#cw descriptive death

[krscblw-2]

some moments last forever, but some flare out with love, love, love

[vive-le-roi-au]

Prologue

(This post contains both images and text.)

(You’d been looping back to just the third floor for… you don’t know how many loops. Hundreds?)

(Maybe that was the problem. You didn’t do it all in one go. You just have to do it all, from start to finish, and kill the King.)

(From the top.)

(…Again.)

(You went back. Again.)

(Maybe you took too long. Just need to go faster.)

(…No. Still not enough.)

(It feels good though. Killing the one who killed you, thousands of times. It’s cathartic.)

(You’re even strong enough that you don’t need the Housemaid—MIRABELLE. HER NAME IS MIRABELLE, MIRABELLE, MIRABELLE!!!)

(…You don’t need Mirabelle’s help anymore.)

(…)

(You wouldn’t mind doing this a few more times.)

(…)

(Back to the stage, Siffrin.)

(…)

(…)

(…)

(It’s just another part of the loops now.)

(Go through the House. Kill the King. Talk to the Head Housemaiden. Something’s broken, failing, rotting. Loop back to Dormont.)

(The worst part?)

(Murdering the King has stopped bringing you joy.)

(It used to make you smile, seeing him crumble, blood spilling from his mouth, pooling on the ground.)

(Sometimes, you reduce his body to dust, cutting it up more and more and more until there’s nothing left. You’ve killed him slowly, draining him of his strength and bleeding him from a million places all over, watching the light slowly leave his eyes.)

(And you can’t even enjoy it anymore.)

(…)

(So why are you still here?)

(Whose fault is it that you’re trapped here?)

[tomato-bird-art]

“What shall we hang? The holly or each other?”

Made a last minute print inspired by my favorite Toxic Christmas Movie, The Lion in Winter (1968). I always love doing a detailed piece like this! I’ll be selling prints at EBABZ tomorrow, but feel free to pick up a copy on my storenvy as well <3

[ehghtyseven]

devastating news about adam johnson [x] [x]

[ap article about the incident]

[taylor’s article about the incident - contains some graphic description]

[taylor’s article about adam ahead of his penguins debut in 2019]

[esteemed-excellency]

Ok I finished the eel story, it was fun! I really liked all the marine descriptions in the middle and the love story at the end (and the kraken). Also I love that in Fallen London you can eat an eel that went through ego death. Normal nutritious meal 👍

[3-2-whump]

The Morgue

<prev next>

Dear Readers,

Yep. This is it. Eternal's last chapter (at least for now). Thank you for sticking around for so long, I appreciated each and every one of you for reading this story and interacting with it! And thank you beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for reading draft after freaking draft of this story for months now; I look forward to collaborating with you in the future.

The ending is kind of open ended, and I acknowledge this may frustrate some people, but I promise I'm not gonna pull a Netflix and drop this series on a cliffhanger (looks passive-aggressively at Netflix). Whatever happens next is for tomorrow; today, without further ado, here is the conclusion to Eternal!

TW/CW: death of a major character, aftermath of death of a major character, gore /graphic descriptions of a corpse, blood, emotional angst (I think?), nonconsensual nudity, slave whump /transfer of ownership, defiant whumpee, creepy whumper

Khaled was more than a little concerned when he woke up the next morning and his master’s bedroom was still empty. He was downright worried that he had not heard even a word from him by midday. This is so unlike him, Khaled thought as he checked the spare phone for any text messages he might’ve missed in the night. No new messages. Where is he?

He went to his room and retrieved his hidden cellphone from the place he had hidden it. There was one new message from Julio, but Khaled quickly swiped past it to text the one other contact he had on this illicit device.

To: Nic-Nac Have you seen the Boss today? He didn’t come home last night.

The subtle click of the door unlocking made his heart jump into his throat. Khaled quickly hid the phone away, bolted into the living room, chucked off the blanket, and assumed a perfect kneeling positon by the entrance, back straight, chest out, palms down on thighs, just as he’d been trained. His heart sank as the door opened and a man who was definitely not his master entered the apartment.

“Throw a coat on and-” Underboss Luca dropped his gaze down at Khaled once he realized he was not at eye-level. “Oh, right,” he groaned, punctuating his comment with a dismissive eye roll. “Should’ve known you’d be on your knees.” Khaled’s cheeks flushed bright red. “Get up and put some clothes on, we need to go to the morgue and identify a body!”

The last part of that command jolted Khaled out of his conditioning as abruptly as a kick in the teeth. “Wait, what?!” he asked, straightening up from his kneeling position.

“Just get dressed and come with me!” Luca said. He fumbled around his pockets until he found a small key. “You know where the safe is; get your clothes, and let’s go,” he instructed, tossing it to Khaled.

The young man caught it and dashed to the safe in the master bedroom, unlocking it and sprinting with the pile of clothes in his arms to change in his own bedroom. As he quickly dressed, he had an unshakeable feeling of dread. Thomas not coming home at all last night, no communication this morning, Luca coming over, and now this trip to the morgue –it was all adding up. If his master was truly dead, then he had no idea if or when he would be back at the apartment.

Khaled saw the designated hiding space for his cash jar out of the corner of his eye. He yanked it out and emptied it onto the bed, quickly folding and stuffing the dollar bills into every pocket, fold, and crevice of his outfit he could manage. Lastly, he grabbed his forbidden cellphone from its hiding place and jammed it into his pants pocket as he sprinted out to meet his foreboding feeling head-on.

Luca filled him in on the details as they drove to the morgue. A little after six in the morning, a bloodied and mangled body had been found hanging upside down from a crane at the dockyard. The ID in the dead man’s coat pocket had identified him as Thomas J Costa, but his face was barely recognizable beneath the blood and gore. The forensic pathologist would need a positive ID on the dead man’s corpse before they could tell the coroner to issue the death certificate for Don Costa, hence the need for Luca and Khaled to come down to the morgue.

“You know, if it is Tommy-boy on that slab, all of his assets will immediately be transferred to my control,” Luca reminded him, snaking an arm around the young man in a feigned gesture of comfort as they walked to the entrance of the morgue. “All of them,” he whispered. Khaled bristled under the other man’s touch as Luca moved his hand downwards. He did not miss the hidden meaning of those words. He jumped a little as Luca experimentally groped his ass on the way through the entrance.

The forensic pathologist met the men, their androgynous face set into a grim expression. “Next of kin for Mr. Thomas J Costa?” they asked. Both men nodded. The pathologist waved at them to follow them. “I gotta warn you though, he’s not a pretty picture. I cleaned him up as best I could, but just be prepared.”

No forewarning could’ve prepared Khaled for what he saw when the sheet was lifted from the corpse on that autopsy table. He recognized the cold gray eyes that now stared unseeingly up at him, the telltale scar at the man’s left temple, and what remained of the skull and snake tattoo on the man’s left pec, but that was about it. The rest of his master’s body looked as if wild animals had gotten to it. His usual dirty-blond hair was stained a coppery red, matted in places with clotted blood. There were cuts, bruises, and even burns scattered around his face, disfiguring it into something near unrecognizable. A long, jagged cut ran from his jugular down to his sternum, deep crimson with coagulated blood that had long since stopped bubbling from its schism. Deep gashes of a knife punctured his upper body and torso. His privates were…gone… and his legs from upper thighs to ankles were littered in cuts and bruises. The soles of his feet looked as if they had been burned away. Merely looking at his feet made Khaled feel faint, so he let his eyes travel back to Thomas’ face. The man’s dull gray eyes stared up at him.

“Well, is this him?”

“Yes,” Luca answered solemnly. He quickly swiped a hand over his eyes and took a breath to compose himself before turning to Khaled.

No matter how much he wanted to, he could not tear his gaze from the man’s dead eyes. He gave a small nod, at a complete loss for words otherwise. The pathologist merely answered a quiet “okay” before draping the sheet back onto Don Costa’s mutilated body, shielding Khaled from those steel gray eyes forever.

It’s finally happened, he thought. Master is dead… Instead of hope, or sorrow, or anger, or even a sick sense of satisfaction from witnessing this karmic justice, Khaled searched within himself and found nothing. He felt nothing, and then he questioned what kind of person he was, to feel nothing.

“Khaled, hey, Khaled…” a faint voice called out to him through the fog of his mind. Khaled stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move as he stared down at the veiled corpse.

“Khaled, sweetie, it’s time to go.”

He’s dead now, which means…which means what? The feeling of Luca roughly pulling him away from the autopsy table and dragging him back the way they came answered his own question for him. All the while, Khaled took shelter in his thoughts, not even fighting back as he tried to process what he just saw and what it meant for him. The man who had fed me, clothed me, given me everything is dead, and now, what am I?

“Well, it looks like you’re mine now,” Luca announced, pulling on his leather gloves as they exited the morgue and stepped into the parking lot.

That snapped Khaled out of his mind quick. The man who had once openly said he would’ve taken him while he was still a minor flashed him a small, sad smile. “Of all the ways I could’ve gotten you, this is the last one I wanted,” he admitted. He raised a gloved hand to Khaled’s face, gently caressing his cheek with leather-clad fingers. “But maybe, together, we can help each other process our loss.”

No. Khaled shook his head. Luca’s soft caresses quickly hardened into a crushing grip on his face. He drew him in closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “You’re mine now, Khaled,” he growled, glaring into the young man’s eyes. “I never approved of the erratic, unpredictable way Tommy treated you, and I promised myself that when it was my turn, I would be better.” Khaled’s hands scratched at Luca’s arm, which only served to tighten the hand around his jaw. “But not if you’re going to fight me the entire time!” He drew Khaled in closer, too close for comfort, as he maintained that crushing grip on his face. “So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna be a good boy for Master, or are you gonna make me hurt you?”

Letting go of Khaled’s face to allow him to answer was the greatest mistake Luca would make. With a fierce desperation to die rather than be owned by someone far worse than Thomas, Khaled drew his head back and collided their skulls with a crushing force. Both men withdrew from each other, each groaning in pain as they held their heads, but Khaled recovered from the head-butt first, and used the ten-second head start to make a run for it out the parking lot.

“You bitch! Get back here, you stupid little slut!” and various threats of bodily harm were shouted at him as he ran. He kept running, even when he rounded the corner and an exposed piece of chain-link fence grazed his thigh, nipping the skin enough to draw blood. He kept running, even when he wasn’t sure which streets he was running down as he single-mindedly sprinted ahead, most definitely lost. He kept running, even as the tears blurred his vision and the cold air stung his throat and lungs, and every time he tried to blink back his tears all he saw were those cold, dead eyes staring up lifelessly back at him. He kept running.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[kudossi]

a fallen star will be thy fate

The walk to the Moonpool is strange and otherworldly, as if he’d fallen into the past and the seers around him were nothing more than ghosts, specters of light and shadow with no secrets weighing heavily on their brows. Kestrelflight, barely older than Jayfeather, tries to strike up a facsimile of a conversation, but Jayfeather isn’t in the mood for petty platitudes or idle chit-chat. He keeps his head down and moves, slots his paws into the ancient footholds made by cats so old they were nothing but echoes.

Ahead of him, someone gasps.

It isn’t the gasp of a newly-named apprentice glimpsing the Moonpool for the first time.

It isn’t the gasp of a particularly spectacular night, where he's told that the stars are clear enough in the pool to lap up with delicate strokes of the tongue.

It isn’t the gasp of someone falling, of someone losing their footing, of someone bumping into someone else.

No, it’s a gasp of terror, and it roots Jayfeather to the ground.

“Ashfur,” Leafpool breathes, and Jayfeather knows her well enough to feel as fear spikes up her frozen legs, wrapping around her heart. The scent of blood in the air becomes heavy and cloying as the seers stir the still air, as they wreath around the pool like frightened ants, courses interrupted to the point of spiraling.

Someone is screeching. He thinks that it’s Flamepaw. The seers are talking over each other now, their words and emotions pounding into Jayfeather’s brain in a senseless cacophony.

Willowshine, curiously, is still, any emotion she might have been experiencing tamped-down and quiet. “He’s floating in the pool,” she comments. “It’s full of blood.”

Ashfur has been dead for a quarter-moon, and now he’s floating in the Clans’ most sacred place?

“He’s been missing for sun-cycles,” Jayfeather manages.

“He looks it,” Willowshine says blithely. “He’s bloated on the side facing the air. The flesh on his underside is all but gone. There’s bits of tissue at the sides of the pool. His eye looks like it’ll come out of the socket soon enough.”

“How are you so calm?”

Willowshine scoffs. It isn’t much like her. “How are you?” she asks.

“I can’t see him,” Jayfeather retorts. “I’m blind.”

His companion laughs as if he’d told a particularly funny joke. “When has that ever stopped you?”

[omniversentertwined]

@scumbag-the-hedgehog continued ask PT 2, Yako edition [ x ]

ㅤㅤThere had always been the potential that this would happen. Controlling one's creations through manipulation and fear only worked for so long as said creations did not gain sense or bravery. The fusion she'd crafted from multiple other mobians and the addition of an alien's DNA had so strangely repressed all prior memories of its experience with her -- in which she was a source of pain, and they merely her multiple captives. In place of those memories was an almost childlike attachment to her, as though she were their loving guardian.

ㅤㅤSurely, it would have continued that way, were it not for her creation stumbling across their project files -- reading notes and bearing witness to video logs. The truth was on painful display, for them, and their reality was brought crashing down around them. Memories that they'd buried for their own sanity are ripped to the forefront, and when she finally found them, their collective hatred for the one who had done this to them had resurfaced in full, as well.

ㅤㅤShe hadn't had enough time to properly react, barreled into and flung against the metal walls of her laboratory. Likely the only reason her head hadn't been crushed as the backside of a tentacle was roughly whipped against the wall she'd been flung into was because after the wind had been knocked out of her, she'd fallen instead to the floor. Though she'd attempted to desperately escape the next attack, however, the agonized scream as sharp stingers stabbed into the backs of her legs was sure to echo across the West Wing, alerting any who could hear it that something was very wrong.

ㅤㅤThis very scream was also likely what had drawn the speedster to her location, in the first place. Being slowly crushed within the grasp of her abomination, perhaps it was lucky that their focus had been solely on attempting to murder her. It gave him the opening he needed to launch his own attacks -- force them to let go of her, dropping her not far from her desk.

ㅤㅤFocusing on the immediate threat that kept them from their prey, they'd launched a counterstrike, and the altercation gave Yako the time she needed to drag herself with what bones and muscles were still in one piece towards a single drawer. A seemingly soon-to-be victory for the maddened creature, they suddenly lock up before ultimately collapsing -- the remote control Yako had grabbed activating the chip she'd planted near their spine long ago.

ㅤㅤIn no way could this be considered a victory for any side, however. There was no guarantee that her creation would recover, from this. The neural lock was meant to be a last resort -- saved only for situations like this, where she could no longer control them, and her life was at risk. The damaged she'd sustained, as well, was clear even to her. It was agonizing to breathe, and with a heaving of blood and bile, she could only assume her ribs had pierced her lungs, and other internal organs had been ruptured, as well.

ㅤㅤEven if she were taken to the medical ward, in this state, it was unlikely that she would survive. Perhaps the speedster had planned to attempt it, anyway, collecting her from the floor and telling her to just hold on as she cries out in pain. A singular feeling that she recognizes surfaces -- the pumping of adrenaline, the desperate desire to stay alive. Yes, she would always remember something as terrible as fear.

ㅤㅤ" N --- o o.. No, no n o--- I--- I do n ot--- want to di e.. N ot ye t--- p lease---please, not....nn ot ye t--- " Slowly ever-quieter, she repeats this. She pleads for help, choked whispers begging him not to let her die.

ㅤㅤBy the time they reach the medical ward, both her pleading and her heart have stopped.

[podcast-hemocytoblast]

I think something that often gets overlooked about the Lonely is that it isn’t just the fear of being rejected, abandoned, and unloved.

It is that, but it’s also the heavy sense of dread that settles in your bones when you realize that whatever danger you’re in, you have to deal with it on your own. It’s the realization that no one is around to hear you scream and that no one is coming to save you. It’s the feeling of calling emergency services (911, 119, etc.) and asking the operator when help is coming, only to be told that no one is coming, because they’re all tied up on other calls right now, so it may be another hour or so before anyone gets to you. It’s the visceral terror you feel when you finally realize that the help you need is never going to come, or if it does, they won’t be there until it’s already too late for you. It’s realizing that you’ll never see your loved ones again, and wondering if anyone will ever find your body, if anyone is going to care that you’re gone, if anyone is ever going to find out what happened to you, if anyone is even going to realize that you’re dead.

[inkyrainstorms]

Assorted sketches from @aroace-get-out-of-my-face’s fic!! Because what the fuck!!! Why is it so good and pretty and terrifying. You. Look at Ford in the corner he’s devastated IM devastated and not ready for chapter six but also so so ready. These guys are going through it.

literally the description of Stan was so vivid I HAD to draw it. And I’ve been meaning to draw the chair scene since forever. The rest just kind of happened

individuals under the cut!

These are my two favorites. They ripped my heart to shreds I fear

[incendavery]

heartbreak; betrayal; rejection

(image description in alt text)

[ask-dippers-second-family]

Character profile? Sure, why not!

This is 32-year-old CASSANDRA CIPHER (29 during canon), the oldest daughter of BILL CIPHER and STANFORD PINES.

She’s what one would consider a mad scientist, usually holed up in her personal lab working on whatever latest invention she’s come up with, though she rarely finishes them. Her favorite inventions are a gun that shoots spontaneously combusting bullets and a computer system that can transmit data across time, allowing her to listen to music and look at memes from the future.

She also definitely does NOT have personal issues tied to her self-worth and does NOT blame herself one bit for Bill’s “death”. Nope. Not one bit.

She does, however, carry on the family tradition of getting blackout drunk at Mexican restaurants and karaoke bars.

Other pastimes include hunting monsters and making crafts out of animal bones and glitter glue. She doesn’t trust easily, but if she comes to like you, do not accept a friendship bracelet from her. It will be made out of rat intestines and deer teeth.

She also has a pet pig! His name is Kris P. Bacon and she stole him from the Mystery Fair. She also cast a spell on him that turned him telepathic, because she can, so now she has a telepathic pig. Mabel loves him and arranges playdates between him and Waddles all the time.

Favorite song lyric:

If CRAZY equals GENIUS

Then I’m a FUCKING ARSONIST

I’m a ROCKET SCIENTIST

- CASSANDRA 🔥

[echoingkarma]

Questions

Reblogs are appreciated!

[axel-tiredstudent]

OC MASTERPOST WOOHOO ⭐

Although there's still a lot to plan and do before this story is anywhere near done and I don't even have a first draft yet, I really wanted to talk about it and share who my OCs are (since i keep talking about them in here).

This story (called Ewordis) is one of necromancy, otherness and isolation, but it's also about love, saving and connection!

The main character is Absalom García Medina (much to his own dismay). He is 22 years old and studies fine art in university. He's also a drummer in a band with his two closest friends. Absalom comes from a long line of necromancers! He doesn't really understand or control his powers, but he's set on his goal of finding his mother's spirit, which he has never been able to do!

Almudena is Absalom's grandmother, who raised him when Alma (her daughter), passed away. They are both also necromancers. Almudena taught Absalom how to use his powers until she died when Absalom was 12. She's still with him as a spirit.

Alma died in labor. Not only was she a necromancer, but she also had prophetic visions, something not common in their family. Neither Absalom nor Almudena have ever found her soul.

Angel is Absalom's best friend since they were in higschool. They take care and support each other through everything. Angel has a beautiful voice and she can play many instruments. She's the singer, songwriter and guitarist of their band.

Naomi met Angel and Absalom when they were looking for a bassist for their band. They became close soon and shortly after he started dating Angel!

Percy is Absalom's ex boyfriend. Their relationship was rocky and difficult, which really affected Absalom. They still see each other sometimes, but Percy doesn't seem to be willing to change for the better as a person, which is why Angel dislikes him and wants him to stay away from her best friend.

Ozzie is a non human creature that Absalom meets in the realm between life and death. Ozzie doesn't remember anything of his life before appearing there and he can't go to the living realm, so he and Absalom decide to find out what he is.

Victor also comes from a line of necromancers. He meets Absalom in a graveyard, after many spirits warn Absalom of a creature eating their corpses there. That would be Victor! Victor was brought back to life by his necromancer abusive father and now he's forced to feed on human flesh to not become a mindless "monster".

The Knight of Death is one of the Horrors. No one really knows of their existence, but necromancy powers are related to the Horror of Death. How is it related to the Medina Family? What will Absalom do when faced to this Knight?

LONGER EXPLANATION BELOW THE CUT

As I said before, Absalom comes from a long line of necromancers, this gift/curse always passes down to one person in the family. He got it from his mother, Alma, and she got it from hers, Almudena. Alma died in labor so Absalom was raised in a small close-minded village by his grandmother. Since it was little, Absalom has been able to see and communicate with the dead. Almudena taught him how to use his powers and insisted that this is a gift that makes them special. Nevertheless, she also taught him to hide it to avoid rejection from people outside their family. Even with their powers, there was something neither Absalom nor his grandmother were ever able to do: find Alma's soul.

When Absalom is 12, Almudena dies and Absalom, unable to find her either and suspecting her dead is related to the necromancy, blames their power for it. And so he starts seeing this power as a curse instead of a gift. Something that he doesn't truly control nor understand, something that scares him and isolates him. Absalom goes to live in a bigger city with his uncle. It spends a few rough years feeling alone and othered until, at 15, he meets Angel! They bond over their mutual love for music, being rejects in their school and their queerness. During their teenage years they both join a few bands and, finally, at 19-20, they decide to create their own music band, with Angel as the songer-guitarist and Absalom as the drummer. They are on the look out for a bassits when they meet Naomi. They quickly click and Naomi becomes the third member of TTT (Tres Tristes Trigres). A few months later, Naomi and Angel start dating! Playing with them is one of Absalom's favorite things in the world, and he trusts them more than anyone else. Nevertheless, he never tells them about his necromancy but they do notice weird, worrying things about him.

At 19-20, Absalom meets Percy after bumping into him a few times in campus and in local concerts. They hit it off immediately and start dating shortly after that. They're both interested in music and art. At first, their relationship seems perfect. Absalom (who's in the aro spectrum) falls in love for the first time and he feels really happy and loved, something he has truly struggled with for all his life. As time goes by, their relationship starts to get rocky, they fight and argue a lot, but they always go back to each other. Their relationship ends up beng really toxic on both sides. Percy is manipulative and cheats on him and Absalom is jealous and desperate for this idyllic love and comfort they had at first. But, thanks to Angel and Naomi's support, Absalom breaks up with him after dating for a year and half. During the time they were dating, Percy started noticing a few odd things that surround Absalom, like weird aggresive energies around them after they fought. No matter how many times Angel warns Absalom against it, sometimes, when it feels lonely, it goes back to Percy, looking for momentary comfort.

Regarding the necromancy gift/curse. Its origins are uncertain to the family but what does it exactlty allow them to do? The Medina family (or at least those that inherit it) can see spirits in their daily life and communicate with them (spirits may appear everywhere and they mostly can tell when someone is able to see them so they may follow necromancers around, there's more spirits in places like graveyards tho; they don't really have that much consciousness, except for the spirits of necromancers, like Almudena, who Absalom will be able to find at some point). Thanks to this power they can also search for (and most of the time) find the spirit of a specific person (but still, Absalom is never able to find Alma, which tortures him). Another thing that they can do is enter Ewordis.

Ewordis is the realm between life and death (but closer to death, as no living creatures can enter it, except for some necromancers). Ewordis is a inmense white space full of mostly nothingness and some spirits where time doesn't really exist. Absalom hides there when he gets too overwhelmed by real life, thinking that avoiding reality helps him. When he enters Ewordis, his real body is frozen in time, so he can stay there for days or weeks without truly noticing. But time itself doesn't stop. This has lead to his friends worrying after not hearing of him for days in more than one occasion. Isolating himself in Ewordis like this is something that Absalom does to cope when he is really really bad and he tells no one about it. He doesn't really understand what this realm truly is, nor where does it lead. What are the secrets that hide beyond this seemingly vast white empty unreal territory?

One day, after Absalom's mental health worsens and he goes back to hiding in Ewordis, he meets, for the first time, a demon-looking huge guy! Absalom is shocked, because he did not know of the existence of creatures like him. This "demon" tells him he remembers nothing of before being in Ewordis and that he himself doesn't know what he is. They keep bumping into each other when Absalom enter Ewordis, and it notices that this demon must be lonely. They talk a lot and become friends, and Absalom tells him about his life in the living realm. He ends up naming the demon Ozzie, after one of his favorite movies: "The Wizard of Oz". They decide to try and find out what Ozzie is.

After many spirits start following Absalom around and telling him about a monster eating their corpses in a graveyard, Absalom decides to investigate and get rid of all of them. Not really because he wants to help them, but because he wants to be left alone. He goes to the graveyard at night and he founds a thin young man crying next to an open grave. When he sees Absalom, he runs away. This young man is Victor. Victor also comes from one of the few necromancers families left. Their powers are different to those of the Medina family tho, since they are more related to the pyshical body and flesh than to the spirit. He was alive many years ago and he lived with his two siblings and his abusive father. Victor killed himself to escape his father but he brought him back, mixing his body and soul with those of other corpses. Now Victor is forced to feed on human corpses to keep their conscience. Victor loathes his father, who keeps him locked in their old mansion and forces him to keep himself alive. Thanks to his powers, his father has kept himself and his children alive for many many years.

Necromancy powers are directly related to the Horror of Death. There are many Horrors related to different aspects of existence. The Horrors are cosmic entities beyond human comprehension. More ancient that everything. They are neutral entities, not bad nor good. They just exist and keep balance. They have no human morality or feelings. Or at least, that's how it should be. So why can't Absalom die? Who protects him and why? Where is Alma's soul? Who are the other Horrors and how do their existence affect the characters lives?

[omniversentertwined]

lilacgod asked:

just..just hang on... [for libra]

ㅤㅤShe knew that this would happen -- as powerful a seal as she had established on the destructive Chaos Spirit, it was bound to wear down over time, or be tampered with by an outside force. Considering the speed at which it occurred, she could only assume the latter option to be the most likely, but who could have done it is a mystery, to her. She wouldn't have time to investigate, however. The moment she'd felt it break, she knew he would be coming for her -- a direct target for the rage he'd been left to fester in, for the slight against him that was thwarting his desires for ultimate destruction at every turn.

ㅤㅤCelios had lent her a hand in dealing with him, before -- forcing him into a standstill long enough to seal him back within his ruined timeline. The damage the one she loved had suffered that day stained her mind to this very moment, filling her with a determination to never let it happen, again. So even when he'd insisted on assisting her in once again fending off the invading threat, she'd pushed back against the idea.. Pleas were made, fearful tears were shed, and promises were given before she..eventually relented -- deciding that no matter what happened in this battle, she would do whatever it took to keep Jenovah's claws from sinking into Celios' heart, once more.

ㅤㅤWith the assumption that someone had broken Jenovah's seal, as well, Libra understood that simply sealing him away once more was futile. However, as a Chaos Spirit, there was no true way of killing him. Even if his corporeal form were to be destroyed, he would merely return to the Chaos Force and await his next vessel. Though, considering how long it took him to be able to gain his last one..even if his memory of her would persist and his rage would never falter, at least they should have more time. It wasn't perfect nor anything remotely ideal, but it was the best option they had, given the situation.

ㅤㅤShe'd made a grave miscalculation in just how much Chaos Energy he'd been storing in his body, however. With constant, uninterrupted access to the emeralds in his timeline, he'd been able to regularly drain and wait for each to recharge in preparation for when the seal would be undone. It was clear from the moment they arrived at his last location only to be immediately met with interception that draining him of energy to the point where they could temporarily return him to the Chaos Force would be a much harder-fought battle than initially planned.

ㅤㅤThat wasn't to say they weren't holding their own, of course. Even with how quickly the sheer amount of energy he held was healing his wounds, with each attack and counter-attack they launched against him, they were using up his energy. It was something he could clearly recognize, denoted by a moment of clear frustration -- but one that quickly melted into something more manic as Libra rushed forward, javelin gripped tightly and ready to bring down on him once more. Deftly, he moves in tune with her forward motion, grabbing onto the hilt and yanking her forward for a closer proximity -- clawed fingers squeezing around her neck to root her in place.

ㅤㅤThough Celios had begun quickly closing the space in turn to aid the goddess, the quick build-up and release of a ground-leveling Chaos Blast was enough to simultaneously force back the god and gravely injure the goddess. Pushing further and maintaining his hold on her throat, he fires off like a shot towards the ground with her -- dazing her with the impact of her cranium against the rock.

ㅤㅤThrough the ringing in her ears she can vaguely hear Celios call out to her -- through the blur and the concussion she can feel the squeeze around her neck lift, release. As if in slow motion, she can make out the figure of Celios as he drags the still-corporeal spirit off of her, re-engaging with what felt like even fiercer attacks. She could tell surely just as he could, the threat to both of their lives was growing ever-greater, and gods as they were, they were eventually going to run out of stamina.

ㅤㅤㅤSooner or later, he would succeed in killing one of them.

ㅤㅤDetermination and desperation begin to come to a head -- a last ditch idea coming to her mind. So long as Jenovah remained here, he would be separated from his home timeline. Neither he nor the energy he'd brought with him belonged here -- they were an anomaly that was actively causing damage to the timeline he'd invaded. The energy he'd used up and was continuing to use now also worked in her favor.

ㅤㅤDisplacing so much energy at the start wouldn't have been possible -- the time it would have required would have been far too great, and the focus she needed would have gotten them killed much faster than now. To target the remaining energy needed to defeat him now, however, returning it to the original source and draining his form was feasible, even with the damage she had sustained in their battle. She would likely only get one chance at this -- and it is not an opportunity she wastes.

ㅤㅤHe, of course, notices the sudden plummeting of his own energy -- and quickly realizes the reason behind it. Rage spikes as he hones in on the goddess, fighting with greater desperation to reach her. Tangling with and deflecting against the larger god, he slowly forces his way towards the jackalope, fur and quills slowly losing their luster as his energy reaches its lowest level in centuries. Getting all he needed with a grasp on her arm, the sacrifice from a single Chaos Control was more than worth this final moment of "alone time" in the sky. He would be killing the source of his rage -- he refused to accept any other outcome. If this was his end, then so be it. If he was going down, she would be going with him.

ㅤㅤAs the last of his energy was drained, he lands the final blow -- thrusting his claws into and through her chest, manic laughter echoing while his form faded into nothing. The moment he dissipates, she falls back to the earth, below. Heart and lungs torn through, she's already barely clinging to life by the time her body hits the ground. Even so, she can hear the muffled plea for her to just hang on.

ㅤㅤ" Αστέρι μου.. " she tries to call him, tries to reach for him, wipe away at tears that stream down and drip against her bruised and blood-stained cheeks -- but her limbs have no more strength. She cannot even be certain her words might reach him, throat feeling so dry, so hoarse that her cries may as well be whispers, dying on final breaths. " It's..o--kay now... It will--be al...right.. I'm--I'm sorry... " No, Petal, please--

ㅤㅤPetal... Through vision quickly becoming unfocused, she can feel the stinging in her eyes -- such a sweet nickname that he'd given her, and so painful to hear now as she knew this would be the last time she'd hear it.. She had always thought it so fitting for him to call her that -- though, likely not for any reason he had intended. She was, after all, but a tiny, more fragile part of an ever-growing, flowering tree. Had she been more than a mere fragment of herself, would this have ended differently? Ah..it was far too late for regrets so massive as that..

ㅤㅤForcing on a smile, the light finally leaves her eyes. " I..love..y ou.. "

[ask-the-devils-bastard]

Hell Wasps are probably just those Murder Hornets earth was briefly dealing with.

Interesting that they made it to the hotel though.

I wonder if they were seeking out Nifty for a battle of legends?

Warning: Temporary character death, demonic insects, and description of gore.

[Angel Dust exits his room just before noon, still clearly tired from last night's shoot. His hair and makeup are immaculately done but the slight hunch of his shoulders gives him away. However he perks up as a buzzing noise reaches his ears.]

Angel Dust: Fuck, did Niff get into my work shit again?

Angel Dust: (shouting) 'Ey, Niffty! If you got one a my vibrators stuck in the wall again, we're gonna have a proble-

[Angel Dust stops short as he rounds the corner towards the elevator and comes upon a gristly scene. Dozens of insect corpses litter the hallway, each about six-inches in length with vivid red and gold patterns shaped like screaming faces across their black carapaces. The insects have drill-shaped heads with needle-like mouths and two-inch long stingers oozing a viscous yellow fluid. Their corpses are littered with punctures, oozing viscera across the brand new carpets.]

[The insects aren't what have Angel gaping, however. All eight eyes are firmly locked on Niffty; her upper body, at least, dangling from a crumbling hole in the wall that hadn't been there when he'd stumbled home at one in the morning. Her manic expression is nowhere to be seen, face slack, bloodshot eye rolled far back into her skull. Her cheeks are sallow with pulpy flesh oozing from the open sores littering her face and remaining arm. Suddenly Niffty twitches and for a second Angel thinks she might still be alive until she begins to recede backwards into the wall. He can only watch helplessly as she disappears from view.]

[Angel Dust glances at the elevator, at the far end of the hall with a pit of flesh-eating Hell bugs between him and it. Then he spins on his heel and books it in the opposite direction towards the stairs.]

Angel Dust: Nope nope nope nope NOPE! AAAAAAAAAL!