#speciesism tw

[zoe-and-quinn]

Vampire Whumpee P.2

P1 P3 P4

TW: Burning, captivity, sadistic whumper, nailed to a tree, gagged, restrained, dehumanization

The walk back to the hunters' camp felt like it took days. Whumpee's ankle was on fire, nerves refusing to die as their body tried to heal.

It wouldn't heal, not with the silver still clamping onto their bone. They tried to be thankful that their bones were immune to the burning agony, but it was hard when every step brought tears to their eyes.

They managed to make it to the camp with only a few stumbles, only a few shallow scrapes that were already healing. The sight of the clearing ahead brought a sense of relief.

Finally, no more walking.

The relief fled when they felt a hand in their hair, yanking their head back once more. "How about we get you nice and comfy, leech? Gotta make sure you won't be making any escape attempts when we're all asleep."

Whumpee whimpered, wanting so badly to beg for some form of mercy. But the sound only made the hunter grin, tightening his grip. "I think I have just the thing."

Suddenly, they felt the ropes around their wrists being cut, and their hands immediately went to the gag. If they could get just a few words in, they could make them understand.

The hunter grabbed their wrists tightly. "Oh no you don't," he growled. "I've got plans for these. Oi, someone get me one of those nails."

Whumpee's heart sank. They started pulling against the hunter frantically, trying to get away, away, away-

The hunter spun them around and slammed their back into a nearby tree, forcing all the air out of them. For a few moments, they just floundered, struggling to breathe, to see straight.

Then, they caught sight of a hammer, and the grin worn by its bearer.

Aaaand they were thrashing again.

"I'll hold its hands," said the hunter pushing them against the tree. "Make sure you get in between the bones, don't want it to rip its wrists in two."

Whumpee was sobbing, shaking their head as their hands were pushed up against the wood. The one with the hammer pulled a single nail out of their pocket, a long one with a wide head.

And then the point was resting on their pinned wrists, stacked on top of each other on that cursed tree, and they were crying, shaking, screaming, bleeding-

It went through their wrists easily, like a knife through butter. The tree was tougher. It took a few hits before the nail was deep enough to trap them like a pinned bug.

The hunter who had held them still was grinning as he pulled down lightly on their arm. "There you go, bloodsucker," he murmured, grabbing their chin and forcing their gaze upwards, forcing them to look him in his cruel, delighted eyes.

"Trapped and tamed. Just what monsters like you deserve."

Next part

Thank you to @scoundrelwithboba who requested a second part! Hope you like it!

[whumpster-dumpster]

hii hope youre doing well! could you do some sci fi whump prompts please? ^^

Sure thing! Since sci-fi has a wide range, the prompts are kind of all over the board:

Spaceship crash

Alien viruses or toxins

Otherwordly parasites

Laser or radiation burns

Prejudice between alien races

Alien interrogation/experimentation

Lost/separated on an unknown planet

Hunted down for collection as a "rare species"

Futuristic biomechanical implants malfunctioning

Telepathic whumper intruding in whumpee's mind

Space sickness (similar symptoms to motion sickness)

Punishment/imprisonment for breaking alien cultural rules

Painkillers/other medicines don't work for whumpee's species

Food poisoning; alien rations unsuitable for whumpee's species

Universal translator breaking; whumpee and other characters struggle to communicate

Alien caretaker(s) trying to treat whumpee's injuries and worsening them instead because they're unfamiliar with their biology

Spaceship systems malfunctioning: losing oxygen, losing heat, increased pressure of gravity, trapped mid-teleporation, etc.

[anarchogrind]

The death metal band “Cattle Decapitation” has a pretty interesting concept: as the name may suggest, the way they talk about violence towards men is a way of denouncing the abuses animals suffer from the mankind. The frontman Travis Ryan is openly environmentalist and vegetarian. It’s rare to find a popular band that open minded. Their covers are also really cool, as their music. Love it.

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

And this is just a bonus one I thought of but Grace and 24 Capitalism 👁️👁️

Story is also posted on ao3!

(tw capitalism, mentions of colonialism, mentions of racism/speciesism, trauma, mentions of cigarettes/alcohol, addiction, grief, past canonical character death, identity issues, implied dehumanization, hallucinations, unreality)

It's not as if they have a problem with expense. Fuck no, of course not. They can find the cash for their fucking war machines, their stupid goddamn spaceships, their love children born on a planet where they'll never be able to breathe the air. The cash for their guns and explosives, for their dozers rolling over the ground, for pressed suits and cheery propaganda vids and everything single one of the politicians in their pockets.

And oh, they've got the money for her as well, Grace knows all about it, a special set of funds to keep their little labcoat safely in line. The killing ground school, the botany book with a Na'vi face on the cover cause it's all just wildlife, doc, remember that, the cigarettes to keep her strung out and numb, the alcohol when that's not enough.

Never enough, not for them, sure as shit not for her. Her hands shake, she's fiddling, muttering, things slipping through her hands. Focus, Augustine, fucking focus. She's only got so many cigarettes, the 3D printers only work so well (as well as they're supposed to, heh). If Max is hiding them again she's going to fucking--

Cash. Right. Money, profit, power. Expense. They'll make a body, grow it in a tank like a promise, but if shit goes down, a bloody murder on a planet she can barely remember, happening six years and a million lightyears and last week ago--well, they can't take the fucking loss, oh no, they're going to stuff in some random jackass marine, pulled off one conveyor belt and shoved onto another.

Like it's that simple. Like it's all just meat, isn't it, they all are, deep blue company logos hanging heavy over her skin, sinking into her bones until she feels it even when she's physically out of the link. Jake Sully shrugging into his brother's skin and grinning at her, Jake Sully with Quaritch's brand stamped onto his soul, Jake fucking Sully coming out of the Soul Drive upload room with jagged, defiant eyes.

There are some things that cannot be bought, Mo'at says, her hand wrapped around Grace's throat. Not enough to choke, not enough to hurt, just enough to make the point, to prove that tonight, Grace was not worth the suffocation. I had thought you learned this, if nothing else.

In a way, the rejection had been a relief. No need to try and twist everything into a knot trying to justify the application into a knot, no excuse to get shot in the head months down the line for trying to grow a rogue body on company resources. None of Sylwanin's DNA, so no watching her grow in the tank that would be Sully's, no waiting to see whatever would be left if you hooked an empty Avatar into the Tree of Souls, if you'd get something like a return or nothing, nothing, nothing...

No breath. No life. No meat, or at least not enough of it to go around, not enough bodies to go around. Just cold, hard cash and an ache in the pit of her stomach as she scratches meaninglessly, thoughtlessly, because where the hell are her cigarettes. Where the hell are her--

A hand on her shoulder and she yelps, something undoubtedly expensive slipping through her fingers and clattering to the floor.

"Jesus, Marine," she snaps, because it's Sully, of course it's Sully, standing there with a stupid look on his face and hair slipping out of his braid. Grace shoves him off with a huff. "Personal space, remember?"

She turns back to her work, eyes narrowed. A stack of bundles...shells? Grace frowns. When had she been collecting shells?

"I don't suppose you know what happened to my cigarettes," she mutters, glancing up at Sully. He's still standing there, stiller than she's ever seen him, wearing an expression she can't quite read.

"Marine?" Grace waves her hand in front of his face, but he doesn't respond. "You read me?"

He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything there's another voice, young, feminine. "Kiri?"

Grace turns her head, frowning. There's a Reef Na'vi girl walking towards them, wearing Metkayina garb–Metkayina? When had the Metkayina been visiting the Omatikaya?

"Kiri?" the girl asks, looking worried--looking at Grace. She takes a step forward and Grace automatically takes a step back, feeling something skid under her foot (sand, not soil, where's the soil, where's the ground) and she falls with a curse, Sully yelping as he lunges to catch her.

"Easy," he says, but his hands are shaking. "Easy. Fuck. Okay." She can feel his pulse pounding, she can feel his panic gathering, she can feel the world moving and shuddering around her, she can feel everything, and she knows that--she knows--

"Reya, go get my mom and dad," Sully says, his voice taut, and there's the slap of feet against sand as the Metkayina girl runs. The slap of feet, and the thudding of waves, the howling of wind in the trees. Blood grubbing as Sylwanin heaves for air, as Tom Sully chokes out, as Neteyam--

--Neteyam--

Not enough bodies to go around. Not enough bodies, too expensive to look back, too much.

"Kiri." Sully's got his hands on her face, cool against her skin. Five fingers, strong and callused, resting lightly around the corners of her eyes. "You gotta breathe, Kir."

She can't. She's choking, she's choking on her first cigarette, she's choking on her own blood, she's choking on every lie she's ever swallowed with eyes sewn shut. She's choking on Sully's hand wrapped around her throat like a bad dream, like a memory.

"I've got you," he whispers, pulling her close. "You're not leaving us, Kir."

Kir. Kiri. Little atokirina. Little miracle, little secret, little liar, little ghost…

Over his shoulder she can see Tom Sully and Sylwanin (only it's not them, she knows this, she knows this just enough to wish she didn't) running her way. They're shadows, running, looking for the blood stolen from their veins; they're shadows, running, come to make sure she pays every single of her debts.

[mayaswiterblog]

Ghost - Poetry

Originally posted on Wattpad, 6 June 2021.

A person who's not here alive People see it yet no sense of feel Someone standing behind us high Yet of this world, it's not real A sinister Connection Beyond our comprehension Reaching out to me kindly Yet fail to touch me badly Instead, fazing the mind That's what it is It must cease A living memory of mine

[dumblesbiansworld]

Im all for promoting veganism but if you say that animal cruelty is as bad as literal human slavery /holocaust / systemic racism there is something seriously wrong with your belief system and I want you to take a moment to reflect on what youre saying. Like, ive heard white vegans literally say that non-vegans are as bad as racists...GIRL

[kit-williams]

Sighs

tw: pred/prey? institutional speciesism, smut, period stuff

RT OC: Pearl the Pelager (7'6 elementary school teacher turned mercenary; Won a sniper battle with a hunting rifle; Muscle mommy)

SOOOO This kinda got out of hand...

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @remembrancer-of-heresy

She didn't know if it was dumb luck or the Emperor's divine will for the number of Angels of Death that the Rogue Trader kept finding. But it always made the crusade that this adventure was turning into... given that she was certain that there was a living saint on board... and the number of Terran's that had shown up. Pearl just sighs as it feels like that the only thing keeping her on the main ship is purely the fact that she is part of the Rogue Trader's personal retinue. And even then with the Astartes on board she's been relegated to being "around" at least they recognized that she was an abhuman and not a xeno.

She closes her eyes and sinks into the salt water as the overly indulgent aquarium was some place she was allowed to get her skin wet and just oh the way her gills flared just felt good. Her third eyelid covers her eye as she feels like she's being watched seeing one of the Lord Angels watching her. Her tail tenses as she was just on the bottom of the aquarium letting the cleaner fish do their job... she was hidden away and he had found the right spot to see her.

Pelagers were uncommon... only really found in a cluster of ocean worlds not that many light years from Terra and practically the only type of human you find on fully aquatic worlds, aside from the... merciful planetary governors. She wants to stick her tongue out or swim over and tease the prying Space Marine... the Rogue Trader assured her that they knew that she was an abhuman... now if that meant anything wasn't sure and she wasn't going to tease someone watching her. She was just a barely legal mutant she just looked back at the black eyes watching her.... her tail moves as she just lazily swims to the top of the tank ignoring the way those pitch black eyes watch her.

Ah no wonder she's feeling so self defeating Pearl realizes that it was her cycle... well a few days with some sweets and off her feet. She pulls a loose tooth free feeling the new one already grow in, it slips from her fingers as she goes to put it in her pocket smelling something strange down one of the corridors. Her highly sensitive nose works better in the water but out of the water it was still better than a normal humans. As Pearl turns the corner she doesn't see behind her how someone picks up her dropped tooth before slowly stalking after her.

It took a little bit of wandering the corridors to find the small red smear on the wall. It smelt like blood... but not normal... She looks around and being satisfied with being alone she runs her wide tongue on the wall. It tasted off yet familiar... coagulated already but it wasn't any xenos blood... she turned her head following the scent and licking the spots on the walls as she tries to figure out what it is before... Astartes blood. She's tasted it before when sparring with one of the other prior angels. She crouches and tries to move as silently as she can slowly backing up as she will not be lured into another trap like this again! She is not a monster!

She turns to leave the way she came but those black eyes.... there was one behind her and one to her left. There was one missing but she pushes to the right before barreling down to the left. Bull pelagers could get to the size of small ogryns... sometimes Pearl had heard the apt description of water ogryn for Pelagers. She rushed down the Astartes letting out a deep chested growl as she snapped at the air where his head was as he moved out of the way but her feint worked as she scrambled down the hallway that he was trying to keep her out of. Pearl wasn't going to die like some Xeno or Mutant! She wasn't going to die alone in some part of the ship left to rot! NOT AGAIN!

Fear and instinct guided her as they were able to continue to corral her... they wouldn't fall for her bull charges. She slides looking at the fucking dead end in front of her... oh oh by the God Emperor not like this! She looks up in a panic at the vent that would be a tight fit but she wasn't going to die! The first jump she pulled the cover off throwing the ruined metal behind her as her heart was pounding wildly in her chest.

She used the wall to help her but it was too small to push in... Please God Emperor please... Pearl prayed as like some animal she tried to push herself into the vent as her boots couldn't grip the wall as her tail makes a whooshing noise behind her trying to help her, "Please Emperor please..." Her nails try to dig in as she can see them beneath her, "I'm not a monster..." Pearl whimpers trying so hard before her grip fails her.

Her tail slaps skin in her desperate struggles to get free after being caught. She bites in a panic as she feels one of them bite at her. She doesn't understand their words as they finally speak to her, her gills flaring as she tries to get more air into her body. One of her teeth get stuck into the skin of the one she bit, her dorsal is grabbed and pulled back as it takes one of them with considerable effort to keep the large female subdued. Pearl's heart jumps to her throat as she watches him pull her tooth out of his arm and she tries to babble her apology but its hard as his tongue is in her mouth lapping up the blood from the now vacant tooth cavity.

Her shorts get ripped as she moans feeling a tongue push into her bloody folds. Their gothic is a little dated but... it might be her... but she is certain one of them is calling her a good shark or was it good girl? Her tail slaps into the leg of the one holding her tightly and he just bites the area between her neck and shoulder. "Stay," The one holding Pearl tightly says before pushing the brother between her legs away and taking licks for herself. The fear subsiding leaves Pearl open to being hit by the arousal and her body realizing that she needs to orgasm again. She grips the white hair and can't stop herself from riding his tongue as she whines into that completion. Pearl is thankful that they keep their bites away from her nipples and her gills but she is almost overstimulated from the way their hands move over her. Petting her tail and her dorsal fin.... running their fingers so close to her gill openings on her chest and neck...

Her tongue lapping at their bleeding palms as they whispered to each other before Pearl whines as she is picked up and the they nuzzle her affectionately she thinks. But that was a distraction as Pearl doesn't remember passing out but she looks up at them when she wakes up having an idea of where on the ship that she is feeling once more pets on her dorsal fin and tail... and she can taste blood in her mouth and she's missing two more teeth. Pearl swallows softly at all the eyes on her suddenly and Pearl has a feeling... just a small feeling that she'll be doing unusual service for the Emperor for the next little bit... but if their gentle praises are included... Pearl will enjoy getting spoiled.

Another Astartes chapter to add to the “your on your period? Well get on your back and let him have a taste” club alongside the Blood Angels and Nights Lords are the Carcharodons. I’ve been reading the book The Red Tithe recently and it mentions that when a Carcharodon astartes catches the scent of blood it tends to throw them in a frenzy, causing them to succumb to a frenzied ‘blindness’ as they revel in it, a flaw of their geneseed.

Yesssss! Though I fear for our survival if an already somewhat apathetic space shark went full bloodlust feral XD

[jjjuuh-writes]

Ao3 fanfictions

Here is a gathered list of all fanfictions with links and warnings:

No Way Out TW! Child abuse, starvation, neglect, medical procedures, violense Reader x everyone(?) - Reader falls into the world of Underfell as a child and grows up with the two brothers until a sudden force drags them into a new alternate universe.

Puppy Love TW! Kidnapping, noncon, violence, broken bones, amputation, force feeding, yandere, dehumanization Reader x Yandere!Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Reader is kidnapped by Yandere!Coffee.

Inside The Batcave TW! Anal, smut, knotting Undertale Papyrus x Underfell Papyrus (EdgePuff) - Papyrus and Edge have a movie night.

Family Day TW! Speciesism, mpreg, mafia, difficulties with pregnancy, threatening, homophobia Mafiafell Papyrus x Horrortale Papyrus - The family of three spend the day together, enjoying their time despite some unfortunate events.

The Help TW! FDIA, non-consensual drug use, medical treatments, needles, puking Underswap Papyrus x Reader - Stretch needs to feel needed.

Conversion Therapy TW! Homophobia, dubcon, smut, blowjob Underfell Papyrus x Swapfell Papyrus - Father Money fucks Edge straight.

I will edit this as I go, but this is what I have atm :3

(lots of papyly oneshots)

[zoe-and-quinn]

Vampire Whumpee

Thanks to everyone who voted, hope you enjoy!

P2 P3 P4

TW; vampire whump, burns, trapped, hunted, gagged

The vampire was sobbing by the time the hunters found them.

The silver trap it had stepped in burned, metal clamping around its ankle and searing deep into the muscle. It had taken only seconds for it to burn deep enough that whumpee couldn't pry it off.

After a few minutes, the silver met bone.

Whumpee jumped at the crack of a stick breaking, head whipping around to see-

A whole group of them, all grinning at them like they were a prize deer they had just shot.

Vampire hunters.

Whumpee scrambled backwards, whimpering as the trap stopped their escape attempt in its tracks. Then, one of the hunters grabbed the chain and yanked.

Whumpee screamed as they were dragged towards the hunters, silver searing through flesh. The hunter dragged them into the center of the group, and there were so many of them.

"Well, well, well... look what we have here." The one who had dragged them reached down and grabbed their hair, forcing them up to their knees. Tears streamed from their eyes as their face twisted in pain.

"Someone get the gag!" the hunter ordered, and whumpee's eyes snapped open in terror.

"No, no wait, you can't-" they were cut off by a metal ring being shoved into their mouth and pulled tight, fitting right behind their fangs. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening-

Someone pulled them up to their feet, and they couldn't muffle their groan as they were forced to put weight on their ankle. "It's a couple miles to the camp, bloodsucker," someone behind them chuckled. "Guess we'll have a bit of entertainment on the way, huh?"

He shoved whumpee forward, and they only barely managed to avoid falling to the ground. They took a shaky breath and another step.

What else could they do?

Next part

[ringnea]

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought - from Arctic Monkeys - I Wanna Be Yours. Jevin’s old, so he’s seen a lot and expects very little. So when he’s invited to help the hermit’s own ghost crew with something, he’s so down to help. After all, driving the team and making sure they don’t die isn’t too hard. Jevin has no clue what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. AKA Jevin is dragged by the GIGS crew to ghost hunt not knowing that he’s going out on the field.

Hi hi, this is my first fic for @mcytficfight and @mcytmusicalbingo

TW: Ghosts, some bones, and gore mentioned (very light). Feeling alone even with others and a bit of dehumanization. Jevin isn’t human and not a hybrid either, he’s full slime trying to live in a human world. Oh and fantasy racism/speciesism.

ENjoy!!

[dont-call-me-doggy]

Sorry, I- shouldn't have blown up at you. I just-

Mutt is bad enough, but at least it's gender neutral. At least it's just an attack from one side...

Dog motif is ALWAYS sexual like that’s the point

[chatterbox-juice]

tw: mentions of fictional genocide, imperialism, racism, segregation, swearing

my aj rewrite is most likely aimed towards teens. I'm not kid-friendly (I hate kids but I want them to retain their innocence (2024 is a disaster of a year))

but yeah on the surface aj lore is fairly simple. phantoms bad. mira good. zios dead missing lmfao. but if you look deeper: ►►►►►►►►►►►►►

"Because animals were spread out in isolated villages, the Phantoms easily conquered these villages one by one. The animals soon discovered that if the Phantoms reached a Heartstone, they could imprison the animals of that species inside it! Each time the Phantoms captured a Heartstone, an entire species disappeared from Jamaa."

"The phantoms came through dark portals and they quickly spread through the uninhabited regions of Jamaa. Wherever the Phantoms went, they left a trail of spoiling destruction. Rivers were polluted, trees became bare, and the air was thick with noxious fumes. The Phantoms consumed everything in the environment and gave nothing back. They leveled entire villages the animals had built and left the entire civilization in pieces." ►►►►►►►►►►►►► ◦ this was said in the daily explorer. I'm pretty sure this is some form of imperialism and/or genocide, which is obviously not very kid-friendly, so I kinda want to lean into that more in more historical eras of my rewrite. BUT according to the wiki (yes, i'll use the wiki, i haven't touched the game in months/years):

►►►►►►►►►►►►► "It is unknown why the Phantoms came to Jamaa, but they cause destruction [wherever] they go. Their behavior of quickly spreading and imprisoning the other species suggests that they want control over Jamaa. This also provides an explanation for the initial lack of species in Jamaa, as most species were trapped by the Phantoms." ►►►►►►►►►►►►► ◦ so the phantoms could've been erasing species for shits and giggles, OR it could've been just straight imperialism

◦ oh yeah racism is also canon: ►►►►►►►►►►►►►

"But as time passed, things changed, Animals began to fear and mistrust other species. Some animals stopped living together as a united community. Soon, all the feelings of friendship in Jamaa were gone, and the animals built new villages for their kind only. Koalas lived and talked only with other koalas. So did rhinos. And crocodiles." ►►►►►►►►►►►►►

◦ also from the daily explorer ◦ maybe im reaching here but this shit sounds pretty racist/speciesism w some segregation. like, yeah someone could argue that "animals fear each other because on earth-" ◦ imma cut you off right there buddy. Jamaa isn't on Earth. this is most likely, if not canonically, a different universe that follows its own rules. and besides, you'll never see a cougar doing the carlton on Earth

◦ clarifying right now before i somehow get into deep shit that obviously my rewrite won't be for everyone. not everyone wants to see this silly childhood nostalgic animal game through this lens. but i do because im depressed and new year new me (it's october chatterbox...)

[toniko]

kromer and ncorp: racist, ableist or something else entirely?

tw: you play limbus company, you should know the tw… also it’s in the title really

now I’ve been wondering about some discourse on Twitter (I know, real healthy) but for a while Kromer has been generalized as racist. however, there has been a rise of people clarifying that her behavior is not based off of racism but ableism. but is either side wrong? and would speciesism be a better approach to kromer overall?

chapter 3 is stock example of transhumanism, which doesn’t specifically lend to either opinion. (i.e the belief or theory that the human race can evolve beyond its current physical and mental limitations, especially by means of science and technology.)

ableism as defined by Oxford is “discrimination in favor of able-bodied people”. so now the issue is defining what it means to be disabled or able-bodied in the project moon universe. but specifically in ch3, the robotic additions were to seemingly well-off able-bodied individuals as a quality of life addition. now I don’t doubt Kromer would be equally vile to those who added prosthetics because of disability, but the mass that we’ve seen her kill is regardless of if they were disabled prior. I also personally have issue with the association that prosthetics automatically indicates disability. however, thematically to the chapter, ableism could absolutely apply. ncorp inquisitors torture the cyborg civilians by mocking their body functions and declaring the cyborgs could never be as “human”.

then how about racism? well, I’d argue race as it currently is defined is the biological differences within a species. adding robotic parts. the general public seems to believe race can not be modified, and race is something that has many cultural implications and differences. no one quite classifies “cyberhuman” or “robots” as a human race yet…? however, shamefully among history is mass genocide of race because of race, which is reminiscent of ch3—it’s bigotry and genocide of people of a specific group. but if it is based on race? turns out the Kromer commentary (and extending to Ncorp) towards those who use robotic additions is almost a Venn diagram between things said in race and/or disability discrimination within human history.

speciesism applies much better than racism but follows a similar principle. it emphasizes on human superiority over other species such as animals… or in recent topic, ai and robots. it’s bias against robots and ai because it’s not human? yeah, especially if Kromer and her ncorp goons do not believe the cyborgs as humans. however, this specific subset of speciesism doesn’t really hold any importance except for like… ai use for businesses or the weird ai morality question. discussion on this also focuses on an artificial mind and the cyborg individuals in ch3 probably did not become artificial ai (if our good Sinclair’s family is any indicator).

is it possible that Kromer is actually a blindly bigoted person who doesn’t have an ideology that can fit any specific modern concept we have because she’s irrational? well, yeah that’s always been the thing anyway lol. in the end, it’s difficult to define what Kromer is specifically because it’s not as if she’s following the exact logic of being ableist or racist…that’s pretty human in a sad way. they’re not human to her because they’ve modified their bodies in some way… I mean, genuinely, social Darwinism might be the one.

there is always the religious aspect that is clearly there, I mean, there’s a tw on the list called “religious torture and violence” and “enforced ideology and/or actions”. the resemblance of this subset of ncorp being cult-like certainly adds more to it. perhaps I’d save that for a part 2, religious discourse is truly difficult to discuss and knowing Hermann Hesse (and having not read Demian), I would have more insight post-reading Demian on this subject

the ending statement is this; I myself am not disabled and I don’t think I’ve experienced enough racism in my lifetime to say the text in ch3 is reminiscent of my experiences. If you have, I’d love to hear opinions on this. If you haven’t, I’d like to hear from you as well. I also really don’t have time to read Demian right now or do more research, this is just to unload some thoughts on the matter. there might seriously be an exact concept out there that captures Kromer in her entirety already idk

[hibari-draws]

Sorry in advance, but I don’t have a therapist and I need to let this out somewhere.

tw fantasy racism

Please don’t come at me for this take, my intention isn’t to attack anyone. I know that media, fandom, and fanworks are not real life, etc. but serve as a microcosm of irl… My opinions don’t represent those of all poc.

I feel slightly uncomfortable with fantasy racism/speciesism allegories that try and emulate real-world discrimination but always fall flat bc it’s ordinary white ppl being mean to white ppl with vampire fangs or mermaid tails or green hair or ridiculous superpowers, all the while human poc are nonexistent, caricatures, OR exist in the story but the shit they go through is vastly glossed over by the writers as well as readers (they’ll literally be enslaved or be forced out of their home and the fan base will not give af about them!!). Some of these portrayals and fanworks will try to dig deeper and address topics such as micro/macroaggressions, which I appreciate, but it either feels hamfisted (making up racial slurs) or sacrifices nuance (I like the complexity of model minority and internalized racism because it hits closer to home, yk?). I think SOME ppl like to engage with such stories to play at progressivism without examining their own real-world biases against marginalized groups. Since this is to be expected with the demographics of fandom, I don’t take it too personally 🙃

I still believe that fantasy racism can be executed in a way that doesn’t sideline poc characters btw- I’m not totally against it.

There’s also something to be said about comparing groups with vast intrinsic differences (different species, magical powers) to actual minorities or immigrants, but I’m not awake enough to express why that feels off to me.

oh and the idea of there being obligate evil races (e.g. orcs) bothers me so so much 🥲

Again, I apologize if this makes anyone feel defensive and thanks for reading orz

[hemopseudo]

Can you please tag your human hate with TW: speciesism?

absolutely the fuck not

[bltzgore]

tag list: @d-cs​

Last - Next 

Tw: mentions of slavery and race/speciesism, panic attack

It had been three weeks, well something like that. ChainLink, Logan, whatever, had been trying to play nice with the members of the Allicos street agency. one of many companies, of sorts, that employed inhumans, non-humans, and beasts to protect the population on a somewhat freelance basis. The other factions didn’t have this, only intra-gen, it was seen as a very forward thinking way of doing things considering Hex R.E.M.’s outright racism and ID’s whatever it was bordering on slavery. So Logan counted himself lucky to be here, the camps prevalent in his younger years not withstanding. 

So all things considered, when Logan discovered they were going to some kind of agency appreciation bullshit PR thing he naturally assumed they meant the actual members of the agency. He had not counted on himself somehow scoring an invitation. He had asked Elliot, but she hadn’t said anything, knowing he thought these were as stupid as she did, which he did, but it was nice to be considered. 

Logan adamantly refused to give Caine the satisfaction of going to him for answers. He did not work at this agency, and Caine didn’t get to order him around. So Elliot went and asked instead. Yes it had been Caine. Apparently Logan had been seen around enough that if he didn’t come people would think something was up, and they, meaning Caine and Elliot, still hadn’t agreed on how they were going to handle Fission. So he was going to the party, yay.

As soon as they entered the foyer Caine grabbed Elliot and Logan, and dragged them to the side. “You two are going to be on your best behavior so help me God. No fighting, no swearing in front of cameras, no biting, no acid spitting...” he started staring directly at Elliot as he listed things consecutively for what may have been five minutes, ending on No killing. “Do you understand?” 

Logan thought she was going to just nod and be a good little soldier but he clearly misread the gleam in her eyes.

“So absolutely no spitting acid on the food, then complaining about it, swearing as part of that complaint, dragging one of ours through the mud by saying they must have made it because they’re a shitty cook just like they’re a shitty hero, and killing someone in my rage, right?”

Logan could see the steam coming out of Caine’s ears, then he breathed out. 

“No,” he whisper-growled, “Definitely none of that.” 

“Good. Just making sure.” She grinned. 

He pointed towards the sounds of party goers. “Go.”

So the two agency problem children meandered out into the party. Logan made up his mind, that despite how hard it had been to keep from laughing at all of Caine’s rules, he was actually going to try. He didn’t want to make trouble for the guy, not really, and not trouble like this. He didn’t like him, but he didn’t dislike him enough for that, and Elliot worked there. He didn’t want to start trouble for her. He was gonna be on his best behavior. 

Logan looked over at Elliot, while he had just picked a standard suit, poached from Steel of course, she wore something a bit more out of her comfort zone. All his life Elliot had been tougher than nails and fiercer than wolves, she had never really had femininity to her. She could be gentle when the situation required it, but Elli was just Elli, and he loved that about her. So to see her in a dress, that was definitely something to stare at. 

It matched Shakedown’s eyes, blue in a way that made water seem dull. Lined in all the right places with sequins that shined like scales. It fit her perfectly, but he knew better than to point that out. He knew no one else could see it, but when he looked, he knew the inability to stand still, the playing with her jewelry, and the occasional shifting and setting of her jaw meant one thing. Elliot was deeply, deeply, uncomfortable.  

His mind started to wander. He knew Elliot wasn't actually a separate consciousness from Shakedown. Despite the whole two names thing. Most people assumed it was just the novelty of playing like super heroes in the comics, pretending to have a secret identity or something. It was charming, but no one had secret identities these days. Thing was, she had told Logan why, only once. She had said she gave the beast a different name so that she could separate herself from those monstrous impulses. The ones that begged her to let them go and reduce the world to blood and rubble.

Until then it had really never occurred to him that Elliot had to work twice as hard to keep on her best behavior. So when he suggested seeing if they could get away with sticking a whole steak in the chocolate fountain it wasn’t just because he was getting bored of polite conversation, which he was, it was to give her a creative outlet for Shakedown.

They snatched a steak from the tin on the end of the table and rushed over to the dessert table. They were going over what they should jam it onto when Logan froze. All of his muscles locked up, it was so tense he was sure he couldn’t breathe, wasn’t breathing, should he have been breathing? He couldn’t look away but he was terrified they’d make eye contact.

It only took Elliot a moment to notice he was distracted and only a moment more to notice something was wrong. “Logan?”

He couldn’t look away, afraid that if he took his eyes off them they’d come closer. He be pinned! Hands about his head -he couldn’t breathe!!!- The pain in his ribs! It was coming back, it was spreading to his chest! 

She followed his gaze and understood immediately. Fucking Fission. Of course he was here, how had she not thought of this!? She shouldn’t have let Logan come to this stupid party! 

She didn’t want to be rough, but she couldn’t leave him standing there. She took him by the arm and started to pull him with her, her enhanced strength making it easy. She wasn’t sure where they were going, she just knew she needed to bring him somewhere away from all of it. Somewhere she could help him grab his rampant thoughts and get them back under control.

They stopped outside the bathroom and Logan was shaking, his breathing was heavy like he’d sprinted there. It felt like there was something in his throat, just wide enough to make it hard to get air in but small enough that air could be pressed in if he really tried. 

“Logan, can you look at me?” she asked gently. 

He tried to answer, but could only shake his head. 

“That’s ok. We’re going to work through this, everything is going to be ok.” She silenced her own racing thoughts and focused on the steps she had learned for helping victims at accident cites through panic attacks. “I need you to ground yourself here. Can you tell me about the clothes you’re wearing? Are they soft or scratchy? What colors are they?”

It took actual work to bring his eyes up, to fix them, then focus them on his sleeve. This wasn’t his hoodie, this was a dress shirt Caine had demanded he wear to the party, beneath Steel’s poached jacket. “It’s silky, kinda slippery, and gray.” He really didn’t think gray was his color but what did he care what he wore to get in here.

“Good, that’s really good. How about the floor, what can you tell me about it? What is it made out of?” She didn’t really know how many things he ought to identify, but she figured she’d just keep it going until he seemed calm enough to focus on leaving. 

“Uh,” He glanced down, “Some kind of rock probably, it's blue, I dunno what it is.” It was getting easier to speak, at least a little. 

“Alright Logan, we’re gonna head to the car ok? Think you can walk that far or do you want to sit for a few minutes?” She kept a light but steady grip. 

“I wanna sit down.” His voice waivered, still weak.

Elliot obliged him and joined him on the floor herself. She kept her hand on his arm, not grabbing, just resting. They had a signal when they were younger, one squeeze for all good and two for help. She didn’t know if he could think that critically right then, but she wanted to make sure she left the option open if words became too much again.

It was kind of hard for him to hear, his heart beat was thrumming in his ears, and his entire being felt like it was rocking with it. He was happy to sit, but he was still having a hard time coming back from the intensity of the reaction. He was starting to get tired, he didn’t want to stay here. Had Elliot said something about the car? He needed to get out of here. He noticed her hand and set his over it, his breath suddenly feeling like the marathon sprint had stopped. He was slowing down, he finally let his eyes travel up, first to Elliot, then they widened as they noticed someone had followed them out of the room. The air left his lungs again.

He squeezed her hand twice. 

She turned around her eyes darkened. She stood, and as she faced him her height increased by a full foot, her fingers turning bone white and scaley and spiked on the end with highly contrasting black talons. Her eyes matched her dress now, even at this stage well below half change. Her mouth wasn’t open but her growling rattled heavy through Logan’s bones. 

Elliot got a grip on Shakedown just enough to speak. The name came out sizzling a little around the edges. “Fission.”