#fantasy racism

[kiragecko]

The Husband is reading Feet of Clay to nq (our eldest) and me. I last read it over a decade ago. What's hitting me this time is how Pratchett likes hammering his point home through multiple channels.

-

This is a book about respectability politics, discrimination, and privilege. The golems are the A-plot, loosely standing in for trafficked people/undocumented immigrants. (They also share some similarities to disabled experiences.)

But the book has SO MANY subplots, all sending the same message!

-

Cheri is constantly kicking down - trying to figure out how to survive as a dwarf in a human-centric city, while badmouthing the undead. It has echoes both of assimilated immigrants turning on newer, less acceptable ones AND 'normal' gays trying to distance themselves from the 'weird' queers.

The key to Vetinari's poisoning is recognizing the classist forces acting on the palace servants/the residents of Cockbill Street. How their desire to stay respectable holds them down, keeps them hungry and meek. How a healthy powerful man can survive, but a poor baby and old woman are vulnerable. And we see how they kick down as well - tormenting William Scuggins, who seems to have been either mentally disabled or mentally ill, for entertainment.

And the royal plot is contrasted with Vimes' mutterings about how the common people suffered under royalty but are still attracted to it. How they seem to WANT someone above them. Sure, some people might suffer, but nobody thinks it will be THEM, so it's fine.

-

Reading it again makes it almost unbelievable that people were trying to suggest Pratchett would be anti-trans. Right after Cheri comes out, Angua takes her to an undead bar, where it's repeatedly mentioned that people who "can't pass" can "be themself." When she chooses her new name, Angua thinks about how most people wouldn't have associated that name with someone with a full beard, but now they're going to have to. It's not subtle.

(There's also a woman with dementia there, in one of the books examples of how NOT to kick down. Pratchett doesn't DIRECTLY focus on disability this book, but there are a lot of little moments. (All the golems use AAC!))

-

I don't know. I'm just struck by how intersectionalist Pratchett's politics were. How this story can have 4 very different plots going on at the same time, but all of them have the same message.

He was a really great writer.

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Weiss's Unfiltered Opinion

Weiss: We are NOT Letting that cat back in our team!

Ruby: Weiss, WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!

Weiss: Nu-Uh!

Ruby: What's your beef with her anyway!

Weiss: I'm not comfortable having "PEOPLE" Like Her around.

Weiss: You know what I mean?

Ruby: No, not Really, I think she's a chill Gal.

Weiss: THOSE PEOPLE ARE NOT CHILL! They are DISLOYAL! They also STINK Cuz they don't SHOWER! I don't want to be Near them!

Ruby: Woah, Calm down Weiss!

Weiss: NO! I am NOT letting that litter-born, Fleabag, Collar-Wearing, SCRATCHER in our Community!

Yang: *Sharply Inhales* Damn, That was a Hard R.

Jaune: That wasn't even like her casual racism- That's like Belligerent Racism.

Yang: In the middle of Faunus History month too, Goddamn.

[ridreamir]

Nebarra has no romancing option. This isn't an accident. That man has years of Dominion-brainwashing and race purity education behind him, and it's not going anywhere. Well that's too bad. Watch him go through the five stages of grief as he realizes that he likes a bumfuck nobody from out in the middle of the boonies that is supposedly the ever-glorious mortal reincarnation of a false man-god. Worse yet, liking you is essentially liking an overpowered -overgrown- lizard. You might not be an Argonian (unless you *are*) but you're for all intents and purposes just a dragon with arms and legs and an annoying voice to boot. He is melting inside and he will not outwardly express it as he is so staunch on his morals that he wakes up every day in a cold sweat.

If he even sleeps. The helmet hides the fact that he's got eyebags darker than oblivion because of you.

[cats-and-confusion]

I think this would have happened at some point yeah. ignore how shitty this is

+10 respect from Chilchuck

[saym0-0]

guh thinking about political marriage flower husbands again,, thinking about the implications of both seablings, the least humanoid of the rulers, being the only ones (and their spouses ofc) to engage in a political marriage between emperors, perhaps because despite bring literal gods, their citizens are viewed as lesser by many citizens of other empires due to their aquatic/amphibian nature. so to gain that respect and even footing they had to get married, solidify that alliance and prove that other emperors view them as equals too. or something. idk.

[nekropsii]

One of the weakest Homestuck criticisms I see pop up every now and then is that the Hemoloyalty system is bad because “it’s not a clear-cut metaphor for any one specific real-world bigotry.” Acting as if it is a poorly made example of Sci-Fi/Fantasy Racism since it’s used to cover and express Racism, Classism, Xenophobia, Misogyny, etc.

It always makes me wonder if they’re new to fiction that contains Fantasy Racism, because Fantasy Racism systems covering multiple bigotries is entirely normal. It’s the standard, even.

You know.

Because that’s how actual real world bigotry operates?

For example… Racism does not stop at a judgment of skin color. It never just affects how your race is perceived and then stops before it dips into any other bigotry. Racism is almost never “Oh, ew, you’re brown,” with no other follow up. It’s a long series of assumptions and judgments made on your (perceived) race. Racism is deeply entangled with- you guessed it!- Classism, Xenophobia, Misogyny, all kinds of things.

Classic examples of Racism include:

Having your expressions of femininity and womanhood denied or fetishized based on your race, which happens quite regularly to Black and East Asian women in particular,

Suspicions towards Black people in middle class-rich suburban neighborhoods/gated communities, based on the assumption that “they could never legitimately afford to live there” so they “must be trespassing and/or a criminal”,

… And nutjobs screaming at people who are Latino or Arabic, or they perceive as Latino or Arabic, to “go back to their country” whether or not they were actually born there.

Are these all derived from Racism? Yes! But are they also combining forces with a different bigotry to help strengthen that racism? Yes! This is how it works! Fantasy Racism often has their fictional bigotry cast a wide net of judgments and assumptions that wind up making it all look very messy and unclear and containing multiple bigotries because that’s how it works in real life! You cannot in earnest say that a fictionalized bigotry system is bad because it “isn’t one clear cut thing” without looking like a moron. Are you sheltered? Have you only put one lone dying brain cell into this? Have you never experienced bigotry before, or thought about how it operates? I fear that you may need to do some reflecting!

[infernumequinomin]

"Kipperlily hates Riz because she's got a crush on him," this, "Kipperlily hates Riz because he somehow snubbed her," that... First of all, this boy imprinted instantly in a bully throwing him in a trash can thinking they could be friends, Riz wouldn't just forget someone he met in any sort of positive or negative way for zero reason. If they met, even if she didn't make a huge impression, Riz was SO desperate for companionship in Freshman year I don't think he'd have forgotten or ignored her.

I think a lot of people are forgetting the complexity of Riz's story as a poor kid who is of a "monster race" going to somewhere like Augefort through sheer working really fucking hard on the part of both him and his mom, and that they have explicitly in canon faced adversity both for their financial class and race. One of Riz's driving forces to do really well this year is so he can even GO to college. Sklonda EXPLICITLY lost her pension from YEARS of sleepless nights working as a detective and working her way up through the ranks this year (and I don't think it's something to overlook that Kipperlily's mom works as a county clerk and may have had some say there). I think Kipperlily may just be a graden variety privileged bigot who thinks some "gutter scum goblin shouldn't be in classes with normal people." And that a lot of her work with Jawbone has probably been unpacking these internalized biases.

Like, from the outside, the Bad Kids were ressurected by the principal the very first day of school, throwing the whole school into chaos and got DETENTION for it. Riz not only killed, but ATE the vice principal, after they defeated Kalvaxis! They were all on the verge of failing if they didn't complete their Sophmore year spring break project (it was 70% of their grade or some insane shit!), and while most of them may still have passed, Fig and Kristen DEFINITELY needed that credit and that is mentioned in the season, Adaine is insanely stressed about them completing their quest for "school credit".

If Kipperlily grew up rich and entitled, with all the biases about poor people that can grow (especially if her dad's real estate office owns Strong Arm Apts and she thinks of it as a slum, because it's kind of described as low income public housing lbr here) and saw that some lower class goblin was EATING PEOPLE after defeating them (you know, like a monster does, clearly not taking any time to understand his motivation OR culture), and getting preffered treatment because the principal just happened to LIKE HIM and his party (because they took the time to become closer to him over the years and Augefort clearly values students who will absolutely kick his teeth in bc adventurers are "insane violent psychopaths" citation: the Seven), and breezing through his classes without doing ANY of the work (because she doesn't SEE the work or the sleepless nights or all the stress he's taking on for others) it absolutely tracks for her to grow this huge chip on her shoulder about it and for it to reinforce these biases she may have already had about goblins and esp abt POOR goblins like Riz.

I don't think Riz did anything wrong. I think Kipperlily just has shit to fucking work thru in regards to how she views the kinds of people she doesn't know or has had no opportunity to associate with. Even among her party, they're all rich to middle class for the ones we know the class of. She's 17 and has a bunch of internalized biases, likely from her upper middle class upbringing, and major anger management issues. Idk it just makes sense to me. I met all kinds of girls like her in college who were type A to all shit who resented me for seeming to "have it easy" despite how hard my life should have been coming from a poorer background than them.

[master-jarrus]

Real debate that should be happening with ColexGeo

Also what's with the writers doing any food made by a non human as sludge/mud?

[guardian-of-da-gay]

What Lies Unspoken

Read on Ao3

For Whumptober 2024 Prompt 24: ALT: Secrets Revealed

tw for fantasy racism, hate crimes, assault, family drama

They couldn’t even get inside the house, there were so many flowers and offerings. Complete strangers made for a massive but quiet crowd, all there to grieve and honor Longclaw on this Remembrance Day.

Knuckles pulled his hood close. He looked at his exposed spurs and quickly tucked his hands out of sight in his cloak. This was not the time or place to be a proud echidna. He kept his head down and hung back.  Maddie kept whispering that he could come closer.  Sonic wanted him here. Sonic felt weird with all these strangers here, he needed his family. Knuckles needed to be supportive.  And Knuckles whispered back that he was being supportive.

Sonic dismissed his concerns earlier.  He said that if anyone gave Knuckles trouble, he would explain that Knuckles was there with the blessing of Longclaw's apprentice. He also said he doubted there would be anyone there.  He was hugely wrong.

Knuckles doubted Sonic's word would mean anything to a crowd this size. If just one of these people realized there was an echidna there at Longclaw's shrine... Well, he'd had owl worshipers throw rocks at him before, he couldn’t imagine what a crowd this size would do.

No, being supportive meant not causing a huge, ugly scene when Sonic was here, for the first time in a decade, to honor his fallen mother.  That was why he wasn’t the only one disguised.

He had insisted Tom and Maddie cover themselves. Frustratingly, they had resisted until Tails backed him up. The galaxy could be very dangerous if you were noticeably Different.  Tails could get by.  He was an unusual fox, but he was a fox .  Humans were unknown and would draw far too much attention.  Wearing hooded ponchos with scarves, they passed for scavengers… Which were still unusual to see at Longclaw’s shrine, but at least the crowd gave them a wide berth and avoided looking their way.

Knuckles saw someone steal a look at them and resisted the urge to adjust the scarf over face. His hands are far more recognizably echidna than his face, he must keep them down and concealed.  He just had to make it through this.

There was a service.  A Babylonian raven perched on a branch across from the treehouse and extolled Longclaw’s virtues.  He spoke of her life.  How her people were whittled away by war until only she remained and she was so very brave.  How she built this secret life for herself alone in the woods for she was so very wise.  How she took on an orphaned child as an apprentice for she was so very giving.  She was kind.  She was patient.  She was so very, very good.

“In her last act, she rid the galaxy of that vile race: the echidna.”

The Wachowskis all grew tense.  Sonic and Tails looked at Knuckles, but Knuckles did not look back.

“It broke my heart to hear that one had survived when she did not.  But eventually the universe will right itself again.  The evils of the echidna will be extinguished forever!”

Knuckles grit his teeth.  He would like nothing more than to throw off his cloak and say that Longclaw had extinguished nothing!  Despite the best efforts of her ‘vile race’ and all their followers, he was still alive!  But he bit his tongue.  His cheeks burned with shame.  He would have to apologize to his ancestors later, but Sonic was part of his tribe now.  He must bear this insult to be supportive .

The raven seemed to be winding down at last.  “Though the forces of evil reached out and took her from us, we must always remember the good brought to the galaxy by the final sacrifice of one owl.  The owl warrior, Longclaw the Generous!”

Maddie grabbed his shoulder and Tom shifted closer to him. He wasn’t sure of the intention but he felt... something.  Something unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

There was some scattered applause as people didn’t know how to react to this finale.  The raven took off from his perch and joined the crowd on the treehouse railing.  The silence that had prevailed until then broke and people began to speak among one another softly.  The congregation that had been so still came alive, with some moving to leave and others moving in to speak with the raven or to pay their respects at the shrine.

Sonic turned to the rest of the Wachowskis.  The glance he shot toward Knuckles was quick, but not quick enough that Knuckles didn’t catch it.  He was aware that the other Wachowskis were looking between the two of them.

“Okay… I think it’s time to get going.”

Knuckles would like nothing more, but he had a mission.  He was going to be supportive!  “Have you paid adequate respects?”

“Yeah…”  Sonic’s voice was high and strange.  “I think I’ve seen as much as I need to today.”

“Wait,” Tom held up a hand.  “Did you two… know about this?”

“Know about what?”  Knuckles and Sonic said at the same time but in very different tones.

“About the whole…”  Tom lowered his voice and stooped, which only succeeded in drawing more attention to him.  “Longclaw was… killed by echidnas?”

There was a long moment where they all just looked at one another.  Tails looked confused.  Sonic looked a mix of distressed and guilty.  Tom and Maddie looked like they were expecting shock.  Finding none, Tom’s face shifted to outrage.  “Wait, you knew?!”

Knuckles started at his tone.  “You didn't ?!”  He looked to Tails, but the fox seemed just as surprised.

They all looked to Sonic who winced under their combined gaze.  “Uh… I forgot?”

“ Sonic ,” Maddie scolded.

“Look, when was I supposed to tell you that?  During the wedding-crasher avalanche?  The giant robot battle?”

“After. Sonic. You tell us after . It has been months ,” Tom hissed.  He looked to Knuckles accusingly, then to Tails.  Sonic stepped between them.

“It didn't come up organically!”

A Babylonian goose stretched out his neck into their space to scold them.  “Excuse me, this is a memorial .  Please keep your voices down!”

“Sorry,” Maddie rushed to apologize.  She grabbed Tom’s shoulder and Knuckles’ arm and pulled them both in close so she could lower her voice.  “I don’t think this is the place to discuss this.”

“I don’t know, Maddie, I’m kind of freaking out over here,” Tom said.  “Longclaw–”

“Tom,” Maddie warned, “this doesn’t have to mean anything.  It’s not like all echidnas know each other.”

“I knew them,” Knuckles was quick to correct.  “They were my tribe.”

He didn’t know why, but Sonic cringed.

“Oh… So you… You had family there?”  Maddie asked.

“My entire family.”

“Which was like… barely twenty people,” Sonic waved a hand, but paused the motion halfway as though even he found his flippancy distasteful.

“It was fourteen people,” Knuckles said.  “Longclaw killed them all.”  Maddie’s hand squeezed on his shoulder.

Sonic’s lip quirked back slightly as his ears drooped.  “She was defending herself,” he said in a quiet voice.

Knuckles had just listened to a sermon that praised the elimination of his people as one of Longclaw’s many accomplishments and held his tongue.  Perhaps that was why he forgot his mission to be supportive and said: “That is cold comfort when all my kind are dead.”

Sonic looked away.  He was doing a better job holding his tongue, but his thoughts might as well have been written on his face.  They deserved it, he thought.

Knuckles looked at the rest of the Wachowskis.  Tails wouldn’t meet his eyes either.  Maddie’s gaze flit between him and Sonic and back again.  Tom was looking at him like he’d never seen him before.  That strange feeling was back.  Knuckles felt hot and cold all at once.  Though the cloak concealed his face, he felt exposed.  He was so distracted by the sudden pit in his stomach, he didn’t sense someone behind him until there was a hard yank on his cloak.

Then he was exposed for real.

Everyone froze, Knuckles included.  The crowd was large enough that those further away hadn’t noticed any, but those nearby were too close not to see.  Several of them gasped.  Knuckles held his breath  Normally he would strike the one who’d touched without permission and then tactically retreat.  But he was here with the Wachowskis, in support of Sonic.  He did not have a precedent for this. …Maybe the respectful atmosphere would deter any outbursts?

“An echidna!”

Or not.

The crowd rippled as heads turned.  Knuckles grabbed for his hood and pulled it up again, but those closest were already pointing and speaking.  The Wachowskis instinctively closed in around him.

“There!”

“Could it be–”

“Didn’t get a good look–”

“It wouldn’t really come here –”

“I saw!”  The goose honked, pointing with one heavy wing.  “I heard you!”

“Hey–”  Maddie started.

“You saw nothing.  You heard nothing,” Knuckles insisted.

Sonic darted between them, holding his hands up.  “Look, I’m Longclaw’s apprentice–the orphan she took on?  I brought him here.  I say he’s allowed to be here.”

“Could that be true–”

“Wouldn’t she adopt another bird?”

“No follower of Longclaw would ever associate with an echidna!”  The goose thrust his beak into Sonic’s face, forcing him to lean back.

It was Tom’s turn to insert himself.  “Hey, we’re just here to pay our respects, just like you.”  The goose’s feathers fluffed.

Knuckles raised his fists, uncertain.  He wasn’t sure how to handle a situation where he wasn’t allowed to fight.  But it seemed like a fight might be coming anyway.

“It is an echidna!”  Someone yelled.  “Look at his hands!”

Oops.  Knuckles lowered his hands again, but it was too late.  The crowd was shifting uneasily.  Some people grabbed their children and urged them away, others shoved closer.  The angry voices increased, enough that it was getting hard to tell apart individual words.  Knuckles could only hear ‘echidna’ said over and over.

“Okay!”  Sonic turned to the Wachowskis, his wide eyes betraying his joking tone.  “We should definitely get going before this gets ugly.”

Knuckles was attacked from behind.  Talons grabbed beneath his quills, claws slicing into his skin.  Surprise had him drop to one knee before he knew it.  Instinct told him to retaliate first.  He lashed out.  The raven preacher was thrown back with a squawk.  Before he could stand, the goose was on him.  He lashed out with his wings.  Knuckles raised his fists to block the worst of the blows.

In a flash of blue, the goose was gone.  Someone fell on Knuckles and grabbed him.  He snarled and swung wildly.  He narrowly missed hitting Tom in the face.  The human was shielding Knuckles while Sonic ran interference and Maddie lifted Tails above the frantic crowd.  Half the congregation was trying to get away while the other was surging forward, trying to get to Knuckles.  Knuckles looked around for an escape.  He took in the forgotten treehouse, the flowers getting trampled.  Oh.  Knuckles was ruining this.  This place was meant to be sacred to Sonic, and Knuckles was ruining it.

Tom let out a labored wheeze as he lifted Knuckles up and the next thing Knuckles knew they were falling–through a warp ring.

His belly flipped unsettlingly as gravity shifted around.  They landed in a bush just outside the Wachowski house.  Tom let out another wheeze when Knuckles landed on him.  Beside them, Maddie yelped.  Sonic jumped through the warp ring while Tails flew down.  The angry voices grew more indignant on the other side of the portal, but no one tried to follow.  The golden ring closed and they were left with the quiet of evening cricket song.

“Good thinking, Tails,” Sonic praised.

“Thanks…” Tails landed beside him.  “Um.  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!”  Sonic let out a high laugh.  He crossed his arms and looked away quickly, toward where Maddie was struggling out of the bush.  In an instant he was beside her, helping to pull her out.

Knuckles got up before he could be offered help.  Tom groaned behind him.

“Are you okay, Dad?”  Sonic asked, rushing to his side.

“I feel like an anvil with quills fell on me, but I’m fine.”

Maddie was beside Knuckles with a speed to rival Sonic’s.  “Knuckles, are you–”

“I’m fine,” Knuckles lied.

“Great.  We’re all fine!”  Sonic reported.  “Let’s not do that again.”

“Do what?”  Tom asked as he struggled out of the bush.  “Lie to us for months?  I agree, let’s not do that again.”

“I didn’t lie,” Sonic insisted.  “I just neglected to tell you!”

Tom looked at Knuckles.  “And you didn’t think to mention it?”

Knuckles bristled.  “I thought Sonic had already done so.”

Tom looked like he was going to respond with something angry, but Maddie cut him off.  “Tom, this isn’t Knuckles’ fault.  Sonic is the one who knows better.”

Sonic didn’t know better about anything than Knuckles!  Well, except for how to relax.  And Earth customs.  And about Tom and Maddie.  Was that why he had hidden the truth of the war over the Master Emerald?  Had he thought Tom and Maddie would not accept Longclaw’s ancestral enemy into their home?  Was Knuckles’ admittance to the Wachowski tribe based on a lie?

“I… I knew too,” Tails volunteered.  “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”  He wrung his hands anxiously and looked to Knuckles.  Their eyes met and it seemed they both knew what would happen next.

Knuckles had had enough of this exchange.  He waited until the hedgehog was in a heated exchange with the humans over his punishment for this deception, then slipped away.  Only the fox watched him go, his eyes wide and apologetic, ears slowly drooping down.

Knuckles was experiencing that same unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling he had felt when the preacher spoke and Tom and Maddie had shifted around him.  It was as though he was suddenly aware of himself and what he was, his people, their history.  He was used to being hated by strangers, but he had never had it laid out at the feet of anyone he cared about.  What did the Wachowskis think of what the raven had said?  They’d belonged to Sonic before Knuckles joined them.  On some level, they probably agreed with the preacher.  Longclaw was so very good, so good she had rid the galaxy of all but one of the evil echidna.

[ciderjacks]

this manga really doesn’t play sometimes

[walks-the-ages]

I still can't get over people defending "Inherently Evil Fantasy Race" in 2024 when people by saying, without a shred of irony or deeper thought into their ableism, that:

"[Inherently Evil Fantasy Race] are not ontologically evil, they're just all naturally born narccicists and sociopths and that's why they're all individually evil for every single one we see, except for a handful of half-elf hybrids that are used textually to justify eugenics"

🤦

You can't try to defend an author's racism by claiming their Fantasy Race isn't Inherently Evil, if your "evidence" for them not being Inherently Evil is that...

... based on absolutely nothing within the text, you've personally decided that the entire Fantasy Race is just, on an individual level that nevertheless encompasses the entire Fantasy Race

"they're all just Demonized Mental Illness #1 and #2 and thats why they are Evil"

[animentality]

I saw Elemental and while it was far better than it looked, I had some issues.

First off, fantasy racism is hard to do properly because most writers make the fatal error of making the oppressed people too powerful.

Like X men. Oh, it's a metaphor for racism against black people in America...except black people don't shoot fucking death killing laserbeams from their buttholes every time they take a fart.

Or say, Zootopia. A well meaning allegory, but it still implies people of color are actually a threat to the rest of the population???

Like I don't care if a "bunny can go savage."

You still present the oppressed race, of predators, as being scarier and bigger and more easily able to hurt others.

So Elemental had the same issues.

It basically said, well, the fire people are the last wave of immigrants. They are discriminated against the most because they are new. They speak another language and no one likes them because they burn things and they can hurt the rest of us, so we keep them in these segregated communities, that are more fire safe.

Now here's the issue with that, if you haven't already noticed...

Once again, we get a race of people who are a thinly veiled metaphor for immigrants...but the issue is...

The fire people ARE a legitimate threat to the earthy, leafy people. They can literally kill them. They literally burn off pieces of their bodies in the damn film.

Now technically the wind and water people are less in danger, but we literally see in the movie that the fire people are WAY more of a threat than any other people. The main character literally blows the fuck up.

She destroys several plot important things when she can't control her temper!!! She destroys her own father's shop. Several times.

It's implied that fire people can also EVAPORATE the water people too.

So therein lies the issue.

If we saw the water people being more destructive, I could forgive it! If we saw more equal distrust between all the people, then maybe I could buy it. There ARE hints that the wind people have an affinity for lightning, which you would think could be a destructive force too, just as much a threat to water! And water can douse fire, right? So that's also bad, and that at least has some basis in the film?

But the problem is that the larger society only sees fire as bad...and the metaphor doesn't come across, when you focus on just fire and show us the many, many bad things fire can and does do to the other elements.

Now here's the thing that really annoys me.

The racism/discrimination against immigrants metaphor was okay. It had some nuance, at least. I enjoyed some of the very thoughtful discussions of what it means to be a second generation immigrant and the stresses of trying to live up to your parents' expectations of you.

I actually enjoyed the romance too. They were oddly sweet, and the heroic sacrifice in the end was genuinely touching.

But the movie's racism metaphor was too strong, and it has bad implications, given how much of a threat all of the races are to each other, whether it's equally divided between them or not.

This is not at all applicable to real life. Our differences are not so fucking fundamental. They are cultural and only very, very slightly biological. Our DNA is not so fucking different that this metaphor works, at all.

These kind of movies make the unintentional point that races are cut and dry categories, and all we need to do is accept these alien creatures so different from us into our society.

This is not true.

Like what the fuck. This is so not true. Every single race on earth can and does reproduce with one another, plus we've all been intermixed since the beginning of fucking time.

So that metaphor just breaks itself, in my opinion.

Now here's my suggestion.

This movie should've been a metaphor for disability accomodations.

And hear me out, right?

The fire people CANNOT go to several places. Places entirely underwater, or partially submerged, places covered in foliage, where they might burn things. It is a central theme, that fire people are barred from certain places because they simply haven't bothered to make those places accessible to them.

See, that's a much more palatable and less problematic theme/metaphor to draw from!

The main character wants to see this plant that only grows underwater, but she's never gotten to see it because it's in this weird stadium that's underwater, and they simply haven't tried to make it accessible to fire people.

Plus, water people trains are constantly throwing water down on fire town, and water is a huge threat to fire people, and the whole city seems to run on water transport, and i think, but im not sure, it's stated that water people came first, and that's why elemental city is mostly catered to them?

But there's a great moral there!

There's no reason fire people can't be in certain public spaces! There should be laws forcing all earth spaces to have fire safe accommodations, like metal or clay flooring in all necessary areas!

That museum should've had some kind of tunnel for fire people to walk through!

It should be required for all public areas that there be metal or clay or glass crossing certain areas, so that fire people can still reasonably access everything that the other people can access!

Like ramps and elevator and railings, in real life!

And it's such a shame, because the protagonist has a talent for shaping glass. For making art.

It's implied she might end up working for her boyfriend's mom, who's an architect!!!

The protagonist should've been a fucking architect, who EXPLICITLY dedicates herself to making the rest of the city accessible to her own people!!! So they can get out of fire town and live amongst the rest of them!

At the end, it's implied more people are coming to fire town...but for no fucking reason. They just go there now.

But the protagonist, Ember, really needed to be a driving force.

She needed to be a metaphor for accessibility in public spaces, because that's a much better parallel than just racism itself.

If you toned down the "destructiveness" of fire and explained that fire people are unfairly excluded from public life simply because it's easier for the other people to ignore them and not care about their needs...then you have a far less problematic story, with a much more sensitive and interesting take on disability discrimination.

Ember needed to be an advocate, someone who tries to bring her people into the wider world, and not the wider people into her world.

There is NO reason fire people could not be allowed to participate in public life.

And there was no reason fire people had to be pitted so hard against every other race.

Elemental was a really fun movie, with beautiful animation and some very well thought out ideas for how the city worked.

But it failed as a racism/immigration allegory.

It could've been far more nuanced and complex, if it had bothered to talk more about how fire people need accomodations, rather than just, fire people hate everyone else, and everyone else hates fire people.

[cinnamonsikwate]

i still hate how the onus was on zon and his people to "prove" that orcs were capable of more than violence meanwhile marcille didn't do a goddamn thing to change their minds about elves being raging bigots. funny how she thinks elves (a long-lived race with powerful magic) and orcs (a short-lived race with no magic as far as we can see) are on a level playing field when it comes to securing land and resources!

and having bahai, zon's child, be the one to go "why can't we all just get along" like ooh ryoko kui some crimes cannot be forgiven

[ozthedm]

I love Astarion to death, I really do. He has some of the best moments in the game, and is probably my favorite of the origin companions...

Which is why I have to say as an Astarion-enjoyer that it is deeply concerning to me how his racism is brushed to the side so easily both in-game and in fandom.

And yes, he is canonically racist. I'm not going to go into his gnome comments or what early drafts of the character indicated about his past, since those are slippery slopes. But trust me, his in-game attitude towards the Gur (who are stand-ins for Roma, a real-life minority ethnic group) is enough.

"But it makes sense that he would be prejudiced against the Gur because of his backstory." Yes, it does. It's understandable, even. But that does not mean it shouldn't be called out and condemned beyond one optional line about not holding a grudge against an entire ethnic group because of his tragic backstory.

Also, it's possible he may have had this mindset even before his death. Astarion has a line indicating that, when he was a magistrate he'd made some sort of ruling against the Gur that angered some of them enough to attack him in the street.

Now to be fair, Astarion's history before Cazador is deliberately kept vague, so at a certain point this becomes conjecture. I still think this is worth mentioning because if we take his words at face value, then that goes beyond benign ignorance into the active participation of subjugating a minority group.

I want to be clear that I'm not saying Larian and Astarion fans are condoning racism. Again, I am an Astarion fan. I totally understand that saying "my blorbo is a racist" is deeply uncomfortable. I know that the idea of an amoral character is more fun than actually addressing that amorality is, in fact, bad.

But maybe that's the point of Astarion. In a choose-your-adventure game, he illustrates how easy it is to do and excuse terrible things while brushing them off as not a big deal.

It's just very weird to me that the narrative goes all in on addressing actions which Astarion had little to no control over, but hardly even acknowledges the harm he's done of his own free will. Especially when a major part of his arc is about how to move forward when you are responsible for others' suffering.

TLDR;

If a character (who isn't an antagonist) is intentionally written to be bigoted, that isn't something that should be easily glossed over by the writer or reader/viewer/player/etc.

[clickerflight]

The Price of War - Part 1: Field Medicine

Author's note: New storyyyyyyy! Below I have tagged all of my active whump story taglists including the story I just finished so people can see if they're interested in reading this story. If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments or sending in an ask. You will not be tagged in future parts unless you tell me you want to be.

Masterlist

Content: Elf whumpee, minotaur carewhumper, manhandling, abdomen injury, fantasy racism, passing out

.......................................

Alo’ad huffed, falling back behind the other members of his war party. He wasn’t as big as them, so keeping up with them was harder after hours of trekking through the thick woods while the elves attacked them over and over again, trying to get them surrounded. 

Due to the leader of the party, Underar, having superior wood lore under his belt, they had made it this far relatively unscathed. In fact, they had the elves on the run now which was the only reason Alo’ad allowed himself to slow down. That and any other minotaur that was hurt could slow down and get some healing from the half-taur now that it was safer to do so. 

Alo’ad stretched his arms, looking for Taurs that had fallen behind or collapsed because of an unnoticed injury. 

He smelled blood in the air and snuffled, trying to find it quickly. It smelled dangerous, whatever wound it came from. 

He ducked his head a little, his short horns brushing under a branch as he stepped through the last of the tall grass in the clearing. 

The tree the branch belonged to loomed overhead, and at the roots sat a man. A small elf, thin and willowy though as short as any of his kind, clutching at a deep wound in his abdomen. 

The elf’s eyes went wide, long ears tipping down and pinning in his long pale hair as he drew in a short breath. 

Alo’ad moved quickly, grabbing the elf by the face and gently pinned his head to the tree. The elf whimpered, Alo’ad’s hand, while smaller than a full Taur’s hand, was still big enough to almost entirely cover the elf’s face. 

Alo’ad looked over his shoulder, making sure he was crouched far enough that no one in the war party would be able to see him. If the elf was heard or spotted they would take him back to camp to interrogate him. They wouldn’t torture him, but it would be torture as his wounds  would be left unattended. And he would die before he could tell them anything interesting. 

No, that would be a waste of life, and Alo’ad had been taught by his human father, against Taur culture, that life was endlessly valuable. Even that of the enemy. His mother had rolled her eyes at such claims, but she never stopped old Hesikaia from teaching their son such things, a soft look in her eyes as she watched her husband do so. 

Alo’ad reached into his pack, ignoring the elf’s scrambling fingers, slick with blood, on his wrist. 

He pulled out a small satchel full of poultice soaked pads and pulled one out, gently tugging the elf’s war tunic up out of his belt before applying the pad to the wound. 

The elf tensed under his fingers, small hands grabbing at his wrist, though he was no longer fighting back. 

Alo’ad didn’t dare make much noise, so he leaned in and whispered, “Please be quiet. If they hear you, you will be taken prisoner. Understand?”

The elf sat there frozen before tapping twice, the common sign for yes. 

Alo’ad released the elf’s face, who took a deep breath, eyes wide, but he did not scream. 

Alo’ad nodded and turned his attention to the wound, lifting the pad to check the damage. It was deep, but it did not smell of bile like it would if any organs had been ruptured. 

The half-taur grunted, happy enough as he replaced the pad, grabbing the elf by the upper arm to lift him away from the tree, reaching into his pack for bandages to wrap around the elf’s stomach. 

The elf squirmed a little, opening his mouth, but one stern look from Alo’ad quieted him. 

The elf stilled as Alo’ad finished wrapping the bandages, pinning it with a long thorn from a plant in the underbrush near the tree. 

The elf looked very strange indeed, sitting there with the bulky bandages meant for a minotaur wrapped around his middle. 

“Why?” the elf whispered in accented common. 

Alo’ad tilted his head a little. He just gave a little shrug. “Stay here,” he whispered. “I will find you a staff.”

He got up to hunt quickly through the forest for a stick for the small elf, looking up at branches with his knife in hand to cut one if he found a sturdy enough branch within his reach. 

………………………….

Bettelenian watched in amazement as the half-taur left to look for a staff. He rested a hand on his bandaged stomach, still trembling in the aftershocks of fear. He had been certain he was going to die when he looked up from his wound to see the enemy standing in front of him. Laying wounded, out of energy entirely to cast any spells, far away from the horses he trained and cursing the reckless decisions of his peers that brought him here, he thought he was going to die. 

When the half-taur had moved, quicker than a horse striking out with its back hooves, Bettelenian was sure he would wake up on the other side, wrapped in the robes of the dead, but instead he had only been slightly smothered as the half-taur messed with his wound. 

Bettelenian had been stupidly lucky. So very very lucky. He should have died, really. He had been thrown from his horse, upset by the attacking Taurs and difficult terrain and some Taur had managed to stick him, leaving for dead in the grass, a sneering face imprinted in Bettelenian’s head. He’d crawled to the tree before he’d run out of energy entirely. 

And here he was, patched up by a half-taur. It looked as though it were true that the human blood in any species made them softer. Maybe even foolish. 

Bettlenian shuddered at that thought. Now was not the time for blood snobbery. Really, he should be on his hands and knees thanking whatever human helped create this man who had come to save him. 

He heard a cracking of branches behind him and he turned his head to see the half-taur coming back, a sturdy branch in hand, tucking a huge knife away. 

His huge hand encompassed Bettelenian’s whole shoulder, hauling him up more than helping, giving him the staff and holding him until the dizziness had passed from him. 

“That way should be safe,” the half-taur said, pointing into the woods. “I will make sure they do not search this way for a while. Here.”

He pulled out a small bottle with something white and pearly inside. “Take a sip of this.”

“What is it?” Bettelenian asked, trying to hide his disgust. 

“It will give you energy to get back to an elven camp,” the half-taur said. “Take only a sip. It’ll feel like a kick to the chest.”

“I’ll do without,” Bettelenian said, trying to take a step away, but he was so tired his hands slipped on the staff, sending him to his knees. 

The huge enemy crouched by him, a huge hand on Bettelenian’s lower back, clearly able to grab him all the way around if he wanted to. The bottle was shoved under Bettelenian’s nose. “Take it.”

“No! I won’t have a barbarian’s brew! I-”

Something angry flashed through the half-taur’s eyes and he grabbed Bettelenian by his long hair, pulling him back and putting the bottle to his lips. 

The potion dribbled like honey into Bettelenian’s mouth - a bitter, numbing honey - sticking to his molars as he haltingly swallowed, and then the bottle was ripped away again. 

“Go,” the half-taur said darkly, pushing Bettelenian back up and shoving the staff into his hands. 

Bettelenian gasped as energy slammed into his body, indeed feeling like a kick to the chest as his heart pumped quicker and his urge to run kicked in as powerfully as it did when he found himself at the end of a spear. 

“Go,” the half-taur growled again. “May my father’s brewing knowledge carry you from here after the insult you gave to it. You are lucky I chose to let you go to live with your people instead of dying among mine.”

Bettelenian stumbled away before turning and fleeing as fast as he could, heavily using the staff as he did so. 

…………………………………………

“Alo’ad!” Underar called as the healer came back to meet with the other Taurs. They were setting up camp, laughing and singing together as they celebrated their victory and even Underar’s blood swam with the alcohol he had allowed himself to share in. “There you are! Where were you?”

“Likely finding a river to clean off in!” another Taur called. Kiadhi grinned at Alo’ad in a friendly, teasing way. “Just like your father, hey?”

Alo’ad rolled his eyes, though it was clear he had found a water source of some sort to clean off as he was somewhat damp and no longer smelled of the chase or war. “Perhaps, but you want your healer’s hands clean if he’s going to be digging around in your organs.”

“Only if the healer is in camp in the first place,” Underar said, a little bite in his tone now. “You were gone for a long time.”

Alo’ad shrugged, muscled shoulders rolling in a sleeveless tunic. “I was tired,” he admitted.

Underar scowled, stepping forward and putting a large hand on Alo’ad’s small shoulder, leading him away from camp as the Taurs who had been paying attention went back to their celebration. 

“Alo’ad,” the leader said softly. “You told me that you could keep up with us. If you have lied for the glory of running with the herd, I can understand that, but-”

“No, it’s fine. I can keep up. I just need longer breaks,” Alo’ad said firmly. “I have not slowed you down yet, and I do not intend on slowing you down in the future.”

Underar looked Alo’ad up and down, judging the small half-taur’s words before nodding. “I believe you, Alo’ad. Try to rest closer to the camp, understand?”

“I understand,” Alo’ad replied, nostrils flaring with some relief. 

“Good. Come join the celebration. We will need your voice to sing the victory chorus.”

……………………………………….

Bettelenian stumbled into an elven camp as the moon began to rise, the potion worn off now. He had no idea who’s camp he was in, but he wanted to cry in relief. 

He called out in pain, falling to his knees, his staff clattering to the ground. 

A tent near him lit up with mage light and soon elves were running to him, helping him up and calling for a healer. 

Bettelenian forced himself to stay conscious through pride alone as he was taken into a tent, a healer, wearing the symbols of the second highest order, pulled back his tunic only as far as necessary to deal with the injury. 

“These aren’t elven,” he said, confused. “What happened out there?”

Bettelenian opened his mouth to answer, but the Lord of sleep was already coming for him, taking his vision before carrying him to rest. 

Part 2

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[rjalker]

fantasy oppression written by white people in a nutshell:

[ID: An MS Paint comic of two stick figures talking, saying:

Figure one: "I can kill you any time I want. I am stronger and faster than you and smarter and I can overpower you before you even realize you're under attack. If I decide to kill you there's absolutely nothing you can do to defend yourself." Figure two: "Um. Okay. I'm kind of scared of you now." Figure one: "You're oppressing me." End ID.]