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cosmicaddress · 1 year

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ESPer Talent: Necromancy

“He ... he doesn’t just talk, Harry, he doesn't ask. Doesn’t even try. He just reaches in and takes, steals. You can’t hide anything from him. He finds his answers in your blood, your guts, in the marrow of your very bones. The dead can’t feel pain, Harry, or they shouldn’t. But that’s part of his talent, too. When Boris Dragosani works, he makes us feel it. I felt his knives, his hands, his tearing nails. knew everything he did, and all of it was hell! After one minute I would have told him everything, but that’s not his way, it's not his art. How could he be sure I told the truth? But his way he knows it’s the truth! It’s written in skin and muscle, in ligaments and tendons and corpuscles. He can read it in brain fluid, in the mucus of the eye and ear, in the texture of the dead tissue itself!” —Sir Keenan Gormley, deceased

Classically speaking, a necromancer practices divination by communicating with the dead. While this definition is essentially true in real life, what is overlooked (or ignored) by this definition is that the necromancer communicates through torture, ripping the secrets of the dead from their souls by ripping their dead body apart with fingers, nails, teeth, and tongue.

Remember, a person’s body and soul are inextricably united; therefore, for a necromancer, the corpse is a means of accessing the dead person’s mind. Manipulating the body allows the necromancer to manipulate the knowledge of the deceased. In essence, the knowledge of the dead is embedded in their spirit, which is embedded in their body. If a necromancer wants that knowledge, all he has to do is rip the body apart and take it out, much like someone ripping open a long-awaited gift to find the present within (and, necromancers being what they are, it is often done with as much glee).

Unfortunately for the deceased, this action is torture. While lying fallow in the grave, a dead person experiences only the quiet darkness of death and the hazy indistinct caress of feeling their body slowly transmute into soil. Nothing bad there, just a quiet, lazy, lonely existence. Imagine their shock when they discover their loneliness can be violated when the gentle decomposition of the years is a seeming eternity of violent malicious savagery.

It is torture, indeed, of both the body and soul. The body is torn apart like prey, ripped and broken brutally to reveal every secret; the soul is laid naked before the searing eyes of the interrogator. After a necromantic examination, the remains of the body are grotesque at best and are often scattered about for several meters. The remains of the soul shudder in fear forever after.

For the necromancer, an interrogation is one part hunt and one part self-flagellation. During an examination, a necromancer lets his basest psychic instincts take control of his mind and body. He tears at the corpse with frenzied lust, using tools only when brute strength alone cannot rend the body fast enough. Necromancers use every sense available to them. As an old Lord of the Wamphyri explained to a new necromancer clutching the corpse of a bird,

“Now break open the body! Tear it open! Crush the skull between your fingers and listen to the vapors of the brain! Look at it in your hands, the entrails, the guts and feathers and blood, and bones! Taste it! Use all your senses: touch, taste, see, hear, smell! Use all five—and you will discover a sixth!”

All of this imposes a psychological burden on these psychics. Rare is the necromancer that does not shudder to find himself gore-spattered after his examination, clutching a spleen in one hand and picking a piece of lung from his teeth with the other. Worse still is the necromancer who enjoys it.

The length of time which has passed since death is of no importance to a necromancer; he can wrest the knowledge from a mummy with almost as much ease as from a person he killed himself. Remember, the soul doesn’t go anywhere after death—which is part of what makes a necromancer so frightening: for the victim, there is no escape.

On the other hand, this does not mean that a necromancer is unconcerned about how long a corpse has been dead. First of all, the longer a body has decomposed, the harder it is to tear it apart. A body that has rotted thoroughly is already non-contiguous, and it is harder for a necromancer to uncover those secrets. Also, long-dead bodies are a potential source of disease for the necromancer, and careful precautions must be taken. Finally, long-dead corpses are more psychologically damaging to the necromancer—who wants to taste the brain fluid of someone who reeks of decay and whose flesh sloughs off the bones at the lightest touch?

Necromancers are rare creatures, which is fortunate considering how obscene it is to watch them at their task. There may be no more than a dozen or so in the world at any time. A necromancer in modern society has little chance—let alone desire—to discover or practice his craft. In all likelihood, any given person will never be within one hundred kilometers of a necromancer, practicing or not.

#jcink premium #jcink roleplay #jcink rp #jcink sci fi #jcink horror #rp: wrinkles & voids #rp: the destroying angel #rp: the cosmic address #tda #content warning: gore

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hrokkall · 6 months

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DIVINE AUTOPSY

Text from a post by @bedrock-to-buildheight about angel anatomy and the physical manifestations of regret that can only be purged in a bloody vivisection.

#Ultrakill #V1 Ultrakill #Gabriel Ultrakill #Gabv1el #<- Sorry if you find this in the tag but also is it really an Ultrakill ship(ish) piece without gratuitous viscera #Okay. Now time for every content warning under the sun so I don't accidentally flashbang anyone with this:#Cw gore #Cw blood #Tw gore #Tw blood #Gore #Blood #Hopefully one of those works. If not I am so damn sorry.#Anyway I've been working on this on-and-off for months; if you could spare a glance that would be much appreciated #ALSO yes I know this wouldn't be an autopsy because he's still alive. I know. I just like the words + that's the file name. 👍 peace & love #Hrokkall art #1k

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madokacorpse · 5 months

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cry-ptidd · 22 days

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"And she had brown eyes like a lamb, innocent and golden"

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suntails · 6 months

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(mild gore)

fealty

#i. i dont know if there's a better way to content warn on tumblr. im not gonna lie ive never posted something that could need one #like this gore seems v v mild to me so i wasnt sure if it needed it at all? but like idk i wanna try to be respectful i wanna TRY #this was my main page piece for the horror zine!! jokes on u the lettie collab was a SIDE commitment. this was my main deal #i saw this so clearly like a vision in my head. its what made me want to apply in the first place ouughghh #its the service. its the undying loyalty. its the devotion and commitment to serving the throne. im WEAK im a SUCKER #i rly do just think something abt royalty settings invoke so much in me. its immediately intriguing and diasom has it BAD (positive)#i do what i must for my people. the silver fans. when he is suffering the content is tasty like im sorry but its true </3 i love him #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #suntails #mild gore #gore

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deepseafisher · 1 month

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m0r1bund · 1 year

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“1ore, couldn’t you separate these into individual pieces so that they aren’t a mile long” absolutely not. I hope you understand. Image captions are enclosed under the cut for length, continue reading below or at m0r1bund.com ▶︎

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[Image: A sketch page of two space marine-lookin’ gals. The one on the top right is a Sibyl, or some kind of warrior-priest, and she looks like your average lawful good paladin. She is outfitted in heavy power armor, wielding a huge claymore and a cog-shaped shield that’s just out of view. She has a somewhat dour profile with a strong jaw, sharp chin, and aquiline nose. A streak of grey runs through her long, black hair, and her undereyes are adorned with dark and heavy mascara, or maybe facepaint. Two wing-shaped ornaments rise from the air canister/jump pack on her back, adorned with prayer tags.

Her counterpart on the left, the ex-Sibyl, is outfitted in a similar fashion. She looks more like the frontrunner of a heavy metal band, though. Her armor is defaced with paintings of teeth and eyes, studded to hell and back, and singed in places. Several broken wing ornaments hang from the hem of her tattered shawl, like a fringe, and they sway as she raises up a bolter the size of her forearm. She has equally strong features as her cohort, but they’re softened a bit, with a broad nose that bows slightly at the end, and a more rounded jawline. Her head is shaved in a messy undercut, with long, white bangs flopping over the left half of her face. She wears black lipstick and smiles unhingedly, eyes wide enough to show her black sclera.

The right half of her face is overtaken with the inky black tendrils of some sort of shapeshifting disease. They creep down to where her right arm would otherwise be, unravelling like strings of smoke, or roots. The many cords of tissue come together at the end and form a huge, clawed hand.

Various sketches show the Sibyl and ex-Sibyl locked in bloody combat with each other. Contending with the shapeshifter is an ordeal—she advances on the Sibyl, limbs passing like smoke through her sword and shield, but the Sibyl holds her own. Though the Sibyl wears a helmet, and the ex-Sibyl a mask, they seem to lock eyes with one another.

Even when she is grievously injured and bleeding out, the Sibyl rebukes her foe. She weakly balls her fist around the ex-Sibyl’s shawl and pushes her away. The ex-Sibyl unmasks out of respect and cradles the Sibyl’s body, but it’s hard to say whether the woman perceives her deranged smile as respectful. Another drawing shows the ex-Sibyl dragging her old enemy’s body away, leaving bloody smears in the dirt.

When the Sibyl comes to, she’s not dead—just lying on an altar with her wounds mysteriously dressed. She maybe wishes she was dead, though, judging from her indignant expression. She finds and confronts the ex-Sibyl with a kitchen knife, but it’s hard to hold a knife to that shit-eating grin when it’s the same shit-eating grin that saved her life.

The rest of the drawings unravel in many different directions. Other encounters are shown, with the two Sibyls getting maybe a little bit too close in the heat of battle. In one, the ex-Sibyl kisses the Sibyl’s knuckles like a knight swearing fealty; in another, the Sibyl tries very very very hard to read a holy text while the ex-Sibyl wraps her monstrous arms around her, tendrils creeping in unhelpful directions.

One drawing shows the Sibyl spearing her rival clear through the torso. The ex-Sibyl is unbothered, flesh unravelling into those cords of shapeshifting tissue. “Is there even anything human left in you?” asks the Sibyl, to which her foe responds “How am I supposed to know if you keep dismembering me?”

A series of margin doodles shows the Sibyl holding the ex-Sibyl at gunpoint, straining, and saying “If I go to hell for this I’m taking you with me.” The ex-Sibyl gasps, touches her face with glee, and says “PROMISE???”

Another comic shows our old friends, the Chief and her research assistant, discussing the new arrivals. The R.A. wraps her arms around the Chief’s big shoulders and says “There were other women in your company? This is great! You must be so happy to see them again!”

The Chief strains. “Um—”

At that, the Sibyl rocks up and postures at the two women, smiling menacingly. “Irene Lysimachia Isidoros,” she says, addressing the Chief with her full name.

The Chief strains harder. “Hello, sister.”

The Sibyl continues. “Heh… So the rumors are true. You’ve gone soft. Of course, I always knew you were a weak-willed fool.”

The Chief’s silence is interrupted only by the sound of the R.A.’s opinion taking a swandive, but before either of them can say anything, the ex-Sibyl kicks down the door and says “HEY. PRIESTESS.”

The Sibyl turns to look, and is rendered speechless by the shock of seeing her old enemy again. It ends when the ex-Sibyl points a gun at her (entirely good humoredly! Really!) and says “FUCK YOU”

There’s also a riff on Ward Sutton’s ‘Sickos Guy’ comic somewhere in there, yeah. Just for laughs. The ex-Sibyl presses her face up against a window, grinning and saying “Yes… Ha ha ha… YES!”]

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Hello. Last week I woke up with a thought that went something like this:

The Chief is probably more than enough disgraced space marine for one woman to handle.

~But what if I made another ooooone~

so uhhhh enjoy the walking Otep song. The Theseus’ (relation)ship.

They are… Sibyls, or warrior-priests, or something. Religious guides who keep the rest of their company in line and safeguard them against ‘temptation’ or whatever. The one on the left is an ex-Sibyl who got a little fucked up by the endeme, and was dropped by the Empire like a bad habit. Her cohort on the right was dispatched to replace her. No they don’t have names yet ): help

They meet on the fields of war and quickly become nemeses. They both know that belief is fragile, and much of it hinges on carefully-constructed Imperial propaganda… So whenever the ex-Sibyl blasphemes, it sits in the back of the Sibyl’s head for weeks like an inoperable bullet wound. Of course, the Sibyl demands nothing short of perfection and perfect devotion from herself. She’s never had a chip in her armor until now. The more she thinks about it, the angrier she gets. This rivalry becomes Extremely personal and she Will be the one to wipe that deranged grin off of the ex-Sibyl’s face, dammit.

The feeling is mutual. Somehow they always find each other, and lock themselves in blood combat until they’re the only ones left still going at it. The ex-Sibyl has the great (mis)fortune of being an unkillable lesbian, and though the same can’t be said of her rival, that doesn’t mean much when they’re both walking tanks made of bullets and power armor. They are fully committed to their mutually assured destruction e.g. dragging each other kicking and screaming to hell.

At least, until the Sibyl is mortally injured in battle. This is unacceptable to her blood rival. What is she going to do if she loses her nemesis? Get another one? Absolutely not. Never felt this way before and never will again. The ex-Sibyl personally drags her back to her Foul Den of Iniquity and tends her rival’s wounds with all the love and devotion that she was never shown, while she was still serving. Likewise, this is the single most selfless act of kindness that the Sibyl has ever experienced, committed by the single most vile woman she has ever had the misfortune of meeting. One thing does not compute with the other. It would be so easy to just kill her and get over it, but suddenly that’s starting to feel like a herculean task, and not just because of the whole ‘unkillable lesbian’ thing.

This may have some kind of effect on the blood rivalry. They will Not be talking about it.

Other things:

The ex-Sibyl’s collection of wing crests are trophies taken in battle from other members of her former company. Not necessarily from those she killed, but most people just assume they are. (Meanwhile someone, somewhere comes back with one or both crests comically missing.)

The Chief previously worked with the ex-Sibyl, who was both more agreeable and less agreeable than her replacement. More agreeable because of her warmer and more empathetic demeanor; less agreeable because she was keenly aware that the Chief carries some, err, emotional baggage from the whole Markus debacle. It’s hard to be vulnerable with the one who is watching you for the slightest sign of weakness, waiting for you to slip up. The ex-Sibyl goes M.I.A. sometime after their dispatch to Earth, so her successor doesn’t really meet the Chief or learn about all this until it’s public knowledge.

Shamelessly stealing lore that whips from the most unfortunately-named chaos space marine warband in 40k: the ex-Sibyl never unmasks on the battlefield except when facing her worstie <3 love wins.

Gender dynamics are whatever (read: I think about it so much that I don’t want to think about it) but I still picture the Chief as a black sheep for being the only woman in her company. That the two Sibyls come after her is probably significant. Somehow less isolated and more isolated because they are two very different but equally awful people to deal with. Messy messy.

yeah that’s the Chief’s actual real full name

#chief and the r.a. tag #chief tag #maila reyes tag #content warning: blood #content warning: gore #content warning: injury #content warning: war #content warning: for the love of god these women need deprogramming

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buboplague · 8 months

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#this one had to get posted by itself in case of content warning whoops #traditional #sketches #sketchbook #art #blood #gore #ink #pen

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erzmaple · 3 months

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i love mlp infection aus so i wanted to draw smth similar

#cw: gore #tw g0re #mlp infection au #zombies #fluttershy #yo how many content warnings should i put on this #doodle #my art #blood cw #rotting #gore lover

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wafflecreamcat · 1 month

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They were friends in every universe. . .

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madokacorpse · 3 months

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!! FAKE ALL !! FAKE ALL !!

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90scully · 1 year

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THE FLY (1986) dir. David Cronenberg

#cw vomit #the fly #idk what to tag this for content warning so pls let me know #horror #mygifs #cw gore #horrorgifs #classichorrorblog #horroredit #jeff goldblum #geena davis #daily80s #filmedit #filmgif #userhorroredits #junkfooddaily #dailyhorrorgifs #cw body horror

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happyk44 · 4 months

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Nico grabbing an enemy by the wrist before they can strike down on him and it would be easy to steal the life from the pulse beneath his fingertips, turn the air in their lungs into his own, but there's a myriad of fighters around him and one life isn't going to power him enough to blast away them all when he's already so tired as it is. He wishes he was bigger, stronger.

He squeezes his hand tight around the wrist he holds back. It shatters. Their sword clatters to the ground. It's not a human noise they make - well, it is, they're human.

Until they aren't. Until boney spikes rip through their clothes, emerging sharp and dangerous from their spine. He squeezes harder. The skin around their skull ripples, like bugs crawling underneath. Then bursts blood and spit and flesh as their jaw unhooks. Teeth pitter-patter onto the ground as larger, sharper, whiter fangs emerge violently in their place.

Their face splits just above the nose as another jaw grows around their eyes, as their esophagus snaps and elongates upwards, as blood and flesh and viscera pour like an unholy flood, arms tearing, legs cracking, flesh hanging off bloody bone, nothing but a monster left behind.

Nothing but a nightmare.

It croons at him. The soul beneath is twisted, ugly, beautiful, spread thin across their new body, new bones, like the veins of their now still and battered heart. It pulses like the lungs torn by their feet once did.

The world has silenced itself in the emergence of Nico's new pet. He squeezes the new wrist, the bone firm and clean beneath his touch.

"Defend me," he whispers.

It croons again, shuffling back on four feet. The world quakes as it turns. The world shivers as it regards them, predator to prey, standing larger than them all, and far more dangerous as they ever recalled it to once be.

And the world screams when it lunges.

#happy talks pjo #my writing #HFWU inspired me to start thinking abt one of my OCs again and bing bong here we are - projecting his powers onto Nico lol #nah but i did used to think about nico controlling people's bones and if that would lend to the creation of them #hes not really creating - he's just encouraging what was already there and guiding it into shape #like that guy who turned that tree into a chair 👍#anyway #my fanfic #pjo fanfic #nico di angelo #do i need content warnings for this?#gore tw #body horror tw #i think that's it?

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