#possible tw for blood mention

[flowery-laser-blasts]

'Repo! The Genetic Opera' Kim Possible AU

The image below is a spoiler for the ending of the movie Repo! The Genetic Opera. If you don't mind spoilers (and a bit of blood) go ahead! :)

(Also warning for this movie is filled with body horror, blood and other adult themes so it's not everybody's cup of tea).

"And we will always have each other, in our time of need... Tina you're the world to me."

Based on the final act of the movie. Also note that this isn't a Kim x Drakken in any way. It's a father daughter parental relationship.

REPO-AU SYNOPSIS: James Possible and Drew Lipsky work at HenchCo. James' new bio tech could revolutionise the medical field in ways no one could imagine but something has gotten in the way. Jack Hench instructs Drew in private to kill James Possible and leave no witnesses, as to why is unknown but the reward would be "A cure for your dear wife's illness.". Drew, out of fear for Jack and the hopes of saving the life of his beloved wife Shego, accepts the order to kill his colleague and only friend. Unbeknownst to James, Drew is in actually the Repo-man; a hitman who brings in their 'test subjects' a.k.a. people who are overdue on their pay to Jack Hench.

That same night Drew breaks into the house and manage to assassinate James along with his wife Ann. He then hears a cry coming from one of the rooms. He finds a little baby girl crying in her crib. Drew can't get himself to harm her and makes the decision to take her in so he and Shego can raise her together. Once the bodies are taken care off, Drew brings the baby into his house only to find out that Shego has passed.

Heart broken and a puppet for Jack Hench. The only thing that keeps Drew from losing it is raising his daughter Athena (Tina for short), in secret. Keep her safe and sound. She's a constant reminder of his sins as the Repo-man.

Massive thank you to @gothicthundra for suggesting this movie to me. I enjoyed it thoroughly!! The characters, world building and music. It's just so good!!

Nathan is a tragic character and while watching the movie, him switching around and taking on his repo-man persona (and way of deranged singing at some parts) just inspired me... Had this WIP for months and months in my folders but got inspired because I've been looking up some similair themed stuff for work (no I'm not a hitwoman, I'm too clumsy for that). This is probably one of the rare occasions I make angsty stuff.

[inkblot22]

You Pull It Into Your Lungs

Tell me why I logged in to web today and my theme was no longer what I set it as?? Tumblr, please. I love you but we can't keep doing this. Anyhow, it's here! Part II of The Saltwater Beckons. Hopefully it makes sense, during this chapter I was just trying to set up a very obvious plot conflict for later.

This fic is for: anyone who can handle it! It is going to be more self-indulgent than my others, but I'm going to make a very serious effort to not describe any bits when we get to that point. While I myself am black, there are also no allusions to skin color (ex. "cheeks turned red/pink") in this either, although there could be.

TW for: injury, blood mention, bruises, lots of weird speculation about non-human sentient species, crude flirting (if you squint), some primal stuff but it's not written in a sexy way, Floyd and Jade Leech because they freak me out and I know I'm not the only one. They might be a bit OOC in this, I'm working on it.

The prefect was lucky that Floyd didn’t barge into the shower while they were ridding their body of saltwater and blood. The bite on their shoulder stopped bleeding after a bit of pressure. It was odd that it didn’t stop bleeding faster, like puncture wounds tend to, but it had already begun bruising, darker patches mottling the skin around the bite like some kind of warped galaxy picture. 

They sighed and got dressed, surprised to see Floyd, still wet, waiting boredly for them at the door of the natatorium.

“I thought you left.” They said, a cordiality underlying the bluntness.

His hair dripped on his collar  and he was leaning somewhat awkwardly on the doorframe, looking at them as though they’d told him the moon was made of cheese, “No. Let’s go.”

Floyd was walking a little strangely, stumbling every few steps and losing his balance, sort of like a toddler learning to walk. They watched for a moment, sort of confused.

“Are you… Why are you walking like that?”

“Shrimpy,” Floyd giggled, halting his movements so abruptly that it was unnatural and turning slightly to look at them. It was less of a beginning of a sentence and more of a warning. 

That primal part of their brain screamed. 

“Let’s just get you home and then you can keep trying to think.” He said, turning on his heel and walking. 

Over time, despite the journey from the natatorium to Ramshackle being short, he did improve in his gait, but it wasn’t until they remembered that he’d been in the water that they realized why he was having issues walking now.

They felt silly for not realizing earlier. 

Floyd opened the door to Ramshackle. The prefect never locked it when they went anywhere, since they didn’t have a key for the front door, and who locks a dorm building anyway? They walked up the stairs, took another shower to rid themself of the saltwater feeling, changed into their pajamas, then decided they wanted some tea. When they went downstairs, Floyd was still standing there, playing with various things in the living room.

The only sensible thing they could think of doing was screaming in terror and dashing around the corner. What was he still doing here?! They thought they were alone.

Floyd didn’t pursue, which was something of a surprise. From their spot in the hallway leading to several dust filled rooms, they heard Floyd’s lazy drawl.

“It’s cute how you wanna play, but I’m not in the mood for hide and seek right now. Come over here.” It was less of a request and more of an insistent statement. Not quite a demand. Almost there, though.

The prefect slowly exited their shoddy hiding spot and Floyd’s mismatched eyes were pinning them to the floor almost immediately. He smirked, breaking into a toothy grin as his eyes dragged up and down their form.

“Hmm. I don’t know why I thought you’d have sexier pajamas.” He said before turning back to the knick-knacks over the hearth. He plucked one of them up and looked at it curiously, “What’s this supposed to be?”

He threw it at them with his underhand. They narrowly dodged and the knick-knack made a heavy thunk as it dented the wood floor.

“You could have hurt me! And… I think it’s a whole avocado, but made of brass?” The prefect said, picking the heavy thing up. Crowley was gonna kill them if he ever noticed that spot on the floor. “And what do you mean, ‘sexier pajamas’?”

Floyd snickered as they got closer to him, sliding the brass avocado back onto the hearth. They looked up at him and he responded by slinging an arm around their shoulders.

“I dunno, Shrimpy,” he slurred, leaning far too close to their face as he hooked a finger in their shirt and yanked on it, “Land people are so uptight about wearin’ lots of clothes. The sexiest thing you could wear to sleep is nothing, like me.”

The prefect absolutely didn’t need to know this information. The revelation set a hot burn in their cheeks as their eyes widened, and Floyd spun them out of his grasp, giggling.

“Heehee… it’s so cute that Shrimpy is shy. Well, see ya.”

“Huh?”

“What, you want me to stay the night?”

“Oh! No.”

“Mmm-hmm. Grim’ll be back in the morning. Night.”

And with that, Floyd strolled out of the doors of Ramshackle. The prefect watched him go, grabbed a nice little midnight snack, then went back upstairs and slept.

Their dreams were fitful. The sting in their shoulder didn’t really ease as they woke up every few hours. The moonlight was blinding as they tried to sleep. Without Grim, it was too quiet. Perhaps it would be worth it to ask the ghosts to make some noise, but a glance at the clock revealed that it was around three, so they’d likely all be busy. It was a shame. Usually by now they’d be awake anyways because he had his claws out and was digging his feet into their back, mumbling in his sleep about how powerful he was. It was annoying, but it was familiar.

And familiar was not something they had often in this world.

~*~

The next day, as the prefect was wandering in the halls, lost as they tried to remember how to get to the mess hall, they bumped into a familiar chest.

“Oof!”

“Why, good afternoon, prefect. Where are your friends?” Jade smiled kindly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It never did.

“Oh, I stayed back so I could get my ‘special student work.’ Because I’m not magic.” They looked up at Jade, “They’re at lunch.”

“Oh, really?” He used that coddling tone he adopted with Floyd sometimes, “And why aren’t you with them?”

“I got lost.”

Jade laughed, somehow politely. His gloved hand curled into an elegant fist covered his lips as he giggled, eyes closed in mirth. The prefect laughed along for a moment and then began walking past him, and his eyes flashed open. He stared straight ahead for a moment, his brow furrowing ever so slightly before he grabbed the prefect’s arm and dragged them into a nearby empty classroom.

“Uh… Jade?” They mumbled. “What’s gotten into…?”

Jade hastily loosened their tie and ripped their shirt open, somehow without snapping any buttons off before he tapped his nose against the crook of their neck, taking in a deep draw of air.

Although merfolk, beastmen, and fae did not exist in their world, as far as it had been explained to them, things like this should not happen. They should not be getting pulled into an isolated place and… smelled. They very gently eased their hands onto Jade’s shoulders and he tightened his grip on their shoulders, enough to make them wince.

“Jade, what’s going on?”

Jade leaned up to his full height. He wasn’t smiling. His face had fallen into a very tense frown, and it made their blood run cold. He carefully tugged the clothing from their bitten shoulder off, sucked his teeth, then  buttoned their shirt and retied their tie. When he was done, he grabbed them by the upper arm and silently walked them to the mess hall. Once there, he turned to them and regarded them.

His smile twitched back into place and he sighed, “My brother. Heh. Always so hasty.”

“What?”

“Your friends are waiting for you, prefect. Enjoy your lunch.”

They walked in, as he said. Generally, the non-human interactions they had with their fellow students were benign, such as Grim falling asleep if they pet him for too long, or Leona’s voice being growly, but that… that was strange. The prefect took a seat with Ace, Deuce, and Grim, glancing at the doorway. 

Jade was no longer there, but the bite from Floyd somehow stung worse than the moment they got it.

[yharnamcrow]

Musharna Malice! A nightmare meant for another… or perhaps not a nightmare so much as the jagged fragments of a memory.

You’ve always wanted to visit the ocean. You were born and raised rather far inland, far enough inland that you spent most of your winters perpetually halfway frozen, and while you haven’t returned to your childhood home in a very long time—you can’t ever anymore, though you prefer not to think about that—the city of Yharnam isn’t exactly coastal either.

But Yharnam is home, in all its bloody glory, and you simply don’t have the time to travel beyond it often. Nights of the Hunt are long, and hard, and when those don’t occur there is always more work with Byrgenwerth in the catacombs.

You’ve always wanted to visit the ocean. So, when you heard about a special opportunity—a research expedition to a fishing hamlet—you’d signed on almost without hesitation. Almost, because Byrgenwerth is still Byrgenwerth and the fact that they were hiring as many blades as will sign in for a simple expedition didn’t bode well for the hostilities they anticipated finding there… but they were paying well, and you really do need the money.

So here you are. The scent of salt on the breeze is strong. There’s something else there, too, something you can’t quite put a finger on. Something unsettling.

You bury your unease and press on after your mentor, for his scythe is easy to pick out in a crowd of scholars and you’d generally trust him with your life. Though it’s interesting, thinking about it, that he signed on for this expedition. He certainly doesn’t need the money. 

Maybe they wanted him specifically?

You could ask. Maybe you will once your work here is done. There are too many strangers here, too many people who would hear an outsider’s accent and actively hinder you doing your job.

Sometimes, you hate Yharnam a little. But it is home.

And, honestly—as far as Yharnamite hospitality goes, you almost miss it compared to how this hamlet treats outsiders. They regard the entire party from Byrgenwerth with unconcealed suspicion, but if they bear weapons they are far more concealed.

You keep a hand on your own. A warning, nothing more and nothing less. The hamlet is strange, certainly, but its people are a far cry from the mindless foes you have faced down in the catacombs or the rabid beasts that result from the plague.

Not for the first time, not for the last, you wonder why Byrgenwerth wanted you. Why they wanted any Hunter. What are they expecting to find here?

The answer, as it turns out, is… not at all what you were expecting. There is a great something washed upon the shore from the water, half of it still drifting in the tide in a vague facsimile of life. Laying eyes upon it alone causes your head to ache—

No. Not it. 

Her.

Your newfound insight makes you all but certain that this is what Byrgenwerth is here for. And that her name—whatever she is, or was—is Kos.

One of the scholars starts forward. You are intimately aware of the villagers watching, of the murmured discontent. You risk a glance at your mentor. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the—off Kos. Or whatever may be left of her.

The scholar—you never caught his name, but he seems to be the leader of this group—looks back at you and Gehrman, sizing the both of you up. His gaze lands solidly on you. He motions you over, towards what you are growing increasingly certain is a body of… something.

You suppress a shiver, and move to join him.

“That sword of yours looks sharp enough,” he says, his voice high and nasally, and you’re disappointed but not surprised that he doesn’t know what a twinblade is. “You’ll do to make the incision.”

You are starting to think that you didn’t hear him correctly. The confusion must show in your eyes, because he suddenly looks much less forgiving.

“The incision,” he presses, speaking slowly as if addressing a child or someone particularly dumb. “A cut?”

You do not appreciate him insulting your intelligence.

“I am quite aware of what the word means,” you say in a low voice. “You could stand to be more precise in what it is you wish for me to do.”

He looks like you’ve hit him in the face. He must have recognized your accent. 

…You honestly wish you had hit him in the face. Unfortunately, you likely wouldn’t get paid then, and you really do need the money, so putting up with pretentious fools like him it is.

“A single lateral cut should do,” he says, after a long moment, and points. “Start there. Don’t go too deep, we need what is inside intact.”

You somehow doubt that he would be willing to tell you what is inside. You suppose you’ll see for yourself soon enough, though you really did not sign up to assist in dissection of… ocean creatures?

It doesn’t matter. You can certainly make the requested incision. You could likely do so in your sleep.

Your blade meets flesh. Rends it.

The screaming begins. It isn’t coming from your group. You wouldn’t be certain that you weren’t imagining it, except that scholar’s white-knuckled grip is on your arm—you hate him immensely—and he’s hissing, “Keep going!”

So you do. The flesh parts easily, too easily, beneath your blade. The scholar frees your arm, surges forward to peer at what has been revealed beneath it—

—and his body jerks back from the javelin that has erupted through his upper body. You gasp, looking up.

The hamlet’s inhabitants, arrayed about the cliffs above you, are the ones who were screaming. But they’ve stopped now. They all hold spears, save one, a man positioned at precisely the angle to be the one responsible for the scholar now choking on his own blood.

Your pistol is in your off hand immediately. You shoot without thinking.

A body falls from the cliffs. Everyone watches it fall, until it hits the beach below.

And then—

Then, it is chaos, for the entirety of the fishing hamlet is upon you. You draw your blade, splitting it into two, because you truly have no choice now. You must fight, or you will die. The foolish scholars under your protection will die.

You fight. 

Blood soon covers the strange viscera upon your blades already, so much of it that you have little hope of ever truly washing it away.

No one remains alive, save the Byrgenwerth group, by the time that the sun sets. The expedition leader’s second seems rather unconcerned about his superior’s murder, about the fact that the expedition’s ‘protection’ were tasked instead to slaughter an entire village. He seems even less concerned about the village. They’re less than human to him.

So, you realize, are you. But the past cannot be undone. The incision cannot be unmade. The dead cannot be unburied.

You catch a glimpse—only a glimpse—of the thing torn from Kos’s body. You couldn’t say what it looks like, because that glimpse alone is enough to make the dull pain in your head intensify to a crescendo the likes of which you have never felt before. You think it would hurt less if someone drove a stake through your skull.

But you know, now—you Know exactly what you have done. Exactly what you did it to.

That corpse should have been left well alone. It wasn’t. Now countless people—innocent and less so—lie dead because of you, and Byrgenwerth’s scholars are all too happy to dissect the ones you murdered for good measure. Almost like they’d planned on that all along. Almost like they’d intended to provoke them into attack, so that you—or someone else—would strike back.

When you leave the hamlet, blades still bloody despite your desperate, fervent attempts at cleaning them, you are not the same. You never will be the same again. Nor do you deserve to be.

(When you awaken in the real world, you can still faintly smell blood in the water. And for a moment—but only a moment—you can almost see fresh blood on your hands.)

Th at... oh goodness... my sweet friend, is that... is that why? I s that why you were gone?

[ohnoesoesmalo]

Kedamono no kao wa...okaasan ni datta yo.

[savrenim]

okay so. I don't actually know that much about video games / everything I remember is from tumblr osmosis but it has been driving me crazy that between

the layout of the submersible is literally just a single tube

it has one window on one end of the tube and a computer screen with imaging on the other??? I think???

the people inside were bolted in on the surface. there is no hatch. the only way out is getting the thing back to the surface and undoing the bolts

it is steered by a fucking x-box controller

is. is this not just literally the setup of iron lung. did these people not pay $250k apiece to. to literally be in the iron lung submersible. why do I not see anyone else freaking out about this.

[dreamsofalife]

"Did you know that the venom of the Russell's Viper actually coagulates human blood? They've demonstrated it before in a controlled environment, it turns the stuff into a big clot. Most of the time though, what kills you isn't the blood clotting, it's septicaemia or renal failure, and that can take up to two weeks if you're unlucky enough to linger that long!"

"The snake that causes the most human fatalities, though, is the Saw-Scaled Viper, due to its aggressive behavior and human encroachment on its territory, as well as the width of its range and the fact that most bites occur in areas with little or no availability of antivenom. When it comes to potency, the most deadly venomous snake is the Inland Taipan, but because it lives far into the Outback and is relatively shy and docile, very few if any human fatalities occur!"

"Isn't that neat?"

[pipervonviper]

RAHH AZMIEL ART!!!

Btw if you read the text it's basically his twin sister Nyana's thoughts when she found him like this :3

[viktoriamagrey]

So in Heisuke's route Sannan's blood is so yummy filthy it can straight up turn others into Rasetsu, right? When they drink it? If it works completely mechanically, that means... I could bite Sannan and lick the blood off his arm with the same results? For science?

[fourteentheart]

So Miqo has definitely told Gaius about what happened to Quintus. Probably warned him they had not cleaned up the scene yet, too. I’ve been wondering how Gaius would react to it during their first trip to Garlemald to help with restoration efforts... Funny enough, one will have to know and accept the following headcanons: 1) Gaius grows out his facial hair sometimes and 2) he wears a northsea coat custom made at Miqo’s request lol

“Did you know him?”

“No.” In a way, I knew him very well.

[wolfasketch]

Ohmigosh, actual Elle lore!!

Needed info, Elle's mutation came about due to an oozesquitoe flying into her room and her human-bio father worked at a zoo, mainly around aquatic and reptilian enclosures.

So, when Elle woke up one night to get herself some water, I imagine she'd need more after being mutated, it shouldn't come as a shock she screamed when she saw a reflection of herself. Hearing the scream, her parents came to check what was wrong and was horrified to see some sort of fish monster in their house. Elle tried to sell comfort from her parents, but was turned away by a kitchen knife to the arm. After that, she didn't need to be told twice to run from her home.

[helaenasaegon]

Does anyone else suspect that Aegon may have poisoned himself?

[noonbeam17]

chunky yellow blood

i sat here staring at this ask for 10 minutes. what was i supposed to answer it with. a sassy zinger? that one part of the studio c crayon sketch that i last saw like 3 years ago but still remember basically the exact wording of that part? "kill yourself [jokingly]"? guppo? her blood is in fact yellow btw. idk about chunky though. i was so baffled that all i could do was just Look At It. anon turned on. no capitalization. no punctuation. and the sunglasses of the anon to top it all off.

but just in case you sent this ask for blorbo bingo:

[erabundus]

anonymous &&. said... My dear little puppet, a birdy told me of your relationship with kaedehara and that beautiful scarf he gave you. Don't you think it would be such a shame if something were to happen to him like what happened with dear sweet Niwa. I have heard his heart is pure and full of life. ~the doctor

the  wanderer  stood,  his head bowed, a LONELY FIGURE  accentuated  against  an  ugly,  endless expanse of roiling gray clouds.  he  didn't  move;  his  chest  had  long  since  ceased  its  steady  ( habitual ) rise  and  fall  the  moment  indigo  gaze  settled  heavy  upon  the  apotheosis  of  all  his  LOATHING.  what  a  farce.  did  the  doctor  forget  so  easily  that  he  had  plenty  of  experience  getting  under  people's  skin?  picking  at  flaws,  exposing  weaknesses,  transforming  what  one  held  dear  into  a  blade  between  their  shoulders  —  they  were  such  fundamental  manipulation  tactics,  he  couldn't  help  but  feel  INSULTED  having  them  turned  on  him.

the wind was howling.

what  started  as  a  gentle  breeze  swiftly  grew  louder  with  every  subsequent  word  out  of  the  doctor's  mouth  —  until  (  by  the  time  he  finished  )  it  threatened  to  drown  him  out  entirely.  it  was  like  a  chorus  of  a  dozen  ghostly  voices,  all  shrieking  in  agonized  fury  as  they  barreled  towards  a  (  painful  )  crescendo.  the  sky  above grew  dark,  as  if  to  herald  a  rising  storm.  yet  still,  the  wanderer  did  not  move.  even as his scarf dragged in the wind. even  as  the  gale  battered  him  with  enough  force  to  topple  someone  twice  his  size.  even  as  an  errant  gust  of  concentrated  anemo  sliced  across  his  cheek.  BLOOD  dripped  a  thin  line  down  the  side  of  his  face  —  the  wound it stemmed from  quick  to  close;  testament  to  that  wretched  durability gifted by the god of eternity.

it was then, and only then, that ren finally raised his head.

his  eyes  GLOWED,  two  pinpricks  of  blue  glaring  (  as  wide  as  they  were  hateful  )  from  beneath  his  hair.  they  cast  strange  shadows  across  his  features  —  turning  something  soft,  something  beautiful  into  the  mask  of  a  wrathful  DEITY.

the wind was howling.

❝  shut  the  FUCK UP.  ❞  in  contrast,  his  voice  was  clear;  the  gale  seeming  to  rise  and  fall  in  tandem,  as  though  they  were  one  in  the  same.  stupid.  stupid. stupid.  stupid  of  him  to  get  worked  up  over  this.  stupid  of  him  to  get  close  to  kaedehara.  stupid  of  him  to  believe  he  could  have  anything,  anything  in  this  world  without  it  crumbling  apart  in  his  worthless  hands.  even  so,  even if he was completely irredeemable, ren  knew  he  wasn't  incapable  of  learning  from  his  MISTAKES  —  the  past  couldn't  be  changed,  but  it  could  be  made  to  never  repeat.  he  wasn't  about  to  let  one  of  niwa's  blood  fall  victim  to  that  man's  sadistic machinations.  not  again.  never  again.

❝  do  not  presume  you  have  any  right  to  talk  like  you  OWN  ME.  ❞  ren  ground  out  through  his  teeth.  ❝  my  strings  were  cut  a  long  time  ago.  since  you're  such  a  gossip  these  days,  i  thought  you  would  have  known  that.  ❞  redirect.  distract.  provoke. this was his fight, his personal demon; let him shoulder the BURDEN and go for the throat.

❝  kaedehara is  just  another  human.  nothing  more,  and  nothing  less.  do  you  think  you're  being  CLEVER?  ❞  the wanderer  tilted  his  head  and  arched  a  condescending  brow.   ❝  his  name  is  only  in  your  wretched  mouth  because  you  assume  that  is  all  it  takes  to  get  a  rise  from  me ...  you're  becoming  awfully  predictable,  doctor.  ❞

he raised his hands. the wind howled — then coalesced into anemo swirling around his wrists.

❝ ... i'm going to enjoy FLAYING you alive.  ❞

[skreebs]

I will not be satisfied until I am dripping and covered in red

Minor distractions keep me alive

17 chalases full to the brim

Crimson red seeping from my skin

Blood trophy

[abstractscreach]

U know, I do appreciate some spooky artistic inspiration, but perhaps not when I’m trying to make something to post on splatoon please.

[camzverse]

(guy whos normal about blood voice) yeah idk i just dont think the blood shouldve come out that way when william got springlock failured. the blood wouldve been more like spewing out from the puncture holes. it just wouldnt have looked like how they depicted it. plus the holes in the suit arent THAT large i think most of the blood spatter wouldve hit the inside of the suit. just generally u wouldnt be able to see all that blood. it still wouldve been as if not more bloody u just wouldnt be able to see it all. the mechanics of the blood in that scene just dont make perfect sense to me. But then again i have yet to see anyone get springtrapped irl so who am i to say 🤷