#spoopy fun times

[thoughtfulfangirling]

The only way to teach the value of something is to give someone the chance to waste it.

—The Merry Spinster by Daniel M. Lavery

[renabe4life]

boop

[lupucs]

Happy spoopy day! 👹

[deadinsideart]

Nightmares

====

Bonus aftermath comic!!

[hotheadedhero]

Soooooooo I've been a little bit of a busy bee atm

(Partner going as Casey, I’ve roped him into my addiction 🤪)

Originally, this was meant to be an April/Casey couple costume but you would not believe how difficult it is to find a decent yellow jumpsuit!

Yet again, I ain’t exactly mad, this has been a lot of fun

I am hoping to get the finishing touches done in time, this project has been killing me

All in good fun tho :’)

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

Patchy did a thingy!

[witch-sweets]

Ight wrote this at 3am so y'all get to beta read it

B4 it goes on AO3 anyways

Technically a gift fic 4 @return-of-the-queen-au cuz I was heavily inspired by their post about this idea so ye!

The Haunted Prince Chapter 1

"Well isn't THIS interesting! I guess I really am the PRINCE of Subcon." A wicked grin set across his face. "This will more fun than I thought..." He let out a maniacal laugh for the whole kingdom to hear. He slowly stalked back to the bed like a puppet being pulled by strings and laid back down going right back to sleep.

Thunder roared overhead as rain pounded on the windows. Wait windows? Why did he hear windows? There were no homes with windows anywhere near his forest. And why was the thunder so muffled? It sounded just like when a storm would pass over the manor. His eyes were shut from exhaustion as he laid- wait laid? Did his chair recline while he was asleep? And why was it so... Cushiony and soft? It felt like laying on a cloud just like his bed in the manor... At least the blanket that covered him was.... Soft.... WAIT WHERE DID THE BLANKET COME FROM???? it was made of a mixture of plush and velvet just like... His blanket.... From the.... Manor..... Snatcher opened his eyes in order to figure out what was going on and low and behold he was in his room at the manor! "Well shit" he was to tired to revisit his trauma today. He glanced down at his hands to find that rather than petite hands claws that were tipped in purple at the ends. "Well at least I have some semblance of myself in this godforsaken meat-sack!" He stumbled towards the mirror like a corpse that had just started to walk again. And noticed some small but comforting details such as the fact he had some pretty sharp fangs, glowing golden eyes, and a smile that went unnaturally high up his face.

[thoughtfulfangirling]

Don't find yourself regretting this. You're much too young to haunt your own life.

—Plain Bad Heroines by Emily Danforth

[kadoodles-on-ao3]

Quick Update: I've been busy with many things good and bad, but I've been working on updating the Xenoblade articles on The Cutting Room Floor with my findings! :)

So far I've done the main party members' unused battle lines, found a tonnn of unused cutscene lines, and added some bugs (everything from the Riki Gem Crafting section on!)

All that's left is to do the temporary party members' and the bosses' lines! I'll probably end up giving the bosses their own subpage... if I'm allowed to do that lol

I've also edited all the playable characters' dialogue articles as well as added info on the bosses' lines to their respective individual pages over on the Xenoseries wiki! :) Too many pages to link here so I'll give you Shulk's and then you can find the rest by searching!

[mirapancake]

Trick or Treat!!! 🎃

Treat for you!!! And a bonus lil Cats keychain! @phantomcat94 🐈‍⬛🧡🎃

💙Happy Halloween friendo!!💙

[frostkingoftheapocalypse]

// ^v^

[shenzaibird-art]

🎃 SPOOKY SEASON BEGINS 🎃

New spooky Shenzai! I love the old one dearly but I felt like I could use a new one that fits more with my current spooky style. After all, the other one was from 2018, that was a while ago! Somehow!!

[hyperfixated-homo]

Different worlds only buildings apart

Chapter 5 - The Scraping

Storms lead to sunny skies while the world wakes up. Six people start six stories, as different as can be. Or at least, it all seems so different. In reality, the world is much smaller than they might think, and what’s the difference between a horror story and a romantic comedy but a change in perspective?

Ao3 link

Chapter summary: What was on the other side of that door?

Warnings: Mentions of death, murder, murderers, uhhh dissociation?? possibly?? Tell me if I missed anything I'm sure I did

Word count: 952

PREVIOUS

There was a noise from the other side of a heavy wooden door, like something was scratching against it. In the eerily quiet atmosphere, the only thing that could be heard is breathing and the low, repetitive scratching. 

A man sat in the room that the door led to, still and silent. His head tilted back and his eyes were closed. It would have looked like he was sleeping, if you could look close enough at him to see that he was breathing. From too far away, he looked ghostly. Dead. He was sitting there, waiting. Waiting for what? Well, he didn’t quite know himself. Inspiration maybe. 

That was the reason he was here in the first place, alone in an abandoned house miles away from any actual civilization. Inspiration. He was waiting for something interesting to happen, for something - or maybe someone - to leap out of the shadows and take him by surprise. 

A single, lonely lightbulb lit the otherwise dark room as he sat there. There was nothing, nothing but the man and the darkness and the faint scratching noise on the other side of the door. 

He wondered, briefly, if this was worth the effort. Worth the time. Worth the money he spent on gas for his car, the fifty bucks for the motel room, all of it just so that he could be in this strange place in the middle of nowhere. He hadn’t done anything today, not really. He was just sat in the room. Quiet. Waiting. 

The man slowly raised his head as he heard the sound again outside the door. A slight scraping sound that was just a bit too loud to ignore. Could have been a small animal, he thought. It probably was. But not a rat, or any other small vermin. No, it wasn’t quite quiet enough to be that. 

Could he write about that scratch?

It seemed to scratch an itch in his brain. Gave him some stimulation other than the loneliness he felt at the time. It was the kind of noise that made him want to jump out of his seat and do something crazy…like tear off his skin. Maybe he would write about that. The urge to tear off his skin. He wondered if it were possible to do so. Probably not, not without some sort of weapon. 

Maybe the sound was caused by just that. A weapon. A knife or even something like a screwdriver. Maybe there was a murderer out there, using the knife to pick at the walls like they would later pick at his skull.

Maybe they’d already done it. Maybe he was dead already, killed by that scratchy scraping noise and he was reliving the moment. Over and over and over again for the rest of eternity. It didn't feel too different from being alive though. No, when he floated like this, with nothing to ground him in reality except the single lonely light and that loudly quiet scratching, being alive felt exactly like being dead. 

He could write about that feeling. The feeling of floating. The feeling of nothing. Nothing except the dark and the light and the scratching. Maybe he could write about this little room in an abandoned house miles away from any civilization. 

It was on the door, he realized now. Not beside or behind, the scratching came from the door itself. Like something was clawing it’s way through the wood, like the murderer was coming to torture him to death and eat his heart afterwards for supper. Maybe they were. Maybe this was how it ended. Maybe this was death. 

The man opened his eyes. The light was still shining, cold and lonely in the otherwise dark room. He stood up, not that he felt it. He didn’t really feel anything. He didn’t recognise the chill in his bones, or the feeling of his limbs moving. He stood and looked around the small room and realized that he was all alone. The scratching had stopped. Maybe it had disappeared. Maybe it had never existed in the first place. Maybe he was insane. 

He walked towards the heavy wooden door. He moved his fingers towards it, almost unconsciously, and then stopped himself. 

Why open the door? Why leave this place? Why should he go, when he had spent so much effort and time? What was the point of all the money he spent on gas for his car, the fifty bucks he spent on a motel?

Maybe it was for inspiration. Maybe it was for the experience. Maybe it was for the murderer who was waiting outside the door, waiting with a knife or a screwdriver. 

Maybe there was no reason. Maybe he didn’t come here for the inspiration at all, but for the quiet, the darkness, the nothingness. 

Maybe he came here for the scratching. For the noise that might not even exist. 

Maybe he should stop trying to make this something profound and just open the door. 

He reached his hand to the wood and pushed it open. It made a creaking sound as it swung on its hinges and there was the sound of silence immediately afterwards. 

There was darkness. Darkness lit only by two pinpricks of red light, coming from the face of the man made of nothing. His figure stood motionless and silent as he turned to look around the hallway and at the space outside the door, his frame lit only by a single, lonely light.

And he smiled. Eerie and silent, alone in an abandoned house, hours away from any civilization. 

Remus turned off the light, in his little lonely room, and he left. 

A knife stayed embedded in a thick wooden door.

[ofallthingsnasty]

hmmm thinking about being ‘napped by some monster again, this time it’s wild hunt flavored 🤤

[doredone]

if we’re being specific Garfield pinball, obviously, as any sane man would b

Question for you, what type of content do you GENUINELY enjoy watching, doesn’t matter the person that’s making it.

AND what would you like to see from me?

[virtuous-absolute]