#creepypasta content

[dreadnautilus0]

Creepypasta do Luquinhas vai sair em breve:

Edição finalizada, mas vai sair do canalzinho novo que o adm do @thex01011000 criou pra focar nisso! Vou deixar aqui o print pra humildemente pra pedir para se inscreverem e ficarem de olho! Quando sair quero todo mundo assistindo vindo fofocar comigo o que acharam--

ps:. me diz que vocês também gostaram do trocadilho com o finado "Bons Sonhos"

[deepseafisher]

[2005divorced7times]

Who ready to carry the ticciwork tag again (meeee)

[sister-lucifer]

A Bullet in the Chamber

Proxies (Hoodie, Masky, Toby) x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Horror/Dark Angst 

Summary: They want you to prove your love, to prove that you truly believe you’re meant to be together…with the help of Tim’s revolver, of course.

Content/Warnings: God, where do I start…obviously massive use of a gun, they play russian roulette, descriptions of gore, the proxies are super manipulative and emotionally abusive to reader, just a super obsessive not healthy relationship, this is NOT a feel good fic, it’s implied reader is being held captive 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

“We just wanna…play a little game with you, that’s all,” Tim drawls, his voice deep and lazy as he looks at you from behind his mask. 

You’re nervous suddenly. Unbearably nervous. A cold chill runs throughout your body and makes your stomach convulse in an agonizing manner, and you don’t know if you’re going to vomit or pass out first. You don’t know why. He’s only just started speaking. Maybe it’s the way he drew out the last part of that sentence, or the way he immediately tried to soothe you before you’ve even fully understood what’s going on, or just that look in his eyes that says ‘I want to fucking gut you.’ 

There’s a reason you learned to keep your guard up around these three.

Suddenly the little circle you’re all sitting in on the floor feels much, much tighter than is comfortable, and it doesn’t help that Toby slides in closer, bumping your shoulder with his and flashing you a knowing smirk. What exactly he knows, though, is a horrific enigma to you.

Brian is on your other side, and although he doesn’t move, for a split second he glances at you out of the corner of his eye before his gaze returns to Tim. He’s managing to hold a straight face, but you can see the corners of his mouth just barely twitching as he internally fights to keep the emotion bubbling beneath the surface at bay.

There’s silence for a few moments, you’re not sure how long, but you don’t realize they’re waiting for you to speak until Toby nudges you.

“I, uh…what, um— what kind of game…?” You stammer, immediately regretting your question despite the curiosity that’s gnawing at you like a starving animal. You shudder when Toby giggles, clearly trying to stifle the sound as he bumps your shoulder again. 

Tim thinks over his answer for a moment, scratching at his stubble in a manner that is far too casual. You think he’s going to speak, you’re expecting it, but he doesn’t say anything at first beyond a tired sounding sigh. Your eyes are locked onto his hand as it reaches behind him, and when it emerges once more it’s holding onto the grip of Tim’s revolver. 

“There’s one bullet in the chamber.” 

The world is spinning suddenly as you watch him place the weapon on the ground, and the sound of it sliding across the floor to you makes you sick. You bite back a gag as it slows to a stop in front of you. Your mouth hangs open uselessly as you struggle for words, desperate to pull out some sort of protest to what you know he wants but no sound comes. 

They watch you grapple with yourself for a few moments before Brian places a hand on your knee. It’s supposed to be a comforting gesture, and normally it would be, but now it feels like a threat. 

“Hey, don’t freak out so soon,” He says, lips curled into a subtle smirk, “We did this all the time when we were younger, it’s practically a rite of passage.”

Unsurprisingly, this does little to quell your fears. You’re shaking now, unable to wrap your mind around how they could be acting so nonchalant about putting your lives on the line like this.

“Listen,” Tim huffs, “I’m gonna be straight with ya, kid. We know how you’ve been feeling recently.” 

That hardly narrows it down. You’ve been feeling a lot of things recently, none of it good and all of it confusing. That’s just the sort of conflict born from this kind of captivity. You shrug, unsure what to say. 

“We know you w-wanna leave,” Toby clarifies, “I saw you staring out t-the window the other day…you just s-sat there for hours.” 

That…made you feel a bit guilty. You shouldn’t, but you do. You could’ve at least made it less obvious. 

“We trust you, hon,” Brian adds with a nod, “But we also think we could all use a little…what did you call it?”

He turns to Tim, who yawns before answering. 

“…Group bonding.” 

You shudder at the phrase. Disgusting. 

“I…I don’t think this is the best way to…t-to do that,” You murmur, but your words hold no weight when you can’t even look them in the eyes. You’d never take the risk of making any sort of real fuss anyways.

Tim shrugs, seeming to consider your words. 

“How would you do it, then?” 

You…don’t have an answer for that. Why don’t you have an answer for that? 

“I-I don’t know, I mean…can’t we just have awkward group sex like other, uh…groups, or whatever?” You ask, hesitating to call your dynamic any sort of relationship.

You make sure to tack on a nervous laugh at the end to make it seem lighthearted, but no one is amused. Toby giggles, but he’s laughing at you, and it’s painfully obvious. 

“Don’t stress about it,” Tim says, “Just think of it as a…a test, you know?” 

He sighs when you shake your head no.

“Ya know, like…a way of proving yourself. I mean, you trust us, right?” 

You hesitate to answer that, but nod quickly when Tim narrows his eyes at you. 

“Good. Well, think of it this way: if we all survive this, it’s a sign that we’re…meant to be together.”

“There has to be a better way—“ You blurt out before you can stop yourself, and Brian instantly takes to calming you. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side. His other hand comes up to your face, holding your head against his shoulder.

“Calm down, baby,” He says softly, “Don’t jump ship so fast. I told you, we’ve all done this before. We’ll even go first to show you there’s nothing to be afraid of, alright?”

He’s not really giving you a choice. 

You nod.

Maybe you’ll be able to just get this over with. If you sit here for much longer, you’re gonna be sick. 

Toby reaches out to grab the gun first. That doesn’t surprise you at all. He’s never been one for forethought, or common sense in general. One day his hubris will get him killed, you think, but for once you’re hoping it won’t be today. 

Not today. 

Not here.

Not right in front of you. 

Brian doesn’t let you go, continuing to hold you against him as Toby makes a show of spinning the chamber, letting it run until it stops on its own. He giggles with deranged amusement as he presses the end of the barrel to the bottom of his chin, looking back at Tim with a crooked grin. 

There’s silent for a few moments, and you can’t look away from him until you follow his gaze to Tim, who is staring back with furrowed brows.

He’s still for a beat, and then he nods. 

A signal. 

Go. 

You have a split second to process Toby preparing to pull the trigger before you bury your face in Brian’s hoodie and he, in turn, covers your face with his hand and squeezes you tight. It’s hardly comforting, but it’s better than nothing. 

The soft click of the trigger seems to echo endlessly in the silence that follows. 

Silence. 

You quickly look back up and are immediately met with Toby’s hazel eyes looking back at you, their corners crinkled with the wide smile that’s spread across his pale face. 

“Lookie there,” He drawls with a laugh, “This h-handsome face is still in tact.” 

“Hardly the better outcome,” Tim mutters with a roll of his eyes.

This prompts Toby to slide the gun to him next, crossing his arms in feigned hurt. 

“You go n-next then, wise guy. If you blow y-your brains out, at least we’ll know you h-had one.” 

“Shut up,” Tim hisses back as he, too, brings his hand up to spin the chamber of the revolver. You’re still trying to catch your breath. You didn’t think they’d be so eager. 

You’re gripping onto Brian’s hoodie so tightly your knuckles burn as you watch Tim press the barrel of the gun to his jaw, angling it upwards toward the dome of his skull.

He’s not nearly as giddy as Toby. He’s straight faced and silent, which isn’t odd, but something in his eyes is darker than you ever remember it being. You can only see his eyes with his mask on, yet you know his expression exactly. He’s staring right at you, and you’re imagining his brains dashed against the wall behind him, his face and any identifying features that once made him human reduced to a splatter of viscera that barely resembles the pieces of a person. 

And when it’s all over, you think, you’ll surely be the one left to clean the mess of what used to be Tim. You’ll be left to scrub the red stains from the floorboards while the others continue on as if nothing has happened, and suddenly you can’t breathe.

The world stills as once more the trigger is pulled with a click.

Then relief hits you like a shockwave when that click is followed by silence.

Silence.

Your lungs fill faster than you were ready for, and you cough and sputter as your chest heaves with newfound breath. Brian rubs your shoulder gently, his other hand reaching out to grab the revolver as Tim slides it to him. The gun is exchanged without a word, only piercing eye contact as Brian lifts the weapon and spins the chamber, just as his companions had done before him. 

It seems so natural for all of them. In the half a second it takes for Brian to lift the gun you wonder how many times they’ve done this, if you’re the first  person to witness this ritual, and if not, what happened to those who came before you. 

You don’t find any hope of getting answers, though, as you watch Brian press the barrel to the side of his head. He gives you a squeeze, and you can’t tell if he’s assuring you or saying goodbye just in case. 

You still haven’t released his hoodie despite the throbbing pain in your fingers. You’re barely a thread away from tearing out a patch, but you can’t let go. You don’t look at him this time, unable to pull your head away from where it rests on his shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze like you’re trying to crush him, but he only lets out a breathy chuckle and ruffles your hair in response as if he’s amused by your terror. You’re a scared kid to him, a foolish little child running from an imaginary monster despite the very real threat. 

You can hear his hoodie shifting as he adjusts the position of the gun. You can hear the slight scratching against his hair as the barrel moves against his head. You can hear him suck in a quick breath as he readies himself to pull the trigger. 

You hear the click. 

And then silence. 

Silence.

You’ve never been so grateful for silence. 

You nearly jump out of your skin when Toby claps and laughs loudly, practically howling with wildly misplaced celebration. He shakes you in his excitement, unable to get any intelligible words out through his giggling. 

“Shhh,” Brian says with a finger to his lips, “We’re not done yet.”

He’s right. Goddamnit, he’s right. Not everyone has played yet. You were hoping that maybe just this once the higher being that trapped you in this hell would have this minuscule mercy on you, but you were met with a resounding no. 

Brian places the gun on the floor in front of you. You can’t hear the sound of the metal gently knocking against the wood floor, but it makes you feel ice cold. Your world is rapidly going dark as you struggle to make yourself breathe. 

You can feel the others’ eyes on you, three pairs of eyes staring right at you and boring a hole through your skull that’ll surely be identical to the one the bullet will leave. Maybe they’re imagining it, too. 

It seems you’re not moving fast enough for them.

Toby reaches out and grabs your wrist a bit too roughly, forcefully placing your hand on the gun. You wince like you expect it to burn, but you’re left with only the cruel sensation of metal on your palm. 

You weakly curl your fingers around the grip of the gun. It feels impossibly heavy as you lift it, trembling like a leaf in the wind. You force your other hand up, placing two fingers on the chamber of the revolver as you prepare to spin it.

You press the pads of your fingers against the metal, pushing down in an attempt to spin, but the gun slips from your shaking hands and clatters to the floor. You yelp in surprise and clamp your hands over your mouth, tears suddenly forming in your eyes but refusing to flow over. 

Brian sighs. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just disappointed. He picks up the gun, and you think that maybe, just maybe he’s going to let you out, grant you some small reprieve and tell you you don’t have to do this. 

Instead he wraps an arm around your waist and holds you close, and his other hand presses the barrel of the gun right to your head. 

“I’ll do it for you,” He says, as if it’s nothing serious. Like he’s just grabbing a box off a high shelf to be nice. 

You feel like he’s strangling you. He might as well be. It would be a more humane death. 

He’s going to kill you, you think, you’re going to die in this godforsaken house with these bastards, you’re going to die in isolation with no one to honor your body. 

They’ve sentenced you to death. 

You think back to that question of how many have come before you. Is this what they thought about, too? Is this the first, third or twentieth time someone like you has been here? How many unfortunate circumstances have stained the floorboards red over the years this cabin has stood? 

It doesn’t matter. 

None of that matters. 

You’re going to be the next. 

That’s all there is for you to be now. 

A stain of red on the old wood floors will be your only legacy. 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you look up at Brian. His expression doesn’t move an inch. There’s no trace of the humor he always seems to have, not even a hint of feigned compassion or sympathy for your position. He’s not letting you out of this. None of them are. 

You reach down and grab Brian’s hand where it rests in your hip, your nails digging into his knuckles. He doesn’t react. He doesn’t even move beyond adjusting his finger to pull the trigger. 

Each second seems to go on for an eternity, yet at the same time everything is moving far too fast. You can’t process what’s happening but you just want it over with, that’s your only choice. 

He’s lifting his finger, preparing to bring it down on the trigger. 

He’s pressing the barrel of the gun into your skin just a bit harder as he readies himself for whatever happens next. 

This is it. 

This is it. 

This is it this is it this is it this is it this is it this is it this is…

The trigger clicks. 

Then there’s silence. 

…it.

Silence.

And then Toby erupts with animalistic, ecstatic laughter. It rings in your ears and echoes around your skull in an almost painful manner. You can’t stand the sound. 

You’re alive. 

The game is over. 

All at once relief floods your body in such an overwhelming manner your vision goes dark. You can’t speak a word before you’ve gone limp in Brian’s arms, and he barely has time to put the revolver down and catch you. He holds you in his arms and makes a half hearted attempt to wake you, but when you don’t respond he looks up at Tim with a smirk. 

“Out like a light.” 

Tim can’t help but chuckle, and for a moment it’s even a full on laugh. This only encourages Toby, who’s flopped over onto his back as his body writhes with mirth. 

Brian groans as he stands, pulling your body up with him. He throws you over his shoulder and nods to the others. 

“I’m taking this one up stairs, gonna put ‘em to bed. I’m sure they’ll be whiny when they wake up, and you two better deal with it.”

Tim and Toby nod and wave him away. Toby’s finally stopped laughing enough to pull himself off the floor as Tim picks up the revolver. He shoves it into Toby’s chest, nearly pushing him over. 

“Go put it up,” Tim orders. 

“Or what?” Toby teases as he takes the gun, “You g-gonna get mad ‘cause I won’t clean up y-your toys?” 

“Just do it,” Tim demands with a growl, clearly not amused. Toby rolls his eyes and huffs like a defiant child, but nods. 

Tim starts to walk away, headed upstairs to his own room, but he pauses on the first step and turns to Toby. 

“Oh, and don’t forget to load it,” He adds, “If it’s empty the next time I need it, I’m gonna kill you.” 

[dangerbizz]

Glitchy you asshole stop being edgy for 5 minutes you’re scaring her

(also some saturationsweep content) ((Banette x Grey)) (((don’t associate with lullaby please)))

[koolaidoverliving]

WIP >_O

[c00kietin]

I wouldn't say I'm a proper fan of jason since I haven't watched the films but that's where fandom came in :D

[multitrackdrifting]

I love horror as a genre, but I am so worn out by horror as content. My halloween special talks about feeling fatigued from horror as content, as opposed to just disliking horror media. I feel that seeing so many ENDING EXPLAINED and FULL TIMELINE OF FNAF lore videos are a byproduct of the desire to just passively consume something and that's fine - my issue is that with horror content specifically, trying to ground the unfathomable and unknowable concepts of cryptids, creatures & settings into digestible packages also destroys my suspension of disbelief. That's my own problem, but that's why I fnd it hard to enjoy a lot of horror because it gets dissected and watered down before I can even blink.

A lot of great horror is still being made like Pearl, RE4R, Fear and Hunger, and Signalis, so I want to dismantle my jaded demeanor and (re)learn to love the genre I cherish the most.

[valeskawhore]

IMAGINE:

APOCALYPSE AU?? PROXIES X READER (IDEA!)

A/N: This is an idea that I’ve been seeing all around tumblr from my mutuals and honestly, why the hell not? I love the idea of apocalyptic survival. Let me know if this should be a series !!

An eerie creak sounds out behind me as I opened the window, and Dust flooded the dimly lit room as I made my way inside. Exploring abandoned houses wasn't always a typical interest of mine, but staying warm and having a dry place to sleep at night was.

Rain clashed gently down on the roof from outside, crickets could be heard and soon the silence rested back into place when I pulled the cracked window shut from the other side.

This place definitely was not the best, but at least it was dry.

First thing I did was open my backpack, setting up candles and hanging an old sheet that I found laying in the corner, over the window to block out the light.

Repeatedly, I told myself that this was just temporary.

I didn't have enough food to last more than a few nights anyways. Walkers roamed more and more with every passing day, tho winter was coming and it was coming fast.

Hopefully, that would do something to slow the walkers, even if it was just by a few steps, I prayed.

With a sigh, I slowly sat down on the make-shift mattress that I made for myself, hearing my ankles pop in the process because man, I really needed to stretch more often, I'm not getting any younger.

I took off my baseball cap and pulled down my mask to breathe just a little bit clearer, running my fingers through my hair, I noticed how greasy it was. The thought made me disgusted since.. Well, I couldn't even imagine how I smelled and i didnt want to either.

Popping open a bottle of water, I drank my thirst away. Listening to the rain pour, the thunder crack and the sounds of the undead trudging along outside.

As I clenched my eyes shut for a second..

I blocked out the screams, the cries and pleads for help.. The cocking of guns and the growls of the unthinkable tearing and ripping the flesh of the people being eaten alive. My fingernails began to itch, my knuckles on fire, tears welding in my eyes.

“Y/N!!” She screamed, “HELP ME!!” she cried..

I sat my bottled water down, and lit up a cigarette.

“It’ll be ok..” I told myself, “Survive one more day, just one more,” everynight.

“I’ll find you baby.. one day..”

I closed my eyes.. Relaxed my body, breathed out deeply.

“Goodnight y/n” I told myself.

The front door clashed open.

*~*~*~~*~*~*~

“GET INSIDE! GET THE FUCK INSIDE!” A voice screamed. The sounds of the undead gurgled up the last of their life and slammed their heads against the door, screaming. I heard multiple people slamming themselves against the front door, refraining it from opening. “ROGERS, FIND SOMETHING, NOW. WE NEED TO BARD THE DOOR!”

“I-I-M OHN–ON IT!!” Someone stuttered.

I jumped up from my mattress, reaching for my gun and loading in the magazine. I threw the sleeping bag off of me, and unlocked the door. I heard the others rummaging down stairs for something to board the door. I peaked my head out,

Something suddenly rammed against my head, the door was torn open, slamming into my head. I fell back on my ass, and reached around lazily for my gun.

I heard a gasp fall above me, my vision was spinning, but I found my gun and raised it above me at the silhouette. There were two of them, then three, then two, until both shadow figures meshed into one guy. His face was something more,

Two dark brown eyes, greasy chestnut hair, he nose was already bleeding and there was a bandage covering up the right side of his lips stretching to his cheek bones.

He was definitely a young man, 23-24 maybe. Wearing yellow rusted-rimmed goggles, a blue hoodie with a tanned, older jacket overtop, there was a black and gray-ish mask wrapped around his neck and pulled up over his face. The (now) snickering man wore stained blue jeans and some bloodied converse.

His laugh rang out through my skull, pounding against my ear lobes. His eyes became impossibly wide now, canines glimmering in the moonlight as thunder cracked in the background.

With one final sadistic smile,

He picked up his double hand axes and raised them high, His laughter almost screams now, The screams of a hyena, a skinwalker luring its prey.

The young man brought the axes down quickly,

I rolled over with a small scream, doing my best to avoid the hard steel.

I fumbled around on the ground, reaching for my gun.

When I had it in my hand, the man jumped on me and slammed my back into the hardwood floor. The house was so old that dust jumped into the air, and swam around. I clenched my eyes shut and coughed until I could breathe again. I felt his boney hands wrap around my throat, his skin uncomfortably cold and white. I kicked my feet behind him and threw my head back,

The man let up his grip but didn't scream out in pain, his laughter only grew.

I grabbed the boy's hair and threw him off of me, his body collided against the wall,

Because,

His body actually went through it, clashing into the room next to us.

Dust flooded the room once more, and as the psychopath took longer than expected to rise back to his feet, I grabbed my sleeping bag and ran downstairs, contents loosley in hand.

I struggled to throw my jacket on as i ran down the steps,

A shorter figure stepped in front of me, and stuck his leg out, successfully tripping me in the process. I felt my world being flipped upside down as my rib cage cracked against the staircase. I coughed up blood, my heartbeat in my ears as I laid there motionless.

With my vision dark, i could only here throat-ripping screeching from the outside world,

Three figures stepped in my view of the door, I pulled my arms in front of me and did my best to drag my body away. I moaned out in a breath-less cry as I felt the rusted nails sticking out of the wood flooring scraped against my cracked ribs.

Something stopped me, whoever or.. Whatever it was, grabbed my achilles heel and dragged me back in the living room with one strong pull.

They flipped me on my back, blood dripped down the corner of my mouth as I did my best to control my breath. Hesitantly, I reached my hand up and folded my fist into a weak, shaky middle finger, my ‘fuck you’ to the world.

I heard one of them snicker before the tallest one leaned down carefully, dark red painted eyes peered into mine before he pulled off my mask. I had a surge of anger come over me, as I reached to kick him in the balls but he caught my leg, almost expecting it even. His grip tightened menacingly on my thigh, before he gave my cracked rib cage an almost impossibly fast sucker punch.

I coughed out blood on instinct, my body spasming. I held my chest and my body folded forwards, my knees to my chest. “F-fuck you..” I coughed, tears streaming down my face.

His hand, still on my thigh, tightened once more. Leaning close to my face, the stranger whispered..

“What.. do we have here?”

[funeraleroticism]

Old drawing I made back in 2022 of this crusty musty silly guy. Looking forward on redrawing this soon.

Fun fact: I've made at least 200 drawings of him and never posted any, so consider yourself lucky!

[appri-dot]

Into the woods, where the trees hold your hand

[lolcatsaestheticdump]

666th post

[thisisyouridol]

333

[bunclops616]

I can’t take it anymore.

Bro.

PLEASE I NEED MORE LOSTDROWNED / DROWNEDSILVER CONTENT PLEASE🗣️‼️‼️‼️

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MY FUCKING GOD THIS SHIP BEING UNDER THE RAREPAIR CATEGORY FEELS LIKE A FUCKING CRIME PLEASE

THEY MAKE ME WANNA KMS /POS 💕💕💕

( Also feel free to Reblog this with your personal headcanons about their relationship I would be so happy THANK YOUUU :333 )

[starakex]

Halloween is already over :(

[ang3lfluids]

Jeff fucking into your mouth, loving the way your body jerks and your makeup drips down your face as he pushes your head down. Him cooing at your pathetic attempts to free yourself to breathe. Smacking at your face as he makes you gag and spit around his dick. Droolssss