#i'll occasionally see that stuff underneath my friends' stories and i just

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

For the new writer ask meme, I’d be curious to see how you’d write a horror story. I think the depth of your writing would be interesting to see in that genre🤔

Prompt

So here's the thing. I haven't not written horror--but it was an "expunge my soul of this idea" blacking out & word vomiting type thing for a JJK OC I haven't touched in a minute because I haven't watched that anime in a minute (gotta match the show with the vibe your feeling, y'know?)

My two (2) friends I showed the drabble to said that my descriptions of the monster contained therein were horrifying, & I've gotten similar comments on when I tentatively poke at the conventions of the genre--so I'd definitely be down for something horror based! I'm not gonna share the whole thing, because I wrote it, like, 2 years ago, but I'll copy/paste some stuff because, y'know, we have an example.

As soon as she stepped inside the building, everything hit her at once. The oppressive, all-consuming grossness of the cursed energy that had taken shape within the abandoned hotel hit her like a ton of bricks, and so did the smell. Rot and stale breath and the stink of too much blood. Hana scrunched up her face, almost physically recoiling from the wave of stench and malevolence. She took a step forward, into the dark gloom of the lobby.

"Mamoru? Babe?" She called out, venturing further into the room and towards the dusty front desk. She stepped behind it, stopping in her tracks almost as soon as she did.

The soft, but unmistakable, 'clunk' of a small metal object falling onto a hard surface. She stood stock still as a chunky silver ring rolled across the hardwood, out of the ajar door that led into the employee back room. The shiny piece of jewelry only stopped rolling when it hit her boot, circling and wobbling rapidly before ultimately falling flat and still on the floor.

There was a pause, only half a second, before Hana bolted forward. The partially open door broke off of its hinges as she rushed through...only to skid to a stop just a foot inside the room. In the dark, far corner of the room sat it.

The curse was large, not terribly much taller than Hana herself, or maybe even her Uncle Noriaki, but Jesus it was wide. Oversized head sitting atop a body that was as wide as a dining table. It was fat, but in the way those guys who compete in strongman competitions are: solid and dense with obvious hard-packed muscle underneath. Its eyes were far too large, taking up most of its face...a face that was far too fleshy and was flushed with just a bit too much life. Its mouth sat high on its chest, just under the chin that connected directly to the body with seemingly no neck. Its mouth was wide, taking up most of the chest, and thin-lipped. Spit and blood dripped from and caked around the mouth filled with fine-pointed teeth. Over-large hands, bonier than they should have been with that body, clutched tightly to the wrist of a ragged and obviously ripped-off arm as a finger was greedily slurped into the maw. Audible, wet chewing and the occasional crunch of bone came from the curse, as did groans of pleasure, before it leaned back to angle its mouth towards the ceiling. It spit, and a shiny bit of silver caught the light coming in from the windows as it arced through the air before landing with a clunk and rolling towards Hana, this ring hitting her boot and wobbling to a stop just as the other had.

The curse watched the ring until it hit Hana's boot, only then did its huge, lazy eyes light on her. Its wide mouth split into a grotesque grin as it lumbered up from its seated position. It said something about being happy a woman was here, some uncomfortable statement about better taste or being more fun to eat. Hana barely registered what the curse said. Not when two of her fiance's multiple rings had been spit from this thing's mouth like watermelon seeds. Not when bits of his body and guts lay strewn at the curse's feet, obviously ripped apart with its raw strength...not when his severed head was staring straight towards where she was standing. Dark purple hair stuck to his forehead with blood, and his face was permanently a mask of fearful realization. All the light and humor and life had left his crimson irises...iris. One eye had been eaten already.

[loverdude]

I hate those story-ad-magazine-reel-whatever-things on the Snapchat stories page so much so fucking much I just saw 3 thumbnails of true crime ones followed by a fast food ad jesus fucking christ