acatwhowrites: (Xiumin♡Poufsouffle represent)
A Cat Who Writes ([personal profile] acatwhowrites) wrote2014-01-16 11:18 am

Sell Your Soul for Just a Piece

title: Sell Your Soul for Just a Piece
players: Do Kyungsoo/D.O.
word count: 1,000
rating: PG-13
warnings: semi-descriptive dismemberment
summary: Mob/crime AU. Kyungsoo makes himself dinner and contemplates his diet.
a/n: Based off of the mafia AU by donalducks on Tumblr. I just really liked the cannibal aspect of Kyungsoo, because I am a sick puppy, and I believe cannibalism is largely misunderstood. The film mentioned can be watched online. (Watch with caution. There are some iffy themes.) I pretty much gave up on this.






The bakery closed at 10 PM. Kyungsoo flipped the sign on the front door, pulled the shades down the large windows, and dimmed the lights on his way back into his kitchen. Baking ingredients were all neatly put away. The floor was swept, dishes washed, and Taemin, the last employee to leave, even finished the inventory and shopping lists. Kyungsoo grabbed a washcloth and dampened it to scrub at a barely noticeable smear of frosting before sighing, exhaustion threatening to settle on his narrow shoulders and pull him to bed.

From beside the large refrigerator, he pulled out a square cutting board, about 3 sq. ft. He wiped down both sides with a bleach wipe. There were a collection of knives in the kitchen drawers. He felt he just needed the carving, fillet, and boning knives and meat cleaver. After a moment's consideration, he also pulled out a meat saw.

The appeal of the building before opening his bakery largely came from the walk-in freezer. He could store hundreds of cupcakes and sheet cakes and ice cream cakes along with quarts of ice cream and still have room to spare.

The chill made him shiver, but he propped the door open and walked to the very back of his freezer, sectioned off from the rest by a sheet of plastic. The deep shelves held plastic-wrapped appendages. Whole legs, arms, and a torso sat stiffly, already skinned and too cold to smell or ooze. Kyungsoo hefted a leg into his arms and half-waddled half-jogged back to his counter island, dropping it with an exhausted huff. He pushed his bangs from his face and stalked back to the freezer to kick the doorstop away and lock it.

He tugged at the plastic until he found an edge. It crinkled and cracked, frost jumping away like popping corn. He peeled away both edges and pushed up his sleeves. He had to grab the frozen limb and lift it while pulling the plastic from beneath it, and it was difficult to do with how cold the thing was. He warmed his hand in his apron and threw the plastic away.

The brain and muscles were the best parts to eat. Muscles offered protein, and the brain provided slow-burning energy since it's high in fat and glucose. However, Kyungsoo was a bit leery when it came to the brain, beneficial as it could be when he had to spend long hours in the field. The gray matter held the highest concentration in prions, which gave rise to Kuru, a disease that affects the brain and nervous system much like Mad Cow Disease. He usually stuck with the muscles. Popular stories on the news always seemed to mention a caught cannibal eating a man's penis, which was plain ridiculous. It's a spongy thing with no nutritional value at all. Fingers and toes have too much cartilage; he chops them off and pitches them into the trash bag he would take to the pig farm later.

The torso was already gutted. Human organs hold no value food-wise, because they're full of wastes. The eyes contained an acidic solution that made humans sick and frankly just tasted bad. while removing them, Kyungsoo always remembered the silent Surrealist film Un Chien Andalou. He re-enacted the iconic scene with the moon and razor blade, slicing open the eyeball and watching the viscous liquid ooze from the lens. It smelled bitter. He never did it again.

He cut into the leg behind the knee, searching with the point for the joint. When he was impatient or just didn't care, he would saw the leg in half rather than carefully carve away at the knee cap and joint. Tonight, he had the time to carefully separate the calf from the thigh, femur from tibia and fibula. It took a bit of work, taking the leg with a hand on each end and bending it forward and back to work the joint loose, but he separated the two with relative ease and practiced patience.

The fillet knife was good for slicing away meat from bone. When frozen, everything was stiff and hard; his hands turned numb, and he stopped to warm them in his white apron every few minutes. He couldn't let the leg thaw for too long, however, otherwise it would start to smell and would be too soft to work with.

It was much easier to dismember and butcher a body these days. His first experience flashed in his mind. No matter how focused he tried to be, that instance always managed to invade his conscious, bringing along the guilt, regret, and resolve.

He was a survivor.

He was resourceful.

He was an opportunist.

He was not evil.

Too often, the media presented stories of "cold-hearted killers." No matter who or how they killed, the bottom line was a line was taken, and no one but God should have that power. It didn't even matter if it was an act of pure survival instinct. True, that reasoning could only be used once, in most cases; Kyungsoo's included.

It just seemed like too much of a waste to let perfectly good meat rot in a shallow grave or murky swamp.

He swung the cleaver down, hard, bisecting the femur with four sharp strikes. Breaking the bone in half, he dumped the cleaned pieces into the trash bag with the discarded fingers and toes. Brushing the wet bone dust into a pile, be cleaned the board and meat as best as he could, pushed the meat to a corner of the cutting board, and began to separate the muscles from the lower leg bones.

Nearly an hour and many numb fingers later, Kyungsoo had the bones and silver skin wrapped in the trash bag, the meat cut into strips and slices and chunks, and a small pile of meat in a bowl to be washed and floured for dinner.

Taking the time to prepare food was a luxury he never took for granted anymore. Raw meat just was not the same as a carefully marinated and cooked meal, complete with sides and drinks.

He wouldn't change his diet for the world.


a/n 2: The bit of butchering done here is based off my own experiences with deer and elk, which is vastly different from human, I'm sure, but it's something.

Fun fact: Cannibalism is not illegal in a lot of places. Most people get nailed for desecration of a corpse, murder, and/or necrophilia. Cannibalism is just the consumption of human flesh. It does not include killing the person, which many people associate with cannibalism when hearing about it on the news. Some people willingly volunteer to be the victim in cannibalism, which made the Armin Miewes case difficult to handle. (Miewes is serving a life sentence and has become vegetarian while helping the authorities understand the cannibal culture in Germany. Nice fella.)

January Jones performed an act of cannibalism on herself when she ate her placenta after giving birth to her son. It's not unheard of, but it is uncommon, I believe. There's no need for humans to eat the placenta; we're not like animals in the wild who need the nutrition.

Actually, eating too much human meat is potentially bad for you. Messes up your organs. There's also a disease called Kuru, which is pretty much the human version of Mad Cow. It's what killed a bunch of the cannibalistic tribes. There are very few left, but cannibalism is still a part of their culture. It's usually ritualistic or part of a superstition, such as in the Korowai tribe in Papua New Guinea. In their culture, there is a thing called a khakhua. It takes the shape of a close friend or relative of their victim, slowly eating their organs and replacing them with ash so the person doesn't know they're being eaten. The khakhua kills the person by shooting a magic arrow into their heart. Usually, the victim tells their family who the khakhua is, and the relatives eat the khakhua.