#ts body horror

[charitydingle]

The Substance 2024, dir. Coralie Fargeat

[deostyx]

Mom and Pop

[tylernolbottle]

Heads up ;))

<version with blood below>

Redraw of this drawing I posted on my side account years ago

[gillionmeowstrider]

Weird night out :/

[skeletinmoss]

Ooo what about a Dukexiety fusion?

I'm really concerned for him. Those two are the mental health disaster. Doesn't have any eyes

Can you imagine them being brothers with Prinxiety? I sure can

[analoceits]

here is my insane all the sides are body horror agenda [obvious tw for gore/body-horror ish stuff - under the cut bc. descriptions of gore - no pictures]

logan: he is the only side with completely normal organs and body! completely. normal. down to the inch. he is a living medical textbook. you could take him apart and measure his organs exactly. he promises. hes Tested.

patton: he Looks normal on the outside, and mostly, he is! he looks like thomas mostly. but.. he doesnt really.. bother. with the inside stuff. it makes him squeamish. (logan xrayed him once- and said only one word after. "soup.")

roman: he doesnt let himself scar. no matter how large the wounds he gets are, his skin will be porcelain as always. as well, he looks the youngest out of all the sides. he has no wrinkles or beauty marks. his heartbeat is to the rhythm of whatever song hes listening too.

virgil: mostly fine, except.. whenever he has a panic attack. his rib cage will shift and lock around his lungs. his heart will beat absurdly fast (logan has record 900 bpm once). outside of that, he bleeds so easily - even if he just bites his nails. if patton hugs him too hard, and he gets nervous, his ribs will cave in.

janus: probably second weirdest. his body is always fighting itself, in between snake and human. he gets horrifically sick regularly; with the human half of his body rejecting the snake like a transplant, and vice versa. new scales will tear through his skin and make him bleed for hours. he will crave a mouse, eat it, and then throw it up.

remus: hes covered in scars. his organs are constantly being dissolved, reformed, fusing, and dissolving again. he can and will break all his bones on command. he can do wolverine claws. occasionally he'll get bored and just start. going through rigor mortis. for the bit.

[leidensygdom]

Artfight mods consider my profile picture to be the height of body horror :/ (has 7 eyes. apparently 6 is the maximum of eyes they allow. let's not talk about how the random character function is almost unusable because you will land into extreme untagged fetish characters every other roll, but hey, priorities)

[brainlicking]

All that glisters is not gold— —Gilded tombs do worms enfold

[triangle-strategy-notes]

The Hierophant and Automatons Concept Art

Concept art for the Hierophant and the other puppets/automatons you face in the final battle! Translation notes and image id under the cut.

Translation notes:

Japanese doesn't usually include gendered pronouns, so when I use "it" and/or "her" for the Hierophant, I'm inserting those based on my best guess given the context—it's not anything the designers intended to include.

The word I translate as puppet/doll/automaton is in most cases the same word, but I use the different English translations interchangeably depending on the context.

"Homunculus" on the first page is literally "nculus". I'm assuming it's shorthand for homunculus so that's what I put for clarity, but I might be wrong about that. On the second page, the actual word for homunculus is used explicitly.

"The threads are manufactured using a special growth process" seemed to have a typo or two. I tried to account for that and I think I got the translation more or less accurate, but I still feel a little bit uncertain about it. Notably there might be something about 2 strands being woven together.

"Do not defy" might have also been translated as "do not betray [me]".

Image Ids:

[Image id: Two pages from the Triangle Strategy artbook centered around the Hierophant and the automatons. The first page is titled, "C Hierophant (puppet) Rough Draft". There are several drawings of the hierophant and her doll-like construction. One note reads, "Sought after and made a human". Another reads, "A. Puppet — Ball-jointed doll". There is a subheading labeled, "B. Flesh" with some text that reads, "Even though it comes from a desert country, the skin is white and pure to the point that it looks bloodless." Another note reads, "Lifeless eyes" and another says "Do not defy". One note that points to the Hierophant's clothing says, "The garment is modeled after the Goddess of Salt's." Another reference drawing has the note, "The most complete one at the moment (Hierophant Puppet)". Another note says, "I call it 'homunculus', but it's in fact only an extraordinary puppet that has the appearance of being alive. That said, it was indeed given some human body parts during its creation… The human 'hair' is not only the doll's puppet strings, but also its internal parts, which enable the puppet to circulate magic efficiently and to manifest a level of power beyond that of a mere puppet." Another note gesturing to the puppet strings says, "The threads are manufactured using a special growth process." Another says, "Countless unfinished things." One drawing has the puppets attacking and grabbing onto a man with a sword. A nearby note reads, "If they get a hold of you, it's pretty dangerous!" An illustrator's note at the bottom reads, "The request for this included a surprise: 'the hierophant is a puppet!' I remember having a lot of back and forth about what puppets are in the context of the world, and Mr. Ikushima's ideas concerning the setting also helped. (Yasuaki Arai)".

The second page has several images, including one large one of a smoky purple room with automatons crawling down from the ceiling with Idore in the center pulling the strings. To the side there is another illustration of the puppets hanging up near the throne room's domed ceiling. At the top is a note that says, "From a distance, it looks like there is a painting on the ceiling, but in fact there are count- less unfinished puppets hanging in the shadows, and the puppeteer can control them all at once to attack." Another nearby note reads, "In the shadow of heaven, countless unfinished puppets are hanging." Next to Idore is the note, "His Excellency, The Puller of Strings. Controls countless homunculi at the same time and causes them to attack. Similar to spellcraft, it is a highly refined technique." There are some additional drawings of the automatons and hierophants showing some of their more inhuman traits, as well as some conceptual drawings of internal organs including a brain. A note reads, "If they really are just puppets, then there's no need to bother with brains or internal organs." At the bottom is a designer's note that reads, "This is a rough idea of the final boss Idore, the Hierophant, and the other puppets. I believe we also make good use of Mr. Ikushima's ideas in the battle planning. (Arai Yasuaki)" /end id]

[canvas-the-florist]

The Imitation Game

Ship(s): Analogical

Warnings: Major Character Death and Undeath, body horror, blood and injury, unreliable narrator, misunderstandings, and morally ambiguous Emile Picani

Summary: This is a Big Bang fic hosted by @tss-storytime. After the consequences of someone else’s actions, Logan finds himself moving into a new apartment to lie low. Despite knowing nothing about what happened, or what’s supposed to happen next, Logan complies. That is, until he begins to make new friends and new discoveries about who he is. And who he was supposed to be. Meanwhile Virgil is convinced that Patton's new neighbor is absolutely a murderer. And will do anything to prove it. If you like this fic, I'm going to be posting the rest of the story on ao3. Here's the link.

Art was done by @tastic-in-its-finest and you can find it here!

Word Count: (for this chapter) 3k

Chapter One - Lungs

The first feeling, or experience rather, Logan has is unbridled anguish. He doesn’t remember much of it. His body gives him a sharp spike of electricity when he moves his neck, clearly as a result of what occurred. The shaking of their palms when they were made to look someone in the eyes. A fear he couldn’t place the origin of. Logan’s body felt wrong to exist in. It felt wrong to be there at all. His body feels as if it was dismantled and reattached slightly differently. Functional, but not the same. Logan had begun adjusting to the changes far quicker than his muscle memory could. It hurt to stand too long, a pain coming from his spine would trail its way to his legs, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Logan was reminded of this fact when one of their knees locked, and he forced himself to fall to the side so he could catch himself. His entire weight supported by one leg and his hands on the edges of the kitchen counter. Logan slowly led himself to sit on his couch, easing himself into a lying position. He took a slow, deep breath.

Breathing is a difficult sensation to get used to. It’s supposed to be constant, quiet, and easy. And yet it’s so integral to survival. Especially for a being with lungs. You have to breathe in oxygen, and out carbon dioxide. A consistent transfer of elements with your body holding the key to change. If you hold your breath, the carbon dioxide holds a heavy space in your lungs, poisoning the rest of your organs. If you breathe too quickly, risk tiring yourself out, and accomplishing nothing by speeding up the endless repetition. Both can lead to fainting or passing out. What a fickle way to live, to survive. 

So imagine Logan’s surprise that everyone around him could do this without thinking. This was normal. And he was not. Now was their chance to be just like the others, with working lungs, a working body, and a working heart. It wasn’t pleasant to feel constant changes within himself in a manner he couldn’t control. Nothing could truly be perfectly measured or predicted or controlled. Logan pressed his left thumb pad against his right index finger, cradling the right hand softly, and felt the small ridges of fingerprints conflict with their paths next to each other. This was one of the new sensations they didn’t mind. He did this while reminding himself to breathe, concerned that his judgment would lapse and he would simply die too early on in his existence. Logan thought about feeling, and if he had enough time to get used to the stimulus he didn’t used to have access to. A sudden flash of pain went past his neck, causing him to suddenly tilt his head to the left. He exhaled loudly, with a shudder, to keep his composure. Logan didn’t know a lot about social conventions but screaming every time he felt an ounce of discomfort definitely did not fit that criteria. However, he was new to the apartment complex, so perhaps that was actually acceptable and he would have to discover that later. 

Logan wanted to get this all under control within the next ten minutes, though he wasn’t accurately able to tell how long he had been laying down when the static that seemed to follow him blocked his vision. Breathing was still difficult. Still present. A reminder that they were failing their objective already. That this wasn’t going to plan. He was going to die on day one. Despite the severity of everything Logan felt (he FELT things now), he wasn’t allowed to give up. That was explicitly against the rules. 

With the overpowered conviction of doing what he was told, Logan laid on the couch silently. A pain in his lungs, a throbbing in his head. Well, technically the pain was coming from his nerves sending signals to his… brain. Logan frowned, almost pulled from the sensation of his lungs being crushed by a hydraulic press by the reminder. His brain. Logan still didn’t fully understand how he worked, even if he knew the components that made him up. They desperately wanted to. Just to know. Logan enjoyed learning. He didn’t know a lot about himself, but he knew that. Logan wanted to learn.

He pressed the palms of his hands against his closed eyes, somehow that specific type of pressure alleviated the pain. There was a knock on his door after a few minutes. It was his first day living in this apartment. Logan was told to expect greetings from neighbors, in some regard. But this felt overwhelming still. 

Logan ignored them.

The next day was filled with duller pain, but still ever present. His neck creaked loudly as he tilted his head from side to side. Logan had to leave the apartment today. This was something he always knew he had to do, but didn’t know if he wanted to. Well, he did know. He absolutely wanted to stay hidden away from the world for the rest of time. But… Logan turned on his phone, to reread the message he had gotten. Emile wanted to see him, and they were going to meet up at a café. His text was… long and hard to parse through. Even though Logan had trouble discerning tone a majority of the time, they got the sense that Emile was more excited about this than Logan would be able to be. After looking at themself in the mirror for entirely too long, washing the dried blood from his neck, and getting dressed, he left the apartment. Logan struggled locking the door, having to try about six times, and just hoped that no one would notice long enough for him to appear normal. 

He was on the second floor, defined by a walled off balcony wrapping around the exterior of the building to connect each apartment to a shared space. Logan was about to reach the stairs down when a man walked into him. Or perhaps it was his fault, it was hard to tell really. Logan stepped back, almost affronted by the contact. The person was tall, with thin and long box braids wrapped in a bun. He had rectangle glasses with rounded edges and a smile on his face. It made Logan instantly uncomfortable looking anywhere near his eyes, so they looked away.

“Howdy!” … What? The man continued. “Sorry for bumping into you, that’s my bad. You’re the one who just moved in right? What’s your name?”

This was possibly worse than everything Logan had ever experienced. He wasn’t entirely sure how high (metaphorically) that bar was, but it was probably significant. Logan didn’t respond for a few awkwardly silent seconds. They coughed, preparing his throat to speak. “I’m… I did just move in, yes. My name is Logan. Logan Clay.” Was he doing this right? How were you supposed to tell? The man was still looking at him like he expected something. Logan went through all they remembered from practicing. Oh! Right… “What’s your name?”

“The name’s Patton Nasir, neighbor!” He reached out his hand, looking… concerned(?) when Logan instinctively flinched away. Patton quickly retracted his hand before Logan even said anything about it, placing it gracefully on his hip. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Logan! I live just next door. 214. So if you need help with anything, I’m always there for you.”

Was this genuine? Was there a way to tell? Logan just nodded. “Thank you, Patton. I’ll be sure to contact you if such a situation arises. I have to go now.”

Patton laughed. Logan just stared slightly to the left of his face, almost simulating true eye contact with his neighbor. “Of course, I didn’t mean to keep you, buddy. I hope you have a good day!”

He waved and walked past Logan, who just stood there as the conversation left the air, reminding themself to breathe. His neck still hurt, as if his splenius capitis would burn whenever he moved his head. Logan shook his head, despite knowing the action only exacerbated the pain. Logan finally got to continue walking to meet Emile, walking down the concrete stairs with a sense of urgency. He made sure to look at the directions on his phone so he wouldn’t get lost. Perhaps he looked at them a little too frequently. It took just about ten minutes and forty three seconds to reach the café. A local establishment with a patio that contained three tables. Two of those three had striped umbrellas over them. 

Emile was sitting at the table holding a disposable cup with a lid, presumably filled with coffee. It was as much of a relief as a great anxiety to finally see him. Logan walked up to the table with a sense of urgency that wasn’t shared with their companion. Emile smiled easily, his scrunched nose lightly displacing his glasses. 

“Hello, Logan! Do you how do?” He greeted.

If this were any other individual, Logan would be concerned at the nonsensical manner he held himself with. But this was Dr. Emile Picani, the only person he truly knew. The only person who knew… Logan. Himself. Logan nodded. “I’m doing adequate, Emile. Should I… order something too?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” Emile responded simply. “Did you have breakfast yet?”

Logan froze. He did a mental check of his body. His neck screaming (metaphorically), his hands still shaking, his stomach… People were supposed to eat regularly. He knew that. Logan was told that, and they knew that they had to do that too. Fuck. “I have not had breakfast yet.”

Somehow, Emile could read his tone, even when Logan himself could not. He frowned. “Logan… have you eaten anything since you left the hospital yesterday?”

“I drank water.” He supplied, as if that was a perfect substitute.

Emile stood up, the metal chair screeched loudly, and suddenly Logan had to resist the urge to drag his nails through the skin of his ears. “Let’s get you some coffee.”

Who was Logan to disobey? Emile ordered for him, and assured him of what he had gotten. Black coffee and a simple sandwich. They sat back down together. Logan drank the bitter drink, but mostly because it was expected of them. Despite the casual setting, the public atmosphere, this was a meeting. Logan knew that. Emile was acting like this because Logan didn’t know how to act yet. He appreciated it immensely. Logan started eating the sandwich, with dry bread and bland ingredients. 

“I’m glad you liked it. You… You used to order this same thing every morning.” Emile looked down, with a smile, but Logan didn’t think he was actually happy. “Anyways! Have you made any new friends yet or unpacked yet?”

Logan swallowed his food, setting his sandwich back down. He felt all the different components of his neck conflict with one another, reminding him of the constant searing pain that had incapacitated him the day before. A pain that wasn’t supposed to be there. “No, I haven’t. I thought… I was supposed to keep a low profile?”

It came out like a question, because he felt as though Emile’s questions contradicted the prior instructions he had given. Keep a low profile. Keep the secrets. Stay hidden. Were they intended to balance those objectives with a social life? Interior design? Logan reminded himself to breathe at a consistent pace. That was a lot of rules to uphold all at once, but he could do it. Emile expected them to, and they wouldn’t want to let him down. Not after all he had done for them. Emile just looked confused, similar to how Logan… felt. Hm.

“Logan, I don’t want to keep you from making new connections!” Emile exclaimed, his voice filled with a worry Logan didn’t understand. “Besides, an empty apartment and a lone hermit is… a little more suspicious than, say, hiding in plain sight like Constantine from Muppets Most Wanted.”

He gave back a blank stare. 

“Yeah… I don’t think you’ve ever seen that movie, even before everything.” Emile admitted. “I just mean: it’s going to be better for everyone if you settle down a little bit more, and nurture new friendships with your neighbors. You need to establish friendships and trust or… Or none of this is going to work. Or at least try! If nothing works out, you’ll still be meeting with me here every week! We can figure stuff out.”

It was reassuring, knowing that he wasn’t alone. Logan didn’t really know much about what to do or what he should be like. But Emile did. He really needed the guidance. “Thank you, Emile. I appreciate that. I will… ‘settle down’, when I am able.”

His friend smiled at him, with a type of pride Logan didn’t feel. He was mostly scared of what was going to happen to him. Emile smiled at him like everything was already going perfectly. It wasn’t exactly lying, but it was optimistic. Even though it was confirmation that the two were in this together, Logan still felt uncomfortable.

Emile left first, having the obligations of a job. He was working part time at a lab while he worked on his psychology degree. Logan… had a job. It was more freelance. They didn’t start until the next day. Logan collected the leftover dishes and trash, walking back inside to put them where they belonged. The plates went on a stack of other dishes also used that day, while the trash went into the nearest trash receptacle. He looked around, as if someone was there to tell him he did a good job. The only person there was a barista with sunglasses on scrolling on vaer phone with minimal interest. Vaey looked up at Logan, raising an eyebrow. Logan felt uncomfortable instantly and decided to leave. 

They spent the rest of the day organizing their new living space. The boxes didn’t contain a whole lot. Emile told him that he would have to go shopping on his own to accommodate anything that was missing. Logan suspected that Emile got him a job for that exact reason. So they could be more self-sufficient. Ironic, that Logan wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him. Logan thought this over while figuring out where to put their skillets and pans. He eventually took a break to eat, something he was determined not to forget again. Logan hadn’t cooked much before so settled for an oatmeal mix that Emile had packed him. They were not a big fan of the flavor. They ate it anyway. Logan had finished washing the two dishes he had used when someone had knocked on the door. His headache, well all of his aches really, were still bothering him profusely. But he was supposed to make connections right? 

Patton was holding a ziploc bag when Logan opened the door. The man was smiling, as if it was his default expression. He held it out to them. “I meant to give these to you yesterday, but… I’m giving them to you now! They’re chocolate chip cookies so I can take them back if you’re gluten free or allergic to chocolate or-”

He was just as nervous as Logan was. It didn’t seem to click until that moment. Logan took the back from his hands and looked up at Patton. “Thank you, for welcoming me to the neighborhood. You seem like a kind person, Patton.”

They didn’t really intend to cut off whatever Patton was talking about, but he didn’t particularly seem to mind. “Of course, thank you for the compliment! We’re going to start a whole chain of ‘thank you’s if we keep this up. I can’t wait to get to know you.”

Patton left after that, but what he had said ringed in Logan’s ears. 

I can’t wait to get to know you.

He repeated this as he got dressed for bed. He repeated it as he brushed his teeth. As he stared into the mirror for too long. As they put their glasses on the box they were using as a nightstand. Logan couldn’t wait to know himself too. They reminded themself to breathe, and continued to do so until it became even again. I can’t wait to get to know you. What a polite, kind thing to say to a stranger. 

Logan took a long deep breath in as he dug his fingers into the back of his neck. He gagged, feeling himself breathe heavier and faster. The skin between his spine and skull shifted to make room for the change. They searched around the blood and nerves, until latching to a specific cord. It resisted his grasp as Logan repressed the urge to flail. Clawing, clawing, clawing. He pulled the cord out slowly, feeling it rake against his organic matter. It collected blood as the end finally surfaced. Logan took a heavy breath, letting himself collapse forwards. A second was needed to catch his breath, to calm themself down. He wiped the blood off the cap protecting the end, before taking it off. Logan then plugged the cord into the glowing box underneath his bed. They felt the jolt of electricity enter their body as the cord began glowing a soft orange that mirrored the box.

Laying on their side, facing away from the box, was the only comfortable way to sleep. Not that they imagined they would do much of that. Despite trying, Logan didn’t feel fully human. Because he wasn’t, not really. Not like Emile, not like Patton. But he did wonder. Would this ever stop hurting? Would he ever stop hurting? Being a human was constantly being in pain. At least, that’s what it seemed like. Logan attempted to halt their thinking as they ignored the heat emanating from their neck, and the frantic breaths drawn for their lungs.

AO3 Link Here!

Taglist: @amateurmasksmith @phoenixtfc @snowynb @hydrastefishere @part-time-zombie @blueberryraccon

[confusedasever]

Imagine feeling your body start to rot and decay while you are helpless to stop it. Unable to breathe or move as you watch the last bits of your sanity melt away into delightful compliance.

Wonderlust (name is up for change) is a puppet, a host for the greater will. No longer a vessel for creativity he instead is now a mimic of what The Righteous wants him to be and he loves every second of it. He’s the scout and the knight of the Light sides. Willing to do anything his family asks of him. What a wonderful protective brother he is How much Roman is left in this slowly turning to wood body is truly a mystery although his ever constant black tears are a reminder that this puppet once was a real boy.

Wonderlust is ready for ascension, ready to leave the plane his corrupted body resides in and go fourth to truly help the world be like The Righteous wishes it to be. He wants the world to be in The Righteous’s image.

Often spotted playing with brother or looking for the dark sides you’ll hear him long before you see him. The loud wooden noises and loud painful groans that accompany him whenever he is moved around is truly a musical experience to behold

I truly think Roman would be horrified filled with wonder seeing what he had become.

(That’s the lights side completed next will be Janus of Logan depending on which redesign I get inspiration for first. The details on this piece are my favourite. While he didn’t get much of a redesign he did get a lot of new details. Such as the thorns barbed wire and chains that replace his gold trim. Btw those were a pain to draw I am filled with regret.

Any questions are gladly appreciated. I love this au so much)

[randomnerd737]

headcannon that when Logan was like 13 he decided to take his eyes out to study them and he figured that because he wasn't real it wouldn't matter and he would be fine. he did manage to get them out safely, but he had trouble getting them back in. it also didn't help that he was Logic, so he had to follow the laws of physics. Remus had to help him out at some point. (Roman was too busy running away screaming bc his friend has NO EYES) anyway he managed to get them back in, but in the process he messed up his vision and the only way to fix it would be to take his eyes out again and risk further damage. wearing contacts would be a pain, and glasses matched his aesthetic so he just wore glasses.

[glacierruler]

Web Virgil

This was so fun to draw!

If you like please reblog!

@cutebisexualmess @lickoutyourbrains @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

@ruined-sketchbook (<- wasn't sure if I should tag you or not, since you're the reason I've been thinking of the sides as avatars.)

[carp-from-space]

I'm thinking about her.

You know. Her.

One that shown us the way to Seaspring.

Her

[oatmealdaydreams]

Horror Idea - Janus

[Warning for body horror; not shown, just described]

So, been thinkin' about @/soysaucevictim horror AUs. An idea came in mind for Janus.

What if Janus' scales were mini snake-like, yellowish eyes? Just a bunch of tiny eyes scattered on half of his body like a virus or infection? Ones which look like golden, shiny scales when they're closed, but looks absolutely horrifying when open?

Anyway, just had a thought.

Pls tag me if any of ya do anything with this :3

[moonstonemoonlight]

A drawing I did based on my fic Between City Streets for the hurt/comfort exchange!

Been a while since I drew the Toy Soldier I forgot how much I love it

(last normal post for a while as I’m starting artfight)