#morbid magazine

[deadcryptiid]

Interview with Euronymous for Morbid Magazine 1987

You had planned a tour in Italy, what will happen now that Manheim is gone?

Euro: We'll just use Torben. But the tour will be in December instead of August as first planned. This is for several reasons.

Does Maniac use distortion on his vocals or is his voice natural?

Euro: Maniac's voice is actually natural! When I first heard him I was sure that he used distortion, but he don't. You can hear that on the demo/record, because he and Messiah use the same mike together! But I think he uses some ki nd of space effect.

How do you manage to play so fast?

Euro: Well, you know that the more practice you get the faster it goes, and we've played for three years, now. But we don't play fast compared to bands like Napalm Death! They're fast!

Has your demo sold well?

Euro: We've sold some, but most people prefer to wait for the record, I think. We've sold a couple of hundred records, even before it's out!

Are any record labels interested to make a deal with you?

Euro: I don't know.We haven't tried to get a deal yet. We recently got a letter from some label called Thunder Records. They wanted a demo so I sent them one. But except from that we haven't sent out any demo to record companies at all.A lot of people have told us that we'd get a deal easily, but we hate record companies. If we'd sign a deal, we'd loose all control. Now we do everything ourself, distribution, promotions and stuff, on our own label called "Posercorpse Music, Inc. "If we sign a deal, we might get much better distribution and more money, but still we prefer to do things ourself. I mean, which rec. company would print our lyrics? However, if we one day do sign a deal, I doubt that it will be more than a one or two record deal.

Were do people that buy your demo come from?

Euro: From all of the world.We've even got a lot of letters from strange places like Japan, Australia, Poland, Chile and Peru!

What do you think of the Norwegian thrash scene?

Euro: It sucks, but I think it starts to build up now. More and more people seem to become active in the scene which I think is good. One thing which also is good is that punks and thrashers now start uniting. But I think that more girls should get into the scene! I know about just 5-6 of them here in this country. However, the Norwegian scene has alot of suckers!It is people who just walk around, thinking "I listen to Slayer, I'm hard!" and we also have those who make crooked use on bands and others, I'm not going to mention any names, but this is Bad!

Do you feel that many people buy your demo after they have read a Fanzine with you in it?

Euro: Yeah, I think that's the way most people get to know about us. We've also been played on lots of local radios everywhere, but it's deffinetly the fanzines who make most of the promotion.

What music do you listen to?

Euro: Personally I listen a lot to electronic syntheziser music like Klaus Schule, Tangerine Dream, Conrad Schnitzler and Brian Eno. I also listen to lots of thrash and some hardcore. But, NO disco shit, pop music or HM.

What do you think about Vomit and the music they play?

Euro: They rule! Their new stuff is so great! To be honest, I think they're better than us! They're really great guys. When Manheim left us they lent us Torben and they let us come to practice at their rehearsalplace every weekend. That's a cool attitude. Support them! They will have a new demo out this autumn.

You visited Kreator some time ago, how did they react when they first heard you?

Euro: The German thrashers are psychos! At that time we had only released "P.F.A" demo, and a lot of them loved it! Then you have to be sick!

You've got some help from Metalion of Slayer Mag. what do you think of him and the Fanzine?

Euro: Metalion is a fucking great guy and our best friend. If it haden't been for him....... The Deathcrush record is dedicated to him, and he truly deserves it! His 'zine is one of the best ive seen and also definitely the sickest.

[anewp0tat0]

I am so passed April fools cause life hard and busy but I hope we're still in a silly mood ;;v;;

(very belated) April Black Butler Animo Black Arts Magazine- Ciel Dies.

I really needed to participate in this months mag for 2 reasons, 1) because I missed doing last months mag even though the prompt that I had pitched since day 1 of me joining (wild west) was finally selected... and I didn't even get to participate. so I'm bummed. and 2) because I actually also am mostly responsible for conceiving this prompt and I am proud of myself(as well as everyone else who participated hahaaa) for having an idea. so yes.

I also got to do the cover this time.

[musicmags]

[bilrost]

[mayamistake]

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Chuck Schuldiner (DEATH), Richard Brunelle (MORBID ANGEL) and Allen West (OBITUARY) back in the early 90's. This was taken for a Death Metal feature in "Guitar World Magazine" from 1992...

[morbidloren]

The Morbid Curiosity zine

July is International Zine Month, which I think is cool. Back before the internet was much of a thing, in the days before Google…jeez, before LiveJournal and Myspace, I made a zine called Morbid Curiosity. I published the first issue in 1997. I can’t believe it’s been 26 years. Morbid Curiosity collected true confessional stories from authors around the world. Some of them were professionals.…

[infiniterichesinalittleroom]

There's no such thing as safety. It can happen to anyone at any time. There's no such thing as security. And although we try to instill in ourselves a sense that we should try to make the most of every day, of course we don't. and you may go to the funeral of a friend, and you may think the deepest and the darkest and the most profound thoughts, but the next day, you're worrying about the most pathetic and petty things.

MORRISSEY

[kaseyhillauthor]

C@nnib^1ism is something that remains taboo to this day and classifies serial ki11er$ as another level of evil we aren't ready to deal with, and Karl Denke is one of them. Come read this article by Paula Phillips! Gothic Bite Magazine LINK: https://gothicbitemagazine.ca/2022/10/20/the-story-of-the-19th-century-forgotten-cannibal/ #GothicBiteMagazine #gbm #gothic #goth #bite #magazine #cannibal #serialkillers #morbid #tedbundy #richardramirez #edgein #karldenke #research #historyfacts https://www.instagram.com/p/Cj_Cnx9OMkI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[robsheridan]

[Update: Apocalypse in Pink part 2 is out now]

Before Barbenheimer, there was “Apocalypse in Pink,” the August 1983 theme of fashion/culture magazine SPECTAGORIA. The issue’s controversial imagery of Barbie-esque models attempting to stay gorgeous and glamorous amidst nuclear annihilation sought to, in the words of editor/photographer Sera Clairmont, “revel in the morbid absurdity of the new American condition,” an “anxiety vibrating underneath all our plastic smiles.”

“It’s The Hot Pink Cold War,” Clairmont wrote in her introduction. “It’s ‘Material Girl’ on the radio and ‘WarGames’ at the drive-in. It’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ interrupted by the emergency broadcast signal. We’re told to look sexy, dress fashionable, make money, and spend money, but be sure we’re just the right amount of terrified about the bomb. Get that Malibu dream home, keep working on that perfect body, sip cocktails by the pool in your little pink bikini and watching the stocks go up — but STAY VIGILANT! and for God’s sake vote Republican, because that dream home could melt into a pink plastic inferno at any given moment. Just don’t stop smiling as the blast liquefies your skin into bubbling ooze like a Barbie doll in a microwave - it’s bad for the economy.”

***Continued in PART 2***

---------

NOTE: This is a work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

[yarnsofyore]

Samhain Magazine | Dec 1986 | Ireland

[musicmags]

[moyazaika]

omg doe brought up this AMAZINGGG idea abt the crime lord yan and his lawyer darling hello hey hi!!!!!!

this kinda got away from me because it is 3am but i nEEEEEDED to get this out bjsjsjjs i blame @carnivorousyandeere

i know i wrote the initial dynamic for his darling to be his lawyer, in that they’re on his side in court to keep him from getting sent to prison BUT BUT BUT hear me out T_T

lawyer darling who put yan kingpin away.

as in ,, you are the reason he was found guilty. you are the one, when the judge announced the final verdict, that his gaze turned to and that he smiled for, then. sentenced to death, before it was appealed to multiple life sentences; the beginning of the end of his empire.

you, you, you — the cause of his downfall.

after the infamous internationally documented case, your career soars to unprecedented heights. you’re the lawyer on every newspaper in every country, all the tv channels and glossy magazines. every law school wants you to speak at their graduation ceremonies. every firm’s reaching out to you. the whole world knows your name; you have everything!

—so why do you keep going back to the man who now has nothing?

the kingpin looks the same as he did that fateful day in court. only now, there’s bags under his eyes, and a five o clock shadow on his jaw; lips still curled in an easygoing smile. he laughs when he sees you, as if the two of you were merely old friends who hadn’t caught up in a while.

as if you’re not visiting him years later in the city’s most high security prison.

he grins. “come to gloat, have ‘ya?”

“you’ve committed countless crimes.” you state. “stolen lives and livelihoods. broken up families. killed good men. and still, all these years later, no remorse?”

“don’t get ‘yer panties in a twist,” he huffs, lazily leans back in the rickety prison chair so that he’s swinging it back and forth on its back legs, like a child. how absurd that even the garish orange uniform of a prison should suit him, “comes with the job description, don’t it?”

“i think about you,” you admit, eyeing the chains that bind his handcuffed hands to the desk in front of him. you look up, meet his gaze through the thick, dirty pane that separates you from him. keeps you safe. out of his reach, if only just.

a low whistle. “you sure know how to make a man feel special, y’know. been followin’ your cases. never put another one like me away, did ‘ya?” he grins. “i like that i’m special. makes me feel all warm ‘nd fuzzy inside.”

“wow,” you let out. “you really have gone insane.”

“always been a ‘lil crazy! like i said, part of the job description. though i’ve been thinkin’ recently,” he starts.

your fascination prompts you to lean closer. a sort of morbid curiosity that yearns to solve the puzzle of his twisted mind, slot the pieces you’ve already got in a way that makes them fit. you’ve got this weird feeling that you’re missing something. a big piece, maybe. one of the central ones.

“thinking about what?” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost conspiratorial. he leans in, too, all wide eyes—

—and then he jerks forward with the chains around the cuffs on his wrists pulled taut as he suddenly yanks them all the way, like a feral dog pulling on its leash. he looks like one, too, with that glint in his eyes.

“fuck!”

you barely even register that you’re on the floor until he laughs, low in his throat. he makes a vague gesture to your chair, toppled over on its side.

“oops.” he says, coyly. “didn’t mean to scare ‘ya.”

“liar,” you hiss, standing up to dust yourself off. this was stupid. why would you even entertain the idea of a civil conversation with a madman?

he gasps dramatically. “this is slander, your honour!”

“i’m leaving,” you scoff. “i don’t even know why i even came down here. you’re clearly fucking crazy.”

“and you’re no fun!” he pouts. “how ‘bout you stay just a little longer and i’ll make it worth ‘yer time, pretty please?”

“no can do,” you turn on your heels and reach for the door, fingers curled around the handle as you spare him one final glance over your shoulder— “have fun rotting in here for the rest of your life, psycho.”

—except the door won’t open. you try again, and again once more. the handle won’t budge. an awful sense of urgency overcomes you as you desperately shake the handle in a futile attempt to get it to just—

“funny ‘yer calling me crazy, ‘cus einstein once said real insanity is doin’ the same thing,” he beams. “over and over and over and over again, and expecting different results. door’s locked, lovely. ‘yer not getting out from there, ‘m afraid.”

you turn back then, still holding onto that door like a lifeline. he’s standing up, rubbing sore wrists that are, you realise with a sinking feeling, no longer bound by the handcuffs that kept him chained; on a short leash, like a good dog.

“what are you doing…?” your voice shakes, and it’s a far cry to the headstrong, unwavering lawyer who put the world’s most notorious criminal behind bars. “what the fuck—”

“i told you i’d make it worth your while t’stay,” he rolls up his sleeves, before pushing all of his hair (longer and greasier than the last you saw him) out of his face, features set in a determination you’ve never glimpsed before. familiar eyes twinkle with mischief. “and i meant it, y’know. the world’s very best lawyer came so far to see me! least i can do is greet ‘em properly.”

“‘cus see, the other prisoners wouldn’t be so nice. but i’ve been thinkin’ about you too.” he pulls his arm back and his fist comes flying at the pane. “don’t wanna have a conversation or nothin’ like that, nah, we talked enough.”

“you’ve been thinking about me, i’ve been waiting around for you…” bloody knuckles against cracks in the one barrier that is keeping you safe from him. you watch, helpless, as it threatens to break beneath the brute force of his trained fists.

“now let me just come over there,” he pulls his arm back again, ready to strike; knuckles raw and red, like the maniacal grin carved onto his pretty, flushed face. a deep blush and a shaky smile as those fists bring it all crashing down. “and show you how much i missed my faaavourite lawyer in the whole wide world.”

“—that be a good enough reason to stick around?” he asks slyly, before catching himself. “oh, silly me.” he shakes his head, apologetically, as he steps over broken shards on the floor, tainted with his blood. “doesn’t matter what ‘ya say.” a low hum when scarred hands reach out for you. “i waited so long for you…”

“… so, let’s make up reaaalllll good for all that lost time, okay?”

[depravitycentral]

I've only watched the first season of jjk and frankly I despise Mahito, but god the yandere potential is just too damn good to ignore.

He's provocative, doing anything and everything he can to get a rise out of you.

Though honestly, creepy would be a more accurate description. Even for a curse, Mahito shows a remarkable disregard for the desires of others. He’s a selfish, morbid creature, and although there’s something dark, twisted, and sick blooming in his chest for you, this doesn’t change the core traits of his personality. It doesn’t change what he is, what he’s capable of, what he enjoys doing – and unfortunately for you, his infatuation with you means that every ounce of his time, attention, and curiosity is channeled directly at you.

And even from the beginnings of your unwilling ‘relationship’ with him, this will be uncomfortably obvious.

Catching his attention is a difficult, nebulous thing, but once you’ve managed to snag it, you’ll never shake it off. Very early on he’s attached to your hip, following you around and always, always blabbering on and on about this and that, asking you all sorts of questions that leave you simultaneously disgusted and exasperated.

(Questions like hey, if you had to eat another human, where would you start? Questions like when you menstruate, can you feel it coming out of you? Describe it to me – and show it to me too, okay? I can smell that you’re currently in that phase, what do you mean you won’t take your pants off right now? Why does it matter that we’re in a grocery store? Maybe they'd like to watch too.)

He’s irritating and strange, and you’ll know that there’s something seriously wrong with him without ever even needing to see him using his cursed energy.

And as he grows more attached and invests more time and curiosity in you, a rather disturbing situation begins unfolding – you absolutely did not invite Mahito to live with you, but he doesn’t seem to understand that you don’t want him in your apartment every moment of the day.

When you wake up in the mornings, he’s standing over your bed, face so close to yours that he can feel your breaths against his cold lips, his own stretching wider than humanly possible to morph into a grin that immediately has you awake and alert.

He’ll follow you around your modest apartment as you get ready for work, those mismatched eyes of his glued to your figure watching as you get dressed, your movements hurried and uncomfortable because why the fuck is he looking at you like that?

And he’s not quiet about it either – he’s commenting the whole time, talking about how he’s read that the discharge stains visible on your underwear are a sign that you have good vaginal health.

He’s telling you that you really should tighten up the straps on your bra – all the Playboy magazines and borderline pornos he’s seen in theaters always have the women wearing very perky bras, and shouldn’t you be insecure about that like most human women?

(He’s quick to point out that yours aren’t perky, but rather some other description, something much less flattering and much more damaging.)

He’ll watch as you brush your teeth, tilting his head like some sort of animal as those mismatched eyes take in your every movement, a smile slowly forming on his lips that makes something heavy and sick sit in the base of your stomach.

Immediately after you’re done, practically before you’ve finished spitting out the toothpaste, he’s immediately snatching the brush and settling it against his own tongue, twirling around the bristles against his teeth and tongue as he hums. He’s narrating the taste to you, telling you that it’s minty but also a bit sweet and earthy, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks at the bristles and giggles. He’ll follow you around with that damn toothbrush in his mouth, staying glued to your heel like some oversized, murderous puppy.

He’s touching your breakfast as you cook it, a finger reaching in to burst the yolk of your fried egg, a thumb and pointer finger reaching into the toaster to squish and pinch at a section of your toast so that it’s cracked and crumbly and has the imprint of his fingerprints against it.

He’s slipping in through the bottom crack of the door as you use the toilet, peeking up at you and smiling too widely, asking you if it feels good when you urinate? I’ve heard that some women think it feels good to hold it in. Next time you have to go, get me first. I want to see how long you can hold it for.

And as time passes, it only becomes worse – he gets more invasive, more pushy, wanting to insert himself into every possible aspect of your life because you’re just so fascinating and the way you respond to him is just so delicious. He’s still forcing you to share intimate supplies like toothbrushes and underwear.

(Though he never returns the underwear clean after stealing them for a few days. There’s always a multitude of mysterious stains in colors you don’t understand – you can handle the very obvious cum stains, albeit begrudgingly and with bile rising up your throat, but what the hell had he been doing that resulted in bright orange stains?)

He’s still asking you all sorts of questions about extremely personal topics, blinking at you with all the innocent curiosity in the world, making you feel like the crazy one for being uncomfortable when asked how many fingers you’ve ever managed to stuff inside yourself and oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask – have you ever tried fisting? I bet I could put a finger inside you and then just expand it bigger and bigger until it’s the size of my fist or maybe even more. That sounds fun! Let’s do that. Right now.

He’ll be standing next to you as you brush your hair or brush over it, watching intently and prying the brush out of your hands, pulling at the caught strands and plopping them into his mouth, swishing the hairs around before audibly swallowing them, licking his lips and running off to the shower to find any stray hairs against the tiled walls.

(He won’t verbally explain this particular habit to you, but it stems from a strange, possessive desire to have a piece of you inside of him, the concept of having your DNA within his body making him strangely giddy. He refuses to touch or alter your soul simply because he doesn’t want to change anything about you, and this feels the closest he can get in place of it. The closest he can get to you.)

He’ll open up your makeup bag and drawer, digging with grubby fingers and opening each and every product, smearing a bit across his wrist and returning it back uncapped, occasionally grabbing sticks of lipstick and letting his tongue run across the pigmented product, teeth sinking down as he takes a bite, face twisting up a bit because yuck, it tastes like chemicals!

He’ll grab your makeup brushes and run them along the areas of his body that he’s read are the main production points of pheromones, some raunchy article he’d read claiming that women are highly affected by them and are subconsciously attracted to them.

(The brush gets rubbed across his underarms and navel, a few silver, curly hairs getting stuck in the brush bristles that he figures only imbues more of his natural scent into the tool.)

And Mahito isn’t at all shy about doing any of these things in front of you – in fact, he actively encourages you to look, telling you that it’s good to be honest with each other, that it’s sweet how interested you are in what he’s doing, even if that interest manifests as you angrily yelling at him and begging him to stop being such a freak.

Really, Mahito consciously learns about human societal standards and perceptions of privacy and actively breaks them when it comes to you. He likes to see how far he can push you, just how much you can take before you start crumbling.

He wants to understand what makes you tick, how you function, what your biggest fears are, the order you eat your food, the way you breath, how you sniffle and hiccup when you're crying.

He's a freak in every sense of the word, and once he's grown any sort of attachment to you, he's like a parasite that you just can't get rid of. He'll feed off of you, growing greedier and greedier, but still somehow managing to find some new way to humiliate you, some new way to get you angry enough to scream and lash out at him but terrified enough to stop yourself.

And oh, seeing that look on your face when you're angry enough you could cry makes him feel so, so very good, all the blood rushing south and making him tell you in that sing-songy, too-chipper voice of his to give me your panties you're wearing right now, but stay here. It's better when you watch.

He's the worst, in every sense of the word.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

ℭ𝔥𝔲𝔠𝔨 𝔖𝔠𝔥𝔲𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔯 (𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥), 𝔄𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔫 𝔚𝔢𝔰𝔱 (𝔒𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶) 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℜ𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔅𝔯𝔲𝔫𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔢 (𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔟𝔦𝔡 𝔄𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩) 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔶 գօ’𝔰…

(𝔭𝔦𝔠 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔊𝔲𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔯 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔐𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔷𝔦𝔫𝔢 - յգգշ)