#necromancy tw

[theloveinc]

Yandere!pro-hero!Deku but only in sense that he’s unable to cope with losing you. He has all the money in Japan so what else is he supposed to do but find someone with a quirk that can bring you back to life?

He’s the reason you died in the first place, and Deku is convinced he’s got to make it up to you somehow, to fill the dip in the bed that you made but no longer fill, to patch the hole left in his heart by a villain out for revenge…

It’s not the same when you wake up, you’re half rotten by the time he finds someone to reanimate you, skin falling off from being frozen in his basement (and that’s something they can’t fix and he doesn’t know who to call to help…)

But you’re alive again. There in his living room, your living room. Blinking and breathing and walking, even if it’s uneven somewhat from the loss of some of your smaller digits and all that muscle.

He says your name and you look but don’t respond, something the necromancer would say might happen… the brain never quite makes a full recovery if stopped once, but Deku knows the old you is in there, deep down somewhere, and he’s determined not to lose you again.

[darkwingsnark]

‘So what if Mario died?’

A Bowsario AU idea.

Step 1.) kill the man. Pick your poison, could be as simple as Mario dying during a more routine kidnapping or even one of the more random and evil villains. Point is, at the end of the day, you need a body-- so no King Boo trapping him in paintings just to rip it up.

Step 2.) Bowser can’t let it go. He doesn’t exactly know why, his own feelings mixed up with emptiness and anger from Mario having the gull to DIE. Real rude, man. Well Bowser isn’t going to just sit there and let the man be dead. It isn’t in the cards, at least not the ones he’s playing with-- Bowser always stacking things in his favor. So he waits for some time after the funeral so as to not having witnesses as he sends peeps off to steal a whole Mario. Just snatched him from the ground-- free dead man.

Step 3.) Resurrection. You’ve heard of Dry Bones and Dry Bowser, now lets see how you deal with Dry Mario. That’s right, Bowser has Kamek do some necromancy. Mario wakes in a gasp-- despite not having lungs-- not having memories of his death. He probably thinks it’s still mid adventure. He realizes he’s in Bowser’s castle, and of course he’s just going to break out. No kidnapping good ol’ Mario. Not today!

Step 4.) Mario fights his way out only to be confronted by Bowser. Bowser is relieved to see him alive and moving. He’s missed him far more than he realized. Of course, this jubilation is kind of put on hold as Mario goes on a whole spiel about how Bowser can’t kidnap him. He has things to do! He was in the middle of a mission! It is then Bowser realizes Mario doesn’t KNOW. Bowser tries to calmly explain to him that he died. He brought him back. Mario doesn’t believe him because, why would he? Bowser tries to convince him while they fight through the castle, only for one point Bowser finds a reflective object or rips a mirror off a wall to show him. Mario stop mid-attack to look at himself in horror.

Step 5.) Bowser... what have you done? It’s a lot, maybe too much to the point Mario’s unable to keep himself together as he literally falls apart. It is later that Mario wakes up again, this time in a different room altogether. It’s a room with accommodations like bed, separate bathroom, closet, bookshelf. And so on. Mario remembers what happened before fading to black, and looks at his arms. In shock he goes to the bathroom and looks in the mirror to take himself in. What he sees is this:

He is alone as he tries to do his best to evaluate the situation. First thing he needs to somewhat feel like himself. He is immensely relieved when he sees the closet has his trademark outfit-- down to the gloves, shoes, and even a hat. Mario gets dressed just to see less of himself, as well as the fact he feels naked. I mean, the guy is all bones, not even skin to make him naked. But it’s the principle of it! Step 6.) At some point he is visited by Bowser and gets more information out of him. He finds out what happened to him, how long he’s been dead. His instinct is to go back to Luigi, to make sure he’s okay. But Bowser and Kamek are able to convince him that woah woah woah... Green Stache? He was hurt the most from all of this, maybe don’t go over there and traumatize the guy more? It’s actually sound logic, and that surprises Mario. Enough that he’s able to listen out what Bowser’s plan is. They brought him back from the dead, sure easy enough. They do it all the time. But they’ve never turned people back into full on flesh people before. But there are theories that it can be done. They’re working on trying to restore him fully so that everything can go back to normal.

Mario essentially ends up staying with Bowser as they’re trying to figure things out. He at least makes Bowser promise to have people watch Luigi so that he doesn’t get worse. And to keep an eye on the Mushroom Kingdom in general. But meanwhile it’s Mario just... hanging. Trying to make himself useful, asking to go on mission to find herbs and stuff that Kamek needs to restore him. Lots of bonding with Bowser. And through it Mario finally asks ‘why did you do all of this?’ Only for Bowser to tell him ‘because the thought of having to act like things were normal without you being around scared me’. Mario learns just how important they are to each other’s lives, and during the journey/event fall in love.

[fantasiesandfolklore]

open starter // muse: aislin // v: la memoire

"Believe me, you do not want to anger me," La Memoire warned the person standing opposite her. La Memoire was hurt, badly, but not by the person she warned. Fortunately, the two liches she'd created were protecting her and she healed rapidly.

Twisting one gloved hand at an unnatural angle, La Memoire summoned her two liches, their bodies fully healed and revived, their minds in tact, yet controlled by La Memoire until she put their souls back to rest. They gawked awkwardly at the person, yet were never the less intimidating.

"You are messing with powers you don't understand, you couldn't understand. Please get out of my way," she said politely, using her voice modifier again, her costume showing off her body with how tight it was, yet masking her identity extremely well.

"I don't wish to hurt you," she added, trying to calm down from the adrenaline rush from the fight she was still healing from.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My parents were discussing necromancy through PowerPoint.

[aikuse]

CRAWL HOME TO HER | 2,724 words (~21 minutes reading time). gn!reader, major character death, descriptions of universe-accurate deaths, accidental necromancy.

author’s notes: did not think i’d run into a kinktober piece given how i’m still getting my groove back, but there was one tumblr post i saw that just punted me into next week. so…here we are! enjoy. i haven’t written for this guy in a little while…i missed him <3 i'm taking a bit of a different vibe here with doing parts of a topic instead of one-shots! therefore, this will have a second part i'll release at some point this month. enjoy! -> taglist: @qichun @fuyuswifey @suyacho @stunies -> join the taglist!

it’s quiet. too quiet.

the fog that drifts over the city is thick, light rain speckling against the gravestones as you meander through the rows. some of the stones are barely readable, long forgotten from families who have since moved on. some are fresher, emblazoned with golden lettering, untouched by the weather. despite the rain, incense smoke hangs in the air, pungent scents of patchouli and dragon’s blood sharp in the lazy breeze.

your destination looms in front of you, the stench of freshly moved soil clinging to your nose as you settle down, your backpack landing lightly on the floor next to you. you pull out a packaged bento box, leaving it in your lap before lighting your own incense sticks. one is placed in front of an older gravestone, the next on the much newer stone beside it. the ground beneath the second stone is churned; there’s an incredibly faint stench of death from it, but you chalk it up to the bleary weather.

there are no words to share between you and the dead, but you begin to talk anyway.

“there was no funeral, you know.”

you stare at the name that’s emblazoned on the newer stone. the name HANMA SHUJI glares back at you. you continue.

“i knew you were involved in some shady shit, shuji, but…my god,” you say, sounding like a chiding mother as you shake your head, “i didn’t realize you were that stupid. getting yourself wrapped up with a crime syndicate? really?”

the words that leave your mouth are forcing a reaction from your chest. it’s tightening up, and angry tears prick at your eyes as you’re shot back into the past, only for a moment. you can feel the spring breeze drifting through your hair, a whisper of the sunshine tickling your face. you turn towards the main path, chopsticks frozen in your hand, as you watch two ghosts sprint through the yard.

one is tall, far too tall and gangly to be anyone else but shuji. he holds onto a much younger version of you’s hand, sly smile plastered across his face as he stumbles after you. your hand is tight around his own, fingers interlocking as you match his smile. your voice echoes across time; if you hadn’t been paying attention, you’d have missed it.

come on! we’re already late, and you know i hate taking this shortcut. it’s creepy!

shuji’s laugh sounds like a wind chime.

c’mon, doll, it ain’t that bad. you got me here, anyway. i’ll protect ya from the scary ghosts.

the spirits dissipate into the fog, gone as quickly as they came. like a dream.

you turn back to the stones. KISAKI TETTA stares back at you from the older stone, and you sigh, swallowing heavily. “and you,” you say, your voice shaking as you point your chopsticks at the offending name, “you knew better. you should have known better than all of us. you were smarter than all of us, and you went and got yourself flattened by a fucking supply truck. ridiculous.”

there’s wetness on your cheeks now, rage making the bento box in your lap unappetizing. you place it on the ground, crossing your arms over your chest. your jaw sets as you return your gaze to Shuji. your voice is so small for the anger that’s tearing through your muscles.

“you promised me you’d protect me. you promised.”

that’s the straw that breaks you. that stupid little comment he’d made so long ago, so long before you’d all gotten wrapped up in the horrors of what Kisaki’s plans had brought you all. you’d gotten out of it somehow, escaping his slimy clutches, but Shuji was not so lucky. he was too entranced, too addicted to the chase. it would’ve ended badly no matter what, for him.

the tears falling from your face drip into the soil as you bend over, your stomach twisting inside of your body. they mix in with the drizzle, soaking down into the dirt. you think nothing of it; why would you?

it’s just rain. it’s just tears. tears that have built up over years of frustration, of a reaction to a phone call you’d never have imagined you’d receive.

you can’t stay here. if you do you’re going to end up ripping both of their stones out and throwing them into the street. the bento box, uneaten, disappears into your bag, along with everything else. all that’s left behind of an indication that you visited is the incense burning in front of both stones.

as you go to open the gate, you could’ve sworn you heard something move. it sounded like digging, a scrabbling noise similar to a sound a rat makes as it crawls up a pipe. you turn around; but nothing is out of the ordinary behind you. all the stones are still where they should be, the dirt untouched.

“fucking ghosts.”

still…you can’t get rid of the feeling that someone is watching you as you walk home. your neck hairs feel like they’re standing up completely straight, no matter how many times you scratch that stretch of skin.

the relief you feel after getting inside your house is immeasurable.

the feeling stops.

the rain only gets worse as the day progresses.

you stay inside; you have off work today, so you make yourself a nice tea and settle into the couch with a good book you’ve been pushing off on finishing. you deserve a nice day to yourself; and a rainy day is a fantastic excuse to do so.

the night comes before you realize it, the street lamps turning on amongst the torrential downpour. it’s a mess out there, car engines muffled by the rain hammering on your roof. you trudge into the kitchen, an instant ramen packet making its way into a bowl and into the microwave. tonight was not the night to be making dinner; low effort food was better than no food, and you did still have the bento box.

the movie you put on drifts you to sleep, warm ramen and bento in your belly as your eyes slide shut. despite your mini-breakdown in the graveyard, you feel good that you went. you know shuji would have appreciated it, in his own little way. you can practically see his crooked smile behind your eyelids. a visit? for me? you shouldn’t have, doll. feelin’ pretty taken care of.

“fuck you,” you whisper as sleep finally claims you.

it doesn’t last for long.

a loud bang on the door forces you awake. your watch that you hold up to your face reads 03:00 AM in bright numbers, and you groggily wipe at your eyes. “the fuck?” you say to yourself, wondering how badly this person needs you to answer the door. you pause before getting up, waiting for another knock. maybe if you don’t make yourself known to be home, they’ll go away — none of your indoor lights are on to indicate you’re even home, barring the normal porch light. you can see a shadow against the wall, but nothing more.

the banging starts again, even louder this time, and you jump to your feet. adrenaline spikes through your veins, fear clutching at you as you pad towards the door. “my god, okay, okay!” you holler towards the door as your hand lands on the doorknob.

you don’t turn it, though. you’re frozen all of a sudden.

the doorknob’s golden cover is ice cold. like someone is chilling it from the outside.

something primal arises in you. it’s a flight response, you’ve felt it before so many times when you’d hang around kisaki and shuji. you know it so well, even after all these years. why now? your brain panics, neurons firing, colliding information around in your head as if your very self is going scorched earth. every alarm in your mind is going off, telling you to not open this fucking door.

what the fuck what the fuck what the f—

you yank it open anyway. it takes effort, more effort than you’re used to, but you do it anyway.

a beat passes as your eyes take in what’s been lurking and banging behind the wooden door, and then you’re screaming. a bloodcurdling scream, one that sounded as if its coming from a prey animal having been caught by a predator, calling for help. it sounds far away — you can feel your vocal chords moving, but the sound doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you.

a humanoid hand slams over your mouth, pushing you back inside. the door closes behind the intruder, and you just stand there, shaking, letting its hand pressure your mouth as if wanting it to shut you up. heaven knows you wouldn’t have been able to stop at the horror you see before you.

it’s shuji. and he is covered in dirt.

it sticks to his pale skin, bits falling onto your carpet. he stinks of death, brown soil and grass dirtying the remaining fabric of his three-piece striped suit. dried blood is caked all over him, only adding to the horrible smell that’s coming off of him.

your eyes move upwards.

his lips seem normal; not the undead purple that you’re used to seeing in your shitty zombie Halloween movies. in fact, he seems relatively intact despite being dead as the dirt that clings to his body from hours ago.

he’s even wearing circular glasses as you look up to meet his eyes, against every screeching nerve of your judgement.

his eyes are…normal.

well, they’re glowing, which is different.

but they’re the same gold and purple that you remember. one of his lenses is broken, cracks spiderwebbed across its surface. beyond that, the structure of the frames seems as though its kept up. the crack looks newer. one of his hands comes up to his face to push the glasses further up his nose — you don’t miss the dirt caked under his broken fingernails. they’re cracked in odd places, as if…

as if he clawed his way out of the grave you were just at.

your entire body is frozen. you can’t scream anymore even if you wanted to, and he seems to recognize that as he removes his large hand. his hands are clammy, but he says nothing. he looks almost as surprised as you are, but in a different way. there’s no fear in his eyes, not a single hint of it. you would know; you’ve seen him afraid a handful of times, but for some reason there’s nothing like that there.

there’s only a strong, intense look. the word that appears in your brain is devotion.

something finally clicks in your brain, and you can move again.

you take a step back.

he takes a step forward.

you take another step back.

he takes another step forward.

your hand, shaking so hard you can barely point at him, raises. your finger quivers.

“y-y-y-y-you’re s-supposed to be—”

for the first time since rising again, shuji speaks.

“dead?”

his voice is gravelly. harsh. like he hasn’t used it in a while — which you instantly scoff at, because yeah, of course he wouldn’t have used it in a while. he’s been dead for weeks!

“yes!” it comes out as a squeak, your pointer finger still jabbing at him. “what the fuck! what is this? is this a sick joke? who are you? why are you dressed up as my friend? why—”

he lurches forward, hand gripping onto your shoulder. his grip is more intense than it used to be, as if he’s trying to dig underneath your skin. dig, dig, dig. as if to root himself inside of you.

you should run, you know that. you should run to your room and lock the door and pray to every god that he goes away. you should run the few steps through the kitchen to grab one of your knives, even if killing him again won’t kill him forever since he clearly can’t just stay dead. there’s a glimmer of hope that he disappears with the night, like a bad dream. this is just a bad dream, a nightmare. just a nightmare, of course, why didn’t you—

“not a dream, doll. it’s me.”

did i say that out loud?

the pet name flips a switch, and where there was cold fear, warm rage floods through your veins. you push off his hand with more force than you think you have, and your palms plant on his chest, ready to shove him away.

your hands freeze against him, like you can’t move him. like he locks your hands in place simply by touching him. the tile beneath your bare feet actively battles against you.

“fuck you,” you spit at him, pressing against him, trying to move your hands as his eyes widen behind his glasses, “fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. i cannot believe you— what the fuck is this? what the fuck are you doing here? how dare you—”

a litany of curses falls from your mouth in a rainstorm, almost as terrifying as the storm echoing outside. thunder rumbles and cracks as your voice raises in tone, lightning flashing through the window. it lights up shuji’s face, and his expression has your hands curling into fists, beating his chest, slamming against the clammy skin.

“why?” you finally shriek. “why now? why would you torment me like this? do you know how long it took me to gather the courage to even bother visiting you and Tetta? do you understand how this fucked me up? how my first fucking boyfriend died in some dumb ass stand-off in a gang that you didn’t belong in when you should have just—fucking stayed with me? DO YOU?”

a final thunderclap shakes your apartment’s walls, as if the very gods are rioting against what’s happening in your kitchen. as if they disagree with the unspoken ritual that’s happened to bring shuji back. as if they are as angry as you are for seeing the man you loved since you were a child standing in your kitchen, dripping blood, dirt and viscera all over your white tile.

your voice dies in your throat, the last words you’d spoken echoing around the apartment. tears flood your cheeks, dripping onto the floor. shuji says nothing, eyes wide in surprise. he studies you, more than he used to; he was always so flippant, but now…it looks like he’s actually listening. like he can actually hear you for once.

he looks hurt.

“no.”

his answer is short. you feel like an egg cracked open now, arms falling uselessly by your sides as you stand there and cry in front of him, sobs tearing at your throat. “how could you?” you manage to get out, watching him through bleary eyes, more sobs falling from your lips. you let him move to you—

and his arms wrap around you.

his lips press against the shell of your ear as your sobs quiet into sniffles and hiccups.

“i’m so sorry. i’m so, so, so sorry, doll. so sorry.”

“you think an apology is gonna fix this?” you whisper wetly.

“no.”

“then why would you—”

“because even if you take or not, you still deserve one.”

you’ve been through so many emotions in the past minutes. it’s felt like a whirlwind. “i know, moron,” you hiccup, “but you haven’t answered me. why are you here?”

shuji moves away from you then. there’s color coming back into his cheeks, as if he’s warming up again just by standing in the heat of your home. the dirt has liquefied, rivulets dripping off of him and onto your floor, but you don’t care. you’re suddenly so tired, your legs shaking, but you need an answer. you need him to answer you—

“because of you. because you need me. because i love you.”

you blink. “y-you what?” you gasp out.

he repeats himself, like he’s reading out the ingredients on the back of a soup can. it feels so far away as your legs finally give out, the floor quickly speeding towards your vision. you don’t miss the feeling of him catching you, large (warmed) hands wrapped around your figure as you pass out. his declaration lingers, though, like a whisper as you let yourself slip into unconsciousness.

“i love you.”

divider credit: @/cafekitsune networks: @pixelcafe-network @themovingcastlez

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© togamest 2023-2024

[whereserpentswalk]

You're so lucky to have been brought back from the dead. Most necromancers would have given up on you entirely, most people are put in the grave with a lot more material left on them than you are. None of your body was still usable, but your soul was miraculously hanging on after your injuries. They were able to keep your ethereal self bound to this world, and make you a new body to possess.

Your new body is made of leather, and cloth, and rubber, and plastic and steel. It looks almost like a puppet of sorts. It's most human shaped, and with your soul inside of it it moves just like a human would. But all it has for a face is a gas mask, and hood to make it look a bit less bald. Where your eyes should be, those little glass fixtures, glow a deep red, perhaps as a reminder of something.

Everyone in your family is trying to be very casual. They don't expect any of it to phase you. Mabye they want to be seen as accepting but you don't know what they mean by that. They expect you to still go to all your college classes, expect you to still try and find work, to do all the things you're still technically able to do. They don't want you to spend time recovering, apparently it makes your family sad to see you "feeling sorry for yourself". And your father will always be the first to remind you that he's the one who payed to have you revived, he's the one who found one of the only necromancers in the city good enough to bring you back. It's like you owe them the child they once had. They didn't bring you back to watch you mourn. And your school and work understands less, you don't feel tired or in pain anymore, you have less on an excuse then ever.

You remember your death so well. It still feels so real, and so scary, it's supposed to have been nothing, supposed to have not mattered, but you can still feel it. And everything is so diffrent in this new body, your entire body feels diffrent, just the sensation of feeling metal bones, and the feeling of having cloth where you once had skin, of feeling hard plastic where your used to your face being. You miss sleep, miss food, miss sex, you even miss pain. It hurts to see people doing all these things that you can't, they took your bed out of your room, they said you needed more space now, and you can't sleep anyway. It was so casual. You should be appreciating this, you're alive after all? Everyone expects you to be so happy all the time, to constantly be in a good mood, to constantly be ok, and you're not, all they ever play in your living room is pop music, and that's not what you want to hear right now, it's not what you listen to alone. You can't smile more, you don't have a mouth.

There's a freind you made in a faerie studies course at college, who let you talk about this with him, he only knew you for a few weeks before you got your new body. It's weird, you're able to talk to even distant freinds about feeling sad or scared more than you can your family. He hugged you, it doesn't feel the same as it did in your old body but it meant something. You told you he's happy your alive, that it doesn't matter what you do, that it's a miracle that you're alive. He told you he wants you to be alive and to be happy. So few people tell you that, nobody in your family ever did. You're expected so much to appreciate the life other people gave you, but so few people want to appreciate that you're alive.

[astraphel]

[soggy-fishsticks]

guys what if during crisis core sephiroth gets turned into a half behemoth monster falin-style.

hey guys what if that happened

what if,what if hojo did that and that happened guys what then

[cherry-blossom-qf]

Taking the phrase "eat your heart out" to a new level ❤️🩸

Yes, this is how he expands his lifespan. He became a creature that eats people's hearts and other body parts to add years to his life (hence why he looks like a zombie). Not the best solution to the shortened lifespan that was given to him at birth, but it works!

But it's not enough for him. It'll never be enough. Because no matter how many people he eats, no matter how years gets added to his lifespan, the clock will always tick. He's just resting the timer.

He needs something more permanent. Hence why he's still researching. To find that permanent solution, for everyone.

AU INFO HERE

[stimming-puppet]

marcille donato 1/2/3/4/x/5/6/7/8

[neighbourhoodthree]

>you haven't seen paul for a little while

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Necromancy was real and you could do it by putting a metal statue of a frog into the taxidermied corpse of the dead person and then electrocuting the corpse.

[shysheeperz]

[entity56]

totally not projecting the horrifying feeling of 'being dead and rotting' and no longer having a soul onto an innocent OC nope no way no sir

[cherry-blossom-qf]

Here's my new Magolor AU!

Necromancy Magolor! 💛🩸

He has every disease! ^w^

Feel free to bully the ever loving shit out of this one!!

All AU info is in the pic!

[zapphattack]

Retrieval (Desparation)

"For when you've lost what is important and cannot bear to part with it."

The concept of resurrecting one of the other main characters has always interested me despite the impossibility.