#i was spooky once

[zoxsansnc]

what if i spook-ify the

"crazy i was crazy once..."

thing?

"Spooky? I was spooky once, they locked me in a house, a haunted house, a haunted house with spooks, and the spooks made me spooky"

please reblog, do not repost or se elsewhere without permission and giving credit to me

[pseudospectre]

So it turns out you can just buy old x-rays off ebay

[north-noire]

I know exactly who you are, William.

[cozylittleartblog]

what if there was a plague doctor that was so so so cute (and was also secretly a bird themself)

[anyataylorjoys]

CONSTANTINE —2005, dir. Francis Lawrence

[jadecantcreate]

my pfp ! the spooky scary skremyton himself

[doctorsiren]

thinking about the moth psycho 100 AU and remembered that we have Mogami taking full control of Reigen’s body when Reigen sleeps (Jekyll and Hyde moment for them) so he can go and like, consume spirits to get stronger and thought that I should draw that :)

Also thinking about what if Mogami doesn’t leave fully after that part in the World Domination Arc and since Reigen can see him now after Mob kicked Mogami out of Reigen’s head, Reigen calls on him to help him when he’s about to go confront Suzuki (i just don’t want Mogami to leave 🥺 /silly)

[the-spooky-children]

Skid to his dad in episode 10

[solargeist]

i wanna redesign Watcher Mum chat what do we Think

[inkandpaintleopard]

Me first trying to characterize Skid: Alright I better not project all kinds of emotional baggage on him

Skid this episode:

[lolpsxd]

he's soooo so so normal about happy tree friends soooo normal soo

[teachyouhowtodothesponge]

Hello neighbor!

Just stopping by to say I absolutely love how you draw the Wally little goober. He reminds me of Garfield cartoons with his sleepy sweet expressions. I find his silly antics very amusing. You're a wonderful artist and I hope you have a wonderful day.

🌻💛🌻💛🌻💛🌻💛🌻💛🌻💛🌻💛🌻💛🌻

AW THANK YOU, NEIGHBOR! Reading Garfield comics and looking at Clown's art has helped me want to grow my artstyle. It really means a lot to me that you like my silly doodles and I hope they have been able to put a smile on your face! :) Here are some doodle Wallys for you!

[davinciae]

let's bury this.

[zalammander-paradise]

long time no see

[worm-on-the-moss]

whoops sorry tamsyn muir

[fairy-verse]

: ̗̀➛ The Weeping Horror

➻Warning: Violence and descriptions of body horror, cannibalism, and death

You head down into the depths of Error’s Mountain Halls. It is time to mine for minerals, for gems and treasures, but little have you cared for these things. It is the fun of it all you enjoy, you, a strong, healthy winter fairy.

Pretty you are, like the snow beneath starlight. Handsome you are, like the might of a snowstorm.

Your friends call and cheer for you to hurry up, and one of them calls your name, smiling softly as their wings flutter in delight. You’ve been courting each other, only lightly, to see how interested the other is, but you are beginning to believe they really like you.

They smell wonderful.

Cold is the stone that forms the base of Error’s Mountain Domain, yet never has it bit into you like it does others. You’re made of stronger stuff, with thicker bones and sturdier shoulders. You are so tall, mighty, and perfectly built for working in these mines.

You love the mines.

This is what you were born to do, to mine for metals and minerals that the smiths of your mountain home can use for their crafts. You can make some yourself, of course, every winter fairy can, but it is not your passion. Swinging a pickaxe and seeing stones fly is what you enjoy.

Using your strength is what you love to do.

Is that what made the roof collapse? You cannot recall, the memory is hazy on the best of days, but the dust had made it difficult to see and settle down, and your wings had ached as rocks had crashed upon them, but they hadn’t torn.

The wings of one of your friends had been torn completely off, but so had their arm, and their head. They’d turned to stardust before your eyes, and you’d watched, shocked still.

Your dearly beloved had come for you, weeping with fright but also relief at seeing you alive. You’d wept too, for them, for your friend, for you all that now were trapped down here.

It would be okay. The others would learn about it soon enough.

Help would come.

The cold does not bite into the bones of a winter fairy like it does for those of summer, but hunger will forever gnaw to make its presence known, and for hours—nay, days, or has it been weeks? You cannot remember, but you know you’re hungry.

You’re so hungry.

Your friends are hungry too, and they’ve grown distant as of late. It started small, some of them paced around the small cave, some flew to stretch their wings, and even your beloved began to huddle in a corner by themselves as they mumbled incoherently.

The hunger was bad.

The loneliness was worse.

You try to sit by your friends, but they move away. They can’t look you in the face. Their own faces are so dull, so dark, with sockets appearing sunken and hollow. They look so frightened, so sad, so forgotten, so hungry.

You don’t know why they recoil from you. They are your friends, and your beloved doesn’t wish to speak. They don’t look at you at all, so you weep all alone, crouched in a corner, nothing but cold rock on all sides.

Why does the room feel like it’s shrinking?

You awake to another morning or night, you cannot tell, but your awakening is strange. You blink but all is red, and you cannot see through your right eye. Your head is throbbing and something wet is trickling down your face.

Your friends are fighting over something; something round and mushy, and one manages to put it in his mouth before he starts to chew. He looks like a ravenous animal.

You blink and your beloved stands before you, but something is wrong. You try to speak but they lift their arms and strike you with something heavy. A rock, you think, and it hurts.

It hurts.

I t   h u r t s !

Your skull is struck and something cracks, and you realise that it’d already been cracked open, and you see your friends scramble towards you, hungry; hungry.

The pain and your hunger take hold and suddenly you stand up, grasping your beloved’s neck like it’s nothing but a twig, and you don’t recognise your own hand. It looks like a monstrous claw and as you tighten it your beloved goes limp as stardust begins to fall from their bones.

This time something cracked on them.

Your friends scramble for the dusting body, and your own horror of what you’ve done grows, and grows, and grows until you can no longer think. The pain in your skull increases and your bones ache and you lunge for your friends, and they scream.

There was so much screaming, and the walls continued to shrink.

You think you hear your own screams, but your friends scream louder, and they try to run, to fly, but they cannot get out. You cannot get out.

None of you can escape the horror of the cave-in, and now, you feed.

They called you a monster when they found you, crouched as you were, huddled over a particular pile of stardust, iridescent blood glittering across your broken skull, your face, your hands, your claws.

You nearly killed them all in your attempt to escape the mountain halls.

The rock is still moving closer, trying to trap you again.

You cannot breathe and you groan and roar horrific sounds as knights and warriors hold you down. So many had to hold you down, but it was the sight of Error which made you stop moving, pitiful whines and cries were the only thing you could allow to escape.

And he looked upon you with horror.

What monstrosity had taken place within his domain; what horror had grown from a fairy once so fair?

You wept, for yourself, for your friends, or for the love you’ve lost you cannot say, but you wept and begged for death. You begged your firstborn to release you from the horrors of your own mind, but your wish was not granted.

You needed to be punished for what you’ve done, and death was mercy, but Error took pity upon you; weeping as you were. And so, he said, “My mountain halls shall no longer be your home, but instead I grant you a lifelong service besides their shadows, though beneath the open sky, you shall stay, and there you will guard my kingdom against the wretched big folk; until your death.”

A terrible fate most will say, for what winter fairy lived outside Error’s Mountain Halls. None, save for those who’ve sworn their service to remain out of bounds, ever watchful of hunters who wish them and their kin harm. However, you thought it was both a mercy and a promise of eternal torture.

Mercy, for no longer would you be surrounded by rock, and never more shall you mine in caves for minerals, metals, and precious gems. Torture, for the screams of your friends remained in your mind, and the taste of their bones, their wings yet remained upon your tongue.

What's more, your injuries had left you permanently changed. You’ve grown taller, sturdier, and more dangerous, but your mind is shattered and only a few pieces remain. It is difficult to remember your past, your family…

You remember the screams of your friends, but not their faces, only the taste of them as you fed on their dusting bodies.

You remember the stardust of your lost love, but not their voice, their touch.

…

You cannot remember your name, but a horror of Error’s Mountain Halls you’ve become, and so, Horror shall be your new name.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Horror's theme: Willow's End - Gareth Coker