#light horror

[kookies2000]

So is it just me, or has Dreamworks been on a horror spree? First, the Last Wish with its horror elements about Death. Ruby Gillman had some unsettling scenes, like Ruby almost drowning to save Conor or when she jumped into the ocean a second time. They portrayed the ocean in a horror light. And some scenes like her running across the halls, all nervous, had this shaky and gloomy feel to it. Trolls 3 has a horror element to it with the Put Put Trolls in the golf course. The 1st Trolls did have some dark scenes that could've been horror if they put it in that light. And now Kung Fu Panda 4 is said to have some horror elements with their shape shifting villain.

Not complaining, I LOVE IT!!!! I WANT MORE!!! Dreamworks is starting to grow with their audience, and I hope other studio's follow soon. Adding horror to their films.

[smilestrawbunny]

From the team behind “Lightkeeper” brings you Urruth, a visual novel for Winter Visual Novel Jam 2023 ❤️🖤 Urruth is a game about the different forms love can take, and the bonds two people can make amidst the cold, harsh winter. Coming soon!

[daily-dose-of-dopamine]

I hardly ever draw minus designs so let's fix that

[somerando369]

Decided to post some of my drawings after the encouragement from my friend @phytothecryptid

[convexicalcrow]

Okay but

Indiana Johns like Scar finding the Pyramid of the Pharaoh Cub.

Perhaps the Pyramid is also cursed with the spirit of Vexes?

When I read this, my brain was like, maybe this is the backstory that Scar tells ppl about the newest, and deadliest, attraction at Scarland, and this is what came out of that thought process. Also this is my first attempt at writing Grian so idk how well I have captured his voice and character, but I think it turned out okay.

-

"Oh, you wouldn't believe how far I walked through the desert! You'd think a pyramid would be easy to spot, but it wasn't! Man, it took forever, and I was almost out of water when I found it at last. It was just a gold block, shining in the sunlight, but I knew it. I knew what it was. That was the pyramid of the lost Pharaoh! It had to be! So I started digging, not knowing what I was going to find when-"

Scar paused, distracted by some more Hermits joining the line. He beamed and gestured them over.

"Hello, hello! Welcome to the Pharaoh's Lost Pyramid! The scariest attraction in aaaaaall of Scarland! It's a faithful recreation of the pyramid that I found many years ago in a desert many blocks away. Come, I will tell you what I found in there," Scar said.

"You found Cub, that's what you found," Grian said.

"Nonono! Not Cub! The lost Pharaoh! Doomed to rest in his pyramid, cursed by what he'd done to the land and his people, buried with so much treasure I could not carry it all away with me... But do not disturb his tomb, or you will die!" Scar said, gesturing wildly as he brought the group up to the entrance. "Do you still dare to enter the Pharaoh's lair?"

"Yeah, of course. It's just Cub. What is there to be scared of?" Grian said.

Scar opened the gates and stepped aside. "Oh, you'll find out, Grian. Beware, if the cursed Pharoah touches you, all hope is lost."

Grian shrugged as he went inside. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

Scar closed the gates behind him and locked them. Grian turned back.

"Hey! You're not locking me in here, are you?" Grian said.

"What, you said it wasn't scary! I'm sure you'll be fine, Grian," Scar said dismissively.

"You'll pay if it isn't, Scar, just warning you now," Grian said.

"Hey, you chose to go in, any deaths are not the fault of Scarland and it's owners. Goodbye, Grian, and good luck!" Scar said cheerfully.

Grian huffed, but continued inside. Scar turned back to the rest of the gathered Hermits. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes! I'd found the golden tip of the pyramid just peeking out from the sand! Night was closing in, I didn't have much time to make camp..."

-

Inside the pyramid, the Pharaoh lay in his sarcophagus, sleeping. At least, he had been sleeping until his senses told him he had intruders. His hands glowed and he summoned some Vexes.

"Go, my friends, tell me who walks the halls of the pyramid. They will become ghosts soon enough," the Pharaoh murmured.

The Vexes hissed, chattered their assent, and disappeared. The Pharaoh closed his eyes and waited, already tasting blood on his lips.

-

The hallways were tight and winding, full of dust, sand, and cobwebs. Grian could hear strange sounds as well, sounds he couldn't identify. He had the distinct feeling that he was being watched. Something that felt like cold fingers touched the back of his neck, and he startled, turning to see nothing behind him.

"What- who's there? Scar? What's going on?" Grian said, looking around him.

A sudden gust of wind blew the torches and candles out, plunging him into darkness.

"Oh, no, I don't like this. I don't like this!" Grian said as he reached for the wall and started moving, hoping he might find the way out.

-

"...It took an hour to break into the pyramid once I'd dug out enough sand. The limestone was harder and thicker than I thought, but once I managed to break in, I found myself in a one-block-wide passageway, filled with cobwebs and dust and a pile of rubble I'd just let in! I lit a torch and stepped inside, hoping the map I had of the passageways was accurate. The treasure was in here, I just knew it! I had to find it!" Scar said to his captive audience.

This wasn't how he intended to work the pyramid, but Jevin had got him on a roll and there was no stopping him now. They would hear the whole story whether they wanted to or not!

-

The one with the empty eyes walks the halls, master, the Vexes reported.

The Pharaoh smiled, knowing who they meant. "Well, well, well. Now, that's interesting. Chase him deeper. I'll awaken soon enough."

-

Grian had walked for another ten minutes, now inexplicably lost. He'd been shot with an arrow after tripping over a wire, and now he could hear zombies groaning behind the walls. He wished he had some torches on him, he might have been able to mark his way. But he'd brought nothing useful except for some food, acutely aware that Scarland was full of danger, not just from the dimly lit park that spawned mobs after dark, but from Scar himself and some of the attractions he'd built in here, like the pyramid. He wasn't taking any chances of losing his gear in a place he wouldn't be able to recover them from.

He stopped, hearing something screeching. Like a minecart breaking quickly on rails, followed by a thump and a howling sound. Perhaps coming in here had been a mistake. He froze as something sharp pressed against his neck.

"Who's there? Is that you, Scar? What do you want?" Grian said, trying to keep his voice down in case he attracted any further attention.

Run.

"Why would I do that? Who are you?" Grian said. "Maybe I'll just stay here."

Then you will die.

Grian nearly argued back, but a Vex face appeared as something grabbed his ankle and it was such a shock he kicked and kicked until he was free and did indeed run for it.

"Maybe Scar was right, maybe this place is cursed," Grian said as he ran down more hallways.

Well, run was a little optimistic. The darkness concealed a lot of hazards, and without a memory of where he ought to be going, he simply followed the halls blindly, hoping he might get back to the entrance at some point. Hopefully. Perhaps without dying, that would be nice.

-

The Pharaoh rose out of his sarcophagus, pushing the lid off until it crashed onto the ground. Grian was getting close, he could sense it. Grasping an ornate khopesh, the Pharaoh, bandages dragging through the sand, pushed the door of his tomb open and began to walk the halls.

-

In the back of Scar's awareness, he could sense where Cub was, and what was going on, as he told of his brave feats of adventuring as he walked through the old pyramid, avoiding traps and killing spiders and making his way to the treasure room. Every sentence became more incredible than the last, which is usually what happened when Scar let himself just spin a story like this.

He and Cub had cooked this idea up in Bdubs' coffee shop one night after several games of TCG at Cub's arena. The mummified Pharaoh creeping through the pyramid to kill whoever disturbed his sleep, with Vexes and other dangers thrown in for good measure. After all, Scarland needed at least one death game, right? It had to live up to it's reputation as dangerous as much as it was the happiest place on earth. That's what made it so special.

-

Grian heard spiders. Cave spiders. The problem was, he couldn't work out where the sound was coming from. He stopped in an intersection of three other passageways, all as dark as each other, unable to decide where to go next. He was sure the Vexes were still behind him, but they seemed to be toying with him. Getting close to bite him, before backing off again. Not even deep bites either, just warning shots, as it were, leaving him a little bloodied and in pain as he kept going.

He saw the eyes first. Beady red eyes charging at him through the corridor in front of him. It took a moment to process what he was seeing before they were suddenly on him, and he ran, unable to have avoided being bitten.

"Scar! SCAR! WHY WOULD YOU PUT CAVE SPIDERS IN HERE? WHO DOES THAT?" Grian screeched, feeling the poison burning through his body as he ran.

-

The Pharaoh laughed, hearing Grian's cries. He knew where he was, alright. The spiders were crying for blood. He was close. He raised the khopesh, its blade sharp and ready to strike, as he took a left, and prepared to end the game.

-

Grian had found a small nook to hide in, where he was waiting for the poison to wear off as he ate as much as he could. His feet were hurting in more ways than one. He was shivering, ignoring the blood from another arrow shot that had hit his thigh. At least he couldn't hear any spiders anymore.

What he could hear now, once he stopped breathing so heavily, were footsteps. Human-sounding footsteps.

"There's someone in my tomb. Someone who shouldn't be here. Someone who won't live to see the sky again once I find you," a voice called.

It was definitely Cub, Grian realised. But also, more than Cub. His voice had been booming, shimmering with magic. He should probably move, especially now that the poison had worn off. The problem was, the Pharaoh's voice was coming from all angles. He had no idea where he actually was.

"I'm just going to have to guess, aren't I? Oh, good lord. Where's left to go? There's only a couple of passageways from here. Guess I'd better just pick one and see where I end up," Grian said.

-

The Pharaoh pushed a button, hidden underneath some sand. Whichever way Grian went, he wasn't getting away. He was so close now. Time to feed. Time to eat the soul of his next victim.

-

Grian crashed into a wall that he was sure had been a much longer hallway.

"No! Hey! Let me out of here!" Grian said thumping on the stone.

Footsteps approached. Grian turned to see a dark figure closing in.

"You dare to disturb my slumber, mortal? No one enters my tomb and lives!" the Pharaoh cried as he ran at Grian.

"No! Scar! Hey! Wait, I-"

-

Grian was slain by TheCursedPharaoh using The Vengeance of Ra

-

Scar pulled something out of his bag as his fellow Hermits looked on in awe. "See, this is a golden cup I found in the tomb! Look at the intricate carvings! There were a pair of these, and I rescued them, along with so many other treasures! Once you complete the pyramid, you can see them all in the museum, and buy replicas of your favourites in the gift shop! Take home a little piece of the Pharaoh's treasure to remember your visit to Scarland! So, who's keen to go next?"

[beefcliff]

a little video about being terminally online

send me an ask or support me w/ merch

[asterhaze]

There Will Be No More Strawberries

• Original Work •

Copyright © 2023. Aster Haze. All rights reserved.

I hate strawberries. Their dimpled outside squishes easily, even with a delicate touch, and their sickly sweet fragrance sticks to my fingers even after I have washed them ten times. There is something about their smell, their texture, all of them that seems so fake, so manufactured, so artificially perfected that I find it strange that others like them so much. Strawberries are my brother's favorite fruit.

I also hate bananas. It isn't necessarily their flavor, though bland and uninteresting, that disgusts me. It's their texture. So squishy yet stringy, too easy to eat, mush barely held together by near-flake fibers. They should be good, since they're okay dried, but they're not. Bananas are my grandmother's favorite fruit.

I hate chocolate the most. Sugary dirt. Gritty on my tongue even when smooth. Melts in your throat even if you try to swallow it whole. The smell is enough to make me gag, yet I am one of a kind. Unless they're allergic, I have found that chocolate is one of everyone's favorite treats.

In 90 seconds there will be no more strawberries. In 90 seconds there will be no more bananas. In 90 seconds there will be no more chocolate because no matter how much we love something, how much we care for something, how much we want those things to still exist for those that come after us, there are people like me who care so little for their existence that their absence will be of so little consequence that we will simply forget they were ever there. My life will not change if there are no more strawberries or bananas or chocolate or chocolate dipped fruit. My life will go on.

There is a man who sits in a fancy chair in front of a beautiful desk with his 70-year-old hand resting on the handle of a telephone. This man has a voice so powerful that he can command a dead hand to shoo away the lives of every living thing. Every human, every animal, every strawberry, every banana, and every cacao tree will have its DNA wiped from the face of the earth with the back of death's hand. Like eraser shavings.

There is a man who stands on a tall podium, speaking over the begging screams of his people, and he tells men and women in designer suits with important titles that if he doesn't get what he wants, he will forget us under lovely dots. There are lovely dots on the map. There are lovely dots on every country and every major city in the world. The humans and the strawberries and the bananas and the chocolate bars are so small, you can't even see them. Just the dots.

Will the people who take those lovely dots off of the map replant our fields after the dead hand moves? Will the man who wants to take us with him into the abyss if we don't bend to his will make us chocolate after the fires stop burning? Will the men and women in designer suits pass out bananas and strawberries when the winter fades and the door to their bunkers open up? Will they pass them out to us?

Do the faces of unimportant people with regular titles, bargain suits, and small voices matter if they live below those lovely dots? Are they as insignificant as strawberries, bananas, and chocolate? Less so since they're not the important people's favorites? Even less because they can always make more of themselves if the dead hand forgets to sweep them away?

One day the dead hand will move and it will keep its assured promise. The hand has only so many fingers to point with and can only smudge so many lovely dots away. Nameless faces will find a way to roam the earth again, to rebuild, to survive the poisonous snow and salted earth. Without fresh strawberries. Without bananas. Without chocolate.

But if my brother is still alive, God forbid, he will feel their absence and he will miss the taste of a ripe strawberry picked from his father's garden in summer to replace the ashen taste that rots his tongue. One day if my grandmother is still alive, God forbid, she will wake up hungry and wish there was something easy for her to peel and tear with shaky aged hands, and something soft and easily mushed with her tired gums. After midnight there are no more bananas, no more easy foods, and no more favorites.

Years ago someone found a tree with pods growing on its branches, cracked them open, and between them and their many ancestors they figured out how to make all sorts of chocolatey treats for me to hate and everyone else to enjoy. Hours ago someone looked at a green bundle of leaves with tiny red berries and spent the rest of their life experimenting, learning, and cultivating that tiny patch so the fruit would grow bigger and stronger. Minutes ago someone found out how to take the seeds out of bananas and then clone them so that every single banana that grows from a cloned tree tastes almost exactly the same. While all of this was happening, kingdoms and dynasties rose and fell. Countries were born, lived, grabbed by the throat, and took their final breaths as they were absorbed by countries with bigger hands.

All of this fantastic knowledge is kept in quiet books that were invented minutes ago. Since books are big and heavy, noisy devices powered by controlled lightning were invented seconds ago so all of that knowledge can live in our pocket. In 91 seconds the fires will start and all the books will burn and anyone who survives under the lovely dots won't want to read anyway since there will be nothing to read. In 91 seconds all of the smart parts of those noisy devices will melt like the small parts of people, only less goopy.

All of the records of those hours and minutes and seconds will be wiped away in 90 seconds so that when my brother and my grandmother and I die no one will ever think of strawberries or bananas or chocolate or America or Russia or Europe or China. Because after 90 seconds have long passed, after the dead hand lays mummified by the poison snow in the salted earth, there will be nothing left of this earth that any of us living now will recognize. And our descendents will have no strawberries, bananas, chocolate, or great countries' ideals to remember because there are also no books or noisy devices.

Only the silence, the lack thereof, the stories and the tales passed night by night as children are tucked in their rags.

[hovkinnie]

Koishi & Invisibility

[aotearoa20]

Ghost Hunter Au: Lost

Caranthir sighed as he came to a stop halfway up another staircase that simply disappeared into the ceiling. This house was a nightmare to navigate. Curufin has sent him to set up camera in the nursery which was fine, but halfway back to the lobby he must have taken a wrong turn.

He marched back down the stairs and through some glass doors into another room. His flashlight cast strange shadows over the furniture and fake confectionery placed on the table. He could’ve sworn he’d been through this parlour room at least three times. Amras said the house had around seventeen of them, each with slightly different styled furniture.

The lady who’d lived here was terrified the spirits were after her and wanted to kill her. She built her house as large and confusing as possible to keep the away from her.

“Stupid lady,” he muttered to himself, “No way to win, everyone dies at some point. You really had to inflict this house on the rest of us.”

He kicked one of the chairs, ignoring how it seemed to continue to screech long after it stopped. This was idiotic. What was he even doing here? The first house made sense. Amras got an distinction on his school project as he always did but there was no real reason to keep going with this whole ghost hunting series. It was morbid and pointless and damn it, it made his little brother smile more than any other time he’d seen him since the accident.

He clicked his tongue and took a breath. The windows stared out onto the front yard, which really ought to orientate him somewhat. The gardens had been beautiful in the daylight and stood like comforting sentinels in the dark. There were tresses and stylised ledges on the outside of the building. If it came to it he could probably make his way down that way.

Footsteps above him made him sigh in relief. Signs of life at last. A midnight climb was possible but Maglor and Maedhros were waiting outside and if they saw him he’d never hear the end of it. Mercifully he found the working staircase to the third floor and open the door to the room above him. A study with entirely too much bird paraphernalia littered across the desk and chairs and walls. And nothing else.

He takes a step inside. He’s fairly certain the noise had come from here. There was no real door at the end of the corridor so anyone up must have been able to walk past him. There was a canary embossed grandfather clock ticking down the time on the wall. The black bird eyes stare down at him expectantly as he licked his suddenly very dry lips.

“Lost?”

He spun round. Amras leaned against the doorframe on the other side of the room. His face was shadowed but slips of moonlight brushed against his copper curls. And Caranthir could recognise the smug smile in his voice any day.

“This is stupid.”

Amras only laughed and disappeared into the dark. Grumbling under his breath he marched after him. Night was well underway and the temperature kept dropping randomly. He pulled his jacket around him tighter.

“Slow down,” he shouts after his brother who was already at the far end of the corridor. By the time he reached it, Amras just vanished behind the doorway.

“Amras?” He said uncertain as he turned the corner and rolled his footsteps down the stairway. He caught sight of his figure back lit by the the dimly light lobby. Blinking hard he stepped back into the open.

“Did you get lost?” Amras grinned from the middle of the nest of cables he’d been untangling when he’d left. Progress had been made but there was no sign he’d gotten up.

Caranthir frowned and looked back towards the empty hall. The question doesn’t quite leave his lips as the pressed together. A couple of months ago there would be a perfectly good reason for the mixup. It’s so cold. And something in the air that smells like burnt pine.

“Is it working,” Celegorm’s voice cuts above his racing heart beat. It steadies him a moment and he takes a breath. He focused on Curufin who narrowed pointed the EMP detector in Celegorm’s direction. It starts screeching and blinking.

“Not unless your a ghost.”

Celegorm gave a look of mock shock, “Oh No! You caught me.”

Caranthir nods slowly. Idiots he’s surrounded by ididots who flash cameras around empty houses. And he’s tired. Whatever he saw before must have a logical explanation.

There is something moving in the corner of his eye.

He cursed as he turned. The window. There’s a face. There’s a pale face staring in at them. Smiling behind copper curls. He screamed as the rest of them bolted to their feet. Three beams of torchlight hit the window but to little more than dazzle them. It was only by the chirruping laugh outside that they realised.

“Maedhros!” Amras shouts marching up to the window, “you are supposed to wait at the entrance!”

“Hurry up,” came the muffled voice, “It’s cold and I think Maglor might faint from nerves.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Caranthir!” He blinks as Curufin gestures annoyed at the computer, “Are you gonna check the camera feeds or are you just gonna stand there like a ghost.”

Celegorm grabs the EMP detector and points it in his direction. Nothing. Of course. Caranthir rolls his eyes and looks over at the monitor. It’s easier to fiddle with sensitise and frame rate then try to fit what he’d seen in the house into reality. He shakes his head and just forgets.

[addicted2coke-theothercoke]

The Revenant

Sirens screamed like an old Drekavac now immortalized in cold steel, their cries accompanied by violent red lights of warning which shone upon blood that bathed dead corridors. Once soldiers of courage fled down winding halls in panic, more, in dread. Rightfully scared scientists, engineers, cooks, janitors, piolets, all that remained, that is, crammed themselves into every tight corner that provided a haven of safety. God-fearing roars of resident announcer Micheal Shirk bellowed out mechanically an omen that all could see. The Revenant had arrived once more.

As hell broke loose, and the stranger from across the stars massacred the occupants of Travelway Haden, Captain Philip prepared to take his own life.

Philip thought first of despair, of agony, of pain soon arriving and to be delivered by his own pistol. A vellian shot through the chest would be the force of a raging bull, the shock of the electric chair. Millions of volts were to course through his body instantaneously on impact. A violence beyond nature that would evaporate hair, burn skin, twist bone in sudden spasm, and partially cremate upon corpseification. Even all this would not act quick enough to prevent Philip from the second pain. From feeling the gaping hole in his chest, lungs popping and hearts punctured, muscle dropping to the floor, blood pouring.

As the Revenant drew near, and the last dying screams of attempted hiders vibrated upon metal, the choice became clear.

Philip's next thoughts were of regret, for Cassandra told clearly of the knife in her hand, and how she would come to exact payment in pain. It was clear from that start that whatever was trapped within the vessel, its construction of solid tungsten and alien alloy, was never meant to be. Yet Haden had welcomed the unknown stranger, nursed it, taught it. Taught it science, and religion, and history, and culture, and politics, and above all the purest way of man, the greatest pastime of humanity, how to kill. It so passively demonstrated its clear lacking need for instruction, standing idly and with disinterest at every world not involving food, until we had come to the topic of death. Foolish as children, we were but toys that interested it, animals barking such funny noises, but when a dog bites an owner, the dog must die.

Screams had all died down now, even the howls of Shirk. Not even the Drekavac and its fellow red dared announce the coming presence, for without warning Haden was silent and dark. Silent, that is, except for the soft foot prints of the Revenant outside the command rooms very door.

Steeled, prepared, Philip turned the gun rapidly not at the mortal monster beyond but towards his own life. Pulling hard the clicking trigger so that a finger paled from pressure. Dying. Alone. One billion miles from family. But safe from the Revenant. Safe.

The Revenant did later then open the heavy door to find a bloodbath. Mangled and burnt body that smolders atop fine carpet now dipped in red, half the chest thrown against the wall. It surely smiled at this site.

--the end

[dzthenerd490]

File: Coraline

SCP: AFX

Code Name: The Beldam

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: The House where SCP-AFX is located has been bought by the Foundation to prevent any other families form falling into SCP-AFX's trap. Foundation D Class children are regularly used to test how exactly SCP-AFX works. If possible, they are pulled out before the "feeding" happens. This must be done quickly and effectively as there is no way to livestream the data recorded within SCP-AFX.

Description: SCP-AFX is a small door that seemingly leads nowhere for anyone who was not chosen. However, when around children, especially children that don't like their current situation in life it will open at night. Once it does normally a living bean filled doll representing a rat will show up and lure the children to the door where they will now find it open leading to a strange tunnel. Once they go into the other side of the tunnel, they will find themselves in a pocket dimension that is a mirror to the house. 

There they will also find SCP-AFX-Mother and several, possibly hundreds, of SCP-AFX-Slave instances. SCP-AFX-Mother is the ruler of the pocket dimension that controls everything and decides the fate of all SPC-AFX-Slave instances as well as how the world looks. She will appear as the child's mother or in the form as their ideal mother and give off a loving personality. The main difference is that she will have buttons for eyes. She and her SCP-AFX-Slave instances will provide the child with whatever they want and give it all too them in the most special and awe-inspiring way. They will typically represent funnier and cooler versions of people the child knows but also have buttons for eyes. 

There is also a doll made by SCP-AFX-Mother labeled as SCP-AFX-Doll. SCP-AFX Doll manifests in our world and always has a resemblance of the targeted child. It's seemingly no different to a regular doll but secretly watches over the child to see what is wrong with their lives and how SCP-AFX-Mother can make it all better. The whole purpose of this is to convince the child that they should stay here to live happily forever. In doing this they will eventually agree to have button's sown onto their eyes as well. However, this merely part of the trap that SCP-AFX-Mother has for the child.

Once the child has agreed to have buttons sown onto their eyes SCP-AFX-Mother will reveal her true nature by devouring them and imprison their souls within her pocket dimension. It's unknown if doing this gives her sustenance or power of some kind. It's also unknown if SCP-AFX-Mother has an end goal besides devouring more and more children every chance she gets. Perhaps she will eventually grow strong enough to leave the pocket dimension and attack our world but hopefully the Foundation can prevent that. 

SCP-AFX was discovered in 2009 when a woman named [data expunged] reported that the newest tenants at her building were in danger, especially their daughter. She told the police that there was a monster in that house, and it feeds on children, so they need to get them out of there. The police dismissed her call, but the Foundation had agents get the family a new house and even paid them to have it. Afterwards two Foundation agents posing as parents for a D Class child purchased the house. They immediately gave the child clothing bugged with recording equipment to ensure that if any anomaly did attack then the Foundation would know. 

That was how the Foundation was revealed to SCP-AFX, though unfortunately because SCP-AFX-Mother can see everything through SCP-AFX-Doll, the Foundation must be careful not to reveal itself lest SCP-AFX-Mother takes more drastic measures. As such any testing must always be done with a different child and the proper steps must be made to have the families move out and a new one move back in. All testing must be prepared days ahead of time and every possible accident and failure must be anticipated with the proper contingency plans. Should the Foundation be exposed, the door to SCP-AFX must be sealed off and the building where SCP-AFX is located must be sealed up and left abandoned so no child will ever be trapped by SCP-AFX-Mother again. 

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[blueequin0x]

Goretober - 10] Nightmare //  Art + Speedpaint

Most of the imagery in this one is inspired by the song “Pink Nightmares” by Infected Mushroom, and elements of my experience of insomnia. This description feels too short but I don’t have anything else left to say lol

DISCLAIMER

The pill colours I chose were just colours that I thought worked well together, they ARE NOT intended to match any real medications

CONTENT WARNINGS: character staring directly at camera, a LOT of pills, kubrick stare // please tell me if I missed any :]   

IMAGE UNDER BREAK

DO NOT REPOST // DO NOT REMOVE CAPTION AND CONTENT WARNINGS

total time taken: 15 hours 30 minutes

link to the speedpaint: https://youtu.be/wk989NBY3e4

my art / oc / digital art / cw staring / cw horror / tw staring / tw horror / light horror / creepy art / horror art / spooky art / mlp grimdark / mlp horror / pinkie pie / goretober 2022 / medibang paint / speedpaint / image description will be added later

[elliepassmore]

Someone You Can Build a Nest In release!

Shesheshen has made a mistake fatal to all monsters: she's fallen in love.

Shesheshen is a shapeshifter, who happily resides as an amorphous lump at the bottom of a ruined manor. When her rest is interrupted by hunters intent on murdering her, she constructs a body from the remains of past meals: a metal chain for a backbone, borrowed bones for limbs, and a bear trap as an extra mouth.

However, the hunters chase Shesheshen out of her home and off a cliff. Badly hurt, she’s found and nursed back to health by Homily, a warm-hearted human, who has mistaken Shesheshen as a fellow human. Homily is kind and nurturing and would make an excellent co-parent: an ideal place to lay Shesheshen’s eggs so their young could devour Homily from the inside out. But as they grow close, she realizes humans don’t think about love that way.

Shesheshen hates keeping her identity secret from Homily, but just as she’s about to confess, Homily reveals why she’s in the area: she’s hunting a shapeshifting monster that supposedly cursed her family. Has Shesheshen seen it anywhere?

Eating her girlfriend isn’t an option. Shesheshen didn’t curse anyone, but to give herself and Homily a chance at happiness, she has to figure out why Homily’s twisted family thinks she did. As the hunt for the monster becomes increasingly deadly, Shesheshen must unearth the truth quickly, or soon both of their lives will be at risk.

And the bigger challenge remains: surviving her toxic in-laws long enough to learn to build a life with, rather than in, the love of her life.

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This is what I would classify as 'light horror.' Is there gore? Yes. Can it be gruesome? Yes. Is it funny and overall lighthearted? Also yes. I had a lot of fun reading this novel. Shesheshen is such a unique narrator and I really loved the casual 'eat people as a solution' mentality that she had. I also liked Homily, who was extremely protective and, despite the fact that she's hunting a monster, doesn't even entirely want to hurt it.

That being said, this novel also deals with some heavier themes, like abuse and power dynamics, so keep that in mind. I think Wiswell did a good job balancing the horror, humor, and heaviness so that all three mesh well together and none of them feel out of place or overdone.

Interested and want a more in-depth opinion? Check out my full review!

[daily-dose-of-dopamine]

The more you look the worse it gets

Examples:

More under the cut:

[somerando369]

My sisters left their markers out and I couldn’t help myself

One of them saw me and asked if she was a zombie so I just went with it and added more to make her one haha

[calf-cover]

Look! I made a cover for a blog, and it looks like a postcard with the atmosphere of summer, paradise-like resort and chthonic unpronounceable horror! Isn't that cool?!

(d̞͈̃̚☼͚͡n̗͇͈͐̓͠'̰̂t̙̚ L͍̜̽̓o♉̡̛͍̼̖̓͗̉k̢̹̲̾̍̎ ̭̉I̡̥͓̾̌̏t̢͙̀̑ ̹̩̦̿͐͡iṋ̩̭̠̾͗̓̚ ̪̤̝̅̀̏̒͢t̡̬̖̀͋̂ĥ͈͞ͅe͓̺̋͊͐͜ ͍͚̅͗̑͜Eÿͅǝ)