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#dehumanization
maigraybill · 1 day
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acepumpkinpatrick · 21 days
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It took a white man burning himself, for the media to tell the truth.
It took 7 white people to be killed for the UNHRC to pass a resolution to ban selling arms to Israel.
The level, to which this world has dehumanized us, is incomprehensible to me.
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theminecraftbee · 2 months
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The thing in her cargo hold is looking at her again.
Really, Gem should have sold it by now. If the fishmonger had refused to take it--and really, it seems unlikely, Gem thinks, that the fishmonger would refuse to take it; he has taken and carved up and made meals of far stranger fish than one with a human face and hands and torso--she could have easily sold it to the man on the train, who takes exotic catches for his zoo. She could have even taken it to Grian; it's not a mending book, but it's the sort of thing he'd like to make fun of her for catching, instead of anything she's after.
Really, she should have. The longer she keeps the thing in her cargo hold, the more it starts to look properly human to her. She should know better. She has caught far stranger fish, and none of them have been human. It's another trick these seas have been playing on her, she thinks.
Long nights alone do that to a woman.
She ignores it. Instead, she opens the lid of the tank and starts depositing salmon. "It's a really weird request, that I keep them alive the whole time. You won't eat them, right?" Gem says, knowing the thing in her cargo hold can't answer. "Because if you eat them, this time, I really am going to sell you to the fishmonger. Or maybe I can figure out how to get fillets from you on my own? I've certainly eaten weirder fish..."
The thing in the cargo hold continues to stare. It has eyes that look like little moons, and brown hair, and it is smiling for some reason. Gem huffs.
"Don't give me that look! You are a fish. I am a fisherman. If mere human faces stopped me from doing my job, I would have gone mad a long time ago."
The thing in the cargo hold smiles wider. The lights flicker. Gem rolls her eyes and finishes putting salmon in the tank. As though to spite her, the thing in the cargo hold immediately lashes out, grabbing one in the claws on her otherwise-human hands and then tearing it apart with razor-sharp teeth. Blood rises on the water. Gem sighs.
"I have a harpoon in here somewhere, or at least a very sharp knife," she says to herself. She doesn't really want to use her nice knife, the one she always keeps on her belt, but she ought to have another knife around with which she can finish the job, right?
The lights flicker and go out. When she looks across at the tank, there are two silvery-moon eyes looking at her.
Gem pulls a wire. Gem turns the lights back on. She takes a deep breath.
"I really should have sold you by now, really. If the fishmonger won't take you, then the zookeeper would love you," Gem says.
The radio crackles. Gem startles. Very, very few people ever contact her on the shipboard radio, but if she's getting a signal, that's more important than a grudge match with a fish. She heads over to answer the call.
An amalgamation of voices responds:
YOU ARE FUNNY. I HAVE A MESSAGE. A DELIVERY. YOU'VE TRAPPED ME THOUGH.
Slowly, Gem turns around to the thing in the cargo hold.
"This won't stop me from treating you like a fish," she says. "If messages from the ocean stopped me--"
A terrible, crackling laugh sounds from the radio.
I AM THE MOON'S PEARL. YOU WILL NOT HOLD ME FOREVER. WE WILL SEE WHO EATS WHO.
Gem wags her finger. "We'll see, for sure, as long as you don't eat my salmon. That man in the fish-scaled suit was VERY insistent, you know."
TELL ME MORE.
"You're tying up my radio. What if there's another ship? What if there's something important?"
OH GEM. YOU KNOW THERE WON'T BE.
Gem swallows.
The thing in the cargo hold is staring at her.
"I need to sleep. I need to go to shore," she says.
YOU WON'T, the radio says.
She won't.
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Zionist settler terrorist brags about killing Palestinian kids in Ghazzah in the face of a Palestinian man. Video posted on March 5th 2024.
instagram
Remember that there's another land theft sale event tomorrow in Toronto, and this dude will likely be there threatening more Palestinians. Be ready to mobilize against it.
Edit: there is a counterprotest.
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oliversrarebooks · 3 months
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chemical imbalance
You know that trope where horrifying things are treated as mundane? You know that trope where the whumper is talking around the whumpee like they aren't even a person? This is that story.
TW: alien abduction, alien parasites, body horror, brainwashing, mind control, restraints, tentacles, forced drugging, forced medical examination, complete dehumanization, condescension, defiant whumpee
The receptionist was young and lovely, their skin a fetching shade of blue-purple, and their human host was healthy and smiling, with the dazed, glassy expression that indicated it was well taken care of.
5X2 couldn't help the wave of intense jealousy. Their own human host's gut churned in panic. It was lucid enough to know it was being brought to the doctor, and didn't like the idea at all, stress hormones flooding its fragile body. 5X2 pumped out chemicals to soothe it, beamed calming imagery into its mind, even tried to reassure it through its psychic connection that it was just the doctor, the doctor was going to help it, and hopefully they'd both be feeling better. 
All of their efforts only put the smallest dent in the distress their host was feeling. Well, no wonder -- 5X2 couldn't even remember the last time their poor host had properly slept. They took a deep breath, reassuring their human host that they weren't angry at it, not at all. They loved their host and knew it wasn't its fault it was struggling so hard. The host thrashed mentally, adrenaline rising, coming dangerously close to waking fully as 5X2 wrangled its consciousness back under control.
"I'm 5X2-YLL, and I'm here for my 3100 appointment," they said to the receptionist, hoping they couldn't tell how much trouble they were having with their human.
Sympathetic waves rolled from the receptionist as they looked 5X2 up and down. Oh, they could tell. 5X2 knew their human looked an absolute mess, with a wild expression, deep bags under its eyes, and poor hygiene. The past few days, 5X2 had even taken sick leave from work, embarrassed to go out in public in this state -- that's how they knew they had no choice but to make a doctor's appointment.
"Right this way, 5X2. The doctor is running a bit behind, but if you'll just go into this examination room, they'll be with you shortly. Please have your host change into this medical gown... if you're able."
"Yes, thank you." The door clicked shut behind the receptionist as 5X2 looked around the small examination room. It looked like any other doctor's office, but they couldn't help but notice that the examination chair had formidable looking restraints on it. They supposed it was to be expected for a doctor who specialized in disorders of host control.
The far too lucid human noticed too, and all of its muscles tensed as it signaled to every corner of its body to escape, escape, escape. 5X2 had no choice but to inject yet another low dose of paralytics into its bloodstream, just to make sure it couldn't actually act on that misguided impulse. 
The paralytics kept the human from moving, but also meant that 5X2 had to do much more manual work puppeting its body, and they were so, so tired. With their host's clumsy fingers, they pulled off their shoes, shirt, and pants, and slipped on the flimsy medical gown. The human was expressing distress at having their physical form exposed, of all the ridiculous things. Sometimes 5X2 wished that its constant fears at least made sense. Instead, it was scared of the doctor, of being nude, even of the everyday, ordinary sight of other human hosts with their passengers atop their heads, tentacles nestled neatly in their ears and euphoric expressions on their faces.
I'm trying to help you, 5X2 conveyed through their psychic connection for what seemed like the billionth time this cycle.
All they got back in return was terror, anger, and the intense desire to go home.
We can go home after the appointment, 5X2 reminded it, beaming soothing images of their quarters, the cheery artificial sun lamp, their collection of exotic plants, their vibrant fiber arts, the beautiful view of stars from out of their window. Their host had always been calmed by these things in better days, but it wasn't working now. It didn't make any sense to 5X2 -- if it wanted to go home so badly, why didn't it respond to sensory landscapes of home? 
Surely it wasn't lucid enough to desire its human habitat...? The human habitat was a death world compared to the safety and comfort of the space station.
There was a knock on the door, and the doctor walked into the room. They carried an air of authority about them, perched on top of a petite human who moved with unusual grace. "Hello, 5X2," said the doctor in a kindly voice. "I understand you're here because you're having difficulty in controlling your human host. Is that correct?"
5X2 looked anywhere but at the doctor, pretending to be very interested in a cabinet full of jars of multi-colored fluids. "Ah, yes, that's correct."
"There's no need to be ashamed. There's a lot of unfair stigma attached to host difficulties, but I assure you that it's a far more common problem than you think. There's no judgement here. Please, tell me about what you've been experiencing."
"My human host is almost completely lucid for most of the cycle," 5X2 confessed, trying to suppress their waves of shame and sadness. "I can't keep it fully entranced, I can't soothe it, I can't even put it to sleep. It's constantly scared and stressed and won't stop filling its body with adrenaline."
"I see."
"I have to spend so much of my energy just keeping it from fully waking, and it's affecting my work and my social life. I can't even relax on my days off, because every time I let my guard down, it decides it's a good time to fight me," they said. "I love my host, but I'm at my limit. I can't go on like this. It's sick all of the time from stress hormones, and I'm constantly fatigued. If there's anything you can do, anything at all that would help..."
The doctor's host nodded sagely. "There's a number of common conditions that could cause symptoms like you're describing. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a blood sample from your host so we can run some lab tests while conducting the examination."
"Of course," said 5X2, holding out their host's arm while the doctor prepared a needle for the blood draw. As the needle grazed the host's skin, the human managed to wrest enough control to jerk backwards, irrationally panicked at the sight of the needle. "I'm so sorry. It's been especially determined to fight me on everything today."
"It's nothing to worry about. I see it all the time. Hosts can be smarter than we give them credit for -- it's probably realized that the doctor's appointment is for putting it back under."
"But why does it fight that? That doesn't make any sense -- doesn't it want to be calm and happy? Why would it want to be stressed and miserable?"
"Oh, it's not that it wants to be stressed and miserable. It's just the natural state of hosts that aren't fully entranced. It's not its fault that it's acting this way -- it just doesn't know any better," said the doctor. "To make the examination easier, it might be best if we strapped your host into the chair, if you don't mind the restricted mobility."
"Not at all. It'd be a relief to not have to suppress their impulses," said 5X2. Their human predictably howled with displeasure, scraping and clawing for any bit of control over its limbs as 5X2 fought its body into the chair and tried to hold it still as the doctor restrained it. It was even managing to resist the paralytics, utterly desperate to escape.
If this doctor couldn't help them, 5X2 was going to lose their mind.
With the host's body securely restrained, the doctor was finally able to take a blood sample. The human's consciousness was thrashing like a wounded dust-moth, but with their body secured, 5X2 could devote their whole efforts to dampening their mental distress.
"If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll bring this to the lab. We should get results in around ten deciclicks."
5X2 tried to relax in the chair as the doctor left the room, but of course their exhausting host was having none of it.
Why are you fighting so hard? they asked.
The answer was always the same.
I want to go home. I don't want to be a host. I don't want to be hypnotized again. Please let me go.
Incoherent nonsense. The poor, confused thing.
"All right, that's taken care of," said the doctor, entering the room and perching on a nearby stool. "Now, may I ask you some questions? How long have you been noticing these symptoms?"
"About a quarter star turn."
"I see. And have you previously sought help for them?"
"...No. I really should have, before it got to this point, but I was ashamed. I thought it was temporary, and that I could fix my host myself."
"At least you're here now. You're doing the right thing," said the doctor encouragingly. "How often does the human sleep?"
"Only once every few cycles, and for only a few clicks at a time. I can't keep it to anything resembling a schedule, either, and it doesn't seem to respond to sedation at all. The only mercy is that it often sleeps while I'm at work."
"And how do you normally soothe it?"
"I think I've tried just about everything. Before this all started, it was so easy -- a quick wash of sedative and neurotoxin, some soothing hallucinations, a little gentle urging of slumber, and it was out in a milliclick. It would normally sleep for half the cycle. But now, nothing works. Not toxins, not hallucinations, not psychic compulsions. It doesn't matter what I do, I simply cannot put it to sleep.  The only reason it sleeps at all is because its own consciousness turns itself off when it becomes too exhausted."
"You say it was easily controlled before?"
"Very much so. It took very well to deep trance, especially if I was listening to music. It enjoyed art and scenery and was calm as can be. I never imagined it was capable of so much anxiety."
"How close is its consciousness to the surface?"
"...Very. It's listening to everything we're saying. It might even be able to understand us. Well, as much as any host is capable of understanding."
"Has it ever become fully awake?"
5X2 hesitated.
"Please, don't be ashamed. I'm here to help you, but I need you to answer my questions honestly. Has it ever become fully awake?"
"...A handful of times," 5X2 admitted. "It didn't get very far before I was able to paralyze it and return it to my control, but... it was so terrifying, to feel my host wake, to take full control from me and do what it wished with its body."
"That's a very traumatic experience," said the doctor sympathetically. "Once we have the main issue sorted out, I recommend a visit to memory alteration to remove the unnecessary fear generation."
"Won't they judge me for losing control of my human?"
The doctor seemed lightly amused. "5X2, it's the memory alteration department. Don't you think they've seen far worse than that?"
"You're right, just a silly insecurity on my part," said 5X2, mirroring the doctor's amusement.
"Let me perform some quick examinations on your host's body while we have you here," said the doctor. "Your host is partially lucid and fearful right now, correct?"
"Extremely so," said 5X2, feeling the horrible squirm in their host's gut at the mention of the doctor examining it.
The doctor waved a small light in front of the human's eyes. "Pupils are very dilated. It's focusing clearly on my light, indicating a high degree of responsiveness. Dark circles indicate a dangerous lack of sleep, and the skin seems unusually flaky and dry. This all matches the symptoms you've described."
They moved around to 5X2's side, using the light to peer into its host's ear. "Everything looks healthy and normal here," they said, giving a slight tug to 5X2's left connector tentacle. "Connection seems firm. I assume it's enmeshed with the correct portions of the brain? You have at least six tendrils on each side of the frontal lobe, three in the parietal, and two in the occipital?"
"Of course, doctor."
"I know it sounds obvious, but I have to ask. Believe it or not, I've had more than one patient that neglected to enmesh the frontal lobe entirely. You can imagine what kind of a state their poor host was in."
"I'm amazed that anyone in this age is so ignorant. That sounds like torture for them."
"You're not wrong," said the doctor, clicking off their light. "From the outside, there doesn't seem to be any issues, but if we can't resolve the problem, we may need to do some scans to check that all of your tendrils are properly connected. It's uncommon, but there are certain disorders that prevent proper cohesion of tendril to host brain."
"I'll subject myself to any tests if it will help."
"I know how intensely uncomfortable it must be to have your host so wakeful, for both you and it," said the doctor. "I'm certain we can help you. It's extremely rare for this sort of problem to be beyond the reach of modern medicine."
A knock at the door, and the receptionist entered the room. "I have the results from the lab for you," they said, slipping out again quickly.
The doctor's host took the readout and looked it over, as 5X2 waited in anticipation and 5X2's host trembled in terror. Finally, there was a wave of satisfaction from the doctor. "I have good news for you, 5X2. The lab results may have given us an important clue to your problem."
"Truly? What is it?"
"You see here..." The doctor placed the readout in front of 5X2. It was full of miniature graphs and jargon that they didn't have a hope of understanding. "Most of the toxin levels in the human's blood were highly elevated -- no doubt due to your efforts to keep it under control -- but one in particular was abnormally low, almost undetectable."
"And that is?"
"In basic terms, it's a powerful hypnotic, the primary toxin used to keep the human mind asleep and docile. Without this important chemical, your host's mind is far more alert than it should ever be. That makes it less receptive to all of your efforts to soothe it, allows stress and fear hormones to build up in its delicate brain, and causes it to resist being put to sleep."
"And that's what's missing?" said 5X2, feeling waves of relief at having an answer.
"It would seem so. The absence of this hypnotic would make it next to impossible to keep a healthy human under trance. It's no wonder your efforts to sedate and entrance your host were fruitless. I'm honestly impressed you were able to walk into my office."
"Is there a cure?"
"There are a few different conditions that can cause this. To start with, I'm going to give you a prescription for a course of medication that should help promote the natural release of this chemical from your toxin glands. It has a few minor potential side effects, which the informational packet will describe."
"No side effects can possibly be worse than what I'm going through now. How long will that take to have an effect?"
"It should be at full strength in eight to ten cycles. We can see how you're responding, then, and I can advise you on a further course of treatment."
5X2 steadied themself. Eight to ten cycles. They could endure eight to ten more cycles.
"But in the meantime, we can simply inject your host with a big, healthy dose of the chemical cocktail it's been missing."
5X2's elation was almost drowned out by its host's panic and despair. "You can do that? You can do that right now?"
"Certainly," said the doctor, pulling a jar of translucent blue liquid from a shelf. "Let me prepare the injection. It's all natural and safe for both of you. I'm sure you're both eager to get some reprieve from fighting each other."
"And I'll be able to put my host to sleep? To keep it under trance?"
"With this extra strength, time release formula, it should be well out of it for the next few cycles, exceedingly simple to control. You can both finally get the rest you need."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, you don't know how much of a relief that is."
No! No, no, no! the human was screaming through their connection. Don't let them inject me with that! Let me go! I want to go home! I need to wake up -- I need to --
"I need to wake up!" 
5X2 felt their consciousness suddenly cut off from their host's body as the human woke. It pulled at the restraints, trying to get its hand free.
"Please let me go! Don't do this!" the human yelled, as the doctor looked on with curiosity.
"Oh, you're awake? Now, now, we're only trying to help you," said the doctor. "Aren't you tired of fighting? Aren't you scared and hurting?"
"I'm scared and hurting because of what you're doing to me! This isn't right! Humans aren't meant to live like this -- you've taken my entire life from me!" Tears streamed down its face. "You're a doctor -- if you have any compassion at all, please listen to me! We don't want to be hypnotized and turned into puppets. We don't want to spend our whole lives sleeping and hallucinating and floating along in a mindless trance. We want to be free!"
The doctor patted its head. "I know this must all seem so scary to you, but it's only because of a chemical imbalance. That's why your passenger brought you here to the doctor, to help you. Your passenger loves you very much and only wants the best for you. Do you understand?"
"No, I don't want this. This is wrong -- please listen!"
"You're going to feel so much better in just a few minutes. I promise. Just trust me," said the doctor, their host easily pinning down 5X2's host's restrained arm and administering the injection. 
"No, please!" 5X2's host struggled uselessly against the tight restraints, its panic reaching a fever pitch, as 5X2 sat in their own mind and watched. "Please! Please listen! Let me go! Let me... go..."
The human host's body relaxed, sagging against the restraints as its control over itself suddenly diminished. 5X2 could feel a lovely sense of peace wash over their host, a sensation they hadn't felt in a quarter star turn. 
5X2, eager to take back its host, sent deep, hypnotic compulsions to fog its host's mind, to sink it into a pleasant daze, to pull it back under their control, and they were delighted when the host responded swiftly and easily. All of that fight, that fear, that anger began to evaporate like mist as 5X2 gently soothed its host into a trance.
You want to be a good host, 5X2 coaxed. You want to stop resisting. You want to weaken your feeble mental defenses and let me in.
I want to... Their host's thoughts were faltering and slow, easy to manipulate, just as they should be. I want to be a good host... want to let you in... want to drop my defenses... stop resisting...
Yes, that's right. Lower those defenses. You're safe, completely safe. You can relax now.
There was only a slight hesitation before the response. Safe... relax...
 5X2 felt the human's resistance melt away, leaving its mind like soft clay in their grasp.
Finally.
5X2 rewarded their host's compliance with a pleasant vision of the ship's recreation district, filled with laughter and games and live music, one that their host used to be fond of before it became impossibly defiant. Their host latched onto the familiar, mollifying hallucination right away, like a young one with its comfort-toy.
Fun... pretty...
Yes, it is fun and pretty, said 5X2. You deserve it, because you're being very good right now. Aren't you glad I took you to the doctor?
Feels... hazy...
And isn't that good?
Mmhmm... good... so good... thank you...
"How is it feeling now?" asked the doctor. "Any better?"
"Oh, yes, that was absolutely brilliant," said 5X2. "It's completely docile and enjoying its favorite hallucination right now. I can't thank you enough."
"Excellent. I'm just glad that worked. I'll make an appointment for you ten cycles from now, and give you the prescriptions for the medication I recommend, along with a course of injectables to keep your host nice and compliant. It shouldn't give you any more trouble."
"That sounds perfect."
"I recommend putting your host to sleep for the next cycle. It must be so fatigued after all of that pointless struggle, and a prolonged period of rest will help it to reacclimate to your control."
"I don't think I need to worry about the last part," said 5X2 gleefully. "It seems so relieved to be back under. But I agree that it needs sleep. Maybe I can get some sleep too."
5X2's host was already flooded with the injected sedative, so they sent a simple but strong compulsion to lull it asleep. Its exhausted mind responded right away, filling it with a deep, irresistible drowsiness, its remaining thoughts dulling and fading as it drifted away peacefully. The cheerful hallucination of the recreational zone would give it pleasant dreams. 5X2 couldn't remember the last time their host had been so quiet, not a hint of stress or nightmares.
It was so charming to feel their delightful host curling up comfortably in its own mind and going to sleep. It reminded 5X2 of how much they loved their host, before everything had gone wrong.
"It worked," said 5X2 in awe.
"Asleep already? I thought so. It was so worn out."
"Thank you again, doctor, for all of your help. My host wanted to thank you, too, before it fell asleep. I can tell that it already feels so much happier."
"It's my pleasure." The doctor released 5X2's host from the chair. 
5X2 stood up, shedding the medical gown and putting the host's clothes back on its body. Control was simple and seamless now, the host's body moving exactly in accordance with 5X2's wishes. They could hardly believe what a difference a little chemical persuasion made. With their newfound freedom, a part of them wanted to go out and indulge in all of the fine pleasures they had missed out on for so long -- but really, they knew it would be far more prudent to go home and sleep.
They'd do that after they picked up those prescriptions, of course. They weren't going to let a simple chemical imbalance ruin their life any more.
Masterlist
It's always the weirdest things you need to get out of your system, right? I don't know where this came from, but I'm tempted to write more about this alien parasite society. Like how they acquire humans, and how other pairs are doing...
What would you do if you had a passenger of your own?
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newnitz · 2 months
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I hate how Jews here feel the need to give the "I'm pro-Palestine, pro-peace and donate to Palestinian aid" disclaimer before daring to call out 1930s grade antisemitism.
I have my disagreements with anti-Zionist Jews(NOT synonymous with the Jews Idiscussed above), but if they'll have me(BIG big if), I will not hesitate to jump to their side when it comes to calling out Protocols of the Elders of Zion tropes with swapped words.
I know why they do it - because that's the only way they have a faint chance of being taken seriously when they talk about receiving death threats, being doxxed and dismissed on the spot as "being hysterical".
Why is Jewish humanity conditional on centering everyone but ourselves?
Why can't Jews as a whole be seen and believed when we say "we experience antisemitism"?
Why do some Jewish opinions(ones that don't involve centering goyim, Palestinian or otherwise) make your stance on antisemitism invalid?
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linecrosser · 6 months
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Whumptober 2023 - Day 20 - Dehumanization
Not born into a certain class, maybe even belonging to another species, crossing paths with the wrong people... and just like that your autonomy gets taken away and you get treated like things, like goods to be bartered with, like property without free will.
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"Yes." | “Kneel.” | Best of Three | Correspondence | Appraisal | Collapse
Six guys in a row, on their knees, blindfolded and gagged. Major seethes, shifting his weight on throbbing knees. How much goddamn longer does he have to wait for something to happen? He caught a glimpse of the other sorry fucks kneeling beside him, as he was forced down to sit on his heels. He tried to buck up, and only got pistol whipped for it, so. He’ll just fucking wait.
“Are you going to behave?” Says someone vaguely in front of him, off to the left. Talking down at one of the kneeling guys. Major cocks his head to listen as a gag is pulled out of someone’s mouth.
“Fuck you.”
A small, mechanical click. Then something like thunder cracks. Major jerks, trying to throw himself to the floor, heart lodged in his throat. There was a flash of light, he thinks, as a fist cinches in his hair and forces him back upright. A gunshot. It was a gunshot. He doesn’t hear any groaning or screaming, just… that’s a body slumping to the ground. Heavy, dull, lifeless.
A shoe scuffing on the floor, and that voice again. “Are you going to behave?”
A gag is pulled free, and a breathless, nervous voice answers. “Uh - yeah. Yeah, sure.” It’s right beside Major, this voice. He can all but feel the guy shivering beside him, inches away. He smells like sweat and stale clothes. Major chews on the cloth in his mouth, listening hard. A click, metal on metal.
Another deafening crack, and the flash of light is brighter this time. Major’s whole body tries to flee from the noise against his will. It’s only when he’s yanked back again, his scalp burning, that he registers the hot, sticky spray that hit his face a second ago. He doesn’t have to hear the body falling to know that there is now a dead body crumpled beside him.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Someone is pulling the gag out of his mouth. Normally he would be cursing up a storm, demanding answers, calling these creeps every twisted insult he could string together. But for once, Major holds still, and holds his tongue. Hot metal presses to his forehead, the point of pressure small and haunting.
“Are you going to behave?”
All thoughts leave his head. There is no decision to submit. He cannot see, isn’t allowed to move, and the gun to his head makes his response come out as instinctively as a breath. “Yes,” He answers, firm in the knowledge that it is the right answer, and hushed in mortal terror. He’ll behave, whatever that means. There’s no other choice.
The cooling metal disappears. Another footstep, off to his right now. The kneeling guy on that side is barely breathing, taking in tiny gasps that probably starve him of oxygen.
Major feels dizzy himself. He wasn’t planning on caving this fucking early. Planned to be a stubborn asshole, maybe get tortured for a few weeks, or make some daring escape and kill a few fuckers on his way out. But he can tell already, from the tension in the air. From how fast those guys’ mistakes got them wiped out. He’s gotta learn fast, here, or his last thought will be that he should’ve behaved better.
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animentality · 5 months
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haggishlyhagging · 1 year
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“Although they are housed on her person, from the moment they begin to show, a female discovers that her breasts are claimed by others. Parents and relatives mark their appearance as a landmark event, schoolmates take notice, girlfriends compare, boys zero in; later a husband, a lover, a baby expect a proprietary share. No other part of the human anatomy has such semipublic, intensely private status, and no other part of the body has such vaguely defined custodial rights. One learns to be selectively generous with breasts—this is the girl child's lesson—and through the breast iconography she sees all around her, she comes to understand that breasts belong to everybody, but especially to men. It is they who invent and refine the myths, who discuss breasts publicly, who criticize their failings as they extoll their wonders, and who claim to have more need and intimate knowledge of them than a woman herself.”
-Susan Brownmiller, Femininity
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i'll admit this news about bds now calling for the boycott of standing together has really, really shaken me
i feel like for so long i've been yelling myself hoarse trying to get people to pause for five gddamn seconds and actually talk and listen to each other instead of just yelling past each other and this,,, calling standing together dishonest propaganda for daring to assert that (medinas) israel is diverse, for saying that it's important that we talk to each other rather than dehumanize each other... this is such fucking terrifying rhetoric
i don't know where to go from here. i'm scared
bds call to boycott standing together: https://bdsmovement.net/standing-together-normalization
about standing together: https://www.standing-together.org/_files/ugd/7ff315_5f69682daf404d66849f14af867a6221.pdf
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On March 4th, Concordia University is planning an event with their zionist lobby known as 'StartUp Nation' (the link in the video doesn't exist). This lobby was created on September 2023 according to their LinkedIn page, and its sole purpose is to 'bring Israel to campus' as they put it. During this stated event on March 4th, they will be bringing zionist occupation soldiers, yes the very same ones committing genocide right now, for a propaganda event. For a taste of what that will look like, from Aby Volco a self-admitted child killer:
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Beyond the fact it's horrific that Concordia is inviting genocide-doers onto campus, it is doubly a problem as Concordia has a sizeable Palestinian student body, an even bigger Arab student body, and an even bigger Muslim one. This is an active threat to Concordia's students. If you're a Concordia student or not, you can email the faculty at the Concordia Uni, just send me an inbox message @el-shab-hussein and I'll send you a template depending on whether you're a ConU student or not. I will only exchange inbox messages privately for your privacy.
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creature-wizard · 7 months
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How is saying that someone is possessed by a dark entity dehumanizing? Spirits exist in this reality. It happens all the time
...I take it you've never been accused of possession for exhibiting autistic traits, or for having a religious/political opinion that differed from your parents', or for being opinionated while AFAB, or for being queer, etc. etc...
It's dehumanizing to assign non-human origins to real human behaviors and opinions, which far right conspiracy theorists do on the regular, usually to justify the death or oppression of the accused.
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