#tw: bodily mutilation

[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.

[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.

[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 end of April all these 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!

[solarsodas]

psychic attack on my hog

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Not to be the person talking about feet. But is anyone else just a little weirded out by the Hellaverse characters legs and feet? Or… lack thereof? Like I know it’s a weird thing to be bothered about. And I can give a pass to the more demonic looking characters. But the fact that it happens so often and even to the more human ones just throws me off. It’s uncomfortable for me. Idk if it’s the anatomy of it or what, but it icks me out. (TW for last image, bodily mutilation and deformation)

Striker and Verosika have this weird Patrick star thing going on. It makes sense for SOME characters like Carmilla, but it’s still kinda weird how often it happens.

Moxxie’s mom. I mean those are shoes. Like human shoes. And realistically, those are only on her toes.

Stolas/Loona/Moxxie’s legs, half the time, the bottom part is so long, I’m convinced people forget that they do in fact have knees.

Then you occasionally have people like Vaggie/Vox/Velvette/Alastor/Lucifer/Charlie. They clearly have feet but are still easily drawn too small.

Niffty and Angel don’t even HAVE feet at all, despite wearing something akin to shoes.

Then you have a somehow worse version of the Patrick Star thing. At least with Verosika/Striker it like they’re wearing some weird heels. With Mimzy and Lute it’s giving foot binding energy.

Her artstyle just causes that don't blame you for being put off

[forwhump]

Touch

a/n; touch starved human weapon who’s never known kindness gets a hug :’) & a bunch of other times he’s touched, mostly in a horrible fashion

for the anon that wanted silas to get a hug & the anon that wanted more of the unit !! two bingo squares crossover episode best of both worlds babeyyyy

tw/cw: grievous bodily harm, mutilation, guns, traumatic brain injuries, implied rape/noncon, references to graphic violence, medical torture

living weapon whumpee

The first touch Silas ever knows is that of the cold, gloved hands reaching into the opened cavity of his chest.

Their touch is not gentle. Their touch introduces Silas to pain. It’s a pain that he will very quickly become familiar with.

They open him from throat to groin. They peel skin away from meat, and meat away from muscle. They pry apart his ribcage and crush his ribs into splinters of bone. They pull out chunks of organ tissue and they hold him down, against the cold steel of the operating table, as they take the colder steel of a surgical scalpel of his hairline.

Silas’ very first memory is waking up to those cold, gloved hands fishing his small intestine from his opened gut.

The very first touch Silas ever knows is that of those hands.

Silas doesn’t like to be touched.

He learns this very quickly.

It’s an empty cell, carved from stone, not quite tall enough for Silas to stand in but that doesn’t matter because Silas can’t stand. He’s shackled to the floor by the iron closed around his throat, and he’s left there for days in the dark.

He’s alone. He’s alone a lot in the beginning.

The first person that he ever sees, outside of that operating room, is a soldier. Silas doesn’t recognize him but he spits, “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, you ugly fuck,” and swings his fist into Silas’ face with as much force as a human being can manage.

His name is Point, Silas learns later, and his touch breaks his right eye socket into splinters of skull.

They manage to save his eye. Much later, however, Point puts three bullets in it, and Silas loses his right eye for good.

Silas learns very quickly that touch is something vile. It’s something to be shied away from, something that hurts. Touch is inhumane.

When Silas is touched, it hurts him.

When Silas touches, he hurts.

They chain his hands in front of him, and they shackle him at the ankles. He has to wear a bite bar because they don’t trust his teeth.

They’re right not to.

Because they remove the bite bar, the chains, the shackles, and there’s carnage.

When Silas touches, he hurts. When Silas touches, there’s carnage.

Silas usually does his field tests alone, but not always. They are a team, technically, him and the unit, and the district needs to be sure they work well together, or some shit equivalent.

Silas had spent a lot of time making a careful point not to let the unit see him the way the soldiers see him, as the horrible thing he really is, and introducing them into the field tests had made him edgy, and it had made him feel kind of sick.

It turned out to be a waste of emotion.

Even now, the soldier’s gun aimed into Hal’s face, Silas makes quick work of pulling his throat out through the back of his neck. He uses his teeth, and still, as Hal stands, he wipes blood from his eyes with his sleeve and looks up at Silas with a grin that’s nothing but relieved.

“Good looking out, man,” he says, and holds his fist out to Silas. Silas doesn’t know what to do with that, so he doesn’t do anything. Hal kinda gestures with his fist and says, “don’t leave me hanging, big guy. Bump me.”

Silas raises his eyebrows and Hal reacts like he hit him.

“You’ve never had a fist bump?” And he says it like it’s something heinous, like it’s even the most heinous thing Silas has done in the last three minutes. “Oh, man,” he says, but his grin is bordering on obnoxious. “I’m so glad I get to take your fist bump-ginity.”

“No,” Silas deadpans, because he doesn’t know what that is and he also doesn’t want to.

But Hal says, “yeah. Come on,” which isn’t all that convincing on its own, but he adds, “Wren will think you’re really cool if he finds out you do fist bumps,” and Silas squints. Hal grins again, wide and innocent, and holds his fist back out to Silas. “It’s easy. Just bump my fist with your fist. Fist bump.”

“Why?” Silas says.

“I don’t know,” Hal says. “Who cares? Just do it.”

Silas looks at Hal’s hand for a long time and decides the pros — Wren might be impressed he’s learned something — outweigh the cons — he just doesn’t want to. He relents and knocks his fist against Hal’s.

Hal, who throws both his arms up and his head back as he cheers.

June, after she left the service, was a hairdresser for a while.

Silas knows this, because she tells him, “after I left the service, I was a hairdresser for a while.”

Silas says, “okay.”

“So you can trust me,” she adds.

“No,” he says.

June tips her head back, dramatic, as she groans. She’s been wielding the hairbrush like a weapon. “Silas. Come on, dude. Stop being a bitch about it. Let me brush your hair.”

“No,” he repeats.

“Silas,” she repeats.

“No,” he says.

“Wren’ll like it,” she tries, and Silas narrows his eyes. She grins, and she has a very predatory grin. “You wanna look good for Wren, don’t you, big guy?”

He’s starting to suspect these people might be using Wren to manipulate him, and it’s unfortunate that it’s working. Silas sits on the floor, and June, with the added boost of the back of the couch, pulls a brush through his hair like she’s trying to rip all of it out.

He complains the whole time, mostly for the sake of complaining. “Ow,” he says again, and June groans at him.

“You’re too big to be this much of a pussy.”

“You’re hurting me,” he says. She isn’t.

“I don’t care,” June replies. “Stop moving.”

“I’m not moving,” he says.

“You’re flinching,” she says.

“You’re hurting me,” he reminds her.

“You should’ve started brushing your hair six months ago,” she bites back.

“How was I supposed to know?” Silas asks, and he’s won, because she quiets behind him, and her hands tug a little less violently at his hair.

“Sorry,” she says finally, and Silas tries not to smile but it tugs on his mouth at one side. He doesn’t think she’s looking at him, so he doesn’t try all that hard to hide it and so it makes him jump when he turns and she’s leaning over his shoulder to look him in the face. “Hey,” she accuses. “That’s not funny. I thought I hurt your feelings.”

He cracks a smile, despite his best attempts. “You couldn’t hurt my feelings.”

June grins widely, raising her eyebrows. “I’d love to try.”

Silas snorts, and she laughs as she pulls back over his shoulder to tug the brush through his hair again. She ties it up for him; a half knot, because, “I thought it would suit you. I was right.”

He tracks Wren down, just in case.

He has a pencil tucked behind his ear and Silas is strangely entranced by it. “Silas,” he says, and he says it with a smile. “You look so handsome.”

Silas doesn’t know what it means, but he’s flattered, anyway.

He’s on his back on the concrete, looking down the barrel of a gun.

It’s shaking. Point’s hand is trembling. “You stupid, disobedient fuck,” he spits, and Silas barely sees the bottom of his boot closing in on him before it’s cracking his cheekbone. “Bad. Dog.”

Both of Silas’ arms had been nearly amputated at different points, but he can still lift his left hand. Just barely, and it trembles with blood loss and severed tendons, but he manages to lift it from the wet concrete and fold almost all of his fingers down, save for the middle.

Point roars in frustration.

Silas knows the cold kiss of gunmetal, for only a second, and then an eruption of heat that’s white hot and electricity charged and Point empties his gun into Silas’ face.

Silas is reintroduced to the touch of surgeons, but this is nothing new.

He loses his eye.

They take Wren.

Silas couldn’t give less of a fuck about his eye. He’s got another one, he’ll be fine. What’s another disfiguring injury? But he gets back to the unit, and Robin finds him in Wren’s absence.

They’d taken Wren. Robin doesn’t know where.

His touch is a firm handshake that makes Silas’ skin crawl. But he accepts it, even if he didn’t need Robin to ask. Even if he would’ve raised hell, anyway.

He’d been really careful around Wren. He’d been so careful.

Wren’s different. He isn’t like any of the rest of them. He’s gentle in a way Silas thinks super soldiers just aren’t capable of. His skin is still soft. He’s still so human, and he looks at Silas, and he sees something in him that’s human, too.

But he’s wrong. Silas has known for a long time that he’s wrong, and whatever it is that Wren thinks he sees in him, it isn’t human.

He’d wanted so badly for it to be true, though. He’d wanted to believe Wren. He wanted there to be something human in him because he never wanted Wren to stop looking at him like that. He’d done his best not to let Wren see anything less, to not let him see him as any less human than a couple of fatal injuries.

He’d never let him see anything else. He’d been so careful.

But then he finds Wren, and he finds him with a group of soldiers.

Their touch is not kind.

He’s shackled to a bunk by an ankle to the bedpost, and Silas doesn’t even know what they’re doing to him but he knows it’s vile. The sounds make his skin crawl. Wren is begging for it to stop.

He’s crying, and it’s crying like nothing else Silas has ever heard. Wailing. He isn’t in complete control of himself after that.

The soldiers all react to him with flailing, frantic cowardice, shouting and clambering for guns, for knives, for weapons, and it’s embarrassing. Silas is embarrassed for them. Cowards, all of them — loud, cruel cowards. All so scared of Silas, every one of them, and they fuckin’ created him. What a fuckin’ joke.

He lets them scramble, looking at Wren through the blur of them. His mouth is swollen, face shiny with tears, and when he sobs, he sobs, “Silas.”

“Don’t look,” Silas says.

He doesn’t recognize any of the soldiers because their faces all blur.

Every one of them dies in that bunk, and they do not die gently. They die screaming and they die in pain.

Partway through suffocating a soldier with another’s small intestine, Silas lifts his head, and Wren is still there.

He reaches out and splinters the bedpost with one hand. He can’t look at Wren for too long — he doesn’t really wanna see the look on his face. “Run,” he says, and peels the jaw off a nearing soldier with one hand, without even looking at him.

Wren runs.

Silas is punished greatly for his disobedience.

Still, he isn’t looking forward to being back in the unit. The long walk back has his heart beating higher in his chest than he thinks it should. He only ever wants to be in the unit because he wants to be where Wren is — if Wren doesn’t want him there anymore, Silas will have to find a way to stay away, whatever he has to do.

He gets back to the unit and he’s expecting Wren to look at him in disgust if he looks at him at all. He isn’t expecting the way Wren pushes himself into Silas’ chest, arms so tight around his waist that Silas is surprised by the strength of him.

It doesn’t hurt, though, a very pleasant sort of vice, warm and Wren. “What are you doing?” He asks softly.

“A hug,” Wren says, face pressed into the spot just beneath Silas’ sternum and the pressure of him is nice.

“Why?” Silas asks, and Wren makes a sound that Silas can’t decipher as laughter or crying. It might be both.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” he whispers into Silas’ crewneck.

It’s probably the stupidest thing Silas has ever heard him say. “I’d do anything for you,” he says, flat.

And it’s true. There isn’t anything in the world Silas wouldn’t do for him. Wren doesn’t even need to ask. Clinging a little tighter to Silas’ sweatshirt, he sobs.

Silas cradles the back of his head with one hand and lets himself be hugged.

The concrete of the common room floor is a cool touch against his cheek.

It’s the last thing Silas knows before his skull is crushed.

When Silas gets back to the unit, he has tremors in his hands and he doesn’t remember how to read.

When Silas gets back to the unit, it’s been months. He doesn’t know how many.

When Silas gets back to the unit, he’s surprised to immediately find his arms full of Hal.

“What?” Silas says, and then June is jumping onto his back, clinging to his neck, and Wren is at his side, small hands finding Silas’ skin beneath his sweatshirt and his touch is warm, impossibly soft. Silas cradles the back of his head with one hand. “What are you doing?”

Hal laughs from somewhere around his armpit as June laughs loudly into his shoulder. “We missed you, big guy!” She crows.

“We missed you!” Hal cries.

Wren laughs into his side and it’s a little wet. “We were so worried about you.”

Robin is lingering nearby and Silas points at him with his other hand. “Don’t come anywhere fuckin’ near me.”

His face doesn’t change, militant as he is, but his gaze flickers to Wren and back before he says, in the low, rumbling version of Wren’s accent, “welcome back.”

Silas lifts his chin, sort of a nod. He looks back down, at his shaky armfuls of the rest of them, and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his mouth on one side.

They laugh and they cling to him and the touch of the pressure and the weight of them hurts, it makes his recently reconstructed bones groan in protest, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t but he’d also be full of shit if he said it bothered him at all.

Silas would consider himself pretty well versed in pain; this has to be his favourite.

[red-velvet-0w0]

okay so my intrusive thoughts were honestly being metal as hell today and i had to draw the image it kept showing me

(image is under cut) (tw for: suicidal imagery, bodily mutilation, dismemberment, & nonsexual nudity (no genitalia or boobs though))

[forgetful-nightmares-stuff]

Talked to Cro about this earlier but considered to bring this up here as well

Spoilers for episode 8 ahead!

And Tw for slightly gore, and disturbing brain things (aka I describe something that my brain filled in gaps for, and my brain is twisted in that fucked up ADHD way) that fall along the lines of body horror and body mutilation. So either don't think too much about it or just keep scrolling! If you feel like you can't handle it you don't have to, so don't force yourself to!

I think everyone remembers this scene right? Y'know when Cynessa/Flesha/whatever else is tearing out N's core? Yeah that scene.

The fear here can be just assumed to be a "Oh sh-t, I'm going to die.." but then later when N and Uzi are hiding and N's hyperventilating these two images flash on screen

Notice a similarity in the first one? Yeah this was when N was being turned into a Disassembly Drone by Cyn/The Solver. Which yeah it was intended, adds the angst factor of that what Cynessa did earlier DID trigger those memories to resurface.

Then I let the images really sink in.

Now, my brain is fucked up in that ADHD way, I like body horror and stuff so my brain just kinda filled in gaps and...

Look, The idea of the bodily modifications The Solver did to N, V, J, etc has been LURKING in my brain. Like even thinking of Uzi, Doll, Yeva, and Nori- they have Cores but not those body modifications

AKA the initial Gala thing was mainly Cyn/the Solver taking over administration for the now Zombie Drones and then after The Solver murdered all of the Gala guests (and Tessa), The Solver modified their body while either all of them were still active or only N was still active, and if N wasn't infected before then The Solver then infected him, gave him a core, and did the body modifications to him all while presumably using the person N saw as at least a sister stare him down and do that to him while leaving him still active to witness and feel EVERYTHING.

This has been in my brain ever since I noticed it and I need to inform a bit more people. I figured I had a reason to like N since Cro showed me the pilot and Heartbeat when those were the only two out and, I'm telling you just the implications of him going through THAT and yet still making it out mostly okay and optimistic just made me love the guy a bit more

[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."

[suusoh]

Can i request Anna with the prompt: “Your mother wants us to come down for Christmas.” Something about little miss unhinged and cosplaying normality (or failing to) scratches my brain

(LITTLE MISS UNHINGED IM HOLLERINGGG. THAT IS HER OFFICIAL NICKNAME NOW ANON. BLESS. Also this got surprisingly long.)

(tw: yandere, physical threats, threats of bodily mutilation (not at reader), yeah... Anna isn't really the best here.)

"Because she still thinks we're together."

You hiss at her, strong venom evident in your voice. She's unbelievable. You grab the pillow beside you and hug it tightly to your body out of frustration.

Anna remains unfazed though, humming faintly and calmly swinging side to side, dancing to her own little made up tune, while looking at the closet mirror in front of her. She's holding up two dresses by their hanger, draping one across her body and getting a good look before switching to the other.

"We are together, baby. Who said otherwise?"

"I did," you instantly reply, quickly shooting her a glare. "—before you held a fucking pen to my throat."

She continues looking at the closet mirror in front of her, switching back and forth between the two dresses: one blue and one black, ruminating on which one looks better. Still focused on her own little task at hand than paying any mind to your scornful remarks.

She lets out a soft sigh, but it has no actual exasperation in it.

"And I told you that it was in the moment; you're seriously not gonna let me live that down?"

—She quickly catches the hairbrush you throw at her. A loud smack emitting as the brush hits the fleshy meat of her palm. Reflexes effortlessly saving her face from an ugly bruise.After a few seconds, she gently puts the brush down on the table beside her and wordlessly looks down at her hand, the skin slowly reddening in color.

"hm. nice throw."

Anna practically beams at you. Her genuinely proud expression clearing all doubts in your mind about the sincerity of her praise.

"Seriously babe... where was this energy when we went on our carnival dates? Do you know how many rigged games I had to win, or how many fights with a carnie worker, to get you some fluffy toy—"

She continues on her mini rant. Nonchalantly brushing off your little stunt, finding it as nothing but endearing, as she returns to handling her own important dress dilemma before the mirror.

You'd think she was hiding her disappointment, or rage, or whatever normal emotion one should be feeling right now. But oh no no no, she just finds your attempt at hurting her fucking adorable. Fuck. Her.

Fuck her, and her fucking smile, and her fucking cooing, and her fucking keeping you with her in this insane toxic fucking relationship, and her fucking—

"Ah ah ah... don't frown too much, sweetie. You knooow I don't like seeing you sad," A small pout on her face, teasingly playing along with your display.

"Now come on," she tuts lightly. "I need you to help me out here! Which one's better, the blue or the black one? Black is classy, but maybe it's not festive enough for the holidays."

"I'm not your fucking girlfriend Anna." you try to remind her again, half in anger and half in desperation to stop whatever this is.

"Of course you are~~" she sing-songs.

"And you will always be my beloved girlfriend; rest assured, I'll love you forever. Unless, of course, you want to upgrade from girlfriend to wife? I can arrange that."

"You tried to kill me."

You clutch on the sheets of the bed you're sitting on. Bitter memories of you breaking up, or... trying to break up with Anna that night coming back. The effortlessness of her grabbing the pen on the table and hovering it above the artery in your neck, paralyzing you. The ease at which she just easily thought about harming you like that still keeps you awake at night. Does your life and safety mean that little to her?

"I don't try to kill people; I do kill people. Give me some credit here, sweetheart."

She half-heartedly roll her eyes at you. Turning her body around to face you for a moment. "So, no. I didn't try to kill you. I was just keeping you in place for a bit."

When she faces you, her eyes begin to soften instantly just at the sight of you all curled up on the bed, using a pillow to shield yourself, chest filling with aching affection as a warm smile spreads across her face.

Oh, her sweet angel... she can't help but coo at you a little.

"You really thought I was gonna take your life, huh? Come on darling, I know I'm scary, but I'm not that scary. I hold nothing but love for you (name), and you should know that...."

"No," you scoff. "You're delusional if you think we're just gonna walk up there, happily wine and dine with you by my side, and pretend I'm fine in front of my family." you retort. You don't know why you keep egging at her like this, but you are not letting her get away with whatever fantasy playing in her head right now.

Anna stays silent for a second.

She blinks. Once, twice.

Slowly, she turns around again, facing the closet mirror. Neutral smile as always, but this time not really reaching her eyes.

She shrugs softly.

"I mean, it's up to you, really."

Her voice light and sweet as ever, but there's a certain the lack of playfulness in her response. The subtle shift in demeanor sends something up your spine, making you suddenly straighten yourself and sit upright on the bed, commanding your attention now.

"I just don't think your mother would appreciate coming here to our place for Christmas dinner... or the rest of your family either, for that matter."

Your brow slightly creases.

You know that she likes to keep up a sense of ease and lightheartedness in this "relationship" with you; you wonder if she really would have the leniency to let your family or other friends come over for the sake of playing normalcy with her.

But that's not what makes the uneasy pit in your stomach begin to form. Countless thoughts running at a mile a minute trying to predict where she's going with this.

"W-Why do you think that?"

You cringe internally at your stutter, pouring all hopes of looking unaffected in front of her down the drain.

"Hmm..."

She continues choosing between outfits... or at least pretending to. Mechanical movements a sharp contrast to her relaxed demeanor a while ago. The pit inside you getting queasier.

"I think... our dining table is too small, no? I doubt they're all gonna fit, everyone's gonna squeeze against each other..."

Honeyed voice drawing out her concern. She focuses intensely on your reflection in the mirror, gazing at your little rigid form on the edge of the bed. Watchful eyes taking in every single movement of your face and body, eyeing your every expression, no matter how small or subtle. Drinking it all in.

"...But no worries, I can make them fit."

She smiles gently.

"It's easy to create a lot of space when you remove some of their limbs."

silence.

You blink.

Then you stare at her.

Your eyes slowly move out of it's frozen state and then pick up the pace to being searching frantically.

You don't even know what you're searching for but you'll take anything at this point: twitching, flinching, smiling, something to give away that she's joking with that statement and in no way actually intently meaning to do something as horrific and sick as... as- as-

Oh god.

You feel the air get crushed violently out of your lungs, and suddenly you can't breathe.

Throat choking up and cutting off all your attempts to inhale properly. Sounds of your own shallow gasps reaching your ears and reverberating through your skull. The uneasy pit that started forming finally bursting inside the walls of your stomach. You quickly cover your mouth to stop whatever threatens to retch out.

Don't throw up, don't, don't don't, oh god- oh fuck. You coach yourself as you can feel your body start to heave uncontrollably.

You can hear her softly pad her way to you, fingers placing themselves on your hunched-over form. Tenderly stroking your head in gentle comfort.

"So what's it gonna be, love?" soft voice making you feel worse than actually soothing you.

"We can have a nice little family Christmas where everything's fine and happy, and we visit as the loving couple that we are,"

She plays with a strand of your hair.

" —or are you going to have to spoon-feed mommy dearest yourself when she has no arms to hold onto anything?"

More intense sobs wrack throughout your body. She's disgusting for being able to even suggest something like that to you.

Your hands come up to aggressively rub the tears away until your eyes are all red and scratchy. The mixture of tears, snot, and drool dribbling down and wetting the fabric of your shirt into a mess.

"B-blue..." you hiccup. "blue... dress."

She smiles and tenderly plants a kiss on your head. Lips lingering for a few seconds, enjoying the feeling, as she quietly murmurs into your hair.

"I was thinking the same thing."

[thepurpleclownz]

TW//BLOOD AND GORE

Machines Deserve to Bleed

Context: Gabriel kills V1 after their second encounter and he gets curious about what powers V1

Idk I was bored watching my siblings play at the trampoline park 😒

Content: blood and guts n’ stuff, bodily horror, mutilation, Gabriel being a fucking Sadist(???)

“Mere OBJECT!” With one final toss of his spear, the machine went down. Water splashed as V1 hit the pool below it face first. The familiar crimson color of blood leaked from the cracks and open wounds of V1, tainting the water surrounding its motionless body. It was done. The machine that caused Gabriel so much stress, the THING that nearly killed him, was dead.

Gabriel panted as he glided down towards the body of the robot. The feeling of calm filled the Angel's chest as he gazed upon his latest victory. Yet, a wave of curiosity crept up his back as he stared at the dead machine. What was the thing that kept it going? What did man put inside of it to keep its thirst for blood so intense to the point it seemed like it could never be quenched? This thoughts whispered in his head as he watched V1 Bleed out

With one powerful swipe of his hand, Gabriel snatched V1’s head off of its shoulders and smashes it against the hard solid walls of his palace. Metal, plastic, wiring, glass, and blood, splashed everywhere as he hammered in its face. The sound of metal snapping and breaking underneath his powerful hands sent a shock of joy through his fingertips. The feeling he hasn’t felt in years. To feel their enemy crush and deteriorate from his strength alone. Pure ecstasy.

Finally, the angel was able to weaken the already ruined exterior of the machine's head and dug his armored fingers underneath the broken metal. He tore his way through to finally see what was inside. Blood, wiring, and machinery… as expected. The now disappointed Angel dumps out the remaining pools of blood out of the broken head. As he poured out the remaining pool of blood out of the machine’s head, he saw something spill out with the rest of the blood.

Brain tissue… an eye… chunks of flesh, fall to his feet. Gabriel flips V1’s head to see the interior. A horrifying sight is seen. A head, if you could even call it that, was left mutilated inside. Its face was bloodied from Gabriel smashing it in. Its skull was morphed to be able to fit inside of the machine's exterior. Wires, nuts, and bolts, sticking out of its barely developed skin.

The angel dropped the abomination of man to the floor. Water and blood splattered as the shell of V1’s head cracked open. He takes time to process how man was able to manipulate a body to develop, twist, and turn to be able to fit into such a thin and complex shape. No human skull would be able to be crammed into such a small space as V1 without dying of some type of internal bleeding or brain damage. There had to be something deeper. Something that he was missing…

Gabriel loomed over the decapitated body of V1 and flipped it over with his foot. His eyes glossed over the deep wounds of V1. Gabriel kneeled over V1’s body and ripped open its chest plate. The crack of broken ribs echoed through the cold room as Gabriel tore through the carcass. He tore through as much as he could, studying how man managed to keep whatever was inside of V1 alive if it even was alive, to begin with.

Gabriel, after tearing open what was left of V1’s outer shell, gazed upon the gore he’d created. Broken bones, guts, organs, and machinery lay in the remains of the exterior like a bowl. His hands were painted with blood after he ravished V1’s body. Frankly, he’s done enough. V1 was dead. There was no point in continuing. Doing this wouldn’t kill him more.

Yet, there was this craving that still yearned to be filled. A craving fueled by hatred and anger. Deep down, Gabriel needed more. Gabriel then began to dig his fingers into the wet and bloodied organs of V1. He ripped and tore through the artificial flesh and tissue. He made sure to break and tear every aspect of what was inside of the body. He grunted at each harsh tug, stomped in every joint, and grimaced as he snapped its spine in half.

Then, it was done… All that was left was a broken deeply mutilated chunk of metal and flesh. A good chunk of water was tainted by the bleeding carcass. Gabriel’s armor was painted with the blood of V1. This was surely enough for him. This sick and twisted form of therapy Gabriel endured made him feel at peace with himself.

The thing that caused so much pain and destruction. The thing that massacred nearly all of Hell was a ball of flesh and metal before him. It deserved it. He had no regrets about doing that. It deserved to be like this. It deserved to bleed.

[disturbingstar]

Trigger warnings

As I said previously, I have not seen these films, but I’ve done my research, and I’m sharing this to hopefully help anyone avoid being triggered by them. I am in no way advocating anyone watch these; if anything, I’m suggesting the opposite, and I 100% believe the majority of these films should be banned.

Megan is missing

TW: Child abuse, stalking, graphic sexual assault, kid snapping, pedophilia, bodily harm.

Funny games

TW: Animal cruelty, stalking, child abuse, violence.

The human centipede

TW: Violence, kidnapping, torture, body horror.

Martyrs

TW: Child abuse, torture, gore, kidnapping, body horror.

Serbian Film

TW: Child abuse, child sexual assault, drugging, pedophilia, rape, violence.

The coffee table

TW: Infant death, bodily harm.

August underground

TW: Blood, gore, rape, extreme violence.

The green inferno

TW: Cannibalism, self harm, blood, violence.

(I’m a massive Eli Roth fan, but this is own film of his I point blank refuse to watch)

The Poughkeepsie tapes

TW: Stalking, kidnapping, bodily harm, torture, child abuse, child death.

A Clockwork Orange

TW: Rape, violence, torture.

Cannibal Holocaust

TW: Real animal abuse, rape, violence, female genital mutilation, cannibalism

*I'm not bashing anyone who likes these films, just sharing my own opinion*

[kronoose]

no need to say goodbye part 2

TW past child death cannibalism religion bodily mutilation loss of bodily autonomy 

Arthur shuddered at the noise he takes a few moments to recompose himself glad he couldn't see “can you call off the other bugs “ 

“A grin has spread across his face he is making his way towards the barricade”

“May I have a hand moving this barricade it seems this arm doesn't quite work right “

Arthur moves over to help move the barricade 

“he is watching us far too close for comfort“ 

Arthur nods slightly as he starts to move the furniture grunting with effort wincing slightly as something shifted wrong under the strain of effort and exhaustion

“Are you alright favored”

“Fine os- scratch “he said with slightly more bite then intended 

“He has tilted his head slightly like a curious dog you've almost move enough for him to slip through”

Arthur chuckled softly “that should be good enough”he raised a fist to his mouth to cover a yawn that escaped 

“He's moved to the opening you've cleared”

Scratch stepped through the door closing it behind himself leaving it open just a crack, as if leaving the invitation open for Arthur to follow an invite that was left unanswered as Arthur collapsed into a chair.

“I don't think I can drive but I also don't know if Oscar can drive ”

A deep laugh escaped from John “scratch has been trapped for 30 years I doubt he would be able to drive anyways “

Arthur laughed softly “probably not”his head jolts up as a series of thuds followed by sickening squelching 

“🎶a hunting I shall a hunting I shall go my favorite has ask me so a hunting I shall go🎶” an eerie mixture of Oscar and scratch’s voice floats through the cracks of the door 

Arthur shuddered “i don't think he's sending them off the way I ”he trailed off as his head drops down 

“you’ve done good Arthur you can rest now” a soft smile graces John's face as he keeps an eye out for scratch glad he can't hear much when Arthur sleeps

Arthur opened his eyes and glanced around the familiar office. It took him a few moments to realize he could actually see “john?” he waited a few minutes, the lack of response unsettled him deeply 

“Who's John papa?”a small familiar voice asked 

Arthur quickly turned towards the source he recoiled at the sight of her blue tinged skin her hair still damp resting on her shoulders “a friend Faroe dear” he stuttered out 

“You ok?”a bit of water falls from her mouth as she spoke oh so softly looking up to Arthur 

“Yes I'm fine“ he looked around trying to take it all in trying to spot if anything else was wrong, when he looked back he did a double take as he watched the colour drain from her skin turning to stone “FAROE!?”

“you have failed Me dada” a far too old voice for the body it's coming from answered “and for that you shall pay when I get him back you will never wake from the hell I will put you through “ 

“What are you”he glared down at this being using his child’s image 

“I'm a being of fear that will make your time in the prison pits seem like a luxury vacation” a dark smile graced her lips “and there's nothing that petulant king or that blood soaked demon will be able to do about it”

Arthur scoffed “I'd like to see you try”

“Would you like a taste of what I'll do to you when I hunt you down in whatever realm you find yourself in” 

With that she waved a tiny hand and the scene changed to a church Oscar stood behind the Dias palm facing the sky as he spoke “Take and eat this is My body” he lifts his severed arm and bows his head to the arm he paused for a moment before setting it back on the golden plate he raised a crystalline goblet the red liquid sloshing lightly “Drink from it, all of you. This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” he bows his head to the goblet. He set it down and nods to the man standing off to the side. Arthur turned to look over the man he'd not payed any mind to as he was a bit lost in admiring how hot Oscar looked in the robes 

A large man with graying brown hair who moved to lift the goblet as Oscar continued with the blessing of the blood and body 

Oscar turns to look Arthur dead in the eyes as he digs his fingers into his dismembered arm ripping a decent chunk of flesh away with a sickening noise he moved the bit of meat in the gesture of the cross over the goblet before dropping it in 

Arthur watched in horror finding he couldn't move or look away 

Oscar continued staring into his soul as he rips of a second piece repeating the sign of the cross before placing the bit of flesh in his mouth Oscar moves around the dais with his arm Arthur felt his legs moving as he started towards the dais he cups his hands with palms up 

“The body of Christ “ Oscar holds up a bit of his arm 

“Amen” Arthur respond without thinking allowing Oscar to place the bit of flesh in his mouth he chewed it as he went back to his original position he falls to his knees as he watched the not quite right patrons eat of the flesh every time the taste started to fade from mouth he was forced to return to accept this fucked up communion once more

It was the silence that woke Arthur “John?”he called out with a shakily there was a long pause 

“You're awake already?”the shock evident in the entity's voice “you should try and rest more it's only been an hour maybe two ”

“Where's Oscar i assumed he'd be back watching over us ”he shuddered slightly 

“he hasn't returned I heard him moving around a while ago “

Arthur nods “we should keep an eye on him who knows what we may have missed”he pushed himself out of the chair

“You're right but you still need sleep” john spoke firmly but with a gentleness 

Arthur said nothing as he made his way to the door 

“The bugs Arthur they're gone i can see marks of some kind i cant tell if they're claw marks or dents “

Arthur shuddered and moved his head slowly side a gesture that would seem like he was scanning his surroundings but hes blind so more accurate would be letting his demon scan the area “see him?”

“Not yet the hall looks less ominous in this lighting”

Arthur paused at the top of the stairs tilting his head listening for any movement from scratch

Both man and god are shocked at the smell of burning which prompted Arthur to take the stairs two at a time as they head towards the kitchen where they were greeted by the smell of burning worms

[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.