Horror Writing - Tumblr Posts

The man hefted his bounty in his hand, the fur still warm.

where is my skin... the animal thought desperately, feeling the blood drip from its skull. -

- - - -

just trying to broaden my writing, ABSOLUTELY LATE but i still love the two sentence horror story things :)

also feel free to use any of my writing for an inspiration! just please be sure to credit me or link me for the idea! i dont mind!

The Rocks

I think I like this fantasy/horror writing thing. Look forward to more of these type of stories in the future, anyway. Enjoy!

There was a disturbance in the water. Usually, I knew everything that was in the frigid depths. The fish that went around and around until their deaths. The plants that waved endlessly in the currents, and the rocks that stood unmoving slowly being eroded by the waves. That day was different, something big was moving through the water and it was coming right for us. I smiled, showing each and every one of my razor-sharp teeth it had been so long since I had tasted flesh, I could barely contain myself.

I barely even thought of the route I was taking, I retraced the route by memory, all my attention was focused on moving my tail as fast as possible. The closer I got to the cave, the more my stomach rumbled. I had swum out pretty far, so by the time I got back to the cave evening light was already filtering through the water. When I swam into the entrance of the underwater cave Katla was already curled up her seaweed blanket covering her tail. I saw that her eyes were open, she was staring up at the cave ceiling spacing out.

“Hey,” I said to her, still smiling from ear to ear, “Guess what’s coming.”

Katla sighed, releasing an air bubble into the dark blue water, “Let me guess, another boat?”

I giggled, Katla was always so crabby when she was tired, “Very close, not a boat, a ship. It’s going to be here tomorrow, just think we haven’t had any real food all month.”

Katla yawn and rolled over onto her side, “If it’s coming tomorrow, then tell me tomorrow. Right now I don’t care.”

I groaned and swam over to our food box. It was empty, as usual, I could feel my stomach eating itself as I thought about all the food that was coming the next day. Katla might have been satisfied eating fish, but something about their scaley, slick skin made me gag. I smiled wistfully, I could almost taste their hearty, bloody flesh on my tongue. I told myself that in the morning I should practice my singing, but I knew that I wouldn’t.

I went over to my sleeping spot and stared up at the cave ceiling. I tossed and turned, trying and failing not to think about all the meat I would eat the next day. I knew that if I didn’t sleep I couldn’t sing, and if I couldn’t sing I would probably starve. I swam sleepily over to Katla’s sleeping place and cuddled up to her. Feeling the tepid warmth of her skin had always made me feel safe, and I was finally able to fall asleep.

The next morning I woke up to the feeling of vibrations through the water. The ship was coming and it was close. Katla was still sleeping, I tell by the steady back and forth motion of the gills on her neck. I knew that it would be better if she woke up on her own so I quietly left the cave. I peeked my head out of the water and saw the clouds gathering in the predawn sky, by now I could hear the ship gliding through the dark choppy water. I knew that I had about three hours before us, and I intended to use every second.

I went over to my usual practice spot and hoisted myself not very gracefully up onto the seat of the rock. When the sun was at its peak it was almost torturing to expose my entire body to the air, but during the morning and at night especially it was tolerable. I coughed as my body switched from breathing with gills to my feeble and underused lungs. I had heard from Katla that other sirens in the tropics stayed above the water almost all day, and I never believed her. Just sitting on the rock on a cloudy day dried out my skin and scales so much that I could barely stand it. I closed my eyes and tried to focus, took a deep breath and began to sing. My voice rose and fell and I could feel the water move with it. I opened my arms and mist swirled around me. My head started to ache as I tried to maintain it. Newly formed waves crashed against the rock as I warbled my heart out to empty sea. After twenty minutes of my voice being in perfect harmony with the oceans I slumped, chest heaving, against the slick rock.

“I must be out of practice,” I laughed to myself, “Alright I can’t rest forever, I have to get back to practicing.”

After a few hours of practicing I could see the ship approaching. Its scratched wooden hull sliced through the icy waves as its sails flapped softly in the feeble breeze. I could see the men on boards ragged clothes and drained slouching. Perfect I thought to myself, they are much easier when they haven’t slept.

“Having fun?” Katla asked, trying to pull herself onto the rock.

I pulled her up next to me and smiled,” Lunch is here, of course, I am excited.”

“Then let’s start the show, shall we.”

I looked at her strangely,” Shouldn't we wait until they are closer?”

Katla laughed and patted my head, “You still have so much to learn, Eva.”

She started singing, her voice dipping low, calling the sea to her command. The waves crashed violently, rocking the ship that was steadily approaching. I didn’t want to miss the action so I started singing as well. I called the mist to my side and released it onto the surface of the water, making sure that no sailor could see us. After ten minutes the ship was finally upon, and our final song could begin. With each note, our appearance changed. Slimy stringy hair became lush and voluminous. Pointed, yellow teeth became small and vibrantly white. Scales appeared so shimmery that they glowed. With our song, we commanded their minds to think of nothing but us. Well not the real us, the us they saw, the us they believed, the us they wanted. As they jumped from the deck of the ship I could see the lust in their eyes, though it was nothing compared to my own hunger. I could smell them in the water and I willed them to come closer so that I could finally feast.

One man, he appeared to be very strong, reached our rock and started to climb towards us. I could see his eyes shining as he got closer and closer, reaching for what our songs had promised him. Katla looked at me and I could tell from her gaze that this one was all mine, she never had liked them muscular. I bent over and looked the man in the eyes, he smiled from ear to ear. I opened my mouth and bent low to his neck, sinking my teeth in as rich, red blood gushed into my mouth. I tried to savor the taste, but I always ended up drinking it as fast as I could. The man looked shocked as I pulled away, the illusions my song had created flickering away one by one. In his dying moments, he could see me for who I truly was, and he was horrified. He tried to call out to his shipmates, but it was too late, our songs had already pierced their hearts, and they were slaves to their desires. I always loved the look that they had right before they died, a look of total shock, mixed with fury, with a little bit or surrender. It was priceless. I tossed the body behind me so that I could focus on the task at hand.

Another man was approaching, this one was Katla’s. I raised my voice as she stopped singing, and kept the illusion alive while she feasted. I stared at her out of the corner of my eye as she bent low to look at the sailor who had come to her. She opened her mouth wide and used her strong teeth to bite through the sailor’s skull and take a bite of his brain. I turned my head to stare at her as she gnawed at the pink squishy interior. I loved the look on her face as she tasted her first bite of flesh, one of pure ecstasy. When the sailor died she tossed his body overtop mine and stared hungrily as the rest of them as they hoisted themselves onto the rock, and climbed to toward the faces their minds had created. The last faces they would ever see.

Thanks for reading, have a stellar day!

Drugged

Whumpee: Dzagokü

Whumper: Ingvarin

CW: Abuse, broken bones, needles, spiders, body horror, hallucinations, mentions of childbirth, dead dove. Reader discretion is advised.

------

“Please, I’m sorry!” Dzagokü cried, struggling against Ingvarin who had grabbed both of his arms and was dragging him towards the basement door. “I’ll wear the clothes you picked for me, I’m sorry!” Ingvarin didn’t listen, instead slightly baring his teeth as he pushed the boy against a wall by the basement door, banging his head against it. Dzagokü cried out at the sudden pain, his vision slightly blurring as Ingvarin tightly grasped his neck. Ingvarin reached in his own pocket for a key, before putting it inside the door. Dzagokü grabbed on his arm, trying to pull against it whilst he weakly screamed, his teary eyes wide with fear.

“Shut up!” Ingvarin roared through gritted teeth, pulling on his neck and shoving him down the small flight of stairs. Dzagokü weakly moaned as his body slammed against the dirty concrete floor. The boy felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and there was a faint ringing in his ears. He began screaming in panic again as Ingvarin grabbed his neck, dragging him to a restraint on a wall in the room. There was a dirty mattress under the device.

“Please, please no no!” Dzagokü began to sob hysterically as Ingvarin attached the collar tightly around his neck. The boy desperately clawed at the restraint, as Ingvarin walked away before opening a box at the other end of the room. Dzagokü curled into a ball, sobbing into his knees and tugging at his restraint. Ingvarin pulled out a needle barrel from inside the box. The barrel had green, thick liquid inside, and there was a pack of needles next to it. Ingvarin grinned. He grabbed a thin piece of rope that was also in the box and walked over to the boy.

“I need you to stay still, okay?” Ingvarin said in a deep, crisp voice. Dzagokü quickly shook his head, still clawing at the restraint. Ingvarin growled, before kicking the boy's wrist as hard as he could, snapping it with a sickening crunch. The boy screamed harrowingly at the sudden agony, shakily caressing his wrist though trying to remain still. His wrist was swollen and purple, with a small protrusion of skin where the bone had shifted. Dzagokü whimpered in fear and agony, tears streaming down the boy’s face. Meanwhile, Ingvarin was attaching the needle to the barrel.

“Shh, it’s okay…” Ingvarin whispered, bending down and stroking the boy’s fluffy, brown hair. Dzagokü lay down on the mattress under him, putting his knees up to his chest as Ingvarin tightened the rope around his arm. The boy was too preoccupied with his broken wrist to notice, though his eyes widened in fear as he felt the needle being injected into his vein.

“W-What are you doing to me?” Dzagokü yelled, looking over at Ingvarin. He didn’t respond, instead wiping the small wound with a thin paper towel and loosening the rope. Dzagokü continued crying, holding his broken wrist in his good hand as Ingvarin gently stroked his arm.

“Let me look at this,” Ingvarin slowly whispered, softly grabbing the arm of his broken wrist. The boy whimpered and sniffled as Ingvarin cradled the wrist in his hands, gently running his thumb on the protruded bone. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” Ingvarin’s voice echoed around Dzagokü’s brain. The boy’s vision blurred though oddly became vibrant in colour, and he could faintly hear the sound of rain. His muscles also felt tense.

“H-hurts…” Dzagokü whimpered, his hands twitching. Ingvarin smirked as he continued to gently massage the swollen wrist. Dzagokü felt a strange bubbling under his skin, as if there were bugs under there trying to get out.

“What’s wrong?” Ingvarin asked, with a mock innocence as the boy stared at his arms in horror. His arms were covered in large, white blisters, and they were deforming in shape and seemed to be bubbling. One of the blisters, located near the broken wrist, had burst open. To the boy’s absolute horror, a wolf spider with thin, wriggling legs had begun to crawl out and onto his skin.

Dzagokü screamed at the top of his lungs, watching as another blister burst open, revealing another spider. And another. And another. And another. And another.

“Help! Help! Help me!” Dzagokü writhed quickly, the restraint tugging on his neck as he screamed in absolute terror. The room had begun to deform and shift in size, and he heard strange banging noises that felt like they were pulverising his skull. Ingvarin was nowhere to be seen. Dzagokü looked back at his arms. Some of the spiders were deformed and blurry, and seemed to float near him. Suddenly, a strange cacophony of violins blasted in his ears. Dzagokü covered his ears, but the noises were still deafening for him.

“Help… me…” the boy weakly whimpered. In a feeble attempt to comfort himself, he tried to think of his wife back home. Her beautiful face, and her comforting voice and touch. But then he remembered the birth of their son. How she screamed so painfully and writhed on the bed. He could do nothing to comfort her, and Ingvarin wasn’t doing anything to comfort him.

The spiders were no longer there. In fact, he didn’t seem to be in reality anymore. Strange, vibrant colours penetrated his vision, and his body felt like it was stretching and being torn apart. The only thing he could hear was the pained screams of his wife as she gave birth to their son.

Whumpee gets revenge on Caretaker

Warnings: Needles, Whumpee-turned-whumper, caretaker-turned-whumpee, handcuffs, threat of eye torture.

———

Whumpee was rather terrified of needles. So, when Caretaker had to administer an IV into them for their pain and injury medication, they’d expected Whumpee to be furious at them. And Whumpee was, in a way. But Caretaker never expected what they were capable of doing. They never expected to wake up after being knocked out from an argument earlier, strapped to an armchair in a dark room.

Caretaker’s eyes groggily opened, their body aching slightly. It was mostly in their wrists, where they felt something rough that was tightly and painfully wrapped around them. Groggily, Caretaker tried to move their hands, groaning tiredly at the tightness around them. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they noticed that they weren’t in their bedroom, like normal.

They were in a dark room with dirty walls, and a worn staircase leading to a brown, wooden door. The walls were fitted with old grey wallpaper, with some mould slightly forming in the corners of the room. Their feet trembling on the carpet below, Caretaker looked around them. They couldn’t see much, but they noticed that they were tied to an armchair, and that they were still in their hoodie from the night before. There was a small brown-ish stain of dried blood.

That’s when Caretaker remembered. Last night, they and Whumpee had got into another argument over the IV incident. Usually, Whumpee would be slightly argumentative for a few moments, before calming down and being overly apologetic to Caretaker. But this was different. Whumpee was incredibly aggressive that night. They were shouting and yelling louder than they usually did. Then, they punched Caretaker. Caretaker was much larger than them, but they clearly didn’t punch as well as they did to be knocked out.

Just then, Caretaker looked up, noticing the slow creak of the door. They squinted at the bright light which began to slowly reveal, only being obscured by the silhouette of Whumpee, who had brought what seemed to be a small, blue toolkit with them. Whumpee began to amble down the stairs. The worn stairs creaked with each step, Whumpee’s eyes focused on Caretaker. Despite their anger, there wasn’t any hate in their expression; only a haunted, confused but still somewhat enraged look.

“Whumpee?” Caretaker weakly asked, breaking what would have been the silence had they not been panting in fear and slight pain, “What are you doing?” Whumpee didn’t respond. Instead they placed the kit down, still staring at Caretaker as they carried on walking towards them until they found themselves chest-to-chest, Whumpee’s lower body squeezing against Caretaker’s plump stomach.

“You know why you’re here?” Whumpee asked, a little too quickly. Caretaker furrowed their brows, their mouth slightly hanging open. “You promised. You promised I’d never be hurt again.” Their voice broke into a whisper, though they quickly gained their composure. “You promised I’d never feel fear, yet you showed me my worst fear.”

“Whumpee…” Caretaker pleaded, their voice shaking and slow. “I said this many times before, if you never received that IV you’d be dead!” The sick feeling in their stomach grew as it was clear that Whumpee’s mind hadn't changed. Whumpee somehow inched closer to their face, breathing slowly and menacingly on their neck.

“You know how scared I am of needles. You know and you knew then how much Whumper used them.“ Whumpee spat, pushing themselves off of Caretaker. They walked over to the kit, the contents rustling slightly as they picked them up. Caretaker watched with their eyes wide, trembling against the chair. Whumpee slowly opened the kit, revealing a needle, the contents facing Caretaker’s direction. They screamed.

“Stop it!” Caretaker thrashed against the restraint, quickly shaking their head as tears began to form in their eyes. Their hands uncontrollably and desperately tried to seperate themselves from their restraint, metal digging into the skin and bruising it more. Whumpee smirked softly, seeing their panicked state.

“Relax,” Whumpee chuckled, “I’m gonna try not to hurt you, you need this to survive.” That was what Caretaker said to them. Slowly, they took the needle out of the kit, turning it towards Caretaker. Whumpee creeped over to them, watching their panic with glee. This was what they deserved. Whumpee brought out the needle, inching it closer to Caretaker’s face as they moved their head up, their terrified eyes still focusing on the needle.

“P-Please stop…” Caretaker whimpered. Their voice was trembling and high with fear. They weakly bared their teeth, still staring at the needle which was being inched close to their eye. Whumpee ignored them, continuing to push the needle forward until it was a few centimetres away from their eye. Caretaker squeezed their eyelids shut, unable to take the dread any longer. They could hear the quick pulse of their heartbeat drumming in their ears, along with the quick, sadistic breathing of Whumpee as they took pleasure in seeing their fear. Even with their eyes closed, they could sense the sadistic expression which Whumpee had on them.

“Hold still…” Whumpee whispered. It was also something that Caretaker said as they were administering the medicine into them, an attempt to calm them down at that moment. Whumpee slowly moved the needle to the right of their eye, before slowly pricking their skin, the needle shallow. Caretaker whimpered again, opening their eyes and looking over to where the needle had entered, a faint drop of blood slowly oozing out after Whumpee quickly released it before moving on to the other side, gently pricking that as well. Caretaker squeezed their eyes shut in fear and pain. They tried to keep their body as still as they could to prevent Whumpee from pricking their eye by accident, though their body was shaking quickly, especially their legs. After releasing the needle, Whumpee quickly dropped it on the floor, gently stroking where they pricked with their thumb, slightly coating their thumb in blood.

Carefully, Whumpee brushed Caretaker’s cheek before moving to the back of the armchair and releasing the metal restraints. Caretaker’s hands bled slightly from their tugging on the rough material. Caretaker immediately covered their eye, pressing on the tiny wounds as they sobbed.

“You know, I’d never actually stab you in your eye,” Whumpee chuckled, their tone much kinder than before. “Just some payback for how much you scared me.”

Chasm

Empty space stretches out in all directions away from you. On either side, two great walls boxing the world in between them. But it isn’t quite empty — in the distance there’s a rope bridge traversing the gap. Pff, as if anyone would have a hope of crossing that flimsy thing. The remnants of what looks to you like a previous bridge lies below it. And if you keep looking, even further back, there’s that—

No. You don’t want to think about that. You can’t help yourself, you shiver. You feel like it’s watching you. Whatever it is.

And then, in that awful emptiness, something falls. A disturbance, it catches your attention immediately. Instinctively you lean forward, tilting your head upwards to get a better look. On that blank white page, a thin black figure. No, it can’t be! A person, hanging there in the air — falling. You don’t even know if they’re alive; you don’t hear a scream.

And then you swear, you swear on this whole godforsaken place, that it looks up. You’re sure of it, its pupil has moved! As the person falls downwards, to eye level and past the rope bridge, that pupil follows it. As if pulled down by gravity too. And they fall a looong way down — god knows how far the bottom is. You hope not to find out. Yeah, let’s not think about that. You wrest your eyes back up from the depth and take a step back.

And then… then you know it’s just you and it. Alone. You get that horrible feeling again. Like it’s watching you. But the difference is, now you know it probably is. You can’t help it — you shiver.

I'm currently working on finding the original prompt for my "book".

It's more of a story since I doubt it'll be that long.

Althought I'm quite stressed with school and a few other more personal things, I'm still trying by best to keep up my beloved hobby and be a bit more frecuent with picking up my pen and letting the marvelous words flow.

I know it's going to be rather tough, but I like he challenge!!

Soon, I'll post the context for it, afterwards, I'll post the prologe and we'll see from then on!

Remember, take care of yourself, drink some water, eat a good meal, and take a nap if you need it.

welcome to the eclipse corporation

aka an intro post to this little extension of my brain! welcome, and feel free to say hi!! :)

Basics: Ethan, he/they, unfortunately British. I’m a gay-ace trans guy who lives in flannel shirts and I’m studying biomedical science at university with a specialism in neuroscience :)

Health stuff(?): gender dysphoria, history of SH and less-than-great eating habits, been dealing with trichotillomania (trich) since 2022, am possibly autistic but not 100% certain. I’ll post occasionally about stuff for awareness but not often <3

Fandoms:

- Dead Boy Detectives

- Supernatural

- Twenty one pilots

- Black Veil Brides

- Ice Nine Kills

- Palaye Royale

- My Chemical Romance

- The Umbrella Academy

- The Magnus Archives

- Red, White and Royal Blue

BVB and DBDA are my ultimate interests but I listen to a lot of other music (mainly metalcore and hard rock but also kpop, pop-punk and musical soundtracks) and I also love reading and writing horror and gay fiction.

Socials:

ao3: ethan_elliott

insta: ethan.ember

Rules:

- racists, transphobes, homophobes, bigots and jkr supporters DNI

- please do not plagiarise my writing or share it to other sites and no AI scraping

THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS FOR MEMBERS OF THE INFECTED WORLD ORGANISATION VIEWING ONLY

Welcome to the official channel for the Eclipse Corporation, a leading biopharmaceutical company working towards eradicating the Infection.

As a member of the Infected World Organisation, you will be privy to updates on Project Infection as written by Ethan Ember, a Lead Scientist and Communications Officer for the S. Infection Unit. The main public outcome of Project Infection is the Infected World Series, a 15-part ‘fictional’ psychological horror and science-fiction novel series. Of course, the details contained within are entirely true.

“His past was a series of tragedies, his history written not by the winners or the victims, rather the perpetrator, the villain of it all, left standing on an empty battlefield, destined never to join the skeletons beneath the ground but stay forever a living corpse”

and

“Or perhaps it was that he had seen eternity in that abandoned warehouse, and eternity had laughed as it showed him visions of a dying Earth, of the very end of time. He was the last of his kind and would stay that way until there was no one left to remember humanity’s existence at all, everything eventually lost to the relentless destruction of the universe except for the soul that seemed to have no place in the Afterlife.”

I am so Normal™️ about this book and it is so frustrating that I have to write three other books to get to this one because it just obliterates me

something something being doomed by the narrative for reasons you are unaware of so the cure that should have granted you peace does not work for only you, leaving you with a broken soul and the impending mortality of everyone around you

—

wip: The Consequence of Immortality

series: The Infected World Series (book 4)

©️ Ethan Ember (me) (do not plagiarise)

Last Line Game

(thank you to @sunnylemonss for the tag!!)

not a fanfic line since I haven’t got my head in that space rn but I rewrote the prologue of The Threshold Of Insanity, my main original wip, yesterday so a line from that:

“Andrew?” Jeremy calls through from the other room. “Who are you talking to?”

Eli shakes his head and presses his finger to his lips.

“No one.” I dry my hands, and when I look back at the mirror, Eli has gone. Still, there is a slight warmth at the back of my head that was not there before, oddly comforting. I take a deep breath and push down the handle to the bathroom door.

Time to face my new life.

[The Threshold Of Insanity is a new adult psychological horror book that follows the story of Andrew Morgan, a young vampire, as he moves to a new town for his final year of high school and unwillingly becomes the subject in an experiment to remove his soul. Ft. a mainly queer cast, m/m romance, friends to lovers, a chaotic friend group and very unreliable narration]

I’m not sure if any of my mutuals write but feel free to join on if you do!! :)

(tw: implied injury)

He laughs, though the sound is just as emotionless as his speech. “And on a night of great tragedy,” he recites, “Two souls will die and be reborn: the Catalyst and the Enigma. Together, they will bring humanity’s ruin, and it’s salvation.”

With a click, he pulls the trigger. I don’t hear the shot over the sound of the dripping.

The Threshold Of Insanity, Ch 2.2 - Lost

I was INSPIRED today by ambient horror music and channeling The Magnus Archives so wrote a good 1000 words of pure psychological horror and now I feel good about this book again

please has anyone on this site ever read the Warm Bodies series by Isaac Marion because I just finished re-reading The New Hunger and I feel like it’s a non-existent fandom but I need people to talk to about this book-

(there was also a film of Warm Bodies starring Nicholas Hoult in case other people like me didn’t originally know it was a book series)

I finished the post called "How To Scare Your Readers"

p.s please tell me if it needs to be labelled as mature :)

I'm so scared that I might hurt someone by calling it "for everyone" since I did mention typical horror stuff like "murder" but I don't know if just saying "murder" is enough to make something mature.

Hi. I'm new to requesting.

How do you write horror, and how do you write it good nail biting and very unsettling type of horror.

Thank you @differentnighttale for the request! I was wondering if you had more specific asks since there are various different types of horror stories and various different ways of making something horrifying.

Again, I am very willing to give you advice on writing horror and I just want to ask you for more details so I can give you the best of what I have to offer :)

Hiiiii wanted to reblog this cause I had more ideas for this

Still gonna tag it as a Slenderverse thing cause it feel like it still fits

First of all, for the whole youtube channel thing, I want to have it where the idea's are initially not uploaded by them but at some point someone (A,B,C or D no I still don't have names) decides to just start posting their pov and soon the others do too. Also I think I might have it where they still can't see each others videos right away, maybe later something happens and they can.

For like 'monsters' or maybe creatures? idk I have a rough idea for a kind of antagonist but I'm not sure yet.

Just wanted to update this cause I really do like this idea and would love to make it a thing. Or at least develop it more with people

Slenderverse(?) ARG idea (more so a ramble)

(Side-Note: This is mainly a ramble, like I've said twice already, so I don't really care about the grammar or spelling of this. Just getting my thoughts out somewhere, maybe I'll fix the it? idk)

Hi, just going to say it one more time, this a pure ramble and I'm just getting my thoughts out.

Like was around for the posting of Marble Hornets a while and basically I had an idea for an ARG late last night and to be honest while I'm not super sure if it's original or not mainly because nothing is really original nowadays and also I just like the idea, so please be forgiving.

I'm not sure what gave me the idea to be honest, since I was off in LaLa Land and procrastinating doing Uni work but, here's the rough outline:

There are three (maybe four) people, they don't know each other, they haven't even bumped into each other on the streets. Then one day one of them wakes up (Let's just call them A) and A finds a random camera recording them obviously they are like freaked out and try to get rid of it. It doesn't work and just appears again when they enter a new room this repeats for a bit before they just go "f--k it" and just take it with them, just recording their life (maybe some little weird stuff happens?). At some point (you can probably tell this is literally coming to my head as I go haha) maybe when A goes to bed or they drop the camera it goes 'missing'. But in reality it appears in one of the other peoples houses (B, C or D. I can't be bothered to think of names right now). B finds the camera, freaks out a bit, ends up just recording their day since they can't get rid of it, camera disappears at some point and repeat.

Camera appears in one of their houses -> the person takes the camera around with them (A does it with reluctance, B, C and D will all have their reasons/ motivations.) -> At some point the camera 'disappears' and moves to the next person (may be a random order) -> Repeat

There would be a YouTube channel where the videos appear. I don't really know what I have in mind for the channel I have 2 ideas. The first idea is that the people don't upload their respective video's they just appear on the channel, they have access of the channel but none of them can delete the videos. The second idea is that they do upload them as a way of just trying to make heads or tails of the situation. The one thing I'm not too sure on is the idea that they can't see the other's video's, like A can only see theirs but not B, C or D's.

To be honest this could be it's own thing and not a Slenderverse ARG, I think I just said Slenderverse cause camera's and supernatural stuff.

Still, unless I can get help or more time this will just be an idea. I think I'll just leave this here and add to it as I go. Still don't know if anyone will see this but at least I got my thoughts out there, so there we go

daily reblog although I should start making a masterlist lmao, I should learn how to do that

ARCHIVE: Nothing Ahead of Us pt.2 (Sean's Intro)

Written by JuniperDugong (Search JuniperDugong on TikTok for the up-to-date story)

Welcome (･ω<)☆

Hello and welcome my loves! I am JuniperDugong. || 20yrs old || Queer || AAPI || Affiliated networks: @k-labels

I write A LOT of fluffy domestic stuff and things based on the strange, obscure, and weird, teetering on horror concepts. If that's your thing then welcome babe! I occasionally interact with 18+ stuff, so beware when scrolling through my blog!!!

Multifandom: Seventeen, BTS, Jujustu Kaisen, Frieren: Beyond Journeys End, Dungeon Meshi, Kimetsu no Yaiba (+ others! Literally just ask)

Requests: OPEN (Please read my guidelines before requesting)

Last updated: 10/11/2024

All work belongs to @juniperdugong. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize without permission on ANY other platforms.

Masterlists

Seventeen Masterlist (Perfection Pt.6 OUT NOW) Anime Fics Masterlist

Welcome (･ω<)☆

Hello and welcome my loves! I am JuniperDugong. || 20yrs old || Queer || AAPI || Affiliated networks: @k-labels

I write A LOT of fluffy domestic stuff and things based on the strange, obscure, and weird, teetering on horror concepts. If that's your thing then welcome babe! I occasionally interact with 18+ stuff, so beware when scrolling through my blog!!!

Multifandom: Seventeen, BTS, Jujustu Kaisen, Frieren: Beyond Journeys End, Dungeon Meshi, Kimetsu no Yaiba (+ others! Literally just ask)

Requests: OPEN (Please read my guidelines before requesting)

Last updated: 10/11/2024

All work belongs to @juniperdugong. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize without permission on ANY other platforms.

Masterlists

Seventeen Masterlist (Perfection Pt.6 OUT NOW) Anime Fics Masterlist

Perfection {Teaser}

No one has looked at you like that. With such admiration, such kindness. Taking in all your details and intricacies. Playing with a piece of paper and through it piecing together what was meant to be you. Eyes glancing back and forth with a smile. Oh god, why did the mortician have to have such a sickly sweet smile as he looked at your corpse? Why did your soul not leave when it was meant to?

Pairing: mortician!mingyu x corpse!fem!reader

Genre: Mortician!au, Horror!au || Fluff, Crack (simply bc this concept is not normal in the slightest babes), Romance, Angst(?)

Warnings: Mentions of death, corpses, and gore (Nothing in depth and nothing intended to disturb) || Necrophilia(?), It's more like Necro-romance, aka romantic attraction to a corpse. || Nudity || {Please let me know if there are other warnings you would like me to add}

Teaser WC: 518

Songs that inspired this fic

A/N: Hey, people...First fic and it's one based on all the different renditions of Frankenstein...Because of course, I would. My incessant need to write stories with insane premises is shining right now. If you listen to the playlist I hope you don't mind the mix of goth, rock, and folk. Oh lord, in my mind I just feel like Mingyu would be the type of hopeless romantic to fall in love with a dead person. I hope y'all enjoy!

Not proofread!

Series Masterlist

He was oh so gentle with you. The way he was careful with his movements as he heaved your stretcher onto the table. Your eyes followed him as he went ahead and gathered various things from around the room. Setting them on a table near you. A deep breath settled in him as he scanned your body. You felt vulnerable in this state, not much you could do about it but still. He got a clipboard and read through it. As he did he circled you, tapping gently at different parts of your body as he went along. Assessing your situation and what he would have to make "presentable" no doubt. Then he stopped. Pausing as he made his way back towards your head. Another sigh as he gazed at you. "You were so pretty. I wish we had met under other circumstances y/n." If a heart was in your body it would be beating so fast right now. His hand reached out and grazed your forehead. Is he moving the hair from your face? If you had working veins you would be blushing wildly. This is crazy. You've decided that this is crazy. Your soul for some reason has decided to stick to your body instead of following the heavenly trumpets towards the pearly gates of paradise. And here you were, prisoner in your own skin, unable to move or speak or do much of anything. And the only thing on your mind is the man who is preparing your body??? Oh, Christ. What the actual hell is happening? Also, why does it seem like the mortician is just as invested in you? Are morticians supposed to have organ jars in their preparation rooms? You suppose they do take care of those sorts of things, plus he's the professional in this situation, right? "The more I look at you…The more I wish…What am I saying?" he shook his head with a huff. Your eyes were open, not like you could willingly close them, but you were somehow able to see in this state. You could see the way the protective gown fell on his arm, very faintly outlining some sort of muscle. The way his breath caught on the mask, not shallowly at all either, a heavy breath. Almost like when he looked at you you had taken it away and he was grasping to get it back. The gloves that held snug to his big fingers, his warm hands, the ones that graced you gently with every touch. So caught up in memorizing his features you hadn't noticed that he was tracing your inner arm and staring right back at your lifeless eyes. "Actually, you might be perfect and these might just be perfect circumstances y/n…" he tilted his head as he said those words, gazing deeply at all of you, taking you in like some person at the other end of the bar. Why was he walking away? What did he mean by perfect? Is he walking over with one of those jars right now? Lord, you should've followed the trumpets…

{Right on time, just minutes after voting closed, let me know what you think, love you all!}

Perfection {Teaser}

No one has looked at you like that. With such admiration, such kindness. Taking in all your details and intricacies. Playing with a piece of paper and through it piecing together what was meant to be you. Eyes glancing back and forth with a smile. Oh god, why did the mortician have to have such a sickly sweet smile as he looked at your corpse? Why did your soul not leave when it was meant to?

Pairing: mortician!mingyu x corpse!fem!reader

Genre: Mortician!au, Horror!au || Fluff, Crack (simply bc this concept is not normal in the slightest babes), Romance, Angst(?)

Warnings: Mentions of death, corpses, and gore (Nothing in depth and nothing intended to disturb) || Necrophilia(?), It's more like Necro-romance, aka romantic attraction to a corpse. || Nudity || {Please let me know if there are other warnings you would like me to add}

Teaser WC: 518

Songs that inspired this fic

A/N: Hey, people...First fic and it's one based on all the different renditions of Frankenstein...Because of course, I would. My incessant need to write stories with insane premises is shining right now. If you listen to the playlist I hope you don't mind the mix of goth, rock, and folk. Oh lord, in my mind I just feel like Mingyu would be the type of hopeless romantic to fall in love with a dead person. I hope y'all enjoy!

Not proofread!

Series Masterlist

He was oh so gentle with you. The way he was careful with his movements as he heaved your stretcher onto the table. Your eyes followed him as he went ahead and gathered various things from around the room. Setting them on a table near you. A deep breath settled in him as he scanned your body. You felt vulnerable in this state, not much you could do about it but still. He got a clipboard and read through it. As he did he circled you, tapping gently at different parts of your body as he went along. Assessing your situation and what he would have to make "presentable" no doubt. Then he stopped. Pausing as he made his way back towards your head. Another sigh as he gazed at you. "You were so pretty. I wish we had met under other circumstances y/n." If a heart was in your body it would be beating so fast right now. His hand reached out and grazed your forehead. Is he moving the hair from your face? If you had working veins you would be blushing wildly. This is crazy. You've decided that this is crazy. Your soul for some reason has decided to stick to your body instead of following the heavenly trumpets towards the pearly gates of paradise. And here you were, prisoner in your own skin, unable to move or speak or do much of anything. And the only thing on your mind is the man who is preparing your body??? Oh, Christ. What the actual hell is happening? Also, why does it seem like the mortician is just as invested in you? Are morticians supposed to have organ jars in their preparation rooms? You suppose they do take care of those sorts of things, plus he's the professional in this situation, right? "The more I look at you…The more I wish…What am I saying?" he shook his head with a huff. Your eyes were open, not like you could willingly close them, but you were somehow able to see in this state. You could see the way the protective gown fell on his arm, very faintly outlining some sort of muscle. The way his breath caught on the mask, not shallowly at all either, a heavy breath. Almost like when he looked at you you had taken it away and he was grasping to get it back. The gloves that held snug to his big fingers, his warm hands, the ones that graced you gently with every touch. So caught up in memorizing his features you hadn't noticed that he was tracing your inner arm and staring right back at your lifeless eyes. "Actually, you might be perfect and these might just be perfect circumstances y/n…" he tilted his head as he said those words, gazing deeply at all of you, taking you in like some person at the other end of the bar. Why was he walking away? What did he mean by perfect? Is he walking over with one of those jars right now? Lord, you should've followed the trumpets…

{Right on time, just minutes after voting closed, let me know what you think, love you all!}