#eldritch horror palette

[stagelamps]

found this neat palette called eldritch horror and thought of nm! cronchy chalky brushes <3

nightmare belongs to @ jokublog

[emberlitfables]

A little comic about my avatar's origin as a little creature with a strange nature hidden underneath.

If anyone has any questions about or for them, feel free to ask them because my asks are always open! I would love to draw more for this, so having asks to work off of would be great!

[manga-ranga]

Canvas set - 9 separate pieces, done with acrylic & with palette knives (little spatulas)

This is Petunia... no idea what she is as you can only catch glimpses of her. She is rather friendly and generally likes tea.

This is available to be printed on things at my redbubble shop

[alllgator-blood]

I posted these on reddit a while ago and I've gotten multiple messages asking if I had any other social media? Which I didn't at the time, but after years of not bothering to post my art I think that was the boost I needed to finally re-emerge from the rock I've been living under.

ANYWAY uhhhhhh I've drawn these guys so much since I posted this that they might look a little different when I eventually post my newer art of them. Mostly because I don't bother drawing the little crosses on their heads anymore besides on leshy because frankly the antennae are really funny. If anyone has any questions about my hcs or what I intend to do with the characters, my ask box is open and I don't have anything better to do than endlessly ramble about gods that 100% would rip my head off immediately if I ever encountered them!

SPEAKING OF WHICH, the reception I got for these on reddit was way more positive than I was expecting which I am immensely grateful for, but there was definitely some miscommunication about the afab shamura headcanon so I'm just gonna dump about that below the cut if you want to hear me ramble about my nonbinary-ness for a while:

OKAY SO it's canon that the bishops were feral little animals before they found their crowns, right? Leshy and Shamura both talk about it during their follower quests. Feral animals do not have a concept of gender, only biological sex, so if they ascended to sapient godhood they would suddenly have a grasp of gender. My hc is that Shamura was a female feral spider, ascended to godhood, lost their bio sex in the process as with all the other bishops, and was just like "you know what? I don't want to be anything. This is kinda swag actually" so they just became War and Grief and Cosmic Horror incarnate. I am fucking desperate for any relatable enby representation in the media I like, so I just want to clarify me saying they were female at some point just is me going "I am living vicariously through this character who shed their mortal flesh prison to be an eldritch spider war god devoid of any sex characteristics" and not "I'm one of those numerous people who for some reason lumps this canonically agender character in with a binary sex". Anyway thank you for reading this far, here's an unfinished voidpunk shamura from a pride flag color palette thing I did of the bishops:

[darielivalyen]

Eldritch Tales: Inheritance [WIP]

Eldritch Tales: Inheritance is a cosmic horror game with elements of romance, set in a Gothic manor. You and your high school friends are reunited after five years by a mysterious letter, and through this letter, you inherit an old Gothic manor and a substantial fortune.

There is only one condition: you must live in the manor together.

As you arrive at Blackthorn Manor, strange, unsettling events begin to unfold. Shadows move on their own, nights are unnaturally dark, and the atmosphere grows increasingly tense. The manor is full of secrets, and the more you learn, the less you seem to understand.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary.

Customize your appearance, personality, and sexuality.

Romance or befriend a wealthy and carefree playboy, a no-nonsense scientist, a disciplined and protective ex-soldier, or a sweet and free-spirited artist.

Manage your relationships, or face unforeseen consequences.

Pay attention to your sanity and health, or…don’t.

Search for clues, solve puzzles, and learn the truth behind your inheritance.

Discover hidden rooms, secret passages, and eldritch artifacts.

Confront moral dilemmas, and be careful as they may have far-reaching consequences.

Face randomized events that will keep each playthrough unique.

Experience multiple endings based on your choices and actions.

What darkness does Blackthorn Manor conceal, and how will it affect your fate? Can you uncover the truth and survive, or will the manor’s sinister influence consume you all?

TYLER REYNOLDS

Personality: Tyler exudes a confident, carefree spirit that's both alluring and slightly unnerving. He enjoys the present and isn't too concerned with the future.

Background: Born into wealth, Tyler has always enjoyed privilege and opulence. While his party-going ways have quieted recently, he still often boasts about his family's status.

Physical description: Tyler is tall and lean with an athletic build. He has dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a preppy yet sophisticated style. He is fond of loafers and owns over two hundred pairs.

Smell: Tyler's scent is a blend of citrus and musk.

CALEB MITCHELL

Personality: Caleb is disciplined and protective, with a dry sense of humor shaped by his military background. Despite his rugged exterior, he dreams of a peaceful life.

Background: A former soldier, Caleb has spent the last couple of years doing different security jobs. His protective nature extends to his younger sister Julia, with whom he shares a close bond.

Physical description: Caleb is tall and muscular with a rugged appearance. He has a dark brown undercut, deep brown eyes, and perpetual stubble. His style is casual and rugged.

Smell: Caleb smells of cedarwood, with hints of amber.

JULIA MITCHELL

Personality: Julia is a no-nonsense individual who values efficiency and clarity. Her methodical approach to problems contrasts with her puzzlement at overly emotional responses.

Background: Julia has a deep passion for science, excelling in engineering and physics. Her cross-disciplinary focus defines her academic and professional journey.

Physical description: Julia is of medium height with a lean physique. She has neck-long black hair, deep brown eyes, and wears stylish glasses. Her style is Parisian chic.

Smell: Julia smells of lavender, with hints of paper and ink.

LUNA HARPER

Personality: Luna is a free spirit, and her vibrant personality is reflected in her artwork. Her infectious optimism and innocent humor reveal a soul untouched by cynicism.

Background: An eclectic artist, Luna finds solace in her paintbrush and palette. She embraces all sorts of spirituality and has a deep love for crystals.

Physical description: Luna is petite and has an ethereal presence. She has long platinum-blonde hair with pink highlights, and green eyes, and loves the bohemian style.

Smell: Luna smells of patchouli and sandalwood, with floral notes reminiscent of wildflowers.

DEMO | FORUM | PINTEREST | TUMBLR | KO-FI

[canadianno]

Cult of the Lamb doodle dump!

Just a collection of drawings I've made but haven't posted yet!

My shittens for beloved mutual Serv

Art below is of eldritch forms, so TW forrr... body horror and gore(?) !!! OH also mild eyestrain!

This first one is kinda lazy but it was me trying to doodle and figure out the difference! In my AU, when he was younger Narinder would have his face split very often because of the amount of power his crown holds + the fact that he's really emotional. Hence- yk, why my Nari design has the permanent scar!

This is the current planned Lamb eldritch form, made as a doodle with friends when we were all showing them off! Of course, nothing is canon until it's written in the fic, but as of rn I'm p sure this is the design I'll go with! Not the colors, ofc- that was just me using a limited color palette for fun :]

Bonus, since you came down here, a doodle of Nari and Webber!

[corviisquire]

get creatured!!!!!

Left to right: @moonchild-in-blue @leonsleftbicep @ghxstly-death

@pear-island (dunno what blog to tag lmao)

Me when I creature the mutuals. Just some simple creature eldritch horror designs as gifts ig! idk you guys are very cool. I had a lot of fun doing these! I plan on coloring them digitally eventually. If any of you guys are uncomfortable with this please tell me. And if any other people want a custom little horror beyond human comprehension I’d be more than happy to design one. I’m gonna stop rambling now (lie)

Design break down under cut :b

(not using first names I can if that’s better. Pardon misspellings. also color coding haha)

Moonchild-in-blue: Moons, stars. The whole shebang. Tied in some espera elements cause I know you love the ladies dearly. Just taking the vibes I get from you and translating into M O O N W O M A N. She has a fun half mask and I plan on doing some up close sketches. When I do color these, I’m thinking blues and purples. Ong I listened to hypnosis so many times drawing this… hope you enjoy it!!

Leonsleftbicep: Yeah uh this happened. Took inspiration from Grim and how you draw yourself (cool shirt and little tail thingy). Ram horns were fun so bam I added them. Also serated sword cause why not. Heavily bloodborne inspired. Either blues and golds and red and gold for color palette along with black. Yeah dog!!! (only a lad by oingo boingo carried this design)

Ghxstly-death: tall lurking being. Whenever I think of you I think of plants and mushrooms (so some of those are on the shoulders) I also thought a stall staff that doubles as a trident would be fun. I took some inspiration from Teacher from The Girl From The Other Side. When I color this it’ll probably be greens or any other colors you have preferences towards. Antlers are fun and I might add fungi to those too!!

Stinky poo master (pearisland): bro I don’t even know. I noticed some of yours OCs have scarves so yeah. Also fun pattern on cloak. Little guy also has a mercy dagger (used to stab and jab anyone who gets close). I know you play sky:cotl (I’m guilty as well) so cloak. uhhh she gurbert on my bunger til I geek off the yipper

[wisteria-winter]

I'm very curious about the Von Eldritch family

We can see some pictures of them in the background of Lucifer’s room, so it’s not like they don’t exist in the current series. In addition we also see pictures of them in the pilot and from what we can gather, they get along well with the Morningstar family or at least did.

From what’s known Charlie broke up with the brother and has a pretty hostile relationship with the sister. Though that’s practically all we know.

So, who are they and where did they come from?

From my knowledge they aren’t royalty, meaning they shouldn't be related to one of the seven sins. They also can’t be ordinary sinners, for 1. Lucifer wouldn’t associated with them and 2. They wouldn’t be able to have children.

Theme wise they are mostly green with a grey colour palette and seem to have hair reminiscent of octopus tendrils. Which doesn’t feel too odd as they seem to be inspired by eldritch horror, possibility Cthulhu.

Still though, how do they exist? Are they similar to the lineage of Stolas? Do they have any relation to that linage?

From what we’ve seen any hellborn in high power has some sort of role, like Stolas is supposed to read the stars and such. Plus it feels odd that Lucifer would be friends with just some random family that doesn’t have any significant role. As in, why would Lucifer want to associate with them? Or at least, associated with the father, Lucifer does have a happy picture of the two in his room, so it’s most likely a pretty close friendship. Probably pretty long too.

So, what is the role of the Von Eldritch family?

Are they just the embodiment of horror or something?

Are they in a part related to the cosmic evil that existed before hell was created?

Also, in other news, isn’t it odd that Alastor’s magic seems green?

We haven’t really seen characters with a lot of green. There is Zestial, though his green is more lime yellow, not exactly the green we are looking for. Though it is interesting that the oldest overlord has a colour pallet with green and not an excess amount of red.

In addition, I did find something fun, the fires of hell seem to be mostly green and do you know what burns green? Copper.

And do you know what copper represents? From the Wikipedia page of Copper: “In alchemy the symbol for copper was also the symbol for the goddess and planet Venus.”

And the fun fact of Venus is that it’s sometimes referred to as the “morning star”

I know it most likely doesn’t mean anything, but I thought it fun. Kinda like the fires of hell are representative of the Morningstar family. Like normal(red) flames don’t seem to hurt, at least it doesn’t hurt hellborns, but a flame infused with the power of the morning star is sure to leave a scar.

Oh! And as an ending note, the mothers seem to have a very similar hair style, maybe they also get along well?

[drconstellation]

More Half-and-Half-A-Miracle Thoughts

Part 2: The Dark side of Aziraphale

Updated 10 Nov 2023

Part 1: Miracle Power Ranking is here. Part 3: The Third Archangel is here

There was one that thing that struck me about the miracle working scene: why did Gabriel offer crossed hands to the duo?

Gabriel offers his right, his good, heavenly angel-sided hand to Crowley first, and his left, his sinister-sided demon hand to Aziraphale.

And this is NOT an accident.

Its been observed that Gabriel, in his amnesiac state like this, has reverted back to a more base-state angelic being, one of joy, and love, and curiosity. He's acting on instinct here.

Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. The demon has more light in him than the angel, and Gabriel and can feel that instinctively. This really shouldn't be a surprise to us, its been in our face all along. Now don't get me wrong - Crowley is still a demon, and Aziraphale is still an angel, I'm not saying that they aren't. Mostly we talk about how Crowley isn't all that much of a demon at heart, just "going along with Hell as far as [he] can," but we don't really talk about much about that other side of Aziraphale other than wishing to see more of his BAMF! side.

You know what - its a side that thanks to all of the rest you ops and meta-ists out that that I've come to both fear and appreciate. And let me tell you, if I found myself in a dark alley on a bad night I would hope to God it was Crowley I bumped into , because I feel he would at least give me the choice to walk out alive. I don't think Aziraphale would, I would be at the mercy of how ever he decided he wanted to manipulate the situation...and I find that rather chilling.

Crowley might be the charred demon with a heart of gold, but Aziraphale is the two-sided bastard of an angel he loves. All bright light casts a shadow. Its easy for us to be blinded by the shining light of goodness and right and the side of God (er, hang on, isn't the GO God an eldritch horror in disguise...?) and not be able to see what is hiding behind it.

We rarely see the back of Aziraphale's waistcoat, because he is rarely seen without an overcoat on, a covering of social propriety. There is the noticeable occasion in S2E1 when Crowley comes back to do the apology dance then they perform the hiding miracle (see screenshot below, and it was still hard to chose a good angle for all it went on for several minutes!) and perhaps in S1 when he spends all night reading Agnes Nutter's book. Both times its only in the privacy of the book shop, under the cover of night. So its easy to miss that the color of the back panel is a most un-angelic color: a dark viridian green. I know I keep banging on about this, but its important, and in more ways than one.

[Edit: Since I first wrote this, I've written a mega-meta on all the colours in GO, and some of the following interpretation has changed a little - but the significance of the green still stands!]

All the angels wear some form of a pale colored neutral palette, ranging from white to beige to taupe (white, off-white shades and shades of brown,) with dove-grey for the known in-show seraphim, Gabriel, Michael, Uriel and Saraqael. Gold and blue are also associated with Heaven. But Aziraphale is the only angel to wear green and shades of blue-green. He's quite unique in that department.

The colors of Hell are completely different. Black, lots of black. And red, different shades of red. The demons are actually quite a colourful lot, but do tend towards the darker shades. Red is a colour of passion, not just a demonic colour, although it can be associated with the demonic sinister left hand side. The main colour of Hell is actually green - the thick green light that you almost of have to swim through in the crowded halls of Hell, and examples like the green stag on Furfur's sash. It represents chaos, in competition to the rigid lawful nature of Heaven.

So while Aziraphale mostly presents a socially acceptable angelic front, its telling only Crowley has properly glimpsed that dark, shady, bit-of-a-bastard unpredictable side to him - and likes it. (More from Cobragardens about it here in 1793 Paris and 1601 at the Globe.) I mean, come on - this is a being that sent a man to his death so he could go on lunch date? A lunch date he practically concocted just so he could see Crowley. wtf? A being of love who was about to shoot the Antichrist to stop Armageddon? A being who quietly and efficiently discouraged the mafia who threatened to set the book shop on fire from ever returning? (See, told you I didn't want to meet him a dark alley...) Plus we saw him mind-control a whole roomful of people for his Jane Austen-themed ball, just to woo his beloved demon, with no thought of the possible collateral damage. I'm sorry, is this the same "guardian angel" we were all glowing over earlier?

The coat lapel as wings theory adds some weight to this hidden dark side of Aziraphale as well. Aziraphale's lapels always point downwards, towards Hell. Particularly when he has been discorporated and returned to Heaven, where frustrated about being told he has to gear up for war, he instead wonders out loud if he can return to Earth to a possess a body, reasoning that if demons can, he must be able to as well. lmoa! You are so not an angel, my dear! Yet...he isn't a demon either. He's almost...a bit of both. Two sides to a coin. A blend of light and dark. Shades of grey...although he doesn't like to admit it.

Image by lomiel

Back to the shadow-like green panel on the back of the waistcoat.

Actually, on second thoughts, I'm going to put that in Part 3.

[duckapus]

Horror Comedy AU where Ash Ketchum is an eldritch abomination spawned from an Unfathomable Void, but is still his usual self.

Basically, Delia was an Interpol Agent back in the day with luck just as strange as Ash's, and on her Last Job she got captured by a doomsday cult that was trying to summon a dark god equal to Arceus Itself and bring about the apocalypse. This doesn't work out, both because Delia's Aura awakens and messes with the ritual (I always prefer to think that Ash's weird ambiguous connection to Sir Aaron comes his mom's side even if in most universes she doesn't have a usable amount of Aura), and because the Void God they're trying to awaken helped Arceus create the world in the first place (and the two of Them kind of have a thing going on) so It wouldn't have helped them destroy it even if the ritual had worked.

Instead they only get a "small" fragment of Void Stuff that mixes with some of Delia's Aura to become a living mass of Darkness covered in writhing tendrils and glowing blue eyes that absorbs all the cultists, knocks out every Pokemon in the room, frees Delia, and shrinks down into the form of a human baby. Delia, being a Ketchum and a major character in a crack fic, promptly decides "my baby now" (to be fair she's not exactly wrong?) and leaves Interpol to reopen her late grandmother's old diner in Palette Town. She was planning to do that anyway even before ending up with a monster baby so it works out I guess.

Meanwhile, Giratina actually noticed the massive spike of Void that was Ash's birth and since the whole issue got resolved so quickly it takes a couple months for her to find where her new half sibling ended up (you read that right. She's the god of symmetry, Light and Dark are included in that, so Arceus and Void God both created her. Also I'm using she/her for Giratina because immortal genderless embodiments of universal concepts can use whatever pronouns they want), and when she does she offers to help him learn how to use his void powers...well, mostly. See, in this version of the Pokemon Universe not all Legendary Pokemon are gods and there are gods who aren't Legendaries, and the ones that are both tend to lean towards one or the other, so Giratina who's more Pokemon-leaning and only half-void functions very differently from Ash who isn't Pokemon at all and almost fully void, so there's some things she just can't help with.

Still, the fact that she's offering to help at all is a big relief for Delia who is doing great so far but would probably be in over her head raising what's essentially a Horror Movie Monster on her own, so Giratina makes semi-regular visits over the years both to help with powers and just to bond with her new little brother (and new mom because there is no way Delia Ketchum doesn't win her over). Also, absolutely no attempt is made to hide Ash's true nature both because I find it funny and because the Pokemon World is already weird enough that Palette Town having a baby demon just living there barely registers as noteworthy.

As far as Ash's childhood goes, it mostly follows the same beats as canon, though there are obviously some weird things that pop up. For one thing, one of his powers is that he can understand any language, including Pokemon. And, because they're sensitive to this sort of thing Pokemon can usually tell that he isn't human even without him using his more obvious powers, and that makes most wild Pokemon more receptive to him than usual.

Except birds. Birds really don't like him for some reason.

Also he turns out to have healing powers, which he finds out during that scene with Serena. Basically, he makes the cloth he ties her injury with out of some of the Void Stuff that makes up his true form, and by the time they get to Professor Oak both the cloth and the injury are gone. There are, however, side-effects, which Serena only finds out about after she moves to Kalos and Ash only finds out about years later when he saves Charmander. (I'll get to that later)

On to the first day of his Journey, things only go slightly more smoothly thanks to Ash and Pikachu being able to communicate properly, and they still get chased by every Spearow on Route 1 because all of them are trying to "Destroy the Void Spawn!" This means they still fall off the waterfall and get fished up by Misty, who gets the Full Horror Experience because after All That Shit Ash is worn out which makes him kind of Melty. And, well, Pikachu is injured, the Spearow are still coming, he can't maintain a coherent enough form to keep going on his own, and this is Season 1 Ash who can be kind of an impulsive jerk sometimes at what would normally be the bike stealing scene, so he kind of...possesses Misty and Books It.

And since this isn't a power he's ever used before and he's using it in a high-stress situation while injured, his control isn't the best, so she catches a glimpse of the Unknowable Truths of the Void, and that combined with her being there for the Biggest Thundershock Ever makes her a little...fanatical about Ash's whole Eldritch God Thing. They're still friends first and foremost and still develop something similar to their usual dynamic but the fanaticism is there, especially at the beginning. At least she's not worried about the bike this time?

Also when Ho-oh shows up he kind of visibly stumbles in midair because he was not expecting the Chosen One to be that! This is why we don't let the local Mew be the only one doing check-ins.

Anyway, Brock and Team Rocket are still their usual selves, apart from Team Rocket deciding to do research into how to fight demons so they'll actually stand a chance at stealing Pikachu so now they've got a Nacli (because salt) and a bit of an Exorcist Schtick going on.

The Charmander Incident goes a bit differently, because they just barely don't make it in time and Ash basically tells the universe NO and brings him back, which is how he finds out that his healing powers have side-effects because this time those effects are immediate. When Charmander's tail flame relights it's somehow black, he has what seems to be a new Ability that makes all his Fire-Type moves also do Ghost-Type damage, and as time goes on his scales darken until he has Shiny Charizard's color scheme. This goes further when he evolves, because he has some clear differences from a normal Charmeleon beyond just his colors, and he seems to now actually be part Ghost.

I also had some ideas for later on, like May being full of Ghosts because she's easy to get into but extremely hard to get out of or control, and Dawn being Akari who ended up as a Hisuian Zoroark and got back to the present the long way, but for now this is what I've got.

[charliemorningstars]

eldritch horror lady who's (probably) controlling everything from behind the scenes

black/white/red color palette

associated with shadowy visceral horror

was (most likely) formerly an ingenue type character from the very early days of humanity who became corrupted

associated with the protagonist's missing mom (we think)

close enough welcome back salem

[mozzaremi]

Hey! I’m new to the party! Love your art style and color palette, and specially the cinnamon eldritch horror roll ☺️🐟🌿

Honestly, horror and cuteness could have never been perfectly matched with Basil and I’m absolutely exited to see this au expanded! Which… Brings out the question. Unlike humans who see Basil as a normal teen, would animals like dogs, cats or other animals sense Basil’s eldritch presence? How would they react if they do? Or how would Basil react to their reactions?

Would it be kind of similar to the dogs with Wilbur Whateley in the H.P. Lovecraft mythos?

Welcome welcome! I'm so happy you like our little eldritch boy!

While I never intended for this au to be very expansive, mainly just a goofy side project to doodle for fun, I am having a blast with exploring this idea further with you guys!

For sure I can imagine basil having some tough luck with animals. While he hasn't yet been attacked by a dog like in Lovecraft's mytho, he definitely had many occurrences of animals either cowering away from him or biting/scratching him. None of them go into full aggression, but his presence does make the animals feel very on guard.

At the start of the friend group's friendship, most of the time kel and sunny would need to shoo away hector and mewo, just so no altercations happen when basil is around. Later on, since basil has been around for a long time, hector and mewo slightly warm up to him, but not enough to let him pet them </3

The gang has come around to the mutual agreement that animals just don't like him and that there's nothing suspicious about that. In their eyes basil's just a very unlucky fella.

The eldritch boy's honest feelings regarding this matters is that of despondency, since he has a soft spot for every living being on earth, including animals and plants!

[heartcasebullet]

wednesday dreamt.

sometimes, she dreamt of pitch black. silent inky ocean waves clouding her vision, arms clawing futile against the suffocation of the mossy voids of space.

sometimes she dreamt of monsters. grimy, disgusting creatures of her subconscious author, the wicked writings of her imagination projected out amalgamations and eldritch horrors.

sometimes she dreamt of her own death. in some dreams it shot out from her chest, a spiny stalagmite bursting out, her heart dug out and lay stabbed at the end of the pyke--she hated these. sometimes they were slow, painful, graced under the hooves of a horseman with disease or famine--she loved these.

but lately, wednesday's dreams were.... off.

instead of the inky black abyss, wednesday saw yellows. she saw blues. she saw pinks. she saw reds and whites and the color palette of the sky, the canvas of evenings, mornings, and sunsets.

instead of monsters she saw people. figures caught between the consciousness of a god and the savagery of an animal. they stood taller than wednesday, yet would caress her face softly with a claw, the fur of the palm softly brushing against her limpid cheeks.

instead of her own death wednesday saw her own life, reimagined with a figure by her side. a partner of blonde and blue and pink. a partner who gently held wednesday and giggled and snorted; mundane scenes of laying in bed and cooking meals would play in the film reel. a sheep in wolf's clothing, who infiltrated her dreams with color and adoration and feelings.

wednesday dreamt of enid. and as much as she hated it, wednesday loved her.

[dualglitch]

in your personal tastes from everything we have so far. also my own design notes/tierlist below the cut. pls add your thoughts

2nd/personal fave it's a close tie between nibbly and tinky for me but ill go nibbly. i really like tinkys true form/doll design but i wish the npmd costume incorporated more of that tealy blue contrasting eye/tongue color, it works so well. that wouldn't have translated super well on stage I guess? dunno slap some blue horns on him. or hey he already has goggles but theyre red?? make that shit blue.

first: wiggly. i like that wiggly is the eldest/leader and also has a design that most closely represents the 'classic' eldrich horror cthulu look! i think his design is just the most solid, there's really nothing id add or subtract from him. his palette of soft and dark greens look great and the yellow/red eyes are the perfect extra pop of color. not my personal fave but once again I think his design is objectively the most solid

nibblys doll design is eh but the stage version is just PERFECT truly could not envision him better. nibblys just a mouth so they were forced to get creative and god damn did it pay off. the visor and bangs drawing attention to the teeth is MWAH. also Kim was just the perfect person to cast for this.

pokey is also great. major props for how creepy he is, and the otho puppet in yellow jackets is just fucking ASTOUNDING. one of the reasons i view yellow jacket at the best nightmare time story ever. prob would win if it wasn't for just personal tastes here. stage design is pretty good too I just think those fur ruffs are kinda ugly. theyve all got a little fur on em somewhere and i think pokeys is the least well utilized idk

blinky is eh. I like the color palette and doll. I think blinky is even harder to conceptualize than nibbly but I feel like they could have done a reverse thing with blinky in some kind of mask that covers the mouth? Lauren slayed but the designs still the weakest

i guess it checks out that webby is the most normal since she likes humans/ she wants to look human for Hannah/lex, but eh I'm tired of the The Girl One Is Pretty trope, she deserves to be as eldritch and monstrous as the rest of them. i wish she was more spidery. maybe theyll drop a true form reveal at some point? i wish she had a doll. all in all she's just A Person. id like them to do a jane doe and give her some blackout lenses or somethin

ranking: wiggly nibbly tinky pokey webby blinky

[daily-teki]

draw her as fnaf animatronic

Day 18: Five Nights At Teki’s

…won’t you dance with me?

I might recolour it if I don’t have time for a new one tomorrow, leave colour palettes in the comments if ur vibin that! Plus idk i kinda figured seeing as teki’s a doll designed for murder she’d have those fucked up second row of teeth moray eels do as like. bonus murder weapon, but absolutely nothing else to set her apart from a regular person. You think she’s normal but then she yawns and the eldritch horrors are released

[slothquisitor]

What Moves in the Dark: Chapter Ten

A post-campaign Baldur’s Gate 3 eldritch horror AU.

Chapter summary: Both Astarion and Liv discover they're not quite as alone as they thought they were.

TW: blood-drinking.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

___________________________________________________________

Evening arrives in Ramazith’s tower, and instead of rushing out at the first sign of darkness, Astarion lingers. He’s spent the majority of his day continuing to dig through tomes and scrolls for any piece of information that might help Liv. He’s got two full tables scattered with reading material. One on anything vampire-related, and the other a mix of books about Netheril and Netherese magic and everything he can find about summoning beings from other planes. 

Astarion wants very badly to have something else to bring Liv, something to offer her, even if it is nothing more than a book or a piece of information to help his own cause. He had felt her fear, her nervousness the whole time they had been sneaking through the corridors of the Caldwells’ estate. He knows it was out of practicality, but her grip on his hand, as if he was the only thing tethering her to this plane had felt like a revelation. She trusted him, wanted him beside her. She had maintained the invisibility spell until they were nearly back to the shop, and though there had been no need to keep holding her hand once they were back outside that awful house, he hadn’t let go and she hadn’t pulled away. Until she’d dropped the spell, and he had dropped her hand and immediately missed the warmth and security it had offered. 

He is no stranger to touch, to the way it can be used to invite, seduce. But holding a hand with no promise or expectation of an escalation of contact? He can’t remember a time when he was allowed that. That he had enjoyed it, had missed it when it was over, what could that possibly mean?  

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by movement on the stairs. Rolan stands there, face full of surprise. “You’re usually long gone by now.”

It’s true. He has very dutifully avoided Rolan, Cal, and Lia since moving in. He’s grateful for a place to live, and that Gale had secured it in the first place. This tower is far, far, better than the Elfsong. But he doesn’t like feeling beholden to anyone for anything. His continued presence here is just a constant reminder that he owes Rolan, and that the tiefling has the power to kick him out on the street at any time. He’d rather not interrogate why that bothers him so much, so instead, he simply avoids him as much as possible. 

But it seems that tonight, he won’t be so lucky. “I usually am, but I wasn’t exactly feeling like going out tonight.” He scrubs a hand down his face, frustrated that he’s given Rolan an opening to ask why he doesn’t want to go out. 

“You’re of course welcome to keep toiling away with the research, but you could also join us for dinner if you’d like.”

Astarion shoots him a long-suffering look. He doesn’t eat; Rolan knows this. 

“There’s more to a meal than food. Company for one, and I’m sure we can scrounge up some wine that’s at least passable for your oh-so-refined palette,” Rolan drawls. 

He’s about to say thanks but no thanks, but a funny thing happens, the moment he thinks it, he realizes that he does in fact want to join them. He doesn’t particularly want to be alone this evening, and beyond that, what Rolan and Cal and Lia have feels so much like what he used to have with his own friends. It might be nice to spend some time with people who knew and loved his friends as much as he did. But he doesn’t say any of that. 

He rolls his eyes and grimaces. “Well, if you insist on twisting my arm, I will join you all for dinner.”

Rolan smirks. “Come on then, Cal and Lia are waiting.”

Astarion steps away from his work and walks with Rolan down the stairs toward the lower-living levels. “What’s your policy on visitors? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Rolan flashes him a look of surprise. “Visitors?”

“I made contact with that alchemy shop and the wizard there is helping me, but I wondered what she might be able to do with access to more books and tomes.”

“Oh. Are you genuinely asking permission…to have a friend over? To the place that you live?” 

Well, when he puts it like that it does seem rather stupid. “It is your tower,” he mumbles. 

“It is our home . Mine and yours and Cal and Lia’s. For as long as you want it. Maybe check in with everyone ahead of throwing a raucous party or something, but bring whoever you like here. You don’t need my permission.”

Home. Astarion hasn’t had a home, not in two hundred years. Cazador called the palace home just like he called his spawn a family. But calling something a thing doesn’t make it true, it only twists and taints in the cruelest of ways something that used to be good. He’s sure he had a home, once. A place that was more than simply a space to sleep. Early in his centuries of torment and captivity, he would wake to a darkened room, to some half-forgotten memory of another room, one that was his. He’d walk the streets of this city and wonder where his home might have been, which of the beautiful homes or buildings he might have claimed ownership. He never did find it, and then it had been so long that it didn’t matter anyway. 

He doesn’t understand the casualness of the offer. Rolan and his siblings have lost one home already, and he expects it would make a person less interested in sharing the one they’d inherited - dead wizards aside. Ramazith’s tower isn’t home, but it is a home. And one he’s grateful to be included in for now anyway. He also doesn’t say that. 

"I know how proprietary you wizards can get over your knowledge, so I thought I better ask before I waltzed one in here and let her go through your books.”

Rolan laughs. “The books and knowledge here are barely even mine. Lorroakan was the one to hoard knowledge, and I won’t be anything like him if I can help it.”

And that, at least, Astarion understands perfectly. 

***

The Vammas Estate is bright and open, built in the Amnian style, the home itself has an open courtyard in the middle, allowing for every room in the house to have access to natural light. The butler who greets Liv at the front informs her that Lady Josephine is, unsurprisingly, in the greenhouse. 

Liv and Josie have been friends since they were very small children. Liv had been an isolated child, the youngest in her family by ten long years, so she was often forgotten. But Josie’s home had been a refuge, especially in those early years. They had initially bonded over their shared love of books, of their frustrations at being the youngest and least important child in a very important family, but as they’d gotten older, it had shifted beyond that. Liv’s social circle was a small one, kept smaller still by her family’s snobbishness, but as she had gotten older, she had found a community. Other like-minded children of Balduran patriar families, unhappy with the way things were, wanting to create real change and do real good in the city they loved. 

It seems so silly now to have put so much stock in something that ultimately hadn’t been real, not for anyone else. It had been an entertaining hobby, a pleasant diversion, an opportunity to go around and complain about their families. When the first actual crisis hit, when Liv had decided to walk away after discovering the true depth of her father’s cruelty, she had thought she was walking right into the understanding arms of her friends. Her friends who had talked of doing the exact thing she had just done, of burning bridges, cutting off family. 

Only, it had only been talk for them. It hadn’t been real. Liv’s family had cut her off as quickly as she had severed her connections to them. And, seeing the writing on the wall, the people she had believed were her friends had deserted her as well. They didn’t say that of course, they were all raised to be far too polite for that. They simply weren’t available when she went to call on them, ignored notes, and were sure to immediately denounce her at high society social functions. 

Except for Josie. Josie, who had given Liv a place to stay when she had nowhere else to go. Josie, who had taken her seriously from the beginning. Who had encouraged her to find a job, to wait out the scandal. Josie, who once Liv moved in above the alchemy shop had sent weekly notes checking in. And Liv hadn’t returned a single one. Hadn’t talked to her friend in six long months. And now, she’s showing up to ask for a favor. 

The optics are bad. It feels bad. 

The gardens at the Vammas estate have always been some of the most beautiful in the city. The estate sits a little into a hill, and so the gardens themselves wend their way in long sloping paths lined with trees and flowers and shrubs that tumble down the hill in a riot of color. No matter the season, things always seem to be in bloom. But as impressive as the gardens themselves are, they are not the jewel of this particular garden. About halfway down the garden path sits a golden glass greenhouse that sparkles in the sunshine. 

The greenhouse is Josie’s sanctum. The Vammas’ are rich from their near monopoly on trade with Chult, and their ships bring back all manner of exotic and fantastical items from the faraway island. Josie loves the plants and flowers of all places, but her real love has always been tending them, making new beautiful strains of flowers and plants that could grow here too. 

When Liv enters the greenhouse, she is unsurprised to see Josie at work. She is dressed casually in light blue linens that only accentuate the sun-kissed gold of her skin. Her brown hair is pulled back out of her face, and she’s framed in bright, dusky light broken up only by swaths of green and pops of color that hang and vine from every available surface. 

“It’s so wonderful to see you,” Josie says with a smile, removing her gloves and striding over to Liv. She pulls her into a hug, and suddenly the last six months collapse, as if no time has passed at all. 

“It’s good to see you too,” Liv says. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come to see you."

Josie steps back, holding Liv at arm’s length. Josie is two years younger than she is, but the nurturing way she examines her has always made her seem the older one. “You look well. That alchemy shop agrees with you, doesn’t it?” Josie releases her and gestures towards a small tea table that is already set and waiting. 

“Surprisingly, yes. It’s been…liberating.”

Josie smiles as she sits at the tea table. “I’m so glad. I tried to give you space when you weren’t returning my notes. I figured you just needed some time.” She pours them both tea. 

Josie hasn’t changed, and her kindness is boundless, but it is Liv that feels out of place here now. The gardens are lovely, and the greenhouse is magnificent, but after all she’s seen, she’s uncomfortable here. “I thought it might be easier for you if I distanced myself a bit,” Liv explains. Easier for them both, she thinks. 

Josie inclines her head toward her, her words careful. “Because of our friends?” 

Liv nods. 

Josie rolls her eyes. “Seeing the way they treated you rather put things into perspective. Turns out, Veska was the only other person with a shred of dignity in the whole group. I always liked her, but I’m still surprised she had a backbone. Did you know that she left too?”

“Really?”

Josie nods. “About two tendays ago. Just up and left. There’s talk that she had help from someone in the Guild. No one knows where she went, but the main consensus is that she left voluntarily. Her father is beside himself.”

“And what about you?” Liv asks. 

“What about me?” Josie asks with a smile. She knows what Liv is asking. 

“Are you ever going to go? Set off on a ship to go see Chult and everywhere else you’ve always wanted to see?”

Josie looks around at her greenhouse, at the garden she’s built and created for herself. “You know they won’t let me go.” Liv’s parents didn’t care enough, and Josie’s care too much. 

This is the double-edged sword of wealth and power and expectation, the gilded cage that binds and preserves. Like Liv, Josie has only ever wanted her parents' love and approval. 

“You should go anyway,” Liv says. 

Her answering smile is a sad thing. “You make it seem so easy.”

“It isn’t.”

Josie reaches across the space and places her hand on Liv’s. “I know. I’m sorry.”

They talk for a while, Liv asks Josie about her flowers about all the new additions to the greenhouse and is grateful to see her friend’s eyes brighten as she talks about her passions. Josie has never been as restless as Liv, but she has been just as lonely, that much is clear as the conversation goes on, and Liv feels a certain guilt at abandoning her friend. They skirt the issue of her family. Liv doesn’t ask and Josie doesn’t bring them up, and for that she is grateful. 

Finally, Liv comes around to the favor she needs. “I was wondering if you could maybe do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Could you get me an invitation to the next party at the Caldwell’s?”

Her eyes narrow. “You hate those things.”

It’s true. “I do, but there’s something bad happening in the city, Josie. One of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate is working with me…and we think there’s some connection to the Caldwells.”

Josie leans forward. “What do you mean something bad is happening? And one of the heroes? I thought they’d all left the city.”

Liv thinks of the way Astarion has been hanging around the shop of late, simply reading or demanding her attention in some way or other. Some part of her wants to tell Josie all about him, and another wants to keep those moments just for herself. “Not all of them.” 

“You’re not going to tell me anything about what else is going on, are you?” 

Liv needs to play this close to the chest, only tell who needs to know. And there is no sense in scaring Josie. She is safe, comfortable and untouchable here. “I don’t think you want to know.”

“Whatever is happening, it must be important if you’re going to risk running into your family.” 

“It is.”

Josie pauses, and then seems to decide something. “Do you need a dress?”

And this is why Liv has always loved Josie because her friendship was never conditional, and she has never been anything but supportive. Liv hopes that she finds a way to repay that kindness better in the future. 

“Probably.”

***

Astarion is back at the shop. Again. He knows the space better now, knows which chair Liv prefers, and the order she puts things away in the workroom at the end of her evening. He knows that she mutters a bit to herself when she’s deep in research and if he asks the right questions she can ramble on for minutes at a time. He knows that she often pulls her hair back to focus and that she favors creams and purples and browns in soft fabrics. He knows how she takes her tea, and that even though he always declines, she always offers to make him a cup too. 

He is endlessly fascinated by the bits and pieces of her life he has absorbed, wonders if she has discovered as much about him as he has her. He can read her mood now with a single glance, and tonight, she is triumphant. Which is good, he needs the distraction. He’s feeling a little on edge this evening. It’s been days since Devalla had a contract for him. And that means it’s been days since he’s had blood. There’s a familiar ache deep in his stomach that he hates. 

“I had a breakthrough,” she tells him with a smile. She’s dressed comfortably tonight in a long cream sweater to ward off the chill of the evening. 

He glances up from the book he’s been reading. An adventure novel from her shelf upstairs. “Really?” 

“I’ve been playing with a different sort of casting of the mage armor spell since it creates a magic force around a person. It’s also a long-lasting spell, which is good for our purposes. I’ve broken down the spell into parts, and I think I’ve figured out an adaptation that includes a bit of Netherese technique…it should provide protection…but how much…we’ll need to test it. Obviously, we’ll need to do that when we actually have daylight.”

She’s rambling a bit, but she looks so pleased with herself, Astarion can’t quite help but smile too. “You think it will work?”

“It will likely need some adjusting, but that’s hard without being able to see exactly how it responds to daylight and the sort of protection it grants you. You’re of course welcome to stay here any time you like so we can test it, or I can open up the shop late one morning and meet you wherever you live…”

He laughs. “Have I not told you where I live? It’s ridiculous. Ramazith’s Tower.”

Her eyes widen. “You live in a wizard tower? Ramazith’s tower? Then why in the hells did you come here for help?”

“Because after tendays I hadn’t gotten anywhere. I don’t think the answer to my problem can be found in that tower…our little blood disease issue is a different story though. Rolan says you’re welcome to come by any time.”

“Rolan…? That’s right, Lorroakan died, didn’t he?”

He grins. “Lorroakan got his spine snapped in half by Selune’s daughter. It was marvelous.” 

Liv steps around the workbench, drawing closer to him and the crackling fire. “I always thought he was a bit of an ass. I assume he deserved it?”

Astarion thinks of the way the wizard wanted to use and imprison Dame Aylin, the way he’d beaten Rolan. “He did. So, you’re welcome to come visit. Rolan even said you and peruse the books.”

Liv takes up residence in the chair opposite him. “How very accommodating. Well, speaking of the Upper City…I got us an invite to a ball at the Caldwell's.”

“A ball?” he asks, a grin spreading across his face. He loves the idea of a party, but it’s been a long time since he’s attended one that wasn’t thrown by Cazador or ended in someone’s doom. The fact that they’ll have an ulterior motive for attending this ball actually feels familiar. 

“I should’ve known you love parties,” Liv replies. 

“And you don’t?”

“What is there to like about them? It’s just an excuse to spend money in order to backstab people in fancier clothes and with better musical accompaniment.”

“Exactly.” He happens to like beautiful clothes and being entertained, so all of it sounds wonderful to him. He’s not surprised Liv would hate them though. 

“We have less than a tenday to prepare, but Josie seemed confident she could secure me an invitation.”

“Josie?” 

“Josephine Vammas. She’s a friend.”. 

The Vammas family are a small, but extremely wealthy patriar family. “A friend from before?” 

“Yes.”

Liv has made enough comments about her past, her family that he’s pieced together some things. She grew up wealthy and hates it. She doesn’t talk to or about her family, and he senses that she doesn’t really want to. Part of him wants to ask, but he’s rather sure that if she wanted to tell him more then she would. Besides, he can be patient. Probably. 

As they talk, he finds his gaze wandering to the pulse point in her neck. His hunger often feels like a nagging presence, breaking through these quiet moments of calm, never once letting him forget what he needs to survive. He shifts a bit in his chair, letting his attention fall to his hands. 

“Quite powerful friends you have.”

Liv shrugs. “I’ve known Josie all my life. She took me in when I left my family.”

He has never asked about this, but he wants to know. “Why did you leave?” 

She meets his gaze, holds it as if she’s deciding something. He watches the moment she decides to trust him, and he’s surprised by just how much he wants that trust. Still, she glances at the fire as she speaks, rather than meet him head-on. “The single reason, the last straw sounds rather unimpressive all on its own. I discovered my father was funding a program that on the surface was meant to help people get into more affordable housing…but it was a scheme to just get people into properties he owned under predatory contracts. It’s never simple with him, the deceit is always hidden behind layers and layers. It’ll never hurt his reputation.”

Astarion’s first reaction is that the plan seems rather brilliant before realizing that’s the wrong answer here. “So that wasn’t the only reason?”

The shadows in the room seem to grow. “I was suffocating under the weight of my own expectations to people who didn’t give a shit. I still don’t really know what it is they wanted from me, but I know that nothing I ever did was enough. I was treated like an inconvenience at best and a ghost at worst. For so long, all I wanted was their approval or love or just a simple acknowledgment of my existence…”

Her voice trails off into softness, and he instantly regrets the next question that leaves his lips, almost unbidden. “Who are your parents?” 

“Fenrir and Marcelia Vires.” When she finally looks at him, he sees the sadness in her eyes for what it is at last: starvation. 

And it all clicks into place. Fenrir Vires is a diplomat, wealthy beyond belief, seemingly beyond reproach. The Vires are never involved in scandals and are as resolute a patriar family as the Caldwells or the Linnackers. Far too powerful to ever to even associate with Cazador, Astarion has no familiarity with her family at all. It’s a relief. He wants to banish that sadness, chase her ghosts away, but he worries that he doesn’t know how to offer kindness in the way she needs. He tries anyway. “They’re fools if they can’t see just how remarkable you are.” 

Her eyebrows raise in surprise and there is the faintest bloom of a flush across her cheeks. “A genuine compliment?”

“I can be nice, sometimes.” The words come out just this side of strained, his gaze falling on her pulse point. 

She seems to notice. Because of course, she does.  “Are you alright?”

“Hmmm?” There are moments, where thinking clearly feels like swimming through sludge. He can’t quite seem to clear his mind. He needs blood; he should go. 

Liv leans forward, closing the distance between them. Her sharp green eyes rarely miss things, but he wonders what she’s seeing when she looks at him now. She frowns. “When was the last time you ate?”

Anything substantial? Oh, it’s been days and days, but he’s not about to admit that. “I’m fine.”

She glares at him. “You’re starving, aren’t you?”

He stands up from the chair, pushing past her in his agitation. “I said I’m fine.”

She pushes up from her chair, following him. “You can just ask, you know.”

He really can’t. He’s not sure how to explain the depths of the humiliation of his inability to be entirely self-sufficient in this. He wants nothing less than her pity. She’s shown him a fair bit of vulnerability this evening and that’s all fine and good, but that doesn’t mean he must. He survived for two hundred years on far less than this. “I appreciate the concern, but I am perfectly capable of ensuring I’m fed.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re being ridiculous. You need blood, and I’m offering it freely and willingly.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from your bleeding heart.” The jab isn’t a particularly sharp one, but he’s hoping that aiming at her will take some of the focus off him. 

“You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Get all prickly the moment someone offers you kindness.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the world is not a kind place, so forgive me for mistrusting it,” he replies. 

Her laugh is a joyless thing. “You say that as if I’m unacquainted with that truth, but we are not the world. We’re…” she falters as if searching for the right words. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” 

He meets her gaze. Her eyes are searching his, an edge to them he can’t quite parse. Friends. Yes, he supposes that’s what they are. “If I say yes, does that make this some sort of twisted trust exercise?” 

He can tell it is the wrong thing to have said because she gives up on him entirely. “No, of course not. It’s just an offer that would be nice if you took it at face fucking value. Alright?” She turns away, heading back to her workstation. 

Annoyance looks good on her, it makes her features sharper, and her back straighter. He’d be lying if he said the promise of her blood is not tempting. And really, is this any different than drinking from Tavren? 

“It will hurt,” he says to her retreating back. “And you may feel a little ill after.”

“I’m familiar with the symptoms of blood loss,” Liv replies matter-of-factly, as she turns to look at him. “I’ve got potions for that.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. What do I need to do?” 

His gums ache with the thought of blood being so fucking close. “Turn around.” 

Through their months of travel, Tavren was always quick to volunteer their blood whenever Astarion needed it. They kept better track of Astarion’s need to feed than even he did some days. Everything about it had become rather routine, entirely devoid of the charged intimacy of that first night. Still, Astarion preferred drinking from the neck, and Tavren preferred that the drinking not feel quite so intimate, so it never occurs to him to ask Liv for anything different in this moment. 

She follows his instruction without comment, bracing her hands against the workbench. Her long, dark hair is down this evening, and Astarion carefully gathers it from her neck to drape it over her left shoulder. She tilts her head as he does, imperceptibly, exposing the long column of her neck to him. A surge of want rushes through him. It is so surprising, so unexpected, so honest, that it isn’t until his lips are pressed softly against her neck that he realizes that’s not what this is. 

He has tangled hunger and desire too often and too much. And that’s all this is, isn’t it? Just his hunger. He doesn’t want her , just her blood. Once he drinks, it will pass. He composes himself and then bites into her neck. Her blood blooms on his tongue, bright and clear as a clarion call. She tastes like dawn, the promise of a blazing, new day. Her answering gasp as his fangs sink deeper into her is a lovely thing, soft and quiet enough he might have missed it. 

She sways a little as he drinks, and he brings one hand around to steady her, splaying wide on her waist. The contact feels like a jolt of lightning magic, especially as the gesture presses her closer, and he becomes immediately aware of every bit of contact between their bodies. Warmth radiates off her, drawing him in, seeping into the places where he presses against her. 

She draws a shuddering breath in as if she’s been holding her breath this whole time, and her hand finds his on her waist, fingers threading together. It is all at once too much contact and not enough. He wants to get lost in her, wants this to go on forever…but it can’t. 

He releases her rather more roughly than necessary, putting space between them he’s not sure he wants but is sure they both need. He doesn’t need to breathe, but his breaths come in uneven gasps anyway. She turns back to look at him, face pale, eyes full of questions, and blood running down her neck in perfect, sin-red rivulets. He wants to reach for her, wants to press her back into the workbench and lick the blood off her smooth skin. He wants, and wants, and wants.

“I should go.” The words come out strangled and unsure, but he’s already rushing out of the shop, putting as much distance between him and Liv Vires as he possibly can.