#tw: animal cruelty

[hussyknee]

(alt included in all images)

Another thread by Senator Ben Ray Luján here.

A book on the subject (haven't read it myself):

One of the sources in another one of Alisa's furiously impassioned twitter threads have been debunked, so I didn't include that. But she claims that her own family was caught in the fallout zone when her mother was a baby, which eventually led to her and large numbers of her community developing cancer. It's human for that kind of grief to be caught up in inaccuracies. People are already being ghastly and racist to Hispanos and Indigenous people criticizing the hype for the movie. They're not attacking Oppenheimer for being Jewish, they're criticising the erasure of the human cost of these bombs and the continued valorisation of the U.S military's actions in World War II as some kind of moral saviourism.

While Oppenheimer himself believed that the nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were morally justified (they had planned to drop them on Germany except they surrendered before they could), he also felt had blood on his hands and regretted his role as the "Father of the Atomic Bomb". He spent the rest of his career vehemently opposing further development of thermonuclear weapons and the hydrogen bomb accurately predicting the concept of mutually assured destruction. This eventually made him a victim of Senator McCarthy's Red Scare and his clearance was revoked. I haven't seen the movie (Christopher Nolan is the kind of casual white racist I avoid on principle) but people who have seen it say that it doesn't glorify nuclear weapons and depicts the man himself with the complex moral nuance that seems to be accurately reflective of his real life.

The backlash to Indigenous and Hispanos people's criticisms and to people pointing out that Hiroshima and Nagasaki were genocides is also frustrating because...both world wars were a clash of genocidal empires. The reason they were world wars is because the countries colonized by Japan, China, the European powers and the US were all dragged into it, whether they wanted to or not. Jews were one of the many colonized peoples that suffered in that time, who were left to die by everyone until they could be used to frame the Allied powers as moral saviours, establishing a revisionist nostalgia for heroism that powers the US military industrial complex to this day.

As early as May 1942, and again in June, the BBC reported the mass murder of Polish Jews by the Nazis. Although both US President, Franklin Roosevelt, and British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, warned the Germans that they would be held to account after the war, privately they agreed to prioritise and to turn their attention and efforts to winning the war. Therefore, all pleas to the Allies to destroy the death camp at Auschwitz-Birkenau were ignored. The Allies argued that not only would such an operation shift the focus away from winning the war, but it could provoke even worse treatment of the Jews. In June 1944 the Americans had aerial photographs of the Auschwitz complex. The Allies bombed a nearby factory in August, but the gas chambers, crematoria and train tracks used to transport Jewish civilians to their deaths were not targeted.

(Source)

Uncritical consumption of World War II media is the reinforcement of imperialist propaganda, more so when one group of colonized people is used to silence other colonized peoples. Pitting white Jewry against BIPOC is to do the work of white supremacy for imperialist colonizers, and victimizes Jews of colour twice over.

Edit: friends, there's been some doubt cast on the veracity of Alisa's claims. The human cost to the Hispanos population caught downwind of the nuclear tests is very real, as was land seizure without adequate compensation. However, there's no record I can yet find about Los Alamos killing livestock and Hispanos being forced to work for Los Alamos without PPE. There is a separate issue about human testing in the development of said PPE that's not covered here. I'm turning off reblogs until I can find out more. Meanwhile, here's another more legitimate article you can boost instead:

#Youtube #colonialism #colonization #genocide #oppenheimer #nuclear war #nuclear testing #indigenous rights #racism #new mexico #american imperialism #world war ii #hispanos #tw: animal cruelty #loyda martinez #white supremacy #military industrial complex #generational trauma #worker exploitation #colonial trauma #hiroshima #nagasaki #war propaganda #knee of huss #twitter

[hatteymcstache]

"I might get punished" || THE DARK LORDS STORY

Yeah this is a pretty heavy one 😭

Anyways, because of Gundhams past it's a part of his trauma response.

He tends to apologize even if it means he didn't do anything wrong; especially if he may get snitched on by an adult. He also tells himself not to cry as a mantra, cause he's fearful of being seen as week and doesn't want to worsen the situation.

Mahiru enabling a lot of Hiyoko's behavior has always grinded my gears; Hiyoko having a weird joy in hurting little animals??? Even more livid 8) I wanna do a followup comic for their confrontation soon!

#tw: parental abuse #tw: bullying #tw: animal cruelty #danganronpa #danganronpa hope au: like a family #danganronpa au #gundham tanaka #celestia ludenberg #hiyoko saionji #mahiru koizumi #hattey's art

[treason-and-plot]

They sit in silence for a few moments. Saffron feels as if she is floundering in uncharted emotional waters, and wonders if logic can throw her a lifeline.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she says at last. “Because as I’ve tried repeatedly to tell you, he’s already getting exactly what he deserves by having to play nursemaid to his horrible bitch of a wife for the next year or so. Not to mention the guilt he’s going to be torturing himself with-“

“You don’t seriously believe what he’s told you about his wife?” says Connor, a little knot of scorn appearing between his brows.

“For God’s sake, Connor, he was telling me the truth,” says Saffron. “And there you go sounding all arrogant and horrible again-“

Connor doesn’t apologise this time. Instead he rolls his eyes. Saffron feels something hot and red stab at her temples.

“Let me guess,“ he says witheringly. “He told you she was crazy and psychotic.  Every single married guy in the history of the world who has had an affair has had a crazy wife, Saffy. It’s the oldest cliche in the book. The man’s a cheater, for Christ’s sake. How can you believe a word he says?”

“He turned up to school with a black eye one day because she’d punched him,” says Saffron. “He showed me scratches on his arm where she’d attacked him. I read texts she’d sent him, where she told him that she was going to hire a hitman to kill him. She threatened to do horrible things to his cat. He told me about lots of other crazy stuff she did too. She’s a sick, twisted psychopath. Sometimes I'd almost feel sorry for him!"

“He probably gave himself the black eyes and the scratches,” says Connor after a long pause, shifting position.

“That's totally ridiculous,” says Saffron.  

“I actually don’t blame his wife for wanting to have him killed,” says Connor, as if she hasn't spoken. “I feel exactly the same way.”

“For God’s sake, Connor! Just stop. You’re sounding crazy too. I just want to put this all behind me and forget it ever happened. Okay? Can we please do that?"

“You’re the victim in this situation, Saffy. Like it or not, you can’t just sweep it under the rug-“  

“I am not a victim of anything or anyone,” says Saffron, jumping to her feet. “Christ, I wish I’d never told you!”

She blinks back tears and stomps away, not knowing where she is going, just feeling as if she needs to escape. But from what she isn’t exactly sure.

#Connor #Saffron #tw: animal cruelty #back to Bridgeport #5 years later #sims 3 #sims 3 story

[carbasi]

Giving a Zebra gender surgery by choking them to death

#tw: animal cruelty #Zippy Trans Icon

[vala-dreams]

Danny Phantom but he's just,,,,,there.

He doesn't have the portal accident, his parents get the portal working but everything goes wrong and the portal is way too unstable and it's just fucked up

Ghosts are making their way through the portal all the time, and not all of them have good intentions. The portal is unstable and keeps expanding and nothing the Fentons are doing is helping.

Danny still goes vigilante. He has to. He can't just ignore it when there's ghosts hellbent on destruction stepping out of the portal in his basement. He can't ignore it when the portal won't stop growing.

And so he goes. He straps in his ghost fighting gear and his fenton blaster and his thermos. He tries talking to any and all ghosts, even Plasmius, to figure out what's happening.

He steps out of class when his spook detector goes off, even when he knows it means he won't be passing his classes. He gives up sleep, he gives up Nasa, he gives up his friends.

It isn't enough.

Ghosts keep coming through. Bigger and bigger each time and he knows that he cannot fight whatever's coming next. It'll be too big. It'll be too powerful. The ghost portal is more of a gash in the universe now, encompassing his whole house and neighborhood. Amity park is at its breaking point.

And everyone knows it.

And maybe that's why Plasmi– no, Vlad. Maybe that's why Vlad finally told him how the first portal accident went. Maybe that's why he told him how he had to suffer to appease the portal.

Because that's just how it is, isn't it? The portal needed a sacrifice. The portal needed a stabiliser.

They try animals first. All kinds of animals, from lab rats to cats to chimps. All thrown to the portal, one by one. Shoved in by the desperate hands of all the Amity parkers.

It's a bit like insanity, he thinks. Maybe this is how the people of pompeii felt when they prayed for salvation.

It doesn't work. He isn't surprised.

The portal needed a person.

His parents and Vlad had made the prototype portal way back in their college days. Vlad paid the price. His parents made this one too, and who does that leave?

Who does that leave? Not Jazz who raised him when his parents wouldn't, who hadn't ever cared about their parent's insane work. Not Tucker who hacked into GIW files, who helped him hunt ghosts even when he was nearly crying from fear. Not Sam, who went out on patrol with them every night, who patched him up when he couldn't.

No, not them.

The portal needed Danny.

#danny phantom #angst #danny phantom au #eldritch #danny fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #yeah theyre dead #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #alternate universe #tw: animal death #tw: animal abuse #tw: animal cruelty #you could spin this the dpx dc way #and say that amity is this eldritch town shielded from the rest of the world #and jason #or rather his ghost #finds it when he comes across the portal too #angsty danny #eldritch horror

[quinthejester]

sometimes, you just have an innocent face :)

based of an interaction i had during my evil!dark urge run of BG3 which i thought was pretty funny

such a sweet, innocent guy... just ignore Alfira's dead body :)

(his party fortunately would go on to clock how evil Ira was, but that was after he massacred the Tieflings lol)

#astarion #dark urge #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 durge #bg3 #bg3 astarion #lae'zel #karlach #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 karlach #my art #fanart #bg3 fanart #bg3 oc #digital art #tw: blood #tw: animal cruelty #tw: animal death

[100yearoldcomics]

August 7, 1922 Everett True by A.D. Condo

[ID: Everett stands grumpily on the front porch of a neighbor's house, holding up a small white cat. /end] Everett: I see you folks are back from your two weeks' vacation. Here's your cat you left wandering around the neighborhood to half starve.

[ID: Everett sets the cat down, who begins rubbing herself against Everett's legs. The neighbor happily bends down to look. /end] Neighbor: Why, she seems well nourished at that, Mr. True.

[ID: Everett takes the man's head and slams it to the ground. His cat jumps away. /end] Everett: Yes, in the two weeks, she has eaten nine dollars' worth of cream, meat and fish that I ordered for her and had charged to your accounts!!! [INFLATION GUIDE: In 2022 dollars, that's a grocery bill of about $160. /end]

#newspaper comics #vintage #history #1922 #everett true #transcript available #1920s #everett true stands up for the pets of America once more #outdoor cats #negligent pet owners #tw: animal cruelty #(implied) #it takes a village

[halfmoth-halfman]

fear of the water (i.)

Spider-verse/Subnautica Crossover Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Spider!Reader Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: animal cruelty, animal injury, it's a water planet and the fish are very sick and wild, disease, illness, blood, body horror, tentacles (kinda) A/N: this is going to be two parts because i got caught up playing subnautica while doing "research" for this LMAO (ii.)

It starts with a fish.

A single, blue-hued fish no bigger than his fist with a small yellow beak and two massive yellow eyes to match.

One minute he’s talking to Lyla, trying to determine why his watch has been showing him encrypted messages, and the next, the lab is illuminated in orange, and a wet plop echoes across the room.

Miguel stares as the fish slaps against the polished floor. It stares back at him with its large, blinking eye as its pointed tailfin worms against the ground. Thin tube-like organs stretch its body, one from the top of its head and one from the bottom. Three holes run along the side of its small body in place of gills. The water that drips from its slimy, scaleless skin is almost clear and glistens light blue under the lights.

“Should we help it?” Lyla asks, materializing next to the fish to poke at the tube-like organ on the fish’s head.

Miguel looks up, dark eyes searching for the portal that allowed this fish in here. There’s nothing there, no sign of where this fish came from.

“Set up a tank for it,” Miguel says, eyes dropping back down to the struggling fish. Lyla nods, giving the fish one last look before disappearing. Miguel watches it wrestle against the ground for two long seconds before carefully sliding a hand under it and picking it up. It’s cold to the touch but seems to calm as the warmth from his hands sink into its body.

The struggling stops, and, for a moment, Miguel thinks the fish has finally died in his hands.

The fish blinks, the bright yellow of its eye flashing a bright, sickly green as it snaps its head to the right and sinks its beak into the meat of Miguel’s palm.

It’s no more than a light pinch, not even enough to tear his skin, but it startles him enough that he almost drops it. The fish lets go, settling back down into his hands.

“Got a tank!” He turns back to his desk, Lyla beaming at him from where she sits on the edge of a desktop aquarium filled with water. Miguel hums his thanks, dropping the fish into the tank.

It sinks directly to the bottom of the tank, landing on the glass with a dull thud.

It sits there for ten seconds before it blinks, the holes in its body flexing as they filter in water. The fish springs to life, shooting through the water to explore its new environment.

“What’re we gonna name him?” Lyla asks, swirling her hand on the water's surface. The fish follows along, trying to nudge at her hand.

“You pick,” Miguel says non-committally, thumb running across the small, dented bite on his hand. “I need to run some tests.”

That night, he dreams only of water.

Unable to move, he stands on a beach made of pale sand and trees with bulbous fruit that glows at night. He’s forced to look out over an endless ocean of pitch-black waves crashing over each other as a giant red moon circles the star-littered sky.

Fish leap out of the water in front of him, splashing in the pitch-black depths and staring back at him with big eyes of bioluminescent yellow.

A sense of calmness washes over him, a strange, unfamiliar feeling of peace.

It does not last long.

The sound of hundreds of rocks grinding together echoes behind him, the fish darting back beneath the water and scattering. He can’t turn, limbs refusing his commands, and he’s forced to listen to the low electric hum that buzzes into his bones.

A horn blows once. Twice.

A flock of strange birds fly overhead, desperate to escape it.

He hears the buzz again, like something powering up, before the heat of a titanic explosion blasts against his back. It feels as if his eardrums burst with the blast as the sky rains metal and bodies.

Miguel is forced to watch a spaceship bigger than buildings crash into the water and slowly sink into its inky depth until nothing remains but floating debris, destroyed life pods, and not a survivor in sight.

The waves still, and the water before him bubbles and bubbles and bubbles.

Fish rise to the surface in droves, unmoving and covered in glowing green pustules that pop and bleed into the water.

There’s a wailing from the water, something screaming in fear and desperation and heartbreak. It grows louder and louder until the ground beneath him quakes so violently it sends him face-first into the sickly green water.

He wakes before he hits the ground, limbs unusually stiff with the taste of iron on his tongue as sweat drips from his body.

He heads straight to the lab, not bothering to get dressed, and finds the fish waiting, staring at him with those bright, yellow eyes.

The fish is alien; that much is clear.

It’s not from any universe known to him, Lyla, or Margo. They poke and prod at the thing, trying not to comment on how it seems to want them to. Tests are run over and over and over.

Everything comes back inconclusive.

Miguel follows this routine for a week. The fish plagues his days while the dreams haunt his nights. With each passing day, he feels worse, limbs growing heavier, brain throbbing against his skull at all hours. The lack of answers frustrates him to oblivion. The mystery of this stupid fish vexes him in ways he wouldn’t have considered.

He doesn’t know what to make of it, his brain and body running ragged by the week’s end.

If he could get the flu, Miguel would’ve thought that’s what he had when he awoke in the middle of the night exactly eight days after the fish landed on his doorstep.

He stumbles from his bed, body screaming in protest as fever burns through him. His vision blurs, a swirl of greens, blues, and purples, and his mind is flooded with images of those deep, dark waters.

The fish. He has to see the fish.

Miguel staggers to his lab, half-dressed and nearly delusional. He thinks he hears Lyla’s voice in the distance, but he doesn’t see her anywhere, mind focused only on getting to the fish.

The door to his lab slides open, and the fish floats in the center of the tank, staring right at him.

Anger and frustration take over as Miguel forces himself to his desk, shoving his hand into the tank to grab onto the unmoving fish. He yanks it from the water, ready to throw it with all of his strength.

“ꜱᴛᴏᴘ.”

His body tenses, eyes darting around the room for the source of the voice.

“ᴡʜᴀᴛ...ꜱᴇᴇᴋ...”

The voice echoes all around him, echoing in and outside of his mind.

“ᴡᴀɴᴛ...ʜᴇʟᴘ.”

It sounds like it’s coming from…

Miguel stares down at the fish in his iron grip. It gazes back unblinking, tinges of green swirling around its massive eyes.

“...ʏᴏᴜ.”

The fish’s skin erupts, dozens of glowing green pustules rising from its slimy flesh and bursting onto Miguel’s. It burns like acid eating away at his skin, and Miguel screams, dropping the fish back into the tank.

His arm twitches and bends involuntarily, the bright green mucus-like liquid sliding up his arm and sinking into his muscles. His legs collapse beneath him as he scrubs furiously at his arm, desperately trying to stop the trail of green climbing up to his shoulders.

The fish shoots around the tank, slamming itself into the glass.

The infection reaches Miguel’s neck. Like ice stabbing into his veins, it drags up his neck and wraps around his vocal cords. The pain keeps sound from escaping as he lets out a silent scream.

The fish crushes its beak against the bottom of the tank. Dim, yellow blood drifts from its beak as it turns and slams its right eye against the glass.

Miguel can feel it climbing up his neck and into his jaw. He tastes it in the back of his throat, bile and iron.

The fish’s eye swells shut, a green blister forming on its eyelid almost instantly, growing and growing until it ruptures.

Miguel feels it pressing against his eyes as if they’re about to burst from his skull. He squeezes his eyes shut, and his vision is flooded with swirls of blue of purple.

Glass shatters in front of him, and Miguel peels his eyes open to find the tank on the floor. The fish lays before him, half-melted into a pile of bright green goo.

A spiral of purple crosses his vision and whirls to form the vague outline of a person.

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ...ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ɴᴏᴡ.”

The voice reverberates inside his head, the person reaches toward him, and the world fades around him.

He’s on the beach again.

The waters crash around him, sliding up the sand to caress his bare feet.

Miguel stares out over the endless ocean, but something’s different this time. Sunlight reflects off the calm waters, a soft breeze blows against his hair, and small grains of sand drift into his face. He grimaces, turning to roll onto his back.

A palm-like tree with round fruit rests over him, and a bird covered in white feathers edged in black stares down at him.

Is this…another dream?

The bird caws—a sound similar to a gull, but higher pitched—spreading its wings wide to reveal a glowing green undercarriage. The bird takes off; its wings connect the bend to its body as it flaps through the air like a manta ray swims in the ocean.

Miguel pushes himself to sit up, groaning at the ache in his body. His body…

He startles—flashes of the half-melted fish crossing his mind—looking over his skin for any signs of the bright green infection that had spread up his arm.

He looks fine, only a small dent where the fish had bitten him. He leans back in the sand, taking in his surroundings.

The sand is almost soft beneath him, the breeze carrying the faintest scent of salt. If he closed his eyes, he could picture himself on a regular beach back home.

Something squeaks beside him, and Miguel nearly jumps when he opens his eyes to find a flat, blue eyeball on four pointed limbs skittering toward him. Instincts take over as the creature leaps, small mandibles aiming for him, and he lands a solid punch to its front left leg. The creature shrieks when it lands, skittering away with a noticeable limp.

Not a dream, then.

Miguel watches the creature run up the beach, heading toward the mountain in the center of the island he’s on, where it disappears into a cave twice as tall as him.

The cave could be a good shelter if more of those things aren’t inside.

He’ll need to find something for food and a way to make a fire.

“Lyla,” he calls, but no one answers. It dawns on him that he’s actually stuck here, on this strange island, in only a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

To the right, the beach ends at a large formation of rocks, and to the left, it disappears into a steep drop-off into the ocean.

The only way he can go is forward, so that’s what he does.

The cave leads deep into the mountain. Thankfully there are plenty of holes in the mountainside to let light in and allow him to see. He finds more of those cave crawlers, but they give him a wide berth after he kicks the first two into the cave walls.

He doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s meant to be looking for until he trips over it.

It’s warm but hard enough to nearly break his foot when he stumbles on it: a black cable inscribed with symbols that ebb with glowing green symbols. Half of it is buried in the rocky ground, but it’s wide enough that he’d have a hard time fitting his arms around it.

The cable runs along the mountain floor, trailing up a small hill and leading back outside. Miguel follows it, focusing more on the symbols than what lies ahead.

Momentarily blinded by the sunlight, he shields his eyes, waiting for them to adjust.

When the spots in his vision finally clear, his jaw nearly drops at the sight before him.

The ocean stretches out before him, never-ending and glittering black. On the right, the burnt-out carcass of a massive spaceship sits above the surface, still smoldering as the waves lap at its exterior. On the left, the cable runs to a large cubic tower made of the same material, an arch at its base glowing with a green so bright it’s hard to look at.

Miguel’s vision swims with blue and purple before that same silhouette takes form again.

“ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ,” the voice in his head speaks, something in his chest pulling him toward the tower.

“Who are you?” he asks, swatting at the silhouette. His hand passes through, and the figure disperses into the air. Miguel scoffs. Of course, they’d disappear instead of giving him answers.

Left with no other choice, he carefully follows the mountain path down to where a metal bridge leads from the beach to the tower. With the same strange symbols carved into the bridge, Miguel cautiously sets one foot on its surface.

It hums to life, the symbols glowing green beneath his foot. It’s oddly warm, much like the sun-warmed sands of the beach. Nothing else happens, though, and it’s enough for him to decide it’s safe to cross.

The bridge hums as he makes his way across. The arch swirls with green semi-transparent energy, and something on the other side calls to him.

Miguel reaches a hand forward, a brief moment of hesitance before he commits and steps through.

The world around him twists and distorts, a distant wailing vibrating across his ears. His limbs grow too heavy, his mind slipping into a limbo of pain and peace.

There’s a moment where Miguel thinks this may be the end.

But as soon as it comes, it stops, and Miguel is left standing in a pitch-black room on the edge of a glowing blue pool.

He steps back, and the entire room pulses with glowing green symbols before fading into darkness. He looks to the pool, a sudden tightness in his chest followed by the absolute yearning to jump in.

“—ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ,” the voice calls, and he doesn’t know if the echo in the room is in his head.

He listens to its beckoning, one deep breath before diving into the luminous water.

A mistake, he soon realizes.

His muscles tense as soon as he hits the water, locking in place as he slowly sinks down to a platform suspended by chains. He’s in some kind of large chamber, one that looks similar to a well-decorated aquarium. He catches glimpses of schools of fish swimming below the platform as he sinks to it, along with various colorful and glowing flora.

He lands on the platform feet first, something keeping him standing as he struggles against its invisible hold.

He needs to get out. He needs to swim to the surface.

Miguel’s lungs constrict painfully.

He needs air.

A deep groan echoes across the chamber, and Miguel feels the water shift around him, nearly pulling him off his feet.

He’s not alone here.

Something else is in this chamber with him.

Something big.

A dark, spindly limb slithers onto the platform and up the chain to his right. It’s halfway up the chain when a second limb begins curling around the chain to his left. Two more move up onto the platform and anchor themselves on either side of him. Far too big to wrap around his arms, they settle atop his shoulders to keep him anchored in one spot.

Brilliant purple lights flash down the dark skin of these limbs, beautiful swirling patterns that almost distract from the way Miguel’s lungs scream at him.

Skin swirling with flashing purple lights, a creature rises onto the platform before him.

You look human-ish, standing on two legs with two arms and hands clasped in front of you. You’re wearing a black suit that clings to your body and covers every inch of your skin except your hands and feet. What Miguel can see of your skin glows with purple veins that match the blinking patterns of the limbs on his shoulders. He notices they connect to your back, as do the two wrapped around the chains, keeping you hovering just above the platform.

You stare at him, blinking with all four of your glowing purple eyes, head tilted almost curiously.

You glide forward, and Miguel takes note of the other four limbs stretching from your back and draping over the platform's edge. One of them wiggles, twitching slightly before he feels a sharp pinch to the back of his neck.

He inhales, lungs burning as they fill with water. His body feels as if it’s on fire, nerves vibrating as his fingers and toes begin to turn purple.

You blink, at the pain disappears. Limbs loose and back in his control, Miguel chokes and lifts a hand to his neck. He inhales again, and the burn is slight as his lungs adjust and his body changes.

You give him a moment to adjust, watching the realization dawn on him as he inhales and exhales again with ease.

When he finally meets your gaze, your eyes widen, purple lights dancing across your long limbs.

“You are not what I expected,” your voice echoes in his head, clear as day.

“Who are you?” he asks in his mind, harsher than he means to, but not used to the sudden mental connection.

“I am what you seek,” you answer.

“What?” he scoffs.

“Many have tried, and all have failed,” you continue. Miguel narrows his eyes. Your voice sounds…strained like you’re purposely pitching it lower.

“Are you gonna start making sense or—”

“Others came here once,” you muse, looking at the chambers around you solemnly.

“Did you kidnap them too?”

“They built—what?” You stutter, voice losing its low pitch as you turn to him in surprise. “Kidnap? I didn’t kidnap you.”

“No? What would you call it?” Miguel rolls his eyes, frowning down at one of the arms on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, and it slithers to your side.

“No? You came here,” you say, confusion laced in your voice.

“After you left me stranded on the beach,” he scoffs.

“That’s not—” The other limb slides from his shoulder as you glide away from him, picking at the purple veins in your palms. Your brows knit together, eyes focused on the ground. You drift back and forth as if pacing, your voice soft like your words are only meant for you to hear, “You called to me. That’s how I found you, because of the connection, the infect—.”

You stop, turning swiftly to him.

“Where did you come from?”

Miguel takes a step back as you rush forward.

“Shouldn’t you know? You brought me here after your fish melted,” he frowns.

“My fish?” One of your extra limbs reaches up to rub at the side of your temple. He lets you think, watching your face intently. You pick at your palms, wincing when you break skin. The lights on your body flash green before returning to their normal purple, and you both look down to watch yellow blood drift up from your palm. Your eyes widen, slowly lifting to meet his gaze with a worry that sets him on edge.

“How long ago were you infected?” Your voice is soft, almost pitying, and somehow that makes him angrier.

“Infected?” Miguel asks, making no attempt to hide his irritation. You turn your palm upwards, slowly holding it out to him. He can see that small cut in your skin, or rather, the neon green blister that’s taken its place.

“The others brought it here,” you murmur. “They came looking for a cure, but…it didn’t work. They…did something—something unforgivable—and in the following conflict, the virus got out. Everything from here to beyond the Crater was ravaged.”

He doesn’t understand most of what you’re saying, but there’s a sense of loss in your voice that he finds a small part of himself empathizing with.

“I’ve been trying to fix it,” you murmur, looking at him wide-eyed. “But the virus limits my reach to those who carry it.”

You catch the tensing of his jaw and the quick glance down at his hand. You reach for him, slowly and carefully, like one would approach a wild animal. You grab his hand with your unmarked one, lifting it so you can examine his palm.

It’s small, but there’s no mistaking the green edges of the dent in his palm, glowing brighter beneath the water.

“How long ago was this?” you ask, thumb gently grazing the green mark.

“A week,” Miguel answers tightly, pulling his hand out of your grasp.

Your glowing gaze meets his dark one, “Then you don’t have much time left.” You turn your back to him, revealing the bare expanse of your back and the masses of green veins and blisters that gather around where your extra limbs attach. You head toward the edge of the platform. “Come. It’ll be easier to explain…not here.”

He doesn’t move, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can’t take me back home and explain there?”

You stop just at the platform's edge, extra limbs unwinding themselves from the chains as you look at him over your shoulder.

“No one can leave until a cure is found,” you speak, calm and distant. “I cannot change what they’ve put into place. You either follow me or die here. Your choice.”

Miguel lets your words sink in, eyes falling to the bite on his hand. He looks back up at you with a reluctant sigh and gives you a single nod.

You nod, turning back and diving off the edge of the platform, disappearing into the chamber below.

Miguel steps up to the edge, peering into the darkness below to see your bioluminescent limbs carrying you along the chamber floor like a glowing spider. He takes a deep breath, letting the water filter through his lungs, before stepping off the platform.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderverse fics #moth writes #tw: animal cruelty #tw: animal injury #tw: disease #tw: illness

[johnny-depplyloveyou]

Tw: animal cruelty, animal deaths mention

Can we talk about how Larian put so much unnecessary animal cruelty in bg3? Like Yenna and Grub only exist to serve as a backup option for the Orin abduction, which involves Orin killing Grub and trick your character into eating his meat! 🤢 I was utterly disgusted when I encountered it and almost quit playing until I found a way to avoid this outcome in my first playthrough (I used no romance limit mod and romanced all of the possible companions that could be abducted therefore I needed to breakup with one of them and leave them in camp), it’s really triggering for me because I also have a cat and we live in a place where animal cruelty is not illegal and companion animals are not protected by law from being served as food, there are countless pet and stray cats and dogs got stolen and later found slaughtered in meat factories and made into off-brand sausages and meatballs, not to mention there are many torture rings that target cats in here and they’re openly taunting and threatening people who oppose them to kill more cats because they know they can get away with it, it’s every cat parent’s worst nightmare. We already get that Orin is this sadistic evil shapeshifter who tortured and killed people for fun, is it really necessary to show us that she’s indiscriminate to children and animal too for shock value??

And for Durge, Larian and the writer they hired from a fan discord server for writing ast*r**n fanfics really put extra effort into making more animal cruelty scenes into the storyline which I have to look into guides before I play durge’s origin to avoid them(a squirrel, a bird, a cat could fall into durge’s victim), making durge unnecessarily edgier when there’s tons of other stuff already shows his gory urges, while durge’s main story in act 3 has so much plot potential yet still feels underwhelming, underwritten and lacks companion reactions other than ast*r**n’s. Really shows their priority, huh? Isn’t these animal cruelty content avoidable? Sure, but you need the knowledge of how to avoid them first, the dialogue option that leads to killing Steelclaw the cat is something like “trying to remember why you know this cat” which is just like the one that leads to durge cut off Gale’s hand, these options doesn’t explicitly say you are going to choose violence, it’s very misleading almost tempt you to choose them. There should be explicit indications of these outcomes in the dialogue options. And that squirrel encounter, durge just automatically kills them if you don’t have speak with animals on. Players that go into the game blind are going to have these triggering content shoved into their faces. But I guess Larian just doesn’t care.

#larian critical #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #tw: animal death #tw: animal abuse #tw: animal cruelty #and ​Gale should turn hostile if you kill Tara in front of him #or at least confront you and leave the party #she’s his oldest and best friend and you can just murder her in front of him and face zero consequences? he only yells Tara No?! #the ​Gale I know would never let that slide but Larian left so much content in act 3 unpolished #I think they’re biased against cats #two cats can meet a horrible death in the story but none of the dogs shared the same fate

[bernard-the-rabbit]

i hold her to me tightly, i hold her to me tighter. i hold her to me tighter until i feel her bones crack against me and the chattering stops.

#tw:animal death #tw: animal cruelty #id in alt text #ngl when boo is like “what is this” #and fleabag is like “something to love” #and the metaphor #and im... #sob #my trashy art #fleabag #fleabag fanart

[roamwithahungryheart]

Let me just say this - no matter who you're choosing to believe, the fact of the matter is that Amber Heard took Johnny Depp's beloved dog from him in the divorce and allowed (as did the court) a defenseless animal to live with her father, a man convicted of animal abuse and running a dog fighting ring. No matter which way you look at things, this is utterly inexcusable. It's an act of evil. It speaks volumes.

#Amber Heard #Johnny Depp #tw: animal cruelty #depp vs heard #I only found this out today and I am absolutely livid

[vshusband]

Tw: animal abuse, torture, animal death

THIS IS IMPORTANT

PLEASE BOOST IF YOU CAN OR SPREAD AWARENESS

#tw: death #tw: animal death #tw: animal cruelty #animals #cats #signal boost #boost #please boost #please reblog #serious post #spread awareness

[beanerbrujx]

I'm against the death penalty in most cases

This is one of those cases I say fucking kill the bastard

#animal cruelty #tw: animal death #animal death #tw: animal cruelty

[revelinginthedarkrooms]

Down With Lovesickness - Male Yan x GN!Reader

WARNING(S): Yandere, stalking, smoking, animal cruelty, breaking/entering, implied violence

Please read responsibly. Minors fuck off. Ageless/blank blogs DNI.

Imagine for a minute.

It’s your last year of high school and you’re hard at work trying to get your grades up. The very last project of the semester is coming, and you’ve just been assigned to work with the boy at the back of the class who’s never said a word as long as you’ve known him.

Andrew, you faintly remember, is a 6′3″ wall of a teen with dark, dark hair, a darker fashion sense, and icy blue eyes; someone nobody really wanted to socialize with, least of all you. He was the kind of guy to wear combat boots and chokers and snakebite piercings, listening to little else but My Chemical Romance and Three Days Grace with the music blaring through his earbuds. He was a parent’s worst nightmare and the envy of preteens everywhere, but he seemed to give little thought to any of it.

How he was even passing his classes, you’d never know. There were stretches of time where he just didn’t show up to class at all, you never saw him do any classwork or engage in discussions either. All he did was sit back and stare out the window, rolling a pencil between his fingers. Any time you’d ever seen anyone talk to him, he disregarded them coldly, as if it wasn’t worth his time to speak. Needless to say, you hadn’t been thrilled, but the groups were final and your teacher was insistent that if he didn’t pull his weight, you could do the whole thing yourself instead of risking half marks.

The very first time you spoke to him was during lunch. You managed to ask around until you found his sister two grades below, who pointed you in the direction of the gym with a huff of “Guess he didn’t stick to that promise again”. Sure enough you found him between the gym and the main building, a cigarette releasing a lazy stream of smoke in the shadows.

He wasn’t much for conversation at first, but with time, impatience, and offering whatever he wanted if he would just cooperate, he finally handed you his half of the project on the day of the presentation. You’d been floored - it was great-quality work, something that was sure to get a good grade. But he ignored any attempts at conversation and busied himself with staring out the window again.

After that, you found yourself crossing paths with him more and more. Sometimes you’d catch him standing behind you in the lunch line (”What? I didn’t have breakfast this morning,” he’d grumble when you looked up with a questioning glance), sometimes he’d just so happen to be checking out books in the school library when you were there to study (”I promised my brother that I’d find a horticulture guide for his weird plant hobby”), sometimes you’d even run into him after school, at the mall, at cafes, at the park - and every time he was nonchalant, cool, even, as he gave you an explanation as to why he happened to be there. Other times he brusquely said he didn’t have to say anything, and turned the tables on you. “Well, why are you here?”

Things only got weirder from there. One day one of your friends complained of a dead rat sitting on their doorstep that morning. Later on, another one complained of a weird feeling that someone was watching them as they went home every day. And yet another came to you privately and showed you pictures they’d taken of their tire slashed and blood across their windshield, spelling out “BEWARE”. It wasn’t human blood, or so they said - it was animal blood. Still didn’t explain why it was there, or who had done it. A couple in your friend group theorized that the dead rats and the blood incident were related, and it was too easy to get caught up in their talk of it. Paranoia seeped into the cracks of your friend group, and it wasn’t long before one of them snapped.

They just... disappeared from school for a week with no explanations or excuses. Even their parents refused to say anything, and your other friends were of no help either. Nobody knew what the hell had happened to them, and when they came back there was a haunted look in their eyes as they told you that you couldn’t be friends anymore. It sucked, but with all of the strange goings-on you didn’t blame them. It still burned inside to see them pull away from you.

You continued to run into Andrew more and more now. Sometimes you’d get to school and he would be just inside the doors, scaring the daylights out of you and getting a little smirk of amusement. You’d figure he enjoyed scaring you for fun with how much he spoke of little details in his life that should’ve been highly upsetting to a normal person, such as his parents’ divorce. Still he never outright bullied you, or so you thought. Who knows, maybe him making you jump and telling you morbid things was his way of being mean.

Something was weird about him, and you just couldn’t place it.

One day, he cornered you in the hallway. Classes were in session and the halls were clear, and oddly quiet, as Andrew leaned in with a rasping voice. “Go out with me, (Name).”

The question- no, demand, was so out of the blue that all you could do was balk at him. Yet he remained stoic as ever, and slowly you realized he wasn’t joking.

“I don’t want anyone except you,” he explained, and the almost suffocating linger of cigarette smoke filled your senses. His jacket was well-worn and thick, and you could feel the body heat radiating from him at this close proximity. “Go out with me. I won’t let anyone mess with you.”

It was a strange stipulation, but, well, what had you to lose? That was the first time you saw him smile, and the sight was oddly heartwarming despite his waspish façade.

Nobody could believe you if you mentioned that you were dating him. Not even your closest friends, who had laughed when you explained it after they’d seen him leave your locker one morning. Sure, his reputation proceeded him, but after a while it just began to get annoying how people would tease you and call you crazy for it.

Winter turned to spring, and you and Andrew were still dating. He walked you to your classes every day now, and more than once had slipped your favorite candy into your bag during breaks. You figured it was his way of being sweet, not noticing the ring of bruises on the back of his neck underneath his longcoat collar.

As the year wore on, people teased you less and less. Instead, now they seemed almost afraid to discuss your new relationship. Their eyes followed you when you passed, and if Andrew was walking you they would avert their gaze entirely until he was gone. Some of the school’s biggest jerks, ones who used to antagonize him, one by one stopped coming to school. When asked, he never said a thing about it, muttering something about it not being your business to know.

Something was weird about your boyfriend, but as long as he was respectful you didn’t care. Well, until you did.

One night you awoke to your window sliding open. As you all but leapt from your bed, a shout on your tongue, he shushed you by clapping a hand over your mouth, hissing, “It’s just me! Don’t scream, you idiot!”

How had he opened it from the outside? You’d sworn you’d locked it before bed. How had he managed to sneak into your hard and not set off the floodlights outside the house? Most importantly, how were you not screaming for your parents already?!

“I needed to see you,” he said next, burying his nose in your hair. The choker around his neck clinked and felt cold against your skin and you could smell sandalwood and smoke clinging to his clothes, but as your fear melted away and you were left with your giant of a boyfriend holding you in his lap on your bed, all you could think about was how warm and nice he felt.

That night went by quickly, much of it spent with Andrew’s once-icy gaze raking over your form in a soft, dare you say it loving way. By the time you woke up he was pressed into you, holding you to his chest in an iron grip. You barely managed to wake him up and shoo him out the window before your parents decided to check on you, but the grin spreading across his face sent butterflies through your chest.

He texted you later, musing about how he enjoyed spending the night, and how you’d have to come over and meet his siblings and his mother already. Your boyfriend may be gruff and cold, but somehow he swept you off your feet - and you were already anticipating the next time he would sneak in on a streak of teenage rebellion.

#she muses #yandere x gn reader #male yandere #dead dove do not eat #tw: yandere #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: stalking #tw: smoking #tw: animal cruelty #tw: death #breaking and entering #ocs #tw: implied violence #minors dni #blank blogs dni #ageless blogs dni

[wowwzaaxei]

cw/tw: animal abuse and child abuse

so basically I live in a household where hitting and spanking is a normal punishment that happens regularly.

well, so my brother picked up on how our parents hit us and the dog whenever we screw up, so he was attempting to hit our dog today and I stopped him. He then proceeded to scream, cry, and run to our mother saying I wouldn’t let him hit the dog with a belt even though he “wasn’t listening.”

my mother yelled at him and told him he wasn’t allowed to do that, to which he responded saying he’s seen dad do it before, so he was going to do it as well to punish our dog, and my mother said that dad only did that because he was an adult, and that my young brother couldn’t because he was younger and indeed, not an adult.

stop normalizing abuse, this is a double standard and it’s fucking sick.

#Cw: animal abuse #cw: animal cruelty #tw: animal abuse #tw: animal cruelty #tw: child abuse #cw: child abuse #Wowza rant

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

the cruelty behind animal testing.

#tw: animal cruelty #animal testing #animals