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kannonymous · 6 months ago

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XX. XX. XXXX

SUBJECT: X AND Y

AGE: ±50

DO NOT DRINK!! (・へ・)

"What took you so long to wake up. It's getting boring here, I've prepared you a surprise" the two subjects seem confused, looking at each other. I made them sat facing one another, saving them the best seat for the best sight.

"Is that you, Kannon? What is this, what are you doing? Let us go" subject X never knew how to shut his mouth off, meanwhile Y is like freezing to death. Oh, I forgot, I leave both of them tied and naked.

"We just met again and you're leaving? Don't you miss having that thing inside me?" He stupidly gets bashful. "Nu uh, don't mistaken me, I'm not aroused. You're the worst and that could be the reason why your wife doesn't like to have sex with you"

In a second he's in a mad rage, remind me of that day when I told him he smelled like trash. He still does.

"Calm down, let me entertain my guests. Now shall we have some drinks?"

EXPERIMENT

METHOD: ORAL, INJECTION

MATERIAL: PISS, SPERM, BENZENE, DETERGENT, NO.

OBJECTIVE: TO LEARN TOLERABLE SUBSTANCES AND IT'S EFFECTIVE METHOD.

(01.00) AROUND AN HOUR OF WAITING SUBJECTS TO PISS AND HOLDS THEIR URINES.

Switched the urines for subjects to taste each other's.

Had subject X to drink immediately and he almost vomit from the smell of ammonia.

Subject Y drank the material when it's temperature drops.

Subject Y's reaction wasn't as strong as subject X.

Hypothesis: ok for urgent situation, do not drink it right away.

(01.12) MAKE BOTH SUBJECTS DOING FOOTJOB TO EACH OTHER TO GET SPERM MATERIAL.

Did minimum 5 orgasms to fulfill desired amount.

Switched the sperm to be drank.

First fresh sperms are injected into veins.

Both subjects feeling a little nauseous after swallowing material.

No significant reactions happened.

Hypothesis: useless but it was fun to watch.

(02.30) BENZENE IV INJECTION TO SUBJECT Y AND ORAL METHOD FOR SUBJECT X.

Injected 10 ml of benzene to subject Y vein twice with 15 minutes interlude.

Continuously make subject X drank material thrice every 10 minutes with total around 60 ml.

Both subjects vomiting.

Subject X had throat irritation > stomach irritation > heartburn.

Both dead pale, cold sweating.

Subject Y immediately had convulsion and heartburn.

Subject X over salivating.

Both looks sleepy, unconscious for a while.

Hypothesis: it's deadly.

(03.30) FILL IN DETERGENT TO CLEANSE SUBJECT'S STOMACH WHILE THEY ARE UNCONSCIOUS USING WATER HOSE.

Both subjects woke up having shock.

Subjects seem to have dyspnea. Indicated burns in the airways.

Subject Y stopped moving right after.

Subject X nosebleeding and vomiting blood before choked to death.

Hypothesis: you can't cleanse organs with laundry detergents.

(03.50) BOTH SUBJECTS DIED BEFORE TESTING THE LAST MATERIAL.

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kannonymous · 6 months ago

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XX. XX. XXXX

SUBJECT: MR. XXXXX

AGE: 56

UNEDIBLE FOODS. DO NOT TRY.

Clinking sound echoes, makes the man sat on the ground entirely shaking, perhaps he piss on himself like he's drooling all over his loose-taped mouth. I sat on a chair, watching the scene like it's a movie. I smoke a half cigs stolen from the victim. No, it is my subject of study.

"Please, you take all my money. Just set me free" what a sight, begging with those eyes covered, hands and feet roped, speak with stuttering voice, shaking body, drops sweating on that filthy face. I still remember how you said my hole would be perfect filled by many. That gives me instant ick. I stand up, walk towards him, step on his thing. Can it be crushed? I closed my eyes, imagining it would explodeㅡ oh, he actually pissed now.

I take off the blindfold. I haven't done anything yet he already seems like he's dying.

"Mister" I called. He doesn't respond, his brain still processing the pain. "Oi, wake up"

"..... Kannon?" I smiled upon hearing the sheer of fearsome on his tone.

Ignoring him begging on the back, I check the lists on my journal. "Shall we go with foods or the drink?" I asked to myself and turn around, "you're so noisy. Are you hungry, old thing?"

EXPERIMENT

METHOD: ORAL

MATERIALS: FLEAS, INSECTS, ANIMALS WASTE, ETC.

OBJECTIVE: TO LEARN VENOMOUS INSECT AND TASTE OF THE WASTE

(00.45) FEED HALF OF THE FLEAS AND SEE THE REACTION.

Nothing significant happened to subject's physical appearance.

Subject notably is not in good mental state.

Subject keep asking for water. Probably fleas causing rough, scratchy, dry throat.

(01.45) FEED ALL OF THE FLEAS AND SEE IF THERE'S ANY CHANGE REACTIONS.

Subject doesn't show any physical change.

Subject is trying to vomit but is not, could be fleas doesn't make human feel sick.

Hypothesis: fleas are mild.

(01.52) SWALLOW LIVING BEETLES AND GRASSHOPPER.

Living insects neither move on the throat or appears on its skin when get swallowed.

Subject said the grasshopper stucked. Could be taking longer time to digest. Don't try this when hungry.

Subject rebelled and vomited the last beetle.

Hypothesis: doable.

(02.15) WASP AND KISSING BUGS.

Subject rebelled and refused to consume material.

Subject needed two smashes using baseball bat to open his mouth.

Wasp and bug cut into half to make sure subject taste the juice.

Subject screamed and vomited soon after swallowing it.

Subject complained hot and itchy around his mouth and throat.

Subject is dead pale.

Hypothesis: venom is easily spread.

(02.42) FEED GOAT DROPPINGS.

Subject already on weak state. Needed to help him chew the droppings.

Took long enough to describe the taste (probably bland).

Subject said tastes plain grass.

Hypothesis: mild, ok if accidentally eat it.

(02.55) FEED HORSE MANURE.

Subject vomiting a lot after smelling the material.

Subject refused again to eat. Took another two swing for him to open his mouth.

Subject instantly vomit soon after he gets to taste.

Material finally get swallowed at the 4th try.

Subject vomiting green liquids from his mouth.

Subject had terrible stomachache.

Hypothesis: not safe.

(03.10) SUBJECT BEGGING TO DIE.

(03.21) HE SHOULD LIVE, NO MORE MATERIALS LEFT. TRY FEED HIM THE BAT.

Subject refused.

Subject's teeth gets on the way, break it all.

Force the bat get into subject's throat, see if human can digest a hard material.

Subject suffered to breath.

Only some inches, subject stopped responding.

Conclusion: you can't eat baseball bat.

(03.25) SUBJECT DIED.

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kannonymous · 6 months ago

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KANNON'S STUDY JOURNAL.

DON'T OPEN THIS WITHOUT ANY PERMISSIONS. TAKE YOUR OWN RISK, CURIOUS CAT.

( CW: PROFANITIES, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT, DEATH, MURDER, BLOOD, ABDUCTION, DISTURBING )

STUDY OF UNEDIBLE FOODS FOR HUMAN AND THE AFTER EFFECTS

STUDY OF UNDRINKABLE WATER AND LIQUIDS FOR HUMAN AND THE AFTER EFFECTS

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kannonymous · 6 months ago

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Little ladybug.

Name: Kannon

Age: 18

Sex: Male

Birthplace: [UNKNOWN]

Date of birth: Dec 26, 2006

Blood type: AB

Height: 160 cm

Occupation: [UNKNOWN]

Interests: insects, human, art, sword/knife play

Kannon, the leading male of story he's written in his head. He has child-like imagination, much of phantasms and living on a fantasy only few could understand. He came to the orphanage at 11, but some of his siblings would rather make less of interaction with him because they think he's a freak.

Indeed, he lacks the sense of morality. He may act in his own self-interest, even if it harms others. He sometimes could be a little pushy to obsessive towards certain things and/or person that caught his attention more.

He has the tendency engaging in illegal or unethical activities without remorse and refuse to take responsibility for his actions. People often find him questionable for that reason. Kannon is also know for his hobby: eating and collecting bugs in his room.

Though he's weird, Kannon always nice to the person he likes, certainly those who also treats him kind. He doesn't really mind when everyone else pushing him away. Despite of having terrible anger management, he rarely act aggressive.

Oh come on, how about pretending to be my friend? Isn't it better to have one more to fuck over than to ignore? That would be less boring.

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kannonymous · 6 months ago

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The Family Book.

A hero is what he believes he is. Taking all from all, losing them in one night. He was the great corpse, turning his murderers into dead body, sending them to cemetery. He was only 6 when it started. He didn't even understand what’s love and the meaning of losingーboth himself and the world that used to revolve around him. He didn’t get the chance to dream, only wanted to keep the home once he called family.

He couldn't recall how exactly his life was before it. Maybe it was colored blue like the surf he talks to, perhaps purple like bruises on his body, could also be red like blood on mother's gown and face. He doesn’t remember how it turned colors. Was it like the paint he used to play, or was it like how bodies losing their soul?

Years passed, he's freed, get into an orphanage but it didn't ended well, so he ran away. Now the hero is a bum, at least he isn't beggars.

"What are you doing here alone, kid?" That voice startled the beetle he was trying to catch for late night snack. He looked up, can't see the faceㅡ but he's sure that man isn't someone he can mess up with.

"I'm looking for beetles, or grasshoppers if I'm lucky"

"You like insects?"

"They taste better than shit"

The tall figure came closer to help him catch one, didn't kill the bug but broke the feet so it won't get away. "Here"

Both of them sat on a bench. The silence was loud, but none cares. Night is beautiful because it gives you serenity. He's taking glance at the side, finding the man has been looking at him for some time, he guessed.

"Do you have place to go?" Asked that masked man. That's quite surprising. Well, he never imagined the two of them would sat together after he said he ate bugs, he was actually eating one while they speak.

He turned his face away, now he's looking up at the skies. "No, I'm a stray cat"

"But I think you're wearing clothes from an... Orphanage?"

"Oh" he forgot he doesn't have any other clothes to wear so he should stick with it until he found another one. "I'm not going back there"

"The stray cat seems to long for a home, still" he didn't respond to that and pretended chewing the beetle that's already gone from his mouth. That man suddenly lend his hand, "let's go home"

"Whose home?"

"Your new home"

And he arrived in a room, it's comfortable for just an office. He's asked to stay there first because it's already late night and he can't just enter the orphanage. He can't believe this man is actually taking him to an orphanage, much bigger than where he used to live.

"Mind to tell me your name?"

"Kannon"

"That's a beautiful name. I'm Johanes, it's up to you how to call me, but the children usually call me father"

He nodded. The man inspects on how terrible his condition right now, but of course it can wait, he should be given place to have proper rest first.

"My apologies, dear child, you have to sleep here for tonight. Tell me if you need something"

He nodded again without saying anything. Maybe this is how it feels to be saved? Kannon thinks the father is the real hero, he wonders what kind of monster lies behind the mask. Drowned in his own thoughts, slowly his eyes feels heavy. Not that he's completely off guard, but he doesn't mind being killed if it's what the man originally planned, doesn't matter if it's the father who ends him. What a happy family.

In his sleep he murmurs, I have a father. He allows me to call him father.

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kannonymous · 6 months ago

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The Art of Murder: stage play of the hero.

CW: CHILD ABUSE, CHILD PORNOGRAPHY, VIOLENCE, IMPLIED SEXUAL CONTENTS, PEDOPHILIA, MURDER, PROFANITIES.

PROLOGUE

Children likes role-playing and turning themselves into big one such as hero. There are times where the adults can't jump into the world of fantasies, so the child created a hero, they became the hero.

This world is practically the biggest stage for them to play with pure imaginations. But is it really fine to get there completely unarmed? Because who would've thought that the stage could be the worst place to get into, that the leading character would suffered the long, eerie nightmaresㅡturning the illusion into reality. The hero is a child, would he survive?

Only time can answer.

ACT I : STATE OF THE FIRST FUNERAL

The curtain never falls on magicㅡstage never shakes down on the true act of manipulation. He, the hero, was born on the stage naked. He was a born star, now a porn star, forced him to stay undressed.

One, two, check. Camera's taking bodies all checked. Three, four, ca-ching! Old filthy men joined in. They sent you dollars for an sensual poses, oh, how exciting, disgusting.

Night was the longest time ever that he wished it'll going to be over, soon, or just give him the right to rule over; the live, his life. Women behind the lighting said, "baby, spread it more". Close to her, men holding the camera inaudibly whispered, "just listen to your mother".

For fuck's sake, go fuck yourselves.

Said, "he seemed enjoying it tho", how he wished he could spit on those faces like a well-paid actor throwing hatred. When he realizes, his skin got red, swollen, by the morning. As soon as he came back to reality, he was thereㅡa funeral of John Doe. That's what you call unidentified men, and he claimed himself as one, he believes that one day he will die like he's obscured.

There is the young hero, standing by the sea, talking with the surf blah blah. He spoke as if the entities listened, doesn't matter because he listens. The bells sounded in the state funeral, murderer and widow a pair, the two suspects stood behind the coffin, wailing in badly-paid grief.

"Who’s the corpse in it, dear? Is it you, or the dream you’ve long buried?"

Both, dear mother. It was me, you, father and the dream we call family. He laid on the ground first and heard the world revolving step by step into putrefaction.

I AM THE GOOD HERO, I HOLD NOTHING BUT LOSS AND GRIEF.

SOMETHING’S ROTTEN INSIDE, HE WANTS TO BE FREE FROM SORROW.

Eyes openedㅡhe was wide awake to watch the sun touches his pale skin, it turned into human colors again. The said God stopped him from damned fate called death. Everything came to live soon as the night gone, tragedy left the scenes like it never happened.

"Sleepyhead. Aren't you going to school?"

Weren't you going to die, mother?

ACT II: THE SECOND RINGS OF BELL.

Night comes, the reaper is on ceiling, hovering above the bare skin of a little boy. He was forced to get on stage while suffering from terrible ill, but unexpectedly the audience yelled, God, that was the best face he ever made. Go on, these checks are all yours.

It was like another sound of money, made the pair of humans, inhumane, were greedy for more so they sold too many. Overshown an art of violence, turning blue into the new color of arousals. The devils cheered, he silently died.

No, the hero wasn't even get paid, but he had to pull out an act like the main character.

Worst state of human ever was when they beg to die, easily, ironically. Neck almost get broken, but his wrists certainly had. Bodies are like being skinned, carved openㅡleaking out a soul, lonely and unwanted. He was bleeding out, crying, scream on top of his lungs, and yet people think he wasn't doing enough.

The leading male, a hero, usually meet hardships to eventually rises. In his scenario, the play’s exposition show people a never ending misery; he is running circle in the midst crises. It's happened all at once, he wished he was a hero who's able to save all at once, ironic.

Tragically father was the loss in his left hand, and mother was the embodiment of grief on the other side. He never knew what is safety, home didn't make him feel secure. This family line got him feel like breaking his neck on the beer hall bench. What if I die, what’s my corpse to them, anyway?

And when the morning comes, the bell makes the same sound, waking up the dead; unsalvageable fragments of soul in cemetery. He was all naked. but still wearing hat ‘cause his skull has one hole too many. Voices are coming out asking, is one state funeral not enough, you senile old fool?

WHO IS THE CORPSE IN THE COFFIN? FOR WHOM IS THERE SUCH A HUE AND CRY.

"Wake up, dear. You'll have visitors once every two nights from now on"

ACT III: THE LAST.

He knocked on the wall, several times, counted the numbers and bloods coming out at fiftyㅡonly half way through to the perfect number he wants. His dead eyes wandering around the cramped storage room that somehow refurbished into single bedroomㅡhis prison, a casket for one. He scratches the wall, anxious. Grief slowly turned into anger, a hunger, he could eat whoever opens the door.

"You look just as horrible as they said, little bug. Just a right course for dinner"

He barely can catch the air when two men in suit entered the room. Click, locked. In one second those big hands already crave for a choke. You smell like trash I thrown up this morning, said the hero. The next second he's already on the floor.

"Really? Is this how you throw it, hm?"

His bones feels like broken at some parts but he laughs eerily, draw an annoyed look on their faces. The first man forcefully grab him by his chin, make strong grip on it to intimidate him. But his voice just gets louder like he was mocking them. One slap, two and more, his nose starts bleeding and yet he won't stop laughing from the pain he feels.

It's like a show of dummies trying to crush a child in the palm of their hand. One of them fucked his mouth to shut him off. Hurt. He decided to make it hurt, he bites. Bold enough, that was enough to make him ended up get tied up tight.

"I paid a lot for this. You better be good, I know how to find your arteries" Knives, needles, liquids, he couldn't tell how much they brought just to play with a kid. "You'll be perfect to be stored as a herbarium" said the one with glasses.

Skilled hands made the best of art. The scalpel danced on his right arm, circles around it make a swirl wounds; it is red, beautiful. They sucked the blood, trace along the cuts like bitches having their treats, he thinks it's hilarious that his eyes starts dropping tears. His voice pitched higher, filled the cramped coffin.

"Oh no, you're wounded, ladybug. Though it's pretty, I think we need to close this incision on your skin"

They stitched it like he's a ripped jeans. He can't really do anything but to enjoy it, he came, to be honest he felt good from the fear and pain. "Godness, you naughty little freak"

That was the longest night, the worst ever since he was numerously resurrected from deathㅡslowly changing him into something else, the person you probably don't wanna cross by on the street. That was the craziest night, indeed. Who would hook up while getting sewn on the neck? He had it; on the neck, on his lips, along his arms skin.

The bell rings again as they left. That wasn't in state of funeral, but the awakening of something worse than a monster.

ACT ??? DEATH IS AN ART, AND BLOOD SHOULD BE THE PAINT.

I believe that life is a play and the world’s a stage. I claimed I am the hero, so it's time for me to take over and break the whole stage.

He stood there, a little kid in black and red, his pupils are bright red. He is what you'd visualize ladybug as a human. His lips mumbles a mourning song as he gets closer to his father's ears, whispering, you shoul've been buried alive with dishonor for can't even control that whore and protect your son. Atone.

I ALMOST DIED IN THAT ROOM FOR FUCKING MONEY I NEVER TASTED. NOW, ATONE.

Father was tied to the chair, too easy to make a trap for an alcoholic, too easy to manipulate a loser who's already drowned in guilt. Given two choices, the old man decided to hang his uniformed flesh and bones. Neat, almost like going on his own wedding. Isn't it just right to make mother the bride?

He made the fest once again. Mother's breasts a bed of roses, her lap a nest of snakes. He held back a little when he choked, in the edge of dying he spit on her and said, you will die wearing this gown. He never hated his mother, she hated him first, thinking of him as an object to make money. You should also die in the way I want.

He smear the rags of her dress into the earth which his father has become one with the rags; her face, her belly, her breasts. Now he takes thee his mother in his, his father’s invisible trace. He strangled her cry with his lips.

Now go, go to your wedding, whore. Broad in the sun shining on the living and the dead.

"Please, stop" NO, DON'T YOU DARE TO CRY. LAUGH. YOU HAVE TO LAUGH.

"I'll set you free, please spare me" I SAID LAUGH, and then his mother laughs, a really bad one, it gets him irked. Shall he correct it, he takes knife he brought and cut her throat, helping mother to sound more harmonious.

She coughed blood, she's wailing, triggers a mad rage. He screams, I TOLD YOU TO LAUGH. He no longer cares of how she sounds, she better shut her mouth off rather than ruining the feast. The blade's stabbing throat until it's destroyed. She's completely muted. Before him lies an enchanting art, his eyes flickering in excitement watching how her lips slowly turned colors. Blue matches death more, he thinks.

Now it's his turn to laugh, then he laughed. Ah, what a happy family, glad now you have died blissfully.

That was the art of writing, he had done the art for painting fear on their faces.

WASH THE MURDER FROM THY FACE, PRINCE. MAKE A CHEERFUL FACE FOR BEGINNING AFTER THE END.

EPILOGUE

So, has the time answered the earlier question? It took years to know how would the story end and where it's leading toㅡ new beginning after the dark days.

It costs a monster to be the hero today.

Perhaps those who watches are questioning the morality, right or wrong on the ways, but he's being called hero not for immersing sins. He ain't God nor he trusted any deities. He is the hero for saving the one worth of life, murdering those who deserves it.

Is taking bad people's life a sin? He left the question hanging, he left the stage with the curtains closed behind.

I'LL GET ON ANOTHER SHOW TO TAKE MY REVENGE.

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