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Tripping the Light Moderately Acceptable

@acceptableduraz / acceptableduraz.tumblr.com

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Geological horror. You find a geode and crack it open and the crystal lining its walls is human blood that can't be genetically matched to anyone. You find a human skeleton but every one of the bones is made from rock, a rock that you know can't be whittled into those shapes. You find layers of clay and loam that sport ancient fossils at the top and the still-rotting corpses of modern animals at the bottom.

This reminds me of the blood river in Antarctica. For like a century scientists had no clue why this river looked like, acted like, and felt exactly like blood. Turns out it’s just really high in iron.

"Blood River in Antartica" yeah right there's no way a river looks like bl-

...nevermind

Doesn't "skeletons made from rock" describe fossils of ancient animals, since they're not actually the bones? That said, the human skeleton would still be eerie because it would imply that there was somehow a human around in the Mesozoic era.

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The Most Suspenseful Scene in Perfect Blue

(trigger warning for blood)

You know, after having several years of experience working as a security guard in a parking garage, a certain scene in the Satoshi Kon movie, "Perfect Blue," hits differently.

I kept thinking what made the radio in the elevator scariest for me.

I'm a security guard who has worked in parking garages like this for a few years now, particularly in an elevator lobby. I've used elevators like this one all day every day for years. And the thing that sticks out to me the most, is that for the most part, these elevators move at a moderate pace. Even the slowest ones will get you to your floor in a few seconds, but it still takes some time for it to reach the bottom and open the doors automatically. But, they go just slow enough, that if someone was really hurrying down the stairs, they could beat the elevator to the bottom floor, easily, even if they started on the same floor. I see it every day.

And at the beginning of this scene, we see him find the note on his car, and we figure, huh, some lousy punks are pranking me, they probably did this some time while I was at work and are long gone by now.

But then, we hear the music coming from the elevator and it completely recontextualizes his feelings of safety and mundanity in this situation. Now we think, what if whoever left the note on his car... What if they aren't gone? What if they're still around...?

And then we watch him carefully approach the elevator with unease,

So then when the doors actually open we're expecting to see the killer, but we don't. Instead we see the floor of the elevator, and it's red. (That is far from a common color for elevator floors I'll just say that,)

This was intentional, to contrast the blue radio, and give the environment around it a sense of danger.

Because as soon as you see the blaring radio on the red floor of the elevator, your gut wrenches as you realize, the killer isn't in there. But someone put that radio blaring that Cham song that loudly on that elevator, at that moment he was there, on purpose.

Specifically because they wanted him to be looking down, at the elevator, with the music blaring so it drowns out all other sound behind him, which is even louder in big echoey parking garage, and be so puzzled, he's not even not thinking about what could be behind him.

And that's when you realize what's about to happen but it's already too late.

Absolutely chilling.

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pointnclick

Don't name horror movies stuff like "Calibre" or "Us" anymore. Name them like an academic paper "Lost in the Woods in Sweden: How Some Hikers Really Fucked Up"

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appendingfic

Also make sure the title does not make fans of a popular video game series snicker at hearing it

“Revving-up for Destruction”: The Figure of The Chainsaw Both Outside and Inside of Teenagers’ Thoracic Cavities

The Effect of Extra-Normal Disturbances Upon the Nocturnal Habits of White Suburban Home-Owners

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I love caves as a horror theme but I HATE when there are things in the caves. Horror writers utterly ruin cave stories by not realizing that the cave itself is the monster.

It’s fine when caves are a gateway that something is coming through, or the cave is somehow alive and malicious, or if the only monster is what the narrator brings in with themself, but I hate hate hate when writers expect me to be creeped out by spelunkers being menaced by creatures that live inside the cave.

my beloved mutual, I agree that every labyrinth needs its minotaur

but the horror of a labyrinth from the perspective of Theseus is nothing like the horror of a labyrinth from the perspective of the Minotaur… a cave is horrifying because the Earth built it to contain you

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Love Everlasting #1 (January 31, 2022)

writer: Tom King | artist: Elsa Charretier | colorist: Matt Hollingsworth | letters: Clayton Cowles | publishing company: Everlasting Productions

synopsis: - Love Everlasting is an epic, mind-blowing tale of hope, death, and rebirth set in a world as frighteningly fantastical as any found beyond the stars or after the apocalypse: The Romance Comics of the 50s, 60s, and 70s. - In this blood rose-tinted reality, Joan Peterson slowly discovers that she is trapped in a seemingly endless cycle—a problem to be solved, a man to marry—and every time she makes it, falls in love, kisses him, she disappears into another teary saga. She needs to find her way out, find who she is, what this world is. To escape, she must deconstruct her stories and reconstruct her identity. - Romance comics sold millions of copies. They are a reflection of America’s ongoing obsession with finding the happy, nice, right utopia to which we all might conform. - This comic is an examination of the perversity of this obsession, of the damage done, the hearts broken, the lives lost in pursuit of the beautifully impossible: of love everlasting. This is not just a mystery to be solved; it is an ongoing adventure, an exploration of the need for love. As Watchmen did for superheroes and Sandman did for horror, Love Everlasting will use the tropes of romance to explore the heart of humanity.

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thenixkat

Extinction monsters:

- A ghost flock of Passenger Pigeons. Witnesses report feeling an all encompassing feeling of loss and isolation, getting lost in a massive forest that is just somewhat off but not being able to place why, of being stalked by something that looks like a man that clearly wishes to do them harm with a club

- A flaming animate T. rex skeleton. It’s screams sound like a tornado warning siren. Always first spotted staring into the sky. It sees and waits. And you will see too.

- Something wearing the skin of a thylacine that keeps showing up at the yearly dog show. The dogs that interact with it keep getting radiation burns/sickness before metamorphizing into something horrible.

- The Oil Slick That Eats Flesh. It sounds like dying birds.

- The futuristic looking car with no driver that stalks specifically early morning/late night joggers who have their lives together. It wants to mow them down but first it will make them fear. It’s radio can be heard well before its actually seen and it has a fondness for insurance jingles.

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In Donkey Kong Country, a DK Barrel will emit knocking sounds and ape noises if the playable character is alone, indicating that breaking it will free the other playable character. However, if both Donkey Kong and Diddy Kong are being controlled, the DK Barrel will not make any sound, signaling that it is empty.

A 1994 Donkey Kong Country manga makes a joke about this, with a DK Barrel making sounds even though both Donkey Kong and Diddy Kong are free. This causes them to become terrified of what could be inside the barrel.

Main Blog | Twitter | Source: DKC 4koma 2 (Japan), 1994, ISBN 4-334-80251-6

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tepkunset
What more is there to fear when you’ve already faced governments who have tried for centuries to wipe you out, who have used biological warfare and forced starvation to create apocalypse for your people?
It’s remarkable to consider that many non-Indigenous horror writers depict situations that Indigenous people have already weathered — such as apocalyptic viral outbreaks that decimate whole populations — or use the history of genocidal violence against us to explain why innocent white folks are being haunted today, such as in Stephen King’s It or the 1982 film Poltergeist. In fact, I’m not sure what scares non-Indigenous horror writers and readers more: experiencing variations of what Indigenous folks have already endured for centuries, or the reality that they have built their entire country on literal Indian burial grounds.
Indigenous writers, on the other hand, acknowledge the mundane horror of living in a country that dehumanizes you, weaving the reality of Indigenous life with fiction to scare audiences. In Waubgeshig Rice’s Moon of the Crusted Snow, for example, the apocalyptic event that ends life as we know it — taking out power, internet, phones, satellites, etc. — isn’t even really noticed as an apocalyptic event at first; it’s just another day on a northern rez, where power can go out at any time and internet and phone signals aren’t always available. As Nick, a young Anishinaabe man, points out, “We thought it was kinda funny…The blackout was only two days, but it seemed like some people were already freaking out a little bit. I was just like, ‘Come to the rez, this shit happens all the time!’” Once it becomes apparent that things have changed forever, the protagonist Evan observes that “the milestones he [now] used to mark time were the deaths in the community…as people perished through sickness, mishap, violence or by their own hands.” He notes that northern reserves like his are “familiar with tragedy,” the result of generations of intergenerational trauma and genocide — only now this tragedy is magnified.
Similarly, Jeff Barnaby’s new movie Blood Quantum takes the real-life horror of Indigenous history and plugs it into a zombie horror film. In Barnaby’s film, a zombie virus ravages a non-Indigenous community that borders a reserve; the only thing that saves the Indigenous community from the same fate is their apparent immunity to that virus. The community’s decision to take in non-Native survivors, who may turn into zombies and kill their people, is a fraught one for the film’s characters. Considering the devastation viruses carried by white settlers have historically wrought on Indigenous communities — the 1862 smallpox epidemic is estimated to have cut the First Nations population in what’s now known as British Columbia in half — it’s not hard to understand why.
In her bestselling book The Marrow Thieves, Cherie Dimaline used the real history of residential schools to create a terrifying post-apocalyptic world where Indigenous children are hunted and harvested for their bone marrow. Her latest novel, Empire of Wild, similarly uses the Métis tale of the Rogarou to tell a story of religion and resource extraction. The Rogarou was originally a story told to young Indigenous children, particularly girls, to keep them from the roads near the edge of their communities, where white men would pick them up and they’d end up missing or murdered. They scared their children in an attempt to keep them alive.
[CONTINUE READING]

An article I would recommend to both writers and fans of the horror genre

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“Writing horror is therapeutic in the same way that reading horror is therapeutic, it provides a harmless way to consider your darkest and bleakest thoughts, dragging those anxieties into the light, and, in doing so, at least partially disarming them.”

-A Message From Joseph Fink, creator of Alice Isn’t Dead and Welcome to Night Vale

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