#the mortician

[death-by-moth]

Oh!

Hello there!

#doodle #Crow may be a recluse but he does get along with Pyro #and by ‘get along’ I mean he doesn’t run off the moment he’s spotted #tf2 #pyro tf2 #The Mortician #my art #team fortress 2 #tf2 oc #death-by-moth #tf2 pyro

[ghostsessioned]

various tdc sketches because i can't help myself

#artfart #domibomz #domos #my wife #the dark crystal #the dark crytsal: age of resistance #tdc #tdc aor #gelfling #skeksis #dousan #skeksis oc #gelfling oc #skekling #the mortician #the crypt keeper #skekzok #maja #phantasmagoria #tasma #lyctling

[metalichotchoco]

Ideas for two new little neutral roles

Someone that hates their neighbors and a failed comedian that only wants to die at night

#tos #tos 2 #town of salem #town of salem 2 #tos oc #town of salem oc #mortician #the fool #Pierrot #the mortician

[phinix53]

Memento Mori

West Valley Hospital

#tw dead people #west valley hospital #undertale au #dream #the mortician

[inkher0]

The Mortician 💀

#heroart #creepypasta #the mortician #slenderverse #origin art

[transjester64]

TF2 OC, The Mortician

Character sketch; still figuring him out! He deals with the surplus of battlefield corpses but don't think he is defenseless! Embalming fluid is quite toxic!

#tf2 #tf2 oc #the mortician #my art #tf2 tenth class #tenth class oc #tf2 tenth class oc

[boisponge]

she deserves her own horror movie

#tf2 #tf2 art #self insert #oc #tf2 self insert #tf2 oc #the mortician #red mortician #blood tw #it would be either a slasher or a psychological thriller

[grim-faux]

oh yus @greensea-iza

I wonder if the “the Hospital” chapter is referred to as a hospital, only because the children have never been involved with a morgue prior. Your mention of the death masks is very intriguing, because we refer to those as “being masks” and some of the characters in the LN 1, do wear flesh or prosthetic masks due to deformities brought on by this world, from a not fully defined force – maybe the Signal transmission. The Chefs wear semi flesh faces, but the Lady wears a ‘decorative’ porcelain mask. There is a Roger mask in the morgue, but does that imply Roger at some point perished and wound up in the Doctor’s lair? The mask we see for Roger in the Hospital does not have its eyes covered, as well.

The entire section of the ‘Hospital’ implies that there may have been a plague or mass die out, just as we see the clothing draped across the city of Viewers that have been taken by the Transmission. And there are implications in the original concept art, that the Hospital/Morgue was overrun by people who were ill – as seen by a child sitting in a chair beside a gurney

And there are corkboards covered in notes and long lists hanging down to the floor. There must be a legit Hospital we never see in the Pale City, but the it would have been overrun early on due to whatever outbreak was unleashed on the city. Thus, the other place that may have held bodies or may have received overflow of certain populace who had no chance of recovery, was likely the Morgue. This explains why the cells are overflowing with bodies – everything got out of control, and the world fell apart.

Somewhere in the chaos unfolding, the mortician looking after the bodies became a “Doctor” to rebuild all these people, “perfecting the ones who ask for help, with his way” – Little Nightmares 2

And if we go off on what the creators of LN said was the theme behind the adults, becoming twisted caricatures of what they once were, we can see what this Doctor has become. A person who is a little too enthusiastic about perfection, and taking flesh but turning it into plastic. For some of the Patients, it is apparent he has run out of supplies.

#asks #greensea-iza #the doctor #the morgue #the hospital #little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #these kids running around barefoot and using bodies to reach high shelves #so they can get the cookie jar #i mean a fuse or something #the mortician #pale city #the signal tower #the transmission

[iblewthewhistle]

Rememorari

It was interesting to see everyone working together, on renovating the Mortuary. Waylon couldn’t help but smile as he remembered how he was found.

He’d awoken in the achingly familiar chair, and, after moving around the asylum, knew that he wouldn’t be graced with shoes, or his own clothes. Walking towards the front of the hall, the door was already open, a patch of blood staining the floor where Jeremy Blaire had sat.

He stepped over the blood and started to walk, noting that the road, the parking lot, it was all gone. Instead, a dirt path led the way away from the asylum, and he walked.

His feet ached, after a while, and he realised that it was snowing. His head tilted, and he continued walking.

The snow was chilly, but not truly cold. He wiggled his toes experimentally, looking up.

There was a massive building in the snow, and Waylon decided to head inside, padding on the worn, old carpet. His fingers trailed through dust on a countertop, and he looked around.

It was an old ski lodge, left to ruin in the elements. He moved to sit next to the fire that roared in a furnace, curling his knees underneath him. It wasn’t long before he dozed off, his eyes lingering on the fire until something dark moved and caught his attention.

“Who the hell are you?”

Waylon blinked, his eyes blurred. “Waylon Park.” He replied, his voice rough with sleep. “Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude…” He moved to sit upright, and the teens moved around him, one standing over his legs, one either side, and another leaning over the back of the couch.

The one in front of him leaned forwards, a knife brandished from his hand. “Where you from, stranger?”

Something sharp scraped over his back, and Waylon leaned forwards slightly. “Lettering says Mount Massive Asylum.” The one behind him said. “That where you’re from?”

“I’m not going back to that shithole.” Waylon spat out. There was a chuckle from the foursome, and the knife lowered.

“Admitted to the looney bin? What for?”

“Corrupt people in power. His dirty little secret, shoved in a jumpsuit and fed to the machine.” Waylon sighed. “And then there was the riot. Everyone broke free. And I had to fight to get out alive. I killed a man in there. And when I thought I was free…there was this…”

“Black fog?”

Waylon nodded, and the teen leaning forwards finally withdrew. “We won’t send you back. But it will.”

“It-?”

“The Entity.” A hand reached out, and Waylon took it. The teen was much more stronger than he thought. “It dragged us all here. Some are killers, some are survivors. I’d bet money you’re a survivor, if you escaped an asylum riot.” The teen paced in front of him for a moment, knife tapping against his palm.

“If you won’t go back to your realm, we know a place. But you need to take something helpful. Something that’s useful.” He waved the blade around in a circle. “Give something, get something. You know of anything in your place that would…be useful?”

Waylon thought for a moment. “I think the machines were still working. Maybe there’s stuff in the closets, too.”

“Yes, great! She’ll love that.” The knife vanished, and the teens crowded around him. “We need you to show us where it was. You don’t have to go back in.”

“I just…walked.” Waylon moved to the open wall he’d walked through, and pointed. “I think it’s that way.”

“Wait here. We’ll be back soon, and then take you to the Mortician.” The masked teens looked among each other, before they started off in the direction he indicated.

*~*~*~*

Waylon had settled back among the couch cushions when the teens returned, each holding a pillowcase that was bulging.

“Okay, Park. We got a good haul, so come on. We’ll get you to her part, teach you everything.”

“I’m Frank. This is Joey, Suzie and Julie.” Their leader proclaimed, and he beckoned the older man to follow them. Waylon walked after them, through the fresh white of the snow, still marvelling at the coolness despite his lack of shoes and socks.

They didn’t walk as long, as he had to towards the snow ravaged chalet. It was an old, ivy covered building, with high stone walls. The teens opened the old iron door, and called out.

“Borna! We got a newbie!” Frank howled, the sound reverberating from the walls. Another door opened, and a pale woman stepped out, her arms red with gore.

“Hm. Doesn’t look like a killer.” Her ice cold stare was hard to endure, and Waylon felt himself fidget.

“That sweet face is hiding a killer. But no, he’s a survivor. An asylum survivor.” They dumped each of the pillowcases in front of her. “Plenty of drugs and supplies in there, we cleaned out everything we could.”

Her eyes turned onto the pillowcases full of goodies, and Waylon shifted, pushing the sleeves up on his jumpsuit. “I can be of help. Just tell me what I need to do.” He offered.

“You’re cute. You can stay.” She smirked, before she turned on her heel and moved out of his line of sight.

*~*~*~*

“Hey.”

Waylon jumped, and smiled as he shifted over to let Frank sit down next to him. “You were lost in thought, huh?”

“Just thinking of how we met.” Waylon smiled to himself. “How I walked right into your hangout and you could have gutted me, easily. And you didn’t.”

“You were napping on the couch after walking through barefoot.” Frank tilted a bag of Skittles towards him, and Waylon held out a hand, accepting the treats.

“Wasn’t gonna do more than scare you, to be honest.” He twitched his lip in disgust, and tossed away a purple skittle. “Who likes blackcurrant. Eugh.”

Waylon laughed, and held out his hand, Frank depositing more purples into his hand. “Reminds me of medicine. I always hated it.” Frank looked up. “Doesn’t bother you?”

“Nuh-uh. As a Dad you end up eating a lot of leftovers no one else wants.” He looked down at the handful of candies, and sighed. “Reminds me of my boys.”

“You miss em?” Frank asked quietly. Waylon nodded, and ate the handful of candies all at once.

“It’s not so bad. You’re here. So are the others.” He threw an arm around Frank, who leaned into the touch. Waylon relaxed for a moment.

There was a sniffle.

Waylon wiped at his face. “Sorry. I miss them so much. And you’re what I hope they grow up to be.”

Frank’s brow furrowed. “A murderer trapped in an eternal realm of darkness and death?”

Waylon laughed, and reached over to give him a hug. "A good person. Despite everything."

#dbd/outlast #dbd verse drabbles #waylon park #the legion #frank morrison #e-temmu #the mortician #sorry this is long it's something I've had in my mind

[sayrynsong]

"who could she have been, if she had lived"

#spooky #goth #dark aesthetic #sayryn #the mortician #cemetary #halloween #macabre #emo #folk music #dark folk #folklore #urban legend #ethel cain #american gothic #spooky doll #Spotify #sad #dark music

[britcision]

Another “Danny works at a mortuary” but because he’s also the strongest source of ectoplasm in insert-city-of-your-choice he is constantly surrounded by blob ghosts that no one else can see

And occasionally they try to “help” him at work, moving tools around, trying to clean the pumps, just generally being well intentioned poltergeists who are very much not actually helping

Once in a while a group of particularly naughty blobs will hop into one of the bodies Danny’s preparing (it takes 6-8 blobs to make it move properly, since they need at least the knees, waist, shoulders, and head controlled separately)

Danny then has to chase the corpse down and very carefully suction the blobs out and try and get it back before anyone notices…

But he’s not always at work

And the blobs keep chewing through the corners of his ghost wards like naughty little goats

One of the heroes gets wind of suspicious body snatching activity at the mortuary (and possibly magic cult stuff if we’re playing with Shazam) and begins to investigate

The only rule is if we’re doing Gotham and bats Danny is accidentally sent a Talon at LEAST once and Scooby Doo shenanigans ensue while he chases the Talon around and tries to slurp the blob ghosts out, while the blob ghosts chase Danny to see what he’s doing

He’s doing his very best to just do his job and be a good mortuary assistant, and all his work colleagues/classmates from the program make so many jokes about living a horror movie

Danny WISHES he was just living a horror movie, but his permanent soundtrack is just the Benny Hill theme and there’s nothing he can do about it

(Maybe he’s shooting for mortician to help baby ghosts stabilise in a city less saturated than Amity, maybe he’s passing on messages for the dead, maybe it’s a psychopomp thing but he’s really trying not to get busted by the Justice League for body snatching that he isn’t even doing)

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #mortician danny au #but the blob ghosts are having the best time #they’re just happy little friends with about the intelligence of a sponge cake #and they’re having a lovely time

[death-by-moth]

How odd…

#they’re… friends? Sort of? #Crow eventually either brings BLU Spy’s head back to his team or kills him so he can respawn in one piece again #and BLU Spy is grateful to finally be out of that damn fridge #tf2 #tf2 spy #Crow #tf2 oc #The Mortician #team fortress 2 #my art #Death-By-Moth

[mixtapejunkie]

"Petition to bash the entity for letting a cultist in here. I thought the fucking oni was annoying enough."

Frank looked up from where he was refilling one of the jars on the shelves, at the expression on her face. He couldn't help but snicker a little.

"Oh, I'll sign it. Asshole wants to cause trouble." He replaced the lid, and removed the next jar to start refilling the cotton balls inside. "Still, at least he's not as mean as the Oni. Remember when he beat me up and I came to you for help?"

Frank certainly remembered, when he'd had the black eye and the the huge handprint across his throat. Instinctually hugging Borna for comfort.

"You wanna go and stab stab the crab, I'll happily come with."

#n-galmurrr #dbd verse #the mortician

[thedapinna]

I like history, memes and American girl dolls. Here's the union of all these.

#ss eastland #donner party #dancing plague #appalachian trail #molasses #boston #margaritaville #heavens gate #cleopatra #theda bara #american girl #american girl dolls #history #meme #wendigoon #ask a mortician #kaz rowe #niche memes #is this too niche

[yandere-romanticaa]

masterlist.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍! who's the talk of the town once he moves and settles in. The gossip started to pool in mostly due to his looks. He wasn't necessarily what one would call "conventionally attractive" but there was this air to him that was impossible to ignore. It was hard to find him anywhere throughout the day because he spent almost all of his time in the morgue, regardless if his work hours had long since passed. The only time he could really be seen was if you would be lucky enough to see him in the wee hours in the morning, large briefcase in hand and heading straight towards the usual destination. Small amounts of people would gather in the coffee shops and spy on the man. Gossip spread like wildfire but no one had the guts to actually approach him.

One chilly October morning, you decided to be brave. Pushing your insecurities aside your curiosity ended up getting the better of you. There was no turning back.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍! who's caught off guard by your sudden and bold approach but he doesn't mind.

As a matter of fact, he finds it quite refreshing.

He's not saying much as the day is just a bit too early for him and despite his drowsiness, he is paying attention to you like a hawk. His soft brown eyes are focused on your lips, listening to your every word. You invited him out on a coffee but he frowns - he has to work. A serial killer has been on the loose recently and due to that individual his work keeps piling on. Families need closure and he is an important part of that process. With a sad sigh he declines your generous offer and your demeanor is like that of a balloon which was violently popped, by his own hand none the less. He feels a bit guilty and proposes the idea that you actually come to his place of work if you're so keen on getting to know him. It was a little twisted of him but he was curious to see how fast you would shoot him down on this offer but the opposite happened.

You accepted it in a heartbeat.

Well, now he has to tidy everything up.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍! who can't help but to feel a little starstruck once he actually meets you on this would-be coffee date. He actually prepared a selection of teas in advance just in case you didn't actually like coffee, along with an assortment of snacks to boot. You sit in the lobby and make small talk with each other. The atmosphere is comfortable as soft music plays in the background, ranging from the latest pop music to classical violin. He doesn't like the quiet, he confesses to you. He can't do anything properly because the silence is too deafening to him.

He doesn't tell you that the sound of your voice is like lovely rain on a hot summer day to him. Cooling, refreshing. Perhaps a little bit necessary. His work hours are long and odd and the only people that surround him are not even alive.

That's his own fault though. His urges are too much to handle, sometimes. He has no one else to blame for enhancing his work other than himself.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍!, who starts to make room in his schedule for you whenever he can. Ideally, he doesn't actually like bringing you to the morgue. The place where he works is dark, desolate and cold.

That is no place for the likes of you.

No, he likes to see you bask in the warmth of the sun with a hot beverage in your hand, a goofy smile on your lips as you tell him the plot of the last book you read or the game you had played. He never has the heart to tell you to stop, your excitement is far too precious to him.

He is aware that he is not the easiest person to approach. Aside from the fact that people get a little jumpy once they learn that he works with the dead, his personality isn't much to brag about either. Whilst polite there's a level of dryness to him, a lack of humanity which other people are not so keen on. His shoulder black hair is always messy and, yes he will admit it, his fashion choices are a tad bit archaic. He's gotten an earful from strangers that he looks less like a man from the 21st century and more like a vampire from an 18th century gothic novella.

He knows those are not meant to be taken as compliments but he still sees them as such.

You like to tease him for his fashion choices and make an attempt to improve his wardrobe but you don't want to do too much. Truth be told, you like the way he looks but you don't dare tell him.

If he were to find that out his ego would go through the damn roof.

Within weeks, his closet was filled with comfortable blazes, a sweater or two, some casual t-shirts and some fresh, crisp white button ups that go along with pretty much anything and everything. He gave you the liberty of picking everything out for him.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍!, who starts to act more like a member of polite society rather than a reclusive shut in. You took his hand and showed him a glimpse of the world, just how beautiful everything can be. There are so many colors and smells, all so dominating and sweet. You take every chance you can to get him outside even if he's not very fond of the sun. You chastise him for how pale and sickly he looks as you shove food at him, his lanky body showing obvious signs that he was not eating properly.

He simply was not hungry. Food could never satisfy him. He only ate because his body demanded so of him. And for you, of course. He would never turn down any food you gave to him. Ever.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍!, who starts to become sloppy. His cuts are imperfect and his concentration has never been worse. He stares down at the corpse on his steel table, the bright light above him giving the dead hunk of flesh an unearthly aura of peace. With his gloved hand he reached for the poor victims cheeks, which have now gone hollow and dead. Your face suddenly flashes through his head, your giggles filling his ears, in a manner similar to that of when a person is submerged under water.

What would happen if this were you?

He never could have imagined that he could ever be this charmed by another human being.

For his entire life all he has ever had were his books, notes and his own gloomy company. He was not deserving of someone like you, a creature that thrived among the living. He suddenly stabbed the corpse beneath him with his scalpel, his hand shaking from the rage which overtook him.

Why couldn't he be alive like that?

What was wrong with him?

He could never get along with human beings, no matter how hard he tried. He stopped trying ages ago because the harder he tried, the more he failed.

There was no denying the fact that he was a freak of nature.

An abomination.

If he cannot function around the living he could always turn towards the dead. They made for much better company anyway, always there to listen to him and his woes.

It was frightening how much he relied on you now. His sanity was in your hands and you had no clue.

How cruel.

He hated you. He was beyond envious of your ability to function like a normal human being. All the things which you had perceived to be normal were nothing but pure anomalies to him. And yet, the more he hated you the more he craved you. He could never regret the decision of allowing you to enter his life. It was nice to be wanted.

He loved it when you wanted him.

Do you want him in the same manner in which he wants you? Did you possess the same wicked desires which he did? Human beings are all the same when push comes to shove. Their true colours are shown once they're faced with death.

And suddenly, he knew what he was going to do later that week.

🥀 𝐀/𝐍: I'm not good with creating original characters and I apologize for that. However! I keep having the same dream over and over and I just thought that it would be neat to turn them into entertainment for the rest of the world to see. Please share your thoughts and opinions with me, they are always highly appreciated!

#yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere mortician #yandere mortician x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere moodboard

[lunar-vvitch]

Today, Caitlin Doughty of the Ask a Mortician YouTube channel posted a video discussing the fact that her recent video, a long form documentary style video on the 1915 disaster of the SS Eastland in Chicago, the story of which has largely been forgotten, was given a community guidelines violation. It did not violate the guidelines YouTube has claimed it did, or any guidelines. But the video was essentially shadow banned. Caitlin is, of course, a mortician, and also a death-postive advocate and educator. Her entire channel is about education and honest discussion of death. The SS Eastland video was the product of months of work by her and her team in collaboration with historians and relatives of victims of the Eastland. An educational documentary that had the sole purpose bringing light to a forgotten tragedy and remembering the victims has been hidden away from all but those who know right where to look for it. The video is below, please watch it and share so this story isn't forgotten.

"A massive ship, an unthinkable tragedy, a chance to make sure the victims of the SS Eastland aren't lost to time."

Edit: the embedded video won't play because it's been age restricted :| of course. here's the link: https://youtu.be/UCHt2MOVCbg

#caitlin doughty #ask a mortician #ss eastland #censorship #youtube