#full blown eldritch body horror. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

assortedvillainvault · 1 year

Note

I beg of you I need more Eldritch horror x Hades it’s stuck in my head. Pleased I bev of you

Damn y'all be fans of the eldritch simping huh. WELL ON WE ROLL THEN;

Hades x Eldritch!Reader, Part Two:

You can't be there all the time, he understands, it's not like he's swimming in free time himself.

You're part of such a vastness that this dinky little solar system is only smidgen of your realm. Sometimes when he's talking to you he can tell that, while you're listening and responding perfectly, you attention is focused on something literal lightyears away.

It takes some frank communication to get the point across that he's Not A Fan of being ignored (and genuinely was kind of hurt at first, he thought you were getting bored of him and was trying so hard to bridge the sudden distance) but it wasn't until you offered to show him what you were looking at that he realised you weren't ignoring him at all.

"You, uh, wanna take me somewhere?" Hades was, admittedly, thrown entirely off his game by the affermative hum through his bones as he ignored the latest round of paperwork.

All your meet ups and encounters had been soley either on Earth or telepathic, with Hades more than happy to astral project while his body was safe in the Underworld.

Gods don't need air or gravity, but a certain amount of atmospheric pressure and warmth is certainly appreciated. You laugh gently in his mind and sooth down the edges of his flame, promising to provide that much and more. If he was willing of course.

It's with only slight apprehension that he shrugs and quips a yes.

He'll later describe the feeling of being pulled through the fabric of space as if being inside a bubble made of concrete silence that travelled at four times the speed of sound. It is with frankly heroic effort that he does not loose his lunch even as you pet and hold him in one great betentacled arm - your own body being the concrete shield from the radiation and debris of the universe.

He's not much one for sentimentality but seeing Earth and everything he has ever known zoom out to a dust mote in the darkness put him about a bit. He's unusually quiet during the journey despite gradually losing his death grip on your arm.

You don't think of time in terms of hours or minutes and Hades has no fucking clue how far Earth has gone around the sun before you 'stop' and gently rumble for him to open his eyes.

When Hades was a baby, Rhea used to sneak out with him, hold him up and point out the stars. Even when heavily pregnant with Poseidon, they would be hiding out there away from Kronos, quiet and wondrous for hours at a time. Hades can barely remember the feeling of being safe and warm under a jewelled sky.

It's absolutely blown away by the majesty of what you've brought him to.

The nebula swirls around you both like an ocean fused with a sunset, in every colour imaginable. He gawps at the sheer breadth of the clouds in every direction, so much larger even than you, a black mass against the glory of the stellar nursery.

You gently nudge him out of your grip. He yelps and scrambles before realising he's floating, then chuckles incredulously as he spins in place, wreathed in smoke and his own fire.

You giggle and poke him so he spins faster. He laughs and tries to slap you back with a "Hey! No fair sweetums!"

You guide his gaze over to an area chock full of glowing light. It's clouds are blazing electric blue, and the newborn stars within are twinkling as they stabilize. You wrap him up again as you purr that he reminds you of them and there's no force in this universe that can stop the blush that rises in him from that statement.

It feels like you spend forever there amongst the light of newborn space, gently cruising amongst the mass. Hades feels the stress of existence slip further and further back towards Earth, a peace unlike anything since he was a child taking over.

Soon, you promise, you'll take him to see a supernova. A stars death is just a spectacular as it's birth, after all.

He snuggles down harder and struggles not to fall asleep, your subsonic voice rattling through him in a way that others would call him crazy for finding comforting. The freezing cold of space feels like a balm on his constantly overheated skin. The pressure of your touch under his hands like silky steel.

Absolutely. He's definitely doing this again. Thanks Babe, he needed this.

#thalassa responds #hades x reader #hades #space date time!#Even eldritch horrors get to be soft sometimes #I reckon Hades would actually love to be the less powerful one in a relationship for once #Mans' a stressed out mess who just needs a damn good excuse to relax and let someone else take the reins for once #x reader #disney villains #Thank you for the ask!!

93 notes · View notes

neerasrealm · 4 years

Note

you write poly stuff?? 😏 could I be so bold as to request a three way makeout session with slenjack? bonus points if slender is really worked up and tense or tongue gets involved 😉

YOU'RE HORNY YOU'RE HORNY YOU'RE H O R N Y

deadass this fic reads like the opening to a smut ggghdhs tw for some graphic kissing and a lotta sex jokes

LJ’s room smells of candy, and feels comfy and warm. Maybe it’s the dim lighting and the glowing stickers slapped on his walls and ceiling, or maybe it’s because he’s hugging you close against his soft, plush body and kneading his equally soft lips against yours. His lips taste sweet and sugary, and his boney black hand runs up your back as he kneads against you. Your lips break and his hands grab your hips. Your foreheads touch and he giggles softly.

‘’I luv ya…’’ he murmurs before pecking your lips again. You laugh quietly.

‘’I know you do.’’ you cup his face in your hands and look into his eyes. They’re a very, very pale blue. Almost white. The only speck of colour left on him. They seem to shimmer as he hears you speak. You move in to kiss him again and-

‘’Knock knock knock.’’

LJ turns his head away from you and over to the door. You huff quietly in frustration. Rude, you’re trying to kiss a clown in here. Who the hell thinks they have the right to disturb you?

‘’Hello dear,’’ Slender says as he pokes his head into the room. Nevermind, disturbance forgiven. Slender can interrupt clown kissing sessions whenever he wants. He just has that power. His head moves slightly. ‘’Oh, hello to you too, love.’’ he says, presumably to you. It’s kind of hard to tell with his lack of eyes. He steps into the room. ‘’Mind if I join you two?’’

‘’Nah, we weren’ doin’ anyfin’ impor’an’ anyway.’’

‘’Rude.’’ you murmur back. You were about to pull out your best lines just for him! Jack needs to learn to appreciate a good pickup line when he gets one.

Slender laughs softly as he scoots himself onto the bed next to the two of you. Jack rolls his eyes and grabs him, tugging him over to the two of you. This man has so much dignity that he refuses to crawl on a bed like a normal person. Terrible. Jack’s arms stretch and hug the both of you tight. Really tight- you’re sandwiched between both of them. Not that you’re complaining. You got a face full of clown tiddy. Delightful. Slender’s arms wrap around the both of you and he hums, pleased. You’re squeezed even tighter between the two giant cryptids you call your lovers.

‘’Mmm- guys-’’ you murmur, squirming below them. They pull apart and look down at you. Ah, the joys of being the human in the relationship.

‘’Sorry luv.’’ Jack says with a laugh. Slender reaches down and combs a hand through your hair.

"Sorry dear," Slender murmurs. "I keep forgetting how small you are." He adds with a chuckle.

"I'm not small, I'm human sized." You reply defensively. "We can't all be eight foot tall Eldritch abominations."

Slender laughs more and pats your head. "Of course. I'm sorry."

His hand withdraws and you shift around, sitting against Jack's chest, facing Slender's. "Alright, continue what you two were doing."

Before Slender gets a chance to protest Jack grabs him and yanks him forward, sandwiching you again between the two of them. He knows exactly what your game is LJ leans up, kissing Slender softly. Slender wraps his arms around the both of you, squeezing you in between them. You reach up and unbutton his blazer, then slip your hands under it, caressing his hips and hugging him against you. You lean up and nuzzle your face against his chest, his tie swinging in front of your nose. You smile wide and inhale deeply. He smells like petrichor and the pages of old, worn books. And wine. If Slender wasn’t an eldritch being that (presumably) can’t get intoxicated that’d be concerning. But instead it’s just another aspect of him you love. You open your eyes and look up at the two of them. Despite Slender’s lack of mouth, the two of them move against each other almost in sync. Jack tilts his head a bit, deepening the kiss and pressing against him more. It's- less of a kiss and more Slender getting his face eaten by a clown. You still love the sight though. Seeing them being so passionate with one another is one of your favorite things. You love them, and they love you as well as each other, and you couldn’t be more thankful.

‘’Mmh...Slen,’’ Jack pulls away from the kiss ‘’Ya feel tense. Ya okay?’’

‘’Hm?’’ Slender’s hand slides down your back as he looks at Jack. ‘’No, I’m okay. A little tired I suppose but-’’

‘’A li’le?’’ Jack gives him a suspicious look. ‘’When’s th’ last time ye blew off any steam? Er tried ta relax?’’

‘’Well...I took Slendra to the park the other day.’’

‘’Tha’ wuz five days ago.’’

‘’Well- how about when the three of us watched a movie together?’’

‘’That was last week.’’ you pipe up. Jack gives Slender a dissatisfied look. You move away from Slender and give him the sternest look you can. He looks away from you both nervously.

‘’Maybe I’ve been working a tad hard- but it’s nothing, honestly.’’ he murmurs. Jack glares at him.

"Ya ‘ave ta be careful wiv yerself, Slen…" he murmurs. Slender sighs.

‘’I’m sorry, love…’’ he murmurs. Jack pecks a kiss onto his face again.

"It's fine." He murmurs. ‘’We’ll jus’ ‘ave ta make ya relax.’’ he adds with a grin. Slender blushes. You pat his chest because well- it's the only thing you can do. He moves a bit, giving you more wiggle room. You lean up and drape your arms over Slender's shoulders, resting them directly on top of Jack's. You close the gap between the two of you and kiss his mouth- er- where his mouth should be. He leans against you, tilting his head as if he had lips for you to work with. You hear Jack chuckle gently behind you. His head rests on your shoulder, grinning lazily as he watches the two of you. His arms move a bit, and you assume he’s rubbing circles into Slender’s back. You pull away from Slender for a moment and catch LJ’s eye. A smirk curls up your face and you lean into Slender again. You kiss him gently, making him melt into you, and then slowly...you slip out your tongue and lick where his mouth would be.

You’re abruptly shoved away while Slender makes a series of loud clicking noises that you definitely weren't expecting from him. He coughs, clearing his throat and looks away from you both. His face is flushed a dark grey. It’s silent for a few moments before you hear raspy laughing next to you. LJ chuckles, softly at first, and then louder until it’s full blown wheezing and cackling. You fight a smile, then let out a soft laugh, and then chuckles, until eventually you’re howling with laughter over- well, nothing really that funny. Jack hugs you tight, cackling into your shoulder while you wipe at tears.

‘’It’s not that funny.’’ Slender mutters. The two of you wheeze together.

‘’I’ kinda is.’’ Jack wheezes out. ‘’Ye go’ so flustered ye star’ed speakin’ fae-’’ He adds before breaking into chuckles again. You grin. So that’s what that was.

‘’Damn I’m better than I thought.’’ you murmur. Jack wheezes beside you, burying his face in your shoulder.

‘’Aw fock I love ye.’’ he wheezes out. You grin wider. Slender makes a ‘hmph’ noise and frowns.

‘’Neither of you can ever behave yourselves, can you?’’ he grumbles.

‘’You like it when we misbehave.’’ you reply with a wink. He flushes a darker colour and glares at you before looking away again. He folds his arms and makes another couple of quiet clicking noises. You glance at Jack for a translation. He shrugs at you and sits up, looking at Slender.

‘’So...do I ge’ ta lick ya too or-’’

‘’Yes but I’m going to hate every second of it.’’ Jack snickers and leans in to him. His grey tongue flicks out and licks where Slender’s mouth should be. Slender’s face scrunches up in disgust and Jack pulls away. ‘’Disgusting, thank you.’’

Jack laughs and leans in again, kissing Slender. You wind your arms around Slender and kiss along his jawline. He lets out a quiet, pleased sigh at the joint attention. Jack’s hand combs through your hair. You lean down a bit, pecking kisses down Slender’s neck. Carefully, you reach up and loosen his tie. Slender inhales sharply. You know him too well at this point; he gets especially flustered about his tie being touched, for some unknown reason. You loosen it just enough to undo the top button of his shirt and lean in, peppering kisses on the newly exposed skin. You hear a couple more clicking noises, followed by Jack making a gravelly hum.

And then you hear it.

The sound of ripping flesh, right above you. Your eyes widen in horror at the unexpected noise. Slowly, you cast your eyes up and stare in shock.

Sitting above you, you see Jack panting, his eyes closed and Slender...you shiver involuntarily as you stare up at him. His face is ripped open, exposing a jagged hole that forms a mouth. His true mouth. Hanging out of it is a long, black tongue. You stare in shocked horror. His mouth- his true mouth, is something you’ve only seen twice before. Once when you walked into his office without knocking, and the other when he actually sat you down and tried to calmly show you it. You don’t want to admit it, but the image of Slender’s mouth, especially his tongue, has haunted you ever since. So actually seeing it up close and personal...is certainly an experience. Your stomach lurches and you swallow as you stare at Slender, who slowly looks down at you. His tongue quickly retracts back into his mouth.

‘’Sorry dear.’’ he murmurs. His voice is deeper with his true mouth exposed, and his voice seems to swarm around you, seeping directly into your skull. It’s accompanied by a slight ringing noise, like a second voice mimicking him. His mouth closes, the skin of his face melding back together like nothing happened. ‘’I didn’t mean to scare you-’��

‘’No no it’s okay!’’ you cut in quickly. Slender recoils slightly. You gulp. ‘’I know Jack is used to it- right?’’ you look over your shoulder at your other boyfriend. He nods. ‘’So I can get used to it too- and it doesn’t really scare me much! I just- wasn’t ready-’’

Slender fiddles with his hands. ‘’I don’t want to scare you off- I-I know it’s a lot and you’re a human and you’re so fragile and-’’

‘’Slen.’’ he’s interrupted by Jack, who reaches up and caresses his face. ‘’It’s alrigh’...ye’re no’ g’nna. y/n’s g’nna luv ya no ma’er wha’.’’ his voice is soft and loving. Just by listening to him you can hear over a century’s worth of trust of love. Slender relaxes. He looks over at you, not saying a word.

‘’I’m not scared.’’ you say gently. Very slowly, you lean in to Slender, gripping his shoulders gently. His hands brush against your hips as you close the gap between the two of you. You kiss him again, lips gently brushing against smooth face. Jack’s arms wrap around the both of you, his hands running up Slender’s back and rubbing circles into it. You pause for a moment and gently run your tongue against where his mouth was previously. You hear the quiet noise of flesh ripping again, then feel a meek, black tongue brush against your lips. You tilt your head and open your mouth for him. Slender’s tongue slides into your mouth and quickly begins to explore. It runs along your teeth, the inside of your cheeks, the top of your mouth- everywhere. You don’t fight against him, you want him comfortable, and melt against the kiss. Slender’s hand reaches up and cups your face, tilting you up against him. You groan into the kiss. Any and all anxieties you had previously have melted away. Now the only thing you’re focused on is the feeling of his tongue in your mouth.

Much to your disappointment, he moves away, leaving you gasping for air. While you’re catching your breath Jack leans in and kisses Slender. It’s only fair he gets his turn, you suppose. You lean against Jack again. Your breathing is shaky, and you feel adrenaline rushing through you. Before you're able to fully compose yourself however, Jack's hand cups your face and pushes it over towards his. Your lips meet unexpectedly and you shiver. His tongue drags along your lips and you open your mouth for him.

Jack's tongue is much thicker than Slender's, and much rougher. Slender's tongue was gentle, curious, but Jack? Jack is well acquainted with your mouth by now. You push your own tongue against his, fighting against him. He grabs the underside of your face, forcibly holding you in place as your tongues wrestle. He's far too forceful and you know you don't have much of a chance against him. You moan against him and he pulls away, a string of saliva hanging between you two. Gross.

Jack's face scrunches up in disgust. "...didja 'ave fish fer lunch?"

"Yes?"

"Bleh." He shakes his head at you disapprovingly and reaches into his sleeve, pulling out some strawberry flavored candies. "Ere, eat these will ye?"

You glare at him. "Rude." You mutter as you take the candies. You eat them only because they taste nice and definitely not because you want more clown kisses. He snickers.

"This is what I lived with for over a century." Slender says with the most deadpan expression a faceless man can give. You laugh. Jack leans in again and gives you a quick kiss, his tongue running around your mouth only for a couple moments.

"Alrigh' we're good."

"At least take me to dinner first." You mutter. Jack wheezes again and, surprisingly, Slender chuckles. You watch him shrug off his suit jacket and neatly fold it up beside him. Jack leans into you.

"Th' jackets comin' off, ya fink we're ge'in' i' tonigh'?" He whispers before receiving a light slap from one of Slender's tendrils. He lets out a small yelp of surprise and rubs at his cheek where he was slapped. "Wha' wuz tha' fer?!"

"For not getting your mind out of the gutter." Slender replies, removing his tie. You chuckle. Slender's tendrils reach over and grab you both. You're set down gently in Slender's lap, his hands gently holding you by the shoulder and back, while Jack is plopped down behind Slender.

"Wha're we doin' now?" Jack's head rests on top of Slender's shoulder while his striped arms curl around his body, hands running down his white shirt curiously.

"I'm going to relax with my two partners, and we're going to stop making sexual remarks about one another."

"No promises." Jack chuckles back.

A tendril curls up and pushes your chin, tilting your head up. Your mouths meet again, and you hear the ripping once more. It's less scary now that you know what it's leading to.

His tongue carefully slips into your mouth, running along your teeth and your own tongue. You push gently against him, taking in the feeling of him. His tongue is thin and smooth, and slides curiously around your mouth. He tastes of wine and something sweet. You can't identify what it is but the flavor is almost intoxicating.

His tongue curls and wraps around yours, constricting it almost like a snake. You shudder and melt into him, your hands gripping his shirt tightly. His tongue unwinds and instead slowly slides to the back of your mouth. His tongue slides down your throat and you shudder violently, your body convulsing from the overwhelment of the situation.

Involuntarily, you moan against him and his tongue withdraws from your throat. He pulls away from you, breathing gently. "Are you okay dear?" You breath deeply for a few moments, trying to remember what planet you're on before giving a slight nod. "Was that too much?"

"It-" you glance aside. "It...was a lot…but I think I'm okay." You smile up at Slender and Jack, who's peeking over his shoulder at you. He smirks a bit.

"Ye don't 'alf know 'ow ta trea' some'ne, do ya china pla'e?"

Slender turns to him. "Oh shush. You'll get your turn." He murmurs before turning back to you. He leans in again and peppers gentle kisses along your face and down your neck. You feel his tongue against your throat, making you shiver again and let out a small sigh of pleasure. He moves up again and gently holds your face in his hands. His forehead presses against yours and he feels deliciously warm against you. The smell of petrichor envelops you again, this time accomplished by the smell of flowers, probably from Jack.

"I love you." He breathes. His voice seems to fill your skull, making your thoughts hazy and dumb. You relax into him, letting his warmth envelop you.

"I love you too…" you murmur to him. "Both of you."

Slender's hand gently runs down your back and you hear him clicking again. And although you don't speak fae, something tells you they're sweet, affectionate nothings.

#ask #anon #anonymous #slenjack #poly slenjack #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #Slenderman #slenderman x reader #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack #writing #request #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fanfic

50 notes · View notes

firebrands · 5 years

Text

stevetony fic recs

BUCKLE UP MY DUDES THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG ONE

here are my recs for steve/tony fics that i seriously think need a ton more love! (aka, have less than a 1k kudos lol)

starts w angsty recs, then fluff, then pwps

Pyriscence by @nostalgicatsea, 6.9k, MCU

written pre-release of endgame, but damn. so good. i cried.

She also knows this: Tony handed over his heart to Steve—to all of them but most of all to Steve—along with the keys to his house the day he recruited them.

Even if Steve knew that, Natasha isn’t sure he would keep it anyway. She knows he thinks himself undeserving.

She knows it’s because he loves Tony.

A Long, Lonely Time by asktheravens, 58.5k, MCU

holy SHIT, this was a WILD FUCKING RIDE. totally unique.

Author’s summary: Steve returned from the war injured in body and mind- and able to see the dead. At loose ends and desperate to get out of New York City, he accepts a fellowship through the Stark Foundation and retreats to a quiet lake house on the grounds of the Stark Mansion. He's supposed to be there to paint, but he quickly realizes that the house is more than he bargained for. Anthony Stark died here a decade ago, but was it an accident? A suicide? Or a murder? Obadiah Stane still lives in the main house just up the hill, and the past casts a long shadow.

A Cabin in the Woods by nightwalker @onemuseleft, 26.7k, MCU I really don't want to spoil this but this fic has it ALL - fluff, funny dialogue, and ELDRITCH HORRORS

Author’s summary: It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, a chance for them to spend some time as a couple and work out some of the kinks in their relationship. That was before everything got weird.

Steve Rogers is a Tactical Genius by @swankyo0, 2.6k, MCU

I love when Steve is assertive and knows what he’s doing (in terms of romancing Tony)

“What’s up, Cap?” Tony’s voice is light but Steve can tell it’s forced.

“Tony Stark, you and I are going out,” Steve starts, his voice a bit more commanding than he had planned. “We are going to get dinner at a nice place, and I’m going to open doors for you and let you pay because you are a stubborn ass. I’m going to bring you a gift and you are going to accept it because I am a stubborn ass. And at the end of the night I am going to walk you to your door and there will be a kiss good night, because I’m gonna do this right, damn it.”

when i run out of road, you bring me home by @quidhitch, 18.4k, MCU

Tony buys a farm. Steve lives in the farm beside Tony's. (Featuring: Riri Williams!)

“It’s no use trying to keep him out, Tony supposes. He learned a long time ago that he could plaster his whole body with signage declaring ‘WARNING: HAZARDOUS MATERIAL’, and it would only further tempt Steve Rogers’ self-immolating tendencies.”

call me, maybe by ohmyloki @bootycap, 1.8k, MCU

Tony hums, bouncing up to the balls of his feet for a second as he looks around the gallery. “I’ve got an idea.”

Steve narrows his eyes at him. “I’ve only just met you but I get the feeling that phrase tends to get you in trouble.”

Tony laughs, and Steve’s heart does what feels like a little pirouette in his chest.

“You have no idea how right you are, Steve.”

There’s a deep sense of satisfaction in the way Tony says his name. He wants to hear it again. Which is partly why he can’t be blamed for what comes out of his mouth next.

let me be the one (who never leaves you all alone) by ohmyloki @bootycap, 11.7k, MCU

It was Tony’s wide, brilliant eyes, the rare full-blown smile when he’d accomplished something he’d struggled with, the way he couldn’t seem to stop himself from talking when he came up with a new idea and wanted to show off. Like an excited little kid, ever at odds with the man who drank too much and thought too little of himself. These thoughts of Tony’s kindness, generosity and brilliant mind ran an undercurrent beneath the fantasy of Tony’s slick, tanned skin, and perfectly shaped upper lip. That was when it struck Steve.

Maybe he could have this. Maybe he could have Tony... if Tony would have him.

Get Down On Your Knees And Tell Me You Love Me by @heartsandmuses, 5.1k, MCU

Author’s summary: When Steve opens the page to this month’s calendar, he freezes as he catches sight of a reminder in the space for next Friday, exactly a week from now. PROPOSAL!

Motherlode by nanasekei @elcorhamletlive, 6.8k, MCU

Author’s summary: After Steve returns, though they've made up, his relationship with Tony remains distant.

“Great,” Steve says, smiling brightly, and Tony can’t, he just can’t handle that smile. It makes him want to float and giggle and dance and do all sorts of crazy things. It makes him want to kiss Steve.

He clutches his hands, giving in to one indulgence over the insane, dangerous other. “Awesome. That’s, that’s awesome.” Then, out of sheer despair, he reaches for another salmon roll, popping it in his mouth.

On the plus side, it gives something to busy his mouth with that isn’t, you know, Steve’s lips. On the down side, he’s now awkwardly chewing with a full mouth in front of Steve.

That seems to remind Steve of the forgotten pig-in-a-blanket on his hand, and he hurriedly eats it, cheeks flushing a little.

So now they’re both chewing. It’s great.

if I time it right, the thunder breaks (when I open my mouth) by nanasekei @elcorhamletlive, 11.9k, MCU

Or: Five Times Steve told Tony he loved him, and one time he didn't need to.

“That is the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever done for me.” He pauses for a moment, winded, and Tony looks at him now, mouth curling to fight back what Steve knows would be a self-satisfied smile. “I love you.”

Tony freezes.

Steve… Steve wonders for a second what the best course of action would be, going through all the options, including running to the garden and asking Thor to drown him in the pool for good. He has no idea why it slips out now, exactly, but at this point he has no idea what tiny thing Tony is going to do that’s going to cause a fluttering feeling in his chest.

Strategic Thinking: Armor Wars Edition by Annie D (scaramouche) @no-gorms, 1.8k, Avengers Academy

Tony tries to pull his hand away, but it’s half-hearted. Tony’s neck is flushed pink, which Steve finds far more charming that he probably should. But that’s all right – it’s Tony, who makes Steve think all sorts of things he’d never before.

Every True Thing by @dirigibleplumbing, 3.9k, MCU

Author’s summary: After escaping captivity, Steve and Tony go to a safe house. Ordinarily, it would just be boring. But they’ve both been dosed with truth serum…

“You like it, then?”

“Of course I like it, it’s you.”

“But, I don’t want you to like it just because it’s me, I want you to like it because I’m good at it. You’re good at it, you—know what you’re doing.” Steve blurts this into Tony’s neck, glad that he doesn’t have to look Tony in the face while he speaks.

Mission: Improbable by @cptxrogers, 5.6k, Avengers Assemble Author's summary: Tony is called on to investigate strange events which have been occurring in the upper echelons of society recently. There's just one small issue - he needs Steve to pose as his date for the evening.

Tony glanced around. “I think they’ve moved on. We can get back to work now.” “Are you sure?” Steve asked, a little too quickly. Perhaps the men might still be around. Perhaps might come back. Perhaps they’d need to hide by kissing some more.

Steve Rogers Does (Not Do) Marriage Counseling by Neverever @captainneverever , 6.4k, MCU

Tony stared incredulously at Steve. “Are you that dense?” “No,” Steve replied miserably. “Basically, you’re telling me that you wouldn’t know what to do if someone made a pass at you.” “I wouldn’t know what a pass is or was. That’s what I’m saying.” “So you wouldn’t call shoving your hand on my ass a pass?”

The Fear of Consequences by @keptein, 4.5k, MCU Author's summary: It really isn't a problem. Then one day, Tony looks at Steve and thinks, shit. It might be mutual.

“Cap,” Tony says helplessly. The tomatoes roll around on the brown tile, barely visible in the tower's automatic night light settings.

Steve looks angry, and Tony's suddenly reminded that shit, this guy fought in World War II. It's not usually something you can see on his face. “Why are you avoiding me?” he asks, without preamble, eyes never leaving Tony's face.

“I.. haven't been?” It comes out a question, which really wasn't what Tony wanted at all. “I mean, I haven't been avoiding you, of course I haven't. I've just been busy, you know, Iron Man maintenance, and just because Pepper's CEO of Stark Industries now doesn't mean I don't have to do shit, unfortunately.“ He bends down to avoid Steve's stare and starts to pick up the tomatoes, until he feels Steve's large, warm hand on his shoulder. It startles him into looking up, still bent down with his hand reaching for a tomato. “Cap,” Tony says, and is absurdly proud when the name doesn't lose its warning tint.

Together, At Dawn by RoseGoldAmpersand, 8.1k, MCU

Lingering in his past and missed opportunities, Steve was overcome with the urge to check in on his teammate. As team captain, it was the right thing to do. Nobody would know he had taken a detour. Nobody would suspect he lingered because he ached to see Tony look at him again with eyes bright with friendship. If he couldn't help his Tony, he was making damn sure this Tony knew that Steve Rogers would always be there for him.

a properly scholarly attitude by goodmorningbeloved, 2.9k, college AU

“You were thinking of something. I knew that look, what was—”

“You,” he answers without hesitation. “I was thinking of you. How good you look with those on, how—” He bites his own lip hard, angling his head away from Tony’s kiss in shame. “I— Tony, you’re tired, and we’re in the library—”

Wash That Man (right out of my hair) by @mizzy2k, 7k, comics - 616, sorta pwp?

Holy shit. Holy shit. He'd assumed when Tony said he had a brand new body that it was a metaphor, a dramatic exaggeration, not a completely new unrecognizable-as-Tony-Stark body.

“Hey, Cap!” Tony beams widely at him, his mustache twitching with the smile. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Haha,” Steve says, “yeah.” Smooth. That’s Steve Rogers for you. Eloquent under pressure.

Nicotine Hit by @festiveferret, 7.5k, MCU, pwp

The idea of Steve smoking in secret wormed its way into Tony’s brain and wouldn’t let go. It was the worst kind of craving, vague and misdirected, because it came in the shape of Steve instead of the nicotine hit he knew he really wanted. He associated Steve with the ritual of smoking and it got so bad he couldn’t look at the man without starting to feel antsy and wound up.

voglio sentirti by lackluster_lexicon @usenecessaryforce , 4.2k, MCU, bdsm

Tony closed the distance between them, unwound his arms to grab hold of the front of Steve’s shirt. Steve hissed in surprise, wrapped his hands around Tony’s wrists, but when Tony put the full force of his body into pulling Steve forward, Steve willingly dropped to his knees. Tony released Steve’s shirt, moved one hand to Steve’s shoulder and grasped Steve’s hair with the other, pulled Steve’s head back and forced him to look up at Tony.

“You’re going to beg,” Tony growled.

Side Effects by @elimymoons , 29.2k, comics - ultimates, bdsm

"You… what?" Steve's breath caught. He felt off-kilter, out of time, like he'd just woken up again and found everything flipped on its axis, but this time it felt good and right, and he just wanted to take Tony in his arms and never let go. "You love me?" he asked, soft, reverent almost. Tony Stark loved him, Steve Rogers, who— who swore too much, whose best friend wore dentures because his teeth all fell out, who talked better with his fists than his words most days. Steve Rogers, a ham-handed, bumbling oaf a man, and sweet, suave, wonderful Tony Stark loved him. "You love me?" he asked again, and Steve could feel his lips pulling back into a wide, beaming grin.

#fic recs #fanfic writer appreciation day #stevetony #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony fanfiction #stevetony fanfic #i tried my best to find everyone's tumblrs!#THANK YOU ALL YOU HAVE BROUGHT SUCH JOY TO MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#fic rec list

1K notes · View notes

danidoesathing · 4 years

Note

Slenderverse zombie appocalypse au??? Maybe some Michael x Jay in that au??

OH?????

I’ve never thought of that, but......hm.....

-There are different types of zombies, ranging from the basic kinds to abnormalities to people being turned into other people entirely to Eldritch like horrors. The disease was all started by a mysterious man, no one truly knows how it all began but he was long lost the sickness. Most of the “zombies” are being controlled by monstrous horrors that are smarter and stronger than the rest.

-The EMH guys being a typical survival group, Evan being the tank, Jeff being the sniper, Vin being a strategist, Alex generally just being Alex, steph being a trap setter, and dr corenthal being the....doctor. They’re a close knit family and a powerhouse when working together

-Noah is slowly turning into....something. Not quite a normal zombie but something smarter, more powerful. His friends and cousin has already turned into on of them, and noah is just trying to fight it off as long as he can.

-Hawkins slowly being turned by the sickness. Infected but is prolonging it as long as they can until they can find the cure. They are the last of their team.

-Stan working on a cure after losing his entire family to the illness. He can get rid of it at an early stage but he’s still working on full blown cure with his wife, traveling around and recording everything

-Jay and Tim being a pair for survival and being on the run from another infected, Alex. They get separated after Alex’s shoots and injures jay. Jay falls and passes out and Tim can’t find him and assumes he’s dead and runs.

-Jay is found by Michael, an infected individual with a separate personality slowly developing and taking over, and saves him. Jay wakes up and the two choose to pair up, Jay thinking that Tim was either dead or abandoned him. They work together and grow.....close.

-Michael’s new....body mate, Patrick, is more interested in survival rather than taking over Michael so the two just sort of work out a deal to share. It’s better than trying to fight for it and Jay just shooting the both of them.

-They end up living in some abandoned farmhouse and stay there rather than keep moving around. It’s new to the both of them but they’re trying. They patch it up as best as they can and begin to really trust and care about one another.

-I mean what’s more romantic than killing zombies with your partner 😳

-Tim does eventually kill Alex, and Brian along with him. It’s better than staying like “that” he supposes.

-Idk maybe....a storyline where Tim finds there farm and jay and Tim have an....”happy reunion” (aka Tim gets punched in the face by a very pissed jay)

-Maybe another one where emh guys start to fall apart cause of habit....or noah joins the emh guy’s group.....ooooo I got ideas

#ask #asks #dani speaks #tristen #Slenderverse #marble hornets #mh #MLAndersen0 #EverymanHYBRID #emh #TribeTwelve #t12 #Stan Frederick #sf #jay/michael

11 notes · View notes

thankyouforchoosingoptionone · 5 years

Text

Eldritch Book one Cht 1

The salt on the wind left his lips dry and cracked, too many days at sea. He didn’t keep track of it he just tried to sleep the most of them away, though it's hard to sleep when you are force to stand, or other wise hang by the wrists as shoulder height shackles keep you bound. The chains of the shackles were engraved with Elven spells made specifically for him. The inhibit manna flow and prevented him from using his magic. The dark confines of his cell were made even lonelier when you count he was the only prisoner being transported. He sat against the white oak of the ship the best he could with the irons digging into his wrists.

He felt the irons bite, but soon he smiled to the sweet feeling of exhaustion and sleep. He was sure he was being taken to be executed, so this was luxury to him, a bit of sleep again. "You're not done yet.". He awoke to the sudden and deafening blow of a cannon ball through the hull, blasting apart the steel bars of his cage and sending a scatter spray of splinters all directions. "Good morning to you too…" He jests with a smirk in his cage. A bell starts ringing full speed above him, he laughs at the music of chaos the elves displayed. "The yellow skins act like they've never been attacked by pirates."

Outside the ship, a massive Golden wood built ship with crimson sails was attacking this prisoner cargo carrier. Cannons lined in triangular triple gun patterns on the top row, but single more tight together on the bottom. The figurehead bore 3 serpent like necks connecting to individual unique dragon heads. The elven captain, dressed in his fancy whites and blues, only could whisper to himself from fear, "The Ghidorah" .

Atop the helm of this battleship, the captain stood looming over a crew of mixed bloods. Hybrids, orcs, humans and one Sea Elf. The captain himself, dressed wearing only leather pants, a tightly woven burlap type shirt, and leather jacket, was the great Dagon Dragmouth. Orange scales covering the body of this lumbering Dragonkin, with his wings tucked onto his shoulders as a cape. He smiled with a maw of daggers as smoke left his nostrils like trails from a burning pipe. "Fire the Scatter!" . His command booms to the lower decks of his ship as a team of crew mates push forward one of the triple guns. The cannons weld together with one powder chamber in the rear, loaded with shrapnel of broken chains, rusted bladed, and fractured cannon balls. They ignite the fuse and the guns fire in a horrible noise. The shrapnel tears through the first hole made, making it big enough to fit a crew through.

The Wiseman looked at his right hand, the shrapnel cannons blown past his hand, ripping the one shackle off with little damage to his flesh. "That’s stupid luck. Thank you impossible odds" He jests to himself again and stops when the silhouette of Dagon himself shown through the light of the ship's hole. Small waves of water would manage to reach up to his feet as he walked past the broken threshold he made. He laughs as he witnesses thirteen elven soldiers lined up in their ridiculous Black iron armor with the gilded trims. Dagon draws two massive scimitar swords, the heat from his throat was so hot the Wiseman could feel it, "whoa big guy wait!" but his warning went unheard and the Flames from the Dragonkin went fast and hot, setting fire to much of the wood it contacted with. The elves seemed to vanish inside the flames, until it was done burning. Once his mouth shut The elves stood unharmed. Red Manna runes engraved in the armor they wore shielded them.

The Pirate lizard was taken back, growling and without aid at this level he stepped back. Suddenly, 3 portals opened around the group of soldiers. Purple rings of alien writings spin making these portals causing distraction to the elves and even Dagon at this moment. The first portal, directly above the elves, dropped a swarm of slime spitting winged creatures, like scaled bats with mouths on the belly and no head. The slime they spit was stinky and stuck to them very well. One small creature taking interest in Dagon spit at his face as well and flew off. All the creatures return to the first portal once all elves have been coated. Dagon wiped his face.

The other two portals released strange tentacles covered in some kind of chitin carapace, tipped with pincer claws found on crabs but wider with bowl like openings in the very center. These claw tentacles moved quick and made short work of the elven troops. Eviscerating and devouring them as they try to fight back. The elven steel cuts through the chitin easily but there are far too much of them and soon the tentacles retreat into the portals, having consumed all elves. Dagon looked upon the scene in awe and shock, but not horror. He turned his head to the laughs of the Wiseman who had one hand freed and seemed to be the source of this scene. His eyes burned a purple haze that matched the rings. This haze, while unworldly, faded away soon. The Wiseman smirks "let me out…we share an enemy.".

Dagon sheathed his blades looking at this human. He never had before seen that kind of magic, it gave him a terrible feeling of familiarity. He had questions and this human didn’t seem to be a threat to him. The sea elf ran down stairs with two gun axes in his hands, ready to take on whatever he thought made that noise. Not expecting to see Dagon freeing the sole prisoner on the ship. "Oi, Captain?! What made all that noise? And..All this blood" he questioned, looking down at his bare feet now slick from walking in the elven blood. The Sea elf had blue green skin, and a set of frills around his neck with green hair he kept tied under a red bandanna. His teeth were like shark's razor and serrated. Dagon smirks, "A new crewmate Innsmouth, mr. …?" The Wiseman smiled brightly, and kindly. You can call me Thomas…Thomas Eldritch."

Dagon drew a blade from his belt "Can you use one of these?" and gives the handle end to Thomas, holding the blade in his claw. Thomas nods taking the heavy steel with both hands and smiled again. Innsmouth tilts his head to the side at the grin on Thomas's face. "You sure Cap'n? He looks….Sweet like" Dagon walked past him with an impatience in his step and tone, "Better this than that unholy image he burned in my brain just before.."

Both Thomas and Innsmouth fallowed Dagon out of the smoldering underbelly of the ship. Topside his crew have subdued the last of the elves they did not kill. A few bodies scatter on the deck, mostly of the yellow skinned elven soldiers. Dagon came up the stairway to the topside. He looked at the ship around him "Tell me why a Highborn Prison ship has double crew here for one single man?" There was a clueless silence about Thomas, "Oh wait your asking me? Well because I'm the Aberration." Dagon, Innsmouth, and any crew in earshot looked at Thomas in disbelief. Thomas rolled his eyes, walking towards the captain's quarters of the elven ship and retuning with a log book.

The book was small and bound with linen that was resin soaked all over except the spine which remained soft linen. Leather straps acted as the muscle of the spine of the book. Dagon peers into the book of the last most recorded date. 6 weeks ago, and only one prisoner, Aberration was put in the last name category, leaving the first name blank Dagon looked Thomas dead in the eye, the silence broke with Dagon's laugh. "Of all the ships on all the seas, I find the one holding the oldest living thing on this world! And it turns out, the legendary Aberration the elves love to hate and hate to fear, is a Fucking Human!" Thomas laughed with him "I mean I'm far from Human at this point." They laughed together for a moment, until Innsmouth felt need to interrupt, "Cap'n, she's burning hot we best go now". Dagon wiped his jaw and nods, "Aye, leave the Yellow skins and take nothing. We have the big prize here". Thomas couldn’t help but feel his vanity make him smile.

The Pirate crew bind the legs and arms of the elven crew, leaving them aboard the slow burning ship they dared to serve that day. Innsmouth took the helm of the Ghidorah and began his sailing away. Dagon taking Thomas below deck to the Galley, filled with the smell of salt meat, pickled vegetables, and fermented fruits. "The stink of a real pirate ship" Thomas smirked as he looked around. Dagon nods proudly, "Aye, if you don’t want to puke you're not on a pirate ship. Go ahead mate get some fill in you. Damn highborns must've starved you." Thomas had no hesitation to begin his inhalation of the food and drink. Dagon laughed, knowing any prisoner on an elven ship would think this food Gourmet compared to the stale bread and cold slop the elves fed you. "Come back topside when you feel acclimated mate. We need to have words and I do my thinking in the wind.".

After eating himself a food baby belly, Thomas walked up the steps of the Ghidorah and felt the breeze of the wind tug at his long brown hair. He smiled, tearing off the rag garb tunic he wore leaving only his short trousers. He spread his arms to the wind and took a deep breath "Taste different, Don’t it?" Thomas looked to the port side of the ship, A young Uru orc boy smirked at him. His red skin covered in pirate tattoos, bearing no shirt and a face like a bald wolf "You got pulled off the ship, a prisoner. The air was bitter, gross, stale. But now the wind carries the taste of Freedom on the wind and it tastes sweeter right?" The orc smiled at him and walked up, offering his hand "Name's Jackoo, Quartermaster." Thomas smiled and shook his hand, then grimaced a bit at the orc's grip, "Remember my face, your going to know it a lot, and Remember my grip and hope I don’t have to use it again". Thomas laughed, his smile was goofy and entertained "I like you already, Just call me Th" "I heard your name, Eldritch. Know your place and we'll get along fine". Thomas had to tilt his head in confusion, "And what's my place on this ship?". Jackoo pointed to the bow, where Dagon stood staring at the waves. "That's for the captain to decide. Best get now".

Thomas approached Dagon slowly, not to disturb a man in thought. He was barely up to Dagon's armpits, the man was so big. Not tall but big, and wide. Dagon's voice lost it's rumble now, a beast calmed by the wind spoke to Thomas now, "My da once told me that the seas would take men to where they need to be. You just had to trust them. Break that trust, or doubt their hold and you damn yourself. Sailors only request direction, its her choice to take you there…" He looked at Thomas, "..and here we are, Two men of equal infamy to the Highborn Order. The sea pushed us together mate, now we must figure out if it's Damnation or Salvation."

Thomas looked at him listening close. Then he looked at the water below the ship racing past. "I hear the incredible urge to jump into that water or off of a really tall place like the nest up there." He jests pointing. "But the voices that actually are there wont leave me alone about my, air quotes, duties". Dagon just stares. This madness was just that to him, madness. "Why do the elves hate you?" He demanded. "You mean you don’t know that much?"

Dagon shook his head at the question when he wanted an answer "Everyone knows the basic Bull..Your a human who doesn’t age…from before history was written, and you preach gods that don’t exist and use magic that shouldn’t exist."

"Don’t forget the part where I was taught an alien language and now all humans and a few other races speak it. How's that for a mind fuck?"

Dagon smirked at the logic for a bit but then had to ask "What's and alien?" Thomas had to think. He smiled very manically when he found his answer, "Well, something so obviously not from this world that is a living being of some shape or form. Examples. " he spins his wrists upside down and forms 3 new small purple spell rings, creating the portals in the ring. The center most portal raises a small sentient warrior inside a glass dome. The warrior had 6 arms and 4 legs with segmented plates along the spine, scaled male going over the limbs. His weapons seemed to be tiny forms of riffles with jagged bayonetted ends. The left most portal made a sort of dog creature but made of stone. The creature was infant in state and sleeping softly. Woken by the angry cries of the warrior next to it, though the warrior was not attacking the dog. It was attempting to attack the right most portal creature with futility. The portal raised a beast that was mechanical in origins but with science unknown to the pirate captain. Colors of red green and yellow strings wove through plates and joints with sounds of fluids moving metal rods and cylinders to move limbs. The machine beast was also trying to attack the warrior but prevented by a glass dome.

Once he was sure Dagon understood the word Alien, Thomas returned the creatures through the portals and made the rings vanish. Dagon was dumbfounded, but he certainly took a firm hold of alien now. He quickly took annoyance to the joy Thomas got from watching Dagon. "…Well I got no more questions right now. So your going to help me out." he started walking back to the stairwell in the middle of the deck. "I am hunting a monster…and your magic is….well I Think I might have found some other kind of alien before I Found you..".

Thomas fallowed, his ears pinned to the voice of the pirate lizard. His hope rose a bit, he wanted the alien to be the same one who changed him those years ago. Thomas had so many more questions of his own he needed to ask that being. He held hope that the alien was not dead. Dagon lead Thomas to a chart room in the ship, no doorway just a corner that holds a map on each wall and a massive globe sitting on a table. Dagon Rolls the globe around and stops it, leaving his finger over the Sea of Monsters. Thomas tilts his head looking at it. "My da and I saw it there...before the beast took his life…". Thomas lost that hope now, but continued to listen. "What did it look like?"

Dagon's tone was low, solemn, and angry, "The beast was 4 times the size of this ship…scales covered it's body like amethyst tile plates. It's spine was traced with broken stone like ridges that stuck out to rip the wood from your keel. It's tail was a single long tentacle covered in tiny little hooks, just like the ones that covered is face…" "It's face..?" Thomas interjected. "Well if you call that mug a face, it bore what was like some freak leviathan squid as a head with the most hideous eyes. It's maw was several beak teeth that spit acid that burns flesh like my flames, it turns wood to mud and combusts in the water…I call it…the Nightmare Dragon."

Thomas nods and looked at the globe "I know what it is, I can help you kill it. But why chase that thing when you seem to be capable as a pirate alone? You are Captain Dagon Dragmouth the most famous pirate ever." Dagon picked up his belt at his sides and let out a deep sigh, "I'll be straight with you mate, I am mid way through my life, and I've yet to find my own MATE if you get me." Thomas nods, understanding the sentiment. "So I want to do one big thing before my…Hiatus lets call it. I want to be able to tuck a wee gecko into bed on a galleon I built myself. This bed will be that monster's bones woven into a glorious nest for my child, and that gecko will look up at me and go, 'Da, tell e again how I got this amazing luxurious bed Da oh please tell me again.' and I'll go on and tell them How I Took it on my own beautiful self to slay this beast in my Da's name just to build my spawn the most perfect nest!"

Thomas and Innsmouth both laugh, Dagon turned his head to face his second mate, "The fu..when did you get here?" Innsmouth salutes like an elf "Oh da please da tell me again" making Thomas laugh hard. Dagon growls at the two making them silent fast. "Point is mate, I want to give my family a legacy, or die trying. What say you Mate??" .

Thomas returned the stares Innsmouth and Dagon were giving him. He sighed a little bit, "What the fuck it'll be fun". Innsmouth and Dagon both cheered, as did Jackoo and the crew above who all eavesdropped through the stairwell. Thomas laughed, he brought Dagon's attention back to the globe. "that creature, we are going to keep the name Nightmare Dragon, so much cooler than what it's called, is going to just sit and huddle in the squid waters. One ship clearly wont work, you need at the least…4 galleons."

"how in the hell do we get 4 fucking galleons when we can barely keep track of 3 brigs?" Jackoo tossed the question at Thomas, who responded by putting his finger on one spot on the globe. Everyone leaned in to see the location, Seaport City. The only human city in the world. Innsmouth jests "Oh Excuse me Queen Annabelle but we PIRATES need to borrow 4 of your Galleons to hunt a monster that eats monsters and turns wooden ships into soup." Dagon smacked Innsmouth on the back of the head, "Seaport has no Dry Dock Construction laws, we can build the boat's ourselves…" Innsmouth rubbed his head and pouts defeated, while Jackoo thinks and looks at Thomas "But how do we fund that?" Thomas smiled, "Your Hunters, pirates, and enemies of the Highborn Order. Queen Annabelle will gladly trade with us any ink, meat, and Beaks you get from squid, as well as spoils taken by the elves."

Dagon nods "It'll take some years to do it, getting it off the ground earning her favor and what not." Innsmouth interjected again "some time means like twenty years or what ever, that’s fucking forever." Jackoo glared, "yeah for me, you’re a newt, he doesn’t age, and captain is a Dragonkin.". "Call me a newt again you mud born little.." Dagon growled, "Enough, we are sailing to Seaport…We build the Galleons to Eldritch's specifications, as long as it takes to do it.". The Ghidorah ship began it's sail towards the most diverse city on the planet, and home to the last of the human race.

#monsters #cthulhu #Kaiju #pirates #elves #orcs #dragons #dragon #magic #magics #gods #devils #eldritch #fantasy #writer #writing #write #writers #amature

3 notes · View notes

ricardo-irving · 2 years

Note

Ricardo to accept his cultural heritage with Los Illuminados and Las Plagas after he completely lost his humanity. Do it 🔪 Ramble about it even. How would he live amongst their society if he fully embraced being a bioweapon?

[You know what...I just might. D8<]

[Ricardo's spent such a long time denying what he is, what he carries inside him because, to him, it's something he's ashamed of but we've all traveled down that road so I'm not going to go over that again. You've all heard it and I'm sure it's getting old.

If Ricardo was to accept Las Plagas and embrace it--not saying he ever will--he might actually find some peace with himself. He's spent so much time despising himself, mourning the loss of his humanity and essentially being in denial of what he is. He's no longer human, but if he could come to terms with it, realize what potential it brings him and the, well, the family it brings, maybe he'd stop feeling so lonely. There's plenty of others like him, those that not only willingly take Las Plagas into their body but worship it. Now that's something that Ricardo would have the hardest time accepting, because Las Plagas are nothing more than products to be sold to the highest bidder. He doesn't see anything divine or holy about them.

Assuming he decided to disappear without a trace and turn up in the modest little religious community Los Illuminados called home, there would definitely be a fish-out-of-water situation, pun intended. First off, he's American and if I recall right, they weren't exactly all that welcome there and the language barrier. Of course, if the bug acts as a sort of Babel Fish, then he might be fine if his mind isn't temporarily blown due to that. As Ricardo has a control Plaga, he might find himself extremely curious about just how it functions among the subservient hosts and that might warrant him getting a very hard smack on the back of the head if it works and he engages in some mischief, like having the villagers or cultists let him "borrow" some of their finer possessions. I'm sure Saddler could easily put the fear of God into Ricardo really quick.

He'd most likely have to be convinced to attend mass and I'm sure the very first one he'd attend would probably be enough to put him into a full blown hyperventilating fit due to the eldritch horrors that would probably abound inside his mind. He'd offer his services as one of the best bio-weapons dealers around to Saddler, promising that any weapon he even has an inkling of selling that he would be able to get double for it and would tell him it'd be child's play spreading Las Plagas across the globe. Hell, he'd be happy to even share his notes on the Type 2 and 3 he helped create in Kijuju.

If Irving would stop denying Las Plagas, I'm pretty sure he'd actually improve his outlook, but he's just spent so long resenting it that this is a very hard barrier to break.]

1 note · View note

selfsaving · 6 years

Text

* & → @applaudemise cont .

’LAUGHING HAD NEVER BEEN AN UNUSUAL SOUND FROM HIM. ‘VILLAINOUS CACKLING OR CHUCKLES TO MAKE ANYONE UNCOMFORTABLE. ‘But since the escape, or the false concept of it that had been given, such had died from his lips. ( NO CAUSE FOR THEM / NOTHING TO BRING IT FROM CRACKED LIPS. ) But here, a man though to have discarded these actions, was quivering with a tittering— - a tittering which quickly became FULL BLOWN HYSTERICS. Blood saturated his form, coming from lacerations and scraps upon upper part of face. (SELF CREATED AS NAILS SHOWED / AS HANDS TOLD). Odd enough in itself, but that wasn’t the end of it. Pupiless blues, a dark red cracking into whites and only DARKENING. And where blood hardened on face, clotting, it was atramentous / LIKE AN INKY BLACK MASK WAS TRYING TO FORM.

’HE HAD BROKEN. ‘THE MAD KING WAS TIRED OF PLAYING WARDEN FOR HIS OWN BODY.Why resist? This would never stop and he could tell that. Why spend the rest of his life, WHAT REMAINED OF IT, SPENDING IT LIKE THIS? A give up that started slow at first, but it was expediting as time passed. TRULY THERE COULD ONLY BE BENEFIT FROM THIS RIGHT? He hadn’t faded, he was still thinking, HIS MIND WAS STILL FUNCTIONING. ❝ -—- Mad Kin–g— - ahaha, no no- ah, WE’RE fine!❞ The words were hissed between the tones of a laugh, HALF FORMED AND CONFUSING / A QUESTION ALMOST FORMED AT THE SPEAKING OF A NAME / EMPHASIS ON SOMETHING THAT MADE NO SENSE. So many things wrong with the situation, SO MANY THINGS. Some indication this wasn’t the man speaking / THAT THING HAD TAKEN CONTROL AGAIN / but then again, there were things wrong with that. (THE ELDRITCH ABOMINATION MAY HAVE LEARNED WORDS, BUT THEY WEREN’T LIKE THIS / IT WAS A CREATURE OF PURE VIOLENCE / PURE HUNGER / PRIMAL AND ANCIENT.). Laughs may stem between breath when IT TOOK CONTROL, but it was always between mortal hand clenched around throat, or unnatural physical miasma leaking to try to drag the warrior back, retrieve another pawn from what it had lost. ❝ -—- We’re fine– - so fine— - better then FINE! ❞ A shake of head, the twitching of hands, THE COLLAPSE OF CONTROL / THE RETRIEVAL OF IT! A hum off of lips, a tilting of head, name said off lips twice ‘Mogar’, playing with it like it wasUNFAMILIAR & UNUSUAL, before a laugh shook his form again.

’WHO ARE YOU REALLY? ‘WORLD WAS SILENT OF THIS QUESTION, MIND SEEMED TO ECHO IT AND BE ABSENT OF IT. Something was very wrong about this, ALL OF THIS. ❝ -—- So much better– - this is so much better.❞ Words silent, but obvious ‘ITS SO MUCH BETTER, GIVE UP TOO!’ And where words contorted, where everything seemed so blurry, A QUESTION COULD RING- WAS THIS THE MONSTER / WAS THIS THE KING / OR WAS THERE EVEN A DIVISION ANYMORE?

OH , HOW MANY THINGS SEEM WRONG HERE. IF THE WORD ‘ WRONG ’ EVEN HAS MEANING ANY MORE. what horrors they have lived through —— atrocities committed at his own hands , yet this is somehow so different from that // while , at the same time , so horrifyingly similar.

BLOOD TRACKING LIKE TEARS OVER THE MAD KING’S FEATURES , laugh a CHILLING tone he’d come to know while in that awful game —— but there are no killers here. no players & no thing waiting in the sky for the losers. then why does it feel so much as if they are back there ? like the same thing that had controlled them then is here now doing THE SAME THING ALL OVER AGAIN.

FEAR JOLTS THROUGH HIS VEINS. COLD & RACING. oh , brave mogar ! scared of a little BLOOD ? of a tone of voice he thought he knew now warped to something unfamiliar. unwanted. the feeling of panic that had been ALIEN to him all the while that power was inside his mind. but now it comes to seize him , stuck like cold metal into his heart. feet are moving backwards , mogar realises , AWAY from this . . . thing. the question that comes next is hiding a shake in his voice. hardly wanting to hear the answer ( although he thinks he knows it already ). “ who is in there ? ” OR WHAT. “ what did the mad king do ? ”

#HOLY MOLY HERE WE GO .#MOGAR.#* & → YOU ARE NOT THE ONE >> MOGAR 🗡🗡 IN CHARACTER .#* & → ALL THESE SORROWS I HAVE SEEN >> MOGAR VERSES 🗡🗡 DEAD BY DAYLIGHT AFTERMATH AU .#blood mention //#body horror mention //

7 notes · View notes

benito-cereno · 6 years

Text

The Further Adventures of Santa Claus, Chapter 2: The Count at the North Pole (finale)

(Chapter 1 part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here. You should definitely read chapter 1 first. Chapter 2 part 1 here.)

Dracula’s fangs sunk deep into the fleshy throat of the exhausted elf he had pinned against the side of a suburban home blissfully unaware that they were to be the site of the apparent death of Santa Claus. But no sooner than the vampire had begun to drink deep of Santa’s veins, he drew back in horror and revulsion.

He pulled his hand away from his hideous jaw, and into his palm dripped a streamy of not the deep, rich red he was expecting, but rather something frothy, white, and cold.

“Milk?” he shrieked in pain and confusion. “MILK???”

But Dracula’s words fell on deaf ears. His shock at the idea that cold milk ran through Santa’s veins was quickly superseded by an entirely new shock. Santa was now standing stock-still, milk gushing out of the holes in his neck like water from a fire hydrant. His knees locked and his arms were thrust straight down at his side. His eyes glowed a bright, incandescent red.

Then an unnatural voice, as if he were yelling through a tin can, blasted from his wide-open mouth, broadcasting, “SANTA DECOY ONE COMPROMISED.”

Santa’s head jerked toward Dracula in one inhuman motion. In the light of his blazing red eyes, a layer of burnished metal showed from under his rent flesh.

“SUNLIGHT BOMB ACTIVATED.”

Dracula barely had time to murmur “what” before this unsuspecting suburban subdivision was lit up like the surface of the sun. Meanwhile:

The South Pole! A tall, candy-striped pole rises high above the snow drifts! It stands as a marker to the southernmost point of this island Earth, as well as the signpost to Santa’s War Room!

Deep inside its tension-filled gingerbread halls, surrounded by gum drop monitors and peanut brittle icicles, stands an enormous snow globe containing a model of the entire planet Earth floating inside, surrounded by a flurry of white flakes. A globe within a globe. At this moment, somewhere in North America, a light begins blinking, knocking an unsuspecting elf on monitor duty out of his sugar-plum Christmas Eve reverie.

“Guh!” the elf shouted, nearly falling out of his marshmallow chair in panic.

Another elf at a switchboard made of chocolate wafers and wooden pegs leaned back and shouted at the other elf, “Tinker! What’s the matter over there?”

With the type of drama befitting only someone who has been staring fruitlessly at a snow globe for untold years, Tinker thrust his finger at the blinking light inside the globe. “Someone’s set of Santa-Bot One!”

Soon a swarm of elves from the monitor room were scrambling and running around in a panic, holding their heads in their hands. “Oh no!” “Oh gosh!” “The decoy!” “Someone call the boss!” “Call the boss!”

Tinker ran over to a phone that sat, long forgotten, under a dusty glass bell jar. The phone’s two eyes stared out over his bulbous red nose and empty smile. The nose began to glow red when Tinker removed the jar and picked up the rounded red receiver. He quickly dialed the number two on the phone’s white rotary dial. He waited for the sound of a click, then shouted into the mouthpiece, “Boss! You’d better get in here quick!”

Scarcely a moment later, a nattily dressed figure burst into the room. He was clad head to foot in black: black three-piece suit, black shirt, black tie, well-shined black shoes, black briefcase, black Bluetooth earpiece in his ear. The only thing not black on his body was his tawny brown hair, combed back slickly between his curved goat horns.

“All right, soldiers!” barked the Krampus. “What’s the sit-rep in here?”

Tinker once again pointed to the blinking light within the globe, somewhat more abashedly this time in the presence of the corporation’s number two. “Er, the Santa-Bot One decoy has activated its self-destruct mechanism, Mr. Krampus, sir. We believe it met its target, sir.”

The Krampus stroked his hairy chin and the tip of his tongue flicked out of the edges of his mouth as he thought. “Well, well, Prince Vlad. We're soon to meet again.” The suit-clad beast strode confidently down a hallway before opening a door to a darkened inner chamber, lit by a roaring fire that cast its sole inhabitant into full silhouette. “Santa, we've found the vampire.”

The figure by the fire did not even turn around as he replied, “Very well, Krampus. Fetch my horse, if you will.” Meanwhile:

Back in the suburbs, an enormous scorch mark covered the cul-de-sac full of identically-shaped and aluminum-sided homes that were once blanketed in a soft layer of snow. Next to the house that was the clear epicenter of this massive event--itself blasted with scorch marks but otherwise unharmed--stood the sputtering, charred shell of the Santa-Bot. Next to him lay the body of Dracula, black and burnt, but somehow still undead.

With a not insignificant effort, Dracula propped himself up on a skeletal elbow and coughed out soot and ash. “Kaff! Hah!” he choked. “I kaff yet live!” Despite his obvious infirmity, he began to drag his crumbling body through the snow. “And now for those two little children…”

His journey was interrupted by yet another flash of light, though this one much smaller and at some short distance away. The loud FWAAAAAASSSSHHH sound it made as it flared up caught his attention, though he had to shield his eyes before the bright blue glow. When the light dimmed and disappeared, Dracula saw in front of him a pair of feet in polished black leather shoes and impeccably tailored black pants stood in front of his prostrate form. The lord of the vampires struggled to lift his head to see whose legs blocked his path.

“YOU?!” he spat in disgust.

“Yeah,” the owner of the legs said, deliver a swift kick to Dracula’s head with such strength that it flipped him over like a vastly overcooked egg. “Me.”

Now lying helplessly on his back, Dracula could not avoid seeing in full who stood before him. In the black suit stood the Krampus, who wiped the soot from Dracula’s burnt face off his shoe before crossing his arms across his chest. Next to him was a figure imposing enough to make the great horned beast of the woods seem slight. He was draped in heavy green robes fringed with an intricate Celtic knot design. At the top of these robes, a dark hood covered a hoary head from which a long, wiry white beard hung down in a tangle. If he turned his head just right, the light struck a small square of leather covering a hole where his right eye had once been. Stitched into this patch was the rune isaz, meaning ice. His one remaining eye pierced the darkness, the cold, pale blue of a winter morning sky. In his right hand he held a long staff of gnarled wood that curled into an uneven spiral at its top. Most terrible of all, this mighty wizard, the Santa, sat astride a fearsome gray stallion, nineteen hands high, with eight legs and snorting fire.

“Gruß vom Krampus und dem Weihnachtsmann,” sneered the Krampus through a cocky, tooth-filled grin.

The soot-covered count looked up at the sorceror upon his horse, coughing out a small cloud of ash with each breath. By now a small crowd of suburbanites unused to such riff-raff in their neighborhood had begun to gather in the cul-de-sac to see what was causing such disruption of their normally quiet subdivision. “So now what, Saint of God? Will you kill me now at last?”

The Santa turned his gaze away from the vampire. “No. Not in front of the children.” He raised his staff, from which an icy blue light like the one that marked his entrance began to issue. “But elsewhere. And very soon.”

As a now familiar FWAAAAAAASSSSH resounded throughout the cul-de-sac, the nondescript American suburb faded from sight, and in its place materialized a twisted cyclopean edifice that looked like an arthritic claw reaching toward heaven in an attempt to scratch out God’s eyes.

Dracula cackled, his legs finally having regenerated enough for him to stand up. “Hah! You bring me here, to Castle Dracula, my place of power?” Finding his second wind, he lunged at the Santa, who had just dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to the Krampus. Despite the element of surprise, the wizard managed to deftly dodge the vampire’s attack, partly because it was preceded by him yelling, “You arrogant fool!”

Now enraged, Dracula leapt again in attack at the Santa, this time from behind. Again, the mage simply stepped to the side and evaded the bat’s talons, though this time the vampire managed with his swipes to rip some snatches of fabric from the hems of Santa’s robes.

With Dracula now having rushed past him, the Santa blew a small breath of cold air across the open palm of his own hand, which then became an enormous wintry blast that knocked Dracula back into the wall, leaving him pinned to the castle wall by giant icicles through his sleeves and cape.

Dracula sneered. “So the saint decides to finally show his true power, eh?”

Santa walked patiently toward the captive beast. “There is more to see yet, prince.” He drove the point of his knotted wooden crozier hard into the mildewed stone floor of the castle. A bright flash of light sparked up from where the staff struck. The next moment, the entire top of Castle Dracula was blown off by an incalculably large explosion of light and sound.

The vampire prince was shocked to see his ancestral home destroyed. The entire roof and all the upper floors that had, a moment ago, been above him, were now simply gone. He struggled in his rage, but impotently so, as he was still powerfully affixed to the wall by the Santa’s eldritch icicles. “You—you fiend. You exploded my castle.”

The Santa turned his gaze away from Dracula. “Don't worry, prince. You won't miss it long.” He pointed to the horizon, where the first sliver of sun was beginning to peek out. “The sun is rising.”

“It is, isn't it?” Dracula began to cackle again, until he got caught in a coughing fit, hacking up ash and soot again. “AH AH AH AH AH! Even in my death, I've beaten you again! Just as in our last encounter, you've been so troubled with me, you haven't completed your annual duties! The children, saint! Won't you think of the children?”

Santa smiled grimly. “You think me such a fool that I wouldn't learn from our last encounter? Do you think the decoy you encountered was the only robot my elves built for me? You, prince, are the fool” Meanwhile, in Japan:

Santa Kurōsu happily eats Kentucky Fried Chicken with his wife over candlelight, a hogtied namahage lying next to his table, begging for a bite of chicken. Outside his rocket-powered bison sleigh idles.

Meanwhile, in France:

Père Noël unloads some escargot and baguettes from the wicker hampers on the back of his donkey, Gui, and places them in the shoes of a gently snoring family of mimes.

Meanwhile, in England:

Father Christmas descends from his home in the Northern Lights to enjoy a spot of tea with the guard outside of Buckingham Palace, who manage to drop their professional facade for just this one moment, because it’s Christmas.

Meanwhile, in Italy:

Babbo Natale and his braying donkey Dominick careen through the winding streets of Rome on a Vespa scooter, shouting expressions of love at a crowd of young women, themselves on scooters.

Meanwhile, in Finland:

Joulupukki welcomes a crowd of children to his reindeer farm, his long, goat-like beard hanging down from an irrepressible smile.

Meanwhile, in Catalonia:

The Tió de Nadal happily defecates nougat and Nintendo Switches into the welcoming hands of children whacking him with sticks.

Meanwhile, in Transylvania:

Santa stood next to the dying Dracula, who hung limply dying on the wall. In the distance, a carol rose up from the distance.

Hail the Heaven-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of Righteousness! Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings; Mild He lays His glory by Born that man no more may die Born to raise the sons of earth Born to give them second birth

“Listen to them, Vlad,” said the Santa as the sun began to rise fully over the snowy peaks of Transylvania. “Children of the light. What music they make.”

Dracula’s eyes went wide, as the source of centuries of fear, at last, knew fear himself. Silently, dispassionately, the Santa drove the sharpened tip of his crozier through Dracula’s heart. As Dracula turned to dust, he breathed his last breath: a green, bat-shaped cloud of vampire bacteria.

THE END

....OR IS IT????

*****

The child beamed, proud of her story.

The tutor was not impressed. “What.”

“What what?”

“What was that cloud of stuff flying out of Dracula's mouth at the end?”

The child explained, glad to finally be the one speaking down to a knowledgeless fool in need of instruction for a change, “It's the Dracula virus! See, to continue on with undeath even after death, the viral vampirism that caused Dracula in the first place--”

The tutor cut his student off mid-sentence. “VAMPIRISM ISN'T A VIRUS. That is stupid! It is enormously stupid!” He got to his feet, dumping a stack of math papers to the floor. “And Santa-Bots! Santa at the South Pole! The Krampus in a suit! Those moderately racist Santas at the end!” He grabbed at his hair as if it was the only way to anchor his sanity. “And don’t think making your story a pseudo-sequel to mine endears it in any way! This story is NON-CANONICAL.” He stormed out of the room, seemingly forgetting his grading duties or even what planet he was on. As he walked out the front door and toward his car, shouts of “NON-CANON” could be heard with each step, and, in fact, for the first several miles of his drive away.

Anyway, that’s how the child got to see the last half of the Shelfy Elf Christmas special. Mele Kalikimaka, everybody.

#christmas #halloween #santa #santa claus #dracula #santa vs dracula #krampus #my writing #not comics

21 notes · View notes

procyon-podcast-network · 7 years

Text

HOME STRETCH! Our Kickstarter still has a little over one day left to go. We’re funded, but we would love to reach our stretch goal so we can pay all the hardworking folks who volunteered to help us make it possible. People like our artist, (@theoutsidervevo) sound engineer (@shapechangersinwinter) and musician (@sounddesignerjeans).

During our campaign Andrea Klassen (our Certified Journalist on the team and co-writer/producer for Station to Station) did interviews with the creative teams of all our shows. In case folks on the tumble missed it, we’re also posting it here!

Below the cut: Station to Station writer’s room insider with Alex Yun and Andrea Klassen on inspiration, horror, and representation in genre fiction.

When Dr Miranda Quan embarks on an 10-week research cruise in the Pacific Ocean, she expects two months of no-nonsense experiments, bad Titanic jokes and marathoning Grey’s Anatomy. Instead, her lab partner has vanished, leaving nothing but a notebook full of illogical ramblings, a voice recorder, and a half-finished maths problem she has to solve. With a storm moving in and something sinister lurking below decks, Miranda must untangle the conspiracy surrounding her or be consumed.

AK: It's really satisfying to write women who get to be flawed heroes in all the ways male protagonists do too. With moments of bad judgement and moral conflict and selfishness and stubbornness. Also as a queer woman it's... just nice to get write characters whose stories aren't tied to homophobia — where someone can have a crush on another woman, but that's not the source of conflict the way horrifying science conspiracies are.

AY: Exactly. And the reason that we do this — the point of PPN — is to create narrative space for ourselves in genre fiction, be it horror or sci-fi or fantasy, where we are allowed to take up that space and drive that narrative. We deserve to be front and centre, to have our stories not end in tragedy, to have stories that doesn't just mimic the current way the media treats marginalised identities. It is not niche to put non-white, non-straight bodies into narratives that have been historically excluding of them.

The idea that diverse stories are less appealing is based on constructed ideas of what "the norm" looks like - it's tied to the experience of what it means to be the "default" and what it means to be the Other.

The rest is below the cut!

Andrea Klassen (co-writer, Station to Station): In an effort to hold onto the old Q&A format for one question — where did the idea come from for Station to Station?

Alex Yun (creator, Station to Station): I have scientist friend who goes on these types of research cruises once a year and has for the two-three years I've known her. She talked about it last time she went (or was about to leave, back in October/November), I thought 'this reminds me a bit of Wolf 359' which lead to 'this would make a good podcast' and that's how the original idea was formed.

AK: I remember when you first talked about it, there was something so appealing about that setup. Even before we'd really delved into what was going to happen in season one, there's that combination of forced isolation and forced camaraderie. No one's alone on a research vessel, but you're very much stuck with what you've got, for better or worse... and in this case, maybe a little more of the worse.

AY: Right, and that's how it turned from 'slice-of-life dramedy with slightly creepy science' to full-blown sci-fi conspiracy horror. The restrictions of being stuck in confined space, of being unable to escape because you're literally hundreds of kilometres out at sea — that all feeds into the paranoia, the unease, and the claustrophobia of horror.

AK: Yeah, and I think all those same things are reasons this is a story that's so interesting to tell in podcast form. My favourite horror has never been the stuff that's about slicing up people — it's withheld information, the stuff just outside your peripheral vision, that sense there's something going on you don't understand. A medium that's entirely what you can hear is so ripe for that.

AY: I think a big component to horror is helplessness. When you look at these classic horror movies, so many of them are about being stuck in a building, in a room, in a house — and then adding in the growing fear and sense of wrongness that comes from the unknown and truly unnatural. The best horror is psychological. I'm not really interested in gore as a trope. There are a lot of other fears you can delve into that's simply more...interesting and rewarding as a setup. Especially when you tap into the natural-reaction gut-instinct kind of scary.

The best thing with audio is that you get unlimited ways to play with perception. 'Nothing is scarier' is a favourite trope of mine and audio is perfect for that precisely because it's non-visual. It leaves a lot of room for imagination and painting the medium.

I'm honestly not a big fan of horror films precisely because of how many rely on cheap tropes like body horror, jump scares and gore, but I have loved conspiracy thrillers because they deliver the same punch of fighting against something bigger and unknown — so I suppose I wanted to create something that used similar tropes, but that I would be able to listen to and not bug out in the middle.

AK: I love ‘nothing is scarier’ too, and if you think about it, we've got a very literal use of it here — no spoilers, but nothing really is the scariest thing going on in this show in a lot of ways.

AY: Right, the vast empty abyss of the void beyond when you're in the middle of nowhere. Which is always fun to joke about, until you start exploring what it means, and how to make use of the.... let's call it the instinctual human unease towards the unknown.

AK: One of the things that's been a lot of fun there is that at the centre of this story we have this trio of very different, complex women who do paranoia and unease in such completely different ways. (I wanna gush about our characters, Alex. I wanna gush.)

AY: That was something interesting to explore — coming up with different perspectives, different voices, different character motivations was definitely a learning experience for me as a writer as well. We have three extremely competent women of colour at the centre of things trying to solve this eldritch, unexplainable, larger-than-yourself mystery and it is very gratifying.

AK: I think it's also deeply informed the kind of story we're writing. Horror can be pretty individualistic — final girls, a single protagonist getting to the bottom of everything — but when you're telling stories about people for whom finding safe community is an essential part of survival in everyday real life, it changes the narrative.

Questions of trust are so central to this story — both who you can trust when things go wrong, and how that trust or lack of it plays out. While in this case there's a conspiracy motivating our characters, these are questions that I think resonate on a pretty personal level if you're a person with any kind of marginalised identity.

AY: Right, and being aware of the real-life subtext is vital if we want to create something unique. Every piece of fiction has multiple layers to it, and every piece of fiction is measured against the meta-narrative it exists in. We're doing a horror-sci-fi in a medium that's abundant with horror-scifi — so it's obviously important to be aware of how we build it. It's been a challenge balancing character moments and not overcomplicating plot, but that's why themes of found families and solidarity and momentary allies an integral structure of the story.

But when all is said, I'm fairly satisfied with what we've got so far — I've enjoyed working with you, I love our cast, and I'm looking forward to bringing this thing to life.

Station to Station launches this summer. For updates, check us out at s2s-podcast.tumblr.com or follow us on Twitter @S2SPodcast.

#station to station #procyon podcast network #s2s podcast #representation matters #diversity in sff #supportpocpods #p: station to station

94 notes · View notes