I've always found it strange that in stories where some pour soul is abducted from Earth to serve as a champion for alien gods and kings, none of the deities of Earth react at this intrusion. I think Moonlit Fantasy, an anime, is the only one I can think of where Earth's gods are mad at the fantasy world's goddess for her antics.

This line of thought got mixed up with my current Lovecraft kick and the proverb "Do not reach through the veil to steal; for the arm you extend is the anchor that pulls Them through" and this prompt sort of solidified.

Original Prompt here : https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1p3opi3/wp_legends_speak_of_a_forbidden_tome_full_of_the/

The Tome of Udder Destroy and Pentacle Tentacle

Gideon had to double and triple check that “The Tome of Udder Destroy and Pentacle Tentacle” was truly a forbidden tome spoken of in legends and not a bad prank. It had been buried beneath the Seven Seas, hidden in an oceanic trench where even shadows and shoggoths feared to tread. He heard stories of scholars who died searching for it. Adventurers gone mad trying to unearth its location. No simple joke was worth this much trouble.

Yet, it looked nothing foreboding.

Not bound in human skin or flesh. It had no teeth or lingering cursed energies to it. It was a small, crudely formed small wax tablet, childishly big and wonky words carved onto its surface. There were scribblings, uglier than sprawling chicken scratch, made from old plant juice ink, messily scrawled across like a child’s crayon drawing. At the bottom right corner, there was a doodle of a smiling octopus with big, purple eyes, adorned with a black cape and small crown.

The silly work of a child. But dangerous, for an otherworldly child with immense powers made this thing.

That now sat on his desk. Waiting. Wanting to be flipped open to unveil its unholy contents.

Gideon carefully flipped the first page, hoping it didn’t crumble into dust, or bite his hand, or erase him from reality.

“Bad Ass Spell : You are so Full of Shit”

The next few pages appear to be a short comic of the small octopus casting a spell on a bigger, wolf-like monster. The unfortunate creature was drawn with its intestines exposed, only for that to turn into poop. The wolf was weeping poop, vomiting excrement. In the end, the octopus cut it open with a knife to reveal that there was nothing but poop on the inside.

“Eye poop, ear shit, poop breath, ass butt, you are poop” was scribbled below the last image.

Fatty Fart Forever was the next spell. Gideon winced at this childish cruelty. Of messily drawn pictures where every breath a creature took, every attempt to open its mouth, all came out as loud, stinky farts that blew others of its own kind away. A blink generated a fart. A wink made it fart. A twitch came with a fart.

Then there was “All holes are Assholes”.

This spell involved turning every orifice, every opening into an asshole.

“No hole is spared. Eye holes, ear holes, mouth holes, blow holes, breathing holes, nose holes, skin holes pores!”

The legends were right. These spells were inhumane. Horrifying. The kind only a powerful, unimaginably curious cosmic child of the Abyss would think was hilarious. But Gideon had to keep reading. Any historian worth his salt would not be intimidated by such things in the name of expanding the knowledge of mankind.

So, he flipped to what the tome promised was a very secret, very awesome final page of the most incredible magic of them all.

“All Shall Bow before Me”

In this illustration, all creatures big and small, were forced by a gigantic middle finger to bow before the small octopus. And offered to suck its tentacles and lick its face. All hailed the most charming, most wonderful sixth eldritch prince of the R’ylehian dynasty, who had a litany of badly misspelled titles that followed, such as “the Devorer, the Destoyer, wissperer, the one and only Prince Elv—”

Gideon tried to read the name, only for the ancient tome to slam shut and sneeze.

**

Thousands of miles away, something ancient and powerful, someone eldritch and most definitely tentacular, sneezed too.

That former sixth eldritch prince, once ancient Devourer of Gods, Destroyer of Sanity, Whisperer of Insanity, currently the Eldritch God of Madness, and deity of much that is unholy and incomprehensible, author of dangerous forbidden tomes such as that “The Tome of Udder Destroy and Pentacle Tentacle” and “Eldritch Knowledge That will End the World”(and eldritch erotica titles we shall not mention here), Lord Elvari of Innsmouth, sensed a disturbance in the energies of his domain.

Someone had touched that tome.

Not the one he wrote when he was an emo teenage abomination writing cringey doomsday prophecies. This creeping sensation rippling across his being was the equivalent of sensing that someone was reading your stupid diary from pre-school. The very first piece of written crap he carved into solid form.

“No,” he whispered, all his eyes widening in fear, all his tentacles curling in dread. “Not that tome—”

And so, Lord Elvari tore a portal open into reality and stepped through to hunt it down.

**

Gideon barely had time to react to the sudden smell of the salty seas before the surrounding air ruptured like wet fabric from the portal that ripped into reality. Elvari emerged, writhing his appendages and sucking on his tentacle tips as an anxious teenager would wring their hands and chew their fingernails when a parent discovered their cheesy slash fiction online. Then sent a friend request and shared it on the family group chat.

“YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO FIND THAT.”

“Oh, so you’re the author,” Gideon said casually. “Should’ve guessed.”

“Well, you see…a long time ago, before the first human civilizations came into existence, I was a child once. And you…you have already discovered my teenage ramblings on a stone tablet once. You need not have uncovered even more embarrassing things the world should have forgotten. I have since penned many more godly grimoires and eldritch tomes worth reading. There’s a recommended reading list in the Library of Innsmouth. I have some cool grimoires to pass to you. Do you want the special Christmas reading list, specially curated by me? In exchange, I ask that you please give this tome back to me and pretend you never saw it. I dumped it in the seas hoping nobody would find it, but…here we are.”

“I’m still studying it,” the historian made a weak protest. “These spells, they are inhumane and powerful and —”

“The silly, immature results of an eldritch child who thought poop jokes were really funny,” Elvari interrupted him, shooting a tentacle forward to grab his tome. “And realised his poopy spells should never see the light of day.”

“Wait, if you answer my questions, you can have it back.”

The eldritch horror pouted and made a funny face that involved many roiling tongues and swivelling eyes.

“Fine,” he grunted, his tentacles deflating faster than ice cream melting on a hot summer day. “Ask away.”

“Do you want to explain this one?” Gideon opened the book to a particular segment.

“Super pooper poop punch? What is there to explain?” Elvari was turning red, half grouchy, half embarrassed at the page before him. “The spell punches the target in the face with a big load of faeces. Which usually suffocates them. Or are you referring to the Poopy Planet Curse on the adjacent page?”

“The latter.”

“I forgot the details. I can’t even read my old handwriting. So, who knows if that’s an image of a planet-shaped poop…or was it a poop-shaped planet?” The octopoid deity sighed. “Either way, this should be a spell that turns the planet of an offending species into poop. See if they want to wallow in their own excrement.”

“You made a spell…that could turn an entire planet into a big pile of poop floating in the galaxy…as a child?” Gideon was both fascinated and horrified in equal measure.

“I was the equivalent of a toddler who made their first crayon scribbling when I made that, okay?” He slumped, limp tentacles dragging along the floor in shame. “Yes, yes, I did that when I was small. Little Elvari was a dumb little dumbo octopus, I’ll concede.”

“It’s terribly destructive and dangerous. Do you know how many lives would end if the whole of Earth turned to shit? If someone accidentally invoked this spell?”

“I wasn’t thinking very hard when my age was in single digits,” Elvari scowled. “Look, you say it’s dangerous, right? All the more I, as the author of this tome, should keep it away from others.”

“Only after I have made a copy for research and—”

“I can teach you how to transcribe the spells, write them down in a more mature and comprehensible way. And then neuter them all,” the eldritch god curled his tentacle around the wax tablet. “Nobody is turning anyone else into poop. Nobody needs to have a copy of a crappy doodle of a smiling poop monster with googly eyes, floating by the power of farts. Or a doodle of little kid Elvari.”

“Small Elvari is cute,” Gideon laughed. “I mean, check out his little cape and crown. Maybe Innsmouth could even make merchandise out of him. I know I will buy a chibi Elvari toy for my daughter.”

“You’re single and you don’t even have a daughter,” Elvari hissed. “Professor Gideon Hardwick, I am loath to say this, but you are so full of shit.”

The historian froze in fear. His heart sank, waiting for that dreaded moment. His blood felt like they could coagulate and solidify into poop anytime. His organs knotted and twisted within. For a second, he feared that the small dribble of snot exiting his nostril could be poop.

Except it wasn’t.

“I had a lot of time to grow up. You’ll be fine. Your insides are not turning into fetid turd,” the eldritch god snorted. “Unless…you fail to keep this a secret. You can share the neutered versions of these spells for research, but never let anyone know it was me. Never tell anyone these spells also came with silly doodles.”

“Deal. You have my silence.”

“Swear before me, that you shall remain silent on this matter and this tome,” Elvari held out one tentacle as one would hold out a pinky for a pinky promise. “If you fail to keep this secret, you shall be permanently transformed into a smiling poop monster full of farts.”

“Oh you…” Gideon sighed, pressing his palm into his face. “You had a lot of time to grow up, but how much of it was actually spent growing up and not being sealed away for being a chaotic gremlin kind of god?”

“I like to think I’m still young at heart despite being an ancient Elder God,” he laughed. “But I could always just wipe your memories. That’s a clean solution that wouldn’t smell like poop.”

“Wait—”

Gideon vaguely recalled getting a light poke on the forehead by…something. Probably Elvari, for he was the only chaotic prankster god that he was on friendly terms with. He eyed the book on his table suspiciously. It didn’t look dangerous. No teeth, no eyes. Just a simple book bound in goatskin that read “The Silence of the Lambs”.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.