#tw dehumanisation
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dsmp analogue horror but it’s c!dream recording c!tommy and treating him like a dangerous scientific anomaly. the tapes go from the beginnings of the disc wars and the only break in them is when c!dream was in prison, where the recordings devolve into him rambling at the camera while suffering from bloodloss until they abruptly go right back to normal when he escapes.
#dream smp#primeboys (derogatory)#c!dream being a mad scientist and deciding this random teenager is the Greatest Scientific Anomaly is so funny btw#c!tommy called him a bitch and he went Hmm This Is Clearly Unnatural And Needs To Be Studied#tw dehumanisation#tw implied torture#tw implied stalking
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"What made you realize you deserved better?"
"... I didn't. I didn't know there was a 'better', not for me. When a place like that, treatment like that, is all you know, you don't have thoughts of deserving better. There's no point of comparison. You just believe that's how it should be.
"I thought I was a subhuman, a monster, a defect-- and escaping... Well, that was confirmation of that, over anything. I escaped because I was a defect, and defects aren't known to act like they're supposed to."
#whump#whump prompt#my prompt#dialogue prompt#inhuman whumpee#captivity mention#tw dehumanisation#i was gonna add another thing to this but it disappeared on me orz
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In Hybrids AU, whenever c!Tommy gave in to his instincts, c!Dream used it/its in third person to refer to him, emphasising that by breaking this rule, he became less of a person (even though he was never one to his guardian.) c!Dream didn’t simply imply it, he often said it openly to ensure that it ingrained into the teen’s mind. :)
The routine that c!Tommy was forced to follow, was extremely effective in bending him to c!Dream’s will, as it comprised of mindless repetitive work, which is believed to be ideal for shattering one’s free will. Every morning, c!Dream made him write down the same lines of what he wanted him to believe in, for example:
“Hybrids are unnatural, repulsive and dangerous. Hybrid Hunters do us a favour by culling us. Dream was merciful and decided to make me better instead.” (@mcg-127)
“I am inferior because I am a hybrid. I do not deserve to be treated like a human. Dream is teaching me to be a person and to be better than my instincts.” (@mcg-127)
“Avian vocalisations are irritating, noisy and repulsive, if I want to ever be worthy of being seen as human, I must reject them. They might get me recognised as hybrid, and humans or hybrids would undoubtedly murder me. Dream only punishes me to protect me.”
“I should be grateful that Dream was the one who found me, because other humans are cruel, neglectful and sadistic. Unlike them, he doesn’t see me as entertainment, but genuinely cares for me, provides me with necessities, and is determined to fix and make me more human.”
After it was done, since the early morning, and almost until c!Dream’s return, he had chores to do.
In addition to that, c!Dream often referred to c!Tommy as his pet or possession, and soon enough, the teen stopped questioning it altogether; if his owner said so, it must be true.
As much as c!Dream hated hybrids, he would occasionally bring them up in front of c!Tommy, and refer to them using other pronouns, with the sole purpose of showing that although all hybrids are inferior to humans, c!Tommy would never be equal, even with his own kind.
#i personally use it/its#hybrids!dream just looks like someone who thinks they're dehumanising#my c!prime thoughts#dream smp#dsmp#c!primeboys#c!discduo#primeboys (derogatory)#c!tommy#c!dream#tw dehumanisation#tw abuse#tw conditioning#tw possessive behaviour#tw obsessive behaviour
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Besides Ratchet, Mirage and Hound, have any of the other Autobots experienced physical/psychological torture? And if so, how did it effect them?
Sure! The ENTIRETY of the Dinobots, for one! They were lab-mutated and forced to be Proteus�� ‘attack dogs’, so they’re naturally extremely mistrustful of any scientists (it takes a long time before they let Wheeljack touch them), do NOT like to be handled/restrained (Swoop has panic attacks, Sludge has VERY DESTRUCTIVE panic attacks given his size and strength, Grim/Slag/Snarl react with judicious, instinctive violence). Grimlock sometimes disassociates, Swoop has shut-down episodes of PTSD, and Sludge is, even on a day-to-day basis, mentally gone compared with how he used to be/has been reduced to a simpleton.
It’s why Ratchet agrees to teach Swoop to become a ‘Medicine Man’, to make things more comfortable for them and so they can receive care from someone who is part of them.
There’s also Bumblebee, who came from a very abusive household (and has the burn scars to show for it/healed fractures on his x-rays) and still wakes up hyperviligant some mornings remembering that yeah, my sperm donor’s last words before I left were for me to run because he was gonna kill me if he ever caught me.
He's always on edge around people with loud voices/who have a tendency to yell, and he's constantly dancing between fight or flight and oftentime there is NO middle ground. He either thrashes everyone on the battlefield or he fucking runs for miles when he has no outlet and is reminded that his abuser is still very much alive and one day, that man will find him again.
Prowl is the Poster Child for psychological torture--he just genuinely cannot remember a lot of it because Trepan was working on him (He's the only one on both sides who HAS had mnemosurgery done on him several times) any time he showed signs of rebellion as a youth. His memory is fractured/in pieces and he's calm/stoic because he's well-aware he's terrible at emotional regulation otherwise. He used to break down in private though, in his early days of having Little!Springer around because it's like, he used to be like this, why can't he remember any of it, why did Methosulas DO THIS he didn't have agency, and now he clearly doesn't even have ownership over his own DNA, what is he really if not fucking SPARE PARTS at the end of the day how is he even a person at this point (Jazz has to help him out of this state a few times)
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Hunted Grimwalker au
Okay, another toh grimwalker au concept that was brought on by my musings about how Grimwalkers must have a lot of misconceptions floating around them, as well as demonizing and dehumanizing depictions in articles and media due to the fact that they are canonically implied to be creatures of legends in the modern era, and that clashing with a random thought about the initial plot of the movie "Space sweepers" and yeah… anyway thanks for @sergeantsporks for helping fix the initial concept in a way that it made sense.
Hunter somehow finds out about the draining spell sometime pre-canon and, after having a crisis over the fact that Belos wants to wipe out all life in the demon realm, he decides to leave, as he doesn't want part in having an entire nation die.
He isn't caught initially, but the Collector probably snitches on him but gives him a headstart cause it's more fun that way, so Hunter gets confronted by Belos on his way out the castle. During the confrontation, Belos says something about "having suspicions, but hoping it wasn't true" and "Grimwalkers being made for a purpose", but doesn't give further context before trying to kill Hunter.
Hunter does manage to escape, albeit with some wounds and heavy damage to his staff that makes it break completely soon after he escapes the castle. This is a blessing in disguise as, unbeknownst to Hunter, Belos had a tracker put in that staff.
Since Hunter didn't find out the truth about the Golden guards in this au, he still has some love and attachment towards his uncle despite everything, and even though he can't condone wiping out the entire isles, he still tries to tell himself that maybe Belos was so stricken by the tragedies wild magic causes that he came to the conclussion that this world is beyond repair and thus wants to put it out of its misery, so essentially that Belos is a man with sympathetic motives that went too far. Or maybe the Titan is unhappy with people living off of His dead body at all and wants them gone for it. Essentially, Hunter still refuses to believe Belos would do something maliciously. He doesn't have much time to think about the thing about grimwalkers Belos mentioned, until…
While he's in some town, freshly on the run, scrounging up a disguise and trying to figure out what to do next, Belos makes an isles-wide public announcement telling people about the sad discovery that who he thought was his nephew that he had taken in after his family was wiped out by wild magic was actually a grimwalker made from the bones of his real nephew by wild witches in an attempt to infiltrate the castle, and now he's on the run with vital information that could put the isles in jeopardy. Belos then gives information and description on the grimwalker, specifically noting the unnaturally intense redish-magenta eyes as a key difference between them and a real witch. So yes, Hunter has a massive bounty on his head, and is made out to be a monster you should not get deceived by as it tries to blend in with other people. Propaganda
Again, due to not knowing the whole story of the grimwalkers and Belos' family like he does in canon, and due to still having an emotional attachment to Belos and the belief that Belos at least cared for him- well, the "real" Hunter, he actually does believe the propaganda about grimwalkers himself. He just thinks that maybe some of the details have been exagerrated to make him seem more dangerous than he really is, but it's all based on truth. Belos wouldn't lie to people, he wouldn't be so harsh on his actual family, right? Big identity crisis and self-loathing ensues.
He hesitates to even think of himself as Hunter anymore due to the fact that it's supposed to be the "real" Hunter's name, and he's just a copy made from his bones. But he didn't know that, and this was the only name he'd ever known, so who is he then? Maybe it's not important, it's not like he really has many chances to tell anyone his name nowadays anyway.
Hunter manages to find some tinted glasses and goggles to hide his eyes.
He sleeps in multiple abandoned beast burrows and it's actually oddly comfortable due to being subconsciously reminded of the earth he grew in.
Remember guys, there is no Flapjack yet. He is completely alone at first.
He mostly survives off the foraging skills he gained in scout training and, with his selkiedomus skin, he dives into the boiling sea to retrieve items to sell.
He sells to Eda sometimes. She does not know he's a grimwalker at first.
Hunter knows about the Day of unity plans, but since mostly everyone is trying to kill him without even waiting for an explanation, that information is useless if nobody will believe him. So he knows the world will end in a year, and he's powerless to stop it, especially when he's struggling to survive at all.
Hunter believes the stuff about being created to infiltrate, thinking that maybe his nature made his betrayal of Belos inevitable, and he did complete his purpose now, so at first he's like: "Okay so if wild witches made me to infiltrate Belos, and it turns out that Belos is planning something bad, then maybe wild witches are okay? No, but if they still killed a kid to do this- but maybe it was a sacrifice they had to make, since everyone will die from the draining spell anyway? So, now that I know parts of his plan, do I find the wild witches that created me and report back to them? Will I be disposed of afterwards? Will I die automatically after the task is complete?!"
He spends some time going around trying to find his creators. It is a very weird experience for both parties involved.
Hunter, coming up to Eda: "Did you make me?"
Eda: "Did I WHAT!?"
If you couple this with the trans Eda headcanons that I saw a few times in the fandom, along with the fact that Caleb is actually related to the Clawthornes and Hunter does have some Clawthorne-typical traits himself, Eda could deadass have a moment where she's like, thinking back on some of the exes she had around 16-ish years ago, like "Shit, did I?"
She figures out he's a grimwalker soon enough, but boy were those some stressful few minutes. And then she realizes that that's the grimwalker she's talking to and yeah this situation's a mess. (This scenario probably won't be canon, at least not completely, but I put it in cause it was funny and the entire rest of the au is sad af)
Eda doesn't believe Belos is telling the true story about the grimwalker, but due to the fact that Eda was an urban legend junkie, she read up on a lot of misconception-ladden legends about grimwalkers, so she's still wary of Hunter at first. She has a talk with Bat Queen once the subject is brought up during a potion delivery, since Bat Queen was alive back when grimwalkwers were still around, and she confirms that most of this stuff Belos is saying is untrue. That and seeing the very obviously beat up and constantly on-edge kid convinces her that this is really just a kid in a really bad situation.
Both Eda and Bat Queen try to offer help, but Hunter is for obvious reasons distrustful and only ever accepts help with a metaphorical ten foot pole. They later accounted for that by providing help in equally roundabout ways.
There is more stuff to this au but that's all I'm writing for now.
#the owl house#toh hunter#toh grimwalker#toh au#hunted grimwalker au#tw dehumanisation#tw religious trauma#lindendragon
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who posted the list? i’m happy to name and shame.
ah yes, the infamous lesbianchemicalplant's post in 3 years ago, only to be reblogged back to surface.
(tw antisemitism, tw dehumanisation)
#ask reply#lesbianchemicalplant#tankies#tw antisemitism#tw dehumanisation#israel#palestine#for the tankies exiling all israelis is not enough
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TW dehumanisation, cannibalism of a humanoid species
//
A world where merfolk are nothing but exotic delicacies to humans. Of course, such an elusive species would only be served to the richest and most influential of people but that doesn't mean that the demand is any lesser.
A merperson unlucky enough to be targeted for such a reason would either be lured into a netted trap or even be hunted down in their own habitat. Then they would be mercilessly butchered- their killers' ears plugged to avoid listening to their chillingly human-like screams- before ending up as on a fancy, garnished plate. The humanoid torsos remain untouched, eventually being dumped into the ocean in their hundreds, where thousands of living merfolk can witness the gruesome fate of their kin.
There are movements and organisations against this as mermaids are too similar to humans to be regarded as 'just another meat-giving animal' but such a pleasure isn't going to be given up any time soon, especially when there are so merfolk left.
#this has to be one of the most screwed up posts i've made on this blog so far#even i'm surprised at how horribly whumpy it is#mermaid whump#mermaid whumpee#nonhuman whump#nonhuman whumpee#tw cannibalism#cw cannibalism#tw dehumanisation#cw dehumanisation#whump#tw whump#whump prompts#whump scenario#whump writing#whump inspiration#indu whumps
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Presumably if the mons in question aren’t with you and your child, they would either be at their old adoption agency or their most recent adopted home, both of which are in Paldea if I am remembering correctly. Though the adoption agency might have been in Kalos, I could have been mistaken. Either way, thank you for confirming that you don’t have them, that clarifies things.
We haven't moved any pokemon that isn't ours.
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Xenophobia - The Date
[CW: depression vibes, kidnapping, drugs/sedation, dehumanisation, bbu-adjecent, vomit mention/bodily fluids, branding, death mention]
[Masterpost/Contents] [Previous]
:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･. :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:
Xen checked themself in the mirror for what could have been the fiftieth time. They didn’t have many outfits to choose from, but they did the best with what they already had, since a shopping trip for special date-night clothes was out of the question. They squeezed into their newest jeans instead and their softest plaid shirt, and ended up fiddling and tucking and untucking and smoothing everything out for far longer than was strictly necessary. They hoped Salia wasn’t planning on taking them somewhere upscale and posh. The last thing they needed was to be made to look like as big of a fool as they felt.
They checked their phone for the time, and ran their hand through their hair once more before finally turning away. They were clean, they were doing their best, and this was the real them. It was all they could do.
There were multiple points on their walk to the park where they nearly stopped and turned around, but by some miracle Xen made it to the bandstand a few minutes early nonetheless. They had made sure to leave plenty of extra time for this exact reason - that, and there was always the possibility the walk would make them sweaty and stinky and that was the last thing they wanted to be on a first date. They still couldn’t quite believe Salia was interested in them; whilst it would never cross their mind to think such things about other people, they couldn’t find a single thing about themselves that they genuinely liked. Their face was too round, their body too chubby, hair too flat and they swore up and down that their shoulders had a weird slope to them. At least they tried their very best to always be kind and helpful to make up for it, but turning up to a first date with an offensive smell about them would not make things easier.
At this time of year it was thankfully still pretty light out, so Xen was totally at ease sitting on the steps of the bandstand as they waited for the mothfolk to arrive. The evening air was still warm, the setting sun lighting up the clouds with magnificent orange and pink hues – it was the a perfect atmosphere for a romantic date. The only other people in the park were a couple of dog walkers off in the distance, heading up the hill and presumably home for dinner. Xen’s stomach rumbled a little as they wondered what Salia had planned – they hoped it was a picnic.
A few minutes after six and with still no sign of her, their nerves had turned into a vibrating swarm of anxiety in their belly. They told themselves it was normal to be late – nobody else obsessively counted down the seconds on the clock – but they couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that Salia had stood them up, that she was always going to stand them up, and that this whole thing was all a big joke. Maybe she was nearby, watching but never intending to approach. Maybe she was laughing with her friends, taking a video of the pathetic nerd who sat there waiting because they dared to think that somebody might want them-
“Excuse me, you’re Xen, right?”
They stood up immediately, their joints clicking and all the blood rushing to their head. Through the brief dizziness, they saw that the pink mothfolk that had approached them bore a striking resemblance to Salia, but was clearly not her; he was decidedly masculine in appearance with his short cream hair styled back and gelled, whereas Salia’s had been fluffy and messy and soft– or at least it had looked that way in her photos, and Xen would have passed it off as her profile just being filled with older pictures if their general aesthetics weren’t entirely different too. Salia had consistently presented herself as sweet and rosy, preferring big sweaters and fuzzy socks over elegant fashion. The man before her wore a designer tracksuit and a gold chain. Only their wings were exactly the same, both a shimmering pink and yellow that reminded them of macaroons and ice-cream. He wasdefinitelystill cute, though.
“Oh, hi! Yes, I- um, Salia, right?” they replied in greeting, not wanting to be rude. Genders changed all the time, this could be a recent thing, and it wasn’t like it really mattered.
He laughed, though, and they felt stupid. “No, no. She’s my sister.” He held out his hand for Xen to shake, and they took it. “She asked me to come along with her to meet you – you know how dangerous online dating can be these days. We wanted to make sure you weren’t some weirdo.”
Xen laughed too, still shaky with surprise and a little relief. “Of course! I totally get it, don’t worry,” they said brightly, giving him a firm handshake and hoping they weren’t too clammy. He wiped his hand on his tracksuit afterwards and they died a little inside.
“She’s actually set up a little evening picnic for you both, but realised at the last minute it probably wasn’t a good idea to meet a total stranger in the park after dark on her own,” he explained with a smile. He glanced over Xen’s shoulder and tilted his head. “Are you okay? Did you bring anyone with you too?”
Warmth filled Xen’s cheeks as they shook their head. They didn’t have anyone to bring even if they’d wanted to. “Nah, I think I might have been a little too trusting,” they grinned instead. “Things like that don’t really happen to me – like, weirdos just don’t seem to take much of an interest. Thankfully.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Okay… Well, if you’re happy to follow me, I’ll take you to where she’s set up and leave you two lovebirds to it?”
“Please,” Xen breathed out, trying to release the tension that was building in their shoulders from this awkward conversation. ‘Things like that don’t really happen to me’ – god, they sounded so pretentious and conceited. They couldn’t blame her – either of them- for being cautious. Online dating was bloody terrifying, and Salia was beautiful. They dreaded to think how many times things might have gone wrong for her, how many close calls she might have had. They checked their mobile was still in the back pocket of their jeans with a little pat and joined her brother on the path, ready for him to lead the way. At least he seemed lovely.
It wasn’t far to go – after a few steps, Salia’s brother veered off the little path and led them towards one of the many copses in the park. A single, quiet alarm bell started to ring in the back of Xen’s mind but they shoved it away. They knew this place. It was just a few trees and a couple of bushes in the middle of the green – not some mysterious, endless forest with nobody around for miles. They used to climb these exact same trees all the time - thick branches both ran low along the ground and high into the sky, making it the perfect playground. They should probably figure out what kind of trees they were one day. They also knew that inside the cluster of trees was a small clearing, the dirt well-packed and flattened by thousands of other visitors over the years. The more they thought about it, the more perfect the spot seemed for a romantic picnic – it was intimate, not isolated.
“She’s set up just in there,” her brother was saying, the two of them having made idle small talk on their way over. He paused just short of the trees, gesturing vaguely at the easiest route inside. They could kind of see a patterned picnic blanket through the leaves and branches, but hesitated anyway – that stupid alarm bell was still going off in the back of their mind. They wished it would go away. It was probably just nerves! This was it, this was the real first date, and the butterflies in their stomach were just from anxiety, not an awful gut feeling. They should stop assuming the worst of people all the time.
“Thank you,” they said instead, giving him their best smile back. “Are you, uh…”
“I’m just gonna say goodbye to her before I leave. I’m not staying, don’t worry,” he teased, holding a branch out of the way and motioning for them to hurry up. That wasn’t what they were going to ask, but whatever. He probably had places to be. Before they could let themselves chicken out for good, they ducked under his arm and pushed their way inside. Deep breaths. Stay calm.
It was a lot darker in there than they thought it would be, with the sun now so low in the sky. Once they were clear of the first layer of branches, they had just enough light and time to process that there were three figures stood around the picnic blanket instead of one, before a large pink hand grabbed their face from behind and dragged them to the side.
He covered their mouth and their nose to keep them quiet as they cried out in surprise, and a split second later a sharp pain stabbed them in the side of their neck. He shushed them, easing them onto their knees as their body weakened but grabbed a fistful of their hair to force them when they resisted. Still, Xen kept trying to wriggle free – they needed to run, they should have already run, they should never have come at all - but they were losing feeling in both their arms and legs too quickly, and their vision turned spotty and dark. They couldn’t see. They couldn’t breathe. His hand clamped down even tighter over their nose as the three strangers closed in on them, securing their wrists and ankles with zipties whilst they were too scared and disorientated to fight back.
They could just about feel a warm, wet mouth bite down on the inside of their wrist before it went fully numb. A scream bubbled up their throat but died as quickly as it began, muffled by the hand and choked by tears. “O positive,” a voice said distantly.
With everything now in total darkness and their body useless, the last thing they felt before they went under was the sting of a second syringe.
˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖
Maybe it had all been just a dream – a horrible stress nightmare before their first date. That was more likely.
Things like this just didn’t happen to people like them.
Xen’s mind was too cloudy still to think clearly, but they often felt like this when waking up in the morning. It wasn’t unusual for them to drift in and out of a hazy dreamland. No amount of convincing themselves otherwise would change the truth.
Their body hurt. When they tried to open their eyes, they still couldn’t see; they tried to sit upright, but their arms and wrists were bound tightly to their sides with what felt like packing tape. They were hot and clammy, their skin sweating profusely - but even if their legs hadn’t similarly been bound together, there were no blankets for them to kick off the bed. They were not at home. This was not a dream.
Strong hands rolled them over and over on whatever surface they were laid on, rolling them up in some kind of plastic; it took them a moment to place it before they groggily realised it was bubblewrap. They tried to open their mouth to speak, to ask what was going on, to beg for help or freedom or even just to cry out - but it was taped shut and stuffed with cloth. As soon as they realised, panic finally hit them like a tidal wave and they began hyperventilate.
They were drugged.
They were bound.
They couldn’t breathe.
˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖
The next time they came round, they no longer had any hope of it being just a bad dream. The sensations were far too real: the tight blindfold of bubblewrap and packing tape around their face, the rumbling of large wheels over old tarmac, the musty smell of sweat and plastic and piss – they were still groggy, but it was visceral. They fought hard not to panic again. Their mouth was still taped shut, breathing calmly and through their nose was their only option. Freaking out would only make it worse.
Despite being blindfolded, their head was still spinning. Every bump and pothole sent spasms of pain up their spine until they couldn’t figure out which way was up and which was down, and when the vehicle swerved around corners they slid around like loose baggage. Sometimes they hit things that were soft, sometimes they hit against the wall. They tested their ability to move, hoping they may be able to brace themselves at least a little bit when the next slam came; but although the paralytic Salia’s brother had given them had now worn off, they were bound far too tightly to do much more than twitch their fingers and toes.
Salia’s brother…
Tears welled up behind the blindfold. How could they have been so stupid?
After what could have been hours, the vehicle finally turned for the last time before slowing right down to a crawl. After a brief stop and a pause, it then slowly began to reverse - if the muffled beeping was anything to go by. It was parking. They had arrived. This was it.
The engine was turned off, leaving everything eerily still and quiet until Xen heard the unmistakable sound of the rear doors being unlocked. Light just about hit their eyes through the plastic and tape as they swung open and a blurred figure climbed inside; they quickly squeezed them shut again, their breathing picking up and their body starting to shake in its wrapping. The newcomer didn’t notice. They likely didn’t even care. They began to unload the back of the van, calling over other people from outside to help them get everything done faster.
“Brace yourself, this one’s heavy.”
“Okay, take it through – yeah, through those doors there.”
“This one’s a wriggler, make sure you get a good grip on it and don’t let go.”
The voices were barely audible through all the layers of plastic around them, but before Xen could process what they were saying there was a grunt and a heavy thud, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Someone berated someone else for potentially damaging a product, another person yelled for them to stop talking and keep working, but despite the noise all Xen could focus on were the soft groans and whimpers coming from the dropped body.
They were not alone.
They were not alone.
It was an awful comfort, knowing that someone else was going through this hell with them. Were there a dozen others? Were there more? They had no way of knowing.
The footsteps came closer again. They shouted out around the gag the best they could whilst someone grabbed their legs, quickly slinging them over their shoulder like they were no more than a sack of potatoes. Struggling had no effect either, so they tried screaming again - but with the fabric stuffed into their mouth they may as well have kept silent. It didn’t matter. Nobody was listening anyway.
They were carried unceremoniously into the building that contained their fate, only aware they had crossed a threshold when they heard another door open and close. It was impossible for them to tell how much time had passed since that stupid date – it was light out, so it was probably the following day but with the amount of drugs in their system it could just as easily have been a week. Their mouth was dry enough that they weren’t able to drool on the gag anymore, and the hollowness in their stomach could easily have been from fear instead of hunger. It was only as they became properly coherent and awake that they realised – in abject horror - that their lower half was sticky and damp and disgusting.
Everything was still contained within their clothes and the bubblewrap, but now they were aware of it, the smell hit them like a sledgehammer. So, it had clearly been long enough that at some point they had emptied themselves. Whilst unconscious. They must have been in that van for days – unless the drugs had something to do with it, of course, which was still very much possible. If any part of them had previously had the strength left to feel hungry, it was definitely wiped out now.
Xen had no idea when they had last been given cocktails of drugs, but it was clear nobody had bothered to administer more for a while now. The further inside the building they got, the more awake they felt, and the faster their terror was catching up with them. They wished someone would stab them in the neck again. If they had been allowed to stay unconscious, then they wouldn’t have to know what was happening to them - they wouldn’t feel any of that anxiety or fear, they could just slip away into the light when their time came. As long as they were awake and sober, they would be forced to actually experience everything. They would be forced to feel.
The person carrying them tossed them onto a table with a thud. Xen groaned as they were rolled onto their stomach; though winded, the bubblewrap had actually protected them a bit from the force of the impact - just not the shock of it. A hand then pushed down onto the back of their head, holding them firmly in place – instinct took over, and they thrashed around in a desperate attempt to wriggle free. Despite their best efforts and garbled pleas, a small blade was pushed into the bubblewrap at the top of their neck, and the stranger slowly dragged it down length of their spine. Curiously, though, they made sure to only cut the wrapping and tape. Xen wasn’t so much as nicked, they realised -
They were being opened like a fucking parcel.
Their efforts to escape didn’t earn them so much as a reprimand. They writhed around the best they could, but with their arms and legs bound so tightly together, they felt like a worm trying to crawl from a bird. They probably wouldn’t ever be thought of as anything more, now.
The stranger continued to remove the rest of the bubblewrap, turning them over and cutting away as needed then discarding the scraps in a nearby bin. The tape around their limbs was unfortunately left intact, but at least they could feel air on their skin again. The last of the packaging to be removed was, of course, the plastic over their head. It was a miracle they had still been breathing at all – despite all the disgusting smells, they couldn’t help but to inhale deeply as soon as their face was free. It only burned a little.
Xen blinked up at the person – a werewolf, they realised - that was handling them. Their eyes were still blurred with tears, but they wanted to at least put a face to whoever was deciding their fate. As he worked, he looked at them with such indifference that Xen had no doubt he’d done this hundreds of times before and not once recognised the horror of it. They expected him to be ugly, maybe; ugly and cruel and haggard, like a true cartoon villain, but he was just some guy. Someone they might have passed on the street a thousand times without a second glance.
Now that they weren’t blindfolded by tape, they could see they were definitely in a warehouse or processing facility of some kind. The footsteps of workers echoed on the metal floor, conversations and screams alike bouncing off walls and high ceilings until they all muddled together in wall of noise. Was that good or bad? This wasn’t some small-scale, underground trafficking ring – this was planned. Industrial. Organised.
He left them laying on the table for a moment, stepping aside to retrieve something from a tower of metal drawers nearby. They couldn’t see what was in his hand, and he turned them back onto their stomach before they could get a better look. He brushed away the hair at the back of their neck, forced them still again with one hand firmly on the back of their head, and pressed whatever he was holding just below their hairline. At first it felt cold against their skin – like a smooth pebble, barely an inch wide, being rocked from side to side. They realise as it grows impossibly hot that it is not a stone. It’s a brand.
The fire consumes their entire body, and burns all rational thought away.
The pain spreads down their back from where it touches their neck, white-hot and brutal, burning some kind of arcane symbol or crest or number into their flesh. They think they might be trying to scream through the gag, but they can’t quite tell. Their throat is sore, and they think they might puke, but can’t hear anything over the ringing in their ears. They writhe as much as they possibly can against the hands and the tape and the stone. It doesn’t help.
Another atrocious smell joins the assault on their senses. Their skin was melting, confirming to the shape of the brand, and when the werewolf finally pulls it away it sticks to it like melted plastic. They’re dimly aware that if they do throw up, as much as they want to, they’ll choke. This can’t be how it ends, drowning on their own vomit, right? It just can’t. Their future had always seemed fairly bleak, but not this bleak.
In a moment of weakness (albeit not the first, and definitely not the last), Xen thinks of Salia. Their virtual conversations had been so sweet and hopeful – they hadn’t quite dared to think it through, but if they’d worked out, maybe they’d have been able to move out of their Dad’s place and make a real life for themself. She had been Xen’s chance at a good life, and a future so good is impossible now. For a moment, they selfishly wish that Salia was there with them, even if she couldn’t help – but that’s when it finally sinks in.
Of course she isn’t here. She never existed in the first place.
Shame and humiliation burn their cheeks as they realise how badly they were fooled. It made so much more sense now, all of this did – they were so stupid. How hopeless and desperate must they be, not just to still wish a figment of their imagination was there to help them, but to have believed anyone would want to be their friend in the first place?
Tears drip down Xen’s cheeks again, hot and wet and salty. They may be stupid, they may be disorientated and confused but they still know what this place means for them. Whether it happens now, suffocating on their own puke, or in a few hours or days (or weeks, or months, or years), when a monster drains them of all their blood, they are going to die. They are going to die unloved. Unremembered. Unimportant.
They stop struggling. It’s probably better to just accept their fate, isn’t it? Rather than make the inevitable more painful. They are going to die either way.
“Where’s this one going?” A bored voice cuts through their thoughts. The werewolf picks them back up, slinging them over his shoulder like they’re nothing. “Butchers? It’s got enough meat on it.”
“No. Brandeschi’s placed an advanced order for a couple dozen, he’s sending a rep over to pick some out. Take it to Prim to get it cleaned up and sorted out. They’re not gonna buy one that smells this bad.”
Although that name means nothing to them, it still sends shivers downs Xen’s spine. Best case scenario, they would be put to work – used for their free labour on a farm or in a factory. Worst case scenario is pretty much everything else. They could end up a in a brothel, as breeding stock, as blood or meat or spare parts – they’d heard stories, read news reports about what humans were allegedly forced to do in North Irades, and now they were going to find if it was all true.
They hope they’ll be killed quickly, rather than drawn out over weeks or months. Keeping them alive only to be fed from was a pathetic existence – an electric shock and a slit throat would be a kinder death than being hooked up to a machine and slowly farmed for their blood until their body eventually gave out. Unfortunately, it’s not like they have a choice in the matter.
The werewolf carries them away, past more tables with more humans being unpackaged and branded, and down a stretch of corridor. Under the sounds of muffled screaming, they can hear people begging, too – some furious and fighting, others desperate and wailing, all of them terrified. Xen understands every last word they say, but it’s like they’re all speaking a different language. The monsters here just do not care.
Monsters.
That term has never felt more literal.
#whump#fantasy whump#whump writing#whumblr#xen#original fiction#chapter 2#tw dehumanisation#tw bbu#I can't decide if this chapter is super long or just normal haha#please let me know if you've read it I would LOVE to hear your thoughts!!
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:0
Such a tiny baby shinx! You'd be perfect for the contest circuit!
.... Not a baby. And contests are loud.
#tw dehumanisation#irl pkmn#irl pokemon#pkmn irl#pokeblogging#pokemon irl#rotomblr#pokeblog rp#eebydeeby irl
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Ok but seeing just how isolated and brainwashed Hunter is in “Any Sport in a Storm” is genuinely heartbreaking. He’s been basically stuck inside the Emperor’s Coven since such a young age that he’s never had any interaction with anyone even close to his age, and he’s got no one even close to a friend or really even an acquaintance. He’s basically entirely reliant on Belos for any sort of emotional connection to anyone, and even that’s treated like a reward for good behaviour. No wonder he’s so devoted to his uncle, despite his emotional and physical abuse- he’s never had anything else. He has no way of knowing that’s not normal. He has no way of knowing that being worked to the bone, being put into life threatening and traumatic experiences since he was a child, being completely alone, being hurt and isolated and threatened by someone who should protect and love him, that any of that isn’t what everyone goes through. He has no way of knowing that being treated like a valuable asset and not a person isn’t love. This poor fucking kid.
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Some cat ‘mons have little claw coverings?
They only go over the nail, they’re easy to take off, and they don’t hurt at all
I’m not
I’m not a cat mon I’m a person
I don’t need- claw coverings I’m a person
I just need to learn claw control I just
Just need to learn claw control
It’s fine
#pokeblogging#rotomblr#pkmn irl#pokemon irl#irl pokemon#irl pkmn#pokeblr#anon ask#tw dehumanisation#//just in case#kiwi brain|leafeon tag
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C!Dream holding c!Tommy in exile while he cries and petting his hair like some sort of dog:3 (is being possessed)
GRRRRR YESYESYES :) :) :) Extreme dehumanisation in exile my absolute beloved <3
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🕯️
@castelias-cat-queen
// :))))
[I need to stop her- no not important, not important, not.... A hero, I'm not a hero.... guard. Cannot let her hurt CD again - I will protect him. She's not relevant, she's not important. Nothing matters aside from him... what is going on? I need to stop her! I can't. Sick. Not human. Guard. Not. Important.]
#tw dehumanisation#tw repeating text#//as the arc goes on their thoughts are going to make less and less sense#irl pkmn#pokemon#pokemon roleplay#pokereality#pokeblog rp#joltik guy#pkmn rp#irl pokemon#rotumblr#pokemon unreality#the nuystia project
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#my art#unreality#tw unreality#dehumanization#tw dehumanizations#dehumanisation#tw dehumanisation#religious themes#tw religious themes#tw religious horror#religious horror#scopophobia#tw scopophobia
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an overwelming majority of women that commit crimes are cis, that should explain my views on cis "people".
#assigned gender#nobody is actually cis#they're just pretending in order to get access to their bathrooms.#tw terf#trans#tw dehumanisation#terf#radfem#ender's otherworldy whispers
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