#TW human dissection

[autobot2001]

A Warning Message

MediWhump: no screaming WhumpMay: chair TW; torture, knife, blood, gore, human dissection, beheading, graphic kill, mention of suicide (Snippet from Hidden Killer)

Sunstreaker doesn't bother trying not to kill soldiers if they disrespect him, but now they better be careful not to disrespect Jamie and Lily. He would have loved to send a message with the body of the soldier who beat Lily, but he wasn't risking bringing the body back, and he certainly wasn't carrying a body off a cruise ship. Sunstreaker knows he has to be careful, remembering the challenge he and Lily had just to be allowed to be together and the challenge he has getting Jamie to befriend him. Seeing Jamie upset pisses him off before finding out the cause. Not that it's any better, but the issue is not a soldier. Sideswipe assures him. Remember, she went home the other day? Unbelievable, she can't catch a break. I know she deals with scrap less here, but I hate soldiers target her and Lily. Sunstreaker tells his brother. Glad they don't target Jasmine or Audrey. That would be fragged up targeting a toddler, but she's always with an adult. Leave Jamie alone for a while. Sunstreaker agrees though he wants to see if art will help her mood.

"How is that human allowed here?" Sunstreaker hears a soldier, "I heard she was going to kill herself three years ago, but she was allowed to keep coming back here." The soldier is shoved to the wall, a hand over his mouth. They're near an unused room no one knows Sunstreaker uses as a torture room.

Even though it's been a while since Sunstreaker has tortured a soldier, the room is still prepared for the next victim. A chair in the middle of the room below a light. Sunstreaker was able to change the lights so that only that light turns on.  The Autobots can see in the dark. The soldier being dragged worries about where he's being taken even though he knows it's a room in the base, even as he's forced into a sitting position and tied up.   "Untie me!" They demand. "No! I should talk scrap about you, but you won't feel like Jamie does. I think you deserve physical pain, but no screaming!" Sunstreaker starts slowly cutting the soldier's arms in various spots. The soldier bites their tongue to not scream even as Sunstreaker moves to cut the soldier's legs. Smiling at the blood going down his legs better than the blood on his arms. He wanted his victim to be quiet but misses the screaming.  Screams or no screams, he has to send a message to the soldiers in the baser. This soldier must die. Sunstreaker smiles hearing the soldier scream in pain as he stabs deep in the abdomen. Creating large incisions for organs to fall out. The soldier looks at what's going on in horror, knowing the end is near. Sunstreaker then moves the knife up, repeating what he did to the soldier on the cruise ship. The soldier is dead in seconds. He cuts the limbs off and beheads the soldier.  Once the mess is cleaned up, he figures out how to distribute my message across the base overnight.

Soldiers and Autobots are horrified, finding human body parts and organs across the base. Sunstreaker listens to the conversations around the cafeteria. "The killer is here," he hears several soldiers say. This is not what was supposed to happen. Sunstreaker thinks. Even if they're all terrified, if they'll leave the two femmes alone, then I'll accept the fear.

Lennox, Optimus, and Prowl on the other hand, are concerned that the Holiday Killer is in the base. That a new recruit is likely him. Austin is concerned his cover is close to being blown, but leaving won't protect his cover. I guess it's time for the next phase of the plan. He decides and contacts Megatron.

[starry-bi-sky]

more cfau miscellaneous things because Childhood Friends Danny and Jason have my head and heart always and I need to finish rewriting chapter two dammit (and redo the half-finished chapter 4 because its just Not The Vibes). i'm almost through I need to get through the graveyard scene. (i just stubbornly refuse to have it be shorter than the original chapter and thats the little death. that is the mind killer.)

Danny and jason’s ghost forms both smell faintly like burnt flesh and cigarettes. However, Jason has a more smokey smell while Danny’s smells almost,,, electrical? In a sense? Like he just straight up smells like burnt flesh and sulphur while Jason smells like someone put him in a smoker first.

It’s very much an unpleasant smell but Danny finds an odd comfort in it just as much as he finds a comfort in the smell of nicotine.

(Jason post-revival smells burnt flesh once and is immediately offput by the fact that it brings him an instinctive comfort. He doesn’t realize its because it reminds him of Danny, and is uncomfortable by it.)

-

In an au of an au, Danny’s altercation with Rath ends with Rath regaining enough of his sanity to snap out of the grieving state and ends with him breaking down. Instead of being souped and imprisoned, Rath, who is permanently 14, decides to Move On into the unknown. He’s exhausted, heartbroken, and tired.

(Is this influenced heavily by the ParaNorman scene where he talks to Agatha and helps her move on? Yes. But it doesn’t fit with the Original Storyline so im shoving it into an Au of an Au.)

Rath tells Danny that Jason lied to them (which he genuinely believes), and that he’s tired of waiting/looking for him/grieving. Jason is gone. He isn’t coming back, he abandoned them. And he wants his mom and dad, and his sister, and his friends. And he’s ready to join them.

He leads Danny out to Gotham, which other than Amity Park might’ve been the only city left untouched due to Rath’s own mental block on the place. They go out to the park he and Jason used to frequent or up to one of crime alley’s rooftops, and there Rath lies down and goes to sleep. Only to never wake up again, materializing into nothing as his soul moves on.

Before Rath leaves, he forces Danny to promise him that he’ll only wait for Jason for ten years. After that if he doesn’t find him, or if Jason doesn’t show, then Danny has to move on. Whether that be like how Rath does, or if its inly mentally/emotionally, doesn’t matter. He has to move on. Don’t wait for him. Don’t waste his time any more.

(“Oh, and if you find him, kick his ass for me.”)

Danny reluctantly agrees, and Rath lies down. Danny sings to him as he falls asleep.

(Angsty points if the vigilantes including Red Hood caught wind of their presence and were silently watching from the shadows. Rath might know they’re there, but Danny’s too focused on Rath to notice.)

(If only so that Red Hood realizes that this is what happened to Danny, and that Danny is gone before he can make things right. The tragedy, folks. The angst. The initial realization that Danny was Rath, and then also that Danny was dead and has been dead for years, and that before he moved on, he moved on believing that Jason abandoned him.)

(like i said it doesn't fit in the original timeline/storyline hence why its an au of an au and isn't nearly a fleshed out, but i was largely just focusing on the tragedy of Rath moving on and Jason being alive to see it and realize just who Rath is.)

-

Just like how the Lazarus pits shot Jason's twiggy 4'6-5'4 (depending on what you find) feet tall and 86lb ass up like a tree an essentially fixed his malnutrition, the portal did the same thing for Danny.

(granted i forgot about malnutrition and danny's likely stunted growth at first -- his family lived in crime alley and despite both his parents working, I don't think they had enough food all the time. He probably wasn't as badly malnourished as Jason was, but he wasn't healthy either.)

Granted his ghost in its "natural" state (14) is short, and his growth spurts were slow at first, it did result in him reaching his dad's height. There were points where it just happened overnight, like a baby. He went to bed one night 5’6 and woke up the next day 5’10.

Jazz is shorter than him. Although I have't decided if she's even liminal at all (and if she is, it didn't cure everything because she would have also suffered childhood malnutrition, and since in au canon their parents didn't get their hands on physical ectoplasm until after they got to Amity Park. So the exposure is less.)

-

Danny's voice absolutely sounds like canon Dan's. It kinda just dropped one day when he was 16-17 and never went back up. Sam and Tucker sometimes ask him to just talk about anything because they find his voice soothing.

I'm not sure yet how Danny would feel about it at first considering Rath, but I imagine that Rath, when he did speak, would have had a quieter and scratchier/weaker voice considering he's spent the last decade shrieking and crying.

(and i suppose technically that shouldn't have any effect on his throat considering he's a ghost and idk if that would actually affect him, but i like the idea so im keeping it)

In the beginning you could hear him from a mile away by the sound of his loud, echoing wails, but ten years later you can only really hear him by the soft, shuddering sobs he makes. Like he's gasping for air that isn't there. The future is full of very quiet survivors.

And it's much easier to speak when you pitch your voice upwards (especially when whispering/speaking quietly) so he might've spoken in a higher, airy pitch in order to be heard. So Danny might actually find a comfort in having a lower voice.

[loonarmuunar]

MONSTER SYLVIE’S DESIGN!!

Sylvie IS helping Molly, but his motivations are more morally grey than just for the sake of helping her. He’s fascinated by humans, and he has an interesting in studying her. It’s very unclear what he means by studying but Molly isn’t in any immediate danger. For now, at least.

I have NO clue how he would’ve died (maybe medical malpractice?) so uhhh if anyone has any ideas 👁️👁️ lemme know

[imbadatparking]

The line is drawn on the body perfectly, meticulously — cold hands don’t shake once as their latex-covered fingers grip the marker. The air is frigid, and beneath the one in control, the body twitches. It won’t be able to feel anything under all that anesthesia, and it’s been put under for a long while now, so the reaction is strictly biological, but he hesitates nonetheless. You can never be too careful.

The next moment is silent, still, absent of any suspicion that anything could be alive in the room. The one in control grins — for it is a miraculous thing to be granted this opportunity — and sets down the marker. He picks up the scalpel next to it, both the odd shade of crimson red for different reasons, satisfaction settling in him as it gleams in the Gray Room’s lighting. 

The one in control feels adrenaline from the ends of his fingertips to the heels of his feet as he makes the smooth, red line straight down the subject’s chest. The sharp edge splits the skin and opens it, and the blood immediately rushes out. He watches in morbid fascination as warm rivers of blood flow down to the dip in the stomach, rolling off the ribs with a beautiful vibrancy.

He reaches his hands into the ravine it makes, gloves stained red and blood slicking up his arm and filling the room with that repeating shlck, shlck, shlck. The predictable shiver of pleasure he always gets slithers into his brain and activates something he rarely feels, but in moments like these. He takes a deliberate breath and pulls himself back together not even a second later; he can take care of it later tonight, if he’s lucky enough to be able to remember the feeling.  

He can’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust at the way the intestines slime together, the familiar squelching of bloody fluids. It always gets everywhere — point in case, disdainfully, as it slips from him when he tries to place it on the plastic covered counter — and the inevitability only adds to his disgust. 

He shudders. In this line of work, very few things truly disgust him. This never fails to. There’s a reason why humans aren’t his favorite subjects. Rabbits, small dogs, even raccoons — they’re the easiest to handle. Humans are… probably the worst.

Regardless, this is what The Master asks for. What The Master Wants, The Master Gets. He will carefully package every part of this precious, beautiful body, from all ten carefully pedicured toenails, to the billions of billions of strands of hair upon the subject’s head. It’s what he’s asked of him. 

Besides, he'd be lying if he said a part of him — a rather large part of him (eight inches, to be exact) — didn’t enjoy it. There was a thrill to the chase. An excitement to the cut. 

@nosebleedclub april xv. vivisection

[fleshwizard]

sketch dump from the lab

[cloudydays69]

BIRTHDAY GIFTSSS!!!!!

And a frog dissection kit! Yeah, I think that's a real dead frog

[proudheron]

mesentery appreciation post

[booklovertwilight]

Vivisection (from Latin vivus 'alive', + sectio 'cutting') is surgery conducted for experimental purposes on a living organism. The practice originated before scientists knew animals were capable of feeling pain.

[oculusxcaro]

🍉 - What is something they have done that they feel the most guilt over? How do they handle this guilt?  Does the guilt ever get resolved?

Random Headcanons

One of if not the biggest thing Khare feels like utter shit about even to this very day? Not helping the other people unfortunate to get locked up and experimented on alongside her. Not while escaping, not going straight to the authorities and telling them about the place the moment she walked free, Khare did absolutely nothing, focusing purely on saving her own hide and the guilt eats away at her every single day. It wasn't as though they were friends but she watched for months as others were subjected to countless experiments and injections like her with many of them dying, if they hadn't been grossly mutated beyond recognition or driven mad as a result. Some of them were like her, young people snatched from the streets by chance. Some were older with families of their own, wondering if they'll ever see their loved ones again. Many were barely teenagers, runaways or problem children who wouldn't be missed. It was a horrible time for them all, wondering who would be next to go, be it in a body bag or on the autopsy table as their captors investigaged their findings more thoroughly. As soon as the opportunity to escape presented itself, Khare grabbed the chance, snatching the keycard and running off into the wilderness where the facility had been hidden deep in the mountains, away from prying eyes. It took a while to find civilisation and when she did... Khare said nothing to anybody, focusing purely on making her way down south, to put as much distance between herself and her captors, in case they were still pursuing her. Where the facility actually was, Khare is unable to recall and not a day goes by where she doesn't think of those left behind, still being tortured and warped beyond recognition as their tormentors focus on their sick goal of creating their own metahumans, of finding out how to bestow powers onto ordinary human beings. Could she have grabbed a few survivors? Could she have unlocked their cells and led a rebellion against their captors? Or could it have all failed and she'd be yet another corpse for them to study, making them one step closer to their plans?

The what-if's and could-be's keep her up most days, and it's a relief when she finally goes into torpor if only to stop thinking for a while.

[hxney-lemcn]

When You Nerd Out (Biology Edition) — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: the overblots find out you're more of a nerd than they realized...

tw: mentions of bugs (not really but I digress), mentions of arachnids (literally just the name of one lol), mentions of reptiles (idk maybe people are scared of them), mentions of snakes.

a/n: a reptile show is happening soon and I've been looking into so many reptiles/invertebrates/amphibians I had to get this out of my system somehow. What better way then to ramble to fictional characters? (Help me)

wc: 1.2k (~180 per character)

Master List

Riddle Roseheart

When Riddle first met you, you were downtrodden, having just been thrown into a new world filled with magic and flair that yours didn’t. Your grades weren’t the best (but far from the worst), and you always seemed tired no matter what. So when your eyes lit up when he showed you the flamingo and hedgehog cages/pens he was surprised at the amount of facts that spilled from your lips. From how flamingos get their color to how hedgehogs are carnivores. Or how you could even ramble on about flowers and plants, like how tea garden roses are the most short lived species. From then on, Riddle would come to you for even the smallest of things. Did you want to feed the animals with him? This rose bush is wilting, are there any tips to bring it back? Do you know the meaning behind the colors of roses? No particular reason for that last question…just don’t question the bouquet of white and red roses mixed with baby’s breath that show up on your doorstep the next day.

Leona Kingscholar

It was hard not to notice when you seemed to be on the brink of exploding. How you’d stare at awe in Leona’s presence, as you should. But your eyes would always wander to his ears, teeth, tail, nails. It got to a point that he felt like you were mentally dissecting him. It was his downfall to growl out a short “what”, as you started to pile on questions to the beastman prince. “Are your nails sharper than a humans?”, “How much better can you hear?”, “Does your tail help you balance?” All Leona could do was stare at you with boredom. Who knew his herbivore was a nerd? He supposes he could humor you for a little bit. Press his sharp nails lightly into your skin, a teasing smile as he asks if you’d like a test. Perhaps a nibble to show you how well his canines work? It all goes awry when you start taking interest in other beastmen, who cares about the cheetah or leopard bestmen when you have a lion prince right here?

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul never thought twice about where he’s come from. He’s seen many kinds of merpeople, many kinds of fish or crustaceans or sharks. But he knew land dwellers didn’t have that, which is why he has the giant aquarium in his lounge. He got used to the awed expressions as well, more focused on swindling the poor souls. So when your jaw dropped and how you clearly restrained yourself from running up to the giant aquarium, Azul felt giddy. He could offer you something most couldn’t. He’d watch as you’d point out a fish or ray that you saw and explain how much you loved the color or how magnificent it looked. When you brought up how smart you thought octopi are, it was over. His heart couldn’t take it. You know he was an octopus merperson right? You were basically complimenting him without realizing it. He couldn’t get over how you stared in wonder at the blue ringed octopus that was waving back at you. And oh sevens you were giggling at it? He wasn’t getting jealous over another octopus, no way…

Jamil Viper

Jamil noticed the excited look in your eyes when you learned his last name was Viper, but nothing had happened at the time. It wasn’t until Kalim had you rambling about animals did Jamil realize just how much you seemed to love snakes. How you named your favorite in a heartbeat to how you scrutinized the ones you looked into as pets. It wasn’t until Kalim started to offer to buy you all those snakes and more did he have to step in. Yet Jamil felt flustered when your gaze landed on him, your eyes that had been filled with fondness while rambling about snakes had only seemed to get brighter when looking at him. Reluctantly, Jamil let you drag him to a reptile show, something Kalim had pushed him to do. For his own sanity, Jamil ignored the giant pouch of money Kalim tried to stealthily hand you, instead, focusing on your awed expression at the variety of animals. He couldn’t help but watch the snakes in awe with you, and when you asked him if he wanted to help you set up an enclosure for one…who was he to say no?

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is a busy man. With photo and movie shoots to interviews to taking care of himself, there isn’t much time to stop and smell the roses. But with you, he tries to make time, and it's like a breath of fresh air every time. It was nice to sit outside and bask in the sun (with sunscreen of course) and talk with you. Something had clearly caught your eye when you dropped from the bench to scoop something off the ground. Vil thought he knew you well enough…apparently not. He hadn’t expected to see you shove a rolly polly, pill bug, potato bug, whatever you want to call them into his face…okay maybe he’s exaggerating. You held the little thing far enough away that it wasn’t all too startling. He swore he never saw you so excited about something, or how you rambled that they weren’t bugs, but crustaceans that live on land. The way you gently held the critter to how fondly you looked at the curled up thing made Vil’s heart flutter. You always seemed to find beauty in things most would shudder at. How odd.

Idia Shroud

Idia had no idea how you managed, but you had convinced him to get a plant. You had called it a zz plant, and thought it would be perfect to liven his room up as it didn’t need direct sunlight. He watched the plant as it sat next to a grow light, it needed something since he didn’t have any windows. The dark purple leaves were pretty, you were right. As much as he tried to keep up with watering, he would forget, but Ortho seemed to have it covered. When little leaves started sprouting, Idia felt proud, a weird feeling he wasn’t used to. When you came over and saw how well it was doing you beamed. That stupid fluttery feeling filled him as you praised him, not to mention it mixing with feeling proud. Not a good combo, as now he was thinking of asking you if there’s any other plant you may recommend, just to get you rambling once more about different plants that could thrive in his little cave of a room.

Malleus Draconia

Although Malleus loves to hear your voice, you always seem content to hear him ramble. The way your eyes watched intently, trying to find what he was pointing out on a gargoyle, or how you’d ask questions about the differences of a gargoyle and grotesque. At first, he was concerned when you gasped, had you gotten hurt somehow? Yet he found you excitedly pointing out a house gecko that stood near the gargoyle he was talking about. He watched you in awe as your eyes glittered, and how you were basically jumping up and down. Then you started going on about geckos, reptiles, and all sorts of odd things people keep as pets. The way you basically swooned at the thought of owning a crested gecko or a crocodile skink, Malleus was ready to hand you all the money you needed. He is the best and worst, as he’ll never tell you no and fund your hobby till your heart’s content. Just make sure to pay attention to him too, yeah? Unlike skinks or tarantula’s, he likes your affection. Plus, he’s the best reptile of them all, no? He’d gladly show you his dragon form.

[fuckassbitchboy]

my brain while im explaining what statutory rape is to a fucking freshman.

A FRESHMAN. FUCKING 1 4.

A 14 YEAR OLD.

WHAT THE FUCK

I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO EXPLAIN THAT WHAT IT EXPERIENCED WAS RAPE.

IT SHOULDN'T HAVE EXPERIENCED THAT. THEY'RE 14. IT SHOULD BE FUCKING PLAYING IN A MACDONALD'S PLAYPLACE.

NOT. BEING GROOMED. AND USED AND MANIPULATED. NO.

I want to take. every single pedophile. cut off their hands. rip out their tongue. let it rot in front of them for a couple days. and then make them eat it.

you ever even look at a kid that way again i will rip out your eyes and make you swallow them whole. a bit of ah. forced self reflection. if you will. look inside yourself, will you?

What do ya see? that's right.

nothing. The void.

It smiles at you, not that you can see it, you have no eyes. you also can't talk to it, as you have no tongue. and you definitely can't shape it to your will. you have no hands.

you could walk, but you have no will to do so. it would follow you, anyways.

all you can do is feel yourself decay as you return to the earth. to become a more productive member of society. like moss, or fertilizer. perhaps fungi.

[hatchetmanofficial]

Hi I just played this game recently but I'm curious about the lore and idk where to find it i see a lot of people mentioning boss stu (I keep reading stfu) and idk who those are do i have to read all the asked questions to get the lore going on or I can find it somewhere else? (Anyway here's a squished alan holding a red flag)

MDHM LORE (no spoilers for the actual game):

This is only going to cover the backstories/extra details and the world of MDHM but does not touch what is going to happen in the game. Some TW for the lore, will contain stuff like substance abuse, suicide, toxic relationships, gore and child abuse.

Alan is the main love interest of the game. He is an assassin who lives in the woods in the town that set in the game, far from society but occasionally visits when he has "important" stuff to do. He is the second youngest of four brothers. Claude, Jules, and James. Alan has a pretty strained relationship with them especially after their mother passed away from suicide. Alan ran away during high school and has no connections to the current culture in the modern world.

Erika is a new college friend/classmate you encounter in your English class. She is the only adopted child of two dads with whom she is currently keeping secrets to not disappoint them. She works as an employee in the local skater rink and volunteers at the rescue cat shelter. Erika is very fashion-forward and is pretty smart when it comes to problem-solving and has a hobby of solving mysteries. She has a six-legged cat named Loki and lives with her roommate Rosie.

Stu is a child friend who harbors feelings for the player. He hasn't been in contact with them since they left for college as he stayed in their old town behind. He has an older sister named Toni who also left for university, his mom, and his dad who had a pretty unhealthy and dysfunctional relationship until he moved out. Stu lives in a frat house on school grounds and is a part of a band called the Critters of Wreckage (CoW). Stu struggles with pornography addiction as well as drinking as he became very isolated after not talking with the player.

Carver is Alan's coworker. I have not revealed much about him, other than he has the most trauma, especially during childhood, out of everyone. He has an estranged past he can't quite remember after being hired as an assassin. He is missing pupils but is still able to see. He has a fascination for experimenting and dissecting his victims, even though he really isn't allowed to. I would love to point out that Carver doesn't call the player "Guinea Pig". That name is for his OWN person of interest who he has yet to find. He still calls the player "Doe-Eyes" simply because Alan calls them that. His real name is Calvin and he is 31 years old.

Stitches is another coworker of Alan and Carver. Not much is known about him. He isn't human although he appears to be. Stitches, is in fact, made up of three different body parts from three different people. His head, the torso, and his legs. Stitches was created by Boss.

Boss is, obviously, the boss of Alan. No, he doesn't have a name as he simply just goes by "Boss". He is older than the town, older than time actually. He doesn't have much of a physical form but used roadsigns as a body for him to use. He communicates through images or texts from the signs.

Buck is Alan's dad. He doesn't know that Ophelia has passed away since their separation and is still in love with her. He hasn't seen Alan either but still wants to connect with his son.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - unhealthy relationships, mentions of gore/human experimentation, forced marriage. written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Recently, all your mornings had started the same way: ten or so feet below the ground, buried under the satin sheets of an otherwise empty bed in a stone chamber decorated with all the love and tenderness of a hospital room, freshly cleaned after the death of its last occupant.

Blearily, you stumbled out of bed, grimacing at the feeling of the cold, rough floor against your bare feet. Temperatures in Snezhnaya rarely rose above freezing, and while your husband didn’t seem to mind the cold, you weren’t so resilient – shrugging on your heaviest robe before so much as opening your eyes. A mug of coffee was clumsily assembled in your minimalistic kitchenette (a feature you insisted on, after being forced to share a communal ice chest with one of his more dissection-focused segments), then a cup of tea; herbal and rich, a blend from Sumeru he had imported every few months. For as many years as you’d been with Zandik, you’d never been able to make sense of what he considered worth his time and what he disregarded as frivolous wastes of effort and mora. You supposed you could only be thankful you fell into the former group, lest your body be the next to adorn his vivisection table.

Once you’d managed to shake the chill and bring yourself to a state of near-consciousness, you stumbled out of your bedroom and into the corridor, ignoring the curious looks of young researchers and patrolling soldiers and shrugging open the steel door at the end of the hall. The smell of rot and preservatives hit you as soon as you stepped into Zandik’s personal laboratory, but your eyes only glazed over the dark puddles splattered across the floor, the amorphous mass covered with a white sheet and laid across a metal table before landing on your husband – slumped over his desk, his face buried in his arms and ink staining his fingertips, his left cheek. With a sigh, you made your way to his side, placing both mugs on the edge of his desk and resting your hands on his shoulders. Letting your eyes fall shut, you lowered yourself to his height, resting your lips against the top of his head and only pulling away when he began to stir.

He'd always been a light sleeper (in comparison to you, at least), and it’d never taken much to rouse him. You straightened your back and as if on cue, he bolted upward, gaze darting to the door, then his operation table, then you – where it would stay. A slight grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he pushed his chair away from his desk and tapped his leg, and without protest, you climbed into his lap; straddling his thighs and burying your face in the crook of his neck. One of his hands found its way to your hip while the other took to rubbing small, slow circles into your back. You waited for him to settle underneath you before breaking the silence. “I want to go home.”

Home, meaning the gothic, looming mansion you usually resided in when he wasn’t working out of one of the Fatui’s countless underground facilities or traveling abroad. It was also dark and drafty and a far cry from your previous home, the home he’d taken you away from the day he married you, but you’d been able to decorate it to your preferences and you didn’t need to go through ten of his soldiers just to step outside. He hummed, the sound passive and dismissive, and you frowned into his shoulder, nudging gently at his chest. “I’m serious, Zandik. Everything smells like blood and you haven’t come to bed in days. Being around all these chemicals is going to be the death of me – that is, if boredom doesn’t do the job first.”

Another hum, this one slightly more thoughtful. “You know I would pluck the stars from the sky for you,” he started, his voice still low and coarse with sleep. “But I am here on the Tsaritsa’s orders. Are you sure you’d have me test the good will of an archon for something so mundane?”

“Yes.” You’d seen him butcher orphans and burn villages to the ground. If he was still in his goddess’ good graces after so many centuries of relentless carnage, you were sure she wouldn’t mind a sudden relocation. “There’s nothing you do here that you couldn’t do in your own laboratory.” You thought for a moment, then added, “Unless you’ve decided that you love your archon more than you love me.”

His smile faltered, something possessive and pointed catching in his eyes. His grip on you tightened, but he recovered quickly, letting out an airy chuckle as he bowed his head and nuzzled mindlessly into the dip of your shoulder. “Two more weeks,” he promised. “Then, I’ll send you home – one way or another.”

“One more week.” You sat up, cupping his face and forcing him to meet your eyes. “Or I start spitting in your tea.”

“One more week if you start spitting in my tea.”

“You’re a vile, repugnant little man.” You leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Deal.”

You spend the rest of that day lounging across the velvet-cushioned loveseat in the corner of his lab, skimming through your dozenth pulpy romance novel and watching your husband dismember corpses with a vigor you hadn’t seen since the first days of your marriage.

[fleshwizard]

sketch dump from the lab : cardiology

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

(TW: Religion)

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

When we think about reconciling Christianity and our identity, then we are often automatically jumping to „re-interpreting Bible verses that are used to justify homophobia/transphobia“ or to „looking for Bible verses that can be interpreted in a lgbt-supportive way“. 

Both of that is valid and definitely has its place. And if you are someone who (or trying to discuss with someone who) believes everything in the Bible is true and to be taken literal, then looking for the most accurate interpretation of each passage is also pretty much the only thing you can do.

In that case, take comfort in knowing that there is often historical, cultural etc. context missing from conservative interpretations and learning about that context lets us see seemingly hateful verses in a much more inclusive light! 

That Bible verse that seems to be against gay sex may very well be against rape, that Bible verse that seems to be against trans people dressing the way they want to may very well be condemning old rituals that have nothing to do with modern life. I don’t think looking for these alternative (or maybe *better*) explanations is heathenish at all. God wants you to think critically, that’s why he gave you the ability to. If he gave you a book to live your life according to, then it stands to reason that he’d want you to find the most accurate meaning of his words, and that means looking past the most superficial interpretation.

But if you are (or the person you’re talking to is) open to the idea that maybe the Bible isn’t meant to be taken literal in its entirety - then it can feel tedious to dissect singular verses. 

In that case, you probably don’t feel the need to dissect other parts either and you just disregard them. For example you look at certain verses containing rules on hygiene or health, and you disregard them because you figure those were written in, and for, wildly different times and they just do not apply to modern life anymore, and you believe that one can be a good Christian while also disregarding those specific verses. 

If that’s you, then an approach that might fit you better would be to look at the bigger picture instead. Treat the Bible like you would any self-help book - look at the overall messages but don’t assume that every single line is applicable to your life or even holds meaning. 

This may seem counterintuitive or even like a “bad” thing to do, especially if you grew up in a taking-the-Bible-literal household, so I’ll give you some potential questions that may help you get into the mindset: 

Which messages are repeated often throughout the Bible? Which messages are repeated in most big religions you know? Which messages would come to your mind first if you were to teach a child about God? Which values or attributes describe God best? 

For me, and for many people, the biggest ones would be “God loves you unconditionally” and “God wants you to love others”. Another important one might be “God created you, and everyone else, because he wanted you to exist”. 

When you identified some big picture core messages, and are open to the idea that the Bible may not be meant to be taken literal in its entirety (for example because it was inspired by the Holy Spirit but written by humans and humans can make mistakes or add their own personal agenda, or also simply because it’s so old and over time some of its original teachings got mistranslated or lost), then you may be able to look at these seemingly hateful verses with new eyes - not seeking to find a more accurate explanation, but rather being able to compare them to those core messages and being able to say “this fits in with the core message” or “this doesn’t fit in with the core message”. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[wheelie-sick]

this is going to be a long post, it's kinda just me writing all my raw unfiltered thoughts on ABA therapy as someone who actually went through it

-> TW for ABA therapy, child abuse, suicide <-

I was functionally diagnosed with autism at the age of 3 but it wasn't until I was 13 that I was actually formally evaluated for it and given an official diagnosis. I was behind in social skills and developmental skills

[ID: "was also described as a sensory seeker. She does not currently have any friends and has struggled to make and maintain peer relationships throughout her childhood. Difficulties with social skills were initially noted when she was in preschool (years before the onset of clinically significant symptoms of anxiety and"]

[ID: "Social functions: [blank]'s mother also completed a questionnaire rating her social responsiveness. Her responses on the SRS-2 indicated that [blank] is demonstrating severe deficits in the areas of Social Communication (reciprocal social interaction and nonverbal and verbal communication), Social Motivation (motivation to engage in social-interpersonal behavior) and Social Awareness (perceiving social cues) and moderate deficits in the areas of Social Cognition (understanding social cues). Severe Repetitive and Restrictive Behaviors (stereotypical behaviors or highly restricted interests) were also reported. The total T-score on the SRS-2 indicates severe deficiencies in reciprocal behavior that are likely to result in interference in everyday social interaction"]

[ID: "%ile) are mildly impaired, while her social skills are moderately impaired (2nd %ile). By domain, demonstrates mildly to moderately impaired abilities in six adaptive skills areas, including self care (9th %ile), communication (5th %ile), home living (5th %ile), self-direction (2nd %ile), social (2nd %ile), and leisure (1st %ile)"]

and ultimately all this ended up with the number one recommendation after my autism evaluation being for ABA therapy.

[ID: "Recommendations: Based on the above results, the following recommendations are made for [blank] and her family.

1. ABA therapy: [blank] May benefit from an intensive treatment program to foster cognitive and communication skills, improve independence and adaptive functioning, and help manage interfering behaviors (i.e home-based, 1:1 instruction, task analysis, etc.) Most private and community programs are based on principals of operant conditioning and taught in home with 1:1 instruction"]

*I'm getting misgendered here. my pronouns are he/him

"operant conditioning"-- like a dog 🐕🐕. woof woof.

my mom didn't know any better so she put me in ABA therapy with the Center for Autism and Related Disorders. she regrets this. I regret this more.

my autism evaluation was cruel, it dissected all my flaws as if I was a bug under a microscope in a highschool laboratory. my evaluation was passed around to ABA therapists, a line of high schoolers peering through the microscope examining the most vulnerable parts of me.

and I choose the highschool analogy quite deliberately. most of the ABA therapists at my center were recent highschool graduates with no degree and little training. they knew nothing about autism and had no qualifications. you need more certificates to become a professional dog trainer than to become a professional human trainer.

"operant conditioning"

and I wish I could say it was just a poor choice of words but ABA therapy was dog training for children. my dad used to call me an "it" and somehow I felt less dehumanized by that than the entire experience I had in ABA therapy.

I was the oldest person at my center (I did not receive in home therapy) with the next oldest being approximately 3 years younger than me. at the time I felt babied. I was surrounded by 5 year olds and I was treated as if I was not just a 5 year old but an autistic 5 year old and anyone who has been a visibly autistic 5 year old knows what that feels like. I had escaped being an autistic child and now I was being treated like one again. The head of the program tried to console me by telling me adults received their services too.

[ID: "Following the principles of applied behavior analysis, CARD has developed a treatment approach for children and adolescents with"]

this was the first lie they told me. CARD does not work with adults.

I was not allowed the privileges of being a 13 year old. because I was an autistic 13 year old and therefore I was the equivalent of a 5 year old. I was in psychotherapy at the same time and I had grown very accustomed to some level of freedom in therapy. I was allowed to use the bathroom independently. in ABA therapy I was not allowed to use the bathroom independently. I tried once, me and my therapist were on an "outing" to the grocery store and I told my therapist I was going to the bathroom and walked off and I got a very stern talking to about how I needed to "stop eloping" and if I didn't stop it would "become a behavior"

eloping became a common theme used to control me and squeeze money out of my parents.

out of everything I hated in my life, including severe physical abuse at home (which they did not report), I hated ABA therapy the most. I would repeatedly make serious threats of suicide to try to get out of ABA. no one cared. everyone thought I was being dramatic but there were times I wrote out suicide notes and ABA was among the reasons I listed. ABA made me feel hopeless, depressed, revolting, disgusting, inferior, and less than human. between ABA, my home life, and my social life I had never felt so hated and it was boiling through my skin. I acted out, I was bullying people, I was behaving recklessly, I was starting fights, and all this only made the oppressive force of ABA crack down on me harder. I was a cat hissing in the corner begging to be left alone and ABA brought a net to try to tame me further. every time I scratched back it was listed as a reason I needed to be there.

I was "disruptive" and "rebellious" and "uncooperative" and "resistant to treatment" and no one could figure out why I was "regressing" despite me shouting the answer. I was screaming and no one was willing to hear me

I hated myself and my autism. my autism diagnosis made me want to die. I didn't feel freed by it or understood I felt ashamed and disgusted. I felt incompetent and like I had failed. I was ashamed to be at ABA, it was my biggest secret. I'd lie to my friends about why I couldn't hang out and I'd lie to people in public about who the woman I was with was and I'd lie about all of it to try to cover up my most shameful secret.

ABA therapy did nothing but foster this. In ABA therapy I was mocked for being autistic and what was happening only clicked when a young kid, maybe only 4 or 5, was flapping his hands and a therapist took out her phone and recorded him. we were circus animals. it was all an entertaining show to them while they poked and prodded at us with metaphorical hot irons to make us dance. the first time a therapist laughed at me for rocking back and forth I wanted to throw up. I almost did. it was systematic bullying of children I was forced to watch and experience.

my point is: the last place on earth I wanted to be was the ABA center.

so of course I tried to leave. my mom would bring me McDonald's and I'd beg, sobbing real tears, to leave early because only she could sign me out. every time I'd go to meet her I'd be marked as "eloping" and my hotel stay in hell would get extended.

my natural response to a stressful environment (leaving) was pathologized. I was eloping this way and that way and never once did I actually, truly elope. that word was a weapon used against me. they used my "elopement" to justify extending my stay to my parents. they ate it right up.

they argued I needed to stay there because I was making friends. this was true, I'm great at getting along with children it's part of why I want to go into pediatrics, but I had also made real friends with people my age at my highschool. ABA was getting in the way. I wanted to spend time with my friends outside of school but ABA took up all my time from the minute I left school to 6pm and all day on weekends. I was doing a full time job's worth of hours. I complained about how I was missing out on spending time with my real friends (as in, over the age of 7) and I was met with almost no wiggle room in my schedule. I was allowed to pre-plan time to spend with friends but every time my friend group wanted to do something spontaneously? I had to say no, and I had to lie about why. my friends would share stories about driving around town with 2 people in the group stuffed in the trunk, of hanging out in the woods together, of taking part in ordinary highschool activities as ordinary high schoolers and it made me cry because I was not an ordinary highschooler and I was not allowed to participate in ordinary highschool activities. I was one of those weird, unpleasant, socially awkward autistic people instead. eventually, they just stopped inviting me. I was forced into the out group by ABA.

I'll never get that back. I'll never get a chance to be a normal highschooler ever again.

when I did have time available to hang out with people I never had the energy to. at the time I was living with an undiagnosed physical disability and I was begging to see a doctor but no one would believe that it wasn't just anxiety. the people who believed me least of all were the people at the center.

I was constantly told I was trying to get out of therapy by "feigning" very real pain and fatigue. I tried to explain spoon theory, and that I had limited spoons, and in response they made a task for me to name things to "regenerate spoons" that's not how it works. I wasn't the only physically disabled person there. there was a wheelchair user who was constantly forced to stand for periods of time despite being in agony doing it. he wasn't allowed rewards until he did it.

rewards were used to train us like dog treats are used with dogs. sometimes the treats were fun! I'd get to cook, play Mario kart, and go on outings. other times the treats were "using the correct name and pronouns for me." I'd constantly be threatened with deadnaming and misgendering if I was being "noncompliant."

misgendering because of my autism was a theme in my life. my neuropsych evaluation report misgendered me. my parents misgendered me. the staff at ABA misgendered me. at one point the head of the program suggested that my "gender confusion" was because of my autism. my abusive father latched onto this and still claims that the reason I'm "confused" about my gender is because the evil transgenders tricked me into thinking I'm one of them because I'm autistic and therefore easily impressionable.

the two therapists I had were nice because I refused to work with the others. they weren't on a power trip and both eventually left because they realized the harm the organization was doing. other therapists were not so kind. other therapists were on a power trip, because in their mind lording over autistic 5 year olds (and autistic 14 year olds) makes them powerful and strong. occasionally I'd get stuck with one of the other therapists when my usual therapists were out. they would talk to me in a baby voice. they would make fun of me for rocking back and forth, for not making eye contact, for talking about Skyrim "too much" and generally just for being autistic.

I never really knew what I was supposed to be doing, just that I was doing it wrong. the therapists there rarely actually told me what my tasks were they'd just mark yes or no on them, judging me for something I wasn't aware of. I was never actually supposed to graduate, I was never supposed to get out, if they wanted me to succeed they would have taught and explained what was happening but I was intentionally left in the dark.

I continued threatening suicide to get out. no one took me seriously. I was seriously considering it. there's no happy conclusion where someone finally realized it was all wrong, or I figured out how to be allistic and graduated, or I felt more comfortable there. I only got out when covid struck and shut the center down. it's gone now, replaced by a family advice center. I hope their advice for autistic children is to never put them in ABA.

there is no grander message here just suffering. I'm sorry if you were expecting some sort of great point at the end of this. there's not one. it happened, I wish it didn't, and I hope no one else experiences what I did ever again.

okay to reblog