#cub seeing any minecraft entity: can this thing possess me?

[bloop-im-a-frog-now]

"Spread The Sculk"

Cub never does something twice. Last time, his little sculk possession had been fun, putting sculk catalysts in everyone’s base, and forcing the others to cure him. The addicting feeling of letting his body being control will never cease to amaze him.

But it’s over now. 

“No more sculk,” he tells himself as he does his usual early season routine.

The last time he told that to himself, he let the hungry desire of diamonds take control of him during a civil war.

He isn’t the weak-minded fool he was before. He can control himself and the itch of letting an entire hivemind take his body as a host and doing their bidding for them. Sculk is very last season trend, and he has no desire to do anything with it again.

It means nothing every time he went mining, he always managed to find some sculk veins or an Ancient City. After all, Cub is able to go back where he came from and leave the place for good. He doesn’t need to block all the entrances to where the sculk is calling him. It isn’t calling him.

Cub sighs. The more he spends in denial, the more his work becomes affected by it. Doing the custom fireworks takes him more time than he planned it to be. All that for satisfying a stupid itch and a growing curiosity of the calls. 

He decides to go down in his mines, one day, silk touch pickaxe and some golden carrots in his inventory. He breaks the stone that blocked the entrance to the Deep Dark and inhales the air. A strong odour of fermented mushrooms takes over his mind, and something Cub thought he had buried deep inside him resurfaces at the smell.

He accidentally places his hand against the wall, and almost jerks his hand away at the feeling of the sculk veins, slimy and cloudy at the same time, like bread covered in jam. 

“Just exploring, okay Cub? You’re just exploring, and then you’ll go back.”

A clicking noise resonated in his skull, and that is when Cub knew he will not just explore.

“Just a taste,” he tries to convince himself. “Just a taste.”

His heart pounds in his head as he walks towards the Deep Dark, towards an Ancient City most likely. He is both frightened and delighted to be around sculk. Last time, it had taken them ages to cure him. The vex had simply stopped pestering his head, though by the way Scar often smirks at him, he has a strange feeling his friend made a deal with them. 

Sculk is both a different infatuation and a similar one. Cub knows the sensation of possession, of giving his free will to a malevolent entity only looking out for itself. Sculk seems to take control of him in a way he isn’t used to.

And that excites him. 

The air he inhales digs inside his lungs, wriggling as if it was a worm looking for a place to plant its eggs. Cub does not feel panic. As he arrives to an open area of the Deep Dark, close to an Ancient City, he realizes his lungs are filled to the brim with not air, but cotton balls clinging to the walls. 

His mind now has one objective, and he welcomes the sculk in his body with open arms. You can never satisfy an itch unless you scratch it until it bleeds.

The tremolo of the sculk sensor sends shivers down each vertebra of his spine. His boots crunch the sculk veins, becoming sparse the more he travels in the Deep Dark. He was in need of a sculk catalyst. 

Sculk sensors click around him. He knows being careless could cost his life. As the shiver spreads to the extremities of his members, as something worms itself in his heart, he grins widely. 

“Missed this,” Cub mumbles to himself, silk-touch pickaxe in his hand. 

He closes his eyes, and hums. The sculk washes around him, like waves against a beach. Slow and mounting, whispering sweet nothing to his ears as he walks on the sculk, a smile growing on his face. 

The sculk calls for him, left and right, and he can only obey to it. He steps on the sculk veins, the clicks of his boots against the stone bricks matches the tremolo of the sculk sensor. 

Cub opens his eyes as a Warden spawns. 

Right in front of him is a sculk catalyst, all alone in the myriad of sculks. 

“Let’s go,” he cheers quietly to himself as he breaks the catalyst with his pickaxe. 

The roar of the Warden echoes in his ears, but he simply closes his eyes once again, and lets the sculk call to him.

He does not need to speak. Something squeezes his heart as his feet walk on their own, triggering more sculk sensors and creating more Wardens. The creatures can not hear him. He grins to himself as he lets go of the control of his body. The sculk silences his breath, slithering to his nose and covering his mouth with its viscous body. 

Cub can no longer breath, but he is not worried. Its tendrils give him the bare minimum of oxygen he needs to survive, but he knows he is much more useful as a host than a body that has free will. His grin doesn’t come undone as the sculk pulls his legs forward, out of the Deep Dark, away from the Wardens searching for who had awakened them from their slumber. 

Sculk has limitations. It can not carry Cub above the mines, but he does not need them to. Determinedly, he walks to the surface, close to his base, and places the sculk catalyst right at his front door. 

“Time to spread it,” he chuckles to himself as he jumps on the catalyst. 

Immediately, sculk veins burst out of the catalyst and turns the grass to sculk. Cub softly laughs to himself as the sculk takes over his legs, over his body and forces him to jump over and over again on the sculk catalyst. 

It will spread to Etho’s base, which will spread to Tango’s base, which will spread to Cleo’s base. 

A tremolo greets his jumping, like a cat purring, but it isn’t a purr. It is a laugh, echoing in Cub’s head, becoming louder and louder the more he jumps. His legs become as heavy as lead. He is no longer the one jumping, but he doesn’t care. His thoughts are swallowed by the laughter, and he pants for air the more the weight of exhaustion crushes his body.

The tendrils in his heart squeeze the organ again, to make it skip a beat before wrapping around his lungs. Cub laughs hysterically.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he wheezes out. “Take me with you.”

His mind flashes memories of the vex possession. The laughter morphs into their cackling, and Cub’s heart wells.

It feels like home.

“Master,” he lets out.

His vision turns black and faintly, he hears something snap, like a footstep breaking a twig. 

With his thoughts no longer existing, he does not become aware the sculk broke both of his legs, letting him lie there in it. The addicting feeling of giving your freewill to a parasite has carved itself a warm hole into Cub’s brain. 

He never left the sculk. The sculk never left him.