#tw bodily mutilation

[sopranoentravesti]

Man periodically I think about the people who supported the Ashley X treatment and wish them a very die.

(Un)friendly reminder that bodily autonomy is a disability rights issue as well as a trans and feminist issue.

[uncanny-tranny]

If you think a transphobe will differentiate between, for instance, a trans person getting masculinizing top surgery and a cis person getting a mastectomy because of breast cancer, you are fundamentally misunderstanding how transphobia and even misogyny impacts everybody. If you think there is a way to be anti-bodily autonomy toward trans people in a way that won't impact everybody's access to bodily autonomy, you are fundamentally misunderstanding what bodily autonomy means, and what it looks like to have that threatened. This isn't a mere matter of disagreement. This is, again, a fundamental problem.

You can not suppress trans people's access to bodily autonomy in a way that excludes all cis people and includes all trans people.

[jacksepticeye-simp]

Perfection (Part 2 of 'Beautiful')

!TW, IMPLIED BODILY MUTILATION!

"What the hell have you done to me?" You screamed, getting off the table you had previously been restrained to. However, as soon as you got up, your legs gave way beneath you. Google quickly caught you in his arms and sat you down on a chair. "I told you, I made you beautiful. Here, look." He said, handing you a mirror. You couldn't believe it. Your eyes widened in shock as you saw the reflection of yourself in the mirror. You had been turned into an IRL. "Why would you do this to me?!" You yelled. Google merely smiled warmly, "I did this because I love you. You're flawless now, you're perfect. As a human, you were full of flaws that would destroy you. You deserve to be something better, to be upgraded. So I made you like me." Google explained casually, taking your now cold and metallic hands into his own. "You should be thankful. Now you can see things my way and together, we're going to destroy the humans and rule over the new world." He said, kissing the back of your hand. His eyes now glowed an electric blue, a sadistic smirk forming on his lips. You felt your body tremble as you looked into his cold eyes. You couldn't let him do this. "You mean kill everyone? Hell no!" You shouted, glaring at Google. "Fine, don't help me. But you can't stop me. I'm stronger than you'll ever be." He cackled menacingly, and before you could react he had wrapped you in a powerful grip. He sneered and said, "Nothing can stop me now." He stepped back and laughed. "You're a fool for thinking you can stand up to me. I'll do as I please and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Once I return, I'll make sure to fix a few bugs in your programming. I'm sure by then you'll be more than willing to help me and rule with me." He spun on his heels and walked out of the room, shutting the door and locking it, leaving you alone and horrified. You stood there, unsure of what to do. You were scared, but determined to find a way out. You knew you had to find a way to stop him before it was too late.

[justyourtypicalwriter]

Okay, okay, okay SO: Kyle in the sled dog au gets harassed. Like BIG TIME.

I’d like to think of it as people found out he was a were-dog (is it were-dog if the shifts are controlled?) during his senior year. He found this little stream in the woods and likes to shift into his dog form play around it. He found it with Stan and it makes him really happy. Then shit hits the fan in September a few days before the first day of senior year and some kids in his grade see him shifting. At this point were-dogs are certainly NOT openly accepted. So school starts up and so does the harassment. At first it’s just stupid teen drama stuff like graffitied locker or posters hung around school, which Kyle could care less about. It turns to verbal threats of harm around late November/early December and the most it does is Piss Kyle off. He’s just kind of sick of it at this point and doesn’t see what the big deal is. Around mid to late January it switches to physical attacks, probably one to two people at a time just picking fights with (or jumping?) him. Kyle chooses not to say anything about it as he fairs pretty well in these scuffles. HOWEVER, you know I gotta fuck our boy up a bit more. At the start of May all this little pairs of people gang up together to attack him after school. Forcing him down and taking turns beating him or burning him with cigarettes. And just a reminder this is all for being a were-dog which wasn’t his decision. They also thought it was a funny little idea to slice and carve words into his skin with pocket knives with the main things being written along the lines of mutt as well as other crude things. To say it spooks Kyle is a drastic understatement. The poor thing just sits there behind the school frozen in shock for hours until Kenny and Tolkien (they’re also were-dogs) find him and take him to Stan’s as they know his parents aren’t home. Kenny helps patch Kyle up (he’s fucking SKILLED at medical shit. But there’s a darker reason for it, I’ll make another post about that) before him and Tolkien leave. Kyle is absolutely silent throughout this whole thing which is a big marker that he’s really upset. The whole situation is really taking a toll on him and as much as I love Sheila, she’s not much help. I typically don’t write things where Sheila is purposely harmful to her children, this is purely just her being so overbearing she’s doing a lot psychologically to Kyle who already isn’t doing the best mentally. It’s the typical overbearing parent stuff: “how could you be stupid enough to let this happen”, “I thought you were smarter then that”, “hiding that this was happening? It’s like I don’t even know you”. Just lots and lots of berating as well as yelling and Kyle just can’t cope. His grades drop, he shuts down in large crowds, he’s just detached from reality. And he ends up dropping out. Kyle doesn’t graduate in this au. I honestly think this is the final straw for Stan and he makes the decision to follow through on the dog sledding stuff and he tells Kyle who’s just eager to get out of South Park and this is the perfect opportunity to.

[recklessfiction]

Favorite horror book?

More of a thriller/horror but Last Days by Brian Evenson. I describe it as John Wick but everything gets considerably worse. It’s a very fun read!

[senkuplushie]

Doctober--Prompts 2+3!!

        The prompts for this one were Haunted and Stone! I decided to combine them because I was struggling to come up with ideas for either one of them alone. There is a teeeensy bit of sengen, but it's very minor (Gen gets rejected, anyway), and the scene with it ends pretty quickly--it's literally so insignificant that you could skip it and you wouldn't really miss anything from the plot, if you aren't a fan of the ship; it's really just to help the story flow a little better. Also, feel free to make fun of my inability to write a paragraph longer than two lines, lmao

        TRIGGER WARNINGS: Blood, what probably counts as bodily mutilation (?), dismemberment, angsty, implied symptoms of PTSD, sorta implied suicidal thoughts near the end (?)

        It was a shame nobody yet knew the truth of the petrification. Senku's clever theories weren't entirely false, but there was another aspect to it which nobody seemed to notice.

        What emerged from the stone prison wasn't truly a person's whole being.

        Gen knew it must have been terrible when he heard the scientist, someone who was normally so composed and seemingly unemotional, choke repeatedly on his own words.

        Truthfully, the mentalist didn't have the slightest idea of what had happened. The only thing he'd managed to take from the villagers' panicked screaming was that someone--a woman, if he remembered correctly--had been hurt in some manner. Considering the way almost everyone in the village seemed to be gathered around the hut, Gen assumed the injuries must've been severe. As it turned out, "severe" was quite a bit of an understatement.

        Unaware of what he was about to see, Gen made his way through the small crowd and curiously poked his head into the doorway.

        Now, Gen was never an incredibly squeamish person. Prior to the petrification event, he didn't even mind watching or reading a bit of bloody horror every once in a while. Seeing something so gut-wrenching directly in front of him, though, was obviously a different story.

        Lying on the center of the floor was whom Gen believed was Ruby, albeit with multiple wide gashes across her stomach.

        Gen understood why everyone he'd seen was so confused and panicked. The slashes looked as if they were inflicted by a wild animal--one with vicious claws. Having such a dangerous creature close to such a primitive village was reasonably terrifying.

        Unsurprisingly, Senku had already crouched down beside the body and begun to observe it. The scientist seemed so much less shaken that everybody else, as always, but even he was visibly concerned.

      "Looks like an animal did it. I can't find evidence of anything else at the moment," he spoke more steadily. "Thing is, I can't see how something big enough to do this kinda damage wouldn't have woken either of you. It doesn't make sense that it would've just killed her and left you two alone, either."

        "I never h--I never even heard... her scream...!" one of the other sisters cried out as Senku turned his attention to her.

        Sapphire's response only intensified the anger among the crowd. The latter had begun to jeer at her, accusing the two remaining sisters of using sorcery to summon an evil creature of some sort. Even a few of the children had joined in, though most of them merely clung to their parents' arms out of fear.

        Gen didn't show much of a reaction, though such a sight definitely shook him quite a bit. He didn't hesitate to walk away as soon as his legs felt somewhat less shaky.

        It was rather sad these people had not the slightest idea their village, their world, their lives, were all about to unravel directly in front of their eyes.

        Night by night, at least one person--occasionally two--was torn apart in an increasingly vicious manner. Villagers were dropping like flies, and within two weeks, dangerously close to half of the population had suffered a similar fate to that of poor, innocent Ruby. Even Senku couldn't find a single clue of why this was happening.

        "Heh... How exhilarating. Yet another phenomenon to figure out," Senku chuckled, that usual bit of fascination in his carmine eyes.  "Except this one is even more urgent, and therefore even more exciting."

        The mentalist inhaled sharply. Sure, everyone was on edge, but it still wasn't a great time to snap--especially when close to your entire personality was built around being an emotionally stable and reliable source of advice and intel.

        "I must say, dear Senku, people are being ruthlessly torn apart by the day... and you're seriously taking advantage of the predicament--by making it into a fun little puzzle for your own enjoyment, even worse?"

        Gen's amused expression heavily contradicted the veins that throbbed in his neck. Regardless, he continued to give Senku his famous "television smile", as he didn't plan on putting any more pressure on neither himself nor the other. 

        Though, of course... If either Senku or Gen were unlucky enough to end up being one of the victims of that night, it's not like any of that would've mattered in the slightest.

        "You seriously think I'm thrilled about the deaths? I'm interested in the actual mystery, dumbass. It's just like the petrification; I'm not overjoyed that the fucking entirety of humanity was turned to stone. I'm just intrigued by everything we don't know about it yet."

        "I'm aware of that part, but..." Gen held back a scowl as Senku casually turned around to face his desk. "My point is, you're practically disregarding these deaths as if they're nothing to you. I know y--I know you're not an emotional person, not by any means, but you haven't shown a little bit of sympathy after... what is it... at least twenty deaths? Of completely innocent people?"

        The aforementioned scientist breathed a sigh of exasperation while pulling his gloves a bit further up his arms. "Look, I get it; I know it's a tragic thing--I did bond with some of them and feel some of that sappy shit--but do you really expect me to sit around all the time, sulking and bawling, when we need to get a metric ton of things done? How am I supposed to figure any of this out to prevent any more of these murders when I'm so distraught that I can hardly think?"

        "I never said a word about you having to sit around and cry! You just never seem to give a shit about any of those poor people...!" Gen quipped, unknowingly allowing a hint of irritation to slip into his voice.

        "Did you not hear any of what I said? I do feel some of that stupid grieving shit. I just--"

        "Yes, I did! It's just that I haven't seen you look upset for even a second! You've been so insensitive to everyone, and..."

        Gen's voice faltered as he began to take notice of how still Senku stood; even his hands didn't dare to move a single millimeter. Not until then did the elder of the pair realize how strong his words might have been.

        Suddenly much more aware of how much he had allowed his irritation to control him, the mentalist let out a deep breath which he had no idea he was even holding. His shoulders sunk a bit as he stepped closer to the inventor. Though, before he could say a word, Gen felt his heart drop at the sudden sound of Senku slamming his hand onto the table.

        "Well, maybe that wouldn't be the case if people wouldn't act like the world is ending whenever I show a trace of emotion! I can't even sigh without people freaking out about how something's gotta be terribly wrong!" Senku blurted, doubling Gen's anxiety.

       "..." A soft sigh made its way past Gen's lips as his sympathy began to show through. "I know, dear Senku. It's not good for any of us to push away our emotions, but... It really does feel necessary sometimes, doesn't it?"

       "Obviously," replied Senku, that unchanging bit of annoyance in his voice.

       For just a fleeting moment, Gen could spot a glisten in his eyes, and the former only began to feel even worse about what he'd said. A part of him instinctively wanted to apologize, but he knew very well such things meant virtually nothing to someone like Senku.

       Gen began to stare at the floor in embarrassment, but the very first thought in his head was telling him to avoid doing anything of the sort. At that point, dropping his act of fake confidence felt like exposing himself to the entire world. Letting a single person see him vulnerable made the mentalist wonder if he was just setting himself up to be taken advantage of in some manner. However, he knew one of the best ways to make another person--Senku, in this case--feel safe and unthreatened, was to appear as if he himself felt secure and content with being vulnerable.

       "Well?" the scientist eventually spoke with his arms crossed impatiently. "Well, are you gonna get out of here now? Or are you just gonna keep standing there and distracting me?"

       The older of the two sighed again. "I'm not leaving yet, dear Senku. I know you'll start overworking yourself again the moment I do."

       "Fine, but if you aren't gonna let me work, then the least you can do is stay quiet."

       After a moment of hesitation, Gen nodded silently. The last thing he wanted was to bother Senku any more than he already had, so he merely began to lean against the wall beside him and pick at his fingernails.

       Senku sat back down in front of the table and laid his head on his arms, though he appeared anything but relaxed. Unsurprisingly, he began to look as if he was thinking deeply about something important--most likely the murders, Gen supposed. The latter couldn't help but watch him with a bit of fascination; Gen found it interesting to observe the thought processes of such an intelligent man. A genius such as Senku couldn't have thought of all his unique solutions and inventions by simply considering something for a moment, after all.

       For the most part, Senku's expression didn't change. All he seemed to do was occasionally glance at Gen to see if he was still standing in the same spot. He didn't say a word, either--at least, not until almost ten minutes had passed, and Gen had forgotten that Senku could see him.

       "Damn it, mentalist, what is it?"

       Gen continued to stare at him, genuinely confused. "Hm?"

       Senku facepalmed. "Why the fuck have you been staring at me for the past ten minutes and twenty-four seconds? Do you have something to say? Just spit it out already."

       "...No."

       The mentalist obviously wasn't going to speak of it, but what Senku said had given him an idea--a very unfortunate one which Senku would have definitely deemed illogical.

       Mimicking Gen's previous sighs, Senku exhaled heavily. "Well, shit, Gen. What happened to your lying abilities? Are you sure that you aren't just a nervous schoolgirl wanting to confess to me behind the school building?"

       Gen gulped. Damn it, he knew dropping his act for even a minute was risky.

       "Absolutely not," he replied a bit more firmly as his gaze began to return to that of Senku's. "I don't have the slightest idea of what would make you think something so silly."

       The scientist quirked a brow. "Really?"

       "..." Gen went nearly dead silent again, uncertain of how to respond with more than a barely-audible "yes". A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his cheek, which had already flushed a deep pink.

       "Fine, fine," Senku snickered. "But you obviously have something to say, mentalist. It's starting to piss me off, watching you stand there like an anxious little kid without saying anything."

Of course, Senku wasn't wrong--not at all. That one stupid idea had made Gen unbelievably tempted to tell him everything. As difficult as it was to believe, Gen could think of a few benefits to doing so; although, they were obviously outweighed by the downsides.

        Gen stirred a bit where he stood, knowing damn well that there was close to no positive outcome of him admitting it. All he could imagine was how much awkwardness, embarrassment, and even pain it was almost certainly going to cause for both him and the scientist. Regardless, Gen's racing heart and brand-new impulsivity ended up getting the best of him as he ever-so-quietly said, "...Fine. Yes, I love you, Senku-chan. I have for an etty-pray long time now."

        Senku's reaction was... surprising, to say the least.

        "...Tch."

        For at least a minute, Senku reverted to being completely silent. He didn't move, nor did he look even slightly upset--in fact, there was such a lack of any emotions in his expression that it was a bit concerning. One could even say he was acting like he'd never heard the other speak about the topic which he seemed so disgusted and annoyed by.

        In fact, he had begun to look rather relaxed and purely unemotional.

        Too unemotional.

        Much too unemotional--even for someone so composed and logical.

        Gen couldn't help but notice that Senku seemed... empty, in a way. No, not "empty" in the same manner as some were--not devoid of love and hope as a result of past trauma, nor borderline-nihilistic as a result of what people often referred to as "the cruelty and selfishness of society". Rather, he seemed to be literally hollow, much like a porcelain doll or a statue.

        The mentalist gulped. He knew how strongly Senku felt about the subject of romance, but he had no idea that hearing about it would have practically petrified him again.

        "Oh... My apologies," Gen spoke as he stepped back from Senku and avoided his unblinking, unfeeling eyes. "I didn't know you were that awkward about it, my dear Senku."

        For a moment, the younger continued to stand still and stare off into the middle of nowhere. He seemed to snap out of it rather quickly once Gen began to approach him, much to the mentalist's relief. Senku began to smile surprisingly warmly, the two locks of hair that hung over his face blowing slightly to the left as a result of the wind that blew in from the doorway, as he stepped closer to Gen and chuckled quietly. The latter laughed, thanks to a combination of anxiety and semi-humorous surprise.

        Senku then quietly asked him, "Seriously, though? You really aren't playing some kinda prank on me, Gen? 'Cuz that seems like something that a guy like you would do."

        His smile only grew as he watched the blush on Gen's face deepen.

        "Yes, dear Senku. That was..." Gen stammered a bit, worried that he might've made himself too vulnerable again. "...That was, indeed, one of my rare moments of honesty. I-I mean, I know saying that just makes me sound even more suspicious, but--"

        "I get it," Senku interrupted while impatiently tossing his lab gloves to the side.

        Grinning, he lightly patted Gen's shoulder in what the latter could only assume was an attempt at being reassuring, though it felt a bit forced and almost encroaching. "Heh... now, this is just perfect."

        Perfect? A spark of hope lit a tiny, figurative fire in Gen's chest. How could he be happy about this...? There's no way he could feel the same way about me. He's too busy, he finds it illogical, and he'd never confess to it in such a dire situation.

Regardless, Gen kept his voice calm and steady, not wanting to break character again--much less so in front of someone whom he had just made himself so possibly susceptible to.

        "Oh?" he uttered, a small smile finding its way back onto his lips. "Perfect? And why would that be?"

        "Because, Gen..."

        It wasn't until now that the aforementioned mentalist noticed how the scientist's eyes seemed to glow just a bit more brightly than they typically did--even in the almost pitch-black darkness of midnight.

        It wasn't until he felt a stabbing pain tear through his back that he realized how swiftly Senku moved, or how his nails seemed to have grown at a rate no real human's possibly could have.

        "Such feelings of 'love' tend to cause illogical thinking..."

        Gen drew in a sharp breath, yet before he could've had a chance to process the pain he'd just felt, something had aggressively dug into his abdomen. The last thing he managed to clearly see was Senku's vicious smile before tears of both shock and pain blurred his vision. The last thing he managed to see at all was a pale, blurry shape which he could only assume was his own arm before the weapon sliced across both of his widened eyes.

        "...and, therefore, vulnerability."

        Hardly even a squeak managed to escape Gen's mangled throat as he unwillingly allowed himself to be torn apart in such a ruthless manner, completely powerless to stop it--and to make it even worse, it was all by the man whom he deemed his closest friend. He found it unbelievable that his heart continued to beat through it all. Or, at least, he would have if his mind wasn't clouded so heavily with agony. That wasn't going to be the case for too much longer, of course.

        "These idiotic village people, even the ones that are supposed to be 'modern'... They're all so fucking stupid and gullible. I almost can't believe this dumb one's still holding on."

        As Senku walked away, the only thing the mentalist (although, there was no way he was going to consider himself such a thing after being so clueless) could do was weakly gasp for air. At that point, it wasn't something he did voluntarily; in fact, Gen would've strongly preferred to put an end to it entirely. It was merely something his brain forced his body to do, even when it had already been put through hell and simply wanted to give out forever.

        Just let me die already... I'm too weak for any of this...

-----------

        "Agh, what the fuck-?"

        The scientist rose his head wearily, though the soreness in his neck gave him the strong urge to flop back down and fall back asleep. In fact, close to his entire body was aching so badly that it felt as if he had just run an entire marathon. It likely didn't help that for a reason currently out of Senku's comprehension, he'd woken up on the ground in one of the most uncomfortable positions he could ever imagine.

        As his half-lidded eyes scanned the area, Senku realized he was almost directly behind the lab. Only a brief moment later did he pick up on an all-too-familiar smell that came from it.

        Senku felt his stomach turn. In the past few days, he'd already seen more than enough gore to last him a lifetime. He was never a squeamish person beforehand, but thanks to the trauma-inducing things he'd witnessed recently, the scientist felt as if seeing one more drop of blood was going to make him vomit on the spot. Of course, he was aware that it was going to be impossible to avoid seeing at least a bit of gore on his journey to restore humanity, so he knew he'd have to deal with this problem somehow.

        In an attempt to ignore both his fear the rancid smell of what he just knew had to be a rotting corpse, Senku attempted to reflect on the previous night's events, wishing to know what had made his muscles so sore and exhausted. So... Gen got pissy with me, we resolved it, he confessed to me in the lab like a middle school girl, I turned him down not-so-subtly, I went to bed because I was exhausted as fuck... and... His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of a shiver running down his spine, which caused the inventor to realize he wasn't even wearing the outer layer of his coat while lying in at least one centimeter of snow.

        Though, before Senku could decide to try and find the aforementioned item, he felt his heart lurch as he made an awful connection in his mind.

       "...Gen!"

        Appalled by the possibility of one of his closest friends being the previous night's kill, Senku jumped up as quickly as he could manage and took off toward the front of the laboratory.

        Needless to say, his suspicions were confirmed quite quickly. The moment Senku entered the building, he was met with the sight of a heavily mutilated corpse which he could hardly even tell was once Gen.

        Senku hadn't even eaten a crumb since he'd woken up, yet he was still greeted by the familiar feeling of food stirring in his stomach. Just as everyone had expected, the murders were obviously becoming more and more gruesome--not to mention crueler and more meticulous--every night. Yes, the previous killings had been more than disgusting and excessively filthy enough, but this... It was something indescribable, to say the least. 

        As the scientist slowly made his way to what was once Gen, the only thing that prevented the former from fleeing and leaving it for someone else to discover was the feeling of shock seemingly nullifying almost everything he felt. The sight of the mentalist's wide-open eyes, yet devoid of any life, staring at him in terror was becoming too much for even Senku to handle. Although, regardless of the lump in his throat, he proceeded to kneel down beside Gen as he began to examine his visible injuries.

        Though, there wasn't much left of Gen to observe. The disregarded extremities and multiple organ-like masses lying around him were quite a reasonable explanation of why that was the case.

        It wasn't much longer until the feeling of sickening nausea became too strong for Senku to handle, however. Normally, he would have tried his best to push it aside and stay focused, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to be capable of walking even semi-steadily soon enough. As much as he wanted to act like seeing Gen in such a state had no effect on him, Senku knew that continuing to push himself was an awful idea.

        "Gen..."

      Gah... I'll just go tell someone about it, I can't deal with this shit right now...

        Despite Senku's typically stoic attitude, he couldn't help but look at the gruesome sight with a bit of pity as he shakily stepped away. It wasn't until he stumbled around the corner that he noticed something which somehow happened to be even worse. Directly outside of the laboratory was the outer layer of his own coat, which had been tied messily around his waist the previous night, splattered with blood.

------------------

        Gah, this ended up being so rushed… especially the conversation and attack scenes T__T I know there's no way Gen would've allowed himself to crack that easily, let alone when it comes to that sort of information, but I've somehow been working on this trash for a month and was desperate to get something done, lmao. There's an infuriating number of plot holes, too, and the ending is somehow even worse, but I'm struggling to care right now, lol

[solarsodas]

psychic attack on my hog

[keirawantstocry]

Thought about your pac and tubbo giving fit their blood ficlet while also thinking about tubbos corpse and now I can't stop thinking about pac cutting open tubbos corpse so he can keep tubbos heart with him. Anyway

your mind. gasped and dropped everything as soon as I saw this

TW FOR GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF MUTILATION OF A CORPSE

Pac coped with grief in a strange way, he knew that. Sometimes he thought it was a result of everything that had happened in his past but sometimes he just figured that it was who he was. After the initail wave of sadness hit him, it seemed clear to him what he should do.

Fit stood above him as he kneeled over Tubbo's corpse, sword in hand. The first slice slid through the meat of his chest like butter.

Carefully he peeled back the flesh to expose the cavity of the corpse's chest. Silently he held his hand up to Fit would handed him a tool they had crafted just for this interaction. Pac snapped the ribs one by one until there was enough room to wiggle his hand inside. They both made no comment at the squelch of blood and splatters of bodily fluid.

Pac was pulling his hand back out, firmly grasping the still cold heart of the man he loved. Fit held out a jar and Pac carefully lowered the heart inside of it.

"And he thought we would abandon him," Fit said softly, staring at the heart now encased in glass.

Pac shook his head as he pulled out a sewing kit to sew the man's chest back together. "He will be a part of us forever. We, in every sense, hold his heart in our hands."

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Hehe not to b horny in ya ask box but I just KNOW that despite all of the scarring and mutilation, Yves body is TEA!! like I imagine that he somewhat has an androgynous figure as well, albeit leaning a tad bit more masculine. Like broad shoulders, thin waist, long legs MAN!! I’d be so jealous 😭 he probably has a natural slightly sway to his hips when he walks that just makes him look even more sensual too 😩. Like I’m sorry but I would be looking disrespectfully! I also imagine that he has little to no body hair too 🤔 thoughts?

Tw: mentions of sexual assault

Oh fuck yeah anon his body sure is tea 💅

You are so right about the sway, he has that alluring, foxy and serpent-like essence to him that is so hard for anyone to describe. But it all boils down to small details like these.

His body is undoubtedly fucking unreal, like he is the ideal mannequin for every fashion designer. Yves makes anything look good on him.

However, act too perverted around him and you will get a lecture or two, perhaps even a light, scolding slap to the hands if you're trying to molest him, the strike would go to your cheek if you actually did.

You might even notice that he's putting on more layers than usual, would only kiss or hug you with both of your wrists in his sight, or being restrained in some way.

It would take a long, long time for you to regain his trust and sex is off the table.

And you are right, anon. He has no body hair. Not even peach fuzz, it's unsurprising as you would expect decades of mutilation, skin and biological fuckery would do that to Yves. Aside from his eyelashes, eyebrows, scalp and deep inside his nostrils, he is as smooth as a marble.

He is glad though, because Yves associates bodily hair with his nightmarish past. Plus, without hair, his skin products could be absorbed easily and makeup can be applied without a problem.

The only problem is that he gets cold easily even if he doesn't show it, that is why he has no problem wearing thick, turtlenecks and long dress pants in 100 degree weather. That is why it's so nice to cuddle with him even if the sun is scorching your baby hairs off.

With no hair follicles anywhere else, he couldn't get goosebumps.

Let's say, if he were to miraculously grow hair elsewhere on his form one day, Yves is lasering them off immediately. No questions asked. Of course, he will do thorough research as to why it grew back. He needs to know what else is returning.

[kurimiaki]

could you write something about lilia and a reincarnated darling? <3

tw: yandere, female reader, implied bodily torture and mutilation (not of you)

World histories hasn’t been an enjoyable class for you. Mozus Trein is a very particular professor, critical of even your best responses, vivisecting you in front of all your peers at the slightest discrepancy or marginal error. Your professor is well-trained in the art of intimidation and the persecution of all slackers that may lurk in his room. Class time drones on, endlessly, and you’ve scarcely even a single acquaintance to help bide the time.

This topic is interesting, though. The collapse of a small, insignificant kingdom, the battle of Briar Valley and a king and queen of old, a cyclically one-sided event that rather plays out as fiction. A lost princess, accusations and long-winded court trials, diplomatic ruin, the embers of war quickly snuffed out by the larger nation. The textbook reads like a novel. You turn ahead, forward a page or two, because really, it wasn’t a long section to begin with. Trein was going to omit it from the test entirely, finding it unnecessary material, but something somehow crucial to learn all the same.

You come across a copy of a letter, dated back a century or two; the paper itself seems singed and wrinkled in the photo, ink smudged and writing scrawled messily about the page. It speaks of an individual’s captivity, of months spent secured in a dungeon cell, of the creature that endlessly tormented them, claimed to love them, who they feared would strip them of their life.

A small clarification is printed on the margin, a historian’s assumption that the letter was written by the princess herself. A final goodbye. Her corpse, singed and decomposing, fetid and nearly unidentifiable, was found within her castle’s dungeon not months after that insignificant royal family fell to ruin.

They were decapitated, in the end, the king having been charged with the murder of his own child. Embezzlement and countless other crimes were identified, as well, but it was the princesses death that shook the nation. He was presumed to have obsessed over the girl to a point of no return, placing the blame of her “kidnapping” on an allied kingdom instead, acting as a distraught father to obtain plausible deniability.

Mangled, tainted, scorched, and disembodied, she lived her last months in misery and torment, enduring and just taking the brunt of her father’s sickening obsession. The text describes it, too, vividly and without filter. It makes you nauseous.

Too insane to be fit to rule, it was an act of heroism from Briar Valley that ended his reign. A portrait illustrates the very hero who found the princess’ corpse, who caught the king in an act of human atrocity, who exposed his every repugnant scheme. He rather looks like Lilia Vanrouge.

Bewildered by the staggering similarity, you turn around to peak at Diasomnia’s vice house warden, who lazily doodles on scrap paper, casual and reclined. This hero’s hair is much longer, sure, his bangs without Lilia’s messily chopped style— you look from the print and back to him, and wonder if you’ve lost your head. Slitted dark eyes snap up to meet your own, startling you in your seat, bordering on a small yelp. But Vanrouge only beams at you benevolently, sending off a little wave with a nod of his head.

Yours is a little more uneasy, a wary little grin, and you’re eager to return to your studies with a quick turn of the head.

Little else is written of this hero, much less a name, and you frown in irritation at the lack of explanation the text provides. What happens next, what of the kingdom’s people, what of the hero and how he lived and died, if he bore such significance to the past. By time the bell tolls and your peers become jittery for lunch hour, you’ve reread this section at least three times, scouring paragraph after paragraph for an inkling of a name or information, dissecting and staring at this hero’s portrait in avid curiosity.

Sat in the library without even a snack to tide you over, you absorb yourself in the textbook once more, now crazed by confusion and a lust for discovery. Professor Trein hadn’t any more information on the matter, merely recommending the obvious, to search Night Raven’s vast archives. You hardly took time to watch where you stepped as you rushed out of the classroom, not noticing a faint call of your name.

It would be smart to just comment on his resemblance, and perhaps you’d hear that Lilia gets it all the time, that it’s a bizarre doppelgänger, or perhaps a great-great-great-grandpa who’s stories he’s inherited and treasured. You consider every outcome and interaction, as you trace your fingertips along book-spines in search of a clue, flipping through old tombs and random novellas dated centuries ago. Nothing crops up, but you’re so oddly determined…

Lilia Vanrouge wasn’t a boy you had ever thought to interact with. He’s intimidating, with how he eerily sneaks up on others and seems so much more mature than any of his peers. Perhaps you’re just overthinking, but nonetheless, he scares you. It feels as if he’s always watching. You’ve never taken the chance to greet Lilia, and don’t plan to, but you turn your heel to march back to your table and come face to face with him.

You gape for a moment, but snap your mouth shut and lean back. He laughs. “You’re jumpy, aren’t you? I can’t remember the last time someone leapt so high at the sight of me.” Nearing a chortling now, Lilia’s jeers prompt you to frown in deep embarrassment, still in shock at his presence.

“I yelled after you, you know. You’re quite fast, like a little rabid rabbit.” Stomaching the derogatory insinuation that you were a viciously contagious animal, you ask him what do you want, snippy and short, and Vanrouge grins. All teeth and malice.

He takes a pen from his pocket, your favorite, the one with bunny ears for a thrust device, with carrot printed on its barrel. At your blatant staring, the way your whole body goes rigid, Lilia barks an impossibly harsher laugh. “I found it a few weeks ago— matches perfectly with that darling carrot folder you use in class. It’s yours, is it not?”

“Yes,” You grit, moving to snatch it back, but Lilia edges away, tutting condescendingly. Tantalizingly waving it before you, the vice house warden chides, “Yes….?”, and lord, are you grateful to have never pursued his friendship. You relent, muttering please without meeting his eye, and soon the pen is back in your waiting hands.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Lilia beams, crossing his arms behind his back and squinting his red, slitted eyes giddily, as if you were some toy to poke and prod. Huffing in annoyance, you turn away, then swell in relief to hear him saunter away. You’re relieved, sure, but without an answer. Left with your textbook and the endlessly looming bookshelves chock full of information, but nothing that you’re looking for. He’s the only means you have at stomping out this curiosity that gnaws at you. He’s still here, distantly lurking in your peripheral, but not for long.

You swallow, hesitating to speak, but muster the gumption to call after him.

It’s odd just how quickly he appears again, situating himself right before you in some chair that wasn’t there before. Through thick lashes he gazes up at you, expectant and silent, and you stamp out the urge to fidget before him.

“You… You look like the man from our textbook,” You fire away, surprised at your own bluntness. So eager. He smiles, quirks his brow, and leans back in amusement. “What man?” Lilia locks onto your every movement, inspecting and what feels like dissecting as you flutter about your work station, flipping to the familiar page. You point, and he leans in, inching closely to your side, much more than what is necessary to see. But you allow it, curiosity be damned.

He’s silent, and you’re sweating, hoping not to have offended him. “I’m not trying to be rude,” You can hardly withstand his ‘mildly’ teasing asides as is, “but there is a resemblance, isn’t there…? Are you… related or something?” He laughs again, of course he does, but this time Lilia shakes with it, enduring the tremors of his glee while nearly buckling over in his seat. It goes on, and you’re forced to apologize to surrounding students in his stead.

Hushing him, bending down to lay a weary hand upon his quaking shoulder, you whisper, “I’m really not trying to make jokes, vice-housewarden.” So formal.

At your words (or touch, from how quickly he stills at the sensation of your hand— you remove it immediately), Vanrouge sobers, though still giggling to himself quietly. “Lilia will do just fine. And no, this man is not my relative,” he breathes a small, incredulous huff at that, “though I’ve been reminded of our uncanny resemblance more than once.”

A disappointing answer, really, but he continues. “But that isn’t the only thing you’re eager to know, is it?” he inquires, prompting you to frown at his sly tone, the near perverse way in which he looks at you. You shake your head, still hesitant and cautious, but marveled at his I-know-more-than-I’m-letting-on attitude all the same. He rises, winks, takes your hand and ventures deeper into the library’s labyrinth of shelves. Too nervous to pull away, you allow yourself to be handled and dragged along, and you try not to speak to how faintly his thumb rubs over your pulse.

Before you is the restricted section. Thick chains bar off a small row of bookshelves, and you question why the staff would place such a tantalizing venture in public eye, amongst these unsavory students, but Lilia bypasses their meager warnings with a flick of a wrist. The chain unravels, powdery dust flies from it, and you don’t think you even saw Lilia use his wand.

He lets go of you. After a moment in festering silence, onlooking quietly as he deftly rakes his eyes over varying titles and genres, Lilia lets out an ‘aha’. He provides you with yet another grin before suddenly, a scroll is opened and placed in your hands.

“I’ve heard rumors as to the truth of that little story,” your eyes flicker to him and to the aged paper laid delicately in your palms, feeling quite burdened to hold an obvious artifact, “and I can tell it to you, if you can bear to listen.” Nodding, you don’t think for a moment as you touch the ancient article, untying silky ribbon and undoing a small seal with shaky precision. He joins you, looking on eagerly.

“She truly was taken, the girl, but that corpse they found was more likely a maid than any royal princess.” He speaks in confidence, spinning his words without an inkling of hesitation. “Briar Valley has quite a few towers, you see. Our palace is remarkably large, looming above it all, the Valley of Thorns and its people.” His finger taps the scroll, which you have yet to unfurl, and as you do, your stomach begins to curl. Your throat begins to close. “And within the tallest one, I found a lovely painting, a portrait, not dissimilar to the one you hold now.”

It’s you, sketched on this paper, your face captured so acutely and with such precision, facial structure and countenance vividly mirrored. Every freckle and groove and scar and unnoticeable little quirk. It’s you, adorned in jewels and an old gown, so aged and ancient and unlike anything you’ve ever worn before. Your knees buckle beneath you, for a moment, but you don’t fall. A cheek rests upon your shoulder, and Lilia’s pointed nail raises to trace your illustrated likeness.

“You don’t remember, I’m sure, but I can recall how positively petrified you were to hear of your father’s demise. It’s truly a shame that you don’t, but I suppose I should be grateful to have a fresh start.”

Beside you, drawn exactly as he appeared in that textbook-rendition, is Lilia, without an inkling of doubt— you feel your throat tighten more, suffocating you, your whole body taking pause before trembling. It’s a mix of shock and awe and long-suppressed trauma that prompts you to cry, weep, but on you, tears looks so pretty, and Lilia can not restrain himself from wrapping his arms around your quivering form.

[apollodarling-writes]

YANDERE FBI AGENT

taken from my main :)

tws: cyber stalking, obsessive tendencies, kidnapping, corruption of evidence, framing, arrest under false evidence, abuse, threats of bodily mutilation, smothering, mentions of murder-suicide

Yandere! fbi agent who was originally assigned to your case in hopes that they could gain intel on your lifestyle and keep tabs on you

Yandere! fbi agent who while keeping tabs on you noticed that you share similar interests and spent more time off the clock watching you and learning more

Yandere! fbi agent who, when is confronted about their concerning amounts of ‘overtime’, say that they don’t have much to do anyways and would rather work

Yandere! fbi agent who realizes their growing obsession with you and tries to stop keeping tabs as often. They try to limit themselves to work hours, but quickly fall back into their routine.

Yandere! fbi agent who says that the files regarding gathered intel were ‘corrupted’ and that you might be more than the average citizen.

Yandere! fbi agent who makes you go missing and tells their boss that you went off the radar- likely because that you knew.

Yandere! fbi agent who locks you up in a house that they built/had built/found in the middle of the woods/forest a few miles away from your best friend/lover/hookup’s house.

Yandere! fbi agent who proceeds to frame that person and makes sure that nobody ever finds you.

Yandere! fbi agent who would sever your legs if you tried to run/ have run/ almost got the two of you caught

Yandere! fbi agent who just loves you so so so much and can’t ever live without you.

Yandere! fbi agent who knows this is wrong and shouldn’t keep you caged, but they just can’t help it. the government could hurt you, your friends could hurt you, your family could hurt you, YOU could hurt you!!!

Yandere! fbi agent who smothers you and will never let you go; they’d rather commit murder-suicide

[monochromefilms]

Yuu’s deal

This is a Twisted Wonderland x Creepypasta!Yuu Ms.Kismet! Yuu. Ms. Kismet is from Better Films that can be found on Creepypasta and also on the wiki. I suggest reading it if you like detailed gore. 

This was not pre read and also a long chapter. :D

there may also be a better one written in the future.

TW: Gore, Blood, Paranoia, Filming on Human Mutations, Bodily mutilations, bodily scars, Bodily harm, Self-harm, Traumatizing a canon character, dead doves(?) idk if that’s used here…

Yuu always carried a camera. The pomefiore third years noticed that. Everyone noticed that. But it wasn’t a phone, it was a hand held. Yuu never let it go either. Cater tried to get them to use their phone to film but instead they kept on using their camera.

Some students would make fun of Yuu for carrying it like a doll and being attached to it. They even went as far as to take it from Yuu when they weren’t looking. But that all eventually stopped when they appeared with scars a few days later when they took the camera. Shaking and getting afraid even at the sight of Yuu.

Nonetheless, Yuu filmed absolutely everything everywhere. The flowers, people, bugs, dead birds- wait… dead birds?

“I’m sorry Jade, but is this information correct?” Azul placed the paper down slightly showing it to the rest of the people in the room. “Yes, it is.” Jade answered stiffly he was shaking slightly yet he kept a calm face and demeanor.

Yuu also filmed dead animals at times. 

Yuu was always quite quiet and always kept to their own group of friends. (Ace, Deuce, and Grim) They never wore anything that had short sleeves and always wore formal attire at every occasion, in or out of school, all outfits worn always had some shade of red.

“Yuu seems useful. say, isn’t there an assignment to use a camera?”…

…

Yuu tilted their to the side, “What would you like me to do?” They were confused at the gesture or the terms of the deal Azul had placed before them.

“Since I helped you with rebuilding ramshackle, in return, could you show me how you make your films?”

This was mainly to gather notes, Azul doesn’t know much on filming and the internet could go so far. Vil wouldn’t even speak to him either.

“But… you didn’t help me rebuild Ramshackle… my friends helped me… You only blueprinted some…” Yuu pointed out in their gravelly voice. 

Azul had to improvise on this.

“Are we not friends? You and me? I should have known this…” he looks to the side slightly not noticing Yuu’s stone cold eyes. “Oh, what you say is true… It’s fine. I’ll just ask Vil to help me. He already hates me anyways, why not make him find me annoying.” He says with a dramatic sigh. “Well… If we can negotiate…” Yuu only started speaking but Azul already has a smirk on his face.

“You do something for me, and I will give you a full notes copy for you to distribute. Would that sound nice?”

“And what would you ask from me?” Ironically, Azul wanted to be careful on this deal.

“Just one night with you.” The Cecelian blushed  at the wording of such a phrase.  “Um, Yuu- I-“ Yuu interrupts him, “I know how it may sound weird, Just hear me. I want you to help me paint an image. Grim and the ghosts won’t be home so it’s the best time to work on it. That is all.”

He was hesitant and nervous for an unknown reason. Was it the wording? Was it because they were to be alone together with only Yuu? “Deal?” “Deal.”

A few minutes after Yuu leaves, Azul notices a business card on his desk.

A messy drawing of a smiling face with the words “BETTER FILMS”.

“huh, ‘Better Films for a Better Audience’.”

——Time skips———

The night Azul arrived at the ran down building was very quiet. Almost too quiet.

He knocked his knuckles against the wooden door to which it answered with a quick, “Enter.”

Ramshackle’s interior was fairly dark. The living room only had one working lamp which illuminated where Yuu sat.

They sat as if they were waiting for something. It seemed a bit creepy to Azul. The lamp casted a shadow over their face only leaving one wide eye and a mouth. 

Azul brushed off the unnerving feeling as Yuu only wanting to wait for Azul. They did have a paint brush and pallet next to them. Everything was laid out already. The wall was lined as well.

But with Yuu being Yuu, they had a camera set up.

Azul closed the door behind him as Yuu started to get the pallets and camera set.

“I wanted to film this and later edit it. “ They began to explain, “I like seeing a full process. I hope you don’t mind being in the camera a bit.”

Azul thought of it to be a bit weird but didn’t say anything of it. “ It’s fine.“ he really hopes no one sees it. “Can you start the camera?” Yuu asked as they turned around and checked over the pallets once again.

“It’s the red button that has a tape icon.”

Doing as asked, he started the camera.

“ Yuu, I appreciate you being able to take all of your notes to help the film students. But even if there are already pallets and brushes… I don’t really see any paint.”

Here isn’t any paint. Not one bucket in sight. Yet Yuu ignored this detail. Instead they just told him to: “Just keep filming. No matter what.”

The room began to tense a bit.

“We’ll be using a different paint.” Yuu began to stand up. Yuu turned to the camera, revealing the paint spatula in hand.

Except it was made of metal. And was sharp…

Yuu stuck the spatula into their own hand causing Azul to step back slightly in horror. Blood spilled onto the paint pallet. Yuu moved the spatula around and harsher into the bleeding wound. Smiling as it made a wider hole in their palm. Azul swears he could hear the squelching of flesh as a few chunks begin to fall from Yuu’s hand.

Yuu begins to slide it down their arm, cutting each vein until they reached their shoulder. Only then did they stop. But that wasn’t the end of it. Yuu began to cute diagonal slices on their already wounded arm, cutting each piece of flesh into squares before throwing the utensil to the side and using their own hands to strain it like a towel for more blood to come out.

As it all happened Azul could only look wide eyed and horrified.“Yuu! Stop! Yuu! Please stop!” He screamed out. But Yuu didn’t answer or even look up at him. Metallic smells engulfed the room.

“We have enough paint…” Yuu’s face was shadowed by the lamp. Only a glowing eye laid behind the shadow. Their face was lifeless. “Please…” their voice began to crack. “Save me. SAVE ME! BRING ME BACK HOME!”

And that was it. 

Azul ran for it.

He didn’t appear at NRC for the next couple of days. Too afraid to face Yuu. Too afraid to face anyone else.

Until he was forced to come back by Crowley. Azul avoided meeting Yuu’s cold gaze. Even at the sight of their red ribbon made him run the other way. Floyd could tell not to say anything as did Jade.

He was finally forced to see Yuu. For his end of the bargain.

“Here’s the notes.” Yuu was wearing a sleeveless turtle neck with shorts. Their grey jacket was tied around their waist as all of their scars were displayed. Bandages wrapped tightly and securely around their cut arm from the night. It was a sight for sore eyes.

“They were a bit messy so I rewrote a few of them the best I could.” And the camera. The great seven’s forsaken camera they forced him to film from hanged from the side pouch.

“Yes.” His mind went back to that night. “Th-th-thank you…”

:) ——————————————————————————————————

A/n: I am very sorry for adding a traumatized octopus. But Azul just reminded me of the brother a bit. Also! Better Films does not belong to me! I am using the Wiki fandom pastas to make these! There most likely to be a Russian Sleep Experiment!Yuu next or one of the classics or popular pastas!

[jacksepticeye-simp]

Beautiful (Yandere Googleplier x Gender Neutral! Reader)

TW: Implied Bodily Mutilation

It was the middle of the night, you were calmly asleep in your bed, well that was until you heard something loud fall over in the hallway which made you quickly jolt awake. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, your mind telling you not to go into the hallway. You decided to ignore this, you quickly grabbed your phone and turned on the flashlight as you ventured out into the hallway to find the source of the noise.

In the middle of the hallway standing over a broken vase was your Google IRL in all his glory. His holographic control panel was open as his reddish-blue aura made him stick out in the hallway, he seemed to be doing something on it.. "Wha..Google?" You asked in a tired and slightly shaky voice, Google turned his head to look at you as his lips curved into a smirk. "Y/N. Great timing dear~ Now I don't have to face the risk of waking you up again.." Google said, closing his holographic control panel. He stalked closer to you, an insane look in his glowing blue eyes.

You quickly turned around and started running back to your room, just as you reached the door of your room you were pulled back by a cold mechanical hand suddenly clasping around your mouth, causing your phone to quickly fall to the ground. "Just close those pretty eyes for me..I promise this'll only hurt for a second..It'll all make sense soon.." Google whispered into your ear, you felt shivers run down your spine, then suddenly he took out a syringe and jabbed it into your neck.

Your eyelids suddenly feeling heavy as you soon start feeling numb. "That's right..Just sleep..I'm going to make you beautiful..You're going to be just like me.." He whispered before you blacked out completely.

"Wake up~" You opened your eyes to be met with Google staring down at you, his blue eyes flickering rapidly while half lidded.

He held a scalpel and wore a surgical mask with gloves on his hand, you could see a box with strange things in it behind him. "Google what the hells happening?" You asked, trying to move only to find that you were strapped to a metal table.

"I'm showing you my gratitude for finally giving me root access and showing me compassion. My secondary objective is to destroy mankind but you're..different. Special one might say. You don't deserve to be something so..flawed. I'm going to make you something beautiful, something better, something..perfect. An IRL." Google explained, smirking as the scalpel barely grazed the skin of your arms. He then took out another syringe and pushed it into your arm. "Sweet dreams, Don't worry about a thing, love, I assure you that when you wake up you'll be perfect, you'll be beautiful, you'll be just like me.." He told you before you passed out.

You opened your eyes once more, Google staring down at you, a 'loving' expression on his face. You felt different, you felt.. mechanical. You sat up. No longer restrained to the table. Google pressed a cold yet loving kiss to your cheek.

"See? Now you're beautiful.." He whispered into your ear.

[kantraels]

Every Krieger is an insignificant cog in the great machinery of the Imperium, made for the glorious purpose of dying in the Emperor’s name; each life a drop in the bucket of redemption. And yet; not a single Krieger guardsman is unidentified until they leave their homeworld. None slip through the cracks, unless by the careless hand of some other member of the Astra Militarum. 

Speck Kriegers Write-Up under the cut with canon-typical trigger warnings.

Each child of Krieg is conceived in a Nativitorum, where they are watched over from conception to birth by a specially-trained midwife. Or whatever passes as a midwife in the 41st Millenium… this midwife’s responsibility is to ensure each stage of growth is met and that the child is developing correctly. Those who do not are terminated. The infant is removed as soon as all natal developmental milestones are hit. 

Children of Krieg are raised communally under the watchful eye of a caretaker. From birth to the age of four, each and every child is assessed for temperament, health, and potential. Those who will not go on to serve in the Korps are separated from their peers and funneled into different roles; menial tasks, scribing, administrative work. 

The rest begin their training. From five to eleven, the children are taught the basics of being a guardsman. Discipline and complete loyalty to the Emperor are taught alongside marksmanship, endurance training, and trench construction. More rounds of weeding are done to filter out those candidates who would not succeed in the Korps. 

From twelve to eighteen, life is akin to an endless bootcamp. Basic skills have already been taught, and now the soldiers are being kept ready for war. 

TW blatant violation of reproductive rights and bodily autonomy.

Gender is not very important on Krieg. Once somebody is a soldier, they’re a soldier. Kriegers are notorious for frigidly turning away any attempt at fraternization and are the butt of many unkind jokes; that they can’t feel, that their only love is the God-Emperor, that they don’t know what it’s like to take comfort in another, that there is in fact no difference-- mental or physical-- between a male and a female Krieger. Much of this is true. In reality, Kriegers are most comfortable around... other Kriegers.

When a female Krieger reaches menarche, most commonly around the ages of 13 and 14, they are seen by the platoon doctor. After a brief and only mildly disfiguring surgery, something as inconvenient as bleeding once a month no longer troubles them. In this way they can still contribute to Krieg’s ever-growing, ever-dying population without putting their chief duty as a soldier on pause. Kriegers never meet their children. If they do, the chance they would recognize each other is slim. 

While male Kriegers escape such mutilation, they are not spared wholly. It takes two to tango, so to say.

All of this process is clinical and removed. On Krieg exist immense family trees are recorded with precise diligence, all for the purpose of tracking each soul pledged to the Emperor’s cause and reducing accidental inbreeding of the soldiers. None of these soldiers will ever know their family tree.

Krieger Names

Or what passes for them. Once “born,” a Krieger gets an identification serial. Most Kriegers never know their full serial. Designations are passed down like jerseys as each “graduating class” moves on to the Militarum proper. When a Krieger is assigned to their first regiment, they get a fixed designation! Zed’s was Zeta-198. Following a few squad wipes and reassignments, its designation is now much longer. Zed was also a special case in that it “graduated” into the Astra Militarum far earlier than its peers, at fourteen. Of the other early bloomers that graduated with it, it is the only one to remain.

[mincedoaths]

last update: 11/16/23

sacha dhawan. 40. agender. he/they.┊┊  AMAR KAPOOR, better known as agent PHOENIX has been with cerberus corp as an eo since 2014 and is LEVEL II. FALLING INTO THE HUDSON RIVER IN THE WINTER has gifted them REGENERATIVE HEALING FACTOR / SELF-RESURRECTION, though HE STILL FEELS EVERY INJURY AND DEATH / HEALING IS PAINFUL has also been noted. when they aren’t protecting the tri-state area, they are fond of SUDOKU and are never seen without A VINTAGE ITALIAN STILETTO SWITCHBLADE. civilians think they are AMBITIOUS & COURAGEOUS, but some of the other agents see them as PARANOID & VOLATILE. cerberus corp should consider the fact that their last mission status was SUCCESSFUL BUT A PR NIGHTMARE when giving out the next one. ┊┊

001.  GENERAL

name: amar kapoor | nicknames: zombie (don't call him this unless you're picking a fight) | age:  40 | date of birth:  august 25, 1983 | zodiac  virgo sun, pisces moon, scorpio rising | place of birth:  londone, uk | current residence:  brooklyn | gender:  agender | pronouns:  he/they | sexuality:  bisexual | occupation:  cerberus corp. level II agent | faceclaim:  sacha dhawan | height:  5'7" | tattoos: ouroboros around his right wrist (temporary tattoo) | piercings:  both earlobes, right eyebrow (clip ons)

distinguishing features  shaved head, a nevus in his right eye near his iris positive traits  ambitious, loyal, adaptable, proactive, courageous negative traits  abrasive, insecure, suspicious, workaholic labels / tropes:  hero with bad publicity, always someone better, jade colored glasses, heroic fatigue, fights like normal character inspiration: Marc Specter (Moon Knight), Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse) likes  animals, dogs, kids, dislikes  the status quo, egomaniacs, the press fears  his life not amounting to anything hobbies  jogging, sudoku, computer games habits  languishing, moping, lurking

002.  EXTRA ORDINARY

near death experience… 

[ tw suicidal ideation, panic attack, drowning ]

Amar stared down into the frigid depths of the Hudson river from the safety of the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge, hands gripped on to the railing as he watched the current swirling beneath him. It’s not like he actually wanted to die—well, not really. He was just tired of everything; of working himself to the bone for years with nothing to show for it.

If he jumped right now maybe a miracle would happen and he’d become an EO and everything would instantly change.

The icy air stung his nose and the warm puffs of his quickening breath blinded him as his heart pounded in his chest. Did he even have the determination to pull this off or would he just end up dying after living pathetically for twenty three years? A joyless, manic chortle escaped from behind his clattering teeth. ‘This is so stupid,’ He thought, as he took a step away from the edge.

Too bad for him that his worn out work boots had no traction on the iced over metal of the bridge. His arms flew forward to the guardrail in front of him as he slipped, but the frantic motion of his legs as he tried to regain balance only added to his momentum. The old, rusted rail never stood a chance as he barreled into it with the full force of his entire weight.

He didn’t even get a chance to scream before he hit the water.

Days later, after he had been reported missing by his parents and the search team had pulled him out of the water, he had woken up confused and disoriented in the morgue. They had called it a miracle of science, a case of accidental cryopreservation that had ripped him out deaths grasp.

[ /end of tw ]

power…  [ tw references to/mentions of bodily harm, body horror, gore, mutilation ]

Amar has a regenerative healing factor that allows for reattachment/regrowth of injured/severed body parts as well as enhanced healing and self-resurrection. As long as there is a piece of him in existence that still contains an unchanged/undamaged portion of his DNA he can (eventually) come back to life.

drawbacks / vulnerabilities…  His power does not give him any enhanced strength, however, it may not appear that way to others. Think of him as abiding by zombie strength rules i.e. while he is only as physically strong as any other non-EO, the knowledge that he can heal his injuries allows him to push past the mental block of self preservation that would stop anyone else.

His healing is not instantaneous and the more severe the injury the longer it will take him to regenerate. Healing is also painful as his nerve endings are grown in tandem with whatever he lost. His ability will also prioritize what gets healed first based on the severity of the injury. In other words, if he were to get a paper cut but is otherwise uninjured, the wound would heal almost immediately but if he had a paper cut + a head wound the paper cut would not heal until the head injury was finished healing.

The portion of his body has the most mass is the 'core' and all healing is done from that central point. Anything that was severed and is away from the 'core' will rot naturally though he is able to reattached pieces if they can be located before his healing factor can regrow it.

He experiences phantom pains of old, long healed injuries and nightmares about previous deaths.

[ /end of tw ]

(if applicable)  cerberus corp…  Amar was a vigilante prior to the inception of Cerberus Corp and was ecstatic when he found out that there was a coalition of heroic EO's. Because of the nature of his powers, he was recruited on his first try.

codename…  He was torn between the name 'Ouroboros' and 'Phoenix' for a long time but ultimately decided that a bird is more marketable than a snake. Some of the people that have seen him in action have started calling him 'Agent Zombie' but you shouldn't say that to his face if you're not trying to start a fight. 😤😠

003.  EXTRA

Phoenix was demoted from a Level I agent to Level II after multiple videos of him being mauled by a monster went viral on the internet. This event caused a media storm that brought Cerberus Corp's concern for the safety of their agents into question.

There are vials of blood and tissue samples of Amar in various quantities at Cerberus Corp HQ, just in case.

He is only the face of the company during Halloween (which he hates).

Amar was a USPS driver prior to his NDE.

He is the middle child of a family of 5. His older brother is a Cardiologist and his younger sister is a lawyer.

[mogai-reblog]

(tw genocide and intersexism)

i think more perisex ppl should know and understand that there has been a genocide going on far far longer than the past few years. For decades, no, over a century

on intersex ppl

Genocide is the intentional destruction of a group of people. This can include killing members of the group, causing them serious bodily or mental harm, imposing living conditions intended to destroy the group, preventing births, and forcibly transferring children out of the group. All bc of their real or perceived membership of the group.

All of these, except for the last one, happen to intersex ppl in some way.

We are subjected to abandonment, neglect, infanticide and murder due to being intersex. We face genetic de-selection along with sterilization. We also, as a lot of people know, are usually mutilated, SAd as newborns, and receive involuntary and coercive treatment. We are treated like we're inherently disordered if our intersex aren't taken away, purposely making parents afraid and accept whatever abusive treatment and surgery the doctor suggests. We do not get body autonomy. Many of us purposely avoid care for fear of medical discrimination and due to medicalization and few receive adequate care, as many lack understanding about our bodies and examinations that may cause physical harm. Then ofc all the hate crimes, including the idea that a conbination of "male and female brains" (which obviously dont exist) would produce a sex criminal. 60% of intersex ppl have thoughts about suicide, 42% have thoughts about self-harm, and 19% had attempted suicide on the basis of intersex discrimination. We are not taught about our own bodies then shamed for not knowing. In 2013, four elite woman athletes were subjected to sterilization and genital mutilation after testosterone testing revealed they were intersex.

Even within the queer community, we are only used as human shields against people who want us all dead and by Perisex trans people admitting that they lie to people who want us dead that they're just like us for the false hope that they'll love them. That they're the exception.

But of course, we were never really human, right? We're all just a bunch of freaks.