#Horror?

[jaden-hamby]

Well, I hope he really likes my spaghetti...

[kachowden]

The Farmer (prologue)

The smell of mold was thick, and permeated the room you had so dreadfully woken up in.

The back of your head ached in dull pain, that wouldn’t allow you to remember it’s origins. Your chest was heavy as if the wind had left you and your lungs had been squeezed empty.

Your skin felt greasy and stiff. You wanted to shower. You needed to shower. But you couldn’t move. You didn’t know where you were. Was there even a bathroom to shower in?

The rotting wood and rusted windows made it seem unlikely. Though you could hear the buzzing of flies and croaks of frogs from behind the wall. Most likely, wherever you were, was next to some kind of lake or pond.

The itch of your skin was making you want to jump in, regardless of what might be lurking inside.

When the door creaked open, it’s hinges scratching against each other unpleasantly, you only found the ability to glance up from where you head had slumped against your shoulder.

Dark, sunken eyes that looked ill fitting, like the skin sagged over a face that wasn’t meant to be there. Scratchy stubble littered his chin. Greasy, unkempt hair that looked to be self maintained, if the jagged edges weren’t telling enough.

His clothes looked like they needed a few washes. And the smell that followed him was…mostly unpleasant. Like stale water and must. Not the most offensive smell, but it made your nose scrunch just for a moment.

The man, who you could guess was a farmer of some kind, stepped forward into the room, nearing the faint light the spilled in from the filthy window panes. Just enough, to where you could see the odd grey hue of his skin.

“mornin’…”

Your shoulders scrunched involuntarily, folding the skin of your back as your ears took in his voice.

Deep, monotone and a bit gruff. Like the voice of a man who never slept a day in his life. But it echoed. Like two voices speaking as one, and it rang in your ear like a quiet siren.

You supposed your lack of response made this man uncomfortable, as his eyes darted to the side for a moment, and he stepped forward. Closer.

It was now you noticed the plate of food in his large, calloused hands. It was now, as he sat down beside you, that you noticed the stiff bed you had woken up on. It was now, as the memories flooded through, that you realized the predicament you were in.

Your car was busted. Your friends were missing. You, were stranded in the middle of nowhere, in the company of a stranger who offered to help you.

and a voice in the back of your mind told you, that you were being chased.

The shift of the bed and squeaking of old springs led your eyes back to the face of the farmer infront of you, who looked just as lost in thought as you were.

He mumbled incoherently to himself, brows narrowing as if he was in the midst of an argument. Fingers fiddled and curled around the saggy fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, it seemed as if this episode had ended.

Before he looked up at you. And suddenly his brows furrowed deeper and his lips set into a deep frown.

“Your car…’s not gonna start anytime soon. You might be stuck here…’a while.”

Your chapped lips pursed, uncomfortably. “Can’t you call some repair men?”

He mimicked you, glancing away almost guiltily. “Ain’t no-body around here for miles. No land lines neither.”

Of course there wasn’t. You seemed to remember having lost connection of your phone sometime before your car broke down.

“…what about my friends? I gotta find them.”

“If they passed through here…I don’t think you’ll have much luck…”

What a comforting response. The farmer acknowledged your glare with an embarrassed clearing of his throat. “I’ll…take care of ya’ till you can get back on the road…”

“I can take care of myself just fine.”

The way he looked at you made you sick. Like dread had been poured down your throat and was slowly filling you the brim. His gaze was intense and foreboding, warning you that you did not know what you were up against.

“It ain’t just the animals out there you gotta worry about…it’s best of you to stay here. At least for a while.”

And how long is a while?

-1-

You learned very quickly, that a while was more than three days. And you learned even quicker, that sometimes it was better to not ask questions.

That was one of the rules here.

1. Don’t go out at night

2. Don’t open the shed

3. Don’t ask questions.

That last rule kept you sane.

Don’t ask why you couldn’t go out at night. Don’t ask why you can’t go in the shed.

Don’t ask why the farmer talks to himself. Don’t ask why his bedroom is never used.

Don’t ask why the cattle go stalk still when he’s nearby. Don’t ask why the crickets stop singing and frogs stop croaking when he’s outside.

Don’t ask about the smell. Don’t ask about the lumps in the ground.

Don’t ask why your neck is wet and sticky every morning. Don’t ask about your car. Don’t ask about your friends.

Don’t ask how long you’ll be stuck here.

Live ignorant while you’re here. Don’t think. It’s safer, to stop thinking. You’ll lose yourself if you think too much.

Those weren’t your words. You weren’t sure who’s they were. But they worked. They were comforting.

So you didn’t think. You no longer wondered where your friends were. You no longer wondered how long you’d be stuck here, or how long it’d take to fix your car.

The farmer took care of you. He said he would, and he did. You ate well, you slept okay and you smelled better then you had when you first woke up.

You paid little mind to the lingering touches or intense stares.

Or the moments you swore you heard something growl when you passed by.

Nothing was perfect. But it was safe.

Because you followed the rules.

Until you didn’t.

The mistake of needing the toilet late at night. The mistake of leaving the farmhouse into the pitch dark land around you. The mistake of opening the shed, thinking that it had been the outhouse you were looking for.

The mistake of asking questions, when a dark mass of oil and flesh stared back at you.

“What the fuck is that?”

You didn’t feel so safe anymore.

[starrforge]

a bit of light in the dark

[chmo-228]

Okay, I've been suffering over art all these weeks, so I'm showing it.

Meet the horror version of Mr. Radio!^^

[ixesese]

SEE HOW THE BRAIN PLAYS AROUND~

Tw: disturbing

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[marshiir]

WHY ARE YOU AFRAID OF SOMETHING THAT CAN NOT BE STOPPED?

Dadtcher slayvis and his alternate son ‼️

Based on the scrapped catalyst video Thorne posted on his twt + lil doodle hehehe

[allforfemeclipse]

Wasted...

Yippee! Happ.

[batbusiness-schooldropout]

Wild idea: Fairies like Jaskier and tend to silently watch him. So of course, some are on that mountain, see everything happen, take Great Offense to Geralt, and decide to torment a witcher.

Now, obviously, they can't physically attack a witcher. It takes a significant amount of their Luck to keep him from noticing them in the first place.

So they cause illusions and hallucinations. As Geralt walks down the mountain, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jaskier falling off the side. But every time he turns to save him, nothing is there.

He doesn't stop to rest until he's off the mountain. Every time he slows, he is overcome with the sense that he is being hunted, and his only option is to run away.

As he sets up camp, he hears Jaskier screaming, but there's no other sign of life. He hasn't smelt so much as a rabbit since he yelled at Jaskier. And when he follows the screams, there is still nothing.

He wakes to the sound of a fiend tearing flesh and the smell of Jaskier's blood. He manages to find the fiend, but there's no evidence that there was ever another person. And while eating fiend meat will make the next few days even more miserable, it's also the first somewhat digestible thing he's encountered in over a week. All the plants are either too diseased, rotted, or toxic to eat, no water source, not even morning dew, and there still being no sign of animal life.

He keeps walking, unable to see that he's walking in circles. Any time he strays from where they want him, he finds Jaskier's body in a worse state than the last time. And every time he approaches the body, it fades away.

If he tries to ignore it, the body will come alive and beg for him to please help, at least kill him himself instead of leaving him to suffer like this. No matter where Geralt goes, Fake Jaskier's cries just get louder until he complies. He's lost count of how many times he's snapped his friend's neck.

The fairies are amused in that way of theirs. They can't kill a witcher outright, but they can manipulate his senses and keep him tired, hungry, thirsty, and filled with dread for the friend he pushed away.

Maybe, if he's lucky, the bard or his sorceress will find and forgive him.

But most likely, he'll experience a witcher's retirement long before then.

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

Twyla Boogeyman

(outfit concepts and rambles below cut)

bc im a sucker for the film "Don't look under the bed" I leaned much heavier into the concept of a forgotten/abandoned companion doll than haunted house. I wanted her to feel like and old doll forgotten in the corner that has collected dust and melded into the shadows. Her face worn away from either decades of neglect or long gone years of love and adoration.

I want her hair to be constantly moving like its trying it's best to not be perceived except through the faintest reflections in her hair. Like her hair is made of shadows so it's constantly seeking the darkest place in any given space

not sure whether imma actually give her eyes or not tho. I just really love the idea of her having a completely blank space where her eyes should be in the light and just the slightest hint of something in the shadows. It would also make any ship art I make of her and Howleen cuter lol but I also really like the idea of a painted on face (doll repaint style) and the makeup I thought up for her

also idk how this'd work but i like the idea of whenever a light is shone directly on her, she turns 2 dimensional. like she would become a part of the wallpaper or blends into someone's shadow. Or maybe she'd becomes more doll like - like she'd shrink down and everything!

I think I'm just realising she's prob be more fun to write about and describe than to draw XD

[dummgiftapfel]

reality

[spoonofsketches]

“CAN YOU SEE ME?”

[eccentricmya]

Prompt: The viewpoint of a Noldo on the ships while Uinen’s tears make the sea rougher

Anon! Thank you for this most inspiring prompt! 🤍💛

I've decided to explore this as diary entries for @silmarillionepistolary week! There will be one entry for each day. Hope you like it ^^

Chapters: 1/7 Warnings: Major Character Death Characters: Original Characters, Uinen (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Epistolary, Flight of the Noldor, Psychological Horror

Summary: Some snippets from the journal of Almalindë during the flight of the Noldor on the stolen ships.

[dirk-menace]

tw animal skull

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[midnighthybrid1]

WARNING FOR EXPOSED BONE AND AN EXCESSIVELY TOOTHY SMILE!

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I’m trying out another prompt list! This time it’s @miiilowo’s FNAFtober prompt list! My first thought for this one was to do Moondrop, but then I decided that NAH- let’s draw one of the OG FNAF creature of darkness instead! So- uh- RWQFSFASXC (AKA Shadow Bonnie) twas drawn instead.

Hope ya like him!

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated! PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK!

(Prompt List under the cut!)

[oleanderpigeon]

Are you sure, though?

[ultra-phthalo]

Damage

The cyberformed oc Cinnabar has atypical characteristics due to their origin of creation. Going from human to cybertronian after stealing life from the dying alien god of creation, who's also a sentient planet would result in some abnormalities. However, Cinnabar themselves don't know the extent or jargon of these characteristics. With them both require training and examinations in order to know the technicalities of their mechanical abilities. I had put a lot of thought into these abilities, but rather then info dumping. I'm going to write it from the perspective of the doctors from Delphi discovering this strange damaged bot in the snow. That appears cybertronian. But has some concerning details that couldn't be dismissed.