#tw: dehumanisation

[ashdoeswhump]

Tws: dehumanisation, conditioning, abuse, intimate whumper, pet whump, basically just all the whumpy stuff that comes with pet whump and nonhuman whumpees

Animalistic and nonhuman whumpees hit just right.

Nonhuman whumpee with claws and fangs and wings and horns and fur. Does whumper tear these off? Use them to pin whumpee down? Slide a knife along them, not hard enough to pierce, but enough to draw blood, enough to hurt? Put them on display for their friends? Does caretaker know how to look after their nonhuman traits? Are they gentle, so gentle, with them? Do these things get in caretaker's way so they keep accidentally knocking it? Does caretaker preen whumpee's wings, polish their horns, trim their claws when they're too weak to do it themselves?

Werewolf whumpee who looks perfectly human most of the time, but who are constantly punished for the one night they don't. Does whumper keep them on a chain? Treat them like a dog? Make them sleep outside and eat out of a bowl without their hands? Keep them surrounded by silver at all times? How does caretaker deal with it? Do they find a way to keep whumpee calm during full moons? Are they forced to keep whumpee locked up every month for everyone's safety, whumpee's included? Do they give whumpee a blanket and a hug and some hot chocolate afterwards?

Avian whumpee who struggles with speech but can make other noises just fine. Do they squawk when whumper hurts them? Does whumper force them to sing? Feed them nothing but seeds and nuts? Keep them locked in a hanging cage? Keep them outside but chained down so they can't fly away? Does caretaker build them a nest out of blankets and pillows? Let them out whenever they want? Encourage them to fly, only for them to fall back to the ground and hurt themself because they haven't flown in so long? Bandage and heal their battered and broken wings?

What about whumpees who aren't nonhuman, but have had their humanity stripped away?

Guard dog whumpee forced to stay outside. Does whumper make them pace around the perimeter of their property all day and night without breaks? Punish them when they pause for even a second? Only let them sleep once or twice a week because when they're asleep, the place is undefended? Does caretaker have to train this out of them because the only way to remove this conditioning is more conditioning? Do they help whumpee rest? Are they so, so relieved when whumpee goes to sleep by themself for the first time?

Lapdog whumpee who's made to cuddle with whumper. Does whumper make them sleep in their bed? Have them curl up on their lap while watching TV or reading a book? Comfort them after or during punishment? Does caretaker have to learn what sorts of touch whumpee can and can't endure? Do they have to sedate whumpee anytime they need to carry them somewhere because they're too weak to walk by themself but starts shoving any time they're touched? Is it an upwards battle, getting whumpee to associate touch with genuine care? Or is whumpee so relieved to be out, or so conditioned, that they'd do anything caretaker asks without question or complaint? How long does it take caretaker to realise this isn't them healing, but the conditioning going on?

Living weapon whumpee who isn't allowed thoughts or morals, only obedience? Does whumper force them to kill people they know during training? Keep them muzzled and hooded to hide their identity? Punish them when their face shows what they're thinking or feeling? Is caretaker afraid or horrified or disgusted of them at first? Do they have to teach whumpee that they're a person and that they're their own person? Do they have to keep weapons away from them because whumpee will think caretaker wants them to kill someone?

What noises do they make? Do they hiss or snarl when they're scared? Let out a barking yelp or a squawk when they're hurt? Whimper or whine when they're nervous? Purr when they're happy? How much of this is taught and conditioned into them, and how much is natural? Are they afraid of making human noises, or do they wish more than anything that they could speak?

There's just so many possibilities with this trope, I love it.

[lore-dumping-blog]

I made the Artful Agony AU where Illusion/Reality escaped Minecraft after going to Hypixel and began to deteriorate. His entire perception of existence was shattered, and he saw Sabre as who he was behind the screen. They grabbed onto the first thing they could find, which ended up being a Google Chrome web browser with KidPix up. Their code fused with what they grabbed, and with just barely enough power, they escaped back into their Minecraft World. His appearance back in Minecraft was corrupted and distorted, along with his mind being almost entirely fractured.

my poor lil lad...

[weird-xie-liankovic]

ep # 178 The Processing Line - ooh boy. This was SUCH a clever twist on the Flesh fear, and - ooh boy. As Jared Hopworth would have said, I felt it in my bones. This is absolutely what my fucking Soviet childhood felt like. Always standing in line for something gruesome, absolutely powerless, having nowhere to run and not even contemplating that running/saying no is a possibility. I'll take a wild stab in the dark and guess it was not the only society that treated children like that, and it also suddenly occurred to me that it's not a coincidence. So that when an adult is needed to step into the dehumanizing machine and stay obedient while being properly processed, they switch to a powerless terrified child mode naturally.

[just-horrible-things]

(Content warning: box boys, mental health - implied.)

The Babe is sitting on the steps at the front of some apartment building. Her hands are tucked into the front pocket of her hoody. Her head is resting gently against the railing beside her. Her eyes are numb and hollow.

He doesn’t see the collar round her neck until after he’s sat down at the other side of the steps. It’s a small surprise. But it doesn’t change the kinship he feels.

There’s not much to look at. He joins her in staring at nothing, distantly aware of the dim cloud reflections in the windows of the building opposite.

“What’s eating you?” she asks after a time. “Just killing time,” he says. Then, a minute later, “I don’t want to go home.” She makes a small noise of acknowledgement. 

They sit in silence a while longer.

“I don’t know if my owner’s still out,” she says unprompted, “Or if he’s gone to sleep up there.” “That’s rough.” She sighs. “I’ll be fine.”

The air is still and chilly. The light is grey.

“Is it true,” he asks, “That they make you forget everything?” “Yup,” she says. He thinks. “You don’t remember anything at all?” “Not a thing.” He nods, even though he can tell that she’s not looking at him.

The ghost of a breeze stirs a stray page of newspaper, then dies again. He thinks she’s said everything she’s going to on the topic.

But then, “I remember a bit of my training,” she confesses. “It’s pretty rough. Then I woke up in my box, and ta-da.” “You don’t remember why you signed up?” “Nope. Not a clue.” He nods slowly again.

“What’s it like?” “What’s what like?” He tips his head back and looks up at the narrow strip of cloudy sky visible between the buildings. “Your life, I guess. Being a Box Babe.” “Boring,” she says indifferently. He thinks her shoulders move in a shrug, but he’s not sure. “You don’t hate it?” She hesitates. Glances at him for the first time. “I don’t hate it,” she agrees.

He sighs and puts his head down on his arms where they rest folded on top of his knees. Face turned away from her, studying the railing and the concrete behind it.

Boring.

I could live with boring.

The light fades slowly. The street lamps flicker into life, one after another. The closest one makes a low whine for a while, then it stops. The air gets cold, and he comes up in goosebumps. The Box Babe shifts and he glances her way, but she’s only putting the hood up on her hoodie, and he looks away again.

“Thanks,” she says eventually. He makes an inquiring sound that isn’t quite a word. “For the company.” ”Oh. You too.” He looks at her for the first time since he first saw her on the steps. Her head is up now, but her eyes are fixed on the road. On a tousled-looking man in business casual, approaching with the jingle of keys in his hand.

He puts his head back down, and neither the Babe nor her owner acknowledge him again. She follows the man up the steps to the door, and they disappear into the apartment building.

He stays put until the sky is long dark and he is shivering in his shirt sleeves. Then he supposes he’d better go home. With any luck, no one is awake any more.

[prettybirdy979]

Whumptober Day Nine: Shackled

I’m writing a prompt a day for October from this list. I wrote the start of this in Luna Park while listening to Wicked - can you tell? Still with Good Omens... still some things I’ve not done to them yet.

No good deed goes unpunished. 

Seth never really got the point of that saying. Is it a warning? Don't be good or you'll be punished! Or is a promise? Don't do good or you'll live to regret it. Or maybe the angry cry of the people who do good and don't get what they deserve.

Looking at the being hanging from the ceiling, held up only by the shackles around his wrists Seth can really appreciate that final interpretation. The poor bastard had only come into the place because of Tom's kid screaming (a sound that made Seth want to scream himself because Sally didn't deserve any of this either and if he could just take her and stay gone he'd go and never look back) and look at him now. If he'd been human his shoulders would be dislocated or broken or something and there's a steady drip of blood from his wrists.

Poor creature.

The door behind Seth opens and Tom enters, followed by the lines and lines of Seth's bloody faithful. Those daft enough to believe that just because this poor creature isn't human it means he deserves all this. Seth knows what Tom has in store for him and God, if he were human Seth wouldn't stand for it.

‘My friends! We have a monster in our midst! A creature that masquerades as human and pretends at kindness! I first saw it in a bookshop pretending at-’

Seth tunes out, looking around aimlessly. Absently he runs his eyes over Tom's group of mindless minions.

And freezes when the meets the bright too blue eyes of a stranger.

For a long moment he can’t look away, spellbound by eyes that cannot be human. Then the creature blinks and goes back to staring at the poor thing hanging from Tom’s ceiling.

Seth looks back at him too, just in time to see a flash of terror - the first he’s seen - race across the creature’s face. It only lasts a moment but long enough for Seth to follow his yellow eyed glaze to-

The stranger. This poor thing has been whipped and beatened and tortured and he’s worried about the stranger in the midst of maniacs.

He must not be a stranger then, Seth thinks and then bites his lip to stop his mouth opening. For a moment he considers speaking then his eyes land on Tom.

No.

No, Seth won’t interfere. Let Tom reap what he’s sown and maybe an ally is what this poor creature needs to get out of this.

Maybe this stranger can do what Seth can’t.

‘-for we will have defeated our first foe on the way to cleansing this Earth of filth!’

Tom’s lecture breaks into his thoughts and Seth finally looks at his... his Tom. 

‘What filth?’ Someone asks in an accent so proper Seth feels a little like he’s been called out by a school teacher. His eyes fall on the stranger immediately and yes, he’s the one who spoke.

‘You have a question?’ Tom asks in the tone of someone who does not actually expect an answer.

‘Yes,’ says the stranger and he steps forward as others shift away from him. ‘What filth are you cleansing the Earth of?’

‘This!’ Tom cries and gestures towards the shackled man. ‘This creature that dares lives amongst us like it has a right to-’

‘He’s been here longer than you, I dare say he has more rights than you do to be here,’ the stranger snaps and shakes his head. ‘Oh bugger this.’

He clicks his fingers and everyone in the room freezes. 

Seth included. He can feel his heart pounding and tiny sips of air slipping out of his mouth but that’s it. He can’t move anything else. 

The stranger steps into the circle, the one Tom swore that no being of Hell could cross, and rubs at one of the lines.

It breaks with a flash of light and the creature’s shackles vanish in the next moment. He falls onto the stranger with a loud huff, blinking his yellow eyes as his friend runs careful fingers over his wrists.

‘Oh my dear,’ the stranger says, then turns to look at everyone he froze.

Seth wants to tremble in fear, wants to scream and never stop, at the look on the stranger’s face. 

It’s terrible and all Seth can feel is a deep and dark acceptance. He’s going to die here.

‘That one,’ the creature whispers, pointing a bloody hand at-

At Seth. 

‘That one?’

‘He was kinder than the rest,’ the creature says and sudddenly Seth can breathe properly, wheezing as he collapses to the ground. ‘Cared more about the girl that screamed than the rest of them.’

The stranger Looks at Seth, a long moment of endless agony as he stares into the stranger’s too blue eyes. 

‘Take her and go,’ the stranger says and Seth is scrambling to his feet before he can ever register moving. ‘Don’t look back.’

Seth doesn’t, even when the screams start. Instead he takes Sally and runs, runs as far away as he can get from the stranger and his creature.

Maybe that way he’ll be safe.

[comm-services]

What Evren Saw When He Was Unconscious:

- TWs in tags -

The door opened and Alyzia walked in, hiding something behind her back.

“Evren? I have a present for you- where are you?”

No response.

“Oh come on little Aztal,” She chuckled, “I’m not gonna hurt you. Youve done so well in training, i decided its time for your first shift and we need to get you ready- isn’t that exciting?”

“N-no Ms Alyzia..”

“Oh under the desk are we?”

She dragged xem out from under the desk by his handcuffs, pulling him to his feet.

“Stay still and stay silent.”

“Yes Ms-“

She presses a finger to her lips, “Shhhh, be smart about this.”

Quinn falls silent, staying still as still as he could while something was buckled around his throat- making xeir breathing difficult and laboured.

“Good boy!- youre such a good boy Quinn!”

Alyzia ruffles his hair as she connects a chain to the collar around xeir neck, speaking in a patronising, sing-song voice. Shame rises in xeir face- why did that feel good- being called good shouldnt make xem feel good- why-

She tugs on the chain, making him follow her out of his office, “Come on boy- come on, let’s go- we have a meeting for you to go to.”

[jeanmoreaun]

friendly psa that making sexual orientations or gender identities into nouns is dehumanising to the extreme and very triggering

ie "an aromantic asexual" "a queer"