#possession tw

[concoctionboy]

I used to occasionally reblog nice pictures of fungi, but ever since I was colonized by a fungal hive-mind who briefly took complete control over all my known bodies and is still in possession of I don't know how many copies of me, that's kind of lost its luster. I mean, I don't think I'm really prone to hold grudges, but it still feels a little weird now to reblog pictures of fungi after having been possessed by one and knowing that other copies of me are still serving as its host bodies.

So I'll start reblogging pictures of lichens instead. (Okay, yes, I know lichens are part fungus, but they're part other things too.)

What a thrill… It's the frilly-fruited jelly lichen, Leptogium burgessii :3

iNaturalist observation 260352556

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

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

[weirdmamagnet]

Fiddleford puts up with too much.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 7: Pick Someone to Die (Legend & Hyrule)

Read on Ao3

CW for possession, emotional manipulation, blood and injury

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“A shrine!”

Hyrule races forward. Crickets leap from the space where his feet land. Grass flattens, spreading in emerald spikes before crawling upward once more. 

Legend follows behind at a slower pace. Though the form that rises tall and sloping from the ground before them is intriguing, it doesn’t strike him quite as exciting as it does his companion.

He enjoys the puzzling sprawl of the deepest, darkest dungeons. The stairways and ladders leading to unknown depths, the doors that give way to rooms with rewards as plentiful as dangers — they spark an energy within him. A hunger to see and gain and learn. 

From what he has heard, these things are much smaller, less rewarding. He highly doubts orbs of spirit and strength await them at the end as they once did for their champion.

“Didn’t Wild mention these?” He asks as he steps up beside Hyrule. He narrows his eyes at the gaping opening. “Looks like he already explored this one. Then again, I think he said he explored them all.”

Hyrule grins. “Yeah, he did! He didn’t manage to get the hero’s garb until he did. Can you believe it?”

Legend shakes his head. Many things are strange about Wild’s Hyrule, many things bothersome. But he doubts this particular occurrence had disturbed the hero too much. He has always seemed proud to don his Champion’s Tunic. 

He should be.

“We should go inside.” Hyrule is practically vibrating with excitement now. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like in there. Our champion says there are puzzles and treasure!”

The veteran cocks his head. There is something odd about this structure of cold, unnatural stone. He isn’t altogether certain that he likes it. 

Even so…he cannot deny the way the shrine draws him in. That gaping maw beckons, whispers of adventure and new discoveries.

“Treasure, huh?” He walks forward, tosses a grin over his shoulder. “Alright, let’s go.”

Hyrule smiles back. His expression is brighter than the sun that gazes down on them from a sky of fluffy clouds and blue.

Together, the two heroes step into the gloom. It swallows them whole and promptly spews them out on the other side. 

Blinking the darkness from his eyes, Legend looks around. They stand side by side on a circular platform that mirrors the one outside. But while that surface was a deep brown, this one is a pearly off-white. A sheer drop off crowds its sides. A stairwell climbs where it narrows. 

Legend lifts his eyes to the small outcropping at the very top. The dim blue glow that surrounds them seems to drift from this point. 

Come…

He startles, bumps into Hyrule as the traveler does the same. The voice echoes in his head as though it is a thought of his own concoction.

Hero of Hyrule. Hero of Legend. Come. Approach my place of slumber.

The glow deepens, like the depths of the sea. Legend’s breath catches in his throat. 

Something breathes into the air around them. Something sharp and pungent and wrong. 

He shivers. The day had held the muggy warmth of summer. But here, now, a cloud of ice settles heavily upon his shoulders.

“Ledge…” 

All eagerness has fled Hyrule’s tone. The light in his eyes is no longer joyful. He gestures to the empty space behind them. A plunge into oblivion or worse.

“There’s no way out. Wild said there’s always a way out.”

A way out? 

Laughter echoes. It does not sound cruel, merely detached. Nevertheless, the hair on the back of Legend’s neck spikes aloft.

Two practiced hands unsheath two bitter blades. The gleam of silver, the glow of orange — they are striking in this space of ominous tranquility. 

There is only one way out. Come. I invite you to approach. When you stand before me, I will unveil it to you.

Legend looks at Hyrule and Hyrule looks at him. There is a pause, the space within a panicked heart can flood the ears and echo in the skull. Then, slowly, they start up the stairs. 

It is too slender for them to stand side by side. Legend leads the way. Weapon held before him, attention on the hero behind, he walks with intricate caution. 

Fear is already transforming to anger, exhaustion to manic energy. 

His body knows this waltz all too well. His mind knows it even better. 

You do not tremble in the face of evil. You do not fall. Though your knees beg to give way, though your thoughts screech that you turn and run, you walk towards it. 

You protect those dear to you.

Until the breath of death drags itself gasping from your lungs.

“What?” 

The word splits the air the very second his boot lands upon solid ground. A small structure of stone rises before him. Beneath its graceful slopes is what looks to be a mummified corpse. It slouches with the exhaustion of endless life. Long stringy hair of gray falls into an eyeless visage. 

Whether or not it can see him, Legend isn’t certain. Regardless, he levels a scowl at it. 

“What do you want?”

A price. A test. An assurance that the spirit of the hero is truly as courageous as it is said to be.

The heavy head lifts. Empty eye sockets fill with crimson flame. A jaw unhinges to allow the words to drop like leaden weights upon the space.

Heroes. Many times you have risked life and limb for those who rely on your aid. Many times you have provided aid to those lost and wounded and afraid. 

Now, I ask you to give that same gift to me.

“Gift?” Hyrule’s voice verges on trembling. But if Legend did not know him so well, he doubts he would detect it. Somehow, the traveler keeps it strong. “What do you mean? You want our help?”

Indeed. Life has never dwelt within me, yet it has left me all the same. I require it once more. 

“Sorry, creepy,” Legend growls, “but we aren’t in the business of life and death. We aren’t necromancers. There’s nothing we can do for you. So, let us out of here before we slice up that decrepit body of yours and leave your soul with nothing to go back to.”

The jaw widens. The laughter that emanates now is more akin to a cackle. 

Now, it sounds cruel. 

You are mistaken, Hero of Legend. You can certainly help me. 

All I need to breathe vitality into these sorry limbs is the spirit of another. It matters not which one of you give it. 

Though…perhaps, you would like to volunteer yours?

It feels as though a ball and chain has slammed into his chest. Legend cannot help the stumbling step he takes backward.

“No.” He hears Hyrule say through the rush of waves and a roaring heart beat. “No! Neither of us is giving you our soul. We’ll find another way out of here.”

Look around you, Hero of Hyrule. Do you see another way?

One of you must make the sacrifice. One of you…

Flames of violet and crimson rise from the corpse. They lick hungrily at the air before diving downward towards them.

Must become mine!

Legend does it without thinking. It is easy what with him being a step or two in front of Hyrule. Either way, his legs would have moved.

He lunges forward.

His blade meets something gelatinous, something that warps around it and continues unhindered. 

Like the dream of the Windfish, it engulfs him entirely. 

His weapon falls from his grip.

The sharp scent of blood and death floods his nostrils. Something sticky and thick is in his eyes, his mouth, his ears. His throat constricts. He gags. Desperate fingers raise up to claw at the stuff. But his efforts are fruitless. They glide right through.

He is weightless and leaden. He is drowning, he is alive. Electricity reverberates through him. There is no light to be seen. 

Relax, hero…

Hands cupping his face with deceptive gentleness. An eye of slitted gold that stares into his very soul.

Legend thrashes.  

Now, now. I said relax. It will be much easier if you do. 

Pain explodes against his ribcage, snarls down in his gut. It streaks outward, hungry for more of him. Down the paths of nerves, up the branches of veins it zips, taking agony with it. His vision bleeds shades of violet and crimson and obsidian. 

The tangle of nauseating hues swarm him. An embrace. A strangle hold. 

He kicks, punches, claws. Anything to get free. Anything. 

Stop that, Hero of Legend. You know it is hopeless. 

You know that you are mine.

One arm stops cooperating. His thoughts scatter. When he tries to sweep them back up to something comprehensible, they flee. His skull pounds near to splitting open. 

Aren’t you tired?

He chokes on a sob. He is. He is so, so tired.

Don’t you — you poor powerless creature — don’t wish you had the power to save them all?

He is powerless. He who could not save the girl he had loved with all of his heart. He who could not comfort a dying brother. 

He does. He does want to become powerful. Powerful enough to protect them. Powerful enough to ensure they will never fade away like she did. 

Your vulnerability, your weakness, your pain…isn’t it all just too much?

“Yes,” he screams. “Make it stop. Please, make it all stop hurting.”

I can do that. But you must do something for me. 

Relax. Allow me in.

He can’t move his other arm now. It doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. Legend stops kicking his feet. He lets himself go limp, lets the darkness cover him until it is all that he knows. 

His throat burns. His tears taste like blood. 

His eyes feel strange.

Good. Good. Doesn’t that feel better? 

He breathes in. He can breathe again, he can…

Legend staggers up from where he had fallen. Shadows coalesce around him. An odd substance surges where flesh once was. It glows hues of crimson and obsidian. Violet irises shine gold. 

He brings a hand up and peers at it, flexing long fingers. He levels a grin at the boy kneeling only a few feet from him, tears streaks on his cheeks, fear and fury in his gaze. 

Oh, yes. That feels much, much better. 

[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!!!

[yveltalreal]

sooooo uhhhhh is maple like. aware in there? or is he like. sleeping? hopefully not... trapped. thatd be a little shitty. no offense Gar-Ang, its a bit hard to trust ya here. ik i dont really have any stakes in this cuz i barely knew maple but people getting hurt and body snatched is kinda cringe

@shilo-sumac

For all intents and purposes when I have control, Maple does not exist as an entity! His soul is no longer controlling it's body, but is still stuck within it, so it goes into a state of spiritual stasis until I let him regain control!

She doesn't even remember it at all! Once she wakes up, it's like simply blinking and however long as passed! A very humane way of doing things! No distress at all!

[peachielee-mun]

What is my brain good for if not mixing special interests together???

[peaksaturation]

BYLER: is there a ghost? (the ghost is their internalized homophobia) - a manifestation theory edit! wait for the beat drop 🙏 -- ⚠ FLASH WARNING ⚠ TW: horror, possession, homophobia, screaming, hospital, fire, needles (fake) -- 🎥 EDITS MASTERLIST 🎶 🌟 group by media, character/ship, or all (top bar) 🌟 sort, filter, or search (top right) 🌟 click to open details incl. links to all soc media

[whump-my-dear-watson]

peter + eddie sharing symbiote trauma

WHUMPTOBER 2024 NO. 21 "SPIRIT POSSESSION"

[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)

[weirdmamagnet]

Little thumbnail I slapped together, might do something with it at some point.

[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

[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.

[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.”

[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 ❤