lucency: (❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴠɪɴᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅʏ.)
𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕙 ([personal profile] lucency) wrote in [community profile] bootlegexcalibur2023-04-07 01:36 pm
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❝ there's no room in this hell; there's no room in the next ❞




psychedelic horror open post

Inspired by films such as Hausu and Suspiria, “psychedelic horror” refers to an intense sense of disconnection from reality along with gothic elements of fear and haunting.

the scene;
You find yourself isolated from town in a dilapidated mansion. It’s spooky. Prompts are below. Take it from there. Put some prefs in your top level! Post multiple starters! Post a blank one and take what lands with you! We're up all night to get spooky.

the prompts;
The Getaway: You came here to take in the idyllic scenery of the countryside, to honor your family’s ancient estate, or to find some shelter from the rain (although, what, exactly, has you traveling through the middle of nowhere in such weather?). Maybe you’re even just dedicated to exploring abandoned places, but the mansion’s glory days have clearly passed. Have fun — or something like it — exploring, but keep in mind that it’s not exactly normal for blood to seep from the walls at sundown, nor for your doorknobs to rattle like bones.

The Ritual: The moon is dark, the woods are deathly silent, but the estate bustles with activity. A freshly-cooked meal fills the halls with smells and the dining room tables with dishes beyond imagination. The centerpiece, however, is a massive goblet, passed around to all in attendance. Do you eat, drink, and make merry? It would be rude to decline, of course, on such an auspicious evening. One thing nobody mentions, though, are the hallucinogens steeped in the wine. Bon voyage!

The Seance: Do you believe in ghosts? Whether it’s the isolation or collective nerves of the others present within the manor, there’s an undeniable presence seeping through the very structure itself. The storm outside whips up the screaming wind, making the doors and shutters rattle in agreement. The house can’t speak verbally, but perhaps a conduit can. There’s a cabinet full of candles and matches, and maybe if we all just hold hands…

Dream Curse: If you’re expecting a reprieve through sweet sleep, you’re unfortunately mistaken. Have you upset the ghosts? Or maybe you drank too much of the wine during the festivities. The pages etched with strange symbols you found in the estate’s library could be a culprit, but regardless of the reason, your dreams are haunted with the same terrors that creep through your waking world. The subconscious, though, sees and interacts differently through sleep. Who do you meet, and what secrets come to light? Most importantly, do you remember them in the morning?

Wildcard! Feel free to use all or none of the above. If you’ve got another idea that vibes with the setting, go wild. No rules (just keep in mind, the walls do talk).
graverobbings: (pic#)

he will (not)

[personal profile] graverobbings 2023-04-10 06:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Wait, what?

[ Willie takes the card, bafflement etched all over his face, but he (luckily) doesn't read it. Instead, he flips it over, flips it back, tucks it into the pocket of his jeans. It's just his luck — he finally gets a vacation, but the surprise visits don't, and what the hell kind of business does a reporter have here anyway?

Willie looks up, squinting at the new visitor. They aren't even near Illinois. Sharp as a tack, this one.
]

What're you lookin' for Mr. Barnabas for? No, he don't live here. He's up at the Old House.

[ Willie extends an arm and gestures vaguely behind him and — shit. The last thing Barnabas needs is anybody snooping around, although, honestly, it seems to happen at least weekly, at this point, and nobody's any wiser to anything. Even with a blabbermouth (Willie? Debatable.) living in such close quarters. It's almost impressive.

Besides, that's not the point right now. The point is the body buried in the yard, and sure, it probably isn't going anywhere (although Willie also has some concerns about that), but it probably wouldn't be great press for an out-of-town reporter to catch wind of. Nor would be Barnabas' situation.

He's nervous. His feet shift, he scratches the back of his neck.
]

I could probably take a message, if you want.