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monstersighing · 19 days

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Hello! I sAw your intro and was intrigued. I have a request,- you don't have to if its too much-

imagine AFAB reader who is a devotee to this Eldritch being, seeing them as a deity or a God. As the world grew more modern/OR there's a great war. SOMETHING that lead the other devotees to not believe in this being anymore, bUt ofcouRse, our reader are devoted n loyal to the being, iN which the being will RewaRd the reader

You could get creative with this! I imagine when the reader prays, the Eldritch will speak to them telepathically, (whether to ask for a sacrafice- oR other *orDers~*) SO, reader has a voice kink ;). And soMe other stuff too- like corruption, tentacles, anal, cunnilingus, edging, and over stim pleasee-! (if its too much I understand-)

Bonus if our devotee reader was rlly innocent before hand :)

Thank You!! ~ 💫

Eldritch Being/Deity x AFAB Reader

Title: Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

NSFW, 18+, MDNI

Content: dubious consent, religious kink, corruption, tentacles, voice kink, praise kink, edging, overstim, mindfuck, double penetration (v and a), cunnilingus.

Notes: Thank you for the idea shooting star anon. This is probably the filthiest thing I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoy it.

Constructive feedback from readers is appreciated.

+++

Your God is one of secrets, veiled and hidden, his mysteries not fully known to you.

+++

When the army approaches, the convent Mother hands you a leather-bound book and tells you to run, as far and as fast as you can.

You stop after the sun begins to set. When you look back, you can see a thick plume of smoke rising in the air, above where the convent should be.

You find yourself alone for the first time in your life. All the temples to your God that you pass are ransacked and burned with no worshippers left.

When you pray, there is no answer. But you keep your faith.

You head east because that is where your God first revealed himself. You keep away from the towns, frightened of the men that gather in the streets with their loud voices and assessing eyes. You are innocent. You know what they would do to someone like you if you were found out.

The next evening, you page through the book that was given to you. Between prayers and invocations for your god it is illustrated: a penis twined in a feeler, spitting pearly beads of come from its fat head, breasts gripped by tentacles, men and women drawn with every hole stuffed, heads flung back in ecstasy.

You feel your crotch grow more sensitive and liquid with each page. You lie on your back and your hands roam under your clothes to pluck your nipples, then glide down your stomach to scratch at your thighs. When you can resist no longer, you open your thighs wide and rub two fingers across your soaking slit and push them inside.

You’re bucking against your fingers, almost at your climax, when you hear a voice.

Stop.

You freeze. There you are my little servant, the voice says, pleased.

After that each time you stop to rest and before you sleep your God is there telling you to touch yourself for him. You feel his presence as you push your fingers into your mouth to suck on and then rub at your clit. You chase your pleasure and each time your Lord tells you to stop, you do. Even when your body is shaking from the need to come. Your needy cunt throbs as you make your way to the place you will finally meet him.

You had been kept pure in the convent, awaiting the ritual that would make you your Lord’s bride. But when he demands you debase yourself you follow his command. He tells you where to go, and in these places, there is always someone willing to take your body and use it.

You will offer up your pain and your pleasure to me, your God says, and I will grow strong again.

You kneel in a stable, a cock pushed in your mouth then down your throat until tears leak from your eyes. At an inn, a man spanks you so hard that when you bounce in his lap after, the fingers digging into your ass leave you gasping. In front of a campfire, two men fill your mouth and cunt with their cocks so the movement of one pushes you deeper onto the other; after, a third man slides into your dripping cunt and his thrusts buckle your arms into the dirt. He pulls out to come and stripes your back with his spunk.

Each time, you climax to the rumble of your Lord’s approval in your head and his name on your tongue. The bruises on your knees, the ruined rasp of your voice, the spilt seed dirtying your flesh. All are marks of your devotion to him.

His voice becomes more powerful, a constant buzz filling your head that makes you shake and tremble.

+++

The temple you find is abandoned. But the altar is still there, surrounded by burnt-out candles.

A cloth-covered statue stands in front of the altar. You remove it, fold down to your knees and gaze at your God. The statue is the green of old copper. A shrouded face devoid of detail except for six eyes made of ruby. Numerous tentacles spill forth from under a mantle. You imagine those tendrils tight on your tender flesh.

You strip yourself bare and read the prayer to invoke your God. The cool air of the temple brings goosebumps to your skin, and you shiver. The anticipation of his arrival makes you wet. You clench your thighs around nothing, aching to be filled.

You know he has arrived by the scent that appears, like the air before the storm.

My most devoted one, he says.

The words warm you, but you are afraid to turn. You keep your eyes on the statue and reply, “My Lord”.

His tendrils slide across your arms and pull them behind your back. Your thighs are forced apart. A sticky tentacle pries its way into your mouth and holds down your tongue. Two more slide up your thighs where they rub in an alternating rhythm across your slit, sliding but not pressing in.

The first tentacle pushes in and seems to grow fatter. The stretch burns. The other rubs against your clit hard and insistent, and you whimper. Your hips twitch, wanting more. You feel your Lord touch the edges of your mind, and then push deeper, into your memories, even as the tentacle pushes deeper into your hole.

You are pressed to the stone floor of the temple as the length of the tentacle inside you rams in and out of your cunt with a squelching sound. The one in your mouth twines with your tongue and pulls. You feel the chilled stone floor against your cheek but also –

-- your hair being pulled as your face is fucked and –-

-- your already red and puffy nipples being bitten and --

-- come spattering over your face as you grind your hips back on another man’s cock and --

-- you feel your orgasm seize your body whole and --

Time stops, and you are held on the precipice of your orgasm.

You have made yourself my perfect servant, and you will reap the rewards.

And your orgasm crashes down and your God says, Now we begin.

Tentacles lift you and you are splayed on your back over the altar, your legs held wide. Your hands are released, and your God looms over you. You cannot see his face, only the suggestion of many eyes that makes you dizzy to look at. Your God dips his head, and a ridged tongue appears from under his hood. It rasps over your nipples making you squirm and then trails down to your stomach where it stops.

Hold yourself open for me.

You pull your cunt lips wide for his inspection. You see yourself then, through your lord’s eyes – your chest heaving, and your hole stretched ready to be fucked into - and feel his hunger.

So delicate, he says. So desperate.

His tongue laps against you, the irregular surface causing shocks of pleasure when it flicks over your clit. It wriggles inside you, torturously slow until you are filled to the brim. When his tongue begins to move your hands drop to the cool stone of the dais and you scrabble uselessly for purchase.

You cry out with loss when the tongue is removed, and then again with delight when he sheaths himself in your cunt with the thick tentacle that juts out of his mantle where a man’s cock would be. Two smaller tentacles spread your cheeks and drip fluid across your asshole, circling and pushing in you in a sinuous glide. Your body is full to bursting, and it trembles, overstimulated. The exquisite ache builds and when you climax again, it rips through you with every muscle tensing and then relaxing.

Your now limp body is buffeted by the three tentacles’ increasingly punishing thrusts, and you hear a loud “uhuhuhuh” echoing off the walls of the temple. Your foggy mind realizes that the noise is coming from you.

The tentacles press deep with a final hard grind and fluid spurts from them. The liquid fills your cunt and asshole. The two tenacles in your ass slip out, and you feel the fluid leak out of you and drip onto the floor.

A feeler plucks the hood from your God’s head. Another holds your face so you cannot look away.

You see your God’s face.

It is beautiful.

It is terrifying.

Looking into your Lord God’s many eyes, the most afraid and most joyful you have ever been, you think that this is what you were made for. To service your God in any way he sees fit.

You feel his approval clamour through your body. You come again clenching on the tentacle still spearing your cunt, and shake apart.

Then, all is dark.

+++

After, you crawl down from the altar and stand on legs that are as wobbly as a newborn colt. And it does feel like you have just been born, changed into something new.

Your God wraps you in a robe of silk, embroidered with a coiling design you remember from the convent. Draped in it, you walk out of the abandoned temple with your Lord God’s fluids still leaking out of you.

There is no fear left in you. You know what you must do: go and create new converts in any and every way your Lord asks.

#monster smut #monster lover #monster x reader #monster fucker #monster x human #eldritch being x human #tentacles #tentacle kink #tentacle monster #answered requests #monstersighing #Terato #teratophillia #monster fucking #monster romance

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puppetmaster13u · 3 months

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Hey you know you're sentient Lazarus Pit thing? what if the pit that leaves Ra's goes on to *become* the Batcave Lazarus Pit?!?

Like "I've had enough of you ra's, I'm going to go live with my son." (Jason)

Oh my god that's genius. Another idea: Pit just shows up in Jason's safehouse with Danny under one arm like look i brought you a baby brother :)

#dcxdp #dpxdc #ask answered #Prompts #Sentient lazarus pits #Even funnier if Jason has barely started his whole Red Hood thing when Pit first shows up #Pit: Yah this seems like completely normal humn things #Crime Alley: why does it feel like an eldritch god is now among us this is lovecraftian bs #DANNY IS NOT GHOST KING #No Danny did not make the Pit sapient #No the Lazarus pit did not revive Jason #Yes Pit still treats Ras like their stalker ex and isn't afraid to eat/absorb someone

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yawnderu · 2 months

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more creature!reader plsss ❤️

Fear boners are an actual thing— Simon realized it until now, feeling your cold nose rubbing against his neck, small pants leaving your lips as you sniff him up. How do you respond when a creature materializes itself into your room and climbs over you, pinning you down and simply sniffing you like a search dog? He's never been in a similar situation, yet his throbbing cock doesn't seem to mind just how creepy the situation truly is.

Calloused shaky hands reach for your body, wrapping around your waist only to bring your lower body closer to his clothed dick, subtly grinding against you to test the waters, silently thanking whatever is out there that you didn't bite his face off— yet.

There's something oddly erotic about the way your ectoplasm seeps through his clothes the moment you start to grind against him, long black nails raking dangerously close to his throat, somehow making him even harder despite the growing anxiety.

“Sex. With you.” Despite the way you mainly communicate with clicks and sounds, your speech isn't half as bad. Your free hand starts to slowly trail down, feeling his hard, toned body beneath his clothes until you reach your goal, eyes shining with mirth at the way Simon's breath hitches when you use your pointy nails to destroy the restricting fabric of his pants, freeing his hard, leaking cock.

Perhaps sticking his dick in crazy isn't the right choice, but Simon is way too horny to think with the right head, almost cumming when he feels your cunt wrap snugly around him, not even giving him a second to recover before you're bouncing on his dick, the tip of your nails digging on his shoulders for leverage.

Simon is nothing but a bundle of awful choices that could easily come back and bite him in the ass, his warm head on the back of your head, pulling you closer for a kiss despite knowing you have multiple rows of needle-like teeth. His free hand goes down to your hips, guiding you faster and harder as he starts to thrust up, going as deep as possible inside your wet, needy pussy.

Short nails dig into your cold skin, leaving faint marks that will disappear soon enough, yet he needs something to release the pent-up energy the moment your long, black tongue starts exploring his mouth, instantly making every single muscle in his body tense up as he shoots ropes of hot, thick cum inside you.

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owlbee-writing · 1 year

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TMA season five where everything is the same but Martin has a water bottle and spritzes Jon every time he answers a question ominously

#eldritch boyfriend being cryptic again? treat him like a house cat that won’t get off the counter #Jonathan sims try to answer a question like a normal person challenge (impossible APPARENTLY)#the magnus archives #magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #the archivist #ceaseless watcher #jmart #martin blackwood #the lonely #jonmartin #eldritch boyfriends

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thatdeadaquarius · 9 months

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THE SAGAU FANFIC ONE-SHOT WINNER IS...

🎊🎉🌿Eldritch! Reader AU🌿🎉🎊

Just a small annoucement for the winner, though I'm sure we all saw the results lol

Have a snippet, hope you enjoy!

*disclaimer: subject to change, this is a draft, no finalized version yet.

At least, you were pretty sure of where you were now. But that didn't mean it made any more sense. You hadn't recognized it at first, but the Irminsul was unmistakable after a minute of looking at it and the surrounding blue. The lights were incredible, with sparkles and stars floating up from the ground. Strange, nearly mechanical patterns flared out from its branches. The only difference between the Irminsul in-game versus the real one you see now is the rapid swelling and filling out of its trunk. As you had woken up more and more, ignoring the strange state of your body for now, it had let out weirdly nostalgic noises. Like a computer booting up, and a million other digital pings or tunes as it grew. As you tentatively reach a hand out to touch the trunk, a familiar book materializes. The dark blue pages flip to the first page instead of to the middle of the book. ...isn't this usually the really obscure "Archives" animation from the Paimon settings page? What's it doing here?? In gold writing that hovers slightly above the pages, your (presumed) stats display. The eerily familiar Genshin Impact font rapidly types itself out from left to right. /gamemode: admin *Executing... *Executing... *Loading... *Loading... *... *...Success! *Your gamemode has been changed. " Player." [ADMIN.] EXP: 1000000#%$+??? DEF: ?%@****+~?? ATTK: ??*!!%^<=+? POWERS: - ??";*&%[]\/%? - &%#@?<_++}] - ~`*(-_+}|\\!!??^& ...you decide to stop looking at your... stats, for now. Because more importantly, as you pull your hand back from the book (letting it float in place in front of the Irminsul trunk again), you notice something even more off. Your hand. It's... wrong. As you trail your eyes up your arm, you choke back a sense of panic. Sure enough, when you bring the right arm over to poke and try to smear the seemingly black paint that drenches your left arm, it too is covered in black. Your arms are pitch black. And as you attempt to touch your forearm for more answers, only to phase through it... you begin to think maybe this is not, in fact, paint. And as you realize you are hovering, instead of standing in place, you begin to think this is, in fact, the very real world of Genshin Impact. ...you decide to lay back down on the weird blue ground (?) and take a nap.

Maybe start today over.

☆

I'll be working on asks in the mean time!

But this'll be higher priority/posted soon bc I'm worried I'll forget abt it otherwise lmao

Idk if anybody cares that much, but I'll go ahead and ask just in case:

I hope you guys are having a great week, wherever you may be!

Safe Travels,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr

@yomilyy / @0rah-s / @idontknowwhatimdoingbutweball / @blackstar-gazer

(^^^ dw you'll still get tagged when the actual piece is out! :)

#hope u guys enjoy the snippet!#i hope u all read that little disclaimer before it like that rlly fast salesperson voice lmao #BTW IF U READ THIS UR OBLIGATED TO SEND A SUBMISSION TO JUST SEND ME A CHAT #ANSWER THIS QUESTION: What was the funniest thing you've done in-game?#get nerfed during a cutscene?#fall off a cliff ass-first onto a boss monsters?#bc i did #3 times #genshin isekai #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin imagines #self aware genshin au #gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #sagau eldritch au #sagau eldritch god au

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spacedace · 1 year

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Lian Harper has an imaginary friend. Roy thinks her new friend is imaginary at least. Dani is very much not imaginary as he soon finds out.

Okay, so I don't know much at all about Roy & Lian, so I did some very fast searching to try and get an idea about them for this. Sorry if Roy is out of character!

Have some spooky very slightly eldritch Dani/Elle being a very polite unwanted house guest/imaginary friend:

When Roy had first noticed Lian idly chatting with thin air beside her, he hadn’t thought much of it.

She’d been playing with the latest batch of stuff animals Jason had brought with him last he’d visited, joyfully arranging her plushy hoard just how she wanted them in her overly full room - they were going to have to do another toy purge soon, it was starting to get hard picking a path through to the bed again - and happily talking as she did. It wasn’t anything exactly uncommon. She liked to introduce new plushies to the older ones, make sure everyone knew each other’s names and got along, the way that little kids did. He noticed she seemed to be holding each plush out as if showing it to someone beside her, which was a little odd, but still nothing of concern.

It wasn’t until the tea party - knees bent up to his ears as he curled over the tiny, brightly colored table Kori had gotten her a couple months back - that he was formally introduced to her imaginary friend and put some pieces together.

“Do you want some tea, Dani?” Lian asked, holding out the bright red child-sized tea pot to the one seat at the table that was not occupied by one of his daughter’s favorite plushies or Roy. He watched as she paused, head tilted to listen carefully, before giving a bright smile and pouring a healthy amount of imaginary tea into the cup in front of the seat.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve met Dani yet.” He said, offering out the tiny cup she’d put down in front of him for his own healthy pour of non-existent tea. “Is she a new friend?”

Lian smiled brightly, gap tooth smile bright as she launched into telling him all about her new friend Dani - with an I, Danny with a Y is her big brother! - who fell out of a hole in space right into Lian’s room and who was a ghost princess with superpowers who beat up evil ghosts with her big brother. There are surprisingly few elements from any of the shows she watches or books he’s read to her, and he’s delighted by how vivid an imagination she has in her creation.

It’s easy to roll with imaginary friend Dani. Lian’s friend Marcus had an imaginary friend last year and Roy had learned enough from Marcus’ mother’s exhausted research dive into the topic over play dates to know that Lian making a friend of her own was perfectly healthy. She had plenty of friends, was doing well in school, no bullies or isolation, just a bright creative streak and a boundless enthusiasm for make believe. In a few months to a year Dani the ghost warrior princess from space - green space! There aren’t any floors and everyone flies and there are floating islands and - would be set aside in favor of other forms of entertainment. Just a fond memory for him to recount when she was a little older.

But then things got…strange.

Things in Lian’s room shifted just out of place where they usually were. Then around the house - common areas only though, never his room. Small lost objects appearing on the kitchen counter where they hadn’t been before. A blanket that had been folded on the back of the armchair draped over him when he woke up after falling asleep on the couch. Lian munching on little healthy snacks - a peeled orange, her favorite rice crackers, carrot slices - that no one had made her and that she couldn’t have possible gotten herself. Glow in the dark stars that he had not bought pressed onto her ceiling in the shape of accurate constellations.

That last one had not been the last straw, exactly, but it had been noticed about the same time all the rest of the very concerning little things had been. Talking with Lian about them all only had her explaining that Dani was doing it.

“She said wants to help.” Lian explained, little legs kicking as she focused on her drawing. “She’s stuck here til her brother comes and gets her. She said she wanted to be a good guest while she crashes with us.”

There’s something about that specific phrasing coming from his five year old daughter - crashes with us, not a term Lian’s used before and that he’s pretty sure no one else has ever had reason to use in front of her - that makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Lian doesn’t notice his apprehension, little tongue poking out in concentration as she adds more green to the paper. He doesn’t much care for the strange shape of the spectral figure his daughter depicts, hovering over her squiggly rendition of herself in her bed, the ghost creature being shown holding a green star up to a field of others in what Roy realizes is meant to show Lian’s bedroom ceiling.

Lian pauses suddenly in her drawing, head coming up and tilting as if listening, eyes drifting to look at a point close to the ceiling. “Oh.” Lian says, turning to look back at him with a frown. “Dani says there are bad people coming.” Another glance towards the spot near the ceiling. “She says she’s gonna make em go away if that’s okay with you.”

His stomach cramps with anxiety at the declaration just as he catches a dark figure shifting on the roof of the neighbor’s house, a flash of metal in the yellow glow of the street lights. There’s something cold on his shoulder suddenly, almost feeling like a small hand, the vague impression of something not altogether human at the corner of his vision.

Fuck it. He decides. If Lian’s maybe-not-so-imaginary friend wanted to deal with the people that he was just now aware of surrounding his home and putting his daughter in danger, then he wasn’t going to stop her.

Roy barely has the word yes out of his mouth as he darts up to grab Lian and run her to safety before all the lights in the house - hell, the neighborhood - begin to flicker and he catches a flash of bright, glowing green eyes turning towards the people outside. Distantly he heard a cut off scream and wet crunch and pressed Lian’s face to his chest as he ran for the safe room.

He was going to have to call the League about this one.

#spaced asks and ace answers #dc x dp prompt #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #roy harper #lian harper #dcu #danielle phantom #danny phantom #eldritch dani #dani fenton #danielle fenton

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schwarz-san · 5 months

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Danny is a normal fourteen year old boy in a household in a normal family.

His parents are doctor and engineers and has a smart older sister who likes psychology. He has a goth and a technerd as bestfriends in a normal highschool.

Then all of a sudden he's been kidnapped to be used as a sacrificed to a Eldritch Death God from beyond by some cult that literally came out of nowhere—

---

Danny is a normal kid.

Well, as normal as a kid of a couple with triple doctorates in Chemistry, Engineering and Demonology as well as black belt in multiple martial arts could be anyway .

He has a older sister that is interested in Psychology and proficient with Matial arts.

He's friends with a rich rebellious goth girl who likes plants and a tech genius boy who could probably hack pentagon if wanted that likes meat.

Life is fine.

Then he got interested in demonology and started reading his parents books.

(Maddie and Jack is so proud, their boy is following their footsteps!)

He then read something about a High Ghost King of The Infinite Realm from one of their ancestral books from his dads side. Way back when the Fentons was still called Fentonightingale's and still worked as the greatest and most infamous supernatural hunters around in the olden days.

He got hooked very quickly.

He studied and research more and more about the Ghost King, learning that its existence could be seen through out multiple civilization and mythology all across the globe and has been around way, way back to ancient greece, china, japan, egypt and so on.

He learned that it was considered as a Death God, Eldritch in nature in some cases. That its also represent life and death, balance, Stars, Planets, space and the entire cosmos itself as well as the sea of possibilities, that is simply known as the multiverse in modern culture.

It was known through various titles such as The Balance between Realms, The Absence of Heat, The Protector, The Great One, Halfa and many more with the title High Ghost King of the Infinite Realms being his most notable one.

Danny loves learning about the ghost king and the infinite realms.

On how it was the afterlife, and how it hold all other afterlife with itself. Its pantheon, its customs and its king.

Life is fine.

He graduate highschool with honors and recently got accepted in college, aiming for Engineering.

(He may love studying the supernatural but he still loves space and still defenitely aim to be an astronaut.)

Life is fine.

Then it reality came crashing down all in a blink of an eye.

His family got caught in a rouge accident while visiting gotham, only danny survived.

People who wants his parents tech and research are all hounding danny for their patents, for their tech, their researchs.

And they never stop.

Time passess and Danny is just tired of everything.

He dropped college.

He's pennyless.

Jobless.

His friends are out of reach.

(He heard rumors about the government and high standing people hounding them as well due to their connection with him)

And pretty much after that, he loss just about everything he has.

All except his fenton family heirloom books and his parents researchs.

So he lays on the floor of his crappy rundown apartment, disheveled, thick dark lines under his eyes, and unshaven face. His books, his parents research scattered and discarded around him on the floor along with numerous empty bottles and cans of beer and alcohol. Some bottles were even broken.

Danny is drowning and life is not fine.

Despair clawed deep in his chest as he continue to drowned in just about everything.

Despair

Sadness

Anger

Hate

Loneliness.

So on, so forth.

It was too much. Too much for a simple man like him too bear alone.

Until one day, he just can't anymore.

Broken shard from empty bottle of beer fall on his hand and his mind swirls. Every emotions, every suffering and all of his despair cultivating in to a potent, potent poison like poisonous critters fighting inside a poison jar.

He raised the broken shard in his hand before his bloodshot eyes fell on a discarded open book on the floor.

The Fenton family heirloom.

One that mentions the King of the Infinite Realms.

Then all of a sudden, memories rush back to Danny like water from a broken dam.

His childhood.

His parents.

His sister.

His friends.

His dreams of flying out of the planet.

His obsession with the ghostking and the ghost zone as his family labeled it.

His happy memories.

The accident that take everything away from him.

On how he loss everything.

On how… he doesn't have anything else to lose.

The fact that he doesn't have anything else to lose.

Tired, resigned and resolved, danny made his decision and blood fell to the floor.

Danny is an engineer.

A very smart one infact that he was often compared to the likes of Tony Stark and Reed Richards.

CEO of Fenton Works and formerly, Dalv co. (His Godfather insisted of making Danny inherit everything and Danny doesn't have the heart to refuse a dying man) , which he merged with his parents small company with the same name Fenton Works.

They are advance compared to other tech companies and could keep up to Stark's tech (probably one of the very very few that could keep them on their toes) that continue to ridiculously advance at a terrifying pace due to continuous study of alien tech that Stark manage to observe and get his hands on due to his superhero stint.

(No. Danny isn't jealous. Not by the fact that Stark could go in and out of space at his leasure. Not by the fact that he could go to other planets or the fact that he could meet real life aliens. No, shut up Tuck. Seriously dude, stop laughing–!)

Life is fine, he's engage and happy with his life and his family.

Then he got on a accident.

Sam is in coma, with no concrete time on when she'll wake up.

Her parents were angry of course but relented when they saw that state danny was in.

His arms were crushed and he cant feel anything from them.

The vary same hands that he use to craft. The very same hands that sam compliments whenever he made a new invention that made that hammer dude green with envy and made stark speechless.

Fenton work is declining. It wasn't obvious yet but they are slowly losing footing in the industry. All because he couldn't make anything new.

His parents helped, and the only reason that the company isn't crashing and burning to the ground yet. But even they could not totally prevent the company's slow and steady decline.

They then tried to find a way restore his hands.

They tried a lot of things, cybernetics to medical operations and medication, so on, so forth. They worked. But only by little as everything felt horryfyingly wrong whenever he tried any of his options, but for the sake of the fenton works, danny endured. Everything to ensure sam that everthing is alright the moment she woke up from her com.

It's been half a year since then.

Danny was in his office, typing on his computer with the Fenton Ghost Gloves on his hands that let him do work despite the condition of his hands when Wes suddenly barged to his office holding a flyer, yelling something about a way to permanently heal his hands and a possible way to wake up Sam from her coma.

That immediately got Danny's attention.

With hope in his eye and determination burning in his chest, Danny take the flyer and went to the place right of the bat. Lets just say that it wasn't what he was expecting at all.

Danny new of the supernatural. Kind of hard not to when your family have a been written in history books a the worlds greatest and infamous Supernatural Hunter bearing the Fentonightingale name and with Gods and all the magical shenanigans that keeps happening left and right that the Avengers have to deal with.

Which means that he shouldn't have been surprised that magic is involved with the flyer promising miraculous healing.

It's also strange (hah) to meet Stephen Strange again.

He knew the man, a little arrogant but definitely have the skills and talent to back it up. He also heared that he had an accident similar to his that led him to give up his medical career entirely unlike danny who make do with his fenton gloves.

Now he's a sorcerer, not just any sorcerer but The Supreme Sorcerer and may have been a Avenger now for all he knew. Doctor Strange, then gave him the option to either help him heal his hands or learn magic.

Danny chose magic of course.

(Sam would be so mad the he went on and learn magic on his own without her and Tucker)

Now, he just need to learn the magic to wake her up safely.

A year pass and Danny is a full bown sorcerer.

It baffled everyone how fast he learned that he's already nearing the Supreme Sorcerers level with only just a year. Definitely faster than the progress that Doctor Strange himself shown.

They all shuddered in horror once they heared his family name though, and Danny understand their reaction. A descendant of Fentonightingale himself, the greatest Witch Hunter, having magic is a image that they never would have imagine.

That said, it's also been a month since Sam woke up ( there was so much crying involve) and has been in rehab ever since.

She's mad that he learned magic own his own as expected and demanded that she and tucker learn it as well.

(He couldn't say no to her)

It also a shock to learn about Tuckers potential with magic, something about having Egyptian roots. Sam is jealous. Well, that was until she obtain some form of plant magic and make herself a walking terror to everyone.

(The illegal loggers and companies were not ready)

Meanwhile, Danny's specialty is tapping and looking through diferent dimentions, secretly of course, and space magic as well as exorcism related magic in honor of the Fentonnightingale name.

Life is well.

Until one day when he was scrying through other dimension, he encounter a very very large, endless dimension consisted of green skies. It's a dimension that Danny doesn't recognise so he got intrigue and he knew he should have told Doctor Strange immediately but well… his curiosity get the better of him and he take a peak. Just a little wee bit of peek and—

A massive Eldritch Eye looms and stare back at him.

"Uhhhhh—GAAAAAAAAAAHHHH—!"

It's been Eons and Danny has been The High Ghost King for quite a time.

Probably more considering that time in the Realms never really flows in a linear Fashion.

(He could tell, with all the time he spent at Clockwork's Lair, his position as the High King, dominion over Space and the fact that Time and Space are always intertwined and are lowkey perpendicular to one another so it's nly natural for him to do so)

Danny just got back from his vacation to another universe and may or may not have traumatize a lot of people (Arceus still won't remove the barricade he put at the Hall of Origins, Giratina may be traumatize as well but enjoys watching Arceus suffer so its worth it. Revenge for being lock away in his own lair. Hah!) And is feeling great! Sure Tuck and Sam were mad that he leave them with his own paperworks but can you say no to this adorable face? (Sam and Tuck grumbled as Danny make the Ookemon team he got from vacation to do puppy eyes with him and aim it to Sam and Tucker, like seriously, its not fair! Hes thousand years old how can he stay adorable after all that years!)

They forgave him but demand that they be included along when Danny decide to have another vacation. Though not before stealing his Pokemons and dumping athe backlogged paperworks on his desk.

Great…

So there he is, doing work like he hadn't taken a vacation and a Mt. Everest worth of paperworks.

(Danny doesn't know what he'll do with out his duplicates)

He's done about half of them (what can he say, hes fast and just want to go to bed) when he felt something.

He could feel it. The ripples from countless universes hapening everywhere all at once, they touched the surface of the Infinite Realms and made themselves known. Normally, ripples isn't something to be worried about. There will be people, gods, cosmic beings and such that will always deal with them one way or another so beings from the realms rarely bothered. This one though is different. Because it messes with the realms, something that almost never happened before.

Further more, he could feel something tugging at his core, which only happens when he was being summoned most of the time.

Putting his paperwork aside (oh yes, finally a valid excuse), Danny take a look to the one he could feel is scrying throigh the realms with magic.

He tuen Eldritch and peak back to the rude person peaking without permission.

Danny wasn't expecting to see a version of him scrying through the realms with sorcery of all things.

He shut his Sorcerer version's spell as he heard the man scream in terror.

(Danny snorted, for some reason, he found it hilarious)

Welp, I guess it's about time to visit Clockwork.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x marvel #dp x pokemon #ghost king danny #tw: implied death #summoning #angst #eldritch danny #something is happening #it's Danny's fault somehow one way or another #well #the other version of him at least #clockwork has things to answer #clockwork can't wait to tell him that hes the problem #danny calls bullshit #danny is destined to be connected to the ghost zone one way or another #if he wasn't #the Universe Destiny and Fateand the other forces of the universe he exist in make sure of it

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darth-sonny · 9 months

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Kirby (darth-sonny/rottmnt) 🤝 Kirby (hal laboratories/nintendo)

Related to an incredibly powerful and godlike destroyer of worlds, but due to being raised with love and affection is just an absolute sweetheart

AND THEY'RE PINK TOO!!!

#granted (my) kirby hates the color pink but for (nintendo) kirby they'll make an exception #also i have no knowledge of (nintendo) kirby. that little rotound gumball is related to an eldritch horror??#why am i suprised by that??#rottmnt #tmnt #sonny answers #my art #sonny draws #kirby tag #<- for both!!

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the-magnusinstitute · 7 days

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is it true that if i give a statement to your current archivist he appears in my dreams? what about if i don't sleep? or what if i do sleep, but not enough that i ever end up dreaming?

No, that isn’t true? What? Jon won’t appear in your dreams if you give a statement. Who is saying this??

#magposting #answering asks #jon’s a bit of a bitch but he isnt some eldritch beast??#😭😭 what is going on here #tmagpod #the magnus archives #tma #tmagp #the magnus institute #jonathan sims

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bringthekaos · 6 months

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Not a request but my fav trope is "Viktor does some weird uncanny shit" and Jayce is both horrified and horny

OHMYGOD YES.

Like, they’re sitting in a lab, doesn’t matter whose, and Viktor needs a tool yeah he does amirite or a part or something, and he can’t reach it, so he straight up takes his forearm off and hands it to the Hexclaw a la Woody from Toy Story

And Jayce is just the definition of this

#JayVik #eldritch horror and husbando Machine Herald #machine herald viktor #Jayce talis #arcane #arcane league of legends #asks #ace answers

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the-eldritch-it-gay · 6 months

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Ur pfp is so 😍✨ sorry if this is weird but I just love it sm

Thank you!!! I'm so glad to have it back. I think I posted it properly somewhere but here's a look at it up close, it's my self portrait I drew once + one of the textile collages I made for my art final :)

#Eldritch IT Answers #Anonymous

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faejilly · 9 months

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it can be a fic or meta, but if you're feeling inclined i would love to know more about your opinions for how alec's family gifts in your headcanon would present with even more eldritch elements to it?

oh, I have so many feelings, thank you lovely. Pls enjoy my version of bb!Alec (who is still much too old for his age because he's Alec)

Alec hasn’t even been Marked, still technically a fledgling rather than a Shadowhunter, when he learns that most nephilim can’t hear their weapons sing.

There’s a man come to see his parents, an important man, a dangerous man. But not just in the way nephilim are supposed to be dangerous, though the rhythm of his steps make it clear he can fight as well as any other Shadowhunter Alec knows. There’s something else though, something beyond his skill, something that’s not explained away by the way everyone in the Institute all bow their heads to his titles, Consul and Warrior and Sir.

Alec can hear him, something humming under the man's skin almost like a seraph blade dreaming in its hilt but off-key, a discordant whine that makes Alec want to cover his ears but he knows that wouldn't help; the noise isn’t really a noise, he can feel it in his blood, between his bones, not in his ears at all.

He doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know what he should say, or to who, but he can’t let it go, it pushes in the back of his throat and it has to be let out.

He thinks if he tries to speak and it doesn’t work, the pushing will get worse, will hurt, will perhaps not let him stop, not ever again.

If that’s true, (it is true, he doesn’t know why or how, but it is, he knows, knowledge deeper even than the laws and runes he’s memorized from the Grey Book, the ones that make the power under his skin flicker and flare, waiting for the first Mark to settle it), he can’t do what his father would prefer, and tell his parents in private. He can't risk them choosing not to listen.

If he can’t be discreet, he has to go far enough the other way that he’s inevitable.

Luckily, the hum from the man is just enough that his seraph blade doesn’t like it either, hissing to itself in the hilt when it ought to be asleep, and Alec knows he can tell them about that. He’s worked with the Weapons Master, with his father, his favorite chore is tending to the adamas in the Institute's care.

So he waits outside the armory, plants himself in the middle of the hall when the man and his parents approach, makes sure the door to the armory is cracked so Master Amira will hear him too, might even come out and back Alec up, if he’s lucky.

He waits, and he doesn’t step back against the wall, and his mother is lifting a brow and his father’s mouth is too tight, neither of them impressed that he’s just there in the way like a mundane too stupid to move.

Before either of them can do anything, Alec falls forward, prostrating himself before the man, arms spread and forehead pressed to the tile, because there’s no way to say what he’s going to say without it being an insult, and this is the only way he’ll get the whole thing out before he’s in too much trouble to be allowed to continue.

The man’s footsteps don’t slow, and Alec realizes he’s going to just walk right past him, and he’s offended enough his chest burns, and he almost can’t feel the pressure in his throat anymore.

How dare he ignore a sign of supplication like that? He’s got worse manners than Izzy and no excuse for them at all.

“Consul.” He hears his mother’s voice, low but steady, and the footsteps stop.

She’s as offended as he is, Alec can tell, he can taste it in her voice, but no one else can ever taste her moods like he can, so he’s sure no one else knows. Yet.

But he does, and it’s enough. If she knew what he knew, she’d speak, and they’d listen, they’d have to.

So he’ll have to do as well as she would.

“Begging your forgiveness, sir.” Alec projects his voice as well as he can, for all he’s talking to the floor. He can’t raise his head, not even an inch.

The Consul doesn’t say anything, but neither does he move.

“Why do you not care for your blade, sir?”

There’s a shocked silence, and Alec can hear the weapons in the armory startle awake as his father reaches, and he can feel Master Amira’s axe-blades as she joins them in the hallway.

“What seems to be the trouble, sirs?” Master Amira’s voice is smooth and clean and Alec reminds himself to breathe.

“The Lightwoods are about to lose their heir,” the Consul answers, his voice tight and the hum beneath his skin twisting down a half a pitch, sharp and unpleasant, “unless they explain his behavior very quickly, and very well.”

“I do not think so.” His mother’s voice rises, as pure a tone as any Alec has ever heard from adamas and he realizes he has lifted his head to look at her, that everyone is looking at her, the pair of clerks who follow the Consul everywhere, someone in every doorway down the hall, a silhouette behind Master Amira he can’t quite identify; even in the glimpse he can get of the corner of Ops behind his parents, everyone has turned toward the sound of her voice. “You should answer him, Consul.”

The Consul’s eyes widen, and his shoulders go back, and that feeling of danger rises, rises, and then it’s cut off, a sharp clean silence as Alec’s father takes one, single, step, letting the heel of his boot hit the tile just so. “My son is a Lightwood.”

“Recognized and sworn before an Iron Sister, sir.” Amira adds, and Alec blinks, aware now of what the odd visit last year had meant, the woman in white who had laughed as if she wasn’t dressed for mourning, who had shown him her throwing daggers and grinned when he’d hit the target with them, and given him two pure slivers of adamas to keep, one for each boot.

The Consul has gone still, and his expression is unimpressed, but the hum changes pitch again, and his clerks look nervous, eyes moving too quickly for all they’ve kept their bodies still.

“Sir.” Robert speaks into the silence, and his voice is like nothing Alec has heard from him before. He’s still quiet, still deferential and polite in tone, but it’s sharp somehow, the glint of a knife as it is slowly pulled from a sheath, the light of a seraph blade the instant before it materializes. He’s not really asking a question. “Your answer.”

“My blade has been cared for by four generations of the Dieudonné line, his question is an insult to my bloodline that has earned no answer beyond contempt.”

“Then why is it crying?” Alec doesn’t lower his head this time, for all his neck aches from the angle required to look up at the adults surrounding him. “It is awake, sir, and in pain, and you are not soothing it.”

Master Amira makes an odd choked-off noise he’s never heard before, but the rest of the hall is silent, and the silence grows, deeper and thicker, until Alec realizes he’s looking at his mother again, that they’re all looking at his mother again.

“His words are True.” Maryse’s voice is a hiss, barely louder than the blade, yet it carries. Her voice fills the hallway, perhaps through to Ops as well, perhaps beyond; it feels to Alec like the whole Institute can hear it, this one soft note of revelation whispering between them all. Her voice still rings like a bell against something inside him, something he has no name for but recognizes as the weight behind that pressure in his throat, the balance in his blood that hears better than his ears. “You will answer, or you will be foresworn.”

“You cannot-” one of the clerks attempts to speak, but Master Amira snorts and they give up.

“My parents were very traditional.” His mother’s voice sounds normal now, calm and conversational. But it still tastes like copper to Alec, like blood, and the tension in the hallway doesn’t ease. He eases himself back and up until he’s kneeling. Until he’s ready. “When my brother was forsaken, they dedicated me to the Mortal Sword as the new Trueblood heir.” Maryse smiles, and Alec can feel everyone except his father move back, trying to get away from it. “I absolutely can.”

The Consul looks contrite, bows his head in apology, enough that Alec can feel the other adults relax, just a little.

But the hum beneath Dieudonné’s skin has turned into a scream, his seraph blade wails in grief and fury, and Alec is moving before he realizes it, one hand in each boot, a flick of each wrist, and two slivers of adamas go through the Consul’s throat before he can speak.

Shock holds them all still, the scream rises into a shriek, twists and throbs and fades, at last, though Alec can’t hold in the shudder while it lingers. The Consul’s eyes are still open, but darker than they were, than they should be, and blood is dripping from them as well as his throat, and his ears, and his nose.

He stays standing for too long, still and stiff, and then a drop of blood hits the floor, one, then another, and finally he sways, and falls. His mouth opens as he hits the ground, and a dark cloud rises from it, smelling of sulfur and steel and something green that Alec will recognize five years later the first time he handles angelbane.

The former Consul jerks, his joints moving wrong in his death-throws, something too sharp to each convulsion, something other.

“Fuck,” someone Alec doesn’t know breaks the silence two long heartbeats after the body stops moving. It’s only then that he sees the rune that has now appeared, a Circle just like Hodge’s, broken by twin spears of adamas piercing through it, one on each side.

No one moves for yet another heartbeat, and Alec can’t look away from the man on the ground, the man who clearly wasn’t just a nephilim, not anymore, not like the rest of them. The man he’d killed. He’d killed the Consul of the Clave, in front of witnesses, in the middle of the Institute, before his parents…

He can feel a shared look over his head more than he can see it, and then his mother’s hand is on his shoulder and his father is calling out orders and she’s leading him away and his footsteps are running to Ops and an alert alarm is sounding, one Alec can’t hear properly through the blood rushing through his ears, and he’s relieved when his mother takes them both to his room, and tucks him into bed, and shields his door with her personal rune as well as every warding rune he’s ever seen. He smiles at her in thanks, and lets himself go.

She’s there again when he wakes, and at first he can’t remember anything. He starts to move, and feels the tug of an IV, the rattle of the stand next to his bed shifting with his movement. He blinks, and his mother sighs. It sounds like relief, and he blinks again even as she moves close, reaches out and brushes his hair off his forehead.

“It’s been a long time since an heir manifested two blood gifts at once, especially before receiving his first Mark.”

Alec had opened his mouth to… he wasn’t sure, probably apologize for being lazy after committing murder and then not even cleaning the ensuing mess up himself, but that stops him. He shuts his mouth, swallows, blinks for a third time, trying to get his thoughts to line up into something more coherent than what?

“Is that what I did?”

His mother smiles, and it’s as far as possible from her expression in the hallway, warm and soothing and grateful. “That’s what you did.”

“Oh.”

He lets that sink in, lets the implications and conclusions and possibilities trickle their way through his thoughts. “Does that mean I’m not gonna be buried at a crossroads for killing the Consul?”

His mother winces, leans forward until her forehead rests against his, and he feels dizzy and lightheaded with something almost like joy as he recognizes what she’s doing as comforting, for both of them. “Oh baby, no.”

He closes his eyes and lets himself feel the weight of his mother being his mother before anything and everything else, and doesn’t even fight it when he feels his eyes getting wet and his skin flushing with relief and confusion and love and who knows what else.

“You will never be in trouble for what you did to Malachi.” That chime was back in his mother’s voice as she whispered against his skin, and it soothed him in a way nothing else could, resonating against his worries until they faded. “You saved the entire Clave from whatever he would have done in the Circle’s name, whatever he could have done to our Institute with the Curse Valentine had put in him when he was discovered. The Inquisitor is going through the entire Council, soul by soul, to make sure she finds them all, and it’s only because of you that she has the power to do it.”

Oh.

Eventually she lifts her head, and her eyes are damp too, he can see it when she blinks. “But you will have to go to the City of Bones and meet a Silent Brother and the Soul-Sword.” Her smile quirks, and he realizes there’s pride there in her expression, on top of a complex mix of emotions that don’t make any more sense than his own. “Though that might be less scary for you than it was for me at your age, if you can hear the Soul-Sword as well as you hear seraph blades.”

“I can hear all the weapons in the armory.” Alec corrects before he can think about it. “You can’t?”

His mother laughs, short and damp and beautiful. “Even your father can’t, and he’s the only Lightwood left who can call his weapons to him. You’ve got a stronger Blood-Gift than he does.”

“I do?”

His mother nods. “Your father asked me to tell you he’s sorry he didn’t tell you so earlier. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, either.”

What.

This entire conversation is so far outside of anything he’s ever felt before, and his bones feel too light-weight under his skin and he doesn’t understand. “Why?”

“Did you consider telling me or your father about what you heard from Malachi’s blade?”

Alec frowns, and his mother lifts a hand, palm facing him, stopping him before he can protest the change of topic. “I promise I’m answering your question, please.”

His parents apologized, and his mother said please to him, like she meant it.

He shook his head from side-to-side. “I knew you’d want me to, but.” He stops. He doesn’t know how to explain that feeling, that pressure that he still suspected would have broken him if he’d tried to speak the truth and been told to keep quiet. His mother’s fingers brush against the line of his throat, and his eyes widen as he stares up at her, as he sees a tear overflow and slowly slide down her cheek as she nods, just a little, and he realizes she knows exactly what he’s not saying.

“We taught you we couldn’t be trusted, so you had to act alone.” There’s that chime again, and another tear falling. “But that’s all going to change now.”

It’s a promise, he knows, he can feel it. “What is that?”

“That is the Trueblood gift. My father could make any vow magically binding just by witnessing it, and his father could tell when someone stated something untrue, even if they believed it themselves.” Her mouth quirked. “He called it tasting lies.”

“Can you do that?”

“No.” She closes her eyes, too slowly to be just a blink, and this time when she sighs he can feel the weight behind it. “I can hear Truth sometimes, ride it, verify it, make sure everyone else believes it.”

She opens her eyes, and there’s guilt now, and grief, dark and deep and endless. “Valentine recruited your father and I personally, and I believed everything he told me about what he was doing, and why, and because I believed him, because there was a Trueblood supporting him, a lot of people who wouldn’t otherwise have let him be… let him get away with, well. Everything.”

Alec goes still. He can tell she’s telling the Truth still, and he doesn’t want to know that, doesn’t want to feel it, but he can, he does, and he’s never ever going to be able to forget what this feels like, this truth that turned his whole life into a lie that he’d never known he was telling.

He swallows down the nausea, the outrage, and waits.

“But when your father told me what he learned about what Valentine was really like, I couldn’t believe the lies any more. We turned ourselves into the Clave, and they only let us back because I rode the Truth when I vowed that we would be loyal to the Council, when I vowed on my bloodline, back to my parents and.” Her voice drops, lower and softer. “And down to my son, who is a Trueblood too.”

“And then you lied to me about it.”

“The Council forbid anyone from talking about the Circle.”

He gives her the look that line deserves.

She’s almost trembling, her hands held too tightly by her sides. “We didn’t want you to have to bear the weight of our mistakes.”

“But I do.” He looks at her, really looks at her, in the same way he looks at the weapons in the armory, and the hilts strapped to the side of visiting nephilim, and the way he’d listened to Malachi and heard Valentine’s Curse in his blood.

Alec can almost see the pattern of the fragile scaffolding of his mother’s emotions, suppressed down under her skin, forced to only exist between the fine lines of her plans, of her will and desire and ambition and pain, all constraining her gift into something so much smaller than it could have been. The foundation of that scaffolding seems shaken, it feels fragile. But it hasn’t moved, hasn’t fallen. She regrets how he feels, sincerely means to change, but she hasn’t, not yet. It’s all still there.

“Every single one of them has been put on my shoulders, and because you hid them from me I thought all that weight was mine, was me, that I deserved every harsh word and mistrustful look, and every single one of them was about you.”

Maryse rears back, but they both hear the Truth in his voice, the sound that resonates between his bones, that builds and forces its way out, that refuses to be silenced. That he is never ever going to try and silence. “You can go.”

She opens her mouth. He lifts his chin, and she concedes. “Amira will take my place with you until the next medic visit.”

He almost frowns, wondering what she means. “You burned through almost all your angelic energy.” She tilts her chin and he glances sideways at the IV bag, half full of something that isn’t just saline, judging by the color of the label. “And you’ve been asleep for almost three days.”

Three? he mouths, more to himself than her, but she sees it, understands it, nods.

There are circles under her eyes, and he can hear the exhaustion she'd been trying to hide when she speaks again. “Let us try and take care of you this time.”

He nods, accepting her peace offering for what it is, and she leaves.

He settles, waits until the door opens again to let Master Amira in.

Only then does he close his eyes, knowing he’s safe, knowing she’s there for him. He knows he’ll forgive his parents when they come back, knows that if they try at all he’ll let them be his parents again. But he’s not sure if they’ll ever earn back his trust.

But he can trust Master Amira, and he’ll make sure to tell Izzy the truth, make sure she knows exactly which consequences are hers, and which are not. He’ll do the same for Max once he’s old enough to talk, and they’ll never have to bear the weight of their parents’ mistakes the way he did, never be expected to fix everything the Clave and Circle broke just because they were offered the mercy of living.

He smiles to himself, pleased with that decision. He can hear Master Amira settling down into the chair next to his desk as he lets himself relax, can hear the soft sweet chime of his adamas slivers being returned, can feel the familiar low rhythm of her axes. He’s always thought they seem like contented cats, purring as they rest against their chosen partner, but today it’s like they’re purring for him, too, soothing him back to sleep.

#alexanderlightweight #jilly writes #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #maryse lightwood #robert lightwood #malachi dieudonné #valentine morgenstern plotting even in absentia!#jilly answers #tangential tuesday #eldritch angels #make very weird nephilim #just saying #not on ao3

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