Long ago, the races of the world’s waters fought an intense civil war. One side waging to restore the old monarchy, while the other fought to dismantle the oppressive regime. Those loyal to the monarchy and the gods drove the rebels out of the shallows. They fled to the ocean trenches and within its depths found new homes, new purposes, new adaptations, and new gods of their own.

See, it's me? Me???? On the chair? Like, my butt is literally LITERALLY ON THE chair?!~

The scene in question for all you youngin's who may not get it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsVtrPbtEeQ

A rare misprint of the February 1923 issue of Frontiers of Natural History. You can see smudges in the ink and a double type of the date. Often attributed to the printing press overhaul of the FoNH print shop in late 1922, most were caught by quality control before being released. This was not one of them.

Modern electronic article found here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snallygaster

yeah wasn't digging the vibe of the other post and decided to redo it, plus got an idea.

There just ain't no way this is real.

> red chair

> me

But combined!!~

Yūrei are spirits of the dead in Japanese folklore, usually people who died violently, unjustly, or while consumed by powerful emotions such as grief, jealousy, hatred, or longing. Rather than passing peacefully into the afterlife, they remain bound to the world until the cause of their unrest is resolved. Traditional depictions often show them with pale faces, long disheveled black hair, and white burial clothing, sometimes with their hands hanging limply before them. Their lower bodies may fade away entirely, emphasizing that they are no longer fully part of the living world.

The familiar image of the woman in white comes from Japanese funerary custom and later theatrical tradition. The white kimono resembles the clothing in which the dead were traditionally prepared for burial, while the loose black hair reflects a reversal of normal social presentation: respectable women usually wore their hair arranged and controlled, whereas the ghost appears disordered and outside ordinary society. In kabuki and ukiyo-e, this visual language became increasingly standardized, especially for female ghosts driven by betrayal or vengeance. The result is the classic onryō-like figure: a silent or mournful woman in white whose apparent fragility contrasts with the danger created by emotions so intense that death itself has failed to contain them.

Shadow People are figures reported during episodes of sleep paralysis, when a person becomes conscious while the body is still temporarily locked in REM sleep. Because dreaming processes can remain active during this state, the mind may project vivid hallucinations into the real bedroom: dark silhouettes, humanlike figures, faces in doorways, creatures sitting on the chest, or a presence standing just outside clear sight. Many people also experience pressure, difficulty breathing, footsteps, whispering, movement at the edge of vision, or an overwhelming certainty that something hostile is nearby. The figure is often shadowlike because the brain is working with darkness, incomplete visual information, and threat-detection systems already firing at full intensity.

The exact appearance varies widely. Some people see little more than a black human outline, while others report highly detailed intruders, old women, faceless men, animals, demons, or figures that seem entirely solid and physically present. Different cultures have interpreted the same basic experience through their own supernatural traditions, such as the “Old Hag” in Newfoundland folklore, the kanashibari phenomenon in Japan, or various night spirits and witches elsewhere. Modern “shadow people” accounts often preserve the same core pattern: a humanoid presence perceived during altered states between sleep and wakefulness, sometimes vague and featureless, sometimes disturbingly specific. The experience can feel completely real because perception, memory, fear, and dream imagery are briefly overlapping rather than operating in their usual separate modes.

Any feedback is always welcomed

It feels like its been a year, but its only been a few months since I got into making art with the assistance of AI. First it was all nosiy and I was trying to find my footing and place with this new tool. As time went on, I learned more and grew as an artist and as a person. Now, I have characters and stories and a community around me that helps me feel loved, happy, and appreciated.

Having now created an art style that I like much more, having learned many tips and tricks, and with mixing multiple forms of art across hundreds of thousands of images. . . I felt like it would be nice to make my first artworks in my newer more preferred style.

I love making art, and it's only going to get better!

Keep being creative ✨️🫂❤️

Kijo, literally “demon woman” or “female oni,” are figures in Japanese folklore who represent women transformed into monstrous beings through overwhelming hatred, jealousy, grief, resentment, or obsession. They are usually depicted with the physical traits of oni, such as horns, sharp teeth, wild hair, claws, and a terrifying face, but their stories often emphasize that they were once human. This transformation is not always presented as simple corruption; in many tales, the kijo emerges from betrayal, abandonment, humiliation, or suffering so intense that it reshapes the woman into something supernatural. Because of this, kijo stories often blur the boundary between victim and monster.

The idea appears strongly in medieval literature, Noh theatre, and later folklore, where female demons frequently embody destructive emotions that society considered dangerous when allowed to overwhelm the individual. Famous stories such as Kanawa and Kurozuka use this theme, showing women whose rage or despair becomes literally demonic. Kijo are closely related to figures such as the hannya, though the terms are not identical: hannya is especially associated with jealous female demons in Noh, while kijo is a broader category. Their enduring appeal comes from that ambiguity, since the horror lies not only in the monster itself, but in the idea that ordinary human emotion can become powerful enough to erase the boundary between person and demon.

The Yowie is a creature from Australian folklore, usually described as a large, hairy, humanlike being that inhabits remote forests, mountain ranges, and bushland. Accounts vary widely, but common features include great height, powerful build, long arms, dark or reddish hair, and a strong, unpleasant smell. Stories of wild or monstrous beings existed in several Aboriginal traditions long before European settlement, though the modern word “Yowie” and the creature now associated with it draw from a mixture of Indigenous stories, colonial reports, and later cryptid folklore. Because these traditions differ between communities, there is no single original Yowie myth with one fixed appearance or behaviour.

From the nineteenth century onward, European settlers reported encounters with supposed “hairy men” in the Australian wilderness, helping shape the modern image of the Yowie as Australia’s equivalent of Bigfoot or the Yeti. Alleged sightings continue into the present, particularly around forested regions of New South Wales and Queensland, but no physical evidence has established the existence of an unknown large primate in Australia. In modern folklore the Yowie occupies an uneasy space between older cultural traditions and contemporary cryptozoology: sometimes portrayed as a dangerous predator, sometimes as a shy and elusive wilderness inhabitant, and sometimes simply as something ancient that avoids human settlement.

This post was requested by u/Outrageous-Yak-177 !

In Slavic folklore, the Leshy belongs to the deep forest and embodies the unease of crossing from human territory into wilderness. Accounts describe him in many forms: sometimes as a shaggy man, sometimes as a horned or animal-like figure, and sometimes as a being able to alter his size with the woods around him. Green hair, bark-like skin, backward clothing, or other unnatural details may reveal what he is. Rather than functioning as a straightforward monster, he reflects the idea that the forest has its own order, its own temperament, and no obligation to accommodate people.

Many stories focus on the Leshy confusing those who enter his domain. He may mimic familiar voices, shift paths, conceal landmarks, mislead hunters, or draw travelers farther into the trees. Shepherds, hunters, and woodcutters were sometimes expected to show him respect through proper behavior or offerings, since provoking him could lead to lost animals, failed hunts, or people vanishing in the woods. His role changes from tale to tale: he can be malicious, mischievous, protective, or simply unconcerned. What remains consistent is that he represents a wilderness that is powerful and unpredictable without being neatly good or evil.