#Horror(ible)

[thehauntedrocket]

The Horror(ible) Art Of Frank Frazetta

[browsethestacks]

The Horror(ible) Covers Of Atlas Comics

[the-prince-of-pink]

I love this goober with my whole horror-ible heart <3

[gaylienz]

i want a sherlock holmes horror movie….the closest thing i can think of are the Awakening games inspired by Lovecraft…i guess every murder they investigate could be considered horror-ible but i think it’d be neat to see them covered in blood and their abilities tested in an extreme survival scenario ~

[revenant-coining]

Servahensic

[pt: Servahensic /end pt]

[ids: 2 rectangular flags with 6 equally-sized vertical lines with a thick line in the middle. colors in this order from left to right: dark brown, brown, dull green-yellow, pale blue-green, dull green-yellow, brown, dark brown. in the center of the first flag is a dark brown network fork symbol, outlined in dull green-yellow. /end ids]

Servahensic; an angelettric in nature (ANLTIN) gender connected to chaotic & glitchy tech, AIs, sentient AIs, the game Observation, & incomprehensible horror.

etymology; (ob)serva(tion), (incompre)hens(ible), “ic” meaning of or pertaining to

don’t tag as xenogender!

tagging; @radiomogai , @thecoffeecrew404 , @en8y

[id: a dark blue line divider. /end id]

[theanxiousghostartist]

I also did #actuallyinfected2024

this year, hosted by @/ actuallyrea

or GinjaNinjaOwO on Yt!

Day 1- Marker bleed - a

double-sided drawing of my OC,

Valentino using Alcohol Markers!

(Tw- injuries)

Day 2 - Corrupted file - a spooky

illustration based on one of my old

drawings that kept crashing while I

was drawing, done in IBIS Paint X

on my phone.

Day 3 Misprint - a digital drawing

done in IBIS Paint X on my phone

with my OC Unmei inspired by my

printer's past misprints.

Day 4 - Scrapped - an animatic that

I made on my Ipad (my finger is my

stylus there as well G) ft. Gertrude

Robinson from TMA to Mrs.

Robinson from Simon & Garfunkel

Animatic Link (animatic not

pictured)

Day 5 - Spilled Ink - a traditional

drawing using acrylic inks and

watercolors to create a spooky

drawing (tw for implied blood)

Day 6 Analog film - a digital

redrawing in IBIS Paint x on my

phone of one of my past developed

film images

Day 7 - Broken model - a digital

drawing based on a funky model I

made in justsketch.me that's TMA

fanart for Helen Richardson's

Becoming! TW - eyestrain, body

horror

Day 8 - Tangled thread - a digital

drawing on IBIS Paint X on my

phone featuring my OCs Fuun,

Unmei, and Obake and their

intertwining fates.

Day 9 Blue screen - a digital

drawing done in IBlS Paint X on my

phone that's fanart for John

Watson from Sherlock & Co.

Day 10 - Anomalies - a digital

drawing done in IBIS Paint X on my

phone that's fanart for The

Gentleman from Hell! Tw - guns

[alexparr]

Circle and Pinhead - Horror-ible

Horror movies aren't exactly a Halloween tradition for Circle and Pinhead.

[happi-speech]

Get somebody from the Deep South to say

Jewlery

Brewery

Rural

Bureau

Burry

Terrible

Immature

Dirt

Hurt

Road

Aaron

Burnt

Horror

Scared

And you're likely to hear

Jrr-y

Brr-wery

Rrrl

Brr-oh

Brr-y

Trr-ible

Imma-toor

Dut

Hut

Ro-ed

Rrn

Bunt

Horr

Skerrd

[siphonophoresupernumerary]

Oh! I'd forgotten how horror-ible it was, I found it really cool and kinda beautiful

So a while back you made a post about the flattest frog, and it proceeded to go like this for me:

"Teehee, what a silly looking guy! I would like to learn more about them!"

*looks up more pictures*

"Oh......oh no. Hmmm. Nope. Done with that."

(I will say that I respect and love nature in all its possibilities, even the ones I don't particularly like. It just really tested that, lol)

Thank you for your work to share your knowledge and also wonderful frog pictures. 🐸 💕

Yeah so actually part of the reason my recent posts mentioning Pipa pipa have not featured discussion of its reproductive mode, and why I didn’t choose it to represent the Horror genre in my fiction genre list, is that I know it makes some people deeply uncomfortable. Also, because I feel like it’s quite common knowledge what Pipa pipa does, and what I’d really like to do is introduce the People of Tumblr to frogs and other herps they’ve never heard of before, or to other aspects of its morphology and ecology than just the reproductive mode. Not that I won’t make posts about Pipa reproduction in the future! I definitely will. I just don’t want to focus on it right now, because I think there are other things of similar or greater interest.

Sorry for not warning about what a Google search would yield. For anyone curious, please see this as a fair trypophobia warning.

[greengoblinswifey]

eddie munson x reader? mommy kink included please. they're at a movie theatre while Lucas and Erica, reader's iblings are a few rows in front

oh Lord, I love this- remember to like, comment and reblog <3 requests are wide open like my legs for Eddie!

Eddie Munson x Sinclair!Reader

Warnings: Public sex, Riding, Creampie, Cock Warming, Mommy Kink, Unprotected Sex.

Much to Eddie's obliviousness, you were seated at the very back of the theater while your siblings were a few rows in front.

He didn't think you'd do anything in public considering he was very vocal but he thought wrong.

It started with the little circles you began drawing on his thigh, he didn't think anything of it, he just smiled at you and kissed your hand. Then, your hand began travelling further, and further until it was right in front of his crotch.

You could hear his breathing become heavier, even over the loud speakers of the movie. His eyes averted to your hands, to Lucas and Erica in front then to your eyes that were on the screen. With your eyes innocently on the movie, your placed your hand on his crotch and began palming it.

In that moment, he thanked the Lord that you were the only ones at the back of the theater.

"W-what are you doing?" he stuttered.

"Nothing."

He sighed at your innocent response and tried to focus on anything but your hand rubbing his cock through his jeans.

You turned his head to you with your finger, batting your eyelashes innocently before pressing your lips against his. When he opened his mouth to protest, you slipped your tongue in.

"Lucas, do you hear that?" Erica asked.

He shook his head and she turned around, finding you making out with Eddie.

She spun her head around just as quickly as she did to look at you. As soon as she wasn't looking, you straddled Eddie's lap, and he quickly broke the kiss in a panic.

"We can't, I- I'm too loud and anyone could see," he pleaded.

"Then shut up," you whispered in his ear.

You stood up, and unbuckled his jeans much to his horror but he didn't protest anymore. He was painfully hard and he wanted it just as much as you did.

You wore a mini skirt with no panties underneath for easy access. After pulling his cock out, you sat down on it, with your back flush against his chest. To anyone who turned around, you'd just be seen as a cute, handsy couple.

He gasped at the sudden warmth and wetness. "M-mommy," his shaky voice whimpered.

You involuntarily clenched around him, making his head fall back against the back of the chair. He used the hair tie on his hand to put your braids in a ponytail and left wet kisses on your neck.

"Hold mommy's hips will you," you said.

You didn't bounce, not wanting it to be too obvious, only rolling your hips which felt just as good.

"Such a good boy, letting mommy fuck you like this where anyone can see.So fucking filthy, but so good," you chuckled.

He was so lost in pleasure he couldn't even keep his eyes open. All he was able to do was moan as softly as he could and babble nonsense.

"You're so cute," you praised and turned around to plant a kiss on the lips.

"God, can you guys not kiss and watch the movie for one second? You make me sick!" Erica whisper shouted. Lucas focused on the screen, not wanting to see his older sister in any compromising position.

Eddie's eyes shot open and his breathing became ragged again.

When she turned around, you laughed at him.

"You're so cute when you're scared, she doesn't suspect a thing baby. Now do some work, fuck me," you said.

He reluctantly tightened his grip on your hips and began thrusting up into you slowly, hitting all the right spots deep inside you.

Strangled groans and moans left his lips, and it sent a sensation down to your dripping pussy.

"Mommy, touch yourself. Want you to cum for me," he whined.

Dipping your hand into your skirt, you began rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves.

Your tiny whimpers encouraged him and he picked up his pace, thrusting up into you and kissing your neck.

"Cum for me, cum inside me. Show me that you're a good boy," you whispered.

He bit down on your shoulder, muffling his moans as his hips stuttered and he let his warm seed fill you to the brim.

Your orgasm followed right after and it trailed down the base of his cock, making his eyes roll into the back of his head.

He wrapped his hands around your torso and rested his head against your back.

"We're only 40 minutes into the movie and it's 2 hours long. You know what that means," you smirked.

[naanqueen]

I have a new voxman head canon it's sad

So in my opinion people have all way's look down on box and he became a villains because he was tired of it and that make Shadowy venomous even more horror-ible he finally have someone how sees him as a presence and then they live him of the first bit of power they cud git but hay they git married and venomous will never take boxman of granted again.

[browsethestacks]

The Horror(ible) Memory Of Laundry Days Gone By...

[eleanor-is-fine]

This episode is horror-ible.

RQG 44 Rock Bottom … Sasha and Hamid trying to survive, Lydia and Bryn missing the rest of the party

[3k626ekful7ozxujar43keiw236in2h]

Do u ever get that urgent feeling that u gotta be careful cus u got smth important on your clipboard but u dont even remember so u paste to see and its smth totally useless its like technology deja vu

[hcrxtio]

𝖄ou carried a different name when you were a child. it didn’t fit you, you know that now. it’s locked away inside your head, hidden deep inside a restricted department in your mind which you do not ever revisit, but it’s there. somewhere. nowadays, your therapist asks you to break it open – you don’t need to, you know where the keys are – but you know the memories are unpolished, scattered on the floor instead of carefully labelled and sorted into equally meticulously labelled cabins. in truth, you don’t want to go back. there’s not much to remember, anyway —– it’s not you.

𝕸other thought you were a fussy child because each morning you would make an ordeal out of your breakfast; only eating the red froot loops first, then the blue, then the orange, then the yellow and the green, and she would have to scold you every day not to leave the purple ones behind. she never understood you had a system. one time she forced you to eat all of them promiscuously and you felt sick to your stomach with all that chaos inside. she didn’t understand that either and when you dared to cry because you felt the ragtag clutter push onto your innocent child heart, she tore onto your ear until you had a ‘ real ‘ reason to, yelling at you not to feign a sickness which you didn’t have. 

𝕱ather always said you were defiant because you always wasted his time with your silly little games. he practically dragged you to school every day for years, a tight grasp of rough fingers digging into your thin arm, because otherwise you’d want to balance on the edge of the sidewalk if the way itself was uneven or as you walked across checkered floor you took the extra time to step onto every single tile once — always just once, though, even if it meant you had to jump. he didn’t understand the necessity of it and when you fought against it because you needed to step on a specific crack in the floor – actually genuinely needed to in a way that was anything but a game – his fingers dug into your skin even more until it was impossible to tell what was more painful: your father’s touch or the horror scenarios your head came up with now that you didn’t do what you were supposed to.

𝕿eachers found the need to treat you different to everybody else because it always seemed as though you were a little bit behind your peers. whenever it was time to read a text aloud in class, they decided to skip you because you were always stuck somewhere at the start. they genuinely believed it best to belittle you while in truth, you were probably the smartest in the class and the quickest reader of them all. but each time the kid which read aloud would flounder you had to restart. it wasn’t how the book was supposed to be read, after all, but even though you tried to explain it once, no one ever wanted to listen, let alone attempt to understand where your thoughts were coming from.

𝕮lassmates mocked you for always being the odd one out. you preferred to watch rather than join them play in the schoolyard, you liked it better to sit in the stands, watching everyone’s valuables, while your sports teacher had the others hustle around the field, and in the locker room you stayed far away from everybody else. sometimes they would try to get to you and it was by unfortunate coincidence that they noticed it was the easiest to nerve you, not by lingering behind after school to beat you up like the other bullies did, but by ruining the order you neatly arranged your school supplies in. one time after you’ve had an unnerving night at home the day before, you freaked out because of it. it was the first time for most of your peers to experience a panic attack, but they didn’t comprehend that. they didn’t understand how desperately you needed for, at least, some things in your life to be in perfect symmetry, either.

𝕹eighbours thought you were a peculiar boy because your parents were godawful, no doubt, but with a son as strange as you what parent was not going to lose their mind — it’s the age old question; was the parent first or the child? who is to blame for creating the other? they often watched you on your way home, seeing your lips move as you walked in your own pattern past their average straight white fences. they thought you were madly talking to yourself, but you were not. you were quietly counting fence posts and in a neighbourhood where everyone wanted to be the same amount of normal, mirrored images of each other’s supposedly perfect homes, you were perhaps the only one who understood nothing was the way it seemed at a first glance.

𝕰veryone believed it to be your fault when authorities eventually took you away from your family’s home. some children, they said, are just too difficult to handle and they do not deserve the life their parents continuously and constantly try to give them. it took you a while to stop wondering about all the things you had done wrong, about whether the things you still did compulsively wrong meant you were simply messed up at the core —– but with a new family in your life you began to understand that everyone had in fact been right and you were not wrong. you did not deserve the life your biological parents forced on you. you deserved better, and the athanas – you have no doubt your mind will ever change on that – were the best thing which could’ve ever happened to you. 

𝕸aia, your real mother and the only one you accept as such, calls on you when she starts to cook dinner for the family. she never expects but always asks whether you’d like to deck the table. it takes a while but she knows you’ve got a system and she never gets tired of voicing how perfectly placed everything looks in the end. when you go on walks in the gardens she lets you set the pace, arm hooked into yours, allowing you to lead the way like the young gentleman you are. sometimes, when you seem especially distracted, she asks how many flowers there are – red ones on one day, then blue flowers the next, orange, yellow and at last she asks about the ones which are green – and she’s delighted every time with the number you tell her. it’s more than she expected, she’ll say and you smile because it’s exactly what you expected of her.

𝕾iblings, which you suddenly have and who are the only other children in your life, accept you do not want to play with them. to tell the truth, some of them don’t want to play with you either. you’ve never been given the opportunity to make friends but watching from a safe distance, at first, you actually start to grow a little fond of them. your hands are warm when you finally dare to actually approach one – you’ve been fidgeting with your fingers out of nerves – and still young, you are a little too shy to look at her for a long time. in the next few years you’ll sometimes wonder if you’d approach her again if you knew then of the nuisance she’d turn out to be — but deep down you know the answer to that one. you’re the older sibling to most of the others, if you act too adult for your age it almost seems like a thing you’re supposed to do. you’re your new father’s son, anyway, and perhaps the one who wants to be his son the most. 

𝖁idal sees potential where no one has ever seen it – in you – and you want to make him proud. it’s the least you can do for the man who has gifted you this life. he gives you extra lessons, teaching you of things not all of the others may know but which he knows will be safely locked away inside your head, and he assigns you a task which you are perfectly shaped for. there’s no one who has a better overview than you do, over your siblings, of course, but perhaps even the house as well. you know how many tiles the floor in the entrance hall is made of, how many books are standing on every shelf, how many little spoons are neatly stacked in the kitchen drawers — you counted them, you probably touched half of them as well to rearrange them to sit in the perfect place. it’s one of the few things you still have to do. in the comfort of a real home where your life is sorted in a way which does not force you to grasp at every bit of control you can have, your compulsions have gotten better. so much better your siblings don’t even know how much you used to be – how much you will be – struggling with them under the pressure of stress.

𝕹o one blames you anymore for the things you’re not —– you are horatio.

[ilovemygaydad]

8: Rules and 34: Diary with either Royality or Moxiety please! (For the “one word prompts”) -Romansleftshoulderpad

@romansleftshoulderpad i hope you enjoy this mess because… it’s weird?

pairings: anaroyality (or virgil/roman/patton or AMP)

warnings: supernatural beings, anxiety, death threats, almost dying, shouting, crying, self blame, ambiguous ending (sorta), self sacrifice

summary: roman wants to explore a real haunted mansion

“We should not go in there.”

Roman rolled his eyes as he continued to pick the lock of the abandoned mansion that sat right on the corner of Emerald and Valley View. “You already agreed, Doctor Snore-ible. And even if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t let your precious boyfriends go into the dilapidated and possibly haunted mansion alone.”

“Ro, sweetheart,” Patton started in his signature worried voice. “I’m gonna have to agree with Virgil here.”

The lock mechanism clicked, and Roman swung the door open. He turned to face his boyfriends with an affronted glare and a hand on his chest. “I cannot believe that the two loves of my life are going to gang up on me on the adventure of a lifetime! This is treason! Absolute–”

Virgil cut him off. “It is the middle of the night on a god damn full moon, which disregards every single rule about handling the supernatural rule out there. We snuck out of our dorms to come here. We are children. Disregarding the possibility of this place being haunted, there is the very real threat of dangerous architecture that is ready to fall apart just by glancing at it.” He huffed and crossed his arms. “I don’t even know how you dragged us out here in the first place.”

There were a few seconds of silence before Patton softly whispered, “Technically, I’m an adult…”

“Fine, but not enough to properly protect us from evil spirits and/or rotten stairs!”

“Look,” Roman cut in. “I love you two, and I would never drag you into something if I knew that it would end up hurting either of you!” He wrapped his arms around his boyfriends’ waists.

“Doesn’t mean it never happens,” Virgil muttered, but the argument was softened as he let his head rest on Roman’s shoulder.

Together, the three entered the mansion, and they were all equally confused when they were suddenly inside a very nicely maintained Victorian mansion instead of a cobweb-covered horror-scape. The carpets were a rich blue that complemented the dark wooden furniture and thick, black curtains. An ornate chandelier hung in the middle of the foyer, but none of the candles were lit; shadows covered the entire room.

Patton was the first of them to speak. “I’m going to be real with you… This is somehow way worse than if this place was totally falling apart.”

“No shit,” Virgil breathed, and Patton didn’t even bother to reprimand him.

“It’s fine, mis amores! It’s time to explore!” Roman let go of them and began up the stairs. The remaining two exchanged worried glances before following him. They all went through the first door that they encountered, entering a study that looked as lavish and dark as the foyer.

Patton immediately bolted to check out the books as if he had completely forgotten that they were in what was supposed to be–and was certainly not–an abandoned, run down mansion. Virgil followed, and Roman figured that he was doing that because he was worried that Patton was going to get hurt. His thoughts were confirmed when Patton was gently tugged into a distracting embrace. Roman decided to give his boyfriends some privacy and opted to read the diary on the desk that was catching his attention.

The diary was open, and a short passage was written at the top of the page:

Strangers are at the door. One is picking the lock. He is loud, but his two companions are not. I wish that they would leave me alone, but it doesn’t matter. They will be dead before they can regret their actions.

It was too late that he noticed the ink was too fresh to have been from a long-dead individual. Roman’s head snapped up to see a tall man in Victorian clothing with silver eyes that shined far too brightly in far too little light. A choked scream escaped his chest, which elicited two very distinct screams from his boyfriends across the room.

They were all going to die, and it was his fault.

“I thought about giving you an opportunity to explain your idiocy, but I do not feel like playing with my food tonight,” the main said plainly. If not for his words, Roman wouldn’t have been scared.

Unfortunately, the words had been said, and the man flashed his too-sharp teeth at the three boys. His eyes flickered to Patton, who was the largest of all of them, and took a step forward.

“Wait!” Virgil shouted, turning all eyes on him. “Wait, please. Take me, and let them go. They don’t deserve this. I promise that I won’t put up a fight, and I’ll be completely complacent.”

The man didn’t even get a word in before Patton scolded his boyfriend. “Now is not the time for selfless bravery, Virge!”

“I’m not letting you two die! You have so much potential–lives that you need to live.”

“So do you!”

Virgil shook his head violently, but he was cut off when Roman said, “Take me.”

“What?!” his boyfriends screeched in unison.

“I got you into this mess, and my ghost would never be able to rest knowing that I got my boyfriends killed by a ghoul or vampire or whatever.” He turned to the man, who was watching the scene unfold in confusion. “It was my idea to come here. They didn’t want to come, but I told them that we should. They only came along because they knew I’d go anyway and didn’t want me to be alone. Spare them.”

“Nope!” Patton said. “Absolutely not. If anyone is dying here, it’ll be me and me alone. I’m the oldest, and that means I’m in charge. I should have fought harder to leave in the first place.”

Suddenly, a cacophony of three arguing voices filled the room with exploding sound until the man could no longer take it.

“STOP!” 

The three boys froze in horror.

“I will give you fifteen seconds to exit my home before I slaughter you in front of you.” No one moved. “One. Two. Thr–”

Less than six seconds later, the front door to the mansion slammed closed, and three highly distressed boys collapsed into a pile on the porch.

“I’m so sorry,” sobbed Roman into Patton’s shoulder. “I’m sorry! I should have listened to you. I almost killed you!”

Virgil’s voice was deceptively cold when he said, “It isn’t exactly common knowledge that the supernatural actually are real and out to kill you. They’re generally regarded as folktales instead of fact.”

“I just wanna go home,” Patton murmured. He curled his hands into Roman’s sweater and Virgil’s shirt, and none of them knew if he was doing it to ground them or himself.

It was only a few more minutes before they returned to their dorms, and if they walked into school with somber expressions the next day, that was nobody’s business but their own.