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@nikolasartist
Owl love🥺🤏
You keep failing, Sans 😞🙃
Bill? 😲🙊
Isn't it cruel? 💔Sun Wukong x Macaque 🍑
Pathetic, like a dog chasing the past," echoed in the walls of his brain, making Makaka grimace uncomfortably.
He already knew this. His inner demons only made his self-loathing worse by reminding him of it over and over again every time he visited this place. They mocked him. They mocked him for trampling on the flowers of the past and then trying to restore them by transplanting them from one pot to another until they wilted under his own hands.
Their place had not changed. Only now it was quiet, like a cemetery, which in a sense it had become. The warm memories were gone. There was no laughter at stupid jokes. No conversations, no stargazing. How much time had passed? A year? Two? A hundred years or maybe a century? It doesn't matter.
The yellow pupils already knew what they were looking at: an old stone. So old that in some places the once mighty stone began to crack, leaving only dust behind. Life came from dust, and in dust it will fade away. Over time, houses lose their strength and collapse. All living things die when the time comes, and become another part of life, continuing to exist even without having a self. But... is this life? You become nothing more than a figure with strings that are skillfully pulled by a perfect manipulator - the Universe. It has existed, exists and will continue to exist, so it is not difficult for it to know where to take you, what to do with you and how to make it look good.
You are dead, but you continue to be used in a circle.
His dark fur lifted slightly from the frosty wind that aptly stirred his thoughts as they came to the juicy part. His own death.
What did Mac himself think about that? Let's be realistic. Who the hell wants to experience a painful death and lose their own eye? Who wants to feel a knife in the back from someone for whom you were ready to give your life? Who wants to be left alone in a cold hole in the ground, and then resurrected to find themselves face to face with the world, now nothing more than a shadow of their former self? This was the moment when Makaka felt for the first time in his life what it was like to be afraid and... to hate everyone he loved and valued in his life at the same time. No one stood up for him. No one had his back. It was painful. Without using any force, his heart was torn out by the roots without even doing so.
Is this your great power, monkey king? There are no rules for a king. Destroy, kill, go ahead!
- "Peach, don't be angry, the ghost of former lover suddenly whispered in ear, which took breath away, "will you forgive me? I'm so-o-o-o sorry," which made smile mockingly. Hmm. Wukong and repentance? Not in this world.
Meanwhile, the ghost of memories whispered the last word and lowered his lips a little lower, his warm lips touching the cold skin of Makak's neck.
The familiar herd of ants crawled all over his body, cruelly throwing him into the hateful memories of his youth and blind love. He was blind, too blind. He trusted someone with his back and heart.
Now, in contrast to love, something dark and slippery was rising from within, impregnating the new shadow self. A burning thirst for revenge.
With all his might, the demon kicked the very stone he had been staring at for the last few minutes. But in response, the stone remained intact, as if in mockery, only here and there succumbing to the cracks of time.
- "Yes... you're sorry," Macauq whispered bitterly as he sat down on the cold, snowy ground.
The winter would be cold. It already was, making his tail go numb. Once, in a better life, he had loved winter. It was beautiful, though very cold. It was quite ironic coming from someone who hated the cold, which he did. But... all the winter landscapes were worth it. It was worth spending hours looking at the winter mountains and then returning home without any feeling in fingers or tail. Every laugh caused by a single snowflake was worth it.
But sooner or later, everything in our lives can lose value. Neither a thousand new landscapes nor a thousand new snowflakes, even every day, are worth a penny anymore. Now they are relics of the past, nothing more.
The ice that chills to the bone became his new cruel life. And the bone demon has become his winter cage and shackles, making him hate what he loved in the past. Not only that, he is now nothing more than a pawn: do this, bring that, kill those. He cannot say no.
Or does he not want to?
They were too much united by something... a desire for revenge. Wukong dreamed of supporters, of his own greatness. But so far he has made more enemies than subjects. A great king, eh?
"- I tell you, I will be the greatest king! I will have many loyal subordinates who will glorify me. And my army will not be equal even to the soldiers of heaven!" Wukong told his dreams loudly under the tree to his own shadow. - "You know I won't stop, right? So why don't you come out?
In response, the future king received only silence, which made him make a disgruntled face like a child. He was getting angry. How could Macaque ignore him?
- Okay, just keep sitting there!" He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away, trying to show his indifference.
His orange tail, on the other hand, betrayed his emotions by swinging rapidly from side to side. Suddenly, a sigh broke the silence between them. Wukong, without realizing it, smiled with satisfaction. Today, the victory was his.
- You are such a child. Do you know what it's like to have your own space and want to be alone?" - A low baritone voice came from the shadows, but the proud and offended monkey remained silent, not even looking up: "Wukong, I'm not going to run after you.
This statement pierced the red ape like a knife through the heart.
His overly boastful brain interpreted it almost as a confession of treason. How is this possible? Isn't that what lovers do? Follow each other at some point? Even run after each other?
Or maybe an adult romance has messed up Wukong's idea of a normal relationship too much? The stubbornness and pride of these two deserve each other, and this will be the main factor that will not allow them to meet for a long time in such a situation.
The too sweet and warm feeling of memories now causes only bitterness and painful residue inside. All their dreams, actions, and desires have long since died, without waiting for any resurrection. However, it seemed to the monkey king that this was not a bad thing in principle. He spent his retirement in glory, having only himself and his entertainment, not looking for remorse for his own atrocities. As always in his style. His selfish style.
And let's not forget about his successor! Macaque was honored to watch him personally from the shadows. It was like going back in time to Wukong Jr. at the beginning of his career. The picture of this made it clear what a terrible teacher the monkey king was, if his student was tossed from side to side by emotions and his own strength. No support, no advice for improvement. In fact, the shadowy one felt sorry for the boy. Mk was still a child who needed real guidance and support. Just like parents help with walking and talking, but the young man was "lucky" to fall into the hands of a child only a few centuries older than him.
He already had a whole plan, involving the child, to finally take sweet revenge on Wukong. Mk's own insecurities would play well into his hands, setting a good trap. Sorry, kid, nothing against you, just personal.
- You know, I hate you," after much thought, the six-eared man finally turned to the stone on which the old silhouettes of their drawing were visible, "so much that I would like to kill you like you killed me," he bared his teeth, not taking his eyes off the drawn Wukong, "I want you to feel what it's like to live in hell and pain. And I promise to do that, remember. I'm sorry about Mk, he's a pretty good guy, but he's so blinded by you that he doesn't even see your true form," after a long speech, the shadow exhaled like a balloon that began to deflate, "just like I did many years ago. "I hope you're not going to kill him, huh?" - now the hatred turned more into a kind of actor's mockery that spoke to the king's drawing, "though, no. I'll do it to you first," a nervous laugh escaped his lips.
The wind began to howl louder, carrying a new portion of snow. It was time to go, staying in the snow was not part of the plan.
- "Have a bad New Year, Wukong," Makak whispered before disappearing into one of his portals.
Today, he would definitely move as far away from people's favorite places as possible, hiding in the shadows of loud celebrations so as not to cause any more pain to his overly sensitive ears.
Now these are the only such "celebrations" in his life. Isn't it cruel?
Я намагаюся просувати свій фанфік якомога більше, пха.
The last sun before we die (Jaison Kolchek/Mreader; Salim Othman/Mreader)
- Will you eat it? The unidentified man calmly, without a hint of hostility, handed the surprised Iraqi a cereal bar and began to eat his own. It all looked so damned unreal, so much so that the Iranian soldier nervously burst out laughing as he continued to eat. - Why? - the foreigner suddenly asked the pilot in English. - Believe me, starving to death is the worst thing you can do in the end. Damn, the monsters make me hungry.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Even the most resilient of people would go crazy from the heat, losing some measure of sanity under the scorching rays for a while. You lose a complete understanding of work, its meaning, and question whether want to do it to the best of ability. Or is it better to quit, saving your own skin and comfort. The small amount of fluid in the body was now more annoying than supporting the system of the tired body, unpleasantly making the T-shirt stick tightly to the wet curves of the body.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
It's endless. A vicious circle that seems to go on forever, driving you crazy about the most ordinary things. The ticking of the wristwatch on left hand not only pushes him to smash it against the rocks, but also causes unpleasant cramps in the Marine's lower abdomen. It looked like a countdown to something big, as people say: a bad feeling? Or maybe the man was starting to go a little crazy, because even his partners seemed to completely ignore the sounds of their own similar watches.
At that thought, the man exhaled desperately and kicked a small pebble with all his might, hitting another pair of military boots standing nearby with precision and clarity. Okay, the word "precisely" doesn't fit here, it was more like a crooked and bad kick that immediately sent the pebble in the opposite direction
- Whoa! Careful, sniper, what if I lose my leg? Now is not the time for training on live targets, especially if it's me
- Ha-ha, very funny, Nicky,- the infantryman snorted, adjusting his military panama hat for the hundredth time, which treacherously fell over his eyes with every movement of his head, - but doesn't the fact that I chose you as a target show my love for you? - the man batted his eyelashes at the last words, covering the lower part of his face as if trying to hide his blush.
- Then you'd better hate me, Chris.
- Not you, so Jason will love me. Right, Kolcek?
- Or I'll hate you both together.
Another snort escaped uncontrollably, turning into a laugh with occasional grunts. It sounded as if the seagull had turned into a pig that had failed and was beginning to die. The laughter was so uncontrollable that the infantryman could only bend in half and lean on his knees to keep from falling. The rifle that was now hanging on his back periodically slapped him with each burst of laughter, leaving behind a not deafening sound. The man could no longer control his own grunting and tried to hide the remnants of his shame and dignity with the bandana tied around his neck. Through the laughter, Stokes caught his partners' small remarks to each other:
- Did I have something on my face? - Jason asked with sincere surprise and a slightly distinctive American accent of the area where he lived.
- Should I tell you the truth or be nice?
- Nick, do you want me to be gentle or cruel?
- I have to ask, what exactly do you give me in the choice?
Poor Chris crossed the line so far that it might have been considered normal laughter, as his normally tanned face began to change colors catastrophically quickly to red and gasp for breath.This shame will stay with him to the grave.
The bending of his body eventually forced the annoying panama hat to fall to the ground, falling mercilessly into the dust and dirt. Christopher didn't really care about it, and moreover, the object that had been covering his eyes was finally gone, and life became brighter. In the literal sense. However, the internal celebration of this kind of liberation was short-lived, because something more valuable, much more valuable, like a treasure, fell from head. His life-worn glasses, the lenses of which were scratched and irrevocably stained in some places, the left temple of which had been taped over a dozen times, fell to the ground with a soft thud, pulling out a few hairs.
The laughter stopped instantly, replaced by horror as the man crouched down and picked up the object he needed. Blind as a mole, Stokes began to test it by touch, running his fingers over the cool surface of the glass, and almost immediately breathed a sigh of relief when he found no cracks. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the taped left temple of the glasses, which was betrayed by the tape, which came off due to dust, making it crooked and unstable again.
- Bitch, - the infantryman shamelessly cursed under his breath as he continued to feel for the tape in his pockets.
- Let me help you, - a familiar accent said very close to his ear
Someone else's exhalation in ear caused herds of ants to run through body, disarming mind like a fever, and feeling hands almost suddenly sweat as clutched the fragile thing tightly. To hell with it, the soldier was now grateful for the merciless Iranian sun and the previous bout of laughter that had hidden the insidious redness of his cheeks caused by something more personal.
Chris realized that Jason had come so close only to avoid frightening his blind partner, nothing more, but one slightly raspy voice with a southern American accent was enough to lose all concentration. Jason's voice was unapologetically funny at some points, due to the place of his birth, which made some words sound peculiar, but somehow it felt so new and familiar at the same time that Stokes not only wanted to, but craved to talk to Kolchek more, listening to every letter and sound. It sounded alive, not perfect and real.
- Thank you, - the American whispered uncomfortably, blindly handing over his glasses as a pair of hands took them away.
- Isn't that why I'm here? Marines do not abandon each other.
- Semper Fi, right? Even if it's just to glue my glasses for the hundredth time?
- Semper Fi. Even in the thousandth.
Bored in anticipation, the man tried to look at the environment and everything in it without his glasses. He understood perfectly well that God would not grant him enlightenment and restore his sight, but it was so interesting to kill boredom from time to time by drawing new pictures over and over again from the usual boring landscapes of everyday life. The whole world turned into a cluster of different colors and shapes, a complete abstraction. Van Gogh would have been jealous. It was just a pity that Stokes had no talent or desire to paint, so that more people than himself could see it. This entertainment did not last long, as a lump came to his throat and a wild desire to empty his stomach. The side effects of his "artistic vision" in the form of vomiting came almost instantly, as soon as he was without glasses for even five minutes.
- Close your eyes and count to ten, slowly. With each count, exhale deeply, - Kolchek's voice whispered in ear again, like a haunting curse, drawing everyone's attention to him and his hand, which began to slowly stroke back under the rifle.
- Water, perhaps?
Nick finally reminded of his presence in time, giving Christopher relief and the opportunity to breathe with a full lung when Jason's attention was distracted.
- I'm more in need of good eyesight, an endless supply of glasses and protein bars, but thanks.
- Eternally hungry.
- You always smoke like a chimney.
- Blind.
- Giant.
- It's done.
- Gods, Jason, you're my life saver!
- And I offered water, so without me you will die under the sun in the next few hours, because of your own stupidity. I will not miss you.
This phrase will play a role in your future
- Yes, yes, I hate you too, but tell me how bad the cosmetic repair of my glasses looks. No, I'd rather you both tell me how bad it is on a scale of one to ten.
- Ouch, so cruel to Jason's help,- the black man teased.
- But he's the only one who came to help, Nicky, - Chris countered, - so what? How do you rate your own work? - his emerald eyes bore into the brunette in the cap.
The cruel internal irony was waiting for one good comment to come along, as an incentive and support to stay with this pair of glasses as long as possible, no matter how shitty they looked. He was not ready to get rid of them, the wounds were too fresh and would only start bleeding violently if he tore off the band-aid that served as the old, shabby glasses. As he waited, Chris never took his eyes off Kolchek's dark and mesmerizing eyes, which seemed to bring everyone to their knees if they wanted to. They resembled a combination of dark chocolate dipped in honey, but if the man stood a little to the side, at an angle of the sun's rays, the lighting changed the deep look to something warm, and the surface of the dark chocolate simply melted into a milky chocolate that tasted great with tea. It would seem that a coherent answer to this question could have come immediately, given that each of them knew the real answer, but Jason suddenly capitulated, looking away and coughing into his fist as he returned to his patrol. Kolchek was not very good at such matters, which could and even should have touched his empathic side, especially complicated by his bluntness and not always being able to keep the truth behind his teeth. The man tried to avoid it, being soft now could mean an untimely death, emotions were something they, Marines, had to be able to keep under control. However, the brunette failed, time after time, a stupid smile creeping onto his face, as soon as he looked at his partners, who were no longer strangers from the beginning of their service, now they were brothers, his only friends in all these years, with whom it was impossible to be a cold wall.
Semper Fi was now their motto for life.
The unpleasant morning abdominal cramps have been replaced by new painful sensations in my chest that take my breath away. This is what disappointment tastes like. Exhaling sharply through the gap between his front teeth, Stokes finally picked up his own panama hat, shaking off the dirt and dust that had managed to penetrate the dark green fabric, making it a point to take a proper shower later, because he would no longer be sure of the cleanliness of his hair. It was quite surprising how, in a few seconds, the hated part of the wardrobe became much more interesting than all the subsequent looks and conversations.
- Well,- Chris finally broke the uncomfortable silence with a dry smile, - your answers are eloquent without words, I'm going to go mourn it over a cigarette. Thank you in advance, Nicky, for the lighter and the cigarette itself.
- But I didn't give you anything...- Nicholas added with suspicion, rustling his hands in his pockets. - You did! How!?
- Sleight of hand, my dear friend, sleight of hand,- Chris replied, twirling the stolen lighter he had already removed between his fingers and stepping outside the small checkpoint, pulling his panama hat back over head.
- Don't let your guard down, okay?
That was the last thing that reached Chris's ears in Jason's last moments of silence, but now it was Kolchek's turn to catch the silence and his friend's stingy nod
Almost instantly, the scorching and dry air of the area hit his tanned face, forcing Christopher to squint, habitually expecting a grain of sand to hit his eyes. Having escaped from the merciless nature, the marine decided to lean against the wall of their small checkpoint, where he leaned his weapon as a ritual and did the same. The heated wall wasn't much fun for the smoker, only making his damp T-shirt and sweat-soaked bandana stick to body more. But it served its purpose quite well for the moment, like protection from the blazing Iranian sun or the occasional sandy wind, so Stokes wasn't complaining, especially since he'd been exposed to worse conditions, so it could even be called a luxury in a way.
The new portion of nicotine made cough a little, just like the first time. It seemed that the man would never be able to take a drag properly and properly from the first time, almost dying in a coughing fit from the smoke in his lungs. Someone could stop it, why make yourself suffer over and over again for something that destroys you and can even kill you in the long run?
Addiction can be more than just a cigarette, bottle or drug. Addictions take on human images, traits, and cover the spectrum of the addict's emotions, making it impossible to stop. Who knows, maybe we are all born addicted, but the activation and development of the catalyst occurs uniquely for everyone. At different times, ages, or situations.
Chris doesn't remember when he became an addict. Moreover, he doesn't see himself as such, and cigarette after cigarette doesn't change the infantryman's mind. It became part of the process, like hunger or thirst or even air. The body needs, demands, and destroys itself when at least one process is ignored. The language does not turn to call what has become a part of you an addiction.
In other words, it is too weak to admit it to yourself.
The sound of an earpiece in right ear instantly brought out of his thoughts, forcing to drop his cigarette in surprise.
- Columbus, this is Mailman Two - One Actual. An unknown person is approaching, be prepared for any eventuality. Over.
- This is Columbus. The order was adopted.Over.
His hands quickly picked up the weapon, automatically remembering to check the magazine for ammunition and receiving his own acknowledgment of readiness, Chris cautiously peered out from behind the wall through the scope, looking at the unknown. It was a small and frail figure, looking like a civilian. The figure walked along holding something in his hands, clutching some packages to his chest, which made the marine feel tense from not knowing what it could be, and his finger squeezed the trigger slightly, but not firing, waiting for further orders.
- Stop right there, - Kolchek's loud and steely voice rang out, - and provide the contents of your packages. If you do not comply, we will open fire.
A chill ran down spine as he realized the true gravity of the situation. The radical methods of shooting to kill, brought Christopher to a cold, even icy and sticky fear in the pit of his stomach. He will never be able to get used to it, and the look in the empty eyes of the dead haunts his nights, even though those dead could be the terrorists themselves. The current situation plays a major role in how the events will unfold, how many will die or survive.
One shot could have saved someone, but it could have also killed them if it was a civilian.
- Damn it, Jason, she's not stopping.
- You think I can't see that, Nick?
- Then... should I follow the order? - Kay asked in a whisper, uncertain, even a little afraid.
- Yes. Shoot, buddy,- Kolchek said immediately, without a doubt, trying to contact Chris again. - Columbus, this is Mailman Two - One Actual. Come back to us. Over.
The silence in response made the man frown in displeasure, repeating the call. The uneasiness snaked under the infantryman's skin. Where the hell can you disappear to when you're just a few steps away from them?
- Columbus, this is Mailman Two - One Actual. Can you hear me? Over.
A shrill and loud female scream made Kolchek flinch, quickly turning his gaze to Nicholas, who was beginning to lose color from his own face, despite his dark skin. The body of an unidentified civilian could be seen pinned to the ground by the missing marine, while all the packages were brutally poured out without mercy, some of the food, such as some vegetables or some Iranian sweets, spilled out onto the ground. A wave of emotions washed over Jason: from relief that Stokes was alive and hadn't disappeared to anger that he had left without warning or an order to attack. However, anger quickly overwhelmed the slippery fear in his chest for the man's safety, involuntarily recalling the infamous September 11 attacks, forcing the brunette in the cap to take a quick step away from his post, raising his weapon and holding the pair in his sights. Sgt. Kay followed closely behind, but more slowly, providing the necessary cover.
The girl began to fall silent, and two of the Marines noticed the third of them finally make signs of movement, slowly rising from her, saying something. Only as they got closer did they hear Arabic, which was slightly sharp with a strong American accent.
هل أنت في أمان؟ أنا آسف لإخافتك، لكنك كنت تتصرف بشكل غير مسؤول هنا. كان يمكن أن تُقتل بسبب هذا، أتفهم؟ - ( - I'm sorry I scared you, but you were acting irresponsibly. You could have been killed for that, you know?), - the junior lieutenant spoke harshly, holding the girl's fallen headphones.
In response, he received only a new and loud girlish sob, and the girl hid behind her hands, covering her face and head, as if wanting to disappear from the men who frightened her, mostly Christopher himself, who spoke to her as if in a language both native and unknown. No wonder she was afraid of them: now, in a foreign land, they were nothing more than hated criminals or murderers associated with the war in their homeland. Chris's expression softened and his guilt blossomed into a new bouquet in his chest as he saw a frightened child, to say the least. How old was she, 17? 19?
أنا آسف- , (- I'm sorry) - the man whispered, not as harshly as before, with a hint of guilt, picking up the fallen vegetables and sweets from the ground and returning them to their place. At the same time, he inspected the packages.
A feeling of relief came out of lungs as an exhalation, realizing that there was nothing dangerous except the food. Perhaps the most dangerous thing that could have been was the sweets for diabetics.
- She is fine, just couldn't hear us through the headphones, - the feeling of a saved life washed over, making smile stupidly at Jason and Nick. لا بأس، يمكنك العودة إلى المنزل الآن - ,( - Everything's fine, you can go home.) - Chris handed her the packages, expecting the girl to come out of her shell of fear and run away from them without even looking.
But still, surprisingly, the tanned girl accepted the packages calmly, only throwing frightened glances between the three strangers until she added hoarsely with tears:
أنت... لن تقتلني وعائلتي؟ - (You... won't kill me and my family?)
أتفهم سبب اعتقادك ذلك, ( - I understand why you think so,)- Chris could not hide the disappointment in his voice, - كما ترى، كل هذه الفحوصات ضرورية فقط لضمان السلامة. من أجلنا ومن أجلك. (As you can see, all of these checks are only necessary to ensure security. For us and for your people) , - he lied. Their command never accepted the Iranian people. ألم تأخذ الحرب وقتاً كافياً لإيقاف الموت العبثي أخيراً؟ - (Was the war not enough to finally stop the senseless deaths?) ,اعتني بنفسك (Take care of yourself). - Chris helped the girl to stand up, giving her something from his pocket. - إنه لوح من الحبوب أقسم أنها ليست مسممة, (These are flakes that I swear are not poisoned,) - The marine objected to the suspicion in other people's eyes and showed up to a dozen empty wrappers from his own pockets, - ولذيذ جداً,(and very tasty.) - the man could not help but smile.
The girl's lips smiled for a split second. It was hard to tell if she was nervous or if she really decided to thank her rescuer with a smile rather than words. Carefully taking the offered treat, she did not dare to put on her headphones and almost ran in the right direction.
- What kind of friendly tea party was that, Columbus!? - Jason finally lowered his weapon, exploding in a wave of anger at his friend. - Or should I ask you first for your disappearance, for not contacting me, and for making contact with the target despite no orders?
Kolchek's cheeks flushed red from an uncontrollable outburst of screaming and anger. Who the hell was the first lieutenant on their team?
- I apologize, First Lieutenant Kolchek,- Chris spat out irritably, - but if it weren't for me, a civilian was killed for nothing.
- I see where you're going, Junior Sergeant Stokes, - the first lieutenant said, like Christopher, perhaps even with more causticity, - do you want the order immediately or after the ceremony?
- What the hell is wrong with you?!
- What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you! What if Nick had hit you? In the head? In the heart? You'd be fucking dead!
Both of them, irritated and angry, fell silent, as if not knowing what to do next. One ran away, not even thinking about the safety of his life, and the other broke into a sweat as soon as he saw the body of the first one lying on the target. The realization gradually came to mind, bringing with it a bucket of cold guilt for the two men to face each other, forcing them to look away.
- I... I hit it,- Nicholas broke the silence again, - Chris...? - he turned to Kay in a moment of excitement
Almost simultaneously with Kolchek, Stokes instantly began to examine himself, feeling his heart begin to pound nonstop, echoing in his ears, fueling his internal panic as his own hands touched his body, searching for injuries. The adrenaline was leaving body, bringing with it a wave of awareness and a tangible aching, slightly burning pain in the back under his right shoulder blade.
- Shit, you're fuking right, - Columbus whispered, gasping for breath, not so much from the wound as from internal panic.
He realized that he might have been exaggerating too much, that the wound was probably not fatal, at least the junior sergeant believed it now, to muffle the frightening pounding of his own heart. But brain was panicking, drawing picture after picture of him bleeding out irreversibly, getting infected, or dying without waiting for help because of his stupidity. The voices around him seemed to be moving away, and reality gradually disappeared like quicksand, taking the marine into its depths.
Fuck, Jason's gonna kill him for sure.
Welcome to my new story! I want to make a few warnings before you dive into reading the next chapters. This game does not belong to me and only Chris and his story are mine. Some moments will be modified, you know, it's necessary for Chris to be infused canonically and not look like a flat decoration. I can't tell you exactly who the ending will be with, it's all in the process, or even a joint ending is planned, so wait). Oh, yeah, a few more warnings: swearing, blood, traumatic moments, death. There will not be too much adult content, and most likely in the last chapters.My English is not perfect yet, so there may be mistakes. I try to improve with each text Enjoy reading!
redrawing ~
Isn't it cruel? 💔Sun Wukong x Macaque 🍑
Pathetic, like a dog chasing the past," echoed in the walls of his brain, making Makaka grimace uncomfortably.
He already knew this. His inner demons only made his self-loathing worse by reminding him of it over and over again every time he visited this place. They mocked him. They mocked him for trampling on the flowers of the past and then trying to restore them by transplanting them from one pot to another until they wilted under his own hands.
Their place had not changed. Only now it was quiet, like a cemetery, which in a sense it had become. The warm memories were gone. There was no laughter at stupid jokes. No conversations, no stargazing. How much time had passed? A year? Two? A hundred years or maybe a century? It doesn't matter.
The yellow pupils already knew what they were looking at: an old stone. So old that in some places the once mighty stone began to crack, leaving only dust behind. Life came from dust, and in dust it will fade away. Over time, houses lose their strength and collapse. All living things die when the time comes, and become another part of life, continuing to exist even without having a self. But... is this life? You become nothing more than a figure with strings that are skillfully pulled by a perfect manipulator - the Universe. It has existed, exists and will continue to exist, so it is not difficult for it to know where to take you, what to do with you and how to make it look good.
You are dead, but you continue to be used in a circle.
His dark fur lifted slightly from the frosty wind that aptly stirred his thoughts as they came to the juicy part. His own death.
What did Mac himself think about that? Let's be realistic. Who the hell wants to experience a painful death and lose their own eye? Who wants to feel a knife in the back from someone for whom you were ready to give your life? Who wants to be left alone in a cold hole in the ground, and then resurrected to find themselves face to face with the world, now nothing more than a shadow of their former self? This was the moment when Makaka felt for the first time in his life what it was like to be afraid and... to hate everyone he loved and valued in his life at the same time. No one stood up for him. No one had his back. It was painful. Without using any force, his heart was torn out by the roots without even doing so.
Is this your great power, monkey king? There are no rules for a king. Destroy, kill, go ahead!
- "Peach, don't be angry, the ghost of former lover suddenly whispered in ear, which took breath away, "will you forgive me? I'm so-o-o-o sorry," which made smile mockingly. Hmm. Wukong and repentance? Not in this world.
Meanwhile, the ghost of memories whispered the last word and lowered his lips a little lower, his warm lips touching the cold skin of Makak's neck.
The familiar herd of ants crawled all over his body, cruelly throwing him into the hateful memories of his youth and blind love. He was blind, too blind. He trusted someone with his back and heart.
Now, in contrast to love, something dark and slippery was rising from within, impregnating the new shadow self. A burning thirst for revenge.
With all his might, the demon kicked the very stone he had been staring at for the last few minutes. But in response, the stone remained intact, as if in mockery, only here and there succumbing to the cracks of time.
- "Yes... you're sorry," Macauq whispered bitterly as he sat down on the cold, snowy ground.
The winter would be cold. It already was, making his tail go numb. Once, in a better life, he had loved winter. It was beautiful, though very cold. It was quite ironic coming from someone who hated the cold, which he did. But... all the winter landscapes were worth it. It was worth spending hours looking at the winter mountains and then returning home without any feeling in fingers or tail. Every laugh caused by a single snowflake was worth it.
But sooner or later, everything in our lives can lose value. Neither a thousand new landscapes nor a thousand new snowflakes, even every day, are worth a penny anymore. Now they are relics of the past, nothing more.
The ice that chills to the bone became his new cruel life. And the bone demon has become his winter cage and shackles, making him hate what he loved in the past. Not only that, he is now nothing more than a pawn: do this, bring that, kill those. He cannot say no.
Or does he not want to?
They were too much united by something... a desire for revenge. Wukong dreamed of supporters, of his own greatness. But so far he has made more enemies than subjects. A great king, eh?
"- I tell you, I will be the greatest king! I will have many loyal subordinates who will glorify me. And my army will not be equal even to the soldiers of heaven!" Wukong told his dreams loudly under the tree to his own shadow. - "You know I won't stop, right? So why don't you come out?
In response, the future king received only silence, which made him make a disgruntled face like a child. He was getting angry. How could Macaque ignore him?
- Okay, just keep sitting there!" He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away, trying to show his indifference.
His orange tail, on the other hand, betrayed his emotions by swinging rapidly from side to side. Suddenly, a sigh broke the silence between them. Wukong, without realizing it, smiled with satisfaction. Today, the victory was his.
- You are such a child. Do you know what it's like to have your own space and want to be alone?" - A low baritone voice came from the shadows, but the proud and offended monkey remained silent, not even looking up: "Wukong, I'm not going to run after you.
This statement pierced the red ape like a knife through the heart.
His overly boastful brain interpreted it almost as a confession of treason. How is this possible? Isn't that what lovers do? Follow each other at some point? Even run after each other?
Or maybe an adult romance has messed up Wukong's idea of a normal relationship too much? The stubbornness and pride of these two deserve each other, and this will be the main factor that will not allow them to meet for a long time in such a situation.
The too sweet and warm feeling of memories now causes only bitterness and painful residue inside. All their dreams, actions, and desires have long since died, without waiting for any resurrection. However, it seemed to the monkey king that this was not a bad thing in principle. He spent his retirement in glory, having only himself and his entertainment, not looking for remorse for his own atrocities. As always in his style. His selfish style.
And let's not forget about his successor! Macaque was honored to watch him personally from the shadows. It was like going back in time to Wukong Jr. at the beginning of his career. The picture of this made it clear what a terrible teacher the monkey king was, if his student was tossed from side to side by emotions and his own strength. No support, no advice for improvement. In fact, the shadowy one felt sorry for the boy. Mk was still a child who needed real guidance and support. Just like parents help with walking and talking, but the young man was "lucky" to fall into the hands of a child only a few centuries older than him.
He already had a whole plan, involving the child, to finally take sweet revenge on Wukong. Mk's own insecurities would play well into his hands, setting a good trap. Sorry, kid, nothing against you, just personal.
- You know, I hate you," after much thought, the six-eared man finally turned to the stone on which the old silhouettes of their drawing were visible, "so much that I would like to kill you like you killed me," he bared his teeth, not taking his eyes off the drawn Wukong, "I want you to feel what it's like to live in hell and pain. And I promise to do that, remember. I'm sorry about Mk, he's a pretty good guy, but he's so blinded by you that he doesn't even see your true form," after a long speech, the shadow exhaled like a balloon that began to deflate, "just like I did many years ago. "I hope you're not going to kill him, huh?" - now the hatred turned more into a kind of actor's mockery that spoke to the king's drawing, "though, no. I'll do it to you first," a nervous laugh escaped his lips.
The wind began to howl louder, carrying a new portion of snow. It was time to go, staying in the snow was not part of the plan.
- "Have a bad New Year, Wukong," Makak whispered before disappearing into one of his portals.
Today, he would definitely move as far away from people's favorite places as possible, hiding in the shadows of loud celebrations so as not to cause any more pain to his overly sensitive ears.
Now these are the only such "celebrations" in his life. Isn't it cruel?
Friends motivated me to paint with paints, phew. (I know it may not be very good, but I'll show you anyway😤😈🐒)
Day 2. Samurai
I LOVE HOW THEY TURNED OUT!!! The concept of Samurai X in just straight up amazing and how could I not draw them toghether???
Please accept the order. One VERY hot monkey😩🍷🐒