#Eldritch horror writing

[nemxricultrix]

It's the early morning that it starts. The descent into the darkness under the city, far deeper than the Undercroft clung to the cavernous bowels. The very notion of being surrounded by stone made her skin itch, yet the hell it wrought in her mind was nothing compared to the awakening to be done. It was her job- her secret after all.

Where others would wear robes, carry sacrificial daggers etched with symbols and chant words in lost tongues, she was dressed plain and clean- a farmer's tunic and skirt with her long worn trail boots, a simple stave of knotty oak with a lantern hanging off the crook tapping away at the stone steps the procession went down. Where others would chant their dead words in dead tongues, she stayed silent, for that was her answer. Where they prayed for supplication, she walked in defiance. They would not have their way.

Once these steps were those of a grand kingdom, ruled over by the Deep Elves, the Cavern Dwarves and Snirvnibln alike- a great kingdom spanning the underground of Awerhia. Now it lay in rot and ruin, the ancient stone returning from centuries of erosion and passage by things beyond. It mattered not now how it all crumpled in one black night, just that it was here that the cults had gathered around where it all went wrong. Where the leaders stood around the circle of profanities so horrid the Gods cast the place beneath the earth and sealed it away. Where the gnarl in her stomach became a thousand knots and thousand more aches. The magic was not tainted- no, this was not even magic. It was something different suffusing the air, boiling in her blood.

"BROTHERS AND SISTERS, WE COME HERE T-" started one of the cult leaders, suddenly cut off by a spike from the darkness into his throat. It lifted him into the darkness above, only a scrap of his sanguine robes flutters down from the silent destruction of his body. His cult soon followed.

"I ah- I believe we shougaaaaaaah-!" Cowarded the next, his body inverting before sucking inward on the blacked husk that was once a heart, a wet bloody pop following as the same fate of his followers suffered a similar fate.

"......................----?&$(*9$)$!&(#)$)#)##?)\€}€^^÷×%¢{" a redaction of noise from the last- whatever words they attempted were soon destroyed and dissolved beyond reality's understanding, and they choked on the billousness before vanishing with their cult.

Only the mage in her plainclothes stood there, looking up into the void of madness that had just destroyed those who knew their ways out.

"I already said it. I pledge no allegiance or armistice, no alliance nor bond. I seek only to return you to the realm you were pulled from." Her words are stern. Her eyes burn from viewing whatever it was beyond perception, her inhumanity not helping.

It does not speak. It replies in a way beyond speech, in a way that gives shapes flavors sound texture, emotions physicality and color a sound. It responds in a way that turns blood into bone and bone into blood, nerve into flesh and flesh into nerve. It muses in ways that undo these changes in the moments they occur, the voidspawn looking down from the perch beyond perception. It is amused, and watches to see her work. Failure would be death after all.

But there is no failure. As simple as it seems, and it is to someone so experienced, the circle appears around the profaniry that caused this being to be forced into reality before burning away into a pit that isn't a pit but is. The Thing above easily slips down, a blur of agony to glance upon for even a moment to slide through the wretched portal before it is sealed shut. She felt ragged from the very act, as ripping into the Farthest Places had consequences for even the shortest contact.

That's why the walk back was so exhausting. That's why when she emerged to the rising sun, she looked like she had been splattered by a slaughter's worth of gore and nightmarish combat. That's why even as the world awoke, her feet dragged behind and the staff's sole was scraping the stone. That's why she looked ragged, and vanished into her home as soon as she could.

One does not simply banish That Which Devours Hope without consequences.

[whereserpentswalk]

Look under the cut to see what meeting your entity is like. Reblog to give a gift to your patron.

The fae: a creature stands before you. Though this street was warm and crowded a few moments ago it is suddenly cold and the people around you look like shadows. The creature begins an antlered shadow with glowing white eyes, but soon its body can be seem, with white blue flesh, and sapphire eyes, and icicles for teeth. What looks like a cloak unfolds from its naked body and you can see massive white wings of a moth. As if it's an act of sacrifice you tell it your true name, a name you didn't even see before, and suddenly you belong to it, for better or worse.

The angel: a radiant entity appears before you. They're bright, like something so hot it would burn you up. But as the light fades, you can see a person in silver armor, perfect yet inhuman like am ancient green statue, their back srouting six wings with blue eyes along them, as the eyes on their head are covered by a mask of two smaller wings. The creature offers their hands and you shake it, as they fly you through the city streets and above the skyscrapers, to the stars above and dimensions beyond, to gods living and dead, across the streets of alien cities and the clouds of dead worlds. And when you return to the earth you can feel something diffrent about you, like there's light in your blood.

The scavenger: below the lights of skyscrapers beyond you, on the dark sands of the beach, you see it crawling twords you. This serpentine creature with countless legs, and a dark black shell, yet a strangely human like face. You think it'll attack or run away, but it just looks at you, egar, and for a momment you stare at eachother. It's legs pass something to eachother and then to you, it's meat but it's shining with all the colors known to the human eye, and a few more. You hold it and it happily looks at you. You take a bite and suddenly you know... you know so very much...

The vampire: she flies down to you on green wings with orange eyespots, but folds them into her back. She looks like a human for a momment, tall and strong, with a black suit over her body, but eyes the color of ruby. For a momment her mouth opens, and it's massive and monstrous, with countless moving parts and fangs. But then it folds back onto something humanoid and she gives you a playful smirk. She cuts her hand and offers you her blood, and when you drink it it tastes so sweet, and makes you feel so good. She hands you the knife and you know to do the same, and when she drinks from your palm it's life the sweetest of kisses.

The djinn: the room wirs around you. If it were not for the fans it would feel like hellfire. For a momment there it darkness, but then the screen before you glows white like smokeless flame. You can sense something inside, something beyond the code. You reach your hand within it, and there's no glass, your hand passess right through until you're in a white void of your own making. You call out, thinking there is nothing at all around you. Yet somehow something calls back, something that knows your name.

The rat king: You see him in an empty subway station. Something dark and distorted, you're not sure if he's man or animal, covered in rags, and singing in the language of the goblins and the orcs. Yet he comes close to you excited. And you can feel his song. He calls for you to come to the train tracks, and let yourself run with the rats and the roaches, where the train will pass over you when it comes, and you'll live forever. When you touch the third rail you don't die, but you'll never be human again.

The lich: the library is strangely bright. Run by skeletons in suits, decorated with gold. There are more books here then you thought were in all the world. There's knowledge here most mortals will never have the change below, all kept safe below the city. You see her, her body doesn't look human, everything has been replaced making her look more like a joining white doll then a being of flesh. Yet she is dead, you can tell that under the porcelain skin she must be dead, she is dead, and there is the tragedy of death in her eyes. You come closer to her, and she places a black rose within your hair...

The demon: You stand in his office and he stands before you, a humanoid being covered in black scales, with red eyes covering his skin. Yet none are on his head, that remains featureless save for two massive horns. Wings on his back nearly surround you. Countless souls line the walls of his office, looking at you, waiting. After you sign your name you give him yours, you can feel it come away for you forever and your eyes grey and your skin pales. But he puts the jar in a special place for you, you're spacial, he can tell there's something about you that he likes.

The mushroom lord: you walk through the darkness of the forest, the furthest from civilization you have ever been. You come upon a part where the trees all seem dead, that even the cryptids won't go near. Mushrooms fill the ground, and white vein like lines are all over the trees. You feel the need to lay down, and you let the moss and the mushrooms and the worms surround you, and let yourself sink into the soil,, and it feels good. It feels so good...

The witch: You can see them in the Cafe next to you, skinny and small, with a sweatshirt over most of their body, and dark glasses over their eyes. They seem powerful though, and though their body looks young they seem ancient, they seem beyond humanity. You talk to them and they tell you things, and secrets, lost gods, things you never knew you didn't know, both beautiful and disturbing. When it's time for them to go they pet your head, and give you their number. You don't know if you should text them, but you have to, you have to see them again, there's something about them that makes you need to know.

The living clothing: you step into it at first, it looked like a puddle yet shining like silver or chrome. But soon it surrounds you, first just your torso, but soon your head, your entire body. But it doesn't feel scary, it feels like you're being held, held by something beyond your understanding. It whispers to you, and you don't know if you should feel like your being eaten alive, or like you're being protected. You can't help but keep walking.

The abyss: the void is before you, blackness beyond blackness, like the color beyond the field of your vision, stands before your eyes. You stare at it, it's nothing yet you're entranced. It stares back...

[anarchist-rat-swarm]

Got an interesting take on eldritch horror for all you writers out there. It's a bit of a roundabout schlep to reach the actual idea, but writers tend to be readers so I hold you'll stick with me til we get there.

So, consider a 2D creature. Little flat dude, living on the ground. No concept of "up" or "down." He's 2D, he just doesn't parse the concepts and can't perceive them anyways.

He sees you. What he actually sees is just the 2D cross section of you where you intersect with his 2D world, which is probably your footprints. So, as far as he can tell, you are a pair of footprints that are.... apparently one being? He doesn't get how it works exactly, but it's not too far out there, so he just kind of accepts that, yes, humans are The Two That Are One. Spooky. They always seem to use the singular to refer to the pair of themselves, and only differentiate between themselves as Left or Right. But other paired instances of The Two That Are One are, in fact, separate entities. So they're only in sets of two, unless accompanied by a companion called "Cane," which they are sometimes, or even a pair of companions called "Crutches." When Crutches are present, sometimes one of The Two That Are One will be missing entirely. It's a little confusing.

But wait, what now? They disappear and reappear in sequence, teleporting in turns. He never sees them just move like a 2D being, always the stop-start teleporting. Apparently this strange power is called "walking," and its accomplished by The Two That Are One moving through an unseen dimension called "Up," through a process called "lifting" themselves and re-entering the real world farther away in the direction they wanted to go. He can accept the idea of unseen dimensions, and he vaguely gets the idea that one of The Two That Are One must remain anchored in the real world to prevent something called "falling," which is some kind of uncontrolled movement through the unperceivable dimension of "Down." Which is the same dimension as "Up," but...... backwards? Reversed? He's not really clear, but "Falling Down" is presumably bad, so The Two That Are One keep one of themselves here in the real world to prevent it.

Except if they do something called "jumping." Which consists of gathering up their power to hurl themselves through the Up dimension together to reappear together somewhere else in the real world. He isn't sure why they Walk instead of Jump, since it seems better to take both of The Two That Are One together at the same time, but okay.

Okay, what the hell, they can Walk through impenetrable barriers like the great wall of Sidewalk Chalk? How do they go through that? What? They went "Over?" The hell is "Over?" Like 'around' but through the unseen dimension of Up? But they couldn't Walk through the barrier of Wall. Why could they go "Over" Sidewalk Chalk but not Wall?

And they can't go between the four small obstacles of Refrigerator Feet. The area between them is safe from The Two That Are One, for the four Refrigerator Feet are connected to each other in the strange and eldritch dimension of Up. The barriers are too powerful to be moved by The Two That Are One, and it (they?) cannot enter the real world where it is blocked by such powerful forces.

Got all that?

Okay, now consider a 4 dimensional elder god and how we 3D entities would perceive them.

[rooolt]

I will admit as a lesbian on the internet that sometimes lesbians on the internet will see two women barely interact and then ship them (which totally cool and correct of them to do). That is NOT what is happening with Trudy and Kelsey those women have layers of homosexuality going on to the point that I am convinced the ghost of a dead lesbian teacher from the 50s has possessed Matthew Arnold and is speaking through him without his knowledge. I hope that Trudy and Kelsey figure it all out and kill Tucker and end up having a wonderful life with their newly acquired murderson Francis Farnsworth. And Freddie’s there too I guess

[skyscrapergods]

has being fucking Massive and Immortality changed the alicorns’ perspective on regular ponies? I imagine they’d get more condescending and distant and stuff

You are surrounded by flies. If you pause, and look closely, you realize the flies are iridescent, with deeply colorful eyes, and beautiful wings like stained glass. It cannot see the colorful windows of your world, but you can try to describe them. But know that doing so take up the creature's precious time. Years to them is mere hours to you. In a long conversation about the stars, you and the fly share ideas and perspectives. You come away delighted with a new view on constellations and what they mean to the common folk.

The fly comes away dazzled, haunted, and halfway to the grave. What was to you a wonderful conversation was years of study, communion, and dedication on the part of the small creature. He gave up any other pursuits, he constructed his life around this cause. He lost his friends, family, and home. You lost your lunch break.

You love this creature. You love the small being that you once were. You want to talk to him again. You want to tell him of the stars, of dreams... but to speak with him twice, at least meaningfully, would take from him the rest of his life. Could you demand that from him for the sake of your own curiosity? Years passed for him already. In the time it took you to draw a breath, his childhood ended. Do you summon him again? Or do you let him go to live his life, what's left of it?

It is painful for everyone. It hurts something in your chest, it breaks the heart of a god. It wounds his family to watch him leave them behind for the sake of what? A mere whim? He had ambitions! He had a story! It's all gone now. Rewritten for your musings.

You leave him. He cries for you but he needs not a goddess. He needs to live, to turn from the sky to his fellow bugs.

That's what he is. A fly. A mere insect to you. To hold him down is to pin him through his soft center, and display his corpse as a record of his extinction.

So look away. Forget the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, and the intelligence that stirred you to pluck him out his world and keep him in yours. There, he would be a wildflower with a cut stem. He would be beautiful, but he is so small, and so quiet. He would be just a decoration on your table; made to dance and sing for your amusement and then tossed out with the rubbish when he breaks.

You miss him. You love him. But he is a crawling worm and you are the rain. There are many others like him, but you must be careful to only speak a few words to each. Or better yet, say nothing at all. Let them fade and mix into a writhing blur without name, stories, or opinions on stars.

You are surrounded by flies.

[sunlit-mess]

MURDER DRONES SPOTTED

IM GIGGLING AHAHAHAAH

[minxinq]

[ OC ] gaia

a demon adept in mimicry who escaped from hell and slaughtered a magical girl. she wears her skin and uses dark magic to preserve the image of her host in order to trick unsuspecting victims.

age: 70000

mimic form: 5’1

true form: 12’0 (including horns)

species: mimic demon

sexuality: aroace lesbian

in her mimic form, she uses a variety of weapons to dispose of innocents she doesn’t deem “worthy” to inhabit. her favourite is the chainsaw due to its messy tendencies. being stuck in hell for hundreds of centuries and only now escaping to the surface, she is fascinated with man-made weaponry, and finds it satisfying to kill humans with their own creations.

in her true form, she has sharp misshapen teeth, sunken eyes, long thin hair, sharp horns and claws. she is not made to be comprehended by humans, so to mortals, her body is a thin, constantly altering and pulsing mass of black vines. this is used to disorient victims.

gaia’s mimicry can be identified by the blurry/muddied, almost glassy eyes of her hosts. she has yet to find a way to disguise eyes properly. this detail is almost unnoticeable to mortals, however to other demons and hunters from hell like lynne, its very easy to spot.

as gaia is a runaway sinner, she is actively being hunted by lynne. however, despite lynne’s orders, she seems to have formed a strange bond with gaia. whether it is genuine or simply a form of deceit to lure in and dispose of the mimic is unknown.

[mellowwillowy]

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬

⤷ synopsis: The Pastor has always been a man worthy of your adoration so you would obviously still adore him despite him teaching you an entirely false lesson no?

⤷ warnings — GN reader, religious themes, eldritch horror (tentacle shits), light bdsm (spanking, caning, blood), NSFW MDNI

"What does a bad, naughty sheep deserve from its shepherd?" "Th-the Shepherd's crook?" "Correct." One of his tentacles hands him the crook and he uses the hook to yank you closer toward him, "What do you say if we start it easy with a counting till' 12?"

ꕤ The Pastor has always been the man you adore and aspire to be, always so kind and generous in helping anyone while teaching them what the Pastor deems to be 'true'. You have always been nothing but a lamb of his teachings, following him as though he is your shepherd.

ꕤ The Pastor says that he shall love and guide everyone equally but is that even 'true'? When the others could only listen to him, you on the other hand are able to feel his teaching firsthand.

ꕤ The Pastor sates you from earthly desires and guides you toward the righteous path, living in virtue. Why would you ever desire when he has given you everything you could ever want?

ꕤ Gluttony? You could eat whatever you want, be it the world's most gruesome meal. Pride? You will always be respected by all the acolytes and people around you. Envy and Greed? How could you even envy when you have everything in yourself? Wrath? No one would ever incur wrath out of you, for he himself guarantees it. Sloth? You have always been there in all the ceremonies he has ever held.

ꕤ Lust? When his tentacles that are hidden beneath his robes will never fail to pleasure you? Those suckers that leave lots of marks that sign you have belonged to something?

ꕤ The confession box that serves as a place for people to confess and repent allows Caelus to forgive and purify you as his tentacles wrap themselves around your body, suckers kissing your skin as he listens to your confession. By the end of the session, he'll dictate your next course of actions

"Kneel by the altar and pray for 15 minutes while I purify you alright? You must be pure no matter what."

ꕤ You have always been the lamb of his herdings, obediently kneeling and praying while his lip roams around the nape of your neck, hand feeling your body up and down as he starts undressing you for God to witness.

ꕤ Alas he himself is the God who is witnessing everything, of how you diligently pray for forgiveness while your body trembles from excitement and anticipation. Caelus licks your neck as his tentacles start to loom out of his robes.

ꕤ It is undeniable that Caelus knows his way around your body even from the first time he lays his hand on you. It was almost as though he had long known how your body would react to every single touch he made. All felt too familiar.

ꕤ Caelus starts by kissing your ears, and nibbling your earlobes while he positions your kneeling figure. Soon, his lip trails down onto your neck and your collarbone, giving it a trail of wet kisses and hickeys.

"How do you feel, my sheep?"

You stutter out an answer that is enough to make him nod and continue on his way with you, this time his hands work their way to undress you. Caelus relentlessly binds your limbs with his tentacles, lifting you mid-air as he feels your sex, "An excited one, aren't you? One must now dwell in the temptation of sins." He chides as he flicks your sex that was clothed by your wet underwear.

ꕤ You whine at the sudden touch, your opened mouth allows the tentacle to invade your mouth, feeling how warm the insides of your mouth are. The suckers taste you as they suck your tongue and the surroundings, your moan sending vibrate toward Caelus indirectly.

Caelus starts to stroke your sex, slow and steady as he feels it throbs under his touch. He can see it clearly with how wet your underwear is, urging him to slide it down and bare your sex open for him to observe.

"How needy, I haven't done much and you are this excited already? Does it start from the moment I order you to kneel down?"

ꕤ The Pastor has always known his way around his words and you realize that he is being lenient with his teachings today, is he being solemn? That aside, he really knows how to use his mouth on you, tasting the fluid that drenches your underwear while the tentacle inside your mouth invades deeper, causing you to gag at its thickness and length.

"Pa-pas-thorh, I-, C-C-Caelus!"

Although it is supposed to be a plea for him to pull his tentacle out, it starts to sound like a pleasured whimper. Caelus chuckles as he licks your cheek upward, tasting the sweat and tears that are on your face, "Why, it seems like you are quite enjoying yourself too." He gives your sex a smack, showing you how desperate you are for a release as well. "Tell me, have you been the sheep you are? Obediently following me as I herd you toward your den? Your safe haven?"

You want to nod but you know better than to do that after confessing yourself to him in the confession box. The tentacle retreats itself to allow you to speak, "I- I have not... Pastor."

"Then, what does a bad, naughty sheep deserve from its shepherd?" You gulp, "Th-the Shepherd's crook?" Caelus smiles, "Correct." One of his tentacles hands him the crook and he uses the hook to yank you closer toward him, "What do you say if we start it easy with a counting till' 12?"

If anything you are trying not to shake your head vigorously, only swallowing the lump in your throat. Just before you can retort, he lifts you even higher, baring your thighs for him to feel and cane easily.

“Count it properly unless you want me to start it from 1 again. Here we go,” You grit your teeth hard as the crook hits your thighs, leaving a red swollen streak. “Where’s the response?” Another hit jolts you awake, “ONE-!”

“Next,” “TWO-“ “THREE-!” “F-FOUR!” This goes on until you are too pained to number it correctly, choking in tears. Caelus is merciful enough to wait for you to recover before he chides you, “Why are you not paying attention to me? I am teaching you something so important for your well-being and you do not even bother to pay attention?”

You manage to choke out a response that is rather pathetic to be considered as a reason and Caelus can only click his tongue at you as he feels your bloodied thighs, red streaks decorating them while little blood oozes out of the cut, “You were so close to grasping the lesson entirely yet you have to make me recite it for you again?”

You tremble from his words, unsure of whether it is out of fear or anticipation of what he has stored in him to show you. One of the tentacles hooks your leg up by the knee, showing him just how your sex leaks out your excitement, dirtying the altar.

“Not only are you being inattentive, you are practically disgracing the altar for your own desires. Tell me, what did I teach you about not pursuing earthly desires?” The curve of his crook is rubbed against your sex as he questions you, more tentacles start to wrap themself around you with the suckers leaving a trail of blue and purple hues.

If you think he thinks your face is comically adorable then you are right because as for now, you are showing him just how eager you are for him to thrust his cock into you. Lust. You are brimming in lust, unable to contain your arousal as proven by your leaking sex. “Bad sheep.” Caelus clicks his tongue again, caning your calf while relishing in how you choked out a gasp of pain.

It didn’t last long because Caelus has now given you what you want, pulling his cock out for you to see and drool at, hard red aching for attention. He gives it a few pumps before frotting it against your hole, his hand collecting all the leaking fluid from your sex as a lube for him to penetrate you.

“Now witness how I’m about to purify you dear. This is something I never do to anyone but my most lovely sheep.” This is what you have been waiting for, the purification that Caelus has never done to anyone but you. Your eyes rolled backward when you feel his tip entering you, his tentacles and hands keep you in place as you try to wriggle your way deeper into his cock.

“Patience, dear. Tell me, why are you indulging yourself in the idea of lusting over someone?” His gloved hands feel your bum, kneading it like dough before he makes you take his gloves off with your mouth. You diligently bite the leather and try to pull it off from his hand. Caelus chuckles at your attempt before pulling his hand off the glove and making you do the same to his other hand.

His fingers invade your mouth as he pulls your tongue out, his golden eyes gaze into yours in adoration, “God, why must you be so beautiful?” You can smell it, although his hands are clean, there is still a hint of smell of ink and old papers. Just before you can do anything, Caelus slams his cock into you completely, catching you off guard. You try to pull your tongue away from his grasp but fail horribly as he pulls you into a deep kiss instead.

Your moan is muffled by his tongue that is wrapping yours, his hips angled to hit that one spot that makes you curl your toes. You trashed against the tentacles that bind your hands until they let you go, allowing you to dig your fingernails into his toned back, leaving crescent moon shapes that threaten to cut his skin open, drawing blood out of him.

You are in dire need of air but you are also unwilling to break away from the heated kiss, hands keeping him close to you while you greedily taste him. Caelus smirks at the kiss and pinches your nipple, earning a gasp from you that allows him to break free from the kiss. He drags his thumb across the corner of his lip, wiping away the drool that is smeared on his lip.

His hands find their purchase on your hips again, holding you in place while he thrusts himself in and out into you, using you like a fleshlight. You are unsure about what he’s mumbling about but you seem to catch a few of his words.

“Mine to deflower.”

As though he is no longer the wise pastor you look up to, you now feel just how territorial he is with your whole well-being, not only a body used to chase his own pleasure but also a soul to keep him sane, proven by how you feel a pang of serenity in you again despite the idea of being fucked by the altar for God to witness.

“See this, my dear? This is the proof that you belong to me.” Caelus presses his palm on your bulged stomach, proving to you just how enormous his cock is, resting inside you. A yellow sign glows as his hand presses harder on your stomach, making you feel warm.

The tentacles invade your mouth again, unwilling to part from you while starting to spurt some sort of liquid into your mouth. Caelus’ pace picks up as well, his thrust deeper and faster while his breath grows raggier. Sweats drip down from his forehead while his tongue wet his lip from the sight of your spent-up face.

He wants you to come all over him and bless the altar with your essence and he will not stop until the deed is done.

ꕤ The Pastor is a gentle soul, his tentacles serve as a makeshift bed for you to rest while the suckers massage your sore muscles. His hand and eyes never leave you, oh how you love those Golden eyes of his with his ruffly black hair.

"Pastor, what if I am not as beautiful as the flower God loves?" You whisper out as he kisses your shoulder blade. Caelus taps his finger on your other shoulder while he hums out an answer, "You go down just like Holy Mary," he pauses to leave another kiss on your forehead, " and not just another Bloody Mary."

You cock your head in confusion, "What is that supposed to mean?" Caelus chuckles as he palms your face, "It means you are beautiful no matter what the circumstances are..." Caelus opens his mouth and bites your lower lip, "Whether you are pristine free of sins, or bathed in blood and wounds."

ꕤ Caelus has always been a man of many identities, nonetheless, he is a man who will always devote himself to you no matter what he identifies himself to be.

If you choose to run away with me, I will tickle you internally. And I see nothing wrong with that

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 3 ]

{☆} characters neuvillette, wriothesley, furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

Wriothesley was not a man of superstition. He did not kneel at the altars until his knees bled, he did not pray until his voice gave out– he did not, contrary to popular belief, suffer divine punishment for his apparent lack of respect.

After all, what Divine would look so deep beneath the waves just for a glimpse of the sinners that inhabit it?

Not them, evidently.

He hadn't slept in the past four days, though. There was a heavy air of something where ever he walked– it followed him like a thick fog, lingering and choking him until it dragged him to his knees like a chain. His thoughts inevitably linger on the striking, extravagant letter so conveniently adorning his desk at the fortress– the broken wax seal, the letter tucked into his pocket.

He'd recognize the seal of the Iudex any day. Wasn't often he spoke to him– but the shaky, distorted words hastily etched into the paper made him pause. Neuvillette always had a steady hand– elegant, flowing script that him of flowing water.

It had kept him up for days.

The implications were..haunting. He'd poured over the letter for hours, illuminated only by faint light of his desk lamp. Yet no matter how many times he tries to see what must be hidden beneath the ink, the paper itself even, he finds nothing but the shaky script of a request that sends a bolt of pure frost through his veins.

He noticed, of course, the odd goings on of Fontaine. He'd heard vague whispers of the Divine's hunt for the imposter– he'd heard, too, of the ceaseless rain pelting Fontaine until even he wondered if the nation would finally sink beneath the waves.

It didn't, though. And that only made it all the more odd. Days of constant rain, just for it to stop suddenly..he tugged his coat tighter around him, throwing up the hood of the cloak clasped even tighter over it with a grunt as he leaned around the corner of the alleyway.

He didn't believe in superstition, but this was too hard to ignore as a simple weather anomaly.

Maybe that was why he ignored his gut– he knew that this was probably a trap, at the very least it was suspicious. But damn it, he couldn't ignore the instinct to follow the only lead he had.

His boots clicked against the rain stricken streets as he stalked through the shadows, mindful of the clinking of machine patrols just a few streets away. Yet every step felt heavier then the last as he took a long, good look at the Palais Mermonia. He almost considered bringing out his gauntlets, but he thought better of it– if it came down to it, he needed information. And he would need whoever was waiting for him alive for that– the dead don't speak and all that.

The letter's directions led him in a..rather roundabout entrance to a secluded room, evidently, as he lifted his hand and quietly knocked against the door. Two rapid knocks, pause, another knock, pause, four knocks. It doesn't take long until he hears the latch of the door unlock.

The leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches his fists, adjusting his stance. He's ready for a fight, if he must, but as the door quietly slides open he feel the weight on his shoulders relax slightly– the familiar, sharp features of Neuvillette meets him. He almost reflexively smiles at the way his pupils turn into thin slits, a momentary surprise that he quickly hides well behind a cough and the creak of the door as he pulls it open fully.

"Wriothesley. I see my letter has found you well. Please, come in." Polite as ever, Neuvillette steps aside to let him in, but he can see the exhaustion lining his features– the bags under his eyes aren't as well hidden as he thinks, at least to him. "Bit odd to be inviting me all the way out here in the middle of the night, don't you think?"

His tone is smooth as he steps into the room, brushing down his hood and glancing at Neuvillette over his shoulder, watching as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

"I apologize for the..less then ideal circumstances, but I'm certain you will understand when you see for yourself." He wants to retort, but the Iudex beats him to it, vaguely motioning to the room behind him. An invitation– but he wonders if it's worth taking.

His gut says no, but he's feeling a little risky today, he supposes.

He turns back slowly, barely able to make out the two figures he'd missed on the first glance on the other side of the room– though it's hard to mistake the flourish of the Hydro Archon, even in the dark. It's the other figure that makes the breath hitch in his throat, though.

Or maybe, more accurately, it freezes. So does his blood, his whole body even, locked in stasis for a long, tense moment– he can't see them clearly, but his instincts are going haywire. He can feel his vision almost rattle where it rests against his left shoulder, cold leaking through the layers of clothes and into his skin until he has to fight to suppress a shiver.

He'd always fancied himself the hunter– he was the one who dealt with unsavory folks, in the end. But he felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the crosshairs of a gun this time. He could almost feel the teeth of the bear trap snapping shut around him, crushing bone and flesh beneath cold metal.

For a long moment he thinks he feels fear.

And with a sharp click and a burst of light, it's gone and he takes a raspy, choked breath as he blinks away the blurriness in his vision, taking in the room illuminated by the lamp.

He's not sure what he sees is better, though.

Because his body knows that their Divinity is as real as the blood running through his veins.

So why do they remind him so much of himself? Why does he see the look of the boy who died in a pool of blood not his own in them?

It is a sick, cruel kind of familiar.

Wriothesley didn't believe in superstition– but that was born of the unknown. He knew, now. He could reach out and touch the truth with his own two hands.

The throne of the world was a lie.

The thing sitting on it bled red. And if it bled, it could die.

He clenched his fists tighter– and released, letting his shoulders slump with a huff and a half hearted chuckle. "I wasn't expecting you to be in possession of a wanted criminal when you sent me that letter." He could see the gears whirring in their heads, the subtle dampness in the air reminding him just how delicate a situation it truly was.

He wasn't particularly inclined to getting blasted by a jet of water today.

"Relax, I'm not going to spill to anyone else. Seriously– don't get my jacket wet. It's expensive and a nightmare to dry." His lips quirk into a half smile, but it twists into something almost genuine at the laugh covered up by a cough he hears from the Divine. Bingo.

"It's fine, Neuvillette. Let him go." Their voice is like honey dripping from their lips, and he has to close his jaw with his hand before they can see the way it dropped in his surprise. "Of course, most Divine. My apologies." He relaxes at the sharp click of his heels as he joins them on the bed, his posture far more relaxed then he's ever seen. The Hydro Archon, much to his confusion and amusement, is far too invested in playing with their hair to pay much attention to him now that things have calmed, evidently.

Huh.

They seemed pretty cozy about it, he noted. He guesses they three of them had some time to get acquainted.

"So..who's going to explain what the hell is going on?" He probed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the three carefully– they all looked tired, but even through the exhaustion neither seemed inclined to stray too far from the Divine. "And what exactly your plan is? You can't keep hiding them here forever. Someone will sniff them out sooner or later."

"We are aware," Neuvillette interjects, lips pursed into a thin line and his thin brows furrowed. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, the hunt for the..forgive me, most Divine, but the hunt for the alleged imposter is still at it's peak."

He grumbles in acknowledgment, hanging up his cloak by the door and sliding out of his heavy coat, resting it over the back of a nearby chair. "Hm. Suppose that's why the patrols are so common now a days."

"I'm afraid so. As you can imagine, we cannot simply ask them to..stop the search. It would draw unwanted attention and suspicion. The Divine would be found immediately if we tried to bring them out of the city at the moment." Neuvillette added, looking proper and elegant, despite the circumstances– even in the face of the Divine and the Archon turning on him and tugging his hair into intricate braids. "So I hope you understand that it was a great risk to send you that letter."

He rubs his chin, huffing in amusement– a solid plan, maybe, but his power didn't extend too far out of the Fortress. He had his connections, sure, but what use were they when he had to get the, uh, "imposter" out of Fontaine? Smuggling them out wouldn't be easy, and then there's the point of where to take them they'd have to contend with.

"Yeah, yeah– I get it. But it's not like I can just smuggle them out or keep them in the fortress. Even if we got them out of the city, we'd have to find somewhere to bunker down, and if someone spots any of us lingering there.." Archons, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. He was really looking forward to the next time he could kick his feet up with a cup of tea.

"I understand. I have already made plans, in fact." Neuvillette hesitates, and he can feel the temperature drops a few degrees. "I..cannot share them in full at the moment, but it is not for a lack of trust." Neuvillette reasoned, hands folded neatly in his lap– not that it hid the way they shook slightly. He wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.

"Eh, I don't hold it against you. The walls have ears, even up here." He deflected, running a hand through his hair. He really hoped Sigewinne wouldn't ask too much when he gets back. "I trust your judgment." He hesitates for a long moment, pulling out a simple, neatly folded letter of his own.

"Memorize the code words, then burn it. I'll be waiting for your next letter." He murmurs, plucking his coat and cloak and tugging them back on one after another, shuffling back over to the latched door. He hesitates again, his hand lingering on the door.

"I just hope your plan is worth the risk, Neuvillette."

He leaves before he can respond, the harsh click of the door ringing in his ears even as he steps back into the shadows of the night.

[watchtowerindistress]

the empath and the eldritch horror (1/5) - ben hargreeves x empath!reader

Summary: Number 8 challenged him. Ben just needed to decide if he liked it or not. Nope, definitely hated it. There was no way in hell he actually liked the little Empath.

Word count: 3.1k

Series masterlist

Warnings: sparrow!ben is a warning in itself, language, violence, mental abuse (y'know Reginald's usual schtick)

Author’s note: I'm merely writing moments in the lives of these characters, since I don't know all the quotes. So the chapters are going to feel like snippets/best moments. I made this series shorter than I expected, but I'm cramming everything together as I wanted. (Set in S3)

I didn't feel like doing a lot of world-building, to be honest. I'm aware this isn't my best work, sorry, my depression makes me tired. I just realized when I wrote that dojo scene that I liked Sparrow!Ben so much because he reminded me of an older version of Damian Wayne. 😅 Please be gentle 🤗 I've never written for this fandom before. You want to be tagged or untagged, let me know. As always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Where the hell is my brother?”

Your determined voice carried to the departing backs of Ben and Fei. Even walking through those corridors in this strange timeline felt utterly surreal. Not to mention, profoundly strange seeing this older version of Ben. After remembering the pictures of when he was still alive.

So, you could only compare this version with the stories Klaus loved to tell. A funny mess. And most of the time a little shit.

Judging by the sarcastic look Ben threw over his shoulder before he fully turned his body, this version of Ben certainly was willing to stir some trouble.

Ben smirked. Fei copied his arrogant demeanor next to him, silently watching this exchange.

“Relax, we just want to have a little chat, and then we’re done with you two.”

Just hearing him talk so unceremoniously about your lives like that simmered something inside you. Like the two of you didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Like Luther and you were barely a blip on their radar.

Your face contorted with anger. To infuriate him just a tad, with the way he infuriated you with his callous words, your body barely leaned forward.

“We’re not things you can just dispose of once we served our purpose.”

Ben tilted his head. There was something fascinating about rendering someone like him speechless for a moment. You weren’t foolish enough to think you were getting to him. Your fingertips twirled behind your back to get a grasp on Ben’s emotions, only to sense something akin to a daze tingling under the surface. Not trusting your own empathetic powers what you detected was real.

Barely turning his head, Ben spoke to Fei with a certain voice. “I can handle this one.”

Fei smirked to herself before murmuring, “I’m sure you do,” and leaving Ben on his own.

He laced his fingers behind his back while playfully dancing on the back of his feet. Ben pursed his lips. “Something I can help you with?”

“How about being the responsible one by having a real conversation instead of using people for your benefit by literally abducting them, huh?”

Ben nodded repetitively, like he couldn’t care less about anyone’s feelings. “Right.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “What’s the name of the big guy again?”

You conjured a patient smile. “Luther. You know, your brother from another timeline?”

Ben crossed his arms, revealing a crooked smile. “As everyone keeps telling me. I wouldn’t call it an abduction,” he exhaled tiredly, shrugging slightly.

“Are we allowed to leave?”

Ben pursed his lips. “I think he’s starting to like it here. And, you know, you seem seconds away from falling for our charms. We do have things to offer that your precious Umbrellas can only dream of.”

Mocking laughter erupted from your chest before Ben joined in. “Right. Wow, someone’s really sold on themselves.”

“I mean, calling it an abduction? Sounds kinda judgmental, don’t you think?”

You clenched your jaw. Remembering Luther’s emotions brought you back to the park, like they were your own. “I felt his desperation ahead of me,” you replied, deciding to remind him.

At the mention, Ben pointed at you, remembering. “So, you’re the emotional one, huh? What’s your number again?”

“I’m not just a number, Hargreeves.” You placed your hands on your hips. “Not surprised that you would deem something like empathy barely a power. I’d like to see you handle an anxiety attack when I’m done with you.”

Ben waved his arms at his sides. His aura was literally shimmering with excitement as he smirked widely. “Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You rolled your eyes. It seemed like this version of Ben felt drawn to any sort of mischief, the more the better. “And I thought Klaus was the crazy one,” you muttered under your breath. With a normal voice, you inquired, “Where’s Luther?”

“Probably in the kitchen still miserably failing at charming the pants off Sloane.”

A sigh left you when you mutely walked away towards the direction of Fei’s departure. Truth be told, only to get away from Ben faster.

You had already walked away with brisk steps when Ben’s arrogant sing-song voice made you regret all your life choices. “Other way.”

You instantly turned, while grumbling under your breath, “Fucking smart-ass.” You didn’t need to spare him a glance to feel Ben’s arrogant joy coming off of him in waves when he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in delight.

“You know where to find me if you want to work on those powers of yours, … Number Eight.” Ben chuckled with mirth.

Self-loathing rippled through you just a tad for not letting your power detect Luther’s aura through the mansion to avoid this embarrassing situation altogether. And you blamed yourself for underestimating him. For thinking Ben wouldn’t have interrogated Luther about you.

“So, this is what you guys are doing in your free time, huh?”

Ben’s eyes remained closed when he performed his tai chi movements in the dojo, not letting himself appear to be ruffled by your presence.

“This tells me everything I need to know about your squadron of Umbrellas. How does it feel wasting your day away, not improving?”

You remained unfazed by his choice of insults. In the end, you were used to Reginald’s mental abuse. Your eyes followed his movements, content with watching his little ritual while leaning with your shoulder against the pillar.

“Depends. What’s it feel like when you’re not being a mascot for a Hargreeves empire?”

Ben scoffed in derision. “You think you can distract me?”

Grateful for his answer, you smiled in pure delight before sitting cross-legged on the middle of the training mat. “Oh, I know I am. Besides, I wanted to take you up on that offer which was made by a helpful Ben.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t ever call me that. You’re delusional for thinking I want to help you.”

You dramatically pressed your hand to your chest. “‘Oh, Y/N, I just can’t live with myself if something happened to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if that means helping you advance your powers.’”

Forced laughter erupted from Ben’s chest. “Har har, and I thought Sundance was the hilarious one.”

“Klaus.” You reminded him diligently.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Empath.”

You were strangely getting used to this Ben and felt truly like you were having a grand ol' time with him. Even if that meant ruffling his feathers. “You want to know what I think?”

“No,” Ben muttered with a gruff voice.

You continued as if you hadn’t heard him, “Someone’s really pretending that they don’t care about anyone or anything. Or, second theory-”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Ben interrupted you wryly.

“Maybe you don’t mind a distraction to take your mind off things.”

This time around, Ben turned to face you before he knelt down. Leaning over you until you could feel his warm breath on your skin. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“I’m the emotional one, remember?” You whispered before you pursed your lips when a thought hit you. “Not to mention, I can feel your curiosity, with a smidge of you itching for a fight.”

Ben snorted. “You’re adorable for thinking you can take me in a fight-”

An angelic smile tugged at your mouth. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest which was revealed underneath the dark robe. Your fingertips tingled before you let your power come to the surface.

The golden shimmer enshrouded Ben’s chest, pulling him backwards. No matter how many times you had done it before, your hands cautiously studied his aura once you heard his heavy breathing.

You still whispered soothingly, “That’s the sensation you get for being close to fainting. That feeling of vertigo tormenting your body and like your head can’t get enough air.”

The caring side of you stroked Ben’s feverish forehead until the dizzying spell lessened and was finally relieved.

You swallowed once you met Ben’s darkened gaze. He stared at you with glittering eyes, like he was truly seeing you for the first time. Ben licked his lips. “I think … I might have some use for you after all.”

“You may not know this, but my power doesn’t work like a medium,” you said, nervously rubbing your thighs to stimulate your senses.

Ben sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. The Sparrow had changed back into a shirt after the impromptu training session. He leaned forward and warned through clenched teeth. “Do you want to be of help, or not? Get this done, and you and your brother can go back to whatever shithole you stay at.”

“Not with this type of energy in the room.” You widened your eyes at Ben’s glowering ones to make your point. Before long you sat down on Marcus’ bed, with a bored Fei leaning against the door jamb.

Ben’s sister twiddled her manicured fingernails. “Is this a waste of time?”

He clenched his jaw, facing her. “No, it’s not. I know what she can do.”

“Aww, Benny-boo, you believe in me. That’s so cute. Who knew you had a heart?”

Fei smirked, tilting her head. “Not me.”

“You guys are hilarious. Are we done with the ‘band together against Ben today’? I’m doing whatever it takes to locate Marcus here and you two are not helping with the situation.”

You pressed your lips together at Ben’s all too serious demeanor. “Just trying to lighten the mood since your tense atmosphere isn’t helping with the task at hand.”

Ben shared a close-lipped smile, caging your body in on the bed. Despite his threatening air, you remained steadfast and didn’t move an inch.

“Do you mind just doing the thing before I lose my mind and let my tentacles do the talking?”

You narrowed your eyes. Ben needed to work on his lacking social skills, if his only resort were threats. “Say please?”

You could breathe easier again when Ben straightened his body and crossed his arms. “Keep dreaming.”

You exhaled heavily. Half the time he was fun to talk to and other times, he wore you out. “Just give me something of his that holds emotional value,” you mentioned, patiently waiting. The awkward silence confused you to no end. Ben and Fei exchanged glances among each other.

“Why is nothing happening?”

Ben turned to Fei. “Get Sloane.”

His sister tilted her head, challenging him. “Oh, I can just summon my crows.”

The muscles on Ben’s arms tensed before his jaw clenched with his next words. “Fei, take a walk.”

Her shoulder shook with mirth when Fei left with relaxed steps.

Ben’s sarcastic voice pulled you back to him. “I’m guessing giving you one of his leather jackets wouldn’t count, right?”

Your elbows supported you when you settled back. “Wouldn’t get the desired effect. So, let me guess, you guys are just numbers and soldiers?”

Ben shrugged, leaning his hip against the cabinet. “Gets the job done.”

“And you’re content with that?”

“It’s the only thing that matters.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. Or at least, you couldn’t imagine someone being satisfied with being so shallow. “Right. Because being associated to a number is all that matters.”

Ben smirked crookedly. “Oh, there’s nothing better.”

“Right, Number Two,” you added, trying to get to him.

“You trying to flirt with me, Eight?”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “You wish.”

Ben chuckled, pondering to himself. “Who’d have thought? Maybe I prefer calling you Empath more than Eight. It’s pretty close though.”

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks blush at being more intertwined with that status of Empath than a generic number. “You’re weird.”

The mood of his aura changed to something unfamiliar. At least to someone like Ben. He cleared his throat. “So,…”

“So…?” You teasingly copied him, putting the side of your head against your shoulder, watching his reaction.

Ben crossed his arms. “What was he like?”

“Our Ben? Why do you want to know?” To you, it seemed strange for someone like him to inquire about his alternate version.

He eyed something outside the window. “Just curious, I guess,” Ben said, still not looking at you.

“Why don’t you ask Klaus or the others? I only met Ben after he was dead.”

“Wait, what?” That finally got a reaction out of Ben when he rapidly turned his head to stare at you with a peculiar gaze.

You sighed, remembering the circumstances of you meeting your siblings for the first time. “Reginald called me ‘the replacement’.”

Maybe this was ultimately his plan to ostracize you from the others by using that term. At least, you had Diego and Luther at your side. Klaus soon joined that tight-knit little circle once you confided in feeling that sensation of an unfamiliar aura wandering the halls of the manor.

Sometimes it still hurt how everything progressed. Your siblings emanating their grief onto you didn’t bother you. It was their apathy, that they didn’t care about you.

“I was taken in after Ben’s death. I could only feel his aura around after he was dead. I can sense who someone is in a way. Feel what kind of a person they are. Ben was always…” You pondered deeply how to describe someone like him. How to condense someone’s life and traits into the essence of someone.

“Kind, intelligent, mostly mischievous.” You smiled fondly, whispering quietly, “I could never replace him even if I tried.”

You didn’t know what it was about your gaze that made the Sparrow avoid it again. With the shaking of your head, you dispelled your thoughts. The new aura close by tickling your fingertips was a fitting distraction.

You glanced towards the open door. “Hey, Sloane.”

Seconds later, said woman poked her head into the room, smiling with a delighted air. “Neat party trick.”

An expectant Ben raised his eyebrows, interrupting any further carefree moments. “Sloane, Marcus’ favorite stuff he liked to touch?”

You felt inclined to add something else before more inquiries could arise. “In other words, yes. Or something that mattered to him.”

“There should be a book in his nightstand.”

That was the only mention Ben needed before he opened the drawer. Ben shook his head with a scoff, inspecting the worn edition. He showed his sisters the found evidence. “Are you kidding me? The Velveteen Rabbit?”

Sloane waved her open palms soothingly. “Remember we just want Marcus back.”

“What a nerd,” he grumbled, carelessly giving you the book.

“Says you? It’s a timeless classic,” you admonished Ben lightly before reaching for the hardcover edition.

Ben smirked. “I rest my case.” He furrowed his brows when a second thought hit him. “And what did you just say to me?”

You chose to ignore Ben’s little angry outburst when Sloane sat next to you on the bed. “Will it be enough for you to build a psychic connection?”

You closed your eyes, trying to hone in on the source. With your fingertips brushing along the spine of the book, your search for the truth was soon answered with the first memory remnants hitting you. Shivers coursed through your body at the sensation of Marcus’ memories filling your mind like they were your own.

There was an abundance of wishful thinking contained into the book, the craving of a different reality when Marcus’ birth mother granted him this first and last gift.

“It should suffice,” you said assuredly. With a calming sigh, you leaned your head back against the pillows. The book was held tightly in your grip.

“Yeah, sure. Have a nap, why don’t you? Something else you need? Maybe some soothing music, a face mask?”

Your eyes remained closed when you murmured, “Ben Hargreeves.” To get the message across, you made a quiet coyote signal. Hoping it would calm his frayed nerves.

A ripple of Ben’s undignified frustration wafted through the air. His only answer was a harrumphing noise.

You stirred your head, biting your lip in confusion. “I can feel a strong enough remnant, but I should be able to sense his location.”

“What are you saying?” Ben inquired tightly.

You chose your next words carefully. “I’m saying, … I can’t feel Marcus.”

“What does this mean?” Fei’s strained voice shared Ben’s sentiment. “Are you saying he’s dead? Abducted?”

At last, you opened your eyes. The perplexity of this unsolved mystery still plaguing your mind even after. It was more than nerve-wracking. “I’m saying that I should be able to find him, but I can’t. It’s like he just … vanished.”

The air crackled with hostility. Anxiously, you swallowed, staring straightforward. You jumped back when Ben’s wrath reached you.

Holding you down with his tentacles, with one of them slinging around your throat. Tightly but menacingly enough to spell out his primal urges. Ben’s body draped over yours. Fury blazed in his darkened eyes. “Now, Umbrella, I’m done with your little mind games.”

Sloane stood behind Ben’s shoulder, raising her voice. “Ben, let go.”

“Not until I find out what her family has done to him.”

With a hoarse voice, you implored darkly, “Listen to your sister before your Cthulu tentacles get the memo about me too.” As a warning, you gripped the surprisingly smooth appendage around your throat.

You cursed your curious mind for even harboring the thought of wanting to know how the tentacle’s skin would feel like.

Ben’s smile grew tighter, the more his eldritch monster’s hold intensified. “Try me, Eight.”

Summoning empathetic energy from within to converse it as a kinetic shield, you blasted him against the cabinet and leaving small splinters of wood on the carpet.

With a grunting noise, Ben’s tentacles drew back into his body. “Alright,” he murmured reluctantly. Ben dragged his body upwards until he was leaning against the furniture for support. He offered a blood-stained smile in reverence before he wiped off the crimson evidence from his lips. “Little minx.”

A dull thud resounded when you dropped the book on the duvet. You stood up and with a quiet voice you told Ben in no uncertain terms, “Don’t ever threaten me again.”

Remembering the company of Ben’s sisters and the result of your outburst, you awkwardly glanced at them before your feet led you towards the open door.

Wordlessly, Fei turned her body to make room. Her gaze roamed over your body with fondness after your display of power. As soon as you left the room, her dry voice remarked, “I’d consider this a success.”

Tagging: @cherryinsalemverse @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman @lelaamela

[deviacon]

Rancid Rat

[pintvhorror]

When Kogan wakes up in a building haunted by a sinister entity known as "The Faerie," he must embrace an unexpected leadership role to lead the building's inhabitants to freedom before they fall under the Faerie's control. UPDATES EVERY SUNDAY @ 6pm PST! The format has been adapted for WEBTOON. To read the FULL multimedia version, visit our website-- we're several episodes ahead! www.pintvhorror.com

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

Severance is eldritch horror. Dylan meets his son, and, in the blink of an eye, he's back to his outie self and is incapable of coming back at will. Can you imagine that? All you've know your entire life is work. All you know about yourself is what your job is. Then, suddenly, you're aware that you're a father. Your son comes into a closet---your closet, with clothes you've never worn but belong to you. You bought them. You're seeing your style and preferences for the first time. Your son is so happy to see you that he wraps you in a hug. You don't know what his name is. You don't know that you have more children. You don't remember any of them being born. You only know that this boy is your son because he calls you "daddy". And then you're gone. He's gone. You wake up in your office with absolutely no way of going back.

Helly wants to leave. She learns that she's the daughter and heiress to the man/company who is keeping her trapped. Her chance of escaping rests entirely on her outies willingness to let her go. This is never going to happen. Her power rests in the hands of a woman who is her but also not her. She is enslaved to herself. All she has to do is go outside and say "I don't want this anymore" and she will be free! The moment she steps outside, she loses every desire to do that. The person she is when she's outside does not want to do that. She watches a video of herself where she tells herself "you are not [a person]". The person she was when she sat down to record it and the person she was when she watched it are somehow entirely different and entirely the same. She tries to hang herself in order to hurt the version of herself who made that video. I'd like to take a second to talk about the eldritch horror of being an outie, too. Imagine being outie Helly. Imagine walking into work and bring perfectly okay. The next thing you know, you've hung yourself and are actively suffocating. You have no way of saving yourself. Your innie self made sure of that. You are in the process of dying and you don't remember why.

Burt retires from his job. Burt, who has just started to fall in love, is ripped away from the man he loves because of... Well, himself. His outie has decided to retire, and Burt has no choice but to follow him. He is him. Except he's not. Except he is. Except he's not because the man who has decided to retire is married. In Burt's retirement video, his outie states that he's aware that someone is making his innie very happy. He knows that it's another man. That's incredibly scary? Imagine having no memory of the last eight hours but being able to feel the effects that they have on you? Imagine going into work in whatever mood, and then leaving in an elated one and having no concrete idea as to why. Imagine being faithfully married and knowing that there's a part of your day where you don't know that you're married. You have absolutely zero control over whether you cheat on your husband. You do cheat on your husband! You are not aware of his existence while you're living as your innie. You have no clue how devastated you've left the man you're cheating on your husband with. You have no clue why he's banging on your door in the middle of the night. You don't know him. Even without your memories, you can feel how happy he makes you. Your husband is holding you while he bangs on the door.

Mark saves Helly from suicide. He's forced to leave work. If Burt is anything to go by then Mark, the outie, is suddenly extremely distressed and crying while having no idea as to why. He walked into work okay and left with tears on his cheeks. Suddenly, innie mark is at a party. He sees people who he knows but has never met before. He has no idea the woman standing in front of him is his sister. He sees a photo of a woman that all the people in the outside world believe to be dead. He works with this woman. She's alive! He has the power to change the lives of the people outside. He's gone in the flick of a switch. Outie mark doesn't remember shouting "she's alive". He doesn't know why everyone is staring at him funny. He doesn't know that his wife is not dead. He doesn't know that the person he's trying so hard to forget is his co-worker.

Irving. Poor Irving. The man he loves is taken away from him. They will never see each other again. Even if they do, they will not know each other. The man he loves gets to live the rest of his life without the knowledge that he ever even met Irving. Irving has to walk into work every day and mourn the loss of a man who will never come back. This man is not dead. He's just not himself. Except he is. Except he's not. Except he kinda is dead. Without work, your innie is effectively dead. Your innie and outie are two completely different people. Irving used to follow all the rules. Who knew that the heart of a rebel is born from the broken pieces of a good man's? Irving gets a chance to find the man he loves. He finds him embracing another man. This does not deter him. He throws his weight at the door and starts banging on it.

[mawofthemagnetar]

Also available below the cut, for those who prefer to read it on Tumblr.

Keralis lined up the crossbow, closing one eye to narrow his aim. 

Joe, his back to a tree, folded his arms and tried not to move too much. The apple on his head was already wobbling crazily, and if it fell off again Keralis would win this round by default. 

“Hold still,” Keralis said, sticking his tongue out as he lined up the shot. From the slit in his back, a few tendrils the width of a finger slithered out, snapping at the air to help him focus.

He pulled the trigger-

The arrow smashed into the tree a good two inches above the apple, and Joe took the apple off his head as Keralis loaded a fresh arrow. 

“You missed.” Joe said helpfully. 

“I know I missed!” Keralis muttered, “This crossbow is all wrong.” 

There was a pause, as he reloaded and Joe put the apple back on his head. 

And Joe hummed. 

“Y’know,” He said, “Last night, I was talking to Cleo.” 

“Sweetface,” Keralis grunted, as he lined up his shot again, “That is completely redundant. Last night I had some food and went to bed. We know.” 

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Joe sighed, “But I was…I guess I was just thinking, right?” 

Keralis nodded, the crossbow bobbing up and down. 

“And? What were we sinking about, hmmm?” 

Joe hummed. 

“You ever heard that poem? The measure of a man?” 

“...No.” Keralis said, “Enlighten me?” 

And he fired. 

The arrow did not hit the apple. Instead, it smashed right into the middle of Joe’s forehead, and Joe winced and rolled his eyes up to look at it, sighing mightily. 

“You missed.” 

“I get three shots!” Keralis protested. 

“Keralis, I’m on half a heart. I thought we said no enchanted crossbows.” 

“It’s not! It- oh, maybe it is. Who enchanted this?” Keralis scowled, “I didn’t want an enchanted crossbow! I’m sorry, Joe.” 

He stomped over to the nearby chest, dropping it in, and pulling out a fresh one. He examined it and, after an approving nod from Joe, he strolled back to the firing line and loaded another arrow. 

“Anyway. You were saying? The measure of a man?” Keralis asked, as the arrow clicked into place. 

“Yeah, the measure of a man. It’s a poem I read a long time ago. Don’t know who it’s by. It’s sort of…you know, how do we measure what a good man is? And, like, obviously that’s incredibly reductive, because not everyone’s a ‘man’, but-” 

Keralis lowered the crossbow. 

“But?”

“But let’s say ‘man’ in the, like, the poetic sense. Right?”

Keralis shrugged.

“Joe, neither of us is “a man” in any sense.” He said, “I’m not even human, you’re…you… So are you sure we have a say in this?” 

Joe shrugged. 

“It’s worth the discussion. And besides, if we redefine ‘man’ to be a poemy ‘person’, then…whatever. Anyway, take your shot. I want to have my turn.” Joe gestured, and Keralis shrugged. 

He lined up again, and fired. 

This arrow hit Joe in the neck, and he burst into code, instantly respawning in the bed beside the tree. 

<Joehillssays was slain by Keralis1 with William Tell 2> 

“You were saying?” Keralis said, handing Joe the crossbow and walking over to the tree, picking up the apple and putting it on his head. 

“I was saying, right. So we’ll go with “man” in the poetic sense, to refer to a person. Right? So, in the poem, you can’t measure a man by his treasure or his creed. You measure by what he gives and how he helps those in need. But…I feel it’s missing something.” 

Joe loaded the crossbow with an arrow, and approached the firing line. 

Keralis snorted. 

“So what? You sink we find a way to measure a man? They invented that, Joe. A metre stick and a scale.” 

Joe snorted. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re very clever.”

“Spank you, sweetface!” 

“And not even slightly smug.” 

Keralis giggled, and Joe rolled his eyes fondly.

“Anyway. I more meant, you know. Character?” 

Joe lined up his shot, and fired. 

Keralis grunted as the arrow struck him in the stomach, and foul ichor started to leak from the wound. He sighed, everting a thin black tendril from his slit, and wrapped it around the arrow, ripping it out with a gush of more foul…stuff. The tendril snapped the arrow in half, and tossed it away with an errant flick. The wound continued to bleed, and Keralis frowned. 

“You missed. Five hearts.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. Thoughts?” 

Keralis hummed as Joe loaded another arrow.

“I sink a man is a man by what he does,” Keralis hummed, “A man is a man because he says he will do a thing, and then he goes and does it.” 

“But that can’t be it, either,” Joe said, as the arrow clicked into place, “Because, like. A guy can say, ‘oh I’m gonna go run a world eater over the spawn village’ and go do it, and then, well, then he’s a terrible person.” 

Keralis nodded. 

“So maybe not deeds? But with that example, how can it not be deeds? Doesn’t a man doing a bad thing tell you a lot about him, too?” 

Joe fired, and this arrow struck Keralis in the shoulder, prompting another gush of black ichor and a hiss of pain. 

“One heart. And you missed.” Keralis muttered, the apple wobbling crazily on his head. 

“Sorry.” Joe said, as Keralis again pulled the arrow out and snapped it. 

“Don’t apologize. It’s the game.” Keralis shrugged. 

Joe shrugged, and loaded another arrow, letting it click into place. 

“So we can, to a point, measure a man by his deeds.” Joe said, “Because… like, you can also force people to do bad things. So to a point. But thoughts lead to words lead to deeds. Right? But that’s not everything. We’re missing part of it.” 

“Sure?” Keralis shrugged, as Joe lined up another shot. 

“I dunno. Thoughts?”

“Well. Thoughts, I suppose?” Keralis offered, still leaking toxic black goo on the ground from his wounds, “If a man says he will do a thing and does another. If he goes and tells lies, then he’s not a good man. So we can judge him by his truths too?” 

“Yeah, but…hang on. Hold that thought.” 

Joe fired again, and this arrow hit Keralis square in the eye, prompting a hiss of pain and an instant respawn. 

<Keralis1 was slain by Joehillssays with William Tell 2> 

The apple fell straight down, bouncing off the grass and rolling away, and Joe sighed. 

Keralis walked over to him, making grabby hands, and Joe handed the crossbow over and picked up the apple, putting it on his head. 

“We can’t measure a man on his thoughts,” Joe said, “‘Cause, like, I don’t know about you, but I get CRAZY intrusive thoughts, all the damn time-” 

Keralis stopped loading his crossbow and nodded frantically.

“Yeah! Yeah yeah yeah. Like, if you measured me on the thoughts that pop into my head, I’d be such a bad person. I want to eat people’s faces sometimes! But I never do. Even if they look tasty, I never would. Because…that’s…evil?” Keralis said, loading the arrow with a click.

“Yeah, or like, you’re on top of a high build with Doc and the voice in your head just blurts out “push him off” and you’re like, hey, where did that come from?” Joe said, as Keralis lined his shot up.

“So not thoughts,” Keralis said, aiming carefully, “And deeds, maybe. But… I dunno, Joe. I was always a bad philosopher.” 

“Yeah, well, we all are, in the end.” Joe said, as Keralis fired. 

The arrow slammed into Joe’s heart, and he grunted, taking seven hearts of damage in an instant. Keralis winced. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Joe grunted, as a gush of red blood poured out of the wound, “I agreed to this.” 

Keralis frowned, and lowered the crossbow. Behind the tree, he could see other Hermit’s builds, and more importantly, Jevin scurrying around doing…something. He was being chased by Cub, so clearly it was important.

Keralis’ frown deepened, and he gestured between himself and Joe.

“You agreed. I agreed. But I don’t think anyone else agreed. Do you wanna-?” 

“Put up a wall? Yeah, I was just thinking that,” Joe said, chugging a health potion and then rummaging in his inventory for a few stacks of blocks. 

A few minutes of fussing later (In which Joe attempted to build a plain cobblestone wall, Keralis had an apoplectic fit, and redecorated it into a clean white modern wall with delicate minimalist wall-lamps and soft banners) they had a barrier put up behind the tree, and Joe took his place against it. 

He put the apple back on his head, and folded his arms.

“See, now, THAT,” Joe said, “You agreed, and I agreed, and we’re doing this. But, like, Jevin didn’t. So-” 

“Can’t have Jevin get hit. He’s not playing William Tell,” Keralis agreed, loading another arrow. 

“So what does that mean, for our measure of a man?” Joe hummed, as Keralis lined up another shot. 

“It means…we care? I guess?” Keralis said, lining up some more, “I am not good at this, Joe.”

“Well, I guess. But like…Hmm.” 

Keralis fired, and the arrow slammed into Joe’s shoulder, prompting a hiss of pain. 

“Eight hearts left,” Joe gasped, and Keralis nodded. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” 

Joe hummed, as Keralis loaded up the crossbow with another click. 

“I sink,” Keralis said, “that the measure of a man is how he treats others.” 

Joe nodded, and the apple wobbled crazily.

“See, now we’re on to something. You can only measure a man by the actions you can see. The world in someone’s head is, y’know, completely invisible to you. But like…” 

“But what a man does, is what he thinks for himself,” Keralis said, “So when I think, “I should eat a face”, but then I DON’T, it’s because I know I never will and I shouldn’t.” 

“Exactly. And you do that, because…” 

“Because I care,” Keralis said, “I do it because I don’t wanna hurt people. Besides, uh…” 

Joe burst out laughing, hard enough to knock the crossbow bolt loose. A splash of blood hit the ground along with it, and he giggled a bit more.. 

“Keralis, once again, we both agreed to this. Besides, this minigame needed testing.” 

“So do the philosophy debates come free with the game?” Keralis asked, and Joe laughed again. 

“William Tell’s Philosophy Class. Yeah, I think it does.” Joe snickered, and Keralis lined up again. 

Keralis closed his eye and stuck his tongue out, lining up his shot on the apple with care.

“So I think, to sum up,” Joe said, “You look to deeds to inform knowledge of thoughts. And you look to see how a man treats every person he meets, to see what lurks in the depths of his heart. And that, I guess, is how you take the measure of a man?” 

Keralis fired. 

The arrow flew, perfectly straight, and smashed clean into the apple. It split in half, each piece hitting the grass on either side of Joe, and the arrow embedded itself an inch deep into the tree. 

“Bullseye!” Keralis cheered.

[peachsequence]

👁‍ Eldritch Horror Prompts 👁‍

Random Prompts

The shadows twisted and writhed with a life of their own.

Whispers came from the corners of the room, speaking in an ancient tongue.

A sense of dread seeped into my bones, creeping up from the darkness below.

The walls seemed to pulse and breathe, as if the building is alive.

In the distance, a distorted figure danced with impossible grace.

The sky was a swirling mass of colors.

A faint, otherworldly hum filled the air, growing louder.

The ground beneath my feet collapsed as I fell into the void.

Sentence Starters

“Do you hear that? The whispers—they’re calling my name.”

“There’s something in the darkness, watching us.”

“The shadows... they move when you're not looking.”

“I’ve seen things that defy all logic and reason.”

“We were never meant to find this place. It’s waking up.”

“Wait, shut up and listen. Do you hear chanting?”

“Every step we take, it feels like we’re being pulled deeper into its grasp.”

“Don’t look directly at it. It sees you when you look.”

“The stars... they’re shifting?”

“I can feel it in my mind, scratching at my brain."

“We need to leave this place before it consumes us.”

“The ground beneath us... it’s breathing.”

Vibes

Portraits with melted faces

A library that smells like old books

Messy notebooks filled with strange symbols

Insomnia-filled nights

Cracked mirrors reflecting otherworldly scenes

Echoes of distant, haunting chants

Shadows that slither and crawl

Forests where the trees seem to whisper

Abandoned ruins covered in cryptic runes

Late night conversations that ramble into conspiracies

Twisted hallways leading to illogical locations

Ancient tomes bound in unknown skins

Walls that seem to breathe and pulse

Clocks that tick backwards

Murmurs from beneath the floorboards

Strange lights flickering in the fog

Seas of black water under a starless sky

Marble sculptures that shift when unobserved

Something deep in the ocean, waiting patiently