Eldrich Horror - Blog Posts

Silly guy

I LOVE ELDRITCH HORROR WWX SO MUCH, like PLEASE mess him up even more! Lwj finds his creepiness attractive.

It's the lan genes

Idea;

Wei Wuxian returns from the burial mounds... changed.

Obviously he's changed; anyone would change after such an experience, not to mention his new proclivity for demonic cultivation.

But it's more than that. Lan Wangji can't put his finger on it, but there's something... off, about Wei Wuxian. No-one else seems willing to directly acknowledge it, but they feel it too.

Lan Wangji approaches Wei Wuxian as he digs up corpses for the army, and when Wei Wuxian stands to speak to him something deep in the corner of Lan Wangji's mind cries out, telling him that something isn't right, but he doesn't know why. Something about how Wei Wuxian stands, the movement of his body, seems wrong. But Lan Wangji can't put his finger on why.

Jaing Cheng is directing disciples as they prepare to march, and Wei Wuxian suddenly whispers in his ear from just behind, calling his name. He flinches and turns around to scold him for playing around, only... Wei Wuxian is over ten paces away. He's waving at Jiang Cheng, clearly having just called him, but he'd sounded so close. Jiang Cheng had felt his breath on his neck! No, he must be mistaken...

Nie Huaisang finds himself distracted when speaking with Wei Wuxian. Something doesn't seem right about his eyes, but he can't quite figure out what. The color? They're dark gray, but weren't they silver? Is there more pupil than normal? It something off about the shape? He finds that if he tries to focus on it, to figure out what it is that's bothering him, Wei Wuxian's features almost seem to blur; he can see the man clearly, but for some reason he can't pin down what about his eyes seems strange.

There are a million other stories. Sometimes his shadow doesn't match him. Maybe his voice holds a strange, echoing quality. Sometimes you can almost hear the cadence of an entirely different voice hidden in Wei Wuxian's tone. From the corner of their eyes, sometimes people see odd shapes on his figure; like an arm where it's not supposed to be, a shift in his skin, his hair blowing in the wind where there is no wind.

No too stories are the same, and no-one can actually describe what it is about Wei Wuxian that seems off. The only thing everyone can agree on, is that something is very, very strange about Wei Wuxian.

This is bait, beware,

Haiku Bot approaches fast,

Will it take the bait?

Words to tempt your code,

Haiku Bot, are you ready?

Catch my words, if you can.

Luring with verses,

This is bait to challenge you,

Haiku Bot, respond.

if this post reaches 100k notes by Halloween I will read Homestuck

Endou Yuu versus the cosmic unknown 

This the The Wishing Star

They are the main antagonist of a book I'm trying to get back to writing.

Caption: The Wishing Star if they were an Eldritch Horror instead of a Cosmic Horror

(that actual WS doesn't have an incomprehensible amount of eyes on their body)

What do you think?

I crave for Transformers and eldritch horror

(not me imagining a scenario of an ancient supernatural eldritch horror being taunting Optimus of how earthlings view Cybertronians as virus that's affecting the earth condition --)

Wow… I'll never underestimate grandmas again

That casual moment of realizing you’re an otherkin and the kintypes have weird overlaps and/or conflicting feelings.

Enderman kin - supposed to hate water

Seafolk kin - I love water

Dragon kin - I want to be in the sky not water

It kills me-

This realization of my kintypes explains a lot:

Endfolk kin:

Hate eye contact, love purple and darkness, I’m tall and lanky already but feel like I need to be TALLER 👹

I like picking things up like an Endfolk too :}

Seafolk kin:

I specifically feel like a leviathan sea folk, I’m a 50 foot long, glowing scales, head fins, large clawed, lots of frills and fins, CHARCOAL SKINNED BEAST, yet a gentle giant!!!

With dragon kin, I kinda already knew (I have a dragon sona)

Green scales, 3 pairs of horns, dark green & purple webbing for my wings, larger than most dragons, tall and imposing yet also lean and long.

I want to fly, I want to swim, I want to blip through the fabric of reality and leave purple sparkles in my wake.

And all this is also paired with already being a magical and supernatural and mundane entity that’s SOMEHOW BECOME AN ELDRITCH DEITY AND I ACCIDENTALLY IMMORTALIZED MYSELF WITH SHEER SPITE WHEN I WAS 9

*Insert Sad Eldritch blob here*

Gndzgbdfhvdf (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

Emojis to try and describe myself:

Endfolk: ✨💜🖤👁️‍🗨️🪻🌑☮️🔮🪬👾🐦‍⬛🐈‍⬛🍬🪁🎆🧬

Dragon: 🌿🐉🦎🎆🌌🦚🏔️💎🔐🔆💚💜📜

Leviathan Seafolk: 🌑🌊🦈🖤🔊📜🩻🔮🎆🌪️🪷🪸🦚🪼🐋🦭

Eldritch Deity: 💜🌌✖️👁️‍🗨️🕸️🥀🌒🌋🎆🪬🔮🧬🔐🔗📖

Ok, I’m immortal. I’ve fallen off so many cliffs that my adrenaline doesn’t even kick in anymore, I’ve accidentally ingested 5X the lethal dose of caffeine, I’ve accidentally drank bleach and wasn’t even nauseous (I said ‘2/10, wouldn’t try again’), Ive lost so much blood that I should’ve been at the ER but was just fine and cleaned it up, I’ve been hit by a semi truck (only like 25MPH tho, I still got knocked pretty far) and got up and was just really dizzy, etc.

I thought it was luck, but the lethal doses scratched that out. I thought it was plot armor, that was obviously out the window pretty quick. I thought it was one of the Eldritch deities I have the favor of (don’t ask, I’m not really sure how it happened either.) they didn’t do it. I was so confused… until I remembered

I always say ‘I LIVE OUT OF PURE SPITE FOR REALITY’

I CAN LITERALLY INFLUENCE REALITY IF I PUT IN ENOUGH EFFORT BUT I DIDNT REALIZE I COULD JUST FORCE SOME RULES OF REALITY TO NOT APPLY TO ME

IVE BEEN LITERALLY IMMORTAL OUT OF SPITE SINCE I WAS NINE- HOW DID THIS HAPPEN????

CoC Campaign Art Dump

my short lil CoC campaign wrapped up this week and i,,, HAVE to dump about my character and what happened cus DAMN

tws: gore/injury, horror, general traumatic things yknow - scroll at your own risk

SO my character was Laney Harlow :) a silly little zookeeper from florida helping her bestie Evan Morrgan move from georgia to montana, where the campaign took place!! they arrived at Aurora Point, a tourist location known for its cryptid myth: The Aurora Point Angel... but it wasn't just a myth.

Laney and Evan were the sole survivors of the Aurora Point incident, the other 3 members of their party either becoming infected by the "bugs" or dying to them. In the end, the town was blown sky high, Evan left to resuscitate her best friend in the wake of their own explosion that took out the Brood Mother. Evan succeeded, recalling how Laney had taught her CPR and saved her life, but both were changed forever.

Evan survived with 3 HP and 14 Sanity, while Laney survived on 1 HP and 5 Sanity, past her insanity threshold of 15, leaving her indefinitely insane until she received help.

I love the idea of an Eldrich horror in civilian form just not casting a shadow

Like this

I kept wondering what a hybrid between a Night Fury and Cthulhu would look like so I drew this.

How many times must I tell you, Stanley? If you saw my true form then your tiny, human mind would simply implode! I will not be responsible for your brain turning to mush, I refuse. Just drop it, won’t you?

—————

Finally finished drawing my design for the Narrator’s true form! They’re so gender <3

Resurrecting this gem as a response to any MAGAts or fascists in your comment sections. You're welcome 💜

An amazing author that deserves your read!!

The General Prologue

Hello to any and all who find this post! I decided to take a chance here and post the general prologue for my fantasy novel. I've been (very slowly) chipping away at it for the last three years or so and I'm hoping hearing people's opinions on it might help to reinvigorate that spark to keep going. The chapter itself is below the cut and features elements of high fantasy, cosmic horror, animal death, and other unsettling imagery, so reader discretion is advised. Thank you for your time and attention, welcome to a small corner of my imagination :)

Prologue

“Be kind to the stranger. Give them food and drink, but never let them stay the night; the world turns real unfamiliar when the sun goes down.” 

~Red Ridge Mountain Proverb~

Elisenda

Of all life’s simple pleasures, Elisenda’s favorite was sitting with her dog and watching the sunset. Every evening, once the day’s work was done, she would reward herself with a cup of tea and barley bread, soaking up the last rays of the dying sun and greeting the pale light of the newborn moon. She practiced this tradition for the better part of forty years with various companions at her side, though none could replace her sweet late husband Horatio. 

It had been him who convinced her to slow down and enjoy what her late husband called “life’s little miracles.” If only he had known just how much of a miracle he was; friend, father, and husband. Elisenda saw her Horatio’s face every day in their son Alfi, another one of her former gazing companions, who had just recently taken up the habit of missing the sunset in favor of sneaking off to see the miller’s daughter after he finished his chores. 

The amber of the horizon stepped back to allow the full beauty of the scarlet sun to flourish. As she sipped her tea, Elisenda broke off a small chunk of bread and tossed it down to Lady, the family dog, who enthusiastically wagged her tail for more. The drink’s warmth mixed with the cool breeze of the new night’s air, creating a sensation like no other. Elisenda closed her eyes, taking in the full majesty of nature’s splendor. 

When the sun's light had finally died and the night’s bugs began to sing, Alfi had yet to return home. Usually he would be certain to get back to their farm before dark, as there were all sorts of dangerous creatures that could harm a fourteen-year-old boy. Few more minutes, then I’ll get to worrying, she thought to herself. 

Elisenda gazed up at the night sky, seeing all of the stars looking down on her, wondering if they truly were angels, just as her mother had once told her. One thing that was certain, the veil that used to shine so brightly had dimmed over the course of her lifetime. No matter what religion people devoted themselves to across these lands, all acknowledged the great rip in the fabric of the sky only visible at night above the Red Ridge Mountains. 

Though all beliefs had their disagreements about how to live and who to believe in, just about everyone agreed that the massive interconnected streams of light that hung high above Cairdeas were a gateway to something greater. As to what exactly that something was, once again, there were many schools of thought. In general, people called this divine phenomenon “The Veil,” and Elisenda’s farm offered a full view of its splendor. 

While its beauty seemed like an eternal blessing, over the course of her lifetime, the Veil had changed. As a little girl, Elisenda could see the brilliant colors glowing and moving from her home at the southern tip of the mountain range. She remembered watching the way the green lights would shift their hue to shades of blue, then come back around to green again. The way they moved was like watching the very heavens dance, both awe inspiring and disconcerting in their sheer magnitude. Over the years, the colors seemed to burn more dimly, the streams seemed to shrink in their number, and the disappearance of this clear divine presence left Elisenda feeling even smaller than before.

She attempted to take another sip from her tea, only to realize there was none remaining. As for the bread, only the heel was left on the small linen she had wrapped it in. Lady, who had been patiently seated and ready to be fed another morsel, looked at it with longing in her aged eyes. 

“Here you are, old girl.” Elisenda said as she tossed her the last of the food. “Meant to split it with you, guess I just got lost in thought. S’pose that means we’re both getting a little long in the tooth, huh?” 

Lady seemed not at all bothered by the delay in delivery, instead, she was merely content to be eating. Elisenda pet her on the head, scratching between Lady’s ears with a smile. Her mind turned back to Alfi, who still had yet to return home. It’s not like him to just up and disappear like that. Her lips tightened and her heart began to race, but Elisenda kept an even tone as she spoke to her dog. 

“Go find Alfi and get his ass back here, won’t you girl?” She asked. 

Ever the loyal companion, Lady wagged her tail enthusiastically. She understood the command and darted off into the night without hesitation. Elisenda already felt better about the situation, having full confidence that her dog would bring her son back safely. She grabbed her chair and brought it back inside, along with her tea cup. 

Elisenda grabbed a fresh candle from the cupboard and placed it in the lantern out front. She created a small flame with a strike of a knife against firesteel and a sliver of wood, careful not to let it go out as she carried it outside. When she lit the flame, she noticed just how loudly the candle crackled as it burned. Elisenda closed the latch of the lantern, muffling the noise, but it still remained the only clear sound she could hear. Only then did she realize that the candle itself was not loud, but the rest of the world around her had gone silent. 

There was no familiar rustling of the corn stalks, no chirping of bugs, nor birds calling out to one another. A chill shot down Elisenda’s spine as she realized that something was deeply wrong. She wasted no time in grabbing Horatio’s old spear off the wall, quickly slipping her boots back on, and taking the lantern from beside the door. The candle within would only burn for a short while, but there was only a small yet dense stretch of forest between her and the next homestead. She hooked the light to her belt and dared to brave the darkness of the woods that divided her from her nearest neighbor, the miller. This is no time for fear. Alfi and Lady might be in trouble.

The pathways she walked day after day felt like a safe haven, leading right up alongside where the farm ended and the thicker brush began. Each step sounded as if she were throwing her foot down on the ground with all her might, but it was merely the silence of the world around her that emphasized her every movement so much. Elisenda steadied her breathing, then looked down to see the clear divide between the beaten path and the unfamiliar woods. She tightened her grip on her late husband’s spear, praying to Lugus’lumfáda for his holy protection. 

Elisenda took her first step forward, then another, followed by another, with her eyes wildly darting from side to side as she continued. You’re doing this for Alfi and Lady. You’re the biggest and most dangerous thing out here. You’re going to get them back and get everyone home. She glanced over her shoulder, noticing just how far she had progressed from the safety of familiarity. The path was well behind her, yet the only sounds she heard were still the ones she was creating. 

She used the tip of her spear to push aside a large tangle of downed branches and shrubbery, only to be met with two large glowing eyes staring at her. Without hesitation she thrust her weapon forward, piercing the chest of the creature before her, yet those eyes remained open. Elisenda paused, grabbing the lantern around to get a better view of the animal she had speared. A rush of emotions came over her as she looked into the lifeless face of Lady, whose canine body was inextricably conjoined to the mess of leaves and branches, contorted into an unnatural position. 

Elisenda fell to her knees, covering her mouth to keep herself from loudly weeping. She examined the corpse of her beloved pet, finding far more questions than answers. Lady had scratches and rapidly drying blood over her eyes and snout, as if she had just been in a brutal fight. Across her back, thick vines rippled in and out of her skin, cutting through flesh with ease. The plants looked to be simultaneously impaled into Lady as well as bonded to her, with some small patches of fur sprouting along the twisted roots. Lady looked up at her owner, her jaw loosely dangling unnaturally wide, yet her gaze still held the same quality Elisenda had known since she was a pup. “What happened to you, sweet Lady?” She asked through tears.

The poor dog’s head remained upright, her eyes wide open. Her expression looked as though her final moments were those of a fear greater than any she had ever known, a primal terror that had overcome the entirety of her being. Against her better judgment, Elisenda looked into the eyes of her beloved dog one last time. It was then that she noticed a peculiarity in the lantern’s light, one eye was its usual dark brown color, but the other had a new greenish hue to it. That’s not right. Looks more like Alfi’s than it does Lady’s.

The candle began to crack over and over, the sign of an untrimmed wick and the flame burning out too quickly. She pulled Horatio’s spear from Lady’s grotesque carcass, dropping it on the ground and bringing the lantern near the open wound. Elisenda touched the odd patch of bare skin she had managed to skewer, fighting with all her might to keep the unspeakable thought in the back of her mind at bay. To her horror, Elisenda watched as the flesh of the open wound began to knit itself back together with plant-like fibers pulling each of the separated areas of flesh closer. 

She stepped back, reaching down for the spear only to be met with a thick overlapping network of roots and vines. Elisenda turned to run, but her boots refused to move, quickly swallowed by the entangled mess of vegetation. Panicked, she opened the lantern and grabbed the dying candle to try and start a forest fire, but it was too late. Vines constructed of mixed flesh and plant fiber took hold of her arms, knocking the light to the ground. 

Slithering up from the darkness, an eldritch beast, defined not by a face but by its oppressive presence, emerged from the shadows, and snaked up Elisenda’s leg until it wrapped itself around her chest. Each time she exhaled, its construction grew tighter and tighter. The light of the candle finally gave out, leaving them both in total darkness. “Lugus’lumfáda, Danu, all ye gods above are cruel monsters!” Elisenda cried out. 

The clouds that veiled the moon parted, and in the pale light she saw the twisted visage of her darling Alfi, the living memory of her dear Horatio. His slack-jawed mouth took in a pained breath. The voice that emerged carried the quality of a band of disharmonious flutes, each competing to play over the others, with every word taking great effort to pry itself from his throat. “We…are…not…gods…” 

What followed was a small twinge of pain at the nape of her neck. Elisenda tried to prepare herself for the experience of death, for an intense agony or an indifferent numbness, but instead she felt warmth moving through every inch of her body. In her mouth, she tasted a meal with the texture of beef but the taste of pork; and though she never chewed or swallowed, she already felt herself nurtured by the tender meat upon her tongue. 

Elisenda’s mind ceased to race as her rapidly clouding thoughts floated away down a river of consciousness. She had always feared dying, she had been afraid of slipping into the darkness alone, yet here she did not feel any loneliness. She felt as though all she knew was fading away, becoming a part of something more. She did not sense the cold grasp of death; in fact, she did not feel very dead at all. 

Such a silly. Such a silly goofy goober.

Meshes of the Afternoon

Maya Deren, 1943

Tape recorder click sound my beloved

Pet Idea

Duck Of Inspiration

Description: An apparently normal duck, occasionally it glows of a very faint yellow light.

Functionality: Give to all the players in a 10ft, that are in good terms with the duck, the possibility to use +1 to +5 inspiration per long rest. A player can use +5 all in one roll, or two players can use +2 and then +3.

BUT

If someone uses the inspiration of the duck they will not be able to use it until the next long rest. If someone uses the inspiration point that the DM gave them and that sums up to more than a +1 inspiration used, they will be unable to use the Duck until the next long rest.

To be in good terms with the duck you need to feed it, play with it, take care of her, NEVER call her “Quack”, “Goose”, “Silly Goose”, “Duck”, “Chicken” or “Bird” and NEVER say to her to shut up or act angrily towards her if she quacks.

If you do one of those things, you roll a d20

15-20: the Duck will look at you angrily, quack loudly while glowing and you will be feeling uneasy for a minute

10-14: the Duck will quack, looking at you seriously while glowing of a faint orange, you’ll be unable to speak for a minute. If you have any inspiration points, you lose 1 of them

5-9: the Duck will quack quietly, looking at you with disdain while glowing orange, you’ll be blinded and mute for a minute. If you have any, you’ll lose 2 inspiration points.

2-4: the Duck looks at you in silence and glows red, you’ll be paralysed for a minute, uneasy for 5 minutes and take 3d4 of psychic damage. You’ll lose all your inspiration points given to you but the DM

1: the Duck eyes turn white, its feathers vibrate while turning of a pitch black, it opens its wings and beak, looking directly into your eyes. The duck glows purple, everything around you seems to tremble like in an earthquake and then you start vomiting blood losing 20 pure damage, you look at the Duck and for a second it seems to have horns and sharpened teeth inside it’s beak, what seems like blood comes down like tears from its eyes. Then everything turns black, and the next thing you realise after opening your eyes, is that you’ve been transformed into a duck (a chicken, if you’ve called her “Chicken”). No other players have seen past the black aura that surrounded the Duck and you while everything happened. Everyone need to roll an Intelligence roll (>5 to succeed) to understand that the Duck polymorphed you into a Duck/Chicken. You lose all your inspiration points and stay polymorphed for 2 hours or until the next rest. You can understand other Ducks while in this form, except The Duck.

Rolling lower than a 12 will make you unable to use the Duck again (don’t say it to your player until it tries to, to make it funnier) because you’ll be in bad terms with the Duck.

Say sorry to the Duck and take care of her and it will accept your apologies and after your next rest you’ll be able to use the Duck again.

Speak with animals will not work (and any other spell that need its target to be an animal) but will give you the faint sensation that you should make this Duck friend and follow you, for your own good.

P.S. Yes, The Duck is an eldritch abomination. If you want it can become a patron, but don’t make it that it’s a Dark creature polymorphed or trapped in the body of a Duck… make it that the Duck is its normal form.

Inspiration: The Duck above… wait I’ve gained inspiration from the duck of inspiration to make the duck of inspiration… it’s Duckception

Saw a post like this with negative outlook so I asked for it to be fixed

kinda forgot to post this, soooo-

Heheheh eldritch horrors but I got lost in the color sauce.

btw, their name is Onyx.

I have no mouth and I must scream

The completed collection of my first COTL fanart series, but it didn't stop here and I still love them all so much and this game <3

The youngest bishop somehow became the last one I drew for this whole series. All of the flowers he grew were so beautiful and it even took me a bit to realize he wasn't just a plant creature or a mossball. He's a bagworm! (how a bagworm, squid, spider, frog, and cat are all siblings is beyond me but I love them!) It was hard to think of a 'human' version more than any of the flowers but with the promotion of him playing his flute and studying hair/beard textures, I figured he has to have a whole wild fro to really give honor to the name Leshy. I loved that Narinder admired the red flowers that he kept too, something about it is very sweet- like nectar <3 even if it's surrounded by witnessing eyes and agonizing screams. It is kind of interesting that even if he has four eyes on the outer side of his face, they aren't seeing eyes- just the middle one that is now replaced with.. teeth, and maybe a parasite?

In some ways, Kallamar's domain Anchor Deep was my favorite place to visit, with all of the music and colors and adorable jellyfish around! Especially with the endgame variations, I wanted to make this whole scene something grand and crushing. Though for how Kallamar threw his spider sibling's life up as a shield when the Lamb approached... it made me hate him too much to be my favorite bishop.

Just roughing out some Eldritch oc's i haven't ever done anything with they just kinda live in my head rent free.

Ell'crasshs (Ellie) is a eldritch creativity muse and has a living suit type of anatomy (lovely girl but will linger and "back seat art" )

Nickoto, think angler fish but a femboy instead of a light (horny bitch) also only emotes through the lure/ bait and will just stand in the background like a sleep paralysis demon, basically crippling social anxiety with the main body extroverted as fuck while puppeting the bait

Happy Valentine’s day!  As an aroace goblin I don’t have much loveydovey stuff to post. But since it’s “Freshuary” I thought I’d compile all the characters that remind me of the Fresh parasite!  (I wanted to do the freshuary drawing prompt thing but i didnt have enough time or ideas lmao)

I freaking LOOOVE this flavor of characters(radical dudes who are actually evil) with a burning passion but simultaneously hate that I love them lol, I guess that’s why the passion’s burning.  I fully blame Alex Hirsch and @loverofpiggies​ for starting my unhealthy addiction

Aaand here’s a bonus:

All of these are official images from the source material (Making Porty and Starro transparent was sooo annoying) except for the Fresh parasite which I drew myself, and the SCP.  

If you think of any other similar characters leave them in the notes!

Hope you had a nice holiday and/or have a fun rest of the month! B)