– I’ll get you to a hospital soon but this is exactly what I’m talking about kid,” Wukong sighed, picking up his speed.

“Y-yeah, I guess it was kind of dumb,” MK admitted.

Well at least he was getting it now…

“You can’t prevent his death forever, Wukong. Soon enough the Ten Kings of Death will find his name and he’ll be gone forever and ever and ever and ever—”

Wukong forced his cloud even faster, and before they knew it they were at the Demon King of Confusion/Havoc maybe–’s cave. It was a rather standard mountain from the outside, having a massive iron door depicting his epic successes and conquests over the years. Such boastfulness was standard for Wukong to see, but the depictions of his old monkey friends and subjects being kidnapped and eaten made him furious.

“You want to do the honors, kid?” Wukong held out the staff for MK to take as he dissipated the cloud. However, instead of standing like he was supposed to, MK fell to his knees, holding the staff in his left hand and his side with his right.

“Yo– MK– what’s going on? If you want me to take all the credit, you can just say–”

And that’s when Sun Wukong saw it.

Blood.

And lots of it.

It was all over the hand that had been holding his side, and was soaking his white shirt under his usual yellow hoodie.

“You goddamned mortals and your goddamned blood,” Wukong whispered under his breath, desperate to think of a way to fix this. But Sun Wukong was not a healer, no no no– he was a fighter. A poisoner. A destroyer of friendships, and the creature he hates most in this world.

“H-hey, it’s fine Monkey King, I’m totally fine– we gotta save those prisoners and then we’ll be home free,” MK grinned.

“No. You aren’t going anywhere but a hospital– there are probably demon guards in the prison– why did you have to take the shot for me kid?! I can handle this shit– you can’t!” Wukong went back to yelling.

“Impulse, like I said– now lets go,” MK tried to stand up, but cried in pain, which made Wukong’s alarms flare more.

“Stop trying to sit up! Jeez kid– who taught you to fight–?” He internally face palmed for asking such a stupid question.

“You did, genius.“

“The suicidally impulsive monkey king decided to become a mentor and is somehow surprised the kid became just as stupid as him.”

“I-i think I messed up my wrists, haha,” MK smiled, but beads of sweat were gathering on his face as he was starting to grow paler and paler.

“H-hey now, stay with me bud– I just gotta take you to a hospital, and then everything’ll be okay,” Wukong tried to scoop him up, but that made MK cry out again.

“ACK-! I-I’m sorry kid– I’m not a healer–”

“Of course you’re not. It’s never been relevant to you. You have never needed healing, so why bother learning?“

Wukong wished his brain would shut the hell up already.

“S’okay, really. I-I’m totally a-okay,” MK tried to assure.

That was another thing about mortals.

They loved denying death almost as much as they loved to chance it.

Wukong helped MK onto the ground where it was easier for him to breathe. He tore off the sleeves of his shirt and tried to wrap it around the wound, but all that did was make MK cringe and tears fall.

“Holy cow– we have got to get you to a hospital kiddo, th-this isn’t good, I can’t–” Wukong didn’t want to finish his sentence.

“Y-yeah, not my brightest move,” MK started to close his eyes. Panicked, the ever-so-wise Great Sage Equal to Heaven slapped him.

“Stay with me kid! I swear on the Jade emperor’s throne– I’m not going to lose you too–!” Wukong slapped a hand over his mouth, but the words were already said.

Fuck– he had said it.

He had finally said it.

A-and now there were tears.

Tang Sanzeng, Ao Lie, Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing…

And now MK.

God– curse his stupid brain for allowing himself to think of him like that– for getting so attached– he was supposed to know better than this by now.

“M-me too?” MK managed a weak smile. “Y-you… you love me?”

Wukong wiped his eyes. “O-of course I do, bud… I-i…”

He wasn’t supposed to say that either.

“Y-you’re my successor, MK. A-and with all you��ve been through– I-i… gah, what am I saying,” Wukong muttered that last part to himself.

He wasn’t supposed to be saying any of this. He was supposed to be guarded– why did he let himself get this attached to a mortal again– it only ever ended in pain.

“I-i love you too, Monkey King. Y-you’re like the bà I never had,” MK took the Monkey King’s hand.

Bà…

Wukong had always wanted descendants… He wanted to watch as his family tree continued to grow and grow and grow until even he couldn’t keep track of them all…

“S-sorry that’s–”

“No, kid, I-i… Just hold on, okay?! You aren’t going to die– not here, not now– hell– not ever,” Wukong swore, falling fully into the human delusion that death would stray if you shouted it hard enough.

“W-we have to free the prisoners together, remember? You and I– we’re right here, bud! C’mon, I’ll help you up,” Wukong said, forcing a smile and trying to stand but his legs were trembling, and he fell back down as his knees buckled.

“N-no, even better- the prisoners aren’t going anywhere– I-I’ll just go fly and get you a doctor– yes, yes, that’s what I’ll do– i’ll get a doctor,” Wukong started to summon a cloud, but MK grabbed his pant leg, squeezing it as hard as he could and crying.

“Please don’t leave me…”

It was a whisper that rang in Wukong’s head as loud as a firework. He instantly let it dissolve and went and put his student’s head in his lap. MK was shaking now, which only made his wound hurt more.

Shit– if only Wukong could remember any of those old healing sutras Tang Sanzeng tried to teach him a millennia ago… but of course, he hadn’t listened because when did Sun Wukong ever listen?!

“It’s alright, bud, I-I’m here,” Wukong forced a pathetic laugh, holding MK’s hand again and giving it a tight squeeze.

“I-i’m sorry I got in the way– Y-you’re the immortal one.”

“Bah– I don’t know what the hell I’m saying, kiddo. I’ve never done this before– I just– I just–”

“I haven’t done this before either. A-and I wish I could say I’ll do better next time, b-but I don’t think there’ll– ngh– be a next time,” MK breath started to become a lot more shaky too.

“No, no, no, don’t say that– you were a great student, You managed your impulses a lot better than I ever have– a-and if you think I’ve never been scared then you’re so wrong– I’m scared right now!”

MK laughed a little, but it caused him to roll in pain. “I-i’m sorry, I-i never wanted to scare you–”

“It’s my fault for getting attached,” Wukong laughed pathetically, wiping his eyes. “I-i know mortals are like this– I just…”

“Y-you really tore that guy apart there… thanks for the justice,” MK tried to wink.

“Stop making me laugh– this is– this is a nightmare,” Wukong shifted MK so he was being cradled in his arms.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t become immortal… I-i should’ve studied more o-or something– I never could just– focus, you know?”

“Of course I do, kiddo. I’m the Monkey King– I practically invented hyperactivity and impulsiveness. A-and you were great– If I could give you a piece of my immortality I would right here, right now…” Wukong hugged him a little tighter, knowing what he said was impossible.

“Thanks bà…”

“A-any time bud. J-just… just say the word and I’ll– I’ll be so fucking proud– I’ll compliment you so much even the Jade Emperor would be jealous– I’m sorry you ever felt so worthless– I’ve been such a lousy mentor i-i–”

“I-it’s okay Bà, i-it’s fine now. J-just tell Mei and ‘em I said ‘hi’ and ‘sorry’, o-okay?” MK hand was getting shakier, his grip looser.

That was another thing.

Mortals usually leave other mortals behind too…

But then they’d die and they’d die and they’d die and then it was like that original person never existed at all…

“I-i… I will…” Wukong didn’t know if he meant it yet.

“I-i love you, bà,” MK smiled and went to reach Wukong’s face…

But the arm fell halfway.

Wukong stared down in disbelief.

“M-MK?” he called. He set him down, giving his face a small tap.

“M-MK, stay with me bud– y-you still got a lot of training– I was just kidding before– it’s not okay, you need to come back– I don’t want to be all alone again– I-i-i–”

Nothing.

Wukong touched his son’s lifeless face, looking at his glassy eyes.

Wukong let out a cry so loud all the court of heaven heard and knew what had happened.

Wukong didn’t care if they knew.

Sun Wukong was on his own again.

#my fics #lmk #lego monkie kid #sun wukong #mk lego monkie kid #major character death #tw suicidal thoughts #angst #hurt no comfort #immortality #paaaain #tw blood #maybe???#idk it's not too detailed #god i am so fucking tired #i'm gonna regret staying up this late in the morning #oh well fhkdsa;fjdas;f #too late now

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