#death on the pale horse by gustave dore

[diioonysus]

memento mori

[classic-art-favourites]

Death on the Pale Horse by Gustave Dore, 1865.

[ama979302]

An Angel Appears to Balaam (detail) - Gustave Doré, 1880.

Illustration for Paradise Lost, Satan Descends to Earth - Gustave Doré, 1866.

Purgatory Canto 29, The 24 elders in the apocalyptic procession - Gustave Doré, 1867.

Illustration for The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The Blessed Angelic Spirits - Gustave Doré, 1876.

Inferno Canto 9, The Burning Tombs of Arch Heretics - Gustave Doré, 1866.

Purgatory Canto 9, Dante carried by the eagle in his dream - Gustave Dore, 1867.

Illustration for Orlando Furioso, Astolfo Travels Over Many Lands on the Hippogriff - Gustave Doré, 1879.

Illustration for Rime of the Ancient Mariner, After the Shipwreck - Gustave Doré, 1876.

Pardise Canto 8, Dante meets Charles Martel in the third sphere of heaven - Gustave Doré, 1867.

Illustration for Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The Rotting Sea - Gustave Doré, 1876.

Paradise Canto 18, The Angels in the Sphere of Jupiter - Gustave Doré, 1867.

Illustration for Paradise Lost: So numberless were those bad angels seen, Hovering on wing, under the cope of hell - Gustave Doré, 1866.

Illustration for Paradise Lost, Satan and Beelzebub on the Burning Lake - Gustave Doré, 1866.

Illustration for The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The Death Fires Danced at Night - Gustave Doré, 1876.

The Monkey and the Dolphin, an Illustration from Fontaine's Fables - Gustave Doré, 1870.

Inferno Canto 11, The Burning Tomb of Pope Anastasius - Gustave Doré, 1866.

The Giant Nimrod in the Ninth and last circle of Hell - Gustave Dore 1885.

The Descent of the Spirit - Gustave Doré, 1880.

Illustration for Peau d’Âne, by Charles Perrault - Gustave Doré, 1867.

Death on the Pale Horse - Gustave Doré, 1880.

Satan resting on the Mountain - Gustave Dore, 1866.

The Fall of the Rebel Angels - Gustave Doré, 1872.

Illustration for Paradise Lost, Satan Talks to the Council of Hell - Gustave Doré, 1866.

Illustration for The Raven - Gustave Doré, 1883.

Paradise Canto 5, The Angels in the Planet Mercury - Gustave Doré, 1867.

Far Away Shines a Single Ray - Gustave Doré, 1865.

The Death of Saint Louis - Gustave Dore, 1877.

[blackstaranise]

Azrael and Sophia

/imagine prompt: arriv'd in Paradise, Mother Sin embraces all conquering Death, in the style of Gustave Dore, Pablo Alaudell, --ar 2:3 --q 2 --niji 5

"Mean while in Paradise the hellish pair Too soon arriv'd, Sin there in power before, Once actual, now in body, and to dwell Habitual habitant; behind her Death Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet On his pale horse: to whom Sin thus began. Second of Satan sprung, all conquering Death, What thinkst thou of our Empire now, though earnd With travail difficult, not better farr Then stil at Hels dark threshold to have sate watch, Unnam'd, undreaded, and thy self half starv'd? Whom thus the Sin-born Monster answered soon. To mee, who with eternal Famin pine, Alike is Hell, or Paradise, Or Heaven, There best, where most with ravin I may meet; Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems To stuff this Maw, this vast unhide-bound Corps. To whom th'incestuous Mother thus repli'd. Thou therefore on these Herbs, and Fruits and Flours Feed first, on each Beast next, and Fish, and Fowle, No homely morsels, and whatever thing The Sithe of Time mowes down, dvour unspar'd, Till I in Man residing through the Race, His thoughts, his looks, words, actions all infect, and season him thy last and sweetest prey."

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

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔥 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔫, 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔓𝔞𝔩𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔰𝔢. 𝔈𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔶 𝔊𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔇𝔬𝔯é (յՑճՏ).

[mysterious-secret-garden]

Gustave Doré - Death on the Pale Horse.

[srndpt2024]

Gustave Dore "Death on the Pale Horse"

[talonabraxas]

Death on a pale horse by Gustave Dore.

[automnenoir]

“And I looked, and behold, a pale horse! And its rider’s name was Death, and Hades followed him. And they were given authority over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by wild beasts of the earth.”

artist: Gustave Dore

[exquisitecorpses]

“ scythe “ ; 2017.

[lady-of-glass-and-bone]

Nine Lives and Then Some

I just bought 1-4 of the Final Destination movies and I needed to do this.

Death x Reader

Warnings: death/angst

Death has a job to do and you're just making it harder.

(picture is of ‘Death on the Pale Horse’ Gustave Dore,1865)

You had somehow managed to stir one of the universes most powerful and inescapable forces into a frenzy that would be spoken of for eons.

Death was normally cool and collected even when a human or few managed to inadvertently skirt away from their end. There was always another spool of phenomenon to unfurl around the humans, leading them to the inevitable time of departure.

Delays didn't mean much when you had all of time to work around some bumps in the road.

But you. You weren't simply a bump. You were a mountain, just plopped down right in the middle of all the carefully laid plans and schemes.

Death had respect for humans, truly. Even more so for the ones who became aware of the plan and tried (but eventually failed) to rewrite the end. To escape, scrambling for more time.

But you? You were just mocking Death because you didn't even seem to be trying to avoid it! Didn't even seem to notice. Or didn't care. But then how were you still alive?

You were driving Death up the proverbial walls, stirring the ire of an ancient force who wielded unlimited power.

And you had no clue.

You took a different route for no real reason at the last second on your way to some mundane errand and had Death wishing for eyes simply so it could claw at them.

You woke up late one morning to a deadly yet simple trap Death had set in your very own home only to spot and avoid it, and frankly, that was more embarrassing than Death would ever admit to.

A simple distraction created for a driver as you went to cross the street, only for you to hesitate in your steps, looking over your shoulder at a barking dog. Death could only look on, boiling in irritation, at your smiling face as you showered the dog with attention.

Death didn't take breaks. Could multitask like it was nobody's business. You were merely one of many humans on the list and while some took more finesse and planning, to check off, you were confounding.

But you had to go! It was as simple as that.

Death knew humans sometimes took a step back from projects to refresh their minds or to gain some perspective on it as a whole. So that's what Death did, stepped away to focus on other humans that needed to go.

So Death crafted other plans, stacked up action against action in intricate detail only to pull a string, sit back, and watch them all tumble against each other into chaotic order.

None of which involved you.

Not that Death didn't keep an eye on you though. Looking in on you at least one maybe five okay fine seven times a day, for purely observational reasons, of course. There was absolutely no other reason for Death to be so invested in such a happy silly, resilient frustrating, lovely puny, intelligent irritating, force of nature human other than to make a trap that you couldn't unknowingly wriggle your way out of.

And it worked. Until it didn't.

It was during one of Death's daily observations of you that it happened. You were walking home from work at a small shop which sold flowers. The evening sun was stretching orange light across the sky as it sank toward the horizon between the skyscrapers.

You lived in a city where streets were crowded and buildings sat snug beside bigger buildings. And in Death's line of work, cities were a hot bed for accidents and crime, easily manipulated to fit a plan.

And crime was a tool, a horrible one yes, but Death wielded it just the same. Fate dealt with it more often than not, pushing or shielding humans to and from it.

Beings such as them didn't dwell on who it hurt because it was in the plan, a part of the bigger picture.

That being said, Death didn't always have a conscious hand in every humans passing, some just happened. Fate sometimes helped (or hindered, depending on the situation) with those. Just simple acts that led to simple casualties.

Not even Death was privy to Fate's inner workings, the why's attached to the who's weren't Death's concern. Not til you.

Now it was rushing towards you like a. . . well, like a bullet.

Your observant nature and kind heart would lay you out on the hard cement of the city. Just another body. It was as vivid as blood on snow, unfolding in a minuscule amount of time now that it was holding the full attention of the timeless being.

It made Death feel small, frozen. Afraid.

You heard struggling in the alley, one you walked by every day, a muted voice with vicious intent. The thud of a hit connecting with it's target. Flesh on flesh.

"Hey!" Your voice sounded louder as it bounced off the alley walls. One, two, three small steps in and it was over.

The gun was lifted away from intimidating it's original target and aimed at you. The hand holding it was young. Startled.

You only had time to blink, eyes going wide as they focused on the weapon. Your last thought was that you had only ever seen one on TV and in movies.

And then you felt pain bloom in your chest, knocking the air right out of your lungs as the impact sent you backward, skull cracking on the pavement. You never caught your breath.

The bullet was aimed with an accuracy that the man holding it would never fully understand. It hadn't been your voice that startled him first.

There had been a tap on his shoulder, he would tell the cops later when they tracked him down, but when he turned to look it was just you. Standing at the mouth of the alley, too far away and looking fiercely concerned.

He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. Death knew that. Death didn't particularly care.

Sometimes accidents happened. But Death wasn't behind this one. Death was on the opposite side this time and it burned like an imploding star.

Death understood the tears and wails at funerals. Finally, it was clear how one human death could create so much more pain than any physical wound.

Death had been trying to kill you without knowing why. You were just on the list. And now, Death could never see you again. Someone had done the job right.

No more watching you whisper to the plants about inane things. No more wondering why you were always kind to that one neighbor who was endlessly in a foul mood.

No more smiles and petting strangers dogs or reaching for dreams only you knew about.

If Death had anyone around to notice, they would say the fierce and rigid immortal was in mourning.

The plans became more ruthless, deaths more painful and grisly. But Death never took any human that wasn't on the list. Not even if they got in the way or tried to stop the plan.

The guilt came and went. Death was all powerful but apparently not enough to save you. Maybe Fate just got sick of you being around when you shouldn't have and took action.

Did Fate know how much you had wormed your way into Death's thoughts. Had you become a distraction?

Eventually, with confusion and guilt weighing it down, Death took a break.

Being on Earth was not new for Death, nor was having a human body.

The first thing the newly suited Death did was walk to all the places it had seen you visit the most. The flower shop. A coffee place that you only ever ordered hot chocolate from. A small dinner with a simple menu you had all but memorized.

Your home was the last place Death visited. Bending the rules and simply slipping through walls and doors until suddenly Death was there.

The middle of your living room was half packed away. Pictures gone from shelves, books probably donated somewhere, plants wilting.

The smell was new to Death, the smell of you. Warmth, chocolate, earthy. It was stronger in the bedroom, the only room that was seemingly untouched.

Sitting on the end of your bed, Death looks solemnly around.

It was the brightest room by far, not to the human eye but Death could see the aura you had left etched into the walls.

It would fade and Death would stay until every single speck blinked out. A decade or a hundred years, it didn't matter.

Fate could make plans and steal lives for whatever reasons that were deemed necessary and Death could take a damn break.

"I thought you'd be coming sooner." A voice so familiar breaks the quiet and Death almost doesn't believe it's yours. But there you are, standing in the doorway, solid and there but only to Death.

Smiling at Death, no pain, no blood and no hesitation. You hold out your hand.

"I didn't mean to make such a fuss," you say, smile faltering a bit "I was just following my gut."

"Well," Death takes in a great, unnecessary breath and stands "I cannot fault you for that, you did cheat me a time or two."

"Ha ha, aren't you hilarious."

Your hand is warm when Death takes hold of it, loosely at first but your grip tightens. No letting go now.

Death feels a smile pull across it's face and you return it, absolutely glowing.

"You gonna show me all the big secrets?" Now you're grinning, voice breathy and excited.

"And then some" Death promises with a kiss to your hand.

[the-suns-also-rise]

Allusions (3/?): Gustave Dore’s Death on a Pale Horse

This scene really stood out to me the first time I watched Season One. Here, an unconscious Clarke is being carried away from the Grounders by a masked man on horseback. We don’t know until later that the rider is Lincoln.

It starts in slow-motion, moving the figures in-and-out of obscurity, and gradually transitions to real-time. At the same time, the audio overlays the sound of hoofbeats with the slow beating of Clarke’s heart, quickening as she wakes. It feels as if Clarke is gradually waking from one nightmare only to be riding towards the next.

My first thought during this scene was of Gustave Dore’s Death on a Pale Horse (even down to the horse’s gusts of breath, its flowing mane, and the eerie shadows shifting in the background):

This engraving illustrates Revelations 6:7-8 from the Bible, which prophesies the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and the end of the world.

I am seeing Lincoln, implacable and silent in his skull mask, standing in for an iconographic depiction of Death on his nightmare steed. This not only foreshadows Lincoln’s upcoming transformation into a Reaper, but also provides a striking image of Clarke, cradled in Death’s arms, riding on towards all the events leading to the Apocalypse/Praimfaya.

Bonus! The Commander of Death leaving Polis on her pale horse:

[theladyinthegraveyard]

Gustave Dore - Death on the pale horse

[psychopathic-tendencies666]

Gustave Dore: Death on a Pale Horse

[jair-pineda]

"Death on a pale horse " by Gustave Dore #GustaveDore

[xcjxedge]

My rendition of Death on the Pale Horse by Gustave Dore thank you so much Toby! Done while at @thelacemakerssweatshop in London. London I have time tomorrow and this weekend! Email me asap! I bounce Sunday! To everyone who has already sent me emails I apologize for the delay! I will be getting around to answering everyone in a timely manner I promise! For appointments: xcjxtattoo@gmail.com NOW BOOKING FOR: London, UK: June 19-30 Los Angeles: July 5-19 Oakland: July 22-26 Vancouver, Canada: August 24-30 Seattle: September 3-6 Salem, Massachusetts: October Puerto Rico: December #xcjxtattooer #tattoo #tattoos #tattooing #ink #blackwork #Europe #Art #London #Berlin #cvltnation #darkartists #Norway #Rome #darksouls #undead #blackmetal #medieval #witchcraft #blackclaw #reaper #onlythedarkest #death #dore #blackworkerssubmission #witch #paganism #folklore (at The Lacemakers Sweatshop)