#next to existential horror

[hasbledtodeathunderourknife]

I love having posts about historical context for Dracula next to posts calling Jonathan their little meow meow next to posts talking about the horror next to posts about polycules. This is surely how Dracula was made to be consumed

[carolofthebell]

Inktober 2023

Day 1: Dream

I’ve had this idea since reading Not a Very Evil Spirit by @muffinlance

There’s a haunting portion where Young Yue’s catches a glimpse of the spirit world through a tear in reality sees “Things no mortal mind should understand” and it changes her perception of reality.

(The shadows of the koi fish stretched under the water, deeper than the little pond went, swelling as the depths grew, their real bodies too large to fit, too strange to even be called bodies.)

I’ve tried to draw this a number of times since and still can’t capture the true eldritch horror vibe Muffin evokes. But I thought re-visiting the fic and trying again would be a great way to kick off Spooky Season.

Here’s the link:

It is the second fic in the series:

[silvergarnet12]

Made these guys glowy as well.

[bookpdf]

things should be easier & the world should be kinder & there should be more time for meandering & less time at work

[bespectacledbun]

—There was a concept he learned about, years ago, when he was but a boy under the tutelage of various scholars (prior to their replacement by Sariel). An old empire, one scholar had told him– a wizened old man who seemed more a part of his beloved history books than of the living– older than Rhodolite, or Obsidian, or even Benitoite. The people had a peculiar way of dealing with tyrants and despots they deemed unfit for the governing of the country. They would carve out the names of the damned from the annals of history, chip away at statues until they remained faceless, and destroy every record until there was nothing that could prove they had ever existed. A total condemnation of memory, he had said, stroking a contemplative hand over his whiskery beard, one that served to wipe every trace of their person from the people’s hearts and minds.

He didn’t need to ask what it felt like, because he already knew. Slowly but surely, over days, months, and years, his posture was fixed, his manner of speech grew refined, and every sinew and muscle in his body was tenderized over and over and over to make his body no longer recognizable to himself. Until he could walk like a royal, could talk like a royal, could effectively fool kin and community into believing he was their beloved prince. Until the yoke of authority felt as familiar on his shoulders as the chains of oppression, until his duties were as natural to him as sleeping and breathing.

Until every last fragment of his being was forgotten and replaced, leaving nothing behind but “Leon Dompteur”.

—excerpt from my wip of ‘Damnatio Memoriae’, a Leon character study

[francesthetraveller]

Since I'm feeling extra jolly lately, I've decided... THAT Y'ALL ARE GETTING A REALLY BIG ARTDUMP!!! YEAH I'M JUST GONNA TAKE A HUGE SHITPOST FOR THE CHRISTMAS CELEBRATIONS!!!

[Even though it's satisfying to not get anymore orders during this time of night...with all the quietness...]

all of these were done because I was acting silly

so yeah if you ever wondered how the lad felt during the yellow streak, just so you know, lack of sleep, stress and also constant state of overwork is in fact, not a fun thing to experience

then we have some horse art because I really love turning my characters into magical horses and I really loved that horse show with magical horses but imagine if I made my favourite little guy into a horse, but not just any horse BUT ONE OF THOSE BIG BENDY HORSES THAT CAUSE CHAOS AND DESTRUCTION ! ! !

drew my roboblorbos as little chipbees,, (don't mind the fact I drew Eve's gun in the wrong hand-)

and finally we have a BRAND NEW GIJINKA??? OF ANOTHER ROBO CHARACTER??? Yes!! This over here is Ares From Next Gen, who is a little bastard <3 (who also kinda tried to kill a child-)

[personalzombie-tv]

oh my god i just realized that since the Limited Life sessions are what, three hours long? That means Jimmy WILL die next session. He's only got like three hours left

[gummiefrog]

🍄 zygom “zyggy” 🍄 reanimated knight/corpse (warforged homebrew) and circle of spores druid plagued by resurfacing memories of who they once were  trying their best to forge a new (un)life for themself

[thepuffingice]

reblogged post on your dashboard with the tags #JHSFHJKSF NEXT TAGS >> is this anything

[misfit-crew]

Finally finished a very long book. My world view is shifted slightly to the left and I now know my favorite flavor of Madness. Thank you Mark Z. Danielewski

[frenchkisstheabyss]

⛧ 𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 ⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/fluff/angst

⛧ Summary: It's Halloween 1996, you've just broken up with your toxic ex, and there's a killer on the loose. When you go to the local video store to find your next distraction, you run into your longtime crushes who have their hearts set on looking after you. But you must be careful. Not everyone's who they appear to be.

⛧ Word Count: 2.1k

⛧ Warnings: brief discussion of murder, implied possessive ex, intro to knife play if you squint, suggestive, psycho Minsung, you probably have a killer fetish, & that's all my loves. It's otherwise quite fluffy tbh.

⛧ A/N: I'm starting this series as my love letter to 90's slasher films aaaand because I just love Minsung. I'm writing this in "tapes" instead of chapters for ✨ ambiance ✨ so I hope the vibes come across. I'm already working on part two so I'll have my knives and fingers crossed you babes enjoy this one.

💀 >>> Go to Tape 2 >>> 💀

A bell dings overhead as you step through the door of Topline Video. A crowd of middle school kids dart by, nearly knocking you over in their excitement to get home with some cheesy slasher flick they definitely shouldn’t be watching. All are in full costume, wearing the kind of plastic masks that smell sorta funny when you put them on. 

The kid dressed as a goblin turns back for a second, peeling up the murky green mask to reveal an apologetic face. “Sorry, lady!” he shouts, taking your gentle smile as a sign of forgiveness and racing to catch up to his friends. “Lady?” you whisper to yourself, the door creaking shut behind you, “Great, now I feel ancient.” 

Lucky for you there’s no time for an existential crisis as you’re swept into the frenzy of the video store. The walls are packed with what must be a thousand VHS tapes. Double sided displays line the aisles with hundreds more. Every one of them is some brand of horror movie with even the most obscure subgenre present. 

Black and orange streamers travel from one end of the ceiling to the next with tiny spiders dangling from them. Giant skeletons lurk in the corners guarding jack o lanterns with flickering eyes. Every year people eat it up but this year is particularly spooky. It sends a shiver down your spine when you recall why. 

“I heard they found another leg” a red haired girl says, casually smacking on a piece of bright pink bubblegum. Beside her a shorter girl files through tapes under a large bloody hand drawn sign reading SERIAL KILLERS.

“I thought they already found both of his legs. A guy can’t have three legs.”

The red haired girl shakes her head, smiling mischievously. “That is not true. I hooked up with him once. You could for sure consider that thing a third leg.” The girls break into a fit of giggles. Dodging their insensitivity, you squeeze yourself into the Monster Movie section. 

“Hey Drac” you sigh, staring up at the Dracula cutout looming over you, “I live in a town of idiots.” “You don’t mean everyone, do you?” a voice answers back with the worst Dracula impersonation you’ve ever heard. Suspicious that it isn’t coming from the cardboard cutout, you peek around to see a familiar face stocking the shelves. 

Your heart immediately begins to flutter, a blanket of warmth encompassing you. Han Jisung. If you flip through the dictionary you’ll find him under D for dreamy. The glow of the setting sun kisses his dark curly hair, making it almost sparkle. And those brown eyes, they’re so…no…keep it together. 

“That’s a terrible Dracula voice” you tease, arms folded across your chest. “I don’t know what you mean. Bleh, bleh, bleh” he carries on, pretending to bare his fangs. Now it’s you who’s giggling and you can’t stand how easily he gets you to.

“You are such a dork, Han.”

Returning to his normal voice he only shrugs, “But that’s why you’re so insanely in love with me isn’t it?”

His words intensify the heat moistening your palms. Fidgeting with the sleeves of your jean jacket, you wrack your brain for some witty response only for nonsense to tumble out. 

“No. What? I…uh…um…early.” 

Popping a copy of Megaverse Massacre 2 onto the shelf, Han raises an eyebrow at you, “Early?”

Your brain finally catches up to your mouth and you spit it out. “Uh, yeah, early. I heard you guys were closing early because of the…” 

“Body hacking psycho killer?” a voice cackles, gripping your shoulders from behind. You let out a blood curdling scream that draws the attention of a few nearby shoppers. Swinging around, your fist ready to dish out a debilitating gut punch, you come face to face with Lee Minho. You haven’t quite decided if he can be filed under “dreamy” or “asshole” yet.

Minho grins, never finding you cuter than when he’s getting on your nerves. “I’m sorry, babe. Didn’t hurt you did I?” he teases, straightening out your clothes with a gentleness you weren’t expecting. The sun’s doing that thing again. The sparkle. The glow. The radiant brown eyes searching yours, threatening to make you fall even deeper into them than you already have.

Han dips between the two of you, separating you before you rip Minho’s head off. “I’m sorry. Really. He was deprived of air in the womb. Being an asshole’s just a side effect.” 

Over Han’s shoulder Minho frowns, “Hey! Rude much?” Digging into his pocket, Han pulls out a lollipop. It’s sugar blown into the shape of a blood drenched kitchen knife. “Are you bribing me with a sugary murder weapon?” you ask, staring at it skeptically. Han flashes you a close lipped smile, his cheeks so fluffy it’d be a crime to deny him.

Snatching the lollipop you waste no time popping the wrapper off and tapping Minho on the head with it. “Hey! What was that for?” he winces, wiping lollipop residue from his head. “Sorry, babe” you grin, sucking on your tool of revenge, “Didn’t hurt you did I?” Han buries his face in his hand but it does nothing to hide the joy he takes in his best friend’s pain. 

This is nice. Laughing with someone. With them. It’s been a while since you felt this light around other people. The recent weight on you hasn’t been of some invisible boogeyman sneaking off with one of your limbs. No, your boogeyman was someone you knew well, or at least thought you did, and he’s haunted you every chance he can.

Speak of the devil…

A bell dings, drawing your attention to the door where a man in a demon mask scans the room for someone. You recognize him immediately. Those boots. Those pants. That flannel shirt you always found totally hideous on him. Your heart sinks, the lollipop in your hand tumbling to the floor.

You see Minho and Han’s hearts sink too. It’s as if they sense that any joy you’d been feeling just went down the drain that instant. Minho whispers something into Han’s ear. You can’t make out what, only the calculated tone of his voice. “Hey!” Han says, perking up again, “We’re having a movie night tonight. You should come.”

As the man in the demon mask spots you, your eyes dart back and forth between the men. “A movie night? Sure that would be…I’d like that.”

Han takes you by the hand, “Wicked. Come on, you can pick a movie from the back.” He leads you towards the backroom just as the man advances towards you. Peeking over your shoulder you spot Minho blocking his way. A quick left turn stops you from seeing what happens next, filling your vision instead with tattered old movie posters.

Passing a few of Han’s coworkers, you wave politely and they smile in return. The back room’s like a dustier, quieter version of the sales floor. The walls are still lined with tapes, only there’s no way these have been watched any time in the past decade. Through the dust you see the spine of a tape titled Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 4.

“That one” you decide, stopping dead in your tracks.

Han stops too, squinting to spot what caught your eye, “A woman of taste I see.” 

Pulling it from the shelf, he blows the dust away and hands it to you. “Only the finest for you.”

You feel that lightness again. It's easy to feel it when he smiles at you like this. Such an unexpected but welcomed sense of safety. “Han, thanks for…” you start but the surprise sensation of his lips pressed to yours makes anything you were about to say feel insignificant.

With one hand still holding yours, his other hand comes to rest on your lower back. Your lips are somehow softer than he’d imagined. Even in the absence of the lingering strawberry flavored lollipop, he knows they’d taste just as sweet. Minho’s gonna kill him when he finds out that he kissed you first but nothing could be more worth it.

“Thank me by not worrying about your ex,” he says, “He won’t bother you anymore. I promise.” 

You want to tell him how much he doesn’t understand. That your ex doesn’t give up that easily. But you decide not to ruin the moment, even if letting yourself believe him feels delusional. “Jisung, we need you up front!” one of his coworkers shouts back. He hesitates, unsure if he should leave you or not.

You kiss him first this time, turning him loose, “Go. I’ll be fine back here. Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 1-3 have gotta be rotting around here somewhere right?” One last kiss and he’s rushing back up front, clueless as to how he’s supposed to focus on anything else now.

Turning back to the shelf you realize how big of a challenge you’re in for. Maybe there’s a feather duster somewhere? Or a respirator mask?

“Give it here. That has to be wrong.” Minho approaches the kitchen counter where you sit, playfully swinging your feet. He reaches for the magazine in your hand but you clutch it tightly to your chest, refusing to fork it over.

“Live with it, Minho. You are Suspicious Boyfriend.” 

“Suspicious boyfriend” Han sings, retrieving a bag of freshly popped popcorn from the microwave, “I think it has a ring to it.”

Hopping down from the counter, you skip your way over to Han extending the magazine and the pen in your hand out to him. “Your turn, Hannie.” You see the skepticism all over his face but don’t give up. All torture must be equal after all.

“I’ll take that” Minho smiles, stealing the popcorn for himself.

“Sure. Why not?” Han surrenders, grabbing the magazine and the pen. You and Minho watch on, far more amused than you should be, as Han skims the pages checking off answers to silly personality questions. Pick a country to travel to. Pick a favorite food. Upstairs or downstairs?

After a minute or two he finishes and slides the magazine back over to you. You can barely contain yourself as you assess his results. Leaning across the counter, you share them with Minho who immediately begins to laugh. 

“What’s so funny? What did I get?” Han asks looking so genuinely concerned that you almost feel bad for telling Minho first. Minho empties the popcorn into a bright orange Halloween bowl, shoveling some into his mouth. “Comic Relief Best Friend” he mumbles. Han frowns, coming to see for himself. You hold the results page up for him. 

Which Horror Character Are You?

You point to his score beneath the headline “Comic Relief Best Friend”.

“Oh, okay. So I’m funny and I die before him. Perfect.”

“Aww, come on. Don’t be like that” you say, poking at his chin, “It’s not like I got the best result either. I’m the Final Girl.” 

“What’s so bad about that?” Minho asks, his words muffled by food, “It means you make it to the sequel.” 

“No, it means that I’m boring. Badass but boring. I wanna be the killer. They have more fun.” 

Han shakes his head, a sympathetic hand resting on your shoulder, “I hate to break it to you but you’re not really killer material.” Minho takes your hand like a doctor prepared to give you some bad news, “Yeah, you just…you don’t have it in you, kid.” 

“Don’t have it in me? I do so!” you protest, your tantrum not doing much to make you less adorable. Minho moves toward the knife rack behind him, carefully selecting the biggest, sleekest one he can find. “Okay, so kill me.” 

There’s a long, tense silence.

“Come on. It’s not that hard. Just…” Minho mimes stabbing himself in the chest, his tongue stuck out sideways. “Give it!” you shout, running to take the knife away. Minho catches you by the wrist, slipping the knife into your hand and raising the tip of the blade an inch away from his throat.

“Do it” he dares, his hand tightening around yours, “Prove us wrong.”

There’s an unnerving excitement in his eyes as he awaits your decision. An excitement that doesn’t seem to want you to back away. No, it wants you to come closer. He wants you to come closer.

“Hannie,” you plead, “Can you talk some sense into him please?” Han joins the two of you, saying nothing at first, simply observing. The way that they watch you is intensely sexual and some part of you, one you hadn’t known existed until now, seems to take pleasure in it. 

Han laughs, bringing his arms around your waist, “Oh but sweetie, we’ve played your game. Don’t you wanna play ours now?”

[drchucktingle]

tingleverse lore: tingle types

recent post on the four tingler types has got buds talkin about TINGLEVERSE LORE so i thought it would be nice time to talk on the ways of dinosaur, unicorn, bigfoot and living object, since there are some new buckaroos who are just jumpin in the tingleverse deep end OK HERE GOES

four tingle types is not something chuck just now made up it has been that way since beginning. anyway theres several layers of reality in infinite stack and the EROTIC TINGLEVERSE is a group of CLOSE layers (outside these layers is THE VOID but we dont need to talk on right now)

the HORROR TINGLEVERSE is part of the same stack but farther away. it is a separate group of layers with a few similarities to erotica layers (mainly dealing with THE VOID and the consequences of weaving timeline layers) but otherwise a different space within tingleverse stack

anyway back to the erotic layer. the thing that makes these layers unique from our own is the incursion of four sentient species which are the ones listed. i will now go over what each group encompasses because it might not be what you think

first of all, DINOSAURS is not just reptilian creatures it also means ancient mammals (sabertooths and mammoths) and even prehistoric squids and sharks

next is BIGFEET. in the tingleverse bigfeet are a broad species that also includes mothmen and jersey devils and some other cryptids. this is discussed in the the books they are featured in in more detail

UNICORNS are next. unicorns are pretty much just unicorns what the heck can i say. of all the creatures inhabiting the tingleverse they have the least variety but the most beautiful mane and i think thats worth something

last is LIVING OBJECT which a lot of buds seemed confused by in quiz. in the tingleverse, living abstracts concepts fall into the living object category because once they physically manifest they BECOME a living object. so thoughts and ideas that are sentient are living objects

LIVING OBJECT is the most broad group because it can encompass ALL THINGS. it is also the most existential of the species as i think some buckaroos discovered on the TINGLE TYPE test.

i suppose i should put link to the test here also if you do not believe this has been master plan for nearly a decade of worldbuilding rules here is an old shirt with the tingle types on it. one of first shirts chuck ever made

alright buds hope you enjoyed this tingleverse lesson. LOVE IS REAL

[chernabogs]

Monody

Inc: Malleus x Reader, with special inclusion of Malleus' grandmother, Lilia, and Sebek's mother. Warnings: Existential crisis, brief allusion to death WC: 2k+ Summary: Fae loved rarely, but when they did, it was an all or nothing event—there was no hesitation when it came to that plunge.  And this scared him.

She never remarried. When he was younger, his mind didn’t quite wrap around it as he would look up at her portrait in the palace halls. Her, and his mother—a mere child at the time—with her sombre gaze and blank expression, ungiving of any thoughts she had as the portrait was made. She was youthful herself, enough so that surely any Fae in the Valley would have sought her hand, and yet she never replaced the ring his grandfather gave her, nor did she take it off. 

What a silly move, he may have once thought. Are you not lonely? Are the ghosts not driving you away? 

Ghosts can do little to provide warmth at night, and ghosts are all that Black Scale Palace had. A skeleton court with spectres in the rafters. Once there may have been merriment and joy, but that was well before his hatching. His childhood consisted of hushed conversations in dark palace halls, faces that aged well before their time, and a heavy silence that lingered in the air. 

There’s a mausoleum for his family near the palace grounds, and it’s in this place of death that he first discovered the horrors of love. In the stagnant interior, where stone tombs with his family members' faces carved on them rest, he would hide as a child from tutors and guardians alike. The flickering of eternal flames on the wall provided enough light to see the features of those he would never meet. On newfound legs with newfound hands he would touch the face of his mother, of his grandfather, and of all those who came before, mapping them onto his own like he was trying to find a part of them in him somewhere. 

His grandmother found him there once. He expected a scolding, but instead she stood in silence, letting him explore until she finally cleared her throat to alert him of her presence. 

"This is grandfather?", he would ask her, in the innocent manner that children often do when topics of death arise. And she would nod, as he moved to the next tomb. "And this is mother?", he asked, and she would nod again, her gaze once more ungiving to the thoughts in her mind. 

"Do you miss them?"

He didn’t know loss the way she did at the time. He didn’t know the pain from losing your love, from losing your daughter, from not knowing if the last member of your family will live or not. 

"I do." He remembers her answering. She stood by the door as she spoke, as though afraid to enter further, afraid to approach the faces that she once saw with life and now only knew in dreams. "I miss them greatly."

"Why?" He had turned to look at her. Her face was washed in shadows, but her eyes—he would always remember her eyes. They were blank as she looked at him. 

"Everyone misses the ones they love when they leave us. You cannot speak with them, or hold them, or tell them how much they mean to you. All you can do is stand here—and stare."

He had turned back to the tomb of his mother, with her sombre gaze and blank expression. With features of stone she felt cold to touch, and Malleus suspected the shiver that ran up his spine was not simply because of the mausoleum's temperature. He looked back at his grandmother again, at the way she stared at the tombs that surrounded them, before he hurried to her side. 

He did not want to love, he decided then, in a rash thought fuelled by a child's fear. He did not want to be like her one day, at the entrance of a tomb alone, with only the option to stand—and stare. 

Love is for the lonely. 

_______________________________________________

He knew the Zigvolt girl from the scarce Court events that he was allowed to attend. She was much like her father—loud, with electric green hair and scales adorning her cheeks. She towered over the others with a presence that commanded attention and a laugh that drew all eyes to her when she let it free. As a child, he had found her noisy and irritating, a feeling he had commented to Lilia on more than one occasion. 

Then one day she was not there. The absence of sound, of that loud laugh and commanding tone, jarred him briefly and he had ventured to Lilia to question where the young socialite had gone. 

"Do you miss her already?" Lilia had chuckled, causing Malleus’ brow to furrow in response. 

"Is she ill?" 

Illness was the only explanation he could fathom, despite never experiencing it himself. Then he saw Lilia’s expression—a brief flash of sympathy—before it fell back to benign amusement. 

"No, not ill. But I dare say we will be seeing less of her at events of the nobility from here on out." Was all he had offered back, as frustratingly cryptic as always. 

It was through Malleus’ unspoken-of (yet highly developed) talent for eavesdropping that he gradually began to piece together the scandalous tale of the young socialite and the dental assistant she had found herself enamoured with. 

When Malleus learned the man was a human, he had decided that the Zigvolt girl was as foolish as he had suspected. Tensions still lingered with human-kind, and every Fae knew that the shortness of a human's lifespan compared to their own made relationships a ridiculous idea to pursue. Why would one wish to intentionally hurt themself by loving something that would leave them so soon? Surely the brief halcyon days that such a romance would bring would not be worth the bleakness that follows when the coffin is set in the earth? 

"She’s happy," Lilia had mused as Malleus pried into the relationship even further. "Baul, less so, but I think even he is gradually warming up to the idea."

"But why?" Malleus had asked, scowling as he did. "Why choose him when she knows he’ll die soon?"

Lilia had fixed Malleus with an unusually stern look at that. The two stood in Lilia’s cottage, facing off against each other with Malleus—in the typical teenage temperament—looking frustrated in turn. "She’s foolish."

"Love makes fools of us all." Lilia had countered then. "When you know you have found the right person, you care little for the obstacles that stand in your way. You would tear the world asunder for them. Death may end it physically, but the feeling will always remain."

"Foolish." He repeated, shaking his head and turning away. "What is the point of being so vulnerable when you know it will only last a moment?"  

He had been invited to the wedding. Although he did not go, he had been told the Zigvolt girl had radiated a joy so great that it put even the brightest of the sun's rays to shame. 

Love is for the fools. 

_______________________________________________

Ramshackle was a dorm of ruins. Even from beyond the gates, he could hear the sound of the floorboards rotting and the cement cracking under the weight of time. It was a soothing melody of decay that seemed to lighten his heart significantly whenever he passed by at night. There was something so lovely about seeing places of life now stand as monoliths in the night. 

Which is why, when he saw a light on in the window, it had irritated him deeply. At first he believed that students had crept in for a fright—something he would be more than happy to give them—until a figure had stepped out and stood on the porch, watching him. 

He stood by the iron gate, and stared right back. 

They faced off against each other for a long moment before the figure trekked down the pathway—he could hear that gaudy shuffling—and came to a stop before him. 

A human. 

A plain, rather forgetful human, who looked up at him like a child with an expression of both confusion and concern. 

The encounter had been brief, enough so that he figured he would forget about it as soon as he returned back to Diasomnia. And yet, it still lingered in his mind in the coming nights, accompanied by an odd spark of eagerness for what would happen next. 

What name shall you give me? What role shall I play? 

The gifting of a name was an intimate act often reserved for those closest to one another. He had never been close to anyone beyond family and those affiliated with them. This stranger in the night, one of curiosity and caution, would be the first he would forge this connection with. 

The name you had granted had been laughable, and it took all of his self-control not to crack a grin when you announced it with such pride at the next encounter. Your naivety was charming in a quaint, adoring manner. That was not the only aspect that drew his interest. Your resilience, your ambition, your compassion to the students around you that so greatly contrasted what he had grown up witnessing in his years at Black Scale Palace. You were refreshing. 

There was a feeling there. It unsettled him. He didn’t tell Lilia about it; rather, he secured it in a locked box in his chest, pushing it away and dismissing it as a mere interest over your willingness to be so at ease with him. Sometimes that feeling rattled around and made him feel nauseous, both with himself and with you. Other times, it was though it never existed at all. 

Things changed when he over-blotted. 

Perhaps it was a cruelty on his part to let you be exposed to the horrors and the tragedies that had plagued his homeland for so long. Perhaps a part of him craved you to know it, to know him, so you would realize that he was not the kind of person you had built up in your mind. He gave you death, and loss, and sorrow—

And in the end, you gave him forgiveness. 

He tore the world asunder like Lilia had once alluded to and you had stood through it all, your gaze never wavering, your heart never shaken. He hated it. He hated you (what a lie). He wanted to force you out of existence so that the locked box in his chest could finally be put in the ground like it deserved. He wanted to force Silver, to force Sebek, to force Lilia. The loss of control sent him spiralling because he had always, always, had that at least. 

The aftermath of it all was humbling. 

Broken words and broken apologies had poured from his lips to those who he held dear. He had met the eyes of the boys he helped raise and the man who had raised him. He had looked to you, his friend, his confidant, and perhaps something more—though the thought of that terrified him more than anything else. Black blot was soon washed away and the world began to push forward despite the rotting briar thorns that covered the land, a mausoleum of its own to the actions that occurred that night. 

He had never been to a medical ward, but he was there now, and so were you—sitting by his side, yammering on about some mundane thing that was glossing over his mind. It was on that cot that he had finally forced himself to turn and really look at you. 

A human. 

A plain, rather forgetful human. Nothing about you should have stood out for him, and yet when he looked your way, it was as though the entire world faded out except for your voice. The locked box in his chest felt heavy. He wanted to rip it out and toss it aside. 

You cannot speak with them, or hold them, or tell them how much they mean to you. All you can do is stand here—and stare. 

His grandmother’s words replayed in his mind like a broken record. Fae loved rarely, but when they did, it was an all or nothing event—there was no hesitation when it came to that plunge. 

And this scared him. 

A human. You were a human. 

How long did that give you? 60 years, maybe. 70 if you were fortunate enough. 178 years already felt like a blink of an eye for him, so surely 70 would be just as quick?

He thought about the Zigvolt girl again as he continued to listen to you talk. He had considered her foolish once, but now he realized perhaps it had been envy that he felt, rather than disdain. She had the courage to grasp on to an opportunity despite knowing that it would last only moments in her lifetime. Meanwhile here he was, silently watching you with valuable words unable to leave his throat. 

He looked away to the white ceiling above. A plain, empty space that one could lose themselves in quite easily. 

He wanted to be like the Zigvolt girl. He wanted to be like his grandmother. He wanted to be like Lilia. He wanted to tear the world asunder once more, to shield you away from death as it crept closer and closer with each night that passed. He wanted you. He wanted you, so much so that it ached in his body. 

But he couldn’t do it. Not to you, not to himself. He loved slowly, and someone like you deserved a more fulfilling experience than what he could provide in your lifetime. 

So he simply lay there, and continued to listen to you speak. 

Love is for the lonely.

Love is for the fools. 

Loving you is for someone much bolder than he.

[intheholler]

okay. i'm up to episode five now, so, by increasingly popular demand lol:

my initial thoughts about old gods of appalachia

i think it's really smart in what it relays as "appalachian horror," because this is actually what The Appalachian Gothic is supposed to give

what i mean is it's not just like the usual spoopy mythical forest/"don't investigate the noises in the woods" stuff alone. dgmw, obviously i love the urban legends

but the gothic of an area or time period needs cultural elements tied in to really make it chilling, and this does it well. it stands out in the way that it incorporates the genuine horrors of humanity in appalachia with the supernatural element everyone is drawn to about these mountains. it's very creatively done

like in the barlo, kentucky saga i am currently listening to, it's the dangerous coal mines and the near-possessed preacher turning all hellfire n brimstone at the behest of the haints. it preys (i use this word positively here) on this mix of very specific but common fears, both existential and otherwise, held by residents of the appalachian south. love it

as an aside, i love the narrator's accent because it sounds like mine :') a lifetime of code switching means mine isn't quite as strong unfortunately, but our pronunciation habits and colloquialisms are next to identical, so there manages to be this like warm and nostalgic feeling to it, too

because it's honestly so nice to hear my accent and my family's accent as a critical part of a superb story being told, and not just as a vehicle for mockery and stereotypes :')))

all in all... it is Good Shit

[ner5y]

More existential horror trio!!!

Going back to my roots babyyyyyy

DDLC 2 is totally coming out next month guys trust (<- delulu)

But seriously I am SO READY for the Welcome Home Christmas update. It is so over for me when it comes, I'm gonna be drawing funny puppets for eternity.

Doesn't mean I'll stop drawing TADC stuff! (Hootbon and sm-baby have made sure of that)

DDLC fans have been STARVING these past few years though. It sucks, but y'know, the game's run it's course.

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "You know what I've never understood?" "Oh, is it philosophy hour with [Name]?" "Not really... I just don't get how Santa could possibly know what children in the entire world are good or bad but would need to be told what kids want. Kids aren't exactly... quiet about their desires."

Pairing: Sebek Zigvolt x Gn!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff, Slight crack

TW: NA

It was a cold, silent night. Snow covered the ground like an oversized blanket, glittering under the soft silver light of the moon. Not a single critter made a noise, every soul fast asleep under the watchful and twinkling stars...

"THAT'S TOO MUCH FOOD COLORING, ACE!"

Well, almost every soul.

In the cozy warmth of the Ramshackle kitchen stood the six friends of the Ramshackle Prefect, decorating sugar cookies that they had baked earlier.

"It's fine," Ace dismissed Deuce's wide-eyed horror and Sebek's seething at the amount of food coloring he had dropped into the icing. It was an accident, but Ace was trying to play it off as an intentional action, mixing the red food coloring with a little tune on his lips.

Epel, Jack and Ortho worked together on their share of the cookies, icing them precisely and perfectly to look like little Christmas trees, while you stood at the stove, making hot chocolate for all of you to share.

"Isn't having too much food coloring bad?" Deuce asked, eyeing the way Sebek seemed to turn red with indignation at being ignored by Ace.

"Most food dyes do not cause any adverse effects, Deuce Spade-kun" Ortho answered, "though it is advised by medical professionals not to consume too much of them."

"This isn't too much. Besides, with the white icing, it'll balance out. Relax," Ace rolled his eyes.

Epel smiled as he continued decorating the cookies, while Jack helped him out silently.

The next few minutes were spent in relative peace. Mindful of the late hour, you all tried to keep your volumes down as you worked in the kitchen.

"You know what I've never understood about Christmas?" Deuce started, effectively getting everyone's attention. "Oh, is it philosophy hour with Deuce?" Jack huffed in amusement, used to Deuce's habit of asking questions that could put one in an existential crises due to their being clubmates.

"Not really... I just don't get how Santa could possibly know what children in the entire world are good or bad but would need to be told what kids want," Deuce said as he looked at the cookie he was decorating to look like a candy-cane. "Kids aren't exactly... quiet about their desires."

A silence descended onto the kitchen, as every first year looked at the blue haired boy in varying degrees of amusement, disbelief and curiosity.

"Uh, Deuce... you do know that Santa isn't real, right?" Epel asked kindly, his tone a stark contrast to the mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked at the taller boy. Deuce flushed and sputtered, "O-Of course I know! It's just-!"

Ace, ever the nuisance, jumped at the chance. "Aw, did little Deucey believe in good ol' Saint Nick all this time?" He teased. "How cute."

"That's not true!"

"There's no need to be embarrassed Deuce Spade-kun. Many young children believe in the myth of Santa Claus," Ortho tried to reassure him, but even he couldn't hide the slight amusement in his tone.

"Little Deucey, did you send your letter to the North Pole this year?" Ace laughed, poking Deuce in the side. "I hope you've been good this year. Wouldn't want you to end up on the naughty list, would you? That'd be bad for your goody two shoes record."

"Ace, you little-" Deuce began to chase the other boy around the kitchen, face flushed red with embarassment. The ginger-haired menace laughed as he weaved his way between the appliances and the people in the kitchen, using them as shields and obstacles to slow down the other boy.

He poked his tongue out at Deuce, slipping away through the kitchen door to the hallway. Deuce narrowed his eyes as he ran after him out of the kitchen, cookies and decorating forgotten.

"I'll go make sure they don't end up killing each other," Jack said, shaking his head as he followed after them. Epel skipped behind him, pulling along Ortho to see the entertaining show.

"Sebek, can you get me some cups from that cabinet over there?" You asked the only person remaining in the room. Sebek hummed in acknowledgement, getting out seven cups and placing them in front of you.

Preoccupied with pouring the steaming hot chocolate into seven cups, you missed the conflicted expression on Sebek's face. As you decorated the beverage with marshmallows and whipped cream according to each one's preferences, sounds of the boys rough-housing in the next room had you smiling in fond exasperation.

"Here, this one's yours," you said, handing Sebek his drink. Sebek thanked you, voice low and expression uncharacteristically serious. You poked his forehead with a finger, smiling as he startled and looked at you with a confused look on his face.

"You're going to end up getting wrinkles way early if you scowl that much," you teased him, leaning against the counter as you spoke. "What are you thinking about so intently anyways?"

"It is not a matter of much importance, human."

"You're blushing though."

"I-I am not!" Sebek protested. His cheeks did nothing to help his case, turning even darker instead. You raised your arms in surrender, as you chuckled at his flustered state. "Fine, fine."

You started gathering up the bowls and spoons that had been used, placing them in the dishwasher to be cleaned. Your work was done in peaceful silence, and Sebek helped with what he could, ever the gentleman.

As you wiped your hands on a towel, he spoke.

"About what Deuce said, earlier..."

"Hm?"

"That is something... I have previously wondered as well... Not that I don't know that Santa Claus is a myth made for young children!" Sebek looked everywhere but at you, evidently embarrassed by his admission. "As Malleus-sama's guard, I cannot be misled by such childish and whimsical stories, of course! I-"

"You believed in Santa Claus too?" You asked, watching in amusement as the colour in his cheeks seemed to explode, climbing up his ears as well. "I JUST SAID I DIDN'T HUMAN, WHAT-"

"I think that's cute."

Sebek stopped, eyes wide as he stared at you. You continued, "It shows that you're innocent and pure-hearted. It's really cute." Sebek looked away and took a sip of his hot chocolate, wincing when he burned his tongue by drinking too fast. Before you could tease him any further, Ace called out, "If yall are done being sappy and disgusting, save me! Wait, shit-"

The sounds coming from the other room grew louder, taking your attention off of Sebek, allowing him to regain his composure somewhat. Deuce must have finally gotten hold of Ace, considering the loud and whiny complaints that could be heard. You turned back to Sebek, shaking your head. "Wanna save Ace from the fate that he oh so rightfully deserves?"

"I would rather have him bear the consequences of his actions," Sebek smiled, as Ace wailed in protest.

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