the mortician.

( in a sense, i'm the one that ruined me — i did it myself. )

[magnamedicina]

" I DESIRE VIOLENTLY ⸻ AND I WAIT. "

independent oc roleplay blog for ( CAIN * ) ⸻ a fandomless oc inspired by h. p. lovecraft's " herbert west - reanimator " . this blog explores themes of ... death, grief, violence, medical gore, mortuary practices &. other similar topics. caution is advised. a work by 𝐦agister ( 21+, it/they ) ; blog is 18+ for darker topics & adult themes. masterlist.

[mercifangs]

There is some sort of sick satisfaction to be gained from the sight of the other woman squirming beneath her golden gaze. The congeniality and etiquette onto which she grips are so often at odds with more basal instincts.

Attempting to soften the intensity of her stare seem to be futile; she may as well bask in it. A feline smile stretches across her lips, the ruby shade concealing ivory blades beneath.

" You make a lot of assumptions, miss. "

The only indication of her disappointment is the soft tone of her words. Her head tilts, and with it copper curls sway to one side of her face. Her very survival depended on assumptions made in good faith. This lovely woman could not possibly be of any harm, or this kindness will not come at a price.

" How do I strike you, then? What would you guess my occupation to be? " If she is to be presumptuous, Clemency will make a game of it. Playfulness flickers behind her eyes. " What of my origins? You know of my death now, what do you imagine of my life?"

[magnamedicina]

ㅤwhatever feeling of ease that she might have felt retreats almost as soon as it settled, the barrage of questions making her heart race. she doesn't know clemency much at all, what kind of assuptions can she even make ? rather, what kind of assumptions does she have that might not sound rude if she uses the wrong tone, the wrong words ? ㅤcain gulps quietly, eyes downcast as she tries to make sense of the words that keep being drowned out by her heartbeat. ㅤ" i... i wouldn't want to assume. " she begins, clears her throat. " you have made your point, yes ? that i make a lot of assumptions ? i will not do it again. " ㅤthere is a nervous chuckle. ㅤ" i sincerely apologise, miss clemency... it was not my intent to offend. "

[magnamedicina]

i will. do something today. if i don't you can blow me up with comically sized bombs okay

[magnamedicina]

sorry ill. answer things soon i don't remember the last time i felt like a person

[laterkiss]

i have this deadly sickness called remembering

[deathgasmic]

who else is up permanently feeling like they did something Wrong

[kosmogrl]

sorry I can’t hang out tonight. yeah I’m busy freaking out over things that might not even happen. yeah it’s gonna take a while

[mercifangs]

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥, 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡-𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬.

#𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰 ― in the northwest of england, past a forest with winding paths and thorny vines, there lies an old stone manor. legend suggests that it is haunted, occupied by the ghosts of the noble family slain there. gas lamps glow and classical music rings out to the edge of the property; some even claim to have seen a woman with long curls dressed in a gown through ivy-covered windows.  others speak of the ruthlessness of the forest, that those that enter never leave. occasionally victims are found, drained of their blood and flesh rent asunder by tooth or by claw. the police claim some terrible accident, some escaped exotic animal. it has been centuries since any townsfolk dare to voice the possibility, the truth… it was a 𝑽𝑨𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬. clemency payne has walked this earth for six hundred years. she has rubbed elbows with french nobles, attended italian operas, and admired french ballet. she socializes with vampires and humans alike, fascinating them with her strange charm and wisdom far beyond the means of her physical age. she spends moonlit hours painting, composing, writing, creating art and music to make sense of all that she has seen. she craves the release of death, yet it evades her, yet she rallies against it each time a slayer crashes through her door.

   ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅   an independent and selective roleplaying blog for 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄, an original character. blog is 18+ for mature and dark themes.  written lovingly by MARLOWE (21+, any prns). ― LAW . LORE . 

[debutafin]

ㅤ "i know what you mean." her voice low, chantasia watches the mortician's eyes as she reaches for her other hand, pressing both between her palms. squeezing her fingers. rubbing her hands. it's a unconventional romantic gesture, one that's not romantic in the slightest. "but it's a matter of the heart, dr. maddox. humans are social creatures. when we are sequestered away in a little white room, it's natural to long for some company. i think you make very nice company."

ㅤ cain makes chantasia laugh with her last thought. "i can't remember my address either! i assumed you had it somewhere in my file⸻ surely it's not hard for you to obtain." she's confident she could point out the apartment building if someone showed her a picture. the arrival of her friend could not come soon enough; chantasia has so many questions with answers that feel so close. hidden in plain sight.

ㅤ she looks back up at cain, shaking her hair behind her shoulders. "you could visit me at home. you can come watch me dance or listen to me sing."

ㅤ that much she remembers. lyrics written into her marrow, routines in her tendons. it must be the important part.

[magnamedicina]

ㅤher own heartbeat thunders so loud in her ears that she has a hard time hearing whatever chantasia is saying to her. don't get her wrong, it's not that she's trying to be obtuse on purpose, but she feels very compelled to just ask her to slow down — ro repeat what she just said as cain hasn't caught hardly a word of it. she doesn't, of course. instead she attempts to at least look her in the face for once. ㅤand when chantasia laughs ? those green eyes dart away yet again, embarrassed, cowardly. what could she possibly do but that ? when she knows for a fact that for once her face holds some semblance of colour ? ㅤ" i... i might have it on file, yes. " she clears her throat. " s-silly me. " ㅤsilly her indeed. she's acting a fool AND looking a fool. still, she doesn't pull her hand from between chantasia's. at one point, she might as well have forgotten that it's even there. ㅤ" i have seen you sing and dance here. " she recalls, quietly mulls it over. " maybe... maybe it's like the birds, right ? more beautiful in their own habitat ? "

ㅤ... what is she even saying ?

[debutafin]

ㅤ "dr. maddox, it's my throat that's injured, not my knees." she casts a glance toward her briefcase, its interior & corners⸻ largely without scratches. it's professional, it's neat, her papers not so. lots of papers are fickle, it's hard to keep them contained unless they're bound.

ㅤ chantasia leans back against the table beside cain, audience to cain as she fumbles with her papers, fingers stiff. there's luxury in this moment. chantasia's well enough to be on her feet, cain is patient enough to slow her roll. gentle fingers touch the inside of cain's elbow, smooth down her forearm to reach her hand.

ㅤ "thanks to you, i'm feeling much better. i get so lonely without you to check up on me." her fingers curl around cain's. guide her hand away from the papers for just a second so chantasia can press her hand between warm palms. stiff because of the cold⸻  maybe she washed her hands with cold water, maybe the mortuary is far colder than her room.

ㅤ "will you find some time to visit me once i'm discharged?"

[magnamedicina]

ㅤ" well, i... " ㅤher words die in her throat as she looks back down, once she noticed the doe - like eyes staring back up at her from chantasia's place on the floor. it's not the first time that she's been rendered speechless by this woman, and she certainly doesn't think that it will be the last. especially not if she keeps doing stuff like this. ㅤcain almost feels herself jump at the first touch of a warm hand. ㅤ" i - i... i can check up on you more often, if you would like ? are you feeling ill ? or... or in pain ? perhaps... " she cuts herself off. gulps once her mouth feels excessively dry. " perhaps... well, you know what i mean, surely ? " ㅤshe likely does not, for her sentence has hardly made a lick of sense. cain's face surely must be much warmer than her hands by now. she hopes that it doesn't show too much. maybe if she hopes hard enough the blush won't spread far enough. but also, maybe that is all just wishful thinking. ㅤ" ... i don't know where you live. " ㅤgreat going, cain. very impressive charm you got going there.

[magnamedicina]

ㅤit's like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders once she stops feeling that very gaze bore holes into her. it's almost like cain can finally breathe easy... or easier at the very least, now that she does not feel scrutinized for at least a moment. part of her wonders if this is what a caged animal feels like when people gawk day in and day out. ㅤ" well, no. that i wouldn't say. " she clears her throat, folds her hands behind her back as per usual. " it is just concerning for most people when someone that looks healthy at the very least claims to know how they will die. "

ㅤof course, because when someone has a kind of illness, people grow to expect that one day they will be given the bad news, that they will now have a time frame to expect to be gone by... like they suddenly have gained shelf - life, like a packet of crisps in a supermarket alley. ㅤcain's brows furrow. that's not a great analogy, is it ? ㅤ" it does not bother me particularly. " although the fighters' souls tend to be the one that fling her around the most. " like a lot of things with my line of work, as time goes on you stop feeling queasy about it. "

[mercifangs]

The mercy of an averted gaze is one that Clemency may only afford to others for moments at a time. When she returns her attention to the other, it is with a softer look. A small attempt to be less intense, less unsettling. More doe-eyed, less hawklike.

There is only so much she can do. Their conversation is no less provocative, even as the finger threatens to turn towards her, and she does not appear any less fascinated by such a taboo subject.

" I understand how it may be disturbing. Please know that my intention was not to cause concern, but rather to make conversation. " Perhaps she ought to spend more time with those that fear death. It seems she is losing her touch with the living. She attempts a demure smile, dissonant when paired with her words.

" You are familiar with divination, yes? Although I will live a long life, it will come to an end swiftly and certainly. I have been told as much several times. That is what is in the cards for me, so to speak, so I will play the hand I am dealt. "

It is the truth but not the complete truth. That will have to do, for now. Clemency tilts her head in consideration.

" It is as you said, is it not? Death is promised to you. There is no sense in fearing it, or in turning your back from it. There is no harm in knowing what form it will take when it comes. "

[magnamedicina]

ㅤgreen eyes snap back to clemency's face briefly as she checks to see if the other is still looking. she is, of course, prompting cain to yet again find something else to concern herself with. there is no use to be staring back so intensely... even if the other woman doesn't seem half as shy as cain does whenever she's the sole subject of her attention. ㅤ" ... conversation. well, do forgive me, it is not often that people pick this kind of conversation topic. i merely assumed. " ㅤshe clears her throat quietly, leather gloves softly creaking once she clenches her fingers tighter. this really isn't the type of conversation that she thought that she would be having when she got out of bed today, but alas. it's not the worst thing in the world, is it ? ㅤ" i suppose not. still, it is not every day that someone says it so freely. neither is it a common thing to dwell on for the average person. you don't strike me as someone that works with death often, but i may just be assuming wrong. "

[coiledqueen]

"...cain, cain, cain," the pike queen murmurs to herself, testing out the name and finding it agreeable on her lips. with the safeguard of the basin now perched upon her lap, lucy's nausea retreats to the pleasant, drunken buzzing behind her temples. she stretches out her long legs casually, and one of her heels falls from her foot as she makes herself comfortable. languid, like a serpent. lounging properly.

"well, cain...you can call me lucy. I'm a pretty good pokemon trainer," she volunteers with a smirk, playfully, intentionally vague. here they were, two strangers feeling each other out in the dark--of course lucy would make a sport out of it. she turns her head back to fix cain with that gleaming gaze, waving a dismissive hand. "...but see. trainers are a dime a dozen. they all get their first pokemon, went to some sort of trainer school, and they end up in big cities like these with equally big dreams. it's all the same predictable stories with us."

the last vestiges of alcohol makes lucy talkative, more animated. she can't help herself. she props her chin on her knuckles, tilting her head with a cheeky little grin.

"...but you? you're the first mortician I've ever met, and an interesting one at that. what's your origin story, cain? is it a sense of duty, upholding some family business, or is it some... I don't know, fascination with death or whatever? your profession isn't exactly common, you know?"

lucy laughs, blowing some stray messy locks from her eye, her gaze lingering on cain with a glimmer of fondness. "...of course, you don't have to answer, I guess. I can just shut up and drink my tea...but I'm hoping you'll indulge me a little. talking is a good distraction."

[magnamedicina]

ㅤshe can hear quite well despite it all, to the point that she almost believes that lucy might just wear out her name before they even have a proper conversation. cain is a name like any other, she doesn't see the need to test it out so much... perhaps this region has a variant of it ? she doesn't know, never bothered to ask. she doesn't think she has seen it come up in an obituary yet, either. maybe one day. and then she will know if her name sounds weird to people local to the area. ㅤhead turns slightly at the sound of a dull thud — the heel that has just fallen on the old, wooden floor. ... she was brawling in heels ? drunk, brawling, and on top of that wearing heels... cain's brows furrow. that doesn't feel too responsible now, does it ? again, she doesn't mention it. lucy is, by all accounts, mostly alive, and that is indeed what matters in the end. ㅤ" very well, lucy it is. the pleasure is all mine. " she begins, attending to the now whistling kettle. " while yes, you could say that there are many trainers, every and each one of them has their own story. as do you, and as do i. " ㅤcain hasn't been the talkative sort in ages. after all, what kind of conversation can one have when you're mostly surrounded by dead bodies ? ' oh, excuse me madam, you seem to have some fungi spreading on your face ' or even ' sir, im sure your bath was lovely, so lovely that you ended up dying in it, but now your skin is sliding off and making a mess of my floor ' aren't exactly the nicest conversation topics around, are they ? ㅤ" i am very well aware that being a mortician is not common, even if it a certainty that once you are born you will surely die some day. it's a necessary job, someone has to do it. " there is a pause as she places the teacup in a table near lucy, should she fancy a drink. " my family has been in the business for centuries, back in galar. i am simply continuing on with the tradition. it's really not that grand of a story, all things considered. " ㅤshe pauses at the sight of an orange flame, before a green chandelure peeks in from the door.

ㅤ" ah, maybe you haven't been acquainted yet. this is trocar, he is very often seen around the mortuary. every maddox ends up with a chandelure at some point... it's almost an unnoficial tradition. "

[magnamedicina]

currently in italy... maybe i can crack some replies on sunday when i come back

[magnamedicina]

loooove explaining r1999 lore heart

[loveridden1999]

[crownmemes]

Supernatural & Paranormal Sentences, Vol. 16

(Sentences from various sources for muses exploring the unexplained. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"It's starting again, isn't it?"

"What would you do if I became a ghost?"

"Exorcism is my job, but the vast majority if cases to which I am assigned do not require an exorcism."

"This can't be happening. I must be hallucinating."

"You think I'm losing it, but you have no idea what it's like to know the truth and not have anyone believe you."

"Things here feel different now. They feel wrong."

"I don't know what it is, but there's a logical explanation for this! Everything has a logical explanation!"

"Are there ghosts here?"

"Whatever you believe to be true, assume it isn't and search for the truth."

"This really freaks me out!"

"Some of the things you have told me sound like wonders, yet you yourself do not seem to wonder at them."

"So, what you are saying is that evil does not exist?"

"You've been reading too many conspiracy novels!"

"Is that real? I thought I might have hallucinated it."

"Don't go chasing the dead, or else the dead will go chase after you."

"Why were we never taught that trolls actually existed?"

"What do you know about demons?"

"If it can bleed, we can kill it."

"Do you see something behind me?"

"Do you believe in things we can't explain?"

"I want you to quiet down, hear me out, and listen to a little logic and reason!"

"I know that you think I'm delusional, but I'm not!"

"You can see that too, right?"

"Are you real?"

"Yesterday you didn't believe me. What changed?"

"Have you noticed how there's barely anyone here older than 17 and younger than 30?"

"What was that? The noise and the light?"

"I still remember the sparkle in your eye when I told you about the secrets of the world."

"When you think about this later, it'll just seem like some nightmare you had."

"He's not dead. He should be, but he's not."

"There's logic behind it. There's logic for everything."

"There's a lot of urban legends in this city."

"There must be a lot of ghosts running around a place like this."

"If there had been a secret death cult here for the best part of a century, I think at some point, someone might have noticed!"

"You said you wouldn't freak out!"

"You do know that there's some truth in every fairytale?"

[local-lesbian-tree-demon]

they should invent a body that feels normal to be inside of