#eye horror mention

[felixcosm]

When you just wanted to be loyal to your friend and you hated how your older versions treated him and you know they were planning to get rid of him so you start organizing a plan to stop them but you failed so you ended locked away in a windowless box for twenty years only to be brutally killed by a man you thought was your friend but clearly had no problem digging out your eyes to send a message and when the timeline gets corrected the people who used to know you find that their memories of you are fading fast, until you're just a ghost stuck in a previous time where you used to be someone they loved

#woe.begone #wbg spoilers #eye horror mention #the implication that innocent was still alive when eagle took out his eyes is so grisly

[monsterkissed]

there’s something really gross and pernicious about people responding to the (literally medically true) information that mental illness can compel people say unpleasant or even bigoted stuff with “oho but even if their malfunctioning brains forced them to say something they normally wouldn’t, where did that bad stuff hiding in their brain come from hmmmmm? i guess they were just secretly evil all along!!”

you know all those “hey everyone internalises the bigoted stuff in their society and has to unlearn that material” posts people reblog to seem switched-on and socially conscious? that’s where it comes from. i am a trans person with a trans-positive political position, but if you asked me: “hey T, can you give some examples of transphobic ideologies? can you think of things a transphobic person might say?” i can do that, because i live in a society where those ideas are common enough that i know what they look like. the reason i don’t say those things as if they were true is because a bunch of stuff in my brain has labelled that data as “utter bollocks” and “things that only deeply unpleasant people would say in conversation”

those labels are part of the structure and chemistry of my brain, and the brain is a physical organ that can be damaged. people’s brains fucking up in such a way that they either cannot distinguish those things any more, or even crossing wires to the extent that behaviours they find undesirable are now compulsive, is a legitimate and not-uncommon thing that happens. it’s not a sign that they were secret monsters all along and if you had the same condition or brain injury you would not be magically immune by sheer force of your good-personhood. everything you have ever believed, every memory and value and love and hate? is all just meat and goop up there. mush up the meat and mix up the goop enough and you’ll say and do anything. yes, even you. yes, even that. welcome to being human.

it is maddening that for so much of human history people with serious mental illnesses were assumed to be inherently lesser humans or immoral and depraved, and the developments that brought us to the point of saying “no actually, you are not a bad person for having a mental illness or brain injury, that’s unscientific and cruel nonsense” are still very much a new and unfinished developments in modern psych and it’s wild that some people on here are functionally more backwards than the people whose idea of psychiatric intervention was hammering picks into eye sockets

#mental health blogging #eye horror mention

[rulestill]

"Hey, Klaus, I know your secret. Everyone who hears your name shudders with fear, thinking of the Big Bad Wolf, but that's not your true title. The real one is 'Hayley's Babygirl', am I right?"

his temper slips , he lets @langdhon under his skin for a fraction of a second — touching a nerve would never be a hard task for whoever decided to mess with the hybrid , but it would easily become a bloody one . his human eyes allow the disguised evil creature behind them to show for that fraction of a second , eyes become bloody , veiny , a different colour altogether - but his pride wins and klaus is quick to correct himself not to give the other the satisfaction of seeing him like that . still , he talks through gritted teeth , not all of his temper had been easily tamed , it seemed . " you and i both know i could easily snap that doll neck of yours , candy from a babe , but then we also know that wouldn't put an end to my headache for long , am i right ? - you see i've come to think of you as my own personal punishment for all i have done in my long years , langdon . "

#i hope this is okay but oof michael really pissed him off this time asdjkl #tysm for this! #answered. #eye horror mention #tw eye horror

[vaeltan-louxser]

😰

(:3)

[Body horror/eye horror under cut, was feeling it tonight in this Chili's]

His nightmares are beset by flames.

Sickly yellow flames that flow and swirl like oil, but burn and dissolve him all the same.

Most instances, he’s alone, left to slog through a miasma-swamp of flame until his back curls over itself and he claws out his own eyes. This time, however, something - someone - accompanies him.

He can’t see who it is. They walk behind him, pushing him forward as he stumbles, the flames beneath him eating at his body the whole way. One step: his calves feel grainy, muscles cooked to horrifying perfection. Another step: he feels a tendon in his leg go slack and furl into uselessness. A final step: a bone in his foot crumbles and he falls-

-or, he would fall if not for his unseen companion, who catches and cradles him like a tired bairn.

He’s lifted and carried the rest of the way, though to where he knows not.

His companion speaks to him in words unintelligible. Their voice layers over itself a hundred fold, at once whispered and shrieking, soothing and acerbic.

It feels as if years pass before he’s lowered ever-so gently onto blisteringly warm, cracked stone. He’s maneuvered onto his back, and, for the first time, he beholds his companion’s face.

Dearly, he wishes he had gouged out his eyes like in every other nightmare.

Looming over him is another him.

Another Vaeltan, though one smiling with a smile he should have neither the mind nor the facial muscles to produce. One with eyes of that same yellow fire, spreading quickly through hair-thin cracks that loop and whorl across his stone-like skin.

It’s then when he - the real Vaeltan, he tells himself - realizes where he’s been deposited: in the palm of a mangled, three-fingered hand. A tight ring of stone slabs, imprinted with the same burning loops and whorls as the skin of the other Vaeltan, surrounds it.

A crucible.

Or, a cradle.

Slowly, with a series of bone-rattling cracks, the fingers arc up and over him, wrapping him in a searing embrace. The last thing he sees is his doppelgänger’s grinning face crumbling away, leaving only a vortex of liquid yellow fire in its place.

A promise.

A destiny.

May Chaos take the world.

Vaeltan opens his mouth and tries to scream as he burns-

-but his throat is filled with eyes.

#ask answers #body horror mention #eye horror mention #vae's nightmares get bad especially after he gets omen'd #lots of frenzied flame

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My boyfriend started this new research project where he replaced the eyes of spiders with tiny LED headlights so you could tell where spiders are.

#dream #nightmare #horror #spider #spiders #arachnophobia #arachnophobia tw #spiders tw #eye mention #eye horror

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Some kind of creature, mayhaps... to me...

#Yes I'm going insane due to multiple factors #valak #valak conjuring #the conjuring 2 #the conjuring universe #the nun 2018 #the nun 2 #horror movies #snake's art #On the other hand I have seen multiple people mention that her eyes were really pretty in The Nun 2 for seemingly no reason so that's funny

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

SUMMARY: A surgeon causes an accident which leaves his daughter disfigured and goes to extreme lengths to give her a new face.

Fun fact: this film is also known as Les yeux sans visage.

The mod has not seen this movie but the imagery looks really cool. For example, the still above looks so uncanny, it just seems like such an interesting movie.

#eyes without a face (1960) #medical horror #1960s #france #italy #european movie #mentionable warning #suicide #horror #movies #poll #more than 50% havent heard

[dragongirl642]

The Eyes are the Windows to the Soul (part 3)

Masterlist

First < > Previous < > Next

Ooh it was a close call, but on this poll, option 2 - "The real Cameron comes home, a fight breaks out, and reader chooses Not-Cameron." won.

Trigger warnings: Gore. Body horror. Mentions of domestic abuse. Death/murder. Uncanny valley.

So without further ado, here is part 3.

---------------- Start -----------------

You're humming.

A jaunty little tune you can't remember the origin of. Stood in your kitchen mixing up a bowl of bread batter.

It's been seven months since Not-Cameron arrived.

Seven calm and strangely lovely months.

Even if the occurrences have been getting more frequent. You've grown to almost expect them, and so they have become less frightening. Not to mention that the more affection you've accepted from Not-Cameron, the more distance and space the occurrences have given you.

You suspect the occurences were Not-Cameron checking on you when he "wasn't there" to see if you were trying to leave or secretly call the police or something.... Classic doppelganger horror stuff.

But you never ran to a neighbour for help running away or called the police. You acted perfectly normal and unnasuming.

Not-Cameron has been steadily relaxing around you. A little slower to stop their purrs when you move. Their dopey love struck grins are a little toothier than normal. Hugs feel a little squishier than they should. But honestly, you've found their quirks...cute.

You kissed them last week.

You've been kissed by them before obviously; accepting just a few kisses and cuddles from them so they don't realise you know they're not the real Cameron was part of your plan to stay alive after all. But it has always been Not-Cameron asking and initiating the affection.

Last week that changed.

You kissed them first. It was just a kiss on the cheek and the admission that you missed them all day. You swear they had literal hearts in their eyes, when you followed up with a chaste peck on the lips before going back to finish your own work.

You may have followed up with a few more chaste kisses and a hug or two in the following week. And who could blame you if you needed cuddles after a tiring day. Not-Cameron has soaked up any and all affection you give, and you may have found yourself chasing that little loving glint in their eye.

For three months now, you've felt different, lighter, almost on cloud nine.

It took you a while to realise what the feeling was...confidence.

You can't say the look of awe and love Not-Cameron gave you when you wore the vibrant blouse the real Cameron had said "made you look tacky" didn't feel cathartic.

Your colleagues have noticed something is different about you. You've gotten a few compliments for your work and comments on your bright mood. You've even been to a few of the company social nights and gone out to the movies with friends, some things you never had time for when Cameron was in charge of your social calendar.

It's been tranquil.

Not-Cameron has even started warning you in advance of which evenings they will disappear on.

One of which is tonight.

You pour the batter into a tin and set it inside the hot oven.

There's a pounding on the door. Insistent and demanding.

You grab a knife and creep out into the hallway, eyeing the silhouette on the other side with caution.

You've left your phone on charge in your room upstairs, so you inch towards the landline on the little table in the hallway. Eyes never leaving the swaying shadow through the porch window.

You pick up the phone, quickly dialing 999 when the shadow suddenly ducks down out of sight. It lurches back up and there's the sound of the key in the lock.

You back away quickly, ducking around the corner of the door to the kitchen. The phone vibrates as you press call.

Your boyfriend stumbles inside. His clothes are torn and he has multiple scratches on the sides of his face, neck, and arms. Crusted dark stains down his sides and shoulders, flake of bits of dried blood as he almost falls into the wall.

Out of instinct, you drop the knife and phone on the table as you rush forward to support them.

"Cameron what..." you pause. His eyes are brown. This is the real Cameron.

He's come back.

For the real Cameron to be here, it stands to reason something terrible happened to Not-Cameron.

Making another split-second decision, just like the one you made all those months ago, you decide to pretend like you never noticed the switch and just deal with Cameron's injuries before wrestling with the moral guilt of realising you're disappointed to see your old boyfriend instead of his more-loving replacement.

"What happened? We need to get you to a hospital." You turn to grab your car keys, but the sudden collapse of Cameron causes you to change plans and instead support him to walk into the living room.

He's muttering under his breath. Practically raving with no meaning; spouting over and over the words, "no change", "my face", "that thing" and "have to escape."

You set him on the sofa and fetch a glass of water for him. He drinks like a man who's been lost in a desert, uncaring of the rivulets spilling out of the cup and down his face and chest as he greedily gulps the precious liquid.

You internally cringe at the wet patch and blood stains sticking to your sofa as he leans back.

"Cameron. What happened? Should I get you to a hospital." You keep your voice soft, gently probing for information.

He seems to calm down slightly after the drink.

____ A voice calls your name from the hallway; (Not-)Cameron's voice.

"It's here," Cameron whispers, voice cracking into a squeak at the end as he grabs your wrist and pulls you into the kitchen.

Just as you both duck into the kitchen, your ears pick up the soft pat-pat of footfalls entering the living room behind you.

Keeping up the charade of ignorance, you whisper. "What is..." A sharp pain lances through your cheek and you fall silent.

Cameron slapped you. A quick whipping motion with his hand, not enough to bruise or damage you, but enough to set your cheek stinging. You're momentarily stunned by the sudden rush of familiar fear and shame that you mutely stumble along behind him as he drags you along.

His pace quickens to a run when a horrifying nails-on-chalkboard demented shriek suddenly comes from the living room. Primal fear floods your being, your heartbeat races and you scramble behind Cameron through the other door into the hallway, up the stairs and into the bathroom.

The lock clicks into place and you retreat back to kneel in the gap between the sink and the shower door. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear that shriek instilled in you temporarily narrows your vision to a pinprick. You focus on your breath, clasping your hands in front of you and squeezing them together hard.

"Where are you?" You hear the muffled voice of Not-Cameron call from downstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Cameron tucks himself down to kneel beside you and he hisses. "Stay fucking quiet."

You don't answer or even look at him. Focusing on calming yourself quickly so you can figure out how you are going to survive this confusing situation.

"Love, please! Come out!" There's a note of panic in Not-Cameron's voice, a rising shrill sound that sets off an uncomfortable vibration in your teeth and yet also a deep base vibration you can feel in your chest. "Where are you? I'm sorry. I can explain." Their voice grows more distorted as a shadow creeps past the door.

Even through your fear, the sound of their panic tugs at your heartstrings. Your happiest memories from the past few months suddenly flash in your mind's eye.

You come to a decision.

The calls of Not-Cameron fade, then come back, then fade again. From the distance of the calls, they've probably checked your bedroom and the office, they'll either check the guest room or the bathroom next.

Slowly under the pretext of getting more comfortable, you shift to a crouch and brace one foot back ready to run.

Cameron looks at you with a stern glare his black-eye fails to hide. Covering for your motion, you immediately fawn, twisting to grab the long-handled brush from the shower and making a show of bracing to fight.

He nods at you and turns to grab the toilet plunger from behind him. Once he turns, quite stiffly and slow due to his injuries, you move. Springing forward and sliding the lock before he can turn back and slipping through the door just as he lurches to his feet.

The hallway is dark and empty, swallowing your call of "I'm here!" like the void of space.

You falter at the unnatural silence and suddenly pain blooms behind your eyes as your head snaps back against the wall. Bruising pain jumps from your arms to you chest to your head.

Cameron's hands are on your throat.

"You." Speckles of saliva splatter your face as he hisses at you. "Fucking shh."

It's getting harder to breath. His hands are too tight, cutting off your precious oxygen.

You lash out with the long-handled brush, it almost collides with his head but he blocks it ripping it from your grasp before turning to choke you again with a blank hateful look. But the distraction helped to lower the pressure on your throat.

It takes all your strength to utter the word: "help."

Cameron is ripped from your vision in a blur of grey and red. You collapse as the pressure around your neck disappears, gasping for air.

It's dark, but in the light coming through the window at the end of the hall from the street lamps outside, you can make out the details of the thrashing figures only four feet away from you.

Cameron is on the ground, swears and angry screams stream from his mouth as his hands scratch and swing at the creature pinning him to the ground. He attempts to pry off the huge clawed hands holding him down by his shoulders and tries to punch the creature in its ribs, but he can't get enough force behind his fists.

The creature doesn't flinch, just releases a low growl as it hunches over Cameron.

It is humanoid, but its arms and legs are just too long, and the bones of its spine jut out along its back. It is wearing clothes; you recognise the flannel cardigan and jeans combo Not-Cameron was wearing when he left the house earlier. From what you can see of its neck and the ends of the limbs poking out from its sleeves and trousers, its skin is silvery-grey, but it's thin and almost looks like clingfilm, the shining red of its muscles is visible as they stretch and contract beneath the translucent skin. It's hair is pitch black, standing on end and shifting, reminiscent of a wind ruffling a field of corn.

Suddenly, in a motion so quick it appears to be a blur, the creature's head snaps down towards your former boyfriend.

Cameron's screams are cut off by a squelch followed by a wet gurgling that slowly goes quiet with a crunch.

Just as quickly as it started, it's over. The creature draws it's head back up before flicking it, flinging something heavy down the hall. You can just see the edges of the bloody mess that is all that remains of Cameron's neck past it's claws.

All falls still.

Deafening silence consumes your fear.

The creature begins to shake.

You can only watch in horror as it appears to distort and melt and crack and shrink.

Protruding bones retract back into its back, claws shrink, and limbs recede into its sleeves. A pearlescent liquid seems to ooze out from the muscles beneath the skin, swirling and filling the space beneath, hiding the muscles from view before changing colour. The sound of cracking bones and wet squishing sets off an uncomfortable feeling in your teeth.

Before it finishes transforming, it turns to look back at you.

You can't help but let out a gasp.

Glowing silvery-blue irises in blacked-out eyes stare at you from above a stretched-out grin full of sharp teeth. A string of bloody drool hangs from their chin.

Half-of it's face appears almost manequin-like, but from the other half the recognisable face of Not-Cameron stares.

Their skin swirls and distorts, the cloudy ooze beneath their skin floods the right side of their face first, before curling over to the left and solidifying. A ripple runs through their skin as it twists and distorts, growing to mirror the features on the other side to form the recognisable face of Cameron. With a series of spine-tingling cracks, their sharp teeth begin to snap into their gums and out of sight, leaving a set of pearly rounded normal teeth behind.

All goes still and, if not for the gash on their forehead leaking red and the blood drenching their clothes, Not-Cameron looks exactly as they did when they left you earlier today.

Except for their eyes. Glowing silver and devouring black, staring at you with an unreadable emotion.

You don't move. While your brain tries to process what you're seeing, fear and a tinge of confusion keep you rooted to the spot.

Not-Cameron stares.

-----------------End---------------

First < > Previous < > Next

Extra note: There is one more part and then it's over. Ooh, I can't wait (and I'm the one having to write it 🤣).

#shapeshifter x reader #mimic x reader #doppelganger x reader #doppelganger #mimic #shapeshifter #monster x reader #monster x you #the eyes are the windows to the soul #gore #death #uncanny valley #mention of domestic abuse #scary #creepy #body horror

[unsat-and-strange]

jonny d'villes heart ticks audibly. the crew can hear it during the few and far between quiet moments on board the aurora. it's so steady, tick tick tick, a reminder that he is there and they are all alive together, never speeding up or slowing down. sometimes they joke about using it as a metronome during practice.

jonnys heart ticks. he can hear it every waking moment. tick tick tick. it never slows down, even in the deepest sleep according to the rest of the crew. it never speeds up even when his blood is more adrenaline then actual blood, times when normal peoples hearts would be racing. whether he's laughing his ass off or terrified for his life (I guess old habits die hard?) it. never. speeds. up. sometimes it's fine, he can ignore it but there are days when the constant tick tick tick tick tick tick tick is too much. the days when he has to drown out the sound with gunfire and screams or music loud enough to make his ears bleed. some days even that barely cuts it and he debates putting a bullet in his head just to make it quiet for a few hours. the rest of the crew has gotten pretty good at recognizing those days, and they know how to help him get through them, just like he knows how to help his crew through their bad days. nastya will bring him into the near deafening engine room and theyll play with power tools until their hands are covered in grease and grit, or Tim will sit him down on a speaker and play the bass so loud the whole ship can feel it, or Marius and raphaella will tell him about unethical medical practices they've witnessed/performed or Brian will just hold him close until the rhythms of the metal man's body distract from the tick tick tick tick of his own heart. the constant tick of immortality is loud. jonny can't deny his luck in finding a crew that is almost always louder.

#ebb rambles #the mechanisms #sorry guys jonny got into my brain #ending feels kinda weird I think I had this better worded in my head but hey whatever I guess #jonny dville #should I tags this for body horror? maybe a little? #body horror #I saw some post about how Tim's eyes should be unsettling and I've been kinda inspired with the idea of unsettling mechs #when my thoughts on the subject are a bit more in order I'll make a coherent post about it but for now you get jonny and his heart :) #kinda want to draw something based around this but haven't figured out what #ebb writes some stuff #poetry #kinda #I guess #should probably tag the other mechs I mentioned lol #gunpowder tim #nastya rasputina #marius von raum #raphaella la cognizi #drumbot brian

[saintbleeding]

[ID: Digital shoulders-up painting of Agnes Montague from The Magnus Archives styled after the cover art for The Fool In Her Wedding Gown by The Crane Wives. Agnes is a white woman with red hair, freckles, and blue-green eyes. She is wearing a conservatively high-necked white wedding gown and a veil made of spider silk. Instead of a flower, there is a shrunken, petrified hand with two wrist bones sticking out of it securing her veil. There is a noose of rough rope around her neck, and the bouquet in her hands is smouldering, with bits of ash drifting away in the breeze. Her expression is sad, and mascara runs down her cheeks from her tears. End ID.]

im not the only one who sees this right

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fanart #the crane wives #the fool in her wedding gown #agnes montague #tma agnes #i care about her the normal amount #devastatingly and maddeningly in other words #my #saint draws #flames #eye contact #body horror #suicide #suicide mention #noose

[capn-twitchery]

@thedeafprophet re: your last post: i KNEW i had a screenshot somewhere

#fredspeaks #i wish you could add images to replies i didn't wanna reblog & derail your post with princess diana FSGCBCNDK #ok edited to crop out eye horror mention #i didn't see it my bad

[crazysnor1ax]

SCR? I hardly know her

Inkblot Disease and Iramalac are both creations of @cuddledot

#the recent popularity of SCR reminded me of Inkblot’s existence and my old obsession with it so I did this sketch for funsies :3 #not to mention I used to LOVE iramalac (infected Callie and Marie for those unaware) so what better way to draw this freaky disease than #with my old fav :3 #and for a sketch this one didn’t come out too bad I don’t think! #snorlarts #sketches #inkblot disease #callie cuttlefish #marie cuttlefish #callie splatoon #marie splatoon #squid sisters #splatoon au #Splatoon #splatoon horror #body horror #eye horror

[mistermedic]

eye

+ some close ups :)

This looked WAY better in my head

#Tf2 #demoman tf2 #tf2 demoman #red demoman #tf2 fanart #artwork #art #my art #digital art #style test #art style #spoopy #tw eye contact #Horror #Tf2 horror #tw gore mention #:) #I’m great at tags #I guess

[eyeballsoup7310]

Can’t wait till we have enough LN protagonists to fill out all the Fears

Mono- Spiral (do I even have to say anything?)

Six- Flesh (body horror and cannibalism? Come on!)

Raincoat Girl- Vast mayhaps (get vanished)

Noone- easy, Corruption (transcripts courtesy of these posts)

Runaway kid isn’t touched by any specific entity he’s just living through hell

Additionally, the world of Nowhere would absolutely just be claimed by the Eye. I think we all already knew this though

#just talking #little nightmares #the sounds of nightmares #tson #TMA #the magnus archives #TMA spoilers #eye warning #bug warning #sickness mention #cannibalism mention #body horror tw #long post

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My aunt was in a cult and one of the many things she was told to do was to pull out my right eyeball, it was okay though cause she replaced it with a eye that had a opal colored iris.

#dream #text #September 9th 2023 #cult #cult tw #aunt #family #body horror tw #eye mention #queueueueueueueueueueueueueue

[lethbrigadier]

PEOPLE WHO HAVE SURVIVED RITUALS

#THERE'S SOMETHING IMPORTANT ABOUT PEOPLE WHO HAVE SURVIVED RITUALS #I JUST KNOW IT #the magnus protocol #tmagp #magp 10 #tmagp spoilers #if 'Introducing Beth Eyre as [Error]' #is supposed to be lucia wright from the flesh ritual episode #and we already have celia and a georgie mention #that doesn't explain gertrude and gerry but they could be the red herring #but then who's the canary? #listen ok listen #jonah? #we know the web box can store entities #and jonah body hops by switching eyes #redcanary guy found an empty box and there was implied eye gore/transformation #personally i don't think this theory is anything cause i feel like #the whole point of this podcast is that it's NEW #new horror new characters and all that #i guess it really depends on who /if any/ is from the tma universe #ANYWAY WHO WANTS TO TALK ABOUT THE MUSIC IN THIS EPISODE DURING THE STATEMENT #GENUINELY CREEPED ME OUT MORE THAN ANY MAGNUS EPISODE EVER HAS