#Possession tw

[compassionatereminders]

I despise "may your delulu come trululu" and all variations of it, because delusions usually aren't stuff like "I'm pretty" or "my crush likes me back." Delusions can be terrifying! Delusions can tell you that everyone wants to kill you, or that it's your fault the world is ending, or that you're being stalked or poisoned, or that you're dead, or that you're possessed and a whole lot of other shit that really shouldn't "become trululu"! And turning delusions into a haha teehee relatable daydream thing really isn't fair to psychotic people

[missazura]

spoogy time

[alicec-666]

Chapter 26 of my silly fic is out, so, if you wish to read it, you are welcomed to! ✨

Updates every month

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

I personally need more possession whump.

- whumper kidnapping whumpee to be a body for something else to possess

- Whumper being the possessor (is that a word? I decree it)

- Whumpee knowing - seeing - what their body is doing but unable to stop it.

- A possessor whumper that phases in and out, caretaker having to alternate between obeying whumper and comforting whumpee and patching them up

Possession whump! Possession whump! Gimme!

Tag me! Please tag me!!! I need!!!

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 4: "I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes" + "You in there?"

Read on Ao3

- Wind & Warriors

- Summary: Wind is forced to fight a malice-possessed Warriors

CW for possession, blood and injury, and mild body horror

---------------

Wind has seen Warriors in many different states. He has seen him pale and haggard from stress and exhaustion, ashen and white-faced from deep wounds. He has seen his eyes crinkle with laughter and his expression fall as he cries. He has seen him angry and joyful, heartbroken and terrified.

But never has he seen him like this.

The knight stands before him, wavering unsteadily on his feet. One half of his face is pale – too pale – and his eye shines abnormally bright from within it. But the other half is coated in a mass of sticky-looking purple-black goo. It clings to him like a mask, burrowing beneath his eye socket. The usual Hylian blue of his eye has turned to black and his pupil is a golden, cat-like slit rimmed in crimson.

The purple stuff travels down his body from there. It trails along the curve of his neck, spreading around his chest, creeping across his abdomen, traveling down to wind about his left leg. It gurgles as he takes a stumbling step forward.

“What’s the matter, sailor?” He grins, cracked lips pulling back to reveal crimson-tinged teeth. “Do you not like this new version of me?”

Wind takes a step back. His sword feels heavy in his hand.

“You-you’re not you, Warriors.”

Even saying it makes his throat feel tight. But he has to. He has to speak the truth.

When the Captain had gone missing last week, he had feared the worst. They all had. And when Wolfie had tracked his scent to Hyrule Castle, the mood had only dipped further.

(“No one goes in this place, anymore,” Wild had said, gazing at the castle with something akin to bitterness. “Not unless they don’t want to come out. There’s malice hidden in the walls. Zelda and I haven’t gotten around to cleaning it up yet.”)

But even that hadn’t completely dashed Wind’s hopes. Warriors was tough – is tough – and he had thought…well, he had thought he would find him when he had walked into the castle. Injured maybe, and in need of help, but not like this. Not unrecognizable, a monster in the form of his brother.

That is who he must face, however. And now with the rest of the heroes locked outside, he is left to face him alone.

“You’ve gotta fight it,” he pleads as Warriors comes steadily closer. “I know you can do it! You’ve just gotta try!”

“Try?” Warriors laughs and the sound seems to echo off of the stone walls. “There is nothing to try. This is what I am now, and I am better for it.”

He raises his sword. His breathing is haggard, every inhale sharp. Wind can’t say he’s afraid of him…not truly, not when he knows there is still a part of him, hidden deep within that is the Warriors he knows and loves. But when the goo begins traveling along the floor toward him, he can’t help the way his heart leaps into his throat.

“I was a servant of the goddess for so long,” Warriors continues, his voice hoarse and crackling. “I thought she gave me purpose, made me strong. But now I see that that was all a lie.”

Wind swallows. He can feel the tension in the air, building up for the knight’s next words.

“Why would I serve her, when I could have the ability to resurrect one infinitely more powerful?

“Ganondorf.”

He had known it was coming, but the name hits him like a massive wave anyway. Wind takes a step forward now, anger and fear coursing through him.

“He’s the bad guy and you know it!” He cries. “I know you do!”

Warriors only chuckles, the sound grating and sinister. “You’re foolish, just as I was. But you’ll see soon enough.” He grins, eyes glinting. “Or you’ll die.”

“Sailor!” Twilight calls from behind him. His words mingle with the curses and sounds of frustration of the other heroes. Their voices are muffled by the thick walls that stand between them and Wind, but he can hear them well enough. “What’s going on in there? Are you okay?”

Wind drags in a breath. His palms are sweaty, his hands trembling.

“Wars is…he-he’s covered in purple gooey stuff.”

“He’s what?!” It’s Wild now, panic sharp in his tone. “Sailor, is he acting weird?”

“Yeah.” His voice trembles and he clears his throat. “He…I-I think he’s possessed.”

“Possessed?” He can hear Legend groan. “That’s just our luck.”

“I’m going to find another way in,” Time says, voice brittle as ice. “You all remain here and aid the sailor any way you can.”

“There is no other—” Wild cuts off with an audible sigh. Wind guesses the old man went off before he could finish.

“He’s still fighting,” Wind says, even as he steps back again, trying vainly to keep some distance between him and the slowly advancing captain. “There’s gotta be a way we can help him.”

“There is,” Wild replies. “Listen, Wind, he’s trapped in malice. So, you’ve got to shoot the…”

A piercing scream drowns out his next words. Wind startles, grip on his sword tightening in preparation. But Warriors has stopped short and the malice with him. 

He is curled in on himself now, hunched figure looking so much weaker and more broken than seconds before. He presses a hand to his face and instantly the goop oozes over his fingertips. The scream trails off into a moan that quickly turns into a croaked word. 

“Wind?”

The sailor inhales sharply at the sound. Hope leaps inside his chest.

“It’s me, captain! I’m here! We-we’re all here! We’re gonna save you!”

Warriors falls to his knees. Wind can’t help but take a step towards him. But then the captain lifts his head and there is such anguish in his expression that it breaks his heart. He comes to a halt, throat dangerously tight.

“Wind….” The word is softer this time, more breathed than spoken. “I-I can’t…”

“You can!” Wind takes another step, ignoring the warning signals blaring in his brain. This is his brother and he’s not about to abandon him now. “I believe in you, Wars! You can fight this!”

The edges of Warriors’ mouth lift just slightly. A tear rolls down his cheek.

“Sailor,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry…please…run.”

There’s a beat of silence. And then, he begins to cackle.

He rises on shaky legs, stumbling upward like a redead rising to consume its prey. He moves forward, every step slow and jerky. The malice spreads out like a carpet before him.

Warriors grins, all sharp teeth and deathly pale skin. Blood dribbles from his mouth.

“You thought you’d won, didn’t you? You thought you wouldn’t have to fight me. So sorry to disappoint.”

He flicks a finger and suddenly the malice speeds up. It zips toward Wind in a blur of violet and black and bits of crimson. His heart jumps into his throat and he leaps sideways. Not a moment too soon either. The malice collides with the wall behind him with a sickening splat.

Wind cringes.

Is that how it had attacked Warriors? He wonders. But there isn’t time to imagine how such a horrifying fate had befallen his brother. Because Warriors whirls with startling speed and strikes again.

This time Wind is better prepared. He drops into a somersault. The malice rushes past his ear, so close he’s almost sure it’s going to hit the tip. But then he’s up again, just behind Warriors. Taking a deep breath he raises his sword and brings it down on the mass of malice that trails in the captain’s wake.

The hit does nothing.

The malice retracts, then with an unholy screech reaches for him. Wind’s eyes go wide.

He dodges, shoulder colliding painfully with the wall. Warriors turns to him with a leering smirk. Wind is unpleasantly reminded of the little imps in the Forbidden Fortress — the ones that poked at his heels and chased him up the walls. The thought makes him sick.

Warriors isn’t supposed to look like that.

“You’re fast,” the captain says. “And skilled. No wonder I loved you. At first I wasn’t sure how I could’ve cared about  some kid. But now I know. You were useful.”

Wind swallows, hard. The words hurt him more than he’d like to admit.

It’s not true. He doesn’t mean it, he tells himself, firmly. It’s the malice talking, not him.

Warriors leaps toward him again, this time bringing his sword slicing through the air. Wind is forced to hurl himself sideways to escape being pinned against the wall.

But he doesn’t have time to even catch his breath. Malice surges toward him across the ground, grasping his feet even as he turns. He struggles, fear running hot in his veins. Its grip is strong, however, and it holds him firmly in place.

Warriors stalks up to him. Wind forces himself to meet his crazed stare.

“You can’t run anymore,” he sneers. “Fight me or die. There are no other options.” He steps closer, hand outstretched inches from Wind’s face. Malice encases his fingertips. “Unless, of course, you would rather join me.”

He tilts his head and the way the light falls upon the still-human side of his face almost makes him look like himself again. Almost. 

“You could help me resurrect him. You could help me bring an end to this world.”

Tears run in rivulets down his cheeks. He tastes salt. But Wind curls his hand into fist. 

“I won’t help you. Not like that. I’m gonna set you free!”

Warriors straightens, sword clasped tightly in his fist. The eye of malice narrows, as though seeking prey. Its contrasting array of colors seem to gleam.

With it so close, Wind finds it hard to take his gaze off of it. His hands almost itch to lose an arrow into it like he has done in so many dungeons.

Legend’s voice echoes in his mind, colored with peals of laughter.

“Always shoot the eye.”

Then, comes Wild, tone panicked but determined, muffled by the thick walls, cut off by Warriors’ cries of agony.

“You’ve gotta shoot the…”

Wind inhales sharply.

That’s it! 

There is still hope, after all.

The malice continues to climb sluggishly up his body, weighing him down. The darkness that emanated off of it is suffocating. Lifting a shaking hand, Warriors aims the tip of his sword at his heart.

“Then you’ll die.”

Wind takes a deep breath. Swiping at his tears, he steels himself. Hand heavy, heart in his throat, he lifts his sword.

Please let this work, he prays.

And then, he plunges the weapon into Warriors’ face.

There is a nauseating squish, a skull-splitting scream, and Warriors crumples. The malice around Wind’s legs dissipates in a cloud of dark violet specks. The goop on and around Warriors follows suit seconds later.

Instantly, Wind is on his knees, sword sheathed, hands on Warriors’ shoulder. He turns the knight over, choking out his name as the windows and doorways of the Sanctum slide open and the sunlight streams in. It illuminates the captain’s — now completely human — face in blessed light.

Distantly, Wind registers that the others are racing into the room, calling his and Warriors’ names, punctuated with panicked questions. But he can’t bring himself to reply.

Warriors’ eyes are closed now, his freed body still.

…Too still. Wind watches his chest, waiting for it to rise.

“Come on.” Tears spring to his eyes anew and roll down his cheeks, tracing the paths of their predecessors. He doesn’t bother to wipe them away. “Come on, Warriors, wake up.”

Please don’t be dead.

Time is dropping down beside him now, already uncorking a bottle. A fairy flies free and heads straight for the fallen captain. Wind watches as she begins to whirl around him.

Her dance seems to last forever. But then, at last, she zips away and disappears.

Wind leans forward, holding his breath.

Abruptly, Warriors jolts upward coughing and gasping. He looks around the room, wildly, eyes wide and panicked. But they are blue as the Great Sea and full of the life he knows so well and Wind can feel nothing in that moment except joy and relief.

“Warriors!” He wraps his arms tightly around the captain, half to support him and half to cling to him. To remind himself he is still here, alive. That he is safe.

Warriors stiffens and pulls back, eyes roaming his body.

“Sailor,” he croaks in the voice that is so unmistakably his. “Are-are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

With a shaky smile, Wind drags him back into the hug. “I’m fine! Promise! Don’t worry about me.”

Warriors makes a sound like a half-sob. He shudders.

“I-I’m so, so sorry.”

The sailor shakes his head, viciously. “Don’t be! It wasn’t you.”

“But I should have…I could have fought…”

Time leans forward, setting a hand on both of their shoulders. Emboldened by his presence Wind sucks in a breath, nearly choking on tears.

“You did fight, captain! I saw you. You-you fought all you could!”

“There is nothing else you could’ve done,” Time adds, quietly. “The champion hasn’t known anyone to resist the pull of such evil, save for Flora. And it seems you continued to battle it for quite some time.”

Warriors doesn’t reply. He slumps, defeated, and Wind holds him tighter.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. I-I was really worried.” He raises his head to look Warriors in the face. “You…are okay now, right?”

There are tears running down Warriors’ pale cheeks, blood trickling from his mouth and various wounds Wind can see now that the malice is gone. But he cracks a broken smile.

“Yeah, I’m alright now, sailor. All thanks to you.”

[whump-my-dear-watson]

peter + eddie sharing symbiote trauma

WHUMPTOBER 2024 NO. 21 "SPIRIT POSSESSION"

[sixersigned]

notes on the mind electric v! affiliated w/ @deciphver </3

essentially an au where bill didn't 'fumble' ford, and essentially doubled down on the long con. he didn't out his plans immediately, and kept it under wraps. gaslit, girl kept, girl bossed.

ford is. unfortunately still very enamored by him, and that doesn't help things in the slightest. they're not formerly a thing but it feels like they are.

fiddleford tried to erase stanford's memory, knowing about bill's plans and regrettably knowing how much bill had ford wrapped around his finger, this was the only way to stop both of them. fidds and ford fought, and ford won, and erased FIDDS' memory in retaliation.

stanford smashed the memory gun not long after doing this, angry at himself. he was emotionally beaten up over losing fiddleford for months, even years--much to bill's annoyance. he won't forgive himself. bill moved the body and that night was a blur.

construction on the portal continues, but things keep happening that are detrimental to its progress. the society of the blind eye is knocking about, making getting resources more of a nightmare, and all around interfering. college grants are in the air having nothing to show for them, and bill is getting irate that somehow, fidds is still somehow getting in the way.

ford is still grieving, and it's in these times that his mind wanders to his brother. he knows full well his muse tells him not to waste time thinking about someone who he should've eaten in the womb, but ford has lost all support systems except bill and he's scrambling for the first semblance of another human being. but there's no one he can trust with his work except his muse.

bill takes note of this. decides to bring stan to gravity falls as a surprise for sixer's own good, but it's really just an underhanded plot to turn ford against his last semblance of a support system. stan knows something's up, but he can't reach his brother basically. something is doing something to him but he can't find the puzzle piece. portal fight breaks out, and ford pushes his own brother into the portal.

the guilt? immeasurable.

ford wishes he hadn't smashed the memory gun. he has intrusive thoughts about that thing, how he wishes he could forget what he's done. but he remembers to hold himself accountable, hold himself to the mark.

meanwhile bill tells ford white lies about how he's looking for his brother with no luck while ford continues to work on the portal. smth smth haven't plotted it in detail, but stan did something to set back the progress (and ford doesnt have fidds degree) and its postponed for another 30 years.

another 30 years with no social contact other than that of a twisted dream demon. the years change stanford into an anxious morbid mess, and though he doesn't really portray sadistic traits like his muse does, he doesn't bat an eye anymore when the other's facade slips.

no metal plate in his head! he's still free possession estate bc he didn't get portal'd in this verse. he couldn't step out of line if he wanted to. if he did.

very much aware of how much power his muse has though. and very wary of the fact that people who speak ill of stanford suffer the worst fate imaginable.

the pines twins come over to visit for the summer, close to the portal's completion. ford knows his muse will probably be upset with him, but it hits hard hearing mabel and dipper's parents arguing over the phone & getting flashbacks to a broken home. he excuses that the twins will be gone by the portal's completion anyway, and that he'll hide everything.

how much damage can two children do? he was a child once. he knows. but he insists he has a handle on it. however, bill isn't too pleased about it, and if ford doesn't handle it, then he will. ford is avoiding that at all costs because ugh god, these kids grow on him.

he has a support system?? he cares about someone other than bill?? these kids fill him with so much joy, and he wants to do all he can to make them happy and inspire them. overall a bit more anxious but in a better mood.

nwhs, stan comes back, and he calls out stanford's bs. a la. 'yo my brother's a cultist' 'whaaa no im not!!' distrust all around

though his relationship is rocky with stan, he cares so much abt those kids, it might be a problem, especially leading up to weirdmageddon.

he is hiding weirdmageddon. like actively. he didn't seal any kind of rift.

miiight have doubts leading up to the finale?? but who knows still plotting

smth smth they have to erase fords memory to stop bill. or this is one of those canon timelines where the pines lost. idk

that's all we got so far gdfkngd

[skullbonezz]

TW!!!! Body horror!!!!!!

I hate my stupid ocs… grrr!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ik everyone and their mom has made this complaint but tumblr nerfed the quality… again… sigh…

bonus (tw talk of possession)

[lotusthekat]

[ID: A colored, hatched sketch of monster Belos possessing Gus. Belos is smiling wickedly at the viewer, his head tilted to the side, as he stands behind Gus and traps the boy. His right hand gestures at Gus' head, while his left grabs the other's shoulder. Gus, however, is wearing kid Philip's mask, so his real expression is not seen. Still, Gus' left eye glows blue, and tears come out of it. As dark green goo takes over his body and his Cosmic Frontier costume, Gus is pointing a knife towards the viewer against his will. The background is nearly black. /End ID]

An illusionist that knows the truth? The perfect puppet.

DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION!

Don't tag as ship. (I know this doesn't need to be said here. But who fucking knows.)

P/roship DNI.

[oflostinfound]

@aonokumura replied to your post “"Grim- Eath? Gr...Greath... Remember when I told...”:

Rin kept his voice calm, as he could sense the distress from both of the two daemons. He drew his sword, flames appearing on himself and the blade. "I'm worried about Eath, so maybe you could try possessing Kurikara instead? It'll be temporary, and I trust you with it. That way I can take you to wherever you need to go. And Eath can take care of the other option."

That... makes both souls pause. Even accessing Grimbright's memories, this was the first time Eath was truly made aware that part of Rin's soul was in his sword...

Perhaps she should've realized sooner? It was... concerning, in a way, but now was not the time for questions.

This was as good a solution as any, Rin could take Grimbright back to his body, and Eath could run to check on Jewel. Though the only obstacle would be actually putting the soul back in him body once they got there- but Eath had the ability to summon portals. She could be fast, or almost in two places at once, with the right amount of focus.

Or maybe, if they were lucky, Grimbright's soul would simply hop back into his body if they got close enough.

|| 🔷🖤 ||: ❝ That... could work. But only if you're certain. ❞

The daemons seem to relax more, enough that Eath is able to sever the last few bonds between her being and Grimbright's soul. A small, flickering grey and black wisp settling in her hand. The scales(?) that had covered her face and limbs, and the bright yellow eyes fading into glowing white the moment they were separated.

|| 🔷 ||: ❝ Take care of him, Rin. He is very fragile now.

And... thank you. From both of us. He has a hard time saying it. ❞

[nuks]

paranormal investigator oc who gets possessed at some point oops

[filipinfodump]

I was able to get the story from the woman who works for us who I will call Ka-J. and I had some interesting things come up from similar aswang stories I had read before. Here's some of the highlights of the story while I try to work on the transcript maybe for the next few days:

Aswangs could possess people and would often do so for selfish and even petty reasons. The possessed person was possessed for such a petty and miniscule reason that I'm honestly so perplexed. She possessed the woman because she... smelled good???? Like girl WHAT???? Just ask for her perfume brand or her laundry detergent brand holy shit

They fear holy items like crosses and rosaries. The possessed person from the story was cutting up rosaries and that's what primarily gave the aswang away.

The aswang could make the person's voice change. The possessed person was speaking at a strange tone extremely unfamiliar to her children.

The aswang may speak different languages, maybe unintelligible to the average person. I asked if it was in Latin or whatever stereotypical thing, but Ka-J said she could not determine that.

When the aswang was asked "Where did you come from? Above or below?", the aswang answered that she was "From below." implying that aswang do come from hell at least from this one incident.

The aswang exorcism didn't fully work the first time around so they had to do it twice. After the first instance, she was apparently worse.

They dislike calamansi which is something I've seen in some sources. This was done as an emergency way to freak out the aswang.

Folk healers could exorcise the aswang out of the person. Sometimes they may need the assistance of multiple healers. Ka-J. had told me that there were up to 7 to 8 healers during the final exorcism.

Some other interesting bits from the story that was told to me after or are things that seem just a little interesting to not add in but didn't fit the rest of the list:

The folk healers used an item she called "saway" (Note that Ka-J. is Bisaya but considering this takes place locally here, they probably call it a different name in the Tagalog region). She describes it as a brown (stick?) thing with a thorn attached. She says that there's a bit of gold on the item and when it pricks the aswang, the wound doesn't heal. I don't know what this item is, but it's similar to some stories I read where they would use certain tree branches or the buntot pagi (stingray tail) to injure the aswang.

The aswang was apprently a 50-year-old aswang woman. Very specific thing to have come from the exorcism. Besides that, she also gave her name and her "earth address" but Ka-J has forgotten what these were but it's probably pretty local.

One of the folk healers have a YouTube channel where he uploads the cases he handles. I had the displeasure of finding one of the videos and it is genuinely disturbing. It was just a woman crying but there was something eerie about it. I may not investigate further and I'm not going to link it here not only because of its disturbing nature, but this would essentially probably doxx me and I don't want these poor people's faces floating around because of my post.

I will try to get to actually transcribing + translating the short interview from the recording in maybe a couple of days. I think I may need to take a short break though since I feel a little uneasy after hearing and watching all that.

[alicec-666]

"Elevator"

Something I've done for Chapter 17 of my fic right here because I have absolutely no clue how to get more people to read and share their opinion on it 🤭

P. S. Constructive criticism and/or the moments you liked or disliked the most in this work are always welcome ❤

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

A little possession snippet cause lunch break and brain coincided for once! 

TW: Afterman of possession, with possession still mentioned/occuring. 

Even before they were fully conscious, Whumpee felt the aches. The aches and stiffness enveloped their entire body, weighing them down, squeezing the breath from their lungs. 

But that’s not sustainable. Regardless of the pain, they needed air. 

The sharp breath only flared more pain in their ribs, down their spine and radiating through their throat. It all hurt. 

“Whumpee? Are you awake?” 

An accidental whine answered Caretaker’s question. Whumpee knew they should answer them, knew they should try to sit up, but it was too much. They just wanted to go back to sleep. They needed rest. Real rest, not the nothingness they drifted in and out of when It was sleeping. Or dormant. Or hiding - whatever It did when not piloting their body around. 

“Please, Whumpee you need to drink this.” 

Whumpee cracked their eye open, slowly glancing up to caretaker’s face from the cold concrete they were laying on. Too sore, hurt too much to move. 

But they never did get what they wanted. 

Biting their lip to keep in the pitiful whimpers, Whumpee slowly pressed up to a half sitting position. Caretaker was right there, guiding them up, supporting their sides and slowly guiding them to sit against the wall. Whumpee was dizzy for just a moment, and when they finally got their berings, a single look at Caretaker’s bruised face made their heart drop. 

“C-Caretaker? Did I do that?”

Caretaker swallowed. “It's not your fault. I was… insubordinate.” 

A shiver went up Whumpee’s spine, collecting in the base of their skull and jaw. It was listening. It wasn’t repentant. 

“I think It’s still here,” whumpee whispered, as if that would do any good. The presence was seared into their mind, peering into their memories and influencing their thoughts. It felt behind them, watching over their shoulder, even with their back propped up against the wall. 

Caretaker only nodded, lifting up the cup referenced earlier. “Here. We put this together. It should help get some of your strength back.” 

Whumpee nodded, carefully holding it with both hands and taking a sip. They barely tasted it. The thought to refuse was so brief it saddened them. But even if they did try It would just regain control and make them. 

They couldn’t force themself to make eye contact with Caretaker, but they could feel their companion’s eyes. Their gentle concern was so blatant it radiated from them. Whumpee felt as if they didn’t deserve it, couldn’t accept it. Caretaker rested their hand on Whumpee’s knee, thumb gently rubbing on some small patch of unbruised skin. 

The softness was killing them. 

Whumpee’s voice broke as they reached out, but Caretaker understood. They moved to sit with Whumpee against the wall, cradling their head to Caretaker’s shoulder and arm secured around them. There, safe and comforted, Whumpee broke completely into sobs. They wanted out, they wanted to go home. They wanted their body back - their life back. 

“I know,” Caretaker shushed softly, carding their fingers through Whumpee’s hair. “I know.”  

[hee-blee-art]

winners of the most terrible oc couple poll, father eli & keth (shown here in their possession form)

[image ID: a digital drawing and detail crop of eli, a young priest with light skin, short strawberry blonde hair, and a clerical collar, who is possessed by keth, a demon who gives eli sharp fangs, all white eyes streaming white smoke, soot all over, claws, and slashes in his cheeks. they are giving two big thumbs up and smiling and wearing a t-shirt over their collared clerical shirt that reads "worst guys of all time." the background is a muted pink and the detail crop focuses on their head & shoulders. end ID]

[obsessivelyloved]

Excuse me, good sir, I don't know if this is the ask box, but may I ask for a fic? If so I have an idea for a platonic yandere AU! The idea is Red Leader being a demon in possession of the original Tord's body and using the body to be closer to the rest of the original Eddsworld cast, and original Tom noticing something off about Tord. Everything else is yours to choose. (I'm sorry if something like this already exists here, if so, I most likely didn't see it!)

This is indeed my ask box! Something like this does not exist here, thanks for the ask! It was fun writing this out :D

_________________________________________________________

Since when did Tord smoke cigars? Those were crazy expensive, not to mention the guy went through packs of cigarettes quickly. Tord didn’t care much for savoring things like that. He was the type of guy to pull a smoke out for a minute and toss it. 

Now, Tord would stand in front of the kitchen sink, blowing smoke out through the window. For much longer than Tom had ever seen him have patience for. 

That wasn’t it. He stopped dying his hair. Stopped wearing his favorite black trench coat. 

He started hanging out of his weeb dungeon more. 

It was creeping Tom out. And wasn’t that fucked up of him? Here his friend was coming out of his shell, changing, and yet…. Tom didn’t like this. It didn’t feel natural. 

It didn’t feel like Tord. 

It felt as if a stranger was wearing his friend’s skin. Playing a game of pretend, trying its damndest to convince them it was their friend. 

“You alright, Tom?” 

Tom blinked, staring up from his bowl. “What?” he asked. His voice was sluggish.  

Tord smiled at him, cigar held at arm’s length so the smoke would waft through the window and not the house. 

“You’ve been glaring at your cereal for a while now, man. You alright?” 

Tom stared back down at his bowl. His cereal was mushy. 

“Yeah…. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Tord laughed, putting out his cigar in his ashtray. He moved to take Tom’s bowl and dumped it into the sink. 

“How about we go out for breakfast, just you and I? It’s been a while since it’s been us two.”

A wave of calm washed over Tom. What the fuck was wrong with him? This was Tord. This was his friend. Nothing was wrong.

Despite the sinking feeling in his stomach, Tom stood up, smiling. 

“That sounds nice, actually. What do you have in mind?” 

This was his f̶̨̤͚͑r̷̮͍͇̆̂͝i̴͕̲̫̇e̶̻̍͂̎n̴͕͑̅͂d̵͖̺͈̍̉͝.̴̻̄͠