#fantasy racism
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"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.
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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!
#homestuck#homestuck meta#homestuck analysis#hemospectrum#hemoloyalty#fantasy racism#fantasy bigotry#cw racism#nekro.txt#nekro.pdf
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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
#dungeon meshi#fantasy racism#she captured white ppl microaggressions against poc perfectly but cannot commit to portraying actual oppression#and with current events marcille's demonization of the orcs who are obviously fighting to keep their autonomy reads so so awfully#tfw you struggle w depicting oppression bc then you'd have to come to terms w the horrors your country wrought in east & southeast asia#ryoko kui 🤝 hiromu arakawa#interesting how the 'how laios & shuro met' comic generated more racism discourse than ep 4 of the anime#calemonsito notes#edited to include zon's name#i thought his son had an official name too but i can't confirm it in the world guide#edit 2: found his name!#just a lil tidbit: bahay means house in tagalog
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I got commissioned by @insomniac-dormouse to make a 2 page comic about my OC, Misha Mistaka, I haven't drawn him this much since high school so this was a blast! the thing with Misha is that I'm only allowed to draw him with my non dominant hand, so you can see he's a bit more wobbly than other stuff here haha. I think I was, like, 15 when I made him and it was mostly a way to cope with a lot of intrusive thoughts and trauma about abuse, particularly sexual and racial abuse. So his story is pretty rough, at least at first.
#nnstuff#nnart#original art#nnoc#misha mistaka#sa tw#rape tw#csa tw#genocide tw#fantasy racism#racism tw#comic#original comic
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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.
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on my extrapolating about characters arc so im thinking about. gorgug and riz. do u ever think of them
gorgug who grew up knowing intimately how much he stuck out like a sore thumb. riz who can count all the goblins in elmville on one clawed hand.
riz who hides behind walls and in dark corners because he cannot stand in a crowd and simply blend in; gorgug who wakes up his whole childhood in a room too small. two people who garner attention that they aren't seeking. riz the rogue whose keen eye notices, knows how people will stare if given the opportunity. gorgug who more often than not sits timidly with his headphones on and hands in his hoodie pocket, who hates the stomach flip when someone assumes he must be a barbarian, and hates the fact that he proves them right.
riz and gorgug who are different in their upbringings, but share the same quiet sense of unbelonging, in green skin and craned necks and cruel cruel assumptions
#riz gukgak#gorgug thistlespring#(i didnt finish this post lol but im clearing my drafts. this is from MAY)#anyways it's about the solidarity. it's about different experiences but shared looks#it's about riz being raised second gen and gorgug's transracial struggles#(**third gen? sorry idr exactly ^^')#and they are different they are not the same but together they are less alone.#anyways i remember having more thoughts and headcanons on this but i just would like to post it lol#it's riz growing up knowing he he doesnt fit in with his peers#and gorgug growing up knowing he doesnt fit in at home#riz trying to connect with his heritage in ways that get him looks from strangers who don't understand#and gorgug trying to connect and getting looks from gnomes who don't understand him#do u get what i mean#fantasy racism#<- idk what im supposed 2 tag this so hopefully thats right#fantasy high
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[ID: A page from the Dungeon Meshi World Guide showing a comic in which Kabru (brown-skinned humanoid with dark hair), Falin (pale-skinned humanoid with pale neck length hair), and Laios (pale-skinned humanoid with short pale hair) talk about Kobolds (anthropomorphic dog people).
Text in the comic:
Panel 1:
Laios: So there's a country of kobolds in the desert?
Falin: I want to go!
Kabru: There is, but you really can't expect to interact with them.
Panel 2:
Kabru (narrating off-panel): The long-lived races took all the world's most fertile regions. All that's left is poor land.
Panel 3:
Kabru continues: Short-lived races and demihumans fight over limited resources.
Panel 4:
Kabru continues: The kobold here seems gentle... ...but as a rule, they're a cruel and aggressive race.
Panel 5:
Kabru (now on panel): It's best to assume that communication is impossible. (Haah...)They are only demihumans.
Panel 6:
Laios: (Maaan...) I guess they're like our mountain people, then.
Falin: Mmhmm. It's just no use.
Kabru: !?
Panel 7:
Kabru: Mountain people? Are they a type of demihuman?
Laios & Falin: Nope
Laios: They're nomads who settled in the mountains nearby.
Panel 8:
Laios: They're savage and you can't talk to them, so if they show up near the village, we have to kill them.
Falin: If we let them go, they just cause trouble.
Laios: Exactly
Falin: Animals would be better. At least you can eat them.
Kabru: Wha...?
Panel 9:
Kabru: Enough! Don't talk about humans that way! I should have never started it!! /End ID]
Me when creators canonically make the protags racist:
[GD: A Black person looks disappointed at someone, blinks, and grabs their bag to leave. /End GD]
#nix meows#dungeon meshi#described#dunmeshi criticism#fantasy racism#and i say racist instead of a more general xenophobic/bigoted b/c the only groups of nomads we've seen in this peice#are ambigiously brown folks and the orcs#long post
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Making the Future
AO3
Masterpost
Consider supporting me on kofi!
Please reblog my writing!
Reminder that all Content Warnings for this story will be found in the Content warnings portion, linked in the Masterpost! I will be updating it frequently! I will try to, at least on tumblr, put the CWs with each chapter. If you find a Content Warning missing, please tell me!
CWs for this chapter: Death, Implied Child Death, Fantasy Racism, War
Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @duck-in-a-spaceship @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat
Prologue
He was thrust into the war. Chaos surrounding him and his companions, the barbarians advancing -yet they stood no chance. Taking his bow, he aimed for the one who seemed to be the leader, memories swarming him before he could shoot. Memories of his little brother, the one who was all excited when he learned something new. The one who was shot, blood spurting on his favorite outfit. The brother who died in his arms. And it was all their fault, the barbarians. Steadying his breathing, he fired, and he watched the arrow fly into the heart of his enemy. However, he was too busy paying attention to what his arrow was doing to realize the danger he was in. Until it pierced through his skull. In his moment of greatest victory laid his greatest defeat, as he was shot down by the same weapon he had used. His dying memory of his best friend, Aleanderathol, shouting his name.
#Death#Implied Child Death#Fantasy Racism#War#glacier's writing#glacier's original stories#making the future#oc#writeblr#writer#writers of tumblr#writers on tumblr#original story#original work
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here's my very all over the place feelings on certain aspects of baldur's gate 3 as a romani immigrant. warnings for spoilers of course. mind you i have not finished the game yet!
1. i really can't believe there aren't more people talking about the very blatant racism in astarion's questline. im quite sure it's because the game already touches on it, even giving you the choice to call astarion a racist, and also because everytime we roma talk about anything that makes us uncomfortable we're immediately shunned and "well actually!"'d.
the problem is that it feels Extra icky because the man who was the inspiration for the original dracula, Vlad the Impaler, kept romani slaves. this is the ONLY part of vampire history that, no matter how different the media, will always stay relevant for some reason.
castlevania has the seekers, a nomadic group of magic users who pass their history down orally. while they are *mostly* treated well, the first arc of the show literally shows them being hunted out of town for the simple act of existing.
vampire the masquerade... well.. that's an entire other can of racism worms.
curse of strahd has the "vistani", a nomadic group of people who are treated like third class citizens everywhere they go, and are of course, most known for being tarot readers and drunkards.
the vampire diaries have the "travellers", who get called "gypsies" explicitly as a derogatory word by other vampires.
i want you to take any vampire media you enjoy and ask yourself, "is there anti-roma racism in this?". i guarantee you, if you look for it, you're going to find it. for SOME reason, the only thing that stays consistent with all these different vampire IPs, is that romani people are hated and scrutinized at every moment of their lives.
i MORE than understand that astarion's racial insensitivity is part of him. it's part of what makes him malleable by the player. you can help him understand why he's wrong, or you can lead him down a worse path.
i still reserve the right to feel some sort of way about astarion sacrificing fantasy-romani children for power, willingly. don't get me wrong, he's my favourite character, right up there with halsin. which is why i obviously have so many feelings about this.
(yes, the Gur were written inspired by romani people, if you were not aware)
2. the anti-immigrant sentiment is such an inherent part of the story that i did not think was going to stick around for SO long. i dont really have much to say about this, i think i should've expected it. as a fan of dragon age (i know, tragic) i'm quite used to unnecessary fantasy racism everywhere i go, i just hoped it wouldn't be part of the main crucial story.
3. larian studios i am so so so thankful for the halsin romance. eternally. forever and ever. he's my pookie bear and i'm so grateful some extra time was made to create a romance for him.
can i ask you why the hell does halsin want to LEAVE. At The End. i've noticed how much he contradicts himself throughout his questline and i just... I don't know. i've seen some other people complaining about how non-chalantly he talks about being a sex slave and i understand too, but i think it's part of his character to not take the horrible things that happened to him seriously like he does with others. that, or someone at larian took an unknown substance that led them to make halsin Very inconsistent.
with the poly situation, some people are strictly polyamorous! some people are strictly non-monogamous and do not feel comfortable being in a monogamous relationship. i understand the frustration everyone, but that's how halsin is. i dont know if that was the writers' intention, but that's certainly what he comes across as to me; strictly non-monogamous.
what i DONT understand is why he says he only wants you, calls you "my heart", is so fondly and lovingly attached to you, and then he just.... Dips? Whatever. I'm ignoring that part forever. it's not canon to ME!
anyways. yeah. feel free to Engage in some Friendly conversation. emphasis on friendly, for the love of g-d
#ezio.txt#the bear speaketh#bg3 halsin#halsin the druid#halsin#astarion#astarion bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3#baldur's gate iii#antiziganism#sorry for rambling but also i have a mouth. i must scream#if you try to well actually me about this i'm eldritch blasting you#fantasy racism#dragon age
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I want to give my two cents on the whole ‘werewolf racism’ and ‘werewolf slurs’ thing as someone who is indeed affected by real world racism and discrimination.
First of all, i think fantasy racism is so weird in general. The use of it is only appealing to white people who have never gone through it thus see it as a good plotline, plus since white people have never gone through it they can always just turn it off or stop reading it the moment they get bored of it, something minorities can’t do. Secondly, fantasy racism is more often than not, rooted in real world racism. An example i can use is actually Aphmaus Minecraft Diaries. The werewolfs in MCD are viewed by the general populas as dangerous savages who attack the villages, speak in broken in english and live in tribes…see the issue with that?
Secondly, seeing people discuss fantasy slurs is again, so weird to me. It feels odd to me to fantasize and imagine how a group of people are opressed and attacked on a day to day basis for the same reasons as to why i think fantasy racism is weird.
Anyways idk, these are just my thoughts. I don’t mean this ask in a hostile manner or as an attack against you as a person, i just wanted to share my thoughts on the matter.
^^^
Thank you for your thoughts. I always value the views and insights of others in discussions like these, especially about these topics. I’m not really in a position to act like I’m the authority on this kind of thing so I do really appreciate when people who actually know what they’re talking about get involved.
A small reminder to everyone to listen to the voices that matter in discussions like these. My voice may sometimes be the loudest, but it isn’t always the best one to listen to, clearly.
#I apologise for the posts I make. I’m not going to try and defend myself because my intent doesn’t have to match the impact for my actions#to suck.#made*#so I’ll take accountability all the same and only explain myself if it’s wanted#aphmau#aphverse#aphblr#fantasy racism
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In Confidence
( Arianwen Tabris/Zevran Arainai | 2,392 Words | AO3 Link | CW: Fantasy racism, past parent death, emotional hurt/comfort)
“Where are you taking me?” Zevran asked, keeping pace with his Warden as they scaled the side of a building in the alienage. It was not a difficult task, though the state of the scaffolding they were climbing did give him pause.
“You’ll see,” she told him, grunting slightly when she caught the board over her head and pulled herself up.
Only fifteen feet separated them from the top—or so he hoped. Meeting her family had been trial enough on its own. He had not anticipated this sort of exertion afterward or he would have eaten far less at her father’s table.
“Almost there,” she added, and there was the faintest note of an apology tucked beneath her usual impassive tone. If he had not known her so well, Zevran might not have heard it at all.
“I am in no particular hurry,” he told her, and she stopped climbing to cast him a skeptical look.
“Well,” Zevran amended, glancing below. “I must admit this is not how I thought we would be spending our evening.”
Below, the vhenadahl swayed in the evening air off the Drakon River. People stood in clusters, their voices ringing off the stone, and food peddlers had staked out rival ends of the courtyard. It surprised him even now to see the condition of the alienage; he supposed that it explained something of his Arianwen that she had grown up in such a place. And yet—these people had built something here, among the ruins. He could see the bright hair of Tabris’s cousin bob through the crowd, pausing near one cluster of people and speaking for a time. They opened to her reluctantly, but even from this distance Zevran could see some of them begin to nod. Perhaps they would yet rebuild their community, even after what the slavers had done to them.
“Are you coming?” Arianwen called down, and he realized that she’d made her way to the top while he’d looked below. Zevran climbed instead of answering, and reached for her hand at the top when she offered it.
“We used to play here,” she told him, bracing to pull him over the edge and onto a wooden platform. “Shianni and I. Before and after it burned. It was our secret place, just the two of us. Poor Soris was never one for heights. He’d wait until he heard us climb down and then we’d all wander together. When his parents still lived, he’d grown up in the building next door. I used to hear his mother singing while she made dinner, back when I used to wander the streets looking for strays.”
“Ah—I see,” Zevran said, glancing around.
The two of them stood in the burned shell of a house three stories from the ground. He had thought that they’d reached a platform at the top of the scaffolding, but he saw now that he’d been wrong. They stood on all that was left of a wooden floor, the edges blackened and crumbled away. Arianwen stood to the empty doorway, patting the wall beside it fondly. There was little else to see here—only the remnants of a bed, piles of fabric in the corners of the room that might once have been blankets or clothing, holes in the floor where the structure below had given way. He did not struggle to imagine two young girls finding this place out of curiosity, for he had done much the same when he’d been a boy.
“Ready?” she asked while he was still considering this. She vanished through the darkness of the doorway before he could answer, so Zevran had little choice but to follow her into the hallway beyond.
“How did this place burn?” Zevran asked, ducking a fallen beam and testing the floor before he went on down the hall.
“Humans,” Wen said, and her face was shadowed when she glanced back at him. “It burned the night Soris’s parents died.”
There was a heavy silence then. She stopped long enough for him to catch up and caught his hand in hers. This was still new—Arianwen reaching for him, for comfort. Zevran did not know quite what to make of it yet.
“She tried to escape the building after they set it aflame. One of them kicked her back inside. The man who—oh, nevermind. You don’t need the details,” she took a sharp breath, her hand squeezing Zevran’s, and went on down the dark hall. “A few days later, my ma was gone all night long. They found his body washed up on the river, cut to ribbons and bloodless. I didn’t realize until far later what that meant.”
“She was a fighter, your mother?” Zevran asked, for it seemed the safer topic of conversation. Tabris dropped his hand to climb under more debris.
“She taught me everything I know,” she sighed, “I tried to forget it after she died. My body remembered for me. I’m grateful to it. But—here. Look.”
They’d found the end of the hallway at last. Arianwen pushed the door open and revealed—
A closet.
Zevran looked at her, brows arched high in question. To his surprise, she laughed. That was new, too—hearing her laugh when they weren’t in the heat of battle. It was a tired laugh, but that mattered very little in the run of things.
“Watch,” she said, and turned the coat hook on the back wall. The wall fell away at the pressure of her hand, swinging open into the room beyond.
“However did you find this?” Zevran asked, stepping into the room behind her. This room was lit by the lone window on the far wall, through which moonlight poured. In the cool light, he could see her clearly enough to read her face. Wistful—yes. She seemed wistful.
“You know—I don’t remember,” she said after a moment. “I don’t know which one of us opened the door, or even when it happened. I only remember it being our place, Shianni’s and mine. Here.”
She lit a candle and held it up to the wall. Messy colors snaked up the crumbling plaster, handprints followed by rough drawings and holes in a familiar shape.
“Throwing knives?” he asked, making his way to her side. Arianwen nodded silently, her lips parting and pressing tightly together again.
Zevran knew that look. She was fighting some battle with herself, weighing what she ought to say to him. They would both be better served if he gave her space.
“May I…?” he asked, gesturing to the room at large. Tabris nodded again, stepping closer to the marks on the wall, and Zevran slipped away.
The corners held stacks of books here and there, all adventures set in distant lands or histories of Ferelden. He found only two that he supposed must have belonged to his Warden: a book about animal physiology and one about the care and keeping of various household pets. Zevran smiled at the sight of them, leaving a streak in the dust covering each volume, and moved on.
Most of the wooden walls bore the marks of her blades. Many of the marks had been thrown wide from their fingerpainted targets. He could follow the progress of her skill by those holes, could trace the time spent in this room by the neatness of the circles they fell within.
When he had met the Wardens on the road all those months ago, he had met a blade of a woman. She was hard and quick and sharp, flashing through the crowd of Crows like light through a fast-running river. There had been nothing of fear or weakness in her. She had seemed—impervious, somehow. As if nothing in the world could touch her, as if she had sprung into existence precisely as he saw her in that moment.
Zevran knew better now, of course. He had seen her at her most vulnerable in the mornings when she slept, had watched her uncertainty upon seeing her father again. Two days ago, she had wept over Zevran’s body when she’d thought him dead by Taliesen’s hand. Today, standing in the dusty remnants of her childhood, he knew her better than he might have thought possible even a month ago.
Even so—it was surprising and endearing, somehow, to know that she had not leapt from her mother with blades in hand. Once, many years ago, she had learned her craft just as he had. Maker’s teeth, but sometimes Zevran wished they had known each other then, before the softness had been carved from them both. Who had she been? Who might he have been, in that other life that neither of them would ever live?
“Here—this is what I actually meant to show you,” Arianwen said.
Zevran blinked and found her beside him, though he had not heard her approach. She slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together, and pulled him with her to another door. When she opened it to the night beyond, cool air brushed over his cheeks. They had only been in the room for ten or fifteen minutes, hardly long enough to notice how still the air was. Even so, it was a relief to step into a fresher breeze.
“You can sit,” she told him, but leaned forward against a flimsy railing.
They’d stepped out onto a narrow balcony of sorts. A broken pulley hung from the wall to their left and an alleyway stretched into the darkness of the alienage beneath them. It was wide enough for two chairs and little else, though the gleam of glass bottles beneath them suggested what this space had been used for most recently.
“This was—” she sighed, and one fist thudded lightly against the wood of the railing. “I was last here on the night before my…before the wedding.”
Arianwen leaned forward until her shoulders hunched. Her hands were joined into one fist, knuckles pale against the brown of her skin. Zevran breathed sweet night air and watched her. It was still difficult—to wait, to allow her to unspool whatever she’d been fighting. It would be easier to make some joke. Already, one stood waiting on his tongue. But—no.
No, he found he rather wanted to know what she’d brought him here to say.
“Shianni was too drunk to climb down. I was too scared to try on my own. We dozed off here and dragged ourselves back home at dawn. I remember thinking that it would be the last time I ever came up here. I knew…I knew I would never want to share this place with a stranger. How could I?”
Zevran nudged one of the chairs aside, wincing when he heard the bottles beneath tipping against each other. He found a spot beside her at the rail and rested his arms against it. Arianwen did not look at him.
“The night my mother died, I was here. I came home late because I’d argued with my father and I knew he would worry if I was out for too long. I was…punishing him. By the time I came back, she was already gone.”
A breeze brushed small, loose hairs over her forehead. Tabris reached up and pushed them back, frowning slightly. Zevran edged closer and leaned his shoulder against hers. After a moment, she bent to lean her head against his shoulder.
“I don’t blame myself. It wasn’t my fault. This isn’t about that. This is—ugh.”
Zevran wrapped an arm around her waist, thinking hard, but there was little he could say. He had come to trust her slowly, had given himself over one careful piece at a time before he’d realized that he was doing so. It did not often pain him to tell her the hard things now. For her part, Arianwen had opened her arms to him readily enough once she’d begun to care, but it had taken longer to offer pieces of her heart to him in turn. Even now, he could feel her cutting them free for his perusal.
“There is nothing that you must tell me. Yes?” he said, resting his shoulder against hers. “It can wait. A different night, some other place.”
“No,” she said sharply. “I want to say—I’m glad you’re here. You should be here. I love this place and I hate this place and I miss it all the time. It was my secret, but now it’s yours, too. And that’s all.”
Her eyes flicked up and away again, focusing on the dark alley below.
“I’m glad you’re here, Zev,” she repeated quietly. “That’s all.”
What could he say to this? Wen could be harsh and difficult and wore the intensity of her feelings like armor. Even so—she had brought him to this, the most vulnerable of places, the tenderest of wounds. She had brought him here and no other.
Zevran swallowed around the thickness in his throat and nudged her hip with his. She looked up at him, the moonlight snared in her eyes, and what could he say?
“Do you suppose any of these bottles still have wine in them? Some wine, a fine whiskey, perhaps?”
Arianwen snorted, shoulders loosening slightly.
“None that I’d chance drinking,” she said, but tugged a slim, dented flask from her pocket. “Here—I’ll share. But only because you asked.”
“You have my most sincere thanks, dearest Warden,” Zevran told her, voice smooth and dripping with charm. She snorted again, tapping his chest with the flask, and he took it. It was warm, held tight against her side all this time. He treasured the feeling of it as he unscrewed the cap.
When they walked back to Eamon’s estate later, all but alone on the street, he sought better words. It was easier when she wasn’t watching him. It was easier when they were away from the place that had hurt and raised her.
“I am glad I am here, too, mi vida,” he told her, watching the ragged road ahead. “Thank you.”
Her hand slipped into his, palm warm and rough. Zevran wondered if she knew that the words were meant for more than just tonight. He wondered if she understood how far back the sentiment could stretch, that he was grateful for more than a secret shared and glad for his continued existence in a broader sense than glad could encompass.
“Thank you,” she echoed quietly, and held on tight.
(For Zevwarden Week Day 2: Secrets, Kept and Told. Thanks @zevraholics for organizing this!)
#zevwarden#zevran x tabris#arianwen tabris#fantasy racism#parent death#zevwarden week 2023#da fanfic#shivunin scrivening#zevran arainai
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Fantasy racism is one of my least favorite things in fiction writing, ever. Because why do 90% of people attempting to tackle it do it so wrong and honestly their depiction makes me wonder about their real life views.
Like the biggest reason why real life racism is so evil and nonsensical is because the only inherent different among races is the pigment of someone's skin.
So when you, as a writer, attempt a racism allegory like "Oh this race of people were once VIOLENT and DESTRUCTIVE SAVAGES, but are now docile and there's no reason to fear them anymore 🥺" it really gets on my last nerve cause that's not the take away!
Imma bash Zootopia for a bit, okay. The predator class (literally predators God help me) are being given this drug that reduces them to their base instincts which is kill and eat the prey class in the movie. The prey class has very real and very valid and historical reasons to fear their literal natural predators. And the lesson is "You shouldn't discriminate against people different from you just because of what they were born as" but that's horrifically awful for a racism allegory because oppressed races in real life did NOTHING to justify the fear and ire of their oppressors!
I saw someone else say this, but a better example of fantasy racism would be in a cat world. Where all cats live in harmony except for black cats because they're seen as a bad omen and a sign of bad luck because they are born with black fur. Nothing INHERENTLY wrong, but simply an aesthetic difference and baseless stereotypes that causes them to be discriminated against.
"But user cloudbells fiction is fiction and not everything is meant to reflect the real world-" don't care + authors literally cite their inspiration being real world bigotry + writing doesn't exist in a vacuum + it's just bad thematic plotting + ur wrong and probably annoying.
#me my mine#ramblings of the a.m.#racism#fantasy racism#im going to sleep now#no nonsense allowed in my notes
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Dungeon Meshi I am able to enjoy the prejudiced characters because the tone is not a full-on morality play. Its just a bunch of stuff happening in an uncaring universe and peoples choices have consequences.
(aside from maybe that one time Marcille said the criminals will one day be punished by the universe for shunning vegetables and then the criminals are attacked by orcs)
What is insufferable is works all about punishing people for flaws or tackling issues just...treat bigotry as a funny quirk
Instead of just being "realistic" its often showing where a writer's priorities lie.
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Nations Symbols Theft
For reasons too nerdy to contemplate or explain(the Leagues of Votann, super-heavy warmachines, and the Imperium of Man), I found myself thinking about narratives where non-human fantasy-persons create some wondrously enchanted artifact only for some human/god(and sometimes Wizard) to steal it, and of course that led me to the awful way Rowling resolved the Griphook & the Sword of Gryffindor situation, and THAT led me to realizing something about the "magical races" in the Harry Potter books which makes said series even worse(tho: I havent read the books in ages so maybe Im misremembering).
What are Griphook's three main complaints to Harry?
Goblins, and ALL ~magical races~ for that matter, don't get a vote in the Wizengamot even tho they're subject to wizard-law
Wizards have no respect for Goblin ownership claims, and as a result are constantly stealing their shit
Goblins, and ALL ~magical races~ for that matter, are LEGALLY BARRED from owning, operating, being taught HOW to operate, or KNOWING how to operate, Wands, which drastically improve one's access to and use of magic(and thus are also symbols of membership in ~The Wizarding World~ which Goblins etc etc MUST live in or be summarily executed or imprisoned by Wizards)
As always, from the moment I first read the Griphook storyline and how Rowling "resolved" it to every time I've ever thought of it since, I was struck by how much this all Sucked Horrendously, but then it ALSO struck me that this is a BRITISH Book. That Rowling was and is Proudly British.
And then I thought, well, the Wizards in Harry Potter aren't even analogies for Brits they're just literally(according to English/British-chauvinists: the Irish, obvsl, disagree Quite Strongly on this issue) British, so who, in the real world, might the ~magical races~ -- always "complaining" about how the Wizards(British) stole their land, and stole their cultural artifacts, and won't give either back; enslaved them, forced them into certain jobs and certain places and certain ways of life no matter what THEY Themselves wanted or are qualified to do; are always being grossly, insultingly, self-satisfiedly, ignorantly condescending to them; hold them subject to Wizard(British) law but give them no say in how those laws are made, force them INTO Wizard(British) society but never ACCEPT them as fellow Wizards(British) -- analogize?
The Goblins in Harry Potter, and ALL the ~magical races~ for that matter, are the Colonized. Rowling wrote them as the Colonized, and Rowling Wrote Them siding with the Fucking Nazis.
#JK Rowling#Potterverse#Potterverse Themes#Potterverse Symbolism#Analogy#Magical Peoples#Racism#Fantasy Racism#Politics#zA Analysis#zA Rants#Our Staff#zA Writes#I guess I should forgive myself for not realizing this when I was younger but I still feel like a fucking tool for not GETTING It#when Harry didn't do the OBVIOUS and TROPHICALLY HEROIC THING when confronted by Griphook#and give him the sword + a speech about how Wizards had Done Goblins Wrong in the Past but the Future doesn't Need to Be That Way#he wouldnt even really be GIVING him the sword since he knows it's enchanted to return to any Gryff member who asks for it#but of course Rowling writes him as forgetting this thing that's been repeatedly plot relevant AND repeatedly told to him by Everyone#minitagrants
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AITA for summoning an onslaught of cat demons at the school of my brother's killer?
Hi so for a bit of context, I 16(F) have a brother 14(Demiboy, calling him A), and they got to know this dalmatian 16(M, lets just call him P), and they started to get close, I thought P was pretty weird (i.e they like books about dissection of small animals) but i wasnt really one to judge to i kind of just ignored him.
Well one day A tells me that he cut off ties with P by sending him a letter to never speak with A ever again, and i thought that would be the end of it. Good riddance right? Well soon enough P sent A a letter saying that A should come find P and apologize by midnight or he'd find A himself. Again i didnt think much of it, so i just told A to ignore the letter.
Well one day I find A dead (and his eyeball dissected out) and i kind of got mad, so summoned his spirit so that i could try to find his killer and enact revenge, but it turns out dying messes alot with your memories, so he couldnt remember much other than that his killer said "Hello puppy" right before killing him (Which is weird because A is a Cat, not a dog).
After alot of searching i find out the A's killer attends this high school for dogs (ugh, dogs), and so i did what any good witch would do and i snuck in and went to the basement to draw a magic circle to summon cat demons to tear through the school to find A's killer, although the cat demons werent very smart so they just started killing everything they saw. (and it didnt even work, because A's killers was still SOMEHOW alive, even after almost the entire school was dead)
After a while of frustration, the basement we were in SOMEHOW got flooded, erasing the magic circle along with it. So i had to quickly move to a nearby classroom, and right after moving the magic circle to the classroom, A DOG 14(NB, calling them O) that was someone still alive came into the room along with their friends, at first i thought O was A's killers, but i realized O looked too awkward to do anything like that.
Apparently O wanted to help us find A's killer, so i trapped their friends as a bit of incentive. And lo and behold! They found them! And it was actually P (and i should of guessed that in hindsight), and after a bit of scuffle A managed to posses P and take over his body, so essentially, P is dead now and A is back, albeit in his own killers body.
After that, i wanted to do something nice for O, since they did help alot, and it was their birthday soon too, so i thought, good timing right? Well apparently all those dogs that died kind of wanted revenge, so now thousands of undead hordes of dogs wandered over and completely ruined O's surprise birthday party, but now O is telling me that i should help the horde? And bring them back somehow?
So tldr, AITA summoning an onslaught of cat demons at the school of my brother's killer? Causing thousands of unseeded causalities, and bringing forth hordes of undead dogs?
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A Wicked Work of Art - Chapter 14
Masterlist
I found it in me to write this. Going through a rough time and Akakios is my comfort character, so enjoy the penultimate chapter.
CW: medical whump, trans whumpee, test subject whumpee, experiment whumpee, fantasy racism, dehumanization, fantasy whump, institutionalized slavery, angels and demons, transformation whump, vague allusion to noncon, brief suicidal ideation
===
“You’re changing, my love.”
Asimi ran their hand over one of the nubs of horn protruding from Akakios’ head. Akakios, of course, was crying. There were few nights spent with Asimi that didn’t involve tears. It was a miracle, to Akakios, that Asimi wasn’t sick of him.
“There’s nothing that can be done?” Aka asked tearfully. The reality of it all was sinking in. He was becoming a dangerous creature. Before, he wasn’t human by virtue of being a mage of the dark arts. Now, he would be a monster. He’d be killed.
Not that it was such a bad fate, to be dead.
“No, Aka, my love. There’s nothing that can be done.” For once, the ever-steady Asimi seemed shaken. “I’ll be forced out of you, Aka. I fear for what that means for both of us.” Asimi took a breath. “Aka, we, as devils, are created by powerful emotions. The stronger the emotions throughout a lifetime, the stronger the devil. You will be powerful, my love. Able to defend yourself without me.”
“Asimi, you can’t leave me.” Akakios began to sob. “You’ve always been there. What am I going to do without you?”
Asimi looked away, casting Akakios into shame.
God, even Asimi would hate him now.
“Aka, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I hope we can escape. I hope we can overwhelm their forces and escape. But I don’t think that will happen. Young devils are out of control, Aka. They’re strong and unable to control themselves. With this happening now- look, I’m not a fortune teller. I just don’t know.”
It was the first time that Asimi hadn’t known.
That scared Akakios, more than Constantine ever could.
—
The rain pattered awkwardly on the windshield of Vasiliki’s car. When was the last time that Akakios had heard rain? He didn’t know. Of course, Akakios was out of control of his life once again, but he was, at least, outside the Facility.
Vasiliki, as he brought Akakios out of the car and into the apartment building, leading him with a firm hand on his shoulder, seemed nervous. Why was Vasiliki nervous? He’d never seemed this nervous before.
Once Vasiliki opened the lock to his apartment - Akakios felt like he recognized the number, 504 - and practically shoved Akakios in, he took a deep breath. It sounded part like relief and part like anguish. Akakios fidgeted nervously with his hands, a little unsure of what to do. The apartment was a one-bedroom ordeal - not exactly what Akakios had been expecting out of the doctor.
“I,” Vasiliki took another deep breath. “I know that this is my apartment. I know what that means for you, Akakios. So, I wanted to say my intentions plainly.”
Vasiliki took a look around his apartment, as though he was looking for something hidden. Once he was satisfied, Vasiliki turned to Akakios.
“I have a friend who’s a revolutionary- one who wants to save the dark mages. He- he knows some devils. Some who could help you. I’m calling him to help us. To have us taken to a safehouse. To have you, most of all, taken to a safehouse. You won’t have to talk to me anymore - or anyone from the Facility. You’ll have other people. You won’t be a slave anymore.”
Akakios stood in shocked silence. It felt like a trap. It couldn’t possibly be true. Him? Free? Meeting devils? Being taken care of? The thought was foreign to him.
“Now, just- just sit quietly and let me call him.”
And so, that was what Akakios did. He found a quiet corner in the apartment, a little bit out of sight, while Vasiliki paced around the kitchen on his cellphone. There wasn’t much time before the Facility sent patrols looking for them.
Even if Vasiliki owned him. Even if he was here under the guise of Vasiliki fucking him-
“They’re on their way.”
God, it was actually happening. Someone was coming. Akakios could only hope that this would turn out well for him.
More quiet pacing from Vasiliki. More quiet corner-hiding for Akakios.
Eventually, there was a rap on the door. Vasiliki jumped. Akakios curled up further in the corner.
As the people entered, Akakios curled up more in the corner, the prongs of the shock collar he bore around his neck digging in. He felt himself losing his grip. He couldn’t have panic be his first reaction to these people. Akakios needed to behave, not make Vasiliki look bad.
There were quiet whispers. One had golden eyes, goat-shaped pupils. Goat horns adorned his head. A devil. A devil in the flesh. A very powerful one at that. The other was a kind-looking man around Vasiliki’s age. He had brown skin, brown hair, and brown eyes, with glasses and a beard of stubble.
As the devil approached, Akakios pushed himself further into the corner, whimpering.
“Akakios, right?” The devil, the powerful devil, sat down across from Akakios, giving him plenty of space. “I won’t come any closer.”
When Akakios looked up at the devil, the room wasn’t Vasiliki’s anymore. The space was dark, pitch-black, yet Akakios could see the devil in front of him. Instead of that humanoid creature, though, Akakios could see a wolverine creature with goat’s hooves, eyes, and horns, sitting there, in front of him.
“They can’t see us here.”
Akakios pushed himself up, whimpering, but falling on his broken ankle. “I- Vasiliki is my master. You can’t take me away from him.”
The creature in front of him considered him for a moment before he spoke. “Akakios, I’m not taking you away from him, not unless you want me to.”
“What I want isn’t important. I’m a slave. I don’t have any wants.”
A pensive sigh. A flicker of eyes away from his face. For once, after having said that, Akakios wasn’t sure he’d said the right thing.
“Akakios.” The creature took a breath, before lifting a hooved foreleg. “I don’t care what anyone has told you before this. You are Akakios. Not a slave. Not to me.” The creature paused. “I want you to understand something, Akakios. You belong to yourself. Vasiliki, he’s done some right, but I’d argue he’s done more wrong than he has right. The greatest thing he’s done, though, was tell Stergios that he’s giving you up to freedom.”
“What?”
Akakios’ voice came out as a weak croak. He was overwhelmed. Panicked. Tired. Confused. Why was this all happening?
It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Because if it was, what had that year of torture been for?
“Akakios, as of today, you’re free.”
“Not legally. I'll never be free.”
The devil scoffed. “Mortal men think that they can make laws to control the universe. They’d make laws to control the Sun if they could. Akakios, the world is not in control of mortal men, not even ones as powerful as Vasiliki. Not of will, not of their laws. So, forget that a law ever told you that you were lesser. That you were a slave. Mortal men are foolish, Akakios, and soon, you won’t be one of them.”
It was as if the Sun and Moon collided. Everything went dark inside Akakios’ mind. He couldn’t think. Everything had shattered in a matter of minutes.
Elias, the devil, was right. He would not be mortal for much longer. A week if he was lucky.
Or a moment.
Something grew out of Akakios’ shoulders. Suddenly, he was standing on four legs. Spines protruded from his back. His mouth was full of fangs. Worst of all, horns laid on his head.
A piece of him had broken, that last hold out. That fear of becoming immortal. He was a monster, beyond the lives of mortal men. There was no other way to be. As a dark mage and as a devil, Akakios would never be anything other than a beast.
“Aka, my love,”
Akakios’ golden eyes turned to Asimi, that silvery, draconic form, standing in the flesh, before him.
Tears formed in Akakios’ eyes.
“I- I’m sorry, Asimi.”
Asimi smiled as much as they could in that scaly form. “For what, my darling? This is who you are. And you don’t have to be with Vasiliki any longer. I know Elias, darling. He’s going to protect you.”
Akakios hesitated. “But what about you, Asimi?”
Asimi smiled a little. “I’ve retired from the cause. I love you too much to fight anymore, Aka. I want to be by your side. I’ll be with you, Akakios, but you need to recover. I can help, but Elias, he’s a professional. He’s been helping devils recover for hundreds of years. I was only ever a fighter.”
“But Asimi-”
“Aka, I’m not leaving.” There was finality in Asimi’s voice. “I’m staying with you. But I can’t always be with you anymore. You need to take care of yourself. Just, focus on that, okay?”
A sigh, this time from Akakios, as tears stained his fur. “I can’t do this.”
“You can, Aka. I know you can.”
“Akakios.” Elias spoke his name almost as though it were a command. “I want you to make a decision. You can come with me and leave Vasiliki. Nobody will hurt you for it. Or, you can stay with him, and we’ll do our best to help you recover in his presence.”
Akakios looked at Elias, panicked, chest heaving. “I-I, how could I just leave him?”
“Akakios. Vasiliki is part of a horrible system. Was. Was part of a horrible system. He enabled your abuse. He even abused you a bit himself. You can leave someone who enabled what has hurt you so deeply. You can leave anyone behind. That is your right. You are you and you make the decisions that help you the most. It’s not selfish to take care of yourself, Akakios. In my experience, you need to leave this type of thing entirely behind to move on.”
Moving on.
Could Akakios ever move on?
“I’m not worth it,” Akakios eventually mumbled.
Asimi walked over and put their talons on Akakios’ shoulders. “Aka, there’s so much you can’t see. All these wonderful things. I’ve lived a long time and- and I couldn't be happier to be your lifelong platonic partner. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You are worth it. So, make your choice. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Not now. Not ever.”
Looking into Asimi’s silvery eyes, Akakios felt something that resembled a gut feeling.
“I’ll leave. I’ll-I’ll leave Vasiliki.”
With that, Asimi smiled. “You make a beautiful mountain lion, dear.”
===
@i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpsday, @pigeonwhumps, @oddsconvert, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @writereleaserepeat, @just-a-silly-little-whumper, @sparrowsage, @inscrutable-shadow, @whumplr-reader, @whumpycries, @demondamage, @whumpshaped, @itsleighlove, @whump-blog, @whumpterful-beeeeee, @sunshiline-writes
#medical whump#trans whumpee#test subject whumpee#experiment whumpee#fantasy racism#dehumanization#fantasy whump#institutionalized slavery#angels and demons#transformation whump#vague allusion to noncon#whump#whump writing#whumpblr#whump fic#whump community#conditioned whumpee#a wicked work of art
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