#Gorey

[nevver]

Goreyana

[kur8]

⸺ creepy/red/bloody pixels .

[kirgiakos]

Edward Gorey - "Man with a Bat on his Head" , 1940s

Pen and black ink and brush and black and gray wash on cream wove paper

[0ketinha]

tw// gore yummy cupcakes ey

[ghwosting]

(⁺ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)　˚　♡　🩸𖨂　

(⁺ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)　˚　♡　🩸𖨂　

[ichosetenderplaces]

III : We Are All Debts Owed to Death

Part 3 : Feel No Fear Before the Multitude of Men Requested By: @lissthatskiss Ares!Technoblade x HalfNymph!Reader

Recommended Listening: I'M GONNA WIN by Rob Cantor and Them Bones by Alice in Chains Words: 1.2k Taglist: @lissthatskiss @segnoblade @wingedghostpepper @local-maniacc

The sunlight filters through your small barred window. Your cot is oh so conveniently placed where the light lands right into your eyes. You can hear the arena hands waking everyone up for the day. With a grunt, you roll off your poor excuse for a bed into a standing position. You have waited three days for your final fight, it is not one you want to miss. You do not know how long you have been here for. All that you know is that, today, you will either live or die. One more tortuous day in this pit will be enough to throw yourself at the guards. 

An arena boy arrives before your cell door. He shakily unlocks and opens the door, gesturing for you to present your arms. With a chain, he links your arms together and begins to lead you down the hallway. The cells that line the walls are filled with pitiful sights of other fighters. No one is free here, but you’re about to be the closest you’ll ever get to it. You are under no delusion that you will. Yes, there is a chance, however little. But, for each final fight they bring in a real soldier. A soldier with real training, medical supplies, and food. You have none of these things. You are an enslaved fighter - seen as no better than an animal. There have been times where you have been put against animals with nothing but a short dagger. After killing all the animals they had thrown at you, they learned you are better suited for fights against other slaves of your caliber. 

You are led through the hallway out into a bigger space. The ongoing fight just outside in the arena seems to be drawing out. The boy leads you to your waiting area. You take on the floor against the wall just as your owners arrive before you. After they bought you in the slave auction and placed you here, you have refused to say a word to them. They used to whip you for your disrespect - they eventually learned there was no point. 

“The next fight is yours. We will miss the money you have brought us throughout your time. There was truly no better place than here for you.” They too do not think that you will win. There was only one man to have won against his final opponent, and he succumbed to his wounds soon after. You still remember the golden blonde hair on the man as he doubled over and fell into the hot sand. 

The fight in the arena has stopped. You peer through one of the small windows and see the victor is badly wounded. You know he will not make it, you have inflicted the very wound that will kill him many times. It is a killing blow and he shall soon fall, just as you will. 

The air is hot as you step out onto the sand. You have been armed with a shortsword and a large shield. Shields are not your specialty, you are much more suited to having a shortsword in each hand. But, there is nothing you can do about it now. They have refused you food and only given you small amounts of water to keep you weak. They have done everything they can to ensure you cannot buy your freedom. But, in death, you could have your freedom regardless. 

Your steps towards the middle of the arena are mirrored by your opponent. He is a tall warrior, easily towering over your form. The feeling of being watched that has followed you throughout the past four days has become almost piercing. You cannot tell where it is coming from, and will not let it distract you from the fight of your life. 

The horn blares, and he is upon you. He swings his sword down almost too quickly for you to dodge. The lack of food and water is taking its toll as you dodge and roll out of the way of his sword. The warrior doesn’t even have a shield on him, just his great claymore. As you struggle to stand, the feeling of someone watching is suddenly increased to an unbearable degree. The eyes of what feels like thousands of - not people - something are locked on your form. It is not the audience that you are sure of. Their eyes are not this hungry, not ever this interested. 

Suddenly, your ears are filled with what feels like screams of gibberish. You clench your eyes from the sharp sting the screams cause. But, the second your eyes close, it almost feels like lifting your sword is that much easier. You feel better than you have in ages. More present, more there. You do not feel the heat of the hot sand. Not from the sun. Not from the dozens of cuts lining your form. 

You feel the blade coming down before it even hits you. A quick parry, and you are upon him. You do not know what is happening. All you know is that the warriors blood would make a fine addition to the dozens you have already spilled on this sand. You feel like you could keep fighting for ages, something that the warrior you are fighting cannot mirror. The fight has gone on for much longer than anyone had thought it would.You are beating the man they have sent to end your reign of terror, and they do not like it. 

You hear the arena boys running around and yelling. But for what, you don’t know. Your eyes are locked on the bloody man in front of you. And when you easily block and counter attack him, you swear you feel a sense of pride coming from the voices in your ears. You cut him down, and the voices cheer with you. The audience, however, is almost dead silent. You stand before your owners with a sick smile upon your face.

They start talking, but you cannot hear them over the buzz in your ears. They throw down the money at your feet. You do not look at it, merely still looking at them. You could buy yourself out, you could be free from them. But what fun is that? If you leave peacefully, they will simply find another way to drag you back. No, that money is better spent elsewhere. They watch on in horror as you slaughter the guards at the gate. There are men rushing you, but they are mere ants in the power that has overtaken you. It is madness, you should be scared for your life, for your sanity, but all you can feel is a sense of awe-inducing surprise at the fact that you’re having fun. You are having fun gutting the people that have kept you enslaved for years. You are starting to crave the blood that seeps out of their pathetic bodies, and so, you cut down more. 

By the time you are done, the arena is a mess. You are surrounded by bodies that are barely recognizable. All, with a smile on your face and a fire in your veins. Slowly, you make your way out of the arena. The power that has pushed you forward is retreating, as are the voices that have given you company. You feel oddly sated but empty with the retreating power. 

There are horses tied up outside. You choose one with chestnut brown hair and set off. Freedom will suit you well.

[oddheadd]

Frostbite °• : ⁠｡ - Chapter II

Wendigo/Skinwalker x Reader

CW: Gore, animal deaths. The religion is made up and in no way do I intent to offend anyone, please don't read if such subjects trigger you.

I stare at my laptop screen, wanting to bang my head against the wall as I observe the blank page.

Yesterday I actually managed to fall asleep. The tapping didn't continue, but that's probably more disturbing. I would've brushed it off as the quirk of the cabin, but it was so random.

I sigh and close the laptop, lazily lifting myself off the couch and deciding to make myself another cup of coffee. I go outside and sit on the porch, drinking the steaming, bitter liquid. I watch the forest and I feel it drawing me in.

I keep watching the hypnotizing sway of the trees with the gentle wind, before I bring the now empty cup into the house and head out again, walking straight into the forest.

I wonder if it's still there.

As a child, I'd always wander into the forest, making mud pies, finding big sticks and hopefully searching for the animals. In my child, naive mind I thought I'd hop on their backs and they'd take me away into the wonderland.

Then I saw it... Not a cute, big eyed, furry animal, but the monstrously enormous monastery. What once used to be a praying space was then broken down and abandoned. And despite my fear, I went in.

The walls were painted with blood, carcasses of small animals hung loosely from the ceiling... In the very edge of the room, what I assume a recently killed deer was hung on the wall, its body was cut from it's neck to it's stomach, as if showing off it's insides.

I ran home crying and mom never brought me here after that. I assume it was something ritualistic. I shouldn't have wondered into the 17-19th century broken down catholic church anyways.

I sigh and kick around in the snow.

Looking down I see something. I furrow my brows and lean down, looking at what I assume is a deer footprint.

Then I hear shuffling behind me. I immediately turn around and-

"Oh, hi..." - A man waves at me awkwardly. He has dark hair with a matching pair of almond shaped eyes. Lashes, longer than my own rest on his eyelids under his thick brows. His hair is a little overgrown and he has a bit of stubble. He's wearing warm clothes and there's a hunting rifle in his left hand.

"Ah- You scared me." - I chuckle sheepishly.

"Sorry." - He smiles. - "What are you doing here?"

"...Taking a walk, I guess?"

"All alone? These woods are dangerous." - He furrows his brows a little.

"Really? I used to play in here all the time when I was a child..."

"You live here?" - He tilts his head and rests the rifle on the snowy ground.

"Not really, me and my family used to come here in summer. Now I'm here to uh, work, I guess?"

He smiles again. - "I just moved a few months ago."

I eye his rifle. - "You like hunting?"

"I hunt for food." - He corrects me. He then gives me his free hand to shake, and I do so. - "...Nathan."

"Y/N. You said the forest is dangerous? I've only seen deer so far..."

"Wolves." - He answers Shortly. - "But yes, there are lots of deer in here. Check this out," - He comes closer and leans down, pointing at the footprints I was observing before. - "I've never seen a footprint of a deer that big. If I manage to catch it, I won't have to hunt for a few weeks, maybe even a month. I swear to God I've been trying to hunt it down for days." - He sighs.

"Oh wow." - I tilt my head. - "Hunting seems intense."

"It's not as hard if you know the basics. Just long... And I'm impatient." - He chuckles. - "I could show you."

He looks at me with a smile and I find it hard to decline his offer. I smile back and nod.

We walk for a while, getting to know each other. He then lays down behind a fallen log and motions for me to do the same. We wait for a while and then two deer walk into our view. Nathan looks at me and brings his finger to his lips to hush me.

It all happens fast, there's a bang and the deer falls as the other runs away. Nathan gets up and approaches it. "You gotta be humane when you kill them, try aiming where it would have vital organs so it dies fast."

I hesitantly follow him. I look at the deers hooves and only then do I realize the huge difference between these and the footprints I saw earlier. The footprints were three, if not four times bigger.

I start to get bad vibes from this. - "...Have you seen big deer before?"

Nathan looks at me with a puzzled expression. - "Huh?"

"You said the footprints we saw earlier were big." - I say and sit on the nearby rock. - "You see them often?"

"...Not really."

"That's... Disturbing." - I sneer.

Nathan grins. - "Why, you worried for me?"

I snort. - "No, I'm worried for myself. I live on the edge of the forest." - I joke and he chuckles.

"It's totally a deer, I'm sure nothing to worry about." - He shrugs and starts tying the rope around the dead animal. - "If you're too worried, though..."

He stands up straight and approaches me, placing his hands on the rock, trapping me in-between. - "I could give you my number."

I chuckle and he backs up. - "The service is shitty but we can text. I don't like calls anyways."

"Okay." - I grin and he smiles. I write my number in my notepad, tearing the paper out and giving it to him after.

"You should go now, it's getting dark. Want me to walk you?"

I shrug. - "Nope. Just lead me towards the main path and I'll return myself." - I instruct him.

The walk home isn't too long, and I find myself attracted to the man as he waves at me. I walk into the cabin and sigh, happy to be embraced by warmth.

Then the deer footprints float up into my mind and I feel uneasy. How can Nathan be so calm? The deer is probably humongous, why? Is it a type of anomaly?

My worries wash away as my phone buzzes and I see a text from an unknown number.

"So you live on the edge of the forest? If you see a seven foot deer, text me asap ;P"

[matthewlopz]

Biblomania Alice

Fanart for the Bibliomania manga, go give it a read!

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[dirtymaidpanties]

I FINALLY DREW MY FAVORITE MAID GIRLS AGAIN OMG!!!! i wanted to draw something more gorey and nasty + draw them soooo i did..

I really liked how i shaded this one especially iyas face, i heart toxic yaoi/yuri guys shi is fire

[godlikeimmortal]

India - Two days after a man's decapitated body was discovered, police arrested a 21 year old suspect named Kadam.

Kadam and his supervisor (and murder victim) Sadgir, hadn't known eachother for long and met through acquaintances.

The suspect had gotten a job as a security guard, working under Sadgir. Police say that Kadam was often reprimanded and berated at work by Sadgir for his "attitude and work ethic issues"

Allegedly, Kadam killed his supervisor, Sadgir, due to the verbal harassment he'd been on the receiving end of, for months. Kadam snapped when his supervisor started insulting and using abusive language towards Kadam's mother & sister.

[nevver]

This Night Creature does not have good intentions, Edward Gorey

[blodigrodion]

[postcard-from-the-past]

Gorey, Jersey, Channel Islands, UK

British vintage postcard

[fearsmagazine]

Filmmaker RYAN KRUGER discusses his latest feature film, STREET TRASH, based on the 1987 independent film.

In Ryan Kruger’s sequel to the 1987 film STREET TRASH, written by Roy Frumkes and Jim Muro, the year is 2050, Cape Town South Africa, now a dystopian world, ravaged by economic collapse and a vanished middle class. It’s a stark contrast of extreme wealth and desperate poverty. Ronald, a member of a displaced, houseless community, uncovers a chilling government conspiracy. The plan, codenamed "V," involves using an evil chemical agent to eradicate the city's houseless population. Facing overwhelming odds, Ronald and his friends must risk everything to expose this horrifying plot and confront a society that seeks to erase them. Their fight becomes a symbol of resistance against the oppressive forces of government and the ultra-rich.

Director/Co-Writer Ryan Kruger behind the scenes of the horror film STREET TRASH, a Cineverse release. Photo courtesy of Cineverse.

Filmmaker Ryan Kruger is a multi-award-winning Director, in addition to his work as a writer, producer and actor. Having begun his career at an early age by making home movies with friends, he studied acting at the prestigious Guildhall School of Music and Drama. When he wasn’t acting he was directing music videos for numerous bands such as Juliet Lewis and the licks, Black Flag, misfits, Bowling for Soup, Slipknot and many more. In 2004 he began shooting music videos in South Africa in 2008 moved there. During his stay in Cape Town he studied at the AFDA film school for 2 years and continued acting, including landing a part in director Neil Marshall’s “Doomsday.” He turned his first 3min experimental film "Fried Barry," which screened around the world with over 59 official selections and over 12 wins, into his 2020 feature film debut, of the same title.

FEARS Magazine's Joseph B Mauceri spoke with Ryan Kruger the day before the film’s release on digital platforms. Please be aware that this episode does contain frank and adult language.

The music pieces heard in the background of this episode is music by composer Ebenhaezer Smal, who scored STREET TRASH.

Read our review of STREET TRASH - HERE

[ghwosting]

edgy/gorey pixels pls 🙏🙏

(⁺ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)　˚　♡　🩸𖨂　

(⁺ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)　˚　♡　🩸𖨂　

[mxihi]

more fucked up splat