#funny eldritch idiots ah

[windlion]

Malevolent Podcast screamalong, part 3!

Yes let's just ambush this eldritch hit man while he's naked out of the shower.

John you are not the best at narrating through fight scenes how is he supposed to move based on this?!

"No time for panic attacks, keep moving. BTW you're covered in blood" "Not. Helping."

Lovely. Okay so not so much hitman as rank and file who is really shit at shaving?

I kinda thought that was where this was going but euuugh. You could at least hop in the shower first!

So you guys just crashed the convention without even knowing how many people were in there?

John for an eldritch entity you are not respecting the possibility of other eldritch forces very well. You are not alone, buddy

*Pauses and walks away from Cult Lie Detector Test* because ohhh this is a BAD IDEA

It is kind of funny to hear John sweat audibly

This is just the worst plan imaginable! You have no plan!

Read ahead, read ahead! GET THE SPOILERS

John, surprisingly devoted to the thought of Free Will and Non Determinism!

"It sounds like . . ." confused bears!

Oh is it a really big snuffles?! Having cultist for lunch?

OH TIME FOR SHELOB :D

"You're Not Helping!"

This is a super Goth Shelob, huh

Slip'n'slide number two! Clearly they make the best decisions

Heartwarming talks with the eldritch bestie

Arthur this is not the first time you've arbitrarily chose left, the sinister direction. I am not sure this bodes well for you~

"Hungry for flesh" absolutely a great place to go, great vacation destination!

"Pain, madness, and sufferin'" GREAT cult sales pitch

Ah I see where this is going

Down, apparently! What's with these cultists and caves, man

it is interesting that they're splitting the difference on the sanity-bending, that Arthur is insulated from the trippy visual bullshit

Why are you guys so inconsistent and decidedly not genre-savvy?!

"I'm happy to be paranoid" as you just were a dick and called the other paranoid and refused to listen

You goddamn idiots how were you NOT expecting this

*cringe* Parasites, I hate parasites.

And hey finally a change of clothes even though I would definitely not call that swim an improvement on hygiene

Large yellow egg from the King in Yellow that's not ominous at all

Mmm my social anxiety says NOTHING good can come of this

My social anxiety is often right.

WELL THEN That's a Development

That would definitely explain why the cultists were in close orbit

All right so we need to start laying bets on Arthur's missing daughter being the second girl that was at the summoning ritual for the Black Goat that went to shit. (if there is indeed a missing daughter) I thought the second girl was the sister-of-the-screaming-head but Sister Screamer would probably have a different patron than Sr Amarillo

And that's enough to chew on for tonight XD Next time: ep 13, couples therapy!

[bisexualkramer]

Something New (Day 5: Wedding/Proposal)

(read on ao3) (for @tmafemslashweek)

 Basira had found herself a nice spot in the corner after dinner, and was eagerly waiting for Melanie and Georgie to get on with dancing already, when Daisy found her.

             “Best seat in the house,” she said, by way of greeting. Basira nodded.

             “I still can’t believe they managed to get The Mechanisms for the wedding band,” Basira grumbled, fuming. “I thought they broke up years ago. Wonder if they’re fans.”

             Daisy glanced at her, confused. “What?”

             Basira nodded towards the musicians, who were slightly hidden behind a huge flower arrangement that had, only an hour earlier, sent Daisy into a sneezing fit that had lasted nearly ten minutes. She’d had to disappear to take her allergy medication, which meant that she definitely wasn’t supposed to be drinking the glass of whiskey she was currently putting to her lips. Basira decided not to press the issue.

             “The Mechanisms,” she said. “I know I made you listen to some of their stuff, back when we got together. They broke up years ago. I never got to see them live. Glad I will now, I guess, if they aren’t just playing covers. I wonder if they were fans of What the Ghost, or Ghost Hunt UK, or something.”

             Daisy was giving her an odd look, the same one that she had given Basira when she, stumblingly, had asked Daisy on their first date, and Daisy had replied that they’d already had four.

             “’Sira,” she said, “can you tell me where Jon is?”

             Basira frowned, then glanced over the sea of friends and relatives that had gathered in the small dining room for the reception. Skimming over their heads, she finally located Martin, engaged in conversation with four older women – aunts, at a guess. “Found him,” she said, and then paused, glancing around Martin’s shoulder-level and not finding any grumpy eldritch horrors hovering around him. “Wait, no,” she said, searching more thoroughly through the throngs of well-wishers and elderly relatives. “Where is he?”

             “Basira,” Daisy started, but Basira wasn’t listening.

             “Shit,” she said. “I can’t find him.”

             “’Sira –”

             “Where is he?”

             “Basira –”

             “If he’s taking a statement on Melanie and Georgie’s wedding night, I’m going to strangle him –”

             “Basira,” said, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of her panic. “Look at the band.”

             “What?” Basira asked, turning her head. “I don’t –”

             She paused. It was impossible. It was horrible. It was too terrible to even consider. But no – there, standing at the microphone, was Jonathan Sims, lead singer of The Mechanisms.

             “Oh, god,” she said, and Daisy snorted.

             “I can’t believe you didn’t know.”

             “All this time, and it was him?”

             “If you were such a big fan, how did you not know the lead singer’s name?”

             “I listened to them in the archives all the time,” Basira said, “and he never said a thing!”

             Daisy offered Basira her whiskey. She drained the rest of it in one go.

             “Oh, look,” Daisy said, gesturing toward the crowd. “Martin’s coming. D’you think he knew?”

             “Do I think he knew that his boyfriend was the lead singer of my favorite band?” Basira hissed.

             Daisy’s smirk did nothing to help Basira’s rising anger. Martin’s kind and open smile, when he arrived, made it worse.

             “Hi,” he said, a bit breathless. “I’ve just escaped. They were asking me if I was married.”

             “What did you tell them?” Daisy asked.

             “Said I was a pouf, then panicked and ran over here. Why?”

             “It’s a gay wedding, Martin,” Daisy said. “I don’t think they’d freak out about that.”

             “Yeah, but I didn’t want them to ask when I was going to propose. Old women freak me out. What’s wrong with Basira?”

             Basira, who had been glaring at Jon for the entirety of Daisy and Martin’s conversation, huffed.

             “She’s upset that Jon is the lead singer of her favorite band and didn’t tell her.”

             “Ah,” he said. He gave Basira an apologetic smile. She pinched his arm. He squealed, but then he laughed and turned back to the band.

             As he did so, Jon stepped up to the microphone.

             “Hello, everyone,” he said, his face a bright red. Martin clapped, and Daisy wolf-whistled. He shot them both a glare. “If I could have your attention,” he said, “it’s time for the first dance.”

             Melanie and Georgie swept towards the center of the floor. Melanie handed her cane to her mother, then allowed herself to be led to the center of the dance floor. When they’d stopped, she bowed deeply to Georgie, pulling off her rather ridiculous top hat and sweeping it in an arc away from her. When she stood, Georgie stole the hat and put it on her own head. The two of them held each other firmly as the music began to play.

             “Really a beautiful wedding,” Daisy muttered.

             “It is, isn’t it,” Martin said, his voice breaking. Basira reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue.

             “Spectacular,” she said. “Does anyone know where I could get another drink?”

 …

               The middle of the dance floor was hot and loud. Jon and the band had played for about an hour before Georgie had started her “Ultimate Sapphic Wedding Playlist” and grabbed Jon by the waist for a dance. Daisy had wandered off somewhere, leaving Basira and Melanie dancing together in the corner. Melanie had lost her hat and her bow tie, somewhere along the way, and was now sporting Georgie’s veil in addition to the ostentatious blindfold she had insisted on wearing to the wedding.

             “Did you really have to have your first dance to ‘No-Eyed Girl?’” Basira asked.

             Melanie shrugged. “It’s funny,” she shouted over what Basira thought might be a One Direction song. Melanie frowned. “This playlist sort of got away from us, eh?”

             “It’s your first dance.”

             “We had Jon do it all acoustic-y and slow! Isn’t that enough?”

             “I guess,” Basira said. “Fuck, it’s hot in here.”

             “I know,” said Melanie. “I’m thinking of taking the jacket off, but I don’t want to stop dancing.”

             “You look very dashing,” said Basira. “Very dapper.”

             “Thanks,” said Melanie, attempting a sort of modified Charlie Brown that nearly sent her tumbling into one of Georgie’s friends from college. “I wanted to look like one of those vintage lesbians, you know? Didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

             “You literally married a woman today, Melanie.”

             Melanie beamed. “I did, didn’t I? Where is she?”

             Basira craned her neck around an old man who was waving his arms around in a way that was, quite frankly, alarming. “I think she’s – no, wait – yeah, she’s doing the thing from Dirty Dancing.”

             “Aw, bless,” said Melanie. “I demand you take me to her!”

             “Demand?”

             “It’s my wedding, and I’m a bride, so I have the authority.”

             Basira rolled her eyes. “Right,” she said, and gripped Melanie’s arm, pulling her through the throngs of people to get to Georgie. As soon as Georgie noticed their approach, she flung her hands into the air, which was unfortunate, as she had been in the middle of dipping Jon. He landed squarely on his ass with an undignified yelp.

             “Melanie!” Georgie yelled.

             “That’s my wife!” Melanie yelled back, directly into Basira’s ear.

             “I know,” said Basira.

             “I love my wife!” Melanie shouted.

             “I think I got that,” said Basira.

             Basira released Melanie into Georgie’s arm and offered her assistance to Jon. He glared at Georgie.

             “Ow,” he moaned.

             Basira punched him in the arm.

             “Hey!” he shouted. “What the hell was that for?”

             “You didn’t tell me you were the lead singer for the Mechanisms, even though you specifically knew they were my favorite band, you absolute arsing –”

             “All right, all right, I’m sorry!” he said, dodging her subsequent swats. “I thought you knew!”

             “How on Earth would I have known that, Jonathan Sims, you complete –”

             “Hey,” said Martin, appearing at Basira’s shoulder. “Sorry, but can I please borrow my boyfriend? You can have him back if you want to abuse him later.”

             “Oi!”

             Basira sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Go be gross and gay somewhere else.”

             “Speaking of,” said Martin, grabbing Jon’s hand, “I think Daisy’s looking for you.”

             “Oh, thank God,” said Basira as Melanie and Georgie reappeared in her vision, trying to waltz to “Mama” by My Chemical Romance, which had just begun playing, and failing miserably. “I need to talk to someone normal.”

             Martin laughed. “She’s by the bar, I think,” he said, even as Jon began to tug him down and kiss him repeatedly on the cheek.

             Basira glanced at Jon. “You’re gross,” she said. He flipped her the bird.

             Daisy was, in fact, by the bar, having a weird half-conversation with the bartender, a young man who looked like he might be one of Georgie’s cousins. When she spotted Basira, she hopped up from her stool and gave the man a halfhearted salute. He sputtered something as a goodbye before being pulled away by a nice old lady who was wondering if he didn’t have anything stronger than wine, deary, and Basira and Daisy were left to themselves.

             “Our friends are idiots,” said Basira.

             Daisy laughed. “D’you want to dance?”

             “Oh god,” said Basira, but she let herself be pulled back to the dance floor.

 …

               “Last slow song of the night!” Georgie yelled into the abandoned microphone. “And then it’s just ‘Don’t Stop Believing,’ and then you all have to leave so Melanie and I can go and have sex!”

             The few friends and younger family members who remained cheered. Melanie’s grandmother wolf-whistled; Georgie’s cousin at the bar looked incredibly uncomfortable.

             The first few notes of a slow do-wop song began to play. Basira placed one hand on the small of Daisy’s back and pulled her close. Daisy leaned her head against Basira’s chest as the two of them began to sway.

             “I really love you, you know,” Daisy mumbled.

             Basira pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. “I love you, too,” she said. She squeezed Daisy’s hand. “Always will.”

             “I know,” said Daisy. “I keep asking myself how I got so lucky.”

             “Easy,” said Basira. “It was your incredible, incredible ass.”

             Daisy snorted. “Thanks.”

             “I just saw it, and it was like a black hole. I couldn’t escape.”

             “You’re very kind.”

             “I’m serious. I thought, ‘Oh my God, she’s got such a good ass. I can’t believe I’m going to sleep with her.’ And then I did.”

             Daisy pulled back and fixed Basira with a skeptical glare. Basira winked. Daisy pulled her down for a kiss. Her lips were soft and a bit dry, same as they always were, and she tasted of whiskey and wedding cake. When they parted, Daisy stroked her cheek.

             “Not to mention,” said Basira, “you’ve got abs for days.”

             “Sap,” said Daisy.

             “Yeah,” said Basira. She pulled Daisy back to her chest, and the two of them swayed together to the music. “Yeah, I reckon I am.”

[volbeast]

Power of Persuasion (Part 1)

(First fic in 2000 years hell yeah son >:3c b lease forgive if it’s horribly written |D)

It’s also posted on my blog page here qwq

Thanks to @erujayy for beta-reading! ;o;

Summary: Black Hat is a busy man…demon…thing and requires Flug’s assistance to meet with a few clients on his behalf. Unfortunately, Flug doesn’t have the… persuasive eldritch abilities of his boss. Black Hat remedies this… temporarily.

[Caution: Fic contains descriptions of gore/body horror]

Flug looked across the large mahogany desk at the shadowed figure of his boss. His back was turned to the scientist as he adjusted the sleeves of his dress shirt and began tying his tie; a halo of red light filtering around him through the tinted window.

He might’ve thought it looked pretty cool had he not been shaking in anxiety at this very moment, absolutely terrified of what his boss just asked of him.

This was insane! Black Hat couldn’t be serious, Flug barely left the lab, let alone the mansion! And what’s worse, he expected the scrawny scientist to meet with some of the world’s most terrifying villains? No way. He can’t even talk to his own boss without stuttering! And now was no exception.

“Sir, please! I-I can’t sell to those…those types of people…they’ll laugh! And kick me out! Or-or worse!” He didn’t want to think too hard about the ‘or worse’ part, his anxiety would remind him of those things later.

“If you don’t, you’ll have me to worry about!” The top-hatted demon hissed, “Now quit your sniveling and go find more presentable attire. You can’t go out in those awful lab clothes while you’re representing my glorious self~!” The demon finished with his tie and cackled like he’d said something funny. Flug didn’t find it quite as amusing. He was petrified at the thought.

He had to find a way to swing this as a disadvantage to Black Hat, it’s the only way he’d let him off the hook…

“S-sir, what if they kidnap me? Or k-kill me? Surely you need me here, making weapons for you! For the company!” Flug could think of no greater cost to his boss than the loss of weapons production and profit. Thankfully they were tied to his ability to be working. And alive.

Black Hat stopped fiddling with his cufflinks and stood rigid. Flug swallowed loudly but continued at risk of facing his boss’ own wrath, “Be-Besides…they will check me for weapons, I won’t be able to fight back should something…happen…” He trailed off quietly, knowing full well Black Hat was debating the most painful non-lethal torture method with which to punish him for insubordination.

The response Flug got was surprising, to say the least.

“Fine.”

“Th-thank you sir! I-”

Flug’s relief was cut off by his boss turning around with an absolutely devilish look on his face. One look at that broad toothy grin told Flug he was in for something very very bad. He shook in place as Black Hat skirted the side of the desk toward him.

“You’re right~ In this state, you’re far too…squishy. Easily broken. Not to worry… I can fix that.” The demon purred. He snatched Flug’s hand, earning a squeak from the scientist, and began rolling up his own sleeve. Underneath Flug saw the skin turn pink and fleshy, and -oh god- something roiling and writhing beneath his boss’ skin. His heart pounded and he instinctively tried to pull away from Black Hat’s grip.

“Quit struggling you idiot!” Black Hat snapped, yanking Flug back toward what he knew was quickly becoming a nightmare. A thin tendril of flesh burst from the arm holding him, and then another…and another. Oh god, Flug hated this portion of Black Hat’s physiology. A simple tooth filled mouth formed on the largest protrusion, seeming to smile in anticipation, and detached from its host, slithering onto Flug’s arm.

The scientist shut his eyes, feeling queasy and waited for the pain. When nothing happened immediately, he cracked one eye open…

…Just in time to see the thing slice through his glove and burrow into his flesh.

With a gargled cry of pain, Flug scrambled backward, Black Hat releasing his grip and allowing the paper-bagged lackey to fall flat on his back. Blood began to pool inside his long glove as Flug lay slightly dazed, he focus on the strange sensation forming inside his body. It was like he could feel…whatever the hell his boss spawned, slithering down his arm to his core, before it branched out and began sliding tendrils throughout his whole body.

He was going to be sick. The doctor squirmed wildly as a myriad of sensations began overloading his body. Most of which were pain as the…parasite took hold of his nervous system, and then what felt like his entire form.

Breathing heavily as the pain dulled slowly, he mustered enough will to rip off his glove -despite the stinging still in the entry wound- to see what the damage was. The quarter-sized hole in his arm oozed blood and…some kind of black substance.

Flug glanced up at Black Hat, his boss was smiling smugly, enjoying Flug’s pained writhing on the floor. When he returned his goggled eyes to his wound, he realized he was both looking down and up at himself.

Wait…what?

An eye, grown from the affected area on his arm, had added to his field of vision. He shrieked out of surprise and watched the eye disappear back into his skin, knitting his wound back together completely, like nothing had happened.

“What…what did you do to me?” He managed, still focused on his blood-soaked -yet completely fine- arm. He pressed a thumb to the area. No pain whatsoever.

“Congratulations! You’ve been granted some of my glorious abilities~” The sharply dressed creature admired his claws, “it should last you through all the clients I have lined up for you to meet.” He cackled, before turning a serious eye to Flug, “And of course you know, this gracious gift of mine should not be used to turn against me. Right, Doctor?” Flug noted the flex of his claws added emphasis to the statement.

“Of-of course Sir! I would never-”

“Good, now go get ready, I’m sending for a limo to pick you and the client up in 30 minutes.” He turned away again and strode to the wardrobe, grabbing his favorite long dress coat. Flug was just about to scurry out the door when Black Hat stopped him once more, “Oh, and Flug?”

“Yes…Sir?”

“I expect all our potential clients buy something. Today. Now that you have the means to…loosen their pocketbooks.” Flug nodded even though he filled further with dread, and practically ran out of Black Hat’s office. His fear agitated the thing inside him, he could’ve vomited at the pulsing sensation it created, connected to every cell in his body it seemed.

He’d have wanted to analyze it further if he had time. Or the will. Honestly, he would’ve chalked this one up to the black magic his boss was capable of wielding had it not been for the fact it seemed to be interfering with his own biology. Instead, he opted to make a beeline straight for his room, after all, he was under a time constraint.

Flug assumed by ‘more presentable’ his boss wanted no less than formal dress, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Black Hat has an affinity for gala attire. He sifted through his closet to find all the fixings; old vest, dress pants and a long sleeved button down shirt.

He undressed in silence, becoming more and more aware of the crawling under his skin as he exposed it, first his lab coat and favorite plane themed t-shirt. Flug was about to remove his only remaining glove when a sharp tingling erupted in his hand. Moments later, black claws burst through the fingertips.

Well…that was one pair of gloves ruined.

Fancy how Black Hat gives him hell powers and neglects to teach him how to use them. However, the being inside him seemed to move in tandem with the doctor’s will at least, and after a few moments of hard thought, he got the claws to recede back from where they came. Musing momentarily how strange it was that he felt no pain in either action. It was no doubt the handiwork of the eldritch entity taking up residence inside him.

Finishing the task at hand, Flug gave himself a quick glance in the mirror. Not too bad, though he wished fervently he could wear his prized flight jacket for comfort on this endeavor. It might’ve helped ease the anxiety that was already coming in waves as he exited his own personal corner of hell.

Black Hat waited on the front porch, surveying the suburban surrounding to his mansion. He laughed to himself about what Flug could only imagine being a plot to burn the happy neighborhood to the ground.

“There you are, you’re late,” the demon finally noticed him. Flug knew full well he’d gotten here in record time, but dared not argue with his boss. “No matter~ how are you enjoying the feeling of ultimate power hmmm doctor?”

It felt like violent to severe nausea. “Oh, um, great sir.” Obviously, Black Hat would neither know nor care how Flug felt about it. This was his biology trying desperately to mesh with tentacle demon biology, of course things weren’t going to work 100%.

“Good, good~ Ah! There’s your ride,” Black Hat was darkly giddy, a frightening combination if you knew him, “Don’t forget, sell…or else~” His visible eye glowed as he grinned.

Flug couldn’t possibly forget.

The young scientist opened up the monogrammed gate and stepped out. He glanced over his shoulder at the manor. His boss had vanished. No doubt gone the way of the shadows to meet with the other half of the clients on his agenda.

The sun was just setting, casting the manor in complete silhouette, a looming threat to the entire city. Hard to believe he worked there. The scrawny and still paper-bag clad Flug approached the limo, the driver, in grim attire opened the door for him. This was no doubt a confidential villain-only type service, all the better to conduct dastardly business under the cover of night.

He sat down and the driver closed the door behind him. He shook as it became final, he was going to have to persuade multiple clients to buy from him. He couldn’t even persuade himself out of a paper bag! All this just amplified his anxiety as he waited for yet more eldritch style formations to spring from his body in response to his nervousness.

One way or another…this was going to be an interesting night.