#impending horror

[daily-gino-valentino]

Howdy! Here's your daily dose of Gino!

#blueycapsules #gino valentino #day 50 #impending horror

[kitamars]

downtime

#sorry guys the hospital yuri brainworms took me over again #it’s just. such a good time #almost makes you forget the impending horrors #maybe in a sweeter life that bubble wouldn’t need to be broken #it could just be all that there is #but for now they could still have this #and as much as that kills me what could be more wonderful than that? #fuck. i hate them #i didn’t ask for these emotions TAKE THEM BACK #you know what to say #partners (affectionately derogatory) #vash #vash the stampede #wolfwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #vash x wolfwood #vashwood #trigun #trigun maximum #ok bye

[strawberryscare]

i genuinely think this is one of the best episodes of fantasy high across the three seasons!!! such perfect storytelling rolls and the mechanics of the mystery cards were so exciting to me and you could tell the players had fun with it too :-) it was pretty short comparatively to other d20 episodes but it really packed a punch i just loved it so much

#mind you i generally feel lukewarm abt combat eps BUT I WAS ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT!!! #the impending horror of not-quite-familiar rooms #the dome art too CAIT MAY <333 #d20 #fantasy high #dimension 20 #fhjy #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers

[zikadraws]

I've made an Egg :)

(It might not be perfect but I mean it's a baby if I've ever seen one)

#working on something atm #look at it. so young and oblivious to the impending Horrors. ain't it cute <3 #anyways #splatoon #splatoon 3 #salmon run #salmonid #golden egg #crafts #grizzco

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

You know, I accept the gag reason that Shibusawa managed to get Dazai and Dostoyevsky into his weird matching custom outfits by threatening to cry in front of them.

I think if anyone started outright bawling in front of either of those two they'd completely freeze up because they are so emotionally constipated, especially if it's Shibusawa of all people.

The thought of that is more horrifying than threats of legitimate bodily harm. Idiot geniuses.

#this is my way of saying i would love to see more gag content of my favourite trio of worsties #bsd #bsd dead apple #shibusawa tatsuhiko #bsd shibusawa #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #they could've done so much with the whole they all are just waiting to backstab dynamic #an entire sitcom premise right there #but seriously #i think i'm right on the crying bit #atsushi: having a breakdown after the q incident #dazai: gently lifts head #dazai: ........??????? ah #SLAP #meanwhile fyodor sees someone crying and is just like #this is why the killing is done before the abject horror at their impending demise turns into tears

[mitskiluvr]

playing this case for the first time and seeing fresh baby faced miles edgeworth in his gilded gold getup and his goofy bangs and having my heart swell with pride as if i birthed him myself and am now watching his very first court case

#i wanted to pinch and pull his cheeks like bread dough #in this picture he is still unmarred by the horrors of the impending 3-4 case #ace attorney #miles edgeworth #mitsurugi reiji #reiji mitsurugi #aa:tot #trials and tribulations #pw:aa #t&t #trials and tribulations spoilers #is it spoilers???!!!!

[quietwingsinthesky]

1 or 34 for the master pls thank u :333!!!!!!!

extremely funny to me how quickly this got away from me alsjfjfkskkdj. i started thinking too hard about okay but Who could bring the master to his knees. the doctor? hey wait remember that time ten had a god complex for a little bit. what if he got worse about that, actually. and then it just kept going-

This is not the Doctor whose arms he died in.

Oh, the face is the same, but the eyes are all wrong. Still ancient, as old as the Master is, but they’ve gone hard like bone. He doesn’t spare a glance around the room at the cowering scientists or the politician that wanted to use the Master, who gave him such easy access to a perfect plan before the Doctor landed his TARDIS on top of the machine and crushed it. Only to one human, the one assigned to hold the Master’s leash.

“Give him to me,” he says. The Master curls his fingers. A step closer, and he’ll let the Doctor taste lightning again.

His assigned guard all but throws the leash at the Doctor. (They’re all terrified. Something’s… wrong, there. Not a misplaced sympathy of his own — let them fear their betters — but it’s the Doctor, it’s how he ignores them, how he holds himself like. He looks every bit a Time Lord.) The Doctor catches it, turns it in his hand, and yanks. The Master feigns a stumble, energy surging through his skin and bones, rattling up dangerously until-

The Doctor pulls harder, knocking him off-balance and to his knees. He twists, but there’s a hand in his hair, painfully dragging his head back until his neck screams in pain. The pinprick of a needle is barely a whisper above it, but the sluggish cold that spreads from the injection spreads no matter how he struggles. The Doctor grips his hair tighter.

“There. You’re stabilized,” the Doctor notes. The Master pants, his limbs growing heavier. “And sedated. You have to be so difficult.” For the first time, the Doctor’s voice falters from the detached tone he’s taken so far. It’s harsh, as thick with accusation as with self-reproach, “I asked you to come with me.” The Master is having a hard time ordering his thoughts. They stretch too far for him to see the whole of them, his sense of time and of himself going numb.

“How?” he lands on, more important than any other question. The Doctor’s grip begins to loosen, letting his head sag forward. His body wants to follow. His vision of the floor he’s kneeling on blurs.

“You were living on borrowed time,” the Doctor says. “I have all of it to work with at my fingertips. When I saw you again…” There’s the absent trail of fingers through his hair. The Master recoils from it instinctively, though that sends him further down, barely holding himself up on his hands. The collar draws tight around his throat when he falls, forcing out a gasp, but it loosens again. “It only took a few decades. I’d have given more to you.” The Master lifts his hand, slowly, and forces it out in front of him. It’s humiliating to crawl, but his limbs can barely keep his weight. He barely moves himself forward a few inches before the collar is a hard barrier against his breath again, and this time, he doesn’t receive any slack. He has to scoot back towards the Doctor.

“You’re going to live,” the Doctor says, without mercy. He steps around the Master, the leash dragging along the floor with a mocking hiss.

“And the rest of you,” the Doctor’s voice grows louder. It becomes a proclamation, a warning. “I won’t hurt you. It’s a stupid and dangerous thing you were doing, but that’s… that’s what you love most, humans. Stupid, dangerous things.” Where’s the sickening fondness, the Master wonders. Where’s the disappointment, even, in his favorite pet species? All he can hear in the Doctor’s voice is carefully controlled anger. “I’m not going to hurt you for putting the whole world in danger,” he repeats, as though he’s reminding himself of that fact, and then, the Master can hear him smile. Regeneration after regeneration, and the Doctor always talks different when he’s smiling. “I don’t have to. If you ever try anything like this again, you won’t have existed in the first place to come up with the idea. I will take you out of this timeline.” He pauses. “Or maybe I’ll just make you kinder. Buy you a coffee on a bad day and change your life forever. You can exist, just not like this.”

He sounds powerful, and worse, he doesn’t sound scared of it. The Master uses the last of his strength to drag himself back up to his knees. The Doctor is surveying the room, memorizing faces, lost in thought about time to tamper with. The Master puts a hand around his own leash. He tries to pull.

All that does is get the Doctor’s attention.

His eyes. The Master is afraid of his eyes.

“Sorry,” the Doctor says, “I’m not going to carry you. You’ll have to crawl.” The Master is searching for anything familiar in him. And what there is, what little there is that he recognizes, is only because of how easily he could have seen it in a mirror instead. “If you pass out, I’ll drag you,” the Doctor offers like a compromise. He turns away from the Master, snaps his fingers, and the doors to the TARDIS burst open.

He takes the Master prisoner. He saves the world. They are both, after all, the Doctor’s alone to decide what to do with.

[whump prompt]

#(points at the doctor) oh he’s a little fucked up actually #silly time lord eldritch horror of a man. he gets to decide how timelines go <3 he gets to erase people or change them forever if he feels #like it <3 he can swallow up decades and decades in isolation figuring out how to subdue the master <3 #(i do find it funny how often the show has to ditch the tardis because the obvious answer to any impending crisis otherwise would be ‘the #doctor gets in his time machine box and goes to another time to come up with a solution for as long as he needs to and then comes back #seconds after leaving with his solution in hand.’ untapped potential horrors in this idea.) #anyway. time lord victorious ten. my silly little god complex guy <3 #doctor who #the doctor #the master #i dont know if i should tag this as shippy because its not except in the ways that it is. #kinda gay to drag your best enemy along on a leash because he died to spite you before so you drugged him so much that he can’t fight you #when you save him this time #fanfiction

[smokewars]

one hokma line that always really stuck w me was "when i no longer feared the impending night, i chose to love this place" theres just something so poignant about it. at first i was wondering what day he meant but now i realise he's most definitely talking about how he has to die every reset. and he said he used to fear it too. how could he not? he was most loyal to a, but now he's the last one running away from him. he couldn't stand being a part of his self-destructive plan anymore. and feared in past tense implied he always knew it was coming with each reset. this went on for... thousands of years

with how he keeps his memories for every one of them, sometimes i wonder how he reacts to angela. do you think he quickly got used to it and just sat there waiting for her? pre-suppression its pretty clear that hokma has resigned himself to this and is completely fine doing it over and over again. he chose to love that place because it was the only thing he could really do. its what his mentor wanted and when has he ever gone against that?

#lobotomy corporation #hokma #not including it in the post bc idk where to fit it but angela apologising b4 killing him and saying its what her creator ordered her 2 do #is fucking MISERABLE. and a never even seeing b's final moments until abel forcibly showed it to him. he ignored it and turned a blind eye #to it like he does w everything.. like thats how b's treated for his unconditional love 4 him. being ordered 2 die by the man he loved #anyway. ignoring the impending night / impending day parallels that are probably there somewhere.. #there r other things i wonder too like did b know that by not running away far enough he'd die? i really do need 2 rewatch ruina #hey edit i just realised something so obvious. b dies bc of the tt2 protocol. hokma has to command that in the facility. god okay.... #and like. also wouldnt it have to be him who manually resets every single loop? everyday the horrors get worse and worse #text #meta

[rainbowchewynuggets]

TMA Encore #15

Everything feels smaller and emptier now. Further away than ever.

Jon spends a long time looking for Martin, calling his name. He hasn’t heard anything back. He feels like he’s being wrung out like a rag as the Entities revoke their favor in him. His head hurts terribly.

There’s a grinding sound rising behind him. As he zig zags around in search and the sound steadily grows, he starts getting scared that he’ll never find Martin. That something happened to him.

Jon finally feels his hand brush something warm. Martin’s hand. He turns around and clasps it as it clasps at his. They can hear each other. See each other. They’re relieved to see the other alright.

They decide to go look for the others. On the way, Jon retells his revelation to Martin, who listens intently.

They get interrupted by the grinding sound catching up, and the terrain pounces on them to drive them further away from Not-Jon. As they run, they encounter many branching paths. Rather than agonizing over which are right and which could lead them to worse traps, Martin suggests that they not overthink it and just pick the ones that appear to be the best choice based on the information they have in hand. Jon’s stomach turns, but he agrees. He refuses to grant the enigma his doubt and indecision. He squeezes Martin’s hand and lets him pick the lane.

Their method proves true. They quickly escape the upheaving terrain and–amazingly–find Tim and Sasha.

~

The two are aghast to see Jon and Martin in one piece each. The boys don’t have much of a plan for the moment, but they want the two of them to come along before the landscape catches up. Tim and Sasha hesitate.

Martin: What’s the matter?

Tim and Sasha have the grace not to let Jon know that they heard his tape, but they ask if he detonated the TNT after he split off in the tunnels.

Only then does Jon’s stifled memory resurface. He saw the blast from halfway down the tower shaft. The explosion had reached him before the emerging hellscape did. He remembers the scorching and crushing pressure. They all remember.

None of them could have survived. They’ve been fabrications within the Entities’ sphere of influence the entire time. It could explain why Jon and Martin’s avatar status progressed so quickly and why it has gone back out with the tide. Their minds have been kneaded so that they couldn’t realize it on their own, even as they clambered over the wreckage that killed them.

It’s a deflating revelation. If any of them manage to escape, there’s no telling how much of what they do will directly serve the Fears. Even without Jonah, the Institute, or the Mother of Puppets in play, their fates are still not their own. At the same time, how can they throw away the hard-won revelation that they do–no matter how small–have agency here? At least enough to walk away, to refuse to act. It could make all the difference, and it’s certainly more than Not-Jon has shown himself to have.

They talk it out.

There are two options. They could stay here as the creature digs his way out in hopes of not spreading the Extinction themselves. There’s a chance he’ll die here, leaving the rest of them to handle the hunger until they too pass away. If Not-Jon escapes or Not-Martin succeeds him, they’d be difficult to stop. Or, the group could try to monitor their manipulation and escape, themselves. If they’re fast, they might be able to trap the doubles before they get out–assuming that they won’t invent a reason not to.

The safest thing to do from there would be to avoid involvement with any other rituals or disturbing activity, no matter the circumstance. It would be too much of a risk to participate, even with good intentions. As much as they’d all love to put this behind them, the probability of actually doing it with how much they know seems… unlikely. There’s a good chance they’ll inherit the full brunt of the hunger.

On the other hand, how can they justify not acting on their knowledge of the Entities in some way? They could, as Not-Jon had said, save lives.

It could all be part of the Fears’ plan to have them escape, Tim argues. But then, what about the plan to have Jon take over? It’s possible for them to have two plans, Sasha simply replies. 

Jon explains that the Fears have no plan. He saw it himself–they’re creatures with as abstract a concept of their prey as their prey has of them. Avatars make plans on behalf of the Fears’ desires. Even if their motivations are somewhat influenced, they aren’t being “puppeted”. Martin agrees. If the Fears had that kind of control, they would have won already. As long as the four of them try to stay actively aware of their impulses and shortcomings, they might be alright.

Sasha asserts that it won’t be that simple. They just destroyed a massive site of power and became part of an irritant to residing avatars. Trouble’s going to seek them out.

Sasha: For all we know, they’re already on top of us out there.

Martin: Or it’s been no time at all. There’s no way to know how much time has passed in the real world.

Tim: I guess we could just bolt and hope they never find us. The avatars wouldn’t necessarily know what we are just because they get headrush when we happen to pass by.

The other three perk up in surprise at Tim’s comment.

Tim: That doesn’t mean I agree. I still don’t think we'd be able to keep it together out there.

They continue to debate the same points for some time with no consensus. There will be massive risks no matter what they do. The near certainty of failure burns in the back of Jon’s mind. The possibilities nag and bite.

His attention drifts, tracing a path back the way they came.

He knows he could still corner the creature if he tried.

Martin: Jon. Jon.

Jon stops staring off.

Jon: Right, sorry. What were you saying?

Sasha: We can’t agree on going. But we’re willing to… try it. We try to find a way out without letting the place get to us.

Martin: Which might work better this time if we know what we’re doing.

Tim: And if we can’t do it, we stay.

Jon rubs his neck.

Martin: You don’t think we should do it.

Jon: No. But that probably means we should go for it.

Utilizing a mix of Sasha and Tim’s methods and Jon and Martin’s methods of counteracting the hellscape, they begin trying to find their way out. If they’re lucky, they might find the hole in the wall from before–or some other loose trapping that could be pried apart as the hellscape twists itself tighter and tighter around them. The wet parts are starting to dry, making them brittle.

They can’t find a stable path, of course. The journey quickly becomes intimidating, and the environment punishes that to the fullest extent of its ability. It’s grueling and frustrating and never seems to get them any closer to their goal. Jon constantly has to fight the impulse to abandon the others, especially as the Fears descend upon him to remind him of what they want. But he stays. He fights not to pry, but the same thing is happening to the other three inside their heads. And they stay. They face their obstacles and the danger they pose head-on, with the unfounded certainty that they can handle it. It becomes a kind of shared psychosis. Their blind faith allows them to put more trust in each other, which bolsters their fluidity as a team. That trust only deepens with time. Their mission demands it, as their exit eludes them for days, weeks, an eternity. They never escape, but they survive.

~

Not-Martin watches from afar with the burgeoning sight of the Eye. Long invasive fingers pull at his consciousness, seeking refuge from the rapidly decaying vessel they chose, used, and have wasted. Not-Martin knows that it’s happening at some level, but he can’t really feel it.

He had tried hard to stay in his cell. But there he was, outside of it, once again steeling his nerves to kill his partner a second time and looking for something sharp. That is, until the group caught his attention.

Hearing their discussion felt like white noise at first. It took a while for the meaning to sink in. He watched as they shakily put their theory into action. Without the paralyzing logic of the enigma in play, they seem more... themselves. Not that he really remembers what that means.

Not-Martin fully expects them to fail. To give in, to be crushed or show signs of insidious sway.

The group continues to evade the hideous alien presence that now saturates the very fiber of their being. Of his being. He keeps watching, a motionless phantom waiting for its grim reality to reach the foolish occupants of the haunted wreckage.

It always happens. Why would this time be any different?

As time passes, the definitive proof of this radical solution that he knows won’t arrive doesn’t arrive. The group falters. They fall apart.

Not-Martin lets out a deep sigh. He hadn’t noticed himself tense up.

He catches himself hesitating  to move on as the victims of the enigma languish in tatters.

Knock it off, he thinks. He shouldn’t be drinking this in. He has work to do.

But before he can tear himself away, the members of the team change their scattered course. Slowly, difficultly, they come back together and start again. Their observer counts their inches of progress as they face their first obstacle. They fail to be defeated, moving on to the next. Their quest is the same as before, with its tiny little victories. Only now, Not-Martin isn’t watching for failure.

A nagging feeling prompts him to wonder why.

His punishing journey has taught him that the only way to progress against the Fears is not to care what happens next. These four people fighting tooth and nail to see an uncertain future reawakens a piece of him he’d been trying to kill for ages–something he had set out with into the unknown, but had had to leave behind in order to continue.

That piece remembers how repulsive the Lonely feels. It’s the part of him that felt something at seeing the passions of others reflected in himself, despite his isolation. The desire to realize his own passions despite the dread that always held him back.

Life. His life.

He’s been dead for so long, the remains of a failure long ago. But now, he feels acutely aware that he’s still here. Still acting. Just as they are.

How much of that time has he spent trying to destroy himself? Watching his partner destroy himself? For what? They still became part of the trap. Betrayed the promise they had made to defy evil that had threatened to swallow them. The future he had hoped for that had carried him out of the Lonely’s shore and through the apocalypse.

One way or another. Together.

But it isn’t over yet. They’re still here. They still have that promise to keep. They could still have that future, however brief. They could be themselves again.

And the thought of that, looking at where he is, nearly scares him to death.

Not-Martin feels something burn inside a frozen hollow place that grew over the years of detachment. It’s barely there, but a drop of warmth feels like a fire when you’ve become accustomed to the deepest cold.

It’s so hot, he falls to his knees with tears in his eyes.

He clutches his chest, desperately trying to hold on to the precious feeling as instinct tries to force it back.

He feels paper-thin, like he could expire in the breeze.

Nevertheless, he gets to his feet and sets off toward the root of the island, high above him.

The creature slithering and scraping in the darkness below him answers without pausing.

NJ: Go back, Martin. It’s almost over.

Not-Martin–or just Martin, here–can’t find it in him to argue, looking at the circumstances. He’s too winded from the climb anyway. He settles back against an outcropping of busted wood.

Jon notices the lack of response, but only turns his head for a moment as he tears at the last of the rubble with unraveling hands.

The shade on the ridge sits silently. There are arguments he knows he needs to make and vanishingly little time to make them, but he suddenly can’t find the will. It’s all he can do to hold on to his warmth as it drains the cold determination that was preserving his inertia.

Below, the shrapnel flays away more of what’s left of his partner with each stroke. It kills him to watch. He looks away, but it kills him all the same.

To his surprise, Jon slows to a stop and speaks first.

NJ: Have you seen what the others are up to?

Martin picks himself up a bit to answer.

NM: Yeah. I was surprised, but it seems to be working so far.

NJ: They’re persistent, I’ll give them that.

He sighs tiredly.

NJ: Still can’t risk letting them out, though.

NM: They kind of make me miss the old days. Never thought I’d say that.

Jon makes a haggard noise that he thinks might have been a chuckle. A long silence follows.

NJ: I miss the way we used to be, too. I’d nearly forgotten.

His voice is quiet and fragile with regret. Martin can barely hear it.

NM: It’s working, Jon…

NJ: For how long?

Nothing.

Martin’s guard drops, and his partner can feel what’s going on inside him.

Jon turns himself around in the pit with concern. His many green eyes wink up from the darkness.

NJ: Martin, what did you do?

His voice is alarmed, and it wakes Martin up.

NM: I’m letting it go. The whole plan. I don’t… I don’t want this anymore. I want us to make it through this. It doesn’t have to be the end yet.

NJ: It’s too late for that. You’re going to get killed if you turn back now.

NM: No. I’ll be fine. They’re right, Jon. Neither of us are going to pull off what we’re trying to do. The Fears only have more of us the more we think we’re pulling away.

NJ: It’ll be even worse if we give up. We can’t just unleash this thing.

NM: We don’t have to give up, either. I was wrong. This is how the Entities win, Jon. It’s how they always win. It’s our fear. We play their games and fall right into their hands because we’re scared of what’s going to happen. So this time, why don’t we just go on and find out? Maybe we can try to get back a little of what we’ve lost while we’re at it.

The man within the creature can feel the meaning of the words. Emptiness reawakens with longing for all the things that both of them were so committed to think weren’t possible for them.

NJ: How can you believe that?

NM: I don’t. But we don’t have to. We’ll just do it anyway.

NJ: Martin, stop.

He feels weaker by the second.

NM: We promised. This is our last chance.

His partner extends a hand toward the pit.

NM: I can’t come down and get you this time. You have to come up.

Jon hesitates.

They’re right there. Just behind the door.

They knock again.

The rapping of Their fingers shakes the tenuous shape of the wreckage loose. Martin falls, followed by a crunch.

NM: I’m–I’m stuck.

Jon knows. Pain. Blood. The cuts are deep. His partner is going to die.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The creature is paralyzed, the consequences of loss and failure shrieking at each other at the forefront of his mind.

It’s happening again. He has to choose. If he shares the burden with Martin, it would relieve the vulnerability. Martin will live, sustained only by the maddening burden of Jon’s mistakes–and so will the Fears. If he leaves, Martin will die. No matter which he chooses, he’s still being drawn forward by fear.

Jon has never been more sick of it.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sound of screeching, straining metal echoes up from the pit.

Martin: Jon?

Jon’s knifelike fingers claw at the rubble, showering him with brick and glass. The components that lead into his back–buried deep in the remains of the Institute, connected to beings beyond reason–drag behind him like an anvil. Partway up the climb, still far from his partner, he runs out of leash. He pulls with the final ounce of strength that never seems to leave him to hoist the entire mess upward, but he only ends up breaking some of what’s holding him together. It falls and clatters in the darkness.

This will destroy him. He knows it.

Martin: Jon, can you hear me?

Jon: I hear you. I’m coming. Just keep talking to me.

The certainty of defeat has sobered his panic.

Martin: You remember the cabin?

Jon: Before or after I read the mail?

Martin: ^smiles^ Before.

The wreck comes loose, and Jon slides down.

Jon: I remember getting stranded on the road the night we got there. We had to walk to the nearest town. It was terrible.

He starts up again and loses more parts.

Martin: Yeah. It wasn’t so bad, though, looking back.

Jon: Well, not compared to the walking we did after the cabin.

Martin: That doesn’t seem as bad either, now. There… there’s a lot I don’t regret about the times we’ve had to go back. Or the time we spent driving each other up the wall at the Institute. I think I could do it all again if you were there with me.

Jon: ...I would too.

Martin doesn’t seem to hear him.

Despite it all, Jon aches to walk straight into the eye of the abyss with Martin’s hand in his again. Even though they’ll fall apart. He wants it more than anything.

He just has to make it a little further.

Something yanks him downward. He clings as tightly as he can and cranes his head back to see the speck where Martin is. With that movement, he snaps a crucial thread holding him together. Layers of his horrible body separate with each movement. He burns, the foul soil in his chest smoldering to dust. He doesn’t care.

He keeps moving. Just a little further.

His hands fall away on contact, leaving weak spindly limbs of armature to climb with. His body is a tangle of loose snares that rapidly shakes apart. Cords and ventricles tangle and burst. The tether that leads back down into the dark remains intact as the creature is left with less and less of himself for ignoring his keepers. The pain reaches new unbearable heights. Pieces continue to fall as he slowly climbs.

Martin hears the clatter come closer, even as it grows thinner. Gasps and shudders echo up the walls of the heap. He stretches his best arm downward as Jon reaches up.

————

Next

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Index

#the magnus archives #mag200 spoilers #magnus pod #tma fancomic #tma encore 15 #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #tim stoker #cw body horror #cw mutilation #cw impending death #not jon #not!jon #not martin #not!martin #not-jon #not-martin

[mishima-in-places-he-shouldnt-be]

mishima shouldn't be in the art gallery from ib

Kazumi Mishima shouldn't be in the Guertena Art Gallery from Ib.

He also shouldn't have jumped into that weird painting back there and gone this far..... Oh god.

#Mishima In Places He Shouldn't Be #Code Red: Mishima in Impending Danger #your turn to die #yttd #kazumi mishima #ib #ib game #ib rpgmaker #rpgmaker horror

[earl-grey-love]

Okay but why do I have post-apocalyptic survival dreams literally every single night? I've been having them for 2 months straight. No clue where they're coming from because I'm not interacting with any media like that.

They usually include my f/os too like I'm trying to lead them to safety through endless abandoned spaces and countryside. It's creepy.

#like last night I was with Mephi and Sol and we were scouting for a new place to bring everyone else to to camp #and we sat down on a grassy hill at sunset to rest for the night #and I started blowing bubbles I'd found during the day to cheer them both up #it was nice despite the tension of impending doom #there's also never any clear enemies in the dreams just a permanent sense of threat #sunny speaks #tw nightmares #tw horror

[calebvanponeisen]

STARGAZE

Looking up at the night sky, I spot an unfamiliar bright star. It rapidly grows larger, and the moment I realize what it is, nothing matters anymore.

#horror #creepy #twosentencehorrorstories #horrorshorts #twosentencehorrorstory #twosentencehorror #horrorshortstory #stargazer #stargazing #impendingdoom #impending #meteorshower #meteorite

[hellbatschilt]

Roseate Desire Hellbat, and Hole-In-The-Man YW SI :^) (what they're based on under the cut)

#hellba(r)t #hellbat grimsbane tag #yw si tag #body horror ? #jic i don't think the second ego corrosion is bad but you know #been thinking about these all day lol i drew the hellbat last night but cleaned it up a bit and drew yw si today #at first was gonna draw hellbat with a bunch of the ego corrosions (was gonna do impending day and capote as well) - #- but then i remember the unused meur ego (which i'm hoping they release eventually) and thought 'wow this is perfect for my yw si' #also no ribbons going down from hellbat's wrists because i forgot at first and then i couldn't get them how i wanted to after #these were actually a lot of fun to draw! #sorry for usually drawing my self inserts but also please enjoy them :^) those are my little guys #*shows you guys who are going through it* #well hellbat is already like that but my yw si... oof

[morimementa]

I had the most wonderful dream a few nights ago about Welcome Home and I would like to share with you all because I am a nerd.

Eddie delivered a package to Frank's, only for them to realize it was addressed to both of them. The box is full of fabric and sewing supplies. They showed it to Poppy and Wally who explained that it was a kit to make themselves a baby and they could choose whether or not to make one. Frank expressed confusion as to how Wally knew that.

Wally: I thought everybody knew that...*confused face*

Of course, they set to work on sewing. Partway through, Frank gets emotional because What If? What if they can't be perfect, just so parents for her?! Eddie is quick to reassure him that no parent is perfect, but they're going to do their best and everything will be great!

In the end they have a little baby girl made and I remember them holding her when she blinked and then came to life!

It was so precious! I just want good things for them...

#welcome home #text post #dreams #frank frankly #eddie dear #cute #what impending horror? What black mold? This is just a cute puppet show with cute gay puppets! #I think I caught a peek into a universe where Welcome Home is a slice of life show #and homophobia doesn't exist #it was nice

[thenightisland]

i've only had nona for thirty minutes and i would protect her with my life epitome of beautiful cinnamon role too good for this world too pure

#karen liveblogs books #i hope she gets to have her birthday party #<-- words of someone filled with a sense of impending doom #about whatever Horrors are sure to befall this girl

[danthediamondminecart]

Sorry for not posting much art, I’ve been dealing with the horrors.*

Anyway, so I started reading From The Archives and my hyper fixated brain said “hey. RB Battles/TMA AU”. And unfortunately for me, I’ve been brainrotting on it since. And so, I present, possibly the most cursed TMA AU you ever did see.

Here’s our ‘Arc 1’ archival staff, Head Archivist Kreek Craft and his assistants Devoun Monarch, Denis Daily and Night-Foxx Nebula! They’re about to receive Endless Suffering.

Maybe one day I will show more of this au. I have two fics and two fake fic book cover things. Maybe.

#the horrors being wrist problems and also impending important exams #rb battles #kreekcraft #devoun #denisdaily #nightfoxx #roblox battles #roblox #roblox au #roblox yt #roblox youtuber #dare I tag this as TMA? #the magnus archives au #no further than that! #yandan draws #rbb #TMA au #rbb tma au #welcome to the Robloxian paranormal institute #< that’s the name of the au’