I’ve been brainrotting and now have some evil fWhip angst because someone had to do it. Might make a part two if I'm feeling skrunkly enough. I'll link it here if I finish it.
Tw: possession, angst, body horror, mild to moderate violence, derealization
fWhip was digging through his chests when it happened the first time. He was shuffling around, looking for his lasts bits of deepslate for a building in the Grimlands. But so far all he had was less than half a shulker box full.
He grumbled, his body halfway into the chest in the storage room as he desperately rummaged around for the block. He huffed as he realized he might have to go mining for it.
He began to pull himself away from all of the contents in the chest when something red and glowing caught his eye. Thinking it might be some deepslate redstone, he reached out and grabbed it.
It wasn't.
It was a red vine of Xornoth.
The thing instantly began writhing in his fingers, though he was no bigger than his palm.
Immediately, fWhip tried to throw the thing across his room, but not before it had wrapped around two of his fingers. He shook his hand in a frantic motion, hoping, praying that the thing would release his hand.
This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real. Please, Aeor, don't let this be real. The thing intertwining with his fingers began to squeeze, to pinch, to tighten. fWhip frantically tried shaking the thing off, pawing at it, anything, anything to get it off. The vine was nearly half way up his forearm now, sprouting and growing and squeezing. fWhip could hear his own breathing increase in speed, even as the thing seemed to have a mind of it's own.
Gem, he thought, she can help. Please, let her be able to help. As fast as he could, he began running, sprinting out of his storage hall. To his twin. To anyone who could stop this thing from growing.
It was under his skin now. It was seething. It was in his veins. It was his veins. He was almost cradling his right arm now. It seemed to be on fire, the red flames of pain spiking, slithering all the way up his arm. It was to his shoulder even as he shot off the ground as soon as there was an empty spot in the sky for him.
It was under his skin. It was crawling up his jaw. The corruption reached a cut under his eye he hadn't noticed was there. And it burned.
Please, whatever gods may be out there, fWhip prayed, make it stop.
The sky was blurring with red, tilting like a corrupted scale. The tinkerer could feel his body tipping as he flew over his starter base. Despratley, he spammed rockets like no other, but to no avail.
“No, no, no no no no,” fWhip hissed, desperate, the sound of his own corrupted heartbeat in his ears. This wasn't real. Xornoth was tricking him. Nothing was wrong. But everything was wrong. All of it was. He could taste the vines in his mouth. This wasn't right. It was wrong. It was bad. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. By Aeor’s name it hurt.
fWhip hadn't realized how close he was to the ground he was until he crashed into the snow of the mountain range.
Rocks, tree roots, snow, branches, vines were everywhere. The stone grated against his back, the snow doing nothing to smooth any of the pain down. Suddenly he was coughing, hacking, desperate for this thing to get out of him.
The world was shifting, he felt dizzy, the ground was swaying this way and that, even as he pushed himself onto his stomach, using an arm to hold him up as he spat into the snow.
“Get it out of me, please, please just get it out,” it was a whispered prayer that none would hear. The corruption was everywhere now, even crawling down upon his self-made wings. The world was red but white, corrupted yet grounded, hot but freezing. He was stuck between two worlds--that of Xornoth and his. Or was it some other force? Some sort of other entity?
It didn't matter to fWhip.
Suddenly, there was a figure with him in the snow. An unfamiliar one, but somehow he knew exactly what it was. He could barely look up at the demon as he continued to hack and spit red into the snow. It was all red. Red vines, red demons.
Red blood.
“What do you want from me?” fWhip spat, trying desperately in between breaths to shuffle away. It didn't work. He could only see the clawed feet of the creature as it creeped ever closer. Only right in front of the cursed tinkerer did it stop.
It crouched down, the red hand reaching out to grab the man’s chin, forcing him to look at the demon.
“Its not what you have, you have to understand, dear Count,” the thing said, “its what you can get me.”
fWhip felt his stomach drop, like a fist of iron had grabbed it and tugged it down. The demon smiled with sharp teeth, and swung itself into his body, the tinkerer flown out to other way. Where his eyes once were were now red, and he could feel his spirit bonded with the demon’s. They shared a body, but like an older sibiling taunting the younger by holding an item out of their reach, fWhip tried and tried again to regain his body but to no avail.
There was nothing he could do as Xornoth hunted for his brother.
Ok but can someone make an art of fWhip on the dragon with Gem and just loving it because it's so new and cool but then after it really settles in everything is gone. Everything he's worked for, everything he built with his own hands. All of it is gone. And he thinks its his fault. Xornoth is out because of him. Scott's dead because of him. Now all he has is Gem and his dogs and his sword.
