#eldritch hall au

[eldritch-hall-asylum]

Happy (very) belated new year! I notice it’s a bit quiet here, and your last post here you reblogged a post saying you wanted asks, so here I am! Any headcanons for Eyeless Jack?

Shshdhshs its okay!!!! :33 I've been kinda busy working on other stuff atm (you can kinda see what I fixated on if you check my ao3).

Hhhh, anyway...

Uh, EJ,,,, they're a tol boi. Long, lanky, leggy, kinda awkward and gangly at times (like a baby giraffe, or bambi on the ice).

Jack has to be holding something in order to fall asleep. It just makes him feel safe.

Xe makes very impressive lick mats for Seed, because she deserves it (she's a very good gorl).

#creepypasta #creepypasta au #creepypasta fanfic #eldritch hall au #eldritch hall #eyeless jack #jack kingsley #jack kingsley windroe grossman #seedeater

[sanriosratz]

Dorothy/Ferris headcanons!

@eldritch-hall-asylum I think the name ‘Ferris’ would be cute! However, I’m not against ‘Dorothy Ferris [Windroe]’… Anyway, I’d love to hear your headcanons, too (yes, this is my new hc fixation lol)

➤ Ferris is a multipurpose service/assistance dog! He is mainly for psychiatric/autism purposes, but does/can alert and respond to fainting/PoTS episodes.

➤ His tasks include, but are not limited to:

↳ ༉‧₊✎ Retrieve dropped items/carry items

: ̗̀✎ alert and respond to fainting episodes

: ̗̀✎ grounding/DPT (Deep Pressure Therapy) during panic/anxiety attacks, meltdowns/overloads/shutdowns and flashbacks

: ̗̀✎ interrupting panic/anxiety attacks, dissociative episodes, flashbacks, and self-harming behaviours (eg. scratching, skin picking, etc.)

: ̗̀✎ crowd control (circle handler to create space)

: ̗̀✎ medication reminders

➤ Ferris helps guide Ciero away from her triggers as well as create a physical barrier between herself and strangers/crowds (tasks: crowd control and laying between Ciero’s legs to create space between her and people behind her).

➤ He can also provide an excuse for Ciero to leave a situation if she’s stressed/uncomfortable/triggered/etc.

➤ Is 10000000% the bestest and smartest and goodest boi!

➤ Ciero might dye his tail, but I’m unsure if that’d work on Ferris’s fur?

#creepypasta #creepypasta au #creepypasta fanfic #eldritch hall au #eldritch hall #ciero #ciero windroe #splendorman #splendor man #splenderman #splender man #eha hc #eldritch-hall-asylum

[eldritch-hall-after-dark]

So... if I were to write about Elspeth and Richard hate-fucking, would...

Would you guys read it?

Cuz I've got the idea and the motivation.

I just need to know if that's something you're interested in.

#creepypasta #creepypasta au #eldritch hall after dark #creepypasta fanfic #mild un osha compliance #mild spice tw #mildly nsft #mod speaks #mod posts

[prince-kallisto]

Missingno! Larry AU Evidence

This is an AU/Headcanon made by johnchurch on AO3, this was all inspired by them and I really fell in love with it, please support them! (I hope it’s okay mentioning you)

I wanted to share this AU and give some “evidence” to support it for fun. Larry deserves to have some glitch eldritch vibes <3

The iconic Missingo from Red and Blue had a Bird/Normal typing! The Bird Type was a scrapped typing for Red and Blue, which became the Flying Type. Larry specializes in both Normal and Flying types due to being a Gym Leader and an Elite Four member. This is probably a reference to Normal/Flying being the most common dual typing.

Missingno’s party sprite appears as the “generic man” NPC sprite. Larry the Exceptional Everyman…

Missingno is very pixelated with lots of squares and rectangles. Some believe the white spaces with a pixel in the middle are its eyes. Larry is the only character in Scarlet and Violet to have square eyes

Missingno causes a lot of glitches in areas like the Pokémon League Hall of Fame, making all the entries become scrambled or straight up ineligible. In the Scarlet and Violet Books, there are pages that are missing words and letters in every single copy of that book. *Squints at Larry working at the Pokémon League for 3 different jobs*

This is a bit of a joke, but when describing Missingno’s appearance, many websites say it’s shaped “like a backwards L.”

L for Larry haha

Larry’s Gym Floor has this odd clipping effect going on. It’s more noticeable once you send Pokémon out in the Gym Floor. Depending on the severity of glitches in your game, Pokémon can sink halfway into the floor! Interesting how this effect is only seen in Medali Gym! (His Gym vs Elite Four room for comparison)

The Elite Four battle music has become infamous for somehow glitching, repeating the first few notes over and over again. It’s caused by a Memory Leak glitch, and it’s very unnerving to battle with it playing haha. What did you do, Larry? Were you in a bad mood?

Looking at the slowed-down animation of Larry’s Pokeball throw kinda freaked me out. I love his aggressive throw, but looking at it carefully, it looks like there’s a frame where his head is detached from his body? Once I noticed it, I can’t unsee it! It’s a lot more noticeable when watching the actual animation. Please be more careful with your vessel, Larry

This glitch was so funny to me, but when battling Top Champion Geeta, a glitch can occur where Larry appears at the edge of the arena. He just…watches you battle, unmoving. It’s so perfect haha. Larry glitches his way in to support you and watch you beat up his boss

I know this is just classic Pokémon animation, but Larry pulls all his Pokeballs from his breast pocket instead of a belt or pants pocket. I’ve always loved this animation for its ‘misdirection’ trick. He goes to adjust his tie, and in a flash he pulls out a Pokeball! Considering he has several teams of Pokémon,how do they even fit? Missingno glitches the 6th item in your inventory, giving you 128 copies of that item. People have used this glitch to get tons of Masterballs or Rare Candies. Perhaps Larry’s pocket has these infinite capabilities as well? (also he looks so cool in this screenshoot!)

I love how…aggressively normal Larry is. Average office worker, average tired overworked man, normal personality , normal appearance, normal normal normal. I’d like to imagine that Missingno!Larry tries so hard to behave like a normal person, to the point he’s a bit abnormal haha. If you think about it, his title of the ‘Exceptional Everyman’ fits very well. Exceptional can mean “outstanding,” but also “unusual” and “abnormal.” His title is very deceptive

This AU is so entertaining ! Having this sort of mindset makes the glitches in the game a lot more fun. All the twisted movements, glitched out faces, and see-through landscapes may all be from the forbidden presence of an ‘unremarkable’ Missingno.

I’d love to hear some other ideas/evidence y’all have! Thank you johnchurch for my new obsession haha, it’s such a cool idea

Edit: I’m definitely making a Giratina! Larry AU because the reblogs are right, it is too funny to pass up. The real banishment is being stuck in a 9-5 office job and working two side jobs to make ends meet

#pokemon larry #gym leader larry #elite four larry #missingno #I love eldritch Larry he deserves to be a little odd #AUs like this or the Giratina or Zoroark Larry AUs are so much fun #Larry is like ‘ppl just want something weird or bizarre’ #and he’s right I can’t just let him be completely normal #kallistopost #theory post #kinda

[tenderlywicked]

I got so impatient that I started filling my own prompt. Wild Blue Yonder AU: the Doctor and the Master get stuck with the Not-Things :)

It’s not like the Master has something against eldritch beings per se. Arms that are too long or a dropping jaw—it’s not as disturbing for him as it clearly is for the Doctor. He’s been an eldritch horror himself, not just once, so he can sympathize. Moreover, appreciate the ability to adapt and survive at any cost. It’s a matter for envy rather than scorn or dread. He’s not even that shocked to see his own face on someone else: after all, there had been six billions of him once.

But it’s plain ridiculous that one of these not-things is able to imitate his speech patterns almost perfectly, and yet gets it wrong how many hearts and knees he has. It’s a sign of hackwork, and he despises that. On the other hand, in the current circumstances such incompetence is in his favor. It means the creatures aren’t unbeatable, they tend to miss the most obvious things.

He’d be more content and optimistic about it, though, if the Doctor hadn’t been clumsy enough to get separated from him, ending up on some other level of technical corridors. It’s nothing but irritating because without the Doctor there’s no way out: the TARDIS will come back for him. He isn’t to blame for the spaceship’s baffling reconfigurations of course, but still, he should have been more careful.

To the Doctor’s credit, he’s now probably rushing about, trying to find his missing companion, despite the row they’d had before the TARDIS had run off on them both. (The Master is still of opinion that this time the Doctor’s indignation had been apropos of nothing. Yes, he’d summoned the Toymaker into the universe, so what? He’d played his final game and won, he’s alive thanks to that, and the blasted universe is fine too, more or less, despite a few tiny time paradoxes all of this had caused. Should he have just died from a stab in the back instead? No, thank you very much.) Anyway, no matter their disagreements, the Doctor will be looking for him, desperately, the Master is sure of that. Instead of doing the same, he unhurriedly goes searching for something else.

They’d discovered the bridge and the control rooms, but surely, there must be living quarters somewhere on the spaceship. It’s not as big as the Mondasian one, so it doesn’t take the Master much time to locate them, along with what he’d been hoping to find—another set of surveillance equipment. He turns it on, and there it is, the second dot on the screen, the Doctor still braving the labyrinthine corridors on his own.

The Master fumbles with settings and finally finds the right camera in the hall the Doctor is about to pass…right in time to see him stumble across the false Master. And is it really that surprising what happens next? There’s no sound, but the Doctor’s face is quite expressive—it’s easy to see when wariness turns into wavering. Then, sequentially, come incredulity, hurt…and hope?

“Oh for fuck’s sake, still falling for sweet talk,” the Master mutters aloud as the Doctor takes a timorous step towards not-him, only for what he must expect to be a reunion hug to turn into a chokehold.

The creatures won’t kill him, they know he might regenerate, the Master tells himself, switching between the cameras as he follows the Doctor being dragged back to the bridge. They are more likely to keep him for further research.

What had his doppelgänger told the Doctor to earn his trust so quickly? Theta, I missed you so much? The Master tries to persuade himself it’s just curiosity, but also, deep inside, he knows there’s a bitter feeling too, akin to jealously: he never seems to say the right words that would convert the Doctor to his side so easily. One of his silly regenerations had wanted to stand with the Doctor, but would the Doctor ever stand with him?

Maybe he’s not entirely fair, maybe that’s just his old resentment speaking. In his place, the Doctor would undoubtedly rush to rescue at once. In his own place, the Master chooses to see what happens next. He just has to find out how to turn on the sound.

That's the first part, more horrors are to come ;)

#doctor who #the doctor #the master #fourteenth doctor #simm!master #saxteen #thoschei #doctor/master #doctor who 60th anniversary #wild blue yonder #the doctor and the master #doctor who fanfiction

[kora-kat]

Thinking about a tma pokemon au.

Michael unknowingly bringing his stantler into the distortion with him. After he is consumed, you can occasionally see a twisted deer-like creature roaming the halls of the distortion.

Gertrude having an elderly absol named Adam that ends up outliving her. He sleeps in Jon's office and refuses to leave unless vanishing into the tunnels. Jon later becomes his legal trainer, but Adam doesn't obey him at all.

Jon got a pokemon way later than normal after collage. He now has an eevee named Commander. Jon isn't very good at being a trainer but Commander loves him anyway. Like most eevelutions, Commander evolves with a close bond with Jon. Unfortunately having a close bond with an eldritch creature can cause a new type of evolution...

Martin has a swablu named Dandy. She likes to chase Commander around for fun. In season 4 Martin rarely takes Dandy rarely comes out of her ball. He doesn't want to find out what happens to pokemon in the lonely.

Peter has a really messed up wingull. It is strangely still and its colors are faded.. He doesn't seem attached to it and it doesn't seem attached to him.

Sasha had a alola vulpix named Snowflake. Everyone finds it odd when suddenly Snowflake starts growling at her trainer. Tim adopts her in season 3

Tim has a pacharisu named Erin. Erin was banned from being out of pokeball on institute grounds after trying to attack Elias's Alakazam.

Admiral is a purugly. He was Georgie's first pokemon. She also has a punkaboo and duskull. Since she can't feel fear, she gets along really well with dark and ghost type pokemon.

Melanie wanted to be a trainer when she was young, so she does have a full team. However, since keeping a full team in London is expensive, most live at a boarding facility for trainers run by a professor. She keeps a psyduck named Binky as a pet. He's a little dummy and Melanie would die for him. The rest of Melanie's team are poison and steel types.

Bassira and Daisy, as cops, both have dog pokemon. Bassira has a growlithe named Amon. Daisy has a lycanroc named Marigold. Marigold is a pokemon avatar of the hunt. She has to be muzzled or she will bite you. Daisy has regrets.

Elias can afford to have a full pokemon team. He is good at battling but doesn't have a very strong connection with any of his pokemon. He has many, many, pokemon over the years and the magic has worn off. That being said, he does seem to favor his yanmask.

#pokemon #tma #the magnus archives #tma pokemon au #tma au

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

Here are some TMA fic recs as requested! I tried to give a variety.

just trying to get home in one piece by heartshapedguy - time travel au where Jon and Martin are sent back to before Prentiss’s attack on the institute - very comforting fix-it fic (with a side of hurt/comfort)

Scritches for the Archivist by junal - Jon becomes cat - que shenanigans - Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker - Crack treated seriously, there is some hurt/comfort but also fluff!

Wait, since when does he have a degree? by LynxB3 - Jon has a master's in archival sciences, it changes many things - proper archiving (may still contain inaccuracies), unfinished

Many happy returns by Melanie_D_Peony - The archival gang go to an ice cream parlour for Martin’s birthday party - Set early season 1 with sweet Martin/Jon pre-relationship moments

Honourable mentions:

breakdown on aisle seven by wastefulreverie - Season 4 Daisy + Jon angst and hurt/comfort

These Statements Certainly Have Their Quirks by thatforgottenbasilisk - BNHA/TMA crossover (the fic that got me into TMA) - Series of statements similar to the podcast's style, featuring BNHA characters

oh wow, this is so kind of you, thank you!!!

while we're here, let me recommend a few fics i've already gone through.

ceylon, assam, and darjeeling by Sciosa G 20k

People do not bring Jonathon Sims tea. Martin Blackwood, newly-minted archival assistant, has apparently not received this memo.

(absolutely loved this one, just gorgeous prose.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing T 133k

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes. 

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?” 

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it. 

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up. 

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--” 

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(probably one of the best instances i've seen of crack treated seriously, and i love that jon's asexuality plays a key role in breaking the sex pollen curse.)

rituals by doomcountry T 8k

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

(gosh i love eldritch archivist jon who's still entirely in love with martin.)

#tma #jonmartin #ask #blrblob

[cookiepie111]

Priest/ darling and eldritch könig Au

Walking through the base discussing plans with price and seeing something coming down the halls, that thing isn't human!? Why were letting it walk around like this?!

Ohhh,he'd have to get rid of that pest

#könig #könig x reader #cod au #rambling #writing #könig x black reader #eldritch könig #He's like damn i gotta kill her #call of duty fic #cod fic #könig cod

[redactedgoose]

Here's my piece for the first day of Phantasy Phest- Fantasy Eldritch AU @phantasycentral

Danny stares up at the building. It's nondescript, just some random office building in Chicago.

Or, so one would think.

He takes the last few steps to the door, raises his hand, and knocks.

Truth be told, some random, nondescript office building in uptown Chicago wasn't exactly what he was imagining when he agreed to go to the Conclave.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and stares up at the door, waiting to be let in.

Becoming the King of Ghosts wasn't something that he had planned on. Finish middle school, go to high school, go to college for something STEM related and get his master's degree or go to one of the NASA pilot schools, and be an astronaut. That had been the plan.

And then... zap, and ghosts were real and also his problem.

Danny sighs and knocks again.

"You know, if you don't let me in I'll just phase through the door," he calls.

He's in his human form right now, which is probably why they're ignoring him. Though, it is his first time at the Conclave, and the first time a ghost has been to one in a very long time.

The door opens soundlessly; no one stands there. Alright, he can appreciate the creepy aesthetic.

He strides in through the door, head held high. As he crosses the boundary, he lets his transformation wash over him. His steps lighten as his hair does, gravity and color both bleeding from him. The faint chill and weight of his crown settles over his head and his shoulders become just a tad bit heavier as his cloak manifests out of the aether, the fabric-but-not flaring out behind him as he walks.

The inside of the building is nothing like the outside. The plain, ordinary facade outside is carried over for about seven or eight steps before he comes upon a shimmering barrier. Stepping through it feels like walking through a cool mist, faint popping spreading over his skin from the magic in it.

Past that point, the interior design matches up better to his imagination of the locale of the Conclave. It looks like the inside of an old castle, the dingy grey linoleum switching to a warm, wooden floor covered in a blood red carpet. The walls are stone instead of the off-white painted drywall, stretching high up to thick, wooden beams that bracket the tall, arched ceiling. Torches are positioned at regular intervals on the walls, burning with a pale purple flame; heavy and dark metal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, that same pale purple flame burning there instead of any candles.

He continues to walk down the red carpet—ha—to the massive, sweeping staircase at the end of the hall. The thing is made out of what looks like the same stone as the walls and the carpet continues up the stairs to the large, arched double doors.

Honestly, if it wasn't for his innate sense of space, he'd think that the magic barrier was a teleportation spell. As it was, it was only thanks to just that that he knew this was a sort of pocket dimension. He was in the same general area relative to where the building was, but slightly... to the left? Tilted. A little liminal, which he liked. He wasn't too familiar with the living's magic, but even he could tell that this was an impressive feat.

Danny finishes his ascent, finally standing in front of the double doors. They're similar to the chandeliers in that they're made out of that same dark metal. It couldn't be iron, though.

He opens the doors with a push of his telekinesis and strides through. A massive, circular table seating eleven greets him, the marble covered by a black runner and topped with more of those silver light candles in an intricate candle holder.

"Hello," he greets the assorted eleven mildly. "You have me at a disadvantage. My name is Danny Phantom. You all are...?"

Oh, some of them bristle at that. He can taste their irritation and incredulity. If he came back to another Conclave, they'd get to know very fast that he wasn't one to be respectful unless it was earned. Yes, these people were the rulers of their respective species. No, Danny didn't give a shit.

Surprisingly, one's threshold for respect and the like tended to shift after getting into fistfights with gods at the tender age of fourteen.

The woman at the head of the table speaks up first, raising her chin. "I am Queen Adelaide of the Witches. We tend to the this hall that hosts the Conclave, and bid you welcome to our table."

Her purple eyes flick over to look to the man next to her. He's thin-boned and almost waifish, reminding Danny of a hummingbird. His ears are also long and come to a point, but the feathers that sprout from his brows and wrap around his temples to mix into his hair strike out elf.

"I am King Ashok of the Avians."

Danny inclines his head to him. Just as before, though, the next person starts to talk almost immediately afterwards. He's tall, even sitting, with broad shoulders. His face is long, and his thick, bushy sideburns stretch down to his chin.

"King Bedwyr of the Werecreatures. I represent all the Were tribes."

It makes sense, since his eyes are also an inhuman amber gold. A werewolf, perhaps? Or a werebear? Danny dips his head once more. He's not too well-versed in were politics, since the Dead tribes are fiercely independent and territorial. Wulf was a bit of an outlier in that regard.

"Welcome, Phantom," the next woman says with a smile. It's sharp, though, and the lack of a title before his name is quite telling. "I am Myrto, Queen of the Sirens."

Ahh, alright.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he returns, just as mildly as his greeting. "I've always enjoyed talking with Queen Peisinoe when visiting her domain in the Realms. She's told me many stories about her time amongst the living. She and Lady Pandora are some of my dearest friends."

It becomes a little difficult to hold onto his mild smile as her eyes widen slightly and her face twists like she's bitten into a lemon, though.

He might be young, but he's been dealing with ghost politics for a while now. He can recognize the snub and return fire just as well as any of these people.

Peisinoe had told him how bratty the current Siren Queen was, though, so he's not too surprised.

"'ello!" The next woman, a chubby and red-cheeked lady with long, brown hair and a fur coat smiles at him. "I'm the Queen of the Selkies. Just call me Boann, though, King Phantom."

"Call me Danny, then," he returns, smile growing and morphing into something a little more genuine.

"I am King Celal of the mer. I represent all from under the water. It is a pleasure to meet the keeper of the Below Deeps."

Right. In the mers' religion, that's their afterlife. It's a pretty cool area, even if Danny doesn't often go. He makes the water too cold for some of the people living there.

"Well met, King Phantom." The next man looks similar to King [Avian], but without the feathers and with longer ears. His hair's long and thin and his skin is almost unhealthily pale. "I am the Erlkönig, the Elf King. You may call me Eadric."

"Well met."

"I'm Enitan, King Under the Mountains. Nice to meet ya!" The dwarf king is taller than Danny would've imagined, but the impressive, braided strawberry blond beard he's sporting fits right in.

The next person starts to talk even as Danny's still nodding at the Dwarf King.

"I am Verner, King of the Dragons." The man's eyes are like liquid gold and slitted like a cat's. Faint golden scales trail across his pronounced cheekbones up to and across his forehead, though it's harder to see them there thanks to the King's blond bangs.

"I am Doroteia, Queen of the Nymphs," the final woman says. She wouldn't look out of place in the Realms with her green skin and plant matter hair, vines and leaves cascading down her back.

"And finally, I am Ciprian, King of the Vampires." The last man says. He sits next to the Witch Queen, on the side opposite to the Avian King. They almost look like siblings, with the same pale skin—though Adelaide's was paler—and long dark hair. The only other distinguishing mark between them was the Vampire King's blood red eyes and more angular features.

"Thank you all for the welcome," Danny says, nodding to everyone in general.

He floats forward from the doors to the table, not putting on the pretense of walking. There's one open space there, but no chair.

Danny stops a short distance from the table. The others' chairs look standard and not like they'd brought or made them, so it wasn't a test of any kind.

Hm. Well...

"Queen Adelaide, you bid me welcome to your table. Was that merely a platitude?" He asks, perfectly and unnaturally still.

Tsk, tsk. Offering hospitality and then not being hospitable was quite the dangerous business—she of all people would know, keeping an elf in her council.

"Phantom," Adelaide starts, a pretty smile gracing her face despite the snub she just dealt, "You are the first of your kind in centuries to grace our halls. Please forgive us, of course, for being..." she trails off slightly, a tilting head cascading dark hair off her shoulder. "Hesitant."

"Oh?" Danny fishes.

"You wear an oversized crown, child," Verner butts in, chin high and draconic pride very clearly showing through. "More to that, you look human. What proof is there that you are whom you say you are?"

Ah. Ah.

Danny takes a breath. Then, he... relaxes. The boundaries between living and dead, thin that they already are in him, dissolve down to the merest atom, a whisper of a breath on knife's edge. Power whips about him with enough force to tousle his hair and toss the ends of his cloak about even as it shifts, lengthens, the night sky growing from his shoulders. His form unspools from his remnants of mortality, growing and bathing the space in him. Nebulae dance around the edges of the room, a starlight glow emanating from his form. The chill of deep space is contained easily enough, massing with the inexorable pull of gravity that makes up the dark of his chest and limbs. His crown floats over his head, burning the cold blue of ice planets, spikes of the stuff climbing in delicate spires. Small satellites orbit his crown—four of them, all different colors.

For all that Danny was starstuff, his eyes always were of the Realms. Green, green like the air and the earth and the everything that made up the Realms. Pure ectoplasmic green burns in his eyes, bright enough to be supernovae in their own right.

"Is this what you imagined? Am I properly monstrous now?" Danny asks, voice echoing throughout the room. He watches the Were King's fur raise, the Avian King's feathers ruffle. "I maintain a visage of humanity by my own liking, but I am so much more than just that."

He lets his form drift just a little more, his chest and arms whisping out like his legs until he's more or less a star-studded amorphous mass with a head on top. Even that, though, is... Other. His mouth is too large, he knows, and his eyes too deep and too many, all contained within his sockets, irises many and varied as stars in the sky.

His crown burns cold over his head, hanging in the air.

"I am the Shield of the After, Protector of the Beyond. I am the One Between, the Balance, the Shepard, and the Guiding Star. The Tyrant-Killer. Deathless and Lifeless. I am the High King of the Infinite Realms."

As much as he had raged against taking the crown—all he was trying to do was protect his town, after all—he couldn't help but admit to himself that he... kinda liked it. Not the power, of course. That he could do without. All that paperwork? The bowing and scraping? Nah.

But the fact that he was able to do these things, to be these things... to help the dead as much as the living... it soothed something in him, fulfilled him in a way that being the protector of Amity did.

"I accepted the invitation to this Conclave with the hope of improving relations between the Living and the Dead. I did not come to be ridiculed and doubted, especially by mere mortals such as yourselves."

He can see the various Rulers' breaths misting in the air, the temperature dropping father by the second. Space was cold, after all. Danny very graciously doesn't allow the oxygen and atmosphere to vacate as it would in actual space.

Mostly.

He doesn't want to kill them, after all, just... give them a little scare.

The edges of the room waver, the witches' spellwork trembling under his presence. He extends what may have once been a hand but now resembled more of a tendril, or perhaps a bit of a galactic swirl, towards the nearest surface.

It happens to be the table.

It takes laughably little energy to shore up the witches' spellwork, the space growing more defined in an instant.

Pettily, he also adds a chair to the weave. It's just barely bigger than the others' chairs, made from ice and upholstered in neon green fabric.

He positions his form above the chair and beings the annoying process of reeling himself back into something manageable and humanoid, gravity increasing and compounding until the black of his body folds onto itself, defined edges forming once more. He reels the stars back into himself, tucking plenty inside his cloak. The chill, however, doesn't completely disappear.

Danny's head is the last thing to come back to normal, growing smaller and less mindbendingly awful and settling in its proper position on his neck. His eyes don't quite go back to normal either, though. He keeps the depth and the multiplicity, since he's been complimented on their fear-inducing properties many a time.

"Now, may we begin?" Danny asks politely, voice merely ethereal instead of booming and all-encompassing.

Pale, the Witch Queen just nods.

---

"So, how was it?" Sam asks him later, fastballing a chocolate chip muffin directly at his forehead as he walks in through the door.

"Did the vampires sparkle?" Tucker yells his question from further into their shared home.

Danny snorts, snatching the muffin from where he'd instinctively made it bob in the air, held inches away from his skin. "The vampire didn't sparkle, Tuck. And it was pretty fun! I got to go full abomination!"

"Hell yeah." Sam holds her hand up and he returns the high five. "Whatever they did, they deserved it."

Danny laughs as he drops onto their couch. "Yeah, they're not going to make that mistake again any time soon."

#danny phantom #phantasy phest 2023 #fantasy eldritch au #dp

[deliscandystore]

🌒💀HALLOWEEN SELF AWARE AU SNIPPET💀🌒

Hiii!! This'll be the first post of my Persona 5 self aware au, which I have been cooking up for a WHILE now. I hope you enjoy, and mind the warnings for the following:

Near mind breaking, repetitive capitalized text, mentioned kidnapping, and an intense eldritch horror scene.

Anyways, I hope you like it!

The first time Zenkichi met Dr. Maruki in the cognitive realm, things were far from pleasant. That bleached, bright white lab, filled with hollow reflections of people and Shadows for doctors, imagery of hearts and brains and sappy wellness. The overly calm piano score playing all around them contrasted with the hurried footsteps of the group. He’d never been in a place like this before, a Palace, the kids called it. Sure, the place was big, but compared to the open city streets in the Jails, the walls began to crawl with claustrophobia. The mission they had called him for didn’t help, either. 

“We need your help! Everything was fine until Player stopped showing up. We haven’t seen them since last week, but time’s been moving completely normal! We have two days until we send the calling card!” He heard from Ann over the phone.

Even today, the reality of his situation still seemed to scramble Zenkichi’s brain. Everything, the whole world around him that he had spent his entire life in, was just a video game. And right now, he wasn’t even in the game he was made for! He was just grateful that the games were compatible somehow, being the same series and all. But the player, they were no older than the Phantom Thieves the games were centered around. Just a kid, really. All of them were just kids. 

The worry sank to the bottom of his stomach. All the times he had seen Player, he just knew that nothing was alright with them. They were like if you took a very tiny and shaky puppy dog in a cardboard box in the rain, kicked it, took all its little kibbles away, kicked it again, and then turned it into a person, that was about the best he could describe them. Everything his time in Public Security taught him screamed at Zenkichi that Player couldn't possibly be safe at home, but what all could he do? Crawl out of their screen like some horror monster?

Well, someone else might have had that bright idea as well, since the Thieves had triangulated their location inside this very Palace. It was something that made Zenkichi's stomach churn, picturing them trapped in a place like this. This was a laboratory, some weird, twisted vision of a researcher's paradise, not a safe, warm home for an abused teenager. This wasn’t a safe, warm home for any child. Some terrible fate probably awaited them here, devised by this unknowable Doctor Maruki to protect whatever sick experiments he had going on here. He’d seen it a million times, the minds of people whose idle passing thoughts were enough to make any sane man shudder- DEAR GOD WHAT WAS THAT.

Zenkichi repressed a near wail as something big bounded in front of them, giggling like a schoolgirl. Black stockings, pink fur, white, tongue-tipped rabbit tail, it was… Alice? 

“Wait!! You can’t see your present yet!” she chimed in, uncharacteristically chipper. 

“W-What the…?! Her presence wasn’t on the radar at all!” Futaba cried from her UFO, “What’s happening?!?”

The Mad Rabbit hopped along the hallway without even the slightest hint of trying to attack. Her voice echoed through the halls, calling back “Catch me! Catch me!” as she rounded a corner. Ryuji was about to do just that, with agreeing chatter from the rest of the group, but Makoto held out her hands to stop them. “Wait!” shouted the strategist, causing everyone to pause, “She wasn’t on the radar! Maruki’s reality is basically just one big illusion, so this could easily be a trap. We have to keep moving, for Player’s sake.”

Yusuke nodded sagely, “You’re right. Besides, she didn’t quite seem herself. We must- Madarame?!?”

The whole group turned to stare with wide eyes as the sentient quartet of paintings swirled into their path, the Shadow of Yusuke’s old mentor laughing with an out of place merriment. Madarame’s Shadow disappeared down an adjacent hallway, followed by the echo of his voice, “Follow me!”

Yusuke stared slack-jawed at the entrance to the hallway, and Zenkichi scowled, “It’s all distractions! You see a big Shadow, ignore it!”

The Thieves all nodded, rushing forward and staunchly ignoring the calls of their former foes. It seemed odd how friendly and chipper they all seemed, like the cast of a kid’s cartoon, rather than the living manifestations of criminals’ hearts. Some of them could only stare with wide eyes at the familiar faces smiling and waving at them, trying to lead them astray. Zenkichi himself even had to do a double take once or twice. One question lingered on Zenkichi’s mind. If Maruki knew what all of these people meant to the Phantom Thieves, why use their Shadows? To tempt them into a fight? It seemed to be the only logical answer…

They came to a door labeled “Operating Theater” at the end of the hallway. Zenkichi’s brow furrowed behind his mask, flashes of horror movie hospitals and sharp, unfeeling surgical tools going through his mind, the image of hundreds, no, thousands of creepy doctors all staring down the raised platforms at an unwilling patient with their guts split open under a bright light. 

“Do we go in?” one of them asked as they stopped. 

“Everybody ready for a potential fight?” Ren asked, adjusting his glove. There was a murmur of agreement, and he nodded, “Alright, then. Let’s go.” 

They pushed the door open, and when they entered, they found a wide, open space. It was clean and peaceful like the rest of the Palace, and on the center platform was an operating table. Someone was lying there, and Zenkichi could realize only by stepping closer that it must be Player. They were held down by strange clawed hands, and seemed to be dead asleep. The unconscious teen looked just as small and underfed as Zenkichi remembered, but their bandages seemed fresh, and looked like they were applied with better skill and a gentle hand. 

“There they are. Everybody, watch out for traps,” Morgana urged, the little cat-creature stepping forward toward the platform. Zenkichi followed, quickly reaching the bedside. He tried to pry off the blue and black claws that gripped Player’s limbs, which gave way with far too much ease to really be restraints. 

"Something's coming! It's REALLY strong!!" Futaba warned, and Zenkichi cursed under his breath. He reached across the table, the claws coming loose with the slightest prod. Hooking one arm under their knees and the other under the small of their back, the PubSec agent held their all too light form protectively close to his chest. He was gentle with their bruises, and his voice was soft and low. 

"Whoever this doctor is, he's not gonna hurt you anymore... I promise." 

The doors suddenly slammed open, and Zenkichi turned to face the intruder. A tall man about Zenkichi's age with slicked back hair and a suit that once was just as pristine as his surroundings stood in the doorway, hunched over and panting like a panicked animal. 

"Phantom Thieves!" he gasped, with tears streaking down his face, "K-Kids, you've- You've got to help me, I-" 

The doctor looked up through off-kilter glasses, one gloved hand clutched tightly over his heart and creasing his suit as he leaned against the doorframe for support. He was… shaking? 

Zenkichi locked eyes with the man who was quite obviously Maruki from halfway across the room. The other man's breathing steadied as confusion crossed his features. His gaze turned to Sophia, but before he could fully look at her, his frantic gaze snapped back to Player, unconscious in Zenkichi's arms. There was a moment of pause as the doctor seemed to take a breath in. The air went cold. Distantly, the wail of a baby’s cry could be heard, causing some of the Thieves to flinch and look around with wide eyes. Maruki’s voice was thin and strained. 

“What. Are. You. Doing…?”

The inspector wasted no time. He turned heel towards the door at the other side of the room, yelling “C’mon!” for the rest of the team to follow. A few looked back with worried eyes as they began their escape, knowing as they watched his expression turned to sheer shock that this was far from how Maruki usually operated. Actually, kidnapping at all seemed way off from his MO to begin with.

Kasumi was the last to turn away from the man who had helped her while she was grieving her sister, but as she did, she turned back once she saw him move from the corner of her vision. Her eyes widened and fear overtook her expression. 

“WE NEVER AGREED TO THIS!” he all but roared, falling to his knees with his hands over his glasses. Something in his body seemed to twist horrifically sideways in a motion Kasumi couldn’t even fathom, much less remember being something that was supposed to happen. Maruki’s head twisted to the side with a horrible cracking sound, jutting forward in a way his neck should not have been able to support. His back arched like a cat’s, and two sets of arms tore out through the sides of his suit, a set of sharp, blue-tipped spikes sticking out from each of the vertebrae in his spine. Maruki let out a sound that could only resemble a scream, echoing sharply through the operating theater. 

The unseen baby shrieked as if it were dying. 

With a mix of fearful cries and curses, the Phantom Thieves scrambled to the exit, only to be stopped by a hand like the claws on the things that had been holding Player slamming it shut. They all looked up, only to see what Maruki had become clinging to the wall, his body curved in an arc above the double doors. 

His spine was stretched beyond what could be human proportions, all to support a total of six arms dispersed in pairs along his extended torso. His white dress shoes were gone, replaced by another set of hands, making it eight in total. Two extra pairs of eyes were evenly divided amongst his shoulders and hips, staring down at them with a wrath incomprehensible in comparison to the awkward counselor’s usual doe-eyed disposition. A long tail like the tentacles that were scattered around the laboratory lashed angrily in front of the doors like one of Ann’s whips. 

With another bone-chilling roar, Maruki rushed Zenkichi, his front arms extended to try to swipe Player from his protective hold. He dodged, lifting one leg to deliver a swift back-kick to the maw full of sharp, snapping teeth headed toward him, knocking Maruki’s glasses off as he backpedaled. The teens all drew their weapons, each one more than ready than the last for a fight to protect their friend. Maruki’s gaze flitted between all of them, but he only had eyes for Zenkichi. 

Jumping off from the wall and neatly clearing everyone else, he landed behind Zenkichi, trying to slash at the other man’s legs to knock him to the floor. Sophia’s yo-yo and Haru’s axe came swiftly to their teammate’s defense, but it was no use. Maruki dodged, and Zenkichi moved in time with him to avoid any chance of being hit. Midway through his attempt to charge, Makoto drifted in front of Zenkichi on Johanna, causing Maruki to skid to a halt and jump back with a growl. Confusion registered on her expression, and Akechi and Ren shared a glance. 

Deciding to test his theory, Akechi charged forward with a loud cry. Ann’s whip cracked near Maruki, but he remained focused enough while on the defensive to still whirl around and catch and toss Akechi to the side. The young detective rolled with his landing, ultimately unharmed. His eyes glinted, and he yelled to the rest of the Thieves, “Coward! He’s not attacking!”

The misshapen doctor’s eyes widened, watching all of them ready to attack, knowing he wouldn’t do anything to hurt them. His tail flicked, and all six eyes latched onto Zenkichi as he gave an eye contact signal to Ren before turning towards the door and trying to escape again. He was covered by the rest of them, and Maruki scowled to himself. He turned, and Makoto revved her Persona before giving chase. Maruki, despite his newly inhuman form, was only a bit faster than Johanna, but he was running directly toward the wall. She braced herself, turning at the last second, expecting to clip her adversary with the back tire, only to see him go… up?

Like some unearthly spider, he went directly up the wall, not breaking his momentum for a second. All eyes were on the arching path of the room’s domed ceiling, waiting for Maruki to land and continue trying to attack. Springing off from the door when he finally got close enough, he jumped at Zenkichi, only to be hit with multiple bursts of different magics. Psycho Force, Inferno, Panta Rei, Diamond Dust, Thunder Reign, Atomic Flare, Hamaon, Demonic Decree, Mudoon, and Kougaon, all flying toward him at once.

The ice trapped him in place, melting and boiling at the touch of the flame, fanned by the whipping winds. A swirling flurry of ofuda paper flew around him and stuck to his clothes from the gust, disintegrating instantly from the nuclear blast igniting under him, reaching up and around him toward the blast of lightning striking down from above. Something like a gavel hit him from overhead, destroying a piece of him somewhere as the full force of shimmering light and cackling dark engulfed the perimeter of the targeted explosion while he felt like his brain was suddenly being mashed inside his skull like a mortar and pestle. The game’s flashy graphics circled around him. Red and white words, TECHNICAL, CRITICAL, WEAK, MISS, NULL, BLOCK, numbers and glitching images of a heart filled in with blue coloring. Curling in on himself amidst the pain, something that could not be called a scream left him. It sounded more like a dying star’s last cry, or a falling building, or breaking glass. He looked up, his movements slowed by the torrent of everything around him, and Zenkichi’s gaze caught with his. His eyes were not human, filled with tears, and it felt like being ambushed by static. It wrapped around him, a transfer of a momentary internal death from one to another, and it was a painful one. 

Behind his mask, Zenkichi’s eyes widened. It was cold, everything was cold, and there were three people there with him. Two were standing outside, on the other side of the doorway. All he could see of them was their withered old hands reaching out to the one in front of him, facing away. The pair received something. They turned to leave. A cry left him, loud and shredding at the back of his throat, as two figures retreated into the snow, away from the door. Something lit up in his chest, a flaring pain from being shoved backward, as the sound of the last apparition’s yelling nearly deafened him. They had taken something. They wouldn’t give it back. He had to get it back. He had to get him back. 

Give him back. 

GIVE HIM BACK.

GIVE ME BACK MY BABY.

His arms now empty, he fell back onto the floor, and the baby cry roared through the room. It was so much louder to him now, hearing it twice over. The entire Palace seemed to shake, and when Zenkichi snapped to his senses, he was being pulled backwards by the arms. He no longer had Player, looking around for them with residual panic as his mind still spun. They were all in the hallway now, his boots dragging against the polished floors. The lights shut off behind them as they ran, Zenkichi’s vision illuminated by cracks in the porcelain tiles that only barely gained ground on them as they fled, bursting with bright white light. Faintly glowing blue eyes and the tips of claws seemed to be chasing them, and Zenkichi scrabbled to stand up. He felt his own panic well up inside him. The realization that Player was nowhere to be seen settled into him. No no no- they had come all this way, endured all THAT, and Player was still trapped in the den of that psychotic monster doctor?!

They were all the way back at the entrance now, the doors to the elevator blasting open as if the entire Palace wanted them out. He looked back one last time, seeing Maruki come to a stop, panting and haggard, with his suit ruined and his chest heaving with soft sobs. He turned back as they all crammed into the elevator, and the doors slammed shut. As they were taken back down to the entrance of the Palace, they could see through the glass. The whole place had harsh red searchlights swiveling around the perimeter, and it was snowing like they had landed in the Arctic. 

The moment they all settled, Zenkichi nearly collapsed. 

"W-What… what WAS that?!?" he cried, "We've gotta go back-" 

"With THAT kinda scream? No effin' way!" Ryuji objected, one hand over the aching spot in his leg. 

"The way you howled after touching the trauma cell was humorous at best, but… There can be no comparison. That was pure agony of the human heart," added Yusuke. 

Akechi crossed his arms, leaning against the clear wall, "Besides, we have no clue what just happened back there. The Palace security must be astronomical right about now." 

Zenkichi's mind tried to recall what he had bore witness to in Maruki's eyes. He'd seen less desperation and terror in people who were about to die than there was in that man at that moment. And that weird, painful vision… It seemed to claw the back of his eyes. He remembered touching the door to Konoe’s trauma cell back in Osaka, maybe that was what happened? “Gramps-san,” he heard Haru prod from beside him, “Are you alright? What happened to you?” Zenkichi looked around, just now noticing that the rest of the team was staring at him. He looked at Ren, a sort of dazed confusion on his face, ”Was that some sorta trauma cell?” he asked, “Do these places have that?” 

Equal confusion rippled throughout the group, and a few of them glanced at each other. That… can’t be good. His fingertips pressed against his mask, “It wasn’t just words this time… I could see things. Something about snow and a baby?” 

They looked around at the blizzard just now starting to calm around them, the sounds of the baby’s cries now making some sort of sense to them. Akechi scoffed and crossed his arms, “Of course, something relating to trauma and we’ve only seen it from Maruki. What tricks doesn’t he have?”

Zenkichi raised a brow, “But you said Palaces aren’t traumagenic like Jails. What happened?”

“Well… not necessarily, at least,” Futaba chimed guiltily from her UFO, “I had one. That was how I joined.”

The others nodded like this was common knowledge, but he was surprised, “So… not everybody with a Palace is bad then?” 

“It is only a distortion of perception,” Yusuke chimed, “The distortion itself simply has to be strong enough.” 

Zenkichi nodded, letting this new information sink in. He didn’t land a position in Public Security for ignoring potential clues. He opened his mouth to speak, but a loud droning noise encircled them, and the searchlights fizzled out. The elevator came to a stop in its destination, and they all filed out before all of the lights followed suit. The Palace was plunged into sheer darkness, only illuminated by the surrounding illusions of streetlights, which began to dim. Everyone drew their weapons on instinct, and the music itself seemed to stutter before shutting off completely. All of the Phantom Thieves snapped their attention to Futaba, who practically spluttered out a yell. “Powerful reading!! Brace yours-” Futaba’s voice was immediately drowned out by a shockwave that knocked some of them off their feet, accompanied by a sound that seemed to shake their rib cages in unison. It was like the Earth was about to shatter, becoming deafening to the point where all their minds could do to protect themselves was to refuse to acknowledge it. The swirls of stringy golden wires around the Palace coiled and writhed upward as the ground shook violently in its terror. 

The huge, glowing orb at the very top of the Palace went from brightness to almost a void, dark enough to put the night sky above to shame as it sucked in what little light the stars had to give. A massive crack suddenly split its shell, and all the glass below it shattered, sending shards flying floor by floor, as the sound became closer and closer. It began to grate as it tapered, like somehow, a human voice had produced it. The elevator was crushed by something slamming its way down the shaft like it was nothing. No one could hear Zenkichi scream as something grabbed hold of him, snatching him back upward faster than his mind could compute. The surroundings were a blur of darkness, broken glass, and shadows collapsing into wisps of dead smoke. Reality bent backwards, and before he knew anything, he was back in the operating theater. Zenkichi tried to see what was in front of him, but when he tried he didn’t register his own voice peaking as it felt like his entire brain was electrocuted on the spot. 

DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?!?”

DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT DON’T LOOK AT IT

Through the sheer mind-killing fear, he managed to hoarsely cry, “STOP! STOP IT! STOP! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, STOP IT!!!”

He heard a monstrous, screeching growl like metal being mashed together.

“YOU’RE LYING! GIVE THEM BACK TO ME!!”

He tried to hold his arms up to defend against the horror above him, at every side, all around him. His eyes latched onto the operating table, seeing that it was empty. Seeing some sort of normal object was almost nearly enough to restore his mind to order from the scrambling, scrabbling malfunction. Zenkichi gasped for breath as everything seemed to bend again, and he was in what looked to be a surveillance room. He was stood on his feet and shoved into a chair. He stared forward, his brain coming into focus again.

On the screen was that horrible theater again, before anything happened. The room seemed mostly empty, except for Player on the table. The doors slammed shut, but after a few seconds, what looked like Zenkichi walked into the room, completely alone. He looked around, before simply strolling up to the table and scooping Player up with no specific gentleness, all in one efficient motion, before strolling out again with no opposition. One hand out of many grabbed the back of Zenkichi’s head, forcing him forward for emphasis on the point being made. He caught his breath, shuddering from the indescribable feeling of physical contact with this thing. As he readjusted, his voice was weak and shaky from panic, “H-Hey! That wasn’t me!” 

His eyes flickered around the camera feeds, half of them reduced to static. His gaze caught on one feed in particular, showing what was frankly just as scary to watch from a camera as it was to experience, the moment when they all were being chased out into the elevator. He looked at the times on both, seeing that they matched. “W-Wait! Wait, let go of me!! Look!” Zenkichi pointed, bringing the attention off of him for just a moment. 

For a few seconds, he could feel the creature shift, silent. There was a gasp, a small, human sound. He was released. Slow, uneven footsteps retreated from behind Zenkichi. Eyes became fewer, 58, 25, 12, 8, 6… 2. Limbs began to shrink back into normal lengths and numbers, and what had been looming over him shrank back into the shape of a man. A broken, terrified, defeated man.

Maruki sank to the floor as the lights turned back on. There was a whimper, and a hiccup. His voice no longer shook the earth, or shattered his surroundings, and he could barely manage to say “No… No… Not again, please, god, not again… No…”

Hesitantly, Zenkichi turned around, his mind practically shutting down to recover from what he had just been through. Maruki looked nothing like he had first imagined him. The man was taller than he was, but he was curled in on himself so much, his hands clutching the fabric over his stomach, that it was almost like one would need a microscope to see him properly. Tears, heavy streams of unrelenting tears, were pouring from his eyes. Despite all the horrors he had just witnessed, something in Zenkichi’s heart whispered that this was not a man who would hurt that child, that maybe, this madman was truly more gentle than the horrors implied. 

Maruki looked up at him, begging, pleading with his eyes, “If it wasn’t you… who has my baby…?”

Dull surprise registered on Zenkichi’s face. He looked back, seeing the footage again. Who was that?

And why did they look like him? 

#persona 5 au #persona 5 maruki #takuto maruki #zenkichi hasegawa #p5 self aware au

[ennas-aesthetic]

Read your newest part of the retired!dream, loved it! Dream finally knowing what it feels to be truly loved was so heartwarming🥺. I'm a bit lost though, when did Dream get that scar? He said he kept it but I don't remember in the comics him getting injured

Aaaw thank you! I put Dream through the wringer in my last fic, so I guess he deserves the happiness he gets in this AU. :'DD

Re: the scar on Morpheus' cheek, that's actually a GREAT question, but I'm afraid we're going into spoiler territory for this one. So this is a fair warning to anyone and everyone who might see this and not want the Sandman Comics spoiled. Spoilers Zone from here on out:

You're sorta correct on Morpheus never getting injured in the comics. The Endless are more than humans, more than gods. It would take an entirely eldritch and primordial being to hurt the Seven enough to make them bleed.

Which is why the one time Endless blood WAS SPILT, it was both blood-curdling and terrifying, because YOU KNOW that it is a grievous threat indeed.

Dream gets the scar on his cheek during The Kindly Ones (volume 9). When he goes to Nuala after she called him for a boon, the Furies through Lyta Hall were able to enter the Dreaming so they may destroy it. After he comes back, Dream confronts them and demands them to leave; in retaliation they struck him with their barbed scorpion whip on his cheek.

Below is what the scar looks like up close.

In the next few panels Lucien actually asks him if he would be keeping the scar. In turn he says this:

And (hoooo boy prepare yourselves for this one) until his last conversation with Death, you can actually see that Dream still DOES have the scar here. He has it until he... well, you know what happens after this conversation.

The scar is quite significant arc-wise for Dream. In the panels above he says that Alianora foretold that he would receive two scars: one on the cheek, one on the heart, the way he did to her. This is expounded on in Sandman: Overture, where Alianora, his former lover, got a scar on her cheek when she defended and rescued Dream from the two gods who held him prisoner. (Of course, the scar in her heart was when Dream tire of her and grew cold and distant. Seriously, if anyone reading this hasn't read Overture yet, check it out. It'll reframe everything you know about the original comics in the best, most heart-breaking way possible.)

In the AU, while I'm keeping the details of HOW Dream gets to walk away very vague, I'd like to think that most of the events during The Kindly Ones STILL happened. I'd also like to think he kept the scar because while his self-destructive spiral was averted, Dream still hasn't fully healed and processed his issues, and thus considers it to be a literal symbol of self-flagellation. He is fully capable of erasing it, but it remaining there is a choice he made.

What he hasn't calculated is that people will be kind and caring and concerned. What he hasnt calculated is that being human means being subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known, to reap the rewards of being loved. 😌

Hope that answers your question! :DD

#retired!dream #retired!dream as a librarian AU #the sandman #dream of the endless #the sandman spoilers #enna rambles #just-cosmere-fan #thank you sm for the ask and hope that answers your question! #i do love the idea that him walking away from his responsibilities isnt the immediate happy ever after that we think #there's a boatload of issues he has to address/ go thru #and that he would keep that scar #because Dream loves keeping mementos of things that remind him of his failures/ punish him #morpheus

[eldritch-hall-asylum]

Jeff: *talking to Ben*

Ben: *Not responding/listening*

Jack G: He's not got his ears in, love. Having a hearing break today.

[Jack taps in front of Ben]

Jack, signing: Resting your ears today, Bean?

Ben: uh-huh.

[He looks to his side, and sees Jeff]

Ben, signing: Sorry, Jeff. Didn't hear.

Jeff: ...oh.

[Jeff also begins signing (mostly finger spelling) so he can talk with Ben]

#creepypasta #creepypasta au #creepypasta fanfic #eldritch hall au #eldritch hall #incorrect creepypasta quotes #incorrect eldritch hall quotes #laughong jack #laughing jack #laughig jack #jack windroe #jack grossman #jack windroe grossman #ben drowned #ben aniko #jeffrey woods #jeff the killer #jeff woods

[sanriosratz]

Starring Role!Patrick (AU??????)

@eldritch-hall-asylum, please reblog and add stuff if you feel so inclined

I'm a big ol' Patrick simp, and I love this idea. It lives rent-free in my head. Also, Patrick needs more love.

I, personally, see him in a murder-type film/TV series (totally not because I live off the idea of Patrick covered in blood, of course not, haha 😅😅😳), but if you see him in another type, please let me know!!

Going off from the point above, I think that a nonchalant, sort of flirtatious, gruff and standoffish murderer/serial killer would be an amazing role for him. It's such a different character for him to play, because "He’s never really been much bigger than 'eccentric/nerdy best friend', 'neighbour the kids love', 'step-dad', or 'weird uncle'" (ref.).

When he first auditioned for the starring role, he felt so completely out of place; usually, he auditions for smaller parts, but, hey, his agent suggested it, and a lot of his family encouraged it, so fuck it, he auditioned.

When his agent called again to say that he got offered the role, he took it almost immediately.

His brain was mush as he came off the phone, I mean, starring role? Him? No way.

—

He'd be absolutely amazing during filming! He'd get along well with the other actors, constantly calling them "Mija"/"Mijo" (Spanish term for endearment, it's a headcanons of mine) between scenes and just being an absolute wonder to work with.

After whatever he's in comes out, he'd definitely watch it with the rest of eldritch hall (assuming there's not an age limit...). He'd probably get tons of compliments from people and he'd just be all gushy lol.

Also, you know those QnA things (like, 'The cast of [name] answer questions playing with cats' or 'Patrick Torres-Moran from [name] answers fan questions from the web', stuff like that.), he'd definitely do those!

And the interview show with Charles!

And absolutely, like you've said (here), he'd relish in all the cosplays, edits, thirst traps, TikToks, fanfics, artwork, and more.

Please if you have information on starring role!Patrick, share it!

#eldritch-hall-asylum #starring role patrick #starring role patrick au

[eldritch-hall-after-dark]

Oh my God, imagine Patrick learns about his sweater fucking Ciero, and begins a tense rivalry between sweater and future star. He’s so ready to burn that thing, but stops when Ciero speaks up saying something like “Don’t burn it. Show it who I belong to.” Patrick makes sure the sweater has a front-row seat as he pounds Ciero’s brains out and marks her up so pretty.

...anon, you don't know what you just inspired. I am kissing you on the mouth rn.

(Also inspired by this song! It's really good, ngl-!)

Contains sexual content. Do not read if under the age of 18, or if that makes you uncomfortable.

"...what?" Patrick asked, raising a brow.

"...you heard me," Ciero squeaked.

He smirked.

"Actually, 'Ro," he teased. "I don't think I did."

He gently wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

"Because it sounds like… you dreamed of my favourite sweater fucking your brains out," he scoffed. "But that can't be fucking true, can it? Because look-!"

He held the sweater up, showing it to them.

"...this thing doesn't have a cock. It doesn't have fingers. It can't fuck you."

Patrick rested his head on her shoulder.

"...unlike me."

His hand slid to Ciero's jeans.

Ciero whined, rocking his hips.

"P-please," he whimpered.

Patrick smirked.

"Please, what, mi traido?" Patrick asked, purring.

Ciero whined. 

"Fuck me-!" He begged. "Fuck me good, baby."

He heard Patrick's deep chuckle rumble in his chest.

"Ohohoh," Patrick laughed. "Y'want me to fuck you? And not this piece of fabric?"

Ciero nodded, blushing furiously.

"Pleeease, baby," he whined, grinding his ass against Patrick's hips for good measure.

Patrick groaned, feeling himself get hard.

…fuck.

He slid out from under Ciero, letting her flop back down onto her mattress with a giggle.

He flung the sweater onto the chair.

"Stay right there-!" He pointed at the sweater.

Ciero giggled, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend.

"What?" Patrick asked, scoffing. 

"Sweetheart-!"

"That sweater made a cuckold of me, baby," Patrick snorted. "I'm just… showing it who you belong to."

Ciero smiled up at him lovingly, shaking her head.

"Really?" She quirked a brow.

"It's either this, or I burn it." He whispered, growling into her neck. "...and we both know I look too damn fine in that thing to do it."

Ciero chuckled.

"Alright, baby," she cooed. "Show that sweater who's in charge."

Patrick grinned.

"With pleasure, mami," Patrick grinned.

He trapped Ciero under one hand grasping the headboard, while the other clutched the pillow.

"Chito," Patrick hissed, pressing his lips snugly against Ciero's.

Ciero obliged, kissing her boyfriend back. She tugged on his curls.

The two slowly started grinding, feeling each other grow painfully hard in their jeans.

"Mhhh, fuck…" Patrick hissed, dragging himself away from his boyfriend's lips. "God damn, 'Ro, you're so fine."

Ciero chuckled.

"You're not too bad yourself, Pat." 

Patrick undid his belt, sliding his jeans off quickly and discarding them on the floor. He unbuttoned Ciero's shorts and helped her discard them, both of their boxers following suit.

Patrick's lips found themselves back on hers, steadying himself with a hand on the headboard.

His hips rocked lazily against Ciero's, grinding together toet them make the most gorgeous sounds.

The dull thump, thump, thump of the bed was a constant reminder of how badly they needed each other.

Patrick felt his cock ache.

He needed to fuck Ciero.

Badly

And from how flushed Ciero looked, it appeared that he needed the same. 

"You want me to fuck your tight little hole, Princessa?" Patrick teased, holding her knee.

Ciero bit her lip. He nodded.

"Yes, baby-! Need you to make me feel good-!" She whined. "So good…"

Patrick chuckled.

"There's my good boy…" he whispered. "Lube still in the same drawer?"

Ciero nodded, spreading her legs in excitement. Patrick shoved his hand into the drawer, grabbing the familiar bottle. 

He opened it, sliding some of the familiar clear liquid over his cock - and rubbing some over her hole. 

"Good girl," Patrick whispered, seeing how she moved against him.

Ciero blushed.

"So receptive for me, mami," he purred.

Ciero loved how he sounded when he said… anything in Spanish, really…

He squeezed her ass, groping her plump rear.

"Good girl, good girl…" he whispered.

His cock head barely entered her, pressing against her hole. 

She whimpered, legs trembling in anticipation.

Patrick slid in further.

"Ah-!" She yelped.

Patrick froze.

"Baby, you okay?" He asked, eyes wide with concern.

Ciero nodded.

"You're just… really fucking big…" He whimpered.

Patrick chuckled.

"Really, mami?" Patrick purred.

Ciero nodded, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

He smiled down at Ciero.

"I know baby…" He whispered, peppering kisses down Ciero's neck. "...but you've taken me before. We fucking know it fits."

His hips slowly rocked, sliding himself further inside of Ciero's ass.

Ciero whimpered, grabbing Patrick's shoulders tightly. Patrick hissed. He felt her nails dig in.

…but that really only spurred him on further.

He slowly picked up his pace.

In…

Out…

He kissed Ciero's cheek.

In…

Out…

Her lips.

In…

Out…

In, out…

In, out…

In, out, in, out…

"Doing such a good job, taking me like this-!" He moaned.

They'd started a steady rhythm. One that had Ciero's eyes watering with pleasure.

"Ah-! Mhh-! Fuuuck…" Ciero groaned. "Patriiiiick-!" 

Patrick chuckled, kissing her gently.

"Don't worry, baby, it's just me and you…" he growled, slowly sliding inside of her again.

Ciero whined. She wrapped her hand around her cock, jerking herself off.

"Mhm-hhmmm-hmph-!" She whined, rocking her hips against him.

Patrick grasped the headboard tightly. It banged against the wall loudly as his hips pistoned in and out.

"Mhhh, fuck… Fuck, baby-!" Patrick grunted.

She tugged on his curls. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him close.

"Patrick-!" She squealed, lips parted beautifully for him. 

"Y'gonna pull my hair out, corazon," Patrick joked. 

Ciero only moaned in response, losing himself to his pleasure.

Patrick smirked, fucking him faster.

"¿Esta la verga es grande?" Patrick groaned, bucking his hips wildly.

Ciero could barely think; all he could do was feel.

Feel Patrick's cock pump in and out.

Feel his body trembling.

Feel his orgasm approaching.

Feel…

"Cum for me, mami-!" Patrick hissed.

Feel…

"A-ah-!" Ciero squealed.

She came loudly, squirting cum all over her abdomen. Her body trembled, thighs gripping tighter around Patrick's waist.

Patrick grunted, throwing his head back in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck-! Mhhh-m-hmph-! Baby…"

He groaned, biting his bottom lip.

"'Ro, fuck…"

His hips rocked faster and faster, making him chase his release.

"Who makes you feel this good, mami?"

"You, Patrick-!" Ciero whined.

Patrick nodded, kissing her neck.

"That's fucking right, baby-!" He growled. "Me-! I fuck you this good-! Me-! And not some fucking sweater-!"

He rasped, glaring over at the sweater for good measure.

Ciero whined, throwing her head back into the pillows.

"Good… so good f'me… squeezing me like a fuckin' vice-!" 

His voice cracked a little, squeaking as Ciero's walls clamped around him.

"Fuck…" he whined, feeling his own release creep closer.

His hips sped up.

Faster…

Faster…

Faster…

"Mhhh-m-hmph-!" He groaned. "Fuck, 'Ro… fuuuck-!"

Finally, his hips stilled.

And he came, shooting his load deep inside of Ciero's tight ass.

"Ah-ah-ah-aaahh-!" 

Patrick threw his head back, collapsing on top of Ciero with a gentle thud.

Ciero giggled, struggling under the weight of his boyfriend.

"Pat-!" He squealed, 

"Whaat?" Patrick chuckled, panting.

"Get off of me-! You're too heavy-!"

Patrick rolled onto his side.

"Happy?" He asked, facing Ciero.

Ciero nodded.

"Very."

"Bet you my sweater didn't make you cum like that," he joked, nuzzling into Ciero.

Ciero giggled.

"I still can't believe you got jealous over that."

"Hey, what do you expect, mami?" He teased, rocking his hips again.

Ciero whined.

"You're my boyfriend." His voice was possessive. "And only I get to make you cum like a slut."

Ciero laughed gently.

"You're a dork, Pat-!"

Patrick rolled his eyes, still balls-deep inside of Ciero.

"Yeah, but I'm your dork."

He began to pepper kisses up and down her neck.

"...or do I have to remind you of that?" He teased. "...again?"

Ciero rolled his eyes, wrapping her arms around Patrick's neck. Her lips met his in a gentle kiss.

Patrick started to thrust in and out of her again-!

He started setting a steady rhythm for them-!

When…

The door handle wiggled, and the pair looked up.

Ciero's roommate came home early.

"Hey, Ciero-oooh-! Holy fuck-!"

…shit.

#creepypasta #creepypasta au #eldritch hall after dark #creepypasta fanfic #spice tw #sex tw #un osha compliance #soft yellow hearts #Patrick #ciero #splenderman #splendorman #oc: patrick

[twst-drabbles]

Azul 6

Summary: Just when Azul managed to lure you into a contract for your dorm, his contracts go missing.

(Eldritch AU once more because I can. This book would have been so short with the eldritch prefect there. Most of it probably would’ve been spent in Azul’s point of view as he obsessively investigates where his precious contracts have gone.)

A far off blast shook the very foundation of the Octavinelle dorm, rousing every student sleeping within up. Whatever dreams they may have had were ripped away from them in that moment. Curiosity was what powered some their bones to get up.

Curiosity for some, dread for most others. Azul managed to keep that under his skin, but it skittered still. He stands to lose quite a bit after all. Old habits take time to cut. They have to bleed after all, leak out over time. So, Azul kept his panic at bay, driving away scenarios that threaten to consume him. For his own sake, Azul pushed himself out of bed and checked out the more important places.

But already, the scene was strange.

The lights were never this dim, never did shadows stretch out this far into the hall. But Azul ventured forward still. Past the students sleepily walking towards the source of the sound, past the ones walking the other away with quivering hunched backs, past the ones that murmured and whispered to a friend that was not present.

A thin needle of cold pierced through his tamed veins. He can hear the sound of the sea, of currents flowing in and around him in a song familiar to all folks born in the sea. But Azul was too deep into the building, surrounded by too many walls and pillars to ever properly hear that sound.

And he was right next to his most precious room. The room where power was always given to him, where letters and paper come together to become another layer on his crafted mask.

The vault was missing. It wasn’t opened, it wasn’t blown to little metal bits embedded in the shelves and seats. It was simply gone. The entire wall became a tunnel, a maw with crumbling stone and loose wires for teeth, leading directly into the sea he can hear so well.

Gone was the vault, and with it, his contracts.

Grim gritted his teeth as he leaped forward, attempting to swipe the contract with his name on it. The anemone wagged about on his head as you stepped to the side with the greatest of ease. He honestly doesn’t understand why you even bothered to come back to Leona’s room with these in your hands. You should’ve destroyed them already! What’s holding you back?

“Come on!” Grim jumped again as you leafed through the large stack, “Rip up my contract already! I want this dumb anemone thing off my head!”

Nobody will take him seriously as long as he has this sea thing on his head. Do you really want the Great Grim to continue suffering like this? Your partner?

He readied his next leap, adjusting his legs for the greatest bounce you’ll ever see, but then you lightly placed a palm over his vision. You only let him see you through the gaps. You gave a smile, a most gentle smile.

A smile one gives when you’re lowering the cold body of a most hated enemy into the gave.

“Grim,” you spoke, voice ringing clear in his ears, gripping his brain, “let me have my fun, will you?”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #drabble #twst-drabbles exclusive #octavinelle #azul #azul ashengrotto #eldritch au #reader insert

[esamastation]

Vibes I want to write (with svsss AU examples)

1 Sci-fi character in a fantasy setting. Like, Detroit Become Human Android in Scum Villain or something. Shen Qingqiu is an Android owned by Shang Qinghua who used to be his editor. He became a deviant out of pure loathing of Sqh's writing. Then they transmigrate? Now there's an android in a fantasy world trying to blend in and survive. Can he cultivate? How does he recharge? I wanna find out.

2 Alternatively the previous one but reversed. Emperor Luo Binghe crosses universes to find his Kind Shizun and finds the perfect candidate. In a Star Wars universe, Crèche Master Shen Yuan doesn't know what he did to deserve this Dark Sider's attention, but he wishes Binghe would stop trying to fight droids/aliens/space ships for no good reason. The property damage is getting ridiculous. Actually no, that isn't too interesting, Luo Binghe is too op, hmm. Luo Binghe uses some sort of Banishment ritual and Shen Jiu finds himself in the Stargate universe. Ooh, Shen Jiu in Marvel. Tony Stark makes him new arms and legs and they fight about whether cultivation is magic or not. Shen Jiu loves/hates mobile phones. And then Shen Jiu makes his way back to PIDW and brings all his new sci-fi knowledge with him.

3 A kingdom built on misunderstandings. Shen Yuan transmigrates as himself and by applying Airplane Logic to the world, he accidentally makes himself out to look all knowing He's mistaken for so many things. Immortal master, legendary hermit, great seer. People start following him, thinking they're joining a great sect. His works and words get spread out and people think he's thousands of years old. Shen Yuan just wanted to find a nice place to read some local literature, but now he's the Great Scholar, a Sect Leader, the oldest immortal, probably divine in some way  and he can't say a thing without people taking it as gospel. Also somewhere along the way, he's become all those things and also there's a sect hall now? And he's not entirely sure how that happened.

4 Angry genre savvy. Shen Yuan has read PIDW back to back; he knows all of its bullshit plot devices. Most of them are mortifying or humiliating or just stupid, and way too many of them involve papapa, but they work. Absolutely furious about it, he applies those plot devices into situations as needed. And what to him is humiliation seems like incredible insight and mastery to others. Shen Yuan hates it but keeps doing it because, goddamnit, it works.

5 Immortality but make it uh, mentally Eldritch? Idk how to explain this one. Sometime ago I glanced at a webcomic where the main character was locked in some kind of liminal space for a million years where he trained himself to be op and came out literally none worse for wear and I was like, "Yeah he should've been mentally pulverised by that, he should've been absolutely disintegrated." So, if you have a magic system that has the ultimate goal of immorality, what does that do to your psyche after hundreds and thousands of years? There's gotta be some intentionally wrought changes with all that cultivation and meditation, because normal human brain capacity and just plain old sapience isn't built for that. What does the mind of a thousand year old cultivator look like? Pretty inhuman, maybe? Shen Qingqiu with a mind like carved jade, polished to perfection over generations, and utterly strange and terrifying to a normal human.

#Fanfic ideas #I guess #My brain is a hamster of a wheel starved for enrichment