#eldritch boring bastard

[kcstudentblog]

[the-wizards-fandom-pop-up]

Lord in Black Headcannons because why not?

- Biggest headcannon for all of the really is that, they don’t like being bored. On a scale of who gets bored the fastest it would probably be between Blinky or Tinky.

- Pokey and Tinky actively HATE each other, more so just because their personalities are so far from each other that I imagine them bickering. Both of them have fought each other before and Wiggly had to be the one to get them to knock it off putting them in “time out”

- Nibbly’s “Yum Yum” saying is sort of a vocal stim.

- Pokey is a huge hypocrite and actively denies that he’s a hypocrite. He often chastises Tinky for having his little Ted’s in his bastard box and how he could be sooo enthralled with his "little toy.” And then turn around and gush about Paul.

- Blinky sometimes acts as Nibbly’s eyes and describes stuff for his brother if he asks. :D Even when watching some time line together Blinky will describe what’s going on for Nibbly.

- [This is headcannon that I thought of for a while] Blinky eats like a waddle Dee. Technically they don’t need to eat but, they find the sensation of eating interesting. But, Blinky doesn’t have a visible mouth unless they’re in human form. Blinky eating:

- Wiggly shifts between, “God I want to strangle all of you leave me alone” to being a big brother figure depending on his mood. Like he would immediately snap at his brothers to get in line when he’s making a deal to get them to shut up when he’s talking but, will also comfort Blinky and curse Bill and his kid for harming his little wittle brother’s eye.

- Tinky sometimes burst into fit of laughter at the random times. Sometimes he just feels the urge to giggle even at the most inconvenient of times.

- The dolls of the lords in black can be used as an extension of themselves. The dolls themselves have strange properties of their own making them unnerving, like sometimes the Blinky plushie out of the corner of your eye you could swear that thing just blinked. Or hearing faint music coming from the Pokey plush when you walk by it.

- Wiggly is a chonky eldritch horror. Heccin chonker. Let him be a lil fat

[slashingdisneypasta]

Slenderman x Maid!Reader || Drabble

Plot: After Slender has been, well, himself; and frustrated the hell out of you one-too-many times in a day so you storm out of the mansion for a walk to clear your head. He comes after you asking where the hell his servant is going-

Just in time to find the bear staring you right in the face.

//

Or, everyone is annoyed. Including the bear.

(Inspired by videos of animals CLEARLY SEEING something demonic that we cant see.)

Same universe as This fic and This fic.

Warnings: A little bit of Slender being an ass, high-stress situation, Slender being unhelpful and then scaring/hurting a bear (Just making the static noise so the bears ears hurt), mind reading, Slender in a dissociative hunting state, etc.

Tagging: @microwavemadness , @miss-understood , and @yesthetrashbin .

NO BEARS WERE HURT IN THE MAKING OF THIS FIC. WE DO NOT SUPPORT HURTING BEARS HERE.

You storm out of the there as fast your legs will take you without actually running, slamming the door as hard as you can behind you. Maybe he owns you, maybe he's your 'boss', maybe you have to do what he says for the rest of your life- but if you leave without asking, then the bastard cant tell you no.

After walking at the same powerful pace fueled by the raging frustration roaring inside you for a good 7 seconds, just breeching the wall of trees that surround the clearing that the spooky old mansion exists in, you freeze in your tracks violently fast; eyes wide as dinner plates and suddenly wishing you'd stayed inside and put up with your ass of a master.

Because there's a bear. A fucking bear. Its the size of 3 men, its staring right at you, you're stuck staring directly into the terrifying creature's black eyes (The worst thing you could possibly do in this situation), and it looks i r r i t a t e d.

You must have startled it when you stormed into the tree line.

S h i t.

~

When Slender looks for you after you left his office a few moments later, searching for your very annoyed little form (So much anger for one so small) in his mansion, blinking from one room to another until he's checked everywhere- he cant find you. And that ignites a flicker of frustration in himself. Where the hell have you gone, now?? He needs his servant. He loves his peace and quiet, absolutely, but annoying you is a favourite pass time. You're almost as high-strung as he is, after all. And with everyone else gone from this place currently (His brothers, the pasta's, his other proxies), he has all the time in the world to enjoy the quiet. For now he's bored, and he wants to speak to you about your lacklustre method of organising the linen cabinet; just make your life a little hard.

So where the fuck, did you go?

Static fizzing in the air around him, he turns his search onto the woods. He appears right at the edge of the tree line, and immediately finds you in your predicament.

"... ah." Well thats not an ideal circumstance for little Y/N, is it?

As soon as you sense his presence a few feet behind you and hear his voice, you feel all your fear boil over and you want to run behind him. But you don't- you stay still. Slowly, you take a deep breath. You speak while moving your mouth as little as possible, especially when the bear grunts and roars. It seems to hate your voice, but is unbothered by Slender's. Like he's not even there. "... Slender, help me."

Slender does intend to help, truly. He cant be losing his servant. He will not allow a thing, to happen to you. ... But that doesn't mean he cant use this. A glimmer of amusement tickles at the old eldritch monsters cold, ancient heart at the terrible situation.

He was only looking to mess with you a bit, before... but this infinitely better.

"Why should I? You stormed out like a child- this simply appears to be karma, to me."

Oh for FUCKS SAKE- You want to whip around and glare at him, or kick everything on the forest floor at him, but moving might mean getting mauled by a bear right now so you're forced to stay still.

"... please, Slender." You grit your teeth together. Even when the bear grunts again, and stomps a paw down into the dirt. "I'm sorry."

Slender takes the tone of a teacher, as if this is some mental 'teaching moment'. Pretending to be sensible even though he's LITERALLY crazy- He drives you nuts. "Now, that doesn't sound very sincere Y/N. You can do better the that." Stupid, evil, obnoxious, insane creature- "Thats definitely not going to do it."

"I shouldn't- " When the bear lands both front paws down on the ground, prepared to lunge at you and take bite right out of your neck you flinch. Start again. "I shouldn't have y- yelled at you... left the mansion... I'm sorry. Okay???" The bear must hear the panic in your tone, or maybe smells the fear all around you, because it gives a few huffs, and paws dangerously at the ground. Bares its teeth at you.

"Hmm... you know Y/N, I think the bear can tell you're afraid of her. What do you think?"

Suddenly the bear jumps up onto its hind legs, roars and slams back down on the ground, coming forward towards your soft, weak little body, and you squeeze your eyes closed against the terror. "Slender please!- "

When you aren't torn apart by claws or teeth for a few moments, and the roar turns abruptly into a whimper and then heavy breathing- you force yourself to crack an eye open just in time to see the bear backing off again; retreating. You look up with both eyes open to see Slender, grossly tall and with his tentacles floating in the air threateningly around you both, directly behind you now- hanging over you, and although your ears and your head are clogged up with horrible grilling static, you've never been so glad to have him with you; The very visage of a creepy marionette doll or otherwise. Lowering your gaze back to the bear, which looks terrified all of a sudden at the creature behind you and rubbing its poor ears at the sound- you immediately feel awful.

"Slender." You say, cautioning. "Slender, stop."

He doesn't respond, focus trained entirely on the bear.

"Slender."

With a thud of your heart dropping in your chest, you realise this must be what he looks like when he's not at home, seeming almost human with a supernatural ability to annoy you; when he's hunting. And immediately your stomach turns over.

Turning around in place, you grip his old worn suit and tug at it. "Slender!! Stop now! You're finished, the bear will leave!" You make your voice as hard and bossy as you can muster it, trying to cut through whatever horrible old monster instincts are over-riding Slender's personality right now.

When you finally get through to him, yanking his jacket so ferociously that you actually budge him (Not by much; but enough to get his attention), the static cuts off like a switch. He lowers his faceless head to see you down below him, and it takes a little staring, but he comes back to himself. He rolls his shoulders, and you release a relieved breath.

"... you don't want me to kill the bear?" He asks, softly. Almost disbelieving. As if he didn't know that about you; like he was someone else for a minute there.

"No!"

.... With a tone just like an eyeroll, back to himself, Slender straightens up again. You let go of him. "Of course not."

Slender gives the bear a final Look, and the bear turns tail and retreats fully into the trees. You cant see her only hear her- then you cant hear her anymore, either. Gone.

After a few moments Slender turns his head to you again. "... So. Are we going back inside or are we going to stand out here like lemmings for the rest of the day?"

With that he turns immediately, disappears, and then reappears on the porch by the front door; waiting for you. Pretending like none of what just happened actually happened even though you're still in shock and confused. What the hell was that?? Did he just fly into a dissociative state? Are his instincts to protect you???

... is that because you're his proxy, or because you've been having sex? That might be the most important question. What does this mea-

"-What are you waiting for? I have some notes on your ability to put linen away appropriately. Come."

You squint at him; stare into that blank white face waiting for you. Is he listening to you think and distracting you or is he really just that indifferent??

... you cant tell. No surprise.

"I'm coming," You sigh, trudging back towards the mansion. You can think more about this later, maybe. Maybe not. You probably should, but... "but I don't want your notes- "

"Oh you're getting them. Now, about your folding technique- "

But that would mean facing which you want it to mean.

[zofi-persson-quotes]

Dark is talking to the Mercs

Dark: one of the differences between Second and Cho is the way they threaten people

Primal: oh? Why tell

Dark: Cho, even if he seems calm, will threaten violence upon a person, and if the threat doesn't work, he will start swinging

Dark: whereas Sec will, in a creepily calm manner, threaten to sic both their family and the eldritch beings he calls his best friends on whoever he's threatening and if that, somehow, doesn't work, he will start swinging while the poor bastard will experience the feeling of multiple eyes boring down on them

Sec, entering the room: talking from experience, are we?

Dark, getting promptly jumpscared: FUCKING- YOU FUCK-

[voidsentprinces]

Poison frog toxic red flag murder dragon, I never play or write about?

Hey. Hey hey tell me about them. Theyre cute as fuck I wanna know more about em.

DO NOT CUTE THE POISON FROG TOXIC RED FLAG MURDER DRAGON!

Ladies, Gentlemen, and the Eldritch Beings Beyond the Mortal Comprehension of Mankind:

Meet Envy, full title: Invidia Leviathan Tepes, Prince of Envy (for redundancy)

Amongst all the Gods, Demons, and Villains I have ever created, he is the A B S O L U T E W O R S T. I am not even going to list it. Think of something bad. He's done it. He is against the Geneva Accords. Everything from minor infractions like shop lifting to being one of the reasons THERE ARE NO LONGER ANY GODS BEYOND DEATH NOW (in writing lore that is).

He is the only Voidsent Prince who is actually the Original Sin incarnate. He is selfish to extreme, is murder happy, will use, abuse, and toss away anyone and anything he wants. Literally believes the world revolves around him and anything to the contrary needs to be IMPALED WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE!

You were born.

Congrats.

You were born to worship and serve him. If you are not doing any of those two things. You deserve to die or be tortured for doing either of those two things too little, too much, or even perfectly fine but he's bored of you now, DIE NOW AND SAVE HIM THE INCONVIENCE OF KILLING YOU, THANKS!

He enters the story coiled around the heart of a Goddess who consuming her divinity himself. While driving her completely mad with jealousy which leads to the First Twilight of the Gods. Because the First God got bored one day, I shit you not. Due to taking the divinity of a deity for himself. He grows from a small snake into The Leviathan. His second act after being torn out of said Goddess's chest by her sister is to bite the hand of the Goddess of Light and tumble down from the heavens onto the mortal plane. Where he spends the rest of his time strangling the world with the length of his body and killing anything that thinks to sail on his seas. When he is eventually drop kicked into Hell. He is then forced by Death to go from a primordeal draconic being who is the length of the seven seas and two oceans to a humanoid you see before you. Leaving his tail behind to envy what he once was. Despite the downsizing, aforementioned, its done nothing to curb his ego and he has decided being punished like this is NOW EVERYONES PROBLEM!

Actively hates living things and use to cause earthquakes and tsunamis on a whim to wipe out anyone who settled too close to the oceans he thought he fucking owned.

Does he take a moment to reflect that maybe doing any of this will make people hate him in the short term and try and hunt him down in the long term? HAHAHA!

NO!

Aforementioned, ya not serving his whims or if you bore him, he do not give a fuck about repercussions. He's the edgy dude who never grew out of the edge phase is just 2 cool for school. If that guy got his hands on the strength and power to force people under his heel. Actively is immortally youthful, strong enough to fight off entire armies, the ability to generate water and cause earthquakes at a whim. Gilgamesh before he met Enkidu, but if meeting Enkidu made him even worse and he learned nothing of humility and shrugged off Enkidu's death.

I don't write him cause he is just...a walking trigger warning and that makes me uncomfortable. I would change him, but like...the cast NEEDS like that one (1) absolute bastard character. Irredeemable, unbashedly terrible on every level, is the reason people probably started to write down war crimes and formed rules around: Maybe we shouldn't do these bad things during combat actually...lets set up rules.

Not that he'd follow them. You kidding? Telling HIM what to do? The gall!

Anyway, here have his theme while you're here:

[beyond-the-rabbit-hole]

Important Stuff

Hi, this is Bugsy, I run @violetcottontail, and this is the official sideblog, which is funny because that blog is also a sideblog. You will never locate my main muahahaha!

It's @catarimint, I'm just being silly.

Anyway, this blog is where writing drabbles and other stuff will be posted. If it's canon, it will be tagged as such. All of the writing drabbles will be focused around the current and future cast of that blog.

Update: Additional mod!

Hi! This is @killamortis. You can follow my blog but I don’t run the blog the blog runs me (there is no blog).

Update 2: Third mod!

Hello! This is @princessragdoll, but you can call me Daggers (or Eldritch but only Bugsy calls me that lol) I also run the blog @bunnyclawsllc which is by some miracle canon to the Bugsyverse and features my characters Fembit and Evelyn. Please enjoy!

Posts written by Bugsy will be tagged #bugsy drabble or #bugsy speakin

Posts written by Killa will be tagged #killa drabble or #killa speakin

Posts written by Daggers will be tagged #daggers drabble or #daggers speakin

Good news: We take requests! If you want to hear about which Habit has the biggest god complex, or which one would chill with you on a rainy day, go ahead and ask about it! We'll write it :D

Rules for requests:

Don't be an ass. Being an ass is defined as: Harassing other people over requests, harassing us over our writing, doing that twitter shit where apparently if we write bad things it means we support them??? We don't support cannibalism but we'll write it, so chill.

Don't come at us for being ooc. Look man, Bugsy made like- 12 different Habits from DIFFERENT ITERATIONS. They're not gonna be perfect to canon because... THEY'RE NOT CANON LOL

YES. WE KNOW CANON HABIT IS NOT DOWN TO BONE. THESE ARE NOT THE CANON HABITS. We're just silly little tumblr users, don't like something? Block us bro, we will not be offended, and you will not have to see our stuff.

IF SOMETHING IS LABELED "DEAD DOVE, DON'T EAT", IT MEANS WHATEVER IS LISTED AT THE TOP IS INCLUDED IN THE DRABBLE. If you don't want to read a certain topic, PLEASE check what we've labelled the fic with at the top. We'll do our best to write any possible trigger warnings, if we miss any, let us know nicely please!

WE DO NOT CONDONE HARASSMENT OF THE REAL ACTORS FROM EVERYMANHYBRID. None of what we write is directed at the real people behind EverymanHYBRID. We are writing for THE CHARACTERS. NOT. THE. REAL. PEOPLE. Seriously, do not be weird about this, we're just writing for fun here.

Current cast list and Allowed Requests:

Loathesome and Evan - The main pair on the blog (All requests allowed)

(Renamed!) Ersatz - A fucked up man out for revenge (All requests allowed)

Centralia - A little arsonist (No 18+ requests)

Stephbit - Miss Big Dick Energy (All requests allowed)

Fairmount - Local stalker and artist (All requests allowed)

Northstar - The father figure (All requests allowed)

McHabit and McEvan - Local depressed cashier and clown bitch (All requests allowed)

Evbit - Buzzfeed Unsolved but with real murder (All requests allowed)

Deepbit - The only Habit who can swim (All requests allowed)

Jeffbit - Not a fan of barbeque (All requests allowed)

Boardbit - When he's bored, he plays board games (All requests allowed)

Showbit - Loves himself a little too much (All requests allowed)

Evan Corenthal - Therapy ain't cheap, but Habit's get it free (All requests allowed)

Evan Gallows - He's a rockstar, but a Gwar type star (All requests allowed)

Stygian - The depths of space have no mercy (All requests allowed)

Voyeurbit - Local bastard gets inHabited (All requests allowed)

Octantis - The Southern Star (All requests allowed)

Alternaria - It's not his fault you can't breathe... Or is it? (All requests allowed)

Marburg - It's not her time of the month, but she's all red (All requests allowed)

The Doctor - The bringer of all daddy issues (All requests allowed)

(New!) Jessie Corenthal - The last black box warrior (All requests allowed)

(New!) Aster - A star set to supernova (All requests allowed)

(New!) Signalman - The cheeriest bringer of death (All requests allowed)

Shellshock - PTSD, but make it sassy (All requests allowed)

Starlet - Vinnie better watch out, a star is in town (All requests allowed)

Bittybit - A hamster sized being of pure rage (All requests allowed, but keep in mind he's TINY)

Fembit - The queen of all girlbosses (All requests allowed)

Evelyn - Peak gen Z energy, full of caffeine and trauma (All requests allowed)

Grimmwolf - Fairytale villain turned confused old man (All requests allowed)

[cookinguptales]

Regarding new media to get into: *deep breath* Okay so let me make my pitch for why should listen to the podcast Malevolent. If this is the first you've heard of it, it's a Lovecraftian horror mystery series about a private investigator named Arthur who gets partially possessed by an eldritch entity who takes over his eyes. It very cleverly solves the podcast dilemma of how to narrate surroundings in an audio format naturally, because the entity has to describe everything to Arthur. They have to work together to try to figure out what happened to them, and encounter spooky things along the way. The writing, voice acting, and sound design are some of the best I've ever experienced in an audio play, and it is all done by one extremely talented creator.

I think you will like it because Arthur and the Entity start off as adversaries but then become wildly codependent and Not Normal about each other. You've heard of enemies-to-lovers, get ready for enemies-to-allies-to-enemies-to-friends-to-ememies-to-secret-third-thing-(married bastards). Though the nature of their relationship is up to interpretation (queer platonic or romantic are both valid readings) their love for one another is canonical and the crux of the show.

As a warning, the series dives deeply into themes of grief (specifically child death) and how to survive and find peace after traumas. It is handled with grace and care, but can often be heavy. I suggest you check out the content warnings, to be safe.

If any of this is interesting to you, I hope you check it out. Selfishly, I'd love for you to join this tiny corner of the internet, largely because I have always admired your storytelling. Thanks!

Huh. You know, it's not the first time I've heard about this show. One of my SNM friends is also wildly into it, lmao.

I've avoided listening to it thus far because... well, being real with you, I've never actually enjoyed anything described as "Lovecraftian" up to and including Lovecraft. (Oops.) Something about cosmic horror just... kind of bores me, if I'm being honest. I think... small things in horror might interest me more than big things, maybe?

That said, I do like codependent relationships and horror mysteries, and it looks like the site does have transcripts. (I'm kind of hard of hearing, haha.) I can't make any guarantees because, again, it's not a kind of monster I'm usually into, but next time I cross-stitch I'll give it a try. Maybe I'll like it.

(Also thank you, that's really sweet. ;;)

[autisticsupervillain]

It's Fictional Throwdown Friday: Movie Night!

A side version of FTF that's hosted and presented much like Death Battle, where two characters I like give an overview of the combatants and I provide you with a fully written fight scene.

This Week's Fighters...

The Distortion vs SCP-106

As Presented By:

Wiz and Boomstick!

Rules and Conditions:

No Restrictions

Introduction:

Boomstick: Michael Shelley, the archival assistant of The Magnus Archives who turned into the monsterous Avatar of the Spiral known as the Distortion.

Wiz: And Dr. Robert Scranton, the once brilliant scientist of the SCP Foundation who became one of the very same monsters he helped to contain, SCP-106.

Wiz: There are countless organizations in fiction dedicated to studying, containing, and archiving the supernatural. But in this profession, one must always be careful to not become the very thing you research.

Boomstick: Like these two former humans. Once dorky researchers who, after a quick trip to a hellish pocket reality, became some of the nastiest nightmares their institutes would have encounter.

Boomstick: He's Wiz and I'm Boomstick!

Wiz: And we'll be analyzing their weapons, powers, and skills to find out who would win... A Death Battle!

Analysis: "Michael"

Wiz: Fear. One of the main motivators of the human mind. It's the emotion that keeps us safe, contextualizes the dangerous world around us-

Boomstick: And, sometimes helps us to feed the Eldritch fear gods that govern our reality!

Wiz: Such is the case in the world of The Magnus Archives. In a world where all our fears literally come to life and the supernatural is provably real and dangerous, it would make sense for there to be an institute dedicated to cataloging and studying it. Such is the goal of the Magnus Institute, which Archives people's encounters with the supernatural in order to better understand the phenomenon. You go to the Institute, let the Head Archivist record your statement... and then that's it. You go home.

Boomstick: Boring. For one Head Archivist in particular, studying the supernatural and listening to people's problems all day wasn't enough. She had to make these bastards pay for every broken sob story that came to her. The myth, the legend, the Archivist, Gertrude Robinson.

Wiz: That might sound like the name of someone's eighty year old grandmother, but in the supernatural community, Gertrude Robinson was a bogeyman's nightmare. She's saved the world countless times, personally killed all manner of superhuman monsters, and has resisted the pull of several gods of fear trying to claim her soul.

Boomstick: She's like if John Wick and Doomguy fused into an angry librarian. The god of fire and pain killed her cat and she's never stopped making the supernatural community pay for it. This is the woman who, when confronted by a man made of candle wax, fire, and human misery that wanted to burn her alive, did something so indescribably awful to him that it terrified all of his cultist buddies. No wonder the entire supernatural community was terrified of her. No one who touches Mr. Whiskers shall live.

Wiz: And then there was her assistant, Michael Shelley. Joining up with the Magnus Institute to investigate the disappearance of his childhood friend Ryan, Michael was deliberately kept in the dark about the Institute's inner workings by both his fellow assistants and Gertrude herself. This resulted in a naive, timid assistant whom Gertrude could freely use as a disposable pawn.

Boomstick: Case in point, when Gertrude caught wind of yet another ritual to end the world, she took Michael with her to Sannikov Land for "protection". Sannikov Land, for reference, does not exist. They were there. They walked around on the island. But it doesn't exist. Don't.... don't question it. Things are gonna get real mindfucky real quick.

Wiz: At the place that doesn't exist, they found the ritual being conducted by The Distortion. An eldritch being as old as time itself that is both a massive pocket reality and the physical embodiment of delusion. The Throat of Delusion Incarnate, as its called, was attempting to summon its master, The Spiral, into reality, to conquer the world and condemn mankind to an eternity of madness. So, Gertrude interrupted the ritual... by tricking Michael into feeding himself to The Distortion.

Boomstick: That's cold, Wiz. Now with a bad case on indigestion, the ritual fell apart and the Distortion fell in on itself. Once Michael found the center of The Distortion, everything fell apart, and the thing that emerged from the remains wasn't like either of them. It wasn't Michael Shelley or The Distortion. Not really. It was just... Michael.

Wiz: Michael emerged as an Avatar of The Spiral. Let me explain. Avatars are physical beings, be they animal or human, who have been touched and permanently altered by one of the Fourteen Fears that rule over reality. Basically, there's Fourteen different Fear gods who each embodie a specific school of fear. These fears manifest in all sentient things, both humans and animals, and new Fears can manifest as more things become feared. The End is the Fear of Death, for example, and the Eye is the Fear of being watched.

Boomstick: Me personally, I've always leaned towards The Slaughter. It appreciates my directness with guns and explosives.

Wiz: The fear of war and random violence? Please. An intelligent man like myself much prefers the patronage of The Web. The fear of manipulation, loss of control, and centuries old plans. The ideal ally for any aspiring supervillain out for world domination.

Boomstick: Ugh. Spiders? Really? I would've at least assumed the Eye given your browser history.

Wiz: Hey, I'm a scientist, not a voyeur!

*The screen behind them crackles and Jocelyn appears on it.*

Jocelyn: Desolation all the way!

Boomstick: Ugh. Should've guessed she'd go for the arsonist edgelords....

Wiz: Anyways! The Spiral in particular is the Fear of madness, delusion, gaslighting, and paranoia. In order to survive, the thing now calling itself Michael had to spread and feed on this fear in its victims. This the curse of being an Avatar.

Boomstick: "Thing" is the right description for it. He's freakishly tall now at over six feet. All the bones in his body got relocated into his hands! And that laughter gives me a headache...

Wiz: Yeah, the Michael "body" isn't so much a physical thing as it is a.... concept. That's why it can reach right through a person's shoulder and pull out a worm an inch thick with surgical precision, without even breaking the skin. Michael doesn't even think of itself as a person, it's just a.... "hand" to something much, much bigger.

Boomstick: That "something bigger" would be its stomach, if you would. The pocket reality that used to be the Distortion's only body can be accessed with a door that Michael manifests. The door is the mouth and the corridors behind it are the stomach.

Wiz: And you're not getting out of there once you're in there. The corridors are a literally endless, illogical maze of twisting hallways and rooms. Corridors that spiral in on right turns forever and mirrors the break to reveal more hallways. It's a giant intestinal track that drives you further into madness the longer you're in it that the Distortion itself can reshape and manipulate freely. And if you're in there for too long.

Boomstick: Poof! All gone! Completely digested like you never even existed. The only way you're leaving alive is if Michael lets you out.

Wiz: And if you thought you were safe just by avoiding the door, think again.

Boomstick: Those freaky fingers of his can turn into razor sharp claws in an instant and Michael can fuck with your sense of reality. Causing hallucinations, inducing insomnia, and making you think that you don't even exist! If you don't go through the door yourself in all the chaos, Michael will drag you in kicking and screaming!

Wiz: Even with his penchant for gaslighting and manipulation, Michael is one of the most powerful Avatars out there. The Distortion is capable of easily killing Jonathan Sims even as late as Season 4, at which point he's capable of completely erasing people from existence.

Boomstick: Feats performed by Helen-Distortion and Michael-Distortion should carry over to each other. They have the exact same powers and... are, kinda, the same thing. But we'll get to that.

Wiz: The Distortion is capable of entraping, and likely digesting, Manuela Dominguez, a powerful Avatar of the Dark. Dark Avatars of a similar caliber, such as the Still and Lightless Beast and Maxwell Rayner, are shown to be capable of killing Avatars of the Hunt.

Boomstick: And those guys hunt their fellow Avatars for fun all the time. So killing one of them, nevermind ripping one apart like these guys can, is a big deal.

Wiz: We've got a bit of a scaling chain here, so buckle in. Avatars of the Hunt are described as being one of the few beings capable of threatening and killing an Avatar of the End. This would make them stronger than Avatars of the Desolation, who csn completely reduce human beings to nothing but charred skeletons.

Boomstick: That takes exactly 60,187 grams of TNT to do! That's why I carry exactly 60,187 grams of TNT on my person at all times. Just. In. Case.

Source:

Wiz: And The Distortion is several times more powerful than than that. Basically, Desolation Avatars can output that much energy, Hunt Avatars are stronger than them, Maxwell Rayner's group can rip them apart with ease, and The Distortion can digest them with ease. That's a hell of a scaling chain back him.

Boomstick: And that's with the superhuman speed Avatars already have. Like Oliver Banks, who can react to a satellite falling at 200 mph. That's 89.408 meters per second! And that's before Oliver was even a full Avatar yet. Imagine what the Distortion could do!

Wiz: Yet, for all the Distortion's incomprehensible power, it was still shackled to the identity of Michael, whose human emotions conflicted with his status as an eldritch horror.

Boomstick: Michael really wanted revenge on Gertrude for killing him, but she was a bit too... dead, for that. So he went after the current Head Archivist instead, Jonathan Sims.

Wiz: But, Michael also wanted Jon to know exactly why he was being killed, which conflicted with his new nature as a creature of madness and fear. So the Distortion rectified the contradiction by deleting Michael abd replacing him with one of its victims, Helen Richardson, as the human part of its personality. Making Michael completely disposable to both the people he's "worked" for.

Boomstick: And the worst part is that Michael didn't even have to in the first place. The Distortion's ritual wouldn't have worked even without feeding Michael to it, because the Fears are all interconnected to the point that they can't enter reality without bringing the rest with them. Making both of Michael's deaths utterly pointless.

Wiz: Poor disposable Michael. Both his lives and both his deaths were cruel jokes told by a god of fear, madness, and lies.

End clip:

Analysis: The Old Man

Wiz: Cryptids living among us. Ghosts and monsters haunting our dreams from just out of sight. Eldritch terrors that the wider world does not and should not know about. It's common in fiction for there to be a hidden world of magic and monsters coexisting with our own, just out of sight, and every story has its own explanation for why the general public is completely unaware.

Boomstick: That's where these guys come in. The SCP Foundation! Secure. Contain. Protect. Tasked with hiding the supernatural and preserving normality by containing the anomalous, this secret organization employees scientific geniuses from all over the world to protect humanity in secret.

Wiz: Such is the case with the one of the Foundation's brightest researchers, Dr. Robert Scranton. Robert made his name at the Foundation with a miraculous device that could nullify the powers of gods. The Scranton Reality Anchor allowed the Foundation to contain otherwise unstoppable reality warpers by forcibly maintaining, or "anchoring" baseline reality. It's honestly a fascinating piece of technology that I've been meaning to disect for awhile now. You see, it works by-

Boomstick: Magic generator thing stops reality warping from happening. Got it.

Wiz: Awww....

Boomstick: But building a machine that could contain Gods wasn't enough for this ambitious researcher. The Reality Anchor was really just a prototype for what Scranton really wanted to build. So, he and his wife, Anna Lang got to work building an even better contraption. The Lang-Scranton Stabilizer was intended to be a follow up piece that made his original design obsolete. Buuuuuuut, then an Earthquake happened while he was fiddling with it and Scranton was.... broken across time and space by his contraption.

Wiz: More accurately, the LSS malfunctioned and teleported both itself and Dr. Scranton into a completely different reality. This "Red Reality", better known as SCP-3001, was nothing but an endless void, with not a speck of stimuli to be found within it.

Boomstick: For those of you unfamiliar with mad science experiments, this is what we in the industry call a "bad result".

Wiz: "We in the industry"?

Boomstick: Hey, being a guinea pig counts!

Wiz: Anyways, the reason for this reality's bizarre and unusual properties is because it technically didn't.... exist. It had an incredibly weak Hume Field. Let me explain. Hume Theory dictates that a Hume is a unit of measurement that dictates the amount of reality in any given being or object. The more Humes you have, the more real you are, and the more Humes in your environment, the more that environment matches baseline reality.

Boomstick: But that pocket reality had basically no Humes at all. Meaning it and, by extension, he, didn't really exist at all. He couldn't age, couldn't die, couldn't even really move because there was just... nowhere to move to. It was an endless empty nightmare, until the nothingness just couldn't sustain itself anymore and collapsed on top of him, completely obliterating the man.

Wiz: What should've been the end of a slow, brutal, gruesome end for poor Dr. Scranton was instead the beginning of something much worse. 3001's collapse did not just kill him, it mutilated him. Mutilated his existence. And transformed him into something that could no longer be considered human. SCP-106 aka The Old Man.

Boomstick: Gone was the once kindhearted Doctor and loving husband that the Foundation had come to know. In his place was a sadistic melting corpse that just.... drips all over everything.... oh god that's disgusting.

Wiz: Disgusting and highly dangerous. That gross black mucus that 106 secretes is sticky and dangerously corrosive, quickly melting through steel doors and human flesh within seconds. Leaving his victims looking just a mutilated as he is.

Boomstick: Oh, god stop talking about it.

Wiz: SCP-106 uses this material to mutilate targeted areas of his victims in order to incapacitate them, so that he may drag them into his pocket dimension and torment them for weeks on end.

Boomstick: Oh, yeah, and once he has his sights on you, he's not letting you get away. He can stick to any flat surface he touches, to the point of even standing upside down on the ceiling, and he can walk right through any wall or door in his way.

Wiz: While thicker materials can slow down his ability to walk through walls, he will get through them eventually. He can even turn his corrosive substance into a portal directly to his pocket reality should he need to.

Boomstick: And once you're in there, you're not getting out. 106 has completely control over his little pocket reality. From its physical appearance to the laws of space and time. You're not dying in there until he wants you dead.

Wiz: While all of this applies to every canon's version of SCP-106, some variations have specific powers and abilities that would contradict the backstory we've established thus far.

Boomstick: See, SCP continuity is kinda.... nonexistent. The only continuity is what you personally consider canon. In some stories, 106 is Dr. Scranton and in some others he's, like, a World War 1 soldier or a humsn subspecies or whatever. For the sake of argument, we'll be letting 106 use stuff he gets even from versions that contradict the Dr. Scranton story.

Wiz: Like the time he killed another member of his species despite their own Intangibility. Or the time he regenerated from SCP-173 snapping his neck over and over again.

Boomstick: Oh, yeah. 106 can go toe to toe with its fellow SCPs, like SCP-076. Or Able for short. And he's strong enough to punch through titanium doors with an energy equivalent to 158,454 grams of tnt.

Source:

Wiz: Able is also fast enough to effortlessly dodge automatic fire from assault rifles, easily evading projectiles that move at 715 meters per second. As Able and the Old Man are consistently depicted as comparable, to the point of frequently keeping up with the exact same enemies, 106 should scale to this.

Boomstick: As you might've guessed, the guy who went from being one the Foundation's best scientists to one of its most dangerous contained anomalies isn't exactly all there anymore. No version of him is.

Wiz: Yes indeed, 106 is at best an incredibly intelligent predator capable of setting elaborate traps to catch its prey offguard, only to get done in by its own sadism. At his worse, however, he's Dr. Robert Scranton. A desperate, broken shell of a man stuck lookina for a wife he doesn't realize he's already murdered.

Boomstick: Like a cruel joke, with no one left to laugh.

End clip:

Introduction:

Wiz: Alright, the combatants are set. We've run the data through all possibilities.

Boomstick: It's time for a DEATH BATTLEEEEEEEE!

Fight Music:

Fight:

Anna Lang huffed and puffed as she ran down the sterile corridors of the Foundation, the containment breach alarm blaring in her ears threatened to deafen her with each step. She needed to get out of here. Before he found her again.

Anna flicked her key card through the vip emergency exit access panel, but got a rejection bleep in response. She furrowed her brows and swiped her card again. She knew she had the right clearance. The red light flashed again. Rejected.

Even over the alarms, she could hear the sound of gunfire and screams not far from here. Anna swiped her card through the scanner three more times in quick succession. The light flashed red three times to match. An ear piercing, headache enducing, all encompassing laugh split through the noise around her, echoing off the walls of the narrow corridor.

"Having trouble, Doctor?" An unfamiliar voice asked. Anna spun around with a pistol she'd grabbed off a dead guard and craned her aim up to reach the face of the man who had suprised her. The anomaly that grinned back at her wasn't one she recognized. An inhumanly tall, distorted man with long, curly blonde hair and massive boney hands. He towered over her like a statue, his proportions making him look like some kind of funhouse mirror reflection.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Who is a question for people, Doctor. That is something that I am not. As for what, I believe I'll be helping myself to a family meal. Or perhaps not. Either way it is amusing!"

"Wh... what?"

"I believe you humans would call it a 'sport'."

Anna couldn't afford to try the door again. Not when this creature could so easily lunge at her. Her shaking aim stilled and her blood ran cold as another scream rang out not far from them. The thing's smile widened as the cries turned to desperate gurgles for air.

"You need...."

A yellow wooden door with chipping paint appeared beside the entity. The door opened by itself and the figure gestured her in

"....A door."

Anna glanced between the unknown entity and the end of the long hallway the screaming had come from. Her eyes widened as she saw the shambling monster causing the carnage she'd overheard. A limping corpse who gasped at her through cut open, rotting lungs. "...An...na...."

Without a second thought, the researcher burst through the yellow door at a full sprint. Better to risk it than face a guaranteed death at the hands of SCP-106. The door slammed shut and disappeared behind her, before Michael turned to face this new anomaly.

The two looked each other over, prominent sadistic smiles still spread across the faces even as curiosity shined in their eyes. "You do not belong to any Power that I recognize...." Michael began, shifting his long fingers into sharp claws. "....but your delusions smell delicious all the same~"

106 marched forward with an outstretched hand, before being stopped dead by Michael's claws piercing its chest. Their matching smiles curled into winces, with 106 clearly taken aback by Michael's strength. Michael pulled his hand free and watched with a mixture of curiosity and concern as the tar like substance are away at its fingers. "...Fascinating."

While Michael was distracted, a tar puddle appeared beneath his feet. Its legs quickly sinking into it like quicksand. Michael slashed 106 back in a quick stroke before dashing back into his corridors. The yellow door disappeared where Michael had once stood and again his laughter echoed throughout the building.

The Old Man glanced around in irritation. So this is how it felt. No matter. He had played both sides of this game before. Both predator and prey. It would find this interloper and reclaim his Anna from its jaws. There was nowhere in this building he could not reach.

"Does your rotting form suggest that you serve the Corruption? Or has the Stranger found away to disguise itself even from me?" Michael's voice echoed. Perhaps from the ceiling, the Old Man thought, or somewhere inside a vent. "Or do you serve a Fear that is much more... overt?"

106 heard a creaking door open behind him and disappeared into a puddle of rot on the floor before those claws could pierce his skin again. Michael tracked the Old Man downwards, only to get pulled upwards by the length of his hair. 106's liquid had pooled on the ceiling, giving him the perfect vantage from which to ambush its prey. The corpse slammed the twisted man into the ceiling by his roots, before tossing him to the ground. 106 could've dragged Michael into his home reality immediately, but he wanted to toy with the intruder first. Teach it how a real monster hunts.

106 lunged to the floor where Michael's crumpled body lay, looking to have his hand melt into its ribs before he could recover.

For a split second, 106 wasn't lunging at Michael. For a split second before he landed, could swear he was puncing at a terrified, screaming Anna.

The suprise caused it to tumble the landing, crashing through the floor as a result of its attempted course correction. 106 fell deeper into the site, into the sub basements that held up the building's foundation, but Michael did not. As 106 pulled itself free of the rubble, it was as if Michael had never been there at all.

Teleportation? Or use of that blasted door again?

"No, you don't seem to be of the Corruption at all. That wretched hive would give you too many friends to ever fall for that trick."

Trick. An illusionist then? A reality bender What did the twisted man mean by "friends"? What was he?

Perhaps an escalation was in order. The Old Man dragged his hands along the walls of the corridor, melting them as he went. If he couldn't find this creature, he'd simply bring the site down on top of it. The mocking laughter the echoed around him all this time disappeared in a shocked yelp and the blaring alarm fizzed off. The entire floor above collapsed in an avalanche of rubble and concrete, with 106 disappearing at the last possible chance to avoid being entombed.

As the dust settled, a cracked door with an adjar handle lay in a pile or rocks, with a familiar boney hand stick out of the mound beneath it. The Old Man emerged from its home with a look of smug satisfaction on its face, watching Michael's body sink into a portal of muck he created beneath him. With that wretched creature now his to torment, 106 could now reclaim his Anna.

"Robert... Roooooooobeeeeeeeert~"

Dr. Scranton's voice hitched in his gnarled up throat. It had been so long since his wife had called his name. He turned the door's hanging knob carefully. He failed to notice how the door's frame seemed to sprout hungry teeth.

What waited behind the door was not his Anna. Towering over him with the same stretched out features Michael wore was a distorted creature in the approximate shape of Robert's dear wife. It reached out with massive, boney hands and pulled Dr. Scranton inside.

Robert screamed for the first time in years, his mangled body finding life and energy that simply beyond it in its mutilated state. No one would hear it. The door slammed shut behind him too quick. Anna's laughter echoed through the Site's ruins with the same inflection as Michael's spiraling, distorted laugh.

And then the door disappeared.

KO!

Explanation:

Boomstick: ...Wiz, I'm gonna be honest, that wet old man cannot taste good. "Throat of Delusion Incarnate" or not.

Wiz: This was a fairly interesting matchup with a few complex factors involved. While Michael did have a significant, if incalculable, strength advantage thanks to his Desolation scaling chain, 106 was a whooping seven times faster than him. That, when taken in conjunction with 106's ability to hurt intangible enemies, as well as his corrosive liquids to melt him on contact, made the Old Man a significant threat to Michael.

Boomstick: That's about where it all starts swinging the other way though. For starters, The Distortion has been around since the very dawn of time, making it much older and more experienced than even the oldest versions of 106 and it's ability to fuck with the mind. If it can potentially make 106 believe that he doesn't even exist, then a lot of 106's clever planning and smarts goes out the window.

Wiz: Dr. Scranton's mental health took a massive toll from his time in the Red Reality, to the point where he actually fell in love with the LSS due to it being his only company, making him particularly vulnerable to Michael's games. And even non-Scranton versions of 106 have a sadistic streak as their consistently exploitable weakness, giving Michael a character flaw he could leverage.

Boomstick: And then there's Rob's biggest oppstical. He has no way of actually destroying the Distortion. Could he kill Michael or destroy the door if he gets either inside his pocket reality? Absolutely, but both of those things can be replaced. "Michael" is just the hand to a much larger Distortion entity. And there's no way the Old Man can squeeze all of those corridors into his little world.

Wiz: Neither is it possible he could destroy the corridors from within. They're consistently described as endless. Even Jared Hopworth, an Avatar of the Flesh that was so mutated and inhuman that the Distortion found him completely indigestible, had no way of escaping or hurting the corridors from within until he was let out. No matter how many mirrors or walls were broken.

Boomstick: The only thing that could destroy the corridors from within was The Archivist by the time of Season 5, and at that point, he was basically the Anti-Christ. Most 106 could do with his little puddles at that point in give Michael indigestion.

Wiz: SCP-106 may be one of the most nightmarish monsters in the Foundation's library, but he couldn't stand up to the Distortion's madness, size, and sheer eldritch power.

Boomstick: Unfortunately for Scranton, this one just Spiraled out of his control.

This Throwdown's Winner is...

The Distortion!

[bittersweetbark]

I'm not sure I want to write this out in fic form, so I'm going to just drop these thoughts here. Please don't read if your Pavetta is dear to you :') And YES she can be you blorbo, yes you can like her, no I don't require everyone to see it this way.

This is how I've filled the gaps in the books. There is a lot to be guessed, interpreted and deduced and I have deployed different versions of it for different fics (even been avoidy at first).

The core matter to me is the immense power imbalance between Pavetta and Duny. I'll give you a few seconds to nod and think "age gap".

...

Alright: No, the other way around.

She holds all the power in that early relationship before his curse is broken. He HAS to seduce that teenager or his life is forfeit.

One possibility to interpret this is to make him a lecherous pig - there are enough gaps in the books for you to do that; I'm not interested in that because it's boring and offputting to me.

So I'm filling that gap with a different projection and imagine it as the horrible task it would be to woo someone you're not attracted to and whose penchant for poetry I translate into "talks about Twilight to you and you have to pretend to agree that that's literature".

She says jump, the only thing you can do is ask "how high". Boundaries: extremely important in every relationship but even MORE so with a teenager who might mean well and simply has no clue. But you can't set boundaries. She might not like it. And you're at her mercy.

Do you know the Twilight Zone episode "It's a good life"? It's about a child with powers. Everyone has to appease him or they'll be telepathically imprisoned in their own brain. That child doesn't even have to be "evil", just a child, but instead of crying for a bit if you stop pleasing him, he'll nuke your brains out.

This is pretty much how I see Emhyr's task of having to seduce Pavetta (and no, I don't insinuate bad intentions on her part - she can be completely innocent and would still be Emhyr's tormentor).

The new "deleted scenes of Wiosna" fic "Jesień" addresses this power imbalance and manages to turn it around for them to have a more normal relationship by Pavetta being aware of the power she has over Emhyr - and she's also not abusing that power:

I was very happy to see that addressed in a story - but I will admit it's possible it has been done before: I actively avoid most Pavetta fics, usually. :P

The point that really makes me dislike her so much is how their "mutual betrayal" at the end simply can't be "all Emhyr's fault". Whatever happened in those few years between "Duuuuuniiiiiiiiiieee!!!!!" and clandestinely hiding the child because she just FELT that this bastard husband of hers had been planning something...! Ok, lady, princess, Karen. Emhyr knew she'd blow a seal when hearing the truth and she did. I have no explanation for such conduct other than sheer entitlement. Or racism against elves - I've used that in Last Yule but I also hate doing The Fantasy Racism, tbh. So it's "You used to be so obedient and now you won't do my bidding anymore. This princess is going to throw a tantrum now." (I admit I enjoyed killing her myself in "Jane Eyre and Wyverns".)

I also suspect she simply had to be fridged for the plot. But well - we deal with canon as is now.

[the-heaminator]

UH UH UH UH HOW BOUT THEM UFOS? HOW WAS TONY'S FIRST DAY IN CONGRESS?

LOVE THIS. Tiny teensy lil ficlet. Send me unhinged headcanons. Like very

Tony was an odd little motherfucker, I mean he was from fuck knows where but he was still odd considering all the people, nations and other eldritch abominations Alfred had the pleasure, or displeasure to know. Mothman may have had asscheeks of steel, Arthur and Matt each with minds at least fucked in 55 different ways, the low end estimate, actually the benchmark, Arthur was probably in the thousands. But Tony somehow managed to beat those two train wrecks.

The funniest fucking thing was that most people just saw him as A Dude, not an alien, he had determined everyone saw him the exact same as he did, greyish with big ass red eyes, but like everyone treated him just like some guy.

The lady at the entrance if Congress, the receptionist, a middle aged southern woman, sweetest lady Alfred knew alive as of current, took a once over at Tony, the fucker hadn't even spoken yet, gave him a sympathetic sigh, a visitors pass for him, and said "Ah, New Yorkers, sugar you know where to go by now so I wont bite you with that, does your little friend want some water or somethin', its awfully hot today."

"Bastard, stupid, limey."

She took that as a yes and gave him some water, he repeated the same string of expletives, this time he sounded pleased and was holding up the plastic cup like it was the sun itself.

She shook her head "Strange people they are, honestly, you'd have though I'd given him the moon."

They passed through, Congress was boring as usual, he had seen videos of british parliament sent to him by an Arthur bored out of his mind, they hot just about as much shit done as they did in Congress, which is to say not much of use, just made it seem absolutely drunken.

Tony got bored, started floating things around people's head and dropping them as they noticed out tf the corner of their eyes, that got boring so he tried to stuff a oen up someones nose, Alfred was watching with interest, "Shove it up his nose."

Tony complied, this was fun, he had an idea, he floated individual droplets of water from his cup into the air, and threw it at high speed at random congressmen and women, almost felt like hail. Fuck this was fun.

Tony was an odd fucking creature but man was he fun

[cymorilcinnamonroll]

"And Azazel Found Naamah Comely"

The Watcher looks at me with horrific, hollow eyes.  They are empty wounded sockets that have never sealed nor healed completely.

Michael ripped them from his skull, crushing the dark diamonds in his righteous fist.

He gazes out in blindness, salt riming his perfect, mottled lids.  The flesh rotten in beautiful decay.

Azazel, Angel of Corruption.  Blind like Samael, but in an entirely different way. 

Those eyes that hungered weep blood now, a cold black grit that pours half-congealed down his immaculate flesh.  His skin is stone.  His words mad whispers in the crushing dark.  

Raving.  Broken.  Bruised.

I know not whom to blame.

"Come here, darling," he hisses enticingly, voice rough from centuries of disuse.  I approach, trembling, clutching the ancient scroll to my chest.  He pries it from my hands, spreading it open in a razor motion.  His fingers trace the worn parchment, gliding ghost-like across the eldritch scrawl.  They settle on a name.

I meet his gaze, worse than staring into the barrel of a gun.  I recoil instinctively as his eyes bore into me, the old rags that covered them splayed across his throat like bloodied bandages.  A bit of the void weeps out.

"I smell him on you," he says coolly, the paper beneath his finger beginning to smoke.  Suddenly, the scroll erupts in flame.  I reel backwards, watching in horror as it burns.  He laughs lowly, grabbing my wrist with iron hands.  I stumble forwards as he pulls me towards him.  Bile rises in my throat at the otherworldly stench of his skin.  Cool, damp.  Like an ancient grave.  

"What do you want?" I whisper, shaking with terror.  "You said you would help me.  If I brought you the scroll."

His lips tilt into a mirthless smile.  "You don't trust him, do you?"  His fingers dig into my skin.  I know he could crush me like a sparrow in his hands, fragile bird bones shattering in his grip.  I shudder, and he laughs at my pain.  

"Why- why do you say that?"

"It's obvious.  Else you wouldn't be here."

"Pick your poison, I guess," I say, trying to fake bravery but failing utterly.

He smiles, so cold.  "Yes..." His voice is like a serpent's.  He bends his towering form over to whisper in my ear.  "And you, dear child, are neck-deep in venom."

I'm about to faint.  But I, mad, press on.  "Give me what I came for.  Tell me- tell me who he is-"

He roars with laughter.  "Demands!  Who is he?" he says mockingly, taking my head and wrenching it painfully so I'm staring him eye to empty eye.  I feel an alien mind pressing into my skull with the weight of the moon.  Colors swirl around me- blood red, reeling blue, a weeping void.  He's sorting through my thoughts like a carrion-picking crow.  Laying the shiny entrails out to dry and devouring the choicest bits.  

I'm on my knees, screaming, agony all I know.  The terrible angel above me, laughing uproariously.  He kicks my head like I'm a discarded bottle, banging my neck against harsh stones.  I shriek to the empty echoing alley as my head crashes, again and again, into the punishing brick wall.  The grit and underworld street take on a life of their own.  Hell in my world.  Hell on earth.

A rat skirts his feet.  He crushes it, smears the remains across my cheek like war paint.  

He steals my innocence.  My insides burn.  

He ruins me.  

Christened by blood, I'm no longer a girl.  I weep out piteously to the sky thatched with stars.  Azazel, above me, breath hot against the night, looks down at me with devouring eyes.  

"You want to know who he is?  The secrets of the scroll?" he says mockingly.  He wounds me- I scream beneath him.  He laughs like a madman.  "Do you want to know?" he says gratingly, demanding.  The agony continues.

"Yes!" I choke through ripping sobs as my world crumbles around me.  Death would be too sweet an end, now.  The horror I endured would chase it away.

Azazel smirks.  "Samael..." he croons, delighting in my suffering.  I weep.  "Is a bastard.  But you knew that already, didn't you?"

"Please stop.  Please," I beg.  "I'll do anything- AAGH!"

Azazel howls with laughter.  "I've ruined you, haven't I?  Your daring was all for nothing.  Now you're fit only for the wolves," he muses, licking the blood- my blood- that slicks his hand.  

"Yes!" I weep, furious in my helplessness.  I curse him, heaven, the gods-

"Shannon? SHANNON!"

There is a cold rush of wind.  The glint of a scythe.  

And then, all, is darkness.

[whenalltheeyesopen]

Whelp. Just for you.

Edit: AO3 cross-post

It was quite a miracle, really, that driving was boring. It was a miracle that a big metal box running on controlled petrolium combustion shooting down massive slabs of tar at several times the speed of any known land animal could be considered boring. It was a dozen miracles put together that it was just as boring on an ephemeral rainbow road between dimensions.

Irene was stressed. She was stressed and she was bored and she was focusing badly on the road. In the back seat of the car, her usually well-behaved Persian was yowelling piteously in its carrier because it had been exiled to the back seat, too far from Mommy, because the passenger seat was occupied by a man, and the man was sobbing so fast that Irene expected him to throw up. He was hugging himself with one hand and with the other he squeezed his Bill Cipher pin so hard that deep ridges lined his fingers.

He was choking back air with every sob, too despondant to breathe.

Irene was bored and stressed and down to her last frayed nerve and she had no more control over the man in her passenger side seat than she did over the animal in the back. His fear and despair were just as animalistic, too. The cat at least had the self-respect to think it was people.

A cobolt blue sky-crawler from Dimension 62`~ flashed its headlights at her, then didn't even give her a chance to change lanes before adopting corkscrew posture and zipping around her Toyota. Irene screamed "OH FUCK OFF" to the unheeding driver(s), suddenly overcome with the urge to gun it and make those alien bastards regret the days they were born.

Behind her, the cat burbled. Beside her, the man hiccoughed and sputtered.

Irene wanted to gun it, and possibly wanted to scream, but she hadn't made it through med school in the apocalypse by giving in every time she felt like doing something dramatic.

I am getting overwhelmed, she reminded herself calmly. I have to take steps to calm down.

There was an overlook coming up, a pocket of omnidirectional convex micro-gravity put in by the nearest subdimension's tourist committee to tempt more Earthlings out onto this highway. Irene pulled in and navigated to the furthest parking space, situated on a wall. Dancing colors illuminated the interior of the car from the passenger's side. The driver's side looked out on sparkling eldritch eyes which formed constellations in the void.

Stanford Pines did not admire the colors and he did not notice the cosmic beasts. Bill had taken his glasses before the agility competition. That probably contributed to what had happened. Ford also reeked of alcohol and something sweeter; he had been running the course so blitzed out of his mind that Irene considered it a medical miracle that he was able to stand.

Irene stepped out of the car. Ford let out a cry, but lacked the strength to protest further.

In for three, out for five. Ten counts. Clear your mind.

Irene had studied pediatrics. She didn't work with a lot of kids, but she thought it was just due diligence before she open a proper family practice. Everyone should study pediatrics; as a whole, adults had a lot more in common with children than people realize.

In three, out five.

Done.

Dr. Irene Oleander admired the Eldrich gods under her feet while she walked around the car.

She opened the passenger side door.

Ford's face turned away, then haltingly back toward her. His sense of left and right must still be reversed. Doctor Oleander was not a neurologist, so she had to just pretend that wasn't terrifying and let Bill fix it later.

"Doctor Pines?" she said as gently as he could.

He stared at her. His eyes were puffy and so wet with tears that she could hardly make out his irises. He was still sobbing.

"Please speak," she said. He usually responded only to imperatives when he was upset.

"Yes?" His voice squeaked.

"Calimari is very scared," Irene said.

He blinked a few times in confusion. The tears cleared out of his eyes to show rich brown and bloodshot red. He looked over his shoulder, though, at the cat.

"She's scared of being in the back seat," Irene said, still as calmly as she could. "She's used to riding in the front."

Doctor Pines's eyes went wide. "Oh no," he said, insecure replaced with a whole new terror. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No," Irene said loudly and firmly. "Pay attention."

Immediately he was totally still. Even the sobbing paused. The only sounds were goopy cat noises and his ragged wheezes.

Irene didn't let her conscience nag at her for utilizing his operant conditioning. It was all for a good cause.

"I think Calimari might like it if someone held her," Irene said. "I don't suppose you're experienced with animals, are you?"

Of course he was, he was a biologist.

He blinked stupidly at her for a minute before saying, "I am." Then he sobbed again.

"Will you try holding her for a little bit while I drive, to see if she calms down?"

"Of course, Doctor," he said through renewed sobs.

The carrier was shifted. Irene looped through a jughandle and back onto the road.

To her immense relief, he seemed steadier. Pets, children: sometimes all they need is a job to do. (The cat was calmer too, which was a pleasant surprise.)

Irene got as far as the exit to 46'! before Ford fell completely silent. At this, Irene glanced over to check on him. He was holding the carrier with both hands, not even playing with the necklace anymore. At least now he was calm, if a little... checked out.

"Doctor Oleander?" He whispered as Irene took the backslash exit and the Toyota began to groan against the sudden reintroduction of physics.

"Yes, Doctor Pines?"

"Did he leave me on purpose?"

Yes. Yes he did. He abandoned you because he hates you and if you were a real pet you would have been repossessed and rehomed then and there. He isn't taking care of you and he does nothing but hurt you and you're too broken to recognize that nothing about this has ever, ever, ever been anything but intentional cruelty.

Then again:

Primum non nocere.

"He was just bored," Irene said. "You know how he gets when he's bored."

Ford winced and shuddered and smiled all at the same time. It made Irene's skin crawl. "Yes, I know," he said. His voice was playful, almost like that was an adequate excuse, like all was forgiven.

Irene had thought about kidnapping Ford before. Many times, in fact. She had thought about drugging him, blacking out the eyes on his jewelry and tattoos, and taking this same highway as far as she could into the omniverse. She hadn't thought about it for long. There was literally no way she could make it far enough to completely escape the All-Seeing Eye, and the one time she'd considered a more elaborate plan than a plain old cut-and-run, Cipher himself had visited her dreams to mock her for it. Besides: Irene was selfish. As long as she played nice with this one well-paying customer, she got to keep a good house with a luxury cat and disposable income in a world where many people were lucky if their organs stayed on the correct side of their skin.

Ford was not a pet. He was a grown adult man with several doctoral degrees and a prestigeous scientific reputation. Like it or not, he had the right to make his own decisions.

And the only thing that terrified him more than Bill Cipher's displeasure was the thought that Bill Cipher might possibly leave him behind.

Ford did not do well in the dog competition. He knocked over all the agility equipment and got stuck in the tube

[peterlorres21stcentury]

dust from the cutting room floor

I don't always write down my discarded ideas, but occasionally I remember them. I did just now, and I kind of want to use this idea again (warning for rambling, boring character blather that I talk about too much):

In one story, I planned to have Georg swallow someone who happened to be holding a cell phone, and during the struggle, his victim took an accidental selfie from inside Georg's stomach (just imagine that showing up on some poor bastard's Instagram, lol). Georg always coughs up anything he can't digest, so the phone re-emerged minutes later, with that one photo as the only lasting proof of his misdeeds.

...Okay so for anyone new (hello, awesome new friends, I promise to comment on your most recent work on Ao3 because wow I loved it :3) I have a certain character. He is played by a young, if slightly more wretched Peter Lorre. His name is, variously, Georg/George/Torg. Torg was his original name in a dream, and I like to think that he tried to tell someone his real name and that person misheard him, so now he's Georg and doesn't bother to question it. Or he just forgot.

Anyway, he's something of a hungry eldritch thing stuck in human form, or possibly an unexplained mutant, and he eats other people whole. I don't know where he came from, nor how he keeps showing up throughout history even after he died several times, but it's an excuse to keep writing fiction for an effectively immortal being.

The above idea was cut due to pacing, as it made the scene run a bit long and it ultimately wasn't necessary, but I'd really like to have something like this again. I am slowly planning another story for him when he shows up in 1960s America, at the height of the monster movie horror craze. I could easily see him devouring a news photographer with a camera, and the same scenario plays out, only this time the regurgitated film is recovered, developed, and used as proof of murder. Uh oh. o_o

[crimsun-n-clover]

gonna be invading my dad’s business dinner tomorrow >:)

uhhh other shit

told my parents at dinner that me n sugar were more than friends but man i didn’t want to elaborate that much because the reason i never told them in the first place is because i don’t feel comfortable talking to old straight people about gay experiences. they don’t get it and never will so i don’t wanna put up with their shit.

i’m having fun on instagram. i mean it’s kinda boring a lot of the time but i really like seeing stories from my friends. and i also like posting them to brag about my kiddos, talk about band shit, show off my bastard son of a cat, and ask the questions i’d usually go shove down sugar’s throat.

i’ve been getting a lot of compliments on my battle jacket which is pretty rad. considering the insane amount of effort that went into it i deserve all the old people who go “yeeahhup i had one a those when i was in school wish i hadnta gave it away”

have i posted about the nightmares that i have every night? it’s really messing up my life at this point. i wake up every day with images of people i love dying burned into my brain. and then there’s the ones where i’m trapped somewhere, being hunted, being forced to watch someone die and not being able to help them, burning buildings, small helpless animals coming to me for help and dying anyway, watching after my little cousins and i can’t find them all once something bad happens, being accused of things i didn’t do and punished for it regardless, spiders, the whole nine yards.

i should start a nightmare tag on here but they tend to either be too long and eldritch to write out or so blurry that i only remember images and the fear i felt.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi makenzie! i’m currently looking for some good fantasy, do you have any specific favorites from your recent reads? 🤔

oh BOY do I!

Jade City (Fonda Lee) - the first of a ROLICKING fantasy novel unlike anything I've ever read before. the setting is stunning: the post-war island of Kekon, where technology (radio and telephones, cars and airplanes, etc) lives side by side with a magical jade that the native population has harnessed for generations to enhance their natural abilities to become fearsome combatants. the series begins with three adult siblings - Lan, Hilo, and Shae - struggling to find their places within their famed grandfather's legacy, and follows them for years as international conflict blooms and the family grows. Lee is BRUTAL writer who will kick you in the gut out of absolutely nowhere with some of her twists, but goddamn you will never be bored. I haven't read the final book yet but my hopes are HIGH.

City of Brass (S.A. Chakraborty) - also the first in a trilogy, this time centering around a secret city of djinn in 19th century Egypt. it starts as a fun romp as Nari, an adult orphan with inexplicable healing abilities that I'm sure won't be relevant to the plot at all, no sir, becomes entangled with an ancient warrior (bastard) and a naive prince (best boy, never done anything wrong in his life) and elevates into an absolutely epic political fantasy that I was heartbroken to finish. this isn't strictly "recent" but I really cannot recommend the trilogy enough!

Kaikeyi (Vaishnavi Patel) - a standalone retelling of the story of Kaikeyi, the wicked stepmother figure of the Sanskrit epic the Ramayana. this book is some of the most fun I had with a doorstopper novel all year; Patel strikes a really good balance between political maneuverings, interpersonal developments, and sprinkling in reimagined Hindu myths and legends. Kaikeyi's a blast, give it a chance!

Siren Queen (Nghi Vo) - I'm a Nghi Vo fan first and a person second, so there's no way I wasn't going to mention her most recent release. Siren Queen presents a fantastical alternate history where the rise of Hollywood film studios was presided over by sinister fey creatures, with each studio paying homage to eerie eldritch creatures in order to thrive. actors and actresses are bought and sold, changeling children roam the lots, and anyone who doesn't play along can be replaced with an uncanny replica. among all of this danger our heroine sets out to become a star, set on avoiding the stereotypical roles thrust at other Chinese-Americans. she finds success as the monstrous Siren Queen, but you KNOW she's not going to get a straightforward happily ever after in an industry that literally eats people alive.

The Jasmine Throne (Tasha Suri) - also the first in a series, the Jasmine Throne sees Totally Ordinary No Dramatic Backstory Here maid Priya ordered to look after Malini, an exiled princess banished to a haunted tower far from her tyrannical brother's court. Malini quickly reveals herself to be a much sharper political schemer than her sickly demeanor would suggest, and she enlists Priya in her plans to facilitate her own escape and overthrow her brother. this one is ripe with BODY HORROR PLANT MAGIC!

The City We Became (N.K. Jemisin) - we're once again stretching the bounds of a "recent" read, but the sequel just came out so now is the perfect time! this is a contemporary urban fantasy that asks the pressing question: what if cities that become old and powerful enough come to life, embodied in a single person who must represent and protect that city? and what if New York just had a big messy magical birth, just as its in danger from an otherworldly threat? great news - the five boroughs have also found avatars, and they're teeming up to save New York the person and New York the city.

[punkbirdwitch]

D&D sucks, play PF2e instead

wizards of the coast are a bunch of bastards and if you have to get your fix of tolkienized fiction, at least play pathfinder 2e instead! it's like D&D, but:

Paizo, the creators, are making an active effort to be better stewards of the design space they are in, and to handle their real world cultural inspirations with tact. Do they get it perfect? No. But at least they'll listen to you if you yell at them on the subreddit enough.

The combat is actually fun and tactical! The 3-action economy, where you get three actions every turn, combined with the Feat system, which allows for a wide range of character customization, makes every class way more fun, from Fighter to Wizard to Cleric. No more spamming multiattacks or Eldritch Blasts or doing the same thing every. Single. Turn.

The whole thing is free online!! You heard me right! Minus the content in the Adventure Paths, all of the rules content, character options, creatures, and GM tools are on The Archives of Nethys! You can literally learn all the rules of the game on this site if you want to!!!

The Pathbuilder 2e app costs, like, 5 dollars or something to gain full access???? but after that, it lets you build your characters in-app using all of the available ancestries and options. I think it may only be for Android though, sorry.

The setting is actually REALLY COOL. It's set on a planet called Golarion, which is a "kitchen sink setting," and is full of fun fantasy concepts, Tolkien-y or not. You can play a steampunk-y, brass-and-firearms heist campaign or a gritty adventure set in a land ruled by an evil undead or a game with futuristic technology without leaving the same planet. Also the Forgotten Realms are BORING.

Skills! Matter! In Combat! You can actually play an Athletics build, or an Intimidation build, or hell, a Diplomacy build with the right class!

PF2e has been out for a very short time compared to D&D 5e, and yet it has so many ancestry options, spells, not to mention new classes that have all come out after launch! It started with 12 classes, and is now up to 20!!! 20 core classes! Those unfamiliar to Pathfinder will find new fantasy flavor in classes like the Investigator, Swashbuckler, Oracle, Witch, Gunslinger (Which isn't just a lame fighter subclass, thanks matt mercer), Inventor, Magus (which is a built-in gish!), and Summoner.

You can play as a SKELETON! or a TREE MONSTERS with an COSMOS-ENTITY INSIDE OF IT! or a fucking ANDROID, which is different from the AUTOMATON ancestry!

all in the CORE RULESET! none of that is homebrew or 3rd party!

And did I mention it's not being made by WoTC???

If you want to play D&D, go play Pathfinder 2e. Have fun. Treat yourself.

... Or go play a Powered by the Apocalypse game, there's like a hundred of those and they're all pretty okay.