#grimfate

[slugterra-twisted-ends]

The Universal Slug shut his eye to the world

[fetznerdeathrecords]

Grim Fate / Mancuerda - Slaughterhouse of Agony (split EP)

Death Doom split from the Netherlands

This split is an alliance of friendship between both bands. Both bands deliver two new tracks of relentless Old School Dutch Death Metal. Just the way we love it. As a bonus both bands deliver a cover track. Grim Fate covers Autopsy's cult classic "In The Grip Of Winter", and Mancuerda gives us their own filthy take on Celtic Frost's "Procreation Of The Wicked" (OEH!).

@grimfateofficial Doom Death Metal from the Netherlands

@mancuerdanl Doom Death Metal from the Netherlands

1. Grim Fate - Forever in Agony 05:12 2. Grim Fate - Christian Filth 04:42 3. Grim Fate - In the Grip of Winter (Autopsy cover) 04:08 4. Mancuerda - Human Slaughterhouse 04:33 5. Mancuerda - Philosophy of a Knife 04:24 6. Mancuerda - Procreation of the Wicked (Celtic Frost cover) 03:45

Release date: November 24th, 2025 via @seedofdoomrecords@meat5000records

[embodies]

horror writing prompts : send a 💀, get a horror drabble/starter. ↪ @grimfate + 52. a fate worse than death.

now you're in the sunken place.   when widowmaker jolts to consciousness, she cannot strictly assess where she is. her eyes deceive her, surroundings distorted and out of focus.   she gets the distinct feeling that she's floating.   her heartbeat   (   slow, arrhythmic, artificial   )   thrums in her ears like a premonition. as the world seems to rebuild itself around her, the assassin decides that not everything is quite as it appears.

in a bleached - white laboratory with a one - way mirror looking in, widowmaker's body lies dormant. sensors are taped to her temples, a visor shrouding her eyes, her arms and legs cradled in a throng of cables, vitals equipment, a drip puncturing her forearm.

in a conjoining room that might have been its twin, reaper lies in a similar state.

the scientist observes.

❛ —reyes ? ❜

in the sunken place, recognition paves way to confusion.   wherever she is, she is not alone in wandering its halls. the skitter of spiders tinges the place, the faint lullaby of classical music trickling to her ears.   she wonders if he hears it too.

❛   what are you doing here   ?   and where is here   ?   i don't   . . .   ❜

remember.

the same words had left her when her husband took his last breath.

[ubcs]

[SNIP], from rebecca! she promises it won't be too drastic of a cut, just enough that she won't worry so much about his vision being obscured in a dire situation. maybe a little [STYLE] afterwards, too. something that still showcases those gorgeous curls, of course.

do stuff to his hair. || tentatively accepting.

"Y' know, I would normally do this myself..."

A snip of dark hair falls in front of his nose, getting into the cracks of a shattered glass piece in Carlos' palm. He brushed aside the glittery remains of a compact mirror, which he'd produced from his vest to see for himself if his bangs had really become so unruly that it warranted her concern. But the thing had been smashed maybe in the last skirmish, or any of the dozens of ones before then. Whichever the damning event was, the result was the same: his personal mirror was beyond use.

It looks magical, this glove full of silver in this light, tipping out onto the floor as Carlos brushed his palms. He sat still as the scissors came in close to his face. The fine grooming shears were familiar because they were his own, brandished them when she even began to suggest using the ones from her medical kits. Only the bangs, that was the ultimatum when she got them.

"Pretty sure I don't normally have a problem seeing? Uh, or I don't notice it." His eyes opened up to her with a crinkle from trying to not to smile, shifting around in the office hair with its faulty wheel and too-low seat. "Not that I'm complaining. Right now, it's a pretty good view."

Standing behind him, the view of the back of his hair appears near black with high gloss as a sign of of health, slipping through her fingers with ease. Tangle free though thick, as she styles it with scrunching and tousling, though in her care the fluffy layers become sleek, and for all her efforts Carlos gives away praise with aw, mans and happy huffs. When it was over he had only a potent, childish moue.

"OK, break it to me. Am I still gorgeous?" This grin certainly seems to think so.

[slugterra-twisted-ends]

Without my Friends (Animatic)

I tried twice to get this to upload to Tumblr, but alas, the file seems to be having troubles. So I'll send it here as a link to my Instagram's version;

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Okami On'anoko (@okamiochan)

[slugterra-twisted-ends]

Slugterra: Into the Eliverse

Based on the idea presented in @slugterra_slugitout2 's (on Instagram) Eli Cavern, why not have all my AUs of Eli meet up with one another in the classic Spiderman pointing meme?

Along the top, we have Twisted Ends Eli (closest to canon), Swapterra Eli (the one in Eli coloured Twist's outfit), Stolen Sibling Eli (white haired with Twist's outfit), and Grimfate (one eyed in a Will inspired outfit) Along the bottom we have Surface Bound (beanie and hoodie), Downfall (Dark Bane-like), and Genderbent (the one with a ponytail)

[solitarysurvival]

@grimfate said: ❛  i’ve never been part of a group before.  ❜ from dweet 😔😩

jake raises a brow, glancing sidelong at him. dwight was, as always—bizarrely earnest. expression crinkles with a faint amusement, and he laughs, quiet and low in his chest; ❝ … yeah? is it everything you hoped it'd be? ❞ jake could make an educated guess— their shitshow day-to-day seemed to always involve running from some fucked up monster—and getting disemboweled in new and exciting ways.

❝ yeah, i’ve been on my own for so long, i kind of forgot what it felt like. ❞ … because you never wanted to rely on anyone, did you? but now they rely on you, too. ❝ i, uh. ❞ he wrings his hands, clears his throat awkwardly. it was easier to make a joke, it tasted less bitter; ❝ — i was always pretty bad at team sports. ❞ half-smile betrays him, fleeting and secret.

then a beat, where he hesitates. how close had he come to his own solitary death, alone on the forest floor, or at the bottom of some cliffside? he remembers the first time here— the blood pooling around him, soaking through the fabric of his coat, his heartbeat slowing in his ears. jake hadn't thought much of him then; blood spattered spectacles, a trembling hand hauling him up from the mud. another poor fucker doomed to this prison. another 'better them than you'. it had been so much easier when he didn't know their names. meg, claudette. nea. but it was dwight that had pulled them all together.

❝ hey, look, ❞ he searches out dwight's gaze over the hazy campfire; ❝ … we'd probably still be fucked, wandering around this place, alone, if it weren't for you. ❞ he shrugs, just as quick to turn his eyes back to the ground, ❝ so. i don't know? maybe don't be so fucking hard on yourself all the time. ❞

[embodies]

' i don’t know who the bigger threat is - the dead, or the living. ' ↪ @grimfate​ : widowmaker + sigma.

many so often dismiss de kuiper’s anecdotes to himself as the ramblings of a madman, but widowmaker has always chosen to hold his words to account. she finds they are more often than not stooped in fact and that the experiments have not fried his intellect half as much as moira would like them all to think. they are rats in a maze, god forbid they gain united consciousness. and if a rebellion came to fruition, et alors ? it is even less frequent that she chooses to indulge in such conversations, typically preferring to remain focused on the forefront and let him muse to himself. today must be a very special day.

❛ if the apocalypse gave me more ammunition to work with, they would both be a non - threat. ❜ her voice drawls with thick french undertones, wringing out the length of her hair at the riverside. across the water the horde trudges gormlessly : there is no beauty in these undead things, not like a true loss of life. they are stupid and decayed, matter long since laid to waste bloated with artificial existence. if she could, she would feel pity for them and an eerie sense of kindred. she knows their way. a beat of silence before she responds in truth. ❛ the living. they are capable of evil things. to kill is instinct : to torture is man made. ❜