#cosmic horror and body horror mixed together

[zoeloveconvers99]

idk what i created but i thought it would be cool,reimagining Eddie in the current comic run

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i have never felt this uniquely insane about a character <3 i cant get a read on him

[moorishflower]

10 Sandman Fic Recs!

I was struck by the absolutely heady and incredible thought that I have reached a. 800+ followers, and b. can place upon your dashboards the fics of friends and also people with whom I would enjoy being friends, and who I think should get more attention. There's going to mostly be Not the Big Fics in this particular list (I will rec all the big ones I'm readin later!)

Therefore, in no particular order, and containing everything from gen, to Dreamling, to Hobrintheus (or w/e the name for it is lol), ~fic recs~

I'm so sorry that you have to have a body by Taxonamie (AO3, Gen, Teen & Up)

A different take on Dream's capture; Dream's POV.

I DO love some good old body horror, and this fic does SUCH a good good job of really exploring what it'd be like for something that's supposed to be Endless to suddenly be trapped in a continuously dying and rebirthing flesh suit. EXTREME Lady Amalthea vibes. Immaculate.

2. Holy Palmer's Kiss by quentintoo (AO3, Dreamling, General Audiences)

Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

I'm pretty sure this was the fic that sparked my intense obsession with longing and like, hand-touching and hand-kissing. Scintillating and sweet.

3. to sleep—perchance to dream by fishydwarrows (AO3, Dreamling, Explicit)

Hob Gadling remembers the night of 1889 well. He dreams and dreams of ways it could've been different, but dreams are often a way of escaping a more terrible reality.

For me THEE Hob whump fic, because if you're going to have an immortal why not make him miserable for a time? Mind the tags, but the payoff is SO, so good. I've read this, I think, at least a half-dozen times.

4. Heat Wave by spqr (AO3, Dreamling, Explicit)

“Sounds like you’re horny to me,” says Matthew.

Somewhat similarly, this for me is THE "Hob Gadling fucks and fucks severely" fic. Everything spqr writes is solid gold, but Dream being Endlessly Horny for his good old friend is both amusing and SCREAMINGLY hot.

5. Eros in Pragma by Delta_Pavonis (AO3, Dreamling, Explicit)

In all his long centuries never had he really done something like this. It was exciting and terrifying and exhilarating and too many emotions all mashed together. He felt like his skin was vibrating. Deep breath in. He could do this. He wanted to do this, desperately wanted to, a desire from deep in his bones. And yet… long breath out. Hob walked over to one of his bedside tables and opened the drawer. There was only one item contained therein and he removed it with shaking hands. The silver buckle jingled softly.

Here's a fun fact! I neither read nor wrote a lot of D/S before I got into Sandman, and now I do, and it's almost entirely because of this fic!

6. I have lately learned the difference by Chthonion (AO3, Dreamling, Mature)

While Dream is imprisoned, Hob dreams of prisons, until, one by one, all of them take the same shape: a glass cage. Hob doesn't realize why until he meets Dream again, and the dreams don’t stop afterward. Trauma, connection, and adventures in accidentally mixing two people’s subconscious demons together in the dreamscape.

This is just. SO good. I love anything that explores Dream's trauma wrt his imprisonment but chooses to do so through Dream's mindscape, and this delivers in spades. Let Hob Gadling smash more snowglobes 2k22.

7. point-set triangulation by therm0dynamics (AO3, Hob/Corinthian, Teen & Up)

Hob knows he is dreaming. He also knows he’s being hunted.

The dynamic between Hob and the Corinthian is FASCINATING -- they're truly mirrors of each other, both hungry for humanity, both wanting, both bound up in cosmic Endless bullshit. This is fairly tame, for the Corinthian, so if you're squeamish I can assure you that this is more psychological than visceral. There's an absolutely smoking hot sequel, though.

8. the pleasant punishment by romanticallyinept (AO3, Hob/Dream/Corinthian, Explicit)

“All right,” Hob says, fairly evenly, he thinks, for what he’s been presented with. “Would someone like to explain what’s going on?” Dream has the decency to look slightly abashed, as if he only just realized that he showed up, unannounced, in his friend’s flat, with a nightmare in tow. But it’s only slightly, because he’s still Dream. “I would not ordinarily involve a human in the discipline of one of my creations,” he says, inclining his head slightly, “but you are no ordinary human, Hob Gadling.” One day, one day, Hob will learn to keep his fool mouth shut.

Hey you know how I said I didn't used to be into D/S dynamics

Well if you weren't either, give this one a try. Gentle dom!Hob punishes a recalcitrant Corinthian while Dream watches. Surprisingly tender, incredibly sexy, lots of feel good subdrop soothing afterwards.

9. A Dream of Stars by jehannaford (AO3, Gen, General Audiences)

After the events of Watership Down, Fiver has a dream and is offered a choice. A very short story.

This is super short, super sweet, and super poignant. It's like 200 words, and it's worth every second of your time.

10. as long as this body shall endure by andunetir (AO3, Dreamling, Explicit)

Hob loves eating pussy. (He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about this at school, but it’s free period and the Year Elevens are more than capable of supervising themselves, so sue him, he’s bored.)

There's not a ton of fic that explores gender through Hob's point of view, but this is one I keep coming back to again and again. Trans!Hob gives me ALL kinds of life, and this is a fascinating exploration of immortality and transness. Also, again, it's super hot.

[jacksgreysays]

"like normal people do" - Sai/Shikako, cosmic horror under the guise of romance

Anonymous asked: "Memento Mori," Master of Death!Harry Potter/Shikabane-hime!Shikako, vows under the auspices (only shooting stars)-verse, because I really just want to see these two reluctant gods of death being sweet and earnest and soft with each other as the rest of the world watches in bemusement and/or wariness Anonymous asked: Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus (inciderit), Shikabane-Hime 🌌🌟🦌🖤🌠 damnsmartblueboxes asked: jic tumblr ate my counting corvids fake title asks: Would you ever write an Original? Fiction about accidental body cohabitation & platonic devotion? Like cyborg & ai, Venom-style, transmigration, however the temple that is a body is devoted to two gods :p

Because there are SO MANY prompts left in my inbox and I am RUNNING OUT OF DAYS and, also, these four resonated when I went through my inbox, I will be answering these prompts together, I hope you don’t mind anon(s) and @damnsmartblueboxes!

Let me start by saying: while I do look fondly on my fic vows under the auspices (only shooting stars) and consider it some of my best work as well as love how it endeared people to my genin OCs for jounin sensei!Shikako, I’d rather not further engage in the Harry Potter franchise for obvious reasons.

However, the concept of reluctant god of death still applies to Shikabane-hime!Shikako even without an equally reluctant god of death counterpart, and the premise of your prompt still applies, for the most part, especially in combination with the other anon prompt of cosmic horror under the guise of romance. The dynamic of affection from an eldritch being, whether romantic or, as in damnsmartblueboxes’ prompt, platonic.

And what turns these prompts from my darling, dearest ambiguous vibes of god nonsense into an actually plot is the latin phrase prompt: Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus (inciderit) which translates to “That a god not intervene, unless a knot show up that be worthy of such an untangler” or less literally “When the miraculous power of God is necessary, let it be resorted to: when it is not necessary, let the ordinary means be used.”

All of this mixes into the following:

Shikako’s post-Jashin coma is not JUST mental/spiritual backlash of surviving a hostile outer god’s attack. It is, in fact, a chrysalis for mortal!Shikako to turn into burgeoning eldritch god!Shikabane-hime.

UNFORTUNATELY, it gets interrupted by the entirely well-meaning, and necessarily intervention of Sai—who, even so early on, is so ready to defy Danzo on Shikako’s behalf that it’s not even funny.

The thing is—at least with butterflies—you can’t really stop the metamorphosis without, you know, killing the pupa, and if you, for example, poke a hole in the cocoon, the liquified goop that is on its way into becoming a butterfly just… spills out and dies. Uhoh

Thankfully, our girl is NOT a literal pupa. But her metamorphosis has been interrupted. What’s a devoted disciple of a burgeoning eldritch god to do?

Basically, Sai is the mortal/physical touchstone for evolving deity Shikabane-hime. I do also like playing with the idea that worship can look like dating from an outside POV—after all, whether to a partner or a god, devotion is devotion even if differently flavored.

In the damnsmartblueboxes’ vein of Original Fiction, I once wrote a script playing with the idea that the grieving process can look like a messy break up—it involved a ghost, also—so the above concept is the arguably more lighthearted version of that. I mean, it’s not entirely lighthearted, what with the eldritch god and the cosmic horror but, you know. It’s not sad, per se.

I also, keeping in line with damnsmartblueboxes’ prompt and also my own leanings in regard to canon!DoS Shikako and Sai’s relationship, would make this a platonic fic. Mostly because I think canon!DoS has SO MUCH power over Sai. Like. Again, that devotion. I didn’t make it up. That’s in there. Sai is so ready to defy Danzo’s orders to protect Shikako. The power imbalance is just too much.

I am a multishipper, so I do think there is a version of Sai and Shikako that COULD work romantically. There’s even a version of Sai and eldritch god!Shikako that could work romantically in an AU. But since the brainstorm we’re currently running along is more canon divergence than AU, I think this would work BEST as platonic. Especially to further contrast the cosmic horror under the guise of romance. Like, if it isn’t even at all romantic, just cosmic horror and platonic devotion, that makes the juxtaposition all the greater.

Anyway, as I was saying, the plot part of this is: mortal touchstone/devoted disciple!Sai is a very competent shinobi on his own, but even he can’t deal with [[insert divine level threat here]]. Everyone knows that Shikako has been teaching him fuinjutsu—that they have been getting closer/getting along more so than before—but everyone is surprised when he breaks out what looks to be the Shiki Fujin but instead of summoning the Shinigami it is instead the debut of the Shikabane-hime in full force.

What is the divine level threat? Maybe it’s Jashin again and this time, Shikabane-hime gets to go toe to toe with him rather than just slamming the door in his face. Or maybe it’s moon aliens O_O

[eirenare]

My Elden Ring... bingo? Bulletpoint wishlist? Wild theorizing?

Okay so here's my very improvised Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree... bingo? That is also a bulletpoint wishlist? Along with some very, VERY abridged mix-up of some of my theories? I did this in a rush because I wasn't expecting the expansion trailer to drop out of the blue like this haha.

Anyways, here's my "bingo":

The world of Elden Ring is in an eternal succession of cycles like Big Bangs and Big Crunches (I think it was called like that?) where the Great One gets divided into all that exists and then merged again like it would happen with the Frenzied Flame

In SOTE you’re in the future but at a point where everything is merging together again like in a previous cycle so you’re also technically in/seeing the past

Since everything is blending back together in SOTE and therefore returning to its former states until going back to the origin, you might be able to meet characters how they were in the past even as you are in the future

Kalé’s quest restored

New area the size of Liurnia, with some of it being in the middle of the map where the giant cloud is, some of it underground, and some of it far away

The SOTE map has the center of the map having lost most of its waters due to a meteoric impact

The map of the Lands Between changes in appearance if you’re in the world of dreams which is implemented retroactively unlike SOTE itself

Customization for Torrent

In SOTE, Torrent’s horns have grown

Miquella is neither a pure nor evil character but rather a gray one able to go to extremes for his loved ones or for loyal causes

Miquella has been planting lilies all through the Lands Between with the goal of making the most inhabitants fall asleep as both a substitute for death and so that their souls will be at peace for as long as needed

You meet both Miquella and St. Trina, Miquella is asleep and his soul is St. Trina in dreams while his body mutates and grows inside the cocoon

Mohg was charmed by Miquella

Might was charmed by Miquella on purpose as per Miquella’s will

Mohg and Miquella were allies and had conjoined plans

Miquella wanted to restore Godwyn’s soul back along with these of the Ones Who Live in Death so that he may give them eternal rest

St. Trina made Godwyn fall asleep and facilitated Fortissax’s entry into the prince’s Deathbed Dream

The Formless Mother aka the Mother of Truth is the “pale star” of the banner of Castle Sol, turned into the Blood Star of that banned by means of the eclipse ritual, and Miquella needed that ritual to happen to both give rest to Godwyn and to become the new vessel of the Blood Star to help, protect and give further power to those deemed accursed just like him (Malenia, Mohg and Morgott and all the other Omen, Godwyn perhaps, the Misbegotten…)

Ascended Miquella fight

Ascended Malenia fight

At least a new rune, obtainable from Miquella

Two new endings

New dragon fights

New cosmic horror fights

At least one gimmicky fight

Covenants

Silver Tear Asimi’s quest restored

More Marika and Radagon lore

More Melina Lore

Marika was the Gloam-Eyed Queen

The process by which Marika gave birth to Miquella, Malenia and Melina, was a literal “shattering” of her soul and aspects of herself, hence the overlap of death themes in all of them (Miquella and St. Trina related to sleep while sleep is related to death, Marika herself fitting in the role in too many ways, Melina showing in such an appearance in that cutscene variant of the Frenzied Flame ending)

Malenia gave birth to Millicent and the other Four Sisters in that same way by “shattering” her soul and the aspects of herself

Miquella’s alter ego, St. Trina, since she’s aiming to make sleep into the new form of death, becomes a deity of death of sorts

Radagon was created by accident by Marika by being the first time her soul “shattered” while during the last battle against the giants

What Radagon felt when he wasn’t fused with Marika, she felt it to a degree too

The concept of divisions (the Great One, Marika, for example) implied to be inspired by cellular division but also on the philosophical concepts of Monad, Dyad, Triad…

The Numen were the ginormous giants who first brought the forging to the Lands Between and Marika is of Numen descent mixed with astrologer descendance and so are the Nox

The first Silver Tears were created by the Numen

The Alabaster Lords and the Onyx Lords were the ones who built that ancient, unnamed civilization that predates Stormveil Castle and who built the Divine Towers and the “furnace giants”, and they worshiped meteors because they were what gave them life

The Elden Beast looks the way it looks because it fell into the waters of the crucible of life, aka the “primordial soup”, and literally, pun not intended, the crucible mutated it into looking like many things blender together because of the “genetic pool” of the crucible’s waters

Godwyn and Fortissax as a canon romance

Lore of the Shadows of all the Empyreans

Rykard’s serpent deity returns

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

Posting the Together Forever AU writing before bed.

TW: Literal possession, possessive behaviour, obsession, gaslighting, manipulation, abuse, murder, death of children, religious themes, bigotry towards witches, victim blaming, self hate, disassociation, chronic pain, body horror

The sky is alight in the Demon Realm.

That’s the first thing Hunter notices, trying desperately to avoid the reality of blood and bone and screaming and pain. The sky is a kaleidoscope, a stunning display of pinks and reds and oranges and purples. A galaxy of constellations, like the ones he read about in Cosmic Frontier, dot the skies. It’s strange and stunning enough he can almost lose himself in it.

“Disgusting, isn’t it, Caleb?” Belos sneers, and forcibly, Hunter is forced back into terrible reality.

It hits all at once, the events of the past few hours. Voices and images in his head, a phantom scratching like ants under his skin he tried to ignore. Spiralling thoughts. An anger, a possessiveness he didn’t recognise bubbling in him, like he wasn’t in control of himself. The agony of being a puppet on a string, a marionette, his bones turning in ways they shouldn’t and the touch of rot and goop like burning.

The broken bodies of his friends. His family. Still breathing, but barely, and Titan, could humans survive those injuries? They didn’t have healing magic, so how would they be able to? The metallic smell of blood. The sheer exhaustion, being unable to fight back against his body being under another’s control. Dizzying vertigo and swirling colours.

If he was able to, Hunter would be sick.

“Caleb!” Hunter automatically jumps to attention at the sharp sound of his uncles voice, not sure if it’s coming from him or inside his head.

“My name is Hunter, uncle,” he half-thinks, half-says, his voice quiet and soft. “I'm not- I'm not-“

Belos drives the sharp edge of his nails into his-their body, and Hunter can’t flinch from the pain, take a deep breath, only feel the stabbing and the green burning sludge spreading into more of his flesh. “Caleb, do you really think you can play the fool with me? I have known you since the day I was born; I can recognise you from any of those pale imitations. Seeing through your eyes, hearing your every thought… you couldn’t have fooled me if you tried, brother.”

There was a pause, and the stabbing pain subsided, Hunter barely recognising his own arm was moving. “Unless, you have truly forgotten?” His voice was soft like the fabric in the Human Realm, a warmth that made Hunter unwillingly feel proud, satisfied. “Do you remember how you protected me, all those years ago? Do you remember the games we'd play in the woods?”

If there was one thing Hunter knew by heart, it was this- if you wanted to avoid getting hurt, always do exactly what Belos wanted. If you didn’t know, predict it. Always stay one step ahead of any potential wrath. And… he’d lost everything anyways. All he had left was himself, and even if he deserved all the pain in the world, some selfish part of him tried to avoid that still.

“I'm sorry, I really don’t remember. I'm trying to, but I can’t.” His voice breaks, and for some reason a small part of him thinks it’s guilt over being a bad brother, even though that makes no sense. “Emperor Belos, I-“

“Philip.” There’s an annoyed tone, and it makes Hunter expect… something, even though he doesn’t know what. “Please, use my real name.”

“… Yes, Philip. My… my brother.”

“See, look, you’re remembering already!” The horrible bolt of pride hits Hunters stomach again, along with something he can’t quite name mixed in, and he hates it. He hates it he hates it he hates it so much he wants to pull at his hair and scratch at his skin but he can’t move a muscle, even as his skin crawls like a million tiny bugs are underneath it.

He's frozen, as Bel- as Philip effortlessly, smoothly walks them along to do Titans knows what, and the fear of anticipation makes him feel sicker than ever.

——

Over the next few months, Hunter grows numb to the taste of Palismen.

Their form still withers without it, and there’s nothing left of Hunter's old body anymore, everything being held together solely by the slick oily goop of Philip's monstrous form. He looks much the same as he always did, but on touch things sink into his skin, and his whole body is enveloped in a permanent burning pain that makes thinking hard, and listening to Philip seem so easy.

As it turns out, there’s a lot of witchless Palismen in this horrific, warped version of the Demon Realm. Catching them was easy when he didn’t hold the reins of their shared body, but he could still feel them trembling in fear under his grasp, the desperation in their eyes. It felt like murder, every time.

Palisman souls, he finds, taste like screaming.

——

“Can you remember what happened on the day you carved my mask?”

No would be the correct answer, but more important than answering correctly is answering in a way that pleases Philip, Hunter has learned.

“A little,” he lies, desperately recalling the mess of information about the man he was meant to be he'd learnt. “I- it was your birthday, right? Your… eighth?”

“Ninth.” Philip doesn’t sound too angry at that, but Hunter still flinches in anticipation. He’s regained a little control over his own body, he’s found, but only in situations like this, where he can’t even really do anything with it.

The two of them were taking shelter from the boiling rain, which tended to progress to a boiling flood whenever it was the least convenient. Thankfully, the goop that made up their body didn’t burn much under it, but it lost its cohesion painfully, and if it got damaged too much it'd reveal their galderstone heart, the one part of Hunter that remained, and that didn’t handle the rains as well.

Every single scratch to it made Hunter's head feel more and more fuzzy, made his real memories more and more like static. He hates how it makes things easier like that.

“Of course, your ninth birthday. You were crying because you thought you were a sinner, but when I gave you that gift, you'd grinned ear to ear.”

“Very good. I'm so proud of your progress, Caleb.” The relief in Philip’s voice was palpable, and it felt foreign, that vulnerability. It was a side of himself that Hunter had once thought he'd shown him, with his transformations and his anger, but being “Caleb” felt like seeing a whole new side of his “brother”, and it felt like some weird fever dream. “Do you remember what you promised me, on that day?”

Hunter lowers his head. “I can’t recall. I'm sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise for something that isn’t your fault,” Philip says, and Hunter knows it’s a lie, but it’s a comforting one. He pretends to ignore the amused tone to it. “You put a hand on my shoulder and smiled, and said no matter what, we'd be together forever.”

“I guess I wasn’t wrong there.” It comes out bitter, even though Hunter doesn’t mean it to.

“Don't use that tone.” It’s lighter than Hunter ever remembers Philip reprimanding him before all this, but it still invokes the same feeling of dread. “You were right there, though, yes. You always were too clever for your own good, without anyone to rein you in like you did me. It’s only fair to do the same in return, don’t you agree?”

Hunter doesn’t, of course, but he knows the answer Philip wants. “Of course, brother.”

He feels himself smile. “I always knew this would work, Caleb. I knew God would return you to me, one way or another. I should have recognised the gift I had been given earlier, but perhaps that was God's plan too. After all, we really are together forever, like you promised.”

Hunter pauses at that. If… if Caleb had said that, if he'd said that, wouldn’t it make sense for him to have come back like this? It’s not like he'd be able to know, but Philip would. Maybe he was just in denial. After all, Philip always had something to say, always had something that was proof, and it had to mean something, right? It had to. He was just being stupid and selfless for pretending he was anything but a vessel fulfilling his purpose.

“I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way,” Caleb says, and he’s not sure himself about whether it’s a truth or a lie. Maybe it’s both.

——

The first time they meet another witch, they are younger than Caleb's new body.

He is sick after they are disposed of. Of course, he knows witches are evil, he remembers now. Philip had helped him, reminded him of their demonic ways. But he's still weak. Stupid. Has the same tendencies that drove him to sin and abandon his little brother.

Philip hugs him tight with their arms and tells him that he shouldn’t feel guilty, he did the right thing, the Godly one. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

He isn’t sick the next witch he hunts.

——

His hair grows out quickly, but he doesn’t age. The patterns of rot on him seem to be different every time he looks, ever so slightly. His clothes are a part of him, and if he focuses very hard, he can change them too. He dresses like he used to, at Philips insistence.

Philip keeps note of those things in a journal, trying to figure out their limits. Caleb can’t say he understands his enthusiasm. He remembers his brothers curiosity, at least he thinks he does, but he's not sure how they’re any different to the monsters they hunt. Maybe it takes one to kill one.

Caleb used to be curious once, he thinks. He’s grown out of it now, that childish fantasy he allowed himself to experience pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Now, he just feels numb.

Not entirely of course. There are three things he feels. First, and most importantly, is love for his little brother. It still felt strange to imagine Philip as that, and he supposed it technically wasn’t true anymore, since Philip had been alive for many more years than he had, but it was his duty. His responsibility.

He takes like it to a duck to water, as a shoulder to cry on, a rock, a source of advice. He always knows what to say to make his brother smile, and it fills him with pride whenever he feels his body do it involuntarily. On the rare occasions he messes up, the stupid remains of an idiot child still inside him, he more than welcomes the punishment. He knows he deserves it.

Second is a hatred of witches. He’s not sure if it classifies as hatred exactly, to be honest, though. He pities them more than anything- those with the misfortune to be born demons, be born sinful tempters without a choice in the matter. He tells himself it is a kindness to free their souls from that fate, allow them to be reborn as something better. Like he himself was.

Finally, least of all, was this odd sense of homesickness. He didn’t know where to, exactly. He remembered scattered faces, but everything else was a blur. He'd been stuck in this hell for so long he saw them with pointed ears, weaving demonic magic with their hands, which couldn’t be the case. He must be remembering home, back when he was with Philip. He could recall the dry facts as easily as breathing, of course, but the feeling of rain on his skin, of holding baby Philip in his arms, the face of those he'd loved, those were beyond his grasp.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here. Long enough to notice he's stopped growing, but whether that’s months or years or eons upon eons is something he can’t answer. He spends much of his time in a state in between existence, dimly aware of what’s happening but not feeling it. The worsening pain made that all the more tempting. Even detached from everything, it still threatened to overload him at any moment.

Philip praises him for being so obedient, so it must be fine.

Caleb lives his life as scattered scenes now, like a dream he can’t wake up from. But it’s a good dream, so he doesn’t mind. Most of the time, he is talking with Philip. Some of the time, he is under the water and holding his heart in his hands and on the verge of breaking it. He doesn’t know why. Somehow, it feels tempting.

But, no. He has a purpose he was built for, and he'll do it. A good big brother never does anything to upset their little brother. Never leaves them. Never hurts them. Caleb is a good brother, and that makes it worthwhile.

——

When he sees another human for the first time in who knows how long, she is vaguely familiar.

It’s something about the shape of her nose, the roundness of her cheeks. Maybe her lips, or the warm brown of her skin. Caleb cannot name it.

Her hair is long and curly, one of her eyes is bandaged. Several of her limbs appear to be clunky metal. There is a dullness to her brown eyes that Caleb recognises from himself. Still, for some reason, she smiles at him.

“Hunter?” Her voice is frustratingly familiar too.

He shakes his head. “I'm sorry. My name is Caleb.”

[ryuzakemo128]

Four Horsemen

Chapter Five: Don't Tell Me The Odds

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Red [Female Reader]

Genre: Modern, sci-fi, fantasy, fluff, mystery

Masterlist: Link

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Trigger Warnings:

Mention of possible mental illness and nightmares

Authors Note: Longer chapter this time around. Sorry for the wait, I hope you like this one. The next one might come out the same day, but that all depends on what happens after doing stuff outside of the house.

[Red's Point of View]

Nightmares of the past and the things I have done in the past, the insomnia crawling over like a cosmic horror threatening to devour what little sanity I had left. Memories of bloodshed and other horrifying things I done, staying up late into the night. Distracting myself with the designs I wanted to in place my house I was building, sleep sung like a siren's call both tempting and alluring. Plans to look over, to distract from the lull of a sleep where night terrors waited for me like a predator lurking in the darkness.

After staring at the plans for the past three and a half hours, she got up and started to get ready for her morning bath, lighting candles smelling of lavender and jasmine, hoping to create a soothing yet calming ambiance to settle back into a lulled sleep. Putting Epsom salts into the hot water to ease my tired muscles, as the bathtub fills up with hot water.

I turned calming sounds of the ocean rushing on the sandy beach and rushing back, and I started to undress, shedding the weight of yesterday. Along with my clothes I was sleeping in from the day before. Tension started to dissipate as I stepped into the bath, the sweet smelling candles and the sounds of the ocean calmed my mind. As if it scared off the horrors of my nightmares and thoughts of yesterday drifted away, like a boat in the ocean.

Warm water embraced my body like a warm hug, soothing my bones and muscled. The bathroom was dimly lit as I haven't replaced the blown out bulb just yet, the flickering flame making shifting shadows against the walls of the bathroom. Almost like they were dancing.

The nightmares were all the same, only the people inside of them change with each one.

"I'm so tired of these nightmares," I said to myself as I sank further into the salty hot water. "I just want to sleep soundly for one night."

I looked over at the clock again, it was already 4:45am, dawn will come in the next five minutes and the day will finally start. After having a bath, I felt warm and relaxed, ready to get back to working on my house. The cellars were in place and the base foundation was complete.

After the walls were put into place, the cottage started to take shape and my vision is coming into reality the more work is done into it. The more work I put into my home the more of my dream home came to life. I wanted to make it perfect, I wanted to make sure it had everything I needed and more. After the structure continue to come together, the more time I spent living in my friend's home and I felt bad about it, despite them being fine with it.

As the details were added, one by one, the crimson red roof tiling, the wooden carvings on the front porch with the rocking chair on the front porch covered by a thick knitted blanket in time for winter's cold breath. The front door had stained glass in the middle of the door, depicting a red rose in the middle.

The windows of the house were done to able to look outside and to make sure no one could look inside, providing both privacy and a view. Interior design a blend of industrial and gothic styles, the exposed brick walls, ornate chandeliers hanging from high ceilings. Furniture mix of both antique and modern pieces.

The polished black wooden flooring throughout the entire cottage, sleek and sophisticated looks. The two skull planters outside the front door with black Baccara Roses inside the two of them. I could finally move into my home as the main parts came together after five months.

[tryingtimi]

13 & 29!

His Little Brother

Thank you so much for the numbers! 💙 Well, it was a lovely combination of two IQRUS song, Goodbye by Ramyes (from Arcane) and Doom by Imagine Music. So, since I already planned to write this scene in the near future, I've lived with the opportunity now. Context: The cult experimented on making a specimen of the mix of a human and a zaphrin (angel/lesser god-like creatures) that can erase other zaphrins. Adran happened to be the best candidate to this role, so they made him insane and turned him into an eldritch monster, then went to the Everocean to destroy Auva and kill Dane. It's almost the end of the book.

ADRAN COHREN | BODY, ELDRITCH HORROR | GORE | BLOOD | WC: 819

Adran’s jaw – that nauseating, deformed piece of his face where his sharp, shark-like teeth slumbered – clenched together with an ear-shattering crunch. His Evolved hand closed over Dane’s neck with ease. It seemed so tiny compared to his clawed arms that Dane tried to draw blood from with his weak fingers. To no avail, however. The scales that grew over Adran’s translucent, slithery skin could stop lasers from slicing them through. A mere scratch of a human being was not near to harming him.

Adran’s neck twitched as he saw his brother’s tears escaping from the side of his face.

“Ad…ran…” he forced out the letters with the air that rushed out from his lungs but couldn’t get back anymore. His face slowly turned into the purple of the sunset behind him. “Fight… it…”

ɪᴛ ɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ɪɴsᴇᴄᴛ.

He watched Dane struggle, desperation and terror pooling into his ocean-blue eyes. No. ʏᴇs. His brother let out a gutwrenching cry as Adran’s claws tightened, his neck bruising visibly. No! NO!

ʏᴇs, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ. ɪᴛ ɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

Electric shockwaves ran down across his skin, right into his bones, the little sparkles popping up here and there in the ooze that dripped from his whole body. His mind had been out of his reach, thick fog and froth washing Adran farther away from himself. Numbness sunken him deeper and deeper locking him into a dark corner of his existence. He’d seen his grotesque, eight feet tall self lifting Dane higher through an old screen, not his eyes. He was lost. He was doing what was best.

It was the best for Her. And so it could be the best for the world as well.

Adran saw what he was doing. Through a screen. Through… he saw his arms and a scar on the sensitive skin between two lines of scales.

A scar.

ɴᴏɴsᴇɴsɪᴄᴀʟ.

His scar.

ᴀsɪɴɪɴᴇ.

The scar he got when he saved Dane. From falling. From dying. He stirred in his numbness. Adran looked down at Dane’s remnant of his mechanic leg. He ripped it out of their fitting. He trashed in the shadows of his mind, trashed for air and freedom.

He was choking Dane. The one he saved and has scarred himself for. Dane lost his leg that day, the day he got his scar. When they were kids. He saved him. From falling. From dying. His Dane.

Adran looked at his gagging, deepening red face.

At his little brother.

NO!

Adran’s mind buzzed and whirled, it melted and bled as he screamed his throat raw when he finally forcefully took the control back over his body. He immediately let Dane go, then with his eyes jumping everywhere at an insane speed, he turned around to look at the source of this bone-crushing unease, this madness.

At Icharo Astin, The Golden Prophet.

He couldn’t describe the guttural loathing that his form presented under the golden robe, and he didn’t try to. With the thin thread he could grab of his sanity, Adran charged towards The Golden. The vessel’s floor thumped under his large, oily feet, the air around him resonating and tearing apart. The Golden did not move as if he was sculpted from stone-cold confidence. He stood there as the grand statue of lunatics. He was indestructible. Death couldn’t lay a hand on him.

Adran, however, was worse than death.

And so he broke through the invisible, yet crushing resistance that this man’s, this monster’s cosmic protection had lifted before him. There was a slight hint of surprise in The Golden’s unreadable, faceless expression when Adran soundlessly roared at him and began to rip him out of existence. He surprised a God, after all. ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴏʏ. ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟꜰ. Adran felt an endless shock of pain in his core, in his bones, in his mind. He started bleeding from everywhere as he sucked the skin, the bone, the life out of The Golden before him.

What he was consuming, was a part of him already. And he couldn’t bear it. It was too much for his body.

Jarring gurgling exploded from The Golden’s mouth. Deafening agony resonated in the air, as both he and Adran shrieked.

Vibrant red and sparkling gold blood bled onto the floor, pooling under them.

Yet, Adran had only one thing stuck in his mind. One thing he was holding onto; that last thread of sanity. Golden-red blood oozed from his face as tears, when he looked at the terrified Dane from the corner of his eyes.

“Save them,” he… forced his mouth to form the words.

Then, with the thought of his little brother, Adran howled in sync with The Golden one last time, before he tore every part of him out of the worlds and destroyed himself in the process.

Completely and permanently.

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO NEFE COSMIA, ELSTER. 🌓

ꕥ — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: clara age: 31 pronouns: any pronouns ooc contact: twt @ blackring004 other characters in xc: zoya (path to nowhere), marcille donato (dungeon meshi), hella (path to nowhere), maki (jujutsu kaisen)

ꕥ — IC INFORMATION;

name: LSTR-512/elster age: adult; appears to be in her middle-to-late 20s. pronouns: she/her series: signalis canon point: post the events of the "leave" route. app triggers: war / canon typical violence / gun violence / mental and physical deterioration / psychological horror / cosmic horror / cancer / asphyxiation.

personality:

FOCUSED: elster's straightforwardness comes from the preference in keeping interactions brief. this mostly happens when she's focused on getting something done, or when talking to someone she's not very acquainted with. STOIC…?: a facade brought forth by her tunnel visioning tendencies. but that's the extent of what it really is: a facade. those who push through this initial point get to see what lies beyond it. DEDICATED: beyond her neural path and programming, elster takes her devotion seriously. not something extended to everyone she meets, but rather to those who earned it. that's how it goes most of the time, right?

history / background:

( wake up. )

elster is an LSTR unit replika who is woken up by a radio signal played by the eusan nation. she emerges from the penrose, a spaceship that has crashed onto the frozen planet leng. she navigates her way through the snowstorm to find a large hole in the ground and jumps into it, landing her in a familiar room with a copy of the king in yellow. events eventually lead her into S-23 sierpinski, a mining facility.

elster fights her way through the facility in search of her gestalt, alina seo, and ventures deep down into the mines. down there, she finds a path leading out towards a red, sandy expanse with obsidian pillars. she also finds scatters of other LSTR units as she walks, leading up to the penrose, which she tries to get into. too injured and fatigued, elster has one of her arms ripped from the exertion she put in trying to open the hatch and falls down. she fades away…

…only to wake up once more, in the penrose. elster goes through a dream and remembers whom her real gestalt is, ariane yeong. she relives the day they celebrated their 3000th cycle together until it's eventually time to wake up again, called into consciousness by the same radio signal.

this time, elster arrives on rotfront and fights to complete a puzzle displaying the phases of the moon on each planet. once solved, a hole widens to let elster crawl through, taking her to the same familiar room once more. as it turns out, this is ariane's room in her aunt's apartment. elster walks out to a long hall that takes her back to falke's room, the commanding FKLR unit of S-23 sierpinski. falke's bioresonance is surmountable to the great empress, and as a result makes her easily susceptible to ariane's bioresonance powers. having attuned so deeply to them, her dreams mix with hers, and her identity begins merging with ariane and elster's both, leaving her a broken existence that yearns for a promise that will be fulfilled.

perhaps any part of falke that remained resented them, or perhaps this grief that doesn't belong to her has overtaken her body, as falke attacks elster with the intent to become one.

elster defeats falke and runs out to the red expanse to get to the penrose once more. here, the true condition of the penrose is shown—filled with waste, dust, and damaged metals. elster gets to the cryopod to find ariane resting there and is asked to fulfill her promise. the promise that compelled her to be here in the first place. with her hands around ariane's neck, elster finds herself struggling under the weight of her love. the promise is left unfulfilled as elster leaves penrose behind, as well as the parts that got her here, like the chestplate. exhausted and sustained damage crush what's left of her soul, the promise she swore to carry through bringing her to her knees.

… … …

maybe next time.

powers / abilities:

n/a.

inherent abilities:

REPLIKA — a fancy word for android. replika units require a "blueprint" in order to function, those are called neural pathways. since those are created by using a gestalt's memories, they come with manuals on what not to do in order to keep their neural pathways intact. TECHNICAL & COMBAT KNOWLEDGE — LSTR units are programmed to excel on both ship management, self-upkeep and in combat, making them reliable units all around. ENHANCED DURABILITY & STRENGTH — it comes with being designed as a combat unit.

items / weapons:

LSTR DOCUMENTS — meant for gestalt eyes only, the paper brown envelope holds every detail about LSTR units, and how to handle them. it's open. REVOLVER — just a simple revolver. nothing special about it. holds up 6 cartridges. UPGRADE — additional LSTR parts that can upgrade her into a better, more proficient combat unit. it enhances her strength and endurance.

starting ability: n/a. starting item: LSTR documents.

would you like this character to be housed upon arrival?: no

extra:

those are her fucking hooves.

discord id: promise512

[todd-queen]

WHEN THE WORLD FALLS APART AND YOUR BODY STARTS TO ROT, LET THE ROACHES LEAD.

I believe I may have to be this book's champion. If you took the body horror of The Fly (1986), the cosmic horror of Annihilation (2018), and the downright absurdity of 1408 (2007) and mixed them together, you would only begin to describe the absolute thrill ride that is I Will Rot Without You.

It's a story about how it literally feels to rot from the inside out. It's about finding your place in the universe, amongst a city's ever growing insect population. And most importantly, it's a story about love. About how love changes us. And all the horrors that come along with it <3

[lcatala]

A short review of T. Kingfisher's The Twisted Ones.

So I've read The Twisted Ones, a horror novel by @tkingfisher that mixes elements of southern gothic, folk horror, body horror and cosmic horror. In short: it was very good.

I liked the quirky, just-ever-so-slightly sarcastic tone going thru the story, conveying the sense of a narrator using humor as a defense mechanism. I liked the mystery, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together, the background details and set-dressing coming back to bite you at the end. I liked Bongo, he's a good dog. I like especially the middle part, the horror of being alone in wide open spaces, the horror of solitude in the wilderness in broad daylight.

The story has — not the problem, but the "difficulty" inherent to mystery horror and evoked by Stephen King, that once you open the mystery door with the scary monster behind it, the monster can never be as scary as the reader imagined it. But that's a difficulty inherent to the genre, it has nothing to do with the author's skills.

And of course the audience's experience plays a lot too. I'm probably an outlier, in that I rewatch Alien regularly and I wouldn't even put it in the top 10 most fucked up horror movies I've seen. At this point in my life as an avid consumer of horror fiction, if something doesn't go as hard and unhinged as Antichrist, Men or The Outwaters in its climax, it probably won't even register as "fucked up" to me. Which doesn't mean I can't enjoy it — not fucked up is fine too!

But I am probably not the "normal" audience for that book, and my "this is fine" is likely to be most people's "augh, oh god, why". And this is very much a me-problem. I go into horror knowing full well it's unlikely to scare me, and that I'll enjoy it for different reasons than most people; I just have to keep this in mind when recommending stuff to other people.

And I do recommend this one. It's not the most unhinged thing I have read so you'll probably be fine. Probably. I'm looking forward to read more horror novels by Kingfisher, in any case; this is very much "my jam", as people who don't skip breakfast say.

[libartz]

Detail on the Perlas Struggles

LDBness comes with its struggles.

There's the interpersonal struggles

*Good at taking care of people -> ends up feeling responsible for way too many. There's his kids, his husbands, her college, their mage city, the explorers' guild (which he does mostly let run itself), being thane of Hjaalmarch, and defending the general public. It's a lot

*Good at looking like he has it together + celebrity status -> feels like he can't open up about his struggles and has major impostor syndrome. I headcanon that priests essentially double as therapists, but he can't even do it anonymously because you can't exactly be sneaky about 'I have so many souls it feels like I'm going to explode'. Also not many regular people would be sympathetic to 'Help, people keep throwing themselves at my feet no matter how many times I ask them to stop'

He frequently goes to the greybeards and paarthurnax and the dragon buddies, because they're the only ones who understand a lot of it and can provide solutions.

*OP superpowers -> afraid of his own strength and also angsts over whether he should get involved in x conflict. People at the college want to study the powers so he starts feeling like less of a person.

*Influential and loved by the public -> the elite are all perturbed by him and looking to undermine his power. And he feels distant from the regular people he used to be one of. He'll sometimes want to be friends with someone new but then they find out who he is and they start treating him differently…

And the trauma...

------

When the second great war rolls around he and the dragons win it in like 2 weeks. People are overjoyed, relieved. Meanwhile he's just singlehandedly killed thousands of his own people, a lot of whom were definitely indoctrinated and/or conscripted (and there might have even been conscripted nonaltmer in there). That definitely throws things into turmoil back home where they were already having population issues. Much of his homeland likely hates him, even if they were rebels, because oi, you killed my brother and my father and...

He develops selective mutism after that because he's so afraid he'll kill someone with his voice. It takes months for him to even speak again. She learns sign language for whenever it strikes. Valdimar is great during this, knowing how traumatic it is to be in a war and also knowing some Thu'um himself. He may well have gone through something similar after the first great war.

Plus the cosmic horror creepiness of devouring the souls of other beings. He's empathetic so it bothers him. Some of his friends joke about it to relieve the tension and he hates that.

------

Another whole thing is the effects of the gaining of more dragon souls. His emotions were already on the surface, which is good for him because they’ve got some emotional intelligence going. But now they're extremely strong, and also difficult to hide. Meditating and practicing her powers manages them, as well as the sense of restlessness. There's always a sort of baseline urge to scream something into dust which he can't exactly act on. He's starting to understand why dragons tend to be so destructive.

Having many dragon souls, he feels too small for their body and sometimes gets overheated and almost like an internal sensory overload if he doesn't manage them enough. Absorbing new ones feels good and invigorating (aside from the mixed feelings he has about consuming a whole being) but it's getting to the point where he's like please no more. And he gets knowledge and memories from them, which can be both good and bad- helpful, interesting, but there’s also some scary stuff in there. Making weapons from dragon souls at the dragon forge has the dual purpose of giving cool stuff to his friends and relieving some of the chaos.

[loyalmonsterfan]

Summer of Horror Exchange 2022 Letter

Hello, gifter! Thank you so much for checking out my letter. I'm excited to be a part of this exchange!

I've noticed people adding this after the AO3 update, so just to clarify: I have gifting on and treats are welcome! <3

DNW: hospital setting, rape/noncon (dubcon is okay), mundane AUs, entrapment in time loops

Malevolent

Subgenres: Body Horror, Comedic Horror, Cosmic Horror, Monster Horror, Psychological Horror

Arthur Lester & The King in Yellow

Bring on the psychological horror! Remember in Part 18: The Madness when Arthur tried to logic his way out of the garden and it didn't work? And how Arthur fought through the false memories to get back to himself? I'd love to see more of that. Did Arthur have madness nightmares in the prison pit? Does he ever doubt what's a human nightmare, what's a KIY nightmare, and what's reality? How does he (try to) hold onto himself through it all? (Body horror and cosmic horror also welcome and encouraged.)

John & Mr. Kayne & Arthur Lester

Kayne is cosmic horror personified. I love that even John, a former eldritch god, can't comprehend exactly what Kayne is capable of and why. If John and Arthur stuck together longer (or even if you want to write Yellow instead), how might Kayne fuck with them some time in their journey? Feel free to go comedic here too- a Kayne POV fic about how this whole situation is entertainment for him would also be delightful.

Kayne & The King in Yellow

Two eldritch horrors: what will they get up to? Are they frenemies who bicker about the best way to keep a cult in line? Or does Kayne use his greater power/status to mess with the King while he's weakened? Kayne looked human to John and Arthur- what form does he present to the King? There's lots of room for comedic horror, gore (eldritch horrors maiming each other like some twisted slap fight perhaps?), or even psychological and cosmic depending on their dynamic.

John & The King in Yellow

Identity crises!!! I keep thinking about how trying to get John back is probably the biggest challenge the King has had in eons. What is that like for the King? What is it like when they reunite at the end of Part 20? What if Kayne didn't interfere and they stayed together? King POV, John POV, or cultist POV are all welcome.

John & Arthur Lester

Bodysharing! Forced teamwork! They are really a great team. The recent Goreswap exchange got me into Arthur transformation/apotheosis, so more of that is very welcome. Arthur coping with a new, unfamiliar body and John having mixed feelings about experiencing something closer to his old self is a fantastic combination. (Smut in the aftermath in a fresh new monster body is also fun.)

Character death is also welcome! I love a good bittersweet dying together- John telling Arthur it's okay to let go, that they'll find each other, anything like that breaks my heart. John being terrified but pushing it aside to be there for Arthur while Arthur fades. And perhaps they have a horrific Dark World adventure on the other side too.

In general, I love John and Arthur being protective of each other (and possessive! They belong to each other!), fighting at inconvenient times but still making it through together, learning how to communicate and work as an unconventional team, all that good stuff. Feel free to draw on any of my selected subgenres for this one.

SAYER

Subgenres: Body Horror, Cosmic Horror, Comedic Horror, Psychological Horror, Science Fiction Horror

Fandom-specific DNW: focus character being awake under the effects of trinic themeron.

FUTURE & SAYER & Howard Young (SAYER), SAYER & Howard Young (SAYER), FUTURE & Howard Young (SAYER)

I just enjoy when Howard Young faces consequences for his hubris, okay? There was a post at some point about how the human Dr. Young tries to be immortal and keeps dying, and subentity Young can't die. Yeah. Dr. Howard Young is very human, and he crossed the wrong AIs, so he learns to fear those he thought beneath him. I'd love to see more of that playing out between them.

Jolene (H.P. Lovecraft Version) - Michael Kelly (song)

Any character, Any & Any

I saw this was nominated, listened to it, and thought "sure, why not?" Have fun!

[frosted-night]

Pitch Concept Design Review

I tried to track down most, if not all of Pitch’s concept designs. Both book and movie designs. They’re really interesting.

Book Pitch Designs

The first complete drawing of Pitch Joyce made. Honestly he looks like a corpse here and it’s p creepy. This what Joyce said about this design from his insta

He looks like a shell of his former self tbfh. Rating: 5/10 creepy but not my cup of tea. Pitch get some face cream please.

The refined version of his first drawing. I like this version much better but he still has something off about his face that doesn’t make me fully comfortable. Not to mention he is HUGE

Thats a bonus honestly. Love the flowing hair he is depicted with.

Here he is colored. I prefer this nightmare spear than the staff hes depicted with in those drawings. Overall this is a more human looking Pitch but still very likely to kill you. Book Pitch has a body count and he fits that. Love his flared color and long hair. Fancy

Rating: 9/10 Looking great while getting ready to commit murder

This was  an interpretation of Pitch who was freshly turned by the fearlings/dream pirates. Joyce said he still wears his golden age armor but Ima be honest. This one is uh. Hm. I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s going on with his face/skin and honestly I’m trying not to think about it. Rating: 3/10 Looks like a burn victim steam punk man

This one isn’t too different than the one before but it has more features here than before. Let’s see what Joyce said about it.

He just can’t help himself with the steam punk can he. I think my feelings here are the same. Rating: 3/10 Interesting concept but still not vibing with it entirely.

AND NOW FOR THE MOVIE DESIGNS HERE WE GO

Ah yes the beetle juice looking one. Gotta love him. He’s got a much different aura than the other Pitch’s and its interesting. He looks like he very much enjoys giving nightmares as a form of entertainment. Rating: 7/10 A fun lad

So uh This was in the art book .... I have no idea about this one either. Some say he looks like a hand, some say he looks kinda animal like? I can’t make heads or tails. But you’re cursed to see him now. Rating: 1/10 Please stay out of my dreams

Another design from the art book. This one definitely looks like a sleep paralysis demon and a mix of ganondorf. Not much else to say besides hoo lord Rating: 5/10 Creepy please stay 60 ft away

PROBABLY THE CREEPIEST ONE IN MY OPINION. He looks exactly like a shadow person/sleep paralysis demon and good lord. If i saw this standing at the end of my bed I’d pass away right then and there. Rating: 9/10 I dig this one so much

Now we’re getting into the very abstract looking Pitch designs. I think these are all very similar so I’m just gonna group them together

Okay so. These definitely give off an aura of this being is very old. Some accentuate his nose n some don’t but thats okay. This one doesn’t strike my fancy but I can appreciate him. He somehow looks dadly here too? I can’t explain it. Overall p good Rating: 6/10 decent and inhuman looking.

BOY OH BOY ITS TIME

Eldritch Pitch just gets less and less humanoid as the pics go on. I cannot stress enough how much I love this version of him. It feels much more ancient than the previous design. It’s incomprehensible almost, straight out of a lovecraftian horror. This is literal fear embodied and a cosmic level threat. I adore this Pitch with all my heart

Rating:10/10 There needs to be more of him more love.

Can’t go wrong with what we got though. I don’t even need to rate him y’all already know. His book design, the Eldritch design and this one are my favorites. (And the sleep paralysis one its a new fave.)

Rating: 100000/10 I’m gay.

[semischarmed]

Chrysalis, Part 3

This was the day. The tremors have only intensified. I feel myself tearing at the arm that I had fully bonded with Kyle. If I don’t act soon that’s all that’s gonna be left of me in him. So I decided it had to be today. I’ve been shivering all over too, probably in fear or anticipation? Probably both.

By no means was Red ready. He had a natural fighting streak so it wasn’t gonna be a smooth process. As prepared as I was, the odds were stacked against me. This body’s connection with me has degraded significantly faster than I had anticipated. Had I gone with anyone else, I’d be permanently one with Kyle by now, but of course it had to start with Red. No use crying over spilled milk. Taking Red would be the struggle of a lifetime. Had it just been me in my old body, I would have given up outright. But I was Kyle now, and Kyle does Not. Give. Up.

———

I fight a long, close game in the early afternoon and we barely eke out a win- mostly thanks to me, despite my current condition. I hug my teammates as our sweat and smells coalesce in the blazing sun. We bake uncomfortably long in the heat. They really were great teammates. Kyle basically did a 180 in their eyes, being far more comfortable, far more sociable, far more filthy- yet they accept me regardless. I breath them in, remarking on them and myself for possibly the last time, before making my way back to my dorm. 

I stop halfway as I am instantly crippled in a massive tremor that forces me to the ground. I retch. This was too tenuous, too delicate. There would be no time for any detours. I immediately run for Sig Chi.

———

Red wakes in a cold sweat in his bed, in the filtered light of the moon, to the image of his naked little bro- to the image of me jacking off to him. Of course he had to also be a light sleeper.  

“Heyyy Big Bro” I whisper menacingly, licking my lips. Fuck. Ok, ok, gotta improvise.

“Kyle? Kyle! What the fuck?! How did you get here? And, oh fuck... Jeeezus, is that you? Dude you fucking reek” I could tell he was trying to categorize the smell, but I quickly correct him. 

“That’s right I fucking reek, this cute little meat-suit had a game today. This is what my team smells like, this is what a man smells like,” I rush up to the naked Red, who instinctively recoils and pulls his sheets up. I lean in to my speechless big bro, sticking my face close to his, bringing our foreheads together. Despite his overall friendliness, he was a dangerous one. I’ve never met so much resistance in a person. I could show him no weakness.

I grab his head with my hands, pointing it downward to our bare chests, so we can both smell our combined odor. “This is what we’ll smell like”.

Red attempts to defuse the situation. “Ok, ok dude, great prank” he laughs, obviously disturbed. “But I- “ Before he can continue, I smear a bit of precum over his lips. ”I can’t wait to make you mine... big bro” I moan. I cup his sweaty left pec with my hand, giving a slight squeeze. His nipples, rock hard. “Kyle, get the fuck off me! The fuck is this?!” He pushes me off his bed with a force I did not expect. Still, my Big Bro Red- being the nice guy he was- made sure to only push me safely into a pile of old clothes. With the parts of me that were already inside him, I restrict any further movement. He breaks free from my grasp in small blips of resistance.

Red struggles in vain to leave his bed and I focus my hold on his body further. “You know, I was wondering how much cum it would take for your body to start accepting mine...” I trail. “Kyle, what the fuck are you talking about... what is this?!” He again struggles to move against his invisible restraints. I grab his water bottle and lift it up near him, giving it a little shake, motioning to it with my head. “Cmon, there’s no way you haven’t noticed... How’d you like the exclusive taste of me?” He shakes his head, utterly revolted, horrified, while a tent begins to form in his bedsheets. He looks down stating “no, no, that.... that’s not me... Kyle, this is...” I smile, amused, at the situation. Half-truth. For one he was wrong, that body of his was most definitely turned on. But I concede, if anything, that it was probably the result of his constant exposure to my seed moreso than his actual feelings for his little bro in the frat. Though his body had not been fully primed to accept me, I decide to continue layering on the mental damage, to better ease me in for the upcoming fight.

Since Red had so rudely interrupted my little session, I decide to continue where I left off, pumping my meat in front of him as I tear off his bedsheets.

“Oh Red, oh god Red! My roommate... he-he snuck inside me and ah fuck he took me... he stole me... poisoned my insides with himself... twisted me- look at me when I’m fucking talking Red- Look at how I wear his cute smile. Look how his body, his muscles, his feelings bend to my will. I make a great Kyle don’t I? Look how good I am at playing with my dick. Well I am Kyle, so of course I’m a great fucking Kyle.” Before I finish, I slip just my hand inside his- its veins flare up at my intrusion but I maintain the control of our now-shared appendage, bringing it up so we can examine it together. I wink at him before I seductively suck each of our fingers while I push my arm into his further. He watches in shock as he feels every motion. “But, you know Red, you know my roommate? That asshole is pretty greedy, asked me who else he’d look great in... and I told him I thought he’d make a great Red. I told him we’d be great at wearing your skin.” With our joint hand, I continue to pump my hard on, reveling in Red’s confusion and disgust in the process. I grab his dick, bringing it next to mine and letting him pleasure us both at the same time with his rough hand. He sweats as he continues to control his emotion, attempting to remain stoic. On the other hand, I am reduced to moans and whimpers- a sight that probably looks incredibly off coming from Kyle. His lip trembles and he lets out a soft grunt and a massive wave of pleasure hits us both. We begin to feel the sensations from each other’s dick in the process. Our breaths are shallow, and I look into my future eyes. 

“I-I’m a special case though. This?” I gesture to my own body with my free hand, as I explode, splashing a little on Red’s lips and lot on myself. Red explodes soon after and he stifles a moan. I now drag our shared hand all over my body, smearing and mixing our cum together over my stolen abs and his. “Kyle is fully mine. Forever. And you’re gonna make sure we stay that way.”

I raise Red’s now-slick, now-possessed hand again for him to examine. Veins rise as it struggles to resist my control, but I double down, giving a mean smirk and balling our shared hand into a fist. “If was just possessing him, we wouldn’t be able to then possess your hand. This? This is proof that he and I are one.” I follow by using that hand to squeeze my dick and Red’s together, until they coalesce into just his. Red is in shock at the events that have just unfolded, and I intend to use that situation to my full advantage. “No hard feelings big bro, you’re cute and all but I’m his forever home”. I lace my knees beneath his and smash my lower half into him. I feel his body clench and cringe until it is forced to accept mine. “Still, thank you for being there for me. When I realized we needed a new chrysalis to complete me... I knew it could only be through my Big Bro Red. I knew I could depend on your hot bod.” Our legs are one.

In one swift motion, I also slam my sticky wet chest into his, causing him to yelp in disgust and horror. I take the dribbling of my cum on his chin and, using our combined hand, I shove my seed into his mouth. I keep our fingers jammed into his mouth, making sure he gets a good taste of some fresh Kyle cum and his own beefy fingers. “Eat that shit up. I want that taste still in my mouth when I’m inside you” I moan. I snake my free arm into his other bicep. It shivers, glistening in the moonlight, covered in perspiration. Vibrating, his arm yields control to its new master- to me. These arms belong to Kyle now. “God we’re so close babe,” I moan. By now, only the upper edge of my chest and head are sticking out of his. I test out the new arms I have in my possession. They’re far larger than Kyle’s so I decide to stop here for a bit and revel in maneuvering my new sweaty biceps. I make Red flex for them me, and in straining movements, he is forced to show me what they can do. I moan, as my free head falls on his shoulder, drained from the process. 

“Honestly, I only settled on your ass cause you’re the next Pledgemaster. I knew you’d be perfect for slipping on some of next year’s pledges, perfect for making great fucking puppets out of this frat.” I mumble to his shoulder before looking back up at him. “But now? After getting to know you a little more? I think want something a little more. I want a taste of that ginger dick. I want a taste of that best friend of yours. Jeremy- he’s fucking hot- I bet he’s delicious, but I bet he’d be even fucking hotter and taste even fucking better from his best friend’s mouth. And when I’m inside him, wearing him as my new puppet, I want it to be because you stuffed me in there.” Emotionally, I think I have him defeated. His body more freely yields to me and my becoming Kyle is almost finally complete.

I intend to continue spouting weird shit to spook him but the part of me still outside of Red slips in a wave of cosmic shock, partially removed from Kyle. I shake violently in pain. Shit. Before I can recover, Red picks up on it and begins to fight me with his body all over. He flares to life and I feel his all out attack on me. “Kyle, Kyle, you gotta fight this. Cmon man, fight your roommate!” I feel my grasp over him slipping. 

“Fuck off” I growl, losing my composure. “He likes us this way. Wants us as one permanently-forever-together because I am Kyle. You wouldn’t understand. Here, have a taste of your little’s hot mouth.” I lean up and kiss him unexpectedly, digging my tongue into his mouth, merging my lips with his. 

He tries to scream, only to be stifled to a  “mmphhph”. I glide my tongue over his, wrestling it into submission before jamming it inside of his. I stifle a moan as our tongues become one. I slam my face ever closer to him, until we both breath and speak from the same mouth, until at last we can only see each other’s eyes. I give him a quick wink before finishing my possession and locking myself inside my human chrysalis.

Red’s body continues to light with tremors as the fight inside drags on. I make sure to cum a little more inside him, to layer more of myself and cement him forever mine. His eyes roll to the back of his head and his mouth opens unwarranted as he settles the last of his hold over his body to fight me. Goddamn he is tenacious. After what feels like hours, his body finally yields to me. He shakes viciously as the universe begins its correction. Red collapses onto the ground. In Red’s core I feel the last of Kyle’s essence integrate into my own. I feel the permanence of our connection. Nothing would ever take me out of Kyle again. I was Kyle- past, present and future. Natural order had been restored. Inside Red I felt safe, secure, complete.

I feel Red’s sweet release. He’s at peace, at bliss, since I can finally connect to his deepest parts, rearranging him into my perfect vessel. He would be mine forever. Then, I feel the fight from his mind. He grasps his body again, reiterating, begging for “Kyle” to break free from my control.

“I am here” I stated as Red, but only Kyle’s voice comes out. I break out of my shell. My naked form expels itself from Red, covered our juices, covered in my aura of forever. I close my eyes, breathing in the dank night air in Red’s room. He’s right, I fucking reek, but it felt good to smell it as a permanent Kyle. It felt good to stand with my permanently athletic legs. It felt good to use that word. Permanent.

Of course, I also left a lot of my seed in Red. Rearranged his insides so they’d better fit me. I watch expectantly at the soon-to-be reborn Red. Control over his body lights up in my mind. Red was mine. 

I examine him as Kyle, playfully humming in his voice softly while I circle -around him, lightly tracing the outlines of his muscles- of my new acquisition. I will him to give me another gun-show. His body complies. Fuck. Yes. My Big Bro’s hot ginger ass was truly mine to control. “Cmon babe, you have to admit...” I trail as Kyle. “I wear you well”. As Red, my faces dances in ecstatic joy before giving myself a wink.

Red’s body giggles as I assert more control of his frame and do some small seductive dances in front of my main body. “Yeah... all me” I moan as Red- though only Kyle’s voice comes out of him. Something else was still missing. “But I think this needs a little more.” I say out loud. I worship my new self with the two new bodies I control. In the midst of my little play session, I feel Red’s mind stir within me. There it was.

I feel him inside me, digging through my mind to look for his friend, to pull Kyle out of my grasp. I feel him desperately claw his way around and decide to humor him, giving him full access to me. In increasing anguish, he pulls to my corners, digs through the depths of my mind trying to find a separate Kyle to rescue him from his roommate’s clutches. Instead, he finds no separation, no distinction between my old self and Kyle’s. When he digs, looking for Kyles memories, he instead finds them interlaced with my own. In the physical world, Red’s face paints itself with a deranged smile. I surround Red’s Psyche “Told you he was special... he’s mine forever... don’t worry though, big bro. You didn’t lose Kyle. I’m right here. You won’t be alone. I’ll be right here, inside you too”. I briefly lose control of Red’s body as I continue with my all out assault on his mind. Red’s face cringes in pain as I bombard his sense of self, embedding me inside his psyche, corrupting my Big Bro with my perversions. He briefly laughs sadistically, yielding to his newfound gifts, yielding to the pieces of me I put inside him. He moans, wrapping more of my psyche into himself “fuck yeah, babe. Keep going, I’m a good Big Bro... I can take it” before shaking his head in anger “fuck you Kyle!” The switch inside Red flips back and he resumes into moans and filthy whispers about me wearing his skin. He again snaps back and punches the nearby wall. “FUCK!” he shouts. God he was strong. I already had his body, I already had his mind, I already had Red by all accounts, yet through pure resolve alone he resists me. God I couldn’t wait to have that will of steel as my own. In any case, It looks like his body’s inclinations just needs a final little push. 

I assert my new dominance over Red’s body, slapping my Kyle-self in the face, before finally speaking with Red’s voice, using it for the first time. Just controlling his voice was invigorating. “You sick fuck, Kyle. Look what you did to me, what you did in me. Toppled your Big Bro Red, conquered me, just like that. Wore my ass like suit and then left your squirmy little pieces inside” I lace his words with sex. Coming out of Red, out of my Big Bro, it feels almost blasphemous. Fuck yeah, Red feels great to be in. This body is amazing. I received the slap in Kyle with a moan. “Fuck yeah, big bro, it feels good doesn’t it? You like being my little puppet, don’t you? You want me in there, wearing you like a glove...” As Red I twirl my new fiery locks with my new, thicker fingers, “Yeah little bro... but I think we need an extra little punishment for you, for being such a fucking creep.” I make Red pout, sucking on his index finger while he continues “ How about your weird roommate jumps inside you and sews himself into your insides. How about he go even further and actually become your insides. How about he actually becomes you... How about your hot Big Bro make it permanent” I cackle maniacally as Red while Kyle’s face shifts into the dirty sneer I make us wear.

I parse Red’s mind for his reaction. It was from this point that he realizes just how far I went with Kyle. How much I became him. He relents at the matter, equally angry and aroused, finally understanding that Kyle was the one that took possession of him. Kyle created the plans to corrupt the frat. Kyle was the one did these heinous deeds because there was no difference between Kyle and his creepy roommate. Because I was Kyle. 

Red wrestles back control of his body. “Fuck you Kyle, I’ll make you fucking pay for this. When I break free I’m gonna-” I cut him off as I sneer with Kyle’s face, making Red’s do the same as I continue his sentence in moans “-come crawling back because I’m your bitch forever.” I laugh heartily in his voice. Time for that little push. 

In the heat of moment, I let him feel the sheer thrill of having both bodies under control, the sheer thrill of being me, before granting him control over his own body while I resonate within his psyche over the sheer ecstasy. He moans loudly “Fuck yeah... good boy... be a good Little, while dear Red here shows you how it’s done...” He rushes behind my main body, dragging his muscular arms in front of my chest feeling me up. We feel both sensations. Indescribable bliss. He leans in to my ear “we have unfinished business, bitch. It’s all your fault I’m like this... these-these... feelings...” he moans. “This is unnatural... and your punishment... your puppet wants a more” he licks my ear, probing his thick slimy tongue all over while his vascular hands tousle my sweaty hair. “C’mon Kyle. You know this body was built for fucking. Let me teach you how to use it right. Put on my skin- put this brain on. Wear me. Wear your big bro’s stud bod. Put your dick inside of mine. Haven’t-“  he trails off, grabbing his head in anguish “damn it... Kyle, why... why I am I like this...I’m a monster...  What did you do to me?!” Tears well in Red’s eyes, before he catches a whiff of my scent. He goes into a toothy grin as anguish flips to a lustful frenzy. He grabs my rod in his vascular hands, and begins pumping it. He moans as we are both hit with the feeling. “Actually, no... this is good. This feels right. This is correct. I’m not a monster, I’m a fucking god. Kyle you have a decent dick... but haven’t you wondered what bigger was like? I’m bigger. Look at this thick cock. Your big bro’s got you. Come back inside, where it’s safe...” Red slams his sweaty body onto my back, dragging me inside, encasing me in his muscular flesh. He locks his arms under my own, preventing my escape, and I play along, writhing in his grasp as he draws me back, deeper and deeper into him. “I want you squirming inside me when we fuck Jeremy. When we fuck the rest of the frat... I want-I need you to do it with this dick... contaminate them. Inject them with it. Give em a little taste of Red and Kyle.” Inside Red, I sheath his dick over my own, but continue letting him take the lead. “Fuck yeah.. that’s the stuff..” He moans. “FUCK YEAH” he roars, “trying” to push me out of him. I resist, as much as I can anyway, until I can no longer maintain it and am suddenly pushed out of him. ”Not yet, bitch” he murmurs, before his flesh greedily devours mine again, moaning all the while. We repeat this a few times, edging him closer and closer. 

I am paralyzed in bliss at the sensations, but Red maintains a better grasp of his emotions. He walks his inflamed, Kyle-filled self over to the pile of dirty, soccer-drenched clothes on the floor that I had I worn prior to getting into his room. He brings them up to his nose, inhaling deeply. “More...” he whispers... “I need more of you”. He puts them on, huffing in short, frenzied breaths, starting with the dirty  compression shorts I had worn for my game. They are stretched impossibly tight on his ass, and he moans when the waistband snaps back at our shared dick. We proceed with the soccer shirt, thick biceps ripping the sleeves and turning it into a tank. The remains of my dirty shirt cling onto Red’s torso like a second skin, imprinting the delicate curve of each ab, each bicep, and each nipple on to its straining fabric.“Thank you... for the Kyle Sandwich” he whimpers in a trance as his eyes roll to the back of his head and we collapse onto the floor. We smell like my team after a long game. We smell like the forest. Equal parts putrid and petrichor. We smell like ecstasy. His eyelids flutter. “Good little bro”. 

Then, tranquility is broken when he pushes me out. “grrrAHHH FUCk YOU KYLE” he half-shouts, half -moans. I am speechless. My form is again forcibly removed from his- I feel my visage imprint over his own, stretching his taught skin as it wraps over mine. I can see the light of day with my own eyes, and feel my cheeks stretched and melded to his freckled skin. Just a bit more. From behind me, where the back of my head should be, I feel Red’s smile and moan, as he feels my weight above him. He takes his thick arms rubbing them all over me, making sure I was stimulated the entire time I was being pushed out of him. “You got the right idea Kyle- no more deodorant for your big bro Red... we smell fucking better like this” I feel him stir, getting ready to pounce-no doubt to drag me back in. Before I can even say anything, I quickly realize the limits of my depossession. The process of pushing me out of him has slowed to a crawl. As my body continues to be expelled, to be raised out of Red, I am met with my own impossibly tight shirt and underwear, drenched in our sweat and restricting my freedom. The further my body leaves, the tighter we are pulled together by the fabric. We both moan this time. “Fuck Kyle! Get out! Get the fuck out of me!” he play-screams half convincingly, as he does a crunch with me above him. I feel the crunch from behind and he forcibly worms my own form back inside him. I pass out at the sensory overload. 

When I awake, I awake in Red. I walk to the mirror and see his face as my own. In split second intervals, my Kyle-self stretches out his skin and attempts to leave before it is pulled back. We are tight. Nauseatingly full-impossibly so. By all accounts, Kyle’s body should have been expelled from Red after being inside this long-possession doesn’t usually last this long, but my little fighter, my Big Bro Red will not let me go. We are held together by my own clothing and his sheer will. Partners. Amalgamate. Corrupt. I quickly take control and feel his voice in the back of my mind, screaming at me to get out- again, only half-convincingly. For all his perfection, Red really needed some acting lessons. I begin to feel the effects of being stuck in his body for so long, as a lightness and a numbness washes over me. Yet in that same vein I feel indescribably close to him, with a hyper-awareness of Red’s body. This can’t last too long, I assume, as both of us have long since hit our limit. I throw up involuntarily on the floor- it’s all just cum. 

Instead of stopping, the previous process repeats again. Our little possession dance happens again and again and again after that until we are utterly drained. We live as one Red, constantly in turmoil in the inside and perpetually in heat. Finally, a full three days later, we are both satisfied. I finally truly break from him as a lone Kyle. For one, I fucking smell, but also I am still a student. This whole experience had been immensely tiring. Still, I felt a sense of peace, in knowledge that new-Red would never leave me. 

———

Though I initially wanted to fully take and possess Red, to use his body as a mindless puppet for my own, I kind of like our current setup. I moved into his room the very next day after our little break, much to the annoyance to the rest of Sig Chi. Red moans all the time when I possess him- he’s not particularly quiet about it either, and he begs for it every other day, before berating me when I actually follow through. Our “incestuous” nature is pretty clear to the rest of my frat brothers but they awkwardly avoid the subject. Jeremy is the only one that’s visibly pissed- guess we’re breaking every law in frat code or something. Whatever. If anything, they’ll all be seeing the light someday soon- and we have something extra special planned for Jeremy anyway. 

I like to keep Big Bro Red in a pendulum state, between full autonomy and full possession. Even now, he constantly ‘fights’, attempting to push me out of him in vain and then dragging my ass back inside. To be honest, I find this whole setup kind of hot. I sure he does too. We’re always wrestling for control inside him, even though we both knew he was mine forever. I’ve extended the offer a few times to just jump into someone else in the frat or even leave forever but he always throws a big fit about it. Maybe he liked by puppetted by his little bro. Maybe he liked the fight. Maybe one day, I’ll actually fully take him. Of course, for now his red hot body runs a little warmer these days from our constant little dance. For now, I’ve been just been having fun, jumping in and out of him, swimming through his insides. We’ve been meaning to share too, naturally. There are some others on my mind- Red’s best friend, the Sig Chi president Jeremy- who we both agree that hot, dominant ass would make a for lovely little body to wear. Before Red, I was fine as just one person. I am forever grateful that he was my chrysalis, that he first full possession as Kyle. Because he helped me realize a king needs subjects. One day, I’ll take them all- every last hot piece of ass in this school. But for now, I’m content with occasionally just controlling and wearing Red, just wearing my proof of authenticity as Kyle.

—End Part 3—

Phew. Next story’s probably gonna be a bit lighter.

[wixelt]

Snapshots (Hermitcraft: Scattered AU ficlet)

@hermitcraftheadcanons

(Short Hermit ficlet for the Scattered AU, while the AU is still relatively fresh. Wanted to play with untouched ideas, such as Biffa not having really featured (among others), as well as how Bdubs’ spawn would affect Etho, and the fact that xB was originally with Iskall rather than Cub, so I wondered how he ended up with Cub instead.

Also referenced a couple other people’s AU ficlets, for cohesion and funsies. Hopefully if you’ve been following Scattered, you’ll be able to spot them. :D)

Potential TW: Character death/respawn

In a distant region of the world, Biffa walked alone.

The beach on which he’d spawned was behind him, barely a memory in comparison to what lay ahead. The brief Drowned induced cycle of death and respawn still played in his mind, but he did his best to push the memory aside.

Something had gone wrong here. Barely a few weeks into this nightmare, and this much he already knew.

There was no regeneration. And no chat. Or rather, what remained of the chat was strange. Broken, even.

He tried not to think too much about the death announcements clogging up his visor like clockwork.

ImpulseSV was killed by Guardian using magic

Stressmonster101 drowned

Grian froze to death

GoodTimeWithScar fell out of the world

ImpulseSV was killed by Guardian using magic

Keralis tried to swim in lava

Xisuma starved to death

TinFoilChef was slain by Ender Dragon

ImpulseSV was killed by Guardian using magic

This… This was difficult to find a silver lining in.

He had to soldier on, though. This much he knew. The Hermits had always been stronger together, with or without him. This, though, needed to be a with situation, if possible.

He made a promise, that he would see them all again. That they would find a way out of this, together, no matter how long it took.

Please… Everyone. Just hold out as long as you can.

Idly, he glanced away from the open plains he was crossing, looking down to check his compass. After a second, the world coordinates flashed up in his vision.

-2038938, 65, 4759493

It was a long, long way to spawn, and Biffa had no way of knowing if he was even the furthest out.

He hoped he was the furthest out.

 ***

 In a distant woodland mansion, in a back room graciously provided to him by his finally non-hostile hosts, Mumbo Jumbo – the only Hermit further out in the Overworld than Biffa – pondered over some blueprints of his own design, brow furrowed in annoyance. The pulse extender in his communication relay had blown again, and he still didn’t know why.

He was going to make this work. He had to.

Grian and Iskall would never let it go if he just gave up.

 ***

 In a slightly smaller coordinate, amidst the churning sands of an unforgiving desert, two men stood. They shook hands as they prepared to part ways, each having a different goal in mind.

xB had spied the mesas dotting the edge of the desert in the direction of spawn. There’d been noises from them at night. Noises that sounded – at least to him – like the echoes of player activity. Iskall didn’t believe him, but he was convinced he’d find another Hermit there.

Only miles away, in a mesa swaddled valley, Cub worked through the night to build his Nether Portal, yet unaware it would connect to another’s.

Iskall, meanwhile, turned his gaze outward, in the exact opposite direction to spawn. Call it a hunch, or perhaps – with wishful thinking – distorted signals picked up by his malfunctioning implant, but he knew there were other Hermits out there.

He didn’t know it yet, but it would be around a year before he saw anyone else again – too far from his spawnpoint for Etho to locate him. If he knew that in the present, would he make a different decision – leaving Mumbo all alone – or would he make the same sacrifice to salvage his friend’s sanity?

 ***

 Etho pitied whoever had been spawning in the darkness of the void. He’d been here for several hours and he was already utterly sick of the oppressive darkness and blistering wind – only broken up by the occasional End island shooting past as a vague outline in the distant fog.

To think, one of his friends was being forced to endure this on repeat. He dreaded to imagine what that was doing to their mental state.

He thought he heard them, now and then, screaming in the distance. It sounded like Bdubs to him, but it was too distant to tell. Maybe one day, if they survived this, he’d have the chance to ask.

This was the last thought to cross Etho’s mind as he succumbed to the emptiness. Hopefully, next time around, he’d be able to contact somebody and tell them where Impulse was…

 ***

 Bdubs couldn’t even cry anymore.

His body felt flimsy, weakened by the choking clutch of the void, the seemingly gravityless descent, and the wind burning past him. His hands were blackened, frozen with frostbite.

Or voidbite.

Not that he really cared anymore.

He just wanted it to end.

It never did.

And even when it did, it didn’t. Not really.

 ***

 Fingers shaking, Scar held the elytra tentatively in his hands as if it were made of brittle glass, a thin smile of relief crossing his otherwise cold features as he brushed his fingers over the taught feathers.

He’d done it. He was free and had a means of getting out of this place.

He swore he’d never return once he left. Not ever.

And yet… he knew the truth. He knew he’d be back here, in time.

To escape that damned, lone island, he had given in. He’d let the Vex into his soul once more, and he knew it would cost him dearly in the long run. The Vex mask hung on his belt like some cosmic weight, dragging him down… waiting for the time when he would inevitably don it again.

He only hoped he could find Cub and fix this before there wasn’t anything of Scar left to save.

…or perhaps, he considered with a glance to his paled hands, it was already too late for that.

That’s what the voices said, at least.

“…sssscccAAARRRRR!”

*crack*

Scar blinked in surprise, roused from the strings of the Vex as a person shaped blur dropped in front of him, impacting the end stone with a painful sound, face a mix of terror and surprise before it vanished in a flash of red and a plume of smoke.

The former mayor stared at the now empty ground for what felt like an eternity. He was numb, at first, but soon he felt a small glimmer of hope sprout in his soul.

It began to burn anew as his mind processed the face he’d seen.

“…Bdubs?”

 ***

 TFC was not having a good time.

Decades gone was the young champion who could go toe to toe with the Ender Dragon any day of the week. He’d retired from a more active lifestyle for a reason, after all.

So being trapped in the End – stomped on every few minutes – was hardly ideal.

His life of experience – if nothing else – had made him a patient man, though.

He knew the other Hermits – some better than others, admittedly – and he knew that they’d all find their way out their own death-traps sooner or later, even if they needed a little help. They were resourceful like that.

All he had to do was wait. And have a little faith too, perhaps. That never hurt.

The Ender Dragon seemed pretty pissed that he kept coming back – his calm smirk only serving to anger it further – so at least he had that.

 ***

 Screaming gale and lashing torrents of snow reared against the figure as he stepped off the porch and out into the relatively open air of the ravine. Even in this shaded spot, the weather was eternally fierce and angry. From his own experience of his spawnpoint – not far from here – Doc knew it was going to be worse up on the mountaintop.

But there was someone counting on him. He wouldn’t let them down.

“Now you be careful up there, alright?”

Doc turned at the voice, watching as Ren staggered to the doorway of the hastily constructed cabin, managing a smile. The dog man had recovered from his injuries in leaps and bounds since Doc had discovered both him and his hiding spot only a few days ago, but there was still a slight limp in his step, and the marks born from his struggles had yet to fully heal.

There was a reason Doc was making this trip alone.

“I will.” The cyborg nodded. “I won’t let them down.”

“I’ll get the fire ready for when you bring ‘em back.” Ren hummed, glancing up at the top of the ravine, frowning deeply. “They’re gonna need it.”

They’d both heard the screams echoing from above, both before and after they’d encountered one another. There’d been many confused moments of “Wait, that wasn’t you?”, before the obvious task at hand was made clear, and both thought to unmute the chat log, having muted it due to the endless alerts from Impulse’s depressing situation.

Now, more than ever, they knew they had to act.

Doc wasn’t going to leave Grian alone on that mountain for any longer than he had to.

 ***

 He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when that had happened – his mind was a blur of pain and numbed senses, now – but where once the feeling would return whenever he succumbed and respawned, there was now only nothing. It was as if his body had learnt not to waste the effort warming his extremities.

He didn’t have thoughts to spare on that sort of thing anymore, though.

Far behind him were thoughts about how he’d ended up in this situation.

Far behind him were the worries as he saw the names of his friends flood the chat alongside his own – one death after another – like some dark flood of horror.

Far behind him was the man who would’ve cracked a joke about his condition, then tried to find a way out.

Far behind him was the man who’d had any hope of getting off this mountain top.

Grian hardly felt anything anymore. Nothing but the despair and hopelessness of his situation.

No-one was coming for him, he knew. If he couldn’t get down, how would anyone hope to get up?

Limbs frozen. Wings a burden. All alone.

Grian let out a choked sob…

…before being consumed by the ice and snow yet again.

 ***

 All things considered, Xisuma’s situation had improved considerably since things had begun, though that wasn’t saying much.

He was still stuck in the depths of the Overworld, for example, devoid of any sunlight.

But compared to being hunted through dark, shulker infested caverns by a Warden, a lush cave was a pleasant step up. He tried not to think about the jagged tunnels that lay behind him, hewn by his fists and stained with his blood and tears.

He was no longer alone.

Axolotls aside, Jevin was here.

Or rather, he was mostly here.

Their reunion had shown Xisuma – to his dismay – that one of his worst fears for the situation had come to pass. With his non-access to world commands, certain… traits were reasserting themselves.

The moment Jevin had laid eyes on Xisuma – emerging from the dark of his tunnel – he’d seemed so happy…

…and then Jevin had killed him.

The dying memory of Jevin’s horrified features as the revelation of what he’d done on instinct set in was burned into X’s memory. When he’d next returned, he’d assured a terrified Jevin that he didn’t blame him, but the slime man was slipping, and both of them knew it.

The fact that he occasionally split into smaller versions of himself was tame by comparison – relatively easy to recover from given enough time – but it was still taking a psychological toll. Every time Jevin pulled himself together again, he seemed more frantic, more desperate.

And more than that, there seemed to be less of him.

He’d only forgotten small things so far, but it was clear that his sapience was leaking out without command lines to reinforce it.

And, Xisuma feared, if this was happening to Jevin, what of the others? Doc, Cleo…

It galvanised Xisuma into pushing to get to the surface, but his fear never once abated.

As admin he was supposed to prevent things like this, and yet here he was. As helpless as anyone else…

 ***

 Ex had seen nothing but bedrock as far as the red, oppressive fog would allow him for the past few weeks.

He… had no context for this.

The self-proclaimed “Evil” Xisuma had been trapped in many places – some more pleasant than others – but the roof of the Nether was a first. It didn’t seem as if it would be especially effective.

Which meant this was either his brother’s idea of a joke, or something was very, very wrong.

When the avalanche of death messages had come in, his suspicions had been confirmed as to the latter.

…but there wasn’t much to be done.

Aside from starve to death over and over again, at least.

Bedrock was unbreakable here, even for him. Even with the sudden and brief apparition of the one called Etho to give some much-needed context, he had little to work with here.

For the first time in a long time, Ex felt genuinely helpless.

 ***

 On a faraway coastline, two young women sat nestled around a fire, resting for the night. They had already plotted out the route they would take tomorrow, mostly as they’d already walked it once before, so had little to discuss.

Not when both were physically and emotionally exhausted.

On one side of the flames, False lay back against the body of her resting horse, muscles aching from days of saddle-less travel back to the coastline. Her eyelids flickered; the warrior barely able to stay awake.

She forced herself to remain in the waking world, however. Opposite her, Stress sat calmly, less energetic than she normally was. Though she’d mostly recovered from shock, she still shivered now and then. Her smiles and laughter didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she kept making nervous glances out to the coral reefs set just off from the shore.

Their spawnpoint.

It hadn’t been so bad the first time. They’d been mostly focused on getting each other out, and then on the apparent calamity that had befallen the server. What were a couple of glitch induced deaths alongside all of that?

It had taken several weeks of exploration and watching Stress freeze to death falling into a bluff of powdered snow for the true horror of the constant death messages in chat to feel real.

Stress had been trapped in bindings of coral for days – drowning over and over again – before False had made it back to rescue her.

Even hours later, by the warmth of a fire, False was still shaken. They both were.

She feared that if she closed her eyes for too long, she’d open them to find her friend had disappeared.

They’d recover, she knew this. False considered herself strong, and despite the flower girl not having as refined a prowess in combat, Stress was even stronger. She’d endured days of that torture and hadn’t crumbled in her hope, after all. But that taste of what Impulse may have been experiencing – not to forget Cleo or Grian – had unsettled them both.

And if False felt like this, she couldn’t imagine what was going through Stress’ head.

The brunette caught her frowning across the campfire, and gave her another smile, a repeated insistence that she was fine. That she wasn’t going anywhere.

False wished she could believe it, in such uncertain times.

Time and time again, she had faced down monsters and players alike. She’d done it without fear, too, pushing on without hesitation.

But False Symmetry wasn’t so proud she’d deny the truth.

Right now, she was scared.

 ***

 The torture hadn’t ended when the villagers called off their iron golem in killing her repeatedly. For Cleo, it had merely brought another problem into the light.

She was slipping.

She’d noticed it the moment the golem had stood down, and despite her battered and broken form, she’d managed to gaze at one of her attackers. The one who’d told their mechanical protector stop…

…and a burning, primal hunger momentarily took hold of her thoughts.

She locked herself away, after that, hiding out in a house (or was it a church? She’d been so panicked she hadn’t stopped to check), where the temptation wouldn’t sit there, right in front of her nose, taunting her with its… its brains…

…brains…

No!

Cleo whimpered in her darkened hiding place. Out of view of the sun, her eyes flickered with a red glare, seeming hollow and sunken.

She couldn’t go on like this.

X, please… Do something…

But nobody heard.

 ***

 Hell. Literal hell.

Keralis had thought – hoped – that a Nether fortress would be where he’d find the others. With regen a thing of the past, they’d need to gather materials for potions… right?

At least, it had seemed logical at the time.

And yet here Keralis was. A free spirit who had raised entire cities from nothing with nothing but his own determination… hiding in a closed off corridor, behind a cobble wall, a screaming horde of blazes and wither skeletons bearing down on the other side. Already, his clothing was singed, and scratches and cuts riddled his form. He hadn’t gotten to where he was cleanly.

There hadn’t even been a portal to fuel his escape.

It was enough to make even the most fearless of players turn pale.

He couldn’t go back to nothing again. He just couldn’t. He might never find his way back here.

He might never find anyone.

…

If Falsie were here, she’d cut right through them. No problemo.

And if it were Shishwammy, he’d…

Well, Keralis supposed, if Shishwammy did have access to his powers, this wouldn’t be happening in the first place.

So here he was, alone and afraid, having spent days – or what he assumed were days – trapped behind this wall, the forces on the other side never tiring or relenting.

As he had been since this all started, Keralis remained utterly terrified.

 ***

 (Was going to write more entries for all the other Hermits known to be trapped in this AU, which I think within the timeframe here would at least be Joe and Beef at spawn, Hypno either at or near spawn as well, Python in a Nether bastion, Wels and Hels also in the Nether, Tango and Zed in the jungle, Jessassin in a mesa somewhere, and Impulse – who I was going to close with – in his ocean temple of hell. My creativity’s run dry for the time being, though, so this will do just fine. I’ve got an infographic to work on, after all. :P

Hope you enjoyed! :D)