#so much for the gore part!!!!

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Stanley wasn't sure if he was supposed to be dead. He wasn't all too sure if he was supposed to be alive, either.

He was... somewhere. He didn't know where exactly, but it didn't matter. Nothing really seemed to matter all that much in this strange place. Compared to the unfathomable expanse of nothingness that surrounded him, everything else practically paled in comparison. Still, Stanley felt as though this all-consuming abyss that kept him prisoner within its dark maw deserved a name; at the very least, a title. Yet, it didn't feel right to call this place anything. Death too egregious, and Life too extroadinary; either terms felt far too extreme to his liking. There was nothing particularly hideous nor amazing about where he was. He was simply somewhere in-between.

For as long as he could remember, Stanley's world was just that. This somewhere; this in-between of not quite Death and not quite Life. This empty, greedy abyss that seemed to swallow him whole, stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. There was no sky, no ground, no anything; only the daunting dakness engulfing his every senses and leaving him horribly, hopelessly blank.

That wasn't all there was to it, however. This... somewhere, it was more than just a lifeless void.

Stanley wasn't sure if he could find the right words to properly describe it. He didn't think he could ever come to fully understand the feeling himself, but. Somehow, the abyss felt... hungry. Unimaginably, insatiably, and unbearably hungry.

The hunger seemed to eat away at Stanley, tearing off pieces of him chunk by chunk, piece by piece. With every blink, another part of himself seemed to disappear into the ravenous darkness around him. The void never took much at once, only pieces; nigh imperceptible impossibly tiny crumbs of what made him- so little that they should have hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. But Stanley noticed. He noticed every particle, every atom that was taken away from him by this greedy hunger. The darkness was eating him; digesting him.

It was as though hunger was all that mattered in this somewhere, this stomach; the world itself a single immense digestive system. He could practically feel the void's biting hunger pangs reverberate through his bones. It was so hungry, so hungry.

The dark ate him slowly, ripping him apart from inside out and outside in. It took his flesh first; stealing away the muscles and fat beneath the skin, leaving behind nothing but meager skin stretched over bone. Sometimes, not even his bones were given the luxury of being spared, and he would find himself with an odd dip in his side where the abyss had taken a rib or two; or with half his face lopsidedly sagging into a limp mess with no muscles, fat, nor eye socket to properly hold up the skin of his face onto his skull.

The hunger took without mercy, without order nor preference. It ate anything, everything, as long it helped abate the forever stabbing, starving desperation that painfully twisted and tore at its non-existent stomach. It never really was satisfied.

It got worse when it started eating his memories.

Stanley despised the thought of losing more of himself than simply his physical body to this greedy void. However, what terrified him far more than the notion that this insatiable hunger could breach even his mind, was the fact that he couldn't remember which memories it took.

Stanley couldn't remember much; before the darkness; before the endless hunger. He liked to imagine, though, of what he could have been before. He'd probably had a warm home, warmer than the cold, cold abyss. He'd probably had a loving family. Probably. He couldn't remember.

Everything turned unsure when his own mind started failing on him. Stanley tried to cling to what little he knew. He had his name held tight in his iron clad grip, repeating it to himself like a mantra. He would try and keep track of time, but it was all in vain. Time didn't seem to matter in the face of hunger. Perhaps it had been years since Stanley's arrival; hundred, maybe even thousands. Or, perhaps it had only been a few days, weeks, months. Stan once had a fleeting, terrifying thought that maybe Time too was already victim to the darkness' insatiable hunger.

However, as much as Stan could forget his past, his identity, and life, perhaps the most tragic loss to him greater than anything else was the memory of Him.

He was important to Stanley. He couldn't remember why, but he was. There was nothing of Him left in his memories. No face, no name; not even why He mattered to him in the first place. All he knew was that the loss of Him had struck him with such profound heartache and sorrow that it had left him weeping helplessly for so long, unable to move and rooted in one spot for days, weeks, years. He couldn't remember how long.

Stan was only snapped out of his comatose stupor by His hand.

It was all that was left of Him, other than the knowledge of His past existence. It was warm, a glowing red hand that pulsed almost reassuringly within Stanley's own, its long six digits curled tightly and firmly around his hand, never once faltering in its grip. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't have it. He's had it clutched within his own cold, rough palms like a lifeline since forever; every step he took and every move he made done hand in hand with Him.

Desperately, frantically, he held onto His hand, never once letting it go. Losing the hand meant losing Him for good, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to cope with the consequences of that all alone.

However, ocasionally, even the the comforting presence of His hand was unable to keep his mind anchroed for too long, and Stanley would lose track of his memories. Plagued by odd laspes of utter emptiness, Stanley would suddenly forget. His own name, his face, everything he knew and remembered would slip withut warning between his fingers like sand; streaming down, down, down and getting lost in the gaping mouth of the void below him. He would wander aimlessly with no real destination in mind, simply roaming somwhere, anywhere.

He would come across all sorts of sights during these odd episodes of his. He'd crossed paths with hundreds upon thousands of partically decomposed remnants of once living, breathing organisms; All of them endeniably, for the lack of better words: dead. He'd walked past entire forests; enormous clusters of tall pine trees completely uprooted and floating in a massive mass of rotting leaves and half digested bark. He'd walked past countless animals, big and small, all in various stages of digestion. Animals always seemed to rot away faster than anything else, and Stanley wasn't so sure what that meant for him.

Once, Stan had somehow even found his way before the destroyed remains of a universe.

It was dead. There was no other way to describe the state it was in. He hadn't even known it was possible for entire universes to simply... die. Stolen away from its rightful place in the starry night sky.

The scene was everything he'd thought impossible to take place in this all-consuming abyss. It was extroadinary. A veritable bursting cacophany of light and heat. It was as though the universe's explosion had been paused at just the right moment, frozen in time at the very moment of its heat death. Its particles flickered, undulating softly and shifting ever so slightly like looking through a warped window. If Stanley stood still enough, and listened closely, he thought he could even hear the softest sound of the shattered screams of the broken remains of the universe ringing silently in the air. It was as ethereal as it was haunting.

The thought of the unimaginable power required to be able annihilate entire universes just like that... It scared Stan.

Stanley may not be sure of anything anymore, but as he watched the debris swirl gently in the blinding epicenter of the shattered universe from afar, he knew with a certainty that he didn't think he possessed anymore, that he did not belong here.

Part 1/2

[tsarjozinzbazin]

Hiiii ! Just wanted to say I *love* your art, it is so so good !! All your drawings make me lie down irl because of how good they are !!

(also please use this ask as an excuse to post more Erebus boys art if you have any/want to make more. I love them and would love to see more of them in your artstyle <3)

@strogoff-era

Haiii pookie ty!!! 🫶 im glad you are enjoying the cold boys!

I shall abuse this ask to post the ladies!

[corvid-khaos]

for such is the price of knowledge

(based on my headcanon that ford has a prosthetic eye)

[lemongogo]

anyways . silly thing

[poppy-s-rampage]

Chapter 2: Welcome to Gotham!

Warnings: A little bit of blood, breakdown and emotional distress.

-------------------------------------

Chapter 1! | Masterpost | Chapter 3!

-------------------------------------

After finally closing up the last wound, Clockwork took a moment to look over his work. All of the young Halfa’s wounds have been sealed and treated with diluted ectoplasm. It was only enough to make the injuries look a week old at best but it will have to do.

The Ancient lifted his staff and in one swift movement ripped a hole in the fabric of reality. CW then carefully cradled Danny in his arms. Then both the Ancient and the Halfa stepped into the portal.

On the other side, they were met with an emaciated woman clad in a red and black Victorian dress accompanied by a small rose decorated matching hat. In her hand a small umbrella made of lace and what seemed to be black clouds. 

Her delicate snow white skin furrowed by ink black veins. Her blood red lips striking against the pallor of her face were pursed in worry. Her eyes, even while covered by her laced black veil, didn’t hide her apprehension.

The woman’s dress’s neckline was fashioned in the silhouette of a bat. Pearls scattered like falling stars across the red and black folds of the garment. Her waist encased in a tight bodice was embellished by small golden coins and feathers. The red fishtail spilling on the ground lazily trailing after its mistress.

The woman bowed her head, greeting the Ancient and his charge.

“Lord Clockwork.” Her raspy yet somehow suave voice resonated into the night.

“Lady Gotham.” He responded while slightly dipping his head down.

The city spirit glanced at the boy in the other’s arm. His bandaged form and torn clothes were not what first captured her attention. What truly horrified her was the state of the young Halfa’s core. Wrapped and cracked, barely a breath away from breaking and ceasing to exist.

Her own aching at the view, screaming at her to take the boy, wrap him in a bundle of blankets and nurse/guard him until at full health.

Being ended was reserved to the lowest of the low. It was a last resort that should only be used should the offender be irredeemable and too dangerous to be contained. To think that this almost happened and still could to her own king and one so young.

It was nauseating.

Lady Gotham forced herself to look away, turning her attention back to Clockwork.

“I assume he is the charge you want to bring into my care.”

“He is.” Clockwork responded.

The woman nodded, the smoke and black clouds in her umbrella spreading around her.

“Then if you will follow me.”

Lady Gotham faded and became one with the smog. The black mass zooming towards Midtown Gotham, the ancient of time on its heels.

They soon arrived in front of a small but clean apartment building. The two ghosts phased through the wall of the top floor only to be greeted by the view of a spacious yet cozy loft.

The unit was furnished with all the necessary furniture, non-ecto-contaminated food already stocked in the fridge. The space was designed in order to facilitate Daniel’s recovery. The boy would already be going through hell with his recovery and grief; it was best not to add insult to injury.

The city spirit having taken back physical form, leads Clockwork towards the bed on the second floor of the loft.

Once inside, the Ancient carefully sets Danny down on the bed and slowly covers him with a soft blanket. He then produced a pen and a neon green notepad from who knows where and started writing.

Lady Gotham approached the ghost.

“Lord ClockWork, pardon my intrusion, but wouldn’t it be best for you to explain the situation to the young king face to face.”

Clockwork paused.

“Young Daniel is too unstable to be dealing with the emotional distress my presence would bring. He has been hurt enough as it is.”

“Those excuses are nothing but the words of a coward.”

“Pardon me?”

“You are not. Are you truly running away in order to protect the boy or are you doing so to save yourself?”

“…”

“Tell me, Lord Clockwork. When the young king awakens, would he prefer to be met with an insincere apology letter from a coward or the genuine words of a man admitting to his mistakes?”

Clockwork couldn’t even utter a word.He didn’t have any excuse to defend himself. The city spirit was right.

“Your words are as sharp as ever, old friend.”

“I speak nothing but the truth, Master of Time. However, it seems to me that you are already set on your decision.”

“I-”

“I hope in your interest that you made the right choice.” The Lady snapped.

The woman turned away but not without leaving a few departing words.

“Or that at least you are prepared to face the consequences.”

Lady Gotham disappeared in a whirlwind of smog.

Clock work turned back to Daniel watching as his face scrunched up when the old ghost brushed a strand of hair away from his face.

His old core flared with parental love.

He looked so peaceful, as if nothing ever went wrong. However, In just a few hours, he would wake up and reality would come crashing down.

His bright and joyous protegee. The one he couldn’t help but adore every version of. The one he subconsciously adopted as his own child.

Clockwork couldn’t. He just couldn’t bring himself to face the hatred and pain his pupil would inevitably direct at him.

Gotham was right.

The Master of Time set down the notepad on the night table

He was a coward.

—-------

*A few hours later*

As the first few rays of sunshine broke through Gotham’s thick smog, a young black and white haired boy slowly woke up from his slumber.

It was comfortable, the soft fluffy blanket brushing against his achy skin. The warmth that comes with being cocooned in the safety of your own bed. Danny didn’t want to open his eyes. But he needed to wake up, in just a few moments Jazz would come knocking at his door to drag him to school.

The soft familiar knock never came, but the memories sure did.

Danny snapped his eyes open. Tears threatening to fall.

Clockwork -LiaR- ,the reveal, the capture -BeTraYaL-, the experiments -PaIN-, Jazz, Sam, Tucker,-PAINPAINPAIN mY FauLT- the wails, blood, explosion, death -MurDEreR!-, pain, Core breaking, burning, melting- PAIN PAIN PAIN! I ShOuLD be DeAD!-.

The Halfa now fully awake kicked the blanket enveloping him away and tried to get out of the bed.

His legs still injured and unable to support his weight gave out and he collapsed on the wooden floor in a heap.

The sharp pain of jolting his injuries and face planting further cemented to Danny that he wasn’t dreaming and that the nightmare was fully real.

“...no…NONONONONONO! Please, no! Please! I BEG YOU! PLEASE! JAZZ, TUCK, SAM PLEASE! DONT BE REAL! PLEASE!” Danny tried to say, but the only thing that came out were erratic breaths that could vaguely be associated with words. His damaged throat made it impossible to even breathe without it flaring in pain.

Choked and pained sobs filled the once silent room.

The young Halfa still collapsed on the floor cried , slowly curling up on himself hugging his knees.

---------------------

Chapter 1! | Masterpost | Chapter 3!

----------------------

See you next time!

[zivvis]

barbie doll gore mod where you can do his hair and put him in situations. it's exactly the same mod

[saints-who-never-existed]

Y'know, as much as I want to see multiple episodes-worth of everyday friendship things and Beach(y)-episode nonsense, I have to admit that my train of thought today was actually inspired more by the thought of The Lads (TM) clashing.

More specifically, it came from remembering this gem of a scene from that very earliest pilot script in which it's not Irving who reprimands Manson for his refusal to enter the hold but Dundy (who is also described in the script as "impatient and shrill")

Isn't that just so fascinating?! Le Vesconte actively displaying callousness and poor judgement right from the get-go? Gore even being a bit antagonistic in the way he belittles Dundy as he leaves? It's such a fascinating thing to me and it changes everything!

[im-smart-i-swear]

can you remember being born? were you born at all

[pittycrybabytom]

Forget-Me-Not || Eddsworld AU || Part 1

Diclaimer: • This AU includes TomTord/TordTom and EddMatt/MattEdd! • TW: Gore, "Death", Angst [Yes, there will be comfort!]

If this AU actually gets bigger I might make a blog for it but for now it stays on my main! If my english doesn't turn out to be the best, I'm german so YEAH-

[fishsoyummy]

no text version under the cut

[skunkes]

ok ok i have another way to word my thots about the movies thus far:

i think Art is pretty iconic design wise. Im not against gory slashers I think we should have more of those and I like that a series so "shocking" is doing so well...its more like.

The franchise establishes pretty immediately that it's not Serious...as mentioned the first movie has a naked woman sawed in half from crotch down so idk how you'd even make it to the 3rd one without knowing How It Is. But with how the first one barely has any plot, and the second one has A Bit More but drags on and on...its like... SO FAR (because I haven't seen the 3rd one) these movies aren't Fun to watch ykwim.

I know Saw isn't a good comparison bc its a different genre within horror but the franchise really is like a telenovela... its so stupid (good) and it has lots to complain about and pick at in the FUN way, like poking fun at peepaw and his warehouses and home depot purchases, going "are you kidding me thats so dumb" at that scene where hoffman manages to be snuck into the station in a body bag to start killing people. Varuous moments of stupid ass dialogue writing. Im not saying it cant be boring or unliked but i think it has a good balance of everything (eyerolling moments, plot, "lighthearted" and humorous moments, intentional or not) even if its not a masterpiece in the writing department.

And that's just within the series, I usually avoid bringing up fandom bc that's obviously a different beast I rarely even touch but its more about how its fandom actually has that foundation to go off of. Like you know enough about peepaw's backstory and such to springboard off of, regardless of it being good or not

Here it's like man there's a hot cool clown, lots of gore, really corny and cornily acted out writing, and its not even FUN? 😭 2 movies (again I haven't made it to the 3rd) and I wouldn't watch them again, not because of the gore but because despite not being serious, reinforced by that very drawn out over the top kill in the second one, it's not even fun... you cant even attach to the silly dialogue because the whole rest of the movie is a drag. Does this make sense? It's like. Everything combined to make it Not Fun. Whereas at least with Saw you can start joking about how someone just wasn't trying hard enough to win peepaw's foundationally silly ass "you tried to kill yourself now you're in the try not to kill yourself" trap.

It's at odds with itself. I've seen like one Halloween movie and can barely even remember it but I know all the jokes about outrunning Michael Myers (and that cat and mouse is also Fun)...theres also like 50 of those movies I KNOW theyre probably also fun to watch and complain about the absurdity... I think the issue here might also be the straightforwardness and point A point B of it all. There's not really much anyone can do against Art, which is fine, some saw traps are literally unwinnable after all. But Terrifier doesn't even give you the chance to, like, boast about how you definitely could have survived the Silence Circle trap because you're not an idiot... it's just not Fun. To me.

I think Art himself is fun and the corny dialogue are fun. I'll even go ahead and say the gore is fun because again like come on the clown literally rips a guys cock off its Absurd... but they seem to be trapped in movie(s) that so far aren't fun

[lilybug-02]

WEIRD ROUTE 4

Previous ll Next

--Full Series--

Viewer Discretion Advised. Slight Blood and Body Horror.

[hellisntreal]

a power of peace and healing//your bones run strong

I spent a very long time trying to work out a Stone design and I'm still not settled! I'm sure like my other humanizations of Fallen London entities, I'll come up with a few <3

[dafaddu]

I've walked into your dagger for the last time.

[mapicccc]

more corpse mapicc things :3

his body is constantly in a state of rotting and healing itself, with new wounds opening and closing in a matter of minutes. he has to kill things and take their energy in order to not be consumed by the rot.

as much of his body is covered in bandages as possible. he does this to hide potential weak points caused by rot wounds from his enemies and it helps keep his body intact.

he is not just one creature and his body will shift from one to the next with him having no control over it. in order to stay humanesqe, he must keep killing.

he cannot truly die until he no longer gains from creatures around him, so his deaths work by opponents stopping him from fighting. this normally results in his body being cut up and split apart. tnt is very effective against him.

low hearts make the effects of the rot much worse.

certain players have different effects on him after he kills them based on their own afflictions. this can be either helpful or hurtful.

[impostorsshow]

I'm actually so obsessed with him it's not even funny if i'm not listening to a TikTok or music directly related to him I can't focus free me free me

This is @/cherubpuppet's OC for a object show [au? pitch? wip show? How do I categorize this] and I've been destroyed by the fact that ruler art is infinitely superior [and 10x longer] and i don't have a good enough grasp on lip gloss's personality to make fanfiction so I am frozen in "want make fanart but fanart takes effort :["