𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐲 | 𝑀𝑅. 𝑁𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝐹𝐴𝐿𝐿

First time he hasn’t killed anyone in… well.. shit.. this is a record alone.

#AnEveningWithTheCoreFive

A small grin. “What’re you in for mood for?” He asked. “Or want to let me pick the poison randomly?” #AnEveningWithTheCoreFive

Just as he… has ( zero ) clue that her ( family ) is here or part of at least.

He’s going to grab a few interesting; things that caught his attention. Maybe even get a surprise gift for his date.

—

It’s rare.. that he’s in a larger crowd without a target but this isn’t unbearable.

He’s probably found future targets; that others would want dead but eh; tonight it’s about a different kind of fun.

“Are you thirsty darling?” He asked and arched a brow. #AnEveningWithTheCoreFive

NSFW

It has been ( far ) too long since he’s had a tight cunt wrapped around him.

It’s a ( need )

He ( owes ) this cute Blondie a drink still. @callheavenabove.bsky.social

⛧ — ❝ And we would scream together songs unsung ❞

#GeniusJester: Emily Levesque. Detective for the LAPD with a particular hatred for vampires. Goddaughter of Bobby Singer. Pre-shipped with @onewingedtrick.bsky.social. BtVS OC. MDNI. Crossover + OC + AU friendly. MV + Selective

« this account is pre-shipped with a friend of mine and is single ship unless stated otherwise »

« all filters used are by sladestroke on the app Polarr »

« This account contains triggers to content related to murder, blasphemy, cannibalism, sexual themes, and graphic gore.

Everything here is steeped in splatterpunk and extreme horror heavily inspired by the brutal works of Judith sonnet »

Tormentius, reborn through Jake Hartley, became known as the Mr. Nightfall Killer—a sadistic, elusive killer-for-hire sought out by only the most depraved humans… or otherworldly beings.

Years passed. Then, one by one, brutal murders began surfacing across the country. Each city had its own horror story—unsolved, vile, and each bearing the same signature:

“He lives in the shadows with us. Mr. Nightfall.”
——

his name. Worship began again. His first night in control: he drove a hammer and nail through his father’s face, cracking his skull open like a peanut. His mother was found decapitated and skinned to the bone.

The police believed Jake snapped and vanished. He was never found. —

Just as Tormentius once consumed Earth, he now consumed Jake’s body, mind, and soul.

The demon grew stronger with every sick, depraved act committed in its name. Word of Mr. Nightfall, as he would come to be known, spread like a cancer. Hidden cults formed. Blood was shed in —

The shadows spoke to him—urged him to hurt, to make people scream, to inflict suffering and agony. But Jake believed in the Lord. He trusted that God would save him from the darkness.

God never came. ——

A new one took its place.

In 1960, Pastor Neil Hartley blessed the land and moved in with his wife and their 20-year-old son, Jake. For a while, everything seemed fine.

Then Jake began to hear whispers. —

fish in the kitchen—her tongue burning on the stove. The daughter had written “Hail Tormentius” on the walls before cutting out her own tongue and stabbing out her eyes.

It was one of the worst cases in 1920s Los Angeles.

Nobody ever moved in again. The house was demolished. —

whispered about a serial killer. No one was caught.

Months later, screams and gunshots rang out. Police arrived to pure hell: the daughter had butchered her father, shoving his mutilated cock and balls into his mouth before shooting out his eyes. The mother was gutted like —

complained of creeping monsters in the shadows—his room, the hallways, the corners of the home. His family dismissed it as an overactive imagination.

Until the day they returned to find him hanging from the ceiling—eyes missing, mouth agape, tongue ripped out.

The town —

others believed they had erased all trace of him, Tormentius waited. And through the centuries, it spread.

Eventually, a house was built over that cursed land. A family moved in, unaware of the festering horror beneath their feet. Within months, their youngest child —

Begin.

His reign of terror lasted until other ancient beings arrived. Together, they overpowered the void and struck it down—ridding Earth of his darkness. Or so they thought.

But after delivering the final blow, the shadow bled its sickness into a patch of soil. While the —

sadistic murder.

The more blood spilled in his name, the stronger he grew. All he had to do was whisper from the shadows—never needing to appear in physical form. The cultists would hear his voice, and their eyes would turn black with bloodlust. Then, the massacres would —

gaping, tongueless mouths.

Then the shadow fell onto Earth, slipping through a crack in the cosmic barrier. Darkness swallowed it whole, bringing forth bloodbaths, screams, and chaos. Tormentius became more than a monster—he became a god of torment, torture, and depraved, —

and yanked out innards, devouring them as they slithered like shiny, sparkling snakes. Others were hanged with their own intestines. After the bloodbath, every mutilated corpse shared one thing in common: the eyes and mouths were savagely ripped out, leaving hollow sockets and —

Tormentius was something else entirely—something malformed, festering from something Cthulhu devoured… but violently spat out.

That mistake confusing it for kin was fatal.

The true offspring of Cthulhu were slaughtered in demented ways. The cosmic void tore into their guts —

Tormentius was a twisted, cruel, depraved, dark void of screaming violence existing when there were only stars. It was born from a shadow of cruelty that eclipsed all light. Eventually, other cosmic beings arrived, believed to be true offspring of Cthulhu. But the one known as —

𝑆𝑂𝐿𝑂𝑆:

⸻

Personality:

Cruel. Vile. Sadistic. Enjoys inflicting pain, suffering, and madness. Finds joy in screams and bloodletting. A god of agony, reborn in flesh.