#idk it’s just a bit dehumanising | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whumpshaped · 5 months

Note

would you ever write a vampire with catholic beliefs? Who is struggling between his beliefs and his reality? 🍬🧠🍬🧠 I forgot my zip mouth emoji...Idk where it is...

so originally i wanted to write about isabella, but well, she's not a he, nor is she catholic (she's lutheran). so have this sad wet cat

tw vampire whumper/whumpee? i'm not sure what this man is- death, murder, religious themes, religious trauma, religious guilt, suicidal ideation, (self-imposed) starvation, self-blame, memory loss, abandonment, lady whumpee, noncon drugging, dehumanisation (of self)

It was cold when he awoke. The winter breeze bit into his twitchy body and made him curl up for a moment, but it paled in comparison to the ruthless hunger gnawing at his stomach.

His eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar scene, but recognising the terrain wasn't necessary for him to follow the scent of blood. It was all he could focus on, torn clothes and the cold long forgotten as he struggled to his feet and began following the trail.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

He wanted it. He needed it. He had to have it, no matter the cost.

He didn't have the presence of mind to stop and wonder about his heart that was no longer beating, nor the speed with which he was pursuing his prey. He didn't think about the fact that he could see all too well despite it being the middle of the night, he didn't even consider that normal people didn't usually hunt. Not in a town. Not like this.

He pounced on the man without hesitation. He pumped the body full of venom so he would be silent, then drank and drank and drank until–

"Holy shit," someone said quietly. Then, louder this time, "Holy shit. Vampire! There's a fucking vampire–"

He bolted before he could've heard the end of it. He didn't think about the man he left behind. He ran back to where he'd woken up, collapsing to the ground as soon as he got there. He felt exhausted, he felt... dead. More alive now that he'd had something to drink, but...

He lifted a hand and pressed it against his chest. Nothing. Of course, this should've been more than expected, having drained that poor man dry–

Oh dear. He'd likely killed someone.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't remember a thing from before waking up, but the past few minutes had already thrown him for a loop on their own. He was dead, a dead man walking, and he'd just killed someone. And another human had even seen him do it!

He tried to take a couple of deep breaths to ground himself, but the taste of blood in his mouth negated any effort he put in. He was a monster. He was a murderer. He was going to be hunted and killed.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The scent of blood clung to him like a ghost, and he desperately wished for a warm shower to get it off. Alas, he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a discarded coat on the ground. He should at least look through that to see whether he could piece together who he used to be. He didn't even... remember his own name.

And where was his sire? The bloodthirsty monster who turned him into one of them? Had they not even waited for him to wake up? Had they not cared at all about the life they'd ruined?

Touching the coat brought back memories of his last minutes, the way the vampire had slipped it off his shoulders and threw it on the ground. He remembered being dazed and helpless, baring his neck for the demon to feast on. At the time, it seemed like the most important thing in the world, to be able to feed them.

He looked through the pockets and found an ID for Jude Flanagan, born 1998. The picture was... him? He gingerly touched his own face, as though his fingers could ever work as well as a mirror. Was he really the Jude on the card?

He was. His fingers brushed against the cloth of an eye patch, the same one the man on the photo was wearing. More memories flooded his mind: his mother calling him, his father yelling for him from downstairs, the priest scolding him.

Priest?

He found a Bible in the next pocket, a small one. He dropped it out of fear, afraid it would burn his hands like silver, but nothing happened. The book seemed harmless, apart from the implications it brought along.

He used to be a man of God.

"N-no... No, no, no, no. You were supposed to protect me," he choked out, picking up the Bible again. "How could You let this happen? How– how could a vampire– why would You let a vampire..."

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.

"I killed a man!" Jude cried. "First You deny me Heaven, and now– the temptation was all I had! I couldn't control it! I didn't see a way out!"

He curled up with the book in hand, sobbing like he was the one to be pitied. Like he was the victim and not the murderer, like he was deserving of any kind of sympathy.

"I didn't see a way," he repeated brokenly. "I didn't... I don't... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... Please, forgive me..."

Jude never quite managed to get used to the hunger. Nor the isolation.

The abandoned shack he'd found was good for shelter, but it was not a luxury abode, and the little money he managed to scrape together every other evening while disguising himself as a human beggar was not enough for much. The coat had become his most prized possession along with all the treasures it held: the Bible, the rosary, and the wallet with all the documents.

He bought new things, too. Some soap so he could wash himself well enough in the river, some candles to combat the suffocating darkness. Every little thing was precious, bought with the goodwill of humans who didn't care to look too hard at the creature they were giving their change to.

Jude could've charmed them. He could've tricked someone into inviting him inside, and he could've enthralled them to let him stay. He could've lived a more comfortable life, with a soft bed, a clean bathtub, and a belly always full of the warmest blood.

But he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to take any of it.

He'd thought about getting a stake and finishing the job his sire had started. He wanted so badly to be put out of his misery, to be greeted with kindness and compassion at the pearly gates before being allowed in — but he didn't deserve that either. His life wasn't his own to take, and nor was his unlife. God would make that decision when He saw fit, and until then, Jude could do nothing but atone.

He took no blood from humans. He lived on the blood of pests and small woodland creatures; roadkill sometimes, when he got lucky. He hated killing anything, but at least it was allowed, or... or he hoped it was.

Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.

God had given the creatures to the humans, not the wretched monsters of the night. He could only hope and pray that his past humanity was something to be taken into consideration.

He was kneeling on the floor with his elbows resting on his borrowed bed, hands clasped together in prayer, when he caught the scent. A human. Was this the night he would finally be purged from the Earth? Or was the human the real owner of his makeshift home?

His stomach rumbled as the scent got stronger and stronger. His mouth was watering despite his best efforts to keep a level head, and he buried his face in the covers, trying to tune it out.

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.

Jude was shaking by the time the human reached the door of his temporary dwelling. He stayed on his knees and listened to the sounds of the lock being picked, preparing himself for the blessing that would be his permanent death.

If only he hadn't been starving. If only the human hadn't smelled so good.

But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.

He lunged like a wild animal as soon as the door was pushed open. His fangs sank into the poor woman's neck easily, and she let out a groan as the venom took hold. Blood, so much blood, fresh, delicious, rich, so much better than the squirrels and rats–

Jude pulled back with a start, eyes wide with terror. No, no, no, not again, not again. He wiped his mouth and even his tongue with the back of his hand, trying to get rid of the proof of his sin. The woman was still alive, letting out soft sounds of satisfaction as she lay there.

Her neck was still bleeding. He ought to close the wounds.

Jude licked his lips, then took a step backwards. No, he wouldn't lick her. Hadn't he done enough damage? He could– he could find something to bandage her with–

In truth, he didn't trust himself. There was no telling whether he'd have the self-control to stop for a second time, were he to get that close to her neck again.

"Don't you want a little more?" she asked, pushing herself into a sitting position. "I'm still bleeding so much... You don't want to waste it, do you?"

There was a mask covering the lower half of her face, and judging from that and the all black attire, she must've been a hunter. This woman could've staked him. God had given him an out, and he'd let himself be blinded by his selfish hunger.

"I'm s-sorry," Jude stammered, quickly rummaging through all his belogings to find at least a band-aid. "I'll, I'll help you– I'll patch you up, I just need a moment–"

"Can't you lick the wounds closed?" She got to her feet and ventured further into the cabin, grabbing onto the back of his shirt to steady herself and making him flinch. "There's so much blood... Is the flavour not to your liking?"

Jude spun around, and found himself trapped between the wall and his victim. She pulled her mask down and gave him a smile, eyes sparkling with unabashed want.

"You don't want this," he choked out. The smell was so strong. She was so close. She was offering, if only because of the venom, but she was offering nonetheless.

"Oh, but I do. I want it so badly."

Jude stopped breathing entirely, closing his eyes for a moment to think. "What's your name?"

"Pia Gravenor, Master."

"D-don't call me that, please."

"I can call you whatever you want, sir, if you just spare me one more bite..." Jude's eyes snapped open when she grabbed his hand and guided it to the wound, pressing his fingers against her skin slick with blood. "The bleeding isn't stopping anyway..."

He swallowed hard, and her smile widened. She was so desperate for just a bit more venom. He could give that to her, and close the wound after. He could take just one more sip. Just one more.

He was leaning in before he could fully process that he was doing it, lapping up the spilled blood trickling down her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair and kept him there, murmuring soft reassurances and pleas for him to bite again.

Please, forgive me. I'm so hungry. I've been hungry for so long.

Let me have a full meal, just this once.

link

71 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 7 months

Note

I’m actually interested on your thoughts on stewjon-or any other sci-fi or fantasy land- being “space!scotland”.

I’m Scottish, and it actually kinda turns me off of a fic? Like, it gives me an uncanny valley feeling?

Part of it is due to it, most of the time at least, leaning heavily on the English stereotypes of Scotland? Like. We’re not people who think and feel and integrate people from other cultures, we’re not our better social support and services than england, we’re not people who can enjoy the land *and* be modern people, no.

We’re tartan wearing redheads speaking in a “terrible accent” that can’t be understood, whispering about fae stories and superstition, simultaneously getting in fights in Glasgow and carving Glasgow grins, and huddling in stone huts playing bagpipes and carding wool.

It’s uh, dehumanising a bit. And I didn’t realise I had that big of a rant, feel free to ignore this I was just curious from how you were talking about the Moses!obiwan thing.

Context

That tracks! It's a wider problem that incidentally managed to get picked up and spread in a really unfortunate way by fandom, presumably in large part by Americans who Don't Know What They're Doing when they just want to, idk, fantasize about Ewan McGregor speaking in his natural voice.

I think a weird but important note is that, regardless of the Space Scotland thing, I don't usually see Stewjon portrayed, like... positively? It's a shitty background element (infanticide backstory with the barest explanation), a fantasy misogyny place (a lot of the royalty AUs, especially the omegaverse ones, and especially smut), or a general underdeveloped, low-tech, backwater nightmare (also usually used for the smut). I've seen combinations of all three, and it's a toss of the coin if the author includes the Space Scotland element in addition to the above.

(I've seen one or two that seem to take way more inspo from a mix of Imperial China and 17th century France, for instance, or just keep it vaguely European.)

Even the ones that I think try to do the Space Scotland thing respectfully, I can't really comment on because, uh, I'm not Scottish by any stretch and don't know what degree of what element is reasonable.

(I think I can sort of relate in terms of Serbian representation in Western media? Such as it is. Generally we get to be gangsters, sad orphans, an evil priest selling babies to aliens, vampire-inspired cannibals, or Belgrade gets to be a setting where there is literally not a single Serbian character. Not the same thing but I wanted to give some examples to explain why I feel I can relate when people talk about this sort of thing.)

#lightsaberwieldingdalek #star wars #phoenix answers asks #obi wan kenobi #stewjon #stewjon is space scotland

77 notes · View notes

cactusringed · 6 months

Text

You know, whilst obviously a cushy ass job, I don't think many people appreciate how difficult and stressful content creation is. Humans were never meant to have millions of eyes on them and especially people in their 20s or lower are never going to be the perfect emotionless content creating machine

Idk, it's just the way I see some people talk about CCs is kind of painful. Maybe I'm being a bit parasocial, but a few are around my age, or even younger, and I can't help but wonder how horrifically choking it must be to have to continuously entertain millions of people. I know it's easy to forget just how much that is. But even one million is a staggering amount of people. Many of them have over 5+ million subscribers.

And worse yet is that they have to balance their genuine friendships and emotions with what will be considered entertaining to an audience. It's easy as scarian girlies to be upset when Grian avoids Scar so much in the life series since third life, but I think that annoyance is a bit misplaced both because 1. They still interact quite a bit and their interaction are always full of joy and radiate with their friendship even when they play enemies, and 2. In the grand scheme of things, we remain a minority within the 8 million people who are subscribed to Grian. Many more would be annoyed to get the same storyline over and over.

There is an unfortunate pragmatism that content creators in such series have to employ. They need to juggle between their friendships, the people they tend to hover around, and the idea of what would make good content. As much as scarian girlies would eat up 5 seasons of scarian alliance, the nature of their natural friend dynamic as well as the series in general would lead to it being repetitive. It would lead to decreased viewer satisfaction. Decreased viewership. Decreased money. They're in the unfortunate position of monetizing their friendships. Who they ally themselves with is not just a matter of who they like most, but it's also a business decision. None of us are in the position to fully appreciate that, unless there are content creators with millions of followers in the midst of mcyt fans ig.

Idk. Idk. Maybe I'm too protective of CCs or whatever. But I've seen too many folks completely dehumanise them and fully forget that they're just dudes playing Minecraft for a living with their friends in front of million of people. A lot of these dudes are in their 20s or 30s. Hell, even those in their 40s have a right to struggle with shit as well. That level of attention on you can be terrifying. They reserve the right to do what they fucking want, and furthermore reserve the right to offer the kind of content they want. And maybe that includes not exploring a storyline or trope or character the fandom is hyped about because they got spooked by the attention, or flat out aren't comfortable with it. Maybe it's trying to be aware of how often they magnetize towards their closer friends, and thus avoiding making all of their videos about them, because they want to ensure the amusement of the million of people who watch them.

Idk. Idk. There's a level of entitlement we can sometimes feel towards the CCs that we as a fanbase - that we as individual people - need to be aware of and question. These are people. They're professional but not in the same sense that film actors are professionals. The majority of them completely stumbled into their popularity and their spontaneity ends up weighed down by that awareness of an audience. Idk. Grian won't read your posts about him but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be kind

70 notes · View notes

eternal-moss · 3 months

Text

Alhaitham Autism Coding

One last post before I go to bed but idk something rubs me the wrong way about a Genshin AU I’ve been seeing lately, specifically a Haikaveh one. I think I’ve seen a couple of artists make it already and I can’t help but feel uncomfortable about it. This isn’t to diss them or anything like that, I was just thinking about it.

It’s the premise where Alhaitham is a robot and Kaveh is a human (usually his creator, but that’s not really relevant). And the root of my discomfort is that Alhaitham is immensely, immensely autistic coded. It really couldn’t be more canon unless Alhaitham had a voice line that said ‘I am autistic’ (except Genshin is a fantasy game so of course that sort of thing isn’t viable).

So why not? I know a lot of autistic people can often relate to feeling ‘inhuman’ but that often comes as a result of life-long isolation and outcasting, and I think to dehumanise Alhaitham in this way discredits his actual humanity, which is not lessened by him being autistic.

The Trope Talk: Robots (a video by Overly Sarcastic Productions) finally made me understand something that I hadn’t when I was younger; I was quite a big fan of Zane from Lego Ninjago (spoiler warning for that) and didn’t understand the sinking feeling in my gut when it was revealed that he was actually a robot, and not a human.

When you make something inhuman represent traits from a real group of humans, the inverse sentiment of comparing that group to being inhuman also exists, even if unintentional. This was explained in that video by OSP, (which is really worth a watch) and made me realise a lot of things about ‘coding’ in media,

When I saw Zane, I saw traits I could recognise in myself- being slightly stilted and awkward, having a monotone voice, not picking up on social cues, being gullible, etc. However, despite these traits and shortcomings, his friends still cared about him a lot, and he wasn’t treated any lesser for it. I had never seen a person in media like that before, who behaved like me, and it made me happy.

I think the revelation that he actually wasn’t a person upset me in a way I couldn’t figure out at the time, but it was the implication that people who behave like that can’t actually be people at all.

Although out of all the autistic archetypes in media, the male ‘savant’ is definitely pretty overplayed, but details like Alhaitham’s headphones portray sensory issues in a realistic and interesting manner, rather than just being hyper-intelligent without any deficits or difficulties.

Because as much as Alhaitham is a bit of a dickhead sometimes, he’s still quite important to me (and I’m sure a lot of other people) in what he represents, and how unlike a lot of other characters who are autistic-coded, he manages to retain these traits without losing his humanity. I do think it would be somewhat of a disservice to his character to strip him of it.

#Mossy rambles #holy shit this is longer than I had planned I am not good at being concise. Is the actual essay that I had to do for homework done? No-#Autistic Alhaitham #Alhaitham #Genshin impact #Autism stuff #Autism

39 notes · View notes

pigeonwhumps · 10 months

Text

Bug and Company masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch @whumplr-reader (and @squishablesunbeam iirc you wanted to be tagged if people used object designation? Idk if you still do but anyway)

During delivery to its owner, O69 is intercepted.

2.4k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, object whump, self-dehumanisation, locked in a box, conditioned whumpee, scared whumpee, talk of discrimination against Romantics, bad caretaker, bad safehouse (with implications that it could be even worse), implied non-con, wishing for punishment, non-verbal whumpee

O69's body thrums with anticipation as it speeds down the road in its box. It's being taken to its new owner.

This is the most important day in a pet's life.

It wonders what its new owner will be like. It has been trained extensively, and it will be good for whoever it is, but it has no idea what they're like. Short hair, long hair? Kind, cruel? Where will they keep their new toy? It has no idea.

It will find out soon enough.

The van stops suddenly and O69's thrown into the wall of its box. It's not supposed to move at all so it doesn't, not reaching out to cushion itself before its head slams into the wood. It grunts.

It's not supposed to make a noise. It hopes it gets punished.

The doors to the van are thrown open. O69 wonders if it's its turn to be delivered.

Patience, O69. Objects don't get impatient, do they?

No. No, another box is removed. It's disappointed at first but then it realises that multiple boxes are being removed, multiple pairs of feet in the van. What's going on?

Its box is lifted and set down somewhere else, urgent voices surrounding it. It doesn't know what they're saying and it doesn't need to.

Someone shouts, "Go go go!", there's lots of commotion, and then O69's careening down the road, heart in its throat. It can hear screaming.

It isn't long. It isn't long, it knows it, but feels like forever.

It's not the first to be dropped off this time, either, but it feels different when it is. More careful. Like it's breakable.

That's not true. Sex toys aren't breakable. Or if they are it doesn't matter. They can always be replaced.

It can always be replaced.

There's murmuring from outside, and then a noise, a bit like hammering but different. And then daylight. Lots of daylight. The kind it hasn't seen for as long as it can remember.

More light of any sort than it's had since it was packed.

There's a face staring down at it. It tries to look appealing – it doesn't know who this is, but it thinks that regardless of that they're more likely to keep it if it's appealing.

The woman above him makes a strangled sound.

"Oh, god, you're a Romantic, aren't you? At least partly. They won't like that. Shall we get you out of there?"

And without waiting for a response that O69 isn't allowed to give, she reaches in, grabs it just below the elbows, and lifts it out.

O69 screams. Screams like its existence depends on it, like a burglar alarm, someone will come and get their property back, put it back safe, but nobody does, nobody comes.

Nobody wants it enough to come.

It's left in this woman's grip, the shocked look on her face boding nothing good, oh what if this is its owner? It didn't think so, it thought it was stolen, but maybe... maybe this is why pets don't think.

"Hey, hey, it's not as bad as all that. Let's get you sat down, then we can go over a few things." She sets it down on the carpet.

It's too soft. The lights are too much and the noise is too much and it has no idea what the expectations are and it all hurts. It wants to bury its head in its knees and jam its hands over its ears and scream until this all goes away but it can't, it's not allowed, it knows this without actually knowing, so it does the next best thing.

It tries to climb back into its box.

"Whoa, whoa, no. You don't need to go back in there, you're free."

But it's dark and familiar and safe in there and for the first time ever it ignores an order, crawling towards it, starting to climb over the lip of the box.

She wrenches it out, setting it down further away, and lifts the box. "I said, no." She's harsh this time and O69 cowers away from her tone, words like acid. "You don't need to– look, I'll be back in a minute."

And she walks out with its box. Its only safety, and she just takes it away, like it's nothing, like she doesn't care, like... like... what's O69 supposed to do now? How can it be stored, how can it be safe now? What does it mean that its storage is being taken? Retraining? Replacement? Refurbishment? It whimpers at the thought.

It needs somewhere to go. Maybe if it just stays out of the way it'll be forgotten about, allowed to stay. A dusty toy on a shelf, not played with but not thrown away, either.

It scans the room. There. A nook, tiny, in the corner, and it moves without an order, heart in its throat, desperate, crawling into it, scrunching up tight to fit. It's nearly as tight as the cage it was trained to stay still in, and it has to go really small, but that's okay. It knows how to do that. Out of sight, out of mind.

The woman comes back into the room and frowns. "Are you in here? Oh, you're... okay. Let me grab your papers and you can stay there until you're ready to come out."

She peels the plastic packet carefully off his t-shirt and moves away. It wonders how long it'll be allowed to stay here for.

Minutes, it thinks at first. Minutes which turn into hours, which eventually turn into days.

It keeps its eyes shut, body tiny, it knows how to keep still and it will. At least its training is useful for something, even here.

It isn't aware of everything, but it's aware of enough.

It hears voices, low and angry, an argument that it hopes it doesn't take the brunt of. There's worry somewhere. Someone says something frustrated that it determinedly doesn't listen to. Even though it shouldn't, it resists attempts to remove it.

Out of sight, out of mind, it's safe.

And then, a day or two (or maybe three or four) later, there's desperation and pleading. One side of a conversation, not a pleasant one, but they're not talking to it so it doesn't listen, hoping it won't be hurt for this.

It is still due a punishment though, for noises and moving and a hundred other things by now.

O69 doesn't know how long it is until there's hushed voices in the hall, and soft footsteps on the carpet. A thing that sounds like its box is brought in, set down.

"Are you sure about this Alix?" says the first voice.

"Yes," says a new voice, cutting through the air like a knife.

There's a sigh like disappointed wind, and then a set of footsteps disappears out of the door.

"Hello. I'm Alix. You must be O69, right?"

O69 looks up. The woman opposite it doesn't quite look like a knife. But then, not all knives are sharp, and not all dig in smoothly, immediately. Her voice is softer now.

Maybe she's a blunt knife, which takes a lot of force to hurt someone with. It wonders how much it would take for her to hurt it.

"Pleased to meet you. I've come to bring you somewhere safer, if you're okay with that. You can go back in your box. I know they don't like that here, but it's okay, really. If it's safer for you, that's allowed. May I call you O?" O69 doesn't know how to respond, it wasn't taught how to give an opinion. Objects don't do that. "I'm going to take that as a yes. At least one of my housemates will probably find it very uncomfortable at the least to call you 69. Pronouns. He? She? They? It?" It blinks at the last option, not deliberately choosing but just... relaxing, slightly, maybe. Hopefully not. "Okay, it/its it is. Let me bring your box closer and you can climb back in, yeah? I promise you, I have no problem with you going back in there."

Alix is true to her word, bringing its box over and then backing away. O69 unfurls itself, cramped and barely able to move from the stiffness, and crawls over to its box, climbing up and over the top. It curls up inside.

It's safe again. It's safe. It's darker and softer and safer.

"There we are. Here's a blanket in case you need one, and you can eat when we get to my house. I didn't bring any food because I didn't know if you get carsick. I'll take your lid with me, obviously, but I'm leaving it off for now, if you're okay with that. So you can see out if you like. Ready to go?"

Alix peers over the top of its box and it blinks, unsure of what's going on. All it knows is that it's being moved again and hopefully that place will be better than this one. Even though she's still not its owner, he's still not going where he should be, and what's going on?

"Great. Let's get out of here."

It's carried for a bit before the voice from days ago says hesitantly, "Alix? About this... um, thank you. I know you don't have much space."

"We have a spare room at the moment. And even if we didn't, we'd make do. Don't thank me, just... look, find someone better than Christians Against Pets to teach you this stuff, okay? You've got a good heart, good instincts. You just need to learn how to use them."

"They didn't want to help O69 at all," she sniffles.

"Yeah. They do that with Romantics. WRU allows them to exist as a rehabilitation group, think about why they'd choose them, specifically, as cover. What WRU can do, knowing where they are, where they can find a supply of unwanted and probably undefended Romantics. Find somewhere else to train, and I hope I see you again soon."

"You too. O69? I'm sorry."

O69 doesn't know what to say to that, even if it could speak.

Alix lifts its box higher in her arms and carries it outside.

"I'm going to set you down in the car now. Passenger seat. The roof's down, hopefully you can feel a breeze in there."

Alix sets it down and starts up the engine. It can see white fluffy clouds and blue skies above, the tops of green and brown trees flitting past. A flock of gangly birds honk as they pass overhead.

"Canada geese," she explains. Then she sighs, and says, "There's one of my housemates. We'll pick them up, you can meet them." Then she raises her voice and, in a knife-edge tone that makes O flinch despite itself, yells, "Bug!"

There's a moment of silence, before an indignant, "You nearly made me drop the shopping!"

"Come on, get in. Come and meet your newest housemate."

Someone flops into the back seat. "Gonna be a bit cold with the top down, isn't it?"

"You picked the car," Alix says long-sufferingly.

"I was trying to see if you'd actually buy it."

There's a pause, then Alix says quietly, "I'll always take your advice, Bug. You know that."

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat. The new voice is rougher now, like grating sand. "Who am I meeting then? Why are they in a box still?" asks Bug warily, tightly. Like a coiled-up spring.

"Bug, this is O, it/its. O, Adalia, they/them, sometimes known as Bug. Mostly by me. And O's in the box because it wants to stay there."

"Oh. Okay. Hi O. Romantic?"

O feels like it can hear Alix grimace. "Not just Romantic. Here." Papers are tossed and flicked through.

"Fuck," says Adalia. "Those monsters. I'm glad we have you now, O. You'll be safe with us. I'll make sure of it."

The way Adalia says it makes O seem certain they will. But it doesn't know what their version of safety is.

"O, when it comes to your box, you'll need to leave it fairly soon to have a wash, and so we can cover any possibly-unsafe parts of the inside. You can keep it in sight at all times though, and that's the only time I'll ask it of you. You won't have to leave it again, not until you want to, and I mean you, not me. I won't remove it from your sight, and I won't pull you from it, not even to wash."

"You'll start to smell if you don't wash though."

Alix sighs. "Bug."

No. No. She promised.

"You okay in there, O?" asks Adalia. O doesn't respond. It can't. "O, breathe. I bet you're struggling with that. It's okay. I used to be a pet, don't know if you can tell. Alix is good at this. She keeps her word. And if she doesn't, I'll punch her."

O takes a deep, slow breath. It thought it could hear something in their voice.

"Eat this."

A hand reaches in, not Alix's, this one is brown, and gives O an... an apple? O gets an apple? They bite down on it, closing their eyes blissfully (oh it's so sweet, and juicy, it's so good), almost missing the grinning face above.

"Hi. I'm Adalia. Or Bug. I'm not picky. It's nice to meet you. I'd like to be your friend."

And O thinks, so long as it can stay safe in here for as long as it likes, that it would like to be their friend too.

It doesn't know what a friend is, not exactly. But the word feels warm, and it would like that warmth.

"I have a present for you. Here."

They place something soft gently into its other hand. It looks at it closely. It's a small toy bear, looking resplendent in a tiny rainbow sweater.

It's lovely. O's eyes water. Must be the weather. Though it doesn't know why that would be, or why it would think the weather could affect it like that.

O squeezes the teddy and lets go, squeezes and lets go, squeezes and lets go. Again and again and again, over and over it does so, thinking and thinking about the warmth that being Adalia's friend might bring.

#bug and company #o69 oc #alix oc #bug oc #whumpee and caretaker #whumpee turned caretaker #bad caretaker #conditioned whumpee #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #boxie #wru #pet whump #object whump #non verbal whumpee

56 notes · View notes

screamingfromuz · 5 months

Note

This is a bit of a ramble, sorry, but it’s been in my head for a while and I just needed to put it out

Both my parents, and my grandparents, grew up in Israel. My parents were born in the late sixties and moved countries in 1998, so they went through quite a bit, and my mum sometimes talks to me about what it was like to live in the conflict. One story that’s always stuck out to me was that once there was a missile warning, but they weren’t able to go to the shelters because this time it was suspected that there would be some sort of toxic gas involved, and it could get into the shelters. So my mum and dad had to stay in their homes, with the rest of their families, and the only protection they had was putting wet towels under the cracks in the doors and windows. At this point my parents were in their early twenties. Everyone was scared out of their minds. My mum was absolutely terrified, she knew that there was a good chance they could die in this. My parents stayed on the phone the entire time, trying to comfort each other

Luckily, it was a false alarm. There wasn’t any gas, and my parents are fine. But this story never fails to make me cry

I think one of the best ways to pull people away from extremism when they’re still in the ‘soft radicalised’ phase is to share personal stories. It’s a huge problem, the dehumanisation of both Israelis and Palestinians. People’s lives, and deaths, are reported through such a cold, detached view. Usually it’s just numbers and statistics. But almost everyone who’s lived in either Israel or Gaza have had experiences like my parents, and everyone has felt those core feelings that they have. And it’s so important to talk about this kind of stuff, to share personal experiences, because it humanises people. It forces these dumbass extremists to confront the fact that these are real people suffering, and that it’s not a fucking video game where there’s the Bad Guys and the Good Guys

I don’t think this would work on those who’ve been fully radicalised, they’re too far gone, and honestly they’d probably be happy to hear personal stories about the ‘wrong side’ suffering. But still, I think this kind of stuff can and does pull people back into reality. Idk, I just wanted to get this out there because I’ve been thinking about it lately

I still remember when it was mandatory to hold government issued gas masks. One of my earliest memories is my kindergarten teacher showing us pictures that explain how to put them on.

for a few years my bedroom was in the safe room. It was fun because I didn't need to get out of bed if there was a missile.

about a decade ago, due to a mechanical problem, a bus in Jerusalem exploded. People immediately went into "call and confirm mode".

the buses I would take back home from school wold have cracked windows due to people stoning them.

I was 10 minutes away from at least two stabbing.

in school we had an earthquake drill, fire drill, armed attacker drill and missile drills.

those are just the things on the top of my head

#israel #palestine #i/p #israel/palestine #the israeli palestinian conflict #living like this fucks you up #how can people justify it

14 notes · View notes

n0brainjustvibes · 6 months

Note

mucka blucka (intro into cacophony) by Chonny Jash is a huge Shallan song (unfortunately it works even better when you know chonny jash lore which i doubt you know)

OUGHBH GOD YEAG. even from the album cover I can see it's gonna be good. alas I do not know the lore but I'll do my best!

huh this kinda fits with how much she controls and conditions her own mental state...

she do be a bard (Lightweaver)

yeah! this lyric is also a kenzie lyric btw :)

and now i. am having Emotions about shallan using jokes and stories and art as emotional first-aid for her brothers. shallan the emotional field medic, putting pressure on the wound even as the bullets rain down. she's a bit like kaladin with bridge 4. trying her damnedest to help those around her even in an actively traumatising situation.

LMAO, OKAY, THERE'S LOW HANGING FRUIT HERE...

...but I'm really more invested in this bit, which I think also fits her past. Trying to help her brothers but knowing that the abuse just keeps recurring.

GOD, FUCK, YEAH. yeah. YEAH. that's her past. we've seen the effects of Lin's abuse of her brothers, now we're seeing the trauma he inflicted on her by forcing her to put up the perfect-daughter facade in front of guests - the me that's shown to everyone else. "Gets paraded" also hits; I think Shallan's past was a lot more dehumanising than many people realise, that she was treated in large part as an ornament to use. And "stuck underground" fits with how she's restricted physically to the house, restricted socially to her family and immediate guests, restricted emotionally and unable to express herself except in fear behind closed doors, restricted intellectually with her neglected education.

fits on vibes alone! the contradiction of shallan davar. I'm sure there's way more to say about this too. To me, it's Shallan in Kharbranth - pride in what education she did manage to scrape, and joy in her newfound freedom, clashing with her hidden mission to steal Jasnah's Soulcaster, her shame at realising how insufficient her education was, and the echoes of her father (and mother, though I won't elaborate because spoilers for the asker)'s treatment on her self-esteem. Also, she's seeing Pattern here, and thinks she's going mad. Fun times!

The "I/We" pronoun shift is also interesting. Someone who knows more about DID could probably say more about it than me, but from what I understand DID develops to deal with trauma, and some alters take on more(?) of that trauma - so maybe this shows the Three system as a whole taking on the burden, while Shallan gets a breather to act as a more carefree scholar? But then again, I'm pretty sure she wasn't plural yet at this point, so idk if it would work that way.

AND SPEAKING OF THE THREE AS A SYSTEM!! I don't think this necessarily maps directly onto the Three, but it's kind of the same idea, right? Different parts of oneself to take on traumas/'tolls'.

And this is exactly what Shallan consciously wants, thinks she needs, but must move away from as a Lightweaver. She must admit truths about 'the man behind the lines', whom she hides with jokes and art, to progress in her Oaths and character arc.

This whole part feels like her trying to turn Pattern away at the start of their bond. Which I don't recall whether she did, but feels like something she would do.

[cough] LIGHTWEAVER!!!!!!

This bit reminds me of how Hoid tried to help out younger Shallan, iirc, encouraged her, but she still had to go back to her home and experience further trauma.

h.ough. yeag. don't really have anything to say abt this. i think this fits something (someone?) that happens in RoW, but spoilers.

[deep breaths]. holy shit. that was. a Lot. um. yeah really good song about trauma and identity and fracturing of the self and art as a means for concealing, expressing, and shaping one's identity! incredibly shallan. and incredibly Three.

#shallan davar #not all Shallan songs are Three songs imo but this one is definitely both #banger tunes for my blorbos #stormlight archive

9 notes · View notes

goldenpinof · 1 year

Note

I'm gonna say this first: I don't really vibe with Dan anymore. I still watch his content now and again but I'm not really into his delivery. I feel ok with that and I don't dislike him - I just don't enjoy him. So I'm saying what I'm gonna say as a Phil fan.

I read the anon regarding how Dan treats Phil. I just feel like even if I personally don't vibe with Dan - and that anon clearly does not like him - it's really nothing to do with any of us how he is with Phil. Agree with the other anon - Phil is a grown man so does not need to be babied in this way. But there is a bigger point here - he chose to buy a house with Dan.

Idk if people realise the cost of buying property in London, but you don't do that lightly. You just don't. Because you basically need to auction the soul of your firstborn and sell a kidney to even afford a tiny studio flat, let alone what - from what we've seen - seems to be a large house. Its no joke. So if Phil had any issues at all with the way Dan treats him he would not have made that joint purchase.

They've been in each others lives for all this time now. People need to let this go and just move on tbh because treating a 36 year old man like a small child is at best pathetic but at worst dehumanising and offensive.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk!

i'm posting this because i appreciate the time you spent on writing it. i don't wanna discuss absurd theories about their relationship (i'm sorry. if someone wants to drop an ask feel free, i will read it without posting. i do appreciate all of you even if i don't reply. some asks are like ticking bombs 😂 i'm not in the mood for exploding this particular one).

thank you for a remark on London property prices! i agree that if Phil wasn't 100% sure he would never do something like that. i think people sometimes forget how far dnp's relationship went and how much they actually don't show us. like, we don't understand the full significance of a penthouse they basically built and fully designed themselves. it's a huge project and commitment. and it's a lot of work, if they survived that they can survive pretty much everything together.

and i agree that this "belittling" of Phil's capability to stand up for himself and make his own decisions is quite offensive. especially since he's been very vocal about how these assumptions are wrong. people are either incapable of hearing him or don't believe him. and both of it is a bit concerning.

#about Dan's delivery. i get it!! dd is very nuanced (if i can use this word)#i'm glad he's back #but i also think like he can do better #some pieces of content just fall flat #the thing is to me that i like listening to him talk #so i don't really mind him just saying shit #but i recognise when topics are boring or when he is trying too hard #answered #dan and phil #phandom

19 notes · View notes

taylortruther · 11 months

Note

Tatty makes me hope that Taylor is already booking dates to work on her movie so she can release the re-recorded albums over the next two years, and be too busy to release ts11 and all that goes with making an era out of it. You know, give her time to break up with him, have everyone forget it happened, have heaps more life experiences and a new relationship to gush over instead… like when we thought rep would have calcium break up songs but it was just Joe love songs ans her persona of a bad bitch. Let’s just skip matty and get to the good bits :) lol

also that isn’t meant to dehumanise her or do the dollhouse thing, but I just couldn’t spend money on, or willingly seek out her music whilst they are together and he does what he does. That profile in the New Yorker could have been an opportunity to at least try to clarify that he wasn’t a piece of 💩 and instead he leaned into it and was like ‘pfft faux woke people are just mad over nothing 🙄🚬’

I feel like Tay is going through it and I’m trying to give her the benefit of the doubt that this is part of her going through it…. But if it turns into something bigger, and not a starved-of-attention-rebound-with-the-opposite-of-your-ex type thing, then idk if I would even want to listen to her new music :/

i don't think you are playing dolls with her life, no worries there. i think this is a generous and also realistic take on what's happened the last couple of weeks (and the consequences of it in her music/the fandom later) and i agree with you. it would be nice to just skip this part (heavy sigh)

9 notes · View notes

fierykitten2 · 3 months

Text

A few things about the next chapter of Temporal Boost (no I haven’t forgotten about it)

Potential spoilers for I think it’s chapter 9

Okay, I was kinda hoping the arguments would wait until the end of the chapter, not the beginning

Hopefully now I’ve taken a break I can balance out the focus a bit better - Wake, Bolt and Deathborn should hopefully get more focus this chapter as opposed to Leaves being the unofficial main character of the fanfic and Wake and Phoenix (and I guess Crown) acting more like deuteragonists. QQQ still seems to be limited to one or if you’re lucky two lines per chapter, Phoenix and Crown already had a lot of focus in the last few chapters and it’s too early to tell how poorly I’ve been treating Fire and Boulder

I think Terapagos may end up being the villain with the least focus this chapter (which is good because Deathborn gets sidelined just as much as QQQ while Fire and Boulder have only just been introduced) just because if I split up the Proto Beasts and Neo Swords again it’s the only main villain that doesn’t nicely fit any pairs of the main characters. Speaking of Terapagos, I could probably give it a gender this chapter but I guess I’m sticking to gender-neutral Terapagos for now. I mean I’m sure Bolt and Crown would just continue to dehumanise it with it/its pronouns even if they knew its gender and pronouns. It might be interesting to have Fire and Boulder (and presumably Deathborn) as the only ones that know its gender. Yeah, uhh… idk if you can tell but so far only one chapter has been posted since the release of The Indigo Disk and a lot of the stuff in TB seems to be based on fan theories beforehand (like Terastal Form Terapagos being massive… yeah still kinda sad Terapagos doesn’t rival the last three Third Legendaries in terms of power) or just other stuff I thought would be cool. Yeah I seem to have had most of the fanfic planned out not long after Raging Bolt and Iron Crown were announced

Also I guess I have to comment on the coincidence of me naming a fanfic about the Proto Beasts and Neo Swords Temporal Boost when the English expansion introducing the Proto Beasts and Neo Swords to the TCG is called Temporal Forces (I still think Wild Force and Cyber Judge did it better)

#Temporal Boost #ao3

2 notes · View notes

whumpshaped · 7 months

Text

Stray 1

hi im here to bring u a fun lil interactive thing bc i felt inspired. will this have a second chapter before november? uhhhhh idk man...... anyway have fun

masterlist

tw institutional/systemic pet whump, second person pov (and you're the pet!), forced to eat gross stuff, memory loss, past trauma, dehumanisation

You stumble out of the facility with the vague understanding that you want to leave. You can't quite remember why, you can't quite remember what you had before the facility, and you can't quite remember what's so bad about the place... but something in you is screaming at you to run.

So you run.

Even as the evening air clears your head, the memories don't come back to you. You have no concept of life before being a pet, outside of a few flashes of faces you think you might've known at one point and places you might've frequented. It's not a lot, not even enough to convince you they aren't dreams that lodged in your head for a little too long.

Maybe this is a mistake, honestly. You're basing your entire escape on these flashes, and a weird gut feeling. Now you're on the run from the Pet Protection Agency, and you have zero idea how to survive as a stray. It'd be so much easier to turn back around and give yourself up... but god, this nagging feeling in the back of your mind just won't leave you alone. You have to keep running.

Days pass, and you learn what kinds of food in the dumpster are still fit for consumption. Weeks pass, and you learn how to seem semi-normal. How to blend in and pretend you're a person. Months pass, and you're starting to run out of stamina. Of drive. Of motivation. It's getting colder, too. You're thinking of turning yourself in again.

You don't even make an effort anymore. You stay in the same alleyway, go through the same dumpster... Sometimes you venture a bit further out, but at this point, you're entirely over it. If the PPA's people find you, so be it. Being a stray is miserable.

But one day, a small offering appears on the ground. It's a little plastic bowl with some kind of paste in it. It smells... suspicious. It's definitely not for you– no, that's not true. It's definitely for you, but it's clear that the person who left it doesn't... know who you are. What you are.

You crawl a bit closer, your stomach rumbling loudly. Maybe just a scoop. A bite. Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe eating cat food is fine, under certain circumstances. Maybe you can trick yourself into liking it, even.

Well... as soon as you try it, you realise that won't be happening. But food is food, and you're desperate. You can only hope it won't poison you.

The empty bowls disappear every morning, and a full one appears every evening. The routine soothes you somewhat. Of course it does, you're just a pet, and pets need routine — another reason why it was utterly stupid to run and throw yourself into a life of uncertainty. But in an odd turn of events, you accidentally found someone who seems to care, and that's comforting.

One evening, while you're furiously rubbing your hands together to create some semblance of warmth, you hear the stranger enter the alley. You hear the telltale scratch of the bowl against the ground as they set it down, and your mouth waters despite knowing how gross the food is. But you don't hear them leaving.

"Here, love. I've brought you some food," they — he? — say softly, and you realise your mysterious patron saint is planning on staying this time. He wants to see where his food is going, clearly. An infinite number of options and fears run through your head all at once.

What if he's with the PPA? What if this has all been a setup? What if he's going to be angry about you not being a sweet little animal? What if he's a horrible person who's just playing you? What if– what if–

i'm gonna start a separate taglist for this so lmk if u wanna be on it :) also no promises whatsoever abt the updates i just felt rly in the mood for smth like this tonight

@whumpsday @the-scrapegoat

#whump #whump writing #choose your own adventure #cyoa #memory loss #past trauma #dehumanisation #pet whump #stray

104 notes · View notes

ahsoka-in-a-hood · 2 years

Text

I always feel sort of betwixt and between when it comes to Anakin

When I watch RotS I really do just come away thinking Anakin is insane. He had a mental health crisis. Frankly the more people try to convince me Anakin was fully cognizent of himself and his choices and thought he was doing the right thing the more insane he sounds. He was not rational. It’s not like I think evil is caused by mental illness- I don’t think Dooku or Sidious are mentally ill. Sidious makes some big gambles and he got a little funny at the end with his father-son cage matches, but he’s just quirky. He’s a fully functioning evil little man. But Anakin? His neurons are misfiring. It’s the way everything he does is utterly and completely self destructive. He takes a nuke to nearly everything he ever cared about. He shreds himself piece by piece. Idk about everyone else but I only start to self-harm like that when I’m death spiralling. It’s the way less than a week ago he would have unhesitently given his life to defend the jedi but now he’s rambling about them being evil traitors. It’s the way he really does love Obi Wan but he betrays him. It’s the way he spends the next 20 years in an abusive relationship with his new master, punishing himself and everyone else the whole time. Vader was not a happy man, not even a tiny little bit. It’s the way there was no substantial internal logic at all to Palpatine’s deal but he doesn’t question it. Anakin is maybe not a genius but he’s not actually that stupid. He knows how negotiations with the enemy work. But reason had nothing to do with it. It’s the way there’s this clear through line in the movies where he keeps getting asked to choose between the jedi and his other family, and when he’s nine he chooses the jedi, a traumatic separation, but because of that he isn’t there to save his mother and he falls, a traumatic event, and then the same pattern of events begins to repeat itself in the form of his dreams, the beginning of the same sequence repeating, and Anakin, always wrapped in chains of destiny, is completely subsumed by the inevitable doom. Those dreams look and smell and taste like a trigger. All Sidious really had to do was confront him with that same recurring choice: the jedi or Padme. It didn’t matter that his terms were batshit. He can maybe help save her, a clear liability to his imperial plans, with some unspecified power he maybe has? But he hardly needed to sell it with logic. By that point Anakin was fucked up enough to believe the mere act of choosing Padme over the jedi would save her. Everything else would fall into place.

But it’s not like I think Anakin was some sweet guy before he snapped. Sometimes people really make him out to be too good before he fell. His negative traits are established back in AotC and carry on throughout tcw. He’s a already a baby fascist. He’s already extremely adept at dehumanising people. He murders a whole village of indigenous people and justifies it by claiming they’re animals. That didn’t come out of nowhere. He’s prone to violence. He tortures prisoners and lies about it to the other jedi. He knows full well that he’s privately acting in ways that go against the moral norms of his society, but he feels entitled to authority among them. Anakin as Vader is perfectly believable. Who he becomes when he loses his last marbles is defined by who he was when he still had them.

#sometimes i ramble #anakin skywalker #idk i get frustrated sometimes about how so often he either depicted as too horrible as anakin or too sweet?#and i guess i'm just here thinking he's a fuckboy who went fully nuts

50 notes · View notes