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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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There are so many fics out there where Danny is either adopted by or the biological son of Bruce. In many of these he might have an existential crisis but other wise he is fine and happy to be part of the BatFam. Where are the ones where he fights against this just doesn't want to connect with Bruce of the rest of the family.

One: Bruce is a billionaire and Danny has had some bad experience with Vlad trying to adopt/get him as a son. So even if Bruce is one of "the good ones" Danny does't like billionaires.

Two: Danny for the most part grew up in a mostly normal family and home, with two Parents and a sibling. Most of the BatFam were only children and parents are dead or came from dysfunctional homes. I think Duke is the only one who really had a normal childhood.

Three: The Fenton family is pretty openly affectionate with each other and are pretty normal emotionally. Danny has a great relationship with all of them (Danny went evil in the timeline where they all died). Most of the Batfam is emotionally constipated.

Four: Danny is used to his boundaries being respected. I don't think that the Batfam is great at that. With Bruce needing to know everything, Tim's stalking tendencies, Barbra's hacking, just to name the obvious.

Danny knew that he was adopted into the Fentons. His parents had never hidden it from him, but they never treated him as anything besides their child.

He had come into their lives one day when one of Maddie's old high school friends had called, bawling that she had gotten pregnant and that her husband wasn't the father. He had discovered the truth and thrown her out, leaving her pregnant and alone on the streets of Gotham.

Maddie had been furious at the affair- she hated disloyalty- but had decided to help her only for the baby's sake.

She had driven over multiple state lines back to her home city to pick up the friend only to find out she had taken her life and left her newborn son to Maddie. While Maddie had been able to escape the hellhole that was Gotham, Rebecca never got the chance, not with her average intelligence.

In high school, the two were as close as sisters until Rebecca fell into the whisky bottles her father carelessly left around. She blossomed into a beautiful woman upon their graduation- more so than Maddie-, turning from a sweet homebody into someone who got into exclusive parties and powerful men.

Maddie had slowly drifted away from her, so far away at college, and Rebecca fell further and further into the party scene. It was a surprise that she settled down for marriage and Maddie truly believed that she had been happy with her husband.

That's why Danny was such a surprise. Maddie did not know who Danny's biological father was, but she did not care. Not after they placed the sobbing infant into her arms, and she realized that she was his mother now.

She immediately phoned Jack to tell him what had happened, and he told Jazz she was a big sister before the call ended. They told him the story about when he started to learn his colors. Not with her taking her life, of course; that was when Danny turned fourteen. This was only a few days before Danny revealed he was Phantom to them.

They were first shocked, but then they became supportive. Phantom now had two proud ghost hunters following him, shooting photos instead of guns.

It was embarrassing, but it was also nice of them.

And that was that. Danny is a Fenton, adopted, but a child of Maddie and Jack Fenton all the same.

He never gave his biological parents a thought. In fact, he all but forgot about them until Sam convinced him to take an ancestry test. He had allowed her to swipe his mouth, package his DNA, and send it off to see where his people came from, completely forgetting that he would not match with Jazz, who had done the same thing a month prior.

His results were shocking, to say the least.

Somehow, someway, Rebecca Silver had been in the system of DNA samples, and they had matched him to her alongside his biological father.

Bruce Wayne. Rebecca had an affair with Bruce Wayne, arguably one of the wealthiest men in the country, and they had sent him a message to let him know he matched with his son.

An eccentric billionaire has just been told that Danny was his. He knew that song and dance well, and it was never fun to dance to. Danny could only stare at the results with dread as Sam apologized profoundly.

"Maybe he won't see it." Tucker tried. "I mean, Wayne is probably so busy with rich people stuff he doesn't have time to even look at his emails. Especially ones that will come in spam since it's comersolized."

"Yeah, Maybe" Danny doesn't think he's that lucky.

A month later, the Fenton's home phone rings. His parents are working on a new invention on the dinning room table, Danny is stretched out in front of the TV watching a mindless cartoon and Jazz is crocheting in the love chair.

It's a typical Tuesday night where everyone is doing their own thing but close enough to each other that they can call it family time. Jazz is the closest to the house phone so she picks it up with a cheerful "Fenton house, this is Jasmine."

Her smile slowly slips away as all the blood drains from her face. Alarmed by her reaction, Danny sits up. "Jazz? What's wrong?"

His words have his parents' heads snapping up, zoning in on their daughter's rapidly growing destress. Yes, they get distracted often with their work, but the Fentons have always been loving parents.

They quickly spring into action.

"Jazzy-pants?" His dad says, walking up to her and taking the phone from her slack hand. He covers the speaking end of it, not paying attention to the call as his mom hugs his sister. "What's the matter?"

"It's... Bruce Wayne's lawyer," Jazz says faintly. "He's calling about Danny. He said that Mr. Wayne has been attempting to take Danny back and that they are going to take us to court soon."

The room goes dead quiet, and Danny snorts. "He can't do that without a letter or something. Come on Jazz, it's obviously a prank."

Someone at school likely found out and thought it would be funny to make "the biggest loser of Casper High" Danny Fenton, think a billionaire wanted him as a son. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past the A-listers.

He laughs to show how stupid this prank is, but neither of his parents joins him. Instead, his mother closes her eyes and whispers, "We received his court papers weeks ago. We've been trying to get a lawyer."

What.

She pushes Jazz into his dad's arms, where his sister is slowly panicking. His dad tries to soothe her as his mom opens the drawer under the TV, pulling out three orange envelopes. She looks remorseful as she hands them to Danny. "We didn't want you to worry. I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. Vlad said he would help, but he wasn't sure what he could do against such a powerful man"

And there, in overly complicated terms, is clear as day. Bruce Wayne wanted full custody of Danny Fenton and was willing to take the Fentons to court to get it done.

The man- who has never so much as met Danny, much less have a right to say what happens to him- was accusing his parents of child abuse and child neglect! He not only was trying to take Danny away but Jazz as well!

Where did this man get the audacity!?

"I don't want to go with him!" He shouts rage, making his eyes glow green. "I don't even know him!"

"I know, sweetie. I won't let him take you" His mom says, yanking him into a protective hug, and he realizes that her shirt is getting wet with his tears. Tears that fall just like the woman who raised him. "Everything will be alright."

It won't be, he knows, but he won't tell her that. He just lets his mother hold him, and when his sister and father crash into the hug a second later, he holds them just as tight.

He's not sure how they will win against Bruce Wayne, but Danny will fight his biological father every step of the way. He will not be his son.

______________________________________________________________

Bruce stares at the photo of Danny Fenton- his son. His boy, whom he wasn't aware was alive until a month ago- and the reports from concerned teachers and whatever information Barbra could pull from his classmate's social media.

Dramatically dropping grades.

Clear signs of sleepless nights.

Flinches whenever his parents pull out "ghost hunting" gear.

Strange bruises and cuts along his arms and legs.

His small stature is no longer growing properly like his peers.

It all pointed to one thing. The Fentons were abusing his son and Bruce would bet the sister was suffering from the same treatment if her own grade dropping, sleepless eyes, and desperate race to adulthood were any indication.

Bruce laces his hands, resting his chin on them as the Batcomputer slowly flips through various reports being quickly dismissed by incompetent social workers who all claim it was Ghost Hunter related and not a cause for concern.

Those same social workers all seemed to have gotten quite generous donations from one Vlad Masters, a well-known family friend of the Fentons.

He hates corruption that allows children to be hurt, more so when it;'s his own children.

"When do we go retrieve Brother?" Damian asks, green eyes narrowing in rage as the reports scroll slowly. Ever since he found out Danny is a blood sibling, all Damian has been talking about is getting his elder brother home. "I am displeased with how long it's been, Father."

"Soon," Bruce promises, aware the rest of his children gather around him. They don't speak, but he feels their protective rage at what Danny has gone through, and he knows they will use every last bit of their training to get Danny home. "Either through the courts or in person. Danny will be with us come summer."

"Good," grunts Jason. "I'll have a little chat with his adoptive scumbags when we get him."

"I'll help," Dick tacks on.

"I'll make it look like an accident," Tim says, voice leveled but eyes blazing as the reports get to the neglect section. He has personal issues about that.

Bruce has never been so proud. "Court date is set for three weeks. They can't weasel their way out of it this time."

Don't worry son, he thinks to Danny, I'm going to save you.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Rescue Mission Au #misunderstanding #TW: mention of suicide #Off screen but there #Danny is just ghost fighting #But Bruce thinks his son is being abused #Tw: Assumed child abuse #Danny will not be a wayne #The Waynes think he needs a hero not that he is a hero

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platypusisnotonfire · 1 month

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This is my son.

He won’t let me get a good picture of him at the moment but

he just saved my life

I fell asleep in the bath (with a horrible migraine and a pharmacy of migraine meds in my system)

And he clawed my head above water while I woke up.

Little boy

My man

I love you O’Malley

#abraham delacey Giuseppe Casey Thomas O’Malley #my son the alley cat #this cat just saved my life #and it’s not his first time #he has saved me from suicide twice.#and he is constantly on patrol to stop my self harm #he literally will come running idk how he knows #this time was 100% an accident and caused by migraine + medicine but he was THERE #HE IS THE BEST BOY #he deserves all the praise

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catkindness · 1 year

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a local man experiences consequences for the first time in his life

#digital art #digital drawing #illustration #fan art #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #xue yang #xiao xingchen #xuexiao #this is a reference to the painting 'ivan the terrible and his son ivan' it's Devastating I hate it #tw blood #tw death #tw suicide #artists on tumblr #my art

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detectivechen · 11 months

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I don't know. I don't think about the future. When things don't go as I thought, I get disappointed.

CRASH LANDING ON YOU (2019) Son Yejin as Yoon Seri – Ep. 05

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bobby-fields · 6 months

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my honest reaction to the video

#THIS IS A JOKE I AM JUST VERY ATTACHED TO CHAYANNE HE IS MY SON #qsmp #suicide joke #📂 / img

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allovesthings · 2 months

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#Maybe screaming at Dick that he 'won't excuse him for losing sight of the value of his life'#isn't the greatest thing to say to his passively suicidal son....just saying #dc comics #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain

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cryptidlark · 3 months

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Fitz when Beloved confesses his undying love for him: idk man seems kinda gay :/ have you tried sex with a woman

Fitz whenever he suspects Beloved of having sex with a woman: what the FUCK

#fitz suggesting beloved get a gf as if he doesn’t get suicidal urges whenever beloved pays attention to anyone else 🥰🥰#once again thinking about the letter from fool’s assassin #the unexpected son prophecy was driving him crazyyy #king CANNOT handle sharing #roteposting

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specialagentartemis · 11 months

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Sarah Sisko’s whole deal is so horrifying and messed up and DS9 just kinda. Glosses over it

#Imagine you are just a random Australian woman on Earth. Living your life minding your business #and then you get possessed by an alien force who have a Destiny they need to enact #And so controls you to go to New Orleans and hook up with a guy you’ve never met and you marry him and live with him for three years #And give birth to a son #And evidently that was what the alien wanted because once you have had a son the alien possession vacates your body #And you are in control of yourself again for the first time in three years #Married to a guy you didn’t seek out with a son you didn’t have a choice in #And the man is sweet and kind and in live with you! And thought you lived him! But you can’t bear it #So you leave him and leave the kid and hightail it back to Australia because what else can you do??#And eventually commit suicide because you can’t handle this. Your life was upended in an impossible horrifying way for three years #You disappeared from your life with no warning for three years and then showed up again to people who think you just left #It’s the Star Trek universe—‘I was mind controlled by an alien force’ is well known #But that’s not supposed to happen to you. You aren’t a starfleet adventurer you live on Earth. Why You?#I feel like. Sarah your life was so horrifying/tragic and it wasn’t even about you #And even DS9 just brings this up practically in passing and then never dwells on it ever #perpetual perpetual ladies night #Star Trek #Deep Space 9 #ST:DS9

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onehundredandeleventropicalfish · 1 year

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getting emotional about the last issue of sandman again (cw for major comic spoilers, discussion of suicidal thoughts)

because like. so we learn pretty early on what dream's deal with shakespeare was, allowing him better access to his creative potential in return for two plays, and we know this because we get midsummer night's dream, which was commissioned by dream for the actual titania as a parting gift before the faeries left earth forever

but we don't learn the second play until right at the end, after dream is dead, after the funeral, after sunday mourning and exiles, both of which make really beautiful endings to the story in their own right

the second play is the tempest. and there's a lot of the play that neil gaiman quotes in this issue, but i'll focus on the specific two that shakespeare reads aloud

the first is our obvious one - prospero's address at his daughter's wedding.

Be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits and are melted into air, into thin air. And like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve, and like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

it's a beautiful passage, and exactly what to put at the end of this story - prospero is reminding everyone that stories are just stories, they aren't real and can't hurt anyone, but also they are the one thing that lives forever. humans are shaped and formed by our dreams, by our stories, we come from them, and in the end, we return to them.

now, prospero is the character we focus on in this issue. because there's a three-way parallel here between dream and prospero and shakespeare himself.

dream and shakespeare have both lost their sons, were both irreparably changed by that. both regret decisions they've made in their lives, and wish to leave the path they've found for themselves, but don't feel they can - their responsibilities are too great, they have no choice but to be what they were born to be. both wonder what might have happened in a world where things were different, but they know that could never have been

and prospero is the balm to that. prospero has made mistakes in his life, he's in several ways the antagonist of this story, but at the end, he gets to put it all aside. his daughter lives, and is happy. he gives up his magic - the source of his power, but also his suffering - and abandons his role, leaves the island he'd been ruling for decades. and this is his happy ending.

when shakespeare asks dream why this play, why he wanted that ending, instead of some great tragedy or drama, something more fit for a king, dream responds "because i will never leave my island."

and we see throughout the issue that that was personal to shakespeare too, it was a wish fullfilment for both of them.

but then we get to the epilogue, the second quote i'm focusing on. because shakespeare doesn't know how to end the play, until he has that conversation with dream.

this is the tempest's epilogue, in full:

Now my charms are all o'erthrown/And what strength I have’s mine own/Which is most faint. Now, ’tis true/I must be here confined by you/Or sent to Naples. Let me not/Since I have my dukedom got/And pardoned the deceiver, dwell/In this bare island by your spell/But release me from my bands/With the help of your good hands.

Gentle breath of yours my sails/Must fill, or else my project fails/Which was to please. Now I want/Spirits to enforce, art to enchant/And my ending is despair/Unless I be relieved by prayer/Which pierces so that it assaults/Mercy itself and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardoned be/Let your indulgence set me free.

like most shakespeare epilogues, it's a direct address to the audience, talking about the play. prospero is asking forgiveness from the audience for all he did wrong, but then reminding them that he's only human, don't we all want to be forgiven? and after all, all of this was just a story. he only wanted to create something for you. so applaud the ending, tell him it was worth it, and only with your permission can he finish the story, and finally leave.

and that's the thing, about dream's particular brand of suicidal thoughts. being dream of the endless has been weighing on him for centuries, if not millenia, he longs for an escape, but he knows he can't. when they see it's breaking him his siblings try and convince him to leave, like destruction did, but it's not in him to abandon the dreaming like that.

and that amount of responsibility, of staying alive because you owe it to other people - it's a relief, then, when a battle comes along that's too great for you to face, but there's also a lot of guilt in it. because he gave up. and he knows he did. letting the kindly ones win was the most selfish decision he's ever made

and you might say, well, he's dead, he doesn't have to face it, but that's not wholly true. because all three of the last issues deal with some version of dream after death.

there's the dream of him hob has in sunday mourning, which isn't the true dream, he's dead, except of course it is dream, because he was only ever made of dreams anyway, so does it really matter whether it's real or not?

in exiles the protagonist talks to both morpheus and daniel in the desert, and for dream this was two very different time periods, but to the man crossing the desert, they happened simultaneously, so if time can be warped like that in dreams, who's to say that the ripples of morpheus won't continue long into the future?

and then we have the tempest. dream has appeared after death as a dream, as a mirage, and finally, in perhaps his truest form, as a story.

when dream said he will never leave his island, shakespeare reminds him that all men can change. and this is the fatal flaw of dream - he doesn't see himself as a man, as a person, as anything but the entity which must fulfill his function. he tells shakespeare that men have stories, men change - he does not

and when we end this entire 75 issue run with the epilogue from the tempest, dream is prospero. even after death he's still reckoning with the guilt of making that decision. even now, he won't allow himself that freedom.

and that's the reminder, that all of this was just a story - dream's story. the reader is a character in sandman, all of this was created for us. did he manage to create something beautiful enough, despite the pain? can he be forgiven for the decisions he made along the way? if eventually he gave up, does that make all the time he fought so hard for meaningless?

and he can't be free of the story until we answer that all important question - was it worth it?

to which the answer can only be of course it was.

#you did good kiddo. take your rest. it's okay #interestingly enough the tempest isn't the only play that refers to the afterlife as a dream #hamlet does too (which you know is the piece inspired by shakespeare's dead son)#but that's just me and my shakespeare nerd #i've won literal monetary awards for my writing on shakespeare but here i am rereading sandman and crying #so you all get to cry too #neil gaiman you madman give me your writing talents #the sandman #sandman comic spoilers #dream of the endless #....it feels weird to tag shakespeare in this #wake #mine #meta #suicide tw

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marzipanandminutiae · 5 months

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LOTS of emotions about If I Die Young Part 2 for someone who's not even that into The Band Perry

(never had suicidal ideation- at least, very seldom -but as someone who was definitely more inclined to see only Romance in books about young ghosts, etc. when the first song came out and who is now 30 with a lot more life experience...yeah. Yeah.)

("God it's so dramatic. Beautiful and tragic. Throwing my emotions in a poem about a casket. But I've had time to bloom-")

(I'm fine just give me a second)

#music #suicide mention #so many stories I tell for work ended too soon. those people would rather have gotten old for certain #stayed with their loved ones. watched their children grow.#was looking at a painting yesterday of a woman who died at 37 leaving behind a husband of only 9 years and a 4-year-old son #sure she died 'young and beautiful' but I bet she'd have given quite a lot to keep living

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dramadramallama · 4 months

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deadass about to fight people defending the core message of death's game like there's nothing to criticize about suicide being straight-up presented as this Great Unforgivable Sin™. personally, i think it could have been such a powerful journey if the preachy tone was completely removed, if the personification of death was utterly neutral, and the main character, yi-jae, wasn't shamed and guilted into Understanding, after going through other people's lives.

i loved the show (!), but the punitive aspect coupled with the literal guilt-tripping and torture simply does not align with the feel-good moral i've seen pleople try to apply to it. the problem is it loses almost all meaning if the character goes through that development under the threat of rotting in hell forever. he's basically reduced to being a rat in a maze, fighting tooth and nail to survive vague, impossible rules, and being absolutely disdained and berated for it.

people do not commit suicide because they don't love their family/loved ones enough. i feel as much empathy for the ones left behind as i do for the ones who choose to leave.

how can we reasonably expect him to experience "illumination" when he's put into increasingly difficult situations where death is basically unavoidable?

i am glad yi-jae came to regret and to feel remorse, i am glad he was amazingly able to see past all the pain and torture he was put through, i am glad he was given a second shot at life (?)... but at what cost? the man basically ends up living his twelfth life alone, and empty, and broken. what a way to show him life is worth living. he did not deserve what lead to his suicide, and he certainly did not deserve what followed.

he tried. he was full of love. he did good. he was good.

#death's game #trigger warning suicide #kdrama #i will defend yi-jae like he's my own son lmao #he was NOT selfish and even if he was #it certainly was not enough to warrant all this #he was just some guy #anyway it may not seem like it but i did like the show lol i'm still gonna point out what was wrong with it though

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koschei-the-ginger · 9 days

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the other show david duchovny was filming simultaneously with the x files was always like "sad, broken man (35) will pay to read about your experiences with love and betrayal". The flashback sequence begins, and it's just straight-up porn about a woman screwing her tennis teacher or smth. Sometimes, it cuts off midway back to David, sitting on a bench all alone, looking like a sad wet dog, as he reads a letter. Once the porn sequence ends, he mutters to himself, "she had fun. But alas, I am destined to die alone." and he stares into the distance. It went on for 5 seasons.

I'm starting to think maybe flying to LA between the x files takes only to sit on a bench alone for hours could be the reason why his Mulder constantly seemed so touch starved he'd die if he couldn't invade someone's personal space for 5 minutes.

#i watched only only the first and last ep naively thinking there'd be at least a shadow of a plot... sigh #there was also an ep called 'jakes story' which i thought would give us more details on his backstory or some shit.. and then 💀#hes doing all that -to learn about women- after his gf unexpectedly committed suicide.. what do you think he learns #he's a freak we been knew but still holy shit #thanks father son and the holy spirit #for the x files success #the x files #txf #it was really that bad. though much on par with everything pre-txf. i cant do miracles i suffered a lot #david duchovny #welll #siiiiiiiigh #i swear now i will shut up about him now #this all thing was exhausting

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jankwritten · 3 months

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Jasico Bingo Challenge: love letter

A sheet of paper, folded into thirds, dotted in places with what must be water and grass stains. The handwriting is legible in some places, and shaky in others. In the margins are small doodles of birds, clouds, trees, and other miscellaneous, abstract shapes, as if the writer’s mind kept wandering.

TO: Nico di Angelo

FROM: Jason Grace

Hey, Nico. If you’re reading this, something probably happened to me. Maybe I hit my head again and lost my memories, or something, and you went through my stuff to try and find things to remind me of who I was. Maybe this fell out while we were hanging out, one day, and you saw it was addressed to you and you picked it up. Maybe I died—

However you found this, I guess, surprise! :)

First thing’s first: I’m sorry for leaving. I know I begged you to stay, and then turned around and left, and I really hope you understand - I didn’t leave because of you. I needed to find Leo, and leaving with Piper was the easiest way to do that. I had to try and get him back.

I wanted you to come with, but you were still healing and things were going really well with you and Will. I hope things still are, in fact. Wherever I am, I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come, and how much I’m sure you continued to grow even after I left.

I really love you, man. I never got to tell you that, but you’re one of my best, closest friends. You mean so much to me. You showed me a side of the world that I never would’ve seen otherwise, and gave me a space to be myself, and I will never, ever know how I deserved that. How I deserve you.

Is that out of left field? Haha it definitely is. Sorry.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nico. I didn’t want to leave. I’m so sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry I had to go and I’m sorry it had to be me, but it couldn’t be her, Nico, it can’t be her, it can’t be. It has to be me.

It has to be.

Here, some of the words are smeared from the water marks. Lines cross through some words that have then been re-written, as if in after-thought the author realized they were too important to delete.

If you really are reading this, after the worst case scenario, I understand if you’re angry. I understand if you never want to think about me again, after what I’ve done. I’ll understand if you storm to your father’s palace and demand I be placed in the worst of the worst punishments for being so stupid.

Gods. Gods, Nico, I’m never going to get to tell you how I really feel. About all of this, about everything I’m going through, I’m never going to be able to tell you and that hurts. It hurts more than knowing I’m going to die, it hurts more than getting stabbed and poisoned. I’m going to die loving you and you won’t even know until it’s too late.

Maybe this is a stupid bad idea. Maybe I should let it die with me. Is it cruel, to tell you how I feel if I’m gone? Does this make me an awful person?

Shit. I think I’m an awful person, Nico. I’m awful and I’m selfish and I can never choose things for myself, it always has to be for the greater good, so this is it. This is as selfish as I can be. This is all I can be for you.

I want to see you on the other side. I want you to punch me for getting myself killed and hate me for being a hero and I want you to know that I didn’t want this but it needed to be me. It has to be me.

I’m still wrapping my head around it, but it has to be me, okay? So if I’m really gone when you’re reading this, okay, you have to let me stay gone. Please. If you get hurt, if you die, and it’s my fault, I could never—

Here, the letter abruptly stops. Then, it continues:

That’s all I wanted to say, anyway. That I love you. I love you in any way I can, and even if I’ve done it silently, and stupidly, from a distance, just know that it was there, the whole time. It’s still there, wherever I am. Dead, or lost, or whatever. I love you, Nico. I’m sorry.

-- Jason Grace :)

#jasicobingochallenge2024 #love letter #tw major character death ment #tw suicidal ideation #i haven't read TOA so I don't really know what Went Down with this shit but I think Jason did journal-type letters to people #he wrote down whatever it was he wished he could say to them before he died #I think there's one to Piper about how much he loves her and wishes things could've been different for them #I think there's one to Leo where Jason pours his guts out about how much he hates him and needs him and wishes he hadn't died #(the irony of that is lost on him)#he writes one to Reyna about how he wishes they had more time to be friends again #He writes one to Hazel begging her to keep an eye on Nico. pleasing for her forgiveness because he knows she'll be so angry #one to Percy and Annabeth in a similar vein.#i thik Jason just had a lot of feelings that he never let himself feel until he decided to die for everyone #and in that moment his dams broke and he realized that he was never going to have the chance to be himself #not really #he was destined for this. he was destined to be the son of jupiter champion of hera sacrifice of olympus.#who knew the boy raised by wolves was really a lamb for the slaughter #ANYWAY. :)#pjo #jason grace #hoo #nico di angelo #jasico

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digitaldoeslmk · 6 months

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recollections of red and blue, or simple truths go oft-forgotten

it's been some time since MK's fateful encounter which changed everything, but Pigsy still won't forgive Wukong for what happened. Red Son is rather tired of this endless distrust and blame, and decides to remind the pigman of the kind of creature Wukong is. and maybe as important, the kind of creature that he used to be.

drabble where Hai'er sits down with Tang and Pigsy for a talk. beware the tags before proceeding. word count: 5.5k - AO3 mirror

"Alright, here we are. What did you want to talk about?"

The pig demon walked over to the other side of the bar with the familiarity of decades doing this. The few times Hai'er had been in the noodle shop, he could sense the love and dedication poured into every scratched bowl, worn balcony and faded tile. This place was the cook's whole life and soul, and he couldn't help but fix his jiasha a bit in respect before sitting down on a stool. It creaked a bit as it spun, and the pig man placed a cup of green tea in front of him. Probably from one of the thermos at one corner of the bar, no doubt, but Hong Hai'er sipped on it.

He had asked for a moment to speak with the old demon, given the past few interactions he saw between him and Wukong. While it was very amusing to see the pig try to get a rise out of a bodhisattva of all beings, it was also very distressing for everyone else involved, and this couldn't continue.

"You're a very stubborn pig." He said, dry and direct as usual. The human from the other corner of the bar choked a cackle into his fist, and Hai'er raised an eyebrow at him.

"Thanks, I work hard on it." Pigsy retorted just as dryly, but Hai'er had other immediate concerns.

"Are you sure he must stay?" Hai'er asked, nodding his head at the human.

"Oh good luck getting him to leave that spot, I've been trying for the past two decades and so far no luck." Pigsy replied, which earned a wide, stupidly cheeky grin from Mr. Tang.

"I see. You've out-stubborned him, that's an achievement." Hai'er said, directed at the human now, who preened at the not-at-all-a-praise.

"I prefer to think of it as perseverance, actually." He said, his grin gleaming in an insufferable way, and Hai'er rolled his eyes.

"I bet you do." He deadpanned. "But no, that one is just stubborn. Do you really insist on refusing to believe my uncle?" He asked, turning to the pig who was neating up the kitchen idly.

"Look kid, -"

"I'm older than you." Hai'er corrected, and the pig snorted, the interruption earning his anger and he rounded up on Hai'er, leaning on the counter.

"Whatever, kid! I don't believe him, and I never will. He can butter up the rest of these chumps, especially this one!"

"Hey!!" Tang whined, mouth half full of a half-empty bowl of noodles.

"But he can't fool me." Pigsy continued, "I know how important Sun Wukong is to the kid, but someone has to make sure MK doesn't fall on his face again cus he's too damn nice for his own good or safety, and if that someone has to be me, then so be it!"

The demon finished in a snarl that was all tusks and fatherly care. Hai'er didn't react, not at first, but he sipped on his tea again as he considered how to begin. Pigsy gathered himself in the meantime, swiping a hand forcefully on his apron with a harumph.

"Mr. Tang?" Hai'er asks, and the scholar blinks. He didn't seem to expect to be included on the conversation again, but he hums in acknowledgment. "MK says you know the Journey to the West from head to toe, yes?"

The actual praise, even if paraphrased from the delivery boy, has the scholar preen again, pushing at his glasses.

"Oh, I do indeed! In fact, I'm in the process of my own independent translation, with quite a few new footnotes that--"

"Then you know the story of how I got these scars, right?"

Hai'er's interruption grinds Mr. Tang's whole rant to a halt, eyes wide as saucers as he seems to catch up to where Hai'er is going. His eyes flick towards said scars dotting his arm and neck, and those are just the ones in plain view.

"I... Yes, I suppose I do." He agrees, shrinking into his scarf like he would like to not have out-persisted Pigsy about his eternal bar spot after all.

"Of course you do. Tell it." Hai'er says, in that quiet yet stern tone that leaves the order implied but very much not up for discussion. Tang sinks even more into himself, and the rakshasa can feel Pigsy glare at him. Mr. Tang clears his throat, uncomfortable.

"Umm... You uh, Wukong and Guanyin both tricked you into... sitting on a fake lotus throne, but it was... made of swords." He says, meek as a turtle holed up in its shell. Hai'er frowns into his teacup; that wouldn't do.

"Oh come on, tell it right. I've seen it, you're a storyteller, born and true. You thrive in it, live for it." Hai'er says, pinning the man down with his brightening eyes, black coals ready to spark alive with indigo fire at any moment. "So tell the story as you should."

The moment of silence is heavy and tense, only the sound of the electric static of the lightbulbs about them to break it. Tang swallows and accepts his fate in the center stage, bracing himself before he begins.

---

"There you are, you wretched primate!! Come to face your demise at last?!" The brazen demon calls from his throne of basalt. His grin is fangs and rebellion, blazing eyes like a volcano's heart. His armor gleams under the glow of his bonfire hair, licking tall and proud into the air. Hong Hai'er calls to the figure in the sky blocking the late morning sun, a sad sight on his pearly cloud.

"Wouldn't count on it, nephew." Sun Wukong replies from on high, barely managing the cocky grin under the angry burns and scorch marks he still bears from last they met in battle. Hong Hai'er roars in rage, flames whipping out of his mouth.

"I've told you already, you're no uncle of mine! I, Red Son, would never call family someone who bows down to his foes like a whimpering fawn!" He bellows, the pines and firs bending at the heatwaves of his rage. Wukong doesn't deign him with a reply, and Hong Hai'er summons his flaming spear to his side.

"Allow me to put you out of your misery!!" He calls and shoots himself into the air, aiming his spear right at the monkey's chest. The sage parried it with his staff, and they sink into glorious battle once again.

The hellion demon is no match for the monkey, but he makes up for his lacking martial skills with his hunger for victory. A tiger smelling the trail of blood of a wounded prey, and stalking forward to a meal in the waiting.

The sage dodges an attack and jumps out of range. Again and again, always out of range!

"Fiendish freak, what are you doing!" Hong Hai'er screeches, frustrated.

"Well can't say I look forward to you using your fire on me again." Wukong replies, and Hong Hai'er snarls.

"You keep up with this and I just might out of spite! You come here to challenge me again, and you can't even do it right, what kind of man are you!"

Wukong cackles, choking on a sore throat in the process.

"More than you, that's for sure, nephew."

His flaming spear tears into the morning sky like a butcher's knife, "What did I tell you, you disgusting simian?!" The monkey dodges the strike easily and sails his cloud into the southern horizon. "You...! Hey, come back and die with some honor!"

Hong Hai'er chases after the fleeing monkey in a scorching blaze, careless of just how far or how fast they are going. It doesn't matter, nothing matters, except getting rid of this pesky beast. To end Wukong is to end this pathetic journey of his and to earn himself his prize. A plentiful feast and immortality!

A halo of auspicious light appears on the horizon, but the fire demon doesn't slow down, hot on the tail of the wretched fiend. A little more, a little closer... Wait, what?!

Wukong is gone, vanished into thin air and hallowed light. No. No! His victory, his prize!! The fire roaring in his belly eats at his sense, consuming his mind as well as his innards as he screams into the empty air.

"FIGHT ME, COWARD!!"

His wrath melts into the cold air and casts circles of waves in the water below him. Wait, water? This is... not a lake, but an ocean. Water as far as the eye can see. Red Son blinks, flames and sparks slithering from the corner of his eyes. How far did he fly?

A sound not unlike a wooden bell rings, and he turns to see the light in the distance dim and coalesce into a shape. A figure in draping silks, veil around black hair, and sacred jewelry that seemed to glow of its own volition. He knew this person, he noticed, and his grin turned almost feral.

"Ah, Guanshiyin. What luck!" He greets brazenly, dripping with ego and bloodthirst. "Tell me where that sad excuse for a sage has scurried off to immediately, and I might just spare you!" He orders, pointing his spear at the bodhisattva, who remains still and unbothered upon the floating lotus.

"Hey! I'm fucking talking to you!!" He roars, all-consuming flames roaring from his hair and eyes and fangs. "I said, where's Wukong?! Answer me!" Again, nothing. The nerve to ignore him, how dare!! With a bellow, he slashes at the enlightened figure. The streak of vicious fire licks at the water's surface and missing completely its target, since the lotus is now empty, as if there was never anyone upon it to begin with.

"Where did you-- Would you vermin cease vanishing and FACE ME!!" Hong Hai'er shrieks, the Samadhi fire eating at his bones and simmering at his skin. His ragged breathing is like blowing into a furnace, clouds of smoke and inflamed qi venting from his gaping mouth.

"Heh. You flee from me so swiftly, could it be the great Avalokiteśvara can't face my fire?" He asks the empty air, voice twisted and crackling from the heat within. "Hehe, hehahaha, AHAHAHA!! Very well then!!" He gloats, landing on the golden lotus. His feet fizzle against the cool seed pod, and he stabs his spear into it with a victorious growl.

"If you won't face me, then I, Red Son, Bull King of the Flaming Mountains, will take over your fancy old lotus throne! HAHAHAHA!!" He says, sitting down on the lotus and adjusting himself to lounge cockily on the feathery soft petals. He might have missed the monkey and the thousand-armed one, but this was satisfaction enough. Or so he thought, not knowing that both Wukong and Guanyin stood right by him, invisible to his un-enlightened eyes. Wukong winces in quiet rage at his disrespectful boasting, but Guanyin simply plucks the sacred branch of willow.

"Foolish rakshasa. Bear now the consequences of your crimes." Red Son startles at the sudden voice, looking about him for the source, but before he can even sit up, the willow beyond his sight waves in the air and the lotus throne vanishes. In its stead, rest the thirty-six celestial swords of Devaraja Li. Sharper than any wind, sharper than sunlight in summer, they all pierced right through his resting body in the span of half a heartbeat.

---

As Tang finished the story, the silence returned. Both men regarded the fire demon carefully, who didn't miss how their eyes flicked to the scars all over him pensively. Hai'er sipped on his tea one last time, the cup now empty.

"That's right. It hurt like nothing I've ever felt before or since. Even so, I tried to remove them, but the bodhisattva simply turned them into hooks so that I couldn't. All I could do was beg for it to stop." He said, knowing that those two needed some sort of reaction. He had none to offer truth be told, it had all been so long ago after all, and whatever he had to say was not for their ears.

Tang fussed with his sleeves, clearly unsure of himself and what to say, while Pigsy simply stood at the kitchen, folding and unfolding a wiping cloth.

"I... I'm so sorry." Mr. Tang said finally, and Hai'er chuckled.

"What for?" He asked, amused at the response he got. "I deserved it."

"No you didn't! Nobody deserves that." Tang said, and oh the sweet guy, he believed it too. Hai'er could just smile with fondness at the sentiment, even if it was misguided. He always forgot that mortals tended to get the wrong message from those stories; no wonder so few have ascended or devoted themselves to cultivation of late. Too many new-fangled morals.

He needed to remind them who exactly he used to be.

"Tang Laoshi, have you ever smelled burning hair?" He asks, and he feels the glare Pigsy throw his way.

"I thought you wanted to talk to me, not Tang." The cook grumbled, but Hai'er ignored him much to the scholar's dismay.

"Please answer the question." He said, and Tang looked between the two of them for a moment before nodding.

"Well, yes. Once, it was this little mishap you see! Me and Pigsy were still young, he had only just started the shop and I was--"

"Turn that smell up by a hundred, and you'll know what the smell was like when Wukong got hit by my Samadhi Fire." He interrupts the man's story again, earning him a flurry of baffled blinks from the human. "A patchy half-charred monkey is actually a pretty funny sight."

Neither of the men shared in his humor, instead looking rather uncomfortable by the sudden somber turn of topic.

"Uh, Shancai Zhuren? Is.... what is this?" Tang asks, looking sincerely spooked and lost in what's happening. Pigsy looks just as lost, but his fear manifests in a tense back and a wide stance. Someone with some fighting experience, at least.

"I was a villain, Tang." Hai'er began, his calm and matter-of-fact tone only seeming to spook the human more. And he's hardly begun. "I burned goats and pigs to watch them suffer and the people lament their lost livestock. I extorted minor gods out of their offerings, because them losing their divinity was funny. I hunted travelers on the road for sport, to eat them at the full moon family dinners." He said, having crossed his arms to lean on the counter, a single finger tracing the edge of his chipped empty cup. He threw a glare at Tang who looked pale as a ghost. "I enjoyed it." He said, slow and deliberate, and Tang flinched. "I tortured my uncle, and I was ready to kill him. I wanted to more than anything. If Wukong hadn't gone to get Guanyin's help, I would have done it too. I was going to take his skin as a gift for my mother, as a coat. I'd have steamed the pig and seared the fish, and I'd have eaten the revered monk with my parents with sour sauce and a glass of rice wine. And I'd not have regretted a single thing."

Tang looked about ready to bolt right out of the service entrance just so he didn't have to get past Hai'er for the door, and Pigsy's tusks poked out of his twisted grimace.

"I did deserve it, every single blade of it." Hai'er said and saw the pig man lean from the corner of his eyes.

"What is this, free moping hours?! Oh, no pal, that ain't on the menu. You had better get to the point, or get out of my shop!" Pigsy burst out, jabbing a finger at the door. Hai'er l lifted a hand to placate the demon.

"I have a point. Well, two actually, but first of. You must have known all this. Doesn't take much to know that you have been overhearing Mr. Tang and MK tell these stories over and over."

"What's it to ya?" Pigsy snapped.

"And yet you trust me. I've only ever been a villain in those stories, and a dangerous one at that, yet I get more goodwill than my Uncle. You blame him for what happened to MK, but I couldn't stop it from happening either. What makes me special?"

"You're not making a great case for yourself, pal." Pigsy warned, but Hai'er waved off his threat.

"Humor me."

Pigsy regarded him for a long moment. With a sigh, the tension from his shoulders abated if only a bit.

"You helped MK. You called us, and you drove him here. That's, something. Certainly more than that immortal furball ever did."

"My uncle was in the Celestial Realm. Time dilation sucks." Hai'er retorted in a deadpan, and he could tell the pig demon was just barely holding back from throwing a spoon at his head.

"So what! He's enlightened or whatever, he should have known! He should have stopped it!" Pigsy said, poking at the counter so hard his large nails left dents on it. Huh, just like the floor of his home with his father's hooves. "If he really cared so much, he would have done something!!"

Red Son rolled his eyes at the response but sighed.

"Alright then. Humor me a bit longer so I get to my next point."

"Make it snappy, would ya?"

"As you wish." He said, and almost as a gesture of peace, the pig plucked the cup from his hand and filled it again.

"Even though that was the worst paint I've ever known, when the blades were gone all I could think about was vengeance." He picked up the story again, and sure enough, Mr. Tang piped in.

"Yes, you struck at Guanyin with your spear." The scholar said, and he nodded.

"I did. Because I knew that if I did, Uncle wouldn't hold back. I knew that if I struck at her, he'd defend her at all costs."

If the story from before had made the atmosphere tense, he was sure that the cook could cut it with one of his knives and use it for cartilage soup. The silence stretched and he could smell the moment the realization set in.

"You... You wanted..." Tang's voice wavered like a plucked string, and Hai'er took pity on the man and said it himself.

"I wanted him to kill me. I refused to be defeated and tamed by them, even if I had to die for it. Rebirth was preferable to captivity." He said, with the ease of someone who had grappled with that aspect of himself for centuries and made peace with it. Or someone reporting on the weather for the day, whichever worked. "And I would have too, but instead I got these."

The golden fillets at his wrist glinted under the fluorescent lights. Polished to a pristine mirror shine, unscratched and undented despite the wear and tear of centuries. Heavenly metal, not made to be tarnished my mortal means. His own gaze met him from the warped reflection on them, a familiar sight to him now.

"Master Guanyin saw this unrepentant, irredeemable creature writhing in rage, and she was going to drag it kicking and screaming into a second chance I did absolutely nothing to deserve." He said in a soft reverent tone, a hand cradling one of the circlets and feeling it warm under the touch.

The pigman snorted, unimpressed. "Is this where you tell me he's going to do that to me, eh?"

"I'm not done. The books don't tell this part of the story, so listen up.

"The first time I saw him again, I was gathering bamboo shoots for dinner. It oddly was the one thing Master let me do away from the groves, even though I had tried to poison her and the other disciples every time I got dinner duty. He showed up in my path, and he fell into a kowtow and begged for forgiveness for what happened. He said that I had left him no choice, but I could always call on him whenever I needed. That he would never shirk his duties to me as family." Hai'er told and huffed a little laugh. "I told him to get lost."

That at least got some amusement from the pig, though the scholar watched him with wide eyes, ever interested in a new tale for his collection.

"The second time we met, he did the same thing. Going on about how sorry he was, how he'd never surrender his duties to me or my family, that he... still cared for us in the only way he could. I was so angry still, so upset over my fate, and seeing him pleading for forgiveness made me so irate. So I kicked him."

Tang sputtered at that, "You did??"

"I did."

"How did he take that?"

"He didn't budge, but I broke my big toe on his forehead."

Tang suddenly spits out a mouthful of broth, caught between a cackle, a cough, and a lot of choking. Hai'er considers patting his back, but the man seems to gather himself more or less while the pig man complains up and down about the gross mess he made of his bar.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, I--"

"It's quite alright, it's very funny." Hai'er grants, waving away the man's apologies. It had hurt like a bitch back then, but it was his ego that was more hurt than his toe. He gives the scholar and chef some time to clean up a bit the kitchen and their pride before continuing.

"I cursed him out so much for it, too. I told him I hated him and I'd hate him forever, because he didn't even let me say goodbye to my parents, that I was trapped in those miserable groves and didn't know if I'd ever see them again." There's a knot in his throat at the memory of those uncertain years, but he pushed them aside. "I promised him that if he hurt my parents, I'd tear off my own hands and feet and head to get rid of those fillets, and I'd haunt him to the ends of the world.

"All he said in reply was that it was okay. I could hate him as much as I needed to or wanted to, it didn't matter, but he would always embrace me as his nephew no matter what. I told him to get out of my sight and never show his face in front of me again."

He could feel Mr. Tang's eyes on him, ever kind and pitying and infuriating, but Pigsy just huffed unamused but not unkind. To Hai'er, that was an improvement.

"And? What about the third time?" He asks, and Hai'er chuckles.

"Rushing the story, are we."

"Yeaaaah, he does that all the time, don't mind him." Tang comments, waving a hand dismissively much to the pig's disapproval.

"Well you're clearly on talking terms with the guy, so there must be a third time where that changed. So spill it."

Hai'er smirked at that, amused. The pig was the direct cut and dry type, which he could appreciate.

"The third time was much later on. I had grown a lot already by then, was much calmer and collected. I was past being resigned and just trying to live in this new normal I found myself in. I was making the best of it I suppose. Maybe even started to enjoy it.

"He showed up because he had crossed paths with my parents, which led to quite a conflict. In the end, Nezha had taken my father to the Jade Emperor for judgment. When I heard the news I was so sure my father was dead, executed long before I even heard of his arrest. I... I cracked.

"I was wailing on the ground and tearing at my hair, but then Wukong grew ten times his size and held me. He let me cry, and reassured me that it wasn't what I was thinking. My father was still alive, but serving penance. He had pleaded to Nezha and before the Jade Emperor himself to spare his life. I asked him why, and he looked at me with such open kindness and warmth. He even laughed a bit when he told me that as long as he breathed, he would not have me separate from my parents. He wouldn't break up our family like that. I didn't understand why he still cared for us so much, not when he was supposed to be detached from worldly ties and not when we had caused him so much trouble already. I tried to kill him, I wanted to, and yet he still cared enough to spare my parents. I didn't understand him at all, but it didn't matter, because I knew then that he meant every word of it.

"After I stopped crying, I asked him once he was finished with his Journey, if I should call him Great Sage or Enlightened One, and he said that just Uncle would suffice if I chose to. He's been Uncle Wukong to me ever since."

The ending to his story hung in the air, along with the lingering scent of stew spices and the buzzing of the electric lights. Mr. Tang looked ready to say something, probably of the awkward yet ever kind variety, but the chef beat him to it.

"And the point is?!"

"Pigsy!"

"The point, Zhu Dachu," Hai'er interrupted, "is that you can scream and blame and rage and whine and winge and kick and throw whatever you want at the walls. None of that will change the fact that my uncle cares for MK. And I mean truly, genuinely cares and worries for him, whether you believe him or not. Even if MK for some absurd reason decides to turn his back on him, shun and curse him from the twelfth heaven to the eight hell, Wukong will still, to the Universe's dying breath, care for him."

His gaze bore down on the pig, as if he could someone stare his words into the man's thick skull.

"That's my point. I hope you'll at least consider my words, though what you do with them is entirely up to you." He finished, leaning back in his seat and it creaked with the movement. For what it was worth, Pigsy gave nothing away, but something in the air had shifted somehow, whether for better or worse was too soon to tell. Regardless, he simply cradled his empty cup, now gone lukewarm from his hands.

Their staring contest, or at least heated sparring, was interrupted by Mr. Tang's not-so-subtle thorat clearing.

"That's very kind of you to share this with us, and we'll definitely take it heart, Shancai Zhuren." Mr. Tang said, ignoring Pigsy's grunt of offense on the "we" he tacked on his words.

"I think at this point, we can go with just Shancai, yes?" Hai'er offered with a small smile, not seeing the need for formalities with these two. Not when he's shared such a personal story of his with them.

"Oh! Yes, Shancai, thank you." Tang thanked, looking genuinely flattered and more than a bit close to squeeing for joy. Hai'er rolled his eyes in exasperated fondness.

"Now I gotta ask. Why is it Shancai for us, but MK gets to call you Hai'er?" Pigsy asked, seemingly done stewing on his story. Hai'er shrugged.

"That's just how it is." He deadpanned. No need to tell the man about how his son's glazed eyes lit with recognition once he was able to put a name to the stranger with him, how somehow ranting about the novel's chapter in a parched throat helped him ground himself to some semblance of normal after the horror he was put through.

Shancai wouldn't have done anything for Xiaotian then, but Hai'er did, and he didn't feel like breaking that connection. Not when somehow, Hai'er was someone Xiaotian trusted, and even liked having around. That's just how it is.

"Well, it is late and I think I've taken up enough of both your time. I shall leave you both to it." Hai'er said, sliding off his seat and giving them a bow. When Tang made to follow him to the door, he waved him away. "No need, I know where the exit is. And wouldn't want you relinquishing your hard-earned seat on my account."

Mr. Tang gave him a good-natured laugh at that, and he counted that was a good note to end on.

"Goodnight, sirs. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Pigsy gave him a short nod and Tang waved him goodbye, and with that, he was out of the shop and back into the cool city night air. Not as cool as the deserts, that's for sure, and for a moment he kind of wished it was. Brisk and bracing, enough to make his skin climb into goosebumps.

He did his part. Whether it would go anywhere or not, was out of his hands. But his ears could catch the two men's hushed tones past the walls, though he didn't bother trying to pick their exact words. He had a feeling he's left them with plenty to discuss in the coming days, and he was glad to be left excluded from the specifics.

Taking a deep breath, he returned to his car. He couldn't wait to be out in the desert, with the cool dry breeze to wash him clean from the day's affairs. No more broth spices, city smog, engine grease, bamboo sawdust, lotus incense smoke, or stardust metal and sticky copper and bile.

Just the sunbaked breeze of the sands and his thoughts.

At every stop sign, his gaze lingered down to his arms. Bandaged and glamoured, bound by celestial metal, scarred down to his bones. He was long past caring, vanity was a far away thing to him now after, but sometimes looking back at those memories stirred something in him.

Not regret, or bitterness or shame. He had faced those foes long ago and emerged victorious, with no small amount of effort. Not even nostalgia either, he couldn't miss those troubled days if he tried, not with the wisdom he now wielded.

Instead, he missed that feeling of realization. Held in his uncle's massive arms, almost drowning in his own tears, and realizing that he wasn't alone. He never was. He always had his uncle, even when he believed as sure as the sky was blue and the earth was solid, that he had no one.

He missed his family. How could he not? He missed the simple filial love of his childhood when he could reach out to his mother and be held in her arms, or jump on his father's lap and be brought to sit on his shoulders. It was easy as breathing then, for all of them, but those days were long past.

As clockwork, that little voice in his head muttered at him, peaceful and solemn as his Master's voice at lectures.

Let go.

He should listen. It was about time he did, it's been centuries and it's brought him nothing but suffering, and if he just let go then it would go away. He could finally fully commit to his Master's teachings, take the vows, and maybe join his uncle in enlightenment.

Instead, he pressed a few keys on his on-board phone, letting the call come through.

"Zhizi? What's up?"

He couldn't believe he was so damn weak.

"Shushu, do you want to have some tea at my place?" He asks, and there's an amused chittering laughter from the other side.

"It's been a while! I thought you'd never ask." Wukong replied, and Hai'er had to sigh.

"Me too." He agreed, his tone quieter than he had hoped it.

There was a quiet pause that he knew meant his uncle was staring at him across the line, and he took some comfort that he wasn't actually present.

"Meet you there, then. You better not skimp on me like last time, I know you hoard pu'er like a magpie." He teased, and cut the call before Hai'er could even reply.

Ah well, so much for detachment of worldly things. He had time. Yeah, he had time to do better and to finally let go of these illusions. Until then, he had his uncle and he could always call him for tea when the longing was like blades on his ribs. Until then, that was enough.

---

vocabulary

jiasha: mandarin, borrowed term from the sanskrit "kasaya". Piece of patchwork cloth worn by Buddhsit monks over one shoulder, once used to distinguish monastic schools of geographic origins.

wooden fish: a kind of bell used in Chen Buddhism to mark the pace of reciting sutras and prayers, often depicted in the shape of a fish.

Hong Hai'er: "Red Son/Boy".

Guanshiyin: full mandarin name of the bodhisattva Guanyin.

Avalokiteśvara: sanskrit name of Guanyin.

Devaraja Li: also known as Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King Li, chinese analog of Vaisravana. Father of Jinzha, Muzha and Nezha.

Tang Laoshi: "teacher Tang", respectful title for anyone who teaches.

Shancai Zhuren: "director Shancai", respectful title for someone in a high management position.

Zhu Dachu: "chef Zhu", mandarin dub name for Pigsy, also serving as a title.

Zhizi: nephew by the male line.

Shushu: uncle, father's younger brother.

#cw implied torture #cw mentioned cannibalism #cw suicidal ideation #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk au #by the book au #lmk red son #hong hai'er #lmk tang #lmk pigsy #pardal writes

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