#eldritch yuri

[wulfthedollmaker]

I don’t know why but I decided to ship Opal with the Boiled One so here is your dose of Eldritch yuri

Also Wulf is absolutely terrified by them (and the fact that Wulf has to share a body with Opal does NOT help)

[cavernclaw]

happy pride month here’s a dumb ship i had. (sado x winged lion)

[gremnoire]

If a star winks down at you from up above,

it's not atmospheric twinkling,

Its love--flirting, even,

millions of years in transit ✨

-⁊

(Art by the amazing @koinumilk )

[youryurigoddess]

The summer that was never supposed to end

You’ve probably noticed how in Good Omens 2 Crowley’s eyes are brighter, more saturated, as if glistening with liquid gold. We’ve already covered his hair. And it’s not only the visual aspect of him — even in objectively stressful conditions, Crowley appears mature and put together, way cooler and more protective than before. Even his faults are heavily romanticized in the past and present scenes, reminding of the S1 body swap, when Aziraphale projected his love to him on the way he played the demon in Hell.

It’s not just the demon. The whole season is more vibrant, bolder, filled with sunshine. Just like a summer that was never supposed to end. Like a memory of a loved one seen through the eyes of someone who thinks of them every day until the end of the world.

S2 seems ridiculously saturated, whimsical, and full of red and gold, just like a certain demon. Aziraphale not only painted his bookshop in his image, but literally colored the whole world in Crowley’s colors. It was such lush and saturated and blooming with warmth and hazy light.

It’s either that all the newest events are just another memory seen through a certain angel’s eyes, or said angel actively made it appear this way — as in, his feelings grew so strong that they’ve started to warp the reality around him. And it’s a well-known fact that Aziraphale has a tendency to affect his surroundings, either unconsciously, when his presence in the bookshop literally lightens up the sky seen through its windows, or very much consciously, when he takes over the position of a master puppeteer and manipulates people with or without the help of his miracles.

S1 was more dramatic and apocalyptic, but not particularly gray — at least not as much as the color grading typically used in portrayal of similar apocalyptic narratives. S2, at least as seen through Aziraphale’s own La Vie En Rose lens, is vibrant and saturated. And those colors drastically fade in the heavenly light of the elevator during the credits, suggesting that they won’t be as visible in the course of S3.

But I don’t want to ramble about the apocalypse sandwich and the three-act structure here, so let’s circle back to S2.

Good Omens 2 was really set in a summer that was never supposed to end. But it did, autumn crept in, and there was no chance of hearing the nightingales sing. They all had left by the time an angel and a demon finally kissed.

In the most literal sense: the very last nightingales usually migrate from the UK to their wintering grounds in Sub-Saharan Africa in the first days of September.

Aziraphale was right that nothing lasts forever — and the passage of time on Earth is marked by subtle details invisible to the immortal eyes.

The main thing about autumn migration is how sudden and hard to predict it is. The birds start disappearing gradually, often without notice, until at some point they are no longer here. Much like the angel leaves the bookshop — their shared nest — to spread his wings and fight.

And it was basically announced on the poster.

Can you see the migratory formation of birds up in the sky? It looks like Aziraphale is the last one to get off the ground and fly.

[rosenbergamot]

“You’re annoying me.” Gem says to the mysterious shape in the water that’s been watching her fish for the past… oh, I don’t know, five days. Usually the thing will swim away quickly, or sometimes it will disregard her ire and continue to sit there as if it relished in her annoyance. Today it slaps its tail against the water, sending waves towards her.

“That was childish.” She blows a raspberry at it because she herself is the pinnacle of maturity.

It slaps the water again, splashing her and giving her a mouthful of briny seawater. She spits it out, unamused. Its tail is large, with deep blue scales that sparkle in the morning sun. Whatever this thing is, it's big and it loves to watch her talk to herself.

“You know we’re on the same side here, right?” This is a lie and they both know it. Fisherman and fish could never be on the same side. “Hey, how about if I catch anything I’ll give you some of it. But you have to promise to stop scaring the fish away!”

The tail slowly raises out of the water. It does not slap down like it did before. Instead, slowly, so slowly, a head raises out as well. She sees two deep eyes stare back at her, a head of messy brown hair, a smile sharp and intelligent.

“What?!” She gawks.

“You promise, mate?” It has a playful voice, melodic and feminine, and when it speaks its gills flare at its neck. “I don’t take too kindly to people breaking their promises.”

“You’re a person?”

It purses its lips. “Not really? What, you think a person looks like this?” She unearths her fingers from the water. The sea drips off of her long sharp claws. “Couldn’t do much with these if I was a person.”

“Uh… yeah!” She recasts her line, her eyes wandering across the pale skin until she reaches the chest and— oh! The… person? Creature? Whatever it is, it’s shirtless, and Gem doesn’t want to be caught staring. That’s so rude! She fixes her gaze on her rod.

It swims closer to her. It gets so close she’d be able to touch if she wanted. It rests its head on the dock, stares up at her with vertical pupils. She’s got silvery patchings of scales on her face.

This is… only a little bit different from what they’d been doing before. She can still handle it. It’s just… right there instead of in the water. And instead of just being a fish it is a very pretty woman with very sharp teeth. That’s okay! Gem’s okay!

She goes back to fishing, those eyes still on her. Eventually she hooks a salmon and cheers. The creature blinks at her as she puts it in her bucket.

“None for me?” She pouts.

“Oh, no! You’ll just have to wait!” She grabs more bait. “I need to feed myself, after all. I’m a busy woman, can’t have some fish lady taking all my food!”

A miserable sigh. It bonks its head back down on the dock. “You’re lucky I think you’re pretty.”

That catches her off guard. She accidentally hooks a bit of her thumb as she’s trying to hook the worm. She curses and shakes the blood off. The creature’s eyes follow it.

“Uh-huh… and why’s that?”

When she responds, she’s not looking at Gem. She’s staring at her bleeding thumb. Her long tongue comes out to lick at her lips. She grins at her.

“‘Cause I’d have just eaten you already if I didn’t.”

When she swallows, it watches the way her throat moves with attentive eyes. They sit there in silence for the rest of the day.

It ends up swimming away with five whole fish in her grasp. As she’s disappearing, she yells back to Gem:

“See ya tomorrow, pretty fisher lady!” Her teeth reflect the sun. “I hope ya catch lots of stuff tomorrow! For both our sakes!”

Then it’s gone, tail the last thing to leave, and Gem is left to wonder if she’s just invited something horrible into her life…

And if so, why is she excited about it?

[terminal-chaos]

We love eldritch entities obsessing over one person!!

[siyaazu]

Just a girl with her gaster blaster

[sad-emo-dip-dye]

You know what? It’s MerMay I think it’s time lovecraft came back

[resuri-art]

When you're a silly butch loved by a sapphic eldritch abomination <333

To read "My Eldritch Romance"👉✨LINK✨️

[seraphimslum]

edenfall launch! an angel and her darling eldritch approaches...

hello fellow rotten angels! welcome, once again, to the slums… this time, though, instead of playing as that deranged angel ezekiel, you'll be inhabiting eden, the eldritch within ezekiel that loves her… a little too much.

edenfall is brought to you by a few familiar faces: josh carlat leads the game's development once again, carefully creating those crash screens and creepy text we know all too well. lorraine wong brings to you the liminal soundtrack and the slum's incomprehensible echoes. lauren kong reprises her role as ezekiel, giddy and manic and loving. juicydev ensures the eerie writing and gameplay hits just the right note, like a perfectly brewed cup of grass tea. our anonymous artist returns with their renaissance-esque renderings of the slum's angels, gorgeous and haunting. we're joined by clockworkjoker, who illustrates the slum angel's sprites with the twist of their personal style, and binaryheartgames, who delivers eden's slum devourings with green verve. and of course, i return with directing and writing this next instalment of ezekiel (and eden's) descent into the slums.

i am excited to present you with day 1 to day 4 (with a sprinkling of day 5) of edenfall. although edenfall is not complete, as the full game is intended to be 7 days long, we intend on finishing the game around june 2024 and have a steam released planned in the near future: do look out for that!

if you love the seraphim slum universe, do consider supporting us with a donation when downloading the game: your support helps us pay for the $100 steam release fee and helps us continue developing games.

thank you for reading, and we hope you enjoy your descent into the slums - as the eldritch-thing eden this time.

signing off, rosesrot

[izel-scribbles]

if requests are open can I ask for some jaroe(faroe+jane from faroeverse)? I miss those girls:(((

Hope you have good holidays!!

oh man i just queued a bunch of posts last night and the faroeverse one is scheduled for jan 6 😔 youll have em soon

[cemetrrrry]

my favourite lesbian who has nothing wrong with him

[gremnoire]

"Go ahead and open it, puppet; it won't bite...butitmaysting~"

🎄 Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all my readers from Calliope and Esther! As the year swiftly turns over, may your days be colorful and your nights be dark and full of (bewitching; bewildering) eyes 👁️

(expect chapter 12 of Antigreen on Dec. 27th!)

(Art by @ cutelootsuit on Twitter)

[demigod-of-the-agni]

bro died

[eydilily]

Want to say that art of creaking Gem and warden Pearl is PHENOMENAL, IT'S AMAZING I LOVE IT SO MUCH

Do you mind if me and mt friend use it as our profile pictures on twitter? With credit of course :D

YEAHHHH IM SO GLAD YOU AND YOUR FRIEND LIKES THEM!!!! and ofc ofc!!! you can just use my twt handle if you go with it!!! <3 <3 <3

[expiredanarchy]

The fear god (A yuri focused fic)

The Corps.

A facility that upholds itself in the highest standard. Filled with research analysts, ex-military personnel, and horrifying monsters the likes nobody has seen. 

The organization is hellbent on keeping  humanities best interests in mind. These monsters are sometimes beneficial, and intend to help out humanity. 

The others are locked away, or neutralized. 

The fear god has become a threat lately, and it’s Konni cult had been suffering losses. 

Yuri is the missing key, but even he has conflicting loyalties in his conscience.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nothing was ever easy. 

Nothing is ever easy.

Nothing will be easy. 

Yuri repeated the mantra in his head. He was originally of high status, and now found by a man who went by Soap. The lonely street corner he was sitting at months ago was on his mind. 

Makarov could have killed him. His insolence proved him to be disposable. He was taken in by the Corps after, an elusive organization hellbent on keeping humanities best interests in mind. 

He met a lot of odd fellas here, and he wasn’t expecting any of his old comrades to even be here. As elusive as the Corps is, the Konni cult is far more likely to be four steps ahead. 

Nobody in the organization knew of Yuri’s origins. He briefly mentioned supernatural dealings, but never disclosed his previous life to others. His clothes were always hyper modest in fashion. 

Nobody knew if he was allergic to the air around the facility, but his skin never stayed exposed. It wouldn't be too uncommon for someone as new as him to be this closed off. The mystery man simply did his work, and reported to the ever elusive Triad organized by the corps.

Yuri, now seated at his desk, begrudgingly stared at the stack of paperwork he was made to do. He knew he wasn't trusted yet, and his effort to appear like an ally was futile. The mere fact that he couldn't even speak to others of his situation made him look suspicious at any given time. He was required to report where he is at all times, and keep a time log of the things he ate.

It was never easy having your privacy completely invaded by men that would rather see you dead. He knew he was only alive for being the missing link needed in the Triad’s  investigation. Being an ex-cultist never helped anyones reputation, but he was blinded with false promises of fortune and security in a new world. 

Makarov was a silver tongued monster, both literally and figuratively. Yuri was never sure what parts of his life were ever real or which ones were fake.

He stared down at his papers deep in thought. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights above him always made these moments of dissociation worse. He thought there was no point in thinking about his past after escaping. He never wanted to be involved in anything Konni related after his life of clarity. Yuri always felt a pang of guilt hit him at times. He knew he had blood on his hands, and blood caused him to be close to the fear god. 

Makarov always fed off his fear, and oh was it delicious to the beast. It felt worse when he was complicit in any of the terror attacks. The hypnotic trances always got to him, and surviving was easier said than done. He knew he could have been the next one to go when another fellow cultist was devoured. Yuri was well aware of his use, and made sure he ran away. He ran away and took Makarov’s food source with him. 

He was used to being replaceable; Yuri rubbed his temples, and pushed himself to write on paper. He did not want to do so. It did not matter to him if he did not want to do so, as he did it since he found himself in the same position as he was before. He was yet again, replaceable at the hands of people who'd rather discard him. He somehow always found himself useful in both situations. He knew his luck would run out eventually. 

He did not take much time on his paperwork, as he was urgently needed for the next briefing. He is a part of the 141, a task force designed to neutralize threats.  The 141 were infamous for their monster slaying methods. As questionable as they were, the corp was thankful that they took care of threats to humanity pretty well. After all, they are the Shadow task force’s sister branch. Each task force was led by a commander, and each is selected based upon several careful evaulations.

Yuri knew he was thankful to be alive due to Hershel Shepherd, Kate Laswell, and Phillip Graves. The three commanders found his use in their case to be exceptional, as they have killed and captured several more Konni cultists. Trudging himself to the conference, he seemed surprised to learn he was finally allowed to join the 141 in this endeavor. 

“We apologize if we had been harsh before, but it was a precautionary measure. It is true that you were previously a Konni cultist, correct?” Laswell spoke, she was the more level-headed of the three branch commanders. She is in charge of the Rangers, an internal security branch.

 Yuri paused, and answered as truthfully as he could. “Yes ma’am, I was part of that organization,” Yuri struggled to speak up about his past, but he managed to pull through.  

“Konni cultists are individuals who are brainwashed past suggestibility. I was once stripped of my humanity and under the control of the fear god,’ He fidgeted with his hands, and looked around.

 “To break free from his suggestibility, you would need to have attachments and something to lose.” Yuri put emphasis on his words, and hoped that it was enough to pique the triad's interest. 

The triad did not need to know of his rather intimate relationship with Makarov. He thought he would be in the clear, since he made it seem like he was a lowly ranked cultist. Yuri did not make it known that he was an inner circle soldier. He was one of the more individuals, at least before his semblance of humanity came back to him.

Yuri thought it felt ironic that Makarov was the reason for his humanity returning to him. He knew that most of his ex-cultist colleagues were too fearful of Makarov, as was he. 

He snapped back into reality. Shepherd commented on his mental state; Yuri felt shame of embarrassment creep up on his neck. “Look at em, poor thing can’t even concentrate. Are you sure he’d even be a valuable asset?” 

The light brunette, Graves, spoke in turn. “Come on guys, give ‘im a benefit of the doubt, ‘m sure I think he’d be better off bubble wrapped and tethered.” The man had a mild Texan drawl to his voice—he chuckled at his own joke. 

How corny can one man get? Yuri’s thought was interrupted, this time by Laswell. He watched the blond woman chime in. 

“I believe the best course of action is to let my department take him in .” She stated as a matter-of-fact, “The task force excelled in neutralizing several aberrations, and a single man can be handled if he ever decides to go rogue.”  Laswell stated; she is serious about this.

“Very well then, I approve,” Shepherd spoke up, he continued to talk, Yuri could barely stand his voice, “After all, I wouldn’t want to take in any stray dogs in my department.” 

“That’s a good one Shepherd, as I wouldn’t want em’ in my field either.” Graves shined in yet again, he participated nothing to the conversation. 

He is good at his job. Yuri noted this fact, but other than that; he was horrible at these conferences. 

Yuri hated that they spoke about him as if he was lesser. He deserved it for being a terrorist, but it was as if he had less human rights than before. 

Perhaps Makarov’s brainwashing hadn’t ever gone away.  

Yuri was still deep in thought as the meeting was over, and he was made to follow Laswell through the building. 

He walked into the task force barrack, and there he stayed behind Laswell. Yuri didn’t feel like speaking up, but Laswell had priorities. 

She spoke up, and repeated most of what the Triad council told him. He is meant to be an extra, and nothing more. 

Yuri was suddenly taken aback when he was approached by a man in goggles. The silent individual signed hands, his scraggly brown hair indicating that he had survived many burns…as the tips of his hair were seared to the point of seeming as if he had—oh wait, those actually are antennae!?

“Hello-?” 

He waved awkwardly at the individual. The same guy signed something else, and looked at Yuri with a tilt to his head. 

“Roach?” 

The strange individual nodded, and seemed to inspect Yuri. 

“Ah don’t mind the lad, he’s a curious fella and wants to know what the hell is wrong with ye’”

A second guy chimed in, he had a buzz cut accompanied with this Mohawk,  and a very light Scottish accent. This is the man that found him and dragged his ass here, John Mctavish, also known as Soap. 

Yuri spoke up, and in short he sighed. 

“Long time no see, I was held up with papers…” 

“I Can tell.” Soap snickered, and seemed to enjoy Yuri’s look of annoyance

“You find me off the street, recognize my tattoos, and take me in only to do paperwork for months.” Yuri sighed, and grumbled with defiance. He was a patient man, but sometimes patience even has its own short fuse. 

“I thought I was the missing link between the cult and you guys?” 

“You are, until the Captain decides to further know if your story matches up. The duplicate paperwork was on purpose, yes, I told you this fact before you ask.” 

A fellow with a black balaclava and skull mask spoke . He was short and blunt. The guy seems to scan for his every move, even before he does it. Beside him, there is this dark skinned individual with a cap on his head. The man wore sunglasses on him while indoors.

That was strange...

The individuals all converse about their time being here. Yuri was mostly silent, and talked mostly with the individual named Roach. 

The more Yuri spent with 141, the more he got used to them. He was grateful to have people he felt at ease with, even if they’d kill him, should he ever have any semblance of turning against them. 

The hours seem to pass by, and a much older brunette with a full mustache and beard combo walks in to complete the members of 141. The captain himself, John Price. 

“Alright listen up everyone!” Price spoke with authority. He is definitely the man you’d want to talk to if you want things to be done right. 

The task force kills supernatural threats, and Yuri himself  knows they are dangerous with a hint of crazy.

“We aren’t field scouting yet, but a new prisoner came in. We just need Yuri to show them that we aren’t just going to outright kill the fella.” 

Yuri’s head finally perked up. All of these briefings were so boring, but he finally had a chance to talk to an old comrade. He wanted to know how Makarov was doing—ugh. Why is Makarov stuck in his head, he should be free from his influence. 

His eyes stared down onto the floor. When the briefing was over, he dragged his feet to follow the team…

His eyes wandered to several containment cells, each holding various objects. His eyes landed on a certain book for a while, it was nothing special. The book seemed to be aged and yellowed out. 

It was a blank book, but red lines started to form into shapes the more he became entranced by it. He didn’t have time to see what went on as he was pulled along the corridor. 

His savior from the trance, Roach, shook his head. 

This strange guy with goggles and a respirator mask was sure helpful. He seemed friendlier than the rest, and his antennae looked almost adorable now. Yuri questioned if he is one of those bug people. He tried to inspect Roach for a while, and kept the same pace as the bug boy.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking through corridors, Yuri and the team stopped in front of a door. 

He felt impending doom settle in his skin, and hoped the prisoner wouldn’t recognize him. It was hard for the Primordials to even get to witness any members of the inner circle, much less any Newblood recruits. 

The chamber door opened with a mechanical hiss. His blood ran cold at the sound. 

He laid his eyes upon the individual. He didn’t recognize him at first, but then the dress started to seep in. 

“Oh, not him…”